#just realized i uploaded this without one of the gifs in it :p

[eoieopda]

FORCE QUIT // EPISODE I: SCRAPS

you didn't have "anti-capitalist revolution" on this year's bingo card, but you never turn down a good time.

pairing: lee felix x reader | series masterlist (1/4) | next episode series summary: it's 2077, and life's a fucking nightmare. corporate titans ate the state and shat it back out, leaving citizens of the new republic to fall in line, or fall to their knees. a reckoning is coming — where will you fall? au: series — dystopian, cyberpunk; episode — childhood friends to strangers to something ➢insp. by: cyberpunk 2077 + the true lives of the fabulous killjoys genre: smut + angst + some fluff word count: 15.4k rating: 18+— minors do not have my consent to interact. series warnings: violence (hand-to-hand, firearms, explosives), depictions of injuries (blood/bruising/burns), some characters have cybernetic modifications, class conflict + poverty, surprise - corporations are bad!, unethical medical/tech experimentation, self-indulgent references to non-skz idols, reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns. episode warnings: above + trainer!felix, edgerunner!reader, pov switches, time skips, reference to food insecurity + reader living check to check, reader has cybernetic retinal mods + one in her hand, reader experiences temporary vision loss after being knocked out, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v penetration. a/n: each episode features a different member x reader pairing, but the plot is linear, so you'd need to read them (in order) to get the full picture! you can sign up for the taglist to be notified of the next uploads. thank you to my beloved @sailoryooons for beta'ing this and @jihopesjoint for being my emotional support internet wife even though she doesn't stan skz. ily both endlessly!

You don’t deal in absolutes, but you know two things for sure: vending-machine burritos are a crime against humanity; and Han Jisung is a dirty, rotten bastard.

The firm stance you’ve taken on the latter may or may not have something to do with the former, but you can’t draw that conclusion now — not with the abuse your taste buds are currently suffering, anyway.

“Who the fuck —” 

You cut yourself off to spit a mouthful at the ground. Notably, the remnants of that half-chewed abomination look just as awful on the way out as they did on the way in.

 “— Replaced this queso with battery acid?”

Chipmunk cheeks stuffed to bursting, Jisung blinks back at you. He says nothing — suddenly too polite to speak with his mouth full — and shrugs, unbothered. That’s when the realization hits you like a boot to the skull. Drenched in disbelief, your muttering comes out in slow-motion: 

“You spent the last of our cash on these.”

He swallows, though you don’t know how he could bring himself to do it. That act alone makes the rage you’re simmering in bubble over. 

You repeat yourself through gritted teeth, pausing emphatically between every word, “The — last — of — our — cash!”

“My bad?” He eventually offers. Tongue flicking out, he tries to gather the unidentified sauce that clings to the corner of his mouth. He fails. “Not sure what else I was supposed to find with that little money in this part of town, but go off, I guess.”

You bite your lips together to hold back the guttural yell you’re seconds from releasing. At your sides, your empty hands clench tightly. Instead of snapping — with your words or your fists — you close your eyes, inhaling slowly through your nose. Deep breaths won’t do you any fucking good in this smog, but your brain tends to work a little bit better without visual interference.

I can go another twenty-four hours, you think. Maybe.

It’s been a while since you’ve last eaten and even longer since your last job. This isn’t out of the ordinary; gaps are to be expected when you live on the fringe, jumping from thread to thread. Still, it isn’t like Changbin to leave you hanging the way he has been lately. It sure as shit isn’t like him to dodge your calls, either.

So, you figure, if you make an unsolicited visit to his office — the stock room of a bar you know better than to frequent — he won’t have a choice. He’ll have to look you in the eye and explain the dry spell, personally. He owes you at least that much.

With your plan finalized, you hold out your left hand to Jisung. In the few moments you’d taken your eyes off him, he’d apparently gone from sitting on the hood of your car to reclining fully with his own eyes closed. Basking like a little lizard in the sunlight, it’s a miracle the hot metal hasn’t burned a hole in his shirt.

“Come on.” You nudge his bent knee with your knuckles to no avail.

As Jisung is wont to do, he pouts. “But it’s so nice out — and your car still reeks, by the way.”

The absolute, rakish audacity.

If you didn’t love him, you’d probably kill him. 

Strike that. 

Love is irrelevant. You wouldn’t kill him unless and until there was a price on his head. After all, your mother taught you better than to do the things you’re good at for free.

“Do we want to talk about whose fault that is?” You ask with a roll of your eyes. The affection’s still there; you know he sees it. “If I recall correctly — and I think I do, having been the only sober person present — you were the one who got blasted and barfed on everything I love in this world.”

“I got blasted and barfed exclusively on the floor of your car.”

It’s your turn to shrug. “Exactly. End of list.”

Groaning, Jisung rolls his eyes as far back as they’ll go, but he still takes your hand. He always does, always has. With your help, he scoots his ass down the hood and lands with both boots — precisely where your ejected burrito bite did, not five minutes earlier. You can’t stop the satisfied grin from spreading when he whines again, this time louder and with twice as much despair.

After playfully shoving your passenger towards his door, you unlock your own. You don’t dump yourself into the seat, however; not yet. A wall of horrible heat is waiting for you the second the door opens, and you know better than to run into it, headlong.

Jisung is less patient. He’s also more regretful, face twisting in self-imposed anguish when he drops down onto the sun-scorched leather seat. And, to your delight, the hits keep coming. You watch with a smile when the consequences of last weekend’s actions hit his nostrils. The look he gives you falls somewhere between humbled, apologetic, and absolutely dead inside.

“Not one of my finer moments, I’ll admit it.” He acknowledges with a wave of his hand. Resigned, he sighs, “I’ll scrub the shit out of the floor mats the next time we can afford a wash.”

Satisfied, you finally climb behind the wheel. Pushing through the slightly-muted sting of the seat against the backs of your bare thighs, you put your foot on the brake and lift your right hand to press your thumb to the ignition port. The roar of the engine covers the way your breath hitches, but Jisung doesn’t have to hear it to notice the grimace that accompanies it.

“Still sore?” He asks. 

To his credit, he looks genuinely concerned as he reaches across the center console and takes your hand in his. It’s gentle, the way he tilts your palm up, but the movement burns in every single one of your tendons. This time, you know you have a captive audience, so you don’t flinch. 

Despite the trouble it’s giving you, you have to admit that the new enhancement looks beautiful in the sunlight. In the center of your palm, two rectangular, silver brackets refract iridescence. Their shine contrasts sharply with the matte, midnight black cybernetic plating that now covers the majority of your palm, spreading to the first knuckle of your fingers but coating the length of your thumb in its entirety. 

More than beautiful, it’s deadly — and it aches like a motherfucker.

“I read a study about these ballistic co-processors last night while you were knocked out,” he hums. 

Classic Jisung. 

He has no medical or academic background whatsoever but wastes his time reading crank doctors’ research for fun. And, of course, he makes sure to mention it — casually and apropos of mostly nothing — in order to impress.

Gingerly, he runs his finger along the edge of the cyberware, mumbling, “It usually takes five days from installation for the musculoskeletal inflammation to chill.”

Your fingers twitch of their own volition, which prompts him to look up at you curiously. 

“Yeah, well…” You grunt.

Less carefully than you should, you pull your hand from his, tap the gear shift, and throw the car into reverse. Peeling out of the lot, you scoff without even bothering to look his way:

“It’s been ten.”

When the War came and went, it took the old way of life with it on its way out. You might’ve been late to the party by fifty or so years, but you’ve got the gist now. It goes something like this:

Korea, as it was once known, crumpled like a beer can in the face of a corporate uprising and was quickly kicked curbside with the trash. In its place came the New Republic — in all its stolen, neon glory — promising technological revolution, profit in excess. Although the world’s eyes were trained on the peninsula then, not everyone stuck around to watch democracy die in real time. 

Not up close, anyway.

Some people had enough cash to run but not enough to make staying worthwhile. With their tails between their legs and their life savings in hand, they left before the capitalist rot could set in fully; chose willful blindness and headed for countries where corporations rule from the shadows rather than broad daylight.

Most people, however, didn’t leave. People like your grandparents, who hadn’t looked up long enough to notice things going to hell in a hurry. And if they did — well, maybe they saw things for what they were: shitty, same as anywhere else. 

Five decades later, that fact hasn’t changed much.

Regardless of why a person opts to stay in the New Republic, their options for survival are effectively limited to two. Simply put, a person can sell their soul to the very corporations that strangled the state, or they can starve.

Nobody ever chooses the latter.

You can safely assume everything you need to know about a person based on where their next steps take them.

For example, those who crave both chic, penthouse apartments and blood-soaked streets are most likely to fall in line with WraithCo.. The name suggests that it’s a criminal enterprise run by fucking ghouls because that’s essentially what it is. More than that, it’s the arms manufacturer monopoly that out-manned and out-gunned the national military without breaking a sweat. 

The high-powered, highly-paid WraithCo. executives find joy in three things and three things only: designer suits; missiles that explode into clouds of fiberglass upon impact; and testing said missiles out on non-violent nomad encampments outside city limits.

Fucking ghouls.

Despite being the most openly violent of the major players, you find WraithCo. to be the most boring. They lack nuance, don’t bother with a false front or a positive PR spin — it’s all a little too predictable. Thanotech, on the other hand, is subtle; the perfect  cover for those who like to convince themselves they’re doing more good than harm.

In furtherance of that delusion, Thanotech replaced all public hospitals with state-of-the-art, for-profit rejuvenation centers. Worse, their lobbyists ensured that medical licensure was limited to employees of those centers, outlawing the provision and receipt of medical care outside of authorized Thanotech facilities. 

In short, those who can’t afford Thanotech’s astronomical rates — specifically, poor fucks like you — are left to fend for themselves in back alley clinics; to pray that they don’t wind up worse-off than they started, that the police don’t sniff them out, and that their new modifications aren’t just garbage-tier knock-offs.

Of course, some people give more of a shit about these designer mods than the patients who may or may not wind up with them. In that case, the last of the three titans has them covered.

It’s no fucking surprise that the Ulsan Corporation is the crown-jewel of the New Republic — it’s primarily responsible for killing the old one. As the world’s premier technology and cybernetics conglomerate, Ulsan is also primarily responsible for the research, development, and distribution of cybernetic enhancements.

Like the one your body is currently acclimating to.

No such thing as ethical consumption under capitalism, right?

Ulsan may be less obvious with its bastardry than its counterparts, but as far as you can tell, it’s not good guy behavior to eat an established state and shit it back out. Even if you can’t tie any specific, ongoing atrocities back to them, you have no qualms about adding the desperate state of the union to their indictment.

You can blame them for the desperate measures they’ve necessitated, although you won’t give them an ounce of credit for the spark of resistance they so recklessly lit.

Despite it all, there are still people out there who refuse to accept things for what they are. They find an alternative to the comply or die ultimatum — run along the razor’s edge, taking what they can get, whenever they can get it.

Like Changbin, one of Seoul’s best-connected fixers.

Like you, a gun for hire. 

Like Jisung, sitting in your passenger seat as you drive across town, who’s just happy to be included.

Generally speaking, piss and vinegar don’t mix well with club security.

If you were anyone else, rolling up to The Crypt like you own the place would be ill-advised. More than that, it would be asking to get your teeth kicked in faster than you could say, “I’m on the list.”

Thankfully, as it often does, your reputation precedes you. Nobody in the block-long line bats an eye when you cut right to the front, a fact that has Jisung smirking in a way that might otherwise get him killed. Still, the bouncer shoots you a look that says you’re more trouble than you’re worth; and you agree.

Before your friend can change the muscle’s mind, you grab Jisung by the wrist and tug him through the front entrance. You don’t let go when the door shuts behind you, although it’s more for convenience than concern for his safety. He has a tendency to wander, and you don’t have the patience.

“Haven’t been here in a while,” he muses as you drag him towards the main bar, head turning to look in every direction except the one you’re moving in.

You don’t slow down.

Winding your way through the drunks at the counter, you inch closer to the large booths along the far wall. Inside, draped nonchalantly over the plush benches, sit the big guns — mercenaries with far more sway than you, far fatter wallets. They’re living the high life you’ve always dreamed of, and they don’t even notice you staring as you pass.

“Oh, shit!” Jisung waves overhead to one of them, reminding you without trying that he — unlike you — has other friends.“S.Coups, where have the fuck have you been, man?”

You still don’t slow down.

Not when you reach the stairwell at the far side of the main floor. Not when you shuffle down the steps to the employees only section. Not even when the security camera overhead silently demands that you do.

There’s only one locked door amongst the few; you fly to it like a homing pigeon and beat against the metal with your free hand. It isn’t until the burning ache sets in that you realize you chose your right.

“Goddamn it.” You growl down at it, as if your hand will apologize for hurting. Turning your vitriol towards the door, you kick it hard, steel-toed boot forcing out a thud. “Changbin, open this shit up!”

Jisung glares as he scolds you, “Manners, maybe?”

You roll your eyes, but his expectant expression doesn’t budge.

“Fucking — fine, okay? Fine.” Hands thrown up in defeat, you take a deep breath. Your next words come out saccharine, accompanied by fluttering lashes that can’t even be seen. “Changbin, darling, could you please open this shit up?”

The two of you wait in dead silence for several seconds before Jisung’s hands fly up to your hair, unprompted. Your surprised yelp doesn’t faze him. He grabs the bobby-pin from where you’ve stashed it under your ponytail, drops to his knees, and starts to work.

You snort, “Well, damn. Look at you!”

Truly, you’re impressed. Jisung normally leaves the dirty work to you, yet here he is — breaking and entering.

They grow up so fast.

He tries not to look proud of himself, but his cheeks blush a shade of sakura and rat him right out. Though you’re sure he’d love to, he can’t even lift a hand to wave you off before the lock clicks. With a quick twist of the knob, he pushes the door open.

Changbin’s office looks close to normal, with a few notable exceptions. For starters, he’s not in it. The man you’re dealing with never sees the light of day if he can help it.

Jisung pipes up first: “Okay, what the fuck?”

The office chair Changbin normally occupies is spun to the side, as if his ass left it in a hurry. Even odder than that is the small, green light which indicates that he didn’t shut off his computer before leaving it unattended. It’s not a decision someone like Changbin — neurotic and paranoid to a borderline clinical degree — makes on his own.

That, you know outright, is a problem.

Cautiously, you slip past Jisung and walk on eggshells towards Changbin’s desk. You know it’s stupid, that no one would bother rigging the floor tiles to blow under the weight of your boots, but you can’t ignore the way your gut twists with every step. That dread only gets worse, the closer you get.

To the right of his primary screen, there’s a half-eaten vending-machine burrito that’s so covered with ants, you almost mistake them for pepper flakes. That sight makes bile rise in your throat, in and of itself, but it’s the untouched cup of coffee that sends a tingle of panic down your spine. Around the base of the glass, hardly visible on the sheet of paper underneath, is a water ring. 

That coffee — at one point, however long ago — was iced.

Changbin would kill you for it if he were here, but he isn’t, so you drop down into his chair. You pause as soon as your ass settles onto the leather, still not convinced that one wrong move won’t set off some sort of trap. The breath you’ve been holding leaks out slowly when your actions go without consequences.

A quick glance up at Jisung confirms that he looks exactly as spooked as you feel. You watch his Adam’s apple bob when he swallows hard. 

He knows the answer before he asks, but that doesn’t stop him. It comes out scratchy, riddled with hesitation that says he doesn’t really want to hear the response. “He hasn’t been here in days, has he?”

You shake your head, just barely, then turn to the desk. Bottom lip pinched between worried teeth, you scan the surface for anything you missed on your first pass.

Give me a hint, you motherfucker. All I need is a breadcrumb.

It’s the absence of something that grabs your attention. Eyes narrowing, you lean forward in your seat to get as close as possible to his monitors.

“Does that…?” You start to ask but your voice trails off before you finish; thoughts moving too quickly to inventory before the next one arrives.

Though black, the screens in front of you aren’t lifeless. If anything, they’re still backlit, glitching subtly in a way they shouldn’t — not if the system had been locked, powered off, or otherwise put to sleep. You don’t have to be a netrunner to know that someone is running an opp, fucking up the computer’s processing and leaving it brain dead.

It’s so small that you almost miss the minimized window at the bottom left-hand corner of his secondary monitor, screen otherwise barren. Hesitantly, you reach out your hand and press a trembling finger to it.

Jisung is hovering so closely over your shoulder that you can practically taste that burrito on his breath. You elbow him once in the chest, hard.

He coughs, pointing to the screen as he sputters, “What the hell are those?”

“Numbers, Jisung.” You deadpan. “They’re called numbers.”

Ignoring the way he grumbles in response, you grab your mobile from your pocket. It springs to life at your sudden touch and broadcasts a holographic home screen in the air just centimeters above the glass. Just as fast, it tracks the movement of your eyes flicking through the list of applications. With the faintest shudder, the GPS navigation consumes the screen.

You repeat what you hope are coordinates:

35.2029, 128.6001.

As the map loads, you and Jisung exchange glances that are underscored by tense swallows. He knows it, and so do you: 

No matter where that pin ends up dropping, you have no choice but to go.

It takes three hours to drive from Seoul to Changwon. Although it’s not a route you’ve taken in years, or one you ever expected to take again, you still know it like the back of your hand. You can still navigate every turn — every crater and curve — with your eyes closed, even now. 

Despite that fact, your decision to race to the southeast this time has nothing to do with sentimentality for the hometown you left five years ago. 

This is just for Changbin, you repeat like a mantra, pressing harder on the accelerator. 

With every stoplight and thought you race through, the background grows blurrier but the big picture gets clearer. Changbin himself has nothing to do with it; and you’re not as selfless as your inner monologue keeps claiming. You correct yourself:

This is for me and my empty bank account.

Really — who could blame you?

You need steady contracts in order to eat. Without Changbin, those get fewer and farther between. It’s the transitive property, or whatever; basic math. You might starve without him, and that is the one thing in this life that you’re unwilling to do.

In the passenger seat, Jisung stirs. When he speaks, his voice isn’t weighted down with exhaustion in the way it usually is, halfway through a car trip. For some reason, it makes your stomach turn to consider that — for what is probably the first time ever — he isn’t sleeping through a drive.

“He left in a hurry,” he quietly notes.

Out of the corner of your eye, you glance at him and confirm the presence of that worried crease between his eyebrows. It’s not accompanied by the usual, furiously-bouncing knee. That makes your stomach turn, too. Clearly, he’s vaulted over mere anxiety and landed somewhere close to shutting down.

You nod. “He did.”

It spooks him when you take your right hand off the steering wheel and give his elbow a brief squeeze. You’re not the affectionate type; you both know this. It always makes your rare touches more ominous than comforting.

“Do you think he was running to something, or running away from something?”

Leave it to Jisung to say the quiet part out loud. 

Normally, you have an answer for his constant questions; and if you don’t, you resort to lying or guessing. This time, however, you don’t bother with either of those tactics because it doesn’t matter. Whatever the correct answer is, it’ll still feel wrong because Changbin doesn’t run.

Period.

Full stop.

So, the conclusion your brain keeps trying to come to is that he didn’t — he wouldn’t — if it came down to choice. The only reason Changbin would’ve disappeared like this, suddenly and wordlessly, is if he was taken.

Pulse hammering loudly in your ears, you don’t hear Jisung announce that your destination is only a few hundred meters down the road. Without his emphatic pointing out the windshield ahead, you simply would’ve continued racing forward, taking the speed limit as a suggestion to be ignored. Thankfully, your lead foot switches to the brake with enough time to make your turn. Tires hit dirt; your car fishtails as it transitions from the road to the worn-out path to your right.

“The fuck is this place?” You mutter, more to yourself than to Jisung.

It’s obsolete, you know that much. 

Something akin to an industrial park, but one that clearly hasn’t been used since before the War. There are electrical towers dotting a perimeter around the space, none of which are operational; the grid system was replaced by wind power, then by solar energy no fewer than fifty years ago. The driveway below is so cracked that patches of weeds have overtaken most of what remained of the pavement. All the rest is weathered, reduced to broken bits of cement and dirt.

Your car slows to a stop halfway down the parkway, surrounded on both sides by empty storage units with doors either broken or missing entirely. Hair raising on the back of your neck, you park but don’t kill the engine. Slowly, you rest your right hand over top of the holster strapped to your thigh and open your car door with your left.

The sun set a few hours into your drive. Its absence hasn’t done a damn thing to break the thick heat waiting for you outside. Humid air settles on your skin and leaves a sheen of sweat behind like a handprint, sticky.

“These were the coordinates,” Jisung affirms with a sigh. He stays seated inside the vehicle, leaving you to wonder why. He’s either too panicked to move, or correct in assuming you’d tell him to sit his unarmed ass back down before you made him.

You don’t respond. 

Instead, your eyes continue to scan the property for signs of — well, anything. Movement, a heat signature, whatever might register on your optical mods. There’s nothing, save for the stray tumbleweed somersaulting across the empty lot. You narrow your eyes to zoom in, heart pounding with anticipation.

You almost scream when you see it, but you swallow the urge. Fear won’t do you any good, but the semi-automatic strapped to your thigh might. It’s in your palm before you can blink, cocked and aimed at the figure ahead. At the bottom of your field of vision, your ammo count glows in translucent, block letters.

So, the ballistic co-processor is worth the pain.

Their posture is casual, legs dangling from the metal catwalk they sit on. Their elbows rest against the railing in front of them, as if they’re leaning on a counter in a bar and not spying on you from a scaffold four meters overhead. The way they’re watching in silence is unsettling enough; the wooden tal obscuring their face is fucking nightmare fuel, if you’ve ever seen it.

Head tilted curiously to the side, the stranger stares down at you through small eye holes, wooden mouth frozen in a hand-carved smile. Whoever they are, they’re immersed in the bit. They exaggerate every slow movement for their audience of two.

Good for them, you scoff to yourself.

Gloved hands come up to pantomime “don’t shoot” mere seconds before they grab hold of the railing in front of them. Just as quickly, they swing themselves underneath with a kick of their legs until they’re falling, falling, falling towards the ground below. They land easily on their feet without so much as a grunt. All the while, dust swirls in pirouettes around their ankles, spot-lit by your car’s headlamps.

“What — what the fuck?” Jisung squeaks. 

You don’t answer, but that doesn’t stop him from repeating his question, over and over.

Hands still raised, the stranger slowly closes the distance between you. Their fingers wiggle slightly in some demented version of a wave; they’re taunting you. The unhealed part of you wants to shoot those fingers off, one by one. 

You’ve never been fond of clowns.

“If you like having kneecaps without bullets in them, I suggest you stay still, chingu,” you scoff, now more annoyed than alarmed.

To your surprise, they listen. Their feet still, side by side; and their hands stay where you can see them. That is, until they curl all of their fingers into their palm, except for their right index finger. With it, they point silently over your shoulder.

As soon as you can whip your neck around, a gloved fist collides with your temple. The last thing you see before your vision goes black is a second, wooden smile looming over you.

A hushed tone manages to nudge you awake.

“You really can’t keep doing this. Seriously, your people skills are awful.”

The whole world’s blurry, and you can’t make out the source of the sound, but you’re coherent enough to know it when a second voice chimes in. It’s much less gentle than the first, higher in pitch and twice as exasperated. It snaps, “She was armed.”

