starrupaste

[starcurtain]

Teyvat's "Most Down Bad" Award Goes to Alhaitham for a Second Year Running

Seeing everyone making fun of Alhaitham for his "stalkerish" tendencies in this event is funny, because I feel like a lot of people missed that "Be literally everywhere Kaveh is" has been Alhaitham's MO from the day Kaveh appeared in the game.

From only grabbing his house keys after Kaveh returned from the desert (he couldn't have had both sets of keys at the end of the Archon Quest unless he went home and got Kaveh's copy) to ditching conversations to get back to his house only after Kaveh came home, to showing up without any warning or explanation in Kaveh's hangout with some ridiculous excuse about hearing his voice through noise-cancelling headphones... Refusing to offer any help in the Temple of Silence story quest other than staying in the library with Kaveh...

Since when does Alhaitham willingly cover anyone else's duties?

But this trend of "Be everywhere Kaveh is" didn't start when they were adults. It was already in place when they were still Akademiya students--and it's a trend that didn't end even when they had their fight.

Even when they weren't speaking, Alhaitham dogged Kaveh's every step through published responses to Kaveh's research articles in academic journals. He insisted on keeping a line of communication between himself and Kaveh open, even if the only way to do that was through very public ideological clashes. Pulling Kaveh's pigtails to get his attention lolol. It's implied that, for at least the few years between their fight and Kaveh moving in, this was the only communication between them--Alhaitham's refusal to allow their connection to entirely fade away. (And the fact that this is revealed in Kaveh's character stories--through his precious journal that records the moments of his life that had the most impact on him--shows just how deeply he values the fact that Alhaitham didn't give up.)

Another relevant side note: Alhaitham never asked Kaveh to give up his half of their house. Knowing half of it belonged to Kaveh, knowing that Kaveh may one day want to reclaim his part of it, knowing that it was listed as theirs, Alhaitham moved into the house and made zero effort to change its ownership. He was completely fine with living in "his and Kaveh's house." The stories suggest it was only months later (or even longer) that Kaveh even noticed he had the house, and he transferred away ownership of his portion without Alhaitham ever asking him (or even seemingly wanting him) to do so.

Please, let that sink in. Alhaitham actively left his grandmother's (presumably comfortable) house to move into "his and Kaveh's house," with no apparent explanation for why, and after doing so, he made no attempt to change that "his and Kaveh's" label. He moved into the house with no promise that Kaveh wouldn't show up on the doorstep the very next day and move in too. It almost feels like another deliberate provocation--I've moved into our house, are you going to come stop me? LBR, if Alhaitham had had his way, Kaveh would have been living there with him from Day 1...

There's also the fact that Kaveh literally can't write on a single message board anywhere in the entire nation of Sumeru without Alhaitham hunting his messages down and responding to them (which absolutely no one else does, by the way).

"NUH-UH!" "UH-HUH." "NUH-UH!"

Alhaitham's own character stories tell us explicitly that one of Alhaitham's defining character traits is "He is never where you need him to be," yet somehow...

Shot, and chaser:

Any time Kaveh is in the slightest bit of need or danger or just wants Alhaitham near, Alhaitham is "coincidentally" exactly where Kaveh needs him to be, whenever Kaveh needs him to be there.

Alhaitham didn't just "happen" to run into Kaveh in Port Ormos, an entirely different city from where he was supposed to be working. He didn't just "happen" to read the same terrible book as Kaveh when we know he otherwise would not waste a moment of his time on poorly-written literature...

He didn't just "happen" to appear when Kaveh was upset and needed a distraction in the House of Daena during Kaveh's hangout. He didn't just "happen" to be sitting around waiting when Kaveh needed answers after the Archon Quest. He didn't just "happen" to find Kaveh's academic publications and every single message board posting and respond to them at length and in public.

The only person for whom Alhaitham just "happens" to be available is Kaveh, over and over and over again--because he is very deliberately making himself a constant presence in Kaveh's life.

Which is exactly what Kaveh's mother told Kaveh he needed.

(Like, out of all things, I think people really underestimate the devs deliberately paralleling the romantic relationship between Kaveh's mother and father with Kaveh and Alhaitham's relationship. If you want to point to one thing that says "These two characters are intentionally queer-coded," it doesn't get any more obvious than this.)

Alhaitham, are you not embarrassed to be this transparent??? 🫣

[slutforfictionalwomen]

Just relax

Kinktober day 28

Natasha Romanoff x Fem Reader

Main kinks: mommy kink

Word count: 1,2K

Summary: You're in a bad mood, and your mommy is just trying to cheer you up.

Warnings: Smut, mommy kink, praise kink, fluff, soft sex, cunnilingus, fingering, begging.

(Please tell me if I forgot anything)

"What's really going on, baby?" It's late in the evening, and you've just come down to get a snack. Ever since you got home in the afternoon, Natasha has noticed your annoyed attitude.

You rummage through the cupboard, clearly still irritated for whatever reason. Natasha notices you making a mess of her cupboard and decides to help you find what you need.

You're a young college student with strict Christian parents. When the 39 year old Natasha met you, you still lived with your parents because you couldn't afford an apartment. She took you in, and quickly, things started to bloom between the two of you.

"Sweetie, please tell me what happened. I'll get you the snacks you're craving, but please just tell me what's going on." Natasha's hand in on the small of your back, rubbing the circles with her thumb she knows you go crazy for.

Finally, you turn to face her. But as soon as your eyes meet hers, tears start running down your face. Natasha immediately pulls you into a hug, whispering sweet words in your ear.

"All my classmates are having a Halloween party at campus, including my friends. I'm not invited, I'm the only one in our form who isn't," you sob into Natasha's shoulder. The older woman is shocked by what you tell her, how could everyone be invited except for her sweet girl?

"Honey, are you sure they didn't just forget they hadn't invited you yet?" Natasha keeps rubbing circles on your back, not pulling away from the hug. You immediately speak in sobs again, "No, I asked at what time and where it exactly was., but they said it was a stupid question because I wasn't invited anyway." Saying that last sentence out loud breaks you again.

"Oh baby," Natasha pulls away from the hug to wipe away your tears. Your poor little face has makeup smudged all over it, your eyeliner long gone. "You know what? I'll give you an extra nice day, we can have fun without those stupid college people. But first we need to clean your face, pretty girl."

Natasha has gently washed your face with a cloth and warm water. She also helped you change into some more comfortable clothes.

Now she wants you to decide whatever you want to do. She has named multiple examples, like watching a movie, shopping, or swimming.

However, you found out about a place to cuddle with goats near your house, and that is what you want to do.

It's only a ten minute walk away from Natasha's house. "This is a rather funny activity, but I could've expected it from an animal lover like you." Natasha presses a soft kiss to your hand, a gesture that still makes you blush.

There's only a few other people, people with little kids. It reminds you of how you used to spend time at a similar place at home when you were little. You pull Natasha just a bit closer.

You end up having a lot of fun. Natasha acts like a typical mum, petting the animals but keeping a bit of a distance and taking pictures of you. She loves seeing you happy like this, having fun out of just playing with goats.

The two of you decide to go by Starbucks on the way home, getting coffee and a sweet treat. You attempt to pay for yourself but fail as Natasha refuses to let you. "It's your day, sweetheart."

Natasha picks out a table with a booth for you. You start sipping on your drink and eating your muffin when Natasha moves her hand to your upper thigh, softly caressing it. When you try to move her hand away she gives you a warning look, so you just have to put up with the feelings it evokes.

Apparently, that was the idea because Natasha leans down to whisper in your ear. "When we get home, I'll make you feel so good, baby. Better than any Halloween party could ever make you feel. No one could ever make you feel better than I do."

The walk home is uncomfortable with the slick between your legs. As soon as you get home and sit down on the couch, Natasha is all over you. Normally, her kisses are rough, but now she's being soft. Her hands caress your body, whereas they normally grope you in an almost bruising way. She's being the most gentle with you she has ever been.

"Baby, I don't want to do this on the couch today." She takes you upstairs to her room to continue there. Asking you if she can take your shirt off before doing so, she same with the rest of your clothes.

When you're fully naked, she first spends time thoroughly exploring your body with her mouth. "Beg for it, baby," she says when your hands grab her hair.

You think for a moment about whether you want to do as she said or you want to be a brat. Giving in seems the better option right now. "Please mommy, please fuck me. I'm so needy, please!"

Natasha chuckles at your words, how you have learned how to beg properly in the time you've been with her. She kisses down your body, pressing a kiss to the mound of your pussy before speaking, "Such a good girl for mommy."

You whine at the praise, but it turns into a moan as the older woman dives in to lick your pussy. Her tongue disappears to pay attention to your bundle of nerves, making you hold onto her hair tighter.

"You like that, pretty girl? Like it when I praise you and rub your little pussy?" She says before diving back in to suck your clit. She's high on the moans that escape your mouth. You know you can be loud, but you still hold back. Natasha knows that about you and often sees it as a challenge.

She pushes one of her short nailed fingers into your aching hole while keeping up the licks on your sweet spot. The way she curls her finger pulls another loud moan out of you.

The older woman starts thrusting into you, sucking and licking your clit, trying to pull as many sweet moans from you as possible on the way to your orgasm.

She's relentless when it comes to this, whispering sweet words when she can, but mostly keeping her mouth on you. When she feels you getting closer, she adds a finger to your pussy. You immediately clench around it.

"Please mommy I'm gonna cum," you say when Natasha starts to constantly hit your spot with her fingers, while lapping your bundle of nerves with her tongue.

The older woman pulls her mouth away for a second, keeping up the motion with her fingers to not lose your orgasm. "Cum whenever, sweetheart."

It takes seconds for you to reach the edge, fully clenching around her while bucking up and riding out your orgasm. Natasha chuckles at the sweet sounds you make. She pulls her fingers out and cleans up your pussy with her tongue before making you clean her fingers.

"Come on, baby, it's time to take a shower." She takes her clothes off, then she lifts your already naked body up to walk to the bathroom.

[hotteokyu]

Bad Girl Syndrome

MINORS DNI ~ EXPLICIT CONTENT

Synopsis~ Reader and Yunho are some bad bitches. They're lovers in crime, infamous for their heartless acts. Everyone knows them. The scariest of the scariest are scared of them. They're insane. Except... there's one little secret. The lovers are so innocent behind closed doors. They've never thought about it until now, let alone done it. Sex, that is.

Word count~ 11.4k

Pairing~ outlaw!yunho x outlaw!reader

Genre / WARNINGS ~ NSFW / EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT, romance, violence, drugs, criminal activity, sexual tension, pet names, insensitive language, yu and y/n are super cute, they "participate" in an orgy temporarily, dry humping, vaginal fingering, oral (female and male receiving), vaginal sex, yuyu's big, first time, virgins.

a/n~ have fun!! mwa ᯓᡣ𐭩

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     Everyone has a story. Most of them aren’t important. 

     But yours is.

     You were fifteen when you met him. 

     It was silly because he was just like you.

     He liked to do bad things.

     You saw him first at a local charity. One that helped ex-convicts start a new life. You saw him hand a freaky-looking shit a gun. It was on the news the next morning. Fifteen people died. And that freaky guy killed himself after.

     You liked to do bad things too.

     Smashing vending machines, selling drugs, breaking into rich fucks’ houses, and snipping their whores’ hair off while they slept. Just small things.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     Jeong Yunho was his name.

     It took only a month for him to notice you. When you got together at sixteen, you began to do worse things. Kill, rob, torment. It felt so much better to do it with Yunho. Your reputation built on its own as your desire to play alongside him grew.

     You were wanted in four countries by eighteen.

     At nineteen, you were arrested in Mongolia for murder and wanted to die rather than live through that hell. You were assaulted physically and sexually multiple times by inmates and guards alike.

     You were twenty when you killed an inmate for trying to take your clothes off. You had smashed her head against the cell bars until her brains were spilling out and she collapsed, dead. You were gone before she was found.

     You and Yunho had to move around a lot after that, and you found others along the way. Seven outlaws, wanted for this or that. Your gang was somewhat official by the time you were twenty-one. That’s when you found your turf. And you never left.

     By twenty-four, you were fucking unstoppable. 

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     “Hmm? Where’s your bitch?” 

     The bar was quiet. The bartender, a youthful drunkard, was always talking the customers away. It was bad for business but nice for the locals. For you and your bitch.

     “He’s around,” you sighed. “You think he’ll leave me? He doesn’t even take me out anymore.” You sat down softly upon a stool at the bar, your chin resting on the palm of your hand sadly. There was even a little pout to go with it. “I just might die if he leaves me.”

     The man scoffed, rubbing uselessly at a stained glass, pinching its rim with a black hand towel. It looked like it would turn to dust, as it used to be purple. “About time. I’m tired of your shit.”

     You ignored him, instead sighing again as you eyed the door gloomily. 

     Wooyoung was his name, maybe. You’d thought about killing him before, but Yunho really liked him. For some reason. He was so loud. Holy shit, he did not stop talking. It made you so fucking close to slicing his neck wide open.

     The bell above the door rang, and two heavy feet stumbled inside. You closed your eyes, letting out a long sigh. You’d taken a shower that morning, but a bath didn’t sound too bad. Just to soothe your frustrations, though you could already feel them fading away.

     You opened your eyes slowly, cocking a brow at the bartender, who was very much not amused. At least he wasn’t talking. 

     “Wooyoungie~!” you sang, hopping to your feet as the steps grew closer. You let a smirk land on your lips. “I think I’ll live tonight!”

     “I think you should just go home,” he groaned, eyeing the customer behind you, then returning his annoyed orbs right back at your growing grin. Your lips stretched far over your teeth as you reached a cheek-squishing smile.

     “There’s no tomorrow! Only tonight!” you shouted. 

     The steps behind you halted. Even retreated just once or twice. You stepped out, twirling your hair over your shoulder as you turned your head toward him. Six feet tall, big, strong, eyes wide in terror as he laid them on your grin. 

     You liked eyeing up those men. The big ones who turned to putty as soon as they heard your pretty voice or saw your beautiful face. It was so cute. I mean, who could be scared of you? Your little bows and skirts. Your cutesy smile and pretty pink lip gloss. Not to mention your beautiful eyes. Any man would want to fall deep into their ethereal design. But instead, they were drained of all color. Gray clumps of old smelly men who were so scared of you. It made the killing part so much more fulfilling. 

     You took a step, your left foot before your right. A straight line as you pattered your way, just a few steps, toward the frozen man. They were so slow. Could he even see you moving? He didn’t even move his eyes from your smile. He was a little nervous. You had to let him get comfortable with your face, let him enjoy it. It would be the last thing he ever saw.

     You could see his tremble as you got closer, just a bit. He didn’t move, but he consistently quivered in that spot.

     Around then, you would usually be thinking of how you wanted to do it, but you were so tired. You just wanted to slit his throat and be done. Have Wooyoung take care of the rest. Or maybe just let him go. He seemed to want to leave anyway. Not that you were stopping him. 

     A glass slid against the counter then. You glanced over, just a little curious. You were so zoned in, but the sound broke that abruptly.

     “Hi, baby,” Yunho mumbled from a stool at the bar. Your pin-sized pupils dilated significantly at the simple sight of him. The soft, low sound of his voice. 

     You heard a whimper of sorts from the man beside you, and you frowned, eyeing him and deepening the curve of your lips. “Can you just go?” you sighed, rolling your eyes when his legs stumbled in trying to figure out where to move. 

     His knees dropped to the floor, a droplet of water splashing against the dirty mud-tracked tile. That was either a tear or the drool that had been dripping from his mouth since he fucking walked in. Disgusting. He suddenly choked out a sob so gruesome and horrified as he slammed his arms over his head.

     “Oh, okay.” She glanced over at the two men at the counter, slowly shrugging in confusion. They were getting so stupidly scared. How could fear make you like that? That’s so embarrassing. 

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     “How are you still standing, Wooyoungie?” Yunho chuckled, splashing his drink as he clanked his glass against your kitchen counter. “Her face is so scary~!” He took your head between his two huge hands and squished your cheeks together, imitating the pout that your lips formed as he watched your features reshape between his palms. “Ooh~ I’m so scared~!” He grinned when your tightly knitted brows lightened and hopped a little with your small laugh. 

     “I’m going home,” Wooyoung grumbled, pushing his glass away as he sighed dramatically at your lovey-lovely shit. “Don’t call me. I’ll be dead anyway.”

     “No~! That’s not true!!” you laughed. “We’ll protect you!” 

     Yunho nodded, giving Wooyoung a confident thumbs up. He wasn’t really having it.

     “Don’t call me.”

     The door creaked and slammed, the sound echoing throughout the room. Yunho was watching the frames on the wall tremble for a moment before he eagerly turned back toward you. His grin was playful as always, his eyes squinting as he watched your pretty little face.

     “Are you excited for tomorrow?” he asked, his smile growing a bit bigger when you nodded quickly. He put a gentle hand on your head, stroking down once, then twice. There was always a gentleness to his gaze that you adored. Because Yunho was a dangerous man, but he also became putty when he looked at you. Only in a completely different way from anyone else. 

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     Money wasn’t the issue. It was just so thrilling. Of course, money was great too. There was just something about that moment outside of the forbidden vault. You could hardly breathe with the mask sticking to your face like a second layer of skin. Your eyes sparkled out of excitement and the reflection of the shimmer of the silver vault door. 

     You weren’t allowed in there. You weren’t allowed to have any of what lay beyond the door. So you wanted it. 

     “Ladies first.” Yunho’s voice was soft beside your ear, his body pressing lightly against your back as he bent down to meet you at your level. You lifted your hand just high enough to feel the fluff of his black hair peeking out from the mask at his neck. You slid your fingers against the soft of his skin gently. “Or are you scared?” he whispered, folding just a little closer. He took your wrist in his hand and lowered it, placing it on the wheel of the door. “Or do you need help?”

     You pulled, and the door creaked, slowly opening to reveal the bags and boxes of treasures within. This town was so underdeveloped. No need for technology or even locks within the vault because there was hardly anything to anyone’s name anyway. 

     “You’ve got three minutes. We parked out back. Call when you’re ready to go.” You could hear the crinkles of a bag and the crunches of snacks through your earpiece. Seonghwa was probably in the driver’s seat munching on some chips. At least he ate neatly. 

     As soon as you stepped foot into the room, the other three outlaws on your raid team rushed inside. San, Jongho, and Yeosang. They were big, and strong, and good at being efficient in times like these. They would take care of loading the goods. 

     You walked past the gold bars and green bills toward the back of the vault, an empty wall, the perfect canvas. Yunho held out the spray paint, black this time. Black meant murder, though this was a robbery. There was one death, the lady at the counter who wanted to be a hero. But it was hardly murder. She collapsed with a little push against the wall.

     Sighing, you took the can. Then, as far as your arms could reach, you sprayed your gang’s cute little symbol. The curves looked nice that time, dripping just a bit as you stood back to admire your hard work. 

     “We’re leaving,” Yunho announced as you turned toward the door. The room was nearly empty. You grabbed the final bag as everyone filed out.

     The blood on the floor from the lady had spread into the walkway. You stepped into the puddle with a small smile. You liked leaving a trace of your cute pink boots behind. The cops would go crazy over the evidence, but it would be useless.

     “I thought you liked those boots,” Yunho mumbled, pouting a little as you all got in the van and drove off. “They’re ruined…”

     “I’ll get new ones,” you assured, knowing he liked them more than you did. 

