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angelisverba · 1 year

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bug

in which harry is spider-man, and y/n happens to be at the wrong place, at the wrong time

word count: 4k~

pairing: spiderman!h and y/n

warnings: sexual assault. danger. angst. kissing. grinding. kinda mask kink?

author's note: i know i said i was gonna work on florist... but let's be honest, when have i ever done what i said i was going to do? he just grabbed me by the throat okay? i'm sorry.

Harry… he’s not like everyone else.

He does things he doesn’t always enjoy doing, but he does them because he has to. Because if he doesn’t, then who will? These aren’t things he can hide, and he’s judged for them. Not everyone likes what he does.

But it’s fine. It’s part of the job.

Being Spider-Man isn’t easy.

The moment he was aware of what he could do, Harry accepted his fate of fighting crime, defending those that couldn’t with superhuman abilities which came from the bite of a radioactive spider at the lab he interned for.

He felt so alone, so alienated under the harsh newspaper headlines that labeled him a demon, a criminal, a havoc, that sometimes he wondered what separated him from the bad guys he caught so violently with. It was a struggle to keep in mind his end goal: keep his city safe. To fight for good. To protect.

Some nights, like tonight, he was so numbed by the repetitive nature of his days, the brutal fighting over and over again that seems to never end, that as he stooped on the ledge of a tall building, he wanted so carelessly to damn it all to hell. Why him? Why, why, why?

Harry was tired, having not slept more than eight hours in the past week, and he the strain on his senses is noticeable. Every sound makes his breath catch in anticipation, any movement agitating his hyperfocused irises. He felt like a thread pulled tight. So tight, he was beginning to fray, to snapping. Normally, the suit he wears goes unnoticed. But tonight? He felt it on every inch of his skin. Harry wanted to rip it off.

He’s playing with the fabric, snapping it against his skin, when he hears it.

“No, please. I don’t have any money, please stop touching me, I’m begging you.”

The voice was female. Sweet and innocent, but filled with fear. It didn’t sound right. He swung off in the direction of the yelps before he even knew what he was doing, why he was doing what he was doing.

“Oh, we know that,” a man laughed and there was a rustle telltale of struggle. He was a drunk, Harry knew by the phlegm in his tone, “you’ve got something much better than money.”

He was getting closer by the second, could almost feel his webs sticking to the girl’s assailant. All the fatigue from earlier melted off him as he entered the necessary headspace to fight someone.

“Stop it! Stop! You’re hurting me!” The mystery girl was crying now, panic taking full control of her voice.

“Quit moving, girl!” Harry could tell by the increased scuffling that her attacker was getting frustrated, his movements more aggressive.

He was a blue of red and blue as he swung into the alley where a large bearded man had cornered and was pawing a young girl. He saw flashes of skin and clothing, and didn’t hesitate to kick the man off her.

“She told you to stop,” he chastised. The webs shot out of his wrist at their own accord, wrapping around the man’s ankles and wrists and clamping over his mouth. He was on the floor now, thrashing and trying to regain some sort of balance, but Harry knew he had fully incapacitated him.

The dim light leaking in from the flickering street lamp sprayed on the girl as she crouched in the corner, shivering with wide, wet eyes, and Harry’s heart broke.

“It’s all right now, sweetheart,” he said softly so he wouldn’t scare her anymore than she already was. He knew what the media thought of him.

She flinched at the sound of his voice, so he tried again, “I’m not going to hurt you-“

A loud grunt interrupted him, and a prickly feeling of irritation ran down his spine and jerked him into action. Harry picked the man up by the collar, grumbled out a shut up, motherfucker and knocked him out cold with a punch.

“Sorry about that,” he huffed once the man slumped down silently, “did he hurt you?”

The girl tilted her wobbly chin up, and it felt as though he had fallen from the tallest building in the city and smacked down on the ground back first, all the breath from his body vanished. She shook her head and shivered again, sniffling.

“What’s your name?” Harry asked, whispering. Hoping that the smile hiding underneath his mask was audible.

“Y/n,” she peeped, side-eyeing him like she was testing him, “and yours?”

He chuckled, the sound low in his throat, “you know my name.” It wasn’t a question, but y/ nodded anyway. He thought the name was cute, fitting. He thought she was cute even in her disheveled state. Hair a flurry around her, her eyes rimmed with red and her cheeks pink from the chill of night. “Say it.”

It came out like a prayer from her lips, and he’s sure that he wouldn’t have heard it if it weren’t for his superhuman hearing. A thrill ran though him, his body tensing as if preparing to fight “Spider-man.”

“That’s right,” his nod was a mere chin dip. He cocked his head, crouched low so they were at an even height. “Are you scared of me?”

“No.”

“Good. How ‘bout I take you home? Spider-style.” He sprung up and held out his hand, waiting, hoping, for her to take it.

She was tender in his palm, soft. Wrapping his hand around hers securely, he helped her to her feet and slung a web towards the bags she had dropped in the midst of her fighting. She tried to pull back, but Harry held her still and shook his head.

“This won’t work if we’re not touching, you that right?”

He watched as the realization set in, her eyes widening and her pouty lips parting.

“We’re-?” She gestured loosely at him and the buildings, and he chuffed. Yeah, she was cute.

“Yes. We are. Unless you want to walk?”

“No.”

“Good. Come closer. Closer,” she steps timidly forward until her mary janes are touching the tips of his booted feet. “I’m going to grab you now,” he warned.

“Okay-“ looping an arm around her waist, he clutched her close. She was cold, smaller than him. Y/n was shaking, her heart beating fast. He could tell that she was still running high on adrenaline, and that it would only spike further.

“Where do you live?”

She rattled an address he recognized as one of the semi-safer parts of the city.

“Ready?”

He doesn’t wait for the full yes to leave her mouth, and together they leave the ground. They swung between buildings, Harry reveling in the way she held on to him and squealed in his ear. It felt a lot like sharing, and when she laughed, he felt a little less lonely for the first time since all this happened.

When they land on her fire escape, he tries not to think about how erotic it feels to have her slide down the front of his body, or how her palms glide down his chest. Or how her breath hitches when he involuntary leans forwards.

Instead he holds on tight to her goodbye, letting her sweetly mumbled “night, spidey” lull him to sleep when he gets home.

And that was the first time they met.

****

The next time, it’s burglars.

It’s two guys in ski masks throwing bricks through the glass window of a romance bookstore, and a shrill scream that halts everything to a stop and sends him leaping down and swinging from light poles to get to the shop. The sun isn’t even all the way down yet.

And Harry knows she’s there. His sense doesn’t pick up on people, but he knows because a funny feeling kicks it’s way through his gut and his heart beats a little faster.

These guys have empty backpacks and thick jackets, heavy duty boots. Briefly, it occurs to Harry that out of all the places to rob, this is the most stupid.

But it doesn’t matter how stupid the crime is, because it’s still dangerous, and she’s still in danger.

From his vantage point behind the guys that didn’t even hear him land, he can see that y/n has taken a place behind the register and is on the phone- with the cops most likely. There aren’t any customers inside because- as the signs on the door says- they had just closed. So it’s just her.

Harry waits for them to actually trespass (another crime to keep them behind bars) before actually doing anything. He shoots a web at one of the guys feet and another at his hands quickly, silently. The first, now on the floor, is yelling so that his partner, deeper in the store, gets a warning.

“Fucking get the girl, Sly!” He shouts.

Sly, the other guy in the store, takes one look over his shoulder and does as he was told. He jumps at y/n, and suddenly there’s a gun in his hand.

Suddenly, Harry can’t breathe because it’s pressed against y/n’s temple. She’s in a chokehold at his chest, clawing at a meaty bicep and choking back tears of fear.

“Now, Sly,” he held his hands out in front of him and slowly walked forward. “There’s no need for all this. Let the girl go.”

“Shut up! Shut up! I need to think,” Sly’s eyes were wide beneath his mask. He’s frazzled and huffy and Harry’s so scared he’s going to act irrationally. His senses are peaked, eyes tracking every minuscule movement in search of an opening. Y/n is trying to make eye contact with him (or at least as much as she can through the mask) to gain some kind of reassurance, and it’s crushing him that he can’t look at her.

Sly fucks up, using the gun to scratch his head while thinking, and Harry steps in, webbing his hand to the nearest fixture in a move that knocks the weapon out of his hand. The other however, is still around y/n, so he’s running forward to snatch her away while he’s busy glancing at his hand.

Once she’s safely deposited on the side somewhere- and he doesn’t miss the way her hands follow him as he falls away, as if mourning the loss of his touch- Harry eagerly pummels the guy.

“Fuck you and you’re thinking,” he grits out, clocking him once, twice, and three times before he’s unconscious on the floor.

His chest is heaving, his fist flexing out from its clench. Turning and stepping over the body, he asks, “Are you alright, y/n?”

“You remembered my name,” she said. She stood up, walking towards him as he did the same. They’re chest to chest, and she lifts a hand. Trying to touch him.

But he can’t bear it. Can’t bear her touching him because he knows it’ll break him. So he catches the and holds it mid-air. Tries to appease her by combing her hair back with his free hand, and it works.

“‘Course I did, sweetheart,” he’s taken by the way she leans into his touch, nuzzling his hand like a puppy. In a trance almost, one that’s broken by the distant screech of cops. “I have to go.”

He lets her go, and- “Spider-man, wait!”

But he couldn’t wait, the sirens were just around the corner.

****

The third time it’s by accident, and she doesn’t even know it’s him.

The brush shoulders at a coffee shop, and the distinct smell of her perfume making turn around, like those cartoons with the pie, to watch her walk down the street through the window. Harry is mesmerized by the swing of her hips and is surprised by his Victorian fascination over the swish of her skirt against her ankles. Teasing. She has a tote bag slung on her shoulders, and a book in one hand while the other brings her iced tea to her lips. His eyes lock on her tongue swiping up a droplet of her drink, and his teeth clench. He can’t do this. Not with her. He can’t lust after her. She’s too sweet.

He frowns and shakes his head because she’s reading while walking, and in the city that’s just begging for an accident.

He glances down at the title.

And then he goes to buy it at the bookstore she works at.

****

So it’s the fourth time now. Not even two days after he saw her at the coffee shop. And again, she doesn’t know it’s him.

He understands why she got hired at the pink romance store. He’s walking around like a creep, an isle over as she makes her way through the customers, asking if they need help and recommending her favorites (all of which he memorizes) or whatever might fit their inquiries. Her voice sweeter than all the times he had previously heard it. She has a very interesting way of talking about sex in books, very innocent. And suddenly, Harry realizes she isn’t.

He finds the book she was walking around with the other day, and is flipping through it when she stumbles upon him.

“Oh!” she stutters, skirting to a stop and glancing down at what’s in his hands. He keeps his gaze locked in her face, notices the way her skin flushes when she notices what he’s holding, and how she struggles to maintain eye contact with him as she says, “that one is- it’s uh- really good.”

Just to fuck with her, he tucks the novel under his arm and cocks a hip against the shelf. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yep.” She rolls her lips in her mouth and flicks her eyes over to the shelf next to him, then back to the book under his arm and her face turns red.

Harry attempts to hide his smirk, and fails. “Got any other ones you liked as much as this one?”

Nodding, “A few.”

“Great, I’ll take them.”

She rings him up, bright red, and stutters her way through a conversation about what it’s like to work here, if it’s safe, if the rumor about the robbery was true.

And he’s so, so pleased, when she said, “spider-man took care of me,” with the dreamiest smile dawning on her angelic face.

****

The fifth time he can’t stop thinking about her.

He’s incredibly surprised at her explicit choice of reading material.

Two out of the three novels explore mask kinks.

Who do they both know wears a mask?

Him.

In the novel she was so caught up in she couldn’t even put it down as she was walking down the street, the female heroine is rescued my a masked vigilante whom she later has very kinky sex with. Mask included.

And… well, Harry just can’t but think that it’s such a coincidence that she picks up this book after their interaction. That she’s so consumed by it she can’t leave it alone, not even while she’s walking, and then she blushes at the mere mention of his name. Could it possibly be that… she was thinking of him?

No.

No it couldn’t be.

She was too… too sweet to be reading this absolutely filthy things. Too pretty.

He’s confused, and maybe that’s why he finds himself pacing the roof of the building across from her in the dead of night, staring at her fire escape like a total weirdo. The newspapers would have a field day with what he was doing, and y/n would run for the hills screaming if she knew what he was thinking about.

Flashes of all the indecent things he wanted to do to her ran through his mind like a torture montage. His head between her thighs with only the bottom half of his mask pulled up. Kissing her while she’s completely naked, sitting in his lap while he’s still totally dressed in his suit.

He wanted to-

There was a flicker of light at the window he knew was hers, and everything in him stilled. He watched like a peeping tom as y/n opened her window and crawled onto the fire escape. She was in a flimsy pair of shimmery shorts and a t-shirt that just barely grazed her belly button.

She wasn’t wearing a bra, and from his vantage point he could see the peaks of her nipples poking against the fabric, taunting him.

Harry groaned, low in his throat.

And then she looked at him.

Eyes wide, lips parted, her hands clenching and unclenching against her thighs that were pressed together and-

A breeze swept through in his direction, and carried the scent of arousal.

Her arousal.

She mouthed hi.

And then he was on her fire escape, standing right in front of her. His body was tense, ready to spring into action. Silently, he crouched at the opposite end of her, the space between them small on the rickety fixture.

“Spider-man,” she whispered, as if testing the waters. There was an eagerness in her tone, and Harry had an idea of why that was. He felt it too, hard in his cock.

“Hello, y/n,” he rasped.

“What are you doing here?”

“You know. You know why I’m here.” He tilted his head and beckoned her, “come. Sit.” Harry pointed at his thighs, and sluggishly, y/n got up and straddled him. He could feel her thighs quivering around him, weak from nerves or lack of balance, so he placed his hands on her hips and guided her so their centers aligned, and they were looking right at each other’s face.

“I don’t understand,” her lips were pouty, shiny under the mooonlight. He wanted to bite them until they were swollen.

“Don’t lie,” he pinched her thigh in punishment and then soothed it with a soft caress. “Lift up my mask.”

Her shaking hands crept up his chest, feeling, and he groaned, absently thrusting up into her. She gasped, but her hands continued to move, wrapping delicately around his throat in search of the seam. When she found it, she pulled the mask up, but stopped so it rested at the bridge of his nose. Just as he knew she would.

Chilly fingers skittered on the line of his jaw, over his lips. Her eyes dazed, memorizing, “What’s going on?”

“Will you do as I say, y/n?”

“Yes.”

Their mouths came together in a rush, wet and lacking any order. Like they were picking back up in the middle of a make-out session. She tasted like mint, cool and fresh and dulcet. Her tongue was timid, submissive to his, but equally as curious. His teeth grazed her lips, and she purred. Her core felt molten hot even through his suit, and he knew without even having to touch her that she was so wet for him.

Harry pulled back and rested his forehead against hers, their chests heaving as they greedily suck in air, “take what you want from me. I’ll give it to you. But don’t ask questions. And don’t take off my mask. Understand, sweetheart?”

“Mhm.”

“Good. Now sit,” to emphasize, he pushes her down on his thick cock and rubs her back and forth, “in my lap and grind your sweet little pussy on me until you come.”

Y/n flushes at his vulgarity, and leans back in to kiss him, her hands finding purchase on his shoulders as she begins to move just how he showed her. The weight of her pussy on him engulfed him, and as she dragged up against him, slowing down and pausing at the head of his dick and swiveling so he could feel her clit, stars exploded behind his clenched eyes. Y/n was already whimpering, hot mouthfuls of air puffing into his mouth so it was clear she wasn’t breathing right. He pulls back and dips his head so he’s able to kiss down her throat and to her chest, bringing his mouth to the plushy mouth of her tits.

“That’s it,” he praises against her nipple, “that’s it, sweet girl, you’re almost there.”

Her moans fill the air, increasing and climbing until she shatters and Harry fucks up against her like it’s the real thing. A wet spot darkens the front of her panties, and he’s sticky inside his suit. They’re both spent, heaving as they clutch each other on the fire escape.

Y/n nuzzles against him, “will you come back?”

“I’ll try, sweetheart,” he whispers kissing her forehead and standing with her in his arms so he can place her safely back inside.

He doesn’t follow, doesn’t cross the threshold.

Because if he does, their night won’t end just yet.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles blurbs #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x yn

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newfallstrangeleaves · 1 year

Text

Yandere with a unknown identity

A helping hand

Yandere policeman x F!reader Warning: Manipulation, mentions of not believing the victim. Summary: Right after your encounter with the masked man (This part), you head out and find yourself with an officer who strongly feels that he should be the one to help you.

The masked man had just left when it dawned on you what happened. Violated and angry you grab the money he left behind and hurry down to whatever garbage chute you could find. You had barely time to put your clothes on before you were out the door. It's late and only the sound of your footsteps can be heard.

It's first when you step outside of the apartment building and the cold air hits you that you come to your senses. Today has been horrible and it seems that your bad luck is not over yet. Considering your options you come to the conclusion that you don't want to stay and the walk to one of your friends' apartments is not long. You sigh as you know you will have to tell her what happened. Something you don't initially want, but what other options do you really have?

You dont walk for long before a police car spots you. You can imagine how odd you must look walking around with a stack of money and dressed in your pajamas.

The two officers consist of a tall rather young man and a middle aged plump woman. With the lack of anything else to tell them, you explain what has happened to you. The unfiltered truth as to where you got the money from and why you are out on the streets dressed so poorly. Both the man and woman listen intently to your story and when you are done the woman says.

“Okay, listen, we will solve this. I just have to make a call to the surrounding officers. But Kenny will keep an eye on you, understand?” The plump woman tells you before she returns to the car. Her face is turned away from the both of you as she talks into the comms. A minute goes by in silence. Then two. Then five and she is still talking. For every minute passing worry grows.

