#but people will use that as an excuse to ignore her sexuality

[its-white-wolf]

Reminder to Marvel fans that Yelena is canonically aroace!!

Please stop shipping her with other characters, we already get so little representation and there's so many other ships you get get attatched to, just please leave Yelena out of it

Sincerely, a tired aroace guy

[ek-ranjhaan]

She has not just been raped and murdered, she was very much tortured and brutalized like Nirbhaya. It is all over the Bengali news. I don't understand why no one is talking about this.

A 2nd year Respiratory Medicine in a well known government medical college in Kolkata, West Bengal, India is found in a semi-naked state and the college/ hospital called it a suicide.

I'm a MBBS student in second year. After reading about her, what crossed my mind is the amount of times she would have felt this fear, before this worst fear of hers eventually materialized.

"A young resident doctor was found dead in the seminar room of her medical college in Kolkata. Initial autopsy report suggests possible rape and murder."

As all are saying,

She wasn't walking the street at odd hours. She wasn't wearing clothes that were provocative. She wasn't loitering in dangerous neighbourhoods.

She was a resident doctor, looking for a place to rest in her own hospital.

She had been on duty and had gone to rest in the early hours of Friday.

The one place which was supposed to guarantee her safety failed her, miserably.

Someone comes, rapes a female pg who is merely resting in a seminar hall because there is no proper place for her to rest, brutalized her and kills her. How did NO one know? The college and police initially call it a suicide. Excuse me? It is also being said that under pressure from local politicians, the Principal and Dean attempted to alter the post-mortem report. Autopsy confirms sexual assault.

What are the actions taken? One man arrested because his behavior seemed "shady". This is clearly not an act of one man. And this was a very well aware of and a well executed criminal act.

Also, all this happening in WB right when the situation of bangladesh is in turmoil and news of Bangladeshi Hindus being killed and tortured, seems wrong, VERY WRONG. Happening right before NEET-PG, as 24 lakh doctors prepare to write an exam on Sunday to be resident doctors, this news has wrapped us all in agony and rage,

What are they working so hard for? Why should they aspire to be in a system that ignores their basic needs? The minimum requirement of a workplace is safety. That should be non-negotiable.

This profession demands extereme hardwork, a lot of mental strength and Physical Assaults, harassment, low paying jobs with odd working hours with intense humiliation. Now its the worst of all seeing a bright mind losing her life in the most disrespectful state of all. This should never happen to any woman.

I'd also like to question why isn't any big media house covering this news, where are all the international news channels all this time.

What are the students in other medical colleges doing? This talks about their own safety and lives. What are the medical students across the world doing? It's time for us to stand for the most basic Human right, safety.

Yesterday when my roommate, an MBBS final year intern was heading for her night posting, I feared and prayed for her to come back safely. Thinking about it, in a few years I will also have night posting, I'll also return from my hospital duties late at night. I'll also have to go through the same fear, and I'll also have to keep praying that my worst fears don't turn into reality. So many female doctors, nursing staffs, other Healthcare workers, other working women, non-working women go through the same fear, probably multiple times a day.

It is a shame to be born in such a disgusting world and society, it is shame to witness such a brutal crime, and it is a shame to live in this fear daily.

Those RAPISTS need to be hunged infront of the whole natio...if needed burned alive. People should fear the idea of raping, more than getting raped.

[emiliehornby]

when you get me alone (it’s so simple)

pairing luke castellan x fem! child of aphrodite! reader

synopsis while luke is known for making people’s heads turn at camp, you finally give them a reason to stare after learning how much everyone seems to want him

warnings implied sexual content, descriptions of a make out session

author’s notes happy valentine’s day everyone!! the voices in my head were louder than usual, so i figured we could all use a sweet treat today!! mwah!! i hope y’all enjoy these headcanons

On a particularly slow day, the Aphrodite, Athena, Apollo, and Hermes kids decide to spend their free time around the lake. In a glimpse, Luke can be seen laughing with Chris. A radiant smile is plastered upon his lips while he takes in the sight of you. In the distance, Annabeth sits with Grover on a towel, letting her toes wiggle into the warm earth. She watches the water intently, making sure none of her siblings are in any imminent danger when the giggles from Apollo kids, Sadie and Caroline, drown out her thoughts.

“Gods, what I’d give to be in his arms right now.” Annabeth’s ears can’t help but pick up on the conversation taking place beside her. “It’s no surprise he’s taken. But you’d think as a Hermes kid, he’d go for someone more like…us.” Sadie sighs.

Grover leans in closer to Annabeth, his interest piquing when she rolls her eyes. He fears that the daughter of Athena is going to give them a piece of her mind when she stands, but Annabeth merely picks up the frisbee that lands near her feet. She throws it back to where it came from and sits back down to hear Caroline encouraging Sadie, “Come on, it’s only a matter of time before you’ll get your chance. The Aphrodite charm has to wear off eventually. I mean, it always does.”

This time, Grover can’t stop her from turning to them. “Look, you don’t know how things seem to work around here, so I’m going to explain something to you.”

“What Annabeth means to say is that-” The satyr attempts to soothe the situation, but she cuts him off amidst her stubbornness.

“Now, I know not all the Aphrodite kids are palatable, but Y/N is easily the sweetest one I’ve ever known. And there’s a real reason as to why Luke is so in love with her. But I guess you’ll never find that reason for yourselves if you continue to act like this at camp.” This effectively humbles Sadie and Caroline, who mumble to each other while they make their exit.

As if on cue, you walk up to Grover and Annabeth. You’re laughing with a Hermes kid that soon leaves to join the game of frisbee, but it dies down when you notice Annabeth’s hardened stare. You place a hand on her shoulder, “What’s wrong?” 

Grover stands and hands over your towel while insisting it’s nothing. But Annabeth cuts Grover off again to explain, “Sadie and Caroline were saying things about you…and Luke.” You understand what she’s trying to imply and give her a squeeze.

It was no secret that Luke was well admired among his peers. Most of the time, it isn’t even an issue, but there were campers who thought they could change the course of your relationship every now and then.

Sadie and Caroline easily fall under that category, seeing as they completely ignored your existence when Luke decided to take you with him during their initial tour around camp…then there was the time Caroline pretended to lose her way at camp as an excuse to get Luke away from you and alone with her. And just two weeks ago, Sadie feigned hopelessness during a sword skills session. As the instructor, it was Luke’s job to adjust her form. However, it was glaringly obvious the Apollo girl had an ulterior motive, especially when she threw a snarky smile in your direction when she thought you weren’t looking.

“Oh…You don’t have to worry about that, Annie. I can handle myself just fine.” You reassure Annabeth to the best of your ability. She nods and stands to settle herself into your side.

In your peripheral vision, Luke is jogging over to you with his shirt in hand. You don’t miss the way Sadie and Caroline ogle at the thin layer of sheen coating his flexing muscles and the lines running down Luke’s back that aren’t actually sparring scars, despite what you tell the curious kids that help him out in the infirmary. You smile when he pats Annabeth’s arm and leans over to press a kiss to your forehead. “Hey, is it time to head back already?” He asks, putting his shirt on as Annabeth checks her watch.

She huffs, “Unfortunately. We should get going if we don’t want to be late. I still have to grab my dagger.”

It’s a comfortable walk back, and when you reach the Athena cabin, Annabeth bids you two goodbye and runs inside. Luke’s hand is loosely intertwined with yours as you lead him to the Aphrodite cabin. He raises his eyebrows, asking, “Did you need something from your cabin? I thought you were working on archery right now.”

You push the door open, sheepishly admitting, “I am, but I was actually thinking of skipping out on lessons today.”

Luke’s tone is suddenly laced with concern, “Are you okay? Did something happen at the lake?” He drops your hand to check you over, but his touch doesn’t stray far from your waist to prevent you from moving away. But the gesture is welcomed and you take a step forward, a shy smile peeking through the corners of your lips.

His worry for you falters, mirroring your love struck expression, “Oh,” Luke pinches your side. You shove his chest with a shriek. “You’re awful.” He tells you, but he’s already got a hand tracing lightly over your cheek.

Your gaze switches from his dark eyes down to his lips, “You love me.” and that’s all it takes for Luke to dip down his head and meet you halfway. Your hands reach down under his shirt, feeling the warmth radiating from his toned torso. You bite down on his lower lip, and you know you’ve sent Luke’s head spinning when he lets out a short whimper. He attempts to deepen the kiss, but you pull away before he gets the chance.

Your eyes flutter open, whispering, “Do you want to skip lessons with me?”

Luke’s lips are lingering above yours when he responds, “Did you even have to ask?” and pulls you onto your bed. He settles his back against the wall and hums in content when you begin to pepper pecks on his jawline. 

After a moment, you pretend to move off of him, “I don’t know…you were pretty excited for combat training earlier. Maybe I should just let you go.”

In retaliation, Luke’s blunt nails dig into your waist, “Don’t you dare.”

A warmth flutters through your stomach when you hear the desperation in his voice. Your fingers itch to tangle themselves in Luke’s ravenous curls, lightly pulling so he can look up at you. A deceptively innocent smile paints your lips and you don’t skip a beat to get him back on you.

Heavy breaths. Discarded shirts. Whispered promises. This is how you spend the next hour in between your skipped lessons and the nightly bonfire. It’s nice, but you know it’s your cue to take a step back when the crowd of kids crawling outside the cabin becomes heavily audible.

You’re still on Luke’s lap when you say, “You look so pretty like this.” Your eyes flicker from his own to his kiss swollen lips and rowdy hair. There’s an urge to run your fingers through them, but you settle for lightly tracing over the fresh love bites that are scattered across his neck and collarbone.

Luke smiles dopily while you admire your work, “I think we should skip lessons more often.”

You finally get off of him, throwing his shirt to his chest while you smooth yours out, “Don’t be such a bad influence, you’re a camp counselor.” You can’t help but stare again when the marks heavily peek out near his collar, fading in between the orange fabric.

Luke notices your longing gaze and walks over to you, “You know, you’re not the only one with charm in this relationship. I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, okay. Let’s go, lover boy.” You roll your eyes and take his hand. You stumble on your way out, but Luke is there to catch you. He chuckles and lets his arm rest over your shoulders while you reach up to hook your hand with his. He helps you find your footing until your legs wake up on the way to the amphitheater.

“Wait,” You halt just before you reach the steps. You grab Luke’s necklace, gently pulling him in. You let your hands rest on each side of his marked up neck and he hisses at the feeling of your fingers gently pressing on his sore skin. Luke bites down on your lip in response, savoring the hint of watermelon that seeps through until you pull away, “Just wanted one more.”

You’re satisfied once you see the hint of pink gloss smeared at the corners of his mouth. He takes your hand again, guiding you inside. You spot some of your sisters, greeting them with a wave. They giggle at you two in response, whispering frantically to each other while you find an empty space at the front of the bonfire.

“Hey, is anyone sitting here?” Luke asks Sadie, who happens to be standing to his left alongside Caroline. Chris, who’s sitting a step above them, unashamedly howls with laughter at the sight. He leans forward to clap Luke on the back, catching the attention of Grover, who sighs in embarrassment, and Annabeth, who’s trying her best not to giggle at the sight of a gobsmacked Sadie. She and Caroline shake their heads frantically, broken words bubbling from their throats as they take in Luke’s glossy, blissful smile that he throws at you.

They finally give you the time of day, noticing that the reason for his contentment comes from your own swollen lips. You look back at them with a smile and take your rightful seat next to Luke, who wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer, watching as they go back to their siblings to start tonight’s singalong.

If the fire glows a little greener as Sadie and Caroline lead the singalong, no one comments on it. They all know better than to mess with the insatiable charm you hold on Luke. After all, you are your mother’s daughter.

[prying-pandora666]

I don’t know how to say this tactfully, but I’ll do my best.

If other fans online have convinced you to see the gentle, optimistic, empathetic, fun loving, whimsical, forgiving, wise beyond his years genocide survivor, as a sexist, racist, xenophobic, abusive, pro-colonization, sexual assault perpetrator who doesn’t care about anyone else and doesn’t understand trauma…

You have been LIED TO.

Please just think for a moment!

ATLA was banned in China from the beginning for a reason. Because they didn’t want anyone empathizing with a character based on Tibetan monks. Why? Because they are an actual oppressed and persecuted minority IRL. Their religious leader lives in exile. Their second most important spiritual figure is the youngest political prisoner ever taken (and to this day no one knows if he’s alive or dead!). China has actual prison and labor camps. Tibetan people get sent there for “re-education”.

Can you please think about what these “fans” are saying when they stomp all over this allegory in TLA and try to frame Aang as the oppressor?

Do you really think it’s appropriate or these people who call Aang all these horrible (and inaccurate) things are being in anyway fair when they call Aang “white coded”???

Even without the real world context, Aang is explicitly the only survivor of a genocide. The last of his people. He has lost more than anyone else in the entire franchise. There’s a reason he clings so hard to Appa.

Do you think it’s fair to compare a 12 year old misreading signals and trying to kiss a girl who already consensually kissed him before, and immediately backing off and giving her space when she says no, to rape?

Tweens and teens miscommunicating and trying to comfort each other with kisses, only to realize that’s not what their friend needed and immediately backing off is the same as having your body violently violated against your will? The same as having your “no” ignored?

How do you think this makes survivors feel? To see people use their experiences as a shield and cudgel for ship discourse? It certainly upsets me as someone who experienced intimate partner violence, let me tell you! And I know I’m not the only one.

And how is it in anyway feminist or pro-Katara to ignore her own agency and deep love she shows for Aang? Yes, that includes her own crush on him! It IS reciprocated!

Lastly, you don’t need to demonize Aang to ship whatever you want to ship. Please understand that the majority of these takes are bad faith and born out of bitterness and insecurity over a friggin FANON SHIP.

And none of it is necessary! You can ship whatever you want! You don’t need permission or excuses. You can just ship them! You can make your case for why you like another pairing better without misrepresenting what happened in the show and what these characters are like, let alone what they represent.

There’s already plenty to work with in the show as it is! Otherwise why bother?

I’m imploring fans taken in by persuasive and manipulative metas to please just think about it. Get off social media and rewatch the show for yourself thoughtfully.

It doesn’t need to be like this.

[barcaatthemoon]

rivals || patri guijarro x reader ||

you see patri after an el classico match.

minors dni, 18+, smut ahead

"are you ready to see your girlfriend?" misa teased as she nudged you. there weren't many of your teammates at real madrid who felt comfortable enough with you to tease you like that. misa had been your friend since you were in the spanish youth groups, and had seen firsthand your tumultuous, at best, relationship with patri.

real madrid was not the club that you necessarily wanted to play for in spain, but it was the only madrid team who had made an offer on you. you were a madrid girl through and through. alexia was to barcelona what you were to madrid. your somewhat newfound fame as madrid's golden girl of futbol made the el classico matches even more exciting.

that wasn't the development that made your stomach churn with nervous excitement. the fact that you were sleeping with patri now was wht did it for you. misa was the only one of your teammates who knew that, and she had only found out by walking into your apartment while patri had you bent over the back of your own couch while she fucked you.

"she is not my girlfriend. i have better taste than to date a fucking culer," you snapped at her. misa just laughed as she pulled you against her in a side hug. "i feel good about today. let's take home a win, okay?"

"i'm sure that you can distract your girl and help us out," misa teased. you rolled your eyes at her insistence at referring to patri as 'yours' and shoved her away a bit. as annoyed as you pretended to be, the more that you thought about it, the nicer it sounded to be with someone again.

your last relationship had been a bust, and the reason that you had decided to take a break from dating men for a bit. you had always been comfortable in your sexuality, and for the most part you took no shit about it. if anybody made weird remarks or jokes, you had no qualms kicking them to the curb. david had been a bit different, you had been in deep already when he had begun to change for the worse. by the time that you realized you wanted out, you wondered if it was worth it to start over with someone new.

luckily for you, misa had pulled your head out of your ass about him before too much had happened. she had nearly strangled the both of you when she found out that he was trying to talk you into retirement so you could support him in his "career." misa had always hated him, claiming that he gave bad vibes, but you had ignored him because he was cute and nice to you at a time when a lot of people weren't.

"we're here."

…

patri watched as you walked around the field and comforted your teammates. you had once gotten on her nerves like nobody else ever could, but now she felt wildly different about you. however, you never really seemed ready for more than a quick fuck after a game. it didn't help that the two of you were just barely on civil speaking terms.

"whatever the two of you are doing, it's not working," alexia teased as she stepped up next to patri. it had been an ongoing thing of alexia trying to poach you from madrid. she had been asking you to consider transfering since your athletico madrid days. now, you were too expensive of a player for them to even try to get back if they wanted a decent chance of expanding. all you wanted was to go back to where you had started, but since you refused to leave madrid, you were stuck with real.

"excuse me?" patri sputtered. she didn't think that anybody other than misa was clued in to what was going on between you and her.

"you disappear every single time we go to madrid, and misa mentioned not being able to find (y/n) last time they were here. i'm just putting some pieces together, and i need you to be better in bed so she'll come play with us," alexia said. patri relaxed a bit before she realized exactly what alexia had just said.

"excuse you, (y/n) is perfectly satisfied with me, unlike that douche from before," patri grumbled. alexia smirked as she saw the flare of jealousy in patri's eyes. alexia knew you were sleeping together because claudia had told her, but she had no clue that patri liked you as much as she obviously did.

"at this point, i think aitana has a better chance of recruiting her than you." alexia nudged patri and pointed over to where aitana was being lifted in your arms as you hugged her. once again, that jealousy reared its head and patri stormed over there.

"guijarro," you greeted curtly. it was your first time seeing each other since she had been subbed off. the game was incredibly physical and patri had taken every opportunity to grab you or knock into you. "did your performance to get me carded not exhaust you?"

"that's funny, really. i'd ask if you were okay, but i know how rough you like it," patri said. there was an air of tension around the two of you that was so thick that any random onlooker could probably see it.

"come on, i know you can do better than that. talk dirty to me." you leaned in and whispered that last part to her before you began to walk away. behind you, patri stood there dumbfounded, unsure of what to do. she couldn't just follow you, and she sure as hell wasn't going over to her teammates that had just witnessed that.

…

there was a familiarity in patri's bed that confused you. a part of you knew that things were never supposed to get like this. you were occasional national teammates and club rivals. patri wasn't your girlfriend. a bigger part of you loved the way that patri knew exactly what you needed after a game like that.

for all of the tension and big talk, things were surprisingly tender. patri had pinned you down to the mattress with both of her arms draped across your hips. you desperately tried to buck your hips, but she wasn't giving you an inch. everything moved at patri's pace as her tongue slowly flicked against your clit again and again.

"patri please," you whined. you were resting on your elbows as you stared down at her. she paid you no mind as she ate you out. that wasn't going to be the end of it, this rarely was. patri was warming you up, bringing you close to the edge so that you'd be that much more obedient when she decided that she wanted to fuck you.

"aw, do you want to cum?" patri asked teasingly. she pushed herself up a bit to rest her hands on top of where her hands met on your body. now, you didn't have any friction. the want of it threatened to drive you crazy, which was exactly what patri wanted. she wanted you desperate and begging for you. "i don't know if i'm up for fucking you. that was a pretty rough game that we just played. you know what? i think that i'm kind of tired."

"patri," you whined, kicking your legs beneath her. patri laughed as she moved up your body so that your faces were inches apart. "please, don't leave me like this. make me cum."

"on one condition-," patri moved off of the bed and towards her closet, "-put this on."

in her hands was a bunched up barcelona jersey from a season or two ago. your face twisted in disgust. you had never worn a barcelona jersey in your entire life, and patri knew that. you weren't even thinking about the fact that it was one of patri's old jerseys with her name splayed across the back. all you cared about was the fact that it was a barcelona jersey, the same one they had worn one of the many times that they had beaten you in the finals.

"what's the hold up? i thought that you wanted to cum," patri said. "all you have to do is put it on and turn around for me, then i'll fuck you until you're begging me to stop."

"i can't wear this, and you know it," you told her.

"that's odd because i'm pretty sure that you can," patri teased. the two of you were at a bit of a stand-off, but eventually patri won as the arousal between your legs began to become uncomfortable. you put the jersey on hastily and moved onto your hands and knees for her.

patri bit her lip as she took in the sight of you with her last name on your back. it would never happen in a million years, but patri still soaked it in. she moved in behind you and guided herself towards your entrance. patri's hands gripped your hips as she began to thrust into you from behind.

"oh fuck," you swore under your breath. you were a very vocal person in bed, and patri ate it all up. every seemingly overdramatic sigh and gasp mixing in with soft moans that eventually turned into pleasured screams as her thrusts picked up pace and strength.

patri had her jersey clenched tightly in her fist as she fucked you. there was no regard for anything, not even as she heard the fabric tear a little. behind you, she was muttering in catalan, words you recognized, but didn't completely understand. you couldn't focus on anything other than the white-hot heat ripping through your body as you came around her strap.

the tenderness from before returned as patri flipped you onto your back. she pressed a couple of quick kisses to your lips before she left you on the bed alone. patri got you all cleaned up and brought you a pair of boxers in case you didn't feel like getting up and dressed.

"this isn't going to become a thing," you warned her. patri smirked, as she had heard it at least ten times from you before. she knew that you meant the jersey, which you had yet to remove from your body yet.

"shh, enough of that now," patri told you. you grumbled as she pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "isn't it much more fun fucking than fighting?"

"you just like it because you never win our fights," you shot back. patri rolled her eyes as she pulled you into her arms, where you were settled in for the night. patri assumed that you fell asleep instantly, and if you didn't bring up the picture of you 'asleep' on her chest in her jersey, it was nobody's business.

[candylix]

one little lie | hyung line (part 3)

Pairing • FWB!Minho x Fem!Reader x Hyung Line

A/N • This is part 3! You can see the series masterlist here.

Summary • The boys have one rule in their shared apartment. Don't bring girls over for sex. So when Chan, Hyunjin, and Changbin walk in on Minho fucking the living daylights out of you in the living room, he has to lie to save his own skin. His excuse? That's not a girl under him... you're a sex robot. And now they all want to try you out.

