desire

After receiving such lavish gifts which included shopping tours, yacht rides and an impressive visit to his personal vineyards, the CEO’s last gift to you was an opera performance you could’ve only imagined to experience in your dreams. 

“It’s called La Traviata”, your polished and tuxedo-clad date spoke into the shell of your ear, just as you arrived at your destination earlier that night.

He had guided you up the white marble steps of the entrance, offering his arm to you as he stood tall and unfairly handsome against the crowd. Many other similarly dressed men filled the space. A whole sea of them stood with their wives— for some, their mistresses— flaunting expensive clothing and freshly botoxed faces. 

In similar timing, an uncomfortable thought momentarily entered your mind: 

Were you too, just another shadier and even more disposable reflection of these upper class elites?

You glanced over to stare at Yunho, lingering on the idea of how ridiculous it may appear to someone who knew you were a former Hollywood Boulevard stripper attending a high-society opera performance with her billionaire date. 

However, the flash of anxiety disappears and reshapes itself as soon as you feel the intimidating stares and hear the hushed whispers. Gossip swirls around the crowd of esteemed guests who wondered about who you were— the lady in red accompanying their most well-known and eligible bachelor.

Yunho’s voice saves you from your worries once again.

“I think you’ll like tonight's performance,” he admits, softly calling to your name. He looks down, holding eye contact with you and only you, disregarding any other individual that distracts him from admiring your beauty under this antique chandelier tonight. 

You’re reminded again of how easy you become lost with Yunho.

Lost in his world, even if it didn’t always accept you.

All it takes is a sweet look and you seem to fall right for his stupidly charming manners and protective presence. You smiled back nervously, the rubies embedded in the diamond necklace displayed on your collar bones, rising upwards as you inhaled to swallow back your nerves. 

“There’s a lot of people here.” you muttered the obvious, biting your rouge coloured lips as you looked a little intimidated. 

Yunho chuckles and holds onto your hand tight, leading you effortlessly. 

“Let’s go find our seats then.”

The talk dies down as you arrive on the upper floors, a private balcony reserved with comfortable seats and complimentary opera glasses too. 

You quickly turn to Yunho.

“You hate heights though,” you pointed out, brows furrowing. 

The businessman chuckles, taking a seat and crossing his legs as you stand to admire the balcony. 

“But they’re the best ones.”  

When the curtains rise a few minutes later, revealing the opening act alongside booming orchestral music, your heart nearly jumps out of your chest.

It’s easy to become so immersed from the beginning, eyes glued to the stage for the next two hours as you sat the longest Yunho thinks he’s ever seen you go without fidgeting. 

It felt too soon for the night to transition into what was now the final scene— the trembling voice of the baritone’s final words to his dying lover, as she succumbs to her tragic death in his arms. 

Your heart pounds at the sight, the stage becoming blurry as the music grows stronger for the finale. 

And all at once, the curtains close and the opera ends.  

You clap the loudest out of everyone sitting near your area once it’s over, and Yunho is pleased nonetheless to see your vivid reaction to the performance. 

Carefully, his hand slides over to hold your own. 

“I believe you enjoyed it then?” he teases, taking out a handkerchief and offering it to you as you sniffle on the way to the elevator. An unforgettable ache settles in your chest from the beautiful tragedy, quickly nodding back with no other words to say except how beautiful it was as tears filled your eyes. 

Your first introduction to the world of opera ended that evening with an arm latched onto Yunho’s, following the crowd out into the street of waiting cars and limousines. 

“What was your favorite part?” Yunho asks, the corners of his mouth already raised as he wants to hear more of your thoughts, anticipating an enthusiastic response. 

“God, it has to be the moment from the garden,” you gushed, your cheeks aching from smiling too much. “There’s no other scene that was more romantic!”

He wrapped his coat around you as you spoke on and on about the singing and the storyline, ensuring you weren’t cold as a night breeze swept past. 

“Thank you, Yunho,” you turn to him and say once you finish, reaching the tips of your heels as you try to peck him on the cheek. He leans down to meet you halfway.

“I’ll never forget tonight.” 

Your smile causes Yunho to exhale shakily, trying to calm his beating heart and come up with a proper reply back, before something catches your attention from the corner of your eye.

You do a double take to realize a brightly lit hotdog stand was running just across the street. He follows your line of vision.

“Let’s go,” you grinned, tugging on the sleeves of his suit without sparing him another glance. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Yunho chuckles, judging the dingy street food stand as his brows knit together in a rare display of stubbornness. 

“Yes, but not for that.” 

You almost scoff in his face. “Oh c’mon, Yunho,” you say, interlocking your hands together and insistently dragging him towards the mouth-watering smell.

“You said you were hungry!” 

He had no defense against you. 

When you reach the hotdog stand, the billionaire stands stiff beside you, hands tucked into his pockets in clear hesitation at the questionable sanitary conditions.

“Sweetheart,” he bends down, muttering into your ear whilst pointing towards the unchanged grill.

“That is not safe, nor fine dining.”

Rolling your eyes, Yunho watches helplessly as you step towards the vendor whilst fishing out a few bills from his own wallet in the pocket of the coat draped over you. 

“Two hotdogs with a bit of everything on them, please,” you asked the man, glancing back to the billionaire with an excited smile. 

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little weiner, Yunho.”

He frowns, having kept his arms crossed since he entered the vicinity of the cart. 

“I’m not scared,” he replies calmly. “I just don’t see why anyone would willingly consume something made… from here” he pauses, interpreting the picture of a giddy animated sausage on cart sign.

The vendor being a much older man, shuts your sweet date up with one good stare. 

Two hotdogs in hand, you thank the owner sweetly and bring Yunho off to the side so you can eat. If he was skeptical at first, hopefully he’d be more convinced by the smell of caramelized onions and smoked sausage wafting through your noses as you handed him one. 

He looks at the greasy foil.

“I can have my staff make you something on the jet. Something with actual nutritional—”

But you’ve already beaten him to it, taking your first bite of sausage and bun and drowning out his words as you smiled in bliss. 

“Oh god,” you groaned dramatically, eyes shut as you consumed the satisfying food. 

Yunho watches you carefully with reluctant amusement, one hand still buried in his pockets that has yet to unwrap the silver foiled hotdog. 

Seeing how happy you were makes him reconsider. 

All jokes aside, what was he waiting for? If the taste was that special to you, he wanted to experience it as well. 

Yunho takes his hand out from his pocket and unwraps the foil, bending down to take a big, solid bite encasing sausage, condiments, and toppings. 

It was quiet for a moment, both of you chewing slowly before your date reluctantly smiles with full cheeks, nodding his head.

“It’s good…” 

You grin proudly, swiping a pickled jalapeno slice off of his hotdog.

“Not so bad, right?”

And just like that, you and Yunho shared a casual yet comfortable dinner before heading back onto the private jet. Two hot dog combos and many shared conversations later, fast food wrappers laid scattered across the glass table. A bottle of champagne and fresh white peaches present for dessert. 

“So,” you grinned proudly, shuffling your bare feet closer on the seat as your heels laid discarded somewhere. 

“I just introduced you to your first hotdog, then?”

The bowtie of Yunho’s black tuxedo is long gone, draped carelessly over the armrest, as the older man leans back into the leather seat. The dim cabin lights cast a soft golden hue across his jawline as he gestures to the mess on the table. 

“I’ve had them before,” he corrects, like it’s a fact of deep importance that he’s not that bred in upper class luxury. 

You suspected the opposite.

“Well the ones you had probably weren’t even real,” you argued with a roll of your eyes, imagining hor d'oeuvre cocktail sausages or something else ridiculous. 

“If a ‘real’ hotdog comes from a dingy little stand on the corner of a street, then sure,” he says with a bite of amusement. “I'll let you educate me then.” 

You hold down a smile. “See! You’re learning!”

Yunho shakes his head, revealing a full smile which tells you he’ll let you have this one. 

Who knew this would be so natural with someone like him. That despite the expensive tours and shopping sprees, what fulfilled you the most these past few days was sitting here, barefoot, eating three-dollar hot dogs, discussing life and the events of your separate pasts. 

It’s true that the world you're flying above right now belongs to people like Yunho. People with money, wealth, and unlimited freedom. But right now, up here in these clouds, it feels like this tiny corner of the sky belongs to you too.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” he asks while sitting across from you, eyebrows raising as he takes another swig of champagne. 

Your head rests against the fabric of the leather seat, eyelids shutting closed as you ponder. 

“It'll be my last day,” you mumbled carefully, the clarity of your words catching you off guard the second they leave your mouth. 

Yunho stills for a moment. 

“That can’t be.” the billionaire murmurs back, holding his gaze on the rim of his wine glass. It doesn’t settle with him well either. 

The cabin goes quiet all of a sudden. Empty, yet filled with realization neither of you wants to name. It was all according to your agreement.

Four days.

Eight thousand dollars.

That was the deal. 

To think you’d place so much weight on a job that was always meant to be short-lived. It was hard to believe time had gone by so quickly.

Very soon, this fairytale lifestyle you’d been living with would disappear with a simple goodbye, and you and Yunho would return to your respective places in the world. Him, conducting meetings, flying in private jets, and bargaining billions over company titles, while you remained as a waitress, barely making enough to afford milk that was past its expiration date.

The chain of events set into motion the night that armed gunman tried to rob the convenience store, had led you somewhere you’d never imagined possible. Meeting Yunho, spending time with him—having him care for you so effortlessly and spoiling you with money, but also more warmth and tenderness than you knew what to do with— felt unreal. 

You’ve spent your whole life yearning for someone like Yunho. But it's hard to consider whether someone like Yunho could ever need or be satisfied with someone like you.

Imperfections and all.

“I feel as though I still know so little about you,” he says, breaking your inner monologue as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. 

“Tell me, what was your past like? I’m curious to know what you were like in your early twenties” he grinned, amused at the thought of an even more bold and unafraid image of yourself.

You find yourself looking away.

Young, dumb, and dancing naked for money. That’s what you were doing in your early twenties. 

“...I used to dance.” you responded with a tinge of hesitation, swallowing lingering discomfort down your throat that always followed when you brought up your past. 

It wasn’t entirely a lie. You just left out the part that you danced to entertain people waving wads of cash that would keep you from resorting to worse situations awaiting you on the streets.

For you, and for countless girls like Miko you’d met during those nights at the club, it had all been about survival. You weren’t completely ashamed of your previous job, and that’s because it was more than just how others saw it and because you knew that it isn’t something anybody can do. 

Sure, at first you thought the experience was manageable. Fun even. Though that was probably because you were young and uninformed. But with no real backup plan and no proper college degree, dancing was a way to get by. Convincing yourself the sore muscles, unfair treatment, and wandering hands were simply things you had to endure. As though your entire existence was for anyone’s taking, disposable and easily forgotten. 

After obtaining your current job, you realized how important it was to make choices that didn’t force you to go back to that life. 

“A dancer?” Yunho repeats. “I never knew you danced,” he smiled warmly. 

“I work as a waitress now” you replied back, unknowingly picking at the nail of your thumb in habit. “It’s not much, but it’s better than what I was doing before”

It was at this moment you found yourself standing on the edge of something you didn’t know how to step into, words staying stuck behind your teeth. Telling Yunho about your past felt less like honesty and more like setting yourself up to be judged—like another lap dance you weren’t sure you had the guts to finish.

Yunho doesn’t rush you. He never does.

Instead, he studies you in that observative way of his. Like he already knows everything you can’t bring yourself to say. He exhales softly, standing from his seat to shift closer beside you, pulling a soft, folded blanket from somewhere.

Without asking, he drapes it around your shoulders, tucking it in as though he’s trying to keep you from slipping too far into your own thoughts. Then, you feel his hand come up to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch careful enough that it felt almost like permission.

“You know, people like to create stories out of what they can see.” His gaze drops for a moment, deciding how much of himself he can give you in return.

“In my case, it’s a bit ironic. Everyone sees the heir. The family name. The brand that can become just another financial asset…”

You stare back into his eyes, listening carefully. 

“People think they understand the shape of my life just because they can name it.” Yunho states laced with a heavy tone.

“But what most people don’t see… is that I was adopted. And a lot of what I’ve been called—what I’m expected to be—was decided long before I even understood what any of it meant.”

His words hang in the air for a moment, unadorned and leaving you in a bit of shock. You think back to the conversation with the Chairwoman, the night Yunho had that business dinner. 

“No one can learn much when they're surrounded with shadows, darling. But in truth, that’s all that Yunho has had up until now.”

“Business makes it worse,” he continues quietly. “Because it’s never really about truth. It’s about perception. About what people choose to believe is true. And sometimes that perception gets twisted—by ambition, by greed, and…” his words die off, knuckles clenching around the fabric of his pants as if he’s recalling a distasteful memory.

“... by people you thought would know better. Even family.”

There’s a brief pause, something heavier flickering behind his expression. You already know what he means by your conversation with Madame Choi.

She hinted towards something about Yunho's past, the strained relationship he had with his relatives clawing for the title of heir.

In an act of support, you reach and grab his shaking hand, taking it away from digging itself in him and interlocking fingers with his own. 

It was your way of telling him you were here. That you were listening. 

“I’ve always had people close to me try to take pieces of my life like it was just… up for claiming,” he says, more factually than bitter. “And I learned early that no one is really what they look like from the outside. Not completely.”

Panic settles in as you worry he's caught on.

Instead, his eyes return to you now softer, shifting the weight away.

“I’m not telling you this because I’m perfect. I’m telling you because I’m not. No one is.”

A small breath leaves him, like he’s releasing something he’s held for too long. Yunho leans closer, careful with what comes next.

“Y’know, I think everyone is deserving of a bit of grace. To be given another chance. Even that stupid boy, Choi San, who won’t let me buy his grandparents company” he jokes flatly, gaze flickering over your face when you let out a small chuckle. 

He thinks he could crack a million more bad jokes if it means he’ll hear that sound again. 

Yunho pulls you much closer, his nose almost hitting your own as he refuses to let your strict self-judgment distort the image you carried of yourself.

“So if you feel out of place, like you’re an imposter in this world, let me tell you I’ve been doing the same all my life. I feel as though I’m living a lie every single fucking day” he mutters, the two of you sharing breaths now from the close proximity. 

Your breathing changes, feeling the warmth of his body close to your own. 

The billionaire’s voice softens, keeping it steady. 

“As someone who lies to live, and works among people who lie just as easily, I’ve learned to value authenticity. It’s not about what others think." he states.

"People will always see what they want to see anyway.”

Suddenly, his eyes flicker down to your soft lips, parting with a distinct type of desire. But he doesn’t kiss them just yet. 

“And what I see is a very bright…”

First, a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

“Very beautiful…”

A kiss to your nose.

And he stops in front of your lips before whispering softly. The truth he's starting to believe in more than his painstaking business deal.

“...very special woman.”

Silence fills the space between you, the sounds of the plane engine whirring as you look into the eyes of the man sitting in front of you.

Yunho releases a small breath when you lean forward to collide your lips with him, connecting your mouths in yearning and full vulnerability. The air in his lungs is knocked out, hungrily reaching and grabbing at each other just to feel the sensation of your lips connecting in undwindling passion. 

A squeeze and grope follow here and there with each other's bodies, tongues swirling with utter obsession.

Yunho immediately reciprocates your bold move by pulling your body closer to his, fighting a straining feeling that builds in the confines of his pants. It doesn’t feel like it’s enough for Yunho, so his two strong arms grip around your waist, pulling your lips apart momentarily in a surprised, breathy moan, as you’re now maneuvered to straddle thick, strong thighs. 

“I meant everything I said,” he whispers breathily, a large hand coming to stroke the back of your head softly as the other grazes your face so you look at him properly. 

“You are special."

An overwhelming sense of gratitude floods your emotions. You didn’t notice it at first, but fresh tears have escaped your eyes, coating your eyelashes as you look back at Yunho.

The older one brings a thumb to cascade over your wet cheeks. 

“C’mon now, don’t cry sweetheart” he grins softly, feeling the need to protect yet also tease the sight of you becoming all teary eyed and begging for his touch.

He presses a quick kiss back to your lips once more, pulling back to whisper tantalizingly into your year.

“You haven't even taken my cock yet.” 

That’s when you realize tears weren’t just dripping down your cheeks, but now also down your legs.

Yunho was determined to show just how hungry he was for you. Just how much he wanted to love you, to fuck you, to taste and share only the good things in life with the women he just met four days ago in a dingy convenience store on Hollywood Boulevard.

That night must've really changed both your lives.

Whimpers escape your throat as you attempt to taste Yunho’s devotion. Your knees struggle to support your body weight, keeping you hovering over his crotch with carefulness not to sit down on the aching mound just yet, though you’re curious of the sensation it'll bring.

Yunho lets his hands settle around your waist, grip firm as he releases tension you were holding on to, pulling apart to finally give you both some breath.

“C’mon sweetheart. You can sit on it.”

He was starving for a taste of you. 

“Yunho.”

Your breath hitches as his hands wander, pushing your thighs to relax and spread even more so your wet core settles over the gigantic mound of fabric hiding his leaking, hard cock. 

“Fuck,” he stutters, his breath tickling your neck and he inhaled your scent deeply. He was unstoppable, he just had to feel you. 

“I want you,” he mutters, coming out muffled against bare skin. “Want you so bad.” 

You were no different. Pawing at the buttons of his crisp white shirt that was becoming wrinkled with every passing second you gripped and released the material, finding something to hold on to as your hips rocked back and forth slowly, nudging your leaking bud against imposing layers. 

“Ah- Yunho-” you gasped, feeling him kiss the crook of your neck, his mouth growing wider and more insatiable as he trails further down, drool forming near the corners of his mouth. 

Never of you had been this needy before.

“You’ll let me have a taste, won’t you sweetheart?” he groans, letting a large hand smack the flesh of your ass covered by your dress. A whine rolls off your tongue, echoing in the quiet passenger cabin as you nod fervently, disoriented sounds leaving you while clutching onto his shoulders to keep your soaking cunt attached to his pants. 

Yunho brings a hand to slide over your shivering bare thighs, exposed to the cool air because of the small leg slit you had on the side of your dress. With every touch, the slit stretches wider in your position, making you weak to the billionaire’s greed. 

He grits his teeth, staring at your breathless expression when he shoves your lace panties to the side and lets the long digits of his index, middle and ring finger slide against the slick of your cunt. 

“Jesus, you’re fucking soaked.” he grunts, throwing his head back as his digits do all the work in opening you up for him. Then all at once, he dives all three in, stretching you out perfectly like no had ever done before.

You scream, overwhelmed by how full you already feel with his two thick fingers. 

“Oh p-pleaseee- fuck! s’too much Yunho!” you pant like a whore, making him stretch his fingers even wider to feel you suck him in so lewdly. 

“Slow down—” 

“Do you feel how deep I am, sweetheart?” he cuts you off, his hips jutting up so he too can achieve some sort of relief. You notice, a hand reaching down, traveling through the tight web of limbs help him by laying your palm over his hardness. Just a simple touch and—

“Hands off.” Yunho quickly orders, bringing your hand away as he holds onto your wrist tightly. 

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” he scolds, his business tone coming out as he orders you to only take his fingers, planning to save his cock for the one thing he wants most:

Your swollen, puffy cunt.

It’s incredibly unfair, how helpless you feel as his right hand pummels his digits faster into your hole, the sound of filthy squelching noises filling the room as he doesn’t even mind your cries of ecstasy.

“How many d’you think I’ve got inside you, hm?” he toys with you, getting off on your shaking body and quivering nub like the perverted CEO he was. You can’t even answer from the moans you’re releasing.

And here you thought Yunho was going to fuck you gently after all that talking. 

“Fucking tight,” a breath escapes his lips without even knowing.

You squirmed, eyes squeezing shut.

It seems as though there’s been a huge misunderstanding on the type of man Yunho was.

The businessman won’t waste time treating you like the queen you were— showering you with gifts, bags, clothes, and jewelry that can make you start to think he wants to put a ring on you and have you carry his babies. 

Which, with the way you’re taking him right now— quivering and crying out his name in broken little whimpers, even as his wrist starts to ache from how long he's been bullying his fingers in and out— he’s starting to genuinely consider it.

But you’ve been expertly deceived.

Yunho isn’t a gentleman. He’s one sick, obsessed bastard that longs to touch, finger, and fuck your gummy walls to a state of complete ecstasy.

“I… I really can’t hold on much longer—”

He loves that. Loves that you’re broken down to a mess of slick and sweat like this. He latches his mouth back onto yours as he feels you clench harder with every passing minute around his digits. 

“Gonna cum for me? My sweet, sweet girl is gonna cum?- hah fuck-” he coos, holding back and focusing on making you spill first.

He was almost there. He just needed to make you cum first and prep you real good so you could take him raw. 

“Yes Yes fuck- ngh Yes, Yunho–” you sobbed, too overstimulated to say anything else. Yunho releases the wrist he’s been holding onto since before, letting his hand come up to swipe some spit from his mouth before he shoves his wet fingers into the open cleavage of your dress, thumbing your sensitive tits with his drool.

Oh god, now he’s really done it.

“Cum for me, sweetheart.” he grunts in one final thrust.

That’s what sends you over the edge completely, shoving your cries and open mouth moans into the fabric of Yunho’s dress shirt, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as your body convulses from the intense orgasm. Soft praises reach the shell of your ear.

“Look at you..” He coos proudly, kissing you gently on your cheek.

“Took my fingers like a fucking champ.”

You wince at the sudden emptiness as he pulls out, despite him trying to slide his fingers slowly for your sake. 

You lean back to watch the man with tired eyes, feeling a shiver run down your spine as Yunho maintains full eye contact while bringing his tongue out to lick at your slick. Closing his eyes and groaning pathetically at how sweet you tasted.

“Fucking pervert,” you exhaled, ignoring the deep laughs proudly leaving the CEO’s sweaty chest under his unbuttoned dress shirt.

It’s not long before the rest of the buttons are opened, revealing his toned chest as the top of your dress gets shoved down to spill out your soft tits for Yunho to latch on to. 

“Yunho!” you reply in shock, not realizing how fast he was going to dive into them. “Slow down!”

“But I’m in love with your tits.” he confesses though it comes out muffled. As if justifying his hunger.

You’re still straddling Yunho’s thighs, though now, you’re in an awkward stage of being partially naked, partially clothed, with only the essential barriers out of the way for you to take his cock properly now. 

He unbuckles his pants to free his member, letting the long, girthy tip slap you against your abdomen as your dress has become ruined with the way it’s scrunched so high to reveal your ass completely. 

Yunho takes a hold of his shaft and pumps himself a couple times. You watch him as he does so, a spark shared between you two just as he taps his tip against your puffy folds. He’s ridiculously proud of the way he’s prepped you so well for him. 

“Ready?” he stills, taking a moment to hold back from the obsession to really make sure you wanted this. Wanted him. 

You nod, grinning softly. 

Long forgotten is the conversation you were going to have with him about your past. Now replaced with a bodily confession that was more important to you and him right now. 

You figure you’ll tell him later…

“Just take me, Yunho,” you pleaded softly.

He smiles, kissing you again as he finally swats his cock in between the leaky opening.

All at once, you feel his incredible girth that you were waiting for this whole time, stretching you out, and throwing your head back as far as it would go.

You nod, eyes clasped shut at the delicious feeling you craved. No one could fuck you this good again. 

“F-Fuuck, gorgeous…” 

Yunho keeps his strokes against your pulsating walls slowly but so precisely it drives you to the brink of insanity. And yet, he can’t seem to stop watching you in awe the entire time. The way you let out soft screams when he hits so deep, right in the perfect spot. The way your hair is let loose, messy and free while your back arches so sinfully yet beautifully. 

Your body felt holy. A temple for him to worship.

And he's purring in your ear, telling you how good you are to him, how well you're taking his fingers and how beautiful you look taking them

The squelching sound from before comes back, even louder this time as it accompanies each skilful pump of Yunho’s cock instead of his fingers. 

As you’re babbling upon his sheer length, Yunho clasps onto one side of your hips. Using the rest of the energy and strength he has in him, he helps you bounce on his dick, riding your godforsaken high through the shaking of your thighs. 

You squeeze around him, making him curse wildly. It’s enough to also whimper from the stinging feeling that comes back each time. 

