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socially-awkward-skeleton · 4 months

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All Along the Watchtower (chapter 7)

[Can also be read on AO3]

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC (3rd person POV)

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: Minors DNI - no major warnings this time besides some angsty thoughts, mentions of human trafficking, smoking, and swearing

Otherwise, get ready for lots of flirting and banter

Summary: Upon return to the safehouse Rory and Price decide on their next steps to deal with Zorokov and face some of the skeletons in Rory's closet.

A/N: Rory Sinclair is a dual citizen (both Canada and the UK) who's been living in the UK since she was 14. She is 28 at the time of this fic, Price is 32. This series is set in 2017 before the events of the first MW game. Rory's thoughts are bold and italicized, other italics are used for emphasis

October 18, 2017 01:30 - Safehouse

Price stood against the frosty window, red flashing neon lights from the hotel sign outside painting streaks along the wall as coils of grey smoke drifted from the end of his cigar he puffed away on, clouds of it billowing from his mouth as he exhaled. Steady, cold eyes stared out from under his furrowed brow as he held his tablet and conversed with Laswell.

Rory tucked herself on the side of her bed, crossing one leg and folding it under the other as she lit her cigarette and listened to the two of them discuss how the mission had gone so far, the intel they collected, the freedom of the hostages saved, and what the next steps were, all the while feeling like she was a kid in detention. What had happened in that club was not her greatest hour and hardly the defining moment of her career (she hoped for this mission as well). Sure she’d saved the lives of those women, but there was certainly a new form of tension between her and the Captain – one she could have done without. She hadn't come this far in her career to fuck it all up now and get herself chained to a desk from here on.

“ The laptop was a good find. Searching it now. ” Laswell’s voice filled the small hotel room while Rory held an ice pack to her shoulder, her fingers trembling as they clung to the plastic bag, still feeling the ache from the fight she had been in earlier. She pulled the cigarette from her lips and exhaled, some of the stress momentarily relieved as she was hit by another dose of nicotine.

“Went through enough trouble to get it.”

Her ears burned as Price's condemning glare landed on her. Embarrassment and her wounded pride festered inside. For all her skill and her cool, calm demeanour she still fell prey to that part of her that wanted every reminder in her head of that mission removed by any means necessary, even putting herself and others in danger. It was hot-headed and foolhardy, not the move of someone who wanted to be a leader, not the decision someone with her experience should ever make.

She looked up at the captain just as he turned away, his back facing her and (taking the hint) got up and headed into the bathroom, the toilet lid serving as her seat as she continued icing her aches and pains away.

Pulling the sweater over her head, slowly rolling the bulk of knitted material off of her torso, she sat there in just the thin material of her bra, letting the shock of freezing ice hit her bare skin. Wincing, Rory bit her lip, exhaling smoke through her nostrils forcefully. The red swelling on her arm and shoulder had already given way to dark blue and purple bruising in tortoiseshell patches along her skin. Deep inside the tender muscle she felt the sting pulsating, the pain hidden far below the surface.

Even with the door shut she could still hear the hoarse whispers of Price from the other room as he continued talking with Laswell.

“ How’s the sergeant doing? ”

“SRR having her on desk duty might’ve been for good reason. Girl nearly botched the whole damn op.”

Tossing the bag of half melted ice into the sink beside her, Rory continued to smoke, sitting in the flickering fluorescent lights, beating herself up more about what she had done than the Bratva enforcer ever had. It was a nightmare. She had worked rigorously to get to this point in her career, tireless in her efforts. This was her shot to impress a special forces officer with her skills that could get her back out into the field and instead she was letting the shit that resided in the back of her head take the lead. She was better than all this. He had every right to say that about her. The situation only stung more knowing that this was all some vain attempt to prove that she wasn’t that twenty three year old corporal in the bathroom stall anymore, that she wasn’t young and impulsive, that she had changed.

Her hand shook as she held the cigarette, the ash falling off the end as she rubbed at her tired eyes. Saving those girls was the right move, it was the only move. It was the one her mother would have wanted her to make. Fighting for something that was right. Doing a little good to make up for all the bad she had done. That was the kind of person she had been raised as. The kindness of the ‘Lamb’, a direct result of her upbringing under the gentle wing of a woman who had always put others first before herself. Not the violent thing she had been trained to become, forced to morph into in order to survive in a cruel and unforgiving world filled with enemies.

“Thought you said she had experience with this sort of thing?”

“ She does . Plenty .”

More experience than Rory cared to admit, than her record would allow to show. Redactions upon redactions and black ink that hid all the things that had been asked of her. Things she willingly did. For the greater good.

Price grunted, “At least she can fight.”

That felt more like a sucker punch to the gut than a compliment. The reason she was sure the SRR had recruited her. Tired and worn out, bi-weekly visits to the therapist, pills to help her sleep – but at least she could fight. At least she had experience. At least she knew just how fucked the world was. How corrupt and fallible the system was, how rules were made to be broken just like people. They couldn’t lose that, could they? Her skills, her achievements, they were useful even as her hands shook. She could turn off her morality because someone with more patches and medals on their uniform told her so. At least she could fight.

“ The intel you found, it's a rabbit hole, John. Just when we think we've found the bottom another trail opens. This goes deep and Zorokov's name keeps popping up all along the way .”

“Any other names stickin’ out?”

“ Yeah , hold on a minute .” Laswell cut off for a moment, leaving Rory in the silence of the bathroom as she sucked on the filter of her cigarette and breathed in the burning sensation of smoke that charred every branch of her lungs. “ Abdullah Al Ghulam. He's apparently under protection. An asset. Was supposed to be keeping his nose clean in Dubai .”

She froze. God, that name would never stop haunting her . Just when she thought one door to her memory closed, another was kicked wide open. Crushing the cigarette butt into the sink, she walked back into the room as she pulled her sweater on carefully, trying not to agitate her shoulder further. Not bothering to wait for the captain’s reaction to her return before speaking, “Al Ghulam never should have been given protection. My squad should have taken him out in Syria when we had the chance.”

Price looked up from his tablet, his eyes burning into her. “Pardon?”

Pulling at the thick fibres hanging loosely around her waist, straightening out the sweater to lay flat, Rory continued, “Abdullah Al Ghulam. The black mission before my transfer. That was who my squad was sent to intercept. He was an arms dealer assisting the insurgency in Iraq.”

“ You’ve dealt with him before? Why wasn’t he removed ?” Laswell asked, a flurry of keystrokes audible from her end.

“The CIA officer we were working with had orders to keep him alive.”

“Of course,” Price groaned.

Laswell’s voice came through once more. “ Who was the officer on that mission, Sergeant? ”

“Officer Roger Walker.”

“ I’ve had dealings with him ,” Laswell replied with a heavy sigh.

“He’s a charming fellow.” The venom in Rory’s voice wasn’t lost on anyone.

“ I’ll look into his mission report for that op, see what I can dig up. Might give us some more fuel for the fire. Meanwhile –”

“Meanwhile, Zorokov is still making deals and walking around a free man,” Price interjected.

“ He’s still our priority here, getting to him is imperative. With the trace we have working we know there’s a meeting coming up between him and a few of his connections. Has it marked in the calendar as ‘Helios’ at nine pm on the 25th. From what I can tell, it’s a nightclub. Apparently it's the home for many of his dealings, out of the sight of prying eyes while under everyone’s nose .”

Price rolled his eyes to look up at the ceiling, visibly unimpressed with the thought of having to go to another club. “Christ,” he rasped.

“Relax, sir. You can’t go in there anyway, Zorokov’s probably already been made aware of you.” Rory looked at him with a smirk. “Besides, we both know you don’t like the music.” Rather than focus on her mistakes, she couldn’t help but make light of the situation, anything to make her feel a little less like a ball and chain that Price was forced to drag around.

Lifting his brow, the corners of Price's mouth just starting to curl. “So what, you’re offering to go in my stead? If he knows about me, he’s going to know you too – especially after your little jailbreak.”

She let the jab roll off her back like water. “Maybe. That’s a risk we’ll have to take. If anyone’s going to be able to get close to him, it’s me. No matter how well guarded a man thinks he is, when it comes to women, the brain might not be the one in control.”

The pause afforded between them was thick, that awkward elephant in the room still swaying its trunk. Professionalism was a tactful barrier keeping them from doing something they might regret. The rosy blush on Price’s cheeks faded while a grimace crept back up his face, the little flexes in each of his features letting her know something wasn’t sitting right with him even as he tried to remain stony.

“And considering Al Ghulam is tied up into this as well, there’s a friend of mine who I think could help,” Rory continued.

“A friend?” His brow rose. His body, a wall of muscle, stiffened.

“An MI6 agent. Andrew Owen.”

He sneered at the thought. “I don’t like to work with people I’ve never met before. I need to be able to trust who I’ve got covering my six. Not the biggest fan of intelligence personnel either – no offence, Kate.”

“ None taken. ”

Rory crossed her arms over her chest and shrugged her shoulders. “You’re working with me.” She tipped her head to the side and stared him down in a challenge.

For all intents and purposes, Price really didn’t know her other than in the biblical sense. He might have picked around in her head a little, barely scraping the surface, but he had an opinion of her now even if it wasn’t the full picture. He failed to remember she was also military intelligence. She might have screwed up her last shot, but this was an opportunity to save her bacon, to prove her skills in another capacity. Deep recon .

“That's different.”

“Is it?” She didn't see how.

Ignoring her question completely, Price continued, “How do you plan on getting to Zorokov? Gonna start more trouble?” He eyed her up and down with a low hum.

Rory smiled and dropped her hands to her hips, her confidence spilling over in the moment, reminding the captain of the pretty woman who had once grabbed his attention five years ago. “Just have to use my feminine wiles and sweet talk the prick, yeah?” She said with a simple shrug of her shoulder and a flutter of her lashes.

“You’re willing to be bait?”

Her eyes never left his gaze, pumping herself up on the inside, refusing to back down. “I know what my strengths are.”

Price’s eyes roamed over her once more, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. She was sure he was picturing how she had looked that night in the bar, the woman he had been seduced by. “Shouldn’t be too much of a problem for you to catch his attention.” His eyes seemed to twinkle at her as he said it, the smirk on his face causing the lines on his face to crinkle as he gave a quick little thrust of his pelvis and bounced on his heels.

Rory rolled her eyes and huffed quietly. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t try and chat me up in Russian.”

“If he does, you can always just smile and nod – he’d probably like that.” He paused and his grin got wider. “Just open with that posh girl accent you’ve built up and I’m sure he’ll have no problem usin’ the Queen’s English with ya.”

“Oh, cheers.” She couldn’t help but laugh as he took the piss out of her.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing, Sergeant.” He spoke with a warm rumble, softening up to her. “You certainly sound more English than the first time I met you, can hardly tell you’re even Canadian anymore.”

“Yeah, well, time’ll do that to a person.”

He leaned forward slightly, lowering his head to meet her eye line, his voice quieter. “It suits you.”

Rory cocked her brow, taken aback by the compliment given out of the blue. Her lips parted, eyes widening. Doe-like . “Really?”

“Yeah. I like it.”

She pursed her lips and furrowed her brow, her jaw clenching tight. Not sure how to take it. It was just a little too friendly. He seemed a little too comfortable being playful with her now, even with Laswell on the line listening in, especially after the way she had acted earlier.

“Right,” he ran a hand through his hair and dropped his eyes from her to return to his tablet. Putting on the airs of the stoic captain once more. “Get in touch with Owen. We’ll start working on getting you nice and personal with Zorokov.”

“ Good luck out there. The both of you. ”

“Thanks, Kate.” He ended the call with Laswell and looked over at Rory once more, pausing to size her up. “You sure you’re ready for this? Going in undercover?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done it.” Sliding her hands over her hips, she rested them in the back pockets of her jeans. Casual . Hoping she appeared relaxed.

“This isn’t like recon out in the field though, is it? You’d be up close. On your own. I can’t have your switch flipping.”

“I’m aware. I know that this is our best chance of getting to him, nabbing him and interrogating him.” Her eyes fell as her mouth drew into a straight line, she knew how easily this situation could make her flip. “I’ll deal with the personal shit.”

Heaving out a sigh, Price bit his lip. “Contact your mate, get him out here, soon as,” he ordered, pointing his finger at her as he did so. “The quicker we can get the hell out of this shithole, the better.”

“Yes, sir.”

Crossing the room, he walked over to his bed and tossed the tablet into his duffel. Stretching his neck from side to side as he sat down, he finished smoking the last of his cigar, his impenetrable gaze shifting sideways as he kept her in his periphery.

Rory dug into her bag and pulled out her cellphone, scrolling through her list of contacts before her thumb hovered over her old lieutenant’s name. She always knew letting Al Ghulam go into CIA hands was the wrong decision, it was a little too late to say ‘I told you so’, but she might finally get some closure on an old scar and it would be nice to do so with an old friend at her side, someone who knew just how bad the bastard was.

The dial tone in her ear rang several times before Andrew answered, his smile apparent in his voice. “ Sinclair! ”

She paced along the floor beside her bed, a few steps to the left and then back to the right, glancing up every now and again to notice Price still watching her out of the corner of his eye. “Andy, I need you.”

“ Say no more, darling. What do you need? ”

Her thumb had drifted up towards her mouth and her nail sat between her teeth. “Working an op –”

“ You’re out in the field again? ”

The concern in his voice, she could hear it plain as day. Andrew had been the only person she could really talk to about what she had seen because he had lived it too. He knew just how badly it had affected her. The nightmares. The tremors. He was the only one with the clearance to know, not to mention the threat that still loomed over her from Walker about wiretapping. Even if she wanted to tell her father about what had happened to his only daughter, she couldn’t. All she had was Andy.

“Yeah. Russia.”

“ Jesus, you’re a ways from home. ”

Price stared at her from over his shoulder and she had to avert her eyes, going back to pacing in front of the bed. “Can’t go into full details but I need you to do a little shopping for me before you meet me here. And I need you to bring a very easily concealable wire with you.”

“ Consider me intrigued .”

“Going in undercover. Need to catch some prey. It requires using some… assets .”

“ Showing a little leg for a cause? ”

Her smirk grew. “I trust your judgement, Andy.”

“ You might regret saying that .” His laugh was warm and genuine, he’d never been above teasing her with playful banter.

“Shut it,” she said with a laugh. “Need you out this way ASAP.”

“ I’ll be there in two shakes of a lamb’s tail .” Rory rolled her eyes. “ Text me your measurements, yeah? ”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll send you details in a bit. Just hurry up.”

“ See you soon .”

Upon hanging up her phone she noticed the way Price’s eyes seemed to have narrowed, the crow's feet by his eyes creasing further. “It’s late. We should get some rest.” With that, he stood up and moved for the bathroom.

She would be lucky if sleep came to her tonight.

---

It had started to rain in the early morning hours, droplets spilling down the single glass pane cutting long streaks through the frost that clung to the window, the red neon lights filtering through and creating bubbled patterns on the wall. Rory sat wearing little besides a tee shirt and her panties on the radiator looking out the window, cracked open just enough to let a cold breeze through the room. Slipping a cigarette from the pack, she lit it and inhaled deeply while closing her eyes, breathing in the nicotine and the night. Running her fingers through her hair, she brushed the dark tresses over to part on the opposite side.

Lost in the haze of smoke that surrounded her head, she was startled by John’s gruff voice, made thicker by the sleep he’d just stirred from. “You’re awake?” Rubbing at his beard, he rolled over in his bed to sit on the side of it, wearing only his boxer briefs as his steely gaze bore into her from the dark as he watched her. “What’re you doin’ up?”

She took another drag of her cigarette before looking at him, exhaling out a stream of smoke like a chimney. "Can't sleep. It's not a rare thing for me."

Stretching out his back with a groan, he continued to watch her. "Somethin’ bothering you, Sergeant?"

"Not particularly,” she hummed. “Suppose it's just a good night for a smoke."

He chuckled and got up, grabbing his own cigar and lighter from his bedside table. "Mind if I join you?"

“Like I could stop you,” she said with a smirk, her gaze traveling with him as he took a spot near her on the wall by the window. It was the first time she had really been given the chance to see him in all his glory. Even when they had been together five years ago, they were both at least partially dressed. Seeing him like this was rather eye opening and Rory couldn’t help but take in all the sights along Price’s body. Every scar, each freckle, the hair that carpeted his chest, trailing down his stomach, and covered his muscular limbs.

"You’d be surprised." He smirked as he caught her eyes roaming over him, but he didn’t bring attention to it, rather basking in it instead. “New habit?”

“This?” Rory motioned with the cigarette in her hand. “God, no.” She laughed quietly and took another drag from it. "Been smoking these since I was 16. Used to sneak out to the pitch behind the school with my mates for a fag and watch the lads play footie."

"You rebel," John said with another chuckle. Lifting his lighter to the tip of his cigar, he let the flame dance against it until it began to smoke, burning in the dark.

"I’m surprised you didn’t taste it on my breath before." She tapped her cigarette ashes out the window and stared at the orange glow across from her, like a moth to a flame she felt drawn to him.

“I haven’t tasted much in years,” he said, chomping down on his cigar, letting the smoke billow from his nostrils.

She giggled quietly and her eyes rose to watch the embers at the end of the cigar burning with the same vigor as the ones that had begun to flicker in her gut. Her mouth suddenly went dry, finding it difficult to swallow. Her breath hitching as her mind tried to process the thoughts that didn’t revolve around the handsome man that stood before her. When she finally gained some clarity of thought between puffs of her cigarette, her smile faded as she spoke, "There is something, Captain."

"'Course."

His voice was gravelly at this time of night, and as he came to lean against the wall beside the window with his shoulder, drawing himself a little closer towards her, she seemed to find it hard to ask the question that she’d been carrying for some time.

"Why was I the one chosen for this mission?"

"You'd have to ask Laswell that one," he said with a grumble.

Warm hazel eyes tried to read his expression as shadows streaked across his face. “You didn't have a hand in it at all?"

"Not a one. Scout's honor,” he said with a nod. “Trust me, seeing you board that helo was one hell of a shock to me too."

A smile broke out across her face. "Liar. You didn't even know it was me." She tapped her cigarette ashes out the window and smirked around it as she brought it back to sit between her lips.

He flexed his shoulders, crossing his arms over his chest. "Maybe not right away. You’d cut your hair and your accent’s gotten thicker too, but the moment I heard you say Rory, well , then it all clicked into place."

“Oh, did it now?” She’d forgotten how very little she was wearing until the moment she noticed his eyes wander up the length of her legs, a hint of desire in his gaze before meeting hers with a warm glint. Pulling down on the hem of her shirt – what little good it did – she stared back at him. “We’re supposed to be professionals, remember ?”

His eyes flitted away from her, pulling the cigar from his mouth to blow out a plume of smoke. “Forgive me, Sergeant. There’s only so much a man can take before his body betrays his will.”

“You have been doing a very good job considering we’ve been trapped together like this. I’ll give you that.”

He cleared his throat, averting his gaze from her as best he could. Rubbing at his neck as he tried to change subjects. “Back there…seeing that side of you...the knife.”

The cigarette in her mouth glowed as she inhaled with a heavy breath, sighing out the stream of smoke. “I’m not particularly fond of having to be like that. I do what I have to. Intimidation, fear – they’re good weapons. But I’m not some sadist, I don’t enjoy it.”

“Wasn’t going to say that you do. You don’t stay a soldier for as long as we have without getting your hands dirty. I’m no innocent here myself.”

Tapping her cigarette out the opening once more, she leaned back against the window frame and closed her eyes taking a deep breath before returning the cigarette to her lips. “Getting my hands dirty…I know all about that.” She huffed out a laugh and took the cigarette from her mouth before resting her hands on her knees, the smoke trailing in wisps up from the cigarette’s ashy tip. “The mission I worked before this, the one that got me transferred. Al Ghulam . It was supposed to just be the usual joint CIA mission tracking weapon shipments.” A tremor shook through hand and she was quick to start rubbing at her knuckles, trying to work out the ghosts that seemed to haunt her nerves below. “I don’t know where the intel went wrong, but we stumbled upon something else instead.” She paused and pressed her forehead to the cold glass beside her. Her stare blank as she looked down at the street below. Her voice a quiet whisper as it cracked. “Human trafficking ring. I’ll never forget seeing women and children being penned like animals, bought and sold like property. Starving…Treated like dog shit.”

He pulled the cigar from his mouth, his brow furrowed as he stared at her, muttering a hushed “Jesus” under his breath.

“These bastards trade them like they’re on the fucking stock exchange.” She blinked several times and glanced over at him. “I’m sorry if I went off the rails back there. I just –” She shook her head, running her fingers through her hair again. “Knowing the absolute lows of humanity isn’t something I can always keep locked in the vault, you know?” Looking up at him, Rory lifted her brow, hoping they might come to some sort of understanding.

“Yeah,” he murmured.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t follow orders and that I acted on my own accord. I wouldn’t be like that for any other reason. It won’t happen again, Captain.” She gave him a soft grin, placating him.

Taking another long drag of his cigar, he blew smoke and sighed. “See that it doesn’t. We’re here to get intel to fight a war, Sinclair. Not get revenge. I don’t need you actin’ like a fuckin’ muppet on my watch.”

Cracking a wide grin, a laugh leaked out of her against her will. “I deserve that.”

“Goddamn right you do.” His teasing smirk returned, the crow’s feet around his eyes crinkling. “But considering the shit you’ve seen I'm surprised you can even crack a bloody grin at all.”

Rory shrugged, tipping her head to the side, feeling vulnerable for just a brief moment. “That's just life though, isn't it? It's the fucking pits, and then we die, and that's that. No point letting it ruin what bit of good there is.”

His brow knit together, but he kept his cocky grin as he continued to look at her. Not adding to her discussion, instead appearing as though he was debating something in his head, the cogs spinning behind his eyes.

Basking in the red neon light, she smiled softly at him. “You're looking at me like I've just grown an extra head, John.”

“ John ? We're back to a first name basis, eh?”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

“Not exactly professional, is it?” He lowered his head and looked up at her through his raised brow, the lines in his forehead creasing. A spark in his self-assured stare.

“No, I suppose not.”

“You s'pose right.” He stubbed out his cigar on the windowsill. “Get some sleep, Sinclair.” He patted her leg with his large, rough hand and then moved back to his bed.

The warmth from where he had touched her lingered, her fingers grazing over where his calloused hand had been as if she could still feel him there. Her ogle followed him as he settled back into his bed, spending just a little too long focusing on his body.

Fuck.

She was falling despite herself.

#call of duty #fan fiction #john price #john price x oc #oc: rory sinclair #fic: all along the watchtower #chapter 7

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zet-sway · 5 months

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Or, Thane and Steve rebuild their lives in the chaos after the war.

[Read on AO3] - Rated E for EXTREMELY SPICY TIMES

Pairing: Thane/Cortez | Rating: 18+ | Words: ~3600

Made for @messydiabolical!!! Merry Christmas!!

Peace, while difficult in its own way, promised them a beautiful future. The memories would be enough until then.

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

The days after the war passed in a dreamlike trance.

No sooner had they released Steve from the field hospital, he was back to work - despite Thane's protests. Even Thane couldn't deny that ‘light duty' meant very little to either of them when so much needed doing. Today’s task was setting up more temporary shelters.

“You should rest,” he said softly to the man leaning against him, breathing heavily after staking a tent with his one good arm. The other hung in a sling made of little more than torn fabric. “Your arm will trouble you further if you continue to strain it.”

“I'm not letting these guys sleep in the rain because of a bad arm.” Steve's smile, although tired, brought him some measure of comfort.

After the reapers had fallen, one thing was clear: things could not be as they were. Not for a long time; perhaps not even in his lifetime. Surrounded by humans and a smattering of other species, Thane hadn't felt this alien in a long time. Illium, despite its myriad travelers and their questioning eyes, had felt more like home than Earth. There were humans here who had never even heard of drell before, much less seen one. Visiting travelers and refugees regarded him with blatant, uncomfortable stares.

But stranded though he may be, Steve Cortez was still by his side; the man who had brought color back to his life after ten long years.

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

News of his son reached him early. Kolyat had helped organize an emergency evacuation from the Citadel, together with his partner Feron, and the pair were busy attempting everything they could to restore communications with the Shadow Broker and the wayward Normandy. Steve's arm healed before long, and Shepard, although grievously injured, was expected to make a full recovery.

The Alliance swiftly inducted any alien volunteers into their ranks. The designation was as official as a verbal agreement could be, but it allowed him a sense of belonging amid London's decimated infrastructure. So much of their life was focused on the necessities of survival. ‘Home’ became little more than whatever ground they could find to sleep on.

In the early days, it had been a creaky chair beside Steve's hospital bed, and then a cot in an Alliance field tent. One night it would be a threadbare bedroll, and another it would be a dusty floor beneath a creaky roof. But as he had for years, Thane began each morning with prayer and meditation. Precious minutes were spared to thank the gods - to beseech and implore his patrons to protect, nourish, and calm the minds of himself and his beloved, his son, and all of the unusual but remarkable people who now surrounded him. In this way, he slowly found peace.

Steve sat before him amid the many other Alliance soldiers sharing their current encampment, hands warm on his palms. Together, they spoke their morning ritual on hushed breaths, finding space to shut out the noise of tens of soldiers beginning the day's work.

“May Arashu protect and hold my beloved in the days to come, and may Kalahira watch over the lovers who have gone where we can not yet follow.”

Thane stood in silence, helping Steve to his feet in turn. They held one another for a brief moment - long enough for Thane to breathe a single word against his partner’s cheek.

“Melithas.”

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

Many had asked him to define the word, but Steve was the only person to whom he had granted such a meaning.

“A shooting star,” he said one autumn evening, tracing his fingertips through Steve's hair, now grown out just slightly longer, as more important things needed doing. “A brilliant streak across the night’s darkness, fast and fleeting. My mother used to say that such stars choose who may witness them.”

“That’s beautiful. Anyone ever tell you you’re a hopeless romantic?”

Despite his words, the smile that lit Steve's eyes may as well have had the power to cure the afflictions of every person in their barracks.

“Only for you,” Thane whispered, kissing his palm. He allowed him to touch the sensitive ruby frills on his cheek, a desirous sound leaving him. “It suits you. You belong to the sky.”

“Now you're just buttering me up. Keep going like that and I'll follow you forever.”

“I think it may be too late,” he chuckled. “It's certainly too late for me.”

Steve tucked his head against Thane's shoulder, leaving a single, soft kiss against his throat. The warmth that spread through him ached in a distinct melancholic way.

“I want you,” Steve whispered.

“And I, you, Melithas.”

They sat in silence, desire glowing like coals in a dying fire. Outside, the rain poured over cold, muddy ground. Surrounded by dozens of displaced alliance soldiers with not even a curtain to separate them, there would be no sating their need tonight.

Thane pulled the blanket around them.

“Sleep now,” he whispered. “May we find each other in the world of dreams.”

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

Space was cold, but London's winters felt colder. Though they had managed to find work under a sturdy roof, helping Steve repair shuttles for service, his scales ached in ambient temperatures his body was not made to endure.

“I found some new gloves for you to try,” Steve said one evening as he returned from a supply run, handing him a scrunched-up bundle of yellow material.

Thane frowned. Human gloves were, in the simplest terms, not made for drell hands. But closer inspection revealed that these were different. Thick fibers encased the outside of a hand-shaped object that had space for one thumb and what appeared to be four fingers inside one space.

“They're called mittens. The requisitions officer made them special for you. Not my favorite color, but she said it's what they had.”

Thane turned the object over in his hand, examining its construction. Already, he could tell that the loose weave would catch on his scales, but as he turned the cuff over he was surprised to find a tightly woven, pale-colored lining within. The material moved effortlessly against his fingertips. As he slipped his hand inside, it felt positively luxurious compared to every other garment he’d worn since arriving on Earth.

“She said if you like them, she'll try to knit you something with individual fingers.”

Never mind the implied lack of dexterity - the mittens were warm. So blessedly warm. At a loss for words, he wound his arms around his lover and pulled him tight.

“Thank you. Thank you, Melithas.”

“Don't thank me yet - I have one more surprise for you.”

Thane met Steve's eyes with curiosity.

“I got your flight assessment results. You're cleared for training,” Steve grinned.

Thane’s face split into a wide smile. He hadn't thought he would qualify.

“When will we start?”

“Tomorrow, 6am sharp. Don't be late, cadet. If you’re lucky, I’ll take you to the mile-high club.”

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

Steve was strict about the Alliance SOP for flight training. As strict as he could be, at least.

As an entry-level trainee, Thane's primary task should have been to observe, learn his instruments, and assist his pilot. The difficulty was that he should have been doing it in a flight simulator - something they simply didn’t have access to.

“This is a little unorthodox, but we live in strange times,” Steve began. “Going up is easier than getting back down, so you'll pilot takeoff, I'll pilot landing. Shuttles like the Kodiak are typically only flown by one pilot, but assuming we fixed everything up right, I should be able to take control if something goes wrong.”

He clapped the back of Thane's seat, leaning over his shoulder as he settled in. It wasn’t his first tour of this particular shuttle’s cockpit, but he listened attentively as Steve recapped what they had gone over in the weeks before.

"Keep your eye on your instrument panel. This is your altimeter, here's your speed, artificial horizon and all that. Vertical stabilizers are to your left, horizontal to your right.” He indicated a set of controls adjacent to each armrest. “And here, this is your thrust lever.” The dual-handled lever was situated between them, well within reach.

Thane settled into the seat, touching each control and instrument one by one to commit the tour to memory.

"When this is green, we're on autopilot. For routine stuff like this, she’ll mostly fly herself. Things can be a little overwhelming initially, so focus on getting used to your instruments. We can move on to more advanced flying once you’ve mastered this."

Thane nodded, buckling himself into the seat as Steve did the same beside him.

Thane tapped the inputs as directed, felt the feedback in the haptic implants he’d gotten many years before. The shuttle hummed as they lifted off the ground, rumbling steady and even beneath them.

Steve opened his comm to their local traffic controller.

“Alliance Command, this is Steve Cortez with FRT requesting escape trajectory for UT-47 Kodiak test flight in vacuum.”

“FRT Cortez, you’re cleared for escape trajectory on heading two-four-zero to orbital station Triton. Fly safe out there.”

“Acknowledged.” Steve tapped the screen and met Thane’s eyes. "Set your heading here. And go easy on the gas,” he said with a lopsided grin.

The heading dial ticked up as they pivoted toward their given takeoff direction. Thane’s hand settled around the cold steel of the thrust lever.

“Take us up, babe.”

He breathed deep, set his shoulders, and pushed forward.

That first burst of speed was electric. They sailed forward, and he watched their altimeter tick up - slowly at first, and then faster and faster until their backs were glued to their seats at escape velocity. The engines roared beneath them like twin dragons, freed after months of confinement.

The ride was exhilarating. The shuttle shot through the clouds, the sun bursting into view like a fireball. And higher still they went, up and up and up. The digital windscreen cleaned up the distortion from the heat of their climb, but Thane could feel it - a corona of fire wreathed around them as they rocketed through the atmosphere until darkness overtook them at the final barrier between sky and stars.

And gods, the stars. He could never forget, as was his nature, but the stars were even more numerous than his memory. Their majesty commanded his reverence.

“Never gets old,” Steve said under a hushed breath.

Just how long had it been since he'd left the atmosphere? Thane counted back the months, long since accustomed to Earth's standard timescale - nearly one Solar year. Thane had never really considered himself a sailor, in a spacefaring sense, but perhaps he'd missed this more than he realized.

"Goddess of Oceans,” he whispered.

His teachers had said the cosmos was just an ocean by another name. An endless sea of stars, each created by Kalahira to guide the lost across her abyssal depths. He gazed upon them now, hand in hand with the wayward human he had come to cherish, and thanked the gods for smiling upon them. Steve's hand brushed his own, fingers slipping into his grip. The expanse of stars filled him with a warm, vibrant sensation, brighter than the rare sun of Kahje. He dared to call it hope.

"You're a natural, babe. You sure you've never flown before?" Steve kissed the back of his hand and gave it a tender squeeze. Thane’s cheek frills darkened.

"I suppose this means I’ve made it to the Mile High Club?”

Steve let loose a real, genuine belly laugh.

"Not quite," he said with a smile. Steve rose from his seat, twined his arms around Thane’s neck and brought his mouth to his aural ridge. “You're not in the mile-high club till you've made love at 5280 feet above sea level.”

There was a sultry edge to his voice that Thane hadn't expected, and he raised a brow (both brows, actually). He didn't dare hope for truth among those tempting words, but despite himself, they slithered with decadent heat beneath his skin.

“My altimeter says we're much higher than 5280 feet,” he said evenly.

“Your discipline never fails to amaze, but I’m putting this baby in standby.” Thane couldn't parse what ‘standby’ had to do with the situation at hand, but Steve quickly undid his safety belts and spun his chair around. “C’mere.”

The look in Steve’s eyes was telling.

“Do not tease me, Melithas.”

Warm breath washed over his throat, and Thane arched his neck on impulse. “Never, kitten.” And then Steve was on his knees before him, pulling their bodies tight, hands warm on his back.

The realization touched his mind as they drew close. Drifting among the stars, they were finally, blessedly alone. And in moments, their lips met as effortlessly as sea meets sand.

The kiss was everything they yearned for since the invasion began. Steve’s hunger for him parted the clouds of his mind, burned away the death and destruction of the war, and seeded life within his heart anew. Months. It had been months. The kiss flowed between them like a virile wine that slaked their long-buried thirst for one another that only the war could have put on hold.

With one hand on the back of his neck, Steve worked his other hand against the fasteners of his flight suit.

"Christ, Thane. If I have to go another night without you, I'm liable to fuck you silly in front of the entire barracks."

Thane hummed against his lips. "At this point, I don't believe I'd have the willpower to stop you.”

"I'll share a lot of things, babe. But you? Those sounds you make? Those are just for me. Only me."

Steve's mouth moved against his neck, licking a hot line along the most sensitive part of his throat. The cockpit, small as it was, quickly became their temple as they stripped each other bare by the low light of the haptic console.

"You're lucky," Steve said. "You have all those memories to fall back on." He dug his fingertips into Thane's pectoral frills, flooding him with need.

"Memories are far from sufficient," Thane groaned, wresting Steve's flight suit open, "Imagine yourself roused from a dream with naught more than your hand to satisfy you.”

"You poor thing," Steve whispered, gripping his chin as he drew their lips together. “Why don't you let me take care of you?"

"Please, Melithas," Thane whispered, his voice breaking on the knife edge of his need. "Whatever you wish of me is yours."

Steve’s answering murmur was low and laced with wanting. "I love it when you call me that."

Moments later, Thane found himself extricated from his suit, a warm hand sliding down along his shaft to his opening below, weeping with desire. Seeking fingers pushed inside him, collecting his wetness, massaging his walls. They emerged coated, smearing along the length of his cock, helping Steve's warm palm glide effortlessly along the length of him. Thane swore under his breath as he squeezed. Thank the gods for the well-placed perks of interspecies contrasts - he was beyond ready, aching and eager to be filled.

As quickly as he’d started, Steve suddenly pulled back. Thane met his gaze with concern.

"Hey,” he said quietly. “I'm sorry I haven't been as attentive as I should be."

There was a genuine apology in his eyes, reflecting the orange lights of the console. Thane scooched forward, thumb running along Steve’s jaw.

"You needn't apologize,” he said softly. “People are depending on us. We hardly have time for such indulgences."

"Yeah, but I just want you to know how special you are to me. I love you so god damn much. Some nights I want you so bad I can't sleep." To illustrate his point, Steve drew their bodies flush, making evident his own hardness beneath his shorts.

"I never doubted you,” Thane smiled, kissing him gently.

Steve’s answer was another kiss. On his lips, Thane could taste everything. All the love, the heartache, the frustration and desire and feeling that they’d been forced to set aside for the sake of rebuilding the basic pillars of survival. Steve’s hand gripped his waist, pulled him forward until they were both clumsily standing and stepping out of their clothes, neither of them willing to break this kiss they’d pined for all these months. The hard line of Steve’s cock pressed against his thigh as the man leaned against him, driving him backward one step at a time. Before long, he bumped the console and swore, reaching blind behind himself to lock the controls.

"Up," Steve ordered, and Thane was quick to comply. The instrument panel bit into his backside, but it didn’t matter as Steve reached between them, closing a fist around both of their cocks and stroking long and slow. “Let me make love to you,” he whispered.

“Please,” he said. “Gods above, please.”

He felt the way Steve’s lips curled into a smile against his mouth.

"Never done this in the cockpit before. But we'll make it work," he said as he lined himself up. He didn't hesitate, didn't tease - Steve's cock slid home, stretching him with the fullness he’d been denied for far too long. Warmth bloomed along his spine, crawling through his limbs and soul.

“Gods,” he panted. With some effort, he managed to raise one leg and splay his knee, altering the angle to an exquisite depth that made his dual eyelids flutter as Steve began to rock into him.

“That feel good, babe? You're so damn wet for me.”

There weren’t words for how fucking good it felt. Thane groaned incoherently, nipping Steve’s jaw, breath fleeing his lungs as another plunging thrust sent a wave of fire surging through him.

"You'll be good for me and wait to come till I’m ready, won't you?"

Steve’s fingers wrapped tight around his cock, pumping him in time with each deep, slow thrust. Thane's fingernails dug into the console, and he nodded.

"I know you can do it. Controlled guy like yourself, I gotta make it good for you. Make it worth the wait."

You were always worth the wait, Thane thought, unable to form the words. One hand gripped him by the hip, Steve's thumb slotting perfectly into his pelvic frill.

In the dim lighting, Steve's eyes reflected the myriad points of light from the windscreen and dashboard, twinkling as he moved with barely restrained purpose. His brows came together as he panted and leaned in, setting a pace that Thane felt would set them both aflame - long, plunging thrusts that hilted on every stroke, taking him to the stars and back as the seconds divided and multiplied into fathomless ecstasy.

“God, you are so damn beautiful,” Steve said, teeth scraping his lower lip. “I’d have you like this every day if I could.”

Thane returned the gesture, cradling Steve’s jaw as they kissed. "You'll just have to find more excuses to take the shuttle into orbit, then."

"I think I could swing that,” Steve panted. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of fucking you in front of a field of stars.”

A strangled, nearly pained gasp escaped him as Steve abruptly squeezed along his cock in a gesture he knew was meant to take him to the brink.

"Not yet," Steve leaned down to whisper. "Just a little longer, babe. You get so hot inside when you're close. Feels so damn good.”

"Melithas-"

He gasped when he pulled out, readjusted, and drove back home again, gaining speed until he was being well and truly railed into the dashboard. His ruined cries of desperation were lost to the frantic kiss they shared as Thane held on with what remained of his fraying control, wanting what they both needed - the visceral ecstasy of mutual release. And between them, the sweetest torture - Steve’s fist pumping him raggedly as his body was taken, filled again and again in the throes of bottled-up lust.

He couldn’t take it a moment longer. He never wanted it to end.

"Come for me, Thane."

His vision went white. Steve hilted one final time, swollen cock lodged deep inside his slick channel, dousing him from the inside out with thick, pulsing spend that warmed him within and without. Thane crested with him, gasping as his release poured into his lover's hand, rolling down over Steve's fingers and further still to the scorching heat of their joining. Steve pulled their bodies flush as they came, grinding out their mutual climax until they were both sated, panting, and spent.

Lucidity returned to him with the crawling chill of space and the silence of idle engines as they drifted in orbit. In contrast with the warmth of Steve’s body, he felt the instrument panel digging into his backside and began to stretch his limbs. Neither man wanted to separate.

“Melithas,” he murmured, palms pressed flat against Steve’s back, face tucked against his neck. “From the depths of my soul, I love you.”

Thane could hear the smile on Steve’s face as he held him tight and whispered back, “I love you, too, Thane.”

They dressed each other slowly, taking care to clean up as they went. Steve’s pupils were wide in the low light, his mind no doubt swimming with drell venom. Thane winced. In his haste, he hadn’t considered the logistics of returning to Earth in such a state.

“Plot a course for the Triton waypoint,” Steve said as they settled back into their seats. “We need their controllers to give us groundside status before re-entry.” He tossed Thane a wink. “I’ll be fine by then.”

Their hands met as the thrusters kicked on and they sailed forward. In the vacuum of space, they couldn’t feel their acceleration. If he closed his eyes, it felt like being aboard the Normandy again. Like home.

In the silence, Thane quietly wondered when he’d next have the opportunity to hold him, love him, worship him as they had in the months before the war. But peace, while difficult in its own way, promised them a beautiful future.

The memories would be enough until then.

#zet writes things #kriortez #thane krios #steve cortez #thane krios x steve cortez #priority: discord #secret santa #mass effect fanfiction

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afreakingdork · 1 year

Text

Weak Spot - Chapter 7

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort

Synopsis: When falling in love is the easy part where does the difficulty lie? In a society where we’re defined by our job, it’s those little details as a relationship goes on that ends up setting a course for whether or not a couple can make it in the long run.

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

Settling into your seat, you trapped your tongue to the roof of your mouth. Now that you were in a dry cab, any movement exaggerated how wet you were. While Donatello had tried his best, you were still soaked through to the point that your clothes either clung or created a pool where they wrenched from your skin. Sneaking a peak to your partner, you found him set in a statuesque manner that you had a feeling was to minimize similar sensations. He was staring at the street outside and looked especially dashing against with the droplet covered cab window. The rain drowned out the quiet noise of the radio and as you watched trickles streak from the taxi’s speed, you became hyperaware that it was heading to your apartment.

“So, I’m gonna assume you already knew where I lived?” You tried to balance the weight of chide in your tone.

Donatello didn’t shift, but one of his cheeks seemed to puff up in what you assumed was him suddenly clenching teeth.

You waited him out, pushing your back into the leather with an uncomfortable squish.