     You wiggled your feet out and frowned when you saw a drop of red on your white sock down by your toes. Yunho gasped, taking your foot off of the van floor and placing it in his lap. 

     “You like these too,” he grumbled.

     Yunho always grew a little attached to cute things. Especially when they were on you. 

     You placed your hands on his soft cheeks, his eyes meeting yours. “I think you like them more than I do,” you teased, and he nodded. “Do you like them more than you like me?” you asked, pouting a little.

     “Holy shit!” San suddenly shouted. Everyone turned their heads in confusion, your hands dropping to your lap. “Get a fucking room,” he practically growled, glaring at the two of you in the back seat. “I’m tired of hearing it! You’re practically fucking each other every heist! Just wait until you get home!” He huffed and turned around in his seat.

     Sex. What distaste.

     “San, be for serious right now,” Wooyoung snickered.

     “They don’t even kiss. What do you mean fuck?” Jongho added. San glanced around in confusion.

     “They’re all up on each other, though, what do you mean??” 

     When you simply shifted in your seat, making your presence known, silence passed through the air. Not a single thought passed through that rigid air. No one moved. San’s face was awfully fucking pale compared to his golden skin. You’d think out of all of the seven outlaws you picked up from the streets, the stray cat should be the most grateful. I guess even loyal pets need to be retaught their manners.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     San looked guilty. There was nothing for him to be afraid of. You would never hurt him too badly. He was family, after all. 

     Choi San.

     You loved to joke around. You loved to have fun. You were a jolly girl. But to label you a whore? To speak or even think about such vulgar, lowly things?

     “San, what did we talk about, honey,” you asked, glancing down at his trembling hand, gripping his thigh and staining his black pants with his sweat. “It’s not too hard, is it? To respect me and your people.” 

     He shook his head, staring straight at the ground. You could feel your eye twitching. This relationship was not built on violence, so, unfortunately, you couldn’t just fucking kill him. 

     “San, please look at me.” His head shot up, and you saw the hot tears quivering in his bloodshot eyes. You frowned. “Poor, baby.” He was doing a poor job of keeping those tears bottled up. They looked like they’d spill over. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

     “I know,” he said between gritted teeth.

     “You know, I love you,” you said sweetly, giving him a small smile. 

     “I know.”

     “So what brought about this disrespect?” you asked, your voice growing just a bit tighter as you tried to contain yourself. He was fragile. “Was I rude to you? Was I bothering you too much? Do I annoy you?”

     He shook his head. “I was worried about your privacy,” he mumbled. His jaw was locked tight, the veins in his neck bulging as he stared into the center of your face. “That’s all.”

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     “Fuuuck~” Wooyoung groaned. “I’m so ready to get the fuck out of here!” He leaned his head against the wall, lifting it and dropping it in quiet thuds.

     “Got a day left, Woo,” Yeosang reminded, smiling optimistically at his friend. He gave a cute thumbs-up, but the goon was uninterested, instead banging his head just a bit harder against the heist room wall. 

     “We’ve only been here for three months,” Hongjoong said as he walked in through the back door. His steps were a sophisticated rhythm, one foot in front of the other as he strolled into the little abandoned warehouse. “What’s one more day?”

     “Captain, I’m sick of living in hiding like a fucking criminal,” Wooyoung grumbled, stopping his banging once the man sat down.

     “That’s crazy,” Jongho snickered. “Who’s gonna tell him?”

     “Fuck, we deserve luxury,” Wooyoung practically moaned. “That town we went to two years back. We should go there again.” He bit his lip, rolling his eyes at the pleasurable thought of living like normal rich biches again.

     Hongjoong smiled softly. It always looked a little menacing that way. “Our princess picked out a nice place for us this time,” he said, winking as Wooyoung’s face lit up. “I thought it might be nice to fuck up something nice.”

     “Fuck, you’re so right,” Wooyoung moaned.

     “Did we forget our manners, Wooyoungie?” Yunho asked, leaning against the back of his chair. Wooyoung flinched just slightly before relaxing into a playful smirk.

     “Yeah. I’m a bad boy,” he mumbled, leaning his head back into Yunho’s stomach. “Gotta punish me.” 

     He glanced at you and your indifferent expression. He looked annoyed, disappointed, even. Then he lifted his head, sighed, and acted like nothing had just happened. 

     “Can we focus on tonight? We can’t fuck this up,” you said, and all eyes landed on you. “The cops are on high alert, and they know we’ll be there. They want to get us tonight.”

     “You mean, you?” Wooyoung grumbled. “They don’t give a shit about us. They just want you.” He eyed you reluctantly, then glanced toward Yunho. “And maybe him.” He half-assed a point toward the man. 

     “Don’t be silly,” Yunho cooed, patting Wooyoung’s shoulder sympathetically. “They want all of us equally.”

     Hongjoong shook his head. “No, he’s right,” he said. “We’re all fucked up, but you guys are on another level of fucked up. You’re the real prize.” 

     “I bet they’d cuff one of us just to ask where Y/n is. They’d let us go if we told,” San said, puckering his lips. “But I’m a good boy, so I’d never tell.”

     You scrunched your brows. Why were your teammates such freaks?

     “Aww~!” Wooyoung sung. “Is Sannie a good boy?” San nodded, giving his best puppy eyes as Wooyoung leaned over the table to stroke his short black hair.

     “Anyway!” you interrupted, clearing your throat when the freaks wouldn’t stop petting each other. “Does everyone remember what they need to fucking do?” You pressed your lips together, glancing at each individual as they nodded. One of them would find a way to fuck this up. You knew they would. It would probably be fucking Choi San, his head stuck thinking about sex. Sex. Sex. Fucking whore. 

     You left the room first, and Yunho followed close behind. Your black heels clacked on the cracked concrete floor and echoed throughout the empty warehouse. You loved that sound. You let it envelop your mind. Let it calm you down just a bit. 

     You should’ve been excited for that night. It was the night you’d been waiting for for a long time. Then you could finally get out of here. You just couldn’t get yourself hyped. You were so annoyed. 

     Yunho peeked into your line of vision, and you cracked a small smile, turning toward him happily. He was grinning, his hand folding into yours. He always fell into step beside you, his heelclickingng in time with yours. He was so conscious of every little detail. The folds on your skin, how they wrinkled just slightly at your agitation. The falter in your step, how your confidence must not be at its peak as it should be on an important night like this. 

     “Do you think we’re fucked up?” he asked, and you gave him a knowing look.

     “Of course not, baby. Don’t think that,” you cooed. “I’m just so pretty. They all want me so bad.”

     He laughed, squeezing his eyes together giddily as he pulled you just a bit closer. 

     “You gonna dress in black tonight?” he asked, looking from your shoes to your top to the pin in your hair. You were feeling a little depressed today. So what?

     “Mm…” you hummed to yourself. “Maybe I would feel better if I wore some pink.”

     He nodded quickly. “I think so.”

     “Yeah?” you giggled.

     He bit his lip, eyeing you shyly. “Pink looks really good on you.” You nearly coo at the pink blush tinting his cheeks from ear to ear. 

     He was so adorable. You didn’t even need to put any pink on to feel good.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     For context, it was a masquerade party or something. The cargo was a small vial of a newly developed drug. It gave an aroused, high feeling. A lot like an aphrodisiac, but stronger. It didn’t really matter what it was. Your buddies in Russia wanted it, so you would supply it. 

     But, of course, there was a guest list. No one would let you in. Everyone and their mothers knew your pretty little face. 

     That’s where your pretty princess came in. Mingi wasn’t a “member” of your gang, nor was he affiliated with you publically. He was born with money and status but liked to do bad things. He was naughty, but he was quiet. And he fucking loved you and Jeong Yunho. He met you two back when you were kids in Korea. He tagged along for a while but was dragged back to the princess life before anything became public. He had connections, money, and a fine good reputation. Your perfect princess. 

     You would go to the party as “Mingi”’s plus one. The man at your side would only be Mingi until you got inside, though. Once the identity authentication was processed, he would sneak out and switch with Yunho. As much as you all loved Mingi, he wasn’t very good at being naughty. 

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     “Are you feeling all right, baby?” Yunho asked, his arm escorting you stiffly through the crowd.

     You hardly heard him over the extremity of your heartbeat. Fuck, this place was gorgeous. You wanted to look around at each painting, each dress, each extravagant jewel bedazzling the walls and tables, and fountains of assortments of drinks, and the gold flakes on sweet macaroons. The clacks of gentle steps elegantly echoed throughout the doming walls of the crystal structure. You could die a happy lady with this sight.

     “Do you like the dress I picked out for you?” Mingi asked from over the radio. Yunho’s arm tensed at your side, squeezing yours to him to keep your steps from wandering too far in amazement.

     You glanced toward Yunho with a soft, composed smile. “It’s lovely,” you told Mingi. In all honesty, it was pale and boring. Not at all your style, but at least it was shiny and blended in with the majority of the crowd. 

     Your mask, on the other hand, was absolutely stunning. When Yunho saw your sparkling eyes hidden beautifully in the shadows of the decorative piece, he nearly fell to his knees. He was in awe, not wanting to part from you, even if it was for, like, ten minutes. Mingi had to pry your arm from his grasp. It was embarrassing in front of your members, but you could just coo at his needy behavior. 

     Yunho gave you a knowing look as you frowned slightly down at your dress. 

     “The room you need to go into is downstairs,” Mingi sighed. “The guy with your package should arrive there soon.”

     “Any cams in there?” Yeosang asked, his fingers clacking against his ancient keyboard. 

     Mingi hummed. “I doubt it. Most of the time… shit goes down in the basement, ya know?” 

     It was a disadvantage you wish you didn’t have, but there was literally no information on the activities in the room you needed to be in. You had to be prepared for anything, and that was dangerous. 

     “Y/n, you see anything noteworthy around the stairs in the back?” Wooyoung asked. “I think I might know something.”

     You turned to Yunho, smiling up at him as you swayed your hand animatedly, talking almost silently but very expressively. “I think I know too. Butlers are carrying drinks down there every few minutes. Attendees…” you chuckled, a little nervous now that it’s all clicked for you. “The most revealing of the ladies and oldest, ugliest of the men.”

     Yunho nodded, smiling. “Does that mean…”

     “Well,” Wooyoung chuckled. “At least there’s two of you! It should be fine!”

     You winced as he let out a louder, monkey fucking laugh into your ear. You'd beat him up later, respect aside. 

     “You think this is funny?” you asked through tightly ground teeth. 

     “Guuuys~” he giggled, starting to calm down a bit. “It won’t be too hard. There’s gonna be tons of drugs and butt-naked men, but don’t pay attention to any of that.”

     “We don’t even know if that’s what it is,” Yeosang interrupted. 

     “That’s definitely what it is,” you sighed, watching as panting men and ladies escaped the darkness of the basement, sweating, flushed, and high as fuck.

     Wooyoung cleared his throat. “Listen. All you have to do is pretend to have some fun together. Then, pull out your magic drugs and get the guy’s attention. You know what the new stuff looks like. Make sure to bag it. You’ve done this for years, babes.”

     “Yeah, but people weren’t fucking and moaning and blocking every fucking sen-”

     Yunho placed a hand on your hip and squeezed lightly. You needed to shut the fuck up. Who were you to complain? It wouldn’t be hard. Woo was right. You would get in, bag that shit, and get out.

     “Let’s just go,” you mumbled, letting your expression sag to its natural annoyed state before you plastered an excited smile on your lips. 

     Yunho also seemed reluctant but tagged along regardless. I mean, neither of you really had a choice. This, or your Russian “buddies” would come find you while you were sleeping. 

     The guy at the door stopped you as you approached. You giggled like a slut, leaning into Yunho as you bit your lip. You reached into your man’s jacket pocket and slipped out just barely your little container of candy. He looked satisfied and let you pass. 

     You practically gagged as soon as that stench hit your nose. What the fuck was it. Alcohol. Tobacco. Cum. 

     What a fucking mess. 

     Woo was right. Buck naked, boobies hanging. Sex in every corner. Sex on every couch. 

     “Come on, baby,” Yunho groaned in your ear, pulling you to a free chair in the back of the room. Your ear twitched at the sound. It was definitely something you’d never heard from your sweet man before. You already knew he was much better at acting like he’d actually had sex before than you were. 

     He sat down and pulled you onto his lap. That was about all he had in him. He dropped his arms, pressed his lips tightly together, and stared wide-eyed at you above him. 

     “So you guys are in,” Wooyoung chuckled. “Where are you two in the room? Stay in the back, away from everyone’s attention.”

     “We’re in the back. O-on a chair,” you whispered into Yunho’s ear, right where his mic was. You lingered there for a moment. You could figure this out. It couldn’t be that hard. Sex. I mean, not sex. Pretending you were having sex. 

     After a long moment of horrible silence in your little area, Wooyoung cleared his throat. “Do you guys need some help?”

     “Yes,” you and Yunho both whispered immediately. 

     Wooyoung let out the biggest sigh, but he didn’t say anything about your incompetence as a couple. I mean, everyone knew you DID NOT fuck. For some reason… Everyone knew that. 

     “Sit on Yunho’s lap, Y/n,” he said. You nodded, glad you already had step one down. “All the way. Get all the way up on him.”

     You tilted your head. “All-?”

     “All the way.”

     You blushed, clearing your throat lightly as you scooted up on his lap, your hips flush together. You leaned over him, your mouth beside his ear simply to have his mic handy, but, this close, it felt too real already to simply be a mission. You’d never climbed your man like this before. You were probably heavy.

     “Yunho, hands on her hips.” 

     They were quick to tap your flesh, trembling as he curled his long, slender fingers around your waist. 

     “Now, listen to me,” he sighed, “Y/n, you’re gonna, like, roll your hips, BUT, you're gonna push against his stomach, NOT his crotch. Okay?? Not his crotch. Don't touch him there. Lift your hips a bit and roll them against his stomach.” 

     Yunho helped you lift your hips up a bit. You puckered your lips as you slowly pushed your hips forward. It was awkward and stiff, but you thought maybe you were doing it right. I mean, it didn’t feel like anything, so you couldn’t tell if it actually looked like you were doing anything. 

     “Does this seem right?” you whispered, continuing the slow rocking motion with his gentle guidance. 

     “Probably…” he mumbled, taking a slow, shaky breath.

     “Yunho, make sure to put on a good face for the crowd, buddy,” Wooyoung said. Yunho tensed a bit at that. You, though… immediately lifted your face from his side and stared at him. He was flushed, his eyes wide, a bit shocked at your sudden movement. 

     But you didn’t want him to make expressions like that for everyone to see. 

     You pressed your forehead against his with slightly parted lips. He was so close, his hands on your body, lips just an inch from yours. You had to close your eyes, taking slow breaths. 

     “I think this is better,” you mumbled, your nose brushing just barely against his. 

     He tried to nod, but it was just a tremble of his adorable features as he gazed at everything in front of him. 

     After a moment, everything started to slow down a bit. Your legs were relaxing, getting a bit messier in their precise movement, and you lowered just a bit. 

     He hissed, and you eyed him in confusion. Was he hurting somewhere? He shook his head, his grip on your hips tightening. He whispered something, but with his mouth so far from your ear, his voice was drowned out by the moaning and slapping throughout the room.

     So you leaned forward, your head above his shoulder, but instead of words, you were met with a low groan.

     You could hear the sudden confusion in Wooyoung’s hums on the other end. “Yunho? You good, man? What happened?”

     “I don’t think this is right,” he mumbled.

     “What do you mean?” you whispered.

     “I don’t think we’re doing it right,” he breathed, his voice starting to tremble as he let out the smallest peep of a sound against his will.

     “It’s not like I’ve done this before,” you grumbled. “It’s fine as long as it looks like we’re doing something.”

     “No, I mean-”

     “It’s fine, Yunho. We’ll be done soon anyway.”

     He dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a defeated sigh, his grip loose on your hips as he let out small, shivering sounds, some low, some soft and light. You could hardly hear them at all. 

     You didn’t really know what to do. It would be over as soon as you found your guy. You would apologize and pamper him when it was all over. 

     “He’s headed in,” Wooyoung announced. “Get his attention, please.” 

     “Wow, so polite today,” you mumbled, lifting your head just a bit to glance toward the door. 

     There he was, old, wrinkly, ugly, short. You know how it is. You wondered if he’d even be interested in you with your clothes on. Cause you were not fucking taking them off.

     You grabbed the drugs from Yunho’s pocket, hopped off his lap, and strode across the room. You caught his eye almost immediately. Without a word, you grabbed his tie and pulled his head toward yours, tapping your forehead against his.

     He looked interested already, but at the sight of what was in your hand, his pupils blew out completely. 

     “I brought my toy with me tonight,” you said, slurring your words with a giggle. “But he’s no fun right now. Wanna join us?” 

     He was practically drooling, so you pulled away. If any of that fucking got on you, you would’ve made it everybody’s problem. 

     He nodded, but, stepping just a bit closer, you shook your head, tisking at his desperate agreement.

     “You got anything with you? Dick is no fun tonight.” You pouted a bit. 

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     To say this was the easiest fucking mission you’d ever done just wasn’t enough. I mean, you got to climb on your man for the first time. You got to dress up and attend a fancy ball with a fancy ball gown. You didn’t have to show your face. You got what you needed without a problem.

     But then you were back in your little home, buried under the rush of the working class. Buried under the city, under the shops and the stars and the people. You and Yunho were alone.

     And to say it wasn’t the most awkwardly silent moment in your entire life simply wouldn’t give justice to the situation. Because how does one go about something so different from anything you’d ever done before? Especially when your relationship status has been set at relaxing routine for years on end. Nothing has ever changed or developed since you were teenagers. 

     Now you were sitting on your little couch, facing the wall, side by side, as there wasn’t much room for any more than just the two of you. There was never the need for any more space. Why was everything so clustered all of a sudden? Everything was so hot. You were flustered, warm, and you needed to change into something lighter. You needed to scoot just a little bit away from him. You needed some fresh air.

     You didn’t move from your spot. 

     He rubbed his palms against his pants. He must’ve been hot too. He was breathing slowly and deeply. He must’ve been flustered. He was blushing from ear to ear. He must’ve been thinking the same things.

     So neither of you moved.

     Your eyes wandered from the floor to your hands to the wall to his eyes. You both looked away. 

     Fuck, this was so embarrassing. You’d lost track of how many years you’d been together. You hardly remembered a time when you didn’t know him. And this was what it all came to?

     “I’m sorry I did that, Yuyu,” you mumbled, nibbling just slightly against your bottom lip. You promised you would apologize and pamper him until he forgave you, but that was all in the heat of the moment. You were too embarrassed now.

     “No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, almost laughing. He did that when he was beyond embarrassed. Practically humiliated. 

     “It was an inappropriate thing to do on a mission. I should have been more careful,” you sighed. 

     He did laugh then, but more because he could finally look at you and see how serious you were. Your little pout was the cutest thing.

     “I think that was a very appropriate place to do that,” he joked, grinning when you tilted your head in disbelief. He patted your knee, settling down his giggles. “It’s okay, baby. It was just a disguise.”

     “You felt good, though,” you mumbled, your head lowered as you gazed up at his cheeks, turning back to their pink flush. His hand twitched on your knee. He wanted to cover his face with his hand, but he kept it planted there, shaking his head instead.

     “I didn’t,” he denied. “You were doing what Youngie said to do, so I didn’t feel anything.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Seriously.” His voice rose, a small scoff leaving his lips when you just sat there. Yunho couldn’t let lies simmer in silent air for much longer than, like, ten seconds.