“I had it under control,” the first voice huffs. 

The two seem to be too lost in their argument to notice your eyelids fluttering or your fingers twitching. Your wrists aren’t bound, you realize, but that fact doesn’t help you much in your current state. Back resting heavily against the thin nylon cloth of a cot, it’d take more energy than you have to spare in order to get to your feet. Worse, your eyes don’t seem interested in cooperating.

They should be by now. 

They’re open, you’re conscious, and —

Motherfucker.

The more awake you become, the more the ache in your temple reverberates down your jaw. You know without looking that the right side of your face is bruised to hell and back. Scraped up, too, if you had to guess; you hit the gravel like a bag of bricks.

They must’ve done it on purpose, hitting you exactly where they needed to in order to scramble your visual input. The most you get is shapes, black and white static. It wasn’t the hardest knock you’d ever taken to the head — not by a long shot — but it was perfectly targeted and timed. 

Clearly, they’re no amateurs.

One such shadow kneels down next to you. Gentle fingers tuck a strand of hair behind your ear while their other hand tilts your drooping head to the side. 

They tut, “Just look at what you did to her face.”

“From what I’ve heard, she’s been through worse,” the second voice scoffs. You watch the shadow’s shoulders as they shrug, wishing you could focus on their face well enough to bash it in.

The retort comes quickly, but it doesn’t come in Korean. 

“That doesn’t mean you can’t do better.”

The hands that gently cradle your face pull away, leaving you cold. The action itself isn’t as jarring as the sudden use of English, though — especially the accent it’s spoken with. You may not be fluent, but you can sense what’s missing: the consonant on the end of that last word.

You sense something else, too, but you’re still too disoriented to follow that thought from start to finish. It’s on the tip of your tongue, just out of reach.

Who — ?

The bastard that broke your brain must notice your face scrunching in confusion because their next words seem to be aimed at you. Clipped and unapologetic, they mutter, “Should be fine within the hour. Already been out for —” 

They suck in a breath through their teeth. You can’t tell if they’re stalling in order to toy with you, or if they’re genuinely doing the math. 

“— Seven hours or so, now.”

Fuck!

One of the two snorts out a laugh; it’s the only reason you piece it together that you spoke out loud. Emboldened by the confirmed functionality of your voice, you speak again without thinking it through first. 

You don’t care where you are or who you’re with. You only have one question:

“Is Changbin still alive? Because if he is, I’ll kill him myself.”

The man kneeling next to your cot chuckles, soft and low, but he doesn’t acknowledge your question beyond that. Instead, he addresses his hamfisted friend. “Can you please get her some water?”

“Am I a waiter now, Yongbok-ah?” The other snips, though his tone is devoid of any real heat. If his face wasn’t blurred out of existence, you’d likely find a sneer on it. “Should I roll some gimbap for her, too?”

“Actually, you should,” counters this Yongbok. His response is buried so deeply under his breath that his back talk may as well be a secret for your ears only. “Punched her clean into the next weekday — so, yeah. It’s the least you could do.”

It grows silent enough that you can hear every incredulous footstep as the waiter storms off.

The remainder says, “Sorry about him,” and for whatever little it’s worth, he sounds like he means it. You say nothing, simply marinating in your resentment. 

Meanwhile, he shifts from his knees in order to sit fully on the ground next to your cot. Elbows extended, he leans back onto his palms and sighs gently, “Minho’s not as bad as the first impressions he makes.”

You scoff so forcefully that you feel it in your sinuses. “This is the second. His first is the reason I can’t see who’s holding me hostage.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” The shape beside you sits up suddenly. He sputters, “You’re not a hostage, and this isn’t a kidnapping —”

“Then what the fuck is it?” You snap, “Huh, Yongbok?”

Blindly, you throw out a half-balled fist in a half-baked attempt to even the score. It misses by a mile, nearly knocking you off balance in the process. Your wrist is encircled by the same warm fingers you felt before, doubling over but exerting no force.

“We were scouting you. You know, like, soccer?” He chuckles sheepishly. “Changbin mentioned that you were a free agent, so to speak, and we thought you might wanna join the team.”

What the fuck?

“And — it wasn’t supposed to wind up like this.” His shadow’s hands gesture vaguely at the room you can’t see. “I did try to warn you. You just didn’t turn around in time.”

There are too many questions swirling around in your skull to choose from. One of them must break free and nudge your retinal chip back into place because something turns the lights back on. Glitching wildly, your vision flickers from low contrast to high definition. It doesn’t hurt, but the surprised gasp you choke out could easily be interpreted that way.

The man next to you is back on his knees in a second, both hands finding your shoulders to either comfort you or immobilize you — and you aren’t sure which. Against your better judgment, you ignore the reflex that tells you to fight or flee. Instead, you reach out and touch his cheekbone to confirm that the faint spots you see are freckles and not lingering sensory damage on your part.

He doesn’t even blink, much less say a word. There’s no jerk to get away, and there’s not a single question asked about what the fuck you’re doing — just tolerance. Far more than you’d be extending if the roles were reversed.

Freckles.

You aren’t embarrassed, but you drop your hand quickly and scowl at him until he does the same. Once again, he raises them as he leans back. Notably, he doesn’t wiggle his fingers like the first time you crossed paths.

That reminds me —

Abruptly, you draw your arm back to deck him in earnest. 

Just like the last time, he catches you before you can strike him; however, instead of capturing your wrist, it’s the entirety of your fist. His palm absorbs the shock, fingers closing around your hand. It’s the gentlest trap you’ve ever been ensnared in, which you hate.

Smart of you to prevent another attempt.

“Can I finish explaining myself?” He asks, voice soft. 

Bright doe eyes scan over your face cautiously as he contemplates letting your hand go. It’s disarming, sure, but you’d rather die than admit it. 

You give him absolutely nothing to work with, so he adds, “You can hit me when I’m done, if you still want to.”

All you give him in return is a glare, which he somehow correctly interprets as permission to keep going. The grip on your fist loosens, although it wasn’t constricting to begin with. Like nothing happened, you pull it away and cross your arms.

As if nonchalance has ever been your strong suit.

He stares at you, deep in thought, for longer than you know what to do with. Eyes sweeping over your features like he’ll be quizzed later, taking in every detail. It’s unsettling — what about you is even worth gawking at?

When he frowns, that spark of light in his eyes stays put. “You don’t remember me.” 

It’s not a question because he isn’t asking; he’s telling. And you have no goddamn clue what he means, no matter how loudly the voice in your head screams that you should. The familiarity buzzing through your brain can’t place him — not the button of his nose, not even those fucking freckles.

“I don’t know anyone named Yongbok,” you counter, frustration evident.

You wouldn’t be this harsh if you know how not to be. Part of you feels guilty when you see the hurt flicker across his face, but both emotions — his and yours — are gone as quickly as they appear. Consequently, the walls stay up, refusing to give. Despite you, the corner of his mouth hitches up in a lopsided version of a smile. 

That’s familiar, too.

“Never really went by it,” he chuckles. As he does, he tilts his head quizzically. 

Another bell rings, yet you can’t name the note.

Shyly, he takes his half-smile with him and looks anywhere else. The anticipation is spinning cartwheels in your stomach, tingling down the back of your neck, and you’re seconds away from trying to smack the trapped words right out of him. 

Who are you to me?

After a deep breath in and out, he glances back at you from the corner of his eye. His hesitation does nothing to prepare you for his response, which isn’t his name at all. It’s yours — a nickname, more specifically. One no one has used in damn near a decade.

“Been a while, Scraps. Hasn’t it?”

Felix has never seen anyone freeze the way you do when the realization finally hits. For a minute, he worries that Minho did more damage to your poor brain than either of them initially diagnosed; it wouldn’t be the first time. Minho’s never been known to be careful or tactful.

Your silence — and your total lack of physical response — doesn’t last, though. He nudges your kneecap with his knuckles just to make sure you can feel it. You blink rapidly, as if you’re just now remembering how.

He starts to ask, “Are you ok—?”, but your fist flies out, pops him right in the jaw, and he chokes on the rest of that question. Hands flying up to cover his face, he collapses back onto the floor with a groan. When the initial shock wears off, it dissolves into laughter that shakes his shoulders.

Honestly, what did he expect?

In a flash, you shove yourself off your cot. You’re on top of him before he can blink, pinning him down. You grip his shirt in one fist and raise the other. He braces himself for impact but doesn’t flinch, too taken aback by the fury you’re capable of communicating without a single word.

“You’re fucking with me,” you spit, breaking the silence.

Your glare is borderline feral — burning — and that makes him laugh even harder. 

“You haven’t changed a bit, you know that?”

To both of your surprise, you don’t hit him again; you don’t even try. You freeze, but unlike the last time, your eyes are shaking. Your raised arm is, too, like it’s taking all you have to keep whatever you’re feeling to yourself.

Classic Scraps.

You mutter, “You’re dead,” and it’s not a threat. 

Not even close, really. It’s a declaration, one accompanied by an expression that’s as close to vulnerable as he’s ever seen from you. All at once, you lower your arm; the rest of you slumps, too. Whispering, you repeat, “You’re dead.”

Something about your tone hurts worse than the burgeoning bruise near his mouth. It aches, even more so when he frowns. You deserve an explanation — an apology, too — but Felix doesn’t know where the fuck to start.

Maybe he should cash that reality check first.

“Is that what people are saying?” He asks.

He’s not sure what about that trips him up. It makes perfect sense that this is the conclusion people wound up jumping to. After all, he left without a word and never came back — didn’t leave a trace, either. 

Felix wasn’t the first teenager to slip through the cracks, so he’d figured that his would be another run-of-the-mill disappearance. Sure, people tend to notice when kids go missing; but that doesn’t stop the world from turning. Sooner or later, people stop looking, either too busy or too hopeless to keep holding a torch.

Eventually, they forget.

At least, that was the reality Felix had subscribed to — that, after a while, he’d slipped through the cracks of collective consciousness. It was easier to tell himself that he wasn’t missed. His guilt couldn’t keep him up at night if nobody remembered that he existed in the first place; especially when a decade slipped past in his absence.

But you did remember. 

You missed him.

You lift your knee so that you’re no longer straddling him and drop onto your back at his side.

It’s funny, he thinks as he stares up at the ceiling. The two of you spent years just like this, albeit on the hood of some junkyard sedan. Two pairs of wide eyes were always fixed on constellations, dreaming of something bigger than both of you. Of some future where you weren’t still stuck in the gutter.

“There was no trace of you anywhere.” You speak so softly that Felix is left to wonder whether you’re talking to him or yourself. “No records that you fled, no word from you, no hits on CCTV — nothing. The cops said there’d be a trail if…”

Your voice fades out before you can finish that thought, so Felix picks up where you left off: “If I was alive to leave one.”

There’s a long pause before you speak again. 

“This is where you disappeared to?”

He feels a shift beside him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the way you’ve tilted your head to gaze at him. By the time he does the same, the moment is gone, and you’re taking in the room around you. 

It’s not much, but it’s all he has: A small room in a decommissioned factory, smelling faintly of sawdust despite not containing any. The cot you just sprang from is where he’s spent most nights since he was fifteen. 

The floor underneath it — underneath you — is more dirt than concrete now, no matter how many times he’s scrubbed it; and the few iron shelves that hang along each wall are just as gross. So are the knickknacks he’s set on them, but he doesn’t mind.

The site itself is long forgotten. It’d be an eyesore if anyone ever looked, but no one bothers.

Even satellites have stopped paying it any attention, leaving it to fade into dirt and obscurity, not even a shadow of what it used to be. Once plush and inviting, the surrounding forest was leveled in a firefight that ended with ninety-percent of the nearby buildings getting blown to shit. 

The New Republic could’ve easily organized a relief team to dig through the shattered city. At any point in the last fifty years, they could’ve rebuilt what burned in that failed uprising, but they didn’t; and Felix knows they never will because that rubble has a function. Apart from burying one of the country’s most impoverished districts, it serves as a cautionary tale. A threat left behind to the masses: this is what happens when people pose risk to profits.

Still, flowers can grow within cracks in concrete. After all, his life with you started just a few kilometers away.

“Are we still in Changwon, or did you and that asshole drag me out of the province?” 

That edge of yours is ever present, and Felix is glad. It’s one of the million things he’s missed about you; a feature on the long list of reasons he wishes he could’ve called — messaged, sent a smoke signal, anything — to keep you around in whatever capacity he could.

But he didn’t. 

He couldn’t.

Felix feels the weight of a lost decade sitting heavy on his chest, so he does what he always does: he chooses light. Smiling brightly, he asks, “D’you remember that junkyard we used to run away to after curfew?”

You roll your eyes. You don’t have to say it out loud; he knows you do. The two of you spent more time there than you did in your own homes, lining glass bottles along the wooden fence posts and firing stones at them with a homemade slingshot.

“We’re a few kilometers up the road, actually.”

At this, you sit up so that no part of your body stays pressed against his. Dead silence settles in the space between you like a brick wall. You bristle, then you snap, “All that time you were dead, you were still within spitting distance?”

Felix opens his mouth to respond, but your rigid posture makes it clear that you have no desire to listen. He closes it again without saying a word. It’s what he deserves, isn’t it?

“Traded in your family, your home, your — Me.” You clear your throat to hide the fact that your voice breaks. It’s too late. “And for what, Felix? To haunt some abandoned building like a ghost?”

You clench your fists, like a grip tight enough might keep you together. That part of you hasn’t changed either, it seems. Neither has the extremely unsettling way you get quieter, the more upset you are. Just like that, he’s reminded of what you used to say: the more it hurts, the less it shows.

“I couldn’t pick you out of a fucking lineup despite all of that history,” you whisper, deflated. “And you were here the whole time.”

Talking won’t do him much good, so Felix opts to show you. Palms pressed to the ground, he pushes himself to his feet, and he doesn’t bother dusting off the back of his pants once he stands. It won’t make a difference, anyway, when the whole damn city is covered in it.

Once he steadies himself, he extends his hand to you, half-expecting you to slap it away. You don’t budge. You never do, he recalls fondly.

“One chance?” His eyes are pleading, even though you don’t look up to meet them. “It’s hard to explain, but it’ll make more sense if you see it.”

Without looking, you lift your arm and slap your hand into his. A small concession, but it’s enough to make his smile reappear. He’s practically beaming when he hauls you to your feet, and you grip his forearms to keep steady.

“Fine,” you concede with a huff. 

Then, you round on him with one pointed finger, jabbing him in the center of his chest with force. It’ll bruise, but he supposes that’s the whole point. 

“This better be worth all the fucking theatrics, or I swear to god —”

“You’ll make me swallow my own teeth?” He rolls his eyes with a low chuckle and tugs you along after him on his way to the door. “Yeah, yeah, yeah — Heard that threat a thousand times, Scraps, and you’ve never once made good on it.”

Just to emphasize his point, he looks over his shoulder at you and grins with all thirty-two of them.

All things considered, you take everything in stride. You don’t react much at all when you discover that the abandoned building is anything but; refuse to bat an eye when the two people you woke up to are revealed to be a tiny fraction of the whole.

You even keep your hand in his as he ushers you from room to room — through the clinic, the makeshift and woefully under-equipped armory, the Hub — and introduces you to whoever you come across. He might even go so far as to call you friendly, which is a first. Receiving any kind of warmth from you typically requires high-level security clearance. 

Or, at least, it used to. Felix has to remind himself more than once that, small echoes aside, there are parts of you he doesn’t know anymore. This could very well be one of them.

Halfway through the tour, you finally offer up more than a lukewarm greeting and your name. It’s just the two of you now; you don’t have to make yourself palatable anymore. Blunt as ever, you throw out, “This is a cult, right? You ran away from home to join a cult?”

There she is, he thinks.

Felix pulls a face in disapproval, which you either don’t catch or don’t care about. Instead, you turn your head in the opposite direction and let your gaze sweep over the loading dock you currently stand upon.

It’s the closest thing they’ve got to a sitting room, filled with the only comfortable furniture they could get their hands on — half-busted arm chairs, ratty old couches, tables held together with duct tape and a prayer. You drop suddenly onto one such couch, jerking him back until his ass winds up next to yours on a tattered cushion. 

Felix can’t tell if you pulled him down on purpose, or if you simply forgot that you were holding onto him. Either way, he doesn’t mind, but part of him hopes it was the former.

“It’s a collective,” he corrects you, lips flattening into a firm, straight line.

“You don’t have to sugarcoat it. If it’s a sex cult, just say so.”

He tries not to laugh — really, he does — because the last thing you need is an enabler, but your deadpan delivery has always hit him where he’s weakest. He tries again while swallowing a chuckle: “It’s the Black Screen, home to the most talented and ungovernable motherfuckers on the peninsula.”

You don’t look impressed. Felix doesn’t take it to heart.

“We’ve got a reconnaissance team, netrunners —” 

As if he’s doing a roll call, he points to nearby stragglers with every position he names. 

“— corporate defectors, combat vets, medics, ex-fixers —”

He nudges you with his elbow, wiggles his eyebrows and murmurs, “— Edge runners —” 

If that look in your eye is any indication, you still hate it when he does that.

“And a couple of wayward drunks who — well…” Felix pauses for a moment to think. It doesn’t help, so he shrugs, snickering, “I dunno how they got here, and they don’t contribute much, but they’re fun to have around!”

The corner of your mouth twitches, ever so slightly. He grins down at you, as if to say gotcha. 

“So, it is a sex cult,” you repeat flatly after a beat.

Felix can’t beat your bit, so he may as well join you in it. Bested, he sighs, “Yeah, pretty much.”

You hum in acceptance of his defeat, clearly amused by how easily he still gives in to you. 

With pursed lips, you continue to take in your surroundings. Your brow furrows while you process the information you’ve been bombarded with so far, but you don’t offer up any further questions or snide comments. Thankfully, the silence that falls over you both feels a lot less like lead than the previous one.

Felix’s gaze stays fixed on you, though you’re too busy looking elsewhere to notice. Maybe you couldn’t recognize him, but shit — he’d know you anywhere, anytime. You’ve gotten older, of course, finally grew into those features of yours. Still, there are hints of the kid he used to know hidden all over your face.

Original traits aside, the new additions — the tattoos, for starters — all read like you. In fact, Felix is fairly confident that he’d know who they belonged to, even if the other context was removed. After all, the cyberware installed into your hand can’t undermine the familiarity of it resting against his palm. 

And it sure as shit still hits like it used to.

He considers it a blessing, really, that so much of you survived the years that flew by without him. That the scrawny girl next door — ready and willing to fight God over a single slight — still rolls her eyes the same way, still speaks in that satoori his non-native tongue could never mimic.

“Maybe I’m missing something,” you announce suddenly. The unexpected sound of your voice startles Felix so much that he jumps, knocking his shoulder into yours in the process. You ignore his reaction and continue, “This just looks like someone is collecting people as a hobby. What are you all doing here?”

Oh.

Yeah, that’s a fair question.

“We’re… starting a fire,” Felix muses. 

You arch an eyebrow expectantly, although the rest of your face remains impassive. It’s less of a demand for him to continue than it is permission for him not to stop.

“And we’re going to burn it all down.” He hits you with a devilish grin, drops his voice low in a way that makes you shiver involuntarily. “The corpo-rats, the lies they sell — all of it.”

“Sounds like anarchy,” you say, tilting your head to the side. There’s a beat, then you grin to match his. “Sign me up.”

Felix stands at the far side of the dining area with his arms crossed and his head leaning back against the cinder blocks behind him. His legs are crossed at the ankles, knees aching from the sheer amount of time he’s been holding the wall up. 

As much as his body wants to sit, the rest of him is out of options. The only table that isn’t full is the one you’re occupying with Changbin and Jisung. After the day you’ve had, you deserve time alone with something familiar. He recognizes that he isn’t that. 

Not anymore — and not yet, either. 

He finds it hard to stray too far, though. You’ve always been able to fend for yourself — that black-and-blue jaw of his is proof enough — but it’s a role he can’t help falling into, looking out for you. Muscle memory.

Although Felix can’t quite make out anything that the three of you are saying, it’s clear as a damn bell when you slam your palms down on the table. Just as obvious is the split second in which your anger gives way — when the pain in your right hand finally registers in your brain.

“That one going to be a problem?”

Hyunjin, as usual, seems to appear out of thin air. He sidles up to Felix and takes up the spot next to him along the wall. All it takes is one quick glance to confirm it — he’s exhausted. Dark half-moons sit in the wells beneath his eyes like ink, silently informing Felix of yet another all-nighter; still keeping secrets as to where he goes at night when everyone else is sleeping.

But Hyunjin isn’t a mystery Felix will ever be able to solve, so he looks back in your direction and asks, “Who, Scraps?” Then, with a shake of his head, he sighs, “No. She’s a cherry bomb, but she’s reliable. Far more than most, actually.”

It’s odd, Felix thinks, that Hyunjin didn’t already know the answer to that question. As the reconnaissance leader of the Black Screen, there isn’t much Hyunjin isn’t aware of. Felix doesn’t comment on that piece, however. Instead, he does his best to interpret your reaction.

“If I had to guess, Changbin just told her about the fake kidnapping.”

And Hyunjin doesn’t do a damn thing to conceal his smirk. That was his plan, after all. 

Two weeks ago, Seo Changbin stumbled upon a lead by accident. While Felix isn’t privy to the details of what Changbin dug up, he knows it must’ve been significant. That’s the only explanation Felix can come up with as to how Changbin wound up at the rendezvous point. Nobody — not the corporate ghouls, their war dogs, or any other sorry soul  — finds the Black Screen unless they want to be found. 

Felix is privy to what happened next because it’s the only reason he wound up involved in this at all:

Whatever intel Changbin had was groundbreaking enough to score an invitation to the revolution, but he had more to offer the higher-ups than that. He dropped the name of someone who could be an asset, under the right circumstances. Someone who wouldn’t follow a breadcrumb trail for free but would tear the peninsula apart to find whoever owed them.

For what it’s worth, Felix disagreed with that characterization the second he heard it. Despite the mask you like to wear, you’re incapable of being self-centered. You’ve never been profit-driven, heartless, or attachment-avoidant. Just hellbent on survival for you and the people you feel responsible for, even as a kid. 

The only reason Felix hasn’t asked you about your motive outright is because he knows you’d lie. The truth is simple: Unless it was for someone you care deeply about, you wouldn’t waste gasoline on speeding back to a place you hate.

Hyunjin clears his throat, pulling Felix out of the daze he’d fallen into. Given the pointed look on his face, Hyunjin must be repeating himself when he says, “She got you bad, huh?”

Confusion forces Felix’s brow to furrow. 

“This?” He takes a wild guess and gestures to the bruise on his jaw before waving dismissively. “Nah, her form is terrible. Truly garbage-tier follow-through. I can teach her, though.”

Hyunjin pushes himself off the wall and moves to exit the dining area. As he passes by, he gives Felix a patronizing pat on his shoulder. “Not what I meant, Yongbokie.”

Felix frowns, unsure how to take what he’s being given. 

The fuck?

“Not even close,” Hyunjin calls over his shoulder. 

He shoots Felix a wink, and then he’s gone, disappearing out the door the same way he entered it — like a goddamn apparition.

“Wow. Recruited? That’s — wow.”

