230322 - Namjoon's Instagram Story

230322 - namjoon's instagram story

Very weird energy for someone that didn’t have to even comment on my post ?? And I didn’t say he needed to be forgiven. If you’re only definition of a redemption arc is complete forgiveness then that’s your problem. I just believe that the todoroki siblings deserved better. Sorry you don’t feel that way lol

Perhaps an unpopular opinion, but I think horikoshi owes it to the todoroki siblings to give touya a redemption arc. or, at the very least, end their storyline with the siblings reaching some kind of middle ground. otherwise i’ll be both devastated and pissed

Lol I forgot shotos scar 😭😭 my back hurts tho so Imma let him being happy and without family issues

Tears in the Club

Words: 5k (read here or on ao3)

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content/Feminine Reader

Relationships: Todoroki Touya/Reader

Summary:

Bakugou Katsuki is a natural genius. He's good at practically anything he tries, right off the bat.

So when Ashido asks him if he can twerk it's very natural for him to be good at it right away. It's just that no one expected how good.

Todoroki feels a type of way about it.

or: Todoroki watches Bakugou twerk and has a spiritual awakening.

The thrumming bass pulses through your veins. It echoes through every inch of your body and, without it, you’re sure that you’d be nothing but a hollow shell.

The synths of the music—the pounding of the 808s—become your heartbeat. It is the very strings that control your marionette visage.

Your steps—though awkward and unsure—propel you forward. 

You’re alone. 

You know you shouldn’t be. Being alone, dressed like you are in such a place, is a recipe for disaster. And normally, you’re not this type of girl anyway. 

You’re the kind that would be sitting at home. By now, you would be curled up in bed. But not asleep. No. You would be wide awake.

Wide awake and waiting for him to get home. 

He promised you that it was just work that kept him away. That he was just simply a busy man. And so of course he would be busy at work late. His work—his hard work and effort—is what kept the lights on. Kept food in the fridge. It was what afforded you such a comfortable lifestyle where you didn’t have to work.

You did. But you didn’t have to work to sustain yourself. To keep food on the table and to keep a roof over your head.

You worked at a flower shop part time, a few days a week. The other days, you spent taking care of your home and keeping yourself in shape.

No, you didn’t have to work to survive. 

But you did work to satisfy him. To appease him. To show him that everything he did was worth it because you were grateful. You didn’t take any of it for granted. 

So you were the good girlfriend. The obedient girlfriend. 

When he told you to change into something else, no matter the reason, you listened. When he told you that he expected dinner to be ready by a certain time, it was. When he told you to stay home—to not go out with your friends—and instead wait for him, you did. And when he told you that he would be home late because of work, you believed him. 

You believed him.

But stupid, stupid you. 

You should have known better. 

He’d left his iPad out. 

Normally he kept it in his at-home office. A room that you obediently avoided after being told to not enter it. 

But it was on the nightstand on his side of the bed. 

Innocuous. Unassuming. 

You had grabbed it just to simply put it back. It was a good deed. A deed you were sure he’d thank you for. But then you noticed there was an unread message from a mutual friend of yours. 

Well…she was more your friend than his. 

Or so you thought.

You unlocked it. You unlocked the iPad. 

It was easy.

Perhaps he never put a password on it because he figured he had you so obediently trained. Perhaps he never put a password on it because he figured that you would never dare to touch something that usually stayed in his office—a place you were never to step foot in.

But you did. You unlocked it and it had no password so it was incredibly easy. And with his icloud connected, you could easily read the text messages between him and Itsuka.

The messages that denigrated you. Disparaged you.

They made fun of you. They bad-mouthed you and belittled you. 

You were nothing but a toy to play with. To use and throw away. To laugh at. 

He was cheating on you with your friend. Your friend who had no qualms about her actions. Who made fun of you. 

They sent photos back and forth. Nude. Explicit. They sent videos of their affair back and forth, too. They talked about it. Bragged about it. Joked about how you were an idiot that was none the wiser.

