#i need to stop offering rides i can't afford clearly

[sonicismyboyfriend]

trying to decide if i'm gonna risk running out of gas on route 1 or if i'm gonna beg my biodad for gas money for the second time this week

[squishyneet]

·˚ ༘₊· SACRED NEMESES ꒰➳ LOOKISM ༊*·˚

tw: pure angst (and whatever Gitae got goin on), implied sexual assault, groping, brief description of blood, description of dissociation, malnutrition, also huge spoiler warning

I've been callin' ya

Ryohei knocked for the seventh time that day, slumped against Mitsuki's door, anxiously hoping she might finally come out. "Mitsuki, dear . . . you have to . . . have to eat something," he managed, somewhat deprived of energy himself as a result of his resolution to monitor her. "I'll help you . . . if you can't do it by yourself . . ." Ryohei's eyes fluttered shut as he passed out safely against Mitsuki's door, unaware of the tears hitting the floor on the other side.

But you won't pick up

"Don't worry, Gyeoul. I will protect you no matter what." Gyeoul stared flatly at Hangyeoul, his dear pathetic and dutiful brother, and wondered he could possibly be thinking. Did he really believe such a feat was achievable? His weak brother who succumbed to coercion, who never once fought for himself was supposedly going to protect him? "I told you to stop saying things like that."

'Nother fortnight lost in America

"That James Lee is merely a dog I keep on a leash. He does his master's bidding," Charles Choi grimly remarked to Gun, clearly disturbed by the mere thought of the man. James listened mindlessly from outside the room, staring and spacing out. "His strength and history don't matter anymore as long as I have him under my heel." James foggily recalled his dear memories of fighting the Kings, people he may have called friends if not for his current situation. He kind of missed that Jichang.

Move to Florida!!!

Thick and syrupy blood still dripped from the walls of Kenta's house when walked to his room to pack his things to move to Seoul. He silently and mechanically folded his clothes, took a tooth brush, and drank some water. Metallic taste lingering deep in his throat, he made his way to the airport feeling, despite only carrying one loosely filled backpack, heavier than ever. He wondered about Seoul, partially worried about how he won't fit in and partially because thinking about his hometown made his stomach churn inside out.

Buy the car you want

Fatigue had ploddingly taken Eugene in his office. Cheeks hollow and eyes going blurry, he impatiently stuck a blank flash drive into his laptop to copy the footage of Gyeoul's kidnapping. He rested his face on his hand and sluggishly gazed at the sun going down, faintly hoping this might finally be enough to make the case against Charles Choi. The chairman of Workers fell asleep in a Rolls-Royce on a dreamy car ride home to the thought of his nemesis, slackly covered in a blanket stored for him.

But it won't start up til you touch, touch, touch me

Jinyoung browsed through his old notebooks, full of information regarding his beloved drugs, ingredients, their combinations, and the like. Messy notes and revisions scribbled in margins and the occasional doodle made by Gapryong or Lightning. He steadily reviewed them as he always had when he got an idea for a new drug. He leisurely recalls a time when he could go out with his friends, study anywhere he pleased, and feel the sunlight on his skin. Now, he is pale with sinking eyes and a blindness to the smell of rubbing alcohol in his lab as he mourns his youth sanctified in faded pages.

I've been callin' ya

"You're leaving?" Daniel murmured, confused. Eli stopped idly in his tracks, hands in pockets, unresponsive. "Is it because you can't afford to go to school anymore?" Daniel lamented quietly, looking away. " . . . I have a family to take care of, Daniel," Eli stated simply. "Please don't worry about me." "Well, if you need help . . ." Daniel began but Eli had already proceeded through the main exit to the courtyard, and his half-hearted offer fell on unwilling ears.

But you won't pick up

"I've already drank with somebody else," Gun expressed calmly. Is this Stockholm syndrome? Goo's chest hurt. He was right. There was no such thing as making friends in Korea and everyone was just as superficial as they seemed. He drank by himself, distracting his mind by pondering how much of his things to take when he moves out of that damn cage of a house. At least he wouldn't have to worry about being groped while cooking anymore. That kinda hurt.

'Nother fortnight lost in America

'Thing were more peaceful with him around.' 'The Kings came so close.' Jichang heard these never ending observations bounce around in his head as he filled his car with the last of his belongings. His brothers were already made comfortable at their new home. Jaw clenched and seething, he mentally bids goodbye and sets off from Seoul for the last time into the blazing sunlight and hot winds of Chungcheong, determined not to lose his new kingdom before he had even claimed it.

Move to Florida!!!

'I'm going back to Mexico.' Gitae tucked his phone into his back pocket, blowing smoke through barely parted lips outside the airport. He shivered and exhaled heavily, eager to leave and to smoke one last cigarette before his flight. The idea that he ever resembled his father made his blood boil and he's glad the rat bastard is dead. He sharply put out the cigarette in the allotted tray, making a mental note to work on his Spanish and to buy a new axe when he arrived. The sight of his hometown made his head spin.

Buy the car you want

Na Jaegyeon writhed weakly against a wall as he felt lips brush his ear. "Do you taste good too, little boy?" Flustered, he held his breath and tried to avoid eye contact. He had the misfortune of visiting Seoul at precisely the wrong time and was approached in an alley by Gitae Kim, against whom he certainly did not stand a chance. "Or should I bring you to Mexico with me? They'll like you over there," Gitae whispered, low and arousing. Jaegyeon shuddered when he felt strong hands snaking around his waist and a warm mouth start to probe his neck. He never should have gotten in the car.

But it won't start up til I touch, touch, touch you

Taesoo was visiting of his own accord. Seongji's grave was silent, clean, and furnished with a multitude of flowers. He dearly missed the time when he could entertain the thought of the Kings acting like family, argumentative as some of them were. He missed the time when peace truly seemed like an option for Korea, fragmented as it was. And he missed Seongji, close as he seemed before his eyes.

Lyrics from 'Fortnight', Taylor Swift, The Tortured Poets Department

[isfjmel-phleg]

The Saga of Ray's Refrigerator

As discussed by the editor and writer, The Ray 1994 is in part "about a guy who needs to buy a refrigerator." Readers evidently took that to heart, like D. B. Bennett here:

Does Ray ever get that fridge the minute he really needs it? Why a refrigerator? Why is it important?

Story time!

After the death of the uncle whom Ray grew up believing was his father, their house had to be sold to cover legal fees. Ray goes apartment hunting on a small budget with no credit, and the best he can do is a shabby one-room place over a pizza restaurant. There's a huge, hideous sculpture in one corner, but no refrigerator. Note the place beside the stove that suggests that there must have been a refrigerator there at some point.

(The Ray 1994 #1)

This demonstrates the level of squalor that he has sunk to, as well as the fact that he hasn't really "made it" as an adult on his own yet--he doesn't have all the basic household necessities. He's not really ready to take on life.

