#and she works in her father's convenience store

[birdietrait]

winnie - oc from my possible future sims story

[amentomensmut]

I've never asked for a request before and i dont have clout to write it myself so i thought id ask since i like some of your Mike stuff but

What about something like reader and Mike are friends and he goes to a wedding her as a favor cause i like the idea that he has like a messy suit, loose tie kind of hot mess vibe and smutty things happen lol I dont have much in mind but the idea of him in a messy suit trying to look cleaned up is just like ...drool idk

Plus One

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader wc: 3.1k+

Summary: You invite Mike to be your plus one at your sister's wedding, but things go wrong during the reception and Mike uses you to take out his frustrations.

Warnings: 18+ CONTENT, okay so like reader and Mike are friends but also its kinda angry sex??? You’ll see. Manhandling (sorta), slight exhibitionism, degrading, praise, dirty talk, finger sucking, fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap b4 u tap pookies)

Note: oh my GOD this one got away from me and i'm NOT sure about it, I feel like i could’ve written this a bit better but i just started babbling and now we're here. to the person who requested this: THANK YOU.  i loved ur idea and him in a suit like makes me drool too omg. i also couldn’t help adding a little angst in here. also so nevry to post this?? so lmk what u guys think! enjoy :)

“Please, Mike. I swear this is the last thing you’ll ever have to do for me!” You plead, trying to reason with the very unimpressed looking man in front of you. You’ve been stuck in Mike's kitchen for the past half hour trying to convince him to be your plus one to your sister's wedding next Saturday. Clearly, your convincing hasn’t been successful so far. 

“The last time I did a favour for you was supposed to be the last time.” Mike says with a knowing smirk, and you roll your eyes. A few weeks ago, you went out to a bar with some friends and you may have had a few too many long island iced teas. The owner had forced your hand into calling someone to pick you up, and it was Mike's number you had dialled that night. As he drove you back to your apartment with an unpleasant look on his face, you swore to him that that would be the last favour you'd ever ask of him. How you wish you could take that back right about now. 

“Okay, well, I was drunk when I said that. So it doesn't count.” You say with a frown, crossing your arms against your chest like a child who was denied candy. 

You can’t really blame Mike for not wanting to go. Your family is…a lot. You love your family, you really do (most of the time). But, they can be judgemental. You were the kid in school who always got the hottest new toys for Christmas, and had big themed parties for your birthday every year. It had never really dawned on you that you were more well off than other kids until you had met Mike. You became friends with Mike when you were both 15. When you first brought Mike over to your house to hang out, you heard your parents whispering about him that night when you were supposed to be in bed. Your parents gossiped about the kidnapping of his brother, the suicide of his mother, and how Mike and his sister were essentially left to their own devices with their father paralyzed and consumed by grief. It made you sick to hear your parents nitpick and discuss Mike's life like it was a reality tv show. Your parents never really approved of your friendship with Mike, and they tend to not-so-subtly make that known whenever you make the mistake of bringing him up in a conversation. 

“I don’t think that’s how that works. Besides, when your sister offered you a plus one, I really don’t think she had me in mind.” Mike says as he reaches into his fridge for a beer. “In fact, I think she’d prefer you to invite that guy who works at the convenience store and catcalls you everytime you go in, instead of me.” He says, cracking open his beer and offering you a smile before he takes a sip. 

“Well now you’re just being dramatic.” You huff as you walk over to the couch in Mike's living room and take a seat. Mike follows you from the kitchen and sits down in his armchair, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. Mike sticks his tongue out at you and you have to restrain yourself from strangling the man. If it were any other wedding you would’ve just gone on your own. However, your family events tend to…take a turn for the worst. Your family's gatherings usually end with drama, and you know that even though it’s your sister's wedding, this will be no different. That’s why you're insistent on bringing Mike as your plus one, so you can have a little support if things go awry. 

“Very mature.” You say with a shake of your head, once again rolling your eyes at the rude gesture.

“Listen, I’ll go. But, on one condition.” Mike says, and you sit up straight at his words.

“What’s the condition?” You ask suspiciously, but at this point you think you’d agree to almost anything.

“You babysit Abby for a month,”

“Deal.”

“And do my laundry for a month.” Mike adds.

“That’s two conditions actually, Mike.” You scoff as you get off the couch to leave.

“So you’re inviting the guy from the convenience store then?” Mike teases, knowing he's your only option.

You turn around to face Mike, squinting your eyes at him. God, you hate that cocky smirk he does when he knows he's winning. Bastard.

“Have a suit by Saturday. I’ll be over at 10am.” You sigh, flipping Mike off as you leave through his front door.

“Very mature.” You hear him mumble on your way out.

—-----------------------------------------

“Mike, it looks like you just came back from a bachelor party. Not like you’re going to a wedding.” You say, noting the way Mike’s tie hangs loosely around his neck and the first couple buttons on his white button up are left undone. Mike runs his hands through his hair and you quickly bat them away, scolding him for ruining the hair you had just attempted to fix in the car only moments before you arrived. You can’t deny that he looks handsome. He surely looks charming with the way his gelled hair falls messily on his forehead, and the way his dads old suit fits him almost perfectly.

“Well, hopefully your sister doesn’t mind.” Mike says sarcastically as he adjusts the cuff links on the ends of his sleeves and steps out of your car and towards the church where your sister is getting married. 

The first half of the wedding went pretty smoothly. You and your sister have never really been close, so It wasn’t a surprise to you when she didn’t ask you to be a bridesmaid. You and Mike sat a few rows down, occasionally playing footsies under the pew when you’d accidentally bump feet. A kiss was shared between the bride and groom, and everyone left to go to the reception. 

You were nervous about the reception, to be quite honest. Mike could tell, and he put his hand on your lower back, resting it there as you both walked into the banquet hall. You nearly faint when you see the sheer amount of people that fill the room. There have to be about 200 people minimum. It seemed like way less in the church, you think.

“I need a drink.” You mumble to Mike, dragging him over to the bar. 

Both you and Mike order a drink, and you want to be swallowed by the ground when you hear your mothers shrill, sing-songy voice behind you. 

“Darling! I didn’t see you during the ceremony, I thought you hadn’t come.” You turn around and she pulls you into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to both of your cheeks. She pulls away from you and you notice her eyes immediately land on Mike. “Oh, and what a surprise. Mike, how are you and your sister?” Your mother continues, and you bite the inside of your cheek. 

You watch as Mike plasters a big, albeit fake, smile on his face and shakes your mothers hand. 

“Abby and I are doing well, thank you for asking.” Mike says, and you almost laugh at his cordial tone. Mike sends you a ‘help me’ look and you mouth a ‘sorry’ to him.

“Gosh, it just devastated me to hear about your fathers passing.” Your mother says, clutching her chest like she's in pain, and you think she deserves an Oscar for the way she acts like she gives a shit. “I’m sure it must be so hard for you to provide for your sister alone.” Your mother adds and you watch the smile slowly slide off of Mike’s face.

“Why do you say that?” He asks, and you suddenly regret ever asking Mike to be your plus one. 

“Mom-,” You start to say, but she disregards your voice, raising her hand as you speak to stop you.

“Well, I know you struggle keeping a job. You know, not everyone is cut out to raise a child.” If you could see yourself, you’re sure all the colour would be drained from your face. You’re left speechless, mouth half hung open at your mothers words. How could she say that? She doesn’t know him like you do. She doesn’t know how much Mike sacrifices to provide for Abby.

You look over at Mike and his jaw is tightly clenched. You brace yourself for Mike's next words, but they don’t come. Instead, you watch as he excuses himself and walks towards the mens bathroom.

“Well, he woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” Your mother jokes once Mike is out of earshot.

“Jesus Christ, mom.” You say incredulously as you turn to go find Mike. 

You walk towards the bathrooms, entering the men’s restroom with only one thing on your mind. Mike. Luckily the restroom is empty, save for Mike who is leaning over the counter. You slowly reach behind yourself, locking the bathroom door. You begin to step towards Mike, but you stop when you hear his voice.

“Do you think I'm not fit to raise Abby?” Mike asks you angrily, not even turning to look at you. You just stand there like an idiot, reaching down to fidget with the hem of your shirt.

“I-, no. Of course not.” You say, and the music that was loud in the hall, is now only a low hum in the bathroom. 

It’s silent for a moment, and you’re not really sure what to say, or how to make things better. You resume taking slow, tentative steps towards Mike and you stop once you’re behind him. You place an uncertain hand on his back, softly rubbing it up and down to comfort him. He lets you touch him and you hear him let out a breath. He turns around to face you and you look up to meet his eyes. He studies your face for a moment, and you inch even closer to him. 

“I’m sorry about my mom. That was inexcusable.” You sigh. If you were in Mike’s shoes, you probably would’ve left the reception entirely, and you’re not entirely opposed to that idea right now. 

“Your mother doesn’t think I’m good enough for you.” Mike finally says, and there’s distaste in his tone. You don’t say anything, you know it's true. Your family, especially your mother, has never approved of your friendship with Mike. 

“Do you think that?” Mike asks you, and you’re just now realising how close Mike’s face is to your own. You look up at him with furrowed brows and shake your head.

“No, Mike. I don’t think that.” You say quietly, and you swear the tension between Mike and you is so thick, it could be cut with a knife. You look down, but you feel Mike's hand grabbing your jaw and forcing you to look back up at him.

“You can’t even look at me when you say it. Pathetic.” Mike seethed. You let out a hushed whimper at his words..

“Sorry.” You say, but your voice sounds small. “I know you are.” He coos, rubbing his thumb back on fourth on your cheek.

“I need you to do something for me, okay?” Mike says, leaning down to speak in your ear. His voice is sweet and the switch in moods makes your head spin.

“Okay.” You nod and Mike pulls away from your ear to look you in the eyes.

“Be fucking quiet.” He says, and he presses his lips to yours. You softly gasp in shock, but quickly kiss him back as he turns you around to hoist you up onto the counter. He grabs both of your knees, opening them to make space for him to stand between your legs. He grips your thighs harshly, and you sigh when he sucks on your bottom lip. He puts one of his hands under your jaw, using it to hold your head in place as he kisses you. His lips are slightly chapped, but you don’t mind. He kisses you with fever, and you can’t deny that you haven’t thought about this. 

He kisses down to your jaw and neck, sucking the skin in a way where you know there will be bruises. Jerk. You run your hands through his hair, throwing your head back at the pleasurable feeling of his lips gliding over your skin. The hand that was on your thigh is now trailing up your leg and under your skirt. You clench your legs around his hand and he softly bites your neck, wordlessly scolding you for your actions. You reopen your legs and his hand comes up to make contact with your clothed clit. He rubs slow circles and you let out a soft whimper.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” He slurs in your ear, and his fingers move from your clit to the waistband on your panties, pulling it back and slapping it against your skin. You nod and he’s pulling you off of the counter and flipping you around. Mike bends you over and your chest meets the cold granite. You look in front of you and you can see Mike behind you in the mirror on the wall. He pushes your knee length skirt up and around your hips, and groans at the sight of you bent over for him.

“You okay?” He asks genuinely, running his hands along the sides of your body in a comforting manor.

“Yeah, keep going.” You breathe out and he hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties, pulling them down. You clench around nothing as the cold air hits your cunt. You moan softly as Mike spreads your pussy open with his thumbs, groaning at how wet you are. Without warning, he inserts his pointer and middle finger inside of you, thrusting them in and out. The lewd, squelching sounds of Mike fingering you fill the bathroom and you suck in a sharp breath as his fingers curl up into your sweet spot. 

“Apparently your pussy thinks I’m good enough.” Mike says and you look up into the mirror to see his jaw slack, watching the way his fingers move in and out of you. You can feel Mike's erection brushing against the back of your thigh as he rocks his hips with every thrust of his fingers. 

“Mike, fuck me.” You whine, and Mike takes his fingers out of you. He brings them to your lips, pushing them inside your mouth, and you can hear him undoing his belt with his other hand. 

“Thought I told you to be fucking quiet.” He murmurs and you watch in the mirror as he shoves his pants and boxers down just enough to pull his hard cock out. He removes his fingers from your lips, using your spit as lube to pump his cock a few times before lining it up with your pussy. He slowly inches himself inside of you, pushing you down onto the counter. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream and you hear Mike let out a whine at the feeling of being in you. 

He starts to pump himself in and out of you, and he pulls you up by your shirt into his chest to make you watch yourself in the mirror. He fucks into you like he can’t get enough of you. Like being inside of you isn’t close enough.

“What would your mother think? Hm? About her sweet little angel getting fucked in the bathroom?” Mike says in your ear, with a sickeningly sweet tone. It's like he just knows how to push your buttons. You let out a low moan at his words. 

“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” Mike adds and your legs shake when he uses the hand that was holding you up to rub your clit. You drop back down on the counter and Mike grabs your hip with his free hand, using it as leverage to bottom out in you with every single thrust. He throws his head back in ecstasy and you clench around him, signalling your impending orgasm. 

“You wanna cum?” Mike asks, and his voice is raspy and fucked out. You nod your head ‘yes’. 

“No, want you to say it.” Mike says, and you can tell he’s close by his sloppy, less rhythmic thrusts.

“Please, Mike. Please, can I cum?” You beg, your voice hoarse. The filthy sounds of skin against skin echo throughout the bathroom, and if someone has tried to enter the bathroom since you’ve been in here, you’ve been too fucked out to hear it. Thank god I locked the door, you think.

“Cum, baby, Fuck.” Mike chokes out. Your legs shake as you cum around his cock, your orgasm only heightened by the feeling of him filling you up. You bite down on your hand to muffle yourself and you swear to god you hear Mike whimper, pussy drunk as he continues to ride his high thrusting in and out of your sloppy pussy.

After catching his breath, you feel Mike pull out of you and you wince at the feeling of his cum dripping down your inner thighs. You slowly tilt your head up as you watch Mike get some toilet paper to clean himself up. He tucks himself back inside his boxers and pulls his pants up. You flinch a little as you feel him come up behind you, cleaning you up with more toilet paper. 

“Sorry, was I too rough?” He asks softly, looking at you through the mirror and you shake your head.

“No, just sensitive.” You say as Mike finishes cleaning you. You pull your panties back up, letting your skirt fall back over your legs. Your knees buckle a little bit as you try to stand straight and Mike rushes over to you, lending you a hand.

“You know, I actually think you’re one of the only people who genuinely thinks I am good enough.” Mike says, and you look up at him.

“Of course I do. I always have.” You say softly, gently touching Mike’s cheek.

[ikeuverse]

SLOW DOWN — s.jaeyun

CHAPTERS: prologue | chapter one | chapter two [...]

PAIRING: illegal!jake x fem!reader  GENRES: angst, smut, fluff  WC: 2.8k+

WARNINGS: swearing, weapons, knives, blood, illegal things in general (drugs, racing, alcohol). smut will be added in the next chapters, physical and verbal fights.

SYNOPSIS: working for your father, a mafia boss, wasn't a bad thing for jake. the worst thing was losing you, and he would do anything to win you back.

NOTES: i was listening to the song by chase atlantic, which is the title of this fic, and this scenario with jake just popped into my head. i wrote this part as a taste of what's probably to come. i hope to continue writing it, but first, i want to know what you, my readers, think of it since it's something i like to write about (mafia and all) and with jake being my utt i honestly felt my mind expand. tell me if i should continue or just delete it, please. i hope you like it!

TAGLIST: i've never done this, but lmk if you want to be tagged — mentions in the first chapter (already in the link above)

masterlist

The smooth taste of the cherry liqueur you were drinking was enough to relax your whole body. Smiling slightly at your best friend Chloe, chatting about trivial things in life. She was the one person in your cycle who made everything seem a little more normal.

Chloe was responsible for making you forget that you were part of a mafia family and that everything around you was linked to guns, blood, illegal things, and dirty money. She disconnected you from that world where you were there out of obligation.

"We need to go out sometime" Chloe finished off the liquor in her glass, lifting her body to pick up the bottle and refill it "How about the new nightclub that opened in the next town?"

You thanked your friend when she also wanted to refill her glass, letting the liquor run halfway down and then drinking a little more.

"I guess we could do that" you replied, thinking of ways to try to convince your father not to send a bouncer for you and her. It was unnecessary, but it was also a wasted conversation knowing that he would only let the two of you go out on that condition.

Luckily, your best friend had already gotten used to it, not least because living with you since elementary school had brought her all this knowledge little by little. You were immensely grateful that she didn't abandon you once she knew the whole truth, which is why Chloe has remained your best friend to this day.

"Then we can go to a convenience store and get some ice cream to try while we're still drunk."

The genuine laughter you two shared was the fuel you needed whenever something was heavy in the house. You had to call Chloe if only to stay in your room, in the office assigned to you, or anywhere in the house after hearing men walking around, your father fighting with someone or running around which – unfortunately – you witnessed every time.

It was exhausting. You also knew that there was no point in trying to run away or asking your father to disown you. He wouldn't be able to do you any harm, but he would probably keep you isolated, trapped in some lake house he had as a hiding place, and get you out when you thought better of it. If you could think about living a normal life or continuing your family's mafia.

"Knock, knock" the sound of the door knocking combined with the voice that imitated it brought you out of your thoughts and straight to where you needed to be.

Heeseung's smile was infectious, you always smiled when you saw your best friend. But not when he walked in with his head down wherever you were, his clothes covered in blood and his hands behind his back.

"What the fuck happened now?" you sighed loudly enough, dropping your glass of liquor on the coffee table between you and Chloe.

"Hi to you too, y/n" he finally raised his head, smiling at you again after looking away to his best friend "Hi, babe."

"Heeseung" Chloe raised her glass as a silent toast, ignoring the fact that the nickname she knew was only meant to annoy her. You'd make fun of the two of them if it weren't for your best friend's current situation.

"Where does all this blood come from?" you stood up from your chair "What the fuck have you all done now?"

Hesseung wiped the remnants of blood from his hands on his T-shirt, sighing in the process as he thought about what to say to you.

He was nervous. Lee Heeseung was visibly nervous and you knew that was almost impossible to happen. Come on, the guy in front of you who you called your best friend was one of your father's best illegal racing drivers, he'd been through so much shit on the track, how could talking to you be so bad? That only happened when...

"We need your help" he said at last, biting his lower lip to stop himself from shaking in the process. The boy's eyes searched for yours and, as soon as they were found, he let out "Jake's hurt..."

You froze at that moment, completely shutting out Heeseung's voice as he passed on the information. Chloe noticed, so she listened carefully in case you asked her later what had happened.

Jake's name together with the hurt, adding the blood that was on Heeseung... It all came together in one way and made you follow him wherever your best friend was going.

It was these moments that pulled you back into the life you had, reminding you that your family was part of the mafia and that you, consequently, were part of it too. The most obvious condition your father found to keep you in the business was that you did something that could link you to the surname for the rest of your life. Not as a bastard, because he wouldn't let you walk away easily.

So the only way was to get a degree in nursing, study medicine, and anything else that involved taking care of the wounds of the men who worked for your father. If you were constantly injured, shot, stabbed, or anything too suspicious, the hospital would surely call the police, and a big interrogation would begin. Your father wanted to avoid all this, so getting you involved at least on the good side made you feel less bad about it.

"Finally" Sunoo almost shouted with happiness as you turned the corner of the corridor behind Heeseung, along with Chloe by your side who kept an eye out in case you fainted from being so nervous.

They all looked the same as Heeseung, which made you wonder if Jake had lost a lot of blood or if it had gotten really bad.

"What happened?" you asked again.

"We went to accompany some of your father's men" Jay was the only one sitting down, his elbows resting on his knees. Taking his head between his hands, which were the same as Heeseung's, he looked at you "They set up an ambush, we had to defend ourselves."

You hung up again while Jay continued talking, relaying events to Chloe, who seemed almost like your private secretary.

Your eyes searched for Heeseung and he just nodded at you, then nodded towards the door opposite where Jay was sitting. That's where Jake was. And that's where your father kept a private infirmary, which you affectionately called his workroom.

Opening the door, two of your father's men were standing next to the gurney where Jake's body lay. You didn't look too far in his direction and just approached the sink to tie up your hair and sanitize your hands. Without realizing how much you were shaking at the thought of the worst, especially with Jake.

Why did you feel that way just hearing his name?

Get over it. Forget it.

The voice screamed in your mind as you turned to walk to the stretcher and join the men.

"Jake, dude" Heeseung called "She's here."

A brief moment of silence before Jake's eyes opened, looking at each of the men until they stopped on you. A faint smile on his dry, opaque lips, his eyes squinted.

"My private doctor" he forced a laugh, groaning in pain and placing his hand on his abdomen.

That's when you realized, the blood was coming from there. A cut that tore through Jake's T-shirt, piercing the skin. You couldn't tell how serious the problem was because it all looked like a big mess.

"Let's leave you two alone" Heeseung rested one hand on the side of Jake's head "Don't scare us anymore, your motherfucker" he slapped his friend on the back, turning to you "We'll be at the end of the corridor if you need anything."

You couldn't answer, only nod as Heeseung took the other two with him, leaving you and Jake alone in your room.

"I..." you sighed, closing your eyes and pushing away any thoughts as you went back to looking at the wound in front of you "I need you to take off your shirt, I have to clean it."

Without looking Jake in the eye, you grabbed his hands to help him sit up enough to take off his shirt. Turning to get the products you needed to use and clean it, would give Jake time to remove the shirt that was getting in the way of the whole process.

He, for his part, felt every discomfort and pain coursing through his body as he moved his arm to take off the shirt that had already been lost the moment they tore the material with that knife. That damn knife that had left him like that.

Throwing the shirt anywhere on the floor, Jake sat waiting for you to turn towards him and, as soon as you did, he could see your shocked expression.

"What?" he looked at his own body, then looked in your direction "It's nothing you haven't already seen, touched, kissed..."

"Shut up, Jaeyun!" you wanted to convince yourself that all the burning in your face was from anger at the words you were hearing, and not because you felt embarrassed about it. Why did he have to talk such nonsense?

You didn't have to ask him to lie down, Jake got the message as soon as you got near the stretcher with the absorbent cotton and saline solution. He inhaled a good amount of air and held his breath while you cleaned his wound. It didn't sting like the other times, but he could feel his skin burning with the touch of your fingers on it.

Jake could have sworn he'd burn up if you continued with all that delicacy on him.

"It wasn't deep" your voice caused him to let out a breath, groaning in pain as a little pressure was applied to a spot on the wound "I'd venture to say you moved away quickly enough before plunged the knife into your abdomen."

"You know I'm fast, don't you?" Jake was a fucking idiot with his double entendres, you knew it was pure provocation "Why did I bleed so much?"

Thank God he changed the subject, or you'd have opened that cut yourself.

"Because it cut through the epidermis, it just missed the dermis. That would have been a bit worse and I don't think I'd have brought you here."

"I'm glad they did" for the first time since Jake and you were alone in that room, you could hear the sincerity in his voice. Something that rarely happened.

Your eyes went up from the cut to Jake's face, seeing that he was already staring at you. Without saying much, you concentrated on making the dressing as comfortable as possible so that he could feel more comfortable as he left the room.

As you wrapped the bandages around his torso, his voice echoed in your mind like a relentless demon. It wasn't anything you hadn't seen, touched, kissed... Enjoyed every time he found himself in your room. In your bed.

The thought of a time when you and Jake were together was the last thing you wanted to think about. It had been a long time and that couldn't be part of your thoughts, even if it was sabotage because every day, all the time you looked at him, your mind wandered to the exact moment you two kissed for the first time.

Or how he held you for the first time and every touch on your skin made you boil.

"Thinking of me?" his voice was so vivid that you had forgotten you were still in his presence, with your hands resting on Jake's chest and the bandage already finished.

Sniffling, you straightened up and turned away from him, gathering up the remnants of the things you'd used so you could throw them in the garbage can.

He said nothing, getting up from the stretcher with some difficulty while still looking at you.

It was a lose-lose situation to do that, but Jake simply couldn't let the opportunity he was having slip away. So he walked towards you slowly, as best he could because he could still feel the wound pulling at his abdomen. He got close enough as soon as you turned to face him, a thin scream bursting from your lips from the fright, but soon calming down when you found his eyes resting fixedly on yours.

"Y/n" he whispered.

"Jaeyun, don't..."

"Listen to me, please" the request sounded more like a plea, and you lost count of how many times Jake did it, but he could never finish because you always ran away.

And you wanted to run away again.

"What do you want?" you asked, almost regretting it when he answered, unashamedly.

"You back to me."

He had to be a talker. Jake needed to have that idiotic power over you with anything he said. It was extremely unfair that someone had been born and put into your life just to leave you speechless and steal your heart.

Your sigh was a silent answer that he could come a little closer, and with slow steps, Jake did. Just enough so that he could lean his body against yours only as far as his bruise didn't make contact.

Jake's hand quickly reached for your cheek, forming a shell between it and your face to hold close enough to his.

"Please, I need you back" Jake leaned his forehead against yours, his warm breath beating against your cheek.

Your hands were trembling as one of them touched his arm, while the other went carefully to the opposite side where Jake was hurt. The touches kept his balance and kept him close too.

"Then answer me" your voice was at the same pitch as his, avoiding any louder sounds that might scatter the two of you.

Jake knew what you meant, he was fully aware of it. He'd been asked that question so many times, that's why he knew he wasn't in your life as your boyfriend.

"Y/n, you know I can't..." he began.

"Me or these dangerously idiotic missions of my father's?"

Jake closed his eyes, pressing his forehead a little closer to yours.

"Y/n..."

"You can choose to race with Heeseung, stay in tech with Niki" your voice began to choke and Jake felt that it was hurting more than the cut on his abdomen. He knew it was all his fault.

"But it gives me a lot more money, and..." he sighed, looking straight into your eyes "You know what I'm putting any money towards. Please..."

"Is it money? For God's sake, Jaeyun, I can help you..."

"No!" Jake said sternly, but not rude enough to scare you. He'd never managed to be rude to you since he first met you "I can't accept it. That's my problem and—"

"I thought your problems were mine too."

That phrase was strangely familiar. Jake knew he'd heard it somewhere before, he just couldn't think where when you turned away from him at the same second as the knocks on the living room door were heard. Making you both step back.

"Mr. Jaeyun? Miss y/n?" one of your father's security guards had his head between the doors, looking in your direction. You waved so that he could enter "The rest of the guys are waiting for news, if you could…"

"Of course" you smiled at him, thanking him not only for the information but for the interruption because you knew that another argument was probably on the way "Come on, we need to go."

"Y/n, I—"

"The guys need an update from you" without going any further, you turned away from Jake and waited for him to get ready to leave the room.

You knew it was bad to do this anyway, but there was no escaping it. Being tied up with your family's affairs meant moments like this, but they weren't all bad. Taking care of the people who worked for your family was just a way of saying thank you for them – unfortunately – risking their lives.

But when it came to Sim Jaeyun, you knew that everything was intense. Even more so as the whole story of the two of you played through your mind like a movie on repeat.

All the times you and he had been together, all the moments the two of you had shared until the final fight.

Which Jake was trying, at all costs, to reverse. Because it was as he had told you a few minutes ago, he wanted you back. You just didn't know what Jake was capable of.

© ikeuverse, 2024. do not copy, translate or steal my stories.

[kazenomegaminowanpisu]

JJK boys reaction when their daughter brings their boyfriend to their house

Warning:Over protective father's, some words

Feat: Itadori, Fushiguro, Gojo, Geto, Toji, Nanami

Itadori

—He will greet his daughter's boyfriend happily. "Have a sit" he said. His daughter told him about everything. How did they meet, and how did she fall in love with her boyfriend? Itadori was listening happily to her story, but not until she left and grabbed something from the kitchen. "You," he said as he looked at the boyfriend with a fierce look and started to turn into a bit of a Sukuna. "Don't you dare! Hurt her!" He said as he was pointing his index finger to the boyfriend. "I've killed lots of curses before, don't make me do it again." His scary face vanished when his daughter arrived with a coffee for him and for her boyfriend.

Fushiguro

—"ah, dad? "He will give that guy the meanest look ever. He will pull his daughter's arm closer to him. "Why don't you come in?" he said with his dead serious look. The boyfriend comes inside and sits on the couch, as did Fushiguro. "Sweetie, go grab some food in the kitchen." His daughter walks away and goes over to the kitchen. "Do you really love my daughter? "He said as he crossed his arms. The boyfriend slowly nodded his head. He was sweating a lot. Fushiguro grabbed his collar and looked at him dead in the eye. "If my daughter cries because of you! You'll be waking up in hell." When his daughter came back, she saw her boyfriend trembling.

Gojo

—"This is it?" He said as he was laughing so hard. His daughter rolled her eyes. "Dad" Gojo was still laughing, but when her daughter left, his face became serious. "I don't know what you feed my daughter to like you, but if my daughter wastes a single drop of tears because of you!" He then took off his glasses and showed his beautiful eyes. "These eyes will be the last thing you will see," he said with a creepy smile spread on his face. "Yes sir!!" 

Geto

—"Come on in," he said. The two of them sat down on the couch, facing each other. "Hey honey, why don't you go and make some of daddies favorite tea?" his daughter stood up, smiling before leaving. "Isn't she pretty like her mother?" the boyfriend nodded his head. "Believe me, I will kill someone that makes my princess cry." he then slowly looked back at the boyfriend. "Would you do the same? "He said as he was looking at him (like he was going to kill him for sure). "Yes, sir," he said. His daughter came back with 3 cups of tea. Her boyfriend might need it.

Toji

—"And you are? "His daughter told him about everything. "Oh, your that scumbag," his daughter looked at him with an annoyed face. Toji looked at the boyfriend of her daughter before smiling. "I'm just kidding," he said, then pulled his daughter inside the house. "My daughter is kind and beautiful," he said with a smile on his face. "And I don't need a guy like you," he said with a serious face. "Not a single chance," he then slammed the door on her daughter's boyfriend. 

Nanami

—"What kind of work do you have? "He will start asking some questions like a truly strict parent. "I am a part-timer at a convenience store." He will look at his daughter's boyfriend. "Do you still make some time for her? "The boyfriend nodded his head. "Dad, I guess that's enough? "His daughter said, "No! I need a man who can take care of my one and only daughter, a man! Who can make her happy?" his daughter hugged him tight. "I know dad," Nanami said, then raised his middle finger towards his daughters boyfriend.

[mavrintarou]

[Daddies in December] Haitani Ran

Out of all the Ran stories I've read, he is nothing like what I picture. So fair warning, my vision of Ran might be vulnerable, a little dirty, but hot as hell. This is super long, I spent all day yesterday and most of today on this.

Warning: angst, fluff & smut.

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Haitani Ran knew he was a man of many things but being a father was not one of them.

His lifestyle did not have room for fatherhood.

No matter how many ways he looked at it, it would never work out.

It was in the best interest of him and Y/n to go their way regardless of Y/n’s protest of having hoped to make it work.

It will just not work.

She was never meant to mean something to him, let alone a child they both created by accident.

He could not deny the tiny joy he felt burning when he discovered her pregnancy but had to put out the flame immediately.

After ignoring calls and visits, Ran was left with the last resort.

It was in the heat of the moment when Y/n appeared at his club unexpectedly. Ran could see the shock in her eyes from across the room and he took the opportunity to whisper something into the woman beside him. She excitedly turned to him and he reached for her face, pressing his mouth to hers in a heated kiss.

It disgusted him to the core and the longest three seconds of his life. He pulled away and turned his heels, pulling the woman by her hand, and disappeared into the VIP hallway.

That was Y/n’s last straw.

Her calls and visits ceased.

No one and nothing would prepare him for a broken heart.

He was Haitani Ran, he had been shot at, stabbed, and beaten to almost death.

But the pain of Y/n erasing herself out of his life hurt more than all those things combined.

All he had left now was the memories they had in the past.

.

He felt no pain as his knuckles were busted and bloody from repeatedly plugging into the lifeless body he held by the collar.

He was just about to throw another blow when the man was saved by the ringing of the phone.

Releasing the man, Ran picked up his phone. “What?” he barked.

“She’s in labor.”

.

His thumb swiped over the image on his screen of the chubby sleeping infant.

A girl.

He was a father to a baby girl.

It took everything in him not to rush to the hospital she was at and burst into the room to pull them both into his arms.

Even though neither of them had spoken in months, Ran ensured she was taken care of from afar. It pissed him off that the money he sent her went untouched and knew Y/n purposedly refuses to use it to irk him.

The one thing she could not prevent him from doing was the man he hired to protect her and reporting back to him with her every move.

She had an ultrasound appointment today at 2:30. Results show that the gender of the baby is a girl.

At approximately 12:45 AM, she left for the nearest open convenience store and purchased a variety of snacks and junk food.

She had a breakdown watching Sailor Moon.

Ran flipped through the many photos he received from K. He didn’t know how the man was able to take some photos up close and as if he was there in person but he didn’t question the man’s skill. Ran paid him well and he expected nothing but the best.

He was still waiting to hear back from K about what Y/n had named his daughter.

His daughter.

Chuckling like a maniac, he reprimanded himself. What right did he have to claim her as his daughter when he abandoned them?

Ran quickly sat up and ignored the annoying voice in his head when he saw the three dots appear by K’s name.

K: she named your daughter Fuyumi. She has her mother’s last name.

Ran gave his message a thumbs up, acknowledging his message.

Why had he expected that Y/n would give their child his last name?

Reaching for his cigarettes, he was about to light one when he froze, remembering he quit because… he had not wanted to give his child and Y/n second-hand smoke.

Even if he was nowhere near them.

Grabbing the pack of cigarettes and lighter, he tossed it into the garbage.

Leaning back against his couch, he is once again, drowning in his own doing.

Mikey and Rindou have scolded him for making such a pathetic decision to end their relationship. He would never admit that hearing Mikey saying that he would never give up his woman regardless of his lifestyle.

But the damage was already done.

His phone dinged with another message.

Reaching over, he frowned when the notification was from K again, this time of an image.

He tapped on the image, waiting for it to load.

Ran sat up quickly, zooming in on the picture. His eyes scanned the document repeatedly.

For the first time, his heart warmed.

On the official documents of his daughter’s birth certificate, her middle name is listed as Haitani.

He didn’t realize he was smiling like a fool as he pressed down on the image with his thumb and hearted the photo.

.

His daughter was a splitting image of her mother and Ran thanked the Gods for it. The two things she inherited from him are his distinctive violet-hue eyes and blond hair. In some photos K sent her eyes sometimes changed, showing that she also inherited her mother’s blue eyes, sometimes a mixture of blue-violet.

Tapping the screen, he saved all these photos, adding them to the designated folder he created for his daughter.

His phone dinged and it was a message from Mikey, an image.

Ran’s eyes widened as he stood up abruptly, it was a photo of Mikey smiling broadly with his sixth-month-old daughter in his arms.

Mikey: She’s freaken cute, can I keep her?

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Y/n didn’t fear Mikey as much as she should, considering he was a notorious gang leader many feared and the boss of your daughter’s father. She only met Mikey a few times and he treated her kindly.

Ran once said to her it was probably because she was the same age as his baby sister who passed away years ago.

She was surprised to see Mikey approach them at the park. Sensing fear from Mikey and his bodyguards, the other moms quickly gathered their children and took off.

Y/n pulled her daughter out of the baby swing and hugged her close. “Mikey.” She acknowledged, nodding her head at him.

He nodded in return, his eyes shifting to the baby in her arms. “Is she Ran’s?”

Y/n knew he knew the answer already, even if she did lie which she had no reason to, the color of her eyes and hair was a giveaway that she had Ran’s DNA running through her blood.

“Yes,” she answered quietly.

Mikey took a step closer and held out his arms, “is she picky? Can I hold her?”

“If you like, she is… a bit drooly.” Fuyumi stared at Mikey before he reached for her. She continued to stare at him, seeing a new face. “Her name is Fuyumi.” She wasn’t sure he heard her since he was having a staring contest with the baby.

“God!” Mikey snuggled her, “you’re so freaken cute. Thank goodness you look nothing like your dad.” He reached for his phone and looked at Y/n for approval, “can I send Ran a photo? So he knows what he’s missing out on?”

Y/n let out a hesitant laugh, “I’m sure Ran knows... he has someone following and protecting us and he sends Ran updates daily.”

“You know about K?” Mikey gasped, he looked at Fuyumi. “Do you know Uncle K?” He snaps a selfie with her. “Your dad is going to be so jealous that I got a photo with you before him.”

Y/n had a second change of heart but knew that Mikey had already sent the photo. She didn’t know how Ran would react.

Instantly, Mikey chuckled and looked at the baby in his arms, “that sounds awfully like your dad’s motorcycle…”

That’s when Y/n heard it, her head turning towards the sound of the roaring muffler. Sure enough, Ran’s motorcycle pulls up. Of course, he would know where Mikey is at all times in case he needed to get to Mikey at any time.

Y/n’s heart fluttered the moment he took off his helmet and their eyes connected even at a distance.

Ran stopped a few feet away from Mikey, eyes on his daughter. He swallowed the lump in his throat, unable to speak.

“Are you going to say hi to your daughter at all?” Mikey questioned, “I’ll take her if you don’t want her…” he smiled at Fuyumi, “I can be your da –“

“Mikey.” Ran snarl.

Mikey ignored his tone, continuing to talk to the baby. “As I was saying, I can be your daddy. I have blond hair – “

“We should get going,” Y/n intervenes, stepping forward to reach for her child. “It is almost time for her nap.” Y/n hugs her daughter close. She avoided looking at Ran as she muttered a goodbye, turning her heels towards the stroller.

.

She knew Ran was following them.

When she finally reached her apartment she whipped around to face him. Ran had his hands stuffed in his dress pants, looking handsome as ever in his black attire with his sleeves rolled up to his elbow. She cleared her throat and snapped, “you can go now.”

Instead of walking away, he walked towards her until he was in front of them. His eyes drop down to the sleeping baby in the stroller. “Can we talk?”

“No.” Y/n answered immediately. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“That’s fine, I have something to say to you though.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, “you had plenty of opportunities in the past to say something. It’s too late, excuse us.”

Ran was faster and blocked her from entering her apartment building. “We can do this the nice way, Y/n, or I can take you kicking and screaming, you pick.”

She flinched at his threat. Though he has never done anything to make her fear him that didn’t mean she didn’t harbor any fear for this man at all. She knew of some of the things he’s done and is responsible for, knew what he could do to anyone with the snap of his fingers.

.

Ran has only been in her apartment a handful of times. Most of the time, she was at his place.

Y/n was normally a clean and tidy person but her place was cluttered with toys and baby items.

He watched her carefully lift the baby out of the stroller, cooing gently and rocking her back to sleep but being disturbed, the baby began to fuss.

“It’s okay,” Y/n repeated quietly but the baby’s cry only increased. She looked at Ran before excusing herself, “let me go nurse her, I’ll be back.”

Ran nodded dumbfounded. His cheeks flushed as he imagined Y/n nursing their daughter, suckling from her tits just as he had once done.

Y/n returned with their daughter wide awake. Fuyumi stared intensely at Ran as he stood up from the couch and approached them. Being 6’2, he towered over the both of them put together. “She’s beautiful… like you.”

Ran was mesmerized staring into the same colored eyes as his own, his flesh, his DNA… his daughter.

Y/n cleared her throat, “talk.”

He had rehearsed what he would say to her the day he got the opportunity, and this was his one chance to explain himself with an ounce of hope that he could turn the tables. “I’m sorry,” he said genuinely. “I am sorry for my past actions, how it hurt not only you but our daughter as well.” He inhaled softly, “my actions hurt me too. But I can promise you, there has not been anyone. I had only kissed that woman that night to force you to end your connection with me and that was the stupidest decision I’ve ever made.”

“Yeah it was,” Y/n snapped, “I don’t need your apology now, neither does my daughter too.”

Her anger was expected, just as long as she didn’t hate him.

“I know you don’t need it, but I want to give it anyway. If you want to throw it away, that’s your decision.” He had to play his next card right. “Can –  I explain myself?”

She has never seen Ran vulnerable like this and she almost believes it’s genuine. “Fine, have a seat then,” she pointed to the spot he was sitting moments ago.

He listened obediently, watching her take a seat on the floor with their daughter. He wanted to sit near them but did not want to frustrate her. “It has always been you. As you know my job… my lifestyle isn’t exactly best fitted to become a father and I thought for the sake and safety of the both of you, it was the best decision to go our ways.” He placed both his palms on the coffee table. “That was another stupid decision and I regret it every single day. But there has never been anyone else, it’s only been you since the day I forced you to walk away.”

Y/n refused to make eye contact with him, only looking at her daughter and smiling at her.

Ran wasn’t sure she was even listening to him.

“Is that all?”

He shook his head, “no, I’ve been sending you money but you haven’t touched it and that made me frustrated so…” he swallowed the guilt. “I have someone secretly following you, he is tasked to protect you at all times, 24/7, and report to me about your daily activities… I’m sorry for invading your privacy and going behind your ba – “

“I know.”

“What?” his head snapped up, eyes wide as he stared into Y/n’s calm ones.

“I met him… K.”

His jaw dropped. “Mother fu –“ he stopped himself as his daughter turned her head to look at him right when he was about to swear. “I’m sorry, baby.” As if understanding him, she smiled brightly with a gummy smile. His heart nearly combusted.