But of course you weren’t. You were just simply an obedient doll.

You put his iPad back in his office—back where you remembered seeing it on the few occasions you had even dared to look in. 

And then you waited for him to get home. Dinner was on the table, hot and ready. When he came home, he kissed you on the cheek and smiled. He talked about his day at work and when your meal was done, you cleared off the table and cleaned the dishes. That night, as he always did before going to sleep, he told you how much he loved you.

For the following days, you continued to sneak into his office and read through their messages. 

It hurt so much. So fucking much. And yet you couldn’t stop yourself. You had to know what they were saying about you. It was an insatiable obsession. A mistake, really, but it was the only thing that you could think of to do.

And then you realized that it was not only Itsuka that he was sleeping with. 

There were more. So many more. 

Some were your friends. Others were women he’d sworn were just friends. And the rest were women you’d never even met before.

You were sick.

Literally. 

For days you couldn’t eat. And when you did, it came right back up. When you laid beside him at night, you did not know rest. When you weren’t sobbing as he rested so peacefully, you were just silently staring at him as you wondered what you did to deserve this.

You were good to him.

You listened. You obeyed without question. 

But in the end you were nothing but a doormat. 

Takami Keigo took you for a fool. 

Not like you gave him any reason to treat you different…or so you told yourself. 

It has been two months since you found out about him cheating on you, and now you are nothing but an empty carcass. A walking corpse of the woman you once were.

Of course he does not notice. You are no better than the lap that sits atop the nightstand on his side of the bed. You are of no more importance than the utensils that sit in the kitchen drawers. As long as you keep working as you always have, he does not notice the absence of your spirit.

But Rumi notices.

She is the only friend that never showed up in his phone. She is the only friend that continues to check on you. To make sure you’re okay. The only friend that continued to invite you out despite you always passing on the offer. 

And she is the only friend that never quite liked Keigo.

She recognized the subservient role he’d placed upon you and firmly—vehemently—disagreed. 

She tried to warn you. But you didn’t listen. You assured her that she was merely overthinking. That Keigo was a good man. A wonderful boyfriend. That he was simply protective, but that he constantly showed through his actions how much he loved you.

You wish you had her discerning eye.

So it was only natural for her to notice the shift in your being. In the very essence of you.

She invited you out to cheer you up, never once expecting you to agree. But you did. In fact, you had asked if you could stay the night at her place afterwards. 

It had been so long since you had accepted her invitation, let alone stayed at her placed, that she agreed right away.

You went to her apartment. You borrowed a dress and some heels from her. You followed her out the door and to the club.

It’s been so long since you’ve been to a club. Since you’ve been out without Keigo by your side. It’s been so long since you’ve worn something that you picked out yourself—that you’ve worn something so revealing.

The dress you borrowed clings to your body. It reveals every curve and so much skin. It accentuates and flatters. 

You haven’t worn something like this in years. But you feel sexy. 

If only you didn’t feel so out of place. 

Rumi was by your side. She had glued herself to you and wouldn’t let you out of her sight. Not because she did not trust you. Not because she thought of you as incapable, but because she was worried. 

But the more alcohol that entered your system the more you felt stifled.

The more you felt smothered.

So you slipped from her side. 

Some guy had been hitting on her and while her attention had been taken, you escaped.

Now, you worm your way through the crowded club. One awkward step after another. There is a glass in your hand, but you quickly empty it and set it down someplace you have no intention of revisiting. 

The dance floor is just ahead.

As you swim further away from shore, the waves of bodies begin to swallow you. They pull you in further and further, making it harder to fight against the current. Making it harder to turn around. Making it harder to return to safety.

Not like you intend to.

Trapped and with no escape route, you stand still in the mass of dancing humidity. 

Your eyes close and you stand there, just simply soaking everything in. People brush against you. Bump into you. Someone steps on your foot. But you don’t care. You just stand there until your head grows dizzy. 