The lack of a refrigerator is the first thing everyone points out upon entering the apartment, everyone from Ray's father...

(#5)

...to a random burgler.

(#11)

A repeated reminder of his inadequacy as an adult.

At one point, Ray intends to go shopping for a list of household necessities, including a refrigerator, but instead he purchases a huge Superman poster and a stereo he can't really afford. Money management is apparently another thing he never learned during his isolated upbringing, and his priorities are still those of a child--things he wants before things he needs.

(#6)

Of course, it's not just Ray's immaturity that's keeping him from that refrigerator. Writer Christopher Priest on his website provides a more in-depth account of Ray's attempts to purchase a refrigerator and how difficult this is for someone with no real-world experience in an era before online shopping:

Ray Terrill wants to buy a refrigerator. Folded into a tiny second-floor walkup over Shahid's Famous Pizza in North Philadelphia, Ray's been keeping his milk and cheese out on the fire escape to keep it cool. But now that spring has arrived, he needs an actual ice box. Problem is, Ray's watched the Home Shopping Club virtually non-stop for six days, and they haven't offered a refrigerator. None of the mail-order catalogs that come to his house display any, either. The chilling realization washes over him: if he wants the refrigerator, he's going to have to go out and get it. Ray's had lots of bad luck interacting with the real world. Having spent most of his life indoors, Ray's perception of the world at large (and American society in specific) has been shaped almost entirely by mass media. His "light sensitivity" disease ultimately exposed as a lie, Ray, at eighteen years of age, has been thrust into a world that bears little resemblance to the one he's read about. Ray doesn't know how to drive. Or ride a bike. Ray has never even seen a coin-operated laundry machine. Or a subway turnstile. Ray's never been to the bank. Or church. Ray was startled and impressed to find stand-up urinals in restaurant men's rooms. It earned him a black eye when he remarked, "Wow. Look at that!" as another patron relieved himself. He was a washout as a cashier for a fast-food restaurant because he'd never seen curly fries. Clearly taking a bus downtown to the nearest K-Mart and buying a refrigerator is, for Ray, a major challenge; one fraught with anxiety. [...] At the K-Mart, Ray realizes he has no money. He tries to open a charge account to buy the fridge, but is denied credit because he has no credit history. No one will give Ray a credit card until someone else does. Staring incredulously at the blank-eyed clerk, Ray remarks, "But, yesterday I saved the universe..." The clerk suggests Ray move along.

Once Ray starts working for Vandal Savage, he moves into a luxurious condo with all the amenities, including, presumably, a refrigerator. But even so, the quest for this appliance is such a habit with him that when offered his greatest desire by the demon Neron, the first thing he can think of that he wants is...

(#19)

Besides, Ray knows that the life he's currently living is a sham. He's got a prestigious job and wears fancy clothes and has a rooftop hot tub, but it's all an act to keep him out of the eye of his deadly creation Death Masque. Underneath it all, he's still a nineteen-year-old who still needs to buckle down to the task of furnishing his own first place.

He may technically have a refrigerator now, but at what cost? We don't see the condo's refrigerator in the main timeline, but we get a good long look at it from the inside in a version of 2016 in which forty-year-old Ray has gone evil after letting the power and status of working for (and eventually supplanting) Savage go to his head. By now, the refrigerator is not just a symbol of adult achievement but also of the emptiness of ill-gotten wealth and status. Forty-year-old Ray is too preoccupied with business phone calls to even use the refrigerator himself--this is his girlfriend getting him a soda.

(#25)

Back in the main timeline, Ray, with some intervention from his girlfriend from the future, who has time-traveled back to prevent his going evil, quits working for Savage, which means giving up the condo (and presumably returning to his old place). This is hard for him, because...

(#28)

So by the end of the series, he is just as refrigerator-less as he started. But the refrigerator was never the real point. What he does have is the restoration of his integrity, a more mature and less self-centered outlook, and new connections with a mother and brother he didn't even know he had when he moved into that one-room apartment. What greater signs could there be of finally becoming a real adult?

[invisibleraven]

kissing in dark corners and Sweet Tarts?

Carrie adjusted her dress before stepping into the dark and smoky club-yes she was supposed to be invisible, but she still wanted to look good alright?

She moved through the tables, not catching any eyes, which was the point, to remain unnoticed as she approached the bar.

"Can I have a grasshopper please?"

"I'm out of creme de menthe."

"Bourbon. Neat."

This was the code she had been given-she very much doubted anyone who actually ordered a grasshopper would settle for bourbon, or even want it. She wouldn't be drinking it regardless-she had to stay clear for the mission.

"I like a lady who can handle her liquor," a voice came from her side. Glancing over she saw a man around her age in a neat suit, sipping a Manhattan no0t looking back at her.

"Not my drink of choice, but it's been a week," she said, facing the crowd.

"Want to get a table, unburden on a friendly ear?"

She gave a subtle shake to her head. "Want to be alone, people watch for a bit."

Then she saw the flash of silver-a gun or a badge, gone too quick to be sure. "I think you will want to come with me Miss Wilson."

Fuck she'd been made. The door wasn't far but she didn't have a clear path and she was sure this guy was faster than she was, especially in her heels.

Reluctantly she went to the table, crossing her arms as she sat across from him, trying not to notice how the candles lit up his freckles or his green eyes.

"So you know who I am, care to give me the same courtesy?"

"Agent Reginald Peters, FBI. We found your contact dead about an hour ago. Figured who ever did him in would be after you. I stepped in so we can stop him."

Carrie sat up straighter at that, eyes flying around the room. Nick had been a pro-so whoever capped him was certainly no slouch. This was supposed to have been a simple hand off-she gave him the microfiche, he gave her the cash, done and dusted.

"What are you offering?" she hissed at the agent.

"Protection for now, we can talk deals back at HQ," he said, finishing off his drink. "For now we need to get out of here. And if you try to run-well, I can't do anything for you then doll."

She bristled at the name, but nodded, standing up, leaving her untouched drink sweating on the table. They slipped towards the back when she spied a crew coming in, and swore.

"I know who's after me," she whispered, pushing the agent into the corner. "Covington. Follow my lead."

With that she pulled him in for a kiss, immediately wet and passionate. Praying that the shadows would hide them and public decency would have the goons looking away. Thankfully the agent played along-giving as good as he got.

Pity it was only a play kiss, because he clearly knew what he was doing.

Finally, Carrie saw Covington enter the back room, only one goon left outside, and he was eyeing the waitress more than the room.

"We're good," she said, pulling away, swiping her thumb over the lipstick she had left on his face.

"Yeah we are," he said with a leer, then shook himself at her glare. "Okay, back door, let's go."

They slipped out, and Carrie let him lead her to a cherry red coup, whistling at the sweet ride. "Didn't think G Men made the kinda bank to afford one of these."