“Don’t kill him,” Y/n looked at him with pleading eyes, “I caught him one day when I had pretended to have a stomachache. He was by my side instantly, confirming my suspicion. He didn’t reveal any information, but he answered my questions if I asked.” She looked away and reached for the toys her daughter was reaching for. “I had asked him not to tell you that I knew you assigned someone to watch over me. As much as I was hurt by you, it made me feel better knowing deep down, you cared even if it was a little bit.”

“Y/n…”

“So don’t kill him. He has become a friend to me.”

Ran wanted to kill him now knowing how close they’d become.

“Were you not curious how he was able to get such accurate details let alone photos of Fuyumi as if he was here in person?”

It all clicked in Ran’s head.

“I knew this guy was an expert at his job, just thought that this guy was just phenomenal at his job… only to discover he has become BFF with you.” His eyes drop to his daughter, “and my daughter too apparently.” He rests his elbow on his knees, covering his face. “God, I feel…” he sat up straight. “Y/n, I had all my shit planned out on what I want to tell you but I can’t remember sh – it. It. I can’t remember it now.” He stood up, walked around, and knelt before them, he grabbed Y/n by her shoulders. “Hit me all you want, be angry with me, and punish me for however long you want…” his hand shifts to cup her face. “Just don’t hate me and push me away.”

Y/n blinked dumbfoundedly, shocked at the Ran before her.

“I’ll do whatever you want, just… let me be part of your life again. And Yumi’s…” that was the name of his daughter’s photo album. “I may not have physically been there for you in the last months but K’s daily report made me feel as if I was. I will forever regret missing my daughter’s birth.”

Ran looked down when he felt something against his thigh. His daughter had pulled herself onto his lap. She looked up at him with curious eyes, almost admiring him. His gaze softened as he reached for her but froze, he looked up at Y/n, silently asking for permission.

“Yes, please…” Y/n had imagined if the day would come when Ran would hold their daughter.

Ran bit his lip, nervous, realizing he had never held a baby before, let alone been near one.

As if it was natural, he picked her up, holding her against his chest.

Y/n’s heart tightened watching them have a silent conversation. Ran’s smile softened as Fuyumi gently touched the Bonten insignia tattoo on his throat, her small fingers trying to grab at the design. A soft chuckle was elicited from Ran.

“You need to prove your worth to Yumi.”

Ran’s smile faded as he blinked at Y/n. “Yumi?” He repeated, “what… about you?”

Y/n broke eye contact, “you only need to work on your relationship with her.”

.

Ran visits his daughter almost every day and on the days that he could not, he would video-call her. He took pride in becoming one of her favorite humans. Her excitement when he walked through the door was all that Ran needed to make his day better.

“Hi Yumi!”

Hearing her father’s voice, the ten-month-old smiled brightly, flashing her solo tooth. She leaned against the coffee table, trying to reach for the TV controller that she loved more than her toys.

He picked up and spun her in the air, “did you have a good day?”

“Do you not see the bruise on the left side of her forehead?”

At Y/n’s words, Ran’s eyes widen seeing the new battle wound. “What did you fight today?”

“The TV stand and lost.”

“Losing is not in your blood, Yumi,” Ran scolded softly.

.

It was rare that Y/n would call him.

Especially when it was 3 AM.

“Y/n?”

“Ran, Yumi is running a fever and won’t go down. I – I need you to take us to the hospital.”

He was already pulling his pants on, “I’m on my way.”

Everything was a blur. He reached the hospital and barked for the nurses to look at his daughter. She was immediately taken away from Y/n’s arms and taken into a restricted area.

At that moment, Y/n turned to Ran, his arms wrapped tightly around her body. “It’ll be okay, she’ll be okay.”

.

Two days in the hospital passed by before they could finally head home. Yumi’s cheerful personality had fully returned.

During that time in the hospital, Ran stayed right beside them, only leaving to change and shower and would return. The first night, Yumi struggled and only slept well in the arms of her dad.

The image of Ran sleeping in the recliner with Yumi snoozing against his chest would forever be itched in Y/n’s mind.

“Home sweet home,” Ran sang, walking into the apartment. “Do you miss your toys?”

Y/n smiled, setting down their belongings. “Can you keep her busy while I put this stuff away?”

“Go for it,” Ran answered softly with a smile.

She returned fifteen minutes later and found that Ran had put Yumi down for her nap. She cuddles in the crook of Ran’s long arms.

Feeling her presence, he looked up and smiled and whispered, “she was playing when I noticed her head started to bob and she almost rolled over.”

Y/n smiled and whispered, “do you want to put her down?”

Slowly, Ran followed her to the nursery and set her down easily. When he turned around, Y/n was already gone from the room.

He found her in the living room, seated on the couch with her face covered in her hands. “Y/n?” When she looked up, her tear-streaked face had Ran kneeling in front of her in seconds. “What’s wrong? Why – why are crying?”

She surprised him when her arms wrapped around his neck, “I don’t know what to do without you.”

Ran sighed, relaxing in her embrace. He wrapped his arms around her waist. “It’s the same for me too, I don’t know what to do without you or Yumi.”

After a long pause, he couldn’t believe his ears when he heard her ask, “will you come back to us?”

He pulled away from her and gazed into her glossy eyes, he smiled, “I think the real question is, will you come back to me?” He has already stolen the heart of his daughter, he just needs to earn her heart this time around.

She choked back a sob and wiped her tears, smiling. “Yes, I’ll come back to you.” She cups his face before pressing her lips against his. “I hated you but I love you too much.”

“You can hate me just as long as you love me more,” he kissed her passionately, nipping her lip. “God, I love you too. I missed you so much… I never want to be apart from you or Yumi again…”

“I won’t let you go, there’s no turning back.”

“Done, I’m yours. Just as you are mine, forever.”

They stumbled into her bedroom, quickly shredding their clothes.

“Ran,” Y/n gasped, feeling him thrust into her. “God – I missed you…”

“I missed you too,” he murmured, slowly thrusting into her.

In silence, they both exchange soft gasps and moans, reminding one another why it’ll never work out with anyone else.

Their lips crashed against each other, making up for the lost time as their body continued to move in sync.

“Ran,” Y/n’s nails dug into his shoulder, “I’m so close… please… please let me cum…”

His lips pressed against her throat, teeth grazing against the skin. “Same – cum Y/n…”

Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist and her arms tightened around his neck, “ah – ha… Ran!”

His hips tremble as he cums, filling her womb.

Ran buried his face in the valley of her breasts, “I – I’m sorry… I forgot a condom…” It was Y/n’s laughter that he lifted his head, blinking at her in confusion.

She runs a hand through his lilac-streaked hair, “if you impregnate me again, please just be with me this time around.”

He tugs her wrist and presses a kiss to her palm. “Promise.”

E/n: Sweet daddy Ran is something else.

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>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

[deliciousbasementtrash]

Playing Nurse for the Batfam

From Injustice Gods Among Us Year 5 #15

Summary: you are a nurse working for Gotham General Hospital. Batman has offered you a job. Will you take it?

Pairing: Slowburn Jason Todd x reader, (maybe a why choose with Dick Grayson as well?? Idk tell me what you guys want)

Warning: Adult language, parental abuse, parental neglect

Word Count: 1.6k

Note: These characters are not my own they belong to DC. The only character that is 'mine' is the reader. I am going to be as nondescript as possible for the reader as well for physical attributes. This is a continuation series; I’m not sure how long it will be. Also for some reason, my replies to comments are not showing up. I’m not ignoring your comments Tumblr won’t let me respond :( But please, please comment I live for it 

Part One, Part Two

Part Three: Skip-Bo and Chess

My mind raced as I went over the contract. Everything seemed too simple, too easy. The only terms and conditions I had to abide by were that I wouldn’t reveal his identity and that I would need to essentially be on call from the hours of 21:00 to 7:00, but roughly 24/7. The pay was a ridiculous amount. The insurance was crazy good. I didn’t realize it was possible to get that much coverage. But this went against everything I have represented in my life. Would I be betraying the people of Gotham, my patients, and my fellow coworkers, by taking this job? Would I be betraying myself and my past history? 

Gotham City: 16 Years Ago 

My father and I stood over my mother’s grave. It was strange. My mom was a woman who breathed life into everything. She never wore a dull color, she danced whenever she could, and she sang horribly and off tune. She wore her hair in two long braids with colorful ribbons. She wore sweet perfume. She wore red lipstick. She wore so many necklaces and bracelets she jingled when she walked. She snorted when she laughed. And now when I looked at her all I saw was dirt and a gravestone. Her colorfulness, her loudness, her laughter, her joy, all of it was gone. I knew I couldn’t cry though. Not in front of Dad. He got so much meaner when I did. Sometimes I wonder what my beautiful, colorful, caring mother saw in this cruel bleak man. But I guess his bitterness was supposed to balance out her sweetness. 

But without her, it felt like I was choking on the disgusting taste of my reality. We were grieving. We had no money. And the debt just seemed to be getting deeper and deeper. I tried selling homemade cookies at school to help out. I raised about 22 dollars. I came home with a smile on my face and handed my father the money. He pocketed it without another word. It was almost worse when he was like this.

It felt like he was a teapot that was brewing and I was just waiting for the wrong thing to set him off. 

Some days when I came home from school he was home. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t look at me. Other days he wasn’t there. I had to scavenge the house for food or walk to the convenience store with what little money I had scurried away. 

It felt like my life had become black and white without my mom. Everything seemed so hopelessly bad. Then one day my dad came home with a smile on his face. My first instinct was to tense my body and avert my gaze. I didn’t know what he was going to do. 

“Sweetie, come with me. I have an idea,” my father said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me out the door with him. 

He drove like a maniac and pulled up towards a seemingly abandoned building. My blood ran cold with anticipation. 

My father practically ripped me out of the car and dragged me inside. Inside there were about twenty men all pretty beat up. All of them looked at me. I picked at my hangnails and looked at my father. 

“Y/n, these gentlemen need to be healed. Be a doll and heal them.” My father’s words were clipped, and my pulse raced. I merely nodded and healed man after man. It became clear to me, even at my young age, that these men were a part of a gang. Who’s? I had no idea. 

That was until a fat man in a tuxedo and a cane walked up to my father. He handed him a bundle of cash, they whispered some hurried words and the grotesque man leaned down towards me.

His short fat finger booped my nose, and the man tilted his head back and laughed at my reaction. I wanted to bite his finger off. I wanted to go home. I wanted my mom. 

For the next two years, my father did business with anyone that could pay him. Our life went from living by the penny to living in luxury. All due to my power. The richest of the rich, politicians, businessmen, criminals, and villains, all used my services. And eventually, they tried to buy me. 

That’s when I decided to run away. Or die trying.

Gotham City: Present Day 

I sat across from Sam, my best friend, and nurse colleague. “What do you think I should do?” She was the only one that I trusted enough to tell everything to. Of course, I left out the whole, ‘My boss would be Batman thing.’ 

“Girl, if you don’t take this job I will kill you,” Sam said, taking a large bite of her pasta. 

“Do you think I’m betraying my younger self? I promised I would never be bought. I would never work for a corrupt man.” 

“Maybe you should discuss with Mr. Wayne, that you would like to remain a nurse part-time. That way you ease your conscious about everything but still live in a fucking MANSION and make BANK, you dummy head. And this way you’re reclaiming your past. You get to choose. You’re not trapped.” 

I mindlessly pushed my food around my plate, lost in thought. “That’s not a terrible idea.” 

“Of course not, I never have bad ideas. Take one more night to think about it. But I think you have your answer.” 

That night I tossed and turned in my bed. I grabbed my phone, the bright screen making me blink. 

[I accept your terms, but I do have a few remediations to the contract. Signed, y/f/n y/l/n.] 

One week later. 

 “How are you taking to your new living situation, Miss y/l/n?” Alfred asked as he expertly julienned an onion. I not as gracefully diced several cloves of garlic across from him. 

I looked up at him, smiling, “I’m still getting used to it, to be honest.” It had become a silent routine over the past week. When I wasn’t working at the hospital, or patching up Batman, I got bored. So, I started helping Alfred with cooking. 

He taught me how to play chess. I taught him how to play Skip-Bo and dominos. I had grown quite fond of the man over the short period. It most definitely was my daddy issues clinging to the first nice man I saw. But Alfred Pennyworth seemed truly kind to me. 

I hadn’t met any other members of Bruce’s family, but supposedly they were all meeting for dinner tonight. For some reason, my pulse spiked at the thought of meeting them. My past gave me anxiety when meeting new people I didn’t know. 

As if reading my thoughts Alfred asked, “How are you feeling about meeting everyone tonight?”

I cut a piece of garlic a bit harshly, “I’m– I’m fine. Do you know if I am to meet them after the dinner or before?”

Alfred’s eyebrows quirked, “What do you mean? You most probably will meet them at dinner. You are attending are you not?”

“I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to eat with the family or not,” I stated, hesitantly. 

I heard a twang of metal as Alfred set down his knife. He gave me his full attention as he said, “Master Wayne may seem abrasive, Miss. But I assure you, he would never have to eat separately unless that is what you wished.” 

Abrasive was one way to put it. He often reminded me of a feral cat when I tried to heal him. He would practically hiss that he was fine. I had to politely remind my employer a few times that this was what I was here for and to let me heal him. 

We cooked in silence for a while, when out of the blue I asked Alfred, “Alfred, are you happy?”

Alfred always holding his poise answered calmly, “Happiness is something that fluctuates in my life, Miss. I will say that knowing that Master Wayne and the rest of the family are in your capable hands is reassuring me as of late. I also have been enjoying your company, no matter how many times you beat me in Skip-Bo.”

I laughed, a true genuine laugh. “Hey, you win every time we play chess!”

Alfred smiled softly, “Miss I have been playing chess since I was five years old. If I lost I think I would have to revoke my Englishmanship.” 

After my laughter died down, another question popped in my head, “What are they like? Mr. Wayne’s family?”

Alfred smiled, “Those children are loud, argumentative, loyal, funny, stubborn, etc. I love those children with everything I am. You will too, Miss y/l/n.”

An unfamiliar sense of warmth bloomed in my chest, “Thank you, Alfred.”

“Thank you, Miss y/l/n.”

As I was getting dressed. I could not pick out what I wanted to wear. Did I want to go casual with a tee shirt and jeans? A bit more formal with a dress? Semi-casual with a skirt and sweater? I decided on the last one, with some tights on underneath. I wanted to make a good impression. It felt like the first day of school. I made my way down the stairs. No one had arrived yet. I took a seat next to Alfred, my leg bouncing. 

Alfred patted my shoulder when we heard the door open, “It will be just fine.” 

The loud oncoming footsteps mimicked my thundering pulse.

[cinellieroll]

☆ random aot headcanons!

eren, armin, mikasa, sasha, connie <3

cw: modern au, slight angst but nothing too graphic. there might be grammar errors too bc fuck proofreading honestly

small note: so the reason why i took so long to post is because i had to do a lot of things and my old draft got fucking DELETED and that affected my motiviation to write so...im so sorry 😭

armin:

- during armins childhood he used to be scared of dogs until he came over eren's house often. his fear of dogs eventually disappeared. (i hc that erens family had a dog that time and its a german shepherd)

- armin has had his own small shelf of books ever since he was a baby! he got his bookwork attitude from his father.

- meanwhile he got his manipulating skills from his mama (and no i don't mean this in a bad way. armins mom is a girlboss.)

- went to church every sunday when he was young till his early teens. eventually stopped because he became more and more devoted in school.

- every year he looks forward to vacations the most because thats where he gets to visit his other relatives in the province! they live nearby the ocean and armin always receives trinkets and seashells from them.

- if you ever get to live with armin expect a lot of magnets on the fridge. especially if they're beach related like seashells, squids and fish!

- always has chapstick everywhere he goes especially in school because he has a bad habit of biting on the skin on his lips.

- loaded with stationery bro like you name it, he has it

- he's kind of a picky eater and also has a few allergies like shrimp or a specific fish.

eren:

- had a lot of game merch as a kid. minecraft, fortnite, etc. you name it, he has it.

- very much a computer addict during his teenage years. his parents constantly scolded him for it and they eventually got tired of scolding him lmao

- has been sent to the guidance quite many times because of his recklessness. like every fucking school year you'll hear my boy in the guidance.

- the fact that jean has teased him way too many times because of it doesn't help

- one of those bitches who turns their pfp into a black screen and posts on his story "hiatus." then comes back the next day

- mikasa was mainly the one who taught him to drive, including levi

- road rage thats all im sayin

- during elementary and highschool there's never a day where he doesn't fall asleep in class. usually falls asleep in math or history

- always compares heights with mikasa to sew if he finally grew taller than her

mikasa:

- entered her goth phase once she reached highschool

- from other peoples perspective, they'd think miksasa would be a smoker but in truth she actually hates it. one of her main priorities are self care after all

- very strict with her work out routine. she can't miss a day of it unless it's her cheat day

- her cheat day is like once every 3 months bro

- but it's good for you because she lets you join her. if you're lucky she'll let you sit on your back while she does push ups ;)

- joined jujitsu and taekwando with eren when they were younger

- started walking to school by her own or with eren and armin when she turned 15

- always rolls her eyes or side eye people unintentionally

- very protective of her girl friends. if you're close enough with her she'll always accompany you everywhere like how she does with eren. she's constantly asking where you are on weekends and on school days she'll be waiting for you outside your classroom breaks.

sasha:

- enjoys and i mean ENJOYS going to the mall and always look forward to cinemas. she'll invite all her friends for a good movie date!

- her favorite genre is horro and likes to watch conjuring with connie.

- her favorite color is purple and yellow!

- another one who falls asleep in class alongside connie

- after school convenience store hangoutd are very common when you're friends with her!

- if you're in a friend group with her and you feel left out, she'll most likely be the one to notice.

- no worries, she'll make you feel right at home!

- (istg this is the reason why ppl cry over her death i lub her sm..)

- very loud and obnoxious laughs but its okay because it's sasha

connie:

- is a basketball varsity student! to be honest he likes every sport where he gets to run and jump alot because it "fuels" something inside of him

- no school items whatsoever like he lost all of them after a month. he prays for the best and just picks up pens and pencils on the ground.

- always does bets with his friends. usually consists of who will treat everyone free food after school

- likes banana icecream / popsicles. like the ones where you peel it and stuff. also a slurpee lover. dude he just buys anything he finds delicious in the store

- sings out loud in the hallways when he's in an especially good mood. bro he got scoldes by the teachers once

- mainly teases jean out of all his friends but i feel like thats already canon

- HE DOES THAT THING THAT OLDER BROTHERS DO WHERE THEY BLOCK YOU AND DO A BASKETBALL MOVE ISTG ITS INFURIATINGGGGG

- also glides his hand on the ceilings when he gets the chance

- his bag smells like ass

[kkyaka]

Summary: Shinsou Hitoshi, a vigilante with the goal of exposing the corruption of the hero world, meets you, and that causes tornado of events that spins your life around

Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi x black!fem!reader

Word Count: 27, 459 (i'm so sorry)

Warnings: vigilante!shinsou, stripper!reader, miruko is reader's boss, reader's followed by a man briefly in the beginning, some innuendos, reader's quirk is half and half, kind of a slow burn if you squint, mentions of shindou x reader, lot of sexual tension in the beginning between reader and shinsou, mentions of blood and injuries, reader's father is a pro hero but didn't treat her or her mother well, lots of kissing, strip tease, usage of weed, orgasms under the influence of weed, so much smut LMFAO, shinsou gets hit with an aphrodisiac (everything is consensual), groping, fingering (f), oral (f + m), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, unprotected sex, grinding, 69ing, reader has a confrontation with her father, shinsou knocks out reader's father, shinsou's really big and hairy LMFAO, little bit of an argument between shindou and reader, deku makes and appearance, bakusquad works with shinsou, canon divergent kinda (takes place after the Paranormal Liberation Arc), mentions of things being blown up, lots of angst at the end with a happy ending (*sighs* i think that's it, if I missed anything let me know!)

A/N: Another long one boys, so sorry about that. Another favorite of mine lmfao, and I was also ridiculously horny while I was writing this LMFAO, so yeah. Thank you for reading if you can make it through this long ass fic, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

You yawn loudly as you step out of the building, shoving your hands in your jacket pockets as you walk. You finished later than you wanted, but money needs to be made, so you're leaving a little after two in the morning. The moon and streetlights allows for enough light so that you can see pretty far ahead of you. You wonder if you should hit up the convenience store on your way home for some food, and you briefly falter when you hear footsteps behind you.

You roll your eyes, wondering why this night, in particular, might be the one where you're fighting for your life. You don't let the person behind you know that you've heard them, but you need to figure out what to do quickly because you don't want to lead them to your house. It's practically a straight shot from where you work, but you don't want to risk them following you home another night.

An alley's coming up, and you hope that you can catch the person off-guard. You can hear their footsteps speed up once you make it about halfway down the alley and right as they try to break out into a sprint toward you, you quickly turn around, activating your quirk out of your hands. The force throws them against the wall, and you immediately harden it, keeping them against the wall.

You groan loudly in annoyance when you finally see who it is even though their face is just barely lit by the streetlight. "We've told you about this, Kenji," you sigh. You know this man all too well, and the fact that you've caught him again makes you sick. He has a history of harassing the women that you work with, even following them home. Mirko is very aware of his behavior, at first banning him from any private shows, but then she quickly banned him altogether.

Of course, that didn't seem to stop him, but there was only so much she could do. You've always been able to stop him, but some of your friends don't have the best luck, so they always go home together. "You know I don't mean any harm," he tries, but you don't believe his bullshit.

"I'm not fucking stupid. You're following me home, you fucking creep." You grab your phone, wondering if you should even try and call for someone to get him. Once most of them figure out what you do for work, the judgmental looks start, and they become either less willing to help or more willing for a price. It's a lose-lose, and you're about to just walk away when you hear something hit the ground right next to you.

You lift your arms up, getting ready to shoot them as well, but something's wrapped around your arms before you can even shoot. They're suddenly tied together, and you struggle against the restraints. "Relax, sweetheart. I'm not gonna hurt you."

You don't back down right away, only calming down as he slowly walks toward you. He immediately lets go of your arms, pulling the wraps back to him, and you can see they're sitting around his neck. "Can I help you?" you wonder. You can only see his eyes, his head covered with a hood and his face covered with some mask.

"It seemed like this guy was bothering you." You raise an eyebrow at him. "But you clearly have everything under control."

"So, why are you here?" you question, putting your hand on your hip. "Matter of fact, where did you come from?"

"I can take care of him for you," he says, ignoring your question as he steps toward you. You back up a little, and he's gently pushing you out of the alley. "How am I supposed to get him out of this?" You squint at him, but release the guy from the wall, the material turning into a kind of liquid.

Kenji tries to run for you, but the mystery man wraps him up before he can even get away from the wall. "Give me a second yeah?" he tells you, and he throws him over his shoulder before he scales the side of the wall, disappearing into the dark roof.

You stand there, looking at the now empty alley for a couple of seconds before you shake your head, throwing your hands up. You just want to go home. You're too tired for any of this. You continue your journey home, not even wanting to process the events that just happened until you're home in your bed.

"You're still going to try and walk home alone?" You hear the familiar voice, but it's definitely not coming from in front or behind you. You look around before you look up, seeing him crouching on the corner of the top of a building. He jumps down once you locate him, stopping in front of you, and now that you're back on the street, you can see the color of his eyes.

"I've dealt with him before, and I can handle myself." You continue walking, and he falls into step right next to you. "He'll probably be back anyway."

"You don't have to worry about him anymore."

You look over him as you walk. "And how are you so confident in that?"

"Trust me. He won't be bothering you anymore."

"You're telling me to trust a stranger?" you jest, and even though you can't see the lower half of his face, the way the skin around his eyes crinkle tells you that he's got some version of a smile on his face.

"You can trust this stranger," he counters, placing his hand on his chest.

"So, what brings you out here at this time of night, stranger?" you ask playfully.

"It's a secret," he answers, lowering his voice a little as he leans down to talk to you. "But I could be asking you the same thing," he continues as he stands straight up again.

"I'm getting off work, and don't bother asking what I do," you immediately add, not wanting to go through that conversation right now.

"Noted," he says. "Where you headed?" he asks after the both of you are silent after a while.

"Heading home." You look ahead before you look at him. "How do I know you're not a threat or something?"

"Wouldn't I have done something already if I was?"

"Maybe you're trying to see where I live, or maybe you're just trying to get my guard down," you claim, and he stops walking when you do. "And I don't trust you enough to show you where I live."

"Until next time then."

"What makes you so sure there'll be a next time?" He just gives you a shrug before he starts walking the opposite way, backtracking. You watch him until he disappears, and you shake your head again before you start walking to your apartment.

"So, he walked you home? Was he really attractive?" You shake your head as you laugh, finishing up your makeup. Amina was one of the first people you met here, and she's been your best friend ever since. You both come from a similar childhood, so it's nice to have someone that can understand what you've gone through.

"I couldn't even see his face," you say. "And he didn't walk me to my door exactly. He might've helped me, but I wasn't gonna let him see where I live."

"And what about that creep? Is he really not gonna bother us anymore?"

"Dunno," you answer with a shrug. "I guess we'll just have to see."

The night goes smoothly without any hitches, and it starts to feel monotonous after a while. You've been doing this for a couple of years, and sometimes you want to divert on a different path, but there's a part of you that likes the repetition. It gives you a sense of security that you know what you're going to do throughout the day.

Honestly, you never really had an idea of what you wanted to do when you grew up because your father already had a path made for you before you were even born. It didn't take you long to see how corrupt the hero society actually was, especially since you were at the hands of it at such an early age. Your dad didn't treat you or your mother right, and she ended up leaving once she could.

You knew that she would've taken you with her if she could, but you don't blame her for getting out of there as soon as possible. Your dad ran you into the ground with training day after day, trying to solidify your abilities to use your quirk. The entire time though, you were plotting how you were going to escape from this. Once you finally turned eighteen, you just left. You were still in contact with your mother, but you didn't tell her that you were leaving so suddenly.

She wasn't anywhere near home anymore, so there was no way she could come get you. You were couch hopping for a couple of years, some of your friends had their own places you could crash at, and you worked odd jobs here and there. But that couldn't last long, and Mirko was suddenly picking you up before you could end up on the wrong side of the street.

She gave you work and a place to call home, which took you a little bit to get used to, but the friendships you created made it so much smoother. Your dad had been looking for you for a while, but then you never heard anything from him again. With him being in the top twenty pro-heroes, you always heard about him on TV or in the news, but you didn't think twice about it. He went on pretending that you didn't exist, treating you like a mistake since you didn't become the hero that he wanted you to be.

This obviously isn't where you saw yourself, but it gives you a powerful feeling that you didn't have when you were still with your dad. And your apartment is actually a really nice set-up, and you're making money. If anything, you're glad that Mirko found you when she did, and she also goes to lengths to make sure you and your friends are protected at work as well.

Private shows are always a little unsettling especially when the person is treading the line of being weird or off-putting. With your quirk, you could try and stop a situation from escalating, but if you're not fast enough, it could do from bad to worse in a second. There are no cameras in the rooms, but you all wear a necklace that detects sudden movements or if your heart rate begins to rise suddenly, and if you can manage, there's a button on it that immediately alerts the bouncers if there's something wrong.

Sadly, all of you have had to use it on more than one occasion, but you know that you'll never see that person again and that they won't harm any of you again. You all usually get breaks for as long as you want if something like that does happen and even if it doesn't. If you just need a break, Mirko is always understanding, and you've taken them on more than one occasion, especially when you first started working.

You finish the night with ease, and you decide to shower in your dressing room before you head home. You stuff all of your tips in your bag once you're done and dressed, checking in with Mirko before you head out of the back door. "You sure you don't want me to walk you home?" Shindou asks once you step outside.

You shake your head as you chuckle. "I'm sure. I can handle myself, I promise."

"Let me know when you get home, okay?" he relents, and you give him a nod before you walk off.

The walk isn't long, but you still check your surroundings as you walk, making sure you're keeping track of everything you're hearing. It doesn't take you long to feel like you're being watched, and you finally stop walking, looking up and turning in a circle as you look in the direction of the rooftops.

Something falls behind you, and you lazily turn around. "This kinda feels like stalking," you muse, letting your head fall to the side as the mystery man walks closer to you.

"I'm just making sure nothing happens to you on the way home," he replies with an easy shrug, and you turn around to continue towards your apartment as he walks with you.

"Really? You sure you don't have any ulterior motives?"

"Even if I said I didn't, you probably still wouldn't believe me." You look over him, realizing that his shoulders are no longer covered, and it really shows you how big he is.

"What happened to your...?" you trail off, circling your finger around his neck and chest area.

"I don't need it tonight." He holds out his hands. "Wanted to show you that I really mean you no harm."

You hum, squinting a bit before you ask him another question. "So, what's your deal? You trying be like that vigilante dude or something?" He laughs loudly at that, and you can't help but smile at the sound.

"I'm actually really good friends with him. I help him out sometimes."

"Really now? So, what's he like?"

"Some people that work with him thinks he's too laid back, and kind of an asshole."

You snort. "I can't say I'm surprised. My friend would be happy though, she's always going for the assholes."

"He's got a fanbase, huh?"

"I think the mask concealing his identity is what's really doing people in."

"Does the mask do something for you?" he asks, and the both of you stop walking, turning to face each other. You hear a hint of curiosity in his voice as you look into his eyes, the only thing beside his forehead that isn't covered. You stare at him for a bit, and he doesn't look away, his gaze strong.

"I'm honestly more interested in the guy behind it."

"Yeah?" You nod quickly, biting your lip to conceal your smile before you continue walking. You giggle a bit as you look over your shoulder since he hasn't started walking and before you can even turn your head back, you can hear his footsteps gaining on you.

Neither of you pick up the conversation after that, but the silence is filled with a certain kind of tension that quickly appears. It's not too long until you reach your place, and you stop in front of your building, spinning on your heel to face him. He looks over the building before he looks down at you, pointing towards it.

"Didn't take you long to show this stranger where you live," he jests, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Well," you hum, shrugging your shoulders. "You're defenseless this time, and I'm pretty confident I can take you."

"In a fight, or...?" You can tell he's wearing a smug smile on his face even though you can't even see it.

You him softly, a smile pulling at the corner of your lips. "What're you trying to say, stranger?" you question, stepping closer to him as you cross your arms.

"Nothing," he responds. "I'm just clarifying."

"Really?" you hum. You walk backward towards your building, and he stays right there, watching you walk towards the door. "Third floor. Three twenty-one," you tell him before you open the door. "See ya around."

You haven't seen the mystery man in a while, and you're not really surprised since you've been watching the news. No one knows a lot about the vigilante because he's so good at covering his tracks. Some people speculate that he's working with other people; you don't really care to know, but you do know that he's making the pro-heroes nervous.

His specialty is exposing the heroes that are corrupt. He's somehow able to get access to things that gives him so much power. He's stated before that he wants to show people how corrupt the hero society is, and you have nothing bad to say about that because you know how corrupt it is, and what it can do to people. You and your mother have seen it first hand.

You shake off those thoughts as you walk home. Even though you can walk home by yourself, you find yourself wondering if he'll jump down from a building or magically appear next to you. You try to tell yourself that you are not disappointed that you didn't see him. You walk into your apartment, deciding to watch your favorite show to unwind and get him off your mind.

You throw your keys on the counter before turning one of your lamps on, and you nearly scream when you see a familiar face laying in the middle of your floor. "Can I help you?" you ask, walking over to him, and your face falls when you see him holding his side. Once you get to him, you realize he's bleeding, and you're quick to crouch down to him.

"Sorry, I didn't come sooner," he tries to joke, but when he laughs, he winces.

"What the hell happened? Why didn't you go to a fucking doctor?" you ask, pulling his hand away to look at the damage.

"It's not that bad," he tells you, and at least he's right about that. You sigh when you see that it just looks like a graze that cut just a little too deep. "Got into it with someone who was not happy that their secrets were out."

"Yeah, I saw that on the news," you say as you stand to get some things to clean his wounds. "Also, if there's blood on the floor, you're cleaning it up!" you shout from the bathroom, and he winces as he sits up to shed his shirt.

"Sure thing," he answers after laying back down and closing his eyes as he listens to you rummaging in the bathroom. He slowly opens his eyes when he hears you walking back to him, and you sit down on the floor with everything you need. He winces as you clean the wound before treating it and neither of says a word. You're mostly not talking because you're trying so hard not to focus on how ripped he is. You didn't expect him to be so hairy.

Your eyes gloss over the plane of abs he has, and you try not to let your hands linger too long on his skin. He's got tattoos covering his arms, and you look over them as you clean his wounds, but you don't ask about them. When you're done, you activate your quirk, putting a little on the wound, and he lifts his head to see what you're doing.

"What's this for?"

"It'll speed up the healing process," you inform, holding your hand out to help him sit up. He groans in pain as he lifts himself up.

"A healing quirk, huh? And you asked me why I didn't go to a hospital," he muses.

"Yeah, yeah. Just keep an eye on it," you tell him before you gather everything and bring it back to the bathroom.

"So, you can heal and trap people against the wall?" he asks, referencing when you first met. You sit down on the couch, and he follows suit, leaving a cushion in between the two of you.

"Basically," you sigh. "I don't really have a term for the material that I can make, but I can harden it and loosen it as much as it wants. I just have to be careful because I can also poison people as well." You smirk when you see him tense, and a laugh bubbles out of your chest. "Don't worry. I have to have really, really bad thoughts about the person for that to happen. So, you're in the clear."

He rests his back against the couch, letting his head fall back, sighing heavily. You don't say anything, but you keep your eyes on him, having a bunch of questions running through your mind. "I know you got questions, so ask away," he says, not even opening his eyes when he speaks.

"How do you even manage to find out all of this stuff?" you ask, and a smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

"They suck at covering their tracks," he answers. "You'd be surprised at how easy is it to find out about stuff like that." You don't respond, turning your head to look at the floor. "Is there where you try to talk me out of what I'm doing?" he questions after you're silent for a bit. You look up to see that his eyes are open and his head is turned toward you.

"No," you answer, copying his position before relaxing on the couch. "Just thinking that I wish you were around a long time ago."

"One of your parents?" he asks softly, and you nod your head as you look at the ceiling.

"I'm only here because my dad couldn't be what he wanted," you whisper. "The shit he put my mom and me through," you continue sadly. "Maybe if someone was doing what you were doing, we wouldn't have been in that hellhole for as long as we were."

"Can still do it," he offers, and you can't help it when a big smile forms on your face. You look over at him to see that he's smiling with you. "Better late than never."

"Yeah," you hum. "He's a suck-ass hero anyway."

"Doesn't mean you can't rub salt in the wound."

"Maybe one day," you respond before you let the silence fall between the two of you.

"I'll put in a word to boss man," he says softly, and you chuckle as you shake your head. "What?"

"I know you're the ring leader, mystery man," you respond, looking at him. "The cliche, "I'm friends with him" bit is so predictable," you tell him lightly.

"Was wondering how long it was gonna take you," he says. "I bet nothing gets past you, huh?"

"It tears my friend up that I can see through her lies," you laugh, and he quietly copies it. You stand shortly after, pointing towards the kitchen. "You want some food? You probably need it."

He grunts when he shifts. "You don't have to do that, I'll be fine." You roll your eyes before you walk away.

"I bet the people you work with get tired of how stubborn you are."

You smile when you hear him laugh before he winces. "They might get a little annoyed."

You don't fix anything fancy, just enough for him to get his energy back. You both eat quietly, the silence welcoming for you since you went down a painful lane of memories, and he doesn't seem to mind either. You hear something in his pocket buzz once you're finishing up, and he takes the last bite of food before he rummages through his pocket as he pulls it out.

You grab your dishes taking them to the sink, and you put in the dishwasher as you hear the chair softly scrap across the floor. You turn around to see him walking towards you, and you lean against the counter as he gets into your space. "Thanks for patching me up," he tells you softly, a small pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"Of course, but maybe go see someone who's more qualified," you jab, returning the smile.

He laughs quietly. "I think you did a pretty good job, so I'll be back."

"Just for that?" you question, knowing he's catching on to what you really mean. He doesn't respond, only leaning down until he's right in front of your face. You hold your breath as your eyes search his face as his stay on your lips.

"Maybe," he whispers, and when he leans in, you follow, but just as he moves forward, he's backing away from you. It takes you a moment to collect yourself, and you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes when you see the smirk on his face. "I'll see you around," he says as he walks to your window, and you scoff softly, shaking your head as you finally roll your eyes.

You look back towards the window, expecting him to be gone, but you jump when you see that he's standing right in front of you again. You don't even have time to say anything, his lips softly touching yours in a kiss that's way too short for your liking. Just as he was there, he's gone, and you can't even register him leaving, the feeling of his lips on yours putting you in your own world.

You can't help but smile as you gently touch your lips with your fingers, and you chuckle a bit before you walk over to close the window.

You surprisingly don't have that many private shows tonight, only having two so far during your shift. You're not complaining on one hand because that means less work, but on the other hand, not as much money. You're walking out of your dressing room after fixing your makeup, getting ready to go back out when Miruko stops you in the hallway.

"I don't know who's in there, but someone paid a lot of money to see you," she tells you, and you frown softly as you stand in front of her.

"You don't know who it is?" you question.

She shakes her head. "He wanted to remain anonymous," she answers. "My bet is it's probably a hero who doesn't want his reputation tainted or something," she says with a roll of her eyes. "But if he does anything weird, you know the drill." You nod before she walks off towards her office, and you walk to the room you're supposed to be in, but you hesitate for a split second when you get to the door. You take a deep breath before you open the door, already starting to get into character.

You freeze when you close the door, seeing a familiar face sitting in the chair in the middle of the room. "What are you doing here?" you ask as you walk towards the one and only.

He shrugs as he leans back in the chair, his eyes heated as they look over your body. You slow your steps as you get closer to him, realizing that this is the most skin he's seen of you. "Dunno. Somehow just ended up here," he replies lazily, his focus on something else. He leans forward to try and touch you, but you stop him, softly wrapping your hands around his wrists.

"No touching," you tell him playfully, and he smirks as relaxes his arms a bit, and you let his arms go so you can turn on the music. When you turn around, his eyes are only focused on you, and you usually play it up a little bit more to get more tips, but you feel like you don't need to do that.

You walk slowly towards him, running your hands over your body once the music starts. He's leaning back in the chair again, and you sway your hips, letting your arms rest over his shoulders as you bend at the waist. He keeps his eyes on yours as you slide your arms over his shoulders, stepping closer to him until your lips almost touch.

You slowly work your way behind him, letting your arms slide down his torso, and you rub your hands over it, feeling his muscles through his shirt. "Y'know, I paid a lot of money to see you," he tells you quietly. His voice is barely audible over the music, and the only reason you were able to hear him is because of how close you are.

"I heard," you hum, letting your tongue gently run down his ear, and your smile widens when you feel him shudder just a bit against your arms. He turns to face you, and it takes everything in you to not lean in by just a hair and kiss him. You don't move, and when he starts to lean in, you quickly move away from him, pulling away from him entirely.

You bite your lip to hide your smile when it looks like he's frozen for a bit, and you walk back in front of him again. He follows you, and you turn around, rolling your hips in a way that makes your ass move. Your fingers slide in between your skin and the tiny shorts you're wearing, and you slowly start to pull them down, holding them as you slide them down your legs, revealing the clear thong you're wearing.

You bend over until they're at your feet, and you turn to the side slightly so you can look at him. His eyes barely cut to yours, focusing on your lower half. You slowly stand up straight, kicking them to the side before you carefully walk backward until you're right in front of him.

You bend over again, moving your hips side to side, and you nearly jump out of your skin when you feel his hands on your ass. You let them linger for longer than you should, but there's no part of you that doesn't want his hands off your skin. You grab his hands before you sit down on him, and you can't stop the gasp that comes out of you when you feel his bulge on your ass.

"No touching, remember?" you scold softly as you lean back against him, but he ignores you, running his hands over your tits before they travel down to your legs. He rubs over your thighs, and when you spread your legs just a bit, he moves them inside, closer to your center, and there's no way to ignore the throbbing that's happening in between your legs.

You're standing up again, but this time, you straddle his lap facing him. His hands run over your ass, and you push your chest into him. "What's a guy gotta do to get all this off?" he asks quietly, and you smile as you roll your hips to the rhythm of the music.

"Buy me whatever I want," you joke, and his slides his fingers under the strap of your thong. He starts to roll your hips for you, and you can't think when he grinds you right into his dick, and you bite your lip to try and fight the moan that was building up in your throat.

In your hazy state, you can feel one of his hands leave you, and you try to see what he's doing, but his lips suddenly touch your skin, and you melt into him even more. You let your head fall back to give him better access, and the soft kisses he plants over your neck is enough to drive you insane.

He says something against your skin, and even though it's muffled, you can tell that he's saying numbers. "What?" you breathe, and you let your head fall back to his level when he pulls away.

He repeats the numbers again as he slides his card into your bra. "Buy whatever you want," he tells you, and his hands slide up your back, on a mission to unhook your bra, but you're quick to stop him.

