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lustspren · 10 months ago

Text

P.S.T EP. 10 | A Little Piece of Heaven ft Winter.

length: 9.2k words✦

Winter & Male Reader

Special Guest: Noze.

genres: oral sex, rough sex, creampie, public sex, degradation, exhibitionism, squirt, voyeurism, bdsm, lesbian, dirty talk, sexual toy kink, scissoring

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"Uhm... don't kill me, please," you said with your hands clasped on the table, Noze sitting in front of you. You were in the hotel lobby, you had let Ning sleep a little longer since it was still quite early in the morning, but you needed to talk to the boss alone.

"Just fucking talk, you're making me nervous," she insisted, crossing her arms, she was looking at you so intently that you had to look away from her so as not to stutter while you spoke.

"I'm sorry," you took a deep breath, "well... I took Ning out through a back alley, but as you well know she wasn't feeling well at all," you began.

"She threw up in the alley?"

"Aha," you nodded, "I reached down with her and picked up her hair, and well, I got distracted."

"And?"

"Flashing lights and the sound of a shutter," you sighed, "some son of a bitch photographed us both, but I managed to catch him in time. Let's just say I got a little rough with him and told some little lies. I told him it was better to negotiate with me unless he wanted me to end his shitty career. 50k for the damn SD card," while you were saying that you took the SD card out of your pants pocket to leave it in front of her.

You stared at her, expecting her to grab a plane ticket from her handbag and send your stupid ass back to Korea, but instead she just laughed, leaving you visibly confused.

"Oh my God!" she said between laughs, "you did amazing!"

"Uh… did I?" You frowned.

"Are you kidding? Only 50k? That's a child's figure at this point," she picked up the SD card and examined it carefully before putting it in her handbag, "give me details, you're making it worth getting up at this hour." "

"...Sure," you nodded, still confused by how composed she looked, "uh... I told her I was SM's representative here in the United States," she burst out laughing again, you sighed.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, damn!" She was laughing at you in your face, and your poker face wasn't helping, "You? SM representative?" more laughter, "the whole branch would collapse!"

"Thank you, how sweet," you said sarcastically.

"Anything else worth noting?" she asked as her laughter faded.

"The son of a bitch cracked his head open and called it an insurance policy in case I scammed him. Then he gave me his contact card," you also took it out of your back pocket and handed it to her.

"He certainly is a son of a bitch, yes," she nodded, looking at the face of the guy on the card, "call him."

"Huh? Right now?"

"Yes, why not? I have a few words to say to him."

"Aight," you nodded, and pulled out your phone to dial the number on the card. As the call rang, you left your phone on the table between the two of you.

"Hello?" the man answered from the other side. Noze quickly grabbed your phone and stood up, walking a few feet away from the table to talk to him. You were left alone at the table, looking at the restaurant menu, already thinking about what you were going to order for breakfast. After a couple of minutes she returned, her expression letting you know that everything had gone well.

"Aight, everything in order," she said, taking her seat again, "later today there will be nothing to worry about," you sighed in relief.

"Fuck, thank god. I was so fucking scared when it all happened," you looked down at your lap, thinking about what would have happened if you hadn't been quick enough to catch that guy.

"I know, I can imagine," she nodded slowly, leaning back in her chair as she stared into space. She made a small silence, "... remember when I told you that SM had given me a second chance?" You looked up, you found her eyes on you.

"Yeah, what's up with that?"

"I think it's time for you to know what happened," she looked down, "in short..." she took a deep breath, "I was in a relationship with one of them," you stayed silent and raised both eyebrows in surprise. You waited for her to continue talking, but she was waiting for you to say something.

"I mean… damn," you didn't really know what to say, you had your slight suspicions about it thanks to certain behaviors of hers, but you never wanted to draw the wrong conclusions, "may I know who?"

"Joohyun-ssi..." you noticed how saying her name made her nostalgic, perhaps melancholy, but a small smile appeared on her face, "you know her as Irene."

"Holy fuck!" you exclaimed, this time genuinely surprised. You fell back and sank into the seat, “I don't know why I thought of Seulgi, how did it happen?”

"In the parking lot of her condo," she looked up at you, "there was a fucking bastard in one of the buildings across the street who took pictures of us while we were kissing."

"No way..." you muttered.

"Aha..." she nodded slowly, "luckily the photographer was only looking for money for the photos, and the girls' manager had to cough up a much larger amount of money than what you coughed up."

"How much?"

“250 million won,” your jaw almost dropped to the floor, that was close to 180 thousand dollars.

"What a damn vulture, that's too much."

"I know, but you see, every manager since then has a small fund for situations like this, so 50k is a pretty small amount compared to others."

"Has this happened to you before?"

"Nope, I'm pretty careful about that, but NCT Dream's manager had to cough up an amount close to 200k because one of them was caught smoking... you know."

"Poor boy," you sighed, "he just wanted to be high for a bit," you managed to get a laugh out of her.

"Anyway, I'm really glad you were able to save Ning like that," she said, looking at you with a smirk, "you're not completely useless after all."

"You're being such a sweetheart today," you said sarcastically.

"I know, right?" she responded, also sarcastically, "and since I'm such a sweetheart, I'm going to lift your punishment."

"It's about damn time, mother of god," you let out a breath and rolled your eyes up in relief, "what a torture."

"Just don't screw up again, honey," she placed her hand on yours across the table, "the girls love you, they'd be so sad if you left."

"And what about you? It seems like you've grown fond of me too now," you teased, seeing her hand on yours.

"Oh, look who's coming down," she said quickly, removing her hand to clasp them in her lap, she looked to your right. As you followed her gaze you saw the four girls walking together towards you, each one already dressed and ready to go out as soon as you finished breakfast.

Ning's outfit let you understand that she had been the last to wake up and had dressed as hastily as possible, but her exaggerated beauty prevented her from looking bad, no matter what she was wearing. She just wore a short black skirt and a tank top of the same color to look as cute as ever. She also carried a Miu Miu clutch.

Jimin, looking as comfortable and confident as ever, had her silky black hair down. A white tank top with small black stripes was her choice for today, along with a pair of white flared pants. Like Ning, she went with a handbag, but this was Prada, which happened to be Miu Miu's sister brand. Random fact you heard from Ning at one of your breakfasts.

Giselle was by far the most alternative of the four, she was wearing khaki pants with loose straps, a sheer black knit sweater, and a sleeveless shirt underneath her. She didn't have a handbag, she just had her phone and her airpods in her hand.

Minjeong, on the other hand, didn't even look like she was going to take a flight, she looked like she was ready to go out and pose at a fashion event. You knew she wanted to stand out from the others that day, and you had your suspicions as to why. She revealed every attractive piece of flesh she had: a black crop top with thin straps, which showed everything from her pretty neck, her collarbone, her chest and her shoulders; a short white skirt (which you recognized was from Gucci), which showed off her flat, appetizing midriff, as well as her pair of slim, long, pretty legs. As expected, her handbag was also Gucci, and a black wool jacket was hanging folded on her forearm. To you she radiated pure sex, but you quickly put the thought out of your head since it was too early to have a boner.

"Did you manage to rest a little more baby?" you asked Ning as she approached with her gaze on you.

"I did, thanks honey," she said with a little smile. When she passed behind you, you felt her make the move to lean over to kiss your cheek, but she stopped short when she remembered where you were. Finally she just sat next to you.

"Pretend a little, will you?" Noze warned, "you two are not alone," you two couldn't do anything but lower your gaze and hold back your laughter at the scolding.

For the next ten minutes Noze dedicated herself to explaining to the girls in detail their next activities and everything she had scheduled for them for the day.

"That's all?" Jimin asked, making a mental note as she looked at her.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Noze said as she took a sip of her watermelon juice, "mister fool will go with us in the van," everyone quickly looked up from their plates to see both you and Noze, with a shared reaction of surprise.

"Is he already out of the dog cage?" Giselle asked, "and that means me too?"

"Aha, control your horny ass next time," Noze warned without looking at her. At that moment you felt how Minjeong, sitting on your right, leaned closer to your ear.

"It's about time you got off house arrest," she whispered in your ear, "I was starting to consider fucking one of the security guys if she didn't let you stretch me out soon," you had to hide your reaction as you ate your omelet.

When you all finished your breakfast you stood up in the rush to make the last preparations before leaving for the airport. The staff members began to fill the lobby with boxes, luggage and other inventory of utmost importance for the tour. You offered to help upload some things, it wasn't your job anymore, but you had done it long enough to get used to it, and besides, the staff was too nice not to help them out from time to time.

Once everything was in order and prepared, you all began to get into the van. You took a seat next to the left window, Jimin sat diagonally to the right, Ning to your right at the other end, and Minjeong right in front of you. Giselle sat behind, focused on her phone. Noze on the other hand settled into the passenger seat while she took out her laptop from her bag.

"So," Jimin took off an airpod to look at Noze, "is he allowed to provide services again?" Noze continued to stare at the screen of her laptop.

"Everything is back to normal," Noze nodded, "but for the love of God, be careful, I won't allow another mistake like that."

As Noze spoke Minjeong made eye contact with you for a few seconds, then she pointed down, and when you looked down she spread her legs as wide as the seat would allow. She hadn't bothered to wear anything under her skirt, so you had a perfect view of her pretty, perfectly shaved pussy. You wanted to tell her something, but you didn't want anyone to hear it.

"I'm going to fucking destroy you," you said, just moving your lips as you looked into her eyes. She just smiled and looked out the window, crossing her legs again.

Upon arriving at the airport you quickly went through each checkpoint since the private jet that would take you to Dallas was already ready to take off. As you boarded and settled into the cabin you examined the interior, the jet was not as spectacular as the one that brought you to America, but it was already much better than an average plane, and it was quite nice. Light wood interiors and perfectly shiny champagne leather seats.

