#glass igloo

[colorpalettebyrm]

#504339 #ae5b14 #2a5372 #9a7756 #7495ac #90cbf2 #d8e0e0 #636a74 #1b171f #e1b155

[shoku-and-awe]

Is it hard to see in the bright afternoon sun? Yes. Is it crucial to find the single sunniest spot in the whole apartment and sit facing directly into the sun? Also yes.

[zarabella73]

Lapland, Finland

[pilvimarja]

Aww Safia Nygaard (aka my favorite Youtuber) and her husband visited Finland as part of their Nordic trip series 🥰

[suzypfonne]

Crowley, picking fruit off a tartlette: Angel, is this a date?

Aziraphale: No, it's a fig.

Crowley: *grumble*

Aziraphale, with a sly smile: They're quite easy to tell apart, my dear. A fig is the edible fruit of Ficus carica. *nodding* A species of small tree in the flowering plant family Moraceae.

Crowley, unamused: Oh.

Aziraphale, beaming: And a date is what we'll be on tomorrow. I thought we might ✨pop up✨ to see the Northern Lights. There's a little resort there that has lovely little glass igloos so one can view the lights from bed. I hear they're very romantic.

Crowley, blushing: Hgnnnnk. Sounds good, angel.

Crowley and Aziraphale

[hotelbooking]

Arctic SnowHotel & Glass Igloos Arctic SnowHotel & Glass Igloos offers a range of entertainment facilities that are sure to delight and captivate guests. After a long day of exploring the stunning Finnish landscapes, unwind at the hotel's cozy bar, where you can enjoy a refreshing drink or indulge in a selection of delicious snacks. The bar provides a warm and inviting atmosphere, perfect for socializing and meeting fellow travelers. For a truly rejuvenating experience, guests can take advantage of the hotel's hot tub and sauna facilities. Immerse yourself in the soothing warmth of the hot tub, allowing the bubbling water to melt away any stress or tension. Alternatively, step into the traditional Finnish sauna and let the heat envelop your body, promoting relaxation and detoxification. To further enhance your well-being, Arctic SnowHotel & Glass Igloos also offers a spa where you can indulge in a variety of treatments and massages. Pamper yourself with a rejuvenating facial or unwind...

[pedulum-chronometry]

So far I don’t think I’ve seen anyone talking about this…. But Niko is implied to be Sedna come onto land for a mortal life or maybe some sort of physical incarnation of her.

Like at first I thought it was just a narrative parallel, you know, both the young girls with recently dead fathers but that igloo scene at the very end just smashed me over the head. She isn’t like her; she is her.

I went back to rewatch some scenes for reasons and guess who is inexplicably afraid of the stormy weather? Guess who avoids the father murdering his daughter case after learning he likely chopped them to pieces? Guess who observes Mick the walrus looking for sea glass after easily finding the red glass needed to find the washerwoman? Guess who spend the entire series wearing fingerless fucking gloves?

Even the story of Sedna- told through monochrome!? like a certain other monochromatic character- shows a dark haired girl become a white haired goddess. I just….

And her mom also might be the 002 boss woman we see give the boys an exception at the end?? She has such a reaction to her name, she can’t NOT know Niko. And at the end we see the dandelion sprites in the igloo no longer needing a jar to contain them. We see FULL gloves on the monochromatically dressed igloo occupant holding the good luck charm that Niko dies with? Like if she isn’t Sedna then she sure as shit won her favor somehow

TLDR me RN:

[barefoot-joker]

Snake in the Garden Pt 2~Yandere!Lucifer X Reader

Hello, everybody! And welcome to part 2 of Snake in the Garden! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter and I can't wait to see what you guys think. There will be a couple more parts after this one, so be on the lookout! At the end I will have a taglist of people. If you would like to be added, don't hesitate to comment. Again, I'm sorry if Lucifer is OOC. I tried my best. As always, I hope you enjoy and have a great day/night!

Words: 2877

Warnings: Swearing, Mental Breakdown, Forced Companionship, Possessive Tendencies, Ignoring One's Wishes

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

I sighed as I shifted in the large King sized bed. It was quite comfortable with red silk sheets, fuzzy blankets and so many pillows one could almost make an igloo. While the mattress was quite huge, I wasn’t given much room to move. Currently His Majesty had his inky black arms wrapped around my waist and his legs tangled with mine. The heat of his breath and body felt hotter than the fires of Hell. I tried to shift again but he just cuddled closer. “Just five more minutes, darling.”

“Please, Lucifer-”

“I love it when you say my name,” he purred.

“I really need to go to the bathroom. I promise I’ll come right back.”

He hummed and I shuddered as his claws lightly tapped at my hip. “I suppose I can allow it. But do be quick, I’ll miss you.”

His grip loosened and I was quick to sit up. Fast walking to the bathroom, I shut and locked the door behind me. While there was no doubt in my mind he could use some magic to open the door if he wanted to, the lock soothed some sense of protection in me. A sigh of relief escaped me as I sat on the toilet and let my hands run down my face. I didn’t really need to use the bathroom, it was just a lame excuse to get away for a few minutes. After all, it had only been a few hours since I found out my little Red was actually the Devil himself and I was being ushered into the role of Queen of Hell. I shook my head as I tried to get rid of the look of adoration he held in his eyes throughout the night. It was frightening. Silently, I played with the hem of my favorite color nightgown as I tried to think of a way out of this. 

It’s not like I could kill him. He seemed pretty agile on his feet and with magic on his side he’d be able to stop a fatal blow.

Leaving wasn’t an option either. There was palace staff everywhere, little demons with suits waiting for their master’s beck and call. The property was guarded by David and Goliath as well. Besides, I didn’t really know the layout of the castle and would just be going in blind, despite the elaborate tour I had gotten.

The final thought was to play into his game, make him believe I was in love with him. I mentally gagged. Not only did I think I wouldn’t be able to handle pretending to be a fan of his courtship, I feel he would be able to sniff out my intentions right away. He was an ancient being of many eons after all and he had a previous wife.

I looked up from my thoughts and gazed at the Victorian stained glass window in front of me. The window was able to be pulled apart in the middle as there was a latch on either side. Hold on a minute.

I got up and stalked over, undoing the golden latch quietly. Looking down, I gulped at how high up we were. The dead grass seemed miles away. Perhaps if I got a rope of some sort I’d be able to climb out? 

“Darling, are you almost done in there? It’s getting quite lonely out here.”

“C-coming!”

I quickly closed the window, flushed the toilet, and turned on the sink. Can’t have him believing I was a liar already. A few seconds later I shut off the sink and unlocked the door. Opening it, I could see Lucifer’s gaze shift towards me and a smile peeled at his lips. He patted the empty side of the bed so I slowly walked over. I peeled back the thin black curtain that surrounded the four poster bed and sat. His claws slid across the blankets and planted themselves on my thigh, his thumb rubbing the flesh tenderly. “I’ve canceled all my meetings for the day to help try and get you more situated, dear. Doesn’t that sound lovely?”

“I suppose.”

I turned my head to glance at the blankets, my fingers drawing patterns being more entertaining. Suddenly a knock at the door had us both looking towards it. “Sire, breakfast is ready.”

“Thank you. We’ll be down in a few.”

“Of course, Sire.”

I heard little footsteps scurry away. “I guess that’s our cue to get up.”

He pulled back the blankets and I blushed upon seeing him shirtless and with boxers that had apples all over. I had forgotten that’s how he went to bed. He slipped past me and headed to a dark oak wardrobe across from the bed and opened it. Lucifer shifted through the various clothes before deciding on something. He brought out two hangers and laid them on the bed. One was the white suit that he wore yesterday and the other was a lacy white blouse, velvety green skirt and black boots. “I’ll admit I don’t have many options for you to wear as of right now. We’ll have to go shopping together sometime soon. I hope this will suffice for now.”

“It’s fine, thank you.”

I slid off the bed, grabbed my clothes and headed into the bathroom. I locked the door and began to strip. It took me a few minutes to do up the buttons on the blouse but once I was done I walked back into the bedroom. Lucifer was just putting on his boots while I draped my nightgown over the back of a chair. “Well don’t you just look enchanting, my dear.”

“Always the charmer, aren’t you?” “I’m just stating the truth.”

He leaned over and gave my cheek a kiss. I just huffed. “Shall we go?”

I nodded. Interlocking our arms together, Lucifer led the way to the dining room. It was quite the grand room with a chandelier hanging above the large table. The blonde pulled out my chair for me and scooted it in once I had sat. He placed himself across from me and as soon as we were situated a few castle staff came out. They placed a mug in front of each of us, a dark roast coffee smell emitting from it. Plates were put on the table as well. A couple of eggs, sausage and bacon were put in the form of a happy face, something I’m sure Lucifer had a hand in. Breakfast was quiet as the King looked over his newspaper and I poked at my food. From what I ate it was quite good, just uncomfortable with those red eyes gazing at me every once in a while. 

When the table was cleared, the two of us walked towards the Devil’s workshop. Lucifer gently pushed me into a black high backed chair as he sat on a stool on a podium. I looked at all the rubber ducks that filled the various containers spread throughout the room wondering why. Why rubber ducks? Why so many?

“I hope you don’t mind me working on my latest creation, dearest.”

“Not at all. But, um, what am I supposed to do?”

“Ah, how foolish of me! Here you are.”

A book materialized on the table in front of me and I realized it was one of my favorites. “I hope that is alright.”

I nodded and flipped it open. For a few hours our time was spent like this: him working on his latest invention and I reading. A little bit in I became a bit restless. I placed my book down and gazed around the small room. Besides the rubber ducks and table I sat at, there were other various knick knacks on bookshelves, tools hanging on the walls and some framed photos. The photos had the same three people in them: Lucifer, a beautiful blonde woman and a young blonde girl. Could that be his wife and daughter he mentioned before? “And, done!”

Lucifer spun on his stool to face me and proudly held out his creation. It was a yellow rubber duck with red music notes painted all over it. “How…interesting.”

He stood and placed the duck in my hands. “I know it may look normal, but this is no ordinary duck. Here,” he squeezed the wings and suddenly music came spilling from its beak. 

It was a romantic tune, one I didn’t recognize but sounded familiar. It sounded like a song I’d hear play from the church I’d walk past every day. “It’s music from my birth place. The tune was often played at our festivities and it just reminded me of you.”

“Well, thank you, I guess.”

I sat the duck down on the table and sighed. There he goes with the romantic gestures again. “Is it not to your liking, my love?”

“No, it's just…nevermind.”

I could feel his hands wrap around my shoulders and I tensed. “What’s wrong, Y/n? You’ve been off all day.”

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Of course! Anything in my power is yours for the asking, you just name it!”

“I want to go home. My actual home on Earth. I, I don’t belong here, Lucifer.”

I could feel tears in my eyes as I gazed down at my hands in my lap. The hands on my shoulders squoze. “You know I can’t do that, sweetie. Your place is by my side here in Hell.”

I clenched my hands and bit my lip. Anger started to slowly rise within me. I stood fast, Lucifer’s hands flying off my shoulders. “How can you decide where I belong? You’re not my father nor are you my husband. Can’t you see how much I hate it here? How much I hate you?!”

His eyes widened and I rushed out of the room. I heard him call for me but I just ignored it. Tears fell down my cheeks as I let my legs carry me throughout the palace till I reached the outside. I fell to the ground near a hand carved stone bench and let my feelings out. I truly didn’t want to be courted by the Devil and no way did I want to remain in my own personal hell. Why couldn’t things be back to normal where I could tend to my garden and have Red join me? Red, that damn snake. Why did he have to come into my life? If only I hadn’t let my kind nature tend to him, then perhaps I’d still be home. “Damn him! DAMN HIM!”

I slammed my hands on the bench and continued to cry. It felt like an eternity till all my crying had ceased and I took the time to look around. That’s when I noticed something in the overgrowth surrounding the fence on the property. I stood and made my way over, pulling at the wiry, thorny brush. My eyes widened as I saw a hole in the fence. Could this be a sign from God? Was he giving me a way out? I looked back at the palace and then back to the fence. As much as I wanted to leave now I knew it wouldn’t be a good idea. Lucifer was no doubt looking for me and leaving would only heighten his upset emotions. I’ll just have to keep this in mind.

