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lunaarraaah · 4 days

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Izuku 🔄 Momo 🔄 Himiko?

I added toga last minute cause I wanted to >:)

I made the front of the hair look like Momo's and the back hair kinda look like toga's, I made the color of the hair to represent izuku's. I also tried to make the face shape between izuku's and toga's, last minute I wanted the character to have toga's eyes. The glasses and earrings and extra freckles I added on cause it looked better. :D

#izuku midoriya #momo yaoyorozu #toga himiko #my hero academia #mix character #cute? maybe?#lunaardraws #lunaarthoughts #lunaarshitpost #lunaarspeeks

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violetlunette · 2 years

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There was said interview, where HK said that jpn audience hated the villains and since villains started to gain more popularity, the manga popularity plummeted each year and rn SJ is rushing HK to end bnha. Villain stans got totally mad of course calling jpn fans dumb, weird, saying they have a terrible taste and that jpn only dislikes them bc of the culture since they don't like out of the norm ppl gaining popularity and don't like to see opressed ones trying to change the system

So what do you think abt that?

Warnings:

*Mentions of Terrorism

*Mentions of Serial Killing

*Bad Language

*Anti League of Villains

**Anti Himiko Toga

**Anti Dabi

**Twice Critical

*Victim Mentality

Basically, Villain Stans may want to skip this.

First, I kinda knew that HK is being rushed to finish the story, as you can feel it when you read it. I wasn’t aware of the reason though.

Now I am not Japanese and I have never met one personally, but I don’t meet many people (I don’t like them, see?) so I don’t know what they’re thinking. But I think it’s insulting that westerns—yeah, I know who the culprits are, sadly--are making such a gross generalization. But if any of the Eastern parts of the fandom--particularly the Japanese--want to weigh in, then by all means, please do.

Why does everyone assume people hate villains because they’re “out of the norm people?” Jack Sparrow is “out of the norm,” and he’s the most famous pirate in fiction! The Disney villains are all “out of the norm,” and people love them more than the heroes! (And note how most Disney fans aren’t trying to justify their actions either.) Dr. Stein from Soul Eater is “out of the norm,” and—you all get the point.

Why is it so hard to accept that people hate villains because they do VILLAINOUS things? Is it really so hard to believe that villains can be hated because they kill innocent people, steal, and cause harm without remorse? And is it really so unbelievable that not everyone is willing to wave aside their crimes just because of a sad backstory?

Have any of the Japanese fans actually said, “I don’t like this person because they’re different?” Or have they given other reasons that people are ignoring?

“Oppressed ones trying to change the system?” Bullshit. That's my opinion on that. The League of Villains was never oppressed! (At least by the hero society.) Oh, yeah, I’m fucking going there!

Tago is a freaking serial killer, who wants to be able to do whatever she wants without consequence. Even if the thing she wants to do is drink blood without consent or drink them dry.

Dabe just wants revenge on Endeavor and has killed tons of innocent people to do that and even set up his siblings to die as well.

Compress comes from a family of thieves, who claims to want to bring corrupt heroes to light, but we never see that. Maybe his ancestors did, but here he’s just using his powers to hurt people and kidnap kids.

Twice was a criminal who was a one-man army who used his powers to commit armed robberies, battery, and assault (not confirmed if he crossed into murder).

And finally, Shiggy is a brainwashed criminal whose actions have been manipulated and controlled by All for One since he was little, and he never received the psychological help he needed after accidentally murdering his whole family. He doesn’t want to change anything! He just wants to destroy heroes because that’s what AFO wants.

Spinner may want to change things to help people, but he’s probably the only one.

Every single person in the league is a terrorist who attacked innocent people and resulted in mass destruction. Not one of them is innocent.

Endeavor is the only one on the hero's side who has hurt an innocent person and set a member of the league on the path to villainy. If Dabe only hurt Endeavor we would be having a different talk, but he hurt several innocent people and tried to murder his siblings, so here we are.

The worst that society has done was suffer the bystander syndrome, and yeah, that’s bad, but it’s something everyone’s guilty of. Everyone has seen a stray and ignored them. Everyone has seen a homeless person on the street and moved on with their day. Doesn’t mean everyone deserves to die, it just means we need to be better. Same with the manga.

Now the Meta league, that’s a different story. Yes, they’re still villains and killers, but they’re the ones actually fighting for their rights and unlike the League, they have points. Quirks are a part of who people are, and if they’re not hurting anyone, they should use them. It’s not fair that only “heroes” should be able to use them legally. THEY’RE the “oppressed ones trying to change the system.” And they tried to do it peacefully at first and only went to extremes when no one would listen, as back then there was a fear against quirks. And now, thanks to their history, they’re seen as anarchists and no one is willing to even listen to them. They’re still villains, but they’re villains with a leg to stand on.

The LoVs are just people who kill other people, then throw a fit when they’re called out on it. This reminds me of a villain from demon slayer, who was always going, “Stop picking on me!” or “I can’t stand those who bully the weak!” when said demon was literally murdering a village of people. That’s exactly what the LoVs are. They are stuck on the victim mentally because they don’t want to change.

The heroes are far from perfect, and they’ve done questionable things with the assassins, and Hawks, but the majority of heroes still do everything they can to help people. Some do it for money and fame, but they still save people. Even Endeavor, who is the biggest asshole on the hero side, still saves people every day. (He should still go to jail for child and marital abuse, and lose all custody of his children, but I digress.)

Stans and the narrative can push all they want that the LOVs are just “oppressed ones trying to change the system,” but the facts prove that they aren’t. They’re killers and criminals who want to do bad things without being challenged or made to feel bad.

The manga's not over, so there's a slight chance I may change my mind, but I doubt it. As is--well, I think I've made my feelings clear.

That’s all from me on the topic. Have a nice day!

#anti himiko toga #anti dabi #anti league of villains #anti lov #mha #bnha #bnha meta #bnha rant #long post #sorry this was rushed so some stuff was mixed up #at this point I'm just sick of the villains #and how people react to them

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tonya-the-chicken · 10 months

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Horikoshi believes in the kill the rapist because he made Stain kill the rapist at the point he was showing Stain is as an ally of justice. That each of his redeemable villains have some victimhood to them and their stories are explained away or retconned whenever they cross the line so they are justified, doubt he'd be anything but 'but some people are too far gone'. I think I remember him quoting something like a villain who enjoys killing is beyond redemption implying Muscular. So some criminal who enjoys their crime or derives some emotional gratification from it should have been automatically disqualified no? The only reason the LoV are excused is because of the child abuse angle.

He is literally so inconsistent with his treatment of villains. He milks LoV for sympathy and throws the rest under the best. Muscular too could have had a sad backstory! It is a pointless metric and yet we are supposed to be sad for Toga and not Muscular. Be real. LoV is just such a uwu poor pathetic meow meows angsty teens

It's insane how Stain is treat as someone who makes some points when he basically was murdering EVERY hero who is not All Might. The guy is nuts

Ochako should've killed her immediately or neutralized her in other ways. Her friends are in mortal danger when she plays psychologists with Toga that doesn't freaking want to listen or put 2+2 together. Why is Toga prioritized over all the people she is endangering??? You think none of them had sad backstory?

#asks #bnha #himiko toga #it's just all over the place. Bits and pieces here and there. All mixed together to create low quality attention grabbing shounen #i fucking hate this manga so much smt too bad it gave me a brainrot #bnha manga spoilers

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iznsfw · 5 months

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Trouvaille

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 1 - Kwon Eunbi

IZ*ONE's Kwon Eunbi x Male Reader Smut

21,183 words

Categories | best friend!Eunbi, facefucking, cum swallowing, against the wall, anal

The most unrealistic thing about this, besides getting to fuck Eunbi, is that she has sex with glasses on.

“Two things. I need you to tell me two things before I kill you in front of everyone. And trust me, I’m very good with a gun.”

“Oh no,” you say grumpily, and a little more sarcastically, while you're gathering your things into the gray backpack you’ve used through its tatters. “How will I ever see the light of day again?”

Eunbi barely looks intimidating anyway in the toga that sags around her small body. The fabric’s a blackish-blue waterfall that drags on the ground. You’re surprised mud hasn’t done its wicked way with it. It began raining earlier, see, and now, except for the mud as evidence, it's as if it never happened. The heat has become too much.

Everything is too much.

“You won’t,” Eunbi says, tongue between her teeth, “but save yourself for once. Tell me what’s going on.”

Right above the garment, her long tresses fall over her shoulders. Earlier last year, she had it cut and everyone fell for her instantly. But you’ve always taken the speedy growth of her hair a victory for your side.

No victories right now though. It’s supposed to be a grand day—the scam that is college has finally run its course, and today you ought to celebrate and throw your cap in the air like everyone else.

But you’re still completely, royally pissed off.

Turn your back. Clear answer, with other possible variations that basically say the same thing: I’m not telling you shit. Nope. Stop bugging me. Brat.

She follows, and she’s a shadow behind you who’s too pretty to be one. But you lengthen your steps. Hope she doesn’t pursue you, but she’s always done that. Since you were kids on the playground, she’s never let you deal with things on your own. It’s forever been Eunbi will help you, Eunbi will stay with you, Eunbi will talk for you.

Why must that knowledge swirl a puzzling mix of emotions in you? She has not once left you alone, and yet here you are, forcing her to do so.

A pair of leather shoes and high platforms (which give way to the illusion that she’s barely shorter than you) pave through the cobblestone ground of the campus you’ll never dream of returning to. You say that yet you and Eunbi are the only other few graduates remaining on the premises. Why? It’s not like you have anything or anyone to be melancholic about.

She walks in the corner of your line of vision. Alright, maybe someone.

You’ve tried to avoid eye contact but you turn to her anyway. She’s always been this easy on the eyes, even when you were high schoolers with wild hormones and sensitive young hearts. Sharp nose, intelligent brown eyes, and pretty smile—she could’ve been a real heartbreaker back then if she weren’t hanging out with you. She could’ve been everything, because this town is too simple, too small for a girl of her caliber.

Turn your eyes away before she could notice. Broken out of your train of thought, you start to notice how your bag knocks your spine repeatedly. Painfully. With the way your notebooks from years and years ago are bumping around in there, you’d think you were carrying a luggage good enough to give you a week’s worth of supplies.

“Ugh.” Eunbi pinches her nose irritably, allows the sounds to continue for a good three seconds, then pulls the source off you. "Dumbass. Alright, now tell—”

“No. Become a nun. Live a good life. Go eat ice cream with Chaewon or something.”

“She likes mint chocolate, so no. I’m never eating that shit.”

“You’ll live.”

“Oh, I will”—she taps your bag, smiling evilly—”and I’ll take the bag with me.”

You sigh loudly. “Eunbi.”

Oh no, don’t get it wrong: she’s always like this. It's not just today that she pushes your buttons, catty with her negotiations and even more so when you turn them down. She discreetly takes control with a sleight of hand, and you never see it coming. You wish luck to whoever smug kindergartner she’ll be an educator to in the future. She’ll quickly show him his place, just like she’s shown you yours.

“What?” she says with a derisive smirk. She pulls on the arms of the backpack to boost its weight up. “No tell, no bag.”

At this point—

“I don’t give a fuck, Eunbi,” you spit. "You have bigger things to worry about.”

Pause. You briefly consider telling her how your grand day was shattered by your own self and thinking, but you don’t want to bother her. She's your best friend. You shouldn't be making her listen to your woes.

Close your mouth; you didn’t even realize it was hanging open for a while.

You exhale through your nostrils. “Do yourself a favor and take care of something else.”

You walk away. That was supposed to be the end of the story. It's the hashtag at the end of an article, the death of the conversation. But wide strides can’t keep her from coercing an answer out of you.

You know that because she’s suddenly pulled you by the wrist then so close to herself that even your cloaks can’t bar yourselves from each other. Her body presses below your chest. Her stern eyes hush you. You can quite literally feel her breathing.

“I think I can handle it,” she says, gaze steady and chin lifting, “much more if it’s you.”

Okay, so maybe you underestimated how intimidating she can get.

She’s a small girl, lying her way into five foot three, but she’s surprisingly strong. You’re more than aware of that to avoid testing if her palm on your heart is sturdy. Her fierce glare, needling into your integrity, is something new. Frightening, too. Her jaw—(oh, and you can never give that perfectly cut line it’s incredibly lucky to possess a normal glance)—is tight with determination.

For a moment, you think you know how to speak but just forgot to completely.

You get the hang of it after a few seconds when you crack a smile. “Can’t tell you anything if you got your hands on me, little raindrop.”

Eunbi squints her eyes, then folds her arms neatly. “A silver rain drop. And I’m not little, I’m one sixty flat.”

“Take that cap off and we’ll see.”

You’re not exactly a top student, but you’re smart enough to run away before she whacks you with her rolled diploma.

(It somehow lightens your mood, because if there’s anything you love more than your phone and street food, it’s Eunbi’s tiny, challenging self trying to one you up. Her light punches are like package peanuts trying to make a dent in you. And it’s just so adorable seeing her face turn dark as she aims for you, and fails.

Oh, and it’s all in good banter. It wouldn’t be a friendship if those jabs were spiteful. There are a lot of relationships out there, both platonic and not so, where insults are masked behind “jokes” and jokes behind insults—you’re glad that doesn’t count for you and her.

But even if we’re to say that Eunbi’s cornering you to the wall, suddenly having grown taller than you, and snarls, with a knife to your throat, “Say good night forever,” you’d kiss her and tell her: “I won’t let the bedbugs bite.”)

"Two, please. Thank you."

Slip the paper bills in the vendor's brown, rough hand and slap yours back on Eunbi's shoulder. You’re still surprised at the bareness you feel, then you remember she's since stuffed her toga in your backpack because of the heat. Now she’s wearing a sundress that flows around her like water.

Look at her discreetly. You’re wondering how she managed to hide all… that. The fabric fits and compliments her figure too much to go unnoticed. You have to pretend to be curious about the boiling process of the eomuk again to avoid staring at her slim arms.

"I still don't get why you call me that," she says. She pulls the drooping strap of her dress back up her shoulder, and you swear you’re gonna lose it.

Take deep breaths. You can do this. "Call you what?"

"You know." She daintily taps away a bead of sweat from her forehead and looks up at you. "'Little raindrop.'"

You return her stare eye for an eye. You have to admit it was a feeble attempt. Whenever you look at her, you're overcome with the realization that she's just so beautiful. Her brows are naturally curved and shaded, and there’s just the tiniest dimple at the side of her mouth when she smiles hard. Who in the world just has a face like that?

But you can't dwell on it. It's a dangerous premise, and you're a rightful coward.

"Ah." Your fingers tap comfortable rhythms on her skin. "Because… hm. Bi means rain, right? And you’re small, a.k.a little. So there you have it."

A crowd sifts through the streets and roads opposite your university, and occasionally daring motorists. Graduates fill the sidewalks to purchase street food. It's been this cramped since forever. You can't believe this is the last time you'd ever see this commotion: nameless faces that have matured through the years occupying every space, scentful smoke that wafts in the air, and, of course, the familiar sight of these stalls on wheels catering to young'uns like you short on cash.

Now that you think it over once more, perhaps you'll miss this place more than you thought you would.

"Well, would you say it, uh…” Eunbi taps her chin. “Hm, derogatively?"

"Oh, come on," you say, shaking your head emphatically, "I would never."

"Good, because I just lost your bag."

Your eyelids suddenly stop drooping. Realize only this second that you haven't felt torn fabric on the shoulder you’ve been caressing.

"Eunbi, what the—"

"Kidding, it's right here." Eunbi lifts it up in the air cheekily. "Gotcha."

"Oh, fuck off," you groan. Push her away, but not so much that she's out of arm's length. There are people whose intentions aren't so nice in this crowd.

Eunbi's adorable, you have to admit. Every day that rises is April Fools Day for her. She loves pulling pranks on you and commits to the bit perfectly. It’s been like this since… forever. It’s like you were born knowing her.

With all that fake innocence on her face when she tells you a white lie for her prank’s sake, she could be an actress. For a moment, you wonder what you'll do if she does become one, if she finds out that she's more than this place is worth. Would she leave you with no warning? Make a name for herself and never bother to reach out?

You gulp a little. That could happen even without the entertainer job. You've been friends with her for ages. One day, she'll grow tired of you and seek brighter horizons. Finer places. Better men.

"You alright there?" Eunbi asks.

You envy her for a lot of things—her charm, her easy way of making new friends, those legs that she’s worked hard to tone. But right now, you’re jealous because she isn’t privy to all those things that run in your mind about wanting to do things to her. Stupid things like hold her hand, tell her something you shouldn’t, the works.

Jealousy won’t amount to anything, so you just nod. It's not like there's much to say that you won't be embarrassed of saying later.

"Well—"

Just in time, the kind vendor raises two eomuks from the bubbling broth. The delicious scent makes your mouth water. "There you go," he says in his usual jolly way that always makes you laugh. "Congrats on the graduation!"

"Thanks!" Eunbi says, always the first to be grateful. She takes hers and the aforementioned dimple on her cheek shows itself again. Your chest squeezes.

"Don't forget me when you're rich." His jovial face almost looks sentimental. "One for the gentleman and one for his girlfriend."

Your smile fades into a nervous line. "She's not my girlfriend," you say carefully.

It's more embarrassing each time you have to say it. Are you too close with her? Probably; your arm is always around her and she's one of the few consistent friends you have. She's been by your side longer than anyone. People are gonna think something’s going on along the way.

The vendor nods mockingly, as if to say “yeah, sure,” and winks at Eunbi. She winks back, but fails to halfway—her left eye scrunches up.

"Don't listen to him," you tell her. You walk away from the crowd; it's suddenly begun to feel warmer than usual. "He likes to play around a lot. Even in first year he was like that.”

“Eh. It's not like he said anything bad.” She sinks her teeth into the skewered food and shrugs.

"It's invasive."

"Invasive," she repeats thoughtfully, (chewing thoughtfully, too.) “Okay. But how?”

"Because… ‘cause…" Suddenly, you find there's no appropriate reason you could dream up to justify your uneasiness. "It's, you know, strange when people do that."

“I don’t mind, honestly.”

You find that you swallow on nothing rather than the delicious treat you’re holding.

The place becomes too much, with the heated smoke eventually making Eunbi hack a cough and the sweaty people surrounding you more than they should. So you squeeze between them with her and go on for a resolute walk down the road. Just a few blocks up ahead, you can see the sun setting. It reflects back and pours a hefty amount of light on your figures. Your shadows synchronize with your steps.

“You don’t?” you ask, just to make sure you heard her right. The possibility of her being so comfortable with you that she isn’t bothered to be called yours… it’s a lot to handle. She shouldn’t just place that on your shoulders and expect you not to buckle.

Try to keep your knees from folding at the idea as you walk down the familiar streets. The roads reside in a subdivision that's humbler than the others, hence the houses being small and more trees standing above you. But you don't mind—you need a break from the urban place anyway.

Your university stays a little near the border between them. That's why more street food stalls come up to view and a few thrift stores. Is this the last time you'll come here?

The last time you'll see her?

“No. Why would I? Alright, now that we’ve got things all nice and settled…” Eunbi takes your wrist. Tightly. She's not going anywhere, and neither are you. “Back to telling.”

“Telling you what?”

“You really wanna play dumb with me?” She presses the point of her skewer to your stomach, seizing you by the waist. “Get those words out. Now.”

"Hit me."

"Two things, right? So answer me." Eunbi's fingers wrap tighter around your flesh. "Why were you crying in the bathroom? What happened?"

Oh.

That.

You're quiet. You look only forward, not daring to meet Eunbi's eyes. If anything, the stick could dig into your guts and it would be infinitely better than having to admit you’re weak. You’ll have to tell her one day. You’ll have to admit that you’re not a better guy just because you’re the only one who has the balls to approach her—you’re just like the rest of them. Nothing special. Grades barely there. Average, probably not even so. Everything but nothing.

“I wasn’t crying,” you say. You can’t remember what happened anyway, but saying what you do leaves a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

The eomuk stick drops to the ground with barely a click. “Are you lying?”

It’s rare that her voice gets solemn. It’s less rare that you rush behind words to cover yourself.

You fix the mortarboard on her head so that it doesn’t slip past her brows. The staff didn’t quite take her measurements properly, so you had to tip the cap backwards. Good enough. “Think you can figure that one out yourself, Eunbi.”

You give her a look that tells her all that she needs to know. It’s not like you can explain properly with this state of mind. What else can you say?

What else can she say?

Perhaps:

“Please.”

Everything stops.

Eunbi takes your hand, which looks large in comparison to her pale one, and traces a finger along your knuckles. Look down at them—those are the days that’ll go by, the months that’ll lose themselves into the void of timeless time. It could never be the same if fate wills itself to change one of these days, and you wouldn’t even know it. Not even a warning.

