#there are several places where it gives the times of events ending

[1phakephan]

plzzzz they’re really not slick 😭😭

and yeah i agree i’m like 90% sure it was filmed the 16th

OK i can officially confirm this couldn’t have been filmed later than friday !!

i have the game and there was an event that ended on the 18th (as in last day was the 17th) that was still going when they showed them using the game

[e-vay]

SONIC’S MOM (in my AU)

I’ve spent a really long time working on Sonic’s mom for my AU but I’m finally ready to share her with you!

I wrote this out in text form below the cut for those of you who need to translate it:

Domino was a free-spirited, independent hedgehog. Despite being dealt some rough cards in life, she always had an upbeat attitude and could find the silver lining to almost any situation. Domino had to get by with just the clothes on her back, so she quickly learned to be very resourceful. She was adamantly against material things, except for her one gold earring that she treasured. Her lack of funds led to a nomadic lifestyle, but this gave her a greater appreciation for the planet and she ended up loving her minimalist way of life.

A one-time tryst led to Domino being pregnant with Sonic at a relatively young age. Though she knew nothing about being a mom, she loved him instantly. She couldn’t offer him much, so she did her best to teach him how to make the most out of what little they had and to appreciate all the wonderful things the planet has to offer. Sonic was able to crawl, walk and soon run faster than most babies, so he was very quick to fend for himself. This made Domino’s life easier and more challenging at the same time!

PHLOX: Sonic’s biological father. He and Domino met while they were both passing through the same village and had instant chemistry. She wasn’t one to stay in one place for long, so she took off after one night together. He never knew about Sonic.

Being a young, single mom is tough enough. When your baby has the ability to run at super speeds, it gets even more complicated. Domino was constantly repairing Sonic’s baby shoes when he repeatedly wore the rubber off, but eventually even her trusty roll of duct tape wasn’t enough to cut it. She ended up giving up her solid gold earring to buy him a pair of durable shoes that could withstand his speed.

Domino had a bad habit of telling tall tales. She didn’t do this to be malicious; she just liked to make her life sound more interesting than it was. This tended to get her into trouble, but made for excellent bedtime stories!

One unfortunate night, a terrible storm rolled in and caused a flash flood in the forest where Domino and Sonic were occupying. Domino knew Sonic would be able to outrun it, so she urged him to get away and leave her behind. Domino did not survive.

This traumatic event had a huge impact on toddler Sonic and is not only the reason he’s afraid of water, but why he stopped talking for several years when he was little. With time, he forgets this event and even forgets Domino, and he finds his voice again.

[brailsthesmolgurl]

GIVE ME ANOTHER CHANCE

Here comes another angsty fluffy one-shot request by one of my readers. Featuring everyone's fav doctor, Zayne. Enjoy the story! Warnings: Angst but yes to Comfort

"How can you expect me to do my damn job but also expect me not to be hurt?" You gritted your teeth, eyes shooting daggers into Zayne's side profile. He seemed unbothered by you raising your voice slightly, either he is used to it, or he expected it. Or both.

"Then I would suggest you to quit your job." His words were finalised, no variations in tone or anything. Just a statement, a sentence with a full stop. Your eyes welled up with tears. How could he not understand? To at least give you the benefit of the doubt that accidents would happen in your line of job, but you would do your best to minimise it?

"I won't." You walked over to him and you noticed his head turned slightly to face you. "And I am done with you." You grabbed your bag off of his desk and you darted off towards the front door. Zayne got off of his chair to hold you back but before he could grab your hand, you threw him your statement. "I do not wish to see you ever again. Have a good life."

Zayne was out at a charity event hosted by Akso Hospital, to raise funds for the several orphanages at Linkon City. As usual, he was expected to give a speech in front of the crowd, but instead of being the lead cardiac surgeon for Akso, he shall be giving his speech as one of the biggest donors for this event.

But as of now, his time has yet to come, so he stood at one of the cocktail tables, watching the crowd of unfamiliar faces. Although he is one of the best cardiac surgeons, he was not known to be the friendliest amongst his colleagues so generally, not many people would go up and strike a conversation with him.

He finds his mind wandering, floating from what would be a good post-event dessert to what diagnosis he have yet to complete to you. It has been 6 months since the both of you had contacted one another. Zayne however, had tried to call you after you had left but to no avail. And surprisingly, you blocked him so he had no methods to reach out to you. He could have easily come over to your place, but with Zayne being Zayne, he would not intrude into someone else's property if he was not invited at first glance.

His phone vibrated from the inside of his suit, and he peeled apart the right side of his tailored suit to fish out his phone. He stared at the caller's name for quite a bit. Longer than a few seconds. 'Y/N' flashed on his phone's screen. He pressed the phone to his ear. "Hello."

"Zayne." You were huffing and panting, and he could hear your whimper through the line. "I need... I need your help." You tried to explain, one hand holding the phone to your ears while the other pressed up against the deep gash you have on the side of your hips. "Nobody was picking up... I had no choice..."

Your voice. It was breaking up in between chokes and whimpers and sharp inhales. Zayne knew you were hurt, and this time, it is much more severe than any other times when he was there to tend to your wounds. He knew this was coming. No, not the call. He figured you would uphold your ego so much that you would not reach out to him anymore just to prove him wrong. To prove to him that you could take care of yourself.

But look at you now. He knew that there shall be a day where he would have to treat you when you are at your worst condition. He could imagine you being pushed into the hospital, with tendrils of tubes surrounding your body; to administer blood, nutrients, oxygens and many other fluids that your body requires to achieve a stable condition. His mind got snapped back to reality when you no longer spoke on the other side of the line.

"Stay still." You heard someone talking, unsure whether if it was towards you. "Or else you might end up hurting yourself again."

Your eyelids felt heavy as you slowly opened them, taking in your surroundings. The last moment you remembered was you were at one of the danger zones and you were outnumbered by a couple of wanderers. You managed to defeat them with all of your might and yet they manage to give you a wound so nasty it robbed your ability to stand and walk.

The room that you are currently in does not smell sterile at all. In fact, it smells like a mix of lavender and with hints of coconuts. The room was lit only with lamp decors, the light bouncing off of the pristine white walls, tainting it with a shade of beige. The room is tidy and emits the vibes of a cosy home which reminds you of someone you knew.

"Did the concussion made you lost the ability to listen to simple instructions?" You snapped your head to the right side as you slowly sat yourself up and you could not stop your jaw from dropping mentally. Zayne is seated right next to you, an apple in hand and a knife in another, eyes focused on peeling the skin off of the apple. One of his many acquired skills.

Your palm smoothed over your hip and you winced, facial features scrunched together in pain as you realised how bad your wound is. "What happened?" You choked out, still awaiting for the stinging pain to wear off.

"You called me earlier and through the phone, I could tell that you were terribly injured." He brought the peeled apple up to his face, examining it closely before placing it down and taking the next apple to start peeling its skin off. "So I went over to save you."

"But..." You were embarassed, teeth biting onto your bottom lip. "With what I had done previously... you could have-"

"You called me after six months of not being in contact, and you expect me to do nothing with your calls for help?" He spoke, finally placing the half-peeled apple down onto the ceramic plate, a clink followed as he placed the knife down. He looked towards you, his hazel green eyes are only brown within such a dark room. But you could make out the soft gaze he was giving you. "Does it still hurt?"

Your cheeks were hot, your heartbeat ramping up when he got closer to you. "I will leave once I feel better." He quirked one of his thin eyebrows up, a signal of confusion. "As soon as I can walk, I mean." You turned your face away from him, but this time, his fingers were quick to catch your chin, pulling you back to stare at him.

"I'm afraid that might take a while." He lets go of your chin and pulled down the blanket slightly, enough for him to see the bandage wrapped around your hip, and enough for him to notice the bits of skin showing above your hip given he had to wrap your hips so clothing would only be in the way of his treatment. "Your wounds are quite deep this time around. I had used my evol to freeze and cut out some of the dead tissue but I think rest should be your first priority for now."

"Look, I called you because I couldn't reach out to anyone else okay? I will be out of your hair once all of this," you gestured at your wound. "is fully healed." Your chafed statement made him sighed, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his sculpted nose. "So how long will this take? For me to heal?"

"I'm sorry." He muttered, the voice of his faltered alongside the wind chimes that he had hung by the windows. Your whole body was rigid, staring at the man in front of you, apologising to you out-of-the-blue. "It was selfish of me to ask you to quit your job and to not trust you in protecting yourself."

Your lips could not move, as if you were gagged by his remorse, his guilt, his regrets. Six months passed, and yet you did not took it any easier than him despite you were the one who chose to leave him and to never look back. You were the one who blocked him from contacting you entirely, you were the one who thought that he would at least cared about your passion for your work.

However, as a matter-of-fact, you can never forget about him. You always find yourself taking the long way home, purposely passing by Akso Hospital just to catch a glimpse of him. On lucky days, maybe you could catch him from a far distance, getting off of work. On unlucky days, you could still catch his black sedan car parked within the staff columns.

"When you called me, I expected the worst." Zayne's side profile is the only thing you could see now. "I tried contacting you after you had left, but the dial tone always ends, so I assumed that you have blocked me." Hearing how he had tried to reach out to you, your gut twisted, adding on to the pain that you are experiencing physically. "But I would understand if you would want to rest alone at your house instead of mine. I can schedule to send you back home tomorrow before I head off to the hospital."

"Zayne, I, I just couldn't believe it when you asked me to quit my job..." You trailed off, your eyes drooped as you felt your tears weighing them down. "I thought you would have known better that I am a deepspace hunter and that I will always be putting my life on the line."

Zayne leaned over, his shadow loomed over your figure and he placed his hand on the top of your head, slowly smoothing your hair behind your back. His touch was gentle, soothing to your skin. "And I should have trusted you instead of asking you to quit." You can feel the heat radiating from both of his hands cupping your cheeks, your face probably the size of an egg within his grasp. "When you were away, I find myself thinking about you and your safety a lot."

You agreed, your hand coming up to cup over his. The difference between both of your hands always a surprise to you. "I can't help but to want you as well, Zayne." His thumb caught the tear that streamed down your cheeks and he wiped it off. "I am sorry too, for having to walk out on you and on this relationship."

"Now, you should allow yourself to rest." Zayne's lips curled up into a small encouraging smile. He laid you down onto the bed slowly, hovering over you. "Would you still like me to fetch you back home tomorrow?" The shake of your head made him sighed in relief. "Then you should stay here, where I am capable of taking care of you." He peered down at you, his gentle gaze contradictory to his chiseled facial features. "Not only till you get better, but for the future too." The man then leaned down to claim your lips in a soft and longing kiss.

Tadaa! That is the end for this one-shot! It is fluff just as requested by my reader, so I hope this suffices you guys heart <3

[seospicybin]

TEST DRIVE.

#2

Changbin x reader. (s)

Chapters: #1 / #3

Synopsis: You're going on another test drive with your biker boyfriend, Changbin. (7k words)

Author's note: This is for the birthday boy, Changbin and to all the biker!Bin enthusiasts!

The sun isn't high in the sky yet but you're already on the road, riding on Changbin's bike as he spurs the engine and pushing it just a little closer to the limit.

You feel snug as you rest your chest on his back, he feels so warm even though he's only wearing a t-shirt and that's because you're wearing his jacket as usual.

To keep him warm, you give him belly rubs as you rest your head on his shoulder.

"Who's taking a girl out for a ride at 6 in the morning, huh?" You tease him.

Changbin pretends not to hear it and you nuzzle your head as close as possible to his neck even though the helmets are restricting you.

"I'm going back to sleep," you mutter.

He grabs your hand and shakes it, "No, don't sleep! Wake up!"

You hold him tighter and cling to his back with your arms around him, "I can sleep comfortably right here," you mumble.

He places his hand on yours and laces it with yours, "We'll be getting coffee soon," he persuades.

As much as you want to sleep, it's dangerous to sleep while riding on the back of the bike. You turn your head to the side, enjoying the morning view.

"The weather is nice though," you delightfully sigh at the picturesque sight of the rising sun, "look at the sunrise!"

Changbin glances away to see the sunrise on his right then looks straight ahead again, "I wish the traffic is like this every day," he adds.

"That's true," you agree with him as the street is almost empty except for a couple of cars passing by.

The ride isn't a spur-of-the-moment decision, it was planned a week ago. Changbin said he wanted to go to this bike meet in the next town over but the event isn't until the afternoon so he suggested that the two of you take an early ride and enjoy the town in the morning.

"Should I take that exit?" He asks you out of the blue.

If you have to be honest, you don't really care where he takes you, you simply love riding on the back and clinging to him or as in Changbin's words: being his backpack.

"I don't know," you answer with a perplexed look.

"No, we're going the right way," he says, confirming his own question.

The town is nothing like the city you live in and since it's only 8 in the morning, it's rather quiet. Changbin drives slowly while turning his head side to side to find someplace to have breakfast and more importantly, coffee.

After a few minutes of driving around the area, he finally found a diner and parked his bike right outside. You feel rejuvenated the second you have the first sip of coffee and have some hearty breakfast to go with it.

"I kind of want to eat the waffle too but I don't think I can finish my breakfast sandwich," you mumble in dilemma while chewing your food.

"Just order it. I'll finish it for you," Changbin offers as he sips his coffee.

You grin at him and waste no time to order it. He ends up not only finishing your breakfast sandwich but also the waffles.

With your stomach full, you decide to take some time for your body to digest it by taking a walk to the nearest park to enjoy another cup of iced coffee, enjoying the warm weather, looking at people with their pets, and watching the kids playing by the water fountain. You like how everyone is enjoying their day at the park.

When it gets to the middle of the day, the two of you walk back to the bike and you suddenly get the urge to try and practice riding the bike. Changbin has taught you several times and you deem that your driving is safe enough for a quick ride around the block.

"Can I ride?" You ask.

Changbin is putting his leather gloves on and your question makes his eyebrow raised in a mix of worry and surprise.

"Just around the neighborhood," you add.

It's not only your driving that worries him but also because he loves his bike so much which makes him reluctant to let someone else drive it. He takes a step back and looks at you, and you can see that he's considering it.

"Are you going to drop me?" He asks you.

"No," you assure him with a smile.

You don't wait for his permission to get on his bike and for the first time in a while, sit on the front. Before you get to do anything else, you turn on the engine and rev it up.

Once you deem that the engine is ready, you look over your shoulder at him and say, "Come on! Be my backpack!"

He hesitates but seeing that you're already on the bike, he relents. He walks to the back of the bike and puts his hand on your shoulder.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes," you answer, putting your hands on each side of the handle.

"Hold your feet very sturdy!" He reminds you while looking at your form.

"I got it," you say as you obey his words, planting your feet firmly on the asphalt to hold both the bike and your own weight, and soon, Changbin's weight too.

"Did you put the kickstand up?" He asks again.

"Yes," you confirm, it's the first thing you do after getting on the bike.

Changbin looks down to check it himself then nods, "Okay, alright, we're good."

You prepare yourself and grip the handles tightly, "Okay."

"Okay. Here we go," he sighs, signaling you that he's about to get on the bike. He puts both hands on your shoulders and swiftly, hoists himself up to get onto the bike.

He sighs as he settles himself on the back and puts his hands on each side of your waist, "Okay, we're doing it," he says with his voice slightly quivering.

You understand his worries and that's why you only plan on riding it slowly and only for a couple of blocks.

"Are you holding on good?" You ask again because you can feel how rigid he is behind you.

"Yes," he meekly answers.

Following every step Changbin taught you, you slowly let out the clutch lever until the bike starts to roll forward. Once the bike is moving, you start to accelerate slightly and then slowly, you pull your feet up onto the pegs.

You drive in a straight line to adjust yourself to it and also enjoy how it feels to ride a bike, and at the same time, ignoring how Changbin intensely watches your hands shifting the gears with his hands anxiously gripping the sides of your jacket.

You may not be as smooth at shifting gears as Changbin yet but you know your way around them now, when to pull the clutch or let go of the over etc.

"Be careful there's a turn up ahead," he warns you.

However, you still need a lot of practice on turning and it makes you a little panic. You keep your calm and try to apply what Changbin has taught you.

As you enter the turn, you slow down, release the throttle, keep your head up and lean with the bike.

"Oops!" You lowly gasp as the bike gets too close to the curb as you turn.

"Slow down," he reminds you, his hand gripping at your ribcage now.

You lose focus for a second and the bike jolts as you put the wrong combination to shift gears.

Changbin nervously laughs at that, "That was a hard shift," he comments.

"I'm sorry," you meekly say.

"That's okay," he softly says, his hand goes to the front and rests it on your stomach.

Since you still need to practice your turning, you decide to drive in a straight line, slow and steady, and after a while, you feel comfortable enough to pick up the speed.

"I like how this feels," you share with him.

"What?" Changbin asks with his big arm steadily wrapped around you.

"I like having a backpack," you say.

"You like having me as your backpack?"

"Yeah," you answer without shifting your eyes away from the road ahead.

You keep driving for another block and once you are at a stop, you keep the front brake engaged and then plant your feet firmly on the ground.

"Start with your left foot, then your right," you unconsciously mutter to yourself as you're doing it.

Changbin seems to hear it that he chuckles at it and then he lets out a big sigh of relief, wasting not another second to get off the bike while you stay on the bike, turning off the engine and putting the kickstand out.

Getting sweaty from the heat and nerves, you take off your helmet and air it out. You look at him and he looks like he just got off a roller coaster.

"So... how did you like it?" You ask with a low chuckle.

He also takes his helmet off and plants his hands on each side of his waist, "Uh... we did not die so that's something," he jokingly answers.

Well, you're not asking for a compliment but you expect him to, at least, appreciate your effort. You hide your disappointment, looking away and pretending to fix your hair.

Sensing that you're not pleased with his answer, he comes to the front and places his hand on your thigh.

He looks at you as he says, "That was good."

"Thanks, baby," you reply with a smile.

He feels the need to reassure you that he meant his words, he puts his hand under your chin and slowly leans in to kiss you ever so gently that it feels like a soft gust of wind brushing past your lips.

When he pulls away, he smiles at you and then puts his hands on your waist.

You put your hands around his shoulders and pull him close, "Why aren't you a touchy backpack?"

"Why am I not a touchy backpack?" He repeats your question.

"Mmh-hmm."

"Because I was scared for my life," he answers.

"You don't have to worry about that," you tell him.

"And why is that?"

You take his hand and take it inside your jacket, putting it on your clothed breast, "Cause you have two, nice airbags here," you say with a seductive smile.

He looks around, afraid that anyone is seeing this and he quickly draws his hand, getting flustered from doing a lewd act on a bright, sunny day.

He retracts his hand and puts it on your neck, using it to bring your head close so he can kiss you again, a little harder and deeper than the previous one.

The ride continues, Changbin takes the bike through the housing area where the houses share similar designs and are painted in almost the same color hues of pale pink and yellow. It almost feels like you're being transported to a different era.

"The houses are beautiful," you comment, "They're like from the 70s."

He lowers the speed to see the houses and nods, "They're beautiful," he says.

It becomes a normal thing to talk about random things on the road and you're comfortable sharing anything that crosses your head at that moment which you are rarely able to do with anyone before.

He's following the GPS that guides him to where the bike meet and as the bike stops at a red light, it's your time to get a little touchy with him.

You run your hands up his arms, feeling every inch of his skin that gets hot under the sun and gently squeeze his biceps, you can feel the muscles contract under your touch. You eventually take your hands to his shoulders and give him a massage.

He puts his hands off the handlebar and allows himself to relax from your slow yet deep massage.

"Oh, that's the spot," he moans in pleasure.

"You like that, huh?"

He doesn't answer but rests his back against your chest as you put your arms around him, letting you hold him until the lights turn green.

The bike meet is at a parking lot of the town's biggest park where it has a view of the big river that cuts through the town. Arriving there, so many people were already there and bikes filled almost half of the parking lot.

This will be your first time at a bike meet and you don't know what to do at an event like this so you plan on sticking close to Changbin.

"Am I good to get off?" You ask since he already found a spot to park his bike.

"Yes," he answers, planting his feet on the asphalt so you can climb off, and then he proceeds to park the bike on the available spot.

The day is hot so you waste no time to take your helmet off, fanning your neck as you start to get sweaty again.

"Babe, where you at?" Changbin asks, turning his head side to side looking for you.

You walk up to him while carrying the helmet in one hand, "I'm right here," you tell him with your hand touching his shoulder.

He grabs your hand while the other is busy unclasping the strap of his helmet, "It's so hot," he groans.

"Tell me about it!" You say as you keep fanning your sweaty neck.

Just like its name, the bike meet is where bikers come and meet the other bikers, they're hanging out and talking about none other than... bikes. As planned, you're sticking close to Changbin, walking hand in hand while admiring various models of bikes parked in a row.

"Look at that R6!" Changbin says while pointing at a bike.

You don't know what R6 is but you reckon it's the name of the bike model or engine, you have no idea so you just nod at him.

A bike catches his attention and Changbin comes up to the owner and strikes up a conversation with the owner. It's fascinating how the two of them converse about a lot of things even though they were strangers to each other a minute ago. You reckon maybe that's what happens when two people with the same hobbies meet each other.

"Do you want to try? Take a quick lap around the lot?" The owner offers while adjusting his sunglasses on his nose.

"Can I?" Changbin asks with a flustered smile.

"Yes. You can," the owner says, handing him the keys.

You understand that he's just so passionate about these things but you try not to laugh at how Changbin looks like he just got asked out by his crush. He looks smitten, he has a shit-eating grin on his face.

It's funny until Changbin forgot that you're there and only realized it when he saw you standing behind the bike and blinking your eyes at him.

"Do you want to take a ride?" He offers you.

"No, it's okay," you kindly refuse, "I'll just wait here."

Changbin looks like a kid on a Christmas morning as he gets on the bike, his grin doesn't wear off even for a second and he rubs his hands together before wrapping his hands around the handlebar.

"I'll see you in a minute," he says to you.

"Take your time," you say with a smile.

As he leaves for a test drive, the owner kindly takes you to someone's else truck not far from where you are where a group of people gathering there because someone is handing out free beers.

"Thank you," you mutter as someone hands you a cold can of beer.

You take shelter under the tree and take your jacket off as your skin gets sticky with sweat, then quietly sip your beer to quench your thirst.

Having nothing to do, you take your phone out and you check some notifications when a girl comes up and stands next to you.

"Hey, how are you doing?" She asks.

You look up from your phone to look at her because saying it back without looking seems impolite. Your first impression of her is that she has a strong presence, she has tattoos covering her both arms and a septum piercing, and she looks so cool that you feel a little intimidated.

"Hey," you reply with a smile.

She smiles back at you while holding her bottle of beer in one hand, "Is this your first bike meet?"

It appears that people can see how new everything is for you and you never feel so caught off guard. You let out a chuckle and nod, "Yeah, it is."

"Do you ride?" She asks in between her sips of beer.

"No, I'm still learning," you shyly answer.

The girl keeps on smiling so you reflexively smile back to her as you wipe your wet hand on your jeans from the condensation on the can of beer.

She suddenly holds her phone at you, "Can I have your numbers?"

That's when you start wondering if she's just being friendly or she's trying to ask you out. You're thinking it's the former so you you awkwardly take her phone, entering your phone numbers on it.

She takes it back from you and asks for your name, typing it as you tell her. She then shoves her phone into the back pocket of her jeans.

"What are you doing next Friday? Want to go for a ride?" She asks with a flirty smile and her hair gets caught between her glossy lips.

"A ride? With you?" You innocently ask just to confirm if she's asking you that.

"Yes."

It turns out that she's doing the latter after all and somehow, you feel flattered that she asked which makes you hesitate to reject her, but your boyfriend is about to get back from his test drive and that'll be a lot more explain.

"Uhm... I would love to," you answer and keep a smile on your face to soften the blow, "But I came here with my boyfriend so..."

You trail off but it's safe to assume that she'll understand what you meant by saying that. Her smile wavers a little but she remains warm and friendly.

"So should I delete your numbers or...?" She playfully asks.

"I mean, we can be friends," you respond with a low laugh.

She retracts her hand from the back pocket of her jeans and laughs, "I guess we can do that."

She then takes another sip of her beer and looks at you, "Guess I'll see you around," she says.

"See you around," you say back out of courtesy.

Not long after the girl leaves, Changbin returns from his test drive looking like he just came back from a date. You offer your beer to him and he doesn't hesitate to take a long gulp while you dab the sheen of sweat on his neck with the back of your hand.

"Was it fun?" You softly ask.

"It was thrilling," he answers with a grin and he feels like sharing his joy with you with a spontaneous peck on your lips.

Changbin puts his hands on your waist and pulls you close, placing a kiss on your lips once more, then lets go with a smile.

"I saw a food truck just around the corner. Want to take a quick bite?"

"Okay."

He excitedly talks about the test drive as he takes your hand and walks by your side. He helps you with your jacket and carrying it in one hand.

"Did I make you wait long?" He asks out of the blue.

"Not at all," you answer without a beat.

He smiles and brings your hand close to his mouth to kiss it. It's nice that all these bikes and bikers don't stop him from being affectionate towards you. However, you can't believe that you consider not telling him about the girl, not that you want to hide it, nothing happens so it feels unnecessary to share.

"You know, a girl just asked me out earlier," you blurt out.

Changbin stops on his track and looks at you in slight shock, "While I was away?"

"Yeah," you innocently answer with a nod, "she asked for my numbers and wanted to take me on a ride."

His eyes comically widened, "And what did you say?"

"I think what's crazy is I considered it for a moment," you admit with an embarrassed laugh.

He takes a step closer and grabs each side of your head, holding your head still as he stares into your eyes, "you didn't mention anything about me?"

"Obviously, I did, or else I'd be gone on that ride with her," you answer, half-laughing.

"Babe?!" He gives you an inexplicable look of worry and surprise.

"There's something on your face," you say, wiping something on his cheek and then rubbing your fingers together.

"Wait, is that jealousy?" You tease him.

Without warning, he pulls you hard until your body is pressed against him and he holds you tightly, "You have to stay close to me from now on," he says.

"No," you jokingly respond.

Displeased with your answer, he presses a kiss on your neck and you groan in complaint, "I'm sweaty. Stop!"

"I only left you for a few minutes and someone wanted to take you away from me," he says with a sigh, then he puts his arm around your waist to keep you close to his side as the two of you continue walking across the parking lot.

-

The bike meet is still going but Changbin decides to leave early since you both have a long way home. You leave as the day is about to get dark, stopping for dinner on the way and another quick stop at a gas station.

You stand on the side as Changbin stays on the bike, inserting the gas pump into the fuel tank of his bike.

"That should be me," you joke with a sly smile.

He flashes you his half-smirk and jacks the gas pump in and out of the fuel tank.

"Perv!" You jokingly remark.

"Hey! You started it!" He argues back.

The sky is bruised as the night is about to take over and the heat is being replaced by the cool night air, flapping the sleeves of your jacket as the bike speeds past cars on the highway.

"It's windy," you say, feeling the contrast change of temperature.

"Better not rain," he says.

"I hope not," you sigh as you look up at the sky and think that the sky is getting dark because it's going to rain soon.

Changbin lets go of his hand and feels the air in his hand, then says, "I feel a little water. I think it's going to rain."

The wind is getting stronger, you can feel it as how it hits the visor of your helmet and you feel the need to cling tighter onto Changbin's back.

"I feel like I'm going to fall off," you tell him.

"Hold on tight, babe," he says in concern, taking both of your hands and putting them around him.

"You're shivering," he says, hurriedly rubbing your forearm with his gloved hand to create heat.

Feeling mischievous, you glide one of your hands down to his crotch and cup the big bulge in his jeans.

"It's warmer here," you tell him while quietly giggling inside your helmet.

"Not here," he says, taking your hand and placing it on his tummy where he holds both your hands there so they don't wander around.

The change of weather doesn't make the ride less of what it is, another joyride with Changbin and you feel so content with how you spent the day together.

Even with the bike accelerates and rolls forward faster than before, you're not afraid because you trust Changbin and you know he'll keep you safe. All you need to do is hold on to him tighter.

"I like this," you mutter with contentment.

He glances to the back for a second, "Mmh?"

"I love being your backpack," you tell him.

Even though you can't see it through his helmet, you can tell that he's smiling. He holds his hand out to the back and you immediately take it, letting him lace his fingers with yours and together, you're riding through the day and into the night.

-

The rain gets to you both even though you're only a few blocks away from your apartment building, resulting in your clothes being drenched in rainwater.

The two of you run straight to the bathroom, stripping away the clothes that stuck to your skin in struggle, and put them right into the washing machine.

Once you're fully naked, you break into a run to your bedroom and jump onto the bed, getting under the cover to get warm.

"Scoot over!" Changbin demands as he climbs onto the bed, forcing you to halt on your snug to scoot to the side.

You immediately cling yourself to his side and tangle your legs with his. You're cuddling under the duvet to seek warmth from each other's body heat.

Changbin offers his arm as your pillow and that way, he can easily lean in and kiss your face. His lips feel wet and cold, but it feels like he's leaving searing kisses on your skin.

You slightly tilt your head up and capture his lips in a slow, tender kiss that melts your bodies together. You feel his hand getting under and—

"Oh, oh, cold," you sharply gasp against his lips as he places his hand on your stomach.

"Oh, sorry," he mutters, refraining from touching you and taking your hand instead, intertwining it together.

In contrast to his default look, Changbin looks so gentle as he rests his head on the pillow and softly gazes into your eyes, the kind of gaze that slowly makes its way into your heart.

"I had fun today," you tell him as you rub your lips on his knuckle.

"I had fun too," he says back while removing the hair covering your face.

"I think I'm just so happy when I'm with you," you honestly share.

Changbin softly smiles and presses a long peck on your lips, "I'm happy when I'm with you," he repeats your words back to you.

"Are you just going to keep repeating my words back to me?" You joke

"Yes," he shamelessly answers.

"Don't you feel glad that I called you cute that day?"

He lets out a chuckle, "I am more glad about the fact that you didn't run away with the girl who asked you out."

"Yeah, you should be," you say with a sly smile.

Changbin has only been dating you for three months now but it feels more meaningful and fulfilling than his past, year-long relationships. Maybe what people said is true, when you find the right one, it's just clicked.

The temperature is slowly rising as your body overlaps him and both of your lips are locked in a slow yet rapturous kiss. Changbin runs his hands all over you, feeling your miles and miles of soft skin with just his fingertips. His hands eventually found the ample flesh of your ass cheeks and knead on them until they mold into his hands.

