#despite me asking for like... a whole month. To just. LOOK. for it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

diaryofawhoretbh · 2 days ago

Note

I saw that you write for The Bear, anything about Mikey! There's not enough fics for him on here.

my mikey. | mikey berzatto

| thank you so much for this request!! please send more. i'm currently watching season 4 and i'm having mikey bear withdrawals.

| wc : 2.7k

| you end up at your best friend mikey's doorstop after a break up, and you finally find happiness.

it was raining the way it always does when your life falls apart— loud and unrelenting, like the sky couldn't take it either.

i hadn't even texted mikey first.

i just stood outside his building, soaked to the bone, hoodie clinging to my arms, backpack and gym bag straps digging into my shoulders and wrist. my breath came out in shallow little clouds, the kind you get when your whole body's gone into some kind of numb autopilot. i didn't even feel the cold. just the...emptiness.

i stared at his door for what felt like a full minute before knocking.

three quick raps. a beat of silence. then it swung open like he'd already been standing behind it.

his expression shifted the second he saw me.

"shit. come in. come here babe."

that was the first thing he said.

then he pulled me in.

no questions. no hesitation.

just grabbed me, soaked hoodie and all, pulled me into his chest like i was something he'd been trying to hold together for awhile now.

i dropped my bags on the floor like it weighed a thousand pounds and just stood there, shivering under the yellow kitchen light, water dripping down the back of my jeans. my throat ached from holding it in.

"i'm sorry," i whispered, even though i didn't know what i was apologising for.

he frowned. "hey, don't be. don't say sorry, you're here now. you okay? fuck— no, stupid question." he exhaled, quick and tight. "you're freezing. hang on."

"i don't want to get your floor-"

"fuck the floor baby," he said, already tugging me toward the bathroom. "you're gonna get sick."

i expected a towel. maybe his hoodie. something quick. something easy.

but mikey berzatto— messy, chain-smoking, loud-mouthed mikey, turned the taps on, adjusted the water with practiced fingers, and started running me a bath.

a nice, steamy, hot one.

he dropped bath salts in without even asking. lavender something. the kind that makes your bones stop shaking. his eyes stayed on the water like it was a delicate science.

"you still like this stuff?" he asked without looking at me. "that fancy kind from that little place you dragged me to that one time?"

i swallowed the lump in my throat. "yeah."

"figured."

he turned to me then, and his whole face softened in a way that made it even harder to hold it together.

"get in. i'm gonna leave clean clothes by the door. towels on the hook. you take as long as you need."

"mikey-"

he leaned down slightly to meet my eyes, then softly planting a kiss on my forehead. "you're safe here, okay? let me take care of you."

i didn't cry until the door closed and i heard him padding away down the hallway.

the bath felt like thawing out after months of pretending i wasn't freezing.

i lay back, hair wet, lavender steam curling around me, trying to understand what it meant that he didn't just throw a towel at me and let me cry it out in silence. he thought ahead. he remember what i liked. he cared.

and not because he wanted something.

not because he was trying to fix me.

just because he knew i needed it.

he gave me his bed without discussion.

"you're not arguing with me right now," he said when i padded out into the hallway in his old shirt and dry sweats, still towel-drying my hair. even though i brought a bag of random clothes i threw in, he still gave me his clothes. and is it bad that i hoped he did?

"you need it more than me," he added, nodding toward his room. "end of story baby."

"what about the couch mikey?" i asked.

"i've slept in worse places," he shrugged, already setting up a pillow for himself like it was no big deal. "plus, the couch and i have a thing. real love, y'know?"

i smiled despite everything. "you're ridiculous mikey."

"yeah, but i'm ridiculous and you're warm now, so..."

i stood there for a second, unsure what to say. everything about this felt too gentle. too easy.

my ex would've told me i was being dramatic. would've gotten annoyed about the water on the floor. would've made me feel like my hurt was something to hide. to be ashamed of.

but mikey just looked at me like i was a person. a person worth taking care of.

"goodnight mikey bear," i whispered.

he smiled like he meant it. i knew he did. "g'night, sweetheart."

and the thing that gutted me most?

he wasn't even trying to impress me.

this was just.. him. this was my mikey.

i woke up to sunlight creeping through the blinds and the smell of...food. real food.

warm, savoury, familiar.

for a second i forgot where i was. my fingers curled in the flannel sheets, and it hit me: mikey's bed. mikey's smell. mikey's shirt still on my skin.

and then the smell hit stronger— eggs, butter, maybe even toast. my stomach neglected and miserable for days, twisted like it was remembering how to exist.

i sat up slowly, sore in places i didn't know grief could live.

outside the bedroom, i could hear low music playing— an old soul record, probably one of his. something with brass and grit and a heartbeat you could feel in the floorboards.

and then,

"dude, the eggs are fine. relax."

mikey. talking to himself in the kitchen.

i smiled a little despite myself.

i pushed open the bedroom door and walked out, barefoot and sleepy-eyed, into the kind of morning i hadn't had in what felt like years.

mikey stood in front of the stove in flannel pants and faded navy tee, curls wild from sleep, one hand stirring something in a pan while the other tapped to the beat of the music on the counter. his back was to me, but he turned just as i reached the hallway.

"there she is," he said with a grin, dimples and all. "thought you might've dissolved into the mattress, princess."

"i almost did," i said, voice still raspy.

"you sleep okay?"

"yeah," i said. "better than i have in. a while."

he didn't comment on that. just nodded like he was filing it away somewhere. then turned back to the stove.

"take a seat babe," he said. "coffee's already done."

i moved toward the counter like i was stepping into someone's else morning.

there was a mug waiting. my mug, the chipped one i'd always used when i stayed over in college. it was navy blue and ugly as sin and i loved it so much.

steam curled from the top, rich and bitter and--

i took a sip.

two sugars. no milk. just the way i liked it.

he didn't ask. he just remembered.

"how do you still remember how i like my coffee?" i asked.

"because i actually give a shit," he said simply, sliding a plate in front of me. "and you always drink it the same way when you're sad."

that shut me up.

the plate had eggs, sourdough toast with butter, a couple hash browns. nothing fancy— but it was hot and it smelled amazing.

he poured his own mug and leaned against the counter across from me, eyes on mine, watching me take the first bite like he was waiting to see if i’d cry.

i didn't cry.

but i did say, "no one's ever made me breakfast before. well, apart from you."

he tilted his head. "not once?"

i shook mine. "not even on my birthday."

mikey blinked. just once. then nodded like he was trying to keep from saying something he'd regret.

"well," he said, "you're in for a rude awakening, sweetheart. because i make a mean frittata when i'm trying to impress someone."

i laughed. it came out surprised— like my ribs forgot how.

he grinned at me like i was some rare, wild creature finally peeking out from the bushes.

"you're doing better today," he said softly, although it seemed like a question.

"i don't know if i am," i admitted. "but it feels... easier. here. with you." he didn't look away. "good... yea good. that's the point."

we sat there in that soft, slow kind of silence— the kind that only exists between people who know each other too well to fill every gap with noise.

he sipped his coffee. i ate.

and for a while, it didn't feel like i was healing. it just felt like i was existing again.

which, honestly, felt like more than enough.

later that day, we were sitting on the floor in the living room, surrounded by a pile of my clothes from the bag i’d brought—him folding, me mostly pretending to fold.

“why do you still have this shirt?” he asked, holding up a faded band tee.

i shrugged. “comfort, i guess. we used to go to shows together. it reminds me of you."

he frowned. “it’s got a hole in the armpit the size of a raccoon.”

“i like raccoon fashion, apparently.”

“mm,” he said, folding it anyway and putting it back in the stack. “well, we’ll work on that.”

i laughed again, head tipping back against the couch.

when i looked at him, he was already watching me. not in a creepy way. not in a “what’s she gonna do next” way. just… watching. like he was memorizing something important.

“what?” i asked.

he shook his head. “you just… look more like yourself today.”

and suddenly, that sentence made me want to cry.

because he had noticed. noticed that something was wrong before i said a word. noticed when i stopped smiling. noticed when i started laughing again.

my ex had barely noticed when i disappeared into myself for weeks at a time.

but mikey saw everything.

that night, i stood in the doorway of the living room after brushing my teeth. mikey was curled on the couch, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows, remote in one hands, flipping through channels he wasn't really watching.

"you want the bed tonight?" i asked quietly. "i can take the couch."

he didn't even look up. "nope."

"mikey-"

"baby, you're taking the damn bed," he said, matter-of-fact, like it wasn't up for discussion. "i snore, my back's a mess, and that mattress loves you more than it ever loved me."

i smiled, soft and tired. "fine. you win."

he shot me a quick grin, satisfied. "damn right i do."

i turned to go, but my steps were slow. the hallway stretched ahead like something i didn't want to walk into alone.

i paused.

half-turned.

he looked up again, brows lifting just slightly, waiting.

"hey, mikey?"

"yeah babe?"

i swallowed, nervous for no reason i could explain. "do you... wanna join me?"

the silence that followed wasn’t awkward. it wasn’t tense. it was full of everything unsaid. of years of history. of sleepless nights and best-friend phone calls and his stupid texts that used to make me laugh so hard i cried.

he blinked, like he was making sure he heard me right.

“you sure?”

i nodded. “yeah. i mean—you don’t have to. just. i don’t know. i think i’d sleep better.”

he sat up a little straighter, setting the remote aside.

“alright,” he said, voice soft and solid. “lemme grab a hoodie that doesn’t smell like fries.”

i laughed, quietly, the tension slipping out of my shoulders.

a few minutes later, we were both in his bed—me on the left, him on the right, a respectful distance between us, but something warmer than the blankets pulling tight across the space.

the lights were off. the only sound was the low hum of the streetlight outside and the occasional shift of sheets as we both tried to get comfortable.

“you good?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“yeah,” i whispered back. “better now.”

and i meant it.

i lay on my side, eyes on the ceiling, the weight of his presence next to me like an anchor in the best way. he didn’t touch me. didn’t try to pull me close. but he didn’t need to.

he was there.

and that alone was everything.

the room was dark, still. the air felt thick with everything unsaid.

i lay on my back, eyes open, tracing shadows on the ceiling. mikey was next to me, just a few inches away, breathing softly but not sleeping. i could feel that tension in the air—the kind that only builds between two people who’ve been quiet too long.

“you awake?” he asked, voice low and scratchy.

“yeah, mikey.”

he shifted, turning toward me. i followed, facing him in the dark.

“can’t sleep either,” he said. “my brain’s being loud.”

i let out a soft exhale. “same.”

he paused for a second, then said it.

“i keep thinking about you.”

i froze.

“always have. you know that?”

i searched his face, my heart thudding.

“what do you mean?”

his eyes didn’t leave mine. “i mean… i've been in love with you. for a long time.”

the air left my lungs.

“i didn’t say anything,” he went on, voice quiet and raw. “because you were always with someone, or almost with someone. or just getting over someone. and i didn’t wanna be the asshole who made it about me. but God, it was always you.”

“mikey…” i breathed.

“you’d walk into a room and everything would change. i’d be pissed at the world, and then you’d say some dumb shit and i’d forget why i was angry. you were always the calm. the constant. and when he hurt you—when you cried over people who didn’t know how to hold you right—i used to lay in bed and wonder how they didn’t see it. how they could be so close to you and still miss it.”

i blinked quickly, tears already gathering.

“and when you showed up the other night, in the rain…” he laughed, breath catching. “i thought, please. please let her stay. because i didn’t know how much longer i could keep pretending you weren’t the love of my fucking life.”

i couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“mikey,” i whispered. “God.”

i reached for his face. my fingers cupped his jaw, my thumb brushing just below his cheekbone. “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to say this.”

he looked at me like he didn’t dare hope.

“i’ve been in love with you, too,” i said. “for years.”

his eyes widened, lips parting, but i kept going.

“i used to date other people just to avoid how much i felt for you,” i said, voice shaking. “because i thought if i loved you too loudly, i’d ruin us and i’d lose you.”

i swallowed hard. my voice broke.

“you were always my best friend, mikey. you were the one i called when things went to shit. the one i trusted with the ugliest parts of me. i didn’t want to mess that up by wanting more.”

he was staring at me, wide-eyed, jaw tight like he was trying not to fall apart.

“i thought,” I said, “if i dated other people, if i just kept you in this safe little box, i wouldn’t ruin what we had.”

he reached for my hand like he couldn’t not touch me anymore.

“you didn’t ruin it,” he said. “you made it.”

we lay there, fingers laced. breathing like we were learning how to do it for the first time.

and then, quietly, he said, “can i kiss you now?”

i nodded, barely able to speak.

he leaned in, and when our lips met, it wasn’t fire—it was warmth. it was years of almosts melting into one soft, certain yes.

the kiss was slow. sweet. familiar.

when we pulled apart, his forehead rested against mine, both of us smiling like idiots in the dark.

“we wasted so much time,” i whispered.

he shook his head. “no. we just... made our way here. in our own time.”

i tucked myself into his chest, his arms wrapping around me without hesitation. i could feel his heartbeat under my cheek.

“i’m still scared,” i admitted.

“me too,” he murmured. “but i'm not letting you go.”

“good.”

we fell asleep that way,

finally touching.

finally whole.

finally me and mikey.

61 notes · View notes

tateypots · 14 hours ago

Text

Lead Me Not Into Temptation 3

Part 2

He calls Tommy and tells him he’s taking the day off. He drops Sarah at school ignoring all her hints about how much time he’d save by just getting her a car of her own. She’ll be off to college in a few months and he has money set aside to get her a car as a graduation surprise. But for now he’s content to drive her and make the most of the time he has left with her before she flies the nest.

He makes sure you see him hustling her into the truck as you fetch your mail, offering a wave and a smile that you hesitantly return. See, he’s a good man, a good father, he’s no threat to you.

He gets home and showers, needs to make sure he’s clean and presentable for you. Make a good impression while he has your full attention. He rubs one out to the thought of you while he’s in there, roughly stroking himself until he’s shooting cum all over himself. It’s a lot and it gets everywhere. He didn’t even come that hard for your daughter’s actual pussy.

And now he’s here, knocking on your door, tool box in hand. He offers a friendly smile when you open it and you already look flustered just at his presence, your husband hovering behind you in the hallway, briefcase in hand.

“Mornin’! Listen, my job for today got cancelled and I heard your girl telling my Sarah that you got a few jobs that need seeing to, thought I’d do the neighbourly thing and swing by, see if I can lend a hand.”

You shake your head as you open your mouth to tell him that you couldn’t impose and your husband can sort it but the pathetic bastard behind you is already talking, “that’s mighty kind of you Joel, would be a big help, this one’s been nagging me about them for weeks,” he chuckles, overjoyed that he’s off the hook.

You frown slightly at your husband but quickly smooth your face into a tight lipped smile before stepping back and granting Joel access to the house.

Joel watches as the stupid idiot gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before jumping in his car and heading off to his excruciatingly dull sounding job. Joel stifles a smirk. Fuckin’ fool of a man leaving his woman here alone with him.

You show him the jobs that need doing. When you tell him you’ll leave him to it he forestalls you, “might need an extra pair of hands darlin’, can you hold these screws for me?” And it’s a reasonable request and he’s doing you a favour so you can’t really refuse. And now you’re a captive audience.

You’re nervous. Jittery. Whether it’s because you don’t trust yourself or you don’t trust him he can’t tell. Its not unreasonable for you to be concerned. A strange man in your house, just the two of you. And he's big and strong and there's no way you could fight him off.

He considers it for a moment. Taking you now, forcibly. He wonders if you'd struggle. If you'd thrash and whimper beneath him as he violated you. Or if you'd be completely passive. Take it like the good girl you've been trained your whole life to be. Either way he knows the fear would have you clamping down so hard on his cock and the damn thing is twitching in his pants despite how hard he came not half an hour ago.

But he buries the impulse. There's no real thrill in instant gratification. The chase is half the fun. Seeing how far he can persuade you to lower yourself. He wants everything, every part of you. Wants you drowning in sin and his cum. Wants to fill every hole with him. Even your little belly button. He'll fill it up and lick it out of you like a body shot. Plenty of other places he'd like to lick too...

Wrestling his mind back to the present he starts to engage you in conversation. It's strained and stilted at first. But you slowly start to relax in his presence. And he asks about your daughter, not because he's interested but because he hopes it'll lead to you asking about Sarah. Which of course it does. You're a good Southern lady with good Southern manners.

And now he gets to tell you his little sob story. How he and Sarah were cruelly abandoned by her mother, how hard it was at the start, how its always just been the two of them and how she's the light of his life. That last part is the truth and it adds so much weight to the story he's spinning about how lonely it gets sometimes.

And he can see how it affects you. How your whole demeanor softens. He can almost see the cogs turning in your brain as you reassess him. And just like that, he has a foot in the door.

///

@mani-pedro @puduvallee @elegantduckturtle @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @a-loneywolf @aurorawritestoescape @mabelmiller @casa-boiardi @milla-frenchy @pedge-page @ficsinthirst @nala2811 @hiddenbabynyc @drunk-and-capable @eddiestans-blog @darknight3904 @guelyury @umadirectioner @getitoutofmymindwrites @smvtwitchmiller

#dark!joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #no age gap #corruption kink #tw non-con #in his head only #but still #he's a bad man

29 notes · View notes

dreamsofbroflovski · 2 days ago

Text

be careful what you wish for.

Kyley-B x Reader - trinitrotoluene - chapter 2

Also available on ao3! 𓆩♡𓆪 Link to Chapter 1

Summary: An innocent librarian's whole views on the world - as well as her guts - are rearranged when she takes into the equation South Park's resident New Jersey asshole. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content (everyone involved is above the age of consent), Fem!Reader, Smut, Penis In Vagina Sex, Cunnilingus, Creampie, Arguing, Fighting, Mentions of Alcohol

A/N: the sequel expected by both everyone and no one.

this took me a while to get to due to me really wanting to capture the vibes of the first chapter. i needed it to end with a bang. but it's here now - big as hell and intense. like Kyley-B, i guess?

i'm not afraid of him anymore. we're one now. we're Venom.

(also uni was kicking my ass but the semester's over now so i can work on more things over winter break!)

“Kyley, I don’t know about this… I think I should go back and change.”

My muttered complaint was almost inaudible over the thundering beats of the music inside the nightclub we were standing in line for, the conversations of the fellow partygoers surrounding us and the rustle of the fabric of my own tight-fitting clothing as I once again tried to pull the hem of it further down, to as much success as I had with the previous attempts - which is to say, very little.

Truly, I didn’t know why I still had that garment. It was a memento from my freshman year of university, back when I thought the following semesters would be filled with partying and drinking that required an outfit up to the challenge, leading me to spending more than I should on a strapless tube dress that left very little to the imagination when it came to my curves and kept on trying to show off even more with the way it rode up my thighs with every movement. Alas, the piece itself did not come accompanied by the courage to wear it; and so for the years after purchase it hung, brand-new, depressedly in the back of my closet, waiting until it could be claimed either by moths or by a cardboard box full of other clothes that I might want to donate.

Or until the man standing in line in front of me found out about it during a weekend at my house and decided it needed to be seen under any conditions, thus inviting me to a new nightclub that had just opened up in Main Street, an environment perfect for a fit of that nature. Minus the fact that I’d obviously… blossomed since my higher education years, and the lack of fabric that was already questionable at the time was nowadays borderline dangerous, which I’d pointed out before we’d even left the house.

Not a sentiment my companion shared, though. “You look fantastic, doll. Don’t sweat it.” Kyley-B responded distractedly while craning his neck to see the beginning of the line better, through the mass of people waiting to enter.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re not even looking at me!”

“Because you’ve asked me this question four times in the last five minutes so far!” He reached out behind him for my hand to pull me forward as soon as the bouncer began to open the double doors to let in another group of people, before anyone in front of us had dared see that happen, and despite the rough reply, I held his hand and walked the few steps with him. “And I’ve told you every time that you’re gorgeous. What, ya think I’m a liar?”

His tone gave out that it was not a question he wanted answered. So I didn’t.

In reality, no matter how much I fussed about the hangout and how different the whole situation was for me, deep down I was grateful for the invitation and his insistence. For the past few months since the Jersey playboy came barreling down into my life in the loudest, most charged way, this had been the usual for us. Our very first interaction had turned my world inside out - with his cock nearly doing the same to my body - and since then he’d attached himself to me like a tattoo, if tattoos dragged you around to every single thing they wanted to do with little room for questioning. The activities he figured would be most enjoyable in my company tended to be things fully out of my comfort zone, lacking prior warning; a set of circumstances utterly terrifying in any other context, but with him, I came to find them almost… delightful. They opened my eyes to experiences I’d never have had without his hand, which guided me with a gentleness rarely shown anywhere else: he reassured me at every turn while simultaneously keeping me on the figurative edge of my seat, to a point where I was outright expectant of our next meetings, just to find out what else I could learn from him.

And the opposite had been true as well; while he brought excitement and new memories to my life, he was also not averse to stopping and smelling the roses, and this is where I really stood out. When it was my turn to choose something to do and we’d settle for something more peaceful and inside of my little bubble, his very stance would change, turning rather relaxed and centering his focus. Opinions that would normally be handed out abrasively became carefully thought-out and understandable, the intelligence I knew he had inside finally able to shine through. He’d curse less, speak in a lower volume, his mannerisms were more mindful - and what was best, it came naturally, like he just had that inside all along waiting for an opportunity. Although I tried to stay humble about it, I tended to internally brag at the concept that I’d be the one with access to that side of him.

There was only one thing missing in my very own real life retelling of ‘Lady and the Tramp’: our collars. A label.

Months by now we’d spent together, during which we’d done all sorts of activities: I’d been to his house and he’d been to mine, we had visited multiple different places and been seen in public together countless times both at night and during the day, he’d had me naked and bent in various different positions with surprising success, I’d dragged him out of trouble a lot so far, even paid his bail and drove him home once after a bar fight got particularly heated. Our closeness was impossible to deny.

But, like everything else about Kyley-B, it seemed volatile; even after all that, with the praise and the quality time and the intimacy, I was still clueless about what we were, what my place in his life was if I had any. The warmth I felt in my chest whenever he was close, embers of his own fiery personality that he’d shared for me to keep safe, told me constantly I was special - but how many of these did he have to give? Was he such a blazing flame that just one person would never be able to soothe?

Part of me figured it was more efficient to just take what I could get without pondering the specifics too much, and bask in the satisfaction of knowing at least I was a constant in his life, someone he was always searching for and keeping close. It was more than what could be said of the women that usually surround guys like him. But another part, that which saw those one-on-one moments as heartfelt developments of our connection, screamed in desperation to understand what was really going on; and it wouldn’t accept casualness as an answer, wanting to just grab at that goddamned fake gold chain he always wore and yank until he’d claim me as his one and only.

Fear held me back, though. Not of him: Of breaking the stalemate only to find my chances weren’t as high as I thought. If I placed such a heavy question - to which the agreeable answer would come with a fresh set of responsibilities - on the table and received a negative response, it would be devastating. It’d mean no part of what we lived together was as meaningful to Kyley as it had been to me, or as enjoyable, repurposing all those moments as just hangouts without any further sentiment behind them. It would wreck my entire perception of the past months into a fine dust of ‘what might have been’. I’d have to start over from scratch, losing a companion who I’d cared so much for and who had shown me so much I hadn’t seen of the world around me, while at the same time knowing that for him I wasn’t more than another woman who gave him the time of day.

It was with all this in mind that I never asked. I just held his hand and let him carry me, both the few steps as the line diminished and the rest of our time together, hoping that our fields of view were synchronized even through the veil of my meekness and the shades of his reputation.

Faster than expected considering the amount of people in front of us, Kyley and I were at the beginning of the line, and soon enough the flooring under my heels changed from concrete pavers to glossy vinyl while colorful beams of light shone different hues onto my dress, shifting its black color into darker purples or reds or greens. The music, which the nightclub’s walls had done a decent job of protecting my ears from, was now positively booming, some remix of famous recession pop songs and old school hip-hop beats - I’d caught many hints of different conversations in line about how the specific DJ who was playing that night was fantastic and really knew how to get a party going, and maybe it was just a lack of knowledge on the subject, but I didn’t perceive the work as all that extraordinary. The space inside was crammed and the body heat of many different people enveloped me rather uncomfortably, making my short dress feel like appropriate attire if exclusively considering the temperature.

Keeping a tight hold on my hand and not speaking - he wouldn’t be heard anyway - Kyley-B brought me away from the doors and further towards the center, creating a corridor for me to walk through safely at the expense of numerous partygoers that complained when hit by his shoulders or arms when he passed by them. I kept muttering some apologies, but they went unnoticed as we continued weaving through the crowd, stopping only when we reached a spot close to the wall, near the bar.

“Party’s pumpin’ tonight,” Kyley said with excitement, leaning towards me to put his mouth as close to my ear as possible - even then, it took some effort from me to make out the actual words. “The guys really weren’t kiddin’. This place’s amazing!”

It would probably take me several more minutes for the word amazing to become one of the possible descriptors for this event in my mind, but I didn’t want to wreck his joy. “I guess it is,” I responded, giving him a smile and hoping it didn’t look as nervous as it felt in my face.

But Kyley knew me, better than any other man could. Not that it was any hard to see in my demeanor how out of my element I was: The way my arms were kept close to my body, making myself smaller to fit in the nonexistent space, the flickers of my eyes here and there as I took in the excessive visual stimuli. “You know what you need? A drink!” He didn’t miss a beat with the offer, which came as high-energy as his previous sentence. “I’ll get one for ya. Don’t go nowhere.”

Just like that, he was turning away from me and trying to make his way closer to the actual bar, one arm lifted to present the wristband placed on him at the entrance for easier ordering. With me being left standing close by, he remained able to see me very clearly, and I noticed him taking full advantage of that by constantly looking over his shoulder to check if I was in place. As for me, well, that red hair would grab my sight anywhere, even with the thick gel on it reflecting the multi-colored lighting.