“It’s just me.” Her voice thins, and you figure out that she’s sort of like you, too: it’s not rare for her to hide behind words and wit. “I’m your friend. You can tell me anything. Please tell me what happened, okay? I hate seeing you get upset.”

You wish you could tell her that it’s the same on your end. Eunbi’s the girl you let climb in your lap after a thunderstorm provoked her, the girl you comforted after she had her heart broken by the man she was convinced was the one. Through it all, you tried to be strong for her, but there’s little foundation to build from.

The side of your mouth twitches upward. “Do you now?”

Eunbi’s shoulders descend as they release a tired little sigh. She nods, refusing to say anything until you take the lead.

“Well, if you want to hear the whole story,” you say as you ring an arm around her, “I was already having a pretty shit day to begin with.”

“Why?” She chews on her lip. Pink gets on her teeth.

“Didn’t feel like I deserved to graduate.”

See, there are a lot of justifications as to why you didn’t deserve to go on stage and receive your diploma. You aren’t worthy of this toga and hat when you’ve barely accomplished anything compared to the others. They’ve already scored internships and some even sealed some higher positions in well-off companies. You, on the other hand, haven’t got anything going on for you.

That rings true for as far back as first year. You cheated (rarely) but still barely passed. Studied but never got the answers right for the test. Kept a strong face but you’re still in pieces on the inside. Now that you’re graduating, you’re the same guy after all that time.

“I had a… very weird time in there trying to get myself together,” you say. “I did nothing to make mom proud. I just bullshit my way through college.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Eunbi hums quietly. Is that her side pressed to your hip? You suck in a breath.

“I mean, sure, but look at how far they got. I’m still in square one.”

“Different speeds for different people,” she says wisely, looking down at her shoes that begin their steps at the heel. “You don’t have to beat yourself up for going at your own pace.”

You chuckle deprecatingly. “When I’m a dumbass, I should.”

“You’re not.”

“You literally admitted you had a hunch I was stupid when I thought your name was Geumbi.”

“No, no, that was a long time ago. I was like, fourteen. It wasn’t my fault. And neither was it yours.”

She steals a bite from your food. A withdrawal from her as she finishes her robbery and yet you bring her back. Do it by stopping, then wiping away the broth on her lower lip with your thumb. Where did that come from?

Eunbi’s frozen. For a moment, she says nothing. She pauses, then looks up at you. Just a simple look from her makes you weak. There are galaxies in her eyes.

“Actually,” says Eunbi, hand floating to your wrist—her voice is soft, “you’ve got to stop thinking everything’s your fault.”

Where should your touch go when all it yearns for is hers?

It's easier said than done, too. Therapy fills your brokenness yet it drains out anyway. All those methods and you can't stick to one. Everything bad that happens is your fault. It's like you're connected to them all.

“I’ll try." Your words barely pass audibility. Should you be ashamed? "I don’t like this either.”

Eunbi presses her lips to the back of your hand then goes on strolling like she didn’t just save you from another spiral. Haughtiness rides her tone. Yep, she knows she’s your anchor. “You can start by carrying your own bag instead of me doing—” She pauses. All the sass is gone; just pure fear. “Shit.”

Your forehead creases and you look around. Nothing out of the normal, just the birds of seldomness and trees that sway with the wind. “What?”

“Don’t be mad at me.” Eunbi bites her lip anxiously. “Promise me. Please.”

“What is it?”

She tells you.

“Eunbi lost your backpack?”

For the hundredth time: “Yes.”

"Like actually?"

"Yep."

“With the notes and sketches you had? What the hell?”

“God, you don’t have to rub it in like that.” You navigate through the streets and try to catch onto anyone perhaps holding a familiar satchel. Nobody fits the description. “We didn’t notice until we were alone.”

You and Eunbi do the very thing characters in horror movies shouldn’t do: you split up. She returns to the food vendors to ask around. They’d cater better to a face like that. You’re left to do the hard work and follow random people to see if they’ve brought away a bag. You really should have reversed roles, but Eunbi’s gone now. You can’t call it off.

The crowds are starting to dissipate, but that doesn’t make your hunt for your bag easier. Whoever stole it must have thought it was his lucky day. That shit was thrifted off a store, but it could sell for thousands if refined just right.

All those documents, lecture takeaways, pencils…

It’s not like they matter anymore. You wouldn’t dream of going back to school, so they won’t have much use in the long run. But those things played a major part in your life, especially in college. Losing it feels like missing a piece of a puzzle you spent nights completing.

“That’s so damn irresponsible of her. Not like her, too. She's a fucking—”

“—adult. Like me. Yes. We’ve gone over this.”

You must look like a local pervert right now, peering at people’s lower sides in search of your treasure. You hope they don’t get you wrong. Women are already giving you dirty looks though. Shit, you’re going nowhere with this.

“You don’t have to defend her every time she does something,” mutters your friend Sakura from the other line. Her accent has lost its origins a long time ago. Now, it carries teasing scorn.

Where the fuck could your bag be? Turn your head to the right, then to the left. There you go, you’re a fucking bobblehead doll. Feel even more ridiculous. It’s all a little humiliating, exposing a vulnerability to people you don’t know. Hey, look at me! I can’t find something important! And I can’t ask you for help because that would mean I’m a shameless piece of shit with no dignity and I’m too childish to graduate and—

“I’m not defending her, Miyawaki,” you blurt out, a little louder than you’d like. More dirty and judgmental looks. Always the centerpiece, you, and for all the wrong reasons. “Go back to gaming, can you?”

“Ha. You’re the one who called me and said, ‘Oh no, I’m with Eunbi again and I’m so in love with her!’” Sakura lets out a smug little laugh. “Just ask her out, dumbass. That way you won’t have to play attorney all the time.”

“I’m not asking her out, dumbass. She's just a friend.”

“Ask her out or Hyewon will. Hyem’ll say shit like, ‘She can lose my bag anytime—“

“Hey.” Eunbi comes up empty-handed. Her words are heavier with each passing fragment. She doesn’t have to say them for you to know her search was fruitless, just like yours was. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see it. I asked around, too.”

Your hopes are dashed. “Call you back,” you whisper into the phone.

“Tell me how the date goes!”

With a small beep, Sakura is gone, (thankfully.) (And so is her song about you and your best friend sitting in a tree doing something so lewd you could only spell it out.) It’s just you and Eunbi, in the gentle end-of-September sunset.

“Now, would you look at that.” Eunbi laughs sarcastically. Sweat usually drips from the side of the face, right? Not the front? She throws her hands up and places them back down her sides anyway. “I guess I did lose the bag after all.”

Something’s wrong. What is it?

You stare at her, not knowing what to say. It is kind of ironic in a biting-you-back-in-the-ass way that Eunbi’s kidding threat about losing your stuff actually came true.

“You sure you didn’t see it anywhere?” you ask. You’re starting to lose determination. And for what? You did say you didn’t give a damn about it earlier. How easily your words come to you when you only think of yourself.

“W-well—”

Yep, there's definitely something wrong. Kwon Eunbi doesn’t stutter. Unless she’s mocking Minju, who’s almost always nervous, or does aegyo as a punishment, she doesn’t trip over her words. “What?”

“Fuck it, I’m sorry, okay?”

Tears come too easily even to the gutsy Eunbi. It’s always been her Achilles’ heel. She’s a great and friendly leader, but one nice word that hits her right where it needs it or a bad day has her reduced to sobs. She smiles through them, wiping the teardrops with the end of her wrist.

“And don’t tell me it’s fine just because I’m crying,” she says. The frustration gets to her and soon her sobs attract attention. “It was, a-a shitty thing to do on my end. I know it’s not okay, but I’m sorry.”

She’s a tearful painter of emotions under a night littered with starry skies.

She doesn’t have to hold the brush for the two of you all the time.

Take the brush from her just like how you take her into your arms. Eunbi says not to absolve her of her sin, but you’re a god whose mercy merges with bias. You like her too much. There’s something that pulls at your chest whenever she breaks down.

The tension partially leaves her stiff shoulders. She sniffles, and it’s an attack straight to your heart. It’s so rare that she becomes so weak.

“Eunbi—”

She shakes her head before you could go on. “Don’t say it. Please. Let me make it up to you.”

“I’ll say it anyway. It’s fine. I can’t use the stuff in there anyway.”

“I said no. Hmph.” Her tears blot the front of your shirt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I would cry like this. Don't feel guilty, okay? Okay? I just don’t like giving you a hard time.”

“You never could.” You’d trade more than a backpack for Eunbi’s wellbeing.

Somehow, Eunbi cries more. Her hug circles your waist in almost a chokehold, and you realize that the Kwon Eunbi from years back—the one who made everyone call her Madison, the one who’s always glued to your side—is still here. She’s just older, a little braver, and prettier than you could ever imagine.

Emphasis on the last. Her lashes carry her tears in a biblically beautiful manner, like you ought to kneel and venerate her. The southward curl of her lips is so cute yet painful that you’d give anything to see them lift again.

“You don’t have to say I didn’t do anything wrong…” she tells you quietly. You could hear the guilt infecting her words, evident in the cracks of her voice.

“Well.” You touch your mouth on her hairline. “You have a way of making me say it.”

There’s no mourning for your bag. You suspect that there was none at all, perhaps just shock? Must be why you’re cradling her, like a child would to a doll at night, and letting her feel your touch. Maybe the way she’s closing herself into your embrace is platonic, because at the end of day, you’re still friends. But you don’t feel her breath on your skin for a while after you indirectly forgive her.

Eunbi lifts her face from the comfort of your front. Pouting, she then laughs a little. “What are you doing? You don’t have to be so sweet.”

“I could be sweeter,” you offer. She sighs loudly, tired of your mischief; you grin and pat the small of her back. “Come on, let’s go home.”

The night has downed the temperature, and now the breeze whips her small form back and forth. It’s too cold for her to be walking with no sleeves or at least trousers. So you lift your toga up and slip it around her. It’s bigger than the one she had and lost with your bag. Her hands barely fight their way out of being hidden under the long blue sleeves.

Her eyes reduce to suspicious slits while a smile pastes itself on her lips. “You’re a flirt, you know that?”

You shrug casually. “Born and raised.”

“That’s not how you use it,” Eunbi says, wiping the last of her tears.

"Might as well go on. I opened the can of worms, now I'll lie in it."

"Jesus."

"What? I made my bed more than I could, now I'll eat it."

“Wow, it’s like you never listened to professor June.”

Wasn’t it just afternoon a few minutes ago? The sky has become a blueish black landscape. The only sources that provide illumination to the streets and alleys are the streetlights and moon, plus the twelve especially bright stars etched into the map of constellations.

“Okay, miss Oh My Gadnis,” you fire back. She gives you a dirty look. You immediately take it back.

She throws her head back and lets darkness take over her vision for a while. Gulp. The light welcomes itself back and she lets out a prolonged, wistful breath. Tiny sobs glaze it. “It’s Minju’s fault. She was always shouting that in the dorm. Makes me kind of miss her.”

In the last years of university, Eunbi made friends with eleven girls. She was the leader of their friend group, the one who made plans and provided solutions. But as graduation crept closer and eventually caught up with them, she won’t be seeing them much again.

“I can always drive you to your meet-ups. Didn’t get a driver’s license for nothing.”

“You don’t have to. I already fucked up your day.”

“You didn’t. It’s just a bag, little raindrop.”

The chilly atmosphere tracks your nighttime conversation with your best friend. What do the songbirds, sleeping yet eavesdropping, think of you and her? Does the moon brighten to increase your shadows? It’s like they’re listening in.

She looks down at the edges of her shoes as they mark their path to home. “What brand was it? I’ll buy you a new one. I-I’ll send the notes to you.”

“No can do. Just do this one thing.”

And now, the night quiets.

When time has chipped away at the lack of lines on your faces and brought forth hell, you’ll be there. Together. You won’t go back here anymore, but there will be prettier places for you and her. It’s what you pray for though you’re not all that spiritual, but you know it’s what you want.

“Let’s… be friends until we’re old and miserable,” you ask of her. Even admitting that you want to be with her makes you shy, and you’re anything than that when you’re around her. So why is this happening? Why are you doing this? “Spend more time together. Doesn’t have to be something grand.”

Eunbi blinks at you. There are undertones to your words, some kind of hidden message a veteran film critic could pick apart if your life were a movie. You’re asking her to be with you, yet there’s depths to it, almost like you’re telling her another thing.

“Sure,” she whispers, nodding. She can do that.

Again, a lot of subtext. But that’s for another night.

“Oh,” you add, “and be my backpack since you lost it anyway. Get up.”

Eunbi flinches, but she’s smiling the second you lower yourself for her.

“Come on. You’re tired, little raindrop. I’ll take you home.”

She sighs. She climbs on your back anyway. You support her legs with your forearms and boost her up. You pay your gratitude to the dark for hiding your flushed cheeks at the feeling of your friend’s body pressed so tight to yours.

“Please don’t do silly shit,” she begs, placing her face next to your neck and fearing the worst.

She’s right to be frightened. Lowering yourself nearly to the ground in preparation, you yell: “Here comes the rollercoaster!”

“No, no, no—ahhhh!”

You zoom Eunbi in the night, feet picking up speed and racing through the road. Her arms are rounded around your neck. She shrieks in delight, and while along the way your legs start to ache, you’re just glad to hear that laugh again.

Gently push the door to your house open with the help of Eunbi's keys, which come with a keychain of a knitted rabbit. Darkness greets you, spreading itself around the house like water.

“Why is it so dark?” whispers Eunbi, looking around and twisting her arms around your neck tighter.

“You’re such a baby," you chuckle. "It's nighttime, of course it's gonna be dark."

Eunbi whines and squeezes her legs around you. The feel of her fluffy thighs in the curve of your palms—it's… something. You can't think like that about her when she's your best friend, but she's so close, so perfect on top of you that your mind runs with ideas.

"Alright, fine. Turn on the light."

"Where?"

"You’ve slept over so many times and you don't know where it is?"

"Doesn't count when I can't see, genius."

"Right here." Twist your head to the wall, where a light switch stays. "Just near the door."

Eunbi reaches out her hand, and you're cohorts with the dark when you secretly inch the fluff of your sleeve against her fingers. She screeches, suddenly struggling, calling your name and whoever Fuck is.

This is the way of your prank backfiring on you: her limbs are surprisingly strong that her feather-light weight becomes too much. Your legs start to shiver. Your hands weren’t made to suffer this much wildness.

"Something touched me!" Eunbi screams, kicking you in the spine. You try to hold on to her but her legs don't behave. "A mouse, a mouse, a—"

You start to laugh. She's like a proactive rabbit trying to beat you up. "Calm down, it was just—"

"My hand, it touched my hand! Disgusting piece of shit, get it off—"

"Eunbi!"

She both clings onto you and pushes you away, scared of what lurks in the dark. You can't take it anymore and drop miserably to the floor. The tiles knock your back out. Eunbi won’t let go of you; her screams never stop.

"Help! My hand—"

"What's going on here?"

The light flickers on, letting you see what's happening. You're in the living room that connects portallessly to the dining room. The ceiling generates dizzy circles above you. And then there's Sakura, an unexpected presence, standing near you.

"Whoa there," she remarks, smug like she’s a journalist who caught a forbidden celebrity couple. "There's a time and place for this, right?"

For a moment, you wonder what she's talking about. You sit up and realize Eunbi's squeezed herself on your lap, with your arms tangled into hers during the mess.

Flush red. Sakura will never let you hear the end of this: you cradling Eunbi on the floor, with her looking so comfortable snuggled up to your touch. “Something couple something something perfect for each other,” that's what Sakura would say.

"It was just a prank," you mumble to the girl on your lap. Pat her head. Show her the fluffy fabric cuff of your sleeve. "See? There's no mouse."

"What the hell? You're such an asshole!" Eunbi's blade-sharp gaze, it cuts through you. You want to keep bleeding, It's unfair how pretty she is even when she's angry.

"Hey, I can do pranks, too." Turn to Sakura, because the next thing you're wondering is how she's here. "How did you get in, Miyawaki?"

"I drove," she says, like it explains everything. "Should we eat? Your dad left some food in the microwave."

Eunbi turns shy at Sakura's knowing look as she rises. She pulls you up. The veins in her forearm flex.

Sakura leaves anyway to fetch the food. You can smell spring rolls and freshly-cooked rice. Your stomach churns—running with Eunbi on your back has burned all that eomuk and left you hungry.

You look at Eunbi questioningly. "Do you know why she's in my house?"

"No.” She returns your curious expression. “I was hoping you would tell me."

“Christ, what's she doing here?"

"I'm here," butts in the Japanese girl, bringing forth a plate of crispy rolls and utensils, "because I personally want to help Eunbi unnie in making it up to you.”

She takes the liberty of scooping chunks of rice onto your plates. You dig your fork through one of the spring rolls, place it on Eunbi’s small plate, then get one for yourself. The wooden image of Jesus on watches you closely. You’re suddenly aware of every little sin you’ve made.

“Listen,” says Sakura, and you do just that.

So here’s Sakura’s brilliant idea, funded by her and her friends (somehow, Eunbi doesn’t get to contribute a cut): a trip for Christmas.

It’s out in Seoul, where it’s snowing at that time of the year, where you’ll get to roam the city and buy whatever you want—all on the house. There’s ice skating to do and restaurants to try, each new and exciting. You’ve never been to Seoul before, but the way Sakura narrates the whole plan makes you look forward to it.

She talks about how her new job is paying her great, and how the fact that the other girlfriends Eunbi has are chipping in makes it an all-in-all win. It’s a friend’s duty, she says, to stick up for when one of them is down, and since Eunbi made a mistake, she’ll gladly take the blame. You’re surprised at how dedicated the girls are. You’ve never seen a bond so deep that they’d pay thousands just for compensation. And for just a thrifted old bag, too.

It’s inevitable that you agree. You have nothing to lose. This is a chance of a lifetime, and you’d love to have a vacation anyway.

Sakura only has one stipulation:

You have to go with Eunbi.

Now it’s not that Eunbi is hard to be around, but she kinda is. It’s not in the usual way—she’s your best friend, not any other girl, and she’s not overly dependent that you have to act as her father or something. She can take care of herself, which can’t be said about a lot of people.

But this is what sets you off: you’ll be the only one with her in Seoul. A guy and a girl sharing a hotel room. Would it be awkward? Of course. How do you tell her that you won’t look when she dresses up? What do you tell her if you find her bra in your sheets?

Still, she’s your best friend. It shouldn’t be awkward around friends, especially when you’re on the journey of spending more time together. That’s the whole point of the relationship: to be free and careless around someone. It’s supposed to be like that until you see how pretty she actually is, with the flow of her long hair and the crinkle of her eyes.

That’s where it gets difficult. Really, really difficult.

“Hey,” she says, and that’s what breaks your reverie. Looking up at her, however, has you drowned in another.

Black-framed glasses sit on her nose, curling at the ends behind her ears. Her hair is pulled up into a ponytail, some fringes flying free from the band. It’s such a deadly attack. Then there’s the graphic shirt that hugs her too tight and the denim shorts that cut too close to the starts of her thighs.

You gulp. When you thought Eunbi couldn’t get prettier, she proves you wrong.

“You like it?” she asks. She twirls around. “I got glasses.”

“I see that,” you reply. Why is your chest immoveable?

Eunbi grins. “I couldn’t say that until I went to EO.”

You force out a laugh. You look at your phone, scrolling through your feed in search of a little reprieve from how pretty she is. At this point, it’s a constant run around your mine: Kwon Eunbi is so pretty. And she’s not just pretty, too. That’s what makes her so beautiful: the duo of feistiness and painful attractiveness. Can you say that? No. But that doesn’t mean you can’t think it.

The first thing Eunbi does when she takes the seat opposite you is swipe a finger through your ice cream. Glare at her. She beams at you. Your reprimand dissolves.

“How’d you know where I was?”

“Lucky guess,” she says. She decorates the sides of her face with her palms as she looks at you curiously. “What you thinking about?”

You. “I’m still not sure about the whole trip thing.”

"Come on," she says, and that pout knows how to break away at your attempts to ever hold her accountable for anything. "It's only weird if you make it weird."

Weird is fitting for October anyway. Should have ordered that Halloween special instead of this.

You were a solo customer in the ice cream parlor until Eunbi came out of nowhere. She always knows where to find you. Telepathy? Power of friendship? Power of something more than that?

You don't want to think about it.

"It's Sakura," you say, testily, as you shove another spoonful of double dutch in your mouth. The sweetness can't melt your anxiety. "It's always weird when it's Sakura."

Eunbi considers this. "What about when it’s me?"

“What?”

“I said: is it weird when it’s me?”

She’s clever at finding ways to make you stutter. “No,” you tell her quickly, “it’s not you, I promise. Just… it’s only us.”

You and Eunbi, alone in a hotel room. A straight man and woman in the same place, with nobody else around. You have fantasies about how it ends, but you know it'll never happen. But the thing is: you're stupid. You're going to do something you shouldn't, like watch her as she pulls long stockings over her legs. Think about more details than the shadow of her body on the glass shower panels let on. Want your best friend when it's everything you should never do.