"I wasn't always an agent," he replied with a wink, sliding in.

Carrie considered hightailing it away-she knew how to evade Covington by now. It meant burning another alias, changing her looks, but it was worth it.

However-this was a chance to lead an honest life. One where she could just stay Carrie, and maybe help put Caleb away for good. He deserved that much after doing in Nick, and the countless other agents she had known to fall over the years.

So she slid in, and nodded as Reggie revved the engine.

And wondered about the agent next to her. "So are you gonna tell me about this checkered past of yours?"

"Maybe," he said, driving off. "But you'll have to buy me a coffee first."

"I think after that kiss you might owe me the coffee," she snarked.

He laughed at that. "Fair enough. But I think we're both destined for agency swill for the foreseeable future."

"This deal had better be worth it," Carrie stated.

"Maybe I'll throw in another kiss."

And Carrie tried not to blush at the prospect-and the hope that rose when he mentioned it.

[sweetestlamb]

Bring Me To Life

Summary: Kang Sujin has never had anyone to turn to, hiding behind a façade her entire life. Someone begins to peek behind the mask. 

Author’s note: My two favorite characters in TB are Seojun and Sujin, both characters who are honestly treated like trash by the writers. I cannot begin to tell how upsetting it was to see Sujin’s character assassination or how painful it is to watch her being physically abused knowing that the writers will not give her therapy or a true happy ending. She’s just here to be beaten and vilified. Seojun, I won’t even rant everyone knows what the problem is (idk who told them we wanted to see Start-Up the high school edition.) So I wrote this after watching the most recent episode and hating most of it for these reasons. I don’t know how far it’ll go or how often I can update, but I need my two babies to have a happy ending preferably together because the visuals are just a dreammmm. 

The rain crashes down loudly from aggrieved storm clouds bellowing above her in the sky, the chilled condensation plastering her thin satin pajamas to her trembling body. She had to get out, the pain in her cheek numbing and electrifying all at once.

How dare she tell him that she didn't want to get married, want to stand on her own two feet without a man giving her value?

His hand had flown across the room before she could sidestep the blow, the fragile glass filled with water in her hand- the very reason she'd left her room in the dead of night- shattering into jagged pieces as it collided with a greater force. Just like her.

She hadn't been trying to eavesdrop but it was hard not to hear him chuckling deeply on the phone, offering up his only child like she was an item on a menu.

"Yes we should set them up. It seems Suho isn't interested and she should marry young, that's when women are worth the most."

Nausea rolled like waves in the pits of her stomach and before she could think logically, her feet were sprinting into the living room, air barely filling her lungs as she stared at the man she'd never once thought of as a father. The last time she'd made the grave mistake of calling him daddy he'd smacked her so hard that was how she lost her first tooth. He'd been father ever since or Mr. Kang. She tried her best to avoid him at all cost, she would never be good enough and it was getting harder to hide the marks he left behind.

It was difficult to remember clearly what occurred seconds after her refusal to marry a man she didn't know left her lips, his fist connected and she was knocked back onto their coffee table the sharp edge cutting at her cheek. As she looked at him, anger painting his face a demonic red, fear crippled her and her hands twitched desperately wanting to wash them raw. Then he grabbed a thick marble ashtray from the table and her instincts took over and she was out the door, running as fast as she could, knowing her life was at stake and she couldn't afford to stop.

When the cloud in her head cleared that was when she found herself at the bus stop.

Judgmental whispers breeze by her ears as people passed by with umbrellas, shocked to see the young girl crying in her pajamas at the stop, but none stopped to offer her help or inquire about her situation, happy just to pass judgement. She ignores them all, panicking racing through her blood until she's unable to breathe, choking on nothing as she twitches in the harsh air. Her throat constricts as she screams at herself, breathe. 

Breathe.

BREATHE! 

But it's useless as her body shuts down, forgetting how to do the basic function, she sways as she starts to feel light headed from the lack of oxygen and with a final wheeze she collapses. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He signs as he weaves past cars moving far too slowly, adrenaline rushing through his veins as he marginally misses nipping a car to the left of him, easily dragging his motorcycle away with the fluid movements of his body. He glares up at the sky before cursing, "Fucking weather report didn't say anything about a sudden rainstorm." If he'd known he would have stayed home, always hating the rain. It brought back bad memories.

Halting at a red light, he puts his leg down for balance bouncing slightly in place. Pulling the shield up on his helmet he glances around, recognizing the area easily, before something in his peripheral catches his attention, a lump on the ground. Tilting his head he revs his trusty iron steed to live, riding over to the direction of the mysterious mass on the wet ground. As he gets closer his heart falters, it's too evident now. 

It's a person.

Jumping off his bike and pushing out the kickstand he flings his helmet off, his hair immediately drenched under the downpour as he races over to help. As he nears the figure, it becomes clearer it's a woman wearing what looks like sleep clothes. Momentarily he wonders if this is a crazy person and if he should just mind his business but a frightening image of his little sister unconscious on the ground and no one coming to her aid flashes in his mind.

"I'll just check if she's breathing and call an ambulance. That's all, if she tries to attack me I'll just ride away." He takes a deep breath, collecting his courage before closing the gap between him and the unconscious woman.

Crouching beside her, he reaches out a hand hesitating before sighing and shaking at her cold shoulder. No response. He shakes harder now, watching the motion quake through her entire body, but still she is unresponsive.

"Hey! Hey! Are you okay? Wake up, you're scaring me!" He starts to jiggle her with both hands, before he crawls into her space not caring about his safety any longer, the idea that this unknown woman might be dead is making him nauseous. People are always dying without his permission. It's so frustrating.

"Wake up! Come on!" He shouts at the figure now holding both her shoulders and turning the woman over, lifting her face from its place on the ground, cradling her limp body in his lap. After two more vicious shakes, she starts to cough and groan in his arms. Relief swims through his veins as he watches her come back to life, anxiously watching as her dewy long lashes flutter open and he's caught in a lifeless deep gaze.

"Han Seo-Jun?"

It takes a long pause for him to register that the woman has said his name and then a longer moment to recognize who she is.

"Kang Su-Jin?" He replies in genuine shock, taking in the wom--young girl in his arms. She's shivering so violently that it's becoming difficult to hold onto her, vibrating out of his hold before he grips her tighter, whipping off his jacket without second thought and wrapping it around her. Goosebumps raising on his skin as his body mentally berates his lack of survival skills.

"What are you doing here?" She looks at him bewildered as if the stranger occurrence is his presence and not her own.

He squints his eyes looking back at her, "I could ask you the same thing. I found you unconscious here. I thought you were...." He trails off unable to utter the rest of his sentence.

"You should have left me here. Maybe I would have. If I was that lucky."