The music, loud as it was, did a decent job of keeping my insecure thoughts at bay… by substituting it with repetitive beats, but still. I kept my eyes on Kyley from the second he stepped away, begging with them for him to come back quick, but also expressing my gratitude that he was the one going through all this trouble - since I didn’t think I would’ve survived pushing through the wall of people asking for drinks at the bar, which he did with the ease that comes with being someone you don’t wanna mess with. And when he stepped away not long after, one colorful cup with the nightclub’s logo in each hand, I breathed an infinitesimal sigh of relief. I might’ve been tense and uncomfortable without his presence, but I knew he had my best interests in mind - he wouldn’t put me through something he wasn’t sure I could handle, and who knows? Maybe some alcohol in my system was exactly what I needed to let myself loose and enjoy another wonderful night out with him.

Or at least it would’ve been, until she arrived.

I didn’t detect her coming in his direction until she was basically glued arm to arm with him. The first thing that came through my mind was that she reminded me of a walking disco ball; her sequin crop top reflected lights in every which direction, hundreds of her own little shining spots that I had to force myself to look away from considering they spread over just enough area to cover her breasts, and even that coverage was questionable. Between that and the low-rise denim shorts she wore, as much of her skin as legally possible was showing, a slight glisten of sweat on her belly and chest that spoke of how she’d already been heavily partying for a while. Her fit made me look modest, but she displayed none of the discomfort I did, excitedly gesturing at the Jersey playboy to catch his attention - successfully - while making small jumps that made her boobs bounce and the bracelets in her arms shake.

The nightclub went silent. Those light beams still moved, people still danced and their mouths moved while they continued their conversations, like the volume had been dialed down to zero. All my focus was on the pair some feet away from me, on how Kyley-B stayed put while the new girl came closer, turning in her direction and saying something with a smile on his face; his words were unknown to me, but his laugh was something I’d die before forgetting, and it reached my ears better than the music would. The woman stretched her arms wide as if to give him a hug, but he took a step aside last second - God forbid he spill his drinks, my mind concluded with disdain as something unknown dragged down my back. Thousands of knives straight to my spine, tearing through the bone as easily as they would some tapestry, with the blood they’d spill instead making its way up my throat in the shape of a stinging toxin that made me want to vomit my guts out. Yet I didn’t collapse to my knees in utter agony or let out the horrendous shriek this sensation urged me to. That would’ve been less painful.

My legs moved before I’d made the decision to, which I wouldn’t if it was up to me. But everything above my hips was locked onto itself, the remaining energy in my muscles channeling towards making that stride happen, while my brain did the work of figuring out the easiest path to my targets in that crowd. What called me to action wasn’t sense, but some sort of deeply ingrained hunch that whatever was causing me so much grief was related to those two being alone together, and that a maintenance of that condition for any extra seconds would have death as a result. Whether mine or theirs.

It didn’t take long for me to reach both of them, with the noise in the space gradually increasing the closer I got to the destination. By the time I was near their side, it was booming inside of my head again, bass-heavy as the fury it warred with. I didn’t know if my heartbeat had decided to sync up with the music… or if it was the other way around.

Proximity to the woman did nothing to diminish my unsettlement. She was a few inches taller than me, the height of my heels included, and a quick look down told me that her own gladiator sandals had the back of her feet lifted in an angle that I’d only describe as uncomfortable. Her squeaky voice managed to disrupt even more the air around us, and I figured she might be well-beloved by the street dogs in town whenever she spoke - that if the noise of her multiple accessories didn’t scare them off, clashing and clinking with her every movement, which she did a lot of to make sure eyes would be drawn to her at all times. Everything about her screeched in need to be seen, and against my own opinion on her merit to be so, she was.

Before I could announce my own presence, though, Kyley did it for me. “And then I went and- Wait, what?” He interrupted himself mid-sentence, turning to me with a confused look on his face that gradually shifted into pleasant surprise. “Whatcha doin’ here, sweet cheeks? Didn’t I tell ya to wait back there?”

Crash. Awareness suddenly returned to me all at once; where I was, what I had been doing, and the thoughts that I’d had in the span of seconds that led me there. A cocktail of shame, dread and anger stronger than anything Kyley could’ve bought me mixed itself in my stomach as I was now required to both face my own unconscious actions and control my conscious ones. The man’s arched eyebrows and the small smile that spread on his face upon seeing me should’ve filled me with joy, but instead I wanted to punch it right out. For leaving me alone, for talking to this woman, for betraying what we had - but had he? Did we have anything for him to betray? And if we had, would that have been betrayal at all? Picking a fight over something that wasn’t even palpable would dig my own grave of humiliation further, while I already wasn’t at my most comfortable in an unknown environment.

Lying outright would not be an option, as Kyley certainly would call me out, but I also couldn’t turn to him and say ‘Hey, I hate this woman, stop talking to her and any others forever’. So what came out was the softer sliver of the truth, without the blood-curdling details. “I… I didn’t want to be alone anymore,” I muttered with a small shrug, “So I came to see you.”

That’s when a scolding should come into play. The Jersey man detested when his orders were questioned, and so far I’d been obedient enough to not be on the receiving end of one of his thorough lectures, but there’s a first time for everything. However, it did not come to pass; he just tossed his head back in a fit of good-natured laughter. “Impatient little thing, you are,” Kyley teased, giving me one of the cups before throwing the now free arm over my shoulders and pulling me towards his side. “Well, stay here now. You didn’t miss much, we were just talkin’.”

Not that I knew what I would’ve done with myself if he had said anything contrary, but nevertheless it felt good to be so clearly told to stay. Especially when the order was followed by a very obvious display of discomfort on the other woman’s part, her deep pink lipstick nigh disappearing as her lips pressed into a thin line, which made the smallest movements - she was biting on them, munching on her complaints. “And who is this little thing you have with you today, Kyley, dear?” She eventually questioned, her tone high-pitched and filled with fake cuteness, ignoring me completely as if I were a child. Seen, because she had no choice, but not heard. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

“Oh, this here’s my (Y/N),” Kyley responded promptly, his hand rubbing up and down my arm. The woman’s long fake lashes batted repeatedly, her teeth dragging onto her bottom lip again, but with the blood that blossomed right in front of my cornea and clouded my focus, I failed to register why. “We both had never been here before, so I said well, here’s a great opportunity to show her off a bit, you know.”

Bless the colorful lights in the space, for they hid the undoubtedly reddish hue that spread across my cheeks at the words ‘show her off’. I brought my cup close to my face in an automatic motion, seeking to distract myself God knows how, and inhaled deeply. The sharp scent of lemon and vodka invaded my nostrils, twisting around inside my head and scratching my brain, cleansing it of the gunk the thoughts of that woman had covered it with. Not the same effect it would have when it finally got to my stomach, but I forced myself to have a generous sip, needing the liquid courage and also some way of seeming less troubled by the situation than I was. So I let it burn the inside of my throat, deliberately concentrating on the alcohol - an objectively bad idea, like that whole interaction.

“I see.” The woman gave one short nod that also served as an excuse to eye me up and down, her gaze lingering both on my face - half-hidden by the cup - and on my dress, which suddenly seemed too simple for the event. “You knoooow, for this sort of thing, you really have to consider the company you bring, Kyley,” she added in a drawl, her bracelets jingling again when she gestured with her hand, manipulating in the air around us the best way to speak her mind. “It’s real grown-up stuff, darling. This place’s not for just anyone.”

My fingers tightened around the plastic cup. Real grown-up stuff. I wanted to ask just what the fuck she meant by that, but it would only make me look silly, because we both knew. She didn’t see me as good enough company, for a club like this or for Kyley. And on any other occasion, maybe as soon as earlier that same night, I might’ve been inclined to agree out of self-deprecation, question my own aptitude to be the partner he needed - this would’ve presented the woman in front of me as a more worthy option, though, and that wouldn’t do either. But the man at my side laughed again, impeding me from arguing for myself. “Well, good thing I brought (Y/N) then, because I know she’s up for it,” he asserted, shaking his head. “Don’t take her for no dummy, Kandee. She looks all cute like that, but she can handle the heat.”

Kandee. A sweet name for a sour person. The sound of my snort echoed inside my cup, but if either of them noticed, it wasn’t commented on. Rather, only her disbelief at the Jersey man’s claims was noticeable, searching for an outlet in the form of several taps of her long, shoddily manicured fake nails on her own bare thigh - which didn’t follow the rhythm of the background song, or of anything at all.

“Oh noooo, far from me to wanna do that, Kyley! She seems like such a dear!” She shook her head as well, more emphatically, huge dangling earrings hitting her cheeks with each turn. Such a dear. A delightful compliment, if not for it being completely fake and also unwarranted considering I hadn’t spoken a word to her yet. “What I’m saying is, maybe sometimes you want to vary your company a bit! If you do…”

And then her hand reached out.

The touch was small, tentative, like a shoplifter discreetly looking around before stuffing a small object inside their jacket. Not noticing, or not caring about, the fact that the security guard had been on to them from the start. It landed on his left shoulder, and though it didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme, there was still some relief to be felt at the fact that the man had ditched the usual tank top for the night in favor of a proper form-fitting t-shirt. One extra layer of protection, however thin, between his skin and hers.

Much to my satisfaction, it didn’t linger for too much. One sudden movement of Kyley’s torso as he turned away to look at something else broke contact, leaving her arm lifted in the air awkwardly. Another chuckle shook the drink I was holding onto, and this time Kandee did send a glare my way, making me mask my reaction of amusement with another sip.

“Well, Kandee, some people…” I cleared my throat, alleviating both the burning sensation of the drink and my own nerves at deciding to finally be a part of the conversation. “Some people like to just have the same company all the time, if the company’s… decent enough.”

“That’s right!” Kyley brought his attention to us again and lifted his own cup towards me, mimicking a toast. Kandee’s eyes followed the movement, sharp as a tack. “Smart words, sweets. But don’t drink too fast. Ain’t no one in a hurry.”

Kandee’s hand, the one she had lifted to touch Kyley, briefly balled into a fist in mid-air, now grasping at the points she hoped to make to turn the conversation in her favor. “Yeeeah, (Y/N) dear, be careful,” she cooed wretchedly, having apparently found the line of thought she wished to sew with. Her hand uncurled, and her index moved in my direction now - resting with intent on the rim of my cup and pressing down, as if she wanted to move the whole thing. “The drinks here are strong, you don’t want to… go over the line or anything.”

I quickly pulled my cup back towards my chest, the liquid inside sloshing around in the process. “I think I can handle it.”

“It’s just friendly advice, love…” We’re not friends. “Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

So do I, I thought as the cup found my mouth again, my gaze defiant while I took another sip. “I can imagine.”

Apparently I needed to work either on my sarcasm intonation or my debate skills, because a grin spread across her face and her lashes batted once more. “Oh, I do, honey,” she continued with a small nod, “But it’s better that you don’t think about it too much either way…”

Another attempt at theft.

And this time, she didn’t even hide it.

Because her arm stretched out again, and this time, her palm was flat and splayed on the left side of his chest. Over his heart, which the beating of now thumped in my ears in the shape of a memory, having heard it so many times with my head laid there.

Into a thousand pieces, it shattered. My respect for the environment around me, my interest in remaining polite and demure, and the fucks I had to give for what Kyley would think of me. I was weirdly aware of the position of my elbow and the movement of my shoulder as my arm swayed - backwards, then forth, one simple flick of my wrist finalizing the act of throwing the drink in my cup in Kandee’s direction. The pull of a marionette’s strings, except I knew who held them. Control was there - and it was being used for what I wanted to do all along.

My eyes brought down to a slow-mo the speed of the liquid splashing onto her body, allowing me to see the impact in its full glory. Her hand backed away from Kyley’s body in an attempt to brace herself that came several seconds too late, and the wet spot on her skin reflected the lights like a disgusting and sticky extension of the sequins of her top. Fitting.

The slow-mo broke with an ear-piercing screech, one that brought all of the clubbers right out of their alcohol plus loud music induced zones and made them turn in its direction. I had a measly nanosecond to garner reactions before my rival made contact with me in a lunge, nails getting caught on my hair as boney fingers found purchase on it. The pull had me roaring in response, my cup being thrown and crashing onto the floor so my hands could try to pull her wrists away - the carrier of the fight’s catalyst now discarded and useless.

An admission had to be made that she had much more stability on her too-many-inches-tall heels than I had on my shorter ones, her legs straight and steady while I had to keep mine slightly apart for any sort of balancing base. But what her possible past experience of pulling this kind of stunt before gave her in efficiency, I had in unbridled rage from my desire to protect what I saw as mine.

A dig of my own nails on her arm made her let go of my hair, yet I couldn’t even be proud of causing her torment, as my own scalp stung fiercely where the strands she had pulled were located. I wouldn’t know if what I was feeling was legitimate adrenaline, but it was pretty fucking close to the usual descriptions of it, since the pain dulled almost instantly and this time it was me going after her, raising my hand and lowering my open palm rapidly, striking wherever I was able to without further consideration. She began mimicking that move once I had one of her arms in grasp of my free hand, the accessories in her wrist clanging against each other and also against my body, and I found myself gritting my teeth to minimize the painful annoyance.

The makeshift ring we had in the form of dance floor space began to increase in size as more and more people stepped back to watch the scene, mostly through the screens of their own phone as they recorded the ordeal. External hands attached to some overly courageous faceless watchers kept on reaching out to us, trying to halt our aggression, yet they’d recoil quickly after one or two slaps we’d spare for them before going back to our original targets. People were yelling all over, trying to talk to each other or to us - yet the only things that reached our ears or left our throats were our own screams and animalistic growls, communicating in a language I’d never properly learned but knew by heart. Each snarl a constructed offense to Kandee’s irksome looks and demeanor, every shriek a warning for her to stay the fuck away from Kyley-B, wherever he was. The language of violence.

Those slaps began alternating with closed fist punches, any bruises or injuries sustained going ignored since we didn’t want to risk missing a chance to land anything else in. My teeth snapped against air in attempts to bite at any inch of her skin that got close enough to my mouth, while her feet turned in awkward directions when she tried to stab my own with her heel. Only much later did I realize the single thing holding me in that fight was that heart-clenching jealousy from earlier, as in any other situation my defeat would’ve been immediate and outright embarrassing. The strength rage brought me was all too appreciated, condensing around my hands in a glove simultaneously agonizing and comforting to wear.

One of her slaps fell weirdly on my exposed collarbone and she huffed following a tiny snapping sound; the fake nails on her middle and ring fingers now dangled precariously from them, broken and lame. Seizing the opportunity, I brought my own hand to her face, my index landing on her right eye in a very happy accident. With a yelp of utter pain, she covered her eye with one hand and pushed me away with the other unceremoniously, using the movement to propel herself back as well, creating a bit of extra distance to recover while I stumbled against an unknown hard surface behind me. Probably one of the onlookers, but I had no interest in apologizing for the impact. They should’ve known better. Looking down at her, I-

Looking down?

Strong, fake-tanned arms had my legs swiftly grabbed in the span of less than a second, throwing me over Kyley-B’s shoulder like I weighed nothing. The rings on his fingers dug slightly onto the back of my thighs in the successful effort of his hands to securely keep me in place, but I still grabbed at his shirt as if it would somehow save me if I were to fall. People around the fighting area all gasped in surprise with their heads tilted up as well, but the Jersey man had his back to most of them and, without as much as a glance or a word, began to carry me away from the scene; this time, he didn’t have to shove anyone away to make way for himself - people were intentionally stepping away from his path, unwilling to get caught in the mess.

The fight I put up to avoid being removed like that was inefficient, but it was there. Despite the fear of falling from the unusual height, my very present anger continued egging me towards bashing Kandee’s face right in, leading me to thrash around in my precarious position, disregarding potential damage trying to get him to drop me so I could go back to my previous task. The other woman clearly had the same idea, attempting to follow us through the corridor, but Kyley’s long stride had her eating dust within moments and she soon gave up, swallowed by the crowd that filled the space he’d gone through. By then my dress had given up on any coverage and was bunched up at my hips, my ass likely on full display to anyone who tried their luck at staring for too long, but the tension in my mind left me oblivious to it.

“Fuck you! Put me down! What are you doing?” I protested between muffled thumps of my fists against Kyley’s shoulder blade, the punches having as much effect as blowing him a kiss when it came to getting him to actually do what I said.

“Takin’ us outta here before the police does,” he grunted simply, turning his head to avoid the backwards kicks of my heels. Even with his eyes not on the target, he knew exactly where to go, able to continue without issue and helped by the voluntary clearing of his personal road.

“I don’t care about the police! Leave me alone!”

He did not.

My exposed skin felt torn through by a sudden gust of cold when the double doors were opened by an unknown entity to let us pass, and my screams of complaint were silenced by a hiss of discomfort. It hadn’t completely missed Kyley, whose shoulder tensed under my body as the difference in temperature caught him too. Getting distance from the club did nothing to dampen my fury and the urge to get back in there, so it was through sustained kicking and punching that the Jersey man power-walked away from the venue and into the young night.

Kyley-B’s sneakers were crunching gravel when he finally slowed down, reaching his car in the parking lot where we’d left it nearly an hour earlier. My throat was rough and tight from yelling, the alcohol not having given me much to fall back on in regards to that - so my complaints were scratchy and punctuated by cough fits, but not any less present.

“Fucking take me back there, you cretin! Put me down!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed noncommittally, the first actual words he’d spoken since we left the bar. But, instead of unlocking the vehicle for either of us to get in, he stopped right in front of it, bending forward slightly and lowering my feet to the ground.

I knew I wasn’t getting out of it that easy, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t make an attempt. As soon as my heels sank between the tiny stones, I was trying to make a run for it towards the exit to the parking lot - without any plan of what I’d do if I succeeded or fear of being tackled by a force much less gentle than the man who held me previously. If I was lucky, I could get back in or catch Kandee outside, rip off a hair extension or two as a prize. Having the scent of trouble as part of his notes and knowing what I was doing, Kyley once more stood ground, his hands drifting with a steady grip up my body as he straightened up in front of me.

“Let! Me! Go!” I insisted, trying to break free from his hold with quick movements of my body, deemed irrelevant in face of his strength.

“Fuckin’ relax already,” he huffed, “You ain’t going nowhere now.”

With just one small step forwards of his, I felt my - bare - ass against the hood of the car, cold from being out in the open at night. That chill spread up through my back, making me shudder; only for Kyley’s intense eyes to heat me up all over again, serious and unyielding gazing down toward me, adding a pinch of lust to the flush of rage on my body.

“Says who?” I questioned in a growl, trying to push away from the car and being pressed towards it further in return.

“You do,” he stated simply. Despite how nonsensical the answer was, it was also serious, as if he was doing nothing but placing a fact.

The scowl of anger I held flashed briefly with confusion, my eyebrows twitching. “The fuck does that even mean?”

This time, what twitched were his fingers on both sides of my hips, pressing down onto the bunched fabric of my dress. A smirk curved his lips, their taunting making me want to claw them right off of him - fuck, maybe Kandee was on to something with the unfashionable long nails. “Well, weren’t ya just yelling and screaming and wanting to be heard? You were saying something. I just listened.”

“I didn’t say anything! I don’t want nothing from you!”

“Oh, but you do.” And I didn’t get the chance to complain about how he was repeating himself - because with his hands still holding me, he began lowering himself to the ground, the crunching noises of the gravel beneath his knees deafening in the empty space. The stab of lust, which I was well-acquainted with, that went right through my womb at the sight of him looking up at me with that devilish smile made me groan in irritation with how I needed to rapidly suppress it.

“Stop talking nonsense!” My hands moved to his shoulders to try and shove him away this time, but all I managed from that contact was feeling the lift of them as Kyley-B shrugged carelessly.

“Alright.” He wiggled his eyebrows twice, his cursed smile not diminishing as he dropped his eyes towards what was right in front of him, level with my abdomen. “You talk then.”

There was no way in hell he’d given up so easily. I knew as much. But I couldn’t let the asinine behavior make me forget just how pissed off I was at this dude - this goddamn sexy, strong dude kneeling in front of me like- Focus!

“I have nothing to talk to you about!” Even in my annoyed tone, there was a shaky background to it now - my affections shining through, unfortunately. One of my feet stomped onto the ground once, commanding his eyes back on mine, to be taken seriously - instead, the hand closest to that leg tightened briefly on my hip before both of them began drifting down. It didn’t take long for those palms to reach bare skin, caressing the sides of my thighs, reminding me of just how uncovered the lower half of me had been since he picked me up back at the bar.

“You do.” Again, he repeated without missing a beat - and, not catching some deep-seated request of the old ‘me’ to be covered again, he brought the bunched dress further up, baring my legs completely; goosebumps all over them both from the slight cold and his touch, though I wouldn’t admit to the latter. “You’ve been yelling so much, it’s fuckin’ obvious. So do tell.” My thighs pressed together when his olive gaze landed on my underwear, the only coverage I had right then - if you could even call that the plain black ensemble I had on. Thin lace, which usually drew from him some sort of husky praise, but all I got was a faint tickle when his fingers began tracing the pattern of it on the waistband.

They hooked onto it after a moment, tugging down with the slowest pace, and the objection that instantly formed in my brain from the anger - telling him to stop, to pay attention to me - failed to make its way to my mouth. How could it? I was there because of him. My body craved Kyley’s touch like the feeling of home. Even those panties had been chosen with him in mind, knowing they’d be taken off later. My muscles were frozen, but my mind ran wild: the result was staying right put while refusing to be his mental peace. “Why don’t you go and ask fucking Kandee if she’s got something to say? Clearly y’all chummy enough for you to wanna know.”

Only later, sober, would I have noticed how easily I fell into his trap, the jealous sentence slipping from me in the form of an accusation while I thought it was a genius clapback. In my defense, it was my first time feeling that way.

The Jersey man clicked his tongue once, his eyes following the movement of his own hands. Down, down, those long fingers dragging my panties to my knees. “I don’t wanna know about her, I wanna know about you,” he insisted, his tone firm in its tease - for once in his life, he hadn’t taken to heart a complaint regarding him. “I’m chummy enough with you.”

I don’t wanna know about her - fuck if that sentence didn’t make the monster inside me growl in appreciation. Green-eyed. Like the man who caused it to awaken. This appreciation put a blowtorch to the ice that toughened my muscles, and I shifted my weight uncomfortably on my feet, testing the hint of movement that had been granted me. “Fuck off with that. If you wanted to know about me, you wouldn’t have left me alone back there,” I huffed, turning my face up to the night sky to avoid staring too much at the man down there to avoid further warming my cold shoulder.

“Mmhmm.” Right as I had committed to avoiding laying eyes on Kyley, my balance shifted terribly, a loud sound booming through the parking lot when I slammed my palms on the car hood behind me trying to stay upright. For the second time that night that he’d done something like this without warning, the man had lifted up my right foot, taking my panties off of that side and leaving the left leg ignored. Methodically, deeming irrelevant the noise or my gasp of surprise when I’d almost fallen - as long as he was there, I wouldn’t. “And that makes ya feel some type of way.”

“Of course I feel some type of fucking way!” With me trying to tug my own foot away from his grasp so I could stomp it on the ground again being fruitless, I settled for slapping the hood of the car a second time, figuring damage to the vehicle would startle him out of the nonchalance - yet he simply caressed my ankle with his thumb, the only show of acknowledgement on his part that I’d noticed when looking down being a particularly forceful blink. “I get my ass all dolled up for you, get out of my own fucking house to spend time with you and what do you do? You go talk to some fucking skank instead!”

A reaction. Sneaky, occurring despite himself, Kyley’s usual Jersey sincerity unable to hold back fully no matter how he tried. His bottom lip got caught between his teeth, his shirt shifting minimally with a brief tense of his shoulders, before he relaxed again. Whether it was the unbecoming amount of curse words in my voice or the content of my sentences, he wasn’t unaffected. “I… Fuck. Go on,” he grunted after a deep breath, resuming intentional movement: bringing the foot he held to his shoulder and keeping it there with one hand, placing the other on the inside of my left thigh. The warmth of his palm so intentionally close to my center would’ve been scorching if not for how heated his teasing moves already had me feeling.

The feedback hadn’t been enough, and it was driving me crazy, more than I even had gone during the fight. The walls of my throat burned with an acid sensation, wanting to say everything and nothing at the same time, dissolving me from the inside out. Where was his knowledge of me when I needed it?

“‘Go on!’ I- Look, just take me back home already,” I huffed, trying to ignore the increasingly overwhelming heat inside of me. If I couldn’t have what I wanted, neither would he, regardless of how much I wanted what he did too. ”I don’t wanna talk about this or anything else with you right now.”

With those words, Kyley’s fingers curled more vehemently around my ankle, like he’d been woken up from a state of drowsiness. His eyes snapped up to meet mine, and there he was again - intensity that teetered towards brutality, unwavering, infuriatingly dominant. If not for the things left unsaid, I might’ve been the one dropping to my knees there. “Stay,” he ordered, his tone making up in firmness for the usual anger it was conveniently missing. “Kitty wanted to show claw back there and argue, didn’t cha? Now I wanna fuckin’ hear ya meow.”

My thigh muscles quivered slightly, that being the stupidest last-ditch effort they could make to tell me to close myself off - both physically and emotionally - altogether. I knew his insistence would drop at the faintest hint of legitimate refusal from me: Kyley had never done to me anything I hadn’t wanted, and as much as I wouldn’t have admitted that then, he was just too fucking good a teacher to desires I struggled with understanding. Through that burning in my throat, I still couldn’t draw up any refusal, since there was none inside.