As soon as you entered, there were four seats forming a square, two on the left and two on the right. Then there were two double seats with a table in the middle, and to the left, a small table with a large drawer underneath. In the last area of the cabin, a large sofa, and a door that you assumed was the bathroom. Minjeong quickly took your hand and pulled you with her to the double seats so that you sat next to her, a move that worked perfectly because the four missing girls had taken the four missing seats behind you. Nobody was going to see anything.

Minjeong didn't waste a single second of time, as soon as you settled into the seats she grabbed your right forearm and brought your hand straight between her legs, your fingers now touching her pussy.

"Just use one finger..." she murmured in your ear, "I really need to feel myself stretching around that cock while we're at cruising altitude."

"That's kinda kinky, Minjeong-ah," you murmured back, rubbing your fingers up and down between her folds.

"Are you kidding? That sounds like an incredible idea to me..." she gasped as she looked at you, "you fucking me forty thousand feet up… just imagine that."

"So naughty, my god," you smiled, finally taking a finger inside her tight pussy as the plane raised its nose and rose into the air.

When your finger reached as deep as it could go inside her pussy you began to slowly move your wrist, causing Minjeong to let out an audible little moan that made you stop for a second because you were sure someone would have heard it.

"Everything okay back there?" you heard Noze ask.

"Everything's perfect, boss," Minjeong replied, biting her lower lip in the middle of a smirk. Out of curiosity, you looked over the side of your seat. Ning had already fallen asleep, Jimin was reading a book, and Noze was focused on her laptop. You couldn't fully see Giselle since she was behind you, but you noticed that she was playing Brawl Stars on her phone.

"Keep fucking quiet," you muttered as you turned back around and resumed pumping your wrist.

"Let go, idiot," she snapped with her mouth half open, bringing her hand to your cock over your sweatpants to massage it between gasps.

After a few seconds she took your cock out of your sweatpants and started rubbing it up and down, following the rhythm of your wrist while your finger went in and out of her. She had her lips pursed, stifling as many moans as she could just like you.

As soon as she noticed that the plane had gained enough altitude, she took off the belt that held her waist and stood up. You also took off your seat belt, and when she passed in front of you to get out of the seats, you stood up and followed her to the bathroom. It was more spacious than a normal plane, but your recent experiences let you know that it was nothing so impressive.

When you both entered you didn't even have time to lock the door behind you before she was already bent over the sink, her skirt wrapped around her waist and her pretty ass exposed for you.

"Not a coffee or anything?" you joked, standing behind her with a little smile.

"Shut up and fuck me raw asshole," she ordered, looking over her shoulder with a sensual look, "rip off those pants and put all that juicy cock inside me, I need to feel stretched and filled by you."

You knew that Minjeong was by far the horniest and most sex-crazed of all the girls, but she never ceased to amaze you how dirty she could talk sometimes. You didn't want to make her wait any longer, so you pulled down your sweatpants and boxers in a single pull towards your ankles to free your cock. One hand of yours went to her waist, and with the other you took your cock to rub it between her folds up and down, you let out a spit towards your cock and lubricated it well, and without any more time to waste you went all the way inside her, remembering how incredibly good her extremely tight and hot pussy felt.

"Oh my god..." you gasped, resting your pelvis against her buttocks as her pussy walls stretched around your shaft, "I missed this tight little pussy."

"Yeah? Because you're filling me up so fucking good," she moaned with her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at you, "do you like the way my pussy squeezes that cock daddy?" another of them who called you that way, two out of four.

"I fucking love it," you growled, giving both of her buttocks a hard squeeze and then spanking one of them. Minjeong squealed, and you started pumping your hips back and forth.

Minjeong's folds kept a firm grip around your cock, which was smothered from all directions by her warm, tight pussy walls. Your fingers held tightly to her small waist, feeling her soft flesh against your skin as your cock moved completely in and out of her fragile frame. In a few seconds she was already being hammered by your cock, and her moans began to echo off the bathroom walls.

You and her were locked in a bubble of pure lust and desire, which held strong for a few more thrusts until a series of frantic knocks on the door made you stop in your tracks.

"You better open that damn door immediately!" you heard Noze exclaim from the other side. Minjeong cleared her throat in annoyance, and with your balls deep inside her she left the sink to lean towards the door.

"What can I do for you?" Minjeong said with a false tone of friendliness after opening the door wide open. Noze did not look at all disturbed by the lewd scene before her eyes.

"Look, this tour is going to kill me with a migraine one of these days, so if you would be so kind, go fuck in the cabin so I can watch you and distract myself a little," she made eye contact with you as she spoke, and just God knows how intimidated yet surprised you felt. You didn't know what to say or do, you were on autopilot at that moment, and never better said.

"And what about the girls?" Minjeong asked.

"Do you care?" Noze returned.

"Not really, I love having an audience," saying that Minjeong straightened her body and made your cock come out of her pussy. Noze looked at it for a few seconds and then looked into your eyes, until she turned around and took the lead, Minjeong followed her, and you followed Minjeong.

"All the spotlight is on you, show off," Noze said as she returned to her seat. You had taken off your sweatpants and boxers along the way, and now you were completely naked from the waist down standing behind the seats where Ning and Giselle were. Minjeong unbuttoned her skirt and lowered it to her heels, where she also took off her heels before getting on her hands and knees with her ass raised facing you.

“Come and fuck me daddy, it's show time,” Minjeong said, looking back over her shoulder at you.

"Jesus Christ, are you really going to do this here right now?" Giselle said with a giggle to your left as you knelt behind Minjeong.

"Orders from above, nothing to do about it," you replied to Giselle in English, before spitting again on your cock and plunging back into Minjeong's tight pussy. Her ass rested against your pelvis, and with a spank to her milky buttock you began to fuck her again, this time with Noze's gaze on you.

"Do you like what you see, boss?" Minjeong asked Noze between squeals of pleasure, as you slapped her ass with each thrust, "He's stretching my pussy so fucking good, mhmmm!"

"What a slut..." Giselle mentioned next to you, watching you out of the corner of her eye while she played on her phone. Ning on the other hand was still fast asleep, and Jimin wasn't even bothering to pay attention to you.

"I bet you're pretty fucking horny right now huh?" Minjeong teased Noze, who had already unbuttoned her pants to put a hand inside them, "Fuck yeah, you love what you see, who knew," you gave her another hard spank so she screamed in pleasure, your cock frantically hammering her pussy.

"Shut your damn mouth Minjeong," Noze moaned as she bit her lip, "and you," she looked into your eyes, "lie on your back, I want to see how she rides you," you did so, pulling out of Minjeong to lie on the floor, she straddled you to impale herself on your cock again, but Noze intervened, "not like that, turn around," Minjeong raised an eyebrow and turned around, to ride you in a reverse cowgirl position.

"So you want to look me in the eye while I jump on this cock, huh?" Minjeong said with a mischievous giggle as she took you inside her again, beginning to sensually move her hips back and forth. You had perfect views, Minjeong's ass moving on your cock and meters ahead, Noze fingering herself between discrete moans.

"Oh my god... look at that bulge on your abdomen," Noze moaned, and she proceeded to remove both her pants and her panties. She spread her legs wide, and that was your first view of her pussy. Your mouth watered, “Jimin-ssi…” she motioned for Jimin to listen to her, Jimin took off one of the headphones and turned to look at her, “would you mind coming over here and putting that tongue to work?”

"Fuck, Adolin is about to have his duel against Relis and Jamakav," Jimin complained, closing 'The Way of Kings' and removing her headphones, "you owe me a favor."

Jimin knelt in front of Noze's seat, and without thinking twice she plunged her face right into her crotch. Noze moaned louder as she held Jimin by her hair, being eaten in the best possible way by a tongue that you knew was not inexperienced with.

"I can't believe you agreed that easily..." Minjeong moaned, teasing Jimin, who gave her the middle finger while she ate Noze's pussy. Minjeong planted her feet on the floor on either side of your hips, leaned back to rest her hands on your arms, and began jumping up and down quickly, making the bulge on her stomach even more visible for Noze. You groaned in pleasure, feeling Minjeong's pussy tighten around your shaft, and enjoying everything that was happening in front of your eyes.

"I'm so close, fuck!" you said with a moan, already feeling at the point of no return thanks to Minjeong's jumps on your cock and the image of Noze being devoured by Jimin, who seemed to be putting her soul and sweat into her work, since boss’s face was pure pleasure.

"Creampie her!!" Noze squeaked to your surprise, tangling her fingers in strands of Jimin's hair.

"You heard her daddy… drain those balls into my tight little pussy," Minjeong moaned, looking down at you over her shoulder. She started jumping faster and harder, you groaned in pleasure, and brought your hands to her waist to help her go all the way up and down your throbbing cock.

After a few seconds in which Minjeong didn't stop jumping on your cock for a single second, you exploded. You growled deep in your throat, feeling yourself shoot your load into her warm pussy. Feeling the thick, hot liquid inside her, Minjeong gave one last hard push down and brought her orgasm. Her moans filled the entire cabin, and in search of increasing her pleasure she began to grind her hips back and forth with your cock deep inside her pussy, still shooting cum.

For Noze, the climax was also a matter of seconds, she just had to watch how Minjeong very slowly took your cock out of her pussy, and how the cum spilled out of it, to press Jimin's face towards her pussy while her orgasm made her scream. You also heard a moan from Jimin as she ate out Noze while she came.

"Fuck, you made her completely full," Noze moaned, "do you feel full and stretched already, Minjeong-ah?" she asked looking into her eyes.

"Very, very full and stretched by this juicy, delicious, magnificent cock," Minjeong agreed, getting off of you to kneel on your side, lean towards your crotch and start cleaning your cock, lower abdomen and balls between licks and sucks. She didn't stop until your cock was completely clean and she had swallowed all your cum.