Then around the corner speeds another police car in and stops on the other side of the road. A young blond man jumps out, his uniform looks slightly untidy as if he had just thrown them on. He gives a nod to Kenny before he heads for the woman in the car. They talk quietly for a moment before he walks up to the both of you.

“I'll take over from here officer McCall.” I can't help but feel like Kenny is letting out a sigh of relief as he heads back to the car. Before they drive off the woman rolls down her window and tells you.

“If you need more help, ask for Officer Reese.” You nod to her before they drive off. The man beside you lets out a sigh and nods in the direction that they drove off at.

“Some officers truly need more than just reprimands.” He says and shakes his head.

“What do you mean?”

“I'm going to be truly honest with you. Officer Reese had not so good intentions regarding how to handle your little…issue. But I won't go into detail about that.” He takes a deep breath before he places a hand on your shoulder and continues. “And the other officers won't help you either, I know how shallow they can be. But I want to help.”

“Her, Officer Reese, she won't help me? I thought…”

“She just said that to make you feel better. In reality she was talking about the loony bin over the comms.”

Your stomach turns at his words and you have to turn away, just to gather yourself.

“But I will help.” He continues.

“You would?”

“Yes, but I think it's better if we keep it between us two, are you fine with that?” You nod and take a deep breath to try and keep your emotions together.

“Good, how about I drive you back to your apartment and you tell me in detail everything that happened.”

“I… I don't know if I want to be at home right now.” You say hesitantly.

“Don't worry, honey. I'm patrolling these streets and I'll make sure no man gets even close to you.” He says and places his arm around you. “Aren't you cold? Come let's continue talking in the car.” He says as he leads you to his car.

“Well, if you're helping, do you have any access to something that you could find fingerprints with?”

“Eh, sure, but what are you going to use that for?” He asks as he leads you over the street.

“For these, I thought maybe you could get his fingerprints, oh well, mine will be here too, but…” He laughs and carefully takes the money from you.

“If you don't want to use it for yourself then sure I can have a look.”

“Oh and by the way. I never caught your name.”

“It's Robert, Officer Robert Finch.”

#male yandere #yandere x you #yandere #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere oc #tw yandere #yandere police #yandere policeman

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 1 year

Text

snowfall

summary: when she’s young and in between foster families, she meets a scrawny kid named Simon. Simon sits to the side while the other kids play, and she gives him her sandwich. When he leaves, forced to go back to his dad, she feels bad for him.

Then, when she gets older, she realizes that Simon was the lucky one. He made it out.

notes: based on the song snowfall, bc I’ve been listening to it and thinking about this fic a lot lately

warnings: mentions of abuse, human trafficking and childhood trauma. Violence. Allusions to smut? Afab!reader

taglist: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins (hmu to be added to any taglist!)

masterlist | requests are OPEN!

You’re back to square one, where you always end up when a foster family lets you go. A big, grey house that was built in the sixties and not once painted afterwards, that’s square one. Makeshift beds and damp rooms, showers that smell of piss and food that has the consistency of cardboard.

The house is so terrible on the inside that everyone flees into the parking lot, a barely better place to be. In the dirt-poor areas of Manchester, it’s all anyone can ask for. The younger kids play with chalk or run around, chasing each other, while the ones your age pass cigarettes and other stuff to each other.

None of you know each other’s names, but you’ve all seen each other in passing. Kids that were left on their own, that don’t trust easy won’t talk to each other either. Not really.

It’s rare to see a new face, so the teen sitting off to the side while the others talk catches you by surprise.

He’s massively tall already, but scrawny as hell, his hair in the awkward stage between short and being grown out. His eyes flit around, meeting no one else’s.

“Haven’t seen you before.” You greet, and he barely looks up. You offer him your name, and he pauses before he responds.

“Simon.” He says finally. There’s a short silence, broken by his rumbling stomach, and you hand him your sandwich without thinking twice. You’re not a big fan of tomatoes. He hesitates, inspecting it before he takes a bite. He barely nods as you tell him you don’t like tomatoes, and you doubt he even heard you.

“What are you doing here? Never seen you before.” You attempt, trying to make conversation. He shrugs in response, and you don’t pry further.

Simon sticks to you like glue in the days afterwards, a silent shadow that towers over you. Timmy, a kid that joined a gang after feeling overly confident, tries to approach you twice, but apparently, Simon’s glower is more intimidating than his stature.

After a week and a half, a social worker interrupts a game of Uno between you and Simon, pulling him away for a conversation. That usually means one of two things: going home, or going to a family of strangers.

You never get to find out which one it is, because Simon doesn’t say goodbye. You tell yourself that he made it home, or at least made it out. He seems like the type.

***

Against your hopes, and in line with all odds, you don’t make it out. Bouncing between foster families leaves you frustrated, angry and alone. A recipe for disaster, and you know it. Two years after Simon left the grey house that smelled like a germaphobe’s nightmare, you did as well.

Barely eighteen, with no one to back you up and not a single penny on your name, that went to shit quicker than you might have thought, and you found yourself exactly where you did not want to end up: the crime scene of Manchester.

It started off with little favors. Timmy convinced you. He said it wasn’t hard to sell drugs. That you’d only have to do it a few times, and then you’d have enough money to start yourself off with a real job. Something honest.

Something that would finally get you some real security. A sense of permanence.

Over the years, little favors turned into bigger favors.

Timmy, of course, didn’t know batshit about anything, and he certainly did not care to look into things more than he had to for you. And by the time your idiot, barely not-adolescent brain realized that, you were in too deep.

You’d done everything wrong, because selling drugs for a few days ‘wouldn’t hurt anyone’.

That was how you ended up as the cliché character of anti-everything prevention movies they showed you, back in the grey house. Abused, beaten-up, trafficked, sold, and not even out of your twenties.

Each time you thought about it, you wanted to laugh at yourself, to try and stop yourself from missing the gray house and the exhausted social workers that weren’t paid enough to care for any of you.

Just this time, you couldn’t go back to the gray house. You weren’t a child anymore. This time, people came for you to make sure that you’d pay them back what you owed them. Technically, what Timmy owed them.

They, whoever they were, took you away from Manchester, the only semblance of home you’d ever known. You found yourself in an abandoned cargo hall, freezing cold. From what you could see, it was snowing outside, the chill creeping inside. The girl next to you was out like a light, either from drugs, exhaustion, the cold, or a combination of all three.

You could make peace with the fact that you would never get out. You could just accept it, like you’d accepted everything else in your life. A voice in your head screamed that it wasn’t fair, and it felt like that scream was becoming more and more real. There was a ridiculous notion in the back of your mind, telling you to get up.

It bled into the screech from the gates of the cargo hall, protesting as they were opened. Your captors pointed their guns, but thick, white smoke filled the building, and you felt yourself become suddenly sleepy.

The last thing you saw were shadowy figures storming the hall, gunfire ringing out, smoke filling your nose and mouth.

***

When you came to, the smoke had dissipated, but you were still in the cargo hall. A group of men in camouflage walked around the hall, checking the men that were lying on the floor. One of them approached you and the others.

Almost automatically, you slinked backwards, out of his reach, but he gave you a soft smile.

He was young, too young to be in a place like this, with a sweet expression on his face that felt too saccharine to belong in the midst of this violence.

“I’m Gaz.” He said. “I’m with the British army, and we’re here to take you home. Are you hurt?”

Varying reactions came from the people around you, and you felt yourself numbly nodding. Home. Had a God heard your prayer and then decided to turn it into a joke?

The doctors arrived a while later, taking a look at everyone that had been with you. Some of the girls around you were drug addicts, and going into withdrawal was never pretty. The cargo hall quickly filled with the stench of vomit and cold sweat, but it meant that you got the time to look at the men that had stormed the hall. A gruff man with sideburns, a Scot with a mohawk that was chattering away with Gaz and-

He was hulking, a mountain that wore a skull instead of a face. You’d never met someone like him in your life, but he paused when he saw you, and you knew that he’d seen you before, this behemoth of a man.

***

It takes two more days before you’re back in England, but it doesn’t feel like a homecoming. Some of the girls have people waiting for them, parents, children, boyfriends, girlfriends to run into their arms and hold. Some are like you. No one comes, and they leave on their own.

You want to follow them. You can’t go back to Manchester. You’ll only return for your papers, if those still exist, and then you’ll leave.

You’re about to finally lift your feet from the cold, concrete floor when you feel a pair of eyes burning into your back.

Turning around, you see it’s the one they call Ghost. He’s standing off to the side, and it reminds you of something. You can’t figure out what it is, even though you try so so hard to just remember.

“Thank you for getting us out of there.” You blurt out, and he looks like he wants to say something, his jaw almost cramping together as he makes a tiny movement. You think it’s towards you.

“I owed you for the sandwich.” He says. The shrug looks forced, and you know that he can’t bring himself to say something more honest. “No tomatoes, of course.”

The seconds it takes you to understand seem to tick by outside of your brain, like a clock hammering with each moment passed. Then, your jaw falls slack.

“Simon?” you ask, too loudly, and the Scot named Soap snaps his head around to stare at you.

He doesn’t reply, and he doesn’t have to. You recognize his height, his eyes, the awkward standing off to the side so suddenly that it hits you like a fucking train. How couldn’t you see it before?

This is Simon. The kid that-

“You left without saying fucking anything!” you accuse, and you’re sure the others think you’re exes.

He just nods, and that almost infuriates you. But he made it out. He made something of himself, and you have to respect that. It’s all you want, always slipping away from your grasp, and Simon got it. Carved it out for himself, by the looks of it.

And finally, after an eternity, Simon steps forward and holds out a bag with the yellow-and-green subway logo on it.

“Hope you like it.” He mumbles, and it’s an almost adorable gesture. There’s no tomatoes, as he promised. Someone remembered something from your childhood.

You take the bag, and then you take the step separating you and hug him tightly. Are you overstepping a boundary? Is he going to push you off roughly?

He doesn’t hug you back, but he does allow you to wrap your arms around him (or, as much as you can do that with his new size).

His teammates stare, but you don’t let go. Not for a while.

“You got a place to stay?” he asks, when the others have gotten over the shock of your interaction. There’s genuine concern in his eyes, and a part of you hopes that you’re special in this, because you helped him too. Somehow.

“McDonalds is always open, and I’ve got…” you reach into your pocket, finding a crumpled note. “Enough for a large drink.”

He shakes his head. He offers his apartment, his home up to you and you should say no because he could traffic you, or rape you, or hurt you just enough to make you drag yourself back to Timmy.

You get into the car with him, and your mind screams danger. Your gut’s feeling alright though, so you ignore it.

The first change beyond the obvious of his massive frame that you notice is that he’s gotten even quieter. While you drag yourself up the dark staircase with some effort, he stays true to his name, not a single scrape coming from his combat boots.

In the apartment, he switches on the light, and you take in the spartan interior. A small kitchen, a sofa, a TV, a coffeetable with a mug still on it. No dinnertable, but three pictures on the refrigerator.

A young boy, a woman that reminds you of the younger Simon (maybe his mother?) and his teammates. Gaz, Soap, the older guy, two men that you don’t recognize, standing in scenery that looks almost tropical.

He lets you stare, before he quietly shows you the bathroom. You let the lock click behind you, even though you know that wouldn’t make much of an obstacle for the person he’s become.

You shower as quickly as you can, slipping back into your underwear. You hesitate for a moment, and then you grab the big, fluffy bathrobe hanging over the towel rack. Someone had vomited on your shirt, and you refused to put it on again.

The robe was too big for you, black with white skulls on it, and you highly doubted that Simon had bought it for himself. Maybe the Scot that cracked jokes with, or rather at him, had bought it for him and he’d caved to using it.

When you walked out, Simon was pulling clean sheets over the bed in his bedroom. He lifted his head when he heard you, and even through the balaclava, you knew he was lifting a brow at you.

“You’re wearing Soap’s bathrobe.” He commented.

“Someone vomited on my shirt.”

Simon did not reply, but he did turn around to rummage in his closet, throwing you one of his old shirts. You went back into the bathroom to put it on, and decided to not comment on the fact that it looked like a midi dress on you.

He closed the door behind him when he went to sleep, and the click of the lock felt a little insulting to you. Yet, you couldn’t expect him to trust you.

Sleep did not come easy to you, and when it did, you only had nightmares.

After a particularly bad one, you woke up with a start, only to find yourself face-to-face with one of your captors, face hid behind a balaclava, and you screamed.

Only after a few moments did you realize that it was Simon.

Between your panicked apologizing, and his nervous tea-making, it took a while for either of you to speak.

“I’m sorry for not telling you I was leaving.” He said finally, sitting across from you on the sofa, and still managing to take up three fourths of it.

“You didn’t have to. You didn’t know me.” You replied.

“I clung to you.” He said under his breath, as if it was an admittance of weakness.

“I liked it. Made me feel less alone.”

Your hands found each other in the dark, his fingers curling around yours and you swore that you could feel his heart hammer in his wrist.

“I don’t want to go to Manchester alone.” You whispered. It was an admittance of defeat.

“I’ll go with you.” Simon replied. He had no incentive to.

In the dark, it didn’t feel as preposterous or dangerous to move closer to him. He stilled when your knee bumped against his leg, and you held your breath, waiting for his rejection.

It didn’t come, only a shaky breath from Simon that gave the smallest of hints about how he was feeling. His hand was still holding yours, warm and a little rough, but it felt real. It made you move closer, to try and lean into his touch.

His hand slipped from yours, and for a moment, you thought that you’d done something wrong, but then you felt it on your waist, and Simon pulled you onto his lap. Your hands flew to his chest to steady yourself, and you could feel his hammering heart beating under his shirt.

Simon was so massive that he engulfed you, drowned out everything around you, and you loved it. There was nothing but him, and that didn’t scare you. It made you feel unfathomably safe.

He hugged you suddenly, a mirror gesture to what you’d done at the airport, his thick arms wrapping around you, pulling you even closer, until your lips were almost on his and he looked up at you with something in his eyes that you couldn’t place, because no one had ever looked at you like that.

You couldn’t help kissing him. Slowly, asking, almost begging, you peeled up the lower half of his balaclava, waiting for him to tell you to stop. Instead, even in the darkness, you knew that the stubble on his jaw was blonde, because it was impossible to forget someone like him. Your lips found his and it felt so right that your hands snaked up to his jaw, cradling his face in the hope that he’d know you cared for him.

Simon returned your kiss equally as hungry, demanding the air you breathed from you, his embrace swallowing you, and you wanted to give it all to him. Your hands shook as you reached to slip them over the band of his sweats, still unsure if he’d reject you, or let you do it.

Cautiously, your hands slipped under his t-shirt first, his skin feeling like it was burning in comparison to your cold fingers, warm to the touch, and safe.

“I thought about you a lot.” You admitted between kisses. “Wanted to know what happened to you.”

Simon stilled at that, his gaze shifting, warping from one unreadable expression to another.

“Nothin’ good.” He replied finally. You felt like an idiot. Like you’d just ruined the moment.

“I’m sorry.” You said, because you had no idea what else to say. His hand found yours, and you felt like whatever was going to happen to you, it was going to be okay.

#simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley x you #cod: mwii #cod x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #ghost cod x reader #ghost cod x you

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

Note

Would I be the asshole if I refused to pay my phone bill?

📱🧾♿️ <- To recognize my post for later :)

The title is probably already a bit of a red flag, but I genuinely didn’t know how else to word it…

For context: I am a disabled, chronically and mentally ill trans guy who recently turned 20. I haven’t left home yet for a lot of reasons, some being that my parents promised to let me live rent-free so long as I was in college (which I am, just not currently for the summer) as well as the fact that they really haven’t raised me to be very independent and rely solely on them (which is honestly a whole other can of worms), but primarily because of my disability. It isn’t safe for me to live on my own, as I faint commonly, cannot stand up for more than maybe fifteen minutes at a time roughly, and sometimes am unable to eat for long periods of time due to debilitating nausea which leads to weakness. I also have severe chronic pain in my limbs and gut, something I’ve had most of my life, while my chronic illness I’ve only had for about a year and a half now and am still struggling to adjust to.

Because of my disability, I also can’t work a traditional job. I offer art commissions online, because I’m very passionate about art and it’s one of the few things I’m good at, and I haul in a decent amount, but certainly not enough to live off of. I make enough to set aside some good savings (I’m currently saving for a wheelchair, as that might grant me more freedom and the potential to get a job at least for the summer) while also indulging myself in buying the occasional fatty treat (I’m very underweight so that’s not an issue, and I was raised essentially in an almond mom household all my life, so this form of eating is really the only sense of control I have over my life, as I’m fully dependent on my parents elsewise).

The issue has come upon relatively recently. I feel like a huge entitled brat for it as well, and if others believe the same, I sincerely don’t blame you.

My mom sat me down the other day and said that she expected me to start paying at least one bill. She offered my cheapest bill (which would be for my phone; my parents bought it, and it’s theirs, they’re just letting me use it as my own.. I don’t own a whole lot of “my” items myself) and asked what I thought about that. I was fully honest with her: if I had a steady stream of income, I wouldn’t hesitate to offer to pay for all of my bills, but with the way it stands, I just don’t make enough month-to-month to regularly afford the bill. I also do my commissions through my phone, so if I could afford the bill, my phone would be turned off, and I’d be unable to continue.

My mom got very upset and started talking to me like a child (though she really has every right to, honestly, and I know that). She went on a very long rant about teaching me responsibility, and how I can’t rely on my parents forever, and that I need to grow up at some point… All things that I fully agree with. I sincerely want to! I want nothing more than to be fully independent. But the way it stands, my parents cover my entire medical bills and they pay for my meds… And I just don’t make enough to survive on my own, and I can just barely afford a meal or two from a sandwich shop I enjoy twice a month to keep my sanity in check because I’m usually bedbound.