I moved the brush back to how it was originally and stepped away, just in time too. One of the servants came out from the glass doors and headed towards me. “Miss Y/n, His Majesty has been looking all over for you! He’s been worried sick!”

I didn’t say anything as he gently grabbed my hand, dragging me inside. “Come along. He’ll be glad to see you in one piece.”

The next few days Lucifer and I spent walking on eggshells around each other. There was an awkward air about us as we went about our days. I suppose my outburst was the cause of it. Even with our hesitation, the demon did his best to court me. Meals were spent in each other’s presence at close proximity, gifts of flowers, rubber ducks and long walks around the property were fairly common, and intimacy was at an all time high. Lucifer had to have his hands on me at all times and kisses on the cheeks and forehead happened at every turn. It was about a week later that His Majesty decided it was time we went out into the city. One of the servants drove us in and the ride over I was given some guidelines. “You are to stay by my side at all times. Pentagram City is quite the dangerous place. If somebody gets too close, I will deal with it personally. Anybody that talks to you will go through me and please dear, don’t hesitate to have fun.”

I’ll try with the short leash you have on me.

The car stopped and Lucifer and I got out. He stooped to the window and whispered something to the driver before coming to my side. Interlocking our arms, we began our walk. “I thought some fresh air away from home would do us both some good, my darling. Besides, this will give us a chance to look for some clothes for you.”

I nodded. As we walked down the sidewalk I could feel a dozen stares pointed in our direction, whispers about our presence floating amongst the civilians. Lucifer didn’t seem to mind but with all the gawking I felt a bit shy. As we passed by an ornate window display, he stopped suddenly. “This seems right up your alley, sweetie.”

He pulled us inside the store. We stood at the entryway and I couldn’t help but gaze at the various clothes. It seemed this shop was more on the posh end, with skirts, dresses and fancy blouses decorating the mannequins. The store itself was a bit busy as customers wandered, but as soon as we entered all eyes were on us. I did my best to shrink into myself while Lucifer puffed out his chest in pride. “Your Majesty, welcome! How grand of you to grace us with your presence! How can we help you today,” asked a female imp in black clothes. 

“My darling here is lacking a wardrobe at home, so I thought it fit to come and look around.”

The woman looked me up and down and smiled. “I’m sure we can find something for your sweetheart. If you’d like to follow me please we can start looking at some pieces.”

I looked to the short man beside me and he just nodded in her direction. “Don’t be shy, dear.”

The two of us followed along as the imp pointed out some options, Lucifer stating his opinion on each one. When we had grown quite the collection, we were led to the fitting rooms in the back. The King perched himself on a plush bench as I stepped into one of the smaller rooms. As I was getting dressed, I heard a phone going off. The circus ringtone rang throughout the store until it stopped when the person picked up. “Charlie, sweetie, how are you?”

I stopped upon hearing Lucifer’s voice. “That’s great to hear. You and Maggie had a good date the other night? Wonderful. How have things at the hotel been? Any recent sinners looking to be redeemed?”

Redeemed? I scooted closer to the curtain to listen in. “I see. Heaven is giving you a hard time, eh?”

Heaven? “What am I up to? Oh your old man is just taking a stroll through town. Listen Charlie, I am quite busy at the moment. How about I give you a call later, okay? Alright sounds good. Buh bye. How’s it going in there, Y/n?”

I stepped out and a smirk rested itself on his face. “My, my. Don’t you look lovely. You know, if we were back at home I don’t think I could hold myself back from ravishing you.”

I felt a shudder go up my spine. Gross!

“I like that blouse on you. It brings out your eyes very nicely. How about trying some more on for dear ole Luci?”

“O-okay.”

I slammed the curtain shut and let myself gag at what he had said earlier. How very forward of him. Now about this hotel…maybe this could be my ticket out of here. 

“Lucifer?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Who was that on the phone?”

“Oh, that was my daughter Charlie!”

“I thought you said you didn’t have a great relationship with her?”

“I don’t, but we’re working on it. I’m helping her with her little passion project.”

“Oh? And what’s that?” Gotcha.

“The Hazbin Hotel. She believes she can solve Hell’s population problem by getting sinners redeemed into Heaven. I honestly don’t see the point, but if helping brings us closer together then I’ll be there for her.”

“I see.” Perhaps if I went the Princess of Hell could get me back to Earth!