"Like I was telling you..." Jimin pulled away from Noze's pussy as she wiped her chin, "you owe me a favor," she remarked before returning to her seat, putting on her headphones, and returning to the book.

"Ah... yeah, sure," Noze nodded, still spread-legged, realizing everything that had happened, she made eye contact with you, and then with Minjeong, "Uhm... get dressed and get comfortable, there's still a couple of hours left to land," she said with slightly blushing cheeks.

"Nice wet pussy, boss," Minjeong teased with a giggle, "but next time let me eat it myself… it looks so yummy."

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Upon landing in Dallas, none of you had time or mind to talk about what happened while you were more than ten thousand meters high, everything was a slight chaos and rush as soon as you set foot in the airport, and within an hour you were already at the hotel where you were going to stay. Everyone, both members and staff members, you and Noze, went to your respective rooms to rest as soon as everything was in order.

You didn't have any plans for that afternoon, so you invited Ning (as always, going through Noze's approval first) to your room to watch a movie before bedtime. You and her had a nice little time watching The Batman, cuddling on your bed and sharing a few little kisses until the movie ended, and then spending 15 minutes discussing the movie until she had to left.

When you were left alone in your room, the first thing you did was go take a long, relaxing bath that helped you get rid of all the tiredness and physical exhaustion that you had accumulated throughout the day. You left the bathroom, got dressed, and lay down on your bed to take out your phone and let the ITZY girls know that you were already in the next city safe and sound. The next day's activities forced you to go to sleep early that night, so as soon as you read the girls' answers and said goodbye to them, you turned off all the lights in your room and fell asleep.

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The next morning you tried to talk to Noze about what had happened to no avail, since as soon as you all finished breakfast she started giving orders left and right. She had ordered you in particular to go to the venue and prepare everything in the dressing room with the stylists team and makeup artists. Everything took longer than you had estimated and you no longer had any time to go to the hotel and then come back, so you just told Noze that you were going to wait for them there.

The girls arrived at the venue after about fifteen minutes, but you didn't have time to talk or even interact with any of them since they had to rush through sound tests, wardrobe tests, and then put on makeup. Hours passed, and you noticed how the crowd of people began to fill the place. When you least expected it, it was time for them to go on stage, and you stayed with Noze on the side stage while you watched the concert.

"Are we going to talk about that little scene on the plane or...?" You brought the topic up from under the table, Noze took a deep breath, tilted her head and crossed her arms with her eyes on the stage. The girls were performing Savage at the time.

"Look, I promise we'll talk about it at some point, but for now don't pressure me, okay?" She turned to see you, you were both shoulder to shoulder, so when you turned your head too, your faces were not very far from each other.

"It's okay, I'm sorry," you said, looking into her eyes, "I didn't mean to, I just didn't expect that."

"I understand, but we'll talk about it," she assured, also looking at you, "now shut up and watch the concert."

"I've already seen it 3 times," you both turned again to look at the stage.

"You have the chance to see those four goddesses performing from here, take it."

"Well, you have a point."

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When the concert ended you helped the staff store all the things and load them into the vans, after that, you got into the van with the girls and Noze and returned to the hotel. Everyone went to their respective rooms to take baths before going down to dinner or to sleep, but your plans were to order some food that night and lock yourself up until one of the girls required your attention. The message didn't take long to arrive, and you didn't even have time to order your food.

As soon as you answered Minjeong you stood up and opened your suitcase to change into something more comfortable. Your choice was a pair of navy blue sports shorts, an oversized black Nike hoodie, and your granite Yeezy Sliders. You didn't care too much about arranging your hair so well, or putting on perfume or anything like that, you only had your phone and barely a half-finished pack of Mentos in your pockets. The only thing you made sure you had covered was to tell the boss.

You waited for a few minutes for Noze to respond, but the messages never arrived, which you found very strange indeed. She always responded the minute you said something, and you could only think of two things, either she was taking a shower, or she had already fallen asleep. You doubted both, but you left your room anyway and headed to Minjeong's.

When you got to Minjeong's room you didn't even bother to knock on the door or call her, you just opened it wide as if it were your room. What happened on the plane was insignificant compared to what you saw now in front of your eyes, and now you knew why Noze wasn't answering your messages. Minjeong was tied by the ankles and wrists behind her back with thick visibly tight red ropes, next to her, Noze completely naked as she inserted a not at all small dildo into Minjeong's pussy.

"Wow," you hurried inside and locked the door behind you, Minjeong and Noze turned to look at you, "What's going on, what the fuck."

"Well, it looks like we don't need fake cocks anymore," Noze said, looking at you, and then took the dildo out of Minjeong's pussy, who let out a moan. She had her legs up with her thighs pressed against her abdomen, so you had a perfect view of her pussy and her butthole soaked in what looked like Noze's saliva.

"This is certainly not how I imagined I would see you naked for the first time," you told Noze, scrutinizing her small, tight, toned body. She didn't have the biggest ass or tits, but she was sexy on a level that you didn't even know how to explain.

"Bold of you to think you were going to see me naked before all this," she said, putting the dildo aside to stand up and go sit on the single couch on the right side of the room, in front of the window covered by the curtains.

"Was I wrong?" you teased.

"It doesn't matter, because you're seeing me naked right now," she spread her legs and grabbed one of those microphone-shaped vibrators, "pretend I'm not here and get to work."

"It's hard when your pussy is looking me right in the eye," you said, placing your phone on a small bench at the foot of the bed. You took the packet of fruit mentos out of your pocket and popped one into your mouth.

"You're gonna keep talking to her or are you gonna come here and fuck my brains out?" Minjeong teased from the bed, she had managed to lie on her side.

"We already played your little game on the plane, Minjeongie," you climbed onto the bed with her and got on your knees as you took off your hoodie, "but now it's my turn, and I'll do whatever I want with you."

"Then go ahead and use me as a puny sex toy daddy," she told you, biting her lip.

"Finger her and make her cum," Noze ordered to your right. You heard the vibrator turn on.

"You're lucky we think the same," you replied to Noze, "let's keep it up and I think our Minjeongie will end the night completely destroyed."

You took off your sliders and sat on the bed, pulling your shorts and boxers down to your ankles and off your legs with a single tug. Now the three of you were completely naked. The first thing you did was kneel in front of Minjeong's ass to lean forward and start filling the side of her face with kisses. Your mouth moved from her jaw to her chin, from where you moved down to her neck to fill it with hickeys and wet kisses. Minjeong shifted between gasps beneath you. Her ass rubbed against your balls, and when she noticed it she continued moving her hips to try her luck and thus press herself against your hard cock. Not wanting her to get what she wanted, you placed her body on her back and now took her perky little tits to your mouth.

Minjeong let out small moans as your tongue met her soft nipples and stimulated them between licks, kisses and sucks. Your hands roamed all over her slender body, using your massage skills to hit the right parts and make her melt beneath you. The notable parts that you identified as weak points for her were her lower abdomen, her lower back, and her inner thighs. You would remember that later.

While you continued devouring her tits you placed one hand between her thighs and ran your two fingers up and down between her slit, her folds already soaked and slimy. Maybe Noze had already made her cum before? It was most likely, but tonight you wanted to see Minjeong completely ruined and at your mercy. You took two fingers inside her, both sliding in easily, eliciting a louder squeal.

"Slap and degrade that whore if she dares to speak, she is not allowed," ordered Noze, who saw out of the corner of your eye how she already had the vibrator pressed to her clit, "she is just our sex slave right now."

"Did you hear that, baby?" You asked Minjeong as you continued sucking on her tits and began to move your wrist at a moderate speed, fingers in and out of her pussy, "you better stay silent."

"It's not like I dislike that punishment," she teased with an evil smile, and since you had your good hand busy, you spit on her cheekbone, "oh fuck yes, spit on me daddy..." she moaned, and you pulled out your fingers from her pussy just to have your hand available to slap her hard, make her gape her mouth and spit into it.

"Shut the fuck up, I'm not going to repeat it," with that said you proceeded to move your wrist as hard as you could, filling the hotel room with the sounds of your palm slapping against her buttocks, the wet sounds and Minjeong's moans. Noze still didn't dare to raise her voice too much, but with every second that passed you heard her moan louder.

You dove back into Minjeong's tits, sucking on both nipples as your fingers stretched her tight pussy non-stop. Your wrist was a machine at its maximum power, made to make the tied girl's body a tangle of tremors and small spasms of pleasure perfectly hitting her sensitive spot. While your tongue and fingers drove Minjeong crazy you turned your head slightly to make eye contact with Noze, who was still with the vibrator still firmly pressed against her pussy. Her face distorted with pleasure was a poem to you, as was watching her squirm.

"S-Stop looking at me..." Noze said, looking away, now to see Minjeong, "cum, you fucking whore."

You stopped watching her not because you wanted to, but because Minjeong started screaming the way she did when she was close to cumming. She opened her mouth to say something, but her position made her remember that it was not her role to do so, so she just bit the pillow that was next to her and in a matter of seconds she exploded around your fingers, which were soaked with her warm fluids and dripped part of their thighs.

"Mmm, you cummed a lot honey," you smiled, moving up to give her more kisses on her neck. Then you grabbed her chin and forced her to look at you with slightly glassy eyes, "now it's your turn to satisfy daddy, would you like that?" She just nodded, "Good girl."

"But I wanted you to eat her pussy!" Noze protested.

"Come and do it yourself then, cutie," you said looking at her, she seemed a little surprised at your boldness, but she didn't refuse either. She stood up while you knelt on the side of Minjeong's face, climbed onto the bed and went to work on the knot in Minjeong's heels.