You watched the moment he arrived to an answer and took great care in only having to turn his neck to view you. “Should I prepare myself for this to be a thing?”

“What?” You smiled. “Where I repeatedly bring up how you broke into my phone and gathered up a bunch of info on me?”

His brows came together with scant irritation. “First, those are not mutually exclusive.” He reached a hand out and placed it in the center seat that separated you before using it to stabilize himself as he leaned over the space. “Second, I was forthcoming.”

You tilted into him. “Good to know.” You then turned back towards the window as if you gathered all that you needed.

The way your cushion held its tilt said he refused to retreat. “Do you think you’ve tricked me somehow?”

You tucked a grin into the corner of your mouth. “I wouldn’t say it like that. It was more like I’d been wondering.”

“You’re curious.”

Watching a particular cluster of water droplets split apart as the cab took a turn, you narrowed your gaze. The simple sentence sounded odd; it was as if he had forgotten to inject inflection. It brought your head around. You found him still bridging the gap with even features.

Both of you stared at each other for a long time before he seemed to feel the need to clarify. “About me.”

Though you hadn’t recovered near enough from the events of the day, a little amused disbelief snuck onto your face. “Well, yeah.”

He blinked his gaze away and then right back. “If you had a question why not ask it outright?”

That same sneaky emotion intensified. You had the answer but hesitated. While you weren’t trying to levy knowledge over him, you weren’t sure if you were ready to give away another one of those little conversational quirks of his that you had picked up. Searching his face found the usual blank canvas. You wondered how far he would push it if you decided not to explain. Looking away to debate the options, the cab took another turn. This one turned the car right and you could feel the extra weight as Donatello kept himself still against the force.

You gave a small defeated sigh and decided to take a shot at trying to curtail a straight out blurting of the information. “It’s like how you said you were forthcoming or whatever.”

You refused the tug of his gaze.

“You choose your words very carefully. It means you’ll drop things like ‘I looked into you’ when I’m not really prepared to take that as seriously as I should.”

The pressure on the seat intensified and for a moment you thought he’d reach out. Instead, he retreated. Though he hadn’t offered anything to assuage it, you felt all the more cold.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said tepidly after a little bit of time had passed.

Staring down at the floor, you noticed a penny half shoved under the mat.

“You’re still concerned.”

After digesting the phrase, you finally looked at him. If he meant from today, that should have been obvious so he must have meant something else. You studied his profile until it came to you. “I mean, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still interested in you.”

His gaze sharpened with a negligible lid drop and he mumbled something. It was fresh enough on your mind that you were able to decipher it.

“Nope, not mutually exclusive.”

Instead of turning his head, you watched his pupil move to evaluate you. “How do you do it?”

You opened your mouth in question.

“We’ve arrived!” The cabby spoke.

You caught the man’s eye in the rear-view mirror and then looked back to find Donatello turned away. You gave a sad smile at the back of his head. “Thank you again for today…” He didn’t respond so you shuffled over to make for the door handle. Slipping your fingers under the latch, you popped it and heard the thick shift of wet fabric. It wasn’t enough to give you pause so you gave a little push. The first bit of rain tried to sneak through the cracks and the sound overtook Donatello saying something to the driver. Before you could turn you had a feeling what was happening. Using your knee to press the door open fully, you caught sight of Donatello in the middle seat with that strange umbrella of his in hand.

“This again? Really?” You looked between him and the object dryly.

“Just to your front door.”

“That’s not…” Hanging a foot out onto the sidewalk, you pushed out of the vehicle. Only a few droplets made their way onto your head before the umbrella extended out of the vehicle to cover you. “And you say I’m stubborn?”

His voice came in close as you hadn’t moved far from the cab and he nearly pressed up against you. “I also never said I wasn’t. Regular humans are more susceptible to illness.”

“Isn’t that an old wives’ tale?”

“Yes, but lowered body temperatures can weaken your immune system while the humidity makes it easier for bacteria to proliferate.”

Unmoving, you tipped your head back to get a look at him. His jaw looked particularly sharp from this angle. “Alright, Dr. Donnie, so you’re doing this because you’re worried about my health?”

He looked down his snout at you and gave a small frown.

Breaking eye contact, you took your first steps away from the cab and he staunchly followed with the cover overhead. You hopped the stairs up your stoop with ease and turned abruptly to face him when you hit the landing.

He looked over your door for a moment and then landed back on you with what seemed to be a the barest struggle.

You tilted your head in a show of patience.

His mouth opened and then closed up tight.

You gave your head a shake to signify you’d given up and went to root your key out of your bag. Your fingers had just brushed the ring when he finally found the words.

“I didn’t like the way you looked.”

Pulling your keys out in time with lifting your gaze to him, you arched a brow. “What?”

He had now chosen to stare back at the cab which idled at the curb. “The rain.”

“You’re going to have to put those separate thoughts together.”

You watched his grip on the umbrella tighten. “When it was streaming down your face. It made it look like you were crying.”

Your jaw didn’t drop, but it was enough surprise to make your lips part. “But you moved so fast. I was only in the downpour for what? A few seconds at most?”

That little frown that had yet to leave him deepened. “It’s not an emotion I care to deal with.”

You carefully etched his struggling expression to memory. “You must have known I was upset from how I contacted you. There was the very real possibility that you would have had to.”

He gave a single tight nod.

The rain filled the air and with him not giving you anything else, you looked over your keys. “Sorry for holding you up, I know the meter’s running.” You shifted to put them into the lock.

“That’s not-”

Swiveling your head, you found that he had at some point crept in very close and seized up as you caught him. You looked down to see his fingers curled inches from your arm before turning your attention back to his face.

“I understand that it can be inevitable, but I would rather you not express it.”

You gave him a dull look. That was a far too clinical way of putting something that seemed sweet.

“I told you what to expect with me.” His arm retracted back to his side.

You watched it before studying the way the moisture collected and bubbled out on his mask. From what you had gathered about his standards, he had gone to some great lengths today. Looking back to where your key was still half-inserted into the lock, you felt your shoulders slouch. Today had been far too much and you still felt like a hollow version of yourself. “I… It’s not you. I’m not thinking clearly. I really do appreciate all you did. I think I just need a hot shower and some sleep...”

The rain tamped unevenly on the umbrella and you finally turned the lock. The door shifted with its freedom and you reached to grab the handle. Out of your periphery you saw a flash of green and black as his hand shot forward, past you, and pressed the frame shut. Your lips pursed as you reviewed his action and then moved to examine Donatello. His eyes were slightly wider than normal and, from the little information you read, he was just as surprised by the action. You watched as he came back to himself and then hitched his brows as he tried to make sense of it all. It rapidly softened your heart.

“I’m gonna guess that’s both of us, hm?” You shifted on planted feet to glimpse him behind you over a twisted shoulder.

His eyes struggled for a moment before he wrenched them away from the door and to you. There they evaluated you until his lids lowered. He poured himself further into your space. “You don’t need to give me an out. I’m fully aware of my actions.”

“Sure.” You steeped your gaze with sarcasm.

“Petulant.” He scolded and drew closer.

Despite your dampened attitude, your heart seized. These weren’t the ideal conditions for this, but the constant interruptions were starting to compound. You tipped your head to convey your accessibility. He gave you a once over and you thought he’d close the gap when you heard the sound of the door being opened. His face didn’t seem to betray the action, so you looked away to find he was indeed holding it open. When you brought your gaze back he had retreated. You might have been annoyed if there weren’t the faintest timid air to him. “Do you think you’ll be in an adequate mental state to reschedule our lunch for tomorrow?”

He was considerate to a fault. You straightened up and gave yourself a little shake. Coming out of it, you found him still waiting with his head tipped down. He seemed especially wary as if he were prepared for his body would betray him again. You wanted to pinch his cheeks, but shoved the sensation down. “Maybe. Can we tentatively plan on it?”

He turned the query over for a moment. “Considering the circumstances, I suppose I can accommodate that.”

“Thank you.” You dipped under his arm and the move made it so he could open the door fully. “Text me when you get home?”

He gave a single nod.

You gave him a little wave and headed in. A creak signaled the door was closing soon after and just before it shut you could have sworn you heard something about getting warm. When you looked back you saw the faint outline of Donatello retreating to the cab.

It was less unfortunate and more a simple fact of the universe that your roommate sniffed you out as soon as she got home. She pinged that you were not only early, but had somehow had enough time to shower while also hiding yourself away in your room. She had left all her belongings in a trail across the apartment as she descended upon you. She had bundled you up as you carefully recounted the day. She then ushered your swaddled form to the living room couch and made soup as you continued your tale. She dolled it out and as soon as she was caught up, she’d already cancelled her plans for the next day. With the inevitable treatment of endless movies and pizza now looming over your Saturday, you got a hold of your phone.

Donatello’s arrival text waited there along with a surprising confirmation of his change into warm clothes. It might have been the soup, but you cradled your device close and gave him an extremely simplified version of the events since parting. Though you hadn’t mentioned her much, he seemed to easily accept your roommates meddling and in another shock had offered a provisional go at Sunday. The way he was willing to bend over backwards was what really allowed you to categorize the heat pooling in your cheeks. As soon as your friend got sight of you, she switched from comforting to voracious.

You both stayed up late as you gave an edited version of your relationship thus far. Your roommate had scoffed at several things and you watched on fondly as she ranted. She always had your best interests at heart and the thought of spending the next day with her was sounding increasingly enticing. She’d shooed you off to bed sometime after midnight with the many promises of the Saturday to come. It might have been all the spoiling, but, in a minor daze before plugging your phone in for the night, you shot off a message to Donatello about how’d you badger him all the next day with your lazy activities.

When you awoke many hours later, you blearily stared at a response that passively accepted the announcement as if it were an inevitability. It’d been such a high that you didn’t even care it was immediately followed up by stipulations that his phone would be silenced, it was only allowed for the one day, and he’d reserve the right it ignore any message he saw fit. Heart beating a little too fast for the time, you could still feel the traces of emptiness inside you. Overall, thankfully, sleep had done wonders. With work still set to continue Monday morning, you were sure it was going to be an ongoing process. Until then, you’d take it day by day which meant starting this one with a bedhead selfie sent to the object of your affections.

Though you put no effort into the shot, you’d flung your phone away and fled to wash up. You returned to find a wall of text that seemed to be something of a New York law regarding the use of texted images. The legalese proved to be a bit too much for you, but you got the gist being something about personal use of photos sent voluntarily. There was no way to know for sure, but you had a feeling he’d sent that as a way to say he’d be saving the photo. The thought alone propelled you running right into your roommates room without knocking and jumping directly on top of her still sleeping form. Many curses were shared, but it was the start of your day together.

Eventually pizza was ordered and you parked yourselves on your respective sides of the couch. Your roommate immediately hit play on the first movie in your watch list and you badgered her for not letting you decide. She scolded you for that being why your queue was so long and eventually the doorbell rang. Your roommate juggled an enormous stack of boxes and you gawked as you helped split the load. She joked about it barely being enough for one day and you bopped her with one of the plates you gathered. Between eating, lounging, and the constant string of distracting lights from the television, you slowly felt a reclamation of normalcy. You peppered the day with little updating texts on how a movie was or shots of your never ending slices to Donatello. He added little comments that didn’t necessarily hold great content, but gave you a sense that he was there. It added to the comfort and it was around the time that the sun was waning behind buildings but not quite set when your roommate made for a tub of ice cream she’d been hording.

You were unchecking the films you’d watched from your list when you heard the clanging of spoons against bowls.

“Oh.”

You gave an absently curious hum as you scrolled down a line of movie posters.

“He’s holding something back.”

Stopping and staring down the length to where the remote was raised in your hand, you chewed your lip. “Uh huh?”

“Sorry, realization.” Your roommate appeared in the corner of your eye and passed you a bowl with far too many scoops in it.

“The suspense is killing me.” You gave her a flat stare which you then turned with growing fear at the mountain of cream.

“Your boy toy.”

That got your attention. “Okay, wait, go back.”

Your roommate gave a knowing smile from around the spoon in her mouth. “Now you pay attention.”

“Sometimes you just ramble!”

“One: rude. Two: It’s because I have so many good things to say!”

You waved her off before pulling yourself out from where you had begun to fuse with the cushions. “Let me be the judge of that.”

She shot you a dirty look but relented. “There was that weird air yesterday, which is like yeah, yesterday was fucked, but also it seemed like he was rubbing you the wrong way, right?”

An image of petting appeared in your head and you drowned it out with a huge scoop from your bowl. You instantly got a brain freeze and scrunched yourself up around the sensation.

“Nice one.” You roommate rolled her eyes. “From what you described it sounds like he’s holding himself back.”

“From…” You pushed your tongue to the roof of your mouth to abate the pain. “… What?”

She shrugged. “You almost caught him touching you multiple times, so probably that?”

“Well yeah we almost kissed…” You pulled your knees up to balance your ice cream.

“More than that, even during the first almost kiss, it sounds like he didn’t actually touch you.”

You searched the milky depth for the memory. He’d indeed gone to great lengths to prevent doing so. “Weird…”

“As much as he’s an enigmatic ass, he’s also like a well trained dog.”

You swiveled your head to her with mild offense.

She had a coy smile on her lips along with a blob of chocolate dotting the corner of her mouth. “Look, he follows orders! Did you accidentally give a command?”

Brows still knit in light irritation, you tried to speed through your dialog. You had mostly focused on his so yours fell by the wayside. “I… don’t think so? That doesn’t make any sense though!”

“Uh huh, that’s the part of him I’m not into.”

“Yeah, yeah, red flags.”

“The fact that you acknowledge it and willingly aren’t pushing it kills me.” She waved at you and you watched her curiously. She then pointed to your phone and you brought it up. “I don’t know when I can do a proper shovel talk, but I’d rather send a message now just in case.”

You pulled your device in close. “I get where you’re coming from, but he’s also…” You grimaced. “Ugh, it sounds bad, but he’s trying. I don’t know the whole story, but I like him a lot. You know I have a pretty good sense about people and I’m careful.”

Her usual playful air dissipated and she eyed you. She didn’t close out the examination and instead pointed to your phone again. “Selfie.”

Frowning, you brought up the camera. As you turned it to the front facing one, you felt the couch dip. As soon as the screen flipped you watched as she thread one arm around your body and the other came up to slice at her neck in the universal ‘you’re dead’ signifier. You made a show of rolling your eyes and snapping several pictures in rapid succession. As soon as you finished, your roommate retreated back to the comfort of her ice cream and you sent the best of the bunch to Donatello. His response came almost immediately.

Donatello: Is that your roommate? It’s good to know at least one of the tenants in that apartment has sense.

You scowled and turned to show the response to her.

She laughed brightly. “Okay, maybe I kinda get what you mean.”

After staying up far too late and sleeping in far too long, you rushed to make it to your lunch with Donatello on time. You found him waiting outside the establishment with a casual air. You greeted him with your usual beam and caught the way he seemed to close off at it. With your roommate’s guess fresh in your mind, you decided to keep an extra eye out. Between the delicious food, you for distracted prodding your companion about his knowledge. You ended up coming away from the meal now knowing that it seemed to encompass an insane amount of fields. It was as if he’d somehow gotten a discount on buying PhDs in bulk. It also meant you were more at a loss at his profession than ever. Refusing to sulk, you lead the charge outside and did a quick pivot to catch him in case he tried to scatter to the winds.

“Do you have other plans for today?”

He let the restaurant’s door close and stepped out of the way of impeding it. “Not until this evening. I assume you have something in mind?”

“How about walking lunch off and heading towards the farmer’s market?”

“Walking off this meal or yesterdays?” He questioned but headed in your direction.

You blew a raspberry. “I’d have to run a marathon if that was the case. We ate nothing but junk all day!”

“It raised your spirits.” He gave you a side glance as if he were passing judgment.

“It did. I’m dreading tomorrow a little, but I’ll be okay.” You thoughtfully tucked your hands into your coat’s pockets. Early spring tinted the air with a slight chill, but it was comfortable with breaks of sunshine leaking between skyscrapers.

Donatello chose not to comment and for a few blocks you both walked in comfortable silence. It was as you waited at a crosswalk that you started to sense something was off. Sneaking glances at your companion found nothing exact, but there seemed to be a palpable sensation you couldn’t name. Again, your roommate’s words echoed in your mind. You’d gotten a little too wrapped up in your questionnaire and tried to sweep back through lunch’s events. On recall, you found Donatello had gone for far more napkins from a pile between you than he ever used. Trying to reassemble the table’s layout, you weren’t exactly sure but you thought it happened to be close to where your arm was. It wasn’t conclusive enough so you rolled back further. You’d finally had enough wherewithal to pay for a meal and when you’d turned to him after doing so, he seemed closer, but again it was an uncertain dead end.

Pushing your lips into a tight line, the signal switched and you both crossed amongst milling pedestrians. Sunday seemed to seep in the area and there wasn’t as much of a rush as there usually was. You took the time to admire the surrounding stonework as you passed. It sparked another question from your list and you turned to shoot it off at your companion. You caught him with his hand seemingly swung out as if he were speed walking even though you knew for a fact he wasn’t.

You stared at it curiously before looking to his face.

He kept his eye staunchly forward and momentum pulled the appendage back to his side.

“How about architecture?” You drew out the question lazily, still studying him.

“I can name the designers of most of the iconic buildings, but it’s not something I studied at length.”

“Huh.” You marked the syllable with dry huff.

He grew quiet again and you tried to work out what it was exactly. Turning back to the sidewalk ahead, you picked over what was in reach. The offender had been his arm closest to you, but there wasn’t exactly anything to grab. Your hands were still in your pockets and with his height, you couldn’t imagine more than him walking with his hand on your shoulder. The thought was laughable and you unearthed a fist to close off any giggles by pressing it to your lips. As soon as you did so, you felt a tight seize from Donatello. He was only in your periphery, but he seemed especially at attention. You desperately wanted to ask, but you just knew as soon as you brought attention to it, he would squash the supposed unruly reaction. Dropping your arm limply to your side, you caught the way Donatello’s intense eye caused his head to dip down as he traced it. It hit you all too fast.

He wanted to hold your hand.

Giddy bubbles overflowing like a shaken soda turned your head all the way away as if you were still looking at the buildings.

That couldn’t possibly be it.

You chased the thought with a broom and dust pan. It had to be categorized away into the wishful thinking you often caught yourself in. All you knew for sure was that he had interest in you. Even though it wasn’t spoken, it was a known fact as you continued to seek each one another out, but he’d overtly turned down romantic notions. Enjoying his companionship was high on your list and besides the ever growing desire to actually commit to a kiss, you were satisfied with what you currently had. Still an image of clasped hands appeared and you felt a momentary high put pressure on your ear drums. A smile wrinkled your lips and you were glad you turned away. It was in this motion that a glass windowed business passed by your vision and you caught a sight that made you all the more light headed.

From your other side was Donatello reaching out towards your hand. Your stomach flipped and your fingers clenched reflexively. You watched in the window as he pressed his lips together in dissatisfaction and his other arm came around to soothe his failed one. One hand clenched the elbow closest to you and he turned his attention away. In the last pane of the building, you watched his fingers dig into his coat.

He was holding back.

Turning your head forward, you tried to think of the best course of action. You were sure you could easily rectify the current situation by just grabbing his hand and he’d allow the action, but that wouldn’t solve the bigger issue. He had implied in the cab on Friday that you could always ask him and you already had a testament to his honesty, even if it were often shrouded. Knowing that, he was sure to give some half answer since, by the way the way he struggled, he seemed just as perplexed by whatever was happening. Head tipping as you formulated, you thought about how to catch him in the act. You’d nearly caught him a number of times and he had always gone on as if nothing had occurred. It couldn’t just be almost, you had to catch him when he’d actually executed whatever move. A small smile played on your lips.

Tipping your head upward, you pulled your other hand out of its pocket. You then let your arms swing a little more freely as you caught sight of several pigeons on a nearby ledge. “How do the mutations work?”

“Are you sure that’s a subject you want to delve into?” There was a smug air to Donatello’s words.

“Ah, got a science explanation ready?”

The air shifted and you could tell from his tone that he soured. “If only it were that clear. There have been notable exceptions to whatever rules I try to put in place. There’s a frustrating element of mysticism.”

He had put a strange amount of emphasis on that last word. It flagged it as something to remember going forward. “I guess I’m just curious how the animals get picked.”

He was quiet as he gathered his thoughts. “Again, there are quite a few variables.”

“Okay…” You feigned as if that were difficult even though the conversation was thankfully playing out in your favor. You lifted the arm farthest from him and pointed at the next set of pigeons bumming about wherever they could roost. “Let’s say, why aren’t there more pigeon mutants? Isn’t there something like more pigeons than rats in the city?”

Out of the corner of your eye you watched him follow your guide. You moved a little bit closer to him as he digested the question. “You make a good point. It’s unfortunate that I’ve have had the pleasure of meeting a pigeon mutant.” There was a palpable disdain oozing from the sentence that made it very apparent he’d some kind of extremely negative encounter with a rat.

Your heart sank as you wondered if you had dashed yours chances by accidentally stepping on a land mind. You scrambled to shove the subject back into the right track. “So, the amount of the animal might have an effect?”

“If I were to attempt to explain it simply, than you could say it tips probability.” His sour attitude seemed to lessen with each word.

You mentally wiped your sweat away. “What’s the probability exactly?” You made it a few more steps and watched as two pigeons tapped beaks cutely from above. “And not the numbers I mean!”

He seemed amused by your save and you felt yourself finally in the clear. “For a human, you’ll usually mutate into a recombinant version of whatever animal you were last in contact with.”

“Zookeeper!” You rounded on him making sure to use your far hand in accusation.

“I was not created in that way.” He seemed to gloat more and more with each of your wrong guesses.

You turned away from him with a snap, but had maneuvered it that you were so close now that one little move would cause your shoulders to brush. You could sense how close his hand was to yours as each step brought them in near contact. In a final feign you played up as if you were thinking of another guess and waited as the silence filed in. Almost instantly that withheld aura cropped up and you could tell Donatello was once again suffering at his own hand. From where your fingers had lazily curled in a neutral position, you flex them out in a little stretch. He tensed instantly and your heart sped up with each step in anticipation. You willed him to finally go through with it as the air seemingly became oppressive. He wouldn’t even have to move at this point; he just needed to time the swing of his arm. Your heart surged as you felt the ghost of contact. Mind spiraling, you tried to come up with some kind of final push.

“We’re almost there.” It came off your lips because you could register that was the perfect move; it rolled up an honest truth, a warning, and a last call all into one.

You could see him falter in his steps before immediately scrambling to pick back up at your side. He slotted himself as close as you had before and you squeezed your eyes shut to keep from spoiling the moment. Steps continued to march forward and you leaned your fingers out an almost negligible amount. You felt that ghosting again, but this time it lingered. It was as if his hand were barely skirting the hairs on yours. You waited, unconsciously counting down to what seemed like an inevitable when he disappeared. You made it a few more steps before the missing echo of his telltale boots reached your ears. Popping your eyes open, you spun around to find Donatello hunched, fisting his hands in apparent fury.

“Don-?”

“I can’t take this!”

Your stomach bottomed out in a way that made your legs feel like lead.

“It’s constant, inane, and aggravatingly disobedient!”

Though you still felt at a loss, your head tipped to one side. Across from you Donatello was contracting so aggressively that it seemed like a blood vessel might burst. “Woah, hey…”

“Absolutely infuriating!.” He seethed.

You brought your hands up as he seemed like he could lash out and took a tentative step forward.

Instead of you rounding on you with anger, he snapped up with what almost looked like fear. “Stay back.”

The command had a lethal quality to it, but your feet didn’t seem to get the memo. Within another step, his hands came up as well. Still moving, your foot lifted to close the distance a little more. His body careened to one side and you desperately tried to track his unhinged tilt. Like a pendulum, he then shot in the opposite direction and was upon you. You stared up at his towering form. It wasn’t at all like when he’d tried to intimidate you. Instead he seemed to be teetering in an abysmal loss of control. Bringing your gaze down slowly and unsure about taking your eyes off of him, you tracked to find his fingers hovering centimeters from your arms. It was enough to completely shake off alarm for the confusion you’d had since leaving the restaurant. “Don, what’s going on?”

Your use of a nickname seemed to have the intended effect as a shred of his former self appeared. “I have not cleared-”

He stopped as you laced your expression with concern and he seemed to catch on that you had only done it as a means to get his attention.

He lowered his head until your were caught in his gaze. His eyes were nearly as wide as they had been when you thought he might attack your boss. Instead this time, the pinprick of his pupil seemed to correlate with manic distress. “I need you to listen closely.”

You gave a nod, keeping your eyes trained to his.

“I don’t like touch.”

“Oh…” You faltered, a new type of confusion settling in. “Okay?”

He exaggerated his features for a moment as if to double down on the statement.

Gaze breaking free, you searched his face where he seemed immovable on the subject. “I don’t mind? I think I just touched you the one time, but I can make sure to steer clear?”

He hissed as if burned and reeled away from you.

You watched on with budding awareness that this display heavily contrasted his usual unflappable nature. You’d seen cracks of it here and there, but on full display he seemed freed in a way that you might have regarded fondly were he not so distressed.

“It’s not you! Well, it is, but-!” He was moving again, nearly rocking as he attempted to pace. For whatever reason, he didn’t get more than a few steps to either side.

“Alright, let’s just-” You attempted to duck and weave to catch his eye. “Donatello, can you look at me?”

He shook his head.

“Okay, that’s okay.” Glancing at the few people on the street, you reviewed the buildings that lined it. “Can you step over here? Let’s move to the side.” You took your time making your way over to a small inlet worked into the stone near an alley.

Donatello shifted a few times before trailing after. As soon as he made it, he pressed a shoulder into the building to stabilize himself.

You mirrored his move and could feel the cold of the concrete through your layers. You closed your eyes in a form of accordance and focused on your breathing. For several minutes, everything seemed quiet save the sound of the city. With the way he had been able to sneak around, there was always a chance that he could have left all together, but you decided not to think about it. Instead, you slowly combed over the little information he had offered until he was ready.

When he finally spoke, it was in a low voice. “I didn’t intend for you to see that.”

Unsure if you should open your eyes, your brows knit. “Hey, it’s alri-”

“No.” The force lifted his tone and brought your lids up part way. Through your lashes you glimpsed that his steely expression had returned, but the mask had been placed in a hurry. A peek at his pearly whites showed his teeth were grit. “I pride myself on having more control. The fact that I buckled under a few compounding pressures…”

“Then…” You kept your gaze low. “How about we call it even? I don’t feel great about dragging you out when I was a shell of myself. We hadn’t even gone on a date yet.”

“It’s more than that.” His lips seemed to realize they were betraying his face and came to close the gap. “Besides, I’m glad-” As soon as the shield went up, it immediately malfunctioned and he sneered.

“Is it-” You pulled your own breaks, unsure if your usual nature of blurting things out was appropriate. Fiddling with your coat, you snuck a glance to find Donatello waiting with a look that seemed to urge you to form a distraction. You desperately hoped that reading was accurate as you opened your mouth again. “Is it a weakness thing?”

“Explain?”

The fingers that were picking at the breakpoint, fisted the fabric. “Admitting you like me or anything that might signify that. Do you not like it because it’s a weakness?”

This was usually around the time he’d punctuate something about you being presumptuous, but the quiet that followed was unnerving. You finally brought your gaze up fully and, instead of finding him put off, he seemed to be contemplating.

It meant there was a portion of truth to your question and you rotated until your back was pressed flat against the building. Even though you had a feeling, it didn’t feel great to see it confirmed. You weren’t sure if you could be with someone who thought of love in that way. You blinked twice, staring wide out at a passing taxi. That choice of word wasn’t right. At least, not yet. Putting further pressure into the concrete the eventuality took hold. You were getting so far ahead of yourself you wished you could strangle your own brain for even daring to think like that.

“I dislike the causality of it.”

Remembering you had been waiting, you whipped your head around to your companion. “Like cause and effect?”

“It means that somewhere along the line, in another infuriating loss of control, I allowed a series of events to take place that brought us to this moment.”

“Control, control… I’m sorry, Donatello.” You shifted to turn to him to also communicate that with your body. “I get that this is hard, but I don’t think I’m going to understand unless you explain it.”

He reached out and both of you watched as the hand neared your face. His other then appeared and snatched the wrist of the first. “There!” He glowered at the appendage as if he’d chop it right off. “I know you’ve seen it. I appreciate that you hadn’t called attention to it, but it keeps happening.”

You suddenly felt guilty for having tried to bait him earlier.

“As I said.”

“You don’t like touch.”

“Exactly.” He used the hand he supposedly had control over to put the unruly one back at his side. “And yet, my body continues to betray me.”

“Has this happened before?” You adjusted your coat and moved your arms to your side as he had done.

“Not this way.” He blew out an annoyed puff of air. “I might have had the urge, but when it played out I found the exchange repulsive.”

You mulled over his phrasing. “That bad, huh?”

He didn’t exactly relax, but he didn’t seem as strung up as he once was. “As a stickler as I am for data, it was the sort of thing that didn’t need much repeated testing to satisfy my hypothesis.”

“I see…”

“Which makes it dually frustrating because I already know the outcome and yet my magnificent mind is somehow choosing to both dump that info, something it has never done before, while also strengthening an exercise of my subconscious, something I had long trained otherwise.”

“Hence the control…” You spoke the sentence aloud more to confirm it to yourself.

“Yes.”

“And the causality thing is you aren’t sure how you ‘let’ that happen?”

“In a sense.”

You gave a little hum and kicked an errant pebble on the sidewalk. It skittered a bit before disappearing into a crack.

“I usually don’t see the need to clarify, but there was a chance you said it as a means to pacify me earlier…”

You looked to him.

“Are you alright going forward without touch?” He then broke away to shake his head off to the side. “I neglected to add it to my warning list.” He then cursed under his breath something about oversights before turning his attention back to you.

Mulling over the response, you decided with a small frown. “I’m not sure. Honestly, I’ve never been in a relationship like that, so I don’t know what I’d do, but then, pretty much everything else about this has been new to me…” You looked toward him with a tepid hope.

He regarded you evenly in a way that said he wasn’t sure where he landed on the matter.

“Though, I’m more worried about you at the moment.”

He gaze turned into a flat stare.

It seemed like his version of bewilderment and it made you smile. “Based on what you said, logic reigns supreme in that head of yours.”

He took the comment as appreciation and one of his brows rose a centimeter.

“And because of that, I can’t imagine that this conversation is going to fix your reaching out problem.”

For a moment his brows rose as he took in the information and then they came down as he appeared to come to a similar conclusion.

“Here.” You slowly brought you hands up and held them out in front of you. “You’re not wrong about how you feel or what you’ve decided and I don’t think I have some kind of magic touch that will make everything okay, but maybe you can try a quick graze to see if maybe that will at least get it out of your system?”

He tilted his head the slightest amount.

“I’ll stay totally neutral so it’ll all be on your terms.”

One of his hands came up and from its speed you weren’t sure if it was purposeful or not. He did, however, halt the appendage and give it a quick fist before squaring his shoulders. “Okay.”

“Okay.” You nodded back, raising your chin as if you were preparing yourself for some great labor.

His other hand joined his first and he slowed. “I believe you said you weren’t going to hold my hand.”

If you weren’t already poised, you might have fallen over. Your roommate’s comment on commands surged in your mind. “Please tell me you didn’t take that seriously?”

“Don’t be absurd.” He huffed and continued his trek.

He turned his hand over so that your palms would meet. You watched carefully as his fingers skirted the underside of yours before sliding along what you knew to be your fate line. It brought a certain heat that seemed to linger in the tips of your ears. His thumbs then closed in around the top of your hands and the sheer size of his appendages completely encompassed yours in a loose hold.

He became very still and you had to force your gaze to him. His eyes were once again wide, but this times his pupils had enlarged in an attempt to match up. His gaze was unfocused and gave you the impression of a hungry animal who’s turn at the carcass was just one away. Before you could look back down, he gave your hands a proper squeeze. It sent a fluttering sensation up your arm. You suddenly had to put a fair amount of focus into not returning the gesture. On your left hand, you felt one of his finger skirt downward and land precisely on your radial pulse. Your heart picked up on contact and your eyes squeezed shut as he surely felt the exact moment it did.

“I require further testing.”

Your eyes popped open to find that hungry stare now pointed directly at your face. “How so?”

You immediately wished you’d said something more clever, but it also seemed like forming the two words you had required all your strength.

“Your arms, if that’s alright?”

You gave a nod that felt far too small.

He was in motion again, but it was slow and methodical. He traced the lip of your coat, tucking a finger under it to chase the skin momentarily before relenting to move overtop the barrier. Everything fell away to just him as he then took a grip of your forearms and instead of just squeezing, gave a gentle rolling massage motion with his thumbs.

You felt weak at the knees and were assaulted by the memory of him throwing his arm over your shoulder and holding your hand from a few nights ago.

Had you both forgotten about that?

You wanted to voice the exception, but he intercepted.

“To the shoulders.”

It wasn’t even close to a question and his voice was thick with a sort of need. You felt drunk on the intoxicating amount of attention he was giving you, but you somehow found more words than before. “If you do, my hands are going to hit your chest again.”

You patted yourself on the back for slipping in at least a reference to the outlier.

“I don’t care.”

He really didn’t as he gently cupped your elbows on a journey to your upper arm. As he drew close, your fingers pressed into the taunt surface of his abdomen and you remembered feeling a similar hardness before. Knowing now he was part turtle, you wondered what the shell his coat was obviously concealing looked like. The thought evaporated as he reached his destination and let the length of his fingers curl around your shoulder and onto your back. You squashed your lips together to avoid making a pathetic sound over such a simple touch. It caused your fingers to tangle up in his shirt and you leaned your head forward to keep from acting further.

“More.” His voice was dark now and his head landed somewhere around the top left of yours.

Swimming in a head rush, you couldn’t find any need to respond. Still he refused to move and gave your shoulders tight squeeze as if you wake you up.

“Please.”

A buoy thought about how he was using so few words surfaced. You clung onto it to make your mouth move. “It’s fine!”

You hadn’t meant it to be so loud, but he surged forward and embraced you in a crushing hug. You were thankful for the force because it felt like the only thing keeping you upright. Unfortunately, it also caused the sharp lip of something across his chest to press uncomfortably into your face. With your head slightly down it narrowly missed crushing your eye and you wormed out a little noise of discomfort from where you were buried amongst his clothes.

The reaction was instantaneous. You knew you were moving, but not where when your feet left the ground. You landed, seated against something, before he pulled back. Dizzy from the whirlwind, you watched as he dipped down lower until you realized he was trying to catch your eye from where your head had lolled down. It took all you had to muster a question with your eyes.

“I know.” He had a weakened quality to his voice. “You can-” He took your hands and delicately cradled them by your fingers before bringing them up near his shoulders. “If you want.” He then shot you a look that nearly pleaded you to comply.

You wanted to tell him he didn’t need to ask.

You wanted to ask if this was still about gathering data.

You ended up unable to say anything and instead broke free from him to rush getting around his head. He moved in tandem and you were swept up in another hug that you returned by wrapping your arms around his neck. Your face settled in a crook between your arm and his head. With the full contact, you could feel the sensation of him relaxing as if he sighed deeply. No sound accompanied it and you felt the pressure on your end reach a head. It manifested in you giving him a tight squeeze and worming your face in as close as you could get it to him. He returned the gesture with a sharp compression of his own, before his arms parted to cradle one of your shoulders with one hand and the small of your back with the other.

Slowly you felt the steam release and the desperation tapered off. Unlike him, you allowed yourself a contended sigh and his thumb gently rubbed your shoulder blade. “You okay?” You mumbled into the thick of your arm.

He didn’t immediately respond, but you felt a bob in his shoulders. You identified it as a single chuckle. It was a gesture that could only be felt and not seen. It opened up a whole new world of little things about Donatello for you to uncover. You tried to temper the rush of excitement as there was still a chance this was a onetime thing. As if on cue, you felt his hands began to retract. You loosened your grip and he shifted in a way that brought your cheeks together as he continued to part. You were suddenly hyper aware as his face grew in your periphery. Your fingers accidentally hooked the back of his collar and he slowed at the sensation. It meant he came out with his lips skirting the side of your head as he turned inward to question you. Your breath hitched as you awaited what seemed to be continually put off. His gaze focused on your eyes and your lips parted in anticipation. While he didn’t look down, he seemed to catch the gesture and just barely tipped his forehead against yours before fully pulling away.

You made sure your hands were free and he let them cascade over his shoulders and down to his lapels.

It made sense in a sad way.

A kiss would probably be too much on top of everything else.

His hands freed themselves from your after a last caress to your sides before he brought them up to cover yours on his chest.

“You didn’t answer…” You murmured to yourself, still trying to suppress the fringe melancholy.

“I’m okay.” His voice sounded far clearer.

You nodded and prepared yourself to let go when you realized that you were perched on a metal railing. Your contact point on Donatello was keeping you upright and you quickly blinked away the other lingering distractions in favor of measuring your jump down.

“May I?”

Unsure of what he meant you nodded and he slotted his hands around your waist again, but this time in a far less romantic fashion. He then lifted you like a toddler and set you down on the ground. It took a moment, but you rounded your disrespect on him with a glower and venom. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” There was an airy quality to his voice that was surely put on just to be snarky but it made his relaxed aura all the more apparent.

“How’d it go?”

He gave you his patented look and translated he knew full well of how you had also indulged in the moment.

You rolled your eyes and tried not to recount the memory already. You were giddy enough as it was.

He adjusted his coat in a slick move and raised his head as if he finally had all the composure in the world. “I suppose there was always a possibility that I could be wrong. Ah, the accursed asymptote.”

You watched him curiously, trying to think back to anytime before the hug and failing miserably.

“The farmer’s market, was it?” He took a tentative step forward and there was an odd teasing quality to him.

It created a sense of dread in you that only foreboded the best things that would also just so happen to wreck you.

You wondered if he was aware of that fact or just caught up in finally being freed of his supposed ailment.

“Yeah…” You drew out the word and hesitated to join him. “You still want to go?”

“Why not?” He turned an even but carefree look onto you.

You shook your head at him. “No reason apparently.”

When you came out of the motion he had dipped alarming close into your personal space.

You wondered if at any point he could have been wrong about his mutation as he always seemed to slink around like a snake.

“For the record, I’ll be reassessing my hypothesis.”

He even slid on his S’s like one.

He came in until his nose almost touched yours. “That means further testing is required.”

He punctuated the point with a shift in his brows before perfecting his posture by your side.

He was absolutely aware.

You moved to join him and he offered his arm.

You gave him a look which he pointedly ignored. Forced to give up, you chuckled and tucked your fingers into the crook taking great care for that to be the only bit touching. You both began walking and he passed you a grateful tip of his chin at your thoughtfulness.

“Did you think love is a weakness?” The sentence popped out of you as if your lips remembered your earlier concern more than your brain did.

“Isn’t it?” He was quick to respond and you turned to look at him curiously.

Waiting there was the fingers from his other hand which he used to flick your forehead.

“Hey!” He hadn’t held back much and you used your free hand to rub the spot.

“Case and point.”

“That’s not fair, you-” You froze as you realized there was a clear insinuation there. You sputtered in a similar way as you had when you brain had suggested the same thing. “I-I don’t-”

“Of course not, you’re just slow and gullible.”

Annoyed at a number of things, you pinched his bicep.

The corner of his mouth turned up in tempered amusement.

“I could just leave…” You huffed.

“Be my guest.” He eyed you to see how you’d handle your bluff.

“I believe ‘wicked’ will be a great first addition to your negative list.” You relented by turning away from him to pout into the sidewalk.

You felt a comforting tap of his hand against yours before it returned to his side. “Good choice."

#rottmnt #rottmnt donnie x reader #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #donatello hamato #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #me #fanfiction #my fanfiction #weakspotfic

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cosmereplay · 8 months

Text

Happy Fanfic Friday! This week we have a heartwrenching fic featuring Evi's relationship with Renarin, and a thoughtful exploration of gender.

Unto Themself by freoduweard

Rated General, 1500 words, Evi & Renarin. Vorin society binds its people with strict categories of what they can and cannot be, what they can and cannot do. But what of those who don't quite fit? What of those who exist beyond the confines of those narrow definitions?

Not for the first time, she mourned the constraints of this kingdom she and Toh had fled to, that they would lead her child to believe that they could be man, woman, or ardent, and nothing more. At this point in her life, Evi knew that she would never truly understand why these Vorin people would deny all the myriad facets of life to their children, or even more, define them by which path they chose. And what of those that defy the confines that their people would bind them in? Perhaps that was the difficulty that Renarin struggled with, perhaps not. Raised in this Alethi environment of conflict and boundaries, forced into a single choice of ‘man’, ‘woman’, or ‘neuter’, they might feel different and never even know that there were possibilities beyond those, one more alienation to set them apart. But how to explain the existence of such concepts to one so young…? He sat beside her, tucking his feet in one overtop the other, taking hold of his ankles and swaying slightly, the motion so tiny that most would miss it unless they were watching closely. But Evi saw. She knew what to look for. Lifting her uncovered hand, she asked, “May I?” Renarin nodded, accompanied by a more noticeable side-to-side rock, and his eyelashes fluttered as she ran her fingers gently over their head, the soft, rhythmic strokes parting gold-streaked black like inlay in obsidian. The sight sparked an idea. The Alethi — and her husband amongst them — scoffed at the beliefs of the home she had fled from, but she had already gifted her children with her first language, and to give them a different perspective would be an even greater blessing, one that she has few opportunities to bestow. “Did you know, my little star, that back in Rira, where I come from, there are people that decide when they wake up in the morning if they wish to be a man or a woman that day? And there are some who go their whole lives as neither — not as ardents do, in renouncing part of themselves, but going further and choosing to not be constrained by being either. “It is like your name.” Surprised at that, he glanced up, his feelings betrayed only by the slight widening of his eyes — blue blue blue, your father’s eyes. She brushed a wayward strand of hair away from his forehead. “Your name means yourself — not tied to anyone or anything but you, free to make of yourself what you will, and not be beholden to how other people would try to define you.”

