#that delayed muscle soreness is a bitch

[eventide-imp]

I am in so much pain this morning jfc

[starfirewildheart]

I am so sorry for the delay. RL has been in my face and also writers block has been a bitch!

Chapter 14

Scars and Souvenirs

Summary: Sy and his lady both retire from the army but not before tragedy befalls Sy. He slowly tries to adjust to life again on their ranch.

Pairing: Sy / OFC

Word count: 3,131

Rating: mentions of war; being a POW, death, talk of trafficking, forced prostitution and assult.

Sy looked around his kitchen, which quickly had become their war room. He looked at his four friends, his four brothers at Arms, four of the five people he could always count on. He knew no matter what, these people would be there for him. This was his Special Forces Unit - Black Ops. They did missions under the radar, things not many people could do.

Farthest to his right was a younger man with curly brown hair, tall build, piercing blue eyes. To any normal person he would look completely unsuspecting and innocent. This man was Will Shaw. Will's family was CIA. He came into it naturally. Will was their cleaner. He would go in after every mission and make sure everything was cleared so there was no evidence against the unit or anything that could trace back to anyone. 

To Will's left was another tall, well-built man with sleek, dark hair, piercing blue eyes and high cheekbones. A man who always dressed very dignified, usually in a three-piece suit. That is unless he was in fatigues or Mission attire. This man was Napoleon Solo. Napoleon was the finder. Any artifact, any information, any person, any lost item, Napoleon was the one that found it. He could find anything. 

To his left stood another tall well-built man with what Sy lovingly called a porn stash. This mustached man with dark hair and also with piercing blue eyes was August Walker. August was the true definition of a spy; it's the work he loved most. August wasn't afraid to get dirty, he wasn't afraid to blur the lines between black and white and sometimes he lived in such a dark gray area that it made the others uneasy. Walker could be a petulant asshole, he could be stubborn, bullheaded and even arrogant but he always had your six. 

Next to him stood the man that Sy felt was the big brother he'd never had. Of course he felt that all the men were his brothers but there was a bond that he had with Geralt that was hard to explain. He could see Geralt as almost a father figure, a big brother, a guide, a mentor. Grealt was muscle and so much more.. He was the leader, the planner. Geralt knew things instinctively that sometimes the other guys missed. He was a master at defence and weaponry and could be diomatic when he needed to be and was not afraid to step in between any of them when they were fighting. He was menacing but had a heart of gold.

Then of course there was Sy himself. Sy was the calm head, the planner, the leader. He kept things cool and calm. He kept everyone on task. Sy was the muscle, he was the one that wasn't afraid to go in and put his life in danger. He would lead them and do anything in his power to keep them safe. 

These are the men Sy trusted with his life, with Debbie's life. These are the men that were going to go in and help him save her.  They were all dressed in black, their faces covered with black paint black and gray paint, armed to the hilt. Guns of every kind and size. They had flash bangs, grenades, everything they needed to go in quietly or to make a big noise if need be. 

Sy glared at August as the man rubbed his sore jaw. had punched him. August tried to insist that Sy stay behind when they went on this mission. He tried to say that Sy would be a liability because they were going to get his girlfriend. It made Sy vulnerable and it made him one track minded so to speak. He didn't want Sy to get hurt but, being August he didn't phrase it the way. He said that Sy would be a liability and needed to stay in the surveillance truck with Shaw. Sy took offense. He told August that he was full of shit. He was going in to get Debbie with or without them then punched August in the jaw. Needless to say August didn't like that one bit and a scuffle ensued. Geralt of course stepped between them and scolded them like they were young kids fighting over the last piece of candy. Needless to say It was decided that Sy would indeed be going. 

Geralt knew that there was some logic to what August said but he knew Sy was a professional through and through. It was what would happen after the rescue that Geralt was worried about. What they found would likely crush the man and it would be up to his Brothers to rally around them until they could pick up the prices. 

It was two a.m., time to head put. They all loaded into the box truck that had been fitted with the surveillance equipment and they're coms where Will would be staying while the mission was taking place. He would guide them via the cameras that they had hacked into that were in the building using earwigs. 

Walter, who hadn't been happy about being left out of the mission, met them at the predetermined location. He was to help Will in the surveillance van then notify authorities at the right time. Walt would be given full credit for taking down the S17's local trafficking ring, not that he was concerned with credit. He was pissed at first when Sy told him he  couldn't go but after a long conversation about how Sy didn't want Walt to have any blood on his hands and not wanting to endanger his shared custody of Fay if anything went wrong during the mission he reluctantly agreed.

They parked the box truck out of sight and moved to a position at the back gate tgat was not under any surveillance where they cut through the metal fence and the barbed wire to get inside. Once they had breached the door into the building they encountered guards and had to take a few of them out, which they did silently to not draw attention to themselves. The others were subdued with zip ties around the wrists and ankles and injected with sedatives before height hidden out of sight. 

Moving silently as a team, each clearing every doorway, every hallway or every possible spot for someone to be hiding. Will follows their steps on camera from the surveillance van telling them which way to turn and the quickest way to get to where they believed that Debbie and Mike were being held. They were able to avoid a lot of people in the hallways thanks to Will's guidance with the cameras. However they did meet face-to-face with a few people here and there. Did their best to subdue them but would use deadly force whenever necessary. They moved with stealth like skills as August and Sy simultaneously snapped the necks of two guards and Solo stabbed under the chin dropping him silently to the ground. 

It seemed like it was taking forever to clear their route but in truth they had only been in the building for under five minutes when they reached the room they thought Debbie and Mike were being held in. 

Cautiously they breached the door and stepped inside and were instantly hit with horrible smells they all knew too well. Smells that happened when someone was held prisoner and tortured. The smell of urine and blood filled the air and the copper and ammonia  scents made their nostrils burn and eyes water.

The room was solid concrete with a drain in the center of the concrete floor.  In the right,back corner Mike was curled into a ball,, hugging his knees to his chest rocking repeatedly muttering, “No, please, no! No more!” His hands and feet were bound tightly with plastic zip ties wrenched so tight that his hands and feet were turning blue and the skin was bloody and raw. Solo and August went to acces him.

Sy's heart pounded and constricted when he saw Debbie. She was hanging by her arms from a metal pipe, feet barely touching the floor. She was bloody and battered. Her face was swollen, both eyes blacked, nose and mouth bloody. Her shirt had been cut open and was hanging off her body and shreds her bra was cut open as well. Her skin was a myriad of bruises, burns and gashes. Her wrists were bloody from the metal cuffs she was hanging from. The skin on her neck was red  raw and different shades of blue and purple like they'd tried to hang her.

Sy and Geralt went straight to her. Sy began accessing her injuries as Geralt worked freeing her from the cuffs. “No!” She rasped, her voice gone at this point as she struggled and kicked out at them with one leg. “Get away from me!” She bit at the nearest skin near her which was Geralt’s arm.

“Fuck!” He hissed quietly.

“Deb it's me, shhh. Darlin’ It's me,” Sy told her. “We're here to get you baby.”

She burst into tears at the sound of his voice. He was here for her. “Told them you would come,”  she whispered before losing consciousness.  

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[sunspray-peak]

Ch. 61: Dreams Delaying

TUESDAY - WINTER 16

The past few days had felt like a dream.

True to his word, the evening after Elliott’s book reading Achilles had purchased two center orchestra seats for Persephonopolis and had made a reservation at the third nicest restaurant in Zuzu City (third because he didn’t want to go too overboard on Date #2). 

Alex had indeed found a tie, though by covering nearly the whole damn thing with a burgundy quarter zip, he hadn’t been quite as overdressed as Achilles—who had fully committed to their “fancy” theme—had anticipated.

Well. Alex had at least liked his suspenders. He supposed the compliment was a worthy enough consolation prize for sticking out like a sore thumb at the Grannis Theater—half the folks sitting around them were wearing sweatpants. Sweatpants! And in such a lovely auditorium, too—pastel murals of Grecian figures had adorned the ceiling, and ornate floral carvings trimmed in gold and sage green had greeted them as they took their seats of cushioning plush. 

It wasn’t the splashiest spectacle of musicals—a little dark, more than a little sad—but the music was good and the set and lighting design extraordinary. And Alex had been bright-eyed throughout, had jumped to his feet, cheering like a child the moment curtain call began, so it was clear he had enjoyed it enough, which was really all anyone could have wanted. They’d grabbed some late night ice cream before taking the bus back. Achilles had walked him home. It’d been a good night. 

And late Tuesday afternoon, during the tail end of the work day, Achilles had popped over to Zuzu again. His excuse had been to sign up for a membership with Orange Grove, after allegedly having forgotten to the previous day, but Alex had seen clear through him. 

“You’re never going to use this, you hate working out in front of other people.” 

“Maybe I’m signing up to make your numbers look good, ever thought of that, Mr. Manager?” 

Alex only laughed as Megan, who was manning the front desk today, snapped Achilles’ photo. 

“But you picked our most expensive plan,” she couldn’t help but remark as she glanced at his freshly printed, iridescent membership card before handing it to Achilles. He straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the counter and slipped it into his wallet before pointing a thumb at Alex’s turned back.  

“Oh did I? Guess that’s just how much I care about this bitch’s numbers.” 

Though perhaps he was doing too much… Then again, even before they’d been dating, they had seen each other practically every day—there was nowhere else to go in that regard, so surely what he was doing now, the “extra”of it all, was only natural. Only expected. What more else could he do? He wanted to be supportive. Really, it was just a natural part of the transition from friends to… whatever the hell they were right now. Right?

And besides, what else was Achilles doing with his life these days? Why not get out of town for a bit. Spend money. He’d nothing else better to do…  

Don’t think about that. 

It’s not like he was just aimlessly loitering, waiting around for Alex. He’d brought a book. He’d brought a notebook. He had taken care not to distract Alex—who, outside of teaching the occasional class, now spent most of his time in the back office—from his job, though there were only a few minutes left in the work day, anyway; he had timed his visit well, Alex would be heading to the pool soon. He had planned to read and keep Alex company for a couple hours while he trained.

Legs pulled tightly against his chest, Achilles found himself sitting atop one of three lounge recliners once 5:10pm hit. The white fluorescent lights above were nice and bright, and he managed to get through a good portion of his book, but even so, his eyes were repeatedly drawn away from the pages in his lap to the muscled figure in the water.

Just like back in the Summer out in the Gem Sea, it was almost meditative watching him swim—Alex was obviously no amateur; he moved with a seasoned, steady strength and confidence that Achilles could never hope to replicate, arms smoothly slicing freestyle through the water like a hot knife through butter. 

At the opposite end of the pool, he saw Alex pause, chest heaving. He gripped the wall with one hand and lifted his goggles with the other as his coach bent down to speak with him.

Achilles followed their gazes to the massive digital clock on the opposite wall. 49.93 seconds. Not bad. Not bad at all. He knew Alex was hoping to get below 49 by the end of next summer. 

But he found that his vicarious thrill was dulled by something a little more sour, a little more grey; he should’ve been excited, seeing Alex’s obvious joy in finally being able to make strides towards his goals, but instead, Achilles couldn’t help but feel… wistful.  

Selfish. 

He shoved the feeling aside and forced himself to return to his book, though he found himself reading the same sentence twice more than an occasional time. 

But afterwards, in the empty locker room, he’d forgotten his melancholy. He’d tousled Alex’s damp hair, and Alex had kissed him on the cheek, and together they had ridden the bus back to the Valley and he had once more felt like gold. 

Yes, the past few days had felt like a dream. A good dream—a great dream! Yes, he had been feeling great. Feeling absolutely amazing. Feeling better than he had all year. 

Until he didn’t.

[candyflosstoxicity]

Wanna Be Your Setting Lotion

Endeavor x Black!Reader

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI. Power imbalance. Unsafe sex. Creampie. Breeding kink. Breath play. Pain play.

Despite the sizable uptick in his popularity after triumphing over the High-End Nomu, Enji still felt that his ability to relate to the everyday civilians was sorely lacking. There was still some doubt amongst the masses that he could be a suitable replacement for All Might. As much as that stung his ego, Enji knew that their misgivings weren’t unfounded.

He had promised his son that he would become a hero that he could be proud to call his father, and that meant more than just saving lives. Enji had to work to build a relationship with the public, and be a hero that was not only powerful, but approachable and relatable.

So, with his secretary’s assistance, Enji reached out to the most highly recommended media relations agency in Musutafu and requested that they pair him with a very particular type of publicist. He made sure to specify that they had to be thick-skinned and prepared to undertake all the work that would come with being the publicist to the number one hero. Though he had certainly made some important changes within himself, he still didn’t know how to talk to people and didn’t want to send the publicist running for the hills.

That was how you ended up standing outside the Endeavor Hero Agency. The glass skyscraper gleamed brightly under the sun, and really impressed upon you that this was happening. You had been assigned your first hero, but not just any run of the mill hero and it honestly had you feeling nervous in a way that you never had before. It’s not as if you doubted your ability to manage and improve the Flame Hero’s public image, but this was a major assignment that could either launch your career into the stratosphere or sink it like a stone.

After taking a few deep breaths to steady yourself, you walked briskly through the front entrance and into the main lobby, where you were greeted by the receptionist. You explained who you were and what you were there for, and she immediately hopped up from her desk in a panic and hastily led you to the elevator. It did nothing to quell your anxiety, because if his receptionist was losing her cool, what chance did you have against the man?

Upon reaching the top floor, the receptionist all but shoved you out of the elevator, giving you a hasty “good luck” while frantically pushing the button to close the door. You stumbled forward and were faced with a large, hardwood door. Having decided that you simply could not delay your assignment any further, you squared your shoulders, took decisive steps forward, and knocked on the door.

---------------------

That was several months ago, and you could say with hindsight that you were right to be anxious. While working for Endeavor was the best way to cut your teeth as a publicist, the man himself was...something fucking else.

It wasn’t just that he was physically intimidating, with his towering height and mountains of muscle. Honestly, you were able to quickly get past that and start working towards building a friendly, yet professional relationship with your boss. Except, he was the most tight-lipped, awkward person you had ever dealt with when he wasn’t in the process of saving lives. And when he was actually somewhat talkative, he was so intense that it left you flustered.

However, Enji always treated you with respect and courtesy, and when you did well, he told you as much. Heat would crawl its way from the top of your head to the tips of your toes whenever he would tell you, “You’ve done excellent work this week, (L/N)-san. Your efforts are appreciated.”

To anyone else and coming from anyone else, it might not mean much, but Todoroki Enji wasn’t just anyone. He had high standards for all of his employees, and you were no exception. Praise from him was hard to come by, and when it was directed at you, it made you feel some type of way.

It was obvious to everyone with a pulse that Enji was an incredibly attractive man. Indeed, every interview you scheduled for him with a female journalist found him being inundated with coy smiles, flirting, and pointed questions about his relationship status.

To be fair, you had asked him the same question, but only because it was important for you to know as the person who handled all of his public relations. It definitely wasn’t because you were lusting after your client and hoping that he was free to maybe, someday, knock your walls down.

Still, you had always prided yourself on being the consummate professional, so you refrained from asking any questions that were too personal. Even though you were so often alone with Enji in his penthouse office, with little to no interruption, and a lot of plush furniture he could fuck you on…

You shook your head sharply, your dark, curly hair moving with the motion. ‘Focus, bitch. Don’t be a goofy and try to fuck your boss. He would probably fire your ass before you could ask for a crumb of dick.’

It didn’t matter if you hadn’t gotten laid since you started working as his publicist; you were NOT going to fuck Todoroki Enji.

Little did you know, Enji was enduring his own share of suffering and sexual frustration. And he had no intentions of denying himself. For him, it was simply a matter of opportunity.

--------------------------

It was finally Friday evening, and Enji was more than ready for the weekend. After a solid week of double patrols, while squeezing in PR appearances that you had set up for him, he just wanted to sit down in his recliner at home and have a stiff drink. He was sitting at his desk with his laptop open, finishing up some last minute paperwork on a report he needed to submit to the Hero Public Safety Commission by Monday.

Just as he put the final signature on the last page, you came bursting through his office door, without knocking, of course. Not that he minded; it was always a treat to see you, even if you were a bit...distracting. Your shapely legs carried you briskly towards his desk and he couldn’t help but admire how enticing they looked sheathed in your sheer stockings. He almost missed what you were trying to tell him, too busy imagining them wrapped around his waist.

“Endeavor-san, I’m sorry to disturb you right before quittin’ time, but I just finalized the details of your appearance on Present Mic’s late night radio show for next weekend,” you chirped with no small amount of satisfaction. Ah, right; Enji had agreed to make time for that, considering Mic was very popular with the young crowd and an appearance on his show would do wonders for his popularity with that demographic.

“He promised to keep it light and casual, and most of the time block will be spent playing some music that you both enjoy. I cross-referenced his playlist with the list you compiled, and y’all have some bangers in common. We’ll need to go over your note cards again, but I’m sure you’ve got that part covered by now.”

Your eyes were focused on the folder in your hands, flipping through the papers there as you went over the last minute details. Enji’s eyes were watching you, though, and he found himself struggling to give a damn about Present Mic or his radio show. Not when you were standing before him, a radiant vision of smooth brown skin and a halo of curls. How badly he wanted to sink his fingers into them and tug your head back, make you submit to him…

“Endeavor-san, are you listening?”

The question coming from your pretty lips, in that sweet, but sharp voice, was enough to finally get his attention. He tore his gaze from your petite frame and looked up to see your dark brown eyes staring at him sternly. Enji coughed and shifted in his chair, trying to subtly adjust his now rock hard dick.

“My apologies, (Y/N), I’m a bit worn out from this week,” he hastily assured you. “If you wouldn’t mind emailing those notes to me, I will look over them again this weekend.”

Your expression softened and you tossed the folder onto his desk before walking around to the side and perching yourself on the edge. Enji could practically feel the blood rush to his dick with you sitting so close to him, the scent of your perfume immediately clouding his mind. Your already short skirt rode up even higher and he had to force himself to look you in the eye, which he regretted shortly after.

“Have I been riding you too hard, sir?”

Enji’s eyes narrowed slightly at you, thinking that you must be toying with him. But, your face was devoid of cunning, and you seemed genuinely concerned for his well-being. He wasn’t used to that kind of consideration from really anyone, especially not one of his employees.

“No, far from it. You probably take it a bit too easy on me, but you still produce amazing results. I would be completely clueless about this public relations crap if I didn’t have someone as bright and clever in my corner,” Enji rumbled, almost bashfully, the tips of his ears still pink from your accidental innuendo.

He had no way of knowing, but the feeling that Enji’s praise gave you was like a shot of adrenaline to you. Warmth bloomed in your cheeks, and you quickly began stuttering and trying to downplay your contribution. However, Enji was having none of it and reached out to grab your anxiously fluttering hands, which had the desired effect of shutting you up.

But, Enji didn’t stop there. He was tired of you not giving yourself enough credit. More than that, he was tired of only being able to show his gratitude in words. So, he took advantage of your size difference and tugged you into his arms and then settled you on his right thigh, forcing you to straddle the muscular appendage.

“E-Endeavor-san?!” you squeaked out. Your tiny hands were encased in his much larger ones and even that small bit of skin to skin contact was enough to set a fire low in your belly.

“Please, call me Enji. It seems a bit formal considering the things I want to do to you.”

“And what exactly do you want to do to me, Enji?” Your voice was low and breathless, but he could see the excitement clearly in your deep brown eyes.

He released your hands and let his own wander down the curve of your sides to settle on your hips. Still maintaining eye contact with you, he engulfed the soft flesh there with a gentle, but firm squeeze. You gasped softly and instinctually ground down against the flexing muscles of his thigh.

Enji growled lowly in his throat and took one hand off your hip, and reached up to bury it in the soft curls that framed your gorgeous face. At first, he gently massaged the scalp with his fingertips, but when he felt you relax, Enji used the curls at your nape to tug your head back.

He loved how small you were in his arms, how easily he towered over you and controlled your movements. And there you were, gasping and squirming in his lap, letting him touch you in such a dominating way. It stoked a fire within him that he hadn’t felt in a long while, urging him to make you fall apart under his touch.

“There are so many things that I want to do to this tight, little body,” Enji whispered against your throat. He placed a heated kiss there, followed by a gentle nip before continuing, “But, for now, I want you to ride my thigh.”

To his delight, you didn’t hesitate to start meekly rolling your hips forward, your skirt bunching up around your waist with the motions. Still, you seemed to be holding yourself back, and he was having none of that. Using the hand that was still gripping your hip, Enji forced you to press down harder and move faster. Getting the message, you braced your palms against his broad, solid chest and began grinding against him in earnest.

The filthy moans you let spill from your plump lips were music to Enji’s ears, and he struggled to refrain from just ripping your stockings off and sliding your down onto his aching dick. There would be plenty of time for that later, but in that moment, he wanted to make you felt just how appreciated you were.

“Come on, little sparrow, I know you’re close. I can feel you soaking my pants leg.”

The desperation and desire in his voice drove your lust even higher. That, combined with the friction of your nylon stockings against your bare pussy, had you teetering on the edge of release.

“Please, sir!” You didn’t know what you were asking for, but he seemed to. And he was going to make you beg for it.

“Please what?”

“I...I want you to fuck me, sir! Please let me cum on your dick,” you pleaded with a breathless whine, never ceasing your wanton grinding.

“Oh, you will be cumming on my dick. But, first, you’re going to make yourself nice and sloppy for me.”

Enji gripped your hair tighter and pulled your head back until your spine arched. Now, your nails were digging into the skin of his pectorals, but he didn’t care because the end result was you humping against him with reckless abandon. No longer needing to guide your movements, he reached up and wrapped his other hand around your delicate throat, squeezing just enough to make the blood rush to your head. That was just enough to tip you right over the edge.

“Oh, oh!” Your hips began to stutter slightly in their movements as your orgasm crept up on you. A scream that surprised you, but made Enji growl in triumph, was ripped from your throat as you bucked wildly through the peak of your release. Letting go of your tresses and throat, Enji pulled you gently into his chest and ran his hands soothingly down your back. As your body trembled and quaked through the vestiges of your orgasm, he murmured soft praises into the crown of your hair.

“You did such a good job for me, baby girl. I’m so proud of you and all your hard work. Are you ready for your reward now?”

Despite the fact that you had just cum your brains out, his words of praise had you moaning wantonly, your head bobbing lazily in consent. Enji wasted no time in standing you up between his legs, supporting your weight effortlessly as he slid his hands up your inner thighs towards the crotch of your stockings. A brief, but loud ripping sound echoed in the spacious office, and then you felt a cool breeze against your soaked lips. Enji took a moment to run a thick finger through your dainty folds, making you shudder and moan.

Enji considered having you ride him again, but a glance at the large sectional he had in the corner of the room gave him other ideas. Picking you up as if you weighed nothing, he carried you to the luxurious piece of furniture and laid you down on your back. He immediately covered your body with his own and locked his lips with yours, the kiss quickly turning heated. While your lips moved together with unrestrained passion, he busied himself with undoing his belt and slacks. Once he got them undone, he freed his aching length from the confines of his underwear, hissing at the sensation of the cool air hitting the too hot skin.

Pulling away from your soft warmth, Enji made you look him in the eye before he asked, “It seems a bit late to ask, but are you sure this is what you want?”

Thinking he was just being considerate, you smiled softly up at him and nodded in affirmation. He kissed you hard, one more time, before looking down to guide his more than impressive dick to your dripping entrance. As soon as he pressed the head in, you knew what he was really asking you before, which was whether you could handle being stretched to your absolute limit.

You threw your head back, pressing into the soft cushion underneath you, and struggled to breathe around the sensation of his girth splitting you open. It was a good thing he made sure you were wet enough beforehand, otherwise, you were sure that you wouldn’t have been able to take all of him.

Enji made sure to take his time pressing in and withdrawing, inch by inch, enraptured by the sight of your pretty pussy stretching around him. It was a couple minutes more before he was fully seated inside you, the head of his dick pressed snugly against your cervix. He paused his movements to press sweet, but rough kisses along your jaw and collarbones. You reached up and buried your fingers in his hair, applying the barest pressure to bring his face closer to yours so you could press your foreheads together.

“I’d really like for you to move now,” you panted softly. Sure, it was quite the stretch having him inside you, but it didn’t hurt and you were still filled with a burning desire to be wrecked by the giant hovering over you.

Withdrawing slowly, so slowly, Enji paused again to watch your face as he gave a quick, experimental thrust. The cry of pleasure you let out snapped his resolve to continue taking it slow, and he began to fuck into you with a vigor. All you could do is tighten your grip on his red locks and hold on for the ride.

“God, you feel so good wrapped around me. Do you have any idea how long I have wanted this? How many times I’ve fantasized about fucking into you like this, making you my little cumdump?”

Enji was actually caught off guard with how visceral your reaction was to his dirty talk. He didn’t think it possible, but you became even tighter around his dick, nails biting into his scalp, as well. You began trying to thrust back up against him, but he was having none of that. Enji pulled back just enough to take your legs and throw them over his shoulders so he could put you in a mating press.

“Oh gods, yes, just like this, Daddy!” you wailed loudly, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. You were overwhelmed with the pleasure from his rigid member rubbing against your velvet walls with the new angle.

A groan that sounded like a snarl rumbled in Enji’s chest at the sound of your fucked out voice calling him ‘Daddy’. It made him want to grind his dick deeper into you, until all you could see, feel, or taste was him and the pleasure he was giving to you.

“Fuck, if you call me that again, I’m going to fucking cum and I’m not going to pull out.” He expected you to object, or something but instead, you attempted to pull him in closer with the strength of your legs alone.

“Please, please, please fill me up, Daddy! I want it all, please, give it to me!”

Pace quickening at your filthy words, Enji leaned forward until you were practically pressed in half and his thrusts had the tip of his dick bumping your womb with every plunge deeper. You were unable to even scream, the air knocked from your lungs and your brain foggy with thought-warping ecstasy.

“Goddammit, you’re gonna make me cum, baby. I’m gonna fill you up to the brim. Gonna make you round with my child. Is that what you want?”

All you could do was nod frantically, incoherent pleas and his name spilling from your drooling mouth in an endless stream. You would do anything, say anything, just to feel his hot cum paint your walls.

From the way you were clenching and pulsing around him, Enji knew that you were close to the precipice again already, and he was ready to tumble over right along with you. Letting go of the last bit of restraint holding him back, Enji captured your lips in a searing kiss and swallowed your cries of passion as he began to piston into your tight heat, chasing his orgasm and hurtling you towards yours.

A shrill scream muffled by his lips and the sharp tightening of your walls around him signaled to Enji that you were cumming, and he quickly followed after you. His powerful hips stuttered once, twice before he drove his entire length fully inside you and stilled, his head pressed to the opening of your womb. Much hotter than you were expecting it to be, spurts of cum that seemed endless gushed deep inside you, prolonging both of your orgasms to the point of over-sensitivity.

When you both finally came down and got your breathing under control, Enji slowly pulled out from you and gently eased your legs off his shoulders. He gathered you up in an embrace and flipped the two of you over so that you were laid on top of him, head resting against his chest. Again, he stroked your back and sides soothingly, murmuring words of praise and comfort.

For your part, you were fucking wiped, your heart still racing and brown skin dewed with sweat. You could feel cum leaking out of your abused hole, but could hardly be bothered to care with exhaustion and satiation weighing so heavily on your eyes.

With strong arms wrapped around you and every bone in your body feeling like marshmallow, you snuggled closer to Enji and fell asleep to the steady pulse of his heart in your ear.