Jisung is doing a terrible job of pretending he isn’t blushing. He clears his throat to keep his voice even, but it’s useless. He’s not fooling anyone. 

“I didn’t realize we were so sought after.”

“You’re not,” Changbin responds bluntly. He gestures across the table to you but maintains his eyes on Jisung. “She is. You just happened to be present, and they couldn’t leave a witness behind.”

Jisung doesn’t bother to hide the way his face falls. When he opens his mouth to whine, you raise your hand and silently demand that he spare you the earache. It seems to work; he slumps dejectedly and leans with his elbows against the tabletop. You proceed to ignore him.

Affect flat, you stare straight ahead at the source of all your fucking problems. The half of you that wants to hug Changbin for being alive and well is significantly quieter than the half of you that wants to grab him by the nape of his neck and shove his face into his yukgaejang.

Bastard.

“I no longer give a shit how I ended up here,” you state coolly. Liar. “That ship has sailed, and to keep it a buck with you, Binnie —” 

He cringes at the nickname, which is exactly the reaction you sought. 

“— I’m not interested in stroking your ego for getting one over on me. It won’t happen again. What I’m still waiting on —” 

The only reason you leave that clause hanging in mid-air is to see the anticipation stir in his eyes. From where you’re sitting, it’s what he deserves: a little bit of unnecessary suspense. Really, it’s a form of reparations for the giant fucking inconvenience he’s been lately. His balance is way past due. 

Jisung, perpetually along for the ride, shovels shrimp chips into his mouth while his eyes dart back and forth between your face and Changbin’s.

You shoot Changbin a sly smile and grab his beer, tilting the can his way in lieu of a bow. His eyes narrow, visibly annoyed with your stalling, but he doesn’t audibly complain when you down the rest of his drink. Resigned, he accepts the empty can that you hand it back to him

At long last, you clear your throat.

“— is an explanation for why you’re here,” you finally sigh.

Changbin rolls his eyes so hard that they go all-white for a moment. Then, to your surprise, he glares across the table at Jisung. 

“You know, my life was way more pleasant before you dragged this one,” he huffs, gesturing to you with his chopsticks, “Into my bar.”

Just for a moment, Changbin sits with his annoyance. He’s entitled to some of it, you’ll concede. You’re not easy to love — you never have been — and you’re occasionally even harder to like. Despite that, he’s been known to look out for you in his own, mostly useless way; even in moments like this, when you’re being a fucking gash simply because you can. 

But the fact remains that you dragged your ass across a peninsula for him. He knows damn well that you accept payment in the form of secrets when cash is too hard to come by, so…. 

“Spill,” you demand.

That tough exterior of his collapses like wet cardboard, just like you knew it would. He glances around the room quickly to confirm that no one is listening in, then he pushes his empty bowl out of the way. With the threat of staining his white t-shirt neutralized, Changbin leans in and asks, “Do either of you know Jung Wooyoung?” 

Simultaneously, you and Jisung respond:

“The boxer?”

“The biter.”

Just the same, your friends turn to you with identical looks of bewilderment. You shrug, declining to elaborate because Changbin asked if you knew him, not how or how intimately. Truth be told, you’re not sure that he’s prepared for that answer.

“Anyways,” Changbin segues after clearing his throat. “He’s not up to either of those tasks these days.”

Genuinely curious, Jisung asks with a frown, “Did someone finally kill him?”

Fair question, you think.

With the way Wooyoung runs his mouth, it’s a wonder he’s lived as long as he has — assuming, of course, that he’s still alive. Beyond picking fights with people three times’ his size, his specialties include fixing matches and swiping other fighters’ significant others. If he’s not dead yet, you figure, it’s only a matter of time until the consequences of his antics come calling.

Changbin shakes his head, and the look on his face seems weirdly solemn, like the answer is even worse than that. It’s sobering; it knocks the smirk right off your face.

“He was short on cash, so he signed up for some clinical trial promising a million won for participants.”

Jisung, the resident non-doctor, sits up at this development. “Thanotech?”

You’re in the middle of rolling your eyes when Changbin intercepts, grimacing: “No, that’s the fucked up part. Well, one of the fucked up parts.”

Two pairs of expectant eyes lock on him.

“It’s Ulsan running the trial.”

You don’t pretend to be well-versed in any of the biomedical, cybernetic shit going on around you, but you do know that this particular corporation never leaks details of its research and development — not ever. Doing so would run the risk of a lesser titan swooping in to try and to dupe it. 

But that’s not the only revelation that smacks you upside the head.

“Ulsan pays for lab rats now?” You scoff, surprised by your own interest. “Here I was, thinking they used ex-employees for that shit.”

It sounds callous when you say it out loud, but it’s a universal assumption. Part of the New Republic’s mythology, so to speak.

In your lifetime, you’ve never come across a single person who used to work for the Ulsan Corporation — not one. Just the same, you’ve never heard about anyone leaving; no one you’ve ever met has. It’s beyond the realm of possibility that a corporation like that has no turnover, so where do people go when their turn is over?

The dumpster out back, some say. According to others, they wind up in a secret mass grave in the oil fields.

“When he came back, I didn’t know where he’d been or why; I just saw him wandering around like a fucking zombie.” Changbin shivers. “He’s empty now, all sucked dry.”

Jisung looks pointedly at you, shit-eatin grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Is that what happened when you —?”

An elbow to the center of his chest stops his question before he can finish asking it. He yelps instead, scooting his chair further down the table to get away from you, your sharp edges, and your even sharper glare.

“It freaked me the fuck out, and I didn’t have any answers, so I started poking around for something — anything — that might make sense of it.”

“So, that’s how you got pulled into the web.”

The voice from nowhere makes all three of you jump. You whip around to find yet another stranger. 

How many fucking people do I have to meet today? 

This particular wild card sits on top of the table directly behind yours with arms gently crossed over her chest; not closed off but cold, judging by the goosebumps making themselves known across her bare arms. Her boots rest on the chair in front of her, one chrome leg shining next to flesh-and-blood.

Whoever she is, she’s beaming. That fact confuses the shit out of you because you’re not often met with friendliness, especially from unknowns. Or maybe, you think, it’s a well-concealed effort to disarm you. Whatever it is, it’s working; the urge to snap at her for intruding is dead on arrival. 

You open your mouth to ask what she means, but you can’t get the words out before someone else interjects. 

Minho, that bastard, shouts from across the room, “Spider! Got a minute?”

Her eyes light up in a way that says she has several, so long as he’s the one asking. Without another word, she hops to her feet and pushes the chair that held them back under the table. As she heads his way, she sends you an apologetic smile, like she somehow owes you anything.

“I don’t know what they unraveled by pulling that thread,” Changbin sighs, nodding towards the pair exiting the room. “But this place has been buzzing since I got here.”

You need something to chew on that isn’t this, so you reach over and grab the bag of shrimp chips from Jisung’s unsuspecting hands. The frown he gives you is cartoonish, but as usual, he doesn’t put up a fight. Your version of an apology is holding a spare chip out to him, which he happily accepts.

After shoveling a handful into your mouth, you mumble, “So now what?”

“I don’t know about you, but if these guys —” Changbin gestures vaguely around the room with his index finger pointed. “— Give me a target to point at, I’ll pull the trigger.”

You snort, “That’s a lot of trust.” 

It doesn’t mean much, coming from you. Your metric is beyond fucked, and you know it. That word is foreign, though; so far out of your grasp that you can’t wrap your brain around it.

“Maybe it is,” Changbin mutters while he looks down at the empty can in his grip. 

For a moment, that’s all he says. All he does is stare into the black hole of its opening, as if there’s some answer lurking in the emptiness below it. He must not find it, though, because he crumples the aluminum like a piece of scrap paper. 

When he glances back up at you, you see the uncertainty in his eyes. It reads like fear, which manages to unsettle you.

“I just — I can’t see what I saw and do nothing.”

Your second month in the compound starts with a bang — no, a thud. 

With your body being forcibly ejected from your cot, crashing onto the ground, and your jaw clenching shut quickly with a click of gritted teeth.

“How many fucking times are we doing this?” You growl, less than half-awake. 

Already past today’s quota for rage, you form a fist and swing your arm back violently against the capsized cot; it scrapes along the cement floor and skitters further away from you. The sudden burst of movement doesn’t do anything to make you feel better, but it was worth a shot, you suppose.

Felix, whose sunshine smile is too goddamn bright for this hour, crouches down in front of you. He at least has the decency to look apologetic when he lilts, “Until you learn to wake up to an alarm, I fear.”

He pauses, eyes scanning for any genuine distress beyond your shitty mood.

“Does that hurt?” He frowns.

Bleary eyes follow his pointed finger to your elbow, now prickling with blood where you skinned it against the floor. It doesn’t; and you’re not even remotely concerned about it, so you swat his hand away without answering his question and shove yourself to your feet. Once standing, you wander over to your steamer trunk to grab something clean enough to wear. 

The shadowy one, Hyunjin, brought your shit to you a week ago —  thank god. He provided no explanation whatsoever for how he knew where you lived or how he managed to get inside your building, but you’re a beggar, not a chooser. You’d rather enable his burglary than keep wearing the same, re-washed clothes you came here with or borrowing from people you still don’t know well.

As you peel yesterday’s tank-top up and over your head, your gravelly voice flies out to Felix, who stands and moves to lean against the wall. “You at least going to feed me breakfast before you bore me with more target practice?”

That’s most of what your time together has been so far, anyway. The chain of command is sorting out details above your pay grade; and you condition yourself to jump as high as they may eventually ask you to.

Felix doesn’t answer you, which isn’t like him. You look at him out of the corner of your eye and find him staring up at the ceiling, like his life depends on it.

“What are you —?” 

Oh.

You glance down, cutting your question off midway through. He’s giving you and your semi-exposed body privacy, that’s what. 

Sensing blood in the water, you swim in to scoff, “You have no problem flipping my bed when I’m in it, but bras are where you draw the line? What kind of gentleman are you?”

Still averting his eyes, he rolls them. You do him the favor of tugging on a different, slightly wrinkled tank-top; but you don’t give him the courtesy of letting up.

“Where do you stand on ass, Felix?”

“Are you always this annoying, first thing in the morning?” 

Amusement slips through the cracks despite his efforts to conceal it. You slip out of the cotton shorts you slept in, dip your toes under the fabric pooled around your ankles, and flick them at him. He concedes his staring contest to the panels overhead in order to catch them.

Impressive reflexes.

“I’m this annoying at all hours of the day.” You grin impishly for just a second, then shrug. “You’re just less able to handle it, first thing in the morning.”

Bending back over your trunk, you dig through for something denim. You land on black, high-waisted shorts with a triumphant, “Aha!”, and make a big show of raising your trophy overhead. Once again, you glance at Felix to see if your attempt to get a rise out of him was successful. In a way, yes, it was — just not in the way you expected.

Based on the way his gaze lingers on your thighs and the curve of your ass, you don’t think Felix even noticed your theatrics. You don’t think he means to stare, either. As far as you can see, it’s the perfect opportunity to fuck with him further.

“Admiring the tattoos?” You arch an eyebrow and wait for him to blush out of panic at being caught. “I can recommend the artist, if you want to hit them up.”

To your surprise, you don’t rattle him. Dark eyes flick up from your body to your face, and they don’t seem ashamed of where they’ve been. Your plan backfires. More than that, it blows up right in your face, which is starting to heat up.

“The cantine closes in five minutes. Training starts in ten,” he states matter-of-factly, holding your gaze. “So, you can either eat, or you can keep pretending you’re not trying to flirt with me.”

Your mouth drops open, but you can’t even snap back at him before he chirps, “The choice is yours, Scraps,” with a playful smile.

With nothing more to say, Felix leans away from the wall. On his way out the door, he gives you a lazy, two-finger salute. Dumbstruck, you stand there, watching him leave; wondering where the hell your bumbling, sweetly shy friend from back home managed to disappear to. 

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” Felix waggles his finger at you. A smug smile toys at his lips when you let out a frustrated grunt. “That’s the problem.”

He takes a step away from you, raises his fists to mimic your posture, and throws a right jab out into the air ahead of him. When he draws it back, he pauses with his shoulders even.

“D’you see the issue with this?” He asks, loosening one fist so that he can gesture from shoulder to shoulder.

You roll your eyes. “Is it that nobody’s currently hitting you?”

Felix, to his credit, is completely unbothered by the attitude you keep giving him. He’s far more patient than he should be with you. You, however, do not take criticism well.

“You square yourself off instead of retriggering an attack,” he gently corrects you. “By not turning and leading with your shoulder —” He twists slightly backwards, so that his body is angled similarly to the way it was when he struck in the first place. “— you leave all this surface area open.”

Okay, fine. 

You’ll concede that this makes sense, but you will not admit to poor blocking. In fact, deflecting is what you’re best at, so that’s precisely what you do. 

“And how exactly am I supposed to block hits that aren’t coming?”

Felix relaxes his stance with confusion scribbled all over his face. You don’t wait for him to ask what you mean, plunging right into your notes for him:

“This sparring shit doesn’t feel real because you refuse to hit me. It’s been weeks, and there still aren’t any stakes. If you’re going to insist that I learn this — which, by the way, feels pointless when I’m already armed —”

You gesture down to your thigh, where your pistol is normally strapped. 

“— then you have to make me care.”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, opting instead to quietly chew on the challenge you’ve raised. For a split second, you think you’ve finally grasped the straw that’ll break his back. He turns towards the door and walks away, seemingly giving up on trying to teach a rabid dog new tricks.

But Felix defies your expectations yet again, grabs your gear off the counter at the far side of the room, and heads back to you. As he walks, he pulls back the slide to fish out the round that waits in its chamber. Bullet still in hand, his focus shifts to the magazine, which he easily removes from the base of your pistol’s grip. After tucking your ammunition into the back pocket of his jeans for safekeeping, he holds your now-empty firearm and thigh strap out to you. 

“Gear up.”

Now, it’s your turn to be confused. You accept the items he pushes into your hands with both eyebrows raised.

“Are we giving up on hand-to-hand, then?”

“Absolutely not,” Felix snorts with a shake of his head. “I’m just going to prove the necessity.” When you don’t budge, he waves his hand to hurry you along. “C’mon, Scraps. Strap in.”

Eyeing him suspiciously, you slip the vertical strap over your belt loop and fasten it before doing the same to the horizontal piece around your thigh. Once it’s nestled snugly against your skin, you slide your weapon into its resting place. 

Holding your hands up, you fire off a saccharine smile like the brat you are. “All done,” you chirp.

The smirk that appears on his face makes your stomach flip for two reasons, the least of which is the anticipation of his next move.

“You want it to feel real, right?” His voice drops so low that you feel it deep in your abdomen. “Fine by me.”

Like before, Felix steps slightly backwards. With a nod of his head towards your firearm, he challenges you, “Draw.”

It’s unfamiliar, seeing him counter you like this. Growing up, he was content to go in whichever direction you nudged him in. The version of Felix you knew back then was passive, agreeable to fault. You may not know what the fuck he’s planning now, but he radiates newfound authority that you almost want to respect, so you listen.

“Fine,” you demur while your fingertips trail over the cool, metal grip. “Make your point and move onto something useful.”

The next sequence of events flashes by so quickly that your brain can hardly keep up. 

Just as soon as you pull the gun from its holster, Felix turns in his spot, channeling the momentum into a strong push off the ground. He’s in the air before you can even level the barrel; and in the blink of an eye, the side of his boot collides with your hand, forcefully ejecting the gun from your grip. The power behind his kick sends the weapon flying several meters away, where it clatters to the floor with a smack amidst the quiet.

Gasping more so out of surprise than pain, you recoil your stinging fist and clutch it to your chest. He reads your expression incorrectly, if his widened eyes are any indication. Immediately, Felix breaks his stance to step across the distance in between you.

Worried hands come to rest on your biceps, squeezing gently. He urgently asks, “You alright?”

You blink back at him, throughly stunned by how fucking fast his reflexes are, and he misinterprets that, too. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he sputters. His next words come out so frantically that they bleed together over the course of one breath. “I really didn’t want to hurt you; I just needed you to understand that your gun can’t always save you. Sometimes, you have to —”

“That was insane,” you blurt out.

Felix’s eyes widen, caught completely off-guard by your interruption. It’s understandable, you think. After all, it’s the closest thing to a compliment you’ve given him over the past few weeks. 

He peeps, “Oh?”

You nod vigorously — and there’s that sweetly shy boy from down the block, blushing slightly under the weight of your attention. 

Somehow, seeing him this way feels like home; the one you knew before he disappeared, that you might actually admit to missing. Acting solely on instinct, you unfurl your right hand and seek out the warmth of his cheek, like it’ll flip a switch and turn the clock back.

It doesn’t. Of course, it doesn’t — but you can’t help feeling like this is fine, too.

Until you realize what the fuck you’re doing, and you see the starry-eyed look he’s giving you. Then, you do what you always do.

You dodge.

Patting his cheek patronizingly, you breeze, “I guess I’ll let you train me, then,” before turning to retrieve your gun.

“Oh, really now?” He laughs, like he’s already forgotten the way your mask just cracked. You can’t tell if you’re grateful for this, or disappointed. “Is violence all it takes to win you over?”

Disappointed. 

You wish he’d called your bluff again, like he did so long ago in that closet you’re currently calling a bedroom. Once wasn’t enough; you want to be caught out, to have someone refuse to let you get away with the bullshit you’re always trying to pull. For some proof that you’re not the bulldozer you pretend to be.

Felix raises an eyebrow as he tilts his head teasingly to the side. “Are you actually going to shut up and take instruction this time?”

Like that.

“Maybe.” You crouch down to grab your discarded pistol off the ground, lips pursed to keep the satisfied smile off your face. “Are you going to stop pulling punches?”

Three weeks of sparring tick by before you manage to clean his fucking clock.

It came as a surprise to both of you; not just that Felix slipped up in the first place, but that you were fast enough to capitalize on an opening he’s otherwise never created. You might’ve gasped even louder than he did when you managed to seize the opportunity — but that memory is fuzzy already. It doesn’t matter, anyway, not to him. Either way, the point stands: 

You actually learned from the shit he’s been trying to instill in you.

Having hobbled from the training room to his bedroom, Felix now sits on top of the old, metal counter that once served as a workbench. It’s not comfortable by any means, but he’d rather die than move from his current position. Between his knees, you stand close to him, holding a frozen sponge to his left eye with your right hand. 

Funnily enough, that particular hand is the reason he needs an ice pack in the first place.

For a while, the pair of you exist in comfortable quiet. It’s nice, he thinks, just being present. He would’ve been happy to carry on that way for as long as possible, but the shitty voice in the back of his brain keeps yelling that he’s letting more moments slip by than he has to spare. Wasting time that he should be making up.

He clears his throat to shake off the rust, prompting you to glance down from his forehead to his eyes. Your expression is hard to read, but there’s anxiety in there, somewhere. Felix worries that you’re worried; you’re searching for a sign that you’ve somehow injured him further.

“You’re a quick study — if and when you want to be.” His teasing sounds pathetic because his voice is barely more than a groan. Still, he smirks, “Those corporate mercenaries won’t stand a chance.”

With his good eye, Felix watches as your mask cracks a little further in the shape of a smile. 

For once, you simply nod in acknowledgement and let the compliment slip through your defenses without trying to deflect it. He wants to compliment you for that progress, too, but he’s hesitant to push his luck when he’s already flying half-blind by the seat of his pants. 

Then again, it might be worth the risk to push the envelope — even if you succeed in punching his goddamn lights out for good. He doubts that he’d complain, if that were the case. You’d be an incredible last sight to ever see, wouldn’t you?

His internal monologue pipes up again, demanding that he gamble.

Every single muscle he has aches after spending hours sparring with you, but that’s not at all what he’s talking about when he says, “You’re a knockout, Scraps.”

It’s a cop out, but it’s something. 

Just for a second, Felix wonders if you heard what he meant, and not just what he said. All his doubt disappears when that shy smile tugs even harder at the corners of your mouth.

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes, chuckling quietly. “If you want to get technical, you didn’t even lose consciousness —” 

Carefully, you bring your free hand up to his forehead and brush flyaway strands of hair out of the way of the makeshift ice pack. By contrast, your fingertips are warm enough to simmer on his skin.

“— so you’ll have to try that joke again when you actually do.”

Although you could, you don’t take your hand back after unsticking his hair from the condensation on his skin. You lower it gently, let it rest on his shoulder, and leave Felix to wonder if it’s a choice, a convenience, or a reflex. 

This eats at him.

A long time ago, this little gesture wouldn’t be something he’d have to guess at. He used to just understand, never once needed to be told. So far out of practice, he’s no longer fluent in your body language — and he hates it.

Unwilling to leave anything else up to interpretation, Felix looks up at you with one, unobstructed eye. “Wasn’t joking,” he murmurs.

You freeze without meeting his eyes. 

If he didn’t know better, he might think your retinal mods had been knocked loose again. You don’t seem to see him, and that’s all he wants. All he gets is quiet, so he tries again: “And I’m not bullshitting you, either.”

It’s his low voice speaking your real name that finally draws you out of hiding. Surprised for just a moment, your expression softens when you notice the way he’s studying your reactions. You don’t speak at first, but your bottom lip is pinched between your teeth; a telltale sign that you’re trying to.

“Since this is apparently honesty hour,” you start with an exhale.

Felix braces himself for whatever evasive maneuver you’re going to throw next. 

Shockingly, you don’t throw out a joke to change the subject. You take the ice pack off his eye so he can see you properly, set it down next to his thigh on the counter, and scrub your hands sheepishly over your face.

“You freak me the fuck out.”

You laugh despite yourself, and then you pause just like that; like you’re waiting on him to laugh at you, too. When he doesn’t, you take it as your cue to keep going: “Am I insane, or does this feel easy?

“I think both things can be true.” You shoot him a look that could — and might — kill him. He holds his hands up in surrender, but he keeps his eyes locked on you. “And I know you’re not used to easy.”

Felix doesn’t know what he expects you to do next, but your next move isn’t one he would’ve guessed. In the end, it’s your still-chilled palms reaching up to meet him, and your fingers filling the empty spaces between his. Brow furrowed, you study the way you fit together, like the words you’re searching for are hidden somewhere in the gaps of your chain-linked knuckles.

“I’m not used to it because I avoid it,” you correct him, frowning. “Easy scares the shit out of me. It just feels like a trap, you know? Like, the second you stop looking out for it, the other shoe will drop and knock your unsuspecting ass to the dirt.”

Keeping his fingers interlaced with yours, he lowers your joined hands until they rest against the tops of his thighs. You watch them go; he watches you, and he can’t help thinking that he’s the reason you armored up in the first place. That him leaving was the blow to the head that taught you to wear a helmet.

“I’ve got good reflexes,” Felix whispers, squeezing your hand.

At this, your eyes flick upwards. A microscopic crease forms between your eyebrows, and he knows exactly what’s coming next, so he says it first: “Excluding today, obviously.”

When you smile, it hits him even harder than your right hook did.

“What are you saying, exactly?” You ask, head tilting to the side as you narrow your eyes.

“Fuck the shoe.”

The look on your face suggests that he can’t possibly be serious, but he’s never been more so. Maybe he can’t promise you easy in a world like this one; and he can’t keep that fucking shoe from dropping, but he swears he’ll catch it when it does.