Plus the threat of my absence had made the Jersey man all too aware of the itch under his own skin, I could tell. Because he wasted no more time before putting his face close up to my pussy, startling me slightly and making me back up even more towards the car while he deeply inhaled the scent of me. His hand inched even closer, his intention clear - mine, too, when my hips shifted automatically towards him, my clit brushing against his nose.

And there he stayed.

Sight locked onto my face, wide dark pupils reflecting whatever tiny dots of light they could catch from sources nearby. If I focused, I’d see myself in them.

Waiting.

Kyley wasn’t lying when he said he wanted me to meow; if I wanted to be soothed from the ache his proximity had developed within me, then I’d better start talking. His breath so close to where I was most sensitive felt like a caress, bringing me a strange sense of comfort regardless of the nature of that contact.

“And… And I don’t even know what you see in her!” When I resumed speaking, it was undecided, still reeling from the scolding I’d received - but remembering the subject lit a fire under my ass again, and I was interested in rambling again in the blink of an eye. “Everything about her is fake! Her face, her hair, her goddamn-”

I cut myself off with a cry. Kyley’s soft lips had found my clit and wrapped around it, sucking with gentle steadiness. His tongue flicked over it carefully, unwilling to overwhelm me but certainly demanding attention. Which it got. The fingertip of his index circled my entrance with a feather-light graze, annoying in its taunt - the Jersey playboy couldn’t speak, but he was still telling me to talk. And I had to retract every single time I’d shushed someone into silence in my job at the library, because I found myself to be quite the blabbermouth.

“Ngh… Her- ah- her fucking clothes-” His finger breached my entrance all the way to the first knuckle, and the odd absence of the feeling of hard metal against my walls meant he was either favourably missing one on that particular digit or took it off while I wasn’t looking.” “- They’re so fucking trashy! She dresses like a whole-ass hooker, I don’t know what you see in-” Another interruption as his finger began pumping in and out of me, matching the rhythm his tongue had on my clit. Sure of itself, sure of how needed it was.

Whines began spilling from me, half grateful for the permission of pleasure and half critical of it not being nearly enough. The unshakeable concentration I used to build up my animosity towards Kandee was becoming flimsier, my hands balling into fists over the hood of the car like they wanted to physically hold onto that negativity, while the riveting touches I was receiving begged - not exactly silently, given the wet sounds my cunt was making with the pumps of Kyley’s finger - for me to let go and be free.

“And it’s such bullshit that you listened to her… You just left me there… Aaah…”

Every time I tried to resume stating my grievances, more of the decisiveness was shaved from my tone when Kyley showed that he was, in fact, listening. A second finger found its way deep inside me, then a third after a particularly curse-heavy protest; curling inside of me seductively, massaging my G-spot with the magical precision only someone who knew my body better than I did could gather. Meanwhile, his soft tongue lapped and swirled around my clit in earnest, making me even more delirious with desire.

Closing my eyes in that state brought me right back to the club from earlier: with its colorful lights sparking behind my eyelids, their glow now inviting instead of oppressive. A separate party made specifically for me and under my own terms. Rainbows of neon in the darkness, their hues hitting my skin and healing me with their energy in ways that would make even the highest partygoers back at the real place think maybe they had enough. The thumping in my ears no longer came from mediocre remixes or my heart in the throes of rage - now it matched the tempo of my clenching walls, with the squelching from the thrusts of the Jersey man’s fingers in and out providing a perfect background beat and the less than conscious rolls of my hips towards his mouth being my own way of dancing to it.

Damn, I guess that drink I had was stronger than I thought.

Weaving through the colors and music, there was one other presence. Kyley-B and the reds and oranges that I’ve learned to attach to the memory of him, fiery, burning me up. Because of course - he was the one who brought me all that bliss, who pulled me into that mental space that ressignified all my experiences into something marvelous. Perhaps I wasn’t listening to his grunts of satisfaction at my taste on his tongue, but I could feel them vibrating up my skin, adding to the inevitable climax building up inside me.

“I… I didn’t-… Ngh… Ah-… I didn’t want to… Mmph…”

As the blaze in my lower abdomen roared fiercer and fiercer, the sour coating in my throat had wholly vanished, converted into honey with every whine and cry I let out. Some attempts at speaking were still weakly being made, now more due to Kyley having requested it rather than any remaining outrage, but they got lost almost immediately.

And I only had the vocalizations of ecstasy to give out when the inner inferno hit me like an outside explosion, endorsed to my hazy mind by the bang of metal when my ass hit the car hood - my straightened knee buckling and denying me of balance when my orgasm struck, any leftover stress and tension rippling right out via my quivering muscles. Over Kyley’s shoulder, his hand tightened around my ankle to keep it held while the fingers on the other continued to fuck me through my orgasm without faltering.

Only when my legs started literally shaking from overstimulation and another metallic sound denounced that I’d laid down fully over the car, my eyes wide staring at the moon above without committing the sight to memory, did the man decide he was “done”. Scare quotes needed, as he never seemed to be quite done with me. He let go of me and got up quickly, one hand already moving to his belt - frankly, the fact he’d managed to go all that time teasing and listening without actually giving me dick was commendable in itself for how out of character that restraint was.

“Ya good enough to handle it now, doll face?” He asked roughly, the other hand moving to my knee, which shook under his touch. My eyes were drawn to it, then to his own, my vision still unfocused from pleasure - but taking in his handsome face and the obvious interest in his features had my mouth watering. I nodded automatically, not trusting myself to speak lest I actively drool.

The next seconds were a blur - he might’ve taken his time with me, but now his hunger was back in full force and he was not gonna starve any longer. His pants and underwear were down in one swift movement, and just as swiftly he’d grabbed my hips and pulled me along the hood towards him, both my legs wrapping around his waist like they’d been trained for such. Then all of his length was inside me; one fast, slick thrust making me cry out again with a volume I didn’t know I even had to give anymore as he filled up the emptiness his fingers left.

“Thank fuck,” he panted, the sheer relief in that breath he let out showing just how much being patient had taken out of him. Waiting for something he wanted was physical pain to the Jersey playboy, and my cunt was finally healing that ache.

Taking advantage of how wet and ready I was, he didn’t wait for me to adapt to his girth; the pace he immediately set was quick and rough, slamming into me with the frenzy a man only gets when he’s one moment away from pleading. He didn’t quite get to doing that, probably would’ve died before it happened, but it was obvious. The hold on my hips, possessive as always, continued pulling me towards him so I’d meet those harsh thrusts like the concept of any space between us was inadmissible, a concept corroborated by the dents his fingers created on my flesh where they held my hips.

With his cock knocking the air right out of my lungs every time its head slammed right into my cervix, and the lightning jolts that struck my body in succession, it was outright impossible for me to form any of those complaints he’d demanded from me earlier - but luckily they were no longer necessary, as my companion appeared to have forgotten all about that situation. And so had I, fully now. Kandee who? What club? At that moment, Kyley-B was mine, irrevocably. Those strong arms that held me so tight, those hips that my legs struggled to stay wrapped around with how fast they moved, those groans and huffs of bliss when I clenched even tighter around him… those were mine.

Mind reader that he was - or likely noticing the smile that had grown on my face, the delight in my features that went past just sexual pleasure -, Kyley leaned towards me when that knowledge permeated my hazy brain, his breath warm against my skin as he rested his forehead on my collarbone. “Fucking beautiful thing you are, sweets,” he husked with a grin of his own, “I’m all here f’ya…”

I hummed in agreement at his words, though they’d take two or three more thrusts before I’d actually understand them. “Here for me…” I echoed in hardly a breath, closing my eyes and letting his presence encompass me again.

The top of my dress was hastily tugged down, possibly by his teeth, letting my breasts spill free from it due to the lack of a bra. Those same teeth briefly bit my hardened nipple and the gasp from the minimal pain I felt dissolved into a moan when his lips began suckling on me, instantly soothing and bringing more sparks of delight to my skin with the movement of his mouth.

After years, that fucking garment had finally paid itself via the ease it created for that moment to happen - and if I started wearing it more I might have to give it even more money instead.

“And you’re here f’me too, ain’t ya, pretty…? Soft and wet and ready and all that good stuff that you are… Just for me…” Kyley broke his veneration of my breast temporarily to speak between harsh breaths, his hips starting to stray from the speedy pace they had set as he got lost in the heat and scent of my body, frenzy for frenzy’s sake becoming a chase after his release.

Oh, I was everything for him. Pretty, flexible, ready, soft… and most importantly, close. I almost couldn’t feel the metal under me anymore with how my back arched away from it, pressing my upper body towards his own. With a full-body jerk courtesy of the extra sensitivity from being overstimulated earlier, I shouted his name out into the world as I came again, my legs somehow finding strength to wrap around him more fiercely, trapping his body against mine while my cunt milked his cock for everything that it had. This time, I was taking him out with me. And it worked - his roar sent another shiver through me as his throbbing length, still relentlessly thrusting inside of me, filled me with strong jets of his seed. Leaving me full of him.

With the bliss of climax keeping us together in the beautiful moment that followed, with him laid on top of me and slowing his movements to a stop as we both panted our lungs out, I fleetingly felt an abnormal sense of pride. But as the fog of lust dissipated from over us like dry ice, one specific sentiment I hadn’t had time or need to feel yet ultimately emerged. Embarrassment. Memories of the fight, the punches exchanged, and most of all, the things I’d told Kyley while he was eating me out. Even the pain from the bruises and small injuries I’d sustained from the brawl arose too, having waited specifically for that moment - where I’d be at my lowest, raw enough to feel everything times a hundred. That pride went as it came. Fast and undeserved.

Pretending nothing had happened wasn’t an option. The ordeal was ridiculous, out of character, a severe lapse of judgement; yet it was me regardless. Confessing to all those emotions of jealousy and agony while in one of my most vulnerable moments - with my cunt right on Kyley’s mouth - made it impossible to just ignore. I had done all those things and needed to bear the consequences.

“I… I’m sorry.” I muttered, nearly inaudible, turning my frowning face to the side and closing my eyes. It was too shameful to stare at Kyley in that moment.

A deep breath of his made goosebumps spread on my chest before he placed the softest kiss to the valley between my breasts. “Don’t.”

“I’m sorry.” My repetition came louder, more stiff, with my frown intensifying as I decided to get serious. “I don’t know what came over me there, I…”

“I said don’t.” That firmness I held was mirrored by him - but in his voice, it was way more powerful. Enough to make my eyes snap open. “Didn’t ask ya to apologize for nothin’.”

Kyley’s weight left my body and I looked at him to see he had adjusted his posture; standing tall with his cock still inside of me, a smirk twitching one corner of his mouth when he saw me staring. Those large hands began roaming the uncovered parts of my body - which were virtually all of it - distractedly, palm fully open to feel as much of it as possible. A sheen of sweat lingered on his fake-tanned skin and had also dampened his shirt, making it cling to the point where I could discern his actual muscles - or maybe said shirt was just that tight and I was just that used to his body.

What really confounded me was how happy he seemed. In that smirk, taunting as usual, there was genuine contentment, which I’d learned to recognize in him from those moments we’d spent just the two of us. That memory made my heart clench; those moments, which had been so important to me and I’d worried so much that he didn’t feel the same about them. The embarrassment had also brought back the insecurity about them, and through all I’d confessed, at no point did I actually find out what I wanted.

“But I have to.” I propped myself on my elbows, attempting to meet his certainty head-on by repositioning my body. “I went all crazy. I picked a whole fight and almost made us get kicked out of the club. I ruined our night.”

“Ruined?” Kyley frowned. “I think it went pretty great.” He glanced down, towards where we were still connected, that smirk never leaving.

For emphasis, he moved his hip the smallest bit towards mine one last time, his softening dick moving inside me and making me bite my lip briefly before he completely pulled out. Smooth son of a bitch. But I needed to face the music.

“You know what I mean,” I insisted, “I know I shouldn’t have done all that, but… It was a lot, okay? I got really nervous because you weren’t there and-”

“That’s not what ya tryna apologize for, though.”

“I am!”

“Nah. You didn’t get nervous.” His hands squeezed my shoulders, where they’d stopped their roaming briefly before returning to that. “You got jealous. There’s a difference.”

Well. with or without taking Merriam-Webster into consideration, he wasn’t wrong - nonetheless, hearing it from his mouth was bothersome. “That- that doesn’t matter. I really was nervous…”

“It matters. One’s hotter.”

I gasped. “Huh?”

My reaction made Kyley’s lips twitch at the corners in genuine amusement while he leaned towards me, placing his palms on the car hood on either side of my thighs now. “You got jealous and it was hot as hell.” In tandem with the teasing edge of his explanation, there was certainty. “My sweet little kitten gettin’ feisty with this chick she didn’t even know just because she got too close to me? Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

The feral part of said kitten wanted to ask why the fuck he hadn’t told me that sooner. But, unfortunately, it was asleep, and what was awake was the one that couldn’t remotely conceive what he was on about due to shame. “It wasn’t gorgeous, it was embarrassing!” I protested, “A scandal, Kyley! I started this fight in front of all those people-”

“Beautiful fight, by the way,” he interjected, his left hand moving to reassuringly rest over my right. “You landed some real nice hits on her there. Should’ve known you had it in ya. Made me hard as fuck.”

“H-hard?”

“Goddamnit, baby, why do you think I took you outta there so fast like that?” He chuckled dryly. “Damn near impossible to stay even a second longer without gettin’ my hands on you, and then you’d have a real fuckin’ scandal.”

My face heated up again, for a different reason. When I thought I’d heard it all from him, he’d come up with stuff like this and make me blush shades of red I didn’t know the human skin could achieve. “What about Kandee, then?” I pushed the words out with a slight struggle, dragging the weight of the matter over my tongue like sandpaper. “I hit her! I hurt her! You care about her, don’t you?”

“FUCK no!”

The scene that unfolded was nearly hilarious. Losing the taunt altogether, Kyley huffed and shook his head fiercely, reminding me in a weird way of a dog that had just been fed medicine - if I pressed the issue, I might’ve witnessed him actively retching to try and spit my words out. “I never wanted nothing to do with her. She’s garbage!”

Not that I didn’t agree - heaven knows I did -, but such a visceral reaction drew shock from me. “But I thought-” I sputtered, coughing to clear my throat while trying not to appear as pleasantly surprised as I was. I still needed an explanation, after all. “- But I thought you were close!”

Another huff. “Don’t bunch me up with that shit.” He rolled his eyes. “That bitch is fucking annoying is what she is. Pisses me the fuck off. Don’t know a single fucker that wants to be near all that bullshit.”

Even though I refrained from full-blown laughing, the smallest snort still went through my nose, and from how Kyley’s smirk returned, safe to say he’d caught on to that. “But why be so nice to her, then? Why talk to her at all?”

“Because you’re always tellin’ me to chill!” He gestured towards me with one hand. “You’re always doing shit for me. Gettin’ dressed up all pretty and goin’ places with me. I didn’t wanna stress you out.”

Any words I’d ever learned were wiped right out of my mind for a moment, leaving only the specific sequence of I didn’t wanna stress you out. Never before had I seen the Kyley-B care about the peace of mind of anyone - not even his own, considering how he tagged along with trouble in a very close friendship. Regardless, here he was, telling me he’d been nice to someone he didn’t even like specifically because he thought it’d humor me.

“So I thought maybe I could play it cool and she would leave, no sweat,” he continued, “But then you came and I had to commit.”

“... Why me?”

Momentarily, Kyley looked as confused as I was. “What?”

The questioning left my vocal chords mechanically. My insecurity had them well-trained for that. “Why me?” I repeated, placing one hand in front of my mouth to hide at least part of the jaw-dropped expression that I couldn’t shake and which showed in my tone regardless of if I’d managed to visually hide all of it. “Why would you do all that for someone like me? I’m just another girl!”

“Whatcha talkin’ about?”

“Don’t do this to me now,” I sighed, “You know it, Kyley. You have so many girls that hang out with you all the time. You can do whatever you want… You don’t owe me a single thing.” My voice got thicker with emotion, and I dropped my hand as I lowered my face. “It really is ridiculous. I got jealous around you and we’re not even together.”

“Well, let’s get this show on the road then!”

I didn’t need to look at him to tell that the confusion had vanished. Usual Kyley-B, confident, strong-willed and opinionated, was back. And, much like many times before where he’d done something that came out of nowhere, I was left stunned.

Time spent together had taught him how to work around this, given he didn’t wait for me to talk before continuing. “If the issue is we’re not together, then let’s be together,” he declared, “There ya go. No more issue.”

My heart skipped a beat at those two little sentences, jumping at the opportunity to take them for itself. Yet it didn’t matter what it wanted - my rational mind knew how things actually were with Kyley. “That’s not how it works.”

“And why not?”

I swallowed hard, preparing to say the words that were sure to squeeze my chest into a bloody pulp. “Being ‘together’ is not what you think it is, Kyley,” I told him, and sure enough, each syllable was harder and harder to push out. “Sure, we hang out, we talk, we… fuck… But it’s not just that. It’s a lot of other stuff, it’s more important.”

“I know that,” He groaned, clearly growing frustrated with having to extend a question that to him had a clear-cut answer. “Like bein’ exclusive, right? Goin’ on dates, livin’ together and shit?”

Him saying it with all the words so easily wasn’t on the script, but it did save me the trouble of explaining. “Well… Yes. Mostly that.”

“Then I don’t know what the fuck we’re waitin’ for!”

I lifted my face to look at him. He’d crossed his arms and was shifting his weight between his legs restlessly, looking bigger than usual given how small I felt yet somehow… vulnerable at the same time.

“Look, I don’t… I don’t want to take anything from you,” I admitted gingerly, my throat getting agonizingly tighter as I thought about what the fuck we, or at least I, had been waiting for. “You… You like to party, to be with other girls. You don’t want me to take that away from you.”

“Take what away? What you’re talkin’ about ain’t that much different from what I’ve been doin’ already,” he countered, shrugging with naturality. But then his eyebrows arched, awareness of something crossing his mind - something unknown flashed behind his eyes while his upper body tensed up, hands balling into fists with his arms still crossed. “Unless you…”

“No!” I exclaimed right away, my eyes widening. There was no fear in my face or in my voice - only astonishment that such a concept would even be brought up as an option. “I’m not, at all!”

His guarded posture loosened up immediately at my confirmation, but my astonishment didn’t. The clear upset he had displayed at the assumption of me being with other men besides him had me caught up in it. It was familiar - and suddenly I was all the way back inside the club, cackling with that fury I had roaring inside my chest. Kyley… He’d known what that was before I did. And if it had been so strong within me, who’d never dealt with it before… How painful could it be to someone who was like that by default?

My gaze softened towards him, trying to bring him further tranquility. “I’m… Not with anyone.” I repeated, shaking my head slowly. “Are you?”

“Ain’t that what I just said?” The corners of his lips twitched, a pleased smile trying to form. “No, I’m not. Haven’t been since you came into my life.”.

Truth was, I hadn’t been exactly caught up in Kyley-B’s romantic or sexual endeavors - a deliberate decision that had eaten me up inside, but which the absence of would’ve proven even more unhealthy considering what I thought I’d find out. I didn’t want to hear about all the women he was likely getting it on with, women that my mind perceived as being much prettier, much more fun, much better aligned with what he demanded in life. Yes, the fact that he hadn’t brought it up in conversation either had been a little off to me - it wasn’t like he’d made an effort to hide his popularity from what I’d known of him prior to actually getting involved with the guy -, but I’d attributed it to just… basic human decency he wasn’t impervious to. Not to there being literally nothing to bring up.

“I… Didn’t know that.”

“‘Course you didn’t. Wouldn’t be having this talk if ya did.”

“So… Does that mean…” I coughed once, trying to distract myself from how fast my heart was beating. Put myself together. “You’ve just been… Waiting? For me?”

“Sorta, yeah. I was tryna… be better for you, actually.” And for the first time in that conversation, he averted his eyes. His arms uncrossed, lingering at his sides lazily, making him look every bit like an awkward teenager about to confess to his crush. Reticent and so unlike him. “Get my shit together. Put in the work if I wanna be worthy, ya know? Cut back on the bullshit to show I can settle down and-”

My heels were on the ground before I knew it. The scent of sweat and Kyley’s usual cologne invaded my nostrils when my face found his neck, with my arms wrapping around him with all the strength I could muster. I didn’t care about fixing the dress on my body or cutting back on the emotion; I needed him as close as I could, needed him to know exactly how much I’d cared through the past months, all the anguish I’d had in me each day that passed without being his. Not formally, anyway.

And he’d been waiting to be better for me. How the fuck did he not know he was already the best he could ever be, and that I’d been the one thinking I lacked what was necessary to be his partner? Hadn’t he seen all the changes within me, how much more free I acted when he was around, how he brought forth everything my heart desired in the simplest way possible?

“Fuck you,” I muttered against his shirt, my upper body shaking as tears began to stung in my eyes, making my breath catch in my throat. “Fuck you, you dumbass.”

There was absolutely no bite in my curses, but they still startled the man inside my embrace, who quickly wrapped his own arms around me protectively. “Calm down, sweet,” he murmured back, kissing the side of my head and letting his lips linger there. “This ain’t you.”

“No way. Fuck you.” A sob cut my sentence in half, and I had to take a deep breath before resuming it, overpowered by sentiment. “You don’t have to change a thing.”

“You just called me a dumbass. Don’t I have to change that?”

I shook my head, my nose ruffling his shirt. “Not even that. But you should’ve told me.”

Another kiss, his breath ruffling my hair as he chuckled. “I didn’t want ya to feel pressured.” He confessed, losing some of the worry I’d drawn up in him with my sudden actions. “Wanted ya to come to me on your own terms. Not feel forced just because I was doin’ work. If you were happy with how things were, then… I wanted to stick around and be a part of that.”

“Happy with how things were?” I pulled back slightly, finding him already looking down at me. His olive eyes were unusually gentle, a lightness reserved to either post-coital moments or days where we’d dial back and spend quality time together in more peaceful ways than he was accustomed to. Now I’d have to add ‘charged confessions in dark parking lots’ as a third situation. “Kyley, it’s been… Lovely. Every single day we spent together was awesome. I just… didn’t think you cared about anything more… And I didn’t want to be a bother with what I wanted.”

Again, the concept of distance between us became unimaginable to Kyley. One of his hands found the back of my head and pressed it right against his shoulder again, keeping me there gently. “Don’t ever say that shit again.” Yes, there was heftiness to his scolding, but it was tender - maybe he wanted it to come off a lot nicer than it did. “You could never bother me. Goddamn, doll… You’re amazing. You taught me shit I’d never even imagined. You showed me things I didn’t know I needed. You… You’re it for me, (Y/N).”

My tears began freely dampening his shirt, but I didn’t care. Those sentences, that simple declaration Kyley-B style, direct and honest and endearing and perfect. It might not have been as grandiose as the confessions I’d read in the many romance novels I’d consumed, but did it matter? It was all I ever wanted to hear from the man I wanted to hear them from. And that made it the most wonderful moment imaginable.

Through my tears, I started laughing. A soft, light giggle, swaying my heart into relief and calm by shaking away all the leftover pain. “You’re it for me too, Kyley,” I murmured with a choked sob, “I don’t want you to change. I want to be with you, just the way you are.”

“Then ya got me,” he concluded in a whisper. Unnecessary, given how alone we were outside, but it held weight - even if we’d been in the most populated space imaginable, those words were meant for me only. “You’re always gonna have me, baby. I wasn’t ever anywhere else… You’ve been stuck with me since the moment we met.”

Funny he said that. Because I always thought it was the other way around. The tiny wisp of me, following this great thing that was him. Hoping to one day walk together. When we’d been doing so all that time.

A few sniffles helped with slowing down the fall of my tears, along with him caming me down. His fingers scratched the back of my head distractedly, curling into my hair in a cautious caress. In that moment, in his arms, he held the most precious thing he had. And I did too.

“But… If you want to continue trying to get me to stay by startin’ shit in nightclubs, I don’t mind. I told ya, it’s really fucking hot,” he added playfully, tugging at my hair once before petting it again. “Just want ya to know you don’t have to. No one’s gonna steal me.”

“Screw you,” I chuckled, stepping lightly on his shoe in retaliation. “If you’d told me how you felt earlier, I wouldn’t have had to do that.”

“Maybe not.” He took his foot away from under mine, giving it the smallest kick. “But I loved to see it. Shows you care, doll. And that… That makes me happy.”

This realization made my tears stop completely with how impactful it was. I… hadn’t seen it that way. All I latched onto was how awful it felt, how ridiculous, how unlike me it was.Maybe it wasn’t unlike me - it was just the part of me that cared about that Jersey playboy a little too much trying to show that.

Taking that into consideration, perhaps his nice confessions and protective stances were… his way of doing the same.

“Maybe I can do that in other ways,” I squeezed him inside of my arms briefly. “Without… You know… Causing a ruckus.”

“Have you ever seen me give a fuck about ruckus?” Kyley said playfully. “We’ll go at your pace, sweets. Gonna be perfect regardless.”

No doubt it would. Yet, considering he was giving me his ‘permission’... Maybe his inner ruckus and mine could mingle more from then on.

Normalcy returned with our light-hearted banter. Our surroundings became irrelevant. We stayed in that embrace for what felt like an eternity and not long enough, chests rising and falling against each other in peaceful deep breaths while our hearts beat in synchronicity. Not the first time we were like this, and definitely not the last, but special. Like a warm light, one I’d been chasing for so long, had at last wrapped around us, tying us together like never before.

“But look, if I can just say somethin’...”

Heeere we go. That tone of his that drags on, starting unassuming, but promising a Jersey-level rant. I could recognize that from miles away.w

“It’s been fuckin’ hard, ya know? Tryna be nice to so many of these people. This town is filled with so many assholes ya wouldn’t believe this shit. I don’t know how you manage! It’s all…”

Yup, there it is.