“Please—”

You tense, feeling a familiar feeling creeping up on you.

“Please what?” He held firm even as you glared weak little daggers down at his face, looking up with his shirt open and a burning desire behind wild eyes. 

“Yunho I’m not kidding, I’m g-gonna–”

He’s too distracted, too lost in the intoxicating sight of his cock drilling through your hole, having not taken his eyes from where you were connected. He already knows what you mean. How close you were to finishing. So he changes his pace, rutting relentlessly, hips snapping harder as he chases the view of your tits shaking in his face, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck—yes.”

“Gonna cum?” He asks with baited breath. “Gonna let loose for me, my love?

You just whine, crying and bouncing and nodding and nodding because that was all you were capable of doing right then and there.

In a complete mess of sweaty limbs and hot, flushing cum, you both reach your pinacles. The pace turns slower, enough for you to hug Yunho closer and whisper words of chastisement for how rough he was with you. When Yunho calmly kisses you and asks if it was too much though, you can’t help but shake your head and sink your pussy deeper, showing him that you still loved every second of it. 

Just as he’s about to grab a tissue from nearby and clean you up, a soft bleep of the intercom echoes a slightly discomforted voice, stilling only Yunho’s body who has enough consciousness to register the current situation. You're too far gone, using a small remaining amount of energy to grip onto the fabric of his shirt for dear life.

“Um—Mr. Jeong,” the pilot’s voice crackles awkwardly through the speaker, followed by a brief pause that feels far too long to be professional. 

“We’ll be arriving at the hotel in about ten minutes, so I, uh…” another cough. “I ask that you please observe the seatbelt sign and fasten your seatbelts as we prepare for landing.”

A beat passes, raising your head to look drowsily up at Yunho when you hear a much quieter, comment from the pilot: 

“And—um. My apologies for the interruption.”

A small smile creeps upon your tired face, relief washing over you as Yunho holds you close and reassures you.

“Don’t move. I’ll take care of you.”

The promise sounds as soft as he’s ever been. He leans forward and grabs a glass of water for you to take a quick sip from, followed by a cloth to clean your slick.

“I’ll give you everything, all the money I have,” Yunho mutters in a state of hypnosis, eyes glistening as he looks down at you lying against his chest so peacefully.

You wonder if your ears deceive you when you hear a quiet plea that borders on begging.

“Just stay with me longer…” 

The last thing you remember is warmth.

And releasing a soft “Okay”.

When you come back to your senses, you find yourself stirring awake in a large, familiar bed, a vast cold area of mattress greeting you from beside. The empty sheets of cotton and silk surround you with a bare feeling of comfort as you squint at the clock on the bedside table. 

Four am. And Yunho was nowhere in sight. 

Your bare body shivers as you sit up and the covers fall down, exposing you to the empty room. Your head spins a little, probably from all the drinks you had earlier in the plane.

The plane.

Suddenly, it comes rushing back, the events that happened on the jet. Yunho’s confession — his way of telling you that you didn’t need to feel ashamed of yourself to him. The way you were going to tell him about your past and the reasons that led you to this point. 

And then the sex.

Your core almost tingles at the memory with Yunho. Fucking you so good you passed out unconscious. 

Sighing as you rubbed your temples, you reach for the nearest piece of fabric that could warm you up— his navy robe that sits on a chair nearby. 

The soft material weighs you down, it's sleeves clearly too big for you but not minding much as you step over the soft, carpeted hotel floor. When you shuffle out of the room and down the steps to the first floor, the wide city view through the windows captures endless buildings glowing against the night, showing a city that never seemed to need sleep at all.

Quite similar to someone you trying to find. 

As if on cue, your body does a little jump back in surprise when you turn and catch Yunho leaning against the marble countertop of the open kitchen, bare chested as a pair of blue gingham pajama pants hung low on his waist. 

“Jesus!” you muttered, squinting when you saw the tall man turn with what appeared to be a tub of half-eaten vanilla ice cream. The metal spoon was warm in his hands from grasping it for so long. 

“Did I wake you?” Yunho replies calmly, paying you no mind.

“I’m sorry,” he coos, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. 

You sigh, gently paddling over cold tiles as your hands reach and grasp the ice cream like it was yours. You inspect the container, brows quirking.

Yunho lets you do as you please, as if everything belonged to you. 

You sigh as the chilling taste of creamy rich vanilla hits your mouth, using his spoon to dig a shallow crevice in the melted dessert and feed on it. 

“You didn’t wake me…” you pointed out, feeling the man dip his head into the crook of your neck and leave kisses all along the area. You shivered from his cold lips.

“What are you doing up so late?” You asked, enjoying your ice cream whilst Yunho enjoyed you, inhaling your soft scent once more.

“You seemed so peaceful, I didn’t wanna disturb you” he mumbled. You smile quietly to yourself, realizing how this big, intimidating CEO of a powerful business corporation could easily mimic a lost puppy just by being in your presence.

“Yeah right. You probably just wanted this whole tub for yourself.” you muttered, feeling his lips turn upwards against your skin. 

Yunho raises his head to face you properly, caressing your face as he focuses on your features. You swallow carefully as you ask the next question.

“What happened after we landed?” 

His face is illuminated by moonlight. Yunho’s lips slowly grinned at the memory. “I cleaned you up, buckled you in, and we landed on the rooftop of the hotel where I brought you to my room to rest” he stated, bringing his right thumb to brush away the corner of your mouth as ice cream was left smeared. He brings it to his mouth, sucking the sweetness without breaking eye contact.

“Was I too much?” He can’t help but ask with caution, leveling with you as he gazes deep into your eyes. A look of concern flashes over his face. 

You shook your head, amused by his protectiveness. He brings his arms to connect around your waist, hugging you closer to inspect the hickies littered all over your neck. He almost gets hard again from the sight and hearing your answer at the same time.

“Nope. I liked it” you assured him, whispering seductively to his ear.

You break into laughter as Yunho playfully tickles the sides of your body in response. 

To be fair, your hickies weren’t that bad compared to his shoulder and back muscles left with various bites and scratches. Lingering evidence of hanging onto Yunho as he fucked you so well.

“Of course you did.” he sneers at you proudly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips as you swallow a bite of cream. 

You both taste incredibly sweet, and you fear it’s not just from the sugar. 

“Yunho..” you began as you pulled away, watching his eyes narrow in on your lips as he leaned forward in greed of another kiss. You stopped him as you put the ice cream container down the counter and rested your hands against his bare chest.

“Did you mean what you said on the plane?”

His eyes soften. 

“Of course I did. I think you’re a very spec—”

“—Not just about me. But about wanting me to stay… longer?” you drawled out carefully, looking up at him for an explanation.

Yunho pauses for a moment.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” you confess, breaking a wonderful illusion with realistic questions you knew you couldn’t just ignore.

Yunho furrows his brows.

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” he says, scanning your expression. 

When you look down, refusing to meet his eyes, Yunho gently hoists you up to sit on the counter, coming closer to look at you as his hands lean against the kitchen countertop and cage you in. 

“Talk to me, sweetheart” he pleads, his tone gentle and calm.

You inhale once and exhale quietly, waiting with baited breath to think of how you wanted to say this. 

You slosh the spoon around in the tub of melted ice cream beside you, searching for a distraction.

“I really don’t think I belong here,” you uttered softly, reality hitting you. 

Your thoughts are elsewhere—back to the history of judgement and outcasting you’ve experienced from so many people when they found out you were formerly a stripper.

How easily affection can be conditional.

Like the moment they all learned the truth, you stopped becoming human and started becoming temporary. Disposable. Something to indulge in quietly, then look down on openly.

Your own family, friends back home, even previous partners as well.

The worst thing about it was that they’re right. In their eyes, how could you not be easily discarded?

You believe Yunho would eventually think the same as well.

Cause at the end of the day, all you were was an escort that was paid for the sum of four days, just to provide him with company and sex that was hidden in various contract terms, that could never actually amount to more than what was agreed upon. 

He stills, as if he can listen to what you were thinking.

“But I think you’re exactly where you should be,” he says with such certainty. 

Your heart clenches from looking up and seeing Yunho continuously shower you with this endless affection you didn’t deserve. 

In habit, you begin to deny him first for your own sake. Refusing to get your hopes up as you tried to pull the billionaire from the outrageous idea. 

“I’m not,” you swallowed back, shaking your head. “I-I’m really not because if you realized what I’ve done, Yunho, you’d feel disgusted like any other-”

“Why should it matter where either of us are from or what we’ve done?” he protests, not holding back. 

“We’re together now, aren’t we?”

You exhale uncomfortably from his words. Probably because you know he’s being so sincere with you like he's always been, even when you haven’t done the same with him. 

Yunho takes the ice cream carton from out of your hand, placing it gently on the counter and slotting his body in between your spread thighs. You gasp, flinching when the cold marble comes in contact with your skin.

“I’ll prove it to you.”

It's not long before Yunho is eating you out, bare ass against his kitchen counter, grabbing onto cold marble for support as his jaw opens and closes with feverish tasting.

The conversation can’t slip away like this again!… you plead, brain fogging as Yunho presses compliments against the skin of your thighs.

“Don't bring yourself down, love.”

He pulls back, smooth, strong chest rising and falling as he captures the image of you spread out for him, moonlight catching on your wet, shiny bud as he gathers something in his mouth.

You jump when a forceful contact hits your sensitive mound.

Yunho just spit a dollop of saliva onto your pussy, watching with baited breath and pure obsession as it drips down your slit and into the deeper crevice. He shudders when your hole instinctively sucks it in.

Fucking. Hell.

“Yunho...” you muttered with a firmer voice, trying not to let your temptations distract you from what you’ve been meaning to tell him. 

If he has to hear the truth, it needs to come from out of your own mouth.

A faint ringing noise echoes from across the marble counter, a corded telephone echoing as a call comes through.

You look up, neck straining as you question the ringing so early in the morning.

“S’fine. Probably just front desk” he hushes, closing his eyes as he laps up your juices, his arms bulging as he grips your thighs open to prevent them from closing.

“Shouldn’t you answer it still?” you squirmed, moaning as Yunho shook his head, causing his sharp nose to brush against your nub too.

“Nope.” he mumbles, utterly lost in between your legs. It just doesn't sit right with you still.

“YUNHO” you breathed out loudly, finding the strength to push him back and grasp his wet chin, staring back at pussy-drunk eyes. 

“I think you should answer it” you huff firmly, growing weak when he sighs and pecks you on the mouth, sharing the taste of slick.

With a groan, his long upper body reaches for the phone, picking it up as he presses one last chaste kiss to your lips, sliding his hand on your spread thighs to grope you in the ass.

You slap him hard, yelping as he smirks evilly and brings the receiver to his ear.

“Jeong Yunho speaking”, eyes never leaving your own as he continues to kiss your legs. 

You shuffle, biting your lips at the ticklish feeling, unaware of the storm waiting on the other end of the line.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

It was his lawyer, Patrick. And he sure didn’t sound as happy Yunho was at the moment.

“Busy” he hums, continuing to tickle you with his obnoxious kisses. 

You scold him, softening when he intertwines his hand with your own.

“I can tell.” His lawyer’s voice comes out flat, hiding a grim, menacing tone. Papers shuffle aggressively through the speaker. 

“Tell me something, Yunho—was this weekend supposed to secure the Marinex corporation, or was it supposed to become a vacation?”

Patrick has finally earned his attention because Yunho’s expression immediately cools. 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Patrick says bluntly. “You skip one of the most important acquisition meetings this quarter, leave the Choi family sitting there questioning whether you’re capable of rebuilding their company, and suddenly nobody can get a hold of you.”

Your smile leaves as you watch his expression fade, clutching Yunho’s robe closer to your body.

The CEO straightens slightly, forgetting his playful demeanor and replacing it with his business side he had coexisted with for all of his adult life. 

“I’ve talked to their grandson,” he argues. “The contract wasn’t finalized because of hesitation on Mr. Choi’s part, not because of me. I clearly pushed the agenda that we could rebuild his family's company and remake it into something triple the price he was offering–”

“No, Yunho” Patrick cuts him off coldly. “His grandmother made him hesitate because they think you’ve become distracted.”

A tense silence follows. 

“And we both know why.”

Yunho’s jaw tightens.

“It’s because of that girl, isn’t it?” Patrick mocks condescendingly into the phone. 

His eyes flick toward you instinctively. You stare back, a lump forming in your throat.

“Patrick,” he warns quietly, jaw clenching. But his lawyer continues.

“Well guess what? While you were off playing with your playboy bunny in Beverly Hills, the Choi family did their own digging.”

Yunho’s grip on the phone stiffens. 

“And I think you’re going to want to see what they found.” With a sigh, Patrick leans into his office chair and lights a cigarette while speaking into the phone.

“I sent a package to your suite and had them leave it on your kitchen counter.”

His eyes dart toward the thick brown file that’s gone unnoticed, sitting by itself on the edge across from you both. 

Your eyes slowly followed, grasping Yunho’s arm carefully as an ominous feeling fell upon the room. 

“Yunho, what is it?”

He leans forward and turns the cover.

The moment he opens the file, the air leaves the room. Photographs stare back at him instantly.

You beneath neon lights. Onstage. Lines of white powder served on your chest. Contorted into a vision of pure sex for hungry clients to see. 

Patrick puffs out a cloud of smoke as his voice lowers. 

“She’s a stripper, Yunho. You paid eight grand to let some washed up, crack-whore stripper spend the weekend with you.” Patrick snickers, venom laced in his voice. 

It all comes crashing down in an instant.

Because no matter how warm Yunho had made you feel, the truth of who you were finally followed you here too.

And suddenly, you feel so entirely exposed. Even while wearing a robe with his initials on it.

The carton of sticky vanilla ice cream somehow becomes spilled upon the marble countertops, leaving one giant mess.

At least this one could be solved. Your’s was a bit more complicated to say.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Yunho states quietly, calling out your name. 

It’s frightening how calm he is. Not a single expression of disgust, resentment or anger building upon his face despite knowing how badly he must want to throw those awful photos in your direction.

Yunho would never. He’s too good for that. 

His question cuts deeper than it should. Typically, you would have retaliated with a bit more emotion. Confess with tears and beg for forgiveness as you explained your reasons. 

Instead, your laugh comes out hollow. This was the end of your contract either way. 

“Would you have looked at me the same if I did?”

His brows pull together immediately. “That’s not what I asked—”

“You didn’t know,” you interrupt, stepping back from him. “That’s the only reason any of this worked.”

Yunho exhales sharply, rubbing a hand across his jaw as the remaining pressure from the call still hangs over him like smoke. 

Patrick's quiet threat was more than just targeted to you. His words also held importance to that fact that if Yunho wanted to secure his highly expensive grand scheme of business relations he’s been building upon since his parent’s death — particularly by avoiding a news scandal with a former stripper— he would have to pull himself together and take care of his image with Marinex corporation first, as they had the upper hand in this case. And that meant surrendering to the Choi's.

“You liked me because you thought I could help you play it safe.” you fought back. "To relieve your needs and make you feel better."

“This isn’t about that.”

You look at him in disbelief. “Then what is it about?”

“The Marinex deal has completely fallen apart,” he says, frustration finally slipping into his tone. “Patrick’s losing his mind, the board’s probably already heard about this, someone has been investigating you, and now that bastard San is probably reveling in the fact that he’s gotten the best piece of dirt on me to give the press if I don’t—”

“So I'm the dirt.” you realize.

Yunho’s expression shifts slightly. The room falls silent again.

He sighs, rubbing his face as he retracts his words. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Yes, it is,” you mutter. “You’re just trying not to say it directly. Just admit it Yunho. I fucked it all up. Your business deal, your family image–”

“Fuck the image!” he barks as he steps towards you abruptly. “If anything, I want to know exactly why you hid this from me.” His eyes widening as he grasps your wrist.

“Clearly you’ve debated telling me even before I asked about your past, meanwhile I told you my own fucked up story with complete truth” he breathes heavily.

“When you told me you ‘danced’ —jesus christ— I thought it meant at parties or events!” Yunho states in disbelief.

“Well that’s not exactly a lie, Yunho.” you spit back, tears forming in your eyes. 

“I did dance. I just did it in heavy ass stripper heels and not pointe shoes.” you snapped, standing straight as you walked closer to his face. It’s dangerous how much he’s letting you run your mouth at him. 

“Why? Does that turn you off?” you challenged. “Do I make you disgusted? As if you’ve I’m used goods?” you plaster on a fake smirk as painful tears release from your eyes.

The vein on the side of Yunho’s neck bulges as he clenches his jaw, hands coming to rest on his hips as warns you in a tone you’ve never heard him use before. 

“Stop that. You can be a real piece of work when you’re angry, you know that?” he snaps, voice sharp enough to cut through the glass window of the city skyline. Slivers of gold and orange dance around the nightly blue as dawn begins to break, signaling the day has only just begun.

Yunho’s chest rises as he stares at you, confliction flashing across his face before frustration wins again.

“You think this is about me being disgusted?” Yunho breaks bitterly, dragging a hand through his hair. “You really think that’s the part I care about?”

“Well what else could it fucking be?” you fire back immediately.

“It’s the fact that you never trusted me enough to tell me the truth!”

The room falls silent with thick tension. You even have to look away for a moment, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. 

When you begin to understand how Yunho feels, a wave of indignation washes it back.

“Do you think it was easy for me?” You grit as you turn your head back. “The times I felt like I had to be someone else just to be in the room with you?” you raised your voice, fresh hot tears streaming down your face. 

The CEO blinks softly, guilt filling his chest. 

You shake your head, walking away from the conversation and towards the bedroom to retrieve your things. You’ve had enough of Beverly Hills and stupid high society.

But Yunho still follows, hot on your trail. 

“No. I never wanted you to change. I wanted you. And if I ever made you feel that way…” he begins, clenching his fists as he owns up to his mistake.

“I’m sorry.” he apologized, wanting you to look at him. But you couldn’t handle his apology, nor the painful fact that it came so easily for him. That unlike any other partners you’ve previously had, Yunho was the first to chase you after hearing you were a stripper, providing the bare minimum and more. 

With embarrassment, anger, and your dignity on the line, you rush to grab your items, looking for the worn out bag you arrived here with and ignoring the boxes of luxury clothes and shoes Yunho gifted you this weekend.

“Listen to me” he states, frantically calling for your name to set the record straight, 

“I’m not angry because you’re a stripper. I’m disappointed because you lied.” he emphasizes, using a tone of voice that makes you want to barf from how grown-up it is. 

Perhaps it was also because secretly, deep down in your heart, you know that what Yunho is saying is far more productive than the childish show you’re putting on right now, hiding and running away with embarrassment of getting caught. 

“You looked me in the eye and told me you were a dancer.” he states, pointing a finger at you as he lays down the facts. “You built a version of yourself just to keep me from seeing the real you.”

“Well, of fucking course!” you snap, voice cracking despite yourself. “Because this is what always happens! News flash, Yunho, this is LA. People lie here all the time. They sell whatever version of themselves they need just to claw their way higher up the chain.”

Your gaze hardens as you step closer to tell him.

“And I’ve seen you do the exact same thing.”

Yunho stiffens, towering over you as he watches you suddenly shove off the suffocating robe to change into your panties and underwear laying on the ground beside him. Not caring if you have to change in front of him mid-argument. 

If anything, the arguments just come hurdling back even stronger this time. 

“Well what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He presses, voice rising.

“Oh come on, Yunho. You think the corporate men of America are any different than what I did? That dancing naked is any different than the bullshit you put on everyday while pretending you’re doing something noble and important? You screw people over for their money! You’re a capitalist dickface that attacks smaller businesses!” 

“If you even understood a fraction of the things I’m responsible for — the companies that depend on my management of their shares, the people that work for me—“

“ —And I would know because I was one of them.”

A look of hurt flashes across his face. 

“You meant more than that.” He responds quietly.

You bite down on your lip, scoffing. 

“If I meant more than that then why are you angry at yourself then? Why are you holding back on the blame you want to put on me for ruining your deal and for scandalizing your entrepreneur image?” You’ve reached a tipping point. A point where you find yourself spiraling with anger and resentment at both Yunho and yourself. 

“Just admit it, Yunho. I’m disgraceful. I’m the one who’s embarrassing. A liar for trying to survive in a world that was always meant for people like you.” 

His voice is strict, calling for your name to slow down and listen to his words but you don’t.

Your bra strap snaps against your skin as you adjust it aggressively, looking around before snatching a random slip-on dress from the pile of clothing to wear as you collect your bag and leave the room in a hurry.

Shouts of your name echo again.

Yunho rushes behind, taking far fewer strides than yourself to keep up with the pace. 

“I get that you think there's a difference between someone like me and you. That there are different titles we are associated with in society.” he says as you roll your eyes.

“But that’s not what I saw during the time we spent together. I always tried to treat you equally.” he points out. 

“I told you things. Things I’ve never told anyone else. You made me feel like I could trust you. But then I find out you’ve been keeping this part of you locked up like it’s something ugly. Like you’re something ugly—“

“Because I am, Yunho! What is the point? That I took my clothes off for money before I ever let you touch me? That I didn’t fit the fantasy?” 

He runs his hands through his hair, trying to reason with you through gritted teeth. “I’m telling you I don’t fucking care about a fantasy! I care about you. Your safety, and the fact that you looked me in the eye and didn’t trust me with the truth. That I’m just one more guy you had to perform for.”

You exhale with a shaky breath. How could you tell him right here that that was the problem. He’s turned into someone with far more value than the guys of your past. It was too much to imagine how he’d react to that piece of news in this situation as well.

Shaking your head as you walk away overwhelmed from the conversation, a hand suddenly reaches out and grabs you with a solid grip. Yunho pulls you to look at his face properly, practically seething as frustration wears his serious expression down. 

“When someone older speaks to you, you listen, do you understand?” he mutters quietly, holding firm but not hurting you. 

You look up stunned. Your throat tightens, tears threatening to spill as you immediately throw his hands off of you.

“You don’t get to act as betrayed as you are right now. You have no idea what people become the second they hear what I was.”

Yunho’s expression hardens, but not in anger this time.

“And you decided I’d become one of them before even giving me the chance not to.”

You can see the conflict in his face now—the exhaustion, the pressure, the disbelief at everything unraveling all at once. But instead of comforting you, the hesitation only confirms your fears.

Your chest tightens painfully. Sighing as the hot, molten anger melts to reveal the cold truth you always come back to after surviving in this world and by forgetting your fairytale books.

“You paid for four days, Yunho.” you force a sore voice out. 

“That was all this was ever supposed to be.”

His eyes slightly widen in alarm when you throw the towel into the ring. 

“Don’t say it like that. Don't do what I think–”

“But that's exactly it, Yunho. I’m not gonna do anything.” you say, straightening the strap of your bag on your shoulder as you turn. You reach for the door handle despite his calls of your name. 

“We’re not done with this conversation!” he swears, eyes glistening as he holds back tears in panic. But you ignore it all.

“You know the worst part?” you begin, voice breaking as you finally tell him through quiet sobs. 

“I really did want to tell you. A hundred times, I really did. And I’m sorry Yunho, but every time I looked at you… I panicked.” 

“Why?” Yunho immediately asks as he walks further, tears falling as the stupid facades you’ve both put up with now crumble. “Fear of money? Of being disposed of?” He answers, guilt shooting through his heart at the flawed way he’d been living. The companies he's broken down. The people he’s cornered for their titles and shares. 

Money meant nothing to him anymore. Not if you were threatening to leave.

But it wasn’t any of those things.

“It’s because you started to make me think I wasn’t disposable.” you responded back, staring at the man in front of you. Your expression softens. 

“I don’t know how to be someone who gets chosen, Yunho, because being chosen doesn’t last forever. You could spend the rest of this month with me and still find that you grow tired of me, and things would fall apart just as easily as this contract was formed.” you predicted through bitter tears.

Then why don't you let me choose you forever? Yunho asks himself. 

In reality, he should’ve said it out loud to you, but he too was clouded with fear. Fear of moving too fast. Of being too sudden and scaring you with a hasty decision that didn't read the room or considered you.

Your body moves first, inching closer to the door.

He calls your name firmly, trying to stop you. For a second, you almost do. But looking back to see Yunho standing with his hands by his side — revealing momentary hesitation, as if contemplating what move he should make next — that tiny moment of hesitation makes your heart sink completely. 