"What? Are you crazy, you want to die? Did you do this to yourself, what are you on?!" He roars at her, rage flooding his system as he shouts at the stupid girl, how dare she try to kill herself and leave her body for him to find? He wishes he had taken a different route, that he'd never come across her. He was in no state to comfort someone who was suicidal, still too raw and hurt. What was so hard about living that made people want to do that? Hot tears gather in his eyes as he abruptly pulls away from Sujin, unapologetic as she tumbles to the ground without his support.

She starts at him, stunned before righteous fury twists her features and she roars back at him.

"Who are you to judge me! I didn't ask you to help me, leave me alone!"

He glares back at her ready to yank his jacket away and run away from her but a small movement stops him, as she's screaming at him a small muscle twitches in her cheek bringing his attention to said cheek. It's nearly purple, standing out obscenely on her pale skin and then he notices the split lip and the bruises on her neck and he's so ashamed of himself he could bawl.

He deflates before speaking to her, "What happened to your face? Who did this to you?"

He doesn't know what kind of look he has on his face but before his questions can even settle between them she's sneering and twisting away from him, throwing his jacket on the ground before making her escape. Unprepared for her sudden departure he reacts too late, before chasing after her. It's easy to close the distance separating them with his long legs and within seconds she's merely inches in front of him, he reaches out a large hand to grab her wrist but hesitates recalling the bruises littering her frame. Instead he races past her, blocking her with his body swerving to the left and then the right when she tries to dodge him. They play this cat and mouse game before she finally gives up, glaring up at him with moist enraged eyes.

"Why do you care? We aren't even friends!"

Her piercing shout rings in his ears as he looks down at her passively. He can't answer that question, doesn't know what brought him to this area so late and not understanding why he was the one to find her in this condition. He doesn't know why he cares. But maybe things could have been different if Se-Yeon had someone to chase him. Maybe he'd still be alive...

So he answers her honestly.

"I don't want anymore people to die."

To his complete shock she starts to cry, tears falling rapidly from her eyes before she crumples to the ground, the rain pounding on her head and he stands still unsure of what to do before he drapes the jacket he'd rescued from the ground over her head, shielding her from most of the thunderous downpour. When she looks up to see the jacket protecting her, he almost falls backwards as her head slams into his chest, her tears simmering hot on his chilled body. It's almost painfully uncomfortable but he doesn't move away. Letting her cry on his chest, his shirt is soaked anyway this makes no difference.

He doesn't know how long they are crouched there on the ground, so dark that the sidewalk is completely devoid of anyone else, it feels like they are the only two people left on Earth.

"If we stay here you're going to get a cold."

He voices his concern but the only reply he receives is a gross sounding sniffle and he grimaces, knowing that his poor shirt is probably damaged beyond repair covered in snot and tears.

Sighing he starts to repeat himself before she whispers, "I don't have anywhere to go."

"I can take you home." Her fists tighten in his drenched shirt, he can practically feel the fear wafting off her, he'd assumed the marks on her face were from a possessive unhinged boyfriend but her reaction makes him uneasy. He tries to push those unpleasant thoughts to the corner.

"What about your friends? Why don't you call Su-ah or Ju-Kyung, I’m sure they’ll help you.” 

She stiffens in his arms before shaking her head in decline.

"No. I can't let anyone else see me like this. I don't need them looking at me the way you did, like I'm a sad pitiful puppy. I never want anyone look at me like that again."

He can respect that, he never wants to appear weak in front of others. It was easier to become angry and lash out rather than showing your true heart, nobody could hurt you that way.

"Then what? Where do you want to go?"

"I have nowhere to go. I'll stay here until morning. I'll be fine, you can go."

He looks at her dumbfounded, what kind of man would leave a battered woman alone in the rain? He wasn't raised by animals, damn it.

"Let's go." He makes a point not to touch her, their only point of connection are her hands twisted in his shirt.

"What?"

He bulldozes past her confusion, looking at her with what he hopes are comforting eyes.

"I'm taking you to my house. I can't just leave you here."

"Are you crazy? Don't you live with your mother and sister, what will they say?"

He winces at the logical inquiry, he had already considered that himself, thinking of his mother's subsequent smacks and his sister's teasing once they learned what he'd done but still deciding that he has no other choice. He can't just leave her here.

He shrugs, "That's my problem to worry about. I'm not leaving you here, I'd really like to get out of his rain. Let's go." He repeats himself harder, pleading with her.

She looks away and he's prepared to throw her over his shoulders and face the consequences when he hears her response, "Okay. Let's go."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It's a quiet ride back, the engine rumbling through the aching bones of her frozen body. Han Seojun. The last person she ever expected to see after being roused from her panic induced collapse. Her arms tighten around his thin waist as he swerves around a car, adrenaline and fear battling for dominance in her body. When her fingers accidentally brush across wet bare skin she quickly moves her hands higher, fighting the embarrassment that washes over her.

If he notices she can't hear his reaction over the roar of the motorcycle.

When they finally pull up to a small apartment, she loosens her hold on him cracking her frozen digits.

"You didn't need to hold that tightly, I wasn't going to let anything happen to you. I ride this everyday you know."

She doesn't reply focusing on getting off the bike, swinging her leg over and hopping off not graceful but effective, a small proud smile spreads on her face before she gazes back at him.

He stares back before shaking his head, as if lost in a daze before he stomps off for her to follow.

Wordlessly she trails behind him, feeling foolish in her duck pajamas, a gift from Su-ah.

When he pushes his front door open, letting her in first she steps out of her sopping wet house slippers standing awkwardly looking around.

"Stay here. I'll get towels so we don't trail too much water."

She nods at his command, gazing at the floor and seeing how much water is already pooling around her feet.

"Here." He hands her a fluffy pink towel, she raises an eyebrow at the color.

"It's the guest towel. I wouldn't give you my towel."

That makes sense, sharing towels is far too intimate for the relationship they have. That being none. 

She rapidly towels at her hair, before running the towel down her body and wrapping it around her waist.

"You can use the bathroom. It's the second door on the right. I'll bring you dry clothes."

She steps cross the doorway, finally entering his home. Before she turns back to him staring directly into his eyes, "Than.... You didn't have to do this." She loses her confidence but his answering smirk lets her know he understood enough, with that she walks to the bathroom locking herself inside.

The sight of her bruised face in the mirror makes her pause, reaching up to finger at the stark purple mark on her cheek. She's crying before she can control her emotions, tears dripping into the sink as she remembers her night, how close she was to the end despite what she said to Seojun she wanted to live. As her father stood above her ready to snuff her out like a mere nuisance in his life, she realized with a burning passion how desperately she wanted to live.

A soft knock drags her back to reality as she rapidly wipes her tears away.

"I'm leaving clothes by the door. You can come out whenever you're ready. I'm making tea."

When she hears the light steps of his feet moving away from the door she opens the door a crack, picking up the neatly folded pile of clothes. Sending the boy a mental thank you before closing the door quietly.