I listened to all of it with a smile on my face. Because it was mine to listen to. Kyley-B was mine, he trusted me, he wanted me - prim and proper or starting shit, it didn’t matter. And I’d want him in any way that he came, as long as it was towards me.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

27 notes · View notes

paramountinplace · 2 days ago

Note

Could you write something about Mari shyly asking if she could get a Luke skywalker action figure cause she saw that Mel got a Darth Vader action figure as a reward. Van and Tai were at first very skeptical thinking maybe she was asking as a new way to tease Mel but no she just secretly loves Star Wars. And absolutely lights up when they (hesitantly) agree to get it for her.

(I am pushing my silly little ‘Mari is actually a secret nerd’ agenda)

I Choose Luke - Little!Mari

Summary: As detailed above! Mari badly wants a Luke Skywalker action figure, but is met with a bit of skepticism. Turns out, she just loves Star Wars.

Mari had been inching closer and closer to Van ever so slowly, trying to make her approach seem casual. Van was pretending not to notice the girl staring at her and taking a few steps closer at a time, wanting to see how this was going to play out. Finally, Mari gave up the act of casually getting Van's attention and threw herself down on the couch next to her.

"Oh, hey, kiddo!" Van greeted, enthusiastically. "Where'd you come from?"

The look she got in return was disbelieving.

"I was right there," Mari replied, pointing a few feet away.

"I didn't even notice," Van said drily.

Mari huffed but waved a hand between them dismissively.

"I have a question," she stated. Van nodded encouragingly. Mari took a deep breath before speaking again. "I want a new toy."

"You've got an allowance, don't you?"

"No!" Mari cried, crossing her arms. "You know that."

"Alright, alright, sorry, kid," Van relented. "Done with the jokes."

"You know how I've been so good about not getting into fights with Shauna?" Mari asked.

Van considered this. Mari had, by all accounts, been unusually well behaved in the past week. She'd gotten into no more than two minor disputes with Gen, hadn't said a mean word when Misty came home drenched by the rain, done all her chores without being asked, and taken care of Akilah for a whole day without complaining about it once. And, as she'd claimed, she hadn't gotten into any fights with Shauna—not even when the other girl had nicked a few of Mari's barbies to use in her reenactment of the Titanic.

"You have been quite good about that, Mar," she agreed. Mari's face lit up and she nodded eagerly, leaning a little closer to Van in her excitement.

"And you know how you got Mel something for getting her cast off without throwing a fit?"

Van nodded. They had gotten Mel something for getting her cast off without throwing a fit, as had been frantically promised by Tai when Mel burst into tears upon being told she would have to go back to the hospital in a week to get her cast off. She'd very carefully picked out a Darth Vader action figure, holding up proudly to Van once she'd made her selection. Mel had been in a bit of a Star Wars phase and had been wearing the same Stormtrooper-emblazoned hat every day for more than a month.

"We did do that, yeah."

"So, I was thinking maybe I could get something too if I keep not fighting with Shauna," Mari mumbled, suddenly shy as she looked down at her lap.

Van smiled, reaching out to tip Mari's chin up. She didn't think Tai would mind if she agreed without consulting her.

"That sounds like a great plan, bub," she said. "If you can give me one more week without fighting, we'll go to the store, okay?"

The ultimatum motivated Mari so much over the next week that she strayed into absurdity—avoiding Shauna at all costs, which Tai quickly put a stop to when she realized and explained to Mari that while she was glad she was taking it so seriously, avoiding Shauna was probably more likely to end in a fight than just being nice.

Despite one minor spat, Tai and Van decided at the end of the week that Mari had done well enough to earn her reward. Mari was thrumming with quiet excitement as they buckled her into the car, kicking her feet happily as they made the trip to the store. She was so excited that she didn't say a word as they arrived, letting Van and Tai follow her into a toy aisle as she weaved through the store with expert precision.

She picked something up off a shelf and turned back to them.

"Done," she murmured. Tai blinked as Van hide a chuckle behind her hand. They'd been expecting as least twenty minutes of back-and-forth alongside multiple requests to go to a different store or to type something into Google to see if there was a better version of a toy.

"What've you got, honey?" Tai asked.

Mari bit her lip before revealing the toy from behind her back.

"Luke," she whispered.

Van winced, knowing immediately that they were gonna have to vet the pick before they allowed her to take it home.

"Why Luke, Mar?" She asked gently, trying not to seem too accusatory. It just seemed a little too opportune with Mel's new Darth Vader figure. Mari was clever—she could find a way to use the toy to taunt Mel in some way.

Mari looked a little confused at the question.

"Because," she said matter-of-factly, "he's a Jedi and he's the best fighter of all of them. Even better than Obi-Wan."

Van had to hide her face behind her hand again, so endeared by the answer that she could barely keep from laughing. Now that she was thinking about it, Mari had been present at every single one of Mel's Star Wars movie nights. She kept pretending her bike helmet was a Stormtrooper helmet and she'd gotten into a row with Mel about which lightsaber color she would have if she were a Jedi. She'd even begged for a copy of the Lego Star Wars game for the Nintendo, which Van had barely thought twice about because of course Mari wanted that one—it was the third coolest one.

"I think she's serious, Tai," she murmured. Tai nodded slowly, still a little skeptical.

"What are you gonna do with Luke?"

Mari shrugged. "Make him fight my Barbies. Fly an X-wing. Maybe get stranded in the freezer. Dunno yet, really."

Tai's face melted into a smile and she nodded.

"Alright, Mar. Let's pay and get you home, then."

She bounced up on her toes, grinning happily as she reluctantly handed the toy over to Tai so she could pay for it while her and Van looked at the trading cards by the register. Once paid, she reached for it again and kept it held closely against her side the entire ride home, sprinting into the house once they'd arrived to find Mel.

"Look, Mel, look!" She cried, skidding into the kitchen.

"Shoes!" Tai reminded, shucking her coat off. Mari toed them off where she was standing, leaving them in the middle of the floor as she and Mel took off to get her Darth Vader figure to play with. She hadn't even taken Luke out of the packaging yet.

Van went over to pick up the shoes, returning Tai's eyebrow raise with a smile and a shrug.

"Aw, c'mon, she's so excited. She wasn't trying to be a pain. You'd let me get away with it," she defended, watching a Tai's mouth twisted into a smile.

"I would," she hummed.

Mari came sliding back into the kitchen, breathless and brandishing her toy with Mel close behind her.

"Can you help us open this, please?" She asked sweetly. Tai grabbed a scissors from a drawer, carefully extracting the toy from the plastic as Mari and Mel watched, tense with anticipation.

"There you go," she said, handing Mari the toy. Mel squealed and immediately ran into the other room, but Mari hesitated by Tai's side for a long moment.

"Um, thank you for the toy," she rushed out, cheeks flushing as she gave Tai a quick hug, doing the same to Van before she hurried after Mel.

"Too cute," Van mused, shaking her head, "too cute."

I never know how to end these. Hope you enjoy, anon, sorry for the bit of a wait!

#yellowjackets agere #sfw agere #asks #fic #little!mariibarra

22 notes · View notes

eviemonroeer · 20 hours ago

Text

The Monroe Effect: Chapter 20

Set during Season 6, Episode 2 of ER. Spoilers if you haven't seen the show.

Warnings: THIS CHAPTER IS 18+ ONLY!! MDNI. Smut. Language.

WC: 3.0 k

ER story belongs to original creators, just adding on my own original charter.

Taglist: @pleasecallmeunhinged, @rainmg, @arigoldsblog, @queenslandlover-93, @hagarsays, @antisocialfiore, @snowflames-world and @guiltypleassure243

Main Story: prev | next

Snapshots: prev | next

Again, 18 + ONLY.

I smiled as I watched Carter sleep beside me. I had gotten up a little bit earlier to use the bathroom and had a hard time getting back to sleep. So, I just stayed up and watched him. It was actually pretty nice having someone to wake up to in the morning. He looked so much younger while he slept. And, despite his insistence otherwise, he snored. Not horribly, but enough to be audible. His mouth always hung open just a little, exposing his front teeth. It was honestly kind of cute and made me happy.

I laid a hand on his chest and tried to close my eyes to doze for a few more minutes. “Good morning.” A gruff voice said. I opened my eyes again and met his big beautiful brown ones. God, I really hoped our baby had them.

“Morning.” I replied and stroked his face. “Sleep okay?”

He nodded and came over to me, kissing me on the lips. My hands found their way to his face as the kissing got a little heavier. I tried to get as close to him as my bump would allow. God, he felt so good. The past week or so, my libido had gone through the roof and the prospect of slow morning sex sounded so good. I brought my legs up and turned us so that I was on top of him. I moved my kisses to his neck and slowly started to move my hand down to the waistband of his boxers.

“Wait!”

I sat up and looked at him. “What’s wrong?”

Suddenly, the alarm of the clock began buzzing on the side table. He sat up, forcing me to get off of him to sit on the bed. “We’ve got to get ready for work. Why don’t you hop in the shower, and I’ll start breakfast?” He kissed me quickly on the lips before literally jumping out of bed and leaving the room.

What the hell just happened?

The whole rest of the morning, Carter avoided me. He kissed me once as he went out into the ER, but it was just a quick peck. Had I crossed a boundary this morning? Or did he not want to be with me physically anymore? I talked myself through both scenarios as I sat in the lounge, taking a break to rest my feet and get some water. A few minutes into my inner meltdown, Connie walked in. She smiled at me and grabbed a mug for coffee. She had a few kids. Maybe she would be good to talk to about this?

“Hey Connie, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure sweetie. What’s up?”

I gestured for her to sit down and began twiddling my fingers as I tried to find the right words. “Uh, when you were pregnant......did you.... did you......” I paused, suddenly embarrassed I was even going to talk about this.

“It’s alright Evie. Whatever you ask isn’t going to shock me. I’ve had three babies.”

I sighed. “Did you have an increased sex drive?”

Connie’s eyebrows raised, obviously surprised this was what I wanted to know. “All women are different. Some don’t want to have sex at all, some want it all the time. That’s how I was with my second. I was insatiable.”

“Oh, thank God.” I breathed out, my shoulders sagging. “I thought I was crazy for feeling this way.”

“I thought with how you and Carter are, you’d be okay.” I scoffed and shook my head, going to bite my nails. “Whatever you tell me won’t leave this room.” I looked up at her. “I promise. No one else will hear about it.”

I sighed. “Carter and I.......we haven’t.......” I huffed and closed my eyes. “Carter and I haven’t had sex since I got pregnant.”

“Oh.” Connie said, her eyes widening some.

“Oh?” I asked, suddenly worried.

“No, no. Calm down. It wasn’t a bad oh. I just thought you two would be going at it like rabbits once you were officially together.”

“Well, we only started dating a couple months ago. And it’s not like we could have sex after my diagnosis. But since I’ve been cleared, I’ve wanted to. I mean really wanted to. But now that I’ve been thinking about it, every time I try to initiate, Carter shuts me down. I’m scared he doesn’t find me attractive in that way.”

“Oh, come on girl, he’s crazy about you. Talk to him about how you are feeling. Maybe it’s something else.”

I nodded. “Thanks Connie.”

“Any time kid.”

I checked in with Dr. Coburn on my break, who once again assured me I could resume “physical activities”. So, I decided to follow Connie’s advice. I found Carter at admit on the phone. I snuck around behind him and slowly ran my hands up his shoulders before placing a quick kiss on his cheek. His head turned and caught me in a kiss. “Okay, thank you.” He said to the person on the other end before standing and hanging up the phone. “Hi.” He said to me with a smile.

“Hi.” I replied, grabbing his tie, and playing with it. “I haven’t seen you that much today. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Carter moved forward and put my hands around my waist, dropping his head to kiss me properly.

“I was thinking maybe tonight we could have a night in. I just got groceries. We could cook and relax. Maybe take a bath. Or maybe skip right to bed.” I bit my lip.

“Oh. Uh...... maybe.” Carter began to stutter and slightly move back.

“Carter I—”

“Hey, whose rig is that?” We both turned at the sound of Malucci’s, a new resident doctor’s, voice as he ran into the ER with another man. “Yo, Nancy, whose rig is that?” He exclaimed, slapping a hand down on the admit desk in front of Randi.”

“What are you screaming about?” She asked, annoyed.

“The paramedics who drive that rig, where are they?”

“I don’t know. Try the cafeteria. Why?”

“Hey Dave!” Carter yelled. “What’s going on?”

“Call 911. Construction-site accident, down the street.” Malucci yelled before taking off out the door.

“Well, hang on a second! Hold on!” Carter turned back to me. “I’ll be right back.” And with that, he turned and ran after Dave. I sighed and put my hands on my hips.

“Randi, did you—”

“Already on it.” She said, holding up the phone. I nodded my head and grabbed a patient chart, knowing I probably wouldn’t get another chance with him for a while.

I rubbed my bump as I felt a small flutter from the baby. Just recently, I had started to feel little flutters coming from my stomach, and after talking to Carol, I realized it was the first sign of movement. It didn’t happen all the time, but enough that I couldn’t wait to feel them actually kick. I smiled and returned to stocking the supply closet. As I reached up to a higher shelf, I felt two hands wrap around my middle and pull me back to flat feet.

“What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” I asked and turned to Carter. “I’m doing my job. But I hear you’re out playing paramedic. What was that about?”

Carter sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It was Dr. Dave. The man’s insane, playing ER cowboy.”

“Oh, come on. You know you liked it.”

Carter rolled his eyes, but smile. “Okay, maybe a little. But it got my ass chewed out by Weaver.”

I smiled and straightened his tie. “So, listen, you didn’t give me an answer about tonight.”

“Oh yeah. That.” Carter cleared his throat. “Evie I—”

“Dr. Carter.” We both turned, seeing Haleh standing in the doorway. “I need you in trauma.”

“I’ll be right there.” Haleh nodded and left. “I’ve got to—”

“We’ll talk later.” I finished, forcing a smile.

“Thanks.” Carter gave me a quick kiss before heading back, leaving me more frustrated than I was before my shift.

I finished the spaghetti as I heard the shower turn off in the bathroom. It took a few minutes, but Carter eventually joined me, having changed into a T-shirt and a pair of sweats. I was already eating as he sat down, our forks becoming the only sound in the apartment. After a couple bites, he finally sighed and put down the utensil.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I replied, taking a sip of water before going back to eating.

“There’s something wrong, Evie. I can tell. You’ve been acting weird since work.”

“It’s fine. It’s just a me thing, you don’t have to worry about it.” I grabbed my plate and stood, taking it over to the trash to clean up and then the sink.

“It’s about what you asked me today, right?”

“Just forget it, Carter. I understand.”

“No, you don’t.” He sighed and the chair squeaked as he stood and walked over to me. He wrapped his arms around my middle, holding my bump. “I’m scared.” I moved to turn, but he kept me in place, like if I was facing him, he wouldn’t say anything else. “I know Dr. Coburn cleared you, I know the hematoma is gone. But I’m worried that I could do something wrong and hurt you and the baby.”

“So, you do want to have sex with me?”

Carter scoffed and I felt him shake his head. “That’s what you got from that?”

“Carter, I feel like a hormonal teenager with how badly I want to jump you right now. I’m praying that’s what you meant.” He laughed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think you wanted to after everything. But now that I know how you feel, I wish I would have brought it up sooner.”

I smiled and turned this time, putting a hand on his chest. “Why don’t you finish your dinner while I get in the shower. We can get some sleep and talk about this in the morning.”

“Okay.”

I gave him a quick kiss before removing myself from his grasp and heading to the bathroom. I turned on the shower, letting the water warm up and steam begin to fill the space. I removed my clothes, but stopped when I got down to my bra and underwear. I looked in the mirror and smiled, running my hands over my bump. The curve of my stomach was prominent now even through my scrubs. Carol warned me that soon I would be getting people touching my stomach without asking. I couldn’t wait until my next appointment. We would be able to see the baby again and even find out the gender.

Getting rid of my underclothes, I stepped into the shower and sighed as the warm water began loosening the tense muscles in my shoulders. I closed my eyes, enjoying the feeling before slowly and carefully turning. I ran the water over my face for a moment, when I felt two arms snake around my middle and a chin rest on my shoulder. I gasped and tried turning my head, but Carter was already kissing my neck.

“I thought I told you to finish eating.”

“I wanted to be with you more.” He kissed my shoulder before I felt him stand to his full height. He turned me around and reached down, grabbing my shampoo bottle. He spent the next few minutes shampooing and then conditioning my hair, taking the time to massage my scalp and make sure I was clean. After rinsing my hair, he then grabbed my loofah and used my strawberry body wash to clean every inch of me, giving particular care to my breasts and my belly, kissing my bump several times before he let the suds ran over it. His touch was light and gentle as he worked, cherishing the time we had.

The water started to run cold, marking the end of our shower. He turned off the water and stepped out drying himself off, before wrapping the towel around his waist. He then grabbed another towel and dried me off before I wrapped it around me. We left the bathroom and went straight to the bedroom. Carter sat me down on the edge of the bed, taking my face in his hands. “Maybe we could start slow.”

“Slow how?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. He smiled at me before bending down to kiss me again. That’s when he peeled the towel off me.

My nipples beaked at the sudden change in temperature. Carter began trailing kisses down to my neck and shoulder as his hand cupped one of my breasts, pinching enough to cause a gasp. He sank down to his knees and took the other in his mouth, sucking and biting as my fingers hooked into his hair. “Oh my god.” I moaned before he released it with a pop.

Carter chuckled to himself as he picked up my leg and slung it over his shoulder. His lips then attached to my thigh, sucking little hickeys as he put his large, spread hand over my bump. He gently pushed, wanting me to lay down on the bed. I did so and he moved my other leg to the other shoulder. Now he was locked in.

He licked all the way up to my clit and my breath caught in my throat. He quickly set a rhythm, mixing between short and long strokes and sucking on my nerve. I did my best to prop up on my elbows, wanting to see him over my bump. His eyes met mine as he worked, and I could have melted away right then. He was focused and precise just like he was in the trauma room.

“Do you like that?” He groaned into me.

I nodded and he continued to work, focusing his mouth solely on my clit, when I felt two of his fingers push inside. The sound that left me was one of shock and my head fell back as his curled fingers hit my G-spot. “Fuck!” I exclaimed. The tightness in my belly began becoming unbearable. “Don’t stop!” And Carter just kept that pace, reading my face for indications of what was working. He must have got courageous, because a small bite to my clit sent me over the edge and I came all over his face.

I fell back on the bed, stars in my vision. I felt Carter pull my legs off of him and he stood, coming into my sightline, a cocky smile on his face. “How was that?”

“You call that slow?” I gasped, smiling wide. I hadn’t felt this blissed out in so long. Carter pulled me farther up onto the bed and took me in his arms, kissing me and stroking my back as I lay dazed. But I also knew I wanted to show him it wasn’t just about me. I wanted to be of service to him like he had taken care of me.

I pushed Carter over before straddling his hips, sitting up tall on top of him. He looked at me with a raised eyebrow, his hands cupping my bump before grabbing my waist. I leaned down and kissed him, long and passionate. He let out a low moan as I started grinding into him, the grip on my waist getting tighter. I sat up and smiled at him before getting off and moving down.

“What are you doing?” He asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

“You said you wanted to take it slow. That doesn’t mean I can’t repay the orgasm.”

I looked up at him as I slowly untucked the towel, which had somehow remained on during our activities. I took the base of his cock, which was now sticking straight up, in my hands before licking from where my hand was to the tip. “Oh fuck.” Carter groaned and fell back on the bed. I smirked, now the one in control.

I took him in my mouth, gently sucking on the head before swirling my tongue around it. A sigh left his lips as I took more of him. I used my hand on the part I couldn’t fit, moving it up and down in tandem with my mouth. His hand grabbed my still wet hair, his fingers locking in place at the base of my skull. I squeezed a little harder and his thighs twitched.

I moved my tongue again, and I must have done something right because a string of expletives and praise let his mouth. I smirked again before using my free hand to cup his balls, massaging them. His hips bucked and I couldn’t help but gag as he went back a little farther than I could take him. But I pulled him back and he didn’t even seem to notice.

“Evie, I’m gonna cum.” He tried to warn, pulling at my hair. But I stayed locked in place. “Evie.” He groaned and I felt him release down my throat. Once he was done, I swallowed and sat up. He pulled me to him and kissed me fiercely, his hand back to being tangled in my hair. My bump was pressed into his stomach, which was heaving with each deep breath as he tried to calm himself down. I smiled and laid down beside him, my hips starting to sting a little with the extra weight in my midsection.

“How was that?” I asked, cuddling into his side.

“Fucking incredible.” He gasped and wiped a hand down his face. “Didn’t know you could do that.”

“You do realize we’ve only had sex once, right? Haven’t had a chance to show you my skills.”

Carter turned his head and looked at me, before looking back at the ceiling. “Damn. My brain left my body for a second. I forgot.”

I started laughing and shook my head. Carter eventually got up and grabbed a wet towel, cleaning us both up. He threw on a pair of boxers and got me one of his T-Shirts before we laid back down in bed. It wasn’t long before Carter’s soft snores filled the air as I contently drifted off on his chest.

#er #john carter #john carter er #noah wyle #original character #dr john carter #john carter x female character #john truman carter #john truman carter iii #john carter x reader #er tv series #er nbc #er 1994 #er tv show

27 notes · View notes

gikairan · 2 years ago

Text

Royal Mail is really doing everything to make me lose my faith in them, istg......

#i order something on amazon (only place to get it). They give it to royal mail #it takes 2 days longer than the amazon estimate #THATS HAPPENED TO ME TWICE NOW #i was supposed to have something delivered today.... its not here #the package last year that they just totally lost for like 4 whole months and then suddenly delivered one day like nothing happened #like cool i guess i just scammed a small business out of £200 because you didnt bother to just LOOK for it #despite me asking for like... a whole month. To just. LOOK. for it #and today i think they just sent a package back to spain after 3 days of it being in the UK and just... not told me why #theres no update on the tracking to say its being RTSed #it just scanned in Spain 3 days after it scanned in the UK (for the only time) and now Spain post have delivered it somewhere #i feel so embarrassed about potentially having to get hold of the seller like 'uhh did this get RTSed to you?'#'because the UK postal service did not think to update the tracking to say it was going BACK to Spain and WHY (:'#can we buy this company back please? Put it back in public ownership #the pursuit of profit has ruined royal mail (:

1 note · View note

strohller27 · 3 months ago

Text

#okay. so. the problem. with independent contract work?#is that. if everything is overwhelming. I can’t just. show up. do a job. and leave knowing I'll still be paid.#Nope. with this work? If I can’t make any money because I’m paralysed by being overwhelmed? Welp that’s All My Fault^TM #if I can’t make myself go find the clients and ask them very nicely for money?? then I get nothing!!#and that ~*must*~ mean that I ~*~*do not want it badly enough*~*~ /s #look. with independent contractor work it takes a lot of extra work just for the *opportunity* to make money #whereas with my normal regular job (THAT MY BOSS STILL WANTS ME TO HAVE BY THE WAY) I can just. show up.#make sure I do enough. and go home knowing that I’ll still make enough money to at least afford my rent. even if I can’t give it 110%#But now I can't. & so. you know what I was doing this month?#I started it by *barely* being able to afford rent (which I would not have been able to do without the help of some very kind people)#(so HUGE shoutout to the people who helped me out! in these quiet tags)#& then I nearly ran out of groceries. I’ve been rationing everything I have in the house & going to the food bank #I even went on the local buy nothing group and basically begged for people’s expired food #and I’ve also had to try to figure out how to pass an insurance exam on 14 days worth of honestly *terrible* information #(and I SOMEHOW passed despite the course NOT EVEN COVERING certain information that was on the exam!!)#and when I passed the exam they sent me a contract that basically says ‘yay congrats now you have the right to work (by yourself) for us!#‘no guarantee you’ll be paid tho! if you want money you’re gonna have to fucking EARN it yourself bitch! good luck!’#and I got a tutoring job that’s basically the same idea. the contract is like ‘congratulations you can now use our resources!#But if you don’t put in extra work (that you won’t be compensated for) looking for people to ask for money then you can’t have any!’#Like. I'm sorry. I used up all my ‘begging people for resources’ energy asking for people’s expired groceries #and I feel like maybe half of people only gave me groceries because they think I’m from Ukraine #which makes me feel a SPECIAL KIND OF WRETCHED (like I’m stealing groceries from people who need them more!!)#I’ve spent this whole month hungry lonely overwhelmed and just generally terrified #I have to constantly fight SO hard not to lay down on the floor and just give up #the only thing I feel motivated to do is draw art because at least that’s making me feel connected to others & like what I do matters #I did finish my goals for the day and that’s good. so I don’t want to say I feel guilty for making art. because I don’t!!#But there's a pretty loud voice in my head that's saying 'well if you have energy to make art. you should have energy to go get clients!'#You know what little voice in my head? you can FUCK RIGHT OFF because making art is very low effort comparatively #you know what's *not* low-effort? working really hard for the *potential* to earn & then not being guaranteed it'll even get you anywhere #& moving into the last two weeks of a month. where you have loan payments & rent due soon & no money. & no energy to go earn it.