     “Well,” you started, sitting up a little straighter, “I didn’t feel anything either.” Which was mostly true. You were so focused on the heist. You didn’t have time to focus on… that.

     “Exactly,” he mumbled, eyeing you with a slight pout. “We didn’t do anything. We don’t do stuff like that.”

     “Well, I mean,” you huffed,  taking a few short, puffing breaths. “It wouldn’t be weird for us to do something like that.”

     “I just mean we haven’t,” he muttered, so quiet and muffled between his puckered lips.

     You blinked a few times, staring blankly at your hands in your lap. “We don’t even know how to do it,” you said, biting your lip as you glanced from him to the floor to him again. He had a similar blank, thoughtless expression, but you knew his mind was spinning like crazy. Just like yours. “And anyway,” you started, tilting your head from side to side as you thought, “it’s weird to start that so late, you know? Like, no one’s a virgin at twenty-four. That’s weird…” You eyed him slowly, and he was covering his mouth then, looking out the window with deep red ears. “...Right? That’s weird, right?”

     “I’m a virgin at twenty-five,” he mumbled, glancing at you. You could tell he was grinning behind his long, slender fingers. “I’m a freak, right?”

     You stared at him, thinking honestly about your answer, for just a moment before nodding. “Yeah, you’re a freak.” 

     He nudged your side with his arm with a grumble of some nonsense, words jumbled together quietly and fast.

     “Hmm?” You quirked a brow, staring at him as he avoided your eyes. “What’d you say?”

     “Nothing,” he mumbled, leaning away from you as you leaned closer, trying to catch his attention. “Nevermind,” he said, obviously fighting a smile as you poked at his side, trying to get him to look at you.

     “No~” you groaned. “What did you saaay??”

     You slipped your leg over his as he refused to look your way and sat right back down in that controversial place you’d been discussing. His lap. 

     He shut his eyes and dropped his head back to the couch cushion in disbelief. “You’ll get mad,” he mumbled.

     “I won’t,” you promised, tapping his chest as he stayed silent for another few seconds. “Were you gonna say…” you pretended to think hard, humming softly as you scooted forward on his lap. “...that you actually felt really good?” You, ever so slightly, rolled your hips forward, and his eyes squeezed tighter as his lips pressed into a thin line. He shook his head. “In a room like that? You like that? Have you been a pervert this whole time, baby?” You gasped as his eyes shot open, and you rolled your hips again. His left eye twitched, making cold contact with yours. “So I was right,” you beamed.

     “No,” he said, planting his hands on your hips and halting your tiny movements. “When did you learn to do that?” he asked, frowning deeply.

     “What do you mean, baby,” you mumbled. “Wooyoung taught me earlier today. You were there.” 

     “This is different,” he said, pushing you away slightly. 

     You shook your head. “Nuh uh. I was doing it like this earlier too.” You suppressed a giddy smile as he gazed at you, completely unimpressed. “Why? Does it feel good?”

     “Of course it does,” he grumbled, glancing from his lap to your eyes over and over like he didn’t know what to do with himself. 

     So you cupped his cheeks in your hands and focused his eyes on you. You raised your brows lightly, a soft smile on your lips. “How about a kiss?” 

     His brows twitched. “What?”

     “You know,” you mumbled, “we kiss all the time.”

     “Do we?” he questioned knowingly. 

     “We do it enough. A good amount. The amount people should, I guess.” 

     He laughed, his cheeks puffing up under your soft palms. He leaned with a small sigh into your right hand, not too tense anymore, just enjoying the view.

     “Should we kiss then?” he asked, pressing his lips together as he gazed at your flushed cheeks. You nodded, your eyes wandering around the room, sometimes flickering to his plump pink lips. 

     As he leaned forward, you quickly closed your eyes. Honestly, you didn’t remember the last time you’d kissed. You only remembered the first one, but you were sixteen. Things were definitely…

     Softer. Gentler. So, so delicate as he pressed his lips against yours. His hands left your hips to cup your cheeks, mimicking your position out of comfort or familiarity. You didn’t care much, though, because this felt really nice.

     The way you paused and let your lips melt into each other's embrace. Then you moved just slightly in no particular way. You just wanted to feel him a little more. He moved his lips along with yours, slow, slow and careful. You could feel his quiet breath through his nose, but his pulse was racing under your pinky finger on his neck. It was silent other than the soft movement of your lips. 

     You shifted closer. Maybe he wouldn’t mind so much if he was distracted. A low groan muffled against your lips and rumbled against your chest as your hips pressed against his. His lips parted but never stopped, moving just a bit faster. He moved one hand to the back of your head, his fingers sliding through your hair. He pulled your face closer. His lips urged you to work faster. Meet his demands. You opened your mouth just a bit like he was. You couldn’t find much of a common movement, but it was a mutual understanding of a growing need. Desire. 

     You flinched, though, when you felt something poke against your sensitive area. You backed your hips away in confusion, but his hands were quick to pull them back.

     “It’s okay,” he whispered, his lips giving little pecks to yours as he let you both catch your breath. “It feels good.” His hands found your back, sliding under your shirt and resting on the bare skin of your lower back. “Does it feel good, baby?” He kissed the corner of your mouth. “I think I like it.”

     “I like it,” you repeated in a soft whisper. 

     He smiled against your lips before leaving them completely. When he leaned to the side and kissed your neck so gently, you shivered with a trembling exhale. Your hands rested on his shoulder as his lips moved in little kisses along your neck. His hands slid up your hack, bunching your shirt above his arms as he raised him inch by inch, feeling your soft skin shiver under his fingertips.

     “Yunho,” you breathed, feeling completely embraced by him from every side. It was heaven, and you felt so warm, so delicate and loved.

     He giggled to himself, his lips still attached to your neck, and you scoffed in disbelief, nearly sitting up. 

     “I want to taste you so bad,” he laughed. “Is that weird?”

     “What?” you squeaked, your eyes popping out from their sockets as he held you closer to him from behind, afraid you’d run away from the confession. 

     “I mean, people do that, right?” he mumbled. “Lick and bite and stuff. That’s normal. It feels good, probably.”

     “Whatever,” you grumbled. “Do what you want.”

     He hummed against your neck, a clear smile growing on his sly lips. “Really?” 

     You didn’t answer, instead burying your face in his neck in complete embarrassment. You were so red. So dazed. And he hadn’t even done anything. This should have been nothing. But every little thing he-

     Your hand slapped to your mouth as the weirdest, grossest sound left your lips. His teeth had sunken into your neck without warning, his tongue giving little kisses of apology as he chuckled. Your breath was warm and quick against your palm as he soothed the red mark he’d left. You wanted to hit him. That felt so bad. It felt so fucking good. No, that’s weird. It shouldn’t feel good for someone to bite you. Or lick you or anything. Like, that’s weird. 

     “Baby~” he mumbled, practically whining with how pathetically he stretched it out. He lifted his head, his mouth agape as he panted and watched you with such a… how would you describe it even? It was like his pupils were starting to glaze over. Like he was high on the tension in the air. Or maybe just the look and the sound of you. 

     “What?” you mumbled shyly.

     “I didn’t know you could make sounds like that,” he said, shutting his mouth to swallow hard. “Did you?” He paused, biting his lip. “And you didn’t tell me?”

     “Obviously not,” you grumbled, looking away as you tried to wipe away his kisses on your neck, suddenly feeling a little cold without him there. But you felt hot everywhere else. There was no forgetting about that. Especially in some places. I mean, it’s not like you were the only one.

     You shook your head quickly, trying to clear your thoughts. I mean, who was going to lead everything if your man was already high on air? You had to stay level-headed. 

     His features twitched suddenly, and his eyes shot down to his lap where his… now that you’re fucking looking at it… huge bulge pressed against your… now that you’re fucking noticing it… leaking core. You were mortified, to say the least. Like, that’s disgusting. You were getting your… stuff on his pants. 

     Your eyes shot up to him, though, when he groaned at the sight. His brows curled upward desperately as he suddenly couldn’t wait another second to move on to the next part.

     “Baby,” he breathed. “Is it… fuck.” He smiled slightly, but it faded quickly, his emotions overwhelming him all at once. “Look at you,” he sighed.

     He pulled your hips closer, rubbing your clothed core against him. You shut your lips tightly as a tiny whimper escaped. He rubbed against you just the right way, sliding against your clit as he pulled you back and forth. 

     He was breathing heavily, his head resting back against the couch. He basked in the feeling, his cheeks red and features feverish. 

     You slid your fingers through his soft hair, and he leaned toward your touch, his eyes closing gently with a content sigh. You kissed his parted lips as he ground your hips against him. Your noises were muffled in each other’s lips as everything started to pick up its pace. His hands left your hips to travel up your stomach, but you kept the rhythm steady. You tilted your head as your lips moved faster and harder against his. You whimpered into his mouth as you felt his tongue lick hesitantly against your lips. You let him in, his tongue meeting yours with desperate intention. Your eyes rolled back at the taste of him, and his hands gently cupped your breasts with a low groan. 

     “They’re so soft,” he mumbled against your lips.

     “Did you think they’d be rough?” you giggled, breaking away from the kiss with a playful smack of your lips. Your smile faltered as he gave them a soft squeeze. Feeling his big hands slowly envelop your chest made you blush. Sure you weren’t insecure about your body, but his hands just made everything feel so small. Not that you minded at all.

     His thumb brushed against your nipple, and you whimpered at the sensitive touch. His ear visibly twitched as he took note of your response. He brought his fingers to your nipples and flicked them lightly, and you shivered, plopping your forehead down to his shoulder. 

     “Does that feel good?” he cooed, puckering his lips as he listened to your little hiccups of soft, airy moans as he gently pinched and caressed your aroused buds.

     Your thighs were getting weak as you lazily ground your hips down against him. One of his hands came down to your thigh and tapped it lightly before he lifted you from his lap and laid you carefully down on the couch.

     He sat between your legs resting on his heels as he gazed down at you. He ran his fingers through his messy hair and let it fall from the top of his head. His lips parted, bruised and puffy from your abuse. His eyes were glazed over, staring intently yet so dazedly at you. His cock strained thick against his pants. Fuck, all of it was making you feel so good all on your own. Just looking at him above you.

     You grabbed your shirt and stripped it over your head impatiently. You didn’t care if you were naked in front of him. You were so hot, needy, and maybe he’d take the hint and take his shirt off. That was a rare sight to see. It was a pity. Yunho had the most handsome pecs and the softest, cutest tummy. Your baby was always insecure about it, though.

     When he didn’t move, his eyes staring in complete awe at your chest, you tugged lightly at his shirt. He didn’t move his eyes from you as he tossed it over his head. You bit your lip, your hand spreading over his stomach as you engraved the sight into your mind. Who knew when he’d let you see it again?

     You quickly took your pants off, leaving you in just your pink panties as you laid back down.

     His hands caressed your thighs gently as he carefully eased your legs open, nice and wide for him. “Should I make you feel good?” he asked stroking your thighs from your hips to your knees to the dip between your thighs and your sensitive area.

     You nodded, sinking deeper into the couch as he placed a tentative thumb on the wet of your panties. He glanced from his slow rubs to your face, watching cluelessly as you breathed softly. 

     “I should just take these off,” you decided, feeling a growing frustration in your core. You needed his hands on you now. He nodded in agreement, slipping his fingers under the elastic before you could do it yourself. He hadn’t even finished getting it off your leg when he stopped to stare down at you. He shivered, exhaling with a trembling breath as he slowly reached down and parted your wet lips, revealing your pretty pussy for him. His hips bucked forward just slightly into nothing as he sat there, gazing pathetically at how wet you were. 

     “Yuyu,” you mumbled, taking one of his hands in both of yours. “Touch it more.” You pressed his fingers flat against you, sliding them slowly through your slick. He shuddered, applying just a bit of pleasure over your clit as you guided him there. You sighed, your hips squirming a bit as a gentle pleasure flowed through you. 

     “So pretty,” he whispered, watching drops of thick slick drip onto the couch and hearing the soft squelch of your juices as he gently circled your clit. His head was beginning to hang as he focused on his movement. Eventually, you let go and allowed him to work you how he wanted. Touch you how he pleased. His messy hair fell in front of his eyes, and you gently pushed up back, holding his hair so he could see well.

     Your moans were soft like sighs and tiny whimpers until he stopped his light pressure on your clit and moved to your hole. He eyed you with each movement, worried he’d hurt you or do something that didn’t feel good. As he slipped a single, long, and slender finger inside, your eyes rolled back with a long moan, and his mind spiraled with how it felt. You were so thick and creamy and warm and tight. How could you have been hiding something so perfect from him?

     “Fuck,” he whispered, his finger pulling out before he could even put it all the way in. “Y/n,” he said with a strange determination. “I change my mind.”

     “What do you mean,” you sighed. “We’re already this far.”

     He grabbed you without a word and twisted you around so you were on top of him again. Only this time, he was laying on the couch, and you were sitting on his chest, your ass practically in his face.

     “Yunho!” you squeaked in shock. “What are you doing?!” You frantically turned around to look at him, but he was long gone, his eyes focused solely on one thing.

     “I don’t want to figure everything out right now,” he mumbled. “I just wanna get to the good part.” 

     “The good part,” you scoffed. “What the hell are you doing?”

     He lifted your hips and pulled them over his face, and your cheeks grew a deep red in embarrassment and confusion and so many overwhelming thoughts. You felt his warm breath against your core, and your thighs trembled, unsure of what to do. He gently pulled you lower until your pussy was aligned with his puffy lips. You whimpered as he gave you a soft kiss.

     “Yuyu,” you mumbled, slowly lowering your chest to his stomach as your limbs started to grow weak.

     He licked a slow, fat strip between your lips, and you jolted at the wet, lude, so fucking pleasurable sensation. You raised your hips, your brows curling and mouth falling agape, but he wrapped his hands around your thighs and pulled you back down with a long groan as he did it again.

     “Fuck,” you whimpered, your voice raising an octave as your entire body trembled in his hold. It felt so good, so vulnerable, but it made it feel even better. His soft vibrations as he breathed and groaned against your core… fuck he was so hot. “Keep going,” you mumbled, your cheek pressing against his bare stomach as you let the sensation take over your senses. He kissed you and licked you in that same area you’d shown him with your hands, rolling his lips and tongue over your clit with a gentle yet eager pressure. You had to grind your pussy against his mouth. For your sanity, you had to. You were moaning and whimpering with each rhythmic roll and lick and kiss. He was fucking drowning, and he loved it, and he was eating you like the sweetest dessert, desperate to swallow every last drop. 

     If it was so easy for him, though, it couldn’t be too hard for you either. I mean, it was just sitting there, straining against his pants. You couldn’t not be curious. 

     You mustered the strength to sit up a bit and fumbled with his pants until you unzipped the zipper and unbuttoned the button. It took you much longer than it should’ve, but your hands were fucking shaking, your eyes were watering, and your mind kept shifting back to the beautiful man lapping at your pussy. Fuck, it felt so good.

     But once his length sprung loose from his pants, you wanted it inside of you. You didn’t know how big was big, but Yunho was big. It was veiny and worked up from all of the teasing, and you wanted to make him feel so good. Make you both feel good by getting it deep inside of you. But, for now, you should return the favor to your hardworking man. 

     You wrapped an eager hand around him, not sure how much pressure to apply, but by the way his hips bucked up into your hand, you were probably doing something right. You moved from the bottom to the tip slowly, smiling slightly as you saw a little bead of precum at the top. Was he liking it? You were sure he’d like anything you did to him, but he was making you feel so good. You should reward him, right?

     You swiped your thumb over the tip and spread the new lubricant around, a soft squelch delighting your ears as you set a slow rhythm. His mouthwork faltered and turned more into heavy breaths against your core. His hips were trembling with little uncontrolled rolls into the air for more friction.

     “Fuck, baby,” he groaned, giving little kisses to your clit that sent gentle bits of pleasure throughout your body. 

      “You’re really big, Yuyu,” you whispered, licking your lips as you prepared to dive in for your treat. “You think I can take it all?”

     “I don’t know,” he sighed. “You’re so tight here. I can hardly fit my tongue in.” He gave a show of sliding his sopping tongue slowly into your clenching hole, and you whimpered, grinding your pussy pathetically on his mouth.

     “Just get me nice and loose, okay?” you panted. “I’m gonna get it all inside.”

     You flattened your tongue along its length, licking from the base to the tip before pressing the tip between your lips. He was so thick, stretching your mouth just slightly as you circled your tongue around him. His hands gripped your thighs with muffled whines as he opened you up slowly on his tongue.

     “You even taste handsome,” you mumbled before taking him in your mouth again.

     You pushed just a bit deeper, keeping your hands flat on his hips in case he felt too good and accidentally choked you on his handsome cock. Yunho’s fingers made your loose mouth tighten just a bit along his length as he inserted a finger into your tight hole, and he hissed lightly. As he set a slow pace, feeling around your drenched hole for anything that felt really good, you set a pace, too, with your little head bobs. Although you couldn’t go too far down, you stroked the rest of his length with your hand.

     He let out tiny gasps and low groans as you worked him toward ecstasy. And, fuck, you could feel it too. Everything was building up. He could hardly drink everything you were leaking as he pushed two fingers in, thrusting against your gooshy walls and pulling moans from your lips. The vibrations sent shivers of pleasure through him, which made him work harder. You were pulling each other toward climax quickly, but that’s not what you wanted.

     His fingers left your hole as your body lifted from his. You wanted the pleasure back as soon as it went away, but you knew there was something so, so much better waiting for you.

     “Fuck, this is taking too long,” you groaned as you flipped over until he was between your legs once again. 

     He giggled at your impatience, but his cock was practically begging for some sort of relief before it started hurting with how hard it was. You were both desperate, not even thinking anymore. Who cared if this was your first time? The feeling was all the same. You needed to be connected. Right fucking now.

     “Fuck, put it in,” you panted, pulling him by his neck flush against you. 

     He chuckled, giving you a soft kiss on your cheek, then your neck, then your ear. “It'll hurt, baby. Even I know you’re not ready.” You groaned as he pushed two fingers into your hole, setting a quick pace as he sensed your impatience. “I’ll give you what you want,” he sighed, “if you cum once.”

     Your eyes widened. “Seriously?” You scoffed. “You don’t want our first orgasms to be together?” You fluttered your lashes as he shook his head in disbelief. He pushed in another finger, and you tensed up a bit as he began to actually stretch you open.

     “This won’t be my first,” he whispered, scissoring his fingers against your walls as you breathed heavily against his ear, gasping out of shock and jolts of pleasure. 

     “Are you serious??”

     “Ever since Sannie mentioned us having sex, I’ve been so fucking horny,” he chuckled. “I think, like, every night, I went to the bathroom and came while thinking about you.”

     His fingers were almost forced out of you as you clenched down on them, a deep blush covering your cheeks as he glanced toward you teasingly. 

     “You like that?” he asked, curling his fingers up as he thrust them in faster and faster. Your head buried into the couch cushion as you panted and moaned, lifting your hips to meet his fingers desperately. The pleasure was building, and every time he fucked his fingers into that one spot, you thought you’d fall apart right there. When he finally figured out that perfect spot, he rammed his fingers into it repeatedly until you were gasping for air as your entire body squirmed, working toward that release. 