I tried explaining to her that I would if I could, sincerely, and that I’m not trying to be a leech or lazy, but she wasn’t having it. She just scolded me and said that if I can afford to eat out every month, then I can afford the phone bill. But again, with the way things are, I don’t think I’d be able to do it every month without tapping into my savings, which again, is for my wheelchair so I can regain some sense of freedom for myself. I’m seriously debating just telling her no straight out, but I don’t know what the aftermath might look like…

So, sincerely: Am I in the wrong here? Should I just swallow my protests and cough up the money somehow? I really don’t know and would love an outside perspective.

#aita #am i the asshole

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ragingbookdragon · 2 years

Text

She stared at them like they’d lost their minds. “What is this? A TV show? You seriously want me to dress up and go into this guy’s hideout all alone and flirt the information out of him? Are you fucking kidding me?”

The group shared a look, then Soap shrugged. “I mean, yeah, that’s the gist of the plan.”

With a sigh, she asked, “Do you at least have any dresses for me?”

“Already prepared,” Soap replied, lifting a bag.

“Gimme.” She took the bag from him and dropped it by her feet, toeing off her boots as she unbuttoned her pants and shoved them down her thighs; their eyes hit the ceiling to give her privacy.

“Uh…we have a bathroom.”

“And I have no shame,” she answered, yanking off her jacket, shirt, and tank top underneath. “Literally. I had a guy watch me shit when I was in basic. Had a full-on conversation with that man because he didn’t understand personal space in the head.” She picked out one of the dresses. “Didn’t even look away when I wiped. So, I, from that day forward, have never felt any sense of shame whatsoever. Because if you can have a conversation, with the opposite gender, while you’re shitting, you have no reason to ever be ashamed again.”

“I seriously wonder about your time at boot camp,” Price muttered, and she snorted.

“Pretty sure my entire group was nicotine depraved and crackheads.”

Soap had long lowered his eyes from the ceiling as he commented, “You know your underwear doesn’t match your bra, right?”

“Stellar observation there, Soap. No wonder you’re such a great shot.” She gestured to the red and plaid holiday bra and the neon green hi-briefs. “Forgot to pack before this mission and the underwear to the bra was dirty.”

“Why don’t you just stick with mil-issued?”

Her face pinched. “I’d rather use my hands as a cover for my tits and vag than use shit undergarments I can rip with my bare hands. And I have, in fact, ripped them with my bare hands before. And no, Soap,” she cut off, “you don’t get to ask why.”

She pulled the dress up her legs and slipped her arms through the sleeves, adjusting it to her body, then she frowned. “What am I going to church?”

“It has a slit in the side,” Soap offered, and she started walking around.

“My dudes, I can’t walk in this thing, let alone fight if things go bad.” Ghost, who’d been silent up until that point, walked towards her and she looked at him. “What?” he said nothing, and she backed up. “Ghost, what?”

He stood before her, reached down, and bunched the dress up in his hands, yanking it up her hips until everyone saw neon green. His fingers dug into the meat of her ass, keeping her in place even as she tried to recoil. Her eyes flashed with anger, and she let a knee fly up towards his groin—he caught it of course, also dodging the elbow she sent his way. Ghost gave a ‘hmpf’ and said, “Seems to me like you can fight just fine, love.” Letting her go, he smoothed the dress back down her legs and walked off, leaving her flustered in anger, embarrassment, and if she were being totally honest, arousal.

“Not. One. Word.” She hissed, pointing at the men who suddenly found the floor, the ceiling, and each other much more interesting than her.

As she stalked off in Ghost’s direction, Soap crossed his arms over his chest and muttered, “I’m not paying you money. They didn’t confess.”

Gaz smirked. “Yeah, but they’re gonna bone so it still counts.”

Price scowled at them. “You’re dogs…how much are we betting?”

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yandere-daydreams · 23 days

Note

Okok gonna face my fears and send this off anon . . . ♡ I woke up at 6am and have been plagued by the concept of yan!satosugu with idol darling like all morning

Walk with me here okokokokok. So like satoru obviously has like sooo much money. What if just to get a break from focusing on sorcery all the time he became a sponsor or even producer for a very cute girlypop idol group,,, (and yes I do think he would be kinda weird/creepy to idol darling, especially with how he views himself as basically untouchable (I mean he has enough money to pay the right people off) sooo).

That’s where suguru comes in (I see this as a mostly canon-compliant geto never defected au). Obviously he would want to keep up with what his best friend is up to, so he’s like a day one supporter of said idol group. With how the japanese idol industry seems to have a focus on the youth and purity of female idols, I could definitely see suguru wanting to “protect his oshi’s innocence” . . .

So if (let’s be honest, WHEN) satosugu bring idol darling home, I could totally see suguru just absolutely babying the poor girl to kind of a weird infantilizing degree?? If that makes sense?? Like very much trying to condition darling into relying on them for everything

I would assume that satoru would be a lot more upfront about how much of a gross perv he is (especially since he probably mistreated the group members to some extent)

I think they would expect total compliance from darling, but if darling ever acts up I can’t help but think one of their go-to punishments would be forcing her to perform the groups choreographies with some sort of “handicap” ie vibrator taped to her pussy at the full speed (and yes they would probably reprimand if she messes up - gotta make sure their number one idol isn’t missing practice!!

Speaking of missing practice/group activities, I fully believe it is within satoru’s capabilities to spread the narrative that darling just kinda . . . suddenly “graduated” from the group and left without a trace, so therefore the other members shouldn’t worry about her and should instead just resume group activities!! (I could also see satosugu using this as some kind of mental leverage over idol darling - like “hey, your group is actually way more popular now that you’ve left”)

Sorry gang I fear I let the thoughts simmer for too long . . .

please let me know your thoughts :3

tw - non/con, kidnapping, idol exploitation, long-term stalking, and obsessive behavior.

WAIT may i suggest: suguru and satoru as parasocial ultra-fans of the same idol as kind of an escapism thing from the stress of being some of the world's most powerful sorcerers, with satoru having the fortune to completely devote himself to making him and suguru your #1 fans. you start to recognize them around the fifth time they miraculously appear at the very front of the line for your post-concert meet-and-greet, but since they're a little bit older and they always have a small gaggle of shy, but polite preteens with them, you just assume they're a pair of wealthy fathers eager to fuel their kids' shared fixation. sure, it's a little strange that the white-haired man always seems more excited to shake your hand than his standoffish son, and it does raise a few concerns when the twin girls spend the majority of their time with you gushing about their black-haired father, but you're a very popular idol with a very busy schedule. you don't have a lot of time to think about one strange family out of the hundred or so you'll meet, that night.

you don't have a lot of time to think about them until your group starts getting extravagant, expensive gifts and donations - always paired with the a gushing fan letter and always sent from one of two increasingly familiar names. since you always seem to be the primary focus, you're the one pressured by your producers to film 'thank you' videos that are just a little too intimidate, to post the type of pictures your generous sponsors compliment the most heavily more often than you may like to. it gets to the point where you're being asked how you'd feel about ""private shows"" to ""ensure the support of a select demographic"", but you adamantly refuse every time it's brought up. it's enough to have to deal with satoru's touchiness at your handshake events, suguru's prying gaze from his permanent seat in the front row of your group's concerts. you don't need to be trapped in the same room as them, alone and all-but paid to cooperate, to know that you want as little to do with them as possible.

that is, until your producer slips you a drink that's just a little too bitter during rehearsal and you wake up in a large room decorated entirely with your merch and memorabilia, to satoru's head between your thighs and suguru behind you, an arm wrapped around your waist and his chin propped on your shoulder as he tells you about how excited they are to finally meet their favorite idol in person, how patiently they've been waiting for you to finally retire and take on a more domestic lifestyle. they'll be delighted to find out that, because of how long you've been in the industry and how protective your fans can be, you're still very much a virgin, and you very much need your two biggest fans to show you what you've been missing <3 if you're lucky, they'll even add pictures of your first climax to the shrine they've been building since they day they first discovered you, the shrine they're going to be keeping you inside of from now on. you might be crying, sure, begging to be let go, but that's alright.

in time, you'll realize how lucky you are to have such devoted fans.

#yandere #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere gojo satoru #yandere geto suguru #angelbunsx

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tsukisrants · 2 months

Text

TIME TO WORK

Park Seonghwa x Reader

Warnings: Rough sex, Name calling, Slut shaming, Sex in exchange of money, Kind of Hate Sex?, Spit, Anal play, Choking, Dom/sub undertones, Humiliation, Degradation, Slapping, Spanking, Creampie!!, Squirting, Unprotected Sex, Hair Pulling, Rough Oral Sex…,

Word Count: 9.268

“You’re in a desperate need for a job, and you go and ask for help to Park Seonghwa, one of the richest men in the country. Thing his, you broke his heart years ago: now he wants payback.”

————————smut under the cut ————————

Waiting has never been a problem for you.

Not once, expect for now.

See, you’re pretty prideful of your patience and of the way you can handle situations when experiencing stress.

Now? You look like a damn fool.

You’re not even sure you can actually recognize yourself, if you were to be completely honest.

Standing in front of that door, desperate and pathetic.

Your arms are shaking, your hands feel cold and weak.

If you were to grab a butterfly, the little thing would probably laugh at you and bite you.  And we all know butterflies don’t actually bite.

Do they?

You have no idea.

Right now, your only thought is: will I be able to make it?

Will I look like an idiot in front of him?

Will he laugh at me?

Will I like it?

“Miss? Miss…?”

What? What?

You turn you head and you see the girl: confused eyes, hair tied up neatly and arms busy carrying so many papers.

“Oh- Hi… I booked an appointment a while ago? I think one of your colleagues let me in, I’m Y/N…”, you stutter, clearing your throat as you try to get out of your own head and focus on the situation that you inevitably have to deal with.

“Right! Yes, of course”, says the girl. She smiles, but it’s fake. A smile made out of obligation, out of compassion. It’s her job, nothing more. She doesn’t care about you: just like you don’t care about her.

She’s just a mean to an end, and she knows it.

“Please, follow me, dear. Mr Park is ready to meet you”, she adds, waving her hands towards the door, suggesting you to use those useless limbs of yours and start to move.

You like this girl: she looks perfect in her role.

She doesn’t give a fuck about anything, and she makes you feel at ease, somehow.

She has no idea why you’re here, but in her eyes, her bored eyes, you sense that she feels pity for the dumb girl standing in front of the door of one of the most powerful men in South Korea.

The door is closer.

You’re walking and you don’t even notice it until it’s too late not to.

The door handle is shiny, glistening under the lights.

You want to scream at it.

To rip it off the door and run away: that thing probably would cover your rent cost for the whole month if you sold it.

“Mr Park, your appointment is here”, you hear.

You’re gonna faint.

You so are gonna faint.

You don’t.

You don’t how you manage not to, but the only thing that matters is that you didn’t.

There’s really no need for any other reasons for you to feel like an idiot right now.

The ones you have are already more than enough.

“Let them in, thank you.”

Ok, now you’ll faint.

No way.

It’s been a while since you last heard his voice, but it changed so much whilst remaining so… warm. So him.

You take a deep breath, because now the door isn’t just closer: it’s open.

Fist thing you notice?

The smell.

Or, well, the richness of it.

With all your senses you only are able to perceive one thing: power.

Power and money.

The door closes behind you.

The girl not by your side anymore.

You’re alone now.

But not really, because when you finally raise your head you’re finally able to see him.

Park Seonghwa.

The man everyone either wants, or wants to be.

The man you’ve had, if only for a few months, back when you both were stupid teens.

The same man that is now looking at you, staring you down with that piercing gaze of his.

It’s hard for you to open your mouth and speak up, but you know that you have to, and quickly.

It’s hard, when you have Korea’s wet dream right in front of you.

“H-Hi”, you say.

Which is actually pretty pathetic, especially considering the way your voice shakes and the fact that you should be at least attempting some sort of professionalism given the circumstances.

Well, at least it makes him laugh.

Which means that yes, he recognized you.  

And yes, you actually don’t mind being laughed at.

You don’t know if it’s a thing for you or just the fact that you don’t mind it if he’s the one laughing, which in your opinion would be fair.

“Hello, Y/N. To what do I owe the honor of this unexpected visit?”

Well, fuck.

First thing first, he said your name: and he made it sound like the nastiest thing in the world.

Or maybe you’re just a slut, you can’t really decide.

Whatever.

And the sarcasm.

He’s still mad at you, just like you expected.

You did disappear from his life with no explanation and flew to another country whilst in a relationship with him, after all.

In your defence, you were a dumb kid: you were younger than he was and desperately in love with him. Saying goodbye would have killed you, so you made the most childish and selfish decision ever: you just went away.

One day you guys were holding hands and making plans, and the day after you were just… gone.

You had to leave everything behind cause your mom and dad divorced, and you mother couldn’t bare to keep on living in the same country as the man that ruined her life.

So you followed her, and you two moved on together.

 You forgot all about perfect Park Seonghwa, or that’s what you like to tell yourself.

Because if you really had forgotten all about the man, you wouldn’t be standing in his office ready to humiliate yourself.

“W-well… you see, I’m… I thought that maybe…”, words keep on falling from your lips, now all bitten from the nervousness you had to endure waiting for this moment.

Seonghwa isn’t impressed.

He takes his hands out of the pockets of his slacks, only to bring them to his chest. He crosses his arms and slightly tilts his head to the side, an eyebrow raised and a judgment mixed with a not so well hidden amusement written all over his face.

“Y-You t-thought what, exactly?”

Ok, you didn’t expect that.

Mocking you already?

A sign, that’s what this is. A sign that you should turn your heels and fucking run as far as possible from this man.

He looks possessed.

He looks so mean, despite his ethereal beauty.

Obviously, you don’t run.

You wouldn’t be here in the first place if you had any self preservation or respect.

“M’sorry, Hwa, I really am. I know I’ve been”, you try to say, but he cuts you off.

He doesn’t let you finish.

“Who’s Hwa? It’s Mr Park to you”, he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Like you’re a stupid fucking idiot just cause you thought you could refer to him like you used to.

“Sir, if I’m feeling kind and if you’ve earned it”, he adds, dropping himself on his pompous chair.

His legs are slightly spread: not enough to be vulgar, but just right. To show dominance, and to make you see that he really owns this place.

Not like you had any doubts, but whatever.

It’s not like you mind it anyways.

You wish you had any smart come-back for his tone, but you don’t.

And, well, you’re in no position to be a jerk: you came here to beg, after all.

“M-Mr Park…” you start, and he chuckles.

“That’s more like it”, he comments, and you don’t miss the way his tongue goes to wet those sinful lips of his.

You follow every single one of his movements, as if you’re trying to study them, as if staring at him could help you achieve your goals.

Only thing is helping you achieve is getting wet in front of your ex-boyfriend, but that’s not the point.

“I know I have no right to come here and ask you for help, but-“, you take a deep breath, “I- I lost my job and I’m alone and I have rent and bills and I’m behind with my payments… if I don’t hand the money to my landlord tonight they’re gonna kick me out and…”

He looks surprised, amused, confused and much more.

You, well… you look humiliated, that’s for sure.

But you knew it was bound to happen, and you’d rather beg for mercy than sleep under a bridge or who knows where else.

“And you’re telling me this because…” he asks, as if he doesn’t already know the answer to that.

He’s enjoying this just like you expected.

“C-cause I thought t-that maybe you could help, l-like what’s some money to you, anyways? And you and I, we have a past, you’d be helping an old friend?”

You’re so shameless, it’s disgusting.

But, desperate times call for desperate way, or something like that.

You just know that you need the money, and you need them now.

He laughs, out loud. Shaking his head and muttering about how absurd this whole situation is, as if you don’t know it already. But whatever:

“I’ll pay you back, of course. Just… give me some time and I promise, Hw- Mr Park, I promise I’ll pay you back.”

He gets up.

He looks mean, and his face hides something.

He looks huge, and you stand in place, frozen.

You’re breathing heavily, and you notice that your hands are shaking.

Your legs, too.

Cold sweat is running down your spine, and you feel lost.

He gets closer.

He’s so beautiful, and he gets more handsome with every step he takes towards your trembling figure.

“Money is nothing to me, you’re right. But you really think that, after everything you did to me, I’m just gonna pay your debts? After humiliating me like that, breaking my heart? Are you really that much of a shameless bitch, Y/N?”

His voice is sharp, and his words hit you like daggers.

But, to be honest, you were waiting for them to come. You knew they were.

That doesn’t make them less hurtful.

Seonghwa is right in front of you, and to look at him in the eyes you have to slightly tilt your head, cause he’s so much taller than you now.

He smells rich, and warm. Different than he used to, more mature.

He’s a man now, that much is very clear to you.

His proximity makes you even more nervous, but at the same time the familiarity of it gives you some confidence.

“I-I’m sorry, I swear I am”, you murmur, and you notice that tears are starting to fill your eyes.

He looks pleased at the sight of it, and your belly tightens at the implications of him being engaged in your suffering.

“Sorry? You’re sorry?” he repeats after you, chuckling as tears spill from your eyes, crossing your reddening cheeks.

“You want my money, Y/N? You want a bed and a roof on your head?”, he asks, and one of his hands unexpectedly comes up to your face, gently caressing it.

His touch is light and delicate, but you still feel shivers run through your body.

You nod desperately, murmuring a “yes, please” that he barely hears.

“Then you‘ll have to earn it”, he says.

His face is unreadable, but you can’t believe that, despite everything, he’d be willing to help. You feel so happy you could die, and you’re ready to do anything in order to save yourself from the streets.

“I will! I have my degree and I’ll be more than happy to-“, he stops you, and you frown.

From his expression it seems like he’s ready to make fun of you.

“A degree?”, he asks, and you nod, ready to explain yourself, but he doesn’t allow you to.