It's clear that these clothes belong to Seojun, draping off her body, too large for her frame, a black T-shirt with a microphone on the center and sweatpants that cover her feet as well, he'd even remembered to bring her socks. Instantly she feels her body warming as her body temperature returns to normal. 

Folding her wet clothes and splashing water on her face then using the towel to rub it dry, she exits the bathroom walking towards the light she sees assuming that's the kitchen.

"The water's almost done boiling. Sit down."

His deep voice greets her as she follows his orders and takes a seat.

"Are these your clothes?"

"What? Oh yeah they're mine, sorry my sister locked her door. They're very old though, I haven't worn them in years I thought they would fit you better." He eyes her as he says the last sentence, "I guess it didn't make much of a difference I'm just too tall and manly for my own good."

She scoffs at his narcissistic comment rolling her eyes "Tall and manly my foot. You're so skinny I could probably pick you up with one arm."

He immediately turns at her comment, affronted look on his face, "Shut up! It's hard for me to put on weight, I'm not that skinny."

He places his hands on his hips, looking down at himself before puffing his chest out to make himself appear broader, it's so ridiculous that she can't control her reaction.

Sudden uncontrollable laughter.

She laughs breathlessly, folding onto her lap trying to contain her giggles but his scandalized look makes her laugh harder and she has to stuff her face in her elbow to prevent herself from waking his family.

After a few minutes of random spasms of laughter she finally peers back up at him.

He looks just like he did outside when she'd smiled after successively getting off his motorcycle.

"What? What are you looking at?"

"Nothing. I just never see you smile at school."

"Well you never do anything worth smiling about." She quips back, wondering if she'd gone too far but he doesn't reply beyond a slight smile that's gone too fast to even be titled that, he places her steaming cup of tea before her sipping at his own after blowing on it.

They drink in comfortable silence.

She's the first to rapture the silence, "I don't need pity."

"I don't pity yo--"

"But thank you. Thank you for stopping. Thank you for this, thank you."

He stares wordlessly before nodding, a slight blush on his cheeks before he hides his face in the cup of tea. She doesn't bring attention to it.

"You can sleep in my room. It's the door next to the bathroom."

Humming she looks up, fatigue hitting her like a brick at the mention of sleeping.

"Where will you sleep?"

"I have a perfectly good couch, don't argue you're sleeping in my room. That's final. It's better that my mother doesn't see a strange woman on the couch when she wakes up."

Well, she can't argue with that logic.

"Okay." Drinking the last of the soothing beverage, she stands up walking over to place the cup in the sink.

"Good night." She starts to walk back in the direction of the bathroom, seeing another door next to it. Seojun's room. Twisting the doorknob she pushes it open, before she hears his voice from behind her.

"If you need anything I'm right outside."

Blinking her tears away, she nods without looking back, too vulnerable with his palpable concern.

When she lays her head down on his pillow, his scent fills her senses and she falls into a deep restless slumber feeling safer than she has in long time.

Tomorrow will be horrible.

But tonight, she will allow herself to breath easy knowing that someone is on her side.

[starlightxsvt]

Fated

Pairing: Seungcheol x female reader

Genre: mafia/gang au, exes to lovers, action, slight smut

Warnings: cursing, fighting and stuff

A/N: Happy Seungcheol Day everyone! This is for our birthday boy~ I tried to keep it short but it got outta hand so whoops, strap in for the ride. Also, I'll really appreciate it if you took a minute to let me know what you thought about this cuz this took me a looot of time to write and my eyes and hands hurt really bad. Anyway enjoy!

Never in a hundred years did you expect to meet Seungcheol in the club your cousin had invited you all to. She had just returned from abroad and her wedding was taking place the next week hence it was a long awaited get together. Of course she had arranged it in one of the finest clubs in the city, the one you always wanted to visit but your regular plain desk job couldn't really afford.

You first took notice of Seungcheol when you were on your way back from the restroom, him sitting in the back, more secluded area of the club with a glass of whiskey in his hand. His eyes met yours and they went wide like saucers, a look of displease crossing his face, a rather exaggerated expression - you thought. Sure, you two were exes and went through a salty breakup but his expression was rude and brought back unwanted, sad memories. You contemplated on talking to him but he saved you from that. Standing up in a flash, he walked over to you and hissed, "What are you doing here?" His tone made your blood boil and your initial thoughts of being polite to him went down the drain, "Gee, Mr. Choi, I know I'm not someone your worthy but this is a public place and you don't own it!" You snapped at him. His eyes turned dark as he clenched his teeth and spoke, "For fucks sake, what the fuck are you doing here?" His eyes raked over your body covered in a snug deep wine colored dress.

"I'm here for shopping. Why the fuck would I be here Seungcheol?" You spat, clearly annoyed by his behaviour. Seungcheol let out a frustrated sigh, hands combing through his hair as he muttered curses under his breath.

"Listen, you shouldn't be here, Y/n", he spoke trying to calm down and held your arms. "Woah there, Choi, get your hands off me. Who are you to tell me where I should or should not be?"

Seungcheol looked like he could punch someone as he clenched his jaw tight and gave you a look that made your knees weak, "I'm not fucking around, Y/n, you should not be here."

"What the hell Seungcheol? What is your problem? I'm here to attend my cousin's party. And for the record, we're not together anymore so stop interfering in my life."

Seungcheol opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by one of the suited men behind him who murmured something in his ear that only seemed to infuriate him. He turned towards you, "You- fuck, you should not be here. A deal is gonna go down here."

It took you a couple seconds to put two and two together and a sudden wave of agitation passed through you. You whispered, "You're kidding, right?"

Seungcheol was no ordinary man. He was tenacious and confident- too confident for someone who regularly killed people and ran his underworld business. You figured it out during the time you two were together and you didn't try to dig further for your own good.

"You have no idea what-" Seungcheol was interrupted when one of your cousins appeared out of the blue, "Hey Y/n! Where have you-" her voice trailed off when she saw you with Seungcheol and a smirk appeared on her face, "Oops, sorry, I'll leave you two to it." And as quickly as her came, she left, leaving a panicked you and an outraged Seungcheol. "Can you please explain what's going on?" You whispered to Seungcheol in hope of some enlightenment.

"They got Chan, okay? These mother fucking group of traffickers got Chan and asked for a ransom. They're now here for the money."

Oh no. Your heart sank at the mention of Chan's kidnapping, Seungcheol's younger brother. He was always a pleasure to spend time with when Seungcheol left for business for a long time. "That's bad," is all you could mumble as your mushed brain tried to decipher the situation. "Are you gonna give them the money?" Seungcheol scoffed, "Of course not. Those fuckers are long due for jail. Once I get Chan we're gonna blow out their brains."

You gulped. " It's too late to leave for us right?"