So you walk past him, rushing a goodbye and leaving the penthouse in silence as Yunho remains the only one standing.

Alone. Back to how it was before you entered his life.

LA was one of the stranger places to call home. 

It wasn’t always welcoming, but it wasn’t completely foreign either. Years of survival had changed the bright-eyed, determined young woman you were when you first arrived, to slowly adapt to the fast-paced life that brought more disappointments than fairytale stories. 

Perhaps that’s why you felt the need to cut your story so short. For a city filled with people chasing dreams so desperately, it was important to know when things have gotten out of hand. 

Back in your run down flat shared with your roommate Miko, you realize how long four days can feel when you've been away.

Her cheerful greeting dies down when she sees blotchy eyes and your front lip quivering as you barely make it through the front entrance, holding only your run down bag in hand, pockets empty of any type of money or compensation.

You left the gifts back at the penthouse. You couldn’t bring yourself to take anything that would remind you of what happened.

“Oh, honey…” your roommate hesitates, carefully coming to catch you as you collapse onto your knees when the door closes. The stream of tears follows quickly.

“I left him...” you mumbled softly in choked cries.

Your best friend reassures your heartbreaking sobs by patting your back in slow beats, shushing you despite your eyes continuing to water and seep into the old t-shirt she woke up in. 

“It’s okay, honey” she softly mutters, not having to ask too many questions to know why you were in such a state. She takes a quick inhale and sighs, trying her best to convince you. 

“Everything will be okay.”

But you couldn’t find the courage to imagine it would be. How could it? When you feel as though you’ve made a sacrifice for Yunho — to better his life and free him of your messy past — that puts your own affection and liking for him on the line. 

“But you don't get it, I left him, Miko” you hiccuped, eyes puffy as you pulled back to emphasize the word to her face. “I was the one that couldn’t stay after seeing him react to my past. If only you saw the look on his face, fuck- h-how shocked he looked and how tired I felt of feeling like I was in the wrong to have stepped into his life and–”

“Hey, shhhh. It’s okay.” Miko tries her best to calm you down, carefully helping you up from the floor and guiding you toward the couch with peeling leather cushions. She wraps a blanket around you, the one you both stole from a laundromat months ago because neither of you could afford heating.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” she asks with a pointed look.

You shake your head immediately, watching as she doesn’t change her expression. Then you nod, breaking slowly once again.

“He looked at me like…” Your throat tightens.

“Like he wanted me to stay.”

“Then why didn’t you?” your roommate asks utterly bewildered, brows pulling together slightly.  “I thought everything was going amazing?”

“His lawyer told him about me being a stripper. He beat me to it. And once the conversation started, I realized how much of his life could change because of the picture I painted for him. Of someone who definitely didn’t belong in his world,” you recalled painfully. 

Miko pulls back. 

“But did you stop to think how much your life changed after meeting him? The positive things that came out from the both of you being in this relationship?” 

"There was no relationship. It was just business." you say sounding like you were trying to convince yourself more.

You raise your head to look at her crossed arms. Your roommate's image defensive as she sighs with a shake to her head.

“Listen carefully babe. What I’m trying to say is that careers are able to be rebuilt. Money ultimately comes and goes. But that connection? The one you told me over the phone that you shared with him? The way you said he looks at you? Now that doesn’t just come from nowhere.” 

She helps you recognize that regardless of what happened towards the end, the past four days with Yunho had to have meant more than just business to the both of you. Especially with the way Kumiko thinks Yunho was trying to hold on to you based on your retelling.

“He still hesitated.” You dismissed her. “It was only for a second, but I-I knew what that look could mean–” 

Your roommate sighs in response, rubbing her temples at your somewhat hasty and stupid actions.

Your cries of frustration come out miserable. “Okay whatever! I know how it sounds like because normal people hesitate all the time, right? But with him, Miko…” You wipe harshly at your face, reminding yourself that Yunho hardly ever hesitates.

"He probably felt the exact way I predicted he would feel towards me. Regret. I just couldn’t stand it staying there and waiting for his say on anything else. If I was actually 100% worth choosing or not.”

Miko’s judgement softens as she raises her brows.

“Well damn.”

A breath escapes you, leaning back against the seat as you shut your eyes in fatigue. 

Miko eventually reaches over to tuck your hair behind your ear, the same way she used to after exhausting late-night shifts when the two of you would stumble home with aching feet. Her voice is smooth. “For someone terrifying enough to make grown men cry, he sure made you cry a lot too.”

“It feels exhausting...” you responded, biting the inside of your mouth.

“But…” She emphasizes, glancing toward the apartment window that reveals early morning sunlight to peeking through.

“Isn’t that what love is?” she tells you, making you open your eyes to look at her properly.

“You loved him. I can tell because it's written all over your face and explained through the way you acted.”

The ache in your chest sharpens instantly.

Loved. Past tense.

You don’t want to correct her. You find it would be easier to just shut out the part of yourself that repeats perhaps you still do love Yunho.

The rest of the morning is taken to lay around at home, swallowing down all your emotions and thoughts of regret by rummaging through the kitchen cabinets, hoping to find some sort of leftover alcohol to help. Kumiko warns you about daytime drinking, but she decides to leave you in peace as she heads off to her day job.

“Listen, I know you’re wallowing in your pain right now, and I completely support it, but I left Hime with the skinny convenience store kid for him to watch when I was gone.” she confesses, putting in her left earring as she shows up in her waitress outfit. 

You stop rummaging through the pantry and look up in her direction at the mention of the scrawny black cat. 

“Will you do me one favour and pick her up? The kid's probably done with his night shift about now.” she comments hesitantly, looking at her watch.

Through the pile of food items, you barely manage to shove a weak thumbs up in her direction, saying nothing more as you can’t find the energy to do so.

All you can do is sigh, standing up properly to grab a t-shirt from your room to change into. Kumiko rushes over and hugs you from behind as you walk, trying to cheer you up in her usual, clingy fashion.

“Thank you, I literally love you and promise to bring leftovers for you on the way back.” she says, knowing that it was a usual routine of yours that always made you feel a bit better. Yet still, her expression falters when she sees you're unable to give a full smile.

“Give it time, honey” she pats your back, wishing you rest.

"Give him some time too."

She hands over the keys and wipes a few stray tears from your puffy eyes when you mumble back unconvinced.

“I highly doubt it.”

The fluorescent lights flicker overhead as you wander through half-empty aisles in the dingy convenience store on Hollywood Boulevard, exhaustion still sitting heavy in your chest from the breakup hours earlier. 

It’s unusual to find yourself here so early. Usually you’re visiting during midnight hours, when you’ve finished your night shifts.

Just outside, the city of LA has barely awakened. Police sirens echo somewhere in the distance while the sky hangs in that pretty orange-blue color with a smell of burnt coffee and cheap cigarettes lingering in the air.

It’s funny, you think as you grab the cheapest can of beer out of the back fridges. Out of all the places you could’ve gone to after leaving Yunho, you ended up here— back where you first met him.

Your fingers curl around the metal can, the lukewarm aluminum far from cold enough for your liking as it brushes against your skin. Exhaustion drags through your limbs while you sluggishly make your way to the checkout counter, placing the single drink onto the table with a quiet clink.

“It’s not even noon, y'know," Timothy comments dryly, the teen boy yawning as he still helps you checkout. After pressing a few buttons on the cashier, he peers outside the window, looking out for the next employee to swap with him.

“Surprised you didn’t grab the half-priced milk this morning,” he comments, absentmindedly brushing through the dark fur of Hime as she sits atop the glass checkout counter, peacefully enjoying her final few minutes with him before his shift ends.

"Your cat practically hangs near the milk section every time she's here."

You shut your eyes, cursing quietly under your breath as a frustrated groan leaves you. With your chest still heavy from everything that happened this weekend, you realize you haven’t been paying attention to anything around you at all. Not even to the fact that you have to feed your cat, and not even when the bell hanging on the doors chimes, signaling another person has come in. 

“One second,” you mumble with your back to the part-timer, walking towards the half-priced refrigerated goods section to grab the carton you always purchased.

The fridge doors hum softly as you pull one open, leaning down as lukewarm air brushes against your flushed face instead of the cool chill you were waiting for.

“Seriously, you guys need to fix the thermostat in here or someth—”

The words die instantly in your throat the moment you straighten back up.

Because the moment you lift your gaze, a head of messy jet-black hair and a Burberry coat come into view near the register.

Your breath catches instantly.

Yunho’s hair is disheveled, strands falling messily over his forehead like he’d been dragging frustrated hands through it all morning. Dark circles bruising the skin beneath his eyes as exhaustion is written plainly across his face while his coat hangs off him carelessly.

The state of his eyes catch your attention the most. Red-rimmed and restless. Desperate in a way that makes your stomach turn.

You doubt you look much better yourself.

For a long moment, neither of you speak. The buzzing sounds of the fridge and freezer sections feel so deafening. But if anything, this hurts more than yelling ever could. To stand here in complete silence with someone who once knew almost nothing about you and now knows too much.

When your name leaves his mouth, you swallow hard, instinctively taking a step back until the refrigerator door presses cold against your spine.

“What are you doing here?” you ask in disbelief, though the question sounds far more accusatory than angry.

Yunho exhales heavily through his nose. “I caught your roommate before she left your apartment.” he responded, eyes never leaving yours for even a second. 

“She said I'd be able to find you here.”

You shut your eyes briefly, silently cursing your friend for being too honest for her own good.

Before he can answer, you hurry toward the checkout counter, desperately needing something else to focus on besides the look in his eyes. Your fingers fumble for a crumpled ten dollar bill before abruptly dropping the carton of milk onto the counter hard enough to make poor Hime jump at the vibration beneath her paws.

“Keep the change,” you mutter quickly, shoving the bill into Timothy’s hand before reaching over to gather Hime against your chest and collecting your purchases.

The feline lets out a small confused meow, Yunho stepping closer.

“Please, let me say something” he calls your name softly, shortening the distance and immediately making you set the drinks back down with a sharp clink. 

The cat watches in silence as she’s put down back onto the counter as well. 

“What is there even more to say, Yunho?” you retort back. “I’ve said everything I needed to and left your life so you could fix this mess I made and forget this even happened.” you break, reaching a tipping point when you remember the sacrifice you made to move on.

But for him to come back so quickly, to go out of his way to find you back here in this area of town makes it so much harder. 

“But I haven’t told you everything I wanted to say,” he argues firmly, brows furrowing as he walks closer. 

“I fired Patrick and canceled the Marinex deal,” he reveals.

When you ask him in utter disbelief why he did such a thing, his response only comes back even stronger with disposition.

“Because last night I held you in my arms while you told me you’d stay, and then this morning you disappeared like I imagined the entire thing up,” he recalls, his voice breaking at the edges now, disbelief bleeding into more raw, unguarded emotions.

“I realized I needed to get rid of the people that were in my way. The things that were preventing me from what I really wanted," he explained.

"Which is you.”

Your throat physically burns. “Well,” You bite back, clenching your fists. “Don’t you know people say things they don’t mean when they’re drunk and fucked until unconsciousness?”

The young cashier standing only a few feet away, blinks between the two of you awkwardly. Yunho doesn’t even spare him a glance, nor does he react to your attempt at deflection. Your sharpness and effort to maintain a distance is just absorbed quietly with unflinching patience.

“You're not allowed to erase us like that,” Yunho demands, steady despite everything he wants to say. “Because I remember exactly how you looked at me when you said it.”

Very slowly, Timothy sinks back behind the counter, giving you some space.

Your jaw tightens instantly, sighing loudly.

“Yunho, you can’t just—”

“No.” he repeats, firmer this time. “I’m not doing that again. I’m not leaving just because you’re scared. I spent the last few hours thinking about everything you said to me. Reanalyzing the past four days we spent together in this fucked up proposal I offered you where I exchanged your comfort and presence for money. And I realized what you said about LA was true. People sell pieces of themselves every single day just to survive. They lie. They cheat. They pretend to be things they’re not. I probably do it best. But you? All you did was survive without becoming cruel. You did what you had to do when nobody else was there to save you. And even after everything, I can't believe you can't even realize that you’re still kind. Still smart. Still brave in a way I don’t think you even understand.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a strained breath that sounds like pure awe laced with disbelief. "You do realize you threw yourself in front of an armed gunman for two other people, right?” he asks incredulously as he refers back to the first night you met.

Your mouth goes dry. Stunned silence makes you unable to retort back with any response this time. 

“So I’m telling you this for the last time because you deserve to know.” he says firmly.

“I don’t care that you used to strip. I don’t care who touched you before me or what job you have or what anybody else thinks they can call you. I don’t care who you had to become to survive before me. I care about who you are when nobody asks anything from you. The person you are now. I care that somewhere along the way, it somehow got into your pretty little head that surviving something difficult could make you any harder to love.”

Tears finally spill down your face. No one has ever looked at the ugliest parts of your life and treated them like wounds instead of evidence.

Yunho notices your expression crumble and immediately wraps his arms around you.

You never knew how meeting this man would’ve changed you. In front of him, you wanted to be the absolute best version of yourself. To please him in return for the gentle love he offered to you so easily and humbly. But now you understand it was because there was no extent to his affection for you. For someone you couldn’t imagine a future together if he found your secret past, he’s proved wrong by coming back for you. To tell you properly face to face that he still wanted you. 

As he daringly encases your body within his arms, Yunho embraces you in a firm yet gentle manner.

“How could I not be scared when I didn’t know how to believe you?” you admitted, muffled against his strong chest as hand cradles the back of your head. His heart breaks at how easily you turn your pain inward and how quickly you become your own sharpest critic.

“Will you believe me if I tell you that I love you?”

It leaves him so simply this time. No hesitation present. It’s not needed when it’s his pure, unfiltered truth.

You pull back shakily, looking up at him.

“Y-You can’t just love someone after four days!” you shake your head, though your heart races from reciprocation.

Yunho scoffs faintly, looking down at you as you stumble over your words.

“We had a contract, a deal that—” 

“I love you not despite your past and not because I pity you, but because I just do.”

For many years, he’d drowned life under business calls, endless contracts, and nights spent in boardrooms instead of surrounded by warmth. The idea of love was so distant in the CEO’s mind. But with you, it was as though a whole new life was restarted. 

His eyes glisten as rays of morning sunshine poke through the dirty glass windows.

A soft exhale escapes you through your tears, the words finally cutting through all your resistance that he’s chosen you. That he’s already chosen you long before you were brave enough to accept it.

Yunho brings his lips down to share a slow, grounding kiss. Not like he’s giving you the chance to pull away, because the second your hands grab the front of his jacket closer, you melt completely.

The mild can of beer and weird-tasting milk slips forgotten on the checkout table behind you as hands rest steady around your waist, pulling you against him like he’s terrified to lose you again. Hime meows softly, licking her fur as if entirely unimpressed by the emotional collapse happening nearby.

Outside, sirens still scream somewhere far down the street.

Inside the tiny convenience store, under flickering fluorescent lights, a horrified expression clouds Timothy’s face behind the aisle of potato chip bags.

It doesn’t matter. Because when the two of you finally pull back, tears still caught in your lashes, you say something quieter and far more important than any billion-dollar deal signed by a man like him.

Yunho always had money. He just never had someone who could give him something even more valuable. 

“I love you too.”

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄:

“Have you got everything?”

You nod, nervously sucking in a deep breath as you gripped the straps of your tote bag. The newly purchased textbooks felt heavy in your grasp, their covers glistening with newness. But that didn’t intimidate you as much as you thought it would. 

It served as a firm reminder of why you were here and why you wanted to do this. 

“Notebooks, pens, pencils?” Yunho lists, brows furrowing as the billionaire himself gets nervous for your first day of university. “Did my chef make you your lunch like you wanted her to?”

You nod, feeling so loved and well prepared thanks to your fiance’s care. “Mhm.”

He nods, letting out a deep sigh as he pulls you in and presses a gentle kiss on your forehead, reminding himself that you were. 

“Don’t be too nervous making friends, everyone is going to love you. If anyone says anything to hurt you, you have my legal teams number plus a list of all the top lawyers within the county-”

“Yunho,” you gently called out. 

The corners of your mouth lift as you reassured him by interlacing his fingers within yours. 

“I’ll be fine.” you smiled, nervous but still nonetheless excited to go back to university and finish your studies like you always wanted to. The new support system around you brought the courage to pursue a higher degree than just a highschool diploma. 

Yunho watches his fiance standing in front of him, an excited smile on her cheeks as bright eyes look up at him. He has half the heart to just ditch the office and spend the whole day with you on campus, not wanting to spend a single second apart. But seeing as other students independently walk pass on their way to class, he simply caresses your face.

“I’ll be waiting for you when you finish, alright?” he promises softly. “I want to hear everything about your first day.”

You nod and grin.

“Have a good day at the office.”

“Have a good day at school.” 

And with one last kiss, full of warmth that lingers long after it ends, you finally slip from his arms and take your first steps onto the fresh green campus grounds. It may be nerve-wracking, but it’s not frightening.

Because even as you move forward on your own, you know someone who loves you is still there behind you.

Rooting you on. 

Tonight marked the 8th date you guys have gone on ever since your first meeting at a late-night convenience store around the corner of his apartment, where the once peaceful environment was interrupted by a measly burglar waving his gun around with arrogance and the demand of money.

It was the one night when Dick wasn’t in costume and was nursing a severely bruised body from a villain he had encountered two days earlier. The situation irritated him even more than he already was—Bruce was still chewing his ass out over a case that he was working on; he still needed to go to work with his bruised body because he can’t exactly let them know what violent activities he’s up to at night and his injuries—now this.

So it’s an understatement when saying the burglar was dealt with easily and quickly, as Dick was able to disarm him before the man could even take another step towards another innocent customer—someone Dick learned later was you.

The anticlimactic moment ended with the man scrambling out of the store with much less confidence than before, the store clerk shakily thanking Dick with the promise of free items of his choice tonight and the next time he comes in. Accepting the gratitude, Dick was ready to go home with the multitude of free items in his grocery bag--until he spotted you.

Standing near the entrance, dressed in sweatpants about twice your actual size with a hoodie you were equally drowned in, Dick found you absolutely radiant. He wasn’t someone who believed in love at first sight beforehand, but now? Certainly, this is what it means.

It took him a few seconds of silence and staring at you with an open mouth, like a goldfish for him to realize that you were speaking to him, and just like the store clerk. you were thanking him profusely for saving you from the gun that was previously pointed to you. Dick can't remember what happened after that. But he does remember walking out of the store a happy man, your phone number having found its way into his phone.

Back in the present, Dick knew that maybe 8 dates was a little too much to come to this decision; after all, for him it was only on date number 2 that he knew he wanted you, badly. But he knew he had to be patient, especially after you revealed that you’ve never been in a relationship—or on a date at all. It was for this reason that he decided to take things slow and wait for a sign that you wanted him too.

By now, he’s reached his limit.

Every other date you’ve had prior to this had been more casual: going out for coffee, the arcade, movie nights at his place (more often yours because he absolutely adores your cat, mocha), grocery shopping together, and going for a stroll in Melville Park to walk Haley, his adorable pitbull you fell in love with.

Tonight, Dick took you to a nice restaurant with tables reserved on its rooftop. He knew you weren’t someone who frequented fancy restaurants too often, so he found a solid one just in between fancy and casual.

Dinner was going well, and you were absolutely perfect. He’d told you beforehand to come wearing a blue outfit, and the dress you wore had surpassed his expectations so much that he considered dropping down on one knee right then and there before ever asking you to be his girlfriend, if it wasnt apparent just how much it affected him seeing that colour on you with his lovesick gaze the entire night.

The dress you’re wearing is dark blue silk, the kind of colour that shifts like midnight water under the lighting of the restaurant's stringed lights. It drapes across your frame in a way that seems deliberate, highlighting your curves, and Dick feels his mouth dry at how it complements your brown skin—like the colour was meant to be worn by you, and you alone.

The glow of your upper body lets him know of the shea butter you’d rubbed on yourself, your legs that slip through the slit sharing the same glow.

The matching gold jewelry you wear and the updo you’ve done with your curls make him fight demons he never even knew he had, wanting to jump over the table to show you how much he loves you.

It truly doesn’t help how much he’s reminded of his Nightwing costume every time he looks at you.

He finds himself murmuring more compliments than usual because he can’t contain how much it moves him. The blue that once belonged only to his suit now belongs to you too, and he adores it—adores you—in a way he can’t keep from showing.

Dick finds himself craving dessert earlier than usual.

But he knows he has to act accordingly; he can’t afford to scare you away. So he does what he’s best at and eyes you with a disgustingly lovesick, yearning look as if he’s some schoolboy with his very first crush for the entire night as you guys chat over dinner.

He pays even closer attention to you than ever (if that’s even possible), maintaining intense eye contact with every word delivered in the air, squeezing your manicured hand (that has the nails he paid for) while you excitedly share the plot of the most recent book you read last weekend, and feeding you some of the food he’s ordered (you protested against stealing his food, but he insisted, claiming, “It’s my duty to feed you.” how do you even respond to that?).

Overall, dinner was perfect. He thinks this is the best date you guys have been on so far, as after dinner he surprises you with tickets to the movie he remembers you wanted to see when it came out.

What a coincidence that today happens to be its release date, and the happy squeal it pulled from you once he revealed the surprise made the rest of his year, he thinks. It’s something he could listen to on repeat for hours and never get sick of.

As the night got darker and you got tired, Dick knew it was time to take you home. As much as he’d love for this night to continue, he doesn’t want to keep you up later than you’re used to.

It brings you both to his car, pulling up into the neighbourhood of your apartment complex, the car filled with a comfortable silence as you gaze out to the passing buildings. His jacket covers your previously bare shoulders during the car ride after he’d noticed the goosebumps rising on your skin (he wouldn’t quit sulking at the fact that you didn’t tell him anything about you being cold and forced you inside his jacket desite your protests).

Parked in front of your building, you unbuckled your seatbelt and grabbed your purse, ready to thank him for tonight once again and wish him a goodnight—before you were surprised with him unbuckling himself and turning off the engine. He paused his actions when he spotted your questioning stare.

“What? You thought I was gonna let you walk up there alone? Absolutely not,” Dick huffed, quickly circling around the car to open your door and making space for you as you stepped out. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t walk you to your door? I need to make sure you make it inside safely, you know.”

Normally you would’ve been your own ride home (he’s never liked it but agreed if it made you happy), but Dick insisted that he’s the one who drives you home this time.

Dick walks you into your building, already knowing his way around from past visits, and unlocks the lobby’s door with his own copy of your keys, then leads you further into the elevators with a hand on your back that’s still covered by his jacket.

It’s almost pathetic how during the entire elevator ride, the two of you are stealing glances at each other—oblivious of the other person’s nervous shifting. Dick knows that it’s tonight that he gets that kiss from you.

At last, when having reached your door, it’s as though the once simmering tension has announced its presence, and settles in the air between the two of you. As you turn to face him with your back to your door, he gives you a soft smile that lets butterflies rise in your stomach, the warm orange lighting that complements his tanned skin doing nothing to help.

If anything, it makes whatever you’re feeling worse, and you don’t know if you can keep acting oblivious to your true feelings.

“I had a really great time,” his voice snaps you out of your thoughts, your full attention back on him, “And I really loved our conversations tonight. I'd love to do something like this again, with you.” His tone at the end has a hopeful implication. He hopes he doesn’t come off as too desperate, but part of him can’t get himself to care.

He thinks now would be the perfect time for that kiss, but he doesn’t want to pressure you. Dick knows it would kill him to ruin what you guys have, and this might be the most nervous he’s ever been in his entire life.

“Yeah?” You ask with a hint of shyness, holding your hands behind your back. “Thank you, Dick. I had a really great time with you tonight, too. The movie made me really happy and...I’m glad you remembered that small detail.”

Dick feels his heart practically melting at the sound of your voice. Your obvious nervousness only boosts his confidence in what he plans on doing, and he can’t get over how much he loves your voice. You’re so adorable. He thinks to himself.

His next smile is a lot more dorky, cheeks warm with his dimples coming out to reveal themselves. It’s your favourite feature on him, right after his blue, blue eyes, you think. You both feel like high schoolers again with a pathetic crush. “Nothing you tell me is ever small.”