Felix has to let go of your hands to hold you properly. You lean into his touch when he snakes his arms around your waist; and you rest your forehead against his, careful not to press into the bruise that borders his eyebrow.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he whispers. You hum in reply, confirming your willingness to trade. “Kiss me now, and we’ll batten down the hatches later.”

Felix may have called you a quick learner, but you have to wonder what his basis for comparison is. From your vantage point, it’s him that catches on in a heartbeat, like nothing unexperienced is truly new to him. 

Coincidentally, it’s also him that’s kneeling between your thighs, bearing the weight of your hinged knees over his shoulders and making you shake with his tongue alone.

“Fuck, fuck — nngh — fuck!” 

It’s all you can say because it’s the best you can do. 

Over and over, too drunk on the sensation of his mouth, you let profanity spill out of yours. He has you dripping in more ways than one, pooling on that godforsaken counter, and you can’t spare a single thought about the mess you’re making.

Every neuron fixates on him, the cotton-candy blue strands gripped tight between your fingers, and the way he devours you, like he’s making up for skipped meals.

“F-Felix,” you beg, breathless.

Looking up at you from under his lashes, he feigns innocence. It’s bullshit — he knows you’re on the brink of death, knows your whole damn body is buzzing — and his sweet smile doesn’t match his actions. You jolt, wailing, when another kitten lick trails over your clit.

“Hmm?” That low timbre of his vibrates through you when he pulls back, panting.

God, you’re spent already, but you can’t collapse until you know what he feels like, buried to the hilt in you. Something about that need makes you shiver; has your bottom lip quivering when you manage to squeak, “Please.”

Absolutely boneless, you slump against the wall behind you. With far more grace than you, Felix maneuvers his way out from under the tangle of your legs. He ensures that they fall gently back into place on the countertop.

“Gotta work on that stamina if you’re gonna help wage a war,” he teases.

The half-powered glare you shoot at him doesn’t stop him from leaning in and pressing a kiss to your forehead. It doesn’t keep his fingertips from tracing languid lines down the lengths of your bare thighs, either.

Your voice is fucked out and weightless, far softer than you’ve ever heard yourself sound. “Is that what this is? Conditioning?”

The hand not caressing your thigh comes up to cradle your jaw, like it’s something fragile. It’s the first time anyone’s touched you as if you’re breakable, worth protecting — and motherfucker, you’re one soft smile away from crying.

“No.” 

He states it much more firmly than he kisses you. So gentle that you can’t believe it’s real until you taste yourself on him, so warm that you dissolve like a sugar cube on his tongue. 

Fuck any other person that’s ever pressed their lips to yours and called it a kiss. They’re liars, all of them. One by one, their names disappear with every passing second in which you know better.

“Need you,” you moan into his mouth. 

Fistfuls of his shirt can’t bring him close enough. Even when his head dips down and his lips are at your throat, the ache wins out. You crave him anywhere — everywhere — all over you. 

“Going crazy —” You gasp when his teeth nip at your collarbone. “— waiting on you.”

Greedy hands drop to the button of his jeans, fumbling to no avail. Apparently, your dexterity flew out the window two orgasms ago. A frustrated whine jumps out after it, pushing your head back as it goes.

Felix’s low chuckle soothes you, but it’s nothing compared to the relief you feel when his hands nudge yours out of the way. That, too, is a drop in the bucket; bliss crashes in waves when there’s no denim left to separate you. His hands land on your hips, fingertips pressing into your flesh as he guides you further down his length. 

Never — not fucking ever — have you made a sound quite as pathetic as the one you bury into the crook of his neck. You can’t classify it, not as a moan or a whimper. It’s desperate — loud. It’s an air raid siren; every fucking barricade you’ve built over the years being blown to smithereens.

This is it, you think.

Fuck your bank account. 

Fuck staring at the sky and waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Fuck your contracts, your shithole apartment, and the million different ways you were set up to lose in this life.

This isn’t about you at all. It’s about you and him; all the space and time you’re dead set on reclaiming.

This is for us.

a/n: thank you so much for reading! i’ve been working on this since JUNE, and it’s a much bigger undertaking (creatively and….. mentally) than anything else i’ve done before, so i’m scared and also excited to start sharing it with y’all.

while likes are appreciated, comments/tags/reblogs with your thoughts are really what make my brain go brrrtt.

tagging: @saintriots, @mal-lunar-28, @dabiscrustyfeet

wanna be tagged for future uploads? sign up here.

#stray kids #skz #felix #felix x reader #felix smut #felix angst #felix fic #lf #stray kids fic #skz fic #stray kids smut #stray kids angst #skz smut #skz angst #stray kids series #skz series #jade writes #re: force quit #kvanity

[heartingeto]

𝙈𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙏𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨

Summary: Who was to say, that he didn’t love you, how couldn’t he love you?

Genre:Fluff at the ending, Uhm..this took way longer than I anticipated, the writing and me uploading. Also the wrd count is like 8k I think..like the writing?? So sorrry!!

Warnings: NSFW, OFCCC FLUFF, DEMANDING, SQUIRTING, FINGERIN!! UHMM..Saliva trading??? CREAMPIE, virgin y/n soft dom getou, but he lightens up being submissive tooo, and I think that’s all, if I missed me summm..let me know!

It’s been two months since you and Suguru Getou been dating. Y’all two been spending time together but always as usual. Though ever since the encounter..with the two of y’all sometimes overplayed in your head. He haven’t made any moves since then, but…he’s been more grabbier. Touching you, not sexually but as a comfort feeling. Of course you didn’t mind it you rather enjoyed it, it was appealing. You was laying across your bed on your stomach, waiting for Uru to get done showering. In Particular your activity, you was drawing just to draw it was something you liked doing but it wasn’t goal wise. ‘Click’ was the sound the bathroom made , coming to realization he was out the shower. Turning around, you sat up facing him. The view was a sight to take in— water was still dripping, but towards his biceps. His frame made your thighs closed in..I’m sure he noticed and , his baby hairs were laid across his forehead.

Noticing you, he’d give a soft smile even chuckling in process . He always loved teasing you. It was intoxicating. You avoided your eyes from his laughter. “awwww, princess don’t be like that.” you took notice in his words, still budged to move or even look back in his direction. You guess he took upon..himself to force you cause you was suddenly faced with his palm grasping at your cheek. Noticing he had already hovered over you, you stared at him, and he had that same lazily smile..when you were sucking his P— oh no..now it’s playing in my head again. you saw the shift in Uru eyes…they looked like they wanted to…— I don’t know, devour me? You couldn’t really read his mind but hearing his voice fully caught your attention. “Mmmm…y/n watchu wanna do? Have anything in mind?” You just stared at him once more, of course you took his words in clearly he wanted me to do something? Have something planned? Then…, then you thought of it.

Your palms ran across his shoulders, and you noticed the sudden shiver he gave. Probably cause your doings were off guard? It didn’t matter, cause you was suddenly pulled in for a kiss… really— 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔…? It..? Would you actually let him..fuck you? You mean, you were ready but you knew you wanted this but you don’t know why you were getting way too over stimulated from the kiss that you two had shared. It was..rather..pleasant you could taste the aftermath toothpaste. Just from the kiss alone without any tongue included, but he must’ve read your mind cause..his warm tongue had made access within your mouth. It caused you to let out a minimum 𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒓 it seemed like he acknowledged it cause he firmly pressed his body against mine. You only wore one of his shirts , no 𝒃𝒓𝒂 just 𝑷𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔 you could already feel the heat in between your legs . You was feening for him…you..— you didn’t know your mind and body could get so adjusted to something so small, but oddly pleasurable.

He was just..sloppily letting his tongue do whatever it wanted, he was really dominating your mouth..all you could do was fidget underneath him. That was until he decided to pull away, he stared down at you, your pupils..wandered off..you forgot! He had a towel on only..you could make out something..his length. You quickly adjusted your look with a ‘’mmcht” sound and he looked puzzled cause you did just smack your lips. He paused for a moment, his voice seeping into the depths of my ears. “Smackin ya lips at me? Did i do sum wrong’?” You replied..”No…you didn’t do anything uru..I just want more.., more of you..please..?” You pleaded, your eyelashes baiting making a pouty expression. All he did was click his tongue and had a shitty eating grin on his face lifting himself off of you. Getou sat on the bed, his palms on each side of the mattress, he tilted his head at you.. you was..you knew your panties were becoming wetter. You could tell by the way your own body reacted. Even the slightest move made your legs close in..he noticed it you sure he did. He may not speak upon..but oh..he knows. The stare..that stare made you swallow , swallow harder than you anticipated you didn’t move..you couldn’t not if he told you to, and he did. He told you to move forward. “Cmmmre, take off my towel.” Is what he had said.

You being..well,you? He, he…. changed you. You weren't this, this submissive but you wouldn’t dare defile his words—..you grabbed on the edge of his towel and slowly slipped it off. He lifted up a little so it could slide off with that being a comply , his length..the brownish pretty length you saw for..you dunno how many times now. Yes, you were a virgin, but did that stop us from partaking in oral sex? No. You didn’t know what to do next, so you waited staring into his brown softened eyes. Really, Suguru was actually too good to you, one of the things you cherished about him you was lost in thought just to hear his husky voice..? “Mmm..alright, baby wan’ you to prove you want all of me, show me don’t be shy, lil girl.” That phrase made your heart, and your pumpum skip a beat..cause why did it have to affect you the way it did..? you gladly obliged , leaning down, you pleaded on both knees, the position. Slowly opened your mouth,you took his length in the tip, swirling your wet tongue around it..down here you could smell the musky yet…Dove + Men care scented all over him. He gave off a small grunt, his raven hair ; the strings pushing in front of his eyes whilst looking down at you, he used his left palm to rub in your curly natural hair he balled his fist into the locs, a firm settlement grip being placed.

“Y/N, play with that pussy for me, kay? While you use that pretty mouth of…., yours.” He struggled with the last part huh? Though..you inched your left palm towards your pumpum lifted up..your, well his shirt our shirt actually. You rubbed against your pumpum, teasing the fatness of the lips whilst softly letting out gentle voices.”Y/n focus on licking..or I’ll use that pretty throat lil girl.” You couldn’t help it..you were already becoming a mess and it was from his words. The phrase he used caused your mouth to open wider, you let your tongue stick out as far as it could and slurped all over his length..this time it sounded more like a soft moan that slipped past Getou lips. “Mmm..girl..stop the succin..I know this gon ya first time , but..you gon ride me. You can do that right.” It didn’t sound like a question..it was more..of a “I say, you deliver.” You stared at him through your watery eyelashes. You was too amused that the little suction you gave him came to a halt. He gritted his teeth in response from the light teasing but it seemed he didn’t mind. You slowly lifted up, along with our shirt we wore. Your milky, brownish breasts plopped out the size wasn’t too big or too small, it was great for a..

Yanno..? A tiddy fuck! He stared, he was drooling even his mouth was parted half way. You felt the grasp of Suguru’s hands around your frame. He pulled you on top of him, was he getting impatient..? Now, your chest pressed into his own one, and you felt the now arousal feeling within your chest, breasts? The nipples had hardened and he gave off a deep small chuckle, his hand going underneath your tubby tummy, just a lil stomach fat..but Suguru never mind such..you noticed he was palming your pumpum. A soft sound escaped from your vocals he exhaled softly, while staring deep into your darker brown orbs he held a soft sincere smile..how did he— you couldn’t really base it, you was too turned on to even..let your mind babble about such nonsense at this moment. He slid your panty to the side, it clenched down on your left ass cheek and his other hand had a grasp at it. Giving it a grip, he purposely made the cheek jiggle whilst he continually moved his fingers. “O-…ohhh..Uru, feels g-..good I thou-..thought I was gonna ride..?” He stared, one of his thin eyebrows raising..”Yeah..?” He continued moving his fingers, and you could hear the little sounds your pumpum gave..he didn’t stick them in..but you was already that wet..? you felt embarrassed. “Y/n..I’m not a bragger, but..you cannot.take.me. I have to stretch this puthy out.” The term he used for pussy..his voice made you lean into him but the hand that was playing with your ass cheek, pulled up to distance. “Stare at me girl.” Within that speech he slipped two fingers within your squelching hole that craved him so dearly.

You was moanin, panting even a little of drool seeped from the corners of your mouth, and he enjoyed every ounce of seeing you so..stuck. Even himself had a hard time. It was hard for a min now..but it was worth it. Each time your heat soaked up his abdomen or your soft voice escaped his length twitched he groaned along with ur sounds, he found..he found that particular spot— oh how his fingers worked like magic..no, they were magic. Fuck, it felt so good you was moving your hips, and he stared biting his bottom lip whilst leaning up in your ear. “Gonna cum? Make that fuccin puthy squirt, gonna make a mess baby?” Ohhhh..! His words pushed it, your walls clambered down he winced at the tightness he felt. You were cumming, even squirting while his fingers guided you through your high your legs trembled and voice felt or was..a little hitched. You felt throughout all the times he had fingered you..thus was the far best orgasm you reached, maybe cause you was so fucking horny. It seemed he couldn’t hold back, cause you felt yourself being lifted up hovering over him with that strength, well…he always had it.. you just didn’t know he could maybe pick you up..? You thought I guess muscles sometimes did mean everything.

On top of Uru, his angry length slapping against your pumpum. You flinched a little, then he directed it towards your twitching hole, it caused you to wince just a little and he held you tightly. He didn’t want you to run I guess. “Look baby, it’s gon hurt..you gon have to bare with me, I wanna feel you just as much..” was all he said..before getting a good angle at your needy hole, with yourself already stretching. One thrust, with a slam of your hips being downward, a sudden murmur whine had escaped your throat. Oh..the pain wasn't as bad..but it sure as hell was a stretch, it’s as if his fingers ain’t do any justice but just for him.. you’d take it. Slowly, he thrusted his hips meeting both of y’all’s crotches with each plap sound..for some reason your voice left those plump brownish lips of yours. Your juices also made it easier and he was a mess, his face the hue of his light painting. He had both of his palms on each side of your waist, his fingers sometimes fiddling with the stretch marks or he’d grab at your ass just to make it jiggle even though it did that on its own when it crashed into him. Y’all both were moaning, sweat dripping from your brown skin and his being included. He was in control..it’s been about a good 5 minutes and your pumpum was feeling better than before..oh so much better. The pain that was there left a good..stimulating feeling, a rosie feeling you couldn’t comprehend.

“Shitttttt…pussy so good gripping me like crazy..” His words held such a sultry to them, the way he said it..why was he so..fuckin..’ attractive. You remember what he said, so you arched your back a little..and you had a good idea, you were gonna ride him well. So you enchanted your speed, moving your hips up and down on his crotch…! “Uhffhmm, uru so g-..ggggoooood..” your mind felt clouded and you didn’t even notice how getou face expression look cause you began to have fun..you wanted to take over and he was the one letting out moans now..his palms moved upwards until they landed on both breast’s. Flicking at your nipples, you started to move your own hips in a circular motion..oh shit! Wanting to take advantage seem to fail..cause he was hitting that sweet spot..and your hips slowed down which made him notice. He didn’t like that, that you played with him , I mean of course he did! But he had to show you that..you can’t go against him during this kind of play. So he started thrusting his hips upwards while a sudden whiney sound slipped past your mouth..”A-..uhhhh!! Uru, please—“ He knew you was close, he was reaching his breaking point as well, he used his free hand to make your back arch against his chest. His thrust being a constant rapid pace and your pumpum was gushing like crazy even if you hadn’t come yet. The noises however,

they were like music to his ears, and he enjoyed every bit of it, he enjoyed everything about you that's what brought him the most satisfaction. Doing whatever that made you happy, “mmmm..pussy so wet,,, gonna cum?? Squirt that fuccin pussy all over this dicc, come on girl ride this shit.” Oh..! You were doing it, y’all was moving in sync and you were already squirting all over him..it wasn’t as if you hadn’t been delaying your orgasms..cause you was! You had little mid ones..but this! Was the peak, your hands was on the sides of the bed keeping yourself up. Uru roughly sloppily pull you into a tongue kiss session, his saliva trading with yours while he jitters, dumping his nut within your walls. He even lets his moans out within your mouth and it causes your walls to tighten such that he breaks the passionate kiss. Looking at you, he held you in a huggy position. “Fuckin love you Y/n you’ll forever be my baby, my princess, my joy my pride.” Your stomach and heart caught butterflies while his length poured the rest inside, and you felt the warmth you were sure some even split out, coating a ring of mixture fluids around his length. The sheets were soaked now but shit..staying like this a little longer wasn’t bad either. “Suguru..I love you tooo..we should wash up..” “mmmm…mmmm.., yeah we should.”

holsjsshehehey HOLY SHIT IM SORRY GUYS THIS WAS LONG BUT THIS THE LAST UHMM FIC WTV U WANNA CALL IT, if I made grammar mistakes sorrrry look I wanna have my own style , USING SORTA PUSSY AND DICK MAKES ME CRINGE BUT I RLLY LIKE THIS I HOPE YALL DID TOO.

#x reader #jjk smut #black y/n #jjk geto #getou suguru x y/n #jjk fanart #jjk x you #writing #smut #jjk x y/n #jjk headcanons #jjk fanfic #jjk gojo #getou angst #chubby #chubby reader #everyone

[cmoundiamante]

OWN LITTLE P*RN STAR ✦ P.SH

spin-off taglist

pairing professor!sunghoon x afab!reader

summary Making porn videos was your job, dedicating each one of those to your professor was a feeling. He watched those videos one by one, but that was a coincidence.

genre smut, college!au, one shot

warnings age gap (psh 37. reader 23), petnames (honey, good girl, doll, bitch, babe.), reader is a pornstar, idols mentions, masturbation, use of sex toys, squirting, sex tape, swearing, dirty talk, nipple play, daddy kink, blowjob, titsjob, spanking, unprotected sex, cowgirl, doggy, creampie.

a/n hello everyone!! BTW TYSM FOR THE 100 FOLLOWERS YALL ARE THE BEST. here is what u ask for, tbh i get horny writing this, i hope u too (; also i wanna explain something about the taglist, there were some blogs that i couldn’t tag idk why, so i will just send a message to the person who asked it with the link of the os. i remind u, english is not my first language so pls be kind (: any correction will be considered, not only to improve reading but also for my learning ^^ don’t forget to reblog or leave a comment 🩶 IMPORTANT there was a misunderstanding when i said i was going to delete it,i meant that i was going to delete the taglist (which had a lot of notes, that's why I put the link of the os there, tysm btw🥹), I'M NOT GOING TO DELETE THE ONE SHOT.

wc +5,1k

Your legs were shaking from your third orgasm. The vibrator stimulated your clit forming convulsions all over your body, you had a knot tied in your stomach that you were soon going to untie. You moaned in the hottest way you could to satisfy the viewer, talking dirty and screaming at the overstimulation. Your eyes rolled back, yet you were the only one who could appreciate and feel that. "Daddy, I'm co-" without being able to finish the sentence, you came undone for last time, at the same time the most pornographic moan that could be heard in that video, being unable to properly spin a sentence to say goodbye, so you simply turned off the camera, which could have almost been ruined by being soaked in your liquids.

The body tiredness you had was dominating your whole body, but you couldn't leave everything dirty now, you were grateful that you did it on the floor instead of on the mattress. Naked as you were, you grabbed the mop and began to wipe away the moisture you had left behind, until it was completely dry and odorless. You put on your pajamas, wanting to sleep, but you had something to do first, which was to study for your biology exam.

There were 2 weeks left for that exam, but it depended on your life to pass it, the professor of that subject was one of the most demanding in your university, so it was convenient for you to study.

You made porn videos, but you also had another kind of future planned, a bit ironic isn't it? No one knew about this part of your life, not your family, not anyone from that community, not your best friend, absolutely no one. The idea came one completely random day when you were ovulating, you came up with the idea of recording yourself masturbating, clearly without showing your face, and uploading that video to PornHub. You didn't expect that video to have the views it did, but thanks to that video you kept doing it , you started to generate income, you bought more materials and sex toys to also make other types of content. But it was just your secret.

You opened the biology book and started reading the concepts you had to learn for your exam. You liked that subject, but you liked your teacher better. It wasn't just the need to get good grades to make him proud of you, but you also wanted to get his attention somehow.

The next morning, when you opened your eyes, you realized that you had fallen asleep studying, you were so sleepy that you didn't realize where you had finished reading. When you saw the time you didn't wake up, as you were lucky to have woken up at a time when you had time to get ready to leave. On your way to college you went the whole trip with headphones, from the time you got on the bus to the time you sat at your desk, waiting for your best friend to arrive, who by the way, hadn't answered your messages since yesterday afternoon.

The students were coming in and your friend wasn't coming, so you decided to send her a message.

you: bitch, where the fuck are u now?

bestie🩵: IM OMW

bestie🩵: i just woke up, i wasn't home and i fell asleep late last night

you: where have u been?

bestie🩵: …

bestie🩵: wait for me to get there

When your friend arrived it wasn't long after that message, but she only got a glance from literature professor, Jake. "Did you see the time, miss?" your friend shrugged. "My apologies, sir." You knew her well enough to recognize that she was weird. She sat down at the desk in front of you, put her backpack on the floor, and turned to look at you. "I did something wrong yesterday." Her face looked frightened. "But I don't regret about anything."

"What? Did you kill someone?" she shook her head. "Bitch, you didn't tell me anything, what have you done?" she looked around to make sure no one was listening to her conversation. To all this you thought, how serious was what she did? "Professor Sim." there's no way. "Girl, don't tell me that-" "I slept with him." On the one hand you felt happy for her, it was her platonic love since you both entered college together. You opened your mouth showing surprise even though you already knew how the sentence was going to finish, however she didn't let you speak, re-limiting something. "If I could do it, so could you."

"Nah, he's yours, thank you so much for the offer anyway." "Who told you it was going to be with Jake?" she subconsciously screamed, capturing stares from some of your classmates, thankfully not Jake's. You gave her a light blow on the arm. "I've seen you look at Professor Park during class," she whispered near you. "You eat his bulge with your eyes."

You laughed, agreeing with her. "Maybe... Anyway, it's just an erotic desire." The two of you were shameless to talk about these kinds of topics in public, but you were both willing to break the taboo. "If I were him I'd fuck you, you're too sexy just to exist." you smiled covering your cheeks. "You flatter me."

"Okay, speaking about Sunghoon, how are you doing with your studies?" As you listened to her talk, you opened your backpack to take out your belongings and put them on top of the desk. "I have it under control, but I have a question about some concept." Your friend, who was practically doing the same thing as you, gave you a mischievous look. "You already have an excuse to go see him today." Jake's voice was present in the classroom, you saw your friend startled, but when you realized it you noticed how Jake's eyes fell on her, having a peculiar gleam.

These two…

You walked through the empty hallways of the place wishing that the principal wouldn’t see you walking there, as you could be scolded for not being in the classroom during class hours. The professors room had a window overlooking the hallway, the blinds in the distance seemed to be closed, but when you got closer you noticed that they were not closed at all, so you peeked through the small strip that showed the inside of the room, and there you noticed his silhouette, you recognized him the moment you saw him.