Genre • smut, sci-fi ish? (sex robots are a thing in this world that people know about and use)

WC • 2.9k

Content • reader pretends to be a sex robot, free use, dubcon, groping, dry humping, sexual comments, piv penetration (with feelings!), clit stimulation, orgasm denial, riding

Minho walks you out of the bathroom, and you arrive to the empty living room. Chan was definitely still recovering after what he just did, but where were the other two?

You sit on the couch, right in front of the coffee table that started it all. This would have been a completely different day if you fucked in his room instead. Maybe you would've had to try and sneak out of the apartment without being caught. That would've been thrilling.

But you have to admit, today was fun too.

You hear Minho's phone vibrate in his pants, and he takes it out to see who's texting him.

"Oh, it's Jisung. He says he's gonna be here very soon."

"Talking to the robot? I know you're lonely, but come on."

Hyunjin strolls into the room, wearing nothing but loose, cotton pajama pants. You freeze, eyes staring straight ahead. As soon as he sees you sitting pretty in the middle of the couch, he stops caring about whatever he was going to do, and makes his way towards you.

Minho's eyes furrow, but he ignores Hyunjin's teasing to text Jisung back.

Hyunjin takes a seat behind you, and snakes one hand under your shirt to fondle your boobs.

"Do we have to give her back?" he whines.

"Yes..." Minho says, and looks back up from his phone, only to see Hyunjin groping you like he wasn't even there. "Do you have to be doing that? Have some decorum."

"I literally saw you with your dick in her a few hours ago. You don't get to talk."

As if to spite Minho, he moves himself to sit behind you, and both his hands travel under your shirt and to your chest. He continues squeezing you, palms rubbing over your nipples until they poke out under his hands. He pulls and pinches them, and you try to suppress the noise you make, but a soft whimper slips out anyway. You feel something hard press against your lower back— he's turned on. You sit there as he fondles you, and his erection grows stiffer. Suddenly, you feel movement, and you realize Hyunjin has started rubbing his dick against you. He grinds his cock against your ass, slightly bouncing you up and down, and Minho just stares in silence at the scene unfolding in front of him. His own erection forms as he watches Hyunjin grope and dry hump you. Unconsciously, his hand lowers down to palm at his crotch.

Finally, Changbin walks in, and when he sees Hyunjin humping you on the couch, he kicks him out from behind you. Reluctantly, Hyunjin stops, and his hands come out from under your shirt. He moves to sit beside you once again.

"Do that in private, man. Gross."

"Well, Minho liked it," Hyunjin says, and Minho's cheeks flush.

"What? No! I was in shock! I can't believe you did that."

"Mmhm. Sure. Look where your hand is right now."

Minho looks down, and his eyes widen when he sees his hand mindlessly rubbing his bulge. He yanks his hand away, and you can see the huge mound that has formed.

"Both of you need help," Changbin says, and leaves for the kitchen.

A moment later, Chan walks in, and sees you on the couch.

"Oh, she comes with clothes?" he asks

"Of course she has clothes," Minho says pointedly, "I had to bring her here, and I'm not gonna be seen carrying a naked woman around with me."

"I don't know what you're into," Chan says, and walks to take a seat on the couch beside you. You're sandwiched between these two men, and Chan's hand lays itself on your thigh. Unlike Hyunjin, he doesn't go any further than that.

"He's into watching people fuck the sex robot," Hyunjin says, snickering at Minho's face getting progressively more red.

Chan's face drops. Apparently, it wasn't just 'bros helping bros' for Minho.

You hear someone pounding on the front door, startling everyone in the room, and saving Minho from this uncomfortable conversation. The door knob rattles frantically, but the door is locked, so whoever's there goes back to banging on the door.

Minho is more than happy to leave them and go open the door, and no one is surprised when Jisung reveals himself on the other side. He barrels into the apartment, almost pushing Minho down, and his eyes fix on you.

He swings his arm out to point at Chan.

"Get your nasty ass hand off of her, fiend!" he yells.

Chan raises his hands up, and Jisung points at Hyunjin next.

"And you. Put a shirt on!"

"This is literally my apartment," Hyunjin says, shrugging off Jisung's complaint.

Changbin runs back into the living room with a half empty water bottle, raised like a club.

"What the hell is that- oh. Hi, Jisung." He lowers down his improvised weapon.

"Hey," Jisung says calmly, as if none of that just happened.

"Here for your girlfriend?" Changbin asks, intending to make fun of him, but his words bounce off Jisung easily.

"Yes," he says, and turns to the men on the couch, "Now bring her to me!"

Chan and Hyunjin look at each other, look back to Jisung, and when he signals for them to come, they lift you up and walk you to him. Jisung gently grasps your shoulders, and looks into your eyes.

"Blink once if you're ok."

The two men standing behind you roll their eyes at his theatrics, unaware that you can and do respond. You blink, and he breathes a sigh of relief. Jisung holds you close to his chest, and looks back at the men in the room.

"Well, thanks for using my robot without permission. I definitely wanted you to do that," he says, fake annoyance in his voice.

"Not sorry," Changbin says, walking over to where the rest of you are standing. "She was great."

"Can you send me the link to the store? I want one for myself," Hyunjin asks.

"You can't buy these online," Jisung responds, not missing a beat.

Unlike Minho, Jisung is good at coming up with excuses that are actually believable. You've known him a long time; it's a skill he developed while asking for homework extensions and calling in sick to work.

"Oh," Hyunjin says, "is there a physical location I can go to?"

"No the store burnt down. It's closed forever," Minho says, words tumbling out of his mouth faster than he can think. Jisung side-eyes him.

"Anyway, I gotta go now," Jisung interjects. He opens the door to leave, and Minho wraps an arm under you to walk you out.

"Bring her back sometime!" Chan yells out.

"No!" Jisung yells back, and closes the door.

When they're finally out in the hallway, Jisung smacks the back of Minho's head.

"Ow, what was that for!?"

Minho unwraps his hand from around you, and clasps the sore spot on his head.

"Everything," Jisung says. "Never try to lie again. You're terrible at it."

"Agreed," you say.

You walk back to Jisung's car. Minho takes the front seat, so you sit at the back while Jisung drives. Everyone sits in silence, not sure what to say after all that happened. You take this time to reflect. You know what a rational person would think about all this, but they've fucked the rationality out of you. All things considered, if Minho wanted to 'borrow' you again… you don't know that you'd be opposed.

"So…" Jisung starts, interrupting the silence. "Can I use the sex robot too?"

This time it was Minho's turn to smack him on the head.

"I was joking!" Jisung says defensively. Minho raises his hand again, and Jisung shields himself with his arm.

"Hide your boner before you say that," Minho responds.

"What? I'm not-" he glances down, noticing the tent springing up in his pants. "This is just because I love driving. Traffic is so sexy."

"God, you're so annoying. Why am I even friends with you?"

"Excuse me. I just saved your ass."

You laugh at your two friends bickering in the front seats. They can be stupid sometimes, but you're glad to have them around.

"Thank you, Jisung," you say, and they both quiet down.

"Thanks," Minho says softly.

You can see a smile form on Jisung's face in the rear view mirror.

"Don't mention it. I'll always be here for you both."

You finally arrive back home, and you hug Jisung goodbye. Minho walks with you into your apartment.

The first thing you do is collapse onto the couch. It was a long day, you're tired, and all you want to do is lie down.

"Come on, you need to wash up properly," Minho says, attempting to lift you up.

You don't budge. Minho gives up, and falls on top of you, squishing you under him.

"Hey!" you laugh, and you try to push him off, but he holds onto you.

"I thought we were laying down," he says, smiling as you struggle under him, until you finally manage to push him off. He rolls onto the floor, laying on his back. He looks up at you, and sighs.

"I'm sorry about all that. I should've just..."

"It's ok," you say, and he sits up.

"No, that was a shitty thing to do."

"Minho, really. I had fun."

His face finally softens up.

"Yeah, I could see that," he says, smirking. You throw a cushion at him.

"Don't give me that look. I saw you jerking yourself off in the living room."

He pauses.

"Fuck. They saw me do that. I'm never gonna live that down. And I didn't even get to cum," he says, collapsing back to the floor. "Why did they come home so early."

You feel bad for the guy. All his roommates got to fuck you, when the whole plan was for him to do it. You saw his dick bulging in his pants more times than you actually saw his dick today. He was probably horny as hell, but trying to keep it together.

His face is buried in his hands as he thinks about all the embarrassing things he did in front of his roommates.

You just wanted to tease him more.

"Yeah, I bet they're talking about it right now," you say. He groans. "I bet they're talking about how you helped Chan fuck me. How you bounced me on his dick and watched him cum inside me."

He squeezes his legs together. The teasing is working.

"I bet you wanted to watch the others too, right? You didn't get to see Hyunjin fucking himself on my boobs."

Minho moans, and you can tell he wasn't expecting it, because he turns to hide his face from you.

"And Changbin... he was so thick. He completely stretched me out. You should've seen the way he pounded into me. He could barely fit inside."

"You're killing me," Minho whispers.

"Remember what Jisung said in the car? I'm sure you would've loved to see him pull over and fuck me in the backseat-"

"Alright!" he shouts, interrupting you.

He suddenly stands up, with a massive protrusion in his crotch. Without warning, he pulls down your pants, and then his own, and you see his hard, leaking cock throbbing in front of you. He wastes no time climbing on top of you. He pulls off your shirt, and throws it across the room.

"You really want to see me horny, huh? Well guess what, it worked."

He grabs your wrists and holds them over your head with one hand. He did this after your time with Hyunjin, when he was wiping you down, but you don't think he'll be as gentle this time.

"Do you know how hard it was, seeing their cum all over you, and not fucking you then and there?"

At those words, you can feel yourself getting wet. You've never seen him like this before.

His free hand goes to his cock, positioning it at your entrance. He pushes it to your core, but doesn't put it in. It throbs against you, desperate and needy, and your pussy throbs with it.

"I was trying not to overwhelm you, but it looks like I should've just fucked you every time we went to the bathroom together."

He punctuates his sentence by ramming his cock in you. It hits you hard, and you can't help the moan that comes out.

"While I was waiting for you to finish, you were getting drunk on all their cocks, huh? You like getting fucked like a sex toy?"

He rams his dick inside you again, and you moan louder.

"I'll use you like one, then."

His hands move to your waist, and he thrusts into you, again and again, finally getting to fuck you after watching all his friends fuck you first. His bucking is desperate and frantic, and you barely have time to process the way his dick plows into you before it's taken out and slammed back in.

One hand moves to your clit, and you moan out his name as he rubs circles around it. You twitch under his touch, the stimulation from inside and out of your pussy leaving you unable to control yourself. He watches you writhe on the couch, brain turned to mush as he fucks you senseless.

How he feels is paradoxical— he liked watching you get fucked, but he needed you to want him more.

He leans over you, thrusting into you deeper, and grabs your boobs.

"Did you like it when Hyunjin did this?" he asks, and gives them a squeeze. You answer his question with a moan, and he kneads into your breasts. You can feel your orgasm growing as he continues bucking into you, and your nipples harden under his hands. He pulls your nipples when he thrusts into your g-spot, and you can feel yourself about to reach your climax.

"I'm gonna cum," you moan, and he immediately stops. You feel his dick slide out against your walls, and you whimper at the empty feeling he leaves you with. Your core aches from the loss of contact, throbbing as your orgasm slowly disappears.

"Not yet."

He carries you up from the couch, making you stand up while he takes a seat. His legs are slightly spread apart, and he holds his throbbing cock up, but it's so hard that it might as well be standing up on it's own.

"Sit down," he commands, and you waste no time climbing onto his lap. He guides you onto him, and you feel his cock fill you up as you lower yourself down. Soon, his entire dick throbs inside you, hot and stiff as it presses into a sensitive spot.

"I'll make you feel better than Chan did," he whispers, and a chill runs down your spine.

He takes one of your nipples into his mouth, licking on and around it, and he kneads your other boob with his hand. He rolls his hips into you, his free arm holding your waist to keep you steady, and you melt into the feeling. His cock pumps into you, slow at first, but he speeds up as his own need builds. Your head leans back as you feel your orgasm coming, and you buck into him. His dick hits you harder as you bounce into it, and he moans into your boob. He breaks away from your chest to watch you fuck yourself on his dick. Your eyes are closed, mouth slightly open, and you moan loudly when he bucks his hip forcefully into you.

His hips roll into you faster now, watching you moan and twitch on his lap. You can feel your orgasm come quickly, and one last thrust into your g-spot takes you over the edge. You feel his dick keep pounding into you as your walls clench, and you gush around his cock. The pressure on his dick, and moan that comes out of you, are enough to take him into his own orgasm. He bucks into you wildly, and you feel his hot liquid spurt out inside you as he moans your name.

He leans back into the couch in exhaustion. You're too tired to get yourself off him, so you grab his chest to hold yourself up.

He admires how you look, breathing heavily after being fucked, sitting on his lap with his cock still buried deep inside you. He could stay here forever with you like this.

"Who was better?" he asks, "Me, or them?" He rolls his hips into you, and you twitch from how sensitive you are.

"You," you say, still breathless from what just happened.

"Of course I am."

He helps you off of his lap, and you collapse onto the couch next to him.

"Still, if you want me to 'borrow' you again, let me know. I'm sure they'd love to see you again."

You're too tired to respond, so you just nod your head.

The atmosphere surrounding the rest of the evening is very warm. He cleans you up thoroughly, and you order takeout to eat for dinner. He puts on a movie, and you fall asleep on his shoulder halfway through. When the movie ends, he carries you to your bed and tucks you in. He considers leaving, but you look so comfortable, so instead he joins you under the covers and snuggles up to you. Soon, he falls asleep too.

He dreams of Jisung fucking you in the backseat of his car.

Here's what Jisung was up to during the events of the story

taglist:

@loeyscock @0325tiny @5starlee @miupow @mapofthemazeinthemirror @sadrosessing @luminouskalopsia @minghaosimp @curiousgworge @azuna-sz @piscesrising01 @g-bbzz @extrhotjne @nabi-tokoshi @kpopsstuffs

@weareapackofstrays @jabmastersupriseee @neko-squidblog @lurking-coconut @kiaralynn3838

@chanssmiles @linos-kitten

This is the end! Thanks for reading everyone! This was meant to be the end of the series, but a lot of people have asked for more, and I really enjoyed writing it, so eventually there will be more parts! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! For now, here's the series masterlist, and maybe by the time you see this I've already written more.

[serana666]

Getting on my soapbox about something I think is REALLY important for chronically ill ppl to think about.

Being undiagnosed and disabled is a terrible experience. You’re screaming into the medical void for ANYONE to please SEE YOU and help. You start thinking “is it just me? Could it just be in my head? What’s wrong with ME?”

And I’m here to tell you, it’s 👏🏻NOT YOU👏🏻 it’s THEM. (The doctors)

I have been through the grueling process of becoming totally disabled by chronic illness, without knowing what it could be. I picked up diagnosis’ along the way: RA, then lupus, then fibro. And I am LUCKY that my blood worked with me to show those things, not everyone is so lucky.

I kept thinking (foolishly buying into the narrative doctors try and sell you) that if I could just get a *serious* diagnosis I would finally be given access to the care I needed, that ALL disabled people need. That was never the case at any step in the process.

When I was diagnosed with RA and began having symptoms outside of it, that were completely debilitating my rheumatologist told me I just needed more exercise and activity. I told them specifically I had fatigue so strong that I was loosing the ability for basic functioning.

When I found a new rheumatologist and was diagnosed with lupus I thought my troubles were over. Then she started saying weird shit like “do you have a boyfriend? You’re so pretty!”

She found out I was a lesbian when I brought my girlfriend to my appointment to be my advocate. Her whole demeanor changed to me and I spent 6-8 months with her receiving no treatment. They kept saying “oh it’s the insurance” nope they sent me letters telling me this office was not following up.

So I moved to a blue state literally out of fear that I would die waiting on these bigoted doctors. I got a rhum in a blue state. I was diagnosed with secondary fibro. Again, I foolishly believed I would finally be in the clear. No, she still minimizes and blinks at me when I describe my pain.

Doctors are not our allies, even though they should be above all else. They find ANY excuse to minimize us. So if you are someone who is undiagnosed or with a diagnosis that is misunderstood/not taken seriously , they will milk that for all it’s worth. 👏🏻ITS NOT YOU👏🏻

I’ve seen people in disabled communities minimized for their race, their weight, their gender, their sexuality/queerness, their age, their diagnosis or the lack thereof, ITS NOT YOU!

You know your body, and the pain you feel BETTER than any doctor that has been trained to systemically ignore you!

Don’t let them tell you what your reality is. It’s such a knee jerk reaction for minorities to do this to themselves.

You deserve medical care that isn’t contingent on your doctors bias’. We NEED more empathy. Don’t let their disregard for your life leak into the love you NEED to give yourself. 💕

[mrprettywhenhecries]

worth the squeeze [s.h]

Two. Hey, Video Boy

↪︎ a Stranger Things/The Girl Next Door AU

Steve Harrington ✗ f!Reader

➺ w.c. 3.1k words ➺ tags/warning(s). no use of y/n, reader character uses she/her pronouns, sexual tension, reader is a vicious flirt ➺ a/n. I know it's been a while between updates, so thank you for your patience! Hopefully you're all still as excited about this fic as I am. A huge shout out to @batterycityghoul & @super-unpredictable98 for being my beta-readers and helping me pin down Steve's voice. I couldn’t do this without you guys. ➺ Dividers by @/cafekitsune.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💚

Steve tells his friends about his lucky encounter the night before, only for you to show up at the video store to visit him at work and invite yourself over for a movie night afterwards.

[ masterlist]

“Dude, you never called me back last night!” Tommy exclaimed, leaning against the front counter as Steve checked in a stack of returned tapes, pausing between scanning each case to type something into the computer.  “Did anything happen after she caught you watching her?” he asked, wearing his usual shit-eating grin.

“Wait, what?  Who’re you talking about?” Robin asked from the terminal next to him, and Steve gave a start, realizing he’d forgotten to tell her about the girl next door, too distracted by the memory of the night before.

“Oh yeah, right,” he exclaimed, snapping his fingers.  “There’s this girl that just moved in next door—well, she’s staying there while her aunt’s away—but, I uh, I accidentally saw her changing through the window—”

“Steve!” Robin interrupted with a disgusted groan while Tommy barked a laugh.

“Yeah, accidentally,” he snickered, making Robin roll her eyes.

“Alright, so then what happened?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest, sensing there was more to the story.

Steve leaned back against the counter, pitching his voice a little lower in case any customers were within earshot.

“So then, she showed up at my front door, acting like nothing happened, even though I know she saw me, but I took a chance and invited her in.”

“Oh, shit!” Tommy exclaimed, bouncing excitedly on his toes, his impish grin growing.  “Did you bone her?  Please tell me you boned her!”

Steve’s grin grew strained and he cleared his throat.  “I mean, not exactly,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes darting away. “We went out to the pool and she told me it was only fair that I strip for her, since I got a show...”

“Oh my God,” Robin snorted, covering her smirk.  “I like this girl already.”

“So, she got you naked and nothing happened?” Tommy scoffed in disbelief, throwing his hands in the air as he pushed back from the counter.

“We went skinny dipping and we… almost kissed," Steve muttered.

“You didn’t even kiss her?  What the hell is wrong with you, man?” Tommy cried incredulously.  “Sounds like she was practically begging for it and you choked.  God, you’re such a pussy!” 

“I didn’t choke!” Steve exclaimed defensively, his brows knitting together.  “I just don’t want her to be just another notch in my bedpost,” he sighed.

“Well, I for one, am proud of your restraint,” Robin said, pointedly ignoring the obnoxious face Tommy made in response.  “For once you’re not acting like a complete dingus.”

“Thanks Robin,” Steve murmured, pushing his hair from his eyes.  “I promised her a real date, but I’m still trying to decide where to take her,” he mused, planting his hands on his hips.

Tommy snapped his fingers before pointing at Steve.  “Tina’s party tomorrow night!” he exclaimed.  “It’ll be perfect.”

Steve nodded slowly.

“That might be good actually,” he agreed, brightening at the idea.

“A party?” Robin scoffed.  “You really want your first official date to be some shitty house party?” she asked, earning herself a sneer from Tommy.

“What, you jealous cause you didn’t get invited, Buckley?” he taunted, his grin turning ugly.

“No, those parties are just lame excuses for people to get wasted and rub up on each other so they can forget for a moment just how depressing their sad little lives are,” she countered with a scoff.

“Oh yeah, she’s jealous,” Tommy laughed, smacking his palm on the counter before pointing at Steve again.  “I’ll see you there, buddy,” he said, bobbing his eyebrows before turning on his heel and heading for the door.  “Can’t wait to meet this new babe of yours!” 

As soon as Tommy was gone, Robin fixed Steve with an unimpressed stare.  “Remind me again why you’re still friends with him?”

Steve glanced at the door ruefully before back at Robin.  “We’ve been friends since elementary school,” he explained with a helpless shrug.

“Yeah well, he’s a dick.”

“You used to think that about me too, remember?” Steve reminded her, picking up the stack of tapes he’d just checked in and dropping them on a cart to re-shelve.

“Yeah, but you changed.  He hasn’t,” Robin snorted, pushing the cart down the first aisle.

“Do you really think inviting her to Tina’s party is a bad idea?” Steve asked, looking down at the case in his hand before handing it to Robin.  

“Cause I didn’t wanna come on too strong,” he said, gesturing with his hands as he searched for the right words to explain.  “I dunno, I’ve just done the whole dinner and a movie thing so many times and they always end the same…”

Robin nodded.  “I guess I see what you mean,” she agreed reluctantly.  “But do you think taking her to a party is gunna end any differently?” she asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow at him.