He’s taken aback by how fond he let that come out of his mouth, but he decides it’s worth it when your eyes avert down to your feet—flustered. It’s his favourite look on you.

But he knows just like this isn’t enough. This thought leads him to slowly reach for your arms behind your back, gently uncrossing them while his hands trail down to hold your own. He searches your eyes for any discomfort before intertwining them, when having found none, his calloused palms swallow your smaller, softer ones. The contrast does nothing but make his heart beat faster.

It’s when you look up at him with wide, glimmering dark eyes filled with hope and a drop of insecurity that it clicks—you are the woman he wishes to share his life with.

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t have a crush on him. It was impossible not to, with his easygoing grin that you’ve observed goes toe to toe with the sun itself. With each action done with careful consideration of you, with each compliment given, with each laugh he’s pulled out of you, with each dinner cooked together, with each night spent on his fire escape with shoulders touching– each day learning about what makes you, you.

It was too easy falling in love with Dick Grayson.

And that scared you.

Similarly to Dick, it was around the third date that you knew you wanted something blooming between you.

Love. What a strange concept for a girl who’s never fallen in love.

You find that the only reason why you hadn’t initiated anything further with him is because you’re unsure if this is how the process goes. Along with the slight insecurity of slipping up if you did, with Dick having more experience than you did. Soon those worries disappeared, because Dick had done nothing but soothe them.

Every moment where you felt as though you needed to initiate anything physical beyond what you were used to, he noticed, and every anxious thought was blown away with a simple reassuring smile.

He never said more than a quiet, “It’s okay,” because to him it was always about your comfort before anything.

He’s never made you feel forced to do anything, content to lead you through each encounter until you found the moment you were ready.

You realize as soon as he holds your hands in his—he’s the one for you.

Dick chuckles softly at the look in your eye and squeezes your hands gently. His blue eyes, nearly swallowed up by his dilated pupils, are fixed on yours, studying your reaction with an intensity that makes you want to squirm. He can feel how warm your skin is and his heart feels like it could pop out of his chest.

With a deep breath, Dick takes another step closer, now only inches apart. He lifts a hand to lift your chin ever-so-slightly, making you tilt your head up to meet his gaze. Dark eyes meet blue.

You swallow thickly as your eyes remain locked on each other, feeling his other hand move down to your waist. His expression is so vulnerable and raw as he looks down at you, and you think you might throw up from nerves alone. Your eyes water as these thoughts circle through your mind.

It doesn’t take detective skills to read you like a book. He can tell what you’re thinking. He knows the reason you’re unsure as you begin shaking in his arms. His thumb traces slow circles against your jaw, coaxing you to relax. He hopes you can’t hear how fast his heart is beating, how he’s memorizing the sound of your soft breaths.

The two of you are the only ones in the hallway at the risk of being seen by neighbours, but neither of you can find it in you to care.

"You okay?" He murmurs softly, searching your face with those impossibly blue eyes. There's no teasing now–just genuine care and something achingly tender beneath it all. "I can... we can stop if—"

(But the way he lingers shows he really doesn’t want to stop.)

"No!" you interject louder than intended to, freezing when you realized ust how loud that came out. A surprised laugh bubbles out of him at your sudden outburst, the sound warm and so fond. That adorable reaction just makes him squeeze you a tiny bit closer.

"N—no, I... this is okay. I'm okay." You finish softly, heart aching for more. You’re incredibly greedy when it comes to his touch, and you don’t feel a drop of shame for it.

"Good," he murmurs, leaning in until his forehead brushes yours—so close you can feel his breath against your lips. His free hand lifts to cradle your cheek now, thumb sweeping beneath your eye to catch that traitorous wetness before it falls.

"Because I really wanna kiss you right now," he admits in a whisper, grinning that stupid lopsided grin that makes your stomach flip. "But only if you really want me to."

Your heart almost stutters to a stop, and your gaze is consumed by nothing but want. Your pupils were almost as blown as his, and the way the wind blows, tussling at his wavy hair, drives you crazy. You melt against him as your foreheads touch, letting out a shaky breath.

It’s as you lose yourself in the pool of his impossibly blue eyes that you realize death doesn't scare you if it's by drowning in his eyes.

You lean into his warm palm, memorizing the sweet scent of his cologne. You give your answer in a hushed tone, as though sharing a secret that's to remain between the two of you alone. "I really wanna kiss you, too."

It sends a shiver down his spine. Holy smokes, he thinks to himself. You look like a dream.

The world seems to melt away as he gazes down at you with an intensity that is both gentle and smoldering. Dick can feel your breath on his lips, and it drives him insane.

"Damn," he mutters roughly, his voice suddenly raw with emotion, "you're going to be the death of me."

It's the only time he'll use the Lord's name in vain.

Just like that, he can't hold back any longer. The dam breaks, and he closes the last meager distance between the two of you, capturing your mouth in a deep, starved kiss.

A cut off gasp is swallowed by his lips, your eyes tightly shutting closed as your lips lock with his— and you feel alive. This is your very first kiss, and it's one you will never forget.

Dick’s arms circle your waist completely, pulling you flush against his body as his one hand slides up your spine until his fingers thread into your hair, tilting your head back as he kisses you with everything he has.

If it weren't for his arms holding you up, your knees would have buckled. He can feel how your body shakes with nerves and anticipation against his lips, and he can’t resist brushing his tongue over your bottom lip, groaning at the rewarding whimper he gets.

The smack of your lips is nasty; after each smack comes the sound of a deep groan which then triggers a breathy whine. Your blood is rushing to your head, and you think you might die. You’re suddenly immensely grateful for living on a nearly empty floor.

DIck groans low in his throat when he feels your grip tighten on his dress shirt, like you’re terrified he might pull away. As if he would ever want to. His tongue teases along your bottom lip again—asking without words.

His other hand drops from your chin to squeeze your hip possessively, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp against his mouth.

"Sweetheart," he murmurs between feverish kisses, voice wrecked already, "c'mon, open up for me."

That tone—half praise and half demand—sends a bolt of heat straight through you. Holy shit. You’re embarrassed at the mewl that escapes you at the pet name. Please call me that again, please, please—

It's almost instantaneous that you open your mouth, giving his tongue access. The pleased chuckle that escapes him makes your entire body flare up in warmth. It felt good, getting his approval.

Dick takes full advantage of your obedience, the kiss turning downright filthy as he explores your mouth, his tongue coaxing against yours in the most distracting way. He groans again, a hungry, guttural sound that reverberates through his chest. He has to have more of you.

"Dick—" you whine against his lips as the smacking of lips circles around the small, dark quiet hallway. You find out just how easy it is to forget your surroundings when Dick Grayson is all-consuming in your mind, and on your lips.

The sound of his name on your lips grows his greed, wanting to own every gasp and whine and whimper you make. When your tongue brushes against his, something ignites in him, some feral, possessive feeling that makes his skin burn. You're so cute; he feels like a starved animal.

He pulls away with a wet sound, breathing heavily against your lips and resting his forehead against yours. He can feel your heart racing. He presses one last desperate peck to your lips.

"God," he mumbles raggedly, "you're doing things to me, sweetheart."

"I d-didn't do anything," you pant quietly, catching your breath as a string of drool remains between the two of you—your eyes half-lidded.

Dick stares at your face, taking in your flushed cheeks, the way you pant, and that adorable little strand of drool—God, he is so obsessed with you it isn't even funny.

His hands roam your body, one still gripping your hip and the other sliding up to cup your cheek, his calloused thumb tracing your kiss-swollen bottom lip, wiping away the wetness. You resist the urge to take his thumb in your mouth where it sits against your lip.

"Baby, look at you," he murmurs, gaze darkening as he looks down at you. "I could eat you alive right now." His comment makes you squawk. "Please don't," you sigh weakly, a protesting frown on your lips.

"I won't," he murmurs between nips and pecks along your jaw, "not unless you ask very nicely." He punctuates it with a slow drag of his teeth against your pulse point before pulling away just enough to see the reaction on your face.

His fingers tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear as his expression softens into something warmer—something more like home. "But I should probably get going before I actually do something reckless."

Oh. Yeah.

"You should..." You realize sadly that as much as you wanted to stay out longer with him, you couldn't risk getting in trouble with your roommate. "I wish you didn't have to," you murmur sadly, looking down at your heels.

His face falls for a second, reading the disappointment in your tone instantly. Dick pulls you back into a tight hug, pressing his lips to the top of your head before sighing dramatically.

"Ugh, don't look at me like that," he whines, squeezing you lightly as he rests his chin on your head. "You're gonna make me stay. And then I'll have to explain to your roommate why I'm camped out on your doorstep like some lovesick stray."

You couldn’t resist the giggle at his comment, equally wrapping your arms around him. You’re overwhelmed and also not whelmed (heh, yj ref) enough by his scent. “I would've let you stay the night like usual, but she just came back from vacation. Sorry, Dick.”

He only sulks above you, letting out one last dramatic sigh. He’s as dramatic as ever. “It’d be easier if I could just bring you back to mine,” Dick huffs enviously. “If only life were so easy.”

“You talk like I won’t just see you soon, silly. I promised Haley treats.”

“So you only like me for my dog?”

“Crap, you caught me...” you grin, unbothered

He lets out an undignified squawk, your laughther following up with the dramatics.

“To be fair, she’s super adorable. I can’t resist her eyes; she’s just a baby!”

“I’ll have you know, I was the one who trained her. Her cuteness is a direct reflection of me.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Fine, fine. Maybe I like you a little too.

Dick beams instantly, smug as ever. “I knew it.”

He pulls back just enough to cup your face again—and this time, there's no joking in those stupidly blue eyes. Just something painfully sincere.

"But I’ll see you soon? Like… really soon?" His thumb traces the apple of your cheek hopefully.

You nod eagerly, returning his hopeful smile with a tender one of your own. “Yeah...I’d like that.” You confess quietly, holding his hand against your cheek.

His smile brightens immediately, boyish and so unfairly charming. You hate him. "Good," he murmurs, pressing one last lingering kiss to your forehead before finally—reluctantly—stepping back.

Dick walks backwards to the elevator like an idiot, unable to tear his eyes away from you. "And hey," he adds with a grin that promises trouble, fingers tapping against his chest where his heart is still racing. "You did this to me."

You can’t resist a laugh at his antics, pulling out your keys from your purse as he gets closer to the elevator. You grin like a lovesick teenager—you both do. “I sure did, Golden Boy. Call me when you get home?”

“Always,” he promises, taking a moment to admire your glowing figure under the warm lighting. He stuffs his hands in his pockets to keep himself from walking back over and hauling you into his arms again.

It’s when you unlock your door and give him one last smile that he dramatically blows you a kiss, his heart warming even further when you playfully catch it.

Dick’s grin softens one last time, pausing as the elevator doors open. “Goodnight, baby.” He tells you. You parrot after him. “Goodnight, Dickie.” Only you know how much that nickname makes his heart flutter.

And then—just like that—you disappear into your apartment.

(you only realize minutes later thanks to your roommate that you completely forgot to hand back his jacket. when mentioning this to dick he only laughs and tells you to keep it as a souvenir.)

dont forgot to like & reblog! thank you for reading. <3

But blazed or not, Enjin still has a job to do. Umbreaker sweeps him across the trash dunes in a speedy blur, but by the time he arrives he is already too late and the show is over. 

All that’s left is you: a young woman passed out in a pile of demolished trash beast remains and other junk. The giant kaiju-like plushie—now inanimate and no bigger than a hand—lay beside you tethered to your person by a keyring. 

Happening upon another giver in No Man’s Land wasn’t out of the ordinary, sure, but if Enjin thought he was high from seeing your jinki in action he had to be damn near in the clouds once he recognized your clothes.  

Similar to when Enjin discovered Rudo, he could immediately tell by your dress you are a Spherite. But unlike the threadbare attire of the scrappy tribesmen teen, yours practically screams wealth. They are the finest clothes Enjin has ever laid eyes on. Appearing as if they are woven from gold itself, despite the fresh layer of grime that settled on them.

You aren’t just any ol’ Spherite—you’re a Spherite noblewoman.

Keh, interesting. 

With a shake of his head Enjin scoops you up, heading back to HQ. They aren’t gonna believe this…

Enjin digs out a backup mask from his satchel—clearly not made for your face, because it slides right off. With an annoyed sigh, he holds it in place himself. Guess that’s his job now… at least until you wake up.

Although Enjin soon discovers a pattern of how unnecessarily difficult Spherites can be upon arriving to the Abyss—as the first thing you do upon waking in Enjin’s arms is to slap the everloving dogshit out of him. 

Fuck, you have a mean right hand. 

Enjin tongues a tooth to make sure it’s still there. 

“Let me go this instant, you filthy kidnapping degenerate! I demand you to take me home!” You cry out. 

Tears fog up the mask on your face as you clearly mistook Enjin for some kind of criminal with his ‘full face’ on. Enjin sighs, tightening his grip on you and taking the not-so-painless beating you’re dishing out until you reach the nearest city. 

The very second you both are in a habitable area for breathing, Enjin unceremoniously dumps you to the ground. He catches the mask, yet he leaves you to fall straight on your ass. The fall shocks you but Enjin’s sure what’s really got you stunned is the strange bustling city surrounding you.

Removing his fullface, Enjin crouches down to eye-level with you. Overwhelmed and overstimulated by the foreign place, your eyes dart around helplessly. You’re frantic, looking everywhere for some sort of bearing of where you are and avoiding the man in front of you.

Yet Enjin just waits, clicking his tongue and rocking back on his heels, for you to quiet your hysterics enough for him to get a word in.

When your eyes, still wide with panic, finally meet, he has the nerve to raise a brow—like you’re the one being dramatic and not the guy who literally kidnapped you.

“So, as you may have noticed by now…this ain’t the Sphere,” Enjin says, balancing a cigarette between his lips. 

You look at him skeptically—he says it like it’s nothing, while your world is actively falling apart. What is he even talking about?!

“I know this ain’t the welcome wagon you posh Spherites are used to but…”

Enjin pauses, exhaling smoke to the sky. Your gaze follows up, widening once you see the oddly shaped dome covering the city, a strange yellow fog in the atmosphere.

“....welcome to the Abyss, Girlie. Name’s Enjin.” 

Blankly staring at Enjin, you say nothing. The both of you in a mini stare down. Although you’re the first to give by suddenly bursting into sobs.

Rolling his eyes, a thought briefly flashes in Enjin's head that he should have just left you for the raiders. Hell, he could still leave you now—you’re calling way too much attention to yourself.

However, Enjin also figures that with you all but swimming in luxury on the Sphere, you probably thought of the Pit—your so-called Hell, or its inhabitants as mere fairytale.

Enjin’s inkling is confirmed when you calm down enough to piece together that your now ex-husband had hired a bunch of shady tribesmen to kidnap and dispose of you—all to collect your inheritance. 

Yeah, not your fault.  Enjin thinks and cuts you a break. 

For your own sake, Enjin somehow convinces you to come back to Cleaner HQ with him. He can’t return you to the Sphere himself—but he knows another Spherite who’s trying to make their way back. That small glimmer of hope is enough to lift your spirits, just barely. This time, you follow him willingly—though you still cry the entire way to HQ.

Shame how prone to hysterics you are, otherwise Enjin actually thinks you’re pretty hot. Noting how the expensive silk of your dress clings so damn well to your every curve. He’d sell your clothes while you were near the shopping district—but unlike Rudo, he doubts he could talk you out of them. 

At least—not yet.

But that thought is drastically short lived as Enjin spends more time in your presence. Sure, you could have gotten along. You could’ve even been Enjin’s type. Yet there’s one glaring problem: 

You’re an annoying, needy-ass brat.  

Besides looks, you tick off nearly every one of his dealbreakers. You’re ditzy, dependent and whiny. Basically Enjin’s nightmare.

Plus your snobby little ass never once thanked nor apologized to him over the following weeks.

Not after he saved you.

Not after he brought you back to HQ where you were welcomed with skeptical, yet open arms—as a new, very reluctant (you had no other options really) recruit in-training.

And you certainly never thanked Enjin, even after all his shit luck, when he was assigned to be your teacher and look after your haughty ass. You have the most indignant pout on your face when Corvus announces that since Enjin found you, you're Enjin’s problem.

“You have to be kidding me? I’m stuck with Trashy Poppins here!?”

“Yo, Trashy—what!?” The reference doesn’t land with Enjin but he knows it isn’t good.

Semiu nods curtly in agreement of the pairing, amused that Enjin finally has someone to keep him on his toes as she ushers you off to get settled in.

The fuck?! 

Lamenting being stuck is supposed to be Enjin’s line. Enjin had figured the logical move was to pair you with Zanka—the closest thing to nobility among the Cleaners—and let you bond with Rudo, a fellow Spherite, even if he was a tribesman.

But it doesn’t take long to realize neither boy can handle a grown ass woman like you. One flutter of your lashes and they’re useless saps—like the big sister he never had, you could soothe Rudo’s worst moods with a mere head pat. 

While Zanka, older and appreciating your more ‘robust’ qualities, trips over his own tongue trying to talk to you.

Both ready to do anything just to earn a few sweet coos—unless someone steps in.

It had to be Enjin. He was the only one who could ‘resist’ your charms.

Still, Enjin’s got his work cut out for him when it comes to you—especially training you for combat and figuring out how the hell you’re supposed to use that so-ugly-it’s-almost-cute vital instrument.

He tries not to judge. Really, he does. Jinki are personal—he knows that better than anyone. But still…the fact that you even have one? That’s wild.

A Spherite? A noble Spherite, no less—the same pompous assholes who treat the Abyss like a dumping ground—actually caring enough about something to pump it full of anima?

Yeah, that’s impressive, he’ll give you that. What wasn’t though was the name you gave the lil thing: Bubu.

Tsk. Wack as hell. Vital instruments deserve names with some bite. Something like—Umbreaker.

Still, credit where it’s due—you’re picking things up faster than expected. 

However, that doesn’t spare him from your nonstop bitching, though. The complaints come daily: the strange smells your hair absorbs, the absence of your sacred skincare routines, not being able to take a 30 minute shower, and how everything down here always tastes just a little off.

But the most absurd? The cherry blossoms.

You complain the most about not being able to frolic in your lush, petal-covered garden full of rows of cherry blossoms. Enjin’s never even seen a damn tree like that, let alone the acres of grass and flowers you describe like some bedtime fairytale. You haughtily anoint yourself as a floral herbalist, an expert when it comes to your pretty little flowers.

It’s shit like that on top of everything else that irks Enjin when it comes to you.

And yet?

Enjin thinks the most irritating thing about you is the fact that he can’t seem to stay away from you. 

Sure, you’re annoying as fuck—but in spite of his own objections, Enjin keeps finding ways to keep your time occupied. He makes up excuses to train you longer and drags you along on missions that are solely meant for him. 

Moreover, since you can never keep that pretty little mouth shut, anyone you meet clocks you as a Spherite within seconds—which means you need Enjin’s constant protection, whether you like it or not.

Enjin ends up spending less time drinking or chasing women, finding a far more amusing pastime instead—the way your face twists in indignation every time the Ground doesn’t live up to your so-called “noble standards.” 

He gets a kick out of it, really. Agitating you on purpose, just to watch you squirm.

“Goddamnit, Enjin! Watch it!” 

You’d shriek every time your short skirt went flying from a sudden gust of wind he’d whip up with Umbreaker. Enjin saves that lil trick for No Man’s Land when the others’ backs are turned.

“That’s Enjin-sensei to you, Princess.” 

“Choke—slowly, Trashy Poppins.”

You’d lunge for his mask like you actually meant to rip it off, but at 6 '3, Enjin’s tall enough that you never have a chance at reaching it. It’s all worth it too—Enjin’s already got every pastel scrap of lace you own burned into memory, each one tucked away like a reward for getting under your skin.

It’s a little sadistic, sure—the way he taunts you nonstop, delighting in soiling that polished image of yours to grind you into the dirt of the ground right along with him. 

There’s a fire in your eyes every time Enjin dubs you as “Your Royal Trash Princess”—or just “TP” if he’s feeling lazy. You never fail to rise to his bait, eager to prove yourself—and prove him wrong.

Enjin feels he’s owed a bit of amusement for all his troubles.

Doesn’t mean anything.

Yet the more Enjin pushes, the harder it is to ignore that your bratty spark isn’t just an attitude problem. It’s energy. Real, raw passion. The kind that could actually cultivate anima. He sees it best when you’re snapping at him, flushed and defiant, too stubborn to back down.

It’s trouble to be sure, but fuck if Enjin doesn’t love coaxing it out of you.

All it took this time to get you going was him doubting your so-called knowledge of plants and remedies— “what kinda ‘floral herbalist’ hasn’t toked one?”  

So now here you are, in the HQ lounge, about to smoke your first joint as a ‘pre-game’ to the happy hour Corvus organized for all the Cleaners.

You and Enjin sit shoulder to shoulder on a worn, black quilted-leather sofa that’s seen better days. The cushions creak as you nervously smooth your skirt and settle in, unhooking your jinki—Bubu—from your belt to set her gently on the table.

Enjin rolls a few joints with unhurried precision—like he’s got all the time in the world, and watching you squirm is part of the ritual.

“Bet ya didn’t have anything like this in your lil’ garden, eh TP?” Enjin quips, breaking the silence.

Nose already upturned, your face scrunches as Enjin tosses an extra bud from his stash into your open palms. You hated the nickname ‘TP’ most of all, too easily mistaken for ‘toilet paper’ and Enjin knows that.

You shoot Enjin a dirty look before letting your focus drift back to the brittle sprig in your hands—the first real plant you’ve touched since becoming a Ground-dweller.

You think you actually recognize it. 

Back on the Sphere, your family was among the wealthiest, and your garden was massive. You took pride in your green thumb—like Delmon, whose garden you’ve been meaning to ask about. You want to help, if only to see what kind of plants can survive in conditions this toxic. But Enjin never gives you the space—always hovering, always cutting in before you can finish a full conversation.

You brush off those thoughts but your frown stays as your fingers trace the bud’s dry veins. Even for a dehydrated sample, it feels wrong—brittle in a way that hints of sickness. 

“Hmm. We had something like this—I think. But it’s just another weed.” You say shrugging.

“Heh,” Enjin smirks at your cluelessness, “Would you believe me if I told you ‘weed’ is exactly what we call it, Princess?”

You roll your eyes at the inordinately simple name. It probably has a proper scientific designation—but expecting Enjin to know it? Please.

“We always uprooted them—weeds are unsightly in gardens, you know. A weed, let alone one sick as this, would definitely be pruned right away so as to not syphon nutrients from the other plant life.”

“HAH?!”  

Mid-seal on his joint, Enjin stops cold, staring at you like you just dared to commit some sort of sacrilege before exhaling a theatrical sigh, shaking his head in pure betrayal.

He can’t believe Spherities are probably pissing away the dankest shit ever cultivated. The thought was maddening.

When Enjin’s eyes do meet yours again, there's no amusement as he takes a rather chastising tone with you.

“Princess, for your own good, never repeat that in front of anyone down here…I mean it.”

You huff, but Enjin doesn’t blink—just starts sealing the joint again, eyes never leaving you as his tongue drags slowly across the edge of the paper.

You squirm, and that’s all the reward he needs. 

“See somethin’ you like?” Enjin drawls, holding the finished joint out toward you like it’s a gift—and not a trap with your name written all over it.

Turning on teacher mode, Enjin decides to school you.

“I know we mostly have ‘reggie’ down here, but still, it’s worth its weight in gold for its purposes. Not just for fun ya know—chronic pain, nausea, anxiety—gives a bit of relief from the ailments of Abyss-living you Spherites have so graciously bestowed on us.”

From his pocket, Enjin produces a lighter, shoulders curling as he bows into the flame to set it alight.

Your eyes flick over the sinewy stretch of Enjin arms, the way his jacket strains across his shoulders—reminding you just how solid Enjin really is beneath all that shapeless fabric. Built like a weapon, hiding in plain sight.

You watch as his ringed fingers lift the joint to his lips. Drawing in a slow, steady breath, Enjin sinks back into the sofa like gravity’s got a tighter hold on him than usual. Smoke pools in his chest before slipping out in a long, deliberate exhale.