     “Fuck, fuck, fuck-!” you whined, “Yunho~” He kissed you gently, nibbling on your neck as he grunted softly, using all of his strength to keep his rhythm as your eyes rolled back, body trembling. The pleasure built and built until everything fucking crashed, and your nails dug into his arms as you came with a long cry. He rode out your high, stroking your walls gently before pulling his fingers out quickly. 

     “Good girl,” he sighed, kissing your forehead as you whimpered, trying to calm down. Your eyes could hardly focus on one thing, your eyes fuzzy and brain scrambled. “I’ll give you what you want,” he mumbled. “Such a good girl…”

     His cock pressed against your hole, and it pushed just slightly inside. You winced, your eyes squinting at the oddly painful stretch. I mean, you knew it would be painful, but this was a bit unnecessary, right…? 

     Yunho stopped and lifted his head with a small smile on his lips, and, as much as it felt much better to stay still than to move, you wanted to get to the part that felt good. 

     “Baby, please?” you whispered, looking from one eye to another as you fought the urge to just get on top of him and put it in yourself.

     “Did I make you feel good?” he asked, pointing to his lips. “With my mouth?”

     You nodded immediately. “Yup, it felt so good.” It did, but that didn’t fucking matter right then.

     “You tasted really good,” he mumbled. “And your mouth…” he licked his lips, “...felt so good. So wet and tight.”

     “My pussy will feel even better, baby, please.” You didn’t want to whine or beg, but this was getting ridiculous.

     “Your pussy likes me, I think,” he thought aloud. “You know it flutters when I do something it likes. I wonder what that’ll feel like when I’m inside.”

     As his hips became flush with yours, you whimpered in slight confusion, a bit uncomfortable, but mostly confused, and also so, so fucking full. He was shivering softly, but you couldn’t find yourself having such small reactions. He was enveloping you completely, filling you to the brim, and your entire body was tense and limp, weak but so hyper at the same time. 

     Your fingers grabbed his hair with one hand and gripped his shoulder with the other, your mouth agape as you brought him closer frantically. You pulled his chest to yours, his face to your neck, your leg around his hip.

     It wasn’t because it hurt at all. It just felt so inexplicably good that you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You wanted him to move so bad, but you couldn’t let him move or you'd completely lose yourself to pleasure. 

     “Yunho,” you whimpered, holding him tighter, desperately. “Yuyu, fuck… ’s so go..ood… j’s stay here… stay here, b…by, ‘s so good~”

     He could hardly understand you, but he was so glad you weren’t letting him move. He would cum right then and there. You were so tight. So tense, squeezing him like crazy. You were so warm and wet… It was clouding his mind. Even locked down like this, his hips couldn't help gently grinding against you, looking for any kind of friction. 

     He wanted to pound into you, fuck. He wanted to watch you go crazy. He hadn’t even done anything yet. Imagine what you’d look like, completely broken and fucked out, overtaken by your desire.

     “Can I kiss you, baby?” You nodded quickly, letting him lift his head so he could smash his puffy lips to yours. He untangled your limbs from his and wasted no time in slowly shifting his cock in your sopping hole. He groaned happily, rolling his eyes back as he ground inside of you in little pulses. 

     “Yuyu~” you whined. “Please, please, baby…” You kissed him hard before he could speak, desperately pushing your hips against him. “More... Fuck~” you whimpered, your fingers running through his hair as your tongues lapped and tangled together desperately.

     Finally… FINALLY, he set a rhythm, slow and trembling, as you panted against each other’s lips. He rolled his hips, his hips gently tapping yours with each slide in. He reached so far, your pussy tight around him, sending shivers throughout your bodies. You bit your lip as breathy moans escaped. 

     He cursed under his breath, whimpering as he kissed you lazily, picking up the speed of his thrusts. As your hips collided with more force, your moans matched the pace, and he basked in your pretty noises, hardly able to contain his own. 

     His hands slid along your body and squeezed your soft stomach gently, gripping you as he thrusted harder. “Everyday,” he groaned, kissing your ear. “We’ll do this every day.”

     “Okay,” you panted, your eyes rolling back with a squeak as he hit that perfect spot with a particularly hard thrust. “Mm… Yuyu… ngh~ you’re doing so good~”

     “Yeah?” he mumbled, sitting up on his legs. It was cold, but the sight of your tits bouncing, your fucked out expression… you were so ruined.

     “Yeah, baby~” you hummed.

     “I’ve wanted to fill you up for a.. hh… while now,” he grunted. “Thought about your pretty pussy taking my cock.”

     “Me too mmm~” His brows curled as he took steadying breaths. 

     “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he groaned.

     “I wan’d t-to touch you s…o bad,” you moaned, pushing your hips in the air as his pace quickened, his hands grabbing your thighs and pulling you closer. “Thought I was being bad,” you panted. “But yo…ou were being bad too, huh?” You tried to give a playful smirk, but it faded quickly. 

     He nodded eagerly, his head dropping each thrust and little noise from your lips brought him so close to cumming. He desperately brought his fingers to your clit, circling the nub until you were a moaning mess, practically screaming and gasping as he slammed his hips against yours. 

     “Cum, baby, please?” he begged, biting his lip as you fluttered around him clenching and teasing as you were getting so, so close. “Come on,” he whimpered. “Wanna f-feel you, please.. ngh~”

     Your hips were squirming, jaw dropped as the pleasure built. You could hardly see through your tears, your clit adding to the pleasure of each of his ecstatic thrusts. Fuck, you were so close… so close… fuck, it felt so good.

     “Yu-ngh yuyu ah~ baby, don’t stop,” you moaned, your eyes squeezing shut forcefully as your pleasure reached its peak for the secind time that night, your body spasming as you creamed on his cock, your juices spilling from your hole and soaking the both of you. 

     He stilled after a single thrust in your clenched, orgasm-filled hole, whimpering and moaning as his cum spilled into you. He was trembling as he kept cumming hard and long, both of you panting as you tried to calm down. Your hearts were beating, cheeks wet with overwhelmed tears. He pulled out with a shudder and collapsed beside you, pulling you to his chest as he was hit with the raw cold air.

     You were shivering, wrapped in his arms as you tried to clear your head. You were content there, your mind fuzzy and limbs trembling. You were both completely exhausted, but Yunho took the initiative to bring you both to your feet and drag your legs toward the shower. 

     He wiped you both up, laid you both down on the bed, snuggled up in your blanket, and you were both instantly asleep.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     “Y/n~ Yunho~” San whined as he trudged into your bedroom. “Jongho was being mean to me again~” 

     Your eyes were hardly opening when San was inviting himself onto the bed. But he stopped as he saw Yunho’s shirtless body wrapped around your shirtless body. He gasped, nearly falling off the bed.

     “Y/n!” he yelled, and Yunho was spooked awake, raising his head in shock with his eyes hardly open. “Did he force himself on you?! You can tell me! I’ll get him fucking killed!” He pointed at Yunho angrily, but you just rolled your eyes, snuggling back into your pillow.

     “Sannie?” Yunho mumbled, trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes. “What are you doing here? Did you have a bad dream again?”

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊° ~ ♡

     The van was rowdy and noisy when you and Yunho hopped in. You sat beside him with a giddy smile, holding his hand as you all rode to your hideout as usual. 

     “Aw~ they’re so cute,” Seonghwa cooed. “You guys are the ideal romance. So wholesome and perfect.” He grinned at you, and you blushed lightly.

     “Than-”

     “No, they have sex now,” Jongho interrupted. “Everyone knows that.”

[riverssongs13]

While we're all agonising over waiting for the last 2 episodes, I'd like to take this time to talk about how Lilia Calderu, seer extraordinaire, Queen of Cups, singlehandedly waged war against the harmful stereotypes witches have endured in literature, in history, and in any and all media in general. This endeavour requires a rewatch of all the episodes but I'm just going to eyeball it by what I can remember for now.

In episode 3 Through Many Miles of Tricks and Trials, Mrs. Hart, maiden bless her soul, said "A witch is really just another name for a bad girl, is that right?" Lilia immediately says, "That is extremely reductive. We are not a monolith."

Lilia is the oldest member of the coven (after Death, I guess), and it goes without saying she has lived through and experienced all the horrible things witches were subjected to throughout history. In which, I would like to posit a slight correction: she has lived through all the horrible things POWERFUL WOMEN experienced under the hands of misogyny and patriarchy.

In episode 5, Darkest Hour Wake Thy Power, the coven was being actively chased by the Salem Seven, and needed a quick escape from The Road. Teen, with his precious innocent soul, suggested they fly to escape their pursuers. After getting very negative feedback from the coven, Lilia explains how "brooms have been co-opted by the holiday industrial complex as an absurd emblem of our culture, and an obvious symbol of female domesticity."

Death's Hand In Mine, episode 7, also had Lilia commenting on how "demeaning" it was to be portrayed as wearing the typical witchy trope costumes when they got inside the Tower. Quite tongue-in-cheek as well how Lilia was Glinda the "good witch" while Jen was the Evil Queen in witch disguise.

Going back to episode 3, it was also Lilia who vehemently refused to "climb inside an oven" after completing their first Trial. She added that the same thing happened to a friend, one with a lovely house, and ended up, well, we can recall what happened to the supposed "captor" of Hansel and Gretel.

In episode 4, If I Can't Reach You…, it wasn't so much as Lilia mouthing off another witchy trope, but her inside the recording studio. The powerful image of her looking at the portraits of all the women who were persecuted during the countless witch-hunts throughout history. The abject horror of being thrown into these witch trials by mere suggestions, and these women were oft sentenced to the most horrific deaths even without evidence. Lilia looking at these women being burnt at the stake, boiled alive in a vat of tar, maimed, flayed, and I wonder how many of these scenarios are being played from memory.

Within the same episode Lilia said, "You know the worst part of being a witch? All the misconceptions and rumour mongering." And this basically sums up the experience of witches around the world -- of POWERFUL WOMEN -- present yourself with even a modicum of power, motivation, and ambition, and if that threatens the fragile ego of man, you best believe you'd be persecuted for it. (I find it even a more compelling message after having re-watched Patti's character in Penny Dreadful, burned at the stake for standing up against a man. Great show. Check that one out.)

I'm certain there are more instances I'm unable to recall and include, but right now I'm swimming in anticipation and anxiety over the last 2 episodes, I honestly do not wish to pore over the previous ones with a fine tooth comb. I may do that in the future, but today is not that day.

Which is to say, I love how Lilia has played the part of the wise sage correcting all the wrongs her kind has resolutely endured for countless centuries. I love how women are slowly being given back the power in their own narratives, without the need to insert the story of man for it to be relevant. I love how this show is very unapologetically queer, and about women, and about reclaiming that power taken away from them.

To add cherry on top, I love how Patti LuPone herself said in a recent interview, that the whole show is making it about "what we are initially: we're all witches because we are powerful women; women are powerful. The power has been robbed from them for centuries. BY MEN. Its kind of great to see a show that represents witches as women with power."

We may be lightyears away from an ideal society where women are no longer oppressed and boxed within their own existence at the insistence of men who wish to reduce them into something they could fit within their egos and minds, but it's quite nice to think that this show about a ragtag team of women and a teenage boy is taking a step into the right direction.

Thank you, Lilia Calderu and Patti LuPone, we all say in unison.

[rosyhoneydew]

👻 Trick or treat 🎃

Teeheehee :) a halloween BT drabble for u, lorri 🫶 Bucktommy | G | 642 words | Medium-sized spoilers for the movie The Others, which is a wonderful movie that everyone should watch

It was silly. Really. Tommy used to watch stuff much scarier than this, back when he'd thought it would impress any of his dates. But he doesn't need to worry about impressing Evan, they're on equal ground, both comfortable being who they are with each other, so he'd been honest about his taste for romcoms early on. It was Halloween week, though, and Evan had been more and more into ghost stories lately with the successful putting to rest of Mr. McCurdy.

So they had been working their way through a list steadily all week. Poltergeist, Paranormal Activity, The Sixth Sense, and tonight The Others. It wasn't the flashiest of the movies they'd watched, but it had sucked them both in from the start, the mystery and ghoulishness of the story a captivating mix that had them on the edge of their seats.

He hadn't realized how on edge he was until Evan got up to brush his teeth and ready for bed, assuming that Tommy would lock up the house, like usual. Of course he would, it's just their house. And it's stupid to think that it's somehow scarier just because they watched a scary movie. If they'd watched When Harry Met Sally he wouldn't think twice about it, but they didn't so he does. Still, he listens for Evan's footsteps padding down the hall to their bedroom and into their bathroom and sets to shutting the house down.

He starts small, he turns off the TV, refusing to look into the shiny, dark mirror it creates when it's no longer displaying a list of recommended movies. Then he makes his way to the front door, checking the lock and, in an act of bravery, peeking outside before turning the porch light off. He toes along the wall, checking the windows, shutting the blinds, refusing to have his back to any one corner for too long.

He's just about finished turning off the lights in the kitchen and living room, and he's mostly calmed down when he hears a thud from their bedroom.

"Evan?"

Nothing.

He could still be brushing his teeth, unable to respond, or… he thinks irrationally of the cold shock he'd felt at seeing the maids float through the wall in the movie, as if it wasn't even there. He dashes into the bedroom, heart thumping, and slams the door shut behind him. He locks that door too, on instinct and without even looking behind him.

When he gets his bearings he spots Evan. He's hunched by the bed, massaging his toe and looking wide-eyed at Tommy.

"You okay?" he asks, standing up gingerly.

"Yeah." God, he's out of breath. In the cozy lamplight of their room, he manages to huff out a laugh of relief. "I guess I should be asking you that."

"Ah, banged by toe," Evan says, pouting a little.

"Need me to kiss it better?"

Evan smiles. "Aw, you'd kiss my dirty foot?"

Tommy scrunches his nose, before making his way to Evan. He kisses him once on the lips to soften his next line. "Hmm, maybe not. I've seen the claws you've got down there."

Evan mocks offense, rolling his eyes before he drops the act and kisses Tommy a few more times. Peck, peck, peck.

"Were you scared?" he asks when he pulls back. He's got a mix of a teasing and sympathetic smile on that Tommy shakes his head at.

"The scene with the little girl freaked us both out, if you recall."

Evan laughs and the sound is so bright and giddy Tommy has to join in.

"Don't worry, baby," he says. "I'll keep you safe."

He means it as another tease, but when Tommy reaches for the fear he felt before he finds it melted away. There's nowhere in this world he feels safer than when he's with Evan.

ask box trick-or-treat 🎃

[fatgirlonadate-blog]

21 Days - Day 12

In the two weeks since your mission started, the only thing you've managed to gain is a couple of orgasms and a handful of hickeys. While those were not something to complain about, it certainly wasn't going to impress Jenna tomorrow. The two of you need something - some small scrap of information - to report, and it isn't just magically going to appear with the two of you sitting around the house all day.

While your neighbors are major gossips and you've heard more than you ever wanted to know about the woman next door who puts trash in the recycling and the conspiracy about the mailman possibly stealing all of the best coupons, they have yet to share any actual useful information. It's highly likely that they know or at least have come into contact with your suspect, but relying on them for a lead hasn't produced anything useful. It's time to actively start doing something other than waiting around for clues to fall into your lap.

A distraction would also be helpful. There's been a storm brewing in your heart since Sylus walked away from you yesterday, and the longer you dwell on it the more it threatens to turn into a hurricane. He hasn't texted or called. No mysterious packages have arrived, and there's been no sign of Mephisto at your window. He feels oddly absent. Maybe it felt like a goodbye because, deep down, that’s exactly what it was—a goodbye.

You shake your head, forcing the thoughts of him from your mind. Focus. Distraction. Focused distraction. That's all you need. And maybe a stiff drink wouldn’t hurt, either.

"Xavier," You call to him, slipping your phone into your pocket as you enter the cozy living room. "You hungry?"

He glances over at you from his spot on the couch, his eyes lighting up as if you've handed him a winning lottery ticket. "Always."

"We could go out. I saw a bar in town while I was shopping yesterday. We can use it as an excuse to eavesdrop. And," you add, sweetening your offer, "I'll even buy you a drink."

Xavier sits up, his white hoodie bunching at his elbows, "Hmm. What happened to never drinking again?"

You roll your eyes at him as you join him on the couch, pulling your legs up onto the cushions and tucking your feet under his warm thighs, "Oh, that? Someone else must have said that. Must have been your other fake wife."

Xavier's laugh rings through the room as he grasps your ankles and pulls you across the couch until your thighs are in his lap. His fingers are already at your waist, poking and threatening tickles as he says, "My other wife? I'm pretty sure I only have one. And I'll end up carrying her home tonight if we go to a bar."

You giggle and scream as he pulls you closer to his lap, squirming against his playful hold with no intention to actually break free.

"That's not true!" You pout at him, trying to give him your own version of puppy-dog eyes. "Besides, that's only happened like three times. And it won't ever be happening again!"

"I highly doubt that," he teases, releasing your waist and resting his hands on your thighs. "You're such a lightweight, Mrs. Shen."

It's hard to argue with the truth, so you settle for pinching his face, "Come on. Get dressed. The sooner we leave, the sooner you'll eat."

"Okay, okay," Xavier says, ducking away from your fingers and shifting your legs off his lap, "What's wrong with what I'm wearing now?"

You eye his outfit with an exaggerated frown - gray sweatpants and a white hoodie. "Nothing, if you want to look like you're 12. We're newlyweds and you're supposed to be a brooding author. You could at least try to look the part."

Xavier's laughter is warm as he gets up from the couch, "You know, you're really bossy when you're hungry."

He's already walking down the hall before you can respond, and you watch him disappear into the bathroom with a goofy smile plastered across your face. It still feels surreal to be able to do things like this with him. Every casual touch, every brush of his lips against yours, and every time you wake up in the middle of the night and he's there next to you. It's almost easy to forget the mission - to pretend that you really are married to him and that this is where you belong. You're not sure how you're ever going to be able to give this up, not when it already feels like home.

You pluck at your own clothes and wonder if you should change. The jeans and sweater are cute, but if he's going to look the part then you should probably match. You bite at your bottom lip, considering your options, before heading to the bedroom to pick out an outfit.

Seeing your clothes next to his in the closet still never fails to make you smile. You scan the selection trying to find something between 'small-town wife' and 'hot newlywed.' The latter wins, and you quickly slip into a mid-length black dress before you can change your mind. The dress is simple and unadorned, but it's pretty and the skirt has just enough flair to accentuate your waist. It still needs something though - a little flash of color or sparkle to make it clear that this is a date and not a funeral.

You're searching through your bedside table for a necklace as Xavier enters the room. You glance toward him to see him freshly showered with a towel wrapped around his hips. The way the water droplets trace a path from his neck down over the contours of his chest as he towels his hair nearly makes you forget whatever it was you were doing. The necklace. Right. You choose the first one your eyes land on and begin to fiddle with it, averting your gaze as his hands move to the towel around his waist.

It's probably silly to feel shy about changing in front of each other at this point, but it's still new and the boundaries are unclear. Only Xavier could demand you moan his name one night and then blush when he catches you staring at him for too long the next. It's confusing and adorable, just like everything else about him.

"Let me help," he offers, coming to stand behind you as you struggle with the clasp of the necklace.

He takes it from your hands and gathers your hair to one side, sweeping it over your shoulder to get it out of the way. His fingers are warm against the back of your neck as he deftly fastens the clasp into place. They trail from your neck to your shoulders as he gently turns you around to face him.

"You're so pretty," he says, his voice soft and full of affection. He traces the thin silver chain around your neck, his fingers stopping at the diamond snowflake pendant in the center, "This is nice. I've never seen you wear it before."