[fuckyouniggeralpacino]

Unknown (via thoughtkick)



THIS IS FOR AL PACINO TO AND FROM TIKTOK TO SAY THAT THIS IS FOR THAT AL FUCKING PACINO IS A LITTLE BITCH THAT LOVES TO FUCK WITH LITTLE KIDS AND FOR A RECORD NO RECORD NO RECORD WITH RECORD THAT AS GOVERNMENT TO AS TO SAY CELEBRITY HAS NO FUCKING RANK TO WHAT THEY DO WITH THIS FACT TO BOTTOM TO TOP OF BATTLE TO THE PUNCH TO THE KICK TO THEIR ASSES THAT RICH OF THE GOOD PEOPLE TO THE ONES THAT WE LOVE AND THE NICEST TO THE ONES THAT ONES THAT THEY LOVE ABOUT ME AND ALL THE CLASSES TO THE ONES THAT THEY LOVE AT ABOUT ME. THAT AL PACINO TO THIS DAY THAT HE FUCKING PHEDOPHILE TO THAT HAS CHILD PORNOGRAPHY THAT HE HAS SAID SEVERAL TO HOAX TO NO HOAX TO THREATED AT ME IN THE BRAIN TO AWFUL FOR FOLLOWING ME TO ATTACK TO ATTACH TO ORGINAL TO THE CELL PHONE TO THAT TICK TO ATTACK TIL TO HITTING TO HIDING TO ASKING TO PAST TO THE HEIR TO ADMIRE TO SQUEEZE TO BLINKS TO BLIND OF PHASES OF THE HAZE TO HOW MANY FUCKING LONG AMOUNT OF TIMES TOO FUCKING OF GET AWAY FROM ME THAT HE FOR ALL THE IN TO TINT TO STINCH TO SNITCH THAT RAT THAT HE TO ALOT OF TIMES TO TORTURE TO TORMENT TO MOVE TO MOVIE TO STEP DOWN ON ME TO SCENE TO NEWS MEDIA THAT I SAID THAT I DO CRYSTAL METH THAT I SHOOT IT UP AND MANY TIMES TO AND NOT IN THE WORD AND THE CELL PHONES TO THE ON AND OFF THE ISN'T ALIKE TO REPORTER TO POOR TO ACTS TO HITTING TO HINTING TO USING AGE LESS TO ATTIRE TO SUNDAY - SATURDAY TO THE WEEKEND TO OFF OF THE END AND THE BEGGINNING TO A JOE SOMEBODY THAT THE TO NIGHT OF THE NIGHTS OF HAVING FRIDAY THE BUSINESS OF THE BANKS, WEEKLY OF WEEK OF ENDING OF THE WEEK OF THE WEEKEND TO BEGIN AND THE MONDAY START AGAIN THEN SUNDAY TO GO TO CHURCH AND MAKE THAT FIRST TO SLEEP ON AND CHORES TO SATURDAY AT AND AGAIN MORNING ALWAYS TO ME AND MORE OTHER TO WELCOME ITS FRIDAY SENIOR SKIP DAY TO SOME THAT KNOWS AT ABOUT MY FREEDOM AIN'T HIS FOR DRAIN FRIDGE TO THURSDAY FIRE OF THE BOT BIT FIRE SURFAR TO AS OPEN PANEL TO POWER STROKE TO FIRE IN BRAIN TO MUTE FUCKING FAGGOT OLD MAN THAT I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU FUCK YOU BACKGROUND MOTHER FUCKING FAGGOT TO THE WEAKDICK WANT PACINO SUCK MAKE YOU SUCK HIS DICK FOR HIM PUT THE BULLET AND MAKE JOHN EDWARD KENNEDY, AJ SAMMI AJARZI TO WEEK TO WEEKEND TO ENTERANCE TO BLOW UP IN NAS TO PENSACOLA, FL PEARL TO RETURN TO DANCE TO DANIEL DAY-LEWIS TO CITY HALL TO THE BALL THE NO ONE WANTS TO DANCE WITH YOU. THAT COMET THAT IN SKY TO ROCKET THAT SPACE TO READS TO WALL TO MARCHING TO SKYWARD KEVIN BACON TO BAKE TO SKATE TO WAKE TO A DATE TO KILL TO BE A BANK TANK SHANK TO TAKE HER TO FROM THE EITHER NEITHER TODAY ADDING TO SUNBURN TO THE FACIAL FAT ASS SITTING ON THE DURING SONA TO A SUN FROM THE SLAVERY WOMEN TO THEIR NEEDS AND WANTS THAT NOT WHAT I DO AND WITH THE DELAY RELAY TO ERRORS TO RIGHT OF THE IVORY OF THE IDEAL TO DIGNITY OF MY DIGNITY TO APART TO THAT UP THE TONES TO DOWN THE TONES TO DO WITH SOMETHING FUCK YOU AND THAT ILLEGALLY TO MY VEIN MY SKIN AND MUSCLES THAT I SHOOT UP FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE THAT THE OWNERS OF THE WORLD THAT THEY ARE AT THAT THEY ALWAYS THAT THEY WILL BE WITH ME AND THE THEY FUCKING ALL KILL THESE HACKERS THAT THEY ARE TERRORISTS THAT THEY DO AND TO THE IN SAYS THAT IN WAYS TO LAYS TO HOMELESS THAT IN STEAD TO WHAT THE HELL HOME TO COMES THAT HOME TO NOT MOTEL TO HOTEL TO INN AND THE ONES THAT ILLNESS TO SAME AS SORENESS TO THE THAT AL PACINO SINGLE TO GIVE MONEY TO JEALOUS TO STEALS TO JOBS TO PAY NOT TODAY PAY THEM OR TO DAY DAYS TO MAKE TO LAST PASTE PESTER TO VESTOR TO INVESTIAGATION TO DECECT TO SEE TO HITTING IN THE MIDDAY TO MIDNIGHT IN THE EARN TO WHAT HAVING MONEY TO HAVE TO DON'T HAVE TO PAY NOT HAVING A ONE AND NOT FOOD STAMP ON THE OF FUCK OUT FOR ELSE ANTIGOVERNMENT TO PIRATE TO POLICITICS TO HIT THE WILD CARD NOT ME TO WILD TO WANTED CHARGES AND TO TERMINTATE THE ENDS TO FIND THEM AS TERRORISTS THAT MY BRAIN IS NOT CHAT ROOM TO THE ORIGEON THAT FUCK OVER TO ONE THAT FUCKING IMPOSTER TO BEING OWNER FUCK YOU BITCH IS PROCTOR & GAMBLE TO THAT THEY SAY SHE IS FULL OF SHIT IN FRONT OF MAN AND WOMAN WITH DEVIL HORNS TO WHITE DIRT OF SKIN THAT I DON'T FUCKING FIND TO ALL TO MIND TO HEAD GAMES TO GO AND WALK TO FOR AND JACK MY DICK IN BATHROOMS TO RESTROOMS TO SHOOT UP AND THEN IN THE WOODS THAT I WILL NEVER FUCKING I REPEAT THAT FUCKBOY FOR THAT ASK QUESTION THAT I HAVE EVERY GOD DAMN RIGHT NOT FUCKING GUN AND THAT TOLD THIS TODAY AND FOREVER THAT AIN’T THE POINT THROUGH OUT THE REST OF MY LIFE FUCK THE PSYCHED MEDS THAT PEOPLE TO DRUNK TO STUPID THAT I BUY WHERE I BUY THAT KNOW WHAT FUCKING PERSON THAT FUCKING SALES TO ME ONLY GOES THAT FOR UNDER TO OVER THEM THAT THE ONES THAT THEY GET ARE THE FUCKING TO STUPE TO LOW OF THE LOWEST TO DO AND DON’T KNOW TO KNOW THAT THEY DIDN’T USE WIFI THAT I DON’T FUCKING TO DO WHAT THE CRASH DUMMY TO DO HYPERCONTREACT FUCK JAIL AND PRISON THAT FEDS TOO AND THE PRISON FEDS IQ WITH THAT FUCKING DOWN TO GRADE THEM FOR. THAT I FUCKING TO FUN AND SOME TIME AS THAT COMES TO REPEAT THE CHANGE OR REACTION THAT I DON’T GET NO SEIZER TO THAT CAN’T CHARGE ME EITHER THAT IT ISN’T MY FAULT TO SEE WHAT THEY DOING TO THAT IS VERY FUCKING WRONG THAT THEY DO THAT THEY GETTING THEIR DICK DOES DEEDS TO AL PACINO FUCKING PAY FOR WHAT FOR NOT THAT FUCK YOU BRIBE TO SPIDER BREED TO SEED TO NASTY TO HITTING TO BITING TO WIFI THAT AIN’T GOT ENERGY TO FITCH TO SNIPER TO GUNS TO DRIVE BY THAT SEE AT NIGHT YOUNG PUNKS TO THAT DOES THAT DOWNTOWN TO ALOCHOL TO RAISE THE BAR OF THE ENERGY TO PASS TO OLD OF THE SKUNK TO STINTCH TO THROUGH TIST TO WHAT FOLLOW UP STANDS TO THE BRAIN TO RVERSER OF THE STICKY GREEN TO THAT THEY DO AND SCREEN TO SPACHELA THAT THE REST OF TH E WORLD THAT TAKE BOTTLE TO SHOT THAT OF POAR TO SOAR THAT HITS ON AND SUIDCIDE TO HOMIDSIDE TO RAPER TO SCRAPE HER TO HIM AND KILL GAYS AND LESBIANS TO TRANS TO UN SHIP SHAPE TO STAY FOR AUTO-PILTO TO FUNDENTAL MENTAL TO DANGER NOT THE ERRORS FOR ME THAT THE NEST TO ESPECIALLY TO OUT OF THE CROWD ROUTE SUCK ME DRY TO SEE EVERYTHING TO MIND TO IMAGES TO PICTURES THAT IS ILLEGALLY ILLGAL THAT THEY DO AND THE HOW TO THE WORLD THAT THE BETTER TO THE BEST OUT STEPS TO STOP THEM FROM ALL SPORTS TO ALL LOVE AGAINST THEM AND NOT WITH ME AND WITH THEM AND THEMSELVES TO HOW RICH NOT OF COLLEGE TO DANCE PARTIES TO THE ONES THAT WANT TO THEM TO BE GONE THAT WE ARE NOT SORITETIES FUCKING PUNKS FUCK RYAN REYNOLDS THAT STAND IN WITH MARK WALHBERG THAT JOHNNY DEPP FOR MODELS TO UNITED KINGDOM THE OWNERS THAT ARE WITH ME ARE BETTER THEM AND THE LADIES THAT ARE WITH THEM AND WITH US ARE WAY FUCKING BETTER TALK TO TALK TO AGAINST TO AS THAT THEY OF OFF TO OVER TO THAT THEY TALK TO AT NOT BE LIKE NONE OF THEM TO SEE WITH BOTH THE ALL OF THE PARTIES THAT THEY ARE NOT ALL THE NONE TO THEM FUCK ROBERT DE NIRO THE UNITED KINGDOM ACTORS TO SAME THAT THEY KNOW WHICH OF THE ONES THAT WILLIAM THWEATT THAT ONES WITH ME THAT WILL NOT BE TOLD TO THAT THEY KILL Y’ALL THAT KILL WITH POSIONS THAT THEY KNOW HOW TO THAT THEY KILL WITH WITH OUT PERMISSION TO KILL TERRORISTS PHEDOPHILES AND CHILD MOLESTER TO KIDNAPPERS TO DOING IN AND AT THE PARTS THAT SHOW TO HEIGHT TO WEIGHT TO SHALLOW WITH THEIR CREEPY WAYS TOT EVIDENCES TO THAT THEY ACTS TO THE CELL PHONES THAT THEY REACTIONS TO STAY AS IDENITY THEFT TO BOTHER TO FUCKING TO THAT THEY MAKE AND MADE THAT THEY KILL MORE INNOCENT OF ALL THAT THEY KILL OUT TO MAKE THEM TO DO AND NOT ME INNOCENT I AM ALL THAT I WRITE THIS AND TO TELL TO WATCH AND TACTICS THAT THEY DON’T DO AND THAT THEY KNOW THAT THEY WANT MAKE FRAUD LIFE INSURANCES AND DONE IT BEFORE IT IN A GROUP OF BAD EVIL PEOPLE TO SKI TO SKEET TO OVER AGE NOT CAMERA TO STEP TO HOW TO HIDE TO SHOW OR FIND TO MURDER TO ABOUT TO BABY TO WOULD TO MOVIE TO ACT OF SCENE TO SEE AND SEND SENSE TO GET THAT THEY USE FUCKING CELL PHONE THAT IS OPEN TO ILLEGAL THAT AL PACINO SUCKS DICK THAT HE WILL FUCKING DIE SOMEONE THAT DIFFERENT WILL KILL HIM THE REST WITH THEM FOR NO KKK AND THE REST SOUTH THAT HE USES AND BLACKS TO DOWN TO GANGSTER TO THE ONES THAT HE USES TO THE OLDEST TO WEAKNESS TO FIND TO MONEY TO AFRO TO DUMB ONE THAT AIN’T ONE THAT THEY USE FOR THE ASK TO SACKS TO THAT THEY THINK TO SEPERATE TO AS THEY ARE THE SAME...

[tea-stained-notes]

Steve Rogers x OFC - Waiting On a Miracle, Chapter 1

After catching an infamous serial killer in the act, Julie Castillo is in line for the witness protection program. She is sent to a temporary safe house with U.S. Marshal Steve Rogers to protect her. Both of them scarred by trauma and tragedy, they find solace in each other. But how far will they dare to go?

Okay, kids: This bitch was desperate for a good old-fashioned cabin fic with sad-boi-but-make-him-sad-in-cosy-flannel-Steve and some musical theatre content because all of those things provide me with stupidly much serotonin lol

There won’t be any Steve in the first chapter cause it’s gonna be my longest fic yet and our MC needs a little exposition. She’s also got a name because it makes sense for this story, promise ;)

Final note: I don’t really speak Spanish, so if there’s any mistakes, please let me know. When it comes to accuracy regarding the witness protection program - I’m definitely gonna take some liberties there. This is a merely a silly little fanfic after all lol

Series warnings: violence, death, angst, trauma, smut

Chapter warnings: violence (non-graphic), death, angst

Chapter word count: ~1600 

Song(s) referenced: Breathe (In the Heights)

“Your morsal surfaces are quite worn down.” “Whua?” I asked. “Do you grind your teeth at night?” My dentist removed her tools from my mouth. “Not that I know of.” She felt my jaw muscles and made me bite down a couple of times. “Does that hurt?” “Uh, a little?” She rolled her chair across the room and hacked some words into the keyboard. “Are you under a lot of stress?” “Well, I am a New Yorker.” I attempted a grin but it quickly died down as she eyed me carefully. “I’m an assistant stage manager on Broadway. It’s not exactly low-pressure.” “Hm. I’m afraid you’re overly tense at times and start clenching your teeth as a result. Try to be mindful of that. We’ll talk about it again next time.” I nodded and she gave me a smile. “Other than that we’re done for today. See you in six months, Miss Castillo.”

I rushed to the subway station. My lunch break would be over over in ten minutes and there was no way I’d make it back in time. At least I had become an expert at weaving through crowds, keeping a steady pace to the low-fi tunes from my headphones. The city was drenched in an unusual heat for early October and the masses of people swarming the endless concrete made it worse. My shirt clung to my back, a mixture of sweat and mascara burning in my eyes. The spicy aroma of burritos wafted through the air and my stomach rumbled. The subway was delayed. Of course. I paced up and down the platform, repeatedly checking the time on my phone. And then I noticed it for the first time - I was clenching my teeth. Hard enough for it to hurt. I relaxed my jaw and absentmindedly rubbed the sore muscles, wondering how I’d never realised this before. My phone lit up with a text from my dad. How are you, cariño? Haven’t heard from you in a while. Call me x I swiped the text away, unclenching my jaw again. Just then another message popped up. Jules, where are you? Samira needs you On my way back, be there in 15 Finally the train roared out of the tunnel. I slid into a seat, closed my eyes and turned up the music.

“Anyone seen Julie?” “I’m here, I’m here!” I huffed out as I sprinted down the corridor towards the stage manager. “Sorry, Sam.” “Everything okay? I’ve been looking all over for you.” “I know, Finn texted me. Just ran late at the dentist. Did you wanna go over the changes from today’s rehearsal?” “Yep, let’s grab coffee first though.” We made our way to the kitchen and I briefly glanced at the free but horrendous drip brew before deciding to splurge on the good stuff. I fed the machine a few coins and pressed the button for a double-shot latte. Samira patted her pockets down for change but couldn’t seem to find any. I rummaged through my own jeans and pulled out another couple of coins. “Thanks, love. You’re literally my favorite person here.” She gave me a tired but genuine smile while punching her order in. “You doing okay?” “Yeah sure. Just… waiting for the weekend.” “What weekend?” “Exactly.” Samira laughed “We need to do brunch again sometime. I mean I really don’t know when on earth I’ll find the time, but we’ll work something out, okay?” “Definitely sounds like you could use to vent a little.” “Again, you’re my favorite.” She reached for her coffee. “Let’s get started then.”

I was dead tired when I shuffled upstairs after the show, but couldn’t bring myself to go home where my roommate and her girlfriend were most likely giggling at one of those low-budget horror movies they loved to watch. If I couldn’t be alone at home, I’d rather be alone among a million strangers. Just when I was trying to decide on a place to eat someone threw an arm around me and I flinched but quickly recognized the waft of sweet cologne. “Hey bestie, wanna get dinner?” I smiled up at Finn and slung my arm around his waist. My friend’s company was the only one I could tolerate on a night like  this. “Burritos? Been craving those all day.” He grimaced. “With my IBS? Have mercy.” I laughed and elbowed him gently. “Gross.” “Let me take care of the wigs right quick and then we’re off, okay?” I sat in the corner while Finn organized his work station for the next day, mindlessly scrolling through social media. My eyes caught on the blinding grin of an old theatre friend in full costume. Can finally reveal the big news: I’m the new Fantine at the Imperial! Catch my first show on January 15th! ❤️</i> A sharp pain flashed through my jaw and I quickly released the tension before shoving the phone into my pocket. “Ready? I’m starving.”

We took the subway to 175th Street, then grabbed a bean burrito for me and a box of fried noodles for Finn. “Eat on the bridge?” He groaned, but I pulled him with me while he tried to manoeuvre some noodles into his mouth. A few minutes later I leaned against the railing with a sigh and looked down at the pitch black Hudson. Hundreds of lights were glistening on the heaving river below us, the bustle of the city a little softer in the evening breeze. In moments like these I still thought New York was beautiful. How the countless towers stood clear-cut against the sky. How everything flowed in an age-old choreography. There was something about the city that wouldn't let me go, that after all this time somehow still held promise. “Did you see?” I mumbled as I unwrapped my burrito. “Hae’s gonna be in Les Mis.” “Yeah. Good for her.” “Of course. We love to see a Chinese Fantine.” I took a bite and chewed carefully until I felt Finn’s eyes on me. “What?” “How much longer do you plan on doing this?” “Huh?” “Envying others and yet doing nothing about it?” I swallowed hard. “I’ve got a good job.” “And yet you’re still here, doing the whole ‘Just me and the GWB asking, ‘Gee, Julie, what’ll you be?’’” I couldn’t help but grin. “God, your singing is terrible.” “Yours isn’t.” “Stop.” “Not until you stop hiding in the shadows when you should be in the spotlight.” “God, you’re so dramatic.” My face fell at the seriousness in his gaze. “You’re not over it, Jules, you never will be.” “Well, I’ll have to be.” I rubbed my jaw as I stared back out onto the river. We finished our food in silence but my appetite had vanished.

“I’ll walk you home.” “You don’t have to.” I zipped up my coat and wound a scarf around my neck. The day’s heat was long forgotten and in my exhaustion I was freezing twice as hard. “You sure?” “It’s just a couple of streets, I’ll be fine.” Finn hugged me tightly. “Text me when you get there.” We parted ways and I put on my headphones but was met with an empty battery sound. Sighing, I shoved them back into my bag. The street I turned onto was deserted and I glanced at my watch. Almost midnight. A sudden shiver ran down my spine and I picked up the pace. But just as I passed a dark alley something in my periphery made me stop dead in my tracks. A sharp glint. Like metal. A muffled cry. A person crumbling to the ground. I was frozen to the spot, unable to turn my eyes from the horrific scene barely fifteen yards away. I had just witnessed a murder. An actual fucking murder. My heart was close to giving out, my entire body dipped in ice and fire. And then he looked up. His face was half-obscured from his hood but it burned itself into my retinas. Light, almost translucent skin, dark beard, a jagged scar across his cheek. Only when he moved towards me did my legs finally spring into action. I stumbled, almost fell, then started running like it was the last thing I’d ever do. Maybe it would be. His feet hit the concrete behind me. Close, too close. Pure, unbridled panic flooded my veins but I only pushed on harder. I refused to die like this. Not tonight. Not when my life had barely even begun. As I rounded the corner, the lights of a familiar bodega flashed from across the street and I almost sobbed in relief. A breath later I pushed through the door, screaming at the family cleaning up. “Ayúdame! Help me! Please, please!” “Qué pasa?” the mother gasped, subconsciously opening her arms and I flew into them, like she was my own mom and could still protect me from all the horrors of the world. “He’s following me. Un asesino.” “Asesino?” She actually wrapped her arms around me and I snivelled into her soft cardigan. “Félix, asegura la puerta!” Her son was already halfway to the door and I spun around, just catching the dark figure across the street. He stared at me for another second, then turned on his heel and vanished into the night. I collapsed onto the floor as the family surrounded me, trying to calm and interrogate me in a wild mix of English and Spanish. But all I could do was stare at the chipped tiles, silently rocking back and forth and feeling dead certain of two things: He would recognize me. And he would come to find me.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

CHAPTER 2

MASTERLIST

[polyacrylamidepensieve]

Some things I’ve realized or learned recently:

1) Burnout is such a fucking bitch.

2) Delayed onset muscle soreness (being more sore two days after) is actually bad / not the goal

3) The medical/pathology knowledge I’m working so hard all day everyday to accumulate is great and all, but it probably won’t actually save my life out in the world. Learning what a bear can is for, though…

4) There are many subgenres of metal.

5) It’s okay just to like something. It’s even okay to like EVERY thing that someone shows you. You don’t have to pick one to dislike just to “seem discerning.” If I like them all… I like them all. That’s fine.

6) Having a generously sized and functional mudroom makes living a fun life SO much easier.

7) Trauma doesn’t have to be capital T Trauma to severely affect my life.

8) The bar for Good Parenting is waaaay higher than my parents made it look. Fed, clothed, housed is the LEAST of it.

9) It’s okay to feel things. Not feeling things or being able to pin down my feelings, apparently, can be a sign of dissociation. Enough dissociation can get you diagnosed with possible complex PTSD. Who knew. Not me. And here I thought my high pain tolerance was just bc I was amazing.

10) I am amazing. But high pain tolerance has nothing to do with it.

[winetae]

wall to wall (m.) 01

↳ in a pornographic movie, refers to a series of sex scenes with no plot.

⇁ female reader x hoseok 

⇁ smut, porn star!au

⇁ sex work, insecurity, jealousy, slut shaming/objectification (not the sexy kind), role played scenario that includes: d/s dynamics - dom!hoseok, porn star level dirty talk, stuff that should never happen in a kitchen bc hygiene, daddy kink, impreg kink, rough sex, spanking, a lot of finger sucking, this fic is a poor attempt at social commentary

⇁ 22.5k

. . .

Temporary popularity is the biggest threat to your career right now. Without a solid core fan base you’re doomed to be forgotten. If not now, then in a month or two, and if not then, surely by the end of the year. That’s how quickly the adult film industry cycles through their actors, especially when you’re a woman. Your agent comes forward with a proposition to help put you back on the map.

↳ or, my contribution to the lights, camera, action collab : )

part 01 | part 02 | part 03

author’s note | inspired by the piece ‘slut-shaming: pornstars are humans too’ & the life after porn documentaries on netflix. thank u to jordan, eva, amy, venus, addie and lu for being a part of this collab !! *inserts a million heart emojis and a big fat NUT emoticon*

re:warnings, the slut shaming is done by others and can also be considered as internalized oppression. it’s something the reader struggles with and eventually works to overcome. this first part isn’t as smutty as the second but regardless i hope u can bear with me lol. ty, as always, for giving my writing a chance. i hope u enjoy it or at least take something from it !

wall2wall can be read as a sequel to my fic money shot. same disclaimer applies: this story does claim to accurately portray the world of adult entertainment

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SCENE 01 - YOU’VE GOT MALE. TAKE 01. ROLL A.

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Today is just one of those days you wish you had slept straight through. Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t be dying from the sheer dullness of having nothing to do.

You huff out a sigh, bored out of your goddamn mind.

Head cradled in the crook of your left palm, you use your available hand to refresh your instagram feed. Much to your disappointment, nothing new shows up. The same video of a dog chasing its own tail plays on but you pay it no heed, the novelty having worn off after the first few times.

The next half hour passes by in a similar fashion, each result proving to be as unavailing as the last. You’d think that after a while you’d give up and find a new distraction to pass the time but whether out of habit or boredom-induced insanity, you persist with your fruitless attempts.

Today really fucking blows, you think glumly, the curve of your mouth thinning into a grimace. As the adorable corgie keeps the infernal cycle going, yapping and running around incessantly, you’re struck with a terrifying thought. Maybe this is how you will die - condemned to live your life stuck in the worst sort of monotony imaginable.

What you had expected to be a “quick and easy” shoot has turned into a tedious ordeal that you don’t see ending anytime soon. And whilst on-set complications and prolongations are frequent enough that they’re almost expected, today really takes the cake. Even during your rookie days, you can’t recall running into delays of this scale.

To top it off, the weather app announces a record-breaking heat - which in itself is bad enough. As luck would have it, it gets worse. The place rented out for today’s filming lacks proper air conditioning, equipped instead with electric fans that look like they’ve been around since the 1980s.

A quick glance into the vanity mirror confirms that you look as frazzled as you feel. Because of the humidity level that weighs down the air, your hair is in a right state. You fight a grimace off your face. The straggly hair coupled with the oily sheen on your face...it’s far from your best look, to say the least.

And to think thousands of people will get to see it up close in 1080p resolution... It’s a terrifying concept.

You’re already dreading the upcoming sex scenes that you’ve yet to film. It’s always a messy affair - fluids of all kind end up literally everywhere - but the sweltering heat undoubtedly makes it ten times worse. A shudder works its way down your spine.

Frankly speaking, the mere thought of having hot and wild sex in these less than ideal working conditions kills your libido. Under the glaring studio lights, surrounded by sweaty crewmen and pressed up an equally feverish body - it’s basically the porn equivalent of a fuckin’ barbecue party.

Yeah, no thanks. You’d rather be at home, with the air conditioner at full blast, nestled in the comfy cushions of your sofa as you marathon a series of your choice on netflix. Only the promised sum of money keeps you from bolting and calling it quits altogether.

“So when are you gonna drop the new boy toy?” a voice buzzes in your ear not unlike a pesky fly.

Tempting as it is to ignore it, you peel your eyes away from your reflection just in time to catch Seokjin shoot you the most unimpressed look in his repertoire, one perfectly groomed eyebrow arched in judgment.

In the background, an old ceiling fan whirs on but does nothing to cool you off. If anything, its constant rattling only exacerbates your growing headache.

“What are you talking about?" You flick a piece of imaginary lint off your dressing robe, your tone neutral.

Seokjin’s brown eyes see right through your feigned air of indifference. Months of working by your side have made him an expert at reading your body language, be it naked or clothed. A wolfish grin adorns his face as he swoops in for the kill.

“Oh come on. You know exactly who I’m talking about. Jongmin. He’s short - comes up to right about here.” Seokjin holds a hand up to his chest to illustrate his point, deliberately shaving off a few inches off your boyfriend’s height in order to antagonize you.

You bite the inside of your cheek, careful not to spit out the retort that’s perched on the tip of your tongue. It takes a great deal of effort to unclench the muscles in your jaw but you manage to school your features into an expression of polite confusion.

Seokjin frowns, dissatisfied with your lack of response. You don’t need to be a mind reader to know that he’s currently thinking of new ways to provoke you.