“You don’t need a degree to suck my dick, Y/N.”

The world is silent.

Your blood is too loud. You feel your heartbeat and his, you feel everything and nothing at the same time.

You’re confused, but not a single word comes out your mouth.

After that, he doesn’t say a word. He just goes a few steps back and leans against his desk.

His legs are open, and you see the bulge of his cock that’s clearly starting to get hard.

You don’t move, you just try to get your brain to function.

What does this mean? Is he serious?

He must be joking, right?

But he isn’t, and you know it: this is payback.

It was going too well, to smoothly.

And now, after all these years, he’s finally granted the chance to humiliate you and destroy you the way you did to him.

The thing is: you need the money. You really do, and you did say that you’d do anything to get it.

But this? This means whoring yourself out.

This means becoming a slut, and nothing more.

With this thought in mind, you move your first steps: not towards the door, to run as fast as possible away from him, but towards his imposing figure.

He laughs, almost as if he doesn’t actually believe what’s happening in front of him.

“You have no shame, do you? Are you really this pathetic?”

As you fall on your knees in front of him, you can’t do anything but agree with his words

He mutters a few curses, and you take the deepest breath ever known to man.

Then, you look up, and are met with the bulge of his cock, tight inside his expensive slacks.

“What a fucking slut”, he says, before moving his arms and grabbing you by the hair.

He forces your face against his crotch, and you almost fall: you find yourself grabbing his thighs in order not to.

He’s rough, and nothing like the gentle Seonghwa you knew and loved as a teenager: the one that would touch you as if you’d break, like you were a delicate flower.

You don’t really miss him.

“Wish I could call everyone from school to let them know that you’re sucking my dick for money, that you’re a worthless slut that would take dick for a few bucks”, he says, pushing his hips against your face, rubbing his clothed cock over it.

The smell of it is intense, and the weight of it scares you: it’s huge, you can tell. So fucking big that it’s not fair.

Your mind is racing, your heart is pounding, and you can feel the tears streaming down your face as you realize the depth of your desperation. But you push those thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand. You’re ready to do whatever it takes to get the money you need.

As you lean forward, ready to fulfill his demands, a voice in your head screams at you to stop.

This isn't right. This isn't who you are.

But the fear of being homeless, of losing everything, pushes you forward.

That fear, and that humiliation, they also make you wetter than you’ve ever been before.

Shame burns into your chest, flames running through your veins.

“Bet you’d suck their cocks, too, wouldn’t you?”

His words sting in the most delicious way, and you find yourself purring against the big cock in front of your face.

“Wouldn’t you?” he asks again, grabbing your hair and forcing your face slightly upwards, enough to have your gazes meet.

It’s exhilarating to say the least, this feeling of shame and submission that is swimming through your shaking body.

“Y-yours, want- want your cock, not- only yours,” you mumble, your brain barely functioning at this point as you’re way too inebriated by the arousal building inside you.

He seems pleased, very much so. His tongue rapidly escapes his mouth and you watch, enchanted, as it wets his juicy lips.

I find yourself staring and wishing that tongue could be inside your pussy, forcing it open as more fluid escapes from it, leaving your panties wet and humid.

“Then take it out and get to work. Time is money, isn’t it? Don’t you wanna earn more?” he chuckles, moving around his seat.

You see him bend over a little and soon after that he takes his wallet, pulling out a shiny banknote.

You watch cautiously as he waves it in front of your face, and the image that appears before your eyes is one of the most humiliating and exciting you have ever seen.

You startle when, unexpectedly, he drops it against your helpless body.

The banknote brushes against your face before falling on your thighs, and this only motivates you to do better, to show him how much you are worth.

“Thank you, sir,” you whisper, finally getting to work and working his pants. You unfasten his belt, the sound loud and steady as your breathing increases and gets heavier.

It takes some effort, but you actually manage to take his pants down his thighs and have them reach the floor along with his boxer briefs.

They pool obscenely at his ankles, and he makes himself comfortable on his expensive chair, spreading his legs wider and wider.

You find the courage to look up at his cock, and the sight of it is enough to pull a moan from you, one that leaves you even more ashamed of yourself.

“So big,” you mutter out, pressing your own legs together from when your kneeling to find some release, to soothe the burning need to be filled up that’s been rushing through your body.

Your pussy clenches around nothing and it’s pathetic, because he hasn’t even touched you once.

Guess you’re just that much of a slut, after all.

“Yeah? You like it, slut? You like this big cock?” he asks, pushing his hips upwards and making said cock move in front of your face.

It’s thick, long, and so, so hard.

The tip of it is the prettiest shade of red and pink, and it’s glistening with his arousal.

Veins run through the length of it and you can see it pulse with the need to be shoved inside something.

That something is you.

Cause, after all, that’s your purpose here.

To be a hole for him to fuck into.

To be a thing, a nothing else. Nothing more than that.

“I love it, love your cock,” you whisper, reaching out to grab it at the base with your hands.

Seonghwa stops you, grabbing harshly at your wrists and forcing your body closer to his as you stumble forwards.

“No hands,” he orders, smiling maliciously.

“Lick it, start with my balls,” he orders, biting at his plump lower lip, his eyes shining with an intense darkness.

His words are, unsurprisingly, harsh and mean.

And, well, just as unsurprisingly, you find yourself loving them and enjoying the rush that they provide to you.

The air around you starts to get heavy and dense, and it’s almost like you can feel the weight of it as it presses down against your flushed skin.

Your blood is loud as it swims through your veins, and you hear beats fast, the sound of it reaching your ears.

His tone leaves out any possible refusal, so you just… obey.

It’s empowering, exhilarating.

It’s everything you’ve always craved without even knowing it.

Slowly, you lean over and breathe in, the powerful scent of his arousal hitting you and invading your senses, dominating your whole being.

The only thing that’s in your mind right now is the irresistible need of pleasing him and showing him that you’re worth his money, nothing else.

With that thought in mind, you finally get into work.

Your mouth salivating and wetting itself, you stick your tongue out and fulfill his wishes, lapping at his balls and nuzzling against the sensitive skin.

The groan he lets out vibrates through the room and sends shivers all the way down your spine.

“That’s it,” he grunts, as he pushes his hips forwards and works at his tie, untying it and proceeding then to open his nice dress shirt, button after button, showing inches of defined skin, muscles tensed with the way pleasure is circling around his body.

He’s rather magnificent, sitting in front of you and holding so much power, so much energy that it feels like the room is going to implode with it.

“Good girl,” he moans, forcing his hips upwards as you take them inside your mouth, the weight of his sack filling you up as you lick at it, feeling the skin and its texture against your tongue, moaning as your nose presses against the base of his dick, making it harder to breathe normally.

His words force a moan out of your mouth, too, and he notices it, chuckling softly through his low moans.

You feel something at your neck and notice soon enough that what’s now circling your throat isn’t is hand, no.

It’s his tie, forcing you closer to his balls and basically working as a fucking leash.

“Look at you, such an obedient little bitch, aren’t you?”

The way your hips stutter and wave doesn’t help, and you feel like a puppy wiggling their tail when presented with a treat.

“Bark,” he orders, allowing you to breathe and leaving your mouth empty, a trail of spit connection his balls, now shining and wet, with your parted, and roughed up lips.

You blush profoundly, your cheeks turning a crimson red as you consider his order.

Barking feels completely dehumanizing, and your hesitation doesn’t go unnoticed, not in the slightest.

Seonghwa tilts his head to the side, one of his eyebrows lifting up as he eyes you curiously, as if posing a challenge to you, daring you to try and refuse to follow one of his orders.

“It’s embarrassing…” you whisper, breathing heavily and trying to avoid looking at him in the eyes, failing at it when he tugs at the tie resting against your neck, making you get closer to the cock standing proudly in front of your face.

“Do I look like I fucking care?”

And soon enough, a bark is escaping your mouth, faint and barely audible.

It’s not enough, he says.

You bark again, loudly this time, shaking from where you’re kneeling and feeling the wetness between your legs get more difficult to ignore.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it? I’d say you’re a natural,” he snarls, laughing at you as he looks down at your body.

Tears of utter humiliation fill your pleading eyes, and the sight of it makes Seonghwa groan deeply.

He grabs his own dick at the base, giving it a few pumps, before hitting you in the face with the tip, smearing his precum all over your flushed face.

One of the tears you were fighting back betray you, escaping your lashed and running down your cheek.

Seonghwa licks his lips and rubs the tip of his dick against it, wetting his cock with your tears only to start rubbing it against your lips, making you taste your humiliation along with his arousal.

It’s salty and sour and sweet altogether, and you already find yourself getting addicted to it, needing more and more and more.

So you get your tongue out, lapping at the shiny tip of his cock. You circle around the head, moaning at the feeling of warmth that spreads through your tongue.

“Tastes good,” you mutter out, licking fervently at his cock as he keeps on stroking himself, grunting from where he’s sitting.

You go even further than just staying there, licking at it, and you take his wrist into your hand and pull it off his own dick, surprising him with your determination.

Seonghwa lets you have some fun with it, allowing you to reach out to grab the length of his cock.

You have it in your hands, finally.

You stroke it once, twice, before bending over a little bit to push the head inside your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and sucking gently at it to try and taste as much as possible of his delicious juice.

“Fuck,” he groans, using one of his hands to keep your hair out of your face, giving him space to look at your eyes as you get your mouth stuffed full of his thick cock.

You take your time, eager to savor every drop of his pleasure, to give yourself to him and make him satisfied like never before.

His cock slides between your parted lips with extreme ease, filling your mouth completely, giving you a sensation of fullness never felt before and leaving you inevitably curious to know how it would feel if he filled you up elsewhere too.

The reddened tip of his cock meets the back of your throat and choking sounds escape from your mouth, and when he hears them he just moans even more, louder than before.

He enjoys watching you struggle to take more in your mouth and it pushes you to relax your throat and let his big cock fill you completely, taking your breath away for a few seconds, and making spit fall from your lips and down your chin.

It’s so fucking messy and dirty and it makes your head spin with shame and arousal.

Your whole face is wet with a mixture of spit and tears and precum and you find yourself wanting and needing more of it.

“You look so good with your mouth stuffed full of my cock, this is exactly what you were born for,” he groans, pushing his trembling hips upwards and forcing another choking sound out of you, at which he utters out a few curses.

“I’ll double the money I was gonna give you if you bend over the desk and let me fuck you raw in the pussy, what do you say? Want a new dress? Some fucking new shoes?” he asks, still rutting his hips against your face and forcing you to swallow his whole cock down your aching throat.

You should probably refuse. Sucking Seonghwa's cock is one thing, but this? This would mean going way beyond, and the thought sends your mind into complete turmoil.

He seems to have little patience, and that's why he roughly grabs you by the hair and pulls his hard cock out of your mouth, leaving you empty and gasping.

"So? I don't have all day, Y/n," he asks, running his own hand along his cock, wet and slick thanks to your saliva that’s now coating it and slapping you in the face with the red tip, making you hiss at the impact.

“I want- I want three times the money for that,” you say, challenging him to deny your request, to say no and refuse.

He doesn’t.

“Let’s do four, since I also want to play with your asshole,” he smiles, bending over towards you and patting at your cheek like one would do with a puppy.

You gasp and try to find something to snarl back at him, but nothing comes out of your mouth, nothing but a little whimper that only serves to make him feel even more powerful.

Seonghwa stands up, and you notice how he is more or less dressed: his pants fallen to his ankles along with his boxers, the jacket resting on the back of the chair, the expensive white shirt completely open, showing off his sculpted chest and the magnificence of his body, covered in a thin layer of sweat.

Now that he is standing, Seonghwa looms even more over you, making your breath catch and your poor heart beat even faster.

Seonghwa grabs you by the hair, and the sudden movement forces you to stand up and follow his will.

"You're too dressed, what kind of slut are you?" he asks, grabbing the fabric of your blouse and pulling it slightly. In response, you bite your lip and decide to make amends, quickly unbuttoning your shirt and letting it fall softly to the ground.

You're not wearing a bra, you never do.

The air hitting your nipples only makes them more turgid, and your skin is crossed by countless shivers.

He gasps at the sight of your exposed skin, and it makes you feel so good, to be looked at with such want, with pure and utter hunger and desire.

Seeing Seonghwa burning with the desire to possess you gives you a courage that you probably wouldn't have otherwise, so you push yourself further, unbuttoning your skirt and letting it fall forgotten at your feet.

Black lace panties adorn your body, and you feel the wet and soaked fabric rubbing against your most sensitive spot.

You are left only with the soft white knee-high socks and your shiny black loafers, standing in front of one of the richest and most powerful men in Korea.

“That’s more like it,” he chuckles, licking his lips and looking at you from head to toe, a mischievous look in his eyes.

“You’re so hot, Y/n. You made the right choice, coming here. This little body of yours was made to be fucked, and what better way to earn money than spread your legs and let me do just that, huh?” he murmurs, as one of his hands goes down to his cock. He strokes himself as he watches you, and it makes your skin burn, to be looked at in such a dirty, naughty manner.

His tie is still around your neck, the only garment covering you along with your panties and knee-high socks.

The black fabric is in perfect contrast with your skin, and even though the tie is very light, it feels immensely heavy where it rests.

"Fuck me," you whisper to Seonghwa, because you too are starting to feel extremely horny and in need of attention.

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow, and his hand collides with your cheek, making you turn your face to the side.

The blow wasn't overly strong, but still impactful. Enough to make you catch your breath for a second and to remind you who is in control here.

"Rude. Where are your manners?" Seonghwa asks, dangerously approaching you and grabbing your chin, squeezing the skin and forcing you to look at him.

"Please, I beg you, sir, fuck me," you whimper, now completely abandoned to him and totally under his control.

"Now, that's better," Seonghwa whispers, and shortly after he makes your lips collide in a quick and fierce kiss. He bites your lip, making you moan against his mouth, before pulling away from you.

"Good girl. You act all tough, but you just want someone to put you in your place, don't you? Want me to show you who’s in charge?"

His words are exactly what you were hoping for, and the wetness between your legs increasing only confirms thqt.

You nod. What would be the point in denying anything? Right. There’s no point, and you know it. He know is too, it’s pretty obvious. He’s always been able to read you, and this is the same. Years passed by, but deep down you guys still know each other.

Seonghwa, at your admission and your being so yielding, can only swell with pride and satisfaction.

He approaches you, and the world spins wildly: he grabs you by the hair, pulls you towards the desk, and forces you to bend over it, pushing your head against the polished and intensely scented mahogany of his desk.

You have your ass up, covered only by your panties.

You hear Seonghwa swear and soon one of his hands clashes with the sensitive skin of your butt, and he gives you a strong spank.

You flinch, gasp, and squirm, and he takes it as encouragement to hit you again: two, three, four times.

Now the mark of his hand lies on your skin, and you feel completely possessed and owned by Seonghwa.

"You have no idea how many times I've thought about you over the years. How many times I've thought about hurting you, having you all to myself even just once," Seonghwa confesses, running his hands over your ass, caressing you heavily.

His words are intoxicating.

"I've thought about you too, I swear, Seonghwa. Sir. I shouldn't have, but I did. I-I never forgot about you," you whisper, instinctively moving your hips upwards, trying to keep his hands on you for as long as possible.

You're not lying, you really mean what you said. Seonghwa has always been a constant in your life, it's undeniable. Your biggest regret and remorse. Your biggest and burning desire.

"Shut up, Y/n," Seonghwa commands, and you feel him grab the expensive fabric of your panties. A few seconds later, a loud noise fills the room.

He's torn them off, reduced them to shreds.

Pieces of fabric fall to your feet and your wet pussy is now completely exposed to him.

You feel drops of pleasure escaping from your trembling pussy and wetting your thighs, and you try to relieve the looming pressure by rubbing your legs together, but Seonghwa stops you.

He first grabs your hips, then your ass.

Seonghwa spreads your cheeks open, and you hear the air move as he bends down and spits on you.

He fucking spits on you.

His saliva runs down from your ass and to your pussy, adding wetness and naughtiness to the mixture.

He’s not satisfied, so he spits again, this time closer to your asshole.

You feel his breath against your sensitive skin and you find yourself holding your breath.

“This little hole, fuck, I wish I could just fuck it,” he groans, knowing damn well that he can’t just do that.

“N-Next time…” you utter out, wiggling your hips to try and meet his touch.

“You plan on coming here to get fucked more? Are you that greedy, you little whore?” he asks, laughing a little as he leans over you to just go and bite the skin of your ass, still covered by his handprint.

“S-so greedy, sir. I’ll come back whenever you want, do whatever you want,” you confess with a shaking voice, making Seonghwa laugh at you for how pathetic you are.

“You really have no shame. What a fucking slut,” he adds, before actually going silent.

What you feel next makes your eyes roll back and your hands reach out to the end of the desk to grab the wood and gain some support out of it.

His wet tongue is sliding against your little hole, wetting it more and more and making it pulse with the need to be filled up.

It’s a foreign feeling, to have someone eat your ass out like this, but Seonghwa seems like a starved man as he holds your cheeks open and dives in, licking and kissing and spitting and making your whole world turn upside down.

“Tastes good,” he groans, breath heavy and voice full of lust.

He pushes the tip of his tongue inside of your ass, and it makes you see stars.

Seonghwa fucks you with it, again and again, making slurping sounds.

One of his hands slides down and you feel one of his long, slender fingers rub against your wet hole.

“Just a finger, what do you say?” he murmurs, asking you for permission.

A permission you can’t help but grant him, nodding and murmuring a “please” that you’re not even sure was audible enough.

Seonghwa wastes no time, and soon his thumb makes its way into your tight and warm hole.

The sensation is unparalleled: you feel completely filled.

It doesn't matter that it's just a finger, you feel like you could explode at any moment.