"Oh," you say, forcing nonchalance into your tone. "I don't usually have a reason to wear it. It was a Christmas gift."

Xavier's fingers pause against your skin, his eyes narrowing slightly, "From who?"

The urge to lie surprises you for a moment; hadn't you already learned your lesson with the handcuffs? So you settle on the truth, "From Zayne. The doctor you met a couple of days ago."

He snorts as he pulls his hand away from your neck and walks toward the closet. "He gives you candy and buys you necklaces? No wonder he is your favorite doctor."

The pout in his voice would be adorable if not for the tension in his shoulders and stiffness in his arms as he yanks a shirt off the hanger and begins to pull it on. It's hard to resist the urge to tease him as you cross the room and slide your hand along his shoulders, urging him to turn and face you.

"He is my only doctor," you say firmly, finding the first button on his shirt and working your way up as you fasten them, "And we have known each other since we were children. As friends. Only friends."

Xavier looks down at you with dejected eyes as you flip his collar into place and smooth out the blue button-down shirt, "I don't give my friends jewelry."

"Oh, you don't?" You say with a smile, poking at his pouted lips until he laughs, "Then why did you give me a bracelet from the arcade last month?"

"That's different," he argues, pulling away from your playful hands and rolling up the cuffs on his shirt.

"Is it?" You tease him.

He's silent as he tucks his shirt in and loops his belt around his black pants, but you can imagine his excuse anyway. If he weren't so busy pouting he'd say that the arcade bracelet was a toy and not a $3,000 piece of jewelry.

"It is different," he finally says, interrupting your thoughts as he fastens his belt. "We were never just friends."

The earnestness in his voice makes your stomach flutter, and you nod in silent understanding as you reach your hands behind your neck to grasp for the clasp.

"Don't," Xavier says quickly, stepping forward and pulling your wrists away from your neck. "It looks good on you."

You blink confusedly at him, surprised at his change of heart, "You're not jealous?"

"I am," He admits, laughing softly as he raises his hand to trail his fingers along the hickeys that dot your neck, "But you're wearing something of mine, too."

Heat floods your cheeks as you understand his meaning, and you playfully slap his hand away from your neck and adjust your hair to fall around your throat concealing his marks. His eyes follow your movements, and the smile that curves his lips borders on prideful.

"Come on, Mr. Shen. I'm starving," you say, grabbing his arm and leading him toward the door.

The bar is surprisingly packed when you arrive, and the warmth is welcome after the chilly walk from the apartment. You scope out the room quickly, noting the various couples seated at tables and even more people gathered around the bar. There's a rowdy group of guys occupying the pool tables, and the faint sound music is coming from somewhere.

Xavier slips his arm around your waist and guides you toward the empty table closest to the bar. It's the perfect spot to see or overhear something, and that's exactly what you're here for.

"Food first, then work," Xavier says, pulling your chair out for you to sit.

"I'm perfectly capable of sitting in a chair on my own," you attempt to grumble, but can't keep from smiling as you take your seat. He really is the most charming man you've ever met.

Xavier's smile lights up his face as he sits in the chair across from you. He leans across the small table, and whispers, "I'm your husband, remember? I'm supposed to take care of you. Let me."

The amount of chicken wings Xavier orders could feed a family of five, and he digs in like he hasn't eaten in days. You nibble on a French fry while watching him devour his plate. The way he eats is adorable, and you add learning to cook to your growing list of priorities.

You're trying not to laugh as he takes a massive bite of his third wing and washes it down with a large gulp of his beer. You're caught staring as he sets it down with an easy smile.

"Do you want some?" he asks, nodding his head toward the plate as he licks barbecue sauce off of his fingers.

There's no reason for the action to be so hot, but you swallow hard as you watch his mouth close around his thumb and suck the sauce off with a wet pop. The memory of the last time he'd sucked on his fingers plays through his mind, and yes, you do certainly want something. But not chicken wings. 

He looks good enough to eat tonight. He always looks good, but it's so different to see him dressed in anything other than comfy clothes or his Hunter's uniform. The light blue dress shirt is clinging to him in all of the right places, accentuating his toned chest and strong arms. The sleeves rolled back expose his forearms, and he's not wearing a tie - but the open top button and the way the fabric pulls around his broad shoulders make it even better. It's truly not fair that he can be so effortlessly attractive without even being aware of it.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He asks, his eyes innocent and his brows furrowed. "Do I have food on my face?"

You nod, and lean across the small table to reach out to wipe the non-existent smear from his face. It's just an excuse to touch him, and your fingers linger as you trail them from the corner of his lips up to his ear and give it a small tug.

"Why do I feel like there was never anything on my face?" He says, laughing, tilting his head away from your mischievous fingers.

"I'm your wife," you quip, pulling your hand back and picking up your fork, "Am I not allowed to touch you?"

"You are," he answers, his eyes heating and drifting down to your lips, "As much as you'd like."

Warmth flares to life low in your stomach at the rough, promising tone in his voice. But his words aren't true - not really, a nagging voice whispers in the back of your mind. Things have certainly become more intimate between the two of you, but you have yet to even see him naked let alone touch him wherever or as much as you'd like. There's something holding him back - like there always is when it comes to him, and trying to figure it out is like trying to fit two completely different puzzles together. There's the Xavier who can't ever get enough of you and the Xavier who keeps you at an arm's length.

"So," you say, clearing your throat and your thoughts, "What's the plan, captain?"

He smiles, the heat in his gaze extinguishing, and you can almost see the shift in his demeanor as he slips back into Hunter-mode. His posture straightens and his eyes sharpen as he surveys the room. He's already shifting to stand as he lands on his target.

"I'll get some drinks from the bar. It'll give me an excuse to chat and maybe overhear something useful."

"Okay. I'll stay here." You say, mostly to yourself, as you watch him walk toward the bar.

He doesn't even make it to the counter before he's caught more than just your attention. The woman beside him smiles as he approaches the bar, and leans in toward him as he speaks. 

She's pretty, you suppose, if someone was into that sort of thing. She's slim with long blonde hair, and wearing a red dress that looks like it belongs in a night club and not a small-town bar. Tacky. It's hard to guess what she's saying at this distance, but whatever it is must be funny because you don't miss the way Xavier's shoulders shake as he laughs.

Irritation coils around your spine and makes a home there as you rigidly sip your drink and watch the interaction play out. You wonder if this is how he feels when you tease him with jokes about other men. It's a new feeling - a bad feeling - and suddenly his pouting and jealousy make a lot more sense.

The blonde woman's hand lands on his arm, and lingers there as they talk. He could move, he could step away or shrug off her touch. But he doesn't, and your glare turns murderous as he bends his head down so she can whisper in his ear. Your nails dig into the armrests of your chair and you're imagining all of the ways to dispose of her body as the bartender finally hands Xavier a tray of drinks.

When he turns back around, his eyes find you immediately, and the bashful smile he gives you melts away some of your desire for homicide. It's silly to feel like that, especially when he looks so excited to make his way back to you.

"I wasn't sure what you wanted," Xavier explains, carefully sitting down the drink-laden tray on the table, "so I ordered a little bit of everything."

Your eyes drift over the two full bottles of wine and the half-dozen cocktails, widening in shock. There's enough alcohol here to fuel an entire frat house.

"Xavier! This must have cost a fortune," you scold, gesturing toward the tray. "This is too much! Are you trying to kill me?"

"I don't come to places like this very often," he admits, a slight blush dusting his cheeks, "I didn't know it would be so expensive. But it's fine. I got it. Besides, you don't have to drink it all."

You raise your eyebrows at him and give him a wolfish smile as you snatch a vodka cranberry from the tray and take a sip. It's crisp and strong, and it's probably your imagination, but you could swear you already feel warmth running through your veins. It's immediately soothing and familiar, and dulls all of the pesky thoughts you'd rather not be having.

"Well, now that it's here, it's not like we can let it go to waste," you tease, draining the glass and reaching for another.

He groans, shaking his head at you, as he pours himself half a glass of wine, "Take it easy. Don't force yourself to drink or you’ll make yourself sick."

He has a point, but you have a habit of not listening to good advice. You know it really isn't a good idea to drink this much. After all, alcohol is a potent neurotoxin. Dr. Zayne would not approve. But Zaynie isn't here; Xavier is. And he has his own habit of letting you get away with things.

"How was your special chat?" You ask, feeling braver with a little liquid courage in your stomach.

"Special chat?" He repeats, brows furrowing as he tentatively sips his wine.

"Yeah, you know," You say, gesturing toward the bar, "the one with the hot blonde who was apparently very, very funny?"

A knowing smile curves his lips as he returns his glass to the table, and his eyes sparkle with obvious amusement.

"She was not very funny," He says softly, reaching across the table to place his hand over yours. "And she also didn't have any useful information."

You snatch your hand out from under his childishly, and tip back your second drink.

"So she wasn't funny," you mutter, "No comment on whether or not she was hot though?"

He laughs and rolls his eyes at you, and then grabs your hand again and holds it firmly, unwilling to let you pull free from his fingers this time. He rubs his thumb over the top of your wrist as you glare at him.

"Are you jealous, Mrs. Shen?"

"No," you answer quickly, your eyes snapping to him, "Of course not."

"Right. Of course not," He says, smiling as he lifts your hand up and presses his lips to your palm, "But if you were jealous, and I know you're definitely not, but if you were...then you should know that I don't even remember what she looked like, and you're the only person I ever want to see."

His words soothe some of the sharp edges of your irritation, and your pout transforms itself into a smile against your will. It's impossible to stay mad at him when his voice is so soft and he looks at you like you're the only thing that exists.

"Good," you say quietly, squeezing his fingers before drawing your hand back to your lap, "That would be good to know, if I were jealous. Which I’m not."

The two of you continue drinking and trying to eavesdrop to the best of your ability. It's difficult because you have so little information about your suspect and it's hard to know what to even listen for. The chatter around the room is mostly poor attempts at flirting and, from what you can tell, complaints about work.

The room begins to feel overly warm as you sip your fourth drink. It's hard to concentrate on the distant voices, and you don't have even a shred of detail to offer Jenna for your status report tomorrow. It's important that you find a way to give her something - you're worried that she might decide this mission is a waste of time and cancel it altogether. And that can't happen. You're not sure that whatever it is that exists between you and Xavier will survive once you return home, and you can't give it up. Not yet. 

"Come on," You command, gripping the table to steady yourself as you rise to your feet. "Let's mingle. I can't hear anything from here. Want to play pool?"

"Only if you're ready to lose," Xavier says, his tone light. But a frown creeps onto his face as he watches you sway as you stand.

"I never lose," You chirp, and tug on his arm, trying to lead him over to the pool tables and the gaggle of people gathered around them.

Xavier halts halfway there, and looks between the sign for the bathrooms and the pool table. You feel the tension grow on the arm you're tugging at as he stops moving forward, and it forces you to turn back and look at him with a question in your eyes.

"I need to run to the bathroom," he says, "Do you need to go?"

You shake your head and release your hold on his arm to set him free. But he hesitates, his eyes shifting from you to the bathroom and back again, looking torn between choices.

"What? Are you afraid to go alone?" You joke, flashing him a cheeky smile.

Xavier sighs and shakes his head, "No. I'll be right back. Just...stay out of trouble, okay?"

He sounds so serious, and the concern in his eyes is cute. But not necessary. You are plenty capable of handling yourself for a few moments without him.

"I'll try," you answer with a roll of your eyes, turning on your heel and walking toward the pool tables.

There are several guys in various stages of drunkenness playing a round of pool. One of them is bent over the table lining up a shot, and the others seem to be enjoying giving him a hard time. You smile politely as they glance over at you, and then breeze past them to select a pool stick from the stand on the wall. It's been a while since you've played pool, but you're pretty sure you remember the basics Zayne taught you.

The pool table nearest theirs is free, and perfect for stealthily listening in while they talk. You're awkwardly fiddling with the coin slot on the side of the table when you feel a warm hand slide from your neck down to the small of your back. The caress is familiar, and you lean back into the touch as you turn to ask Xavier if he has any change.

Your question dies in your throat as you're met with dark, shaggy hair and a face you don't recognize. You instinctively flinch away from the stranger, but his hand at your back doesn't leave much room to escape.

The man's gaze rakes down your body, and a smirk tugs at his lips as he meets your eyes again. He's tall and broad, and smells distinctly of whiskey and stale cigarette smoke.

"You look like you want to play. Need a partner?" He offers, his tone suggestive, as he leans in closer to your face.

You'd rather fight 100 wanderers back to back than spend a single moment with this man. You know the feeling must be written all over your face as you force a tight smile and try to pull away, glancing desperately toward the bathrooms.

"No, thank you. I'm waiting on someone."

"Ah, don't be like that, sweetheart," he says, bringing his free hand up to tilt your face back to his. "The more the merrier."

Tendrils of fear and irritation battle and knot in your stomach as his hands tighten against you, preventing you from moving. Irritation wins out, and you push against his chest hard. It's not enough to move him, but his cocky smile fades into a frown as his eyes harden on yours.

"Get away from me," you bite out, glaring up into his eyes.

You're wondering how much trouble you'd get in if you broke his nose as Xavier steps in from the side and shoves the guy hard enough that he stumbles backwards.

"Don't fucking touch my wife," Xavier says, his voice is quiet but his tone promises violence.

Relief floods your body as Xavier wraps an arm around you, but it's short lived as the other man takes a step closer, glaring at Xavier and rolling his neck to the side. There's too much alcohol and testosterone in the room, and you can practically smell the fight that's simmering between the two of them.

The other man is taller and broader than Xavier, but you almost feel bad for him as Xavier steps in front of you and the air in the room begins to feel electric. This isn't going to end well for anyone. Particularly not this asshole.

"Why don't you go back to your friends," You suggest quickly to the man, grasping Xavier's arm tightly in your hand. "They're waiting for you."

"Why don't you shut the fuck up?" the man spits at out at you, his glare on your eyes now rather than Xavier's.

It's hard to keep up with how fast Xavier moves, but in a blink the man is laying on the floor groaning, his nose bleeding, and the rest of his group is yelling and starting to gather around you.

"Xavier!" You yell, grabbing onto his shirt and trying to pull him backward as the man on the floor gets up.

Xavier is tense and unmoving, his eyes locked on the group of men beginning to crowd around their friend. The hair on your arms stands on end as static pulses around him. You're not sure if he even realizes that he's about to use his evol, and if he loses control there's no way that you'll be able to hide it. Everyone in the bar will see, and your cover will be blown.

"Xavier, come on." You urge him, "I don't feel good. Let's go home."

He turns to you at that, his eyes softening slightly as they focus on your face, and the crackling energy dissipates from the air. He nods silently, slips his hand into yours, and begins to pull you toward the exit, ignoring the shouts of the men behind you. 

The cold Autumn air stings your lungs as you make your way out the door, but it's a welcome change from the stifling heat and tension from inside of the bar. Xavier is still tense and pulling you along behind him as you try to keep pace.

"I cannot believe you just did that," you say between breaths, your head spinning and the world blurring around you as you stumble over the sidewalk.

Xavier stops as he feels your wobbly gait, and turns to steady you with his hands. His gaze is soft and worried as he searches your face, like he's finally able to really see you for the first time in the last few moments. His shoulders sag and he reaches up to brush your hair out of your face.

"Are you okay?" He asks softly.

"I'm okay," You laugh, "But I don't think that guy is. What were you thinking?"

His fingers tighten against your cheeks and his eyes narrow, "He shouldn't have touched you, and I won't let anyone talk to you like that."

You smile up at him and shake your head, "I was fine. Really. I was thinking of breaking his nose myself before you got there."

"That's my girl," He says, a smile tugging at his lips.

You laugh, and it's impossible not to feel safe and warm as he wraps his arm around you.

"Why is it that you and trouble always seem to find each other?" He asks, his breath warm against your ear.

"Maybe it's because trouble follows you," You answer, poking at his side, "And I just happen to be there, too."

Xavier sighs dramatically, and releases you from his arms. You watch with furrowed brows as he takes a step back and then kneels on one knee. The confusion must be clear on your face because he laughs as he looks up at you and says, "Hop on. You're too drunk to make it all of the way back without breaking an ankle."

"What? I most certainly can-" you start to argue, but he cuts you off.

"Get on. Let me carry my wife home, just like I said I would."

[amethystwrytes]

Safe. (Part Six)

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin X Fem. Reader X Lee Minho

Summary: A broke ER Nurse offers up her services to a large crime organization in exchange for much higher pay and benefits that are unconventional, but lucrative. The life proves to be questionable at best, and downright isolating at worst which leaves her feeling unsure, unstable and dangerous. 

Warnings: Explicit language. Explicit depictions of sex (some chapters will be more explicit than others sexually). Violence. Blood. Trauma injuries. (Organized) Crime. Emotional manipulation. Discussion of murder and physical assault. Medical inaccuracy galore. Smoking. Past addiction. Legal inaccuracies. 18+ Only MDNI

Chapter WC: 8k

AN: If I were to debate any more over this I just wouldn’t ever post it so F it, it’s out there and now I can’t take it back haha

~ PART SIX ~ (Series M. List Here)

“Is something bothering you lately?”

It’s seven in the morning and you’re tangled up with Minho in bed. After days of being apart, you were relieved to have him next to you. Though Hyunjin was more than able to keep you company (on nearly every surface in the house, no less). But now, Hyunjin is working, or rather has been working. Doing weapons and ammunition deliveries and collection always ends up being a graveyard shift activity, the dark of night used as a cloak to do bad things with bad men. Though you don’t quite understand why they think it’s beneficial, police work at night too, and you often think that doing these weapons deals would be more effective mid-afternoon in the plain of day where no one would expect an arms deal to be taking place, but what do you know? 

“What do you mean?” Minho asks, setting his phone down on the side table and rolling over into you. 

“You’ve been so restless lately, I barely see you sleep, it’s been quiet I thought, since all that happened with Taehyung. Are you uncomfortable sleeping here? We could stay in your apartment,” you suggest, holding his head into your chest, sleepily stroking his hair. 

“My apartment is in the city, loud and lit up 24/7. It’s barely big enough for me, stuffed with boxes and boxes of shit I don’t need, and I can count on my fingers how many times I’ve actually slept there and not just at my office. It’s much better here with you,” he explains. 

“Then why so restless and fidgety?” you wonder. 

“It’s like you said baby, it’s been quiet since the Casino fiasco with Kim, in fact it’s been too quiet. We murdered one of the men who attacked you and I expected that to ignite a whole blood bath, and yet nothing, nothing has happened,” he says, his hand sliding under your nightdress and fanning out over your tummy, tracing gentle circles all over. 

You suppose he’s right. If you had one of those “There’s Been [this many] Days Without an Incident” signs, you could put double digits in the number slots. You haven’t even had to nurse anyone back to health lately. Jisung tripped a few weeks ago walking down the stairs outside his apartment and rolled his ankle. Seungmin got into a bar fight over a girl he’d just met - you cleaned up his face but he didn’t even need stitches. Other than that it had been unusually quiet in your house. 

“Maybe nothing will happen, maybe Kim doesn’t care that you killed the guy,” you say, though even you have to admit it makes zero sense. 

“Mmm,” Minho shakes his head across your chest, “That’s not how it works Love, not by a longshot.” 

“What can you do?” you wonder. 