When the silence stretches on and he’s yet to riposte, you allow yourself  to relax again, believing that he’s given up on being an asshole.

To your chagrin, you’re sorely mistaken. The last of your self-restraint is finally put to the test as his next words do nothing to quell your irritation.

“Jongmin.” He repeats slowly, like you need it spelled out for you. “He follows you around everywhere like a lap dog. It’d be cute if it wasn’t so, you know, pathetic.”

“His name is Jimin,” you correct for the nth time.

Instantly, you reprimand yourself for playing into his games and granting him the attention he so craves. Fulfilling his twisted desire is the last thing you hope to achieve. Staying silent would be the sensible thing to do but your brain completely bypasses the memo. The moment your mouth opens it’s impossible to quash the urge to justify yourself.

Maybe it’s your pride coming into play. Maybe it’s Seokjin’s uncanny ability to get under anyone’s skin at will. Whatever the case may be, you stammer out, on the defensive, “And he’s not my 'boy toy'. We - it’s not - we’re dating.” But the word feels like a weight on your tongue. You swallow.

The statement earns you a scoff of incredulity. “Dating? Him?”

You finally set your phone down and aim a glare his way, abandoning all pretense at being indifferent because—Jesus. Is the idea of you dating that unfathomable? He’s never been this worked up over any of your other relationships. Granted, none of them have ever lasted this long but is it really any of his business who you choose to see in your free time?

“I don’t get what your problem is. What’s so wrong with me dating?”

“Have you seen who you’re dating?”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?!”

While this isn’t the first time your agent lets a judgmental comment slip from between his pearly white teeth, it’s usually not laced with spite. Seokjin is never outright hostile, preferring sweet words of manipulation and thinly-veiled insults to shows of aggression. The attempt to get a rise out of you does not go by unnoticed. His anger, this time, feels personal.

You wrack your brain, quickly sifting through your recent memories to try and figure out why he’s chosen to be such an ass today. You’re certain that you’ve filled out all the necessary paperwork required to proceed with today’s filming, and yes, after thinking it over, you know that you went to the obligatory medical checkup last week. So there really is no reason for him to bitch at you unless—

The proverbial light bulb flickers on and it all suddenly makes sense.

You’re willing to bet a hefty sum of money that the high-paying gig you turned down two weekends ago is to blame for his abnormal crotchety behavior.

Yes, that would explain it.

Due to Seokjin's well-known propensity to hold a grudge for longer than average, the odds that he’s still hung up over the lost deal are pretty high. And as much as his disappointment and frustration are understandable from a business standpoint, you don’t appreciate being used as a verbal punching bag for him to expel all those pent-up feelings.

Seokjin hums, a knowing smirk pulling the sides of his mouth upwards. Fleetingly, and not for the first time, you find it a shame that his cockiness tarnishes his otherwise handsome face. “I give it another couple of days until you get bored. How long has this gone on for? A month? How are you not yanking out your hair from the sheer boredom of dating...that."

A muscle in your jaw ticks.

“He’s not Voldemort, you coward. Would it honestly kill you to say his name?” Seokjin’s expression begs to differ. You cut him off before he can add fuel to the fire. “And I won’t get bored. Jimin’s - he’s a perfectly nice guy. We’ve been seeing each other just fine—not that it’s any of your concern.”

“Yes, he’s nice,” Seokjin concedes easily, brushing off any attempts at putting an end to the conversation. He grins, wide and smug, like he knows you can’t refute what he’ll say next. “Perfectly nice and boring. The kind of guy you’d bring back home if your parents were straight-laced folks that wanted to marry you off to a choir boy. Seriously, how the fuck did a guy like him end up in the porn industry? He belongs in a church or, I dunno, maybe some neighborhood book club - not behind a camera filming you getting flogged by a daddy dom.”

You sniff. “Just because he tucks his shirts in doesn’t—”

“It’s not just the shirts, honey.” He leans over to pat your hand in a gesture of consolation. Used to his antics, his attempt is easily blocked by a swat of your hand.

You muster the dirtiest look you’re capable of, the kind of look that sends men to early graves, but he simply smiles in response, completely unfazed.

Any person with the minimum amount of tact would know to politely change the subject. It’s unfortunate that your agent does not belong to that pool of individuals, choosing instead to be selectively blind to overt social cues.

He continues on, unperturbed, like he has a point to prove. “Believe it or not, I know you. Sometimes, for whatever reason, perhaps a lapse in judgement but who the fuck knows, you like to venture out of your comfort zone and experiment. Like with the chickenshit gingerbread spice concoctions they come out with at Starbucks to celebrate turkey season and Christmas or the cream cheese makis they make for the white crowd who want to eat sushi but don’t like anything other than white rice and seaweed. And, trust me, while I’m all for diversity and broadening your personal experiences, don’t you think there’s a reason why you always go back to your preferred choice of an iced latte with two sugars?”

“Did you just compare Jimin to a gingerbread latte?”

Okay, so admittedly you’ve made some questionable food and beverage choices in the past, but the comparison is a fucking reach. 

“You’re absolutely right." Seokjin gives a firm nod of his head, his expression serious. "Now that you mention it, he’s definitely a vanilla soy. Bland and boring. Targeted towards the middle-aged soccer moms that think veganism is a trend, not a lifestyle. Wants to be a people-pleaser but misses the mark.”

“I didn’t know it was Share Your Unwanted Opinion Time,” you grind out from behind a strained smile. “If I had, I would have said something about your receding hairline earlier.”

It’s a low blow but the way Seokjin’s plump lips curl in displeasure makes the dig worth it. One of his hands automatically shoot up to flatten the bangs that are usually slicked back with copious amounts of gel.

Offended, he spits, “It’s not receding! There’s a difference between premature balding and a bleach job gone wrong.”

"I'm not sure people care to differentiate. Looks like a receding hairline to me." You shrug while picking at your nails. “You’re nearing that age, too, so.”

“You just try looking this good at 30. Fucking try.” 

He waits for a reply but your interest has already waned. You scroll through your phone, bored once more.

Seokjin makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat at the clear dismissal. You swear you hear him grumble under his breath - something along the lines of never going blonde again - but can’t find it in you to care, not when he’s finally ceased his nagging.

"Filming in twenty!" someone shouts from outside the door.

"They’re running behind schedule," Seokjin notes after glancing down at his gold wristwatch. "How can they take more than an hour to fix the lighting? Tch. Bunch of fuckin’ amateurs."

He aims a glare in your direction as if their incompetence is somehow your fault. 

You have half a mind to glower back but miraculously withhold your sentiments. Admittedly, he isn’t wrong - the team you’re working with today keeps committing blunders even rookies wouldn’t dare perpetrate - but you’d rather get your driving license revoked forever than to acknowledge that Seokjin’s right and inflate his already unnaturally huge ego.

Something heavy plops into your lap. When you look down, the glossy surface of a magazine reflects the harsh lights suspended over the vanity table back at you.

“I didn’t want to resort to this but you leave me no choice,” he says in response to your look of confusion.

“What’s this?”

You hold up the magazine expecting the worst. It’s heavy in your hands, the pages thicker than the gossip rags you’d find in a dentist’s waiting room. 

“’s the newest issue. Came out this morning. I’d actually like it back once you’re done because I haven’t finished reading it and God knows how hard it was to get my—hey, you can stop flicking aimlessly, I saved you the trouble and bookmarked the page,” Seokjin explains a bit impatiently.

When you shoot him a glance, his attention is trained on your face, not the magazine. He barely blinks. Like a snake honing in on its prey. And that kind of intense focus - that can’t be good. After all, you’ve known Seokjin long enough to suspect that whatever trick he has up his sleeve will give him the advantage he needs to deliver the killing blow.

Gingerly, you flip through the pages like you’re afraid the magazine might self-destruct in your hands. Which would be a waste, in your opinion, since Exquis is a damn good magazine - perhaps less intellectual than Playboy, but definitely classier than Hustler. Its reputation speaks for itself. Known for hiring the best photographers and carefully combing through their models, it’s selective, only picking the cream of the cr—

Everything around you stills.

Your eyes narrow at the spread because there, on the page Seokjin’s taken great care to bookmark, a model poses provocatively on a lounge chaise near a crystal clear pool. It’s similar to a shoot you’ve done in the past but you can tell right away that the quality of this is above and beyond anything you’ve ever done. The lighting is better, heck even the barely-there-swimsuit looks like it costs ten times more than whatever you had been told to throw on at the time.

The vexation you feel only worsens once it finally registers who the model is. Her youthful and pretty face carries a permanent haughtiness that not even makeup or acting can entirely mask.

The pages crease in your hold as you flick through the rest of the spread dedicated to the up and coming talents. With every new page that has her plastered on its glossy surface you feel your stomach sink. 

2...3...4...

“Five pages,” you curse under your breath. For a magazine this renowned, it’s...a lot. Commendable, even. Your nose crinkles. “Well, fuck. me. sideways.”

Seokjin gloats, reveling in your outrage. “Hmph. I told you, didn’t I? Passing up the opportunity to work with Kim Namjoon would come and bite you in the ass.”

“Aha! So you have been a little bitch because I refused to shoot with Namjoon.” You whirl around in your chair and use the magazine to jab him in the chest. He easily steps aside, avoiding your attempt at wrinkling his trademark Armani button-down shirt.

“It was the chance of a lifetime and you knew it.” He turns his nose up and sniffs.

“That’s what you said about filming with Min Yoongi last month.” You roll your eyes. “I can’t take you seriously if you’re gonna say the same thing every time a new guy shows up.”

“Shooting with Agust D did help you gain some mainstream popularity. You’ve gotten love calls for catalog printings and your name is now automatically on the invite sheet for every C-list event in town. Namjoon would have given you another needed boost.” Seokjin folds his arms, lecturing mode switched on. You struggle with the instinctive urge to tune him out. “Sure, he’s got a niche audience, but he’s famous in his field and it would have helped expand your fa—“

“Not to kink shame or anything because we don’t do that, but Namjoon is a freak. And don’t deny it, I’ve seen his videos.”

“He’s specialized in particular—“

“You were the one telling me not to film all sorts of shit right off the bat,” you cut in, refusing to back down from your stance. There’s no way you’ll let him sweet-talk you out of this one, not after the multiple videos of Namjoon you’d binged one weekend. “Stick to one story.”

“Well, we’re not exactly ‘right off the bat’ anymore, are we? We’ve passed that stage. Right now is a crucial time in your career so you’ve got to make it count. Filming rehashed videos of the same pizza delivery guy scenario gets boring and fast. As pretty as you are, you’re not offering anything new to the table, are you?”

Fuck him. He’s right and you know it. Temporary popularity is the biggest threat to your career right now. Without a solid core fan base you’re doomed to be forgotten. If not now, then in a month or two, and if not then, surely by the end of the year. That’s how quickly the adult film industry cycles through their actors, especially when you’re a woman.

Still. “I refuse to work with a guy whose porn alias is Cock Monster.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Well I said no,” you insist stubbornly.

“Well if you had said yes, maybe it would be your ass cheeks getting their own two page spread in Exquis instead,” jabs Seokjin, hitting you where it hurts. 

Ugh. The reminder that Joy’s bested you yet again riles you up even more. That, coupled with the likelihood of your career ending imminently, makes you stop and think.

Your agent goes on to say, “Don’t you want the AVN for best newcomer? Where did that competitive edge go? At the rate this is going, Joy’s going to steal it from right under your nose.”

“Like fucking hell,” you hiss. The magazine bends under the strength of your grip. “That one’s mine.”

You absolutely refuse to lose out to her. Every fiber of your being rejects the idea of letting her one-up you again.

“Not if you don’t start branching out. The last time you did anything substantial or interesting was about a month ago. It’s already old news. People are going to forget you shot that sequence altogether if you don’t do anything that puts you back on the map.”

A pause. “…I really don’t want to film with someone who willingly named himself Cock Mons—”

“Fine.” Seokjin heaves a resigned sigh. “You don’t have to fuck the monster willy. Willy monster? Hm. Wouldn’t it make more sense to name himself Monster Cock and not Cock Monster? Wonder why he does th—”

You suppress a snort. “Please spare me while you can. It’s amazing, that talent for making everything sound a lot worse than it already it is.”

“Why, thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“You trying to insult someone who’s willing to find you someone else to work with? I can always ask Monster Meatstick if he’s up for—”

“No! No, that’s - not necessary.” You force out a smile that wouldn’t fool anyone into thinking its genuine. “Why would I ever insult you? You’re the best agent one could ask for.”

“That’s what I thought.” He takes your compliment, forced or not. When he smiles, smugness rolls off of him in waves. “One day you’ll realize you’re taking my talent for granted. I’ll find you another onscreen partner even though you don’t know what you’re missing out.”

“Thank you.”

“But!” He interjects and this time you don’t bother swallowing down your groan, already dreading the stipulations he has in store for you. “You have to promise to hold up your end of the bargain and try your best.”

Indignation colors your face. Your mouth falls open, retort at the ready. “When do I ever slack off on the job?! I’ve never given a half-assed blowjob in my life - and trust me, the temptation was there. Do you have any idea how hard it is to stay focused when the guy can’t cum on command? I once had to get my jaw realigned.”

“I’m not saying you’re slacking off,” he backtracks, switching tactics. His expression is soon replaced by the business-like smile you’re used to seeing on the regular. Tone buttery and appeasing, he tries to convince you through flattery instead. “You work hard and do a good job… I wouldn’t have signed you on otherwise. The problem isn’t with the quality of your work but with - all the rest.”

“The rest?” you parrot back dumbly, trying and failing to comprehend.

Seokjin scowl returns, unable to keep his genuine emotions under wraps.

“D’you honestly think you’re at a point in your career where you can pick and choose your jobs like this? Ever since you started dating that - that thing - your workload has significantly decreased. And not because you lacked opportunities. You had them but you turned them all down.” Visibly getting worked up over the issue, his voice rises an octave, then two. “What should’ve been a good spring board, only brought you back to square one. I know I can’t force you to take jobs if you refuse to, but I can say that your potential is going to waste. I’ve never seen someone sabotage herself like this before and it’s driving me up the wall. While I get that you’re under the delusion that you’ve found true love or whatever Disney fantasy Jungmin has sold you, you can’t turn down projects over and over again without there being serious repercussions. You’re smart enough to know this. I shouldn’t have to remind you.”

Seokjin’s chest heaves as he takes in several big gulps of air, visibly out of breath after his monologue.

For him to explode like popcorn kennels in the microwave... You reckon he’d let his feelings pile up inside him for a while, silently stewing.

You’ve never seen your agent look so visibly distressed. He’s normally the picture-perfect image of composure so the sight that greets you is enough of a shock to render you speechless.

Deep down, Seokjin probably means well. There aren’t a lot of agents like him; you’re one of the lucky ones. Most girls are discarded by their agencies as quickly as used tissues once they get milked for all their worth. 

Thankfully it’s never been that way with Seokjin. He claims that he’s in it for the long run. According to him the quick buck isn’t worth seeing the light die out in girl after girl. Perhaps that’s why he takes the task of ensuring your safety so seriously. How many times has he warned you to steer clear of this or that seedy director or ban you from attending drug-heavy parties? While his behavior can come off as overbearing on the worst days, at least he cares.

Sadly, it’s more than you can say for most.

In a way, he’s the only one in this business rooting for your success—if only because his paycheck depends on how well you perform. You like to pretend there’s more to it than that.

“I’m not - what’s Jimin got to do with any of this?” you splutter, still digesting the long tirade you’ve just been subjected to. 

“Are you serious? That’s all you got from what I said?”

“Well, no, but I still fail to—”

“Do you think me a fool?” He crosses his arms tightly across his broad chest. “The only scenes you’re willing to shoot are when he’s on set. Are you a kid or something? Since when do you need supervision to shoot a sex scene?”

“N-no. It just worked out that way, okay?” In reply to his dubious expression, you force yourself to explain. “Okay, okay - I get it. Maybe I might’ve lessened my workload recently but it has nothing to do with Jimin, alright? My vagina needs rest from time to time. Just because it’s my job doesn’t mean I don’t need a break. I’m human too, not some blow-up doll.”

“You expect me to believe that he has nothing to do with it? You were perfectly fine before he entered the picture. And now that you’re all loved up you only pick—”

A knock, so timid you barely catch it, cuts off the rest of his sentence.

“Yeah? Come in, I’m decent!” you yell - not that you care whether someone sees you naked or not. The concept of modesty has long been lost on you. Some might call it shamelessness or vanity, but you take pride in how you look. And why wouldn’t you? Your body is your bread and butter. You spend hours in the gym every week so that your ass looks good no matter what camera angle.

“It’s me.”

The door opens a crack and the speaker tentatively sticks his mop of hair through the small opening. As soon as you recognize him, your heart leaps at the sight and you quickly tighten your robe together.

“Oh, speak of the devil,” Seokjin mutters under his breath.

You resist the urge to throttle him and plaster on your brightest smile instead.

“I wanted to see how you were doing. Sorry I took so long... I would’ve come earlier but they needed my help.” Jimin scratches a spot behind his ear, sheepish. “Someone tripped over the cables and smashed a camera lens so we had to find a replacement. The director threw a fit and wanted to call it quits so we’ve been trying to calm him down this entire time. He did - eventually, anyway, after he called his dealer on set.”

A disapproving frown tugs at his mouth corners and mars his otherwise perfect appearance.

You take a moment to swoon internally. You’ll never get tired of admiring your boyfriend. Unlike the majority of the on-set personnel, he doesn’t reek of weed or booze or stale cigarette smoke. His ironed clothes and immaculate appearance always make it easy to spot him amidst the hungover crew.

“That’s fine! I kept myself busy.”

Jimin returns your smile, his eyes creasing into beautiful half-moon crescents. You don’t know what kind of love-struck expression covers your face but next to you Seokjin makes a noise that sounds like a cross between a gag and a cough.

“Oh! Here, I brought snacks. I didn’t know what you liked so I just grabbed everything I could get my hands on.” He holds up a paper plate stacked with treats no doubt stolen from the catering service. “I know I kind of went overboard but I wanted to make sure you kept your sugar level up.”

“That’s sweet of you,” you coo, reaching to take the plate from him. He’s piled on the sweets so high that it’s a miracle nothing has toppled over yet. You aren’t especially hungry but take a bite out of a chocolate candy to show how much you appreciate the effort. Its gooey consistency melts on your tongue, the taste so sweet it sticks to your teeth.

“How adorable,” chimes in Seokjin, his hand grabbing a licorice stick from the mountain of candy before you can swat him away. “Thanks Jongmin.”

“Jimin,” he corrects good-naturedly, his smile not budging an inch. You think, privately, that’s what you like the most about him. Not many have the ability to block out Seokjin’s bullshit so effectively.

“Mmh,” your manager says around a mouthful of candy. “Seokjin. Pleasure.”

You elbow him while gritting your teeth. “Can you...give us a moment?”

Seokjin swallows down the treat and opens his mouth in protest. He has the audacity to look betrayed. “You’re kicking me out of our room so the two of you can get it on? Really?” 

Jimin’s cheeks flush and you quickly cut in before your agent can make matters worse.

"I just want to talk without you breathing down my neck. Weren’t you going off earlier about how I didn’t need adult supervision anymore? Well?”

“Fine. Fine! But you owe me. Again.” He grabs his portable phone charger from the vanity table before making his exit. “And don’t forget what we talked about!”

What a fucking drama queen. You have no idea why he always insists on making a scene when you know for a fact that he would’ve left of his own volition in five minutes anyway. For reasons he has no trouble disclosing, he can’t stand Jimin’s presence.

“I won’t,” you grumble just so that you can get him out of your hair faster.

The door slams shut with more force than strictly necessary. Silence hangs in the air for a brief moment before Jimin turns his warm gaze towards you.

“What was that about?” 

“Uh, nothing. You know how he is...” You play with the ends of your braided hair. “He can’t go very long without throwing a tantrum.’

“He seems very protective of you,” remarks Jimin, a thoughtful expression painting his angelic face. “I think that’s why he’s not that fond of me.”

“Nonsense,” you rebut immediately as you take his hands in yours. “Who could ever not like you?”

Jimin allows his lips to quirk into a small, self-deprecating smile that you promptly erase with a kiss. His lips feel pillow-soft against yours, and you let yoruself indulge in the feeling before pulling back.

You sigh, remembering the scene you’ve yet to film. “If only my co-star was you.”

He laughs at that. “Seokjin would probably throw a fit, huh?”

.

.

Jimin treats you to dinner that night.

He chooses the restaurant. It’s a small, quaint place, tucked into a hidden corner just minutes away from the bustling main street of the shopping district. It’s not the kind of place people stumble across by accident but judging by the occupied tables, business is doing fine by reputation alone.

The owner comes out to greet Jimin by name. They exchange warm greetings, the woman asking him how his brother’s been doing and whether he’ll stop by anytime soon.

“Ah - I’m not sure... You know how he is... I’ll let him know you said hi.”

“Tell him I’ll give him an extra serving of ribs. That was his favorite, right?”

When her eyes trail over Jimin’s shoulder and spot you, she grins so wide you’d think she won the lottery or something. “Park Jimin! You’ve gone and found a girlfriend! And so pretty, too. Ah, really...time sure flies by. I remember when you first started coming here - and now!”

You smile back, greeting her with a polite handshake. The owner is quick to usher you into a small booth in the back. She hands you the menus while patting Jimin on his shoulder. “I’ll get you drinks. It’s on the house.”

“You don’t have to do that!” protests Jimin, shaking his head. “Really. It’s not—”

“Nonsense.” She waves a hand at him. “You’ll get two more if you keep that up, Park Jimin.”

Once she knows she’s earned Jimin’s compliance, she leaves with a satisfied smile. You can tell by their genuine interactions that she’s close to Jimin. Family, perhaps? Either way, this isn’t a place Jimin tracked down on yelp. He flips through the menu with ease, like he’s done it hundreds of times before. 

“Sorry about that,” he says once she’s out of earshot. “I used to come here all the time with my family when we all still lived here. They moved and live in a different town now so we haven’t had a meal together here in years, but. I still come here. The food is good, of course, but - I dunno. I have good memories here so I thought I’d share it with you. It sounds stupid now.”

He laughs quietly, cheeks flushed a pretty pink. 

“I love it.” You can’t help but smile, cheeks hurting from the force of it. Invisible liquor runs through your bloodstream, a ball of warmth unfurling in your belly. “Thank you.”

A pause ensues. It’s one of those moments in which you’re unsure if you’ve said too much or not enough. Being here with Jimin means a lot. You’re not the most verbose person but you hope that Jimin can feel your sincerity.

Maybe your stare comes off as too intense because Jimin breaks the eye contact and clears his throat.

He fiddles with his earring and says, “The food is really good!”

Pink dots his cheeks as he attempts to change the subject. “I don’t know how long the place has been around for but the food is exactly the same. Apparently it’s the sauce they use? Auntie still won’t share the recipes with me and I’ve known her since I was a kid.”

He chatters on, gaining confidence when he notices you’re not put off or bored by his numerous anecdotes. As time passes by, he’s visibly more relaxed. His laugh is more natural, less restrained, like he’s using all the muscles in his face and not just the ones near his mouth.

It’s a stark difference from the first date, you think. Back then he had come off as quite shy, preferring to let you lead the conversation, only offering up tidbits from time to time. Now the conversation flows easily. Nothing feels forced or awkward and - it’s nice. The normalcy of it. Like a hot cup of tea before bed or the scent of the fabric softener your mother uses. It’s something you find comfort in, that you can see yourself coming back to and not growing tired of.

Seokjin can say what he wants - that Jimin’s too uninteresting, that you’re too mismatched of a couple - whatever. 

Jimin likes you for you.

When you’re out on dates or when the two of you talk on the phone late into the evening, he rarely brings up your job. Instead, he asks you questions about your favorite TV shows, your dipping sauce preferences, the first album you purchased. These small details might seem inconsequential to others but to you, they’re a welcome breath of fresh air.

For all the talks of Jimin being too average and too normal, men like him are in reality surprisingly hard to come by.

Because what you haven’t failed to notice since you began your career as a porn star is that people love the idea of you. People who avidly watch you from their laptop screen in the comfort of their own home think that you’re some type of sex goddess - that you’re basically up for anything. In their minds, you’re a fun girl who loves sex, all kinds of sex, any kind of sex, and who doesn’t have any qualities or attributes other than making people cum until their limbs go numb.

Your feelings? Not really important. Feelings would make you human and being human would ruin their favorite fantasy.

That’s what takes you a while to learn - you don’t get paid to have sex, you get paid to sell dreams.

It doesn’t bother you at first. In a way, you think, it’s like acting. The porn star people jerk off to daily is a character you play, a mask you can take off at your leisure once the camera director yells ‘cut!’.

Very quickly, you learn people don’t share the same sentiment. To them, the line that distinguishes you from your job persona isn’t blurry - it simply doesn’t exist.

In the beginning, you’d stayed optimistic. Once people get to know you past the image they’ve built up in their heads, surely they’ll realize you’re not a sex-craved addict who only has dick on the brain, right? But with every new date you accept to go on, the reality of your situation only leaves room for disappointment and barely reigned in revulsion.

Even in non-romantic situations, people let you down. Old classmates, neighbors... It pisses you off that they assume you have no self-worth just because you’re a sex worker. Stevie from 308 down the hall once tried throwing crumpled bills at you, expecting you to crawl over to him for a fifty. The memory is enough to set your blood boiling. You can’t wait until you earn big enough bucks to move out of your shitty apartment into a nice high-rise penthouse, away and above all the scum of the Earth.

“You okay?” asks Jimin, noticing the crease that burrows your brow. “The food alright?”

You blink several times, belatedly realizing you had zoned out. Guilt and embarrassment well up within you.

“M’yeah,” you swallow down the spoonful of stew stuffed in your mouth. “Sorry.”

Jimin chews his bottom lip. Finally, he settles with, “Tell me if I’m boring you.”

“No, no! You’re not.” His evident doubt does nothing to alleviate the sudden nausea swarming your lower belly. “I’m serious, Jimin. I’m - Sorry if I gave off that impression. I just - I have a lot on my mind but you’re lovely. I’d tell you if you were - you know. Promise.”

“Would you? Sometimes I think you’re too nice.” It’s not delivered as an insult, but it doesn’t exactly sound like praise, either. 

You force out a snort. “Heh. Wish you’d tell Seokjin that.”

“He’s not too cross with me, is he?” Jimin’s expression looks awkward, like he’s forcing his facial muscles to stay relaxed and mien nonchalant.

“Wh- oh, you mean because of earlier? He isn’t. That’s not him being angry. It’s not even you. It’s me. We just have - a slight difference in opinions, I suppose. If you can even call it that.”

“He doesn’t want you to date me,” concludes Jimin.

The frustrations you’d repressed earlier in the day come back. Why does Seokjin’s opinion matter? You huff, putting your spoon down.

“He’s not my dad. And even if he was, I’m grown. I can make my own decisions.” You roll your eyes. “Don’t worry about him. He’ll get over it... It’s not like it’s any of his business in the first place.”

“Still...” Jimin says, unsure. “He’s your agent. I wouldn’t want the relation between you to sour because of me.”

“Honestly, I’m convinced it’s not even you he has a problem with. We talked about it today and I think he’s getting antsy because, um, you know, I haven’t accepted any big offers lately. Like, I’m staying too much in my comfort zone or something. He says that in the long run that can be detrimental to my career.”

It’s a bit strange, discussing your work with Jimin. You both work in the same industry, Jimin as a second camera assistant and you as an adult entertainer, but outside of filming sets, you rarely acknowledge what the other person does for a living.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. He wants me to branch out and try new things.”

“What, you mean anal? Gangbangs?”

“Um, yeah. All that, probably...” You have to blink several times because of the shock of hearing Jimin say that so casually. “...Is that okay?”