3 notes · View notes

saaltskies · 5 months ago

Text

i was gonna share my xenoblade thoughts the next day because i was full of them but very tired however it is the next day and i forgot how to thought

#dang 😔#i can try though ig #uhh spoilers below #ok first music very good #i have not done so yet but i like to sit down and listen to the whole soundtrack after finishing a game for the first time and i am looking #forward to that very much #anyways i love stories about death #heck yeah death and fear of change and regret and insecurity and hope and also flutes #the ending with the final boss in stuff was kinda giving me pmd vibes specifically gates and super #i love pmd so this is a very good thing #also i love when villains have some connection to theatre #the n and m thing was wack #like omg a guy named n oh huh he kinda looks like noah take off ur mask dude lemme see omg it is noah!! wow evil version of main character #wait is that mio #oh snap he isnt a version of me im a version of him born from his regret and the hope that he completely lost #very cool!#after the execution stuff and i added valdi back into my party because didnt have a hero in that because ghondor joined as my hero for a bit #and then left and i put him back in and i was like hey bestie how was ur day yeah mine was pretty good i just got locked up for a month and #just sitting there full of dread and anger and sadness as the clock was ticking towards death for the girl i love and i couldnt even be near #her during this and there was no hope of escape and then we were forced to watch her fade away before getting executed and i stood over my #body and looked down on it and i was taken to a place where i saw all my past lives and how me and the girl i love fell in love each time #but i always lost her until finally i did some horrific stuff and forced her into immortality with me never asking if she wanted this #because i stopped thinking of her as a person and more like a precious possession i need to keep in my grasp and our regret was so powerful #that we were born again through hope despite our other selves still living and then i decided to try again and the other mio stopped the #other me from killing me and plot twist they body swapped and the other mio died and the mio i know lived on with the other mios body and #then the other me got a lil too silly so we beat him up #so yeah my day was pretty good how was yours #like okay!!!!!!!!#great!!!!!!#ok i reached max tags bye

2 notes · View notes

foldingfittedsheets · 1 year ago

Text

Mattresses, unbeknownst to many, are a lot like cars. Every year new ones roll out, they’re always tweaking and innovating and you’ll never find the same one you loved decades ago when buying a new one.

Where I sold mattresses had a three month return or exchange program for this reason. New beds take a while to break in, and they’re a big expense. Your body is used to the old one. So we made sure people were loving it. If a bed got returned we’d take it back, sanitize and clean it, then sell it again on clearance.

To sell these we always had to disclose what clearance meant to customers, and they had to sign that they knew what they were getting. (FYI, not every company is as… forthright about the used bed situation)

In clearance we had beds that were floor models, we had returns, and more rarely we had old models whose line had been discontinued. These clearance beds were always final sale, so a bed could only be sold twice.

Now, the manager at the store I was working at had realized a vital fact. Clearance beds in the warehouse didn’t sell, especially old models that salespeople weren’t familiar with. And even more especially in odd sizes, like twin extra longs. So he set up a split king on the showroom floor to exhibit clearance beds, pulling all those forgotten twin extra longs out onto the showroom.

Almost all of these were brand new discontinued models. Beds I’d never learned in training were exhumed to be displayed. The manufacturers had moved on to new lines and they’d been left behind. Why would he take such in interest in selling old stock, you might wonder? Because we made double commission on the sales margin of clearance beds, and if we’d had a bed long enough they dropped the cost in the system so it was a fucking cash cow to sell these. Even with huge discounts the commissions were wonderful so it was a win win.

When I got started I was jazzed about this program, I was so on board to sell weird old brand new beds and make a ton of money. I had a wonderful older couple come in, looking for a split king adjustable set. This was a white whale sale.

The current clearance models on the floor were a latex mattress that was brand new despite being of an age to start first grade, and a tempurpedic floor model. The couple laid down and it was like magic. They each loved the bed they’d laid down on. They wanted to buy the whole shebang.

I. Was. Thrilled. I told them about the clearance program and what that meant, and they weren’t bothered in the least. I wrote up the sale then dashed into the back, fizzing with excitement to tell my manager what I’d done.

“You sold the death bed?!” He asked in delight.

I pulled up short, my smile freezing in place. “What…?”

“Didn’t you check the notes?”

I hesitated for a long beat then slowly shook my head. You see, dear reader, all beds had a personal history. Every clearance bed had logs written up by the person who took the return, as well as warehouse crew after sanitizing. It helped us know what to expect when selling them. “Wasn’t it just a floor model? You said it was a floor model…”

He slowly shook his head. I checked the notes.

It turned out, it had been sold as a floor model. The first time. But the company had made an exception and taken it back as a return two months later. Why? Because it’s owner had passed away.

I stared at the computer in horror and my manager shrugged. “They signed the clearance form. Technically it was a floor model.”

“We know for a fact that a man died in that bed!”

“What they don’t know can’t haunt them,” he said philosophically.

The man came back a week later for more sheets, utterly delighted to tell me how well they were sleeping. I clamped my teeth down around the secret of the deathbed, choosing to let them love their new bed without the stigma. Only one person would be haunted by that deathbed, and it was me.

#ramblies #ffs foibles #that sale was over ten thousand dollars #and I made a thousand dollars in that one sale #I cried about it later because I couldn’t even conceive of making that much money #story #writing #funny

29K notes · View notes

intromortal · 1 month ago

Text

ꕥ NICE N' FULL ⸝⸝⸝ six different scenarios in which the enhypen members breed the fuck out of you !

⚠︎ smut. mdni. breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, p in v, dirty talking, pet names, more warnings listed for each member. total wc 4k. ⸻ rules ⋆ m.list

✷ NIA — not exactly what bae @vampsol asked for bc i went a little au-ish here :p but it's me so what did we expect. shoutout to my goat @karinasbaby for sharing a braincell with me and helping me w the ideas <3

ꕥ LEE HEESEUNG

arranged marriage, it's okay they're starting to be obsessed with each other, slight somno, oral (f. rec), cum eating

If you were to tell anyone Heeseung didn't as much as look you in the eyes about two months ago, they'd never believe you. Not if the way he's clinging to your lower half before he even opens his eyes fully is anything to go by. Still naked in bed, the wet sheets clinging to your bodies the only thing shielding you from the cool dawn air.

Marriages of convenience are rarely easy, especially for spirits as free as Heeseung, and he's made it clear to you how much he'd rather have married anyone else instead. They also come with burdensome expectations of heirs way too soon for his liking. Yet, something about your devotion to him in your most intimate moments despite your general indifference and coldness towards each other, brought the cold and hard as steel man down to his knees, a puddle of mush at your feet ready to fulfill any request.

"Hee," you mutter softly against your pillow as he parts your legs to make space for himself, and Heeseung's heart soars. A month ago it would've been 'Heeseung' or 'husband' with that venomous tone you seemed to only reserve for him, like his spot in your life was only a joke. It's different now, you're tender with him.

"Shh, pretty. Just lay here for me like this." It's still early, and Heeseung can barely see, but he wants the first thing he looks at in the morning to be your pretty hole, raw and sore from all the previous fucking, still gush his seed out. He parts your folds slowly, careful not to hurt you, and watches as his milky cum greets him, pouring out of you. It's a sight for sore eyes, and one he knows he will never get enough of. Even when he'll manage to put a child in you, he knows this is something he won't be able to let go of.

You shift, now more aware of your surroundings, but Hee is quick to keep you still. Your hand underneath your stomach faintly tingles because of its weird position, but it all fades in the background when Heeseung grabs your ass and spreads it, moving lap at where his cum is gushing out of you.

You're still sensitive from the night you spent together, but his touch is feather light and you don't really know if you want him to stop or you want more. He moans at the mixture of your tastes, pushing his tongue deeper inside your cunt like he's trying to clean you, switching so soft kisses on your lips once he's satisfied.

He makes his way up to your face, littering your bottom and spine in kisses and playful nibbles, relishing in the little sounds you make in response. Your front is still pressed to the mattress, and not seeing him almost makes you believe this is not the Heeseung that was shooting you sharp glares throughout the entire wedding ceremony. His touch is warmer, so much more delicate than the way he held your end that first night. His kisses are slow and deliberate, not empty and forced anymore. It's like soul has find its way back into Heeseung's being, after months of being a cold slate. The change started out slowly, but now you're here, and you genuinely feel like you could really love this man. Maybe a part of you does already.

His voice is the same, but the tone makes him sound like a whole different person, the forever present irritation is gone, only a playful tilt to it left as he finally reaches your ear to whisper in it. "Slipped out while sleeping, all of our hard work gone… such a pity." Heeseung aligns his cock to your weeping cunt, rubbing his head a few times along your folds, then carefully pushes in. "We have to do it all over again."

He's gentle, showering you in soft praises, and his thrusts are even slower. You've never known anything other than fucking, but you think this is what lovemaking feels like.

"So good, baby. You'll be such a good mom, you've been so patient with me even when i didn't deserve it. You'll be wonderful," he whispers in your ear, raising goosebumps all over your skin at just how sweet he sounds. "You are wonderful. You're perfect."

ꕥ PARK JONGSEONG

husband!jay, semi-public, bulge kink, he's insatiable

What better way to spend your honeymoon trip if not by getting filled over and over again by your dear, newlywed husband?

You can't think of any, but maybe that's also because you can't really think about anything that's not the delicious drag of Jay's cock against your walls. So deep inside you, pushing more even when his balls are already flush to your skin. Like he can't get enough, like he could break any barrier and mold into you as one if he really put his mind to it. He needs more, you both do.

But one thing's for sure, he's giving you his all.

"So fucking good, my wife has the best pussy. So perfect for me," he pants hotly in your ear, his large warm hand cupping your breast and separating it from the frigid glass your front is pushed against. The view from your suite is breathtaking, emphasized by the huge transparent wall, right beside the queen sized bed. At the moment though, you're not really focused on it. Nor is Jay, too busy gawking at your beautiful figure caged between his chest and the glass. He could stare at you forever. "I'm gonna stuff you full, baby. Gonna fuck you so good all trip, there's no way you won't be pregnant by the end."

You believe it, because all he's done ever since you undid your luggage in the middle of the room once you arrived to your destination is pump you full of his cum, all day, all night. And then all over again. Only stopping to get you food. You aren't safe from him when showering, even worse when taking a bath, definitely not when you're lounging around the natural pool close to your suite. It's not his fault you look so good in the bathing suits you packed and the ones he picked out for you. Jay has always had good stamina, but ever since the wedding he's been downright feral.

His thrusts are slow, but intense, like he's trying to drag the pleasure out as long as he can, savoring the way his tip nudges just the right stop that has you mewling in his hold every single time. His breath is warm against your neck and so are his grunts of pleasure, your favorite sound in the whole world.

Jay twists your sensitive and sore nipples between his fingers, only smiling into your neck when you reward him with the cutest mewls he's ever heard in his life. "Fuck, baby. I'm the luckiest man alive. I can't believe you're mine forever."

"You too," you whine in response.

"Yes baby, I'm all yours, forever. I love you much."

"Love you too," you sob, throwing your head back into his shoulder, completely overtaken by the pleasure he's giving you, allowing him more access to lick and suck on your sensitive neck.

"I know, baby. I know. You're doing so good, just a little more. My sweet girl, you'll be such a good mom. Can't wait to make you one. We'll have so many, so many cute kids running around. Doesn't that sound like a dream? Fuck, I can't wait."

The hand still playing with your tits slides down to your stomach, pushing down on it until Jay can feel his own cock thrusting into you. "Right here, you're gonna carry our baby here." He keeps fucking into you slowly, deliberately, so different from the speed of the circles he draws on your clit with the fingers that were soothing your hip just moments before. He drags out his own pleasure, but needs to give you so much more. "Come on my cock baby, milk it dry. We have so much more work to do."

ꕥ SIM JAEYUN

fwb!jake but he has feelings, he's down bad and a little subby in this one, dub-con (for jake), slight blood play (just his lip)

This is a series of mistakes. It's all Jake seems to be doing as of lately.

First of all, he's not even supposed to be in your bed again, the fourth time this week. Not when he finally came to terms with the fact that he has developed a raging crush on you and cannot keep his feelings at bay any longer, even when you two agreed this whole arrangement will only be sex and nothing else.

But he can't help it when you're so fucking addicting. You not liking him back is gonna break his heart, but at least he gets to fuck you, at least he gets a little piece of you, even if it's not exactly the one he wants.

Secondly, he should've refused to fuck you raw for the first time the moment you asked, even if the thought alone had his eyes crossing and rolling all the way to the back of his skull. But he's a weak man, for you especially, and he simply couldn't resist the temptation, not when you looked up at him with your big glossy eyes and with such a cute pout on your lip.

So here he is now, fucking you raw like his life is on the line, trying his hardest not to spill inside you too soon because if he does he might just die from embarrassment.

All he does, all he's ever done, is with the purpose of impressing you. It's like you have him chained up to this invisible leash he didn't even notice you put on him, and now it's too late to take it off. Jake means it when he says he would do anything for you.

His thrusts are shallow and quick, he's fucking you mostly with his tip, and you don't think you've ever seen him so worked up. It makes you feel things you didn't even know you needed. You like the feeling.

"You're so cute like this, Jakey," you giggle into the messy open mouthed kiss he's drowning you in, your fingers ghosting on the muscles of his back while his tremble on your waist. "Fuck me deeper, I want to feel all of you."

Jake's hips still for a second as he bites down on his bottom lip so hard he draws blood, but you don't mind at all. You even lick it clean, sighing dreamily at the iron taste overtaking your senses. Jake's eyes screw shut, and he's so close to cumming his eyes start to water. This is simultaneously the best and worst thing that has ever happened to him, and thinking that this might very well be the last time only makes his eyes wetter.

"I—fuck. I can't. I'll cum too soon."

"That's okay, we can go again," you say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and a little piece of Jake's heart breaks. He doesn't know how much more of this he can take.

You sense his hesitation and wrap your legs around his hips, pushing them closer to your pelvis so his length fully sheaths inside you. It's so warm and big and throbbing to release his cum in you and there's not a single thing you want more. "Fill me up, Jakey. Claim me," you whisper in his ear. "Why don't you show everyone I belong to you?"

Jake resumes his movements, tentatively at first but steadily building a pace that feels good, his thrusts are deeper now, needier, and even if he were to try to pull out, you'd keep him right there. "I want to. I want you fully, fuck— please be mine," he sobs into the valley of your breasts, voice muffled as he licks and nips at your skin.

"Go on. Make me yours then. Show me how bad you want me."

And he does because fuck, he's weak. He's so fucking weak for you and he wouldn't have it any other way.

ꕥ PARK SUNGHOON

coworker!hoon, secret relationship, semi-public, degradation, jealousy, mentions of marriage

Something about the way Sunghoon's thick eyebrows were furrowed from the second he walked into the job that morning, or how his jaw clenched as he gritted his teeth whenever any of your colleagues as much as opened their mouths to say something, should've been your cue to behave for the day.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, he happens to look so damn hot when he's pissed.

And he's so filthy when he's jealous, pushing his buttons becomes your favorite challenge in times like these.

"Eyeing Jake all day like you want to bring him to the back and fuck him, are you not ashamed?" he spits, voice an octave lower than usual and barely slipping through his gritted teeth. "Bending over in front of him, touching him when you know I can see you. Do I have to mark you up for you to fucking behave for once?"

The roughness in his voice makes your eyes wet but your panties wetter, he doesn't bother to undress you, you don't have time for it anyway. You're just a few steps away from the lounge bar where some of your coworkers are surely taking a break right now. Anyone could walk in at any time, and maybe Sunghoon wishes for that to happen.

Instead Sunghoon just flips your skirt up and pushes your panties to the side, immediately rubbing his angry red tip on your folds to coat them in your own juices. He feels so incredibly hard against you, and that's how you know he must've been hiding a boner this entire time. As much as he loves to pretend he doesn't, it's little cues like this that let you know just how much he enjoys putting you back in your place. "Of course you're soaked." He barks a laugh devoid of humor but full of disdain.

"If it's my attention you want," he whispers more softly, and the switch in his attitude sends shivers down your spine, something that doesn't go unnoticed by Sunghoon, his lips curling into a smirk. "I'll give it to you. I'll give you so much of it you won't ever think about disrespecting me again."

He pushes his girth into you fully in one thrust, his rough fingers finding your clit within seconds, not even giving you enough time to savor the pleasurable sting that comes from his cock stretching you out so nicely. He grabs your jaw in his other hand, his smirk not turned into a snarl. "You'll cum, and you'll cum hard enough to milk all of me. You'll keep cumming around my cock no matter how much it hurts, until I fill you up. Is that clear?"

You would nod if you could, but his grip is too strong, so you do what you can: just stand there as he subjects you to anything his heart desires. He doesn't move his hips, doesn't give you that satisfaction, only rubs his fingers on your tiny bundle of nerves so hard it almost hurts, but you'd never ask him to stop it.

"You'll take all of my cum, until your belly is swollen by how much of it I fuck into you. I'll put a baby in you so no one else will ever mistake you for anything other than mine."

You clench around him, time and time again, just like he wants you to. Sunghoon has you under a spell, and the more he talks, the more he flicks your clit, the less you think about what's rational and what's not. You only know what he tells you, and to you that's the only truth you need to hear.

"I'll put a ring on your finger, make you my pretty little wife. Maybe even make you stop coming in, I'll take care of everything. Yeah, keep milking me like that, baby. Let me make you a mommy."

ꕥ KIM SUNOO

ewb, hate sex, degradation, marking, one singular 'slut', condom comes off!

"You're—mhh, such a bad fuck," you say over your shoulder, wanting to see Sunoo's reaction despite the uncomfortable position. You're lying through your teeth, of course. You know how much saying things like this riles Sunoo up, and the only times you feel anything akin to like towards him is when he's rough with you. It's why despite the mutual hatred that makes up the entirety of your relationship, you two keep finding yourselves skin to skin, tangled in bed sheets. You always thought you needed someone to fuck you like they hate you, turns out, what you really craved was someone to fuck you because they hate you. And the right man for the job is right behind you, thrusting into you like he wants to hurt you, his hands leaving bruises on your hips like it's their right to do so.

"Then why are you here, wetting my cock like no one's fucked you in years?" His moves are relentless, and you have to try your best to not collapse on the bed because of the sheer force behind every stroke. Your legs are shaking, but you hang on a thread just to not give him that satisfaction. Instead, you push him further.

"That guy from—mph, yesterday. He'd—" you gasp as he gives you a harsher thrust, so deep you're sure you can feel it in your guts. The angle he starts fucking you in knocks the air out of your lungs in the best way possible, and even if you're trembling under Sunoo's weight and clawing at the cotton fabric next to you, you refuse to back down. "He'd do a better job."

You don't need to see his face, you hear the smirk in his voice, and it's the kind that sends a shiver down your spine each time. "But you're here." Another sharp thrust. "You don't even remember his name."

"At least he las– lasted while fucking me raw." You feel him halt all movement, and you know this is enough to get what you want from him, but you just can't help it. "You could never."

"You're such a little fox, aren't you?" He speaks calmly, but you can feel the storm brewing under the facade. He drags his fingertips across your spine, barely touching you at all. It's embarrassing how that's enough to have you bend under his touch. He reaches the plush of your ass, grabbing a fistful of it so forcefully you can feel his nails break the skin. He doesn't stop when you complain, doesn't care for your pained moans. "You think you're so smart, but you're just a little slut. You want me to fuck you raw?"

You try to shake your head to deny it, but he knows better.

"Yes you do. Say it." His grip on your ass only gets stronger, and tears line your bottom lashes.

"I do," you whine, finally. "Please."

"Good." Sunoo releases the death grip on your skin, soothing over the red spot with his thumb lightly, like it's not him performing the action. The Sunoo you know has no time for care. "Then take the condom off of me."

Your head snaps back at his words, but he makes no sign of moving. So you do what he says, this once. You reach for this length, then carefully slide the rubber off of it. And right when he thinks you're finally behaving, you squeeze his cock so hard his hips stutter forward and you actually manage to steal a surprised yelp out of him.

Sunoo's reaction is immediate. He grabs both of your hands, uncaring for the way your elbows are uncomfortably bent, and brings your wrists together behind your back. He slides into you again in one swift motion, not giving you even a second to savor the feeling of his bare cock pushing into your heat for the first time. All of your nerves feel on fire, and as he sets a breakneck pace while keeping you down and unable to move.

"Do I have to fuck a baby into you for you to finally behave?" He gasps when you squeeze him in response to his words. "You'd like that yeah? You'd love for the man you hate to get you pregnant? Is that gonna make you shut the fuck up for once? Oh, I bet it will."

ꕥ YANG JUNGWON

fiancé!won, they're obsessed your honor, love on the floor

"You can't wait to get me pregnant, but what will you do when you won't be able to suck on my tits for months, mhh?" You giggle on Jungwon's lap, right in the middle of the empty room.

The new house still smells like new houses usually do, dry and woody, like the windows are never open. There's no furniture yet, but it doesn't stop your heart from pounding in your chest as you look around. Your home.

Jungwon's eyes never leave you though, and when you look back at him and find him smiling at you like you hold the world in your palm, you know you would be happy with every house, no matter the size or appearance, as long as he's the one you share it with.

"What makes you think that's gonna stop me?" Your fiance replies, shaking his head to move the bangs out of his eyes. "I'll even get something more out if it."

"Won!" you exclaim, hiding your face in your hands. Your heart melts a bit when you hear that familiar boyish giggle leave him, light as air, and for once in your life you feel like you've found the right spot in the world.

The warmth you feel spreads further as Jungwon starts caressing your bare thighs, until he's gripping your ass, using it as leverage to push you on his crotch.

You gasp at the feeling, and your hands find their rightful place on his broad shoulders so you can keep yourself steady as he starts to roll your hips against his.

"Won… we shouldn't—"

He shuts you up with a soft peck, resting his forehead against yours. "Why not? It's our place. We worked so hard for it, we should celebrate."

You bite your bottom lip as you think about it, but Won doesn't waste a minute and flips both of you over so you're caged between the floor and his chest. He nibbles on your ear, knowing better than anyone else how weak it makes you when he does that. "I'll make you feel so good, doll." It's like he's put a spell on you because you nod before he even manages to finish his sentence. "Just lay back and let me do all the work."

Your clothes are soon discarded everywhere around you, and your legs are wrapped around his hips as he fucks into you like he never has before. You're both a sweaty mess, panting in each other's mouths, exchanging spit any chance you get.

"Your pussy was made for me, doll. You're sucking me in so well." Jungwon moans against your lips, and you watch enamored as his eyes shut close and his eyebrows furrow, a droplet of sweat running down from his hairline. "Can't wait to take you on every surface of this house. Fuck— just leave it to me, baby. I have so many surprises for you."

"I'm so close, please," you whine, sliding a hand down his back to push his hips into you further. It makes Jungwon's pace faster, more desperate to give you exactly what you need.

"Let go, baby. Come all over my dick— yeah, just like that. You're taking me so fucking well. Such a perfect doll for me." His praise goes straight to your cunt, and you squeeze him impossibly hard as wakes of pleasure rack through your body.

"My perfect angel, you're gonna look so good swollen with our baby. Am gonna give you all of my cum, just a little more. We'll have so many kids running around the house we built. Our home forever," Jungwon babbles in your ear, and you're so fucked out you can even barely make out what he's telling you. You just know you need him to fuck you full, over and over.

His hips never stutter, despite how drenched and slippery everything is by now, a puddle of wetness pooling underneath you on the hard floor, getting bigger and bigger the more Jungwon fucks you, and you suspect the floor won't be the only surface you'll wet that day.

#✷ mortal works #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #jay smut #jay x reader #jake smut #jake x reader #sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #sunoo smut #sunoo x reader #jungwon smut #jungwon x reader #jongseong smut #jongseong x reader #jaeyun x reader #jaeyun smut

5K notes · View notes

madamechrissy · 3 months ago

Text

Just Friends!?

-Art in the banner from nek0zuu_ on X-

Pairings- Former Nerd! Gojo and popular F! reader

Summary - Satoru Gojo was the biggest nerd EVER in high school with you, next door neighbors, study buddies, you were the best friends in the world. Never having the courage to ask you -the 'popular girl' out- you never knew he felt for you. He ended up leaving town, moving to the big city of LA- getting famous with a modeling career, and lost touch with everyone from his old life. While you're working the family pub to help out your parents, years later, he finally comes back to visit, just to have you making his drink. Everything about him is different, aside from those pretty blue eyes and the sweet grin. You feel he's so accomplished now, and you're just a small town girl, but little do you know, you've never left his mind.

Warnings - Will be explicit and smutty (it's me!?) Nerdjo turned famous and cocky, but he's still just a Nerdjo deep down hehe- his chap, mentions of sex/getting turned on, Gojo being an ass tbh, welcome back Jock Sukuna and say hi to bitchy model Samantha lol, some angst and mutual pining, lots of feelings

Based HEAVILY on the 2005 Rom com Just Friends - part of my amazinggg moot @indiewritesxoxo's Friday night flicks! 🌙

<<<Part One - Playlist - Masterlist - Part Three>>>

Part Two

Your POV

It was odd, being back in your hometown after years of living on your own, but when your family needed help with their bar, and with student loans piling up - teaching did not pay very well - you couldn’t help but come back home for a bit. The shifts at the hometown bar helped, and staying with your parents for just a few months was definitely a life saver.

It’s not exactly where you saw yourself, teaching lay offs all over, now you have a preschool class here and you love it, but it’s definitely not enough to cover everything. You feel so… just upset, that you’re back here at your first job, grabbing beers for familiar faces, people who never left their hometown, and some that have, but came back like you did.

Despite it being Spring, it was freezing where you lived, some cold spurt that brought on snow in March, so many of the town were curling up by the roaring fire, bundled up laughing and drinking to stay warm. The bar had quite a cozy atmosphere, it reminded you of home, truly, you grew up here, from bussing tables and cleaning to serving drinks.

“Hey love, you look amazing.” You see Suguru and Shoko then, Shoko has a cigarette between her fingers, a familiar smile that makes you beam, as you come out from behind the bar, hugging them both.

“I missed you two oh goodness!” You receive a kiss on each cheek from them, as you hug them together.

“We heard you were back in town, how have you been?” Suguru asks softly, you sigh a bit, peering up at the tall man.