His gaze follows it, distant—like he’s chewing on thoughts far heavier than anything you said… but somehow still set off by it.

“That’s the problem with you Spherites….you don’t see things the way they are—you see things the way you are.” 

Enjin chuffs at his own words, closing his eyes to let his high settle. Not even completely stoned yet and he’s already spouting off pseudo philosophical one-liners.

“Everything else is collateral, amirite?”

Ouch.

Toeing at the floor, you sulk in silence. Wounded from the verbal licks Enjin just dealt you. Mulling over his words in silence though, you know it isn’t that simple. Horticulture can be complicated even in the most ideal conditions. Just because a plant is viable doesn’t mean it belongs in every garden—some plants are just incompatible.

However…

You sit silently, your teeth worrying your bottom lip as you study the brittle bud in your palm.

…that doesn’t make it worthless.

Instead of exploring any potential use, you tossed the so-called "weed" out—just like everything else the Sphere deemed useless. Not even considering how valuable it could be. You can see why Enjin wouldn't want you repeating that mistake. Enough people already looked at you with disdain as it is. 

Sure there’s a lot of things you miss about it, mostly superficial things that had to do with vanity, but overall life up there was super sterile and dull. You’d never say it out loud but you are glad you fell, it was hard on the ground but it was liberating.

Sighing, you quietly concede. You hate anytime Enjin actually has a point though. It’s the worst thing imaginable—for your pride and for his already unbearable ego.

Cracking an eye open, Enjin curses under his breath. Switching tactics, he decides to replace the long look on his Trash Princess’s face. Annoyance would do just fine. Besides, there was no need for you to pout over it, you actually had a shot at redemption here… heh, the kind that might just work out in his favor, too.

“Y’knowwwww, we’re always learnin’ better ways to grow things down here, faster too...”

Enjin moves so quietly, you don’t realize how close he is until you turn—and he’s right in your face, barely a breath away. Swiping his ringed thumb across your cheek, Enjin’s touch is surprisingly tender. However his expression is entirely obnoxious, full of amusement from how fast your pouty little face flusters.

“...could be a nice little hobby that would do alotta good…and if anyone could figure out how to grow this shit properly down here—”

Enjin plucks at the heat of your warm cheeks, pinching just enough to tease and drag the moment into something more lighthearted.

“—I do believe it could be you—Trash Princess.”

Your eyes catch something deeper than just teasing in his golden gaze—but before you can dwell on it, instinct kicks in. You jerk back, swatting his hand away, shoving whatever that was out of your mind.

Enjin just laughs, unbothered, as you glare at him.

“And why can’t you get Delmon to do it?” you counter, arms folding across your chest. By now, you’ve learned Enjin usually has an angle for everything.

Right on the mark, for a beat, Enjin actually pauses. He hadn’t expected you to bring up the obvious—Delmon, the gentle giant practically martyred to the idea of saving what’s left of the Abyss. But Enjin’s roguish grin slips back into place, spreading wider as he leans in, unapologetically invading your space.

“Why? Well...’cause I asked you, Princess. The ol’lug has enough on his plate as it is. You can handle it alone, can’t ya?”

Truthfully, even knowing your interest in Delmon never strays beyond roots and soil, it still irks every time Enjin catches sight of you with him. You look every bit the noble—graceful, composed, eyes soft and curious as you gaze up at Delmon, eager to learn. It grates on Enjin more than he’d admit, knowing he’s never once gotten that look, despite monopolizing most of your time.

“Ya know—unless, your skillset just ain’t up t’par?” Enjin finishes with a shrug.

Wholly unconvinced, you see this for the bait it is from a mile away. Nevertheless, you can’t deny that you are eager to get even the tiniest bit of normalcy back in your life from your old hobbies. Planting something, anything, would be nice—even if it ends up being contraband for Enjin. Although you still aren’t quite sure why you can’t consult Delmon. 

“Ugh! Fine!”

You fall back onto the sofa and Enjin follows, his arm settling behind you, practically draped around your shoulders. You don’t even flinch. He takes another slow hit, smoke curling toward the ceiling, but this time there’s a wicked glint in his eye as he watches you. Deciding he’s babysat the joint long enough, he leans in with a lazy smirk and holds it out to you.

“Enjin—your eyes!” You blurt out, disregarding his invitation. “Is that just from smoking!? I can’t go to happy hour looking like some kinda zombie!”

Enjin sputters mid-laugh, coughing as wisps of smoke leak from the corners of his smart ass grin.

“Eh, well duh. Why else would they get so red when I smoke?”

Enjin coughs out a few more chuckles. You roll your eyes.

“I don’t know, Trashy Poppins…I didn't make the connection since the air quality down here is 80% pollution! You could have anything.”

While Enjin is amused by your sass, the joint continues to burn down. Each second unsmoked is wasting precious bud. Leaning in, his voice drops to a low purr—the kind that makes your stomach flip.

Heh, time to pull out the big guns.

“Aht-aht-aht, c’mon now, Princess, you know the golden rule…”

You sigh, thinking you need that happy hour drink more than ever right now.

“You’re not serious.”

But you know he is, and of course you remember the silly motto Enjin makes an unspoken rule for his team. Although he mostly just uses it to get you to do something you’ll usually regret later.  You sigh, knowing you’ll never make it to happy hour until you appease the big man-child in front of you.

Enjin’s golden eyes shine with even more mischief than before and together like some damn mantra, you both repeat:

“...it’s not peer pressure—it’s just your turn.”

Resigned, you click your tongue, swiping at the joint in his hands. But Enjin is much faster as he pulls back with infuriating speed. You glower at him, snark locked and loaded.

“Nah, actually I’ll help you out since it’s your first time, Princess.”

Innuendo coils around his words, heat radiating off him as you tense under his gaze. You don’t want to argue with him though, the sooner you smoked, the sooner you both could be at happy hour.

“Open.” 

Enjin’s fingers graze the corner of your mouth as he holds the joint to your peach-glossed lips, eyes darkening when you part them obediently for him.

“Now breathe it in, nice and slow…deeper. Yeah, that’s it—hold it. Don’t let go until I say—good girl.”

You want to scoff at him, but you can’t—not with tears stinging your eyes and smoke burning its way down your lungs. By the time Enjin gives you the nod to exhale, you’re already choking, coughing it all back up in ragged plumes.

Yeah, this was nowhere in hell as easy as Enjin made it look.

The buzz rises in your head almost instantly, an airy haze creeping into your consciousness.

“See? Not a terrible cherry pop, eh?”

The glare you throw at Enjin is more of a squint. Still recovering from the fire tearing down your throat, your coughs earn you a few heavy-handed smacks on the back from Enjin. If it’s out of comfort or mockery, you can't tell. 

Everything in the room is spinning and becoming more distant, like a daydream.

“Easy there, breathe—it’ll hit easier when ya figure out how to grow it right, Princess. The dank shit won’t burn this hard.”

You want to bite back that even if you do figure out how to grow the damn ‘weed’ plant, you’d never touch it again. But the sudden heaviness seeping into your limbs drags you down, tilting your head on the axis of equilibrium.

“I think, no—I know, I need to lay down.”

Not waiting for permission, you flop down onto the worn cushions beneath you, curling up awkwardly with your head leaning against the armrest and your legs dangling off the seat at an angle. 

Enjin doesn’t miss a beat though—he scoops your legs into his lap, tugging off your boots so you can be comfortable.

Leaning back, perfectly at ease, Enjin holds the joint in one hand while the other rests on your stocking-covered shin, giving it a casual, reassuring pat. The way your arm drapes over your face tells him everything—yeah, you’ve got the spins.

“Keh, you’ll make it, Princess. Just let it all ride out.”

You’d make it alright, but not to happy hour anytime soon. Enjin supposes he might’ve let you take a bigger hit than you were ready for. 

Whoops.

Silence stretches in the aftermath but it’s not uncomfortable. Enjin takes a few more lazy tokes, one golden eye cracked open just enough to watch you, taking stock of your state. 

It’s in moments like this—rare ones, when you’re quiet—that he remembers just how fucking smoking hot you are.

Especially in that Cleaner uniform. Man, God bless August.

The eccentric tailor took special care in designing it thanks to a sudden burst of inspiration—August even convinced Enjin to allow him to keep some of the trim from your Spherite clothes that he repurposes. The outcome of your uniform is shinier, more fitted and much sluttier than standard issue. 

You took to it immediately, without much fuss and actually complimenting August. That was August’s gift though—whipping up pieces to suit even the finickiest of tastes—and Enjin had to admit, the man did his big one. 

But the real surprise wasn’t the craftsmanship. It was you—his oh-so-prim little Trash Princess—strutting around in something so damn naughty. Dressed up like a treat that Enjin can’t help but eat up with his eyes.

And whaddya know? Enjin has the munchies bad right now.

Left to his own devices, Enjin takes his time devouring the sight in front of him. His gaze lingers down the length of your legs sprawled across his lap, to the soft, exposed flesh of your thighs—spilling over the edge of your stockings just enough to make his jaw clench.

Fuck, they look so soft. He can't help but wonder how they'd feel locked around his head as his eyes climb to the next indulgence—your crop top. Rucked up to your ribs, the thin white cotton hugs just beneath your tits. Shit, the way your cute little nips poke through the fabric makes his mouth twitch with the urge to say ‘hi’ right back—with his tongue.

Is it hotter in here, or—?

Leering at you for too long is a surefire way for Enjin to pop a boner. Enjin knows he’s not alone in that either. That uniform of yours turns heads in every city you pass through. Consequently, Enjin has split more skulls because of idiots trying to hit on you or cop a feel than he ever has for anyone trying to snatch a Spherite.

Not that he’s jealous or nothing.

Nah. Just doing his job. Watching out for you. Plenty of unscrupulous assholes out there willing to pounce on a clueless little thing like you.

However, right now, Enjin’s just as unscrupulous—‘watching out’ only for a flash of your panties as each restless wiggle sinks you deeper into the lumpy cushions, bunching your skirt higher and teasing him with a glimpse of skimpy lace.

Man, just a little more and he’d know exactly which pair you picked today.

Sobering up a bit more, you sigh at your inability to get comfortable when you could feel the very springs in the sofa. Stretching, you straighten your leg suddenly and—

“Yo! Watch the feets, girl!”  

Though there’s amusement in his voice as he jolts upright, tatted hands grabbing your ankle before you’re able to land another blow.

“Ah, sorry—” You mutter sheepishly, reeling back your foot. “I didn’t mean to kick Umbreaker.”

For what it’s worth, the apology comes quickly—you’ve learned better than to mess with a man’s jinki, especially Enjin’s. You've nearly tripped more times than you can count over that bulky extension of himself that he always keeps within reach.

You know it’s serious too when he doesn’t even bother with the stupid nicknames he usually calls you. Nevertheless, you’re left puzzled when Enjin’s laughter comes out loud and sharp. 

“...that wasn’t Umbreaker, Princess.”

Huh? What does he mean that isn’t— 

You freeze. 

Carefully peeking out from under your arm, your reddened eyes squint down the length of your body and onto his. When the realization does set in of what exactly you kicked, it smacks you harder than any hit of ganja ever could.

“O…oh…—OH MY GAWD!”

Immediately springing upright, your vertigo swirls with how fast you’re scrambling to your knees as you gawk.

Time passes for what seems like a solid minute or two and neither of you speak. 

You’re staring at the crotch of Enjin’s baggy pants and Enjin is staring at you.

“Heh.”

The devious look on Enjin’s face right now could shame the devil himself. Yet you’re still in utter disbelief.

There’s no way that’s his dick!

Still, your brain won’t stop running the numbers—high girl math with clumsy calculations drawn from the fleeting brush of your toes against the long, thick mass hidden beneath the fabric of his baggy pants. Enjin’s words ring in your mind like a gong—‘that wasn’t Umbreaker…’

“You’re burnin’ a hole through my dick, Princess—”

Enjin’s voice unfurls seductively, like the smoke curling from his lips.

“—keep starin’ like that and I’m gonna think you wanna see it.”

Your eyes meet his dead-on. 

“I do.”

“Yeah, I’m sure yo—wait, come again?!”

Enjin’s grip goes slack, the joint slipping from his fingers. He was halfway to some sassy quip, ready to taunt your denial—but your delivery is so honest, with no teasing or angle to play off, he doesn’t know what to do with it.

The embers hiss against his thigh before he even registers he dropped it.

“Tch.” Cursing under his breath, he flicks it aside—it’s all roach anyway—and tries to pull himself back together.

You’re fucking with him. Yeah. That’s it. 

Smug again, Enjin leans into the bit you started.

“Ha ha…right. I know my stuck up lil’ Trash Princess isn’t asking to give me a dick inspection…”

Enjin adjusts his pants in a casual sweep that doesn’t fool either of you. He’s not brushing off the remaining flakes of ash—he’s palming his restless cock that jumped at the idea of you actually wanting to see it.

But both you and Enjin would quickly discover, despite your snobby Spherite upbringing, you lose any type of filter and sense of couth while high—blurting out your thoughts unabashedly. 

“I said I wanted to see it, Trashy Poppins. Or m’not gonna believe you’re actually that big.”

You fold your arms, huffing stubbornly.

There was no way an unbearably annoying man like Enjin was slanging actual horse cock! 

He had to be the one fucking with you here.

Well, wait, no—a cocky, stupidly sexy man having a big dick actually tracks, now that you think about it.

But still—you need to verify. For science, if nothing else. 

Yeah. Science.

Enjin blinks, taking stock of you—kneeling close, your tits straining like they’re about to burst free, and your skirt rides so high on your thighs this time, he swears one more millimeter and he’d see your panties for real. 

“C’mon now…”

Your sickly sweet coos needle at Enjin’s spine.

“...as if you aren’t always upskirting me just to see my panties.”

Shit. You knew it was intentional?

“At least you can show me your undies for a change. If you’re really that big, then I’ll be able to tell.”

The spark alight in your eyes is a challenge to Enjin, who loves pushing your limits. Now he needs to know how far you’ll go. Even if he’s completely unprepared for this turn of events, he’s sure as fuck not gonna be the one backing down first.

“S’that right, Princess? Well, I haven’t even seen yours today so—”

Enjin doesn’t even get the chance to finish before you’re lifting your skirt and spreading your knees wider. You stare up at the ceiling, the popcorn squares suddenly appearing super interesting to you. Enjin’s eyes however immediately zero-in on the pink lace stretched tight across your pussy.

Christ.

With a much closer view, Enjin picks up all the little details he usually misses—like how the hem digs into your soft curves or how the material is thin enough to see the split of your chubby lil pussy lips pressed underneath. 

Goddamn, are you intentionally buying them a size too small? 

Or is your pussy print just that fat?

Enjin gulps, mouth dry. 

His attention caught like a hook to your cunt, everything else is unimportant—including the irony of how he was just teasing you for the very same thing—it’s all utterly lost on him. His priorities shifting rapidly the longer he ogles you.

After a minute, giving him quite frankly more of his fill than he deserves, you let your skirt drop back into place. The alluring spell of your fatma breaks when your  knees snap shut and Enjin is yanked back to a world that doesn’t exist between the apex of your doughy thighs. 

All of his lecherous starring is worth it though—if only to be able to throw his own saying back at him for once.

“Now, how’s it go again? It’s not peer pressu—”

“—Yeah, yeah, I got it, Princess—My turn.” 

Enjin relents, cutting you off with a twisted grin as he shakes his head.

“Ya don’t gotta break my arm to see my dick, babe. Just makin’ sure you’re sure. Don’t need you runnin’ off telling Semiu I flashed ya.”

Semiu is already on Enjin’s ass for teasing you as much as he does. Something about him being ‘too grown’ not to ‘nut up’ and ‘come to terms with his reality’, but Enjin was never listening for long, zoning out as soon as a new lecture was underway. 

However, if your prissy ass really wants to see his dick that bad, of course he’d oblige. Hell, Enjin would get another kick outta watching your horror when you realize for real just how much he’s packing. It had been a minute since he'd seen that look on a woman.

For being as hot and charming as he is, Enjin didn’t get nearly as much play as he should’ve. He isn’t a virgin by any means, but too many women take one glance at his size and back off expeditiously.  

Life on the ground meant hustling to survive for most. Nobody could afford to be laid up for days just because Enjin’s wrecking ball of a cock tore through their walls, rendering them unable to walk—let alone go to work.

Yet with a clink, that all changes as the leather strap of his belt and gear slides free. Enjin lifts his hips enough to shove his pants down past his thighs and there it is—short red boxer briefs with a black waistband, the fabric stretched thin over the obscenely long, thick outline of his dick resting along his thigh.

Simply put, your jaw drops. There’s a static-like silence buzzing in your mind as you process the monstrous mass of phallic muscle before you.

You’ve never seen a dick that huge in your entire life. 

Clocking your shock, Enjin’s chest puffs like he’s just been crowned a king in the room.

“Relax, Princess…” he drawls, smugness saturating every word.

“I ain’t even all the way hard yet.”

Bullshit! 

Your eyes pingpong between his face and his cock before landing on the obvious conclusion—no overthinking this time.

“What are you waiting for then? Get hard.”

Enjin actually chokes for real this time, still not used to how blunt his demure lil’ Trash Princess gets when she’s high. He manages to laugh regardless once he finds his breath as he sure as hell doesn’t hate this new side of you.

“Hah?! It doesn’t work like that ya know…”

Enjin lies right through his fucking teeth. 

Just hearing that vulgar command from your prissy lil’ lips has his blood surging south, his cock swelling at rapid speed. Already on go, his dickprint thickens, straining against the fabric until threads stretch thin to form almost obscenely over him like second skin.

Yet unlike his past hookups you don’t flinch at the sight of him getting even bigger. 

There’s more than enough incredulousness on your face for sure, but Enjin half expected you to backpedal for the sake of your pussy’s self-preservation and book it out the door. Instead, the look you’re giving his dick is more akin to awe than fear.

Truly, though—you are in awe.

Men weren’t like this on the Sphere. Well, your husband certainly wasn’t.

Older than you by over a decade, your husband’s stamina was so poor he never lasted long. His size, his endurance, and his dismissive comments about your sexual appetite being perversely unbecoming for a lady of your station had you wondering if something was wrong with you this entire time—if you expected too much from sex.

But when your eyes drift back to Enjin—catching the thick vein running along his length, visible even through the fabric—you know better now. 

It was never you.

The realization brings a surge of boldness. Your gaze trails the pulse of his cock down to the wet patch blooming at the tip—so much pre spilling it seeps through the fabric. 

Enjin inhales sharply through his nose. He knows he’s proven his size, but your silence and the way you’re eyeing his cock like some kind of museum exhibit is starting to get to him. 

Enjin doesn’t want to back down as he impatiently waits for your final verdict of approval. But if you keep staring at him like that, with those big pretty eyes of yours, he’s going to come in his pants, untouched, like some fucking cuck.

“Well, Princess? Big enough for ya?”

You don’t even hear Enjin, too lost in your own thoughts. Your body, buzzed and reckless, has a mind of its own though. Reaching out, your hand leaves your lap to trace the thick ridges of his cock, mapping its shape through his briefs. 

“Oh, shiiii—” Enjin hisses. 

His lip catches between his teeth as all thoughts vanish the moment your delicate little fingers start stroking him.

“Argh—fuck. Can’t jus’ go grabbing a man’s dick like that ya know.”

Yet Enjin does nothing to stop you as your touch grows bolder. Your palm flattens around his girth—too thick for even your whole hand to wrap around, even through his boxers.

How would someone even get something that monstrous inside them!?

Encircling his leaky cockhead, you giggle as your index finger slowly tap-tap-taps the mess he’s made there, amused at how many of the small, sticky suds you can gather on your finger through the material.

Enjin’s own laugh is strangled. This can’t be real.

“Heh… fuck… you really tryna kill me, huh, Princess? Fuckin’ tease…”

You’re unfazed by Enjin’s provocations – too mesmerized by the obscenely large cock in front of you that has you squirming uncomfortably as your own panties turn swampy with heat. 

“May I?”

Meeting Enjin’s gaze, your polite innocence is accented by a wide-eyed pout that’s far too sweet for the filthy implications of your request. Like you’re nicely asking permission to play with your favorite toy—except you don’t even wait for him to give it,fingers impatiently snapping the edges of his waistband like some cockhungry slut. 

“Uh…” Enjin blanks while his dick is practically screaming at him to respond—even a damned head nod would suffice. Yet his brain blue-screens as it registers that look—the normally innocent, curiosity filled look that he's been craving since he found you in No Man's Land—now twisted into something debased and filthy.  And best of all?

Meant just for him.

Enjin’s so fucking hard right now it’s painful—and hell, if you’re planning to do something about that, he’s not about to stop you.

“Keh. Do you, boo.”

Enjin manspreads, giving you full access. You eagerly pull down his shorts just enough to release his cock, and it springs free, thick and heavy. 

Good God, he’s a big boy! 

Although you knew that, seeing the monster in all of its unleashed glory was an entirely different experience. Enjin’s dick bobs back to curve towards his abs, a shiny pubic piercing shining at his base under its shadow.

Panting, your previously dormant inner size queen activates. You have to swallow down the bucket of saliva collecting on your tongue before you choke—you can’t help but salivate at the thought of what a huge cock like this tastes like… what it feels like. 

You’re pretty sure it could break you in two, and surprisingly, the thought excites you.

Lowering yourself on all fours, the first tentative lick you give Enjin’s length has his toes curling as he grips the sofa, ripping a chunk clean off the decaying material. 

You moan out a depraved 'ahhh' once you reach the top, a little smile playing on your lips as you tongue down the hole at his tip.  Greedily, you lap up all the little dribbles of pre beading at the tip and flowing out.

“W-Woaaah—ugh. FUCK!”

Enjin’s hand flies into your hair as he clears his throat. Sure, your mouthwatering stares made a blowie likely, but diving in this shamelessly? It’s enough to make him feel like he’s losing his damn mind.

You grip his base—an insurance policy to keep him from cumming—while your other hand cups his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze. His thigh jolts beneath you and you simper at how sensitive he is despite his massive size.

“T-There’s no way in hell they taught your prissy ass how to be this much of a slut up there.”

Pouting, you release his balls to cradle his cockhead against your puffed up cheek, uncaring of the amount of pre seeping across your jaw. 

“D-Do…do you hate it? My hus—um, ex said it was a turn off. H-he'd say I have 'the depravity of a slums streetwalker.”

Staring up at Enjin, your eyes are clouded with lust, yet edged with worry—like he’d threatened to rip something precious away.  But it’s only his cock you’re coddling tighter against your cheek, your lips parting just enough to chase the beads of pre that drip close to your mouth.

If you weren’t gripping Enjin’s base so hard he definitely would have blown a load all over your face. Fuck, if the thought isn’t tempting to him though – he doesn’t think you’d even mind in this state.  

Goddamn, you’re so much sluttier than Enjin could have ever imagined. 

And he’d imagined it plenty. 

Especially on nights Enjin stumbled back to HQ drunk and alone, having closed down the bar with Corvus and Gris. Left to sate his own booze-fueled boner, he’d shamelessly rut into his pillow. Yet, no matter where his perversions strayed, every faceless fantasy in the dark insisted on transmuting into you. 

You seriously think he couldn’t match your freak? 

Oh, sweetheart, you have no fucking idea.

“Hate it?” 

Enjin holds back the growl building at the back of his throat. There’s a torrent of thoughts swirling with his high all at once—all coming to settle right back into his dick. 

“Never. Show me who you really are, Princess—n’ I’ll give it right back to ya tenfold—that’s a promise.”

If you weren’t already trembling with arousal—finally free to let your freak flag fly—you might’ve shied away. Enjin’s easy acceptance of you stirs something deeper, something messy that you usually ignore before it can settle. Now, with his scent thick on your face and tongue, you’re not thinking at all—aching with the urge to all but inhale his cock.

You merely nod, flashing Enjin a coy smile before stretching your plush lips to wrap around him. Slowly, you swallow down his girth, mouth hot with suction so deliciously moist Enjin’s hips jerk up. You gag, but his firm grip on your roots keeps your head in place, forcing his length to breach your throat.