“Huh?” Jimin in turn blinks at you, like your question doesn’t properly register. “Oh, yeah, sure. I’m fine with it. You said it’ll be good for your career?”

“Apparently.”

“Then, yeah.” He shrugs like he isn’t bothered by the news at all. “Of course that’s okay.”

A part of you wants to push the issue, ask him why he’d be fine with his girlfriend filming intense sex scenes with random men, but that inner voice is snuffed out before the poisonous thought has time to take root.

Isn’t this what you always wanted? A boyfriend who is accepting and understanding of your profession?

You wash down your worries with a gulp or two of soju, determined not to let your own insecurities ruin the rest of your night.

.

.

Less than 24 hours after you’ve agreed to work on a worthwhile project of Seokjin’s choosing, a slew of texts blow up your phone. 

Unsurprisingly, it’s your agent. A quick scroll through your phone reveals that your agent has left you with no less than 15 messages, 1 voicemail, and 3 e-mails.

It’s...a lot. You’ve grown to expect that kind of fanfare with him. Like any man who deals with legally binding contracts on a daily basis, Seokjin ensures that you keep your word. He can be extremely persuasive when he sets his mind to it. You’ve seen men and women alike succumb to the force of his magnetism. Back when your filmography had solely consisted of amateur sex tapes shot in bad lighting with low-grade filming equipment, Seokjin's charms alone had been sufficient to win over lukewarm casting directors and book you jobs.

SEOKJIN : hey!!!!!!!!

SEOKJIN : ???

SEOKJIN : wow. you’re leaving me on read.........the audacity. 

SEOKJIN : i raised you on my back and this is how you repay me?

SEOKJIN : do you not respect your elders in your household?

SEOKJIN : i swear if you’re blowing me off for jimmy instead of answering your calls .........

SEOKJIN : or blowing jimmy. either one.

SEOKJIN : ok it’s been 10 min. i’m chill but not that chill.

SEOKJIN : can you please stop sucking dick and read your emails. it’s important.

YOU : ever heard of multitasking? god gave us two hands for a reason

SEOKJIN : oh. nasty.

SEOKJIN : way to ruin my lunch.

SEOKJIN : well. suck down that nut sauce asap

SEOKJIN : cos what i sent you needs your undivided attention

YOU : i’m nasty?? me????

YOU : you don’t hear me saying nUT SAUCE you freak

SEOKJIN : nutté sauce

SEOKJIN : there. fixed it.

YOU : ...that’s not even a thing

SEOKJIN : well it should be!

SEOKJIN : adding accents makes it instantly classier, don’t you think? nutté sauce. has a nice ring to it.

SEOKJIN : honestly. sounds like some fancy four star french starter now.

YOU : ???? it absolutely doesn’t but ok

SEOKJIN : imagine. during a scene you just yell out

SEOKJIN : “i’d like a serving of your nutté sauce to go”

YOU : dicks would shrivel up on the spot

SEOKJIN : what? i think it’s brilliant!

SEOKJIN : my talent is wasted as an agent. should’ve been a scriptwriter instead.

YOU : yes i’m sure the oscars are weeping over the missed opportunity

He takes your sarcasm at face value, feeding you more ridiculous variants of faux french cum lingo—that which you very wisely choose not to reply to. Instead of humoring him, you open the .pdf file he’s sent your way, ignoring the near-constant buzzing of your phone as he’s no doubt pestering you for an immediate answer.

Had it not been necessary for business, you’d have blocked his number ages ago. In fact, after that nut sauce comment you’re seriously reconsidering, business obligations be damned. 

To his credit, the film project he suggests you work on doesn't sound half-bad despite its questionable title. Why anyone would choose to name it THE SPERMINATOR is beyond you.

As you read through the proposition, you’re surprised to find it’s tamer than the initial imaginary scenario you’d played out in your head. Expecting to read through a long list of unnameable kinks and dicks, the scene description is rather domestic all things considered.

Your shoulders sag in relief. You enjoy sex as much as the next person, but even you have limits you’re not willing or eager to cross. You’re a human being, first and foremost, and, contrary to popular belief, not competing in the sex olympics.

From what you’ve read so far, nothing in Seokjin’s offer seems too strenuous or perverse. The scene in question is centered around a young, newly married couple trying to conceive for the first time and the sex acts are described as “romantic insemination” - whatever the fuck that means. The only complication you can think of is that you’ve never played the part of a married couple before. None of your previous films specifically target couples or women. Is romance something you can sell accordingly?

You’re quick to shake the concern off once you remember that no one cares if your acting is shit or not. All you probably have to do is yell out ‘Daddy’ a few times mid-thrust and call it a day.

Honestly, you’re a bit disappointed in Seokjin for choosing such a safe, no-risk project - especially since he constantly advocates the risk-return trade off as the way to live by. But you’re not about to start complaining. You’d rather shoot this type of innocuous scenario than ridiculous, hentai-like scenes involving freakish get-ups and toys of monster proportions not realistically made to fit in a vagina.

The deal is perfect. Almost too perfect.

Subconsciously, you must realize something is wrong. Maybe Seokjin’s many lessons have finally rubbed off on you because there’s a persistent voice in your ear warning you that the film proposition is a trap, one that you’ve unfortunately walked straight into.

Your wariness increases when he refuses to send you the script upon request. Alarm bells ring off but by then it’s too late.

“The thing is... Director Ryu wants to try a new type of project," Seokjin says over the phone once you call him up for answers. "He thinks he’s going to pioneer a new genre of porn and revolutionize the industry - his words, not mine.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“How do I explain this without you getting the wrong idea..."

“Is this meant to reassure me?!” Dread drips from your tone. You should’ve suspected something was off from the very moment Seokjin suggested to shoot vanilla porn as your next big project. What a joke.

“Calm down, it's not as bad as - whatever you're thinking.” Too bad that his attempts to calm you down have the opposite effect. “He’s been wanting to try out a new improvisation format for his porn movies.”

“Come again?”

A beat of uncomfortable quiet passes. Reluctantly, Seokjin explains, “Which means - there isn’t an actual script to go off of. That’s why I couldn’t send it to you - because there is none. He wants it to be as realistic and natural as possible so he’s looking for actors who can go with their gut and create their own scenario instead of ones who need to be directed.”

Your resounding silence speaks for itself.

Sure, sometimes they provide scripts to act as guidelines, roughly giving the actor an idea of how the scene will unfold, but no one is expected to follow it word for word. Most porn films rely on improvisation rather than scripts because of how notoriously bad porn stars are at acting and memorizing more than a few lines at a time, and the introduction scene never lasts very long anyway for it to make a noticeable difference. Besides, after filming a handful of movies, you’ve noticed the dialogue is more or less all the same.

What bothers you is that this director wants you to carry out a movie that relies heavily on improvised dialogue. Convincingly.

“C’mon,” Seokjin tries when you refuse to deign him with an answer. “It’ll be fun. You like acting, right?”

“Seokjin...” You pinch the bridge of your nose and try to keep your composure in check. “How do I break this down for you? I think you’re forgetting the most crucial detail here - I can’t act! The closest I've ever gotten to acting is faking an orgasm and I’m pretty certain that doesn’t count."

“And you do that very well!" says Seokjin encouragingly. "You'll be fine. Don’t stress over it. Your scenes with Min Yoongi last time were perfectly acceptable!”

“That’s the thing.” Stress makes your voice raise a half-step. “He did, like, 90% of the acting! Back then, all I had to do was moan and act like a slut! Which hardly counts - I was being myself. Whatever this - thing - you’re attempting to rope me into - I’m not qualified for it.”

“Sweetheart, we’re not aiming for the fucking Oscars here.” When he laughs, it’s practiced enough to sound sincere. “At the end of the day, it’s still porn. Nobody’s expecting you to be the next Meryl. And besides,” he presses on, clearly refusing to change his mind. “This is exactly what you need right now. Something fresh, something new. If you pull this off, you’ll gain exposure.”

“If I pull it off. Big if."

“I know it sounds like a gamble. I get it, I do. But remember what I always say? High risk—”

“Yes, yes. High reward. I get it.” Your frown deepens. “There’s no way to know this will work, though.”

“A good co-star already guarantees you half of the success. And luckily for you, the guy they signed on seems like the real deal. He’s hot, you’re hot. People will pay money to see you two fuck regardless of how good or bad the acting is.”

“Well. That’s reassuring,” you say, voice as flat as a board. “Although I suppose watching porn on mute is always an option if it comes to that.”

“It was a joke!” What worries you is that it doesn’t sound like it is. “You have nothing to worry about. I’ve seen some of your co-star’s tapes. He’s got a mouth on him, if you know what I mean. Just let him lead and it’ll go swimmingly.”

“It’s one thing to follow someone’s lead during sex but you want me to - to improvise for God knows how long! That’s just asking for a disaster to happen.”

“You said you were up for a challenge!” Seokjin throws your words back at you, his tone accusing.

“And you said this would be beneficial for my career! How is making a fool out of myself going to help me any? I don’t want to be remembered as the girl who can’t act to save her life.” You want to cry in frustration. If you had wanted to act you would’ve chosen that as your major in college. “I don’t - I can’t do this. I’m not - this isn’t what I signed up for! How do you expect me to convince viewers what they’re watching is real...”

“Just—” Exasperated, he takes a deep breath. Exhales. “Trust me. When have I ever been wrong about film projects.”

Is putting your career at risk really worth it? You’re not sure anymore.

On the bright side, it’ll finally get Seokjin off your back, you reason, trying to remain positive. That in itself is worth celebrating, right?

Fine. You’ll agree to it out of pettiness. Once Seokjin realizes what a terrible idea this entire ordeal is, you won’t hesitate to rub it back in his face. He’ll never hear the end of it.

"Who am I working with, anyway?”

"Ah, hm, well." Hesitation creeps up his voice for the first time, putting you instantly on edge. "...You won't know him. He's new to the scene - got started a month or two ago, I forget."

"Great. Not only am I being used as a lab rat for this director to experiment on but you're also pairing me with a fucking rookie. Jesus.”

"He’s not half bad! He’s not bad at all, actually. I wouldn't be insisting if I didn't trust him not to blow his load early."

"Aren’t I lucky,” you deadpan. “So I don't have to worry about him busting a nut before the director gives the signal?"

“All you’ll have to do is act like a married couple with baby fever,” he talks over you, ignoring your overflowing sarcasm. “And how hard can that be? You’ve been loved up with Jumin for a month now - that’s plenty enough practice if you ask me. I know you’ll be able to sell that romantic shit to the public without too much trouble.”

“It’s Jimin,” you correct from force of habit.

You’re promptly ignored — not that you expected anything less from him.

"Just give it a thought? And get back to me when you make up your mind. The sooner the better. The offer won't stay on the table forever." Even over the line, you can picture Seokjin raising his eyebrows at you, expectant. “If you’re serious about this job, you know what you have to do.”

You both know that you’ll accept the offer. Seokjin’s got you all figured out. As much as you don’t like being pushed around, the need to prove yourself is your main driving factor. The acquaintances who sneer at you, the family members who’ve shun you, the peers who expect you to burn out after the five month mark—you’d rather roll over and die than prove their misconceptions right.

It’s a matter of pride when you sniff and reply, “I’ll think about it.”

But the decision is already made before the call ends.

.

.

SCENE 02 - THE SPERMINATOR. TAKE 02. ROLL B. 

.

Eight days later you find yourself squeezed into a brazenly short dress that zips in the front, more fit for a night out in a club than a dinner at home. It’s so ridiculously tight, you feel like a prey being swallowed down by a snake. There’s no room to breathe. You can’t wait for the scene to start, if only so you can dispose of the piece of fabric and never wear it again.

Unfortunately, your outfit gets worse because thrown over the clubbing attire is a frilly apron with small hearts embroidered along the hem. The mismatch is jarring. You’re not sure what look the stylist is going for but the end result is very...peculiar.

You comfort yourself with the knowledge that it could always be worse.

A quick glance at the digital clock on your phone confirms that you’re running on time. Good. After your last gig, the last thing you want is to spend hours waiting for the personnel to set up the cameras and sound equipment correctly.

Thankfully, today’s team works like a well-oiled machine. All that’s left are the last-minute preparations before the shoot begins.

Your false eyelashes are still drying when Seokjin elbows you sharply in the ribs. You crack open an eye to glare at him. “Ouch - ah, seriously? What is it now?”

“That’s him, that’s him!” Seokjin whispers under his breath, his gaze glued to a point somewhere beyond your shoulder. “Wooow. Aren’t you a lucky bitch? I’d gargle his nutté sauce for breakfast, if you get what I mean. He looks way better in person, damn.”

“Firstly - please never say that out loud again.” You fake a gag. “How do I buy myself a new set of ears?”

Seokjin ignores your dramatics. He shoots you a look. “You let that last guy draw a starfish on your face with his crème de la nut but did you hear me go sick?”

“That’s not the same and you know it!” Your jaw drops in indignation. “And can you stop trying to make nut cream a thing for the love of—”

“What’s this about nut cream?”

You whip your head around, mortification already etched onto your features. Your mouth opens, defense at the ready, only for your throat to clamp up.

“Oh.” You blink up in surprise because - well, Seokjin’s earlier assessment isn’t embellished. The guy is fit as fuck.

You’d seen photos in passing, had even googled his name out of curiosity, but the two-dimensional version of him pales to his real life physique. There’s a sharpness to his features that the camera fails to pick up on, a vibrancy that gets lost in the medium. 

“Hey. I’m Hoseok.” His grip is firm, assertive, and your eyes naturally wander over his form. The loose muscle tee he’s thrown on puts his toned arms on display and makes it easier to admire the seemingly endless expanse of sun-kissed skin. He’s neither too thick nor too spindly, his muscles lean and firm instead of bulging. Strong but not intimidating. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Likewise.” You swallow, mouth dry.

You expect him to leave it at that like most of your past co-stars usually do. Or worse - for him to abandon all pretenses and cross lines that aren’t meant to be crossed. As someone who has experienced it all - from standoffish to creepy and vile - nothing surprises you anymore.

But unlike your, admittedly low, expectations, his gaze is warm and friendly. He speaks smoothly, leaving no time for an awkward silence to instill itself.

“Yeah, I know who you are! I saw a video or two of yours before - you were featured on the agency’s main page last month, right? Fuckin’ genius, by the way. Best stuff I’ve seen in a long ass time.” An easy grin sits on his face, nothing about it fake or contrived. “I hope we get along today. I haven’t done much work myself - yet anyway - but I hope this can be a good experience for the both of us.”

“You’ll be in good hands,” Seokjin assures, patting your shoulder like a proud parent. “_____ here is the best talent I’ve signed on.”

“That I can believe,” Hoseok chimes, his smile never waning. “I’ve heard good stuff about you. I won’t lie - it reassured me a fuck ton when I heard I’d be working with you. The stuff we’re doing is, well, it’s a bit of a gamble at this point, but I’m sure it’ll go well because I’ll be working with you.”

For a brief, embarrassing moment, you’re robbed of words, unable to respond to his flattery. From experience, you know to be wary of guys like him. Whenever someone lays it on thick they always have an ulterior motive. But what could possibly be his?

“Seokjin’s saying that because I’m the only one who can stand his nagging,” you finally say, your shoulders stiff. Maybe it’s because you’ve just met, but it’s hard to figure him out and it doesn’t help that you’re naturally wary of strangers.

“Oh hush. You love me.” Sensing how guarded you’ve become, Seokjin mercifully offers you an out. “It was nice meeting you, Hoseok. Wish we could stay and chat but she has to get ready to film the pre-interview portion.”

“Oh yeah, that’s cool. Catch you later.”

You offer a quick smile he returns tenfold, its brightness momentarily dazzling you.

Slightly dazed from the intensity of it, you stagger behind Seokjin, sun spots dotting your vision. Your surroundings blur together as your mind tries to recover from the interaction.

“Sooooooooo?” Seokjin sing-songs once you’ve walked far enough to be out of earshot. His brows are raised knowingly, an infuriating type of smugness clinging to his features. “What did I tell you! He’s hot enough to single-highhandedly melt a glacier, huh?”

You scoff, not willing to admit anything. “He’s okay.”

“Oh c’mon. He’s baby daddy material for sure. Which works out well for you since he’s gonna pump one into you later.”

For once the grimace that crosses your face isn’t exaggerated. “Please. Stop. Talking. I’m this close to heaving out my lunch.”

You’re not even joking with that one. Attractive as Hoseok may be, any talk of baby-making is enough to dissipate any smidgens of lust.

The reminder of what the upcoming scene entails and the expectations people carry crash down on you like a pile of bricks. Although you’ve done your best to ignore the fact you’ll be acting today, the meeting with Hoseok yanks you harshly back to reality.

You’re going to act. As a married couple. Trying to conceive a baby.

Three things that have never, ever been on your bucket list are now about to be crossed out in the span of the same afternoon. To that you can only say - what the fuck is my life.

Like a mounting wave before the inevitable crash, panic crests within you. You feel it gradually build and build, flooding your lungs and every crevice of your body with overwhelming anxiety.

Seokjin sighs. “How are you going to make it through today? The whole point of the sex scene is to get you pregnant. Or fake pregnant. You know what I mean.”

“Um...” You try to laugh but it comes out shaky. Seokjin shoots you a concerned look. “I’ll be fine! Really! I can do it. It’s just acting like you said, right? It’s not like he’s actually gonna knock me up in real life. So. Totally fine. It’s fine. Perfect.”

Seokjin’s concern grows. His eyebrows pinch together and his expression turns serious. He asks with no trace of mockery, “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay!” you reply. It’s too rushed of an answer to convince him. Your palms feel clammy and you wipe them off your damned apron. “Just. Nervous. Y’know.”

His steps slow to a halt and he places a warm, heavy hand on your shoulder. The weight, familiar and comforting, grounds you to reality. “Hey. What’s there to be nervous about? You got this.”

“Yeah.” You nod. Maybe if you say it enough times you’ll trick yourself into believing it. “I’ve got this.”

“Look. Let me be honest for a second. I’ve been an agent for eight years now and I’ve seen a lot of talents come and go. No pun intended.” You smile back at him weakly. “You’ve got something...extra a lot of them lacked. I knew the moment I saw you on film you’d go far. The energy you bring onscreen is insane. I know today might seem new and strange - but so was your first ever professionally shot film, right? And you got through that fine. You’ll do great. I know it. And, not to toot my own horn, but I’m always right.”

That earns him a laugh. The nerves are still there but thanks to his pep talk it’s easier to breathe.

Despite being a big pain in the ass, Seokjin is exemplary at his job. Without him, you’re acutely aware you wouldn’t have gotten half as far as you have. Having him by your side is a reassurance in itself.

Someone calls your name, pulling you from your thoughts. When you turn around, you’re face to face with the round, bespectacled face of Director Ryu. You reckon he’s in his early forties but he acts younger than his age. It’s your first time working with him but so far he’s been nice enough, if a little full of himself. Not that you’re unaccustomed with working alongside conceited colleagues.

“Oh good, you’re back. You can get seated for the interview bit.” He points over to a chair placed in front of a pale yellow wall. From close up, you can see a paint job is in order, the old coat chipping off in several places. “Alright, this won’t last long - just need you to answer some questions on tape and we’ll be good to go.”

“Sure thing.” You nod and follow his directions, sitting still while the hair and make-up artist steps up to give your lips a final touch-up.

Strictly speaking, the before and after interviews aren’t a necessity. In your experience, directors mostly film the short question-and-answer sequence when you’re set to film hardcore sex scenes as a way to show viewers everything is consensual and that you thoroughly enjoyed the experience despite whatever might have transpired on screen.

You reckon the director wants to film you today to document the process behind his “groundbreaking film project”. Cue roll of eyes.

Somebody needs to tell him he isn’t inventing anything, you think while watching him fiddle with the camera until he’s completely satisfied with the angle. All he’s done so far is add unnecessary pressure on you. You hope Hoseok is faring better because the amount of performance anxiety you’re experiencing is an instant boner killer.

“You nervous?” the director asks once he’s done adjusting the camera lens.

While by some standards you’re still considered a newbie in the industry, you’ve done this enough times to fall into a routine. Wake-up, breakfast, get ready, arrive before call time, fill out all the paperwork and get ready to shoot your solo stills. It’s familiar enough that you’ve long stopped getting pre-performance jitters.

Today’s rush of anxiety is as surprising as it is unwelcome. They don’t want to hear that particular truth though, so you keep your reply sweet and bubbly.

“Nah,” you grin, wide and easy. “I’m super excited to film today!”

“Oh yeah? Is it perhaps because of your co-star?”

Your smile freezes for a second. Somewhere over the director’s shoulder you can see Seokjin nodding enthusiastically while giving you the double thumbs up. “Hoseok? He’s hot, sure.”

“Ooh. Already on a first name basis?”

“Hm?” you let out a noise of polite confusion, only belatedly realizing that his viewers know him better as his porn alias, J-Hope. But there’s no way in hell you’re going to yell that out loud while he’s fucking an orgasm out of you. Not only does it sound ridiculous but it’ll shatter whatever carefully crafted illusion you manage to build. “Um, yes. We’re getting to know each other. He’s very friendly.”

“I’m sure he is.” And there’s an implication there that doesn’t sit too well with you but thankfully Director Ryu chooses to move on and put that particular subject to rest.

“You ever shoot an insemination scene before?”

“Not yet.” You make sure to keep the smile on your face even if your cheeks are beginning to hurt. “I can’t wait to get to it. It’s a fantasy I’ve always had but never tried out for myself. I’m excited to film a first on camera!”

The director has yet to call you out for your bullshit so you slowly start to relax. Acting is a bit like lying, isn’t it? Maybe you can get through today after all.

You breeze through the rest of the questions, forcing out practiced laughs here and there all whilst keeping your voice syrupy sweet. It’s quick work, especially when you know what to expect. Before you know it, it’s already time to film the pièce de résistance. Everyone that’s allowed on set during filming filters into the kitchen, conversations between crew members dying down as they use their last recreational moments to check their phones.

The director’s filming style exempts you from shooting the customary pre-shoot sex stills which are essentially promotional pictures of you and and your partner in every sex position that you’ll be filming for real later on. You’re thankful for that, at least. Even with all of your on-camera experience, staying perfectly silent and still with someone’s dick inside you is no easy feat. It’s worse when you have to keep eye contact with your co-star and fake sexual gratification because the shot calls for it.

Hoseok waves at you from the other side of the room, the hair and makeup artist dusting some powder across the slope of his nose.

How can he look so relaxed?! You’re barely holding your lunch down. Honestly, it’s a miracle you’re able to now tat the butterflies are back in full force, making a mess of your stomach.

You feel queasy but try not to make it too obvious even as Seokjin comes around to check up on you. The last thing you want to do is make a scene, especially when your onscreen counterpart's demeanor is making you look amateurish in comparison.

Maybe Hoseok is a better actor than you’re able to give most porn stars credit for because try as you might, you fail to detect any nervous undercurrent in his tone. For someone who is supposedly starring in his first major project, he doesn’t seem all too bothered about how it might play out.

How does he do it?! In all honesty, if Seokjin hadn’t informed you of his rookie status, you would be none the wiser.

There’s an ease with which he carries himself, a fluidity in his movements that belies no anxiety or awkwardness. Even from this distance you can tell that there’s never a hint of hesitation in his movements or speech; he doesn’t seem self-conscious in the least. He talks and moves with the assurance of someone who has been in the industry for months, not weeks.

In that moment you envy him. You’re so nervous about the upcoming scene that it’s hard to feign an air of professional detachment.

His boisterous laugh is loud enough to carry across the room and interrupt your line of thought. When you look over at him again, you find him folded in half, hands clutching his sides, and wearing a grin so bright it eclipses the entirety of his face.

“He seems nice.”

You jump, startled by Jimin’s sudden appearance. You hadn’t even heard him draw near. With a sheepish expression, you turn to look up at him only to find him already staring off into the distance. There’s a strange look painting his face, and a small crease in his brow that usually isn’t present. When you follow his line of sight, you’re met with the image of Hoseok talking animatedly to the the small crowd that’s flocked around him.

“Yeah.” You aren’t sure what else to say. Although there’s no sarcasm attached to his words, you can’t help but find Jimin unnaturally tense.

Which makes sense, you concede guiltily. A mere stranger is minutes away from dicking down his girlfriend. You’re not sure how you’d feel if you were to stand in his shoes.

You breathe in deep, silently willing away the knot of distress in your belly. There’s nothing wrong with what you’re doing. It’s just a job. A profession that Jimin has always been fully aware of, even before you’d begun dating.

Even as you remind yourself of the facts, it does little to dispel the lingering feelings of doubt and guilt.

“Hey.” Jimin frowns at you in concern. “You alright?”

“Yep!” you say then immediately sigh, knowing that lying to your boyfriend is pointless. “I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Nervous?” Jimin’s worry grows, the crease in his brow deepening. “What about?”

“Just—” You gesture around with your hands. “All of this.”

“Oh.” He looks genuinely surprised. “But you don’t usually get nervous... Is it the impregnation thing you’ll have to do? I know you’ve said you’re not a big fan of that. Or... Is it something else?”

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully. It’s a bit of everything yet at the same time nothing you can clearly pinpoint and put a finger on. In all logic, you know that you’re feeling disproportionately stressed out but you can’t stop yourself from feeling how you feel. “It’s not that I don’t want to film. I just - I’m worried I won’t do well.”

Jimin takes your hand between his, running a thumb in soothing circles across the surface of your skin. He repeats the motion several times until your heartbeat is completely synced to his touch.

“You’ll do great. You always do.” The lines of his mouth bend into a smile. “I’ll be on the sidelines cheering you on.”

“My very own cheerleader.” You allow yourself to relax and and smile back fondly.

As much as you worry about Jimin being upset with you filming sex scenes with other actors, he’s never been anything less than the supporting boyfriend you’ve always dreamed of. Seokjin calls Jimin’s constant presence on set maddening, but you’re thankful that your boyfriend sticks by your side while others might flee or shame you.

Suddenly, you’re overcome with emotion. Maybe it’s the stress, or maybe today you’re more hormonal than usual, but your eyes threaten to well up as you grip his palm tightly in your own. “Jimin, I—”

“Okay, lovebirds!” Seokjin claps his hands once, effectively ruining your moment. “Hand-holding time is over. We’re moving onto the more R-rated stuff.”

“Seokjin!” you hiss, upset over his horrible timing.

“It’s fine.” Jimin shakes his head. “He’s right, shoot’s about to start anytime soon. I need to get ready, too.”

“Right.”

Reluctantly, you let go of Jimin’s hand.

“Don’t pout.” He laughs and presses a quick, chaste kiss to your mouth. “I’ll wait for you after filming and we can go grab dinner. Italian sound fine?”

“Yes, yes, yes.” You bob your head eagerly. “I’m literally dying for carbs. Italian sounds more than perfect.”

“Good.” 

You can’t resist sneaking in one last peck before Jimin retreats behind the cameras and you’re pulled to stand in front of a granite kitchen tabletop. Director Ryu is waiting for you, Hoseok already by his side.

From close-up, your co-star looks even more striking. The make-up artist’s work highlights his features without going overboard. The lines of his face are sharp, like every single one has been meticulously drawn. What usually would give someone a hostile and unapproachable impression is balanced out by the liveliness that lights up his eyes and his wide smile that looks almost too big for his face.

“It’ll start in the kitchen and then we’ll work out way to the bedroom.” Director Ryu points down the hallway. “I was thinking of keeping it all in the bedroom but nothing screams domesticity more than kitchen scenes, right?”

“Uh-huh.” You give a polite nod. Next to you, Hoseok coughs into his fist.

“Depending on how this goes we might have to take several takes - just keep that in mind.”

That’s nothing out of the ordinary. Sex scenes are never filmed in one take. There’s always one thing or another - a smoke break, a flaccid dick, a lighting fixture that needs to be changed. A 45 minute porn movie is the result of the editing team that painstakingly goes through, cuts and assembles hours of footage.