“I can’t believe I’m back here. Layoffs.” They frown then. “I heard you all run a whole dentist office!?”

“Sugu is a hot dentist.” Shoko teases, and he smirks a bit.

“Shoko runs the clinic attached to it. She outranks me.”

“Always.” You laugh with the two of them, hands on their shoulders now.

“I’m so proud of you two, what? Doctors, I can't believe that.”

“Hey now, teaching is important.” Shoko brushes your hair back softly, earning your flushed cheeks at her praise.

“They definitely don’t make enough.” Suguru says, earning your sigh.

“You’re telling me. Let me get you all drinks!” You eagerly bounce back, mixing them up drinks, Shoko loves a lemon drop from what you remember, and Suguru always enjoyed a rum and coke.

“You remember!” Shoko winks as you hand her the pretty drink, garnishing it with a little lemon swirl and grinning. The noise of the bar fills your ears, as you lean across the polished bar table, glinting under the soft lights overhead.

“Of course I remember. Gosh, it’s been four years since I’ve seen you all I think.” You all start catching up, but of course it starts to get busier, and you begin to take care of all the customers as Suguru and Shoko start tossing darts at the black and red circled board.

You smile at them, they’d always been the perfect couple, making that longing fill you too much. You fully expected to be married with kids by now, sure it was quite a homey little dream, that white picket fence, maybe two kids and some cute golden retriever, but that’s what you always dreamed of. Unfortunately, your bad taste and men did not end in high school.

“Speak of the devil…” You murmur nervously, when you see him, Ryomen Sukuna looking just as good if not better than high school, he still wears his damn letterman’s jacket from college, where he’d become an all star player, you hear now he’s even going pro.

What’s he doing back home?

He grins over now, red eyes sharp as ever, and you fully anticipate him bothering you, saying something pervy, as he walks across the crowded bar, stopping to talk to almost everyone, he was quite a name here. The only person more famous from your little town - there is a population of fourteen thousand and perhaps four stop lights- was Satoru Gojo.

You’d seen him on the damn cat walk, recently he was on the cover of Vogue, him and some other really famous model, this little smirk on his face that just doesn’t fit the boy you knew. If you thought he was cut before, his body was damn near godly, so perfect it was intimidating, and he’d only gotten prettier, not that Satoru wasn’t always so pretty.

He just didn’t know it then.

You think of him sometimes, hurt initially back when summer break hit after high school, and he refused all your calls, he refused to see or talk to anyone when you all lived so fucking close. You tried everything you could, feeling awful because it was your party and you didn’t know, could you have done more? Could you have shoved everyone out?

You were fully planning to if he’d just given you a moment. Your yearbook to this day is something you cherish, and reading his sweet words over and over, he’d taken over an entire page, with words of love you’ve never felt before. But to say it was all ‘a joke’ and leaving, never accepting a friend request, shit he didn’t even talk to Suguru or Shoko, his other best friends.

Satoru never spoke of his hometown in interviews, and when you saw his mom recently, you learned he’s never come home. You know things were hard on him, brutal even, but you wish he knew just how much you loved him, cared for him, sure it was more of a beautiful friendship, but you also were attracted to him, though you were scared to ruin that friendship.

If he just gave you a damn moment.

A friendship you built your entire life demolished, and you miss him even now, you miss the quiet mornings you two would study at the library, you miss the cup of coffee he’d have for you every morning. You missed the little sleepovers, playing pokemon games together, battling it out on the Wii, the amount of things the two of you shared, gone in a moment.

Sukuna leans across the bar, shaking you out of your reverie, his familiar, arrogant smirk just a little softer as his ruby eyes drape down your body, you’re just in some jeans and a polo, nothing too sexy for the family bar here. But he seems to take pleasure in every slow inch, murmuring your name.

“Look at you, even hotter than high school, shit.” You heat up a bit under his gaze, tilting your head and running your hand across your neck.

“Thank you, Sukuna. You look good too.” You earn his wide grin, as he swipes a hand through his pink hair, snowflakes melting just a bit as he leans his hip against the bar now.

“I’ve wondered how you were doing, aren’t you a teacher?”

“I am, but… layoffs.” Sukuna frowns a bit. “I’m teaching preschool here for now, but it’s…”

“They don’t pay shit.” On this, everyone agrees,

“Mmhmm, but it’s my passion. So here I am, working the student loans off.” You wink at him, and he softens then, resting his elbow on the bar, a hand in his chin.

“So pretty you shouldn’t be working.”

“Oh… no. Not at all.” You clear your throat, something is so different about him, he’s not the asshole you remember, or so it seems. “But just temporary, I’m finishing up a couple classes to teach higher education.”

“You always were smart, you’ll do well.”

“Oh… thank you, Sukuna.”

“Used to call me Kuna you know.” You giggle now, easing a bit, even under his gaze, which keeps darting down your body. “God you haven’t changed a bit.”

“Say that to the freshman fifteen that never left.” Sukuna chuckles then, when you turn and bend over, grabbing a beer.

“Went to your nice ass-”

“Sukuna!” You glare behind yourself, and he’s chuckling. “Here I was thinking you were all sweet.”

“I am sweet, thank you. Shit I’d love to catch up sometime?” You hand him his beer, sighing then.

“I don’t know…”

“Lunch or something?”

Satoru’s POV

Satoru’s stepping into the bustling bar with the most annoying model ever, cock hungry too, who’s clinging to his arm, looking at the little bar in disgust, while he eyes the familiar surroundings. He scoffs as he sees Sukuna’s letterman jacket, so pretentious really, and eyes everyone around, surely… your parents still run this place, he wonders, do you ever come visit?

“It’s so… quaint.” Comes Samantha’s voice next to him, running her fingers along the dusty bar, grimacing, she’s as tall as Satoru in her heels, perhaps one of the few women who he doesn’t tower over. All models were pretty tall, but typically he still had a couple inches, but Samantha was the best in her field, and maybe longer legs than Satoru Gojo himself.

“Yeah, I guess compared to LA.” He murmurs, the surroundings oddly comforting, despite how much he thought he’d hate it here. Something about shivering in the cold and then coming to this warm, bustling bar was…

Homey.

It gnaws at him, as people recognize him, and they begin to all come up, many who used to pick on him. He clings to that pretty model of his tighter, putting on a bright grin and lowering his black Gucci shades, the two of them are decked out in Saint Laurent and looking like a million bucks. Even in public, you had to make sure you were dressed to kill.

“Holy shit…” Satoru sees Suguru and Shoko then, their mouths drop as they come up to him. He's spoken to them a little here and there, but overwhelmingly has not said much since college was over. “Look at you two!”

“Look at you, all preening like a peacock.” Shoko rolls her dark eyes, sipping on a drink as she assesses him and his ‘girl’ who is clinging to him, laughing far too fake to ever be taken for as genuine, grating on his nerves.

“How cute, townies!” Samantha says, tossing blonde hair back, and Satoru scowls over at her.

“Who’s the snob?” Suguru asks boldly, making her gasp as Satoru’s muffling his laughter.

“Be nice.” Satoru warns, hands in the pockets of his red dress pants, a ruby so bright and bold it’s ridiculous for a place where people wear jeans and flannels.

“They’re not nice, Gojo. I don’t like it here!” She’s stomping her feet, and Satoru sighs, shaking his head.

“Go get a drink, hmm?” He turns her and smacks her ass, she cringes then.

“Myself!?”

“Become immersed in the small town, it’ll be good publicity, sweets.” He winks as she pouts and saunters off, ignoring the men and at one point hissing at one.

“She’s on drugs or…” Suguru trails off, and Satoru snorts.

“She’s definitely on a good Adderall / Xani combo. Shit… I missed you guys.” He ruffles Shoko’s hair, and shoves at Suguru good naturedly, Suguru smiles a bit, dark hair even longer than Satoru remembers.

“Sure you did. Come back to visit?”

“Uh… no.” He peers at his phone, sighing now. “Our suite for whatever reason isn’t available, I was stopping here and going to call Mom, since I have no reception whatsoever.”

“Why would you bring her to your mom’s, doesn’t she suffer enough with you as her kid?” Shoko earns Satoru sticking his tongue out, picking up the phone and dialing.

“Toru, sweetie!” Satoru sighs, he loves his mom, but to this day she really treats him like a child, even now.

“Hey mom, cool if I stay a few nights? I have a modeling-”

“You’re coming home!?” Satoru winces, pulling back the phone as Suguru and Shoko laugh.

“Yeah, if it’s-”

“I’ll make your favorite, baby, triple stack pancakes with sundae-”

“No, no, too many carbs.” He hears his mom’s sigh of disappointment, and clenches his jaw just a bit, looking over to see Samantha taking pictures of herself on her fancy phone, throwing up a pose now. “I guess yeah, I’ll eat pancakes.”

“My baby, oh I can’t wait, let me get started now!” His mom hangs up, and he can’t help but feel that fondness, the emptiness he’s had for so long just the tiniest bit filled by her voice.

“She’s excited.” He muses, sighing then. “I need a drink.”

Suguru and Shoko eye each other, and Satoru’s blue eyes narrow, studying their odd expressions. “Yes, you should, bartender she’s amazing.” Shoko’s smiling, and Satoru’s lips purse a bit.

“Hmm, guess I’ll see. I’ll be back.” He pats their shoulders again, heading over and passing more and more familiar faces, gosh none of them left, huh?

He leans against the bar, poking around on his phone as he hears Sukuna, asking then -

“Lunch sometime?”

He snorts, eyeing the tall, big man who used to torment him, now eye to eye with him, and damn near his size. Sukuna blinks in surprise a bit when Satoru eyes him with humor.

“Lunch is friendzone territory, ouch.” Sukuna glares now, fists clenching on the bar, and that’s when…

You see him.

Satoru Gojo.

“Maybe I like lunch.” Your voice shocks him then, he eyes you, wide blue eyes going to the face of the girl he loved.

Your face.

You’re so pretty it makes his heart thud out of his fucking chest, you’re just like you were, maybe a bit more mature looking now, but god it was like a blast from his past, the ultimate memory of you couldn’t compare. You’re so beautiful, this fucking glow around you still, that comfort he has been craving hitting him in one instant, as he just stands there.

Satoru Gojo, who got whatever girl he wanted, was just standing there, staring at you, with his lips parted, you are heating up under his scrutiny, unsure of just what he was thinking, biting that lower lip a bit and shifting. He notices now, that you’re not fawning over him, drooling, like women did, if anything you’re glaring just a bit, your jaw set.

“I… you… here…” He can’t compute a fucking word - stupid, stupid - why did you reduce him to pathetic again, after all these years!?

“Yes, I work here again. I know, it’s not what I imagined either.” Your soft, devastated words attack him, making him feel like you punched him right in the gut, as Sukuna raises a brow at Satoru.

“Friend zone, did you just say that?” Satoru’s sputtering now, before clearing his throat, shutting his eyes and taking a breath.

He’s not some ‘nerd’ anymore.

He’s Satoru Fucking Gojo.

He smirks and leans against the bar, eyeing you slowly, pulling off pretentious shades that make you miss his tortoiseshell glasses. But when those piercing, swirling blue eyes hit you, trailing like Sukuna’s had, you feel so shy suddenly, so nervous around him, after so long. Surely he was looking down at you, surely he was so high and mighty that your life seemed sad to him.

You stand a little straighter now, while the two men, who have changed so much, both eye you, a blast from fucking high school if you ever saw one. “Look at you…” He murmurs your name softly, like a caress- shit his voice is deeper, it’s so sure, so cocky and conceited, not the sweet boy you miss. “You look great.”

“Thanks, so do you.” You manage softly, he’s in some suit worth as much as your year of work you’re sure, open with a vest showing of chest muscles, fuck he has red silk gloves, it’s so ridiculous you almost laugh.

He’s gorgeous but…

Who is he really?

“Working here again, huh?” He means it to be casual, but the way it comes off makes you straighten your shoulders, as Sukuna winces.

“All that money, all those women and you never learned.” Satoru scowls at Sukuna now, while you turn away, giving him a view of a body he’s dreamed of, fuck you’re even sexier now, those jeans sitting just right, is none of you not perfect, not beautiful?

“What can I get you, Gojo?” You ask after grabbing another beer for Sukuna, who takes it with a smile, and he tenses at that.

Gojo.

When did you ever call him anything but ‘Toru’?

But, you all are literally strangers now.

“Martini.” He says, earning Sukuna’s snort, Satoru’s scowl heads his direction once again as you start to get the ingredients together, shaking it up in the gold shaker like a pro.

“Little bitch drink.”

“Beer is disgusting, fuck that.”

Sukuna glares as he sips the drink, and you pour Satoru his martini, garnishing it and giving a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “One martini.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” You falter, at his soft voice, at the way he says everything as if it were some caress.

“You’re welcome.” He hands you far too much money then, making you blink. “It’s only ten bucks.”

“Keep the rest, love.” He winks now, and you feel your face heating up, did he think you needed it so badly? Does he pity you?

Does he care?

“Thanks… um, sure on lunch, Sukuna.” Satoru’s teeth clench, like watching history repeat itself. “Even if it’s ‘friend zone’ I’m fine with meeting up.”

“Perfect, here’s my number…” He writes it right on one of the pretty white napkins, and you take it carefully. “I’ll be in town all week.”

“Alright, sounds good.” Sukuna tips you, not the exorbitant fifty dollars Satoru just handed you, but a twenty, with a little nod of his head, as he passes Satoru now, and Samantha comes right up to him.

“Oh look at you, all star for the-” She’s flirting but Sukuna ignores her, winking at you and making you want to giggle, but you barely hold it in. “So rude! Gojo, can we please leave this shitty little bar?”

You scowl right up at the tall, beautiful model who pouts over at Satoru, clinging to his arm, he stiffens, but you see it, clearly they’re… together. “The ‘shitty little bar’ is owned by my family. And you are more than welcome to leave.”

“Oooh, you’re feisty.” She’s giggling psychotically, using her hand to make a clawing motion. “Rawr!”

“The fuck…” You shake your head, sighing as you set back to work, Samantha’s hands running down Satoru’s chest, irritating him to no end.

All he can see is you, and you’re just turning away, the girl he…

He left.

He left you.

No word, no goodbye, and he thought maybe it wouldn’t feel like this, maybe after eight years and endless women in his bed, he could stop feeling like this, stop the love he had. He tried to chalk it up to puppy love, you were the nicest person to him, of course he developed feelings, right?

Wrong.

He watches as you head out from behind the bar as Samantha’s going on and on about some Instagram post, downing the rest of his martini. “We’ll leave in a minute, go wait in the car.”

“I can’t believe we don’t even have a driver, ugh!” Satoru blinks at her, turning her now, watching as you stop and talk to Suguru and Shoko, smiling so sweet, lighting up the whole fucking room.

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Oh fine but…” She drags him down by his tie, whispering in his ear then- “I can suck you while you drive.”

What would once excite him doesn’t compute, he just nods and pushes the crazy woman to the entrance of the bar. “Sure whatever.”

“No pictures, please.” She throws on her sunglasses, as curious people wonder just what this woman is talking about, and Satoru feels your eyes on him then, his catch yours across the room. He watches you tense, as he steps closer, and Shoko and Suguru depart, giving you both one moment.

“Hi.” He manages to say, and for once, the pretentious rich model reminds you of him, the boy you grew up with, the one you miss so badly it feels like he’s a dream.

“Hi.” Your soft voice ends him, you’re shifting side to side, Satoru towers over you, making you feel so small then, as he presses a hand against the wall over your head, tilting your chin up with his other hand. Your eyes go wide then, breath catching, heart hammering.

“I’d love to catch up, I am here for a few days, I’ll be at mom’s.” You blink a bit then, looking down, gently taking his hand off your chin by his wrist, the contact making you both pause. For a moment he pictures it, kissing you, making every move he failed at in high school, taking your lips over.

He pictures so much, up to and including you under him, shit maybe now he’d have a chance with a girl like you, maybe he could taste your sweetness, could inhale that vanilla body spray you somehow wear eight years later. Could show you pleasure he bets you never got before, cock aching just being in your presence, he has to will it to go down.

“Your mom, I just saw her.” You ease his hand down, back resting against the wall just a bit, hair falling across your shoulders, you gasp when he brushes it back, another move he had tried and failed at back then.

That night should have been his first kiss.

You should have been his first everything, fuck.

“Could we do dinner or drinks?” His tone reminds you of what he said earlier, so you smile, a little mean glint in your eye.

“Maybe lunch.”

“Lunch!?” He’s glaring, thin white brows lowered, and you giggle.

“Coffee?”

Shit.

“Or is that too ‘friend zone’ for you, Gojo.” Satoru blinks a bit, hand falling, barely brushing your shoulder when it falls, you try to ignore how good it feels, he tries to act nonchalant, not like the fucking world is faded, aside from you. That the entire bar is just an echo, it’s just you.

And you’re furious, he can feel it. “No, no I mean it’s fine. If you want… coffee we can do coffee.” He can’t believe he’s saying this, he brushes his white locks back, winking down then. “We can do whatever you want.”

“Uh huh. Well, coffee then, if you want to catch up I’m surprised, considering it all though.” Satoru’s jaw clenches just a bit.

“I’d like to catch up.” You soften at his first vulnerable statement, the first thing that feels real. “How about in the morning, are you staying nearby?”

“I’m living with my parents for a couple months.” He frowns at that, you suddenly feel so insecure, a rich model right in front of you, just as he said that day- that he’d make it, and you all…

Would just burn out.

Maybe you did.

“Oh, you are, is something wrong?”

“Helping them a bit, big teacher layoffs nationwide.”

“You teach?” His smile is finally genuine, as you nod, so shyly, his shoulders relax, as his hands slip in his pockets once more. “You always wanted to.” Your eyes shoot up to his now, swirling beautiful blue, a hint of the sweet boy you adored.

“You remember?”

“How couldn’t I…”

“I figured you forgot us all.” Satoru gulps down the guilt, as you manage to pull yourself together, sighing. “Come by my parents in the morning, if you remember where they are.”

“How can I forget, it’s across the street.”

“All right then… I look forward to it.” He awkwardly leans down, as you wrap a friendly arm around his waist, inhaling his cologne, much different than the boy who wore axe body spray and always sucked on lifesavers. His hard body against your much softer one feels a little too good, when he rests his chin on your head.

Nothing has ever felt better than holding you in his arms.

Memories swirl for the both of you, but it’s different, Satoru seems like some bold and pretentious stranger, but for a moment you remember. You remember crying in his arms, over this breakup or that, you remember his sweet hugs during study sessions, you remember laughing and watching the dumbest movies. You exhale just a bit, as a big hand presses the small of your back.

Satoru missed you.

He doesn’t say it, he can’t say anything, pulling back and looking at you then, hand coming to cup your face, opening his mouth to speak when Samantha starts shouting “I’m bored Gojo! I’m so bored!”

The entire bar turns her direction, you fall back a bit, as Gojo internally curses, seeing the brat that is his partner crossing her arms in that fur coat. “I’m coming okay, shit!”

“Your girlfriend is bored.” You’re giggling then, you can’t help it, covering your face as Samantha glares.

“Not my girlfriend, jesus. Um… okay, the morning.” You nod, walking off now, past Samantha, who hisses at you like the psychotic bitch she is, making Satoru grimace with Suguru and Shoko walk up to Satoru.

“You fucked that intro up.” Suguru says, snorting as he puts his arm around Shoko’s waist, and she’s laughing.

“Fucked it up bad.”

“Oh like you’re any help.” They just shake their head, eyeing Satoru’s screaming model bestie.

“See you in eight more years.” Suguru’s words sting, as Satoru feels it then, the guilt eating away at him, but Samantha won’t shut up long enough for him to process, he drags her out into the cold, chilled air, seeing you climbing up into what appears to be your SUV, your eyes flicker to him for just a moment, before you shut the door.

“You like townies hmm? Can’t stop eye fucking girl next door.” Satoru’s eyes make even Samantha falter then.

“Who I like is none of your fucking concern. In.” He plops down in the rental, an audi of course, god forbid Satoru Gojo or Samantha would be seen in anything less, on that they are the same.

“You’re so cranky, she’s hot, just… gives those girl next door vibes.”

“Yeah well, she was the girl next door for me. Almost.” He feels her hand now, trailing over his thigh, she leans over and laughs in his ear, making him cringe. “How’d I get stuck with-”

“Let me make you feel so good, should I suck little Gojo?”

“Little Gojo!? It’s not little, Samantha.” He shoves her off, and she pouts again, crossing her arms.

“How’d I get stuck with you is the question, no fun. Now we have to go stay in poorville.”

“It’s the fucking suberbs.”

“Poor. Poor. Poor. Boring, boring.” Satoru almost pushes her out of the goddamn car, no blow job would be worth it, even if it would shut her up for a moment, even if his cock twitches thinking of you.

He pulls up to his home, his mother already has it opened when he walks up, hugging him tightly, kissing his face all over and making him wince. “Mom…”

“My baby, I never thought you’d come home.” She’s got tears in her pretty blue eyes, she visits LA once a year or more, but now the way tears fall from eyes that match his wracks him with guilt.

He could have come back at least once, right?

No, no he couldn’t.

“And this is…”

“Samantha.” She shakes his mom’s hand, tossing back long blonde locks and smiling. “You have such a quaint little home.”

Satoru’s mom blinks rapidly, brows together, this wasn’t a small home, it was four stories and lovely, left to them from Satoru’s dad, but he supposes to a rich, spoiled brat like Samantha, it’s ‘quaint’. “Um, thank you, and you’re staying too?”

“Unfortunately.” Satoru’s mom raises her brows, as Samantha clings to Satoru once again, grinning.

“I get to meet the mom, huh? I’m so special-”

“Let’s eat.”

Satoru finally leaves a snoring, annoying model brat Samantha alone in the guest room, when he walks inside his childhood room, frozen. Time has been frozen, his mother hasn’t changed a single fucking thing, up to and including pictures of you and him all over the walls. He gulps down his emotions, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click, undressing carefully.

He sees his old nerdy ass sweater, one you’d gotten him, still folded on his desk, like he never left. His fingers brush the fabric, as he stares at his reflection, feeling like he’s a ghost in his own room. The connections start to build, the mirror he kissed that night, the endless photos and mementos he kept. He eyes that box now, opening a letter carefully, crumbled and faded ink.

My Toru, I hope you have the best day, I can’t wait for the movies!

Toru, can you believe how the year has flown by!?

Do you want to go bowling Y or N

Your new glasses are so cute I love them!

Bad day today, sorry I’m quiet.

Tears fall down his cheeks, he only notices when the blotches form on the ink, all the times you’d write to him every day, passing little notes in class with hearts all over them, brightening his day. He’d kept every single fucking one, and there were so, so many in this tin box, stuffed inside like all of his fucking feelings.

He wipes his eyes quickly, shaking it off, pulling out his luggage with his own clothes and getting dressed in sweats for the night, curiously pushing on the cd left in the player, sighing then. Your favorite song, it’s that mixed CD he was making you, the one he never gave you. Satoru quickly turns it off, the button a resounding click, walking to the corkboard littered with you.

Knock knock knock.

“Come in, mom.” She does just that, peeking her pretty face, still so young looking, so sweet as she smiles at him. “You didn’t change any of it.”

“No, I always hoped you’d come back, at least for a day.” She walks up to Satoru now, seeing the photos he’s staring at now, Satoru and you sipping a milkshake together with two straws, in the middle of a diner. “You two were so sweet, she’s back in town you know.”

“I know… I’m seeing her in the morning.” His mom’s eyes light up, and he laughs a bit. “Don’t get excited, my life isn’t here mom.”

“Part of it will always be.” She cups his face, smiling up at him. “I hope you have fun with her, she has kept in touch all these years you know.”

“She has?”

“Yes, she… misses you. She asks about you when she visits town.” Satoru blinks back emotion, turning away now, clearing his throat.

You asked about him after all this? After he'd gone out of your life for good? What if he just heard you out, what if he…

“I’m tired, mom.” Mrs. Gojo nods, a hand on his back for a moment.

“Good night, Toru.”

“Night.” He lays in his bed, phone blowing up, his agent with details, a coordinator for the show, friends from LA teasing him on having to come back home, but he quickly turns it off, holding a photo of you, the only one he brought.

He gently touches it, sighing, wondering…

Will you like him now, could he be good enough?

While you lay in bed, tossing, turning, fuming damn near at Satoru Gojo’s audacity, sitting up finally, putting on Satoru’s favorite song, on that mixed CD you had been making him, before he disappeared. Your childhood room is the same as it always was, littered with photos of you and Satoru, your best friend that just disappeared, and came back a different person.

You touch a photo, one where he’s grinning so big with his cute little braces, holding up a science award, and you’re so overcome with emotion you have to hold back your tears, touching the polaroid gently. Was that boy in there somewhere, the boy you knew, the one who deserved the world - he seemingly got it of course.

Would he find you so boring? He hung out with celebrities, he walked runways, he’s clearly got a beautiful - batshit insane but- girl on his arm. Was it some pity, did he feel bad you were in a little bar? Your mind can’t handle it all, as you plop down in your childhood bed, mind racing.

Who was Satoru Gojo now?