Dizzy, from intoxication. 

You grow drunk on a combination of alcohol and environment. 

Sin and wickedness lap at your heels and the moment you stop moving, they swallow you whole.

Your body is moving now. 

The music is now your master. It is now the one controlling your strings. And you let it. 

You give yourself to it entirely.

It doesn’t matter who is around you. 

Someone grabs hold of your hips. They tug you into them and grind into you. Their hands wander your body in ways that, if you were in your right mind, you would never accept. But you’re not, so you do. 

The hands disappear from your silhouette, but you don’t stop.

Your body continues to move without any control over yourself. As if possessed. But really, you kind of are. Not like you mind.

It does not scare you. In fact, you welcome it. You welcome the mindlessness. You welcome the way you do not have to put any thought to anything. You simply dance. You simply move. 

More pairs of hands come and go. You dance with an innumerable amount of people, but that is all that you do. You just dance and dance. Moving to the whims of your melodic master and nothing else. You drown in the dulcet beats and find sweet comfort in the stupor it gives you.

“What’re you doing crying in a place like this, looking like that?”

The voice is deep. Husky and raspy. It brings you out of your trance as though popping a bubble.

The haze of brainlessness disappears.

How many songs have passed? What time is it? Who is it that has their hands on your waist?

You turn around and the man behind you is tall. Taller than you, for sure. He’s got deep seated bags under his eyes and a few facial piercings. Tattoos cover the entirety of his neck and his arms, from what you can see. He’s muscular, too. That much is obvious.

He’s hot.

He’s sexy. 

“I’m crying?”Is your response.

And then you reach up to touch your face, shocked to find that you are actually crying. 

“That would be a weird fucking pick up line if you weren’t, don’t you think?”

It would be, that’s not what you’re thinking about at the moment. Now, you’re wondering when you had begun to shed tears. How long have you been crying?

His hands that rest on your waist pull you closer. “So, are you gonna answer my question sweetheart?”

Normally, you’d wrinkle your nose in disgust at being called such a thing by a stranger. But you don’t mind it coming from his mouth. You don’t mind the lustful gaze or obvious flirting, either. 

So instead, you swallow to clear your dry throat and lick your lips.

“Yes, that would be a weird pick up line.”You tell him and then quickly follow it up with, “I’m having problems with my boyfriend.”

He nods his head and you quickly realize that perhaps you misspoke. This guy is clearly hitting on you. He’s clearly flirting with you and…well—despite the heartache you’ve been through these past weeks, you still have love in your heart for Keigo.

But you’re not opposed to the attention you’re getting right now.

“I’m breaking up with him. He’s cheating.”

You say it then immediately regret it. 

The alcohol has loosened your lips and liberated your tongue. The words that you couldn’t even fathom articulating to Rumi, you have blurted out to the sexy stranger in front of you. But if he is at all bothered, he does not appear so. 

Instead he wipes a stray tear from your face and then leans in. His lips are all but brushing against the shell of your ear. A shiver runs down your spine at that. But his words are what cause your legs to go weak.

“Don’t worry darling, I was going to pursue you whether you were in a committed relationship or not.”

And then he pulls away.

Not completely though. Just enough for you two to make eye contact. But when you do, it feels like you’ve been shocked with electricity. And you welcome the moment his lips touch yours.

As his tongue slips into your mouth and your hands tangle in his hair, you vaguely register how troubled you are by his words

Mostly because they remind you of Keigo. 

Did he ever stop—did he ever hesitate before approaching someone? Were you ever on his mind as he slept with one person after another? 

Probably not. 

You gave yourself to him in ways that he could never.

And so you let all inhibitions go as the sexy stranger feels you up. His hands mark his territory in ways that were unfamiliar to you until just now. They grab and grope. Fondle and caress. 

“You wanna continue this somewhere more private?”He asks and though his words are not explicit, you understand fully what he means. 

And you do. You want to continue this. 