Keep reading

#fanfic friday #stormlight fanfic #renarin kholin #evi kholin #Evi being Riran offers an opportunity for gender exploration outside the Alethi norm #anyway I love her #oathbringer #ob spoilers #oathbringer spoilers

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damistrolls · 2 years

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1, 2, 9, 17, 18, 34, 50, and 56 for Inavis <3

1. What’s the lie your character says most often?

"I don't care" he cares a whole lot abt most things actually. he feels strongly abt stuff hes just good at being nonchalant abt it. but internally, hes got strong feelings, and strong opinions

i mean sure there are things he doesnt care abt, but more often than not, he cares and he just doesnt like people knowing it

2. How loosely or strictly do they use the word ‘friend’?

i'd say he's somewhat on the loose side? to him, the line between acquaintance and friend is kinda blurry and he really doesnt care to set a hard line between who is and isnt a friend. if pressed abt his realtionship to someone who hasnt clearly defined it themselves, he'd say that he 'supposes' theyre friends, and leave it at that

9. Do they give tough love or gentle love most often? Which do they prefer to receive?

he tends to give a little of both? for most situations, he'll stick to the gentle side, until his loved one rlly needs a kick in the butt

he also prefers a mix for himself. he likes it when people know when to be tough on him, and when to ease up. he'd honestly feel kinda miserable if someone leaned completely to one side or the other

17. What do they notice first in the mirror versus what most people first notice looking at them?

other ppl would probably take notice of his weird eye, but he doesnt even register it anymore, since its always been that way. he'd be more concerned abt his hair. he fusses over it a lot bc its rlly long and thin so it tangles easily. he also rlly hates when his streaks are all over the place, so every time he glances in a mirror, he's checking to make sure it still looks good LMAO

18. Who do they love truly, 100% unconditionally (if anyone)?

froggy, naturally! xizaya too!

i wish i could say bax but nahhhh. he loves that guy, sure, but theres CONDITIONS there cause bax is an idiot

34. How do they greet someone they like / love?

idk, casually i guess? hes not overly affectionate, even with the ppl he loves. he can be sweet in private, sure, but when greeting his quads, he wouldn't do anything all that charming. he'd be more cool and casual and just like... fistbump em LMAO

50. What belief / moral / personality trait do they stand by that you (mun) personally don’t agree with?

he mostly only cares about the stuff that happens to his friends and loved ones, and can be completely unmoved by tragedies that befall strangers. he doesnt rlly think its his responsibility to care about stuff that doesnt affect him personally

56. If they’re scared, who do they want comfort from? Does this answer change depending on the type of fear?

he'd definitely want comfort from froggy and xizaya, since theyre the two people currently closest to him :] he wouldnt rlly trust anyone else to see him in a vulnerable state like that

#inavis #purple haze #leapfrog

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newsiegirlscout · 3 years

Text

Happy Holidays to the artist formerly known as magnificentdragon123! My sincerest for the belated Wordgirl Secret Santa; the request was for father-daughter fluff between Wordgirl and Dr. Two-Brains, so heck! Now you’re getting all of it! Hope you enjoy, and Happy New Year’s!

The charcuterie was a masterpiece.

Gouda blended with white cheddar exquisitely, swiss paired with gruyere like peppermint with gingerbread, and the miniature cheese fountain was worth the hassle at the hardware store a thousand times over. Dr. Two-Brains stood over it, rubbing his gloved hands together in gleeful anticipation before his thoughts were interrupted by a shout from the parlor.

“Bosssss!”

The scientist sighed. His henchmen had insisted on doing the Christmas tree lights by themselves this year, and predictably enough, they’d gotten tangled up in them trying to sort them out. The big guy, at least, had the decency to look a bit sheepish.

He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, then moved to gingerly unentangle the worst of it.

“Ah, what did I tell you guys? I have a PhD and a biological hardwire in recognizing patterns, I know you both want to bedizen the place, but you’ve gotta ask for help with the harder things.”

The henchmen looked at each other blankly; with a hand on his shoulder, the big guy was able to step out of the snare, but as physics would have it, the weight distribution made the little one lose his balance and fall back, taking the Christmas tree with him. Two-Brains squeaked and slid under the tree, firmly pulling the other side of the Christmas lights back.

“But Boss….” the little guy said softly amidst the blinking lights, “We don’t know what bedizen means.”

The scientist grumbled, shaking the cords off himself and grabbing hold of the tree so his henchman could get free. “Ask Wordgirl next crime. I’m a bit busy, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Sorry, Boss.” the little one said, pulling the last of the blinking lights over his head and righting the tree, “Say, do you think she’d like the holiday cookies we made for her? Charlie an’ I worked really hard on them…”

The henchman in question nodded shyly as they worked together to sort out the now-untangled lights. With one hand, the little one started counting. “We didn’t know what holiday she celebrated, so we got gingersnaps, gingerbread, peppermint bark, ras malai, sufganiyot, an’ balaklava!”

Dr. Two-Brains smiled, laughed softly in the glow of the lights and the fire.

“Aw, that’s really considerate, you two.” he said, ruffling the big one’s hair--or what hair he had, anyway, “I think she’ll really appreciate it, but remember, she’s taking a holiday now too. ‘Sides, I don’t pay you guys to be considerate. Evil thoughts only.”

The two saluted; the scientist turned to the silver garlands nearby and decided just one slice of cheese couldn’t hurt as he decorated the house. As he reached for it, the telephone’s ringtone chimed out across the parlor. Dr. Two-Brains sighed and answered it.

“Hel-lo, the doctor is in.”

“Dr. Two-Brains?” asked a shaky, high, and distinctively know-it-all voice. The man in question dropped the telephone, then scrambled to catch it as the henchmen turned around.

“Woah, woah, kiddo…” he said softly, “What’s goin’ on? Thought you only used that phone for emergencies...say, how’d ya’ get this number anyway?”

“It’s….”

A long pause followed.

“A little bit of an emergency. Can I come over really quickly?”

“My door’s always open, kid. Literally, every lock we’ve ever had’s been busted inside a week.” Then, with a more sympathetic tone, “Take as much time as you need, Wordgirl, I--the henchmen would really like to see you.”

The garage door opened slowly; Wordgirl, breaking a cocky grin in spite of her tone, for once looked at a loss for words. She floated lightly over to perch on the drawing board and ended the call.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” she said.

*******************************************************************************************

“Alright, alright, give her some space.” Two-Brains said sternly to his excited henchmen, “Wordgirl, what brings you here?”

She exhaled slowly. “All the stores are closed and I haven’t slept at all and my science midterm is tomorrow and I still have so much to do and you’re the only one I could think of calling at this hour and AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!” The superheroine waved her arms emphatically, nearly falling off the board; Two-Brains stepped forward, but she caught herself in time. Flying was useful that way, but it did little for the tears beginning to well up in her eyes. Desperately, she shook her head, looked away.

“Can I please study here? This is the only subject I’m still stuck on, but I’ll be really quiet, I promise!”

“Wordgirl, Wordgirl, Wordgirl.” Dr. Two-Brains said, shaking his head. Her grip tightened on her bookbag, embarrassment at asking darkened her face. But wearing a goofy grin, the villain tossed her a reindeer headband and replied, “Call this place a home, let us help with whatever you need, but don’t ya’ dare be quiet!”

Wordgirl laughed, brushed the tears away with the back of her hand.

“Well, then, Doc, you think we have enough road to get up to 88?” she giggled.

“We don’t need roads where we’re going.” he responded cheerfully. “To the kitchen, allons-y!”

*******************************************************************************************

There was a saying that all good stories began in the kitchen; Two-Brains himself certainly fit the bill, chattering absently as he melted the chocolate over the stove.

“So…got anything in there I can help with?” he asked, gesturing to the folder spilling over with old study guides and flashcards. Wordgirl looked up, shook her head.

“Ugh….the definitions are easy enough, but it’s all these reactive properties that are just impossible to get straight. What bonds with what, how much the force of gravity increases over an arctan….” Throwing her arms wide, she did a cartwheel in midair.

“Do I look like someone who knows how gravity should work?”

Two-Brains laughed. “More into the crime-fighting gig, ay?”

She gave a short, humorless bark of laughter, kicking back and reaching for the folder.

“Not doing so well on that, either.”

The scientist mused, pouring the first mug of hot chocolate and handing it to her. With a snap, he suddenly whipped out a blaster and fired it just past her shoulder. Lightning-fast, she dropped her mug and flew in front of it, shuddering as the blast hit her square in the chest. Behind her, the window broke, cracks spiderwebbing outwards.

“Alright! Well, there’s a start.” he said, sipping hot cocoa, “That’s gamma radiation; you stopped it so quickly you had to take the full and centered force of it, while the impact spread out more by the time it reached that window back there. That’s a difference of around 700 joules--since it’s an electromagnetic wave, and ya’ stopped it, you’re as strong as steel. You good, kid?”

She winced.

“You owe me a cookie.”

“I have great news for you!” he said cheerfully, hoisting her onto his shoulders and tossing her one of the henchmen’s cookies, “More science it is, then! What’s next?”

*******************************************************************************************

Wordgirl laughed, and it was music to Two-Brains’s ears after seeing her so out-of-sorts just a few hours earlier. The good mood was contagious, and he laughed as well; the henchmen chuckled softly, gathered up some of the loose pillows from the fight and walked towards their quarters.

“We should probably hit the hay. ‘Night, boss.” said the little one.

“You guys learned enough about forces?” giggled the superheroine, helping absently to gather up the pillows and stack them impossibly high in her arms. They nodded; the bigger one, Two-Brains noted, with an especial air of pride.

“Good, then you two should grasp the gravity of how far it is past your bedtime.” the older scientist said, rolling his eyes and blowing pretend, exaggerated kisses, “Mwah. Night.”

Wordgirl giggled; as soon as they were out of earshot, Dr. Two-Brains leaned in close to her.

“Don’t tell them.” he whispered softly, pulling out a few torn pages from the inside of his labcoat, “But eh, this place is doing a special on cheesecake, I’ve been meaning to use these for some time. You hungry?”

Halfway through a nod, she gestured to her uniform.

“It’s okay, I can’t really….” Wordgirl sighed. “I’d love to, but I’m a bit conspicuous. I should probably be heading home.”

“What, ya’ mean like obvious or easily noticeable?” Two-Brains said, “I get that--gonna say changing into your civilian identity is out of the question too?”

She nodded. “Not to say I don’t trust you, but…”

“But I’m a top-tier criminal and not likely to change that soon.” Suddenly, a thought occurred to him; he snapped his fingers and dashed to the nearest closet.

So now all there was to do was wait.

Snow fell softly outside the windows; a fire flickered in the hearth, and somehow her old friend’s off-key singing had an odd quality of beauty to it. Knowing the doctor, his idea could really have been anything from take-out to a criminal plot of drastic proportions.

Thus it could be concluded, decided Wordgirl as she drifted over to the bookshelf, that the good of Fair City asked--nay, demanded--that she wait just a few more minutes.

*******************************************************************************************

“How do I look?” said Doctor Two-Brains proudly, throwing his arms wide to display the gaudiest Hawaaiian shirt and patterned tie she had ever seen. His knee-length cargo shorts were the most aesthetically satisfying part of his ensemble, had they not been just slightly out of season for the four inches of snow.

“Great!” chirped Wordgirl, giving a thumbs-up. He nodded approvingly, straightened his tie in the nearest mirror, and jerked his thumb towards his van.

“No one’s going to notice ya’ when their eyes are on yours truly.” he declared, giving himself a wink, “I mean, there’s everyday handsome, and then there’s.” Doctor Two-Brains gestured to himself. The superheroine giggled, buckling her seatbelt and scanning over the list of flavors.

“Ooh, they have strawberry…” she mused.

“Goes well with your uniform.” he responded, giving her helmet an affectionate pat, “You sure you wouldn’t prefer red velvet, though?”

“Decisions, decisions.” she laughed, “What are you getting?”

“Mmm…” he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, “I’m thinking espresso.”

“What? No! I’m locking you up just for that.”

“Tssh...I’ll have you a convert in no time.”

*******************************************************************************************

Wordgirl laughed softly as she stepped out of Dr. Two-Brain’s van into the gentle, snowy night.

“Thank you so much, Dr. Two-Brains.” she said with a polite salute, “I still don’t see what you see in espresso cheesecake, but…” with a short, but deep sigh trailing off into a giggle, “It was really nice. Thank you.”

“Any time, kid.” he said, shaking her hand. “Hey, I know it’s a little early, but…”

A smile reddened her face as he lightly tossed a wrapped package to her; it hit her chest and she wrapped her arms around it, grinning as he sheepishly rubbed his neck.

“I don’t know if you’ve read it before or anythin’, but….merry Christmas if ya’ celebrate, happy holidays if ya’ don’t.”

A Hero’s Guide To Saving Your Kingdom. Not only had she never read it, but she’d heard of it and never been able to remember the title long enough to find it. The princes and princesses on the cover promised an exciting read; the four hundred pages or so promised a long one (or at least, an extra few seconds if she used her speedreading powers, but really, midterms took so long….).

Just as Two-Brains’s hopefulness almost fell, she slammed into his chest with the biggest hug he’d ever gotten in….about three years or so. Stumbling back, he wrapped his arms around her, chuckling with just a hint of satisfaction.

“Woah, kiddo, what’cha doing? You almost knocked me over!”

“Good.” she mumbled into his shoulder, squeezing him tighter, “That’d make us even for the particle demonstration.”

He laughed softly. “Alright, well, you better ace that exam, okay?”

She nodded, pulling away and hugging the book to her chest. “I think it’d be tricky not to.”

“See you around, Wordgirl.”

“See you around, Doctor Two-Brains.”

The scientist watched her leave before pulling the garage door closed behind him.

“She never closes it behind her.” he murmured amusedly, “Y’think she’d know better, there are some serious criminals in this part a’ town.”

With a smile, he sat back, poured himself a glass of juice, and sighed.

Yep; he was feeling like good ol’ Stevie B.

#wordgirl secret santa 2020 #wordgirl #waffles to go #dr. two-brains #I really hope this is satisfactory!!#only dad two-brains in this house #wg really appreciated the consideration in the sweets; most are in her bookbag #but two-brains might have sneaked some shhhh #also fun fact! I've had a bit of--#a streak of setting up a word meaning to define it and then not doing that #conspicuous is officially the first word actually defined and it was by 2B

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neopuppy · 3 years

Text

GO (M)

Preview: “Jaehyun? Why are you calling me so early?”

“Ah, sorry you’re probably heading to work. My stupid brother just cornered me on the way out pestering me to help him.”

“Little Jaemin? Aww don’t be so mean, what’s wrong?”

“This bum wants me to lend him money, as if he’d pay me back. He’s touring a couple universities in Seoul next week..”

“Ah, I see. Let me guess..”

“Do me this favor please? Let my little free loader brother crash on your couch?”

“For you? No. For my little baby Jaemin? Of course.”

Pairing: alpha Jaemin x female omega reader

Word Count: 6k+

Genre: a/b/o, pwp, smut, M/F

Smut Warning: mutual pining, heat sex, oral(F receiving), light ass play, body worship, biting, manhandling, submission, knotting

How many times am I going to have to lose my keys inside this bag before I learn? You grunt in irritation, groceries slipping from your strained fingers. A lick of sweat gathering down from your nape. A slow cold droplet lowers sending chills across each ridge of your spine. Sighing you squat down, splitting open your purse. Mentally cursing yourself out for constantly ending up like this.

Your coat feels heavy, boiling your skin up indoors now. The chilly air left beyond the doors to enter your building's complex. Your nose itches picking up on a waft of unfamiliar scent.

“Let me help you.” A voice echoes throughout the lobby. Trailing footsteps following, stopping at your side. The heavy aroma of alpha preceding, punching your lungs like an iron.

“No no!” Your initial panic subsides. Tearing your attention away from your purse. Neck arching back like slow motion, taking in every inch of the alpha before you. Built legs in snug fitted jeans bulging over firm thighs flex. Your breath hitches staring straight ahead. A pronounced lump sits between the alphas thighs. A clear shape cutting through the fabric tucking him away. “It’s…”

He squats down, gathering your groceries. Big eyes gawk back at you below thick eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. His mouth moves, bursting into a child-like giddy smile. Arms opening up as if he wants to engulf you.

“No!” You shout out alarmed. Scooting yourself away, scrambling back onto your feet to stand. Purse left open on the floor. Holding out your hands in a submissive manner. As any omega fearing their well-being may.

“It’s me!!” The alpha hesitates, moving in closer. Raising up his own hands signifying you have nothing to fear. “Jaemin!”

The name meets your ears muffled, sparking memories of a much younger, lanky, shy boy. A boy who blushed whenever you would so much as glance at him. A boy with arms at least twice the size smaller than the ones flexing with every shake of his hands.

“J-Jaemin??” You gawk, swallowing a dry gust of air. Slowly everything comes into sight. The duffle bag set behind him. The same soft eyes that once watched you full of adoration. Jaehyun teasing his little brother whenever you’d leave the room about his ‘crush’. The rise and fall of his chest calms the longer you stare. Defined pecs peak through the thin cotton material of his tshirt. A wear and tear evident in the threads that have come undone around his biceps. The shirt much too small for the alpha. Your mouth shuts, suddenly too aware of how long you’ve been checking him out. Internally cringing and sighing. Squishing together your thighs. Just in case.

“Yes! Jaemin! It’s me!!” He smiles softly. Blinking in relief, long straight eyelashes fan the tops of his cheeks. The tip of his nose glows under the fluorescent lobby lights. Bright streaks dance over his smooth skin, enhancing his still delicate pretty features. Jaemin sighs between the smile rounding out his cheeks. His top lip pouting out, lowering the tone of his voice- “you really didn’t recognize me?”

“No!” You speak up abruptly. Mouth twisting with another cringe. “It’s..I didn’t know. Your scent is so..”

Jaemin’s lips round out in ‘O’, thoughts coming together. “Jaehyun didn’t tell you I presented?”

“..no.” You finish, bending down to grab your purse. Jaemin lingers, bending at the waist to retrieve the groceries.

“Is.. is that okay?” He asks. Making no move to step closer despite the urge to scoop you into a bone crushing hug. Only coming to find you as his feet moved down the hallway. Mindlessly drawn to the hint of beachy scent.

His dreams often taking him back to sand crushed between his toes. Air heavy, filled with salt and ocean waves. Burnt skin covered in coconut creamy lotions steaming under the sun. It all brought him back to you. A freshly presented omega running down the beach. Screaming as Jaehyun circled around your waist, lifting you up. Sandy soles waved through the air. An ache passing through his chest as he watched on. Craving to trade places with his brother. The cool alpha he only wished to finally be someday.

Maybe then you would notice him, see him as more than some runt. How could you when he had to beg his mom to not ask you to babysit him. When Jaehyun would flex his arms in front of you setting off an embarrassing frenzy in your gut. The shy way you’d look off and smile only driving Jaemin crazier. Pocketing that memory for years to come, imagining himself on the receiving end.

“Oh of course!“ you nod too eagerly. Heels scuffing across the marbled lobby floor toward the elevators. “It’s just a few days.”

Jaemin throws his duffle bag over his shoulder following after you. He gnaws at his bottom lip entering the elevator alone with you. Doors dinging shut instantly stiffening your figure at his side.

“I thought you knew..” Jaemin whispers, almost too low for you to catch. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I should be the one who’s sorry..” you stammer, gazing in despair at the blinking numbers above the doors. Hand instinctively gripping the strap of your purse. Your eyes lower, noticing the scuff marks on the points of your toes. Heels worn down after working and shopping. “You probably think I’m so rude. Your scent just really caught me by surprise..”

Jaemin shifts foot to foot at your side, subtly brushing the tip of his nose on his shoulder. Sniffing himself curiously, a bit worried. More worried than he’d prefer to let on.

“Is it..is it like really bad?” He squeaks. The doors dinging like a breath of fresh air. You nearly hurdle yourself out into the wide hallway. Breath hitching caught in your throat as you fan for air.

“It’s totally okay Jaem!” You sigh out, relieved to create some distance with the alpha. Stepping on forward at a fastened pace, you bite on your lower lip. Mortified that just 2 minutes near him already had your hole gushing slick. The curse of being and unclaimed an omega.

With speed you jerk open your front door. The sound of your keys slapping the ground once you hoist the door open. Jaemin follows after you, only growing further concerned.

“If it’s not okay…” he begins. Entering your apartment taken over by a sudden wave of calm. His shoulders instantly relax, the tired ache in his muscles gone. Your scent everywhere, drawing up memories of rolling around in your bed whenever you’d gone to use the restroom. His eyes fall shut for a second, licking at the roof of his mouth. Mentally reminding himself to act cool. Gone were the days of acting like some horny teenage boy lusting after his brother’s best friend.

“It’s fine!” You step out of your heels. Feet practically howling in rejoice. Hissing silently to yourself, your fingers twitching to rub your numbed soles. Ignoring the need, you take the groceries from him. Continuing to lower your gaze in hopes of not losing your train of thought staring at the alpha yet again. “Thanks so much for bringing these up. I’ll start some dinner for us.”

You hobble away, directing Jaemin to the couch as you pass by. “Set your bag down! Hope you don’t mind.. the couch is pretty comfortable! I promise.”

Jaemin laughs, like holiday bells ringing at your ears. Your heart clenching in instantaneous reaction nearly halting your tracks. Dropping the groceries down, you make quick movement to hide behind your kitchen wall. Thumping your forehead gently on the plaster, dried paint some how still sticky against your skin. You mutter a hushed ‘get it together!’ Before taking a deep breath. Yanking out a pot to boil water for some pasta.

“Jaemin loves pasta.” You nod to yourself. Smiling at the memory of the adorable little boy’s cheeks covered in red sauce.

He takes the chance to walk around the small living room. Dizzying thoughts grounded as he admires the photos you’ve framed. Most with Jaehyun, but the one that catches his attention the most is from your last summer back home. You seemed too excited to finally escape to Seoul and begin ‘adulthood’. He really did try to his best the last few years to move on.

After presenting, omegas were no challenge. That didn’t stop him from thinking of you whenever his rut hit. Buried deep inside whichever omega had begged to spend it with him. Alpha taking over him too much at times, screaming your name. The omega under him couldn’t even complain after getting the dick down of their life. They never could compare to the omega constantly running through his mind. Existence taunting him, ready to fall to his knees and beg for a taste.

“Ah, you found my photo gallery huh?” Your voice breaks his thoughts. Setting down the frame. Softly grazing his younger self in the corner of the photo staring longingly after you.

Jaemin sighs, heading to the couch. He sits with a bounce testing out the cushions. As if it mattered, his brother offered him no more than the floor whenever he’d visit.

“Yea..those were good times… you okay?” Jaemin inquires, noticing the way you limp across the living room. You nestle into the corner of the couch breathing out a long sigh. Back aching and cracking as you get comfortable.

“Tired. Sorry I’m not much entertainment. Work was so busy today.” Your face rolls to the side. Quickly giving him a once over before dropping your gaze to the floor. Still in too much awe to begin comprehending how much he’s grown.

“Your feet hurt?” Jaemin smiles, reaching toward your knees. Thumb smoothing over the bone sticking out. “Don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m kind of known for giving the greatest foot massages.”

“Oh no…you can’t. I haven’t even showered yet.” You murmur. Self conscious and weary, subtly attempting to inhale some of your scent. You should have rushed to the shower, but sitting down for a bit was too tempting.

“Ah don’t be silly. You smell great..” Jaemin’s tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth. Large hands encase your knees, sweeping down behind them. He tugs your legs up effortlessly even with the resistance you apply. He lays your calves across his lap, pinching your stockings between two fingers. “You should take these off.”

“Uh..” you falter, concentrating on his hands skirting up the length of your leg. Fingertips languidly dragging up, shoving between your thighs. He stops, breathing in and out slow. Looking down focused on the way your muscle jumps. The body heat between your thighs like a furnace, strong enough to warm his cool touch.

“Thigh highs..” Jaemin mumbles. Gaze trailing up finding yours. It’s a mere graze of skin on skin, barely touching your inner thigh, but it’s enough. Your core reacting faster than you can think, opening up and making a mess of your underwear. Jaemin’s neck visibly bobs up and down, no doubt hit in the face with the pungent smell of omegan desire. “Can I?”

Even if he’s affected he doesn’t show it. Smooth and calm, he tugs on the lace at the top of your thigh. You nod, you think, bending at the knee further allowing him to strip the material off.

“Once I’m done with you, you’re gonna be begging me to move in..” Jaemin smiles, throwing you a wiggle of his brows. Heated palms squeeze your thigh. He’s strong, so strong. Exuding power and strength in each delicate touch. Rubbing and kneading your tensed muscles. The tips of his fingers dig in, rolling your tendons. Loosening up the tension cramping the backs of your legs.

“Fu..” you start, pursing your lips together. Sinking deeper into the cushion behind you.

“Feels good? You’re so tight.” Jaemin breathes out each word. His biceps seem to grow larger as he shimmies down your leg. His muscles are too big.. big enough to lock around your chest while he fucks you into a groveling pitiful silly mess…

“Am I doing a good job? You’re not saying anything..” Jaemin’s eyes lift. His face leaned down, fueling the maniacal lust driving a force between your chest. You gasp, parting your thighs open. The fresh scent of arousal tickling your nose. No doubt slamming into Jaemin’s.

“Ye-..”

The sound of water splashing, sizzling as it meets fire erupts. Like a rope wrapped around your neck pulling you back to reality. You shoot up in panic, kicking your calves away from his working hands.

“Oh shit! The noodles!” You screech. Bodily twisting away. Hobbling to the kitchen with a hidden face of humiliation. Knees pinched together to contain a gush of slick from streaking down your inner thighs. How were you going to survive the next two days?

————————————————————-

“Jaem?..” you stumble into the living room. Combing back your bed head as you approach the couch. Blankets and pillows left stacked together at the corner. Missing the alpha who you’d left sleeping there the night before. You take a glance around, listening for the shower. No sign of Jaemin. Cautiously, against your better judgment you sit down. A waft of alluring alpha scent springs off the cushions. Circling around your head like a drug, inducing weakness and the need to succumb. To feel every part of him flow through your veins. Fill you so full of cum your nose even spurts it out.

The disgusting thought snaps your eyes open. Gripping at the cushion around your hips, ready to grind down just to have a sliver of the alpha stuck to your skin.

The front door unlocks, sending your neck jerking back too fast. Grimacing as you reach for the muscle, your jaw drops. Jaemin saunters in, shirtless, soaked. Sweat intensely spilling down his chest. Hair matted, clinging to his forehead area, half shoved off giving peaks of sun kissed skin.

He stands there rubbing a towel over the back of his neck. Cheeks pink and puffy, his lips and eyes matching so early in the morning. The thin trail of hair leading below his sweats demands your attention. Grey cotton drenched, appearing darker as your eyes travel lower. The evidence of an excruciating workout, exhausting his body of hydration. His tongue laps out, slowly licking across his upper lip. Swallowing the lack of saliva coating his mouth. He moves inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Oh!” Jaemin spots you, finally. A smile that could go to war with the sun expands over his face.

“Wow..” you swallow. Eyes falling shut mentally cursing yourself.

“You just wake up?” Jaemin jogs over, planting a moist kiss on your forehead. “Sorry, I probably stink..”

“You smell amazing.” You practically shout. The sudden urge to permanently zip your mouth shut fills your brain. Heating up under his intrigued eyes.

“You too..” Jaemin grins. His two front teeth linger, digging into his lower lip. He makes a face, tasting the stale dryness around the inside of his mouth- “I should..rinse my mouth or something..”

Jaemin slides past you. Stuck on his tantalizing aroma, you follow after him. Like a lost pet helplessly seeking an owner. You lean against the door frame, admiring each little dip in his stomach. Taut muscles hardening as he turns on the sink, bending down to splash water on his face. An alpha to the definition.

“There’s mouthwash in the medicine cabinet.” You instruct. Sounding far off and distracted. Itching to scratch down the mountains of brawn moving on his backside. His back wings stuck out beautifully, giving him a near angelic appearance.

“Oh thanks.” Jaemin’s face lights up. Water driblets cascade down his long neck. Adam’s apple bouncing in the center, glistened like a treat just begging to be eaten. Every scenario of possibilities playing in your mind much too fast to process. Missing the sensation of hot slick melting out of your core.

“Do you take these?” Jaemin inquires pulling out a packet of white pills from the cabinet. A frown drags down his lively features. You snatch the pills from him, disguising the hint of shame taking over your face.

“It’s just..heat suppressants are so bad for omegas!” Jaemin panics. Hands flailing out to emphasize how serious this matter is. “They cause weak fertility, depression, loss of appetite! Suppressing your heat goes against our natur-..”

“Jaemin! Enough alright?!” You snap. Exiting the bathroom in frustration. As if you hadn’t heard every warning before.

Jaemin follows after you, mouth gaping open and shut like a fish out of water. Fingertips itching to reach after you.

“I know okay?!” You turn abruptly. Face colliding with the center of his dampened chest. Nearly hurdled back if not for his quick reflexes swooping a hold around you. Jaemin keeps you steady, the powerful aura surrounding him enough to do the job.

“Why do you take them then?..” Jaemin’s brows furrow together. Wide doll like eyes full of concern bounce over your face. Warm comforting palms skim down your arms ending at your elbows. His thumbs stroking over the inner crook, soothing and harmless. As if he can read the annoyance running up your gut.

“I need to…I don’t always..” you start, chin dipping down. Staring at anything else besides the handsome alpha. It’d been weeks since you last kept on schedule with taking them really.

“You have no one to spend it with?” Jaemin questions. Mouth twitched to the side in confusion. An omega like you? Alone during heat? That’s..damn near blasphemous.

“It’s not a big deal.” You explain. Easing your arms from his hold. Your omega satisfied in such close proximity to a delicious smelling alpha. It’s upsetting really, how fast your instincts were ready to drop any morals. Shouting at you to fall to your knees and present yourself. Screaming that our alpha needs us, wants us.

“Of course it is.” Jaemin scoffs. Cooly maneuvering his palms to cup your hips. Thumbs continuing to rub gentle circles over your hip bones. “I can’t believe you don’t just ask Jaehyun for help.”

“Ew! Sick. I would never.” You chide. Hating the way your feet stick to the ground like you’ve walked into quicksand. Stuck, willingly, under Jaemin’s hands.

“…oh..” Jaemin blinks rapidly. Putting two and two together quickly. Fingers bury deep into your hips, stepping toe to toe with you. “You could always, call me up. I..I would love. I mean, I would love to help..”

“What?!” You squak, moving back another foot. His hands collapse at his sides, fearing he’s misread the vibe. Jaemin’s brows lift, head shaking.

“What?”

“What!”

“Uh..” He looks around. Folding his bulging arms over his chest. Shrugging, averting his attention to the digital clock ticking. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna be late. Uhm, see you later? Dinner..or yea.”

“Yea yea…uh, good luck or..have fun!” You wince, ducking your flushed face. Waving him off as he runs off to the bathroom.

—————————————————————

Jaemin stumbles in, loud, slamming into the wall. The door shutting impactfully as he falls into it, bursting into a round of giggles. You watch over him drowsily, jumping awake from your sleep. Having drifted off at some point in the last hour, tired of waiting for him to show up. Dinner long gone cold waiting by now.

“Jaemin?” You get up from the couch. His eyes shooting open finding you in nothing but your bathrobe. Too lazy and hot after your shower to encourage yourself to put on anything else. He moves down the hall finding you. Tugging you close with arms belting your waist.

“Did you wait for me?” He sounds hopeful asking. Your head jerks back, hit with a wave of alcohol coated breath.

“You’re drunk.” You groan. Fingers encase his arms. Your eyes fluttering, exhausted. Exhausted from just being around the alpha. Even smelling straight out of a vodka bottle his enticing scent hooks you. Hazing your mind, taking every bit of willpower you have left to not attack him.

“Drunk on you..” Jaemin wiggles his brows. Bending his knees slightly to tap his forehead on yours. “You smell so good for me.”

“Jaemin..” you rub over the backs of his arms. Firm triceps mocking you, having to squeeze and feel them up. Reasoning with yourself how you’d later regret it if not.

“Shh shh..” he presses on. The tip of his nose meeting yours. Lips close enough to brush along your cupid’s bow as he goes on- “Alpha. Call me alpha. Please.”

“Jae-…” his lips trace yours. Testing out the waters with a quick lick down the middle of your upper lip. Finding no resistance his mouth plants down. Moans escape between your moving lips. Clinging on his arms like a vine as he props you on the hallway wall. The taste of alcohol hits the back of your throat returning you to reality. Your eyes fly open, reaching for his shoulders with a sad excuse of a shove.

“No, we..” Jaemin’s thumb caresses your lower lip, interrupting you. Drunken gaze flickering across your lust filled expression. His other hand finding your wrist, lifting your slacked arm up. Pinned above your head, allowing him to press against you without a struggle.

“No what?” Jaemin whispers. Hot puffs of breath dancing fire over your cheeks. Thumb lazily dipping down on your tongue. Concentrating on the way you lick around the tip. Mind going straight to images of you laid out sucking down his length. Taking the entirety of his knot down your throat. Pleading like a good omega for endless amounts of cum.

Your eyes fall shut, brows squeezing together to force a coherent thought. Waves of heat muddling any rationalization to get you out of this situation.

‘He’s your best friend’s little brother.’

‘He can’t control himself. Your pheromones are too strong, this isn’t what he really wants.’

‘He’s a young, attractive, single alpha. He’ll ruin you.’

It’s as if Jaemin can hear everything you’re thinking. Rolling his hips forward, thick chubbed up cock digging into your hip. You can’t stop the gurgling moan from rising. Your lower half trembles desperately, aching all the more as he exposes his neck. Long throat arched back, proudly showing you his scent gland. The strongest whiff of aroused alpha tickling your senses.

“Stop fighting it, omega.” Jaemin leans in. Half lidded heavy eyes stare into yours. Wet thumb swiping down your chin to the middle of your neck pushing down. Gasping for air faster as he grinds against you.

“We shouldn’t.” You pant out breathlessly. The air around you hard to swallow. Full of arousal, powerful alpha scent triggering puddles of slick to drip down your inner thighs. Jaemin smirks, sliding his thumb lower. Your robe parting open down the center of your chest. Rising and falling rapidly with each taunting graze of skin. Skidding over the loosely tied knot on your waist, finally coming to a stop where your thighs spread open.

“What is this then?” Jaemin licks his teeth. Biting down on the tip of his tongue. Cleaning off a glossy layer of slick with the same thumb that’d just been in your mouth. The lower half of his weight keeping you held back unable to move.

“Jaemin..please..” your eyes itch, blinking the rapid moisture filling up your sockets. His hand lifts, turning his thumb side to side slowly. Even blurry and humiliating you further, you can’t stop the wetness oozing out of your core.

“Never imagined you to be such a beggar..” Jaemin’s brow quirks. He nods down, returning his thumb to your parted lips. “Always thought you’d make me beg.”

You whimper, weakly trying to blink away the tears flowing out of the corners of your eyes. Tongue lifting lapping off your wetness from his digit. Jaemin sinks in, forehead shoving into yours.

“Taste that? That’s how much you want me.” Jaemin teases. Thumb thrusting in, pushing down on your tongue until you gag. “You’ll be my good omega yeah? Let alpha do whatever he wants with you?”

Your knees buckle at his words. Widening gaze staring up, sucking his thumb off with skill. A dreadful need to satisfy and impress him beginning to consume you whole. You give a pitiful yet eager nod, dragging your lips back.

“No no no.” Jaemin tuts, prodding his way back in. “Get on your knees, and don’t stop sucking until alpha tells you to.”

You drop down on command, knees meeting the floor like you’re meant to be there. His broadened frame only seeming even larger at this new angle. Heady scent of alpha cum so strong, filling up his balls the second your eyes draw up to him.

The pretty wanton face below filling his chest up with a sense of power. A need to fuck, claim, destroy. Leave you obliterated, shattered in pieces only he can put back together. It’s intoxicating, addicting, everything he’s ever dreamed of.

“Keep sucking.” Jaemin urges you. Thumb pushing down on the backs of your teeth. His stumbles backward, pulling you into a crawl. Lips wrapped around him sucking like a baby. Knees burning against the hallway carpet as you try to keep up. The eye contact never lost, breathing out harshly through your nose. The salty taste of outside air stuck on his skin mixes in with your saliva, sucking faster and harder.

“Fuck..” Jaemin’s shoulder meets your door frame. His knees give in, coming down near face level. Thumb popping free gleaming in your spit. It all smears around your chin, spilling free out of the corners of your mouth. Heat taking over painting the most beautiful obscene image he’s ever seen. “Need to taste you.”

Jaemin cups your face, hauling you upward. Lips connecting to yours, hot mouths intertwining. Licking around without missing an inch. A hunger to try every little piece of you. He’s so overpowering shoving you back with his weight. Your legs limply cupped over the crook of his elbow. He pushes down, slithering lower leaving burning pecs of his lips everywhere. Your flesh throbs, lifting up like an actual marks left after each.

It’s almost disgusting the way his nose dips between your folds. More drunk off your pure heat induced wetness than any alcohol could get him. A string of curses squeeze from between his teeth. Biting back the feral need to ravage you. Wanting to take his time to open you up, let you feel every lick and suck. Tenderly dragging up and down your core, he’s a mess of slick. Skin cooling, soiled in your potent aroused want for him.

“You’re perfect, perfect perfect omega.” Jaemin cries out. His eyes wrinkle shut, forehead creasing down the center from how hard he’s trying to control the incessant rage to fuck you hard enough to break a hole into the ground.

“Jaemin…ah, please.” You whine. Rolling your hips up, hitting his chin with a lewd slap of slick. The noisy wetness turning you both on all the more.

“Alpha.” Jaemin hits the side of your thigh roughly. His eyes rolling up leaving nothing but white behind. Possessed as he slurps on your clit. His tongue rolling your bundles of nerves just right. Jaw hinged open fully engulfing the entirety of your cunt. His tongue teases at your entrance, circling around. Testing the contracting give with experimental dips. The tip of his tongue torturing your hole, making you squeeze up in chase after him.

His tongue travels everywhere, reaching each stop successfully. Earning a shocked rasp from you when he dips in your rim. Lapping over the wrinkled muscle like it’s his last meal.

“Alpha. Alpha.” You mutter. Walls spin around you, twisting your mind upside down. He pulls off, face dripping like this morning. Slick instead of sweat adorning his flawless skin.

“I know baby.” Jaemin nods reassuringly. Tugging you closer, your robe falls off. Cradled into his chest, he staggers for a moment to stand. Turning fast to enter your bedroom.

He lays you out on the bed, left with your legs dangling off. His hips pushing past your knees parting you open. Your gaze darts over his figure, thumbs hooked around the hem of the muscle tee he wears.

It’s like some cheesy scene out of an 80s movie. Jaemin playing the role of the heart throb that everyone writes about in their diaries at night. Crying about fantasies they only wish on shooting stars to come true. His bodies flawless, built to perfection. Stomach twitching in with each deep breath. Scattered beauty marks that look good enough to trace together taunt you. Bending forward at your waist to scratch down the sides of his abdomen. He’s hard under soft smooth baby-like skin. It’s maddening to finally feel him, pinching together the flesh covering his hips. Shoving at the jeans keeping you from what you really want.

The smell of his fat cock hits you first. Button near ripped off as you ferociously tug off his jeans. Rapid movements free him. Thick hard cock completely shown off. Too heavy to stand on it’s own, dangling half way up to his stomach. You lick around the tip, savoring the pre-cum already leaking from his slit. Jaemin stops you, running fingers through your scalp.

“Later. Let me see you.” He commands. Softly pushing you down on your back. Legs parted open around his hips. Cunt pulsing, winking seductively. As if you weren’t intent on fucking him until you both pass out. The tip of his cock prods your entrance, groaning as he runs his hands through his hair. The frustration only prolonged when you sit up.

“Please, alpha. Let me just…” you plea, wrapping around his shoulders. Lifting your ass off the bed, you grind up and down. Wet puffed folds squeeze his cock. Your moans breaking echoing out around the room. Wet lewd sounds growing louder and louder as you continue. Using the power of his weight to lift yourself up and down.

Slick puddles under your ass, making a nasty mess. Ass landing down on the pool of wetness with each roll of your hips. Jaemin’s big hands clutch your waist. Gritting his teeth, lining up to your hole.

“Oh fuck!” He howls. Neck tossed back lighting up prettily with veins pumping full of blood in a rush. Chest rising and falling, his stomach sinks in below. Cock thrumming maddeningly inside.

“Alpha!” You fall back limp. Jaemin scoops around you, hips falling into a rapid motion. Fucking you in earnest. Giving you every inch of length. Balls slap your cunt shooting out gushes of your slick with each pounding thrust.

“Baby, fuck f-fuck..” Jaemin moans out. Mouth hung open above yours. Passing exerted breaths into each other's throats. Sucking down little bits of each other above and below.

“Alpha….ahhh” you fall into tears. Overwhelmed, too many pleasure filled sensations erupting at once. Weakly, you croon- “c-cumming.”

Your pussy clutches around him. Jaemin having to throw his entire body into each thrust. Screaming past gritting teeth through your first orgasm. Only spurring him to fuck you until you’re his.

Pulling out with another row of slaps to your thigh, he effortlessly throws you down. Lifting you only to display the power he has over you. Throwing you down on your stomach like you weigh nothing. Showing no sign of struggle, he mounts the backs of your thighs. Shooting stings up your back with a fierce slap on your ass.