You looked away from his computer and were perplexed for a few seconds before reacting again, because you never thought that one of your professors would be watching your videos, much less in a place like a university. You paid attention to your video and realized that it was the one you had dedicated to him, ‘thinking about my teacher while I cum’ Was it a coincidence? You didn't know it, but what you did know is that the heat quickly went down to your core. Again, your eyes moved to his arm, which even though it was with his back to you, you could see how he was making movements, letting you know that he was touching himself.

You didn't want to interrupt him, but your questions were also important, so you knocked on the door. You waited a few long seconds for him to open the door, and when your eyes met you didn't hesitate to scan him as well as possible in a few seconds, to see what you had done to him. The first thing you both connected were your eyes, which by some rays of light that came through the windows you could tell that his pupils were dilated, his characteristic pale cheeks were tinged with crimson red, his clothes were a little out of place but there you stopped, you didn't want to go any lower. Chances are, if you hadn't seen that scene, you wouldn't have paid the slightest bit of attention to what Sunghoon looked like now. "Miss Y/S" Damn, your last name came out so sexy coming out of her mouth.

"Do I interrupt something? I just wanted to know if I could ask you something about the exam." That question was misleading considering you'd seen everything. "Not at all, wanna come in?" you nodded. He opened the door wider and stepped aside to let you in, you saw that his computer was closed, but the same thought invaded your mind constantly, so you couldn't stop smiling. "Take a seat, please." He grabbed one of the chairs that was above the table and pulled it back so that you sit down, by inertia, you agreed to his gentlemanly behavior, followed by that he took a seat in front of you. In your hands was the big biology book that Professor Park made you read, grandly you only had to read the first 100 pages for this exam.

"I have a query about neurons." You started turning the pages of the book, getting to the section you needed. "You need to be more specific." that he sits in front of you was completely in vain, as he stood up again to get behind you. You felt his warmth emanating from his body when his hand landed on your shoulder, yet he didn't notice you, but what you saw in the book. "Unless you don't understand anything about neurons." You've found the neuron schema page you've been looking for. "I wanted to know how the chemical signals of neurons work."

"Okay, listen." He put his index finger on top of the outline. You didn't deny it, his finger was also attractive. How you wished it was inside you. "When the electrical signal reaches the axon terminal of a neuron, it stimulates the release of special chemicals. Do you remember what those are called?” "No." "Don't answer that fast, think about it." his minty breath slammed into your ear, sending shivers down your spine, and also automatically reminding you of the answer to the question Park asked you. "Neurotransmitters." he smiled sideways. "Well done. They then move in the synapses to the other neurons, and in that way it stimulates or perceives the..." At this point you just listened attentively as he explained it to you because his voice sounded sensual doing it and to his hand, of which you didn't think any wrong thoughts.

You had to repeat your way through the corridors, you couldn't go to sleep without first studying a whole concept and understanding everything, this was the case, you understood absolutely everything, but you wanted to pretend that you didn't to have an excuse to see him again and fantasize about him. You went to the professors room, the window blinds were open, but you didn't see anyone inside the room. You also went in to look for the schedule of teachers, looking for Professor Park's name. His schedule said he was now teaching in Course F.

Again you walked through the corridors, making sure no other teacher was in the same place as you, but you felt a hand on your shoulder as you climbed the stairs. "You can't be here, Miss Y/S" although it was a petty scolding, it was to the person you were looking for. "I was actually looking for you." When he looked down and saw that you were with the book again, he gave a slight laugh. "More doubts?" you nodded embarrassedly, he started looking around and gestured for you to follow him. You finished climbing the steps and to your surprise, you both didn't went the classroom that Sunghoon was assigned to be in now, you were in a completely empty one. He left his briefcase on top of the desk and sat down in front of it, legs spread and letting you have any imagination free.

"Don't you have a class to teach?" you walked over and put your book on the same desk on which he floored his briefcase, waiting for him to refuse to leave you alone now. "They can wait a few minutes, plus you can tell you're working hard, you deserve it." You grabbed a chair and sat down in front of him, but you didn't realize that you had put the chair too close, causing your legs to almost rub against each other. "Thank you." you expressed gratitude, no remorse that there are people losing class time because of a teacher who is wasting their time with you. "Your voice is known to me from somewhere." When you heard that, you couldn't help but stare at him, feeling the blood boil and expand throughout your body.

"What do you mean, sir?" By the way, you said the same nickname you used for the video he was watching the other day. Sunghoon covered his mouth to cough, but you sensed his nerves. "That doesn't matter, let's mov-" "Who do I remind you of?" I stare into your eyes letting a silence invade the area uncomfortably, he smiled and let out a faint cynical laugh, leaving you somewhat confused. Your face changed completely. "Do you think I didn't notice?" He was playing the innocent for all this time and you didn't realize it, he recognized you. "What are you talking about?" he interrupted. "SluttyMila, isn't you?" he mentioned your porn name, getting up from the chair and getting close, very close to you. You already knew that this moment could happen, but for some reason you kept trembling under his intimidating gaze. "I don't know what are you talking about." Your voice trembled. "Don't you know what I'm talking about? your voice, the mole on your collarbone, the shape of your body, the way you said ‘sir’... I've paid attention to the smallest detail."

He came closer to you spreading your legs with one of his, your chin was caught by his hands, in that instant you felt captured by him. "Every damn video naming me, isn't it? Do you wanna fuck your teacher?" he asked. You started to feel a little drunk, feeling the need to open up, to tell him all your sins. "Maybe, sir..." "You need to be more specific." It took you a while to answer. "Yes, sir." even though your gaze didn't lower, the metallic sound made you realize that he was unbuckling his belt. "Nice to meet you, SluttyMila."

"Nice to meet this side of you." You tried to lose the embarrassment by helping him with his pants, starting to pull down the fly to meet his boxers, decorated with an aura of wetness in those, clearly caused by you. "Can I help you with something?" the hand resting on your chin began to massage your cheek, then his eyes disconnected from you for a quick glance at the hallways. The two of you were on the top floor of the whole building, which is normally the one where there are fewer courses and fewer people wandering around, so you weren't going to waste the moment. He looked at you again. "Maybe I can help you with something." Your attention was focused on him as you heard him say that. You never really focused your attention on anything other than him, his hands, his shapely face, his moles, how his bulge is marked when he turns on his side... But you couldn't miss the opportunity to have him as close as you are now, you were able to access everything he tells you. "What is it?"

"Make money." His words fell on you like a bucket of cold water one by one. "Let's make a sex tape together."

Your doorbell rang, so you stopped dealing with the direction of the camera and went open the door. It was Saturday, that day you pleasantly accepted Professor Park's proposal and you decided to get together today to make your… video. You were dressed in a semi-open white shirt, a blue plaid mini skirt and a blue tie, and obviously the outfit had to show a lot of skin. When you opened the door and Sunghoon saw you dressed like this, he couldn't hold back leaving his mouth shut. "You're gonna catch flies." A professor coming to your house was already frowned upon, it would be much more frowned upon if people knew why they came to your house.

"You look magnificent." was all he could say. "Are you serious, or do you mean it because I'm half-naked?" you stepped aside, letting the man into your house. You were always careful about who you let into your house, something you learned from your mother is to always be on the lookout for the man's next move, but he was a special case, and it felt the same way when your hands started brushing against him while inspecting the house. "You really are very pretty, Miss T/S." he held the hand you tried to touch him with, planting a tender kiss on the back. "Or should I call you Mila?"

"Not yet, unless you want to start now." He clearly realized the attitude switch you had. At home you were very provocative, bold, you probably had the audacity to do many more things that you refused to do at school. "I wouldn't want to wait knowing that you tortured me all week, honey." He was right, during the whole week it was nothing more than passionate kisses and a rubbing of private parts, the rest was taken care of separately by each one at home. The steps you were taking took him further and further back, getting very close to the couch where you guys were going to record. He subconsciously fell on top of the couch, so you took advantage and sat on top of his lap.

"What do we have to do?" his mischievous hand planted itself on one of your thighs, caressing you. "Have sex, we're just going to be filmed. Be free to do whatever you want with my body." You began to unbutton your tie. "It's the least I can do to keep you waiting a long time." When he noticed, he noticed the black lingerie you were wearing underneath your white shirt, which was showing through.

"The camera is already recording, why don't you start?" you whispered in his ear. Your tie slipped over your shirt to end up on the floor, Sunghoon without a second thought caught your lips in a voracious way, but very similar to how he had done the previous times. You felt his sexual devotion when the hand resting on your thigh moved into your bare ass, as the skirt didn't quite cover it.

Even though your back was turned, you knew that the camera was capturing the scene. Sunghoon's hand encouraged you to start moving on top of him even though his bulge was already grown, causing some grunts from him. Your tongue caught all his senses, there's no place in Sunghoon's mouth that your tongue hasn't gone through, it was an avalanche of lust. "Turn around."

You listened to him, making your back touch his abdomen. Sunghoon's tongue didn't stop making contact with your body, he kept biting and sucking on your neck as if his life depended on it. His teeth were so white and shiny and his fangs sharp, now you knew how they felt on your skin. The hands you always dreamed of approached the buttons of your shirt, slowly unbuttoning them to leave you exposed with your black lingerie, which if you were really honest, if you saw from the camera you could see how your hard nipples through the fabric.

"Are you wearing this for me?" the shirt fell off your shoulders leaving you bare-chested, Professor Park brought his hand up to your mouth and had you suck on his index finger, resting it back on your already hard nipples. You were so focused on how his hands were working that you subconsciously forgot to answer his question. "I bet you do." your arms were handcuffed by his body, leaving him completely unable to do anything.

The hand that was on your hip went down, starting to fiddle with the hem of your miniskirt. "Touch me," you demanded desperately. "What did you say?" you felt a slight pain in your scalp, not realizing that Sunghoon's hand left your abdomen, to focus on exerting force on your hair. "Touch me, please," you repeated. "Where are your manners? Is that how your parents taught you to ask for-?" "Daddy, please." you interrupted. Your eyes stared at the camera in front of you, watching a smirk form on Sunghoon's face. "Good girl."

He freed your hair and automatically his hand slipped into your skirt, but instead of going up, he reached for the bottom, lifting the fabric. The panties were made of the same fabric as the bra, forcing Sunghoon to visualize your pelvis through the camera. Without thinking much about it, he put his hand under the fabric to start massaging you, sliding his fingers and surprised by the ease of how they moved. "We didn't do much, are you really that wet?" your mouth let out nothing but incoherent sounds that sweetened Sunghoon's ear. "Yeah..." That was all you could say.

He continued to rub against the outside of your pussy and then focused your attention on your clit, generating more sounds coming from your mouth. "Daddy... Just like that." You turned your head to see him, but you had no reaction when you felt his kisses back against your lips. Now it wasn't just the nipple where he massaged his finger, but the entirety of your breast.

The movements were becoming more constant and your legs were shaking like jelly. "Don't cum yet, honey." It was hard if you kept up that pace, plus you had already overheated yourself, there was no way to hold back an ejaculation. The finger that was on your clitoris happened to be inside you while her thumb replaced it.

He kept playing you and the rhythm was speeding up. As you continued to sit on his lap, his bulge rubbing against your lower part was present. You smiled, but if you didn't want to come you had to think fast, and the only thing that came out was: "Let me take care of you." He looked at you, enough to inspect your entire face, it took him a while to leave you but luckily for you, he agreed.

His grip eased, and when you tried to stand up your legs were weak, but you still managed to accommodate the camera. When you knelt down, his eyes connected, and without taking your eyes off him you began to unbuckle his belt, and then took it off and put it on top of the chair. Then you opened the fly to find his black boxers, unfortunately you couldn't notice the stains of precum, but you could notice the great relief that his length created. You pulled down his boxers and that came out excited to be captured by your mouth. "You’re so big," you whispered. You appreciated it for a while, pulling out some features. It was not very wide, it was extremely long, his pelvis was hairless, and his tip was baby pink colored, decorated with that viscous liquid that his excitement caused.

Tongue working on his dick and your hands using his balls as a squeeze. "Good girl, keep it up." I was cursing you inside for tease him so much, yet he felt like he was in heaven. "You're being so good to me." You felt a metallic noise from behind Sunghoon, you already knew what it was. 'The belt' was the first thing that came to mind. You didn't want to look at what he was doing, but when you least expected it, a burning in your left buttock startled you. But there was nothing to stop you now, it was still a pleasurable burning.

One of the things you were disgusted with was swallowing the cum, so when you started to feel him close, instead of using your mouth, you tucked him length between your bra-covered tits to masturbate him. You looked at the camera and bit your lip, living it and seeing it from another perspective, at the same time warmed you up enough to start rubbing yourself against the floor. Another lash accompanied by a kiss came as a surprise, causing both mouths to mingle your grunts.

In the middle of the kiss you felt a liquid spread over your breasts, although you were curious to see what it looked like, you couldn't tear yourself away from Sunghoon's soft lips, who refused to let you go. The belt? you didn't know where it was because Professor Park put his hands on your cheeks, making you understand that he wasn't holding anything, but that wasn't really of interest to you now.

Without separating yourself from the kiss you removed his dick from your breasts and climbed back into his lap, the kisses went down to your neck, where he had already left his marks, but you needed more of them. Below you was still his biggest friend, who to your surprise had become hard again. You moved at the same rate as your teacher's lips moved, causing the tip to brush against your entrance through your panties.

The hands that were on your cheeks, went towards your ass, massaging it in circles to be seen by the camera. You didn't really know if you could see the scene then, because you didn't even get up to set up the camera, but you needed to enjoy it to the fullest without having any worries.

No matter how hard you tried to reach him, his needy lips parted from you. You felt overwhelmed having his heavy gaze on you, your mouth wouldn't close from taking puffs of air, you felt so intimidated that you just lowered your head, trying to hide from him. "You look gorgeous breathless." Those words came into your system generating pleasure in your clit, which was rubbing against his penis. "Do I?" he chuckled. "Of course you do." You were going to have to cut these parts if you were actually going to upload the video. You wanted to have these clips just for you.

"Are you ready to feel even better?" Even with your head down, he could see your smile. One of her hands moved from your ass to your cunt, to drag the fabric that covered it and line up his pink tip at your entrance. "I'm ready, da- oh shit." buried himself inside you without warning. Without complaining, you started to get used to his length, which didn't take long to stimulate your g-spot. Your hands rested on his shoulders so as not to throw you off balance, raising and lowering your body so that finally the two of you are one. You seem to squeeze him so well that he let out his first moans.

"You’re squeezing me too much, doll." Sunghoon's hands grabbed your thighs to help you move, your skins clashing creating a rhythmic and constant noise, also being harmonized by Sunghoon's grunts and your moans. "Fuck my pussy just li-fuck." you felt just like all the videos you dedicated to him multiplied by a thousand, really his dick was better than any thought, than any fucking sex toy, than any finger fucking session you could ever have.

You couldn't think coherently because of the wonders his cock was doing inside you. You rested your head on the hand resting on Sunghoon's shoulder, holding back the fact that you were close, squeezing Sunghoon's dick more than you should, who, by the way, knew a lot about body language and had noticed. "C’mon slut, you can take it a while longer." The movements quickened and your moans increased in volume without stunning Sunghoon, instead he enjoyed them more than any other female moan. His thrusts got harder and harder, you squeezed him harder, and the patience Park had for you was over.

Your body was quite small compared to his, so it was easy for him to manipulate it. You didn't understand at what point you were left on all fours, motionless by your arms chained by Sunghoon's and your hunched back. Your moans came out easily in this position, you felt that the way he touched your sweet spot was different.

You turned your head to see the camera, but it was impossible with your hairs covering your face, however through them you could see the silhouette of Sunghoon making you his property. Ever since you started college you've been longing for this moment. Sunghoon was your biology teacher every year since you started college, you prayed day and night that the following year you would have him back as a teacher, no sooner said than done, the universe listened to you and gave you the luxury of seeing him every week. You couldn't help but let out a moan.

Sunghoon let go of your arms and with his buried your head in the soft fabric of the couch, hiding you and drowning out your moans. You chewed on the cloth trying to avoid making too much noise, but you were confused by not feeling the same pace as before. "Bitches that don't moan don't deserve dick, do they?" As much as his hand pressed against your head, his deep voice managed to convince you to let go of the fabric that was between your teeth, this caused Park to speed up again, making you squirm.

"Gonna fill up this cunt so bad." His free hand squeezed your ass, while the other let go of your hair's grip. "You are my own little porn star, don't you?" you nodded, moaning faintly 'yes', which stupidly came out of your mouth. "This ain’t gonna be the last time babe." His rhythm wasn't the same as before, but when he put it in he made sure that its tip rubs against your g-spot and his pelvis makes that noise of clashing against your ass. "Daddy..." you looked back over your shoulders and saw that Sunghoon had the camera in his hands, recording the scene from his perspective. You really didn't feel like uploading that video just on the whim of being the only one who owns it. "I'm gonna cum soon."

His hand gave you red marks on your ass, which would soon turn into bruises. Your weak arms stretched out on either side of the couch, rolling back your eyes while Sunghoon was inside you. He tried to hold the camera properly but it was impossible to record straight as he twisted inside you. "Make me cum," he said in a whisper, but enough so that it can be heard clearly in the video. "Make me fucking cum, c'mo-fuck," he repeated, causing you to finally untie your knot and come without warning, tightening its length. He gave a few more thrusts, and along with a long groan, painted your walls white. "Fuck.."

He gave a few too many thrusts and then pulled his penis out of you. The camera went in the direction of your cunt, which was dripping the cum that Park had pumped inside you, he opened it a little wider so that he had a better view, causing a few drops of his own liquid to fall on top of the fabric of the couch.

He cut the recording, it was the moment when the heat was over to start the aftercare section. "You were amazing." You kept turning your back on him, so he started planting kisses on your bare shoulders. "You don't need to study anymore."

“What?”

“You passed the exam.”

– taglist ₊ ˖ ་. @nxzz-skz @weyukinluv @amortenha @hoons-gf @luvyev @moonshoon @itgirlalisaa @tobiosbbyghorl @soobinzzwallet @novajady @pprodsuga @taehyunsfavmoa @pnkified @tasnim10 @sparklovespink @kgneptun @imyourjoy0 @ilvho06 @ilvho06 @capri-cuntz @kimseungminswifey @v3lv3tsin @enhasnuggles @sunoo-dior @ineedsomezzz @saintriots @japieeey

– gif credits ₊ ˖ ་. @/enteez

#enhypen #enhypen fic #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #kpop #enhypen sunghoon #smut #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon fic #park sunghoon #sunghoon park #sunghoon #sunghoon enhypen #sunghoon smut

[mitchtheficus]

Of course we're gonna be on your side. We've got your back, man. No matter what. Hey, there's not gonna be any bed in that ring so don't worry about it!

#adam page #hangman page #john silver #alex reynolds #aew #being the elite #bte #adam cole #i wanted to gif it tooooo #mystuff #mypagegifs #just realized i uploaded this without one of the gifs in it :p

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

This is gonna be a flashback chapter. How our babies met because I remember a few people had forgotten. Had to have one of these eventually, right?

Part 21: Introduction

Should I download Tinder?

Glee plays from the firestick, the scene where they're all walking and singing How Will I Know.

I should.

Laying cozied into the couch in a faded t'shirt with the tiniest pink shorts, your head rests on the butt cushion and your feet dangle over the arm as you hold your phone up in the air over your face.

"How will I know?.. How will I knoow..," you mumble along with the crew. You've heard the Glee version of this Whitney classic at least 8 times.

No, but what if I do and someone recognizes me? Someone I work with? What if my family is on Tinder? I'd die.

You put the phone down on your belly and pick up your apple juice from the coffee table, doing a sit up to sip.

Mm. You wipe your mouth nearly spilling. But if they're on there too then they shouldn't comment on what I'm doing, right? We'd ignore each other's presence and continue like ships passing in the night. So technically I should be able to download this app with no blowback.

Picking the phone up, you hit download and open the app. It immediately asks for your information and won't let you skip. Not even your location. You fall back down to your back raising the phone up again.

But what if someone's a serial killer?Would they look for me? No, that won't happen and I could tell if they were psychotic..

Tapping the download button, you go through the steps to set up an account including giving them access to your location and posting a headshot from a selfie. Scrolling through your gallery for more decent pics to post, you decide one's enough and upload a full body photo so that whoever meets you will know who they're meeting, no surprises.

Inputting your information, you decide to write into your blurb that you're looking for some awesome friends, specifically a movie buddy. In reality, the activity doesn't matter you just crave human attention and closeness. Any decent, polite, nice, smart, funny, left wing, hopefully attractive, young, black human.. possibly male.. will do. Not that you're picky. In the meantime, you swipe right on everyone black nearby, men and women. Somebody's gotta respond. Someone sane who wants to meet. Shockingly there are a lot of pretty people. Unfortunately the app only gives you one super like.. a blue star which you decide to save.

Giddily you head over to your match tab and see four matches. Drew P seems nice. Ashley J looks stylish. G Papa looks like he lives in a Freaknik video. Pussy Hunter is just nasty. Your nose twitches as you shamefully start conversations with all four. When neither responds right away you return to swiping and a notification says you've been super liked, but you can't access who super liked without paying money. You're not doing that so you just go back to the bios and swipe right until you get a reply.

Wyd, Pussy Hunter writes.

Bored, watching movies. You?

You gotta fat ass

Um. Thanks?

Netflix and chill?🙈

Netflix and Netflix. We can talk and hang out..

So no chill

No sex, but we can hang out and do something else

After 5 minutes, you realize he's not going to write you back. You start to swipe again on pictures, left for the whites and weirdos. Right for the black people.

Your finger hovers in the air as you gasp lightly at the thirst trap provided by a man self-identified as Erik. It deserves another sip of apple juice. You gulp it down from your cup. "Jesus.." You can't even see his face, because it's all BODY, but you can tell by the picture exactly what he's on Tinder for. Same m.o. as Pussy Hunter.

Erik S, 28

Fucc around and find out

Good Lord.. those shorts are yet holding on, you stare as if they'll slip down further by you willing them to. You swipe right. Your eyes widen as the app alerts you with a blue star meaning... He super liked your profile.

"NO," you gasp wide eyed at the phone ready to chuck it at the wall. Switching to the messages, there's a new one.. from him.. and you know what it's about. "I need some tea."

---

Erik lazed around his house bumping Schoolboy Q, clad in a white terry cloth bathrobe with a short glass of iced Ciroc and Lemonade in his hand. Dancing, he exfoliated his face with his spin brush, trimmed his mustache and beard, shaped himself up, and moisturized his locs and facial hair. The lil lip scrub he'd gotten as a gift from Cierra, he'd initially fought her on because it smelled like peaches but he liked how soft it made his lips. They even tasted good. He licked his lips for the umpteenth time tasting sugar. They tasted like Cierra.

Speaking of sugar, he looked at his phone wondering why his hoes ain't called. Then again, they could've. He wasn't near the phone all day. Checking the iPhone on the charging dock he saw that he had a missed call.. from Cierra.

Checking the time she called, he figured that was back when he was cleaning his guns and checking the parts. He'd already cleaned and sharpened his knives. He'd checked his security cameras. He felt good. Having no major responsibility and no place to be.