He braces himself over you with one of his arms and kisses your lips, “All I can do is wait for his next move. If I send my guys after him then all I’m doing is risking their lives for something I’m not even sure of, so I wait, and waiting is sometimes excruciating,” his fingers slide up to one of your breasts and play at your nipple, stiffening the bud of nerves and sending signals between your legs, your lips part and a relaxed breath escapes, “In the meantime, I quite enjoy killing time with you,” he grins. 

He moves on top of you, slotting himself between your legs, you feel his clothed erection press against your cunt as he ruts against you, his mouth exploring your neck, jawline, and lips. 

“Flip,” he growls, his hands heavy and pressing against your hips. You flip onto your stomach, lifting your ass off the bed, pressing yourself against his aching length, you know exactly what he wants. You hear him shuffling, shoving his sleep shorts down and your night dress up your back. You feel him line himself up with you, dragging the head of his cock through your slick. 

You brace yourself, digging your fingers around the thick comforter as he slams into you. You let out a gasp at the sudden roughness, but just as quickly your gasps turn to heady moans, wordlessly pleading for more, for harder thrusts. Minho gives them to you, his fingers impossibly tight around your hips, pushing and pulling himself in and out. 

“Minho…” you say his name, barely a whisper but also a warning. Your fingers move between your legs, rubbing yourself in soft circles so your orgasm explodes around him. He slows his thrusts, allowing your spasming cunt to milk his own high. 

He finally collapses back down on the bed next to you, chest rising and falling heavily as his breath returns to normal. 

“Can I ask a favor?” you open one eye and stare at him. 

“Anything.” 

“I want to learn how to shoot,” you say and he looks at you with a raised brow, “a gun, that is.” 

“Well yes,” he chuckles, “I didn’t think you meant a bow and arrow. I’m just a little surprised I suppose, but I think that’s a good idea,” he nods. 

“Something small, nothing that will knock me off my feet or send me reeling back,” you continue. 

“Mm,” he thinks, “I’ve got a .22 at the office that would be perfect for you. I have a meeting with Hyunjin and Felix this morning, to see how the evening collections went. I’ll send Hyunjin over with the gun after, once he gets some rest he can take you to the range, maybe tomorrow, that sound good?” 

“Mmhmm,” you yawn, your morning excursions leaving you sleepy again. 

“Go back to sleep baby,” he leans over and kisses you, “I’m going to get dressed, Changbin will be here until Hyunjin arrives later, okay?” 

“Okay,” you whisper, you feel him shift and scoot to the edge of the bed. Maybe it’s because you’re still half asleep, maybe it’s because he fucked you so good, but without really thinking you call to him, “Minho?” 

“Hm?” 

“I love you.” 

It doesn’t surprise nor bother you that he stays quiet as he rises out of the bed and makes his way to the bathroom, you don’t really care if he feels the same or not, don’t really care that he doesn’t seem to want to comment on your confession. At the moment you just sink back into the mattress, letting the warmth of the blankets overtake you and drift off again. 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“Alright Doll,” Hyunjin stands behind you at the gun range, Changbin and Seungmin have tagged along, evidently this is one of their favorite pastimes. “What you want to do above anything else is relax.” 

You snort, “You hear how absurd that sounds, right? Nothing says relaxation quite like being in a situation where I need a loud, dangerous gun.” 

“I meant you need to relax during practice,” he smirks, “If you relax while you’re practicing and get used to hitting your target, it won’t matter what kind of situation you’re in when you need it. You’ll be used to it.” 

“Okay, okay,” you grab the gun and aim at the target, closing one eye and trying to line the barrel up with the big black circle on your target dummy. 

“Why are you closing one eye?” Changbin asks, the three men looking at you puzzled. 

“I…don’t know? That’s how they do it in movies?” you say sheepishly. 

“If you close one eye you’re only going to see half as well, that’s dumb,” Seungmin says. 

“Fine, okay, both eyes open, got it,” you look forward again, your eyes trying to line up the little nub thingie with the target. 

“You’re relying too much on the front sight,” Hyunjin chuckles, “Your eyes look crossed.” 

Changbin and Seungmin giggle and you huff in frustration. 

“You know what I think would be helpful? If I actually got to shoot the damned thing. Let’s start there and then you can give me your critiques, okay?” 

Without giving them an opportunity to answer, you look back, close one eye, try to line the sight up with your target and pull the trigger…and you can’t even see where your bullet went. 

“Alright, so let’s start with number one: you weren’t relaxed whatsoever. Number two: you closed your eye again, and number three: you weren’t even focusing on the target, you were too busy relying on your sight, which is useless if you’re not looking at the target.” 

“Try again,” Changbin smiles enthusiastically. 

Seungmin cocks his gun and points it at the target then unloads several rounds, you look at the end of the range and see he’s hit the dummy multiple times in the head and center of the chest. All fatal wounds. He looks at you smugly and winks. 

You take a deep breath and turn your body towards the target again, picking up your gun and aiming. This time you take a deep breath, you keep both eyes open and pull the trigger. And again, your bullet has flown off into God knows what dimension. 

You look at Hyunjin in frustration and he cackles. 

“Sweetheart you’ve only shot it twice, don’t look so sour. That stance was much better by the way,” he stands behind you again, his hand gently bringing your arm back up to aim at the target. “Keep your other hand under the grip, to keep it steady, okay?” his lips are a little too close to your ear, and you feel his warm breath against your neck. 

“Okay…” you whisper back. Suddenly aware of the warmth. You side eye Changbin and Seungmin, who seem to be having a totally separate conversation as they clean their other guns. 

“Just like sports, you want your body to be facing the target at first, it takes a lot of practice and skill to be able to hit something that you’re not facing head on,” he puts his hands on your hips and lines it up with the target down the range. 

“Now, take a deep breath…just like that…and look at what you want to hit,” he says. You nod and stare at the big black circle in the center of the dummies chest. “Pull the trigger slow and steady while you exhale.” 

You do as he says, you repeat the steps a couple times actually, then finally pull the trigger slowly. 

You don’t hit the circle, but you can see the bullet hole has hit the lower right hip area of the dummy. You’re on the board, so to speak. 

“Look at that,” he whispers in your ear, his hand giving your hip a seductive squeeze, “that’ll do some damn good damage. Good job baby.” 

“Thanks,” you breathe, staring at his lips, “I need to go to the restroom, excuse me,” you say, your hidden fingers dancing across the zipper of Hyunjins pants. He bites his lip and looks down at you wantingly. 

You set the weapon down and dust your hands off on the side of your jeans, then walk out of the shooting range, down the narrow corridor to the rest rooms. You stand in front of the sink, looking at yourself in the mirror, wondering if Hyunjin picked up on your very telepathic message. You’ve got no Earthly idea where this horniness came from, if maybe shooting a weapon is evidently a turn on for you, or if it was the way he was so close, pressed against you, teaching you - either way, you need him, and you need him now. 

You wash your hands, straighten out your hair and just stare at yourself some more. You’re about to give up - it would probably be better to wait until you get home anyway - when the door to the bathroom swings open and Hyunjin barrels in, locking it behind himself. 

“Naughty little girl,” he growls before pressing his lips to yours, immediately pushing you against the sinks, lifting you up to set you on the questionable countertop. “Getting me fucking turned on,” he continues, his mouth trailing down your neck. 

“Fuck me, please,” you whisper. 

“Really?” he looks around, “Here?” 

“Yes,” you start undoing his pants. 

“Shit,” he moans when your hand wraps around his throbbing length. “Yeah, okay, okay, just…here sit on this,” he drags you off the counter and removes his shirt, spreading it over the surface. 

You shimmy out of your jeans and hop back up, pulling him back in and capturing his mouth with yours. 

“God you are dripping wet,” he groans, teasing you with his cock, “Feels so fucking good.” 

“Please,” you beg, your nails digging into his skin. 

He pushes into you and you both gasp. 

“Fuck!” you cry out and he chuckles against you. 

“Shhh, you’ll get us in trouble,” he whispers, his hands holding the sides of your thighs to keep you steady. 

“Feels so good,” you whimper, quietly, into his ear. 

“You’re killing me today…fuck…”

“Shit…like that…oh my god…”

“Hey,” Hyunjin grabs your chin and forces your gaze to his while he continues fucking into you deep and heavy, “I love you, so fucking much.” 

“I love you too,” you pant, “I love you too.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips against his, your cries getting lost in his mouth while you cum for him. 

He frowns at his shirt as he shrugs it back on, “A shooting range bathroom is not as romantic as your book, but I hope I got the point across, and I meant it, by the way, I love you.” 

“It was authentically us, and I meant it too,” you squeeze his hand. 

“I do not accept this dingy ass bathroom is authentically us, I am an artist god dammit,” he teases and you laugh. 

A knock on the door startles both of you and you scrunch your nose as Seungmin hollers, “If you guys are done fucking can we go get some lunch? I’m starving!” 

“Everyone knows, don’t they?” you smile at Hyunjin. 

“Yeah, you’d think it would be a cone of silence but these mother fuckers are nothing but catty gossips…and I suck at keeping my feelings for you hidden,” he says. 

“Good.” 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

Mornings that you get to spend with both Hyunjin and Minho are your favorite. They typically follow a steamy night of unimaginable pleasure, for one, but you also enjoy the peaceful safety you feel when you’re all sitting at the table drinking coffee and chit chatting. It’s comfortable, much more comfortable than you ever imagined it would be. You know that Minho is still struggling with it to some extent, struggling with the relationship. He never commented on your profession of love for him, never brought it up again. It’s confusing, since he never seems to have a problem when all three of you are piled in your bed, limbs tangled, lips everywhere. He’s more than happy then, and more than happy when you’re alone with him. He also doesn’t seem to mind the morning banter over coffee, even now as you watch him talk shop with Hyunjin, a pleasant expression on his face, it all seems fine. 

Yet there are these moments sprinkled into the mix where you can feel his hesitation, feel the withdraw. You don’t feel it with Hyunjin, he’s all in, all the time. Happy as a lark as he sits on the opposite side of the table, sketching something in his notebook, laughing about something that happened on a collection run with Jeongin. You’ve noticed his sketches include a lot more Minho lately, and the expression he draws on him isn’t as dark and dangerous as it once was. 

You decide that in this moment it doesn’t matter, eventually you will have to speak on it, eventually you will have to get Minho to dredge up his feelings. Not right now though. Right now you’re going to drink your coffee and laugh with them and watch Hyunjin draw, and hold Minhos hand under the table. Right now you’re going to enjoy this moment. 

Because unbeknownst to any of the people sitting at the table, the calm before the storm is about to be over. 

It starts with Minho’s phone ringing. He puts it on speaker so he can set the device down and still hold your hand and sip his coffee. 

“You’re on speaker,” he indicates to the caller. 

“Boss,” it’s Changbin, he’s breathless, and sounds as scared as he did the night Hyunjin was stabbed. “We’ve got a problem.” 

Minho lets go of your hand and Hyunjin sets his sketchbook on the table, a serious look on his face as his eyes meet Minhos. 

“How big of a problem?” 

“A really big fucking problem,” Changbin answers. 

Minho knits his eyes closed, “Did we lose anyone?” 

Your very breath leaves your lungs and you could hear a pin drop from two houses down. You try to remain calm as the faces of the men you’ve come to care about flash in your head. You have to force yourself to stop asking if you’ll have to say goodbye to one of them, to more than one…

“No, nobody’s dead,” Changbin pants into the speaker, and the three of you let go of the breaths you’ve been holding, “but Boss…they blew up the fucking warehouse. Jisung and I pulled up after we heard the explosion, Jisung ran in like a fucking idiot - I guess to be sure no one was in there - he burnt his hands and I have Chris driving him to ___ right now but he said it’s all gone, the guns, the ammunition, all of it,” Changbin explains. 

Hyunjins eyes widen, but Minhos expression distorts into such a dangerous anger that it petrifies you. It’s only when his fist comes down hard on the table that you move, running towards the stairs to get dressed and ready to treat whatever burns Jisung has. 

“That’s not all,” Changbin says and you pause.

“What else?” 

“I’m a safe distance away at the moment, but every fucking emergency vehicle in a 100 mile radius is there. Local, federal…every type of investigator you can think of or imagine is over there snooping around what’s left of the building.” 

“God Dammit!” Minho yells so loud it shakes the china in the cabinets. He picks up his coffee mug and throws it with brutal force across the room and it shatters against the wall, leaving a hole in its wake.  

“Get the fuck out of there and meet me here at the safehouse, if you smell like fire go shower first and destroy the clothes you’re wearing so no one can link you to the area. I’m calling my lawyer.” 

Minho disconnects the call and slams the phone down on the table. 

“FUCK.” 

You try to stop your body from shaking and continue upstairs to get dressed. 

There’s Been Zero Days Without an Incident. 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

Minho’s lawyer is a sharp dressed man with thick black glasses named Kim Namjoon. You watch him sip his coffee, a fresh batch you made once you and Hyunjin cleaned up the broken mess from the cup Minho threw against the wall. 

Jisung sits in a chair in front of you as you apply some antibiotic cream to his burns. Nothing too damaging, but his palms will be tender for a week or so, you warn him. 

“As much as I love watching you enjoy your coffee, I’ve got a smoked warehouse and every investigator about to descend on my front door, so let’s just get to it Kim, how fucked am I?” Minho asks after the silence becomes too loud. “Am I looking at prison time?” 

Your hands freeze over Jisungs, “Ouch,” he hisses and you realize you’ve squeezed too hard and look at him apologetically. 

“Actually,” Namjoon sets his mug down, “the silver lining here is that whoever blew your shit up cleared you out of your illegalities. Meaning that as investigators comb through your warehouse, and trust me they are, they aren’t finding anything incriminating. Old slot machines and Casino junk, nothing that can’t be explained since you do in fact own a Casino. Kim Taehyung did you a favor without realizing by stealing the weapons.” 

“Well aren’t I the lucky one? I’ll have to send him a fucking fruit basket then,” Minho seethes. 

“Do whatever you need to do, but we can work with arson and keep the investigators out of your ass as long as the guns are gone, I know that fucks up your other business,” Namjoon raises his brow, “but you know I can’t help you with that.” 

“Yes, well, when I’m dead because I’ve got a target on my back - since six fucking organizations aren’t getting their ammunition and weapons from me on time - you’ll be down a shit ton of money without that cushy retainer I keep you with.” 

“Stop,” Jisung whines and you realize you’ve squeezed his hands again. 

“Sorry,” you hiss, and start bandaging his hands. 

You watch as Minho paces the sitting area, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“We’ve got to get those fucking guns back,” he growls. 

Namjoon interjects, “I can’t be a part of this conversation, but I’ll tell you this, the District Attorney wants your head on a silver platter. You may not officially be charged with anything Lee, but it’s no secret in this city that you’re more than just a Casino owner. So I suggest laying low until this arson investigation is over, they’re going to be on you 24/7, regardless of whether or not they find shit at the warehouse,” Namjoon warns. 

“Do we have anyone in that office?” Minho asks. 

Namjoon shrugs, a smug smile on his face, “Not officially, but I have it on good authority the DA himself gets his dick sucked by a sweet little twenty-something who teaches tennis at the country club he tells his wife he’s golfing at every weekend.” 

Minho chuckles, “Well, hold that dick sucking thing over his head like your life depends on it in exchange for not serving my head on a platter, if we’re lucky maybe Kim Taeyhyung hasn’t got to him first.” 

“Will do, but it does pose a risk, we could just piss him off and he’ll try to work you harder,” he explains. 

Minho shakes his head, “I don’t have anything to lose at this point,” he says, but you don’t miss the way his eyes flick over to you momentarily, “I can’t lay low when I’ve got three quarters of a million dollars in weapons missing.” You’re not sure if he’s explaining himself to Namjoon or you. 

“Alright then,” Namjoon stands and sees himself toward the door, “I’ll play a little dirty for the moment and keep you posted on the investigation. Good luck with that target-on-your-back shit.” 

“Thanks,” Minho deadpans and locks the door. 

Everyone from Christopher to Jeongin sits around the room waiting for Minhos instruction. You busy yourself by cleaning up first aid supplies in the background, totally unsure of where you should be or what you should be doing. Judging by how quiet the rest of them are, you definitely know you shouldn’t be talking. 

“We’ve got to steal those guns back,” Minho repeats himself. 

“It’s a suicide mission,” Hyunjin says with a sigh, folding his arms, “That’s exactly what he wants us to do and he’ll be waiting to take us out.” 

“Yeah? Well what about all the organizations who have already paid for their weapons and ammo this quarter? We might be able to talk some of them into waiting, but Min and Jung are ruthless sons of bitches who will kill us all for not delivering what we already collected on,” Seungmin argues. 

“Now hold up,” Changbin interjects, “We have never lagged on business with them, not even when-” Changbin stops and looks at Minho and you know, not even when Minho was mourning his wife, but he doesn’t say that, “Not even when we’ve been down on our luck. So why would they not be understanding this one time?” 

“Sorry, are you new here?” Seungmin laughs darkly, “You think sending them a ‘Thank you so much for your business, unfortunately we’ve hit a snag’ note is going to matter to them? Why don’t you spray it with your perfume before you send it by doves-”

“Enough!” Minho thunders and the arguing comes to an abrupt halt. “None of you are wrong, there are no options that don’t pose a risk, I don’t want to do this in a way that gets anyone killed.” 

“How much would it cost to just go back to the source, to Jiyong? Ask him for a new supply of weapons?” Hyunjin asks. 

“On such short notice?” Minho laughs, “Millions. Plus we’d be on our own smuggling them in, which I’m sure would make our friends at the DA’s office happy since they’ll be watching us so closely - all of us in prison for life? No amount of blackmail could stop the DA from bagging such a big break, especially over something like dick sucking, every politician in this city is getting their dick sucked by someone who shouldn’t be sucking it,” he sighs, “But even if we could find a way to do that, Jiyong is a loose fucking cannon as it is and I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him, the man is psychotic. He may fuck us over just to watch us go down, even if it means he’s out millions of dollars, he doesn’t give a shit,” Minho drags his hand down his face. 

“We have to steal them back from Taehyung,” Seungmin mutters from the corner. 

Hyunjin sucks his teeth, “If we do that, at least one of us will die doing it,” he says. 

“So we die stealing the guns back, or we die for not delivering the weapons, or we go to prison smuggling replacement weapons in,” Felix outlines, “Is that where we’re at?” 

“We vote then,” Minho stands, “We vote, because Felix is right, your lives are all on the line here, there’s not a single option we have that doesn’t end in potential death or prison. However, Jiyong isn’t an option, we just can’t trust him in a situation that’s already fucked to begin with. So, what’ll it be boys? Steal the guns back and take out as many of Taehyungs fuckers as we can, or plea for mercy from our clients and hope they’ll be gracious and not kill us where we stand?” 

“Steal them back,” Seungmin raises his hand, followed by Jeongin, Jisung, Felix, Christopher and reluctantly, Changbin. 

Minho looks sympathetically at Hyunjin who sighs, nods, then raises his hand, “Steal them back then, we don’t plead for a goddamn thing.” 

Minho smiles, “Then let’s go to work.” 

The small group disperses momentarily, probably so they can take a moment to digest the situation, something you’ve been trying to do all day to no avail. 

Minho walks over to you, “Well, I think we can agree that your term to be trusted has been met,” he laughs softly, but for whatever reason you find that his words have struck some deep emotional string and your eyes blur with hot tears. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he puts his hand on the small of your back and guides you towards the spare room you use for your medical supply storage. Hyunjin locks eyes with you and sees the tears, he shuffles over to join the two of you. 