After I had tried everything on, we went to the checkout counter and bought a few pieces. I carried the bags back to the car and the whole time I brewed up a plan on how to escape.

~~~~

TAGLIST

@ladymothbeth @cosmic-spider @l0vedoe @stormz369 @strawberry-gothic @repostingmyfavs

[thebunnednun]

"EAT YER SOUP!" part.2

Pairing: Aged up!ProHero!Husband!Katsuki Bakugou x Pro hero!Wife!Reader

Warning: MDNI!!! Extreme Flirting , Wc: Long like his truama+, No ageless blogs!

Synopsis: A snowball fight escalates into a dramatic battle for the icy throne between the, "Snow Empress," and the, "Demon King," of class 1a and ending with you becoming sick and Katsuki taking care of his sweet little Wife.

Tons of romantic flirting, promises of fun and sexy times awaits. Reader has a quirk.

Ya like Jane Austen? You'll love this.

Part 2 of 2.

“Gotcha, Empress!” 

Katsuki purrs as he yanks you out of the tube.

You barely have time to register what’s happening before instinct takes over. 

Twisting in his grasp, you shoot a blast of snow from your palms directly into his face. He stumbles backward with a loud, disgruntled, “FUCK!,” releasing you just enough for you to lose your balance.

You feel the icy structure under your feet slip away, gravity pulling you toward the ground below. But then, just as suddenly, his hand shoots out again—hot, calloused fingers curling around your wrist, yanking you firmly back into his grasp.

“Damn it, lady!” Katsuki grunts, stumbling from the momentum. You both crash down together in a heap of tangled limbs inside the tube, the tight space forcing you into an awkward but oddly secure position.

Your head is tucked against his chest, and you realize with a startled flush that he’s holding you like you’re made of glass. His right hand cradles the back of your head, shielding it from the cold, unyielding surface of the plastic. His legs are splayed out, braced against the sides of the tube to cushion your fall, while his left arm is wrapped snugly around your waist, keeping you steady and close.

For a moment, neither of you says a word, the only sounds are the faint laughter and concerned murmurs of your friends outside, muffled by the igloo walls. It’s quiet in here—warm, even, despite the cold air trapped in the tube.

Then Katsuki shifts slightly, muttering a gruff, “Here.”

You tilt your head, trying to look up at him in the darkness. It’s hard to see much, but you catch a glimpse of something familiar—a flash of cherry red.

Your robe.

He’s got it wrapped around one of his hands, and with surprising gentleness, he drapes it over your shoulders, pulling it snugly around you. You blink, momentarily stunned.

“Is… Is this part of your plan to catch me?”

“Shut up,” he snaps, though there’s no heat in his voice. “You’re gonna get sick running around in your damn underwear like that.” You scoff lightly, though there’s a warmth blooming in your chest that has nothing to do with the robe. “I’m not going to get sick,” you argue. “I’m perfectly fine.”

Katsuki’s grip on you tightens just a fraction. “Yeah, well, ’m not the psycho who stripped down to their socks in the middle of a fight,” he retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm. You grin, unable to resist teasing him.

“Did that bother you?”

His hand slides down to your hip, squeezing the soft spot there that you know he loves. “’s there to bother me?” he counters smoothly, though there’s a dangerous edge of possessiveness in his tone. 

“At the end of the day, yer all mine.”

Your smile softens as you hum quietly, the tension in your body melting away. You dust some stray snow off his shoulder and settle your head more comfortably against his chest, listening to the steady, reassuring thrum of his heartbeat.

“Hmm,” you murmur, snuggling into his warmth despite the awkward position. “So… what do we do now?”

Katsuki’s chest rumbles beneath your cheek as he exhales deeply. His fingers trace idle patterns on your lower back, the gesture so tender.

“We wait,” he says finally, his voice quieter now, almost reluctant. “Wait for you to stop acting like a crazy-ass queen, or wait for me to figure out how to kick your ass in here without breakin’ this damn tube.”

You laugh softly, the sound muffled against his chest. “Or,” you suggest, your tone playful, “We could just call it a truce.”

He snorts, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “A truce? After all that shit talk? Not a chance.”

Despite his words, he doesn’t make a move to push you away, and you don’t make any effort to pull back. Instead, you both lie there, tangled together in the confined space, the world outside forgotten.

It’s so nice. 

The cold bites at your exposed skin, but it feels distant now—an afterthought, dulled by the warmth radiating from Katsuki. His touch is slow and deliberate, his hands heating slightly as they glide across your back, over the curve of your back, and along your arms. The sensation is heavenly, like stepping out of a steaming bath and being wrapped in a freshly-warmed towel, soft and comforting.

He’s done that for you before, countless times, but now it feels different. More intimate. The rough pads of his fingers, usually calloused from years of training, are surprisingly gentle as they trail over your skin, thawing the cold little by little.

You shiver, though not from the chill.

“Stay still, Empress,” Katsuki murmurs, his voice low and smooth, laced with a teasing edge. His warm breath ghosts over the top of your head, carrying the faint but familiar scent of mint and caramel. “Can’t have ya turnin’ into an ice cube on me.”

Before you can respond, you feel his lips press against the crown of your head, soft and lingering. It’s so tender, so unlike the fiery, brash public persona you’ve come to love, that your heart skips a beat.

Then, he tilts your head back, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. His gaze flickers over your face, taking in every detail—your frozen cheeks, your trembling lips, the soft rise and fall of your breath. He leans in and brushes his lips against the tip of your frozen nose, the warmth of his mouth shocking against the cold.

“Such a pain in my ass,” he murmurs in that old tongue, his tone carrying a mix of amusement and affection.

“Running around half-naked, challenging me like you’ve got a chance.”

His words make you bristle, but before you can retort, he kisses your cheek, soft and warm, before trailing his lips down to your jawline. The gentle nips he delivers there make your breath hitch, and you feel the curve of his smirk against your skin.

“But damn, if you’re not the prettiest little thing I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he continues, his voice dropping into a husky whisper as he presses his lips to the sensitive spot beneath your jaw. 

“Even when you’re being a stubborn, reckless brat.”

You scoff, but it comes out weaker than you’d like, especially when his lips skim over the curve of your neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. His hands slide over your shoulders, his thumbs brushing along the bare skin exposed by your earlier stunt.

“You are mine,” he murmurs, his voice soft yet firm, a quiet declaration that sends a shiver down your spine. His breath fans against your collarbone as he plants another kiss there, and you can feel his smirk deepening. 

“Every. Damn. Inch.”

Despite his teasing, there’s a reverence in his touch, a quiet adoration in the way his fingers trace the curve of your shoulder, the line of your neck. He’s worshiping you, in his own Katsuki way—praising you even as he mocks you.

“You really thought you could beat me with this little stunt?” he whispers, his warm lips brushing against the shell of your ear now, his tone equal parts amused and affectionate. 

“Cute.”

You let out a soft huff, trying to maintain your composure despite the way he’s unraveling you with every kiss, every word. “I’m still standing, aren’t I?” you manage, your voice just as curt as his earlier tone.

His chuckle rumbles deep in his chest, vibrating against your skin. “Barely,” he shoots back, his lips finding the curve of your shoulder again. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.”

Katsuki pauses for a moment, his hands stilling on your back as he tilts your head up to meet his gaze. His crimson eyes soften, and for just a moment, the teasing fades, replaced by something deeper, something raw.

“But you’re also a damn idiot,” he mutters, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “I’m supposed to protect you, you know? Even from yourself.”

You blink up at him, stunned by the sudden tenderness in his voice. Before you can respond, he leans down and kisses you again, this time on your lips. It’s not fiery or rushed—it’s slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring the moment. 

Like he’s trying to pour everything he can’t put into words into that one kiss.

When he finally pulls back, his smirk returns, though it’s softer now, less cocky. “There,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into a near whisper. “All warmed up, Princess?”

You hum, leaning into him, your head resting against his chest once more. “For now,” you murmur, feeling his arms tighten around you.

The snow outside may be cold, but here, in his arms, you’ve never felt warmer.

You shift slightly in Katsuki's hold, your cheek pressed against his as his arms remain firmly wrapped around you. He’s warm, almost blazing against the cold, and it’s easy to let yourself sink into the security of his touch. But you’re not done with him yet. He wanted to play games earlier, and so can you.

Tilting your head up, you look at him, your expression softening as you press a cold kiss to the underside of his jaw. He stiffens slightly, the contrast of your chilled lips on his hot skin sending a shiver through him. You smirk at his reaction, your fingers brushing against the back of his neck as you plant another kiss along his jawline, slower this time.

“Why so grumpy, Suki?” you murmur against his skin, your voice low and teasing, just enough to tickle. “You’ve been rough with everyone all day. What’s gotten into you?”

His ruby eyes narrow as he glances down at you, suspicion flickering in his gaze. “Don’t start, Peach,” he warns, though his voice lacks its usual bite. You feign innocence, batting your lashes up at him as you press yourself closer, your fingers trailing along the edge of his collar. 

“Start what?” you ask sweetly, your lips curving into a sly smile. 

“I’m just worried about you, my scary Demon King. You’ve been acting so... mean.”

He snorts, his grip tightening slightly on your waist. “Yer playing dirty,” he mutters, his eyes flickering to your lips before snapping back to your gaze.

“Dirty?” you echo, gasping theatrically as you tilt your head to the side, your cold nose brushing against his cheek. “I’d never. I’m just trying to understand why my handsome grumpy husband has been acting like he’s got a stick up his—”

“Careful,” he growls, cutting you off, but there’s a hint of amusement in his tone now.

You grin, leaning up to whisper against his ear, your lips brushing against the shell. 

“Oh, am I pressing your buttons? How unlike me.”

His breath hitches slightly, but he masks it with a scoff.

“You think yer so funny, don’t you?”

“I think you’re adorable,” you counter, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes, your own sparkling with mischief.

“All this aggressive ‘playtime,’ and for what? Because you don’t know how to talk to your friends?”

That gets a reaction. 

His eyes narrow, and his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt you.

“Let me guess,” you continue, your tone softening as your hand comes up to cup his cheek. “You want their company, but instead of asking like a normal person, you blow up and act like a big scary Demon King. But you’re not, Katsuki. Not really.”

His gaze hardens, but you press on, your thumb brushing against his lips. “Right now, I don’t see some fearsome tyrant ruling over his snowy kingdom. No,” you say, leaning in closer, your voice dropping to a near whisper, 

“I see a man who’s too afraid to ask for what he wants.”

His grip on you falters for a moment, and you can feel the tension in his body as your words sink in. He opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“It’s okay, you know,” you murmur, your lips brushing against his as you speak. “You don’t have to keep shutting everyone out. They’re your friends, Katsuki. They love you. We love you.”

For a moment, he says nothing, his crimson eyes searching yours as if trying to find a way to argue. But instead of snapping back, he lets out a soft, frustrated sigh, his forehead coming to rest against yours.

“Such a pain,” he mutters, his voice rough but quieter now.

You smile, your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“And you love me for it,~” you tease, your voice light.

His lips twitch into a faint smirk, and he leans in, his nose brushing against yours. “Fuck yeah, I do,” he mutters before capturing your lips in a searing kiss, one that melts away the cold and reminds you of the fire that’s always burning in him—passionate, intense, and fiercely loyal.

It’s a kiss that speaks of more than words ever could, and for now, it’s enough to distract you.

“Have either of you won yet?! This is supposed to be a timed competition!”

You both hear Iida’s voice echoing through the training grounds, a mixture of authority and exasperation as he shouts. Katsuki scoffs, his crimson eyes narrowing as he glares at the tube he’s stuck in. “Like hell I’m letting you ruin this,” he growls, his voice dripping with determination. Then his gaze flicks to you. 

“What do you wanna do, huh?” 

You smirk, a spark of mischief flashing across your face.

“I wanna see if you really think you can beat me.”

He barks a short laugh. “Tch, bring it on.”

Nodding, you crawl over him, careful not to get stuck yourself. Once you’re free, you reach down, grabbing onto his arms and tugging as hard as you can. He grits his teeth, curses flying out of his mouth, and with one final heave, there’s a loud pop! as he’s yanked free.

“’Bout damn time!” he snaps, but you’re already sprinting into the darkness, your laughter echoing in the icy air.

“Catch me if ya can, Dynamight!” you call over your shoulder, waving as you vanish into the snow.

Katsuki mutters a string of expletives, his boots crunching as he gives chase. You dive into the snow, letting it swallow you whole as you melt seamlessly into its icy embrace. Watching from your hidden vantage point, you see him searching for you, his eyes scanning the terrain.

Suddenly, you reappear, popping up a few feet in front of him. 

“Hey, want to go for a swim?” you ask with a grin, your hands already glowing faintly.

“What the hell are you—” he starts, but then you flash your hands and a wave of icy energy radiates outward.

The snow around you begins to melt, transforming into water as ice walls rise up, trapping the two of you and a handful of benches. The area quickly fills like a giant tub, the cold breeze coming off the water  enough to make everyone shiver.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” Katsuki yells, his palms already sparking as he blasts at the ice walls, trying to escape. You dart through the water, grabbing onto his boots before he can blast his way out. “Oh no, you don’t!” you laugh, yanking him under.

The two of you wrestle in the frigid water, your punches landing on his chest with satisfying thuds. Of course, his solid frame doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest, which only makes you more determined.

As you’re grappling, the sky above suddenly darkens, heavy clouds rolling in. Snowflakes begin to fall, thick and fast. But this snow… it’s not yours.

“What the…?” you mutter, glancing up.

Katsuki notices too, his expression shifting from irritation to confusion. “What’re you laughin’ about, dumbass?” he growls as you giggle.