Outside of the missed call he had three new nudes and a video sitting in his messages to watch and record himself masturbating to. He was looking forward to doing that especially since Rell hadn't called with no bullshit local cases. Erik had stated he ain't want no hits near his temporary home.. for a year, he wanted peace. One damn year. But here he was still racking basic skills for pennies. "Chump change is still change," Rell's voice played in his ear. "You don't wanna get rusty. Gotta keep your skills sharp."

Erik had done his share of moving around, racking up international kills and earning the nickname Killmonger. But for a little while, he wanted to settle down in one concealed location where no one knew where he lived, who the fuck he was, or where he was coming or going. He wanted the illusion of peace and normality for a year at least. As much money as he had, he figured he could afford to stay in one place for that long if he was careful.

Only two people knew where he lived and that was Rell and Swift. They knew not to come over. Not even the previous owners of the house knew he was there.. because he'd made them an anonymous offer, killed them and moved in a few days after they'd sold it to him for cash. Needless to say he took all that money back.

He dialed Cierra, roaming to his bedroom to collapse over the bed as the phone rung. "Sup Ci?"

"Master," she whimpered, the desperation in her voice telling him she needed release. She'd been working too long through the past week and needed Master to come take control for a few hours. He could picture her on her knees, already in puppy space. She knew exactly how he liked her to wait for him.

"Yes, Ci. You need me to come for a scene?"

"Rrrrr," she growled. "Arf arf!"

"My bad. Lil Bitch."

"I gotta go to Target and see my sister," but come through later. I don't care how late just call up."

"Your sister? The one you met on Facebook?"

"Yeah, her! She live like an hour away. I'm a link with her and put her on Tinder! Get her a man to pop that back out," she giggles.

"You know I don't mind a two for one," Erik teased knowing she wouldn't go for it. He liked to mess with her anyway.

"Not with my damn sister, I'm not that nasty. A white girl can have it,"

"Damn crush my dream."

"Anyway!"

"Aight, I'm a let you go." Hanging up, he sat up and went to his closet pulling a colorful glass bong he'd gotten from a nigga he once knew in the military. Bruce Everett, white boy. Cool nigga... Too bad he shot hisself with his own gun. Sighing, Erik shook his head and went to the bathroom to fill it with water and headed back to pull his chrome grinder from his drawer along with a screen, hempwick, and a nug of Dr. Greenthumb's Emdog OG, grinding it down to pack the bowl making it fluff up.

"Perfect," he whispered lighting the bong with the hempwick. He lit the edges of the weed going around in a circle for an even and smooth burn as he stood taking a good long hit. "Shit," he exhaled releasing the smoke. I love bongs.

He looked and the bowl was empty as he'd expected. One hit's all you need when you do it right.

"Tinder...," he played in his mind. He already had a fetlife which was how he'd found his subs. Tinder was something different though. He was curious.

Downloading the app on the phone used almost solely for contact with subs, he went through the process of setting up an account, hesitating to put his info. It was general enough and the shit that was too specific, he could just lie. Still, he wouldn't upload his face.

So all I gotta do is swipe and see everyone in the area, he mused looking at all the faces.

"No.. No.. Nope.. Facially challenged.. The fuck is that?.. Hell nah.. Yes.. Yes.. She cute.. Hell nah.. Yes... No..," he paused looking a little closer at the screen. "Hello... Damn."

Out of curiosity he clicked on the profile. "That ass tho!"

He smirked hitting his super like.

"Shid... You can get the blue like.. Whatever the fuck that mean.." He stared at the picture. She had a juicy looking aro with thick black curls, brown skin, bright almond eyes, and enough ass to feed the needy for months. "Shit, if I was on a deserted island with coconuts and that ass.. that's enough meat for a damn.. shidd.." He chuckled. "Fuck is a super like? I super like yo ass meat..," he chuckled again falling back on his bed. "It mean I'm a break yo shit in thirds and fuck the pieces," he coughed, over his own bullshit.

---

Jumping up, you speedwalk into your kitchen and quickly heat some water in a pot, pulling a red mug and a bag of chamomile and a bag of lemon balm to mix with sugar. Combining it all, you take a sip and stand there staring at the wall before taking it with you back to the couch. "Okay," you sigh picking up the phone to open the Tinder message thread.

Cum talk to me, he says. You stare at the words. Wow, this is so cringy you don't know how to respond. You sit the phone back down taking another sip. You think about ignoring him, but you keep touching the phone, coming back to the message and staring.

Hey, you finally type hesitating at the simplicity before sending.

How are you tonight ? Why you up ?

Bored, lonely, contemplating my existence over Glee and wondering why my high school years were never that damn musical. You sip your tea.

Having a tv party with just lil ol' me. Why are you up?

The fuck kinda life you living. You need me to cum spice shit up for you? 👀

You think you that spicy? 👀

You wanna taste me and see?

Jeez. You flip back to the faceless picture of his body. Lord have mercy.

Don't play with a real one I'll show the fuck up real shit, he writes.

Internally you're screaming. He really thinks you're about to have sex with him. "I can't, oh my god," you sigh bouncing your knee. You hesitate before responding.

You can come, but bring food.

Hell yeah. Then you can be dessert. 😈

What? You turn the screen off and grab your head, your elbows on your knees.

What am I doing. Y/N what are you doing.

No sex nigga, you type before taking it back and staring at the screen perplexed. If you say that, he won't message you back.. If you don't say it, he'll be expecting to get some! You still want him to come through though even if he leaves because you're bored. You just want a little company for a little bit.

Maybe you should get a cat..

Your leg shakes unsure of how to respond and you take another sip of the hot tea mix feeling anything but calm.

Without further delay you just drop your address and hope for the best, wondering if you just signed off on your own murder. Maybe I should've told him to meet me somewhere else in the daytime.

Washing your apple juice cup, you put it away and then throw on some black leggings and rainbow fuzzy socks not wanting to open the door in pink bootyshorts adding onto the wrong message you'd already sent him. You also put a kitchen knife under the sofa cushion for easy access just in case.

40 minutes. You like wings?

Parmesan

🤢 Love yourself, sis. I'm getting a mix.

Oh I see you Mr. Petty Labelle, you smile getting a taste of his personality.

Yep. Finna get some of Ms. Petty's pie 

Uh uh, you smirk.

We nuh ave dat

That right? Guess I'll see for myself when I pull up 👅

He's a whole fool. You set the phone down smiling at the tv. Meanwhile you watch another episode.. actually watching it this time.

Knock knock, he messages and you see it having kept the thread up just in case he had an issue.  Jumping up, you snatch your phone and take a deep breath to steady your nerves. This is the first time you've ever done something like this and you hope it doesn't go badly.

Who's there, you jest messaging back right before you unlock your multiple locks and crack the door. Peeping out, you shut the door automatically throwing your body against it, holding your breath. He's huge! You didn't even look up, you just saw all that muscle like Kangaroo Jack. And why was he all up on the door?!

"Word? You must not want these wings then," he says through the door. You hear plastic rattling dramatically. "That's aight I don't mind eating em by myself."

You crack the door again, peeping out. You hadn't even seen the plastic bag hanging from his hand, you'd shut him out so fast. You reach out to grab it and he pulls it back.

"Aht! This how you treat guests? Door in the face? Snatching bags?" Your eyes roam from his hard chest to the broadness of his shoulder, resting on the sleeve of his charcoal grey Chicago Bulls shirt. Those biceps.

"Look at you undressing me in your mind already. Go ahead, you can touch me," he adds holding his arm forward as if reading your mind.  He talks a lot.

You snatch the bag and put it behind your back a bit, opening the door. Then you look up and your kitty jumps. It's the devil himself. You try to control your surprise but between his sharp narrow chestnut eyes that smirk down, his sculpted nose, and his full pouting lips, you don't know if you want to kiss him, bite him, or climb him. You wanna do all three and more right in the hall.. up against the wall. His hair too, it's a mess of semi-thick locks that point everywhere like Coolio. It's his everything really..

"Y/N.."

Omg. It sounds so good coming from him. This isn't fair.

"Aye..," he waves.

"Hm," you sigh staring at his face.

"You gone let me in?"

"Huh? Oh." You step back quickly and scan him from head to toe as he steps across the threshold. Bulls shirt, black track pants, black sneakers. His shoes are ugly though, the back heel juts out too far. Balenciaga is written in white. Oh.

You look up and see he's looking you up and down too. Oop. Leading the way you take him to the living room and he settles on the couch, his develish eyes on yours. His knees spread wide as he leans back, hips forward.

Silently screaming, you look away and sit the plastic food bag on the table.

You can feel him staring. The air is full of raunchy expectation and you can't say you blame him. You practically encouraged it on the phone.

"You want something to drink," you smile in friendly attempt, risking a glance and it's just as you thought.

"You know exactly what I want."

"To DRINK," you exphasize, ignoring the thump of your heart in your nana as his eyes roll over your hips.

"Mmm... You got Henny?"

"I have apple juice, tea, water.."

"Ciroc?"

Your face screws, Didnt I just-- "I don't drink.."

"Ever?"

You shake your head.

"Damn, Apple Juice."

Taking your sweet time to pour his juice and refill your tea, you re-enter the living room as the Glee cast kicks off another song that he mutes.

"Here ya go."

You give him his cup and feel the chill in your spine as his fingertips brush yours. Unmuting the tv, you sit on the opposite side of the couch, legs crossed, tense and unsure of what to say to him now that he's there.

"You look uncomfortable."

"Me? I'm fine. I was just marathoning Glee before you came," you say handing him the remote, "I've already seen it though."

He hands the remote back. "You seen Menace II Society?"

"I've heard the title!"

"Well pull it up, let's watch it."

Thank God. That's something easy. You fumble through buttons and he starts opening the food as you set up the movie.

---

"Ooh Laurenz Tate he so fine," she smiled sitting up as the movie started. She would be into his ass. Erik rolled his eyes. Wait for it.

"I hate when they do that," she mumbled in response to the Asian woman following them around the store.

"Yeah," he agreed with swig of the juice looking from the tv to her face, watching her reaction. Wait for it.

"Why don't you give my homeboy his change," O-Dog says before walking to the door. "I feel sorry for your mother," the store owner snubs.

Bitch, don't talk about my mama. That part always pissed Erik off.

"What you say about my mama? You feel sorry for who?!" O-Dog shouts. "I don't want any trouble, just get out," the shopowner shouts, backtracking like the bitch nigga he is.

Fuck that, shoot his bitchass, Erik barked in his head. POP. POP POP. POP. POP. There you go! He shot the wife too, meanwhile, the princess jumped in her seat, absorbed in the felony she just observed on screen. Double-homicide.

"He shouldn't have shot them.. Bruh, now the cops gone be looking for him and his friend wasn't even in it but now he's an accomplice."

"You telling me you wouldn't have shot a nigga talkin shit on your mama?" Erik leaned into her space, curious, but she ain't seem to notice.

"No, 'cause they're rude, ugly, and racist but still. You can't kill without consequences."

Erik steeled. She wasn't wrong.

"I'd have shot his ass too," he admitted watching her. She didn't seem to agree. "Should've kept his mouth off his family."

"You close to your family," she asked suddenly.

"Yeah," he lied knowing his people were dead. "...You mind if I get more juice," he pointed to his cup and she took it refilling it.

Fifteen minutes into the movie, she noticed her wing choice wasn't in the selection and Erik kept a poker face having wondered when she'd realize. He'd already started on the barbecue.

"Where's my parmesan," she frowned looking in the boxes.

"They ain't have it," he lied. "Ran out."

"You're such a liar. Now what am I gonna eat," she pouted to his humor.

"Eat the carribean jerk," he nudged the box to her. She eyed it and he felt like a wolf trapping a rabbit, the wings being the bait.

"I ask you for one thing."

"Yeah and? I wasn't finna buy that shit," he chuckled grabbing a jerk wing and biting it, closing his eyes and humming as he chewed to entice her. When he peeked, she was watching his mouth out the corner of her eye as he licked spicy sauce off his thumb. Sliding down in the cushion, she crossed her arms and raised a knee with her fuzzy foot on the couch. Such a damn brat. Ol' hungry ass.

He started to flex the length of his tongue since she was looking but decided against it. He couldn't be too aggressive or she'd spook and he wouldn't get no ass. Why he cared, he couldn't put a finger on other than the fact that she'd become a challenge. This girl would not let him anywhere near her. She was very shy considering she was down for a one night stand. I'm getting the draws, he promised himself right then. How? He just had to make her come to him.

Her nose wrinkled as she picked up a jerk wing, rotating it.

"Girl eat the wing, this ain't rocket science," he fussed watching her bite it.

"It's better than parmesan?" Lie, he dared watching her closely.

She took another bite.. then she attacked the wing and when she licked her fingers, he looked away grabbing another wing and swig of his juice.

"OKAY. SHUT UP." She grabbed another wing chewing through it as he coughed in his elbow hiding his laugh.

"I didn't say anything," he croaked shrugging her off.

"But you smiling and I can hear you thinking."

He couldn't hide the fat grin plastered on his face though he'd tried by looking away. "How you hear me thinking," he squinted watching her collect bones.

"Because I do, you're loud," she stressed.

"How I'm l-"

"SHH!! I'm tryna hear," she whispered. He shook his head watching the corner of her mouth lift and they watched the movie in silence until she reached for another wing and all the jerk were gone. He pushed her another box.

"You all the way over there. Come sit next to me."

"I'm not that far."

"You are. I promise I won't bite you.."

Her eyes rolled.

"Not unless you into that shit," he added patting the cushion beside him. She lifted, barely moving. "You scared?"

"What you mean?" She looked nervous all of a sudden looking anxiously in his eyes. This was gonna be a tough wall to break.

He patted the cushion again, waiting, and she finally moved in closer filling the empty seat beside him. He determined right then not to touch her but to get as close as possible maintaining proximity to get her used to his presence. Draping an arm over the couch behind her, he observed silently as she sat tense for the the next five minutes before relaxing. He had his work cutout.

@soufcakmistress @itsiesha @ju5tp34chy @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @blackpantherimagines @blackpinup22 @muse-of-mbaku @goddessofthundathighs @panthergoddessbast @thadelightfulone @misspooh @marvelmaree @youreadthatright @forbeautyandlife @theunsweetenedtruth @bidibidibombaclaat @myboyfriendgiriboy @dameshaemonique @hidden-treasures21 @mysidefanting @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @syndrlla97 @winteroflife @thotyana-in-this-hoe   @texasbama @gingerylimonte @princessstevens   @magic-madness-heavensin @wawakanda-btch @wakanda-inspired @blackgirloneshots @thegucciwaffle @thiccdaddy-mbaku @purplehairgawdess @indigoxsummers @cccccx1   @dynastylnoire @iamrheaspeaks @blowmymbackout @they-call-me-le @theblulife @raysunshine78 @sheisexcellent-blog

#original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik stevens #erik killmonger fanfiction #erik stevens au #black panther killmonger #black panther fanfiction #house rules

[capriccio-con-espressione]

Hotspot Pt.1

Genre: Smut 

Word Count: 1331

Warning: Sub!Yangyang, Dom!Reader, Femdom, Degradation, Profanity, Public humiliation, Edging, Orgasm denial, Spanking, Yangyang's lame Earth sandwich joke

A/N: 

1. Yangyang’s name (揚) has the same pronunciation as “lamb/sheep” (羊) in Mandarin, so y’all would see the word-fuck (X) word-play (O) on this often throughout the fic

2. Been planning to re-upload this fic from my old deleted acc but wanted to extend it and make some changes, yet was clueless before, but then I eventually got inspired, so I decided to release it as part one of something bigger, thanks to this anon for providing me with ideas for part two, and thanks to @wildernessuntothemselves​ for forcing (X) suggesting (O) me to collect the XiaoHenYang aka her TMTM trio

3. It’s almost Xiaojun’s birthday yet I posted Yangyang content, I’m sorry my lovely prince. Anyone who’s thirsty for him can read my month-old upload here

   “Goddamn-f-fuck, please!” Yangyang swears in utter desperation as you suddenly withdraw your hand from his cock, denying his first orgasm. He shifts in the chair in an attempt to grab you, but futile since his hands are tied behind it, as he’s kneeling on the seat facing backward with his ass pushed out, while his legs are forced open wide since both his thighs are secured to the armrests of the chair as well, rendering him into a compromising position.

  “Brats like you don’t deserve to cum.” You state icily before thrashing his sensitive rear with the paddle. "You never want to miss a chance to annoy me with all that endless fussing, don't you?"

  "I don't deserve this punishment with just that Earth sandwich joke...ahh stopppp…" 

  "That lame joke is not the point, you brat." You hiss, tugging his hair, as Yangyang's hard-on jolts at the sudden sensation of pain. "Remember how awfully much you snickered about making a sandwich with my pussy around your dick hmm? Giving me that stupid devilish grin whenever you have one for meals? Even shamelessly bragging about it in front of other members to embarrass the hell out of me? You are just a pathetic horny little lamb…"

  "C-c'mon, it's not that b-bad when you actually like my teasing..." Yangyang gasps in between your relentless spanks in arousal, as you can tell that his second orgasm is nearing.

  "Oh? How you like this sandwich with my hand then?" You smirk as you wrap your hand around his cock again, fingers irregular dancing on the tip yet not pumping him.

  "Ahh-L-like it! Just let me cum goddamn it!" Yangyang's whole body tenses up and curls up as he can't handle the teasing anymore.

  "That's not how you ask for things, bad little lamb." You chastise while giving a slap on his angry red cock, earning a yelp from him.

  “...P-please Mistress let me cum…” Yangyang begs, his proud form finally breaking down.

  “Good try, but not quite.” You smirk, before resuming his spanking again.

  “Ahhh Mistress I’ll be a good little lamb for you...now p-please let me cum…” Yangyang’s voice falters at the denial of his second orgasm.

  “That’s my cute little lamb…” You praise as you peck his now teary cheek, before finally granting him release with your hand, as he lets out a loud moan upon climaxing. 

  “Now you know you shouldn’t be bragging about sandwiches too often.” You embrace Yangyang in your arm while soothing his red flesh with the other, calming the sobbing boy down.

  “You should be more kind to me since you already sin too much torturing me…” Yangyang gazes into you as he forms a cheeky pout, the way how he quickly returns to his usual mischievous self surprising you a little.

  "I am already showing you enough kindness by letting you cum without much teasing." You sneer as you wipe the white tendrils off Yangyang’s gradually limping cock and your hand.

  "Without much teasing? Says someone who literally edged me twice, so fucking bossy." Yangyang retorts while letting out a sigh of relief as you untied his hands behind the chair.

  "I am sure you can take much more than that, usually I would edge you for hours until your bratty mouth can't talk back to me anymore." You imply your annoyance for his endless ripostes, since it's always difficult for your boyfriend to just be grateful for his orgasms instead of being cheeky.

  "Nah you are just sadistic as hell. You are just one cruel cougar who loves my suffering too much." Oblivious of your hint for him to behave, your boyfriend still continues his complaints, redressing himself while smirking at you.

  "Cheeky boys deserve to be disciplined with cruelty, and somehow you like it too much, and love to ask for more by being a nuisance, don't you, my little painslut?" You reply slyly, another punishment for this ungrateful boy beginning to form. 

  "Now that your butt cheeks are rosy hot spots…” You say thoughtfully as you rub his ass teasingly. “...I am gonna give you the taste of real embarrassing punishment. Now give me your phone."

  Yangyang reluctantly hands you his phone. "What for?"

  "Unlock it."

  "No!"

  "Just obey me you brat." You hiss while tugging his hair, forcing him to comply with a wince.

  "Don't worry, I am not gonna post something weird on social media." You reassure him while opening up settings on his phone. "But, everyone will know someone has been a slutty hotspot in heat while connecting to wifi…" You triumphantly smirk as you click "Save" after changing his SSID.

  "'Mistress’ Slutty Lil 🐑🐑'? Hell no that's embarrassing!!" He snatches back his phone in an attempt to undo your act of mischief.

  "Do not ever try to change it." You demand sternly, covering his screen with your palm. "If I catch you disobey me, you will get punished even harder. Understand, Mistress’ slutty little lamb?"

  "Alright…" Yangyang sighs and facepalms, already internally freaking out about how his members will react upon seeing this.

  You smirk in delight as you both leave your makeshift playroom, which is a storage room, to catch up on your normal lives. Yangyang returns to his members as you meet up with other staff to participate in a meeting discussing details of upcoming shootings for the next project.

  Yangyang slouches back to his room but gets caught up with Lucas before he can retreat behind the door.

  "Yo bro, care to explain this?" Lucas holds his screen in front of the younger's face, grinning so knowingly that Yangyang has to fight back every urge to punch him in the face.

  "See no evil." He weakly protests, hoping not to embarrass himself even further, and shuts the door in Lucas' face.

  Thinking he has escaped the ordeal, he doesn't realize how bad things can get until he opens up the WayV group chat. Hendery has posted a screenshot of all the WiFi SSIDs his phone detected and circled the obvious questionable one, and all the other members reacted with either stickers with laughing expressions or words like "Our naughty 🐑  has finally got the taste of his medicine!" or "Y/N'S REALLY MAD LMAO", all of their mockings make Yangyang wants to dig a hole and bury himself in it.

  Red with both embarrassment and resentment, he decides to defy you as his devilish side begins to awake. Since he's never the type to listen well to anyone, then why should he this time? Besides, he feels his body begins to heat up with a familiar tingle again as he thinks about all the pain and degrading words that will be inflicted on him after you find out about his rebel, as he brazenly invites more with more provocative and insolent remarks, then eventually feeling himself dissolving into ascending sting and humiliation that turn into euphoric pleasure soon afterwards…

  Licking his lips at the indecent thoughts, he alters the SSID and waits impatiently for your discovery.

  Ten minutes later, he receives a screenshot from you as well as an angered message from you. "'Mistress’ bossy af 👿'? You fucking brat."

  "Just telling the truth 🤷"

  "You are originally getting 20 paddles on your bare ass, now it's 40."

  "Shouldn't you focus on your meeting first?"

  "IDGAF now. Change it to 'Fuck Lil Slutty🐑  Pls😩' in under a minute or you're getting 80."

  80 spanks? Yangyang ponders. Tho being a painslut he is, he still needs to make sure that he can function normally tomorrow to avoid more unwanted attention. Sighing, he decides to give in to you and finally obeys.

  Sliding off nearly every notification from the uproar in his group chat for this even more humiliating SSID, he feels unexpectedly even more exhilarated at your praising messages that concludes with a specific time and place to meet up for the main course of punishment that he both somewhat fears but also craves.

#nct #wayv #nct smut #wayv smut #yangyang #yangyang smut #liu yangyang #sub!nct #sub!wayv #sub!yangyang #sub!nct smut #sub!wayv smut #hotspot #my writings #dom!reader #wayv imagines #nct imagines

[murfeelee]

April! Weekend! Replies!

It’s finally Springtime~!

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TW3 Replies

headspacedad replied to your post “The Mists of Avalon CAPTIONS AS TEXT - (Yennefer)...”

beautiful!  but I just HAVE to crack the joke that he’s walking on water because its Sims 3 and - sometimes they just do that

Yoooooo! WHERE. IS. THE. LIE.