"I have a better idea," once she untied the knot holding Minjeong's legs, she spread them wide and settled into a scissors position with her, "mmm, so wet and hot," Noze moaned, as she pressed their pussies together, then she looked at you, "what are you waiting for? fuck that pretty face."

"As ordered boss," you nodded, taking your cock in one hand and looking down at Minjeong, who was already beginning to move her hips to rub her pussy against Noze's while she looked at your flesh with eyes of pure desire, "You're craving it huh?" you teased, slamming your cock against her lips. She stuck her tongue out immediately to make your tip smack against it.

"Mmmhm, of course she does," Noze moaned, holding on to one of Minjeong's legs as she ground her hips, "she's a slut who enjoys being used."

You brought your left hand behind Minjeong's neck, holding her head to raise it and bring your cock directly to her mouth. Her lips closed around your cock and put pressure on it, you let her move her head on her own for a few seconds in which she could only suck half of your shaft and leave it shiny with her saliva, but her moment of freedom was over when you brought both hands to her head and started pumping your hips back and forth.

As your cock made its way through her warm mouth you noticed her throat showing some resistance past the middle of your shaft, but you weren't there to be merciful or patient, so you didn't give a shit if she choked or not, you just pushed forward. Minjeong coughed and gagged and squirmed for air, but you didn't stop until your cock was buried deep in her throat in a thick pool of saliva, spilling out the sides of her mouth and dripping down to the sheets.

Noze meanwhile was clinging to Minjeong's thigh between no longer timid moans, you turned to look at her as she bit her lip and rubbed against Minjeong's pussy as if her life depended on it. You, on the other hand, began to pump your hips back and forth, with Minjeong's cute little teary eyes looking at you and her mouth moaning around your cock since it wasn't just Noze who was receiving pleasure from what she was doing.

A growl left your throat as you felt Minjeong's throat get used to your length, now allowing you to move harder without fear of hurting her in any way. You grabbed a fistful of her hair and held onto it to move her head towards your cock with each thrust, you wanted to reach out and touch her clit too, but that meant risking touching Noze, and since you didn't know if she was okay with you touching her, you just didn't do it.

Noze was immersed in her own world at that point, just listening to the sound of your cock hitting Minjeong's throat with each thrust and grinding her hips desperately in search of an orgasm that was not long in coming. You had already seen her cum just hours ago, but she impressed you again with how incredibly hot and sexy her face looked while her body writhed in pleasure. She rubbed her own clitoris and also Minjeong's, squeezing out every last drop of ecstasy. Her moans filled the room and echoed in your ears, you could tell she barely had time to please herself by how liberated she sounded.

Minjeong, who not only enjoyed how Noze touched her but also how you fucked her throat as if she were just an object, moaned from the depths of her being and let out a few tears that ran down her cheeks and mixed with the saliva that spilled from her mouth. You pulled her hair hard and carelessly, pumping your cock completely in and out of her mouth. Since you had one hand free and you already considered that her tits had had enough attention, you had no choice but to bring it to her neck, where you pressed your fingers firmly and felt how your cock bulged every time you reached the her throat. That drove you completely crazy and fueled your flame, you felt closer and closer to cumming.

"Where do you want me to cum, boss?" you asked Noze without looking at her, just looking at Minjeong's weak, blushing, pleasure-drunk face while you ruined her angelic face with your cock.

"Fill her throat with cum, don't let her waste a damn drop," Noze growled, biting her lower lip, she had stopped rubbing her clit to now focus on Minjeong's, "I'll make that whore squirt."

You removed your right hand from Minjeong's neck to now bring it to her head next to the other, now with both grips on her hair you became a complete animal and began to hit her throat without any mercy, as hard and fast as you could. Minjeong, recognizing what you liked most, stuck out her tongue and pressed it against the back of your cock, which now rubbed against it with each pump and ended up putting the icing on the cake.

As you reached your orgasm you buried Minjeong's head towards you and started shooting your entire load down her throat, just in time for Minjeong to reach her second (maybe third) orgasm of the night, this time more wild and with an extra prize. A stream of squirt shot out of Minjeong's pussy as she twisted her hips between spasms, which soaked Noze's entire chest and also the sheets.

You couldn't help but grunt in pleasure as Minjeong squealed around your cock and you shot thick streams of cum straight down her throat, her moans mixed with strong gag reflexes, but she was able to get through it without much trouble as she swallowed every drop she received. When you emptied your load you came out of her mouth, and she could finally breathe properly.

"You sure did a good fucking job huh?" you said looking at Minjeong, with her mouth, her chin and almost every part of her upper body stained with saliva in some way. Her hair had also become very disheveled and some of her makeup had smudged.

"Don't you even dare give her a break," Noze said, climbing on top of Minjeong's body to kiss her in a torrid and passionate way, you had to lean back so as not to touch Noze, although in the same way, she was practically tasting both your cock and your cum in that kiss. You didn't comment on anything.

"Well I need to handle her as I please, so could you get off of her," you said sitting on your calves as the two of them continued kissing.

"I want her to eat me, so find the position that seems best to you," Noze asked, looking at you out of the corner of her eye to get off of Minjeong.

"I already fucked her from behind earlier, so a missionary will be perfect," with that said you waited for Noze to completely pull away before going and kneeling between Minjeong's trembling legs. You looked at her, her face said she was exhausted, but her eyes screamed at you to fuck her with the strength of a bull.

"I'm sorry for having to cover her pretty face," Noze said, straddling Minjeong's face and surprisingly facing you, "I know you want to see her cry and spit on her like the slut she is, but I need to cum one more time, sweetness," She said all this while looking you straight in the eyes, and again you felt somewhat intimidated.

"Use her as much as you want, I know you need it," you nodded, not bothering to hide how you looked at her pretty little tits and her flat, toned stomach.

"You're going to ogle me," she said as you grabbed Minjeong's legs and spread them wide, hands on her trembling thighs, "at least hide it."

"Nah, you're beautiful and your body makes my mouth water, why hide it," Noze raised an eyebrow at your compliment and while maintaining eye contact with you, she lowered her hips to sit on Minjeong's face, who started to eat and caused her to let out a long, sensual moan inches from you.

"Improve those hook up lines, you're not telling me anything I don't already know," she said arrogantly, and in response you played the same game, maintaining eye contact with her as you took your cock inside Minjeong's pussy. She moaned against Noze's pussy, and she gasped as a result.

From that moment on, you and Noze locked yourself in a common bubble in which Minjeong gave you incredible satisfaction and pleasure, her with her skillful tongue and you with her tight pussy, which suffocated your cock even after you had stretched it with your fingers a few minutes ago. Noze played with Minjeong's tits, pinching her nipples with her fingers and also using her mounds as support to grind her hips into her face.

You kept a firm grip on Minjeong's thighs, pressing them back and consequently raising her pelvis slightly. You couldn't lean forward to fuck her into her mattress since Noze was in the way, so you just worked from that same position. You didn't need to be patient, just a few seconds with your cock deep in her pussy were enough for her to get used to it and give you the green light to fuck her.

Noze grinded her hips faster and harder against Minjeong's face, in a way that made you confirm her past as a dancer, almost hypnotic and sensual like few things you had seen in your life. Not being able to do anything but move your hips, you stared at her, and for a few seconds you imagined that you were not fucking Minjeong, but her. That made you moan, and strangely you felt a small boost of arousal in you.

She was looking at you too, she licked both of her fingers and you naively thought they were for you, but she reached for Minjeong's pussy and started rubbing her clit again. Now her hand was dangerously close to your cock as it went in and out, but to your disappointment, you knew she wouldn't touch it.

Seeing her hand so close to your cock was somewhat tortuous for you, so in order not to see it you put Minjeong's legs together, with her two feet in the air and her heels held together, that way her thighs covered what was happening behind. Still, you prevented Minjeong's feet from blocking your vision, so you continued watching Noze grinding against Minjeong's mouth between loud moans.

With your hands pressing her thighs back, your cock slamming against her pussy as fast as your hips would go, and Noze's fingers stimulating her clit, Minjeong's body became a trembling mess that Noze benefited from, her thighs pressed on either side of Minjeong's head. She stopped looking at you to close her eyes and purse her lips to drown out her screams of pleasure. You noticed that she was close, but what gave Noze the finishing touch was Minjeong's orgasm, who screamed and shook under her.

"OH FUUUUUUUUUCK!!!" Noze screeched.

With both girls cumming in front of you, you couldn't do anything but pump your hips slower and wait patiently for both petite bodies to stop squirming and shaking. Noze wanted to collapse forward, but when she saw that you were there she did so but in the opposite direction, resting her hands on her mattress and falling off of Minjeong's face, who seemed anything but energetic.

"Don't… don't stop using me daddy," Minjeong said in a low voice, still breathing very heavily, "you haven't put another load inside me yet," rules were rules, so you slapped her hard.

"You still have energy left to take daddy's load huh?" you teased, leaving her pussy to grab her by the waist and lay her face down. For the first time in a while you saw her red hands tied behind her back.

“I could do this all night…” Minjeong replied, looking at you from the corner of her eye. Two strong and spicy spanks on each buttocks, both of them left red.

"I don't doubt it, you are a dirty high caliber sex toy..." you got on top of Minjeong's body, took your cock in your hand to take it between her buttocks and dive deep into her pussy again, to fuck her in prone bone.

Minjeong let out a breathless grunt of pleasure as she felt you inside again. You left your hands resting on the mattress on either side of her body, beginning to pump quickly up and down and pinning her against the mattress with all the weight of your body. With each thrust she let out small moans without energy, not because she was not enjoying it, but because her body was almost in vegetable mode at that moment, product of many intense orgasms in a row and without rest, not to mention that she was deprived of comfortable breathing twice.

You growled like a primal beast, bringing one of your hands to her hair to forcefully pull it back and the other to her lower back, under her tied wrists, you pressed there, and Minjeong began to pant and grunt more.