"Now, wouldn't this take all the fun outta this?" you tease, and he pushes you closer to him even though there's barely any space left in between you and him.

"What I have in mind is a lot more fun than this," he says against your lips, and then the music stops, so the only thing you can hear is how heavy the both of you are breathing.

"Really? Why don't you take me home then?" you question, and your fingers dig into his shoulders when he picks you before you've barely gotten your sentence out. He starts toward the door, and you're quick to slide out of his arms, opening the door and peeking your head out.

You check to make sure the coast is clear before you grab his hand and quickly make your way to your dressing room. "Wait outside for me," you tell him. "Use the back door," you add before you make your way inside, shutting the door softly.

He was the last person for your shift, so you're quick to put on your clothes and check in with Miruko before you make your way out of the back door. When you walk outside, you don't see him, and Shindou comes into view.

"You're leaving already?" he asks, and you nod as you start to walk away.

"Yeah, I'm done for tonight. I'll see you later." He tries to say something, but you're already walking away, wondering where the hell he went.

You're nearly at home, and you still haven't seen him yet. "You look eager." You turn around at the sound of his voice, and his eyes still look as hungry as they did at the club.

"And you aren't?" you bite back, and you start walking towards your building with him in tow. It's when you make it to your door that things don't go as planned. You both freeze when you hear that familiar buzz in his pocket, and the swear he releases is loud enough to echo in the quiet, empty hallway. You visibly deflate, neither of you saying a word, and you slide his card out from your bra.

"Keep it," he says when you try to hand it back to him.

"No," you respond, pressing into his chest. "You come back after you've bought me something." He smirks, grabbing your wrist as he crowds you against the door. He wraps his arms around you as he kisses you deeply, and you're glad that he's holding you because you're sure that you would've fallen because of weak your knees become.

You moan when he slides his tongue into your mouth, claiming every inch of your mouth as his. You wrap around arms around him when you hear the buzzing again. He groans against your mouth, giving you one last long kiss before he pulls away. Your breathing is heavy, and you know that your lips are swollen just like his.

"I'll be back." And you know that's a promise.

~

For some reason, you're still wired even though you swore you were tired when you were getting off work. You haven't seen mystery man in a while, and you're disappointed to say the least. You were so close to getting laid after the tension and been built up, and then the chance was ripped away from you in a second.

You try your best to shrug it off as you change into some comfortable clothes and fuzzy socks since it is pretty chilly outside and you're still a little cold. You don't have to work the next day, and you look at the clock on your stove to see that it's only one in the morning. You get off earlier than usual, and you don't have to go to work later in the night.

The first thing that comes to mind is weed. It'll definitely put you to sleep, so you decide to cook something because you get terrible munchies when you get high. You turn on some music, connecting to your phone to your speaker and playing it on a low volume.

You hum and swing your hips to music softly as you start cooking, completely engrossed in your own world. You're in the middle of stirring your pasta when something rasps at your window. You scream as you turn towards the window, jumping in place. You catch yourself on the counter as your eyes land on a familiar face, and he's sans mask this time, so you can see that he's laughing at you.

You groan loudly as you walk towards the window, unlocking it before sliding it open. "How ya doin', princess?"

"You are the worst," you sigh, stepping to the side to let him in. You walk back to the stove as you hear him step inside and close the window.

"You always scare that easily?" he teases, and you roll your eyes, but you can't help but smile.

"Of course, I don't. I'm in my comfort zone, in my own world right now, and you come out of nowhere."

"You weren't expecting me to show up?" he questions, sitting down at your island, and you don't answer right away because you don't know how to. Because not walking home with him kind of sucked, and you were disappointed to say the least. "You upset about me not walking with you tonight?" You wonder if his quirk has something to do with mind reading, and you tense a bit when you hear his words. "I'm sorry, baby, I got caught up with some shit."

"It's no big deal," you shrug. "You had stuff to do."

"I'll make it up to you." You've been looking at the pasta you've continued stirring, glancing at the clock to see how much time has passed since you starting cooking it. You haven't looked at him since he's sat down, and all you do is hum in response to his words. "Whatcha making?"

"Chicken alfredo." You grab a noodle out of the water, blowing on it to cool it off before you try it to see if it's soft enough. "I'm gonna smoke, and I get really bad munchies. Just preparing for the future." The pasta is to your liking, so you grab your oven mitts so you can move the pot off the eye before you start prepping to cook the chicken.

It already comes in the package, but sometimes you have to doctor it up a bit, and you set a pan on the eye, spraying it before putting your chicken in it. You strain your pasta water, shaking it just a bit to make sure the majority of the water is out. "Is this what you always wear when you're home?" he asks lowly, and your movements slow a bit as you realize that you're not really wearing anything.

You have your apartment pretty warm right now since your cooking, so you're completely comfortable in your thin camisole and shorts that barely cover your ass. As you move the pasta back to the stove, you don't even have to look at him to know that's starting hard at you. "I like to be comfortable," you chuckle with a shrug. All he does is hum, and you feel yourself growing warm, but you continue to focus on finishing your food.

You grab the alfredo sauce from the fridge as you try to keep yourself calm. As you start to finish up, your thoughts drift to how long it's been since you've had sex. Really good sex. And it's been more than a while, and it would honestly be the icing on the cake right now after what happened that night. He stays quiet, but the tension in your apartment has changed and both of you know it.

You turn the oven on so your food can stay warm, and you know it won't be long until you're chowing down on it. You finally turn around to face him, and you can't control the inappropriate thoughts that fill your head as you look over him. His arms are resting on the island, and you don't remember them being that big. You stay silent as you walk towards your nightstand where you keep everything you're going to need.

"You staying?" you ask, holding up the remaining weed you have. He wordlessly answers as he stands up and walks towards you. He walks past you, and his scent alone is enough to make your knees weak. You're quick to stop him though when it looks like he's about to get on your bed. "You're insane if you think I'm gonna let you on my bed in those clothes," you say, pointing at what he's wearing.

You don't care how it sounds, but you will not let any dirt get onto your bed. He just smiles at you, and you turn around so that you can figure out if you have enough for two blunts or just one fat one. It looks like you're just gonna have to fit it in one, and when you're done rolling it, you turn around to see him laying against your headboard in nothing but his underwear.

He has his arms resting behind his head, and the sight stops you in your tracks. "What's wrong?" he asks, a big smirk on his face at your reaction. You ignore his jab, slowly getting on the bed on your knees. You copy his position, getting comfortable before you light the blunt. His eyes are on you as you take a hit before offering it to him. The music is the only thing filtering through the apartment as you start to relax and let the weed fill your system.

You eventually turn your head to the side as it starts to swim, and you're able to catch him blowing out the smoke. You definitely can't stop yourself from looking over him now that you're under the influence, and your eyes start from his neck and make their way down.

You still can't get over how hairy he is, and how he seems to be covered in it everywhere. His arms, his legs, his chest is just covered in dark hair. And you thought he was big in height. You honestly want nothing more than to run your hands over his body, seeing how small your hands are compared to him. Your eyes continue down, and you can feel arousal wetting your shorts when you can see what's in between his legs.

"My eyes are up here, sweet thing." Your eyes are slow to finally meet his, and you see that he's holding the blunt your way. You carefully take it from him before taking a long drag, both of you holding eye contact as you do. You shift a bit until your shoulder touches his arm and goosebumps immediately cover your skin.

You turn a bit towards him, and it seems like he knows what you're thinking, so he does the same. He's practically kissing you when you blow the smoke out, into his mouth, and you only focus on his body breathing it in. You feel a little lightheaded, and you think it's because you stopped breathing for a second. He inhales the smoke deeply before turning away from you to blow it out.

You're mesmerized, barely registering when he turns back to look at you. You forgot how horny weed makes you, and you're practically soaking your shorts right now. You don't know if you want to make a move or not, but as you both finish the blunt off, the tension only gets thicker. He lets you take the last hit, and you stamp the blunt out in your ash tray.

You haven't thought about eating because all you're focused on is him. "Are you ever gonna tell me your name?" you ask. "In my head, you're just mystery guy." He smiles softly at you when you giggle a bit. He hums quietly before he reaches for your leg furthest from him.

You frown a bit at his movements, but you don't fight against them, letting him move you until you're his lap. When you let your weight rest on him, you suddenly feel how hard he is, and you wonder how in the hell you missed that. You can't help but moan when you feel him throbbing against your core, and you don't know how you're going to focus on anything else.

You let your hands rest on his shoulders as his rest on your waist before they move to softly squeeze your ass. "Shinsou." He's watching you carefully, and you're about to respond to him but he grabs your ass again, pulling your shorts up higher to expose more of your skin. He grabs your ass again, this time spreading you open, and you gasp softly as you have a hard time keeping your eyes open.

"Is that all you're gonna give me?" you manage to ask even though you're so turned on right now it's starting to hurt.

"Maybe," he whispers, and you don't really think you'd care right about finding out the answer because his hands rubbing over you feel too good right now. He rolls your body towards him, effectively grinding you against him, and you gaze falls to his chest as another soft moan falls from you.

You can't help but let your hands slide down his shoulders and to his chest, rubbing over his skin just like you thought about doing earlier. Your hands follow the curve of his muscles, and you keep going until you reach his happy trail which you desperately want to keep following.

"Hitoshi."

"What?" you mumble, still zeroed in on his chest, and you can feel the vibrations of his chest when he talks.

"Shinsou Hitoshi is my full name," he answers, and you smile as you look up at him, finally happy to put a name to his face. You let yourself fall forward a bit as you wrap your arms around his neck, arching into him.

"I like the sound of that," you respond, your face inches from his.

"Sound even better if you're moaning it," he replies quickly, and you don't hesitate with your response.

"Well, you know how to make that happen." He hums at your words, and he's suddenly flipping you over, and the quick movement combined with the weed make your head spin. When it finally stops, your eyes focus on him above you.

"You still with me?" he asks you softly as he sets his legs on either side of yours. You nod quickly, softly grabbing his shoulders to pull him down to you. He easily moves, planting his lips on your for another hungry kiss that you can't seem to get enough of. You know that you're already soaking the fabric of your shorts, and kissing him only makes you even more wet.

You guide his hands to your body, and he quickly follows through, running his hands under your tank top, and you arch into his touch. His fingers feel like they're burning a path into your skin, and you can feel yourself starting to get warmer. You spread your legs as far as you can when he starts to move down towards your shorts, and you lift your hips so that he can pull them off with ease.

He pulls away to look in between your legs, and he groans quietly. "All of this for me?" he asks as he throws your shorts to the side. You go to answer, but it's replaced with a soft moan when he runs his fingers through your folds. He grabs one of your legs, pushing it towards your chest as he rubs over your clit.

You move into his touch, shamelessly getting louder the more he touches you. "Come on, Shinsou," you sigh impatiently even though you feel like a few more circles of his fingers could have you cumming in an instant. He doesn't wait to slide his fingers into you, and your hands grip your sheets as he slowly makes his way in.

"God, baby, you're so tight," he whispers, watching his fingers move. They glisten in the moonlight coming in through the window every single time he slides them out, and he can feel his mouth watering the more he watches. "You always this wet?"

"Only for you," you reply, the smile you have on your face slowly disappearing when he starts to rub your clit with his thumb. He speeds his fingers up, and you moan louder when he finally finds that spot inside of you. He zones in on it instantly, pressing it every single time he goes back in, curling his fingers in a delicious way that has your eyes crossing.

He grabs your ankles in one hand, pushing your legs up towards your body when you start moving too much for his liking, and you suddenly find yourself trapped between the bed and his fingers. "'T-Toshi," you whine, and he groans loudly as you continue to repeat his name like a mantra. He's the only thing you can think about as your mind starts to go dumb.

Even if you're able to move your hips a little bit, he follows you no matter where you move. The squelching of his fingers moving in and out of you is audible in the room, and your legs start to shake when you feel your orgasm start to rush up on you. "I can feel you, princess," he tells you. "Lemme feel you cum around my fingers," he orders softly, and one more press of his fingers on your clit and inside of you is what sends you over.

You breathe his name as you cum, soaking his arm and the sheets underneath you. Your legs tremble in his hold as he fucks you through your high, and you squirm when the overstimulation starts to sting your nerves. He slows his fingers down, but he doesn't stop, his eyes watching how you try and fail to move away from his fingers. He finally stops after what seems like forever, and your chest heaves when he puts your legs down as he slides his fingers out of you and into his mouth.

He moans as your taste hits his tongue, and he makes sure to get every drop before he slides them out of his mouth. Even though your head is spinning from your orgasm and the weed, you know for a fact that you want all of him, and your eyes slide down in between his legs, and you can see how hard he is through his underwear.

His phone buzzes suddenly, but he ignores it, spreading your legs as he looks at your cum smeared all over your legs, but then his phone rings. He growls loudly as he gets off the bed, snatching his pants off of the floor, and he takes his phone out of his pocket.

"Shit!" he whispers.

"You have to go?" you mumble, and he slides his pants on before he grabs his shirt.

"I'm sorry, angel," he tells you after he walks to the side of the bed that you're on. He kisses you deeply, and in your influenced state, you follow after him when he pulls away. "It's an emergency. You gonna be okay?" He stays in front of you, making sure that you're okay.

You nod softly, and he turns around like he's looking for something. You're starting to feel tired, your eyelids feeling heavy, and they open when you feel something in between your legs. You look to see him gently cleaning you up, and he moves the blankets, covering you with them.

"I'll fuck you real good next time," he says against your lips, giving you another long kiss before he makes his leave. You smile at his words, listening to him make his way out of your window before you let sleep take over.

When you wake up in the morning, you sit up, upset that he had to leave, but it doesn't last long because you got a really good orgasm while he was here. You didn't get a chance to eat your food last night, and you walk down to your kitchen to see the oven's been turned off. You notice a bunch of stuff on your island, and you frown as you walk over to it.

You see a note on one of the boxes, and you pick it up to read it.

Noticed all the art on the walls, so I figured this would be good enough

Every box that you open has expensive art supplies in it, and even art pieces that are going for six figures. You scoff as you look over everything, and you happen to flip the note over.

I expect you to hold up your end of the deal ;)

You stir awake, and a chill immediately runs up your spine. You're very much awake now as your body goes on full alert mode, and you move carefully, slowing rolling over onto your side. You're confident someone is in your apartment right now, and you can see that it's about two in the morning.

"You awake, baby?"

You recognize the voice instantly, and you sigh heavily as you sit up. Even though you know it's Hitoshi, you still jump when you see him standing at the foot of your bed. "What the fuck, 'Toshi. You scared the hell outta me." He doesn't move, and you slide out of bed, crossing your arms over your chest when the cold air hits your skin. It's pretty dark in your apartment, so the only light on his face is from the moonlight coming in from your window.

"You okay?" you ask softly, your brows softly furrowing in concern when he doesn't say anything. You notice that the look in his eyes is darker than it usually is, and at first you're wondering what could've happened, but then you remember where you've seen that look before.

"I got hit...with something," he mumbles, and then he starts to walk toward you, and you keep walking until your back hits the wall. "I dunno what."

"Okay," you say quietly. "Why didn't you go to a doctor or something?" You don't know why you're asking. He could be on the verge of death, and he'd still come to you to heal him.

"I don't think I need one." He rests his head against yours as his hands rub over your body.

"How are you feeling?" you whisper, making no move to stop him since you have an idea of what's going on.

"Feel really warm," he answers, and that's very much obvious when you touch his face. "And...tingly?" You chuckle a bit, and he smiles when you do but it doesn't last long as he lets his body press into yours. "And I'm fucking hard." You gasp when you feel it, and he moves his head down so he can start kissing your neck.

"I think you were hit with an aphrodisiac," you say even though both of you know that very well.

"Mmh, what should I do?" he asks against your skin as his hands slide around your body to grope at your ass.

"You can wait until it wears off," you breathe, your legs going weak as he starts to suck marks into your skin.

"Yeah, I'd rather just fuck your brains out." He's quick to pick you up in his arms after that, finally meeting your lips in a heated kiss that has you dripping. He makes the short walk to your bed, getting on it on his knees before he lays you down. You wrap your arms around his neck so that he can keep kissing you, but his hands aren't touching you anymore.

"You want this too, right?" You can barely hear him over your heartbeat in your ears, and he softly grabs your face with his hand, causing you to focus on him. "You gotta answer, baby, I don't have much time."

"Yes, 'Toshi. I want you, c'mon," you answer, pulling on his shoulders, and your consent causes his last string to snap. He's got your clothes off in a second, and then your thighs are suddenly by your ears. You jump as he puts his mouth on you instantly, and your hands grab into his hair as you prepare yourself to hold on for the craziest ride of your life.

He moves one of his hands to your ankles so that he can keep your legs out of the way as he slowly slides his fingers inside of you. His tongue works at your clit as his fingers press at the most sensitive spot in your walls, causing your moans to grow louder. "F-Fuck, Shin," you mewl, your breathing heavily now, and your stomach is starting to burn because you can't breath freely with your legs pinned to your upper half.

He only groans in response into your folds as he works you closer and closer to your orgasm. Your back arches as the pleasure starts to build up in the pit of your stomach, and shakily warn him of what's to come. If he heard you, he doesn't respond, only continuing his ministrations, and you swear he tries to reach deeper in to you, the squelching of his fingers moving in and out of you rivaling your noises.

When you start to squirm, he moves with you, not letting up for a second. "T-Toshi--!" Your soft shout tapers off into a gasp as you cum, and his mouth never leaves you as you squirt on his face. He makes sure none of it goes to waste as you try and fail to push him away from you to give you a breather. He sits himself up as he finger fucks you through your high, but he doesn't stop, and you try to grab onto his wrist.

"C'mon," you huff, tears forming in your eyes as you screw them shut from the overstimulation. He smiles down at you before letting go of your legs so he can lean down and kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue, but he's still fingering you. You can barely kiss him back, whining into his mouth.

When he finally pulls his fingers out of you, it feels like you can breathe again. Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, peeling your eyes open to watch him clean his fingers off by sliding them in his mouth.  "God, you taste so good," he moans, savoring your taste before he kisses you again.

He slides his hand around your neck as he kisses you sloppily, sucking on your tongue before he pulls back with your bottom lip between his teeth. He starts to move himself up, taking you with him, and when he gets off the bed and stands, you realize that you're completely naked while he's still fully clothed.

You lean back, letting your hands hold your weight behind you as you spread your still shaking legs, grimacing a bit at the oversensitivity. You can't help but lock onto the massive bulge in his sweats, and he unties the string and shows himself before you can even say anything. Your mouth nearly drops open at how big he is,  your mouth starting to water just from looking at it. It's so thick that it's hanging there even though he's rock hard, and you tilt your head to the side as you admire the thick veins that run from the base to the dark red tip.

"I wasn't sure if I wanted to have you suck me off or fuck your tits, but it looks like you've already decided," he comments, and you look up at him through your lashes before you get on your knees, moving closer until he's right in your face. The tip is shiny and dripping with pre, and you lick your lips before bringing your hand up to touch him. He hisses when you do, gritting his teeth a bit. "Fuck, it hurts," he groans quietly, and you waste no time licking over his tip with your tongue flat, the saltiness hitting your tastebuds.

Shinsou moans softly, his body seeming to be ridiculously sensitive, that he's pretty confident he won't last long. He looks down to watch you spit on his dick, stroking him to make him even wetter. You try to take him down your throat, but you can't, only getting about halfway before your throat starts to close up. He swears loudly, letting his hand rest on top of your head as he tries his hardest not to move.

You pull off of him, stroking him again as you suck at his balls, and you smirk when you physically see his legs give a little. You make sure to show each one enough attention, swirling your tongue around them before you focus on his dick again. You place your hands on the bed, steadying yourself so that you can shake your ass just a bit while you suck him off, and he moans as he zones in on the movement.

His balls twitch in warning of his orgasm, and he holds onto the back of your neck before he starts thrusting in and out of your mouth. It causes you to gag, and his eyes roll as your throat closes around his dick. "Jesus," he sighs, letting his head fall forward so he can watch you take it. He knows for sure that he'd be able to see his dick print moving in your throat, and that thought is what sends him over the edge, pulling you off of him so he can cum all over your face.

You open your mouth to catch his release as he pumps himself until his skin starts to tingle from the oversensitivity. You swallow what lands in your mouth before wiping the rest of off your face with your finger and sliding it in your mouth. "Shit," he huffs, and you notice he's still hard, so you know he's nowhere near satisfied.

You haven't had much experience with aphrodisiacs, but you do know that they are intensely strong, and your pussy throbs at the thought of more to come. He sheds his shirt before he pulls you up to him so he can taste himself when his lips meet yours. You feel his fingers glide through your folds before they rub over your clit, and your nails dig into his shoulders as you feel yourself getting wetter once again.

You easily fall back when he moves, and he's on you again in a second, lifting his hips a bit so that he can line himself up. He makes you spread and hold your legs by your knees so he has room, and your toes curl in anticipation. He rubs at your clit before slapping it with his tip which makes you jump. "Hurry up, 'Toshi," you whine, and he doesn't waste another second. Your mouth drops at the stretch you start to feel, and he continues to rub at your sensitive bud as he slides in.

"Fuck, baby," he moans, "you're squeezing me so good." You've never felt a better stretch when he finally bottoms out, and you let your head fall back onto the bed as you feel yourself fluttering around him. You honestly don't know how he's holding out so well, but you appreciate the short grace period you're not sure you'll get again.

You give him the okay to move, and he pushes your legs down further than he did when he was eating you out. Your voice gets caught in your throat as he slams back into you with so much force that your headboard knocks against the wall. It doesn't take long for him to find that magic spot inside of you, and when he does, you're practically rendered speechless.

Your eyes continue to roll into the back of your head as you can only think about moaning his name. You try to grab any part of him you can as you hold on, the air feeling like it leaves your lungs every time he thrusts into you. "T-Toshi--f-fuck," you cry, tears forming in your eyes again. "O-Oh...my God--!" Your words are chopped up with every thrust, and he can feel how close you are because you're squeezing him tighter than before.

"'M'cumming--ah--!" Your nails dig into his skin as you cum, coating the both of you in your release as he struggles to stay inside of you as your pussy tries to push him out. He changes the angle of you hips as he throws his back, and the tears from your eyes keep coming.

"Ah, shit," he groans. "You're such a good girl for me, angel. Taking me so fucking well," he continues as he lets his forehead rest against yours, and you can feel his hips twitch before he fills you up, a loud groan following as he fucks his cum into you. When he finally slows and lets go of your legs, they flop onto the bed as it feels like your heart is going to be out of your chest. "That's some good shit," he mumbles, his breath fanning against your face.

He's still hard inside of you, feeling him pulsing inside of you, and you think he might give you a bit of a break, but then he's suddenly sitting up and taking you with him. You bite your lip to conceal your moan of surprise as his the tip of his dick sits snuggly at your cervix. You wrap your arms around his neck as he kisses you deeply as he carefully moves inside of you with shallow curls of his hips.

Your face scrunches up in pleasure as your spine tingles with overstimulation, and he watches you intently as he holds you close to him. He's hitting that spot inside of you so good while barely moving his hips, and all you can do is take it.

"'Toshi," you whine, your nails digging into his shoulders, and all he does is smile in response before your toes curl. You don't even have the leverage to move away from him, and you sigh heavily when he finally pulls you off of him.

He carefully lays you down before he flips you over, propping you up on your knees. You try to catch your breath as he runs his hands over your ass. You moan softly when he runs his fingers through your folds, and you jump when he gently pinches your clit.

He takes his dick in his hand, smacking it against yours as as he continues to play with your clit. "You ready for me again?" he whispers, and you nod your head, looking at him over your shoulder.

He pushes on your back, forming it into a deeper arch. "Spread 'em, baby." You move your hands back, spreading yourself open for him, and the sound it makes due to how wet you are is close to making you flush.

You feel him rub over your back as he slides into you, and he holds your back when you try to move away from him. "You got it, angel, just take it," he coos quietly, and your mouth falls open as he fills you up again.

"Oh, my God," you breathe as you let your face fall into your pillow. He gives you a shallow thrust that has you gasping, and you put your hands back on the bed to brace yourself. He's so big, you don't know if you'll be able to walk after all of this.

You push back against him to silently tell him you're ready, and you hold your breath in anticipation when he slides out of you. You cry out when he slams back into you again, your fingers gripping your pillow as your eyes roll back in your head.

He's ruthless, ramming into your sweet spot so well that words aren't even forming in your head. Hitoshi grabs the headboard with one hand as he keeps his hand on your back, and you can hear him swearing softly as he fucks you.

Tears dot your lashing as you squeeze your eyes shut, taking him all, and you moan when his hand slaps your ass hard. You say his name like a mantra, feeling your orgasm building up in your tummy. Despite that, you're still trying to move away, trying to find his arm to stop him.

He suddenly moves both of his hands to your wrists, pinning them to the bed as he rests his top half on your back. "Don't run," he whispers, and you swear you can hear a smirk around his words. He speeds his hips up, and you're trapped by him and your own pleasure, and you call out his name as you start to cum.

His hips slap against yours, and he groans in your ear as he cums right after you, filling you up again. Your nerves tingle with sensitivity, whining as he keeps fucking you while he rides out his high. When he stops, you can feel that he's still hard, and when he finally slides out of, your lower body collapses onto the bed.

You're breathing so hard, and you can barely move your legs. You hear Shinsou shift behind you, and you whine quietly when he rolls your over. He sits back against the headboard before moving you onto him, and he pulls you into a sloppy kiss as soon as you sit on him.

Your makeout is audible in the room, and you moan into the kiss, wondering if it's possible if the aphrodisiac can be transferred because you feel dizzy just from this alone. He starts kissing over your face before he kisses down your neck as his hands run down your back and to your butt.

"Wanna give you a break," he mumbles against your skin before he gently sinks his teeth into it. "But you're making it so hard," he groans, and you let your head fall back as he continues to mark your skin.

You start to roll your hips causing him to moan, and his fingers dig into your ass. You can't keep it up for long, but he immediately takes over, rubbing you over him. It feels good for you too, but it isn't as overwhelming, so you let him use you, reveling in the sounds he's making.

He thrusts up into you, and you hold on to him as you take your turn to put marks on his skin. "Fuck, 'm so close," he grunts, his hips lifting up to meet you so hard that it nearly sends your head into the headboard.

He says your name right before he cums, and he bits down on your shoulder, holding you tight in his arms until he relaxes again. You pull away when his grip loosens, and you look down to see the mess that he's made.

"God, why am I still hard?" he groans when he looks down with you.

You giggle softly. "You feel a little better though, right?" you ask him gently, moving some of his hair that's stuck to his forehead.

"Yeah," he sighs with a short nod. He watches you move backwards until you're between his legs, and he spreads them to give you room, knowing what you're going to do.

He watches you with dark eyes as you clean up the mess he's made, and he moans when you finally lick over his dick. You arch your back, sticking your ass up as you take him into your mouth, and his head rests against the headboard as his eyes roll.

You keep your eyes on his as you take all of him, moving your tongue so you can lick at his balls, and his hips jump softly at the sensation. You keep your lips tight around his dick as you pull off, swirling your tongue around his tip before you dip into his slit.

"S-Shit," he moans. "Fuck. C'mere," he groans, and you pull off of him, wondering what he's talking about. He softly pulls you up by your arms, and you shuffle closer to him on your knees. You let him turn you around, and he slides down on the bed until his face is right in front of your pussy.

"Toshi, this is about you--!" you try, but he's already put his mouth on you, his tongue nailing your sensitive bud.

"Then let me taste you again," he says against you, and you don't have it in you to fight him. You can't even move away from him, his grip on you so strong, you're confident there'll be bruises. "Keep sucking me off, angel."

You moan as he eats you out, but you put him back in your mouth, focusing your mouth on his tip as you use your hand on the rest of him. You can't keep it up for long as your concentration is split, and you can feel your legs trembling.

Shinsou suddenly grabs your hips, pulling you down until you're sitting on his face, and you sigh at the relief you feel once your legs are relaxed. "W-Wait, Toshi, you can't breathe," you moan, and he responds with a slap to your ass.

You hear him say something against you, but you can't hear him, moving your hips against his face as you feel yourself getting close. You swirl your tongue around him again, the only thing you can manage since your mouth is stuck open as you moan his name while you wrap your hand around him.

You cum not too long after, your body tensing as that knot snaps before you ride out the high. He cums right after you, a loud groan muffled by you as he paints himself and your hand white.

You fall over, getting off of him as soon as you can move so that he can breathe, and he's already on you again. He kisses you hard, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue, and you moan when he rubs his fingers through your soaking folds.

"You better call outta work," he says against your lips.

Yeah, you probably should.

~

You've never been more grateful that Miruko is understanding and let you take the night off on such short notice. When you wake up, Shinsou is snoring loudly next to you, but you couldn't even tell because you were drained yourself. You try to roll over and everything pulls painfully as soreness blooms between your legs. "Good lord," you hiss softly as you try to sit up. Shinsou barely stirs, and you slowly reach for your phone so that you can order some food.

You weren't sure how long the effects of the quirk would last, but five hours was definitely not what you were expecting. He tried to give you breaks every and now and then, letting you tap out when it was too much for you, but it wasn't long before he was in between your legs again. He just couldn't get enough of you, and you honestly want to know what kind of aphrodisiac it was and lock that person up.

After the last round, the last thing you remember is Shinsou pulling out of you and laying you down. He must've fallen asleep right after you did, but now it's about to be late in the evening. Even though you've slept the day away, you still feel like you could sleep for another day. It'll take a while for the food to get here since you ordered enough to feed a small family, possibly more. Once you confirm the order, you flop right back into bed, letting sleep take over again.

You try your hardest to get to the door when you hear the knock because you just woke up, and you don't know how long they've been knocking. You're not surprised when Shinsou doesn't stir, and you wrap yourself in your robe before limping to the door. God, you're going to need to soak.

"Sorry--" You stop talking when you see Shindou on the other side of the door instead of your food. "What the hell are you doing here?" you ask, closing the door slightly as you take a couple of steps towards the hallway.

"Miruko told me you called out, I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he answers, and you give him a small smile as you tighten your robe.

"Oh, well, thanks. But I'm totally fine, I was just feeling a little under the weather," you lie, hoping that he doesn't ask to come inside as your grip on your door tightens a little. You don't know what to say so it gets quiet and suddenly Shinsou's snoring starts to replace the silence. You see Shindou's face change a bit, and you try to change the subject. "Well, thanks for stopping by, I'm totally okay. I'll see you later, okay?"

"What's going on?" he asks when you try to close the door, stopping the motion softly by putting his hand on the door. "Are you really okay?"

"Yes," you respond tightly, inhaling sharply.

Suddenly you notice that the snoring has stopped. "Baby?" You freeze at the sound of Shinsou's voice raspy from sleep. "Who's at the door?" You turn your head to look at him, seeing him slowly sitting up. You turn your attention back to Shindou when he calls your name, and you try to figure out a way to get him to leave because he cannot see Hitoshi.

The look on Yo's face in unreadable. "You're seeing someone now?" He sounds almost offended, and you can't help but scoff.

"Yo, come on. We've been broken up for a while. Don't be like this, I do not have time," you state firmly. "Thanks for coming to check on me, but I'm fine." You try to close the door, but he stops you a bit more forcefully this time.

"Seriously? 'A while'?" he quotes, "did I mean nothing to you?" You sigh heavily waving your hand as you see Shinsou getting out of the bed in your peripheral.

"Yo, you can't be serious right now. Don't get pissy because I'm seeing someone," you say. "How is that fair? You know why we broke up. It was your own damn fault." He tries to speak, but you don't let him. "No, you need to leave. I don't know why you think that you can show up and have the audacity to get pissed because I'm in a relationship."

"I didn't--"

"Oh, but you did," you interrupt. "Leave, Shindou. I'm expecting food soon." You sigh again before you close the door, locking it as you see Shinsou walking over to you, still naked.

"Who was that?" he asks before he kisses you, his voice genuine.

"Someone I work with," you answer at first, and he raises an eyebrow.

"Was it that bouncer?"

"How'd you know that?"

"I see how he looks at you," he says simply with a shrug. "I guess it didn't end well between the two of you."

"Yeah, and I don't wanna get into it honestly."

Shinsou holds his hands up, pulling his lips down at the corners. "And I'm not gonna ask. That's your business, angel." You nod your head softly, but you don't respond, upset at having your whole mood ruined. "Pretty sure he's still standing outside the door," he whispers to you. "Want me to say something?"

You quickly shake your head. "No, he doesn't need to know what you look like," you whisper back.

"It's not like he's gonna know, right? And what's he gonna do, huh?"

"No, 'Toshi," you sigh. "I don't wanna have anymore drama, and I don't want you to get found out," you explain. "Also you're fucking naked." He chuckles which makes you smile, and he kisses you softly a couple more times.

"You're starving too, right?" he asks when he pulls away, his stomach grumbling.

"Yeah," you laugh softly. "It should be here any minute." As if on cue, there's a knock on the door, and you check the peephole before pushing Shinsou out of sight so you can open the door without having him flash the poor guy.

You take the food but before you can even ask for the price, the man speaks before you do. "Don't worry, miss. It was already paid for," he tells you, and you frown at him. "I guess he's your neighbor? I passed him on the way out." Your face falls, and you give the man a friendly smile.

"I'll be sure to thank him. Thank you so much and have a nice day." You close the door before you set the food on the counter.

"Ooh, free food," Hitoshi speaks up as he starts to take the food out of the bag. He said it more to himself, but you can't even find yourself to laugh at his reaction. "He didn't like your job, right?"

You hadn't even realized you'd zoned out, staring at the countertop. You look at Shinsou after he speaks, and you nod your head after releasing another tired sigh. "He was incredibly jealous. I don't know if he was always like that though. And if there was any guy that touched me the wrong way, it took more than a couple of dudes to stop him from killing him."

Shinsou doesn't say anything, he just eats and listens to you, and you finally sit down at the island next to him. "I'm pretty sure Miruko didn't want us dating co-workers, but it honestly didn't last long, and I broke it off once he started acting like that." He pushes a couple of the containers your way. "This doesn't bother you?"

"Why would it?" he says before eating some noodles. "I already know I'm better than him, and by your reaction, I have nothing to worry about. So, I'm chilling." He opens one of the containers he slid towards you. "Now, stop moping and eat this before I eat it all." You can't help but laugh as he holds the fork your way, and you eat off of it. You both talk about random stuff as you eat, and it doesn't take long for you to get out of that mood you were in.

Once you're done, you spend the rest of the day in bed with Shinsou, and you end up sleeping the night away as well.

You freeze when you walk into the room, wondering if this is a joke. You clear your throat as you walk towards the man, doing your best to keep your cool.

"One of the top pro-heroes in my room," you say. The man's face starts to turn pink a bit, and you can't help but smile. "What are you doing here, Deku?" you question as you slide your hands over his shoulders.

You honestly should've expected it to be a hero when you saw how much money was paid. Pro-heroes always go over the actual price, and you assume the rest of it is hush money. It makes you roll your eyes; you have better things to do then telling people which heroes come to a strip club.

He can barely meet your eyes as he answers. "I, um, wanted to ask you something," he whispers, and that makes you frown a bit. He hesitates, and you sit on his lap, his body tensing horribly when you do.

"And what would that be?" you whisper. It takes him a while to finally speak, but when he does, you're frozen.

"I know you know who the vigilante is."

You jump back a bit, trying your best to keep your heart rate from spiking so that you don't alert Miruko. She just recently got some heart rate monitors to try out and you know the moment it spikes, she'll make sure he's out of here.

"And?" you continue, running your hand over his chest, stopping at his heart to see if you can detect a change in his heartbeat. But you don't feel anything, he's completely serious.

"I want in," he states, that nervous demeanor he had nearly gone.

"Want in on what?"

"We both know what I'm talking about here," he responds.

"And what makes you so sure that I can help you with that?"

"A lot of heroes are trying to track him down, but they haven't been very successful," he answers.

"And you have?"

"Why do you think I'm here?" he asks, and you glance off to the side for a split second.

"I'm not a part of what he's doing. There's no guarantee that I can even get "you in"," you quote.

"But you know him. That has to be something, right?"

You frown. "Why would a top hero want in on something that's sole purpose is to expose corruption?"

"Because it's not at all what people think it is. I thought it would change after..." He trails off, pulling his fingers under his thumb to pop them. "But it's still the same shit."

You suddenly get off of him, and his face falls a bit as you start to leave. "Is that all you wanted?"

"Wait!" he says, standing quickly.

You turn around. "Is that all you wanted?"

"Yeah," he says after clearing his throat.

"I'll see what I can do." And then you make your leave.

~

You make your way inside your apartment, but after the conversation you had tonight, you can't really find it in you to go to sleep as soon as you get there. You get in the shower, and you lay in bed, mindlessly watching TV. It's a random show that you put on that you've never seen, but you're not really thinking about watching it.

You're scrolling on your phone, wondering if you'll see Shinsou tonight. You haven't seen him in a while since he's had to lay low because of a close call he had a couple of weeks ago. It's better to only have contact with him in person, so you can't even tell him about what happened at work.

You roll over on your side, and your eyelids start to feel heavy when you blink. Your eyes finally close after a while, your phone falling from your hand as you start to fall asleep when you hear something at your window. You don't move, the sound barely waking you up, but your eyes open when you hear footsteps.

You sit up, seeing Shinsou walking up the stairs, and you smile as he walks over to your side of the bed. You give him a sleepy smile as you fully sit up, and he returns it with soft smile of his own. He leans down, resting his hand on your neck before he kisses you softly.

"Hi, 'Toshi," you hum after he pulls away, and his smile widens at the sleep in your face and in your voice.

"Hey, baby," he whispers warmly. "Didn't mean to wake you."

You shake your head slowly, letting your head fall to the side a little when he continues to rub his thumb over your neck. "I just fell asleep, so you're fine." You yawn quietly, blinking the tears away from your eyes. "Are you supposed to be here?"

"I don't have much time, but I just wanted to see you. Let you know that I was okay," he answers. You hum as you close your eyes, your smile going as big as it can in your sleepy state.

"Well, thank you for coming."

"Of course. How was work?" Your smile falls at his question, and he frowns just a little bit at your reaction.

"Someone came to me looking for you," you tell him, and he takes a half step closer to you.

"They didn't hurt you, did they?" he asks, and even though his body doesn't show that he's angry, the change in his voice does.

"No," you answer with a shake of your head. "They know that we've been seeing each other, and they asked me if I could get them to you," you explain. "They want in."

"Who was it?" he questions quickly.

"Deku," you say with a laugh. "Can you believe that?"

"He wants in? What does that mean?"

"Beats me," you answer with a shrug. "I guess the corruption is too much for him. But he doesn't have to join you, he could literally just leave," you sigh, shaking your head as you roll your eyes. "I told him I'll see what I can do, but I said that I wasn't even a part of it, so there was really nothing I could do."

Shinsou sighs as he looks to the side, and he lets his hand fall from your neck before he steps back, turning around, running his hand through his hair. You frown as you watch him, and you move the blankets off of you so that you can stand. "What's wrong?" you ask, grabbing his wrist, and he turns back around to face you.

"I didn't mean to get you mixed up in all of this," he tells you softly. "I don't like knowing that there's a chance I'm putting you in danger."

"I can handle myself, and they seem to only approach me at work," you tell him.

"But if they know where you work, then there's a chance that they could know where you live," he emphasizes, and you didn't think about that since your brain is still tired.

"Oh, yeah. I didn't think about that," you say plainly, letting your shoulders drop. "So, I should probably be laying low too, then," you continue.

He sighs heavily as he nods. "I'm sorry, angel. I didn't mean for you to wrapped up in all of this."

You shake your head. "Don't worry about it, 'Toshi. I kinda knew what I was getting into when I met you," you tease, pushing on his arm softly, and he finally smiles. "I'll call Miruko and tell her what's going on. She'll understand."

He nods, sighing again. "I should probably see if Deku's being legit."

"Well, be careful, okay?" You lean up to kiss him, and he easily meets you halfway.

"Of course."

"Did we really have to meet here? It almost took me an hour to get to this place."

"I don't have any reason to trust you right now. You could just say I'm being cautious," Shinsou responds, crossing his arms over his chest.

They're nearly out in the middle of nowhere, and there's no reception here, so there's no way Deku can call for anyone just in case he's planning something else. But Shinsou knows him, so he already has plans in place in case things go south.

"We went to high school together. That has to count for something, right?" he laughs.

"Yeah, but there's a lot of years unaccounted for. That was a long time ago." Shinsou stops him before he can even speak again. "What are you really doing here? I don't appreciate you going to people that aren't involved," he says. "You come to me if you want to talk to me."

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry, it won't happen again," Deku sighs, and Shinsou stays silent, wordlessly telling him that he can continue. "I got a lot of information that could be beneficial to you."

"I guarantee you that what you have I already have. And just because you give me information, doesn't mean that you're automatically a part of this."

"Who are you going after next, huh? Someone that's in the top ranking, right? I got everything that you could think of."

"Let's see it then," he sighs. "I guess some things don't change," he adds when he sees the notebooks that Deku pulls out.