"Yes," Seungcheol replied, his lips forming a thin line. He looked past you, probably towards the entry of the bar and quickly shoved you away, "Go to your friends and stay put. When the firing starts hide behind the counter. Only try leave if there's no firing. Otherwise stay put, you hear me?" You nodded your head robotically, mind racing a mile a minute as you walked back to your cousins, trying to appear calm. Every nerve on your body was alert and goosebumps rose on your skin as you watched a man in a flashy white suit walk up to Seungcheol and his guards, followed by a disheveled looking Chan. You felt bad for him, seeing his normally lit face etched with exhaustion. You ignored the comments your cousins made about you and Seungcheol, waiting for things to start. You carefully looked over to the entrance of the bar and sure enough two tall men stood over there. You really had no way out.

And as expected, all of a sudden, loud gunfires echoed through the room followed by people screaming as you and your cousins quickly took shelter behind the bar counter.

"Oh my god what the fuck is happening?"

"Y/n what the hell is your ex doing?"

"You never told us he's a gangster or shit."

You ignored your cousins rather untimely interrogations thinking of a way out. The bar was a mess, broken glass pieces everywhere, the people who came to enjoy all crouched down covering their heads. You heard continuous gunfires, people groaning and bodies slumping on the floor which only made your cousins voice their panic more.

"Shit we're gonna die."

"My wedding is next week, fuck."

Your eyes peered over to the entrance which was now not occupied by any threating looking men as they were busy fighting. You all could've gotten out if it weren't for the continuous firings.

You and your cousins held your breath for a few moments until a particularly loud firing was heard followed by the sound of breaking glass. You spied from behind the counter to see Seungcheol dropping down on the floor with a groan and Chan's scream of his brother's name.

Shit. Seungcheol was shot.

Chan seemed furious, no more exhaustion on his face as he lunged for the man in the flashy white suit and hitting him square in the jaw.

"Guys, now's the chance, get out of here. Go, go."

"What the fuck Y/n? Don't tell me you're gonna stay here."

"We're not leaving you to die in the middle of a crossfire."

"No, guys, I'll be fine. Seungcheol's shot."

"What? I thought you guys weren't a thing anymore-"

"Please, get your asses outta here if you don't wanna die."

Despite their will you pushed your cousins towards the exit with a promise of calling them as soon as you could, while they called you names to point out your less than smart decision and of course your never leaving feelings for Seungcheol. As soon as they were out the door, you rushed over to Seungcheol who sat against the wall, jaw clenched as he held onto his shoulder.

"Y/n what the fuck? Get out of here- why the fuck- ugh, dammit."

"You're shot Seungcheol, maybe stop talking" You applied pressure to his bloody shoulder while Chan who sat atop of the man in the flashy white suit and twisted both his hands back and gave you an incredulous look, "Y/n? Wha- uhm, I thought- you two broke up...?"

"Uh...it's a.... coincidence, I guess. I think we need to get your brother to a doctor, you know" You murmured.

"Yea right," Chan agreed and handed his hostage over to Seungcheol's guard not before punching him in the lower stomach. "I'd kill you but that'd be a mercy. You deserve to suffer, you son of a bitch."

He helped Seungcheol to stand up with you as you both gently took him out of the club and into his limousine, all the while Seungcheol saying that he was alright.

The car ride to his place was quick but silent, except Chan who sat beside the driver once spoke to let you know that it was good to see you. Seungcheol rested his head on your shoulder as he let out uneven breathes and you applied pressure to his wound.

"I guess you... really... can't escape...fate, huh?" He whispered and you frowned at him. "What do you mean?" You asked him but he only replied with a chuckle, his body getting heavier against yours. Your heart ached for the man. You were never over him, you knew that deep down. Hell, your cat even knew that.

Seeing Seungcheol's large mansion again brought back sad memories but you couldn't really focus on them. His servants rushed Seungcheol into the small infirmary of the house where a doctor was waiting.

You stayed outside, anxiously tapping your foot against the marbled floor while quickly typing a message to your cousin letting her know you were okay before putting your phone on mute.

The family doctor appeared with good news, saying his wound wasn't that bad and only a few stitches had it covered. While Seungcheol was transferred to his bedroom, Chan called you to the large dining hall to offer you a glass of water.

"Are you gonna stay the night? Should I set up a room for you?"

"Uh, um, no maybe I'll stay by Seungcheol's side," you replied, avoiding eye contact.

"Sure," was all he said as a smirk took over his lips. We're you really that obvious?

It was past 12 when you decided to peek into Seungcheol's room, after you stole a pair of night suit from his closet which was uncomfortably large for you. You sat by his bed, taking in the way he looked while sleeping. His injured shoulder was casted in a sling and his hand rested over his naked chest. Small scratches were painted over his chiseled face and you lightly stroked them. You relished the bittersweet memories you had with him in this room, from all the romantic nights to the fights. Before you knew, you were asleep.

You woke up to Seungcheol's hand softly stroking your cheek. Your eyes met his and warmth spread on your cheeks. You looked at the clock. It was almost four.

"How do you feel?" You croaked, sitting up from the stool by his bed.

"I'm good." Seungcheol was a strong man. You knew his body had gone through a lot and judging by how he looked, you took his word for it.

"You stayed," he whispered. His face was illuminated by the moonlight coming from the open balcony doors, the face of an angel. You only nodded, transfixed by his beauty, hoping he couldn't see your embarrassed face. "What did you mean by that? The thing you said in the car," you spoke and Seungcheol carefully sat up. He sighed and leaned against the headboard before meeting your eyes. He looked...pained. "I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I never broke up with you because you weren't enough. You were more than anything I ever wanted. I broke up with you because...I was...scared." He swallowed. "Things were not really going according to my plan back then and...this mother fucking gang was threating to harm you. I... couldn't let that happen, Y/n, so...I broke up with you."

You stare at him, incredulous. "You...you have some serious issues, Choi Seungcheol." You whispered. Seungcheol chuckled softly, " You- you mean the world to me. I was so scared something would happen to you if you stayed with me. I know I made an awful decision and I said awful things to you-"

"No shit, Seungcheol, your words weren't exactly the most helpful for my already insecure self." You spat.

"I know, and I'm so, so sorry." He sighed, his head dropping down, "What happened yesterday only proved that I really can't escape fate."

"So you are saying we are fated to be together?"

"Aren't we? I mean, look at us."

You laughed softly before saying, "I'm still mad at you, you know." Seungcheol smiled at you as he took your hand and planted a soft kiss, "You can take out all your anger on me if that means you're gonna give me another chance."

"I'll...have to think about it," was your reply even though you knew your answer. "That's great. That's more than I deserve." Seungcheol mumbled. "Can I hold you?" He softly asked. You scooted closer to him, careful to avoid his injured shoulder as he passed his other hand around your waist. His faces inches away from you, he spoke, "You are the most beautiful thing that happened to me, Y/n and I'm sorry I let you down like that. I promise you, if you give me another chance I'll make it all up to you. I'll make you the happiest woman alive. Come back to me, baby."