Needing a breather, you pull away from the kiss and stay hovering above him. Changbin tucks your hair behind your ear and keeps his hand there to stop it from draping around your face.

You plant your hand against the mattress and then you cup his jaw while deeply staring into his eyes, making him feel more naked than he already is.

"Such a beautiful face," You murmur with adoration pooling in your eyes and your index finger touching his lower lip.

Tempted by his full lips, you press a quick kiss and let go to ask him a question that instantly arouses him.

"Can I ride?"

Changbin doesn't have to think, he'll do anything for you and that includes, letting you use his body for your pleasure. He stares back into your eyes and then he takes your hand to press a kiss on each finger.

"You can ride as long as you want," he finally answers.

The duvet slides down your body as you get up on the bed, positioning yourself on top of him and then slowly, lowering your crotch right on his mouth.

Changbin excessively licks his lips to wet them before he makes contact with your delicate flesh and keeps his mouth open until he feels your wetness on his tongue.

You hold on to the headboard of the bed for support and keep yourself steady, not wanting to accidentally put your whole weight on him and suffocate him.

"Oh, God... Yeah..." you moan as you feel his tongue lapping between your folds.

Despite you covering half of his face, Changbin seems to enjoy pleasing you with his mouth and his eyes are fluttering if not locked in an eye contact with you.

"Oh, my!" You gasp and then break into giggles as he sucks hard at your clit.

You look down and put your hand in his hair, tugging at it as you're watching his mouth deep in your wetness and his nose pressing on your clit.

"Oh, why are you so good, mmh?" You murmur with a flirty smile.

He snakes his arms under your thighs and squeezes the ample flesh of your ass while bringing you closer to him as he sticks his tongue into your gushing hole.

"Oh!" You gasp again, feeling his slick, hot tongue stretching your entrance.

With your hand gripping the headboard, you carefully unfold your leg and plant your foot against the mattress, that way, you can give him a little space to breathe.

You look down and see that the lower half of his face is glistening wet with your essence and you couldn't be more aroused seeing it.

Changbin slightly tilts his head to the side and opens his mouth wider. His hands glide up to your waist and force you to sit on his face again, ignoring the fact that he needs to breathe.

"Greedy baby," you mutter while bringing his hands to your breasts and kneading them together.

After a while, you decide that it's enough foreplay and slowly lift yourself so he can breathe. You crawl to the back, just enough to lower your lips on him and kiss his face while licking your essence that gets all over his mouth and chin, and eventually, both of your lips reunite in an enamoring kiss.

From his lips, you make a trail of kisses down his body and land a stripe of lick on his nipple before continuing to drag your lips on the ridges of his muscles.

When your lips arrive on his abdomen, you lift your head to look at him and flash him a wicked grin. His lips curl into his signature half smirk, knowing what's about to come him as you wrap your hand around his hardening member.

You tilt your head to the side and kiss his shaft, and another kiss on the tip, then slowly, you take him into your mouth.

It takes some time to finally be able to take all of him into your mouth and you compensate the rest you can't take with your hand, combining the two stimulations and moving in sync.

Changbin props his elbow against the mattress so he can watch you take his cock into your mouth.

"Love seeing those pretty lips around my cock," he murmurs while putting your hair away from covering your face.

You maintain eye contact with him as you suck his cock and bob your head between his legs, showing him how eager you are to please him.

"Are you trying to suck the life out of me, huh?" He playfully says as you suck his cock too hard.

You end up choking on air as you laugh with his cock deep in your mouth. You immediately pull away and gasp for air the moment his cock is out of your mouth.

When your eyes meet him, you crack a shy smile and crawl to him, not stopping until your lips crash against him.

"I want you so much," you openly admit.

He tenderly cups your jaw and sucks on your lower lip, playfully nibbling at it before letting it go with a playful smirk.

"No one is stopping you, baby," he mutters to you.

Changbin likes it when you're on top. He likes it more when he can just lay on his back and watch you fucking him good with your breasts jiggling along to the movements.

"How are you so good at this?" He asks, befuddled.

You don't say anything but shoot him a naughty smile. You toss all of your hair to the back and take his hands in yours, "Touch me, baby!"

There's no part of you that he doesn't like, your body is divine and you feel so soft all over that he can hear himself whimpering that he gets so overwhelmed by it. He holds you close and plants his head in between your soft mounds, getting himself intoxicated in your natural scent.

"I'm close, baby," you whine as you keep bouncing on his cock.

"Keep going!" He simply responds, holding you by the waist and ready to help you to get to your release.

"Oh, baby," you moan with your eyes screwed shut and gripping his shoulders with your nails dug into the flesh.

Oh, yeah, you don't even have to say it, he can feel you tightening around him and sucking him deeper, making him lose some self-control.

"It's okay. You can let go!" He tells you with a haste kiss on your jaw and neck.

You push yourself to keep moving and using the strength you have to keep going, your moans turn into cries as you get on the brink of climaxing.

"Yes, baby, let go," he encourages you with a hard kiss on your open mouth.

A raw moan falls out of your mouth as you reach your high and Changbin immediately catches you as you collapse into his arms, holding you close to fill your need for closeness.

"That's my girl," he whispers into your ear.

He places sweet, little kisses on your shoulder with his hand gently rubbing your back. He then slips his hand into the hair on the side of your head and holds your face as he presses a long kiss on your lips.

Changbin puts your hands around his shoulders and wraps his arms around you, then swiftly, he turns you over, having you pinned underneath him this time. He gives you a moment to relish your orgasm and gives you cuddles and kisses as you slowly gather your senses back.

"Put it back in, please?" You lowly mutter at him with your lips grazing his as you speak.

"Already?" He jokingly asks.

"Yes," you eagerly answer with a grin.

He presses his lips on you again with his hand squeezing the flesh on your waist. Without breaking the kiss, he positions himself between your legs and rubs his cock against your heating core, his tip teasing at your entrance.

You spread your legs wider and arch your back, getting impatient to be filled by him as you squirm under him.

"Want it that bad, mmh?"

"Yeah," you shamelessly answer with an eager nod.

It gives him a boost to know that he's the only one who can give you what you want and what is there to do than prove that he can give it to you right.

A few strokes on his length later, Changbin aims the tip into your entrance and he pushes it in by his hips. He's torn between looking at his cock slowly disappearing into you or the overwhelmed expression on your face, both are just as arousing.

"Ah..." you breathlessly moan and the pained expression on your face is replaced by a blissful one.

A second later, your eyes fluttered open, and instantly found his eyes looking at you. You run your hands up his arms and keep gliding them until they reunite on the nape of his neck, and then you pull him close for a kiss.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to your big cock," you mutter once you break the kiss.

"Then how you always take me so well?" He says with a soft smile.

Changbin wants this to last as long as possible and he's not just talking about the sex, it's the intimacy, the proximity, and how he becomes one with you, body and soul. He likes everything about this moment and if he could, he wants to stay in this moment forever.

"This is kind of romantic," you say as you hold his face with both hands.

"Why is that?" He asks while thrusting into you at a slow yet steady pace.

"It's raining, we're both naked, we're kissing, we're having a slow sex..." You list everything about the moment and place sweet little kisses on his lips in between words, "... no condom."

Instead of disrupting, laughter makes it more than just a mere physical thing, it's bonding and trust, it's you and him making love.

Changbin had his doubts but now, not anymore. He is certain about his feelings and he knows where he needs to take this relationship.

"I have an idea how to make it more romantic," he says with a cryptic smile.

"Yeah...?" You stare up at him in curiosity.

He takes a deep breath and exhales the words that he's been keeping in his chest for a while, "By saying I love you."

"Huh?" You seem to doubt that he's really going to do it.

"I love you," he says, steadfastly and with all of his heart.

There's a moment of silence and he believes you must have been taken aback by his sudden confession. The surprise in your eyes fades as your lips curve into a warm smile.

"Dang! I thought you were going to say something like let's cum together," you jokingly say with your fingers playing with the tendrils of hair on the nape of his neck.

"Well, we can do that too," he says, taking that as a challenge.

The faint sounds of the raindrops tapping against the window mixed with the skin-slapping sounds of his thrusts. Changbin keeps his pace steady but with added intensity to it, and he goes as shallow as possible in each thrust.

"Baby?" You desperately call his name between your moans.

He answers your call with a haste kiss, "Yes, baby?"

"I'm close," you tell him with your teeth faintly biting your lower lip.

"We're getting there, baby," he murmurs and rushes to kiss you again.

This is why Changbin likes making you cum first, he likes the way your walls are getting even tighter around him, and more importantly, he doesn't feel burdened to keep holding himself back.

He holds your legs by the back of your thighs and bends them until your knees meet your chest, then carefully, he plants his feet against the mattress. In this position, he can go deeper into you and you can watch his cock pumping in and out of you.

"You're so deep inside me, baby," you speak so low it's almost like a whisper but it's your wide eyes and heavy with lust that gets him off.

He deems it's time to quicken the pace, he adds more speed to his thrusting with his hands roughly pressing on the back of your legs.

"Oh, baby, oh..." The rest of your sentence is incoherent and you turn into a moaning mess under him.

Changbin can no longer think, he keeps going and pushing himself to the limit until he snaps, losing himself in immense pleasure, flying high in it and slowly, plunging his way into your arms.

The two of you holding each other as you're coming down from the high, bodies stacked on top of each other, hands intertwined, and lips found each other in a sensuous kiss.

"Bin?" You softly call his name with your hand endearingly holding the side of his face.

He gives your lips a quick peck and looks into your eyes, "Yes, baby?"

"I love you too," you say with fondness pooling in your eyes.

It would be a lie if he said that it didn't make his heart leap from hearing it but he needs to make sure that you didn't say it out of pressure.

He nuzzles his head in your neck and plants a hot kiss there, "You know you don't have to say it back to me," he softly mutters with another kiss on your jaw.

"But I want to. I love you too," you reply.

You said those three words again and the effect remains the same, hearing it for the second time makes his heart feel like it's about to jump out of his chest. He kisses you out of happiness and with his heart full of warm feelings.

"Dang! I thought you were going to say we have to go for another round," Changbin jokingly says as a way to poke fun at you.

You chuckle and bring his head close, catching him off guard, you playfully bite at his ear, then triumphantly giggling after.

Changbin yelps in pain and quickly rubs on it, he's getting back at you with a bite on your shoulder.

"Stop it!" You stop him by pushing his chest away from yours.

He pauses and looks at you, "You want to stop?"

"No," you shake your head at him, and with a sly smile you continue, "I want you to give me another ride."

Changbin stares back at your eyes filled with wild glints and he does nothing but hover above you, his face lingers only inches away from yours and you can see mischief flashes in his eyes, making your heart pitter patter inside your chest.

All of a sudden, he takes both of your hands and pins them above your head. With his lips curled into a wicked smile, he leans in closer and says, "Better hold on tight then cause it's going to be a bumpy ride."

-

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[adalindofcabinsix]

that kind of love never dies | chapter one

summary: the one where barbara thinks about an act of rebellion.

pairing: jake x mc

word count: 1.3K

warnings: tkolnd takes place after the events of episode 10; cover images found on pinterest; english is not my first language.

author’s note: even though she lives in the usa, my main character, barbara, is brazilian. i added terms and expressions that we use in our country, as well as cultural elements, to this fanfic. the words that appear in portuguese are highlighted and you can contact me if you have any questions.

masterlist

Barbara was sprawled out on the dorm carpet, reading a Lucy Maud Montgomery novel she found by chance in the university library, when her cell phone began vibrating on the nightstand. Without wasting time, she closed the book and got up, waiting to hear from her roommate, Meera, but, when Barbara swiped her finger across the lock screen, she found some text messages from an unknown number.

i would like to invite you again to eat something at that chinese restaurant

if you want to meet me, just show up there tomorrow

i'll be waiting for you :)

Her head started to throb just at the possibility of it being who she was imagining, but she quickly pushed the thought away.

Jake wouldn't put himself in danger like that.

After everything that happened in Grimrock, Duskwood's chief of police, Alan Bloomgate, personally went after her to conduct the interrogation, and, more than once, made it very clear that it was best for her to stay away from her new friends for a while. He didn't go into detail when he told her about what happened at the Ironsplinter Mine, but he confirmed that Richy was alive — despite having some serious injuries — and that Jake had fled from the FBI agents during the confusion caused by the explosion.

All the messages she sent and received during that time became evidence. Barbara had what it took to close Hannah Donfort's case literally in the palm of her hand, including the kidnapper's confession.

Consequently, she also had the means that could lead the people who were after Jake straight to him.

She was interrogated by the FBI countless times for months, until Alan decided to intervene and convinced her to hand over her cell phone to them in exchange for her old life. Since then, Barbara has not been part of the joint investigation. Or at least that's what they say — she's too smart to really believe that.

For a few seconds, she considered the chance that it was someone trying to play a trick on her. The video Lilly Donfort posted accusing her of kidnapping had gone viral across the Columbia University campus. Even her grandmother, who lived in the interior of Brazil, found out about her involvement with a hacker wanted by the North American government. However, no one else knew about the brief conversation they had about the chinese restaurant.

Except, of course, the FBI.

Without a doubt, it was a trap. Barbara felt her face turn red. It seemed that solving an old international murder case, giving up her privacy, being forced to abandon her group of friends and possibly cheating on the guy she was in love with was not enough. She also needed to act as bait when it was convenient.

Barbara huffed, irritated. Little did they know that Jake had no contact. Their partnership in crime had ended almost a year ago.

Still, there was no reason to decline the invitation. She could very well take advantage of the opportunity to tell some truths to those nosy agents, and as a bonus she would have an excuse to go to Germany without Alan being able to question her too openly.

Her lips lifted into a smile as the plan emerged in her mind.

After going through customs at Zurich Airport, picking up luggage and going to an exchange office to exchange some notes, only an hour and fifteen minutes by car separated Barbara from Duskwood. Luckily, there were several yellow taxis forming a line next to the sidewalk, because it would be a nightmare to have to deal with someone trying to compete for the same vehicle as her.

She walked out of the lounge, pulling her hot pink rolling suitcase, and turned on her smartphone to announce on the family's group chat that she had arrived safely. But before she could check her contact list to see if her parents were online, she collided with a young man's broad chest.

She jumped away from him, apologizing — or at least trying to — in german. He laughed softly, grabbing her arm to stop her from tripping over herself, and for a moment, Barbara forgot to even breathe. The young man seemed to be a few years older than her, he was tall, had dark hair and prominent round eyes that resembled the curve of a teardrop, he was wearing a white sweatshirt with a hood and black jeans.

“I'm sorry, I didn't see you.” He spoke in english, with a slight accent.

“No problem, it was my fault.” Barbara quickly straightened up, realizing that she had somehow stared too long.

The young man analyzed her from head to toe with amusement before bending down and picking up the cell phone that had flown out of her hand during the impact.

“I believe this is yours.” He joked, handing the device to her.

“Thank you.”

He nodded curtly and turned, making his way through the travelers entering and exiting the airport, as silent as a wraith.

She was inexplicably disappointed to see him leave, however she had more important things to deal with. Then, she handed the luggage to the driver to put in the trunk and got into the taxi, giving the address of the Gates Hotel, on the outskirts of Duskwood.

Barbara ran across the room, feeling the cold floor beneath her feet. She was considerably late, but as far as she remembered, she had never arrived on time to participate in the interrogations, so whoever was waiting for her at the restaurant wouldn't mind too much. She put on a black strapless dress, put on her highest heels and curled her wet hair with her fingers, leaving a small trail of water on the floor.

Through an opening in the peach curtains, she noticed that the rain had picked up outside, beating violently against the window pane. She cursed under her breath, hoping someone at the front desk could lend her an umbrella, and before Barbara could procrastinate her meeting with the FBI Special Agent any further, she took one last look at the floor mirror near the entrance hall, realizing that she was dressed for revenge.

“Someone would definitely approve of that.”

Smiling to herself, she went down a small flight of stairs to the ground floor, where the girl at the reception was reading a magazine with Nicholas Galitzine's photo on the cover.

“How can I help you?” She asked in english, without taking her eyes off the celebrity gossip.

“Hey, how you doin'? Could you lend me an umbrella, please?”

“Of course.” She said, reaching for the object under the counter and handing it to her. “A fee of two euros will be added to your room bill.” Barbara sighed, surprised, as she mentally converted the currency. “What?” The receptionist looked up, frowning. “Did you think it would be free?”

“No, obviously not.” Barbara lied, smiling politely.

“Return it by midnight or I will have to charge the full value of the item.” The girl announced, turning her attention to the magazine. Then she added: “Nice dress.”

“Okay, I'll pay when I check out.” She assured, walking towards the glass doors while opening her rented umbrella. “And thank you.”

“Have fun, Cinderella!”

Barbara regretted walking out the door as soon as she set foot on the sidewalk. Not just because of the rain, but because of the wind blowing your hair back. In any case, she had come too far to give up, and despite the storm, she could see the lights of the chinese restaurant through the blue haze a few meters ahead, on the other side of the street.

Before she could take another step, someone grabbed her arm and turned her around.

“What?” She blinked in amazement at the handsome young man she had met at the airport.

“Come with me.” He said, pulling her away from the hotel entrance.

“You are crazy? I do not know you!” Barbara shouted, dropping the umbrella near her feet. The rain completely drenched them both in moments. “Me solta!”

“Barbara, please.” He asked, breathing short.

The sadness in his voice stopped her struggling.

“How do you…?” She gasped, eyes wide. “Jake?”

taglist: @daniiiworlds; @labemquarts; @deinily

[fluentmoviequoter]

Home to My Family

Amazing idea from @avada-kedavra-bitch-187!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader

Summary: After you give birth to twins, they're taken by a nurse for checkups. You soon realize that she's not a nurse, so Tim calls in reinforcements to save your children and catch their abductor.

Warnings: child abduction, r just gave birth but story begins post-labor, angst, happy ending with fluff

Word Count: 1.7k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

“Congratulations,” the doctor says as your second baby is placed in your arms. “Two healthy babies.”

“They’re perfect,” you murmur, your eyes on the baby boy in your arms.

“A nurse will be in shortly to take them for full checkups,” someone informs you.

“How do you feel?” Tim asks.

You look away from your son and smile at the sight of Tim holding his daughter. She beat her brother into the world by nearly three minutes, and Tim has been enraptured with her since then.

“I’m okay,” you assure him. “We did good.”

Tim scoffs and lays his hand on your son’s back as he corrects, “We did great.”

“Hello, Bradfords,” a nurse greets with a knock on the open door. “I’m here to borrow these babies.”

You watch as Tim hands your daughter to the nurse to be placed in a bassinet before he turns to you to take your son. It makes you uncomfortable to hand them over so soon after giving birth, but the first checkup is necessary. Tim takes your hand and sits on the edge of your hospital bed to wait together.

“Did you call Angela?” you ask.

“Where are those pretty Bradford babies?” another nurse singsongs as she enters. “Checkup time!”

You furrow your brows, but Tim is on his feet before you can ask any questions. Tim is heartbreakingly familiar with the reality of evil in the world, and he realizes before you that something terrible has happened. As he races into the hall, fear settles over you as tears build in your eyes. If the real nurse is here now, who has your children? And where are they?

The nurse leaves to double-check that your babies weren’t transported by another nurse, and you’re left alone. After several minutes alone, scared, Tim returns and shakes his head. His jaw is clenched tightly, but you can tell he’s only a moment from breaking.

“I reported it to the department,” Tim says, his voice tight. “Angela’s on the way and I let her know too.”

You nod before you sit up carefully, wincing in pain as you swing your legs over the edge of the bed.

“Hey, hey, no,” Tim murmurs, rounding the foot of the bed. He lowers before you and lays his hands over your thighs. “You just gave birth; you need to rest.”

“I need to find them, Tim. We have to find them!” you exclaim through your cries.

“I know. We will, I promise we will.”

“But you don’t need my help.”

Tim smiles at your attitude, understandable anger building beneath your pain, fear, and tiredness.

“Your help isn’t the issue, it’s your health.”

“Timothy,” Angela greets. She walks to your side and hugs you tightly. “Tell me everything.”

You lie back carefully as Tim recounts the events of the past few minutes. Angela nods along, then looks around your room.

“They’re still in the hospital, I’d bet,” Tim concludes.

“Grey stationed officers at every opening to keep it that way,” Angela responds. “There’s plenty of hiding places in a hospital. But Tim…”

“I don’t know,” he answers. “I have no idea who would do this. I’ve put plenty of people away, called CPS hundreds of times, any of those people could have decided to return the favor.”

Lucy and Nolan knock on the open door, and Tim waves them in as Angela draws a diagram of the hospital on the whiteboard opposite you. Lucy walks directly to your side while Nolan stands beside the door to watch the hallway.

“What do you need?” Lucy asks softly.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. “Other than the obvious.”

“We’re going to find them. Half of the station is here for you.”

“There’s only one option that finishes this quickly,” Angela decides. “We split up and search every floor of this hospital.”

Tim looks to you rather than answering, and you promise, “I’m okay to be alone. I trust you, all of you, to find them and bring them back to me. Do whatever you have to do.”

“We will,” Tim promises. “Nolan, stay here, keep an eye on this hallway. Lucy, you’re with me.”

Lucy squeezes your hand kindly before she walks to Tim’s side. Nolan steps out of your room with them and closes the door. Completely alone, all you can do is wait.

“Hey,” Tim calls urgently. A male nurse spins and raises his hands in question. “Have you seen a nurse in pink scrubs with twins?”

“There’s lots of nurses, pink scrubs, and twins here, sir,” the man answers.

Tim takes a measured step toward him, and the man steps back urgently, bumping into the desk behind him.

“Do you want to be charged with aiding and abetting a kidnapping?”

“Sir, if you’ve seen a woman in pink scrubs with two bassinets, you need to tell us now,” Angela interjects.

“I haven’t,” he answers quickly. “I swear I haven’t.”

Tim steps away from the scared nurse and sighs.

“This floor is clear, no sign of them,” Angela reports.

Tim’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and he retrieves it without looking away from the empty hallway.

“I remember when I wasn’t allowed to look at my phone on duty,” Lucy muses.

“Your children hadn’t been abducted,” Tim snaps. He reads a message, furrows his brows, and then says, “Angela.”

Angela knows that Tim using her first name isn’t a good sign, and she's proven right when he passes his phone over. “Where is this?”

“I can’t tell. The message seems familiar,” Tim replies.

Angela zooms in on the picture while Tim repeats the message to himself. Lucy moves beside Angela and looks at the picture, pointing to any discernable items in the background. The image shows your son in the bassinet front and center, and while it’s clear that they’re still in the sterile, white hospital, it’s unclear where.

“Supply closet,” Angela realizes just as Tim says, “Keiran Tumble.”

“The counterfeiter?” Lucy asks. “What’s his problem with you?”

“I arrested him, but I’m also why he lost visitation rights for his kids. They were in the warehouse with the printing fumes. He hasn’t been out of prison long.”

“Prison for counterfeiting?”

“Federal prison. The Reserve pressed additional charges. When he got out, he got served with the papers about his kids.”

“Wait,” Angela interrupts. “You said it was a female nurse.”

“Keiran’s girlfriend,” Tim guesses. “I didn’t see her, she wasn’t there when we raided his operation, but I’ve heard plenty about her.”

“Me too. Tim, she’s suspected of at least three murders. This isn’t a manhunt; we have to find her without risking your kids.”

“ Supply closet?” Tim repeats. “Let’s find the right one, and then we move in. She makes one move toward them, and you drop her.”

“Tim, maybe you should sit this one out,” Lucy suggests.

“No,” Angela answers. “If this were Jack, I’d want to be right there when we found him. Look that monster in the face and remind her that at the end of every day, I go home to my family.”

“I’m more use here, Chen,” Tim assures. “How’s Nolan?”

“He said everything’s clear there. Only a few nurses through since we left.”

Tim nods, but Angela purses her lips in thought.

“What?” Tim inquires.

“Isn’t your room across from a supply area? Wouldn’t someone have needed something by now?” she asks.

“No one saw them because they didn’t go far,” Lucy realizes.

“Let’s go!” Angela exclaims.

Fiddling with the blanket over your legs, you think about what you will do when you get your babies back. Kiss them, apologize even though they won’t know what’s happening, and then beg Tim to take you home. You refuse to think about any alternative.

“Yep,” Nolan says on the other side of your door. “All clear here, too. Good luck.”

“C’mon, Tim,” you whisper.

You trust him more than anything, but right now, your fear threatens to override all of your rational thoughts.

Suddenly, a single gunshot sounds. Immediately after, you hear screams and loud promises that everything is alright and everyone is safe. You, however, refuse to believe it until you see your husband and children. Frozen in uncertainty and fear, you count your shallow breaths rather than running through possible scenarios.

Two firm knocks on your door are followed by Nolan smiling as he holds the door open. Tim steps in with both of your babies cradled in his arms and a relieved look. You release a shaky breath, then smile as tears roll over your cheeks.

“It’s over,” Angela promises as she hugs you. “We got her.”

Tim walks to the other side of your bed and carefully lowers the twins to your chest. They coo softly in their sleep, none the wiser about what they’ve been through. Holding them against you, you kiss their heads and whisper that you love them.

“Do you know what you need now?” Lucy asks.

“Get me out of here,” you beg, smiling.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she answers, leading Nolan out of the room.

“What happened?” you ask Tim.

“Do you remember Keiran Tumble?” You nod, and he places his arm around your shoulders as he continues, “He got out, mad about his arrest and losing his kids, and sent his girlfriend to make me feel some of the same pain. Or that’s the working theory.”

“It’s right,” Angela adds. “Only a criminal would be that stupid.”

"So, Nolan radioed an all-clear, got her guard down, and we went in. She shouldn't be out for a very long time."

You lay your head against Tim’s shoulder and say, “I love you.”

“Aw, I love you, too!” Angela jokes.

“If you weren’t our first choice for godmother, I’d kick you out,” Tim tells her.

“You love me.”

“Thank you,” you interject. “I’m glad you’re both here.”

“I’m going to go fill in Grey and then make sure your house is ready for an early return,” Angela says as she steps toward the door. “Need anything else?”

“You’ve done more than I can ever thank you for,” you answer. “I’ll call you later.”

“Like she won’t still be at the house when we get home,” Tim mumbles.

“Hey, I filled up your freezer with comfort food, be nice to me, Timothy.”

Alone with your babies, you smile as Tim extends his finger to your slowly waking son. You’ll never get tired of being with them, and there’s no one else you’d rather have by your side than Tim Bradford.

[wosoragebaiter69]

you are broken on the floor

alexia putellas x keeper!reader

overview: goalkeeping means sacrificing your body, how far would you go?

A/N: i feel rlly sad so i got the discord to come up with ideas (thanks @totaly-obsessed + @alotofpockets)

TW: Blood, Severe Injury, Brutal Angst

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

Ever since a child, you loved the feeling of saving footballs. If any of the teams you were on needed someone in goals you'd be the first the volunteer, along the way you actually got good at it and eventually signed with Barcelona in 2021, making good friends along the way.

Along with joining Barça, it came with getting a girlfriend. Who was the best person you'd ever had in your life romantically.

Being a keeper in the best club would always mean injuries, trying to keep a clean sheet like any defensive player wants.

Sometimes though, injuries are worse. Life threatening in some cases, career ending in others. It's something no player even wishes upon their most rivalled team.

You just had to be unlucky didn't you?

Barcelona were comfortably winning against Frankfurt 3-0, when a gap in defense allows a German player to make their strike. You fall back onto the line hoping the punch the ball away.

Seems like life has other plans.

The player shoots left, you dive left and push the ball away. However with being airborne, you can’t stop. Your body crashes into the post with a loud thud.

The stadium goes quiet, your screams and cries horrific. Your body looks… wrong.

Your collarbone isn’t straight, it’s indescribable. Bones are poking out. There’s blood running down your face where your head has cracked open after hitting the post.

It’s sickening to watch.

Players immediately rush over, forming a circle around you as to not show a fellow player in such vulnerable state.

Alexia is by your side trying to comfort you, trying to keep you still. Seeing you in this much pain makes her heart ache. If she could take it all, she would.

Paramedics are by your side instantly as the circle of players back up to give them space to work, Alexia sits helplessly watching you worm in pain.

After quick testing to make sure you were still alive and conscious, they get you on the stretcher. Which includes more screaming, and more pain.

Alexia watches as you get taken off the field in a hurry, fans of both teams clap and give you a standing ovation.

“Alexia, she’s strong. Let’s finish and win this game for her yeah?” Mapi pats her best friends back, also devastated at the turn on events.

“Ye- yeah.” The captains broken voice says.

- - - - -

As the rest of the minutes in the game are being played, you’re fighting for your life in the back of an ambulance.

The pain getting unbearable, you find yourself slowly slipping in and out of consciousness. Paramedics are doing things around you, but your eyes are too glossy to really tell. Your mind is also too fuzzy to think straight.

There is one thing you want, Ale. But, with everything? You wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve ruined some of your vocal cords from screaming so loud.

Soon enough, you succumb to the darkness. Letting it engulf you to a place less ridden in pain and chaos.

- - - - -

The game is over, an unspoken heaviness in the air surrounding both teams. There is little interaction with fans, whom luckily understand the pain the players must be feeling at the time.

Alexia, Mapi and Ingrid get in the Norwegian’s car and drive straight to the hospital where the medical team said you were going to.

When arriving, Ingrid drops Alexia and Mapi before parking, understanding they need each other. You were important to everyone, but Mapi was like your sister and Ale was obviously your girlfriend.

They rush inside, talking quickly to the nurse at reception who gives them sorry smiles, updating them all that she could. Which was that you were alive and in emergency surgery.

They don’t argue, it’s pointless. So they sit down on uncomfortable plastic chairs, playing a waiting game until you were coherent and safe.

- - - - -

4 hours and many freak out sessions later, a doctor walks over to the three girls explaining the situation you’re in.

“It’s a grade 2 concussion to her head, in cases like these there is chance for memory loss. I believe she has all her memory, we were talking about different things before I came here. It’s a high possibility that she has no memories from the accident though.” He pauses before continuing.

“She experienced a dislocated collarbone. We’ve put it back in its original place, recovery could take 1 year and she might never be to the level she was at currently again. We had to do work on surrounding ligaments which makes the recovery time longer.” The girls take in the information.

“Have you told her she won’t play for a while?” Ingrid asks the question on everyone’s mind.