Your legs tremble uncontrollably, and loud moans escape from your lips.

Seonghwa also moans, as he fucks your asshole with his finger.

You are already lost in pleasure, and he has not even touched your pussy yet.

It makes you feel really dirty, really perverse.

You feel like an actual whore begging to be filled.

“So tight,” he comments, and you feel this cock being shoved against the back of your thighs, as he smears precum over your skin and rubs against your legs to get some relief to his aching dick.

“Please, I want your cock, sir. Fuck my pussy, please, please, H-Hwa…” you beg, trying to get him to finally push his dick inside of you, and you feel already close to the verge of tears with how desperate you are.

“Here it comes,” he murmurs, finally giving the both of you what you crave the most.

With your thumb still inside you, you feel Seonghwa moving behind you.

He grabs his cock at the base and brings the tip closer to you, rubbing it against the sensitive and wet skin of your pussy, against your lips, right between your juicy folds, and pushing against your swollen and red clitoris.

A moan escapes your lips, and you find yourself spreading your legs even wider and begging him to put his cock inside you once and for all.

Finally, Seonghwa rubs the swollen tip of his cock against your wet hole, teasing you for just a few seconds before pushing it inside your pussy.

In one hard thrust, Seonghwa buries his thick cock inside you, making you scream in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

You feel so full, with both of your holes filled by him, his cock pressing inside you and stretching you completely.

You don't even notice a drop of saliva escaping from your lips and running down your chin, and if you could see yourself, you too would think of yourself as a whore.

“Fuck, this pussy is so good,” groans Seonghwa, and you make the effort of turning your head to try and look at him as he fills you up.

His head is thrown back, his neck exposed and lucid with sweat, and he seems completely lost in pleasure as he starts to rut inside of your pussy, fucking you and making you his.

For the first moments, Seonghwa's thrusts are not calculated, but dictated by his need to feel something warm enveloping his cock.

He enjoys the moment and ignores your helpless body, seeking only his pleasure.

Seonghwa's cock slides easily into your body, your wet pussy emitting dirty and exciting sounds as it is filled by his cock.

You tremble under his thrusts, and soon Seonghwa accelerates the movements of his hips, sinking into you with more force and precision.

He fucks you like he would fuck a whore, pushing all the way into your pussy and moving his finger into your ass.

He is not completely satisfied, though.

That's why you see him bend over you, pushing his cock even deeper into your pussy. Seonghwa brings two fingers of the hand that is free to your lips, and pushes them into your mouth, filling you even there.

"Christ," he gasps, starting to move the fingers he pushed into your mouth.

"Look at yourself, Y/n. You have all your holes filled by me, you're getting fucked in each of these tight little holes for money," Seonghwa grunts, and as you feel the saliva escaping from your lips, you see his eyes getting darker, more intense.

He moans and gasps, fucking you with all the strength and passion he has in his body, moving his fingers inside you and fucking you without the slightest mercy.

“Make it worth it, clench this pussy on me, huh?” he moans, despite the fact that your pussy already is clenching and hugging his cock as tightly as humanly possible.

You feel every movement of his inside you. Your skin and his rubbing together, his cock caressing the most intimate and deepest parts of you, sending electric shocks to run through every inch of your body and his as well.

Seonghwa's legs tremble as he sinks into you, fucking your mouth with his fingers and forcing you to choke on them, making you cough and then making your holes contract around him consequently. The rough and forceful way in which he is fucking you forces your body to move against the desk, and your wet and needy clitoris rubs against the cold and shiny wood of the desk.

Your nipples in contact with the mahogany stimulate you in the most delicious way possible, and you are completely intoxicated by the pleasure that grows rapidly inside you.

Your orgasm is getting closer and closer, and the feeling of being completely at the mercy of his desires only increases the strength of your pleasure.

Seonghwa towers over you, filling you everywhere, and could do anything to you: you wouldn't object, you wouldn't refuse anything. You would do anything for him. Anything he asked for and more.

Everything.

Not for the money, for him.

You don't tell him, that's for sure. But you think it.

Seonghwa is the only thing on your mind, not your rent to pay or your empty pockets.

Only: Seonghwa. Seonghwa. Seonghwa.

“Yeah, say my name. Fucking scream it,” he groans after he notices how you’re chanting his name in pleasure.

He takes his fingers off your mouth, giving you all the freedom to moan his name.

He forces you to scream, fucking you more harshly, a hand grabbing your hair and pulling at it enough for you to arise from the desk and for you spine to bend and for him to reach you and kiss your neck.

The position you’re in isn’t the most comfortable, but it sure as hell is exiting.

Seonghwa kisses your neck and bites at it, sucking the sensitive skin long enough to leave a plethora of marks behind.

Tomorrow you’ll be covered in his marks, you’ll look debouched and devastated and his.

His thumb leaves your ass empty and gaping, and now he’s completely focused on fucking your pretty aching pussy.

“Mine, Y/n. From now on you’re mine. You’ll get everything you want, but you have to be mine. My slut, my little cum dump,” he groans, licking all over your neck and sucking your ear lob in his mouth as he moans into your ear.

“Yes! Yes! M’yours, I-I’ll let you do anything, a-anything,” you moan, feeling floaty and lost, shaking and pushing your hips backwards to meet his trusts.

“I’m close, so close,” you confess, hiccuping between your helpless moans.

Seonghwa growls, and he fucks into you one last time before taking his cock out of your pussy and taking a step back.

You whine and complain, begging him to put it back in, to just do something.

“I want to see your face when you cum. I want to look into your eyes as I cream that pussy,” he explains, grabbing you by the hips and manhandling you in the position he prefers.

You’re sitting on the desk, you legs spread open and you pussy glistening with a mixture of your juices and his, all puffy and needy as your hole clenches around nothing.

“Ask me for it. Beg for my cock,” he says, voice mean as he touches his cock and teases his balls.

You have no dignity left at this point, so you don’t hesitate and do just as he asked you to.

“Please, sir, I need it. My pussy needs it, please, please,” you cry out, tears actually falling from your pretty eyes as you decide to tease him and tempt him a little bit.

One of your hands slides down your body, and you rub at one of your nipples, pinching it and feeling the most delicious pain ever.

With the other hand you go down to rub fervently at your needy little clit, circling around it and playing with the most sensitive part yourself.

“Please? Pretty please? Give it to me, Hwa, I beg you, sir, fuck me,” you continue, hand trailing down your pussy as you spread your own folds for him, exposing yourself like never before.

Wet juices fall from your pussy and are close to pool on his desk, and the sight of it is completely nasty.

“Don’t you dare fucking touch what’s mine,” he growls, getting closer to you and slapping your own hands away from your own body.

He directs his cock to your pleading pussy and pushes back in, spreading you open once again.

The new angle touches the right spots, reaches exactly where you were craving his cock to hit, and your eyes roll back in pleasure.

One of his hands reaches your throat, and he just keeps it there. An heavy weight against your neck, the promise of the most beautiful threat.

Seonghwa looks at you with something hidden in his eyes, and a wicked smile shows on your face.

“Choke me,” you dare him, biting at your lower lip as moans force themselves out of your mouth.

“You fucking brat,” moans Seonghwa, and the hand around your throat tightens, and tightens, and tightens.

The sensation of air and oxygen being denied to you is exhilarating, it's wonderful. Seonghwa even controls this: he decides whether to let you breathe or not. The thought makes your head spin and only increases the pleasure that floods your body.

Seonghwa's hand tightens again and again around your neck, choking you while looking into your eyes, dominating your body and soul.

“C-Close,” you whisper with the little air you have left, legs shaking around his waist as you sense pleasure building up inside your belly.

“Cum. Cum on my cock, you pathetic little thing,” orders Seonghwa and finally, he decides to grant you some mercy: his thumb comes down between your spread legs, and he starts to rub at you clit with precise movements, making you cry out loud and sound.

“Fuck! More, more, harder!” You shout, and Seonghwa lets go of his hold around your neck to grab your hip and use it as leverage to fuck more harshly inside your cunt.

His cock slides inside you with extreme ease, and his movements are precise and determined, and the tip of his cock rubs against all the right spots, making you breathless from how much it makes you enjoy.

Your hands reach his shoulders, and you cling to him tightly, scratching them from under his shirt and pushing it away, uncovering his back and scratching his skin.

Seonghwa doesn't seem to mind, on the contrary as your nails dig into his skin he only moans more, only rubs his fingers more decisively against your clitoris.

Seeing him so lost in pleasure and so deeply aroused is exactly the push you needed to finally succumb to your own orgasm.

The force with which you come is devastating: your legs tremble with strength, your breath breaks in your throat and the gasps and moans that escape from your lips are filled with desperation and pure pleasure. Your pussy contracts and tightens around Seonghwa's hard cock, as if wanting to keep it inside forever. Your clitoris pulses and sends electricity throughout your body.

Your turgid nipples brush against Seonghwa's chest as you hold him close and tight to you.

But what surprises both of you even more is another thing: the explosive way in which your orgasm overwhelmed you, making you squirt hot and juicy liquid around his cock, along both of your thighs. It seems to never end, and you surrender to pleasure as you squirt again and again against him, squeezing his cock and massaging it with your pussy.

“Fuck, you’re a slut, you’re a fucking slut, you just squirted all over my cock,” he groans, fucking into you as he forces you to give him even more of your precious juices.

His hand, the one that was rubbing at your clit, is covered in it, all moist and shiny and wet.

He brings it to his lips, sucks his own fingers and tastes you, your eyes spread open as you watch him savor your squirt.

“So fucking good,” he moans, before reaching down to get more of it, rubbing his hand against your folds and making you cry in overstimulation.

“Taste yourself,” he orders, before smearing your own juices against your lips, making you lick them clean as he watches.

“Want your cum. My pussy- it’s so empty, please, please, fill me up, cum in me,” you beg, tears falling from you eyes as your body begs for some mercy, begs to be filled, begs to be owned.

You lose control of it, and just slump on the desk, back hitting the wood and legs spreading even further.

“Take it, fuck! Take my cum, take it all in you pussy, here it fucking comes, ‘s all yours,” he moans, starting to slur his words as he shoves his dick inside of your abused cunt without a care in the world, the slide made even easier thanks to your powerful orgasm.

You feel it clearly: Seonghwa's hands run up your body, grabbing your breasts and squeezing them tightly.

The thrusts into your pussy become more erratic, stronger, more unrestrained.

Seonghwa's eyes become burning, shining with pleasure.

His moans become lower, deeper, strong enough to make your heart race, and you feel him bury himself one last time in your wet pussy, all the way in.

You feel him fill you with hot cum, squirting his thick and warm liquid inside you, flooding your wet and trembling pussy, abused to exhaustion.

You feel full to the brim, completely filled with his cum.

Seonghwa trembles, leans forward and kisses your breasts, while his hips make small instinctive movements, and he tries to push even deeper inside you, trying to bury his own cum deep in your pussy as far as humanly possible.

You gently pet his hair, but he doesn’t seem to mind it.

He just lays there for a while, keeping his cock inside of you to plug his cum inside your cunt.

“So full,” you whisper, clenching your pussy around him and enjoying the feeling of being so utterly used.

You both enjoy these moments of quietness, both still shaken and exhausted, taken by waves of pleasure and with labored breath.

You never would have imagined that this day would have gone this way, but honestly you wouldn't change a thing, and you don't care if this truly makes you a whore.

The only thing you care about is having had Seonghwa in such a way, being possessed by him like this and getting exactly what you needed, what you wanted.

After a few endless minutes, Seonghwa leaves a gentle bite on your breast: this time it doesn't hurt at all. It's somehow delicate.

You still flinch when he does it, and you hold back a smile. He pulls away from you, sits up.

You don't dare to imagine what condition you're in, but the way he looks at you makes you understand that it must be quite a sight.

Seonghwa pulls his cock out of your pussy, and you groan in dissent, feeling suddenly empty and sad, not wanting his cum to come out of your pussy. You want to keep it inside you as long as possible.

Seonghwa doesn't speak as he gets dressed.

He puts on his boxers and pants, buttons up his shirt. Adjusts his cuffs, his collar.

He does all this without ever taking his eyes off your body.

When you regain some strength, you decide to get off the desk, and you have to hold onto it to avoid falling.

Your panties are torn, so you can't put them back on.

You just slip on your skirt and blouse, and feel a drop of Seonghwa's cum escape from your pussy and run down your flushed thighs.

When you glance at him, you see him fumble with his wallet.

Realization of what’s going to happen sinks in, and you feel your cheeks turn a crimson red, and shame overtakes your body and overwhelms you completely.

“This should be enough for today,” Seonghwa says, his eyes looking dark and somewhat empty.

He hands you over a bunch of bills, and you spread your eyes as you take in the actual amount of money he just handed you.

That’s more than a month of your usual income.

You just made it in a couple of hours.

“I- T-thank you,” you mutter out, at a loss of words.

Seonghwa snickers, and watches cautiously as you take the money from him with shaking hands, face full of disbelief.

“Give your number to my secretary, Y/n. I’ll call you when your service will be needed. Be ready to come to work at any time, got it? Whenever I need a bucket to cum into, whenever I need to empty my balls, you drop everything and come to me to take my dick, no objections, no buts. We have a deal, right?”

Seonghwa's words are cruel, raw. But you didn't expect anything different, you knew well what you were getting into.

And you accepted to offer yourself to him with that awareness.

So, even though you feel humiliated, mocked, used, you nod. Grabbing your purse from the floor and carefully putting the banknotes inside, you notice that Seonghwa doesn't fail to observe your legs in the meantime.

"I'll be the best whore you've ever had," you confirm, forcing yourself to abandon lucidity and pride, clutching your purse as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

Seonghwa sits at the desk, arranging the papers that you moved with your body and bends slightly to smell the scent of your fluids that have soaked into the wood.

"You can go. Oh, and don't clean your thighs. You have to go home with my cum dripping from your pussy, because if you still have a place to sleep at it's thanks to that cum, and I want anyone who looks at you enough to see it: do you understand?"

You swallow loudly, but you dare not argue.

You blink and try to maintain at least a hint of control, moving your legs slightly as you feel liquid coming out of your body.

"Yes, sir," you reply, bowing slightly in farewell.

Seonghwa seems to have returned to what he was when you first entered the room, but that doesn't surprise you at all.

However, you notice him grabbing the torn edges of your panties from the floor and tucking them into the pocket of his expensive pants.

He dismisses you immediately with a wave of his hand, and you gather your strength and leave the room: destroyed, exposed, without panties and with the purse full of money.

When you leave the room, there is only his secretary, the girl who escorted you to the door.

You have no doubt that she heard everything, but she smiles just as she did when you entered a few hours earlier.

You leave her your phone number, she writes it down in her agenda with precise professionalism.

You don't miss the quick glance she gives to your legs.

You don't cover yourself, you do as Seonghwa ordered you to.

You obey.

You smile, say goodbye to the secretary.

You enter the elevator, the doors close, and for the first time you look at yourself in the mirror.

You are not the same person as you were this morning.

You fix your makeup as quickly as possible and smile.

You leave.

It takes no more than two days for your phone to ring, and for it to be an unknown number.

Time to work.

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sassykinzonline · 5 months

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when people talk about naruto's repression they kind of miss a crucial element which is that it actually makes complete sense.

firstly from the power perspective, simply put, by its very nature he requires repression to function on a most basic level. this is opposite to the sharingan, which thrives on huge displays of emotion. im going to assume that the reason this is missed is because it runs counter to the personality traits each character is known for: the "emotionless, calm and cool" one actually is constantly accessing and expressing the most powerful of emotions, and the "expressive, empathetic and emotionally honest" one is actually warring with letting true emotions come to the surface. comparatively, when you look at starfire and raven from teen titans, you see that their personalities reflect their power. starfire is bright and expressive because thats how she best accesses her powers, and raven is subdued, controlled and calculated in order to control her powers. this means that contrary to popular belief, naruto isnt starfire-- naruto is raven. there are actually a few moments where you are subtly shown just how calculated naruto's displays of emotion are, and how they are reinforced in such a way (context is naruto being saddened that his request for parental affection was rebuffed):

which brings me to my second point: socialization. this part is straightforward. from itachi actively causing and incentivizing hatred and anger, to various mentors/people of influence (eg. kakashi) remaining silent at clear expressions of violent anger-- these negative emotions are not punished or discouraged when it come to the context theyre in. why? they are beneficial to the agenda of various characters. the revenge plot only starts being punished when its disadvantageous to the state. remember that there is a monetary value attached to the murder of itachi uchiha, and this is actually a common way to earn money. when you look at naruto, there is never a single instance when naruto is encouraged or even tolerated for having these emotions. the only exception who does this leaves him due to their own parallel struggle (side note: this is why naruto distinctly says the reason for his obsession is that this person accepted him more than anyone else, given this person is the only one who saw naruto's pain and anger and actually blamed his aggressors for it). naruto, raised implicitly to know that everyone seeks to be a tool of the state, and that in his case this is not just a choice but a requirement for his humanity. iruka's acknowledgment of naruto comes with an indication of possession, implying conditionality. people like kakashi, hiruzen, and others in positions of influence witness the abuse he faces, and ignore it or groom him into accepting the idea that he should appeal to his abusers for eventual acceptance. naruto meets gaara, someone with the same condition as him, but with radically different circumstances. whereas naruto's condition symbolically papers over his pain over time, gaara's is self-protective and defensive against his pain. gaara also occupies a position of power as the member of a royal family, and has siblings who are afraid of him but do hold some level of affection towards him. gaara's feelings of loneliness, while rational, come from a different place than naruto's. for gaara, he is surrounded by community that he doesnt know how to access. naruto has no community, he needs to find a way to forge one, but even when he does it is superficial. this dynamic is repeated in his introduction to killer bee, who from an early age is granted family and institutional protection. this isnt to say that the treatment of jinchuriki is ethical or healthy, but that naruto's situation is actually uniquely oppressive. kushina is the closest naruto gets to someone who validates this pain, but she cannot truly relate to him because she is never cripplingly alone (again, not to say her life was not difficult or oppressive or traumatic) and the object of her affections returns those feelings consistently and early on. naruto's trauma is thus compounded over and over by the conflict his need for his specific love interest causes: naruto is only tolerated as a weapon of the state, and in order to be an effective one he needs to love and be loved, but his love interest who allows him these negative emotions is an enemy of the state, leading to further isolation/tension from the state and pushing him towards the love interest.

as such, i actually think naruto does remarkably well at balancing this conflict and tension in a way that keeps him functional. though, obviously and eventually the compounding of his trauma and the repression of his pain is something that needs to be addressed. the only person who is capable of doing this in a way that puts naruto's wellbeing first ("when i saw you in pain...i also felt pain" and the subsequent frequent moments of protection and defence) only reunites with him at the end of the manga, so you never get to see that actually happen.

im assuming the reason why a lot of this is missed is partially because through framing this repression as positive through the majority of the manga (aside from naruto's own personal thoughts), the reader is never really forced to decide how they feel about the concept unlike the inherent conflict of the radical revenge plot. the other part is the grander, underlying allegory in the naruto story which is the varied manifestations AND expressions of trauma. through readers' responses and attention to certain individuals in the naruto story, you can learn how they relate to and look at trauma. to me, naruto himself is actually the example of a trauma victim who shows a brave face and thus isnt recognized. naruto is the woman who puts on makeup to cover the bruises to go to work a day after she is assaulted. who tells herself that she must have some part in it, so it isnt abuse. maybe she grew up in a family where no one answered when she cried, so she learned to keep it moving and stop crying.

lastly, on a greater scale, people also forget a crucial aspect of "yin/yang" is that things with a large properties of one, by nature will also come with a small amount of the opposite. thats what the smaller inner dots represent.

a more surface level example of this is that naruto's face is brash, large, and masculine-- these are yang traits and they are predominant in his appearance. however, looking closely at his rounded cheeks and eyes and the soft nature of his eye colour, there are subtle yin elements. naruto's "positivity" or "optimism" is fueled by a certain level of negative repression.