“Looks like even nature’s on my side,” you taunt, sticking your tongue out at him. Katsuki’s lips twitch, and then he’s laughing too, a wild, competitive sound that echoes in the icy dome. He raises one gloved hand to cover the left side of his face as he mouths to you,

“I’ma play your ass like the drums when ‘m done!”

He charges at you, but you summon an army of snow creatures, their icy forms springing up around you like loyal soldiers.

“That’s cheating!” he roars, blasting through the nearest snowman with ease.

“Kiss my ass, Kats!~” you shout back, diving under the snow before he can grab you.

The chaos is exhilarating—snow flying everywhere, the water splashing wildly, your classmates shouting from the sidelines as they cheer you on. You’re so caught up in the fun that you don’t notice it at first—the loud, ominous crack that echoes through the arena.

It’s only when Katsuki freezes, his eyes darting to the ice dam behind you, that your stomach drops.

The structure is splintering, fractures snaking across its surface as water begins to seep through. Katsuki’s heat combined with the pressure of the water—it’s all too much.

“Shit,” you breathe, your heart pounding. Katsuki’s eyes lock onto yours, and he yells,

“MOVE!”

But you’re already spinning around, the sound of the ice giving way roaring in your ears as the dam begins to collapse. The massive wave of water surges forward, unstoppable and icy cold, pushing everything out and rushing a wall of ice straight toward you.

Suddenly, a burst of heat slams into your back. Before you can process what’s happening, a strong arm wraps around your waist and pulls you down, just as the dam bursts, water cascading like a tidal wave.

You brace for impact, but instead of icy water swallowing you whole, you feel warmth—familiar and searing—surrounding you. Katsuki is on top of you, shielding your body from the chaos with his own. His heat crackles in the air, steam rising as his explosions counter the freezing onslaught.

“Damn it,” he growls, his voice low and rough, his breath hot against your ear.

“Are you tryin' to get yourself killed, you cracked nut?!”

You open your mouth to retort, but before you can, there’s another surge of heat—this time coming from behind you both. Katsuki rolls the two of you to the side just as a thick, fiery wall erupts, blocking the remaining water. Shoto stands there, his dual quirks in full display, steam curling off his hands as he pushes the wave back with calculated precision.

When the chaos subsides, you find yourself kinda laying on the cold, damp ground, still held Katsuki’s arms. He’s breathing hard, his hair plastered to his forehead, his crimson eyes blazing with frustration and something else.

“You’re insane,” he mutters, his hands still on your waist, as if he’s afraid to let go.

“You’re over reacting,” you shoot back, your voice laced with teasing, even though your heart is racing.

“OVER REACTING?!” His voice rises, and you can see his hands twitch, barely holding back an explosion. 

“Ya almost got us both killed, and you think this is funny?!”

Shoto steps closer, crossing his arms as he surveys the scene. “You two seem to have a habit of turning simple fun into near-death experiences,” he comments dryly, a hint of amusement in his otherwise stoic tone. You glance at him with a grin. 

“It’s called marriage, Sho. Look it up.” You see your brother smile but he tilts his head in that curious way leading you to follow his line of sight to the man pinned underneath you. 

Katsuki is livid.

Not the kind of angry that makes him shout—no, this was the simmering, teeth-gritting kind of fury, the one that burned hotter than his explosions ever could. His chest rose and fell beneath you as his ruby-red eyes locked onto yours. His whole face was flushed—whether from the cold, the embarrassment of you straddling him in front of your classmates, or the adrenaline of saving you, you weren’t entirely sure. But one thing was crystal clear: 

Ya mans is pisssssed!

“You—” His voice was low and guttural, barely above a growl. His hands gripped your waist instinctively, either to steady you or to hold you in place—probably both. 

“You reckless little—”

“You’re welcome,” you cut in smoothly, leaning forward with a grin that you knew would only rile him up further. Your hands braced themselves on his broad shoulders as you tilted your head, feigning innocence. “What? No thank-you for saving your ass from being bored?”

He scoffed, the sound laced with frustration as his fingers dug lightly into your sides. “My ass? You nearly drowned us both, you lunatic!”

“Drowned?” you echoed, laughing softly. “Please. You know water doesn’t bother me, and you wouldn’t drown if you tried. You’re too stubborn to die.”

“Not the point!” he barked, sitting up straighter so that your faces were mere inches apart. “You don’t think—”

“And you are simply thinking too much, Katsuki,” you shot back, pressing a ice cold finger against his cheek, just over the scrape from earlier. 

“See? Perfect balance.”

His jaw clenched as you rubbed the spot absentmindedly, and for a moment, he just stared at you. His hands, still on your waist, twitched as though he was debating whether to shove you off or pull you closer. You could almost see the internal struggle playing out in his head, but before he could make a decision, Iida’s stern voice broke through the charged air.

“Midoriya! Shoji! Someone help me separate these two before they start another battle!”

The cacophony of voices surrounded you as Iida and Shoji rushed over, their hurried steps crunching against the frost-covered ground. Shoto, still exuding heat from his fire quirk, stood a few feet away with an unreadable expression. You and Katsuki sit tangled on the wet ground near the bleachers, your legs straddling over his hips as he tries to simultaneously catch his breath and glare daggers at everything and everyone around him. His crimson eyes darted to you, his cheeks flushed—not just from exertion or the cold but from the mortifyingly public position you’d landed in.

His voice was a low growl, barely audible over the commotion. 

“Get off me, princess.”

But there wasn’t as much heat in his words as there usually was. You smirked, leaning forward just enough to invade his personal space. “But you look so comfy,” you teased, your hands braced against his chest. You could feel his heart pounding beneath your palm, quick and strong. 

“What’s wrong?~ Too flustered to admit I won?”

Before he could spit out one of his scathing remarks, Iida cleared his throat, his voice booming as he declared, “Both participants are officially out of bounds! However—” his hand gestured with the precision of a referee,

“Katsuki’s head crossed the line first, meaning the winner is our Empress!”

The collective cheers from your classmates rose into the frosty air. Izuku clapped his hands, his smile practically glowing. “You did it!” he exclaimed, his excitement infectious as he bounded closer.

Your classmates swarm the scene, a mix of laughter and concern. Mina is practically doubled over, wheezing from laughing too hard. Kirishima pats Shoto on the back, though he looks like he’s trying not to laugh himself.

“Yo, Bakugo,” Kaminari says with a grin, “You good there, man? Looks like she’s got you pinned.”

“Shut your damn mouth, Pikachu!” Katsuki roars, finally shoving you off his lap as he gets to his feet, his entire face red—not from the cold, but pure, unadulterated embarrassment. 

The sound of your friends’ laughter and teasing chants pulls you out of your little bubble. Mina was cackling, Sero was nudging Kaminari and whispering something that made both of them grin, and Shoto stood nearby, arms crossed as Shinsou rested an elbow on him. His expression was as cool as ever, but his raised brow said: ‘Why is this fool touching me?’

“Looks like we’ve got an audience,” you said lightly, smirking as you slid off Katsuki’s lap (pity) and onto the ground beside him. He immediately stood, brushing snow and water from his clothes with a grumble, and shot a glare at anyone brave enough to look his way.

“And what the hell are you all looking at?!” he snapped, his voice sharp enough to send Kaminari and Sero scurrying off to pretend they hadn’t been watching. You stood as well, brushing yourself off and turning to address the group. With a playful grin, you held your hands up.

“Alright, alright, listen up! I’m calling it. Katsuki’s been properly defeated by yours truly!”

“Not a chance,” Katsuki growled, stepping closer so his shoulder brushed against yours. 

“I wasn’t done with you yet.”

“Oh, I think you were,” you tease, glancing up at him with a cheeky smile. “And besides, Iida said your head crossed the line first. Therefore….” You pause for dramatic effect as you push your wet hair from your forehead.

“I win!”

You dust yourself off, standing and giving a dramatic bow to your friends. “And that, my dear friends, is how you win a fight against the mighty Katsuki Bakugou!”

“Win?! Like hell you did!” Katsuki snaps, but his protests are drowned out by the screams and laughter of your friends. The group cheered, and you saw Katsuki’s eye twitch, though he didn’t argue further. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets, his scowl deepening as Izuku approached, beaming.

“Congratulations! That was incredible fighting, though! You two really—”

“Shut it, nerd,” Katsuki muttered, turning away, though his ears were still red. You reached up to give his cheek a teasing pat, earning a glare in return. 

“Aww, don’t be so grumpy, Katsuki. Everyone’s just happy to see their favorite Demon King and Snow Empress putting on such a good show.”

“Keep calling me that, and you’re gonna wish you drowned,” he muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly upward. As the group dispersed, laughing and chatting about the chaos you’d caused, Katsuki leaned closer to you, his voice low enough that only you could hear. 

“Next time, I’m not letting you get away with pulling that shit. Got it?”

You grinned, leaning up on your toes to press a quick, cold kiss to his lips before darting away. 

“We’ll see, Suki. Better luck next time!”

Katsuki grumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like, “Crazy girl,” but when his eyes met yours, he didn’t deny it. Instead, he gave the smallest nod, as if to concede the point—begrudgingly, of course. You stood, brushing the snow from your clothes before holding your hands up to silence the crowd. The cold air bit at your cheeks, but the warmth of victory—and Katsuki’s heated gaze—kept you steady. 

“Alright, alright, listen up!” you called, your voice carrying over the noise. 

“While I know Katsuki’s... ‘methods’ today might have been a little much—”

“A little?” Shinsou interrupted, arching a brow from where he stood near the sidelines. You shot him a warning glare, an ice ball already forming in your hand. 

“Don’t interrupt me, or else I shall make sure you end up in the ice next time,” you said, your tone deceptively sweet.

He wisely shut up, though a faint smirk tugged at his lips. Turning back to the group, you continued, 

“As I was saying, Katsuki just wanted to play with everyone. He’s not the best at showing it—” you glanced at him, and he scoffed, crossing his arms as if to deflect the attention—“But he privately expressed his regrets, and I think if he says he’s sorry, we should all forgive him. After all,” you added with a grin, 

“He did save your Empress from the flood, didn’t he?”

There was a pause before Shoto, standing just behind you, said dryly, 

“I think that’s letting him off easy, dear sister.”

You smiled, glancing over your shoulder at him. “Forgiveness is one of my virtues as your Empress, kind prince. Maybe you should try it.” Before Shoto could respond, Shinsou piped up again. 

“Yeah? Where were those virtues when Katsuki nearly blew Shoto up earlier?”

Without missing a beat, you hurled the ice ball straight at his face, nailing him squarely in the forehead. 

“I warned you not to try me, Hitoshi,” you clipped, your tone light but with enough edge to make him hold his hands up in surrender, albeit with a chuckle. The laughter subsided as your gaze softened. You turned toward Katsuki, instinctively reaching out to brush your fingers over the scrape on his cheek. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before narrowing again, his jaw tightening as he muttered, “I’m fine. Quit fussing.”

But he didn’t pull away.

The moment lingered, the group falling silent as they watched the two of you. Katsuki’s hand hovered near yours for a moment before he dropped it to his lap, clearly uncomfortable with the attention.

“Well?” you prompted, raising a brow at him. “Don’t you have something to say?”

His glare swept over the group, daring anyone to speak before he finally muttered, 

“Tch… Sorry.”

The reaction was immediate—cheers and laughter erupted, your classmates all grinning as they accepted his rare apology. Kirishima clapped him on the back, earning a string of curses in return, while Mina leaned into Sero, whispering loudly about how “cute” the whole thing was.

You grinned, raising your arms in victory. “See? All forgiven!”

Katsuki groaned, burying his face in his scarf. “Yer all idiots, ‘m fucking surrounded,” he muttered, though the faintest of smirks tugged at his lips. And just like that, the chaos returned, laughter and playful banter filling the air once more. Your husband might be grumpy, but you knew Kats wouldn’t have it any other way—

And neither would you.

Sato, Aoyama, and Tokoyami raise their voices dramatically, calling for cheers to echo across the snowy battlefield for, “The Snow Empress.” Your classmates burst into applause, whoops, and laughter as the victorious mood spreads. You wave to your ‘subjects’ with an exaggerated regal flair, their joyous energy lifting the weight of the icy battle you’d just survived.

A soft crown of snow builds itself upon your hair, the delicate flakes kissing your cheeks and remaining in perfect crystalline patterns on the bone. Ice glitters like tiny diamonds along your exposed neck as you fidget, pulling your cherry red robe tighter around your shoulders. The contrast of its vibrant hue against the snowy backdrop makes you appear otherworldly, even as you shift in place, your furry Juicy Couture baby pink boots sinking slightly into the frost beneath you.

You glance over at the bleachers where Shoto had folded your clothes neatly, retrieving them with careful hands. The snow glistens along the hem of your robe as you slip your white leggings back on, followed by the matching white sweater dress of your hero uniform. The soft fabric hugs you, a stark yet elegant complement to the winter wonderland surrounding you.

Katsuki watches, transfixed. His sharp vermillion eyes linger as your fingers tug at the chain tucked beneath your neckline, gently pulling it free. The glint of metal catches the light—your wedding ring. He sees the reverence in the way you slip it on, the tender care with which you give it a few deliberate turns to ensure it won’t accidentally fall off. It’s such a small act, but it anchors him, rooting him to the moment in a way that nothing else could.

You stretch, exhaling softly, and grab your scarf, gingerly wrapping it around your shoulders. The motion feels regal, every bit as graceful as you appear, your figure framed by the gentle cascade of snow. You look every inch a snow empress—fair, kind, just, and breathtakingly beautiful. Katsuki’s chest tightens as he watches you, his queen.

He doesn’t mind the biting cold, the flurry of snowflakes that dust his own hair, or even the distant sound of Class 1-A laughing and shouting as they play nearby. He doesn’t care about whatever apology he’s been made to give—it doesn’t matter, not when you’re here. As long as he has you, he thinks, everything else fades away.

You are his peace.