“I did, she was upset in her own right. If that is all your questions, she has her own room. I believe you all know concussion protocol?” They nod.

“Ok, room 3146. If you need anything at all just shout.”

“Gracias, for everything you’ve done.” The doctor smiles at Alexia.

“No problem.”

- - - - -

When reaching the room, the 3 Barça players see your state, a gauze wrapped around your head and a large cast across your torso, restricting movement.

“Amor?” Alexia asks cautiously.

“Hi Ale.” You look at the other two. “Mapi, Ingrid, nice to see you.”

Alexia sits by the chair on the side of your bed, looking up with teary eyes.

“Please, please don’t ever do that again.” She sobs, cradling your face softly. “I can’t- I can’t lose you.”

“Ale, you’ve got me. I’m right here, please don’t cry amor. Por favor.” You look over to the other two in the room, smiling softly.

She takes a couple minutes to settle down and finally talk.

“Have you heard about your recovery?”

“Sí” You watch her sigh, tracing patterns over your hand.

“Lo siento, but I’ll be with you the whole way ok? I promise.” She says without an inch of hesitation in her voice.

“Te amo mucho Ale. That means so much more than you could ever know.” She responds by leaving a lingering kiss against your hand.

“I’m glad you’re ok. Had as all worried.” Ingrid smiles lightly.

“Yeah.. I don’t remember much about what happened. I might later on but for now I’m content without the memories.” She laughs.

“Well, all of the culers and people at Barça wish you a safe and great recovery. Even if the doctor hasn’t said it, you’ll come back stronger I know it.”

“Thanks Maps, I think I stay in the hospital for a few more days then I’m clear to go home. I have to wear this for like 6 weeks then start the strengthening physio whatever.”

“Ah, can’t wait to see you on the pitch again then amiga. Well, Ingrid and I will leave you and Ale to talk on your own. If you ever need funny company instead of serious company I am always here.” You hold onto your laugh smirking.

“Alright León, keep it moving.” You joke back and watch the couple leave.

You think back to what recovery is going to be like. A very long journey. It seems your girlfriend notices your thoughts.

“Shh, you’ll be fine and as Mapi said you’ll come back better.”

“Thanks Ale.” She leans over and presses a kiss to your lips softly.

- - - - -

The next few weeks are tough, you feel as though you’re useless. Alexia has all this stuff on her plate already and you’re just another one. However she is always quick to shut those thoughts down. No matter how moody, or how angry you got at her. She stayed, just like she promised she would.

Who knows what the future holds, maybe something, maybe nothing. What does matter though? Is who you go there with. For you it’s Ale. It will always be Alexia.

—————————————————————————

PART 2 - here

also i did say i was sick now i’m feeling better.. physically (not mentally since i just wrote this fic)

[gxbbyhoneybadger]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write a Predator x reader?

Leads to smut (0u0")

Where he breaks into he readers house/apartment for safety, he looks around and his heat sensors pick up the readers body heat.. He notices she's mostly defenseless but searchers her for weapons.. in the process he's touching her everywhere then leaves. he comes back a few nights later to see her and then BOOM SMUTTY SMUT!

This. . . This is just amazing! Ofc, and enjoy the treat. I'm gonna use Scar boy from AvP, he's my favorite Yautja out of them all heheheh. This is also my first monster/predator smut so. . . Please do be gentle with the comments if u don't approve 🥹

A/n: the Yautjas can roughly speak human languages, I'm using this from the end scene of Predator (1987) movie. I'll give them a reason to speak as well, don't worry. There's a plot for that lol.

Mission XXXIV-XXXV

Pairing: !Yautja!Scar x !F!Shy!Reader

Summary: After making an escape from the Alien Queen, Scar manages to hide away within an empty home—not knowing who was still there and wide awake. After finding and searching the shy human to make sure that she was no threat, she was rather aroused by the strange creature's lingering touches. When he leaves, he can't get the woman out of his mind, causing the Yautja to run back to where she was just a few nights later to finish what he had unintentionally started.

Warnings: Blood and gore, death, adult language, eventual smut, gentle sex (Scar a horny mf but he's a gentle giant imo), size kink, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before ya tap it folks), fluff, anonymous ending.

Part 2

Minors DNI 🔞 18 below the cut

--

Many things happen for a reason, times of events line up for destruction or something wonderful. Not right now apparently, not for Scar. This was destruction, he wiped out the rampant Xenomorph younglings, now the Queen was left. She was raging with fury as she searched for the few Yautjas who were hiding and planning their ways to kill the unforgiving creature.

Scar was wounded—bleeding out the neon green substance from his left shoulder. He shouldn't have let his guard down, he could've spotted that one Xenomorph that leapt at him. At least he made it out alive, he'll make it back to his planet soon. He entered a home, it was dark but he used his mask to read the room. Everything was clear, before he saw the acidic burn on a book that fell onto the floor from the fallen bookshelf.

His guard was already on high alert, his weapon at hand as he slowly approached a broken door where he saw a tail of a Xenomorph lying lifeless. It was already dead, he scanned the room once more, this time using the heat sensor built within his mask. He caught the glowing body within the dark kitchen, the lights flickered on by her trembling hand. She seemed to stunned to even react by the giant watching her, her clothes were disheveled, a few cuts on her arms but not too much damage.

She didn't move from her place, still taking in who this was. "You're one of them. . ." She muttered before her eyes moved to the side. Scar followed her gaze and saw one of his fallen brothers dead in the corner, impaled through the chest most likely from the Xenomorph itself. His neon green blood coated his stilled chest and the ground beneath him.

". . . I didn't know. . . what to do. . . he tried to. . ." She whispered. Scar looked at the dead alien next, seeing that it's head and neck was severely wounded by one of the Yautjas weapons: A Wrist Scythe.

He looked to her and saw the weapon around her arm that she must've taken from the corpse to defend herself from the Xenomorph. "I-I'm s-so sorry. . ." She mumbled. His mandibles clicked as he lifted his hand and held out his index fingers, slowly circling his wrist—telling her to turn around. She read his silent command and turned around, dropping the Wrist Scythe she held behind her back as she rested her hands against the wall.

Scar scanned her body, reading the wounds she sustained as his large claws grazed over her smaller arms. His entire hand could wrap around her neck if he dare harmed her, but he was simply checking for any hidden weapons she may have carried. Gently letting his hands lower down from the sides of her breasts to her waist and hips, his large hands then clasped over her left thigh. The bridge between his thumb and index finger softly brushed against her sensitive nether regions.

She silently scolded herself to stop thinking about such disgusting thoughts, she didn't even know what this thing was or what was happening. Y/n was a shy person, not really out there in the dating or hookup life. But her thoughts were rather intrusive about this strange being that was touching her.

She felt her face heat up from the unintentional touch, he moved on and checked her other thigh—again, touching her nether regions. Palming around her calf before he stood back up and towered over her frame, his shadow completely swallowed her own. His large mitt held her left shoulder and turned her to face him. She followed his movement and let him scan her body.

He read her vitals and smelled something. . . Something rare for any Yautja to smell from a human, her very own arousal, her vitals showed that her heart was beating erratically, a sign of nervousness while her body heat rose significantly, her pupils widened as she looked away from him. She was healthy and stable, but aroused and nervous around him. Scar stepped back and looked at the fallen Yautja, Y/n slowly slid down the wall and sighed.

". . . Um. . . I. . . I'm Y/n. . . Not that, you'd need to know. . . or anything. . ." She said, Scar looked down at her, his dreadlocks hanging over his shoulders as he tilted his head. His mask translating her words into his own language, his understanding of the human languages and different types were vaguely known to his species. Only a rare few of Yautja elders knew the humans entire lot of languages by memory, no mask needed for translation.

Scar was learning bit by bit each day he spends on earth hunting down worthy opponents, and Bad Bloods. "You're hurt. . ." Her shying voice said, bringing Scar's attention back to her, "Your shoulder is bleeding. . . are. . . are you okay?"

Clicking his mandibles again, he grabbed the items he needed and started to clean his wound and patch it up. Y/n grunted as she stood up and wandered towards the dead Xenomorph, she watched it, lightly kicking it's leg to see if it really was dead. . . which it was.

After he finished patching his injury when he saw Y/n standing by the body. It twitched just a little bit caused her to jump back and squeak with fear, making Scar's mandibles click in a chuckling way at her reaction. She growled and kicked the body before looking at Scar who was checking outside for any sign of the Queen nearby. The coast was clear and he turned to pick up his fallen brother's body.

"W-Wait!" She gasped when he walked out of the door, he paused in his step and glanced at her as she stumbled out of her house while watching him with a tiny glimmer of appreciation. ". . . D-Do you have a name?" She asked him.

Scar didn't say or do anything as a response, he looked away and continued to walk away, leaving the girl alone.

~Three Days Later~

He couldn't stop thinking about her voice, her eyes, the shy voice and her smell. He refused to go back to her for three days, for those three days he still couldn't stop thinking about her. Her bravery to take on a Xenomorph, one that even a Yautja couldn't defeat.

His species never mated for life, they simply procreated to reproduce for their species. To grow more warriors for more hunts, their mating wasn't loving either. The females were known to be rough and quite deadly with the males, just making it out alive and injured was considered lucky after their mating.

But after that, they'd go their separate ways. Mating with others and every four hundred days, they'd all mate again for reproduction. But here was a Yautja, searching for the same female he had ran into by accident, a female who wasn't even a part of his species, no, of course, she was human. A species that was noteworthy of being their opponents to hunt and kill, perhaps even ally with.

But something. . . Something shined from this human, and it wasn't because of the thermal scan. This human, this female human of the human race killed a Xenomorph when one of his kind failed to do so. She wasn't a regular human, she was a warrior.

Scar quietly remained perched up in a tree as his scanners searched her house. The damaged parts of the house were cleaned up and repaired over the days, the light in her bedroom was the only thing on. There he saw her exit the restroom, wearing nothing but a towel around her body as she brushed through her semi-dried hair. She seemed low and lonely as she sat on her bed, not even hearing the camouflaged Predator entering her home.

~Y/n pov~

I turned and looked at my folded clothes to wear; it's been three days, whoever that creature was isn't coming back. I already know that's the truth, but it's so hard to accept. For those three days, I couldn't stop thinking about him. Those large hands, the claws, those dreadlocks and his large abs lining his abdomen. Fishnets on his legs, his large build, his tall height.

He couldn't be just six feet, he had to be close to seven at least. I felt stupid when I remembered how I touched myself last night, thinking about him in such erotic ways. I don't even know what he was or who he was, and yet there I was—finger fucking myself over him.

He didn't even answer me or anything, I don't even know if he had a name. I was more pissed off at myself as I stood to grab my clothes, I opened my shirt and sighed as I turned around. Gasping as I dropped the piece of clothing when my eyes landed on the behemoth in front of me. Him. . . It was him! He was here. . .

He was back. . . But. . . why? Shit, what is he going to do? Kill me? Finish whatever job he had to be here? He stepped forward and I couldn't move, I was either scared or really brave to face this giant. . . I highly doubt that I was brave, I was just petrified. I saw him raise his hand at me, was he going to strangle me? Break my neck? I closed my eyes and accepted my fate, maybe he'll make it quick.

But that anticipation was for nothing, I slightly gasped when his claw dragged against my cheekbone. I opened my eyes to see his fingers gentle caressing my skin with care, it really showed me how truly big he was. His hand could cover my entire face, I looked up at his metal covered mask, those dreadlocks were out of this world. Hesitance drowned my confidence as I lifted my hand towards him, slowly and steadily.

He didn't move or growl, that was a good sign. . . right?

I let the tip of my index finger brush one of his dreadlocks, he seemed to have shuddered from the contact. I moved my hand—thinking I did something to cause him discomfort, but that was debunked when his hand held my much smaller wrist. He brought it up to encircle one of his dreadlocks, it felt smooth, rubbery almost, fake to the touch. But it was real nonetheless.

"Y-You're back. . . Why did you come back?" I asked him with a stutter lining my words. I heard the familiar clicking come from behind his mask, I didn't understand what he was saying but I saw his hand lift towards the tubes connected to the side of his mask before pulling them out. A hiss of air was heard when his hand lifted the disguise.

I didn't know what to think when I saw his face, those large mandibles, sharp pointed teeth, sharp and deadly eyes. Never in my life have I seen a creature like him, this was an extraterrestrial level. Forget E.T, this guy definitely takes the cake. I lifted my hand and grazed my finger over his lower jaw mandibles, they clicked and spread open to reveal his teeth within.

I couldn't stop looking at him, but when I did I glanced at the towel I was wearing. My heart rate picked up as I argued back in forth in my head. What if this is truly the last time I ever see him? He'll be gone, what if he forgets about me? This is my only chance, I've never done this before, but this'll be one hell of a first time story for anyone to hear.

I closed my eyes and gulped before bringing my hand towards my towel, I looked back at the creature before pulling the cloth loose—feeling it fall down to my ankles and the cool air breeze across my bare breasts. I shuddered as the coolness, but kept my eyes on his. His clicking grew to a low growl, almost like a warning sign.

Did I read the signs wrong-? oh fuck! I can't even get a regular guy and here I am, not even getting a damn alien or whatever he was to—"Bee-U-Tiff-all. . ." His semi-audible voice growled out. I gasped at the wonder of his voice, it sounded like he tried to put the words together correctly, but with struggle of course. I grew a light smile as I placed my hand on his chest.

"I don't know. . . if you can understand what I'm saying but: you. . . are the most amazing thing I've ever seen walk the earth. . ." I said to him. His large calloused hand slithered up my arm and towards my neck, his thumb gently pushed my chin to look up at him. His large head tilted to the side as he used his unintelligible clicking to communicate to me.

"I don't understand what you're saying. . . But if you mean. . ." I glanced at my bed then back at him, I took his hand and led him near it before I let him go, crawling backwards on the bed and watched him, "If I'm misinterpreting whatever you're trying to say. . . Then I'm sorry. . . But if I'm right. . . Then can you. . . be gentle? I-I've never. . . did this." I mumbled awkwardly.