“What’s going on?” he asks. 

“I’m trying to figure that out myself,” Minho replies, rubbing your shoulders. 

You don’t really know why you’re crying so hard, but at this point you’re audibly sobbing. 

“Babe?” Hyunjin tilts your face up. 

“I just…I don’t want anyone to get hurt…” you admit. “I’m sorry,” you gasp between sobs, “I don’t know why I’m crying so hard, it’s not like I don’t know what happens out there…” 

“It’s alright Love,” Minho pulls you into him, which for some reason only incites more tears, “this was the first time you’ve really heard us talk about things, the first time you’ve really been able to understand how deep in this we are, so it’s not shocking that it hit you hard, the reality.” 

You nod, trying to compose yourself. You take several deep breaths. What the Hell is your problem? Are you truly shocked to know that these men risk their lives? As if you’ve not had them bloodied, shot and stabbed on your kitchen table? 

You seem to get past the hiccuping sobs and right yourself, “Sorry,” you sigh, “I’m just worried about you, all of you. How will you do this? How can I help?” 

Hyunjin smooths your hair and kisses your forehead, “The best way for you to help is to be ready for anything medically speaking, making sure you have everything you need for any possible situation, that’s how you help baby.”

You nod, and look around the room, “I’ll take inventory, make a list of the things I can’t get at the pharmacy, Christopher and I can run out later this week to stock up on trauma supplies.” 

Hyunjin kisses you gently and squeezes your hand, “I’m going to go start strategy talk, our next deliveries for the quarter are due in just under a month, that’s not a lot of time.” 

You and Minho watch as Hyunjin leaves the room. 

“He really is the best I’ve got,” Minho sighs. 

“But you don’t like the situationship we’ve got going, do you?” you ask, which comes as a surprise to you. This isn’t the best time to be talking about relationships, not with everything that just transpired, and yet it fell out of your mouth anyway. 

“What are you talking about?” Minho asks, looking genuinely confused. 

Fine, you guess now is the time, “There are moments, not often but enough that I notice, where you get so quiet, where you feel so distant. I assume that’s because you’d rather it just be you and I, just the two of us together.” 

“I suppose that would make things simpler,” he says, “and it’s true that the moment you said you had feelings for both of us it hit me hard, it was a blow to my pride, but then your face flashed in my head, how you looked that day that I threatened you, how you had just asked me not to give you a reason to be scared of me and I realized that I love you, ___, and I love you in whatever way that comes as.” 

You smile, “You love me, huh?” 

“Yes,” he pulls you into him and kisses your cheeks and nose, “I love you, it’s not something I take lightly and it’s hard for me to say the words because now it’s real, now you know, and now I can actually lose you and if I do I think I might lose myself too.” 

“You won’t lose me,” you whisper. 

“Mm,” he nods, “Just promise me you’ll always be careful, always keep an eye over your shoulder.” 

“I promise.” 

“I need to go back to them,” he gestures towards the door and pulls away. 

“That still doesn’t explain the way you get so quiet sometimes, so contemplative, like you’re questioning it,” you call out to him. 

“I’m not questioning our arrangement Love,” he answers. 

“Then what?” 

He looks toward the sitting area, then back at you, “I guess I just didn’t expect to start caring about him in a different way, that one took me off guard, and yes it does pull me out of the moment sometimes thinking about it.” 

You nod with a smile, “I see.” 

“Yes, so don’t worry baby, okay? I’m just getting used to this new part of me.”

“Okay.” 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“So that’s the thread for the stitch kit, the gauze, the wound care kit, I’d like to get an extra pair of clamps and some sort of disinfectant, iodine if they have it but I suppose alcohol will do if they don’t,” you tell Christopher, tossing a few extra things in the basket. 

“I dropped your medication list off with our guy, I’ll know what he can get us and what he can’t by the end of the day,” he shares. 

“Miss ___?” a voice calls your name and you turn towards it. A man in a cheap suit smiles as he walks up to you in the aisle. 

“Don’t say anything,” Chris mutters under his breath before distancing himself from you. 

“You are Miss ___, are you not?” the man produces a photo on his phone of you and Minho, it’s from the night at the Casino. 

“I suppose I am,” you shrug, plastering a casual smile on your face. You can feel your pores opening from the impending sweat and your heart begins to race. 

“You’re familiar with Lee Minho, the man in the picture?” 

“I know who he is, obviously,” you look at the photo, unable to deny that it’s you, “and you know who I am it seems, but I didn’t catch your name?” 

“Beg your pardon ma’am, my name is Jeon Jungkook, I’m the lead Detective on an arson case we’re working at a warehouse Mr. Lee owns,” he smiles and shows you his badge. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

“Oh, yes, I think I heard something on the news about an explosion outside the city yesterday morning, it was Mr. Lees, you said?” you try to feign surprise but this Jeon guy doesn’t look amused. 

“It was, and I was hoping maybe you’d be willing to come into the station sometime to answer some questions about the, uh, possessions Mr. Lee seems to have lost in the fire,” he grins smugly. 

“Well I’m not sure why you’d think I’d know about anything he lost. That seems like a conversation to have with him, or perhaps the insurance company,” you say. 

“The possessions I’m speaking of aren’t ones that are likely covered by insurance ma’am, and I bet you know that,” he replies. 

You shake your head, “Then you’d lose your bet, Detective, because I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Right, I see,” he sighs, disappointed, then digs in his back pocket and leans in closer, “Here’s my card, if you decide you’re done protecting the bad guys then give me a call,” he looks over your shoulder, “Don’t think I don’t see you Bang, be sure to be a good lap dog and carry Miss ___’s medical supplies to her car for her,” he looks at you, “wouldn’t want you to forget anything then not be able to patch up Lee’s boys,” he winks then walks off. 

He knows. He knows who you are and what you do. He knows everything. Or maybe he doesn’t but obviously he suspects or he wouldn’t have said any of that. 

“Hey, are you good? You look pale as fuck,” Christopher asks but you don’t answer him, suddenly you’re stomach is churning, acid and bile and the iced coffee you drank on the way here bubbling and lurching up, “Hey, ___?” 

“I’ve got to get out of here,” you rasp, no matter how deeply you breathe it feels like you’re not getting enough air, “I need to get out, get me the fuck out of here!” you yelp.

Chris nods and sets the basket on a shelf, “Okay, okay, come on,” he ushers you toward the parking lot. 

It’s no use, even though the breeze is cool and soothes your skin, your stomach still twists and the nausea is too much, you brace one hand on the side of the car and bend over, vomiting all over the parking space, your shoes, and the rear tire of the car parked next to Chris’s. 

“Fuck…” Chris gags, he opens the door and leans in, plucking left over restaurant napkins from his center console and handing them to you. 

“Thanks,” you say hoarsely, wiping your mouth off, then bending over to wipe your shoes. You walk over to a nearby garbage bin and toss the napkins in. You feel better after puking your guts out and finally take a breath.

Chris holds the passenger door open for you, “Well, good thing you didn’t overreact or lose your cool or something,” he laughs and so do you. “Do you want me to go back in and buy all the shit we came here for?” 

“Yes,” you sigh, resting your head on the seat, “Please. Can you get me a lemonade or something as well?” 

“Yeah, be right back.” 

“Thank you Chris, and, I know we’ll have to tell Minho about the detective but for the love of God can you please keep your mouth closed about me having a nervous puke session after? He already worries too much about me. If he thinks I’m going to barf every time I leave the house then I’ll be trapped like a rat.” 

“I swear.” 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“Like the lawyer said baby, investigators are going to be watching, but they don’t have jack shit on us, I’ve spent my entire career ensuring that anything they have is circumstantial at best, completely inadmissible, you are fine,” Minho soothes. 

“I’ve never been on that side of things before,” you say softly, “I’ve never really been on any side of the law, I guess, but being the one approached, being asked questions - God that was awful.” 

Hyunjins hand grazes over your hip, “They’ve got nothing on you baby,” he kisses your bare shoulder. “Don’t let it bother you. Don’t let him get to you.” 

“He knew exactly what I do for you, he said it plainly,” you point out. 

“So he knows you’re a nurse and made an educated guess that you use that knowledge to help people, big fucking deal, that’s nothing, certainly not a crime, and neither is being in a picture with me, you’re safe baby,” Minho continues. “I protect my people, I would never let anything carelessly slip through the cracks, would never let anything happen to you, to either of you.” 

Hyunjins hand stills on your hip and you can feel him staring at Minho from behind you. He clearly wasn’t aware of his upgraded position in Minhos emotional capacities and you grin in spite of the shitty day. Especially when you feel Hyunjins erection growing against your backside. 

“Shower?” he asks the two of you. 

“You boys go,” you sigh, “I took a shower this afternoon. If my hair gets wet I’ll kill you and I am not fucking anyone in a shower cap,” you laugh, though if you’re being honest your stomach is still queasy and while the thought of getting fucked out in the shower is always appealing, you don’t need the shaking and bouncing right now. 

“You usually shower at night though,” Minho pouts, rubbing his nose against yours. 

“I…” you don’t want him or Hyunjin to know that you got so nervous after talking to the officer that you puked, you do not need them fretting over you, “I spilled something on myself earlier and wanted to clean up after. Besides, I feel like crap today, I’m no good,” you chuckle, stretching out on the bed with a yawn. 

“Then we’ll stay here until you fall asleep,” Minho scoots in and tucks you under his chin while Hyunjin presses himself to your back, and you instantly feel the hardness again. 

“Be right back,” Hyunjin squirms off the bed and trots off toward the bathroom. 

“What’s his problem?” Minho looks at the door. 

You giggle, “Our Hyunjin is feeling a little stiff, if you catch me, I think he went to go fix that.” 

“Oh…” Minho trails off, but you catch the way he keeps his eyes fixed on the door. 

“Go,” you nudge him a bit. 

“Without you?” Minho raises his brow. 

You cock your head to the side, “See, unlike you, I’m not possessive,” you smile and kiss him, giving his bottom lip a little bite, “Go.” 

Truth be told, the scene playing out behind the bathroom door entices you, you can feel the wet pooling between your legs, feeling uncomfortable and slick, and you think of pulling yourself out of bed to join. However, the weight of the last few days seems to be catching up to you, the level of tiredness you feel rivals the way you felt after leaving your third 12hr night shift of the week back at the hospital. You haven’t felt this sleepy in so long that not even the two men getting busy in your bathroom, wishing you were in there with them, could stop your eyes from fluttering shut and immediately going to sleep. 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

The full night of sleep doesn’t seem to even make a dent in your exhaustion. The following day you still drag your feet, unable to do anything productive despite the growing to-do list you’re making in your head. Not to mention that your stomach still doesn’t feel quite right and you begin to wonder if you’ve eaten something or caught a bug. 

When your phone rings, waking you from your second nap of the day you want to toss it into the toilet. 

“We’re about five minutes out,” Jeongin yells into the phone. 

Fuck. 

“Who is it and how bad?” you ask the same question you always do. 

“Seungmin got shot in the leg,” he answers. 

“Okay, I’ll be ready.” 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

Seungmin sits on the kitchen table, his foot propped up in one of the seats as blood drips down his calf. His face contorts everytime you press the gauze to his wound and you only take a tiny smidgen of satisfaction from that. 

“It grazed you,” you squint, “but it grazed you deep. I need to flush it with saline and clean it up before I can decide if you need stitches or not,” you explain. 

“Well do that then, it hurts,” he whines and you roll your eyes. 

“I’ve got to get back to Lee and the others, tell them what we found before you got sniped in the leg,” Jeongin says, pacing back and forth. 

“What did you find?” you wonder out loud. 

“Why do you need to know?” Seungmin snaps but rights himself when you and Jeongin both shoot him a look. “Sorry.” 

“Taehyungs front business is all in hotels, that we knew, and we also know his actual business is heroin, we’ve never known where his storehouse was though, until now. We just found it,” Jeongin says proudly, “that’s got to be where he’s keeping our stolen guns. He couldn’t keep that much hardware hidden in a hotel.” 

“Go,” Seungmin says but looks behind him at Christopher who sits in the living room spectating, “take him with you, no one goes anywhere alone, you heard Lee.” 

“You two good to sit here together?” Jeongin asks with a smirk. 

“I’ll be nice if he does, and if not then I’ll just go in a little deeper with those stitches,” you smile up at Seungmin. 

“Just go, I’m fine,” Seungmin huffs. 

Chris and Jeongin leave and you continue to work silently on Seungmins leg, trying desperately not to think about how sick your stomach feels. 

You clear your throat after several moments, “You know, asking people to stop getting shot so much is a request I never thought I’d have to utter so often,” god your stomach is killing you - banter with Seungmin? Ugh. You are off today.

“Mm, so sorry Princess, that I inconvenienced your day of doing absolutely nothing. You’ve still got pillow marks on your face for Gods sake, have you just been asleep all day?” he retorts. 

“Yep,” you say, swallowing hard, trying to keep whatever is in your stomach from coming up. 

“Makes sense, you look like absolute garbage.” 

“Feel like it too,” you agree, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand. 

“Well fuck __, it’s not fun being an ass to you if you just sit there and take it,” Seungmin scoffs, “What the Hell is wrong with you anyway?” 

“I don’t know,” you frown, pulling your hands away from his leg, “I just…” your hand flies up to your mouth and you run across the kitchen so you can vomit into the sink. 

“Ughhhh,” Seungmin groans, “are you sick or something?”

“I don’t know,” you pant, gripping the edge of the counter, “I think I ate something I shouldn’t have,” you say. 

“Oh sure, that’s what they all say but really you’ve probably got some disgusting, contagious bullshit,” he covers his mouth and nose dramatically with his arm, “stay away from me.” 

“Are you going to stitch yourself up then? Besides, the only people I’ve been around are you guys, are any of you sick? Hm?” 

You pluck a paper towel off the roll and wipe your mouth.

“You’re not pregnant are you?” he laughs and puts his arm back down. 

You freeze, falling back into the chair you’ve been stitching him from. Your eyes go wide as different numbers matrix-drip down your brain. You don’t remember how long it’s been since your period, but you know you’ve had multiple since you started working for Minho, was the last one at the last house? This house? You can’t remember. The realization that you haven’t remembered to get a Depo shot since you were working at the hospital, however, is a much more violent intrusion, hitting you like a semi truck barreling into a brick wall. You told Minho the first time you’d ever been together that you were good, that you were on birth control, and at the time it was true. In the chaos of everything though, you’d not been back to the doctor, you hadn’t even thought of it. How could you not have thought of it?

You look up at Seungmin, body numb and eyes wide, unspeaking. 

He lets out a windstorm of a sigh and rolls his eyes, “Oh for fucks sake.”

Endnotes:

1. Ooofffff. Don’t hurt me

2. I will do tag lists this evening 😘

[autumnmobile12]

Just want to point out that in the Ambush Sim AU that while Touya teaches piano to grade schoolers, the window of opportunity to do so is very small. Most Japanese schools end the day around 3 in the afternoon (taking into account piano lessons are an extracurricular activity,) so depending on when dinner happens in the Todoroki household, he really only has two to three hours to teach. He's able to schedule more students during weekends and holiday breaks, but since he's otherwise unemployed, he has a lot of time to himself during the day.

So as shown in Chapter 6, he does most of the housework.

Endeavor doesn't do housework, he probably barred Shouto from doing any in favor of the rigorous training schedule, and the only reason Fuyumi and Touya alternate cooking meals is because she enjoys cooking and insists on that schedule. Other than that, Touya is the one taking care of cleaning, laundry, gardening, errands, and other assorted household maintenance. Even if Endeavor asks Fuyumi to run an errand in town or pick something up, Touya's usually the one to take care of it on her behalf since she's the one with the full-time teaching job.

However, by the Ambush Simulation: The Hellish Todoroki Family installment, he no longer lives at home. So everything he took care of in that house is going to start piling up with Shouto and Natsuo living on campus and Fuyumi and Endeavor working full time.

…

Endeavor: *comments on how laundry is falling behind and how the house seems dustier*

Fuyumi: *actually triggered to annoyance* I don’t know what to tell you, Dad. My housekeeper brother no longer lives here.

Endeavor: *realizing he's shot himself in the foot*

Touya: *diligently taking care of his Fukuoka residence and torn between feeling bad for Fuyumi and feeling vindicated that Father Dearest may finally be acknowledging he was an under-appreciated son*

[urfavleo777]

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, oral (f receiving), enemies to lovers.

pairing colby brock x fem¡reader

HALLOWEEN prompt: The new tenants of the house you’re haunting are being haunted by another ghost. War ensues.

As a ghost, you liked to make your presence felt.

It was fun to torment the living by slamming cabinets and putting on your favourite songs when you were still human. Terrified owners, convinced that they were dealing with a demon, started hanging crosses and pictures in huge numbers. In every corridor of this Victorian house there was at least one painting with the image of Mary. Within 24 hours they all landed on the floor with an incredible bang.

So you weren't surprised when they brought in a priest one day. As if that would help. The priest blessed the house in vain and when he left, the owners tried to communicate with you using the Ouija board. They asked a lot of questions and didn't get a single answer from you.

You thought they were fools. You've given them so many signs that you don't want them here. All you wanted was to get them all off your property. Why couldn't they just pack up their things and find another house? Maybe because not every house looked like a  fortress frozen in time.

The most active place was your room upstairs, which now, slightly renovated, belonged to their son. You particularly liked the youngest boy in the family, he seemed to be the most terrified and often you'd do things specifically targeting him, including whispering creepy sounds in his ear at night to keep him on edge.

You didn't remember when nor how you died. The only thing you remembered about your previous life was music. You loved music, sometimes you even replayed a Michael Jackson concert in your head that you, as a human, had managed to attend. So you must have been stuck here since the late 1980s, haunting this place for years, quietly watching over it.

Everything was fine until the other ghost showed up.

“Show yourself!” You gasped, trying to keep your voice steady.

A figure began to take shape out of the air, the image fuzzy but slowly growing clearer. As you stared at the spectre, it was clear that the presence before you had once been a man. You could see the sharp features and strong jawline from decades gone by.

A chill went up your spine as you realized the clothing of the ghost was very different from a modern outfit. It was older, but well-made and expensive-looking, like something an 1800s aristocrat might wear.

“You're new,” he said, his voice low and smooth, yet there was something cold in his tone. “This isn't your home.”

He stepped forward, and you could see the details of his face, a face that was sharp and handsome. He seemed to be in his mid-20s, with dark, intense eyes. He was wearing a long coat, perfectly tailored and a stark black and white color. A dark hat was in his hand, as if he'd just taken it off.

“I...” You swallowed hard, feeling overwhelmed by fear, but also this strange pull of curiosity. The ghost looked at you, his expression almost disdainful.

“You're the one who's been haunting this house,” he stated. It was clearly not a question. “You've been making yourself quite the nuisance, haven't you?”

“Before I died in this house, it was mine. I can scare anyone I want here and no one, especially no one who looks like... someone straight out of the Middle Ages, will stop me.”

"Oh, do I look out-of-date to you? I suppose fashion has changed since my time. But let me tell you something that has not: this house is mine. We built it. The Brock family.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Wait... Brock family?” You felt a sudden jolt of realization. “Brock... you mean the family that built the original part of this house?”

His expression hardened. “Yes. The Brock family. Every stone, every brick, belonged to my ancestors.”

The ghost smiled, though his smile was more of a sneer. He began to pace, the sound of his steps echoing throughout the chamber.