"Mmmmmghhh, just like that, yes yes yes," she grunted, then letting out little whimpers as you hammered her pussy up and down, already feeling close to your ecstasy, "don't you fucking stop daddy, oh my god!"

Your hand moved from her hair to her neck, pressing it down to crush the side of her face against the pillow. A drop of sweat fell from your forehead to her pretty back, and with a few more hard thrusts you started another load inside her pussy. This was the trigger for Minjeong's last orgasm of the night, the one that was going to leave her completely ruined.

"Oh my god Minjeong!" You groaned in pleasure, feeling her pussy walls tighten almost painfully around your cock as you shot your last drops of cum into her, moving your hips slowly up and down. She didn't make any sound as she came, you could only see her lost eyes and her mouth half open as her body spasmed in every corner.

"I... need to go to the bathroom," said Noze, who had watched everything in complete silence, "i-it won't be long," you turned to look at her as you pulled out of Minjeong's filled pussy. She didn't seem happy at all, in fact, you could see her eyes filling with tears as she got off the bed.

"Uhm… are you o…kay?" you asked unsuccessfully as Noze went into the bathroom. You heard how she locked it.

You were left alone there with Minjeong, who was nothing more than a lifeless rag doll at that moment. Her pussy dripping with cum and her body still not getting over the slight spasms. There was nothing to clean since Noze had locked herself in the bathroom, so you had to make do with a random piece of clothing you found on the floor to clean yourself and Minjeong. Then you just laid down next to her and rested.

After about 15 minutes Noze finally came out of the bathroom, you noticed her eyes were somewhat red. She had definitely been crying, but you didn't want to push her.

"Aight, I'm fine, stop looking at me with those worried puppy eyes," she insisted, reaching for her clothes, "I just had a... mental breakdown."

“You sure?" you asked, sitting on the bed, watching her as she put on her panties and bra.

"Yeah, dork, now get dressed so we can get out of here, she needs to sleep peacefully," she pointed with her chin at Minjeong, who was still in the exact same position you had left her in, "she'll manage in the morning. "

"Fair enough," you sighed, stood up and dressed as quickly as you could with Noze. None of you made eye contact with each other, you just turned off the lights, turned on Minjeong's air conditioning and walked outside, separating paths towards your respective rooms.

—---------------------------------

Spren Notes: P.S.T is back :0

#winter smut #aespa smut #kpop smut #smut fanfic #x male reader smut #noze smut #wayb noze smut #x male smut #x male reader #male reader smut

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tojirights · 6 months ago

Text

maki zenin x fem!reader x yuta okkotsu

tags: 1.6k words, 18+ SMUT MDNI, ffm threesome, established relationship(s), fem!receiving oral, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, light bondage and blindfolding, praise

a/n: this is the first time I've wrote smut for either of these characters so don't hate me for my botched characterization 😭 also my first time writing an ffm threesome plz be nice 🩷

maki blindfolding you while her and yuta take turns eating you out, your mind completely consumed with the pleasure being given to you. she's got your hands tied loosly above your head. you don't know who is who, who has their fingers in your cunt and who has the mouth on your clit and you can't seem to care until it all stops.

you start to whine, hips bucking in annoyance but you're stopped quickly when a hand closes around your throat and you feel lips at your ear. "y'wanna play a game, princess?" maki whispers, her lips brushing you skin and she snirks when it earns an embarrassing whimper from you. "what kinda game?" you ask tentatively, your heart thrumming in your ears. yuta's just languidly fingering your pussy as maki sets the rules for the game, which is making it increasingly hard to concentrate.

"i wanna see just how well you know us, baby." maki hums, running a finger from your chin down to your nipple before gently rubbing the bud. you mouth opens to ask more questions but all you muster is a pathetic whine as maki toys with your tits, yuta pumping two slim fingers in your leaky cunt. "one of us is going to keep eating your pretty little pussy...." she starts, and you feel both of them shifting on the bed. "but you can only cum if you can guess who it is."

you gasp at the sudden lack of contact as yuta pulls away. "now i know thats not fair, baby." he coos, voice soft and understanding. he reaches forward and releases your bindings, kissing each wrist even though it was just a ribbon tying you and your skin is completely fine. "so, we'll let you use your hands. take your time deciding, love. you know maki isn't as forgiving as me." you hear a soft laugh next to you, which sends a shiver up your spine. "no punishments today. well, i guess not getting to cum would count... but you got this baby." maki huffs, watching your lip pout at the idea of being denied.

"are you ready darling?" yuta places a kiss to your clit before moving from you entirely. you take slow, deep breaths to settle your mind, letting both yuta and maki decide what they want to do to you. you start to really think about how differently the two give you pleasure, and you know your lovers definitely have different approaches but you're sure this won't be easy. your body shakes with anticipation as you feel the slow, easy push of a finger inside of you. your first instinct is yuta, based on the gentle nature of the penetration, but you also know maki is incredibly smart and would know not to go hard on you immediately.

instead of working your mind into a frenzy, you take another breath before settling into the pleasure. you finally feel something warm and wet on your clit as someone's mouth envelopes your sensitive bud. your now free hands dive straight into the hair of whoever happens to be going down on you. your guess now is pretty confidently maki, running your fingers through the thick strands you tend to hold onto for dear life when she eats your pussy. "o-oh ma-" you find yourself about to moan out for her, to make your decision so that you can cum, but the hand that comes around to cup your cheek slides their fingers in your mouth before you can finish.

and now you're turned on and confused, because as you run your tongue along the digits in your mouth, you are positive that those are maki's trimmed fingernails. which means that the delicate tongue and two fingers pumping out of your cunt has to be yuta. you groan as a pair of lips attach themselves to your nipple, tentatively licking and sucking the oversensitive bud.

your hips buck when those fingers curl at just the right angle, causing stars to form even behind closed eyes. your orgasm starts to quickly approach, heat surging all the way down to your toes. you gasp, mouth opening just enough to spit out the intrusion and save yourself the embarrassment of cumming all over yuta's face and actually getting a punishment. "y-yuta stop-" you cry out, cementing your decision in who's mouth is where.

there's a brief pause that hangs in the air as yuta pulls his mouth and fingers from your puffy cunt, and you swear you hear him whine when he sees your pussy clench around nothing. maki slowly kisses from your chest to your jaw, up until her lips find yours. you moan into the kiss, your body still pulsing after being so on the edge. you can feel maki smile against your lips, like she knows something...

and you finally figure it out when you feel the head of yuta's cock prodding your wet hole. you feel maki move, surely stepping off the bed to undress herself, and your thoughts are confirmed when she returns and straddles your chest. your hands fly around her ass, you can feel the heat from her pussy against your bare chest and you can't help yourself but to slide a finger down her slit. maki shudders, letting you toy with her pussy all while yuta's pushing his cock slowly between your walls.

"good girl, you did so good." maki coos, leaning her chest against yours as she goes to capture your lips. "even though you did almost get it wrong." yuta grunts as his hips slam into you, a bit more venom in his tone than usual. your brain is already starting to shut down, every thrust of yuta's thick cock making you spiral into pleasure as maki's lips work on your neck.

as soon as maki's teeth make contact with the sensitive skin of your throat, your whole body clenches as sparks of pain mix deliciously with pleasure. your moans are almost pathetic at this point, and as you're panting and shaking, all you can think of is the sweet taste of maki's cunt on your tongue.

"m-maki please." you mewl, barely even able to squeak out the simple beg. but maki knows you well, and even though she laughs at your feeble request, you feel her moving off your chest. you can all but taste her on your tongue but she stays and hovers instead. "should i really let you, baby girl? i had to interrupt you before you made the wrong choice earlier."

you whine, the feeling of tears forming in your eyes as desperation really sets in. "i-i need your pussy maki, pleaasee let me lick your pussy. i'll cum so hard on yuta's cock." you hear yuta curse under his breath, his thrusts stuttering as he tries not to empty his balls on your words alone. "maki." yuta moans, his breath shaky as he thrusts shallowly into your pussy.

"sit."

you're so taken aback by the authority in his voice that you almost cum, clenching impossibly tight around his length. yuta groans deep in his throat, consumed not only by how wet and tight you are around his cock, but now by the sight of maki slowly lowering herself onto your awaiting tongue. he never hides how much he enjoys watching the two of you, and fuck, he knows it'll make him cum that much harder.

your core burns as you slide your tongue down maki's cunt, lapping at her juices like it's your last meal. she sighs above you, wiggling her hips as she gets comfortable. you whimper into her pussy, your hands grasping desperately at the fat of her ass. "shit..." you hear yuta panting out, bucking into you with a new fervor.

maki runs her fingers through your hair before tugging the strands, using your hair as an anchor to grind on your tongue. it's too much, the brutal pace of yuta fucking you open while maki uses your tongue like she would a cock has your orgasm slamming into you. waves of pleasure surge your whole body and all you can think to do is work your tongue into maki's dripping cunt at an even more frenzied manner.

yuta and maki both groan in unison, causing aftershocks to soar through you. maki's thighs are shaking, her breath hitches when your mouth latches onto her clit and you can tell by the way she's unable to stop those pretty moans from escaping that she's right on the edge as well. "god- fuck you're doing so good baby." maki whines, swiveling her hips in an attempt to feel more friction.

yuta reaches forward, his fingers tangling in maki's hair before he pulls her back and meets her eyes. she gasps, back arching to accomidate the way her head is pulled back. "cum, maki please." he pants, gritting his teeth to try and keep his orgasm at bay. you both shudder, knowing it'll be any second before yuta's covering your insides with his seed. "fuck, y-yuta." maki groans, his spasming as she cums on your tongue, tugging even harder on your hair and earning a sad and muffled whimper.

and you can't even be mad at the fact that maki moaned for yuta as she came because the way she's riding your tongue as her orgasm settles makes you want to cream all over yuta's cock again. "aahh that's too good." yuta's voice hitches, and he releases his grip on maki in favor of grabbing your hips and fucking you into the mattress. as maki removes herself from your face, your moans suddenly echo through the room. your body jolts when maki's finger toys with your puffy clit, slow agonizing circles that have electricity surging through you.