“That’s it, baby…open up f-f’er me—g-good fucking girl, Princess…”

Tears prick at your eyes as his cock pounds back of your throat. The stretch is brutal—but some desperate part of you craves more of his filthy praise. What you can’t take with your mouth, your hands make up for—stroking every thick inch your lips can’t swallow.

“Shiiiit, girl! You’re a pro at this.”

If you ask Enjin later, he’d probably call you a throat goat, however most of your “experience” came from the smutty paperbacks high-society wives hid in corsets and swapped under tea tables—not actual practice. You don’t really know what you are doing. You’re just following the book's explicit instructions. 

Still, Enjin doesn’t seem to mind being your test dummy. 

On the contrary, Enjin is more than happy to let you do your thing and he does just that. Although, the longer your head bobs along his cock, the more your skirt rides up—until it finally flips over your hips, giving him a perfect view of the cheeky lace framing your ass.

Enjin groans, gripping your ass with bruising force before sliding his fingers down to palm your pussy over your panties—fuck, you’re already dripping for him.

“Hah—uppity cunt gets this sloppy just from a lil’ dick sucking, eh?”

Enjin laughs, yet the gravel rattling in his voice betrays him. No one has ever fearlessly tried to deepthroat him and actually fucking enjoyed it. 

Unable to respond with your mouth, too busy still trying to do the impossible and fit more inside your throat, your hips respond instead—wiggling desperately against his fingers, begging for more of his touch. 

Enjin doesn’t hesitate. Slipping a tatted finger into your panties, he drags it through your folds, marveling at how wet and scorching you are. Pushing into your core, your walls clamp down, fluttering around his digit.

Oh fuck, even his fingers are big! 

A second ringed finger follows – the rough, callous fingers of a man who's seen too many fights scrape so good against all your gooey spots. Lewd squelches echo from your pussy as your throat tightens around him in tandem. The sounds, the squeeze, the heat—all of it is driving him crazy.

Shit he’s gonna cum for real this time. 

To his credit, Enjin tries to warn you—tries to pull you off before it’s too late. 

He doesn’t wanna risk pissing you off and having you refuse to ever do this again. Enjin still wants to fool around more;, he wants to fuck you. It’s that thought—your pretty pussy lips splitting open to swallow him instead—that has him busting his hot seed down your throat in thick, hot pulses.

“HAHH—FUHH!”

Releasing your hair, Enjin half expects you to pull away, furious he hadn’t warned you.  Instead, your nails dig into his thigh, steadying yourself. You moan around him, the vibrations rippling through his sensitive cock while you work him for every last drop, his hips jerking beneath you.

Only when you’re certain you’ve drained him do you pull back, swollen lips coming off his cock with a wet pop. 

“Allll go-neee S-Sheee? HAhhhhh~♡”

Tits jiggling as you heave for air, you present your tongue to Enjin as proof you’ve swallowed all of him. Every. Filthy. Drop.

“Oh fuck me… you’re a nasty lil’ Trash Princess, aren’t you?”

You can’t help but agree—your throat’s wrecked and your pussy’s aching to be used just as thoroughly. Enjin’s fingers aren’t inside you any more, although they are still on your pussy, running through your folds absentmindedly.  

“Ngh—n-eed m-more,” you slur.

All your decorum was lost to the wind the moment you asked to see his dick—you don’t even care that it’s Enjin of all people that you just gave head to. Suddenly, the obnoxious pain in your ass seems like your only deliverance. Right now, you're more frustrated that you've spent so much time bickering with him when you could have been fucking him.

You much prefer his moans to anything else coming out of his mouth.

You need him to get hard again—immediately!

Enjin, mind mushy with release, takes another joint out to light. As much as he wants to return the favor after that kind of sloppy top, the man needs a minute.  His high has his whole body tingling from the post release sensitivity.

But you can’t wait any longer. It’s been god knows how long since you’ve had a proper orgasm and those were only from your own small, fumbling fingers. Throat achy and raw, you quiver at the masochistic thought of how his cock is going to absolutely obliterate your pussy.

You slide your panties down before flinging off your jacket and top.  Taking a seat on Enjin's lap, you're now clad in just your bra, your skirt that's bunched up at your hips, and thigh highs. Grabbing his cock, you give his soggy, half-hard girth a few encouraging pumps.

Your pussy is already slobbering, a viscous string of syrupy slick drips down from your slit to land on his cockhead, connecting you to him as you line him up. 

Feeling your fingers around his length, Enjin's eyes fly open, balancing the joint between his lips as he quickly shrugs off his own jacket, checking the pockets.

“Woah, woah. Slow your roll there sweetheart—you’re skipping a few steps.”

You aren’t listening though, not giving a fuck what Enjin is talking about as you cry out, grinding your clit against his fat tip, before running it back through your folds.

Enjin grits his teeth, coughing out smoke as he holds the joint in one hand and your hips in the other. You’re being a brat again, not listening to a single word he’s saying. 

“Gotta find my rubbers…also gotta stretch you out better, Princess—you’re gonna split in two if I don’t.”

You whimper, petulant and needy. You press his cockhead against your entrance, swiveling your hips like you’re going to recklessly sink down on him at any second.

“Huh? Rubbers?” You shake your head in confusion, pouting. “m’Ennnnjiiiiin…I can’t wait that long—puh-leaseee don’t make me wait s’long, Enjiiiiin. I can take it, promiseee!”

The way you sweetly coo his name is shattering any sense of self-control Enjin has left. The urge to submit you to the ultimate corruption surges hot through his veins, but Enjin knows how big he is and while he did want to break you, he didn’t want to hurt you in the process. You are absolutely nuts to want to ride him with so little prep—now, on top of everything else, you apparently wanted him to fuck you raw.

Wait—did you just ask what rubbers were? Did you not have condoms on the Sphere?

But any lingering concerns dissipate the second you start fighting to get his tip inside you.

“Too s-slow!” You groan.

Fear is the last thing on your mind—evident in the way you impale yourself on him, defiant even against the impossible stretch. Your pussy is tight around the swollen head of his cock, strangling it as your nails dig into his shoulders. You grind in slow, desperate circles. Tears roll down your cheeks as you bite them to keep from crying out, your body fighting against every inch.

Enjin watches with a dark glint in his eyes – you trying so hard for him makes him want to flip you over and fuck you into the cushions. But he’d let you have it at your own pace…for now. 

Releasing your hip, Enjin spits into his palm, rubbing his slick fingers over your clit in slow steady circles. 

“Such a hard-headed girl—c’mere…”

Enjin takes a long drag from the joint, balancing it between his fingers as he grabs the back of your neck. His lips crash into yours before you can think.

You gasp and Enjin takes the opportunity to exhale the smoke deep into your lungs, taking the harshest of the hit himself. You're left with only the smooth, earthy flavor warming your chest before it melts through your limbs.

But it’s the way he kisses you after that really knocks the ground out from under you. His tongue pushes past your lips, tangling with yours—hungry, messy, like he wants to steal the little air you have left until you’re only breathing him in.

Your arms wrap around his neck, hands buried in his soft buzzed undercut, anchoring yourself. You moan into his mouth and he swallows it greedily, teeth nipping your lower lip before diving right back in. All the while, his thumb keeps grinding into your clit, faster now, like he’s keeping rhythm with the pulse that’s beating under your skin.

Why does it feel this good? How is he doing this to your body? S’not fair! 

Not realizing you could feel this good from a kiss, you're unraveling in real time. Your mind goes blank with every pulse, every word, every inch. You’re not even fully seated yet, but you can already feel the blunt head of his cock grinding against your cervix, the pressure building with each centimeter you drop. You never imagined you could feel this full—like he might actually breach your womb.

The thought alone has you trembling, unstable, your aching thighs giving out, causing you to slide down a bit too fast. The thick veins along his length rake across your g-spot and your body snaps. A sharp, helpless spasm rocks you as your breath catches and a small, unexpected orgasm rolls through you.

Enjin pulls back just enough to let you breathe, though your body doesn’t stop shivering, lost in a blur of pleasure and pain.

“Eh... did you just cum, Princess?”

The question is rhetorical, full of smug amusement, as he can feel the increasing wetness leaking down his cock, making it all the easier for you to slide down.    

Teasing your earlobe, Enjin’s tongue dips in to flick at the shell of it, making you clench.

“HA! Good fucking girl! A lil’ more and I bet she’ll be a real squirter f’er me.”

Enjin beams, proud of his Trash Princess. No woman had ever taken him this deep—not even close. Enjin hadn’t expected you to be any different. And yet…when Enjin looks down, he releases a groan deep from his gut.

The sight alone almost has Enjin nutting in you -- your drooling cunt spread so wide around his girth, sitting almost at his base. A thought flashes briefly – it's kinda like he’s a virgin again. Parts of his dick had never experienced this kind of molten heat so maybe, in a sense, he is? Enjin didn’t fucking care if he was though, as he ain’t about to be with the way your pretty pussy is giving way like it’s made for him. 

“Run that back.”

Enjin takes the final drag, pinching the smoldering end of the joint between his fingers before flicking it aside. He leans in again, slower this time. There’s no rush in how his mouth seals over yours. The second shotgun is less about the smoke and more about the feel of you—your lips parting for him, your breath syncing to his, and the small whimper you make as he sucks slowly on your tongue.

The haze spreads between you both, thick and warm. Simultaneously, his knuckles tease your clit, a soft schlick sound filling the space between you from you getting wetter by the second. By the strength of some unknown force, you finally bottom out, immediately collapsing into his neck. 

You both moan. Enjin feels you quivering from the inside out and you feel him everywhere—shifting your guts into your ribs. 

“I…I did it.”

Your smile blooms soft against his inked skin, lips grazing the spot where you can feel his own pulse hammering wildly.

Enjin’s in no state to congratulate you on your impressive feat. Completely sheathed in you raw, coring out your gummy walls into the shape of his dick—something in his brain chemistry fizzles. Like a bit of pussy juice, acting as a catalyst, slipped into his dick and traveled straight to his prefrontal cortex to corrode all of his previous thoughts about you. The result is clear.

Enjin doesn’t give a fuck if you are a snobby, annoying, needy lil’ brat who never let him get away with shit and bitches at him constantly—the furtherest thing from his type.

Because honestly?

Motherfuck a bullshit-ass type. Your slutty ass pussy is fuckin’ perfect. 

For the first time, Enjin realizes he might be in love with you. 

How could he even look at another woman after this?

One thing if for certain—Enjin is going to make damn sure you never have the desire to even look at another man.

Both his hands trail up your hips, groping and squeezing the plump curves of your ass before settling at your waist. His blunt black nails dig into your skin to pull you back from his neck.

Enjin whistles, admiring the stagnant stream of spittle lingering on your chin. Look at you—cockdrunk just from sitting on him. 

Enjin doesn’t think he’s ever seen you look more beautiful.

“Enjiiiiiin,” you whimper, not being able to hold yourself up. 

But your cries for him only inflame the predatory smirk on his lips, your honeyed cunt hugging his cock so beautifully. 

“Makes sense you fell from heaven, huh Princess?” 

Whether you're ready or not, Enjin forcibly winds you on his cock in slow circles. Your clit brushes up against the well placed pubic ring like a reward for being the first to experience it.

“—cause this pussy’s a fuckin’ angel.”

Your eyes are already lodged in your skull so you can’t even roll them at his cheesy line. But if your pussy is an angel, then Enjin's dick is most definitely a demon—his sinful cock tearing through your insides and condemning you straight to hell.

Moaning loudly, your body moves on autopilot—chasing more friction from the rhythm Enjin set. Good thing everyone was at happy hour or you would for sure be attracting some major attention now.

Although, to be honest you probably wouldn’t notice anyway. You don’t even notice when your bra falls away, your tits spilling out just so Enjin could watch them jiggle in his face. You only register its disappearance once his mouth latches onto one of your nipples, his tongue finally saying it’s ‘hello’.

“Shiiiiit!”

Your hips stutter, then stall when Enjin tugs at your sensitive bud with his teeth.

“Hey…I know my Trash Princess ain’t tappin’ out just yet.” 

SMACK!

Enjin brings a heavy palm down on your ass and your pussy clenches tighter around him. Enjin relishes the way your plush curves mold to his hands, each smack adding to the wet, messy sounds between you. You’ve already leaked enough on his lap to stain the sofa beneath you.

“Nah, ya just got on the ride, baby. Giddy-up.”

SMACK!

“NNNGH!” You weakly glare daggers at him. 

Any softness on Enjin’s face has since been replaced by something far more mischievous. If you thought he was obnoxious before—you’re about to learn he’s a full-blown menace inside of pussy.

Wobbling, you gather together what little resolve you have left to roll your hips forward. 

“HAAH! S’too biiiiiig,” you whine but your body can’t stop.

The juices saturated between you grant enough momentum to finally get a good, smooth bounce going.

“Fuck—that’s it, ride it like it’s yours, baby.” Enjin encourages you.

The way you cream harder every time he calls you 'baby' doesn't go unnoticed.

“Oh? You like me talking sweet to the pussy, baby girl?—Or do you just like being my filthy lil’ trash slut, hm Princess?”

Gritting your teeth, you grab on to Enjin’s shirt like reins, pulling him closer to you. 

“Y-You’re…gonna—ahshiiiit—hafta f-fuck m’better than thisss…if you want m-me to be your ‘baby girl’—Trash Daddy.”

Unfortunately, your sass falls flat—you can barely keep your head from lulling to the side. But Enjin’s thoroughly entertained nonetheless—he’ll take ‘Trash Daddy’ over ‘Trashy Poppins’ any day.

“Bet.”

Electricity runs through Enjin. He’s all charged up—now it’s his turn to unleash.

Your brow furrows from the noise Enjin makes—you’re not sure if he just laughed or snarled. But it's the only warning you get. 

Sliding down the sofa a bit, adjusting himself for stability, Enjin spreads his legs, planting his feet firmly on the floor as he bullies his cock up into you like he's breaking in his own personal fleshlight.

All you can do is go slack, falling forward on his chest. His grip bruising your hips, not allowing you to run from the way his blunt cockhead plows into your womb like a battering ram. 

The couch beneath you groans, its frame creaking under the strain. The wood and leather protest like the entire thing might fall apart at any moment.

“Enjinnnnn, m’slowwww dowwwnnn!” 

Your cries only fuel his frenzy and Enjin knows from the way you’re gushing on him you can take it.

Fuck—this sweet lil’ pussy is just so good for him. Imagine if he never met you. 

If you never—

Enjin cuts the thought off cold. 

Moving before you can blink—your world flips. One second he’s pummeling up into you, the next you’re on your back. 

Enjin peels away his shirt, muscles flexing as he looms over you. His hands curl around your ankles to keep them pinned overhead. A single bead of sweat catches your bleary eyes as it slides down his bare chest, gliding over firm muscle. The bold ink patterns seem to come alive on his skin. He looks so fucking sexy right now and you can’t help but to shamelessly ogle him.

Yet, there’s something much too serious and somber about Enjin’s current demeanor. You’ve been staring at him far too long to go unnoticed. The highly expressive, sassy powerhouse is rarely this silent. He should be teasing you right now, asking some smartass shit like if you’re ‘enjoying the view’. 

“Enjin?”

Your sweet voice hits his ears and instantly you have his attention again. Enjin flashes you a pearly white smile.

“Heh, enjoy the break, Princess? You wont get another.”

Ignoring the question in your eyes, Enjin folds you into a mating press, thrusting to the hilt all in one motion. The sound of flesh lewdly slapping against flesh fills the room, as do your cries.

But there’s still something else burning in his eyes. Enjin knows it’s unfair not to be honest with you, but taking out his unspoken feelings on your pretty pussy is the only way he can express himself at the moment. 

Suddenly, there’s a loud creak followed by a decisive snap and two of the sofa’s legs give out. If your sweat and cum weren't like glue on the old leather you’d surely slide off head first. You yell out in alarm, but Enjin doesn’t give a fuck about the damn sofa.

His mood is still soured by the thought that wouldn’t be shaken away until he confronted it—

If you never fell.

But you did. He found you—and now that Enjin has you under him like this, he needs to fuck the point he’s concluded into you:

If Rudo ever finds a way to the Sphere, Enjin will personally travel there and see to your ex-husband himself. 

Hell, he might even rail you in front of him a few times—show him what a real man could do. Maybe even a real…husband?

If the sounds of sloshing fluids and skin slapping skin weren't ringing so loudly in your ears that it drowned out everything else, you would have thought Enjin had lost his mind with the way he was cackling above you.  He sounds completely deranged, laughing at the idea of him finally wanting to settle down all while continuing to pound you deeper into the broken sofa.

But despite being high off weed and your pussy, Enjin’s mind has never been more clear—he wants to lock you down.

“Hah… P-Princess, can ya feel me in your tummy? Right…” Enjin’s golden eyes lock on the ever-so-slightly distended bulge from the monstrous intrusion in your guts.

“....right, here.” 

Throwing your legs over his shoulders, his large hands splay across your sweat sheened belly. You’re squirming under the heat of Enjin sandwiching your guts between his palm and his cock. Its all far too much—you’re too full, unable to really focus on what Enjin’s saying.

“Ahh, E-Enj—m’ c-cum, g-gonna mmm…” you hiccup, swallowing your tears.

Your nails rake down his arm to ground yourself but your body is thrumming too hard, adrift in the rush rolling through every one of your wired nerves. Your tits bounce obscenely every time your velvety walls devour his cock back down to the base. Enjin’s pubic piercing bucking against your clit has you clutching onto his dick like you were about to break it off.

You feel so fucking good. Enjin desperately needs to feel you creaming on his cock, and you would be soon if your kitten nails raking down his arms– adding more red to his already inked skin– were any indication. 

“That’s it, Princess, hah—fuck, baby, I got you. Squirt for your Trash Daddy.”

As if on command, the knot inside you coils to its breaking point, prickling every nerve, releasing a warm rush of fluids. Your body tingling in ecstasy, you quickly tumble over your peak, eyes blinded by speckles of brightness as you cum.

Yet Enjin hasn't slowed, his continuous pounding forcing more of your cum and squirt to gush out of you—the melody of his now drenched balls colliding with your wet ass only growing loude

“Fuck, that’s it. Pussy cryin’ like she wants my cum, Princess…” 

You’re barely conscious from all the pleasure, eyes rolling back into your head. 

“She’s jealous that slutty throat of yours got all my cum, now it’s her turn to swallow, isn’t that right?”

It’s a rather roundabout way for Enjin to ask if he can nut inside you, but then again, he wasn’t really asking. The thought of breeding you makes him feral. 

“Ahh—f’nnghhhh!”

Non-verbal and fucked dumb, you’d probably agree to anything right now. You’re an utter mess–pussy stretched beyond anything you thought possible, face sticky with slobber rolling down to pool in the folds of your neck. 

“O’course it is…gonna dump all these trash babies into my princess’ sweet lil’ cunt.”

Although you are super turned on by the thought of Enjin breeding you, there's no way you have any idea how serious Enjin is about putting a baby in you. How could you? You don’t even realize the love confession his cock is professing to you.

“FUHHHH—take it!”

Enjin pumps thick ropes of his cum into your tummy as his body thrashes on top of yours. The primal intensity has you vibrating as another orgasm rips through your overstimulated and overworked pussy. Filled the brim, his spunk overflows, sploshing out of your pussy as he rocks his hips, urging his seed deeper to plant right in your womb.

In the afterglow, the two of you lie off-kilter in a tangled heap on the broken sofa. There’s blood rushing to your head— not the worst place for it, you think, all things considered. Enjin’s weight is heavy, his chest heaving into yours, warm and sticky as he wraps you in his arms. 

Just as you feel you both might drift off like this, Enjin stirs. Flinching, you whimper as Enjin wills himself up, his cock sliding out of your pussy with a squelchy suctioning noise. Your knees part for him with zero resistance as he inspects his handiwork, peeling apart your battered pussy lips to reveal your dug out slit. 

“Whewww,” Enjin whistles at the sight of the thick creampie glistening in your core. “All this cum your cute pussy pulled outta me—you’d think she was my jinki.”

Sober, you likely would have slapped him for referring to your pussy as his vital instrument. But ecstasy clouds your logic, so high off endorphins and other substances, you only giggle. It is kinda funny you suppose.

“Yeah—squirtin’ on command like that. Definitely an attack type.”

Spread open, the thick plug of spunk froths out of you. But Enjin simply tuts, pushing it right back in, not wanting to waste a single drop.

“Yeah, how about that, ’mma duel wielder! Yup, definitely gotta name ‘er now—what you thinkin’ I should call her, princess?”

Enjin sees the way your pretty cunny is twitching, and in his pussy drunk mind, it's an approval. The spasms that still quake through you are like tremors of Morse Code—your slutty pussy agreeing with him, begging for more. Flipping you over on your belly, Enjin is more than happy to fulfill any request of his new vital instrument.

“Got it! Cumbringer! The Umbreaker and The Cumbringer. Nice ring to ‘em, dont’cha think?”

Cumbringer!?

Later, you would definitely regret being so thoroughly fucked out of your mind you didn’t put a stop to this. Enjin is most definitely going to be insufferably proud of himself for the next 3-6 business weeks. He’d lord this over you and tease you with not-so-subtle hints around the rest of the cleaners. 

Yet, as Enjin is swabbing his huge cock through your folds, you feel the ache of loss in your core, wanting to be filled again and you can’t seem to find the fucks to care—you just needed more of his dick, like…now.

Pleased with your compliance, Enjin thumbs the dips at the small of your back, perching your ass up so your back arches real nice.

“Trash Daddy’s gonna take real good care of Cumbringer from now on, too. Make ‘er live up to the name.”

When Enjin pushes into you again, the new angle has him bullying against your g-spot with even more intensity than before. Seeing the way you jolt, he holds back from going as deep this time to directly abuse the spot. Slick runs down your legs and despite how slippery the ruined leather cushions are beneath you, Enjin still holds you firm as his cock sloshes through your ruined pussy.

“Say, how much anima you think is in my nut, Princess?”

You don’t respond but Enjin, proving to have the stamina of a beast, feels like he should give you at least two more doses just to be sure.

⛓

Fading in and out of a euphoric stupor, you’re unsure how much time passes. Absolutely cockdrunk, at some point, you’d simply just surrendered. Your pussy clearly has zero complaints about being a jinki for Enjin’s cock and you are too dumb once you get a lil dick to stop him.

Somehow, you’ve ended up folded over the wide coffee table. It’s unstable beneath you, but Enjin doesn’t seem to care what he breaks when he’s fucking you. He only moved from the sofa when the back of it finally broke.

Straining, you think you hear voices but everything feels so far away and fuzzy. The room gets darker and you realize Enjin’s thrown his coat over you. Still sheathed deep inside you, Enjin’s cock plants lazy kisses to your womb as he speaks rather casually to someone.

Hmm, did he get a call? Is that Semiu?

Semiu is likely calling, wondering why you both haven’t shown up to happy hour yet—shit. There’s no way you’re making it in this condition; your limbs are toast. You can’t even move the weight of Enjin's bulky jacket off of you, the heavy material trapping you in the humidity of your own breath and sweat. But in a way, the warmth is comforting. Your cheek resting against the wood, you allow the tent of muggy heat and his cock moving languidly inside you to lull you into complacency— in your delirium, everything feels like a nice dream.

Yet Enjin is fully alert, a shit eating grin on his face as he stares down Semiu and Gris who had just walked in on Enjin shamelessly beating your doonies down. Enjin only spared your modesty by covering you up, but he has no qualms with either Gris or Semiu seeing him in all his glory and doesn’t even bother pulling out of you.

A fact that is painfully clear as he pats the pockets of his jacket draped over you for his cigs—he might as well smoke if he’s giving you a break.

“I win,” Semiu turns to Gris, hand out expectantly.

Semiu’s cool expression never changes but there is amusement in her eyes as Gris fishes into his pockets and places a stack of bills into her hand.

“Tsk, damn…” Gris shakes his head, although he’s not shocked. 

The two of you are down so horrendously bad for each other that this should have happened long ago as far as everyone else was concerned. The tension has been at an unbearable level for those around you, the way the two of you picked at each other non-stop like a kid’s first crush.

Alas, you’re an airhead and Enjin is so stubborn he’s delusional. So the older Cleaner members couldn’t help, but place bets on when and where you and Enjin would finally slip between the sheets. Its a shame that you weren't in one of your beds right now--in between actual sheets--instead of the lounge becoming collateral damage.