His cock slips back in, grunting, biting out mumbled words about how tight you are. His chest lays on your back. Pushing the last bits of air from your lungs leaving you wide eyed and gasping.

His hands splay around your head. Face turning to watch the flex in his forearms. The strain in his biceps. Plummeting his hips inside you devilishly. Left to be nothing but a stupid fuck hole. You groan, hanging your tongue out licking up and down his right arm. His eyes grow large gazing ahead. Drawn away from the smack of your ass on his hips. Lowering to press you down completely, his arm sinks around your neck.

“Is that what you want?” Jaemin tightens the chokehold. Fucking you harder, left with no choice but to suck in struggled breaths. Coughing behind the rippling bicep hitting your chin as he squeezes your neck tighter. Your ass bruising under every impactful hit of his hips. Cock pistoning inside at a delirious angle, hitting just right where you need. You croak, crying, kicking your feet. Fucked by the force of a feral alpha leaving you with no choice but to submit. “Bite me! Do it!”

Your teeth drill down, chewing up the meaty muscle in front of you. Growling like a wild omega lost in your heat. The skin under your mouth blooms in pinks, reds, quickly turning shades deeper. Only egging you to maul him more, lapping, sucking. Chomping on his bicep as if you may actually eat him alive.

You scream in pleasure. Feeling more fucked out and animalistic than any heat before. Jaemin’s growls booming out behind you. The bed shaking hard enough to bang against the wall. You tap repeatedly against his forearm. Cunt fluttering around his hammering length.

“Alpha! Knot me! Knot me knot me knot me!!” You chant, crazed and cock drunk. Screaming for cum to rip your insides apart. Craving Jaemin’s hot climax more than anything. Suffocating in his unrelenting chokehold.

The knot expands, stretching you apart so far your ass parts open. Squished thighs spreading as the alpha’s load spills. Satiating you beyond relief, for a moment. Your hands weakly drag down to the bed. Leaving behind raw marks of nails and bites all over his built meaty arms. Something to look forward to later when he walks around shirtless. A true alpha, proud to be marked up by an omega.

“You like that?” Jaemin gasps. Sucking the sweat draping your nape. Warm words muddling your thoughts deeper into a lost abyss. “Like how I fuck you full? Hmm.”

His hips jolt, arms loosening around your neck. He reaches down, pulling your bodies onto your sides. Knot stuck inside, endlessly shooting cum filling your womb.

His knot takes what feels like hours to go down. Pussy lips hugging around him as he softens. Jaemin staying as still as possible. Releasing pained hisses as your cunt sucks around him pleading for more.

He cuddles up to your back, smoothing a large palm down past the dip of your waist. Ending at your hip, tracing soft circular motions. A deep humm sounds from his chest, vibrating down your spine. You squirm, smushing your bottom down on his hips. Persisting he fuck you again, and again.

“Shh shhh, stay like this for a little baby. You’re so tight, have to get you used to what a real alpha feels like.” Jaemin coo’s. Kissing up your shoulder to your ear ending in a heated whisper. Tongue dipping inside, licking between each crevice. Soft cock beating like a heart inside of your wet core. He thrusts up only once, size twitching as he expands. Hips circling, stirring your guts with the tip of his cock nestled in your cervix.

“Mmm alpha…big..” you mewl too strung out to form anything more coherent. Rubbing your cheek on your bedding lingering with Jaemin’s scent.

“I’ll have you formed to my cock. Leave you fucked so full of cum. Take care of you through every heat baby. Leave you hung off my knot until it’s all you know.” Jaemin goes on, drawling garbled nonsense.

“..every heat?” You ask. Tightening around his hardening member. Fattening up as he grows, stretching your walls apart. Each vein on his thrumming length pulsing inside of you faster as excitement builds.

“Every single one.” Jaemin nibbles down the expanse of your neck. Teeth sinking in your shoulder, pulling out to the tip. He thrusts in fully one go leaving you choking for air. “You’re my omega now.”

next—> Dreaming

a/n:

@seuomo @unknown5tar @sunoosi @ahsshilee-me @nabi-nono @nc-teen @if-i-like-i-reblog @johnjaespeach @nohyuckieduckie @gomjohnny @xxhoseoksie

#jaemin smut #na jaemin smut #jaemin fanfic #na jaemin fanfic #nct jaemin #nct dream smut #nct smut #kpop smut #onek #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #neopuppy fics #kpop fanfic #jaemin x you #jaemin imagines #jaemin scenarios #jaemin drabbles

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butcheranons · 3 years

Text

Middle Child PT2

PT1 | PT2 | PT3

summary: As Phil’s prodigy child you had a peculiar relationship with the lone warrior, Technoblade. A snowstorm may bring you both closer than you’d expect…

word count: 5.9k

warnings: uh... corruption kink, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, oral (receiving), fingering, breeding kink and overall sinful

anatomy: afab, no female pronouns

"Techno...!" You yelp, dragging him along.

Barely able to stand up, his skin bright red, and his clothing froze solid in his body. He closes his eyes, head coming down to lay on your shoulder while you struggle to hold his body weight. You close the door, kicking the rags you had used to plug up any creaks.

"Techno? You with me? What happened?"

Of course, you get no response. You just observe how pale he looks. There are bits of ice clinging to his eyelashes and brows. "Let's get you by the fire."

You tug his arm, pulling him towards the crackling fireplace. When you get him to sit on the soft rug, he lets out a relieved sigh, warmth filling his body. Not enjoying his presence, your dogs ruff as they pad their way out of the living room and away from the human popsicle.

The tea you made earlier is luckily still warm, so you offer him your mug, refilling it quickly.

He chugs it like it's booze, handing you the cup for another fill.

With a sigh, you just hand him the teakettle, standing up once again and practically running upstairs toward your father's room. You ruffle through his closet; What little is left behind is either too fancy for daily labour or too impractical. But you just pull a couple of the largest shirts you could find, a thick blanket and rush downstairs.

"Sorry... I couldn't find anything bigger, please bear with me for a while..." You set them down next to him, hands automatically reaching toward the buckle that holds his cape. Your hands struggle to undo the ties around his armour; You don't even realise what you're doing until you get to his shirt. His hands, fingers so cold they felt like icicles, grasp your wrists, eyes froze on yours. And you jump.

You jump backwards, trembling, cheeks bright red, "Oh my goodness, Oh my, I– I'm so sorry!"

His surprise is taken over by a nervous chuckle.

"It's fine..."

His voice is hoarse, a bare whisper that floats through the air, almost dampened by the crackles of the fire.

"I'm just..."

"...Used to it?"

"Yeah... The boys are so used to the L'Manburg weather these days, they're always wearing such thin clothes..." You scratch your neck, looking away. "I... I'll give you privacy. You must get out of those clothes right now."

He nods.

You go into the kitchen, cursing yourself for being so noisy. Technoblade had always been reserved; He must hate you now. I mean, when was the last time you had seen him without his chest plate? It's not like he had anything to be ashamed of, au contraire, pale skin mapped out by purple scarred streaks; muscles defined and shaped by the gods, protected by a thick layer of fat that only seemed to emphasize his athletics. The ice, now melted, dripping over his chest gave him a sheen like a puff pastry, so good looking you might just take a bite–.

Shaking your thoughts away, you got to work. As much as you wished to bury yourself six feet under and never rise ever again, he was going to freeze to death.

So, you heat the water in bottles and use the back of a pan to warm up towels.

When you've got everything, you stand at the door, fidgeting with your fingers, wondering when's the best time to come around. I mean, what if you walk in and Techno isn't clothed? Restlessly tapping your feet, you open your mouth to speak, but before you can answer, you're interrupted:

"You can come in..."

With a small jump, you walk in small steps, eyes finding anywhere to look but him. Finding a seat next to him, you wrap up the bottle that just radiates warmth and hand him. He's still shaking a little, though he seems to have calmed down now.

Techno is surrounded by bottles and towels by the time you're done, wrapped up in a blanket you think that is more than enough to warm him up and get him back on his feet. But your mind still wonders how did he get in such a state; Your father always talked about the strong one, never gets a scratch. And if he was like that, then how was your father? God knows you can't fly in this weather.

"Your father is fine. He's far away from the Tundras."

Your shoulders drop in relief, eyes closing in bliss just before shooting open. Wait, how did he know what you were thinking?!

"How did–"

"It's written all over you..."

When he speaks, for once, his eyes linger. Lazily tracing your features with a glaze you can’t quite figure out. But you blame it on exhaustion.

You shrug, playing with the hem of a towel. Under his watch, your cheeks burn brighter than the fireplace u

"What happened?"

"Carl got scared by some spiders and ran away. When I was looking for him, we got caught in the storm. I left him in the shed, by the way, the barn was locked..."

"Oh, poor thing..."

"I'm used to it. It's not a little rain that can take me down."

"...I...I meant Carl... The animals get so scared when storms are coming... The spiders must've been torture..."

You're too busy feeling pity for the horse currently locked in the large toolshed outside to notice the blush that fills Techno, not a redness from cold this time.

"...I got this, by the way," he hands you this little folded piece of paper, and you can recognise the green satin bow that holds it tight.

"Daddy...?" You mutter, pulling it apart, "how did you...?"

"Your crow found me on the way. Poor thing must've been caught by the rain, too... She's safe with Carl."

"Thank you..."

Your father writes to you about your warning of the storm, announces he is well, far away enough, orders you to protect yourself and not go out the snow has melted off. He wishes you a happy birthday; Once again.

Clutching the message to your chest, you sigh, to Techno's demise.

He is estranged by your actions, shifting uncomfortably, wondering if you'll cry.

But you smile, folding the paper once more and tying a pretty bow around it. When you face him, this loneliness flashes behind your eyes. For a second, he wishes to understand you, to study every subject that involves you.

"...Happy birthday, by the way..." His whisper fades into the ambience, drifting to blush on your cheeks. "...Sorry, you must be expecting people... You're all dressed up–" Catching himself before he rambles on any further, he covers his speech with a cough.

"Oh, not at all!– I mean..." You realise how sad you sound, trying to reformulate, "I was... But with the storm..."

Techno clears his throat, not daring to meet your eyes right now, "I figured...You look good..."

This warmth bubbles in you. Butterflies be damned you had a whole zoo in your stomach right now. Your eyes hesitate, but your heart is set on it. "Do I?"

"...Yes." He turns his head, just not enough to face you yet. "...It suits you."

"The dress?" You fidget with the fabric bundled around your folded knees.

"White... The colour white. It suits you."

You smile. "Thank you, Techno."

He smiles back and you can feel your heart stop.

Because there's this softness in his red irises, this glow of curiosity; yearning, that you can't handle the meaning of right now.

There’s an anxious silence that sits above you, the type that falls heavy in your stomach to push you to say something - anything.

“I should run you a hot bath,” You break the silence, “How are you feeling?”

Techno hesitates, eyeing your face, maybe for extra clues, “...I’m fine, thank you... really...”

You don’t believe him, eyeing his jaw and how it trembles when he speaks, the discontent in your face is quite evident, “You’re shaking! You’re not “fine”.”

Techno looks away, choosing not to answer your jab, or rather, unable to.

“Do you still feel cold?” you ask and all he does is nod shyly. “You’re bright red...” there’s a nervousness in your words, worried for his health.

Without giving a second thought, you raise your hand, reaching for his forehead while touching your own, “Have you got a fever?!” You widen your eyes at the feeling of his skin, it’s burning up hotter than you’d ever felt. Standing up in a jump, you pat his shoulder, “Techno, you’re burning up! We must get you in a bath right now!”

His eyes meet yours, analyzing every bit of your face, overwhelmed by this worry and care he hadn’t felt in years.

“I’m fine...”

“You’re not-“

He interrupts your worried babbling, hand reaching to grasp yours, “I run a bit hotter than your kind... That’s why I don’t deal so well with the cold...”

You kneel to his side, processing his words, “Oh... I’m sorry... I thought-”

“Don’t worry about it... Your father did the same when we met.” He offers you a smile so bright you immediately know why his body temperature is so high.

“...What can I do to heat you up?”

He falters, honestly pondering for a second. “Unless you’ve got a big heater, this is enough...thank you.”

It’s like something snaps in your mind as you widen your eyes, “me! I’m a big heater!”

Techno eyes you for a second before breaking into laughter. The corners of his eyes crinkle under the pressure of his rosy cheeks. And you’d never thought such sharp teeth would look so friendly; that a loud, unfiltered laugh of pure joy would sound so harmonious.

When he ceases he has a ghost of a smile on his lips, letting it fall once he notices how serious you look, “No, you can’t be serious...”

“I am! Come on! I’m hot blooded, there’s nothing else as warm!”

“No... No. There’s no need to”

“Then let me try, just once...If it doesn’t work, then fine.”

He furrows his brows, “It’s not a life or death situation, this is enough, I’ll warm up in no time...”

“Come on, Techno... Please...” You hold his frigid hand, enveloping it in warmth and he hesitates:

“...No.”

“Please?” You bring his hand to your cheek, letting the own hotness of your reddened cheek take over his cold digits. You almost wish it could stay like this.

“...Fine.”

You smile in victory, padding through the rug. When you stand in front of him, he doesn’t budge, staring right back at you.

“Open up, it doesn’t work if it’s over the blanket.”

He huffs in annoyance, raising his left arm and giving you an entrance and that’s when you realise why he must’ve been cold, of course, your father’s shirts wouldn’t fit! Poor thing was left with an open, flimsy sheer blouse.

You kneel between his legs, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling his chest against yours. When you touch, he hisses and you flinch away.

“What’s wrong?!” You ask though he finds it hard to answer you. You push again, wanting to know the reason.

Your eyes are so wide and glossy, worry pours out of them, and Techno can't help but feel ashamed to break your heart, "Clothes are cold, I said I'm fine, I don't–"

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry..." Chewing on your thumb, you ignore his pleas and think to yourself how you could make this work.

And with blush so strong you could rival his hair, you realise what this meant.

"Close your eyes," he's quick to catch on, a similar colour taking over his cheeks.

"No–"

"Just do it!" You're not sure how long your courage will last, even if you're determined to warm him up no matter what it takes.

Techno closes his eyes, his hybrid immediately picking up on his other senses.

He can hear the soft shuffling, your fingers loosening button by button. You swallow dryly, padding along with the rug, getting closer to him. You pull the sleeves along your arms, shuddering at the cold that hits your body as soon as they're off.

And his body stops.

It's as if every single inch of his skin is 100 times more sensitive.

Not spending much time feeling the cold, you wrap your arms around his neck once again.

Your chest clashes against his, and you can hear the soft groans that escape his throat. Feeling his breathing come to a halt, you move,

"You–"

"Don't open your eyes!"

Your face is buried in his neck, cheeks burning so hot you're sure you'd be able to heat him.

Techno swallows, hands far away from you. His body, more frozen than when he was on literal ice. You're warm, so, so warm. Your chest is pressed so tight against his, nothing in between and gods, do you fit so perfectly against him, and he wonders, he wonders if you will feel this perfect in his hands.

He's so warm against you. Gods forbid you dreamt about this day, but you did. Because ever since you met Technoblade, there has been nothing else in your fucking head. Nothing but those broad shoulders of his and the way he smiled at you and offered to carry you on his back when you'd sprained your ankle.

You inhale, he smells like fresh snow, like gunpowder. Like the baked potatoes he'd always have in a campfire whenever you visited your father. He smells like home. Because no matter what, Techno had always been Techno.

Even if Wil left home, Techno would laugh at your attempts to hold a sword, giving you pointers.

Even if your little brother found himself new friends, Techno would come back with a puppy or a kitten, claiming he'd found them in his journey and couldn't care for it.

Even if your father missed birthday after birthday, Techno wrote you letters in the name of Phil. Little did he know, you could always distinguish between their handwriting.

And you tighten your grip around him because once again, you'd find yourself alone on your birthday and there was only Techno.

The one you'd write letters for that would never see the daylight. The one you'd carve initials in the snow, only to step on before anyone saw it.

It's like he can sense it, he always can. He finally relaxes against your hug and his hands wander around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"It's okay– It's okay if you want to cry..."

"No..." It's muffled against his skin, "...I'm sorry, I always do this..."

When he laughs, you can feel the vibration that erupts from his chest. And you can help but laugh, too.

"Thanks, Techno..."

He nods, nose brushing against the top of your head. You smell like vanilla and hot cocoa, sunshine and haybales. And he can't get enough of it.

Closer.

Closer. Closer. Closer.

The unison cacophony takes over for a minute, and he presses you against his body, tighter and tighter. And you raise your head for once, trying to find out what he's thinking.

And when your eyes meet, you feel like your breath is taken from you.

For he is close; too close. His lips, parted, blows hot on your cheeks and you glance at them, wondering how soft they would feel, how warm and comforting.

Techno notices your eyes and when he does, it's like his heart jumps out of his chest. It could only be a misunderstanding, right? You would never look at him in such a way, not in the way he did. You were simply too pure for your good.

But then you press your lips to his, just like that night on your 20th birthday when you stood on your tiptoes, stealing a chaste kiss from him before running away.

This time, he doesn't hesitate. Hands on your cheeks pull you into him, lips hungrily take on yours. And you taste sweet, like whipped cream and cherries, warmth seeps through your skin, a sensation he's never felt before.

Silence.

In his mind, for once, there is silence.

And he smiles into your lips, peace.

When you pull away to breathe, your eyes glaze over at him. Half-lidded, you pant. Lips red and swollen, strings of saliva drip down. And there's this urge that burbles in his stomach, knowing he's the one that left you like this with just a kiss. The perfect little you, half-naked, begging him for another kiss with just your eyes.

Ruin them.

"I– I–," he can't catch a simple second to recount his words, the sounds in his mind loud like they would be on the battlefield. "I'm sorry–"

Techno is pulling away, crawling backwards, away from you. Away before he does something he regrets.

"Shut up."

You smile, tackling him down into a kiss, your teeth buckle against him and you laugh at your clumsiness. But your hands are curious, taking his cheeks, running through his hair in fistfuls, realising it's so much softer than it looks.

And by the Gods, he wishes to stay like this forever.

His tongue runs over your bottom lip and you obediently part them. Devouring you like the most palatable sweet, he leans into your lips and you let out the softest mewls, surprised there was such a noise in yourself. Suddenly, the loose pants you'd given him don't fit so right.

You melt into him, his hands mould against your body, just right. Running his fingers through your shoulders, down your back and waist, to find themselves at your hips. Techno palms your skin like he can't get enough of it like you'd be disappearing at any second. Still, he's delicate, careful like you'd never seen.

Your moans fall shy and he devours each and every single one of them, growing greedier with each passing second.

But you're both getting impatient and when you coyly roll your hips against his, you can feel the way his jaw tightens. His hands fist into your dress, fingers almost ripping up the thing fabric in sheer strength.

"Not here..." Techno pants. "Hold steady," He whispers in your ear, holding onto your thighs before standing up.

And you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck with a giggle, lips attached to his neck and jaw.

He holds you with ease and your heart accelerates at the thought of having him manhandle your body with such facility.

When you reach your bedroom, he takes a deep breath, overwhelmed by the scent of you. Techno allows your perfume to fill his lungs with warmth.

You're dropped onto the soft mattress, eyes eager and staring up at him. Not losing any precious time, he just slips his hands into the rest of your dress, pulling it off and letting it be forgotten on the floor.

Your attempts at covering your modesty are in vain, for he takes your wrists, holding them above your head with a devilish smirk. You knew you were not escaping those hungry eyes of his.

Techno leans back, admiring the sight of you.

It's as if his stomach does summersaults at your bare body, your curves and your supple skin. He's never seen anyone or anything as beautiful, as perfect; And you're there, staring at him with big eyes, licking your glistening lips in excitement, chest rising and falling with your unsteady breaths.

Gods, your chest, so fucking perfect, fitting into his palms just right. Just like every other bit of you.

Take them.

Take everything.

And you smile, toothy-grin and all. Cheeks pink in timidity and eyes curling into crescent moons.

And Techno smiles back, pressing a kiss on each of your cheeks; then your nose; then your forehead and finally: your lips.

You giggle, goddammit. You giggle into his lips and he can't fucking help it. He wants everything that you give him.

His lips flutter against your skin, butterflies kisses leave a wet trail from your jaw to your neck to your collarbones and chest, and you sigh.

Hands that seem to know what they should do fly into his hair, getting caught in tangles and thin braids. He groans into your touch, almost getting lost in your hands, but the task at hand, he could never pass up the delicious meal you were.

Tongue twists around your nipple, bud writhing rigid under his touch; you'd blame it on the cold but he knew better. The knee that rubs The pheromones you're secreting, unknowingly, plague his mind with the most sinful of thoughts. With that smirk of his, he was more than sure he was the reason for your arousal.

He's not satisfied until your chest is a masterpiece of saliva and purple and red bruises dancing across your perfect little chest. Your body arches into his mouth, and he resists, godamn, does he resist the urge to carve his canines into your neck until your dripping your luscious blood.

Before you know it, he's between your legs and there's a spot in your underwear, dripping in your slick and he lets out a roaring groan at the sight.

You yelp, covering your mouth and letting out a surprised giggle. But he's got his mind somewhere else, he rips through your panties like paper, face to face with your heat and takes a deep inhale. His fingers, long and calloused drag along your entrance and you feel a shiver run along your spine.

Your slick collects around his fingers and he brings it to his lips, letting a moan at the taste of you that fills his tastebuds. Every single sound that leaves his throat travels through your body, leaving goosebumps in its path. You want to hear more of him.

He coats his own fingers in saliva before lowering them once again, you feel the coldness in them now, which makes you jump ever so slightly. His thumb pokes at your bud and you moan louder than either of you expected.

His face rises to meet yours with a surprised but content smirk.

His pace is, at first, slow and intimate. His other hand caresses your thighs, kneading at the flesh in your hips and stomach. Eyes never leaving yours, he enters you with one finger.

You moan at the feeling, surprised but not opposed to it.

Techno studies your expression, looking for any clear display of discomfort. But when he finds nothing but lust, he doesn't fight the smile that creeps up his lips. He starts moving, slow and steady, prodding at your canal and letting you get used to the feeling.

When it settles, you buck your hips into his hands and he chuckles. Your cheeks heat up even more.

He adds a second digit, letting you get used to it once again before scissoring your entrance. You'd need a lot more stretching to even dream of fitting around him. But he didn't blame you, the thought alone of your tight little pussy made him lightheaded with desire.

And then, he adds a third and your moaning like mad.

When he can fit a fourth in, his mind is going crazy with the idea that you were perfect. Gods, you took him so well, so willing for just his fingers.

His free hand flies to your sensitive bud and your eyes sew shut as your back arches into him. He takes the chance to kiss your throat and chest, leaving more marks of him.

When the knot comes undone, you scream his name, letting your body fall slack in his hands. Electricity flows through every inch of your skin, and by the gods, does it feel good. You're sure if you had any neighbours, they would've learned his name by now.

Your eyes are half-lidded, mind clouded with bliss. But there's only one emotion in your face; desire. You crave him, you want more, more, so much more. He's given you a sight of heaven and now you want the goddamn key.

No one else has ever made you feel like this and he will make sure he'll be the only one.

Ruin them. Ruin them. Ruin them. Ruin them. Ruin them.

"Oh my goodness..." Voice a hoarse whisper, you reach for him wanting nothing but to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss the fuck out of his gorgeous lips. "I've never felt this good before..."

And you eye him with such innocence, who could blame him for wanting to ruin poor little red riding hood when they were served with a pretty little bow to the big bad wolf?

So he devours your lips, letting you taste your own sins on his tongue. And you moan, falling deeper and deeper into the belly of the wolf.

"Ready for round two, angel?"

You gulp in fear but your excitement is so much more prominent than any hesitancy.

"Wait..." Techno leans over the bed, grabbing one of the pieces he'd discarded before. "Keep it safe for me, okay?"

And he places his crown atop of your head and you almost tilt under the weight of it. But he fixes it perfectly against your hair, taking it all in.

Because even when he was two steps away from freezing to death when you opened that door, he could only think of how absolutely ravishing you looked. You looked like royalty, like a monarch and he could only treat you like one.

Techno kisses your forehead and leans back between your legs; He kisses from your chest to your stomach to your heat.

"Wait– You don't have to–!" You try, in your bashfulness, to close your knees, but he grips your thighs, yanking your calves over his shoulders. He flashes you a grin.

"Like I would lose the chance to devour you." he runs his tongue over your overstimulated core.

The sounds that escape your lips are short of lustful, sweet demure moans that fill his minds with nothing but pride and greed. Eating you out like a starved man, Techno feels his own arousal grow stronger and stronger, the voices in his head scream profanities, claiming nothing but you.

One of your hands is tangled in his hair, shoving his face into your core while the other holds the crown still. And he smiles against you, perfectly willing to be pushed further into you. Insanity creeps up on your mind, a familiar knot forming once again in your stomach just as your legs start to tremble under his hold.

So vulnerable, so pliable and willing under him. Just for him. Only him.

That thought alone, being the spark of your descent into pleasure brought a heat that spread throughout his body. Silent rolls of his hips into the mattress too limited and almost torture.

And then, you come again, faster and louder than before.

Techno slurps up every drop of you with a hungry smile, you drip over his lips. Your legs are still trembling when he leans over your body to face you.

"Please..." You whisper.

"What do you need, my little angel?" He brushes hair from your face with such delicacy, with an adoring look in his eyes.

"...You. I need you."

And his brain short-circuits.

He gulps.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, goddamnit!" You whine into his lips, hands clawing at his neck. Gods, you clenching around nothing, aching for something, anything bigger, better than measly fingers. And leave it to Techno to have the best of all.

"Naughty little angel, you know cursing is bad..." He beams, "tell me what you need..."

"I don't care... I need you to fuck me."

What can he say? Your wish is his command. He fumbles with clothes, ripping through them with a mental apology that he would get your father new clothes later. His member is pulsating as if it's about to explode.

You lick your lips at the sight of him. Muscles upon muscles adorning his figure, the scars on his body are like connect the dots and you remind yourself to trace them with your lips later. He is glistening with a sheen of sweat and you gulp, hands flying to touch his abdomen.

Godamnit, he's fucking gorgeous.

He shys under your touch, hesitant. But you have this look of absolute adoration, borderline worship that fills him with satisfaction and delight.

"Like what you see?" He doesn't pass the chance to taunt you and hide his own embarrassment.

"Yes." And your lack of shame gets the blush on his cheeks, you're not a single bit timid to eat him up with your eyes like this.

And his cock, gods, his cock. It's long and thick and just plain beautiful with veins that burn a deep green. Though, it currently looks painfully red and aching.

You reach your hand to feel him, licking your lips as you drag your hand along his length. It feels warm in your hand, almost too hot and you wonder how it would feel inside of you–

"Oh, angel..." he half-moans, half-complains, "as much as I'm very grateful... I would last an embarrassingly short amount of time if you touched me..."

The smile that sets itself on your lips is playful and a little bit proud to bring him such pleasure he'd be scared for his performance. So, you let go and he almost laments telling you to stop, he is just aching for you. Any bit of you he can get.

Techno teases at your entrance, collecting as much of your slick he can get. His head and cock are both pounding in lust; he can barely hold himself steady.

"Are you sure you want this?"

"Yes..."

"...You can't go back if we do this–"

"I'm sure of it."

"You can tell me if it hurts..." His breath is sultry on your neck, he steadies himself against the headboard of your bed, slowly penetrating.

The stretch, holy fuck, the stretch. It sends your mouth in an 'o' formation and you arch into his arms. Nothing could have prepared you for this.

When he settles, you feel it become less painful and more pleasurable.

You're tight. Tighter than anything he's ever felt, almost too tight. And that's when it hits him: the wave of guilt that flashes through his body like a punch.

"It's... It's your first?"

His expression is nothing you have seen before. Techno is never caught off-guard, but he looks scared like he's committed the worst of sins. And in his mind, he did. In his mind, he's taking advantage of poor little you, because no one would choose him with their own free will.

"Yes... And it's yours... I'm yours... as long you'll have me..." You smile, pulling his chin to hit him with as many kisses as you can. And it's like you've flipped a switch in his head. His eyes darken almost instantly, a lewd glaze taking over.

He has your first kiss and your first time. And unbeknownst to him, your heart as well.

You're his. Forever. Only his.

You hear the cracking sound of wood and realise he's held the poor wooden strips of your bed so tightly they've split in half. The same hands that ripped through mahogany like eggs take yours, intertwining fingers with such care.

"You're getting yourself in trouble..." Techno smiles against your lips.

"Am I now?"

"Oh, yes, you are. I'm never letting go of you."

And you smile back, content.

But something else wasn't enough. You buck your pelvis into his, wanting to get any friction he'll give you.

"Aren't you eager?" You just cry, clawing at his chest. "I'll need you to use your words... Tell me what you want."

Staring into his eyes with a pout, you only whine again, which makes him chuckle.

"Let me know, with your words, how much you want my cock..."

A sigh escapes your lips at his words, at the same time a flame creeps through your face. You're ashamed to have such thoughts but something else in you, a darker, deeper mindset wants to know what happens next; Wants to tell Techno of all the unruly thoughts you have and get a response from him.

Because, although you're not willing to admit it just yet, you want to see the effect you hold on him.

"I want you... so bad.." You whisper, eyes glued to his. "Please... Just move."

He smiles, kissing your forehead.

Pace set, he starts off slowly and it takes every fibre in his body to hold back. Even you can notice in his jaw, clenched so tight. Because he's thinking of you, no matter how much the voices hate him.

You buckle against his moves, everything feeling so sensitive, so much. He stretches you out so perfectly, you feel full. Complete.

Techno increases the pace gradually at the same pace your moans gain volume, every harmonious sound that leaves your lips serves as fuel for him, his hands are surely leaving bruises on your hips.

"Faster..."

He smirks, "Your first time and you're already crazy for it, huh?" a murmur that fills you delicious shame, "You fit so perfect around me, angel..." He punctuates his sentences with kisses along your jawline.

And you moan against him an incoherent line of noises that sound like "yes" and "please". When you raise your arm to cover your mouth, instead he grasps your wrist, intertwining your fingers together.

He holds your hand against the bedsheets as his hips thrust rapidly into you, a wave of pleasure travels swiftly through your body. Techno trembles against you, bestial groans erupt from his throat and every one of them gives you goosebumps.

"If only your friends saw you like this, angel... Just a cocksleeve, all fucked out..."

You nod at his words.

And he smiles at your perfection. Laid out under him, his crown so fitting with your image. He's the reason for your cries in pleasure.

"Oh, perfect little angel... If only they knew how crazy you are for this cock..."

"Yes...Oh, yes..."

Breed them. Breed them. Breed them.

Techno pulls out for a second and you whine at the loss; but when a second later, he slams into you at a rapid pace, you can only roll your eyes back and moan.

"Maybe I should fill you up..." It comes out like an animalistic growl against your throat. "Cum so much inside you it drips out. Let you walk around with my cum in you, you would like that, wouldn't you?" His pace increases and the guttural sound of skin to skin is much louder than the soft rain. "Maybe I should knock you up... Let you walk around with a piece of me in your womb, make you mine forever..."

You writhe around his cock, the buzz of his words float around your mind, "please..."

"What is it, angel?"

"fill me up, Techno."

Your eyes meet his and he knows, gods, he knows; You'll be the end of him someday.

He builds his movement even more and that's when you're over the edge, tightening around him like crazy, your moans are so loud your voice cracks. And that alone is enough to send him after his own climax.

Techno spills into you, there is so much you can barely fit it all and even if he stays inside to plug you up, it spills out.

He kisses your jaw and neck and nuzzles against your collarbones, you melt under his touch, lazy and fucked out. Still inside he collapses to your side, pulling you into his chest.

And with the soft rain and the heartbeat of his as lullabies, you found yourself drifting into sleep.

#c: techno #k: breeding #k:corruption #a: afab #g: romance #g: smut #mcyt smut #the meat locker

1K notes · View notes

1kook · 4 years

Text

attachment: 1 image

— jjk x (f) reader

summary; But for Jungkook to initiate some sexting, nevertheless sexting at 1pm on a Saturday, when you were at work and you were almost positive he was supposed to be on stream right now? Unheard of, you had to mark this down somewhere. warnings; sexting, dick pics, dirty talk?, phone sex, vivid depictions of jungkook being just so sexy bc its true, rating; mature (18+) misc; mentions of youtuber kook 🥰, he’s just horny, stupid selfie trends (see here), he’s a little whiny but so hot v.v wc; 4.6k

notes; I've had this in my drafts since april 😐 n then i was like maybe we should actually finish this so i started n then last night i hit another follower milestone!!! so then i rlly forced myself to finish this bc i was so 🥺🖤👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 anyway enjoy lmk what u think its not proofread bc uhhhhh yeah 🤩

You’re at work when it happens.

It’s sometime between your usual listless thoughts of what to write for your weekly reflection papers for some course, and your trip to your store’s pharmacy to bother a coworker. Your phone vibrates in the pocket of your work apron. You’re normally pretty good at ignoring the sound, most of the times it’s just a classmate asking for help on homework or Jimin lamenting his love life, so you’ve grown used to ignoring the tiny vibrations, stocking a quarter shelf of different cooking oils before something in your brain tells you to check your phone.

You already know it’s not something grave, but that thought alone means nothing at the sight of the tiny jungkook♡ that appears at the very top of the list of notifications. Your boyfriend’s texts tended to be wildcards, never following a certain routine or alluding to any specifics. He could send you a long paragraph on how much he misses the scent of that one shampoo, the one you’d briefly run through last year because your usual brand was out of stock, with a ten point explanation on why you should switch back to it. Or two word, caveman sentences that drove you crazy because you never understood what exactly he wanted when he’d send those nondescript “munchies dip” texts.

You unlock your phone, clicking to the messenger app instead of directly on the notification. Hopefully the preview will give some warning on whether you should invest in this conversation or not. You hated the read receipts on messages, choosing to ghost conversations as you pleased, but Jungkook had wiggled his way into your phone one afternoon and specifically turned them on for his chat with you, and you’d never turned them off since. So he knows if you choose to ignore Attachment: 1 Image at 1:43pm exactly, and he'll pester you about it until you respond.

You contemplate it all for twenty seconds. It could be a variety of things, you guess, but the only way to find out is to actually see with your own eyes what he’s up to this time. He knows better than to distract you at work, is usually really good at waiting until your shift is over to spam you with messages. For him to send you something now, only a few hours into your shift, is uncharacteristic of him.

But you glance down the aisle anyway, taking note of some elderly woman you’d helped a few minutes prior and another teenager aimlessly walking around, probably looking for the snack aisle. You inhale and press down on your chat with Jungkook.

It takes you a moment to make out exactly what the image is, twisting and turning your phone around as you fight to see it without raising the brightness. It’s only when your eyes finally adjust to the dark screen, the faint beeping of the check-out registers fading into the distance, that you realize it’s a shot of the front of his sweatpants.

“Hm?” you murmur, getting brave enough to pinch the image between two fingers, zooming in until you’re able to decipher a multitude of details. For one, there’s a Flaming Hot Cheeto stain on the hem of his sweatpants, the same one you’d accidentally put on there a few weeks back and haven’t been able to wash out since. Then there’s that huge palm of his, tattoos and all, rested carefully against his thigh. It’s veiny and thick in all the right places, bringing all the attention to his knuckles, which you guess is what he was going for when you consider the centerpiece of the image—his hardened dick straining against the grey material.

There’s no text attached to the message, no snapchat font slapped over the image, so you wonder what exactly he wanted you to do with this information mid-shift. Well, realistically, you know exactly what he wants, but that doesn’t mean you won’t clown him before getting there. After all, Jungkook was seldom the naughty texter; sexting annoyed him, he would whine, because he would do all that and not even get to feel the true pleasure of sex, of being inside you. You’ve dabbled in it here and there, but it never went as perfectly as it did in pornos. He’d drop his phone and forget it, or you would straight up ignore the damn device as you went all in on yourself.

But for Jungkook to initiate some sexting, nevertheless sexting at 1pm on a Saturday, when you were at work and you were almost positive he was supposed to be on stream right now? Unheard of, you had to mark this down somewhere.

you what’s this about?

You decide to play it safe, because as exciting as the image of Jungkook at his computer chair, cock hard and angry at the thought of you, fluffy hair ruffled in that way you adored, jaw twitching and tightening as he touched himself, moaned deep and rough and just how you liked and—

As nice as that image was, for all you knew this vague message was Jungkook sending you a picture from a week ago to purposefully fuck with you at work.

jungkook♡ what time u get off? jungkook♡ miss you bad baby

Your stomach flips, and it takes everything in you to not squeal and bounce between the shelves like a toddler on a sugar rush. Here was your boyfriend, the cutest, sweetest boy, sending you dirty pictures of himself and telling you how much he needed you. Yes, YOU, not some random on the street, or someone else in a club, Jungkook needed pleasure and that pleasure could only come from you.

You glance back down the aisle again, checking your surroundings for the second time that day. You’ve been standing here, stock cart empty for a little over five minutes now, so it’s probably best to change location lest your manager come barking down your neck. You send one quick text before heading off for stock again.

you 4pm :(

Your phone dings again just as you’re leaving the stockroom, but you decide to check it once you get to the hygiene aisle you need to work on next. Still, the prospect of Jungkook having texted you has you walking with a skip in your step, one your coworker teases you about when you pass by her.

jungkook♡ fuck jungkook♡ tell me what panties youre wearing jungkook♡ please ?

You bite your lip, stopping yourself from smiling at the tone you’d picked up from his message. There was no doubt he’d been riled up for a while now, and you wonder if he sat through his usual Saturday morning streams with his cock hard, pushed against the edge of his desk like you knew he did when such things happened. The thought has you nearly fumbling with a bottle of aloe vera.

you seamless black thong you the one you bought me at the last vs sale

Briefly, you wonder if you should have lied and told him you were wearing that red lace set he’d given you last Valentine’s Day, the one he’d bought with his first big YouTube check. But the beauty of being in a relationship with someone like Jungkook is that you could have told him you were wearing grandma undies and he’d still think you were the most beautiful person to grace the planet.

jungkook♡ mm jungkook♡ tiny ones u ruined last time?

You set your phone down, speed stock a row of sunscreen like you’re on some shelf stocking national competition, before daring to text Jungkook again. Your cheeks are still warm, and your hand tightens dangerously around a bottle of shaving cream.

Before you can formulate some response, he’s sending another one in.

jungkook♡ u soaked those jungkook♡ came fast that day jungkook♡ want u so bad

Your cheeks burn, a little embarrassed that he remembers such details. As with all Victoria’s Secret panties, they were, like Jungkook said, extremely thin. You pause, shift your stance just barely, but you’re definitely wet. Not terribly so, but with this fabric, you’d start to notice it sooner than with others.

you mm you makin me wet bunny

It’s not a complete lie, but knowing Jungkook this is exactly what he needs to hear to get that competitive streak going. You shake your head to clear your thoughts, stocking another section of men’s shaving cream. It takes longer for him to message you back, and you wonder if he got off fine on his own. If it’s over now, at least he provided you with some distraction midway into your shift.

When he texts you again, you’ve almost completely convinced yourself he’s finished, so the Attachment: 1 Video that appears on your lock screen throws you for a loop.

It’s a short clip, no longer than ten seconds, but it has you scrambling to lower the volume on your device as some unsuspecting mother of two wanders past. You flash her your practiced smile, the same one you give all the store’s customers. Not like your boyfriend is jacking it off on your phone, shallow pants filtering out from the speakers.

You turn your phone over carefully after she leaves, try to at least pretend you’re still doing your job as you play the video again.

Sweats are gone, but boxers remain. Legs deliciously exposed, thick thighs with muscles that ripple when he moves. Shirt pulled up just slightly to showcase that broad expanse of tummy, cute belly button and defined abs that tighten with each glide of his palm over the outline of his cock. Your mouth fills with drool at the sight. He was so hot.

Your brain hasn’t even processed it yet, all your energy directed towards your clenched pussy, when he shoots another text.

jungkook♡ im so fckin hard jungkook♡ wanna kiss yuo every where baby jungkook♡ come ove r soon ??

Shutting your eyes and counting to ten doesn’t help ward off the sudden wave of horniness that consumes you, but it does remind you of the job you’re supposed to be doing now. You shake your head, as if the image of Jungkook’s dick throbbing beneath his boxers, low voice in your ear, will magically disappear. It doesn’t, and it plagues you even more when you begin stocking a section of sunscreen, numbly instructing yourself on what to do next. Shaving cream, sunscreen, lotion next, you repeat.

It doesn’t help.

Two minutes later and you’re scrambling for the phone you’d hastily tucked into your apron pocket, tapping your passcode in until your messages with Jungkook are pulled up again.

you after work you promise

Your head is absolutely spinning, the coil in your stomach too tight for you to try and be a functioning member of society. Something in you says to sneak off to the bathroom and call him, but your boss is a little bit of a prick when he wants to be, thinks you take too many bathroom breaks as is.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. A curt call of your name has you whirling to face your shelves again, phone tightly pressed against your ribs like maybe it’ll melt into your skin and he won’t see it. At the same time, your sudden fright has you scrambling to turn it off, fingers sloppily pressing against the buttons, hitting the volume like seven times before you eventually feel the familiar click that signals it’s off.

Your boss disappears shortly after, and with his sudden appearance having made every hair on your body stand, you find yourself now slumping against your stock cart. Jesus, that man was a handful to deal with.

The paranoia sticks for a little bit, has you stocking shelf after shelf like a robot until you finish the entire row of hygiene products, back stiff from bending over so much. It’s only when you return to the stockroom ten minutes later that you dare take your phone out again.

A pleasant surprise awaits.

It would appear that during your haste to hide your phone from your boss— Jungkook’s scandalous messages and all —your frantic hands had done something else. A fuzzy picture on your end, a blurry display of lotion bottles you had stacked just before your boss’s impromptu appearance, with no words to accompany them. Normally Jungkook would have ignored that; you frequently sent accidental messages like this, butt texted him, he says.