"m-ma-maki i'm gonna-" you cry out, tears flowing from behind the blindfold and making it stick to your skin. it would normally feel pretty uncomfortable, but you can't seem to care much as your second orgasm of the night causes your brain to short-circuit. yuta is right behind you, cursing maki for toying you into cumming again. his hips pause, burying his cock so deep as he shoots thick ropes of cum into your abused cunt.

your body pulses for what feel like, well, forever, as you come down from your high once more. yuta slowly pulls his softening cock out, a quiet whimper following. maki is quick to swipe a finger down your slit, admiring the way your juices mix with yuta's. she reaches up for your blindfold before licking her finger clean, moaning as the taste of both of you melts on her tongue. your head is so thoroughly fucked, all you can do is sigh out a moan as you watch her. yuta places a kiss to your inner thigh before he reaches for a rag to clean you.

"shower now baby?" he asks, watching your eyes flutter close. maki chuckles, brushing the hair from your forehead. "mmh, let her rest yu." she coos, grabbing you a blanket. "i'll come wake you soon, m'kay?" maki watches as your eyes fly open and your head shakes quickly. "nnooo. need you both." your lip quivers as emotions flood you. yuta sighs, crawling back onto the bed with both you and maki.

"of course princess."

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iiseult · 7 months ago

Note

Oooh open requests! May I have King Baldwin with a wife reader who sweetly helps him treat his wounds regardless of how he tells her not to come into direct contact with his skin? Please, do it nice and fluffy, if it's not too much trouble! Thank you!

Wedding Night: Baldwin IV x reader

CWs → fluff, probable historical inaccuracies, she/her pronouns, leprosy, christianity and mentions of god, reader and baldwin just got married!

Note: This is the first request I've ever responded to! Thank you so much for sending it in, I really hope you enjoy! <3 Also this was supposed to be a drabble but I got carried away

Wordcount: 2k

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Baldwin was laying on his stomach with his bandaged arms and legs stretched out across the large mattress, and his face nuzzled into a plush pillow. The day had been strenuous for him, requiring much more standing than he was accustomed to, and his body ached terribly. Though originally just on his hands and face, the disease had recently spread up past his wrist and onto a small patch of his back, causing an uncomfortable burning sensation every time his clothing brushed against it. He was waiting for his physician to arrive and apply his nightly soothing salve, which usually helped to relieve some of the discomfort that resulted from the intense dryness of his skin. But when the door opened, instead of his physician, it was you.

Hastily, he sat up, looking around to find something to cover himself with. Besides the bandages wrapped around his ribcage, arms, and the middle of his face, the only thing he had on was a pair of white linen shorts. You covered your mouth and giggled as he scrambled to grab his robe from the nearby chair it was draped over.

“My lord, that really won’t be necessary. I’m only going to take it right back off once you put it on,” you said playfully, closing the door behind you and sauntering towards him. You were carrying a small basket in your left hand. He furrowed his brow and instinctually clutched the fabric to his chest, hoping it covered most of his exposed skin. A wave of heat rushed to his head, and he suddenly felt a bit dizzy.

“Lady Y/N– I mean, Your Highness, what are you doing here?” he asked, his voice betraying his mild panic as his eyes followed you across the bedroom. You had changed out of your wedding gown in favor of a tightly fitting dress of a deep emerald green and a low neckline– typical attire for a bride on her wedding night. Heat rose to his cheeks as he admired his new queen’s attractive figure, on display just for him. He really hadn’t been expecting this. You had to know that, given his condition, consummating the marriage would be more trouble than it was worth, and attempting to sire an heir with him would be a completely fruitless endeavor. Why, then, were you standing before him, looking like the very picture of grace and beauty? You smiled gently at him, setting down the basket and taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Let me help you. Please, lie back down so I can take those bandages off,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice as even as possible. You waited a moment, but he only gawked, eyes still shamelessly concentrating on your choice of wardrobe. You sighed and placed a hand over his bandaged one, looking deeply into his eyes.

“I promise I’ll be gentle.”

He hummed sadly, shaking his head no, knowing he could not give you what you wanted.

“I believe that you would, but I cannot allow it. If you were to come into contact with my bare skin…” he trailed off. You bit your lip. You knew he wouldn’t agree to it.

He noticed your disappointment, and his eyes softened a little.

“Look at you, your skin is so pure…if anything were to happen to it on my account, I could never forgive myself. Not only because of the pain it would inflict upon you, but also for my own selfish reasons.” He spoke slowly, letting his words sink in.

“My wife, you are so beautiful, and so smart. You have so much to give, and you are everything I am not. If you were to put yourself at risk of becoming like me, you would be condemning yourself to a short, bitter life of wasted potential. Though I may not be long for this world, I want to spend the remainder of my days admiring you and all that you bring. Please do not forsake the gifts God has given you for fleeting desires of the flesh,” he begged. His blue eyes were so wide, pleading, swimming with genuine emotion, but it wasn’t enough to break you. You knew what you wanted.

“Baldwin,” you said, addressing him directly for the first time, “Just this once, please. Let me do this for you.”

You tugged lightly at the fabric bunched up in his grasp. He resigned, allowing you to pull it away and discard it at the foot of the bed, leaving his mostly bare chest exposed to your intimate gaze. No woman had ever seen this much of him before. He watched as your eyes traced his body, beginning at his delicate neck and protruding collar bones, then down to the smooth expanse of creamy skin covering his chest, and finally to his well-defined middle. Those parts of him had yet to be contaminated by his affliction. You had yet to ever come into contact with his bare skin, but the way you were studying him, he could almost feel the sweet sensation of your fingertips ghosting over his body.

“Y/N, I’m sorry if you had hopes of…enjoying a true wedding night with me, but I must be honest with you, even if it does cause me great pain and regret-”

You hushed him quietly, clasping his hand in yours a little tighter.

“No, my love, you don’t have to explain to me. I understand. That is not what I came for. I simply wanted to take care of my husband.” You smiled, the corners of your eyes crinkling as you gazed down at him lovingly. He let out a breath and untensed his shoulders, relieved that he wasn’t letting you down after all. The sight of you smiling down at him with all the love in the world melted his heart, and his resolve broke.

“Alright. But please promise me you will cleanse yourself thoroughly afterwards. We must do everything we can to prevent the spread,” he whispered, dropping his hand to allow you to have your way with him.

Slowly, carefully, you reached for him, stretching your fingertips out and finally grazing them against the middle of his chest. He inhaled sharply, watching in awe. Your touch was feather-light, but it sent a spark of heat straight to his heart. His skin tingled. Gently, you applied a bit of pressure, encouraging him to lay back. He stared into your eyes and refused to look anywhere else as he readjusted his position, locks of blond hair shifting away from his brow as he reclined.

“That’s it, just like that. Perfect. Now, just relax, I brought some oils and salves for you. I’m going to take this bandage off now, okay?” You said, reaching for his wrapped hand. He nodded, and you slowly began unwinding the linens, peeling them away to reveal the most decayed part of his body; his right hand. Any skin left intact on it was shaded by a grayish hue, and the rest was just angry, red, open sores. You fought the urge to wince, not because it disgusted you, because it didn’t, but because you empathized with Baldwin, feeling the pain he must have felt in that moment. The bandages you removed were dotted with blood and other secretions from the angry wounds.

You continued unraveling, all the way up his arm, and its condition gradually improved the further up you got. Then you moved to the other arm, repeating the same process. Soon, it was time to attend to the linens coiled around his torso, protecting the rash on his back.

“Can you sit up for me, please?”

He wordlessly obeyed, watching you work through his curtain of fine, golden hair. You scooted over until you were fully seated on the bed, face to face with him. He was suddenly glad for the bandage covering most of his cheeks and nose, so you didn’t detect the blush rapidly spreading across them.

You reached around with your left arm and placed your cool palm against his shoulder blade to steady him as you pulled away the bandages. He sat as still as possible, not sure what to do with himself. His heart was about to beat out of his chest. Your hand was so soft, so slow…it was lulling him into a trance. He sighed deeply, letting the air roll all the way through his lungs. You deftly unweaved the bandage with your delicate fingers, working swiftly to avoid any discomfort that the pulling might cause him. Soon, all that remained was his face.

Wordlessly, you slid a hand up the back of his neck and cradled his head in your palm, threading your fingers through his curls. He let his head fall back, confident that you would support him, and closed his eyes. A quiet rumble emanated from the back of his throat when he felt your fingertips brush his forehead. Then, you peeled off the last bandage, finally exposing the sensitive skin of his face to the cool evening air.

Yes, his complexion was blemished and inflamed, as you expected. His nose was red and dry, some of the skin flaking off completely. His lips were in much the same condition. A smattering of pink blotches covered his handsome cheeks. But to you, nobody had ever looked closer to perfect. You grinned and cupped his face between your hands, gently circling your thumb over his cheek. His pretty blue eyes crinkled up at the corners as he smiled back, letting out a short laugh he never meant to let out.

“You are such a beautiful boy, Baldwin. I love seeing your smile so much,” you said, tracing his bottom lip. That smile only grew as he closed his eyes in bliss. Your warmth was almost too much for him to handle.

“I’m going to apply the salve now, okay?” you asked, gently laying his head down on his pillow and reaching for a bottle from your basket.