You gulped feeling emotional as you replied, "Okay but you need to get well first you know." Seungcheol's eyes bored into yours, his chocolate orbs getting more intense by the seconds before he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was soft and short before he pulled back to assess your reaction. When you didn't resist, he pulled you in for a messy, hot kiss that left tingles all over your body. Before you knew it, you were in his lap, tugging at his hair as he nipped across your neck and shoulders. There was no way this wasn't gonna end up with you underneath him if you didn't stop him. "Seungcheol...stop it. You're hurt."

"I could have half of my body ripped open and still not resist you baby, you are divine."

"Uhm, that's concerning but okay. Why don't we get some sleep now?" You pulled back from him and a pout took over his face.

"You are seriously not thinking about having sex right now, are you?"

"Why not? It has been so long and I miss you."

"I get it horny boy but no. How about we cuddle now and when you are fully healed you can keep me in your bed all day."

A devilish smirk took over his face that made you squirm, "Is that a promise sweetheart?"

You nodded shyly before gently lying on his uninjured arm and wrapping a hand around his torso. Damn, it felt good.

Seungcheol kissed the top of your head as you snuggled closer. He whispered, "Promise me you'll stay."

"I will," you smiled.

"Unless my cousins find my location and drag me out of here tomorrow."

[girlpornparadise]

The Caged Bird Moans (pt 1)

Pairing: Diego Jimenez/f!Reader (Power - Starz)

Word Count: ~2600

Warnings:  It's a bit Stockholm syndromey, but that's not a real thing anyway (look it up). Not exactly non-con, but it skirts the idea, so if power disparities aren't your jam, please move along. It just real dirty. SMUT!

Personal ramble: Would anyone actually react like this to the situation I've set forth? No. But just as the pizza guy is never hot and doesn't offer you his extra sausage, this is porn people! So suspend your disbelief and don't hate on me for my bullsh*t.

I also wrote all this nonsense a week ago before I read anything from the lovely @1zashreena1 , @heresathreebee or @nicke0115 so sorry if it looks similar, I swear it's a coincidence.

"Ouch", you think to yourself but instead swallow the pain. Your arm hurts under the firm grasp of the thug dragging you from the elevator into the spacious penthouse.

"Be careful with that." Says a commanding voice from across the room.

The grip loosens, but he's still using your momentum to force you forward. You stumble, unsure of just how much danger you are in.

As you take in your surroundings the owner of the voice turns around and approaches you. He looks you up and down, examining you like a prize he had won.

"We can't afford to damage her." He states plainly, looking at the man still holding you in place.

As he examines you, you examine him right back. Whereas he is doing it in an obvious way, head nodding to rake his eyes over you, you move your eyes only, unable to control your body in this moment. You follow the carefully polished boots up past the fitted black jeans to the black buttoned up shirt with the slight sheen to it, that accentuates his frame. Everything is obviously expensive and very deliberately chosen. As your eyes settle on his face, a recognization dawns on you. Diego Jimenez. One of the heads of the Jiminez cartel. His reputation was well known to you. An unstable, merciless man whose penchant for partying made him a big name in certain circles. You were scared before, but now your body goes rigid with fear and your gaze hits the floor with force.

Though you're no longer looking at him directly you can sense his smugness and satisfaction at knowing you are now showing the appropriate amount of fear for the situation you're in. Maybe it's your hind brain telling you you are in the presence of an apex predator. Maybe it was the clipped snort he let out, tinged with amusement as he nodded with approval.

After what feels like an eternity, but was probably mere seconds, he speaks again.

"Take her to the guest room." He orders the man still firmly gripping your arm. "Lock this little bird in her cage."

Dragging you again, this time down the hall, Diego's orders are followed to completion. You are practically thrown into the room as the door slams shut behind you.

You stumble, catching yourself on the bed. You collapse onto it as tears prick your eyes and subsequently fall down your cheeks. You begin to sob, but muffle it in the covers, assuming someone is standing guard outside and not wanting to seem even weaker in such an intense situation. But the tears flow freely as the shock of what's happened slowly wears off and you begin to process the details of your abduction.

You hadn't grown up in this world, though your ties to it were strong. You were part of the Bennet family, a rival cartel, headed by your grandfather. He insisted you grow up distanced from this world. A world of violence and cruelty. A world of drugs and guns and transactions ending in death. Based on your current reaction, you couldn't help but think maybe it was because you're so weak. Both you and he knew it was true, you were too soft to be a part of the business, too kind to do what would be required of you. So he kept you away, from his city and his dealings and all of the darkness that came with it.

You were in town for a rare family visit when you were taken without warning, snatched from the street at gunpoint. They were able to do it without drawing attention, entirely professional, and you complied with their every demand as a sense of terror ripped through you.

And now here you were, trapped by a barbarous stranger who could end your life at any moment without a second thought.

As you wore yourself out from crying, you began to take in the room, determined to get your bearings. It was sparsely decorated, obviously the work of a man unattached. It was also immaculately clean, obviously the work of his maid. As your breathing slows and your senses sharpen, you become aware that the comforter you are still on top of is plush and expensive, like the kind found at a swanky hotel.

Curiosity returning with your senses, you walk over to the window that stretches from floor to ceiling and take in the impressive view of the city. If the long elevator ride weren't a clear enough indicator, the view tells you that you are in the penthouse of a very upscale building.

Next to the window is a large bathroom and you walk in. You splash cold water on your face and dry it on one of the plush towels. You can't help be momentarily amused by how well stocked the room is with soaps and lotions. There were definitely worse places to be trapped. Was this the definition of a gilded cage?

As you settle down, you take off your shoes and sit back down on the bed. You're exhausted to your core, and you sink into the mattress, wanting to disappear. You want to keep your wits about you, alert and on guard, but instead the stress combined with the late hour forces you to sleep.

You are woken up abruptly the following morning when the door swings open and you are literally dragged out of bed by the same man as yesterday. 

You're a bleary eyed, rumpled mess and the same fear and pain shoot through you as you remember where you are and how you got there. Your breathing is shallow as you try not to panic.

You've been dragged before Diego who is standing imposingly before you, hands clasped in front of him, chin slightly upward so he can look down his nose at you.

He examines you once more and you can tell he's disgusted by what he sees.

"Get our guest something to wear." He barks. "And get her something to eat. We can't bargain if she's broken."

As he turns away from you to resume whatever you interrupted, you catch the flash of the gun in his waistband and the fear settles once again in the pit of your stomach.