He seemed to have understood that rather quickly when he held my ankle and lifted it, like he was examining my skin before he rested his knee on the bed. Pulling me closer and spreading my legs, I whimpered at my exposed place. He's ten times my size, yet he's being gentle as he could be. Maybe this will feel good like my friends say.

~~~

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Not good! Oh fuck! I was laying on my stomach, my ass was perched up and this thing was hovering over my back while his unnatural massive cock was prodding at my unexplored entrance. His hands were locked on my waist as he rubbed himself against me, I mewled from the sensation, it was some sort of friction for me.

He was so big, I was terrified on how he'll even make it fit inside of me. I'll barely get the tip in alone! Without warning me, he turned me over on my back again and knelt on the ground. He held my thighs open before letting his forked tongue run over my clit—there I gasped as I clenched the bedsheets.

"Ah!" I moaned, it was a strange feeling, but it felt good. I heard his growling rumbling within his chest as his hands squeezed my thighs. I wanted to touch him, but I wasn't sure of what he was comfortable with so I kept my hands to myself. I felt his mandibles slightly dif into my pelvic area as his lower ones cupped the backs of my rear, his tongue then slithered inside of my glistening petals and through my cunt.

My legs started to shake when his tongue flickered over my clit as he started to tease my labia. I felt my sweat beginning to form over my chest and forehead, I started to feel the tightening string building inside of me. He fully plunged his tongue deeper inside of me and struck the cord—my back lifting off the bed as I bit my hand to not moan out loud. With trembling legs and the flash of white blurring my vision, I didn't even see or feel him turn me back over on my stomach.

But I did feel that initial sting when his cock pushed into me, I used my pillow to squeal into as he added more pressure. Slowly but surely breaking through my hymen, my tears started to sting my eyes as his hands pushed down my shoulder—making my chest lay flat on the bed as I endured it.

His cock was large, too large, it filled me up as he started to slowly thrust, each thrust made his length dig deeper inside of me. I choked on my whimper as he slammed against my cervix, "FUCK!" I screamed out. He remained still and lowly purred beside my head, not moving and letting me adjust to the sheer size of him. My knuckles turned white as I clenched the sheets, I whined when he slightly moved. He was growling while letting his hands touch my body, I felt his dreadlocks drag across my skin.

After a minute or so, he slowly pulled back and pushed forward. Filling me again, he surely reached the deepest parts of me. Mewls and gasps came from me as he continued with his slow motions, rolling his hips into me and growling, letting out snarls and purrs as he clenched my hips—his claws digging into my skin to resist the urge to go faster. I appreciated the thought, but was terrified if he did let loose on me.

"Ah, Ngh! K-keep goi-NG!" I moaned while hugging my pillow with tears. I felt my sweat beginning to coat my forehead and my back, I felt him lower down and lick the shell of my ear with his forked tongue. A whimper flowed from my lips when he picked up the pace just a bit, I could feel his balls hitting my clit just right. They were so big slapping against me; I choked on my air when he pulled me up on his chest.

He hugged my waist and started to thrust into me again, I reached towards one of his locks and brought it to my lips to kiss. He roared and started to grope my breasts while thrusting quicker, each thrust was heavy and deep. His scale like arms held me tight, his claws tracing over my nipples as his mandibles clicked right next to my ear.

My body felt like it was going to split in half from his cock, I was shocked by my moaning and my begging for more of him. I held his arm while I shut my eyes to enjoy this overriding pleasure, my orgasm was approaching as he continued to grind against me. He laid me down again and snarled—digging his nails into my flesh as he restrained himself, I bit the pillow and squealed when the ball tightening within me snapped.

My back arched as I pushed against him, moaning as I felt my desire squirt out of me. That white bliss glossed over my vision, leaving small black dots to see as he continued to grind against me. He didn't stop, his thrusting grew more intense as he clawed at the sheets to avoid harming me—I covered my ears when he roared out. Then gasping when he finished inside of me.

It felt warm, and thick—I could feel his thick desire coating the walls of my uterus and filling my cunt to the brim. His dreadlocks were dragging over my shoulders as he slowly got up from me, I winced feeling him pull out from me. I felt his cum leaking out of me. I felt so tired, drained of all my energy.

His arms gently turned me over, my eyes felt droopy, they started to close when I felt him cover me with a blanket and pick me up before his deep voice growled out, "Sc—aar."

Unaware of where he was taking me. I don't know how long I was out but I was still sleeping. Until I heard more clicking and snarls from other creatures near me.

_____________________________________

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[lbxbx]

Blackmail | KTH

Pairing: Idol!taehyung x reader

Genre: smut, angst. Five shot

Synopsis: being part of their staff meant you had to be around them all the time, Taehyung has a checklist of all the girls he slept with and filmed and you were next on the list, as he lures you using several ways one of them being actually showing you the content he films, before you finally give in and he actually films you to tick you off of his list. Little do you know it’s the biggest mistake ever.

Disclaimer: events and incidents in this fiction are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. This does not resemble Taehyung’s character whatsoever.

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“He’s probably late over something stupid.” One of the hairstylists huffs blowing her fringe off of her face.

Nothing new really, you’re so sick of hearing her whine all the time, as if she’s not aware of how hectic the schedule is especially during their tour, not only the schedule is all over the place, they usually get sick and exhausted during this time so they do deserve to rest for an hour longer at least.

Of course you rolled your eyes and sometimes you would actually leave the entire room the second she starts whining and radiating negative energy to the entire staff, once she starts nagging, the energy shifts right away since over half of the staff don’t like her.

You were able to manage though and got used to it since you’ve been working with her for a couple years now, you figured out a way to reduce your chances of a headache. The moment she starts whining you take your airpods out of your pocket and put them on, blasting the music really high up and totally caring less if you couldn’t hear people around you.

Your job was quite sensitive, it took you years to get to where you are right now, you had to be there all the time whether it was broadcasts, practice or even listening parties or stupid birthday parties, you were always there with them.

And being with them for a few years now made you all really close, you understand their characters very well and it’s nothing like what people see on TV or their phone screens, they’re still human after all, and most importantly, they’re still men.

It’s four in the afternoon and time is ticking, the concert is supposed to be started by 9 in the evening and they’re still not here, and there was still a sound check and practice that had to be done first, you were really behind on schedule. You see the girls standing up at the same time which makes you lower down the music.

You hear footsteps coming from the end of the aisle and the staff are all on standby which means that they’re finally here, you take your spot near your station and put your airpods back in their case ready to start on Taehyung’s face.

Your work suited his face the best, of course you’d work on everyone’s face if they needed you to cover for someone, but you were really skilled and your talent suited his features the most. You’ve been working on Taehyung for a couple months now.

 He gets into the room and yanks his top off, a view you’re used to the entire time whether it was him or any of them, he throws himself onto the chair and looks at you once before looking at his reflection in the mirror. “How are you?” A forced smile lingers on his face.

“Good, how are you?” You smile under your face mask, he nods his head. “Sleep deprived, but I should make it.”

“Fingers crossed.” You cross your own fingers and put a headband around his head to get his hair off of his face, he’s growing his hair really tall that he’s tying it in a man bun most of the time. “I know what you’re thinking, and I’m not planning to cut it off.”

He’s smarter than what people think, you giggle and nod. “I think it looks good on you.” You finally pump some primer onto your hand and start dabbing it onto the skin of his face.

You know people envy you for your job, and in fact you’re really happy with it because it pays really well along with other privileges. Their fans probably envy you the most and you know they look really good but you’re not attracted to any of them in any possible way. You spent so much time with them that they feel like colleagues.

After all, you and them work for the same company.

He takes his phone out and dims the brightness as he starts rapidly texting someone, his leg anxiously moving up and down, you’re used to that too, he must be nervous or tired.

It was peak summer and the weather was suffocating, the humidity and the heat together forced everyone to either wear less clothes or constantly keep the air conditioners turned on, but in your case you had to chose both because you cannot stand the heat, and you get really embarrassed if you got sweaty.

And honestly your top was driving you insane, it was really lose that it kept going down your shoulder, and whenever you would move to grab a brush or anything, it would slip down your shoulder and reveal your bra straps, you can’t keep holding onto it the entire time because you needed both your hands while you’re working, so once you adjust your top it would slip back down your shoulders in seconds.

It kept happening over and over before Taehyung notices, a smug smirk sits on his face before he runs his index finger over the collar of your shirt. “I love your shirt.” And you playfully slap his hand off and grab him by his chin to throw his head back, dabbing contour onto his jaw line. “Thank you, I got it when we were in Vegas last year.”

He moves his head down again to look at your plain white top as if it was his first time seeing this excessive amount of skin, he’s totally checking out your tits and cleavage that appeared whenever your shirt fell down your shoulder. “Oh I miss Vegas.”

“You do?” You push his head back again and he finally gives in. “I enjoyed shopping there.”

“Other magical stuff can happen in Vegas if you know what I mean.” He winks at you which makes you force a laugh. “Says the one who spent his entire time at the hotel.”

“Exactly.” He simply agrees before looking around making sure no one is listening before signaling you to come closer and you do, and he whispers. “I spent two nights with four different women.”

You’re used to so many weird things from the seven boys, but this is a first for you. You look around worriedly hoping that no one over heard him, your body tenses and you feel the need to escape this weird topic. “It was an iconic concert though.”

He scoffs before whispering again. “Girl fuck the concert, four different whores in two nights, it was an experience out of this world.”

“Taehyung.” Your voice stern and serious when you stop him. “You know this isn’t allowed, and you’re being a little loud right now.”

He waves his hand before he looks you dead in the eye. “We do this all the time, nothing is not allowed.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s always you men bragging about stuff like that.”

And he even dares to look around the room again. “There are 13 different women in this room right now, I slept with like.. 9 of them.”

Your shirt drops down your shoulder again but you’re too occupied working on the face in front of you that’s been blabbering nonstop about things that are making you severely uncomfortable. “This is totally not okay.”

“Says who.” His eyes pierce through your cleavage. “Sometimes girls beg me to sleep with them, and I can’t let them down can I?”

“You’re lying.” Your fingers start working faster still making sure the makeup that sits on his face is flawless, you’re wishing this conversation would end fast.

“I can show you if you want to.” He raises an eyebrow in challenge and you giggle thinking in your head that he’s totally joking, but he probably isn’t.

“No thanks I’m good.” You finally put on some lip tint and spray his face with a setting spray. “You’re good to go.”

He gets up but his eyes are still focused onto your chest, a little uncomfortable space between you two as he puts his hands in his pockets. “If you still don’t believe me go ask Namjoon or Jungkook, they spent the night with someone and they could probably tell you about it.”

“Why are you insisting on proving it to me?” You frown and walk a step back, “I’m not interested in finding out more.”

He shrugs carelessly. “I wanted to do you a favor, maybe the nine I fucked in this room can finally be ten, by then I’ll have only three left.” He laughs, totally proud of the joke he said, if that’s even considered a joke.

You scrunch your nose and hit his chest playfully, you kind of wished you did it harder though before you tell him. “Shut up, get away.”

He takes another step closer and hooks his finger to the collar of your shirt to reveal your chest that’s only covered with a bra.

“I know the female body really well, and I know women really like having their tits sucked, have you ever had your tits sucked before?”

This time you push him harder and hug your shirt closer to your chest. “You’re crossing the limits Taehyung. Get away.”

He laughs playfully and feigns innocence before tapping your nose. “You’re so cute do you know that? I’ll see you on the break, maybe you should do some thinking until then.”

Mira the hairstylist pushes Taehyung back onto his chair and takes the headband off of his head, you reorganize the makeup into the makeup bag when you overhear him asking her. “Are you feeling better today?”

Mira sounds flustered when she answers him. “Shut up.”

Maybe he did actually fuck over half of the girls around this room, this man is unbelievable.

-

As soon as the first part of the concert ended they moved backstage again to change and have their makeup retouched, you knew he was going to start the awkward talk again so you put your airpods  on and pretended to be listening  to music even if you weren’t. His eyes were  piercing through your entire body the whole time.

He takes out his phone and opens the gallery to purposely open a video he filmed, he could see that you were watching his screen so he turns up the brightness on his phone.

In the video was a naked girl on her knees in front of him, her hands tied behind her back and her makeup was smudged, she was begging him to make her cum . And he was caressing her cheek and  putting his thumb between her lips.

Your facial expressions change and you find yourself cringing, he looks at you and bats his eyelashes. “I told you.”

“Taehyung, this is wrong on so many levels.” You push his face to the side to work on his makeup.

“It isn’t, I promise.” He shakes his head. “I promise you no one will ever know. We can spend a couple nights together and that’s it, no strings attached.”

And you immediately refuse. “Absolutely not.”

“Are you close with any of the girls around here?” He asks and you’re a little taken back at his question. “Yeah?”

“Who?”

“Luna I guess.” You name one of the girls while shrugging and he scoffs, before exiting the video on his phone and scrolling through it to open another video.

In it you see Luna one of your closest friends in the company, blindfolded in a bed and Taehyung’s face is in between her legs as he’s eating her out. Is it really okay to mess around?

“You can’t be serious.” You gasp. “Is it only you or do the other guys do the same?”

“I don’t care, but if you have your eye on someone I could hook you two up together or something.” He shrugs and your jaw visibly  drops. “You are unbelievable Kim Taehyung.”

“Wait until you try me in bed. I’m a fucking god.” He confidently speaks and you’re shocked, you’ve known the man for years but this is totally new for you. “Name someone else.” He exits the video on his phone before you shake your head. “No thanks, I don’t think I wanna see anymore.”

He locks his  phone and leans his head back onto the chair while crossing his arms. “Just think it through and I promise you won’t regret it.”

“It seems to me like you’re the one begging for sex.” You force a smirk, his eyes meet yours for a couple seconds and he mirrors your smirk. “What if I was?”

“You’re getting nothing anyway.” You shrug. “You’re done, get up.”

“Oh I get it.” He remains in his seat. “Are you attracted to someone else? Let me guess, is it Jungkook? All women have something for that jerk.”

“I can’t deny he’s cute. But nope.”

“Is it Seokjin?” He tilts his head. “No, is it Jimin? Do you have a kink for cute guys or something?”

You roll your eyes and turn your head to walk away before he grabs your wrist. “Can you make my lips a little darker please?”

You look around trying to find the lip brush before dabbing some color onto his lips. “I’ve been told that I was good with my mouth, I just care about you so much I feel the need to make you experience it.”

“Oh my god.” You roll your eyes and put the lip brush away, he rises up on his feet while laughing, “Alright I promise I’m done, but I just want you to think it through, you won’t regret it.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think I’m changing my mind.” You clean up your station, he brushes his entire body against your back and whispers. “Will you be there tomorrow on the episode filming?”

“Well I guess unfortunately I’m always there.” You flinch in your spot and immediately take a step back. “Taehyung please stop touching me like that.”

“Alright.” He takes a step back and whispers. “I have a surprise for you tomorrow, I promise you will love it.”

“Then maybe I should call sick.” You look at his reflection through the mirror, he smirks and high key stares down at your ass, a second away from actually groping it in front of the entire staff and his band mates. “So I’m guessing you don’t like surprises.”

“From you? Nope.” You turn to face him, realizing you’re sandwiched between him and the mirror behind you, “May I?” You clear your throat, trying to find a way to get away from him, he stands next to you and gives you enough space to walk out of the room, his eyes still locked onto your ass, thank god it was summer time and thank god for biker shorts. Taehyung was suffering when he can clearly see the outline of your panties through your shorts and he can’t do anything about it.

Your rejection only makes him insist more and Taehyung grew up spoiled, people got him everything he wanted, and if they didn’t, he made sure to get it in his own way. So your rejection doesn’t really matter to him. He will have you eventually.

Even if you said no.

-

It’s the next day and you were already on the set, luckily one of the other stylist couldn’t make it so you had to work with Namjoon and Jimin instead. You could clearly see Taehyung’s eyes staring at your reflection in the mirror even when he’s three chairs away. You roll your eyes when he winks at you and he even dares to blow a cheap kiss. Your friend Leah who’s been working on his face rolls her eyes too and stands in the way.

“Do you wanna put your lenses on?” You ask Namjoon, he takes one look at the mirror and shrugs. “I don’t feel like putting lenses on, what do you think?”

“You’d look good both ways, but maybe I should put more eye makeup on if you’re not putting lenses on, is that okay?” You fish out another palette and show him the colors and he nods. “Yeah, sounds good.”

“Of course. Y/N’s so good you have no idea.” Taehyung gets up from his chair and walks towards you. “You’re lucky she listens to you, I tried suggesting things to her but she kept saying no.”

Namjoon scoffs and grabs out his phone. “It’s because she’s smart.” Does he know about his friend?

“Don’t you want to know about the surprise?” He puts one of his hands in his pockets and takes a step closer to you, his other hand picking onto your top, even sneaking a look under it.  Practically there was nothing to see, the studio they were filming in was freezing cold so you had an extra layer on. You subtly push his hand away and look back at Namjoon’s face trying to finish him up. It was basically impossible with Taehyung distracting you.

He takes another step closer this time his body almost touching yours as he whispers. “I’ll be waiting for you in the parking lot after we’re done filming, please come.”

You sigh and look at him, this can’t end up will and it won’t. His personality specifically scares you and you could swear the man was bipolar in some sort, when sometimes he’s all flirty and shit, and all of a sudden he claims this character that’s so innocent and cute which doesn’t really suit him.

“I’ll think about it.” You put the brush down and tap Namjoon’s shoulder. “What do you think?”

“It looks great, thank you.” He barely smiles and immediately leaves his chair to go and lay down on the nearest couch. You turn your head back to put the brush back into the makeup bag and Taehyung is still standing there. His eyes still scanning your entire body.

He’s a man with a plan, and honestly he knew exactly how he wants to have you. He scans you head to toe, your hair that he wants to pull on while he’s pounding into you uncontrollably, your lips and neck that he cannot wait to bite into. The way you bite your lip when you’re anxious or when you try to hide a laugh always ignited him.

Your chest, fuck he can easily tell the color of your bras and he even knows when you do your laundry, he knows exactly when are the days you wear on your sports bra, or the days you switched to your black bra that perfectly highlighted your tits. Although he grew to be a fan of your pastel pink bra that makes the color of your skin pop, he admires how the cups hug onto your big tits and this bra’s straps particularly keep sliding down your small shoulders.

He moves down to your waist and hips, the outline of your panties through your pants were like a gift from god to him, he would purposely drop things down on the floor just to watch you pick it back up, and those days would usually end up with him either hooking up with someone just to let it out of his system, or just jerk it off alone in his place.

Your juicy ass is going to be the death of him, he would sometimes sneak into the gym at the company just to watch you jog in your tights, satiating his eyes and scratching an itch inside him just to watch it jiggle right before his eyes.

During their tours he would constantly grab your handbag into his hotel room, making an excuse that your handbags look alike even when they aren’t even remotely close to being similar. He would lock the door right away and rummage through your clothes just to fish out all your panties and jerk off to them, one being around his cock and the other one near his nose and lips, sniffing and inhaling whatever is left onto them of your smell, even though they were washed, but he convinced himself that this is how you smell. It was really erotic.

And before you notice your bag missing, he would quickly take pictures of your panties just for him to keep and return them to your bag and switching it out with his. He lost control so many times and “Accidentally” Shot his seed onto your panties, and with the small span of time he had, he had to return them soiled into your handbag.

Which when you discovered it was already dried up, you huffed and the naïve you thought it was the bottle of your conditioner blew up or something, which if you think harder and open your eyes, it was only one soiled panty.

Taehyung had a goal, and growing up not being surrounded by many women in his life, he’s compensating but in an abnormal way, he has hooked up with over half the women who work in your company and it was your turn and he wanted to have you just so he can check your name on the list and tick it done.

“We’re starting in 10 minutes.” The producer announces which snaps Taehyung out of his thoughts. “So did you pack for tomorrow?”

“Yeah, aren’t you excited?” You genuinely ask, you packed up your carry on the night before since you’re all heading to Osaka tomorrow for their tour. You can’t deny you love your job, you get to travel all over the world with them and you even get paid for it. But little do you know, there will be a price you have to pay.

“Oh yeah, even when it’s just for one day but I love Osaka.” He looks behind you and you follow his eyesight to find one of the stylists wearing short shorts that her lower butt cheek was clearly visible to everyone. You look back at Taehyung to see him still glancing at her ass with his head tilted. “Oh my god Taehyung, stop.”

He laughs and takes his phone out. “Come take a look. Her ass didn’t look like that when she was naked.” You debate for a second but you’re human after all and you’re a little curious, you stand next to him and watch him dig through a locked folder on his phone, scrolling up for a good two minutes before he finds the picture.

It was that stylist laying flat on the bed face down, her hand tied behind her back and her bare ass was sore read, clearly spanked and fucked until she passed out. And he was right, her ass didn’t look the same when she was naked. “You’re right, but that doesn’t mean that this isn’t wrong.”

“Hey, if it makes you feel better I get their consent before I do anything.” He scrolls up again. “Wanna see something else? Look, this is her.”

He hands you one of his airpods and you put it on, and he starts a video of her down on her knees, her eyes blood red, clearly she was either drunk or high, and she was begging him to slap her on the face with his thumb into her mouth.

“Shit.. Please daddy, please spank me and make me yours.”

“Good girl, are you going to be daddy’s little whore and beg more?”

“Please spank your little whore on the face, it feels so fucking good when you do that, please spank me.”

And he slaps her hard on the cheek enough to make her hair fall on her face, but she immediately looks back at him and begs him to do it again and again and he does. And you can’t help but to notice the tip of his cock showing in the video. “How does getting slapped on the face feel good? I don’t get it.”

“Shh-“ He notices your voice getting a little higher and opens up another video. “You shouldn’t knock it till you try it, every girl I’ve been with said it felt amazing.”

“Do you think you would enjoy getting slapped on the face?” You ask, blinking your eyes a couple of times, he smirks and locks his phone. “I haven’t tried yet, but I’m willing to try it with you if you want to, maybe you can slap me on the face while you’re riding my dick, we’ll see if it feels good.”

Your face flushes at his explicit mentions of sex, you hit him on the arm and turn away from him, packing your kit into the makeup bag and taking a seat finally. And your flushed cheeks are considered as a good sign to him, he’s getting there and he’s slowly sinking his claws in to have you eventually.

The episode they’re filming took them a little over eight hours, you’re already packed and ready to leave and you hesitate actually going down to the parking lot, it’s almost an hour after filming and you’re not sure he’s still in the building or not.

The elevator stops at -1 and you make your way out, the entire floor is near empty and you can only spot around four cars parked around the floor, and all of them seem empty, except for the Genesis Suv that’s parked way back in the corner that flashes it’s lights repeatedly. It’s him.

You make your way there and reach your hand to the door handle and try to open it but it’s locked. Quite a trashy move of him to actually call you over and forget his car locked. You roll your eyes when he unlocks the car and you go inside. “What?”

“What?” He mocks you and locks his car again, “How was your day?”

“Taehyung just make it quick will you? We have a flight to catch tomorrow and I’m nowhere near ready—“ You’re interrupted by him shushing you and grabbing your purse away from you to put in the back seat. He reaches his entire body to the car floor and takes out a little box that’s wrapped in a tiny velvety ribbon. “This is my surprise for you.”

You’re intrigued. Your gaze meets his for a split second before you reject the box. “I can’t take gifts from you.”

He doesn’t even argue as he offers you the box again. “Hey, you don’t have to open it now if you want to.” He puts the box down onto your lap and leans his arm on the middle console. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning and you’ll tell me what you think, deal?”

You’re even more intrigued and you’re getting more curious to actually find out what’s inside, and why would he actually stay after schedule just to hand you this gift? You even shake the box while suspiciously maintaining eye contact with him which makes him smirk. You can only hear one thing clicking in the box and you can’t quite put a finger on it and figure out what it is?

“Alright, whatever. Are you going to drive me to my place or what?” You already put your hand on the door handle ready to leave the car. “No I can’t I’m sorry, I have a place to be, I can get you to the bus stop if you want to.” He just says that out of pity. What a douche.

“No thank you, I’ll walk there.” You squint your eyes before you leave the car, he doesn’t even wait for you to walk out of the building and he drives away fast, he really is a douche.

Public transportation wasn’t a big deal for you anyway, the ride home on the bus was very therapeutic to you, you usually keep your headphones on and listen to an audio book on your way back to clear your mind, or you would usually catch up with your friends on the group chat or something.

Sometimes you would even fall asleep if it was an exhausting day, but on your trip home tonight you were anticipating getting to your studio apartment so much, not that you’re greedy for the gift or anything, but you’re just curious why he so suddenly decided on giving you a gift that actually looks expensive.

You get there after a 40 minute trip and you finally get into your flat, not even taking your shoes off you rush to your couch and put the box down and untie the little dainty velvety ribbon, you take the top of the box off and you only see a few wrapping papers covering what seems to be a clothing item. You take it out and you feel your entire body heat up. It’s a costume.

No no, not any costume, it’s a little too slutty to be an actual costume. It’s a black leather one piece with spaghetti straps, a really low neck line that you know no one’s chest will ever fit in them. Not only that, but a pair of black lace stockings and suspenders, and a choker.

What in hell..

You put them down on the couch beside you and dig deeper into the box to find cat ears headband and a.. What the actual fuck.

A butt plug?

You cannot believe him, you put the blame on yourself for actually listening to him and meeting him up in the parking lot, and you shouldn’t have accepted the gift in the first place, he’s an actual man whore.

You scrunch up the entire outfit in a messy ball and throw it back in the box, before closing it and throwing it near your door on the floor, so you can pick it up and throw it in the trash in the morning.

-

A mini-van is supposed to collect all the girls up from their places and head to the airport, and of course you’re late. Last night’s sleep was horrendous, you couldn’t stop overthinking about the little trashy gift you got from the trashy man. You cannot believe some girls actually idolize this man.

“Y/N, if we miss the flight we have to book one ourselves.” Mira shouts as you hurriedly close your carry on and struggle to put on your pair of sneakers. You look at the trash near your door and sigh. “Damn it. I have to take the trash out.”

“Nope, you’re not taking anything out, I’m not willing to pay anything extra for the job I cannot stand.” She’s slowly losing her patience and so are you. You forget about the trash and get out of your place and lock your door.

The moment you get to the airport it’s already chaotic. Their schedule has been up since last week to the public and their fans know that they’re going out for tour, so they’re waiting there to hand them gifts and handmade letters. Again you cannot believe the image he shows to people of him when you know his true personality.

And boy was he good at faking an entire persona, you have no idea what girls think of him but fuck he’s nowhere near how girls imagine him. A trashy human being that you could swear reeks like sex the entire time. He looks like he woke up with a hangover so you guess he was probably with someone last night and he was onto something.

He notices your existence amid all the chaos when you all get up to the lounge to have your breakfast even when you could’ve waited to get to Japan to eat, the trip wasn’t that far away. You grab yourself a cup of coffee and stack up food on your plate, you know you won’t have the time to eat later so you decide on fueling up early today.

“Good morning.” He puts his coffee down on the same table you’re sitting around and you sigh before looking around. Relax Y/N, you cannot make a scene.

“Good morning.” You proceed on eating, you cannot let him ruin your morning this quickly.

“So, what do you think?” He crosses his legs and tilts his head towards you. “The moment I saw the costume I knew I had to buy it for you.”

“Mhm, truly says a lot about your character, a trashy gift from someone like you.” You don’t beat around the bush. He laughs and leans towards you to whisper. “Please tell me you got it in your luggage.”

“Nope, I’m getting rid of it—“

He shrugs right away. “Then I’ll buy you another one.”

A moment of silence fills the air when your gaze meets his for a couple seconds, he pulls his chair closer to yours and takes his phone out which makes you whine. You know he’s going to show you more of his kinky NSFW content and it’s really uncomfortable for you to watch it. “Look, I don’t know how I can explain this better for you, but trust me. It is okay for things like that to happen in this field.”

“Just because everyone’s doing it doesn’t mean it’s right.” There you go, a girl with standards.

“I swear it is okay.” He pulls his chair even closer and now his shoulder is rubbing against yours when he whispers. “Y/N baby, us men are totally different. You girls can go around without sex for ages and you won’t even care. But men have this sexual energy that they need to let out one way or another.”

This is really disgusting.

“And people like us need to be careful on who to hook up with, and you girls are the safest because we work together.” He shrugs. “Not only us, every idol in the country has to do so.”

Of course it’s partially right, but you’re genuinely confused on why wouldn’t he just get a girlfriend instead of bitching around with plenty of women.

“You know, the idea itself is not that acceptable, but I can understand. But why do you film them? For the love of god you have an entire folder on your phone dedicated to this content. I mean, why do you have to film them when you have them right there in front of you?”

“Good question.” He nods. “You know how some people try and discover themselves, they sometimes dig around here and there trying to find out what actually turns them on, and you know they try and discover their preferences?”

“Are you trying to mansplain what kinks are?” You proceed on eating. “So is that your kink? You like filming women?”

“It’s more fun than the actual thing to me. And the times I made myself cum to the videos I created are countless. It’s fucking sexy.” He grits on his teeth and puts an arm around your chair. You’re getting uncomfortable with him not leaving you enough amount of personal space. “I love watching them looking at the camera and begging to be fucked and just submit to me.”

“And they’re all okay with being filmed?” You ask him and he nods right away. “Now they know what I like, and now they ask me to film them. What about you?”

“No, I’m good thank you.” You answer right away and put down your fork when you’ve fully wiped your plate clean.

“No, I mean what kinks do you have? Have you tried discovering what your preferences are?” He asks, twirling a strand of your hair in his hand, you can feel his breath against your ear when he whispers. “What was it like being fucked the first time?”

It takes you a moment to answer but you eventually do. “I don’t remember what it was like, it was long ago, but I don’t recall it being fun.”

“First time is always awkward.” He nods. “What about the second time?”

You shrug one shoulder and cross your arms. “I don’t think of sex the way you do. I mean I’ve had sex multiple times with different partners, but I think it’s a little overrated.”

“Overrated?” He’s offended. His hand sits on his chest. “You think sex is overrated?”

“Okay chill.” You get up on your feet to refill your coffee and he follows you. “I just don’t find it as fun and as pleasuring as people claim it is.”

“It’s because you haven’t had it with the right person.” He defends right away. “Oh my god did you even cum before?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, maybe.”

He’s interrupted by your gate opening, their carryon luggage is carried and already loaded inside and the rest of the staff is starting to board. “This isn’t finished yet. I’ll see you when we get to our hotel.”

“Whatever Taehyung, don’t make a big deal out of this.” You push him away to grab your bag and get in line. “It is a big deal.” He argues one last time and gets in line and boards the plane.

-

You have no idea what went through you, but the entire flight you were rethinking your conversation with him and you find yourself slowly getting convinced about the idea generally. You really surprised yourself when you hum out loud, thinking that you are getting curious to try and spend one night with him.

Do girls actually want to sleep with him because he’s good? Or because he’s an idol and that’s like literally a fetish to some people.

You cannot deny he’s really good looking, he’s really charming on camera but even the camera doesn’t do him any justice, he was perfectly sculpted in real life and way more attractive than people think.  But it’s just his recurrent sexual behavior that’s been setting you off. You find yourself cringing.

The entire plane has been booked for Bangtan and their staff. Them with their managers, security, filming staff, directors, producers, engineers, stylists and makeup artists of course, editors. Everyone on this plane knew each other.

It was a little noisy to begin with since some are catching up and some are chatting, so you put your earphones on the entire flight, and right when your third song on your playlist ended and the fourth one is about to start, you over hear the girls behind you.

“You need to cover for me when we get there.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can barely stand on my feet, and I’m really sore from last night.”

“Who did you spend the night with? I thought you were inviting me.”

“Taehyung and Jungkook. I passed out at the end.”

“You’re kidding.” 

So it is normal for girls to actually sleep with them and go around telling their friends like it’s totally okay. It’s starting to feel like a whore house, and it probably is.

You peak your head to look towards Jungkook and Taehyung, both of them are sleeping and even snoring. Of course they’re tired when they spend the previous night with the same girl. This is so fucked up.

Not long after you all get to the hotel to spend the only free hour you get before your day starts and you all head to the stadium for rehearsals. You’re surprised that the entire hotel is booked for the staff too and you luckily get your own room with one single bed, but who are you to complain? You always hated having roommates, so one bed is way better than having a roommate.

Right when you’re about to close the door a foot stops it from moving any further which startles you for a second before you open the door again. Of course it’s him, who’s been digging deep and moving around asking stylists which room you got. “Oh come on.” You whine.

“Can I come in?” He so politely and innocently asks, for a second you’d doubt he’s the same person who showed you an entire folder of girls begging him to do stuff to them. He doesn’t even step a foot further inside your room before you huff and roll your eyes. “Come in.”

He takes one last look to the corridor and walks in, the door automatically locking when it closes.

“What’s up?” You act occupied as you take out your skin care products to put onto the dresser. He plops down onto your bed and grabs the pillow to put under his head. “We have unfinished business.”

“Taehyung, don’t you take no for an answer?” You don’t even spare him a glance.

“Hey, If it makes you feel any better, I’m your friend and colleague, we’re around the same age, consider this as a friend helping another friend.” He shrugs and talks as if it’s that easy. “And if it makes you comfortable, I’m not filming you if you don’t want to.”

“Oh yeah, because filming me was the only problem.” You turn your head to the little coffee machine in the corner of your room and make yourself a cup, he doesn’t argue back which makes you wonder why, you turn your head and he’s literally digging into your handbag and taking out one of your bras.

“Kim fucking Taehyung.” You snatch your bra away from him. “Get out.”

“I knew you were a C cup.” He gets up onto his feet. “Look, I’m sorry if this made you uncomfortable, but I don’t know why you’re really over thinking it. It’s just a one time thing, we hook up and that’s it, no one has to even know.”

“You could easily lure any woman into bed and we both know it, but snatching away my bra and showing me your stupid kink and shit won’t get me into bed with you.” You put your bra back into your handbag and close it.