“Is that so bad?” Eunbi sighs and looks around, thinking. As she takes in the jolly retro style of the parlor and the waitresses, she continues, “I mean, if you want to, I can find another way to, like, make things good. I can tell Sakura to call it off—”

“No!”

She looks at you surprisedly. Always, you speak before you think. To be fair, there’s a single thought behind your too-fast outburst: you can’t let this opportunity pass by. But rather than the grand city lights and expensive restaurants, you think about her.

You cover your mouth. Shit. You have no worries about fucking up in front of her. The worst thing she’d do is make a reference to it in future conversations or joke about it. But right now you’ve just revealed your true intentions.

You’re lucky Eunbi never takes things to heart.

“Okay, fine, geez.” She chuckles lightly, shaking her head at you. “You really need a vacation, huh?”

The only thing you need is silver rain, but you somehow always wield an umbrella.

“Do you like it?”

It’s what Eunbi says, on her knees before she sucks your tip. Groan you must because that tongue is too talented. It’s a skill you could only make faint guesses where it originated. For that, you don’t care anyway—not when she’s slipping and wrapping those perfect lips around your cock, the intent suction making you reel into her face. Almost knocks her specs away, and you wouldn’t want that to happen, would you? Her appeal just goes to an all-time high with them.

“Fuck, yes, Eunbi,” you say. “I love—”

“No. Now that I think about it, you don’t actually get to speak.” She teases your testicles and nurses on one, her hand attending to your stiff erection. “Not until I have my way with you.”

And she does. She switches back to your cock then, like an expert, she bobs her little head up and down, taking you in her throat like it was nothing. The chest of her tight shirt is stained with precum, and some of the foretelling liquid is in her hair. But when has she cared about that? Never, not in the time continuum of this room. She only likes to keep the propriety of servicing you, no matter how red her knees are or how sore her jaw gets.

Eunbi teases her tongue on the lower side of your cock then brings her lips up. You hiss. Her throat welcomes you again, and, with a hand on your thigh, she makes it work. She’s choking, and yet the clever little thing is so diligent with her work. Through choke and sob, those teary eyes looking up at you for validation, she continues. Spit dots your cock and so does lipstick. It’s smudged at the side of her chin.

She licks your cockhead repeatedly. It’s swollen, and she takes advantage of it by licking. And sucking. Then licking it again so rapidly you start to shake.

There’s a greedy glimmer in her tears. “Gonna cum?” she asks. “Please? I want you to.”

Fingers wrapping around your base, she goes down again. Her nose touches your pubic area. You can feel her hot breath tickling your flesh when she rises for a brief and subtle breath. Then it repeats: Kwon Eunbi is forcing her head up and down, lips wet with saliva and precum. The texture of her tight throat and the welcoming pleasure of her mouth brings you too close. Too damn close—

Fill her throat with white so much that she squeals in surprise. A little adorable giggle, then some more hardworking sucking to work your cum out of you. You want to tell her that you’ve become too sensitive, that she shouldn’t continue. But then you never want it to stop.

“Fuck! Eunbi, Eunbi, Eunbi—”

That’s what you say when she continues despite her breaths getting lost.

“Good girl. Good pretty girl.”

That’s what you say, with your hand on her ponytail, tugging it so she gets access to the oxygen she willingly deprived herself of. Her mouth’s filled with your semen. She’s gasping. Her chin’s lifted to the sky but her eyes gaze only at you. Your approval isn’t what she needs to get by solely, but god, does it make her think so.

“I love you.”

That’s what she says.

But like everything else—this blowjob that made you fail November’s challenge, the sweet talk, her on her knees, her actually liking you—

It could only ever be in your imagination.

December couldn’t come any sooner. Packing was an eventful occasion. You bunched up a lot of underwear in your carry-on like you had a habit of pissing yourself. It was only when you got to the airport that you realized that in all the rage to get clean underwear, you didn’t bring socks.

The twenty-third was a day you both dreaded and yearned for. But then you’re in the airplane, traveling through clouds you used to stare up at, and Eunbi’s beside you. Isn’t she always? She falls asleep a couple of times in the airport, head on your shoulder, and you pat her knee to slumber her. Her Sanrio neck pillow is of no use when you’re a better one.

Why can't you stop staring? She's been a tear in your heart for a long time, making it pulse and ache, but now she's gotten so much prettier, so much more friendly that it isn't really unexpected that you fall for her. Is that your confession to yourself? Perhaps. You could only ever say it to your own heart.

Picture this, (and, matching that of the many other scenes you’ve dreamed of her in, it would only be real for a while): Eunbi's wearing that shirt from the day she first sported glasses. On your lap. Looking at you with an aura any man with a heterosexual drawing could read. Hands on the edges of her knees.

She's leaning over, and she's saying—

"That little witch,” she spits, shoving her carry-on, “I can't believe we fly at seven and we had to be here at two a.m., I'm gonna kill Sakura!"

Close enough?

"You got a mouth on you, huh?" you remark. Pull her wheeled suitcase to the mouth of the plane.

Seoul is a paradise. You could see the greatness even from above. A couple of times you have Eunbi wake up to look, and she does. Her evident happiness shines brighter than the city lights.

"It's beautiful," she murmurs excitedly. Even her eyes that are heavy with sleep appreciate the view.

"So it is."

But you could think of other things that are prettier. Other people.

It's autumn, and the golden leaves are starting to fall. They crumple beneath your feet and release crackles that bring a strange sense of satisfaction. Step on another one. And another one. Somehow all your troubles are gone.

Look at her.

She’s reading from a book, paging through leaves containing yellowed words. She looks like a nerdy girlfriend with the new look, which you still haven’t gotten over. In any case, she’s so beautiful, and again, your heart is sore.

Eunbi’s deep into the story woven with Shakespearean words, but she catches your prolonged stare. Blinking, she lifts her head. Smiles. Cocks her head sweetly to the side and you swear she can’t look any better than this: long dark hair swaying ‘round her face and glasses making her more adorable. Says, “What ya lookin’ at, handsome?”

Yeah, all gone.

Eunbi loves playing around with nicknames, and she must think you’re vain enough for her to use that when she wants to rile you up. (She does.) You roll your eyes, and she laughs at her own ridiculousness and your attempt to be dismissive.

“Someone who’s prettier than ever,” you reply. Raise your chin. “You know her?”

“You really love me, huh?”

“Never said it was you.”

“Oh, darling.” Eunbi licks her lip. “I know it’s me.”

Well, shit.

Eunbi’s the only girl you know who could respond to your teasing. The only person, for that matter. Even the men start to back away. She’s the sole person who can handle you, and you yourself could barely handle her. Good friends don’t suddenly lose their breath when she gets near. Good friends don’t think of ever, ever crossing that borderline between platonicness and romance.

So it’s safe to say you’ve been a bad friend all along.

“Since you’re, like, so obsessed with me…” Eunbi rises and hands you her phone. The phone case is red—of course. “Take a picture of me, please?”

She rises from the bench, and you wince inside at how good she looks. It should seriously be prohibited to look that attractive. You've tried to keep your head clear of her, but then she stands up in those teeny tiny safety shorts, fucking hugging her thighs and that supple backside. Why did she choose to go in that? Not even a skirt to go with it, or dress pants? You’re not one to nitpick at what others wear, but you feel something stirring inside you when she dresses more freely.

And red—it just looks so good on her, doesn't it? That simple tight sweater has you begging for forgiveness. You'd go to a priest, confess your sinful yearning, and you don't think that he'd forgive you after how you describe it.

"Will do," you say, chewing on your lip. "Get to posing. We don't have all day."

"Not to burst your bubble," she tells you, " but we do. But I'm a good girl, so I'll do as you say."

Swallow. Why the fuck is she like this?

"You sure as shit aren't, little rain—"

She bends over.

The question repeats in your head. She bends over, (forward anyway), but if any shameless man were to walk behind her, they'd get an eyeful of her butt. You want to tell her she shouldn't do this, especially when her bottoms grip her thighs as a sole factor. But she's holding her bag in the edges of her fingers and angling her head to the side, and you know you’re over.

"—drop."

Eunbi smirks, haughty and proud. "Cat got your tongue back there?"

"Not even close. Give me a smize."

Proud of yourself for recovering quickly, you snap a photo of Eunbi. The look she gives the camera (you?): relaxed brows, slight pout, the black eyewear being the cherry on top—it's not easy baggage to carry for a man like you.

You put the phone down. Take a breather; you always have to when you're with her. Kwon Eunbi, national heart player. Kwon Eunbi, number one prank puller. Kwon Eunbi—

—your friend. Your best friend.

"What's wrong?" All that confidence evaporates from her as she walks up to you, concern taking its place.

She can be really scary sometimes. How could she be a flirt one second then a sweetheart the next? You're kept guessing, and you're guilty for liking girls like that. But as you study her, look at Kwon Eunbi—her hair and the band that sits atop it, her lips, her face—you kind of figure out that there's no other girl like her.

And that scares you.

"Nothing," you lie. "You wanna go get coffee or something?"

"Actually," she states seriously, rising, "I do wanna go get coffee or something."

The twenty-fourth. The malls are crowded with people buying last minute presents, so you and Eunbi sat on the bench outside. It might be Seoul, but you’re not fighting your way through a crowd. While you stayed there and waited for time to feel wrong, a rich woman mistook you for a beggar, pitied you, and gave you a coin. As you stared at the bust on the metal, Eunbi laughed so hard you were not totally uncertain that she was going to throw up.

"We should leave," Eunbi says, "before someone tries to bring you to a damn church basement."

And the scene repeats itself again: you talk with Eunbi, like you've done a million times, as you go to your home for this night and the next. You talk about everything, because conversations come so easily when it's her. Whether it's about stupid people or school or what happened that day, the words flow naturally.

Eunbi bites her lip, hands on her hips. "It's getting late."

"That a problem for you?"

"No. Nope. It's just that… I can't believe it's going to be Christmas tomorrow."

Christmas lost its spark back when you got into college. You've graduated and still you find no solace in the stockings and evergreen trees. School—oh, its deadlines, its pressure, its it-won't-matter-in-five-years-but-I'll-make-you-think-it-will papers—really ruined things for you. Forever.

She drags her vision around everything: the sky of stars, the roads that are just a bit cleaner than the ones at your home, the claw machine arcade just across the sidewalk. She goes there, and you follow. Don’t you always?

"It’s Christmas and we're here," she continues. She manages a snortle. "Doesn't your dad feel lonely? I know mine does."

"He likes you, Eunbi. He doesn't mind."

You pull out a bill and slip it into the old exchanger. Sure enough, tokens spill from the gap. Count them in your palm. Divide it between the two of you. You and Eunbi always share, no matter how hard you try to make it seem annoying. You only ask for one drink and one straw. You split rice balls from that trip in grade eleven when your parents forgot to give you allowance for lunch, up until college when the two of you were too broke to eat anything else. What’s yours is Eunbi’s, and what’s Eunbi’s is yours.

"What first?" She studies the old arcade. It's filled with machines that are either anciently old or freshly new. No owner patrols the areas, but instead, a CCTV does so mounted perfectly on the corner of the walls. It watches your every move, reminding you to behave.

"Wanna get a Piglet?"

“A what?”

“A Piglet. You know, the one who looks like an armadillo.”

“What the fuck is an armadillo?” Eunbi says the English name with spite, almost spitting it into the ground.

“Forget it. I mean like the cartoon pig people say looks like you?”

"Oh. Nah. A good ol’ vibrating egg for me." She thrusts a thumb into the glass of an 18+ claw machine, where it tempts the player with boxed sex toys and hentai copies.

Heat flares at your cheeks. Now it’s not that you’re thinking of it, but it’s Eunbi’s dirty jokes that make you think of stuff you shouldn’t. Her on her bed, legs spread wide open as the toy pulses on her clit, her throwing her head back and crying…

"Spend my money wisely, please?" you croak out. Slip a token into one machine and start to crank at the lever.

"I'll be good."

Your hand curls tighter around the ball of the lever. You hate how you picture double meanings with everything she says. She doesn't deserve that. And you don't either.

Eunbi prances over to the Piglet machine anyway. You want to snicker at her antics, but it gets broken when you see her bend down. The jeans could only hug her backside so much. Her shirt lifts and you could see her tummy—that flat, soft midriff that you’ve wrapped your hands around when you guide her back on the occasion she runs too fast. Or when she needs to move away. She doesn’t mind; she touches you more freely anyway. But you wonder if she’d let you come up behind her and place your hands all over it, not as friends but as something more.

Because for a friend, she sure does take up a lot of your mind.

Put your focus on this keychain. Yes, this one. This keychain is cute. Would be nice to bring something home to your father. You guide the claw to the nearest one and slam the button. To your surprise, the metal actually hinges around the keychain. You could feel your soul lift up to your throat. It just needs to make it all the way to the hole—

“Shit!” you curse as the claw lets go. That can’t be fair, right? It was doing so well, then it just spread open again. What a waste of time and money.

“Loser,” giggles Eunbi. She shows off a Piglet stuffie, pink and simpering.

“Wow, really needed to hear that. Thanks, Eunbi.”

She lifts her shoulders. “Hey, for what it’s worth: I just got lucky.”

Tokens become nothing to you. You try again and again for a prize to make it your money’s worth, only to end up with nothing. Eunbi scores a candy from the kids’ section, and you could see her consider trying out the 18+ ones. The appeal of the Playboy magazines and the Japanese girls looking back lewdly at her with barely no underwear on is beguiling.

“Do you think I should try to get a dildo or something?” Eunbi asks, running her knuckles along the markered glass.

“You don’t even know if it’s clean.” You’re leaning against the outside exchanger, staring into nothingness. But you always manage a little response for Eunbi, as absurd as her questions are and as wild your thoughts are about her. “You might get an STD or some shit.”

Her face squeezes up in disgust. “Ew, right. Forget it.”

You feel her warm body press into your side later. You’re still surprised even though the girl never leaves you alone. Then her head is on your shoulder, just like in the airport, and your heart surges. How do you deal with her? Pet her arm, and somehow she finds a way to sink deeper in your touch. She looks up at you and offers you a kind smile.

“I got you the keychain,” she says. She drops the Seoul keychain on the hand she forced you to open and looks away modestly. “Saw you sweating over it.”

“Thanks.” You look down at it on your palm and feel warm inside. She really is so sweet. “Appreciate it.”

“Yeah,” Eunbi replies quietly. “It’s the least I could do.”

She purses her lips tightly and exhales through her nostrils. Guilt floats in her face like a dark shadow.

“If it’s about the bag, I already told you it’s okay. I mean, it’s just a bag.”

“So? It means a lot to you.”

Your thoughts race with your words and win, forcing them out. “You do, too.”

Is she blushing? No. No, can’t be. But she’s stroking your palm with the keychain on it, a little tilt at the edge of her lips. That’s kind of close to that. Friends do this, right?

Her touch feels both foreign and familiar. You want to reel back and apologize for something you didn’t do, but then you want to hold her. Make her happy. Is that alright?

“Speaking of which,” she says pensively, staring into nothingness like you are, “what do you think happened to it?”

“The bag? I dunno.” Bring back her attention—eyes on me—by actually holding her hand. Sometimes you could be so brave. Toy with it, swinging your joined hands in the air then pressing them to your chest. You laugh at the suspicion clear on her face. “Probably in some lost-and-found counter. Or someone actually stole it and was like, ‘yep, hit the jackpot.’”

“Like trouvaille,” she says.

“What?”

“Trouvaille,” Eunbi repeats. She breaks her gaze from the space on the road and looks down at her sneakers. “A lucky find.”

A lucky find.

Staring at her is your pastime at this point. Your focus glazes over her once more, and you drink her all up. Two locks of her hair are pulled and tied at the back, making her look absolutely gorgeous. You’re lost in her eyes, like they’re an ocean and you’re on a raft floating on its waves. And of course, those glasses—you’re convinced they were made to make you want to do sinful things to her.

But the urge to sweep her in your arms takes over, and it outweighs your lust. Or are they equal? She looks so beautiful, yet so handsome. So pure and sweet, yet such a bombshell.

“Forgive me, but I must reiterate.” She tilts her head with a silly little grin. “What ya looking at?”

You’ve figured it all out. You wonder why you were ever worried.

"Well," you lead a runaway lock of dark hair back behind her earlobe, "guess I’m just lucky to have found you. Even if you're a nuisance."

Her eyes crease up into half-moons. "And I'm lucky to have met you."

"Even… ?"

"Nothing after. Just that: I'm lucky to have met you."

You never meant to actually do it. But it’s become too silent, like the world is leaving the cards on your table to play. And there’s her certain hold on your fingers, like she wants you to do it. There’s the birds tweeting as they gather into the trees for the night, waiting for the show of a lifetime. The stars, too, are bright tonight.

So who could blame you for nailing her to the claw machine and finally, finally kissing her? Her lips are as soft as they look, and you’re melting in them. You’re still holding her hand, keeping it pinned up to her side. Your tongues come out to play and it’s so much better than you imagined, so much better than your stupid little fantasies. Your eyelids shut, too, because this is an experience you never want to end.

That collarbone will be the end of you. It peeks from the neckline of her shirt, and you suddenly have all the courage to seal your lips on it. If only you could have mustered the same courage back in college to socialize, but you’re glad you saved it all up for this moment. Eunbi’s moan is sharp, and it almost makes you falter, almost makes you stop. Nope, can’t do that. When she’s letting out all these other little sounds as you have your way with her, there’s no way you’d let up.

“Hmmm…” Eunbi twists her head to the side and cries out. It unintentionally grants you access to her flawless neck. You leave some flaws: purple bruises she whines at, harsh open-mouthed kisses that trail saliva all over that pale skin. “I need to tell you something.”

You brush your mouth behind her ear. You can smell her faint perfume. “And that is?”

“I lied about wanting to get a drink.” She scoffs at her desperation, then sighs. She gives in either way. “I fucking hate coffee. Hate it. Hate it like a mother hates her firstborn. Or something. Just hate it, hate it, hate it.”

You shake your head. What an unfitting time to say that. Cradle her anyway. “Then why did you get some with me?” you ask.

“I-I don’t know. Guess I just wanted to be with you.”

Wait, so what about all those times you invited her for a study session at the cafe? She had always ordered a latte. Has she been hiding that silly secret each second, just for a chance to hang out with you? To have your company?

You didn’t know coffee would flatter you this much.

You pause. Does she like you? As much as you like her? You don’t know. You’re momentarily flustered. Step back and scratch the back of your neck, similar to a boy having been caught doing something wrong. Kissing your best friend is something wrong.

You shouldn’t be doing this. A friendship between two heterosexual people of the opposite gender could stray to lengths that are both painful as they are excruciating if someone dared to touch the other. So, if you kissed Eunbi, who could predict the consequences? Chances are you’ve ruined your friendship forever.

Then she grabs your waist and pulls you close. Kisses your chin ‘cause that’s all she can reach and she can barely reach it at all. But it sends shivers down your knees.

“Come on,” she whispers breathily. “Don’t be shy. Touch me.”

Foolish to stop and think. Your immediate yet hesitant reaction is to give her jawline one final kiss and slip your hands under her shirt.

“Oh!”

Alright, you’re a lot more confident now. You pull the cups of her bra down and start to squeeze. It’s no secret that she’s got a blessed bust, and now you get to feel it. Her nipples are hard in your palms and the flesh in your hold is just so soft. You could never get enough.

Eunbi laughs. Sort of; it’s kind of a moan, too. She lifts her chin to the sky as you knead and knead and knead. “H-how long… have you been waiting to do that?”

It’s an achievement making her stutter. More stammering breaths leave her lips when you thumb her nipples. Press, thumb, pinch, repeat. It’s how you find out she’s just so damn sensitive, and of course you’re abusing that fact.

“You don’t want to know,” you reply, brushing your lips over hers.

She gasps. “Again.”

“Huh?”

Eunbi kisses you. “Kiss me. Like this. Again.”

Is anyone aware, by the way, that you are completely incapable of refusing her?

You kiss her, like she asked. She sighs happily, her tongue suddenly coming out to play. More sensations of softness are at hand, and now you’re battling for the upper hand with your tongue responding to her gestures.

Two can play this game. You slip your tongue through her lips and she sucks it, almost like she’s aware of who’d be controlling who. You force her up to the claw machine glass (plastic? It’s pretty sturdy) so hard that your kissing isn’t gentle by any means. It’s leaving her breathless.

“You’re… you’re good,” she hums, when you finally reward her with a break. “I wanted to be the first girl you did that to.”

The revelation definitely isn’t linked to how hard you’re nibbling on her jawline. Her shuddering breaths are everything.

“Actually,” adds Eunbi, “I wanted to be the first everything for you. First kiss, first love, first time. But you just had to date Hyewon, huh?”