You are escorted back to the room forcefully and your mind is racing. You know everyone who comes through the penthouse is armed to the teeth and there's no chance of escape. You're not just weak, you're helpless. You assume you're being held for some kind of ransom, probably territory or resources as opposed to money, and you silently pray that a deal for your release is struck quickly so this nightmare can be over.

Soon after, the door opens and a housekeeper enters carrying a couple of bags of clothes. She doesn't look you in the eye and you wouldn't know what to say to her anyway. 

Once she has left, you rummage through the clothes. There's nothing there you'd pick for yourself, but you settle on a white fitted t-shirt and jeans. You carry them with you into the bathroom along with a handful of drugstore makeup you find in the bottom of the bag.

You look at yourself in the mirror and the reason for Diego's revulsion becomes clear. Your clothes are wrinkled and creased and your mascara is smudged under your eyes. You lock the bathroom door behind you, strip down and take a shower. The running water calms you and once you finish you get dressed and approximate your normal makeup routine with what you have. If you're going to put on a brave front, you need to be as put together as possible.

When you emerge from the bathroom a tray of breakfast is waiting on the nightstand next to the bed. Eggs sunny side up and toast, simple and straightforward. You devour it greedily since you haven't eaten since lunch yesterday.

The day passes with 2 more meals brought to you by the same housekeeper at the appropriate intervals. In the absence of your phone, you distract yourself with mindless TV on the rather large set opposite the bed. You don't take in much as you think about your predicament and then try to force those thoughts of the worst case scenario from your mind.

Your sleep that night is restless.

You are brought before Diego once again in the morning, shortly after you wake. 

This time you are allowed to walk under your own power, though your legs feel wobbly and your feet unsure as you approach him.

You're wearing a cotton t-shirt and shorts,  the closest thing you could find to pajamas. As he looks at you, you become painfully aware that you're not wearing underwear, his eyes seeming to stop at all the places where it should be.

You are at least able to look at him and take in more this time. He's clad in a similar black button up shirt and black jeans as yesterday, a uniform of sorts to convey his status. His hair is neatly cut and accentuates his angles, sharp jaw and well placed cheekbones. His greying facial hair gives him some earned distinction and his expression is hard and deliberate to elicit a specific reaction of fear. Through the careful tailoring of his shirt you can see that his body is sturdy and muscular. His tense posture using his frame to his advantage, making him seem larger than he actually is. You know to fear him, but he may be the most attractive man you've ever seen in real life.

He obviously cultivates an aura of power, and you can't help but be drawn to him as an Alpha Male. As you steel yourself, you dare to look him in the eyes. His eyes are cold but impossibly magnetic and you can't look away. He's looking back at you now, into you. Your heart forgets how to beat in rhythm and you swallow thickly.

He sees your fear and is clearly amused by it.

"Breakfast will be ready soon. You should go take a shower." He says, his lips curling upwards. 

"I, I was going to." you stammer.

"Good girl." It comes out as almost a purr and sends a shiver down your spine.

This time it's Diego, not his associate who accompanies you back to the bedroom. His hand is hovering above the small of your back, ushering you forward while maintaining a small distance. You enter the room and the lock clicks behind you.

You turn to see that he's still in the room and with his gaze set upon you, you begin to back away towards the bathroom,  afraid to turn your back on him. This was clearly his intended effect.

You expect him to leave, but he's doing the opposite. He is stalking forward. Your heart is pounding out of your chest and your uneven breathing becomes gulping for air.

As he closes the gap between your bodies, he repeats his suggestion. "You should go take a shower." It's not a suggestion though, it's a command.

He leans in. "Go on." His lips are close enough to your ear that his breath catches in your hair.

His thick body is now urging you through the bathroom doorway by its approach. You back through it, still transfixed by his gaze. 

You glance side eyed to your left at the shower that takes up the far wall. It's one of those large walk-in showers with a stone floor and a rain showerhead. It suddenly seems less like a shower and feels more like a trap about to spring shut.

"Take off your clothes." He says. He's not asking.

You gulp, your eyes have gone wide at the demand.

"Take. Off. Your. Clothes." He repeats in a tone that is both amused and losing patience. He raises his eyebrows slightly as he says it.

You look away, ashamed, and slowly and nervously acquiesce. You stand before him completely naked and try to avert your gaze. You are drawing your body inward, trying to conceal yourself in any way you can.

"Turn on the water." he says with his wicked smile widening.

You turn on the shower and wait for it to warm. It dawns on you that there's no shower curtain to protect you or glass wall to hide behind. You are fully exposed and will remain so.

You step under the water, unsure of what to do next. You'd obviously showered hundreds of times, but this wasn't a shower. It was a show.

"Wash yourself." His voice is quieter, more of a harsh whisper.

You grab a washcloth and pump the foaming body wash onto it. You rub it on the back of your neck and slowly work your way down to your shoulders. Your nerves have subsided a little as the water washes over your skin.

He's mesmerized by the motion of your hands and you drag the washcloth across your collarbones and down to your breasts, where you languidly rub them with the cloth as well as your free hand.

Your nipples harden at your own touch. He notices and his tongue drags over his bottom lip. You close your eyes in an attempt to momentarily escape.

When you open your eyes you notice him shift his weight and catch a glimpse of the shift in his muscles under his shirt. You get a rush as you feel the power dynamic shift slightly. You are slow to rub the washcloth down your legs and you arch your back slightly as you bend over, purposely sticking out your ass more than you naturally would. 

His eyes are dark with lust and you can feel the warmth radiating from between your own legs.

"Rub your clit." He says, reclaiming his power.

You look at him with shocked eyes and your eyebrows knit.

"You heard me." he says. "I won't ask again." His head tilting slightly.

You put the washcloth aside and tentatively slide your middle finger between your thighs to your bundle of nerves. You notice how wet you already are and using gentle pressure you begin to rubbing in circles.

You close your eyes and swallow as your walls contract and release. Your breathing gets heavier and heavier until you're panting. Panting and touching yourself for this fixated man. 

"Cum for me." He demands. "I need to see you cum." 

You think to fake an orgasm. To end this little game he's playing, but it's too late. Your finger presses harder on your clit and you tremble as the real thing rips through you. You close your eyes and cry out with abandon.

When you regain yourself you look at him. You are raw and exposed and at your most vulnerable. His mouth is in a wide smile and his eyes gleam with satisfaction. 

He reaches out to you, towel in hand. You steady yourself, turn off the water, and take the towel from him. You wrap it around yourself, suddenly panged with shame at how readily you revealed your most intimate self to this menacing stranger. Your posture closes, and reflects your return to shyness.

"Good girl." He says, and you feel the words like honey dripping in your ears.

He turns and leaves, his confident stride drawing your attention to how his jeans hug his perfect behind. 

You dry yourself off and as you get to your inner thighs you're reminded of how wet you are. How wet you are for him. You want to blame the shower, but you know the truth. You're spellbound by this man, and god are you in trouble.