But there’s something about Jungkook’s horny brain that makes him do stupid things, makes him blow up your phone with a series of question marks, call you four times, whine and fuss in your message thread, and eventually, send you probably the oddest image to date.

jungkook♡ ??? jungkook♡ ????what is that jungkook♡ baby please jungkook♡ I don’t get it ??

jungkook♡ Missed Call (4)

jungkook♡ baby jungkook♡ what does it mean jungkook♡ please ur drivign me insane jungkook♡ jsut wanna hear yuor voice jungkook♡ fuck please just

And then, there’s another one of those cursed Attachment: 1 Image messages.

You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are. You’ve been dating Jungkook for a few months now, know he had that sort of unique personality most college dropouts turned YouTubers do. But every now and then the absurdity of his actions makes you question him still, makes you wonder what exactly goes on in that pretty head of his to warrant such ideas, makes him balance a bottle of body lotion on the thick outline of his cock like this.

Unlike the first few images, this one was taken in front of a mirror. The blinding fluorescent light in his bathroom paints him in a stark color, has every inch of his pretty face on display for you. Rosy cheeks, dewy skin. Perfectly swollen cock straining beneath his grey boxers, curved up against his hip. Shirt pulled up, finally freeing that expanse of muscles on his abdomen, cute little belly button on display once again. The red material is pulled up to his mouth, pearly white teeth biting down on the fabric, and he’s got this flushed expression on his face.

But the real star of the show isn’t his chiseled abdomen or sexy expression, but the sheer hardness of his dick that lets him balance a bottle of body lotion over it, like a fuckin’ shelf or something. He’s so hard, dick so full beneath his boxers. So big too, the little boxers pulled taught around said engorged cock and thick thighs.

Your brain says to laugh, to tease him for being such a clown even when he’s horny as hell. He won’t take it to heart, will probably laugh along with you and you’ll add it to your still growing list of funny memories.

But your caveman libido says call him, so that’s what you do, ducking down behind a new shipment pallet with a squeak as the phone rings. It only lasts four seconds before he picks up, voice breathy and low, but it sounds so loud in the silence of the stockroom.

He doesn’t even let you get a greeting in. “You like my picture, baby?” he husks. It sounds like he’s right there, right beside you, speaking into your ear. Your pussy throbs at the way he sounds. Paired with the picture from before, it has your body tingling all over.

“What the fuck is that?” you hiss, trying to not let the sudden overflow of arousal leak into your words. Jungkook chuckles.

“What?” he huffs. There’s the brief sound of shuffling, the scratchy noise of his phone presumably being pressed against his shoulder. “I’m so hard, baby,” he sighs before you can pretend to reprimand him any further. “Fuck— you, can you just talk to me?” he groans, and the disgusting sound of him spitting into his palm fills your ear.

Your face feels warm, eyes nervously peering across the stockroom like your boss will suddenly appear now of all times to rip you from this important phone call. The anxiety and arousal mix weirdly, have your leg bouncing but every new movement sends a shock up your aching cunt to your chest, and then out to the tips of your fingers.

“You shouldn’t be doing that when I’m at work,” you murmur hurriedly, moving to nervously bite at your finger. Jungkook moans softly.

“Uh huh,” he says.

The air conditioning turns on and you nearly jump out of your own skin. “Kook,” you stress, frazzled by your own burning arousal and the fear of being caught. Like you said. Weird mix. “I— not when I can’t respond.”

He shudders on the line. “You’re responding now,” he points out. You hate when he’s right. Before you can defend yourself, define what a proper response is in this scenario, he’s beating you to the punch. “Baby,” he whimpers, voice so airy yet low, makes your eyes roll into the back of your head, back unconsciously arching. “Couldn’t stop— fuck.”

Your mouth feels dry, all and any form of lecturing fading from your thoughts as you become consumed in Jungkook’s little whines and whimpers. He talks smoothly, a modern day Casanova, and it’s certainly because of that cult-like harem he’s gathered on YouTube. Teenage girls who kiss his ass, tell him he’s cute and dreamy. Make his ego so big.

But then he gets horny and can barely contain that lisp you tease him about, shivers and melts when you put his cock in your mouth. “Couldn't what, bunny?” you mumble, voice drawn tight because now you were really horny, and it was all his fault.

The nickname makes him mewl prettily, your speaker suddenly going scratchy as he fumbles with his phone. “C- Couldn't stop thinking about you— your mouth,” he admits, and now you’re certain he’d sat through that Saturday morning stream like this. “T- Tits,” he adds, lisp slipping through. “Fuck.”

You bite your lip, eyes fluttering shut as you remind yourself now was not the time or place to get yourself off. But, well. That didn’t mean you couldn’t get him off. “Sat through your stream like this?” you murmur, circling your kneecap with a trembling finger as if it’ll ward away the raging lust in your abdomen. Jungkook confirms with a breathy moan. “Had all your little fans wondering why you ended so early.”

He groans. “No,” he chokes, voice hot from how much it wavers. “They— I lied,” he confesses out of nowhere, “s- said I had a doctor’s appointment.”

You muffle a giggle into your palm. “Naughty,” you tease. “Too hard to do your job.”

“Just,” he cuts off, voice feathery. He sounds so close and you haven’t even said anything of substantial value yet. “Tell me,” he says quietly, “what to— mmh, what to do.”

A smirk consumes your features. You try to hide it, but there’s no one here anyway so you’re left grinning at an unpacked box of dental floss like a madwoman. “Why?” you inquire playfully, bask in the sad little whimper he responds with. “Shouldn’t you know how to make yourself cum?”

Another groan of frustration, desperation seeping into his tone when he speaks again. “Baby, please,” he begs, and it feels good. Feels nice to have this big YouTuber begging for you like this, whimpering your name like his doesn’t appear on the top 25 most viewed. “Like when you— ah — when you tell me… what to do.”

Your body feels hot, thighs pressing together with each whimper that falls from his lips. “Okay,” you concede, and he audibly moans in relief. “Tip first,” you instruct softly, eyes defocusing as your brain slowly starts to manifest the image of Jungkook spread out on his bed. Thick thighs, grey boxers pulled taught around them, fat cock between his pretty hands, inked knuckles squeezing around his member. You swallow. You can tell exactly when Jungkook does as you say because another muffled moan fills the speaker. “One finger,” you remind him quickly, head spinning from the mere memory of his dick. “Run it… run it over the slit, bunny.”

“Nngh—“ Jungkook sputters. You can only imagine the face he’s making now, the bottom lip he’s bitten raw by now. He does it a lot; it’s a nervous habit. But as sexy as it looks when you’re in bed, you know he has sensitive lips because of it, bleeds easily if he’s too harsh. You have half the mind to remind him about it now, but then he’s hurriedly gasping out for more. “And, and then? Wha— what then, baby?”

He sounds so sweet, melodic voice dripping with honey. “Touch your balls,” you say a little breathlessly. “Don’t squeeze,” you add, “just roll your palm over them.” Your palm squeezes against your thigh, as if it’s remembering the feel of his body, the soft skin between his thighs when you’re down there. He gets so jittery, thick thighs nearly crushing you if you drag him along too much. “O- Other hand on your cock,” you stumble, thighs squeezed together. “Stroke yourself just like I do, bunny.”

Jungkook complies. “Just like you?” he mumbles, suddenly sounds farther away. As if he’s dropped his phone off to the side. “Fffuck,” he grunts, “m- mouth is so pretty.”

“Hm?” you inquire, so consumed with tampering down your growing arousal for a second that you miss his sentence.

Jungkook’s breath stutters, and for a moment you’re met with the wet squelch of his cock in his hand. And then, “pretty mouth… make me— make me wanna see you cry.”

You bite your lip. “Why,” you say tentatively, finally caving in with a hand fluttering over the front seam of your jeans. Not a question, more of a gentle nudge for him to spill his thoughts.

“Be- Because,” he cries, fucking into his hand. He sounds closer and closer. You have to wonder just how long he had been riled up. It’s been a while since his first message, he was probably desperate by now. “Y- You’re so nice,” he cries, and the sentiment, though oddly out of place, makes your heart squeeze with adoration for the boy on the line. “Wanna be,” he groans, “wanna be so fucking mean to you, baby.”

The sudden change of tone makes you choke on a moan, hand pressing against your mound like it’ll somehow penetrate the thick material of your jeans and give you the sensations you crave. As it stands, it’s a muted feeling you get instead. When your hands fail, his voice compensates. “Fffuck, don’t you— don’t you think about it too?”

Admittedly, no.

Jungkook had always been a gentleman in bed. Always cared for your needs before his own, went out of his way to make you feel pampered and adored during your most vulnerable moments. Contrary to what his online persona might say, he was a good boy. Sweetest boy you knew, touched you like you were made of glass.

So to suddenly learn of this dream— fantasy? kink? —of his that you would certainly enjoy equally as much, well. It made you whimper into your palm, eyes worriedly flickering toward the stockroom’s entrance.

“Why?” you whisper, feeling like a broken doll repeating the same phrase over and over again. You’re suddenly aware of how hot everything was. Your polo felt sticky against your spine, apron too tight, jeans too stuffy. How long had you been hiding in here for? You don’t even know. Hopefully your absence on the floor had gone unnoticed.

Jungkook pants into the line; everything sounds so sticky and wet on his end, hand undoubtedly working away at his cock. “Shit,” he curses, doesn’t really answer your question until you prod a second time. “I- I like it,” he stammers. “When you… fuck, when you look small.” He elaborates before you can even ask, breath heavy and drawn out. He was so close. “When your mouth… when it hurts,” he says, thoughts a scrambled mess. “Like when you— when you cry because my cock is— it’s too big for you.”

A blatant ego boost you’ll ignore for now. Not like you can focus on too many things right now anyway. “Your cock is big, bunny,” you agree softly instead. Your legs feel cramped from crouching so long, so you push yourself to your feet. Except then you’re made aware of how fucking wet you are, panties soaked from the phone call with your boyfriend. You shift and they stick to your folds, make you release a shaky exhale that Jungkook doesn’t miss.

“I— you’re wet,” he says boldly, and this time your meek confirmation isn’t a lie. Jungkook grunts. “Fuck, baby, I—“ cut off by his own whiny cry, probably bucking into his hand like a madman by now. “Wanna, wanna kiss you everywhere,” he says, a call back to his earlier message. Your legs feel like jello. You want him to kiss you everywhere too— lips, tits, cunt that is dripping for him now.

“I- I’ll be over soon,” you stammer, feeling like you’ll pass out if he carries on any further. He sounds so good on the line, soft pants, rough growls. You can’t possibly listen anymore, not when you’re so wet and horny in the middle of your shift. “Just,” you pause, can’t get the image of his pretty cock out of your mind. Every blink makes it more vivid, reminds you of the vein on the underside, the exact shade of the tip.

“What?” Jungkook hisses, voice higher than usual, parts of it lost under the rapid movements of his hand. “Tell me, baby, tell me what to do,” he begs hoarsely, “I’ll do it.” Sounds so desperate and needy, two seconds away from busting all over his hand.

You have to lean against the wall of the stockroom to ground yourself, remind yourself you’re not in the same situation as Jungkook and can’t cum in your pants like a teenager. “J- Just cum,” you choke, eyes fluttering shut.

He must’ve been waiting for that command, because the second the words leave your throat he’s filling the line with breathy groans and cries as he comes all over himself, probably ruins his t-shirt. The sounds have your hips unconsciously bucking forward into nothingness, the frustration of not being able to cum with him manifesting in the form of a tiny little sob. Luckily, he doesn’t catch it.

When it’s all said and done, he’s left panting into the receiver, flooding your speaker with breathy sighs that only make you more and more aroused.

“You’re terrible,” you frown, cheeks flushed, body tingling. You flip your wrist over and check the time; it’s been about sixteen minutes since you disappeared from outside. Sixteen minutes of listening to Jungkook touch himself and moan and whine and whimper. Tease you with new possibilities you had never considered before. And now he’s satisfied and you’re not.

Jungkook chuckles, low and tired. The sound shoots straight to your cunt. “Come over after you shift,” he says, as if you’re not planning to fake a severe case of the flu right now in order to get off early and run to his bed. You only had a little less than two hours of your shift left anyway. Not like they paid you well to begin with. Jungkook shifts, releases one of those saccharine groans as he probably snuggles into his bed, all sweaty and worn out. “Want you to fuck my face, baby.”

You frown, counting to ten to calm yourself down. Another few minutes of listless conversation, and you hang up. Your body feels featherlight, a little woozy as you make your way back out into the floor.

Nothing has changed. Customers pour in and out, your boss scolds you for a display you didn’t do, and life inside the store drags on. No one knows that you’re soaking your panties to hell and back, Jungkook’s soothing moans in your ear. Life goes on.

you shift ends in 20

jungkook♡ sweet jungkook♡ got your seat ready jungkook♡ Attachment: 1 Image

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jjk smut #jeongguk smut #jjk♡#jeon jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader smut #jeon jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts jungkook #mine

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gold-pavilion · 3 years

Text

Shin soukoku and the philosophy of “meaning”

It’s a running theme that the team dubbed double black is always comprised of two very different but complementary members, from ability and skills to character and values. Shin soukoku, the new double black, isn’t the exception but actually the greatest exponent of that.

Now, it’s also not unintentional that BSD’s characters and their viewpoints can sometimes represent different schools of existential thought, developing and clashing with others - it’s a theme that’s very central to BSD itself after all - and it’s precisely there, on that plane, where the opposition is built most strongly between Atsushi and Akutagawa.

I’ll explain each of their standpoints, and in a minute you’ll see exactly what I mean.

Starting with Atsushi, his character arc sees him overcoming the idea he was raised under: that he needs to earn and justify his right to be alive, otherwise he’s a burden at best or pernicious at worst. And so, the need he displays to save others is both an act of empathy and a pathological need to be good for something, so that he can feel forgiven and justified.

(Continuing under the cut due to length and plenty of imgs.)

This view has guided Atsushi from the start. It’s what pushed him to consider self-sacrifice as the only thing he could do during his ADA entrance test, what caused him to desperately want to save both the civilians during Kajii’s train hijack and Kyouka shortly after. It’s explained the most clearly in the following exchange with Akutagawa himself, during the Echo chapters:

But one thing is the ghost of the past behind Atsushi’s back, and another is his own thinking. Such ideas didn’t originate from him and they’re certainly not his own; in fact, Atsushi is fighting against them.

Thanks to his own desire to live and the very healing effect of his time with the ADA, he’s quickly learned that no one can decide someone else’s worth or determine whether they have a right to live. That the worth in a person is inherent; a being doesn’t have to “be worthy”, it just has to be. It exists because it exists, not through virtue of being allowed by someone else. Existing, in itself, has worth, and anything more can be built up from there. That’s what he’s arrived at and what he wants to prove.

Akutagawa is aware of this viewpoint.

But Akutagawa refuses and opposes such a philosophy. He, on the other hand, has never seen or known worth in existence alone. Rather, his ideology is that a being doesn’t have worth, but must become worthy by virtue of being useful for something, being acknowledged for an achievement or use, and thus be given significance. To him, not everyone deserves their existence, not everyone gets that peace of mind. Not if they don’t win it first.

This is, of course, what his childhood in the slums and his education under Dazai taught him, what Dazai drilled into the deepest parts of him.

A being with no use is something worse than dead: it’s meaningless. It can be discarded, since it’s as good as nothing. So what he must do is earn his place and prove his significance.

Even now, he must prove it.

In other words, we can summarize their standpoints this way: facing the question of “what makes it meaningful to be alive? What is meaning?”, Atsushi’s character as a whole represents the answer that “meaning is inherent to the self”, while Akutagawa’s says “meaning is determined externally to the self”.

When Atsushi and Akutagawa clash, it’s often a direct opposition between these two ideas. Akutagawa’s initial hate for Atsushi hinged on the frustration that someone like him, someone who didn’t prove to be strong enough and worthy enough, was being treated with humanity and given Dazai’s recognition. Likewise, Atsushi’s hate for Akutagawa was born from the latter’s disregard for life itself, for itself, which nullified his capacity for empathy.

Bearing this in mind, the following dialogues (taking place near the beginning, during Kyouka’s arc) become much clearer and more telling:

Akutagawa wanted her to have what he so desperately works for. Atsushi wanted her to be told what he so desperately needed too. Through their perspectives of Kyouka, they very much exposed their individual philosophies. And this first clash of values would shape their joint character arcs.

Of course, at the bottom of it all, what they both struggle with is the same: self-worth. And what they desire is also the same: to live meaningful lives. For Atsushi the answer is already at hand, what he must do is save lives and help people through the ADA, it’s what fulfills him and, little by little, eases the psychological ‘curse’ placed upon him by his deceased mentor. For Akutagawa, the answer is obtaining Dazai’s acknowledgement, being given worth by the only person he truly thinks can confer it to him, in order to feel that his life has been and is something of value.

Though their search is similar, their answers are opposite and that’s what makes them two sides of the same coin, in a more profound way than anything else could. That’s what they are, as the current double black.

Or is it? Is that all?

After all, they didn’t simply stay as opposites and leave it at that, fighting each other without extending a single bridge between them. Akutagawa has shown time and time again that he understands Atsushi’s viewpoint, that he sees him. Atsushi sees him as well, and because of that, he’s set that unexpected bridge in order for Akutagawa to truly come closer and see things from his side of the divide. The constant friction of the two opposing forces erodes and begins to change them both.

Akutagawa, most of all, is still on a journey, tried and tested against Atsushi’s mostly defined arc. Through the rule of no killing, he’s gaining a new perspective on the value of life in general, and may yet see his own under a new light. Even now, he’s reconsidering what he’s proving and why.

In this setup of opposing philosophies something may yet change. This instance of soukoku, which has been built in a similar manner to the previous ones (that I believe have also had streaks of philosophical opposition written into them, but that’s thought and talk for another time) might result in something a tad different and be, in a way, more successful than their predecessors.

But that’s the story Asagiri-sensei is still in process of telling us, so we’ll see what comes as we continue to read it.

For now, thanks for reading this!

Manga credit: easygoingscans’s translation of BSD’s first arcs, dazaiscans’s translation of Portrait of a Father and the Echo chapters, and my translation for the recent Decay arc chapters.

#bsd meta #bsd and philosophy #shin soukoku #akutagawa ryuunosuke #nakajima atsushi #sskk #thoughts and talk and so #bungou stray dogs #izumi kyouka #she always ends up being very relevant #if the subject is the themes of bsd

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existslikepristin · 3 years

Text

Yexercise

This was the vote story immediately after Movie Night. Note: image has all three members from the beginning, but it ended up being all Yeri.

Tags: TheLounge, Red Velvet, Yeri, male reader insert, blowjob, titfucking, anal, va--nilla sex, workout sex, exhaustion, kink talk, appearances from Wendy/Seulgi/Irene but JoY hAs A bOyFrIeNd

~~~~~

"Hey, thanks. You don't need to give me the discount though," you say. You put your wallet back in your pocket, pick up the bag of muffins, and take the coffee from the guy across the counter.

"Nonsense! The Lounge wouldn't be so successful without your help. Besides, the profit margin on that stuff is insane."

The two of you chuckle with each other for a moment, and you smell the coffee he practically gave you free. Fresh roasted and ground on location, not too much sugar, and slightly more cream than usual. "Damn, man. This stuff smells like heaven."

"Heaven? Haha! More like Brazil! But speaking of heaven, who's the lucky lady today? You never get more than one muffin on your own."

You shrug. The man knows you, that's for sure. "Well, not a date this time. Wendy asked me to meet her here,"

"Oh, Red Velvet?"

"Yup. I think it's a business thing. I was asking her about song composing but I'm not supposed to tell you she's getting into that."

"Of course." He raises his eyebrows and flattens his mouth. "You know how Mr. SM can be about these things."

That's exactly what SinB and Eunha said and did a couple days ago, and nobody ever explained what they meant. "Actually, I--"

"Ah, there she is! And Seulgi and Yeri too!"

You turn around to see that he is definitely correct. Holding the door open is Wendy, dressed in a blue-and-white-striped sweater that sags off one of her shoulders, baggy blue jeans, and white sneakers. Her light brown hair is draped over one shoulder. Her casual outfit is contrasted by her exceptional, yet minimal make up.

Yeri has already passed her and entered the building. Unlike Wendy, her make up consists of some lazy eyeliner and not much else. Your heart skips a beat when you see her light gray yoga pants are as tight as a second skin, though her pink hoodie hangs just low enough to see any of her ass. She's cut her hair into a short bob again, and dyed it dirty blonde.

Seulgi follows Yeri, and certainly looks the most put-together overall. Her jet black hair is pulled into a ponytail so you can see her glamorous earrings and bright red lips. She's wearing a nearly wrinkleless white dress shirt barely see through enough to show her bra, black business pants, and short black heels.

A shiver crashes down your spine, nearly making you drop your coffee. You're not sure you'll ever get used to seeing all these gorgeous idols in person, and especially not when they're approaching you.

"Hey, sorry we're late," Wendy opens the conversation, "We got held up for a minute."

Yeri smirks. It looks like she's paying more attention to the menu overhead than to any one person. "Held up by some Canadian grandma driving."

Wendy frowns. "It's called a speed limit."

Seulgi gives you a short bow. You do the same back. Finally, a regular greeting. Then again, it makes sense since she's the one you've spent the least amount of time with. That's not saying much though, since you haven't had much opportunity to get to know any member of Red Velvet. "Good to see you again," she says formally.

"Oh shut up Sluggo, you know why we're here." Yeri points up at the menu. "I'll take the mocha--"

"What she means is... Well, can we talk?" Wendy asks, looking more than a little flustered.

"Yeah, totally. I got some muffins for us to share, but I thought it was just going to be the two of--"

"Fuck yeah, bro! Thanks!" Yeri snatches the muffin bag out of your hand and has one halfway in her mouth before you can protest.

Wendy sighs. "Let's sit down, shall we?"

Getting a table with room for four is a simple matter. Seulgi sits opposite from you, Yeri next to her, and Wendy next to you.

Yeri's busy eating both of the muffins you bought, which may be the only reason Wendy is able to finish her thoughts. "So, we don't have a whole lot of time. We're actually-- well, two of us are going to a gig in like fifteen minutes, but you know we're really busy. I mean, of course, you know us, and we've got a thing in fifteen-- Ugh. I'm sorry, I'm so bad at this. How's your day been?"

Normally in all of your previous conversations, short as they have been, you've noticed that Wendy is generally much more confident than this. "Um, pretty good. It's still early though. Just got here myself, so I haven't had time to do much today."

"Oh geez, that's right. I'm sorry, the last few weeks have really just been blending together, you know? So like, you know Yerin right? I mean, of course you know Yerin. So Yerin has been talking to Joy, and you've been brought up in that, and so we know a little bit about you."

You chuckle and scratch the back of your neck. "Ah, crap. If Yerin's been talking about me, I can only imagine the kinds of things she's said." Obviously, your history with Yerin and her perverted attitude can mean one thing.

Seulgi blushes. "Y-yeah. Is it okay that we're talking to you about this?"

"I mean, we haven't really talked about anything specific yet."

"They mean sex." Yeri blurts out, slightly muffled by muffin.

You laugh. Thinking back on Wendy's texts and her vague word choices, you figured she had a serious question for you, but you still can't figure out what it is she wanted to talk to you about. It's a little awkward that she brought two of her group members with her if she's looking for advice, too. "I kind of figured that's what it was about. But hell yeah, I'm an open book. What's on your mind?"

Wendy lets out a relieved sigh. "Oh my gosh, thank you. I thought I was going to die from my own awkwardness there."

She pauses as a barista walks over with Yeri's drink. You make note of the way, out of the corner of her eye, Yeri watches the barista's ass as she walks away.

Wendy continues with a bright smile that you're a little more used to seeing, "So uh, the three of us are currently looking for something, and wanted to know what your rates are."

You hesitate, piecing together what Wendy just said with the fact that the conversation has been defined as one about sex. "Has Yerin been... saying I'm a prostitute?"

Suddenly, it feels like you're in a pressure cooker. Silence grips the table as the tension rises. Wendy stares at you like a deer in the headlights, her eyes widening slowly and her smile fading.

The sound of the steamer behind the store's counter sets off a chain reaction of noise.

"OH MY GOD," Wendy shouts, "I AM SO SORRY!"

Yeri slaps the table and bursts into laughter, sending crumbs of muffin everywhere. Seulgi is glowing red, shaking all over, and looking frantically between you, Wendy, and the mess Yeri is making.

"I DIDN'T MEAN-- OH GOD--" Wendy grabs your arm with both hands, crushing down as if she's afraid you're about to leave. She lowers her voice to a hushed tone, but speaks at the speed of a runaway train, "I'm so sorry I didn't mean anything by it I supp-- We all support the sex work industry and I'm sorry I didn't me--"

The other two have effectively disappeared. Seulgi, with her arms covering her face and crouched low in her chair. Yeri has fallen to the floor, truly making the scene worse with how hard she's laughing and gasping for air.

For as mildly insulted as you feel, you aren't very surprised, considering Yerin's habit of using insults and crude words as terms of endearment. You smirk and put a hand on Wendy's shoulder. You try to calm her down, but are slightly afraid she won't hear you through her rambling, "Hey, hey. You're good. I'm not a prostitute, but it's fine."

Wendy slows down, but appears to be on the verge of hyperventilation. "I can't believe this. I shouldn't have assumed. Oh god. I am such a dumbass."

You get out of your chair and wrap your arms around her. She immediately shuts up, face melting into your chest. "You're good, Wendy. Honestly, that's hilarious more than anything."

Yeri is calming down a little as well, with the aid of Seulgi furiously brushing away the streaks of black makeup running off of her eyes. Even so, she can barely manage to get back into her chair, still having giggle fits and clutching at her stomach.

"I might not be one, but I think I can help you out anyway. What exactly are you looking for?" You let go of Wendy and watch her dab at a few tears that started with a napkin.

"No, no. I don't think I can say after all that. I am... so embarrassed right now."

Still fighting to catch her breath, Yeri chimes in, "We're too busy to find dick so she tried to find a way to schedule it. Holy shit, 'Sup? How's your day? How much do you charge for a good time, ho?' Right? Wow, Wendy."

"Yeri! That's not what she said!" Seulgi slaps at Yeri's arm and nervously looks around for anyone who might still be watching.

"Might as well have been! This is the best!"

You can't help but chuckle along with Yeri. You stare in her direction, hoping to get her attention with your next sentence, "You don't have to pay to fuck me."

That shuts Yeri up. She stares back. "Woah, you serious?"

You sit back down and glance at Wendy and Seulgi. They're staring too.

"Yeah, why not? Sounds like fun. Hell, I'd go for it right now, but you've got a gig to get to, right?"

Seulgi shakily raises a hand as if she's asking permission to speak. "O-only two of us are going to that."

Underneath the table, you feel someone's foot sliding up and down your leg. You have no doubt it's Yeri's, as she speaks up again, "Why don't you guess which one of us isn't busy today?"

Yeah. Why don't you?

Options for Part 1 [IMPORTANT (duh)]: 1. (Picked:) Is it Yeri? It seems too obvious, given how eager she obviously is. But she could be straight up trolling you. That seems like something she'd do. If it's her, you imagine you'll end up exhausted soon. She seems to have a LOT of energy to burn.

2. Is it Wendy? She's the one who organized this meetup after all. Maybe she'll ask you to come along as she drops the other members off at their gig. If she's the one, you can guess you'll have a very nice, sweet time. She's got those wifey vibes.

3. Is it Seulgi? She's been very quiet this whole time. She definitely took the time to dress to impress today. Maybe it's you she means to impress. If you're spending the day with her, you have no clue what to expect. You've got to watch out for the quiet ones...

~~~~~

You look underneath the table and see it is, in fact, Yeri who is stroking your leg with her foot. Her running shoes aren't exactly making it comfortable or sexy.

"I'm going to guess it's you."

"Sure is, babe." Yeri winks. Wendy and Seulgi both groan in unison. Yeri doesn't seem to mind them at all.

"So," Wendy says slowly, "you really meant that about having sex with us? I don't want to pressure you."

You look across the table and see Seulgi biting her lip, not in an intentionally sexy way, but maybe nervously?

"Yup. I'm not free literally all the time, so we might have to actually schedule it, which definitely feels weird, but I'm up for it."

Wendy grins. "Awesome! Thanks! Thanks? Thanks."

"But hey, to be totally clear, why me? You guys know you can have sex with each other, right?"

Seulgi pops in, "We have. It's just... we all want different things that others aren't comfortable with."

"Yeah, getting fucked softly by strapons is boooring," Yeri says. She glares at Wendy.

"H-hey! You know my hip--"

You're about to ask what they all want to do that's so radically different, or why they assume you're okay with all of it, but Wendy's phone alarm goes off.

"Crap. So, can we talk about this later? We have to get to our shoot."

"Totally, sure. Text me when you're off?"

Wendy and Seulgi are already starting to walk away. Yeri has made herself quite comfortable where she is though.

"I'll text you, yeah! Um, are you okay with babysitting that one for a bit?"

Yeri scrunches up her nose. "The fuck, bitch?!"

You laugh. "Yeah, why not?"

Wendy smiles and rushes out the door. Seulgi follows, but only after giving you a polite bow. "See you again soon!"

The busy life of a big three idol, you muse to yourself.

"Hmmm, seems we've got some time to kill, huh?" Yeri leans forward on the table, squeezing her tits through her bulky sweatshirt.

"Guess we do. I have one formal request to have sex with you and another to babysit you. Bit unusual."

Yeri groans. "Yeah fuck that. You realize I'm well into my twenties right? I want your cock, not a bedtime story."

You decide against telling her about the stories you swapped with SinB just a couple nights ago. "Couldn't put you to bed if I wanted to with that extra large mocha you've got there," you say instead.

“You could put me in a bed.”

“Snappy one. I like it.”

Yeri smirks and takes a sip of her coffee. “I don’t mean right now though. I’ve got something in mind already.”

“You mean what you were going to pay me to do?”

“Sure was, ho. Why? You still want the money?”

You sigh. “Well I’m really not in the business. So if you really want to spend something on me, maybe get me some breakfast? You ate mine.”

“You can eat me.”

After you give her a brief, unamused look, she relents. “Okay. Okay. What do you want? You can eat it on the way.”

“I see you like to make assumptions. And I’ll take a smoked salmon bagel.”

“I’m used to my assumptions being met. And I didn’t know they made those here.”

“Do you assume you’re going to get your way today? And they’re delicious.”

“Maybe I do assume that. I guess we’ll see. And I’ll have one too.”

Yeri hops off of her seat and goes back to the counter to put in your order. Thanks to the lack of a line or crowd, the bagels are ready by the time you’ve followed her. You open the bag.

“Four? Feeling hungry this morning?”

“Oh I’m starving for dick, but only one of those is for me. The others are for you. You’ll need the energy.”

“Question.” You stop, The Lounge’s front door half open in your hand. “Do you always speak so boldly and then follow it up immediately with something vague?”

She smirks and you watch as one of her hands slides around your waist and traces your butt before giving it a tight squeeze. She reaches past you with her other hand and pulls the door open the rest of the way so she can step outside, slowly twirling around you. “No,” she says, “Sometimes, I don’t speak.”

Smooth, you think.

The walk to wherever Yeri is taking you is a pleasant one. She takes your hand, intertwining your fingers with hers. She walks in sync with you. She makes easy conversation about work, food, and ideal local vacation spots. She nibbles on her bagel slowly enough that she finishes right about when you finish all three of yours. You almost forget that less than an hour ago she was making lewd comments about hiring you for sex, and that she is currently taking you to a location where she intends to fuck you.

It’s not long before you reach a building that she pulls you into, swiping a key card to open the door. The inside isn’t particularly remarkable, and you don’t see any signs anywhere that would reveal the building’s purpose. Three flights of stairs going up and one more key card swipe through a door, and you find yourself in a small gym.

One wall is effectively a single giant mirror like a dance studio would have, and there’s a variety of equipment you recognize as being for pilates as well as weight training and a treadmill. The floor is ever so slightly spongy-soft, it’s well lit when she flips on the lights, there’s a large potted fern in one corner with a small stereo next to it, and it’s otherwise undecorated. It smells like sweat.

“Personal, private gym?” you ask.

“Personal, private gym,” Yeri says. She drops her purse and kicks off her shoes next to the door, motioning for you to do the same.

“Not that I’m complaining, but couldn’t we have used a room at The Lounge, or your place, or mine?”

“Maybe. But I’m comfortable here. And there aren’t any company bitches here to get on my case for getting our freak on.”

Yeri walks into the middle of the room and pulls her hoodie over her head. It turns out she was only wearing a purple sports bra underneath.

Although she is still fully dressed as far as modern societal standards are concerned, you find yourself staring at her incredibly sexy body as if it’s totally exposed. Her leggings are exactly as skin-tight as you were hoping, practically revealing her firm ass. If she’s even wearing anything underneath them, you can’t tell. But as she lifts her arms above her head to toss her hoodie behind her and to stretch, it’s her mostly bare back and the toned muscle running up and down either side of her spine that catches you off guard. You can’t take your eyes away. She looks at you in the mirror and catches you staring.

“I’m glad you like,” she says, putting one finger between her teeth in the corner of her mouth and giving you a sultry look you didn’t think she was capable of. She twists to look at you over her shoulder. “Your turn.”

You remove your jacket and pull your shirt off. While it’s over your eyes, you hear padding footsteps coming your way, followed by a body being pressed up against yours. By the time your shirt is totally off, her hands are sliding up your back. This is one seriously forward idol you’re dealing with.

“So here we are. I picked the location. What’s next?” Yeri asks, “I’ve got a naughty thought or two, but maybe you have an idea you want to surprise me with.”

Options for Part 2:

1. No surprise, nothing fancy. Just get naked and get started. 2. There must be a shower in this building if it contains gyms. Ask her to take you there and you can get her wet all over. 3. (Picked:) Yeri was literally going to hire you for this, and “naughty thoughts” sound fun. Ask her what those are all about.

~~~~~

“Naughty thoughts huh? Why don’t you tell me about those?”

Yeri grimaces and looks off to the side. “Uh...”

“Uh…” You look down at her, confused. “What? What.”

“I was, you know.”

You hesitate…

“No! I don’t know! What?!”

“Like, I was expecting you to just rip off my bra or pants and go to town, you know?”

“But you said you have naughty thoughts. Why wouldn’t I ask about those?”

“I don’t know! I was counting on you not asking about them!”

You rub your eyes. You’re about to ask why she would bother bringing up the option if she was going to make such a big deal out of it, but she speaks first.

“I want to get fucked while I’m working out.”

“That’s it?” you ask after a moment of hesitation.

“It’s not all I want to do.”

“Well, care to share with the rest of the class? Or are you too embarrassed about having really normal-sounding kinks?”

Yeri shoves you back and takes a few steps toward the pilates equipment. “Are we doing this or not?”

“I’m all for it.”

She grabs the sides of her bra and with no small amount of difficulty pulls it off over her head. You easily forget about the awkwardness as you watch her breasts squeeze out slowly and eventually drop the rest of the way.

Yeri's breasts live up to the hype. When she beckons you over to her (in the same way you would beckon for a dog, annoyingly), you realize your opportunity to touch them for yourself is at hand. Literally.

You grab her by the shoulders first though, spinning her around so she's facing the pilates bench and the mirror. You wrap your arms under hers to feel her tits from behind. They're more than your hands can take in a single grasp. But you're not in this for speed. You bend down to kiss her neck, which gets a satisfied growl from her.

"Bite me," she says. It's not a softly spoken statement, and it's right next to your ear thanks to your positioning, so you're stunned for about half a second.

You do as she demands, taking a small bit of her neck between your teeth and sucking. If she wants hickeys you won't argue.

You're rewarded with a smack on the top of the head. Confused with her behavior again, you pull away.

"I didn't say nibble. I said bite."

"Oh. Uh, sure."

"Like, draw blood."

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah! Like, if you're gonna bite, it's gotta be hard! Really get your canine teeth in there, right? Just fucking give it to me."

You stare at her for a moment. "Let's, um, start with the exercise thing first, yeah?"

Seeming suddenly confident again, Yeri hops onto the pilates bench and flips herself upside-down using the bars. She stretches herself out into a position you imagine can't be easy to hold for long. "Sure, if you can reach me."

You squint at her for just a second. She's switching between embarrassment and confidence so fast you can't figure out what's really going on. But at least right now, she seems fine.

Standing up on the bench, you find you’re at nearly the perfect height to put your face between her legs. And that’s exactly what you’re going to do. You grab the waistband of her leggings and pull them down to her knees. Underneath, absolutely nothing. No underwear, no hair. Just a completely bare pussy and smooth ass tensed with the effort of holding her body weight in an upward arch.

It’s a tight fit getting your head between her legs, given that she doesn’t have a lot of space to spread them apart. The reward is worth the trouble.

You flatten your tongue against her pussy to give it a full, long lick. She responds with a long, breathy moan. And since she gives you no reason to stop, you do it again, and again, and again. Each time, Yeri shivers just a little bit, making it obvious how much she’s enjoying herself.

Hands on either side of her hips, just touching for the sake of touching and not holding her up, you close your eyes and focus on your work. Not work. You’re not getting paid for this. Stop thinking about that.

She’s got a mellow taste as far as you can tell. It’s got the tang you would expect, but it’s maybe a little musky. You don’t try to distract yourself, but trying to figure out how Yeri tastes the same way men’s cologne smells is really messing with your head.

It’s when her hips suddenly drop away from your hands that you realize she has been holding herself in place for several minutes. She’s breathing heavily and she doesn’t fall only because her leggings are caught on your shoulders. She doesn’t seem seriously exhausted or anything though. Maybe this was just the first rep.

“Tired?” you ask anyway.

“I also want to try pet play.”

You stare down at Yeri. You’re sure you heard the words that came out of her mouth correctly, but they weren’t the answer to your question. “So… hang on. Back up. What?”

“You know. Meow.” Holding herself up with one hand, she uses the other to make the classic neko paw.

You tilt your head and rub your temples. “Alright. Um, I think we should probably work out what’s really happening here. You gave me a lot to work with.”

Yeri hoists her legs back over your head and stands on the bench again, kicking her leggings off the rest of the way. “Yeah! What do you think? Those are my ideas!”

“They are varied.”

“Is that good or bad?” Suddenly Yeri looks embarrassed again.

“No! They’re good! I’m not here to kink shame you. I don’t know if I’m really into all of that, or if they can all be incorporated into a single session, but I’m totally up for some of it.”

Session? This isn’t an appointment, and this isn’t my job! you think, furiously. You’re suddenly worried if every minor reference to work or professionalism is going to sound like it’s connected to sex from now on.

Yeri smirks, “Oh, okay. That’s fair. Anything sounds good! What do you want to do… with me?” She punctuates the last two words by grabbing her tits and winking at you.

Deadline for this vote is 12/20 at 12:00 UTC! No guarantees on how fast Part 4 will come out, but work should slow down soon, and it’s not like I’ll be going anywhere for a holiday because of this virus, so you can probably expect Part 5 and maybe also another short over that weekend! Options for Part 3: 1. (Picked:) Workout sex sounds like it will wear you out, but getting sweaty with a partner has never been a problem before! 2. Pet play? What was that meow about?! Maybe you want her to play a cat, or you can convince her she'd be something else? 3. Oh fuck, right. Yeri likes vampires. Bite her. [Warning for blood stuff, though not super gory or anything Red Flavor joke]

~~~~~

“Tell me more about this workout sex,” you say. To avoid letting the mood die down any more than your confusion already might have you inch forward, one hand on Yeri’s breast, the other wrapping around the small of her back. You pull her in closer toward you and put your mouth to hers.

Yeri hums into your kiss. She takes a moment to enjoy it before she pulls back. “It’s exactly what it sounds like, like what I said.” She comes in for a couple more small kisses and continues, “I work out. While I do that, you fuck me.”

You bring her back into the kiss, keeping it chaste for now. At least, as chaste as you can get while you’re more than half naked and she’s completely naked and you’re discussing exactly how you’re about to bang.

“I can start over there and bench while I suck your cock.”

You moan your agreement into another kiss.

“Then I can do my squats on it while you take your turn benching.”

You moan your “Huh?” into another kiss.

“Then you can do your squats by pile driving me into the floor.”

So it seems she plans on you working out too.

“So? Are we going to do this?” Yeri holds you back.

You take a deep breath. Whatever higher power you believe in has brought you this far. You’re not going to let it down.

“Why don’t you get down there and find out?”

Yeri practically jumps across the room. She grabs a couple of dumbbells and immediately gets into bench press position.

When you walk over, ditching the rest of your clothes on the way, Yeri looks up at you and smirks. She wiggles the weights around and, in a sing-song voice, says, “Dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb.”

You stand above her, unsure how to respond.

“Get it? Dumb Dumb? Dumbbells? The weights?”

“Uh, no?”

“What?! That’s like, a classic!”

“Is that one of yours?”

“Yes! You haven’t heard it?!”

“You just called your own song a classic.”

Yeri rolls her eyes. “Not classic as in old. As in-- I’m about to suck your dick, so laugh at my jokes.”

That makes you actually snort back a laugh. “Okay, I guess I get it now.”

She smiles and hangs her head off the edge of the bench. You make your way next to her head and she licks her lip at the sight of your dick at nearly her eye level.

“Just don’t go too hard okay? I’ve got a gag reflex.”

You crouch just enough so that your dick touches her lips, which she happily opens. The moment her tongue reaches out and touches you, you feel a bit weak in the knees. How you’re going to keep this up and also do real exercise, you have no idea.

Yeri cautiously starts pumping her weights up and down at her sides. You take the same slow pace with moving back and forth. After the mention of her gag reflex you don’t dare thrust for real, keeping it to an inch or so at a time. Yeri more than makes up for the lack of depth with her tongue though, twirling and curling it around randomly.