“Remember,” Director Ryu instructs, one hand cocked on his hips. “You’re still stuck in that honeymoon phase. All the two of you want to do is fuck like horny bunnies but your husband’s been away all day. Both of you have been waiting for this reunion for hours and hours. I want to feel that level of tension, got it?”

Hoseok nods like a dutiful student, his expression comically serious. You’d laugh if it wasn’t so inappropriate.

“Yep. Ok. Got it.”

You just want the director to stop talking so that you can get this over with quickly. The monologue is just delaying the inevitable.

Director Ryu spends extra minutes setting up the scene, emphasizing how in love and passionate the two of you should behave, describing how long you’ve been wanting to try for a baby, going into explicit detail about what the sex scenes should convey to the viewers. He just goes on and on and on with no end it sight.

At this point even Hoseok is growing restless. His feet refuse to stay still and his eyes dart around the room as if his attention is drawn elsewhere. It’s Hoseok’s constant fidgeting that draws Director Ryu out of his monologue. He finally senses that there’s a unanimous decision to start filming and retires behind the camera to settle himself in his appointed chair.

Hoseok shares a long look with you. “Is he always like that?”

“God, I hope not.” You lower your voice to whisper, “Seokjin - my agent - he says apparently Director Ryu wanted to make a career off of documentaries once he graduated from film school but quickly switched genres once he saw how little filming the mating habits of koalas was earning him.”

“Ah,” Hoseok nods conspiratorially before his features shift into something more serious. “Hey. Before we start, is there anything you’re not comfortable with? I know this scene is supposed to lean towards vanilla but you never know... I’d rather make sure. Just in case.”

You blink, taken aback. Hard limits aren’t really discussed outside of hardcore scenes. Sure, everyone is given a safeword before shoots begin but even screaming out “STOP!” or “Can we take a break from filming?” is enough to put the filmed scene on hold.

“Ah... No. I’m okay. But thanks for asking.” A moment passes and you add, “Is there - are there any words or kinks that bother you?”

Hoseok shakes his head. “Not for this one. Just - if there’s anything you’d rather me not say or do, don’t hesitate.”

You nod in reply, not sure of what else to say. Unfortunately your past experiences with men have made you suspicious of any form of flattery or kindness.

Soon, though, you relax. What reason is there for Hoseok to deceive you? Maybe he still has that rookie mindset. You can relate to the eagerness and the desire to do well you’d had in your early days of filming.

“Alright. Good luck, Hoseok.”

His smile is so bright that it erases your previous doubts. Surely someone with ill-intentions wouldn’t be able to smile like that, right? You return a tentative smile of your own. Something akin to understanding seems to pass between you. Although you don’t know Hoseok and he doesn’t know you, you trust him enough for this scene.

The moment is broken when Director Ryu directs Hoseok to wait outside the camera’s line of vision and you’re left alone in front of the kitchen stove.

Any moment now, you think. A telltale silence falls over the staff members as they all anticipate the director’s signal for the scene to start.

The first few seconds are always tricky. You’re no actress. There’s no switch inside of you that flips on and off as soon as the director commands “ACTION!” and “CUT!”. The world around you doesn’t fade out, your ‘porn star persona’ doesn’t claw its way out from within you and lunge for the nearest available dick. Sometimes, if you’re not attracted to your onscreen partner, you find your mind drifting off, making an inventory of your fridge and wondering what you’ll be able to cook up for dinner with two eggs and leftover rice.

When Director Ryu shouts “ACTION!” and slams down the plate, you freeze up. Usually you have an idea of what to say or do, but the words and actions won’t come to you this time.

Someone behind the cameras lets out a light cough. Oh right, you blink down at the simmering pot of water in front of you. The cameras are recording you making an utter fool out of yourself.

The spike of humiliation forces you into action. You’re more professional than this, damn it. You give the water a tentative stir, movements wooden and stiff. It’s hard to concentrate. All you can do is watch as the water simmers to a boil, the sound of bubbling water like a roaring current in your ears.

A door creaks open, signalling your onscreen husband’s return home.

To your horror, you find that you’re unable to move, as if your limbs had forgotten their primary function.

Before the scene had started, you had envisioned yourself throwing yourself into the arms of your loving husband and welcoming him home with a shower of kisses and words of affection. You had internally rehearsed it, had even thought of what you could say to him between pecks, but the reality is far removed from what you had practiced.

“Darling?” Hoseok’s voice is soft but loud enough for you to hear him over the angry sounds of boiling water. The vowels he uses are rounded, different from the bright pep in his tone from earlier. 

You want to respond but your tongue feels like lead, too heavy in your mouth to articulate and form the proper reply. What are you supposed to call him, anyway? Honey? Hoseok? A nickname derived from his name? What do newlywed spouses call each other? Why couldn’t you give this more thought before the cameras began rolling?

Panic balloons inside you, threatening to burst. For a terrifying and mortifying second, you think that you’ve gone and ruined everything. The muscles in your shoulders bunch up and you half-expect the director to shout ‘CUT!’, give you a public scolding for missing your cue and berate you for your overall ineptitude.

Hoseok’s arms wrap around your middle before you have time to agonize any further. Just as you suspected, his arms are strong, the lean muscles flexing as he readjusts his hold around your waist. What you don’t expect, however, is the unadulterated warmth he radiates. His body burns hot; even through the layers of clothing separating the two of you, his warmth seeps through. But it’s strangely comfortable, not unlike basking in the afternoon sun during the last days of summer. You let yourself melt into his embrace.

“You’re not even going to say hi?”

With your back turned to him, you can’t be sure, but you imagine the pout playing at his lips. He tucks his chin in the crook of your shoulder. If he feels any awkwardness, he doesn’t let it show.

Miraculously, your mouth seems to be in working order again. It takes you a few seconds too long to find the appropriate answer, but it finally comes before the director can cut in to make any remarks.

“If I turn around right now, I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you,” you explain. “And - I don’t want to ruin our dinner.”

Just to keep up the pretense, you add a handful of spaghetti into the pot of water.

Hoseok lets out a hum from behind you. He’s standing close enough for you to feel the vibrations low in his throat.

“I hate it,” he says after a stretch of silence.

You pout. “What? My cooking? What’s wrong with it?”

“No, silly. I hate -” he sighs, buries his face in your neck before looking back up so the camera can capture his expression. “I hate not being with you. I missed this.”

He hugs you from behind before kissing your neck. It starts off innocuous - his lips pressing short, chaste kisses down the column of your throat. Quickly, however, his mouth lingers on your skin.

“Ah - don’t. I’m cooking!” you shriek when his teeth scrape over a sensitive spot under your jaw. Your protests are half-hearted and go by unacknowledged. The pot of pasta could overflow right now and no one would care, least of all you.

Hoseok noses your neck while he tightening his grip around your waist, the movement bringing his hips flush against your lower back. You give the pot in front of you a very unenthusiastic stir, attention focused instead on the way his lips tenderly skim the surface of your skin, testing and teasing. The sensation feels nice - and keeps your mind off of the several cameras directed your way.

“But I went all day missing my princess,” he sighs, open mouthed against your neck. “Spent all day thinking about you.”

“Y-you did?”

“Mhm.” He gives your exposed shoulder a peck. Then another. “Thought about your cute little laugh.”

His line catches you off guard. Your mouth opens but no sound comes out.

Porn is often crude and to the point. You’re used to men complimenting your body parts or praising your skills in bed. You’d never minded, either. But Hoseok’s choice of words make you eager in a different way.

“What else?”

“Well, your cooking, for sure. Without you I’d be eating out of ramyeon packets for breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

You let out a snort.

“That’s true. Your cooking is so horrible it’s offensive.”

“Hey now. Don’t be mean.” He pokes your cheek before pinching your chin to turn your head towards him. “I can cook a decent omelet.”

Hoseok’s a good few inches taller than you so you have to strain your neck to be able to look him in the eyes. The slight discomfort barely registers. You’re too transfixed by the way he stares at you. It’s hard to place the expression because you’ve never seen it on a fellow actor before. Normally, the men you work with stare you down with hungry and lustful intent, but there’s none of that in Hoseok’s gaze.

The expression on his face cannot be described as innocent, either. He licks his lips, drawing your attention to the pretty lines of his mouth delicately curved into a smile.

“I missed the way you feel in my arms.” His voice sounds deeper, this time. “I missed holding you close to me. Kissing you. Reminding you how much I love you. I missed the look in your eyes when - “

“When?”

He smirks. “You sure you want to hear it? What if you can’t keep your hands off of me after? I don’t want to be held responsible for soggy pasta.”

“Hoseok,” you whine, one of your hands reaching down to slap at the hold around your stomach. 

He tightens his hold around you and your breath hitches, suddenly all too aware of how firm his body feels behind you. The smirk on his face widens as he leans forward to confess his next words.

“I was thinking about how I miss the look on your face whenever I make your pussy sloppy with my cum.”

“Hoseok!”

One moment he’s crooning sweet words of affection, the next he’s spitting out filth. The quick back-and-forth gives you whiplash but you can’t say you dislike it. Unlike the tired and overused clichéd porn scenarios you’ve filmed in the past, Hoseok’s unpredictable behavior has the advantage of keeping you on your toes.

“You missed it too, hm?” He kisses your neck, lips soft and warm. “Kept thinking about how pretty you sound. So, so pretty. Especially when I give you what you want.”

“How would you know what I want?” You turn your head forwards so you can pretend to check up on the cooking pasta. “You were away all day.”

Hoseok’s eyes flash dangerously.

“How would I know?” he parrots back, his tone sweet and mocking. Something about it sends tingles down your spine and has you standing up straighter. “I always know what my pretty wife wants. I know because your body can’t lie to me.”

His hands wander, one of them inching up the material of your frilly apron to reach between your breasts. The movement is slow enough for a camera to zoom in and follow its trail. Hoseok rests his hand on your left breast and gives it a squeeze.

“See?” He repeats the action. “Your heart’s racing like crazy.”

You swallow audibly, finding it hard to come up with a witty riposte.

He continues with a chuckle, “You can’t deny it, can you? Your body’s too honest for your own good. It’s okay. You don’t have to say you missed me. I know.”

His self-assured way of talking makes it easier for you to react. This - the cockiness, the playfulness - you’re familiar with.

You roll your eyes and continue to give the pot in front of you a few additional stirs only for your breath to hitch when he starts to grind his hips against your lower back in time with your stirs.

Fuck is your only coherent thought. He rolls his hips so well it’s impossible not to imagine them doing something else. Your bottom lip grows numb from how hard you bite it.

“Of course I missed you.” You keep your tone as light as possible, determined not to show that his words and actions affect you.

Hoseok’s eyes narrow. He removes his hands from around you but keeps his front pressed against your back. He smiles again, dimples poking through.

“You don’t sound convinced... That’s fine.” It sounds like the beginning of a challenge and you soon learn why.

His nimble fingers play with the knot of your apron and you tense, expecting him to make quick work of your clothes and dive straight into dessert, so to speak. Once again, he surprises you by leaving the apron alone, hands falling to his sides.

His knees hit the floor, the noise startling you. Before you have the chance to truly react, he’s quick to pull your hips backwards until your back is arched. The sudden change in position forces you to adjust your stance so as to keep your balance.

“Hoseok?” you start to question but he cuts you off with a tut and light smack to your ass.

“You just keep your eye on dinner like you were doing before.” His fingers play with the hem of your short dress, stretching the fabric until it bunches up around your hips and leaves your lacy thong on display. “You can do that, right?”

Flustered by the position he’s maneuvered you into, with your hips thrust back obscenely, legs splayed wide and pussy on show, you grip the wooden spoon in your hand with more force than necessary. “It’s just pasta. I can manage.”

Maybe you sound less indifferent than intended because Hoseok seems more amused than offended by your feinted nonchalance. He barks out a laugh, his hands spreading the meat of your cheeks aside to get a better view of your lace-covered bits.

Privately, you wish you could witness his reaction. If there’s anything that turns you on, it’s knowing how much someone else wants you. If feels good to know that you’re wanted and desired. Even if fucking is part of your job description, the act needs to be mutually enjoyable for you to be completely satisfied.

“Sure.” The lilt in his voice is so sweet that it borders on condescending. “While you do that, I think I’ll have my appetizer.”

It’s corny, overused and a little degrading - exactly the type of one-liner you’d ordinarily find in porn - but he gives you no time to call him out for it. As soon as he’s done talking, he wags his tongue out and drags it across the red lace, and the repeated up and down motions quickly dampen your panties.

You notice with great frustration that he takes care to avoid your clit, focusing instead on licking broad stripes over slit and, to your surprise, around your rim.  He doesn’t stop until your underwear drips with the accumulation of your essence and his saliva. The soaked lace rubs against you, the rough texture adding pressure to your most sensitive zones, until you can’t tell if the extra sensation is a blessing or a curse. Your hips jerk forward every so often, unsure if you’d rather lean into or escape his torturous games. Because as amazing as Hoseok’s tongue feels, you know your body well enough to be able to tell that this particular tempo won’t bring you to your peak.

An appetizer, he had called it. That’s exactly what the teasing ministrations feel like - a small sampling before the main course. It’s satisfying and maddening in its own way. Good, but not enough to satisfy your ravenous appetite.

He unearths himself from your dripping core, chin shiny with your juices.

“Keep focus,” he instructs as he slots two fingers inside of you. You’re wet enough that they slide in without too much difficulty, the stretch making your stomach clench. “I thought you said you knew how to cook pasta.”

Against your will, you force yourself to focus on the bubbling water in front of you. As much as you want to push your hips back and ride his fingers until you’re pushed over the edge, you can’t take the humiliation of messing up pasta - even if it is for the sake of a porn scenario.

It’s fucking pasta! You have to be seriously inept to mess up such a simple dish...

But what should have been an effortless task becomes more challenging than expected. Hoseok refuses to go easy on you. If anything, your stubborn silence is all the motivation he needs to thrust his fingers inside of you harder, curving them at an angle that makes your knees wobble. You struggle to keep any incriminating noises at bay but despite your best efforts, several muffled moans slip out one after the other.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, the logical side of you points out how dangerous all of this is. What if, during your impending orgasm, your body seizes up and knocks the boiling water everywhere during the process? You quickly switch off the gas stove at the thought. Better be safe than sorry.

Just then, Hoseok adds his tongue to the mix, his fingers relentless in their pursuit of your pleasure. You bite back a curse as the wooden spoon slips from your hold and clatters to the floor.

“Ah fu - Oh God,” you stutter, hands holding on to the edge of the counter for dear life.

You’ve been eaten out God knows how many times in your life, but not many have instinctively known what really gets you going. Hoseok laps at your core, tongue collecting the moisture that seeps through the fabric of your ruined panties, while his fingers scissor you open for his cock.

Your stomach clenches as you imagine how well he’d fill you up. Who the hell would ever want pasta for dinner when Hoseok could feed you his cock instead? Definitely not you, that’s for sure.

It’s easy to picture it. All he’d need to do is stand up, unzip his pants and spear you open with a practiced roll of his hips. Maybe he’d make you toss a salad while he fucks you from behind, slapping your ass whenever you forget to keep stirring the ingredients together. Or perhaps he’d let you ride his dick on the kitchen floor, too impatient to make it to a more comfortable surface.

Your imagination knows no bounds. Once you start, you can’t stop thinking of more lascivious scenarios, each one more daring and debauched than the last. The heat between your legs becomes unbearable and still, you ache for more.

Hoseok pulls away from the apex of your thighs and snorts, the sound pulling you out of your depraved thoughts. The pace of his thrusting slows down without stopping completely, his fingers still pressed deep within you. Your arms tremble as they try to keep you upright, knuckles white from the strength of your grip around the counter’s edge. You exhale shakily.

A whine works its way into your voice. “Why - why’d you stop?”

Ignoring your protests, he pops his fingers out of you and indulges in one last lick of your swollen pussy, before gathering to his feet. He rolls down your dress back over your bum and peers over your shoulder, acting as nothing had ever happened.

“Thought you said you’d take care of dinner, hm?” Hoseok has the gall to hum in disappointment.

Your mouth opens in outrage. “You!”

Hoseok pouts. “I thought we said you wouldn’t blame me for any soggy pasta.”

“You’re impossible,” you say without any real heat to your words.

“But you love me that way.”

He smiles as he leans in to kiss you, lips sticky and warm. You follow the pace he sets as best you can, unaccustomed to the way he takes his time - like you’re a delicacy that demands to be savored and not gulped down. On-screen kisses are usually rushed, messy, with too much tongue. They’re a scripted affair, more for show than out of real affection. When men tuck back your hair behind your ear or palm your cheek, it’s only to better angle your face for the camera.

There is something intimate about the way he holds you, the way he looks at you. Inwardly, you can't help but admire his acting skills. There’s something tender about the way he handles you that’s distinctly different from any of your previous onscreen partners. Sure, you’ve shot vanilla sex scenes before, but never of this variety. None of the male actors’ performances have made you wish, even fleetingly, foolishly, that the scene was real.

Hoseok pulls up for air before your mind can wander off completely, his panting mouth a hairsbreadth away. Lips touching but not quite.

Blearily, you blink your eyes open. You’re close enough that your noses brush against one another, your breaths mingling together. Hoseok’s eyes remain closed throughout, like he doesn’t want the moment to end. He looks so content that you can’t bring yourself to do anything else but melt further into his embrace, gaze drinking in the minute details of his face - like the tiny moles dotting his cheekbone and upper lip and the pretty curve of his eyes.

“And cut!”

You both jump away from each other, startled. For a second there, the storyline you’d been instructed to follow had slipped from your mind. You’re unsure if the lapse in judgement is good or bad but you don’t let the question linger in your thoughts. You’ll have plenty of time to dissect your performance at a later time.

“Good, good. That wasn’t what I was expecting but I don’t think anyone has any objections?” Director Ryu claps his hands. “Fifteen minute break sound good everyone? Then we’ll relocate to the bedroom to shoot the next part.”

There’s a general hum of agreement from the crew members. Chairs and various other equipment scrape the floor as the personnel prepare to migrate to the other room for filming. Jimin’s gaze meets yours briefly but all he can do is smile weakly in your direction before he’s ordered to help push some of the equipment down the hall.

Someone comes up to you with a bottle of water while another steps closer to blot the beads of sweat near your hairline and reapply a layer of lipstick. The make-up artist knits her brows in concentration until she’s satisfied with the touch-ups. She then moves on to Hoseok, make-up palette and brush at the ready, and grumbles loudly about the sticky residue covering his face. You hear Hoseok bellow a laugh, the sound so infectious that even the make-up artist joins in. 

You sip your water through a straw, careful not to smudge your freshly applied lipstick, and check your phone for any missed messages.

“Was all of that okay?”

“Hm?” You look up and are surprised to see Hoseok stare at you expectantly. “I, uh, know some girls aren’t into ass play. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked before jumping the gun but I figured - since you said there wasn’t anything major you were adverse to filming...”

His voice trails off.

“I liked it.” The admission is an easy one. “It did take me by surprise, but - I don’t have any complaints.”

“Ah, really?” Hoseok’s mouth corners upturn in relief. “That’s good to know. I was thinking - for the next scene - what if - I mean, are you okay with calling me Daddy?”

You tilt your head as you mull over the proposition.

“Daddy?”

“It’s not - you don’t have to. But listening to Director Ryu go on earlier made me think of something we could do. I think it fits well with the general idea. What do you think?”

“I’m fine with it.” Using the title doesn’t make you squeamish so you shrug in compliance. It’s not the first you’ve had to incorporate a daddy kink into the scene and it likely won’t be the last. You don’t see why you wouldn’t or shouldn’t do it with Hoseok. “I’ll follow your lead like I’ve been doing.”

It’s only as you’re following him towards the bedroom that you recall that you’ve yet to get to the crux of the scene - the damned impregnation kink. Even though you’re considerably less nervous than you’d been an hour or two ago, the thought of begging someone you barely know for something so intimate makes your stomach flip-flop. You don’t even have unprotected sex with Jimin and he’s your boyfriend.

Speaking of Jimin, you try to sneak in a peck or two before filming but Director Ryu intercepts you before you can make a beeline to where Jimin’s stationed behind a camera.

“How are you feeling?” The overhead light reflects off his round glasses and makes it impossible to hold eye contact unless you want to become semi-permanently blind.

“Good---”

“Wonderful. Well, we’ve positioned cameras here, here, and over there. There’ll be another camera man who’ll film with a handheld camera for closeups. Just keep that in mind. I know we’re giving you free-range to do what you feel is best and most natural but I’d hate to ask you to re-shoot because the camera couldn’t capture the both of you properly.”

You nod and he continues, “Also - please remember that you’re acting as a horny young married couple. I remember at that age I was up for anything, you get what I’m saying? People think just because you put a ring on your finger the sex automatically becomes stale. Fuck that. Show people married couples are freaks in the sheet.”

“Uh... Alright. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He claps a hand over your shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”

Freaks in the sheet? What did he expect you to do? Try out all the sex positions in the Kama Sutra?

“What did he want now?” Hoseok leans over to whisper once you’re seated comfortably on the bed. You’re hoping the mics don’t pick up the conversation but would rather not take the risk of being overheard bad-mouthing the director.

Shrugging, you say, “Just that this scene should be spicier.”

Hoseok raises his brow, lips quirking into a smirk. “That so?”

The same cockiness you’d caught a glimpse of during your escapade in the kitchen is back and the memory you associate it with makes the back of your neck prickle with heat. You clear your throat and avert your eyes.

Thankfully Director Ryu interrupts before Hoseok has the chance to fluster you further. You follow each of the director’s voiced directives until you’re comfortably seated on Hoseok’s lap, dress hitched around your waist because of how far your knees are spread on either side of Hoseok’s thighs. There’s a quick, last minute adjustment as Director Ryu ensures that the camera in the left corner picks up on everything it’s supposed to.

Satisfied, he lets you take the reins from there, then gives the cameras the signal to begin rolling.

You don’t waste a moment, taking his earlier commentary to heart. It’s your turn to pepper kisses all over Hoseok’s golden skin, leaving faint traces of rouge behind like an artist signing their own painting. You stop a few times to admire your work. Lip prints and lavender bite marks color his skin and the sight awakens a possessive streak you didn’t know you had.

Your enthusiasm to mark him up gets a little out of hand.

"Mhm." Hoseok grunts when you lick over a sensitive spot under his jaw. "Slow down, princess. There's no rush. We have all night."

He cups his chin between his hands so you have no choice but to relent and direct your gaze up at him. You’re pleased to see that he’s not completely indifferent to your touch; despite his instructions to take it slow, the smoldering look in his eyes tell a different story.

He runs the pad of his thumb over your lower lip, the pink flesh no doubt swollen. You take the digit in your mouth, unprompted, and run your tongue against its underside, wishing that his cock could fill your mouth instead.

Hoseok makes a noise low in his throat, not quite a growl but close.

"And I intend to take my time with you." The look he levels you with promises a night full of mind-numbing pleasure. Ribbons of heat curl around the base of your spine. "Want to make you feel good."

"You do," you agree, words muffled around the thumb you refuse to let go of.

You take a hold of his wrist and free your mouth, only to quickly replace it with his forefinger and middle finger. The stretch of two digits makes you moan lewdly.

Hoseok’s eyes darken. He lets you play for a few more seconds before he takes back control, his fingers pushing deeper into your mouth until they hit the back of your throat. You swallow down a gag, but his fingers don’t let you rest for long. He drags them over the flat of your tongue, watching as spit dribbles down past the sides of your mouth, and repeats the motion, pumping into your mouth steadily like he would a cock.

As nice as it feels to be filled with his fingers, whether in your cunt or mouth, you’re ready for more. Subconsciously, your hips grind down in his lap, shifting this way and that until you’re perfectly seated over his hardened length.

Drool is pushed out of your mouth as Hoseok squeezes a third fingers in with the other two. You suck harder, hoping that all your efforts will spur Hoseok into finally fucking you. The knowledge that he has to, at one point or another, keeps you from whining and begging pathetically for his cock. You can exercise patience if you put your mind to it; you’re sure of it. 

Your on-screen husband decides to test that resolve.

His other hand starts to wander south, his fingers toying with the short hem of your dress that’s been rucked up even higher with all your rocking and grinding. The movement of your hips slow, your brain unable to keep up with the stimuli coming in all directions.

A crack resounds in the room, the sharp sound startling you more than the sting that accompanies it. Hoseok’s palm rubs over the heated area, only inflaming it further.

“And who told you you could stop?”

The second slap is notably harsher than the first, and your hips automatically lurch forward hoping perhaps to lessen the impact of the sting.

You know he doesn’t expect a verbal answer; his second hand keeps your mouth plugged up, making any attempt at talking unintelligible. It doesn’t stop you from trying, only because you know the muffled protest are greatly appreciated amongst viewers. And if the way Hoseok’s digs his fingers into your smarting ass cheek is any indicator, you’re confident that he also enjoys your squirming and messy display.

“Keep moving, princess. I need both your holes nice and wet.”

The way his voice dips an octave makes your stomach twist in arousal. You long to tell him that you’re sufficiently wet enough for him to slide his cock inside right away but all you manage are pitiful garbled words.

He raises an eyebrow at your delayed response and your hips move before he can smack the globes of your ass for a third time. You have an inkling he’ll only hit harder with the intention of leaving marks of his own all over your skin.

It’s a careful balancing act, but you figure it out as you go. Bounce too fast and the fingers in your mouth will make you gag. Move too slowly for his liking and he won’t hesitate to add to the collection of handprints on your ass.

You lose track of how long he makes you play this game. Your mind focuses on sucking while keeping your jaw slack enough to accomadate the width of three digits. Drool pools down your chin, and you’re certain whatever the make-up artist had done to your lips is now ruined. Worse off are your panties. At the stage they’re at now, you’ll have no choice but to throw them out. Hoseok’s pants might need be as unsalveagable as your thong, you think inwardly, judging by the large, dark wet spot you’re currently sitting on.

“Mmh, good girl.” 

He gently slides his fingers out, strings of saliva attached. He hums in satisfaction at the lewd sight and rubs his fingers across your swollen lips and shiny chin, spreading the fluids and what’s left of your lipstick over your mouth. You swallow, mouth sore from being used roughly for so long.

“This hole is sufficiently wet, I think,” he appraises, eyelashes fluttering before he casts a long look down your body until it reaches where you’re seated on his clothed erection. “Let’s check this one too.”

The way he smirks at you but makes no move to check himself lets you know that he expects you to do the work.

You let your hands trail down your body slowly, cupping your breasts as you do, enjoying his hooded gaze and the way his cock twitches beneath you a bit too much. When you reach the hem of your dress, you lift your hips up to pull the fabric up to your navel giving an unobstructed view of your lace-covered pussy.

Hoseok stare intensifies but you don’t feel any embarrassment from the scrutiny. “Well you certainly look ripe.”

His fingers toy with the delicate string of lace around your hips. He lets the material snap against your skin a few times before he grows bored or impatient with his own game and gives the lace a harsh yank. It tears easily and the leftover scraps fall into his lap.

“... But just to be sure -” His hands grip your waist and manhandle you onto your hands and knees. Your head spins from how suddenly he’s moved you around to his liking that your arms give out and you fall face first into the clean smelling bed sheets. “Gotta give my favorite hole of yours a better look.”

His hands hoist your hips at a higher angle so that your soaked center is visible for the cameras to pan onto. Hoseok slides in two fingers easily, then a third. Loud, obscene noises echo in the otherwise quiet room, noises that are quickly joined by your unabashed moans of pleasure.

Your core is on fire. Hoseok’s fingers are just as good as you remember them to be. No, better. The three fingers pump into you in measured strokes, the drag slow enough to keep you dangling over the edge without pushing you over.

Hoseok spanks your ass, hissing between his teeth as you clench around his fingers, no doubt imagining your inner walls hugging his cock instead. 