As everyone returns to playing in the snow, you feel Katsuki’s rough, calloused fingers slip into yours. He wordlessly pulls off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders, the warmth and faint scent of burnt caramel enveloping you. Before you can thank him, he’s already tugging one of his gloves on your hand and adjusts it properly.

“Ya know somethin’,” you say softly, catching his attention. His crimson eyes dart to yours, confused but curious.

“‘Bout what?”

“About you speaking like you do in those romance novels you secretly read,” you tease, leaning closer. “I liked it. You should do it more often.” His ears turn red instantly, and his mouth opens to protest—but then he pauses, narrowing his eyes. 

“…Really?”

“Mhm.”

You smile warmly, your voice dropping to a playful whisper.

“Truely, very sexy. I was so happy you indulged my games.”

Katsuki adjusts his scarf, clearly trying to cover his flustered expression. Without warning, he grabs your ungloved hand, shoves it deep into his warm pants pocket, and pulls you close enough that your noses nearly touch.

“‘Course I did,” he mutters, his voice gruff yet soft. 

“Yer my wife. ‘m supposed to.”

You melt into his warmth, a contented smile spreading across your face as you snuggle against him. The moment feels peaceful—until you feel a gentle tug on your sleeve.

“Would you help me build a snowman?”

Shoto’s calm, steady voice cuts in. Katsuki scowls at him immediately, but before he can bark out a sarcastic retort, you nod, linking your other hand with Shoto’s.

“Of course! Let’s make the best snowman ever!” you declare, already feeling excitement bubbling up.

Shoto and Katsuki exchange a brief glance, and to your surprise, they share a small, almost imperceptible smile. Katsuki shakes his head and mutters something about how ridiculous this all is before letting you go. The three of you join the others, but as you kneel in the snow to start building, a strange sensation ripples through your body. You feel a tickle in your nose, but before you can react—

“Ack!-Achoo!”

A sudden burst of flame shoots out as you sneeze, singeing a patch of snow. At the same moment, Shoto lets out an equally loud sneeze, accidentally summoning a quick hailstorm that pelts everyone nearby. The two of you fall over, blinking rapidly at the chaos you’ve just caused. Kirishima jogs over, concern in his eyes as he asks,

“Are you guys okay?!”

You’re about to laugh it off when a heavy ominous aura rises behind you. Before you can turn around, you’re suddenly hoisted off the ground and tossed over Katsuki’s shoulder like a sack of flour.

“What the hell—?!” you yelp, flailing slightly.

With his other hand, Katsuki grabs the back of Shoto’s collar like he’s reprimanding a naughty puppy. 

“THIS IS THE FUCKING SHIT I TALK ABOUT!” he yells, his voice echoing across the field.

Everyone bursts into laughter, even Shoto, who looks mildly dazed but surprisingly amused. Katsuki stomps away from the group with both of you in tow, ranting the whole way about,

“Fire quirks, Snow quirks, and dumbass pettiness that’ll kill someone one day.”

Through your laughter, you manage to gasp out,

“Katsuki! Put me down!”

“FUCK NO!”

—————

The soft hum of Divorce Court plays in the background as you sit curled up on the couch, surrounded by layers of blankets that feel like a protective cocoon. Beside you, a small trash bin is stuffed with tissues, the evidence of your persistent sneezes and sniffles. Two cups rest within arm’s reach on the side table—one filled with soda, the other with ice water—and the coffee table in front of you is covered with three bowls of chicken noodle soup, one spicy, one mild, and one piping hot. Despite the thoughtful variety, only two of them are fully eaten, the steam long since dissipated.

You yawn softly, snuggling deeper into your blankets, your eyes fluttering shut for just a moment—until a warm, familiar weight wraps around your shoulders. A pair of strong arms encircle you, and a kiss is pressed to the crown of your head, soft but deliberate. 

You know that touch anywhere.

Before you can even lift your head, Katsuki hops clean over the couch, landing next to you with a thud that makes the floor groan.

“I hate when you do that,” you grumble, your voice hoarse from your cold. “Kills the sectional cushions.”

“Yeah? Couch’ll live,” Katsuki mutters, leaning back and pulling you closer to him despite your complaints. His rough hand rubs gentle circles on your legs back through the blankets, his warmth seeping into you as he glances down at the coffee table. His vermillion eyes narrow when he notices your mostly untouched bowl of soup.

The living room glowed with a warm, golden hue, the soft crackle of the fireplace filling the quiet. The walls were adorned with framed photos—snapshots of your wedding day, candid moments from family dinners, and Katsuki’s rare, begrudging smiles caught on camera. 

Plants in mismatched pots thrived on the windowsills and shelves, trailing vines and vibrant leaves spilling into the cozy space. The large sectional couch, well-worn but plush, was draped in layers of soft throws and knitted blankets, a sign of countless movie nights and lazy Sundays. The shelves were cluttered with life—books with broken spines, small trinkets from vacations, and a few All Might figurines Katsuki swore were for ‘inspiration’. It was a home that had been built and filled with love, laughter, (and the occasional shouting match.)

Katsuki sat on his usual cushion, his nose and cheeks still pink from the biting cold he’d endured earlier, the evidence of your storm clinging faintly to his skin. His ash-blond hair was messy from raking his fingers through it too many times, and he was dressed in his usual "at-home" lounge wear, a black tank top that showed off his muscular arms, (fucking tasty as shit), loose sweatpants that hung low on his hips, and mismatched socks—one gray, one with orange stripes. 

So why the fuck he was focused on the bowl was beyond you. 

His expression was torn somewhere between irritation and concern as he stared down at you, buried under what looked like every blanket in the house.

“Ya didn’t eat it?” he asked, his voice gruff but quieter than usual. His crimson eyes flicked to the bowl of soup sitting on the coffee table, steam no longer rising from it. His frown deepened as he picked it up, inspecting it like it had personally betrayed him.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, retreating further under the fortress of blankets. “I just wasn’t in the mood.”

Katsuki clicked his tongue, glaring at the soup as if it held the answers to all your problems. His hands glowed faintly as he warmed the bowl with practiced ease, steam curling up once more as he gave the soup a stir.

“You need to eat somethin’,” he said firmly, scooping up a spoonful and bringing it toward your face.

“Nooo,” you whined, burrowing deeper into the covers. 

“I don’t wanna.”

“Stop bein’ a brat,” he growled, leaning closer and shoving the spoon just inches from your face.

“ ‘m not hungry!” Your voice was muffled, almost petulant, from beneath the layers.

Katsuki let out a long, exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yer impossible.” He muttered under his breath, but his tone lacked any real bite. Still, he didn’t give up. He set the bowl in his lap and tugged at the edge of your blankets, peeling them back just enough to reveal your face. Your cheeks were pale, your lips slightly chapped, and your eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. His gaze softened, and for a moment, he just looked at you.

“Just one bite,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost coaxing. 

“C’mon, I made it just how you like it. For me, yeah?”

You peeked out from the blankets, meeting his crimson eyes. The warmth in his gaze was hard to ignore, but you still shook your head, stubborn to the end. Katsuki’s jaw tightened, his patience hanging by a thread.

“Alright, fine,” he huffed, shifting closer. “I didn’t wanna do this, but yer askin’ for it.” 

He leaned down, brushing his nose lightly against yours, his breath warm on your face. You can see all his pretty freckles up close and you wanna kiss his eyelashes because damn it, the man looks so pretty. But, as if sensing your distraction, Katsuki raises one firm, very warm hand, up your leg, past your inner thighs and tummy, all the way to rest over your heart, the other hand still holding the bowl. 

“Eat yer soup,” he murmured, his tone low, with a hint of something that sent a shiver down your spine. 

“Please.”

You blinked up at him, the sudden shift in his tone making your resolve waver. His lips ghosted over your forehead, a lingering kiss pressing heat into your skin, and then he smirked against your temple.

“C’mon, sweet princess,” he whispered, voice dripping with a mix of affection and mischief. 

“Be good for your king. Just a bite.”

With a dramatic sigh, you finally gave in, parting your lips slightly. Katsuki grinned triumphantly, scooping up a spoonful of soup and gently feeding it to you. The warmth spread through your body instantly, soothing your throat and melting away a sliver of your stubbornness.

“There,” he whispers, his smirk widening. “See? Told ya ’s good,” he mutters, scooping another bite.

You hummed softly, too tired to argue as you leaned into him, and Katsuki couldn’t help the quiet chuckle that escaped him. His queen—stubborn, infuriating, but his. And as long as you were safe and warm in his arms, he didn’t mind one bit.

“You’re so smug,” you tease, but this time, you don’t hide as he brings the spoon to your lips again.

“Damn right I am,” he replies, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before continuing his self-imposed mission of making sure you eat. You look up at Katsuki after swallowing another spoonful of soup, a playful glint in your tired eyes. “So,” you murmur, voice soft but teasing, “Did you have fun today?”

“Tch,” he grunts, leaning back slightly but keeping his legs planted firmly on the floor. 

“I guess.”

You smile at his nonchalant tone, knowing full well he had a good time. “What was your favorite part, then?”

Katsuki’s eyes narrow slightly as he stares at you, but he doesn’t answer right away.

“Oh, I have to guess, huh?” you say with a mock sigh, tapping a finger against your chin dramatically. “Alright, was it the snowball fight? When Kaminari accidentally got a mouthful of slush because of you?”

He shakes his head.

“Okay, then it was when I got crowned the Snow Empress and made my beautiful kingdom?”

Another shake.

“Hmm, what about when we saw Kirishima try to eat one of the icicles and Shoto had to unfreeze his tongue?”

Katsuki snorts but still shakes his head no.

You list off a few more events; Shoto's sneeze hailstorm, your snowmen army, and even your little moment of chaos in the playground tube, but he remains silent, his smirk growing wider with each wrong guess.

“Alright, I give up!” you huff, throwing your hands up in exaggerated defeat.

“What was it?”

Instead of answering, Katsuki reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a small bottle of medicine.

Your eyes go wide, and before he can say a word, you duck back into the blanket fortress. 

“Nope! Not happening!”

“Oi!” Katsuki growls, his patience snapping. “Don’t start with this shit again!”

You hear the sound of the bottle hitting the coffee table and feel the cushions shift as he climbs onto the couch. A moment later, he’s straddling you, careful not to crush you under his weight as he traps you in place.

“Come out, or I swear—”

“No!” you yell, voice muffled by the blankets.

His rough hands reach down and start poking at your sides, tickling just enough to make you squirm. “You think you can hide from me, huh? You think I won’t win?” You squeal and try to wriggle away, but his hands follow you no matter where you twist or turn.

“And what’s this?” he says, his voice suddenly shifting into a dramatic, Shakespearean tone that makes you freeze. “Dost thou defy thy loyal knight? Thy loving husband who vows to protect thee from thine own stubbornness?”

You huff, peeking out just enough to glare at him. “You have some fucking nerve. Out here taking this too personally.” Katsuki glares back, though his tone stays playful. 

“Damn right I am! Over my dead body am I not taking care of you, ya brat.” You pout, your lip jutting out slightly as you squint at him. Katsuki falters, his tough expression slipping just a bit as he fights the urge to grin.

“Don’t think yer off the hook,” he says, his voice gruff again. But his hand brushes lightly against your cheek, his thumb warm as it grazes your skin. “Now take the damn medicine, and I’ll let you sleep.”

“Promise?” you ask, your voice small but teasing.

He smirks, leaning down so his forehead almost touches yours. “Promise. But you pull this shit again, and I’m ticklin’ ya until you cry.”

With a reluctant sigh, you finally emerge from the blankets, and he holds up the medicine like a prize. You glare at him one last time before taking it, and he watches you with smug satisfaction.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, planting a quick kiss on your forehead.

"Can you both not do that while I’m here?"

The monotone voice cuts through the cozy quiet of the room like a snowball hitting glass. You barely have time to blink before a heavy weight drops onto both you and Katsuki.

“Ugh!” Katsuki grunts, momentarily thrown off balance. He shifts to regain his footing on the couch, one hand bracing against the armrest while the other clamps around your waist to keep you steady.

You, however, are already reaching for the familiar intruder. “Shoto!” you gasp softly, pulling him closer and feeling the coolness of his skin beneath the blanket he dragged with him. “I thought you were sleeping on the chaise?”

Shoto huffs, his expression as stoic as ever, but there’s a slight pout in the way his brows knit together. It’s the look he always gets when he feels left out, though he’d never admit it outright.

“I was,” he replies flatly. “Until the two of you started… whatever this is.” His mismatched eyes glance pointedly at how close you and Katsuki are before settling back on you with a raised brow.

You sigh, brushing your hand across his forehead to check his temperature. His skin feels a little warmer than it should, and you frown. “Sho, you should be resting,” you say softly, your tone shifting to that familiar, soothing one you always use with him.

Katsuki, however, is not so gentle. “The hell is your problem?” he snaps, glaring at Shoto while trying to shove him off. ��This is my damn house, and she’s my wife! Go cling to someone else, Half-and-Half!”

Shoto doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he tilts his head slightly and deadpans, “She’s also my twin sister. I have just as much a right to her attention as you do. More, actually. I’ve known her longer.”

Katsuki sputters, his eyes widening in outrage. 

“You—! That’s not how this works, you icy little—”

“Enough,” you interrupt, shooting Katsuki a warning look before turning your attention back to Shoto. “Sho, you need to take your medicine.” Shoto grimaces, his lips pressing into a thin line. 

“I don’t desire to.”

“Shoto,” you say firmly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You’re not going to get better if you don’t take it.”

He doesn’t budge, crossing his arms over his chest like a stubborn child.

You sigh, your patience wearing thin. “Fine,” you say, glancing over at Katsuki with a small, mischievous smirk. 

“I’ll just let Katsuki give you the medicine.”

Both men freeze.

Shoto turns his head slowly, his expression shifting from stubborn to wary as he locks eyes with Katsuki. The blond’s crimson gaze gleams with dangerous amusement, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“You wouldn’t,” Shoto says, his voice low but edged with uncertainty.

“Oh, I absolutely would,” you reply sweetly, sitting back to watch the scene unfold.