Thankfully there’s a bar across the bench that you can lean on to prevent a total collapse. Just beneath your head, you watch as Yeri’s chest and arms flex to push the weights up, then relax and spread out as she lowers them. The steady motion, the subtle definition of her body, and her heavy tits are a sight to behold, and so behold it all you do.

Yeri’s tongue sweeps across the bottom of your dick, and you feel a burning desire to be deeper inside of her. You decide to try your luck and push forward a bit farther. She doesn’t so much as lose the tempo in her lifting, so you go farther. Too much more and you’re sure you’re going to hurt her, but her legs are spread to either side of the bench, leaving something else open that you could probably get much deeper in.

You’re suddenly jolted back to awareness by the sound of weights slamming to the floor. Yeri grabs your hips and holds you tightly in place. You think she may have forgotten about the exercise after all with how intensely she’s sucking. But then, she pushes you away and gasps for air.

“That’s one set down!” She grins up at you and strokes your dick.

“Isn’t it bad etiquette to drop your weights like that?”

“Personal, private gym, remember? My gym, my rules.”

“Well not to break your rules, but I want to try something else in your next set.”

“Why? Didn’t you like that?”

“Oh I did, but that’s just the problem. You’ve got me worked up now, and I’m having a hard time holding back.”

Yeri gulps, and you see her whole body shiver. “I-I mean, I’ll try.” She picks her dumbbells off the floor and lays back again, sticking her tongue out and opening her mouth wide.

“I didn’t mean deepthroat! I just meant I wanted to fuck your pussy.”

You aren’t sure if Yeri’s sigh is one of disappointment or relief. “Ah, I see. Well by all means go for it!”

She scoots herself down the bench so her head isn’t hanging off and starts her next set. You walk around her slowly, just taking in the sight, admiring her again. She’s clearly used to the exercise, because her skin is just barely starting to show a few dots of sweat.

Once you’re between her legs, it’s a simple matter to crouch again just a little to maintain the correct height. You couldn’t see it from your previous angle, but Yeri is soaking wet. It’s only been a few minutes really, but already there’s a puddle underneath her. You mentally give yourself a pat on the back for contributing to that.

Yeri’s entrance is tight, but pushing into her is smooth sailing with how much natural lube she’s producing. Every time she lifts her weights, her muscles tense and she subtly clenches down around you. You might have thought this was a weird concept to begin with, but you’re definitely on board now. Not quite in time with her lifts, you thrust in and out. Looking down, you can see her toes curling. She’s clearly putting in a lot of effort not to squirm out of position.

“Seems like you’re having fun, huh?”

You don’t get an answer. You’re slightly annoyed that she seems to be ignoring you, but you realize she’s probably trying to count reps. But it would be fun if you could make her lose track…

You put your hands on either side of the bench and get a good grip, preparing to turn into a fucking machine.

Unfortunately, you’re the one who gets a surprise when Yeri drops her weights again. Her head shoots up to yours for a needy, open-mouthed kiss. Her damp body presses against yours.

“This is...” she says between the moments she has her tongue in your mouth, “so much better… than trying it… with a dildo!”

You try to push Yeri away so you can get a word in, but her arms and legs are both clamped around you. You give in and lower her down so she’s on her back again, putting you right where you need to be so you can roll your hips.

Yeri squeals and her grip on you gets even tighter. “More!” she shouts when she pulls away for a half a second.

You strain to get your hands under her arms and break out of her grasp. Her nails rake across your back quite painfully as you do, but you manage to pin her arms to her sides. She glares up at you, biting her lip and giggling.

“More?” she asks this time.

“Don’t you have one more set to do? Isn’t three sets a thing?”

Yeri scowls. “I changed my mind. It’s your turn to bench. I need to do my squats right now.”

You roll your hips again. You watch, amused, as Yeri’s fingers clench at the air over and over again. You’re a little worried about what might happen when you let her go, considering she seemed to have some kind of blood fetish. But then again, she might just not be trying all that hard to get away. She’s the one with a fairly athletic career and a workout plan after all.

Even so, you can’t help but tease her with another roll of your hips. You have difficulty finding your own words with how good she feels, tight around your cock. “It was your idea to get fucked while you worked out. I’m just holding you to your word, you know.”

A sly smile curls across Yeri’s face, though it trembles when you grind into her again. “I’m keeping my word! I normally only do two sets at a time!”

“I’m not so sure I believe that.” Her legs let up a bit, so you use the leeway to get in a short thrust.

“You calling me a liar?”

“Of course not. Why would I do that?”

“Because if you don’t call me a liar you get to pick what hole I fuck you with while you’re benching.”

She makes a valid argument.

Deadline for this vote will be 12/26 at 6:00 UTC (just in case some of you will be too busy the day before with holiday stuff) Options for Part 4: 1. No complaints from you if she continues with her pussy! 2. Then again, you’ve got a thing for anal, and she’s offering. 3. She could give you a blowjob. It seems like she wants the practice. 4. (Picked:) But also… Yeri is the first person in one of these stories with big enough boobs for a titfuck.

~~~~~

“Well since you’re definitely done with your sets, and since you’re not lying, you wouldn’t mind titfucking me?”

A few quiet moments go by. Yeri puts a hand on her chin, looking down between your bodies, then to her boobs, then at the dumbells on either side of her. She reaches down to grab the weights again.

“There’s lube in my bag. Grab that first.”

You smile and pull out of her pussy, which makes both of you take a sharp breath at the same time. “Doing more benches huh?”

“Well obviously. This is workout sex. I can’t give you a tit job while I’m squatting, so the best solution is for me to focus extra hard on my arms - which is definitely more than I normally do - so you can stand over me.”

Her bluff is pretty obvious, but it’s amusing, and you’re still getting what you asked for so you’re not going to push your luck by calling her out. This is something you’ve been trying to convince Yerin to try for a while, but she’s brushed it off every time. So if you aren’t getting a boob job here, you’re not sure when or even if you’ll have the chance again.

The lube you find in Yeri’s bag is vanilla scented. While you take a moment to enjoy the smell, Yeri lies down and starts another set with her six kilo weights.

You move to stand over her chest and enjoy watching her muscles work again from a different angle. This time you watch her breasts in particular, putting a hand down to lightly cup one and brush your thumb over her nipple. Much like before, Yeri’s focus on her workout is uncanny. You can’t get her to break, so you decide to help yourself.

You pour a generous amount of the lube into Yeri’s cleavage, smearing it all over. Your dick is still wet from her pussy, but this stuff will certainly last longer. The pleasant smell and the sight of her wet breasts turn on your instincts again. You lower yourself until your dick is resting on her, and you squeeze her tits together.

It’s not nearly as tight as anything else you’ve experienced today, of course, but it’s no less of an incredible feeling. When you start to move back and forth is when you realize how heavenly it is, even if it involves some extra effort. As you slide through Yeri’s cleavage, you notice the tiniest glance down from her. Is she losing her focus?

You smirk and reposition your hands a bit so you can casually rub her nipples between your fingers. Again, a small glance down. This time, it’s accompanied by the corners of her lips moving up.

“If you’re enjoying this already, wait until your hands are free to help out.”

“Ssshut up.”

Her arms tremble for a second. It would make sense if she’s getting distracted by the fact that she’s working out. But she hasn’t done that much, has she? Six kilos isn’t too crazy for an athletic idol like herself. You take a look over to the side again when her arms come all the way up.

There’s a mostly worn off line right before the six. She’s lifting nearly triple what you thought she was. Suddenly, you find yourself concerned with where they might land if she drops them again, given where your feet are, and you resolve to not distract her anymore.

That doesn’t mean you’re going to stop the titfucking of course.

You shift your feet back a little and have to lean forward, but you manage to get back into rhythm quickly. You slide in time with her lifting. The next time you look at her face, Yeri’s eyes are screwed shut and she’s biting her lip.

You aren’t able to contain a groan, and her eyes snap open and look into yours. She gives you a smile and after one last pump of her weights, she tosses them (thankfully) to the sides. Her hands clasp over the top of yours. Her breaths are labored, but she speaks through them just fine.

“I’m helping now. What am I waiting for?”

You pull one of your hands from under hers. It takes you no time at all to find her clit. Her knees come up to trap your arm there, as if you needed the additional encouragement. You circle it slowly with your fingers.

“Oh, I see now.” Yeri’s voice is quiet and her mouth quivers. She looks down at your cockhead poking out of her cleavage with hunger in her eyes.

You take your other hand away from hers, but only so you can put it back on top, where you guide her into kneading her breasts around your dick. She quickly picks up on the hint and squeezes down. She even takes the initiative and lifts her head to try to lick you as you thrust.

Unfortunately, she can’t quite reach, but you’re not going to let her effort go to waste. You hover your now free hand next to her pouty lips. You quickly go back in your mind to when she was very interested in biting, but you’ve already sealed your fate, and her mouth is wrapped around two of your fingers.

Something about watching her dutifully crushing her tits against your thrusting dick and sweetly sucking on your fingers with her eyes closed sets you off. You barely have the time to say, “I’m cumming.”

In that moment, Yeri’s eyes reopen and catch yours. She makes no move to change what she’s doing. So with one last thrust, you groan in ecstasy and orgasm.

Your cum first hits the bottom of her chin, then lands on her neck, then seeps out onto her chest, directed into different directions by her collarbone. She hardly reacts where you can see it, keeping her eyes locked onto yours and wrapping her tongue around your middle finger.

On the other hand, literally, her legs wrap around your arm and roughly pull your hand until it’s fully connected with her pussy. Your brain is still in a mid-orgasm haze, but it’s easy enough to realize what you’re supposed to be doing. You oblige, dipping two fingers inside her. That gets a happy hum out of Yeri, which you feel directly vibrating up your hand.

After you blink the stars out of your eyes, you look down and see that Yeri is scooping at your cum to bring it to her mouth. She sucks it in without letting go of your fingers. You would protest at the awkwardness of feeling your semen being swirled around your knuckles, but the greediness she displays is way too sexually charged for you to care about things like that anymore.

Eventually, she vacuums all of it down and off your hand, swallows, and releases you. She gives you an expectant look, eyebrows raised and mischievous smile plastered across her face.

You continue to finger her, but her eyes don’t move from yours. “Um. Wow, damn,” you say, not sure what else she wants.

Yeri’s eyebrows go higher. “You’re not going to mention…”

“Your amazing body? Or how hot it is when you’re sweating like that?”

Her smile turns into an absolute shit-eating grin. “Protein shakes are good after exercise!”

You bite your cheek to keep from… laughing? An exasperated sigh? You’re not sure, with how terrible and cliché of a line that would have been.

“Yup. Definitely something like that.”

Yeri giggles and pushes you back so she can sit up. She takes the hand you were fingering her with now. “So you still up for more? Joy says Yerin says you can usually go more than once.”

She starts to lick her juices off of your hand. You can’t help but admire her weird pervertedness.

Deadline for the Part 5 vote will be 1/1 at 12:00 UTC (because I am guaranteed not to work that day!) Options for Part 5: 1. Of course you’re still up for more, as long as you don’t have to deal with more of this workout bullshit! 2. (Picked:) You’ll do more, but only after she does the squats she said she was going to do. She doesn’t get to half ass her workout just because you’re here! 3. Nope. You’re out of here. See you around, sloot! 4. Maybe. But you'd actually like to maybe get to know Yeri a little first? You kind of jumped into this real fast.

~~~~~

“What? You’re already done with your workout? You’ve barely done anything though.”

Yeri gives you a dirty look. “I’d normally do more, duh. But you’re here right now.”

“Yeah, to fuck you while you work out.”

“Yeah, which you did.”

“Did you cum?”

“No, but that’s fine. I got what I wanted.”

“Do you want to?”

Yeri looks over at the squatting rack, chewing her lip. “I wouldn’t mind, but it’s hard to make me cum. And it would be dangerous while I’ve got something really heavy on top of me.”

“Challenge accepted then.”

She raises her eyebrows at you.

“You go hard on the rest of your workout and I’ll do the best I can to make you cum once you’re done.”

Yeri doesn’t say anything. She walks over to the rack though, and leans back against it. She looks you up and down, straight-faced.

“If you don’t cum, it’s not like you’re not getting your money’s worth.”

She still says nothing, her eyes landing on your dick.

“Because you’re not paying me for this. Because I’m not a prostitute…” You shrug, unsure of how to proceed when you’re being stared down naked.

“Let’s do it. I want to see if you can do it.”

“If I can? Well, what is it that makes it so hard to make you cum?”

Yeri bends over to grab some weights to put on the bar. “I dunno. If I knew, I wouldn’t have the problem.”

“You nervous?”

“It’s not like I haven’t had sex before.”

“Uncomfortable maybe?”

“No, I’m fine. A bit restless, but who isn’t?” Yeri stands under the bar, adjusting herself so her back is comfortably in the curve.

“I know a couple other people like that. We’ll do a little bit of experimenting. Maybe it will work, maybe it won’t.”

“Good enough for me.”

“Good enough huh?”

“Yup.”

“Sounds unenthusiastic. You sure you’re up for it?”

“I asked you for another round, remember? I just don’t want you getting your hopes up.”

You laugh. “Everything I could have hoped for is standing in front of me nude and about to do squats.”

Yeri chuckles and picks the bar off the rack. “Greasy.”

You just smile and watch as she does the first squat. It looks effortless. You don’t know enough about form to judge it, but it seems like it’s been practiced for quite some time. It’s smooth on the way down, and smooth on the way up. Graceful, even.

The grace of the action is slightly undercut by the fact that she is of course still naked, a little sweaty, and her chest is completely covered in lube. But that makes it no less attractive to you.

As she does more, you walk around, getting a good view from every angle. The mirror wall ensures that if she wants to, she can see you as well. But she seems focused again, staring herself in the eye.

Her breaths are labored. She inhales deeply as she goes down and exhales loudly as she comes up. Her skin starts to glisten all over as her effort comes out in her sweat. You reach out to touch her, but you suddenly get an idea and step back. Shortly after, she sets the bar back on the rack with a heavy sigh.

“What’s up? You can touch. It’s encouraged.”

You go back to her purse and pull out a water bottle you had seen earlier. “I’m going to hold off on touching you for a minute. I like this. I’m changing the plan. I’m not touching you until I can see how much effort you’re putting into this.”

A smirk creeps up one side of Yeri’s mouth. “You’re on,” she says. She catches the water bottle when you toss to her and takes a swig from it. Then she puts another five kilogram weight on either side of the bar.

As she gets into the next set, you move next to her and sit down on the floor. “Look at these hard-working legs,” you say. She didn’t respond the last time you talked to her, but she can still hear you… you assume. This is mostly just you saying your thoughts out loud, but you hope she’s paying attention.

“Taking on all of this to maintain the look of a perfect idol, but healthy. Damn, I would kill for your dedication.”

Glancing at the mirror you see another tiny smile on Yeri’s face.

“What would you say the ratio is? Your effort and practice versus your natural talent. What amount of each is it that makes your performances look so easy? Because watching you right now it has to be at least sixty percent or more in favor of the exercise.”

You reach out again like you’re going to touch her as she comes down, but you keep your hand just far enough away.

“And not just what you do, but the way this body of yours looks. If I wasn’t watching you sculpt it right now, I’d have figured it was sculpted by some Greek god. Belongs in a fucking art museum if you ask me.”

Your hand hovers extremely close to Yeri’s leg. You can actually feel the heat of her body, way above what you’d normally feel coming off a person. It’s like she’s a human furnace. And the amount of sweat on her is very noticeable now.

The bar catches on the rack again and Yeri bends over to grab the water again, drinking a few more swallows of it this time. “Museum my ass,” she says through a breathy laugh.

“That’s what I’m saying! One more set, right?”

Yeri stretches her arms, prompting you to wonder why she didn’t stretch before the workout. Your narrator says you shouldn’t think about it because it’s really hard to remember all of those kinds of details, and that’s not the point of word porn. But yes, you should be careful and stretch before working out.

“That’s right. I hope you’re ready to go again because I’m seriously wanting more.”

“Absolutely,” you say. You stand up and run a hand over Yeri’s butt and up her back, pressing roughly. “I don’t think I’ve even gone soft once since I had this scene in front of me.”

Yeri groans and rolls her shoulders as you touch them. “I can stop now, you know. I could go for the fucking right now.”

“I know, I know. But you’re not done yet. And I can’t believe how much I’m enjoying watching this.” You take your hand away and look Yeri in the eye via the mirror wall. “Hell, I might just have to convince you to do more.”

Without another word, Yeri gets underneath the bar again and picks it up. “If you’re so eager to see more, then…” She cuts herself off and dips into another squat.

Your eyes trace her from the floor up as you circle around. Yeri's thighs tremble from the weight. Her ass spreads from the movement. Her chest heaves from her breaths. Her lips part in just a way that you consider telling her to drop the bar so you can kiss her, but you're committed to watching her finish.

Rather than tempt yourself with the sight of her lips, you look up at her eyes. But you quickly regret it, as she looks back at yours. Her normally bright, mischievous eyes turn into black holes that you can't escape from. You feel a drop of your own sweat curl its way down your cheek.

“Holy shit, Yeri. I can’t wait to fuck you again, but at the same time, seeing this is too incredible to stop.”

Yeri is the one who breaks the gaze first, scrunching up her eyes. You look down again to see the trembling in her legs has gotten pretty bad.

"This is more weight than you usually use, huh?"

"Y-yup."

"How many left?"

"Three."

"Five."

"What the fu--"

You interrupt her with a kiss, since she's fully upright. The heat of the fire inside her drafts into your mouth. You don't want to stop, but you manage to pull away. "Just do five."

She looks up at you, her mouth gaped open. "Kay,"

As Yeri dips down, you walk around her again. Behind her, you put your hands out over her shoulders to spot her when she's back at your height. "Four more."

Yeri glances at you in the mirror, but quickly shuts her eyes again and goes down. You follow to make sure she's safe, but keep your hands off the bar.

Back at the top again, you continue the countdown. "Three."

Yeri doesn’t open her eyes this time. You just follow her down again, lightly resting your wrists against her shoulders to make sure she knows you're there. Her whole body is quivering as she rises again.

She gasps loudly when she's upright. "Keep breathing," you remind her, "Only two more."

"Shit," is the one word she gets out before she goes again. There's a moment when she reaches the bottom that she hesitates, and you fear she's going to drop the bar. You brace your arms, but Yeri clearly isn't one to disappoint. She rises again, shaking like a leaf.

You feel a little bad when she's all the way up again, as she is clearly already beyond what she's comfortable with. Even so, you're confident you can keep her from hurting herself, so you lean forward next to her ear and say very softly, "Just one more."

It seems she's got nothing more to say, because she immediately goes down for the last squat. You nearly lose your balance following her this time.

She squirms as she starts to lift herself up for the last time. The sweat practically pours off of her.

Her form must be a little off too, because the bar knocks against one of the middle rungs on the rack. She jerks back. A struggled croak comes out of her throat, and you can see her face screwed up in the mirror, with the tiniest bit of black eyeliner running down one side of her face. You're just about to grab the bar and push it up the rest of the way, but you barely have the time to make the move when she huffs and practically jumps up the rest of the way.

The bar lands on the rack safely, but Yeri's knees buckle and she starts to collapse forward. Thankfully with how close you are, you're able to catch her almost immediately, and avoid smacking your head on the bar too.

Her skin, even through her sweat, is practically hot enough to burn your hands. You help her lay down on her back and grab her water bottle, opening it and holding it ready.

Despite your concern, you're feeling extremely turned on. Her beautiful chest rises and falls rapidly. Her whole body absolutely shines. And on her face, closed eyes and a satisfied smile.

You put the water bottle to her lips and tilt so just a little trickles into her mouth. "Stay hydrated," you say simply. Yeri complies and gulps down the stream of water.

When you take away the half empty bottle, Yeri groans and uses her arm to roll herself onto her stomach. "Fuck me already."

That's a request you're happy to fulfill. You position yourself over her and spread her ass apart with your thumbs. Your dick is still covered in lube from earlier, and she's pretty slippery right now too…

A pleased hum from Yeri is the last encouragement you need, and you slide into her ass much more easily than you would have expected. Yeri's moan is muffled by the floor.

"So I keep going, eh?"

"Mmmfffmm."

You lift her pelvis up a bit so you can get a hand underneath and on her clit like before. You rub slowly, to match the slow thrusting into her ass. She doesn't move at all, but her moans keep coming. Much like earlier, her pussy is absolutely drenching your hand, so you assume you're doing something right.

Now that you're in full contact with her body, you can feel her heat again. It's hot enough to be uncomfortable, but considering what you just convinced her to do, you don't think your comfort is worth stopping for.

"How do you feel?" you ask.

Yeri lifts her head enough to respond coherently. "My legs fucking hurt."

You chuckle. "Yeah, sorry about that. You just looked so good doing that. Do you need some time to cool do--"

"Don't you dare get off of me."

"Woah! Noted. Nice."

Yeri rests her head on her arms. "The burn is worth it."

"Good to hear. I enjoyed it too."

"Oh? You didn't do much though. After this," she takes an extra deep breath. Whether it's because of something you did or her exhaustion you're not sure. "After this, you can do an actual workout you know. I think it's only fair if you take a turn, right?"

Ummm… is it fair?

Literally only even putting this in because this part was starting to get too long and I need to try to keep them short for my own sanity LOL *dies inside*. So the deadline for Part 6 will be Jan. 4th at 12:00 UTC. Options for Part 6: 1. (Picked:) Of course! You’ve been looking forward to your chance this whole time. You’ll happily get your lift on! Save you a trip to your gym! 2. Sure, if you have to. But maybe it’s something you can discuss when you’re not in the middle of this? 3. You don’t want to work out. That wasn’t exactly what you had planned when you came in, but you’re not going to say that now. 4. No way. You’re here to fuck Yeri. If you’re going to work out, you’ll do it on your own time!

~~~~~

In the time it takes you to pull almost all of the way out and slide all the way back in, you’ve made a decision. “Yeah, fuck it. Maybe you can give me a solid tip or two. I could probably use the exercise anyway.”

“I don’t know. Feels like you’re fine to me, but I’m happy to help if I can.”

“Aw, how flattering. And to think I considered saying no.”

Yeri fidgets a little bit. “That would have been okay. Either way, I don’t want you to stop what you’re doing now.”

“That’s good. Because I don’t want to.”

“But don’t forget. It’s okay if I don’t cum.”

“You know, that’s alright. I’m just going to make this as pleasurable for you as I can while I have you underneath me. Let’s not worry about the orgasm right now.”

Yeri holds her head up long enough to look at you in the mirror and say, “Oh my, you caught on. Thank you. But about the orgasm… I do like the idea of your cum in my ass.”

You’re not going to bother arguing against that. If that’s what she wants, you’re happy to provide.

You give Yeri’s ass a few more long, slow, languid thrusts. All the while, you keep a steady pace on her clit.

For as tired as she must be, Yeri doesn’t leave all of the work to you. She grinds her hips in tiny circles and clenches down on her pelvis. She must be doing some kind of exercise for that too, because you know for a fact both Eunha and Yerin have never been able to do that quite as effectively as Yeri is now (though you do feel a sense of deja vu and the name Seungyeon briefly pops into your head). You have to pause each time she does it, and you’re not sure if you’re annoyed by it or if it’s the most amazing thing you’ve ever experienced.

At the end of an extra long stroke, Yeri reaches behind herself and lays her wrist on the back of your neck, pulling you down so your mouth is next to her ear. You take it as a hint, so you nibble and kiss around the outer edge.

Yeri giggles in a low tone. Her fingers stretch their way into your hair and lightly scratch back and forth.

The sensual tone of the moment overtakes your sensibilities for just a second. Just long enough for you to back up and drive in with one powerful thrust. You hear Yeri’s breath catch in her mouth and you bite down where her shoulder meets her neck, just above and behind her collarbone.

It wasn’t your intention to bite especially hard, but you were a little caught up. Yeri’s caught breath turns into the very first bit of a scream before it catches once again. Her fingers spasm on the back of your head, and every other part of her body that’s in contact with yours tenses up.

You also don’t intend to stop. You don’t quite pound into her the same way, but you do move faster than you were moving before. You change your angle to be more vertical, and you manage to get a couple of fingers around Yeri’s clit.

“Oh god,” Yeri manages to say.

Her ass clenches down on your cock painfully hard. Her whole body freezes up, and the hand on your head feels like it’s stuck. You’re just able to keep thrusting. It seems that’s exactly what you needed to do, too.

Yeri screams out incoherently. You’re a little thankful that she’s facing away from you and into the floor, because you feel like you might have lost your eardrums otherwise. Even as it is, your ears hurt.

Her hand falls away and pats the floor. Her voice is much weaker now. “I came… I came,” she mutters.

You cock an eyebrow up. It wasn’t as hard to make that happen as you were led to believe, especially for anal sex. Fully hilted in, you grind your hips around. “That was easy.”

“Shut uuup,” her voice sounds hoarse. You look to the side to make sure the water didn’t get knocked over at any point, because you get the feeling she’ll need it. “It doesn’t usually happen… like that.”

“What do you think was different?”

“I don’t know… the clit stuff maybe?”

“You don’t get your clit played with often?”

“No, I… I said shut up! Can you… let me up?”

You hold back a laugh and do as she asks. Untangling yourself is slightly difficult with her dead weight on your arm, but you help out by pulling her over onto her back and handing her the water bottle.

Looking down at your hand now that it’s free, you see it’s completely soaked. You must not have noticed how wet she was getting with all of the heat and being distracted by the intense fucking. And right where she was just lying down, there’s practically a lake. You’re not sure where her sweat ends and where her sexual fluid begins (but you have a pretty good idea).

Yeri drags herself up into a sitting position against the squatting rack and finishes off the rest of the water. “Well now my legs and my ass are going to be sore for days. Good thing I’m only MCing stuff I can sit down for.”

“Are you going to be okay with that? After that scream, your voice is a little bit…”

“Yeah, I’ll just tell them I’ve got a little cold. They’ll buy anything.”

The two of you smirk at each other.

“God damn though, that was good. Is it weird to say thanks for that?”

You chuckle. “Nah. And you’re welcome. Will you need more water?”

“I’m dehydrated as fuck now, so yes. But there’s a vending machine right down the hall. But this was enough to hold me over for a minute. What are you looking to do?”

Yeri gestures around the room. There’s quite a bit of equipment you could try out.

This will be another short vote period! Voting will close on 1/6 at 12:00 UTC. Options for Part 7: 1. The bench is free. That’s pretty basic stuff, and probably where you’re most confident in showing off. 2. She’s got a leg press machine so you can destroy your legs like Yeri just did. Actually that would have been very convenient earlier… 3. (Picked:) Try your hand (and the rest of your body) at pilates! You don’t know what to do, but you’re sure to get a laugh! 4. You lied! You’re out of here! HA!

~~~~~

You point up at the pilates setup and Yeri laughs.

"Yeah! This will be great! You're totally the graceful type."

You're not sure if that's sarcasm you detect in her voice, but you shrug it off. Her laugh is what you wanted to hear and you're already successful in that.

"Oh of course," you say with a very false confidence, "You know they call me the pilates master? Because they do."

You step over and lift yourself onto the device. You grab a hold of it the same way Yeri did before. At least, you’re close. You're not exactly sure.

Very carefully, you step your way up the bars and find yourself horizontal. Then you go further and completely lose your sense of direction, though you think you might be upside down. The blood rushes to your ears but you still hear the sound of Yeri giggling across the room.

“You weren’t kidding. That’s a super advanced move.”

“Yup. I invented it,” you say, pretending to be sure of yourself despite the disorientation, “I call this move the Reverse Crab with Lion Splash. It’s really good for your kneecaps.”

Looking up, or down, or sideways, one of those directions, you see an upside down Yeri covering her mouth to attempt to hold in her snickering.

You complete your sort-of backflip, so that you’re facing the padded table below you, your knees caught on the middle bar. You can feel your hamstrings, back, and shoulders straining to keep from falling right then and there.

Yeri’s barely contained laughter bursts out. You didn’t think it was that funny, but she’s an odd person, so you’re not surprised. Until, that is, she says, “You’re just freeballing up there with those gymnastics huh?”

It hits you that the sight of your lubed up and mostly softened dick flopping around as you awkwardly twist your way around the bars probably is fairly humorous. And a bit embarrassing to match. You suddenly feel a little bit self-conscious. And yet, you manage one last retort, “Uh yeah. Haven’t you heard of penilates?”

Yeri snorts and pats the floor. “You’re funny, you know that? I like it. Get back down here and I’ll show you how to do some basics if you really want to do pilates.”

Well, as long as she claims you’re funny.

You maneuver yourself out of the bars and drop off the rack. “Alright coach! What do I do?”

“First, come over here and lay down on your stomach. Put your hands to the sides like you’re going to do a pushup, but like, right under your shoulders.”

The lightly padded floor makes the action relatively comfortable. Yeri rolls on her hips so that she’s able to put a hand on the small of your back. A strangely comfortable chill runs up your spine at the feeling.

“Now push yourself up with your arms, but make sure your legs stay attached to the floor.”

You easily follow her instructions.

“Good!” she says cheerfully. She lifts your chin up, putting more of a stretching sensation on your chest. “Make sure you’re looking straight forward. This is called a Swan. It’s not a big deal, but it helps you with stretching out your core.”

“Yeah, I feel that for sure. I was expecting something a little more intense.”

“Most people are. Pilates is pretty easy though. Mostly.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the hard stuff?”

“Calm it down! We’ll get there. Probably not today though.”

“Aw, why not?”

“Because I’d like to do this with you and I can barely feel my legs.”

“Wow, I’m that good of a fuck?”

Yeri runs her hand over your butt. “Yup. It was all you and your sexual prowess and had nothing to do with anything else that happened since we got here.”

The two of you share a chuckle.

“So how long do I hold this?”

“About now would be good. For you, I’d say… do that for about thirty seconds at a time. And three times of course.”

“What if I normally only do two sets?” you ask as you lay yourself back on the floor.

She lightly smacks your ass. “Hey! What did we agree on about not calling me a liar!”

“Oh, sorry. I would never call you out for lying.”

“That’s… pretty much right. Now, up up!”

Once in your second Swan, you have a thought. “Hey, old reference at this point, but I’ve got a question about what you were talking about in The Lounge.”

“Shoot.”

“I asked why the three of you don’t just have sex with each other, and Seulgi said it was about wanting different things and being uncomfortable with it. So uh, have you tried to bite them before?”

“Oh god. Yeah, I tried that once or twice. Real good reactions out of all four of them.”

“Four?”

“Yup. Well, five. All five of us have tried having sex with each other. Still do sometimes, if we’re feeling desperate.”

“But you’re not into it?”

“Basically. Seulgi is in mad love with Wendy but she’s scared to admit it. Wendy is obsessed with Joy, but Joy is trying to convince herself that she’s straight. Irene and Wendy are both only interested in soft, nice sex, but they both want to be penetrated and can’t seem to get their act together with a double ended dildo. Seulgi wants to be a domme, but ever since Wendy was nearly murdered, she has to go easy on her hips. I’m totally into being dommed, but Seulgi is a wimp and when I talk back to her she gets all nervous and shit.”

You assume thirty seconds have passed, so you lower yourself to the floor again. You knew you would get some kind of explanation when you asked, but you weren’t expecting so much information. You think you may have already forgotten some of it.

Yeri keeps rambling, “Irene used to fuck Seulgi all the time, but during their sub unit promotions they got really busy with each other and I think they just kind of lost the mood, you know? Plus, now that Seulgi wants to explore her rougher side, Irene’s just not into it. Joy used to be the perfect fuck buddy for everybody because she was so good at accommodating everyone and enjoying it. Oh actually, she even did the pet play thing with me once! No clue what we were thinking though. I tried to be a puppy, but then I made a joke about Haetnim and that totally shut the whole thing down. And I’m pretty sure that it isn’t a healthy thing for Wendy, because of how hard she’s crushing for a quote unquote straight girl. But yeah, that’s the point with Joy. She’s claiming that she’s totally straight and started dating Cheungae, but I don’t know how long that’s going to-- Oh no, stay on your stomach.”

You had started to roll over after finishing your third Swan, but Yeri holds you back by your shoulder. “Next I’ll have you do a T.”

“A T? Like the letter T?”

“Exactly.”

“Is it like this?” You stick your arms straight out to either side and point your feet straight down, keeping your face on the floor.

Yeri laughs. “Basically, yes, but now pick your head, chest, arms, and legs up as far as you can, looking forward. Hold that for five seconds, five times.”

This move in particular is actually a bit harder, as it sounds like the only part of you meant to stay on the floor is your stomach.

“Sorry by the way. I rant on like a gossipy bitch sometimes. Was that too much information?”

The voting deadline for Part 8 will be 1/13 at 12:00 UTC! Options for Part 8 [IMPORTANT]: 1. “Well, it was maybe a bit much.” You can’t blame her for oversharing, but it’s no big deal. She seemed extremely eager to bring all that up, after all. 2. (Picked:) “Nope! In fact, tell me more!” Should you know all of this? No. Do you want to know more? Absolutely yes. 3. “Yeah, you really shouldn’t say so much.” It was pretty rude of her to say all of that stuff about her members’ personal relationships. Your question was much simpler than that.

~~~~~

"Nope! In fact, tell me more!"

Yeri chuckles. "Just as long as you don't spill any of what I tell you, alright? We could both get in some real trouble."

That's how secrets always work, right? You can keep the secrets and the non-secrets separate and never tell anyone anything that would be a problem, right? Yeah, no problem.

Right?

"Well, I don't think Joy's relationship is going to last much longer. She is trying really hard, but the strain is going to get to her. And one of our members is absolutely going to fuck her soon and restore the balance."

You snort, forcing you to put your hands and legs down. "Restore the balance? What is this, an epic fantasy novel?"

"You know what I mean! She's the perfect fucker or fuck toy for every member, and in the past, she's loved that. She told us so herself. But we've been together for years, so we know when she's not alright. About a month after she started dating Cheungae, she said she couldn't have sex anymore. And it's just been downhill from there. They're fucking each other, but she has said more than once that she misses fucking other people too."

"The things people do for the sake of relationships."

"Yeah, it's cute, but…" Yeri grips your ass cheek as you come out of your last T. "You know how freeing it is to not be in one."

You sigh, thinking for a second about something SinB told you. "Yup… but hey, has Joy talked to this guy about an open relationship? Or like some other kind of arrangement? Just taking a wild guess here, but I'd imagine any guy would die for a threesome with Joy and you."

"I offered. I heard from Wheein that Cheungae's got a dick the size of the DMZ, so I'm all for giving that a spin. Joy rejected the idea though."

"Damn, why?"

"Well Cheungae isn't the problem. Joy is. I don't know if it's selfishness or if she is just trying way too hard to make a normal relationship work, but she doesn't want to share, herself or her man."

"That sucks. I'm sorry."

"Ah, it's okay. Like I said, I don't think it'll last much longer. And as far as I'm concerned, I've got myself a solid replacement!"

"I'm not a commodity!"

"Sure, ho, sure." Yeri giggles and slaps your butt.

You reach between her legs and push a couple of fingers into her pussy. "Sounds like you're trying to get me mad."

"Why would I do that? You… degenerate sack of shit who can't even fuck the right hole?"

Suddenly, you hear the sound of Yeri's phone going off. It's Wendy's voice. "Are you ready for this? Zimzalabim!"

Yeri scowls. "Hurry up and pound my twat into the core of the planet."

You hold in a laugh and push Yeri onto her back and climb on top of her. Your sweat mixes with hers as you press your bodies together. She’s not burning hot like before, but she’s still pretty warm, and there’s certainly fire in her eyes as she pulls you to her lips--

“Are you ready for this? Zimzalabim!”

Yeri’s tongue invades your mouth forcefully. Your practiced cock finds its way into her with no trouble at all. There’s no hesitation from either one of you. She pulls you into her, and you--

“Are you ready for this? Zimzala-- Yeri! I’m calling you on the important line! Why aren’t you picking up?”

That doesn’t sound like a ringtone anymore. You pull away from Yeri’s kiss, but she suddenly sticks a finger against your cheek. “Don’t you dare stop. I don’t want to feel my legs.”

“Didn’t that already happen?” you ask, with no small amount of snark.

“Yeri? Are you still? Oh god. I’m sorry--” Static crackles through the speaker for a moment. “This must be really awkward for you.”

“Oh don’t mind me,” you say, “I’m just doing my job, apparently.” You back up just a bit and start thrusting hard and fast. Yeri’s breath gets pushed out of her with the force of the first one, but she quickly adjusts and matches your rhythm.

There’s a pause from Wendy. “O-okay. That’s good. I mean, wait! No! Yeri! Irene is on her way to pick you up to take you to the studio!”

“God- dammit- Wendy-” Yeri is having difficulty speaking, only managing to get a word or so out for each time you slam into her. “He’s so- fucking- good- Tell- her- to- wait!”

You could swear that you can hear Wendy blushing through the phone. “We can’t! You’ve got to record…”

“He doesn’t- care- about- spoilers!”

“I mean, I kind of do… How did the call start if we’re over here?”

“I had to install an app on her phone to automatically answer the call-- I mean, you’ve got to hurry and pack up! Irene is going to be there any second!”

Yeri whines in staccato, and is about to say something but is interrupted. And you’re suddenly forced to stop fucking her by a voice that chills your spine like being lost in a blizzard.

“Wendy’s right, Yeri. We’ve got to go.”

Looking to the side, you and Yeri both see Irene standing in the wide-open doorway. The lack of expression on her face is unnerving in a way you can’t accurately describe.

“Come on Irene, please! We can just record later! Just give us five more minutes!”

You feel like you could comment on the fact that Yeri sounds like she’s complaining to her mother to stay in bed, but Irene lifts her eyebrows a few millimeters and your motivation to make a joke is suddenly gone.

“Uuugh!” Yeri reluctantly, slowly, pushes you to the side.

Well, seems like that’s over with. But maybe you can convince Irene to let it not be over with… Or not. Hard to say.

The voting deadline for Part 9 will be 1/17 at 12:00 UTC! Options for Part 9: 1. Irene doesn’t scare you! Tell her you’re not done with Yeri yet! SM can wait for her! 2. Okay, Irene scares you. You should apologize and see yourself out of here. 3. (Picked:) Eh. No big deal. Yeri said that Irene is basically just the same as the other RV members.

~~~~~

You lean back against one of the vertical bars of the squat rack. The metal is very cold, making you flinch. But you play it cooler than the metal, propping your chin up on your wrist by putting your elbow on your knee.

“Hey Irene,” you say casually, as if you weren’t naked in front of one of the most powerful idols in the business, “How’s your morning so far?”

“It’s fine.” Irene is just as casual as you are. She seems more interested in watching as Yeri crawls around the gym on her arms, gathering clothes.

“So you have a new comeback soon, huh?”

Her eyes seem unfocused for a moment, as if she’d just spaced out.

“Oh. Yes,” she eventually says.

Irene’s not especially talkative, you surmise.

“Well, if the recording isn’t too urgent, you can hang out with us for a bit longer. I bet Yeri would be willing to share, assuming you were also wanting in on this situation.”

“Oooh, hey yeah. You want some Irene?” Yeri asks. A cheesy grin spreads across her face. “I got him all warmed up for you.”

Irene gestures softly at Yeri’s bra in the middle of the floor. Yeri rolls her eyes and reaches out for it.

“I appreciate the thought.”

You shrug and move to grab your own clothes. Putting them on feels gross considering the sweat and cum all over you. You resolve to take a shower as soon as you get home. “It was worth a shot.”

Yeri gets her sports bra back on and lets out a long sigh. “You sure though? My voice is a little fucked up right now. We could say I’m sick and that you’re just taking care of me like a good leader.”

“Yes. Let’s go.”

A woman of few words, this one.

With your legs fully functional, you’re able to finish dressing much quicker than Yeri, and approach Irene, giving her a standard bow. “Good to meet you, by the way. Sounds like you’ve already heard about me.”

“From Joy, yes.” Irene bows back to you. “Is it okay if I get your contact from Wendy?”

You blink in shock. That was easy enough. “Yeah, sure. Sounds good to me.”

Irene nods, expression still inscrutable. “Do you prefer calls or texts?”

“Either works for me.”

Yeri pops in. “He’s not actually a prostitute you know.”

For the first time, Irene makes a face you can decipher. It seems to be a bit of minor, subtle shock. “Oh, so this…” She points back and forth between you and Yeri. “Was for…”

You finish for her after she pauses. “The hell of it, yeah.”

“I paid you in salmon bagels,” Yeri says.

“Well that and a free pilates lesson, sure.”

The tiniest smile curls up the corners of Irene’s lips. “How fun.”

It gets silent again, besides the sounds of Yeri huffing as she works to get her pants back on. You nod quietly, unsure of how to respond.

Thankfully, Irene looks you in the eye and motions for you to come closer, which you do. While Yeri is occupied with pulling her hoodie back over her head, Irene leans in close to you and whispers into your ear, so quietly it takes you a moment to process what she’s saying.

“I heard you earlier. Stay away from Joy.”

You back off again, a little struck by what sounded like a very calm threat.

“I’m parked downstairs Yeri. No more than five minutes, okay?”

“Oh come on, you tell me that now?!”

Without another word, Irene turns and walks back out the door. You’re still a little stunned, watching the back of her head, when she looks back over her shoulder and gives you a coy smile and a wink. Your head swims with questions.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been staring at the now-closed door, but you’re snapped out of it by a loud smack on the back of your jeans, just below your ass. Yeri’s next to you, keeping herself upright with her hand on the wall. “A little help here?”

You look down and see her legs are shaking like leaves. “Oh shit, yeah, I’ve got you.”