So you nod your head but let out a bit of a gasp as he takes hold of your hand and begins leading you out of the cacophony of bodies.

You’re not sure where he’s taking you, but he seems so sure of himself. As if he knows exactly where he’s going. So you let him lead and merely follow. You are now mindful of your absence from Rumi, though, and look around to hopefully spot her. 

She stares with wide, surprised eyes.

She begins walking over to you, but upon seeing that you are not alone, the surprise in her eyes turns to downright shock. 

You give her a thumbs up to let her know that you’re fine and soon, you’re disappearing from her sight once again.

You feel bad. You feel bad for disappearing from her. For, undoubtedly, worrying her. For not explaining anything to her. For using her and her kindness as a means to enable your night of mindlessness. 

So you remind yourself to apologize. 

Later.

Because now, you’re being pulled into an office. The office. The one that clearly belongs to the owner of the club.

The stranger grabs your chin and pulls you in for a kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth once again while his hands settle onto your ass, giving your cheeks a firm squeeze. You two shuffle backwards, uncaring as you knock a few things over. 

But eventually your ass meets the edge of the office desk.

And then he hikes up your short dress before dropping down to his knees and pulls your underwear to the side. He does not even bother to take them off of you, instead he pushes your legs open wide and buries his head between them. He leaves wet kisses, biting and nipping all along your thighs.

“W-Wait.”You say, pushing his head away from you. He stops and looks up, biting his lip and playing with his lip piercing. “What’s your name?”

“Call me Dabi.”Is his reply.

It’s clearly a nickname, but you don’t mind. 

This is nothing but a fling. His real name does not matter. 

“Y/N.”You tell him. 

He nods his head. “Can I eat your cunt now?”

“Yes—”

Dabi licks a stripe up your wet pussy, promptly shutting you up. His tongue licks against your wet folds, clearing away your juices that leaked. Your hips buck so Dabi holds your them down. 

“Fuck.”You groan, drawing out the word as your eyes close and your head falls back.

You can’t remember the last time Keigo did this. The last time he had bothered to eat you out—the last time he even bothered to fuck you—but even still, you don’t remember it ever feeling this good. You want to rub it in his face, spread your pussy all over Dabi’s face, but the hold on your hips keeps you from doing so. 

His tongue circles around your twitching hole teasing it, causing you to moan. He’s teasing you, but, you remind yourself, at least you are getting eaten out while he’s doing so. At least your mind is filling with pleasure as he toys with you. 

He runs the flat of his tongue over the expanse of your pussy before circling the tip around your clit. 

Your entire body jolts. 

“Dabi―”You moan, clamping a hand over your mouth tightly when you realize just how loud you’re being. 

It feels so good though. So fucking good.  

You let out a muffled “fuck” as Dabi sucks on your clit. While his hands still hold your hips down, his thumbs spread apart your lips to give himself more access to you. 

“Fucking delicious,”Dabi mumbles and you want to respond. Want to tell him how good he’s doing―compliment him somehow, but his tongue starts flicking at your clit and there’s nothing you can do but keep your hand clamped around your mouth as moans fall from your lips. 

You can’t help the yelp that comes out when his hands momentarily leave your hips to grab hold of your thighs. He picks you up a tad, and puts your legs on his shoulders. 

One hand goes back to your waist while the other goes straight to your sopping pussy. One finger, quickly followed by a second, fucks into you as Dabi’s mouth feverishly eats your pussy. 

You can’t help the way your entire body shudders. Your legs, that dangle off of his shoulders, tighten but with what little consciousness you have left, you remind yourself to not suffocate him. But it’s hard. So hard to not completely let go like you had done on the dancefloor.

That had been different. Unique. It involved no one else but you and the music. The sensuous, melodic notes that filled the air.

But this. Being with someone else besides Keigo, and giving the responsibility of your pleasure to them, is different. In fact, it’s a bit scary. But then his fingers crook up inside of you—hitting your g-spot—and the tight, apprehensive grip that holds you back begins to slip just a little bit.