Ah why'd I tear up when Satoru goes home? Next part we see just how coffee goes lol

taglist #1- @pinkyvomit @saitamaswifey @kachowness @vraiao @artbligh @psychoartiste @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @bsenpai @simp-for-wanderer @rjreins @emonaculate @myahfig4 @casua11ycrying @psycren @blushedcheri @ureuphoriasworld @frozenmallows @kanaojacksonofc @rcveriees @xlilycoco @yukimaniac @sypnasis @tokina @sharkubi @tztuoo @hyori2 @yesdere @gradmacoco @gamerhere @seikamuzu @xinsonyax @vvaoo @angie420 @ria54sworld @blue-musingss @mysticmyth @asimpinamillion @arabellasolstice @ilovebeansyay @notme000 @emochosoluvr @iv-vee @heh123321 @fushikamo @danilovesboba @spookyy-gracee @satorusleftnut @clqxuds @femaholicc

#satoru gojo x you #gojo x reader smut #nerd gojo #nerdjo #satoru gojo #satoru x reader #satoru x you #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #satoru gojo fluff #satoru smut #divider by cafekitsune

3K notes · View notes

caffeinewitchcraft · 9 months ago

Text

AITA for telling my boyfriend’s coworkers that he’s lying about his body count?

I (35f) have been dating my boyfriend (32m) for four years. It’s honestly been the best relationship until last Friday when it all went down. I feel like I’m in the right, but now I’m wondering if I overstepped.

For context, my boyfriend has been a professional Slasher for about eight months now. He’s always really admired Cryptids, Monsters, and Nightmares so when his application was finally accepted, he was over the moon even if he was starting in a lower position than he initially applied for.

At his company, being a Slasher requires a lot of travel which we knew when he accepted the position. The end goal is for him to get a promotion to at least regional Nightmare (he wants Cryptid, but that position doesn’t have a lot of turnover) but to get that he needs to be in role for at least 12 months OR meet his goals for three months in a row. Once he promotes, we plan to relocate to his new region and “start talking about our future.”

(Side note: no this isn’t about him not popping the question yet. We are both in agreement that marriage comes after financial stability. I run a small business doing scare consults and, while it’s been growing, I wouldn’t call it stable yet. So neither of us are ready.)

I told him it’s completely normal for it to take a whole year before he’s ready to promote and he really should focus on adjusting to the company before thinking about next steps. I used to work for a competitor (I’ve been retired for five years now) and I know it can be hard to go from only taking the occasional human life to having to take over half a dozen a week. It’s not a light workload, no matter how easy it looks in the movies. One of my best friends Slashes part-time and she still only averages about five lives a week despite having done it for years. Especially these days, it can be really hard to meet quota. Humans are getting smarter, no matter what the Council wants us to think.

Anyway, boyfriend didn’t do as well as he thought he would in his first couple months. Totally understandable, of course, which I told him. I suggested he ask his boss if he could be put on a couple team assignments or even a duo until he got the hang of it. That was our first real fight. He thought I was doubting his ability to kill. He brought up how I told him it would take over a year to promote and how I said that this job wasn’t for everyone (His first assignment ended with a 0% kill rate, but that’s a different story). He said it felt like I didn’t believe in him and he said that if that was the case then maybe we shouldn’t be thinking about marriage so soon.

It got pretty messy after that. I felt like he was forgetting that I’d worked in the same field and, arguably, had a lot more experience (not to brag, but I averaged a 98% kill rate). Also, four years is NOT too soon to talk about marriage. He said I didn’t understand how he needed to focus on his career right now. I told him I thought he was taking Slasher too lightly just because it wasn’t Cryptid. He accused me of not respecting him and then things spiraled from there.

We both said a lot of things we didn’t mean and I’m embarrassed that it turned into a bit of a fang measuring contest. I ended up sleeping under the bed for a few nights until he coaxed me out to apologize.

It was a rough patch, but we talked it out. We agreed that, going forward, I wouldn’t offer advice unless he asked and he would try not to take so much of his frustration home with him. He took a weekend off and we went on a recreational haunting trip in the Montana woods.

Things did get better after that. I tried not to give him consults every time he came back from a work trip. He started bringing me souvenirs like roses and cursed puzzle boxes his work said he could have. It became easier just to hang out with each other and it felt like we were back to normal.

But then, four months ago, he came home super pissed because his boss put him on a PIP. (A performance improvement plan.) Apparently, boyfriend had not been doing better at work, he had just stopped telling me when he had a bad assignment. I saw the paperwork he got (he left it in the dungeon under the house, I didn’t go through his stuff) and he’s been missing quota by a LOT. As a junior Slasher, he was supposed to be executing at least 6 people a week, but he’d been lucky to be maiming half that.

Obviously, I had to talk to him about that. We rent our house and, even though I could have afforded the rent on my own, I didn’t want to jeopardize the investments I was making in my business (I was in the process of hiring an assistant to handle my scheduling). Plus, we agreed from day one that we would be 50/50 on rent and I would take care of the rest of the bills because I earned more. I felt that if his financial situation was in jeopardy, he needed to talk to me about it.

I tried to approach him a bit differently than last time. I asked him if there was anything I could do to help. I told him about my slasher friend and how maybe she could give him advice if he didn’t want any from me. But he said he needed to figure stuff out on his own and that if he couldn’t get himself off the PIP then he would go back to work for his dad’s janitorial company.

I let it go. I was worried but I didn’t want to fight again just after patching the holes from the last blow out. It really bugged me that he thought I didn’t believe in him so I committed to giving him the benefit of the doubt. I said okay and asked him if he needed me to meal prep for both of us that week. He offered me grocery money, but I said it was fine since I’d had to deal with a lot of humans breaking in lately and I still had some leftover in the dungeon.

Fast forward a month. Boyfriend got off the PIP super fast. He worked his way off of it over Spring Break and started taking on a lot of extra assignments. In just four weeks he went to Miami Beach twice, New York City twice, and to three separate summer camps. I missed him and it was hard not having him around but I remembered how he said he needed to focus on his career and I tried not to nag.

It was hard not to nag though. With him gone, all the housework fell on me. We rent a 19th century manor, and its upkeep really does need two people. Doing all the chores plus running my business started to really drain me. Even when he was home, he forgot to banish the ghosts (my chore is to kill all invading humans, and his chore is to banish their ghosts) and he never took out the trash. I think he cleaned blood off the dungeon walls once, but then I had to basically redo it because he missed a lot of spots.

But still, I didn’t say anything because he was doing really well at work and I didn’t want to ruin that for him. Even when Humans started breaking in every week, I didn’t complain even though it interrupted my work day.

Last month though, I did ask him if we could move somewhere that needed less maintenance. There were just way too many Humans breaking in and I didn’t have the time to deal with them anymore. Even if I don’t do all the theatrics I used to as a Cryptid, killing humans through fear still takes a lot of time. He asked me if I didn’t appreciate the free meat, and I said I would appreciate it more if I wasn’t the only butchering it.

He said he didn’t want to move because he was really close to getting promoted to regional Nightmare and he didn’t want to take time off work to move. I was so surprised that I couldn’t hide how surprised I was. He saw and got offended. He asked if I still didn’t believe in him. I said that I did, but it was a huge jump to go from an 8% kill rate to getting promoted.

He got even more mad at me for bringing up his stats and he said that he had nearly 80% kill rate since being put on the PIP. I asked how many humans a week he was slashing and he told me I was being too nosy and that was proof that I didn’t believe in him.

I asked him if we could at least hire a ghoul then to keep the humans out of my office and he said he didn’t want to waste the money that we should be saving for our new house. I asked him what he wanted me to do then? I had to take phone calls for my consulting business and it was really hard to stalk humans all around the house while trying to sound like a professional to my clients.

He asked me to be patient for one more month. He said if he met quota for one more month, his boss said he’d get promoted. So I said fine and let it go.

Fast forward to now, almost a full month later.

Last Friday, I attended the Eldritch Conference. For those not in the scare field, the Eldritch Conference is the most prestigious event in our industry. It’s invitation only and is a chance to network with all the big players in the field. Mothman, the Jersey Devil, Bloody Mary and Bigfoot all spoke this year and both my former company, Grudge Industries, and my boyfriend’s current company, Forgotten Summer Solutions, were invited.

I was surprised to get an invite as a solo contributor to the field. However, my consulting firm has really been doing well and I did land a seasonal contract with the Yeti Co-op which I guess is how they heard about me. Plus, I’ve been a speaker before so I think the organizers knew I would behave myself.

I was planning on telling my boyfriend that I was going, but he was out of town on a co-ed sleepover assignment. He usually doesn’t have his phone on during his assignments, so I didn’t bother calling him. I just figured it’d be nice if we ran into each other at the conference if he made it back in time.

Which brings me to what actually happened (apologies for the long post).

So everything went great for my part of the day. I got to network with a lot of individual businesses and even got to reconnect with Blood Mary who I knew back in my Cryptid days. I told her I was dating a Slasher from Forgotten Summer Solutions and invited her to come with me to check out their booth. I thought it would be fun to grab dinner with her after since I assumed if my boyfriend was there, he’d be going out with coworkers which he often does. Plus, I admit, I was showing off a little. I don’t often get the chance to brag about my Cryptid days.

She agreed and we went over to see if my boyfriend was there.

I introduced myself to the people manning the booth. My boyfriend wasn’t there, but a few Slashers recognized my name and greeted me. They were definitely in awe of Bloody Mary (she came in full uniform) and invited us to look at their displays. They had portfolios for each Slasher on the desk as a sort of preview of what their services looked like.

While Bloody Mary looked through the portfolios, I chatted with my boyfriend’s coworkers. They said they were thrilled to work with him and that, even though he had a really rough start, it was impressive how quickly he started meeting his goals. Something about how they talked about his work kind of didn’t make sense. They were talking like he was killing a dozen humans a week, but he’d told me that he was at 80% on his assignments which typically only offer about ten humans each.

I asked them about it and they said that he’d been Slashing during After Hours which is a new goal supplement program his company launched a few months ago. Basically, anyone can sign up for After Hours and the company counts human kills done in uniform as part of their quota. I asked them if this was available to them while they were on assignment and they said no, it had to be done when they had down time. I asked them how my boyfriend was part of that when he was traveling all the time and they looked confused. One of them said that my boyfriend is still getting one assignment per week and is then supplementing his kill rate with After Hours.

At that point, I was even more confused. It sounded like my boyfriend had been lying to me then, because he told me that he was getting at least two assignments a week. If he was only getting one, then where was he going when he said he was traveling?

Bloody Mary interrupted before I could say anything and asked how their Slashers did their kills. They said that every Slasher at their company is required to use a standard issue weapon (like a machete or axe) for their kills to count. They said their company doesn’t count accidents as part of their quota (like falling or heart attacks).

Bloody Mary pulled me aside and showed me the portfolio she was holding. She said that she was going to give me a chance to explain without them overhearing and showed me the book. She said that a bunch of kills in it looked Cryptid kills. And she said, specifically, it looked like the kills I made when I was a Cryptid. I took the book from her and flipped through it and she was right, they really did look like Cryptid kills. Worse, I recognized a few of the Humans from the past few weeks. They were actually my kills!

Kill stealing is a major taboo in our industry.

I told her I didn’t know anything about this. She looked really relieved at that and said that even though I wasn’t a Cryptid anymore, it would look really bad for me if I was caught helping a Slasher cheat at their job. It could affect my business which she’d only heard good things about.

I’m embarrassed to say that I tried to defend him. He’s new to our industry so I thought it might be a mistake. He might not be trying to cheat, this could be a misunderstanding.

She said she didn’t think so because a mistake would be one or two of my kills mixed in with his, not the entire book.

I counted up how many photos were in the book and, all told, of the 146 kills, at least 100 were mine. I couldn’t really say it was a mistake at that point and I was just staring at his portfolio like an idiot. Bloody Mary asked me what I was going to do because, mistake or not, this looked really bad and could damage my reputation if it got out.

At that moment, another man walked up to booth and asked us if there was a problem. I knew that if I said anything, I would be jeopardizing my boyfriend’s job, but if I didn’t say something, I was jeopardizing my business.

I told my boyfriend’s coworkers that he was lying about his body count. I said I didn’t think that they knew he was doing it, but over half of the kills in his portfolio weren’t his and I suggested they remove it from their display before another Cryptid came by and realized it.

The other man thanked me for bringing this to his attention and asked how we knew. Bloody Mary said that she knew another Cryptid’s kills and I had to tell them that I was that Cryptid, though I was retired now. He asked me if I knew my boyfriend was doing this, and I told him no.

I told him I really didn’t want to get my boyfriend in trouble and suggested that maybe he didn’t know those kills didn’t belong to him because they happened in our house. I was grasping at straws and Blood Mary even looked sad for me. His coworkers looked skeptical but tentatively agreed. The man – who turned out to my boyfriend’s boss – said that they would investigate this thoroughly and apologized personally for his employee’s misconduct.

I was spiraling at that point so I thanked him and said I wasn’t mad, I was just looking out for both of our reputations. He promised to keep it between us and I agreed.

Then I apologized to Bloody Mary because I didn’t feel like eating dinner anymore. She said she understood and wished me well.

I went home and did a quick perimeter search of the property. Sure enough, there were human summoning stones ALL OVER the yard. Which means my boyfriend was intentionally luring humans to our house to get me to kill them so he could take credit. It wasn’t a mistake at all.

My boyfriend came home later that night in his work clothes. As soon he got inside he started yelling. He said he was suspended without pay and that all his hard work was for nothing.

I said I knew he’d been stealing my kills and he almost ruined my reputation. He said they still counted as his kills because he did all the work of luring the humans to our house.

I told him that wasn’t how it worked and he knew it. He said it was the same as setting a trap and I was taking this too seriously. I told him that, as a Slasher, he has to use a weapon to get his kills, not me. He said I was basically the same thing since I had such a high kill rate. I asked him if he was calling me an object.

(My parents exploited me by selling me as a haunted doll through a lot of my childhood and he knows I’m sensitive to being called an object.)

He backpedaled at that point and asked if I didn’t want to buy a house together. He said he was doing it for us and I should’ve understood and not said anything. I told him that when I was a Cryptid I had my pride and would’ve never done this.

He said I needed to tell his boss that he was the one who made all those kills. I said it wasn’t me who recognized them as Cryptid kills and now his boss knew too. He accused me of thinking I’m better than him because I have telekinetic powers and can move through shadows and can possess people, while he’s basically a human himself. I told him of course not and that I worked hard for those powers unlike him.

He got really mad at that and actually charged at me with his machete raised. I don’t think he was going to actually hit me, but I reacted like he was. It was all instinct. I disarmed him and I swear I heard a crack when I grabbed his wrist. I shoved him into the wall.

He crumpled to the floor and started crying. He said sorry and sort of curled up around his wrist. He said he didn’t ever feel like he was enough for me and he didn’t even know why I was still with him. He called himself a bunch of names and said I would be better off without him.

I sort of awkwardly stood there for a minute. On one hand I wanted to assure him that he was enough and that I loved him, but, on the other, I wasn’t sure I could forgive him. He nearly ruined my reputation, and he embarrassed me in front of Bloody Mary. Plus, I still didn't know where he’d been going all those times he said he was on a business trip and apparently wasn’t.

So I ended up not saying anything. I went to our room and started packing a bag. He followed me. He was still crying as he begged me not to go. He said he would own up to his kill steals at work and he would make it right. He pleaded for me not to leave him and that he would give up slashing.

I told him I needed space to think. He tried to grab me, but I shadow walked out of the house. I heard him screaming from outside and I hurriedly drove away.

Now I’m at my friend’s house and I told her everything. She agreed I did the right thing walking away from him, but when I asked her what I should do she hesitated. She said that my boyfriend wasn’t right to kill steal but, as a fellow Slasher, she understood what he was going through. She said I wouldn’t understand the pressure to meet quota because I was always surpassing mine when I was in the field. She said that a Cryptid could never understand a Slasher.

She also said that nobody would have found out about his kills if I hadn’t brought them to his boss’ attention. She said the only time kills are on display like that is at the Eldritch Conference and by the next one, he’d have had kills of his own. She thinks that if I’d just confronted him at home, he wouldn’t be on suspension.

So now I’m worried that I overreacted when I told my boyfriend’s coworkers that he was lying about his body count.

AITA?

----

Thanks for reading! Several amazing supernatural citizens (aka my Patrons) gave great advice to our poor OP over on my Patreon! Please go check them out here (X)

(I will definitely be posting some of them here in the near future!)

My next supernatural AITA is already up to my patrons!

It's called "AITA for divorcing my vampire husband because he lied about his human job?"

Patrons get to see many of my stories a week ahead! If that interests you please check me out here (X)!

#my writing #aita reddit parody #third person #original fiction #supernatural #halloween #aita parody

6K notes · View notes

sai-int · 3 months ago

Note

return to sender simon making reader sit on his face despite her lack of experience and fear she'll suffocate him

this one got a little lengthy I fear...

cw: oral (f), face sitting, mdni below the cut

“you sure?”

you’re perched on top of him, straddling his chest as his hands wander along the expansive of your thighs

“i mean—are you seriously sure?”

the overhead light is off, the bedroom dim, lit only by the amber glow of the bedside lamp . simon blinks up at you like you’ve asked him something utterly ridiculous.

“am i sure?” he repeats. sis voice is low and amused, rough at the edges like gravel and thunder. “sweetheart, m’fuckin’ starvin’.”

you let out a nervous little laugh, trying to brush off the fluttering panic in your belly. “i just… i don’t know what im doing, babe.”

his brow furrows—not in frustration, but something gentler. he sits up just enough to brace one arm behind him, the other reaching for you, hand warm on your hip. “y’don’t have to do a thing,” he murmurs. “let me take care of it.”

“i’m not trying to chicken out, i swear—”

“i know, love,” he cuts in. not unkindly. his voice softens, lips brushing your knee as you softly shift. “you’re overthinkin’ again.”

you drop your gaze, fingers fidgeting in the hem of your sleep shirt. “i just… what if i hurt you? i mean—you’re big, si, but i don’t wanna suffocate you or something.”

he blinks, and then—laughs. a deep, hearty sound from his chest that makes your whole face heat up.

“if i die,” he says between chuckles, gripping your waist to draw you closer, “that’s the way i wanna go.”

“simon.”

“‘s true, girl. buried ‘tween these thighs?” he sighs, mock-dreamy, and presses a kiss to the inside of your leg. “hell of a way to go out.”

he’s being sweet, trying to lighten you up—but you’re still hovering there on your knees, skin hot, breath shaky. you know what he’s offering, and you want it, want him, but the vulnerability of it all feels damning.

he sees it. reads you like a map he’s memorized front to back (he has).

“hey.” his voice dips, quieter now, lower. “y’trust me baby?”

you look into those eyes—dark, steady, safe. and you nod.

“then come here, love.” he lies back again, mouth tilted in the smallest, cockiest smile. “sit that pretty cunt on my face like a good girl, yeah?”

your breath catches.

he doesn’t grab. doesn’t yank you down. he waits—patient, confident. like he knows you’ll do it. because he knows you want to. that all your hesitation is just nerves, not refusal.

you ease up toward his shoulders on shaky legs, and his big, calloused hands scrape up your thighs, then under your shirt—palms searing and slow as they spread over your hips and waist.

“c’mon, sweets,” he murmurs, voice like a dark promise. “right here. let me have you.”

you settle just above his mouth, barely letting your weight rest on him, and he growls.

“uh-uh. full weight, y’hear me?” one hand leaves your hip to land a sharp smack to your ass. “sit.”

—as if you’re a dog.

you gasp, lowering until you feel the heat of his mouth on you. his tongue—god. long, wide, confident—sweeps up your folds with a guttural sound like he’s been waiting for this since he first ate you out on your dresser months ago.

it’s overwhelming. wet and messy and so fucking good you forget your own name.

you try to lift off, try to relieve some pressure, but his grip tightens.

“nah” he grunts against you, the vibration making you tremble. “stay down. y’not goin’ anywhere.”

he eats you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. like you’re dinner, dessert, salvation. tongue fucking into your weeping hole, nose brushing your clit, hands bruising on your hips. you’re moaning, writhing like a pornstar as your thighs tremble, but he just keeps going, like a man possessed. like he needs it more than air.

“si—,” you gasp, overwhelmed. “si, baby, i—i can’t—”

“yes, you can,” he growls, finally pulling back just enough to speak clearly, chin glistening, eyes wild. “y’ gonna sit pretty and come for me , pup. c’mon, love. come in m’mouth.”

he doesn’t give you time to argue. mouth back on you, rougher now, greedy, tongue circling your clit until your hips stutter and grind and shake—until you're crying out and your whole body goes tight and hot and shattering.

and even then—even then—he doesn’t stop. licks you through it, holds you steady as you fall apart above him, as you drip and leak into his mouth, savoring the sweet, tangy taste of you.

when you finally slump forward, completely spent, he coaxes you off with care—arms wrapping around you as you collapse alongside him. he shifts, flips you onto your back so he’s the one holding you, protective and proud, one hand stroking your hair.

you’re panting. blinking up at the ceiling, dazed and fucked-out and utterly wrecked.

he kisses your temple. his voice is quiet. smug.

“still worried about killing me, sweets?”

#♱ angel’s writing #𓄧 angel’s asks #˖ . ݁𝜗 { ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇɴᴅᴇʀ } 𝜚. ݁₊#˖ . ݁𝜗 { 𝑰𝑵 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑴𝑷𝑻 } 𝜚. ݁₊#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost call of duty #simon riley imagine

2K notes · View notes

helaintoloki · 4 months ago

Text

A Favor

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: lots of pining, eventual fluff, fake dating

notes: had to try my hand at the fake dating trope

summary: you pretend to be Bucky’s girlfriend in order to help his campaign despite your very real feelings for him

“You want me to what?”

Sam can’t hold back his laughter when you look at Bucky like he’s grown a second head after processing the question he has asked you. The man in question stands there with an unamused scowl and a growing sense of embarrassment while waiting for his friend to regain his composure.

“Are you finished?” He snarks sharply, grunting in annoyance when Sam heartily claps his back in his response.

“I’m good, I’m good,” he breathes after wiping away a tear, “go ahead and ask her again.”

“I need you to pretend to be in a relationship with me,” Bucky mutters while refusing to meet your gaze, wishing the floor of your home would simply open up and swallow him whole so that he’d be saved from the humiliation.

“You realize that’s a crazy thing to ask, right?” You retort from your place behind the kitchen island. When you invited the two men over for dinner you hadn’t anticipated being ambushed like this, and you were starting to regret ever getting yourself mixed up with the two heroes.

“I know it is, but Valentina says if I want votes I need to make myself more relatable. Some people still have a hard time separating me from the Winter Soldier, but if they can see me as a normal man with a loving partner they might change their minds.”

“And why can’t Sam be the loving partner?” You rebuff, prompting him to immediately raise his hands in protest.

“Nuh uh, baby. Are you forgetting I’m Captain America? I’m too busy to be playing house with Mr. Congeniality over here.”

“Y/n, you’re the only person that can do this,” Bucky insists, eyes pleading for you to understand, “it would be more believable if it was you since we’re already close.”

“Maybe too damn close,” Sam murmurs under his breath, but both you and Bucky choose to ignore his comment.

“I don’t know,” you drawl, still a bit hesitant to put yourself through a fake relationship, “it feels a bit scummy lying to voters like that.”

“Politicians lie all the time,” Bucky tries to justify, but it’s not very effective in convincing you. “Look, this is something that’s important for me to do, and I will owe you for the rest of my life if you help me. It will only be until the votes are in, and then we can go back to normal.”

Sighing, you let your hands fall onto the counter and gaze thoughtfully at the marble surface as you weigh your options. It really couldn’t be that bad, could it? You’re already fond of Bucky as a friend, so it wouldn’t be so hard to pretend to be in love with him for a few months. What was the harm?

You look up and meet his expectant gaze, and it’s hard not to say yes when the desperation is clear in his eyes. Bucky has always been good at getting you to fold, and this time is no different.

“Alright, I’ll do it,” you finally say, and the grin that spreads across his face almost feels rewarding. He immediately pulls you into his arms for a bone crushing hug and thanks you profusely, but his gratitude falls on deaf ears as you make eye contact with Sam over his shoulder.

The man says nothing, but he doesn’t have to when the mischievous smile on his face speaks for itself. You’ve gotten yourself into deep shit and he knows it.

You just hope you can keep up the facade without revealing how you truly feel.

~~~

Your arrangement with Bucky is simple.

While in public you are to act as in love with him as possible. You hold hands, share innocent pecks, look adoringly into each other’s eyes, and act as if your relationship isn’t a complete sham. When telling stories about each other you make sure to include some bits of truth to make it more believable and easier to remember when prompted. Your arrangement also includes public appearances to important social events, and that’s how you find yourself in your current predicament.

You wouldn’t consider yourself the most extroverted person out there, so you felt extremely out of your element as you donned the nicest dress you owned and accompanied Bucky to a cocktail party hosted by the local mayor. All eyes had been on you the moment you’d walked through the door on his metal arm, and you weren’t sure if you could handle getting this type of attention. This was only your first public appearance as his girlfriend and already were you starting to feel the pressure.

“You doing okay?” Bucky murmurs into your ear before flashing a smile to nearby onlookers.

“I’m starting to regret agreeing to this,” you answer honestly, prompting a genuine chuckle to leave his lips.

“Trust me, it gets easier being in the spotlight after a while.”

You sincerely doubt that, but you don’t get a chance to argue as you’re immediately swarmed by a group of journalists eager to get their questions answered. The lights of their cameras are blinding, and you feel like you’ve been tossed into the lion’s den as they immediately bombard you both with questions.

“Mr. Barnes, is it true you’re running for a position in congress?”

“It is,” he affirms with an easy smile before reciting the practiced lines Valentina had vehemently rehearsed with him. “I have great hopes for this election.”

“Mr. Barnes, may I ask who you have with you tonight?”

“This beautiful woman is my wonderful girlfriend,” Bucky replies while simultaneously pulling you closer to his side. “Y/n has been nothing but supportive of my campaign, and it’s with her support that I’ve found the courage to run.”

“Do you have anything to say to those who doubt Mr. Barnes’s capability to serve in congress?” A woman asks before shoving a microphone in your face. You freeze like a deer caught in headlights as all the focus turns to you, and it takes you a moment to compose yourself before finally willing yourself to answer.

“I think…” you start off with a nervous smile, mind racing as you struggle to come up with the perfect response. Bucky shoots you a subtle look, reminding you of what he’d advised you in the car before you’d arrived. ‘Just be honest.’ “I know that my James is a good man, a strong man who cares deeply for those around him. The American people can put their faith in someone like Bucky because despite all that he has been through, he has never once given up on himself or the people that love him. I have no doubt in my mind that Bucky could help our government for the better.”

More questions are thrown your way that you are happy to answer, but this causes you to miss the clear adoration in Bucky’s eyes as he watches you carry yourself so eloquently in front of all these people. You meant every single word you said, and so had he.

Unbeknownst to either of you, the lines between reality and fiction were already starting to blur when it came to your make believe relationship.