The door opened with a chime and Robin recited the official Family Video greeting without looking up, but Steve froze when he realized who had just walked in.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, louder than he’d meant to, and you grinned as he stepped around Robin.  “What’re you doing here?” he asked, wincing at how it sounded.  “I mean, not that you can’t be here or anything!  You just… surprised me,” he explained quickly, trying to lean nonchalantly against the shelf and missing, stumbling backward for a moment before righting himself, a disgruntled look on his face at his lack of coordination.

You had to bite your lip not to laugh, not wanting to bruise Steve’s ego further.  “I’ve been going around town, getting some job applications, and I thought I’d stop by to say ‘hi’, if that’s okay,” you said, offering Steve a smile and he was quick to nod.

“Yeah, of course it’s okay, you can stop by anytime!  I-it’s good to see you,” he exclaimed, wearing a dazed grin of his own that faltered when Robin cleared her throat next to him.

“Oh, uhm, this is my friend, Robin,” he said, gesturing to her before introducing you.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you chuckled, shaking Robin’s hand.

“Same,” she exclaimed, a wicked grin twisting her lips.  “You musta made quite the impression on Steve here, because he has not shut up about you,” he said, turning her cheshire smile on Steve and your brows rose at the colour that rushed to his face.

“Really?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow at him, finding his reaction adorably endearing.

Steve cleared his throat and shrugged, reaching back to rub sheepishly at his neck.  “I might’ve mentioned something about you.”

“Uh huh,” you replied skeptically, your lips curling, but you didn’t push it.  “So, are you doing anything later, video boy?” you asked, idly picking up one of the nearby VHS sleeves from the shelf to glance at before setting it back.  “I know technically we haven’t gone on an official date yet, but I was wondering if you’d like to watch a movie together at your place tonight?”

Steve swallowed, trying desperately to keep his thoughts pure, and struggling.

“Yeah, sure,” he answered, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips.  “I’ll even let you pick out the movie.”

“Oh, you’ll let me?  How chivalrous of you,” you teased, ambling down the aisle with the new releases.

“Any genres to avoid?” you asked, your eyes flicking to Steve as he followed.

“Uh, not really,” he admitted.  “Though, I prefer comedies.”

You nodded, thinking for a moment, letting your gaze scan the shelves before plucking out a tape.  “How ‘bout Better Off Dead?  Or have you seen that already?” you asked, half figuring he’d already seen most of the films there.

“Actually, I haven’t, but it sounds good,” Steve replied, peering over your shoulder at the box in your hand.

“You mean you work at a video store and you’re not some hardcore cinephile?” you asked with a smirk and Steve shrugged a shoulder, running a hand through his hair, pushing it to the side.

“Nah, not really.”

“He’s hopeless!” Robin called from across the store, her cart of returns nearly empty.  “I was the only reason he got this job in the first place.  This dingus knows next to nothing about movies,” she laughed, making your smirk grow.

“Well, maybe I can educate you then,” you said, turning back to Steve, finding him closer than you realized and your breath hitched.

“I like the sound of that,” he replied, tilting his head in closer, his breath fanning across your cheek.

“Good, I’ll see you at seven then, and I’ll bring the popcorn,” you said, wetting your lips as you lifted your chin, lingering in his space for a moment longer before slipping around him to head to the counter, turning back to him with a playful grin.

“You gunna check me out, video boy?” you teased, and he had to take a moment to compose himself before following, flashing you a wry look.

“I’ll put it on my account, employee discount,” Steve said as you passed him the case and he scanned the barcode on the back.  “Just don’t forget to return it in two days.  I’d hate to get hit with a late fee,” he joked, his eyes flicking up to yours playfully.

“Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure I’ll be in here frequently, for one reason or another,” you said, taking the tape and waving to Robin.  “See you later!” you called, returning your focus to Steve with a wink.  “And I’ll see you later.”

As soon as you turned to leave, Robin joined Steve behind the counter.

“I definitely like her,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder.  “You better not mess this up.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Steve breathed, finally tearing his gaze away from the door and letting his forehead fall to the counter.

It was only a few minutes past seven when you rang the Harringtons’ doorbell, finally having settled on an outfit after trying on and discarding several—wanting to be comfortable, but still look cute.  Steve opened the door with a grin, sparing a moment to look you up and down before stepping aside and ushering you in.

“I brought some Jiffy Pop,” you said, handing him the little aluminum pan and heading for the kitchen.   

“Perfect,” Steve replied, following you. “Can’t watch a movie without fresh popped popcorn,” he exclaimed, setting the pan on the burner and twisting the knob.

“Exactly,” you agreed, jumping up to sit on the counter nearby to wait for the burner to heat up, the little metal coil turning orange.

“So, where all did you get job applications for?” Steve asked, giving the foil pan a shake as several kernels popped inside.

“Oh geeze, all over,” you sighed, running through your list of stops.  “The movie theater, the drug store, a couple gas stations, the book store, oh, and that insurance place on the corner; they’re looking for a secretary.”

The popping grew louder and the foil packet began to grow, soon doubling in size, puffing up into a large dome, steam escaping from the little hole at the top.  Steve turned off the stove and pulled the popcorn off the burner, pouring it into a large tupperware bowl sitting on the counter.

“Wow, sounds like a bit of everything.”

“Yeah, right now I can’t exactly afford to be picky,” you murmured, stealing a piece of popcorn and popping it in your mouth.

“Yeah, I hear you,” Steve commiserated, handing you the bowl and opening the fridge to grab a couple cans of pop.  “That’s pretty much how I ended up at the video store.  Though I gotta say, it’s better than the last job I had slinging ice cream.”

“What was so bad about it?” you asked, following him out to the living room and plopping down on the sofa next to him. “Well, for one, the number of snot nosed brats I had to deal with on a daily basis,” he explained, holding up a finger, “and two, I had to wear this incredibly lame sailor outfit and I looked ridiculous,” he scoffed, adding a second finger before subconsciously running his hand through his hair.

“What?” you cried gleefully, trying to imagine what his little sailor uniform looked like.  “I’m sorry, but that sounds adorable!”

“No, you don’t understand, it was awful!  Did I mention there was a matching hat?” Steve exclaimed.  “It totally messed with my best feature and made me super un-datable.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you countered, knowing you still would’ve given him a chance if he’d been dressed like that when you’d first seen him, instead of his green Family Video vest.

“I’m telling you,” Steve insisted, shaking his head.  “Just ask Robin.  She had this dumb whiteboard with a tally of all the times I struck out,” he added and you couldn’t help but laugh, warmed by the grin that curved his lips despite the unpleasant memory.

Your laughter died down and Steve reached for the remote, starting the movie.

“So, was the ice cream gig your first job?” you asked, grabbing a handful of popcorn as he cracked open his Coke for a sip.

“Mm, yeah,” he answered, swallowing and setting the can down.  “Dad wanted to teach me a lesson,” he murmured, heaving a breath as his gaze lowered.  “I used to be… kind of an asshole,” he admitted.

“Used to be?” you joked, smirking as Steve’s head snapped up and his mouth fell open.

“Hey!” he yelped, though the corners of his mouth twitched and you stuck your tongue out at him playfully.

“Just for that, no more popcorn for you!” he teased, yanking the bowl away from you and you let out a gasp, leaning across him to reach for it, your fingers straining.

“I take it back!” you laughed, your face warming when you realized you were practically draped across Steve’s lap, and by the pink flush that crept across his cheeks, you guessed he was quite aware of it as well, though he made no move to relent and if you stretched any farther, you’d tumble off the side of the couch.

“I dunno, I don’t think you’re all that sorry,” Steve mused, narrowing his eyes at you.

Biting back a smile, you pulled back, flashing him the most innocent face you could make.  “I’ll be nice the rest of the night, promise,” you insisted, tracing an X over your heart and Steve cracked, rolling his eyes.

“Alright, but you’re on thin ice,” he warned with a grin, handing you back the bowl of popcorn.

On the tv screen, the previews had just ended and the opening credits began, punctuated by a scream as a little animated woman was kidnapped by a monster.

Settling in to watch the movie, you felt Steve shift next to you as if he wanted to move closer, but was gauging your reaction, not wanting to overstep.  When you didn’t pull away, Steve’s eyes darted to you and he chewed his lip.  Clearing his throat softly, he stretched, nonchalantly lowering his arm behind your head to rest against the back of the couch.

Smiling to yourself, you tucked your legs up under you and leaned into his side.  Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the pleased smile that crossed his face and you reached for some more popcorn, resting your head against his shoulder.

“So, uhm, there’s this party tomorrow night, and I was thinking we could go together,” Steve ventured casually, glancing over at you, his grin turning uncertain.  “I mean, if you wanted.  I know it’s not exactly a typical first date, but I thought, y’know, it might be fun, and I could introduce you to some people, since you don’t know anyone else in town–”

“Steve,” you said, interrupting his nervous ramble, amusement tinging your voice.

“Yeah?” he asked, cutting off, a hopeful look flickering across his face.

“I’d like that.”

Steve let out a long breath, relaxing muscles he hadn’t noticed he’d tensed.

“You know, you’re pretty cute when you’re all flustered,” you teased and he frowned, his brows furrowing slightly.

“I wasn’t flustered,” he argued.

“Uh huh,” you hummed skeptically, studying his face, mapping every mole and committing their positions to memory before finding his eyes.

“I thought you said you were gunna be nice,” he murmured, wetting his lips as he leaned in.

“I did, didn’t I?” you breathed, your eyelids fluttering as you leaned in as well, your breath catching in anticipation, the movie playing on forgotten in the background.  

However, when the front door opened with a bang, followed by a pair of loud voices, your heart leapt into your throat with a jolt and your eyes snapped open to see Steve jerk back, his head whipping around.

“Mom!  Dad!  You’re back–” he yelped, half rising from the couch and his parents finally seemed to notice the pair of you, straightening hastily, embarrassed they’d been caught mid-argument in front of a stranger.

“I didn’t expect you to be back so soon,” he exclaimed, pausing the movie.

“There was a change of plans,” Mrs. Harrington said, a subtle terseness to her voice that you couldn’t help but notice, remembering what Steve had said about his parents’ precarious relationship.  “We didn’t mean to interrupt, we weren’t aware you’d have company,” she added, eyeing you curiously and you got to your feet, rounding the couch to introduce yourself. “It’s nice to meet you both,” you said, shaking their hands once you’d given your name.  “I’m staying with my aunt next door for a while, and Steve’s been sweet enough to show me around,” you explained, flashing him a smile.

Mr. Harrington seemed distracted, as if he had something else on his mind and couldn’t wait for the conversation to be over, while Mrs. Harrington nodded a little vapidly.

“It’s nice to meet you too, dear.  Please, don’t let us interrupt,” she said, nodding to the television and your paused movie.  “Bill, I need a drink,” she said, ambling out of the room and Mr. Harrington let out an audibly annoyed sigh, grumbling under his breath before picking up his suitcase and following her. Steve groaned softly, a grimace marring his expression.  “I’m sorry about them… they weren’t supposed to be back yet,” he murmured ruefully.

“It’s okay,” you replied, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, wanting to steer his mind away from his parents.  “Let’s watch the rest of the movie, shall we?” you suggested, pulling him back to the couch, and getting comfortable again.

“Yeah, okay," Steve replied, letting himself be led.  As he started up the tape again, he couldn’t help but grin, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.  “Thanks,” he whispered, his eyes meeting yours, a meaningful look passing between you.

“Any time.”

➺ taglist. @super-unpredictable98 @heartbreak-sandwich @santacarlahorrorshow @sailorskunk @whimsicalwadewinstonwilson

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[giuliettagaltieri]

A Hundred Sleepless Nights

Pairing: Husband!Coriolanus Snow x Wife!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: The Beloved

Warning: perversion, explicit smut, unprotected sex, sexual euphoria

Word Count: 3988

5 of 7

Coriolanus thinks he might have made a mistake in choosing your honeymoon destination.

Mrs. Plinth apparently owns a private beach down in the south. She insisted that you spend your honeymoon there as it was more private.

Private.

A scowl made it to Coriolanus’ face the moment you arrived in the secluded beach town. He was still in his suit and you were still in your wedding dress.  Anybody with eyes can see that you were just married.  But the locals knew no shame.

The men, their skin bronze from being on the coast, fit from constantly moving, their faces sculpted manliness. And they seem to have taken a liking to you.

“May I help you with that, Miss?” A man asks you for the third time that night, referring to the handbag you carried. It has your personal effects, you would not trust anyone with it.

“That would not be necessary.” Coriolanus quips, his arm circling around your waist.  The man straightens up and looks Coriolanus up and down before he grins

“Her other baggage, then? You won’t be able to carry them all.”

Coriolanus scoffs and you politely smile at the man. You know Coriolanus is more than capable of lifting baggage but there is too much of it, it seems unreasonable to make your husband carry them all.

“Oh, we have more than enough help. Thank you.” You say sweetly and as if on cue, peacekeepers and porters appear to start putting your bags in the yacht.

The man frowns, his mind whirring before he comes to a realization.

“You’re those politicians who just got married.”

Coriolanus looks at him, his eyes now sharp.

“Does the Capitol news not reach this part of Panem?” He raises a brow.

The man chuckles as he rubs his stubble. “Nah, just don’t watch any of that bullshit.”

“You watch your words very carefully.” Coriolanus grins, the iciness in his tone not matching his charming face. “The Capitol is not very kind to those who call our affairs ‘bullshit’.”

You look at the man with much fascination. You have to commend how he stands his ground, now sizing Coriolanus up, but his lax posture was breaking apart on the surface. Ignorance really has a feeble power to it.

Despite the burliness of this person, you are not too worried about Coriolanus as he had his fair share of training. And the peacekeepers are just waiting for the man to cross that fine intangible line, their postures tight and ready to spring.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us. My wife and I have other places to be.”  Coriolanus leads you to the yacht where your luggage has been placed.

“The impudence of some people.”  Coriolanus spits.  “He does not even recognize the President.”

“I will talk to the mayor.” You attempt to soothe him but he clicks his tongue.

His jaw tightens before he takes a deep breath. “We agreed not to work while we are on our honeymoon.” He says but you can see how excruciating it was for him to say.

You grimace before breaking to a smile.

“If you say so, my love.”

You glance behind you and see the man still staring at you. You turn away when he sends you a boyish smile and a wink.

Coriolanus grunts when you cling to his arm tightly.

“Hurry, Corio.”

He straightens his back and slows his pace. “I see no purpose in rushing.” He’s not running away from anything.

It makes you roll your eyes but you match his pace anyways.  You enjoy the night stroll, the cool breeze refreshing your skin that is trapped in your wedding gown. You wanted to get out of it the moment the reception ended but Grandma’am almost dropped her turban when you mentioned a change of clothing.

Perhaps it was an old Panem tradition but she said only the groom must free you of your bridal gown.

Again with the superstitions but Coriolanus and you both decided you’d listen. A way to apologize after that stunt you pulled in the middle of the reception.  Coriolanus tightens his hold around your waist as you board the yacht.

“I’m hungry.” You tell him. 

He nods. “So am I.”

With the pressure of the ceremony and reception, you did not get to enjoy the food served despite them being of the finest qualities.

“I’d love to have that filet mignon again.”  You sigh as you sit on a sofa.  Coriolanus watches you with a smile.  Your face was full of disappointment and you looked adorable as your poofy gown swallowed you. “And posca.”

“Mhh, agreed.”  He sauntered over to the glass windows. Watching how the hydrofoil cuts the waters below.  The ruffling from your gown makes Corio turn to look at you once more.

You have occupied the entire sofa, now lying on your back as you stared into the tall ceiling. Your eyes have glazed over and he can see how your fingers picked at your gown.

“Tell me what you are thinking.”

Sighing, you close your eyes. He’s always so commanding.

“Nothing.”

He walks over to sit on the armrest. You look up to meet his glacial eyes with your own.

“There is definitely something in there, wife.”

Wife

You bite your bottom lip to contain your smile. Coriolanus raises a brow, his lips quirked up.

“Wife?”

You giggle as you reach up to pinch him but he easily swats your hand away.

“Are you regressing to your teenage self?” He pulls you up and slots himself under you so you are sitting on his lap.

“No.” You answer quickly. Too quickly.

You play with your ring as he watches you, still waiting for you to talk.

“I will hold you the entire night if you refuse to tell me.”

You shrug.  “I’m comfortable.”  His nimble fingers slip to your waist and your breath hitches.

“Yeah?”

You nod hastily.

“Tell me what is going on in that head of yours.”  He whispers against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver to crawl up your spine.

“Corio!”

“Yes?” He flashes you that charming smile again.

“Stop it.” You say, your cheeks are now bubbling.

He tilts his head to the side.  He is fooling nobody with this pretense.

You try to get off but he keeps you in place with a hand.  He is looking around the room now, acting nonchalant to your struggle.  He looks at you with his face passive and you eventually settle.

“Stop making me flustered.”  You raise a finger at him and he grins lazily at you.  The glint of those rather sharp looking canines had you retreating your finger back.

He sets a steady bounce of his leg, jostling you and you click your tongue at him.  “What are you doing?” You grab at his coat to steady yourself.

“Trying to calm your tantrum.”

“I am not a child.” 

His eyes return to the carpeted floor and now just leans back on the sofa.  “I can see that.” You ignore how his eyes roam to your bosom.

“If you must really know, I was thinking of having a new signature.”

A perfect blonde brow was raised. “Signature.”

“I want to keep my maiden name in it but I also wanted to add yours.”

“Ours.”

“Ours.” You echo as you smile at him meekly.

“You are a Snow now.” He reminds you sternly and your cheeks warm up as you nod.

“I know that, Corio.”  You shift in his lap and he rubs your waist.

The air shifts, making it difficult for you to keep still. 

A knock pulls your attention to the door.

“Mister and Missus Snow, we have arrived.”

Coriolanus looks at you and raises both brows briefly as if making a point.

You roll your eyes and get off, he lets you this time.

The private beach.  Well, more like a private island.  It was like how every beach shown in brochures is.

The staff is already waiting by the docks, standing tall and in uniformed clothing.

“Don’t worry, Missus Snow.  The staff will be here only until seven in the evening.”  The head butler tells you as he escorts you and your husband off the yacht.

“The security?”  Coriolanus looks around the island, taking in every face that was present.

The butler nods, a proud smile on his lips.

“Stationed just in this dock and on the ocean.”

You would love to have privacy but not if it meant compromising you and your husband’s safety.

“Peacekeepers are also stationed on the coast.”  The head butler reassures you.  “This island is also being covered by the most recent security offered by District 3.  We have sonars covering the waters.  There is no need to be uneasy.”

It was these kinds of over the top operations that reminds you that it is the President you have married.  His security can easily topple the peace that the retired President Ravinstill tried so hard to maintain.

“The staff will come to prepare your meals and leave after the dishes are cleaned up.  The day after tomorrow, the cleaning crew will take care of the linens and your laundry.”  The staff bows at you as you pass by them.  “Should you need something else.  We are a call away.  We are stationed in the ocean to respond right away to your every need.”

You share a look with Coriolanus.  It was a bit overkill, you both can agree.  But nothing less for the Presidential couple.

“Food is being prepared right at this moment.”  The head butler continues.

The villa is nice and airy.  Spacious and a perfect place to relax in.  And the smell of food, oh it is divine.

“The gods heard you.”  Coriolanus jests and you scan the table to see a glistening filet mignon.  Coriolanus pulls a chair for you and you thank him.  The head butler pours you a glass of posca and you smile gratefully.

Coriolanus and you eat your dinner quietly.  Giving compliments to the chefs who are standing in anticipation behind you.  You are generous in your praise, just to help in easing their anxiety.

You bid them goodbye as they all board a boat to take their leave.

When they are a considerable distance away, you and Coriolanus are able to drop the pretense. 

“Ugh.”  You groan as you grip your gown up to head inside the villa.  “I refuse to see anybody for twenty-four hours straight.”

Coriolanus follows after you, his hands clasped behind his back in a relaxed manner.  “Does that include me?”

You look at him briefly.  “What a stupid question.”  You link your arms to his and he glances at the clam expression on your face.

Now that he is standing so close, he notices just how much your childhood features remained in your face.  Your eyes and lips stayed the same.

“There was this one time I found you under the tables during a banquet held by our fathers.”  Coriolanus tells you and you don’t look up to him.  “I accidentally kicked you.”

You only hum to acknowledge him.

“I slipped under the tablecloth and joined you.”  He recalls.  “And you stole my first kiss.”

“Corio, stop talking.”  You groan.

“You told me you will be my wife.”

You purse your lips, not knowing how to respond.  

Sighing, you finally say,  “You were distraught.”  

“I was five.”

“In the Academy.  You hated me.”

“I envied you.”

Coriolanus opens the door and lets you pass first.  You continue to walk until you find the bedroom and he follows suit.

“Is that why you preferred Clemensia Dovecote’s company?”  You say sharply and Coriolanus looks at you as he leans on the vanity to undo his coat.

“She was pretty.  A nice accessory.”

You walk over to him, throwing your arms on his shoulders as you look deeply into his eyes.

“You think she’s pretty?”

He shakes his head.  “Not anymore.  She’s more of a snake than a dove now.”

“But you thought she was pretty.”

Coriolanus places a hand on your waist to steady you.

“That was because I did not want to admit my attraction to you.”

You pull away, doe eyes looking up at him meekly as your brows raise hopefully.  “You were attracted to me?”

“I am attracted to you.  How could I not be when everything about you tells the entire Capitol that you are mine?”

With utmost shyness, you focus your attention on his tie, not quite able to meet his eyes.  “You didn’t care.”

“The rosettes you used to wear in your hair were pretty.”  He smiles as he tucks your hair to the side.  “And so were the rosette patterns on the lace of your panties.”

Your movements have gone still.  Your eyes wide as you feel like a bucket of ice was dumped on your head.  Your eyes are frantic as you look up at him.  His face was passive, not betraying him.

“You think you were sneaky?”  He taunts as he starts to pull at your dress.  “You thought I would not know about your naughty little secrets?”