#naruto analysis #naruto meta #naruto #naruto uzumaki #uzumaki naruto #sasunaru #narusasu #pro naruto uzumaki #uh who are relevant characters to tag here #gaara #kushina uzumaki #sasuke #sasuke uchiha #uchiha sasuke #the rest is up to god #i wrote this in one go so typos are expected

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cloveroctobers · 2 months

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COMEDY — SYDNEY ADAMU [Summer Writings]

A/N: always imagined writing for Syd and I guess the time has finally arrived…only took three seasons but my girl deserves better and better is what she’s gonna get from me! This piece is set mostly in the final episode of season three as a heads up ❤️

S|N: there was a prompt list that I wanted to go off of to use for you the reader but now I can’t find it so I’m just going off the little I remember. Which is: you being a cyclist.

WARNINGS: language, self-doubt, neighbor trope, + mentions of sexual harassment.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Having a new neighbor was interesting to say the least. You didn’t think she was fond of you after running into her twice, sneaking in the first time and nearly running your bike over her feet as she seemed to be in a rush herself. She looked as if she was the type of person that if she knew that she had to be somewhere by a certain time, she would be there much earlier than needed.

You on the other hand? Operated on your own time, not sticking to routines as much after your quest to turn into a pro cyclist fell through, and you were stuck working a shitty retail job down at the dollar general (shut out to your general studies degree, your mother did aways say you should have studied something more valuable although she didn’t go to college herself and felt like her money was wasted on you compared to your older sister who lived in South Africa as a zoologist)…where you basically came in when you wanted since the manager never knew how to schedule the four of you—yes—FOUR of you properly. You did what you needed to survive, just like anyone.

The second time you got her attention was when you buzzed her apartment, annoyingly on her day off, contemplating about the contract agreement in the emptiness of her living room.

“Uh…yeah?” She pressed.

“Oh good! You’re home. I thought I was going to have to bug Anita instead and she’s the last one I want to talk to.”

“Who’s Anita?” Sydney paused before asking although she had a feeling who, “And who am I speaking with?”

“She’s on our floor,” you shift from one leg to the other feeling the violent urge to pee, “with the big 80’s curly hair, she talks to herself and at times it is a little concerning and she’s a bit of a Karen. You’ll know once you see her when she’s constantly asking if you live here after seeing her a handful of times and as for me? I’m one of your best neighbors, Ms. Lady with the Colorful hair scarfs.”

“It’s Sydney.” She replies and you nod your head finding that name to be fitting, “Oh yeah, the other guy with the abnormally big octopus tattoo on his cheek told me about you. You always forget to bring your keys, right?”

Oscar.

You thought to yourself in irritation, “Oscar raw dog’s his crocs, so you shouldn’t take his word for anything.”

Sydney laughs, finding this apartment building much more entertaining (so far) than the one she left previously behind but never her dad. “Am I sensing a little tension there or…”

“That’s another story for another time! Can you please buzz me in or else I’m going to have to go right on this sidewalk and I really don’t need another public indecency charge.”

You were honest, Sydney could admit but she also didn’t want to be the one to let a stranger, if you were a stranger into the building if you weren’t really who you said you were you know?

“…how do I know you really live here and aren’t just stalking one of the other tenants?” Sydney quizzed, trying to remember just what you looked like in passing.

“Because stupid Oscar told you I like to forget my keys on purpose?” You remind while Sydney slowly realizes this, although you can’t see this revelation on her face you keep going, “I live at the end of the hall from you, I even used to date Oscar’s sister, but she cheated on me and tried to gaslight me and then took the dog—which honestly looked like a fucking dust bunny in the dark so I’m not really all that upset about it—

“What kind of dog?” She chortles, but the curiosity is also evident beneath it.

You started dancing to the beat of The Fresh Prince in your head, which somehow always worked when you were about to piss on yourself—apologies for being unladylike or unpersonlike but hey when you have to go you have to go, “some Asian breed that starts with a P…Pekingese? Yeah Pekingese!”

“…I don’t know what the hell that is?” Sydney pats at her scalp.

“It’s like a failed experiment of a pug and Pomeranian!” You inform, “It’s actually awful looking, and my know it all sister would scold me for being discriminatory to animals but whatever! Um, How else can I convince you person in the nice cold building while I’m out here at risk of getting a heat stroke?! The basement is horror level scary so if you have to go down there—make sure you have somebody with you or just don’t? There’s also a squeaky floorboard in the middle of our hallway, a weird stain on the wall that’s shaped like a top hat?” You ramble.

A buzzing noise sounds right after your last word and you deeply exhale, yanking the front door open to hold with your backside while you rolled your bike in. “Thanks neighbor! Hope to run into you soon.”

“Ah, dont mention it!” You hear Sydney call, “and maybe invest in a clip for your keys?”

“With the way my cobweb bank account is set up? Not likely, girl! Timmy the toilet is calling my name! Catch you later!”

Sydney shakes her head, letting go of the button to glance at her open laptop and sigh choosing to head into the kitchen instead for some frozen waffles for dinner.

Despite the fact that Sydney is hardly at her new apartment, she finds a paper bag with handles on her door knob when she gets in one night. Carefully she peeks in it while opening the door to her apartment, once inside she pulls out a new satin scarf. It’s a golden yellow with white polka dots on it with a note attached.

~Welcome to the building + thanks for letting me in the other day. I think you’ll like this? If not? I’d never know! —your neighbor ____at 84H.

Which started something between you two without really knowing each other. All you knew was each other’s names now, you had handwriting that honestly resembled calligraphy—something Sydney would have never guessed you were into but you also picked up that when you did see Sydney, she seemed to have a scarf covering her braids majority of the time. She wore them well so you thought why not? It wasn’t anything overly expensive but it was thought that counts?

~What’s your go to midnight snack? —your neighbor Syd @ 84D.

Was on a lime green post it on your door days later. It became your thing, leaving little notes every couple of days on each others door, in a way it became a silent message to let each other know that you both were still around even if you never had the chance to officially be face to face.

So you attempted to draw a horrible picture of what that may be and then drew an x right over it. You weren’t crafty in that way, writing a message beside the terrible picture saying: a struggle meal. A grilled cheese but jelly as the cheese and jalapeño chips. Are you a board game person or video gamer?

Days seemed to get hectic after that in the both of your lives that the post it game seemed to die down just a little. Summer hours seemed to increase since the two teenagers that you worked alongside of preferred to be outside rather than inside—you didn’t blame them. One of them ended up quitting, the other lied and said they sprained their ankle but their Instagram said they were really hanging out at the river, so it was down to you and your elderly coworker Janice, who was actually in chronic pain, and then your manager was “temporarily,” on leave after a customer complained of sexual harassment.

The look you and Janice shared said enough, you believed the customer.

So now you had a new manager from fucking North Dakota…you had no clue what was even out there and they had a whole different approach. They had a neighborly spirit that you wished the scarce people at your building had—except for Sydney of course. The new manager was actually out on the floor, greeting customers and asking if they needed any help! They even gave you and Janice a choice during your eight hour shift, you can alternate between the register and stocking or just pick your role for the shift. They also kept checking in making sure the both of you were well mentally (ha!) and if you needed to take a ten minute break before your actual lunch.

She was a dream but definitely wouldn’t last.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride?” The North Dakotan asked, already in her pick up truck as you fumbled around with the chains to your bike.

Janice already beeped her horn twice in her Volkswagen Beetle, speeding out of the parking lot with Fleetwood Mac flowing from the windows. You snickered, hand waving in the air as you turned back to the chains, finally getting it unlocked.

“Thanks for the offer but one thing about me, I love this bike more than anything and as long as I can still ride it? I’ll choose this over any car or train any day.”

The manager smiles, “alright then, you have a good night. Get home safe, will you?”

“I’ll try my best.”

You’re limping towards your apartment, it’s late and the sky had this milky fog to hide the sense of dread—or was it grief that sat in your heart? You’re just at your door, body sore, spokes ruined from your bike but as bad as you felt you heard the huffing and sniffing from your left.

Picking up on the braids right away, you know it’s Sydney and it doesn’t appear that she’s having a good night although she’s dressed as if the night was supposed to be. Leaving your bike against your door, you pause, debating if you wanted to get involved or if she would even want to bothered with you while she’s having a moment. You use the act of your post it’s as the okay to be neighborly and check on your neighbor at the end of the hall.

The hallway feels like forever to get to Sydney but her round eyes widen in bewilderment as she feels you groaning to plop down next to her.

“Oh my god,” she gasps as she scans over your features with damp under eyes, “…w-what happened to you?”

Lolling your head to meet her gaze, you grin at her, ignoring the sting of the scrape on your chin and say, “I might have saw hell not too long ago.”

Sydney shifts, using the back of her hand to wipe at her nose, “I—don’t know how to respond to that.”

You explain, “Well apparently we all have to go somewhere—if you believe in that kind of thing. And I guess the person upstairs said let me show you as I turned into a speed bump.”

“You were hit by a car?!” Sydney yells, although her own head felt like someone was letting the air out of a balloon and her heart felt like it pulsating in a way that was probably too slow, with her veins feeling like the whipping of traffic on the freeway.

You knew that look, even had some pill bottles that actually became decor pieces on your bedside table that were supposed to help calm the track runner fuzzies inside to relax…but the concern was evident on her face yet it wasn’t really about you tonight, this was your first time officially meeting and the both of you looked like shit. Well maybe you more so but Sydney definitely felt like it.

“Worse,” you say searching your back pocket for the rolled up pack of gummies, “A electric scooter, that looked a whole lot like my teenage little shit of a co-worker who’s been out on injury.”

You held out the gummy bears to Sydney, lifting your gaze to meet dark brown hues once more. There’s laughter that bubbles in her chest as she envisions it, her large front teeth poked out behind her lips.

“I don’t mean to laugh at you—

“Eh, I do it all the time! Glad I could be of service to you.” You tip your imaginary hat, “And you know what he had to nerve to say to me after we both skidded across the street? That I scuffed up his kicks, when he was on the wrong side of the road!”

Sydney cupped her mouth, other hand holding onto a green gummy bear, “No! That’s so wrong.”

“If he ever decides to come back to work…I’ve got something for him.”

“A hospital bill?”

“Oh no! Hospitals give me the ick. All medical people do.”

Sydney tilts her head to the side at this, unsure what to fully make of that but somehow understood, however felt like she should still be slightly concerned that you didn’t get yourself checked out! considering how scrapped up and how your hair was basically mangled. Also who knew what you looked like underneath your summer attire…Sydney was no doctor but you seemed kinda careless!

“I’m afraid to ask.” Sydney bites off the head of the candy.

“Stick him on the register and sneak out for the day once the lines start to pick up. I hate to do it to our new manager since she seems cool but…it’s what he deserves.” You tighten your eyes wickedly.

Sydney slowly nods her head at this and snorts, “where do you work?”

“Dollar general,” you say with a shrug, “you?”

Sydney deeply sighs, “I’m a chef.”

“Oh-ho! Chef Sydney. I knew there was something special about you, neighbor.” You state.

Sydney shakes her head, “No, it’s not anything really.”

“Are you kidding? That’s admirable! Unless…that’s what has you out here when the party is clearly inside?” You connected the dots, hearing some laughter beyond her door, quickly analyzing her face and kicking yourself for not keeping your inside thoughts to yourself in that moment.

Sydney pulls her bottom lip into her mouth and closes her eyes.

“You know…you never did get back to me on you being a board game person or a video gamer.” Your attempt to ease her anxieties was a nice gesture, really.

Sydney took her time (which you were patient to), sucking air in between her teeth and digging her palms into her eye sockets, “uh…board game. My favorite is: Sorry!”

Your eyes turn into slits at that and Sydney, slowly removes her hands from her eyes to look at you. “Really?”

“What? What’s wrong with sorry?”

You start to raise your hands in surrender but stop your movements as your everything aches, “Nothing. I would have thought clue, connect four, maybe even scrabble?”

“Scrabble?” Sydney scoffs, “I rather eat a block of blue cheese without a glass of water.”

Scrunching up your lips at that you quiz, “are you lactose intolerant?”

“Only the weak minded are.”

“Oh?! That’s not very empathic of you.”

You both match each other’s stares but you crack a smile first before Sydney follows through with a burst of laughter.

“You’re judging me? when you’re the one who isn’t empathic to your stomach and makes a grilled jelly sandwich stuffed with jalapeño chips of all things?” Sydney holds her stomach as she laughs.

You’re laughing with her while arguing, “I never specified if I stuffed it or not. It could have been on the side, thank you.”

Which only makes her laugh harder, the both of your shoulders touching as the sound echoes throughout the hall. There’s tears streaming down her cheeks again for different reasons while your stomach clenches with humor.

Of course that is broken up by someone clearing their throat. Both of you turn to Oscar who’s standing there holding his groceries.

“What’s so funny tonight ladies?”

You stop laughing so you can reply, “that outfit you thrifted.”

Oscar scowls, “now I see why my sister left you.”

“Fuck off! You’re probably the main one that supports her OnlyFans career.”

Sydney gasped at that while Oscar sent you a middle finger, leaving you two alone as he travels down the opposite hall to his apartment.

Glaring at him, he casts another glance in your direction and you do the honors of placing your own middle finger right against the lips you kissed at him. He quickly looks away, nearly throwing himself into his apartment with a slam of his door.

Leaning into Sydney again, you both laugh until it’s hard to breathe and that feeling is both familiar on both ends. Once you catch your breaths, you lean away to hold out your unscraped hand for her to shake, “Hey, Chef Sydney. It was nice talking to you and meeting you.”

“Likewise.” She gives a small smile while shaking your hand before you groan and moan getting back to your feet.

And she stays outside a little longer, mostly to collect herself and watch you make it back to your front door and battered bike. You send a peace sign as a goodnight, limping into your apartment after softly clicking your door shut.

Sydney sits, clasping her hands together thinking over that small moment, not realizing how important it would later be as the days continued on.

“There you are,” The British voice catches her attention and she takes his hand as he helps her to her feet.

Luca halts her movements, checking in with Sydney as she tries to brush away what that was from her face, although it clearly wasn’t something she could ignore as the problem was already on the surface.

She begins to follow Luca back into the party, stopping in the door way as she peeks back at your door, already thinking about what to say to you next on a lime green post it, while letting some laughter shine in her eyes.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Continue with my summer anthology writings & prompts here.

#Spotify #queued #sydney adamu #sydney adamu x reader #Sydney adamu x f reader #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear season 3 #the bear s3 #summer writings #the bear fanfiction #ayo edebiri

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m-oddinsdottir · 7 months

Text

🍒☀️💋.

HERS

Venetia Catton x fem!reader

Summary: another normal summer at Saltburn, however, this time the secret can’t be kept anymore.

Warning(s): oliver quick

Note: I just can’t believe no one has made a Venetia one shot yet

A message appeared on the screen of your phone, the blue light that radiated from it brightened up the frown in your face as your lips pressed together in a thin line. «Don’t get mad, love. But this Ollie you told me about, he’s here.» You couldn’t help but scoff, so, in the end, Felix did invite him regardless of yours and Farleigh’s complaints.

One of your hands passed through your eyes for a second trying to cover your sight from the bothering light. Then, you texted a quick response. «Fucking Felix. I’m almost there.»

You weren’t the best of friends with Oliver, at first, you tried to be nice, you were keen on making new friends and adding more variety into your group. However, there was something off about him; sometimes, you had caught him staring at you through the distance which wouldn’t be weird if he didn’t have that oddness in his eyes, that creepiness, that… You couldn’t even describe it.