~~~

“So how did you two meet?”

You’re taking part in yet another press junket arranged by Valentina to help the public see Bucky’s humility and make your relationship seem more genuine. This is your third interview of the day, and all you want is to go home so you can put on your coziest pajamas and enjoy a pizza from the comfort of your couch. Public appearances are draining, but Bucky promises you that after this week you won’t be expected to appear on camera as frequently. You’re holding him to that promise because otherwise you might lose your sanity, and Bucky knows how scary you can be when provoked.

“Well, after the Thanos situation had ended and the dust settled, I moved into a new apartment for a fresh start,” Bucky explains truthfully before turning to you with a tender smile. “What I didn’t expect after moving in was to have the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen standing at my door with a plate of cookies to welcome me into the building. I think I thought about her smile for an entire week before finally working up the courage to thank her and invite her over for dinner.”

Though the story Bucky relays to the cameras is mostly true, you’re honestly stunned by the way he chooses to describe you. He must be really desperate for viewers to believe he’s a man in love with the way he speaks as if Cupid’s arrow had struck him the day you two met. You find yourself shifting almost nervously in your seat listening to him talk about how wonderful you are, and you can almost feel your heart trying to escape your ribcage. You know he means none of this, so why does your stomach flip every time he mentions how beautiful you are or how enamored he is with you?

“Would you say your experience was similar?” The interviewer asks, and it takes you a moment to realize they’re talking to you now. You dotingly place a hand on Bucky’s knee then gaze into his eyes with nothing but love and are surprised to see him already looking at you that way.

“From the moment I first introduced myself to James I knew he was different from anyone I’d ever met before. I think I was taken by his eyes when I first saw him, and I still sometimes find myself admiring them when I think he’s not paying attention.”

Though he doesn’t know it, your words are completely true. You could spend hours staring into his eyes and admiring the way they light up when he laughs or smiles. You have it bad for Bucky, really bad, and yet you’ve kept it to yourself throughout the course of your friendship. Despite Sam’s insistence to tell him the truth, you just can’t bring yourself to do it. You love him too much to risk losing his friendship, so you’d made peace with the fact that you’d never be more than just a companion a long time ago. You thought you could survive being his fake girlfriend, but with each day that passes it gets harder and harder not to fall into the fantasy.

“You doing okay?” He asks you after the night is over and you’re free to be yourself in the safety of his car. You’d been quiet ever since leaving the press junket, and Bucky knew you well enough to detect when your mind was becoming overrun.

“I think I’m just tired,” you answer truthfully, “it’s hard to keep up the facade sometimes.”

“I get what you mean,” he chuckles, prompting you to frown. You don’t think he does get what you mean or understand how suffocating it is to act as if your adoration and affection are just for show. “We just have one more event to attend and then we can go back to being friends.”

“Bucky?”

“Yeah, doll?”

You swallow nervously, opening your mouth only to shut it as you hold back the words you desperately wish to say. You don’t want to complicate things and ruin all of his hard work, it would be selfish of you to muck it up now when he’s so close to the finish line. So instead, you look to him with a halfhearted smile and suggest, “You want to pick up a pizza on the way home?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

~~~

You’re grateful for the fact that the last public event on your itinerary is a birthday party for your very own Captain America. All of the focus is on Sam, and the political journalists are much more interested in his relationship with Bucky than yours. You can breathe without having to worry about being perceived or disturbed, and you don’t mind being old news in the slightest.

Sam finds you outside the banquet hall in the garden gazebo staring contemplatively at the sky a few hours into the party, and he joins you with glasses of champagne in hand.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he notes with a kind smile before handing you your glass. “I’ve been dying to have a real human conversation all night, but these reporters are relentless.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” you joke thoughtfully before taking a sip of the drink. You don’t particularly like champagne, but you appreciate the way the alcohol helps settle your nerves.

“You doing okay?” Sam prompts, genuine concern etched on his features. You know what he’s getting at, and you know he’s aware of just how hard this has all been on you. Sam had been able to shake you down into confessing your feelings for Bucky two years ago after noting your jealousy over the fact that he’d been on a date. He teased you relentlessly for having a crush on the Winter Soldier, but it was all in good faith. Sam had always rooted for you two, but neither of you seemed capable of ever making a move. It was exhausting to watch his two closest friends blindly pine after one another, but he knew better than to intervene and instead chose to be a supportive shoulder for you to lean on.

“After today I’m back to being just a friend,” you state with a wry smile, “and it’s back to square one.”

“You know it would be easier to just tell him how you feel instead of torturing yourself, right?”

“I know,” you sigh pathetically, swirling the remaining champagne around in your glass.

“So why don’t you? I know you never believe me when I say this, but I know for a fact he feels the same way about you. You’re both just too scared of rejection to admit it so you never even try to make a move.”

“I’m not a hero or a politician, and I don’t belong in your world. It’s by pure chance I ended up becoming part of your little team, so I don’t think I’m what Bucky needs.”

“Come on, y/n/n, give yourself a little credit,” Sam comforts while gently nudging your side with his elbow. “You’re an amazing woman with a big heart, and while Bucky may be stupid, he’s definitely not stupid enough to be blind to the fact.”

Laughing softly at Sam’s ability to seamlessly slide in an insult at Bucky’s expense, you nudge him back and say, “Thanks, Sam. You always know just what to say.”

“Trying to steal my girl, Wilson?” A third voice interjects, both of you turning to see Bucky approaching the gazebo with an amused smile.

“Not this time, Barnes,” Sam shoots back playfully before giving you a quick squeeze to his side. “I’ll leave you two alone, but be back inside within the next half hour for cake.”

“You got it, Cap,” you affirm with a salute while Bucky takes his place beside you.

“You ran off on me,” he points out in mock hurt.

“Well, I didn’t want to interrupt the love fest you and Sam were putting on for the reporters,” you jest only for Bucky to roll his eyes.

“You’re hilarious.”

You smile and return your gaze back to the garden, enjoying the silence and the comfort Bucky’s presence brings you. Despite the aching longing that settles in the pit of your stomach every time you’re around him, you appreciate his company. You’d stay his platonic friend forever if it meant always getting to keep him close like this without the risk of losing him.

“You look beautiful,” he says suddenly to break the silence, prompting you to look at him surprise.

“Thanks, but… you know you don’t have to say stuff like that when the cameras aren’t around.”

“I know,” Bucky reiterates softly while taking your hand in his own, “and I don’t need them around to tell you that.”

Your stomach does a flip, but you ignore the racing of your heart and let out a quiet laugh before asking him if he’s had too much to drink. His smile drops for a moment as he falters, but you watch with piqued interest when he lets out a quiet sigh and shifts so that the space between you lessens.

“I haven’t been honest with you,” he says with a repentant frown, looking down at your intertwined hands contemplatively. You swallow nervously and are unsure of where this conversation could be heading, but it seems like it’s serious.

“What is it, Bucky?”

“I didn’t ask you to be my fake girlfriend because it would be easier to pretend with you. I asked because… well, I knew that I wouldn’t have to convince everyone of something that was already true.”

The air feels like it’s buzzing around you while you process his words; you almost can’t believe what you’re hearing, and a part of you is convinced that maybe you’re just misunderstanding him, but the look of complete love and yearning on his face only solidifies the truth in his words.

“So you’re saying you mean it when you tell those reporters that you love me?” You utter in quiet surprise, eyes sparkling under the moonlight when you meet his gaze. “And that I’m the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen?”

“Every single word,” he murmurs softly, metal hand coming to rest on your cheek. “I have loved every minute of being your boyfriend, and I don’t want that to end after my campaign is up. I want us to be the real deal, sweetheart.”

You bite your lip to hold back a giddy smile and nearly melt into his touch when he brings your face closer to his own so that your noses brush together. He hesitates for only a moment before finally closing the space between you both and kissing you sweetly. Your arms find their way around his neck as he pulls you impossibly close against him and encapsulates you in his warmth. Underneath the moonlight in the garden gazebo, you and Bucky share your first real kiss.

You feel dazed when you finally break apart, your heart beating a mile a minute and only increasing when Bucky flashes you a grin.

“I’ve wanted to do that for ages,” he confesses earnestly before stealing another kiss. “I’m sorry it took me this long to finally tell you.”

“I would have waited forever,” you admit sheepishly, effectively outing yourself as a lovesick fool. You allow yourself to rest your head upon his chest while his arms move to wrap around your figure and encase you against him. The music from inside quietly drifts into the garden, and you hum in contentment as Bucky slowly sways you back and forth.

You know if you don’t move now you’ll miss the cake, but there isn’t a single ounce of your spirit that wishes to leave from this spot. Bucky is finally yours, and you can finally be honest about your feelings with the man you’ve been hopelessly in love with for years.

It seems your only worry now will be having to explain to Sam why you missed his cake cutting.

#mel writes #bucky barnes #sam wilson #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #mcu #marvel #mcu x reader #mcu imagine

3K notes · View notes

paarksunghoon · 3 months ago

Text

resignation | sunghoon

SUMMARY: For the last six years, you’ve dedicated your career to ensuring Park Sunghoon never misses a day of work in his life. But you’re tired of endless days that seem to blend together, and seeing him living his fun, luxurious lifestyle makes you think about what else you might be missing out on. When Sunghoon finds your resignation letter on his desk, he does everything in his power to convince you to stay.

NOTES: desperately need to rant about my life and I’m doing it by way of enhypen 😩 this is a small little chapter and I have no idea if I’m gonna make this a whole thing, but we’ll see. enjoy for now and let me know your thoughts! xx

WARNINGS: none :)

SERIES PLAYLIST + SERIES MASTERLIST

***

Like a bird stuck in a metal cage, you feel trapped in an enclosure that’s meant to prevent you from flying away. That’s what it feels like to work at Park Inc., an international venture capitalist firm that serves Asia and the greater North American and European landscape. Your job is boring and meaningless, and today is the day you decided to do something about it.

Your alarm rings every morning at 5 A.M. on the dot and today is no exception. Since becoming Park Sunghoon’s assistant six years ago, you’ve learned the masterful art of never hitting snooze after hearing an earful from Sunghoon himself when he requested your presence the following hour (you failed to arrive in time and learned to never go back to sleep unless it was your day off).

This life seemed like a dream at the ripe age of twenty-one. Freshly graduated from college with no real career goal in mind, one of your academic mentors suggested entering the workforce as a personal assistant to gain social capital and learn about different areas of industry that could potentially lead you towards a career. Your measly business degree left you feeling unfulfilled and your parents’ aloof demeanor towards the lack of job offers lining up after graduating wasn’t the kind of news you were ecstatic about. You jumped at the chance to work as a personal assistant with the assumption that it would be the kind of job that you could pursue in the meantime until something else came along.

This position at Park Inc. fell into your lap like some kind of dumb luck. The role wasn’t posted on any job site. Rather, your name had been submitted on behalf of your academic advisor, which got you your first interview. You suppose that must be some kind of nepotism. After six separate interviews over the course of three months, the job was yours.

You’d saved up enough money, working the night shift at a local restaurant to afford a rundown apartment and a new office-appropriate wardrobe from the local second hand stores in your neighborhood. Pencil skirts, fashionable blouses, heels that promised to last a long time, and blazers that looked professional enough lined your closets for future use. It was an exciting prospect and starting your new life after graduating university felt like a different ball park than when you were still pursuing your degree.

Despite all of that, you feel listless.

Your days begin before the sun rises and ends just after sunset. Anticipating Sunghoon’s needs is seamless for you, to the point where you’re able to think on his behalf without second guessing yourself. He agrees on most days and doesn’t put up much of a fight when it comes to business matters because you’ve been by his side for over half a decade. You’ve picked him up from many late night rendezvous with women who definitely wanted more than he was willing to give, and you’ve accompanied him to events where he couldn’t bother asking somebody to be his date. You’re his assistant, and therefore you’re always available.

But you’re just the help. You don’t have any real stake in Park Inc., nor does anybody take you seriously unless Sunghoon agrees with your opinion. You know this company inside and out, and you know exactly how Sunghoon envisions this company to succeed. You act like you’re a managing partner without the title because you’re by his side nearly every hour of the day, and it’s gotten to a point where people me either whisper about a silent affair, or look at you with sympathy because Sunghoon can’t seem to function without you.

It was fun, at first. Learning how to stand on your own two feet while leaving everything you knew behind felt exhilarating. Abandoning your hometown to explore the big city was a dream come true, and you envisioned all of the late night food runs you’d go on in an attempt to explore each neighborhood within Seoul. The beginning was tolerable at best—if you count crying in your small apartment after thinking you’d never get the hang of this job—and Sunghoon knew to delegate tasks to you based on experience level. He had you fetch coffee and take care of his dry cleaning in the first few months, on top of organizing multiple reports until you were ready for more. He was kind like that, and you’re sure his willingness to help you in your career was why you stayed for as long as you have.

Six years ago, receiving the amount of responsibility you carry felt like you’d reached the top of the tallest mountain after dreaming of the day Sunghoon could trust you enough to let you do your job without much supervision. You could complete a task for him before he delegated it to you, because you understood his workflow and what needed to be prioritized. The both of you worked well like that, and after six years of getting to know each other, many would say you’re both joined at the hip professionally.

It comes to a point where you learn that the Sunghoon you see is far different than the Sunghoon everybody else sees. He’s naturally funny and a bit clumsy. He’s professional and stoic when he needs to be, but behind closed doors, Sunghoon laughs your ear off about old men who think they can walk all over his business tactics and people who are too rich to see that they’re the problem. Sunghoon is the best boss you’ve ever had, bar none.

He’s unlike any of the wealthy, stuck up assholes you deal with on a daily basis. Sunghoon hides his witty, flirty personality behind a professional face in the eyes of higher ups and investors who he does business with. He keeps his personal and work life separate, as far as he can, with the exception of occasionally letting women he meets accompany him to select events that almost always end up in having to kick them out of his penthouse apartment the morning after if they haven’t left already. His lifestyle is one you’ll never get used to. Even after six years working beside Sunghoon, you go back to your humble one bedroom apartment, the same one you moved into once you were able to afford living without any roommates.

It seems as though life moves for Sunghoon. He doesn’t have to do or say much to get people to fall to their knees or grant his every wish. He’s good looking (that’s something you’ll never deny because he’s objectively handsome), he manages to say all the right things, and he’s really good at his job. Sunghoon comes from a powerful and wealthy family that’s existed in Seoul for as long as anyone can remember, and there aren’t many bad things people say about him behind his back. He’s risky but strategic, gambling on chances that would typically slip through the cracks if not for his watchful eye and modern approach to business.

You’ve learned a lot from him, too. Sunghoon grew into the man he is today. He’s no longer the overly arrogant and cocky person he was when you first met him, and he’s gained a deeper understanding of the company he’s about to inherit once his father transitions his title unto him. There’s much to be said about powerful men who choose to view everybody he works with as an equal, and while you might legally be his personal assistant, Sunghoon has allowed you to partake in the business too. You’ve been his right hand man ever since he realized you knew the company as well as he did. Yet, you can’t help but feel utterly stuck in this endless cycle of work, work, and more work.

There must be something out there for you that doesn’t consist of answering emails and letting your inbox pile up until the stress eats you alive. Being able to travel alongside Sunghoon for business opportunities has granted you a pathway to see the world, but it’s not enough to accompany somebody else. You want to explore the world by yourself and create agendas for your taste and likeliness, not Sunghoon or potential business partners while you sit in the back and take notes during every conversation. You want to live your life without being chained to a desk and learn what it feels like to try something new.

For the past six years, your life has been dedicated to Sunghoon and only Sunghoon.

“Sir?” You say tentatively, knocking on his door while pushing the heavy wooden door open.

“Come in.”

You know well enough he’s got nothing on his schedule that would impose a distraction. You slip into the room and close the door behind you with your fingers gripping a beige Manila folder behind your back. Sunghoon wears a suit that’s tailored to his likeness and his hair is slicked back like he’s trying to resemble Patrick Bateman from American Psycho.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of an unscheduled interruption?” Sunghoon asks with humor in his tone. He knows you typically keep to your inbox unless something is imminently urgent.

He turns around from looking outside of his window and watches as you hesitantly walk towards his desk. The office space is huge, bigger than your entire living room, and the sudden realization that you’re about to make the biggest change of your life is weighing on your shoulders. Your feet feel heavy beneath you when Sunghoon glances between your face and the folder in your hands.

“What’s this?”

You don’t hesitate to open it and put it on his desk facing up.

“My resignation letter.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Sunghoon stares at the letter you’ve typed out and notices the large, black signature at the bottom of the page. His eyes flicker back at you as if to detect any lie in your face before he scoffs with a short laugh.

“Right. April Fool’s Day has already passed. No need to keep me on my toes like you usually do, though I appreciate a good joke.”

You shake your head. “I’m being serious, Sir. I’m quitting.”

The seriousness of your voice seems to catch him. He takes a seat on his leather chair and pulls himself closer to the desk to fully examine the letter.

“Dear Mr. Park, I am writing to inform you that I will be resigning from my position as your personal assistant at Park Incorporated. My final day will be two months from the day I hand you this resignation letter. I am committed to ensuring a smooth transition, and will facilitate seeking a replacement while I complete projects and tasks on my docket.”

He looks up at you.

“You’re breaking up with me.”

“No, I’m quitting this job.”

“Which is the same as breaking up with me. You’re my business partner, for God’s sake. You come with me to every meeting and important event that requires my presence.”

“I’m your assistant. There are many people who would die to be able to do that for you.”

He looks at you like you’ve set his office on fire. “I will not let you quit.”

You tilt your head. “That’s not how it works, you know. Soobin from HR will process my resignation, even if you beg him not to. I’m giving you a two months' notice because that is how much I value my time here.” Sunghoon clasps his hands as if trying to make sense of the matter.

“But why? Why now? You’re impeccable at your job. Is the pay not suitable enough for you? I can give you a generous bonus and pay raise, if that will convince you to stay. Do you want a bigger office or reduced working hours?”

“I don’t need any of that. I’ve made up my mind, Sir.”

“Why?”

With a sigh, you sit down in front of him. “I’ve spent nearly every day for the last six years catering to the needs of you and this company. I’ve loved my time here, and I credit my ability to navigate this industry to you and this job. You’ve given me incredible opportunities that I probably wouldn’t have gotten elsewhere, and it’s been fun learning the ins and outs of this business.

“But I don't have a personal life at all. My days are spent catering to your needs. I don’t have many friends aside from the people I see in this building. I don’t travel and I’ve had to miss important family milestones because of work obligations.”

“Is more time off what you need?” Sunghoon interrupts. “You’ve earned your fair share of requested time offs, even if it’s a personal day for no reason. You’re responsible enough for me to know you can handle your workload when you get back.”

You shake your head. “It’s not just that. I…I don’t meet new people anymore. I don’t make new friends and I don’t date because this job eats up my life. I feel like I’ve been wrapped up in this company and doing whatever it takes to help it succeed while neglecting my own needs. I’ve had six incredible years, but it’s time for me to move on.”

“…Date?”

With a sigh, you respond. “Yes, Sir. Just because you can find women at the snap of your fingers doesn't mean that everybody else can too.”

“You don’t date at all?”

You scratch the inside of your wrist at his question. “I can’t date. I don’t have the time to.”

“So you’re quitting because you want to date.”

“No. I’m quitting because I want to experience life without being on call for when you need my help.”

Sunghoon purses his lips and you can’t read his expression. In the years you’ve worked with him, learning his every mood has been critical to maintaining cordial balance between the two of you, and with other people who Sunghoon isn’t particularly fond of. You’ve extinguished emotional fires just by glancing at him, but the way he looks at you is something you can’t seem to figure out.

While you wouldn’t say you’re exceptionally close with Sunghoon, you’d argue your relationship to him is far closer than other assistants in the firm. He might be hard headed and stubborn, but he’s compassionate and understanding. He doesn’t expect you to stay in the office until he leaves unless explicitly stated (which consists of half the week, but you can’t complain when some of your colleagues are constantly working longer days than you).

He compensates you well from time to time, buying you new wardrobe for events he’s requested you to be at. You have a drawer full of exquisite jewelry. You’ve had the privilege of accompanying him on international business trips. From the outside, your life looks like one glamour shot that’s been afforded to you through diligent work, which is partially true, but seldom do people see the dark circles underneath your eyes or how many meals you skip because you need to cater to Sunghoon’s needs.

For as lucky as your career has been thus far, it’s all on company time, and nothing is ever because you want to. You get the perks, but it’s a transaction. There’s nothing you want more than the freedom to choose what time you wake up and what time you go to bed.

“I can’t say I’m too happy with this news,” Sunghoon says as he leans back on his chair. “You and I work together really well. I don’t think I’ve ever had an assistant as diligent and as smart as you.”

“You had three assistants before I came into the picture.”

“They were terrible. Why did you think you went through six interviews?”

“I can train my predecessor to be as excellent as I can be. I can do it in two months because that’s the time it took me to get used to you and your habits.”

Sunghoon remains silent for a moment.

“They’ve got big shoes to fill.”

Part of you thinks he’s accepted your resignation. He doesn’t immediately grab the Manila folder with the papers in it. Rather, he closes it and keeps it shut on his desk with his hands clasped like he’s afraid it’s going to materialize and escort you out of his office.

“You’re still needed for events and other internal-facing meetings until your time comes to an end.”

“Of course, Sir.”

The corner of his mouth tugs upwards. “There’s one tonight. I wasn’t going to have you come to this one initially, but given the circumstances, I think it’s fair that we squeeze in as many as possible before you’re off the hook, no?”

You can’t say you’re incredibly excited by the idea, but knowing Sunghoon, he’s either forgotten he needs someone to act as arm candy or one of his many flings bailed on him at the last minute.

“I’ll have my car pick you up from your apartment at 8 P.M. Don’t worry about checking in early tomorrow, either. Come in at nine instead, and get some sleep tonight.”

Nine is still early, especially if you’re going to accompany Sunghoon to an event this evening, but it’s better than getting four hours of shut eye before you’re needed the next day.

***

A section of your wardrobe is dedicated to items Sunghoon has gifted you throughout the years you’ve been with him. They’re far more expensive and of higher quality than the garments you buy for yourself, and the jewelry is far too precious for you to mix in with your everyday wear. They sit in their own designated section, away from your business attire and weekend wear.

Back when you started this position, Sunghoon found it amusing that you refused the luxurious gifts he’d offer for large tasks such as acting as a liaison at black tie events or helping him with projects that required you to look more presentable than remaining in an office. He bought you enough dresses, shoes, and jewelry until you were able to rotate a few pieces so that you’d never have to wear the same thing twice in a row. To assuage your mind about the prices of each item, Sunghoon would tell you to wear it out on a date with a special someone or to important events that required you to dress up a bit.

When you pull out a sleek baby blue powder dress that hugs your body in all the right places and jewelry to match, the memory makes you laugh. There hasn’t been any time for engaging in those types of things and your life does not reflect that of Sunghoon’s. They gather dust in your closet until you’re needed to make an appearance as his well-trained, capable assistant. His colleagues know to defer to you unless Sunghoon’s word needs to be confirmed, and that’s how the dynamic has been for the entirety of your working relationship with him.

You don’t put much effort into your appearance tonight. After touching up your makeup and slipping on a pair of black sling backs that match a black Italian clutch purse he had gifted you on your first international trip, you wait for the car to arrive at your doorstep.

Surprisingly, Sunghoon steps out from the backseat and holds the door open for you.

“…Sir?”

“Right on time. You look stunning.”

His compliment flies over your head as you try to make sense of what you’re seeing. You’re used to meeting Sunghoon at the fairgrounds and not holding the door open for you in his personal mode of transportation. The only time the two of you arrive together is when you depart from the office. Sunghoon is a busy man who makes work his priority. He doesn’t escort you from place to place. That’s your job.

“What are you doing here?”

He beckons you inside of the car. The partition is raised to give the two of you some privacy. Sunghoon slides into the backseat and puts a respectable distance between the two of you when the driver begins to drive away.

“It dawned on me that I rely you on you for so many things, and yet, I can’t seem to take an hour of my day to ride with you to events I’ve asked you to be at.”

“It’s my job.”

“No, your job is to make sure I don’t lose my head.”

“If letting you work while I drive alone makes your head stay on your shoulders, I think that’s a job well done.”

He purses his lips. “Still, I don’t think ending my workday early to pick you up will kill me.” You raise your eyebrow at him.

“This isn’t changing my mind, Sir. I still plan to leave the company.”

Sunghoon shrugs. “Worth a try. But I meant what I said about accompanying you. We’re a team, even if your position is just my assistant.”

“Sir—”

“Sunghoon,” he interrupts. “Call me Sunghoon.”

“...Sunghoon.” He smiles.

“That’s more like it.”

***

will there be a part 2? who knows

#enhypen x reader #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x reader #enha x reader #kpop x reader #park sunghoon fanfiction #park sunghoon fluff #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon angst #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #sunghoon #fic: resignation #my writing*

2K notes · View notes