You gasp when he rips a stitch of your dress as he tugs it.

“Corio.”  You say breathlessly.  “How did you-”

“That initiation we had in our first year.”  He says gruffly as he pulls your gown once more until your breasts come spilling out.  “You were to exit the academy with just your skirts and blouse.”

Your face flushes.  “Y-you saw?”

“Everybody did.”  He tells you and you bury your face in his chest.  “It worked in my favor.  No boys came after you in the Academy.”

You cursed the wind that day.

Coriolanus pulls your gown and his fingers hook on the dainty fabric that cupped your innocence.

You place your hands on his shoulders as he tugs them down.  You cover your face as he gets the fabric off.

“Oh, will you look at that?”  He chuckles as he examines the lacy fabric.  “Still adorned with rosettes.”  He twists the fabric in his long fingers and you swallow as your throat has gone dried up at the sight.  You grab his arm when he brings it up his nose.  He looks at you sternly.  “Smells like roses too and feminine musk.”

You have had enough.  After securing your gown, you turn your back to him and head to the closet, muttering angrily but he chases after you and pulls you to the lounge instead.

“You are a…a sick man!”  You say angrily as you pull away.

“If I am sick, then so are you for liking it.”  He laughs as he finishes his work with your gown until your torso is bare but he never quite got it off you just yet.  “Come here, my love.”  He sits on a plush chair and beckons you by patting his thighs.

You attempt to sit sideways but he clicks his tongue and with much reluctance, you straddle him instead.

He keeps his eyes on you as he holds your hips, his fingers digging in the large poof of your gown.

“You look so bridal.”  He says.  “I’d want nothing else but to ruin you while you still have the dress on.”  Coriolanus noses your cheek. 

“You’d let me, won’t you?”  He asks in a deeper voice, making you nod your head with your eyes closed and lip caught between your teeth.

He chuckles at your startled gasp as he prodded at your petals.  His fingers spread to your lips, creating a wet noise that had you wrapping your arms around his neck once more as you hid away.

“She’s wet.” 

You buck your hips against his when his thumb presses flat on your pearl.

“You like it?”  He smiles against your hair and you hum.  “Words, darling.”

“I do, Corio.”  You murmur against his chest.  “More please.” 

He swallows thickly as he lets a finger slip between your folds and he winces lightly when you bite his shoulder.  His finger was met with resistance but he pushed it further, willing you to relax.

“There you go.”  He says as you start to grind against his hand.  You throw your head back as your hands grip his shoulders.

“Mmh!”  You mewl, your eyebrows pinched as hot puffs of air escape your lips that have bloated after being nibbled.  “F-feels sooo good!”

Coriolanus watches your face as you move above him, his fingers dripping with your sweet honey.

The thickness of his fingers nudged at your quivering walls, it had soft sighs spilling from your lips.  He curls his fingers upward and you melt as it massages the sweet spot inside you.

You suddenly gasp, bowing your head as your hands grasp at his hair.  “C-Corio…I’m-…Oh!”

Your body seizes up as you pull him close, your walls pulsating around his fingers as you cum.  Your honey stains your thighs and he revels at the look on your face.

Coriolanus carries you to your bed as he dips his head to kiss you.  You are mewling his name through the kiss as his fingers keep massaging your walls.  He gently slips his fingers out of you, the sensation most frustrating.

He slips out of his coat and you admire him for a while before trying to tug your gown off but he glares at you and your hands retreat from doing it.  The gown is soon tugged from you and you find yourself covering your feminine parts as his eyes roam around your body. 

Warm rough hands cup under your knee to part your legs further.  You whine in embarrassment and you make an attempt to pull your knees together.  Still so shy from him seeing your body.

“Don’t.”  He warns and your bones turn weak, you feel shameful with how much your body responds to him.

“I’m sorry.”  You say meekly.

Both of you are thrumming in anticipation as he unbuckles his pants and you wait with bated breath as he frees himself.

Coriolanus grunts as he grips his cock, pumping until you feel a warm dribble land on your stomach.

You watch his face contort with concentration as he guides his leaking tip on your entrance and you bite back a moan as the tip catches, the head slotting itself between your petals.

“If you hold back on your sounds, I would get upset.”  He says pointedly and you nod at him, your hand running on his arm to soothe him and to get him to hurry.

Coriolanus hooks your legs over his arms, he holds your waist as he slips himself inside you.

Your pained gasp had him gritting his teeth. 

“Just a bit more, darling.”

But that was a lie.  He was barely in.

Your nails are biting at his arms, forming red angry crescent moons.

“Almost there.”  He groans and you let out a choked sob, feeling the burn from the tight stretch.

Coriolanus inhales sharply as your tightness keeps him from filling you.  He places your legs back on the mattress and he clicks his tongue at how your walls reject his size.  He glances at your face before he tongues his cheek.

“I’m sorry, my love.” 

You don’t get to ask why when he crawls on top of you, his corded arms slipping under you so he can grip your shoulders.  He pulls back slightly and your juices, now painted pink with the mixture of your broken innocence, slips to coat your inner thighs.

Coriolanus murmurs apologies on your hair and makes shallow thrusts, your hands gripping his nape with the conflict of pleasure and pain, making you wetter and wetter.  And in one full thrust, he sheaths himself.

Your eyes shot open as you clawed on his back, feeling yourself tipping before you came crashing down.  Your flower clenches as it pulses around him, your slick overflowing with his tip kissing your cervix.

You are making noises that Coriolanus never thought you were capable of.  Your words were more of like babbles as wet sobs spilled from your lips.

The sight of you, so debauched, makes Coriolanus laugh.  “You come from just being stuffed full?”

Your glare up at him but your tongue is still unable to form words as pleasure makes tears leak from your eyes.

“Yeah, feels good, doesn’t it?”  He chuckles while he rocks his hips against yours.

He watches with amusement at how you throw your head back when he pounds on you.  He can see your pulse jumping and he wonders if you know how vulnerable you are right now.  He grazes his teeth on the thinness of your skin and to his surprise, you mewl wantonly, only tightening around him.

“Naughty girl.”  He chuckles but you look at him, offended.

“I’m not.”

He kisses your pouting lips.  “Hm?”

You shake your head.  “I’m not.”

“You’re not naughty?”  He snickers and you nod.  You are acting no different to a drunk.  “That’s right.  You’ve been a good girl, haven’t you?”

Coriolanus wonders if the look you are giving him are what they say heart eyes are.  

He realized that he feels most powerful when he is on top of you and making you feel good. 

Your feet absentmindedly slide to caress his leg and he smiles at your adorable display of affection.

Nobody would believe the sight of you right now.

So docile, so submissive.

The damp fabric under you was uncomfortable and it was too warm, but such tiny discomforts flew over your head when Coriolanus was making you feel too good.

Your big teary eyes look at him as your brows curl in pleasure, you were too adorable he had to kiss you.

You break the kiss with a whine, your heels digging on the mattress as your back arches off the bed.

Coriolanus understood and fucked into you rougher, trying to keep a steady pace but it was getting harder and harder for him to do when your soft wet walls rub against his sensitive cock.

“Corio, Corio please!”  You beg him as your hands cupped his face in desperation.

He seethes through gritted teeth, his hands leaving a red print on your shoulders as he crushed you with his weight.  You were sobbing, just needing him all to yourself.

And you cum once more.  You are lost as every coil in your body snaps.  You are unraveling beneath him and Coriolanus grunts, chasing his own high and he slots the tip of his manhood deep inside you and spills his seed.

You wince at the warm spurts of his spend and you pull him to share another kiss.

Coriolanus breathed heavily against your lips.  He felt invincible yet ready to go down on his knees for you.  No wonder why so many empires collapsed for women.  He would gladly die if you asked him to at this moment.

Your sob pulls him from his thoughts and looks at you with concern.

Coriolanus tucks your damp hair to the side as he kisses your cheek.  “What’s wrong, sweetheart?  Did I go too rough?”

You shake your head as you pull him closer, your legs crossing over his posterior, burying him deeper inside you, making him groan, the tendons on his arms popping in an attempt to control himself.

“I love you.  I love you, Corio.  It felt so good.”

He chuckles at your words and he nods, dipping low to kiss your lips once more.  “I love you too.”  He looks deep into your eyes and starts moving his hips once more, determined to make love to you again.

You give him a tired smile but you encourage him by tracing his nape sensually with your manicured nails.

You share a look of pure fondness, so in love and lost in pleasure.

It was then you realized that you need nothing else but each other and you would do everything to protect this love you found.

Quest for Happiness

[matryosika]

Attraction, obsession, infatuation

Pairing — Hyunjin and fem!reader Wordcount — 7,680 words Includes — Explicit sexual content. Alcohol consumption, mentions of jealousy and possessiveness. Smut warnings under the cut. Summary — It is easier to hate than to admit loving. Alternatively, where Hyunjin realizes he might be tired of pretending he doesn't want to be more than just your toy. Author's Note — First 2024 full story! One of my New Year's resolutions was to keep on writing, since the last two years have been a bit too rough with my creativity and, overall, life. I hope I can continue posting stuff this year, but I literally can't ignore the fact that I am graduating college this June and that the adult life is, inevitably, catching up to me. Still, writing is something I love so I am determined to take this hobby very seriously, since it's one of the few things I enjoy! I hope you like this, please remember that english is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes in advanced. If you wish to support my work, please leave a comment, reblog or ask 💌 Post divider by @/cafekitsune

Smut Warnings — Dirty talk, (very) mild humiliation, oral sex (m. receiving), face fucking and deep throating, voyeurism, female (solo) masturbation), unprotected sex, penetrative sex, marking (and mentions of pain), dacryphilia, creampie.

Humiliating.

There is no other way to describe the situation that perfectly.

[21:19 p.m., Hyunjin: Seems like you got yourself a new toy]

[21:19 p.m., Hyunjin: You don’t want to play with me anymore?]

[21:20 p.m., Hyunjin: I mean, we both know why you agreed to come here in the first place. It's not like you're the best of friends with any of my roommates, anyways.]

You hate how right he always is —how shamelessly he speaks, how pridefully he carries that ego of him. 

People say there is a thin line between hatred and love, but they never talk about how tempting it is to walk on it. Especially because said line doesn't involve any of the former—if anything, that line represents all the carnal pleasures. 

Pure lust.

[21:21 p.m., You: Please]

[21:21 p.m., You: You’re so full of yourself, you know that?]

Hyunjin rolls his eyes right in front of you, tongue poking through his cheek while he reads your messages.

[21:22 p.m., Hyunjin: That never seems to be a problem when you're in my bed]

It's a never ending bickering. A never ending teasing. 

Hyunjin has always loved the thrill of doing things he isn't supposed to —no wonder why he ended up fucking you, out of all the women he knows. 

Attraction, obsession, infatuation. 

No amount of words could describe what happens between the two of you.

[21:23 p.m., You: I’m busy, in case you haven’t tell]

His cheeks grow hotter, killer eyes darting between you and the man you're talking to; appearing all sweet, gentle, collected, and everything you're not when you are with him. Your hand lays peacefully over your companion’s thigh, playfully hitting it when he says something remotely funny. 

Your smile hasn't worn off since you entered the party, and Hyunjin genuinely wonders if you’re that happy and comfortable to be around any other man. Inevitably, he begins to wonder if you'd let him touch you like he does, kiss you like he has. He stares at you two for a little too long, and questions if you'd let that man do everything Hyunjin is entitled to do with you. 

Would you let him treat you like he can? Let him fuck you like he does?

He chugs down the alcohol from his cup and uses that as an excuse to calm his masochistic urges, walking away from the scene he has been staring at for almost 10 minutes now. 

It's like pouring lime over a wound, like pulling out a loose tooth. It hurts, but it makes him feel something.

“If you didn't hate her I would say you're totally drooling over her,” a black-haired man that smiles teasingly with his eyes is quick to ambush Hyunjin as he makes his way to the kitchen. 

“What? Did your date get tired of you too early tonight?”

Changbin’s tongue pokes his cheek, and he can’t help but smile at Hyunjin’s moodiness. “She went to the bathroom, I just came here for some drinks”. 

“Well, get to it,” Hyunjin commands, stretching his shoulders in an attempt to release all the build-up tension over them.

“Man, you've been acting so out of your element lately,” Changbin remarks, placing a bottle of vodka and another of pineapple juice aside with two red solo cups. “You’re always in a fucking mood, this is actually the first time I see you outside your bedroom in like... a while”. 

Hyunjin won't admit it, but he is sulking. 

Because of college, because of work, because of things he can't begin to fix and because of you.

“Just busy, I guess,” he shrugs his shoulders. “Sorry I can't spend all day sticking my dick in different holes and doing an 8-hour shift at the gym”. 

Changbin scoffs bitterly under his breath, nose flaring at his friend's harshness. “Maybe that's exactly what you need,” he nods, pouring a drink for himself and his date, “a good fuck”.

He rolls his eyes. 

Yeah, maybe he needs that, but he also needs for you to stop touching your date's thigh, laughing amusingly loudly like you want him to hear how much of a great time you're having. Maybe Hyunjin needs to relieve all his anger on you, or he just needs for you to spare him a fucking glance because you haven't even looked at him since you walked in.

“Yeah,” he finally exhales, stealing the vodka bottle from Changbin’s grip to pour some onto his cup. He chugs it down quickly, and clears his throat when he feels the liquid burning inside, “that’s what I need”. 

Changbin pats his right shoulder and abandons the kitchen when he spots his date closing the bathroom door behind her. And Hyunjin is left alone once again, wondering if it's time to ditch the party and lock himself inside his room or if he should hurt himself a bit more to get a grip on reality.

Inconveniently, he chooses the latter. Resting his hips against the kitchen counter, and turning his back on the full view of the living room, Hyunjin begins to thread a line of questions that may never have a proper answer. 

Had he met you in another context, and in a distinct light, would things be different? Would your dynamic be different?

Maybe he would've apologized when he had time, for all the useless bickering that always took place between the two along the friend group. Had he surrendered to your stubbornness, rather than putting up a fight like it's typical from him, would the anguish be less?

Now that he reflects on it, Hyunjin can't even tell why you two hate each other these days. He never questioned it, the hatred you felt for each other, but he no longer knows why it's still there. Maybe it was a first impression, maybe it was a dumb comment or joke he cracked when you were introduced to the friend group. Maybe it was the fact that you two are so alike, personality wise, that you never seemed to get on.

Maybe you keep on hating each other because that's how it always has been, because there hasn't been a room to question the "what if's". 

Or maybe you hate him just for being him, and the only thing you've come to mend with is the fact that he is nothing more than a good fuck.

His heart aches because of this last thought, and he stares at his phone screen for a bit too long, hoping to get a text from you. But you're busy, you said it yourself, and he is just feeling out of place. 

“Hey,” the familiar voice it's enough for him to lift up his eyes from his phone, encountering a sheepishly grinning, red-eyed Jisung. “Changbin told me you’re in a mood, again”.

“He should put his mouth to good use,” Hyunjin rolls his eyes. 

“He is worried about you though,” his friend says. “We all are, you know”. 

Hyunjin sighs, “I’m fine”. 

“Dude, come on,” Jisung drags his words lazily. “It’s about her, right?”

He shoots a killer gaze at him, “about who?”

If Jisung hadn't been higher than the fucking Empire State, he would've considered Hyunjin’s gaze a threat. But his mind is not precisely paying attention to any social cues, so he proceeds to say your name as a response. 

"You should stop smoking that shit ever so often, you know?" he spits in annoyance, "it's making you delusional".

“Yeah, right man,” Jisung nods. “And you can keep being angry with the world just because you can't be angry with her”. 

It disgusts Hyunjin how poetic that sounds, but his friend isn't too far from the truth —he would much rather project his anger and annoyance onto everyone else before you.

Because if you call, if you look for him, if you text him and ask him to see you, he will always be available. Even when he is not. Even when he has a ton shit to do. Even if all you want is his dick and a couple of dirty words. 

Every time you ask, Hyunjin will give you anything you want.

“We don't have to talk about her though. Just wanted to check up on you,” his friend continues after an excruciatingly long silence, patting one of his shoulders like Changbin did before. 

“There’s nothing to talk about, anyways,” Hyunjin says.

“Are you on, like, bad terms?” 

“We’re not on any terms,” again, the urge to deny everything. It's always easier to pretend nothing it's going on than admitting there's a huge fucking elephant in the room. “We fuck, occasionally, and that's it. Not friendship, not intimacy, not trivial conversations about each other's days”. 

“Well, that's some sort of the ideal to a fuck buddy relationship,” Jisung tilts his head. “It’s supposed to work”. 

It should. 

And it did, for a while —when the feelings were minimum and could be repressed, when the anger only translated to hatred and annoyance, and not jealousy and possessiveness.

These days, it's just not enough.

“Yeah well,” Hyunjin scoffs bitterly, holding the almost empty bottle of alcohol to his lips. 

Thank God he isn't a light weight, because he would've been screwed by now. Vodka isn't his greatest match, but neither are you and he knows he has to sacrifice something tonight —whether it’s his rationality or his heart. 

“Alright,” he finally exhales, pushing the empty bottle away from the edge of the counter. “I’m going back to my room”.

"Already?"

“That's the beauty of people using your apartment to host a fucking party, I guess,” Hyunjin says, leaning down to one of the kitchen pantries to grab his favorite bottle of wine. “You can just walk a minute and be in the comfort of your own bed”. 

“Haven’t you drunk too much?” Jisung asks. 

“Definitely not enough,” the dark-haired replies, grabbing both the bottle and a glass with one of his hands. “Tell Jeongin to kick everyone out by 2, I’m not paying for another noise complaint again”. 

And as he makes his way to his room, it's inevitable for Hyunjin not to spare a glance at the couch you were once sitting on. But his eyes meet Changbin and his date instead, without any trace of you or the man you were with. And he doesn't know if he should feel relieved or worried because you're no longer in his eyesight, and as comforting as that thought should be is nothing more than anguish-inducing.

He says goodbye to some of his friends, and also deals with Changbin’s insistence to stay around before he is able to lock himself inside his room. It was, at best, a 3 minute situation from the kitchen to his bed, but it felt like ages. Mostly because his eyes kept on scanning the whole apartment, hoping to find something that could tell him you're still there and you didn't leave the party with that man although you probably did. 

Much to his surprise, when he opens the door to his room, he finds you sitting at the edge of his bed.

You don't say anything, and neither does he. So you two stare at each other for a while before Hyunjin closes the door right behind him, leaving the wine and glass on a small table by the door.

“Wine? At a college party?” You finally interrupt the silence, using that playful, teasing tone you always use when you want to get on his nerves. “You really are something else”. 

Typical Hyunjin would think of a comeback rather quicker than the speed of light —he has always been witty and good with his words, and that's something you find utterly, despicably attractive in him. 

But after 4 shots of vodka and an unamusing mood, all he wants it’s to kick you out and plop down onto his bed. 

“Weren’t you busy?” he asks in a murmur, too lazy to make himself be heard. But it is loud and clear for you to hear, even with the bustling coming from down the hall.

“He bored me,” you admit. “Kept talking about his football team, and how he is going to work at his father's company once he graduates”. 

Hyunjin lets out a bitter and quiet scoff, giving you his back while he pours some wine onto his glass. You can’t fool him, even if you try like right now.

But he attempts to ignore his rapid heartbeats by keeping a nonchalant, even annoyed countenance, albeit a part of him can't ignore the fact that you're in his room. 

Just you and him, finally.

“Are you going back to the party or…”

“I’m tired,” he cuts you short, chugging down the wine like it's a shot of anything else. Can't care less about etiquette when all he wants is to lose his sobriety along with his rationality. “I want to sleep”. 

“It’s 10:30,” you tease him, cocking one of your eyebrows and giving him that look that always makes him feel ridiculous.

On any other day, that would've been fuel to erase that smile off of your face by pushing it onto the pillows while he fucks you from behind.

Tonight, though, it just blatantly stings. 

“So?” The coldness in his voice makes you shudder, and when he doesn't respond like he usually does it's when you realize there's something different going on.

You and Hyunjin don't share that kind of intimacy. You don't tell him your problems, and he doesn't tell you his problems either. You don't comfort each other through words or romantic touches. You don't give words of encouragement and you don't talk things through.

If there's something to say, you do so through sex. 

But right now, that you've interrupted his night, you feel somewhat compromised to ask if he is alright.

“Bad day?”

Bad week, bad month, bad year, a bad fucking life.

“Don’t have to act like you care,” Hyunjin says, resting his hips against the furniture while he pours himself another glass of wine.

The comment catches you off-guard. First and foremost, because you're not quite sure you don't care about him at all. And second, because he is making it seem like you are the reason behind his bad mood.

But if he doesn’t want to talk, you’re not going to force him to. After all, you’re in his room for one reason, and one reason only. 

“Shit, sorry for asking,” you murmur, gripping the edge of the bed sheets with both of your hands. It's a common ground you've walked in, thousands of times. You've been in his bed for far more times than you can remember, and you've fucked a lot more than you can count. So you're not afraid of asking the question: maybe you should release some stress?

Hyunjin knows what you mean. He knows the sexual connotations of it, and knows that’s exactly the reason why you're in his room. 

On any other day, Hyunjin would've taken your word. But right now, when his eyes can only focus on the crimson bruise on your neck, the proposition enrages him.

He walks towards you, completely towering over your figure. One hand holds the glass of wine, while the other cups your face and maneuvers it harshly, leaving the hickey for him to see. 

“He bored you?” The way he spits such a question makes your heart skip a beat. Don’t leave a rough mark, you told the guy, just a faint hickey. Of course he wouldn’t care, and neither did you —otherwise you would’ve checked yourself in the mirror before approaching Hyunjin wearing someone else’s lovebites, “or he just wasn't the one you wanted to fuck tonight?”

You move your head away from his touch with a swift movement, immediately missing the warmth of his skin against yours, "does that even make a difference?"

But it doesn't.

In the end, you only look for him because you want a good fuck and it seemed like your date just couldn't get the job done.