“You know, after all the game you talked about winning your money back at poker tonight, Bro said you were a no-show because you knew you were gonna lose…” Gris eyes the boneless, quivering lump that is you under Enjin’s jacket. 

Enjin really did a number on you. Your nonsensical babbles pouting for Enjin to ‘make sure to tell Semiu to bring you back some fries from the bar’ obviously means you have no idea that they are actually in the room.

“But it looks like you have your ‘ace in the hole' for an entirely different game.”

Enjin chortles. His hips stutter forward a bit too hard and you squeak in protest, he just hushes you.

“Awe, so you came back all this way to check-up on us? How sweet,” Enjin says sarcastically, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Hardly. Rudo accidentally chugged an entire beer he thought was soda—then proceeded to throw it all up over Zanka,” Semiu says flatly. 

Enjin attempts to hold back his laughter as Semiu continues with a sigh. She explains thatGris helped carry Rudo back, promptly putting his little blacked out ass to bed. Zanka locked himself in the bathroom immediately upon returning.

“Although they're sure to be occupied for the rest of the night, since the kids are back in the building you need to wrap this shit up Enjin—she looks like she could use the break anyway.”

Semiu casts a sympathetic look your way. She did warn you about Enjin though, so he was your mess to deal with now. 

“Sure thing,” Enjin says, patting your form underneath his coat, “I’ve trained my new jinki well enough for tonight.” 

Semiu takes one look at the absolutely diabolical grin on Enjin’s face and decides she's already had enough of his shit for the night.

She sighs again. “Just hurry it up, alright?”

Enjin gives Semiu a cheeky salute. Yet the second her back is turned, Enjin mimes a dramatic chef’s kiss to the air for Gris. Enjin’s eyes roll back like he’s just had the best meal of his life. 

Gris snorts, shooting him a wink and a thumbs-up for a ‘job well done’ like a proud teammate before heading out of the room as well.

“One more thing.”

Semiu pauses in the doorway, hands resting on the double doors, surveying the crime scene-like state of the lounge. The sofa is toast, the coffee table’s on life support, and there's a growing puddle under you, spilling over to slowly drip off its edge onto the floor.

“If you’re just going to recklessly rawdog her, at least get her on the pill. Alice can sort that out tomorrow—right after you replace every piece of furniture you’ve both annihilated.”

Enjin simply shrugs, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“I suppose…we can stop by Alice’s too.” 

Semiu just rolls her eyes, only to wrinkle her nose as a wave of stale air wafts by.

“And for the love of god—crack a window. Smells like fresh ass in here.”

Once the doors finally click shut, Enjin rips his jacket off of you and smiles. You’re still blissed out in lalaland while your pussy, Cumbringer, is clenching around him like she has one more go left in her.

Grabbing your arm, he pulls you up. Still sheathed inside you, he sits back on his knees, bringing you with him, your back pressed against his chest.

“Mmmm—*yawns* Was that Semiu on the call, Enj?”

Call? Oh, heh.

“Ha, yeah baby girl, just Semiu on the line,” Enjin lies too easily. 

It’s for your own benefit though–no need to ruin your bliss with anything silly like embarrassment or shame from being walked-in on. Hell, unless Semiu says something, Enjin might be able to get away with not ever telling you.

“She said they ran outta fries though. I’ll get ya some later, yeah? Jus’ need Cumbringer to clock in one more time, Princess...”

Enjin rocks his hips with yours in a slow wave and your pout melts, no longer caring about the fries. Your head tips back onto his shoulder as he wraps his arms around you.

“Ah, mmmm, b-but—ngnh!  She mentioned something about hotdogs and getting pills tomorrow? Is that a mission?”

Enjin hums to keep from laughing as he turns your face towards him. He smirks devilishly against your lips.

Distracting you with sweet chaste kisses, Enjin rubs gentle circles over your womb. You’re gonna be so fucking hot waddling around HQ in your slutty ass uniform, tits leaking and belly full with his brats. 

The only pill he’d get from Alice would be a fertility pill.

“Nothing my slutty baby girl or my Cumbringer gotta worry about, Princess. Leave everything t’me.”

𝐚𝐧: ahh tysm for reading, especially if you are new to my writing. enjin brain rot is lethal. i needed to get this outta my system! jjk girlies forgive me for straying from my wip list and kinktober lol. definitely down to write more of him. i have a p2 and another enjin story (an AU) idea. but i have to focus on my jjk kinktober now! ♡

gojo’s thumbing your thighs on national television.

not the fleshy surface, he’s much too crass for that. gojo satoru dips bony fingers into the split in your thighs & pouts when you shoot him a glare. his glower melts into grin; you think he has too many teeth.

“look, i flirt. that’s like, breathing for me. but y/n? first girl who ever made me question my skills,” he turns to you, “that’s why i flirt with her the most.”

“i’d say i’m honored, but you’d flirt with a wall if you could.”

gojo satoru doesn’t sport his blind-man glasses for a change. his hair is sweat soaked & sticky & full of half-curls. when you’re done speaking he makes a show of clutching his chest in pain, eyes rolled shut like chestnut shells.

“dramatic,” you mutter but your tone is fond. you reach out a palm to cup his cheek but he takes your palm & kisses it instead. his lips are summer sticky. there’s peach shine where he kissed your hand.

satoru grins.

“you’re the only one for me in this villa,” he hums into your palm, “and unless zendaya shows up, it’s staying that way.”

“that’s not the romantic closing statement you think it is.”

★ NANAMI X Y/N ⎯⎯ FAN TWITTER !

luvolandria says:

y’all i could NEVER be a casa girl do u see how they treat y/n ?? and omg she’s such an angel notice how she keeps it classy even when they outright BULLY her. tumblr please give this queen my 100k

penguinn0 says:

‘just realized that the reason nanami didn’t kiss y/n for like five eps is because she said she’s scared of being used and he doesn’t want her to think that’s the case w him??? bye if they get dumped i’m dropping the show’

kubzscouts-is-my-wifey says:

‘omg y/n is SO pretty she literally looks like princess tiana ?? but i lwk don’t want her nd nanami to win they’re kinda boring imo😭’

ⓘ CONFESSIONALS

‘y/n and nanami, what do you have to say about your relationship ?’

being with nanami burned like hell.

but you won’t say that on national television. not when you’re half-sat on his lap & his palm sleeps heavy on your hips. you shift & he pats your thigh. aching, automatic.

“i’d say that for y/n and i, things haven’t mostly been easy.”

you cough, an understatement. but kento pays you no mind. he keeps spilling words from the jugular.

“y/n’s been especially strong, and that’s one of the things i admire about her. it wasn’t easy coupling up despite the opposition, but i’m forever grateful she chooses to stay by my side regardless.”

he grips your palm & you squeeze back.

“what kento and i have is real,” you soften, “and i’d be damned if i let some villa bitch ruin it.”

kento’s lip twists. you swear you see a smile.

★ TOJI X Y/N ⎯⎯ FAN TWITTER !

percabeth4ever says:

‘tumblr as much as i love watching them pls DO NOT let them win !! ik toji irl and he’s literally a beggar on my street, he did NOT come here for love 😭’

holdingspace4cierra says:

‘yall i’d hate to be the other islanders🧍‍♀️ imagine trying to get your 8 hours in but y/n & toji doing it raw right next to you smh 🥀

kiribaku4l says:

‘bad bitch w a bad boy we LOVE to see it. and the way u can literally feel their sexual tension through the screen?? yeah I’m taking them to the finals🙏.’

ⓘ CONFESSIONALS

‘y/n and toji, what do you have to say about your relationship ?’

“y/n’s annoying,”

“excuse me?”

toji’s slouched & heavy boned on the comforter, one arm thrown lazy over your seat as he shrugs. “bossy. picks fights if i breathe wrong. way too complicated.”

“like your financial situation.”

you’re promptly ignored. “and she never stops running her mouth—unless my hand’s on her throat.”

you don’t miss the way the camera man coughs.

“but she’s smart. sharp. and when she’s asleep? clings to me like she’ll die if i leave.”

you blink, voice small as your fingers curl around his wrist. your brows furrow & your lips are tugged downwards as if you’re trying to recall every moment you’ve ever slept together. “i don’t do that.”

“you do,” a pause. “kills me every time.”

“still not splitting the money though.”

you look up at him & his lips are bent in a clumsy grin. you pinch his side,

“try it and die.”

★ SUGURU X Y/N ⎯⎯ FAN TWITTER !

sodapoppp says:

‘when suguru comes on screen so i come too 💔’

ishowmeat says:

‘are we not gonna talk about how getou cried more when he thought satoru was gonna leave the island than when the same happened to y/n…get this man off my screen🤦‍♀️’

master-jinshis-cumslut says:

‘these two gotta be the FIRST couple in love island history to actually use the swimming pool😭 also that challenge when y/n gave him a lap dance ??? foaming at the mouth omg’

ⓘ CONFESSIONALS

‘y/n and suguru, what do you have to say about your relationship ?’

“that lap dance was me proving a point,”

you’re idly playing with the collar of his shirt, knuckles brushing his lips as he presses half-pecks to your skin. getou hums, “and what point is that ?”

“you’re not as unbothered as you pretend to be.”

suguru sighs as if defeated, eyes pressed shut & your palm trailing down his shirt as he sinks into the comforters. “you caught me,” he breathes, “hard to fake unbothered when you looked at me like you knew what you were doing.”

“i did know,” you smile sweetly, tucking yourself into his side. his palm smooths heavy over your arm & you lean up like you’re about to peck him on the lips—then don’t. he frowns.

“you breathe different when you’re jealous.”

he pokes your nose, “and you grin when you think you’ve won.”

his fingers rub circles on your thigh, slow & sure & syrup heavy, “you like getting reactions out of me, don’t you?”

you hum into his side, “i wanna see you crack.”

“careful,” suguru shifts you so your knee’s in his lap, lips pressed into your hair. “you might get addicted to what comes out.”

the producers have to remind you this is a confession booth.

★ SUKUNA X Y/N ⎯⎯ FAN TWITTER !

mamoushii says:

‘y/n and sukuna are really miscommunication final boss—like wdym they BOTH brought back ppl from casa just cuz they couldn’t tell if the other would be serious about closing off?? is this love island or blue spring ride omg.’

mirawontmiss says:

‘the way sukuna was acting like the prize at first then switched up when he realized y/n won’t chase him LMFAOO’

nicolandria101 says:

‘the way sukuna almost STRANGLED that casa guy over y/n??? I KNOW THAT COOKIE GOOD 🙌’

ⓘ CONFESSIONALS

‘y/n and sukuna, what do you have to say about your relationship ?’

“i think sukuna confuses control for care.”

“and i think y/n confuses silence with indifference.”

you glare at him. sukuna is unbuttoned sun-shirt & silver chain glinting across his chest. he meets your gaze from the corner of his eyes,

“you act like if i don’t say it, it isn’t real.”

“because you don’t say it.”

sukuna’s tone dips, low, dangerous: “i show it. when i didn’t kiss that casa girl. when i socked that guy who tried to touch you. when i slept on the daybed ‘cause you were mad at me.”

your arms are still crossed over your chest. you don’t meet his eyes.

“don’t tell me i don’t care when you’re the only one i lose sleep over.”

your heart claws up your throat. you’re chewing your cheek trying to suppress the bubbling in your chest. you bite your tongue,

“you still brought back someone from casa too.”

“so did you,” he quips. “guess we’re both fucked.”

you lean your head against his shoulder. “guess we are.”

the islanders have spoken, it’s time for tumblr to cast its votes !

THE VOTES HAVE BEEN CAST ! TUMBLR HAS SPOKEN !

TOJI AND Y/N HAVE BEEN DUMPED FROM THE ISLAND !

Although you haven’t seen Gojo much lately and are usually happy to see him, his timing this time irritates you for a couple reasons—first, of course he’d interrupt right in the middle of your much-needed girl time! You were desperate to hang with your friends again, especially after being stuck in lockdown for the last 2 weeks.

There was some juicy tea getting spilled on the call too! 

More importantly, you weren't in a hurry to get up from the sofa—especially with your freshly painted white toes you’d propped up on the coffee table to dry. The last thing you wanted was to ruin them by getting dust on them while answering the door when Gojo wasn’t even supposed to be here right now.

“BBL, y’all.”

Reluctantly ending the call, you switched over to your Ring camera app. 

Sure enough, the security feed loads to reveal Gojo, grinning up at the camera with his glasses perched on the brim of his nose and a large pink shopping bag in hand.

Huh? There’s no way he’s off-work already! 

Taking note of the time it reads 1:30 p.m. confirming that Jujutsu society’s strongest sorcerer is skipping out on work, again—pshh typical. 

“C’mon babe, let me in!”

Urgh, what was he even doing here?! 

Shouldn’t he be the one leading the charge to kill all the doppelgängers? The faster he exorcized them, the sooner you’d finally be able to go outside again.

This doppelgänger outbreak felt like covid quarantine all over and it sucked! 

Satoru needed to get his ass back to work so you wouldn’t waste the best years of your life cooped up inside!

“Go away, doppelgänger!”

You use the intercom feature to speak to Gojo, still not budging from the sofa.

Gojo pouts.

“But it's me, baby! Open the door Bunny bae, please I missed you princess—it’s been too long!”

Satoru’s annoyingly pretty baby blues look even bigger as he pleads into the camera, his lip quivering, making you roll your eyes.

It’s barely been 48 hrs since you’ve last seen him and he still blows up your texts all day! 

But the world’s strongest sorcerer was also the world’s clingiest—so you suppose his doppelgänger would be too. Although, you were pretty sure this was the real deal, that still didn’t mean you wouldn’t give him shit for skipping out on work.

“Huh, that’s funny because there's no way you could be my boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, the strongest—and the one who is supposed to be making sure I’m not stuck in the house for another 2 years. It’s been freaking 2 weeks already Toru, I’m going batshit in here!”

Pushing his glasses back in place Gojo hides his scoff, standing up straight. 

Shit.

He hopes you aren’t onto him. 

Sure, he could have contained this whole thing in a few days tops.

Despite the doppelgänger ability to mimic appearances and cursed energy patterns, Gojo’s Six Eyes could see right through it easily. His power allowed him to perceive the core of a soul with perfect clarity, instantly distinguishing the souls of a human and a curse.

But instead of resolving the problem quickly, Gojo made up all kinds of excuses to you (and especially to the higher-ups) about why it was taking longer than expected. 

The truth was, simple though—for once, just this once, he decided he had earned the right to be selfish.

Not having met you until after the covid quarantine, Gojo had never experienced that kind of isolation with you—and was immensely jealous that your last boyfriend had. Now that he had a taste of it, there was nothing he wanted more than to keep his lil bun-bun safely caged up, waiting for his return everyday (and he did try to make it back everyday).

Okay, so he is in fact being really selfish.

Luckily for everyone else though, most of these doppelgänger  curses are relatively harmless other than causing absolute chaos with their mere existence alone—unfortunately they could also be seen by people even lacking cursed energy.

Gojo took care of the stronger ones, the ones with more nefarious intentions, while letting the little ones continue to run loose—all so he could have you to himself. 

Unbeknownst to you, Gojo is intentionally sentencing you to what seems like a never ending cycle of boredom so that when he finally gets home you cling to him like a grain of sweet sticky rice. So eager for any external stimuli or interaction you’d be up for all manner of his perversions you’d normally shoot him down for.

That didn’t mean you weren’t still a brat though, making him work for it—something that Gojo also noted was his fault though for spoiling you rotten, not being able to deny you anything. So you pretend to be annoyed when he showed up, but Gojo knew the truth—those thick thighs of yours would soon have your slick running down. Your cute, slutty lil pussy would start dripping the moment you’d hear his voice.

Yeah, yeah, he’d get rid of those things eventually—but Gojo was going to enjoy this quarantine with you for a bit longer. 

“Even the strongest need a break baby! I need my sweet lil’ energizer Bunny to recharge my batteries, eh?”

You crinkle up your nose seeing him wiggle his eyebrows on camera. 

He's such a dorky cornball.

“And this break…it’s approved by Yaga, hm?” Gojo whines at your questioning, not wanting you to deny him any longer nor throw technicalities in his face he didn’t wanna have to answer.

“Come on, Bunny! I even brought you real nice gifts to show you how much I missed you!”

The hot pink shopping bag sways in front of the camera, Gojo dangling it as if it were supposed to be a tempting treat. 

But he’d have to do better than some generic pink shopping bag to impress you!

You’ve gone back to your toenails, starting to apply the top coat while you let him squirm out there for a while longer. You knew he could break the barrier in the blink of an eye but you also knew that he was a big enough baby to want you to let him in on your own. 

Well tough luck brah.

“That sure doesn’t look like a Chanel shopping bag, Toru!”

“Um, that’s cause it’s not—Bunny you told me you don’t even like me picking you out clothes anymore!”

You clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes—of course you said that as whenever Gojo picked something out for you, it ended up being the most scandalous or over-the-top piece in the store. How he would even managed that at a classy brand like Chanel, you had no idea. (Though, little do you know, in reality, he always acted they were ready-to-wear while they were custom-made—just for you.)

“I got us some toys, baby bun! Don’t you wanna play with me?”

You don’t need to ask him ‘what kind of toys’ from the goofy ass expression that is on his face. 

“That’s not making me want to let you in at all, Doru!”  

“Hah? Wha—Doru!?”

“Yeah, short for Dopple-Toru.”

You try to keep a straight face but can’t help giggling as you sneak a peek at your phone, still putting on as if you're completely ignoring him. His expression on the camera is priceless though and you wish you could snap a screenshot of his mouth wide open, glasses nearly sliding off, looking utterly incredulous.

“Hey! Come on, Bunny bae, that's not funny! I know you know it’s me—and I also know your pretty pussy misses me!” 

Oh knew, it was your perv ass boyfriend and yeah you did miss him—but you missed your freedom more! And for that reason you are gonna make him think twice before trying to skip out on work again. Not to mention, for having the nerve to show up once you finally found something interesting to stave away your boredom other than him!

“Hmm, I don’t know—prove it then, Doru…”

While Gojo loves goading you into playing games and usually lets you win them too, after nearly 48 ‘grueling hours’ away from you, all he wants now is to simply relax in your company. Ya know, nothing too crazy, just the typical cuddles with him calmly resting his face on your titties while his cock nestles deep up against your cervix—just something casual.

Gojo calling your bluff, ups the ante.

“Heh, kay…”

You’re actually not paying attention this time, admiring your work on your toes and contemplating on the color you should paint your fingernails as Gojo goes silent for a moment. 

Yet once you hear a loud zip, the rustling of fabric, and a belt clank to the ground your eyes practically bulge out of your head as you grab your phone, bringing it comically close to your face while blinking multiple times just to be sure. 

Satoru quite literally has dick and balls out, dangling in the breeze, in front of the entire goddamn neighborhood!

And despite your initial horror and best efforts to remain upset, you pause, your inner slut causing a slight brain malfunction—as even from the small ring camera you can see his deliciously thick cock bobbing fully erect while his mushroomy tip shamelessly drips viscous globs of pre onto your welcome mat.

Thankfully your short-circuiting of common sense only lasts a few seconds before it starts functioning again.

“TORU HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING SUGAR-FUELED MIND!? YOU KNOW THE HOA IS ONE MORE INCIDENT AWAY FROM KICKING ME OUT, RIGHT!?”

Sighing, you groan in dismay as you’ve been on thin ice with your HOA for a while now because of Gojo. 

Not only have you received the most noise complaints in the neighborhood by far, but he also made ‘alterations’ to your home by installing unsanctioned rows of cypress trees. Claiming it was a safety precaution to block the view inside your home from your ‘sketchy neighbors.’ He also ever so obnoxiously takes up 2 parking spots on the street so no one could even “park too close to scratch his Benz” and even sometimes double parked in front of your neighbors house when all the street parking was taken.

You would most definitely be kicked out if anyone in the neighborhood saw all of Gojo’s fairly large bits and pieces freely on display.

And yeah, Gojo did know that. 

He also knew if you got kicked out and had to move you’d have no excuse then not to move-in with him.

Where else would you be able to stay on such short notice? He soon turn that temporary situation into a more permanent one too.

Finally leaping to your feet, you practically trip over yourself—all thoughts of preserving your polish forgotten—as you sprint to the front door.

You can’t get there fast enough, yet as soon as you do, you don't hesitate to lower the barrier and fling the door open.

“Hey sweetn—”

Cutting him off, you grab Gojo by his collar and yank him inside before slamming the door shut behind you.

But you don’t get a chance to scold him. The moment you turn to face him, your lips suddenly meet his, and his large frame envelops yours into a warm embrace.

Your first instinct is to push him away, but even when meeting your furious eyes he just grins knowingly—twirling his pointer finger in the air above him. You frown, confused, until it hits you—Gojo has set up another barrier over your own.

No one could have seen him, but he’d let you believe that so you’d let him in faster.

Urgh, Toru is far too crafty for his own damned good.

It's your turn to pout now, having clearly lost this round badly. 

But Gojo doesn’t let the expression linger—his mouth is hot and hungry on yours again in an instant. Your soft lips are easily parted by his thumb as he slows to tease his way past your lips to glide his silken tongue into your mouth causing him to sigh—you taste sweeter than any candy to him.

The kiss soon turns more passionate as the strokes of his tongue flick longingly over yours, devouring you as he skillfully melts away your anger—in addition to all the bones in your legs. Reduced to a puddle of goo you completely forget you were just about to cuss him out as your legs now press together from the throbbing between your thighs. Your need becoming more agonizing as you grow dizzy from the lack of air.

When Gojo finally lets you breathe again, he chuckles at your dazed expression. Your lids are lowered and you press your body deeper into his own, clutching onto his collar as you nestle your face into his neck, savoring his scent washing over you. 

“So despite all that sass, I take it you actually missed me then?”

You nod eagerly against his skin, in spite of yourself. Even though he isn’t supposed to be here right now, you can’t hold back any longer how happy you are to see him.

“And my pretty Bunny girl is going to let me play with her now?—All of her?”

You gasp as Gojo does not wait for an answer before slipping a hand into your shorts. Hissing at your heat, Gojo swipes his thumb over the outer folds of your cunt and his fingers quickly are becoming soaked before they even got the chance to get up inside you.

Placing a chaste kiss on your temple Gojo's agile fingers had merely confirmed what he already knew: You’re utterly drenched—his needy, cute lil’ pussy was quite literally begging for him and who was he to deny her?

ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩

“F—Fuck! P-pussy too good. Keep the phone up though, nice and straight Bunny! T-That’s it, you’re the best! SHIIIIT— n’you got the cutest sluttiest lil cunny! C-Can you get a close up of how well my cock is digging out your pretty lil’ bunny hole?”

“Mmmgh!”

Gojo’s filthy words and his even filthier fat cock are bringing you closer to your ecstasy filled ruin as they push you past your limits, engorged veins scraping your walls with every thrust. You're covered in sweat and your entire body buzzes—quite literally as there are vibrating clamps suctioned onto each of your nipples. 

Mmmm, it all was driving you wild!

Not imagining yourself in this position when you woke up this morning at all.

Especially as initially, when Gojo said he bought toys, you thought he had meant fuzzy handcuffs, silken ropes or maybe even some more of that warm edible candle wax that tastes like strawberries—but all this!? 

You could barely see out of your bleary, tear-filled eyes completely caking your cheeks in streaks of your mascara that while supposedly waterproof, definitely is not Gojo Satoru proof. 

In addition to the mind-numbing bliss radiating off your swollen perky buds, your body was covered in some sort of edible oily slick. The warmth was initially similar to that of candle wax—yet morphed into anything but. This time the heat was coming from the flames your own body generated as the effects of the candied warming oil made every part of you saturated in the fluid buzz with need. 

Of course, after soaking your body with it down the tips of your toes and paying extra attention to your nipples, Gojo had been thoughtful enough to pour the most of the remaining bottle over your throbbing lil’ clit. 

Except now there isn’t just a shallow throb between your legs as the fiery sensation of every individual nerve in your cunt was cries out for him to ruin you harder. 