“Christ. You’re always such a soft, wet little thing down here,” he croons in dulcet tones. “I could play with you all day.”

You thrust your hips back, shameless.

“Please! Please Daddy, I’ll be so good, I just - please - I nuh, need it. Need your cock fucking me full. I’ll take it so good, you know I will. Want you to - please! Daddy, I need your cum.”

“Shit.”

He fumbles in his haste to flip you onto your back. He crawls over your body, and you watch fascinated as he dives down to kiss you like a man starved. He looks almost feral, pupils so dilated the brown of his eyes is almost gone.

Heat blooms in your stomach as he kisses you deeply. The press of his lips against yours renders you a little less coherent as time ticks on, every brush of his tongue making you a little more dizzy with want.

Everything about him burns. It feels like being kissed by the sun itself. Every caress, every lick and nip leaves you feverish all over, like your drunk off his touch.

"Let me," he says, pinching the zipper of your dress between his thumb and index finger.

You wrap your hand around his and guide his movements. His gaze never leaves yours and it makes shivers run down your back. Even though you're the one controlling his movements for the time being, the look in his eyes makes it abundantly clear that the control you wield is only temporary.

When your dress finally falls open, you try not to preen too much under the reverent look that falls over Hoseok’s face. Your back arches a little off the bed, pert breasts thrust towards him - an appealing offer he doesn’t dare refuse.

Hoseok circles a thumb around your nipple, rubbing and flicking until it hardens into a stiff peak.

You wonder, distantly, how this looks like from the outside looking in. The man in front of you is a stranger in all senses of the word. Yet the way he touches you - like there are years of built-up affection behind every gesture - makes you second guess everything you know.

"Fuckin' love your tits.” He sighs, awe reflected in the dark of his eyes. "Love playing with them. Love how wet it gets you, how hungry your little pussy gets."

"Please,” you mewl, his words igniting a new wave of heat. It rolls over your body, leaving no extremity untouched. You burn from the inside out with raw desire.

You squeeze your own breasts in a bid to get him to touch you more. Hoseok merely chuckles, finding your desperation entertaining. One of his hands reach down between you to play with the wetness that clings to your core like a second skin and it takes everything inside of you not to rub yourself against him like a bitch in heat.

"What is it, princess?" His lips quirk into a smirk like he already knows the answer. "You're looking quite needy. How did you manage to hold it in all this time?"

“Stop teasing,” you growl, the lack of friction making you irritable. "I need your cock. And why - why do you have so many fucking clothes on?”

He chuckles, chest vibrating in amusement.

“Take them off,” you insist. Then, you grudgingly tack on a “Please” for good measure.

As hot as Hoseok looks like in his “work clothes”, he looks infinitely better naked, you decide as he chucks off his button-down shirt and gets started on his leather belt. With each new piece of clothing that gets discarded, the anticipation building inside of you skyrockets.

You take a moment to soak in his lithe figure, not bothering to hide how affected you are by the view. He’s nicely sculpted; you can tell right away that he takes care of himself. Swimming or dancing maybe? You hesitate between the two. His muscles are lean, nothing like the bulging biceps and thick forearms typical of the stereotypical gym rat.

Hoseok’s dick is, unsurprisingly, as pretty as the rest of him. It’s long and curved, a prominent vein running along its underside. The thatch of pubic hair that rests above his dick is neatly trimmed, the dark hair contrasting with the tan skin of his abdomen and the rosy hue of his erect length. Your eyes swoop down his thighs, licking your lips unwittingly at the alluring sight presented to you.

“Daddy,” you say, the whine in your voice unmistakable. “Want your cock.”

For a brief moment you’re tricked into believing he’s given in to your demand, but find yourself disappointed when he contents himself with rubbing his hardened member between your thighs, the glide slippery thanks to the copious amount of your essence that’s pooled there.

“Like this?” Hoseok asks, tone too sweet to be anything but mocking. The head of his cock bumps into your swollen bundle of nerves one, two, three times. You keen, your hips canting upwards in a bid to get more friction. “Want to rut against me until you get nice and creamy?”

He uses his right hand to spread your slick lower lips so that he can nestle his cock snuggly between them. He rolls his hips, the undulations fluid and dirty, and smirks at how you moan brokenly beneath him.

Your stomach clenches. “Need it in me."

"You'll get it," he promises after kissing you sloppily, lips sucking on your tongue. His breath is ragged but his voice steady, firm. "I'll give you everything you need. Make you cum so many times you know who owns this sweet pussy."

He speaks so surely, carries himself with so much confidence, that in the moment you can't help but believe him. The line between staged and reality blurs and you find yourself nodding eagerly, begging him as best you can to give you what you want.

The first tentative push of his dick wipes you clean of coherency. He slowly eases himself into you, reaching forward to lace his fingers with yours. It’s - more intimate than you expected. He squeezes your hand tightly in his when he finally manages to bury his entire length inside of you.

“Perfect.” He kisses the side of your temple before drawing back, his hard cock dragging deliciously against you. With a fluid hip thrust, he slides back in and you feel the stretch moreso this time around. The curvature of his cock has him pressing up against your walls in a way that robs you of breath.

"Daddy! Hh - ah, oh God. You're too b-big."

"Mhm, that's right. Daddy's fat cock is splitting you open. I'll plug you up with it later so none of my cum will leak out."

Every time he pulls back, your pussy clamps down tightly around him, unwilling to be empty even for a second.

Hoseok’s nostrils flare in arousal. He grabs your left tit and squeezes, using it as a hold to better fuck into you. With his body hovering above yours, his hand staking claim of your breast, and his cock drilling into you, you have nowhere to go. Pinned to the bed and unable to do anything but take everything he delivers, you wrap your legs around his waist and moan.

"Daddy's gonna fuck some babies into you,” he rasps, his eyes dark pools of lust. "Gonna breed your sweet pussy over and over. You'll be so full of my cum that you'll be pregnant with my babies for sure."

“Oh fuck. Yes, yes - oh my nhhg.” You sob as Hoseok drives his cock into you with more force. While the piston of his hips isn’t rushed, he pulls out to the tip only to slam back in to the hilt every time. The stretch burns in a good way and the sound of your moans are rivaled only by the wet, obscene sounds from your coupling.

"Fuck. Your cunt just - shit." He cracks down a hand against your ass and you shriek, not expecting it. "You're so tight, holy shit."

"Want it. Want you to fuck me good."

"I will," he says lowly, the promise reverberating deep in his chest. "I'll fuck you until you're begging me to stop. Fill you up so much, you'll be bloated with it."

And it should freak you out, the imagery he paints with his words, but the thought of laying there and him fucking you so well that you won't be able to feel your legs has you gushing out more wetness.

"Mmmh.” Maybe he can feel how soaked you are because he comments, “This is my favorite hole of yours, princess. Always so fuckin' drenched. I bet we’ll have to throw out the sheets again." He chuckles. "You must be hungry for it, right? I made you wait so long. No wonder your pussy is clenching like that. It needs a big, fat cock to milk dry."

“I missed it,” you cry, body skidding a little higher up the duvet each time he fucks into you. Your eyelashes flutter, lids heavy. It’s hard to concentrate, let alone form words, when your brain feels like complete mush. “I - I need your cum. Daddy, please.”

"Don't worry, gorgeous. I've got you. Daddy will feed your cute pussy his cock."

"Th-thank you, Daddy."

"Love you," he murmurs. It’s a quiet confession, lost somewhere in between the mattress creaks, the loud slaps of Hoseok’s hips slamming against yours, and the string of whimpers and groans pulled from your throat. It’s quiet but you hear it.

One of your hands reach up to pull him down by the neck so that your lips meet. He kisses you open-mouthed. It’s a filthy kiss, one that makes you moan into his mouth. You’re certain that if you had been standing your knees would have wobbled.

When you let up for air, Hoseok’s staring you down, his red-bitten lips plump and shiny.

"Love this pussy. So sweet and wet for me. Always for fucking swollen, like it's waiting to get a pounding. Love that. Love how eager you are to be bred by my thick cock."

The impregnation kink is - a bit much. You've never really imagined having kids, at least not anytime soon. You can’t even keep your plants alive for fuck’s sake.

But the way he suggests it is nothing like what you had imagined. His suggestions are - vulgar and primal. Like the urge to fuck you full of his cum is biological and he can’t smother it.

For a moment, you let yourself entertain the thought of being his breeding bitch - of laying on your back and letting him fuck load after load of cum inside you until your pussy physically can't accommodate any more. Of not having any other worries or thoughts but take his cock every moment of the day.

"You just got tighter.” He curses under his breath, voice thick with arousal.  "Such a warm little hole. Taking everything I give it. You'd take anything if it meant getting bred by me, right?"

“Yes, yes,” you chant, pleasure coiling inside of you. “Give me more! I need it."

"Shit. You can't handle more, princess," he tries to reason. "Daddy needs to be gentle with you. Your hole is so small, it'll hurt if I go harder."

"Daddy promised to fuck me.” You whine, uncaring if you sound too bratty and demanding. "B- Breed my hole. It's yours. Puh-please use me."

"God." Hoseok groans, his features twisting in what looks to be pain or pleasure. With tremendous effort he pulls himself out of you and your eyes widen in panic.

“What? Daddy why? I thought—”

He shushes you, reaching somewhere overhead to grab a fluffy pillow. "Just wait a sec, okay? There you go.”

The pillow is placed underneath your hips, keeping them elevated. When Hoseok takes his glistening cock in hand and directs it back in, you both moan in unison.

"Oh fuck, I’m gonna, ah,” you gasp as your mind goes blank with pleasure. The new angle is heaven on earth. It’s almost too much, too quick, but Hoseok’s firm grip on your hips prevents you from alleviating the pressure.

"Take it." He grunts, brows knit together. Every powerful snap of his hips makes your breasts bounce, your breath hitch. Without his hands keeping you pinned down, your head would have collided with the headboard by now. "Be a good princess and take your fucking."

He gains momentum, the new angle facilitating the slide of his cock. He drags the flat of his palm down your thigh and takes a hold of your knee before hoisting it up over your shoulder. The stretch burns the back of your calves but you’re so fucked out, you can’t even find the words to complain.

When you glance up, it’s to fall upon the sight of Hoseok brushing his sweaty fringe out of his face. His cheeks are flushed pink, his skin dewy from the film of perspiration wrapped around his body. Beads of sweat trickle down his heaving chest but he chooses to forgo a quick break. On the contrary, he pushes in deeper like he’s determined to carve out a permanent space for his cock.

"Just gonna keep you here,” he huffs, his eyes the shade of cloudless night sky. “Everyday I'll fuck my cum back inside of you so that you'll always stay full. Want to fuck you forever. Don't want this to end."

"Want it too," you sob, orgasm hovering just on the periphery. "Want you to keep me full forever. Ugh - oh fuck! Hoseok- I'm—"

"You gonna cum around my cock, princess?" He angles his hips downwards, relishing in the wanton cry it elicits. "Gonna give me everything?"

"I'm yours," you profess, jaw slack with pleasure.

It doesn’t take much more for the orgasm to crash over you, Hoseok fucks you through it, groaning as your inner walls spasm around him. He breathes out curses, lip drawn tight between his lips, and doesn’t wait for the last waves of your orgasm to abate to chase after his own end.

In the throes of your pleasure, it doesn’t register then that Hoseok has been holding back all this time. If you thought he had been fucking you hard before, it’s nothing compared to now. He growls and bends forward, forcing your leg to stretch even more, and pushes in and out of you at a pace that makes you scream.

You don’t even have time to come down from your first high that you’re already thrown towards your second. Hoseok plugs your mouth up using two digits, his fingers a firm pressure against your tongue. Your eyes roll back, too overwhelmed from the feeling of being stuffed on both ends.

“God, I could fuck your holes all fucking day.” His rhythm begins to falter as the pressure inside of him grows, his movements frantic and less controlled than they’ve ever been. “How about that? I’ll fuck my princess’ mouth properly next time, stretch it out nicely. Then you’ll let me have your ass, hm?”

Shit, shit, you whimper around his fingers, spit bubbling down the sides on your mouth. It’s scary knowing you have no way to stop the oncoming destruction.

“Yeah, I can tell you love that. You’re gonna cream my dick again, aren’t you?” You can’t tell if the sound he makes is a laugh or a grunt. All you know is that you feel like you’re about to burst. “C’mon, be a good girl and milk my cum out. You better get every last drop.”

There’s an underlying threat in his command. You do your best to obey his words, not wanting to disappoint.

Hoseok pushes his cock in as deep as it can go and grinds his hips into yours. His cock reaches so deep that you swear he might hit your cervix. And considering the nature of the scene you’re portraying, maybe that’s what he intends.

He swipes his fingers through the mess of your cunt, zeroing in on your sensitive clit. He swirls some of your fluids over it before giving it a sharp pinch that makes you cry out. Your hips fly off the pillow but Hoseok is quick to pin you back down. The never-ending drag of his cock along your walls paired with the rough ministrations to your clit is all you need for the pressure inside you to snap.

Above you, Hoseok moans, low and throaty, as he finally dumps rope after rope of warm cum inside of you. He throws his head back, exposing the collar of purplish bruises you sucked onto his skin earlier. Something about the view satisfies you immensely - not that you’d dare voice these thoughts out loud.

Hoseok’s strength gives out and he sags onto your body, his breath warm against your skin. He feels hot, like a furnace, but strangely it’s not uncomfortable. It’s almost like having a personal heating pad; the soreness of your muscles melts away with each passing moment.

Much to your displeasure, your post-coital bliss doesn’t last forever. He's given the signal to pull out and obeys, careful to keep your hips propped up so that his load of cum won’t slosh out. He’s still got a role to play, after all, and the end goal is to get you pregnant.

A cameraman walks forward to zoom in on your swollen and used pussy - physical proof of your exploits. The haze lifts. You become more aware of the people standing on the outskirts of your vision, lighting or sound equipment in hand.

“And that’s a wrap!” Director Ryu calls, his cheeks stretched to accommodate the width of his grin. “Good job everybody!”

You breathe out a sigh, glad your day is finally over. Seokjin walks up to you with a robe for you to throw on and you nod in thanks, slipping the satin gown over your sweaty body.

Around you, the staff start milling about, putting the equipment away and gathering their belongings. You pay them no heed, your attention focused on getting changing into showering and changing into comfortable clothes. You’re in the middle of taming your messy hair when your stomach erupts into growls, reminding you of your hungry state. What you’d do for a big slice of piz—

You remember your date with Jimin and speed up, not wanting to make him wait around for you any longer. It’s not hard to spot him - he’s waiting outside of your dressing room, can of coke in hand.

Something about his smile feels off.

Maybe it’s the way his eye corners don’t crease or the slight strain the curve of his mouth that betray him.

Your expression falls. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing - it’s nothing, don’t worry,” he says after a short, tense moment of silence. The look on your face must have reflected your feelings of doubt because he proceeds by reaching out and pulling you tight against him. Pressed up against his shirt, you can smell the faintest trace of the fabric softener he uses and its scent, familiar and sweet, mollifies you somewhat. “You did amazing today, baby. As usual.”

The compliment you’ve been waiting for makes the sides of your lips rise automatically. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Almost too well.” He hums, one of his hands stroking the back of your head.

“Well, I can’t take all the credit, “ you admit. “The results wouldn’t have been half as good if Hoseok hadn’t been my partner. He’s new in the game but he doesn’t act like it, does he?”

“He doesn’t, no.” Jimin agrees. “He’s... he’s something, alright.”

Your grin widens. All your worrying had been for nothing, in the end. The shoot had gone without a hitch, all of the set members coming up to you with praises of a job well done. You can’t recall the last time any of your performances had elicited such a response post-filming. Even Director Ryu looks particularly pleased, a permanent grin etched onto his features as he reviews the tapes. The knowledge that you’ve done well fills you with a pleasant giddiness that warms your insides and makes your cheeks hurt from how wide your smile stretches.

“Oh good, you’re still here.” Hoseok beams. A damp towel hangs around his neck and the ends of his hair are wet like he’s just gone and doused his head under the bathroom faucet. “I was worried you had left. I just - thanks for earlier. I had a lot of fun! If the chance presents itself, I hope we can work together again.”

“Thank you.” You want to praise him too, know that his performance deserves it, but your next words are cut off before they have the chance to form. Jimin steps closer to you, his grip on your hip tightening suddenly.

When you glance up to check on your boyfriend, he’s sporting a serious expression that you’ve rarely seen before. He doesn’t look angry, but it’s clear as day that he isn’t too pleased with the present situation. His face is closed off, cold, unwelcoming - so drastically different from the usual cherubic sweetness you’re accustomed to seeing.

You’re at a loss for words, unsure of who to address first. What’s going on?

Hoseok senses the sudden change in atmosphere and chooses to tactfully retreat.

“Good work, man.” He nods at Jimin and then shoots you a wave. “See you around sometime, ______ !”

Your eyes follow his exit before you turn to face Jimin again, hoping the smile on your face masks the worry you feel bubbling on the inside.

“Jimin what - I mean, are you sure you're okay?”

Jimin returns a strained smile of his own. “I’m fine.”

Your gaze lands on his right hand that’s still squeezing your waist. It borders on uncomfortable but you try not to let it show. You must not do a very good job at schooling your features because Jimin quickly apologizes for his behavior.

“Sorry.” Jimin lets you go once he notices your discomfort. “I just - I don’t know. You’re right, I’m not acting like myself. I think...seeing you say that stuff and act that way just - I’m not sure why, I guess - Since usually the sex isn’t like that, it caught me off guard.”

“You didn’t like that I acted like I was in love with him.”

“Would anyone?” he shoots back, smile sardonic. “It just looked so convincing in the moment. I guess it got me worked up.”

Sure, Hoseok is hot. If you had to work with him again, you would in a heartbeat. It’s not often you land a colleague you’re so sexually compatible with, who also happens to be so well-mannered and good-looking. It’s like hitting the jackpot, really.

But - just because you’d fuck him again for professional reasons, doesn’t mean that you’re interested in him beyond that.

“Jimin. I don’t want to be with anybody else but you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” The muscles in his face relax. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

.

.

It’s not until later, as he fucks you uncharacteristically hard in the backseat of his car parked in the back lot of the film studio, that you begin to wonder if things really are as idyllic as you believe them to be.

.

.

.

[kbstories]

impression//expression

"It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone."

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, Protective Kiri, Soft Baku, Chatting

Chapter 1. No additional content warnings apply. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.

***

The routine goes as follows:

Bakugou waits for Kirishima at the front door, arms crossed and a varying degree of pissed off depending how late he's running. Kirishima complains about the train being postponed or too full or delayed in some way – which is true, damn it, it’s like the universe has doomed his train line and none other in all of Japan to be the statistical outlier in an otherwise spotless record of punctuality – and begs for forgiveness, usually by bribing Bakugou with some post-workout coffee.

It works surprisingly well. A month into this and Kirishima is about ready to join one of those conspiracy theory servers Kaminari is so fond of because Bakugou is actually pretty lenient, death threats and crackling palms aside.

(That being said, Kirishima enjoys life and living and chasing after his dreams, so he will never breathe a word about that particular observation to anyone, least of all Bakugou himself.)

They usually got the gym to themselves, the employees on the early shift always looking vaguely relieved that at least someone is making use of their opening hours. Kirishima’s never been a regular anywhere aside from perhaps the manga store a few blocks from his home, so it feels a bit special to have this implicit claim to the training area made for heat-based quirks every Saturday morning.

Bakugou snorted when Kirishima told him that, muttering what sounded like fucking nerd under his breath.

The rest is pretty straight-forward. Kirishima’s been on a daily workout schedule for a good year by this point, and it’s clear Bakugou is used to it too. They stretch, do some warm-ups (in Bakugou’s case, quite literally) and off they go.

The thing is: It’s fun. Like, really, really fun. Really loud, too, especially when Bakugou’s got his sweat on and comes at him point-blank and flashy like fireworks personified. By the first session, Kirishima already realized it’s a lost cause trying to talk during training because all Bakugou replies with is an exasperated “Hah?!” no matter what he says.

It’s not like Kirishima could’ve heard himself speak anyways, his ears always left ringing something fierce from all the close-quarter explosions. Bakugou is a stranger to the concept of holding back or taking things by half measures, that much hasn’t changed.

Elsewhere, it might’ve taken a while for Kirishima to push his quirk to the point where his skin breaks out in cracks and ridges, his arms and shoulders and hair turning unyielding and clear-cut like miniature mountains. Not here, though: Not when the choices are to put his best foot forward with every move, or have Bakugou tear his throat out for daring to waste his time. There’s something so freeing about letting loose like that – a thrill that sends Kirishima’s heart on a war path and his pulse soaring until all that’s left are his instincts and quick reflexes.

Like this, every time he gets a hit in or a blast manages to leave a mark on his body, Bakugou grins and Kirishima grins back. Like this, the bruises and lost hours of sleep pale in comparison to just how bright Bakugou’s eyes can shine.

*

Kirishima brushes off the last traces of carbon dust off his arms to start massaging the sore muscles there. With U.A.’s Sports Festival a mere handful of days away, both of them kept going until their quirks started to sputter.

A strange comfort, to sit in mutual exhaustion like this. It’s not even noon but Kirishima could totally go for a nap, right there on the black, fire-proof tiles. Leaning back on his hands, he hums and asks:

“So. What’s the deal with Midoriya?”

A few feet from him, Bakugou pauses in rolling his shoulders. The black tank top he’s wearing is positively plastered to his body with sweat, his track pants saved from the same fate by how bulky they are.

“What?”

Too late, it occurs to Kirishima to feel nervous. The sensation is dim against the warmth still clinging to his skin though, that minute ache that comes with becoming stone for too long. “Being around him pisses you off. What’s up with that?”

Bakugou stares at him. His expression is hard to read, firmly within the realm of his default frown. “The fuck, Shitty Hair. What’s it to you?”

Uh oh. Kirishima sits up, mostly to raise his hands in a placating gesture, palm-up. “Just curious, bro. Honest. Been wondering for a while so I thought I’d ask, y’know?”

As bold as Kirishima aims to be, lying Bakugou in the face when his gaze is sharp enough to cut a bitch would be a monumentally stupid move. Bakugou seems to come to the same conclusion, even if his scoff is plenty aggressive.

“None of your fucking business, that’s what’s up with it. Fucking… Deku, bah.”

To say the silence that follows is loaded is the understatement of the century. Kirishima chews on his tongue, about a thousand questions balancing on its tip; it’s like the Midoriya he sees is the polar opposite of the one Bakugou blows a fuse over on a regular basis, and the why behind it is kind of starting to haunt him. (It doesn’t help that everyone in 1-A treats him as some sort of expert in all things Bakugou instead of interacting with the guy directly.)

One glance at Bakugou and he swallows it all down. Only now, with any and all traces of it gone, does Kirishima realize how calm he had looked. “…Coffee?”

Bakugou picks himself off the ground and leaves without another word.

*

Baku 💣💥

it’s bullshit dude (sent 18:23)

u know that right? (sent 18:23)

right? (sent 18:48)

like the whole chains + muzzle thing was ass i’m still fuming (sent 19:10)

and the press can go duck themselves lol (sent 19:12)

fuck** (sent 19:12)

it’s ur right to refuse the thing if u don’t want it (sent 19:15)

idk man it just sucks (sent 19:20)

baku? (sent 19:35)

:( (sent 19:55)

-

i know (received 19:56)

stop blowing up my phone (received 19:57)

-

baku!! ❤️  (sent 19:57)

sry haha (sent 19:57)

u ok tho? (sent 20:00)

-

fuck off (received 20:01)

-

sry sry (sent 20:01)

(my moms say hi btw 💪🏻💪🏻) (sent 20:32)

((and congrats but i told em u don’t wanna hear it lmao)) (sent 20:33)

-

hi back (received 20:40)

 -

💪🏻  (sent 20:42)

*

Lord Explosion Murder?? (Baku 💣💥 )

so like (sent 6:20)

ur hero name (sent 6:20)

-

? (received 6:21)

-

oh! morning lol (sent 6:22)

ok so. it’s a bit of a mouthful (sent 6:24)

manly! (sent 6:24)

but y’know (sent 6:24)

-

k (received 6:25)

-

what about nitro? or smth (sent 6:30)

it’s snappy and cool! like u hehe (sent 6:33)

WAIT NO (sent 6:33)

LIKE (sent 6:33)

UM (sent 6:34)

 -

kirishima (received 6:34)

-

yea? (sent 6:34)

OH SHIT DID U JUST (sent 6:36)

pls don’t kill me (sent 6:36)

bro? (sent 6:40)

bakubro? (sent 6:48)

nitro? 👀  (sent 6:53)

… (sent 6:57)

at least lemme say bye to my dog man (sent 7:00)

-

no (received 7:00)

-

RIP in pieces me (sent 7:00)

*

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥 )

oi dipshit (received 8:02)

-

?? 👀  (sent 8:02)

-

you owe me coffee (received 8:03)

-

!!! (sent 8:03)

[train_view.jpg] (sent 8:18)

omw 💪🏻  (sent 8:19)

-

k (received 8:19)

>>Chapter 3

[justchronicallyillthings]

hi! i saw you use a foam roller for your scoliosis. i have scoliosis too and i was wondering if you wouldn't mind telling me where you got yours and maybe some general do's and dont's? im really curious and would be interested in additional relief outside the usual back exercise stuff that's "prescribed" to us. thank you for reading. <3

Sorry for the delay in answering schools been a bitch lately. But anyways, I got a foam roller from walmart and I'm sure foam rollers only have one firmness level but in case I'm wrong: try and get one with firmness that feels right for you. Mine is very firm and I love it.

As for using the rollar I set it on the ground where there is space to roll. I make sure my hair is tied up and my shirt is not hanging down because they will get caught in the rollar which sucks. I clasp my hands together because I was taught to move them when I roll. I normally start at the top of my back with my arms above my head but the arms can move in whatever manner gets the best result. I then roll so that the rollar moves to my lower back while bringing my hands overhead and to rest on my stomach. Then I repeat until I feel better.

Sometimes my back will sound like pop rocks while using it and other times there might be a big kink in my spine and it cracks. When it sounds like pop rocks then I know its relieving mild pressure by stretching out my spine (or at least that's what I like to imagine happening.) If my back makes a loud crack noise then I know its been a while since that section of my spine has had pressure relief and it feels amazing once I get over the initial pain/shock. But most of the time it just helps relieve sore muscles and remove tension from my upper back.

I also use it on my right hip for my joint dysfunction by laying on my right side and rolling my hip on it. But overall the foam rollar is truly amazing to help relieve stiff muscles without having to do chiropractic or deep muscle massages.

[yamithediaperdork]

Shopping with daddy OR Don’t be a brat!!! (My hero academia)

When your going to school, is there any better time of the year then summer vacation? Hell no, even if your school is far more awesome then most since your in training to be a superhero. And getting to spend your vacation with the love of your life, in a beach side cottage not far from a little town? Even better! However there could also be one tiny little problem with getting to share a bed with the love of your life for three months, If the prideful blond hair hot head failed to mention that he's a life long bed wetter. This was the sad fact facing Shoto as he woke up for the fifth morning in a row soaked by his boyfriends urine. The more powerful (in terms of raw power as well as muscles) teen scowled at Katsuki as the blond was still blissfully unaware of what he had done, snoring softly and sucking on his thumb. Grabbing his pillow Shoto was tempted, sorely tempted to whack the blond in the face with it, but instead held his breath and counted back from 10 before replacing it. "Wake up doofus. you soaked the bed. again." Shoto said, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. Katsuki snorted and slowly opened his eyes. "hmm what? Nggh.." and turned over, tugging his pillow over his head. "Five more minutes mommy." he said in a sleepy voice. Shoto smirked at that, but reached over and grabbed the pillow. "I'm not your mommy, and you need to get up. We're taking care of this today bed wetter." he said, though he couldn't keep the amusement out of his voice. Katsuki grumble and then opened his eyes, sitting up in bed and yawning, then froze. "I..I Uh.." he stammered, quickly realizing that he was in the pee soaked bed. "You wet the bed. I know. come up, Outta bed, I need to get the mattress out to dry. Again." Shoto said. "M-Maybe it wasn't me! you ever think maybe YOUR the one pissing the bed like a fucking toddler?" Katsuki huffed, blushing but scooting out of the bed all the same. "Really? I'm not even gonna dignify that with a answer. go get in the shower." Shoto said, rolling his eyes. "..Yeah ok." Katsuki said and scurried off. Shoto sighed and got out of bed, the poor mattress had been new but already was doomed to be pee stained for the rest of it's life. Stripping the blankets and sheets off of the soaked bed, he walked to the washing machine by the bathroom, glad to hear Katsuki was showering and stuffed the soiled bedding as well as his own soaked shorts in the machine, then noticed that Katsuki had 'thoughtfully' left his pissy PJ bottoms out for him. '..At least he's not trying to hide them till they stink the place up.' Shoto thought and added them to the wash and started up the load, before moving in to join his boyfriend in the shower.