Not because you want him, particularly. 

“No,” Hyunjin replies coldly. “But you should at least have some decency, you know?”

You know he isn't teasing you, like he always does. He is not saying all this to get a reaction from you, and that unsettles you.

He is acting and saying such things because he means them. Because he feels like them.

“Since when do you care about what I do or I don't?” you ask him, the tone in your voice increasing as Hyunjin’s gaze intensifies.

“You can do whoever the fuck you want,” he murmurs, uncrossing his arms to grip at the edge of the furniture behind him.

“Well, I want to do you”. 

“Maybe tonight I don’t,” Hyunjin gulps down the wine, having a way harder time swallowing the euphoric sensation of his ego rather than the alcohol coming down his throat.

 And you stare at him like he just said something controversial. Something weird, something unusual coming from him.

“You’re lying,” you say, darting him a challenging look. “You always want me”. 

“Why would I want something that everyone can have?” 

It’s his anger talking. His rage, his uncertainty, his jealousy. 

You're not wrong. He wants you, he always has and most likely always will. 

But he is too proud to admit it, both to you and himself. Especially after you’ve walked into his room with the ghost of another man’s hands and lips, wearing a mark on your skin that will never compare to how Hyunjin has been allowed to mark you.

“So that’s the issue?” you defy him, standing up from the edge of his bed to walk forward. “You’re acting like this just because I was with someone else?”

Your mocking tone makes it seem like it's something ridiculous and irrational, but you've aced your initial hypothesis.

You are the reason behind his bad mood.

“Just get out,” Hyunjin says, tense jaw and cold eyes locked into yours. “You're getting on my nerves”. 

Your tongue pokes through your cheek and you look at him in disbelief —you feel taken aback because of how he is acting, and you want to blame it on the alcohol he has ingested throughout the night. But he looks sober, and way more serious than his immature facade has ever made him appear.

“If I wanted to be with someone else tonight, I would’ve left your apartment a fucking hour ago,” the boldness in your voice only challenges Hyunjin to this staring contest he didn't know he is playing. Without blinking, without parting his gaze away, all his undivided attention is on you, and the way you're spitting your words like you're truly the one with a reason to be angry. 

Needless to say, your audacity only infuriates him further.

“If you wanted to be with me, you would’ve come into my room the second you step a foot into the apartment,” he shoots back, straightening his body against the furniture and causing it to move an inch closer to you, “I mean, you know the way well, don’t you?” 

He raises one of his eyebrows, and it’s embarrassing. 

Pathetically embarrassing. 

Stupidly idiotic.

“You've crawled on all fours from the door to my room before,” Hyunjin continues, tilting his head while his gaze falls from your eyes to your parted lips, “I'm sure that was enough for you to remember the path fairly well”. 

It was one time, you say to yourself. And you'd rather die than having to admit such a humiliating thing to anyone other than him. 

You'd rather die than having everyone know what you allow Hyunjin to do to you. You'd rather disappear into thin air than having to deal with the judgemental gazes from all of your friends.

The Hwang Hyunjin? The one you say you can't stand? The one that gets on your nerves because of how childish he is? The one you tell your friends you'd turn down a thousand times even if he was the last man standing on earth?

“Go fuck yourself, Hwang,” you're so close to him you can practically taste the red wine off of his lips. You're breathing the same air, hearts beating at the same rate.

You want him worse than you wanted him before —you like the feeling of his jealousy and his possessiveness. You like it when his hatred towards you transforms into hatred to anyone who dares to touch you; no one is allowed to have you like he is entitled to, and no one is allowed to hate you the way he does.

So he leaves the empty glass of wine behind, and guides one of his hands to your heated cheeks. He caresses it, pushing away the hairs from your face —the intimate touch might feel out of place and context, but you know damn well it's nothing more than the calm before the storm. 

A calling.

A warning.

You know Hyunjin more than you'd ever want to admit, and you crave him worse than you'd ever allow yourself to think.

"God fucked you up by giving you this shitty ego,” he murmurs, brushing his lips ever so slightly against yours. It seems as if Hyunjin walked right into your trap without knowing, blinded by instincts and completely ignoring the awful show you put up earlier with a man you don't even know his name, “and he fucked me up even more for making me like it”. 

It all happens in a fraction of second, too fast for you to catch some air and too sloppy for you to get the kiss right.

You're tasting the red wine, and his rage, and the longing lust you are always demanding from him whenever your body is against his. He kisses you ardently, teasing your tongue and biting your lower lip trying to fill you up just with him —to get rid of whoever kissed you first that night, and to intoxicate you with all of him for whoever will kiss you next.

One of his hands wraps around your figure, pressing you tighter against him, while the other swims through the roots of your hair, already in position to manhandle you like he knows he can.

The way he knows you want him to.

And you don't stop him when you feel the sting in your scalp, forcing you to break the kiss and down to your knees right in front of him in a careless way that will probably leave bruises.

“Said you wanted to do me?” Hyunjin asks, unzipping his pants with his available hand while the other holds your head still, despite your efforts to wipe away the drool from your lips and the hair sticking to your cheeks with his spit. “I’m right fucking here, do me”. 

You look at him with loathing but it is nothing more than a projection: you hate yourself for how much you needed this. 

For how much you need him.

“Don’t give me those eyes,” he falsely pouts, but the sound gets drowned in a grunt when he wraps his hand around his dick to stroke it a few times before guiding your mouth to the tip of it, “you want this”. 

His gaze finds yours in the midst of the struggle, and the only way you can think of letting him know you're consenting to this is by sticking your tongue out and licking the tip of his cock, collecting all his salty precum and tasting it like you've been starving for it.

At the sight, Hyunjin chuckles lowly. Still as cold, still as enraged.

“Did you suck him off too?” he asks, using the grip on your hair as his favor —with ease, he slams his hips against your mouth, letting the tip of his cock reach parts of your throat that are still tense. “Does he taste as good as I do?”

Hyunjin doesn't need to know that you planned this all along —that you purposely did everything to get him jealous. He doesn't need to know that you like the thrill of it, of watching his possessive and jealous side.

He doesn't need to know that you utterly adore when he fucks you like he actually hates you. Like you mean nothing and everything to him at the same time.

Hyunjin doesn't need to know a lot of things, so you tag along with the fantasy of everything you've yet to deny.

“Relax,” more than a soothing word, it’s an order. He maneuvers your head all along his length, applying more pressure when your nose hits his pubic bone and then forcing you away to let you breathe. “You’ve taken this cock before, you know exactly how to do it”. 

You try to regain control of your body, and your rationality, but it seems a rather useless task —when you're with Hyunjin, he is the one that does the thinking for you. When you're with him, you can't think of anything else but him, his voice, his eyes, the way he touches and kisses you, the way he tastes and the way he feels inside you.

“Too big,” you gasp in between thrusts of his hips against your lips. Your hand flies to reach the base of his cock, but he is quick to force you backwards with the grip on your hair.

“Do not touch me”.

“Hyun-”

“I said, do not touch me,” he repeats when you try to touch him again. “Do you really think you can go around touching other men and I won't do anything about it?”

Hyunjin wishes he wasn’t as prideful as he is —if he could swallow his ego easily, he could have your hands all over his body by now. But he is proud, and vengeful, and stubborn. No matter how much his skin is burning to feel the softness of yours against it, he needs to make his point.

“You’re- you can’t be serious,” you struggle between moans, with a voice so hoarse it's barely audible. 

“There’s the door,” he forces your head towards it, “you can leave if you don’t like it”. 

Your doe eyes, filled with anger and defy, dart between him and the door. Hyunjin is always the one in control, you're not really unfamiliar with that —the fact that he is acting like this, offering you a way out if you’re not willing to do things his way, makes you feel uneasy and curious.

You choose to stay only for the latter. Not because of anything else, right?

Right?

You don’t say anything, but fix your gaze on the man in front of you. 

And Hyunjin gets it, he gets the look you're giving him. That, paired with the fact that you're not doing anything to get away from his grip, tells him that you're more than willing to keep on going, so he continues manhandling you around.

“C’mere,” he mutters when guiding your head along his cock again, making you swallow him full without giving you any kind of warning whatsoever, “just like that”. 

You're gagging, and tearing up, and clearly struggling to take all of his cock. But never have you felt this hungry, and never have you felt this emptiness between your legs that only Hyunjin seems to be able to fill.

Your hands ache for his flesh, and so desperately you want to sink them on his thighs or ass; intertwine them with his, latch your fingers against his and squeeze them while you prove to him that he's the only one that gets to fuck your mouth like this. 

“Please,” you cry out when he gives you a break to catch some air, “I need- let me touch you, please”. 

"Should've thought of it before putting your hands on someone else," he hissed, brushing your hair wet with drool and tears away from your face. “Should’ve thought about me before running to another man”. 

“Hyunjin”.

Oh, how pretty his name sounds falling from your lips —especially when accompanied with sobs and whimpers. You're always so cool and collected, like you control everything and everyone around you. You never cry, never show anyone else a crevice of what you truly are, but he is the only one that gets to see you like this. The only one you really trust, the only one you give control to.

If you hate him that much, why do you always come crawling back to him?

If you hate him that much, why is he the only one that gets to use you like this?

And if you hate him that much, why can't Hyunjin forget what he truly feels about you?

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, cleaning your mouth and chin with the back of your hand. “I’m fucking sorry, okay? I’m sorry”. 

“For what exactly?” He is so close to you, you can feel the tip of his nose brushing against yours and get drunk on the wine that lingers in his breath. He is so close to you, he almost can't resist the urge of crashing his lips against yours again and taste himself off of you. 

“I don’t know,” you look at him with teary eyes. You feel like crying, and Hyunjin can tell. “I don’t know, it’s just- I’m sorry, okay? If that’s what you want to hear, then I’m sorry”. 

His eyebrows furrow.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he says. “Your apologies mean nothing to me”. 

Your heart stings, and it is unusual. He is unusual, painfully real unlike all the times you've pretended to hate each other just for the dynamic.

Blame it on the alcohol, or the stress he has been feeling lately, or the fact that you've been nothing but a brat these days, but Hyunjin is angry. And hurt.

“Your actions, on the other hand,” it's all he tells you with his bright eyes boring into yours. “I want you to show me how sorry you truly are”. 

“Wha-”

He maneuvers you from the floor to his bed, forcing you on your back against the sheets you've grown to know fairly well. Your body writhes under him, and you fight back the urges to wrap your arms around his neck and force his body close to yours. 

“How- am I supposed to show you?” you ask in between the struggle, moving your body to Hyunjin’s will. With your help, he unbuttons your jeans and scatters them along the floor, just like your blouse and underwear.

He lets out a soft scoff, blowing air through his nose, amused. "As if you don't know me that well".

And because you know him well, you can't avoid the eerie feeling of fear that settles up in the deepest pits of your chest when his cold gaze makes contact with yours.

“What are you going to do to me?” You ask, with your heart ringing loudly in your ears.

“You should be asking what you're going to do for me, instead,” he murmurs, caressing the sides of your body with a creepy delicacy that doesn't match his demeanor at all. "Don't you want to be forgiven?" It's a rhetorical question, you know that much. And you do want to be forgiven, but you're not quite sure what twisted idea Hyunjin has of an apology. 

So you stay quiet, and hope for the best.

“You said you wanted me, right?” He asks yet again, fixing his eyes on yours. You just nod. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Yes,” you rush to say, “yes, I said I want you”. 

“How bad?”

The endless teasing is making you frustrated, but you're used to that. However, you're not used to feeling tears prickling at the corners of your eyes with each second that passes by.

You need him desperately. You need his kiss, and tongue, and hands on every part of your body that you'd never allow anyone else to touch.

No matter how much you say you dislike Hyunjin.

“So fucking bad,” you cry out, kicking you head back against the pillow.

Hyunjin hums, peppering wet and sloppy kisses over your tummy and inner thighs. You feel his breath so close to your wet center that you can only hope he gives you the attention you need. 

But that is not going to happen any time soon, and you know that.

“Fuck yourself,” he commands you, kneeling between your spread legs on top of his bed, “prove to me that you want me”.

You know the catch, know why Hyunjin is asking you such a thing.

He never does, unless he wants to punish you. And albeit not a rough punishment, there's nothing sweeter than watching you fall apart in frustration, to watch you deny yourself because he said so, to see you squirming in pain because you overstimulated yourself.

But then again, you'd do anything he says, just to be one step closer to him.

So you comply, with your index and middle finger shaking in anticipation as they make contact with your folds. Slowly but surely, you start fulfilling his demand —bitterly, with a look of disdain. 

One of his hands spread your legs further, and he stays kneeling between your thighs as he watches you. 

Impatient, eager, angry.

“I don’t have all day,” he finally snaps after a good 30 seconds of you just timidly teasing yourself. You can’t admit it out loud, but it is embarrassing —to have his eyes all over you but not his hands, to have your legs spread for someone who has no interest in touching you.

It's also embarrassing how wet you are by all of this. By his attitude, his anger and his jealousy.

“Sorry,” you barely mumble, sinking two fingers inside your throbbing pussy. 

You feel nothing. Not pain, nor pleasure. Just nothing.

“One more,” Hyunjin tells you and you comply. But after getting used to him and his size, nothing fills you up anymore. 

“You don’t- you don’t expect me to come just by this, do you?” You ask with a nervous scoff, biting down on your lower lip as you pull your fingers out just to thrust them inside again.

Hyunjin doesn't answer, and that only fuels your anguish even more. Instead, he fixes his eyes on your fingers, and the way they glisten with your wetness. He focuses on the sounds they make, and how warm you must feel after all the teasing.

You let out a whine, but it is not out of pleasure. It's a frustrated whine, a desperate one. You kick your head back, and fuck yourself harder with your fingers.

All your efforts are pointless.

“Don’t you dare,” Hyunjin warns you when your other hand slips to touch your clit. 

“I- I can’t just come with this,” you groan.

“How is that my problem?” 

It is humiliating —the way he is looking down on you, the way he is clearly amused by how stupid you must look right now touching yourself without feeling anything.

“Keep on going,” he tells you, licking his lips, “you won’t stop until you come”.

You shake your head and kick it against his pillow, trying to go impossibly deeper in hopes of finding that spot inside of you that only Hyunjin seems to know well.

Again, pointless.

“Come on,” you whine, now really on the brink of tears, “don’t do this to me”. 

“You did this to yourself,” he simply says, and his digits graze against your naked legs. 

The stimulation on your flesh is enough for you to clench around your fingers, and Hyunjin lets out a twisted smile when he sees the goosebumps flowering.

“Hyunjin”. 

“Can’t come by yourself?” He asks with a fake empathy, “you need me for that, right?”

You know where this is heading, and you’re willingly letting him lead you that way —you nod, swallowing thickly. 

“Yes,” you admit, hoping such a confession is enough to do something. Anything.

“Am I the only one who can make you come?”

“Yes, Hyunjin,” there's an inner conflict between your lust and your ego —you wish to fight back, but your mind is already surrendering. Your answer isn't far from the truth anyways, so why is it so difficult to admit it out loud? “Yes, you’re the only one”. 

“That’s what I thought,” he whispers quietly, dragging the tip of his digits along your spread thighs.

You’re aroused and whriting in anticipation, You’re aroused and trembling in anticipation, your whole body is ready for him, anything he wants to give you, and he can tell.

That's probably the worst part of it all —your mouth can always voice how much you hate him, but your body will keep on betraying you every time.

“I can’t,” you murmur, relentlessly trying to get yourself to your high, “I can't do this on my own anymore, you're the only one who can”. 

It's embarrassing to admit such a thing, both to him and yourself —it's not like you're saying so just to get what you want.

You're saying so because it's the truth, because not even you nor your toys can get you to come like Hyunjin does. 

“Remember that every time you even think about being with someone else,” Hyunjin’s body hovers over you, fitting perfectly between your open legs. “No one is going to make you feel like I can”. 

You drown a moan when you feel his clothed erection pressing against your folds. The fabric of his pants is rough, but your body unconsciously grinds on it.

“Just fuck me, Hyunjin,” you beg, wrapping your legs around his hips and feeling his warmth spreading from your chest to your limbs, “please, please, please”.

He needs you just as much.

And his intention was never to deny you, but to remind you that you belong to him. Whether you want to admit it or not, whether you even know it —your body responds to Hyunjin, and Hyunjin only. 

“Patience is a virtue, you know?” He scoffs, sneaking a hand between your bodies to slide the tip of his dick against your folds, “I spent all night looking how someone else got his hands all over you”.

You tremble underneath him, begging for anything he might want to give you. 

“It wasn’t a pretty sight, you know?” Hyunjin continues, “it kills me that no one knows you're mine”. 

Your heart skips a beat at his rageful words, as you breathe the same oxygen that leaves his lungs. 

“Hyunjin”. 

“I hate the fact that I just can’t kiss you when I feel like it,” he presses his forehead against yours, taunting your lips with his. “Can’t even fuck you when I want, without caring if someone hears or not”. 

There's a pinch of frustration and despair in his voice. Like he is asking you to read between the lines, to give some sense to his words.

“We hate each other, don’t we?” You remind him, digging your nails in the flesh of the sides of his body.

“Do you really think this is hate?” He asks, and presses his hips against yours. You feel his hardened length getting coated with your wetness, and you can’t help but moan. 

“Everybody thinks we can’t stand each other,” you wrap your legs around his hips, forcing him to make a move. And as if on cue, he gets what you’re demanding —he slides the tip of his dick in, so easily that it's hard to believe your body wasn't perfectly made for him.

“But no one knows what we do behind their backs, do they?” He asks, grunting quietly when he finally bottoms out, “they don’t know how good we fuck each other, how good we make us feel”. 

It's not the time to pause and reflect about the dynamic you've shared with Hyunjin over the past year. It's also not the time to think about what could happen if you were to reveal to your closest friends what you and Hyunjin have. 

It's exciting to keep things a secret, but you're not quite sure how long you can go without one of you getting tired of it.

It's not the time, and you don't dwell on it because you soon feel Hyunjin's hips slowly pulling and then bottoming out again. The sudden hit of his pubic bone against your swollen clit sends shivers down your spine, and you hug him tightly against you.

“Because you make me feel so good,” he murmurs, leaving a wet trail of kisses from your lips, to your chin and jaw, “so fucking good”. 

You clench around him at his words, and he lets out a raw moan. 

“You too,” you swallow thickly, “you too- make me feel so good”. 

“Just me?”

“Just you Hyunjin- fuck,” you bite down the flesh on his shoulders when his hips snap against yours, making your whole body jolt, “like that, fuck me like that”. 

With painfully slow but hard strokes, Hyunjin pounds his dick inside your wet pussy.

The lewd noises it makes, paired with his skin hitting yours, drowns his bedroom. They also drown the bustle behind the door, the faint voices of those who are still outside partying and drinking.

Those who don't know how much you love fucking Hyunjin, and how much he loves fucking you.

“I have to make sure it's only me who gets to have you like this,” and with that being said, he sinks his teeth and nibbles at the flesh where burgundy and purple bruises rest. 

You arch your back in pain, feeling your neck burning. He holds you in place as you writhe beneath him, placing all his weight over you to prevent you from squirming away from him.

“It’s just a little pain,” his soft voice coos, grabbing the sides of your neck with one of his hands while his lips attack the love bites made by someone else, “nothing compared to what you made me feel tonight”.

Your heart starts beating faster at his words.

“I’m sorry,” tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you still let Hyunjin mark you. 

You want him to, anyway. No matter how painful it can be.

“I know you are,” he hums, satisfied with the way you’re clenching around him. 

He kisses your flesh softly, trying to soothe the pain away, and you move your hips, desperate to have him moving inside of you again.

He loses no time into it, holding his weight back off of you to continue on fucking you.

“You look so pretty now,” he twistedly smiles, with a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead and nose, “my lips and teeth look so good on you”. 

The minute he bites down his lower lip and his eyes go blank, you start feeling the tension building up inside your abdomen. You’re close, and you’re desperate to come.

“Hyunjin,” one of your hands holds his bicep, while the other makes a mess of the bed sheets beneath you.

“Not yet,” he warns you, and at that you let out a frustrated sound, “hold it a bit longer, come with me”. 

You close your eyes shut and kick your head back, hoping that if you don't look at him, you can prolong the time before you come. But he is fucking you so good, and his dick is hitting all the right spots inside of you, that you really don't think you can hold it as long as he wants you to.

“Please,” you cry out, this time tearing up. You can’t help it —the tears fall from your closed eyes without a warning. They stain your cheeks, and get lost in the crook of your neck that is still burning with Hyunjin’s love bites. 

“Open your eyes,” his hand cups your face, and you snap them open as a reflex, “let me see you crying”.

His words ignite a fire inside you, just as much as your tears do to him. His cock twitches at the sight of your clouded eyes and the way they beg for his release.

It’s the first time he sees you cry, 

and it shouldn't arouse him as much as it does. He knows what's behind those tears, and maybe that's the reason why he is enjoying them.

Frustration, rage, despair, attraction, obsession, infatuation.

He buries his nose on the flesh of your cheek and kisses your tears, one by one, as he continues pounding himself inside of you. 

“Can’t-” you murmur, digging your nails on his shoulders. Hyunjin hisses at that. “I can’t hold it”. 

“Give it to me,” he finally exhales, increasing the movements of his hips. And you comply —you give your orgasm to him, squeezing his cock almost aggressively. Your body trembles and he hugs it tightly, fucking you through your high as he comes with you.

“Fuck, Hyunjin,” at one point, your body goes limp —the pleasure becomes too strong that you melt into his arms. 

He moans your name, over and over again, until his voice becomes a whisper, and his hips relax into yours. His body rests on top of you, hugging you, pressing kisses to your forehead and temples while you wrap your arms around him. He doesn't pull out, and you don't want him to —at least not yet.

Sex with Hyunjin always goes a little bit like this, but it never feels as intimate as it does right now.

Your sweating bodies are pressed against each other, and your hearts are beating at the same rate. Your mouth tastes like red wine, despite you not having drunk any, and Hyunjin’s chest smells like your perfume. 