Scooping your arm under hers, you support as much of her weight as you can on your shoulder. It feels like she’s mostly able to stay on her feet on her own, but she definitely wobbles a bit.

“You going to be okay?” you ask once you’re in the hallway.

“Oh totally! I’ll be able to walk... mostly normally once we’ve reached the studio. But you know how it is. Squat until your legs give out and then immediately get ass-fucked to an unexpected orgasm, and that’ll give you a few minutes worth of trouble.”

“That’s not actually a sensation I’m familiar with.”

“Who knows? Maybe Seulgi will get her domme act together and then you will be!”

You’re not so sure how you feel about that.

“Hey by the way. Irene was asking about getting your number, right? Can I get it now? Faster than getting it from Wendy since she’ll probably be out all day.”

This will be the last vote for Yexercise! *Wipes away tears* The deadline for this vote will be 1/23 at 12:00 UTC, at which point we’ll be talking on the Discord server about what’s next! Options for Part 10: 1. (Picked:) Of course she can have your number right away! You had fun, she had fun, you should have more fun! 2. Don’t let this crazy have your contact info. In fact, you should let Wendy know to give her a fake number…

~~~~~

You don’t even need to say anything. You pull out your phone, open your contacts, and hand it to Yeri. She puts her info in and sends herself some random gibberish in a text.

“Awesome!” she says, slipping the phone back into your pocket expertly as you make your way down the hall together, “No requests for sleazy pictures though. Can’t have anything getting out if something happens to your phone. Or mine.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t dream-- well, I would dream of it. But I won’t ask.”

Yeri giggles. “Ah, hey. The water’s right there. Wanna stop for just a second?”

At the machine, Yeri swipes her key card just like she did at the door to the gym. It only contains what you recognize as the cheap water brands, unsweetened tea, some dried fruit snacks in plain packaging, and a variety of protein bars. There’s no indicator for payment anywhere though.

“Perks of the personal, private gym?” you ask.

“Perks of the personal, private gym,” Yeri says.

A couple of water bottles are pushed out at arm’s height. Yeri hands one to you, takes the other for herself, and you both gulp down about half before continuing.

“I’ve got to say, I was expecting this to be one of those expensive waters. Blessed by monks, imported from Egypt, shit like that.”

Yeri smirks. “You know what they say. SM water tastes like water. No reason to spend wastefully.”

She finishes her water off, and you get to the stairwell. You think that three flights of stairs might be a little difficult at the moment, but fortunately there’s an elevator nearby you hadn’t noticed when you were following Yeri up earlier.

As you’re gradually taken to the ground floor, Yeri nudges your side. “If I ever share something juicy with you by the way, I expect at least five words in response. None of that ‘LOL’ followed by silence stuff.”

You laugh. “What if I can’t think of anything to say?”

“You can just bullshit an answer. No biggie.”

“What if my life is threatened because I know your gossip?”

“Your life, huh?”

“Well, not specifically. I just assume Irene will break every bone in my body. I guess I can live through that, right?”

“God, she better not be doing that again.”

You stare at Yeri. “Doing that again?”

“Making people uneasy. Point is, don’t worry about her. She’s just got a… uh, an unusual way of communicating, we’ll say.”

“Something like that, sure.”

Yeri puts her free hand on your chest. “She’ll warm up to you, I promise. I’ll put in a good word for you! As long as you do me one more favor.”

Anything to get a good word in to Irene so you don’t end up murdered. “What’s that?”

“Just give me one more, real good kiss in front of her. Right up next to the car window!”

You wrap your arms around her waist and shift Yeri so she’s in front of you. “Like this?” you ask, and half-lift her to your height. The moment your lips touch, you feel the elevator jerk to a stop and the door opens.

“Maybe a bit more than that, but I like where your head’s at.”

“It could be between your legs,” you say, mimicking Yeri’s seductive tone from earlier at The Lounge.

“Don’t tempt me like that!”

All smiles, you help Yeri feebly get outside. You spot a car with dark windows, where you can barely see Irene’s silhouette inside. It also happens to be the only car on the street, and Yeri easily confirms that it’s the correct one.

Yeri is thankfully able to stand on her own once you get to the passenger side. You open the door for her, but before she gets in, you spin her to face you and dive in for a real kiss. She moans and her arms wrap up under your shirt instantly, so you respond by sliding one hand down the back of her yoga pants. It should be right where Irene can see your fingers outlined through the fabric.

Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be a reaction from Irene. You wonder what it will take to crack her neutral act.

“Mmm, even more than that next time, okay?” Yeri pulls away from you and turns to get into the car.

“Of course. I might charge you one extra water bottle next time though.”

“Uh-oh. I’ll be sure to save up for it.”

You laugh together before she sits down. You lean over to pop your head in after her. “See you next time then. And good to finally meet you Irene!”

Irene looks up at you from the book she was reading. “Hm? Oh yes, a pleasure.”

Yeri catches your gaze again. You can see the moment of sudden, unbridled thrill in her eyes, so you wait for her to say…“No Irene! The pleasure was mine!”

Her hand shoots up, and you meet it for an excellent, but questionably deserved high-five. Irene sighs heavily.

You laugh and back up again. “Nice one, Yeri. See you later.”

“See ya, ho!” Yeri shouts before closing the door. As is the case with Yerin, you’re pretty sure you’re stuck with nicknames like that from now on.

You wave the car goodbye and turn back around to make your way back home. You could use a shower.

THE END

~~~~~

Post-story notes:

Hey everybody! Thank you again for joining me for one of these crazy vote stories. I’ve really appreciated the participation, and I think we’ll be getting even more next time!

We’ll be discussing the subject and characters for the next story on the Discord. Suggestions so far include (forgive me if the capitalization is incorrect on these)… Dreamcatcher, WJSN, Mamamoo, Momoland, CLC, Oh My Girl, Lovelyz, more Gfriend, and Fromis_9! But nothing’s set in stone yet! Fill out the form in #announcements if you have even more suggestions to add to the hat.

As for when the next story starts, I’m going to say probably the first week of February. As you may have seen me mention, I’ll be writing some shorts just to spill some of my creative juices. On top of that, I quit my day job! Because I’m starting school! So exciting and nerve wracking! Given how stupidly stressful my day job was, I’m hoping I should be able to pump out stories a little more frequently moving forward.

The storyline unlocks from Yexercise are going to look pretty obvious: [Yeri - Workout buddy] [Yeri - Gossip girl]

And just like with Movie Night, here are some fun facts about unpicked options! At least one of you read these last time, and made a very astute observation about Sowon, so you’ll be getting your wish for that fairly soon.

Part 1. Picking Wendy or Seulgi would have (obviously) resulted in a different name for the story altogether! The names I had in mind weren’t finalized, but the top contenders were “Snow Day” for Wendy and “Dom-Flavored Pringles” for Seulgi.

Part 3. Yeri had two animals in mind for the pet-play: She could have been a cat or a cow. The option to be a puppy would have also been there, but she would have been skeptical about it given her history trying that with Joy.

Part 4. At first, I wasn’t planning on there being any anal in Part 6, but because the vote for Part 4 was SO close, I went back and changed my plans, just so y’all could get what you wanted. :P

Part 5. Again, just mentioning how close the vote was. I was very interested to see that for most of the voting period, the options to keep Yeri working out and to stop and just talk to her were neck and neck. I’m still feeling out what the best balance is between fluff and smut, and you guys are surprisingly wholesome!

Part 7. If you had chosen the leg workout, you’d have been too exhausted to help Yeri out of the gym, resulting in Irene rescheduling the recording session. She’d have stayed to hang out, and that would have blocked off the [Yeri - Gossip girl] storyline (which does have some smaller impact on the relationship with Irene moving forward as well, btw).

#red velvet smut #kpop smut #yeri #male reader insert

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mssirey · 3 years

Text

More SuperReign Knights AU!! (A follow up to this)

The rains had mercifully held off for the summer games, but were not so gracious as their duel—called a draw the day before to keep them from taking the whole fairgrounds down around them—resumed in the training yard. There was no ceremonial garb to be concerned with and after the sun had been on their skin all morning, the rain was almost welcome.

The singing of their blades was momentarily drowned out by calls to clear out—lessons abandoned around them—and the disgruntled shouts of curses at any god that might listen as hungover knights stumbled for shelter. But all it took was one glance while their swords locked to know that Kara had no interest in postponing the conclusion of their duel.

The challenge that always managed to define them—both the tie that connected them and the bounds of what they were—reared its head in the fires she saw in Kara’s eyes, just as it had shaped her words the night before. Sam could still feel the imprint of Kara’s weight in her lap; the way her knees caught against the outsides of Sam’s legs; the way she relaxed back; the smell of her hair—it refused to leave her, but she couldn’t find a hint of its meaning, or its mirror, in Kara.

The other knight wasn’t as graceful as Sam knew her to be capable of—her parries sloppy, her timing off by a hair—but Sam was too sluggish to press that advantage, the night’s ale lingering enough in her system to dull her reflexes. But they fell into step, following the familiar dance between them, the ring of their blades clashing joined by the patter of rain on soft soil.

As the skies grew darker and the rain came down in sheets, they were left without witnesses—no one to judge a victor—and still they continued. Sam tried to steer Kara towards a slick stretch of mud, swinging in a wide arch—allowed herself to be predictable, easily avoidable if Kara stepped correctly—and then a turn of her grip would allow her to follow with more aggression, push the other knight back, direct her to where her footing would be compromised.

Kara was sharper than Sam gave her credit, already noting the shift in the terrain—a lesson both J’onn and Alex had been sure to drill into her and the others in her class—and she knew to disengage, to take stock of their surroundings. “You’re going to have to do better than that,” she called as she put a few paces between them, competing with the shower to make her voice carry across the yard.

Just as Sam felt the water running down her neck and beneath her leathers, Kara’s short hair was getting flattened, falling over her eyes. A quick swipe pushed it back in a messy sweep and still more rain coaxed it forward again. They were both blinking, adjusting to the rivulets that streaked their faces, each testing their grips with a few easy swings, knowing that it was only a matter of time before it was hard to keep a handle on their blades.

The rain was hard enough to distort the image of Kara, and perhaps that was for the best as her tunic clung to her abs beneath the line of where her leather chest guard cut off. It had never been quite so distracting and Sam couldn’t bring herself to examine the interest her eyes showed.

“You can forfeit here,” she offered, a laugh forced from her lungs to cover how the words had teetered on her tongue, nearly tumbling from her lips to die in the gathering mud. “I wouldn’t hold it against you.

“Never!”

It was always the same. Kara never chose to back down, and it had been thrilling to have someone who wanted to cross blades, who took every chance to stand opposite her despite the names she had been given—Black Reign the one that had stuck, shortened eventually to Reign. Most young knights feared her, would bow out of duels or take early falls to avoid truly testing her, but not Kara.

Kara. The golden knight of high noble birth, who could have easily chosen to be a knight in name only, but who instead stood fiercely behind the codes she upheld. The woman who was bright in spirit and wit; who could turn a room with both action and song; who was greeted by everyone, but also took the time to greet in turn—even those whose voices were lost in the crowd or those who struggled to get anyone to meet their eye.

Kara was the one who sought Sam, relentless and insistent, and through her Sam found it easier to hold her blade proudly. She enjoyed the rivalry they shared, but somewhere along the line it had become something different… or perhaps she wanted it to and instead it remained just that. She couldn’t decipher it, couldn’t understand it.

And so Sam leaned into what she knew. She strode forward to close the distance between them, boots already feeling the suction of fresh mud, careful to watch the turn of Kara’s grip and the shift of her weight, to check which foot was planted.

“Come on, Sam, don’t hold back!”

Only Kara could demand something so boldly and genuinely want it. It was foolish, brash, but also welcome.

Sam let the fire caged in her chest bleed into her arm, dropped her grip to the one hand and swung, hard enough to crack bone through armor. She trusted Kara to know how to handle it, her heart rising with the shriek of her blade dragging down the length of Kara’s as the angle directed her momentum away from the other knight.

Kara shouldered her to the side, tried to unbalance her, to find an opening after her aggression, but her own footing made quick maneuvers tricky. They danced apart, righted their stances and then circled, each watchful for any slip.

Sam’s blade was longer and heavier, and she knew the bones in Kara’s hands and forearms would feel the sting of each clash, until numbness reached her shoulder. If she could keep Kara at a distance, keep her on the defensive, it would only be a matter of time before she couldn’t hold her arm up.

But Kara knew that as well as she did, knew to not let her control the pace. So to provoke Sam meant she was studying, gauging how steady her blade was in the rain and how fast her swing. She needed to know the windows of opportunity, and Sam couldn’t let her learn them.

Sam charged, put her body behind her blade and caught the twist of Kara’s grin--a brief glimpse as she was sidestepped--the revelry at her full effort setting her heart out of rhythm. She couldn’t understand what joy Kara got out of it, but that smile made her knees unsteady.

They continued, going even with what Kara redirected and what she avoided, each stumbling and slipping more and more as the earth soaked up the rain, until Kara found the opening she was looking for.

Sam got too close and the pommel of Kara’s sword came down on her hand, wrenched her blade from her, and if she had been steady enough to get away, Sam would have lost. But favor turned, and Sam swept her feet out from under her, gratified by the wet impact as Kara’s back hit the ground.

Sam kicked her sword from her grip and took advantage of the knight’s struggle for breath, getting over her and pinning her arms.

“You look good on your back.”

Sam said it in the spirit of competition, but the hitch of Kara’s breath and the flutter of her lashes brought the possible meaning into glaring focus, the realization painted in broad strokes across her skin. A splatter of mud touched Kara’s cheek and Sam released her wrist to gently brush it away, her gloved thumb lingering after, hovering, drawn by a yet unnamed force towards parted lips.

Sam’s hand sank into the mud by Kara’s head, braced as she felt the pull of her own heart, the gravity that called her towards the other knight. The rain added the barest gleam to Kara’s lips, enough to keep her gaze trained and narrowed in.

She watched as Kara’s lips moved, formed around words she didn’t speak, tried to guess what she might say—if it would be a remark about how she should move from where she straddled the other knight. She hoped that wasn't what Kara wanted, but the peek of tongue she witnessed kept her from truly considering the consequences.

Sam leaned down, only to pause, her breath heavy as it shuddered from her lungs. Her cheeks burned hot, the rain on her neck not enough to cool her. She didn’t catch Kara’s fingers as they slipped into her leathers, at the opening for her arms, but the tug overcame the last of her hesitation, and she let herself fall into the cushion of those lips, to taste the heat that scorched its way through her skull and licked down her spine.

There was no reason to be found. No question to be answered. Sam knew how to follow instinct, how to let her body move for her, and so when her mind sought haven in the comfort of the other woman’s presence, her tongue pressed for what it wanted, drank deeply as Kara met her with just as much desire, a groan spilling into her mouth.

A boom of thunder drew them apart, laughing and breathy.

“This isn’t defeat,” Kara panted, and then her face pinched into that endearingly regretful expression she got when she tripped over her own tongue, her ears bright red.

Sam exhaled a laugh. “It never is with you,” she noted with a shake of her head.

#knights au #superreign #kara danvers #sam arias #mssirey #my writing

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

I really hate you

— Shinsou knows he shouldn’t trust villains. Especially villains who make his mind spin and stomach twist in joy. But there’s something about you that keeps him coming back for more.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: pro hero!shinsou hitoshi x villain fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, a little bit of juicy plot, pro hero!au, reader is a villain, betrayal, biting, marking, collaring, cursing, hate sex, rooftop sex, body liquids, angst

word count: 8,180

a/n: i like deception :) being a chem TA is pretty fun, except when im in lab for 8 am until 4 pm. listen,,, I also really liked this prompt I made last night because the one I had before wasn’t spicy enough for me anymore. I hope you enjoy though! like comment and share for the algorithm (jk been watching too many tikytokys)

kinktober day 8 main kink: collaring

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When the sun sets, and the moon is high in the sky, and the chill of the bitter cold winds raise ceaseless goosebumps on your arms, and the only people who are up are drunken businessmen and tiresome students, it is a common belief that this is when the freaks come out.

The freaks come out to play at night.

You are one of these freaks.

Heh.

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Shinsou nodded at his friends as he walked through the doors of the agency he worked at. Despite the power of his quirks ability, he was an underground hero (unless the ultra-rare occasion where they needed his quirk in the limelight); he was stationed within a large, well-known agency and was one of the founding heroes there at that. His ability to be hidden from the bright lights of the world were both easy and challenging; most of the world knew him as the kid from UA’s Sports Festival that went toe to toe with nearing number one Pro-Hero Deku. It both irked and embarrassed him when that event was brought up; on the one hand, it was true! He had nearly beat Midoriya during that final stage. Yet, on the other hand, their memories seemed to recall some crazy quirk-fueled fistfight where Midoriya had broken his entire body in the duration of their fight.

‘No,’ he often found himself responding back to the gentlemen and ladies who would awe at his school-day adventures, ‘there was a fistfight, but Midoriya handled it without using his quirk except to snap him out of my quirk.’

They always looked embarrassingly horrified by their faulty memory when they pulled the clip up on Youtube, their bows quick in apology before they made off.

But people recognizing him from that was rare as it gets, fortunately even with the large agency stapled to his alias, he was quite good at his job—a shadow in the night, an urgent whisper to the villain freaks who roamed the night.

“Ah, Shinsou-chan!” Kaminari pouted, his body draping over his purple-haired friend as Shinsou moved to change from his regular clothes into the black triple-weave kevlar of his hero suit. He had once sported a black cotton-like costume akin to Aizawa, but after many, many gun shootings and stabbing incidents, he figured he needed something sturdier.

“What is it?” he asked, rising up from his bent position so that Kaminari couldn’t take advantage of his slouched form.

Shinsou’s tired, purple eyes met the exhausted pair of Kaminari.

“Today was so hard,” Kaminari sighed, his lip still put into the stupid pout, and he slumped onto the bench behind Shinsou. His feet were spread before him, fingers drumming onto his directional equipment. “Since it’s winter, the night comes sooo much earlier now. I swear some weirdos really appear out of the woodworks when the night comes! Like just before I was going to make my way back here, I swear I saw Aizawa-sensei hanging out on the rooftops like some super-secret ninja, right?”

Shinsou frowned. He knew his mentor turned friend was actually on vacation at the moment in Hawaii. Something he thought, at the very least, was long overdue.

“Aizawa is in Hawaii right now,” Shinsou quickly spoke, his hands buckling the belt on his pants, before moving to lace up his boots.

“Oh fuck, I told Todoroki he was in Seoul,” Kaminari cursed, the palm of his hand hitting his forehead.

“Good going, who knows what weird message or gift he’ll end up sending to Aizawa now,” Shinsou couldn’t help the small smirk from spreading on his face at that note.

After being accepted into the Hero Course over in UA, Shinsou couldn’t help but be initially disappointed when he was placed within Class 1-B — Class 2-B at that point — simply because his mentor was with Class 1-A. The initial disappointment didn’t last very long when he got to know the rest of Class 2-B better, and he saw that while 2-A possessed raw talent, 2-B were more well-defined with a much bigger take-no-shit mentality that he appreciated more. That and 2-A were being strangled by a new villain of the month far too often, and Shinsou just wanted nothing more than to graduate from high school.

Still, his lack of enrollment in Class 2-A didn’t mean that he didn’t see the rambunctious, nearly intolerable group of twenty in class 2-A. As a matter of fact, he thought he saw them a bit more than he’d like. Aizawa was his mentor, so he understood seeing him around, but for some reason, 2-A was never too far away. As soon as Shinsou was admitted into the Hero Course and the two hero classes had weekly meals together, which meant that to him, just the slightest bit, 2-A felt like an unwanted, annoying, ugly stepchild.

So no, Shinsou could not tell you 2-A’s inside class jokes, but he knew a lot more about the forty other hero students than he’d ever like to admit.

And through his knowledge, he knew that the ever so powerful Todoroki Shouto was an idiot, probably a bigger one than Kaminari.

“I hate that you call Aizawa-sensei just…” Kaminari trailed off, a disgusted shiver running down his spine as if it sickened him to remove the single formality.

“Aizawa,” Shinsou said once more.

“Stop.”

“Aizawa.”

“Hitoshi!”

“Aizawa.”

“PLEASE!”

“Shouta.”

Kaminari hit the floor, his chest heaving with fake, bitter sobs while Shinsou couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of his over-dramatic friend on the ground. He had to admit, Shouta felt weird on his tongue too.

“Stop making a huge deal about how Aizawa and I are closer than you are,” Shinsou half-joked half-told-the-truth.

He was more than well aware of his mentor’s former students trying to become even closer to their beloved homeroom teacher. All doing it in their own ways, all relatively unsuccessful because unknown to them (but not Shinsou), Aizawa already loved them all thoroughly, not that he’ll ever tell them.

“I DIDN’T MEAN TO SHAVE OFF MITTENS FUR!”

Oh yeah, that had lost a lot of love points for Kaminari.

Sighing softly, Shinsou placed his newly replaced coiled capturing weapon around his shoulders, and his artificial vocal cords mask onto his chest until he was off on patrol.

“Why’d you think you saw Aizawa?” he asked again, trying to finish the conversation so that he could leave. It felt like it was going to be a long night if Kaminari confirmed where his thoughts were already trailing.

“Hm?” Kaminari finally looked up from his puddle of tears on the floor, tears streaking all over his face, small charges of electricity humming off it. He blinked once, twice, his eyes shooting to the ceiling as if the answer was there before his fist came down to hit his open palm in a flash of realization. “Oh, I remember! There was this person, obviously not Aizawa-sensei, standing by the edge of a building watching everyone below. Hair whipping in the wind and his capturing weapon fluttering around them!”

Just as Shinsou thought.

“Where did you see her?”

“Her?!”

“Where, Kaminari?”

“Uh… well, I guess by Gramps convenience store. Don’t tell me this is some super sexy megafan of yours! Wait… do tell me, or… no, I’ll get jealous if you’re having rooftop sex with — eh?! where are you going?! Hitoshi?!”

“My shift started two minutes ago,” Shinsou explained, one of his hands lifting in a wave as he exited the locker room, his heart hammering quickly, knowing just who he was going to need to track down tonight.

…

It was dark.

Shinsou’s eyes squinting as he hopped from one rooftop onto the other, his capturing device assisting him in clearing the dooming crevice. He wasn’t exactly the most physically threatening, and unfortunately, that also meant he wasn’t exactly the greatest at parkour type movements, although he was getting better. Maybe had he started to ask for earlier shifts, where he would be out when the sun was, he could get better faster.

It was tricky with only the moonlight to guide him, but that’s what he could get at the moment.

As he scuffled through the gravel rooftop of one of the abandoned buildings, Shinsou found himself squinting at the figure in the distance. The one perched near what Kaminari oh so fondly refers to as Gramps convenience store.

He studied the form of the picture still person, noticing if it wasn’t for the slight wind through your hair and twisting capturing weapon around your neck, he would think you’re a statue. But he knows better now, he’s known better for quite some time now.

“What’re you doing out here, y/l/n?” Shinsou found himself speaking the moment he stepped behind you, hands shoving into his pant pockets.

You didn’t move, nor did you respond, your body still completely still while peering down at the empty world fascinated on who knows what.

“Y/l—”

“How can I help ya, Mindjack-senpai?” you interrupted him, your gaze still not removed from the world below the building. “I hear it’s supposed to be a busy night tonight.”

Shinsou paused, his brows scrunching at your words.

It was plain to see to Heroes that you were a villain, you did what you wanted when you wanted, whatever the price, but if there was one thing Shinsou had learned with this rather weird cat and mouse game the two of you played time and time again was that you didn’t lie.

What was happening?

“A busy night?” Shinsou questioned, his quirk still unactivated, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to Brainwash an answer out of you anyways. “Where at?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Mr. Hero?” you teased slowly, and Shinsou had to deny the way that the way your head finally turned to lock eyes with his made his stomach clench.

It meant nothing.

Nothing at all.

“You know what happens when you slight me,” Shinsou couldn’t help but warn, the bandages on his neck rising under his command. But your eyes blinked slowly, lips spreading into a lazy, cunning smile.

“And you know what happens when you underestimate me,” you returned, fingers gliding against his old weapon — yes, old weapon. Just two months ago, just before your last arrest, you had viciously stolen it from him, your foot crushing his vocal cords while you managed to pry the weapon from his broken fingers. “Anyways, Mindjack-senpai, it’s a bit unethical of you, a hero, to be threatening me in such a way! I’m just a poor girl waiting for the love of my life to show up.”

“And have they?”

You blink, a soft giggle escaping your lips as you nod, “I got him right where I want him.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Shinsou snapped despite the lick of warmth against his chest and cheeks. “I’ll have you arrested again.”

Now, this has you turning from the edge of the building, you sit on the ledge of the building, fingers supporting your head as you stare at him without fear. Shinsou really fucking hated how fast you riled him up.

“Arrested? But Mr. Mindjack-senpai, didn’t you know?” you ask, the taunt evident in your voice, the twinkle in your eye devastatingly bright. “I’m a changed woman. I’m what you call a hero now. You wouldn’t arrest an innocent heroine, could you?”

“You’re hardly innocent,” Shinsou responded back smoothly and deftly, not at all yet entirely impressed by you. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He blamed his deep impressions of you on the stupid black and purple attire you wore.

“Well, you know as well as I do that I just got out, but I feel like except what happened two days ago, I’ve really changed,” you emptily promise, pushing off the ledge, sauntering closer to Shinsou until he felt the tip of your nose brush against his. “I’ll make sure to think about you whenever… bad feelings come up.”

He prays you don’t see the scarlet flush on his face.

You’re already back at the ledge when he blinks, and he watches you raise two fingers to your temple in a mock salute as you wink at him.

“You didn’t hear it from me, but two blocks east, seven blocks south from the heart of Tokyo is where you’ll find trouble,” you inform him, dropping the salute as you turn to run.

But Shinsou wants his damn weapon back.

“Y/l/n, wait!”

“Yes—?”

You froze at the ledge, your eyes spacing out, and Shinsou sighed, moving to collect his weapon from you until you suddenly dove off the building, a burst of cheerful laughter on your tongue.

“Oh, I forgot to tell ya!” you screamed from the next building over, your fingers threading through the alloy metal cloths. “I got some earbuds just for when you’re around! They make your voice into electrical signals just for me! So guess what?!”

Shinsou didn’t need you to complete that sentence in order for him to realize what you had just gotten your hands onto.

As long as you wore those, his quirk was useless against you.

Despite knowing that a villain held the key to his demise as a hero, he chuckled, running a hand through his short purple hair.

You really were something.

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Shinsou never took himself as an especially suspicious person.

He figured he had days where he was suspicious of some people the correct amount, especially when they had the most painted on emotions he’s ever seen. Some days he was overly trusting and blamed tight smiles on something acute to nerves. Without meaning to brag, he felt like he was healthily suspicious of people, unlike others he knew who wouldn’t dare to interact with anyone new or would spill their darkest secret to anyone who would listen.

But there was something entirely, conspicuously suspicious with how you were behaving.

Winter had long passed, the long winter nights and graveyard shifts of endless freak encounters had worn a hole in his patience and boots. The spring season was beginning to end, and the warm days and nights of summer were setting on his skin.

Six full months of you, the first-ever villain he had fought as a Pro Hero, the first-ever villain to have openly flirted with him and to have him flirt back, being suspiciously… kind.

Every shift of his, he would find you waiting for him on one of the regular rooftops. Every time he would check in with the database to make sure you weren’t wanted for some crime to find that you were innocent. Every time he would feel pissed off because you wore those earbuds that rendered his quirk useless and you somehow mastered the capturing weapon within weeks.

Now Shinsou didn’t pout, he really didn’t, but there were moments where you would appear from behind him, finger swiping down his spine as you effortlessly twirled around him, a stupid sly grin on your face as you held onto the collar of his hero costume.

“Don’t pout, Mindjack-senpai, I’m here now,” you’d purr each and every time.

He loved the dangerous purr to your voice, the way your eyes hooded over, peering at him through your eyelashes, but he knew better. He had to know better. It wasn’t that villains were terrible people per se; he’d learned a lot of villains were just thoroughly sick of being mistreated (and he had wondered what would have happened if he had been denied from UA… would he be one?). He knew that for the most part, you were quite harmless, merely sticking your nose where it didn’t belong, living a life to your personal laws and rules.

It didn’t make you evil, merely dangerous.

But he had a job to do where even if it was justifiable to beat the ever-living shit out of your sister's abuser, nearly murdering him in rage and refusing to calm down when Shinsou had arrived on the scene with the use of his quirk didn't hold up well in court. It had started this long chain of events where you had absolutely hated him for a time as you were forced to stay overnight in a jailhouse. And many horrible days afterward where you performed what Shinsou had thought to be illegal actions only to find that no, they weren’t. As a matter of fact, entirely legal because Japan had yet to update their codes.

Long after he had discovered this, you had returned to actual crime, your physical ability growing by leaps and bounds as he ran after you after catching you doing something dangerously illegal. Shinsou was a proud hero and was incredibly proud of the impact he made as a Pro Hero, but it was clear as day, even to him, that he often let you slip through his fingers. Like a child opening their cupped fingers and wondering why the water had left.

He wasn’t sure what it was about you that made him act this way, but he certainly didn’t wish to find out.

“So what’s on the schedule today, Mindjack-senpai?” you asked, appearing from the shadows of the rooftop, not scaring Shinsou in the slightest as this was always where you greeted him. “Are we saving the Prime Minister today? Stealing — I mean, protecting those stupid bedazzled eggs in the museum? Perhaps solving an unsolvable case?”

“Smooth,” Shinsou snarked, his tired purple eyes piercing through your bright ones that seemed undoubtedly excited. “How many times do I gotta tell you that there aren't that many actual case assignments? Besides, most team-ups happen in the morning when I’m asleep.”

“Being a hero is so boring!”

“You’re not a hero.”

“Am too!” Shinsou snorted, turning on his heel and began walking away, listening to your footsteps running after him to keep up with his long paces as you cried that out.

“No.”

“Yes!”

“No.”

“Yes!”

Shinsou stopped, his eyebrow raised in slight forced annoyance but much more amusement, when you spun in front of him, hand on his chest, cheeks puffing with your heavy breathes.

“Look!”

Tilting his head back, Shinsou grunted when your phone was shoved in his face. “What is this?”

“Hero Commission Regulation Handbook, page fifty-four, Article three, sub-article twenty-three,” you chirped, turning your phone back to yourself so that you may read it correctly. “It states that besides attending hero school like a bunch of nerds, civilians have the option of securing internships with approved Pro Heroes and work side by side with them for six months! Once finishing their internships, said Pro Hero must simply sign my licensing papers and bam, a hero I’ll become.”

“And which sniveling hero did you get to do your dirty work?” Shinsou scoffed, not at all buying the notion that you of all people wanted to become a hero. A vigilante at best, an anti-hero much more realistically, and staying a villain as default.

“You,” you smirked, winking at him before turning on your heel and sauntering off, knowing full well the patterns of his routines.

Shinsou sighed, but he let a familiar smirk fall on his face as he walked after you, enjoying the way you glanced back at him with your wide clear eyes. But that suspicious, gut feeling didn’t leave his core, no matter how sweet and beautiful he found your smile.

“So, Mindjack-senpai, who are we apprehending today?”

“You want me to sign your paper this entire time, and you’ve been addressing me as senpai?” Shinsou commented, his weapon shooting off to a nearby building, snapping straight in his hand when it was ready. “Where are your manners? It’s Mindjack-sensei to you.”

He didn’t wait for your response, choosing to swing off the ledge of the building with no hesitation, but a part of him wished he could have heard the sound of your laugh he only seemed to hear through the streaming, far away air.

…

While usually, Shinsou didn’t have actual cases during his patrols, this job, after all, was much more spontaneous than anything else, today was different.

Today was different altogether, really.

First off, he showed up to work when the sun was still up just to get his meeting intel down in time for him to be out on the scene in time. He had nodded plenty, silently taking in Creati’s information on the drug cartel they wanted to in the next few weeks take down for numerous charges. The creation of dangerous, illegal drugs, prostitution rings, robbery, and murder being the main ones. It was some bigger stuff, so they needed all the evidence they could get.

Shinsou stared at the faces of the more prominent names of the cartel, studying every crook, nanny, and scar on their faces as Creati simply ended with where they focused down onto where their drug creating facilities were at, but still needed confirmation. “They’re pretty difficult to get to without knowing where they are,” Creati admitted, handing him a GPS. “You’ll need this.” He would be the first to start evidence gathering; after all, his old classmates would begin tomorrow.

So he had left, going to the first hideout and finding out it was completely empty. Not a single spec of evidence remaining, not a secret door or trap to get him to where they could be hiding from sight.

So was the next.

And the next.

Something sat weirdly in his stomach as he began walking towards the final one on his list, and he froze when he saw lights shifting and moving from around the building. Quickly, Shinsou hopped to higher grounds, his phone already out, ready to take pictures. He lay low to the rooftop, practically army crawling to get to place to place as he neared the windows on the rooftop, allowing him to peer in onto the building he was scouting to find precisely what he needed.

The entire building was a drug production spot.

His eyes scanned the building floor, singling out ten of the twelve main heads on the cartel, and he smirked. Perfect.

“Whatcha doing here, Mindjack-sensei?” your voice whispered millimeters from his ear, and Shinsou bit his tongue harshly to keep the instinctual scream from ruining his covert operation.

He snapped his head over to you, eyes slightly furious, eyebrows knitted tightly as he looked to see you leaning toward him. You were in a different outfit today, completely black, drowning you out in the night. He blinked; even the capturing weapon he had still been unsuccessful in stealing back from you was pitch black.

“What’re you wearing?”

“Do you like it?” you asked, straightening up and twirling for him as if you were wearing a magnificent dress and not personally created ‘hero’ clothes. “Ah, I hoped you would! Sorry, I had to get rid of the purple. I just felt it made me look too cute, right? I know I can’t have villains falling for me like you had me falling for you!”

Shinsou did not blush, no he didn’t, “shut up.”

“So what are we looking for today?” you asked, pressing down onto the floor beside him. Your arm touching his as pressed your face towards the glass. “Is this a stakeout?”

“Less stakeout, more information gathering,” Shinsou grumbled, typing some needed notes onto a file on his phone. It seemed to him that there was plenty here for the drug making charges. “We’re trying to get their bigger names caught in the action.”

“Oh, I thought heroes just burst in whenever they wanted, that’s what they do in the movies. Plus, you always threaten me with being arrested with no evidence,” you giggle, shifting closer to the glass, smile wide on your face.

“After saying that, say goodbye to me signing off that paper of yours,” he grunted, slipping his phone back into his pocket while you scrunch your nose at him. Shinsou couldn’t help but stare at you as the palms of your hands supported your chin as you hummed some song he couldn’t recognize.

“Ne, Mindjack-sensei, did you get the big boss?” you asked, your finger pressed against the cold glass, and Shinsou frowned, returning his head to the glass.

Right where you were pointing was, in fact, the head of the cartel. He was horrendously scrawny, holding no sense of fear or malice, and Shinsou wondered what his quirk could be that he was in charge of an operation such as this one.

“Oh, his right-hand man came too! All twelve are here!” you cheered quietly as Shinsou took documentation on his phone, and that suspicious rock in his stomach finally made sense at this second.

“Y/l/n?” he asked, head turning toward yours, tired eyes glinting with emotions he didn’t know how to handle.

“Mhm?”

“How did you know there were twelve main members, and how’d they look like?”

Silence.

Shinsou’s lips pulled back into a snarl, his canines glinting as he locked eyes with yours that were wide with shock and disbelief.

“How’d you find me—?”

He watched you lean away from the glass, fingers shooting to your earpieces. And with the inkling of suspicion sprinting through his veins, the purple-haired hero still found that he moved too slow.

BOOM!!!!

He blacked out when his body flew with the explosion.

...

Ringing.

Pain.

Numbness.

Shinsou could only hear ringing in his ears as soot and ashes fell down from the sky, falling on his body, coating his gaping, open mouth as he tried to breathe, trying to calm himself. Was he bleeding? Was he dying? Where was the explosion from? Were you okay?

His eyes blinked heavily, altogether so irregularly that Shinsou couldn’t help but feel he was out of his body when you reappeared in his sight. Your hand pressing to his cheeks sympathetically, eyes truly hurt as you shook your head, hand grabbing into his bloodied pocket to take his phone.

“I’m sorry,” your voice seemingly whispered, just loud enough for him to hear you through the ringing from the explosion. “You weren’t supposed to be here, Mindjack… these are the scumbags that hurt my friends and family. I couldn’t let them live. Plus… I didn't have a choice, they were competition.”

He spluttered, the warm goo of blood and saliva choking out of his mouth as he convulsed on the ground, his eyes watching as you went.

“See you later, hero.”

He tried to yell at you to come back, that you were a coward, a fucking menace that he would destroy the next time he saw you, but his voice failed to work. Nothing was working except his pain receptors, his heart that kept shoving blood into his lungs that he kept spitting up, but he saw flashing white and red lights as unconsciousness sank its jagged teeth into his neck.

An ambulance was here.

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It took four months to recover from the accident.

His hearing had been fucked up. Not even medical quirks had managed to save his hearing entirely. But hey, it did get him the chance for Bakugou Katsuki to come to his room, called him pathetic, and showed off his own hearing aid that he had needed since his quirk had damaged his own hearing. Not to mention that for the past four months, he had been teaching him sign language just in case.

He wasn’t alone, it seemed.

But it was four months, and he had recovered fully.

The hearing aid he required in his left ear still made his ear ache in pain, and he found that he liked it much better shoved in the back of a draw than anything else. But he knew it was dangerous to be a hero without his full hearing. If it hadn’t been for Bakugou’s trial through this all and the help of Hatsume Mei to create a more appropriate hearing aid for heroes, he wasn’t sure if he would still be here — working that is.

But today — or well, night — was a new day, and he was going to push ahead. He could do this, no sweat, no problem.

Well, that was until an all too familiar figure sat perched on a ledge on his usual route, legs swaying in the air as uncontrolled rage bubbled in his chest. It wasn’t entirely your fault, but a large part of Shinsou was embarrassed to have been caught up in all of this because of you. He had trusted you above all else even when his instincts yelled at him not to because he knew what it was like to be painted as a villain, and he had hoped by letting you in more, you would have changed. He thought you had.

But you hadn’t.

Not one bit.

…

You sat at the edge of the building, already having heard the loud crunch of Shinsou’s shoes against the gravel rooftop, but you didn’t turn around. You didn’t know how to face him, how to tell him that you were both sorry that he got caught up in your schemes, but that you weren’t sorry for what you had done. Those bastards had it coming.

“Give me one good reason not to push you off the building,” Shinsou growled, probably much louder than he intended.

Instead of answering, you shrugged.

You hadn’t brought the earbuds that would keep you from being immune to his quirk, and you slightly feared what would happen if you gave in to the whispers of his words. Would you blackout in a daze before coming back to normal only when placed in the prefectures jail? Would he actually attempt to kill you? You had no idea.

But you turned on the ledge, looking at his tired purple eyes that shook with his anger and betrayal. You had done a number on him.

“So, now you can’t seem to respond back to me?” he laughed bitterly, his teeth bared into a way too fierce smile, one that made your heart thump and sent a shiver down your spine. “What game do you think you’re playing?”

You still didn’t answer as you planted your feet back onto the rooftop and stood up, watching as his binds flared to life. Dancing and weaving around him in a dangerous coil of fabric, like a frilled dragon lion lizard extending its skin in a warning.

“Should’ve taken you down with that first time I found you,” he spat, his eyes narrowing as you took steps toward him, and the weapon seemed to snap at you. “Did your sister pull the same bullshit on him as you did me? Is that why he became ‘psycho?’”

Now that one nearly got the response out of you as fury thrummed through your veins as you were suddenly nose to nose. You couldn’t help it, but you knew there was no point in explaining your reasoning for doing what you did because he would never understand; he couldn’t.

So as his eyes flashed dangerously from your eyes, his breathing coming down harshly against your upper lip, the hatred he had for you (that was probably reignited from a year ago and make it double) simmered between the air between you and him. You couldn’t resist.

Your lips pressed against his in a simmering hot kiss.

Shinsou shoved you away, as quickly as you had pressed your mouth against his, but you were back on him before he could utter a word. Only that this time, he kissed you back with scalding, burning heat.

You never really knew how much smaller you were to Shinsou until you were on the tips of your toes to kiss him, his hands practically burning you as they gripped onto your hips, pulling you so close there was hardly any room to breathe. His kiss was hateful, spiteful, and full of unspoken passion the two of you had never addressed during the period that was good. It had been so good, but he was a hero, he would never understand.

His teeth bit harshly onto your lower lip, and you hissed, your fingers burying into his hair and tugging at the root of his hair as his tongue came and pressed dangerously against yours. His tongue was hot against yours, he was undoubtedly much more hotblooded than you were, and with his emotions heightened, he exhausted what.

Tongues clashed against one another, but it wasn’t even a battle of dominance; it was a battle to find who surrendered. There was to be no joy or excitement for whichever tongue prevailed, just the burning of the tears falling down your face and the acid taste on your tongue as he suckled on your pink muscle.

Your eyes were partially opened, watching his angry yet blank purple eyes meet yours, neither one of you allowing yourself to give in to the pure elation and sensation this was bringing. No, he wouldn’t allow it, and you wouldn’t have it.

The stubble of his beard scratched into your skin repetitively, feeling like sandpaper against your own skin as the kiss deepened, consuming the both of you on a whole new level as your crotches ground roughly against one another. Hisses and groans couldn’t stop pouring from your collective mouths, both of you hating yet craving more from this all. You couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he spoke to you like this, would he do something to you while you were like this? So when his massive, thick hand made contact with the underneath of your ass, scooping up your leg so that your covered cunt could now correctly grind into his hard cock, the weapon you stole from him a year ago bound around his neck, choking him, collaring him.