“Then tell me how.” He puts his hand into his pockets. “What could get Y/N to sleep with me?”

“Exactly, and it’s nothing, nothing could get me to sleep with you Taehyung, this is fucked up.”

“Money? How much and I’ll give it to you cash, right now.”

The audacity on this man.

“Oh my god, you’re making it even worse if you can’t tell. Get out.” You open the door to your room.

He huffs and walks towards the door to shut it again. “Okay, look, I’m sorry if this offended you I didn’t mean so. But again why are you rejecting it? Millions of women want to be in your place.”

“Yeah, I know, and I’m not one of those millions. Besides, how am I supposed to look at you again if we ever slept together?” You cross your arms.

“Like you’ve always looked at me.” He pouts. “Nothing will change, no strings attached, it’s just one night, is it my fault that I really want you to enjoy one night?”

You open the door again and look him in the eye, your coffee is already gone cold and you’re over this argument. He closes the door again and tugs your hair behind your ear, whispering softly. “Y/N.. I feel like you’re different, you’re nothing like other girls, you’re a really nice, sweet and attractive young lady that deserves to feel like a woman.”

It’s a little alarming to you that with such small physical contact with him could make you think about it seriously.

There’s nothing to lose, you’re a woman after all and you have your needs.

He promised you one night, no strings attached, and apparently he’s really good and he knows what he’s doing.

“Don’t you think you deserve to have at least one night of mind blowing sex?” He grins and grazes the back of his hand against your cheek. “We’re flying back to Seoul tomorrow night, I’ll give you enough time to think, and maybe I can have your phone number or something, we could stay in contact and probably discuss things while keeping it on the low key.”

“Discuss?” You squint your eyes.

“Yeah, we could talk, tell me what you like and how you like it, you know, stuff like that.” He elaborates, you sigh and look him in the eyes. “What if we happen to like different things?”

“Then I’m willing to let go of the things that I like just for your sake.” He crosses his fingers. “I’m a good boy I promise.”

“Fine.” You can’t believe yourself. You take your phone out of your back pocket and proceed to add him to your contacts, a satisfied smile lingers on his face and he even leans forward to print a kiss to your cheek. He’s totally buttering up his bread and he thinks he can get you to agree to this faster, but you’re smarter than him.

“You’re crossing the lines Taehyung.”

“Who cares about the damn lines, if we agree to this I’ll be kissing other things and you’ll want me to.” He opens the door to your room and walks out. “I’ll see you around.”

And indeed. After your one hour free time you all headed to the stadium for rehearsals, the concert was happening tomorrow but everyone needed orientation around the place.

During the entire day he never brought it up, neither look at you like he has been recently, he kept it professional with you in front of everyone and never spoke about it like it never happened.

You were scheduled to leave the stadium at around 11 in the evening, the girls decided on going out for dinner but you skipped, you had multiple coffees during your day and you don’t feel physically well, so you just head back to your hotel and take the elevator up to your room.

You gasp when you see him about to take the elevator and go down, you barely recognize him when he has a cap and a face mask on. “Oh, hey Y/N.” He so casually speaks.

“Hey, you’re going out?” Why did you even ask. He laughs softly and shakes his head. “No, I’m going downstairs to grab a bite from the buffet, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you going out?”

“I’m a little tired, I guess I’ll just go to sleep or something.” It feels like you’re talking to the Taehyung you’ve always known for the past years, nothing feels different so far.

He looks at the time on his wrist and looks back at you. “If you want to, I’ll grab something to eat quickly and come hang out with you, maybe we can talk about that thing.”

Yup, never mind.

“I think I’d rather sleep.” You walk out of the elevator and he walks in instead. “Come on, 10 minutes max, I won’t be late.”

You shouldn’t have asked him anything in the first place.

“You know, I don’t think it would be a good idea if you and I stayed alone in one room.”

“Don’t worry, we’re not going to spice things up, we’re just hanging out discussing things, like other colleagues do.” He presses the button on the elevator. “I’ll see you later.”

And the elevator door closes before you could even shoo him away for the evening. He’s just going to come up to your room later and you know he’ll force himself inside.

You click the key card to your room and immediately change to your pajamas, you even turn off the lights and hope he thinks you’re asleep by the time he knocks at your door.

Thankfully time passed by and he never knocked. But instead he went back to his room and decided to text you.

1:54 | KTH:

Couldn’t come by sorry

1:54 | KTH:

Are you still awake?

1:54 | KTH

Wanna come over to my room 😉

KTH sent a photo

KTH sent a video

Of course he can see your read receipts, he knows you’re awake and he even lured you further into the conversation by sending you a photo and a video that you rush to open.

He’s not exactly there in the photo, the picture is taken of his TV turned on and he’s under the blanket, you can only see his covered legs from above the blanket, nothing too special.

The video is what makes your ears buzz, you find yourself pressing your thighs closer to each other, when he palms what seems to be his erection from above the blanket, and holy fuck was he big or were you hallucinating. You turn the volume up and you can hear his breath changing with every stroke of his cock. He inserts his hand under the blanket and strokes his cock before flipping the camera to his face and smiling like nothing happened.

Luckily that video is on replay, so it keeps replaying on its own unless you swipe it away, you don’t know what possesses you, you put your phone down against the used coffee cup from earlier and pull your pants down, your hand travels down to your folds and you touch yourself, delivering circular continues rubs to your clit and teasing your entrance with your middle and ring finger.

You spit onto your fingers and move further down again to rub your clit faster this time, your shoulders tensing and your hand already growing tired. It always takes you so long to get to your edge and you need a stimulant more than just a stupid photo or a video. Your other hand moves to grab your breasts out of your top and you pinch your nipple and squeeze onto your flesh. “Mmm.” Your eyes are piercing through your phone screen but your stupid screen saver decides on locking your phone which makes you whine desperately. “Ugh.” You grab your phone and unlock it, of course the video is gone.

2:03 | KTH:

Like what you see?

Has it been 9 minutes already?

Your fingers rush to type on the screen.

2:03 | You:

🙄

2:04 | You:

Mister kim is spending a night alone how weird

2:04 | KTH:

Mister Kim?

2:04 | KTH:

You can keep calling me mister kim if you want to 😉

You bite onto your fingernails, wanting to send a risky text but you’re so unsure. Your fingers hover over the screen and you proceed to type, but quickly delete what you wrote.

2:05 | KTH:

Want me to send you more? Maybe you can send me some

And of course this is off the table, you’re not going to send him nudes not because you’re against sending them generally, but you’re against sending nudes to him. Your pictures may end up in a folder on his phone like any other woman.

2:06 | You:

Goodnight.

Taehyung has been dealing with women like you for years now, he can see and expect any behavior that you may project and this is one of these situations. You sending him goodnight didn’t quite literally mean goodnight. He knows you want this to happen but you’re still in denial and you don’t know that yourself.

So of course, without thinking twice, he opens the camera on his phone and this time pulls the blanket down a little just to reveal the tip of his cock that’s pressed against his stomach. He grabs the massage oil to pump some onto his long fingers and strokes his angry dick again.

The man has been with so many women that he built a stamina that no regular woman can take, he can go for hours and women even beg him to cum just so they can rest, he was animalistic and it was out of this world, hence women actually passing out when sleeping with him. Stroking his cock alone won’t get him to his end and he could easily calm his erection without having to cum, the self control on this man is incredible.

 He touches the red circle on his phone screen and starts filming, clearly teasing you and showing you only the tip, his cock all glistening from the massage oil. It was quiet around his hotel room, and the only thing that’s heard in the video is the sound of stroking heard clearly when it’s this slippery, and the sounds he was unbelievably good at faking, little whimpers and moans, his breath hitching and even swear words escaping his lips. “Fuck.. Mm, Y/N, this is all for you.”

The video was sent to you, and you don’t hesitate to open it, this time actually positioning yourself on the bed and grabbing out one of the thickest makeup brushes you have on hand, wetting it with your mouth and slowly teasing your entrance before pushing it inside. The video starts and your fingers abruptly move to turn up the volume. Your body instantly heats up and reacts upon the sounds you hear, and holy fuck you can clearly see the tip, and it looks fucking edible at this moment.

You cannot believe this is happening and you feel your face even heating up, is it embarrassment? You can’t tell, it may be embarrassment but hey you’re not the one sending nudes he is. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.

Well except the fact that you’re masturbating to a video of him.

You hear your name and in a click of a button, your stomach tightens and your back arches, your hand moves faster to insert the back of the makeup brush further inside your thirsty pussy as you chase your orgasm. Even when the brush was cold and it practically didn’t feel like skin nor had the size of an actual dick but it was enough for you to let go.

Your chest heaves and your legs shut tightly around your hand and the video still plays on your phone that’s still nesting in your other hand, your eyes locked onto the screen afraid that you can’t see the same shot anymore when you swipe away.

The last bit of self control of you finally washes into your body and you swipe away, you can’t deny you immediately regret but you had to swipe away at some point.

2:35 | KTH:

I thought I’d hear u cum but I didn’t L

Your body stiffens and you immediately get up onto your feet, the makeup brush slips out of your vagina down onto the floor and you rush to see through the peephole and immediately cover your mouth with your hand when you see him standing there on his phone, leaned against your door and still texting you. Your hand that’s holding your phone is leaned against the door so with every text he send it vibrates and the entire door vibrates with it which makes him look at the peephole from his side.

And holy fuck at this point you’re terrified. Luckily your room is dark and he can’t see anything, but he knows you’re watching him. You rush to grab your pants and put them back on and get under your blanket. As if he’s going to open the door at any second and hurt you.

You shut your eyes tightly trying to avoid looking at your phone screen but you eventually do.

2:38 | KTH:

Sent you 9 messages.

The door to your room knocks and you actually gasp, covering your mouth again but the entire floor was so quiet and empty that if a needle fell everyone would hear it.

You get up onto your feet and put on a jacket to cover yourself even when your pajama wasn’t revealing at all, you just put your jacket on for protection. You look through the peephole one last time before you open up and he almost stumbles because he leaned his entire body weight against the door. “Hey, I thought you’d never open.”

“Yeah, what’s up?” You hug your jacket closer to your chest and cross your arms, “What’s up?” He asks with a smirk on his face as he walks inside your room and closes the door behind him, “So what did it feel like?”

“Hmm?” You open the mini fridge and grab water out for yourself to take a few sips. He chuckles and puts his hands into his pockets. “Y/N baby, I know your body more than you do. Your face has the afterglow and you’re not breathing regularly, and your lips are blood red. What did it feel like when you made yourself cum to the video?”

“Taehyung I—“

“What did you like the most? The sounds or your name actually being called when I’m jerking off to you?” He plops down on your bed and throws his phone down on the nightstand.

“I’m not breathing regularly because you’re over here past midnight spying on my door.” You sit across the room, maintaining a good amount of space between you two. “And please don’t call me baby, I’m not your baby.”

He rolls his eyes and huffs. “We’re just chatting, trust me I’m not going to touch you if you don’t give me your consent I promise, besides I-- Hey, what’s that?”

His eyes land on the makeup brush that’s dropped down onto your floor, and the glistening tip is what caught his attention. “What do you mean, this is a makeup brush.” You rush to stand up and run towards it but he’s faster than you are, he picks it up from the floor and a smirk sits on his face, fuck he even grabs it closer to smell it and he knows what this smell is. But yours was sweeter and truly different from other smells.

“Would you look at that.” He scoffs. “A makeup brush? Really?”

“Stop.” You bite onto your own teeth and you approach him to snatch it away, but again he’s faster. He licks the tip of the brush once and smacks his tongue into his mouth before swallowing. “Mm.”

Your entire body freezes when you watch him savor it, he licks  the tip of the brush clean with his eyes closed, you thought your body would react to it but none, you’re standing there stiff right before him when he gets up onto his feet. He opens his eyelids and his gaze meets yours, his pair of tight sleepy eyes gazing right through yours. “You taste heavenly.” He grabs your hand and puts the brush into it before leaving your room and closing the door behind him. The second you hear  the auto lock on the door you drop down to your bed with the brush in your hand.

Trails of his saliva are visible on the end of it and you cannot help but pull it closer to your mouth and lick it after him. You’re fucked.

You wake up the morning after wishing you could forget what happened last night. You’re pretty sure you’re embarrassed and ashamed at the fact that you got caught. You didn’t want this to happen to begin with, how are you supposed to look at him when you have to spend the entire day with him?

You pack your handbag and hand it to the hotel staff, you’re going straight from the stadium to the airport so you had to be ready and they took your bag to load the bus with the rest of the luggage.

“I don’t get it, we left the hotel at the same time, he’s supposed to be here.” Mira whines. The entire staff was ready and he wasn’t there yet. “The sound check is in less than an hour—“

“We know the schedule Mira, please just Shush.” You woke up on the wrong side of the bed and you weren’t ready to hear any whining, “Yeah Mira. I’m here give yourself a break.” Taehyung walks from behind you and gets seated onto the chair. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Mira alone responds and proceeds to blow dry his hair while you take out your kit and completely ignore the man seated on the chair in front of you.

He’s trying to look at you sneakily but he’s keeping his promise, no one is going to know anything so he’s not going to be doing anything suspicious to the rest of the staff. “Are you feeling better today?” He asks politely.

“Me?” You point to yourself unsure if he’s talking to you, and he blinks his eyes in a “Yes.” Before speaking. “You weren’t feeling well when I saw you in the elevator last night.”

“Yeah, she didn’t join us for dinner, are you feeling well?” Leah asks while she’s working on Seokjin’s hair.

“Oh yes, I went to bed early and I’m doing well today.” You force a smile on your face and grab out the little bag that had all your makeup brushes.  That brush is the first thing you see when you open the tiny purse and it reminds you in case you forgot, that you were caught masturbation last night.

“You can start Y/N. I need to get a new bottle of hairspray from downstairs.” Mira puts her stuff down and walks away leaving you to work on Taehyung’s face.

“Can I ask you something?” He looks around before whispering and you answer him right away. “Nope.” Which makes him pout. You roll your eyes and start dabbing primer onto his face. “What do you want?”

“Did you really throw away the thing I got you?”

“Well, I’m planning to.” You poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue, he shrugs and whispers. “What you did yesterday would feel ten times better if you actually use the gift.”

“I don’t do butt stuff Taehyung.” You argue right away, still low enough for only you two to hear. He looks at you while squinting his eyes. “Who said anything about butt stuff?”

“You sent me a butt plug, don’t try and act oblivious, the gift didn’t send itself.” You grab his chin to throw his head back. “Silly, it wasn’t a butt plug, it was a vibrator.”

His face is right there you can easily slap him and make a scene, it’ll cost you your job but who cares.

“Don’t look  at me like that.” He scoffs. “Text me when you get home tonight I’ll show you how to use it.”

“I know how a vibrator works Taehyung thank you. Now would you stop moving I can’t blend the concealer well.” You try hard to change the topic, but the idiot grabs your purse of makeup brushes and takes out that brush and hands it to you. “Here, I think this one will do.”

Your gaze meets his for a couple seconds before he looks down at your lips and bites his own, totally imagining your lips swollen from all the kissing, the picture of you choking onto his dick that he drew in his head is now chasing him whenever he lays his eyes onto you.

Maybe you being mean to him made him actually want to have you more than before, you’re unlike them, other girls from your staff didn’t even think twice before hooking up with him. But you being a tough cookie made him ready to beg just to be with you even if it was just once.

[missrosegold]

someone new

Synopsis: Post-war!AU. It’s the quite moments that Touya enjoys the most. Sometimes he still has a hard time believing they’re real. That you are real.

He has no problems allowing you to remind him of the latter.  

Word count: 16K

Paring: Dabi x Reader (fem!reader)

Warnings: Mentions of post surgical interventions, Touya has hints of survivors guilt and some suicidal idealization if you squint, Smut and additional warnings listed below and on A03 so Minors or Ageless Blogs please DNI. This is rated 18+

Playlist: Omar Apollo - Evergreen (You Didn't Deserve Me At All)

Authors notes: Written for @shibaraki Komorebi collab! Thanks for having me love! Hope you enjoy!

Title is from Someone New by Hozier

**You can read it on A03 here if the formatting on Tumblr is throwing you off! I cross-post all my works onto my A03 account!

Sometimes Touya wonders how he got here.

It’s a loaded question and he knows as much. He knows exactly where he is, and he’s painfully aware of the series of events that led him to this moment in time – but he often finds himself struggling to believe it.

A part of him doesn’t want to believe it – a gnarled, still-angry part of what remains of his soul is convinced that it’s all part of some elaborate dream – one that will fade away and leave him alone and bitter once more as soon as he opens his eyes.

He falls asleep again and again, trying to prove his theory, but every time he wakes back up, he’s still in the same place:

He wakes up in your sun-lit apartment, more often in your bed, with you – always close by, never too far away.

It’s where he is even now: nestled into the soft sheets of your—no, the bed you shared together, even though it’s pushing noon on a Tuesday. Despite his body screaming at him to move, he can’t bring himself to get up just yet.

It’s not like it matters if he stays in bed anyways, he doesn’t have anywhere to be. He doesn’t have his court mandated therapy appointment until Thursday, and it’s not like he has a nine to five job like most people do. Christ, he can’t even leave your apartment building without you or a Pro-hero escort with him. (Who, ninety-five percent of the time ends up being Shoto, since he’s about the only person who wants to deal with him these days aside from you, his mom, and sometimes Fuyumi and Natsuo.)

He rolls over slightly and listens for you, trying to hear the tell-tale tread of your footsteps echoing through the halls, or the sound of you humming a gentle melody under your breath as you do your menial chores around the apartment; before it finally occurs to him that it’s a weekday and you’re at work.

He stifles a groan as he finally pushes himself up, and makes his way towards the bathroom connected to the master bedroom, flicking on the light and shutting the door behind him.

That was his biggest problem these days: not wondering when his next meal would be. Not obsessing over ruining his father’s life as he had done his. Not charring himself past the point of no return as a means of exacting vengeance upon the world of Pro Hero’s that had long since turned their backs on him. No. That was all in the past.

For the first time in his life, it was boredom that was getting to him.

That was a joke if he ever fucking heard one.

Looking at himself now it’s hard to believe that he was once a homicidal serial killer, with a rap sheet several miles long.

He looks different now. He fights the urge to snort as he turns away from his reflection in your bathroom mirror while he goes about his business.

Like a snake that sheds it’s skin every couple of years, he’s changed his form once again; though this transformation wasn’t up to him. He had no choice in the matter; what happened to him after the war was decided for him. His opinions be damned. (Though, if he thinks about it, he didn’t really give All For One and his fucked up scientist permission to piece him back together after he incinerated himself up the first time. The irony almost makes him laugh.)

He forces himself to face his reflection in the mirror as he begins the painstaking task of his skincare routine – burning turquoise eyes staring a little too long at who looks back at him.

The worst of his burn scars are gone, though the shadow of them remains. His two-toned flesh has been concealed by pale, raised skin, but he can still see the lines in his face from his first Escharotomy – a reminder of Dabi; always lingering, never fully gone, even if he wears a different face.

The rest of his body is like that as well. No longer is he marred by wicked burn scars and surgical staples; he is one even skin tone now. He is complete by all accounts, even though he feels anything but whole. The skin grafts aren’t perfect – they’re textured and prone to drying out, and the skin around his eyes always looks bloodshot – but for the first time in years, when he looks in the mirror; the person staring back at him actually looks like Touya.

It's not a perfect visual, but it’s still closer than he ever thought possible.

Truth be told, he still has a difficult time looking at himself in the mirror. It’s jarring honestly. He’d gotten so used to seeing the horrific scarring on himself, that seeing his reflection without them makes him feel like he’s staring at someone new.

The skin grafts he received at some point after his barely responsive body was all but dragged off the battle field, still itch sometimes, but he knows it’s all in his head. He can’t feel anything. He hasn’t been able to feel anything since he was discharged from the hospital he been taken to after he collapsed.

His memories of that time are hazy – he had been doped up on heavy narcotics and other nerve blockers as he was subjected to surgery after surgery in a desperate attempt to fix his scorched body – so much so, that he doesn’t know how long he was out for, or how much time passed while he was in recovery.

He remembers Shoto coming to visit him shortly after waking up from the worst of his many surgeries, and explaining that while the doctors had been able to successfully graft new skin onto him, (how his mangled body had been able to withstand another set of skin grafts was beyond him), they hadn’t been able to fix his damaged nerve endings, and had opted to cauterize the few that still worked; leaving him completely numb to any and all feeling.

Truthfully, he hadn’t cared at the time, he hadn’t been able to feel much of anything for years before that, and the little he was still able to feel was nothing but chronic pain, so at the time he has seen the news as a blessing.

And then he met you.

Shortly after that, he found himself cursing the fact that he couldn’t feel anything at all.

-----

He remembers the first time he met you.

After he had been cleared to leave the hospital, he had been taken to a heavily fortified psychiatric ward, eerily similar to the med-bay in Tartarus: all sterile white walls and armed guards. His room hadn’t been much better: just a mid-sized white box with a cot and a small window for him to look out of, though there wasn’t much of a view outside. He had no idea where the fuck he was anyways.

There he had started his rehabilitation. 

It was hell. The first few months he spent there, he adamantly refused to speak to any of the doctors or physiatrists who came to work with him. Some were more persistent than others, poking their nose into his past (like he hadn’t just aired his dirty laundry out for all of Japan to witness), and those were the ones he got pissed off at the most.

In another life, Dabi would have had no qualms about turning the doctors to ash, just like he had done to everyone else who had annoyed him in the past, only; he wasn’t Dabi anymore. He wasn’t sure who he was now.

It didn’t help he had been hopped up on quirk blockers that canceled out his quirk, otherwise he probably still would’ve tried to incinerate them. But he couldn’t, and for the first time in his life, Touya Todoroki was fucking cold.

Turns out his quirk did a wonderful job of insulating him against the ice he kept hidden inside his chest all along.

He supposed he couldn’t blame them for rendering him quirkless while at the facility. Hell, he’d render himself quirkless if he was a staff member, having to deal with someone like him. Footage from the fight with his father and the all-out brawl with Shoto had been leaked to the public, showing his quirk’s true power in all of its devastating glory.

He had been told the aftermath of both fights had done irreversible damage to the surrounding areas, and no one was sure if they’d be able to fix the carnage he had created.

Good. The bitter, angry part of himself thought when he had been inadvertently told of the news. Suffer like I am.

He had been kept in isolation most of the time as the doctors tried to figure out what to do with him. His family hadn’t been allowed to visit him yet, and for that he was grateful – he hadn’t been particularly keen on seeing them after his recovery anyways. It was still too soon to face them, and he wasn’t ready to deal with the inevitable aftermath of what was to come. In the meantime, he still refused to respond to any of the medical staff who came to try and work with him, outside of sarcastic remarks and biting jabs that made the whitecoats squirm in their seats, much to his enjoyment.

Curiously, during one of the very few times he did speak to one of the doctors responsible for his treatment; he found himself asking about what happened to the rest of the League. Of course, no one would give him any answers aside from the fact they were alive and they were in custody.

He was more relieved than he thought he would be.

More time passed, and he still refused to open up to any of the staff who came to see him, though he had become more vocal with them – aggressively so – to the point he started to notice there was a continuous rotation of people now; it wasn’t just the same staff he was used to seeing when he first arrived at the facility.

Turns out, even the professionals were still scared of him – quirk or no quirk, his fiery reputation preceded him.

Eventually, the facility couldn’t keep cycling through their therapists, so they had switched tactics. Whether it was out of desperation, or the fact he made so many professionals break down after a session with him, he wasn’t sure, but he can’t say he regrets his actions, because in the end, he met you.

He remembers the day you met for the first time.

He had been forced out of his little cell and taken to one of the treatment rooms where he spent most of his time outside his own room. He had been shoved in there before he could make a snarky retort, and then… he saw you.

You had been sitting on the couch adjacent to the spot where he normally sat during his apptioments. He had been so stunned to see someone new, he’d been rendered silent. You’d looked up towards him, and for the first time since he arrived, you smiled at him.

“Hey.” You’d greeted him casually. He hadn’t responded, still unsure of who you were and what you were doing here instead of the usual staff.

You nodded to the couch across from you. “You wanna sit?”

He sat.

He fully expected you to introduce yourself, but you hadn’t. You’d just leaned back into the couch you were seated on and crossed your legs, giving him a content smile as you regarded him casually.

A few beats of silence passed. You didn’t speak and neither did he. A few minutes passed, then a half hour, and then an hour. Finally, one of the assistants came to bring him back to his room.

He stood up to go but you still didn’t say anything. He’d allowed himself to be taken back without a fuss but, he didn’t think anything more about it. The next day it was the same thing. He was taken out of his room back to the same treatment room, and surprisingly, you were already there waiting for him.

You gave him a little grin and nodded to the couch opposite you, and just like the last day, he sat.

Once again, you didn’t say anything, which was unusual, since all of the other doctors had always started off the conversation, but you sat in silence across from him – the gentle smile never leaving your face all the while.

A half hour of silence passed before he finally broke. “So, what exactly is this?” he remembers his voice sounding dry and scratchy after weeks of misuse. “This the part where you try and butter me so I’ll talk to you?”

You’d grinned at his remark. “No.”

“No? Then what the hell are you doing here? Is this some new technique the therapist’s showed you to try and get me to spill my guts to you? Reverse phycology or some shit?”

“Nope. None of that I can assure you. Actually, if I’m being honest, I’m not even a doctor.”

That caught his attention.

“The hell do you mean you’re not a doctor? How the are you in here then?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you later.”

He remembers being completely caught off guard by your answers, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t the slightest bit intrigued by you. He remembers squinting at you carefully – taking you in – and for the first time, he saw you. Really saw you.

He could tell that you weren’t lying to him about not being a doctor. You were dressed casually, though you were still covering up a fair amount of skin – no doubt something they told you to do ahead of time. You looked more alive than the rest of the staff in this place as well.

He was loathed to admit it, but you were pretty.

He remembers you flashing him a knowing grin, clearly able to tell he’s been shamelessly checking you out, and it was enough to make him recede back into his shell; his walls going back up once more, as he rolled his eyes condescendingly at you.

“So what’s your angle then?” He’d asked you. “You’re not a doctor but you wouldn’t be in here with me if you didn’t want something from me.”

“Would you believe me if I told you I was simply here to talk?”

That had gotten a laugh out of him. A short breathless laugh, but it was the first one he’d uttered since he’d tried to incinerate himself along with his father. It felt weird leaving his throat, foreign even, and he’d cut himself off as soon as the sound exited his mouth. So, he settled for snickering instead.

“Really now? You want to talk to someone like me? Why do I not believe that?”

You had sighed, and leaned forward so your forearms were supported on your knees, fixing him with a stern gaze. The intensity of it had made him flinch before he remembered who he was. He returned the look best he could, but it hadn’t deterred you in the slightest. Instead, you sighed again.

“Look I’ll be honest with you: the staff here filled me in on your situation. I don’t know what they’ve told you, but from how it was explained to me; your family wants you back home with them. They’ve made a bunch of deals with the authorities about getting you out of here and not spending the rest of your life behind bars, but you have to successfully go through rehab first. The reason you’re here is so they can determine that you’re not a threat to society or to yourself, but the staff don’t seem to be having much luck getting through to you, and they’re desperate. They sent out a request to bring in outside help and I applied. They picked me because we’re the same age, and well… no one else really wanted to. Turns out most people are pretty scared of you.”

“Fucking figures. And you’re telling me you’re not?”

“Of you? No.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I’m not. I’m a little nervous maybe, but I’m not scared.”

That had made him pause. He’d swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling like it was packed with cotton.

“Why’s that?” he’d finally asked you after a moment.

You had gone quiet, seemingly mulling over his question before you finally responded: “I think you have a lot to say. More than you already have, and more then what people think. To be honest, I want to hear it.”

He had laughed again, but this time it sounded forced, even to him.

“If you watched my broadcast then you know it all already.”

“Oh, trust me, I think the whole world saw your broadcast, not just Japan. No one would shut up about it for weeks. But I think there’s a lot more to you. I think a part of you wants to talk to someone else – none of that scripted bullshit – and I want to talk to you. Honestly, I think you’re pretty fascinating.”

He had been very tempted as ask you if you had a thing for villains, but he held off.

“You must be crazy if you find talking to me enjoyable. The other quacks can’t even stomach me, let alone stand to be in the same room as me for more than a few minutes. Just how fucked up are you really?”

You’d grinned and wiggled your eyebrows mischievously at him as you leaned back and spread your arms out along the back of the couch. “The only way you’re going to find that out is if you agree to talk to me. I don’t just give up all my secrets willingly you know.”

It was his turn to go quiet as he thought about your words over and over in his head, taunting him. He hadn’t been in any rush to leave the facility and go back to his old house, even if his mother and siblings were waiting for him. On the other hand, this was the most enjoyable conversation he’d had with anyone since coming to this white hellhole they called a hospital.

He figured maybe he would entertain you for a little while. If nothing else it would get you off his back.

You were lucky you were attractive.

The sound of your voice calling out his surname brought him back to the present.

“Mr. Todoroki?”

“… Fine.” He had finally relented. “We’ll see who you really are, and for fuck’s sake don’t call me that. I’m not my fucking father.”

“What do you want me to call you then?”

“D—” he stopped short. Was that his name any more? Did he get to call himself that after everything was said and done? It was the name he had given himself when Touya died all those years ago, but for some reason, saying it now just seemed wrong.

“…Touya.” He finally muttered. “Just Touya.”

You had smiled at him and for some stupid reason, it made his heartrate pick up. Just a little.

“Okay then. Touya it is. It’s nice to meet you.” You extended your left hand, and he had clumsily fumbled around for a moment before shaking your hand. As soon as your hands touched, and he felt the gentle pressure of your hand in his own, he was struck with the realization that this was the closest to human he’d felt in God knows how long. The other doctors that would come in and out of his cell treated him like he was some kind of feral animal, but you had extended your hand to him without any shred of fear or disgust. 

Once you’d both settled back into your respective couches, he’d shrugged.

“So, what now then?”

“Now we talk I guess.”

“About what?”

“I think that’s up to you. The people who brought me in here didn’t specify what we have to talk about, but I am supposed to tell you that I can’t talk to you about the UA students, politics, current or former hero’s, or the League.”

Fuck. It didn’t seem like he’d be getting any answers out of you regarding his former group either.

“…fine. Ask away, I guess.”

To his surprise, you shook your head. “Can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I’m the one doing all the asking, then we’re only going to talk about things from my perspective, which isn’t the point. The only way this is going to work is if you talk to me first.”

That’d had thrown him through a fucking loop. Ever since he had arrived at the ward, all the doctors had done is talk at him, hoping he’d respond eventually. You may not have been a doctor, but you made for a better conversation then any of them ever did.

“…Well… Where am I supposed to start?” he’d finally asked, feeling like an idiot. To his immense relief, you’d simply shrugged.

Wherever you want. From the beginning maybe? It might be easier that way.”

He remembered swallowing hard. “Alright… from the beginning then.”

He remembers pausing and looking up at you, taking you in. “What the hell is your name anyways?”

You told him with a smile, and that was how it started.

For the next year, you came to see him almost every day.

He was taken to the same room where you were always waiting for him without fail at the same time every day. Even though at that point, he’d rather choke than admit it; he began to look forward to your visits – finding that they gave him a reprieve from his mundane existence at the mental ward.

He knew the doctors were always listening and recording everything you talked about during the hour you were together, but he found he didn’t care as much as you managed to keep the meetings interesting.

True to your word, you wouldn’t talk to him about current political events, or any news related to heroes (he knew better then to ask anyways), but you were open to chatting with him about anything that he wished to talk about, even though conversations were often hard for him to start – but you were kind and patient with him, more so than anyone had ever been to him for the majority of his miserable life.

He found himself growing found of you, the little smiles you give him when he’d sit across from you, bringing a hidden grin to his own lips, though he was quick to push it down, never letting his passive façade drop for more the a few seconds, lest his supervising doctors notice and assume shit, as they tended to do.

You may not have been a licensed doctor, but you helped him more than any of the ones who worked at the medical ward did.

There was a gradual shift in your relationship as time passed. Around the six month mark he could feel it, and he was almost positive you could too.

Your conversations had become more fluid, more casual. You were relaxed as you could be around him, and he found himself opening up more and more to you without being prompted. Most times he liked to keep the conversation light, but every so often, he’d tell you bits and pieces about his childhood – before everything had gone to shit. He never bothered telling you about everything that happened after Sekoto; he didn’t want to tell you about the years he spent on the streets, or his time in All For One’s medical center with the other children turned Nomu’s, and to his immense relief, you never asked him to.

In return for his openness, you rewarded him with tidbits from your own life growing up. You didn’t name anyone specific (he couldn’t fault you on that one), but you’d tell him about your childhood and some of the adventures you’d had when you were young, well into your teen years.

He learned that you were born an only child to your parents, raised in a caring household. All the idealistic, quaint things that he had wished from his own family. He’d told you as much one day, prompting you to laugh softly.

“Not always.” You’d told him quietly. “I had my own pressure on me when I was growing up. My parents and I fought a lot. We rarely saw eye to eye – they didn’t agree with a lot of choices I made when I was younger, but it was okay aside from that.”

“Still sounds like your parents were better than mine.” He’d told you with a bitter smirk. “My dad’s an abusive asshole, and my mom—”

 It was then he realized that he struggled for words to properly describe her. Broken images from his fire fight with Endeavor had come back to him, and he remembered his mother’s fierce determination to try and cool him down – to save him – even as the heat was melting her flesh. She had thrown herself into the fray to try and stop him from ending it all without a second thought for her own safety. Up until very recently, he would’ve described his mother as weak and submissive, always bending to his father’s whims, even though he knew she didn’t have much of a choice back then, but now… that description didn’t seem to fit her anymore.

“—she used to be a doormat for dear old dad to walk over when I was a kid… but she’s changed. She’s a lot stronger than I remember her being.”