"Well, you seem to be a wiz at technology. Anyone would be stupid to keep secrets on any piece of it." Deku hands it to him, and Shinsou makes sure to stay aware of his surroundings as he looks through them. He reads through most of it pretty quickly, already knowing about all of this stuff, but he slows when he sees stuff that he's never heard before. "Told you."

"How'd you get this?" Shinsou asks, reading through a couple of the pages.

"It's what happens when you're friends with these people. Alcohol makes people say anything around the people they trust." He flips through the notebooks a bit more before he closes them, looking back at Deku.

"And I'm just supposed to trust you just because you have all of this?"

"Listen, you're doing work that's needed, but it's not enough. All of this runs way deeper than you think," Deku argues. "And if you have someone on the inside, then you can get to the bottom of it."

"So, you think that once all of this goes away, everything will be the way you want it?"

"We have to at least try, right?" Shinsou chuckles softly, shaking his head.

"Don't you get it? None of this is going change anything," he says, shaking the notebooks in his hand. "Once you go on, there's a very big chance that all of this will start again."

"Then why are you doing it?" he counters quickly. "You're spending all of your time knocking all of these heroes down, and for what? What's your end goal?"

"I'm not gonna be here for much longer," Shinsou answers after he's silent for a while. "I'm just having fun at this point, but this is never gonna stop. I'm just doing what I can before I finally move on." He hands him back the notebooks. "I realized a long time ago that this is just an endless cycle. I've got a few more things I wanna say, and then I'm out of here."

"Then take me with you," Deku tries. "I'm on the same page. This is never going to change."

Shinsou squints at him, crossing his arms again. "I don't think it'll be that easy for you," he says honestly. "Even after what happened in high school, you still came back to all of this, and now you're a big part of it. It's gonna take more than giving me information for you to finally detach yourself from an impossible reality."

He doesn't respond, and Shinsou nods before taking a couple of steps back. "I'll let you think about this. You know where to find me."

Shinsou walks away, leaving Deku standing there holding onto every word he said.

~

Being trapped in your own apartment isn't so bad, but you sure are getting bored going between your bed and the rest of your apartment. You've been finding new shows to watch in between working on some more art pieces, but those don't really hold your attention for long.

You're laying on the floor, scrolling through your phone when you hear a familiar sound at your window. You smile as you sit up, already knowing who it is. You stand up to meet him halfway, and you practically fall into him, wrapping your arms around him. "I'm guessing this isn't going well," he laughs, and you groan before you move your head up to look at him, resting your chin on his chest.

"I'm so bored!" you sigh, whining as he picks you up and walks over to the couch. "I feel like I've done everything I can. Nothing is keeping my attention anymore," you say, and he smiles as he listens to you talk, getting comfortable on the couch.

"Well, I'll be staying here for a while, so hopefully that helps."

"Really?!"

"Yeah, if you don't mind," he says around a chuckle. "Things are getting kinda heated, so we're splitting up for now." You hug him tightly, your body relaxing as you sigh.

"Thank God. I really thought the boredom was gonna kill me." You kiss him softly, further relaxing into him as his hands rub over your back, finding their place on your ass. "Is it safe for you to stay here, though?" you ask.

"More or less," he answers with a shrug. "I've got your building secure, so I'll know if there's something wrong."

You nod before your eyes catch onto one of the paintings you made. "You know, I never got to thank you for all that art you got me a while ago," you say, and he smiles softly, rubbing his hands over your ass.

"Well, I'd say you thanked me pretty well after that aphrodisiac," he replies, and you hum, feeling his hands start to roll your hips against him. "I think you should thank me again after saving you from boredom," he adds quietly.

"Really?" you whisper, already moving in to kiss him again. He's quick to pick you up again, making his way to your bed. He carefully walks up the stairs as he gets rid of your clothes, and he softly places you on the bed before quickly removing his.

He hovers over you, setting his knees on either side of you. He kisses you softly, his fingers drift over your skin so lightly that it's almost ticklish. The sensation makes you arch into him, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

One of his hands continue to move down until it reaches your pussy, and you jump softly when you runs his fingers through your folds even though you were expecting it. He kisses down your face, planting kisses all over your neck as his thumb rubs over your clit.

One of your hands slides into his hair as you spread your legs, and you moan softly when he slides his fingers into you. He sucks at your tits, using his body to keep you from moving too much as he speeds up his fingers, curling them to hit that spot that has you seeing stars.

He lifts his head up when you tug on his hair, your toes curling as you feel that familiar feeling building up in your stomach. He smirks at you, moving up to kiss you sloppily, swirling his tongue around yours.

He pulls your lip softly with his teeth when he pulls away from the kiss, smiling after he lets it go. "You gonna cum, baby?" he asks you quietly against your lips like he doesn't already know.

His smile widens when you can't answer, rendered to moans as he nails both of your sensitive spots. "Toshi, Toshi--" you breathe, your chest stuttering every time you say his name.

One last gasp of his name is what he hears before you cum, your walls clenching around his fingers so hard that he can barely move them anymore. He follows you when you try to move away from the overstimulation, only giving you a breather when you whine his name.

You catch your breath before gently pulling him towards you so that you can kiss him. You rub your hands over his body as he grinds against you, and you buck your hips up into his touch. "You ready for me?"

You nod quickly, and he can feel you spread your legs. "Fuck me, 'Toshi, come on," you urge, and he chuckles softly before he lines himself up.

He lifts one of your legs by your knee as he slides in, and your mouth falls open as you get used to the stretch. You haven't felt this in a while, and feeling it now, you know that you've missed this. He moans as he feels you pulse around him, and he grabs your hands, lacing his fingers with yours as he bottoms out.

He moves your hands so that they're over your head, and he kisses you softly as he lets you get used to the stretch. "This is all pretty intimate, isn't it?" you whisper with a small smile.

"And what about it?" he responds with a smirk, his thumbs rubbing over your hands.

"Feels like we're lovers or something," you comment, and he hums as he tilts his head to the side a bit.

"And we aren't?"

"You know what I mean," you say, trying your best jot to hold your breath as you wait for his response.

"What d'ya wanna hear?" he asks before he kisses you, and you don't get to respond because he quickly pulls out, thrusting into just as fast. "That I love fucking you?" He slams back into you again. "That I love coming to see you when I finally can?" Another thrust. "That it kills me when I can't see you?"

He keeps his eyes on yours as he speaks, and you try and fail to hold the eye contact. "That being with you has made me the happiest I've been in a long time? That I wanna be with you for the rest of my life?"

He speeds his hips up, and he knows that can't respond like you want to, and he smirks before his eyes roll when you squeeze around him as he nails your g-spot. "That I wanna be in this pussy forever?" Your nails dig into his hands as your moans get louder, and he can feel you getting closer.

"Fuck, you always feel so good," he groans, letting his head rest on yours as he feels his orgasm building up too. "C'mon, angel," he urges. "Want my baby to cum." He shifts his hips, nailing that spot inside you every time, and that knot snaps, tears spilling from your eyes when you screw them shut, your mouth open in a silent moan.

"Jesus," he slurs into your neck, groaning your name loudly as he cums soon after you do, slowing down his thrusts as he fills you up.

He lifts his head to kiss you once you both catch your breath, and he lets go of your hands so he can cup your face in his hands, kissing you firmer than before.

"How was that?" he jokes, and he smiles when you do, and your eyes slowly open to meet his.

"That sounded like a love confession if I'm not mistaken," you gush.

"Maybe I need to fuck you again so you know for sure." You laugh, wrapping you arms around his neck before kissing him again.

"I love you, 'Toshi," you whisper.

"I love you, too, angel."

You both stay like that for a moment, just appreciating each other's touch, and Shinsou carefully slides out of a while later, getting off the bed so that he can clean you up. You clench your teeth softly when he rubs the warm washcloth in between your legs, and he hangs it on the side of the laundry basket when he's done.

He slides into bed next to you, and both of you get under the covers as he pulls you towards him. You rest your head on his chest as he rubs over your body, occasionally letting his finger run down your side just to see you shiver.

"So, what happens now?" you ask softly, and you hear him sigh and his head moving softly across the pillow.

"I'm planning on leaving," he starts. "I'll drive myself crazy if I keep doing what I'm doing cause it'll never end." You listen to him intently, tracing his one of his tattoos on his arm with your finger. "There's still some people I wanna take down, though. But after that, I'm done."

You lift your head up, and he's quick to look at you. "So, where are we going?"

He gives you a soft smile, placing his hand on your face before rubbing his thumb over your cheek. "Anywhere you want," he says warmly.

"There are so many options!" you sigh quietly, looking to the ceiling as you go through places in your head.

"You serious about this?" he asks, and you look back at him.

"I honestly don't have any reason to stay here anymore," you sigh. "My dad is still here, and I've always wanted to get away from him as far as possible." You softly chew on your lip. "I guess I never left because I didn't want to break from the monotony of my life or because I was waiting for something to happen. I dunno.

"But you're here now, so I guess this could finally be the push I've been waiting for."

"I'm honored," he muses, and you roll your eyes as you smile, but you can't help but laugh.

It's been a few weeks since Shinsou started staying at your place; he decided that if he was going to go out with a bang, then he should do it when everyone least expects it. He's got a few more things to put in place, but he's able to do all of that while laying low, so even though there could still be people looking for him, it's nowhere near as many as it was a while ago.

"You have to stay still, 'Toshi," you scold, looking past your canvas, and he groans as he rolls his shoulders.

"I don't know if you know this, but this position is fucking uncomfortable," he grunts with no heat behind it. "You couldn't have me lay down or something?"

"If you would stay still, then you wouldn't have to hold the position for so long," you say, and he sighs as he rolls his eyes before getting back into position. You're almost done, adding the last touches when there's a knock at your door. You and Shinsou both look at the door, but neither of you move.

"Are you expecting someone?" he asks quietly, and you shake your head as he carefully moves across your apartment. You stare at the door as you listen to Shinsou tapping at his laptop. "Do you know who this is?" he asks, and you quietly but quickly make your way over to him. He added a few cameras when he started staying here just for security, and the one on the door gives a clear view of who's in front of it.

"Oh, my God," you breathe when you see who it is.

"Angel, wait!" Shinsou says when you run to the door. You quickly unlock it, swinging it open, and you tackle the person with a hug.

"Mom!" you sigh, tears already forming in your eyes as she hugs you back. "What are you doing here?" you ask, not ready to let her go just yet.

"I just wanted to check on you. I was contacted by a Miruko?" she says, and you finally pull away. "She told me that I should probably check to make sure you were okay."

You let her in, closing the door behind you, and in your excitement, you forgot about Shinsou, but when you turn around, he's nowhere to be seen. You frown as you look around for any sign of him, but you quickly turn to your mom when she looks at you. "Is there anything big going on that I should know about?" she asks.

"No, of course not. I just needed to take a break from work, that's all."

"Your boss calls me to tell me to check on you because you took a break?" You can tell she doesn't buy it, and you honestly don't know what you could say. "Who is it?"

"Huh?" you respond suddenly, your eyes widening. "What are you talking about? It's just me."

Your mom rolls her eyes before she turns to face your empty apartment. "Please save my daughter from her horrible lying and come out, please," she says, and your eyes dart around quickly. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise."

Shinsou suddenly peaks his head out from the loft. "Considering that her quirk has to do with poison, I am a little worried."

Your mom laughs. "Mine has nothing to do with that. I'm defenseless. I swear," your mom says, holding her hands up. Shinsou uses his bindings to jump down from the loft, and you roll your eyes. Of course, he wouldn't use the stairs.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," Shinsou says easily. "Sorry for all of that," he adds, waving his hand towards the loft.

"Considering your reaction, you must be doing something that you shouldn't," your mom discloses, and you and Shinsou tense for a split second before you sigh.

"Something like that?" he acknowledges with an uneasy chuckle. "I would never put her in danger, though. I'm doing everything I can to make sure that doesn't happen." Your mom just looks at him, and for the first time, it actually looks like Shinsou's nervous. Hell, you are too.

"You managed to get caught up with a vigilante?" your mom suddenly questions, and a million things run through your head as you try to figure out what to say.

"What makes you say that?" you try, but you know she's already figured the both of you out.

"Alright, when are you gonna drop this?" she scoffs with a smile, and you glance at Shinsou, who gives you a barely visible nod.

"Okay, fine," you sigh, your body drooping as you drop your head. "You figured it out." You look up to see a surprised look on her face which makes you frown. "What?"

"Who knew a wild guess could be true?"

"You were just guessing?!" you blurt, and it's not long until all of you are laughing. "Okay," you sigh, "you probably had a long trip, right? Do you want anything?"

"Just some water, please." You nod, leading her to the couch before you grab a bottle of water from the kitchen. You hand it to her before you sit next to her while Shinsou sits on one of the bar stools at the island.

You rest your weight on her, putting your head on her shoulder. "I missed you, Mom," you whisper.

"I missed you, too, sweetie," she responds, rubbing over your head. "I'm sorry I didn't see you sooner. It was hard to come back here after leaving."

"I get it."

"But, it wasn't okay," she states, and you sit up when she shifts, grabbing your hands. "I should've come back sooner, or done a better job at trying to take you with me. I was only thinking about myself, and allowed you to suffer at the hands that man for who knows how long."

Your smile is small as tears form in your eyes again. "But you're here, now. That's all that matters," you say. "And I haven't seen him in years. I guess he's too upset that I wasn't what he wanted me to be."

"I'm so glad you got out, and that you've had people that are taking care of you." Then she suddenly sharply turns to Shinsou. "And what are your intentions with my daughter?"

"E-Excuse me?" he stutters.

"Mom!" you exclaim, giving her a questioning look.

"You didn't think I would ask? His career isn't really something that comforts me." You sigh heavily, letting your head fall into your hands. She stands up, walking over to him as she puts her hands on her hips. "Well?"

"I can promise you now that I can take care of her," he declares. "I won't be doing this for much longer anyway, so you'll have nothing to worry about." You can't help but smile as you listen to him, and he looks at you for a brief second, returning your smile before he looks back at your mom. "I'm going to support and love her for as long as I live."

"And then what?" He raises his eyebrows, not following what she's saying. "What happens after you're done with all of this? Am I getting grandkids or what?"

"Good lord, Mother, please," you groan, but she doesn't take her attention off of Shinsou, and he releases an uneasy chuckle.

"We haven't really talked about that yet, um..." he tries.

"I'm not saying it's a must," she emphasizes. "I just want to make sure there are plans in place."

"I can assure you that there are plans. I plan for everything," Shinsou assures. "I will never let anything happen to her."

"I'm holding you to that," she declares. "You won't be able to escape if I find out something did happen."

"I can't say that I'm surprised, but you won't be doing any of that," he repeats, and he has no problem telling her over and over again.

"Okay, Mom, you can chill with the interrogation," you say, walking up to her and putting your hands on her shoulders. "How many times does he have to repeat himself?"

"I'm just being precautious while he's still involved with dangerous things." You roll your eyes, knowing that there's really nothing either of you can say to placate her worries. She presses some more questions out of Shinsou, but he's eager to answer them, and you just sit back and watch them. It sort of puts you at ease, knowing that you have people that do care about you.

Your childhood was rough, and you know for a fact that if you could go in time, you would tell your past self that it does get better, and that you're going to meet one of the best people you've ever met. You'd go back in time and tell her that everything is going to be okay, and that she was a fighter, that her mother never stopped thinking about her.

Your mother stays for the rest of the day, and you soak in every moment that you have with her and Shinsou that entire day.

~

"Hey, I was thinking of some new recipes I found for dinner. Pick which one you want," you tell him, having the recipes splayed out on the island. You hear him walk up behind you, but before you can turn around, he's wrapping his arms around you, looking at the recipes over your shoulder.

He glues himself to your back, humming softly as he looks over the recipes. "That one looks good," he says, pointing to the one he's talking about.

"Are you hungry now? I can start on it if you are," you ask, grabbing the recipe, but he doesn't let you move.

"Not really," he answers, his lips hovering over your neck. "But I wouldn't mind having a snack," he adds before he softly kisses your neck as his hands rub over your body.

"Toshi, c'mon," you giggle, but you make no move to stop him.

Suddenly, there's a hard banging on your door that scares the shit out of you, and Shinsou instantly turns around, standing in between you and the door. "I know you're here! Open up!" You tense so hard it hurts when that voice hits your ears. When it looks like he might move, you stop him softly with a hand on his arm.

"Do you know who's out there?" He turns to ask you, and you can only give him a silent confirmation in the form of a nod. They bang against the door again, and you try your hardest not to flinch. You step around Shinsou so you can make your way to the door, and you take a few seconds to calm yourself before you open it.

You don't open it all the way, stopping the door with your body when your father tries to forcefully enter his way in. "What the hell do you want?"

"I am your father, you don't--"

"You are nothing to me," you respond sternly. "How in the hell did you find me?" You never thought you'd see him again. Once you declared that you didn't want to be a hero, that you weren't going to allow him to control your life anymore, he disowned you. When you were old enough to finally leave, you did because he didn't care for you anymore. Honestly, you don't think he loved you at all like a father should; he just wanted you to be something he couldn't.

"Who have you been hanging out with?!" he demands, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't bullshit me! I know you've been around that vigilante!" This time you really frown at him. How in the fuck does he know that? You obviously don't look at Shinsou because that would definitely raise suspicion, and you don't know what your father would do.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you try, and he slams his hand against the door when you try to close it.

"I know you're lying to me. You've always been bad at that." He only thinks that because he was always been forceful when it came to getting your true opinion about things.

"Are you stalking me?" you question, and if you were younger, you wouldn't catch it, but you seem him hesitate for a split second. "Why? I thought you were done with me, huh? You wanted me to get outta your sight for being such a disappointment and a mistake." You quote his words back to him, but of course, he barely shows a reaction.

"You are making me look bad," he tries, and that makes you roll your eyes.

"As far as I know, no one knows about me because you were so disgusted that I wasn't what you wanted me to be. So I am very convinced that your statement is far from the truth."

"Don't change the subject." You wonder if he can hear how ridiculous he sounds over his ego. "And where you're working now? Your mother would be so disappointed in you."

"Don't you talk about my mother that way!" you scream, pointing at him. "She was the only person that loved me in that fucking horrible household! She's the only reason I'm still fucking here! She would be glad that I'm away from you!" He tries to speak, but you refuse to let him get a word in now. "You are the worst person in the world, and an even worst father and husband! And I will make sure one day that everyone knows about it, and you will be even further from being in the top ten!

"But it's not like you'll need my help anyway because you're such a sorry pro-hero!" That seems to really set him off because he's slamming the door open, knocking you back. He keeps moving until he pins you against the counter as fear rises in your throat, and you suddenly feel like a child again, completely helpless against him.

You try to fight him off of you as the counter continues to dig into your back, and you close your eyes as you find yourself at a loss of what to do. Your eyes shoot open when his grip starts to loosen, and you see Shinsou holding him in a chokehold with a cloth over his face. Your father's eyes are frantic as he tries to fight whoever is holding him, but his movements start to slow as his eyes fall closed.

When he stops moving, Shinsou lets him fall to the ground at the same time you sink to the ground, sobs leaving your chest as you start to take in what just happened. Shinsou's with you in a second, holding you in his arms as you let it all out. Your eyes are screwed shut as you try not to let yourself go down that horrible memory lane.

"Just focus on my voice, okay? He's not gonna hurt you anymore." He keeps talking to you, which helps especially since you couldn't think of anything else to focus on. He eventually picks you up once you calm down a bit, and he carries you to the couch, sitting down with you in his lap.

You rest your face in his neck, taking a final breath that really expands your lungs to really calm yourself. "What did you do to him?" you ask, sighing at the motion of him rubbing over your back.

"I just knocked him out with some dust I got from a friend. He won't remember much when he wakes up," he tells you. "Didn't know if I had your permission to kill him." He smiles when he hears you laugh before you sniffle. You lift your head up so that you can kiss him.

"Sorry, you had to see me like that, but thank you for calming me down."

"Don't apologize for anything," he says. "He's a piece of shit, and I'm so sorry you had to go through that." He rubs his finger up and down across your cheek. "You never have to apologize for something like that. Okay?" You nod, giving him another hug as you take another deep breath.

Shinsou sits with you a little bit longer until he mentions that you should probably get your father out before he wakes up. Since it's pretty late at night, you're able to walk out of your apartment as Shinsou carries your father over his shoulder out of the building. Just as you thought, when you walk out, there's a car sitting behind the building. The driver side door opens, and you speak up before the man can say anything once he gets out.

"Tell him that if he shows his face here again, he won't walk out." Shinsou has everything covered, so the man definitely won't be able to identify him, and he nearly throws your father into the man, and he almost falls as he tries to catch him. You don't want to be near him any longer, so you quickly turn around to walk back into your apartment.

"I can't stay here anymore." It's the first thing you say once Shinsou closes the door to your apartment. "He's just gonna keep coming back or send people to stalk me," you continue. "He'll definitely put things together if he sees you."

"Don't panic, okay?" Shinsou tells you, stepping into your space and resting his hands on your neck, letting his thumbs rub over your face. "You can just stay with me until he dies down. I don't mind. Things have pretty much settled, so everyone's heading back to our home base, but I just wanted to stay with you."

He smiles when you do, and you sniffle again as you rub your hand over your head. "I don't think I have a choice," you sigh. "I just have to talk to my boss."

~

"You don't have to say anything."

You blink in surprise. You told Miruko you had something to talk to her about, so she lead you into her office. Once you closed the door and tried to explain your situation, she spoke before you could. "Excuse me?"

"Did you forget that I've known you since you left that piece of shit?" Her words cause you think about your past self, and you push past it for now. "I'm guessing he showed his face? That's why you're here."

"Yeah," you whisper.

"And I know you've got someone now, so don't worry about anything here. Just worry about yourself." You can't help but smile at her words, and she copies it as she walks toward you. "I'd kill that man for you in heartbeat, you know that?" She hugs you as you laugh, and you nod against her. She pulls away, holding your face in her hands. "God, he really got you this time, didn't he?"

You nod again, deciding not to say anything, but thanks to Shinsou, you've already let out your emotions. Before, when your father was still finding you, you'd hold it in until Miruko called you into her office, and you'd finally break. She hated seeing you like that, and she's glad that she hasn't seen you like that in a while.

"If you need anything, you call me, okay?" You nod again, giving her another hug before you make your way out. You had already met up your friend, telling her about everything that had happened, and she was just as supportive, only telling you that she wishes she could go with you.

You're about to walk out the back door, feeling a weird sense of calmness despite the events that have occurred the last couple of days. You can feel a bit of nostalgia tied in with it, and you know it's from the fact that you may never step foot in this building again. You won't see Miruko or your best friend for the foreseeable future, but you know they only want the best for you, and that's enough to make you feel better about how the situation with your dad came to this.

You stop when you see your friend, giving her one last tight hug with the promise that you will contact her as soon as it's safe. Having that conversation with her did make you shed some tears, but she's making you smile nonetheless, and you know you wouldn't have even made it this far without her and Miruko.

You finally make it outside, taking a deep breath when the air hits your skin. Shindou's standing right beside the door when you walk out, and you battle in your head whether or not you should say something.

"You're not coming back, are you?" he asks quietly. You stop, slowly turning to look at him, and the low volume of his voice makes you realize how quiet it is.

"Yeah," you sigh softly. "Some shit came up. It's not safe here for me anymore." The plain look on his face disappears as his brows crease to hover closer to his eyes.

"He found you?"

You nod, knowing who he's referring to. "I don't know if I'll be back, but I hope--" You cut yourself off when he steps closer to you, and you almost back away.

"Is he treating you good?" he asks you suddenly, but there's no jealousy in his voice, only lovingness with a hint of concern.

You give him a small smile as you nod. "Yeah. I love him," you tell him honestly, and you can see something that looks like regret flash in his eyes, but you can barely catch it; the look is gone by the time he blinks.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry for how I acted during our relationship." You hesitate to respond for a split second, not sure if you want to go down this path.

"Thank you for saying that," you eventually say.

"I mean it. And I've really messed things up, and I hate that this is the last thing that I'm telling you." You just listen to him talk, not sure if this is something you need to respond to. "But, I'm glad that you're happy, and that's all I want for you. I just regret that I'm not the man to do that for you." It looks like there's more he wants to say, but you know that you don't have much time left.

If there was something else he wanted to say, he drops it, instead saying, "Is it okay if I hug you?"

There's no way that you can say no. Even though you don't feel for him the way you feel for Hitoshi, he was someone who was with you through the hard times as well even though for some parts of it, he wasn't making it any easier.

He hugs you tighter than you expect, and he knows that this is the last time in his life he'll get to hold you like this. He sighs heavily before he pulls away, giving you a soft kiss on the top of your head before he finally lets you go, taking a step back.

"Goodbye, y/n."

"Goodbye, Yo."

You don't give him another look, turning away slowly before you head down the street. You know his eyes are still on you until you're out of sight, and if you're being honest, you needed that conversation more than you thought. Your relationship with Shindou was one that wasn't built on the best foundation, and it hurt when it finally crumbled and fell.

Talking to him for the last time gave you the last bit of closure that you didn't know you needed, and you walk back home in a lighter mood than before.

You pack up your stuff when you finally get back, waiting for Shinsou to let you know when he was outside. You take one last look around your apartment, making sure you have everything before you make your way out the back of the building. You see a car when you walk out, and he rolls the window down once you come into view. He helps you put your stuff in the car, and then you're driving away.

It's dark outside, and you stay quiet for most of the ride as you look out the window. And it's not because you're feeling bad or anything, it's just that you can't believe it's come to this. You honestly never expected your dad to talk to you let alone find out where you live and where you're working. You think it's because you've been around Shinsou. Your dad must have suspicions about who this vigilante is, but that means that there could be an actual investigative case about Shinsou.

You don't think he's working alone because some of the stuff he's done, you know he wouldn't have done without help, but he hasn't mentioned anyone else. All you really know is that he's the ringleader in everything that's going on. You don't know how long you've been driving, but you're going further away from the city.

There's music softly playing from the speakers of his car, but you're not really paying attention to it. Everything was going so well, and you never expected your father to show his face, especially after that last conversation you had with him. He told you that he never wanted to see you again, and for once, that was the only thing that you had agreed on.

Your mood has definitely soured, and you feel Shinsou's hand on your thigh. He grabs your hand shortly after, giving you a kiss on the back of your hand, and you softly smile at him. You focus on the feeling of his hand for the rest of ride, trying your best to not let the recent events cloud your head too much.

He eventually slows down, turning down a dirt path that you could barely see. The sound of the car driving over the rocks fills in the noise over the music, and you look around through your window even though it's pitch black outside. You can see something coming up in the distance, and you squint as you get closer to it, your eyes honing in on a house that looks like it hasn't been touched in years.

"Please don't tell me this is where you've set up shop," you mumble, and you hear him laugh as he pulls up next to the house.

"Of course not. We all have taste," he responds, and he slows the car down in front of what looks like the start of a forest. He reaches into the console, pressing a button, and you jump when you hear something moving. You look ahead to see the trees in front of you moving, the path that looked like a dead-end now clear.

He drives forward, going through the clearing, and once he gets through, he puts the car in park before getting out. You watch as he starts to cover up the tire tracks, throwing down some downed branches just to be on the safe side before he gets back in the car. He pushes the button again, and you watch as the path disappears again.

He continues to drive, and you see another house coming up, but this one is much bigger than the one that you passed. "There's no way no one hasn't seen this, even with the trees," you comment as he pulls into the garage.

"We have some cloaking tech as well that we added just to be on the safe side," he tells you as he turns the car off. You get out, and he grabs the bags that you're going to need, deciding to worry about the other stuff later, which you don't mind. There's no lights on anywhere, not even on the outside of the house, so he holds your hand as he guides you through the dark.

You reach a wall, and you can barely see him put his hand up. You jump when you hear an automated voice say his name, and then the wall is opening. He doesn't immediately walk inside though, stepping to the side and turning to you. He pushes something on the wall where we placed his hand, and then he lifts your hand, placing it where his once was.

"Now, you're in the system," he tells you easily before he leads you into the house. The door closes behind you, and you're still in the dark, but suddenly the lights turn on. You squint quickly, your eyes taking a while to adjust to the light, and when they finally do, they widen as you take everything in.

"Oh, my God," you breathe. "This is amazing."

He chuckles. "It isn't all that." He pulls you through the house, and right now, it's just an open space, but you're still surprised nonetheless. He tells you that this room is like an additional security measure, and you find that the actual part of the house where he lives is through another wall, but this time it's more intricate to get into. Everything that you would need to get in, he makes sure that you have in, setting you up in the system until you're finally seeing what the inside actually looks like.

The first floor seems like it's five times the size of your apartment, and your eyes are wide as you take it all in. There's basic things on the first floor, like the living room, kitchen, and a gym that looks way better than anyone you've seen at the public ones. You follow him up the stairs, which has more rooms, but you decide to explore those later as sleep starts to call your name.

He takes you to his room at the end of the hall, and the bedroom alone seems to be bigger than your apartment. He carefully sets your bags down by the bed, and you admire the bed. "It looks so comfortable," you sigh. "But I wanna get in the shower first."

He leads you to the bathroom, and even though you expected it to be big, you're still surprised when you finally walk in. He turns the shower on, and he undresses you, putting your hair up and in a shower cap before gently pushing into the shower. You groan softly as the water hits your skin, and you turn around, letting the water hit all of you. You hear the door open and close again, and you wipe the water out of your eyes as you turn around.

Shinsou tenderly grabs your face in his hands, giving you a soft kiss. "You okay?" he asks you quietly. "I know these past couple of days have been pretty hectic."

You respond with a small nod. "I'll be okay eventually. I think seeing my mom and then that whole thing with my dad just kinda through me for a loop."

"Have you talked to her yet?" he asks and you shake your head.

"Not yet. But, I will first thing tomorrow."

You told your mom everything that's been going on with you starting with what happened after she left. You told her how you got your job now, and that Miruko has been taking care of you ever since she found you. You want to tell her about the situation with your dad as soon as possible since you don't want her getting worried if you don't contact her.

Shinsou carefully washes your body, planting your face and neck with kisses every now and then before he showers himself. He dries you off when you're done, but not without some lingering touches that has you staring him down. He wraps your hair up before laying you on the bed and rubbing lotion into your skin, and once he's done with himself, he turns off the light, joining you in the massive bed

He's in your space as soon as he gets comfortable, and you curl into him as he wraps his arm around you. "Thank you for all of this," you whisper, your eyelids starting to feel heavy. "I love you."

"I love you, too, baby," he whispers back. "Sleep tight."

When you wake up, you know that you're alone. You roll over, confirming it with your eyes once they open, and you stretch before you sit up. You see one of Shinsou's sweatshirts on the bed, and you put it on before you get out of bed. You walk into the bathroom to brush your face and do your skin routine before you make your way out of the room. You can hear music coming from downstairs, so you follow it, crossing your arms as you get to the bottom of the stairs.

The music's coming from the kitchen, and you walk in to see Shinsou at the stove. He catches you walking up to him from the corner of his eye, doing a double take before smiling at you. He leans away from the stove to kiss you. "Good afternoon, baby."

"It's the afternoon?!" you exclaim softly, and you look around for a clock, seeing that it's a little past one o'clock.

"Yeah, you were sleeping like the dead," he teases and you yawn again.

"I guess I really needed that sleep." He chuckles softly, and you stand next to him, leaning on him as you watch him cook. When he's done, you both sit at the island to eat, staying silent as you do. The silence isn't awkward, and with Shinsou next to you, it's more than welcomed.

"You ready to meet everybody?" he asks once you're done eating, and he takes the dishes to the sink to wash them.

"Are they gonna welcome me?" you say around an uneasy chuckle.

"Of course. They're chill people," he answers. "Well, except for one, but he's always been like that."

You nod at his words even though he can't see you, and he dries his hands once he's done with the dishes. He walks back over to you, grabbing your hand to gently pull you out of your seat. "Don't worry too much. You'll be fine," he reassures, and you wordlessly follow him out of the kitchen.

He walks down a hallway until he reaches a door, scanning his hand on the hidden panel so that the door can open. You follow him down the stairs as the door closes behind you, and when you can hear voices, you start to get a little nervous.

"Took you long enough," you hear once you reach the bottom, and you walk into an open room.

"It's not like we're doing anything urgent today anyway," Shinsou counters as you look around the room. There's a bunch of screens on one side of the wall, and there's a table in the middle of the room with a holographic map of the city. The other side of the room as computers with a bunch of stuff on the screen that you don't really try to read right now. Your eyes scan through the faces that are in the room next, and they're all looking at you, but you don't know what to say.

"I never thought you would introduce us to the girl that makes you go MIA for days," one of them suddenly says, and she stands up, walking over to you. "I'm Mina."

"Nice to meet you," you say quietly, shaking her hand.

"This is Bakugou, Sero, Denki, and Kirishima," she introduces quickly after, and they all give you either a wave or a nod of their head except for Bakugou. You assume that's who Shinsou was referring to earlier.

"Nice to meet you guys." Everyone goes back to their conversations shortly after, and you sigh internally in relief since you were worried it was going to get awkward.

"Relax, we're not gonna hurt you," Mina laughs, guiding you towards a small table at the side of the room. Shinsou focuses his attention on one of the screens at the other side of the room as Mina continues to talk to you. "So, what brings you here?"

"Some family stuff," you answer. "My dad is currently looking for me, which is not a good thing," you laugh bitterly.

"Is he a hero?"

You nod, taking a few seconds before you say his name. "He's Envenom."

"Your dad is Envenom?!" you hear someone yell, and you jump softly as you try to figure out who just yelled. You assume it's Kirishima because he's walking over to you. "Does your quirk have something to do with venom then?"

"Kinda. I mostly use it for healing though since that's my mom quirk. The only way I can use my poison is if I really hate the person," you huff.

"A healing quirk?" Denki speaks up, walking over to you as well. "I got this nasty gash while training, and it hurts like a bitch," he groans, and he lifts up his sleeve to show you.

You grimace a bit. What kind of training do they do here?

You hold your hand out, telling him to come closer, and he holds his arm out to you. You spread the substance from your fingers over the gash. "It won't heal overnight, but it'll speed up the process. And it shouldn't hurt as much now."

"It's like it never happened," he laughs, shaking his arm and you can't help but smile as you watch him.

You see Bakugou stand up suddenly and walk over to Shinsou. "Her dad's one of the top pro-heroes, and you brought her here?" Even though he's whispering, you can hear him loud and clear, and you shrink into yourself a bit.

"Relax, Bakugou. He's a piece of shit. He won't come anywhere near here," you hear Shinsou respond, and you don't hear the rest of the conversation because Mina catches you attention again.

"So, you have some bad beef with your dad or something?" she asks, and now that everyone's attention is on you, you feel nervous to answer.

"He wanted me to be the best hero because he couldn't," you say, giving the bare minimum, but everyone seems to understand. "He didn't treat me or my mom good, and we both left as soon as we could." You look down at your hands, taking a deep breath as you try not to let the bad memories flood in. "I haven't seen him in years, and he showed at my apartment two days ago. I don't really know what he wants from me."

Mina rubs over your back, and you look up to see Bakugou looking at you, but once you meet his eyes, he looks away, busying himself with something else. "I'm glad that you got out," Sero says, and you give him a small smile as you focus on the people next to you.

"We can take him down if you want. I'm itching to be out there again anyway," Denki sighs.

"Maybe, I'll take you up on that one day," you say around a smile.

Shinsou interrupts the conversation a little while later, wanting to start talking about the plans that they have before they're finally done. You stay in your seat, going back and forth between listening and zoning out. There's still a part of you that has anxiety about your dad and if he's actually been following you.

You feel like there's no reason for him to be doing any of this, but maybe he just can't get over his ego. You were able to contact to your mother and tell her everything that's happened. You reassured her that you were okay, but you told her that you probably wouldn't be able to contact her as much just to be on the safe side. You know that your dad wouldn't try to track her down, but you don't know how confident you can be on that anymore.

There's a deck of cards on the table, so you busy yourself with that as they talk. You're half listening to what they're saying, starting to go into your own world, and you don't even realize that they're done until you see Shinsou come up to you out of the corner of your eye.

"You didn't have to stay, y'know?" he says, and you collect all of the cards.

"I just didn't feel like getting up," you muse, putting the cards back before you stand up. Before Shinsou can say anything, Mina's speeding by and pulling you away.

"It's so nice to have another girl here. There's so much I can finally talk about that someone will actually care about!" she says quickly before she pulls you up the stairs, and Shinsou laughs as he watches you go.

~

Shinsou's already moved all of your stuff into the house. Apparently, everyone has their own part of the house, which explains why you never seen anyone moving about. Shinsou moved all of your art stuff into one of the empty rooms that was on the hall, and you spend most of your time here when everyone's out doing what they need to scope out who their next target it.

You're sitting on the stool in your art room in front of one of the paintings you were working on before you left your apartment. You don't really have an end goal to the painting, you just started it because you needed something to do to cure your boredom. Your mind isn't really empty like it usually is, and you just have so many thoughts running through your head that you're close to just finding something else to do.

You sigh, putting the paintbrush down with the intention of finding something else to do. You jump when someone clears their throat, and you look to your left to see Bakugou standing in the doorway. "You mind if I come in?" he asks quietly, and you shake your head as you shrug.

"Come to tell me that Shinsou shouldn't have brought me here," you say, half-joking. His steps falter a bit, and he looks at a loss for words. "I'm just joking, Bakugou," you laugh. "I don't blame you for being skeptical of me, but I'm gonna be honest, I don't know if my dad is still after me or not. And if there's a chance that he does find this place, I take full responsibility."

He nods carefully, taking some time before he speaks. "Do you have any idea what he'd do if he found you here?" he asks, and you shake your head.

"I have no clue. I seriously thought he was done with me, so I don't get his deal. Maybe it's his ego or something."

"There's a chance that could be the reason. That seems to be one of the things those top heroes have in common," he says. "Having big fucking egos and being too cocky." You laugh softly, glancing at your painting as silence fills the room again. "You talked to, uh," he starts, and you look at him. "You talked to Izuku, right?"

You frown, looking around as you think before putting your eyes on him. "Deku?"

"Yeah, yeah. You saw him, right?"

You nod. "We talked after he came to my job. Shinsou didn't tell you?"

Bakugou sighs. "He did, but he's always been very vague sometimes," he answers, and you just stare at him. He clears his throat, crossing his arms over his chest. "What?"

"You wanna know how he's doing, don't you?" You smirk as Bakugou scoffs, trying to find somewhere else in the room to look. You stand up, walking up to him, and he takes a while to meet your eyes. "He's frustrated. Apparently, he really wants to remedy all of the corruption, but I think he knows that even if he does that now, it won't stop."

"He's always been stubborn like that," he whispers after he huffs.

"I can't really give you anything else. Our conversation was pretty short."

"Did--Did he ask about me?" he asks cautiously, and you try to figure out how to answer without hurting his feelings too bad.

"I'm not sure if he knows that any of you are a part of this," you say. "I think a lot of people suspect that Shinsou's not working alone, but no one has a clue who you guys could be." Bakugou stays silent as he nods. "Also, I told him that I wasn't a part of this, so even if he did ask about you, I wouldn't even know who you are."

Shinsou told you about how him and everyone got in this place at first. They all went to high school together, but only a few of them chose this path. Bakugou was actually the last person to join, which was unexpected for you to hear. No one tried to convince any of their friends that chose the pro-hero path to join them, knowing that it was their choice to go that route.

After what happened in high school, a lot of them decided that hero work wasn't for them, and as they got older, they only realized how bad it was on the inside. One by one everyone started to join, and they've been running together ever since.

"It's just--we've been doing this for years, and now he decides that he wants in?" Bakugou sighs.

"Well, you did say that he's pretty stubborn," you say. "So, he's probably been trying to fix this for a while, but he didn't want to believe that he couldn't stop all of this." You sit back down on the stool.

"I don't even know if we can trust him. What if it's all just an act?" he voices aloud.

"Do you think he's capable of doing something like that to you guys?"

"Who knows? It's been years since we've all seen each other. A lot has happened." You don't respond, and Bakugou eventually sighs, shaking his head. "Sorry, for talking your ear off. I bet you didn't want me to bother you with all of this."

"Don't worry about it, Bakugou," you say softly after you laugh. "I'm always here if you need someone to talk to."

~

"Where are you taking me?" you question, waving your hands out in front of you.

"It's a surprise, baby. Just be patient," Shinsou laughs.

You've been at Shinsou's house for a few months now, and you've settled in nicely with everyone. You hang out with them for most of the day, playing games or just having conversations that go late into the night. They've already been on two big missions, and you've been there anxiously waiting for them to come back.

Thankfully, they've all come back, but not without some injuries. You do your best to heal them as much as you can, knowing a bit about suture techniques thanks to your mom, but you're definitely nowhere near a doctor. They have one last mission before they finally call it, and you can tell that it's got everyone on edge. The atmosphere has definitely changed. It's nothing major, but you can tell that everyone, yourself included, are counting down the days until it happens.

"I'm blindfolded, Toshi. Can you blame me for being impatient?"

You were packing up your stuff, getting ready to head out once they finally completed their final mission. They're able to do it from the hideout, so while they were putting in the last touches, you started to get everything together. Once you got the majority of it, you helped Shinsou pack the car. When he was done, he turned to you, suddenly putting something around your head so that it covers your eyes.