“I like my bitches chained up,” you mocked against his lips, but somehow, someway, Shinsou liked it.

You groaned loudly at the way Shinsou gasped for air against the makeshift collar, your grin widening as you nodded your head, pulling away from his mouth as the grin became a smirk. “Didn’t think you wanted to talk when we were fucking?” you lied, teeth biting onto his lower lip and sucking on it as your hips oh so artfully bucked against his covered cock. You could feel the growing slick in your panties beginning to feel uncomfortable with the lack of proper friction, and your head lolled backward when he slammed your core against his, devilishly grinding against you.

He picked up your other leg and dropped the both of you to the floor, the uncomfortable gravel stone floor digging painfully into your back, but you could care less. Shinsou’s mouth was already back on your body, scratchy, scraping kisses placed on your neck, making you moan out, legs wrapping around his waist as you cant your hips upward to grind into him.

Unamused with the lack of his hands on your body, you took his arms that were planted at your shoulders and pressed his heavy palms on your breasts, avoiding the pissed look in his eyes as his teeth marked you painfully. You actually shrieked in pain. The feeling of his teeth tearing through the skin on your neck, while his finger kneaded and pulled at your covered breasts. It was unashamedly painful with how he played with your breasts. He seemed to grow happier with every sound of distress you made.

Fisting your hands back into his hair, you pulled him back to your face level, your eyes fluttered at the way his clothed erection carded perfectly between your sopping wet cunt. Blood stained his mouth, making his teeth slightly orange in tint, and you clicked your teeth in partial anger and pain as your neck throbbed. Slamming your lips back against his, you almost gagged at the taste of iron that soared through your senses as his tongue wasted no time to seek yours out. His lips and fingers were so ardent, manipulating your every body movement, cry of pain and pleasure as thrumming hatred for the stupid, stubborn hero above you still coursed through your veins.

Sweat began to form at your temples as your lips gilded against his, your hips snapping up to meet his grinding hips, and an airy response keened from his mouth as you moaned loudly.

His incessantly grinding hips were making your legs shake with stimulation, your whines and whimpers for more opening like a flood gate as you finally stuck a hand between the two of you and shoved his pants to his knees. You dropped your legs from around his waist, and he assisted you in ripping your pants off from one side of your body, the fabric still clinging to your right leg, but you could hardly care. All you wanted was for him to plant his cock into your blazing heat and to fuck you, to claim you here on this rooftop that started and would end it all. You wanted him, his cock, and him.

“Fuck me,” you begged into his ear, and his back shivered with your words. You hooked your leg around his waist, carding his hot, throbbing cock against your soaked pussy, as you rolled your hips. “I want you to fuck me, fill me with his cock, and cum deep within me to show me just how much you fucking hate me.”

You cried out when his hand shot down to his cock to line it up with your squeezing, dripping hole, his mouth once again covering yours, kissing you aggressively, fueled with an emotion you could taste as bitter hatred. Your legs trembled as the tip of his cock continued to press against your entrance, not entirely entering it, not giving you friction to send you into a euphoric end. You could help the snarl that passed through your lips, your eyes angry beyond repair as the head of his cock continued to deny you. Whenever you tried to grind down, to force your walls around his cock, he went down with you, he wouldn’t allow it, and your cunt clenched against nothing as he gave you nothing.

Shinsou wheezes out a bitter chuckle, his hand raising his cock from between your soaked folds to slap his heavy, thick, and long length against your throbbing clit.

Hatred and desire soak your body, and you needily rub your clit against his cock, your hands shoving up his shirt to feel the scarred pattern of his back as you give him new ones that were produced by your nails.

“Don’t tease me, hero,” you snapped, fingers tearing into his skin to draw blood. “You fuck my pussy so good, right now, or I promise next time you’ll go out with that bomb too.”

That seems to do what you want because before those words settle on your nerves. His cock penetrates deeply within you, bottoming out entirely as your head thrashes back against the gravel of the floor, throbbing pain from that entirely ignorable because fuck, his cock was stretching you out. He was so thick, so fucking veiny that you could feel the pulsating veins on his cock pressing against your puffy, sensitive walls. You scream his name as the pleasure-filled pain pulses within you, your hips thrashing, wildly bucking in your attempt to calm from the sudden placement of his cock.

“Why are you so fucking big?” you splutter, a whining pitch to your voice as you clawed at his back, trying to separate your joined bodies but also trying to get even closer. “It’s so big, my walls feel like! Oh fuck, Shinsou, it feels like Imma split in two!”

It seems that Shinsou holds some great pride over those worse, because he growled deep in his chest, and his hips begin to fuck into you. It sends your hands to the base of his neck, clutching onto his skin with hope as you scream in pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the wet squelches fill the air and tickle your ears. The head of his cock keeps dragging against your spongy wall, brushing over your g-spot over and over again as if he knew where it was, as if it was common knowledge as he fucked you further into the gravel floor. It didn’t even hurt anymore, your skin singing with joy as his cock fucked you stupid.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck me!” you whined, and Shiinsou made an approving noise.

He grunts as your cunt flutters and clenches around him, his balls hitting your skin in possibly bruising force and speed. And his pelvis crashing against your stings ever so slightly, but has you begging for more, sobbing for more.

Your vulgar words and moans are unstoppable at this point, your legs and thighs trembling as they are still circled around him, sometimes assisting you in coming up to meet his driving, drilling hips. You whine into his ear, your mouth pressing blind and sloppy kisses against his slick with sweat neck.

It’s when both his hands bring your hips up to him, his cock finally bottoming out entirely within you, does the most primal moan rip through your mouth. You convulse underneath him, trying to move as the head of his cock buries against your cervix, poking your womb with power and speed that has you swearing behind the blackness of your vision that this sensation brings. You can see the entire galaxy, the world lighting up when his cock leaves the thin wall, and you gasp, shocked that the heat and slick of your cunt is still going. You tremble underneath him, wordless cries pittering from your mouth while he bites on your earlobe.

You soon readjust to the numbing pleasure, the bruising pleasure, and pain that comes with his cock slamming against your cervix. The way that he thrusts up into you, stretching out your walls far more than you were ever used to.

A pathetic cry escaped your lips when he rolled over so that you were now on top, your body bouncing as soon as it could against him. You keened and whined, feeling the top of his cock licking your cervix, and you spluttered.

“Fuck this angle, this angle and your cock!?” you stammered, fists curling into his collar as you rode him, his hips snapping up into yours with that same animalistic power and speed.

His pace is irreplicable, near maddening with every successive thrust of his hips. Each snap, each wet noise sends you close to the edge, your inner walls clenching and milking his length with greater power as your senseless cries fill the night sky. His grip on your waist will leave purple bruises later tonight, you just know it, but the fire in his eyes as you lock fazes is enough for you to be okay with it.

Its intensifying, deepening, fire erupting in your core as your cunt throbs.

Sweat, tears, and spit fall from your face, and Shinsou surges upward, kissing you with everything he can. It's a maddening escape of lust and need and hatred being exchanged, saliva spreading between you, covering your hot faces with slimy coldness, But you keep him close, your mouth drinking him in more, begging for more as your tongue sinks into his mouth.

His fingers rake down from your back. Past the curve of your clapping ass and onto your powerful thighs that helped in your action to claim his cock. Your joined mouths, both parted in silent screams, wordless begs for more, branding curses that spoke of his hatred for you, your hatred of his job.

Fuck this, fuck that, fuck, fuck, “fuck!”

You held each other impossibly close. Despite the barriers of shirts and armor separating your chests, you swore you could feel his hammering heart flush against your chest. A steady, consistent beat reminding you that this was a one-time thing, that this was yet another bomb with only one explosion to it.

“S-Shit!” his voice finally managed to escape from the makeshift collar, and you nearly sobbed at the sound of his gravelly, husky voice.

You still hated him, you really hated him and his stupid deep voice.

Your back arches as the control you had on collar suddenly slacks, as if you had never had it there, and his own noises of sex, of hatred, of pleasure fill and echo in your ear. You can hear him mumbling something in your ear, your head pathetically nodding, tears streaming down your face only you can’t seem to figure out why. The throbbing pressure in your stomach made you near uncomfortable as his cock sank and disappeared from your cunt, your walls' vice grip becoming tighter and tighter and tighter.

There’s vigor, untapped lust, pent up frustration as he rolls you both around, pushing you back into the gravel and dives his length into your wet, loud cunt without mercy. You were overworked, over thrilled, the pressure of your coming orgasm snapping into your every fiber of your being, your toes curling, and drool seeping from your lips as he growled.

The noise seemed to resonate deeply in your own chest, and he pressed his sweaty forehead against yours, pathetic, needy noises escaping your lips as you stared into his angry, lusting eyes. And as he buried his teeth into your bottom lip, his nose scrunched in an aggressive snarl, he spoke with finality:

“Cum.”

You weren’t sure if you had suddenly fallen under the persuasion of his brainwash, or he just knew you were overfilled with pressure, but you went rigid in his hold, your eyes rolling backward, and your vision going white. You came in powerful waves, electric stimming vibrating through your entire body as your spongey, wet walls clamped around him, and Shinsou came in a guttural groan. His hips snapping into your with five last, robust, resounding thrusts until your trembling abdomen and thighs were stilled with his crushing weight.

You could feel his hot cum pulsing and thriving deep within your cunt, and you panted heavily, your body feeling alarmingly weak as the both of you lay there. A puddle of cum, tears, drool, pain, longing, and hatred.

He lays on top of you, his chest heaving with his breathing, and you felt frozen beneath him. The pain of the gravel roof no longer adds to your pleasure but rather is stabbing you in pain. It’s quiet as you lay there.

He’s quiet.

You’re silent.

“Why’d you do it?” he asked suddenly, interrupting the silence that you hated.

“I can’t tell you,” you admit, voice thick and heavy with untold emotions.

“You know I’ll have to arrest you, right?” Shinsou spoke softly, but he didn’t move to capture you, and you didn’t move to run.

What was the point? It wasn’t as if there was ever a fighting chance for the both of you. The world would have never allowed it, so why bother?

“I don’t think you hate me enough to arrest me right now, sleep on it,” you softly chided, your eyes staring up into the universe, begging to know why they made you a freak?

“Not right now, you spent all my energy,” Shinsou admits, rising up from you, his soft cock removing itself from your humming core, and you looked away to keep from staring. “I really hate you though, y/l/n. I don’t like liars or pretenders.”

“Convince your cock of it next time,” you couldn’t help but fire back, your upper lip curling in your anger and hatred at the sound of his zipping pants.

Silence and a beat follow your words.

“I’ll tell you this now,” Shinsou spoke, turning on his heels, his tone was cold, distant, like a stranger who could care less for you. “Don’t let me see you again. If I do, I promise you, I’ll send your ass to Tartarus. We’re no longer on good terms.”

Anger, hatred, and fury course through your veins as you stand up, legs weak, but spirit wounded as you pull up your pants, uncaring of his cum leaking from your slit.

“Don’t you dare show your face to me again! Next time I won’t save your fucking ass when I blow something up!” you snapped, the tears running down your face uncontrollable although your voice never gave it away. It didn’t have to though, he turned around one last time, and his eyes met yours, and the two of you glared and simmered.

But, he didn’t bother to respond back as he disappeared into the shadows of the night sky.

You collapsed onto your knees, exhaustion finally catching up with you, and you realized his capturing weapon you had stolen was finally taken back by the rightful owner. You fell forward, the tears and silent sobs muffled by your bitten lip as you stayed on that rooftop for an hour. Crying like a freak.

Truth be told, you weren’t even sure if you ever hated him.

...

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From Unknown: ↳ Good job, y/n. Phase one is complete.

#shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #bbs kinktober 2020

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backtobackbakubabe · 3 years

Text

Speak Easy Part 10

Dabi x Reader, Bakugo x Reader

Words : 7142

Masterlist

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together?

Words with ‘this’ is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.

*********************************************************************

“Hold her down! Fuck! How is she still this strong? How much did you give her?”

Your vision was black, and you couldn’t tell if that was because you were blindfolded or just too drugged up to open your eyes. You could hear shuffling as two? No three people moved around you. One was pinning your arms down while another played with the collar that was digging into your neck.

“Listen man, I don’t think we’re supposed to be in here. If they find out we played with their new toy they’ll be pissed!”

There was a new set of hands gently pushing your flimsy medical gown up, “You heard what they were saying right? They said she’s the best sex a man will ever have in their life. It’s like her quirk or something.” You wanted to cry out, but your tongue felt like lead in your mouth. Were you even able to speak? Were you gagged? You couldn’t even tell. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.” The hand firmly pressed into your hip. “Now hold her down, and make sure she stays quiet.”

You woke with a rush. Your breath beyond labored as you tried to run from the memories that refused to stay hidden for long. A new set of hands circled around your waist. These hands were different though. These hands were rough and callused. These hands were patient. These hands were reassuring.

“You want to talk about it?”

You shook your head before turning into him and burying your face into his chest. “Just another bad memory.”

His fingers trailed through your hair as he repeatedly kissed the top of your head. “Sometimes I wish I could just hop into your head, like you did mine the other night. Then I could see their faces. And I never forget a face…”

You heard the unsaid threat in his words. He wanted to know your demons so he could hunt them down. He was like Bakugo in that way. They both needed to do something…anything to make them feel like they were helping. The only difference is at the end of the day Bakugo’s victims end up in prison and Dabi’s end up six feet under.

The pounding in your head only seemed to increase. The drums of regret beating behind your eyeballs. “God.. why did we drink so much yesterday?” You groaned and curled further into Dabi’s side.

His fingers rubbed at your temples. “I seem to remember it being your idea. And who am I to deny the drinking queen.”

You groaned as you remembered your antics. “I know you’re not exactly known for being a good influence… but you could have tried a little harder to at least get me to drink some water.”

Dabi vibrated with soft chuckles. “Consider your hangover penance for making me play that ridiculous game. Now get off of me and go take a shower. You smell like a bar.”

With a pouting look you sighed, “But I’m still sad.”

Dabi gave your ass a hard slap. “There is no rule that says you can’t be sad and in the shower. Get your ass in there and clean yourself up. You’ll feel better after your clean and fed. I promise.”

With a chorus of dramatic groans and muffled curses you pulled yourself off of him and slowly made your way to his bathroom. You stopped right before you crossed the threshold and turned to give him your poutiest look, “Are you really going to make me do it alone.”

A pillow flew through the air faster than you thought possible and hit you in the face. ��You are more than capable of cleaning yourself. I have other things I need to take care of.”

You stuck your bottom lip out, “Just because I can doesn’t mean that I want to.”

Like a man possessed, Dabi slowly got out of bed. He moved so slow, as if he was a predator stalking his prey. You instinctively held your breath in anticipation as he inched closer and closer. His eyes like a dim fire, but focused on you all the same. He invaded your personal space, slamming his hand on the door behind you beside your head. He leaned down until his nose brushed yours and his lips hovered over yours.

You closed your eyes as he leaned closer but right before your lips connected, “I don’t remember asking what you wanted. You need to take a shower, and I need to handle some business. If you’re still this desperate later then I’ll be more than happy to fuck you.” He gripped your chin and bumped your nose with his. “It’s not that I don’t want to. But I don’t want you to fall into a habit of letting me have my way with you every time you have a bad memory. It’s not fair to either of us.” You felt a single tear streak down your cheek as you nodded. “If it’s just a distraction fine, but you need to learn how to confront and deal with this shit on your own. It’ll just be harder later if you don’t. Believe me.”

A few beats of silence passed before he reluctantly backed away from you. His fingers lingering before letting go of you completely. It wasn’t until he was exiting his room you had the nerve to speak up. “You’re not just a distraction.”

There was no telling if he actually heard you or not. If he did, he didn’t react or respond. Your admission caught you surprise, and you almost hoped he hadn’t. You thought about this weird new attachment you were feeling to Dabi lately while you took your shower. You wouldn’t go as far as to call this foreign new feeling love or anything crazy like that. But you were growing quite fond of his presence. You felt comfort in his warmth, and you appreciated the way his hands always knew just wear to touch to ease your anxiety. Sure, he was a certified asshole, but at least he kept you strong. He made sure you took care of yourself. He didn’t take your shit or your excuses. He got you walking, talking, and opening up within weeks.

You went through your routine slowly, taking your time under the hot water. You’d rather not think about the memory that surfaced last night. But Dabi was right. You needed to take time to work things out yourself. His comfort was more of a band aid, a temporary fix. You needed to at least try to heal on your own.

You had no idea when it happened. It seemed like it was pretty early in your captivity. Back when you still had a little fight in you. You didn’t actually remember what happened after that but you can only assume the worst. Your skin crawled at the thought. You hugged yourself as you let the water hit your back. You closed your eyes as you let your heart beat slowly even out. You refused to let this define you. You were more than your trauma. You thought about Dabi again. He had his own scars. Both literally and figuratively. He had to look in the mirror every day and see the evidence of his trauma every day. If he could do that then you could do this.

One look into the mirror showed that your hair was absurdly long. You would need to cut it soon. But for now, you could just braid it. You giggled as you finished, it was like you had a secret weapon. It gave you a childish idea.

Skipping out of the room you made your way to the kitchen where Dabi was currently on the phone. If hero training taught you anything, it was stealth.

Silent as a mouse you tiptoed up to his turned back.

“We’ll be fine. You’re more than welcome to come if you’re that worried, but I promise it’s not a big deal.” You paused right before you pounced on him, curiosity getting the best of you. “I’ll send you the location, as well as updates. Will that make you feel better?” You could hear a rough voice on the other end and you instinctively knew it was Katsuki. “She’s fine, calm down already. She’s behind me right now thinking she’s sneaky would you like to talk to her?” You leapt at him swinging your braid like a whip and hitting him in the chest.

You froze as Dabi’s gaze flipped to you in seconds. “You want to talk to him?”

You silently nodded as you excepted the phone from him. “Hi…”

A relieved sigh, “I was worried you’d still be mad at me.”

You suddenly wished he was physically here so you could reassure him. “It was silly for me to react that way. It’s obviously not your fault. It… it just sucks.”

“I know…”

So many words hovered on the tip of your tongue, but you just couldn’t make yourself say them. “I feel like we need to talk, but I don’t want it to be over the phone.”

Katsuki gave a nervous chuckle, “Well I guess you’re in luck.” The doorbell rang out and you almost dropped Dabi’s phone.

Dabi took his phone back from you before stomping off to open the front door. “I really didn’t think you’d take me seriously when I said you could come.”

Without breaking eye contact with you Katsuki entered the house, “Well you did offer, and I did come. So, quite bitching and deal with it.” He noticed your nervous posture and he softened, which was something you didn’t think he was capable of. “You want to hash it out here, or would you like to talk privately?”

You nodded your head towards the back door, “It’s a nice day. We can sit on the patio.”

Dabi was secretly grateful. You would get the chance to have an honest conversation with Bakugo while also staying where he could see you.

Katsuki followed you out to the garden. He notices how you refused to look at the pool but he didn’t comment on it. “So… are we gonna talk about it?”

You collapsed into your chair and sighed. “I think we need to.” You looked up and your eyes locked with his vermillion ones. “Look, I’m sorry for reacting the way I did. I just… It’s just not fair.” You huffed as you averted your eyes. “That sounds so fucking childish but it’s how I feel. You, Izuku, Shoto, you all got to achieve your dreams. You’re heroes. But the people who did this, who are still doing this to me… they’re technically heroes too.”

His hands squeezed yours, but he made no attempt to cut off your little rant. “They would never do this to you. No one would even believe them if they tried. The public love you guys and you’re damn good at your jobs… and yet there’s nothing you can do to help me…” You could feel his gaze on you and your cheeks reddened. “I just feel helpless and stupid. Stupid for believing so much in the system. Stupid for falling for all their little tricks. Stupid for not seeing the bigger picture. And at the end of the day I can’t even fight it because I did those things… well not all of it, but a good majority. All I can do is lay low and pray no one ever finds me. I’m fucking helpless.”

He grunted and his grip on your hand tightened. “It kills me. You say I’m a hero and I can’t even save you.” You finally looked at him again and all you saw in his eyes now was raw anger. “I’ve never been so confused… so helpless in my life. I don’t know who to trust. I don’t know who’s on what side. Was my whole life a lie? Do real heroes even truly exist? Or are we all just pawns in some fucking bigger game?” His voice began to break under his emotion. “I love you y/n. I’m in love with you. I have been for a very long time. Maybe even since we were kids. And I can’t sleep at night because out of everyone in the world you were the one I couldn’t save. I blame myself every day. I tell myself if I had just fucking manned up and told you how I felt sooner then maybe we would have had a chance… and maybe I would have noticed when shit started going sideways.”

There was a flash of vulnerability in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by anger once more. “Now you’re with him and it feels like I’ve completely lost you. Not that I’m complaining. If he’s what you need to heal then… whatever, I’ll just have to get over it. But I need you to know that I’ll always be there for you. No matter what. I don’t care who you’re with, who’s after you, I don’t care! You are and will always be my top priority.” You rubbed reassuring circles into his hand with your thumb. “You say it’s not fair and I get it. It’s not. It’s disgusting. You don’t deserve any of this. For the first time in my life it has me questioning what side I’m on.”

Your entire lives the only things Katsuki seemed to care about was becoming the number one hero and beating Izuku. So, to hear him say that he’s now questioning that broke your heart. “Katsuki, please don’t say that. Even if the hero system is fucked up. That’s doesn’t mean all heroes are too. You’re in it for the right reasons. I have no doubt that if all the hero agencies crumble today, tomorrow you’d be right back on those streets defending the people. You don’t need an official rank to be the number one.”

He let out a huge sigh and you could see the tension leave his shoulders. It was like a huge weight had lifted off of him. He gave you one of his trademark smirks, although it was a little softer than usual. “You always seem to know what to say when I’m falling apart.”

You ran a hand through his spiky blonde hair, “I’d like to think I am an expert Katsuki bomb defuser at this point.” He rolled his eyes, but you could see the slight pink blush dusting his cheeks. “I’ve spent most of my life finding ways to calm you down before you explode, and honestly I wouldn’t trade that time for anything.”

“Oh yeah? Even though half the time it ended in scrapped knees and pulled pigtails?”

“Sometimes it ended in shared ice cream and hand holding.” You giggled, “You used to hold my hand all the damn time when we were little. Dragging me from one place to the next, always so impatient.” You gave him a puzzled look, “But then one day you stopped out of nowhere and told me it was gross.”

“Tsk. You have my shitty mother to thank for that. When my quirk started developing, she told me to stop holding your hand because I might blow you up.” He gave you sly smile, “Technically she was right, but it still scared the shit out of me.”

You both talked and giggled for what felt like hours. The weight of the pervious day slowly floating away. You probably would have stayed that way for much longer if his phone hadn’t gone off interrupting the two of you.

He glared at his screen before grunting. “I’ve been here too long. I need to get going.” He stood from his comfortable spot next to you and stretched. He gave you a long look over from you head to your toes and back. “I promise I’ll try to not obsess over what you and staples do when I’m not around, if you promise to not do anything stupid.”

“You know I can’t promise that. Weren’t you the one who used to say stupid was my middle name?” He gave you an unamused look and crossed his arms over his chest in frustration. You cut him off before he could start on a lecture. “I promise to try to behave and stay out of trouble. There feel better?”

A drawn our sigh left his lips. If his expression was any indicator, your promise did absolutely nothing for his nerves. “I guess it’ll have to be good enough.” He leaned over and kissed the top of your head, “I’ll be back to check on you in a few days, alright?”

You nodded as he reluctantly made his way back towards the house. You watched him leave but decided to stay outside a little longer. It really was nice outside, and you wanted some more time to yourself before Dabi grilled you about your conversation with Katsuki.

---

Bakugo stomped back into the house and wasn’t surprised when he was quickly apprehended by the very man that plagued his thoughts. “Oi, whatever it is you want to say, say it quick. I got to get out of here before they notice I left.”

“I know the two of you have a lot of history… So…” He looked uncomfortable for a brief second. “She just looks happy when you visit… so uh… thanks.”

Bakugo had to blink back his surprise. He had been preparing himself for a fight. “Yeah well… you obviously aren’t doing a bad job either… she seems comfortable around you.”

The two men spent the next few moments awkwardly staring at each other before Bakugo cleared his throat. “Listen. I think it’s obvious I have feeling for her. She knows that now. But at the end of the day I just want her to be happy. Maybe if things had gone differently, we would have ended up together, and maybe one day we still will. But she’s gone through enough shit recently, and if… if you’re what she needs right now… Then I wont get in the way.”

Now it was Dabi’s turn to be surprised. Everything he knew about the great Dynamight was his unwavering need to be the best, to win, to conquer all opponents. So to him conceding really showed not only how much he had matured in recent years but also how serious he took his relationship with you.

“I’ll always be there for her. Like you said she likes it when I come to visit, so I’ll keep coming around.”

To this Dabi groaned, “Coming to visit is one thing, but hanging all over her and kissing her in front of me is another. Keep your sweaty hands to yourself.”

Bakugo barked out a laugh, “I kissed the top of her head calm down. Don’t tell me you’re not up for a little competition?” When Dabi’s only answer was to only narrow his eyes Bakugo smiled. “Just because I’m not going to throw a fit about the two of you… doing whatever it is you’re doing… doesn’t mean I’ve completely given up. If you ever mess up, and let’s be honest you probably will… I’m going to be there for her.”

“I’m actually counting on it.”

Bakugo gave him one last glance before nodding and making his way towards the exit.

Dabi joined you outside as the soft breeze kissed his always too warm skin. You kept your eyes closed as you heard his heavy feet approaching. “If you’re grumpy about Katsuki I don’t want to hear about it.”

His large form blocked the sun as he hovered over you. “What would I have to be grumpy about? He’s not the one you were begging to fuck you in the shower this morning.” His rough hands ran over your bare legs. “Put some real clothes on we have some errands to run.”

Your eyes snapped open. “Errands? Like we’re leaving the house? I’m going outside?”

“Well technically you go outside all the time, but yes, you will be leaving the property today. Stretch your legs, get some fresh air and all that good stuff. I don’t know if you noticed but we are really low on groceries and there’s only enough ice cream left for one of us and I don’t like you enough to share… So go change.”

You practically sprinted back to your room. You threw on the one dress you had that had come in one of your care packages from Izuku and Shoto. The only other clothes you had were either T-shirts, pajamas, or belonged to Dabi.

You knew you had a pair of shoes somewhere, but you couldn’t remember where you put them. You hadn’t exactly needed them until now. The longer you looked the more your nerves ate at you.

Were you ready to leave? You were safe here. Did you want to leave your little bubble?

You knew Dabi wouldn’t let anything happen to you, but it was still terrifying.

A soft knock broke you from your thoughts. “What’s taking so long?”

“Sorry, can’t find my shoes.”

To this he nodded, “Oh they’re in the garage.”

“How did they get there?”

He shrugged, “You threw them at me once, so I hid them.”

With a dramatic roll of your eyes you made your way over to him. “What you scared or something?”

His hands gripped your waist and pulled you to him, “Oh a shoe? No. Of you throwing said shoe at me? Of course. I would be stupid not to be afraid of you.”

You smiled proudly, “Damn right. And don’t you forget it.”

He gave your hips a squeeze, “I could get used to seeing you in a dress.” His hand snaked around to you lower back finding your long braid and grinned evilly as he grabbed it and wrapped it around his wrist effectively pulling you head back and baring your neck to him. “Oh and this braid is amazing.” His lips brushed over your bare shoulder, then your neck, your cheek, before finally giving you a quick peck on your lips.

You reached up on your tippy toes to ghost your lips over his. “Remember when I wanted to have sex this morning and your promised if I was still desperate later, you’d fuck me?” A fire lit in his eyes as he silently nodded. “You leaned even closer but still kept your lips from fully connecting with his. “Karma’s a bitch.”

“UGH!” His hands left you as he did what you could only assume was his version of pouting. “You fucking brat…Let’s go. The sooner we go, the sooner we can come back and lock ourselves in our room.”

Our room? It was the first time he had said that. You weren’t sure which room he was referring to, but either way, you kind of liked the way it sounded.

You held your hand out to him, “Oh come on now. Don’t be like that. You can hold my hand.”

He glared at you then your hand and then back to you. “No thanks. They probably are still covered in nitroglycerin from your little friend and I’d hate to accidentally look control of my quirk and blow us up.”

You balled up the hand you had offered to him and punched his shoulder, “Who’s the brat now?”

He led you to the garage in silence, noticing the way your shoulders tensed the closer you got. Right before you reached the door, he stopped you. “I know this is probably just as scary as it is exciting so just need you to remember a couple things, okay? One.” He placed his hands on your shoulders and looked you straight in the eye. “I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you. I think we both know I’m not above cremating someone’s fingers off if they even so much as look at you the wrong way. Two. You are way stronger than you feel right now. You may have been through hell, but you came out stronger than you went in.”

His eyes suddenly got very serious. “And most importantly three. Despite number one and two, I need you to be careful and stay close to me. I can’t help you if I can’t get to you, and just because you can take care of yourself doesn’t mean you should have to. It’s just a quick run to a grocery store and back. No reason to get into any trouble.”

You nodded enthusiastically, your excitement starting to overpower your nerves. He looked you up and down and smirked. His fingers came up to pinch your nipple through your dress which had you immediately moaning and pressing closer to him. “I’ll tell you what…one thing we will not being buying today is a bra.” Your teeth pressed into your bottom lip as you held back a whine of pleasure. He gave your nipple one last tug before letting go and backing away. “I love the easy access.”

You took a steadying breath before following him into the garage. You opened the door to the familiar car. The last time you had been in this car, you had been mute, malnourished, and Dabi was digging into you with his knife. You stared at the passenger seat for a moment too long.

“I promise not to stab you again, now hurry up and get in.” You took another moment to appreciate how far you’ve come since the last time you were in this car.

The second your ass was in the seat, Dabi was buckling your seat belt and pulling a hat over your head. “Here put these on too.” He handed you a pair or sunglasses. “We’re going out in disguise.” He smirked, “Well you are, there’s really no way for me to hide this handsome mug.”

“I don’t know. you have white hair now. Match that with some glasses and a bag over your head, and I don’t think anyone would recognize you.”

He reached over you and pulled a pair of sunglasses and a medical mask out of his glove box. “Hmm fresh out of bags. Maybe we should pick some up for later.” He wagged his eyebrows at you.

The wind blew through the open windows as the music surrounded you. For a moment it was easy to close your eyes and pretend this was just a normal day. The past few years didn’t happen, and you were just headed to the store on your day off. You hummed along with the song and even dared to sing a few words.

Dabi suddenly found it hard to concentrate with you singing next to him. He could feel your hum vibrate in his bones. Your words filled his lungs with air while simultaneously making it harder to breath. He’d like to think this was part of your quirk. But something told him it was something else entirely.

Before he could stop himself, his hand found it’s way to your thigh. He had no other intention than just touching you. He just wanted to feel you, feel your skin on his. Your presence filled the car and his hands itched to connect with you in any way they could.

His thumb rubbed absentminded circles as he found himself being hypnotized by your existence. The spell only broken when he pulled into a parking spot. Now reality was crashing back in. He suddenly had the need to rush you back home and lock you away. This world was awful. It didn’t deserve you. “Sorry… Sometimes my singing does that. I didn’t realize I was doing it.” Your hand ran through his hair as if the friction would reboot his thoughts. You could see the confused desire in his eyes start to fade. “I can’t explain it, but just like how my voice can hypnotize, sometimes when I sing it amplifies whatever it is you want in the moment.” You shrugged, “It so rarely happens that I don’t really know what triggers it.”

With a final blink of his eyes his thoughts seemed to clear. The overwhelming desire ebbed but didn’t disappear completely. He was quick to grab your hand as soon as you had both exited the car. “Oh? And what happened to there being too much nitroglycerin on my hands?”

“Shut up.” He yanked your arm rather aggressively as he stormed off into the store.

You weren’t prepared for how ridiculous you would feel. You wish you could take a picture to send to the yourself a few years ago. Here you were with a white haired, former villain Dabi, who had a grocery basket in one hand and your hand in the other. Both of looking totally inconspicuous as the florescent lights reflected off of your sunglasses that he insisted needed to stay on. The borderline elevator music that played in over the speakers just daring you to giggle.

With half of your shopping done you came to the realization that you had been freaking out over nothing. It wasn’t like there was someone hiding behind every corner waiting to drag you back to the lab. Just because it seemed like the world was out to get you didn’t actually mean the world was out to get you.

You were starting to let your guard down just a little bit. You let go of Dabi’s hand for all of ten seconds, which apparently was enough for a lecture. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Your hand hovered over a box of cereal, “Uh… I’m sorry do you not like Lucky Charms? Are you more of a Cinnamon Toast Crunch kinda guy?”

He snagged a box off the shelf before grabbing your hand again. “For my sanity… please don’t let go of my hand.”

“Oh come on I was all of two feet away. What’s going to happen in two feet.”

He lowered his sunglasses so you could see how serious he was. “If we lived in a world where everyone was quirkless… not a lot. But here in this world, where people can do bat shit crazy things… Super speed, portals, explosions, flight, laser beams, do you need me to keep going.”

“Okay I get it. I’m sorry.”

His grip on your hand tightened as he pulled you down the next isle. He was making it really hard to act normal when he insisted on treating you like a child. You gave his hand a tug to get his attention. “Hey look at me.” He hesitated momentarily before turning to look at you and pulling you both to a stop. By the way he was looking at you he knew you were upset, but he looked like the last thing he wanted to do was talk about it. “I get that you’re on edge, but I’m not a child. You gave me this huge speech before we left the house, but now you’re the one freaking out.” You gave him a quick hug. “Out of respect for your paranoia, I promise to stay within arm’s reach. But remember I’m not helpless.”

His shoulders slumped, but he nodded anyways. “Yeah my bad. I think I just underestimated how uncomfortable I’d be.” His shoulder bumped yours. “But until we get back home…I’m going to keep being an overprotective asshole, and you have no choice but to deal with it.” He started his dragging you down isles again. “You may not be a child, but if you pull away from me again, I will literally find a collar and a leash and make you my pet for the day.”

“You’re joking right… right?” He had to be joking. There’s no way he’d follow through with that… right? Part of you knew he honestly would and he’d probably fucking love it.

“Why don’t you keep fucking around and find out?” He smirked which made it even harder to figure out if he was serious or not.

You decided you weren’t going to test him. Not today. Hopefully there would be more trips in your future, and maybe he’d ease up by then. Today he seemed stressed enough to actually snap and follow through with his threat.

He continued to hold the basket for you while he let you reach out and grab whatever you wanted. He wasn’t even really paying attention to the items you were putting in the basket, as his head remained on a swivel, looking for anything suspicious. If he had, he would have noticed it was predominantly junk food. That’s fine. You could stand to gain a few more pounds. He’d make sure to sneak some healthy stuff in there at some point.

You were making your way to check out when he heard a familiar voice calling out to him.

“Dabi? Hey man is that you?” He instinctively placed you behind him as he turned to face his old colleague. “Holy shit it is you! I wasn’t sure because your hair it totally different, but those staples are a dead giveaway. What’s up man? Haven’t seen you in years! What have you been up to?”

You clung to the back of his shirt and you could feel the heat radiating off of him. “I’m doing my own thing now.” His voice was much lower than usual and it sent chills down your spine.

When the mystery man caught on that he wasn’t going to get any more out of him he pressed, “I heard there’s a couple of the guys who’ve been trying to get ahold of you recently. They need help with something. The money’s supposed to be pretty good.”

The man’s eyes shifted to try and get a look at you behind Dabi, but Dabi just shifted to shield you from view. “Not interested. I have enough money.” The man was starting to give him a weird look and it was pissing Dabi off. “Do you have a problem?”

“No, but obviously you do. What crawled up your ass and died? And who’s your new little friend?” He craned his neck to try get a peek at you. “As long as I’ve known you, I never knew you to be the domestic type. She the reason you’ve fallen off the grid?”

Dabi’s hand started to glow with flames. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll mind your fucking business.”

“Oh shit. She must be something special to get the big bad Dabi playing guard dog.” He lifted his hands up in surrender, “But don’t worry about it, man. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Dabi kept his eyes on him until he was out of sight and quickly turned back to the check-out line, “We need to hurry and get the hell out of here. That guy works for the League as a hitman. It’s possible we didn’t see him by accident.” He ushered you through the line and quickly paid for the few groceries you had and was practically sprinting towards the exit.

You made it back to the car and you let go of his hand to quickly make you way around to the passenger side. You had your hand on the door handle when your instincts started screaming. Your eyes cut to the store and then back to Dabi. “I think someone’s i-“

A hand slammed on top of your mouth as you were pulled backwards and in a whirl of wind and disorienting speed you ended up on the other end of the parking and moments later you saw blue fames spurting off in all directions where you had been standing earlier.

“What a temper that guy has.”

You looked up and saw the man from the store. His quirk must have been super speed and you knew you’d never hear the end of this from Dabi.

His hand gripped your chin, “What’s so special about you huh? What could you possibly have that would domesticate that beast of a man?” He pushed you to your knees in front of him.

Your panic was setting in. All the years of training, all the hard work you put in, and the only thing you could think of was running away. You bottom lip trembled. “I’m quirkless… I’m his… his pet.” You hoped you could find a way to stall for time. You had faith Dabi could handle whoever he was currently fighting and then he’d come for you. You just needed to make sure this guy didn’t run off with you again.

The man laughed loudly, “I have to admit I always thought he was a bit of a freak. But having a quirkless little play thing isn’t what I was expecting.” He turned your head to one side and then the other getting a good look at you. “You sure are fucking pretty though… I guess I can see the appeal. Maybe I’ll take you with me.”

Your fight or flight was kicking in, and you knew for a fact there was no outrunning this man. You activated your quirk and locked eyes with him. This was the first time you had used your quirk offensively in a long time. But it was like riding a bike. First you used your voice. “You don’t want to do that. No, you’re a good boy. You want to let me go.”

You watched as his eyes glassed over briefly before he shook his head. “What the fuck! Get out of my head! Quirkless my ass!” His hand left your chin and back handed you. Your head hit a cement parking divider. So maybe it wasn’t like riding a bike.

You needed to focus. No half assing this. Growing up you had learned that your quirk was like a battery. You could either go at full strength for a short period of time or lower strength for a longer period of time. You just needed to up the strength. “I SAID!”

He sprinted away before you could finish talking. You looked around frantically to see where he went but before you could find him he was sprinting by you and kicking you as he passed. His strategy was smart. You wouldn’t be able to get him if he kept moving. He continued his game of sprinting by you and kicking you or hitting you until you were a bloody mess on the ground. Where the fuck was Dabi?

You were pissed. You had had definitely been through worse. You spit out some blood from your split lip. “You hit like a fucking bitch!” You smeared blood and saliva all over your hands and waited. “Fucking fight me you pussy!”

You listened closely for the familiar sound of him approaching. Right before he got to you you rolled over and grabbed his leg as he attempted to kick you. You tackled him to the ground and shoved your hand in his face smearing your blood all over his face, forcing your blood and spit into his mouth.

He sputtered before shoving you off of him and spitting on you. “What the fuck? You’re fucking disgusting!” He tried to stand up to get away from you, but your quirk was starting to work on him. You blood was slowly paralyzing him. You watched as his eyes started to harden inn fear.

“Great keep those open for me.” You locked eyes with him again. “What did you want with Dabi?”

You watched his thoughts as he showed you instructions from Shigaraki. He was supposed to locate Dabi and ask him what his connection was to the people who worked for your hero agency. Apparently, word had gotten out that he had been hunting people and The League wanted to know why.

You heard footsteps rapidly approaching you. You swung around as fast as you throbbing head would let you. Relief flooded over your entire body when you saw it was Dabi. He skidded to a stop when he saw the state you were in. He looked between you and the now paralyzed man on the ground. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

The man managed a creepy chuckle. “She must be that siren hero everyone’s looking for huh?” You were impressed he could still talk at this point, but it was obvious the rest of his body was frozen. “They said she was dangerous…she didn’t feel that dangerous when my foot was connecting with her face.”

Dabi let out a feral growl and he stalked over to him hands out ready to burn him to ashes.

“Dabi NO!” You coughed as you grabbed your ribs. “Stop… he can’t move. We can just call Katsuki, he’ll come pick him up.”

Dabi turned to look at you, his eyes practically glowing. “No fucking way. He’s seen you, he knows too much.” The flames in his hands got hotter. “Just look at what he fucking did to you! He’s not leaving here alive. So either you let me burn him and scatter the evidence or you take this fucking knife I have in my pocket and kill him yourself. Either way this asshole dies now. I told him to mind his own fucking business… he signed his own death sentence.”

You stood up and squared off with him. “I said no… We don’t have to kill him. We can just turn him in!”

“YOU CANT BE THAT STUPID!” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair leaving black streak of soot in their wake in his white hair. “We turn him in, he gets arrested. The people who are looking for you… the ‘heroes’ will integrate him and find out your with me. Then it’ll only be a matter of time before we’re on the run.” He reached in his pocket and held out a knife to you, “He dies now. End of discussion. What’ll it be.”

You looked at the knife in his hand before crossing your arms over your chest and averting your eyes.

“That’s what I thought.”

You didn’t watch as he incinerated the man who was helpless to stop it, but you could smell the burning flesh and you could hear the brief scream of agony before it was gone.

Dabi waited until his hands had cooled down before he bent over and scooped you up. “It had to be done.” The car was still running with the driver door open from where he had driven over here and hopped out. He tucked you into the font seat and took a look into the back seat, “Fuck… the ice cream is melting.”

Your eyes bulged at him as he gunned it towards the main road, “You just murdered someone with no sympathy, but heaven forbid the ice cream melts!”

“Actually, I just murdered two people. And I would do it again without hesitation. I was looking forward to that ice cream!”

********

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