“I saw bits and pieces of your fight with… him.” You’d admitted quietly then. “I saw the aftermath. Your mom, your siblings… they all ran in to save you.”

He’d fallen quiet at that, not truly knowing what to say, but when he looked up again, you had offered him a gentle smile. “I’m sorry if this oversteps a boundary but… they never forgot about you Touya. Even if it felt like they did, they never stopped thinking about you.”

For once, he remembered being grateful that his tear ducts were permanently sealed shut, because he suddenly found himself in danger of crying. The tell-tale prickling behind his eyes caused his face to scrunch up as he pushed the thought of his mom and siblings down. He had quickly forced his expression to go back to neutral, and prayed that you hadn’t noticed the switch, but if you had, you didn’t comment on it – another thing he liked so much about you. 

Instead, you asked him something that caught him off guard.

“Have you seen them? Your family? Since you were placed here?”

“No. Didn’t think they were allowed to come here. Why?”

“I think… maybe you should let them come see you – your mom and siblings I mean. Not you know who. I don’t think you’d be doing yourself any favours.”

“Why?” He remembers pressing you. “Have you seen them?” You’d shook your head.

“No, I’ve never met them, but I think it might help if you sit down with them and actually talk to them one on one. You must be getting so bored just talking to me day in and day out.”

“No!” he remembers saying a little too quickly, causing another one of those knowing smirks to creep up your lips. “I—no, you’re fine. I like talking to you.”

“Do you not want to see them?” you had asked him seriously. “Is it too soon? I understand if you’re not ready. That’s a decision you have to make on your own. No one can make it for you.”

“… I’ll think about it.”

Because in truth: there were things he wanted to say to them, and conversations he wanted to have.

In the end, it was you who finally convinced him to let his family visit. They had been cleared to see him at the faculty a few months prior, but he had always declined a visit from them, not wanting to see them so soon, since the last time they were all together had resulted in him almost melting his mother, Fuyumi and Natsuo.

There had been strict rules set in place for his family’s visitations: only one person could see him at a time so he wouldn’t get overwhelmed. they weren’t allowed to talk about outside events with him, and finally, under no circumstance was Endeavor allowed anywhere near the faculty. He was fine with his mother and siblings coming to see him if they wished, but he didn’t want his father to be anywhere near him.

He wasn’t ready to see him again so soon. Even after his apologies. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready to see his father again.

Thankfully the faculty had minimal difficulty honoring his last wish, as it seemed that Enji didn’t want to be around him either – or maybe he was purposefully keeping his distance. Either way, the old bastard wasn’t around him, and he figured it was for the best.

Once again you had been right; seeing his family again had been as cathartic as it had been terrifying.

There had been tears (from his family – he still was unable to cry), and there had been a lot of long, overdue heart-to-heart conversations with them of things that should’ve been said long ago.

It had been hard to sit down and listen to each of his family members without feeling the intense urge to get up and run when the guilt became almost unbearable, but he had forced himself to sit through it all for their sakes (and even his own), and soon he found himself scheduling more visits with his family, as well as seeing you for your daily interactions.  

You never prompted him to tell you how his now daily visits with his family went, but he’d told you anyways – not what was discussed, that would stay with him – but he had told you about his favourite visit. Hilariously, it had been with Shoto; something he never thought he’d ever say.

He’d told you about how Shoto had brought him lunch from the outside the day before. It wasn’t anything special; just piping hot udon noodles with vegetables in pork broth. They had sat down in silence and eaten together, sharing a meal for the first time in their lives. Nothing had been discussed, and yet everything had been said.

It had been nice. Comfortable, even.

He remembered telling you with a soft smile on his face, and you had pointed it out, causing him to scoff and wave you off.

“It’s better food then the shit they feed me in this prison. Seriously, that was the best meal I’ve had in a long time.”

“Well, once you’re cleared to leave, I’m sure you’ll be able to eat all the udon you want with your brother.” You’d told him as you tucked your feet under you. He’d shrugged, brushing you off, but you were ever observant, and had called him out on it.

“Do you not want to go back to them once you’re able to leave this place?”

It was a simple question in theory, but it wasn’t easy to answer.

He’d shrugged again. “Don’t really know if I can. Not after everything. I won’t go back if he’s there.”

“I don’t think they’d push so hard for you to come back to them if he was.” You reasoned with him gently. “Where would you want to go, if not there?”

You and your questions. Most of the time they were harmless, but sometimes they really made him think. Unfortunately, he hadn’t had an answer for you at that point, and you had quickly switched the conversation topic.

At that point, he’d be lying if he said he was thinking about what he’d do once he was released. Truth be told he hadn’t thought about it much at all. To him, it felt like he’d be in the psychiatric ward for the foreseeable future. He had no real plans for what he’d do once he was out. Maybe he would go back to his old house with his family, or maybe he’d try staking out on his own since that was what he was used to, if he was even allowed to go off on his own. He wasn’t sure what he’d be able to do once he was let out – but he certainly wouldn’t be free, he knew that much.

Maybe he’d try and reconnect with the League – assuming that any of them were even allowed to be released from custody.

It still bothered him on some level that he had no idea about what happened to them after the dust had settled. He had been carted off the battle field before any of them, after his attempt at going nuclear failed, and had been in and out of the hospital and the physiatrist wing ever since.

When he had first arrived, he’d asked the staff about what had happened to the remainder of the League, but they hadn’t told him anything aside from the fact they were alive – but he wasn’t sure how much of that he believed.

The only one he’d really trusted in the whole building was you. He knew you weren’t allowed to talk to him about any villains or heroes, but maybe if he asked you discreetly, you’d be able to tell him something more than what the medical staff had. He didn’t want you to get in trouble, but the curiously was eating away at him. 

Finally, one day he risked it, and asked you if you knew anything about the fates of his former teammates.

You had paused after he’d voiced his question, and went quiet for a moment, seemingly debating on what you could say to him. For a moment you looked like you were almost about to tell him that you couldn’t say anything, but the look on his face must have been desperate enough that you cracked.

You had given the cameras in the room an unreadable look before sighing loudly. “I don’t know where they are exactly. I never looked into it, and it isn’t public knowledge anyways.” You told him gently. “What I do know is that they’re alive, and they’re in different treatment centers receiving help. I know they were beaten badly and some of your friends almost died – but as far as I know, they’re doing okay.”

You’d then sat straight back up on your chair and loudly proclaimed, “I’m pretty sure I’m allowed to say that much to him, right? Don’t take it out on him or me once we’re done here.”

It wasn’t the answer he was hoping for, but at least they were alive, and were in similar situations to him. It made him feel slightly less alone.

When the timer beeped shrilly, signaling that your hour was up, you had stood up to leave just as you always did, but before you could say goodbye to him, he’d quickly lunged forward and grabbed your hand, incasing it with his large cold one.

You’d stared at him in shock, as he’d never made a move to touch you once in the six months, you’d been visiting him, but before any of the guards could rush in and pull him off, he’d let your hand drop, but not before muttering a quiet “thank you” under his breath to you, before backing off and allowing the armed guard to escort you out of the room.

He distinctly remembers feeling the pressure of your small hand in his own, but he hadn’t been able to feel anything else aside from that. He hated it. He suddenly found himself hating that all of the nerves in his body had been severed, rendering him unable to feel anything. He couldn’t feel the texture of your skin against his own, or if your hands were cool or warm like his.

He was forced to admit to himself that for the first time since he’d left the hospital; he wanted to feel something again.

He wanted to feel you. But he couldn’t, and it aggravated him more than anything.

There was another thing he remembered distinctly about that day as you were leaving him behind: For the first time since you had started your daily interactions with him; you had looked back.

You had looked at him like you were seeing him in a different light.

He didn’t see you for a few weeks after that. When he had been pulled from his cell, and into the room where you usually met him, he was instead greeted by several doctors that had overseen his treatment when he first arrived.

He had asked them where you were, and when they refused to answer his question, he had immediately become hostile and threatening. The walls that were slowly starting to lower since he first met you went straight back up, and Touya turned into Dabi once more.

For the first time in roughly seven months, he lashed out (quirk be damned), and was immediately taken back to his room and put on lockdown. He wasn’t allowed visitors, and the only times he was allowed to leave his cell was to go back to the same room with the same doctors who poked and prodded him – asking him increasingly invasive questions, until he shut his mouth and refused to speak to them once more. One last act of defiance on his end since he still didn’t have use of his quirk.

When it had become apparent to the doctors and specialists that he refused to speak to any of them, they stopped taking him out altogether. He spent countless hours staring out the tiny window in his room, basking in the weak sunlight and taking in the menial views he could see from his window.

He had wondered where you had gone; if you had been forcefully sent away after he had asked about the League. He hoped that wasn’t the case – he liked you, probably more then he should if he was honest with himself – and you were just about the only person he could actually carry on a conversation with in this shitty place.

A few more weeks in solitary had him about to snap. He had reached a point where he was about to try and strike a deal with the overseeing doctors about bringing you back if he answered their shitty questions, when one of the armed guards opened up his door and guested for him to follow.

Once again, he had been taken back to the same observation room, but to his pleasant surprise; you were there waiting for him.

You had beamed at him and before he could think about what he was doing, he had crossed the room towards you in three long strides until he was standing directly in front of you. He had begun to lift his hand up towards you, only for his action to halted by a curt bark from the guard who was still standing at the door. You had shaken your head, motioning to the guard you were fine and sent him on his way. As soon as the door had closed, he rounded on you.

“You left.”

You had nodded, a small, sad smile on your lips. “I did, yes. Not really by choice though.”

“Why did you go?”

You’d barked out a laugh. “I’ll be honest, the supervisors weren’t too happy with me when I told you about the League. I broke one of their rules, so they told me I had to go for a bit.”

He’d narrowed his eyes, confused. “But now you’re back.”

You’d given him a slight smirk. You turned to sit down on your usual spot on the couch, but this time, instead of having him sit across from you, you’d gestured for him to sit beside you, which he’d done so embarrassingly fast.

“You’re very stubborn.” You’d told him with a light laugh. “From what I was told, you refused to talk to anyone after I left – heard you got downright nasty with some of the staff, and they put you on probation. They called me a few days ago almost begging me to come back. Guess they felt you made the most progress when you were talking to me.”

You’d given him a look that was hard for him to read. “Why did you snap at them?”

He figured there was no point in lying to you – you’d find out somehow. “Didn’t know where you went. Fuckers wouldn’t tell me, and they kept prying into my shit. Didn’t want to talk to them so they put me in solitary.”

He remembers you looking sad at his answer. “I heard you were in there for several weeks. I’m sorry. I didn’t want that to happen to you. Not on my account. I didn’t… I don’t want to be the reason your release got delayed.”

For some reason, it bothered him that you blamed yourself for what happened, and he reached out to gently take hold of your wrist. To his surprise, you hadn’t stopped him, or made any move to pull your hand away from his, so he allowed himself to rub circles into the back of your hand with his thumb, even though he couldn’t feel it.

“Not your fault. Don’t worry about when I’m getting out. It’s not like it really matters anyways.”

“Do you know why they were pushing you so much?” you’d asked quietly, still not making any more to remove yourself from his hold. He’d shook his head and you’d simply leaned into him, damn near making him freeze up in surprise at your boldness.

“They told me that they’re planning on releasing you soon – with restrictions of course – but they were thinking that you’d be able to leave here sooner than expected. That was before your outburst, but if you’re willing to just hear them out and answer their questions, it’ll help speed up the process.”

“They seriously think that I’m fit to send out into society again?” he remembers scoffing, hardly believing what he was hearing. “Pretty sure the majority of them think I’m an irredeemable sociopath.”

“They’ve seen the way you act around me and your interactions with your family. You’re not perfect, but you’re trying, and sometimes that’s all you can do.”

“You do realize I have killed people, right? I’ve maimed countless others. They’re… not exactly wrong about me.”

Surprisingly, you’d simply rolled your eyes at his statement, acting like he’d just told you the sky was blue. “Of course I know that Touya. I’m not overlooking what you did. But they—your family – are fighting hard to try and get you another chance, a fresh start. They think you deserve it, and they’re out there right now, day and night, trying to convince others that you deserve a second chance too.”

You had twisted your hand in his so your palms were kissing, fingers laced together, and he could feel his heart pounding in his ears as you gave him that damn smile of yours.

“You’re right: the past never dies, but that doesn’t mean that it has to be your future as well.”

That simple statement had stunned him. For the first time in a long time, he hadn’t had anything to say in response to you.

He remembers fighting an internal battle in himself, trying to find something to say to rebuttal what you were telling him. A part of him understood why his family was fighting for his uncertain future outside the psychiatric ward, but on the other hand… he didn’t necessarily believe that he deserved it.

What kind of life would he be able to have even if he was allowed to be released? He had never planned on living this long, as morbid as that was. His original goal had been to go out in a fiery hell-blaze with his bastard of a father, but clearly that hadn’t happened. He was known a global terrorist, the right-hand to the symbol of fear. His quirk was legendary for all the wrong reasons. How could he possibly be allowed to live on the outside? There was no way the rest of Japan wanted him released, let alone wandering around. What kind of future could he possibly be allowed to dream about? Did he even dare to think about it? He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about what he might do if he was ever allowed out of the ward from time to time, but now that his impending release seemed like more of a possibility; he was starting to think maybe it was better for everyone – and maybe even himself – if he stayed locked away.

Thankfully, you and your perspective nature had picked up his internal struggle. You’d leaned into him and taken his hand in both of your own, allowing him to breathe again.

“What do you want Touya?”

What did he want? Christ he wasn’t sure.

“I… don’t know. Honestly: I never planned on living this long from the get go. Everything has always been decided for me. I kinda figured that this would be the same.” He had admitted quietly, the gentle pressure of your hands on his own, grounding his rapid thoughts.

“Do you think you’re ready to leave soon?” You’d asked him gently, prompting him to laugh, a bitter, ugly thing, but you hadn’t flinched.

“No.” he’d admitted after a moment, scrunching up his nose. “Dunno if there’s much of a point. I’ll never be free. No matter where I go, I’ll always be a prisoner. What kind of life could I even have outside of here? I don’t know how to live any other way aside from how I’ve been living since I escaped that damn—” he’d cut himself off last minute, reminding himself that you didn’t know about All For One’s hellish medical facility he had woken up in, and he had no plans on telling you about that.

“I just…” he remembered breathing out hard through his nose as he tried to collect his thoughts, focusing on the faint heat he swore he could feel emanating off your hands and leaching into his cold skin. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do if they decide to let me out. Dunno if I can go back to the old house after everything that happened, and I’m not sure if I could bring myself to live with my mom or my siblings after… well, you saw bits of what happened on TV already.”

He hadn’t needed to say it for you to know that he felt a tremendous amount of guilt towards his mother and siblings – especially Fuyumi and Natsuo – for nearly charring them in the heat of battle. He may have held onto so much resentment and anger towards his family for his mistreatment as a child, but he was also self-aware enough to know that it hadn’t been their faults, and they had tried to help him in the only ways they knew how.

You had been quiet as you let him vent to you. You hadn’t said anything for a while afterwards as you mulled over what he’d told you. Finally, you had nudged his shoulder with your own.

“I think that everything you just told me is proof enough that you deserve a chance to have a life outside of these walls.” You admitted. “What you said isn’t something an ‘irredeemable sociopath’ would say. That’s something a self-aware person says. You’re not perfect Touya, but Christ if you’re not trying. I can see it, your mom, sister and brothers see it, and I think a lot of your other doctors are starting to see it too. I think there’s a point, even if you don’t think there is.”

In that moment he’d been convinced that if he could cry, he would’ve been.

“Yeah? Well, thank you sweetheart.” He’d muttered into your hair, fighting hard with himself to try and keep his voice steady. “I have no fucking idea why you’re so nice to me, but it’s… yeah.”

“I think someone needs to treat you like a normal human being, because I don’t think anyone did for a long time.” You’d looked up at him pointedly, but he’d seen traces of something else in your eyes when you’d asked him, “Did they?”

A simple flat look from him had been answer enough for you, and prompted you to squeeze his hand. “Didn’t think so.”

You’d both lapsed into a comfortable silence aside from the steady ticking of the clock, and he’d known without looking up that your time with him was coming to an end. Now, he was dreading it more then he normally would’ve been. You’d spoken up again, but what came out of your mouth next, had shocked him.

“When you’re released… If you’re still unsure of where you want to go afterwards… I could… if you can clear it with the people overseeing your progress once you’re cleared to leave… Maybe… you could come stay with me.”

He remembered staring down at you, shocked. “Is that even allowed?”

You’d shrugged in response. “I’m not sure. I think you’re going to have to initially stay with your family for a while, but if you’re really having a difficult time staying there… maybe I could work something out with your family, as long as it’s approved. It’ll probably take a while, but I can try.”

He had a difficult time allowing what you were implying to sink in. How? How could you be so trusting? To even suggest the idea of someone like him staying with you? Forget if it was even possible or not, the fact you’d even offered in the first place was mind-blowing. Before he could think about what he was saying, he’d voiced his thoughts to you:

“I’m sure your parents would be thrilled, you bringing a villain back to your home.”

You’d simply given him a small smile. “I’m sure they wouldn’t like it… if they were around that is.”

“Oh. They not in the country, or—”

“We’ll go with that.”

Ah. Seemed like he wasn’t the only one with secrets. That was fair, you were allowed to have your own. He wouldn’t pry.

“Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. You didn’t know.”

You’d both fallen back into the same silence from before. You were still leaning on him, his hand trapped in your smaller one, yet he’d made no move to remove it from your grasp. Honestly, he was shocked the guards from before hadn’t barged into the room and forced him away from you. The close proximity must have been violating a rule of some kind, and yet no one had made any move to separate the two of you, Maybe the medical staff really had been as desperate as you’d claimed, and were willing to let some things slide. Either way, he wasn’t complaining.

“You’re a lot colder than I thought you’d be… with your quirk being what it is and all.”

He’d glanced down at you, only to see you staring down at your intertwined hands. You’d squeezed the appendage again, prompting him to respond.

“It’s the quirk suppressors. Haven’t been able to use my quirk since before I got here. The quacks made it so I’m hopped up on suppressors around the clock, just in case. Turns out I’m pretty fucking cold without my flames. Must be from the ice side, but I can’t use that either.”

“Well, maybe if you keep being nice, you won’t have to be on them indefinitely.” You had tried to give him a hopeful smile, but he knew what the likelihood of that happening was, and you must have too, since you didn’t say anything else on the matter.

The timer had sounded then, signaling the visit was over. Before the guard could come to collect you, he’d quickly pulled his arm out of your grasp, and had wrapped it around you tightly, much to your initial surprise. He’d begrudgingly let you go so he could help you stand, sending the guard at the door a pointed look as he’d seen him casting an unsure look between himself and you. You hadn’t been the least bit bothered by the anxious glances the guard was trying to send you as you stood slowly and sent him one of your little smiles he’d come to expect from you.

“You’re coming back?” he’d blurted out before he could stop himself.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Same time.” You’d told him confidently as you’d turned to leave, brushing your knuckles against his. “Don’t worry Touya. I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time since someone had promised him anything in a very long time, he’d believed you.

In the end, you’d kept your promise.

It had taken close to another year before he was allowed to leave the psychiatric facility (some minor setbacks had pushed his initial release date back), but you had come to see him almost every day at the same time.

Over that time, you’d grown exceptionally close to each other, even more so from when you’d first started visiting him initially. It was almost impossible for him not to grow attached to you – you were his constant source of company, his companion. You were the one person he could tell anything to and not have to worry about being scrutinized for his thoughts. You were his safe space – something he’d never thought he’d ever say about someone else – and once he’d worked out how he saw you; it had been game over. He’d fallen for you fast and hard before he’d realized it, and by the time he did, it’d had been too late. He was hopelessly and utterly drawn to you, like a moth to a flame.

Surprisingly, you’d felt the same as him.

You’d openly admitted it to him one day near the end of his stay at the ward – even at the cost of possibly being prevented from seeing him again, since both of you knew you were crossing boundaries you hadn’t been meant to cross. He’d warned you as such, heart pounding in his ears at your confession, but you’d told him that he’d deserved to know with a simple shrug.

“Besides; if you keep up the good behavior and don’t have any more outbursts, you’ll be out before the end of the year anyways. Even if they don’t let me back after this – you can find me on the outside.” You’d told him matter-of-factly, boldly taking his hand in your own, before sending a shit-eating grin to the cameras set up around the room – knowing the doctors were monitoring every move.

He'd been certain that he could’ve kissed you right there and then.

Surprisingly, the medical staff had allowed you to continue coming back, even though it was apparent both of you cared for each other in ways that crossed professional boundaries. As much as the doctors were against how close the two of you had become, they couldn’t deny how far he had progressed since meeting you. He had gone from being the bitter, angry husk of a man, to someone who was still, and would always be forever scorned by the past, but overall, in a better place mentally.

Not too long after he’d sorted out his own feelings for you, he’d made you a surprising request:

He wanted you to meet his mother and siblings.

The meet up had taken almost a month of careful planning on the medical staff’s end, and had initially been met with some hesitation on both sides, but eventually you had agreed to it, and you’d sat down with him and the members of his family who he kept in contact with.

His father hadn’t been invited for obvious reasons.

The medical staff had allowed him out of his normal room so he could meet with you and his mother and siblings in one of the spacious sitting rooms normally reserved for guests. A row of floor to ceiling windows lined the far wall, allowing him to get a view of the outside gardens. He remembered the outside weather was slightly overcast that day but warm rays of sunshine would occasionally stream through the gray clouds, as you and his family slowly met with one another under his watchful gaze.

His mother had taken to you almost immediately, as well as Natsuo – both seemingly happy he’d bonded with someone who was relatively normal – Fuyumi and Shoto had taken a little more convincing. Shoto was more curious of you, while Fuyumi had been downright distrustful. She’d asked you right off the bat what your intensions were with him, but he’d seen right through her: she was concerned that you were somehow affiliated with the now disbanded League, or maybe even the Paranormal Liberation Front.

Thankfully, you weren’t so easily put off by her upfront questioning. You had been calm, almost amused, as you answered her questions; reassuring her that you were in no way affiliated with any criminal organizations, and how you were someone who’d been presented with an opportunity to help with his rehabilitation, and had taken a leap of faith when no one else would.

“Why though?” he remembered his sister pressing you. “Why would you want to help him even after knowing everything he’s done?”

You and him had shared a look then, and he’d known what you were thinking before you said anything.

“I guess I wanted to understand why things went so wrong.” You’d told her honestly, your shoulder brushing with his as you spoke. “I wanted to get his side of the story – the unscripted one. When the chance to talk to him in person came up, I took it. Everyone deserves to have their story told, and I wanted to hear his.”

“You’re a lot closer than just a support person to him.” Fuyumi had countered, making him bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from snapping at her to back off with her invasive questioning, knowing that he’d only land himself in trouble with the medical staff overseeing their visit if he had any outbursts.

To your credit, you’d simply shrugged, totally unbothered by her statement. “Yeah, well, that tends to happen when you see someone basically every day for over a year. Same time, same place. For as clueless as he is at normal relationships, your brother can be pretty charming when he wants to be.”

He’d been pretty sure the only reason you were outright lying to his sister was to try and make him look better in her eyes, but he almost hadn’t been able to stop the laugh that threatened to escape past his lips. Almost.

His sister had almost deflated then. Whether it was from disappointment in being unable to shake you, or relief, she’d simply nodded; finally accepting your answers.

“Well… if he’s happy… then that’s all any of us really need, I guess.”

The rest of the visitation had gone incredibly well, not that he was complaining. Plans for future meetings had been put in place, and from there, you and him had gotten into a semi-regular routine of seeing his mother and siblings, or whoever was available to come.

He never wanted to admit it to you, but the visitations you helped arrange with his family made his transition from the psychiatric hospital to his eventually moving into his mother’s new house after he’d been cleared for release, far smoother than he thought it would’ve been.

Eventually though, he was proven right about his earlier assumptions on living with his family – or rather – his mother and his siblings, again after so long:

He couldn’t do it. It felt almost wrong.

He’d felt like a ghost, wandering up and down the halls, looking at the pictures that lined the hallways of his mother’s house; comprised largely of his younger siblings. He’d watched as they had slowly grown up in each one, filling him with sense of melancholy.  

He’d missed the opportunity to watch them grow up. They’d done that without him. That was time he couldn’t get back – memories that weren’t there.

He’d felt isolated, and no amount of comfort or reassurance from his mother could change that deep-rooted feeling in him. Not even Natsuo’s constant presence in the home made him feel better, much to his younger brother’s disappointment, though thankfully he understood. 

He’d lasted two months before he’d finally cracked and called your number which you’d given him immediately after he was released. You’d both stayed in contact, texting every day (under strict monetization from police tech sectors), but you hadn’t been able to see him in person since he’d gotten out, as you’d both agreed that it would be better if he focused on trying to settle into his new home. He’d missed you terribly during that period – not used to not seeing you for such a long period of time.

He'd called you in the dead of night, and asked if your offer to have him come stay with you was still open. From there, you’d gotten in contact with the authorities in charge of his release to try and gain permission for him to come live with you, while he had the difficult task of trying to explain to his family why he couldn’t stay with them any longer than he’d already had.

As expected, you’d been met with resistance on both sides, but eventually his overseers had come to an agreement: he would be allowed to live with you, but he always had to have a tracking monitor on at all times, he had to be on constant quirk suppressors, he couldn’t leave your building without you and a Pro hero escort of some kind, and finally, he had to attend mandatory therapy sessions at least once a week, as well as call his probation officer weekly and give them updates about what he was doing. If he failed to meet any of the rules set out for him; he’d earn himself a one-way ticket to Tartarus, no questions asked.

As much as he’d wanted to argue some of what they wanted from him, he’d agreed to their stipulations, knowing full-well unless he agreed to their terms, he’d be stuck at his mother’s for the rest of his life, and while he didn’t hate living with her and his siblings, it was too awkward for him to try and face them every day, knowing his past atrocities towards the rest of the country and even them, would continue to haunt him for the rest of his days.

He couldn’t pretend that he was still the same person he was when he’d burned up at the tender age of thirteen. He was different, older, harder. Things would never be able to go back to what they’d once been, and honestly: he didn’t want them to. He couldn’t go back to living with them after such a long time apart, because he had no idea how to co-exist with them normally.

Thankfully, as much as he knew it hurt his mother to hear him express his innermost thoughts, she seemed to understand how he felt the most, and had simply told him that he was always welcome in her home, and she still wanted him to come stay with her from time to time.

“You’re my son Touya. No matter how old you get or no matter what you do, you’ll always be my baby.” She’d told him gently just before he’d left her house, wrapping him into a tight hug.

Sometimes he found himself grateful he couldn’t cry anymore. He’d just wished this side of his mother had been more prominent over ten years ago. Maybe things would’ve turned out differently if it had.

He’d seen you then for the first time in several months when you’d come to pick him up. He’d managed to keep himself calm while you spoke to his mother, but secretly he was elated to see you again after months apart. His excitement over seeing you again had probably shown on his face, since you’d made it a point to keep yourself close to him as his brothers had moved his important possessions into your car.

It was as you were talking to his mother; he’d learned that you had moved to a new apartment building some weeks ago, following the news that one of Japan’s former most wanted was coming to stay with you. Naturally, the people in your old building hadn’t been pleased, so you’d forced to switch buildings to an apartment located near several hero agencies, where the residents hadn’t been as concerned about an ex-super villain moving in, due to the multitude of patrolling heroes in the area. The change had been frustrating for you, but it was the only way he’d be able to stay with you without anyone kicking up too much of a fuss.

Eventually you’d both been on your way back to your apartment with Shoto in tow to help with moving his things into your apartment. Your new place wasn’t massive, but it had two bedrooms and a decently sized living room and kitchen. Shoto had helped him set his things up in the spare bedroom before departing, but not before giving you his number with instructions to call him if you ever needed help.

As soon as the door had shut, he’d been on you.

He’d slammed you up against the door, causing a started yelp to escape your lips, as he grinned down at you wolfishly.

“What’s the matter sweetheart? Nervous? It’s not like we haven’t been this close before.”

You’d turned beet red as you shyly traced your fingers up his chest. “No, but we certainly haven’t done this.”

He’d grinned as he dipped his head down so you and him were eye to eye. “Tell me no then. Tell me you don’t want this, that you don’t feel the same as me.”

He’d listened to your breath hitch, watching with delight as the flush deepened on your cheeks. “You wanted me to talk right? To be open with you about how I’m feeling? Well, I want you, and I think you want me too.”  

You’d looked up at him through your lashes, reaching up to lace your hand around his neck. “I do.” You’d told him gently, and your simple admission had made up his mind.

“Fuck.” He’d muttered, just before he’d dipped down and captured your lips with his.

The effect had been instantiations. His lips molded with yours, breathing in your air, as his hand cupped your cheek, long fingers curling around the back of your neck to keep you close to him.

You’d slowly peeled yourself off the door and grabbed at the collar of his shirt, pulling him with you further into the apartment, and into your bedroom. You’d managed to slam your door shut, just before he’d pushed you onto your bed – his lips never leaving yours as he pressed you further into the mattress.

He couldn’t keep his hands off you as you helped him take your clothes off. He could touch you, really touch you the way he’d wanted to for so long now. Nothing was there to hold him back, no cameras, no guards, no medical staff dictating his every move. It was just you and him.

He’d almost froze when he’d seen you’d laid out bare beneath him, soft and glowing against the pale sunshine streaming in from your bedroom window, warming your frame. You’d beamed up at him, tracing your hands up his arms.

“You can touch me.” You’d told him gently. “I trust you. Just be gentle.”

Gentle. Now that was a word he was certain he didn’t have in his vocabulary – but for you, he’d try.

He’d traced your curves gently, listening intently as your breath hitched, or how a small moan would escape past your lips when he touched a particularly sensitive area. Finally, you’d reached up to tug at the hem of his shirt, but he’d grabbed at your hands, making you pause.

“It’s not… I’m not… the scars… aren’t much better under there.” He’d tried to warn you. You’d given him a gentle smile, cupping his cheeks with your hands.

“I don’t mind Touya. You know I don’t care about all that.” You’d smoothed your thumbs over the raised skin of his face. “I love you for you. Regardless of what you look like.”

Love. You… you loved him, didn’t you? Even after everything he’d done while he was an active criminal – you’d somehow grown to love him, while most of the world hated him.

He didn’t necessarily think he was deserving of your love, but hell if he was ever going to point that out to you. He’d almost been tempted to ask you if you were a little bit crazy yourself, but you’d even told him when you had first met that he’d have to find that out for himself.

Maybe you were – just a little bit – but that suited him fine.

A normal girl would never have been able to handle him anyways.

He’d allowed you to help him out of his clothes then, and to your credit, you hadn’t batted an eye at the less than perfect skin covering his body. He may not have been held together by surgical staples anymore, and his body may not have been a mess of burnt patchwork skin like it used to be, but the new skin grafts were raised and patchy – never fully settling properly. It wasn’t often that he got self-conscience about how he looked, but you were different.

You had run your hands up and down the length of his body and marveled him like he was some work of art. He didn’t think he was, but you clearly saw him differently. You’d kissed his marred skin, and if he’d been able to cry, he would have.

You had pulled him down onto your bed and climbed on top of him, much to his surprise. He’d tried to prop himself up, only for you to gently push him back down onto your mattress, giving him a knowing smile all the while.

“Let me take care of you.” You’d whispered to him softly. “We’ll go slow. Gentle. It’s just me and you now.”

It wasn’t like he’d never fucked someone before, but it had been a while, and it was just that: he’d fucked, never loved. He wasn’t sure if he knew any other way when it came to sex, but he knew that he didn’t want to be rough with you like he’d been with his past flings, and so he had relinquished control to you.

He had allowed himself to relax into the mattress as you’d hovered above him, lining him up with your entrance. He was already painfully hard, his body reacting to yours as soon as he’d kissed you. You’d bent down to kiss his throat, relishing how he’d let out a shuddering breath as you’d sunk down onto him. He’d cursed as your tight heat had enveloped him, leaving him boneless and shaking.

He’d brought your face down to his to kiss you as you started moving, moaning as you slowly moved up and down on his shaft. You’d knocked the breath out of his lungs as you whimpered against his lips, still moving your hips against his own.

“Shit.” He’d growled as he’d reached up to wrap an arm around your hips. “Fuck baby. You feel so good. You’re so good for me.”

“You feel so good.” You’d sobbed. “I want you – want to make you feel good.”

“You do. Fuck you do. I want you. I need you.” He’d grunted as he planted his feet into your bed, pistoning his hips up into your body.

“Fuck.” You’d cried out, as you continued to bounce on his cock. “Touya!”

“I’m here. Fuck I’m here, with you. I love you.”

He’d remembered your eyes blowing wide at his confession, just before your body had stiffened up, and your mouth had opened up into a silent scream, as your orgasm had ripped through you – your end triggering his own.

You’d both stayed there for a moment, trying to regain your breath, before you’d slowly separated yourself from him. He hadn’t let you go far – pulling you down to lay beside him, and wrapping himself around you as you nestled into the broad expanse of his chest.

“Stay.” He had rasped as he held you close to him, curling around your smaller frame protectively. He’d known what he was saying was nonsensical – he was in your apartment, you weren’t going anywhere, not really – but thankfully, you seemed to understand what he was trying to say without him outright telling you. “Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere Touya.” You’d breathed, placing a kiss on the side of his temple. “You’re home now. With me.”