Your hands drop from your face and instead, one shoots back—planting firmly on the surface of the desk to give you stability—while the other tangles in his dark locks.

“Fuck―Dabi.”You moan, not being able to contain yourself anymore. You’ve given up on muffling yourself in favor of gripping the desk to keep from falling over. “So good. So fucking good I―” 

Your pussy pulses around Dabi’s fingers and your words catch in your throat. It’s impossible to speak now as you know that moans, far too loud to be appropriate, will be the only ones coming from your mouth. It’s like your body begins to tremble―vibrate, and because of the lack of restraint on your hips, you begin to buck into Dabi’s face uncontrollably. 

“Dabi. Dabi, fuck.”You moan as your nails dig into the desk.“I’m cumming. I’m gonna cum. I―” 

He ignores you completely. Instead, he continues to finger fuck you as he sucks on your clit. 

Warmth washes over your body and tingles take over your lower limbs, slowly spreading to the rest of your body. Your entire body stiffens and your stomach muscles clench, causing your back to arch. Your orgasm crashes into you and it’s like your body freezes, your head is thrown back and your mouth hangs open but no sound comes out. 

Juices gush from your cunt, some squirting out but he is ready for it. Waiting with his mouth open. It’s then that he finally looks into your eyes, holding contact with you and makes it a point to show you how he swallows every last drop he’d managed to get into his mouth. 

You are struggling to catch your breath, but if you weren’t then you’d probably start singing him praises. 

Dabi doesn’t waste a moment, standing up from his knees and pulls down his jeans, taking his underwear down with them. 

His dick is hard, the head impossibly red and precum leaking from the tip. He reaches around you to open up a drawer to the desk, grabbing a condom from it. You’re slightly curious about the relationship between him and this office, but not enough to ask. Especially when he taps his condom covered cock on your clit, smirking as you flinch. 

“Don’t tell me you’re already tired Sweetheart.”He teases you. 

He’s a sight to see, that’s for sure. His hair is mussed and his lips are red, but what’s truly eye-catching is the glistening slick wetness that coats his bottom lip and chin. 

You lick your lips, “Not tired I just―”But you’re cut off as Dabi rubs his dick along your clit, causing you to once again choke on your words. “You’re not playing fair…”

He lifts you up and sets you down on the edge of the desk. And now that you’ve left the dimly lit dance floor, you realize that his eyes are a gorgeous turquoise blue. A beautiful turquoise blue that is saturated with lust and desire.

“Playing fair, hm?”He asks, his lips descending on your neck. “I’m not sure if such a thing exists. 

Dabi enters you, careful to not hurt you but clearly impatient. He’s rough in a surprisingly gentle kind of way. It is paradoxical. It makes your head spin. It makes your cunt throb. It makes you want him even more. 

Dabi’s hands and mouth felt good but his cock—his thick, long cock is heavenly. Magical.

You cry out and your nails now dig into and scratch into his back. His shirt is still on, so he is protected from whatever damage you might have inflicted but very quickly you realize that you want to change that. You want to leave your mark on him. Some kind of reminder of what happened this night. 

So you tug at his shirt, urging it off of him.  Your efforts, at first, are either unnoticed or ignored, but soon he is chuckling and assisting you. 

And you’re in no way prepared for what was hiding underneath his shirt. 

You could tell he was muscular. You could tell he was in shape—fit. But the rippling abs and deep cut v-line make your mouth go dry. 

It would be a lie to say that Keigo isn’t also fit. That he, too, does not sport a similar physique. But when was the last time you had gotten more than a glimpse of it as he got dressed or undressed? You were always a tactile lover—needing to touch and be touched—but you have long since been deprived.

At first, you simply touch him. Your hands simply reach out to feel his muscles. But one, short touch becomes a lingering graze, which inevitably turns into a needy type of pawing—where you are seemingly desperate in your endeavors to feel as much of him as possible. 