“Jealous?”

“Nope. Never. Just, oh, don’t stop–” Eunbi winces, ribbons her fingers through your own more. “Oh…”

Your tongue swirls on her neck. Meanwhile, your hands are busier. You squeeze Eunbi’s fantastic breasts so that her leg pulls you close. Your obvious erection pushes against her center. Her hips start to move, bringing herself closer to your rod and getting off on the feeling. Her little whines increase.

Then you remember something.

“Have to.” You retrieve your fingers from under her shirt. Regretfully. Fix her bra back on her.

She’s near tears. “No…”

“There’s a CCTV, little raindrop. You wanna get arrested?”

You’re out of breath. You pull the ends of her shirt down to hide evidence of the crime, though there’s the camera witness to it, and try to lead her outside. She refuses to budge. Her glare is clear.

“If that means you get to fuck me till I’m begging and drooling,” she says solidly, “then take me to court.”

You take her home instead.

She looks frail waiting at the glass doors as you purchase some contraceptives from the convenience store, almost whining when you take too long. How the fuck do they have lube, too? You buy that and all the contraceptives they have, because if you want to have Eunbi, you gotta do it fast and safe.

She manages to wait on the elevator, hand wrapped tightly around your palm. Then, when you get to the room, she pushes you down the bed as if she were actually taller and stronger. She truly is an actress—wasn’t she just squirming impatiently not less than five minutes ago? Directors would look at her for sure, a face to remember among plain ones, and say, “Oh, this is our trouvaille. This is what’ll make us billions.”

But now, she’s all yours. Your little trouvaille.

There’s pride in that.

“Fuck. Can’t wait to have someone like you.” She kisses you. Again. Another one to your chest. She’s a little greedy with the way she devours you. But you’ll spoil her as much as she wants; curve your body up so her cushiony lips could have more. Your back is buried into the white sheets. “Someone who is you.”

Grasp the small of her neck—her kisses are surprisingly passionate. "Wait,” you say, “you're not a virgin?"

It doesn’t bother you; just surprises you. Eunbi’s had a fair amount of suitors and boyfriends, and plenty looked too frail to even hold her hand.

"Virgin? Hell no," she replies, like it’s the most unbelievable thing she’s ever heard. The center of her jeans grinds against the mountain in yours. She bites her lip. "Mmm. You think with all this hotness a dude would go, 'Oh, I only want to take care of her'?"

"I do want to take care of you," you murmur, caressing her waist.

"Oh?" A grin stretches on her face. Her teeth still trap her lower lip, and it makes your stomach tighten. Your jeans, too. "Tell me more."

“For one,” you sit up and play with the belt loops on her pants, “I’d like to help you out of your clothes.”

“Typical,” she mutters amusedly. “But I’m not complaining.”

Eunbi continues grinding for long seconds that already feel like a taste of heaven, then rises. Her legs are jelly. You can’t imagine how wet she must be, and to think you’d finally see exactly how. She undoes your zipper, and you in turn pull down hers. Your pants are a whirlpool on the floor. It’s only when you roll on the condom and help her out of the shirt that you realize what she’s wearing:

Calvin Klein, from bust to bottom. Her navel sits above the band of the underwear. Her midriff looks even more perfect bare. Flatness travels through its front until it swells largely at her breasts, which look heavy behind the gray bra. Her hair falls messily over her shoulders, a sea of wildness, and her smile is dorkier with those glasses.

“Fuck.” Your Adam’s apple bobs. “Eunbi...”

“Will you?” she challenges.

You stand up and grab her ass to usher her closer, then kiss her. She smirks; she expected that to happen. Of course, the little devil, always getting her way. But you can’t help but give and give and give; you turn your positions around, push her gently so that she lands on the bed, and continue to kiss her.

Silky legs curl around you. Behind the fabric, you could already feel how wet she is. Drive your hips up because the friction is too good. The wet spot of arousal on her underwear prods your clothed erection.

Eunbi screams loudly. Chastise her with a squeeze on her butt cheek. She yelps, and your lips land on her again. “Easy there.”

“I hate you,” she groans, slapping your arm impatiently. She whines when you poke her cheek. “Give it to me.”

“Give it to me what?”

Eunbi huffs. “You want me to call you daddy on the first day? Really? I mean, that’s fine, I can do that. But can’t we dial it back?”

“You watch so much porn that you forget basic politeness.”

“Wow, hypocrite. Fuck you—”

“Baby.”

That shuts her up. Your thumb caressing teasing rhythms on her face plays a big role, too. Her ears are pink at the ends and she genuinely looks shocked. No, not shocked. Can’t be just that anyway. But that tiny pout pulling south at the ends and the tiniest of pants escaping it tell you what you have to know. You and Eunbi can communicate with just a look, and this one she gives writes to you a message of want.

“You alright? It’s okay, Eunbi. Baby.” Proud to have ruined all her feistiness, you tip her chin up. “I want you to say it.”

Wait, patiently. It’ll take time and you’re not one to rush. When she starts to talk again, her voice is barely above a whisper.

“Please.” She nods and nods, like she was doing it just in case you started to doubt. “Please fuck me.”

“Good girl,” you tell her. You’ve always wanted to. You can tell it’s the same for her.

You ease her out of her underwear and find her pussy prettily shaven, glistening wet. Light stickiness lines the insides of her thighs. Her lips down here are just as beautiful up there. You glide your fingers up and down between them, a choreography you’ll never get tired of performing again. Your touch is light yet you manage to put your hand on and in all the right places.

Oh, well, barely in. But that’s the fun of it; teasing Eunbi is a newfound hobby. In little time, it’s become your most favorite. Your touch is so light that when you edge the tips of your fingers inside, it’s already a lot to take. She lets out a humbled little growl, shoulders straightening. Mouth slacking. Thighs shuddering.

“No, no, why does it feel so—” Her voice breaks. Her face squeezes up and she’s crying out in strained, tiny sounds.

Your digits gently curl on the entrance of her pussy, touching her sore clit and making it throb with the stimulation. Eunbi’s lost count of the times she’s done the exact same thing to herself: lying in her bed screaming out silently with only her hand to turn to. And now she’s here, with you doing it for her.

Slip one finger inside, and even with that she’s already so tight. You start to pump her, each driving her nearer and nearer to the headboard. She’s whining, like no, no, oh, please don’t stop. You add another to hear it more.

“You prick,” she squeals out, palm to her mouth. “If you stop, I’m gonna kill you. I swear, I swear, don’t play around with me.”

“You’re in no place to be making threats, Eunbi.”

This is her punishment: a speed her little pussy can’t take. She’s so tight that you’re already struggling. Trust that she is, too. She’s thrashing around on the bed, disheveling the sheets the staff oh-so-carefully fitted back. Hold her down so she gets to feel the force of your pace.

How did she manage to peek in your mind, collect all your fantasies about her, and act them out? She’s there, in her Calvin Klein underwear, shaking at your fingerfucking and flashing you the most needy looks from behind those glasses. That’s gotta come from somewhere. Watch the float of her tummy when you jam your fingers harder; the quiver in her arms when you part her legs more. Now you’re certain.

Because see, it’s how it’s all so frightening: Eunbi’s Eunbi, your best friend and someone you’ve fallen in love with, and it’s the fact that you shouldn’t be crossing the line. You shouldn’t be fingering her with a madness of thousands when she’s your friend. You shouldn’t be touching and leading her on when she’s your friend. You shouldn’t be—

But oh, you are.

You’re doing it with the courage of someone who knows damn well what they’re doing is wrong, and with no regrets.

“In me.” It’s not a suggestion. It’s a command, veiled under a breathy tone. “Now.”

You pull your fingers out of her and lick them. You don’t know if she’s tangy or sweet or bitter, but you do know she’s fucking delicious. “Whatever you say,” is your reply, because you’re always spoiling her.

Eunbi separates her thighs from one another. Your protected cockhead bumps against her clit when you approach. She flinches, but scurries herself near. She can’t stop staring at you, your cock, your stomach. Everywhere. It makes you possess a kind of narcissistic theory that perhaps she’s just as obsessed with you as you are with her.

You’ve never hoped this hard for a conspiracy to become true.

"Please." Eunbi's breath shortens, and she closes her eyes. She’s suddenly quiet, letting go of her harsh neediness. "Please rub your cock on me. On my clit. Without the condom."

Look at her throbbing nub and catch your breath. Barely. You run your fingers below the sensitive pearl. Then, on it. Under it, too, with little weight in order for the heat to circle around. "I don't know if we should, little raindrop."

"You can put it back on after, i-if you want." Her begging is borderline desperate. No wonder she isn’t sassing you. "I’m on the pill. Should have told you, I’m sorry. But I just want to know what it feels like. Please?"

“Are you sure?”

She nods. Not that you need it to know what she wants.

You unroll the condom. Her mouth waters, even more when you do as she says. She’s right to be curious—it feels so fucking good that you’re afraid you have to put it on before you cum all over her. She whimpers quietly, the heat gathering in her clit and her legs suddenly tensing.

“Gah—” Eunbi sobs and catches the side of her fist in her mouth. “Oh god, please.”

“Seriously, you’re so cute when you’re desperate.”

“Shut up,” she gasps. “Just put it in me.”

Sure you will, but you can’t resist flicking your cock between her lips. Your tip teases her entrance and slaps her clit. Eunbi lets out a lengthy groan. It transforms into a girlish cry, and you kiss it all away. What you don’t know is the moment you push yourself inside, no amount of petting would get her to quiet down.

So you do.

“You are so—” Eunbi’s legs stretch out. They require an anchor, and you’re glad to act as one. You place your hands firmly on her thighs and start to push yourself inside the delicious tightness. Every time you try to push past the limits, her pussy only closes more around you. She’s all wet and aroused yet she remains so goddamned tight.

She’s slippery but firm in holding your cock inside that warm, wet hole. She has to stop tensing her stomach so that she won’t deprive you of her. It’s hard to push, but one powerful thrust drives you all the way in, making it worth it after everything. She spreads her thighs more which gives you the chance to feel them, and you’re right for grabbing the opportunity. Grabbing her thighs, to be specific.

Each thrust helps spread her out. You’re pushing her apart and forcing her limits to be taken down. Her pussy sleeves your shaft so well, so tight yet so perfect. You slam harder. Take in the beautiful imagery of Eunbi’s small cunt taking more than it could. Its hold is so enclosed that you’re required to guide her legs up to welcome your dick deeper.

“I’m seriously so angry at you,” she hisses out. She bears every drill with a pleasured face and a fist that chokes the sheets to material death. “How did you not dick me down… all those years ago, huh? What a fucking tease, fuck—”

Make up for it by choosing a rocky pace. She won’t relax, and it’s straining you. You’re so deep inside her yet you can tell there’s more to excavate—her tensed body just won’t let up. It’s like every time you roll your hips, her velvety walls close more around you.

“Well, I didn’t know you were so tight,” you say, kissing her collarbone. Tiny nibbles here and there before you give it a lick. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“Oh, you’re sorry? Then fuck me harder.”

You’re terrible at apologies, but you’re sure she’ll forgive you this time. Your core releases a mighty strength in shoving between her open legs. Even that sexy Calvin Klein bra can’t stop her godly tits from bouncing. Her glasses are lopsided while her vision goes loopy behind them.

Her cheeks inflate in labor as her lower body rises to greet you. She’s so adorable; it pinches your heart and leads your mouth down so you can kiss her shoulder and clavicle. See, you’re a good multitasker after all; you can destroy the heat in her center while worshiping her body. It’s good practice. Question is: would there be more times to exercise it?

“That’s it, yes,” Eunbi breathes out. Her hums of affirmation stutter even without her lips opening. “You know what I’ve always imagined? It’s this, it’s always this. When I’m supposed to be studying, I just think of how good you’d pound me. How you’d make me scream. Do what you want to me, okay? Hnnn, so big.”

Plenty of similarities between you and your best friend: your quickness to speak before taking the time to contemplate it, the clothes you accidentally mix and match, your ages. But what you didn’t know is when you sit down at your laptop plagued by thoughts of her, she’s somewhere in her own place being overwhelmed by ones of you. The heat somehow multiplies. Fills the room like a verse.

Therefore, you must hold her in place, give her a false reassurance that you’re going to take her slow. Do so, but then your thrusts become unmeasured and rapid. One hand on the side of that flawless waist, you lead the other to her bra. Harshly pull it down and let her boobs spill out of it. You start to squeeze them hard. Her chest is so bountiful that even the width of your hand can’t map it fully. So you squeeze, forcing it to fit in your fingers, and start to pinch. Her nipple is sore with arousal.

“Oh—oh—oh, shit.” She’s sobbing. But unlike the other times you’ve seen her cry, this one is out of pure bliss. “Just like that. Such a good dick, such a good boy, thank you.”

Your ears heat up. “You’re a pretty good girl, too, Eunbi.”��

“You’re terrible at this.”

She mewls helplessly when you suddenly ramp up the pace. You’re doing her like you’re determined to make her pregnant. It’s the last thing you want to happen, but the grinds make it look otherwise. Along the expedition of your cock, it rubs her needy cunt and makes her drench your cock with more wetness. Enjoy the tightness, enjoy the squeeze of her hole. She’s so warm and wet that you don’t think you could live having only done this once with her. There’s gotta be more, right?

“What about now?” you ask, unable to resist smirking at how she’s now completely broken apart. Then, mirror her words from some days back that drove and still drive you crazy, as ridiculous as they are: “Cat got your tongue back there?”

She chokes up and is rendered even more lost for breath when you start to lose control of your own moans. They harmonize in an erotic chorus with hers and soon you’re muffling them with another torrid liplock.

“You’re a bully,” she says, the words mashing with your teeth and lips. “A heartbreaking, flirty, mean bully.”

Your noses nuzzle against each other. “You like me that way.”

“I’m not commenting… on, t-that.”

“Good. Because you know what you need to do? Cum for me. You’re shaking, Eunbi. Bet you wanna cry and get there so bad.”

“Y-yes!” Eunbi curses with that adorable lisp. She starts to stammer at the thumb floating and frisking on her clit, and she gives you this watery-eyed needy look that tells you, along with her stiff nubs and desperate gasping, she’s close.

You start to swipe at her clit and fit yourself lower in her. Eunbi gasps. She sits up though her forearms barely could handle the weight of what you’re doing, and stares down at your handiwork. She feels hot all over. You’re not helping calm her down. But you are aiding her orgasm, (which, by the way, is so near she can taste it.)

“What are you doing, you’re making me lose it—gonna—”

No need for her to continue for you to understand when she’s creaming all over you. Your rapid rubs on her clit don’t cease and neither do your thrusts. Eunbi’s yelling so hard that you’re afraid that even the well-built four walls of your hotel room won’t contain her noises. However, at the same time, you want them to hear her. That girl you always have your arm around on? Yep, she’s yours. That girl who always steals your socks and shirts? Just the same.

Eunbi’s mouth pinches up before sighing loudly, followed by a series of other gaspy breaths. You could hear a venerating one the moment the tightness becomes too much for you to handle and thus milks you of cum. You fill her so much that it drips off her lips. Your gentle thrusts guide the mixture of her cum and yours back inside her.

“That good enough for you?” you ask, pulling out.

Gently close her mouth and wipe the saliva that dribbles down it. When you lead it back to her mouth, she sucks on your aiding thumb. You take the liberty of running your finger along the soft pillows of her lips.

Add: “You’re incredibly demanding when you’re being fucked.”

Anyone could have guessed that it would be that way if they saw how she’s sitting there giving you teary puppy eyes.

“Of course. You know why?” She gives you a tired yet satisfied look, a triumphant one, too. “I know you would give me more if I asked.”

Fix her glasses back on the bridge of her nose. “You give yourself too much credit.”

“Okay. Fine.”

Eunbi stands up. She steals your attention from her heaving, heavy breasts when she gets on her knees. She squirms her thighs together, letting your creampie leave visible evidence. She massages your thighs, and it makes you even more turned on.

“Tell me,” she says, another challenge, “that you won’t give me your cum. Tell me I’m such a bad girl that I don’t deserve all of it on my face. Hell, tell me you won’t even dare give me a nice, hot load down my throat as a reward for taking you well.”

You’re speechless. How do you react to this? She’s on her knees, riling you up and about to get to sucking you off. It’s another dream come true. And you hate how she’s right to death. She always is.

“Tell me all of that,” she concludes, “and I’d know you’re a fucking liar.”

Your tongue can’t form a fragment. Not even a stutter is born in your throat. Eunbi stares up at you, her hands neatly folded on her lap. She’s waiting, and you want to tell her it’s fruitless. You can’t tell her anything because it would prove her point. Plus, she’s gorgeous, so what now?

She clicks her tongue. Hums out a contained, satisfied laugh. “Thought so.”

Here’s how it starts: she licks at your tip repeatedly, keeping in mind how sensitive it is after having just cum inside her. Sparks of heat knot there. Then she leads it between her lips, and you’re on your toes again. She just slides those full, pink lips over you so perfectly. From the base to the head she goes with barely a complaining mouth. To you, it’s everything already. But to her—oh no, don’t get it twisted: this is just the beginning of it. A teaser to what will happen.

Her tongue laps side to side while she takes you in her mouth. You let out a stilted breath.

“Damn, you really, really like that, huh?” She pauses momentarily to lick your balls, then travels her tongue to the sides of your rod. With one lick, there’s another ball of heat tightening in you. And another; you’re moaning.

“Y-yeah.”

“I see.” (She doesn’t; she’s closed her eyes while nursing your sore cock. Okay, now she does.) “What’s something you really wanted to do to me?”

You exhale. It’s the only laugh you can manage to create. “Ah. Where do I even begin?”

Eunbi brushes your cockhead over her pouted lips. Your toes curl. “Tell me? Please?” she says.

Talking to Eunbi is easy. You can tell her anything and she’d be there, listening patiently and adding a joke sometimes. But when you’re asked to narrate all the things you’ve wanted to do to her, it’s a difficult task.

How do you say you’ve wanted to bend her over a desk while you finish between her legs?

How do you say you’ve strained for the opportunity to ask her out, with the first date being consummated by steamy, romantic sex by the moon?

How do you say you’ve wished for everything, from romantically cheesy to filthily rough, when it comes to her?

“I—I’ve thought about cumming in your throat,” you admit. That’s the first step. You run your fingers through her hair. Take care not to mess the braids. “Making you swallow all of it.”

Eunbi looks smug. “Sure, I can do that,” she chirps. “I mean, I’m me, right?”

“You’re a brat.”

“So make me shut up. Stuff this fat cock down my throat. Make me gag with your load. You always wanted to, right?”

Eunbi’s a challenging girl. She pushes you to go the extra mile, makes you do things you never thought you could. Tonight is no different.

You don’t care to keep the aesthetics of her hairdo anymore. You bunch her hair up in one tight ponytail then shove yourself inside. No gentleness in your body, you feed her wet and waiting mouth.

What bests the other in terms of tightness: her pussy or her throat? You don’t know. Can’t choose properly either. Observe anyway: this orifice provides the perfect wetness and a tongue that services you with glides and licks. Then you have that tight hole when you push yourself deep. You can feel her breaths being blocked by your girth.

Start to thrust away. In the beginning, she still has it in her to suck. You can feel the strength of it doing away at your length. But now, she can barely breathe to even do it. You’re just pushing her face into your stomach and her nose to your navel. You’re using her, which you’ve sworn you never would do. But she’s asking for it. Can’t you break your oath just once? Or at least, whenever she asks for it?

“Can I say how pretty you look like this?”

The blush on her cheeks adds to the aura of it all. Her eyes are glowing with tears as they blink at you, and she’s started to salivate all over you. She can’t take it all, yet she’s so determined to that you want to stop and praise her. As you fuck her face sloppily, the thought that she’s beautiful still hasn’t left your head. Even when you’re ruining her, you’re still starstruck.

You’re a little flustered yourself. She’s so gorgeous that it sometimes makes you want to go call every visual storm in a rainforest ugly. She’s the prettiest little raindrop, and you stand by that.

“You’ll be good, won’t you? You’ll take all that I’ve got for you?”

She nods so innocently you wouldn’t think that she was having her face used.

She’s promised you to swallow all of your cum, and Kwon Eunbi? She never breaks promises.

Twist the ponytail you’ve bunched together to push her head firm to your stomach. She chokes, her throat constricting. Just what you wanted. You limit the movement of your hips so that you could shove that pretty face into you and make her put that mouth to good use. She’s good at that; even with her gags that somehow sound more heavenly than concerning, she takes and takes and takes your length.

Pounding away, you bask in the squeeze of her throat, her hold on your thighs, her eyes tearing up. Her glasses are lopsided, and this time you don’t fix them. You caress her cheek then tilt her chin up. Her mouth’s an easy place to access in this position. The imprint of your cock bobs in her thin neck.

“Oh!” she gasps for air once you retreat.