“Mhmm,�� he hummed contentedly. The smell of lavender and chamomile permeated the air as you scooped up a large blob of the salve and gently smeared it over his cheekbones. He sighed in relief as soon as it touched his parched skin, his pink lips parting. Soon, his face had absorbed most of the moisture, making him glisten in the candlelight like he was made of porcelain, and you moved onto his back, having him turn over. You ran your hands over the plains of his shoulder blades, massaging the tissue to help relieve any aches that may have built up. He groaned into the pillow in satisfaction. You smiled, continuing your ministrations.

Needless to say, Baldwin had never experienced anything remotely similar to this before. The way you handled him and didn’t shy away from coming into direct contact with the most afflicted parts of his body made his stomach do flips. Maybe he could get used to this.

‘I think I’m all done, my king. You can turn back over,” you said softly, putting the cork back in your bottle and stowing it away in the basket. Baldwin stretched leisurely and rolled over, hair partially obscuring his half-lidded eyes and crooked smile. He suddenly looked so young; only eighteen years old and he had already led an army.

“Thank you, love,” he murmured, reaching out to grab your hand, bravely intertwining your fingers. He figured the damage had already been done, and there was no harm in a few more precious seconds of warmth. So he swiftly lifted your hand and pressed it to his delicate lips, almost burning your skin with the lingering passion in his touch.

Now it was your turn to blush.

#king baldwin iv x reader #king baldwin iv #baldwin iv #kingdom of heaven #baldwin iv one shot #badlwin iv drabble #fluff #kingdom of heaven fluff #baldwin iv x reader #wedding night

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dovveri · 11 days ago

Note

pleaseee thigh riding with sana. shes extremely mean after a little teasing. lots of degrading. :D

the edge's temptation

synopsis: what the ask said

warnings: edging, spanking, pussy spanking, swearing, mentions of exhibitionism, kind of petplay? but not rly idk reader wears a collar and leash and sana calls her pup like once, grinding, thigh-riding, strap-ons, degradation

w/c: 2k

a/n: this has been sitting in drafts since... june 22 LMAOO id write like one sentence a week i cant write smut id rather kiss a man but here it is at last!! idk if the anon who req this is still here after all the drama but i think there are others who'll like this anyway bcs yall all horknee so enjoy!

｡ •̀ ᵕ •́ ｡

your girlfriend was impossible. she had already edged you twice tonight, and an orgasm was nowhere in sight.

"s-sana p-le-ase!"

she tuts, "what do you want?"

"wanna c-cum! p-please i've been- fuck- good!"

"good? bending over and sucking off half the audience is good?"

"i- i didn't- i didn't!"

"you basically did. you think just anyone can touch you? is that what we're doing now? fucking whore. you'd do anything for attention wouldn't you?"

"n-no! o-only yours- shit- sana please- i'm not- i'm good-"

"good girls don't lie. what you are is a liar and a slut. maybe i should just give you what you want. i can bring you back out there, fuck you in front of the entire award show. then they'll know they can't touch you right?"

you pulse at the thought, you know she'd never actually do it, she was way too possessive to let anyone else see you bare and ruined for her, but the slim possibility, the very real irritation she was exuding had you picturing exactly the situation she described. and fuck she was right, she knew you too well. you'd love to be claimed in front of everyone, for the whole world to see just how good sana could make you feel.

she chuckles darkly, ripping her fingers out of you, "clenching around me at that? and you say you're good. fucking pathetic. suck."

it's not a command. she shoves her fingers into your open, panting mouth roughly, chin tilting up at the sight of you. your lips immediately close around her fingers and you suck your slick off her digits obediently, eyes lidded, dizzy from the taste of yourself and the way she was treating you.

sana's eyes roam over the expanse of skin while you suck on her fingers, her hands tracing over the lines of your body. you're perched across her lap, her hand palming your ass, pretty lilac collar around your neck attached to a dark purple leash she's rolling around loosely in her other hand.

“look at you, dripping onto me. was this all me?” the hand that’s at your ass dips down, her fingers coming to slide between your soaked lips, “or was it the guys that fawned over you tonight? attention whore.” she sends a slap to your pussy, the contact making you whine, squirming away but also desperately needing more.

“i don’t even see how that one guy you let touch your waist was so funny. you were laughing so prettily, head tilted back, almost like you were tempting him to just claim the empty space on your neck.” she tugs the leash, your body lurching forward, pussy meeting her knee, throat constricting, trying to prolong the pressure on your cunt before she slaps your ass, pulling your hips back so you’re weight is on your hands and knees again.

“you’re mine. everything is mine. your voice, this pretty ass, these tits, your pussy, it’s all mine to feel, mine to enjoy, mine to see.” she punctuates each phrase with the tug of a nipple or a slap against reddened skin. “no one else can make you feel this good anyway isn’t that right slut? and yet you still look for that attention. it’s like you want me to get mad. is that it? do you want my attention? do you want me to treat you like this? you want me to get all possessive and mean? turns you on huh? well i hate to break it to you sweetie but only good girls get to cum.”

you whine, daring to turn your head to look at her with a pleading look, begging for something, anything.

she scoffs, "is that your begging face? i saw you use the exact same one with those guys tonight."

your face morphs into shock, trying to backtrack, "n-no i didn't! i didn't i swear- you- you must have seen wrong-"

"you saying there's something wrong with my eyes?"

"no! no no not you, p-please please i'm sorry i- i'll be good please-"

she tuts again, moving you around so you're sitting on her lap, dripping cunt finally getting some friction against the skin of her thigh. you moan at the feeling, frantically humping down against her while she has you there.

"look at you- pathetic."

you whine, wrapping your hands around her neck and burying your face into her shoulder, whimpering and gasping with each thrust against her thigh, too embarrassed to look at her but too desperate to keep yourself still. you almost cry out when she tenses her thigh, the muscle rubbing along your clit in just the way you needed.

"s-sana i want to- can i- please- i wanna-"

"what? what does my little pup want?"

"cum! c-can i cum!?"

sana's quiet for a little, you're almost afraid you've done something wrong or she's no longer into it, but you're physical needs outweighed your saner mind, your one-track mind only concerned with feeling as good as she was making you feel.

so you continue rutting against her, chasing your high desperately while she bites her lip, watching your tits sway with each thrust, her own position compromised as she feels herself grow sticky and wet from the sight and sounds.

you push against her, more and more, whining and moaning right into her ear, knowing she loves to hear you, testing her patience, fluttering internally at the way her grip on your hips tighten with each second, nails digging into your skin just enough to give that perfect sting you adored.

“s-sana? c-can i?” you ask again, holding back the looming crash of your orgasm through tensed muscles.

her eyes snap up to yours and then she grips your hips even harder, forcing you to stop.

you cry, body automatically fighting against her, trying to reject her, but it knew who owned it. you succumbed within seconds, gasping into her shoulder, mourning the loss of what could've been.

"at least you're polite now." her voice is gruff, nails still digging into your skin.

you can’t respond, too exhausted and despaired to do anything but cry.

you don’t even notice her shuffling you around, your hips canting up into nothing whenever she even lingers near your cunt.

that is until you feel the cool silicone strap dragging through your folds, lubing itself up in your essence, catching at your clit, then dragging back down.

you clench around nothing, throwing your head back with an arm over your eyes.

sana tuts, pulling it away, “look at me when i fuck you pup. i’m gonna make sure you remember who owns you.” she thrusts inside, doesn’t give you a chance to think before pulling back out, “gonna make sure you remember who you come home to.” another thrust. “going to fuck you out so good you’ll never be able to take anyone else but me.”

and then she takes off.

she’s gripping your hands together on your lower stomach. that way, your arms push your chest in for her pleasured viewing as she fucks into you with rigor. it also stops you from leaving lines of red down her back while she groans at the sight of the light purple strap attached to herself, grinding against her own clit with each thrust, pulling out wetter than it was each time it goes inside you.

“f-fuck- sana- oh god- i’m- you’re so good fuck-“

“yeah? can anyone else make you feel this way? anyone else- you’d cum for?”

“n-no! only y-you sana fuck- please can i- please-!”

“hold on a little longer baby- let me- fuck god you look so fucking good-"

you whine, thighs shaking as she keeps plowing into you, her eyes locked on the way she pushes inside you every half second. you don't think you can hold on for much longer, she had to understand right? she had edged you three times now, and you were already soo worked up even before she got her hands on you. that wasn't really your fault, she just looked so good in her pretty dress tonight and you couldn't stop imagining her between your legs, eating you out under the dining table while the rest of the world applauded people that would never hold a light to your girlfriend.

"sana i'm gonna- i can't hold it any longer-"

"i told you to fucking wait- fuck- you want me to stop again? huh? leave you hanging all splayed out and desperate to cum?"

you shake your head desperately, holding onto her wrists, eyes clenching shut trying to ward off the looming orgasm.

"i'm almost there baby we'll cum together- c'mon- fuck- you look so good- only i get to see you like this- fuck-"

you nod, her words swimming around in your head, doing whatever you can to appease her, hips returning her thrusts in a frenzy, not even trying to match her pace, just fucked out dumb and reacting with pure physicality.

she leans down, finally, panting next to your ear, thrusts reaching deeper than ever, "alright baby. cum for me."

you cum on command, clenching tightly around her and scream as you come undone, head thrown back, body fluttering and shaking as she continues rutting into you albeit slower and softer. you dimly register her muttering small curses against your throat as you come down, hips stuttering to a slow stop, still buried deep inside you.

you wrap your arms around her tightly now that she's freed you, hugging your sweaty bodies close and reveling in the feeling of her weight on top of you.

you lay like that for a few minutes, breathing in her scent and catching your breath together.

eventually, she has to pull out and you groan lightly as she gently coaxes herself off of you, brushing your sweaty hair off your forehead and pecking you sweetly.

you make grabby hands at her when she’s standing and taking the harness off.

sana giggles, “just a minute baby. you know i wanna cuddle too but i have to clean this.”

you whine incomprehensibly, mumbling a small hurry as she walks towards your bathroom and starts rinsing the strap off.

she comes back far too late for your liking so you try and make up for it by curling around her immediately, climbing almost on top of her and sighing when she runs a hand through your hair in comfort.