He guided you back into the house, and know you have no idea where you are. You hear a door open, and the chill air from outside hits your skin, making you shiver a bit. He stops you from walking with his hands on your shoulders, and you can hear him take a couple of steps away from you. "Okay, take it off."

You quickly untie the fabric, and you blink rapidly. Your eyes widen when you see what's in front of you as your mouth drops open. "What is all of this?" you ask. He's led you to the roof, where he has a blanket and candles set up. You walk over to it, and he's quick to follow, guiding you to sit down.

He sighs softly as he gets comfortable. "Well, we've been together for some time now," he starts, and you can tell that he's nervous. "Over a year now, which is crazy to me," he huffs, like he can't believe it, and hell, you can't really believe it either. "I just wanted to do something to celebrate that, and I thought you'd like the stars too."

You look up at the sky, not even realizing that you can see what seems like a million stars. You gasp as you look across the dark sky, and you hear him shift next to you, so you look back at him. Your eyes widen again when you see a small box in his hand, and you scoot a bit closer to him.

"Please don't tell me that's what I think it is."

He laughs, letting his head fall for a second before he shakes it. "No, it's not. I'd choose a much better setup when I propose to you." Your heart swells at his words, choosing to stay silent. He opens the box, revealing a gold ring. He takes it out, holding it up to you as he sets the box aside. "This is a promise that I'll keep you safe for the rest of our lives. That I'll always find you no matter what situations come at us in the future."

You look at the ring, dipping your head a bit to see that the inside is engraved. He shifts it, so that you can see the words in the moon and candlelight.

I'll always find you, and I'll always love you

"Toshi," you breathe after you read it, and he grabs your hand, sliding it onto your finger. You rub your finger over it as you admire it. You surge forward to kiss him, knocking him back. He catches himself quickly, holding you in his arms as he lays back against the blanket. "I love you."

"I love you, too, baby." You look at it again, giggling softly against your will, and he smiles as he watches you.

"Hey--"

He's cut off by a sudden explosion that has the both of you jumping up in an instant. You hear loud alarms going off, and the both of you are quick to stand up. Before you can even process what's happening, there's a helicopter flying over the house, and something falls from it.

Shinsou suddenly grabs you, jumping to the side. "Cover your ears!" You do it quickly, and even with your hands cupped tightly over your ears, you still hear the loud explosion as you hit the ground. Everything is spinning, and then you suddenly feel weightless. You scream as you fall through the roof, keeping your eyes closed and ears covered as Shinsou keeps you in his hold.

When it finally seems like your stomach settles, you look around, and the moment you take your hands off of your ears, the blaring of the alarms are nearly deafening. You try to move, but it hurts to move, and you look under to see Shinsou laying there. "Toshi!" you gasp. You wince as you move off of him, sitting up on your knees. "Toshi, baby, wake up!" you yell, shaking him. You lean forward with your hand on his chest, and you nearly cry when you feel he's still breathing.

You jump back when he gasps, sitting up quickly. He looks around, groaning loudly, and then he suddenly turns his attention to you. "I knew this was fucking trouble," he groans, and he reaches for your necklace, snatching it from your neck.

"Shinsou, my mom gave that to me!" you yell, and he throws it on the ground, taking a brick from the rubble and smashing it. You scream, about to yell at him again, but then he picks something up. Your body runs cold when you see what it is. "Oh, my God." You hold your hand over your neck. "My dad said that my mom left that when she left." It finally hits you. "This is all my fault."

Shinsou grimaces as he stands up, grabbing your hand to pull you up. "Focus, baby. We gotta get outta here." You let him lead the way through the rubble, and you hear more explosion throughout. It doesn't even look close to the house that you've been in for the last few months.

He takes a back way to where the car is, and you try to move as fast as you can, but once you get to the car, you hear something crackling. "Shinsou, you gotta get down here!" It's Denki, and it's coming from the radio that's attached to his hip. "Mina doesn't have time to send the files!"

Shinsou swears loudly. If they don't get those files out, then all of this was for nothing. "I'm on my way," he says back before throwing the radio on the ground.

"I'm going with you."

"Absolutely not," he states. He winces as he takes the keys out of his pocket, putting them into your hand. "You get into the car, and you drive as far as you can without stopping. Do not look back."

"Hitoshi, I am not leaving you!"

"Yes! Yes, you are! I promised you and your mom that I would keep you safe!" You still haven't let go of him, and you don't know if you have it in you. He moves forward suddenly, giving you a long kiss that nearly takes your breath away. "I love you."

"That sounds a lot like a "goodbye" I love you," you tell him.

"I'll always find you." He starts to leave, making sure that you don't follow him.

"Toshi, don't leave me," you say, tears forming in your eyes. "Toshi!" He doesn't stop, and you nearly scream in frustration as you watch him leave. "I love you!"

He finally turns around, giving you a big smile, and you watch him go for a little bit longer until you hear another explosion. You quickly get into the car as you sob, barely being able to see due to your tears blurring your vision. You keep driving until you get to the road, and you follow his instructions and keep driving. You can see the house in the distance, up in flames, and you will yourself to keep driving.

Immediately, there's a big explosion, way bigger than the ones before that makes the house exploded. You quickly stop the car, getting out as you scream Hitoshi's name. You cry louder and harder than before, but you suddenly hear something coming up the road. You're quick to get back in the car, speeding off, but there's no way you stop crying.

You make it to a motel once the gas tank is nearly empty. You slowly pull into a parking spot, and you turn the car off, the silence so loud that you can hear your ears ringing. You cry again when your eyes land on the ring on your finger, and your chest heaves before you scream as loud as you can.

You sit in the car crying until your head is pounding, and you find one of Shinsou's sweatshirts on the passenger seat. You grab it before getting out of the car, and you slowly make your way inside. The person at the check-in desk looks completely bored, which you don't blame them since it's around three in the morning, and there's no one out right now.

When you walk up to the desk, their tired eyes widen a bit in surprise as they take you in. You didn't even think about what you probably look like; covered in dust and probably with bruises and cuts, and to top it all off, there's dried and wet tear tracks on your face.

"I, uh, need a room for a couple of days," you whisper, and you rest your hands on the counter as the events hit you again.

"Is it just you?" they ask, and you look at your hand again, your lip trembling as you run your finger over the ring once again.

"My, um--" You take a deep breath, wiping the tears that fall. "My boyfriend is coming soon." Even though you saw the house explode, you still don't believe that he's dead. He wouldn't lie to you. "So, could you just give him a key when he gets here?"

"Y-Yeah, of course," they answer, nodding their head. They check you in, telling you to worry about paying later, and you thank them softly, taking the key and walking to your room.

You get in the shower as soon as you lock the door, wincing when the hot water hits all of the cuts on your body. You can't even look at yourself in the mirror when you get out, drying off before healing yourself up. You put a tank top and some shorts once you think you got everything, and you're glad that you didn't break anything.

You grab Shinsou's sweatshirt, putting it on before you get into bed. You roll over to look out of the window, and you cry again until you fall asleep.

~

For the past couple of days, you've woken up with a headache and terribly swollen eyes. You haven't left the room, only leaving the bed to go to the bathroom. You haven't eaten, but there isn't any part of you that's telling you that you're hungry. You've been staring out the window, watching the animals move the only thing that can keep you from crying until you start to think too much.

Every now and then you take a deep breath of the sweatshirt, as that's the only thing that smells like him that you have. You tried to watch TV, but the first thing that came on was the news reporting about the house explosion. You immediately turned it off as you felt that lump in your throat appear again.

By the time a week has passed, you don't feel any better, but your body is screaming for some food. You forced yourself to eat some snacks, but it definitely wasn't enough. It takes a long time for you to get out of bed, but when you finally do, you make your way to the lobby to eat breakfast. You end up eating a lot, which isn't unexpected since you haven't had any real food in days.

You finish eating quickly since they have the news playing in the lobby, and you can't stand to listen to it anymore. You move the ring across your fingers as you walk back to your room, and you try your best not to cry again. You don't know if your head can take it anymore.

When you get into the room, the first thing you notice is that the bathroom door is closed and the light is on. You frown, immediately on edge, preparing to bolt out of the room. You definitely left it cracked, and you made sure the light was off. Before you can even move, the door swings open, and you're getting ready to bolt until you see who it is.

"How did you manage to get so far? Took me forever to get to this place."

You cross the room in a split second, jumping into Hitoshi's arms as you start to sob again.

"Ouch," he groans, but he hugs you tightly nonetheless. "Take it easy, will ya."

You lift your head up so you can kiss him, your hands trembling as you cup his face. "I-I thought--" You can't even finish, kissing him again until you're out of breath.

He rubs over your face, wiping your tears as he looks over your face. "What'd I tell you, baby?" he prompts. "I'll always find you."

[kissami]

HEAVEN AND BACK

sum. after a tough breakup, you find comfort in things you never thought you would do.

fem!reader with she/her pronouns

warnings: drug usage, very rushed, angry katsuki but the usual, y/n is a mess lol and kinda a crybaby srry I was pmsing when I wrote this…

inspo: heavily inspired by Heaven and back by chase Atlantic I love that song sm gn

not proof read sorry I’m lazy I’ll edit it later, YOU’VE BEEN WARNED

She was always dealing with the devil

She was always into taking those chances, yeah

“Thank you, have a wonderful day.” You smiled at the customer as they grabbed their cigarettes and left the convenience store you worked at.

It was currently 7:47 PM, and all you wanted to do was be at home with your cat and sleep.

But it’s never sleep when it comes to you. It’s always work, study, work, work, repeat. Living alone was stressful, especially when you didn’t have a support system like you used to.

Your support system..your precious katsuki. Gosh how much you missed him. That night of your breakup was one of the worst things you had ever experienced.

It wasn’t like the time when you lost your pet turtle and it crawled into your father’s work boots, leading to its awful death.

It wasn’t like the time you lost the charm bracelet your best friend had gotten you for your birthday in 7th grade.

No, nothing could ever compare to the way you felt like your heart was yanked out of your chest and tossed aside like a rock.

“Being in a relationship with you is exhausting.” You remembered saying to him as he was ranting about god knows what. You didn’t remember why you two argued, or how you two got in that position.

“Are you fucking serious?” You finally realized what you had said, going up to him to apologize.

But all you remember is him scoffing with tears in his pretty ruby eyes and yanking his jacket off the coat rack, slamming the door harshly. That was the last time you seen him.

“Hi is your lane open?”

You looked up, seeing three girls who were dressed in tight dresses, fur coats with huge smiles on their faces. You caught a whiff of the familiar green plant many would find relief in and their bloodshot eyes as they looked at you in excitement.

“Yes of course. Is this all?” You scanned the bottles of Pedialyte, chuckling as the girls began to ramble.

“You’re really pretty to be working at a place like this?” One girl with brown hair and pink highlights said, holding onto her phone.

“Oh uh thanks?” You blinked at her, looking back down as you scanned the Tylenol.


“We’re going to a party later, you should definitely come! When does your shift end?” You sighed, looking at the clock. These girls didn’t even know you and they wanted to party with you?

“It ends now, but look I don’t really go out at all though so-“

“Even more reason to come! Come on! It’ll be fun!” The shorter girl with curls said as she shoved her pixie stick in her mouth.

“I don’t even know your names.” You tried to explain, shaking your head in disagreement to this idea of theirs.

“I’m Yei, this is Lumi and Honey. We already know your name,” Yei the girl with blue hair pointed to your name tag giggling. “So there’s no other excuse. Please come with us.”

“I think that’s an amazing idea.” You felt a soft shove, looking over to see your coworker Ley looking down at you smiling.

“But I-“

“Go, Y/N. You’ve been working too hard and I know Layla asked for you to cover her shift for tonight but I refuse. As your boss and your friend, go have fun.” You sighed, nodding as you handed Ley your work apron.

Some would say it was pretty weird to have a boss who treated you this way, but you’ve know Ley since middle school. He was basically one of the reasons you still had a job here.

“I don’t even have anything to wear though.” You walked next to the girls as they dragged you along.

Said she met a couple other women

Who were into going late night dancing, yeah

You side glanced at the numerous people that were dancing along with the loud music, smoke overtaking the air as you clenched onto one of the girls’ hand, following them as they led you in further into the party.

You sighed a deep breath, feeling anxious as you watched everyone pushing and grinding on one another.

Gosh you wished you could call Katsuki to be here. Or even to just take you home.

“Hey, have a drink you look stressed.” Lumi laughed as she passes you a red cup. You gulped, smiling as you clenched it in your palm.

“Hey leave her alone, she said she’s not one to party so maybe she’s just not used to this environment.” Honey gave you a side hug and rubbed your shoulders in comfort.

‘I want to go home.’ You thought as you started to sip on the drink, making a small face at the sweetness of the alcoholic beverage, but still not putting it down.

“Mina said she was coming over with her friends.” You tensed up as you heard your old friend’s name from Yei who put her phone back in her small clutch, going back to downing the small shot glasses that were scattered around the counter.

“Mina as in-“ before you could finish, you felt warm soft arms grab your hands, squealing in your ear as you turned around to see the familiar pink girl looking at you in excitement.

“Y/N what are you doing here?!?” She asked, grabbing her hands tightly again smiling widely.

“Oh I was just-“ you looked up for a second and took a double take as you saw him.

Katsuki, standing in all his glory. His large arms in full display in that black wife beater tank, the chain that hung on the side of his loose jeans and your favorite gold chain that laid so gorgeously on his neck. You saw that he got an eyebrow piercing along with two more ear piercings and with pretty gold rings that hugged his fingers perfectly.

The fingers that were wrapped around a girl’s waist tightly.

Your breath hitched as you watched the way he smiled smugishly into the heated kiss with the girl who looked like an angel.

She was the complete opposite of you. So perfect.

You stared back at Mina with wide eyes, making her frown as she slightly turned around to see what you were looking at.

Her deep sigh of disappointment was all you needed to know.

You pulled away from Mina, walking to the bathroom as a loud sigh escaped out of your chest.

“Stupid stupid stupid.” You kept repeating to yourself as you started to put cold water on your face to cool down.

A loud knock interrupted your mini crisis. “Hey we need the bathroom!” A girl yelled, twisting the doorknob annoyingly.

“Sorry.” You whispered as you walked out, seeing two girls drag in a boy with blond hair with a lightening streak who was smiling dumbly. You now realized it was Denki who was dragged into the bathroom.

Good for him. You thought with a small smile. You began to make your way out, only to be caught by the wrist.

Looking back, you saw the face you were dreading to see now.

“Let me go, Katsuki.” You spoke sternly, yanking your arm away. You saw a small glance of hurt in his eyes that was quickly overtaken by the look of anger.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He asked, looking over your shoulder and back at you.

“Who are you with?” You rubbed your face in annoyance and frustration. “That’s none of your business.” You heard a small huff from him, seeing the way he licked his lips in irritation.

A habit you used to love because he looked so good doing it.

“It is my business when you-“ you felt another pair of hands grab your shoulder, being shoved back into a rough chest.

“Is this guy bothering you?” You looked up, feeling your breath hitch at the gorgeous man that stood before you.

He had a tight compressed black shirt with gray sweatpants. Pretty green eyes and raven black hair as he looked at Katsuki.

“Uh what?” You asked to yourself, looking back and forth as you soon realized you were in a muscle sandwich.

“Who the fuck are you?!” Katsuki barked, feeling a vein pop out of his forehead.

“Katsuki.” You spoke softly, looking up at him as he laughed softly.

“Whatever, Y/N. Do whatever the fuck you want. I’m sick of worrying about you and your stupid decisions.” He brushed you off, walking back to the girl from earlier as he grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the party.

You felt your heart hurt a bit, gulping at the way he tenderly talked to her as they left, without a second glance.

“What a crappy ex huh?” The guy joked softly, looking back down at you.

“You seem like you need something to get your mind off things.”

Then she fell in love with a pill, that could take away all her pain, yeah

“What is this?” You twirled the pastel rainbow pills in the small shot glass, looking up at the guy whos name was Kyle, in curiosity.

“I like to call them my happy pills. Come on, try it. Let it course through your veins as all your worries leave you.” He sat back in the raggedy couch that was in the basement as he smoked a joint.

You scratched your neck, feeling a bit tense and bothered as you saw the gray sweatpants that hugged his waist as he man-spread.

“I’m not gonna die, right?” You never did anything like this before, and you had no idea why you were even trusting this man with anything he was giving you.

But you were a whore for a man in a tight black shirt that showed all his good..qualities.

Then she fell in love with a whole new drug

That could fill her veins

And then

An hour later, you were laughing hysterically as you drank, looking around the room.

You felt like you were floating, never had you felt so alive before. This was a new sense of happiness you haven’t felt in all your years.

You started to feel addicted to this feeling.

She's high

She lives in the sky

Tonight, she's satisfied

Rolling back her eyes

You put your hand up, turning it as you inspected it in curiosity. Giving a side glance, you saw Kyle talking to his group of friends, smiling over to you.

You fell on the couch face first, groaning as you felt your vision start to blur.

“What?” You asked, seeing blobs looking down at you, shaking for you to stay awake.

“I’m having fun, leave me alone.” You giggle, pushing one of the face’s away, humming a song softly.

“Katsuki, please take her home.” Honey was looking down at you in worry, wiping your sweat off your forehead as she spoke in the phone.

There were incoherent voices in the background that you happily blocked as you sipped on another drink that was passed down to you.

“Get up.” After a good fifteen minutes of pure bliss when honey hung up the phone, you looked up confused to see him staring down at you completely pissed.

You looked around as Lumi helped you stand, seeing the girl who Katsuki was with looking at him annoyed but she was now sitting on Kyle’s lap drinking.

“Huh?” You asked, pushing his face aside when he tried to help you walk.

You limply looked up at him, seeing him even more mad than before had you sober up a tiny bit.

But then she starts to cry

Everything is turning to black

He lead you outside to his car, his keys jingling around while he helped you to sit inside.

You nuzzled up to the familiar texture of his seats that you used to sit in countless times before.

It was silent the whole ride and you began to cry.

Not just a normal sniffle cry. But a gut wrenching wail, the endless tears falling down your cheeks.

“Don’t be mad at me. Please I’m sorry.” You said clearly extremely intoxicated, watching him clench the steering wheel.

“I’m not mad!” He yelled, making you tense up and cry again.

“I-I’m not mad at you…okay? Whatever happened before….i forgave you for it. I’m mad at myself because I fucking left you!” You could hear the way his voice sounded so distraught and upset that it made you scotch closer to the car door a bit more.

“And what the fuck did you take?! How fucking stupid are you to do something like this? Did you even know that fucking guy?? You’re fucking smarter than this, Y/N what were you thinking??”

You felt your cheeks burn from the alcohol, the embarrassment, and the frustration.

“I wasn’t okay? I wasn’t thinking.”

“Fucking clearly. What the fuck happened to you?” You sat up, looking at him completely heartbroken as he spoke those words to you.

“It’s you! It’s all you!” You cried out. Katsuki looked at you, extremely pissed now as he slammed the car breaks which made the car shriek.

“Oh so it’s my fault now?!” Katsuki now turned his whole body to you, pushing the driver seat back so he was more comfortable as he faced you.

You scoffed, trying to open the car door only for him to reach over and slam it shut, along with putting the child locks on.

“You’re not fucking leaving. We’re going to talk. What the hell is going on?”

You looked at him as your head limply fell back, lightly hitting the seat as tears streamed your face.

“I was doing fine. Then these girls picked me up after my shift and then I went to that stupid party! Then I see you there, making out with the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. I was so upset i ran to the bathroom but then denki and some girls came in so then I left only to bump into you! After that you started being a fucking asshole which made that dude come over! The-then he gave me these pills. They made me feel fucking incredible!!”

Katsuki’s mouth opened like a fish out of water, his eyes wide as you rambled.

“So there! That’s what’s wrong with me!” Reaching over his lap, you unlocked the car and got out.

As soon as you did, the cool fresh air hit you instantly, making you hunch over as you started to throw up everything in your system.

You heaved, throwing up even more as you clenched onto the tree that was on the side of the road.

You heard the door slam and a comforting rub on your back the more you threw up.

“It’s okay. Let it out.” You turned around, feeling your legs get wobbly as you pushed his hands off.

“You said you could care less about me so leave me alone.” You spoke drunkenly, only for your head to roll back and everything going black for you.

Katsuki sighed as you plopped on the dried orange leaves that luckily saved your fall.

All in one night

She just went to heaven and back

You slowly opened your eyes, seeing that you were in the back of his car, laying across the seats with his jacket that used to be your favorite to steal.

You watched him skip through songs, groaning at the annoying stations that played.

“Who was she?” You almost laughed at the way he jumped, turning to see you sitting up now.

“Jesus fuck, you scared the hell out of me.” you could practically hear the way his heart was racing and ponding from the tight grip he had on the steering wheel.

“Answer my question.” Katsuki stayed silent.

“Just…a girl I started talking to.” Humming in response, you leaned your head against the car window.

“That’s why I did it. As pathetic as it sounds, I took those pills to forget about tonight. To get that imagine of you kissing her so lovingly out of my fucking head.” You didn’t realize just how much you started to cry, only seeing your tears landing on your hands that were laying on your lap.

“Y/N-“

“It’s my fault though. I was so stressed with school and making sure I had enough money for the week that I was so mean to you when you tried to talk to me that night. I’m sorry I said you were exhausting. I’m sorry I’ve been a shitty girlfriend to you, I’m sorry for everything.”

Silence.

You wanted to bury yourself in embarrassment at the way you had rambled your apology, overthinking that maybe he didn’t give a shit about you or your relationship anymore.

“I can see you having a fight with yourself, stop it.” Katsuki gave you a deep sigh, thinking for a bit before he gave himself a small nod.

“Don’t…apologize. I was being an asshole too and pushing your limits when you were saying you weren’t in the mood to speak. I should’ve given you your space. I’m sorry I fucking kissed that girl.”

Before you could respond, he parked the car and you finally realized where you were at now. You were parked right outside his apartment.

The door opened and Katsuki sat next to you.

“Look at me,” he grabbed your hand. “I’m sorry. We both were…really shitty with each other and I’m sorry. I want…to work things out. Maybe it isn’t our time yet, but I just want you.” Katsuki looked down at you, wiping your cheeks.

“I love you. So much. But I can’t…not right now. Not when I have so much regret and resentment with myself for letting this shit happen to you.”

You hum, looking down at your hands as you were thinking of what to say.

“It’s crazy how much shit can happen in one night huh…but can I ask a favor from you?” He looked at you, waiting for you to continue.

“Can we stay like this? Just for tonight like old times? Before I lose you again?”

[ystrike1]

My Righteous Older Brother - By Morie Satoshi (9/10)

Assault is not a laughing matter. It's not something that should be brushed off, ever. It's a crime that destroys what that person is. Yes, even the most charming perpetrator becomes worth less than dirt when they commit such a crime. Two victims of the same man meet, and they cover up his death to create a better life for themselves.

Rize loved her brother.

She hasn't seen him in two years.

He was her rock. The only member of her family that loved her. Her mother left to find a new man and love. Her father was a heartless man, who only cared about fleeting pleasures. Never his two children. Rize and her brother were left adrift, trying to survive during a messy divorce....where neither parent wanted either of them.

It's tough to think about, but there are parents in this world who start over. Fathers who forget about their children. Mothers who want to have better children. Monsters that will hurt unwanted children to get the perfect life they desire. Rize is alone now, but she trusts her brother. She knows he will return, because he loves her genuinely.

When she's not in school she's working.

There's a hot guy at work named Kairi.

He reminders her of her brother.

Her righteous, upstanding and sweet brother.

He's handsome and popular and charming.

He seeks her out for comfort and chatter, when they're alone, like her brother did.

Rize is pretty busy though. Her friend is a cop, and she's investigating her brothers disappearance.

He hasn't contacted her for too long.

Rize chats with Kairi. They become close. They fall in mutual love. They're awkward about it. Rize is still obsessed with finding her missing brother. They hug. They sleep next to each other. They're vulnerable and sweet as can be.....Rize finds his unhinged diary.

Kairi killed someone.

He feels guilty, but he didn’t turn himself in, and he wants Rize to believe in him.

She flips out. She tells him the sick truth, to hurt him. To destroy his growing love for her. Yes, she thought he was special. But, that was originally because he reminded her of her brother. Her feelings were abnormal. They came from a wrong and lonely place inside her.

Kairi tells her that her feelings are normal, and she's allowed to enjoying cuddling and closeness with people that aren't her brother.

Kairi explains.

He has a strong but twisted sense of justice. He was close to one of his teachers in high school. He admired her. His father also worked at the school. His father assaulted that teacher he admired. He tied her up while she was drunk.

That teacher begged for help. Kairi tried, but he was only a child. His family eventually disowned him and even that teacher, the woman he risked everything for, turned against him when he wasn't able to steal the evidence for her. For a legal case a child should have never, ever been involved in.

He dropped out of school.

That's how his perfect, handsome life ended. That's why he works at a convenience store with Rize.

When the truth is out Kairi tries to walk into the ocean.

He wants Rize to have her revenge, and he happy.

He knows she deserves it.

She says she loves him.

She thought about revenge, but there's no point.

Her rock. Her brother. The perfect man.

He never existed.

Kyoka is a victim of assult. She breaks the law to help her savior. Kairi did kill Rize's brother. It was wrong, but in the process he saved Kyoka's life.

Rize's beloved brother was going to assault her, beat her, and leave her for dead in the street.

When Kairi saved her his damaged and twisted sense of justice took over. Rize's brother was sort of his friend, but he didn’t hesitate. Rize's brother tried to convince him to become a criminal too. He was a serial rapist, and he also tried to sell the fun of it to Kairi. He said Kairi should have some too. He pointed at the bleeding girl on his bed, and told him to have fun.

Kairi lost it, to save that girl and to take revenge for himself. Giving Rize's brother a chance, a true friend, was a waste of time.

He was already gone.

Kyoka lies to the police for Kairi, and Rize. They all deserve to live happily, and the rapist who died did not. Kyoka took on the risk of lying to save her savior, because suffering more over a dead rapist went against her ideals.

Rize must face the painful truth. Her dad isn't coming back. Her mom started a new life without her, and her brother abandoned her to prey on women in the streets.

She doesn't have to wait any longer.

She's free to start a new life too.

.

By the way Kairi legally becomes her brother to hide from the cops, and they live happily ever after.

[hexonthepeach]

perfume - k.dy

pairing: f4!nct doyoung x fem!reader (past johnny x reader mentions)

genre: hana yori dango/boys over flowers/meteor garden/f4 thailand reverse harem au (mild allusions and characterization only)

warnings:

bully-to-friends-to-lovers, established relationship, polyamory, dom!doyoung, glucose father adjacent, scent kink, control over food consumption/bathing (for scent kink purposes only), gratuitous use of the l-word by anti-romantics, angst/feelings, flashbacks and history

🔞 edging, cockwarming, orgasm denial, oral (m/f receiving), passionate sex, rough sex, spanking, creampie, bukkake, consensual negotiated kink (degradation, somnophilia), anal play (f receiving)

wordcount: 20k

author's note: this is a doyoung-centered continuation of my ongoing F4 au. it can stand on it's own but i recommend reading Dive for more context. Doyoung's role in the F4 is Sojirou Nishikado/So Yijung/Ximen/Kavin (playboy control freak) so this fic incorporates elements of his secondary romance within the original/adaptations, now with y/n.

read on AO3

fic headers / dividers credit to @ saradika + please do not repost

Freshman year, Kocher International. 

Head down in your books at lunch, trying so hard to escape scrutiny from above, you pretend to be no one. 

It shouldn't be hard to be nobody, otherwise ignored and immune to whatever social contract deliberates your life. In a better world you'd be invisible. It's a superpower you'd wish for much more over the usual playground answers of super speed or control of the weather. 

Let me be unobserved, you'd thought. Let me open a door and not worry about a bucket full of dirty mop water falling on my head or the inevitable posting of a grainy video of it, posted in a Telegram channel to fulfill some checklist made up by bored, rich monsters. 

Your four-generation-behind phone with its cracked screen proved useful in some regards; you never heard about these public pillories until some kind stranger sent you a screenshot of them, usually in the context of whatever plans they'd made to torture you again.

Every notification is already a pain, driving splintered glass into the pads of your fingers. Just now you're reading a text message from your father asking you to pick up more cheap instant noodles from the convenience store on your walk home to round out whatever scraps he's picked up from the local restaurant your mother bussed tables and cleaned dishes at when she needed extra money.

"Why is Saint Kim watching you?" your friend asks across the table. She's been looking up at the room this entire time, unable to give you even a moment of her attention or assistance to finish the English homework you'd been working on. You'd been rushing all day to finish it before afternoon class, after a late morning of delivery driving for your family's drycleaning business.

"Are you sure it's not the Devil?" you ask, parsing through the lines of a book you'd bought secondhand, trying to match verse for verse.

"No," she says, shaking her head when you finally look up. "Don't react. He's coming this way."

"Shit," you say under your breath, eyes flicking to your untouched lunch. "I need you to leave now. Take these trays and dump them and I'll meet you outside of 4th. If I make it."

You don't look up from your book as you mutter, but you follow her path and her hesitancy as she internally debates whether to heed your warning or watch from a safe distance.

Your handwriting becomes a scrawl of nonsense you have to cross out in sharp lines. You begin the verse again, holding your breath as you will your entire body and mind back to a manufactured calm. 

If you can't be invisible, you can at least play your role. You're copacetic by the time you see the tips of polished black wingtips beside you, before you hear the Saint clear his throat.

“Y/N.”

He drops a familiar, school-mandated clear cosmetics bag next to your ratty backpack. The already embarrassing stash of tampons and old chapstick has a new bounty including a "used" pregnancy test stick with a second line drawn in with pink gel pen jumbled into its contents.

"You left this . . ." he says, not finishing the sentence to indicate where he'd found it. You immediately hear a titter. Your flock of spectators is growing by the second and the useful idiot at its center seems wholly unconcerned.

"Thanks," you say, not bothering to look up or to even hide the bag. You keep writing, blindly, the English words just rounded shapes flowing from your shaking hand. 

Their kind fed off attention, your only defense is to starve them of it.

The Saint clears his throat, again. Apparently he’s not just unconcerned, he’s also unwilling to leave.

"Aren't you grateful Doie found it before someone else did?" You don’t have to look up to know it's Miranda who’s asked, glimpsing her manicure as she picks up your bag, green gems shining on perfectly-tipped nails. 

"Oh this must not be hers. I didn't think she could afford this."

You think she might be diving into the stash for one of the Lilies' pointed additions but no–you watch in horror as she plucks out the bottle of perfume you'd been carrying with you since your parents had gifted you a single, tiny box last Christmas. 

"Chanel?" she says, laughing. "No wonder you smell like my grandma."

"Probably a knock-off," another of the Lilies says. Ginger, by the sound of her grating voice. Her handwriting on the board in homeroom listing out your abortions is as familiar as the pink gel pen script on the extra large foil condom with xoxo slut written on it staring at you through the plastic.

"Definitely a knock-off. You have a nose, don't you, Doie?"

You look up, finally, at Saint Kim. He's alone for once–the other one, the Devil Kim that shadows him is still up on the second level, leaning on the railing over his shoulder. You watch the Saint’s small mouth turn into a moue of distaste, nose wrinkling at the proffered bottle.

"Authentic," he says, capping it before offering it back to you. Your field of vision is obstructed by that veined, pale hand–fingernails as perfectly groomed as the rich girls who surround him.

You reach up to take your most prized possession back only to find he doesn't let go, holding tight when you try to pluck it from his fingers.

"You should know . . . " he says, sniffing slightly.

You look up at him with alarm blazing in your eyes. Every word Kim Doyoung says to you writes your next damnation. You should ignore him, run, anything–but you can't look away once you've met his assessing gaze, his tall frame limned in the fluorescent cafeteria lights like he's carrying his own personal halo. 

Even seeing him at a distance every day can't depreciate how ethereally handsome he is. You know better than to swoon at that elegant face, night-black hair pushed away from his forehead. Beneath his family’s charities and his PR-scripted concern you know he’s just another ungodly creation birthed of nepotism and curated genes.

He leans in, carefully, musical voice a whisper. 

"You should know it doesn't suit you."

The laughter that follows is deafening.

No, you think. He's just as soulless as the rest of them.

“What do you mean actually sleep?" you ask, coyly, unbuttoning your romper. "Like after we . . . ?"

"I've managed 6 hours of sleep in 36 hours, y/n–” Doyoung seems to hesitate, dark eyebrows raising, hand pushing his hair back from his pale forehead. He snaps his laptop closed, at last, shoving it to the farthest edge of the bedside table.

No–you think–not hesitation. 

Frustration.

You've seen this man before. 

All work and no play made Saint Kim into a Prince of Hell. He'd spent the first 8 hours of your date day half-present–the other in the 4 hours of sleep he's gotten since some crisis at his family’s headquarters in London that usurped your vacation. 

A whole 2 days in which he hasn't held you at all. His rules, his chance, but you can't help but wonder what has him so clenched that he's barely even touched you since your date began at 6 am Bangkok time.

You'd taken two extra strength melatonin and slept like the dead, anticipating his early-riser schedule. Only you and God had to know you'd fallen asleep next to your day tour fit ready to be fucked in it. 

You’d made yourself so pretty only to find him in the kitchen hunched over his phone, laptop softly pinging with notifications. Doyoung had still been dressed in the clothes you'd seen him in the night before, ending his conference call to laser in on you hovering in the kitchen.

"Are you upset?" Doyoung asked.

"No," you'd lied, pushing the piece of paper he'd left the staff on the counter, his English handwriting crisp and formal. "What’s this?" 

"We have a few dietary restrictions today," he’d said. 

"Are you saying I am what I eat?" You’d asked, taking a bite of a plump strawberry. "Is this some kind of prep?"

"It's for the date," he'd said, resigned. "Just be patient with me."

Then he'd smiled, disarming you with a casualness you hadn’t seen on him in a long time, rubbing his eyes blearily under his thick glasses. 

"Can we go back to sleep?"

And so you'd settled into his grasp on your made bed, scrolling Insta and waiting for the inevitable alarm–which turned out just to be Jungwoo delivering two iced Americanos in some gambit of checking your progress.

"Missed the floating market opening?" Jungwoo asked, eyebrows raised at the sight of Doyoung face first in a pillow.

You'd silently mouthed your thanks, leaving the drinks to sweat on the bedside table as you changed into your second outfit of the day, occasionally drifting in to check on your sleeping beauty.

It was a rare delight to have him so vulnerable beside you, blanket rucked up beneath his chin and his white teeth visible past the sweet curves of his mouth. Without consciousness your partner for the day is just Kim Doyoung, the gentler side of the same creature who you knew would often choose a couch to watch serial television with you over a day trip if you wanted it. 

But this was different.

Now instead of using his precious time to fulfill what you'd felt promised in his casual brushes against your back when you'd finally traveled out, or the way he'd stroked your leg at brunch under the table (every bite chosen by him, of course), you're being railroaded into lying still while he sleeps. 

Again.

You continue undressing, letting him drink in the sight of the lingerie set he’d left in your room. You knew it was custom made by the way it lifted each curve he’d already had access to, tailored for you as if every millimeter of your body was to account for.

Doyoung's cheeks are hollowed, lip chewed. He pulls his glasses down and regards you even more as you continue to undress yourself.

"You do know what the word 'nap' means, don't you?"

"I'm not the one who hasn't slept," you say. "At least let me get comfortable."

His stare pierces into you as you turn around, stripping for utility rather than give him a show he clearly hasn’t earned. You check yourself in the floor-length mirror beside the bathroom, viewing yourself through his eyes as you pluck the lace over your curves to sit just right. 

“Do you like it?” you ask.

You may as well be speaking to the floor when you turn around, finding him buried in the pillows only by the dark fall of his hair.

“You can’t be that tired,” you say. 

You're used to taking a late afternoon siesta in peak summer but you're far too excited to even consider sleep right now. For one, it's sweltering–windows open to allow the noises of hawkers and traffic not far off to drift in.

Second, you've never been more turned on in your life. 

You can still feel the tingling in your toes from when he’d slipped his hand up under the hem of your shorts, teasing at the velvety smooth skin on your inner thigh as you tried not to choke on your mimosa.

You make your way to the bed languidly, crawling up the thick white duvet with a teasing smile.

"Just stay on your side of the bed, please," Doyoung says.

"Oh," you say, collapsing on top of the covers beside him. "Well you're no fun." 

"And you're impatient and uncouth," he retorts in a way that makes you wonder if he really means it. 

"Will you at least hold onto me?"

"Too hot." He rolls on his back, flapping his half-buttoned shirt in the breeze from the fans. You sigh dramatically, collapsing into the pillows in the middle of the bed. 

"You should get naked, then.” You say. “Don't be modest on my account."

He opens one eye to glare at you, finding you relaxed and inviting beside him. His throat bobs, gaze flicking to the ceiling.

"That year of celibacy really took a toll on you, didn't it? Two hours. Indulge me."

"Please, sir," you whisper. "I've been such a good girl."

It had been a stipulation of the F4’s latest deal–24 hours for you to recover from your first night before the gauntlet began. Doyoung had been more than strict about the terms, leaving you your own set of instructions including–not surprisingly–not touching yourself.

Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t think about masturbation constantly, at all hours of the day. He may as well have told you to try not to think about a white bear for how powerful the intrusive thought had taken over since then.

"You'll get your reward. Later," he says. He's an impassable wall, stretched out beside you, so you content yourself with staring at his profile. Even under these oppressive circumstances you appreciate the light dusting of freckles on his cheek brought out by the sun, the dark lashes dusting his cheeks over the slight bluish marks of sleep deprivation.

"Yes, sir."

It only takes a few minutes for him to snap at you again.

"Stop that," 

"Stop what?" 

"Getting so handsy."

You hadn’t even realized your hand had drifted over the plane of his belly under his white shirt, too absorbed with watching the muscles in his cheek spasm as you inched nearer. 

"Can I help it when you're right there?" you ask. "I thought this was your–"

Doyoung rolls you before you can slither any closer, pressing your back into the sheets with his hands on your wrists, knees digging into your thighs. 

If the intention was to get you to stop being uncomfortably turned on it has the opposite effect: you let out a moan of pleasure, legs twisting together for friction. He slams them shut between his own, groin pressed into yours.

He's as hard as you hoped, and you lift up into him to let him know you know it.

"If you don't behave I'll have to cancel this," he warns directly in your ear, sounding as choked as you feel. "I thought you were already trained." 

"Trained to fight back," you correct, pressing against him with your own strength.

"That's not trained," he says, lifting up. "I'll blame your lack of experience and experienced partners. Nothing we can't work on. Until then you'll follow my rules or I pull you from the game. Understood?" 

You let a few beats pass, accepting there's no way out and you don't have anything to throw back at him.

"Yes, sir," you pout.

"Now that's a good girl," he says.

Just as quickly as you were taken down you're let go, inhaling deeply now that you're not being pressed into the soft bed. 

"You really don't want to play with me before you sleep?" you ask, brushing your lips against his chin as he crouches over you. You’d be a liar if you didn’t say you enjoyed the way his nostrils flare a bit, working his pink bottom lip between his teeth. Whatever arbitrary rules he’d set for your time together you can tell he’s at least regretting it right now, stiff length brushing against your bare leg as you lift your knee to test it. 

“Are you trying to make me punish you?” he asks, voice husky. 

"I thought you liked it when I was a brat," you say, cocking your head. 

Doyoung sighs, eyes half-lidded. "I do. But not when you're using it to avoid intimacy."

Your throat clenches, a hard knot forming in it you can't seem to swallow as your face gets even hotter.

“What are you talking about?” you ask. 

“I think you know what I mean,” he continues. “It’s not like we both don’t have a habit of using sex as a distraction from anything emotionally challenging.”

You gape up at him in disbelief. 

Of course you’d never been able to hide that aspect of your last relationship with him when he’d often been right outside the door. All of the F4 knew how many times your arguments with he-who-should-not-be-named-especially-not-while-in-bed-with-his-best-friend had ended in you shutting him up by any means necessary. Not that you didn’t enjoy it at the time–but rather you understood it wasn’t the most healthy template for a relationship. 

"I thought this wasn't going to be about feelings," you blurt out.

“Proving my point.”

Doyoung tsks, tapping your cheek with his fingers–nowhere near a slap but just as effective, soothing the spot with his thumb. Soon he’s brushing your tears away when they inevitably spring up and you have to turn to hide their seep into the mass of pillows.

"If I wanted therapy I wouldn't be here, Kim Doyoung," you say, trying to bury your face in the piles of soft down. 

“Shh, silly girl,” He gently pulls you out from hiding, soothing you with a warm kiss against your forehead when you stop struggling and let him hold you, releasing that surge of emotion and writing it off to hormones and the sting of rejection.

“You know I’m speaking to myself here, too,” he states softly. “Bear with me, I’m learning.” 

"Do you even really like me?" you ask, face pressed into his chest. 