She sucks sloppily on you when you rub yourself on the inside of her cheek to lead you to a climax. After you’re certain it’s right around the corner, you start to jerk off in front of her face. As much as you’d love to completely release her, you want to see Eunbi fill her mouth with your semen.

Eunbi’s a good girl, so you found out. She doesn’t need instructions for her to cleverly part her lips and wait for it. Her heavy breaths fan your penis.

“Almost there, little raindrop,” you say, “just be good and wait.”

She sticks her tongue out and you aim for it. Eunbi closes in and fills the top of her tongue with your thick release. It pools in her mouth so satisfyingly that you almost wish you could keep cumming forever—not for the pleasure of it but to see her keep that desperate face on.

“Swallow.”

Eunbi shows off the plentiful evidence of your orgasm puddling in her mouth, then does so. After she gulps, she pants. Laughs a little, too. She has a way of finding humor in the most absurd situations. For example: your professor’s voice cracking in the middle of a rant. Your dad calling her “a very well-mannered young lady.” Having her face fucked.

“Do you know you’re, ah, shaking?” she asks, fixing her exposed bosom back in her bra.

(You are.)

(But, to be fair, she’s made a mess on the carpeted hotel room floor. That’s kinda worse. The saliva can’t be differentiated from her girl cum. But at least yours can.)

“Thanks for letting me know,” you say anyway.

“Anytime.”

Amazing how things could grow awkward after you just abused her throat. You’re like two strangers trying to make conversation, and you’re everything but that, aren’t you?

“How ‘bout this: d’you know that you glow after being fucked?”

“Shouldn’t you do it again?” She climbs onto the bed you’ve collapsed on. She places your hand on her thigh. “Keep me pretty?”

There’s nothing that could make her look unflattering. The messy hair is wild but she’s still a princess. But if that’s what she wants… well, she’s the last person you’d want to say no to.

“You’re insatiable.” Nevertheless, you let her bring your hand to her used core. You love how she stiffens when you start to rub circles around her clit.

“Don’t tell me you aren’t, too.” Eunbi presses her mound close to the heel of your hand. For a moment, she’s frozen. Then, her lips are next to your ear, telling you of a tale older than her lust. “I want you to do everything you want with me, everything.”

You’ve lost count of all the things you want to do to her. From things as sweet as tucking her in after a bad day to the filthiest like defiling that ass since that day she wore cycling shorts alone, your mind just runs with ideas. You can’t choose.

“You’ve kept me waiting,” she whines out. Her sighs grow sporadic. “So give it all to me.”

“Like I said: incredibly demanding.”

“You asshole.” She chokes this out as you start to roughly prod her nub. “You fucking… gatekeeper of dick.”

“Well, it’s my cock. I think I get to decide what happens with it.”

“You’re selfish.” Her voice gets higher. Her winces grow often, and Eunbi’s starting to babble out these little words of biteless barks. “You’re so, so cruel. You don’t know what I’d do, I will—I will—”

Before it happens, you place your hand on the back of her neck. She doesn’t even get to glare at you because it all happens so fast. You don’t know how you did it. Not just this, but everything else: how you managed to befriend her, how you managed to lay her.

How you managed to push her not too gently to the wall, her chest pressing its solidness. How you managed to perfectly time it so that her head is tilted to the side so you could still catch a glimpse of that face. How you managed to pull up her bra and free those tits.

How you managed to say: “Do you know what I would do to you?”

Because there’s a million things you could do to Kwon Eunbi—the girl you’ve got pinned beneath you who’s absolutely tense with want. Your little kisses melt the freeze of her shoulders; you can hear her soft moans again.

Her lashes flutter over the undersides of her eyes. “Please,” she squeaks out, “do tell.”

“I’d rather show.”

Eunbi hums strainedly. You pierce through her again, It’s the second time and her velvety pussy still barely budges at your contradictingly welcome visit. Press your stomach into her back till you’re buried deep inside her. As a result, she’s shoved harder into the wall. Then you retrieve yourself handlessly from her, then put yourself in again.

She pants heavily, matching those of yours. She’s shaking, the only leverage to stay upright is your body on hers. Your rhythm is not too different from earlier and Eunbi still finds herself seeing it as something so new. She still spasms and quakes around you. Anything you give to her, she takes gladly. Each thrust pushes out a feeble cry from her throat and from within.

Her arms stretch to support her stance to the painted wall. You adore them, like you do to every other part of her. But these—these beautiful, strong arms whose minimal bulges hint of well-trained muscles—they do a number on you. You run your hands all along them, not making it easier for her. Everywhere you touch delivers a quiver running through her body.

Although you touch first from the sides, her chest already feels big. You caress her curves before placing your hands right on her breasts. They’re your guilty pleasure, the kind that makes you pray for forgiveness because you don’t even know if you’re worthy of stealing glances at them. Maybe you are, because you’re getting to hold them. It’s a divine sign, if you do say so yourself.

Clutch them. Use them to plunge to places left unnavigated in her cunt. She’s dripping all over you, and it somehow plays the role of lubricant. It lets you thrust easily and keep her wet enough for more.

Any touch you trace on her beautiful body makes her quake. You brush your fingertips lightly over her clit, and the squeeze of her hole strengthens. You massage her fantastic hips and waist and you’re rewarded with a feral cry. Kissing her does no good in helping her calm down because, if anything, she gets more worked up.

“Oh, look at that, Eunbi.” You continue thrusting in her, pushing her limits far from the bounds, and she’s got her hands on her face, tears on her palms. “You’re so desperate. You squeeze so tight around me.”

Standing is something she’ll soon be incapable of doing for her legs are beaten down by your movements. “Not exactly my fault,” she says. “You know who’s to blame? You. You and that smug face and smug everything. You—”

How is it possible that you can make her garble but lose her words as well? Eunbi’s excessive whining comes to a halt as you plummet said cock deeper. Silent screams escape her open mouth and she’s clinging to the surface in front of her like she’d slip if she didn’t. There’s a possibility that that’s true—when you let go of her hip, she almost falls.

“You—” If you didn’t know Eunbi, you’d think her voice had contempt in it.

“What about me? Can you tell me?” You know that’ll annoy her.

It does, for she says: “W-wow, big ego.” She whimpers quietly at the soft kisses you place on her neck. The circumstances don’t allow her insult to hit properly. It just swells your pride.

“I know another thing from me and mine that's big.”

Eunbi growls. “Then put it to good—fucking—use.”

She has a point. Why are you fucking her rough when you could be even more so? Your touch climbs from her waist, tiny, to her boobs that can be described as every adjective in the thesaurus except for that. Afterwards, you carry out a brutal pace which drives her so into the wall that you’re not sure how she hasn’t made a dent in it yet. Her only protection from its hardness is your hands on her bust.

Nothing can protect her from your hardness, however. It’s almost cruel how pink that milky white skin is, culprit of the defilement being your core that slams and slams into it. But you know she likes it this way. So why stop? Of course, there’s no reason to.

“God, please– you’re—” Her expression changes. Pleasure becomes bliss as bliss becomes paradise. “Oh no, I think I’m close.”

No quote from philosophers and learned individuals could inspire you like that simple statement. Yes, she’s close to cumming. And it’s because of you, she just confirmed it. So you tweak her hard nipples and tilt your moves up. You must have hit a certain spot because a simple “oh” turns to a scream. Several of them actually, each increasing the smacks of your hips on her butt and your lips’ ravages on that delicate, vulnerable swan’s neck.

“Hngh, I can’t! I can’t, I can’t, harder, please!” she yells, falling back to the wall and shaking.

Your moves become frequent and rough. Your hands join in with the roughness; they begin to harshly pinch and grab her boobs until she unravels.

Eunbi suppresses her scream into a whiny cry and falls into you, unable to keep her balance anymore. The flood rages in her core and overflows. Your cum slides out of her pussy as she tightens and loosens. She frantically pushes her ass back into you to keep the climax on a high, coupled with sharp shrieks of affirmation.

“Keep fucking me,” she rasps, “keep ruining me.”

Her voice ranges between low and sexy to high and needy. Both sides, however, are draining you. It’s the way the sweat sticks to her gasping face and how her legs are practically limp. She’s completely under your control, and you… like it? Is that how it’s supposed to work?

“Yes, yes—don’t stop.” Her nails scratch the paint. “Don’t, wait, not inside me. Okay? You can’t.”

You manage to successfully quiet your groan of disappointment. You pull out reluctantly. Tell yourself you already ejaculated in her moments ago, so it’s only fair for it to be once. However, your cock’s still rock hard. What do you do about it? You’ve already done more than you should with her. It was all supposed to be just one kiss. How did you get here?

She turns around and places her hands on your shoulders. Her palms are sweaty in spite of the air-conditioner breezing in the room. The exhaustion on her face from sex is there, and so is this little serious look.

“I want you to cum,” she says, “in my ass.”

Thoughts. Too many of those, none pure. Thoughts of Eunbi that didn’t stay as fantasies because look at them bleeding into reality. Silence, too—you’re not saying they speak louder than words, but of course you can tell she’s serious with those watery bunny eyes.

“What?”

And of course you gotta act like a prude. What the hell? You? A prude? That’s a fucking lie. You’ve pleasured yourself countless times to the thought of her and that body, so why are you backtracking? As Eunbi would say, right after you made fun of lazy students while never studying much yourself, “Hypocrite.”

“What?” Eunbi drags your hands down that supple ass and makes you squeeze its full cheeks. “I want you to get your money’s worth from that expensive lube and pound me. And don’t you even think of stopping.”

You glance at the plastic-wrapped bottle on the bedside table, then back at her. It just doesn’t make sense. You—you and your awkwardness and spontaneous bursts of overconfidence—getting to cross the line? Everyone has probably doubted their worth one way or another, in stories written the same as yours, but is she serious? Does she really, really plan on letting you do it?

You look down at your bare feet. She sighs loudly, obviously and slightly irritated at your hesitation. Only an idiot would pass up that opportunity. But maybe you want to be an idiot—because fucking her would mean wanting her. You’ve already done both. You’ve made her cum twice and always wanted to do so, always desired her. To you, it just makes you worse than the rest of the men who vied and strived for her.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Eunbi,” you tell her quietly. Let them rage at your words as if your life were a movie and they were a judgmental audience, but it’s true. You can’t violate more unwritten rules.

She lifts her head, her face parallel to your own. “What if I want you to?”

You blackmailed everyone into reading your story, you’ll say it straight up. This isn’t a love story or tragedy, or whatever. This is a tale about you being too generous. You’re always giving Eunbi what she wants. Every key point’s been triggered by her wishes—from her bailing answers out of you right up to this passionate Christmas Eve. You’re the genie who keeps giving her extra. Oh, you’re a pretty girl, you see, you’d say, blue hand stroking her hair, so of course you can ask for more. It’s all on me, beautiful. All on me.

You keep granting. And granting. And granting.

“Spread those legs.”

Because it’s all written on paper, in the law of nature: she’ll be the one who calls you names and drags you around. But here? Nothing remotely close to that. She’s the girl who sits on the counter of the kitchen table, and opens her legs. Why? Because you told her to. You’ve already fucked all the sass out of that sharp-tongued mouth. There’s little left.

In this wealth-stealing coup of a hotel room, she’s the one who does what you want. She’d slacken her mouth to have you give her a throatpie. She’d ride you like she would a pillow if you asked her. But in a way, behind the scenes, it’s her screenwriting it all. She’s got it predicted from front to base—you’ll fuck her here. And there. You’ll do what she wants and do what you want. Make it meet in the middle.

Because, you think as you slick her asshole and your cock with the lubricant, that’s what friends do.

The edges of Eunbi’s palms are on the counter. You can see them struggle to keep her body upright. You can’t really say you blame the girl when the two of you have done too many things to fit into one night. Anal is another you’re trying to squeeze into a tight schedule.

But that’s what she wants. And, (heads up—skip if you don’t like spoilers): you just so happen to have a habit of being too easily swayed by pretty women.

“Open more.”

“There’s enough already,” she whines, words pitched and tiny.

“I know, Eunbi. Baby.” You’re clinging on that high of seeing the color rose her cheeks. In every way, red (can’t be pink when it’s that dark) looks good on her.

Eunbi’s breath skips a pattern. Her ass retreats at your touch yet goes back every time for you to hold. “You’re too good at this,” she says, speaking as if the words were a foreign language. Which is to say: cute. It’s like when she speaks English; it comes out sounding like fresh, pretty talk.

“Glad you’ve come to terms with that.”

“Wow.” Can’t tell if she said that at your cock pressing to her anal hole or at your quickness to speak. “Okay.”

“I mean, I’m serious. I only called you baby. How does that make me good?”

Eunbi coos when you touch the side of her face. Hold its jawline over the line your palm calls its own. Glimmering sweat and exhaustion and lust, she still has ways to make you go crazy. Your hand comforting her shudders nearly makes her forget you just want her to admit that you’re cut from the rest.

Both of you know what’s true anyway.

“I just…” Eunbi kisses the space between your index and thumb. “I just fall in love too fast.”

“How fast are we talking?”

“I won’t tell you, it’s been crystal clear since the time I met you. But for this?” She taps your hip impatiently. “As fast as you can.”

Her voice deepens, a stretch from her cheerful pitch. Where did that come from? She smirks at the change in your face, but she can’t hide the desperation in hers.

Her hole and your cock are shiny with the lubrication. Turns out the lube was a good buy; getting the tip inside her proves to be easy. However, it can’t help your job in hilting the entirety inside her. Thighs that glisten with wetness and lube wrap around you. Her midriff tenses, and so does her hole. So do her hands on your arms.

There’s already her cum and yours wetting her ass, as well as the lube you bought that was crazy expensive. So why is she still so tight? Her squeals thin and her face makes clear the labor. You’re spreading her apart in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.

She’s straining, too. Eunbi’s using every method in the book to allow your width to enter more: breathing deeply, relaxing her body, spreading her legs. But they don’t seem to work for her when her ass is only focused on closing around the little you’ve put inside her.

“Why do you have to be so big?” she whines. She pushes her cheeks to your stomach, inching you south and into her. “Why does it have to feel so good? Don’t just stand there. Fuck me. Split me open, I need it.”

Her wish is your command. That’s three wishes she’s making there and you’ll grant all of them. In a hard moment of pure will, you pull yourself out and slam yourself harshly into her tight body. Your attempt is successful; your whole girth is snugly hugged by her round butt. The enclosed walls of her anal ring are so overwhelming that you’re close to blowing your load already.

If you’re a genie, Eunbi’s the taker of wishes. She takes and takes and takes, even with your cock prodding past the hurting limits of her little asshole, and she does it oh so well. She’s probably seeing ghosts or the stars they’ve become with the way she’s not even looking at you anymore. No, her body is slanted up to allow you to give what you can. And by what you can, you mean your all.

Eunbi sobs and hugs you close. For comfort? Assurance? Speed? You’ll give her all three. That’s six wishes there, but with her, there’s no limit. You hold her as you find a perfect pace, one that makes her thighs squish on the ledge of the table and has her mouth gaping while you’re making another orifice of hers do the same.

When did pain feel this good? Eunbi doesn’t know. But she loves and accepts it. She’s reciprocating your thrusts with her own ones. It feels too good, so good that the sounds coming out of her are difficult to comprehend. She’s moaning, yet crying, too. Crying yet gasping in delight. Gasping in delight yet panting as if it were too much.

There’s one thing you’re certain of, though: she’s enjoying it. Wetness drools from her cunt and onto your shaft. It’s only a tiny bit of help, but it already aids in fucking her ass open sloppily. Her breaths are warm gushes of wind on your skin, and soon in the air as she throws her head back. Have to place a hand behind her neck to prevent her from bumping onto the all-too-near cupboard.

“So good, so big, can feel you t-throbbing,” she mumbles. Her lips purse before releasing a sharp moan. You’ve just placed your mouth on one of her breasts. “Know you wanted to do this. Saw you, hnn, staring at my ass.”

“Who can blame me?” You lightly slap her backside. “This thing is the best.”

“You got me so...” Eunbi’s gasp becomes a little lost ghost when you start to suck on her brown nipple. “I wore them, those ridiculous shorts, just for you. Wanted you to make me feel good, make me hurt, oh, I want it so bad—”

Her words pierce and break. Their propriety becomes worse yet the willpower they induce becomes stronger. Rapidity becomes a pastime when you’re pumping her. Of course, that’s already a given when the girl’s absolutely incapable of keeping quiet. Anything you do to her she reacts to. She’s still the same girl in the sheets as she is when she’s out and about, and it makes this sinful act—anally ruining her—seem like something so endearing.

Your thumb starts to rub her clit again. You’ve done this plenty of times in this hotel room right after the heat started, yet it still gauges the same reaction from her. She can’t stay still. She wants to stay in one place to receive you better but there’s the pleasurable pain in her ass, your mouth on her bosom, your hand feeling her up. She can’t take it, and you can’t either. She’s a combination of wetness and tightness and loudness and shrillness—you’re both too much for the other.

A lit match to a flamed lighter.

“Oh, god, no.” Eunbi’s teeth dig into your shoulder before retracting. Signs of her sobs linger and roll down her perfect face that wields an expression you admit to have fantasized often on her. “You’re gonna make me cum again. You're gonna make me cum again, I can’t handle it. Please—fffu—”

You stuff your fingers inside her. Match the pace with how you’re fucking her into the kitchen wall. She clenches around you and doesn’t let go. The wet squelching sounds compels you to be harsher with her. Fuck her like it doesn’t mean anything, just like she wants you to.

“Mmm!” Eunbi shrieks at the harsh intrusions she thought would be over.

“Not over yet.” You kiss her. “Still gotta cream this perfect ass.”

The promise of that makes her blush. Red and sweaty, she exercises those toned arms by using them in fucking herself on your cock. The pleasure is addicting, and she’s still keeping you to that oath to cum inside her a second time.

She’s so wet that it’s almost unbelievable. Your fingers curl, spread, jam themselves in her, and each time they pull out they’re soaked to the knuckles. Her clit twitches and you get your touch on there again. A little leak of cum wrinkles your hand from it.

“You really want it, huh?” Hiss at how she bounces that jiggling rear onto you. “Just a little more, baby. You’re gonna have to do much better than that.”

Since when did Eunbi do what you say? Since when did she do it with this much enthusiasm? Despite your shaft wrecking her insides and rearranging her guts, along with the orgasm she’s had, she perseveres. She rolls her body, a snake’s dance, and takes you in further. You admire how much you’ve spread her. Hold her backside to guide her.

You pity the housekeeper who’d have to clean up evidence of your sin. There’s her wetness on the kitchen table, the smell of carnal need in the air, sheets torn by the little power Eunbi’s fingernails have. But there’s no regrets, you think, for this one:

An explosion. The kind that doesn’t kill but brings her to life. Its origin is the base of your cock and birth inside her tight little ass. Hold her close. Slam inside her as if you were mad at her, while she lets out gasped repetitions of “oh, oh, oh.” Now you pull out your digits and resort to furiously rubbing her nub, effectively making her even tighter.

“That’s it, fuck, such a good girl,” you groan. Grip her ass so tightly that it draws a yelp out of her. After it’s all done, you pull out.

“You,” she drawls when you pull out. She spreads her legs and stares at the semen dripping out of her holes. At the mess you’ve made on the floor, the bed, the table, everything. “You…”

She doesn’t continue what she’s saying, but you’re pretty sure you got the gist of it. It was you who fucked her. It was you who made her climax so many times in one night. It was you, her best friend, who did her in.

“Yeah,” you say, laughing.

Somehow, the whole experience is making you guilty. You feel like the richest man in the world, the luckiest, too. So why do you feel you did something wrong?

Eunbi narrows her eyes. She knows you too well. “Don’t you dare apologize.”

You don’t.

“Now kiss me.” Her words fan your chin, a haunting love spell. “Again.”

You do.

Christmas comes, and by then you've flown home. You’re at Sakura’s house to celebrate. Green and red are all over the place: red cupcakes on a baking tray, old books leaning against each other, the rug beneath you and her friends. There’s a giant statue of Santa Claus, overweight and jolly, at the corner next to the Christmas tree. What used to be under the plant were gifts Eunbi specifically said not to touch until 12 a.m midnight. No sleeping in now that you’re well aware that the man himself isn’t real.

Sakura’s undoing the ribbon on her gift, but her eyes are on you and Eunbi. “There’s something really weird going on with you two,” she says.

The girls nod and hum choruses of agreement: yes, he and the bunny leader are acting odd lately. No, they don’t know why. Is it because of the vacation? Seasonal depression (but with Christmas lights!)? They’re gonna find out for sure.

You and Eunbi look at each other. Your faces hold an unreadable expression, until you take an interest in one evergreen branch and her in the collar of her ugly Christmas sweater.

“Nah,” you say.

“Nothing much,” she echoes, drinking her hot chocolate.

Yena groans, tired of your pretentiousness. “You fucked, didn’t you?”