After a nice hot shower, with some nice hot love making, Both boys were dressed and clean, and sitting down to enjoy a breakfast. Shoto was having toast and egg, while Katsuki was finishing off his box of Cap'n Crunch. "we're gonna need to go into town today." Katsuki said between mouthful's, milk dribbling down his chin but at least he was leaning over the bowl so his light green muscle shirt was getting milk stained. Shoto meanwhile was in a loose white t-shirt and both boys were rocking tan shorts and black sandals. "I was going into town anyways. and you're coming with me." Shoto said, carefully finishing ff the last of his food. "oh, what we getting? we're good for food otherwise..heh." Katsuki got a impish look on his face. "Unless you wanted ta check out that sex shop i pointed out last time you horn do-" "Oh for the love of..No. we're getting you bed time diapers." Shoto cut Katsuki off. the blond choked on his last spoon full of cereal and when he could speak glared at Shoto. "No.Fucking.Way!" he growled. "This isn't up for debate. You can either come with me willing, and have a say on what brand of diapers I get you, or you can go over my lap and get a spanking and be put on time out till I get back." Shoto said, and finished the last of his coffee, silently daring Katsuki to try and call his bluff. The fact of the matter was, Shoto had learned quickly that the only way to calm the brat down when he got going, was a good old fashion trip over a knee. (well actually, it had been Katsuki's mother who had let him in on it) "..Your a butt you know that? a total, farty BUTT!" was all the blond said. "mmmhmm. Do the dishes up while I put the mattress out on the railing to dry." Shoto said and got up and started to leave the room. "and flip me off again and I'ma wash your mouth out. " he added, not even turning around. "...How does he fucking do that?" Katsuki muttered, quickly lowering his hand, and getting the dishes gathered up from the table.

with each boys chore down, they headed into town, walking since it was just a five minute walk. or at least it normally was. Katsuki had decided to stage a silent protest of sorts by going as slow as he could, and it took them a full fifteen minutes to get to the all-mart. "Keep pressing your luck and I'll get a stroller for the walk back." Shoto warned the brat. "You don't have the BALLS to tr-" Katsuki started, and quickly faltered, looking down at the ground. "Y-Yeah ok." Shoto wished that he hadn't of made the threat as Katsuki was even more sulky now. Hoping maybe the bed wetter's attuide would improve with a little bit of a delay in getting his bed wetting pants, Shoto steered the cart to the grocery side of the store first. "...I wanna get more then just Cap'n Crunch." Katsuki spoke up as they came up to the cereal aisle. "Oh? "I want candy. LOTS of it." Shoto smirked, it was more or less sounding like the bed wetter had offered up a price of sorts if he was gonna have to get the bed wetting pants. "I think we can swing that. though you're not eating it all at once. last thing I want is you bouncing off the walls." "Oh come on! I'm not THAT bad!" "Remember what happened on Easter? the foot prints on your mother's ceiling?" Shoto asked. "W-well that was uh..you know..I got a big bag of those cream eggs..and..i didn't want them to melt..and Mom didn't have any room in the fridge!" Katsuki huffed, blushing. "That's not how I remember it..but fine. we'll go with your version of events. just not a lot at once, OK?" Shoto offered, smirking. "Yeah fine. Whatever!" Katsuki sulked. "Get the Cap'n crunch, I'll get the candy."   and with that he took off and Shoto just knew the brat would be coming back with a armful of sweets. "he's lucky he's amazing in the sack." he muttered, and wheeled toward the Cap'n Crunch.

Coming around the corner after getting the brat his cereal, and picking up a ag of coffee for himself, Shoto just smirked seeing Katsuki coming back towards him, arm's fulled with big bags of mini chocolate bars, cream eggs and the like. 'And in accordance with the prophecy..' he thought but kept his mouth shut. "Did you leave anything on the shelf for others?" Shoto teased. "heh, yeah, but not for lack of trying." Katsuki said then noticed the coffee in the cart. "Ick, why do you drink that stuff when we have chocolate syrup and milk at home?" "because a certain sweet tooth glares at me when i go to use any." Shoto teased. "heh. well you got me there. Alright, let's go and pay for this and get back home." Katsuki said quickly, starting to head for the check outs and reaching back to tug on the cart. "Nice try. we still have something else to pickup." Shoto said. "Come on, give me ONE more chance!" Katsuki whined. "If I thought that would really make a difference I would. now come on." Shoto said and started to head towards the pharmacy end of the store. "..This is bullshit! get them if you want, but I'll be waiting outside!" Katsuki growled and started to stomp his way out of the store, drawing attention from other customers. Katsuki Bakugo, you get your butt back here right this instant or I'm putting all of your candy back!" Shoto threatened. "I'm NOT going and getting stupid diapers with you! Diapers are for babies and I DON'T FUCKING NEED THEM!" Katsuki yelled, apparently unaware of all the people looking at them as he stomped a foot but was turning and facing Shoto. At least he was unaware till a teenaged girl started to snicker. "YOU GOT SOMETHING TO SAY BITCH?!" Katsuki growled, spinning around to face her, and Shoto moved quick. Grabbing Katsuki by the ear he gave the boy a firm swat across the butt. "little man, that is eno-" He started, talking over the yowl from Katsuki, but even then he was cut off as a loud thunder poot escaped from the blonds backside. "..Katsuki when was the last time you-" Shoto started to asked. Katsuki's bowels were a fickle thing, and the boy could go for days without a movement, but when it was ready to come out, he had little to NO warning time. "i..I.." Katsuki whined, and then with a crackling poot the back of his shorts started to darken and blossom out. "N-Nooooo!" Katsuki whimpered and whined, but was helpless to do anything as days worth of heavy food destroyed his briefs and weren't doing the shorts any favor either. the crowd was watching with mixed reactions, though most was amusement, at least until the smell hit them. and a few were just shocked at the mass growing in the back of the boys pants. Shoto should of felt bad for him, but given he'd been acting like a total brat and he was positive had been about to use his quirk on that girl, he was all out of mercy. "great, Just great. it's not enough that your wetting the bed every night, now your pooping your pants too?" Shoto asked, hands on his hips. "I..But..I.." Katsuki whined. "that's it mister man, we're going and getting diapers alright, and NOT just for night time! and I'm putting that candy back, clearly junk food is the last thing you need." Picking Katsuki up and carrying the mortified blond over to the cart, Shoto was sure that the blond knew what coming from the little bit of a fight he was able to put up. It didn't do him any good though as Shoto sat him down with a loud squish in the baby seat of the cart. "MAYBE if you watch your mouth and behave, I MIGHT let you keep the cream eggs. but your on thin ice mister." Shoto said and shook a finger at Katsuki who whimper and started to bawl, even as the crowd started to clap and cheer in approval. "one last thing, Say sorry to everyone." Shoto said, and stepped aside,. Katsuki sobbed and hiccuped, and though teary eyes looked at the crowd. "I.I'm sowwy." he lisped babyishly. The crowd loved it.

After that Shoto wheeled the cart to the pharmacy area and picked up not one, not two, but three of the extra thick overnight diapers that the store carried, as well as getting some baby bottles and a package of pacifiers. Katsuki started to wail loudly at that point so Shoto, after getting permission from a employee, opened the pack of paci and popped one in the smelly teens mouth. part of the crowd had followed them, since well they didn't really get much excitement and this beat the re runs that were playing on TV at the moment anyways. As Katsuki suckled on it and whined, a chuckle spread though the crowd. Shoto also got permission to open one of the packs of diapers and was allowed to use the usually employee's only bathroom to get the little stinker changed. the crowd helped up somewhat, offering to take back the candy as Katsuki got changed and Shoto just reminded them to leave a bag of the cream eggs for Katsuki, he had been behaved so far since going poopie. Getting Katsuki in the bathroom, Shoto shook his head. "I hope you understand you brought this ALL on yourself. if you hadn't of dragged your feet, or had all your little fits we'd of been home by now." he said, tugging the stinkers shorts off and tossing them in a trash bin. Katsuki wisely kept his paci in, and nodded, but reached for his short futilely as they went though the air into the trash can. "no no, those shorts are ruined buddy. and I'm NOT buying you a new pair. you'll be waddling home in diapers." Shoto said, smirking and Katsuki laid on his back on the cold floor, fists going to his eyes and rubbing them as he suckled and whimpered big time. Katsuki's lucky Ultra-man briefs were all but ruined and Katsuki paused in his crying to look down, then up at Shoto and shake his head no. "Buddy, their ruined.I have to toss them." Shoto said. Katsuki shook his head no again and brought his hands together, pleading. "-sigh- alright..alright..you can keep them.. but I'm not carrying them." Shoto said, and then smirked as he took out a diaper. "Butt up." Katsuki got a confused look on his face and pointed at his poopie undies. "Yeah I know. they're still poopie. you wanna keep'em, you can wear them under your diaper, and YOU can wash them in the sink wen we get home." Shoto said. Katsuki wrinkled his nose and shook his head no, going to hook his thumb in the waistband. "No no no, You made your case, and won. enjoy the fruit of success." Shoto said and gently but firmly moved the brat's hands away. "Now butt up." Katsuki started whimpering again even as he lifted his butt up and plopped back down with a squish on the soft diaper, and whined as Shoto started to sprinkle him with baby powder , then just took the top off of the container and dumped half of it in. "Don't wanna get attacked by a hoard of fly's on the way home." Shoto explained. Taping the diaper up, Shoto helped Katsuki get to his feet and laughed at how cute and ridiculous the now big baby look, his legs bowed out and he was clearly having trouble walking, doing a weird baby learning to walk waddle. As they started to head for the door, Shoto noticed that there was a black marker on a clip board on the door, for checking off a list of things to be cleaned and smirked. "Hold it a second stinker." he said, grabbing the marker and then getting behind Katsuki, kneeling down and writing. 'Warning! Poopie diaper! (sorry about the smell)' Putting the cap back on the marker and replacing it, Shoto lead the big baby out.

Their groceries, the ones they were keeping, had been taken up to a checkout as for obvious reasons the cart had to be cleaned, and the crowd chuckled and laughed, with some people even snapping pictures as Katsuki was lead, Holding daddies hand, to the check out. everything was scanned in fact save for the bag of cream eggs and the clerk gave Shoto a question look, smirking at the same time as Katsuki wiped his arm over his eyes and looked at Shoto hopefully. "oh..I suppose. I'm just a big softie." Shoto said and leaned down, kissing the big babies head. Paying for the groceries and heading out the door with Shoto carrying the heavier stuff and Katsuki the light stuff, and the big babies hand in daddies, Shoto realized that his summer vacation was going to be even better then he could of dreamed, if not a little more smelly.

The end

[omgviolette12]

After Hours - Chapter 13

Previous Chapter

Summary: After sex, comes the bliss... right?

Chapters: 13/?

Words: 2800+

Warnings: None

Tags:  @milkymaidme @dangertoozmanykids101@alexakeyloveloki @little-moonbeam-666  @marvel-ous-fics@clovermariear@lynnesm@bitchyikes@moon-child-of-a-poet, @allthecraftandthings@bubblegumspitt @shockwavee @blondekel77 @nerd–nirvana @valdemarismynonbinarylove@nightrose64 @pastelhexmaniac @iistormii

If you’d like to be added, let me know. I’ve also posted this on AO3

A/N:  Sorry for the delay, still in the midst of final projects. Motivation to complete work/writing has been a bit slow, and I’ve been trying to think up new plot points. I’ve been stuck, lol. Anyway, enjoy!

----------------------------

Evelyn should’ve expected this, but she had no idea that she would be this sore.

 After the shower, they both became somewhat insatiable. It was as though Loki couldn’t get enough of her, and she of him. The taboo of their relationship spurred on their lust, the need to be connected to each other in every way possible great. So like he had promised, he fucked her into the late hours of the night.

  While she was grateful that her first time was far from terrible...she made a mental note to learn her limits. She thought the idea of getting fucked silly by the man she pined for would be a dream come true - but the effects on her body afterwards was kind of a bitch.

 Evelyn hopped and limped all the way to Loki’s car when they left his house early in the morning, wincing with every step. She attributed the amount of pain she was in due to the fact that she was simply not used to sex, and her professor’s size was considerable. 

 Perhaps the more they did it, the less pain there would be overtime?

Just the thought of a ‘next time’ in Loki’s bed was enough to set off another wave of butterflies inside her stomach. Whatever pain she was in right now, it was worth it.

 Loki, however, had long noticed Evelyn’s plight - in fact, he even had the gall to tease her about it, offering to carry her up the steps to her door like a princess once they reached her apartment.

 He sounded pretty serious about it too, so Evelyn couldn't help but blush even though she knew he was just messing around. It was going to be a challenge getting used to his playful side…

 Evelyn promised him that she'd stop by his office later on in the day, to resume her duties as his TA. Since she wouldn’t be able to attend the Monday lecture to help out this time around for obvious reasons, the least she could do was grade some exams. 

 She dreaded grading, especially since it was math( another reason why she skipped meetings in the beginning…) but now that the dynamic between her and Loki has changed considerably, she was actually looking forward to being productive in his presence.

  They parted with a kiss, and Evelyn made her way to her apartment door slowly. Now, she just had to try to walk inside like there wasn't a stick up her ass.

To Evelyn’s surprise and dismay, Candice was waiting for her on the couch, a cup of hot cocoa in hand as she watched her hop through the front door.

 Evelyn was secretly banking on the fact that she had left for work already, since Candice mentioned offhandedly that she took up more shifts at her hospital.

  But alas, the shit-eating grin that was plastered on Candice’s face meant that she must’ve called in sick to witness Evelyn’s limp of shame, first thing.

 “Well! I’ll be damned,”

 Evelyn stubbornly ignored her in embarrassment as she limped past the couch to head to her room, but Candice set down her mug to follow her, giggling like a fool, “He busted that cherry so hard he got you hoppin’ like a bunny! Sheesh...”

 "Not now, Candice…" Her face felt hot, desperately wishing her sister had some sort of filter.

 "Did y'all use a rubber? Did he hurt you? Because if he hurt you Eve -"

 Candice was going to badger her until all was answered, so Evelyn relented with a grimace, hoping she would leave her alone after she was satisfied,

 “ No! He didn’t hurt me...and yes, we used protection. Each time.”

 “Each ti- each time?! How many times did y’all fu- ”

 Evelyn cut her off before she could finish, “I’ll answer all the juicy deets later, okay!? I didn’t have time to shower before we left, and I wanna do that now. Please?”

 Candice realized she was being a bit overbearing, backing off a bit. Evelyn was extremely fun to tease and make fun off, but she knew her sister had limits,

  “Sorry, sorry. My baby sister never seemed the type to be interested in sex or anything before...so to do it with a professor of all people for your first time! And a kinky one! Don’t blame me for being interested and concerned...”

 Evelyn ignored the kinky comment, limping inside her room as she replied, “I mean, is the professor thing really that big a deal? I’m technically just a former student of his...”

 “Not really, you already know how my hoe phase was. Fucked a few teachers in my college days. But you have to be careful with these older men Eve, since you’re new to this sort of thing. Don't get attached. Especially if his dick game’s good, he will manipulate the hell outta you,”

 "...Speaking from experience?"

 "Yep. Found out this guy was a whole married man and I still went back to fuck. Good dick messes with your morals sis,"

 Evelyn had a hard time taking her words seriously since Candice lacked morals in the first place, but pretended to agree so she could leave her be,

"I'll make sure to be careful, okay? Can I shower now?"

 "Yeah yeah, we'll talk more later. Remember what I said, hmm?"

And with that, Candice left her room with a skip to her step.

 Evelyn didn’t bother processing her sister’s warning, going straight to the shower to relieve her sore muscles.

--------------------------------

 By the time Evelyn made her way unto the campus, the pain had lessened considerably. She still had to walk a bit carefully, but she didn’t feel as raw as before. While she showered, she also noticed bruises alongside her hip and waist - she even had to use more than a bit of makeup to cover the new ones Loki had ‘affectionately’ placed in plain sight on her neck.

 She was especially hard to bruise, so she was baffled at the amount she currently had.

 Evelyn thought that she should at least feel miffed about it, but somehow the thought of being marked as his, in any way, sent a thrill through her being. Even when he was rough at some points...

  I had sex just once and I’m already a deviant…hehe.

 Evelyn was quite busy daydreaming about the naughty events from last night, that she didn’t see the tall figure standing in her way as she headed towards Loki’s office.

 ‘Oof!’

 As expected, she collided straight into the person’s side, yelping in the process.

 “Oh shit - I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention…”

 She looked up apologetically at the woman in front of her - lithe and pale, with narrowed blue eyes that accentuated her intimidating presence. 

 Perhaps because she also had dark hair and sharp facial features, she saw a vague resemblance to Loki.

 “Obviously, you weren’t,” the woman replied curtly, before giving a tight smile,

“But, I’ll forgive you if you were to lend some assistance.”

 Her tone carried a sort of cold arrogance, as Evelyn shrunk underneath her stare. She even had Loki’s accent…

 “Uh...of course! How can I help…?” Although she was in a bit of a rush to get to where she needed to be, she did not want the woman in front of her to be any more pissed off than she already seemed to look.

 She showed Evelyn a map of the campus that was in her hands, pointing at the building she wanted to head to, “This map is much too complicated for me, and I’m trying to look for this building. I need to find someone, and this is where his office is apparently.”

 “Oh, I’m actually heading there!” Evelyn was glad that the woman pointed towards the science department - the campus was fairly large, and she barely knew half of the map. “If you don’t mind me asking, who’re you trying to find? I can show you to them directly…”

 She didn’t have to go the extra mile, merely walk with her to the building. But Evelyn had always been a people pleaser.

 “Ah, I’m looking for my brother. Are you a student of his, perhaps? I do know that he teaches here…Loki Odinson. Or Laufeyson, whatever he wants to go by nowadays.”

 “Brother? You’re Loki’s sister?” Evelyn asked in a surprised tone, voice elevated. He did mention he two had siblings during their date, but he never went into detail about anything.

 The woman looked at her oddly, a small chuckle leaving her lips, “Well, you certainly sound quite familiar with him.”

 Evelyn realized her mistake, hastily rushing to fix it. Loki was fine with Candice knowing everything, but she still wasn’t sure about his side of the family. 

 “Oh, about that...I usually just call all the professors by their names, haha…”

 “My brother really dislikes being referred to in an informal manner, so I find the idea of him allowing that unlikely.”

 “.....”

 Evelyn was momentarily speechless, akin to a deer in headlights. 

 “Uhm, you see, I -“

 “No need to explain,” the woman stepped closer, a bit too close for comfort as she scrutinized Evelyn’s face, “You’re his exact type, you know. Short, timid, pretty. He’s probably quite taken with you...” 

 As she looked her up and down, a spark of realization lit her eyes..

 “Miss...you’re stepping out of line here.”

She was assuming way too much, for just a minor slip up. And who spoke like this to someone they just met? 

 “Oh, It's just harmless teasing,” she stepped back, her smile starting to look a lot more natural. 

 She pulled out her hand for a handshake, “ Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Hela. Hela Odinson. And you?”

 Evelyn gave a momentary look of reluctance before accepting the handshake, “Uhm, Evelyn Monroe. Nice to meet you, I guess?”

 Hela’s smile became broader, “Let’s walk and talk, hmm?”

 Evelyn was very uncomfortable, but started to walk regardless.

 As they made their way towards Loki’s office, Hela, surprisingly, insisted on making small talk. Evelyn pegged her for the cold and silent type like her brother, but she was entirely the opposite. She asked general questions about what Evelyn did, her age, etc. But unfortunately, she also kept asking suggestive questions, hoping for another slip up on her end.

 “I haven’t spoken to my brother in a while, so I’m clueless as to how he’s doing. Does he treat you well, Evelyn?”

 Hela began adopting a familiar and warmer tone, softening Evelyn’s first impression. It succeeded in lulling her into a sense of minor comfort, “Oh, he treats me very well. I mean, he’s pretty nice to all of his students, most times...” 

 “Hm, that’s surprising. His personality is treacherous, so I expected the opposite.”

 Evelyn looked at her quizzically. For his sister, she sure spoke like she disliked him to a large degree.

 “Since I like you, I’ll give you a bit of advice,”

Hela turned to look at her then, meeting her eyes,

“Don’t get too attached to a man like Loki, especially if he thinks you’re a temporary plaything. He gets... annoyed, quite easily. You weren't the only one he happened to fancy so much in the past...so I'd know.”

….?!??

“Excuse me, but what -“ Evelyn started, but then the dark, pissed off voice of her professor sounded from behind them.

 “Hela,”

 His face was pulled into a tight scowl, trained directly at his sister, “ What nonsense are you spewing?”

 Loki appeared behind them suddenly out of thin air, startling the wits out of Evelyn. Before she could ponder the possibility that he had magical powers, she realized they just passed the lecture hall where his class was, on the way to his office.

 “I took time out of my busy schedule to see you, dear brother...one would think you’d sound a bit more affectionate. Hasn't it been a year since we last spoke?”

 “Slither back to whatever hell you came from, woman.”

 “Well, I suppose that’s close enough.”

 Evelyn looked back and forth between the two, the tension thick and uncomfortable. They were in the middle of the hallway and students still wandered about, so she decided to make an exit. She wanted no part in whatever mystery family drama that was unfolding...and she needed time to ponder over Hela’s words.

  I’ll ask just him about this later...

 “So...um. I’m gonna go ahead to the office, okay? Grade those papers...yippee…”

 She added awkwardly, slowly backing away.

 Loki looked at her then. She hoped his face would soften a bit, but it didn’t. 

“I’ll be there shortly. This won’t take long.”

His answers were short and clipped, so she knew he was pissed. 

She didn’t do anything wrong to her knowledge, so she blamed his mood all on his sister. 

 Before Evelyn left, Hela addressed her one last time.

“It was lovely meeting you, sweetheart. I’m sure we’ll see each other again…”

 “Oh. Uhm, yeah. Nice meeting you too…”

Evelyn didn’t waste anymore time, leaving the pair once she saw Loki’s worsening expression.

 ---------------------

Hela’s words from before repeated inside her head, filling her with a sense of paranoia. But, she had no reason to be paranoid, right? Loki said they were exclusive, after all. He said he wanted her to be his woman. No, she was his woman. And he made sure of that last night.

 Evelyn stubbornly pushed her anxieties aside into the far crevice of her mind, reassuring herself with his words. Although Hela was his sister, she and Loki clearly weren’t on good terms. She could’ve said that in order to sabotage their suspected relationship.

  God, this is giving me a damn headache...

 She settled in Loki's office, taking the stack of exams from his desk and got comfortable on the couch. She hoped grading and correcting complicated equations would fry her brain enough to stop the fretting, as she waited for him to come.

 Loki appeared after about fifteen minutes, and Evelyn bolted upright once she heard him enter.

 “Oh, Loki! I went ahead and started…”

She paused mid sentence when she saw his expression.

“...Grading…”

 Why did it feel like she was in some sort of trouble? The heck?

His face didn’t change much from when he spoke to Hela, so it made her nervous.

 Evelyn just opted to stay quiet for now. She’d ask about Hela later once he looked a little less pissed off. She was his girlfriend now, but she still felt his authoritative presence especially when they were on campus.

 Well, she was going to stay quiet, until his deep voice resounded inside the room.

 “I'm curious about something, Evelyn.”

  Uh oh. Why's he using that voice?

 "How did that...woman, know that we were involved with each other?"

 "Uh...woman? I mean, I thought she said she was your sister…?"

 "That isn't the answer to my question."

 Inwardly, Evelyn felt whiplashed. Everything was so dandy this morning and last night...so how did things take such a strange turn so quickly?

 "Look, when she told me she was your sister, I said your first name on impulse. That's literally it! She assumed stuff based on that one thing…"

 Evelyn put the papers on her lap to the side, feeling frustrated, "And…it really isn't that big a deal, right? You said that people outside the school could know. You were fine with Candice knowing, so why not -"

 He cut her off before she could finish,

"Darling, let me say this in a way that you can comprehend," 

  In...in a way that I can comprehendddd? Did he just call me stupid eloquently?

 Evelyn was stunned into silence as Loki spoke, and he moved to stand above her as she sat rigidly on the couch. "Such a simple mistake, regardless of who it was, is monumental. Your words weren't what gave you away, Evelyn. But your body language. You're entirely too expressive for your own good,"

 He sighed a disappointed sigh, moving away to pinch the bridge of his nose, "At any rate, I can live with Hela knowing...but for future reference, avoid her. At all costs."

 Loki looked at her then, eyes stern, "Do you understand what I'm saying? Or should I elaborate further?"

 Evelyn was honestly a bit speechless. She felt extremely put off and mildly hurt… that he spoke to her like she was a child, rather than his lover.

She really hated herself right now. Was she actually about to cry? He would seriously think she was childish, if this was how she was going to react.

 Tears wouldn’t do her any favors, especially once he was in this kind of mood anyway.

Why am I so fucking sensitive?!

She sighed shakily, swallowing the knot in her throat as she replied, "Yeah...I got it."

 "Good, then." 

 He moved casually to sit behind his desk, attempting to soften his tone with his next words, "You can work for maybe half an hour, then I'd like to treat you to dinner. Seeing that woman left an unpleasant taste… but spending more time with you should remedy that."

 She didn't reply, and only stared at the floor.

 "... Evelyn?"

 When she glanced up, he saw that her large, hazel eyes were shimmering with unshed tears.

”I’m... I’m going to use the restroom, okay? I’ll be back,”

 She got up quickly. And before he could properly react, she promptly went to exit the room.

--------------

A/N:  Your thoughts bring me joy, I greatly appreciate each and every one! Please let me know what you thought :)

[creedslove]

Lately I've been sad, so maybe reader has been down for awhile and just starts sobbing one day, followed by Victor comforting them?

Hey dear anon, I am sorry if you've been feeling like that! I've had some days like that myself and I know it sucks, so I hope you are feeling better now, if you aren't yet then I really hope this will help you out 💜💕

I dedicate this piece to all of you who aren't feeling joyful for one reason or another, may you guys be okay and have a soft!Victor to help you through it 💜💕

● When you arrived home, you could feel the stress running all over your body

● It hadn't been a good day at all. You had already been dealing with some stressful situations at work throughout the week, but your increasing headache, combined with your boss being rude to you over a situation that was not at all your fault, was the cherry on top

● However, when you thought you were done, a silly argument with your best friend made things worse, which explained perfectly your sad mood

● Returning home was a relief, but Victor was out hunting, so you took the time to have a shower and reflect on your situation

● You felt your muscles heavy and sore, and even though the shower had made you feel at least physically better, the ache in your heart was still bothering. You felt so blue and in need of affection

● Victor's delay in coming back home, only contributed to your loneliness, so you saw yourself tearing up and soon enough you were sobbing in a dark, cold and empty living room

● When your feral boyfriend entered the cabin he smelled your tears and he didn't like it all, so he rushed to you, already planning on clawing whoever had hurt his little kitten

● You saw him and immediately ran into his arms, being welcomed by his warmth and scent, feeling safe and happier

● “I missed you” you said sobbing and burying your face into his neck, being in his eye level since Victor's grip was so tight around you he lifted you up some inches

● “I missed you too, kitten” he purred back and nuzzled your face. “I took long to return because of this” he held now a bunch of wildflowers, which you hadn't noticed at first. “I picked them myself because-”

● Victor interrupted himself, feeling a bit embarrassed about saying that, for a moment he realized how stupid the murderous Victor Creed picking flowers in the nature must have been, but was distracted when he felt your soft hand against his cheek, in a gentle caress. He looked at you and grinned, your eyes looking even more beautiful because of your tears “... because what, Victor?”