It’s horrible to admit this specific insecurity but you can’t help it. Being abandoned multiple times in your life when you’d finally, finally let your walls down would damage anyone’s trust. You’d hoped this day with him would be easy and carefree and light, not dimmed by the shadows of your anti-romantic histories. 

"I adore you, actually." He settles partially on top of you, leg wrapped over yours as he props himself up on his elbow. "Which is why I want to start this right. You wanted the F4 boyfriend experience. This is mine."

"Last I checked you’ve never seriously dated anyone," you groan, sniffling. 

"Last I checked, neither have you." 

Well, that connects. You swallow your fears, relaxing into the cage of his embrace, retreating a little from the vulnerability of being exposed.

"What kind of girlfriend experience were you expecting, then?"

A lazy smile gusts across his features. You can't help but find it a bit sinister after being handled so indelicately. 

“I don’t always know what’s going on in that empty little head of yours." He accompanies his statement with a brush of his thumb across your flushed cheek, tracing your semi-parted lips in a way that sends sparks down to your core. 

"I’d like to stop guessing and actually get you to let me treat you the way you want to be treated. Have you ever asked yourself what you want?"

You panic a little, considering his words. Living with disappointment had made this question a hard one to even consider. 

"I just want a good time. Isn't that what you want, too?"

Doyoung seems to ignore your ask, drifting into a relaxed state against the pillows. His hand traces the hairline at your temple. "You know I worry about you. All the time, actually.” 

His voice is lower, a little wistful, and it’s doing just as much as the slight brushes of his fingertips to make you throb all over again. A lack of sleep must have made him delusional, you think. This is not the Kim Doyoung you know.

“You’re always thinking of how to take care of the people around you, I think you’ve forgotten how to relax and let other people take care of you.”

"Is that why you're always involving yourself in my business?" you ask, matching his tone in how breathless you are. You expect a quip, not the sincerity written on his face when he swoops in to press a gentle kiss against your lips, too fleeting to be anything but sweet and sincere. 

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do all this time? It certainly wasn’t just to get into your pants. I want you. All of you.” 

You're taken aback by his honesty. You'd always suspected his constant meddling in your affairs came from a place of interest but you'd never wanted to give him too much of a response–maybe a little afraid his fickle nature and fear of commitment would mean he’d give up on your friendship, too. 

Another thing you knew about Saint Kim: he had a tendency to run like a frightened rabbit at the first sign of emotional neediness in his partners. You'd never given him reason to believe you expected anything from him, but you'd also stopped fighting him on giving you what he desired to give.

It wasn’t just presents or expensive experiences, of course. He’d found out quickly those weren’t welcome without some cajoling. No–his art was in knowing what you needed even before you realized it, nudging it across your path. 

You’d figured out his deviousness after the umpteenth time someone was charitable at your little florist shop part time job, offering to fix your scooter in exchange for a nice arrangement for a proposal. As soon as you’d seen the fully restored bike outside and the customer didn’t return your texts you’d called Doyoung, completely unsurprised to find he was at the coffee shop next door, waiting to pick up his flowers.

“Stop being so nice to me,” you’d said. “It makes me uncomfortable.”

“What makes you think I’m giving you charity,” he’d responded, dropping a department store bag and your own custom coffee order on the counter. “You’ll wear this when I come to pick you up tonight at closing, including the jewelry and perfume. I need you to play your part again. The flowers are a consolation for the heart we’re breaking.”

He’d enlisted you as his defacto “new girlfriend” for the more difficult separations, and though you’d gotten your share of a glass of expensive wine thrown in your face more often than he ever experienced it (his type always went after the easier target) it wasn’t like he didn’t have a replacement dress ready and a nice dinner waiting after you’d cleaned off the Chateau Lafitte Rothschild. 

You have to face the fact that no matter how many times he’d treated you like his girlfriend, you’d never actually expected him to want you to be one. 

“I’ve waited a very long time for this, Y/N. Which is why I want our first time together–alone," he adds quickly. "–To be special."

It's difficult to believe him but you're spellbound all the same, watching pink dust his cheeks and his ears turn a shade darker as he most likely realizes how ridiculous it is considering him fucking you senseless the other night with the help of two other men. 

But you can empathize with his anxiety. Yesterday's Thai massage he'd arranged had helped you work out the flight or fight of anticipating being alone with him. It’s back now, but different. The way he's looking at you makes you feel infinitely naked, infinitely unlocked.

"What do you mean special?" you ask, wary, hoping to see some glimmer of uncertainty or falsehood in his gaze. You want to believe it's a lie or just some artful prank, trying to ignore your heart flip-flopping in your chest. 

It’s a mistake to let him see you squirm considering it’s Doyoung’s drug of choice–his lips twist into another menacing grin as he plays with the charm on your necklace. Another of his little gifts.

"Do you think you can handle it?" Doyoung asks, dripping self-satisfaction. “Or are you going to chicken out on me?”

You turn over so he can't see your expression, realizing he’s throwing your own words from the night before right back at you.

"I haven’t decided if I want to date you, yet,” you say. 

"Maybe not," he says. "But you'll have to pardon me for wanting to show you this good time you supposedly want while also treating you decently. Unless we're no longer friends?"

"We are," you say, biting your lip, "even if you enjoy torturing me."

"Torture?" He laughs, breathy. 

"Metaphorically speaking."

"You have no idea, do you?" You can feel the edge of his glasses as he bites the place where your clavicle connects to your shoulder, his hand snaking around your bare middle.

"You could show me," you invite, mid-gasp, as your body responds to his long-awaited touch. His fingers are almost cool in contrast to the heat in the room, tracing circles in your skin that have you squirming. 

"Is that a challenge?" he asks.

Why not?

"We don't have to have sex," you offer. "Maybe you could just–"

"Shh," he says, fingers skimming lower. "My terms. Are you going to stay quiet for me?"

You nod into the comforter, breath hitching as he touches you through the thin layer of your underwear, veined hand flexing as he molds the damp fabric to your body. It's such a delicate pressure but he's already memorized your shape, index finger sinking into your folds, gently rubbing a ring around your throbbing clit.

You're sticky and swelling with each pass, entranced by how good he is at teasing you, cherishing the way he sucks in his breath when he pushes into the indent of your hole.

“Doie,” you whine, leaning back into him, trying to get him to kiss you as he laughs into your hair. 

“Quiet,” he reminds you, kissing your cheek and teasing the seat of your underwear where they're soaked the most. "You want to take these off?" 

You shake your head, sensing it would be too easy of you to give in.

"That wasn't a question," he says, tugging down the band, leaving them trapped tight around your thighs. "I don't want you to wear them until I tell you that you can." 

You feel your core clench at the way his voice cracks, his fingers sliding back up to slowly and delicately draw a thread of moisture from your bared slit. You whine a little when he stops touching you, bringing his fingertip to your lips.

"Taste it." 

You let your mouth fall open, let him run it over your tongue, beginning from the middle and swirling over it. 

"Describe it," he murmurs. "If I like your answer, maybe I'll indulge you more." 

"Salt," you say, immediately. 

He tugs your hair, making you meet his eyes. 

"Have I taught you anything? I want specific notes. Flavors." 

You're transported back to the time he'd taken you to your first (and last) wine tasting. Spitting into a bucket and being lectured about body and tannins and soil conditions was the last thing you'd wanted to do after an hours-long trip to a vineyard but you'd indulged him, allowed one glass of what he considered the only drinkable wine on the premises. 

An unrefined palette, he'd called you. 

"Fruity and floral," you make up. "A nice lingering finish. Want a taste?" 

He looks down at you behind his glasses, equal parts amused and unimpressed. "Did you use the soap I asked you to?" 

Your brain glitches at that. Had you? You'd been in such a rush to go out–

You gasp when he palms your breast, squeezing the meat of it through the breathable fabric of your matching bra.

"I'll take that as a no," he says. "I guess you're not ready." 

He rolls off of you, leaving you in a lurch as you realize your legs are locked together by your underwear. You move to remove them, taking off your bra as well to avoid the awkwardness of being partially dressed.

By the time you're done you realize he's on his back, the hand that had been stroking you buried in his loose khakis. 

"What are you doing?" you ask, more than a little pissed off at the sight of him masturbating as if you aren't ready and willing to assist beside him. 

"Getting ready for our date. You can watch. No touching." He cracks an eye to look at you before closing it again. "Either of us."

"Are you edging me, Kim Doyoung?" Your menacing tone is entirely natural.

He hums a bit, working himself at a more punishing pace, knuckles peeking out from under his boxer briefs with each full pass over his length.

"Can't even look at me? Afraid you'll lose control?" You sidle down on the bed, beside his tensed thigh. You can smell a bit of the ozone on him from a morning in the sun, your knees knocking into his calves when you move over him.

"I don't trust you," he says, voice deeper than you've ever heard it.

"Is it touching if you finish on my face?" you ask when he finally blinks up at your presence, hovering over him with your breasts dangerously close to his clothed thighs.

"Absolutely not."

"Not touching–"

"Just. Watch," he orders.

He pulls himself free from his pants, surprising you with how dark and weeping his tip is as his thumb encircles it. Pools of white precum spatter on his lean, pale belly, your head dipping dangerously close–

"I said watch." He grabs at your hair, denied when you bend up again, showing him your dirty tongue.

He groans, fingers clenching air. "You were put on this earth to test me, weren't you?"

Still, he doesn't break his attention on the way you roll the drops you'd licked from his clean skin in your mouth, swallowing once you've fully enjoyed the taste.

"A little sweet you say," teasing him. "Drinking pineapple juice?"

"Brat," Doyoung says, but he's almost gone–eyes dark with desire, gently gripping your skull as you continue to ease in.

You're a master at following his lead, blowing a breath over the spot you'd licked, and then his length until his movements slow, cherishing the way you hold your mouth over his cock.

"If you can't give me what I want, then at least give me a taste," you say, sticking out your tongue in offering. You love the way he responds to the sight, needy and losing it when you hold eye contact, drilling into him.

"No," he echoes, weakly. He's too smart to push into your open mouth, instead driving his hips up to fuck his fist as you watch his glasses slide down his nose, eyes clenching shut. 

"You're no fun," you say. "Just a little swallow can't hurt?"

"No. Don't want to ruin it," he says cryptically, making a choked noise as you brush his fingers with your nose and he has to pull you away.

"I promise you it . . . It will be worth it," he manages. His jaw clenches as his movements relax, finally in control of you both.

"It better be," you say. 

You lower your lashes as your eyes flick between his cock and his face, stretching out your tongue to the point that drool begins to drip down your chin, splashing on his whitened knuckles and the tight stretch of his balls peeking out from his underwear. He bites his lip, breath holding as he starts to spiral.

The first thick rope of white rockets up his half-bared chest. Soon he's spurting even more, cum reaching his rucked up shirt, a little getting on his glasses. 

He's so out of it he doesn't fight as you wrest out of his limp hold. You clean up the sticky mess on his skin with your tongue, his abdominal muscles twitching under the light flicks and drags. 

"Want to give me some notes?" you ask, straddling him without resting any weight down, taking off his glasses. This time when you move to kiss him he rises weakly to meet you, lips parting to accept what you haven't swallowed. 

In truth, he tastes wonderful. Coffee, a little menthol from toothpaste and a hint of the watermelon you'd shared earlier mix beneath the coat of his spend.

He licks into your mouth until you moan, your body throbbing with unfulfilled pleasure. You follow him as he sinks back into the pillows, enjoying having him at your disposal, your core leaving wet trails on his thigh when you brush against the fabric.

"I'm going to wait until you're asleep and use you if you don't help me get off," you threaten, pressing soft kisses to his slack face. It’s no use. Doyoung has passed out again, lower teeth visible as he snores softly, forehead sheened with drying sweat.

Fuck it, you think. 

You ooze off of him to take your second cold shower of the day, and maybe get acquainted with one of the fancy showerheads in his massive walk-in while you use his special soap. 

It's not–technically–touching yourself.

Your mystery destination isn't an unknown–it's in every tourist booklet and blog you'd skimmed before your trip, thinking you'd be on your own to find a good spot to traverse to. But it still takes your breath away the moment the car door opens in the sprawl of motorbikes and delivery trucks and Doyoung takes your hand to pull you into Paradise.

Pak Khlong Talat is a bustle of energy well after dark, the time you know its treasures are delivered fresh and unbloomed, wrapped in newspaper and steeped in crushed ice. For as far as you can see the market sprawls along Chak Phet road, but even more overwhelming than the sights and sounds is the scent. 

Jasmine, roses, lavender. Thousands upon thousands of blooms strung up and tended to by night owl vendors, delicate arrangements hand-sewed by artisans streetside into garlands so well-crafted Doyoung has to tug you to keep you moving, onwards to some other unspoken destination. 

"I was worried you might hate flowers after working with them for so long. I take it you like it?" he asks, indulging you when you ask if you can take his picture at a particularly lovely hang of garlands, the purple-blue light perfect for the film you'd loaded into your father's old camera. Photography had never been your craft, but after your dad had passed you'd made an effort to capture more of your memories, cherishing what you'd taken for granted before.

“It’s perfect,” you say, admiring him through the viewfinder. "But can you look like you're having fun?" 

Your model is stiff, mouth a moue as he checks the street for other observers or a possible collision with a laden handcart. 

"Fun?" Doyoung asks, and you snap his picture on the offbeat, enjoying his look of surprise. 

“Like you've taken your date to one of the most romantic places on earth, after buttering her up with a night cruise of Chao Praya and finally letting her eat real food." 

He sniffs at a fall of marigolds, a smug look on his face that you commit to film, right before he sneezes. 

"For the record, we're eating after this. Som tam hardly counts as a meal, I just didn’t want that drink going to your head." 

You're shepherded through the vast warehouse of the main market, to an adjacent street, and into a non-descript building painted in a funereal white.

"Are we even allowed to be here?" you ask, once the key code is entered and you enter the strange business. 

"I called in a favor," he says, taking your hand, leading you up a metal staircase past a simple storefront of dried blooms and shelves laden with boxes and bottles alike.

An apothecary? An alchemist's shop? The purpose of the space eludes you.

"An atelier," Doyoung explains. "One of the most sought out in the world."

There's the distant hum of the city outside and a central air you're unused to in this climate but the upstairs is quiet–by all accounts either an office or a laboratory, or a mixture of both. The central working area is a chaotic but organized space filled with tables of glassware and dried floral arrangements contrasting potted orchids, small beakers of coffee beans littered amidst rows of labeled brown bottles.

"So this is how they make perfume," you say, inspecting a stoppered bottle labeled "Gerianol 10%".

"Not just any perfume. The best. Here." Doyoung leads you to a much less cluttered workstation, the desk arranged with the lights still on, a note detailing some instruction you can barely read before he slips it into the pocket of his slim-tailored pants. Beneath it is a notebook, scrawled with a perfect cursive English you recognize from the cards he’d included in boxes or bags whenever he’d bothered to claim their contents. 

"Sit," he instructs. You think he means the comfortable chair but before you can sit down he presses you to the desk, caging you in. 

"Sit," he repeats, hands on your hips through your slinky skirt, lifting you to the bench. You scoot back, carefully, the white blooms of some exotic flower brushing against your cheek until he can move the vase a careful distance. 

"Do you understand what we’re doing here?"

You can't possibly know what he means, eye level with the graceful column of his neck and his exposed collarbone beneath his translucent button-down, drowning in the melange of scents but most especially his clean, neutral cologne. 

"No," you say, honestly, heart beating fast. 

He picks up a corked flask from some kind of metal scale, dipping a thin thread of paper into it to waft it a fair distance from your nose.

"Before we came here--before you even agreed to this trip–I sent instructions to my friend for a specialty blend of their creation. It took quite a bit of back-and-forth–I even visited here last month to take a private class and make sure we prepared the base and middle to your standards."

"For me?" 

You feel dizzy, reaching out to take the sample and smell it again, his hand capturing your own before you can bring it too close to your nose. He wafts it for you, expectant as you absorb the details.

Indeed, it smells divine–exactly the kind of warm, bright notes that make your heart feel at ease. There’s something floral and citrus worked in, not too heavy, the finish leaving you with an impression of a lazy summer afternoon. 

“It’s beautiful,” you say. “Did you make this to match what you knew I liked?”

"Yes.” Doyoung exhales, looking almost sheepish. "I had some references. That cheap shampoo you never stop buying, the Lush exfoliator with the orange blossom, even–" he shudders a bit– "that awful Chanel you doused yourself in, in high-school."

"Coco Mademoiselle," you say. "It's been years since I–"

"It didn't suit you," he says, standing up to sample another bottle from the neat row. 

Something dawns on you, a distant memory locking into place.

"It was you," you gasp in realization. "You're the one who got rid of it. I should have known when you tried to give me that bottle of Jo Malone–"

“It had already turned. You need to store your scents away from direct light.”

“It was a keepsake!” There were very few possessions from your youth that you’d been able to hold onto–not only because your parents had been barely able to afford your school uniforms, much less gifts. What little you’d had was lost when your house was destroyed by the men your father owed money to, this small thing neglected in the destruction.

“It didn't suit you because it wasn't made for you," he continues. "You wore it because you thought it would make you fit in, when you should have made what you wore wear you–"

"Please, stop."

You have to bite your lip to the point of pain, remembering how excited you'd been to unwrap that tiny bit of luxury your parents had saved up to buy you, your mother sure the brand name would save you from another day of humiliation. You didn’t have the heart to tell them that the cutout ad from the magazine on your wall was for the model, not the actual perfume, but you felt loved by the gesture all the same.

Hundreds of thousands of won an ounce for it to only turn on your skin, well before afternoons spent on the basketball court under the thankless sun. That memento had aged from pink to a sickly rose unused on your cosmetic shelf, a totem from a time when you imagined yourself belonging. Before it had disappeared, like so many other things.

You can't remember the last time you'd worn anything, had never even gone near that section of a department store after the humiliation of being made fun of for smelling cheap.

“My dad skipped lunches and my mom worked double shifts to get that for Christmas my first year in Kocher,” you say. “Mira was the brand ambassador for that campaign, you know.”

Mira had been your idol even before you won the scholarship she’d established to attend Kocher. Perfect, beautiful, but most of all the first girl in their sphere to show you genuine kindness.

"It must be so easy for you," you say, wiping your face. You rarely cried these days but that memory was particularly painful, a reminder of how often you’d assumed Doyoung found you just as offensive. Not just your scent, you thought, but you.

Something to be tolerated. Below his regard. 

"Whatever you want, you can have. Whatever you don't like, you can get rid of. I'm sorry, I don't live in your world. I can’t just throw something away when it’s not useful."

"No," he says, quietly, abandoning his explanation. "That was thoughtless of me. I can replace it–"

“Can you?” You glare up at him. “Is this what you really want? To dress me up like your perfect doll and feed me from your hand so I’m more able to suit you?

Doyoung looks like he's going to be ill, every design in his head unraveling before your eyes. You’d feel sorry for him if you didn't know this was a lesson worth imparting.

"Don't ever offer to replace what you don’t know the true value of," you say, voice trembling.

There's a weighted silence as he considers his next words. You still haven't slipped away from him, choosing to hold your ground. How many times had you been forced to be the antagonist in some fruitless class warfare, unresolved? But then you also had a habit of finding battles in peacetime. 

You pluck the newest scent strip from his frozen hand and waft it between you, at the designated distance.

“Thank god this smells nothing like it,” you murmur. You offer him a wry smile, anger fading. “I couldn’t stand it.”

You feel Doyoung’s relief as he collapses against you, forehead against your hair as his arms wrap tight around your middle. You relax after a bit, cheek pressed to his collarbone as you breathe in his unique scent–a little like fresh laundry left out in the sun.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “All these promises and plans and stupid details and at the end of the day I really . . . Don't know what I'm doing."

"I really don’t know what you’re doing, either," you say. "But I like that you try.”

"You do?" The hope in his voice makes your iciness melt a bit. You let your hands twine around his neck, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease with the gesture.

“I know it’s not easy for me to admit but I do appreciate everything you do for me, Doie,” you say. 

He doesn’t respond in words but you savor the shift in his demeanor, like a weight has been lifted from him. You think even he didn’t know it was there. You ignore the glassiness in his eyes when he pulls back, choosing to look at his notes instead.

“Are these all the ingredients?” you ask, working out a few of the more familiar words. “What’s op–?”

“First things first,” he says, rolling up his sleeves.  "Did you touch yourself?" 

"No," you say, surprised by the shift. "I followed your instructions. No products with scents. No underwear."

You spread your thighs to make your point. His hands hike your skirt up, over the breadth of skin to your hips and then to the curl of your belly, his breath hitching as he finds you already glossy.

It had been a bit of a gambit considering your riverside excursion but he'd allowed you a lemongrass-based repellent–the scent of which is still clinging to your bare skin as he kneels down to press a kiss to where his fingers had traced earlier.

You jerk a bit, conscientious of the workspace as he spreads you, just that light touch making your nipples harden beneath your thin shirt and bra.  

“Are we allowed to–”

“Shh. Relax and try not to spill anything,” he interrupts, breath cooling your wetness. “I just need some inspiration.”

“What?” 

"You’re so good already," he says into your sex, spreading you so he can lightly tongue at your skin. “Perfect little flower just for me.”

After waiting so long, you're torn between begging and shoving his teasing licks away, hand threading through his raven hair as the notebook slips from your hand.

"Kim Doyoung–” you gasp as he spears his tongue through your upper folds, nose nudging the sensitive bud. “–if this is another round of teasing I will murd–”  

You yelp as he hunches down to wrap your legs around his shoulders, hands re-occupied by exposing you as you try to stay upright. 

“Don’t worry. You can come like this. I want to know if you taste different after.”

You don't know what he means until his mouth closes over your clit, sucking just right. You jolt, pinched on the meat of your thigh until you can relax again, making little mewls as he rolls his thumbs alongside the point of contact.

“I want you inside of me,” you beg, feeling that fluttering sensation that heralds a build-up. “I wanted to come with you inside me.” 

“Soon. Just need to be good while I sample you.” 

“Sample?” Your hand sinks into his hair in panic, tugging, but Doyoung is too lost alternating between suckling at your sex and palpating you with a circling thumb, his beautiful hands gripping your thighs to keep you spread.

“Drip for me, first.” 

“I don't think I can–”

“You giving up already?” Doyoung scoffs, smirking up at you with reddened lips, tongue-tip darting against your clit. Every brush of soft muscle makes you spasm a bit, belly tightening unfulfilled.

You shake your head, panting. “I just . . . Doie I want you inside me.” 

“You can relax and take it,” he says, tongue wrapping around your labia, sucking slightly. Your head is buzzing, every stray thought removed by his exploration of you.

“Relax. If you don't I'll just have to try until you're begging for me to stop.” 

“No, please, Doie. I'll be good,” you plead. “Just . . . need something inside. Hurts so bad being empty.”

“Hand me a pipette.”

“What?”

“The one that looks like an eyedropper,” he says, hand open to accept like he’s performing surgery. You fight to find the right glassware with his mouth still on you, efforts more focused and intense as your legs tense with each hit. You find the rubber-stoppered glass cylinder, stomach dropping. 

“Is this safe?” You ask, gripping his mussed hair tighter when he pulls away for a moment.

“If you hold still, yes,” he taunts. You seize when you first feel the tip slip inside you. The glass is cool but warms to your body heat quickly, too slim to feel anything.

“Good girl,” he says. “You’re even pushing this out, you must be so tight.”

“I am. Too tight,” you groan. “Please don’t tease me anymore.”

He ignores you, focusing on his work, pulling the instrument free when he’s satisfied.

“Not bad,” he says, dropping it on the desk beside you before he’s back on his knees with his nose buried in your cunt. “Bet you can do better than that.”

“No, please, I need you–”

“Then drip for me,” he laughs into your leg, tracing the wetness down the crease in your thigh. You tense your hold on the desk’s edge when you feel his tongue prod at your entrance, muscle breaching your hole to lick into you. He makes a satisfied noise in the back of his throat that has you plummeting just as he resumes stroking your clit through the slippery coat of your arousal. 

Finally, you think, feeling the advent of tears for how wound tight you are, how desperate you are to feel him give you just one more point of contact with the ache inside.

“Oh god, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you repeat, the noises obscene as he drinks you in, other hand on your hip to hold you against his face. It’s not even the stimulation that makes you begin to come but the audible groan he releases as he feels you quake against his mouth, heels snagging on his shirt when the first wave breaks and those little tics inside you turn into powerful contractions around his tongue-tip taking everything you can give him. 

He keeps licking you even when you’re begging for him to stop, nose tracing down to catch a stray drop from the back of your knee with a playful dart of his tongue. 

“Was it worth it?” you ask, folding over him as he wipes his mouth clean in your drenched skirt. You know it’s just the start but you already feel wrung out and feather-light, wicking away the sweat that’s beaded on your own face despite the cool, dry air of the room. 

“Hmm?” he hums a bit, disentangling to stand up and hold your face in his hands. His pupils are blown, sweat beading on his temples, but he looks as satisfied as you hoped he would be, your arousal drying on his slender features.

“All the prep,” you say. “Isn’t that why–do I taste as good as you expected after all that?”

Doyoung looks down on you, amused. Already you feel like you’re heating up again, with how his dark eyes flit to your mouth and back up again. 

“You think I prefer you prepped?” he asks, angling his head down besides yours to whisper in your ear. “The next time I eat that perfect little pussy of yours I want it to be filthy.” 

He traces the lobe with his teeth for good measure, pulling another moan out of you. “I’ll even make sure to wait until the other two have a go at you, first.”

You feel your heartbeat stutter as he presses his lips to your pulse point, tongue darting past his lips to dab at the sweat there.

“No, precious, I wanted to make sure the perfume we make tonight matches all of you.” Doyoung’s nose brushes your ear as he breathes in your scent. “Every time I wear it I’m going to remember the way you sounded when you first came for me and me only.”

The promise of it has you feeling a different kind of heat, dizzying for how much you want it to last past this night. 

“Fuck,” you whisper explosively, eyes clenched shut to stay fixed upright, fisting the thin material of his collar as he pulls you from the countertop and against the hard planes of his body. “I need you. Now. Please.”

“I like hearing you say that,” he chuckles a bit. “But I’m going to make you earn it. You can wait a little longer. You made me wait years, after all.”

You let him guide you into his lap, in the chair, pushed into the desk as he opens the notebook to another page. And another, until you take over and explore it for yourself. In the dim golden light from the street outside you catch glimpses of colors and drawings, notes written of impressions and memories you’d all but forgotten in your haze of grief these past few years. 

There’s even photographs taped to some of the pages–ones you know well by the fact that they’d been taken on your camera. Doyoung didn’t have Jaehyun’s artistic training but he did have an eye for capturing candid moments.

November, your first year of college. You’re standing in the first snow of the season, catching flakes on your tongue. You can still feel the burn of them, hear the murmur of the city dulled in a fresh blanket of white and taste the roasted yam you’d eaten, tossing it in your mittened hands until it was cool enough to peel. 

Doyoung’s shoulder is off-kilter beside yours, unable to capture himself in the frame for all his long reach. The peek of the striped scarf you’d knitted for him in gray and blue is all that’s visible of him under his peacoat, the mismatched weave of it captured even in this poor exposure.

“Base note: cedarwood,” you read, carefully, eyes hazing a bit with emotion. Evergreen.

“I still have it, you know,” he murmurs against your temple. “I only stopped wearing it because it started unraveling.”

“I’d make you another but I quit knitting after making three scarves,” you say, wryly. “Well two and a half, actually, I ran out of yarn on Jungwoo’s and made him a hat instead.”

“I thought you were just trying to get him to hide that ridiculous military haircut,” Doyoung muses. “Keep going or we’ll be here all night.”

“Now you’re impatient?” you ask, cementing your flirtation by shifting in his lap. You can’t ignore the feeling of his erection folded against the curve of your ass, or the way he grunts when you find a better seat with it nestled between your thighs.

“Sometimes I forget you were put on this planet to vex me,” he says. You’re lifted up by the waist, a hand on your lower back the moment you’ve found the desk for support, face above the book. 

“Why don’t you try reading until I’m satisfied you know exactly what you’re getting?”

You don’t fight him, elbows bent as he rucks up your skirt. You feel your face grow warm with blood as you find yourself exposed to him again, locked in by his legs and his groping touch reaching up beneath your shirt. 

"Base notes: amber and–" you have to fight to keep your voice steady as he swats your exposed curves, hard enough to sting. 

"Ambergris,” he corrects, voice fried with delight.

“Ambergris,” you repeat. “And white musk."

"Good. And?"

"Bisabol–" you begin, corrected with another slap on your ass that hits, hard, glass jingling on the table.

"Did you jump ahead?" He asks, knowing full well your eyes are swimming with tears. 

"No sir," you say. “I didn’t think that was a real word.”

"Opoponax." He says, reaching over you to grab a bottle, dropping a thick oil on you and rubbing it into your bruising skin. "Also known as sweet myrrh. Go ahead. Keep reading."

"Source: distilled from resin from ancient groves in Somalia, bought in Mogadishu from a local orchard, all profits to fund schools and clinics for women displaced by civil war." 

"Do you believe this to be a charitable effort?" He asks, hand spreading over your buttocks. You think he might be referring more to your arrangement than whatever is written on the page.

"No," you say. Your history and political know-how might be lacking but you've seen the wrong side of kindness. "It sounds like what people write to make themselves feel better about exploitation."

"Clever girl," he answers. You feel his nose brush against your skin, testing the mingling of scent with it. "Keep going."

You turn the page, swallowing back your protests. This spread is rich with text and color, a veritable garden bursting from the page. You fix on the first entry in the upper corner, bracing yourself for another faux pas.

"Heart notes: Turkish rose," you say. "What is this, poetry?"

"Aren’t you familiar with it?"

You shake your head, lips pursed in delight at the scrawl of English. “No.”

You let out a gasp as he bites the flesh nearer your back, the sting of it surely leaving a mark by the way the pain lingers.  

"Read it," he says, dipping over you for another bottle. “You’ll remember.”

"I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, where oxlips and the nodding violet grows," you dictate, stumbling over every word and yet never punished for it. Instead Doyoung lets a steady drip of the bottle fall down the back of your leg to your knee, his fingers bringing up the rest to mix what he's already poured on you.

"Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, with sweet musk-roses and with eglantine." 

You end your recitation in a whisper, leather binding and paper gripped in your fingers as he massages the oil gently into your tingling skin, careful to avoid where your legs are locked together in arousal. You're heady with scent and sensation, awaiting some reminder that this isn't just a strange dream you’ve wandered into.

"There sleeps Titania sometime of the night, lulled in these flowers with dances and delight," he finishes for you as he paints the rest up your spine beneath your shirt. You let him ministrate on your body as the words settle, as time recedes and you face a version of your youth you’re not sure isn’t just fiction. 

That book beside you, the first time he’d spoken to, long forgotten.

“Midsummer’s Night Dream,” you say, turning to face him again, settling between his thighs as he fails to meet your gaze. You lift his face with your fingers, cheeks indented by your gentle hold. “You remembered that, too?”

“It was the first time you ever looked at me,” he says. “And it felt like you saw right through me.”

No, you’re not dreaming. You’re the architect of this moment just as much as he’ll claim to be a cursory observer if confronted on it. 

You take in his mismatched eyes–one folding a little more than the other when he smiles at you ruefully. Those freckles you’d never really spent time examining, a happy accident of the time he’d spent with you in the sun. His fingers catching yours for a moment when you weren’t paying attention.

But most of all, the haunted cast where he’d lost sleep managing someone else’s problems. When he’d still been worrying about yours.

“You’re always thinking of how to take care of the people around you, I think you’ve forgotten how to relax and let other people take care of you.”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “I don’t think I ever really saw you until now.”

“What didn’t you see?” he asks, expectantly.

Six years of his careful distance from you, that coldness and disinterest just another mask for someone who was as raw and vulnerable and real as you if you managed to pry open their shell. His tendency towards control, towards the knife’s slice of cutting you so cleanly from his life no one would know your name unless he spoke it aloud.

There wasn’t another human being in their right mind who’d last that test, your only grace being that he’d thought you were untouchable. His best friend’s girlfriend, of course. But beyond that, one of his best friends. 

No, one of his only friends.

“What didn’t you see?”

It wouldn’t require money or taste or a family name to bring Saint Kim down to earth. Just time and small acts of resistance, like the beautiful shell remnants you’d spilled into his hands on that last trip to Maui together, when it had still been the five of you. Each ground down to a small disc with a perfect spiral at its center, a reminder of the beauty remaining in broken things.

You place the notebook in his hands, curling your fingers around his. The pages it’s opened to are sparsely constructed, besides the photographs nestled between. Only you two know what’s there, buried in black sands and blue waters. You can see his handwriting falter where he’s written the notes for this moment in your shared history, sketches of those shells, and flowers.

A single photograph of you watching the others playing in the surf, his shadow cutting across the stretch of your legs.

Top notes: Jasmine for sensuality. 

Orange Blossom for innocence. 

Plumeria, for admiration. a new beginning . . .

You recognize the creamy yellow-white flower he’d tucked behind your left ear when you’d fallen asleep beside him. A non-native plant to the island, you’d learned, worn to indicate one was taken. A weed, like you, now prized as a treasure.

“What didn’t you see?”

You pull back to look at him, giving him yourself without reservation. 

“That I think you love me . . .” you say. “. . . Like I think I love you, too.” 

He looks up at you, astounded, the chair beneath him creaking as he collapses. 

For once you regret being beside him when you’d heard the same words spoken to him by other people, pulled into their lives without you ever remembering their names. The difference between you, you once believed, was that they didn’t mean it. 

Now, you understand, they just never knew the true cost of losing him. 

You watch him collect himself, running a hand back through his hair and curling into his seat, memories forgotten in his lap, bedamned. You’re sure the engines of Hell are running hot for the way he can’t even look at you right now. 

He needs a way out, you think. You’d rather be drowned in other women’s wine poured over your head than be on the receiving end of his disregard again, the script already constructed in your mind before you’d found you had the nerve to sleep with him.

"You can be honest with me,” you say. “Tell me it's been fun but you're not interested in a relationship.”

“What?” Doyoung is just as confused as when you’d told him you loved him, as honest as you’ve been in both sentiments. 

“Your family will never approve of me. I’m just another fling you happened to take a more lasting interest in. It’s better this way. Cut me off, forget about me and move on.”

It's his turn to balk. You expect his pre-programmed response. Saint Kim's gospel for turning down the interested but uninteresting party: deflect, dissuade, detach. 

“No,” he says, face draining of color.

“It’s okay,” you say. “I can handle it. Really. We can still be friends.” 

“No,” he repeats, more forcefully.

“What do you mean, no?” you ask. “Isn’t that how this always ends?”

“You stupid girl,” he says, grabbing your face in his hands so you can’t escape, making you look into his warm gaze. 

"Don’t you get it? This was always about feelings.”

When his lips crush against yours you don't have to speak to respond, catching his head so you’re not suffocated by the raw emotion you can feel in every movement. You return each kiss until the breath is out of your lungs, until you're drowning in his scent as he forces you back onto the desk.

You’re impatient to feel him, everywhere, aware you’re ripping buttons as you open his shirt to gain access to his smooth chest, trailing kisses as far down as you can go, still unable to escape his tongue sliding over yours.  

“I wasn’t going to do this here, like this, but fuck it,” he says once he’s free, fumbling with his belt as he holds you to pepper your face and neck in a steady reminder of his affection. “I need you.”

“I need you, too,” you echo wholeheartedly, helping free him out of his clothing, pulling his length to where you’re still slick with oils and cum and ready for him. God, you think you’ve never been more ready to break around him, to show him what he’s brought out of you with this game.

“Please don’t make me wait anymore,” you whisper. 

You watch his face, breath held and heart stuttering as he sinks into you slowly, both of you gasping at the way your heat resists each measure of his continuous thrust. It feels like he’s barely in you when he stops, making you moan in dismay.

“Doie, please,” you say, trying and failing to wrap your legs around his slender hips to capture him deeper. You’re half out of your mind with that burning weight inside you remaining still.

“Say it,” he says, taking off your shirt to have access to your skin. He pulls down your bra, nipples tugged between his fingers as he assaults your neck with his tongue and teeth.

“It’s special,” you choke out. “Thank you, please–”

“Say it,” he corrects, twitching inside you but not moving an inch more. He curls down to nip at your breast above the lace, sucking a mark into the softest part. “Without the ‘I think’.” 

“No,” you resist, realizing what he’s asking too late. Your nails sink into his half-bared shoulder, head rolling against his. “You don’t get to torture me for that.”

“Don’t chicken out on me now.” Doyoung laughs against your cheek, hand splaying around your hip to still your squirming. “I can do this as long as it takes.”

He thrusts, just a little more, making you cry out in desperation as the contents of the desk tinkle behind you. 

“Fuck,” you breathe. “You think I love you?”

“So, so close.” He pulls out, rocking into you again to feel the seize of your entire body when you anticipate just how far he’ll go before denying you. A little more, at least, and you can feel how much it’s taking for him, see the strain in his body as he holds back.

“You love me,” you tease, this time not a question, no you think. “Saint Kim loves me.”

He sheathes himself in you fully, gripping your nape to kiss you as you clench involuntarily around him, protests in the back of your throat muffled by his tongue sliding across yours. He tugs at your bottom lip when he breaks free, fully smiling now like he isn’t buried completely in your cunt just warming himself instead of chasing his own bliss.

“What did you call me?” he asks, leaning over you to retrieve something. 

You take advantage of his distraction to snake a hand between you, slipping beneath your skirt before it’s grabbed, tight, and brought up to his lips. 

“Don’t cheat,” he says, wrapping your fingers around the cap of a bottle. 

“You never heard anyone call you that?” you murmur, opening it. 

You smell spring flowers and delicate citrus before it’s taken away, set aside when you nibble and suck at his sensitive ear to make him twitch, hands drifting across his ticklish belly down to his hipbones. He reads your intent again, stopping whatever silly task he’s doing beside you to lift your wrists to his shoulders. 

“The name is a little ironic, isn’t it?” you say, squeezing him experimentally with your thighs as you stroke his nape with your nails. You flex other muscles too–earning the grunt he makes as he feels you squeeze around his girth. 

He angles your head, pressing something wet and soft to where your pulse flutters in your neck. You’re immediately permeated with a light, airy, sweetness, the different scents revealed like a melody that ends in that richer, warmer scent from earlier. 

“Is that my perfume?” you ask. 

“An anointment,” he says, blowing across your skin to dry it and sending a shiver down your spine to where your bodies are locked together, that fullness and muted pleasure of him radiating down to your toes.

“I do seem to have a demon inside of me,” you sigh into his neck as you rest your head against his shoulder. “Do they do that in exorcisms?”

“Blessings,” he corrects, adjusting with another grunt. “We’ll find out if it worked in about an hour.”

“An hour?” you grumble. “You think you can keep torturing me that long?”

“I think I gave you the key to your own cage,” he says, checking his watch. “About five minutes ago. Does it feel like longer?”

You mumble something into his rumpled collar, making him laugh beneath you. Even just that tiny movement has you involuntarily gripping him, abdomen clenched. 

“What’s that?”

“I’llsayitifyoumakemecome,” you repeat, embarrassed enough to hide your face in the crook of his neck again. 

“You think this is a negotiation, Y/N?” Doyoung’s hands are back on your breasts, thumbing the areola in slow circles that are very much a reminder of his touch earlier on your throbbing clit. You whimper, trying to stay still so he doesn’t figure out that if he continues to do that you might have a chance–

“You trying to make me come squeezing me like that?” he asks, breath ragged. “That seems like a quick way to end this.”

“You . . . you could just fuck me,” you wheeze, feeling the way he teases your pebbled, hard nipple with lighter brushes, his mouth quirked where it’s pressed to your forehead. 

“What if I want to make love to you, instead?” he asks. He inhales sharply at your body’s response. 

“Fuck, you liked me saying that, didn’t you?”

You nod, unable to speak, holding onto him in desperation as the combination of his words and soft strokes make you melt into the pleasure of every small motion of him inside you. You realize he’s unconsciously pushing into you, too, unable to keep his hips from pressing into yours. 

Overstimulation is making you hyperaware of the scratch of his unzipped jeans against your burning thighs, the random brush of his open belt against your belly. Time seems to disappear as he holds you quietly, letting you soak up the fragrant, radiating warm reality of him.

“I can wait all night for it,” he threatens, even just his lower register making you quiver a little around him. “Count every time you twitch and moan on me until you break.”

You’d felt him flag a little while he worked but now he’s fuller inside you, stretching you wide as he twitches to life. It’s even hotter than all of this build-up, you think, knowing he can act a menace but that the idea of you surrendering to him is what’s really getting him off.

Of course, you think, mentally steeling yourself like you’re preparing for war. In a way this is something like it, up against as formidable a foe as he is. 

“Doie,” you whisper, threading your hands in his hair as you nuzzle for his lips, kissing him softly and intimately, like it’s your first time. “When did you know?”

“What?” He goes a little rigid against you, unable to hide his rapid heartbeat with how close you’re pressed to him. You blink up at him, expectantly. 

“When did you first know you loved me? Really?”

He smiles, shyly, but you see the hint of anxiety on his features beneath his arousal. There it is, you think, having to hide your own satisfaction. 