The crescent moon-like imprints from your nails are still pulsing on his shoulders and back with desire, and your neck still burns with his possessiveness.

It seems as though you two are one, and it is impossible to deny it.

If hate is another synonym for infatuation, you might as well be willing to hate each other until death.

[viktoriaashleyyx]

A list of why I do not like Feyre and question her narrative:

I'm writing this while at work and from memory so it is not comprehensive, feel free to add onto this. Also, I only read up to a few chapters into ACOFAS before I dropped the whole series and got my money back.

First and foremost, the straw that broke the camels back, and the most important: She praised RhySAnd for the enactment of the blockade against Hewn City citizens in Velaris. The Hewn city is a City, not a prison, most of the people trapped there are only guilty of the crime of being born there. I don't blame you, Kier, I would've ignored her ass too for that stupid ass "you have all the comforts here" comment. It is difficult to continue to care that Tamlin locked her up when she shows no empathy towards the people she locks up. When she accepted the title of High Lady she accepted responsibility for the practices and procedures carried out by the Night Court. "I don't want those people ruining my perfect city" stfu.

False r@pe accusation to manipulate Tamlin and Lucien. It seemed like the moral of that scene was "don't trust everyone who tells you they've been r@ped, they could just be manipulating you." Fuck you SJM. These books are the fucking opposite of feminist.

Conjuring wings from a people she is not a part of when MOST of the women from that culture have their wings clipped. She never once thought of them. She never cared. And then proceeds to use them for her partners sexual pleasure. Definitely cultural appropriation.

She never cared or considered the people of the Spring court who she helped destroy. She's gallivanting around the Night court while the citizens of Spring have become refugees in other lands. Tamlin is at least suffering for his part in it.

Her nasty ass comments toward Tarquin who has never done anything to her except send her a damn ruby. Her attitude towards everyone who is not RhySAnd is disgusting and off putting. She's just an entitled brat.

Continues to treat Lucien like shit. He confessed to her about his incredibly tragic past and her response is "it still doesn't excuse how he treated me." Bitch he was rude to you because you killed his friend. No self awareness.

There will be more later, but this is the main shit.

[molsno]

I don't think there's enough discussion of the transmisogynistic voyeurism that's extremely widespread in online spaces. it's definitely a problem offline too but it's become significantly more pervasive and inescapable online.

transmisogynistic voyeurism is an obsession with trans women's internal lives. while traditionally it's usually been focused on our bodies, hormones, sexualities, transitions, and other such aspects that portray us as exotic, artificial, hypersexual mimics of "real" women (this is still largely the case among conservatives), it's taken on a new form in the past several years as society's understanding of transness has slowly improved.

in more recent years, the fascination with trans women and transfemininity, particularly in purportedly progressive spaces, has shifted to focus on the "artificiality" of our womanhood from a sociocultural perspective, rather than from a biological and sexual perspective.

it's become common to see screenshots from 4chan and other similar communities of trans women or transfem eggs posting about their unusual kinks, often with racist or antisemitic undertones. screenshots of ostensibly closeted trans women being transphobic to openly trans people have become commonplace. whenever a trans woman is revealed to be racist or a sexual predator, she becomes the new topic du jour, where everyone has to weigh in and publicly disavow her actions.

you might be thinking, what's the problem with this? after all, shouldn't we be holding racists, antisemites, transphobes, and sexual predators accountable? and while the answer to that question is an unambiguous, resounding "yes!", the problem here is the unusual focus on trans women in particular, and the fact that what's happening doesn't even remotely resemble accountability.

bigotry is not a uniquely transfeminine trait. anyone can be a bigot. however, by and large, even supposed trans allies, people who put "trans women are women" and "terfs dni" in their bio, still secretly see trans women as fundamentally male, due to having been "male socialized" (a notion which very strongly contradicts our own lived experiences). thus, when they see post after post after post of trans women being bigoted, it reifies tme people's beliefs that we are all holders of male privilege who have never had to face oppression before coming out as trans.

this idea is problematic for a number of reasons. first, it denies the experiences of trans women who have been oppressed by other systems before coming out as trans. for example, multiple times in just the past few weeks, I've seen trans women of color accused of being racist, even against people of their own race; as if having to face racism all their lives wasn't bad enough, now they're assumed to be perpetrators of it. however, this idea also ignores the very real effect that transmisogyny has had in shaping our lives, even when we didn't know we were trans ourselves.

when we attempt to talk about this topic - the perception that tme people have of trans women being uniquely bigoted, we are by and large brushed off as seeking to "excuse the actions" of bigoted trans women so that we can be bigoted ourselves. this abject refusal to actually engage with what we are saying to instead paint us as the very people we're constantly made to publicly disavow lest we face social ostracization (even if we have no idea who said people even are) further reifies the stereotype of us as privileged men.

I want you to imagine for a moment if trans men were subjected to this kind of voyeurism instead. on an average day scrolling through tumblr, you'd see a post of a trans man's nsfw blog where he shares posts about how rape should be legal, right alongside his bloodplay and cannibalism kink posts, accusing trans men of normalizing rape and murder. another post would show a screenshot of the trans guy who proclaimed to have been hitler in a past life, accompanied by comments demanding trans men take responsibility by purging their community of people like him. you'd scroll down a little further and see a screenshot of a terf blog with "dysphoric female" in bio where they complain about how a trans man they know has been brainwashed by "gender ideology" with all of the comments hoping they figure out their gender identity but still vehemently disavowing them and asserting they would feel unsafe around such a person even after coming out.

the reason that doesn't happen is because biological essentialism runs rampant even in queer spaces. trans men, who were afab, are often presumed to be incapable of harm due to having been "female socialized". trans men don't have their kinks publicly shared to paint them as dangerous because they're generally assumed to be victims of sexual violence, not perpetrators. trans men aren't collectively held accountable for the actions of one trans man they don't even know because a trans man doing harm is believed to be an anomaly, and thus can be dealt with on an individual basis. that last example is especially laughable, because trans men who were formerly terfs are often lauded as heroes for sharing their stories and offered condolences for having been victims of "cult brainwashing".

the fact that this kind of voyeurism does happen to trans women is because, having been amab, we are presumed to be the perpetrators of harm rather than victims. that's not to say that trans women can't be bigoted or dangerous; clearly they can, or else this kind of voyeurism couldn't exist in the first place.

trans women can be racist, trans women can be antisemitic, trans women can be transphobic, trans women can be sexual predators, and so on. these things are all true. however, they are not more likely to be true of trans women than of other demographics. that's the point I'm trying to make here.

stop and consider for a moment, what accountability actually means. are racist, antisemitic trans women being held accountable when you share screenshots of the bigotry they post anonymously on 4chan? does that screenshot you reblogged of an assumed transfem egg being transphobic to an out trans person hold them responsible for their transphobia? is that racist trans woman who's a convicted sexual predator sentenced to prison being held accountable when you share detailed documentaries about her crimes? are they facing consequences for their actions because of you raising awareness about them?

in the vast majority of cases, the answer is no. what's really happening is that you're raising outrage about trans women, and demanding that all of us publicly disavow and distance ourselves from them, even when we have no idea who they are, so that you won't come after us next. you're upholding the idea that trans women hold a "male privilege debt" that we can never fully repay but must endlessly strive to repay regardless. this obsession with our perceived socially male traits has got to stop.

[venuszn]

☆ : 100 Days

Summary / Bada asks you to give her one hundred days to make you fall in love with her.

Cw / Best friends to lovers, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Fingering, Nipple play, Cunnilingus (Bada and reader give and receive), Scissoring, Dom!Bada, Fem!reader, Emotionally constipated reader, Whipped Bada, MDNI

Author’s note / Thank you for 100 followers ahhhh ! This is my gift from me to all of you. Thank you for liking and reading my fics ! I took inspiration from the movie ‘500 Days of Summer’ and mayhaps a little bit of dialogue inspo from the Netflix show ‘Queen Charlotte’ - if you can spot it then great. I hope you enjoy and as always feel free to let me know your thoughts 💗

Wc / 8.5K words

Day 7

Bada took your hand into hers, locking her fingers inbetween your own. The warmness and firmness of your hands together gave you an unfamiliar feeling as the taller girl walked ahead of you, shopping basket in one hand and you on her other as she snaked her way through the busy aisles muttering small ‘excuse me’’s and ‘thank you’’s as she went. You let Bada guide you and your gaze fell to meet her hand as it protectively gripped yours. You brushed the feeling off, deciding that it was normal - you were friends after all. It’s normal to feel certain emotions around your friends, especially friends who held your hand with such care and warmth as Bada did. It was a simple and cute gesture, that's all it was - cute. Nothing more.

“I don’t know why this has to be a two person job. I could have done the shopping, Bada.” You said as you both finally emerged from the chaos of people around you, your brows slightly furrowed at the busyness around you. Bada adjusted her speed and walked beside you, feet matching your pace and hand remaining firmly in yours. 

She looked down at you with a small smile, “Well, this is what couples do,” she said your name with a hint of amusement at your small frown. “They go shopping together. It’s cute and it’s domestic.” 

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Right, sure. Well, you don’t need to keep on holding my hand. I’m not a baby.”

Bada let go of your hand as she reached to add another item into the basket. She didn’t make a move to reconnect your hands but teased, "I could argue that you actually are my baby now.” You scoffed and jokingly smacked her arm and she laughed.

The cold breeze brushed against your once warm hand and you slightly missed the feeling.

As you walked Bada cleared her throat, “I know you’re used to being independent - doing everything by yourself. But you have me now, so let me be here for you.”

Your eyes fell to the floor as you digested her words. You knew you had your defences up. Your walls were impenetrable towers and Bada had made it her mission to scale upwards in hopes of reaching the top. She was prepared to defeat any fiery beast, whether it be of doubt and fear, that guarded you. Bada wanted to rescue you. 

You said nothing but reached for her hand, eyes avoiding her direction as you took a hold of her palm in yours. You then muttered, “My hand was cold.”

Bada gazed down at you, a small smile on her lips as she adored you. She thought that you were the most adorable thing ever as she raised your intertwined hands and pressed her lips gently against the back of yours. 

“You’re so cute.”

You felt a strange feeling rise up your body and your face felt warm. You ignored it and followed your instinct - to deflect.

“And you’re obsessed with me.” 

Bada chuckled and squeezed your hand gently.

“Wasn’t it obvious ?”

Day 0

You stumbled through the front door, heels in one hand and bag in the other as you managed to twist the handle open with your elbow - a talent you had perfected due to your frequent walks of shame. Although, ‘shame’ wasn’t what you usually felt after such encounters. Sex was nothing but transactional to you, you had sexual needs that needed to be met and then you would repay the favour. You had mastered the act of separating your emotions from intimacy in all forms - especially romantic relationships. However, this time you did feel a little bit of shame and perhaps a little bit of rage as you kicked the door shut with the back of your foot before your body fell slack against it in defeat. 

Your tired eyes scanned the apartment, there was no sign of your roommate apart from a steaming cup of herbal tea that sat on the kitchen island waiting for you. You smiled to yourself at how attentive she always was toward you. She always did small gestures like this, despite not being in support of your nightly escapades, she always made sure you came home to your go-to hangover relief. You dropped your bag and heels and made your way over to sit down before a distant voice you recognised called your name.

You turned to see your roommate, Bada Lee, as she speedwalked down the hallway to you. “You’re home. Good morning.” She quickly greeted with a small smile as she hurriedly beelined around your shared apartment, picking up her keys and then putting on her trainers. 

“Good morning. Yes, I'm home. Thank goodness.”

Bada paused in her actions as she heard your words. “What happened ?” 

You laughed dryly before taking a sip of your tea. “She had a girlfriend this entire time.” 

It almost sounded like a cruel joke hearing yourself say it.

“Fuck. How did you find out ?”

“Long story short - I was hooking up with a sleazebag that couldn't go two weeks without sex. So she decided to lie and say she was single whilst her girlfriend was actually away visiting family . . . I feel like shit.” You groaned into your palm before running your fingers through your hair.

Bada walked over and sat beside you.

“I hope you know that’s not your fault.”

“I feel like I should have been more aware. This is exactly why I don’t do relationships - it gets messy. I should have cut it off after the first couple nights like I usually do, but I got comfortable thinking we could also be friends.”

Bada stared at your deflated frame and internally prayed for the moment that you would finally notice her. She had been by your side ever since you both met a couple years ago in college and had become roomies. You both became inseparable; but she saw you in a light which you did not reflect with her - she was in love with you but you had an aversion to the emotion. 

“Anyways,” you said, pulling her out of her thoughts. “You have somewhere to be don’t you ? I don’t want to make you late.”

Bada immediately interjected, “It can wait. It’s fine, if you need me to stay I will.”

“Go, Bada. It’s fine. I’ll be fine.” You said as you stood up and gave her shoulder a squeeze as you walked past her. “I’ll be going to sleep now anyway. See you later.” 

Bada watched you leave - a recurring pattern that she was becoming sick of. She was sick of watching you leave to go and spend the night with other people. She was sick of watching you leave to go and isolate yourself. You had your walls high up and you only ever depended on yourself - nobody else. But Bada knew that you deserved better. She knew that you could be happy with the right person. 

So she decided that she would take a chance and try to be that person for you.

Later that evening, you found yourself on the couch in your bestfriends arms as you cuddled, her arms wrapped around you from behind and you both laid there - a gesture that wasn’t unusual to the both of you. You both lay in relative silence as she played with your hair, your eyes trained on the television in front of you but hers focused on you. 

She swallowed her nerves and cleared her throat, “How are you feeling ?”

Her fingers twirled strands of your hair and her grip on you tightened slightly. 

“I’m okay now. I’m over it. Shit happens but life goes on.”

Bada lightly called your name.

You hummed. 

“Give me one hundred days.” 

“What ?”

“Give me one hundred days and I can make you fall in love with me.”

You nearly burst out laughing, thinking she was joking but when you turned to face her you saw seriousness written on her face.

“You’re not joking ?” You said as you removed yourself from her arms and stood up; taking a couple steps back.

“No. I’m not.” Bada rose to her feet, her tall frame exceeding yours by inches as she stared down at you with eyes full of determination. “I am tired of watching you be miserable. I’m tired of sitting back and watching you leave and spend the night with random people that don’t care about you. I know you, and I know that you’re not happy. I know that you could be happier and I know that I can do that for you. I'm your best friend but give me one hundred days - give me one summer to show you how you deserve to be treated. I want to show you that you deserve to be loved and you deserve to feel it too.”

You stood there, words dying on your tongue as your head spinned. “Bada, where is this coming from ? You know how I feel about relationships . . .”

“I do know yes. But I know it’s because you’re afraid of being hurt.” 

Bada took a step toward you.

“But you don’t have to be afraid with me,” your name fell from her lips as she gazed down at you. “I would never dream of hurting you. I’m not perfect, I know. But I can promise you that I am worth taking the chance with. Just one hundred days, spend the summer by my side and if you want to stop at any moment you can. We can end it at any time and forget it ever happened.”

“But the fact that you’re my best friend scares me even more, Bada . . .”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to make a decision right now. I just thought I'd put it out there. If you ever decide to give love a chance, I'm here to guide you through it.”

The next day you woke up, wondering if it was all a dream. That your best friend had not basically admitted to being in love with you. You had love for Bada, but it wasn’t romantic. She was your best friend. You loved spending time in her company, you loved how she would always make you laugh, you loved how she would hold you in her arms as you both laid on the couch watching a series that the both of you knew you would never finish. You loved how her fingers felt in your hair when she would mindlessly play with it and you loved how you both seemed to complete each other. But Bada was your best friend - it was simply platonic. And that is what you planned to tell her that morning when you made your way out of your room; but a familiar voice grabbed your attention. 

“I know she’s here. Just let me see her, I want to apologise.”

“I told you to leave. She’s not here and even if she was, there’s no way I'd let you speak to her,” Bada’s chest puffed out slightly as she glared down at the girl standing at the door. 

“Go home. Now.”

Goosebumps rose on your skin. You had never seen Bada like that before, her intimidating aura completely caught you off guard as you stood and watched the encounter unfold.

“Or what ?” The girl scoffed.

“Or I'll shove those shitty roses down your throat. And I mean what I say - which might be a foreign concept to you. So get lost.”

“Who the fuck are you ? You’re not her fucking girlfriend, let me speak to her for fucks sake.” The girl cursed, quickly losing the last ounce of her composure. 

You knew Bada wouldn’t stand down and you quickly walked over and poked your head from behind her tall frame. 

“Hi. You’re speaking to me now and I'm telling you to go home. I don’t want to hear your excuses. You lied - end of.”

Your eyes immediately caught the sight of the bouquet of roses in the girl's hands and you scoffed at the audacity. 

“There’s no way. Please, go home. I don’t have time for this.”

The girl gripped the roses tighter as she held them out to you. “I wanted to apologise. I’m sorry for what happened and how things played out. I’m single now and I want to win you back. I hope that we can finally date now-”

“Of course you’re single, you're a liar and a cheater !” You laughed bitterly.

You hadn't noticed, but Bada had taken a step back, allowing you to take the reins. She stood to the side, hands in pockets and a small smirk on her face as she admired you right in that moment - your rage making her fall harder.

“And if I wanted to date someone it most certainly would not be you. Now leave and don’t come back. Don’t contact me either.”

You slammed the door. 

You let out a breath and turned back to face Bada. 

“Can you believe her ? Bringing me roses and asking me to date her . . .” You scoffed as the anger slowly sizzled within you. 

“If only she knew that your favourite flowers are tulips.” 

Her words extinguished any flicker of anger left within you.

You both stood there, looking at the other for a moment.

“Bada, are you in love with me ?” You breathed out.

She paused for a moment before responding.

“I am.”

You were so dazed that you weren't sure if your heart skipped a beat or sank into your chest. 

“For how long ?”

“For as long as I can remember.”

You exhaled.

“What you said yesterday . . . Did you mean it ?”

“I did. I want to be the one to make you happy.”

You breathed out a nervous breath, “Bada, I can’t promise you anything. I can’t promise that I actually will fall in love with you at the end of the summer. I can’t promise that I won’t self sabotage and maybe ruin our friendship in the process. That’s if I agree to this.”

Bada took a tentative step toward you.

“I won’t let our friendship be ruined. I won’t give that up but if you choose to then there’s not much I can do. But just know that whatever you decide, right now or further down the line, I’ll respect it.”

You took a deep inhale and played with your fingers as the nerves crawled up your body. Disbelief in yourself at your following words.

“Then, okay.”

“Okay ?”

“You’re right, I am scared of being hurt and of love. But I also trust you - you’re my best friend and there’s nobody else I'd rather try this with.”

You took a step forward.

“So, okay. I’ll give you one hundred days to make me fall in love with you.”

Bada’s heart bounced around her chest in a dance of glee and she smiled down at you, her hand reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You won’t regret it, I promise.” 

And that was how it began - Day 1. 

Day 16

Hushed laughter and giggles filled the summer evening air as you and Bada walked arm in arm down the dimly lit street.  

“You are definitely drunk.” Bada laughed as she held onto you tighter, steadying your footsteps. 

“I am not !” You gasped overdramatically as you snapped your head to face her. “I’m a little tipsy, that’s all. And so are youuuu.” You sang as you poked her chest, giggling as the alcohol made you feel light and free as a feather.

Bada grabbed your wrist and pulled you aside. 

“Watch where you’re going. We only had about two drinks, I forgot how much of a lightweight you are.” She teased.

“You’re a little tipsy too, don’t lie.” 

“But I’m not a lightweight like you.”

You whacked her arm jokingly and detached yourself from her hold, attempting to walk ahead of her but she chuckled and swiftly caught your arm, gently tugging you back. 

“Now where do you think you’re going, hm ?”

“Away from you.” You stubbornly replied but allowed her to place her hand in yours once more.

“Did you enjoy dinner ?” The older girl asked, fingers now locked with yours.

“I did, yes. It was nice. Thank you again for taking me out.”

“And again, it’s my pleasure. I'm glad you had a good time.” Bada smiled down at you and you avoided her gaze.

Suddenly the night sky rumbled as thunder rippled through the air. Almost instantaneously, raindrops began falling, accelerating in speed as the heavens opened up. 

You squealed with laughter and Bada’s grip tightened as she pulled you through the rain. 

“Bada, run !” You laughed as the both of you picked up speed and ran for the trees in hopes of shelter. 

“You just had to suggest that we walk.” You laughed as the raindrops fell mostly around the both of you now that you were under the protective umbrella of a tree’s leaves, the occasional droplet slipped its way through the gaps of the branches.

“I thought a moonlit walk would be romantic.” Bada laughed as she wiped her face, her fringe stuck to her forehead. 

You smiled at the sight of her. 

Bada smiled back as the both of you stood there, held hostage by the plummeting raindrops.

You tore yourself away from her gaze, cleared your throat and turned your back to her. The sight of the gleaming full moon stole your attention and you pointed to it, “Bada, look. We can still watch the moon.”

“Uhuh.” The taller girl muttered as she was, instead, watching you. 

“It’s so pretty.” You gushed as you continued to face away from her.

“It is.” Bada wasn’t talking about the moon.

Bada reached out and gently took a hold of your fingers and turned you to face her. 

“You know how you always said that kissing in the rain was overdramatic and overdone in the movies ?” Bada muttered as her fingers grazed over your knuckles.

“Yeah . . .” 

She licked her lips and your heart thumped in your chest.

“Do you wanna be really overdramatic with me right now ?” 

You swore it was the alcohol in your system but the rain had sobered you up.

“Ok.” You whispered.

Bada took a step out into the rain and pulled you against her, foreheads meeting in the middle as the rain showered over the both of you. You licked your lips in anticipation, and Bada let out a small hum before her thumb brushed over your bottom lip.

Your breath caught in your throat. 

You reminded yourself that it was just a kiss.

“Do you want this ?” She said in a breathless whisper.

“I do.”