In that old TW3 Barrels post I got Geralt to walk on water ACCIDENTALLY; I was like WTF is going on, and I had to scramble to take pics! But I quickly realized it was a routing bug, BECAUSE TS3. 🤦 

In my Avalon post, though, I just used OMSPs and MOO with poses. But I was thinking about my Barrels post the entire time! XD

declaration-of-dramas replied to your post “The Mists of Avalon CAPTIONS AS TEXT - (Yennefer)...”

Great job on the rowing gifs - looks like a lot of work put in! I can’t believe how much that looks like him! Great pics x

Those effing boats have been haunting me for THREE YEARS, since the last time I tried (and failed) to make them. But I finally bit the bullet and got back around to them, and this time figured it out, woooo!

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C2077 Replies

joojconverts replied to your post “C2077 Wraiths INSP Collection”

yes.

Thanks for liking it!

cavernsofdarkness replied to your post “C2077 Wraiths INSP Collection”

🙌🏾 *bows down to Murf* you always come through! Now I just need to teach myself to convert clothes (I had a meltdown the last time I tried 😀) because it’s so annoying that ts4 has all the good cyberpunk/techwear stuff 🙃

I don’t have a lot of time to sim lately, but I’ve slowly but surely been trying to pull together a nice big set of cyberpunk CAS CC dump for the fellas.

The struggle is real though--I’ve never been that good with CAS CC, and I hate these high AF poly meshes, trying to lower them to more optimized polys without ruining the whole thing. TS4′s the same way--all the cool CC is like 40k+ for no effing reason. 50k for a tank top? REALLY? 🙄

*sigh* But yeah, keep staying tuned for more! The goal is to upload at least one C2077 set every month--I almost forgot to post in March, which is why it came so late. :P

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Happy Simming!

#replies #the witcher 3 #sims 3 cyberpunk

[toutallyahoe]

Things We Need More ~ Gavin Reed (DBH)

Requested By: --

A/N: how long have I not touched dbh again? far too long apparently.

fun fact? this chapter is around seven months in my damn drafts.

and this is also my first uploaded one shot for this asshole? asdfghjjkl

anyways, here's something nice because a certain darling of mine needs something for their exams

Also, he may be an asshole but he's our asshole

─────────────────

More: warm hugs

The brunet detective let out a grunt as he flopped himself on the couch, grabbing some of the couch's cushions and groaned on it to muffle the sound while his lover merely looked at him with amused [Eye color] eyes. Arms crossed as he rosed a brow at the brunet male who just laid there.

"Okay, what happened now?" The [Hair color] haired man had asked as he uncrossed his arms and walked towards his brunet lover who let out another groan.

"Robbers... attack... child... t-that's what happened..." Gavin had said as he took the cushion away from his face and placed it on his stomach and stared blankly at the ceiling as [Hair color] haired man had sat beside the brunet's legs.

"And?" Gavin grumbled out some curses as he maneuvered himself to face his lover, rolling his eyes as he did. The brunet had stayed quiet for a bit as his mind went back to what had happened hours ago. Gavin just blankly stare at his lover who's amusement slowly diminish. After awhile of not getting an answer, [Name]'s lips formed into a frown as he looked at Gavin with worried [Eye color] eyes.

"Gavin?" [Name] softly called the brunet who slowly began to shake. Sitting up as his hands instantly found themselves on his face as he began to explain.

"There was so much fucking blood..." The brunet detective had quietly muttered to himself as he then continued. "S-so much fucking b-blood..." Gavin had muttered. [Name] furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at his lover confused and worried. He couldn't understand Gavin's quiet mumblings and he was curious on why his brunet lover started to act this way.

"What? Gavin I can't hear you." The [Hair color] haired had said as Gavin began to quietly mutter again which the male, once again, did not hear. "Gavin, please I need you to speak up a bit louder."

Again, the brunet merely let out quiet mumblings to himself which frankly, slowly made the [Hair color] haired man was a bit annoyed. What was Gavin so glum about? Did Hank piss him off again?

Sighing, [Name] tried again. "Gavin, can't you speak lo--"

"THERE WAS SO MUCH FUCKING BLOOD OKAY?!?"

The brunet had snapped as he glared at his [Hair color] haired lover who seemed to be surprised from his outburst. Despite the guilt he felt on it, Gavin couldn't stop himself but let out all the pent up emotions of the day take over his thinking. "There was a fucking robbery and they left nothing but a fucking corpse of a fourteen year old boy with a bullet wound in his fucking head and a four year old girl who's skull was fucking cracked open!" Gavin had yelled as he felt the tears fell down his eyes.

"A fucking four year old [Name]! T-they fucking killed her without mercy unlike her older brother!" The brunet had shouted as his mind went back to the scene. The brunet almost vomit on seeing the young girl's corpse, face barely recognizable by her parents.

"She fucking died feeling the fucking pain of her head being bashed repeatedly on the fucking floor unlike her brother who was immediately fucking shot in the head! She fucking died suffering [Name]!" Gavin cried out to his lover. The corpses of the two too young children to die was so painful for the brunet detective. Especially the little girl's where she suffered greatly before death embraced her.

"S-she died p... painfully [Name]..." Gavin had quietly muttered as he sobbed. "S-she was too young... they were t-too young..."

[Name] could only hug his broken lover as Gavin clung onto him. Crying on his chest as the brunet had clutched his shirt. The anguished sobs of his lover made the [Hair color] haired male mutter things to comfort him.

"T... they d-didn't deserved t-this..." Gavin muyyered through his sobs as he felt his lover rubbed his back to soothe him. [Name] brought his lover closer to him as he muttered onto Gavin's neck, "I know love... I'm so sorry for you to witness this..."

"I-I couldn't e-even f... find t-the people who did this to t-them..." [Name] hugged Gavin tigher as he felt his lover shake in his arms. "Shhh, you will love. You'll find these fuckers and have them jailed..." Embracing the brunet tighter in his arms as he consoled Gavin.

More: good sleep

For the past few nights, the brunet haired male couldn't sleep. He felt a bit miserable each night he slept alone in their large bedroom without the comforting embrace and the warm body of his [Hair color] haired lover beside him. For three days or so, the [Hair color] haired man was too busy doing work and would often come home late, more so in around twelve or past two in the morning. It also doesn't help that the brunet male as that haunting scene of the case he had weeks ago was still fresh in his mind.

The brunet male let out a tired sigh as he looked at the empty space beside him where his suppose to be lover lay. Gently patting the empty space with his hand as he wished the other male was right beside him now. Gavin wanted his lover's arms wrapped around him as he get pulled closer in a warn embrace. The feeling of his [Hair color] haired lover just there, embracing him and always affectionately mutter sweet things to his ear that sometimes he felt embarrassed about. He missed [Name] dearly. But he couldn't do much but just imagine the male was there beside him.

After awhile of just mindlessly looking at the empty spot of the [Hair color] haired male, Gavin finally felt himself succumbed to the tiredness he had felt as he slept soundly. Not really noticing the door to their bedroom slowly opened for the very male he was waiting to come in.

[Name], the [Hair color] haired male had some small bags underneathe his eyes from the late shifts he was working through and despite how tired he felt, he softly smiled when he saw his brunet lover sleeping soundlessly on their shared bed.

Slowly, the man had unbuttoned his white dress shirt and putting it on an office chair they had in the room, he then proceed to take his black dress pants off and mindlessly kicked it on the floor. Going through his closet to find a grey sweatpants and a black wifebeater to wear, he then proceed to go over to sleep beside his lover.

[Name] wasn't surprised when as he laid down beside Gavin, the said man had immediately shifted and pressed himself on the [Hair color] haired man's side. The [Hair color] haired man couldn't help but smile softly as he watched his sleeping lover cuddle on him as he slowly wrapped his arms on the brunet, pressing a soft kiss on the male's head as he then closed his eyes. It didn't take long for sleep to take his conscience.

The two slept well that night as Gavin was in his lover's arms. Not a nightmare of that horrid case to be found.

More: adventures

Day offs were the best. That is where he and his [Name] could agree on, other than coffee is the best early in the morning. Gavin would spend his day off just laze around his and his lover's shared home, watch a horror movie and midlessly pet their furry baby, Donut. The fat orange tabby cat who they adopted when Gavin and [Name] moved in with each other and had decided to just sit on the house's back porch to enjoy the calm day a few years back.

Gavin was laying his head on [Name]'s lap. The [Hair color] haired man stroking and playing his brown locks. A donut in Gavin's hand as he ranted about a suspect on a case he had few days ago. Talking animatedly as [Name] looks down at him with ove in his eyes and a smile on his lips. Listening to Gavin talk and comment at times.

The two were having a peaceful time with each other when a meow was heard and before the brunet knew it, an orange blur passed by him and saw that it had took the donut in his hand. Gavin let out a cry as he immediately sat up, almost hitting his head with [Name]'s if the other man had not been startled and reeled back because of Gavin's cry and actions.

Gavin, having to sat back up and frantically tried to look at the culprit who took his donut. A bit enrage because it was his favorite one and was planning to hit whatever thing that took it-- only to see a few feet away from him and his lover was seating at, close to the fence was a tabby cat, consuming his donut.

After that, [Name] had caught the furry rascal and immediately fell inlove. The [Hair color] haired man silently pleading Gavin on taking care of the cat but the brunet didn't agreed. His reason was that the cat took his donut. His favorite and last donut.

The brunet male was ready to come inside and hopefully find another snack to eat but when he looked at [Name] who was holding the fat cat... he gaved up. He was stubborn and very against it.

Until the two-- [Name] and the cat-- pouted and gave him a pleading look. Both looks made the brunet cave in and that was when they officially had their first "baby".

A fat, lazy, furry, annoying baby who craves attention. Especially from the [Hair color] haired man. The detective swear that the cat gives him the smuggest look a cat can do when [Name] pets him and switch his attention from Gavin to Donut. Cooing and smothering the orange tabby cat with all the love and affection while Gavin silently fumed in rage as the cat-- a fucking cat had the audacity to look so smug when it looked at him while his own lover was cooing and showing affection to it.

That was where Gavin realize how much he loved yet also hated cats.

"I will call you Donut-- no [Name]. I will name this little shit rug right here. No. You forced me to adopt with this little asshole and I have the power to name him. Now, where was I? Right. I will call you Donut, because HOLY SHIT, I DO NOT FEEL LIKE SEEING YOUR DUMB SMUG LOOK ON YOUR FACE YOU FUCKING LITTLE ASSHOLE-- OH MY GOD! [NAME] LET'S THROW THIS ASSHOLE IN THE POOL!"

More: interesting conversation

It was a hot day and the two lovers stayed inside for it. Just lazying around. Gavin, again, had a day off and he just spended it with him and [Name] in the livingroom.

Gavin had taken on lounging himself on the coach and was playing away with Donut that was laying on his chest. Not really minding the tabby cat as he played with the cat's orange fur. This was one of the few occasions the cat actually lets him be affectionate to Gavin since the tabby cat mostly preferred [Name]'s attention.

Gavin's head laid on [Name]'s lap as the latter was reading on an old book. Paper books were rather rare nowadays and [Name] always loved them than the tablets. He felt like a child when he reads. Remembering back in his childhood where his parents would buy him books to read.

"Would it considered be incest if you fuck your own clone?" Gavin had abruptly said. Tone laced with boredom as he had continued to mindlessly run his fingers on Donut's fur. The cat purring, happy with the affection he was getting.

Gavin's comment made the [Hair color] haired almost choke on his spit as he had paused his reading and looked at the male.

Gavin giving him a unwavered determination on his face when he had looked at the male in the eye.

"What...?" [Name] asked, confused and rather perplexed with what his brunet lover had just said. Destroying the silence and making him ponder if Gavin finally lost his mind.

"Why... explain," the [Hair color] haired had sighed as he had placed a bookmark on the page he was reading and closed his book. Putting it down on the coffee table beside the couch as he returned to look at Gavin.

"Like... well... doesn't your clone carry your dna or some science bullshit? So, isn't that how incest works?" Gavin explained. Making some hand gestures that amuses [Name].

"Just... it is incest to fuck your clone!" Gavin had continued as he made made a face that seemed to be mix with anger and realization. "Wait... it is also kinda gay too, like, right?"

[Name] bit back a laugh threatening to leave his lips as he shake his head with Gavin rambling on about more about clones and if you would have sex with one.

"Gavin... you are gay," [Name] mused as the brunet detective send him an unamused glare when he had chuckled.

"Well, yeah I am shitlock. I am dating your dumb ass," retorded Gavin as the [Hair color] haired laughed. "What I mean is..." Gavin trailed off as he madly gestured something invisible that only seemed to see. It was amusing to [Name].

"Clones."

Leaning down toward's Gavin face, [Name] placed a soft kiss on the brunet's lips.

"Honestly, your adorable," mused [Name] as he parted and went back to his comfortable position on the couch as Gavin sputtered out incoherent words.

More: laughter

Gavin rolled his eyes as he saw [Name] play with Donut. The [Hair color] haired man and the orange tabby cat were on the floor. Donut was laying on his back, his tummy exposed to the [Hair color] haired man that [Name]'s [Skin color] hand would tickle the cat's tummy then raise it fast enough for the cat not to grabbed. [Name] laughing and enjoying his time with the feline as the cat was also enjoying aswell. Purring and meowing with content. This made Gavin a bit irritated.

"You pay more attention to that damn cat more than me," Gavin had grumbled out of a blue as he strutted towards the two as he then plopped down beside [Name] who didn't seemed to mind him.

"Oi," Gavin pouted when the [Hair color] haired man did not turn to greet him nor give a single glance to his person.

"[Name]," the brunet whine as the said man merely hummed as he played with the tabby cat. "[Name], talk to me," Gavin whine as he dragged the 'e' in the last word for higher annoyance.

"Yes, dear?" Hummed [Name] as he picked up Donut and raised it towards his eye level. The tabby cat looking at him in the eye and sticking his pink tongue. The cat's actions made [Name] chuckle as he nuzzled his nose towards the tabby cat's ones.

"Such a cute kitty you are," [Name] praised as Gavin let out a loud groan. "[Name] pay attention to me you dick," Gavin whined.

The said man did not do as what Gavin had whine which made the brunet huff in annoyance. After awhile of the [Hair color] haired cooing at the tabby cat. Gavin finally split.

"Give me the cat," the brunet had stated. [Name] seemed to pay attention now to what he says at the [Hair color] haired man turned his head away from Donut who meowed and looked at Gavin.

"What now?" Asked [Name].

"I said give me the damn cat," Gavin had commanded as he saw [Name] rolled his eyes but nevertheless, gaved the cat to the angry brunet. Placing the tabby cat gently on the brunet's hands as Gavin immediately raised it towards his eye level like [Name] did awhile ago and glared with the cat's eyes.

"You," Gavin started as Donut looked at him in eye with its own version of an annoyed glare. Clearly the cat was not hapoy to be taken away from his quality bonding tine with his [Hair color] haired owner.

"Fuck off you damn pussy-- he's fucking gay," Gavin had said.

Donut was an intelligent cat. Well, cats are more intelligent creatures that humans give them credit for. But Donut was really an intelligent one. He seemed to know what his brunet owner was saying and in return for Gavin's angry words. Donut hissed in Gavin's face and wiggled out from the brunet's hold.

Due to Donut's abruptly hissing and wiggling his body, he successfully got out of Gavin's hold which made the brunet yelp from the hissing. The tabby cat had landed in all fours as he then dashed back to [Name]. Leaping at the [Hair color] haired man's lap as the orange tabby cat then made himself comfortable there.

[Name] laughed at what he had just witnessed as he mindlessly patted the cat on his lap while he watched Gavin swear at everything.

"Mother fucking cat! Suck ass bitch like what the fuck that mother fucker--" and the curses go on and on and on that made the [Hair color] haired man laughed out more. Honestly, why was Gavin always like this? He doesn't know but he loves it.

Gavin let out a few more string of curses as he angrily glared at ther feline until he directed his glare at the laughing [Hair color] haired man. "Stop laughing dumbass," grumbled Gavin as [Name] rolled his eyes and chuckled.

"Sorry but Donut really do not like you," [Name] had said as he took a quick look at the purring cat on his lap. Gavin seemed to catch his words which caused the brunet to roll his eyes.

"You think?" Gavin sarcastically had said. The [Hair color] haired man merely sent him a grin.

It took a second for Gavin to realized [Name]'s words again.

"Did you just... you..." Gavin had said as he look at the other man who sent him a beaming smile.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" Gavin groaned at the joke his lover had said as he slapped his hand on his forehead. Despite it though, there was a smile on the brunet's lips.

"God, you are such a fucking dumbass," Gavin had said to the man as the other merely shrugged.

"You love this dumbass though," the [Hair color] haired commented as Gavin rolled his eyes but laughed.

"Dang right I do!" Beamed Gavin as the [Hair color] haired man shakes his head but softly smiled. Leaning towards the brunet and placed a soft kiss on Gavin's forehead.

"You are such a dork," [Name] softly said as Gavin sputtered out incoherent sentences with his surprise affection. Gavin's reaction made the [Hair color] haired man laugh again.

More: happy dances

Gavin groaned as he stiffly sat up straight. The brunet trying to fix the collar of his suit as he sent [Name] a glare when the man chuckled at his discomfort.

"Having a great time gents?" A voice piped up from behind them. Gavin didn't have to look to know it was one of his older sisters. Specifically, the one who wore a white wedding gown with a cheeky smile on her lips.

"I would if this would be fucking over," grumbled Gavin as [Name] elbowed him but sent the older female a charming smile.

"Oh course we do, Delilah," he said as Gavin rolled his eyes sister.

"When will this be over again?" Gavin asked as he saw his sister sent him a small glare but then pouted. His comment had made the [Hair color] haired man sitting beside him elbow him again. Making him grunt in pain.

"Fine, fine," grumbled Gavin. "I am having a blast with the part Del! Such a marvelous party it is, oh yes it very is!" The brunet sarcastically and dramatically had said as Delilah sent him another pout and turned to the [Hair color] haired man.

"Ugh, I'm so sorry you have to date his ass, [Name]," Delilah had said as the [Hair color] haired man shrugged.

"I'm sorry for myself too," [Name] commented which earned him an angry "hey!" from the brunet and a chuckle from the woman dressed in white.

"Anyways, off to mingle with the other guests now!" Delilah said with a clap of her hands. She send the two men smiles again and even ruffled Gavin's hair which gotten her some curses from the brunet. "Have fun you two!" She said as she walked away. Finding herself talking to another pair of people.

"Honestly," huffed Gavin as he crossed his arms on his chest. "She is still that annoying shithead of a sister," he had said.

[Name] only chuckled as he shakes his head. "You're still happy she's married though, right?"

"Not really," Gavin answered honestly which earned him a raised brow from the [Hair color] haired man. Not that he could see anyways. "I mean... that asshole better treat her right or I swear to God, he'll be framed for murder or some shit," sweared Gavin underneath his breath and the man beside him still caught it.

The [Hair color] haired merely shake his head and a fond smile on his lips as he looked at Gavin quietly grumbling uncomfortably in his seat. The two did wore some formal suits for it was Delilah's wedding. Gavin being a sibling is definitely invited while [Name] was his plus one and date. The two, of course, being lovers and all.

It was quiet-- save from the occasional grumblings from the brunet-- as two merely minded their business. Already finished eating the food that was catered by the wedding caterers and all.

After awhile, the large speakers in the area began to boom some songs. A song appropriate for a slowl dance in fact and it made Gavi perked up for a bit as he looked around. Watching how Delilah and her now-husband dancing in the middle and then some few guests aswell.

[Name] seemed to noticed his gaze on the dancers as he softly smiled. Standing up from his seat, the [Hair color] haired walked around his seat as he then offered his hand to Gavin who had looked at him with a raised brow.

"Care for a dance?" [Name] said with a charming smile that made Gavin roll his eyes but nevertheless, took the offer with his own grin.

"Let's show these motherfuckers how dancing is!" Gavin had said as he heard [Name] chuckle and helped him stand up from his seat. With hands holding, the [Hair color] haired man lead them both to the dance floor. With that, the two faced each other and placed their hands in the right order. Gavin placing one of his hand on [Name]'s shoulder while the other man placed a hand on his hips. The other hand holding each other as they looked one another in the eye. And they danced.

"You know, I thought you'd refused for a dance," [Name] confessed as Gavin sent him a small glare.

"I won't back down from this," muttered Gavin. Hearing his comment made [Name] smile.

"Well, that's good to hear... because I want to dance this song to with you," the [Hair color] had said with a smile as the bruney rolled his eyes yet a grin on his lips.

"Stop being sappy you dick," commented the brunet with a smile as [Name] laughed.

"I will if you change your last name to mine," came the retort as Gavin took a second to process what the other had said while [Name] smiled.

"Wait... did... did you just... what?" Gavin sputtered out as [Name] twirled him.

"Let's just enjoy this dance, alright?" The [Hair color] haired man innocently had said as he gave Gavin a smile. Gavin seemed to think for a second but nodded. A grin on his lips.

"You better come and proposed when I'm in the middle of my damn sappy congratulations to Delilah's marriage or so help me, I wont say yes," Gavin joked as the [Hair color] haired laughed at it.

"And get the attention off the newly wed? How evil," the [Hair color] haired man teased as Gavin rolled his eyes but smiled.

"Fuck them, I am an attention hoe and it's my revenge for making the two of us come here," Gavin replied as he felt [Name]'s hand squeezed their intertwined ones. "We could have fucked by this time god damn it."

"Let's see, shall we dear?" [Name] said as he spun Gavin around again. Then bringing the brunet close as the song slowly ended.

"Also, my answer is fuck yes," [Name] smiled at Gavin's words.

"That's great to hear."

#gavin x male reader #gavin reed #dbh gavin #detroit become human #detroit: become human #dbh #gavin reed x male reader #reed x male reader #dbh x male reader #detroit become human x male reader #x male reader #male reader insert #male reader #fluff

[neo-culture-taste]

Subscribe! - Lie Detector Test

Pairing: Yuta x Reader (fem)

Genre: AU, romance, comedy, fluff

Word count: 2849

Summary: A YouTube inspired drabble series where you and your boyfriend upload videos catering to the couple tag.

For other members, see masterlist.

"What's up, everybody!" you happily greeted your viewers at the beginning of the video. You and your boyfriend were seated side by side at your kitchen table with a brown box placed in between the two of you. "It's Y/N and Yuta doing something dumb on the internet for attention again." 

Yuta sputtered a laugh at your blunt but true statement. "Tell them what we're doing today," he told you and placed his hand on top of the box. 

"They already know what we're doing because of the title of the video and because--" your eyes traveled down to look at your boyfriend's hand on the box and you gasped. "Oh shit, I never opened it!" You sprung up from your seat and rushed to a nearby drawer in your kitchen to retrieve a pair of scissors.

Your boyfriend looked at you off camera in disbelief. "You didn't do that yet?" he asked, incredulous. 

"I forgot," you said and you dug around inside the drawer of random junk. "You saw the box there! Why didn't you say anything?"

"I thought you pre-opened it--AH!" Yuta yelped and he quickly moved his hand away from the table as it was almost impaled by the scissors you haphazardly tossed to him. "That's dangerous! I almost lost my whole arm!" he cried, clutching his shoulder with his other hand. "I should sue you!"

"Just hurry up and open the box," you said. You could be heard closing the drawer and making your way back to the table.