That simple sentence had brought him more comfort than he’d experienced in recent memory. He’d passed out sometime after with you still nude and curled into him, sharing in his warmth.

That had been the best sleep he’d had in years.

After that, he’d fallen into a steady routine of normalcy with you. You’d go to work, while he’d keep himself entertained during the day. Normally, he’d open up the windows in your living room and perch himself on the couch near them, soaking up the feeling of gentle sunbeams on his face, and watching the outside world go by as he waited for you to return later in the evening. You had set up therapy appointments for him every Thursday, and either you or Shoto would take him depending on your schedules. Life settled down, and the outside world continued on around him, even though his world now consisted of your apartment and what he could see outside from your windows.

It wasn’t a coincidence that three pro heroes moved into the building roughly a month after he had moved the last of his menial things into your apartment.

He couldn’t say that he was surprised by the less then subtle way the newly reformed hero commission chose to keep an annoyingly close watch on him, but he was still allowed some freedoms with you, so he figured he could keep his jabs to himself for the time being. 

All and all, life with you was simple easy. For the first time in his life, he could say he was appreciating the little things he never could’ve before his life had turned into a living hell.

For the first time in a very long time, he had hope – something he’d never allowed himself to have before, because what had been the point? He had fully planned on taking himself out in the final fight against Endeavor… but life was strange, and it turned out that it had different plans for him.

While he couldn’t be sure what those plans were yet, they had brought you to him, and that was enough.

He had you, and in the end, that’s all that really mattered—

-----

The sound of one of his skin care products hitting the floor snaps him out of his reprieve. He blinks, and once again, he is standing in your bathroom with the sink running, halfway through the skin maintenance routine that you forced on him once he came to live with you. 

He swears under his breath as he bends down to retrieve the plastic tube with his right arm, only to freeze as he suddenly remembers:

His right arm is gone. He tore it clean off in the brawl against his dad.

He finds it surprising how often he forgets he doesn’t have both his hands anymore. Half the time he swears that his right arm is still intact because he can feel the damn thing, only to look down and see it’s still gone from mid bicep down. You once called it a ‘phantom limb’ and he thinks you might be onto something with how often he’ll go to do something with his right, only to remind himself the arm doesn’t exist anymore.

It doesn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. Natsuo had offered to set him up an appointment to get him fitted for a prosthetic, but he hadn’t made up his mind on it yet – finding most things pretty manageable even with the lack of his right arm – but he does have days where he wishes he had all of his limbs, and there are certain tasks were having two hands would be more useful than one.

His extensive skin care routine is one of those tasks.

Hilariously, it was one of the conditions of him coming to stay with you initially: for the first time in his life, he was being forced to look after himself.

He had protested initially when you had come back home one day with a plethora of different specialty products for sensitive skin – not seeing the point – but you had insisted that he use them to take care of the newer skin grafts, telling him that if he wanted to continue to stay with you, he’d have to start properly taking care of himself, or you would do it for him.

He had begrudgingly accepted, and he gradually incorporated it into his daily routine. Realistically, he knew he didn’t have much to complain about: he didn’t have many responsibilities as it was, and you had promised him if he kept up with it, you wouldn’t tell his parole officer that you weren’t forcing him take his quirk suppressor medication – one of the conditions of his release.

He grins inwardly to himself as he turns the sink off and pats his face dry. You hadn’t seen the need to enforce that particular rule, seeing how you were quite confident he wasn’t going to burn down your apartment building, and he didn’t have any plans to – lest he be forced to return back to his mother’s home.

Besides, after spending over a year feeling unnaturally cold without his quirk, he was in no rush to return to the weak, powerless state the psychiatric ward had left him in. Even if he couldn’t use his quirk to it’s full, destructive potential like he used to, just knowing that he still had use of his quirk intact was a comfort to him.

He makes his way out of the bathroom, flicking the light off behind him and, pads over to his side of your shared closet, stripping out of his sleep clothes and pulling on a loose shirt and baggy sweats, before heading out into the small living room.

If his younger self could see how he lives now, he’s sure he would’ve turned his nose up in disgust before calling him a sell-out, and a gnarled part of him still thinks that to some level, however; when he thinks back to how he used to live on the streets for close to a decade, he’ll take the easy, comfy life-style you allow him to live in your home in a heart-beat.

He used to wonder about where he would get his next meal – now his biggest inconvenience is that he’s bored whenever you’re not at home. How the times change.

He turns on the T.V. and sets it to a low volume as he moves into the kitchen and opens the fridge, pulling out a few miscellaneous items and setting them on the counter, before getting to work on prepping the food.

He doesn’t eat much, even now his metabolism is still messed up from the years of cumulative damage his body sustained, but he found himself making food for you when he first moved into your apartment as a way to keep himself occupied while you were at work. Most of his cooking attempts consist of cup noodles, and whatever else was easy to make, but every once in a while, he’d put a bit more effort into what he made, so long as you had the ingredients for it.

He curses to himself as he painstakingly prepares an easy meal of miso soup and yaki, his lack of a right arm slowing down his progress. Eventually he finishes his meal prep and puts his creation away as he waits for you to come home, moving to his usual spot by the window on your living room couch, before sitting down and indulging in some mindless reality T.V. show.

He watches the show absentmindedly, barely paying attention to what’s playing on the screen as he basks in the warm sunlight streaming in from outside. He glances over to his left to see his reflection staring back at him from a hanging mirror across the room, and has to fight the urge to flinch at what’s staring back at him.

Even after all of the love and tenderness you allowed him to experience while living with you, he still looked rough, and there were days where he felt it more than others. He may not have been able to feel pain in the normal sense, but his body aches constantly and there are additional issues he deals with daily. 

He’s painfully aware that he probably doesn’t have a lot of time on the earth. He’s in his late twenties, too damn early to be faced with his own mortality, but he knows there’s no use in trying to dance around the subject. With his body being what it is, he’d be surprised if he made it to fifty, but he knows better than to voice that out loud. The one-time he had confessed his inner thoughts to you, you had damn near burst into tears, and he found that he couldn’t stand to see you like that, so he keeps his morbid thoughts to himself.

The sound of the apartment door opening snaps him out of his depressing reprieve. He looks up, only to see you closing the door to the apartment, hanging your keys up and kicking your shoes off.  He gets up off the couch and pads over to you, greeting you with a little smile.

“You’re home early.”

You turn around to face him, smiling. “Yeah, I finished early today. Figured I’d come back and see what you were up to.”

He snorts as he takes your bag from you, setting it down on the small bench you had set up near your front door. “Not much, you know that. S’not like I can leave the building without you or Shoto escorting me.”

You roll your eyes, gracing him with a teasing smile. “How is he anyways? You talked to your family at all recently?”

He shrugs. “Not really. You know my phone usage is heavily monitored anyways.”

“I told them that – your mom reached out to me recently – she was hoping to meet up with you for lunch soon, and she hadn’t heard from you in a bit.”

“Ah. I don’t look at my phone very often. Tell her that I’m down. I’ll reach out at some point.” He nods towards the kitchen. “I made dinner.”

You beam at him. “You didn’t have to do that.” You lean in to press a kiss to the rough skin of his cheek, and he feels his heart speed up in his chest. Even though the physical affection you gave him isn’t anything new, it’s still amazing how much of an effect you had on him.

The fire that he keeps buried in his chest flares to life as you turned away from him briefly, but he doesn’t let you go far. He snakes an arm around your middle, pulling you back to him, causing you to look up at him.

“I’ve missed you.” He mumbles quietly into your hair. You simply wrap your arms around his torso and snuggle into his chest.

“Missed you too.” You tell him quietly. He swallowed thickly, as he allowed his hand to splay further down your back.

“I really missed you; I mean.”

You smile up at him gently, wiggling your eyebrows. “Did you now?”

“Mmmm.”

His hummed response causes your grin to grow wider. “Wanna show me?”

He doesn’t humor you with a response – instead opting to take you by the hand and lead you towards your shared bedroom with teasing grin of his own. He allows you to kick the door closed behind you, before dipping down to bite on the skin of your neck, causing a giggle to escape your lips as his hands wander up and down your frame.

“Off.” He grunts, tugging on your clothes. You smirk at his demand, pulling at the hairs at the nape of his neck to get him to look at you.

“I think you could ask me a bit nicer, right?”

He rolls his eyes at you. “Please.”

“That’s better.” You smile sweetly at him, separating yourself from him long enough to shimmy out of your pants and strip out of your shirt, leaving you in your bra and panties before him.

He kisses the back of his teeth as he closes the distance between you, wrapping a muscular arm around you as he captures your lips with his rough ones. He feels you sigh into the kiss as you wrap your arms around his neck.

It wasn’t often that he initiated physical contact like this – he not shy by any means, but he’s not used to having such close relations with another person. He’d been a loner for such a long time after escaping the hospital, and any physical contact he somehow managed to receive from woman he’d met in sketchy bars during those miserable years had never been meaningful or fulfilling. He wasn’t used to being wanted.

But you wanted him, and you weren’t shy about letting him know just that.

He had no problems letting you remind him of the latter.

He feels your hands travel down from around his neck to the bottom of his shirt, tugging on it. “Off please.” You murmur against his lips, and he separates from you long enough to yank his shirt off, before coming back to embrace your soft body with his own hot one.

He presses you back against the bed, gently pushing you down to lay on the mattress as he hovered above you. He dips back down to seal his lips with yours, as he feels your fingertips trail down the rough skin of his stomach until they reached the waistband of his sweats. He smirks as he feels you undo the drawstrings and push them down his slender hips, pushing them down low enough for his cock to spring free.

“Seems like you’re just as eager as me.” He sniggers as he sits up long enough to shuck them off, giving you a moment to unhook your bra and toss it across the room.

You don’t humor him with a response as you sit up to stroke his cock, causing him to hiss as your fingers wrap around his shaft. He lets you have your way for a moment before gently pushing you back down onto the mattress, causing you to look up at him quizzically as he shakes his head.

“Not today babe, let me do the work.”

He feels his heart pound in his ribcage, as a look of realization passes over your pretty features. A smile pulls at your lips as you open your arms and beckons him down to you, which he eagerly accepts. He nips and kisses the skin of your neck as he makes quick work of your panties, causing you to moan softly as he runs his fingers up the length of your dripping slit.

“God.” He groans as he attacks your lips again. “So, fucking wet for me. You want me, right?”

“Yes Touya.” You breathe against his lips, allowing your fingers to trace patterns into the scarred expanse of his back. “Always. Always you.”

He feels his destroyed tear ducts sting slightly at the sincerity of your confession. Even though you’ve assured him you only want him countless times before, it was something he never quite got used to hearing.

The entirety of his life before you was spent in fire and hardship. Kindness was something foreign to him, and being allowed to be vulnerable with another person was something he never even considered. He never thought he’d live long enough to be able to do so regardless – accepting that he destined to spend what was left of his life alone – and so the thought had never crossed his mind.

But he wasn’t alone. Not anymore. Not since you had unexpectedly come into his life.

He had you. Body, mind and soul, he belonged to you. He knew there was no way he would ever have the words to tell you that, so he hoped that he could convey his message clearly enough by showing you just how much you meant to him.

He taps your leg, getting you to wrap your legs around his lean waist, as he lines himself up with your opening. You thread your fingers through his soft white spikes as he slowly begins to push himself into your pussy, causing you to whimper as he begins to stretch your walls out.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He growls as he bullies his way into your tight heat. “You’re perfect for me. Just you – you’re the only one I want.”

“Me too.” You gasp as you dig your nails into his shoulder to ground yourself. “I’m so glad I got to meet you. S-so glad you’re here with me—”

Your eyes open impossibly, as he suddenly snaps his hips forward and drives himself home deep inside your walls, causing you both to moan. He barely gives you any time to recover before he starts moving. He fists his hand in the sheets beside your head as he focuses his energy into keeping his thrusts deep and strong, just how he knows you like it.

He grins down at you almost sadistically, watching as your eyes roll back from the force of his thrusts. “S’matter? Don’t tell me you’re giving up already?”

“N-no.” you moan as he gives you a particularly hard thrust. “I just—oh, fuck!” you wail as you feel him hit a practically sensitive spot inside you, causing him to grin wickedly.

“Eyes on me gorgeous.”

“You’re mean.” You huff, but center your attention on him regardless, causing him to chuckle, and reward you with another harsh thrust.

“I know.” He practically purrs as he shifts his weight to his knees. He grabs the meat of your hip, and starts pounding you harder than before, making you keen and fist your hands into the sheets as his pelvis brushes up against your clit deliciously.

“Fuck, Touya! I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum!” you cry out, warning him of your impending release, but it only makes him double down and fuck you harder, determined to see you climax before him.

“Yeah? Well, go ahead sweetheart: come on this cock. C’mon, c’mon; I know you’re going to, I can feel you squeezing me just right, so do it. Let go for me pretty girl, just let go.”

He feels your walls convulse around him and your back arches slightly off the bed as you climax with a desperate cry at his words. The sight of you coming undone beneath him is so hot it does him in a few strokes later, spilling deep inside your walls with a feral growl of his own.

You both stay like that for a few minutes, fighting to catch your breaths, before you unlock your legs from around his waist, allowing him to pull out of you. He pulls back to grin at the combination of your fluids that leak out from in between your legs, and you roll your eyes. He makes a move to the bathroom to grab you a towel, only for you to shake your head.

“Later.” You murmur, as you pat the spot on the bed next to you. “Come lie with me for a few minutes.”

He laughs quietly at your antics, but obliges your request, and climbs over you to collapse into the vacant space on the bed next to you, and you don’t hesitate to move over to him. 

“God, you can be relentless sometimes.” You pant as you curl up into his side. He simply snorts at your assessment as he drapes his arm around you protectively.

“Maybe. I am a villain after all sweetheart.”

“You were.” You manage to grumble as you make yourself comfortable, eventually settling on resting your head on his chest so you can hear his heartbeat. “You’re not now.”

“Yeah, well. Attitude never changed. Surprised you put up with me for as long as you did.”

“You weren’t so bad.” You murmur softly, tracing shapes into the rough skin of his stomach. “If I thought you were, I wouldn’t have come back after we first met.”

“Why did you come back after the first time anyways? I can’t remember if you ever told me.” He suddenly raises his head so he’s looking at you. You meet his blazing turquoise irises with a calm gaze of your own and wink at him teasingly.

“I’m crazy remember?”

“Must be, if you came to see one of Japan’s most wanted almost every day for damn near two years straight. But seriously, why?”

You’re quiet for a moment before you answer him. When you do, you shift your head slightly on his chest so you can see his face better.

“I suppose it’s because all your rage… all your anger towards the injustice of everything you’d gone through up until that point… it reminded me of myself, in a way.” You admit softly, causing him to quirk a snowy brow at your confession.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about all the things you said on your initial broadcast—" you continue on before he can ask. “—like how there were a lot of shitty things about hero society you weren’t wrong about. Honestly, for a long time there, I felt just as pissed off with some of those so-called “Pro’s” as you. Some of them were only doing it for the money and fame, you could tell.” You exhale through your nose.

“But, on the other hand, there were so many good things happening to change those problems that you didn’t see because you were on the outsider.” You fall silent for a moment before adding:

“You just seemed so hurt, so raw with everything you were saying. I told myself there and then, if I ever got the opportunity to meet you, I’d show you not everything is as bad as it seemed. Never thought I’d get the chance honestly, and yet, one day, the opportunity to meet you face to face practically dropped into my lap. How could I not take the offer?”

“Was I what you’d thought I’d be?” he finds himself asking you, not completely sure if he wants to know the answer. You simply send him one of your glowing smiles that sends tingles down to his stomach.

“No, you were better.”

He snorts, shifting his arm so he’s tracing his warm fingertips up and down your nude body. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m serious. Even now, you’re doing so much better with handling everything then I thought you would. You’re resilient, and you adapt when you need to, but you’ve definitely changed… in a good way. You’re not as hateful anymore… you’re calmer, more accepting.”

“Yeah well, the shrinks have you to thank for that. Far as I’m concerned, they don’t do anything. I just see them so I can stay with you.” He grumbles, prompting you to giggle, before shifting you so you’re lying on your sides, facing each other.

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, inwardly softening as he watches you lean into his warm touch, before dropping his hand back down in between your bodies.

“I know I’m not very good at these sorts of things, but… you know I love you, right?”

He’s hopeful that you understand. He doesn’t say it often to you, and he knows he probably should, but even after all the time he’s spent with you, that involves you showing him what a healthy relationship looks like, it’s still not an easy thing for him to say. Hell, he has a hard enough time saying it to his own mother, let alone anyone else.

He’ll probably always have a difficult time admitting it. Love is an emotion he’s never had a good understanding of, seeing how it was so sked for him a s a child. Even now, the concept is a foreign one for him to understand, but thankfully, you seem to be more aware of this than anyone else.

You find his hand with one of your own and lace your fingers together, squeezing it tightly.

“I know Touya. I’ve always known.”

FIN

[smutinlove]

Have you done any Jealous Dick or Jason, like they are yet to date the reader, or someone is hitting on their girl. (if you do female readers, otherwise GN works. Just as a girl, I think girl for gender for when I read things)

or what about fake dating trope?

Or they got drunk while on a mission in Vagas and end up married and don't find out until the marriage certificate comes in the mail. (you could do this twice, one where the boys have a crush on the reader or it is done enemies to lovers style)

doing the second one because it's ICONIC.

dick x fem reader.

i dont know what a marriage certificate looks like btw

Las Vegas was iconic. The bright city lights, the drinking, the partying... etc. Everything about Vegas was amazing. I mean, you would definitely remember, right?

Wrong. You and Dick had gone to Vegas undercover. You remember arriving at a hotel, and then, after that, you couldn't recall anything.

Neither could Dick. But he did remember a sound. It was like a loud and obnoxious bell, he described.

Currently, you and Dick sat in the living room of his apartment, trying to recall all the events that you two had forgotten about.

"So there were loud noises, right?" Dick asked. "Duh! It's Vagas. Everything is loud, Dick!" He rolled his eyes.

"Wait, so, we were supposed to just get intel on this man named "Joe Johnson," right? How'd we fuck that up?" You buried your head in your hands.

Dick sighed. "You know what? We need to go to bed. I'll drop you off at your place, 'k?" You nodded, knowing he was right. The fucker was always right.

"Thanks, Dick," you said. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a comforting hug. "Stay safe, alright?" He pulled away and watched as you entered your apartment building.

He couldn't help but grin as he opened his car door and drove away. Dick couldn't recall every little detail that happened a few weeks ago, but he knew that something between you and him happened. And he was Dick Grayson; he knew everything.

You tossed and turned in your bed before reaching for your phone on the bedside table. You turned it on, only to be greeted with dozens of texts, cryptic emails, and missed calls. You gasped.

You immediately called him back, and you weren't even surprised when he answered on the spot.

"Where are you?" He asked through the phone.

"Home. What's wrong? What happened, Dick? The emails you left me... The texts," you explained.

You could hear him frowning. "Just come over, okay? It's easier to explain in person." You sighed. "Fine, I'll be there in twenty," you said before ending the call.

You knocked on the door of Dick's apartment. He opened the door, noticing that you were soaked.

He quickly forced you inside. "Sit, fuck."

He wrapped his jacket around you and poured you some hot coffee. "Are you alright?" Dick asked. His cheeks were red, but his eyes were filled with genuine worry.

"I'm great," you replied, giving him a reassuring tap on the shoulder. "Anyway, what's up? You called me several different times."

He sighed. "Give me a minute," he said before getting up and leaving you alone in his living room.

A couple of minutes passed before he entered the living room again. But this time, he had something with him. It was an envelope.

"Open it. See for yourself," said Dick in a tired voice.

You took it from him and opened it. There was a piece of paper. You skimmed over it, seeing your name, then his, then the word "marriage."

You gasped. You had legally married Dick Grayson and had no memory of it. "Dick, what else?" you asked as you re-read the piece of paper over and over, hoping for something new to appear.

"I searched the internet. I even asked Oracle and Batman for help," he sighed. "I saw CCTV footage of us walking into a church, and a few hours later, we exited together. It's easier to show."

He took your hand and led you into his "area of operations," aka his computer, tucked in a tight corner.

Dick turned it on and dug into a few files before he started showing you masses of footage and pictures. He had managed to wipe them off the internet, because if anyone (with bad intentions) found out, the two of them would be in danger.

But obviously, he kept a secret file.

By the time you had skimmed through the footage, your lips had parted away from the frown. You sighed and looked at Dick. "This is such a shock," you finally managed to mutter.

"I know," he said, looking deeply into your eyes; it felt like he could see your soul. "Dick," you muttered. He nodded, motioning for you to continue. "I'm so scared but confused and nervous. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know how to feel." You sighed.

"This is all shocking." A tear slid down your cheek. Dick's thumb reached out, wiping it away. "Pretty girls shouldn't cry," he whispered softly. He leaned in and lifted your chin.

"I'm pretty?" You questioned. "You're the prettiest woman, love."

Within a blink of an eye, his lips found their way onto yours. He didn't care that you were still wet from the rain. He enjoyed your company.

His hands were tangled in your hair.

The two of you shared a passionate kiss before pulling away. "I've had a crush on you for a while now," he blurted out, his cheeks red. Dick was clearly trying to avoid your gaze.

"I mean, you're pretty... cute yourself."

"Just cute?" Dick questioned, tilting his head.

"Maybe more than that."

WILD. dick is the only man that'll ask you to come over and then say "give me a minute" by the time you're in his living room

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Derin you had a post a while ago (at least several months ago if not more than a year) where you detailed a calendar system that was extremely well thought out and sounded really practical. Something about the months being segmented so that the days of the week would be predictable (ie the 1st of the month is always a monday or something like that). all the months were the same length i think there was 13 or 14 of them and there were provisions for free days around new years and leap days and all. it was just a fantastic system i saw it and was like i would switch to this calendar system in a heartbeat.

but i cannot for the life of me find the post. i would like to find it. i am trying to work out a schedule for my newly-self employed life and our current common western calendar system is just really stupid in a lot of ways. do you have your derin calendar system to hand or do you know how to find the post. it was so good!! i would like to see it again at least for some inspiration for how to organise my life!! i would really appreciate some help with this <333333 thanks in advance!!!

You might be talking about the Time to Orbit: Unknown calendar, which works thusly:

Six days per week

Five weeks per month, giving 12 30-day months for a total of 360 days

A "thirteenth month" rest period at the end of the year of five days (six for leap years)

The advantages of this calendar should be obvious:

6 day weeks are better than 7 because they can be easily divided by 2 or by 3. There's a lot of things that people do every second or every third day, or that they want to spend half a week doing; 6 days makes for MUCH easier scheduling. Whoever decided the number of days in the week should be a prime number was a fucking idiot.

Even months also, obviously, make for much easier scheduling.

Every month within a year starts on the same weekday. If Jan 1 was a Tuesday, Feb 1 and March 1 will also be Tuesdays. Again, this makes for easier scheduling -- there's a lot of events that take place on "the second Wednesday of each month" and stuff like that, and it's also much easier to remember if the 14th is going to be on a weekend or not if it's the same throughout the whole year.

A 5 or 6 day transitional period at the end of the year makes for a very convenient rest and reset period, a "new year's week" that can be an extended public holiday that fits naturally into the calendar and gives everyone a chance to prepare for a new year. I think the cultural and psychological benefits of having an extended New Year holiday baked into the calendar would be large.

[missmatchablossom]

Gojo x Reader Royalty AU

summary: you are a princess in an arranged marriage with the crown prince of the country, satoru gojo. when you finally come of age and move into his palace, the two of you are forced to spend time together as the future queen and king of the nation. the future king definitely seems to have a thing for you though.

a.n: the intro is a bit long but gives some context to the story! feel free to skip right to the dialogue. also, this was totally inspired by the kdrama "Princess Hours" or "Goong" if anyone remembers that lol

Part I. 

Intro 

It’s been officially two months since you became officially engaged to Satoru Gojo, the nation's crown prince. Two months since you uprooted your entire life to live in his palace of gold and glamour, spending your days slaved to lessons about your royal duties. 

It was your grandfather's wish; he was the one who promised the hand of his granddaughter to the future crown prince of the nation, solidifying your position as queen before you were even born. 

That’s how you ended up betrothed to Prince Suguru, the crown prince of the nation. At least he was, up until he abdicated one year ago. It wasn’t clear what happened, only that it was a sudden decision that still left the country reeling. By law, his younger brother Prince Satoru inherited his spot, and by proxy the right to marry you.

Once you officially became of age, you moved to live at Gojo’s palace with him. You had both been so busy the past two months that there was barely a second to talk, but tonight would be different. Tonight was your first public event as a couple. 

~

Evening had just fallen, and the palace was buzzing with preparations for a charity ball being hosted. Major politicians and other royal figures would be in attendance, and it was the first social event where you and Gojo were expected to greet everyone as a couple. 

The hours you spent getting ready flew by, and before you knew it you were being led to the entrance of the ballroom, where Gojo was waiting for you. 

The clicking of your heels alerted him to your proximity, prompting him to swiftly turn around to gaze at you. He was a dream, dressed in a navy suit with gold accents. The crown atop his head was a sophisticated array of cerulean jewels, the perfect match to his eyes. It was so swift you almost didn’t catch it - the way his eyes widened, the way his jaw slacked ever so slightly. But you blinked and the vestiges of his surprise were gone, replaced by the disarming smile he had around you. Around everyone. 

“You look lovely princess,” he commented easily, lifting your gloved hand to his lips. 

It was a casual greeting - you knew that. But it was hard to reason with your heart beating wildly in your ears. 

“Thank you. You are dashing tonight your highness,” you complimented back, gathering the satin around your legs to give him a curtsy.

He nodded his thanks, carefully placing your hand in the crook of his elbow as you both turned to the double doors leading to the ball. It was time for your grand entrance as the crown prince and princess, future king and queen of the country. 

You couldn’t help but think of the ruthless stares of all the guests this evening, judging every step you take, every breath you breathe. Your fingers turned to ice as your nerves began to rise, body becoming rigid as you prepared to steel yourself. 

“I’m with you.” Gojo said, lips touching the shell of your ear. His warmth drove away your nerves, causing your body to buzz with his nearness.

You turned to flash him a grateful smile, which he returned with a squeeze against your fingers. 

The ball went off without a hitch, following your grand entrance. You were almost immediately pulled in several directions following Gojo’s lead, smiling gracefully at each new person you were introduced to. 

Almost everyone fawned over the two of you, sweetening your ears with flattery. But every compliment was backhanded, sprinkled in to soothe over their real sentiments.

“My, you look amazing together! It’s too bad about Prince Suguru, he was so outstanding.”

“His Highness Suguru was a fine prince, it must be hard to be cast in his shadow, you poor thing.”

“It must be hard to suddenly have all the roles of the crown. Please do reach out if you need my support, I imagine you’ll need it. But do not worry, I pledge my loyalties to the two of you.”

Each comment burned at your throat, even if they weren’t directed at you. You would’ve said something, but Gojo handled himself better than you would’ve in this situation. 

The confidence with which he spoke, the proud set of his shoulders, the ease with which he fielded all questions, it was as if being crown prince was his birthright. It was like each jab at him lit a fire in his eyes, and he somehow made each person leave the conversation feel stupid for questioning him. 

People attempted to belittle you as well, but you quieted them with the same ease as Gojo, which earned you a smile and side-eyed glance from the prince the first time he saw you do it. 

The ball ended, and thankfully the amount of nobles approaching you quickly diminished once they learned they couldn’t shake you two. 

When you bade your last farewell, you both seemed to exhale deeply at the same time, turning to look at each other. He still somehow looked like he just got ready, despite hours passing since the ball began. His silver hair remained set perfectly, not a strand out of place. The shine in his cerulean eyes did seem a bit dimmer, though.

He stared at you with the same intensity, then placed his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall, catching you off guard with how little space there was between you two.

“See something you like princess?” he said. His lips were curved, his voice silken in the late hours of the night. How this man had the energy to flirt with you after the night you had was beyond you.

Normally, you’d shrink away from a comment like that. But you felt a rush of confidence after standing your ground against all the nobility at the ball today. So you mirrored his position, leaning up and tilting your head so you were only a foot away from his face. 

“I do, actually,” you said, grinning as you caught the widening of his eyes. He blinked a few times, as though he struggled to compose himself.

“Are they always like that?” you asked, feeling brave. He raised a brow, and you elaborated.

“Belittling you, always bringing up Prince Suguru,” you said.

He hummed, looking away for a second. 

“Yes. They’ve always vocalized their preference for him. They do it now to get a rise from me, to see me ruffled.”

“Why?” you asked. His eyes slid back to you, and you couldn’t look away from the intensity in them.

“Suguru was trusting - easier for them to manipulate. But they were never able to control me. They’re afraid of me.” he said, smirking like the thought pleased him so. He stared down at you, studying for your reaction.

“Should I be afraid of you?” you asked curiously, tilting your head at him. He reached a hand towards the side of your face, twirling a loose strand of hair around his finger.

“After I saw you handle them in there, I’m starting to think I should be afraid of you,” he said, tucking the strand behind your ear, eliciting a shiver out of you. The smirk never left his face.

You felt the blush creep up your cheeks as you answered.

“I’m glad you’re aware,” you said, the smile evident in your voice.

The sudden chiming of the grandfather clock caused you to jolt in place, and you swear you heard Gojo stifle a laugh.

“It’s midnight,” he stated, and you noticed him reaching a hand up to his temple, his knuckles making small circles against his skin.

You yawned, finally realizing how tired your body was after your long day.

“I’ll walk you to your room,” he offered, and you nodded, trailing after him.

You smiled to yourself as you watched his posture immediately change now that you were alone. He slouched his shoulders and crossed his arms behind his head, almost leaning back as he took languid steps beside you. His legs were so long that it would’ve taken ages to catch up with him if he wasn’t walking so slowly.

You reached up to yank the tiara out of your hair, shaking it free of the tight updo that was pulling at your scalp. His eyes studied you curiously as you noticed him kneading his temple once more.

“Headache?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Yeah, my eyes are sensitive to light. The bright lights inside the ballroom give me headaches,” he replied.

You mulled over the words you were about to say, thinking it was probably too forward of you. 

“I know a remedy for headaches. Wanna try?” you asked anyways, heart thumping in your ears. 

He looked at you curiously, an easy smile on his lips and he nodded.

“Alright, I’ll need somewhere you can lay down,” you said quietly, hoping the evening hid the blush on your cheeks. He raised his brows, chuckling a bit.

“I have a couch inside my study. It’s a few doors down,” he said, nodding towards another door.

You reached it quickly, following him into a sizable room. He flickered on a couple of lights, encasing the room in a soft glow. A black desk stretched across one side of the room, right in front of a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf that covered the entire wall. A large sectional was positioned in front of his desk, the black leather complimenting the other black and navy accents of the room. His rich sandalwood scent was filling your senses, intoxicating you with him.

He closed the door with a soft click, and you suddenly became aware that you were alone behind closed doors with the devastatingly handsome Prince Gojo. 

He smiled slowly, making no move to approach you first as he stood by the door.

“How do you want me?” he drawled, causing your eyes to widen a bit. 

For the headache remedy. He was talking about the headache remedy, nothing else.

You pressed your lips together, turning to seat yourself at the end of his sofa. Smiling shyly at him, you patted the tops of your thighs.

“You’ll have to place your head in my lap, if you’re okay with that,” you said.

You could’ve sworn you caught his eyes widening ever so slightly, but he recovered quickly and gave you a small smile. 

“I don’t mind,” he said, and he settled himself next to you on the couch and leaned down towards your lap. You wanted to laugh at how truly long he was, his lithe body filling up almost all of the sofa, but you were too distracted.

Distracted by how his silvery hair felt like silk against your thighs. Distracted by the smell of sandalwood filling your space with his close proximity. Overwhelmed by how ethereal he was up close, like the most acclaimed artists would spend their whole lifetimes trying to create someone as lovely as him.

“Like this?” he said, and you noticed his thumb rubbing over his pulse point again. 

You bit back your smile and nodded. 

“Close your eyes, please,” you asked, and he complied. You sucked in a breath as you admired how long and full his lashes were. It was so unfair, actually.

You gingerly reached your fingers towards each side of his temple, drawing gentle circles. 

He let out a sigh as he leaned into your touch, his features relaxing.

“Feels good?” you asked, chuckling to yourself. 

“Mhm,” he said, not even bothering to open his eyes or use his words. 

You sat in comfortable silence, massaging his temples and willing his headache to go away. 

“I know it hasn’t been long since we’ve been engaged, but you can talk to me, you know. About the Sugru stuff, or anything else that might bother you. I’ll listen,” you said quietly. 

His eyes opened slowly, and you stopped your ministrations, letting your hands pause besides his face. He reached a hand up to grasp one of yours.

“Are you upset that your engagement to him broke off?” he asked evenly, not revealing his feelings toward the matter.

“No,” you answered truthfully. Gojo’s slight exhale almost made you smile.

“I didn’t interact with him much, to be honest. I can’t say I really knew him,” you continued.

“I want to know you though,” you added shyly, and his cerulean eyes flicked to yours. He smiled brilliantly, and you realized it was the first time you truly saw him smile.

“I’ll tell you anything,” he replied, gently guiding your hands to move back to his temple in a wordless command. You were more than happy to obey.

“Okay. Favorite dessert?” you asked, your fingers at his temple again.

“Kikufuku. But I’ll eat anything sweet. You?” he replied, his eyes still closed.

“Anything matcha. But I also love strawberries and nutella,” you said, pleased as he hummed his approval.

“Favorite color?” he asked.

“Hmm, navy and sage green. You?”

“I like all shades of blue. And black, and white,” he said, and you laughed, eyes scanning that exact color palette in this room.

“I can tell,” you said, and he opened his eyes to smile boyishly at you.

The two of you continued to go back and forth, time escaping you as you discovered new things about each other. 