For a moment, it’s a silent standoff. Shoto narrows his eyes, and Katsuki cracks his knuckles. Then, before either of you can react, Shoto grabs the bottle of medicine, pops the lid off, and tips it back in one smooth motion.

“Shotooo!” you yell, lunging forward as the bottle tips higher, a waterfall of liquid medicine pouring straight into his mouth. He pulls it away with a slight wince, the bitter taste evident in the way his nose scrunches. 

“There,” he says flatly, handing you the now half-empty bottle. “Happy?”

Katsuki stares at him, his jaw hanging open in disbelief. “What the actual hell is wrong with you?”

You groan, placing the bottle on the table before grabbing Shoto’s face in both hands. “You’re supposed to take a measured dose, not half the bottle! Are you trying to kill yourself?”

“I didn’t want him to give it to me,” Shoto replies simply, casting a side-eye at Katsuki, who looks like he’s about to explode.

“You icy bastard—”

“Katsuki!” you snap, cutting him off before he can launch into another tirade. You shake your head, exasperated, and turn back to Shoto. “Next time, just let me handle it, okay?”

Shoto gives a small nod, looking mildly chastised but not entirely regretful. You sigh and wrap the blanket tighter around him, muttering something about stubborn men under your breath. Katsuki grumbles, crossing his arms as he watches you fuss over Shoto. “Unbelievable,” he mutters.

“Yea, but you love us,~” you tease, leaning back against him with a tired smile.

He huffs but doesn’t argue, pulling you closer while keeping one eye on Shoto.

You guide Katsuki to lay back against the center of the couch, his frame sinking into the plush cushions as his warmth radiates outward. He settles in with a low grumble, but the corner of his mouth twitches in a hint of a smile when you move to your usual spot, draping yourself across his chest. Your head comes to rest just over his heart, the steady, strong beat beneath you both grounding and soothing.

Shoto, ever observant and quietly calculating, watches the scene unfold from his perch at the edge of the couch. His mismatched eyes flick to the other side of Katsuki's chest, and after a moment of contemplation, he decides it’s the most practical place for him to claim. Without a word, he shifts closer and wraps an arm securely around your waist, resting his head against the opposite side of Katsuki's broad frame. 

Katsuki tenses for a second, glancing down at the both of you with a furrowed brow. “What the hell is this?” he mutters, his voice gruff but lacking any real bite.

“Shh,” you whisper, your voice soft and teasing as you pat his chest. “Just let it happen.”

He grumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like ‘wonder twins’ but ultimately relents, his hand instinctively finding its way to rest on your back as he lets out a resigned sigh.

The room settles into a comfortable quiet, the only sounds are the faint hum of the television and the occasional rustle of snow outside. You begin to trace absentminded patterns along Katsuki’s arm, your fingers trailing over the defined muscles and the faded scars scattered across his skin. He doesn’t pull away, allowing you this small indulgence as his breathing evens out.

You lift his hand to your lips, brushing a series of soft kisses along each fingertip. His calloused skin feels rough against your mouth, a stark contrast to the gentleness of your actions. Katsuki watches you through hooded eyes, his expression unreadable but his heart thudding a little harder beneath your cheek.

When you glance up at him, he snorts softly. “Yer weird,” he mutters, but there’s no heat to the words.

“And yet, you married me,” you shoot back with a grin, placing one final kiss on his thumb before he captures your hand in his. He intertwines your fingers with his own, his grip firm but tender, and brings your joined hands to his lips. His mouth brushes over your knuckles, lingering there for just a moment before he lowers them back down to rest on his chest.

“Don’t go fallin’ asleep without me,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough in your ear. The timbre of it sends a shiver down your spine, and you glance up to find him staring at you with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you reply softly, your smile warm as you press closer against him.

Shoto shifts beside you, his arm tightening slightly around your waist as he adjusts his position. He lets out a small, contented sigh, and you feel the tension in your body melt away as you relax fully into Katsuki’s frame. You toy with his hand a little longer, tracing the lines of his palm and pressing playful kisses along his knuckles while his free hand idly strokes your back. Eventually, his voice cuts through the quiet once more, softer this time.

“Yer somethin’ else, ya know that?”

“Mm,” you hum, already drifting on the edge of sleep. “And you love me for it.”

“Yes,” he admits quietly, his lips brushing against your hair as he adds, “Damn right I do.”

Shoto doesn’t say anything, but the slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth says enough. With you snugly sandwiched between them, the three of you find a peace that feels as natural as breathing. Katsuki's chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm beneath your cheek, the weight of his hand resting comfortably against your back. He’s close to drifting off, but the small tug at his shirt is enough to make him stir.

He opens one eye, crimson and groggy, to glance down at you.

“What now?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough from sleep. You tilt your head up, resting your chin on his chest as you look at him with a curious smile. 

“You never told me what your favorite part of the day was.”

His brow furrows slightly, and he gives you a long, unreadable look. “Hah?”

“You know,” you continue, your voice soft as you idly trace circles on his chest. “We did a lot today. What was your favorite part?”

He closes his eye again and exhales deeply through his nose, as if debating whether or not to entertain your question. His hand tightens slightly on your back, a subtle gesture of affection even as he pretends to be annoyed.

“I’m serious,” you insist, nudging him lightly. “Come on, tell me!”

Katsuki cuts you off with a low, tired groan.

“You don’t shut up, do ya?”

“No, she doesn’t—Ow!”

You retracted your foot from a certain brother's shin and pout, tugging at his tank top again. 

“Kat-su-ki.”

His eye cracks open once more, and he stares at you for a long moment, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he’s fighting a smile. Finally, he huffs out a breath and mutters, “Ya really wanna know?”

You nod eagerly, your eyes bright with anticipation as Katsuki looks you over.

You are his best friend, his partner, his whole damn world. 

The one person who could understand him in ways no one else ever could. The one who had seen him at his worst—furious, frustrated, broken—and stood by him anyway, never flinching, never turning away. There wasn’t a single thing he wouldn’t do for you, no mountain he wouldn’t climb, no fight he wouldn’t take on if it meant keeping you safe and happy.

Katsuki had never thought of himself as the type to spoil anyone, but with you? 

He couldn’t hold back. Whether it was remembering the exact brand of tea you liked, surprising you with that book you’d mentioned in passing, or drawing you a bath after a long day because he knew you loved the way it melted your stress away, he was always thinking of you. 

And though he didn’t always say it with words, every little gesture, every thought, was his way of showing just how much he cherished you.

He loved the way your face lit up when he cooked your favorite meals, the way you leaned into his touch when he pulled you into his arms after a long day. He’d bite back his gruff words when you were upset, softening for you in ways he never would for anyone else. If you needed him, he was there—no questions, no hesitation. 

He’d drop everything, no matter the time or place, just to see you smile again.

You are irreplaceable. No one could ever take your place in his heart. You are the one who makes him laugh until his sides hurt, who teases him just enough to keep him grounded, who has become the home he never knew he wanted. You aren’t just his wife; you were his best friend, his partner in crime, the only one who could tame his fiery temper with a look and melt his defenses with a smile.

Katsuki isn’t perfect, and he wouldn’t be the first to admit it, but for you, he tried. He tried to be softer, to show you just how much he adored you in every way he could. Because at the end of the day, you weren’t just the love of his life—

You are his everything.

“Suki?”

He shifts slightly beneath you, adjusting the arm draped over your back before he finally answers. 

“Favorite part was you bein’ a pain in my ass.”

You blink, taken aback. “What?!”

He smirks now, the corner of his mouth pulling up as he looks at you with a lazy, smug expression. Hand trailing dangerously over that one spot on your back that he knew you loved. 

“You heard me. You runnin’ around, causin’ chaos, laughin’ like an idiot… All of it. You’re a pain, but you’re my pain.”

Your cheeks flush, and you bury your face against his chest to hide the smile threatening to spread across your face. “You’re so dumb sometimes,” you mumble, your voice muffled against him. Kat snorts, clearly satisfied with himself as his hand slides up to rest against the back of your head. 

“Yeah, but yer stuck with me.”

“And I love it,” you shoot back, your voice playful despite your embarrassment.

“Damn right you do,” he replies, his voice softening as he presses a kiss to the center of your lips.

In the quiet that follows, you glance over to see Shoto watching the two of you with an unimpressed expression. 

“Could you save the mushy stuff for when I’m not here?”

Katsuki doesn’t even bother looking at him, choosing instead to pull you closer against his chest. “Shut it, Icy Hot. You’re lucky I didn’t kick your ass off this couch.”

Shoto sighs dramatically, but he doesn’t move from his spot curled against your side. You chuckle softly, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest as you let yourself relax fully into their embrace. 

This, right here, was your favorite part of the day.

“I forgot my tea mug at the park.”

“FOR FUCKS SAKE!"

@willnetries, I HEARD SOMEONE CALL FOR DESSERT!!

This was my first time trying to write the whole of class 1a into a fic and I need to lay down.

I DON'T OWN THE IMAGES!!!!

My requests are free and open.

Taglist from both of my master lists because I need to feed the cats: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, the-dumpster-fire-of-life, @raendarkfaerie, @bunny-b34r, icey-wonders, @adherethecomingofage, @karaartioli-blog, @meoweoeoeosme, @faithisxreading, @faithisidking, @oh-kayyy-stan-bts, @shortie-chocolate, @rosaline756. @sweetlike-sugarplum. @aespie, @dancingqueen276, @erensbbg, @lillizxzz,

Master lists in question: Katsuki's Sugar baby, Katsuki's Ex who secretly had his baby

My master list is a work in progress but there's plenty more Katsuki, Aizawa, and other characters if you request them. Ao3 is sexy too.

You can also tip me a coffee if you want. (Just made it, so excited! \(≧▽≦)/ <33)

Remember: Comments and likes, they really help. Don't be afraid to leave me a sexy little reblog too.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡ -Angie

[peachylynnie]

keep it peachy with the love and deepspace boys!

୨୧ sylus! ➛wine ➛sick ➛the cat butler ➛garlic ➛gift exchange ➛blackjack ➛ace ➛igloo ୨୧ xavier! ➛wolf in sheep's clothing ➛igloo ୨୧ rafayel! ➛old ➛igloo ୨୧ zayne! ➛glasses ➛igloo ୨୧ caleb! ➛igloo(new!)

[moonstruckme]

What about Robin with a blind date reader. Set up by Steve. Or Reader meeting the group for the first time after dating Robin for a while and being super nervous. Or Robin and reader being like super close and either Robin or the reader comes to the other after a bad date with someone else and they just comfort the other person. Maybe a love confession?

Thank you for requesting (and for your patience)!

cw: implied compulsive heterosexuality, talk of being queer in the 80s (though lots would apply now too tbh), bi panic

Robin Buckley x fem!reader ♡ 1.7k words

You let yourself in Robin’s back door. She’s fishing pickles out of a jar. 

“Eugh. Freak.” 

“Hey.” She doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s you, crunching a pickle between her teeth unabashedly. “That was quick. Was your date a taxidermist or something?” 

“Nope.” You slouch down on the couch beside her, drawing a throw around your shoulders. Robin’s mom always keeps the heat low to save money; their home in the winter is barely warmer than an igloo. Robin likely has three layers on underneath her old band hoodie. “Just lame.” 

Robin’s eyebrows go up. “Harsh.” 

You sigh, drawing your knees in. “I know. Sorry, I don’t mean to be mean.” 

“Hey, don’t apologize to me.” She nudges your foot with hers, smiling a little. “I don’t care, I’m not friends with the guy.” 

“No, but it’s not fair. He was fine.” Robin gives you a dubious look, and you laugh. It loosens something inside you. “He was nice,” you amend. “Really, there wasn’t anything wrong with him. I don’t know what my problem is. He just wasn’t what I was thinking he’d be.” 

“Huh.” Robin leans into the couch cushion, fishing for another pickle. Her fork clinks against the edges of the glass jar with a restless tinkling. “I thought you said you really liked him. Unless I’m getting this one mixed up with another one? Sorry, I can’t keep them straight…” 

She looks genuinely perplexed. It makes you laugh again. “Okay, there haven’t been that many.” 

Robin shrugs. “You know all men look the same to me.” 

“They do not!” 

“Most of them do.” She grins, and you realize you feel about ten times lighter than you had before you came over. Time spent with Robin tends to have that effect on you. 

You mirror her, letting your weight sink into the back cushion of the couch. “I did think I really liked him,” you say, toying with the weave of your throw. “But now…I don’t know, I guess maybe I wanted to like him more than I actually did.” 

“Why?” 

“I think I just really want to be in love,” you answer plainly. “I see it happen to other people, and it makes me curious, and also I just…I sort of just feel ready, you know? Like I want it to happen, but I don’t know with who. Or, honestly, it’s more like I’m trying to force it on people who don’t fit. And I have this feeling like it could happen so easily, like I’m just meant to fall in love, but I don’t have anyone to focus that on right now. Sorry, I don’t know if that makes any sense. Do you ever feel like that?” 

You look up, and you realize that your fingers have found the string of Robin’s hoodie unconsciously, coiling it loosely around a fingertip. Her eyes seem stuck to it, but they raise to yours after a moment. Blue darkened to a deep gray like the ocean in a storm. 

“No,” she says. It’s barely more than a breath. 

You run the pad of your thumb over the plasticy end of her hoodie string. “No?” 

She offers you a half-hearted, flickering smile. “I guess I probably don’t fall in love until I have someone to focus it on. I don’t know, maybe that’s just how I work.” 

You feel your brows scrunch. You’re not sure if she means that she’s never felt your craving for love or that she already has fallen in love before, but you get the sense there’s some secret being uncovered here. It’s not like you and Robin to have secrets. 

“But you’ve never been in a relationship,” you say bemusedly. “Have you?” 

Hurt twinges in her expression. 

“Sorry,” you say automatically, dropping the string of her hoodie. 

“Do you think you have to be in a relationship to fall in love?” Robin asks. Her face is starting to color beneath her freckles. 