So, of course, you told Venetia who reassured you saying that it was probably you being paranoid. Which would be coherent due to your tendency of freaking out in the most insignificant situations. If it weren’t for Farleigh, who thought exactly the same, maybe not for the creepy part but he also knew he didn’t particularly enjoy Oliver Quick’s presence.

Felix, on the other hand, seemed to have become so close to him in only a few months. It wasn’t a secret that Felix attracted people, not only due to his appearance but also because of his personality. He was extroverted, had a great sense of humor and on top of that he was kind, maybe too much sometimes. This last trait was the reason why he had invited Oliver “Er… It’s just that his father has died” You remember him explaining to you why it wouldn’t be just you four that summer which sounded like pity.

Venetia usually invited you to spend each summer vacation in the manor as you couldn’t visit your family because of them living too far away. You just couldn’t afford the trip. But of course that wasn’t the only reason why, the box dyed blonde and you had been dating for almost two years now. It all started when Felix invited you to a party in Saltburn where you met his parents and, specially, where you met his sister. It was an instant connection, you remember being in one of Saltburn’s multiple balconies when she appeared, her long gown shining under the moonlight and the cigarette hanging from her lips “And you are…?” She had asked uninterested “I can think about a tone of adjectives but I will let you discover them for yourself” Then, you told her your name and the rest was history.

Despite this, nobody knew. Not your friends in college, neither Elspeth nor Sir James. The only ones that knew were Far and Felix, however it was hard not to when you two were all over each other during the summer.

But now, with Oliver also there… He couldn’t know, if he did everyone would also do and Venetia and you were just not ready for it. More you than Venetia, after all you didn’t want everyone to think that you were with her just for her family’s money. Everyone would have thought that as you had never told anyone you were also interested in girls neither have you ever shown it as your whole dating history was filled with guys. To be honest, you didn’t even know it yourself until you met her.

Soon, you arrived at Saltburn. A soft smile was placed in your lips trying to act as if there was nothing wrong by the time you entered the place. Duncan, the butler, welcomed you with his usual seriousness and your smile grew due to the sight of a familiar face.

"You know we will carry your luggage, my lady. There’s no need to carry them yourself.” He said while a few other workers grabbed the bags from your hands.

“And as always you know I don’t like to be a burden.”

Duncan shook his head, a complicity look in his eyes. “A guest like you would never be.”

A laugh escaped from your chest and then you rolled your eyes playfully. “Lord, that’s for sure.”

Duncan waited for your luggages to be carried away before speaking again. “Let me escort you to the dining room, the Catton’s are having lunch.”

You raised an eyebrow as you started to walk with the main butler. “Just the Cattons?”

“I’m afraid not.” He answered so a sight was forced to leave your lips.

With the company of Duncan, you entered the dining room finding there the whole family… and Oliver. You restrained from rolling your eyes.

“Darling! You’re finally here.” Elspeth stood up to greet you, she hugged you and then held your cheeks with affection “How can it be that you get prettier every summer?”

“It’s just you Elspeth who sees me with loving eyes. And I should ask the same for you!” The blonde smiled as a response to the compliment before stepping away from you. “Oh, darling” The oldest woman laughed as you approached the rest of the family members.

Sir James welcomed you with a big smile in his face as you gently squeezed his shoulder. Then you walked towards Farleigh, hugging him from behind as you surrounded his shoulders with your arms placing a kiss in his cheek. “Finally, you’re here. I couldn’t bare it any longer” He murmured so you laughed “Don’t worry, we will team up”

Then you approached Felix and your fingers gently brushed through his long hair under the eyes of Oliver. Felix looked up with a pout in his lips. “I’m sorry. I recall what you said but…” He said in a sight before you interrupted him “There’s no need to, it will still be a great summer. I’m sure.”

Lastly, you eagerly walked towards Venetia who was waiting with a tempting smile on her dark lips. Her big eyes travelled through your body up and down as you tried to cover the excitement held in your body to finally have her in your arms.

You hugged her from behind, burying your face in the hollow of her neck. Breathing in her scent, your lips pressed a soft kiss in her pale skin being covered from her parent’s eyes thanks to her long hair. “I missed you” You just whispered before stepping away from her.

“I missed you too” She whispered back.

The moment lingered for a few seconds in time as you looked into each other’s eyes, despite this it was soon broken apart by another voice. A new voice, a voice that didn’t belong there.

“That was it? I was expecting something more… enthusiastic.” Oliver’s voice, of course it was him talking. You stood up, stepping away from Venetia as your eyes locked into his’.

“What do you mean Ollie?” A fake smile was placed on your lips as you turned around slowly to look at Felix, scared that he could have told him something but he looked as confused as you.

“Well, darling, if I haven’t seen someone so dear to me in such a time I would be more…” He spoke with innocence in his voice making a frown appear in your face “I don’t think you have a say in how I greet this family”

Oliver smiled while tilting his head, he had a confused expression as he looked around facing the reactions of the other members. “Not this family but your girlfriend…”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. How could he know? You looked at Felix dead in the eyes, maybe he had told him while being drunk. That was the only reasonable explanation, Farleigh couldn’t have told him anything and it was shown in the way he stood up, hands clenching and unclenching under the table “What the hell Ollie?!” Felix spoke more loudly than the tone he would usually speak in.

The room suddenly stopped before spinning around, you heard Elspeth call your name but you couldn’t hear any of the words that slipped from her lips. Venetia looked at you, she was worried, you could sense it but you were unable to speak or even move.

“What? I… I thought everyone knew” Oliver looked confused and you heard Farleigh’s voice filled with anger afterwards “Clearly not everyone did! But how do you…?” His question was soon answered by the boy “I was in the bathroom when Felix was talking to you about it… I just overheard it but it’s not a big deal, right?”

Once again, you looked at Felix whose eyes darted around the room in a mixture of confusion and worry. Then, you stormed out of that place leaving behind the voice of Elspeth calling your name and a fast trace of footsteps following you.

You walked towards the room you were usually assigned before someone stopped you grabbing your wrist and making you turn around. Encountering Venetia’s eyes, a shaky sight left your lips by the same time your hands began to shake. “I didn’t… I didn’t want it to be like this.”

Venetia smiled as she placed a rebel strand of hair behind your ear, her hand cupping your face as you moved yourself closer to her trying to calm down. You wrapped your arms around her waist, moving your head from her hands to hide it in her neck.

“Love… It’s alright. My parents they won’t be mad, I’m sure they even suspected it.” At a slowly pace, her fingers traveled through your back in a known pattern that made you sigh again. “I… It’s just, fucking Ollie”

“Yeah” She laughed softly stepping away slightly to look into your eyes “Fucking Ollie”

Venetia caught a glimpse of your lips before meeting them in the halfway of the path towards your room and also your heart. Each time you were with her, every single caress, every hug, every kiss, it just contributed to her sticking into you even deeper. Your foreheads pressed together after the kiss, making your even breathing mix with hers and for a moment you were unable to open your eyes. You just wanted to stay in her arms forever.

sorry if there’s any grammatical mistake or similars, I haven’t written in english for such a long time lol

pt. 2??

#venetia catton #venetia x reader #venetia catton x reader #saltburn #saltburn x reader #felix catton #farleigh start #oliver quick #saltburn oneshot #saltburn fic #salrburn imagine

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angelsknifeprty · 3 months

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What would Sadie Adler be like being the fem!eader's girlfriend? I love she🩵

sadie as your girlfriend hcs ✿⋆.˚⊹

ways to help palestine | operation olive branch | keep eyes on sudan | haiti’s history | learn about congo

‧₊˚౨ৎ before the two of you started dating she was unexplainably protective over you. she was already very protective of the gang, leaping into action whenever there was danger. but she always seemed to have her eyes trained on you, watching like a hawk for if you were in any sort of trouble

‧₊˚౨ৎ this only intensifies when she finally gets to call you hers. you were always the first person she’d check on both in and after any danger. she’d rush to your side to protect you and make sure you weren’t too shaken up afterwards. her arm would constantly be wrapped protectively (and possessively) around your waist. when sadie was around you didn’t have to worry about taking shit from anybody, they’d have to go through her first

‧₊˚౨ৎ “you redirect that attitude to me, ‘cause if i hear another word leave that filthy mouth o’ yours, i’ll kill ya.”

‧₊˚౨ৎ she’s very generous with her death threats but to anyone who knows her or has any common sense, they know she’s not joking

‧₊˚౨ৎ despite her harsh exterior and brutal nature, she’s actually a big softie. she’s a fan of mushy pet names, calling you “sweetheart”, “angel”, “pretty girl”, you name it. and she’s not worried about calling you these in front of people. most think she’d shy away from it as she has a reputation for being a bit hot-headed and intimidating. but she holds her own well enough for there to be no doubt about whether she’s truly a threat or not, just for her to then turn around and dote on you like nothing happened

‧₊˚౨ৎ she is very possessive and loves calling you hers. what’s hers is hers and that will be known, every affectionate name having “my” in front of it

‧₊˚౨ৎ loves doing things for you, always talking about how she isn’t a fan of sitting around and not doing much. if she sees miss grimshaw is wearing you rather thin she won’t hesitate to come and take some tasks off of your hands, even though she prefers the more hands on dirty work the gang gets up to. but if it was for you, she’d do just about anything

‧₊˚౨ৎ if you aren’t already able to she’d teach you how to defend yourself, always worrying over what might happen if she’s not around to protect you. the idea of that makes her feel helpless, which she hates, so it brings her some comfort to make sure you’re capable of taking care of yourself if needed

‧₊˚౨ৎ she loves to fluster you. she is absolutely not shy when teaching you how to shoot, pressing herself up against you as she readjusts your posture and gives you directions in that raspy voice of hers. you swear she wants you to start messing up when she whispers a proud, “atta girl,” after a particularly good shot. “my pretty girl’s doin’ so good.”

‧₊˚౨ৎ you are the only person she’ll play the harmonica for. she was very reserved about it at first, nobody but her late husband getting to hear her play. but when she feels herself becoming more at ease with you she’ll occasionally let you stick around while she plays. you of course respect her and her privacy but on days where she can’t bring herself to dismiss your company, she lets you stay

“alright, you can stay, darlin’. but ya can’t laugh if i mess up, okay?”

‧₊˚౨ৎ she is actually very upfront about her feelings. she’s quite openly vulnerable, though she wishes she wasn’t. she’s a tough cookie to break but sees the importance of being honest with you (she’s so applejack coded aaaa) and doesn’t like leaving tension in the air if you’re upset with each other or one of you is going through a hard time

‧₊˚౨ৎ will absolutely spoil you with her bounty hunting money. what better way to spend her time after chasing down crooks than giving you whatever you wanted? it also wouldn’t hurt to give you any shiny trinkets she took from the pockets of her newest catches, they wouldn’t be needing them anyway once they were behind bars

‧₊˚౨ৎ literally the best girlfriend ever, i firmly believe she devotes her every breath to doing right by you <3

a/n: i love sadie sm i wanna write for her more !! i hope you enjoyed :D xoxo

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #sadie adler x reader #sadie adler #sadie adler rdr2 #sadie adler fanfiction #sadie adler headcanons #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fluff #sadie adler fic #sadie adler imagine

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sweetbuckybarnes · 3 months

Text

Are You so Desperate to Get Away From Me?

Pairings: Colin + Penelope Bridgerton

Summary: After Penelope tells Colin and Eloise about Cressida blackmailing her, instead of Colin speaking to Cressida - Penelope decides to take the situation back into her own hands.

Main Masterlist | Polin Masterlist

"You have made that high a sum?" Eloise asks.

"Slightly more, if we are being honest..." Penelope trails off.

Eloise and Colin looked at their best friend/wife in surprise. "All this time?" Portia asks.

Penelope looks down at the tip of her shoes which just about poked out beneath her dress.

"You are not paying her," Colin tells her, walking away, determined to come up with a plan.

Penelope looked from Colin to her mother, who was encouraging this behaviour, then over at Eloise who simply nodded.

Penelope had always been a daddy's girl, it broke her heart when he died, and the reason why nearly broke her completely. But in the same aspect, she was also her father's daughter. She nodded back, turned on her heel and headed out of Bridgerton House to the house she shares with Colin.

If anyone was going to quieten Cressida, it was going to be her.

After retrieving the sum for the floorboards, she made her way by carriage to the Cowper House.

"A visitor for you, Miss. Cowper," her lady's maid told her. "One Mrs. Penelope Bridgerton," she moved out of the way, so the short redhead could walk in. This was the first time she had even been called 'Mrs. Bridgerton' but it wasn't by her husband.

Cressida and her mother stood up, welcoming the newly married woman. "May Mrs. Bridgerton and I have a moment alone, mama?"

Her mother's eyes bounced back and forth between Cressida and Penelope, before relenting and retreating.

"I see you have come to your senses?" Cressida asked.

"Is this truly how you want to be banished from society?"

"Because of you!"

Penelope shook her head. "No, Cressida. You did it to yourself. When I wrote as Whistledown, I was never, never harsh or insulting. You tore every family to shreds, just because their daughter was not your friend or their son rejected you."

Cressida bristled at her words. Penelope lifted her shawl and collected the packet she had brought. After the redhead had passed over the packet to the blonde, she looked at the pound notes. "This is not ten thousand."

Penelope shook her head. "No. It is twelve, and if you spend it right, it should get you to wherever you wish to go and live the rest of your life in luxury."

Cressida looked between the money and the famed Lady Whistledown. "I did not think you would pay me, even such a large sum."

Penelope shrugs her shoulders. "I know we have never gotten along, we are more like chalk and cheese than anything else. But I do hope you find what you are looking for."

Just as Penelope was going to leave, Cressida called. "Are you going to write more Whistledown columns?"

Penelope makes a little noise from her nose. "Whistledown has caused too much pain, I think it is time to let her go. And maybe I could turn to novels for my nephew and niece," her sister-in-law Daphne's two young children Augie and Belinda.

Cressida nodded, watching as the redhead left. She looked at the packet and where Penelope had just left.

Penelope returned to Bridgerton House, after her conversation with Cressida, seeing her mother and Colin still discussing a way to deal with her.

Penelope picked up a sandwich from a plate, walked past the pair and went to take a seat beside Eloise.

"I will just have to go speak to Cressida and beg for her mercy," Colin sighs, leaning back into the chair he had claimed and running a hand along his face.

"Do you really believe Cressida believes in mercy?" Penelope asks, sitting down beside Eloise. "Besides, I have dealt with the situation."

"You paid her?"

"Where do you think I have been for the past two hours?" Penelope says, taking a bite of her sandwich, only glancing at her husband's face for a moment - seeing the guilt flood it. He hadn't noticed she had left.

She let out a sigh and stuffed the remaining of her sandwich in her mouth. "Oh, Penelope," her mother sighed, catching the unladylike movement.

She got up from where she was sitting and was just about to leave the drawing room. "Where are you going?" Colin asks.

"I was going to spend some time with Gregory and Hyacinth and then I am going to visit my new sister," as she walked away, she stopped on the edge of the drawing room doorway. "It might be nice to bond with Augie and Belinda, especially after Daphne's open invitation after the engagement was announced.

Not our engagement, the engagement.

Colin got up from his seat. "Hastings is a day's ride away, Pen. Are you so desperate to get away from me?"

Penelope looks at him. "I believe it is you, who has been keeping your distance, Mr. Bridgerton. I shall leave you to decide how you want our marriage to continue."

Penelope sat in the drawing room of Hastings House, waiting for her new sister. She admired the wall fixings and the paintings.

"Penelope? What are you doing here, where is Colin?" Daphne asked as she walked into the drawing room, carrying Belinda.

Penelope sighed gently, looking down at the end of her dress. "Colin and I are currently not on the best terms... I thought I should leave the house to him, and if it is possible, I could stay here until he knows where he wants our marriage to go."

"Oh, Penelope," Daphne took a seat next to her new sister, making sure Belinda was safely cradled in her lap. "Why have you fallen out?"

Penelope looks over at Daphne. "I am Whistledown..."

Daphne's eyes widened, and looked at the tiny redhead, who is also the notorious gossip writer. Who saved her from a disastrous marriage to Lord Berbrooke. The duchess nodded her head. "Do not worry, Penelope. You can stay here as long as you need."

"Thank you, Daphne. Are you sure you want Lady Whistledown staying in your home?"

Daphne took Penelope chin between her fingers. "You saved me from a horrible marriage to Lord Berbrooke, and you supported my marriage to Simon, as well as Anthony's marriage to Kate. Even with all the somewhat harsh things you have written, you have always tried to put your best foot forward."

The following day, Penelope was spending time with Augie in the nursery. She had a large smile on her face and laughed happily when the door opened and Daphne revealed herself.

"Penelope? There is someone here to see you," the duchess tells her new sister-in-law.

Penelope looked away from her nephew to Daphne. There was only one person who could be asking for her, and it wasn't her mother or Eloise. She let out a sigh, she had to speak to her husband - no matter what the outcome might be.

"Are you ready?" Daphne asks.

Penelope shrugs her shoulders. "Not particularly, but I do not have a choice."

Augie's governess came back into the nursery and took over from where Penelope finished.

Sat there, sitting on one of the settees was Colin, tapping his fingers on the armrest. "Pen!" He quickly got up from the settee and waited for Penelope to join him - but she stayed about a foot away.

"Good morning, Mr. Bridgerton."

Colin's nose twitched. He hated it when she called him Mr. Bridgerton. "I had tried to separate you from Lady Whistledown, because I could not comprehend how my best friend could be the most notorious gossip writer in London. But, when I was reading the letters you had sent me, I realised. You have always had one voice. The sweet, caring, quick witted best friend who have been so lucky enough to fall in love with."

Penelope took a few steps forward so she was within arms reach of Colin.