You mused over the new information you had about your fiance. He likes cats, romance movies, and plants - especially ones with pretty flowers. His favorite food is udon, and he can’t stand peas. He has an enormous family, but he’s only close with a younger cousin named Megumi. He looked especially happy to be talking about messing with him, and you hoped to meet him soon.

“Do you ever feel scared about becoming king?” you dared to ask, feeling the tiniest bit closer to him after playing 20 questions.

He looked thoughtful for a while, and you ceased your massage on his temple.

“I know I have what it takes to be the greatest King this country has seen in a long time. And I have every intention to become just that, for my people and for me,” he said solemnly, spoken with the confidence and pride of a true royal.

“It’s rare, but I do feel scared sometimes. I never thought I’d have to do this alone,” he admitted after a while, his brows furrowing slightly as he appeared lost in thought.

“What do you mean?” you pressed gently. 

“Suguru was supposed to be King, I knew that. We had the same vision to grow up and make our kingdom the most powerful, to rule together. But he changed suddenly, like a switch snapped and he was a different person,” he said, throat bobbing as he spoke.

“He’s not well. We haven’t spoke since he gave up the throne,” he almost whispered. You blinked a few times as you stared at him, Prince Gojo. A capable future king, but a younger brother at the same time, who was grieving over his brother.

You wordlessly slipped your hand into his hand, and he tensed for a second before relaxing and wrapping his fingers around yours.

“I’m with you,” you said, using the same words he gave you earlier. 

Loaded silence filled the room. You worried you might’ve scared him off, might’ve forced him to talk about things he wasn’t ready to address yet because a few beats too many passed without him saying anything.

“You’re not alone, my prince. I know it wasn’t your choice, but I’m here to share your burdens. Hear your truths. I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, meaning every word. 

“Thank you,” he finally said, his voice heavy with emotion he wasn’t ready to share yet. But you smiled as he squeezed your hand. 

“Mhm,” you responded, beginning to thread your right hand through his pearl locks. 

His eyes shot closed once again as he let out a soft groan, leaning his head back to chase your touch. 

“Fuck, if you keep doing that there won’t be any words out of me for a while,” he said, and you laughed. 

“You’re just like a cat,” you noted, the smile evident in your voice. You lightly scraped your fingernails against his scalp, finally seeing all the tension dissolve in his face. 

“I would be happy to be a cat if I got to sit in your lap and get petted all day,” he drawled and you blushed at the deeper tone he adopted. 

You opened your mouth to say something but stopped yourself as you noted the sated, sleepy smile on his face. The big, bad Prince Gojo was relaxed for once, and he looked painfully handsome.

Shaking your head to yourself, you continued silently stroking your hands through his hair, watching as his breaths slowed and became even. His lips parted slightly as his body relaxed with sleep, the side of his cheek turning to lay against your thigh.

You smiled to yourself, not ceasing your touch until you fell asleep yourself.

[capslocked]

SERENDIPITY

male reader x kwon eunbi

18k words

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’s half-right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh?” she asks, leaning in. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just shrug.

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

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

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

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

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

“Not that young.”

“You’re twenty-seven.”

“Twenty-five.”

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

“Does that bother you?”

“Why would that bother me?”

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s complicated.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fun with what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not most guys.”

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

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

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

“Tactful.”

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

“That’s not - I’m not-”

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You press down and she hiccups.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

There she goes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So bend, you tell her, don’t break.

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

How you might ever put her back together.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks for the ten-dollar-word.”

“Lucky,” she reiterates.

“I know what it means.”

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

“Can you stop.”

“Does she?”

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

“One crisis at a time, okay.”

“What are you going to tell Minju?”

“Nothing.”

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

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

“Hm, bad idea.”

“Oh, alright then.”

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

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

“Yeah, no kidding.”

-

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

It always starts the same way:

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

(She’s stunning as ever.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you?”

“No,” you end up saying, bluntly.

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

“Yeah.” You tilt your head. “Sure.”

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

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

“Just entertain the thought for me.”

“Like a hypothetical, you mean.”

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, she probably will.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Unh-uh,” says Eunbi flippantly. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

-

(Here’s how it goes:

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can only nod, breath panting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

-

But what else is there to say?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You need her.

-

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

It starts to get in the way of your work.

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, well, I mean I’m here.”

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

“No.”

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

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

“What?”

“How about this, are you feeling depression.”

You pause before you answer. “No.”

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

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

She sinks into her seat, disappointed somehow.

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

“Stop.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s unholy. The overstimulation has tears welling in her eyes, gorgeous, wide, glassy and brilliant. She’s not meant to take this kind of treatment. Reverence, adoration, that’s her usual faire. And she can hardly believe when you bring your hand down her ass again - can hardly believe that you’re fucking her within and inch of her life and wrecking her like you are.

Each thrust sends her voice higher and the lines of her body rippling faster, bending further. Its beauty in resonance, profundity in motion: the soft skin of her ass shaking against your hips, tits swinging against the window. Your hand snakes across her flat stomach, feels her panting for breath, traces her ribs and up towards her chest. Those little whines make it out to be something selfish. Mewling gasps for air make it seem like you aren’t giving her exactly what she asked for. As if you’d ever give her anything less. 

Fuck. She’s a hot, moaning mess of a woman. She doesn’t even roll her hips back onto you or fuck herself on your cock; she doesn’t need to. You’re destroying that little pussy, and once you start palming the heavy shape of her breast, you’re letting your fingers sink into all that profundity. 

“Please,” finally slips out of her, though she’s unable to add anything in that thin, wilting voice. There’s plea in it, the sound steeped in protest, in penury, in poverty; you’re fucking her and you’re fucking her apart - cock buried deep in her cunt - you never expected to have to piece her together this early.

“Tell me,” you demand, callous, right at her ear, “please what? Please pound this perfect little pussy of yours until I cum? Please fill you with a hot load of cum because what, you deserve it? Is that you want, Eunbi?”

“Please, cum-” Her words vanish like a hot breath against the glass. She’s blathering, eyes falling half-lidded in this amazingly sexy way that almost feels intentional. “Want to feel you cum. Fill me up with cum, please, please, please-”

“Oh, Eunbi,” you drawl, right into the crook of her neck. It makes her shiver. She’s not a princess, curses woven into her breath, but she’s selfish like one. “I’m not going to cum in this perfect little pussy-”

It all happens so fast: you drag your cock out of her cunt, and if you weren’t pressing your fingers into her waist, holding her tighter, you think she might collapse. Maybe you were closer than you realized, moments from draining your balls in her pussy, because when you lay cushioned between the cheeks of her ass, your cock just starts to spill - hot cum weeping from the tip and making a mess of her soft, creamy skin, over the puffy lips of her pussy, across the tight little rim of her asshole.

“Good girls get bred, Eunbi,” you say, voice drying, sensitive, and so far from where you started. “You told me to be rough with you baby. I’m thinking I might cum in this perfect fucking ass. Should I?”

Eunbi’s face is flush against the glass, hands reaching back in response, spreading herself for you. Some part of her knows what you want, and she knows how bad she wants it too. “Please,” she begs, swallowing down on these hoarse uneven breaths, hiccupping between them - “need it.”

You can feel your tip tease her rim, where she’s still impossibly closed and waiting. The cum leaking from your cock is wet and slick and slippery, and with a fist curled around your shaft, realigned, angled down, you slip in.

There aren’t even words for it, how it all comes together. How she comes apart.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, recognizing Eunbi’s weight shift around you. “I’m going to fucking own this little asshole, Eunbi.”

Eunbi’s responsive mmm runs ragged. Face in profile against the window, tits smashed against the glass, you watch her eyes screw shut and her eyebrows draw together - you think for a moment, as you so often do, that you’re hurting her, blazing past safewords and pressing your cock too deep, too fast into her tight ass. “Go,” she tells you, and without even flinching, gets her fingers underneath where you’re splitting her in two, gets them wet with the slick of her cunt and in between your balls, gently. “Want you, please, this big cock.”

Your eyes water, and you start to thrust.

“Baby,” you whisper into the lobe of her ear. For once it’s all slow, sloppy and soft. It’s sin at your waist, fucking her open slowly, pumping into her ass again and again until it’s all so slick she can take you further. But you’ve got your fingers in her hair, preening loose strands back behind her hair. She’s so pretty all the time, and with her face twisted in unbearable pleasure, she’s outright gorgeous. “So good for me, Eunbi, such a good little cumslut aren’t you?”

Eunbi’s voice crackles into broken whimpers, like her lungs are waterlogged and flooded. She steals a hand away between her thighs, and starts ghosting her fingers over her clit. Anything more than that and she’d probably go up in smoke. (If it’s anything like you, cock pulsing with blood and hot as flame, you are about to lose it.)

“Fuck,” she says, grinding out the consonants in your name like she’s crushing them under a boot, “I can’t believe how good you feel, I can’t, I can’t-”

You knew, had always known, that you had - however subconsciously - enticed fate by letting yourself get to this point. Maybe it’s a perfect slowburn, this history, dotting commas and periods in your memoirs, and here you are, pounding at Eunbi’s asshole so fast that she’s stuttering.

“I can’t, fuck - thank you - fuck - feel you throbbing in my fucking ass - love being your cocksleeve,” she hisses, and her body has practically all but given up, knees buckled out, arm dangling at her side, tears streaming down her cheeks. It’s just that she never expected it either, that you’d be pleasing her by fucking her like a toy, so unrepentant she’s sobbing messy, all sloppy and pleading, more, please, harder, faster.

“You like this cock tearing your ass open, Eunbi?” you ask, pushing the hand she has hidden at her cunt out of the way, “you like being such a perfect slut for my cock, don’t you? You weren’t kidding, you’d let me do anything to you.”

“Please, don’t, you’re gonna make me - again,” she squeals, lip wobbling, mouth hung open. You push her hard against the glass, until she straightens out, and your finger is gliding through the slick of her cunt, knuckles knocking the window and honing in on her swollen clit - you’ll make her scream. “Oh god, fuck, oh god, fuck, fuck, fuck-”

Serendipity is about chance meetings, convenient covers. Life has a way of dropping the world in your lap without you having to do anything. It’s Eunbi’s picture-perfect face, wrecked and twisting as she cums all over your thighs, rolling her hips and fucking her ass onto you - it’s that when she cums with her puckered entrance stuffed full of cock, she squirts everywhere. Lucky, is the watchword you’re sitting on, and of all places, of all people, you’ve been dealt the perfect hand, deck stacked in your favor.

There’s wet splattered all over the window. Stains streaking in the carpet. Dark spots that’ll never fade.  

“Keep fucking me,” Eunbi says, head of jet black hair titled back onto your shoulders, hips twisting slow as she grinds down against your waist, moving enough to make your cock throb and pulse. “Keep fucking me, please, until you fill my ass up all the way. I’m yours.”

Yours, yours, yours, she stammers on, failed and wrecked on your cock. Malleable and pliant. Ruined. 

“This tight little ass of yours, Eunbi,” you mutter, drawing sharp breath after sharp breath, “is fucking unbelievable.”

It’s yours.

Her body twists, torso turns into you, and you get your mouth on hers, moaning and mewling on the same hot, damp air.

“Good girl,” you whisper against her lips, and with a final kiss to her temple, you fuck into her hard - hands snuck up to hold her breasts and keep her still, hips snapping fast, faster, faster-

When you finally explode up into Eunbi’s ass, she makes a noise fucked and faltering even further than you. It’s desperate and debauched and only staunched by the fingers you slip past her lips. She bites down, but you’re too far pitched into the reality of pumping cum past Eunbi’s tight entrance that you can’t be bothered to care.

“Fuck, Eunbi.” Your voice is sneaking through gritted teeth. She’s tiny against you, body slender and hot and milking your cock. A flash of muscle, a quiver, a pucker, and she’s got you reeling. You think about getting your hand around her throat - fucking her again - but the look her face is so pristine and contented. You have her like putty in your hands, like you could bend her, mold her, break her, and when you instead bring her face to yours in this lazy, clumsy kiss, lips sliding and her tongue licking into your mouth, you know you’d never need to.

See, she’s so dismantled, completely stuffed with cock, and still, with it leaking everywhere you can feel it run hot and sticky, it’s perfect. 

The hotel room isn’t big, and until this exact moment, had been so filled with sex that the the sounds of it echoing back and forth make this sudden quiet into a silence puzzlingly calm. Her features relax, into something a little more befitting her reputation. She’s sweaty and wet and you did your part, you fucked her and fucked her up, you realize, she’ll return you the favor later. 

You hold your breath, watching the beauty mark on her cheek raise and lower with every panted-out breath, mesmerized-

And with just the slightest shift, Eunbi’s mouth closes into this tiny, satisfied smile.

“You came inside my ass,” she says out loud. She tries not to laugh, and then she does anyway when you slide your cock out of her. “You just came - in my ass. Look.”

It’s almost unfathomable, that you just fucked her until she was sobbing, pushed your cock into her ass and had her uncoil like she did, the window, the carpet. Like a fucking disaster. It’s almost unfathomable that she’s got her hands spreading her cheeks open toward you and presenting the mess you’d made like it was something to be proud of, and after all that the mood of the moment shifts a little more intimate, a little more sentimental.

“You’re trouble,” you tell her, tilting her chin up under your fingers.

“Right back at you,” she says, and she pitches onto her feet until you kiss her again.

-

(It happens.

Time passes. You work on a new show. You move into a smaller apartment. It reeks of passed time. Maybe it’s the humidity of early sobriety, hanging and palpable. You can hear ticking in clockless rooms here.

It’s been years since Minju dropped the bombshell on the media. You recovered, mostly. Years too since you’ve seen Eunbi.

Sometimes the people you wanted as part of your story are only meant to be a chapter. You could probably stitch that into a frame and sell it to the kind of crowd who’d buy words in a frame.

You don’t.

Instead, you end up a little older, not in any meaningful way. You’re not wiser or any shit like that. Just older.)

-

You interrupt the producer of your current gig, a pretty middling radio show in a pretty mundane time slot. “What do you mean by new cohost? Like I’ll be working with another human being?”

He nods.

“Like every week?”

Nods again.

“Does he have a name?”

“She,” he corrects, writing judiciously at the clipboard permanently in his hands. Scowl on his face, pencil in his ear, clipboard in his hands, that’s how you know he’s in charge. It’s a whole look. He untucks a blank envelope from the disarray of papers in his hands, saying, “she dropped this off for you too.”

You turn it in your hands twice, until you see the cursive penned into the top right corner. Memories, stinging trifling things rush back to you, all at once: you see her face, her eyes are closed, she’s smiling, she’s a thought you’d tucked away for good, and now you’re wading through it like you hadn’t. 

Serendipitous.

[hyunjinsjeans]

He Knows (Felix ver.)

Han ver. | Seungmin ver. | I.N ver.

Masterlist

Synopsis: After Felix drops several hints that he wants to take the next step in your relationship and is met with your negative answers, a certain event causes you to suddenly realize you will never be truly ready, so why wait? And why make him wait any longer?

Type: Fluff 🧸, female reader 💃

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, mentions of children in precarious conditions. Lazily proofread.

Word count: 2075

AN: For someone who swears to be Hyunjin biased, I have to admit little mr sunshine himself does things to me and my brain chemistry and this is evidence of it. I think it turned out pretty cute, let me know your thoughts. Please enjoy!!

You walked the busy streets with a sense of accomplishment, you and Felix had had a wonderful couple of days in Australia already after you decided to schedule the entire trip with Felix to make the most of both of your free time. First, would be a week with Unicef and a week in Australia to see his family. 

It wasn’t easy being a public figure dating an idol. You were used to some degree of fame, appearing in a couple of tv shows. Your big break came after you began dating Felix, but by the time he communicated to his fans that he had been seeing someone and wanted to marry them you were a well established actress. In a way it was insane that he actually asked his fans if it was okay to get married, but you understood idol culture was a completely different ball to being an actress. 

Fortunately, you managed to land bigger and better roles. The exposure had you at a place where you were able to give back to others, so when Felix talked about donating to his favorite charities it came easy to take his advice and look at causes that felt close to you. Which landed you at a child protection center in Madagascar. 

You and Felix recorded each other all throughout the trip, from the moment you walked into the airport back in Korea to the moment you first met with the center director. It was not an easy thing to do, Felix had been on a couple of these trips before so we had a better understanding of what he was doing. You spent most of your time helping in different areas of the center, Felix was with the doctors in the morning and you were in the classrooms with the teachers and children in the meantime. 

It was rough to look at the lives of the children at the center, to watch the tests they had done come back with less than average results. You ended up crying in Felix’s arms the very first night after you spent part of the afternoon helping feed babies with special nutritious formulas and purées. Although you had a hard time in the beginning, you pulled through and found yourself having a harder time leaving the center.

Your talents in the classrooms had quickly made you a friend of most of the children, who liked to play with you and Felix. For the seven days you were there most of the time you managed to interact with one another was spent with a child in your arms. Felix made little effort to hide how much he loved seeing your maternal side, how you cooed at the youngest ones and teased the older ones, how you braiding the girls’ hair and playing football with the boys made his heart swell with love and pride to know one day you would give all that to your children.

He found you cute in how you would encourage the girls with crushes on him, one day even helping a small group make him little love letters (which he packed carefully in his suitcase). On the other hand the boys would run around behind you, asking for a kiss on their cheek or giving you compliments to get you to pat their heads or give them some form of affection, which you had given out freely to all the little ones since day one. 

Saying goodbye had been hard, Felix felt as if he was stealing you away from the youngest kids. You held the babies until the last possible moment, there were two girls; one was only eight months old and fighting to get into a decent weight, the other was a one year old in a similar situation. Felix offered his goodbyes too, both of you promising to return as soon as your busy life allowed it. 

The next stop in your trip was Australia. You spent more than an entire day getting there but managed to arrive successfully, tired and jet lagged. You walked out the gates hand in hand. Puffy eyes, sleepy faces but all smiles.

Felix's family was waiting, all happy smiles and bright attitudes. 

His parents had always been nice to you, reminding you a lot of your own family, Felix’s sisters were shy around you since they did not know you too well but still joked and talked to you a bit. Part of the reason for the trip was because you wanted to get more well acquainted with your husband’s family. 

“Oh, how was it?” Felix’s mom asked the moment she held you, right after hugging her son. 

“It was interesting,” her son commented, “those kids are wonderful, the people running the center are doing an amazing job.”

You echoed his words, adding “yes! It can be so hard too, they have this small hospital, a school and a kitchen… It’s really a lot.”

Felix’s parents guided you outside to their car while you talked. Felix did not let go of his chance to praise you in front of his parents. 

“Our Y/N here was a hit with the kids,” he told his mother, his hand squeezing your hand as an amused smile reached his eyes. “I was worried the boys were going to ask you to marry them.” 

You laughed at his words and leaned your head on his shoulder. “You’re one to talk, how many Ms. Felix did we leave behind?”

He chuckled at that, remembering the letters in his bag. You had gone through them in the plane, they were adorable and some of them had intricate details. 

“Oh, I’m not surprised…” his sisters giggled behind you, “he’s always had fans anywhere he goes.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Felix put his free hand up, “I’ve only got one Ms. Felix.”

During dinner you showed everyone some of the pictures from the trip, by then you had both freshened up and had a short nap. Eating your mother-in-law's warm homemade food made both of you finally feel relaxed and this made it so that you could have a good conversation with everyone at the table. It seemed although Felix’s siblings were still shy around you, they sensed your openness and were eager to ask more about yourself. When they first met you, they had been somewhat starstruck. To you, that was wild because you were nowhere near as famous as their brother - who they loved to tease and play with, so you were pleased this time that you could talk about how much you enjoyed listening to a certain artist, indulging on makeup tutorials on youtube and how you were a terrible baker, telling them the sad story of your last baking fail (it was a batch of coconut cookies that never saw the light of day, partially because you almost burned the place down). 

Once you and Felix were back in your small rental for the week, Felix let his slim arm fall over your shoulders. You giggled as you felt him swing his body from side to side as if he was drunk. By instinct or perhaps by force of habit, your hand grabbed his that was left hanging above your shoulder, your free arm wrapped around your blond husband’s waist. 

“Aw, what will I do with you?” You wondered in a dramatic tone. 

He smiled right in your direction, his eyes turned to the ceiling and he touched his chin with a playful glint in his eyes. 

“You could lay me down on the sofa, or have a baby?” He shrugged, gaze darting back to you. 

“Be so for real right now…” You huffed, squeezing his hand. 

If you had to be honest, you felt bad for shutting him down so many times in the past six months or so. He was not joking, you knew he started disguising it as a joke because you had said no plenty times before. You felt overwhelmed the first time he asked, then the second you were in the middle of staying calm while waiting to hear if you had gotten a role (you did!), then the third time you were worried about being too busy… every time he asked there was something in your mind that went “ah, no because…” 

It did not go unnoticed by either of you how this time, you had no excuse. 

“Y/N?” He straightened up in your embrace and stopped fooling around. 

You said nothing. 

He slid in your field of vision, as you had stopped dead in your tracks in the middle of the living room. Your arms almost dropped to your sides as you stared ahead in wonder. 

Why is your mind blank? You cannot think of anything other than how unprepared you had been on your first day at the center. How you still reached for the babies and held the kids’ hands to let them guide you as you ran behind them to their favorite spots in the makeshift playground. How your heart felt so full of love it was as if it could burst anytime Felix expressed exactly how honored he would be to have you make him a dad. 

He bent his knees to look down at you, “are you alright? Did you fall asleep with your eyes open?” 

The blond swiped his hand in front of your face. 

“Love?”

You felt tears prick at your eyes when you looked up at him. The clouds in your mind had suddenly cleared and you were thankful you had his freckles to focus on before your eyes met his. 

“I will.” You blurted out, “I want to.”

Felix’s brow furrowed, worry about not understanding you filled his chest. 

“You want to… what?”

You blinked, tears spilling from your eyes. Your hands reached to wipe them, but his tender ones beat you to it. You allowed him to clean your face before you held on to his hands. 

“Felix, I am not ready. I don’t think I will ever be… but I want to have your baby.”

He held your gaze for an entire minute, both of you allowed for the silence to settle and your words fell into place where they belonged. Felix’s worried frown softened, his hands ran down your frame like water flowing down a waterfall and he held you close to his body. The warmth and vibrant scent of ginger and cedar wrapped around you. Before the sound reached your ears you could feel the vibrations on his chest, he let out an airy laugh as he rested his chin on your head. 

“I thought you had gone insane for a moment,” he chuckled now but he quieted himself and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry if I’ve pushed you, love…” 

You pulled away from him, fistfuls of his shirt bunched up between your fingers. “No, no, no! You haven’t pushed me!”

Felix stared at your hands and you let go of his shirt while speaking, flattening the fabric. 

“I think I was scared. I love you too much to mess up,” you admitted in a low voice, “I kept thinking of all the things that could make it not work. All the reasons why I could disappoint you… in the end, we’ve done hard things together and we were not ready for them, but we are together.” 

Felix nodded his head along and let you finish. 

“I know how bad you want this, and you know there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” You reached up and smiled as your thumb went over the side of his face. “Besides, you can’t do it without me!” You offered him a bright smile, instantly adding, “please don’t do it without me!”

Your husband laughed, looking away at your panicked last sentence. He nodded and kissed your cheek. 

“I would never do it without you,” he whispered in your ear. “My family is going to go insane if we have a boy, I assure you.”

You tilted your head back arching your brow, “do we want to make them go insane?” 

Felix looked up in fake thought before shaking his head no, “I would prefer to make you insane.”

With that he pulled you up in his arms and started walking down the hall to the bedroom. 

“Right now?! You maniac!” you yelled but there was a big smile on your face. Butterflies dancing in your stomach. 

————

Likes, Reblogs and Comments are welcome! Thank you for reading!

[redclercs]

does he take care of you? ✩ max verstappen

— or, the one where max could easily fill your boyfriend's shoes.

✐ max verstappen x fem reader, charles leclerc x fem reader.

✐ inspired by the 1975's song 'sex'.

✐ warnings: cheating, toxic behaviors, alcohol consumption, charles is a jerk ngl, angst, mdni! explicit smut!! nipple play, fingering, piv, protected sex, riding, no after-care. while the actions portrayed in this writing are consensual and safe, do not take this as an example and be smart about having sex. 2k words.

HIS eyes are on you, even from across the room. You know it from the way your skin prickles and burns, the way goosebumps lift on your arms and legs, covered by the black dress your boyfriend picked out for you. Your boyfriend, who doesn’t notice—or doesn’t care—about the man who can’t keep his off you. Has never been able to keep his eyes off you.

“Are you cold?” Charles asks as you walk away from the man he was holding a conversation with, one you were not invited to participate in.

“No,” you rub your arms with your palms, making the goosebumps disappear. “Just an air current.”

Charles eyes you up and down, something he’s done several times now. While you changed in your shared hotel room, before you got into his Pista, and before you posed at the Black Carpet for this sponsor event. And he seems unsatisfied every time his eyes leave your figure.

"What?" you taunt, eyebrows arched. He picked this dress, he cannot possibly complain about anything now. He's not even going to care about it when it ends up on the floor of the hotel room along with his perfectly ironed suit.

"Nothing, chérie," he kisses your temple softly, a flutter that makes your skin itch, but you keep your hand stuck to your side, accepting the gesture like you're supposed to. "Give me a minute?"

"Sure," you stay planted in your place as he walks away, your boyfriend. The same person you hate the most every time you are dragged to these events. "I'll be waiting right here," you add, although he's out of earshot and anyway, he won't be looking for you, not for a while.

It's always the same.

"Having fun?" Max is by your side the moment Charles disappears, this too, is always the same.

"I'm thrilled," you reply, mouth in a thin line when you turn to face him. Max has a few drinks on him already, the red in his cheeks, the tell-tale sign. "What about you?"

"It's always fun seeing you with your boyfriend," his inflection doesn't change, he's not even being sarcastic. He's bored. "Where did he go, by the way?"

There are many answers to that question and each one could be the right one. He's holding a boring conversation with another sponsor representative, he's taking pictures with his team, he's pretending to be single and talking to a floozy.

"How would I know?" you retort.

Max's expression finally shifts to an arrogant smile that has you clenching your teeth. You hate him too, sometimes.

"Want to get out of here?" Max downs the last of the drink you didn't notice him holding. His cheeks flush again, eyes brightening.

"You can't drive, Max Emilian," you shake your head and roll your eyes.

Max laughs, taking a black card from the inside pocket of his black suit. "Who said anything about driving?"

You take the elevator first, the card Max gave you is inside your purse and you have the room number memorized. It’s always this easy to slip away from Charles and the rest of the crowd, it’s not as simple for Max but he always manages to.

Your shoes are off and your hair is down by the time Max gets to the hotel room. You’ve had enough time to think your next steps through, whether you want to stay or take the lift back to the party, back to Charles and your hatred. You suspect Max does this on purpose every time—give you time to regret your choices and walk away.

You never walk away.

“He picked this dress out, you know?”

Max has sobered up by the time he crosses the door. His gaze is clearer and his cheeks have lost a shade or two of pink.

“I figured,” the corner of his mouth goes up, taunting again. “It’s ugliest fucking thing.”

“That’s a very mean thing to say,” but it’s true, you hate the dress. It should be you giving Charles fashion advice and not the other way around, but he never takes you seriously. Not about clothes and not about anything else.

Max shrugs, his suit jacket is already resting in the loveseat by the window. “Truth hurts.”

You have no more time to waste. Charles won’t miss you, but it doesn’t mean your absence won’t go unnoticed. People often wonder where your boyfriend’s prettiest accessory is when you’re not around. Most of the time all Charles does is smile and say you’ll come back in a minute.

Not another word before his hands are on you. The calluses on his fingers are so familiar now they somewhat feel like home. How can you hate someone who makes you feel like this, too?

“You’re going to break the zipper,” you breathe against Max’s neck. He’s so impatient, always. These stolen moments are brief and apart from each other, although less every time.

“Wouldn’t that be a problem?” He scoffs, although there’s humor in his voice. Yet he is more gentle trying to undo the zipper of your dress, his knuckles graze the skin on your back and you’re covered in goosebumps again.

It’s your turn to fumble with the zipper of his pants. You’re as impatient as he is but he doesn’t hold it against you the way you do. It’s a very Max thing to do in these situations.

“Why were you staring at me, then?” You ask, breathless. Max’s hands are separating your thighs, and you’re throbbing with anticipation, yet you can’t let go of the thought that’s running through your mind. “If the dress is so horrendous.”

“Seriously?” Max rolls his eyes, but his hand slides to your inner right thigh, fingers ghosting up and down, close to where you want them to be and gone the following second. Your hips buck and it’s Max’s chance to prolong your torture, still holding back his answer.

One of his hands runs up on your side, caressing your hips and the curve of your rib cage before getting to your breast. Your nipples are already perked in excitement, and the sensation that runs through you when he pinches one is nothing short of delicious. But his other hand is still resting on your inner thigh, tracing lazy circles that are running your patience dry.

“I liked the view,” Max grunts as he leans down to kiss your neck and the hollow behind your ear. “But I think, I prefer seeing you like this.”

Your hands are on his hair, pulling softly as he continues to play with your nipples. Adding his mouth now and then, twirling his tongue and grazing with his teeth. The room fills with your moaning and his panting, as you reach your hand down to his dick.

Your thumb swipes the pre-cum down his length, and Max’s breath hitches. It does every time you touch him. You pump him up and down, and this finally motivates him enough to put his fingers inside you, one by one.

This thumb presses down on your clit, and your back arches, making you let go of him momentarily, to hold on to his bicep, your nails sink into his skin.

That’s another imbalance you present to him every time. You mark him, and he can’t ever do the same.

“Fuck me, please,” you whine, his fingers aren’t enough no matter how well he knows how to use them as he pumps them in and out of you and rubs the bud of nerves that demands so much attention. “Please Max.”

He’s made you beg more before, but not tonight. You’re in the middle of another thing, you need to hurry. He can’t have you just the way he wants to, squirming and begging, whining and clenching around nothing as he burns the image in his brain. A memory to hold on to until your next meeting.

Max wastes time, albeit necessarily, looking for the condom he kept on the nightstand, while you rub your thighs together, trying your best to create friction. You sit up only after you see him open the little package, taking the condom from his hands to put it on him yourself. Your fingers are skilled as they run down his length, and Max can’t help but think not only about the many times you’ve done this with him, but with your boyfriend too.

Max watches your movements with lust-filled eyes, his breath fanning your neck, before leaving a wet trace of kisses down to your shoulder. You're desperate to have him inside you, you can't waste more time.

This is the image Max is going to cherish when he's apart from you. The way you look on top of him, how you push him down to the mattress with both palms on his chest, half-moons adorn his skin by the time his shoulders are completely down. He's going to remember the way you moaned and threw your head back as you finally, finally inserted his cock in your pussy.

There aren't many occasions in which Max is willing to waive control to anyone. But he lets you set the pace as you ride him, using his chest as support while moving your hips to hit the spots where you want him most. His hands grip your skin tightly, and there is that fear in the back of your mind that he might finally leave a bruise or a scratch that reveals your little affair.

"N–not so hard," you say, through a high pitched sound that comes right from your throat. "It's going to bruise."

And Max thinks maybe it should. He wants to squeeze you harder, to mark you and bruise you and really, really make you his. To leave evidence behind that he was with you, in you.

But he relents, he always does.

His hand goes back to between your legs, rubbing your clit harshly, quickly. The way he knows will push you through the edge and will make you scream his name.

"Pl–please keep doing that," you gasp, as your pace stutters. "I'm so close."

So is Max, the way you move on top of him, the sight of your breasts bouncing, the salt on your skin due the sweat and the way you glow have him so close to a release, he wonders how he's been able to hold it back.

He thrusts up, hitting you deeper than you had managed yourself. A surprised squeal leaves your mouth and you sink your nails on his shoulder.

"Again," you demand.

Surprisingly, you reach your climax before Max does. Throwing your head back, you let the wave of pleasure run through you, your throat aches when you produce more sounds, turning into nothing other than sensitive nerves and shaky body parts.

Max follows you soon, with a loud groan, he pulls you deeper down into him, squeezing your ass with both hands.

You feel him go soft, still inside you, and you move your hips front and back creating some friction that makes your insides pulse, ready again. Max sighs, he knows he will be hard again even before taking his cock out of you, but tonight you're on limited time.

"We have to go," he says, raspy. "Your boyfriend must be waiting," he adds, bitterly.

And you hate him again, for ruining the perfect interaction you just had. Always bringing up Charles by the end of your nights together.

"Fine," you reply, pushing yourself off him, annoyed. "Let's go."

Silence falls heavy in the room, so contrariant to the sounds that filled it just minutes ago. You fix your hair in the bathroom and Max cleans himself up, tying the used condom before tossing it to the trash.

You give him the room's keycard as he's buttoning his shirt back up. You manage to zip your dress back up without his help, and feel smug about it. Max only rolls his eyes.

"See you down there," you place a hand on his shoulder, and though he's already looking at you, you finally make eye-contact.

Max always finds himself wanting more than what you can offer to him, and tonight isn't the exception. The words 'leave him' get stuck in his throat in a knot he swallows forcefully.

"See you down there," he echoes, and doesn't turn around to watch you leave.

He's never ready to see you with another man's arm around you, much less right after being with you in this way just minutes before. But he has to settle for this, always.

You've got a boyfriend, anyway.