“I don’t know,” you say. “But wouldn’t you have to really know someone?”

“You don’t have to be in a relationship to get to know someone.” 

You nod, considering this. “So, have you been in love?” 

Robin shrugs. She’s really pink now. “I don’t know, I think so. There’s not really a way to be sure, right? I mean, I’ve asked—Steve’s always like ‘you just know,’ which is the worst answer ever because I’m not super confident in my intuition, and it seems kind of important thing to be wrong about…but, I don’t know, it’s just like how you know when you’re happy or sad, right? Except—” 

“So you think you have.” 

Robin’s bottom lip dimples like she’s chewing the inside. She gives a half-shrug. “I guess.” 

You feel your eyes widen. “With who?” 

Again, her brows bunch as though you’ve said something cruel. “That’s not fair.” 

“What?” A surprised laugh trips out of you. “Come on, you know all the guys I’ve dated.” 

“Yeah,” she says quietly, “but it’s not guys for me.” 

Your excitement drains away. You know things are different for Robin. You’ve talked before about how her dating life is riskier than yours, how the worst that could happen isn’t just rejection but social ostracization or worse. You’ve suspected Robin stays blase and quippy about relationships because she doesn’t think one is possible for her, at least not right now; you just didn’t know it hurt her like this. You think that you should have known. 

“It’s fine.” She gives you another of those brief smiles, probably seeing the guilt on your face. “I’m happy with just being friends. I don’t know if they would ever want anything—I don’t even know if they like girls—so, I mean, it’s enough just to sort of be in their orbit.” 

“Robin.” She’s abandoned her fork in the pickle jar, only a few small pickles swimming in the juice. You wrap your hand around hers. “I’m sorry.” 

She shakes her head, turning her gaze from yours to set the jar down on the floor. “It’s fine,” she says again. 

“If it’s someone good enough for you to fall in love with,” you try, “she probably wouldn’t be mean about it even if she didn’t like girls.” 

“I don’t want to mess anything up,” Robin says quickly. 

“You might not.”  Your chest aches with earnestness. If there’s anyone who deserves to give love and have it given back, it’s Robin. “Listen, I know you; you’d never pressure anyone, and she probably won’t want to give you up either. So even if she can’t see you that way, it probably won’t ruin the relationship you already have. But I think she’ll like you back.” 

Robin’s eyes meet yours again. “Seriously?” 

You smile at her, bumping your foot into hers lightly. “Yeah, of course. Robs, you’re beautiful. And you’re funny, and smart. You’re creative. I mean, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had, so I can only imagine what a great girlfriend you’d be. Anyone would be lucky to have you. I’m not just saying that, I really think that…that…” 

Robin has never been very good at hiding what she’s feeling. More often than not she’ll blurt it out, but in the rare cases that she doesn’t anyone can find it on her face. The look that comes over her is a rawness like you’ve never seen. Realization seeps into you like a snowmelt, softening into the earth on the first day of warm sun. 

Robin looks away.

Your lips part, but no sound comes out. Your heart feels lodged in your throat. You’ve never known your friend to be this quiet. 

When you do get your voice working, it’s only an echo. “Anyone would be lucky,” you say. 

Robin seems frozen. An animal in the woods, unwilling to breathe for fear of being noticed. 

“Robin,” you say, softly. “I’m really lucky to have you. I love you so much.” 

Finally, her gaze flickers up to yours. “But not like that,” she finishes for you. 

“I don’t…I don’t know.” 

She seems to take this worse than a rejection. Her eyes squint for a moment in hurt and confusion. She draws into her hoodie, retreating away from you. “Oh.” 

“I’m sorry.” You sound raw now, too. You look at her lips, at the soft scrunch of her brows. The tug in your middle is familiar, and yet unnamed. “I just haven’t…I haven’t ever thought that way before. About girls. I don’t know yet.” 

“It’s fine.” Robin shakes her head. She’s talking fast again, and it’s almost a relief, this small return to normalcy. “You don’t have to know—I mean, I knew, but I don’t really know what it’s like for other people, or if—anyway, I’m not trying to force you to feel anything. You don’t have to.” 

“I know that,” you promise her, again reaching for her hand. It’s an instinct, you don’t even register you’ve done it until her palm is soft and cool inside yours and she’s looking at you with intense bemusement. You know you’re not being fair. You squeeze her hand anyway. “I know you’re not trying to make me say or feel anything, and I’m not saying anything because of you. I just…I guess I’m thinking that I might feel things anyways. But we just talked about this, right? No one with half a brain would give you up. I still want to be your friend. I might…I might want to try for more than that, but I know I want to be your friend. Is that okay?” 

You force yourself to look at her, though it burns just a little. You wouldn’t blame Robin if she didn’t want to be your friend now, honestly; you’re the one making things awkward, not her. But you watch her face as she processes this (She really is beautiful. You’ve always known it, but now you know it differently) and you sense what she’s going to say before she says it. 

“Yeah.” Robin’s fingers tighten around yours, cold and slightly sticky with pickle juice. “Of course, totally. I couldn’t…I wouldn’t want to give you up either.” 

You try on a smile. “Maybe we could try the other thing sometime.” 

Robin laughs; it’s a nervous sound, but it brightens the room just the same. You relax some. “Like what,” she asks, “hang out? We already do that.” 

“You know what I mean.” You push your calf into hers teasingly. Have you always sat this close? The room feels warmer just for being near her. “Like, in a date way.” 

Robin watches your face. You try to be brave, letting her see the sincerity in it. 

“Yeah, okay.” One of her fingers moves against yours, the tiniest caress. “We could do that.”

[capslocked]

SERENDIPITY

male reader x kwon eunbi

18k words

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’s half-right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh?” she asks, leaning in. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just shrug.

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

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

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

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

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

“Not that young.”

“You’re twenty-seven.”

“Twenty-five.”

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

“Does that bother you?”

“Why would that bother me?”

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s complicated.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fun with what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not most guys.”

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

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

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

“Tactful.”

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

“That’s not - I’m not-”

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You press down and she hiccups.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

There she goes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So bend, you tell her, don’t break.

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

How you might ever put her back together.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks for the ten-dollar-word.”

“Lucky,” she reiterates.

“I know what it means.”

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

“Can you stop.”

“Does she?”

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

“One crisis at a time, okay.”

“What are you going to tell Minju?”

“Nothing.”

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

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

“Hm, bad idea.”

“Oh, alright then.”

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

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

“Yeah, no kidding.”

-

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

It always starts the same way:

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

(She’s stunning as ever.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you?”

“No,” you end up saying, bluntly.

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

“Yeah.” You tilt your head. “Sure.”

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

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

“Just entertain the thought for me.”

“Like a hypothetical, you mean.”

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, she probably will.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Unh-uh,” says Eunbi flippantly. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

-

(Here’s how it goes:

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can only nod, breath panting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

-

But what else is there to say?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You need her.

-

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

It starts to get in the way of your work.

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, well, I mean I’m here.”

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

“No.”

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

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

“What?”

“How about this, are you feeling depression.”

You pause before you answer. “No.”

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

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

She sinks into her seat, disappointed somehow.

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

“Stop.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes water, and you start to thrust.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

(It happens.

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

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

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

You don’t.

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

-

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

He nods.

“Like every week?”

Nods again.

“Does he have a name?”

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

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

Serendipitous.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Day 19: Build a snowman

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Character: Stanford Pines

Naughty or Nice: Nice

"Let's build a snowman!"

Looking up from his book's, Fords eyes went wide as he fixed his glasses. "Why?"

"Because it's fun."

Ford parted his lips, then shifted his weight in the chair he was sitting in. Seeing how excited you were over something so little, he couldn't say no to you, not to someone he cared so deeply about.

Hand in hand, Ford stepped out side of the shack as he glanced around. It was a crisp winter day in Gravity Falls, the town blanketed in a thick layer of snow. Your eyes glancing over at Ford, the man bundled up in his warmest coat, scarf and gloves.

The man was looking forward to a quiet day of research but he just couldn't say no to you.

Nearly squealing, you let go of his hand taking off as your boots crunched over the snow. "This is perfect for building a snowman." Your eyes sparkled with excitement, and Ford couldn’t help but smile at your enthusiasm.

Ford chuckled, grabbing his hat. “Let’s see what we can create.”

Ford followed after you as he trudged through the snow to a clear spot in the yard. You immediately started rolling a large snowball for the base, while Ford, ever the scientist, analyzed the snow’s consistency.

“This snow has the perfect moisture content for packing,” Ford noted, helping you with the base. “It should hold together nicely.”

Snorting, you gave him a teasing grin. "Nerd."

"Hey!"

As you two worked, you both chatted about your favorite winter memories. You shared stories of snowball fights and sledding, while Ford reminisced about the time he and his brother Stan built an igloo that lasted for weeks.

With the base complete, you both moved on to the middle section. Ford’s precision and your creativity made for a perfect team. You carefully placed the middle snowball on top of the base with Ford's help, making sure it was secure.

“Now for the head,” you said, rolling the final snowball. Ford helped lift it into place, yo both stepping back to admire the work.

“Looks good,” Ford said, nodding in approval. “But it’s missing something.” The man tilted your head to the side.

Your eyes lit up turning to face Ford as you snatched the mans scarf off his neck, once it was wrapped around the snowman you slipped off your hat placing it on the head. "Their! Perfect..."

“Perfect,” Ford smiled as he wrapped his arm around your waist, you both admiring the creation. “I think this might be the best snowman in Gravity Falls.”

You grinned. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Ford.” Placing a kiss to his cheek, Ford relaxed holding you close.

This was perfect, he felt his stress just melting away thanks to you.

And he would do it all again.

[mountsmase]

Winter Holiday

(Hi! Sorry again for not posting yesterday but I hope this makes up for it 🤭 It’s around 1k of rambles again but I love this one)

——————

Imagine going on a winter holiday with Mason, going to one of your bucket list destinations like Lapland during the lead up to Christmas.

Let’s say you’ve finally finished work for Christmas and Mason has a few days off of training, you’ve got all of his family coming up to spend Christmas with you in Manchester next week and you’ve both been so busy recently so you wanted to take the time to book a little trip and spend a few days away together.

There were a few places that you were thinking of going but you decided on Lapland. It’s somewhere you’ve always wanted to visit and Mason has too so you booked the flights and accommodation and not even a week later you’re boarding your flight to Finland.

You’d have to pack all of your warmest clothes, preparing for temperatures that are in the minuses and you’d even go out and buy some new snow boots so that you’ve got some kind of appropriate footwear and of course Mason doesn’t go cheep, making sure to get you both the best of the best and even a new coat each so that you’re not struggling too much with the cold during your stay.

Let’s say that the trip isn’t a surprise, you booked it pretty spontaneously but you knew you were going, however Mason took care of everything else.

I can definitely imagine him wanting to make the trip a special one, booking the most extravagant accommodation and all of the activities he’s heard you talk about for the years he’s known you. Some of it was quite hard to find and book so last minute, but all the effort he went through was worth it when he sees the look on your face as you pull up to your hotel.

It’s not a regular hotel or resort by any means, a few buildings forming a little village around the check in area but there isn’t one big enough to house hotel rooms of any kind, you’re a bit confused until you see the name of the hotel and recognise it from an Instagram account you’ve been following for years.

It’s quite entertaining trying to get your suitcases through the snow but you finally get to where you’re staying. A glass igloo (I might do a terrible job of exposing this so please google it if it doesn’t make sense 😭). A little ‘hut’ like building that’s made half of glass (mirrored on the outside) and only just big enough for a bed and some other essentials, the bathroom is off to the side, being the only part of the room that’s not made of glass. It would face out over a (frozen) lake, all of the other rooms either too far away or facing the opposite direction so that you’ve got complete privacy even with all of the curtains open.