His strokes are still slow, but intentional. Purposeful as he drives his cock straight into you. Dabi’s head is tipped back and his eyes are closed, apparently taking in the moment. 

His eyes snap open, though, when you lean forward. Just enough to connect your tongue to his skin. Your hands grab hold of his hips now as you trace his ever connecting tattoos with your tongue. 

“Shit, you’re fucking insatiable.”

“Sorry…”Is your mumbled reply, bashful and a bit embarrassed. You haven’t been with anyone besides Keigo in so long that you’ve lost sense of what behaviors are appropriate or inappropriate during a first time fuck. “I just haven’t been touched in so long.”

He stops fucking you to look straight at you. It is the first time that you’ve looked at each other so clearly. He’s observing you and you’re observing him. You can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking. You can’t help but worry that you’ve ruined the mood.

But then he reaches around, quickly undoing your bra. He pulls the straps off your arms and throws the garment behind himself. Without it, your dress neckline slips and droops, which is apparently what he wants because he slides your straps down your arms.

His hands, large and warm, cup your breasts. His touch is gentle—experimental. When Dabi touches you, he watches your every reaction. He notes your every gasp and shuddering breath. Goosebumps cover your skin as his fingers circle your nipples, his nails scraping along the sensitive buds. 

And then he pinches them. Tugs and pulls.

The moan you let out raises into a sensuous wail as he punctuates his actions with an abrupt, deep thrust into your quivering cunt. 

It feels ridiculous to admit to yourself, but you’re surprised by just how good you feel. And he doesn’t stop. He continues to toy with your sensitive nipples as he fucks you. 

You’re loud now. Uninhibited and uncaring. You’re in a club for fucksake, it’s loud. And if anyone happens to hear through the door, then what can you do? Besides, it’s not like you care much anymore. It’s not like you’re thinking much of anything at this point. 

Your nails dig into his skin, leaving tracks of red in their wake. Your legs tremble, already weak but the way Dabi fucks into you makes them grow weaker. Makes your entire being weak—pliant and loose.

“Don’t worry Sweetheart,”Dabi says as he rams his cock into you “You can feel as good as you want to feel. I’ll make you feel good.” 

Something about that…about what he’s said. Perhaps his tone. Perhaps the words themselves. Or perhaps it’s the look in his eyes. Whatever the case maybe, you lose the last bit of your inhibitions. The last of your restraint melts away. You give into the pleasure and euphoria. Your head becomes light and you become entirely unabashed. 

Your cunt tightens around Dabi’s thick, long cock. And finally, he seems to lose the last bit of his control as well. 

He’d been softly groaning this whole time, but now he moans. His deliciously deep, raspy voice is right in your ear. His head rests on your shoulder and his grip on you has tightened. Over and over he mumbles “fuck”. 

Your mouth falls open but no sound comes out. It’s like the moans are stuck in your throat. Caught and unwilling to come out but your mind is a whirlwind. Dizzy and intoxicated off of carnal desire, you can’t help the way your body goes completely limp.

You fall back against the desk and rather quickly, Dabi is right on top of you. His lips are on yours and his tongue has slipped into your mouth. It quiets you both down, but just barely. 

And then he reaches down between you to give attention to your sensitive clit. 

Your toes curl and your back arches off of the hardwood desk. Your nails dig into him once again, more trails of red scratches. You cry out, completely unbridled. His lips are long forgotten now as you drown in your own pleasure. 

Your pussy is convulsing around his dick now, and your body trembles terribly. Dabi fucks into you like he’s been starved. The dull, muffled pulsing sounds of the music and your moans that fill the room are joined by the sound of your skin slapping together. 

There isn’t any room to be ashamed or shy any more. As Dabi’s cock hits your gspot over and over again, your brain melts further and all you can think about is how good you’re feeling and how much you love Dabi’s cock. And how much you miss being fucked.