“Anyway, you think that dying in the house gives you the right to terrify its owners?” A small smile curled on his lips.

“I am the owner. And they deserved it,” You retorted, though you voice lacked the conviction you wished it to have.

The ghost cocked his head to the side. "Oh? And why is that?" he asked, his tone dripping with condescension.

“They don't... value the history of this place. They are turning this house into some kind of religious cult. Have you seen these crosses? The only thing missing from perfection here is the Pope.”

He arched an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “A sentimental ghost. How... touching.”

“Better than a fallen aristocrat.” You retorted, though the ghost's smile was sending chills up your spine.

He leaned in close. His voice dropped to a murmur. “You think scaring them is enough?” He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush a finger gently against your cheek. You felt a chill go through you, but not of coldness. “Why not do something... more entertaining, Y/N?” As your name left his lips, you almost died a second time. How did he know? You tried to hide your shock, “How- how do you know my name?”

The ghost had a small, smug smirk on his face. "I know a great many things, sweetheart,” he replied, his tone almost mocking. “Oh, and where are my manners? Colby Brock, son of the home's original owner.”

You hesitated for a moment, wary of him. But, almost against your will, you reached out to take his hand. It was strangely warm and as you felt the solidity of his hand in yours, you stared at him. He was a ghost like you, yet he seemed different. More... real, more present.

“How can I... feel you?” You whispered, your voice shaking a bit.

Colby's smirk widened. “I've been watching you... Y/N,” he said. You didn't like the way he said your name, almost as if it was an endearment.

“You've been watching me?” Your voice came out in a whisper.

“As much as a ghost can,” he replied, running a thumb over the back of your hand. “I have to admit, you're fascinating. A mischievous spirit with a penchant for causing chaos.”

His words made you feel uneasy, but you didn't pull your hand away. The feeling of his skin on yours was so... foreign. It had been decades since you felt a physical touch.

He shrugged, his other hand tracing a path around your wrist. It was strangely intimate.

“A little amusement,” he said, his voice low. “Your antics were a pleasant distraction from this eternal haunting of my former home.”

You tried to pull your hand away, but his grip was firm. “Let me go,” You murmured, though there was no force in your voice.

Colby chuckled, his eyes locked with yours. “Or what?” he asked, his grip tightening just slightly. “What are you going to do? Cause a few bumps in the night? Knock some glasses off the kitchen counter?”

A small smirk played on his lips. “You can't do anything to me, sweetheart. Besides, this is my house.”

“It's my house too,” You retorted.

“Oh, no, my dear,” he said, his voice almost a purr. “This house has always been and always will be mine.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. You better tell me how we can scare them that they shit in their pants.”

Colby's expression turned smug. “Oh, a variety of things. A voice in the middle of the night, an unseen force knocking around the trinkets they'd placed. What fun would it be to tell you, sweetheart?”

His condescending tone irritated you, but even more concerning was how you were letting him hold your hand and the way your heart skipped a beat as he leaned in.

“Perhaps we could have a different kind of… fun.”

You felt your cheeks warm despite yourself. You wanted to argue with him, but something in his gaze kept you pinned in place.

Colby tilted your chin up gently, making you meet his eyes. “Oh?” he murmured, his tone lowering, “Is that what you want, honey?”

Your breath hitched at his words and the soft touch. He was right, you missed the physicality of life, the sensation of being touched and held. His thumb gently traced the curve of your cheek. “I can give you what you want, Y/N,” he murmured, leaning in close enough that his lips were practically brushing yours.

Colby moved closer, his thumb tracing a slow path down your neck. You felt your breath hitch as a shiver ran down your spine at his touch.

He whispered, his voice low, “I know exactly how you feel. How your body aches for a touch that it will probably never feel again. I understand that, honey. Better than you know.”

He paused, so close you could almost taste his breath.

“But it comes with a price, you know,” he murmured. “You'll be mine. My haunting. My sweetheart.”

“Take me.” Was all you could manage to say.

Colby's smirk turned into a satisfied smile. "Gladly, sweetheart," he murmured. His lips met yours in a kiss that was both gentle and hungry, a century's worth of longing and loneliness poured into the contact, like he was trying to memorize every detail.

With a low growl, he pulled you fully into his lap, pressing you against him. His kisses grew more urgent, his hands gripping your waist, pulling your body against his.

“You have no idea how badly I've waited for this,” he murmured, kissing down your neck.

You threw your arms around his neck, feeling his breath, his skin, his solidness beneath you. It felt like a dream you’d spent decades having, and now it was here, real and solid.

Colby continued to kiss along your neck, his lips moving down to the hollow of your throat. When he reached the base of your neck, he paused, then gently bit down, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

You let out a gasp, your nails digging into his back as he found a sensitive spot. Colby let out a dark chuckle, kissing and biting lightly as if to draw out more reactions from you.

“I need you, Colby,” you whispered between kisses. “Colby,” you whined, burying your hands in his hair.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Colby whined, looking up at you pathetically, pupils blown and lips swollen from yours. “Let me make you feel good, okay?” You nodded, settling down on the sofa where he knelt in front of you, taking you in. He cursed under his breath, looking you up and down.

“Colby,” you whined, arching your back. You needed his hands on you again, his lips. Something. Anything.

“I know, pretty,” he soothed, threading his fingers into the waistband of your shorts. “I will take care of you.” He slid them down your legs, leaving you in just your bra and panties.

He took off his own shirt, threw it carelessly and let it get lost on the floor. He slid down to the bottom of your bra, teasingly touching the fabric before he put his hand behind your back and skillfully undid your bra in one easy movement. You arched your back again, the straps of your bra slipping off your shoulders.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, his hand tracing the curves of your breasts, massaging gently. “Perfect. You want me to make you feel good, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you stuttered, biting your lip as his hand left your breasts and moved down your stomach, stopping just above your clit. He moved his fingers down some more, feeling where the arousal was leaking through the panties.

“Can’t wait anymore, pretty girl,” he whispered. “Wanna taste this pussy.” He kissed your belly button, leaving a trail down the rest of your stomach as his mouth travelled to where you needed him most.

There’s something depraved about the way he was crawling down your body, taking in every inch of you. He spread your legs apart with the palms of his hands—his thumbs brushing against your bare skin, licking teasingly at your inner thighs as he settled in between them.

He stopped and looked at you through closed eyes. You could see the want – no, need – in the way his muscles flexed and the way his jaw worked. But he hesitated, his breath hot against your core, sending another jolt of desire through your body. Your chest rose and fell quickly as your eyes searched for his next move.

He finally pressed a kiss to your clit. “You don’t understand how you make me feel,” he mumbled against your heat, licking a long stripe through your folds and back to your clit. “No idea how long I’ve fucking wanted you.” You threw your head back, whimpering his name like a mantra. His tongue swirled around your clit, flicking it, taking it in between his lips and sucking hard.

“F-fuck!” You cried out, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he set a relentless pace. “Colby!”

“I know, sweetheart. You’re doing so well.” He soothed and squeezes your hip, his pace unwavering as his fingers fuck into you, scissoring inside you, drawing you closer to your climax with that come-hither motion. Your walls fluttered again. “That’s it,” he cooed. “Wanna feel you come—wanna know what it tastes like.” He started licking harder, faster.

Your body was his, completely at his mercy, and from the look in his eyes, he knew it. Your eyes fluttered shut, silently and vocally begging him to take control.

“That’s right, baby,” he growled, voice thick with lust. “Cum for me, darlin’.”

His words ignited something primal in you, your body responding to his dominance as you gasped for breath, legs shaking beneath you. You screamed in pleasure, causing Colby to groan.

“All mine,” He hissed, licking up the juices. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Fuck.

The youngest of the family, whom you loved to scare so much, spent the night away from his room. He couldn't bear to listen to the sound of furniture falling from the top floor.

[multidimensionalguidance]

The Astrology Behind: The Contest Queen

Helen Hadsell was known as mentioned above, the "contest queen". She entered and won many contests for items and for all-expense paid trips. She was famous for being able to win almost everything she would sign up for, and eventually became a public speaker and author to explain the magic behind it.

Her interest in spirituality and metaphysics was widely known as well. She actively mentioned how her technique relied entirely in the "projection of energy each person possesses" which she mentioned as "auric energy". A lot of her philosophy and teachings were in regards to using telepathy, clairvoyance, and psychic abilities in order to achieve success.

Her timing online appears as 3:00AM, which would make her:

ASC in Ashwini, Sun in Rohini (Taurus), Moon in Krittika (Taurus), Mercury - Part of Fortune in Bharani (Aries), Venus in Punarvasu (Gemini), Mars in Dhanishtha (Capricorn), Jupiter in Jyeshtha (Scorpio), and Saturn in Chitra (Libra).

One of the first things that got my attention, surprisingly, was seeing Part of Fortune sitting right on her ASC and closely conjunct her Mercury. For many these points in Vedic are not very relevant, but I find it incredibly interesting how the representation of worldly success, luck, and wealth are directly influencing her entire being. It was almost as if her words and intellect carried this energy within her. She was a walking magnet for receiving the universe's blessings.

It's very important to take note that in order to interpret Part of Fortune one must verify the condition and placement of the ruling planet. Both the ruler of her ASC and Part of Fortune are exalted in Capricorn, which means that her sense of self, luck, and vitality in general were basically on steroids. This woman was truly unstoppable, but it doesn't stop there.

Her Sun in Rohini sitting in the 2nd house, and this nakshatra is well known for being the "Moon's favorite wife". Many celebrities who are favored and given extra doses of grace by everyone tend to have this placement. According to texts the "probability for winning in auction is high for them". Their ability to win over others for prizes that are difficult to obtain is noted as well, and this definitely stands true for Helen. Also, no surprise that someone whose Sun (and Moon) sits in the house of resources would be able to obtain it with ease, and even more so if it's in a "lucky" nakshatra such as Rohini.

What else called my attention? Jupiter in her 8th house. It's often seen in charts of women who either marry wealthy husbands, simply have a lot of luck when it comes to other people's money, or run into unaccounted wealth at some point of their lives. Jupiter here brings luck and expansion to all the Scorpio themes, for Jyeshtha specifically, it comes after a certain amount of struggle and comes with a lot of envy from others. The ruler of her 8th going into the 10th and it being exalted explains how her career and the way she was perceived by the public was as an occultist or mystical successful women. She also was a teacher and provided guidance to those who wanted to tap into their own psychic abilities.

Special mention to Venus being conjunct Pluto as well, since it often appears in charts of people who obtain wealth in random ways or after really transformative experiences. They are power houses when it comes to using pain as a fuel to level up. The more struggles and heartbreaks, the more beautiful and wealthy they get.

There's definitely more to breakdown from her chart, but I just wanted to provide my insights on what called my attention the most after seeing it for the first time. Hope it was a fun read <3

[jinisnuggets]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑶𝑵𝑬. 𝑫𝑬𝑳𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑨𝑳 - 𝑱.𝒀𝑯

PAIRINGS | Yunho x Fem!Reader

GENRE | Angst

Word Count | 1.2k

Warnings | Missing person mentions, multiple hints and mentions of death, swear words, states of denial, hints of depression, supernatural activity?

SYNOPSIS | You felt yourself slowly losing your grip on reality as you came to accept the fact that he was gone. You knew it, yet the hope still came back, the hope that maybe he was still out there, waiting for you.

Masterlist (None Yet)

NETWORK | @illusionnet @starlit-network @k-library @blossomnet

A/N | I was going to wait till I finished writing the entire series, but I would like to post this now to see how it does. If you have any feedback, please please please tell me :D

“Another report?”

Your eyes were tired, you were tired as you noticed her stare at you, remaining silent until she finally decided to speak up.

“Listen, I know you're only doing this hell of a job in order to find your missing boyfriend, but please remember that we have limited people who we're working with and most definitely not enough for you to be solely in charge of his case.” She scolded.

You groaned in frustration, “Are you done criticizing?” you muttered under your breath, flipping through the stacks worth of valuable information.

She blinked, shaking her head shortly after in disappointment as she sighed, earning a glare from you.

“Unfortunately, you're one of our best so please hurry up and do your job right.” she murmured.

Slamming the folders onto the desk while standing up and pulling your chair near her, taking a seat with a fake smile spread wide across your face.

“Well then Ms. Know-it-all, would you please stop bickering and take the time to show me this new case?” You asked, with an obvious sarcasm in your voice.

People often had the tendency to misinterpret you, leading to misunderstandings. Becoming a detective wasn't an choice whenever he went missing many years back, and it bothered you that people commonly misconceived your agony for discourtesy.

You felt guilty. Guilty for becoming a top detective in your facility. Guilty for failing to keep that promise that was made so long ago.

Home felt like a prison; you only ever saw visions of how life was back then when everything was simply normal; had dreams that felt so real, so vivid that they almost fooled you, fooled you into thinking that everything was just a bad nightmare and in reality he was still next to you, holding you tight into the arms of his embrace.

Somehow, you still lived in denial; a slight hope that he was still out there somewhere: alive and well, though you knew the percentage of that was close to little or even none. Truthfully, the more you thought about it the closer you were to quitting that stupid job. It brought you nothing but anguish.

Afterall, it'd been 4 years. There was no chance of ever finding him by now.

Though your consciousness would never leave you alone if you ever quit without any sense of closure.

Before taking a job as a detective, you wished to study something more simplistic and take a different approach in life. Something that would allow you to live comfortably while still having time for him. You'd walk past the door everyday, always coming home to the lively smell of freshly cooked food, or the smell of a clean house.

You'd walk into the kitchen and see him, wrap your arms around his waist and allow yourself to rest on his warmth.

And now even the house seemed to have lost its color; as if it knew that there was no life occupying its residency anymore; it felt as if walking into an empty void of darkness.

The only reason you'd ever move his things was to brush away any dust that had made home on his furniture, besides that you never dared to move anything from where he had left it, not even when you got tired of seeing the same layout everyday. Maybe because it was the only thing you had left of him.

Following your steps and walking over to the door; taking a deep breath before opening it and revealing the other side, walking in as you let your legs guide you.

Dragging yourself, you moved slowly, almost limply over to the vase which was in the corner of his TV stand, carrying the brand new bouquet of red roses and placing them neatly inside, taking a seat on his bed as you forced a smile, already beginning to feel the warmth creep into your throat.

“Happy Anniversary.. Yunho..” you muttered, cheeks burning in vexation.

“It's been 8 years.”

Silence filled the room once more, almost as if you were expecting an answer.

You felt the tears stream down your face.

“My birthday's coming up… I'll be 24..”

Though it was hard, you began accepting the reality you were in, feeling yourself collapse onto his bed as your tears streamed down your cheeks furiously and landed on those blankets that hadn't been slept in for years.

Taking multiple deep breaths and sitting up. “I really wish you had finished your game. I can still recall how excited you were about it…” You muttered as your eyes landed on the game collection he'd been so enthusiastic about.

Sure, what you were doing would be considered stupid to an outsider who had no human decency on how it felt losing someone as special as Yunho; but to you it felt like therapy. Almost like you were speaking to him again.

Sighing, you stood up from his bed and walked towards the TV, wiping off some of the dust which had gathered.

“I hope you don't get upset with me for moving your things to the attic. I doubt it's healthy for me to keep it here, so I'll probably move everything soon, when I get the chance.”

You finally left the room, deciding it would be best to leave everything for the moment and go make yourself something for dinner, just to clear your mind, however, the moon came out from under the trees and soon came your bedtime.

Your room was at the end of the hall, which meant it was a requirement to walk past your missing boyfriend’s empty bedroom. Almost everyday for the last 1,460 days, you walked past that shut door that led into an empty void.

This time however, you felt strangely drawn to the room, and it wasn't until you noticed the soft light that peeked from underneath the door frame that you realized why that might've been.

The thought of an intruder was the first automatic thought that came into your mind, though instead of being fearful, you felt mostly frustrated.

Opening the door, you walked into the room with caution. It was emptied of any life except for the bright TV, which illuminated the room with a screen that had been long forgotten.

It was the game's homepage, the game that Yunho had been so excited about so many years ago. The brown bubble boxes of options dangling on the screen cheerfully; background moving with ease as it navigated through a default map from afar.

Staring and chuckling, you moved towards the remote and clicked on the off settings, which was uneventful as the screen went pitch black. You sprinted towards the door, about to close it behind you until the wall in front of you lit up with a bright light.

Once more, you turned around and saw the TV’s screen, shining optimistically on the game's homepage with the same brown bubble boxes dangling in the middle; this time, the background showed a different setting, which was that of a shop.

Maybe it was a glitch.

Making your way back, you picked up the controller, once more and clicked the off button; although the TV didn't shut off this time, the screen remained the same, unmoving except for the game's homepage animation.

You clicked again and again but nothing.

You walked towards the disk inserter, clicking the glowing button which was to release the disk contraction.

Nothing happened.

Walking back, the screen remained indifferent, mocking if not. And though you certainly weren't in the mood or mindset for it, you felt you mind ignoring what you knew you shouldn't, going into a state of euphoria as you picked up a controller from the stand and clicked the one and only option.

Start Game

[chaostified]

Some mf came in our room and stole my damn shoes and heels. Nothing else (nothing else we've noticed at least), just these two things.

Btw, my mum works at this hotel so she's a semi-permanent resident, which means that the cleaning staff, who are the only ones with access to all rooms aren't allowed in here.

Honestly, I'm not even mad, I'm just amused as to why did someone steal my shoes of all the damn things.

[cuntwrap--supreme]

I've been doing a lot of grocery delivery in the country lately, so I ordered myself a nice bumper sticker so I fit in with everyone else's stuff :)

I've seen a lot of these lately, but they were all of a pride flag I don't recognize. Not sure which gender/sexuality has the red and white stripes with the blue with white stars in the corner, but I guess it's an ok design. The rainbow is the traditional LGBT flag, though, so I feel it symbolizes the collective queer community a little better and will be a little more noticeable/recognizable than niche flags, like this stars and stripes guy.

[icewindandboringhorror]

There's always a slight yearning in the back of my mind wishing I had been born in the right place, time, family situation, income level, etc. to have just lived in one single house for my entire life. Imagine being born in a place that still suits you, even through all of your personal evolutions and etc. The idea of deep familiarity with an area because you've lived and explored it for 40+ years, being encased in a web of memories and connections. Being able to clean out your old childhood bedroom and find personal artifacts, to dig in the yard and remember. I know those lives can still be plenty imperfect, but there's just something so seemingly solid and stable and Grounding about it that I sometimes wish I could have.. (At least from my outside perspective as someone who's moved around a bit geographically and even within the same area, never lives in the same house/ apartment /etc. for more than a few years usually.) Like... having a place that is printed upon, fully your own, rather than chronically a visitor, every thought of a space always tempered with the notion that one day soon you'll have to pack it all up again, etc. There's something peaceful about the permanence.

[archduke-enver-gortash]

mmm essay about sally and kid gort in the tags (cw for child abuse, mentions of suicide, animal cruelty and a murder attempt. i always hope i don’t have to say this but just in case: i don’t excuse or condone any of her or gort’s behaviour at all.) this is literally not even touching upon everything i have to say because i hit the fucking tag limit lmao. NOBODY READ IT’S BAD BRAINSTORMING I JUST NEEDED TO GET IT OUT SOMEHOW

[downfallofi]

If I had to describe the mood, it really is like when you grow up with an abusive parent; and there are bad days where you're just willing for them to go to work and be gone all day so you don't have to hear them yelling and slamming shit