A liquid spray of sugar lands on the rug, courtesy of Eunbi. The girls begin cackling, slapping their hands on their thighs and on each other. You look away to manage your laughter. Unfortunately, it’s as loud as Eunbi’s scheming little members.

“That means yes!” Yujin shouts gleefully. Her dimples are printed on her cheeks. “You owe me ten thou, Yena unnie!”

Christmas spirit truly is in the air. They’re jumping up and down, laughing and cheering, while you two are mortified. You’re the Grinches of the holidays, but even that can’t sour their happiness.

“It worked!”

“I can’t believe it worked!”

“They’re so obvious about it, too!”

“No wonder Eunbi unnie was limping when they came home!”

The whole thing was a setup. It’s all dawning in on you. Why else would eleven girls pool ridiculous amounts of money for a two-person trip? You’ve given them the best Christmas present of their lives unknowingly.

But with how much Eunbi loves them, she’s okay with that.

You are, too.

“Hey.”

You lift yourself up from the comfort of the pillows and sheets. Eunbi’s standing at your bedpost. She still has on the sweater, courtesy of your mother, and her ears are still pink. That’s one of the cutest things about her: when she gets shy or humiliated, it’s pretty obvious.

How do you go about this? It’s been awkward and silent ever since you had sex. It’s so unlike your dynamics, and it’s scaring you. You don’t want to lose her. Is that the same on her end?

At the end of the day, though, she remains your best friend. You’ll always reserve a place for her with you.

“Hi.” You pat your bedclothes, and she sits.

She looks away as she pushes a paper shopping bag in your arms. “Merry Christmas.”

You wonder how you didn’t see it peeking from her tiny back. The bag isn’t too heavy, but it obviously is something large with how much you can feel whatever is inside it. Quickly stapled and taped, it’s a last-minute present for sure. Did she forget you? Of course, your heart squeezes with the idea of it.

“Way to time your—”

“Don’t be stubborn and just open it. Please?”

Do so.

It’s a bag. Not just any bag—it’s a brand new original of the backpack she lost you all those months ago. She’s got it down to the same color (gray), design (two pockets, with black zippers and one for a bottle) and size (medium). The only thing that sets it apart from your first one is the unavailability of shreds and tatters on the bottom side.

Stare at it, dumbfounded. How did she track it down? It’s sure to be expensive, seeing as it isn’t thrifted and is wrapped in the branded plastic of an overseas branch. “Eunbi,” you say.

“It was shipped later than expected.” She shrugs, trying to play it off. Still, you can hear her laughing shyly. “Hope you like it.”

“I told you to save yourself the trouble.”

You lift the bag up and stare at it. The transparent plastic allows you to marvel at its beauty. The faint scent of newness fills your nostrils.

But the real beauty is the one who sits on your bed late on Christmas night, with her hands folded neatly on her lap like a Catholic schoolgirl. A few locks of her hair are braided with red ribbons to go with the season of giving. Her brows are as dark as her glasses, her cheeks as red as her ugly sweater.

“I like it when you trouble me.”

As always, her statements hold more meaning than they should. And, like you could through her eyewear, you can see right through them. Knowing what she tried to say causes you to inch closer to her. The sides of your thighs press against each other.

“Makes me want to trouble you more,” you reply.

She lifts her head. Already the light cockiness she so often brings with her pours back into her face, and you couldn’t be more relieved to see it again. “So do it.”

Things have a way of coming back to you. Your bag, the thrill of meeting her again, Eunbi. Not everything will return, but then it’s probably just a sign that things aren’t gonna be bad forever. There will be days you’ll get to have a vacation with her again, the promise of December’s Christmasses, being with her and her friends you’ve grown to love. There will be days for new beginnings, like this one. This is a fresh start with her. There will also always be days you’ll do whatever she wants, which somehow align with what you want too.

Refer to this:

You kiss her, your little trouvaille.

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draxua · 3 months

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Toga sucking on your tits, her sharp teeth grazing your nipples sending shivers down your spine, holding her by the head to keep going, Toga making cute little whines of satisfaction at the taste of you.

Toga who goes ahead and leaves hot red bite marks all over your breasts, little droplets of blood spilling out of the marks.

Toga with a free access kink, you can be doing absolutely anything and she'd be sneaking up behind you to sink her teeth into your neck whilst humping your thigh.

Toga who loves to ride your thigh whilst sucking on your neck, fangs deep in as scarlet red blood trickles down your neck. Toga who will see the blood dropping down your neck and onto to your chest so you make her lick it up, your blood is precious its a treat you give to her, none of it should go to waste. Toga who happily obliges.

Toga who accidentally shape shifts into you when you fuck her with your strap, she's so filled with admiration and love for you her heart swells everytime you give her so much attention.

Toga who shape shifts into you as she fingers herself infront of the mirror, making all the faces she wishes she could get you to make. Toga who records herself as you doing so many lewed things to revist.

Toga who gets fucked hard with a strap the first time you caught her sneaking around your room for any of your belongings to steal. Taking her knife from her and putting it against her throat, fucking her rough on your bedroom floor for everyone to hear.

Sharply spitting words mixed of praise and degradation, she's was so pretty you couldn't see how much of a cute slot she was. You loved how she went above and beyond for you, she's so desperate look at her taking everything, its such a sight for sore eyes.Your thigh over hers as your pussies rub together, your slick mixing with hers.

Toga with an oral fixation who can't cum without a taste of your blood, she needs your fingers in her mouth for her to bite and suck on. Toga who gags on your fingers, her teeth sharp against your skins as a small pin of pain floods it.

Toga who takes a small bite of your fingers coming as soon as she tastes it <3

𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐁𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 <3

#✮⋆˙willow writes #toga himiko drabble #toga x reader #sub!character #dom!reader #dom fem reader #Sub! Toga #Toga himiko fic #Toga x you #Toga mha fic #my hero academia #mha fic

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fellthemarvelous · 5 months

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Imagine, if you will...

Seriously, this isn't a canon prediction or anything (honestly I might attempt to write a fanfic with this idea in mind). It's just random thoughts that go through my head and this is my attempt to make sense of them and write them out coherently.

We have Saraqael, an angel who seems to be more intelligent than most, with tartan cuffs and collar on their heavenly attire.

We have Muriel, a 37th class scrivener with a love for reading and a curiosity that none of the other angels seem to have, wearing tartan that matches Saraqael's.

So, I would assume that Muriel works under Saraqael, especially since Muriel went to Saraqael with the matchbox before either of them approached Michael and Uriel.

We see Jimbriel wearing Aziraphale's tartan blanket like a toga once he takes refuge in the bookshop.

And, of course, we have Aziraphale, former cherub and guardian of the eastern gate of Eden, always incorporating tartan into all aspects of his life on Earth.

What if the tartan that we see Muriel and Saraqael wearing is a symbol, perhaps a way to identify others who might want to dissent from Heaven's plans? What if it's a growing symbol of resistance?

Maybe Saraqael picked Muriel to observe the things happening on Earth because Muriel is good at appearing unassuming and aloof.

Maybe Muriel being asked to stay on Earth was what Saraqael was hoping for.

Saraqael told Aziraphale they would be sending an angel to log and verify the miracle. He knew Heaven would be keeping tabs after that.

What was Muriel reporting back to Saraqael? We saw what they shared with Michael and Uriel, but is that information that Saraqael told them to share? Did Muriel give Saraqael a more detailed report first?

Saraqael showed Crowley the truth of the trial despite declaring him the "enemy".

Could Saraqael have had anything to do with getting Aziraphale back into Heaven? Is it possible Saraqael thinks Heaven needs Aziraphale then?

Crowley now has information about Heaven that can be shared with Hell. Crowley knows Heaven would rather erase the memories of angels who want to walk away from Heaven instead of casting them down into Hell.

And Saraqael immediately followed Crowley back down to Earth without question.

What if Saraqael is the murder hornet? What if Saraqael is choosing to trust Crowley and maybe help Aziraphale in Heaven because Heaven sucks?

Saraqael has the device that erases memories, and more importantly, allowed Crowley to learn that information when showing him the footage of Gabriel's trial.

And now Saraqael will be in Heaven with Aziraphale while Muriel remains on Earth and most likely in contact with Crowley.

Mix this with the idea of Crowley taking up a position as a Duke of Hell and having that link to Heaven through Muriel, who remains in contact with Saraqael, who is working with Aziraphale, who wants to change Heaven because it's a mess.

#good omens #good omens theories #good omens meta #aziraphale #crowley #saraqael #muriel #may write a fic if i can get my brain to explain it better than the mess i wrote here #i really need to buy more weed #but it's so expensive #i just really like saraqael okay

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bakugoushotwife · 11 months

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Poke

Piercer!Dabi x Fem!Reader AU

req: @allofthisistemporaryy

Summary: you've been searching for the perfect place to get you nipples pierced, but nothing is like the reviews said...

warnings: MINORS DNI, explicit smut, rough sex, choking, sadist!dabi, spanking, spitting, mentions of needles and descriptions of piercing practices.

You take a deep breath in and sigh it all out, standing outside the dingiest building you could possibly picture. It looked like it smelled. Could you really go through with this? You look back down at your phone just to make sure you were in the right place. Yup, address matches. You click over to the reviews tab, something you had already studied on your mission to find the perfect piercer. You peered at the words on the screen to see if anything had changed on your way over here.

“I always ask for Toga! She’s the best!” One review read, rating the piercer a 5 out of 5.

“The owner is a little intimidating, but Toga is always great and painless!”

“Toga’s amazing every time! I won’t let anyone else near my body!”

Another shaky sigh leaves your mouth, feeling somewhat reassured, you turn your phone off and march yourself up to the shoddy door of the establishment. The building was almost entirely brick, except for a wooden porch out front. It was very obviously an old house, probably too run down and dangerous to function as an actual home. It didn’t look very big, the door on the front hanging on the hinges with nothing more than hopes and dreams. There was a neon sign that only half worked hanging in the window, the wire from the ‘Tattoo and Piercing’ sign weaving through the blinds. You take another deep breath, and throw the door open with more force than you intended. A little bell jingles as you step in, gray and stained carpet muffling your footsteps as you drag your way to the service desk. The desk was tall and wooden, overtly so. You leaned up to see if there was anyone behind, as there were no other customers in the shop.

You can hear the faint buzz of the tattoo gun running in one room, but that’s it. The room does have a smell, you discovered. It’s a mix of tobacco and weed, maybe even alcohol. You can’t tell if it’s the drinking kind or the sterilizing kind, but with the other scents factored in it was probably the former. There was a ‘ring for service bell’ sitting on the desk, and you wondered if you should use it.

Just as you convince yourself to press it, you hear the buzzing stop and the sound of clothes shuffling and footsteps approaching the other side of the tall desk. A man peers out at you, smirking.

“I thought I heard someone come in. What can I do for ya sweet cheeks?” He asks, taking you by surprise. You didn’t want to stare too long, but you determined almost immediately that this must be the intimidating owner that some of the reviews mentioned.

He was tall, much taller than the huge desk that served at the barrier between you. He was lanky, what you could see of his arms covered in brands and tattoos, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He leaned against the doorway of the room he just came from, folding the arms you were staring at over his chest. The fabric of his white t-shirt was worn enough to where you could see the outlines of more tattoos and even the metal of nipple rings peeking through. His jacket was blue, like his eyes, but the most striking thing about him was his white hair. You were nervous, you knew it was going to be hard to walk into any piercing shop and ask to get your nipples pierced, but you had done all the research to ensure you landed with a female piercer.

“I dunno sign language, lil lady. Hello?” He asked, a pierced eyebrow raised in your direction. He chuckled after, revealing white–and sharp– perfect teeth.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You say quickly, trying to come up with a good excuse for you to be so dumbstruck. “I was just expecting a woman, all the reviews..” You trail off, unsure of how to say what you were in for today.

The man chuckled again, the sound reverberating through him. It made you smile awkwardly, debating if he was laughing at you or not. “I see! You’re wanting a piercin’ huh? Toga’s off today, but she’s my apprentice. I’m the owner, Dabi.”

You nod once, contemplating your next move. “Oh, well..I suppose I’ll come back another day then…” You hum pleasantly, giving him a kind smile to make up for your lack of conversation and business.

“Ah sweetheart,” Dabi pouted, unfolding his arms to lean forward across the desk, “I never get to do the fun pokes anymore, stuck doin’ tattoos all damn day. I don’t bite, hun…what’re you wantin’ done?” He asked curiously, a glimmer of something you can’t place flashes across his eyes.

Dabi licks his lips as he waits on your reply, looking over your figure smoothly. You were a fine little thing, he decided a few minutes ago, and he didn’t want to let you slip out of his grasp without knowing he’d see you again.

You hug yourself, biting the inside of your lip. His presence was indeed intimidating, you can verify, but there was something else making you nervous. He was gorgeous, the type of sexy everyone models their bad boy fantasies after. You knew you’d probably have a few of those later…

The idea of him near your chest gave you goosebumps, and before you could really argue with yourself, you blurted, “I want my nipples pierced.”

This time Dabi doesn’t try to conceal the hungry look in his eye. That was it, the look you couldn’t quite place. “‘S that so, doll?” He asks, tapping a black painted finger on his cheek with a devious grin. “I’m great with nipples, you can ask around.” He winks, you feel your cheeks heat up and your pussy throb involuntarily. You nearly gulp. He pushes open the traffic door to beckon you back behind the desk, to follow him to his piercing room where he could have his way with you in private.

Your mind blanks, a flush creeping over you. Why save the fantasies for later? Your body moves forward, and for once you were glad it was acting on its own accord. He lets the door swing behind you, leading you just around the corner to his workspace.

Dabi smirks as he watches you take a seat in his chair. He closes the door behind you, popping the lock subtly. He wouldn’t want anyone to intrude on his private session, now would he?

He can tell you’re nervous, even though this is by no means your first piercing. He notices a few on your ears and the obvious nostril. He grins to himself, it’s just because of him. “Relax, lil thing. It’ll just hurt worse if you tense up.” He warns, his predatory gaze seemingly devouring your innocent one.

He pulls a rolling stool between his legs, sliding to the edge of his tattoo chair effortlessly. He sat between your dangling legs, a permanent smirk etched into his features. “So princess, wanna take your shirt off for me?” He coos, resting his hands on either thigh. His fingers were long and slender, and even the touch to your leg set you on fire internally.. You could barely stand to think about how they would feel on your skin, or inside of you. How were you gonna make it through this?

You nod, reaching for the hem of your t-shirt. Sitting up slightly, you pull it off in a swift motion, letting it fall to the floor. Your eyes focus on his, the intensity of his turquoise glare sending a chill down your spine. You feel the prickly air blow across your nipples, perking them up beautifully. His eyes fixated on them, making you shift your legs to relieve some of the pressure. You wanted him badly.

The good news is, he wants you just as bad. “No bra, I like your style…”He purred, not even bothering to hide the way he stares at your chest, thanking whatever deity blessed him with the opportunity to put his hands on them. “Stand up, I need to mark where the needle will go…” He said, scooting out slightly so you could get to your feet. He didn’t give you much room, still sitting on his stool. You practically had your breasts in his face, and you can feel the tips of your ears burn.

“Perfect.” He sighs, and you bite your lip. “You’re in good hands baby. You trust me?” He asked, that lusty glint in his eye returning as he reached out for his piercer pen.

You nod. You don’t know exactly what he’s referring to, but you knew no matter what he asked you to do, you’d do it with little to no protest. Your dignity was fleeting, any rational thoughts being snuffed out by the heat in your core and the building slick in your panties.

“Say it. Out loud.” He requested simply, laying out the pre-packaged jewelry and needles on a tray next to him.

“I trust you, Dabi.” You say, voice barely above a whisper. You catch your lip between your teeth as you admire him again. His side profile was so pretty, every feature pointed and sharp.

“Good girl. I’m going to touch you now, to mark these pretty things up.” He says, turning back to face you.

“Please.” You say, mentally chiding yourself. Jeez, why wouldn’t you say ‘go ahead’ or ‘okay’, now you sound desperate.

But Dabi enjoyed the way the word sounded on your tongue, and he knew he would drive you to the point of saying it over and over again. His fingers are icy when they land on the supple tissue of your left breast. He holds it just because he knows he can, letting your breasts hang as they would naturally so your piercing comes out perfect. He is still a professional, after all. He marks either side of your nipple before moving to the next side and repeating the action.

He watched your areolas constrict even more, making him smile. He’s seen quite a few pairs of titties, but none made his pants feel as tight as they do now. “I’m sure you’ve done your research, pretty girl? Y’know no one can go near these jugs for at least six months, probably closer to a year.” He peers up at you from his stool, and his question makes you blush again, or maybe just the eye contact.

“Y-yeah, not gonna be a problem. No one’s been near them for the past 6 months to a year already.” You chuckle to yourself, wishing you could keep your mouth shut once more. Why did you say that, just so he’d know you’re available?

“Noted.” Dabi simply replied, almost validating your compulsive need to overshare. It seemed as if he were genuinely wondering. “Sit at the edge of the chair for me, sweet thing.” He nodded towards the seat, putting on his gloves as you obeyed.

Suddenly, your nerves were focused on the pain you were about to endure, mind racing and body tingling with adrenaline. He picks up a needle and slides his stool back between your legs, using his other hand to drag his tray closer to him. “Aw, don’t be scared, dollface. I’ll take good care of you. You can squeeze my leg when it hurts, deal?” He offered, his stare much softer at the moment.

“Mhm.” You nod, trying to shove away all your worries. You had been through much worse, and you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of this sexy body shop owner. You place your hand on his thigh, his body bent over to have a good angle on your chest.

“Take a deep breath.” He waits for you to follow his instruction before moving on, “Ready and–” He jabs the needle through your delicate skin, humming pleasantly at your reaction. You squeeze down on his leg with most of your strength, wincing barely.“Good girl,” He praises, dragging out the ‘o’ sound to show how impressed he was. “Here goes number two.” He warned, quickly lining up for the other side.

“I know it’s brutal but you’ll thank me later. Deep breath.” He cues, waiting for your sharp intake of breath before pushing through your other nipple. “There you go, that’s it.” He cooed, patting the hand you left resting on his leg. He slides backward on his stool to get a better look. “Oh yeah babe, those look perfect on you.” He smirks, guiding you to stand.

You cling to his hands shakily, the adrenaline still coursing through your body. He leads you to the mirror on the wall, letting you see your newly decorated chest. You beam, pleased with the results. The pain really wasn’t so bad when you’re daydreaming about the piercer. His hands rest on your hips, his touch so light you almost didn’t feel it until you saw his grip in the mirror. Your eyes flicker back up to his gaze staring at you through the reflection. He’s smirking, like he always is, watching your expression eagerly. His presence suddenly hits you again all at once. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, just inches away from yours. His breath is icy, fanning over your face and tickling your neck.

Before you can think better of it, you press your ass back against him. Your eyes widen once you realize what you’ve done, but his arm slides around your waist to hold you there before you can panic. “Hm, good to know it wasn’t just me.” He cooed into your ear, pressing his bulge against your backside. His other hand slides up your body, careful of your fresh piercings, until his fingers are grasping your jaw, the arm around your waist retreating slightly, his hand resting above your clothed crotch. “Did you want something, sweetheart?” He asks, his eyes dancing like the flickers of blue flames.

You open your mouth to speak, but close it quickly once you realize you don’t know what to say. His fingers dig into your cheeks a little more, demanding a response. “Y-yes, I..I want to feel you..please!” You manage, cheeks growing hotter by the second. He rewards you by unbuttoning your pants, the zipper soon to follow. He lets go of your face in favor of yanking your pants down your legs, prompting you to step out of them and kick them aside. You hear him click his tongue.

“No panties either? Are you sure you weren’t planning on this the whole time darlin’?” He chuckles, grabbing your hips again to turn you to face him. He admires your fully exposed body, drinking in the curves of your frame and the fullness of your ass. He might be devastated that he can't play with your tits, but he can destroy everything else. He didn’t miss the contemptuous glare you threw his way, making him chuckle deeply again. “Oh I’m sorry angel, this is a little unfair, huh?” He asked, pulling his jacket off, paper thin t-shirt soon to follow.

You grin softly, reaching your hands out tentatively. He grasps your wrists and plants them firmly on his chest. “Don’t be afraid, pretty baby. You can’t hurt me.” He teased, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he slid his own sweatpants off, discarded elsewhere. His hands land in the dip of your waist, his touch is gentle for just a moment, until he’s using this grip on you to push you backwards until you’re sitting on the tattoo chair again, legs kept open by his figure standing between them. Dabi kneels to the floor, breathing directly over your throbbing heat. You moan involuntarily, just from the sight of the man looking up at you with the carnivorous look in his eyes.