“Is this a trick question?” he asks, warily, eyelashes half-lowered.

“Not if I know the answer,” you say, smoothing his kiss-swollen lips with a touch. “I don’t think it’s in that book, either.”

“Really?” He’s intrigued, a tentative rock of his hips against you making you dizzy. “Tell me.”

You shake your head, just as playful. 

“I’ll tell you later,” you say. “After.”

He sighs explosively, nose wrinkling. “You don’t know.”

“Want to bet?” you ask. It’s always a little thrilling seeing Doyoung presented with an opportunity he can’t resist. He fumbles for the notebook beside you, almost slipping out of you when he has to reach even farther for a pen.

“Write it down,” he says, smug as a cat who’s caught something small and easily toyed with. 

“Only if you do, too,” you say.

His answer is a pained sound of agreement, adjusting himself against the desk. 

“No peeking,” you say, flipping to a page in the back. 

“Wait,” he says, grabbing the book before the nib of the nice pen touches the creamy paper. “What are the terms?”

You ponder for a moment, feeling a grin slide onto your lips. “Doesn’t our perfume need a name? Whoever is right, gets to name it.”

You can practically taste his delight as he leans in to kiss you, forcing you to pull your page closer to you. You make him wait, filling the blank space as best you can with detail as he fidgets between your legs, sending small shocks of pleasure through you both. 

“Thank you,” he says in earnest once you’ve handed him it open to a new leaf, his hand and the notebook shaking a little as he tries to write mid-air, finally resting it awkwardly atop your head in order to scrawl out his own answer.

“My eyes are closed, Kim Doyoung.” 

“You’re a cheat,” he says, shushing you with an added thrust of his hips. 

You settle back on your elbows, already enjoying your victory as you feel the tiny pressure of his handwriting, hear the scratches of his sketch. You're more emboldened than ever when the leather binding snaps shut.

“Now tell me,” you say, looking up at him coyly. 

“Can’t I just show you–”

You snatch the book from him, turning to your entry. Then, to his horror, you rip your page free and fold it shut, tucking it into the pocket of his open shirt.

“Tomorrow morning,” you say. “You had 24 hours, right? I’ll give you my answer tomorrow morning.”

Doyoung looks as if he’s tasted something sour. “You won’t tell me.”

“I’ll tell you that you won,” you say, looking down at his page. You trace the fresh ink with care, admiring his tight script and explanation. “February to April? How could I have guessed an entire season?” 

“Did you at least guess the year?” he asks, looking a little better for your affirmation of his win. 

You nod, finally feeling the discomfort of your position and resting your head against his warm chest. There’s nothing awkward about being wrapped around him like this, the late hour and strange, still space making it easier to forget the world outside.

“Hard to forget,” you say. “I thought for sure I’d never see you again after that winter holiday.”

Another break with Johnny, of course–but this one had been your choice. You’d finally felt the crushing weight of two years of contempt from the people around him, the Suh family matriarch at the center of it all, doing everything in her power to crush not only you but the people you loved. 

And then, when you’d needed him the most, Kim Doyoung had walked away from you, too. 

“I didn’t think I’d see you, either,” he sighs. “It was the first time in a long time you weren’t with us. With me. And it was my fault for pushing you away when you were just trying to–”

“It’s in the past now,” you cut him short with a finger pressed to his lips. 

The memory is painful, still–and you don’t want to sully this moment with it. You appreciate that even in his roundabout admission there’s a clear understanding for all you’d been through. You’d hoped he remembered that time from the past, when you’d first peered between the cracks in his carefully-manufactured facade.

Now you could be sure of what it meant to him. You feel like your own walls are crumbling, the light shining through. 

“So you chose the period of time when we didn’t speak to one another, at all?” you muse. “Not just one day?”

“You know what they say. Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” he says. “You were on my mind every minute and every hour of those three and a half months.”

He pauses, sigh warm against your brow. “I couldn’t tell you when I knew, for sure. I certainly couldn’t admit it, then, even to myself. But sometime then, I realized I cared more about you than a friend.”

You’d never doubted he was capable of it, never doubted it might be true. But hearing him admit it, now you know why he wants to hear it from you, too.

“Say it,” you say.

He finally looks at you again, tired but alight with amusement.

“You first,” he says.

“Who knew three simple words would be so difficult for Saint Kim?” you tease him.

“Alright. Come here,” he motions, slipping out of you with a shared groan. He pulls you to a couch under the shuttered window, settling down and forcing you to straddle him. In this position he can’t stop you from immediately taking all of him, his eyelids fluttering when you bottom out.

“You feel like heaven,” he murmurs. 

“You’re not going to last,” you laugh, delighted by the way his nose scrunches when you clench around him. 

“Says the girl who’s sucking me in like you never want me to leave.” He grabs on to your hips to roll them against his own, fingers tightening when you wriggle against him. “You’re gonna say it first even if I have to fuck it out of you.”

“Whoever comes first, then?” you offer.

“I can live with that,” he sighs, head resting back on the couch. 

You rock on your knees slowly, satisfaction warming you throughout as you force him all the way inside you. You let him hear how he makes you feel, pleading sounds and whispers every time he hits that place in your upper walls, curved inside of you perfectly. It doesn’t matter if you're in control you can’t help but hunt down that lovely rush of pleasure in your belly, twining your arms around his shoulders to steady yourself. 

“Good girl,” Doyoung praises, watching you in awe through half-lidded eyes. “You’re so beautiful. I always wanted to know what it would look like when you lost yourself with me.”

His words make you shiver, brushing his lips until he holds you against his mouth to show you how he likes it, less exploratory and more confident. It’s maddening how good he is at this, making you feel every single sweep of his tongue across yours, hand on your neck keeping you from escaping. 

“Don’t you want to–” you protest as he helps you to lay flat on your back across the length of the wide loveseat, settling between your thighs. 

“Oh god, Doie,” you whimper when he takes over, finally, finally, beginning to fuck you. It’s just as slow but at least he penetrates you fully before pulling out almost all the way, shoulders quaking as he holds himself up. 

“Promise me you'll let me dote on you for the rest of your life,” he says, not waiting for your response before driving into you again. His movements are barely controlled, grunts escaping the back of his throat when his hips snap into yours again.  

“I promise,” you hold onto him, back arching off the cushion to meet him, blissed out in the relief of each, careful stroke against your fluttering walls. That crescendo is happening whether you want it to or not, every overworked knot of muscle threatening to snap loose. 

“Promise me that no matter who you fuck you’ll always let me treat you right,” he says, voice breaking. “You’ll let me show you how I feel even when I can’t say it.”

“Yes, Doie. Yes.” You pull down on his shoulders, trying to move for you both, kissing his jaw and throat.

“Stop fighting me and take it,” he says, moving more easily with the thick coat of your cum, establishing a gentle rhythm. 

His voice has always made it hard for you to pay attention to anything else but he abuses that power now, murmuring guidance into your neck that has you tightening around him as he fucks you deep and slow. 

“That’s my girl,” he praises. “You’re taking me so well. Take all of me.”

You feel shivers up and down your body, nipples hardening tight as they brush against his chest, his hair tickling your forehead as he blindly kisses and licks at your mouth and chin. 

You’d thought he’d be concentrating on something else in his head to keep from losing himself but instead it’s you who's floating, breath captured in your lungs when he adjusts on top of you to pin your hips down, pressing your leg wide to bury himself to the hilt.

“You feel so perfect. I could really do this all night, you know,” he smirks down at you from where he’s supported on his elbow. “Is that what you want?”

“No, fuck, please,” you whine. There’s no thoughts in your head besides just how much you want that ache inside of your cunt to melt into real pleasure. 

“You want me to stop?” he asks, feeling how you begin to pulse around him as he swirls his hips up into that most sensitive part of you, his flat belly grinding into your clit. You gasp, leg locking around his, helping him work you apart.

“No no no,” you beg, face hot. “Just . . . just kiss me through it, please.”

Doyoung’s smile grows wider. “Say what you already told me.”

You twist your head against the cushion, earning his hand on your jaw as he makes you look at him while you break, kissing you between panting breaths. His confidence is written in the cocksure grin remaining on his mouth, more cruel when he bites at your bottom lip, hard, before licking the pain away. 

“Say it,” he breathes, slowing down on purpose. 

“I . . . ah,” you cry out, “I love . . . please don’t stop.” 

“What’s that?” he asks, pace punishingly slow. Your legs lose feeling, vibrations starting in the back of your thighs and tremoring down to your feet. 

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” you repeat, nearly tipping off the edge, “I’m coming, I’m finally–”

He slows down right as you hit that crest, making you cry out in frustration. 

“Doie, I’ll kill you–”

“Say it,” he says into your lips, pulling out–too far–

“Iloveyou,” you exhale, seizing around him in time to your wildly beating heart.

“Louder.” He slams into you again, merciless.

“I love you, you stupid bastard,” you say, hanging on to his shoulders. “I love you!”

“Good enough,” he says, drilling into you until he can feel you break, orgasm sustained through the painful pressure of him losing himself in your throbbing heat, finding your mouth again, finally, to silence the repeated mantra on your tongue.

You kiss him fiercely, unloading everything words aren’t enough for, legs tied around his waist to keep him locked inside you until he’s fighting back, fucking you so hard the sound of it fills the quiet room. 

“I love you,” you repeat a final time for him, just to watch the way it makes him break, jaw slackening when he loses control, finally. 

He stutters into his own orgasm, teeth scraping against your locked lips, forehead pressed into yours as he empties inside you for what feels like forever, finally collapsing on top of you with a whimper when his arms give out and he’s as limp as his cock inside you. 

You scrape your nails across his scalp, soothing him. You don’t mind his weight, or the way you’re still pressed together with sweat and your combined spend. 

“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” he rasps, eyes dazed as he looks up at you. 

“No,” you say, shaking your head tightly. “Not for me, at least.”

“You’re not mad?” 

You know he means his inability to say the magic words but you crack a smile, just as pleased with yourself. 

“About the bet?” you ask. “No.”

Oh, it’s delicious seeing realization dawn on his face, little glimmers of surprise and horror bubbling up from his afterglow. 

“Fuck,” he says. You’re grateful he doesn’t deny it, rolling to the side in defeat. 

“Who told you? ‘Woo?”

You laugh softly, rolling over to pin him down with your leg, trapping him against the back of the couch. 

“You did, right now,” you say, relishing having him where you want him. “I had a hunch. And I know you, you’d never beg for someone to say something during sex–”

“I didn’t beg,” he corrects, grimacing.

“What was it? The first one to get me to say it? Bonus points if it’s on your cock?”

“Ah, well,” he says, perking up despite the fist pressed to his forehead in embarrassment. “Then you don’t know.”

“I’ll find out soon enough, Jaehyun wouldn’t–”

“You’re really not mad?” he asks, painfully reticent as you pull his hand away from his face and twine your fingers together.

“Not if it means I can use it as leverage,” you say, kissing his knuckles.

That doesn’t seem to surprise him, at all. 

“Good girl,” he says. “What do you want?”

A few years ago, give or take 

You’re a little too happy, an awful fact considering how much he'd missed seeing you this way.

Lately you’ve been sleepwalking through your life, all those tiny fractures and bruises finally having the time to mend–but healing is a painful process in itself. Doyoung had returned from his family’s formal Chuseok gathering in Singapore, eager to check in on you after receiving sparing responses from you via text.

You didn’t have a friend he could check in with instead any longer–not after that one girl had fled the country, the other ghosting you after their father was mysteriously laid off from a company he well knew did business with Suh International. 

He’s worried about you long before that, terrified that one last straw would break you even if by all indications you were strong enough to take it. After you’d had Johnny arrested and solicited a no-contact order you’d cut your ex off completely, moving to a tiny apartment far from where you’d grown up, changing your number. 

Only Jungwoo knew about it, and it was he who’d reluctantly offered your whereabouts to him after a few glasses of whiskey in their usual club. 

“She asked me to keep her info on lockdown. Got that hacker kid, what’s his name–Haechan? Wiped her socials off the map, so he can’t find her. He did good but you know Suh.”

Doyoung nods. They hadn’t seen him in a few weeks, probably because the idiot was combing through every civic office and apartment building in the city. Hell, he’d probably driven around until he found her by sight alone, knowing that animal wouldn’t rest until he knew her whereabouts, as stubborn about chasing her down as he was about refusing the F4’s help. 

“His mother called me to ask if the place he bought in cash was for her,” Doyoung says, knocking back his drink as he receives a text, heart sinking that it's not you. “Did you help him buy it for her?”

Jungwoo sighs. “No. I just got her rent halved with some coercion, you know? But then he goes and buys a unit in the same building with whatever stash he thought the Old Tiger didn’t know about.” 

The Devil Kim leans back, long legs akimbo as he gestures towards the server for a refill. “He’s waiting for her to go back to Chicago before he moves in. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

“I did not,” Doyoung affirms, turning away from the group of women at the bar sending looks towards their private table. “Let’s plan for when Madam Suh leaves. I can have her pull him into the London offices, considering he’s failing his courses.”

“Stone cold,” Jungwoo says, smirking. “Glad I’m not on your shit list.”

“Just don’t fuck with her,” Doyoung says. “Or fuck her.”

Jungwoo laughs into his glass. “Even I’m not that stupid.”

He’d thought he wasn’t, either. 

Not until you’d called a few days later, your speech a little slurred. He couldn’t have told you if what he was doing was important even if he was in a meeting, showing up to find you picking at a bowl of bar snacks in what he thought might be one of the nicer bars in your shitty part of town. Not as shitty as your old neighborhood, but it wasn’t a competition.

“Saint Kim,” you’d heralded him, raising an empty glass still smelling of watermelon and hibiscus. 

“You shouldn’t be drinking alone, here,” he’d said. 

You were dressed in one of your few nice outfits, a little on the revealing side for his tastes, but those had been Johnny’s you’d conformed to–animal print and thin straps, tastefully tasteless.

“I wasn’t,” you say, hiccuping. “Alone.”

For the first time in a long time fear spikes his blood pressure into overgear. Were you drugged? Was he going to have to fend off another predator who'd found you vulnerable?

You deserved the chance to move on but there was a real threat in what would happen to anyone who approached you without their permission. Johnny’s, yes, always, but the F4 had also agreed to look out for you well before your last incident at a club. 

“Who?”

“She left,” you say. He feels instant relief, reaching out to adjust the thin coverup slipping off your bare shoulder. 

“You make a new friend?”

You shake your head. “She’s nice. Met her in one of the ikebana classes work is paying for. Thought we were hitting it off but I must have said something dumb because she ran out of here, fast.”

You look up at him cautiously, too inebriated to realize he can recognize a set-up before it begins.

“You didn’t just talk about your ex, did you?” he asks, settling beside you at the bar. He orders something less ridiculous than whatever you'd been drinking, while you scroll through an Instagram feed, finger trembling over the screen. 

You look up at him, color-stained lips curving in an easy smile. “You want to see what we’re working on?”

Doyoung finds himself looking through a grid that is immediately obvious is not yours. His mouth goes dry, seeing rows of beautifully-staged floral centerpieces, the backgrounds as familiar as the back of his hand. You don’t seem to notice, going to the user’s story and tapping in vain to find the picture she’d posted.

“She deleted it already. Huh. Well, she texted me the picture–”

“Stop.” Doyoung places his hand over yours, his palm damp from the immediate flood of adrenaline. 

“So you do know Mona,” you say. You look up at him, expectantly, eyes glassy with the brand of hopefulness and naked curiosity he’s seen you charm everyone else around you with before. 

“She’s the one, isn’t she?”

Doyoung pulls cash from his pocket, not caring how much he puts down except that he’s sure it’s enough to cover the amount he’d like to drown himself in right now. Enough to go blind and burn out the phantom of that face he’d put behind him years ago. 

“Put your coat on,” he says. “I’m driving you home.”

“But I’m not–”

“Now,” Doyoung says, grabbing your wrist. He’s barely ever touched you in the years that you’ve been friends, and it sickens him when he feels you freeze in fear and confusion, that trauma response buried so deeply it's in your bones.

He wants to be kind, he wants to be patient with you. He just doesn’t have it in him to be anything to you right now.

“What’s wrong, Do–?”

“We’re leaving,” he says, dragging you out into the bitter cold evening, the streets slick with sleet, your heels catching on the pavement as you stumble in his wake.

“Stop,” you yell at his back, trying to yank your arm free from where he’s bruising your skin with whitened knuckles. “You’re hurting me–”

“You’ll live,” he says, pulling you to where he’s parked his car, the engine roaring to life the moment you manage to close your door. He can barely look at you, realizing too late that your crestfallen expression is making him more upset than the lightning strike of seeing her name again.

“You didn’t ask my address,” you say, quietly, met with his silence as he drives much more dangerously than the weather permits. He's forced to speak with you once he's slammed the brakes at an intersection, red light shading you through the windshield.

“Tell me one thing,” he says. “Did you try to set us up by having me come there?”

You’re petulantly silent now, an answer in itself.

“Answer me,” he orders, hands gripping the wheel.

“I thought you’d want to–”

“Do you think we have the kind of relationship where you can just do whatever you want and get away with it?” Doyoung’s voice is calm but he sees you flinch at his words and tone, your shoulders moving under your jacket as you begin to quietly cry. 

It drives him deeper into anger, hitting the gas with a roar of the engine the instant the light turns green. 

“You don’t get to feel sorry for yourself for this one, Y/N,” he says, already regretting every word tumbling out of his mouth. “You fucked up.”

“I just thought you could both have some closure after that–”

The car jerks as he brakes in the side lane of the service road, cars roaring past them honking their horns. Your sobs are barely audible over the idling engine and the blink of the hazards he turns on while he tries to find calm, your face turned away from him. 

“You thought that interfering in other people’s personal lives would make you feel better,” he says. “No wonder you don’t have any real friends.”

Out of the corner of his eye he can see your full body shakes still, can feel as that armor encasement you’d put together piece-by-piece over years of dealing with loveless reality falls back into place. And, years later–no, even hours later–he’ll remember how at the time he was stupid enough to think it was the right thing to say. 

You needed a reality check, he’d thought. A reminder that all the wishes and hopes in the world wouldn’t change the bleak architecture of it, uncaring by design and much easier to navigate without them. That moving on was the only path to this idiot’s dream of closure, something you knew nothing about for how often you’d let them pull you back into their world, blinded by sunk-cost and loneliness. 

All the things he wished he believed for himself, but without the benefit of your optimism.

“Fuck you, Kim Doyoung,” you say, opening the car door and slamming it shut without so much as a glance behind you. He’d waited to make sure you reached the nearest bus stop before driving off, calling Jungwoo to let him know you were here–crying in the cold. 

He'd seen you in passing.

His best friend knew a lie when he’d heard it, most especially from him. 

He wouldn't hear from you again until spring.

Kim Doyoung can’t sleep. 

He’s not allowed to. 

He can’t move either, arm going numb beneath your curled body, your breathing finally easing for the dozenth time since his trial began. You have horrible sleep habits–kicking off the covers, stealing the pillows–but tonight you’ve passed out with that same bone-deep tiredness he’d felt earlier, face beatific in the slivers of light piercing through the slatted shades. 

It’s close to dawn, he thinks, the cacophony of insects and birds outside transitioning from a quiet chorus to a full orchestral suite. Soon it will be too loud to sleep deeply. 

“Y/N?” he whispers, tentatively, not daring to move.

You don’t respond, relief rushing through him. It’s not that he’s desperate to join you in slumber but that he’s waited for you to finally surrender to REM. He needed you down. 

And you needed it, too. 

He’d negotiated with Jaehyun when you’d been in the shower, earlier, sacrificing precious moments of shared time exploring your skin and the new taste of you under the water to supplicate himself to his best friend and worst enemy in this moment.

“It’s a charter,” Jaehyun said, blinking sleep from his eyes but awake enough to be angry. “You’re not finding another one short term.”

“I emailed you the tickets. Cattle car but first class, at least,” he says. “Jungwoo agreed to give you his day, he doesn’t want to take her out until after dark, anyway. You can sleep in tomorrow.”

“Fine.” Jaehyun had slammed the door shut in his face, but he hadn’t missed the budding smile on his friend’s face. At least one person was rooting for him.

That’s how he’d earned another morning with you. As always, making up for lost time.

You’re half out of the covers, one leg sprawled over the duvet as you sleep. You’d put on one of his softer button-downs, inhaling the smell of it after he tried to steal it back. 

“Please let me wear you,” you said. “I want to dream about you.”

Being around you like this is more comfortable than he imagined, as if you’re being slotted into a position he didn’t even know there was an existing space for. He’s woken up to women in his bed but you’re the first who’s ever asked him for this, particular experience.

“I used to have this fantasy, you know, whenever we crashed at your apartment.” He’d watched you go sheepish recalling, dates omitted for a reason. “Sometimes I’d lie there and touch myself thinking about you crawling into that guest bed–maybe a little drunk or you’d forget which room. Or maybe, you just wanted me to think that. I’d be awake but I’d pretend to be asleep while you . . . used me.” 

He experiments by tracing his fingertips up your bare leg, the peek of your lace underwear beneath the hem of his shirt maddening for how it curves into the crest of your ass, presented for him. A treat dangled before him, the command to partake only that you wanted him to make it slow–you wanted to wake to it.

He sucks a breath in, erection in his sweatpants hard against the band already from just watching his sleeping beauty. He finds every mark on your leg, every fine hair, thanking Heaven above you aren’t overly sensitive or ticklish like he is when his hand slips beneath his shirt to your belly. 

He slots himself against you, carefully, as if adjusting in his sleep. He has to wait for your breathing to even out again, slipping his free hand up to your breasts. 

“Used you? Did you not get off in this scenario?”

“I mean, yes. But it’s mostly about you. You wouldn’t say anything at all, you’d just fuck me full of your cum and then you’d leave me leaking it on your sheets and go back to your room. Or sometimes I’d crawl in your bed, if you were alone, and you’d cover my mouth so the others couldn’t hear it. And the next day it would be like nothing happened, you wouldn’t even bother to ask how I’d slept.” 

He loved how much of a slut you were, when you felt comfortable enough to share that side with someone. Johnny had certainly never appreciated the subtleties of your nature–too blinded by adoration to even consider degrading you on purpose. 

No, Doyoung had known for awhile you pushed the boundaries with him to see if he’d break.

Your nipples harden even though he’s barely handling them, discovering what shape your breasts make in repose as he tries desperately not to rut into the swell of your ass. Warming himself in you earlier had been one of the hardest challenges he’d faced but it had been worth it to learn you inside and out, to know how to make you grip his cock with that delicious little cunt of yours with just a kiss or a word that pleased you.  

You don’t wake but he knows he’s gotten through to that little lizard brain of yours when your legs rub together unconsciously, pushing back into him so his cock is settled between your buttocks. The friction from the lace is like the proverbial pea under a mattress–rubbing against his cock through the layers, catching on the veins and scraping the underside of his cockhead. 

It’s already a nice ache, one he ignores as he adjusts to better continue plucking and teasing at your body beneath your shirt, until you’re used to his touch enough to truly fall back under, once more.

You're so vulnerable, completely at his mercy as he brings his hand down to test the patch of moisture growing in the fabric, that lace sticky with your dreams of him. 

Use you, he thinks. You have no idea what he wants. 

Doyoung can play with the fantasy of you crawling into your boyfriend’s best friend’s bed while he’s passed out in the other room, determined to be punished for waking a sleeping monster . . . but it’s not what he's fantasizing about now. 

He takes time in stroking you, a single finger digging in between your lips through the fabric, listening intently for your breathing to change. You sigh, one of those full exhales one does in their deep sleep, but you arc back a little, into his touch, leg falling forward crooked so you’re a little more spread. 

Doyoung wishes he could move down there and use his nose to push you apart instead of his hand but that’s not your fantasy–not this time. You didn’t want him to spoil you anymore, completely underestimating his love for it. True, he didn’t often eat other girls out, too personal or just too much of a chore to figure out what they liked, but you weren’t ever going to be with him and not come from that first. 

Just the thought of tying you up so he can spend hours fucking you on his tongue is making his cock pulse, too hard to be ignored. He quietly pulls down the drawstring of his sleepwear, freeing himself so he can replace his finger with the much wider tip of his cock, biting back a groan as he rubs into that damp, soft lace he’d known would suit you the moment he’d touched it in the display box brought to his private buying room. 

You'd never know he’d already fucked himself with it before ever giving it to you, that errant fantasy of touching you finally realized as you whimper a little in your sleep at the soft push of him between your legs. He finds where your clit is getting just as swollen as the rest of you, bouncing against warmth and the promise of unspooling that need with his help, again.

Just his precious little cocksleeve, spoiled and worshiped, showing your gratitude by begging for it even when you’re unconscious. He tests the waters of the scenario by slowly pulling the seat of your underwear to the side, easing in between the fabric and your folds. 

You twitch against him, sheets rustling. He holds still, cock jumping and balls tightening with a little anxiety. 

He only has this one chance. 

Outside in the dark and quiet of the house sleeps the man everyone knows you’re really with, the one who doesn’t have to fight for an I love you to pass your lips. You’d never understood what it felt like watching you climb into Jaehyun’s lap whenever the whim took you, pretending you didn’t know what it did to him or the other two of them watching you.

Your breathing is shallow and your hand flexes a bit, against the pillow, but that’s it. Within a minute he’s grown more confident that you’re still asleep.

He reaches over you, pressing the pads of two fingers against the front of your underwear while he slips a little deeper between your legs, eyes almost rolling back in his head at the contrast between the satiny slide of you and the rougher cling of your panties. It’s a relief as he loses himself to it, rutting from the back while he applies constant pressure to your bud.

“Mmm.” You make a soft noise, but he doesn’t pull free, choosing instead to keep a hypnotizingly steady pace fucking against you. Your hips twitch against him, seeking out more contact, but he doesn’t rush–pressing his head against the back of yours and melding with you in the softness of the pillows and sheets. 

You’re so wet you’re soaking his pants, everything he collects tickling down to his balls pressed into your ass. He’s going to stuff your mouth with his fingers, when you finally open it, make you gag on them while he fills you full from behind. 

You moan now, voice syrupy with sleep. He doesn’t care if you’re still down, not with you gently pushing back, trying to get release.  

Not yet, you little harlot, he thinks, hips going still again. He’s burning at the wait, your cunt continuing to glide against him as you act out whatever is going on in your dreams, the movement making him insane for how closely it adheres to his desire to have taken you back when you were innocent, his little virgin weed learning what her body wanted, seeking it out in his bed.

“Treat me like one of the girls you don’t really like. Use me.”

Such an unending fantasy of yours that he never wanted you, almost sweet for how dumb you are–or just willfully ignorant. He’s always liked the second one better–your little game played out that you were one of them. Dressed in that school uniform, kicking your skinned knees, sucking on a piece of candy while four college-age idiots hid their bathing-suited boners under their robes, fighting or fucking around in front of you so you could keep up that precious little illusion of immunity. 

“Johnny,” you murmur in your sleep. 

It should make his blood run cold but as with all twisted-up and tangled desires it only makes him feel ignited, pulse pounding in his head. You’re still asleep and thinking of someone else, someone not even in this house, the guilt of it passing over him faster than a cloud on a breezy day. 

He rocks back into you, this time pulling out enough that he can find your soft hole, already tight again–the only part of your body not relaxed as he forces his way past the flutter of your opening, cockhead sensitive enough to sense the more textured g-spot where he knows you’ll come fast and easy if he fucks into it. 

“Shh,” he says, finally trailing his mouth against your jaw, pushing into you softly. “Go back to sleep, baby.”

“Mmhmm,”  you reply, nuzzling into the pillow, curling into him. He pushes a knee between your legs, folding you into the bed beneath him as he begins to fuck you, finally taking you for himself and himself alone. 

You’re so warm inside, body adjusting to take him easily for how boneless you are, kitten-like mewls muffled by the pillow. It turns him on hearing the edge of pain there, the way you struggle when he pulls your underwear up so tight it sticks between your folds, clit rubbing against it the way he’d stroked himself to completion with it tied tight around his cock.

“Stay quiet or I’ll stuff your mouth full instead,” he whispers against your shoulder, feeling as always a little stupid but losing that internal cringe when you choke on a moan.

“Is that what my little slut was dreaming about? Gagging to tears on another man’s cock?”

He feels you tense at a bit at the suggestion, letting him use you in spite of the rougher handling. 

“That’s right. You said another man’s name in your sleep. Do you think that's acceptable?”

You shake your head, whimpering. 

“Such a whore you can't keep track of who's dick is inside of you. Tell me, who's fucking you right now?” 

“Doie,” you say, music to his ears. He'd always hated the nickname until you started using it. You were the only one–you were always the only one who made his chest burn with unsated desire when you said his name.

“Who owns this tight little pussy?” 

“You do,” you gasp out. 

“Are you going to forget me? Maybe I need to fuck you so hard you only think of me when you spread your legs for another man.” 

Doyoung feels electric at how easily you begin to crumble with just a few words, squeezing his dick so tight when he says something you like, even more when he makes it hurt. 

“Sleepy baby going to let me stuff every one of your holes until I’ve had enough? Use you like my own little doll?”

You nod, no longer capable of speaking except in a plaintive moan when he leaves you to shuck off his pants and pull down your ruined panties, pillow pulled beneath your belly to force your ass up. In this position he can drill into you deeper, burying you into the mattress with each thrust. 

“That’s what you get for crawling in here,” he says, fingers digging bruises into your hips to hold you down. “Keep your mouth shut and take it.”

The pleading, almost scared noises you're making have him hard and pulsing, two steps away from coming himself but in no hurry to. He pulls your hair to bring your head back, shoving his fingers in your mouth. 

“You like that?” Your cunt can't hide it, sucking him in. “Get them wet for me.” 

You drool over his knuckles, gagging as he fucks your mouth with them in an awkward rhythm to his merciless rutting. He spits into his hand when he's satisfied, fingers swirling around the tight rim of your ass so quickly it makes you buck. 

“Don't scream,” he murmurs, giving you two fingers at once. You make a noise through the pillow you're biting, gripping him tight. He's gentler with this, slowing, letting you adjust to take him.

“This is my favorite, right here,” he groans. “Feeling my cock inside you with my fingers. I'd fuck this tight little ass again but I want to feel you come like this.” 

He begins to stroke you harder, deeper, wet and sticky when his balls slap against your abused cunt. He keeps his fingers buried in you, scissoring you open as you take it.

“Come for me, Y/N, grip me good so I can fill that pretty mouth of yours.” 

It's a beautiful feeling when you begin to throb, contractions in your ring of muscle letting him know when you hit your peak. He fights the tingling in his balls, the urge to come with you painful for how long he's been holding it back. 

He talks you through it, instead.

“Such a good little hole,” he says. “You're coming so hard, baby, can feel it so well.” 

You moan, loud, as you break, loosening almost immediately, flooding him with sweet, hot warmth. He makes sure the last of those tics is gone before pulling out.

“Roll over,” he says, straddling you with a hand on the headboard, delighted by the sight of your flushed face and starry eyes. You already know what to do, tongue lolling and uvula exposed as he guides himself into your mouth, soft tongue swirling around his tip. 

God help him he's been thinking about this since yesterday, pushing deep enough to gag but not choke, fucking your mouth and the hot tightness of your throat when he hits it. It’s the sight more than anything that drives him to spill hot white ropes of cum into your mouth, pulling out to milk the last few splashes on your parted lips and delighting at the sight of you licking them with your spend-covered tongue.

“You’re so perfect,” he says, dropping down and kissing you, finally, tongues stroking each other until you finally pull free to breathe, blinking up sleepily at him. 

“You do taste different,” you tease.

“I taste like you,” he says, pressing soft kisses all over your face. “My sweet, sweet girl.”

“Did you like that?” you murmur. 

“I loved–” he pauses, watching the smile spread on your wet lips. 

“I love you, you know,” he finishes. You reach around his neck, comforting him out of instinct, but he doesn’t need it. 

“I love you,” he repeats, testing the words on his tongue now that they've flown out so easily, the tightness in his chest easing as you rise up to kiss him. 

“It's beautiful to hear you say it,” you say. “But you're right, I know.”

“I think I even know the exact time and date,” you say, reaching between you into the pocket of your shirt to pull out that torn and folded art paper scrawled with your words and an amateurish sketch.

Tomorrow morning . . .

[Unknown number] [Tomorrow morning April 13th dawn is at 6:17] [I have something to show you. Meet me on the roof of the East Wind Hotel]

Doyoung looks at the text message again, hand hanging over the railing of a dance floor, conversation with the woman by his side forgotten. With the blur of a late night and a trip to a different hotel room, with a different woman, he'd almost missed it.

Probably one of the innumerable flings he's had, Jungwoo recruiting him to get every last lick of enjoyment out of Seoul before he enlisted. His friend snatches the phone from his hand.

“No business,” Jungwoo slurs, eyes bloodshot as he focuses on the text. “I thought you weren't working hospitality anymore.” 

“It's not . . .” There's something nagging at him, like a bird pecking at his skull in time to the drone of the EM, the buzz of conversation. A sense of deja vu so strong he's forced to cycle on it. 

“Pfft. I know you don't bring girls back to your kingdom,” Jungwoo says. “Stop working and party.”

Doyoung doesn't know why he feels compelled to see the cryptic message through, doesn't know why he races across town at 5 am, reeking of whiskey and another woman’s perfume, doing his best to sober up as the designated driver talks about the change in weather, the cherry blossoms in full bloom outside the window.

The morning commute is already surging and the destination central to the city so by the time he makes it he's out of breath from running two blocks away from a jam, head pounding.

“ . . . restricted for non-guests,” someone is saying, voice recognizable as an intern he knows from his leadership program, still stuck on night front desk duty. 

“I just need a few minutes, please. I need to take a picture–” He'd recognize that voice in a hundred years if he hadn't heard it, not just a hundred days.

“What's going on here?” 

You freeze, shoulders stiffening as you turn to face him. Not much has changed–a new haircut, same ratty old sneakers–but you look different. No longer a ghost, but just as untouchable for the skittish way you hold when he approaches, only the barest relief on your beautiful features.

You don't smile, don't even say hello.

You're scared of him, again, just that thought making him spiral.

“You came,” you say, exhaling. “We need to hurry. We need to get to the roof.”

Doyoung turns to the staff. “Is the roof access still shut down?”

“Stair access only, sir.” 

Your eyes go wide at the interchange, something like embarrassment passing over your features as you begin to laugh. 

“Of course this is your hotel,” you state, smacking yourself on the forehead. “Of course, why didn't I think to check that. God, I'm an idiot.” 

“We didn’t change the name when we acquired the chain so it would be unlikely for you to have guessed that,” he says. “What are you doing here?” 

“There's no time and it's easier just to show you. We need to get to the roof, now,” you say, grabbing his wrist and tugging on it towards the stairs. 

“Y/N,” he says, holding you fixed and pointing at the elevator. “We can take it up as far as we need to.” 

You're still laughing maniacally twenty floors up. “I was going to cry if I had to go up another flight of stairs.” 

“Are you really taking pictures?” He asks, gesturing at your camera.

“No, but I started carrying it the first time someone called the police on me thinking I was going to jump,” you giggle, wiping away tears. He feels delirious from lack of sleep, so maybe you are, too, but it doesn't seem to be the case as you spring out the doors, forcing him to guide you when you're lost in the executive suite hallways.

“I managed to sneak in last time, otherwise I wouldn't have gotten this far. I'm glad you came just in time, I think they were going to kick me out.”

He's surprised at how easily things have snapped back into place between you, no mention of anything that's happened as you race up the stairwell to the roof access. 

“Will you tell me–”

“Oh thank god,” you say once your through the heavy doors and collapsed on the green helipad, growing impatient when he props the door open out of habit. He's been up here many times, nothing remarkable about the space besides the legacy sign on top, view crowded by other buildings at varying levels. 

“Stand here,” you say, pushing him into place, turning him by the arms. “Do you see it?”

“I don't even know what I'm looking for,” he says, beginning to grow annoyed. 

“Look over there, at the People's Bank. Relax your eyes, it will only take a minute.”

He feels increasingly foolish but he does what you ask, cool morning breeze clearing his muddled head. The sky is washed in a pink and blue haze, the sun cresting the more mountainous region of the city behind you to bathe the city in solid gold.

“There,” you breathe, letting out a little sigh.

“What?” All he can see is a few birds passing over the vista of crowded advertisements and neon. 

“Do you see the light?” you ask. 

“There's tons of lights–” he begins, cut short by the blinding catch of the sun's reflection on one of the characters, then another. He spells it out slowly, guided by your hand holding his to each one. 

The bank: Sa. 

The next building over, also burning brighter with the touch of the sun: Rang. 

Then an advertisement that has been up long enough most of the original message is lost. Hae.

“How did you find this?” he asks, knowing it would be impossible for him to have ever seen this without knowing the trick of the light. 

“I didn't find it. Well I did–I had to search some buildings for it.” 

Later he'll find out you climbed close to fifty flights of stairs in the last two months, had spent every waking moment not working or in school breaking into buildings before sunrise to find that exact spot, forever amused at the thought you hadn’t checked his family's flagship hotel first.

“You don't remember getting the same message from someone else?” you ask. “I was worried you wouldn't come, again.”

Again. Something tugs the memory up from the oubliette he'd locked it into, Mona teasing him about sleeping in and missing their appointment.

Mona. 

His stomach falls, checking back behind him at the door as if that particular ghost will return to haunt him.

“She's not here. I wasn't trying to set you up,” you say, recognizing the dismay he can't hide. “Honestly. And I know whatever closure you find is yours and yours alone. You were right about that, too, I'm sorry.”

You twist your hands in front of you, suddenly overwhelmed with anxiety. “I did this for me. Because I wanted to know what she tried to tell you, even if she couldn't say it aloud.”

You don't look at him, can't in order to continue. Doyoung feels like a live wire, exposed, two months of painful loneliness and a lifetime's worth of avoidance of this fact all surging through him in this moment. 

As much as he would prefer to leave he's not going to run like he did back then, when he'd ignored the hard parts to pretend like a friendship wasn't something more. Not with the stakes of losing this one.

“You once told me you were just friends, even if you couldn't be one anymore for her after you realized you loved her. How it broke you to be with someone you couldn't be with, who wanted something different.”

“Now you know. She didn't want to stay one, either,” you say. You look up at him nervously, regaining your confidence.

“I just wanted you to know that you were loved, Kim Doyoung. You still are.” 

You turn away towards the door, pretending not to have seen the tears dripping down his face under his glasses. He ignores them, too, not knowing what to say or do to make sure you never leave him again.

The spot never mattered to him, the word and it's confession forgotten in time. What changed that day was having you in front of him after so long, the way you were a reflection of him so many years ago, fighting to be by the side of someone who didn't know how to love you back, the right way.

He'd promised himself than that even if he couldn't say it, he'd show you.

“Thank you for coming. I'm sorry for interfering with your life, but that’s what friends do.”

You'd almost made it to the stairs when he'd wrapped around you from behind, the first ever time he'd held you in an embrace, unsurprised to find you shaking like a leaf as he rested a wet cheek against your hair. 

“I'm sorry,” he says. “Thank you.” 

You relax a little, squeezing his hand. In that small gesture everything is reset, everything is okay again. They won't talk about this for the next few years, even when Jungwoo asks how you'd come back into their lives so suddenly and without any indication that things had changed.

But they had. Deeply. 

“You can make it up to me by buying me breakfast,” you say, smiling up at him, wiping his cheek with your sleeve. “We have a lot to catch up on.” 

“Did I win?” you ask. 

Doyoung can only laugh, giddy, as you burrow into his side to smother him in kisses and teasing. You were put on this earth to challenge him, after all–always right there to match him in stubbornness and competition.

He presses his nose to your neck, inhaling the remnants of the scent you'd made together, one bottle for each, though you didn't have to know his formula was just a bit different.

“‘Tomorrow Morning’ has a nice ring to it, I suppose. It lingers well.”

“It was my answer, actually. I needed to see if I could break Saint Kim's vow of romantic abstinence before I made up my mind,” you say, smug as you move to get up. “Glad you were able to find out before your time was–”

You shriek as he pulls you down again, pinning you to the bed. 

“I still have a few hours,” he says, voice dangerous. “I'd like to hear you say it again.”

[rebelspykatie]

While you all wait for the anticipated first date, here’s an alternate ending that I wrote before deciding to take this story in a different direction. This is in reference to my Soulmate AU you can find here. 

Soulmate AU Alternate Ending

They dance around each other for the rest of the year, and Steve quietly graduates, still never having spoken a word to Eddie. That is, until Steve’s father forces him to get a job over the summer.  

When Eddie wanders into Scoops one slow evening, he comes to a halt in front of Steve, looking between him and Robin with wild eyes, like a deer staring down the barrel of a hunters gun.

Robin is watching them, fascinated and a little intrigued by the absolute silence that they seem to be trapped in.

“You gonna order something, Munson?”

Eddie barely looks like he heard her, not looking away from Steve, but he mumbles out an order for one vanilla cone. Robin works around Steve, who is unmoving from his spot leaning against the counter, scooping up vanilla into a cone and holding it out over the freezer.