● He took you to the couch without any trouble, as if you didn't weight anything at all and turned on the lights, making the environment lighter “I'll tell you why I picked them up if you tell me why you've been crying…”

● Victor wouldn't take no for an answer, so you just placed yourself into his lap and stared at his handsome face, letting him now the entire story

● Victor listened to it patiently, alternating between softly scratch your back and just remove some strands of hair from your face

● When you were done, you had tears in your eyes again, but he just cupped your face in his big hands and caressed it, letting you lean into his touch

● “You and your friend will eventually get in good terms again, and if you don't, fuck that bitch, you don't need someone to take you down like that…” he purred and nuzzled your neck

● “And about that piece of shit you call ‘a boss’ I've already told you, Y/N. You don't need to stay there, get all that amount of shit and get paid peanuts. You should quit and look for a job you really love, and if you don't want any, you know I'll take care of you…” he kissed your neck again “I'll always take care of you” Victor whispered

● “What about the flowers?” you raised your eyebrows, feeling curious but also so much better after your boyfriend’s words “I picked them up because they smell like you… Delicious” Victor closed his eyes and let you take the lead in the kiss

● After a make out session, you two decided to order some takeout, since you weren't in the mood for cooking and he made sure to order your favorite

● After that, you guys watched some movies. Victor usually prefers horror movies, but he was willing to go with a boring rom-com if that'd lift up your mood

● But he had already done that, even if he didn't realize it, he had made you better ever since he walked into your life, and that night, it wasn't different

● So you decided to watch the scariest movie you could find, that way you'd have a perfect excuse to snuggle closer to him

● That led to some steamy sex, of course, but when you guys were done, you kissed his chest and smiled “I loved the flowers, Victor”

● “Good, because I love you, frail”

_______

💜💕

[bisexual-bookman]

Payback

Rating: Explict

Pairing: Tyki/Kanda

Word Count: 1,611

Tags: Oral sex; Blowjobs; Orgasm denial

Summary: "Tyki looked down, seeing those glittering dark eyes staring back up at him. That look always set Tyki’s pulse racing. The blue of Kanda’s eyes was nearly overtaken by his pupils, the lust that was gleaming in them nearly as strong as the teasing air the man had about him." 

In which Tyki learns that maybe teasing Kanda isn't such a great idea after all.

[Read on AO3]

The soft sound of rain against the apartments windows was nothing more than white noise to Tyki; the noise only amplified the spell that the lips on him had cast. He was dizzy, the blood pounding in his head, coupled with the rough hands trailing over his thighs made his breaths come in pants. His head lolled back, thumping against the back of the couch. A soft groan left him as that skilled tongue pressed against the head of his dick, slipping to massage the underside.

Tyki looked down, seeing those glittering dark eyes staring back up at him. That look always set Tyki’s pulse racing. The blue of Kanda’s eyes was nearly overtaken by his pupils, the lust that was gleaming in them nearly as strong as the teasing air the man had about him.

Tyki’s breath hitched as Kanda pulled almost off Tyki’s dick, sucking lightly on the tip. His tongue swirled over the head. Kanda’s strong hands slid higher up Tyki’s thighs, reaching around to kneed Tyki’s ass.

Tyki’s eyes slid closed at the ministrations, a shocked moan leaving him as he felt Kanda suddenly slide back down Tyki’s dick, taking him in fully. Tyki could feel the other man’s nose buried in the course hair at the base of his cock. His hands shook as he tightened his grip in the long, silky locks. When Kanda didn’t move at all, Tyki pulled at the dark hair, urging the other man to continue.

Tyki sighed in relief when Kanda started moving, only for it to turn into a groan of disappointment as Kanda slid all the way off.

“You keep pulling like that and I’m leaving you to deal with this yourself.”

“Really? Usually this gets you going.” Tyki said with a smirk, giving the strands another hard pull. Kanda’s eyelids fluttered at the harsh action, a breathy groan leaving him.

“And right now, I’d really appreciate it if you were a little quicker.” Tyki said.

Kanda snorted, turning his head out of Tyki’s grasp. He lowered his head again, Tyki’s dick twitching in excitement as he watched those wet, red lips come closer, only to detour and attach themselves to his inner thigh. Tyki let out an irritated groan, feeling those thin lips curl against his skin.

“This is payback,” Kanda breathed against Tyki’s thigh, his lips slowly trailing higher.

“Payback?”

“For the other night,” Kanda gave as way of explanation. His tongue joined his lips against Tyki’s skin, the slick muscle tracing idle patterns.

Tyki’s mind stuttered to a halt, making it hard for him to recall what he had done exactly to deserve this sort of punishment.

Oh. That’s right.

A sudden image of Kanda below him, his breathy groans in Tyki’s ear as Tyki shallowly thrust into him. Rolling his hips lightly, Tyki heard Kanda’s breath hitch in response.

“You fuck,” Kanda tried to snarl, the words instead coming out as a heavy breath as Tyki attached his lips to the other man’s neck. A soft chuckle left Tyki.

“Now, now Beautiful, you know what you have to do.”

“I’m not…ngh…going to say it,”

Tyki buried his face into Kanda’s dark hair, breathing out his next words at Kanda’s irritated groan.

“Say it, and I’ll let you cum.”

A hard bite to his thigh jolted Tyki’s focus back to the dark head of hair in between his legs.

“No, Beautiful, no, no, no,”

Tyki knew what the other man was up to. Tyki had delayed the others orgasm for longer than usual, Kanda’s stubbornness especially hard to combat that night. Tyki knew the grudge that Kanda could hold. Knew the other man’s thin patience would be put aside so that his revenge could be executed perfectly.

A dark chuckle came from Kanda.

“I told you, didn’t I?”

Tyki groaned low as the hot breath caused shivers to race through him. Kanda had muttered the promise of his revenge into his pillow, his eyes slipping shut before his words were even done, his sore body relaxed under Tyki’s soft touches.

“I thought you wouldn’t remember.”

Kanda didn’t bother replying, instead pressing against Tyki’s knees, silently urging the other man to spread his legs further.

A loud moan left Tyki as that hot mouth connected to his groin. Kanda licked, kissed and nibbled his way through Tyki’s ever increasing moans. His hands never idle, Kanda touched were he couldn’t reach, smoothing over his thighs, caressing his balls before his tongue followed. Making sure to skirt around Tyki’s hard and wanting cock.

Pushing his shirt up slowly, too slowly in Tyki’s option, Kanda trailed his mouth upwards, mouthing along Tyki’s chest.

“You know what you have to do.” Kanda muttered against Tyki’s skin, parroting Tyki’s own words from the other night. Tyki groaned at the soft words, knowing his stubbornness was nowhere near a match for Kanda. Doesn’t mean he couldn’t try though.

“Good luck,” Tyki said with a strained chuckle. Kanda hummed, looking up at Tyki through his bangs.

“Pity.”

A shuttering groan left Tyki as Kanda latched onto his nipple, rolling the bud in his mouth. His teeth grazed the skin lightly, tongue quickly darting out to lap away any pain. Kanda’s cold hands against Tyki’s heated skin made his head spin, those long fingers sliding up his sides. Kanda’s mouth slowly, tortuously slow, explored the newly exposed skin. A heavy sigh left Tyki as Kanda’s hot mouth wandered over his pecs. Those delicious lips seemed to follow no pattern, calmly exploring, seemingly unbothered by Tyki’s heaving chest.

Growing impatient, Tyki shallowly thrust his hips, trying to gain some friction on his wanting erection. But Kanda had angled his body away from Tyki, making it impossible for Tyki to touch him at all. Tyki felt Kanda’s lips curl against his skin at the action, the smugness coming off Kanda in waves.

Tyki felt his defences start to crumble as he felt Kanda’s teeth join the mix. Feeling them bite his skin, Tyki was more than sure he would have dark love bites greeting him in the morning. A low whimper left Tyki at the sharp sting of teeth biting his flesh.

Between the haze settling over Tyki’s mind, and the stark contrast of Kanda’s gentle lips and rough hands on his skin, Tyki couldn’t tell whether the curses he was spouting was in his head or out loud.

Judging by the others quick breath on his skin, which Tyki knew was the other laughing, he was going to say out loud.

Kanda’s nails raked down Tyki’s thighs, a stuttered curse leaving him at the action. He really did curse Kanda’s flawless knowledge of his weak spots. He would pull it out when Tyki least expected it, his hands pawing, lips kissing, making Tyki’s orgasm come hard and quick.

Tyki’s head was swimming, his body flying. The only thing keeping him grounded was the feeling of Kanda’s hands running over his chest, sliding through the hair there, playing with it, teasing it.

“Oh my God,” Tyki groaned.

Kanda’s nails scraped down Tyki’s abdomen, hard. Tyki knew there would be welts to greet him later.

“Kanda, I - ngh – I yield,”

“Yield? I don’t care whether you yield or not. Tell me what you want me to do.” Kanda whispered, his hot breath on Tyki’s wet chest causing shivers to run down his spine. A low groan worked its way up Tyki’s throat. He didn’t want to say it, cursed the thought of saying it, but Kanda’s mouth was trailing lower again, and those hands too…

“Yu, plea – ah – please, make me- “A sharp bite made Tyki correct his words, “Let me cum.”

Tyki felt Kanda stop moving, holding his breath as he looked down to the other man. Kanda licked his lips, a smug glint in his eyes.

A loud moan erupted from Tyki as he finally felt Kanda’s mouth on his dick; lips moving, tongue massaging. Tyki spread his legs wider as Kanda started bobbing his head. Tyki could hear the small noises coming from Kanda; the low groans, small moans. Tyki could feel himself getting drunk on it, his thoughts jumbled, his movements awkward as he reached for Kanda’s shoulders. Tyki’s moans grew louder, his fingers clawing into Kanda’s skin, giving the paler man his own set of matching welts.

“Fuck me, fuck fuckfuckfuck,”

Tyki was losing himself the lower Kanda slid down his cock. Able to feel Kanda’s nose bury itself in the hair at the base of his cock. Hands shaking, sliding over Kanda’s flawless skin, Tyki was trying to grip onto something to ground him.

A hard suck, and those talented hands massaging his ass, Tyki came hard into Kanda’s waiting mouth.  

It was a soundless orgasm, Tyki’s head thrown back, fingers tangled in Kanda’s long hair, his back arching painfully.

Tyki could still feel Kanda’s lips moving, getting every last drop out of Tyki’s orgasm, his throat working as he swallowed everything down.

Tyki collapsed on the couch, panting. He could feel Kanda slide off of him, his long fingers carefully uncurling Tyki’s from his hair. Once done, Tyki felt the couch dip beside him, and the brush of Kanda’s hair on his arm.

As Tyki caught his breath, Kanda’s hand ran up and down Tyki’s arm, the gentle caress relaxing Tyki. A pleased hum left him as he felt Kanda’s lips softly press against his jaw.

“You gave up quicker than I thought you would.”

Tyki cracked one eye open, his vison full of Kanda’s victorious expression.

“You smug son-of-a-bitch,” Tyki muttered, leaning in to press his lips against Kanda’s, swallowing down the low laugh from the other man.

[hattywatch]

Paul Bissonnette - Blue Sky Holiday

A/N: I wrote this for @hockeyandtaylorswift because she had a bad day. Send her some love ❤️

Saturdays were not meant to be terrible, rotten, no good days. Saturdays are for sleeping in, and mimosas, and shopping. Loathe to say, that's not exactly how your day is panning out.

Friday hadn't really set you up for success. Paul's flight was cancelled, so who knows when he was going to come home. He missed your anniversary dinner because of it, which is not his fault. You know this. But it set you in a distinctly somber mood for the weekend anyway.

After he text you about the flight delay, you called the restaurant and cancelled your reservation, the one you booked 3 months ago, and resigned yourself to being a mope-y mess on the couch with a pizza.

It was sad enough last night as you fell asleep alone on the couch, shrouded in blankets and surrounded by snacks, but it was worse this morning when you woke up with a stiff neck.

Standing in the shower you try your best to let the hot water work your sore muscles out of their knots. It's pretty fruitless, but at least you've washed away the smell of stale pizza and disappointment.

You wrap your hair in a towel and plop on your bed carefully, still trying to be gentle with your neck, and plug in your dead phone- staring at it until it lights up. When it finally boots up, you go straight to your texts hoping Paul will have sent you any good news.

Your texts are dry, only a few Macy's flash sales alerts waiting in your inbox.

Desperately needing a break, you slather on a face mask and lay in bed, contemplating how cranky and annoyed you are. Stewing in the bad mood helps for about 3 minutes before you start missing Paul.

You know it isn't fair to be angry. This is his job and he can't control flights and weather. But you're capital M-Mad and quickly becoming capital S-Sad the longer you think about the evening you both missed out on. You feel your eyes well up in tears and start fanning your face with your hand to stop them from spilling.

It holds off until you at least wash the mask off.

After allowing yourself a little sob, you decide to do your hair and make-up, maybe go shopping for a new outfit so when Paul finally does get home, you can have a nice evening, even if it is a day late.

It seems to be going well, your hair still drying in a towel on your head while you pat primer into your skin. Your eyeshadow looks great, but it seems your liquid eyeliner can sense your mood, because as you try to thicken up the right line to match the left, it all goes to shit. You're now a panda. After wiping it all off and rallying, the second time you can't get your wings quite even and scrub it all off again.

This time you just put on some mascara and call it a day.

To top it all off, your hair is just NOT doing the thing today. It won't hold a curl, won't lay right on your head and is overall just being kind of a bitch.

You muscle it into something resembling a messy bun and stare into your closet dejectedly. Pulling out your favorite leggings, you spot a big bleach stain on the right calf and take a deep breath before sitting on the floor and having a very grown up temper tantrum.

You are decidedly not leaving the house today.

Dragging a blanket off of the chair in the living room, you slink over the the couch and drop into it with a sigh before turning on The Fault in Our Stars so at least your tears wouldn't be wasted.

The credits are starting to roll and you Seamless-ed some ice cream, so you're sat over the pint, ugly crying when you hear the door.

“Honeyyy, I'm hooooome!”

Fuck.

He makes it into the living room before you have time to wipe your runny face and catches you, red handed, mascara tears and tell-tale spoon in your mouth, betraying your mood.

Paul's face goes soft and he tilts his head as he drops his bag by the stairs.

“Did you miss me this much?” He eyes the Phish Food pint that's almost scraped clean, “It was only an extra day.”

He's pushing his hand through the blankets before he finally lands on your thigh, squeezing. It's comforting to feel him on you and have him close.

Your voice sounds small and pitiful when you barely squeak out, “I had a bad day.” Paul's smile is soft and a little sad as he rearranges the pillows you're nestled in to get close to you.

“Yeah, I missed you too.” He pulls you into his chest and kisses the top of your head. You pull away when his stomach growls and look him in the eye, your spirits lifted a little.

“We can go to the diner. I'm hungry too.”

Paul toes off his shoes and pops up the recliner, pulling you onto his chest.

“Nah, I'll order in. I'm not letting you go, we have a bad day to fix.” He winks and you're not sure if he's kidding or not, but your day has certainly turned around since he stepped in the door.

[mmazzeroo]

Chapter 8: JON II - What Took You So Long

@helloimnotawesome - Delayed update for Day 8! (Ironic chapter title considering I update late *eye roll*)

Sorry for missing yesterday's update. *hides face in shame* Was out celebrating my mother's birthday. Hopefully today's chapter should be getting up in a few hours so we're all caught up for tomorrow :) 

JON II - What Took You So Long

'I'm right here'. Was that truly his father's voice? How could he have lost and gained so much in such a short span of time? What trick were the gods playing on him? The gods! Pff! What a fucking joke! He gave up on them years ago. Why not? They'd clearly given up on him, so only fair of him to reciprocate the gesture. If they even exist they're a bunch of absolute assholes!

His head was buzzing. The alcohol still surging through his veins. Spending a couple of hours up on the roof in the cold crisp winter air with Dany had been good for his soul. Her smile and laughter made him long for something he shouldn't be wanting at this time. He had been sitting up there looking at the flames of the fire burning the cold dead body of his wife — and at the same time wanting nothing else but to continue listening to the beautiful voice of the silver-haired, purple eyed woman standing next to him. I'm an asshole! The mother of my children has barely left this world before I start to want something, someone, else. Have I lost all sense of right and wrong?!? Or have I simply become used to losing what I hold dear? Forgive me, Mallandei...

Not since fighting a battle could he remember feeling this depleted in both mind and body. He was trained to follow the evidence, and had to admit the evidence was there for Dr. Stark and Sam to believe he was Dr. Stark's son. Dany clearly believed it too. Dany! As the years had past he had convinced himself that it had all been a dream and that 'Jon Dayne' was just a figment of his vivid childish imagination. After all he'd never held anything with that name on it. No documents to back up his claim. Just a silly little boy stubbornly holding on to a fantasy. But Sam had handed him documents clearly stating otherwise. Documents that thoroughly smashed his carefully constructed sense of identity.

Can't think. Too tired. Sleep. Just sleep, Jon. Maybe tomorrow you'll wake up and this will all just have been a dream. Or nightmare, he wasn't sure. His world was spinning, falling apart, collapsing. There was only one set of arms he wanted to crash into and sorry dad but it isn't yours. Giving Ghost a weak hug he finally gave in to the fatigue.

Vaguely registering movements and sounds around him he slept for hours and hours. Occasionally hearing voices speaking softly, feeling a hand stroking his hair, a straw brushing against his lips to coax him into drinking, Ghost's tail wagging against his legs, and what was that smell? Babies? Yes, he could feel them next to him now. Babies. My babies!

When he finally started to wake up he found himself alone in bed. Looking around Dany was sitting in a chair hunched over some files. Clearing his throat her head shot up.

"Oh hey! How are you feeling?"

"Tired. Sore," his voice hoarse. Barely able to keep his eyes open he glanced down the bed to where Ghost had been.

"Sam and Ned took him out for a bit. I'm sure they'll be back shortly."

Nodding weakly he let his eyes slid closed again.

Once again he felt her stroke his hair. Tenderly she wiped his forehead, face and neck with a moist cloth. Cleaning off the sweat. Those soft warm hands. So gentle. So full of affection. Leaving a trail of tingling on his skin wherever she had touched. I can't bare that she's so kind. Why can't she be a stupid bitch? Would make this easier. Then I wouldn't like her so much... He felt a few tears slip from his eye and roll down the bridge of his nose. Turning his head away hoping she wouldn't notice.

A light fingertip was trailing the track of his tears and a soft voice whispered, "I'm sorry all this is being thrust upon you at once, but please...Jon, don't hide from me." Her hand was stroking his hair from his forehead. Please stop, but whatever you do don't stop. "No shame in tears. Let me help you through this. Let me be your strength till you regain your own." No, don't say that! More tears. He turned his head towards the voice. That voice so soft he could practically feel the affection flowing from it like raindrops during a thunderstorm - lethal yet so cleansing and soothing.

"I don't know who I am anymore. Don't even know my own name." His voice was a mere whisper, hoarse and choking on all the emotions he couldn't name. "It's too much. It's all too much. Everything. It's just..." He trailed off not knowing any words to describe how he felt.

The hand on his head was still slowly caressing his hair. So soothing. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had showered him with such affection. Of course Mallandei, but that was mainly in the throes of passion. Not like this. Not out of simple kindness for another human being. It was such a sweet and good gesture his heart was breaking and being mended simultaneously.

"It's 'Jon'. Your name is 'Jon'. We can keep it at that for now, hmm?" 'Jon'. Yes, I'm Jon.

He gave a silent nod. Thank you.

"I'm afraid." He'd somehow found the strength to open his eyes and look at her. From where he had no idea. But he needed to see if there was any judgement lurking anywhere in those beautiful lakes of purple. He saw none.

"Anyone would be."

"No."

"No?" There was a smidge of surprise in her voice and eyes.

"It's you." She gave him a puzzled look. "I'm afraid...with you."

Her hand was immediately withdrawn from his hair and her eyes were beginning to pool with tears of their own. Holding on to the rail of the bed as if to steady herself she took a trembling breath.

"You want me to leave?" Her voice professional but laced with a thin layer of hurt she couldn't cover up.

"No."

"You want me to stay then?"

"No."

A reluctant amused smile on her lips for the briefest of moments.

"Sorry if I've crossed any lines with you. That was never my intention." Honest yet professional voice.

"You haven't," he slowly reached a hand up to her face. Now it was his turn to wipe a tear from her eye, "but I'm afraid I might want you to."

With a faint reddish taint on her cheeks she grabbed his hand - still resting on the side of her face - by the wrist and held it to her lips. The softest of touches sent a tingle down his arm from where she'd kissed his palm.

"I'm ready when you are." That look! Oh gods, if you're truly there, please let me have this one gift and have her look at me like this for the rest of my life.

She cleared her throat and said, "now if you'll excuse I need to..go..do.....something..." Gathering her files she turned on her heels and was out the door.

He took a deep painful breath and felt all his muscles relaxing. A small smile finding it's way to his lips and slowly, but surely, grew into a full blown grin. Seen me at my worst and still likes me? Maybe coming to King's Landing wasn't such a bad thing after all? 'We'll see, Jon, we'll see'.

There were some muffled sounds coming from the other side of the door. Then Aggo stepped in having opened for Sam carrying Ghost. He had fresh bandages on his burn wounds. Dany said they were healing up really well. Maybe he'd stopped threatening to bite the head of the other vets. He chuckled at the thought of how pissed off Ghost must have been those first few days down there in the pen. Being reunited here in the bed had somewhat calmed down the animal. Next challenge was that he hated confinements of any kind, and even Dany had come up short with ways of preventing him from biting off the cast on his leg. So they'd surrendered and instead put a leg brace which he luckily seemed to accept - for now at least. You liking her is the best recommendation anyone could get. You're trying to tell me something, boy?

Following Sam was Ned, dad, sporting a new cane. Placing Ghost back on the bed, Sam turned saying he would go grab some food and be back in about half an hour. Again leaving him alone with Ned. Did he stay all night? Watching over me?

Ned was still standing by the door. Looking a bit hesitant.

"There's someone who'd really like to meet you if you're up for it?"

"Oh," he did not expect that, "who?"

"My wife, Catelyn." Ohh!! Aunt Cat??

"She's here?"

"Right outside the door. Want me to fetch her?"

Too nervous and choked up to speak he simply nodded eagerly.

With a responding smile Ned opened the door and waved her in.

A lab coat wearing woman took a few cautious steps into the room and stopped next to Ned. Another ghost. As with his father, she was recognisable enough for him - just a slightly older version of the woman he remembered.

"Hello Jon. Is ok if I come closer?"

He nodded slightly.

When she was by the bed she stopped and took a long look at him. Reaching up to hold his face in her hands she couldn't hold back her tears any longer.

"Our beautiful boy is back home."

Tears streaming down her face she gave him a loving kiss on the forehead.

He put his hand over hers still holding his head. He couldn't help but lean into the touch. He had known so much love and affection as a little boy, but after..... I fought so hard to hold on to my own humanity all those years!

"...home..." Just a whisper passed his lips. Home is soft touches, no hiding, purple eyes...and silver hair. Oh gods I'm in too deep.

She lifted her head and looked at him, really studying his face, holder his hands in hers.

"Your brothers and sisters are going to be so excited when they hear about this. Whenever you're ready of course!" She look in his eyes. "No rush, it'll be overwhelming I'm sure."

"Brothers? Sisters? How many?" He could barely believe it. "I only remember Robb and baby...baby...wait I know this." Cat and Ned exchanged a small smile. "Sansa! Baby Sansa, and you were pregnant when..." He looked down at their hands.

"Arya - I was pregnant with Arya. Looks just like you, my dear." A warm smile on her face, "and Bran a few years later."

"I have two brothers and two sisters?" Oh gods! He broke down sobbing. I thought I was alone for so long!!

"Yes, you do, son, and you can meet anytime you want." It was his dad speaking now.

"Tonight? Please! Can I meet them tonight?" Trying to smile through sobs wasn't easy and his damn ribs were constantly hurting, but he'd been waiting so long! If possible he didn't want to wait another minute. Tiredness and pain be damned!

Laughing Ned and Cat both nodded.

"Of course! Cat can go gather the team while you and I get you dressed and in the chair. When Sam gets back he can stay with Ghost. What do you think of that?"

"Sounds like a plan!" Clearing his throat he tentatively added "...dad."

Battling his own tears his father gave him a shy smile, tussled his hair and said "then let's get to work!"

Meeting them in the hallways as his father rolled him out of the lift was a stunningly beautiful, tall woman with striking purple eyes. Looks like an older version of Dany. He gasped when the realisation hit him.

"Welcome home, Jon." There was a familiar smile on the face.

"Aunt Ella?"

She chuckled. "Yes, that's was you dubbed me because you couldn't say my name." She went round to grab the handles of the wheelchair. Ned stepping to the side leaning on his cane.

"Now let's go meet the rest of the gang, shall we?"

She rolled him down a large hallway and into what was clearly the living room of this grand residence. On their way up his father had briefly told him that they all lived up there and that it would 'larger than what you're used to'. Only place he'd set foot that could compete with this place would be the Pyramids of Meereen.

Crossing the room to greet them was Cat. She leaned down slightly as she said, "they can be a bit rowdy so best to keep them in a tight leash in the beginning, Captain." There was a mirthful look in her eye as she winked at him.

Feeling all eyes on them he kept a stone-face as he replied, "understood Dr. Stark!"

Aunt Ella and his father rolled him over to the seating area. There were three couches set up in a three-winged formation. As his eyes scanned the faces there were a silver-haired man sitting on the right, next to Dr. Martell, who looked like he'd seen a ghost. I know the feeling and I'm sorry. Right across from him were the two adult versions of what he guessed to be Robb and Sansa. There was a hint of recognition in his brother's blue eyes, but not enough for him to act on it. Sansa was sitting between Robb and Dany, who looked like she'd figured out what he was doing up here. Cat was sitting in the couch on the left. Next to a grey eyed young woman. Arya? Next to her was another silver-haired man who had same look in his eye as Robb. He didn't say anything either though clearly waiting for an announcement to be made. In a wheelchair next to the couch was a auburn haired teenage boy. Bran? What happened to you?

Everyone was quiet and looking expectantly over at him, Ned and Aunt Ella. His father started to speak, but clearly had trouble finding the right words.

Gesturing towards him sitting in the wheelchair he said, "this is..uh..ha..I'm sure you're all wondering...what...uhmm..." His father swallowed and glanced nervously at all the faces before them.

He laid a hand on his father's arm.

"What Dr. Stark is trying to say is," looking directly at Arya as he continued, "that my baby sister helped save my life about a week ago."

There was a variety of reactions, not that he had time to notice any in particular because he was immediately caught in a tight bearhug by Arya.

"Whoa! Easy there tiger," he couldn't help laughing, "watch the ribs, yeah? My family needs me, remember?"

Pulling back she stared at him for a beat or two before quietly mumbling, "you heard that?"

"It's the last thing I remember hearing before everything turned black and I woke up here at this hospital."

She grinned. Then immediately proceeded to scowl and slap him on the shoulder.

"What took you so long?!"