He hums at this, the sounds he can get from you without even trying to stroke his ego and grow his cock in his boxers.He hooks his arms around your legs, pulling your pussy to his face without another passing second, causing you to gasp out in surprise, He lets his long tongue lap at your center, just tasting how worked up you already were. He drags your own fluids languidly up and down the entirety of you, his lips trapping your clit. When his tongue flicks at it, you gasp again, the cold metal unnoticed previously. You shouldn’t be surprised, most everything else was pierced, which only left his…

The sound of his own satisfied grunts drag you away from picturing his length, not expecting him to enjoy himself so much. You feel one of his arms leave you, causing you to open your eyes and figure out why. You smile, your confidence building once you notice the man palming himself over his boxers, unable to resist touching himself while devouring your sweet pussy. “Taste good, honey?” You coo, a taunting lilt to your voice.

The tone of your voice makes him fluster, determined to satisfy you so completely that there would be nothing for you to say, you wouldn’t be able to form words if you tried. He stands abruptly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before grabbing your neck with gentle pressure. “You talking shit up here, darlin’?” He arches his brow, analyzing your shocked expression. “Now c’mon baby, you didn’t think you could get away with that, now did you?” His slender fingers tighten around your throat slightly. The pressure makes your head buzz, every nerve on your body craving his everything.

“Open your mouth.” He says, thumbing at your bottom lip with his free hand. You obey instantly, your body arching out toward him in a need to replace his missing touch. He smirks and spits, slightly off center, watching as your tongue darts out to claim whatever he missed. “Taste good, honey?” He mocks, his hand dipping to rub quick circles around your bundle, keeping you from responding. The only thing you can do is gasp and moan breathily. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I knew you were a little freak, acting so cute and innocent.” He coos, crashing his lips on yours. He was rough, but you craved that. His lips were soft, but that was about the end of his softness, the way his mouth moved against yours like you were the breath he needed to survive, the way his other hand clutched the back of your neck to keep you from escaping, how his occupied fingers moved fervently around your sweet spot. It was getting hard to handle, the pressure in your gut building to it’s toppling point as his slender fingers slipped into your eager hole, curling and hitting your insides with ease. You screamed, legs twitching as your first orgasm crashed over you, causing you to flush with embarrassment. He didn’t let you recover, grabbing you up and turning you to your stomach. You caught yourself quickly, turning your head to see over your shoulder, watching Dabi shed the last layer of his clothing.

It was just as you thought, his solid and achingly long cock was studded with piercings, making you weak in the knees. He smirked, noticing your stare. “Oh baby, you have no idea… I can’t wait.” He chuckled, lining up to your entrance. He palms the swells of your ass, pulling your cheeks apart so he can watch the way your pussy puckers around him, sucking him in eagerly. He gives it to you in one push, letting you experience his excruciating thickness, stretching your insides to accompany him. The piercings tickle your gummy spot, making your vision blur almost immediately. Dabi was so grateful for the mirror in front of you on the wall, able to drink up all your lovely expressions of pleasure.

“That’s my girl. Look at you baby, takin’ it so good for me.” He growls, driving his body weight into his already powerful thrusts. Your mouth drops open, but no sound comes out, your mind so utterly blank. You feel his body lay over yours, his hand grabbing your jaw like he liked to so often. “I said look at yourself.” He demanded, eyes taking in the way your tits clapped together with the force of him. You open your eyes, but admittedly the only thing you’re looking at is him, the sweat pooling on his brow, the way he gnawed on his lip, his hands gripping you so hard his knuckles are white and you know there will be bruises left to remind you of the way he looks in this moment.

“Y-you’re.. s’pretty.” You whine, falling to your forearms as you begin to crumble again. He hums, propping his leg up on the chair to drive in at a deeper angle.

“That’s all you, sunshine.” He coos, the sounds you make in return borderline animalistic. It gives him goosebumps, to hear how loud you can get in his honor. He knows he’s close, but he doesn’t want this to end. He wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, letting it come back down in a harsh slap to your ass. He smiles as the handprint he leaves behind glows bright red and you barely holler at the sensation.

Your screams go silent again, your body unable to move with him any longer. Your hips ache, his abuse of your insides causing everything to go black. You swear you see new colors as you cum once again, tightening around his shaft.

“Oh fuck babygirl.” He groans, squelching and slapping noises filling the air. “You want my cum?” He asked, leaning his weight back over you.

You can only nod, clutching the chair for dear life. “Please! Oh, god, Dabi please!” You choke out, wishing for nothing more than to feel his relief pool in you.

He smirks, knowing he would love the way you beg for him. It wasn’t another thrust before he was helplessly draining himself inside you, slowing down his sinful pumps until he was still. Both of you are breathing heavily, and his eyes are still locked on your body in the mirror. He massages at your sore hips, wincing slightly at the bruises already forming. “I can get ya some ice, doll.” He offers sheepishly, dick still sheathed inside.

You giggle and shake your head. “No, no, I’m okay..it’ll remind me of you.” You hum, a smirk of your own on your face. Dabi had his way with you, as you wanted, but you knew he would be addicted to the feeling.

He kissed the back of your neck and leaned into your ear. “Now tell me you wish you came back another day.”

#todoroki x reader #mha x reader #my hero acedamia #my hero academia x reader #dabi x reader #bnha dabi #smut #dabi smut #dabi x female reader

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i-wanna-die-like-now · 1 year

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Dp x bnha headcanons part 2! Or just weirdly specific things I see happening, idk just my thoughts on stuff.

Tsuyu gets super sleepy around Danny because of his ice powers and almost always struggles with being directly next to him, unlike Todoroki he doesn't have a warm side she can stick to.

Iida almost breaks down when Danny refused to listen to his rules by clicking on his aids (suppression for his sensitive hearing) Bakugou on the other hand finds it hilarious and takes to turning his own aids off when he no longer wants to listen.

Sato invites Danny to his weekly “sugar time” to teach him how to bake as a favour, Danny is surprisingly good at it and eventually him and Sato work together to include ectoplasm into their baking (without it coming to life) so Danny could top up his energy.

^^Bakugou refuses to let Danny near him when he cooks because of that very reason, he'd seen what his ectoplasm can do to food, he does still cook for him on occasion because he's never seen anyone savour his food the way Danny does! It most definitely goes to his head. Danny savours the food because 1. His parents can't cook to save their life. 2. Bakugous food is so much better than any type of take out and 3. He never knows when his next proper meal will be back home and is taking full advantage.

Danny goes to Hatsume for help with making a Fenton thermos (just in case) and she falls in love with the blueprints because what in the world was that layout, it's a mess that she finds thrilling to decipher it. Actually talking to Danny she realizes that no its not a mess he just has ADHD and can't write it down in a way anyone but him understood. (Danny is a genius and you can't convince me otherwise, he just has untreated ADHD 😭)

When Toga drinks Danny's blood her body has trouble with picking what form she changes into and they merge together, eyes changing and flashing in between green and blue and her hair being a mix of black and white. Her face almost looks exactly like Danny but something is off, his eyes are a little too big, his ears are a mix of pointed and normal and his skin has blotches of tan skin and deathly pale. She is fascinated with his green blood though and really wants to taste it, when she finally does get to it burns her tongue and throat and leaves her craving more. (If she separated the ectoplasm from the blood, which is virtually impossible, she'd be able to use the blood for Fenton and ectoplasm for Phantom. Because its the same DNA her quirk registers it as one person when mixed together and that's what causes them to blend)

Stain on the other hand would hate the taste and then finds out his quirk doesn't actually work on him properly, it makes his body heavy and very hard to move but it doesn't paralyze him completely because of the ectoplasm. He also definitely sees the potential Danny has.

Danny info dumps about space to everyone and everything at any chance he can, someone asks a question that shows they have a mild interest in the subject and he's off like a rocket. Izuku joins in with his own info dumping about heroes and their quirks, it somehow merges together and they start talking about space quirks and space themed heros.

Uraraka brings up sending him to space with her quirk halfway through a disagreement and Danny straight up drops it and asks her is she would. "Don't worry I can survive if I'm in my ghost form, it's for science! Hey- No wait don't walk away!" He ends up moping around for a whole week after and when Aizawa asked why he loses 5 years off his life. "Please don't ask your classmates to try and kill you." "But sir I'm already dea-" "get out!"

He duplicates himself so he can hold both of Eris hands to swing her, Eri loves to try and figure out which one is the original and she's surprisingly good at it.

Todoroki uses his fire side to help with Danny's chronic pain, after a while it becomes a habit to hold hands and all their spare time they're glued to eachother, neither of them are complaining.

#danny phantom #danny phantom fandom #danny fenton #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero acedamia #dp x bnha #bnha headcannons #danny phantom hc

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ermnmika · 1 year

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Dating Dabi headcanons

Because I have a Dabi brainrot and you should too. Enjoy. dabi x villain!gn!reader.

warnings: mentions of smoking, wounds, scars and blood. mentions of dabi's true identity (no details, no spoilers).

a mix of fluff and angst. no NSFW. i tried to make him as canon as possible, but feel free to correct me. also this is fucking huge.

inspired by @chainelunaire's headcanons of dabi, especially the sewing and dealing with the smell parts.

• this man is very unapproachable. he pushes people away, doesn't let anyone near him, doesn't even speak to people unless it's necessary. he has this cold and smug demeanor that pisses a lot of people off, but he doesn't really give a shit. all he has in his heart and head at this moment is revenge.

• let's be honest, when you join the league and you two meet, he doesn't think of it much. in his eyes you're just an ordinary bystander that may help him as an asset to achieve his goals. there's nothing of that love from the first sight shit, not from him, not from you.

• the thing that starts attracting you to him the most is curiosity. after getting acquainted with all the other members of the league, you notice something - dabi is different. he feels different. he’s so closed off that no one really knows much about him, and you never once believed that dabi even is his real name. he discusses the plans, does the job, and then he's gone. even if he is in the room with everyone, he doesn't participate in things, standing in the shadows. he's more like a ghost than a real person.

• it takes some time to notice the subtle signs of communication with other members not regarding villain work. when toga tries to have some fun with him, he only rolls his eyes, telling her to shut up and leave him alone. but, there was this one time that you remember to this day: when you entered the room you were met with toga, sitting on the couch and looking at her reflection from a piece of broken mirror in her hands, while dabi is standing behind her and doing her hair. she somehow managed to get him to give her a new hairstyle and not refuse. you guessed it was because she was a comfort kid in the league, the weak point of all the members, even the most distant ones. you observe him when he's listening to twice rant about something patiently, or him discussing what new design compress could use for his next mask. he’s mostly tense, sometimes smug and easily irritated, but you see the quick glances at members when something snaps and they start arguing, or the way his brows furrow when some of them come back injured from a mission. you know nothing about this man. his likes, dislikes, dreams and aspirations, not even his real name or age. but something about him makes you think there's something more inside his heart than just hate and resentment.

• so you decide to stick by his side. find something about him, anything. and you do. you find out that this man is a walking talking contradiction. his small smug smile, but his empty lifeless eyes - a contradiction. his careless attitude, but his desperate attempts to get rid of the smell of burnt flesh - another contradiction. him keeping his distance, telling everyone to fuck off and leave him alone, but not flinching a bit when the members touch him. another one. you can't keep your smile when you think about it. he isn't the type of person he tries to have the impression of.

• he notices it too - he's very observant since he doesn't talk a lot. notices you. notices your worried glances, your thoughtful gaze, your… staring. since you became a new member he didn't trust you much, because he obviously doesn't trust people that easily. you had to work to get his trust… and you did, not even trying to. you did your work efficiently, you treated other members well, hell, you even played those stupid videogames with shigaraki that he couldn't stand. and you looked at him, not averting your eyes. he had a feeling that sometimes you looked inside him, so deep inside, that it was hard to imagine.

• it slipped past him - the time when he begins to seek your eyes whenever you are together at the bar. when he begins to feel relieved when you come back uninjured, when he doesn't want to leave and keep his distance when you stand close to him. his head, once full of pure and aching rage, his only goal in life, starts to get filled with thoughts of you… and he's terrified. it fucks with his brain and he's so confused.

• he’s fucking dense when it comes to human relationships, but the signs are very clear. he knows that you care, he just doesn't understand why. why would you? he did everything to push people away, and, well… he's hideous. on the outside and on the inside. he’s a terrible human being who got wronged by life, and he didn't want to make yours even worse than it was. the confusion is too constant and irritating. he doesn't understand his own feelings, and he doesn't understand why you would want to be with someone like… him. so he decided to not do anything, not make any difference, and let you realize that he's not the type of person you want to get together with. and when you leave him alone, the feelings will disappear, too.

• but of course, life wronged him once again by not agreeing with his plans. every day it became more suffocating for him to exist in the same space as you. of course, you weren't a pure angel, you had your own cut of crimes, but you were too nice to him. he couldn't stand it. side note: you were actually nice to everyone, it's just that his heart dropped every time you did it to him. he felt stupid, so stupid, he wanted to bang his body against the wall to get rid of this… sappy shit.

• you saw it. you saw the difference, because you kept observing carefully. is this how he reacts when he realizes people can care about him? it was ridiculous, a tiny bit fun, but for the most part very upsetting. at some point you found yourself wanting to get closer, to understand him more, to be… near him. to not leave his side. to protect him. at that moment you realized you fell. you fell pretty hard for this dumb little arsonist.

• months pass, and he makes a stupid mistake of letting you get dangerously close to him and his life. it became a routine - smoking and talking with you on the balcony, even though you don't smoke, taking strolls with you around the bar at night, stealing shit and leaving it “accidentally” for you to take, letting only you treat his wounds after operations (and secretly holding his breath while watching you treat him), subconsciously protecting you on missions, and most of all, feeling almost completely safe in your presence. he hadn't felt safe with someone his whole life, he could confidently say it was the first time. months passed, but it was still terrifying.

• the league members knew too, of course. your mutual attraction was so obvious that no one even questioned it anymore. suddenly dabi starts coming to movie nights which he used to skip, just to sit next to you on the couch and shit on the movie afterwards. he doesn’t even pay attention to it. just thinks about you falling asleep on his shoulder. but it doesn’t happen because you’re worried you’d scare him off with sudden physical contact. since when did his comfort become your priority?

“So,” Mr. Compress calls him, while cleaning an empty glass after one of those nights. “When are you planning to confess?”

“What?” Thought Dabi out loud, dumbfounded. “The fuck do you mean, Compress?”

“I guess it’s still not the right time…”

• the right time arrived when you were almost fatally wounded in a battle against multiple pro-heroes. death was undoubtedly scary, but what was more terrifying was the absolute shock and panic written all over dabi’s face. you had never seen him like this before, and neither had anyone else, because he had forgotten what it feels like to care so much about another human being that he felt like dying inside. he pressed your weak and injured form to himself, not caring about the blood, and covered you with his whole body, carrying you in his arms. he was scared shitless, and you gave all your effort to not lose the grasp on life and survive. you didn't really have anything worth to live for, and after all th things you've done you probably deserved to die, but you loved the league, and you loved him. so you were not to give up.

• there were too many colors and sounds surrounding you, but you had no idea what was going on. you felt so, so exhausted. the world before you started to lose its brightness, and you just wanted to close your eyes for a moment…

He looked at you and his breath hitched. He had to get you to a safe place, now. “Hey, hey, fuck…” He pleaded as he touched your face, trying to wake you back up, voice filled with horror and immense worry. “No… Don’t you dare fucking die on me. You hear me?! If you die I’ll fucking kill you myself.”

• you woke up the next day, all patched up in your apartment and with Dabi by your side. he never left, you thought. you found out he can't cry. he found out he's in love.

“I never asked to be here at all,” he whispered, holding you close, having you in his grip like you're the last drag of air he had left. You buried your head in his neck, his heartbeat almost like a loud drum in your ears. You were so cold, and he was so warm. “So why do I have to face the fear of losing you?”*

• after that it just kind of happened on itself. his fear of losing you overcame his fear of being vulnerable. everyone knew you were together, and they were all glad that you came back to them alive. it felt very… different. things changed. you tried to be as open to him as you could, though it was difficult even for you. you only saw him being vulnerable once, on that day. after that, he still kept his distance, because he needed time to adjust to everything. it was new for you too, so you understood and waited patiently.

• he became very self-conscious since you two got in a relationship. before that he didn't really care what people thought of him, but now he had a person he somehow had to not lose. and he couldn't help not feeling hideous. you were looking, and you saw the scars, and you felt the smell, and you looked inside his burnt heart.

• he couldn't help feeling nervous when he met your curious and… loving gaze. he closed his eyes when you brought his hands to your face and placed gentle kisses every morning you were together because he couldn't handle it. he wasn't used to getting affection, at all. he felt like ripping his body apart, but it also somehow felt good, almost addicting. why couldn't he just crawl into your head to understand your thoughts?

• once he gets used to all the physical affection, it's over for you. he’s not letting you go. once he realizes you actually like feeling him on your skin too, you're stuck with him. this man is a touchstarved lonely loser that hasn't even realized it till now, so he's glued to your body and there's no way out. he basically lives in your apartment now because you didn't want him to stay on the streets, and that means constant hugs, cuddles, kisses and more. you want some time to relax on the couch and read, or watch something on your phone? his head is on your lap, nose sticking into your tummy. if it takes more time than he anticipated, his patience runs out and he falls onto you with his whole body, knocking whatever you held out, and caging you in his grip. if you're making something in the kitchen, he wraps his hands around your waist and kisses the nape of your neck. he also loves having you on his lap, tucked in under a blanket, and he kisses your forehead. makeout sessions on the floor, holding your hand when you're on a rooftop, looking at the stars, groaning and not letting you go in the mornings. you both feel heat rising to your faces in moments like this, because sure, you touched other people, but it was never this… open, vulnerable, genuine and gentle.

• every day he surprises you with how sincere he actually is. dabi the first time you met and dabi in your arms now are like two different people. you find his playful and childlike personality rise up to the surface, replacing the cold and smug one. the moments like these are rare, but very… memorable. you hear him banging on your bathroom door when you're taking a shit because he misses you, and when you yell back, he responds with “y’know babe, i don't mind the smell. you put up with mine, so i can do the same”. or when he keeps losing in a videogame and throws the phone at the corner of the room, and punches a pillow a hundred times. “i can't! how do you fucking do these things? is there a cheat or something?” and you laugh. you laugh, and you laugh, and he thinks it's the warmest feeling he ever felt. so he keeps making you laugh. you feel so loved, because it's only you who sees him like this. it's only you who he trusts this much.

• he tells you he likes sewing. no one really did it for him obviously, and he liked holding onto his clothes, so he had to do it himself, and he actually found it soothing. so whenever you needed something patched up, he picks it up immediately. if you get a hole in your sock, he's on his knees and doing the job. he also loves dancing. he was secretly doing it his whole life, it felt freeing, in a way. and he's become good at it. on some nights he grabs your hand and pulls you into a slow dance, in a dark kitchen with the only lighting source being a lightbulb in the fridge. he doesn't think of this as romance, he never knows what romance actually is, he just does what he thinks you might like. and you like it a lot.

• there are tough times in many relationships, and yours wasn't an exception. we all know dabi isn't the most mentally healthy and stable one. there were times when he regressed back to distancing himself, when the guilt and doubts would eat him alive, and he was gone for days, if not weeks, only coming to your apartment at night through your window, and lying beside you on the bed, bringing you close. you asked him what's wrong, you tried to be there for him, but sometimes it was just unbearable. he can't. he can't tell you. he trusts you, he truly does, but not fully. he doesn't trust anyone fully. so you argue. again, and again, and again. he comes home with bruises and injuries, that you have to tend to, and you find out that his “metabolism issues” that he mentioned in the league was a lie to cover his overheating. you ask him to be careful over and over, but he can't. he has to prepare and achieve his goals. and it's dangerous. he doesn't want to involve you in that shit.

• give him time. it's all that he needs. it hurts both of you, and he hates to see you upset. he thinks that you would leave him because of it, and it scares him to his core. for the first time in his life he allowed himself to let someone get so close, and if you left, he couldn't even imagine what kind of person he would become. if you left, you’d rip out a part of him and leave him completely empty. but he always expected it. always expected you to leave him. because who would want to stay with someone like him? someone so stubborn and selfish, secretive, irritable, cold and… disgusting. so he would understand if you left, but it would hurt worse than the depths of hell he resided in.

• but you don't. you stay. it keeps hurting you, but you still stay. it irritates him, he's confused again, but he holds you close at night, he kisses your fingers, and you stroke his hair, while he's listening to your heartbeat. and then it all spills like blood from his burnt skin. he tells you everything, slowly and carefully, and you feel like you passed some kind of test. it’s ironic for some reason. he tells you about who he actually is, his childhood, everything that got up to this point, his crimes and his plans and goals. you listen attentively, and he looks so… small. open. weak and vulnerable. he looks up at you and waits for a strike. he expects you to get disgusted, to curse him and regret ever falling in love with him, to blame him for all his sins, and finally leave. it's like he went back to being a child that is about to get irreparably broken. but you only sigh, kiss the crown of his head and tell him he should’ve told you earlier. you say that you will go through all of this together, that you won't leave him, not now, not ever.