Eddie finally snaps out of it and goes to pay, which makes Steve realize how he was frozen in place, just watching Eddie. Steve shoves Robin aside and moves to take Eddie’s money. When their hands meet, you can almost see the electricity that passes between them, both pulling their hands back like they’ve been shocked.

“Enjoy your ice cream,” Steve says, looking at Eddie from under thick lashes and fiddling with the cuff on his wrist covering up Eddie’s name. He’s never been close enough to see the dark red stain of Steve’s lips but now it’s all he can focus on.

He can’t work up the courage to say anything back, just nods and takes his cone to a corner booth. It’s conveniently placed where he can see Robin and Steve working, the later routinely glancing in Eddie’s direction while he licks away at the cone, cheeks a faint pink color Eddie’s pretty sure he’s imagining.

Eddie wandered into Scoops close to closing, the regular mass of people dwindling down to just a few stragglers and mall employees. So it’s easy to pick up on the whispered conversation Robin and Steve are having behind the register.

Steve’s cleaning the counters and Robin is refilling the dispensers of spoons and napkins, but they’re arguing. Something about giving it a shot and what harm can it do. Robin receives a lot of bitchy little sneers that almost make Eddie laugh from his vantage point.

He almost chokes on his tongue when they stop arguing and Robin shoves Steve out from behind the counter with a bottle of cleaning spray and a rag. Eddie watches Steve make the rounds, cleaning the few tables that sat between him and the register, before he hesitantly shuffles over to Eddie’s table.

Who knew that Harrington could rock a dumb sailor uniform this well. If Eddie didn’t already have his name on his wrist, he’d scratch out whoever was there and get Steve’s name tattooed in its place from this look alone. No one can ever find out how hot he finds this getup. He’d never live it down.

“Hey sailor,” Eddie says, immediately wanting to slam his forehead onto the table and concuss himself, or maybe crawl under it and die there.

Steve freezes. And now Eddie can see that he was right. The pink color of his cheeks was very real and even cuter up close.

“You and your first mate done arguing?”

“You heard all that?”

“It’s not that big of a store, captain.”

Steve rubs at the back of his neck. “Sorry. She just thinks I’m being stupid.”

“About what? Is the USS Butterscotch sinking?”

A quiet huff of laughter escapes Steve. “You, actually.”

Eddie’s head whips back. “Me?”

Steve nods. He takes a step closer and gestures at the seat opposite Eddie, silently asking to sit. Eddie waves an inviting arm for him to join him.

Steve clears his throat, twisting the rag in his hand, looking down at the table. “She knows what’s on my arm. She’s the only person I’ve told. But she doesn’t understand why I haven’t talked to you, called me a dingus.”

“She brings up a good point. Why haven’t you talked to me?”

“I could ask you the same thing. You’ve known about this longer than I have. But I guess I was just scared,” Steve shrugs. “I’m no catch these days.”

Eddie reaches out and pushes a loose strand of hair out of Steve’s face, who finally looks up and locks eyes with Eddie. “Pretty sure the universe thinks you’re the exact right catch for me.”

They just stare at each other for a minute. Eddie’s never been good with silence, but he feels an odd sense of calm around Steve, like his presence is what Eddie was waiting for, and they barely even know each other.

“You would want that? To try being together?” Eddie nods. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“You’re practically Hawkins royalty, Steve. I thought I was unworthy of even being in your presence, let alone being your soulmate. Our names showing up on each other’s arms is the most shocking thing that’s ever happened to me. I guess I just needed some time to process it.”

“And now?” He says it with this hopeful, shiny look in his eyes, still a bit cautious.

“I think I’m done processing. I’ve totally gotten over the whole jock thing-“

“Hey!”

“I’ve moved on because I think I can really get into this whole vibe,” he tugs gently on the red ascot of Steve’s uniform. “Never would’ve thought sailors were my thing, but you’re really making this work for me.”

A cackle carries across the shop and they both startle as if they forgot anyone else was here. Robin’s laughing as she goes through the register to close it out for the night, eyeing them and shaking her head.

“No one needs to know about your weird kinks, Munson.”

He flips her off. “Leave me and my soulmate alone, Buckley.”

A sharp intake of breath draws his gaze back to Steve. That hopeful look has turned to one of pure adoration. “Your soulmate,” he whispers.

Eddie pulls Steve a little closer and whispers in confirmation, “My soulmate.”

[ataraxiaspainting]

Sweet Hibiscus Tea.

Yan Shalnark x F Reader.

Synopsis: After a day of finally trying to face your social anxiety, you walk home alone. The roads are empty, quiet, and eerie. But you are almost home now, aren’t you? You are not going to cry anymore. Just when you think life is starting to turn around for you, it goes in the exact opposite direction. 

Warnings: Yandere themes, violence, kidnapping, misogyny, not SFW implications, psychological horror elements, manipulation, panic attacks, Shalnark being an asshole, unhealthy relationships, and stalking.

Word Count: 5k.

Can be considered to be within the Hier Encore universe.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Look Who’s Inside Again by Bo Burnham

Things She Said by Chris Garneau

Baby Bride Rag by Roar

Butch 4 Butch by Rio Romeo

Appetite of a People-Pleaser by Ghost and Pals

Valentine, Texas by Mitski

I’m Yer Dad by GRLwood

Cry Baby by Melanie Martinez

Freaks by Surf Curse

Neighbour by Mother Mother

“You stay soft, you get beaten; only natural to harden up.” — Mitski, Stay Soft

*~*~*~*

Regardless of how much time has passed, this convenience store always remains the same.

There is always the familiar, tired face of the clerk behind the cash register, her gaze never on you or any other customer who walks in and out of the doors, a simple, muted hello being the only proof that she noticed you.

The lights dim and blink without fail, fading from white to a shade of daffodil to dark flaxen before disappearing and resurfacing yet again as alabaster. No matter how black the night sky is, the less-than-bright illumination never changes.

Neither does the rest of the scenery.

Next to the payment area are two vending machines, with one not functioning. It is dead, with the glass broken by a punch that left a large gaping hole in the dead center. Once when you accidentally touched the front wall while bending down to get your can of lemonade from the working one, it left a sticky residue that had you rubbing your palm on your sweater for what felt like an eternity. It somewhat helped, you guessed, but it also stained your clothes. The vending machine to its right was always out of most sweet drinks, often leaving you with the choice of coffee, lemonade, green tea, or water.

You don’t buy any snacks aside from strawberry Pocky and, if you are lucky, a chocolate bar.

But you do buy meals here because it is cheap. Usually fish with miso or a salad, but there have been times when you can find a premade sandwich.

The total cost comes to between 500 to 1000 Jenny. There is always a poster that claims the cashier is the employee of the month, though you are certain that she is the only one who works there.

The only thing that ever changes is the calendar behind her. The past dates are crossed out in red ink that is in the form of thick, scraggly lines. They remind you of the drawings you used to make as a child when your father was too busy screaming outside your door and your mother was too powerless to do anything but cry and yelp as he hit her. One time you drew them fighting, and when one of your maids saw it, it inevitably found its way to his desk.

Needless to say, he was not happy by any means.

*~*~*~*

The calendar behind the worker reads the 17th of April, 1998. On this day in 1985, your first and only ever friend, the head gardener’s apprentice, went missing. When you eventually gathered up the courage after waiting for hours outside, you went to your father’s room to ask where she was.

“She has been removed from the premises for distracting you instead of doing her job.” The answer you got was to the point, because when has he ever been warm to you? “I made sure that she had learned her lesson before she died. She was in pain the whole time. It was a shame to put a bullet between her pretty eyes. But at least she had a bit more use to me beforehand.”

You cried and cried until you threw up.

That is when your mother, the usual bandage over her left cheek this time, came in and sat on your bed gently, sadly.

She patted the area next to her and slowly you stood up from the floor where you kneeled as you sobbed and went over. She asked you if you wanted a hug and you said no. She responded with a simple nod, respecting your answer. But then what she said next turned your tear-stricken face into a glare.

“She’s alive.” She muttered, along with thanks to God and a hold of the cross on her neck. 

“...What?”

Your mother shushed you when she heard footsteps coming to the door. When the sound eventually leaves further into the hallway, she leans into your ear while pointing to your vanity. Your gaze leads you to the dusty cat statue made of garnet.

It got shattered a little while ago when a maid cleaning your room accidentally made it fall to the floor. You felt bad for her as she was a new hire, so you never told anyone aside from your mother. You knew that if your father, the head of this household, ever found out he would punish her severely, even when he did not care for the statue at all. You got to choose, if you were lucky, which part gets whipped or cut off.

“Yes.”

Her short answer leaves you almost jumping up out of your seat. “...Huh?”

“At last week’s banquet, she caught the attention of your father’s wealthiest business partner.” She turns to the curtains covering the lone window in your room, her back now facing you. “She was tricked into boarding a car when the driver claimed you were inside waiting for her. To the partner in question, she is nothing but another pretty face to add to his collection.”

At the slight turn of the doorknob next door, you two go as still as wax people in a museum. “Why did he lie to me?”

“Why? Well, he certainly did not want you rebelling against his decision.”

“But I have never rebelled against him before.”

“I know.” Your mother lets out a sharp laugh, salty and sour. “I know you are always trying to be good, trying to stay under the radar. I know, I know because you are a lot like me. but now I am going to teach you a lesson about your father and the world at large. Remember that a man’s resentful attitude will always result in a woman’s agony, physical or otherwise, always. However, when things go right for a man, a woman is either praised like a dog or ignored until something goes wrong because it is never enough.”

You can’t breathe. “But why? Why, why, why? What did I do wrong? What could I have done right?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing. There is nothing you can do or could have done. No matter what, your faults will always be found. That is how most men are raised, to find, and how most women are raised, to hide.”

“...”

“Men’s hearts are such cruel, small things. Oftentimes they can only fit themselves in them, but there have been times where even they cannot fit.” She is still holding onto the cross charm on her gold necklace, firmer than she has ever held you. “They are cold, are or are almost dead. There is no room for people like you and me. No room at all. All they see us as is something to own, something with no feelings whatsoever, and whose only purpose is to please no matter the cost. Such pigs, all of them.” She murmurs some prayers that you cannot hear. “I want you to be better. I want what is best for you, what I never have been able to accomplish; run and live.”

She opens the drawer beside your bed, and you don’t do anything to stop her. It is not like you can hide anything, from her or anyone else in this house. Whatever is buried eventually resurfaces. She pulls out your rarely used bible, a thick layer of dust on the leather cover. It smells and makes you cough. She doesn’t though.

“At least your father does not force you to read this day and night.”

“Mmhmm.”

“It is one of the few things I appreciate him not doing, I do not want you to grow up hating the church.”

“I know.”

“He has made you hate a lot of things already.”

She turns the pages, dust flying around the cold air.

“He made me hate a lot of things too. Blankets, steaks, cameras. The color white, the color black, the color red. The sounds of belts unbuckling, the sound of laughter, the sounds of doors opening and closing and locking.”

You don’t say anything, only looking at her hands. Only in the dark can you not see her scars, her blooming wrinkles, and the bruises that are always fresh. 

You don’t say anything, because you have learned from a very young age that you are her only listening ear. You are the only one who keeps her head on her shoulders. You don’t say anything, because she is right. He has made you hate plenty of things. But, but, but. But you can’t hate him, and you can’t hate your mother.

You can’t hate her, because who knows what she would do when she finds out that no one cares about her pain in this hell?

“Mother.” You mutter, putting your head on her shoulder as you scan the text on the page that she selected. She does not stop you. 

“Yes, [First]?”

“Do you hate me?” You ask, trying so very hard to not let her see the tears that threaten to come out of your eyes. “Because… because… if I wasn’t conceived, you wouldn’t be here hurting, would you?”

You could swear that you heard her heart skip a beat.

“...I would not be here, yes.”

She is honest, for once. You know at least some of this situation is all your fault.

“Do you hate me?”

“...”

“Mother, please answer me.”

You hear a sniffle as she starts mumbling the words written. “‘A gracious woman gets honor, and violent men get riches.’”

You choose not to press on the subject. You don’t want her to suffer anymore.

*~*~*~*

You buy an orange-flavored Ramune soda, a pack of pork ginger instant ramen, and strawberry Pocky.

The total would come to about 600 Jenny if your quick calculations are right. You could get something extra, like a topping for your ramen or some chips. But would it be wise? You have never been someone who finishes their plate after you had ran away, so what if you just waste your money?

So, you decide not to get anything else.

You walk to the cash register.

You hear an explosion from the back of the building. Small sparks of white and orange. The lights go off before you can place your chosen items down, and you can hear the employee cursing under her breath. The breaker. What happened?

“Damn it, I don’t get paid enough for this shit.” She grumbles, putting her thumb and pointer finger on the bridge of her nose, rubbing. “No raises whatsoever. Only one here. Without me, this place wouldn’t be working, ungrateful pricks.”

Fighting the way your heart rate shoots up, you decide that talking to her would be best. It wouldn’t hurt to talk to someone aside from your boss, right? 

Maybe your anxieties would quell, and you can eventually graduate to talking to your co-workers, that would be a dream come true for you.

You haven’t had a friend, a real friend, ever since Rose was taken from you all those years ago. You still cry whenever you think about her. You miss her. Is she dead, is she alive?

You still blame yourself. If only you hadn’t talked to her, maybe she would still be with you. What kind of adult would she have been? A kind one, a responsible one? You would still be friends at least, wouldn’t you? Or would she grow to hate you, if she didn’t already?

You keep telling yourself that she wouldn’t and didn’t, but that is not what your mind tells you.

Is she dead?

You could picture a rotting corpse six feet under. An unmarked grave. Glassy, dead, amber eyes looking upward to anyone who looks down, helpless, pleading. You always liked them, always complimenting them much to Rose’s shy chuckles. She was so pretty, that much was true. You could only imagine how beautiful she would have been as an adult.

Her looks were a personal gift from God, the heavens, and the angels.

But if she didn’t have them, would she not have been treated like she was in the estate?

“Erm, excuse me,” You mutter, taking a few steps forward. “If you want I can go check it out.”

It is what Rose would do. She always liked helping others. You just wish that people would have appreciated it more and seen past her appearance. It was a double-edged sword. It helped her become the head gardener’s apprentice but also caught the attention of both your father and his business partners. You felt bad for her, and still do.

The employee turns around, her confusion prominent despite the dark. 

“Erm,” You mutter, looking down at your hands and entangling your fingers in one another. You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks in embarrassment. “Is that okay?”

It takes a few moments to respond. Her surprise was unexpected, as you never spoke to her outside of asking her if she had change or telling her you hoped that she had a good night. Rose would be better at this kind of thing. You once had a dream that at a fast food joint, an adult her would order for you and correct the staff when they put pickles on your burger. It’s what could have been, funny moments like that. She had always been the one to take charge, you following her like a lost puppy.

You miss her so much.

So much.

The worker slowly nods. “...Okay.”

“...It’s in the back, right? The breaker.”

This is so awkward. Rose would be better. You wish she was here. Or your mother. Anyone.

“...Uh. Um… I like your eyeliner.” As soon as you say that, you curse at yourself, not wanting to sound like a creep. The woman’s confusion becomes even more prominent.

“...Thanks, and yeah, it’s in the back.”

“...Okay.” Jesus Christ. You turn away from her, the heat on your cheeks hot enough to be mistaken for a fever. This is not what Rose would have done.

“...You can leave your stuff here.” She says, and you quickly spin your heel and put your items on the counter. “It’s not like they are going to grow legs and run off, so relax.”

“...” You both chuckle, and you feel slightly better. “...Thanks. I’ll go now.”

“...” You start walking. “Wrong way.”

You stop.

It takes you a few seconds for you to move back to first base and go off in the opposite direction. As soon as you open the creaky steel door, strong rain and cold wind greet you, along with a loud clap of thunder and lightning.

Perhaps you could go back and get your umbrella from the stand by the door. But that would be even more awkward.

“Stupid. Stupid.”

“If we are lucky, the wind simply detached it or something. Not the best at this sort of thing, though.”

“I don’t think breakers detach.” You could picture her shrugging and scoffing at your murmur. “Sorry. Sorry. Just… sorry. I’m the best at this sort of thing either.”

You close the door behind you and start looking amongst the pitter-patter of the raindrops and gusts that nearly make you fall over. 

Stupid. Why do you make everything so weird? Rose would have been so much more charismatic. It was one of her strongest traits after all.

Stupid.

It’s hard to see. Trying not to trip over stones and cracked cement, you grip onto the wall and walk forward. Soon, you feel something.

“Ew, ew, ew!” You cry out, quickly moving your hand away from the slimy slug. “Ew!”

“You okay?”

“Uh, nothing. Just a bug. Yeah, just a bug.”

You hear a chuckle. Stupid.

“Sorry!” You exclaim, almost bowing your head. “Sorry! Really!”

Making sure you don’t touch the slug again, you keep moving.

Eventually, you find the breaker. But it wasn’t what you were expecting by any means. The damage almost looks like it was done on purpose, the way it was open and covered in soot. Did something get to it?

The breaker that exploded was a mass of melted metal that had been blown apart from the intense amount of heat and pressure. It was now barely recognizable as a single unit–parts of it scattered across the cement path and others having been fused and becoming something else entirely. The metal had been melted and blown upwards in the sheer force of the explosion, coating parts of the wall, wet grass, and roof with small, solidified droplets of metal. The ground around the remains of the breaker is burnt and scarred with traces of the immense fire that had consumed it.

It seems the rain put it out.

“No hope for this, huh?”

“Hey,” The employee calls out. “How bad is it? If there is nothing you can do, come back inside.”

So, you do.

The way she turns at you is robotic almost. A smile is on her face that was not there before. She nods when she sees you. Something tells you to not approach.

“It exploded into molten metal.”

“Oh well.”

Under the stormy skies, her gaze turns pale. Her eyes, seemingly captivating, lack any hint of vitality, while her lips curve in a disarming and saccharine manner. A shiver runs down your spine as you meet her gaze, every fiber of your being urging you to flee. Deep within your primal instincts, an innate awareness stirs, recognizing the smile as a charade, a mask of humanity that ventures into the realm of unease: akin to an artificial being adorned with synthetic flesh or a wax figure encased in glass. Those lifeless, white eyes, coupled with a forked tongue and an unsettlingly beautiful countenance, leave you with an undeniable sense of mistrust.

“You’re not mad? Really? Um…”

Something is off. What happened? She looks more like an imposter than anything else. But if she is, where did the real cashier go?

“Don’t worry.” She says, her voice oddly chipper and no longer confused by your awkwardness. “It’s fine. I’m quitting anyway, so it’ll be my boss’ problem.”

You turn your head. “Really?”

She nods. Something is off.

“Like really?”

You blink multiple times and you don’t think she does. She just stands there. Slowly, she nods. Something tells you to run yet again.

“Um… um… okay. Okay. I’ll just pay and leave. How much does it come up to?”

She shakes her head.

“Um. I have to pay. It’s thievery if I don’t.” You get closer. “It’s the law.”

“It’s fine.”

“I can’t just not pay.” You say, taking out your wallet from your sweater pocket. “That’s stealing. It’s wrong.”

Every action she takes is measured and precise, and she seems to move like a machine rather than a person. It’s as if she’s been programmed to act and talk in a certain way, and she doesn’t seem to have the ability to break out of that. She simply stares at you, not speaking.

Run.

You undo the metallic button, hearing the shuffling of paper Jenny within your wallet. “Um. Let me pay. Please.”

She simply shakes her head again.

“It’s fine.” The employee says, the smile still plastered on her face. There is quite more than a hint of blankness and detachment in her expression. She speaks in a mechanical and emotionless manner, her words delivered as though repeated from a script of carefully chosen sentences. Her movements are quick and precise, putting your chosen items in a plastic bag. There is no life or energy in her actions, instead, she moves like a mindless machine, performing her tasks before her without showing any personality of her own. Is it better to just accept it?

What should you do? What shouldn’t you do? Is she joking? Should you leave?

What would Rose do?

One of her hands grasps onto the plastic handles and she holds it out before you. There is no authenticity or warmth. Her eyes are blank. What happened? Should you ask? Should you just take the bag without saying anything further?

“Okay,” You murmur, obeying her silent command. “I hope you don’t get into any trouble though.”

*~*~*~*

Boss (9th May 1996 17:45)

Did you find anything?

Boss (9th May 1996 17:45)

Feitan found her heels nearby along with some blood, so she couldn’t have gotten very far.

You (9th May 1996 17:45)

Nothing yet

Boss (9th May 1996 17:47)

Try checking the stores nearby.

Boss (9th May 1996 17:47)

From the blood trail, she is most likely injured from running and trying to fix herself up in some sort of shelter.

Boss (9th May 1996 17:48)

She may have also discarded the rest of her clothes, not just the heels, and is currently wearing something else.

You (9th May 1996 18:15)

I found a dress and jewelry at the bottom of a lake

You (9th May 1996 18:18)

(image sent)

Boss (9th May 1996 18:20)

That’s it.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:20)

Disappointing. I’ll send over Pakunoda to ask people nearby.

You (9th May 1996 18:20)

K

You (9th May 1996 18:21)

Don’t cry, I’m sure we’ll find her soon :) 

Boss (9th May 1996 18:22)

I wasn’t crying.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:22)

I just thought she came around already.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:23)

This will set our heists back weeks.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:24)

She has planned this out for more than a year, it seems.

*~*~*~*

Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. You can’t hear anything else. The sounds sting your ears like an aggravated hornet. 

The darkness around you is solid, more so than the cracked, aged concrete path beneath your shoes. There is a tiny light in the distance; a streetlamp.

Silence.

“...”

“Have a good day!”

“...Thank you.”

Let there be light.

“Um…” You can’t see anything. The sounds… stopped. “...Time to go home.”

But the pain stays. 

It feels like a drill. 

It hurts.

“...” You feel deaf and blind. No, maybe something even worse. “...”

You turn around, to the dark convenience store, and you see the cashier still staring at you. “Have a good day!”

“...”

“[First]?”

…How does she know your name? Did you say it to her in the past?

When you look into the abyss, the abyss also looks into you.

“[First], dear.” She starts waving as you look at her. “[First]. [First]. [First]. [First]. [First]!”

There is nothing but emptiness. Is your name all she can say? What happened to her? It is like she has regressed. Like a storm cloud in summer, you do not wish for this pain. Now you feel deaf and blind and mute now. 

You almost wish that you were dead. All there is is pain. Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. 

Interruption. The sounds returned. Is this good? Is this bad? Does it matter at all? 

You walk. You don’t speak. Only walk. You can’t breathe. You can only move. Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. 

Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. 

A hand clamps over your mouth.

You drop the plastic bag from shock, and then you finally hear something other than those sounds; glass shattering.

“Sh…” A voice, calm, along with the smell of oranges. “It’s okay.”

“...!”

“Don’t scream.”

The touch of lips, a man’s lips, on your ear, thin and hard. 

“Breathe. Just breathe for me, okay?”

But you can’t. The wind goes down your throat. It is suffocating. You can’t breathe. You smell oranges and something rotting, blood.

It stinks. It fucking stinks.

Christ. Get away. That stink. That fucking stink. Your body rejects it by continuing to not breathe.

“Sh… Breathe. Just breathe, for me, for you, for us.”

“...St… Sto-”

“Sh…” The voice is sweet, not at all sour, like candy. “Calm down. Nothing bad is going to happen. Just breathe. You’re going to pass out.” The lips and the scent of his breath are like salted leather in a butcher’s shop, stinky and rotting. “Calm down. Don’t worry.”

“...Sto… Si-”

“Breathe. Sh… It’s okay. Breathe.”

“...Ge… Sti…”

“Sh… Breathe. Breathe, [First]. Breathe. [First]. Breathe. Breathe. It’s okay. Don’t worry about all this. Breathe.”

When you finally do, you gasp, desperate. “...Huff… Huff… Huff…”

Get off of me, I can smell you. 

“There we go!”

Your vision clears up a bit. “...Huff… Huff… Huff…”

“Just keep breathing.”

“...Huff…”

You can smell him. You can practically taste him, with his mouth so close to you.

“Whew! That was a close one!” The man exclaimed, wrapping his other arm around your waist.

Pain. Get off of me. I can smell you, I can hear you, I can taste you. Get off of me. Please.

The pain still stays, in your chest and your ears, and your head. Oranges. Blood.

Get off of me.

Please–

A pain in the back of your neck and you go limp.

Darkness. Then pain again. You can’t move. You can only breathe. Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. 

*~*~*~*

SAINTSHORE SPACE THEATRE

UNDER THE DIRECTION OF RANDOLF URASLEF, GRETEL JAMES, AND QUINCEY J. ORATICE

PAUL DONSHEL CELESTE BAKER   ANNE CROAKS

AND

THE GREAT COMET THEATRE COMPANY

SWAN LAKE

ADAPTED BY MUSIC WRITTEN BY PYOTR ILLYICH TCHAIKOVSKY

INSPIRED BY THE CHOREOGRAPHY OF JULIUS REISINGER

WITH THE WONDERFUL CAST OF

(IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE)

Odette, the White Swan………………………………………………………….JEAN YVETTE

Odile, the Black Swan……………………………………………………………...JUNO LILOU

Prince Siegfried……………………………………………………………(the name is illegible.)

The rest of the list’s names cannot be read just like Prince Siegfried.

“She is simply beautiful. Just so beautiful. Simply wonderful, perfect.”

As the spotlights ignite, their scorching beams engulf you, causing you to shield your eyes with futile resistance. The sheer force of the light overwhelms your feeble defense. An ethereal audience erupts with exuberant cheers, applause, and whistles, resonating from vacant seats. Champagne flutes collide, men erupt with hearty laughter from their very core, and women unleash piercing screams akin to banshees.

The temperature rises and the noise intensifies, repeatedly, enveloping you in a symphony of overwhelming sensations.

Onlookers casually share their thoughts.

“Get off the stage, we want to see the play, not some stagehand!”

“Boo!”

“Fuck off!”

You run off crying.

“Where is that Odile girl?”

You run into a dressing room. One used by a woman wearing a black dress. She is so pretty. Her long strawberry blonde hair falls off her bare shoulders, clearly just done with a flat iron. There is a burning smell in the air. Smoke. When her gold eyes meet yours, she marches towards you and slams the door shut.

You can almost hear sobbing coming from the other side. Cries.

“So lonely…” The woman mutters. “When will it ever be enough?”

The voice sounds familiar. Her eyes. Her hair.

Nostalgia. Memories you would much rather forget. The basement. The imaginary ripping of clothes and tears and men’s laughter.

“I can’t do this much longer…”

Someone else knocks on her door. You want to scream.

“Come out, dearest.”

The devil. Tall with curved horns and a forked tongue. You want to warn her. 

You want to save her. “I’m not going to harm you, I am going to make you happy.”

You are so focused on whether the woman opens the door or not that you do not notice what happens next until it is too late. A clawed hand on your mouth. A tongue licking your ear. Tasting your sweat. Your tears. Laughter. The rest of the world disappears, and the only one there aside from you is the one behind you.

Sh… Sh… Sh… Sh… Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. 

Get off of me. Please.

“Breathe. It makes things more fun for me.” The voice echoed like you two are in a cave.

You gasp for air, and the smell of blood and oranges fills your nostrils.

“...Huff…”

“That’s better.”

You turn around. There is a body of a man. 

But the scaled, furred, horrifying face of a demon.

“Good.” He says, smiling his sharp teeth. “Deep breaths, in and out, come on.”

You do what he says. He praises you again, you think. But you can’t hear it. Either that or you simply do not pay attention to it. What happened to the woman? 

“...”

“We should go.”

The woman. The devil, this other… thing.

“...Rose…”

The demon laughs.

“Wake up.”

*~*~*~*

The first things you hear come from a happy man’s voice. “My boss’ girlfriend ran away more than a year ago you see, and he’s been heartbroken ever since. I want to prevent that kind of loss from happening to me. Real pretty one, too! He didn’t expect it, but I don’t blame her. After all, she’s been held captive for more than a year, she had to try to escape eventually.”

…The first thing you feel is lace on your neck. A collar.

It does not tickle or hurt. It itches. 

A cold hand plays with it, and it almost chokes you. At your discomfort, the man laughs.

“You are so cute.”

Something metal is on the collar, and it blinks a small red light.

[luvreyn]

DAD

GOJO X READER + READER & MEGUMI & TSUMIKI

Satoru sure is taking his time buying the missing ingredients for your dinner. On the living room couch, Megumi is looking at his textbooks quietly while you and Tsumiki entertain yourselves by solving her advanced math assignments.

You would’ve helped Megumi too, but he’s been avoiding you, and you figured he didn’t want his former teacher getting into his business, so you refrained.

"That’s great, Tsumiki!" You praised "Great work!"

She beamed.  "Thank you for helping me!"

"You’re welcome!" Then you turned the page to solve the last problem. "What about this?"

"Please don’t."

You turned to the voice only to jump in surprise when you saw that it was Megumi who approached you. Tsumiki hopped off the high chair, as if she knew what was on Megumi’s mind.

"Please don’t-"

"Megu-" Tsumiki tried to stop him, but Megumi shakes his head.

His fisted fingers are holding onto his shirt tightly.

Please don’t? What?  The confusion must be evident in your face.

Megumi swallowed hard. "Please don’t take my dad. Please don’t take my dad away."

"Megumi," Tsumiki said, arms going around Megumi’s shaking shoulders.

Oh. You swallowed, and your throat feels tight looking at them. You know he’s a kid, but he’s never acted like one. It surprises and hurts you that you didn’t think about how he’d feel knowing that his former teacher and guardian are dating. No, not their guardian, Satoru is their Dad.

They’re still so young; they shouldn’t be feeling this way.

But they do, your mind whispers. You know why they feel this way.

"Megumi, Tsumiki..." you started, and Tsumiki looks up at you, worry and fear in her eyes, but Megumi is still bowing his head. You held their hands gently. You kneeled so they could see your eyes properly. "Listen to me, okay?"

"I won’t take your Dad," you promised, Megumi looks at you in surprise and relief. "But can I have Satoru?"

Tsumiki and Megumi looked at one another before they nodded, "Okay," their tone soft, small.

"Thank you."

You opened your arms to them, and your heart felt so full when they ran to hug you. It’s only when they both rested their heads on your shoulders that you felt tears.

They must’ve been so scared. You blame your thoughtlessness. You should've been more careful; you should've assured them properly.

"There, there," you say, patting their backs in what you hope is a comforting manner. "Your Dad loves you, okay? It’s not going to change just because I’m in the picture."

Megumi nodded, sniffing, while Tsumiki cried harder, and you had the urge to smack the people who caused him and Tsumiki pain—the ones responsible for putting that kind of expression on their young faces.

So you carried them both gently, and their arms are around you for stability while they lay their heads on your shoulders. You sway gently while muttering words of assurance and love to the kids you've grown to love.

Behind the wall, Satoru smiles while listening to your voice comforting his kids. You must’ve been so worried that you didn’t notice that he'd been gone for so long for someone who just went to the nearby convenience store, and it didn’t dawn on you that Megumi called him Dad.

In truth, he didn't expect that Megumi would consider him his Dad, much less call him that way. He's always thought that Megumi just tolerated his presence, but he should’ve known better than to doubt Megumi. That boy knows how to mask his real feelings well, partly because he’s a Zenin and partly because of a Zenin. No, Toji Fushiguro didn’t want to be a Zenin.

Still, he hoped that Toji knew how much the kids he abandoned suffered because of his neglect. He hopes Toji regretted his decision and loss.

Satoru shakes his head. It doesn’t matter now. It doesn’t matter that Toji abandoned them; it doesn’t matter that he’s facing resistance and pressure from the Zenins by having the sole inheritor of their clan technique in his care; and it doesn’t matter that he’s still too young to be a proper father because he is their Dad and he will protect them or die trying. Most of all, he knows you have his and the kids backs through it all.

Please don’t take my Dad

Tsumiki and Megumi are not his by blood, but they’re his. His to protect, to care for, and to love.

"Your Dad loves you. Satoru loves you both so much."

Satoru closes his eyes and relaxed.

might be full of inconsistency and error cuz i wrote this in a rush. jjk 219 leak got me like this i need to write a not angst story for my soul and sanity TT___TT

[topperscumslut]

My Idiot (Jay Kelso x Reader)

Summary: Reader is Hyde’s daughter and staying with the Formans while he’s in jail, the new generation has a sleepover at the Forman’s house and there’s only one bed for Jay and (Y/N)… Note: Jaya (JayxLeia) does not exist in this imagine

Word count: 1k

“Okay you guys,” Leia said with a deep breath, “Grandma and grandpa actually said you guys can stay the night, so we can’t screw this up. I’m staying in my dad’s old room and (Y/N) is staying in Aunt Laurie’s old room, as usual. Can you guys all find somewhere to sleep in the basement?”

“Sounds good to me,” Ozzie popped up.

“Nikki and I can take the couch,” Nate said.

“Yeah, that should work,” Gwen added, “it just sucks that Jay isn’t here.”

You nodded half heartedly. Your best friend - and crush - Jay Kelso was working a long night shift at the video store, and you were bummed that he was missing your first (and probably only, considering how Red Forman was) sleepover with the gang.

Almost like clockwork, the basement door opened.

“Hey guys!” A familiar voice spoke up. Jay’s voice. “They let me off early,” he said as his eyes briefly floated to where you were sitting on the floor, then shyly finding their way back to the rest of the group.

“Well shit,” Leia sighed, “I mean, we’re glad you’re here! But Red let us have a sleepover for once, and I don’t think there will be enough room in the basement for you…”

“Well that’s not convenient,” Jay said with a flat face, sheepishly sitting down next to you.

“Hold on you guys, I’ll be right back. I don’t imagine in a thousand years my grandpa would let you stay in my room, but I have a couch and (Y/N) doesn’t, and I don’t want to make her offer her bed to you if she isn’t okay with it.”

You shifted awkwardly, silently hoping you could share your bed with Jay. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind if we have to…” you trailed on quietly, Jay looking at you shyly, his cheeks noticeably heating up.

The rest of the group hadn’t heard you but Jay had sitting so close to you. “You sure?” he asked and you nodded, lacking the courage to look at him.

Leia ran upstairs and it only took a few seconds before you heard the booming sound of Red yelling.

“If that boy goes even close to your bedroom, my foot is going even closer to up his ass! Absolutely not!”

Leia hurried down the stairs with a defeated look on her face. “So that’s a no go. (Y/N), are you sure you’re ok with sharing a bed with Jay?”

You shrugged, now bright red. “Yeah, sure, I don’t mind.”

The seven of you spent the rest of the night together, laughing, watching My So Called Life, and getting high, before finally around midnight you all started to crash.

“Should we call it a night, you guys?” you asked through a yawn, anxious to spend the night with Jay.

“Sounds good to me.”

“Yep.”

“I’m tired.”

“Well, goodnight you guys,” Leia spoke, “see you all in the morning.” With that you, Leia, and Jay stumbled your way upstairs while the others stayed in the basement getting comfy.

You quickly brushed your teeth and got cleaned up for bed, putting on your favorite lacy nightgown, your heart beating out of your chest before you heard your name called from downstairs.

“Y/N! I need to talk to you!”

Shit. It was Red.

You made your way down the stairs, feigning sobriety, into the Forman living room.

“Yes Mr. Forman?”

“Sit down.”

“You know (Y/N), I remember your father sitting on this exact same couch when he was your age. He was a good kid, even with all the dope he did. He was nice to people.” Red sighed, “I remember that boy’s father too, and how he used to fool around with young girls like you, even my own daughter.”

“But Jay isn’t like-“

“I know, I know, that kid hardly knows his own father. But as you’ve been staying with Kitty and I, you’ve become like another grandkid to us. I always feared I’d be raising Steven’s kids…” he grumbled. “No funny business in there, okay? You’re better than to be screwing a Kelso. I know you think no one’s caught onto your little crush on this boy, but I’ve seen these things before. And if he so much as lays a finger on you, my foot will go so far up his ass he won’t even be able to feel his fingers!”

“We’ll be good,” you smiled, rolling your eyes. “Now goodnight.”

“Goodnight (Y/N).”

You hurried back up the stairs to find Jay already all cozied up in your bed.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

His eyes scanned your body in awe and he hid a smile as you made your way into bed.

You both squirmed awkwardly for a little while, not talking, not looking at each other, and especially not touching.

“I’m sorry (Y/N), I’ll try to let you sleep. I know you didn’t really want me in here…”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I could tell you were uncomfortable in the basement and just trying to be nice. I can sleep in the living room if you wa-“

You shut him up by kissing him, to his surprise. Jay closed his eyes and let himself melt into the kiss. It was slow and sweet, innocent, loving.

“Of course I want you here. I was nervous because I have a crush on you, doofus.”

“Well you could’ve just said that,” he laughed. “But, uh, I’m glad you didn’t. I have a crush on you too. Have for a while,” he smirked, kissing you again.

You laughed as the kiss ended, rubbing noses together. “Go to bed, idiot.”

He cuddled his way into you, pulling you in by your waist and spooning you, nuzzling his face into your neck. “I may be an idiot, but I’m your idiot.”

You smiled, cheeks turning a baby pink, still not sure if this was all really happening. “Yeah, Jay, you’re my idiot.”

[10underoot2]

I have a headcanon of BaekHong being this power couple even as they raise their daughter.

They're very hands on. The nanny, Mrs.Jang, is always available but she feels like it's the easiest gig she ever got. She's seen other rich families just birthing the child and giving it to the nanny to look after. They only feed or play with it when convenient but not Mr. Baek and Mrs.Baek. Soobin is the light of their existance. They both wouldn't be at peace until they saw her once back from work. Mrs.Baek would only go for a few hours, most of the time taking Soobin and the nanny with her. She never would have believed someone like Ms.Hong would find a way to conduct her meetings but still cradle her inconsolable child in her office. She had never imagined Mr. Baek would play with her in his office plain for all to see. She also hadn't imagined either of the parents' amusement when the 6 month old puked on designer bags and clothes. She had seen children resented and glared at for that. But not this rich couple. They loved their child like their life depended on it. Even when tired, overworked, frustrated they made time for their daughter always. Mrs.Jang often felt like the last resort. Moments when even she could see that the strain of work and life could no longer render them available to care for their child she took over for them. But even then these moments were scarce. She had heard months into her employment that the couple was actually against hiring her but had only agreed due to incessant requests of the child's maternal grandmother.

So when she was informed that the couple was throwing a big networking party for the Queens department store, she was sure this was her moment to shine. Because what rich couple feeds, changes, plays or cares about their child in the presence of 400+ highly influential people. Even if they both wanted to they wouldn't find the time.

But come day of the event, Haein was all dolled up looking magnificent beside Mr. Baek as they both laughed and dressed up their 6 month old baby. During the party, Soobin went from welcoming guests in her Armani clad suit father's arms. To discussing complex legal matters and networking with him still viewing the world from the high vantage point her father's height afforded her. Smiles representative of only pure joy, adored Hyunwoo and Hae-in's face each time they talked, interacted or received a smile from Baby Soobin.

At long last Soobin urged her father to put her to sleep in his arms where he kept her for half an hour before parting with her achingly in Mrs.Jang's care. When she woke up hours later fussing, he was there before the nanny could try to appease her. She had seen him excuse himself as soon as politely possible as Soobin continued to cry. He stood there, fully dressed trying to appease her a while before he went to his wife who was deep in conversation trying to recruit brands for her store. Mrs. Jang knew it was an important event for Mrs. Baek, so she expects not to see her all night near Soobin. From what she had heard (but never seen) about the couple's rocky relationship she thought this would be it. She would now see them fight as he dared approach her during such important talks.

But for Haein, seeing her husband walk towards her with their adorable daughter in his hands was a sight in and of itself. Her eyes were already on them. Hyunwoo politely greets everyone and leans in close to her to say: 'I've tried everything I could. I think she needs you.' She pauses her conversation on the spot. Says her apologies and moves inside to care for her daughter. Hyunwoo takes up the conversation and sells the store for her until she comes back with a happy Soobin in her arms for the crowd to coo at. Among the many photos the photographer had taken of the night their favourite remains of Soobin absolutely overjoyed to see her father as her mother mirrors both of their joy at being able to witness the moment.

Little do the happy family know there's gossip - and a lot of it at that. There's gossip on the mighty lawyer Hyunwoo being a wuss who's not in control of the house. On Hyunwoo not doing his part as a father 'So what if he has a pretty face, he should be slaving away taking care of his daughter why give her to the mother when things get difficult?' On Haein for being duped by his charms. On Haein for holding the baby wrong. For growing soft, for being dumb enough to ignore big shot CEOs because a human with a brain not even fully developed was crying.

No one sees the couple take respite in caring for their adorable daughter. Even when Soobin cries the shrillest, it makes Hyun woo just pick up another toy and Haein make the funniest face she can think of to appease her. They know the pain of the loss of a child. They cannot fathom not doing everything in their power to love this gift of theirs. No matter what she does she has both of them wrapped around her fingers. Because they're the luckiest to have her and call themselves her parents. It feels like a miracle each day and they'd be damned if they let a stupid department store take that away from them. So what if they lost a contract or two, the extra wons wouldn't fill up their candy jar. After all, all the money they had couldn't bring back their baby either.