You’d sleep with them open every night, getting to sleep under the stars without having to worry about too much light coming in as there’s only a few hours of daylight in Lapland anyway.

You’d spend the first 2 days of the trip doing loads of activities and exploring the local area. You’d do things like dog sledging (which would make you miss little ace and want to get him a friend to keep him company) and wildlife safaris, which are both things you never even thought of doing, as well as a few hikes and a visit to an ice hotel.

But one of the highlights of the trip would be when you go snowmobiling. Your hotel would have some available to hire either for a couple of hours or for the whole day and you decide to hire one during the few hours of sun light you get on the second day of your trip. You only decide to hire one because you’re quite unsure about driving it so don’t want to waste the money getting two. Mason does most of the driving and you sit behind him with your arms wrapped around his waist as you drive through areas around the hotel and a designated trail they’ve made through the forest.

You have a go at driving for a little bit once you’re in a quieter area and you stop for a while to have some snacks and drink some hot chocolate that you brought from the hotel in a flask. You catch the start of the sunset and enjoy it for a couple of minutes before deciding to head back to the hotel so you can make it back before it gets too dark.

You’d be pretty full on during the day, trying to fit in everything you want to do in the short time that you’re there, so you’d spend the evenings relaxing at the ‘hotel’, either going to the restaurant or ordering room service for dinner before putting on a movie or catching up on a series before bed. We know that cozy nights in with Mason would be the best and I think the glass igloos would make for the perfect one.

And we all know Mason isn’t a massive fan of the cold, but maybe your cabin has a private hot tub out on the deck and you convince him to get in it with you after dinner one night. You obviously can’t just get straight in with your clothes on so you change into your bikini and he puts his swim trunks on before you wrap yourselves in the fluffy robes that are provided. It’s not easy getting outside, knowing you’re going to be hit by the cold almost as soon as the door opens and you’re definitely not dressed appropriately, but you know it’ll be worth it so you each slip on a pair of flip flops and rush outside, throwing your robes off and climbing into the tub as quickly as you can without falling on the icy ground. You’d let out sighs of relief as you settle into the hot water, seeking out his body and settling into his side as he reaches over to turn the bubbles on.

The main area lights would be turned off, the only remaining light coming from inside the hot tub, and that, combined with the lack of light pollution where your staying, would give you a perfect view of the clear night sky. You’d stay in there for hours, tucked into his side as you gaze up at the stars and point out constellations every time you see one you know. Mase might not recognise any of them, but he’d love listening to you talk about them and would always be asking you questions or asking what they mean.

If getting in the hot tub was hard, getting out is impossible. Having to get out and face the cold seems scary, and it takes far too long to finally work up the courage to do it. Mason being the gentleman he is climbs out first, throwing on his robe before turning to hold a hand out for you and you take it, carefully stepping out and into the robe that Mason is holding for you in his free hand. The cold hits you instantly, the water droplets on your skin feeling as though they’re freezing but you’re inside quickly, closing the door behind you and turning up the heating to the max.

You’d jump in the shower to rinse off any chlorine and you’d warm up fairly fast, both of you changing into your warmest PJs and climbing straight into bed to watch a movie before drifting off to sleep ready for your last day tomorrow.

Your last day would be one of the best ones, spending it in the hotels spa facility, relaxing and making the most of the peace and quiet, as well as the quality time together, before the craziness of Christmas starts as soon as you get home.

Your last night would be a special one too. Your flight home is early the next morning but maybe you book to have dinner at a restaurant in the local town, one of the most highly rated/recommended ones, and it’s incredible, trying local dishes and cuisine (even if some of it is a little off putting) before heading back to the hotel for an early night.

But as you’re laying in bed, gazing up through the glass ceiling, you spot something you never thought you’d be lucky enough to see in real life. At first you think you’re imagining it, not really believing your eyes but then Mason points it out and you know your eyes aren’t deceiving you and it really is the northern lights that you’re seeing.

You stay in bed for a while to watch them, both in absolute awe before deciding to throw your coats on and go outside to get a clearer few, you stay out there for ages, the need to have an early night the least of your concerns as you watch and take photos until they begin fading. It would truly be a moment you’ll remember forever, the thing that’s always been at the top of your bucket list now crossed off, and it was even more special getting to witness and experience it with Mason.

The whole trip would just be insane, so special in so many different ways and neither of you would want to leave when it came time to check out the next morning. But you’ve got so much to look forward to once you get home, and as much as you’ll miss Lapland and the time you got to spend with Mason, you can’t wait to get back reality and have an amazing Christmas with him and the people closest to you.

———————

Day 6 Concepts being posted straight after this 🫶🏻🎄

[tragicallyuncreative]

Merry Crisis 🎄

Per usual, I am scrambling to get in my minimum volunteer EMT hours this year and because I don’t have kids, I’m happy to pick up holiday shifts and let those with families enjoy their kiddos at home! On till 9 and if call volume is miraculously low (doubtful) will be working on some more Curtis gang holiday drabbles/ chapters. Just returned from a classic holiday 911 call- family gathering/ dinner gone south with drunk brothers fighting and one stabbing the other through the arm with a screwdriver 😬 Surprisingly little blood, stabilized the penetrating object, and hauled ass outta there with brother in handcuffs and patient still swearing revenge as we loaded him in the back. I love the holidays 😂

~ ✨and now… presenting The Outsiders characters as seen through holiday EMS/ ED visits✨

Darry: classic Christmas lights mishap. Slipped off the roof and landed directly on his ankle. Pretty impressive open fracture. Johnny took one look at the bone poking through the skin and puked on the spot. Bonus: Mr. Curtis was very eager to teach the boys about his Jewish heritage and Hanukkah traditions until 7-year-old Darry thought the menorah in his bedroom window looked sad with only 2 candles lit so snuck the box of matches and tried to light all the candles, then pulled the curtain BEHIND THE LIT MENORAH to hide the fact he was using matches without permission. This went about as well as one would expect (this may or may not be based on personal experience 😬)

Two-Bit: tried to deep fry a turkey in a bucket of oil in his backyard to bring to the Curtis’s for their first Christmas without their parents. The resulting explosion was heard throughout the neighborhood. Splash burns to face and arms. Chest was protected by clothing but Two-Bit was extremely upset that is Mickey-in-a-Santa-hat shirt was ruined and would rather have just taken the extra burns to salvage it. ✨real-life call I’ve personally responded to. Family was more concerned with turkey than charred Uncle Dave.

Steve: attempted to run over 12-year-old Ponyboy’s painstakingly built snowman with his new (used) truck. Didn’t wear a seatbelt because why would he. Gunned the engine too hard, jolted forward on impact, face hit the dash, top two teeth went through his bottom lip. 4 stitches needed. Ponyboy laughed his ass off the entire ride there and asked if his freakishly large teeth were now sanded down. ✨real-life call I’ve personally responded to. 10/10 entertainment factor.

Sodapop: frostbite to entire left foot because he forgot to wear a sock inside his snow boots. Couldn’t feel his toes but thought that meant he was just really well-insulated and continued to build his igloo. Mrs. Curtis soaked his foot in warm water for 2 hours until blood flow returned.

Dallas: told a small child in the dime store that Santa wasn’t real. Kid started crying. Kids dad appeared and sucker punched him so hard he was knocked out cold. Woke up on the floor with a black eye, concussion, and people continuing to do their Christmas shopping while stepping around him.

Ponyboy: home alone and forgot about the baked Mac n cheese he was supposed to take out of the oven because he was reading a book. In his defense, the book was really good. Then fell asleep on the couch and woke up an hour later to smoke pouring out of the oven. Opened the oven door, saw flames, and instinctively tossed a glass of water blindly inside. Made it worse so instinctively reached in, pulled out flaming casserole dish, and threw it in the sink. Burns to hands and temporary vision difficulties from steam.

Johnny: decided he totally could be a hockey champion with the proper training. Also has the worst hand-eye coordination known to man. Hit hockey puck so hard that it overshot the goal, bounced off a tree trunk, rebounded, and hit him directly in the face (picture Ross from Friends episode). Broken nose and two chipped teeth.

Lilah Matthews (age 10): decided her tree nut allergy was a personal weakness and could be overcome by sheer willpower. Baked a pecan pie all by herself, proudly took a bite, and blew up like a balloon. Two-Bit panicked, couldn’t remember how to use the epipen, tossed her in the truck, and drove to the hospital at 90 MPH. ✨call I picked up on way back to the station. Car driving like a maniac and flagged us down. Kid told me the Reese’s cup he ate despite deadly peanut allergy was 100% worth it.

Bonus Betty for @fangirl-docintraining : very excited to use the brand new invention of the electric hand mixer to make Mrs. Curtis’s renowned cheesecake recipe. First Christmas dating Darry and determined to make a good impression. Bent down to squint at recipe card while mixing and hair got caught in mixer, causing minor scalp bleeding with chunks of hair ripped out. Forced to adopt a fuck ass Bob™️ haircut and loves it, just wishes acquiring it wasn’t so painful.

Feel free to add on. The potential is great 🤣

[thepoisonjackal]

Do you have any headcanons or concepts of how houses would look for each tribe? I’m always so curious about what people think

Sure I can write some thoughts! I might doodle these later but I'm not the biggest fan of drawing buildings so we'll see. This is all coming from my OC Universe, but it's mostly consistent with canon too.

Skywing: It's said they like caves, so commoners and nomads probably just find whatever random cave they can find. If they actually take the time to build it, maybe they could carve out more intricate rooms, windows, pillars and carvings, and maybe the richer ones could get wood for balconies/struts/furniture. If they're built from the ground up, mostly a lot of stone work, stained glass for richer homes, tall pillars, not a lot of stairs (more for flying in and out) so a lot of open areas and big doors/windows to fly out of if needed.

Mudwing: Although the poorest live in those packed mud hut things, the common house is a beaver dam thing with an underwater entrance, an underground basement (though not very big) with more of a terracotta/brick based structure above ground. They're very warm and very open plan, not individual rooms per se but more of a big ol studio for all the sibs to live in. And you'd get a bunch of these in a village. The richer could probably afford wood stilts to get raised houses outside of the water made of wood, though not every mudwing prefers that because they like the mud to sleep in. So it's more of a merchant stall type thing rather than somewhere you sleep. The palace would be a mix of wood and terracotta brick, with a lot of water features.

Icewings: Most icewing houses are igloos or underground bunker type things. It also depends on where you're at. In the more mountainous areas, they could probably make relatively simple stone buildings that look more like fortresses/fortified castles, with snow and ice being used as mortar inbetween the stones. The rich houses and palaces though are in the heart of the ice kingdom, where it's coldest, and the houses are made of pure ice, either carved or made with frostbreath. Wood isn't the best for the cold, so they wouldn't bother importing it.

Seawings: Underwater, it's mostly underwater caves, or coral reef areas. They might be able to bring around some stones to create a little hut out of, but they're usually nothing super elaborate. Houseboats are popular for merchants because they can move their stuff around and catch the attention of swimming seawings. On land, on the shores, they would use stone and wood that they can get near the shore and from the sea. They're usually nothing super fancy or crazy, just functional for seawings who have business on the land more than they do the water. The palace would be in a coral reef area, with a lot of underwater/underground rooms. There would be a little bit above ground for when non-seawings visit, but its not used very much if there's not guests.

Rainwings: Pretty much just what canon says. A lot of wooden platforms, a lot of rope bridges and wooden huts with leaf canopies, it would be very layered and open for everyone to fly around. I don't have much to say here, I love the canon rainwing kingdom.

Nightwings: (In my OC universe they live in the mountains where Jade Mountain is in canon, so the range between the desert/rain forest area) Nightwings love the canyons more than the peaks, so they also love caves, but they adore taking their time with every single one and meticulously carving something into every cave wall. Rope bridges connecting the canyon walls, a real maze carved out behind each wall, and plenty of wood and gemstones embedded to show their wealth. The palace is built into the highest peak, with it being quite narrow relative to other palaces, but going very, very deep into the mountain with a lot of layers. There are a few towers and windows seen from the outside, however.

Sandwings: A lot of sandwings are nomadic, and towns are built around oases. The buildings are made of sandstone and brick, and due to most sandwings moving around a lot, inns are more popular than individual houses, though there are still houses for those who don't feel like moving around a lot. They tend to be not very noteworthy, mostly square with only a story or two, but with paintings and tapestries to spice it up. There's also tents for those going out into the desert and those who just want to rest in a town without getting an inn. A lot of sandwings also travel at night/dawn/dusk and sleep during the heat of the day. In the richer communities, they'll add wood and glass, and fancier inns. As for the palace, honestly I just visualize something that looks like the Taj Mahal or the Kremlin Palace. A lot of sandstone, glass, taller towers and walls, and water features to show off wealth.