Bada didn’t hesitate as she grabbed your waist and pulled you impossibly closer to her, your lips collided in a desperate dance of both certainty and uncertainty. Bada was certain that right at that moment, you had completed her. The way you fit so perfectly in her hands, the way your lips melted together and tongues danced - she was certain. 

You, however, were uncertain. Uncertain of if you had just felt a crack form within the walls surrounding your heart. It was impossible. You imagined it. 

Because it was just a kiss.

Day 18

“Achoo !” 

You sneezed into the tissue and Bada passed you another. 

“This is your fault.” You coughed out before letting out another sneeze.

Bada sat beside you and draped a thick blanket around your frame. “You’ve said that five times already.”

You curled into the blanket and Bada wrapped an arm around you, her other hand holding a bowl toward you.

“Now, drink your soup. I just made it.”

After your date in the rain you had fallen sick and despite your persistent arguments that you were fine and could take care of yourself - Bada was right beside you, nursing you back to health. 

You had threatened her with the likely possibility that she too would fall sick but Bada responded by driving to the store, buying your favourite snacks and then making you a hot bowl of soup before she settled beside you on the couch, arms wrapped around you as they usually were.

You took a sip of your soup and you groaned.

“You’re making it so hard to stay mad at you.”

“You were never mad at me.”

Day 21

Bada groaned as she staggered into the living room, her duvet trailing behind her and swallowing her frame.

“I'm sick.”

You rolled your eyes and stood up.

“I told you you’d get sick. You didn’t listen, and you say I'm stubborn.”

Bada responded with another groan and a cough as she glided across the room in the oversized blanket before dramatically collapsing onto the couch. 

“Go back to bed, Bada. You’ll be comfier there.” You said as you busied yourself in the kitchen, preparing some breakfast for your roommate. 

Bada raised her head to look over to you. 

“Is that for me ?”

“It is.” 

“You’re so - ACHOO ! - cute.”

She wiped her nose and you snorted.

“Go back to bed.”

Day 48

You stood, fingers gripping the rubber basketball as you took a deep breath, eyes fixed on the target.

A few feet away from you stood three basketball hoops, and a row of soft plushies hung besides them on either side. There was only one last shot that stood in between you and your chosen soft toy. And you were aiming for the winning shot.

Bada stood behind you, her hands rested on your hips as she chanted words of encouragement into your ears.

“You got this. Just one last hoop.”

You took your stance and raised the ball slightly above your eye line, you then perched it on your fingertips as you aimed and then launched it at the hoop.

The basketball hit the backboard and then bounced onto the ring.

It edged along the circumference of the hoop almost in slow motion before it finally fell through the middle.

You cheered and jumped and Bada scooped you up into her strong embrace, spinning you around.

You laughed and she kissed your nose.

“Now, what will the lucky lady choose ?” The man working at the stall grinned as his arm stretched out, showcasing his collection of prizes.

You immediately pointed to a big dolphin plushie and the guy handed it over to you. You thanked him and then spun around before holding the cuddly toy out to Bada. She raised her brow slightly and you gently pushed the toy into her arms.

“It’s for you. A dolphin goes with the sea.”

Bada stood there, slightly taken aback but touched. She took the dolphin plushie from you and held it to her chest before she grabbed your chin with her thumb and index finger, angling your face upwards to face her.

“Thank you, baby.”

She closed the gap and softly kissed your lips.

Bada had taken you to the annual summer fair and you were honestly having a great time. There were times where you would forget the circumstances in which you were under - that your best friend was trying to make you fall in love with her. And days like this, where you both seemed to revel in each other’s company, overpowered the blaring sirens in your head each time you shared yearning touches and gentle kisses. You chalked it up to the fact that you were best friends, so of course it felt the way it did - so right.

Evening approached and you and Bada found yourselves in the carriage of a ferris wheel as it steadily travelled skywards. You mentioned that you wanted to see the fireworks and Bada took it upon herself to ensure that you did - from the sky. 

The evening sky bled to a deep blue. You watched as remnants of the summer sun, still lingering in light brush strokes, soon faded into the darkness as the night sky took command.

Bada’s body pressed up behind you, her arms on either side of you as she held onto the railing. You absentmindedly leaned back into her chest and she placed her chin on your shoulder, before ghosting her lips against the skin of your neck.

Shivers ran down your spine.

You parted your lips to say something but a bright shooting light rushed up into the sky before exploding into thousands of spectacular sparks. Countless more followed as the once empty canvas, that was the night sky, became an artwork of shimmering colours.

The romantic ambience of the night didn't escape you and neither did the pestering butterflies that fluttered around your stomach. 

Your carriage was nearing the top and Bada placed a hand on your waist and turned you around. Face to face with inches between you, ‘Have her eyes always shone like this ? Were they always this pretty ?’

“Bada . . .” You breathed out onto her nearing lips.

“Hm ?” Her hand snaked around your waist.

“I-I think I like you . . .”

Your words halted Bada in her motions and she stared at you as her eyes scanned your face.

“You do ?” She said with a hopeful breath.

You nod your head, swallowing hard.

“Don’t think about it.” You whisper to Bada but also to yourself as the realisation of your words hit you.

“But-”

“Just kiss me.”

You leaned in, eliminating all distance between the two of you. Your lips crashed against Bada’s and you felt her immediately pull you flush against her, in return, your arms found their way around her broad shoulders. Bada nibbled on your bottom lip and you parted them, making way for her wet tongue to explore your mouth. You felt her tongue meet yours and a moan escaped your lips. Hearing your desperate sounds, Bada’s hands slided down to your ass, giving it a squeeze before sliding back up your back and over your body as she worshipped you.

“Fuck. You’re so perfect.” The taller girl groaned before desperately reattaching her mouth to yours.

Sparks flew as your lips spoke in a dance of tenderness and yearning. Likewise, the sparks of fire that cascaded down the night sky fell around you both in a glistening waterfall of explosive vibrancy as you reached the top - lost in the hunger for each other.

Bada had never kissed you like that. She had never touched you like that or looked so deeply into your soul with such desire and the events and emotions from the night played over in your mind as you now sat besides her in the passenger seat as she drove the both of you home.

You entered into your shared apartment and Bada followed behind you, shutting the door. You turned to face her and she took a step toward you, eyes never breaking their contact.

Your heart wrestled with reason as you fought the urge to jump back into her arms.

You saw Bada bite her lip slightly as her eyes scanned your body.

“Um,” you cleared your throat, “I’ll be going to bed now.”

“O-oh yeah. Me too, it’s late.”

“Yeah.” 

You quickly set off for your room and shut the door behind you, body leant against it as you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. This was the right call, for sure. The tension was too high right now and you didn’t want to cross any lines that you couldn’t go back on.

You sighed and then dragged yourself to your bathroom, ready to wash off the thoughts that plagued your mind.

Bada sat on the edge of her bed, face in her hands as she fought the urge to go over to your room. The last thing she wanted was to go too fast, especially after you had just confessed to harbouring some feelings for her; she didn’t want to overwhelm you. But Bada swore that she didn’t imagine the look in your eyes or the way you held onto her as you kissed and touched. Did you want her the way she wanted you ?

Down the hall you paced around in your room. Picking at your fingernails as you deliberated the consequences of walking down the hallway and knocking on your best friend's door.

A brief moment passed.

“Fuck it.” You said under your breath as you strode over to swing open your door.

But before you stood said best friend, with a hand frozen in motion as if about to knock.

Your heart skipped several beats and found its way into your throat. Words failed to leave your lips as you stood frozen, eyes locked with Bada’s.

“Hey.” She muttered, licking her lips slightly as her chest rose and fell with anticipation.

“Hey.” You whispered back, heat rushing through your veins.

“I thought you were going to bed ?” You breathed out.

“I thought you were.”

“I can’t sleep.” 

“Neither can I.” Bada’s gaze intensified.

Your body took over your mind and you took a slow step backward into your room, eyes never leaving Bada’s.

She followed your lead and took a step forwards, shutting the door behind her with her foot, eyes never leaving yours.

“What are we doing ?” You whisper as the suffocating tension stole your breath away.

“Tell me to leave.” She breathed out as she stared into your eyes.

“I don't want that.” 

“What do you want ?” Bada gazed at you with want.

“Stay . . . Please.” 

You took a step forward.

“I’ll stay.” Bada muttered as she admired your features and took in the slight crease of your brow and the way you nibbled on your bottom lip. She knew you were nervous.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Bada said as she reached up and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“What if I want to . . .”

Bada’s eyes darkened slightly and she cupped your face in her gentle hands. 

“What do you want to do, hm ?”

“This.” 

You pressed your lips against hers in a fervent passion, your arms wrapped around her shoulders and hers grabbed onto your hips as she held you impossibly close. Your breaths mixed and small moans fell from your tongue as it danced along with hers. 

“Are you sure about this ?” Bada said in between kisses as the both of you stumbled across your room in the direction of your bed, lips refusing to part.

“I’m sure, Bada.” You whisper before Bada gently lowered you onto the bed.

Bada climbed on top of you and you lay there, lashes fluttering as you held her stare.

She licked her lips and leaned in to press a kiss behind your ear. You shivered and she began a tender trail of kisses down your neck muttering gentle whispers onto your warm skin as her hands slid under and up your shirt, fingers grazing your delicate body.

“Relax for me.”

Time seemed to stop as you and Bada laid there exploring each other's bodies. With the barrier of clothes and fabrics long gone, your bodies pressed together merging into one as her fingers slid in and out of you. Your hips bucked against her, desperately chasing the pleasure but Bada’s grip on your waist firmed as she held you in place.

“You’re so sensitive aren’t you ?” Bada muttered, her gaze deep with craving as her fingers continued their relentless pounding into your dripping cunt. She licked her lips. Your body was beautiful and she struggled to comprehend that the person laid bare before her wasn’t actually a being - heaven sent. But to her you were one and the same.

Moans and whimpers of her name fell from your lips and you grabbed onto her arm. “I-I'm close, Bada.”

She smirked down at you and lowered her head down to meet your aching core. Bada wasted no time and attached her plump lips to your clit, sucking and licking it as her fingers pumped in and out of you - speed increasing.

Your back arched and your fingers dug into the sheets beneath you as an earth shattering wave of pleasure crashed through your body causing your legs to shake. Bada moaned onto your clit as she sucked on it; the feeling of your walls contracting around her fingers turned her on even more and she lowered her tongue before licking your cunt dry as it dripped with your sweet release.

You laid breathless and legs twitching as you came down from your climax. Bada ran her hands softly over your sides as they travelled up your body. One hand rested on your neck and the other took your left breast into its palm before gently massaging it.

“You’re so beautiful.” She muttered before pressing her lips to yours in a messy open mouthed kiss, your tongues fought against the other as you tasted yourself on her.

You broke away from the kiss and sat up. “I wanna make you feel good too . . .” You looked up at the taller girl with pleading eyes.

Bada felt her heart flip and she bit her lip at the thought of you touching her.

“C’mere then, princess.”

Bada pulled you up on top of her and you straddled her waist. Her fingers dug into your hot skin and yours trailed along her chest, grazing over her nipples.

She inhaled a sharp breath and you smirked a little before taking her nipples in between your thumb and pointer and began rolling them. You felt as they quickly hardened and you lowered your head to her chest, gazing up at Bada as she gazed back down at you. Your lips parted and took Bada’s erect nipple into your mouth, tongue swirling around it as you licked her chest, savouring the taste of her skin and the sounds she made above you.

Bada moaned a little, hands gripped your waist as she pushed her chest out further into your mouth.

“Fuck, baby. Your tongue feels so good.” She whispered breathlessly. “You gonna let me use that pretty little mouth of yours ?”

You hummed in response and began a trail of kisses down her chest and torso. Bada smirked down at you and leaned back on her elbows as she spread her legs apart for you. 

Your heart hammered in your chest and you didn't question why. You kissed Bada’s thighs, inching closer to core. You looked up at her through your lashes and her intense gaze bore into you, turning you on impossibly more. You held her gaze as you leaned in, your fingers slid up her wetness and then parted her pussy lips exposing her dripping hole to you. You stuck out your tongue and pressed it against her clit circling it in steady motions.

Bada jolted above you and she moaned out a curse. 

Her noises and breathless moans fueled your tongue as you began sucking and licking her clit, moaning as you did so. You kept her lips parted, determined to taste every part of her as your wet muscle travelled down to her aching hole. You prodded your tongue against it, circling it and lapping up her juices as she jerked her hips onto your face.

“Fuck. Just like that, baby. Eat my pussy like the pretty little slut you are.” Bada groaned as her fingers reached down to tangle in your hair, gripping it in her palm as she held your face against her aching cunt.

You moaned at her words, sending vibrations onto her sensitive skin as you continued to lick her folds. You felt yourself grow wetter and you stretched your hand between your legs and began rubbing your clit, matching the pace of your tongue against her.

“Are you touching yourself ?” Bada breathed out as she pulled you away from her by your hair, making you look at her.

You paused in your actions and nodded wordlessly.

Bada’s eyes darkened and she licked her lips. “Such a needy whore.”

Bada flipped you over. You laid on the mattress and she perched above you. She grabbed your legs and pulled you closer to her, angling you on your side and then lay on her side before sliding her legs in between yours - your wet cunts inches away from touching.

“You wanna come again, hm ? Well come with me, princess.” 

Bada gripped onto your ankle as she held your leg over her shoulder and then slid closer to join her pussy with yours. Your wet cunts rubbed against each other as Bada took control of the rhythm, jerking her hips forwards as her pussy lips kissed yours. Your clits bumped and slid against each other’s and whimpers and moans danced from your lips and hers. 

“You feel so good, baby.” Bada moaned.

“F-fuck. Don’t stop . . .” You whimpered.

And Bada didn’t stop. The both of you spent the night tangled in each other, moaning praises as you worshipped each other’s bodies.

Day 73

The music boomed from the stereos and cheers and excited whispers danced alongside it in the air. Bada stood in the middle of the practice room as students gathered and watched from the sides. The tempo built up and Bada began to move her body to the beat, her aura of swagger encompassing her as she moved. 

You had invited Bada to your dance class and everyone begged her to do her iconic choreo to ‘You Got It’. So there she was, dancing as the crowd around her ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’. 

You watched from the front of the crowd, arms crossed as your eyes followed her every move - as if in a trance. A small smile sat on your lips as you watched the way she emulated the vibe of the lyrics through her body and expressions, you felt butterflies in your stomach as you watched her and blushed at the way her eyes flickered to you at certain lyrics. 

Bada held your gaze as she continued to dance, she then smoothly made her way over to you as the beat came to a low point in the song. You laughed and shook your head at her - knowing exactly what part of the choreo she was about to do next. Bada smiled back at you and took your hand in hers, bringing you to the dance floor with her as she danced the lyrics to you. 

Oh yeah, it's time to mix it up and get ya glow girl.

Bada slid right up to you with a smirk as she grabbed her pants and jerked her hips, eyes not leaving yours. 

The practice room broke out into squeals and screams and you laughed and moved your body along with the music as Bada continued to dance around you.

I want you to know that girl you got it. 

Bada ended her dance with her hands on your hips and yours around her shoulders. 

The room exploded into chaos and you stepped back, laughing to hide the nerves that bubbled within you. Bada, on the other hand, just gazed at you with a grin on her face - you were all she saw in that moment.

Day 90

The morning sun poked through the curtains and you tossed and turned, opening your eyes slightly. Beside you laid Bada, snoring lightly. You smiled to yourself and brushed her messy fringe with your fingers as you found yourself admiring her peaceful face. The way her pink lips parted slightly, her long lashes that rested against her soft skin and cheeks tinted with a slight pink hue. You loved waking up to the sight of her. You don’t know when it began but you had been sleeping in her bed, regardless of sex. You enjoyed coming home and climbing into her warm embrace as she would cuddle you and kiss the top of your head - a usual practice between the two of you. You loved how she would hold your hand when in public and you loved how her fingers slid perfectly in yours. You loved how she still made you your favourite cup of herbal tea each morning and then would kiss your forehead after handing it to you.

You paused. 

Realisation washed over you like an avalanche of repressed emotions. 

You immediately got out of bed as quietly as your nerves would allow. You then picked up your clothes that were scattered on the floor and hurried out of Bada’s room. 

If Bada was awake she would have heard the front door shut. But she wouldn’t have known that that would be the last time she saw you that week.

Day 97

Bada opened your messages and saw that you still had not responded to her since three days ago when you sent her a brief, ‘Busy all week. Don’t wait up.’

She sighed in frustration and gripped her hair in her hands. Thoughts weighed heavy on her mind, she wondered if she did something wrong, she wondered if she hurt you. Bada decided that enough was enough and she would speak to no matter what.

Later that night, you softly unlocked the front door, opening it in small intervals to avoid making any sounds. You had been avoiding Bada all week and as far as you were concerned you intended to continue, until you snapped out of whatever delusion you believed yourself to be in. Because that's what it is - delusion.

You creeped down the hallway and gently opened your room door and entered, you faltered in your step because before you sat your roommate. Bada looked up at you from her seat on your bed and stood up.

She said your name in a soft manner and you recoiled.

“What are you doing ?” You asked.

“Waiting for you. You’ve been avoiding me all week.”

“I’ve been busy. I told you.”

Bada’s eyes scan your frame, eyening your choice of attire.

“Busy going out in short dresses and heels and then coming home late at night ?”

Bada stepped forward.

“Whilst also reeking of alcohol ?”

You scoffed. “And so what ? Since when have you cared about what I wear or do ?”

Bada frowns. “Since you decided to ghost me for a week after things were going so well.”

“Things were going well for you.” You folded your arms.

Bada scanned your face, she knew you were lying.

She took another step forward, now in front of you, breaths away.

You stood your ground and stayed firm in place, trying your best to keep your walls upright and strong.

“So you’re telling me that you didn’t like the way I held you.” Bada whispered as her hands moved to rest on your waist, thumb rubbing gentle circles into your skin.

You gulped and cleared your throat.

“Bada . . .”

“Or the way I touched you.” She tightened her grip on your waist and pushed you back against the door, trapping you in her arms. 

Your heart pounded against your chest and you cursed at it.

“Tell me to stop.” She whispered as she looked at you with darkened eyes.

Your eyes flickered to her lips and you found yourself closing your eyes and leaning in.

Bada met you halfway and crashed her lips into yours. She pressed herself against you and your arms flew to her shoulders, securing your bodies together. The taller girl bit your bottom lip and groaned into your mouth before her tongue slid in and you let out a small moan in response.

Why did kissing your roommate - your best friend - feel so right ? You had spent the past week arguing with yourself and begging your heart to stop its yearning for the older girl. You liked her, that was it. It wasn’t love. It would never be love, because you did not do love. It was messy and it always ended in pain. You couldn’t fall in love with your best friend.

Your hands removed themselves from Bada’s shoulders and you roughly pushed her away. Breath heavy and lips slightly swollen as you blinked at her for a moment. 

“Leave.” You whispered.

“What ?” Bada muttered, unsure of if she heard you correctly,

“Get out of my room, Bada.” You begged, eyes glossing with tears.

Bada’s brows twitched and she reached out for you.

“Get Out ! Now !” You cried out.

“I don’t love you. I will never love you. Fuck, I don’t know why I agreed to this,” You ran your fingers through your hair as you paced around your bedroom.

Bada’s eyes never left you as she stood frozen.

Your head snapped to look at her. “You deserve better. I can’t love you. So leave Bada.”

You had Bada’s heart in the palm of your hand. For as long as she could remember she knew that her heart belonged to you. But you had now grabbed the organ that beats for you and crushed it between your delicate fingers.

So Bada honoured your wishes and she left.

Day 99

Bada had been going out every night since that night. You knew this because you would hear the slam of the front door each evening when she left and then hours later when she came back home in a drunken state.

However, tonight was different. 

Your phone rings and you see Bada’s name flash up on your screen. Your heart skips a beat and you stare at it for a moment. 

“Hello ?” You say into the phone, unsure of what to expect.

“Hello ?” A muffled voice you don’t recognise responds as it asks your name to confirm.

“Yes, that’s me. Who are yo-”

“Can you come and get Bada ? She’s completely wasted.”

That's how you found yourself guiding a very drunken Bada back through your apartment doors and into her bedroom.

Bada stumbled onto her bed and you took a step back. “I’ll be back. I’ll go get you a cup of water.”

You returned to see Bada had kicked off her shoes and laid face first into the mattress.

“Bada ? Here.” You say, handing her the cup.

“I didn’t think you would actually come back.” She mumbled turning to face you. “You hate me.”

Your heart ached. “I don’t hate you, Bada.”

“I’m sorry for being in love with you.” She slurs as tears brim in her eyes. 

You swallow the lump in your throat and move to sit on the edge of her bed. “Don’t be sorry. Please just drink this and try to sleep.”

Bada takes the cup from you. “ Will you leave ?” 

“Um, I-I can if you want me to.” You stammer, playing with your fingers nervously.

“Please don’t leave me. I don’t want my best friend to hate me. I don’t want to lose you . . .” You watch as a tear falls from Bada’s eye and your heart cracks.

As if by instinct you move closer to Bada and you hold her in your arms, comforting her with a hug. “I won’t leave you, Bada. And I don’t hate you . . . It’s the opposite.” You whisper the last part under your breath.

Bada wraps her arms around your waist before allowing her body to relax in your arms. Her eyes flutter shut and you stare down at her as she dozes off - this particular scene forcing memories and emotions back into your mind.

You then try to remove yourself from her hold but she grips onto you tighter. 

“Stay.” You hear a small whisper and so you do.

You wrapped your arms back around Bada and you stayed.

Day 100

Morning came and your eyes fluttered open. Bada now lay behind you, arm slung over your body as she pressed up against you. Events of last night still clear in your mind, you intended to slip out of Bada’s arms and back into your room in hopes that she didn’t remember much.

You gently took Bada’s arm and raised it, slipping out of her hold and then inching closer to the edge of the bed. You let out a hushed exhale and then stood up, gently treading as you made your way to her door.