"I think, in truth, I... I have been envious of you, of your success, of your bravery. And now, I simply cannot believe that a woman with such bravery, loves me. How lucky I am, to stand by your side, and soak up even a little but of your light. If my only purpose in life is to love a woman as great as you, then I will be a very fulfilled man indeed."

#polin #colin x pen #pen x colin #penelope x colin #colin x penelope #colin bridgerton #penelope bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #portia featherington #daphne basset #augie basset #belinda basset #bridgerton season 3

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cardboardheartss · 4 months

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Nara Smith D1 Chart Analysis + Astrocatoraphy

Firstly Nara is a Sharavana Nakshatra/Moon native. Which actually explains why she is soo beautiful! Mainly her eyes, her eyes are the 1st thing you could possibly notice about Nara along with her cute bunny smile too!

Nara has her Dhanishtha Uranus, Shravana Neptune, Shravana Moon and obviously a Shravana Ascendant. Nara has a capricorn (Vedic) stellium which actually makes sense because her bone strucutre is really prominent and her body type is lean. Saturn aslo rules the skin too and Nara has openly spoken about her skin condition eczema (twinnie lol).

Naras Uranus is sextile her Jyeshtha Chiron (11H), this could mean Nara has had unfortunate problems with friendships and this had probably made her transform to better/worse, and worse in a sense of her building her guard up and being more careful on picking friends. This 11H placement could possibly also represent the immense hate she receives on social media but she is able to control herself and not let her emotions get to her.

Nara has a 2H lilith in Shatabhisha at 10 degrees, and that is a Capricorn degree! Nara loves her money to be quite honest, and remeber Capricorn is ruled by saturn, saturn is the time/age lord. Nara married Lucky Blue Smith, who is 3 years older than her. Her Purva Phalguni Venus is in her 8H, which represents peoples finances and it is common for SOME but NOT ALL 8H venus to marry into money.

Nara’s Venus is also sextile her Swati MC (10H), this makes because when she uploads her video she always dresses up to the T! Her outfits look like they cost a lot of money, and also the cutlery and plating she uses seem to have quite expensive pricing.

Nara’s Chitra Mercury in the 10H at 3 degrees (cancer degree) made me giggle lol! Nara is also known for speaking in a really soft and soothing voice! The 10H represents fame and what things one could be known for based off the planets and Nara has her Mercury, the sign of communication. Andd i am certain we all have seen the “Nara Smith Style” trend going on, and people literally mimic her voice and her actions too!

Now for her 6H placements! Overall, the 6H represents diets, routines, work andd hygiene. Nara has her Ardra Jupiter and Rahu in this cusp! SHE WAS BORN TO DO THIS!! Firstly one thing we obviously have to point out is… have you not noticed how clean and well edited Nara’s videos are?

+another thing i would like to point out is how Gemini rules over Mercury, and her Mercury is in her 10H, andd people on social media mimic the same voice tone and actions she does in her videos.

She is percise, and i blame that on her Hasta (Virgo) Sun lol! Nara uploads videos EVERYDAY and she is cooking, which can mean it is in fact her daily routine at times though… i mean a fan posted a picture of her standing in line at Shake Shack lol! Her Jupiter, planet of luck, she will obviously gain a lot from this and she really is good at what she does… it almost seems natural if you ask me!

Nara has her Hasta Sun in the 9H. One thing i would have to point out is her possible or proven devotion to her religions. Her Sun is squaring her Jupiter, and we all had seen the discourse about her religion and that had unfortunately led her to get a hate train, and it some how made her lose support as well.

Damn! She has another Capricorn degree in her Sun, with the Saturn degree there, it could represent that people who mess with her do in fact get their karma, and people did. Majority of users on social media are in full support of Nara now!

Nara’s Purva Ashadha Mars at 16 degrees (Cancer degree) is in her 12H, with that Water + Fire sign combination in MARS… i would avoid angering Nara because she could possibly get really scary. Her Maternal ancestors are there for 1000% and trust they will also go ham on you too if you mess with their baby lol. Now for Mula Ketu in this 12H as well, this could Nara really extroverted/introverted around those closest to her.

Nara also has her Ketu trine Venus, and this could mean that she has a lot of luck in terms of gaining an intrest in occult practices/astrology OR she could already have an intrest in it and is not overly sharing it with the public.

Overall, Nara is one extremely down-to-earth women. She knows how to create a business and is also a great mom, and she was born to be one too! thanks to her lucky Rohini POF and Vertex!

Astrocatography

For Naras Astrocatoraphy lines, she has the Chiron line passing right through her home country Germany! In her Tropical natal chart, Nara has a Sagittarius 11H Chiron, which once again points out how Nara could have grown up being excluded for being half-black or coming from an interracial relationship andd as well as being an African too!

Her Saturn line, which in her Natal chart is in the 5H in Gemini could also mean this delayed her opportunity of finding friends or this could also show that she had trouble learning the language quickly but she eventually got the hang of it!

Nara has her Moon line passing through South Africa, in her Natal Chart its 1H Aquarius Moon at 9 degrees (Sagittarius) . This could mean she feels quite detacthed or not South African enough because she had to emigrate when she was younger! but i hope she knows we support her fully over her this side lol! <3

Welp! Thats it for Nara Smith for nowww!

Thank you for reading!

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loveroftoomanyfandoms · 6 months

Text

Sweet on You, Chapter 4

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Story Summary: HERE

Warnings/Tags: Sugar Daddy!Matt Murdock, Idiots to Lovers, No Age Gap, Alternating PoV, No Use of Y/N, Fake dating (sort of)

Word Count: ~2500

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has liked and reblogged/commented thus far! Enjoy Matt and Reader's first official "not"-date!

As always, if you'd like to be tagged, please let me know!

Tag List (struck-through blogs could not be tagged): @danzer8705 @capylore @shouldbestudying41 @atemydadforbreakfast @peachy-flxwr @sleepysleepymom @fishinsuits @milkbummm @lazyxsquirrel @beezusvreeland @caughtthefever @bohemianrhapsody86 @yarrystyleeza @indestructeible @pepperthebi-spy

Divider by the always amazing @theradioactivespidergwen!

You were quiet as you and Matt headed towards the restaurant he had chosen for dinner, your mind still processing the contract as you walked.

To be honest, you hadn't expected the terms of the agreement to be quite so fair and even, and you definitely hadn't expected the increase in the amount of money Matt would be giving you per month.

Just from the little bit of time you had spent with him you could tell that he was honest, fair, and kind, and you couldn't help but wonder if maybe the reason Matt was paying you more was because you had told him about having joined S&S in order to help your mother with her medical bills, rather than his given reason of simply feeling that your time was worth more than the amount you had originally agreed upon due to what was being requested of you.

You mentally shook your head. No matter the reason, you were touched by Matt's fairness and generosity and were feeling better about having accepted his offer.

Matt slowed as the two of you approached Okinawa, a Japanese steakhouse where you sometimes picked up lunch for the partners. “We're here.”

He held the door open for you. “Ladies first.”

“Thank you.” You stepped inside.

“Good evening,” the seating hostess said.

“Hi,” Matt replied. “We have a reservation for 6 o’clock under ‘Murdock’.”

The hostess tapped at the tablet in front of her. “Yes, of course. Right this way.”

She led the two of you to a quiet table in the corner. “Here you go. Your server will be right with you.”

You took your coat off and draped it across the back of your chair, pleasantly surprised when Matt pulled your chair out for you. “Thank you.”

Matt took his own coat off and folded his cane, putting it in his jacket pocket before sitting across from you. “You're welcome.”

You cleared your throat. “So, how was your day today? Do any interesting lawyer stuff?"

Matt chuckled. “Depends on what you'd consider ‘interesting’. I mostly did paperwork -- briefings, evidence review, stuff like that, although I did meet with a few clients. What about you? How was your day?”

You shrugged. You weren't going to complain about your job, especially since this was your and Matt's first dinner together. “It was busy, but fine. Made the day go by faster.”

Matt nodded. “That's good at least.”

“Yeah.”

Your conversation paused as your server stepped up to your table. “Good evening, and welcome to Okinawa. My name is Katie and I'll be taking care of you tonight. Can I get you started with something to drink?”

Matt said your name. “Would you like to go first?”

“Oh.” You quickly glanced at the wine list that was on the table. “Um, yes, I’d like a glass of rosé, if you don't mind.”

Katie nodded. “Of course, ma'am. And for you, sir?”

Matt turned his face towards her. “Can I get a Sapporo, please?”

“Yes, sir. I'll get those drinks for you right away.”

You flipped open your menu as Katie left to go get your and Matt's drinks, inwardly gawking at the prices of the entreés. Maybe I can make do with a side salad for dinner. Or soup. Or a single piece of sashimi.

Matt seemed to be able to sense your panic, because he smiled gently at you. “Order whatever you’d like. It's on me, remember?”

You took a breath and nodded. “Right, okay.”

Katie returned with your drinks. “Alright, would you like any sushi or appetizers to get started?”

You shook your head. You would've loved to try some sushi and there were a few appetizers on the menu that looked interesting, but even though Matt had said to order whatever you wanted you didn't want to push it. “No thank you.”

Matt tilted his head curiously. “You sure?”

You glanced down at the table. Matt's focus was piercing, as if he could sense that you weren’t being truthful. “I'm sure.”

“Okay then. I'm good as well.”

Katie clicked her pen. “Do you need a few more minutes to look over the menu?”

Matt shook his head. “I'm ready if you are.”

You nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

Katie turned to you. “What can I get for you, ma'am?”

“Can I get…” You quickly scanned the menu and named something that sounded good but didn't cost an arm and a leg.

“Absolutely.” Katie wrote down your order before turning towards Matt. “And for you, sir?”

“I'd like the tuna steak, cooked medium.” Matt picked up his menu and handed it to Katie. “Thank you.”

Katie picked up your menu as well. “I'll get those right out for you.”

“So do you come here often?” you asked as Katie went to put in your orders.

Matt shook his head. “Not very. I mostly do takeout from the more casual places near my apartment, but since this is near the office my partners and I sometimes grab lunch from here, or we'll order in dinner if we're working late. What about you? Have you ever been here?”

You took a sip of your wine before answering. “I've picked up sushi from here for my boss and his colleagues, but I've never actually eaten here myself.”

Matt nodded. “The sushi's actually really good here. Maybe we can come back for lunch one day soon, sit at the sushi bar or a hibachi table.”

You glanced over at the hibachi tables as one of the chefs lit an onion volcano on fire to the delight of the people sitting there. “That would be nice.” If I get a proper lunch break ever again.

“I did think about booking us seats at a hibachi table for tonight, but then figured that something quieter and more intimate would be more appropriate for our first dinner together.” Matt waved a hand around the otherwise-quiet restaurant. “You know, in case we needed to discuss private matters regarding our arrangement.”

You nodded. In all honesty, you were glad Matt hadn't booked a hibachi table -- considering how much he was paying you just for your presence and how expensive the regular menu items were, you couldn't justify making him pay for a full hibachi dinner. “Right, of course.”

Matt took another sip of his beer. “Oh, I meant to ask you, how was lunch with your mom yesterday?”

You smiled. “It was nice. She and I made stir-fried noodles with homemade spring rolls.”

“Oh, that sounds great.”

You nodded. “It was. Mom and I both decided it was a keeper.”

“Do the two of you cook together a lot?”

“We used to before Mom got sick, but since she's been feeling better I think we might start up again.” You took another sip of your wine. “What about you, do you like to cook?”

Matt shook his head. “I don't really have time with my busy schedule. I'm either working or… well, working.”

You huffed out a light laugh. “No wonder you don't have time to date.”

Matt chuckled. “That's why I'm lucky that my best friends are also my business partners. I at least get to spend time with them, even if it's at work.”

Your conversation paused once again as Katie brought your dinners. After she had made sure that the two of you didn't need anything and left once again, you continued. “So how did you and your partners meet?”

Matt nodded. “Foggy and I were paired up as roommates our first year of college and quickly became friends, then once we graduated with our law degrees we decided to open our own firm together. Karen, our other partner, was actually our office assistant when Foggy and I first started the firm but eventually she earned her law degree and joined us as a partner.”

“Oh wow, that's so cool. No wonder the three of you are so close.”

Matt cut into his fish. “We've gone through a lot of tough times together but we made it out in the end.”

You took a bite of your own dinner. “Mmm. Oh, wow.”

Matt smiled at you. “Good?”

You nodded. “Yeah, it's excellent.”

“Good.”

The two of you ate in comfortable silence, Katie only interrupting once mid-meal in order to check on you.

Once you were both finished, Katie came up once again. “Can I interest you in any dessert tonight?”

You hesitated. You definitely felt like you could go for something sweet but you already felt like dinner was costing Matt enough. “I'm --”

“--Actually, yeah,” Matt said before you could wind up saying ‘I’m good, thanks’ . “Can we see the dessert menu, please?”

“Certainly,” Katie replied. “I'll be right back.”

She quickly went to grab a menu, then handed it to Matt. “Here you go. I'll be back in just a few minutes.”

Matt handed the menu to you as she left once again. “Is there anything that strikes your fancy?”

You glanced over it. “Actually, I think I could go for some ice cream.” Besides the fact that it was the cheapest dessert on the menu, after the day you'd had (with the past couple of hours excluded) you definitely needed ice cream, a hot shower, and some sleep -- in that order.

Matt nodded. “You know, actually, that sounds great. What flavors do they have?”

You looked down at the menu. “Vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, green tea, and red bean.”

“Okay.”

Katie came back. “Decided on anything?”

“Actually, yes.” Matt gave her his ice cream order.

You smiled. That was the flavor you had wanted as well. “Make that two, please.”

Katie picked up the menu. “Okay, I'll be right back with that.”

“By the way,” you said as she left to go put in your dessert order. “I’ve had a really nice time tonight. You’re easy to talk to.”

“Yeah, same,” Matt replied. “On both counts.”

Katie soon returned with your ice cream and so you and Matt lapsed into comfortable silence once again.

After the two of you had finished and Matt had taken care of the bill, you both stood and put your coats back on.

Matt walked around the table, one hand trailing along the top in order to guide him.

He stopped beside you and unfolded his cane. “Ready to head out?”

You nodded. “Mmhmm. I'm ready.”

“Um, I might need you to guide me outside if that's okay.”

“Yeah, of course.”

Matt gently took your elbow and you guided him back towards the front of the restaurant, stopping briefly to thank both Katie and the seating hostess before exiting the building.

Once you were back outside, Matt let go of your elbow. “Thanks. I've got it from here.”

You nodded. “No problem. I'm happy to help guide you whenever you need me to -- consider it part of the service.”

Matt chuckled. “Noted.”

“Are you heading home?”

Matt shook his head and pointed back towards the direction you had come. “I have a few more things I need to wrap up before I call it a night, so I'm heading back to the office.”

“Oh, okay. I'm actually headed in the opposite direction, so yeah, just let me know when you want to get together again and I'll…see you then?”

Matt nodded. “Oh, about that. I was actually thinking Thursday evening, if that works for you.”

You mentally ran through your schedule. You didn't think any of the partners had a late meeting that you'd need to stick around for that day, so… “Yeah, that should work.”

“Great. I'll text you on Wednesday to confirm.” Matt paused. “I’m thinking we could try to keep on a regular dinner schedule of Monday and Thursday just for simplicity’s sake, but I'll let you know as soon as possible if I ever need to reschedule because of work or anything.”

“That sounds good.”

“And I'll give you as much of a notice as possible on any other potential non-work-related outings, which’ll all likely be on the weekends given both of our work schedules.”

You nodded. Besides your weekly visits with your mom your weekends were usually pretty open otherwise. “Okay. So I'll see you on Thursday then?”

“Yeah. See you Thursday.”

“Goodnight, Matt.”

“Goodnight.”

You turned and headed towards your apartment.

You couldn't deny that Matt was attractive, and on top of that he was also sweet and attentive. Hanging out with him definitely isn't going to be a chore.

Matt headed back towards Nelson, Murdock, & Page until you were sufficiently far enough away to where he wouldn't catch up with you, then he doubled back to head home to his apartment. While he had wanted to do the gentlemanly thing and offer to walk you home, he hadn't wanted you to feel pressured to say yes, so instead he told you that he was heading back to the office.

Even though you had said that Matt was easy to talk to, he felt like you had been holding back from him. There had been times during your dinner together when you hadn't been entirely truthful -- the first time being when Matt had asked you how your day had been.

You had said that it had been fine, but the slight tension in your shoulders and the stress in your voice had told Matt otherwise. Either it had been busier than you had let on or something had happened at work to upset you, but either way you clearly hadn't wanted to talk about it.

The second time was when you had been looking at the menu. Matt had purposely chosen Okinawa because not only was it close to the office, but also because the two of you were celebrating the official start of your arrangement.

(And okay, maybe deep down Matt wanted to impress you just a tiny bit.)

He knew the place wasn't cheap -- he, Foggy, and Karen had only started eating there after Nelson, Murdock, and Page had retained enough high-profile clients for them to each earn comfortable livings while still being able to do the pro bono work they were passionate about -- and even then they only ate there on special occasions.

But despite Matt's reassurance that you order whatever you wanted, you had still declined ordering any sushi or appetizers even though you had spent several minutes reading over them, and -- if Matt’s memory served him correctly -- had ordered one of the cheapest entreés on the menu that wasn't a tasting plate.

(Not that there was anything wrong with what you did or didn't order -- Matt just had the feeling that you were uncomfortable with spending more of his money than what you thought you could or should.)

Luckily you had enjoyed your meal and had at least been willing to order the ice cream you had wanted for dessert -- even though it had been at Matt's prompting. I should probably take her somewhere less opulent on Thursday so she feels more comfortable.

He shook his head. He’d worry about that later -- he was going out on patrol once he showered and changed and needed to get into his Daredevil mindset. No distractions. That's the whole point of this arrangement.

#lotmf writes #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x female reader #Sweet on You Masterlist

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