Your legs are wrapped around him impossibly tight as your heels dig into the small of his back and yet somehow, he still manages to snake a hand between your slippery bodies to pet his favorite girly spot on you—your clit. Toying with the swollen nub in a painfully slow manner compared to the intensified thrashing of his hips against your own. 

The motions only serve to push the heart-shaped platinum and pink sapphire adorned butt plug deeper into your ass with every loud vulgar smack of your wet bodies joining—the strange feeling of it jostling against the very walls his cock was drilling has you drooling as Gojo further tests the limits of passion he can push over.   

“C’mon Bunny, you're going to miss the best part, ya better capture it really well how much squirt I can pump out of this cute cunny—or we’ll simply just have to do another take. Not that I’d mind spending all day in your pussy…”

You're not in your right mind to scold him for trying to skip out on more work and you certainly don't have the full capacities to hold his phone up any better—what with your hands were tied together over your head to the bed. Gojo utilizing the fuzzy cuffs afterall.

You can’t even really see if you are getting the right angle as you desperately hold onto the device, keeping it straight and upright lest it slip and drop right on your head. 

“Always such a good girl for me huh, princess?”

Tuh—like he was giving you a choice!

You're unable to clap back though as your tongue, so lax from all the pleasure, sinks back to the roof of your mouth. The slobber gathered pools past your lips, over your chin, down your neck to your tits and Gojo is eager to slurp the train up your body and back to your lips, kissing you. 

It goes without saying, but Gojo in ‘director’ mode is absolutely diabolical. 

The reason being needs the perfect footage of him playing in your guts to make sure he had good enough material to fap to if you wanted him to spend more time away from you while he hunted down the doppel-curses.

“Be good for me a bit longer, ‘kay baby?”

Yet his gentle coos don’t match his demeanor. 

Glasses long discarded, Gojo’s own blue eyes looked crazed. He’s unconcerned with the sweat matting his hair to the sides of his face or the wave of slick your pussy splashes onto his taut abs. Abs are shuddering from just how tight of a hold your pussy has on him—working him overtime as his heavy pants soon twist into deranged lil whines.

“M-Me and my lil’ buddy missed our two girls so, so, s-sooo much—AH-HAH-F-FAHHHCK! G-Gotta show ya just how much!” 

Shamelessly, Gojo had dubbed his cock—his little buddy—the joke that would have emasculated some men but Gojo made it intentionally with the irony that he was anything but little.

“T-They were made for each other baby—lil’ buddy and the wet pretty girl between these thighs, yeah?”

The ham that he is, Gojo always sounds extra insane whenever a camera is recording, howling with amusement when he watches the playbacks. Yet in this very moment, he was as serious as a heart attack—and you definitely weren't laughing as your weeping pussy gets pounded into deeper into ecstasy filled oblivion. 

“Shhh—Stawwp, S’toruuuuu!”

Tsk, you still could form a coherent thought?  

That simply wouldn’t do for Gojo who is working so hard and bought all these new toys to see you come completely undone—and he needed you too soon as he wouldn’t last much longer in your squishy gooey core himself—not how your cunt was holding him in the wettest sluttiest lil hug. 

There's still one item left that he hadn't used yet though, that in trying to keep up his sleeve he'd nearly forgotten about entirely—his own brain quickly leaving itself on simmer by your greedy lil’ pussy sucking him in so sloppy.

Slightly changing your position for more leverage, he throws one of your legs on his shoulder slotting himself between your cushy thighs while he straddles the other leg. Fucking you sideways with increasing intensity from the bruising grip on your hips pulling your pelvis towards on him as he meets your thrusts smacking directly into your cervix.

“Heh, I know what will finish you off! Ya ready to cum baby? Squirt all on this dick you love so much, eh Bunny?—Yeah ya fuckin' will.”

When you don’t answer right away Gojo delivers a harsh slap directly on your clit, the moisture causing the increased sting to intensify sending your senses into a state of floating. Yet, bringing you back to reality, another harsh smack lands on your cunt and you jerk against your restraints, nearly dropping the phone on your face for real this time.

You don’t understand what he's saying to you but you not regardless, eyes rolling back into your head—every single pore on your skin submerged in pleasure. Completely unaware, you don’t hear the additional buzz of the final toy until you feel its silicone lips latching onto your clit while the rigid faux tongue juts back and forth across your bud.

Eyes practically leaving your skull for the second time today, everything flashes white, blinding you even with your eyes wide open. A scream so guttural it comes out silent, the ball of tension in you finally bursting as releases flushes through your entire body.

Cumming harder than you ever had before, you just let go completely, gushing around Gojo’s thick cock still pistoning in your now drenched pussy. The splash zone from your cunt is quite a bit more than usual as a giant warm wet spot begins to soil and expand underneath you both.

Ears ringing, Gojo sounds a million miles away as you hear him chattering on about something—the phone?

You wiggle your fingers, realizing you must have dropped it, but you’re still clueless about what has him so excited—until Gojo’s voice finally slices through your haze, yelling out in absolute wonderment—

“HOLY SHIT BABY, DID YOU JUST PISS ON ME??? MMM FUCK ME FOR REAL!?—SHIT! YOU WETTER THAN A WATER PARK BUNNY—SO FUCKIN NASTY! PLEASEEEEEE PLEASEEEE TELL ME YOU GOT THAT ON CAMERA!”

Suddenly, it dawned on you that when you had let go, you had quite literally let it all go. 

You could die—and if you could muster the strength to move you surely would have raced out to the backyard to quickly dig yourself a whole to do just that in. Yet that clearly would not an acceptable conclusion for your degenerate perv of a boyfriend who is acting like a sinner saved—praising pussy like a newly reborn evangelist baptized in the essence of your erotic filth. 

His elation is simple as he figures how much you really had to trust him to be able to let go and lose yourself to him to that extent—now he wants to lose himself to you as well.

Easily drowning all inside your sloshing pussy like he never swam—Gojo doesn't stop, your pissing only encourages him to fuck himself further into a pussy drunk state to rival your own cock-induced stupor.

Yet, somehow he still maintains enough control to effectively lavish praises for how naughty and shameless your lil pussy is. 

The frenzy drives him directly to his nut, eyes dilate further and slobber frothes past his lips while spearing his cock into you with renewed vigor. Whimpering and stuttering his words and hips alike.  Gojo presses your leg draped across him back against you to be sandwiched between the two of you as leans forward to further ravage your swollen kiss bitten lips again. 

Twisting you up like a pretzel and near the point of passing out from overstimulation you his insane joyous laughter sounds miles away as he topples over his peak pumping ropes of his vicious cum—that he’d been saving up for all you over the last two days—into your battered creamy core. 

Gojo’s thrusts begin to slow but he’s in your guts just as far pushing cockhead right against your cervix stealing your lips into another fiery kiss.

Once Gojo finally lets you breathe air again, you’re completely out of it, the dopey blushing smile on your face. The embarrassment from pissing all over him is completely forgotten as hearts all for him linger in your eyes.

Sex with Toru was never dull to say the very least.

“There you go, there’s my good girl, huh Bunny? Not bored anymore baby?”

Gojo smirks down at you knowingly while peppering your face with sweet loving kisses as you’re steadily drifting off, allowing every exhausted nerve to claim you.

It's still a good minute before Gojo slides out of you, seeinghis discarded phone next to you—it's still recording. A mischevous smile plays on his lips.

Wanting to capture the aftermath of his handiwork, Gojo sweeps the phone across your body, thumbing off moisture from your dewy soft skin soiled with warming oil and sweat. Making sure to linger longer on your lightly heaving chest and the sporadic quiver of your thighs.

Zooming in even closer, Gojo’s two long fingers to part your swollen lips open, admiring more of his work—his masterpiece that was the copious amounts of cum and piss dribbling out of your abused lil’ hole down to the crack of your ass. 

Now Gojo really has a dilemma—he wants to keep filming you as his cum, ever so slowly, trickles out of you. He thinks this scene would make the perfect time-lapse of the creamy sap seeping from your cunt like sugar maple. But he’s also fighting the urge to also suck all the creaminess out of you himself—the cum rimming around your puckered lower hole tempting him to Gojo start there and slurp and suck his way up your clit. 

Truly, he never gets enough of how his taste mingles with yours—and he’s quite curious to know how the additional waterworks will add to your delectable flavor. 

You were so fucking filthy and so willing to try new things all thanks to this doppel quarantine causing you to make this big a mess in the first place.

God he needed this.

More. 

He had to have more from you. 

Gojo couldn’t possibly bring this all to an end anytime soon.  Cooing against your inner thigh Gojo makes a promise to your cunt.

“Heh, don't worry pretty girl, I'ma give you six more months of quarantine at least! Can't wait to—” 

“—TORU, ARE YOU FUCKING SHITTING ME RIGHT NOW!?!?”

Whoops.

Yeah he definitely thought you were already fast asleep—teehee.

......RESULT: PASSED 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚜𝚕𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍—𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚒𝚗’𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚎.

that's not my jjk man series (visit series page for full animation)

comment and reblog! next up toji, already finished posting—10/20

Gojo's favorite lil' mochi ball, of course, being your clit. So cute and swollen, he makes sure to pay special attention to her as he takes his time savoring the texture of your sensitive flesh.

In between the suction of his sloppy puckered lips, Gojo's tongue peaks out to lap gently at her before swirling the tip across every nerve on your lewd bud. The tortuously euphoric sensations leaving you seeing stars as you've lost track on how many times you've cum thus far.

The results of Gojo's messy eating gush through your folds, ass and thighs as your slick and his spit reflects a glossy sheen that glows in the dim room when the first rays of early morning light pour in.

That's right—it's already morning.

Shiiit.

You'd lost count of how long he'd been at it when he said he needed a 'midnight snack'. Yet this is completely your own fault Bunny for telling Toru he could 'eat whatever he wanted, as long as he didn't get crumbs in the bed again.'

You didn't think the first thing he'd reach for would be you!

Nevermind that you felt like crumbling yourself—limbs frail like goo, you can't even run now. Utterly at this otaku freak's mercy and he didn't look like he was slowing down anytime soon.

"P-Please...s't-toru—hiccup—stawp, enough..."

But his perverted nonsensical coos for you to stay still make him sound like a weak and wounded animal—like the lil' freak actually thought he'd die if he didn't bury his face deeper into your quivering cunt.

The sound grips at your heartstrings and would almost have you feeling sympathetic for him if it wasn't for the contrast of Gojo's own swiney hands gripping onto your hips with unearthly strength, keeping you in place—making you feel more like the prey.

Truthfully you weren't going anywhere and no matter how pathetically helpless Gojo appeared, he'd always muster the most devout dedication to worshipping your body.

All you can do is brace yourself right now, biting down harder on the sheets. As a testament to that wet spot beneath you is bigger than your own face at this point. Evidence of how badly you've drooled and damn near chewed a hole through the custom 100% egyptian cotton digimon themed linen.

But it's times like these you were thankful your eyes spent more time in the back of your head then starring the cute cuddly Gatomon and Gammamon characters smiling back at you on the sheets—they were too innocent to be subjected to Toru's depravity, they—

—wait! The hell!? For that matter how come you even remember their names!? Urgh.

"O-One more... jusss' one more! P-Plwease, Bunny! My ecchi angel... blwess me with your holy pussy water jussst once more my pervy prwincess, I-I need it!"

Gojo's words have you both recoiling a mix of cringe and overstimulation as you feel him pull back briefly to spit a wad of fluids onto your plump sloppy pussy only to just as quickly slurp the suds back up again.

The wet, gurgling sounds of his lecherous gluttony echo in surround sound throughout the bedroom.

Yet despite all the shame and cringe the most overwhelming feeling is the disbelief that your body hadn't gone completely numb already—somehow you feel another orgasm building, relentless and inevitable.

God, something had to be equally as wrong with you for enjoying Toru's ecchi ways this much, not to mention, remembering the names of actual digimon on the sheets—Gojo's otaku influences would literally be the end of you...

Furthermore, you even don't know how Gojo's still going at this point!

Although you were making a big enough mess all yourself, you knew the sheets below your hips were not only stained with your creamy fluids but his own thick cum. A small puddle had formed on the completely saturated sheets as you couldn't keep track of how many times the lil' freak has cum—moaning obscenities into your pussy as he nuzzles your asshole down to your clit with his entire face.

All the while dick throbbing against the bed completely untouched each time.

He should have been tapped out from dehydration by now.

You had to do something to stop this seemingly never ending cycle—get him to fuck you somehow or something so your pussy could finally drain his completely balls dry and you could get some well earned sleep!

Like clockwork, upon another warm ejaculation spurts out to splash against your knees. The intensity of Gojo's throaty cries soften against your skin and you can feel gojo's insane grip on your cheeks loosening slightly.

Now is your chance before he recovers—you absolutely have to use this moment to turn things to your advantage!

Willing your body to cooperate, your arms are trembling as you push yourself upright. Torso rising while your legs slip further off the bed, towards the floor—seeking just enough leverage to turn around. You’re so focused, gathering the energy just to move a bit, you don’t even notice the sole of your foot brushing—ever so lightly and completely unintentional—right up against Gojo’s cock.

Immediately the raw sound that leaves him is sharp and guttural, a croaked moan straight from the depths of his chest as his eyes shoot open wide. Already hypersensitive and twitchy from release—not to mention delirious with lust from eating your coochie damn near off the bone all night—your foot is the last thing Gojo expects to feel in the moment.

Gojo’s sudden cry startles you, making you freeze mid-motion. The jolt steals your momentum, and before you can recover, your arms buckle beneath you—sending you crashing back down face-first into the sticky, aftermath of your own undoing.

But it's too late now... and before you know it Gojo grabs your ankles, repositioning you back into your arch as he pulls your feet up and together, slotting his thick, throbbing length between them.

Shit the feeling is almost painful.

Gojo forces his cock, still red and throbbing from just previously ejaculating to rub against the soft soles of your feet—fuck they are just too warm and welcoming to resist fucking into!

Any attempts to jerk away are even more futile than before in this position.

In fact, you're actually spurring him on.

You don't realize it, but the way your toes are squirming has them unintentionally fondling gojo's big breeder sack, already engorged as his more turned on than ever—full with his next creamy load ready to blow.

Gojo himself is in utter bliss.

He truly loves every inch of you—even if you are usually too ticklish and embarrassed to let him worship your feet for very long.

But this—your angelic, goddess-like hentai footies wrapped around his dick?

Amazing.

Phenomenal.

Revolutionary even!

In his mind Gojo deems it the best fucking sheath for his hard and leaky cock...well, third best other than your pretty mouth and perfect pussy of course!

Gojo thrust begin slow at first, the head of his cock sliding between your arches, his previous spilled release smearing across your skin like a filthy markings a dog would of his own territory.

God, why hadn't plotted to use your divine lil' feetsies as a onahole before!?

Well, Gojo suppose he has.

He's definitely rubbed his dick feverishly against the dakimakura image of you, which highlighted how cute and pretty your feet were, whenever you're away.

Gojo had made a custom printed pillow—one of many versions—decorated with the image his favorite shot from that absurdly over-the-top yet iconic photoshoot he somehow convinced you to do—ya know, the one where you actually let him dress you in his homemade Digimon TCG lingerie.

Those ultra rare and some one-of-a-kind cards sewn together with obsessive care with paper paste and dental floss adorned your kneeling body in the photo.

Heels tucked right beside your ass, feet bare and exposed as the only parts of your body were covered were clad in a scandalous collage of holographic Megas. One of your arms folded defensively under the shiny balconette-like-card-bra—the other behind you as your back arched just right looking over your shoulder at him with wide, uncertain eyes. The cards formed lingerie so epically scandalous it could both summon a digital monster and a nosebleed—and it surely had that effect for Gojo.

The very peak of 'ecchi cosplay couture', Gojo had nutted many times over the perfect image from the perfect memory of you looking both mortified and turned on—dressed like the final boss of his wet dreams and immortalized on a dakimakura he had made MANY prints of for when he inevitably dirtied one beyond repair.

But now? This?

Gojo doesn't think the dakimakura does the seductively silken feeling of your actual feet on his cock any justice—he's hooked like an addict now.

“F-Fuhhhck, B-Bunny bae, your feet feel s-s'gud, angel.”

Even with his cock melting between your footies, Gojo can't keep his face outta your cunt for long.

Only allowing you what seems like mere moments of reprieve before his tongue dives back right in. Licking, fucking and sucking it into your gummy hole like he’s trying to juice every last drop of pleasure from your peachy pussy. Your ass jiggles from your ankles jerking your legs back with every thrust of his hard cock pumping between your feets.

And despite your utter repulsion at the way your feet being so vulgarly violated—you're moaning, shamelessly writhing even at all the foreign sensations.

You're absolutely mortified—you think you are... at least you would be if the absolute perverted frenzy Gojo worked himself into wasn't affecting you as well. The once ticklish tingles that would have your recoiling are now amplifying the electricity you feel in your core and despite yourself you're sinking back into Gojo's face—much to his excitement.

No matter how hard you try not to be as turned on as you are, Gojo's pure otaku fueled depravity is too contagious.

You lose yourself and your senses melt in the sound of skin slicking and squelching as his long length slides along your skin.

So wet—so obscene—mingling with the slurps of his tongue still gorging on your cunt, working her overtime. You clench around his tongue, obediently giving him more and more of the creamy essence his flicks beckon forth.

In turn, Gojo's hips piston even faster now—his hot girth sliding through the tight tunnel of your feet he uses his palms to press even deeper around. The intense friction making him babble more delusional praises into your cunt.

"Ah-Ah-Ahhhh shiiiiiit my sweet perverted hentai queen's feet is g-gonna make me blow s'f-fucking hard—ya foot pussy gonna be a gud nasty girl for me n'take it all Bunny?!?!"

Gojo growls, his voice distorts into your pussy once more, the erotic hums building uncontrollable pressure in your belly as your final orgasm coils tight like a spring.

Likewise Gojo's length is thrashing wildly between your feet, the tip oozing precum with every thrust, as his balls slap roughly into your curled toes—he’s so close.

"C-Cumm, cum, cum, cum—ah, with m-me pwease pwincess, wuv you—all of you, pussy, feet, ass—HAH!"

More deranged than ever, you don't know how you can even understand his desperate muffled pleas and yet somehow your body does. Because just like that, you’re coming undone, your pussy spasming as pleasure wrecks through your body. Feet arching, constricting even more around his cock, milking him as he lets out the most pathetic whine of the night so far.

Gojo blunted nails dig around your ankles as his thrusts slow. His cum still somehow shooting out in thick, hot ropes, splattering across your soles all the way up to the back of your thighs, splashing down on the bed and floor.

Finally spent, Gojo pulls out, dragging you too him—he's trembling, you both are. Yet while he's deliriously giggling, your legs still twitch as you can still sense the phantom strokes of his tongue digging into your cunny. Your body still buzzing with the aftershocks of what seemed like non stop orgasms all night.

It's almost enough for you to want his cock up there for real now if every other muscle in your body wasn't screaming for rest, fearful he'd catch a second, no, fourth wind of the night.

Gojo mutters against your skin, his voice hoarse.

“You’re so so fucking perfect Bunny, m'so lucky to have a princess as pervy and nasty as you.”

Gojo softly peppers kisses on your neck but you ignore him as you hum in response.

Eyes shut—you're preoccupied. Your brain bargaining with your body on if and how you were going to manage to get up, at least long enough to grab the wet wipes from Gojo's desk and rip the nasty sheets off the bed.

"My Bunny-hime, don't worry about the mess, I'll buzz the maid—"

"NO!!"

Eyes flying open you immediately reject the offer. The last thing you wanted was to see any of the night shift maids who you suspect heard the symphony of lewd noises coming from the room all night—typically being close by in case they were ever needed.

You already have a hard time looking any of the staff of the Gojo residence in the manner. Even if they all seem perfectly "normalized" to the eccentric tastes of the family, what with routine maintenance of the sex dungeon and all. You don't see them bat and eye as they look completely normal, transporting baskets of sanitized sex toys or cleaning and dusting the expansive lewd museum of hentai figures.

"Mmm, n-no, Toru... I mean, its late, ah, I mean super early still! Don't bother them, just... let's just go sleep in a guest room hm? I just wanna cuddle."

You manage a small tight lipped smile in your exhaustion. You knew how much he loved sleeping in his own room, on his custom digimon sheets but you're hoping the promise of cuddling and softly caressing his undercut would be enough in his exhaustion to spare you the embarrassment.

"Kay! Whatever, you wish my ecchi angel!"

You sigh in relief as Gojo slips a t-shirt over you before he scoops you up princess time. His own arms are shaky with exhaustion but you feel comforted in the fact you know he'd sooner die then ever drop you. Also you are thrilled you didn't have to remind him anymore to at least cloth you before he tried to leave his room.

Burrowing your face in his chest you drift off as you feel his arms.

Otaku!gojo who smiles once more as he sees you drift off, placing a kiss to your forehead. His own thoughts drifting as he makes his way to one of the many Gojo estate guestrooms.

As much as he loves fucking your pussy, he wonders if you'd let him fuck other parts of your body now... like your armpit.

Oh! Oh! Maybe if he shibari tied your leg and thigh together he could fuck the crease of your thigh...

Gojo’s face lights up with excitement, eyes gleaming as he looks down, ready to ask what you’d think about that—only to find you fast asleep.

He chuckles softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. Yeah… he’d let you rest for now.

The late-summer woods behind the farm were your favorite place to disappear, which meant Clark had gotten really good at tracking you down when you wandered off. Still, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called your name into the trees like he wasn’t absolutely sure where you were.

“Sweetheart? You out here?” No answer. He smiled to himself. That meant yes.

The man could hear a corn kernel drop two counties away, but he played along anyway, boots crunching over leaves as he walked deeper down the trail. A soft breeze carried the faint, sweet smell of wild roses, and he spotted them growing in a sunny patch just off the path.

Clark paused. He plucked three. Then a fourth.

By the fifth, he was grinning like he’d been caught doing something mischievous. He gathered them carefully in one big hand, shaking his head as he murmured, “She’s gonna tease me for this.” But he didn’t stop picking.

A few steps later, the trees opened into your favorite hidden pond, quiet, glassy, sun-dappled. And as soon as he saw you, he forgot every word he was planning to say. You were floating lazily on your back, completely bare, sun gleaming off your skin, hair drifting in the water like a halo. You didn’t see him yet, humming softly to yourself as you kicked gently through the cool water.

Clark exhaled, soft and hopelessly in love. Then he cleared his throat. Loudly. You yelped, splashing upright and crossing your arms over your chest even though the water was already hiding most of you. “Clark Kent! Don’t you know how to make noise when you walk?”

He bit back a smile. “Pretty sure I did.”

“You didn’t.”

“You were hummin’ awful loud, darlin’. Real distracted.”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “What are you doing out here?”

“Lookin’ for you.” He held up the wild roses in explanation. “And I brought somethin’.”

Your expression softened instantly. “You picked those for me?”

“Course I did.” He dropped to a crouch at the water’s edge. “C’mere.”

You swam closer until he could touch you, his large hand brushing gently along your damp cheek. Then, one by one, he plucked the petals from the roses and let them flutter down into the pond around you. The water rippled as the pink petals floated across the surface, catching in your hair, brushing your shoulders, circling you like you were some kind of lake goddess he’d accidentally stumbled upon.

You laughed, soft, breathy, delighted. “Clark… what on earth are you doing?”

“Decoratin’,” he said simply. “Figured my girl deserved somethin’ pretty.”

You flicked a little splash at him. “You’re ridiculous.”

He flicked one right back. “And you’re beautiful.”

“Clark…”

He leaned in a little, bracing a hand on the grass to keep from tumbling forward into the pond. “What? Can’t tell my wife she looks like a dream floatin’ around in flower petals?”

Your giggles were pure sunlight. “You’re gonna make me all flustered.”

“That’s the plan.” He nudged another handful of petals toward you with his fingers. “Now turn around. Let me get some in your hair.”

You rolled your eyes but obeyed, spinning gently in the water. Clark reached in, careful and reverent, letting the petals drift into your hair. He placed them however they landed best, never forcing, just guiding them with gentle fingertips and an adoring little smile. “There,” he murmured, admiring his work. “My rose.”

You turned back toward him, cheeks warm, eyes soft. “You comin’ in?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”