How much you miss this.

You’re hearing yourself as though you are listening to someone else. You sound so pathetic—whining desperately and mewling. 

“Go ahead Princess, cum for me.”

With the magic words finally spoken, you completely break down. 

Your orgasm floods into your every limb, sedating you completely docile. And yet Dabi continues to fuck into you and while you are beginning to suffer from overstimulation and oversensitivity, you can’t bring yourself to try and push him off. So instead you just lay there obediently. 

His body grows tense and as you look up at him, your gaze hazy with pleasure and satisfaction, Dabi thrusts into you one last time before he’s emptying himself into the condom.

You thought that he, too, would collapse or at least be too tired to move, but instead he pulls out. He takes off the condom and ties it before tossing it in the trash. It’s almost humiliating, the way he seems so completely done with you.

But then he’s back on you.

His lips are all over your neck. Your chest. Your breasts. 

His tongue circles one of your nipple before taking it into his mouth, nibbling on it.

“F-Fuck.”It’s too much. You had never known yourself to be so sensitive and responsive, but you can’t help the way your body jolts. “Please―” 

Your toes curl and, once again, your hands tangle into Dabi’s hair as he takes your nipple back into his mouth and begins sucking and nibbling on it again. The way Dabi sucks on them―rolling the sensitive bud around with his tongue and kneading your other breast with his other hand—is enough to cause you to moan loudly and lewdly again. 

His lips trail from one breast to the other and he pays them the same attention.

You thought that you were finally starting to get your mind back. You thought your mind was finally becoming clear again, but then you feel his fingers slip back into you and you’re in a haze all over again.

This time, though, it does not take much.

Another, weaker orgasm hits you. It hurts a bit—it’s never hurt before but it does now. Your body is spent. You can’t take anymore. 

And really, even when you and Keigo were good—when your relationship was at its peak—you’d never felt like this before. You’d never experienced this kind of fatigue. It feels good. Experiencing this makes you feel good. Even better, really.

“Too much.”You whisper almost inaudibly, tugging at his hair to get him to stop. 

Dabi pulls away from you and this time, he’s got a satisfied smirk on his face. From the look in his eyes, it’s obvious that he is pleased with himself.

For a short while neither one of you say anything.

The air is dense. Heavy with the smell of sex and lust. And while you lay there on the desk, you think about what you’ve just done and why you don’t feel even an inkling of guilt.

You sit up finally, and put back on the bra he has retrieved. While you do so, he puts on his own shirt and further fixes his appearance. And then he walks back towards you, extending his hand for you to take. 

So you do.

He helps you from the desk but your legs are so weak you would have completely fallen if it had not been for him.

And the amusement glinting in his eyes lets you know that he knows that. But thankfully, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he retrieves your purse for you and, when you’re ready, walks you to the door. 

“Your boyfriend is fucking stupid, by the way,”Dabi whispers as his large, warm hands soothingly rubs up and down your bare arms. And then he leans in, kissing you softly on the lips. He cups your face in his hands while yours hold onto the hem of his shirt, gripping it tightly. And when his tongue enters your mouth, you welcome it.

But the kiss ends before anything new can start up and you can’t help but feel a tad bit disappointed. 

You know that this is goodbye, though. 

Of course it is. 

This was a one time—one night thing. 

But you’ve received more attention in this one night than you have received in the last eight months from your supposed boyfriend.

You don’t look back as you walk out the door. 

Or, at least, you try not to.

It’s hard not to, but you fight every urge and instinct to do so. 

And just as you walk back out onto the main floor, Rumi is snatching you up and pulling you off to the side. 

“We’re leaving.”She tells you. 

Which you don’t argue against. With the night you’ve had, you certainly aren’t in the mood to dance anymore. In fact, you could really use a shower and a nice, warm bed right about now.

Besides, you know that you owe it to her to explain. And, maybe, as you explain it to her, you can make some sense of it for yourself as well.

© 슈메이션