He picked up the scissors and began carefully slicing into the tape sealing the edges of the box. "Do you even know how many batteries we need for it?" He opened the top of the box then took out the product that was still sealed inside its own packaging. He stopped right before scissoring into that when he realized you hadn't answered him nor had you returned to sit next to him at the table. The video zoomed in on his face as he locked eyes with you still off camera, and the kitchen drawer could be heard reopening. "Y/N, really?!" You answered him by throwing a four pack of batteries at his chest, but you missed your target and the pack went over your boyfriend and the table completely. "Hey! I have the weapon now!" He held the scissors out in self defense  and pointed it at you as if it were a sword. The video zoomed in and the picture shook as he swiftly scissored the air in front of him to accentuate his point.

"We are such bad influences," you laughed and made your way back to the seat next to him. 

Yuta redirected his scissor sword towards the camera. "Don't play with scissors, kids."

"Don't point it at them!"

"Oh, whoops. Haha," he laughed and quickly put the scissors down onto the table before the video cut to the next clip. 

"Ok, so," you began. "This is a lie detector and we're going to take turns asking each other questions and see who's telling the truth or not. You know how lie detectors work. Let's play!"

"We tested this thing out a minute ago and it really hurts when you lie. So no matter how juicy the question is, it's best to tell the truth so you don't get hurt."

"I don't have anything to hide so you're the only one worried about that," you taunted with a smug smile. 

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"I dunno. We're about to find out. Put your hand on the thingy!" Yuta rolled his eyes but did what he was told and securely fastened his hand to the lie detector. You cleared your throat exaggeratedly and resituated yourself in your seat. "I'll start off with an easy one. Do you think I'm pretty without makeup?" You asked him then pressed the button on the lie detector to start measuring his answer. 

"Pshh," your boyfriend blew air between his teeth. "That is an easy one. Of course," he said with all confidence. 

Ding! Truth.

"Aw, baby~," you cooed. He presented his cheek to you with a playful smile and the batting of his eyelashes, and you accepted his offer, placing a loud smooch on the side of his face.

"My turn!" He quickly unstrapped his hand and waited for you to strap yourself in before asking his question. "Do you think any of my friends," he paused for dramatic effect, "look better than me?" 

You didn't even have time to process his question before he pushed the button. "I gave you an easy one!" you complained. 

"That doesn't mean I have to go easy on you. Hurry up an answer."

"Okay, then. Yes." 

"What!?"

Ding! Truth.

You relaxed in your seat, your body having tensed up in preparation for the sudden shockwave but it never came. You had only said 'yes' to get back at Yuta for asking such a loaded question. You didn't think the toy would say you were telling the truth. You flashed Yuta a nervous smile and he simply nodded with his tongue in his cheek. 

"Yeah, okay. That's fine." He unstrapped your hand from the device and replaced it with his own. "I think they look better than you, too."

You laughed out loud and leaned your head against his shoulder. "I really thought it would have caught me lying. This thing isn't accurate."

"Nah, you meant what you said," he said in mock offense. 

"It’s your fault for asking!" you defended and picked up your head. "But since you wanna play dirty. Do you wish I had bigger boobs?" you asked and pressed the button with lightning speed. 

"This is still an easy one," he boasted. "Of course I don't. I think everything about you is perf--"

Bzzt! Lie. 

"Ow, fuck!" Yuta's body jerked violently in his seat and his hand lifted the whole lie detector off of the table despite it being suction cupped. 

You doubled over laughing, not having expected such a reaction like that from him. When the two of you tested out the device before the game, you had it on the medium setting. But right before you started you switched it to the highest it could go. "That's what you get! I knew you thought my boobs weren't big enough!"

"No! They're the perfect size!"

"Then why did it say you were lying?"

He smiled. "Well, I mean, there's always room for growth."

You exaggerated a gasp. "How dare!"

"You wanted to play this game," he said as he put the lie detector back onto the table. "Dang, I really need to get you with this next one. That hurt like hell."

"You're not gonna get anything but the truth from me," you said after strapping your hand in. 

"Yeah, sure. We'll see." He took a moment to think of his next question. "Have you ever had a dream that you were with someone else?" he asked and pushed the button.

Your eyes went to the ceiling in search of your answer as you tried to recall a time when this happened. "Umm...pfft," you suddenly began to giggle. "Yeah, I did."

Ding! Truth. 

Yuta squinted his eyes at you in a fake scowl as you took your hand away but ended up laughing when you gave the same look back at him. "I knew you were a cheater!" he playfully accused you. 

"That's not cheating! I was asleep! Plus, celebrities don't count."

"A cele--Which one?!"

"That's not important right now," you said moving the game along. "Your next question is: Have you looked at someone else's butt while we were together?"

"Nope," he said with emphasized phonetics on the 'p'.

Bzzt! Lie. 

His body spasmed once more but this time he held his ground and kept the device attached to the table. "Aw, c'mon!" You bemusedly shook your head at your boyfriend as you watched him take back his hand and rub his palm. "It wasn't on purpose!"

"No, I get it. Their cheek game was too strong to not look."

"Hell yeah, it was," he added and your face fell as you glared at your boyfriend. He looked back at you in faux innocence and waited for you to get ready. "Have you ever thought about breaking up with me," he continued the game with another loaded question."

"Yeah," you sassed him and stuck out your tongue.

Bzzt! Lie. 

You screamed and held on to your boyfriend with your free hand as your body thrashed in your seat. "Oh my gosh! Are you okay?!" Yuta asked you through his laughter but with genuine concern. He unwrapped your hand and held close to his chest with his own. "Why'd you say that if it was a lie?"

You righted yourself in your seat and pouted at your self inflicted injury. "Cuz I wasn't lying!"

"What?! When did you want to break up with me?"

"You know that one time you ate my leftovers from that Mediterranean restaurant we went to--" 

Yuta's face deadpanned and he let go of your hand. "Wow. Really, Y/N?"

"I was really looking forward to eating them later, but the opportunity was robbed from me!"

"Well, I have no idea what you're talking about and I don't appreciate being blamed for such a heinous crime." Yuta said with mock arrogance and readied himself for your next question.

You pressed the button before you even asked your question. "Did you eat my food?"

"Y/N!" Yuta said frantically.

"Answer me!"

"No! I didn't!"

Bzzt! Lie. 

Yuta's entire body shook as he tried to overcome the shockwave that rippled through him. "Ah ha!" you exclaimed and stood up from your seat, finger pointed at the caught culprit. "You're a liar and a thief!"

Your boyfriend batted your hand away from him and laughed before addressing the camera.

"Yeah, I ate it."

"Hmpf," you huffed and sat back down in your seat to prepare for his next question. 

"Have you ever missed or wanted to get back with your ex?"

"Yeah. Right now and when you stole my food," you said with a fake edge to your voice and pressed the button yourself. 

Bzzt! Lie. 

Yuta saw the led lights change to red on the front of the device and swiftly grabbed your free hand before it shocked you, allowing you to squeeze the life out of him as you bared the short, but effective pain. "Fuck it! I don't wanna play anymore!"

"I got shocked more than you did!"

"That's not my problem!"

"We can't stop now. The video won't be long enough. Here." He removed your hand from the lie detector and turned a dial on the side of it. "I put it on the lowest shock setting so it won't hurt you anymore."

"Thank you," you said but continued to pout in your seat. Yuta couldn't resist how cute you looked with the way your bottom lip slightly protruded outward and placed a sweet kiss against it. "Don't try to redeem yourself," you told him with a smile that said otherwise. He rolled his eyes and gestured for you to continue with the game. "Am I your most favorite person in the whole wide world?"

"So we're going back to easy questions?" he asked. "Of course you are."

Ding! Truth. 

"Ooo, wait until I tell your mom her birthday card was a lie."

The video zoomed in on Yuta's face while his brows furrowed in confusion for a moment before his eyes widened as he remembered the exact words he wrote inside his mother's card. "Oh, my gosh. Please don't!"

"I won't have to. She'll find out when she watches this video," you said lightheartedly and replaced his hand with yours on the toy. 

Your boyfriend faced forward and smiled sheepishly at the camera. "Sorry, mom," he said with a shrug before asking his next question. "Am I the best boyfriend you've ever had?"

You puckered your lips playfully as if you have to think about it. "Hmmmmm, yes. The bar is set pretty low, though," you joked. 

"Hey!"

Bzzt! Lie. 

"Ow!" you yelled, but only jumped slightly in your seat as the shock was significantly weaker than the previous turns. "I wasn't lying this time!"

"Oh, so you were actually lying before?" he inquired with narrow eyes. 

You hesitated. "Y-yea?" You'd been joking around so much, you didn't remember what was a lie and what wasn't. 

"Are you lying right now?" he asked then pressed the button again on the lie detector before you had the chance to remove your hand from it. 

You looked him straight in the eyes and answered, "I might be."

Bzzt! Lie. 

You closed your eyes as your body jolted and muttered a slew of choice words under your breath, all to your boyfriend's amusement. "Stop laughing at me! Strap yourself in!" He did the second thing you said but he didn't stop snickering at your expense. "Do you think I'm a good kisser?"

Yuta's eyebrows flew up in surprise. "So now we're getting to the juicy questions, huh?"

"I'm pressing the button now," you said ignoring him. 

"Oh, yeah," he smirked. "You're the best when it comes to using--" You shot him a look, warning him not to say anything too lewd about you in front of the camera. "K-Kissing… When it comes to kissing," he said, managing to save himself.

Ding! Truth. 

"And not the French kind. Ew, nay!" he added afterwards, causing you to sputter into laughter. "Okay. This is my last question," he said when you were done fastening your hand down. "Have you ever," he paused for dramatic effect one last time, "faked it with me?"

You blinked slowly, dumbfounded by the sheer audacity of your boyfriend to ask you that in front of a camera. But you couldn't say you didn't expect it from him. Still feeling playful, you pretended to be oblivious to what he asked you. "Faked what? Faked that I actually like you? Yeah, I'm faking right now."

Yuta rolled his eyes again and scoffed. "Don't even try to pretend to be innocent. You know what I mean." He pushed the button and waited for your response. 

"I don't have to fake that with you," you told him with a telling smile.

Ding! Truth. 

A toothy grin slowly spread its way across your boyfriend's face as he looked at you in the seat next to him. "Hey, what are you doing after this?" He asked you as if he were trying to pick you up in a nightclub. "I wanna put that to the test." Oh, gosh. He could be so greasy sometimes. 

"Editing this video," you stated matter-of-factly. 

"Damn," was all he said before the video cut to the next clip. 

"That's all we have for today," you said, clapping your hands together in front of you. 

"Because Y/N is a wimp and can't take being electrocuted."

"Well, yeah!" you defended. 

"It's not even real electricity!"

"It still hurts! Plus we can't do all the questions now. We won't have anything for the next time we play this."

"You actually want to do this again?" he asked surprised. 

"Yeah, this thing was like twenty-five dollars."

"Oh." The two of you were definitely going to get your money's worth. 

"So," you began addressing the audience once more, "If you want to see us play this again, leave some questions we can ask each other down in the comments."

"Maybe your question will be the one to break us up," Yuta added with a chuckle and placed his arm around your shoulder. 

"Nah," you dismissed him. "This is all in fun. Plus, this thing is a toy version of the real deal." You held up the hunk of plastic and then not so gently dropped it back down onto the table—right after you finished complaining about its price. "We didn't take anything it confirmed seriously. So, do that, like this video, subscribe to our channel if you haven't already, follow us on social media…" You trailed off, counting on your fingers to see if you've said everything already or left something out.

"Turn on post notifications," Yuta reminded you. 

"Turn on post notifications!" You repeated it even though you didn't have to. "And we can't wait to see you in our next video. I can't tell you what it is now because Yuta isn't supposed to know about it." The next video you had in mind was a kind of sexy prank you were secretly going to do on your boyfriend to see how he would react. So, you had to leave him completely in the dark about it. "It's a surprise."

His head snapped to look at you in shock and confusion. "Wait, what?"

"You'll see," you said with a sickeningly sweet smile on your face and followed it with a kiss on the tip of his nose. 

Now he definitely knew something was up. 

- D

#yuta #nakamoto yuta #nct yuta #nct #nct u #nct 127 #nct fic #nct scenario #nct fluff #nct smut #nct drabble #johnny #taeyong #jaehyun #yuta fluff #yuta smut #d writes #subscribe!

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

In My Mind x 04

*Re-uploading because I've edited these to flow a little bit better. Thank you for your patience!

All the things one has forgotten

scream for help in dreams. 

~Elias Canetti

---

“So your plan is to use humiliation as a tool for blackmail? Uh uh, no.”

His eyebrows arch in challenge.

“I said no!”

You stare at Erik from your position on his couch and shake your head. His place is beautiful and spacious, the top floor of some building. If you had this, you’d be ecstatic. However, you can’t really enjoy the aesthetics as you’re exhausted from the back and forth of fussing with this guy. You’ve been going toe to toe with him over the same issue for the past twenty minutes and he is not taking no for an answer.

“You ain’t gotta do anything that’s gonna cloud ya innocence, you just gotta ride with me and try to focus in on him, that’s it. Then just tell me what you see.”

“For WHAT?”

He swore he was slick, but for what good purpose could he want to invade the privacy of someone else’s dreams?

“Nia, do you know what this muhfucka does all day? He kills niggas for a fuckin PAYCHECK! He’s the police chief and I’m bout sick of this shit happening to our people, ain’t you? Or do your MORALS detract from your compassion?”

Guilt. That’s his tactic.

“Don’t try to manipulate me into being your weapon. That’s not fair and you know it.”

“Babygirl, LIFE ain’t fair. It’s SHIT! Because the people who could do shit to help it, don’t do shit.”

That’s you apparently. Somehow this is becoming your fault.

“It’s not like I’m a kill him, I’m just gone give him some initiative to leave our people alone. I’m keeping the streets safe, something we both know people like him don’t give a damn about.”

His finger lifts your chin and his eyes are full of sincerity. You pull your face away from his hand. He’s sincere in his passion, but not his intentions, you can feel it.. an intense bloodlust.

“Nigga, I’m not dumb. You’re gonna kill him and then you’re gonna try and justify it saying he deserved it.. and he probably does! But what happens after that? You get another one in his place and this continues.”

“You ain’t sayin shit I don’t know. I told you, we just gone shake him up a bit. Wouldn’t you want someone to step in for you and yours?”

You eye him. It’s really late and you’re tired, but you know you can’t complain. This is a man who hardly sleeps because he’s seen too much to keep his eyes closed.. literally and figuratively.

“What’s the use of having power if you don’t use it to benefit your people?”

Ol’ super woke ass.

“I’ll make you a deal,” you say and he’s all ears. “I’ll try it. IF.. we go to sleep tonight and you actually sleep.”

Hesitantly, he takes your hand and guides you into his bedroom. Now it’s your turn to look about. The room is dark and masculine like you expected. It's fairly impersonal. There are no real personal touches. Other than a-

“Hey, that’s the journal from your dream,” you point out the worn leather journal on the nightstand. In his dream it was full of symbols that he seemed to understand. The journal obviously held strong purpose and direction for him.

He looks from the journal to you and collects it smoothly, moving it away from you. He doesn’t want you near it. Pressing your lips in a tight line you follow him with your eyes as he exits the room reappearing without the journal.

“You’re aware I’ve already seen some of what’s in there, I just can’t read it,” you deadpan. He pulls his shirt off and there are the little marks he showed you some of before. You knew you’d felt stabbing over your entire torso and now, bit by bit, you're beginning to understand what these marks really represent.

You walk back to the living room space to give him some privacy. He looked like he was ready to strip on the spot whether you stayed or left, gathering his things to shower. A minute later you hear another door close. So a minute or so after that, you determine that he must actually be in the shower. Time to explore. Popping your head back in his bedroom, he's gone. You don’t know where he put that journal so you can’t sneak and look at it.

Back in the living room you quickly walk through noting the dark paneled walls with white accents matching the dark floor, broken up by floor to ceiling glass windows. The glass is thick, you can tell. The outside sky, black. Very dark and semi-gloomy, befitting of a villain’s lair. This is the penthouse.

The living room looks like it can seat twenty with its large white couches and arm chairs. The open kitchen maintains the black theme with its wall of black drawers and trap doors hiding appliances. There's the black island with black bar stools.. liquor in sight. It’s all impersonal, yet sleek.

The only character you can see is in the traditional African masks crafted in wood or iron and the paintings alternating and strategically lining the walls that aren’t black panels.

Then there’s the bookcase and the game system. You go to the bookcase. There's The New Jim Crow. Assata. Emmett Till. Mechanical Engineering. Xhosa, Russian, and German dictionaries. Taxes and financial literacy, law books.. steep, pretty steep. Picking up the Xhosa dictionary you flip through it. The symbols match what you saw in the journal and you decide that if you ever get the chance, you’re decoding that worn out journal. You put the dictionary back like you found it and walk further into his home. He has a ridiculous amount of space.. and money aparently.

Your sixth sense tingles and you dash silently back to the living room, making sure to breathe and act normal. A few minutes later Erik rounds the corner waving you back towards him. You follow him back into the bedroom and he hands you a t-shirt.

“Shower’s all yours. Sleep in this, we’ll get you some clothes tomorrow.”

—

The steaming cascade was restorative. You silently rejoiced under the stream. Many people underestimate the wonders of a hot waterfall and privacy, but not you. You were thankful. The bathroom was so large it could’ve been a spa room or a multi-stalled toilet. You towel off and put the t-shirt on. It goes just past your butt, modest enough if you don’t bend over. Your energy saps you all of a sudden and you double over on the sink feeling your exhaustion. You just want to sleep.

You walk back to the bedroom and Erik is in the bed, eyes closed. No wonder. It’s partially your own exhaustion and partially the pull.

You slide underneath the comforter and top sheet fighting the urge to cuddle him for your own comfort. Your arms feel empty and wanting. You turn your back to him to counteract that feeling and slip under a veil of p i t c h b l a c k...

Ghanaian ceremonial mask used for religious and mythical purposes. Benin mask of Queen Mother Idia. She has a beaded headress and her scarification is like yours, something these white people will never understand but like to pretend they’re the experts on. So, how is it they ended up with OUR shit? The FUCKIN British Empire. And here go this pilgrim looking broad, like clockwork. Drink up, bitch.

“Good morning! How can I help you?”

Fake ass. You been watching me like this shit ain’t all encased in glass. If I were a normal citizen how would I get into the shit, Karen?

“I’m just checking out the artifacts.. They tell me you’re the expert.”

“You could say that.”

Uhuh, that coffee real good ain’t it, Susan?

“They’re beautiful.. Where’s this one from?" Of course, she answers. Knowing every fuckin thing. "Forreal?” You stall her.

Dumbass.

“And what about this one?… Now, tell me about this one.”

“Also from Benin, 7th century. Fula tribe, I believe.”

You 'believe'... Time to end this.

“Nah. It was taken by British soldiers in Benin, but it’s from Wakanda.. and it’s made of vibranium.”

THERE'S the realization in her eyes. Too late though. You fight a smile, but it wins.

“Don’t worry, I’m a take it off your hands.”

“These items aren’t for sale!”

The damn irony. All this knowledge of history and she ignores the fact that they NEVER were for sale.

“How you think your ancestors got these? You think they paid a fair price? Or did they take it like they took everything else? You got all this security watching me since I came in, but you not checking for what you put in your body… CALL A DOCTOR!”

Her body drops to the ground and a team of men in yellow reflective gear charge in. Gunshots and more useless bodies hit the floor. This is what you’ve been waiting for. One shooter, a white man with a grey bald fade and tattoo on the back of his head, lets a guy go and you think of going after him until he caps him mid-run.

“Why you ain’t just shoot him right here,” you question.

“Because it’s better to leave the crime scene more spread out. Makes us look like amateurs.”

Nigga what the fuck? It’s okay I’m bout done with your ass anyway. Just get me and Lynda to Wakanda.

Jetplane. Black girl. Intense feelings. You love her. She’d die for you. For the vision. She’s the Bonnie to your Clyde, all you need and the future queen of Wakanda. She’s beside you like a queen should be, holding her own.

“Drop us off in Wakanda.”

The grey haired man declines but somehow you knew he would. There’s a gun in your hand and you raise it to shoot the pilot. You should’ve shot the grey haired man first. Now he has your world in his hands and there’s a gun to her head.

“Baba?”

The mulitated body of your father soaked and lying in a pool of crimson. You wrap yourself around him trying to bring him back, every tear a prayer. You’d give anything.

“I’m sorry, Erik,” she pleads. No “Don’t kill me” or “Save me” just “I’m sorry.” She knew this could happen, but you’d miscalculated.

“If that happens, shoot me and KILL him. No matter what, keep going,” she’d told you when you were planning the takeover of Wakanda. You were so confident when you kissed her that it would never come to that. The gun stalls in your hand for the briefest of seconds and then you remember…

Everybody dies.. It's just life around here. None of you are exempt.

“It’s okay,” you say sending her a bullet as cleanly and painlessly as you can. Her body drops and the grey haired man is next.

Everybody leaves. Everybody dies. It's just how it is.

You’re numb.

A whirl of color and a throne room.

"IS THIS YOUR KING?!" The question burns in your throat as you look at the faces.

Blood. Sweat. Ritual combat on top of a high waterfall and you almost bust your ass grabbing that nigga and tossing him to his death. Bombs are exploding. Fire rises and releases its choking smoke. The stench of decay fogs the air. Blood and dirt.

“SHOOT HIM, STEVENS!”

I’LL KILL THAT SMILING MUHFUCKA!

The screams of fear. A crowd of Wakandans blind to the world’s suffering. To your suffering. You swing and keep swinging and you bring it all down, but it gets back up.

A knife jabs and plunges deeply into you but it doesn’t hurt as much as the realization that you’ve failed.

Everything is gone. And for what? You tried your best. Your whole life and it wasn’t good enough. All your life to get here and it’s where you die.

“I should’ve taken you back long ago,” a familiar voice cuts in. You've missed him more than life. “Instead we are both abandoned here.”

Baba.. the lost tribe. But are we truly lost?

“Well, maybe your home’s the one that’s lost that’s why they can’t find us.”

You pull the knife from your body and collapse only to wake up in a lab. A little black girl with braids in two buns like Princess Leia.. standing beside the nigga who killed you staring intently.

“Erik?… Erik… It’s Nia.”

Nia?

“I’ve been here. I saw it all.”

Nia

“Erik, you didn’t fail. We know about Wakanda today because of your sacrifice. They are reaching out to blacks in Cali, and now I understand why. Even if the world doesn’t know, THEY know. I know. And YOU know. You’re a hero. An antihero, but a hero nonetheless.”

Don’t patronize me

“I’m dead serious.”

I’m waking up now

“Wait-” Your eyes flutter open slowly and adapt to the light coming through the window. That dream was.. insane. To think that this is his life. You wouldn’t have made it through all of that. You turn over and almost have a heart attack. His face is close and his eyes stare into yours, filtered in calm. Though awkward, this is progress from the last time he woke up.

“Good morning,” he mumbles in a deep voice that goes directly through you. Keep it together, Nia. You’re self-conscious of your breath so you stay silent. Humor lights his eyes and they squint adorably. Not a word you’d normally attribute to this man.

“What your hair look like under that lacefront?” He smirks.

Annnnd he ruined it.

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