“Are you leaving ?”

A sleepy voice halts you in your tracks.

You swiftly turn and see a messy haired Bada rubbing her eyes as she sits up.

“Hi,” you breathe out, “I’m just going back to my room.”

“Oh, alright . . . Thank you for staying when I asked.”

Your stomach drops a little. “You remember asking ?”

“I remember a little bit.”

“O-oh, okay. Well I hope you feel a little better now.” You rushed as your hand grabbed onto the door handle and swung it open.

“What did you mean when you said that you didn’t hate me, that it was the opposite ?” 

Your heart stopped.

“I didn’t say that. You were drunk, Bada.” 

“I know what I heard,” Bada says your name firmly. “Why did you push me away ?”

Bada slowly rose to her feet, gaining her balance.

“Because I can’t love you.” You muttered, eyes avoiding hers.

Bada stepped forward. “And why can’t you love me ?”

Your feet refused to move. 

“You deserve better than me. I’m not meant to love or be loved . . .” 

Bada took another step closer.

“Do you love me ?”

Your heart thundered in your chest.

“Bada, I can’t-”

“Do you love me ?”

You swallowed hard.

“I’m not the one for yo-”

“I can decide that for myself, if you’re the one or not. You don’t get to make decisions regarding the both of us and how I feel toward you.” Bada breathes out as she takes another step, now standing directly before you. “My heart beats for you. It belongs to you like it was carved and sculpted to beat to the rhythm of your name. I know you and I know that I love you. Do you love me ?”

“I love you.” You choke out. Tears glossing your eyes. “I-I do love you. But I'm afraid, Bada.”

Bada takes you in her arms. 

“You can love, so you’re meant to be loved. It is scary, yes. But I'm here and I love you in return.”

You cried into Bada’s chest as she held you to her heart as it pumped just for you. 

The once impenetrable towers that stood mighty around your heart now crumbled. The remaining bricks fell away as Bada tamed the fiery beast that guarded your fragile heart, forcing the doubt and fear into submission as she held you and wiped your falling tears. Bada had rescued you.

“You deserve to be happy,” Bada mutters into your hair as she traces mindless patterns on your back, still holding you dear. “You deserve to be loved.”

“You make me happy.” You sniffle.

“And I'm glad. You make me happy too.” She whispers before you pull away from her embrace, wiping your teary eyes.

“I think I've always loved you, Bada.” You whisper, eyes locked with hers. “And that’s what frightened me.”

Bada took your face in her palm, thumb gently rubbing your cheek.

“I’ve always loved you and I don’t think I'll stop anytime soon.”

“Please don't stop.” You plead in one breath.

Bada gazes at you with eyes full of adoration.

“I won't. I love you,” your name gently falls from her lips.

“I love you too, Bada.”

Bada smiles and brings you closer. She leans in and joins her lips with yours in a tender exchange of love - love that the two of you always shared.

Tag List / / @princhii , @lil-elliesgf , @wiselight @nimixe ! [OPEN]

[rayveneyed]

cw: smut / a/b/o dynamics / cisfem!reader

contrary to popular, old-fashioned belief, alphas and omegas can be friends.

long gone are those times of wilful ignorance, the use of nature as an excuse for shitty behaviour —well, i'm an alpha, see, so i really can't help trying to shove my hand up your skirt, so—

most people are chill nowadays, you like to think — like to being the key phrase. sure, you get the occasional tradomega trying to tell you that you need to dive into your divine feminine and serve your alpha as god intended — and you've definitely been on the receiving side of some ticking biological clock rhetoric, for sure, by snot-nosed alphas with not even a single yen to their name — but it is what it is.

all of this to say that: when sero hanta is guts deep in you, it's completely platonic. completely. cute. casual. nowadays, no hair-brained ideas of marriage or monogamy or commitment accompany your coupling — it’s animal instinct, dirty and intense and slick and hot, scratching a biological itch, and that’s it.

you really lucked out on your choice of partner, too. sero’s an alpha, yes, but not in the derogatory sense. he doesn't get pissed when he smells other alphas on you, like a territorial dog; doesn't tell you that you should be settled down, already, with a household of pups to manage at 25 years of age; doesn't push and prod when you work long hours and devote most of your time to your career. he's funny, and goofy, and tall, and lean, and — and, well, his hair is floppy and inky black, and when he's hunched over you, sweat dripping onto your collarbone from his pointed nose, his cheeks flush the cutest shade of pink…

ahem. anyways.

while there are many omegas that are no doubt stronger than you when it comes to heats, forgoing human contact in favour of 700-odd pounds of silicone, you're part of the large majority that would rather shack up with somebody real. you're not knocking it, of course! your sock drawer is testament to the fact that you love your silicone, really, but there's just something about a person. all heat and skin-to-skin, sticky and nasty in a way that leaves you more satisfied than anything else.

and sero — with his kind eyes and goofy smile (and skintight hero suit) — is not only more than willing to help you through your heats, but have you enjoy them. not an easy feat when your insides are tying themselves up in knots between orgasms, but by god does he do it. something about his hips... something about the way he bows his head to your shoulder, grinding long and slow into you, hips pressed flush to hips. his lips brushing against your skin when he groans, his fingers tangling in your hair to pull your head back. you're not sure if you should be jealous of his obvious sexual experience, or just grateful that you get to be on the receiving end of it.

there is, of course, the obvious romantic connotations of it all. you’re not stupid enough to completely ignore it; after all, heats are these romanticised, coming-of-age-esque happenings, the plot of most early 2000 rom-coms and bad pornos. cute omega roommate forgets her suppressants and goes into heat! real alpha-omega love-making guaranteed!

but its not like that, because hanta is hanta and you are you. you’re like sharkboy and lavagirl. or fireboy and watergirl. whichever pairing fits the dynamic better — you’ve always been the hothead between you two.

“that’s a really shitty idea,” a friend warns you. she’d caught you with your scarf undone, baring the hickies that hanta had left on you to the world — an embarrassing result of the occasional non-heat trysts you’d find yourself caught up in. you couldn’t even blame the heat hormones for the way you’d almost mauled him, but a girl simply has needs! “i’m telling you, casual heat sex never works. trust me.”

but it works for you and hanta, right? because no matter how much you fight, how much you disagree, how much you chastise him for putting himself directly in the line of fire — on live tv, no less! — it all melts away in a pile of blankets and pillows. no matter how deep his cock drives in you, no matter how his teeth scrape your scent glands and have your toes curling against his back, it all ends up the same — slumped in front of the tv, lazily lounging on your phone while he boots up his nintendo 64 to kick ganondorf’s ass for the billionth time.

(and it doesn’t matter that sero isn’t seeing anyone else — it doesn’t matter that he’s deleted his dating apps, or that you keep the pillow he sleeps on when he comes over so that you can scent it when he’s gone. it doesn’t matter that he reminds you to take your anxiety meds — you know, omegas are 44% more likely to have GAD than the average person? — or that he remembers how you take your tea, coffee, and pho. these are things you’d do with any friend, of course.)

it’s cute. casual. not at all romantic, so surely you shouldn’t think twice about leaving a toothbrush at his place. and what harm could a set of pyjamas do? and you could always do with an extra pair of socks, and your skincare, and perhaps an extra phone charger…?

[year2000electronics]

BILL CIPHER IS STILL AN ADULT.

Book of Bill spoilers below (and the answer as to why I would even be saying this):

So one of the pages in the Book of Bill has been slightly contentious in the fandom, I’ve noticed. Some people have taken the “fact” on this page and run with it.

Now, obviously people who were already imagining him as such kinda took this and ran with it, as they were want to do, but I’ve seen other people who are just taking this statement as “canon confirmation” and as someone who’s seen TikTok run itself weary with fake discourse about character ages because “I looked it up and Google said [character] was 15”, we’ve gotta nip that in the bud.

1: IT’S A JOKE.

The rest of the interview has similarly misleading answers. The whole gag here is that he’s not being truthful. When the question implies he doesn’t know how to wear pants, he says “I resent that!” and shows a picture of him wearing pants wrong. When it asks him for anything to ‘plug’, he uses the wrong meaning of the word on purpose.

Even the structure of the question is based on a common joke trope. To give an example, a viral post on Tumblr has a photo of Barbie in a kitchen with a decapitated Ken in her fridge and the entire reblog chain is full of people going “OH MY GOD, BARBIE! …You seriously left raw meat to sit on your cutting board? The juices will seep into it!” You know, expressing a sentiment of outrage and then completely whiffing on what you’re “supposed” to be outraged about. That’s even why Bill states his age before he claims he’s a “preteen”. This is clearly meant to be a sort of sarcastic response to the question, not a sincere one.

2. BILL IS FREQUENTLY DEPICTED PARTICIPATING IN “ADULT” ACTIVITIES.

Let the record show that obviously you can do things like drink at a young age, it’s not as if Bill is some saint so he could be underage drinking, but I’m thinking of this in terms of what we as readers/watchers are shown. And typically, these actions are associated with adults.

First of all, Bill is depicted as being served alcohol at a professional establishment, drinking in private with Ford, and driving, as well as being right next to Pyronica while she flashes someone.

Second of all, multiple references to Bill using sexually-evocative language and even claiming to have banged your mom are present both in the book and other supplementary material (his Reddit AMA). I wholeheartedly believe Alex Hirsch and the crew would not be enthusiastically using charged language directed to a mostly-adult audience (The book has a ‘for older readers’ disclaimer!) which would specifically be read as coming from/being about a preteen.

I’ll call this 2.5 but regardless of how you read Bill and Ford’s dynamic in the book, Mabel still refers to Bill as being like ‘a needy ex’ and to ‘go crush on someone else’s uncle’. Even if that’s just Mabel’s read on it, it would be weird to make that joke about a “minor” and an adult!

TLDR: Bill Cipher is an adult, anyone taking a one-off gag, ignoring the other evidence against it, and using it as an excuse to harass people or claim anything about relationship dynamics that simply isn’t true is being obtuse and misleading on purpose, and it’s fine if you want to headcanon that he’s a minor, just please don’t push it on other peoples’ canon or try to imply that it’s something that’s been confirmed at all.

[eetherealgoddess]

Before you continue, this ends dark as hell so I’m gonna warn you rn!!! Hope you like it anyway! ♡︎♡︎

ꨄEscaping Bonten is for Scrapsꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Bonten/Assassin Au

❦You are an assassin that’s after a target Bonten already has their paws on❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Escaping Bonten is for Scraps

You eye around the busy nightclub, pushing through the crowd as you search for your assigned target. Eyebrows furrowed as your nose scrunches at the thick tobacco smell mixed with alcohol and a variety of cologne and perfume.

“Where is this guy?” You hiss, shoving a drunk person to the side as you head to the back of the building. Once you push the doors open, you see the tall staircase, sighing before stepping on.

Why did I have to get assigned to a club?

It’s not that you were against the party scene, it’s just not ideal for a mission to find someone you need to kill. Your boss chose you for the assignment created by a bitter divorcee. You roll your eyes as you remember the file stating, “Please murder my cheating ex husband.” Of course, your company is underground and perfect for not being caught, though why risk going to prison over a cheating spouse?

Fortunately, this should be fairly quick. The soon to be deceased spouse is known for his drinking habit, speaking belligerently as he drunkenly walks from bar to bar which makes him an easy target. You followed him here, his third club of the night. You couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him considering he is just minding his business and drinking on his lonesome. Sure, he’s bitter as well and is a slob but it’s probably just a down point in his life.

At least I’ll put him out of his misery.

Once you reach the top of the staircase, noticing that the whole floor is empty, you pull your gun out, readying it to use. You hold it down to your side as you walk from room to room, searching for your victim. When you see that the whole upper stairs is empty, you hide your gun, and walk towards the exit of the room you just entered. Your eyes widened when you heard a scream coming from behind you.

You turn around and quickly move to the window, squatting, hiding yourself behind the wall so the people outside couldn’t see you. Easing your head up, you peeked to the outside. Standing at the back of the building, a group of men in suits hover around a kneeling man who’s covering his head as one of the men slams his foot against his side, causing him to fall over. You notice a smaller man who stood in the middle of the suited men walk closer to the male on the ground.

Your eyebrows raise when the man is forced to put his arms down as the shorter man crouches in front of him, realizing the guy is your target.

“What did this guy get himself into?” You whisper to yourself before moving quickly to crack the window so you can decipher what’s occurring.

“You owe us a lot of money, Nakamura.” A man with two blonde strands says, his wide eyes staring deeply at the victim.

“I-I know! I’m going th-through a divorce. I j-just need more time!” He coughs out blood in between his words. The short man in front of him leans in.

“You’ve wasted my time.” He stands up before moving back, motioning for the purple haired man holding the baton to walk forward.

He swings his arms back before slamming them down with a smirk on his face. He repeatedly hits the man over and over again with so much force that blood splatters on his own suit. The man cries out in pain as he becomes light headed.

You wince as you watch this painful sight.

Damn, now I’m feeling even more bad for this guy. I think I’m just going to go ahead and shoot him. Help him out, forreal.

Standing up completely, you aim at the man’s head perfectly with the gun. Without needing the other guy to stop beating him, you pull the trigger, a shot ringing out loudly. The bullet penetrates his head, killing him on the spot. The men, startled, looked around their surroundings as the pink haired man turned to the window, his blue eyes catching yours before you turned on your heel and ran.

“Fuck, he saw me!” You hiss as you run down the stairs, gun hidden as you push through the crowd.

Fortunately, it looks as though you all are into some shady business, though that doesn’t mean you want to catch their attention. You run out of the exit and rush to your car parked at the side of the building.

“Shit, shit, shit!” You rush to unlock the car before hopping in. Before you could close the door, a hand blocks the door. Your wide eyes meet purple orbs before you're pulled out of the car by your shirt. Before you could grab your gun, your front is forced against the car as your gun is grabbed and aimed at your head. The man with the purple mullet holds your arms behind your back with one hand. Before you could say anything, the butt of the gun meets your head, darkness engulfing your vision.

When you first wake up, your eyes meet a dimly lit warehouse, a throbbing pain at the side of your head causes you to pull against the restraints you didn’t know were there to touch your head. Groaning your eyes, the rope strategically tied around your ankles strapping you to the chair.

“Damn.” You breathe out. The click of a gun sounded next to your head causing you to make eye contact with the blue-eyed man you saw before.

“You’re an assassin working for an underground company, right Y/n?” You look up to see the short man sitting on a chair in front of you at a distance. The men stood around him, eyeing you.

“Who am I answering to?” You question, resulting in the gun being pushed against your head harder causing you to wince, the spot where you were once hit feeling raw under the barrel of the weapon.

“I don’t repeat myself.” The sunken eyed man states, his white hair hovering over his face.

“Yes.” You spit out, frustration being the only emotion to decipher at the moment.

“You work for Bonten.” You gasp at the familiar name.

“What the hell are you talking about?” The gun smacks against your face, forcing your head to lean to the side as you squeeze your eyes shut in pain.

“Watch your mouth.” The pink haired man growls, using one hand to force your head back in place before replacing the barrel in the same spot.

“You will keep your assassin title and you will work under the executives.” Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Or what?” You hiss. The pale man signals for the taller short haired man to walk towards you holding his baton. He smiles before pulling it back and slamming it against your stomach. You lean forward before coughing out blood.

“You die.” Your new boss states.

A few months pass before you’re completely used to the yakuza scene. There are times when you wonder what exactly did they see in you to ‘hire’ you as an assassin working under the executives. It wasn’t a hard job, basically like the one you were used to besides the power dynamic. Although you worked under an old boss, he treated everyone equally and you had normal coworkers who you’d go out to the bars with occasionally. You were free to live your own life as long as you didn’t get caught.

Working under Bonten, you weren’t allowed the same freedom as your executives. Your job title was assassin but considering their low respect for you, sometimes you were a maid, assistant, butler, etc. At least that’s what it felt like when you had to run errands for them that didn’t involve shooting a bullet in someone’s head. Sure it’s nicer than killing but who wants to work to serve a bunch of disrespectful men?

Not to mention, you weren’t allowed outside without being accompanied by one of the executives. Of course, the executives you wouldn’t mind being around such as Mochi, Kakucho, Koko, and Takeomi weren’t the ones who accompanied you. It was always the Haitani brothers, Kazutora, or Sanzu. Even when you’re supposed to be off the clock you were always around at least one of them. You no longer have your own apartment and have to stay in a designated room in a penthouse that holds all of your rooms, though everyone else owns their own homes.

Currently, you are sitting in the vip section of one of the Haitani brother’s clubs, arms crossed along with your leg as you lean back on the couch. Kazutora plops next to you with a drink in hand along with one of the strippers in the other, her bare breasts out as she holds onto him.

“You don’t look so happy, Y/n. Should we have taken you to a male strip club?” He taunts, finding amusement in her pouty face.

“I’m glad you find humor in my suffering. I just want to go to bed.” You respond.

A dip on your other side causes you to turn your head to meet Sanzu who has a speck of white dust under his nose. He wipes using his sleeve before handing you a cup of alcohol.

“Live a little, yeah?” You raise a brow as you push the drink away. You had to admit how interesting it was to see the different contrasts between the infamous mad dog. One minute he’s all serious for ‘his king’ and the next he’s sniffing angel’s dust off of a stripper's ass. Interesting indeed.

“I don’t know what you put in that.” You state before turning away from him.

“Then take this. It’s just champagne.” Rin smirks as he hands you another glass from a separate chair, man spreading as he smokes a blunt.

“And I should trust you, why?” You roll your eyes before standing up.

“Where are you off to?” Ran asks as his hand grips the butt cheek of the stripper sucking his neck.

“Bathroom.” You state before walking out. You eye the guards before heading to the restroom.

You walk to the sink and lean over, staring at yourself in the mirror as you think your life over and what brought you to this point. You swiftly turn your head when someone walks into the bathroom. You notice the woman is wearing a poorly done wig with a coat on. You contemplate whether or not you should knock her out and disguise yourself so you can make a run for it.

My morals have always been skewed anyway. I’m sorry lady.

Before she could walk into the stall, you grab her and press her pressure point, catching her before she falls. You undo her coat and set the purse on the ground, lying her head on it gently before pulling her wig off. Setting the wig on as well as the coat, you walk out of the bathroom.

You walk at a steady pace to look anything but suspicious while keeping your head down. When you successfully pass the guards you make a run for it, rushing out of the club and finding a taxi to pick you up, throwing your phone out of the window for safety from a tracking device.

Your adrenaline pumps as the hairs on your body stand. You breathe heavily as you give the taxi man the direction to your old company’s headquarters. When you got there, you ran into the building in search of your boss. When you find his office, you push the doors open and run towards the man who looks at you with shock.

A year passes and he helps you back on your feet. Staying as an assassin would have been dangerous considering the first place Bonten searched for you was the headquarters. Fortunately, he has a family who owns different businesses so you currently work at a bakery on the farthest side of a city hours away from where you used to reside.

One night, you were cleaning up the floors, closing the store. You had already locked the door so you were confused when you heard someone entering the building. Looking up, you dropped the broom when you recognized Mikey standing in front of the door with a gun pointed at you. Before you could move, a hand wrapped around your mouth as someone grabbed your arms, pulling you against a chest. You struggle in their hold.

Your eyes widen when you see your boss and his family consisting of his wife, two of their adult children, and one child being dragged in wrapped in rope and bags over their heads. You scream against the hand.

“Relax and everything will go smoother.” The voice she recognized as Kazutora states behind her.

Once the other men force everyone on their knees in front of her, they pull the bags off their heads.

She screams once more when she makes eye contact with all of them, tears running down her face for the first time at the face of death.

No they can’t do this! This can’t be happening!

Complying to Mikey’s order, Kazutora removes his hand from her mouth as he locks arms with hers. She pulls against him as she tries to release herself, to no avail. The Haitani brothers watch in amusement as they stand behind the two adult kids. Sanzu stands behind the child as Mikey moves to stand behind the boss.

“This is your fault.” He says to you, glaring before he sets his gun to the man’s head. The child cries along with the mother and the children. The man’s eyes are wide as he looks to the side in the direction of his family. They were prevented from talking, mouths bound shut as they squeal and groan.

“Mikey! M-Mikey please don’t do this! I-I’ll stay this time I swear to god! Please… just kill me or something d-don’t take it out on them!” You cry out, devastated by the display as the guilt takes over.

“Sanzu.” He states. Everyone watches as he sets the barrel of the gun on the child’s head, pulling the trigger before anyone could think. There was a pause as the shot rang out, the blood and brains splattering against his siblings, the wall, and the floor.

“STOP! NO MORE!” You let out a blood curdling scream. You pull and pull against Kazutora as he grips you tighter.

Your boss wails against his restraints angrily, falling over when he attempts to stand up, lying pitifully on his side as he kicks his feet and pulls against the rope. The wife and their children cry out, tears dropping fast as they squeeze their eyes shut.

“Haitanis.”

“NO! NO MIKE-!” The shots rang out, more blood and brains splattering as their limp bodies fall to the ground, one sibling with half of their head gone as well as the other along with an eyeball, their blood reaching their mother as she completely bends over and cries.

Mikey aims at the wife shooting her twice before her limp body falls, the husband still as he weeps for his deceased family. Kazutora allows you to drop to your knees. Hands placed on the ground as you become light headed. Finally, vomit shoots up your throat as you release the contents on the ground. Gagging and belching as your body shakes, wet with sweat.

This must be my karma for all of the wrong doings. This must be how people feel when they see their loved ones die.

“I-I’m so sorry, Akihiko. I’m so fucking sorry.” You whine out, tears and snot falling as you become a wreck. He looks at you with despair.

“Please, escape the-!” Before he could finish his sentence, Mikey had already blown his brains out.

You gaze at the messy floor with a blurry vision and wide eyes. Footsteps stop in front of you, missing the vomit. Mikey crouches down and pulls you by the chin to look up at him, gun still in the other hand.

“If you try to leave again, I’ll blow your legs off.”