• he can't believe this. what is wrong with you? it wasn't supposed to be like this. after everything he did you still chose to stay with him. it was ridiculous. you ruined his whole perception of people. that night he kissed you until you were both suffocating. it hurt like a bitch, it ripped your insides. but you decided not to cry. you decided to learn.*

• and so, you kept smoking on the balcony together. you kept taking strolls around the bar at night. you kept coming to movie nights with the league and snuggle under the shared blanket. you kept protecting each other, treating each other's wounds, healing together. you trusted him with your life. he trusted you with his soul and beyond. you were now the most precious thing in this world for him. he even decided to try and not die for your sake. did he forget his initial goals? obviously not. has he obtained a new dream? yes. will he burn this world to ashes for you? yes. will he do anything for you? probably. if you ask well enough.

* a lyric from "the fear of losing this" by florist

* a lyric from "devour" by mr. kitty

in conclusion: he's a touch starved little babygirl that needs attention. not proofread, so i apologize for any mistakes in advance. also, eng is not my first language, so there's that.

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sweet-honey-tears · 1 year

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🩹Please Be Okay🩼

There’s a mix of both head cannons and a bit of stories. I hope you enjoy it and it’s not too confusing!

Thank you so much for this lovely person for giving me this idea! I had a lot of fun with it! If y’all have any others, please leave them and I hope you enjoy!🤍🤍 this is probably one of my favorite things I’ve written!

PLEASE READ

Warning: Description of wounds, blood, burns, broken ribs, mention of death, disturbing topics, characters are AGED UP, Angst with a happy ending.

○ Dabi ○

Dabi should have figured nothing would be simple, especially with the League. ‘Just a simple-‘ yeah no that’s not how it EVER goes.

Your quirk was similar to Togas in a way, mostly with vocal changes. You were able to lure people in with your song. They called it Siren. It left your throat raw and cracky but it was worth it. To say the least, your quirk relied on you being able to throat.

“ So you have two sets of vocal cords! Can I try!?” You were patient with Toga, and with everyone. Toya never said anything about it, but just ever so lightly grinned.

“Jeez leave ‘em alone will ya?”

You were nice to be around, not annoying or too loud. You also threw it right back at Toya anytime he tried to comment on something you did. But you also called others out of their shit.

“I could always just make you walk to me ya know.” You sighed. Arms slug over his shoulders as the two of you dance to some shitty song you were playing on your phone. Each of you shared an airpod.

“You’d lose your vocal cords if you do.” He tightened his hold on you.

• Injury •

“Dabi” your voice was strained, bubbly as you choked on spit, air, and blood. Burns encased your neck with no particular pattern. Meaning someone was aiming for your throat or head area with a fire-like quirk. Your mouth was sputtering blood. “D-Dabi”. Your body had collided hard with a wall, likely causing a broken rib or hopefully, just some intense bruising. Burns and sizzling skin covered your neck, jaw, and upper chest. Drops of blood slide down to mingle with your charred clothes.

Toya sees red, grating his teeth as he watches a shifted Toga sprint to your side. Her face turned worried, as she touched your shoulders.

Toya knows in the back of his mind it was likely to happen, that the so-called heroes would go for your ‘weak point’ - he would too. But that doesn’t stop him from seeing red. Someone hurt you.

Toya has a small family, and it is the League and you. And you just got injured.

If he notices it was Endeavor that caused this. He’s lost way too far in rage to be consolable.

Blue, complete blue and he doesn’t give a shit who’s caught in the crossfire.

“Why do you destroy everything good? Do you get off on it? By destroying our family.” He’s yelling outputs but no one can hear him due to the sound sod cracking fire.

• Weeks Later •

When you turn your head to face Dabi, your fingers reach out toward his own. His jacket lays crumbled by your face. Something you kept snuggling into m, breathing in the Smokey sent.

“I don’t have to get staples, do I?” You asked, peering out of the black fabric

It causes Dabi to grin. “Not yet doll didn't earn them”

“Thank f-“ you started coughing, your voice straining hard. Davis holding your hand in both of his.

“Take it easy doll.”

• Recovery •

Dabi lets you practice your quirk on him. You have to retrain it a bit after the damage caused by the fire. Though you sometimes wish he wouldn’t let you practice on him, it lets him see you struggle and fail. It angers you. But he’s always there to calm you down.

“Breath doll.”

Dabi allows you to call him, aiming in your wobbly voice to lure him over to you. Allowing you to kiss his lips before you completely let control go. He’ll hold you from behind, sometimes lifting you and saying “C’mon on doll, get out of this.” You have to sing to take it over, causing his body to relax and let you go. Dabi will barely agitate his quirk, giving you the chance to try and Solti him into a dull state of mind to have him stop. tell

“Getting a better doll.”

○ Izuku ○

• Injury •

You were both so close to finishing this damn chase. It had gone on long enough. Your legs sprung you forward, past Izuku as you used more of your strength in your jump. Your target only an arms length away.

“Come on ZuZu!” You yelled out, adding your final stretch.

Izuku lost sight of you for only a minute. His chest burned as he pushed himself farther. He didn’t always like the fact you could go faster than him (your quirk), it made him nervous sometimes. What he if wasn't there in case you needed-

Your screams pierced the air. They were terrifying, bloodcurdling, and horrible. Izuku could feel his breakfast cuddle in his stomach. He felt how is heart momentarily stopped and his lung squeeze. How every breath felt hundred time more Labor-sum and sink into his chest. With his final stretch into the ally you disappeared into, he find you and the target on the ground. The target was more than likely knocked out, seeming motionless. But Izuku could care less. He watched in horror as your body contorted, back arching as your feet pressed into the ground. Your bare fingers attached into the dirty ground. A heavy line of tears rolled down the side of your face, your eyes rolled back. Izuku fell to your side, grabbing your body tightly.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

Your body shook in his hands, you yell for stops and no’s continuing.

• Reaction •

People questioned where the top hero disappeared to, a month had gone by with no sign of Deku or his lover. People questioned your and Izuku's friends, asking either out of concern or anger what happened.

People noticed how Bakugou and others seemed to appear in place of Deku and you on patrol routes. When Bakugou's numbers started rising, the world noticed how he wasn’t flaunting it. He didn’t say anything about how he deserved it, he almost seemed angry at the fact he was rising slightly. No word of Deku.

“Dynamight! Dynamight! What happened to Pro Hero Deku?””

“Why don’t you extras mind your damn business for once.”

“Uravity! Can you tell us what happened to Pro Hero Deku and (hero name)”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure.”

• Healing •

You had seen your work nightmares. Things that have happened or never could, but things that scared you to your core. You never told Izuku what you saw, but you woke up one night screaming ‘Eri’.

Izuku took a month off hero work, only able to because of his friend. When news broke to them about what happened to you, everyone came to your side.

After a month you seemed alright, able to function as you use to. But you and Izuku always did patrols together now, there were no ‘lone’ shifts anymore. Which Izuku didn't mind, he got to spend more time with you and just be with you. Ensure you’re safe.

Nighttime was still a struggle, with instances of Izuku staying awake all night to rub his back. On these nights you slept through the whole night. When he holds you while you sleep as well it seems to help.

“I’m so sorry Izuku.”

“Hey- no everything’s okay.”

Izuku got you a weighted blanket and finding out the pressure seemed to help you too.

When you start going to therapy, Izumi is there for you every step of the way.

○ Katsuki Bakugo ○

People thought Bakugous nickname for you was interesting, Bee. People mostly thought of those cute little honey bees. The fluffy ones people take pictures of when they’re a mid-flower. But that’s not where the name came from,

“Ha!? They're not that quiet. Loudest thing around” ironic coming from him.

Bee is a firework, a loud one that twirls in random directions and lets out a high pitch noise. It grabs people's attention, just like you did his. Plus your quirk. One that allowed kick-up sparks when you ran, allowing you to twist your body in the air in a way most would find disturbing. But not Bakugou, man called you money when he first saw you. And on the news.

“Moving like a damn Monkey.”

You and Bakugou had an interesting relationship. Some would say your love language was aggression. But those people didn’t see you both out of the public eye. That was a different story.

• Injury •

It was just another villain attack, something you had both become desensitized to after your time in U.A. You both had already had your near-death experience before you even graduated. It made every day more sacred that you both were still alive.

Your body lay in a crater, an after-effect of a quirk that blasted you into the sky and casted you back down. Heavy needles had shot through your body, exiting and then being retracted. Ejecting you with something while leaving open gaps in your thighs. You were motionless, wheezing breaths as you felt your limbs become something similar to static. Poison. The villain had injected you with Poison. You likely had broken bones. Ribs. Maybe a skull? Had your quirk not allowing you to twist mid-air You’d be dead. You had to maneuver your spine and legs in a certain way to protect yourself from the fast-coming blow. Accumulating just enough friction to slow yourself down slightly. Your fingertips twitched as you gasped. “K-ka-kat-see” you could feel wetness trail down the sides of your face and drop off the shattered ground. Blood or tears, possibly both. Your shattered body wheezing at even the action.

“Sue-key” your upper teeth cut into your bottom lip as the weight behind your eyes grew. Black spots flitter in and out of your vision. The sky was so blue. So pretty. ‘Kat, be okay.’ You willed yourself to look down though at your body, barely catching the notice of twisted limbs before you were pulled back down by gravity.

When the villain you had been chasing found his way to Bakugou, he knew something went wrong.

“Where are they!?”

“In a ditch slowly dying. You’ll see them soon too!”

Fire, You could see the smoke in the distantanve. Feel the Earth shaking of explosions. If the ringing in your ears wasn't so bad, you could probably hear them.

“You’re going to fucking die!”

The rumble shook your body.

He’s broken. Loosing almost all self-control and restraint as his body propels him into the air. Howitzer Impact. A war-like battle cry rips through his throat. Every emotion he felt, anger and fear, came out in that one moment. Maybe if he were in the city, or with civilians, things would have been different.

Your body physically shook, the pain radiating through every cell. You let out a pained scream, shock fully wearing off.

Katsuki wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he found your mangled body. Maybe 5-8 minutes. He slid into the creator, running on wobbly limbs to your limp body. He lashed his arms out, ridding himself of his gauntlets as you slid to your side.

“Wake up! WAKE THE FUCK UP.”

• Infirmary •

“Suki, please just look at me.” Your shaking hand reached for his face, palm cuppings his cheek. Surgery had gone well. Healing quirks also came in use.

“You dumbass.” He grabbed your hand, bringing it to his lip. “You could’ve- I would have” you watched tears trail down his face. Your heart shattering.

“But I’m here Kitkat” you quietly whispered. Pulling at the childish nickname as a resort to try and comfort him.

“Damn straight you are Baby,” Kat spoke with his eyes closed.

• Recovery •

Bakugoi allows himself to hold onto you a bit tighter when he’s helping you with walking. Your legs had been pretty much shattered and if it wasn't for your quirk, you would have lost them both… likely your life.

Bakugou is taking the time off every chance he can get to help you with your physical therapy. Cast- Wheelchair to walker to cane.

He picks you up on days they hurt too much.

Putting you on his back one day while you two were shopping. Your light as air to him, so he’s effortlessly picking up.

Katsuki takes over your patrols for the coming months. Refusing to let you go back even after the wounds had healed

“Kit, I’m okay. Doctors said so”

“So what?”

“So I’m okay to go back to patrol.”

“No, I’ll tell you when you are ready, and you're not”

Doesn’t mean to come off rude and controlling, but it’s kinda how it happens. You know better tho, with the slight gloss in his red eyes.

“Kat-“ your voice is soft, “I can decide when I’m ready to go and I’m ready to go.”

Bakugou would just stare at you, the annoyed look on his face present as he walks up to you grabs your shirt collar, and tugs you towards him. His arms wrap around you as you stand in silence.

“‘M don’t wanna lose you, Bee.”

He talks into your hair since he can’t talk to you face-to-face when he’s being vulnerable

“Please stay home, just for a day or two more.”

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villainsandvictimsalliance · 2 months

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These are some of my favorite panels ever.

Aside from Tomura's rook being full of trash and totally ignoring AFO's words, there is something about the body language of the LOV here that calls to me...

Kurogiri looks like he wants to reach for Tomura, but Tomura is shutting them out. He is hugging the hands he uses around him, he has his hood on, hair covering his face, half turned away from them. He looks so tiny, so young in there. He is so like the Tenko that sat alone under a bridge 'cause no one would save him.

The League is bundled in his room after their loss.

Magne is sitting on his desk, facing him on. Next to her, Spinner is sitting on the ground with his back to Tomura. You can notice that no one dares to use Tomura's chair, even when it's right there.

Twice is sitting on a table, body half turned to Tomura. Mr. Compress looks like he is suggesting to wait outside. He must know that Tomura needs space to recover, that he doesn't want to show his vulnerable side. Toga looks at Compress like she's the one who's actually listening to him. If I had to guess, Compress is talking to Kurogiri here and not Tomura, since Tomura is unresponsive.

Dabi is behind Spinner, next to the PC. He stands there unlike Magne and Twice who openly face Tomura and wait to see what happens, unlike Spinner who seems to be processing their defeat and maybe even giving Tomura more privacy— or maybe he doesn't care that much at this point about Tomura and he's more worried about what they're going to do now. Kurogiri and Compress are trying to do something about their situation (talk to Tomura, take the decision to wait outside), but Dabi is way more like Toga here.

Dabi and Toga look a bit lost. Toga has that face she makes when she doesn't know what to make of what's happening in front of her. Meanwhile Dabi has a hand behind his neck, you know that gesture he does when he's thinking/considering how he ended up mixed in a total mess...

There's an intimate quality to it. They all can read what AFO being captured did to Tomura, so why are they hiding in Tomura's room like that? Did AFO send them there with his quirk? They don't look recently landed, which means they chose to sit around and see if Tomura needed them or if he had orders, sure.

They are confused after their first time meeting AFO. They are drained after fighting. They must be thinking really hard about all the information they got in one night, right?

Were they waiting for an explanation? Were they looking at their boss for guidance? The first thing Giran said to Toga and Dabi is that Tomura was young and inexperienced, even childish. It could be a surprise to see him so down, but not a big one when Tomura stormed off after meeting Toga and Dabi.

I can only believe that a part of them decided to stay to see if Tomura needed some comfort. To not leave him alone when he heard the way he screamed that he was not ready yet. When he is there in a corner of his room, when they can see the evidence of the neglect and the obsession, newspapers taped to the walls, investigations all over, books, junk.

Most of them had a stable childhood in a home. Maybe not the best of childhoods, but they can compare. After all they heard and saw...

Idk. It makes me think of how they'd continue to share a room for the rest of their existence, all the time awkwardly sitting next to each other. No one told them they should do that. They just did.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #league of villains #lov

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phantombstone · 7 months

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HEADACHE | TOMURA SHIGARAKI X READER

He's not feeling good, and even though he doesn't like to be so vulnerable in front of others, he reclutantly lets you take care of him.

Genre: Fluff, hurt to comfort.

TW: None.

WC: 1367.

You were walking down the halls of the building you were staying in, wandering around without a real destination in absence of tasks to complete or hobbies to spend some time on.

The corridors were infinite, and even though you normally preferred other activities, exploring that labirint-like hotel was almost entertaining at that point.

The enormous residence was empty, except for you and the rest of the members of the League of Villains. Kurogiri was nowhere to be found (like half of the times you searched for him - the rest of the time he was behind the bar counter), Dabi was out on a minor mission and you didn't know when he would return, Toga and Twice were playing cards together, and the others weren't so interesting, to be honest. Except for Tomura, who was also nowhere to be found, at least in the leisure areas of the hotel.

His mood was terrible those days. While you were the only one he wouldn't openly and immediately reject - the only one he really was interested in, the only one he cared about and liked to spend some time with - now you were nothing but another bug to avoid. And it hurt. But why was he treating you like that?

You were sure there was something on. He probably wasn't feeling well - you knew he wasn't. But every time you tried to talk to him, he got angry and screamed at you, slamming the door of his room right in front of you.

Still walking around the corridors, you huffed, demoralized. Then, after contemplating your situation for a while, you stopped your stroll and started walking in the opposite direction with your head held high and a renewed determined expression on your face.

Once you reached your destination, you knocked on the door in front of you a few times and, as you imagined, no one answered.

You knocked again, and again. After some time, an angrily annoyed yell: "Go the fuck away!".

Determined not to feel bad again without even knowing your faults, you rolled your eyes and patiently called his name.

"Tomura, open the door".

He didn't answer, so you tried again.

"Tomura?".

A loud thud coming from right behind the door. You jumped a little, not expecting it, but recomposed yourself quickly.

"Fuck!". Mixed with rage, you could feel immediate regret in his voice. He had probably broken something important.

"Tomura, please let me in".

Silence, again. This time, however, you tried to force the handle, not caring much about his imminent reaction.

You heard his heavy steps getting closer to you and a while later the door opened, revealing a stressed out Tomura with dark circles more evident than usual under his crimson eyes.

You were right, he wasn't feeling good.

"The fuck do you want?".

"I worried a lot about you. How are you?", you asked.

"Fuck you". He tried to close the door but you didn't let him - which of course bothered him.

"Tomura, look me in the eyes. I didn't do anything to you. Why are you avoiding me?"

He huffed, irritated, and tilted his head back, nerves on edge.

"Leave me alone".

"I won't".

"If you don't leave I swear I'll kill you".

"Do it, then". You looked at him straight in the eyes, and he stayed silent.

"Could you let me enter?", you tried again, noticing that he had calmed down a bit.

He didn't respond. Instead, he turned his back to you and walked in the direction of his bed, leaving the door open for you to enter.

As you closed the door behind you, he laid in bed bringing his knees close to his chest in a fetal position.

The room was a complete chaos, even worse than the other times. A few steps away from you there was a broken controller, the object he must have been throwing at you a few moments before.

You sat down next to him and placed a hand on his hip, caressing him comfortably, in sign you weren't there to annoy or bother him on purpose, and that you were there for him whenever he felt like venting to you.

"My headache is worse these days", he said at a certain point, without you asking first - which was a good sign, the very first positive turn after days spent trying to break his hard shell.

"You should have told me, I would have tried to help you way sooner".

"I don't like people seeing me this vulnerable".

"It's okay if they care about you and you do the same with them".

He shrugged but said nothing.

You looked around the room and noticed that there was a video game playing on the computer.

"Were you playing videogames?".

"You can see it with your own eyes".

"Tomura, you know that videogames only make migraines and headaches worse when you already have them frequently...".

"Ah, fuck you", he said with his eyes closed in a grimace of pain. "Nothing changes anyway".

You sighed and got up to turn off the computer, and once again he didn't say anything. Probably in this case you were doing him a favor, since he had the strength to do very little at that moment.

You sat back next to him and looked at him for a few moments.

"Green lights are said to help with headaches. It's different for everyone, but do you want to give it a try anyway?".

"Whatever".

You turned off the main light in the room and on the LEDs, setting them to green.

"I'll go get you some paracetamol, I'll be back in a minute. Don't move", you said. "As if I planned to go away": he gave you that exact look.

You left him in his room for a moment while you went out to get the medicine. Once you got it, you returned to him with a white pill and a glass of water.

"Here you go, take it".

He swallowed it and thanked you, not moving much from his lying position.

"Tomura, come here", you asked after a while.

He turned his body partially towards your direction, looking at you in confusion. In the meantime you had sat next to him again, with your upper back leaning against the bed headboard.

"Why?".

"Just come here".

He huffed but followed your instructions anyway.

"And now?".

"Lay down on me, I'll give you a massage".

He shifted his body weight closer to you until he was positioned between your legs, then rested his chest on your belly and his head just above your heart.

"You're lucky, you know? I'd pay to have someone like me to take care of me when I feel bad".

He mumbled something, probably some insult, and hearing you mimicking him, he pinched your hip with two of his fingers - not too hard, since he was practically half dead.

You let out a chuckle, and then started massaging Tomura's shoulders, gradually working your way up to the back of his neck and then his head.

He was completely relaxed on your body, you could feel his muscles melting under your touch.

On the edge of the bed you noticed a crumpled blanket and, feeling a little cold, you reached out to pick it up. You spread it with your arms and laid it on your bodies, almost immediately feeling the relief of having something warm on your skin.

"Feeling a little better?", you asked after a while, still massaging his head, fingers tracing his scalp and occasionally playing with his cerulean locks.

"Kinda", his sleepy voice answered.

"Were you sleeping?".

"No".

"Try now. Seeing those black circles under your eyes, I doubt you've had any sleep for days".

He made himself more comfortable on you and sighed.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you before".

"Excuse me, what? I didn't hear that".

"Fuck you".

You chuckled, enjoying his borderline reactions.

"You're excused, by the way. Next time you feel bad, tell me. I'll try my best to help".

"Yeah, whatever".

You kissed his forehead and gave his figure a warm hug.