“good?”

“you don’t even have to ask.” you mumble against her bare chest, eyes drooping.

she giggles again, you feel the movement in her throat, “wasn’t too much right?”

you shake your head, “you were perfect. like always. thank you. i love you.”

you feel the smile on her lips when she kisses your forehead, “don’t pull that shit in public again or i swear-“

“you’ll fuck it out of me?” you glance up at her with a lazy smile and lidded eyes.

she rolls her eyes, tightening her grip around you, “spoilt.”

“because you love me.”

“i do. even when you’re being a brat.”

“you love when i’m a brat. you love taking power anyway since everyone thinks you can’t top.”

“who thinks that?!”

you shrug, cuddling closer as she gawks at you, trying to get you to look at her. “jeongie says it’s because you have no muscle.” you poke at her bicep lovingly, laughing when she blanches and tries flexing immediately, “nayeonnie says you’re too much of a baby.”

“am not!”

“and momo just doesn’t see it.”

“wha-“

“and she’s known you for the longest soo-“

“okay first of all my muscle is growing back! second, nayeon just says that because she treats me like that and she’s never known otherwise! and momo- momo’s just saying shit because she wants to mess with me!”

you laugh, clasping your hands together and kissing the swell of her breast, “i know i know… i’m not complaining anyway.” you stretch and curl back around her like a cat, “i get all the benefits.”

sana puffs her chest and you adore her pride. “that’s right.”

you giggle, kissing her again and continue talking about nothing and everything, a non-negotiable for the both of you after any session, no matter how quick or small.

#sana #minatozaki sana #twice sana #sana x reader #twice x reader #twice sana x reader #minatozaki sana x reader #twice smut #sana smut #sana imagines #twice imagines #dovveri

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wispyxjae · 1 month ago

Text

gentle

genre: smut, 18+ mdni

summary: cuddling with riku turns into lazy oral

cw: oral (f receiving), riku needs to hold eye contact, dirty talk

a/n: this was requested, thank you for making me write about riku bc i've been dying to but didnt know how to go about it. also missing riku hours now that he's on hiatus :(

riku is just sooo so cuddly. he asks his members for hugs just to recharge his energy and it’s so endearing. this detail about him doesn’t change, but intensifies with you.

imagine him coming home after a long hectic work day of jam packed schedules, barely having time to think to himself.

he immediately comes to you, not even bothering to change into comfier clothes or wash up first, he just wants you right now.

he’s putting his full body weight on you, flopping onto the bed and not moving. his face is buried in your neck and you put your phone down to welcome him happily. he only adjusts so he can breathe better, but other than that it’s a comfortable silence.

you’re running your fingers through his hair, your nails lightly scratching at his scalp as he lets out little grunts of pleasure.

“feels good,” he mumbles into your skin, tickling you and making you smile in response.

“you worked hard today, baby,” you tell him gently, hands still carding through his dark locks.

after a few more moments of silence, you think your boyfriend fell asleep by the way his breathing steadied out.

just then, riku inhales deeply. he starts pressing kisses to the soft skin between your neck and shoulder, moving inward toward your chest. his eyes are still closed but he knows your body like his own, knowing exactly where to place his lips to make you shiver under him.

his fingers are pushing your shirt up a bit, just so he can drag his lips across your hip and stomach. you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in.

“i thought you were tired, babe,” you say gently, your hand finding its way back to the top of his head.

“just want you right now,” he mumbles into your skin, the vibrations sending sparks to your stomach. “been thinking about you all day today.”

you blush, biting your lip in anticipation as he moves down to settle between your legs. he looks up at you with tired eyes and your heart skips a beat. he doesn’t break eye contact as he pulls your bottoms down, leaving your panties on.

“haven’t even done anything and you’re wet,” he whispers, almost to himself. you gasp as he starts teasing you through the fabric, fingers rubbing against the damp material. “will you let me eat you out, my love?” his eyes lock with yours.

“yes,” you breathe out in response, your fingers tugging at his hair lightly.

he wastes no time, pulling your panties to the side and licking a stripe up from your entrance to your clit, stopping to place small kisses to the bud.

his eyes haven’t left yours the entire time, his sharp eyes blinking slowly when he attaches his mouth to your cunt, flattened tongue swiping at your slit.

“feels nice,” you say softly, your hand pushing back his hair to get a better view of him. you shut your eyes in pleasure, the feeling of him on your pussy overwhelming you.

“mm-mm,” riku tuts as he pulls away, making your eyes shoot open and eyebrows furrow in confusion. “keep looking at me or i’ll stop, baby.”

you whine at the loss of contact but don’t do anything to argue as he pulls your panties down, putting them off to the side somewhere. his hands run along your hips and thighs as he settles back between your legs. the kisses he leaves are fleeting as he makes his way back to your pussy, running a finger along your dripping slit.

“just watch me and let me make you feel good, yeah?” he asks, his free hand squeezing at your hip before he returns his mouth to your heat, eating you out to his heart’s content to relieve the stress of the busy day he had before.

tags: @rikupid and @sminiac mwah ♡

#jae writes ─‎♡₊˚#riku x reader #maeda riku x reader #riku smut #maeda riku smut #riku hard hours #maeda riku hard hours #riku imagines #maeda riku imagines #riku scenarios #maeda riku scenarios #nct wish riku #nct wish riku smut #nct wish x reader #nct wish riku hard hours #nct wish hard hours #nct wish smut

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carmenized-onions · 2 months ago

Text

Loosen Your Grip. | R & D

logline; even when it seems counter-intuitive.

[!!!] series history; so many parts, so many words.

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. 8 hour mark officially! Lets go!

portion; 15k knowing the next chapters, this trend isn't going to change. they have started to line up with the chapter number, to my chagrin.

possible allergies; i think this one is relatively harmless? Stress though. Everyone's stressed. Idk what to tell you man, it's the bear. oh but more things were yoinked from Season 3!! Think that's just gonna be ongoing tbh. also if this is bad don't tell me. tell me it's really good, actually. i've never doubted a chapter more than I do this one.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader it's so fem. it's so she/her'd it's so girl'd i'm so sorry

kofi; if you’ve enjoyed the series, perhaps you wanna tip!

i'm so sorry for the delays beloveds, can you say 'most high stress but high reward month and a half of my life'? i can!!!

The Monday morning after New York— The first morning waking up in your own bed in a day or two— Comes rudely. Well, not immediately. First you have to roll over and grab aimlessly at your nightstand, searching for your phone to turn off your alarm. Through blurred vision you slide it to snooze, and as you debate going back to bed, your eyes glaze over some texts you’ve received in your sleep, from numbers you never bothered to put in your contacts. It takes a minute to absorb the information and register it as real, but once you do—

“...Are you fucking kidding me?!”

—You’re definitely not gonna be heading back to bed anymore. You’re wide-eyed and wired— You can probably skip coffee this morning. Maybe every morning forever.

“Oh— I fucking hate this fucking city, I fucking hate Chicago— Fuck this!”

In lieu of coming to terms with your world shattering news, perhaps this is an important moment to express gratitude, for the things that have gone well in the past few days.

The rest of the weekend in New York was as lovely as a last-minute trip in a cramped car full of kitchen equipment and four neurotics can be.

Gratitude. Highlight reel?

There’s a bag M and Ms monogrammed with Syd’s, Richie’s, Carmy’s, and your faces in your pantry now. Eva shouldn’t be the only one allowed to have fun. Though snacking on all your cute little faces does make you feel like a slight monster.

Managed to get a good gift for Richie. Thank you Tiffanys. It was certainly an interesting moment when everyone tried to come up with lame excuses as to why they had to split up from the group to definitely totally not go get Christmas presents.

Carmen’s knife guy wasn’t able to do engravings on such short notice, and you’re not the type to settle for less, especially not with Syd, so that’ll be a next year gift, it seems. You came up with a serviceable back-up while strolling through the MET— Which was a mostly fun field trip, it was very inspiring. You all could've done without Richie's pretentious prattling about postmodern absurdist dadaism. Mostly because you're pretty sure half of it was wrong; but still a good trip, all told.

Still lost on what to get Carmen… You’ve got a week, it’s fine. You’ve done more with less before. How do you subtly ask a guy, ‘hey, what the hell else do you like besides your job?’ You’ll figure it out. Figure it out like you figure out everything else, like you always do. Hopefully.

It's Monday. You've got a week. It's fine. Stop looking at your phone. This is such bad timing. This is awful fucking timing. You’ll figure it out. Stop looking at your phone, stop looking at the texts. Do the Connections, send it to Carmy, he already sent his, be normal… Just such bad timing—

At the very least if you can't bear to look away from the life ruining texts, just shut your phone off. You’ve got to stop ruminating or you’ll rot in bed forever. And you really have to get out on time, today.

“God wants me to kill myself—” Gratitude. Express gratitude.

The drive back went ‘well’. Everyone had their licenses so the squad took shifts either driving or sitting on the uncomfortable console. Or, in your case specifically, sitting half on Carmen’s lap in shotgun on occasion despite the many complaints from Syd and Richie. You had a good excuse! Neither of you slept for the entire trip just to work on the cocktail and coffee menu. It was practically a sacrifice! It was just easier to sit up front together, okay!? You had to be close, you were scribbling ratios and drawings of glasses into a stolen notepad from the Holiday Inn with pencil crayons bought from FAO Schwarz—

Oh, hey, put that on the gratitude scoreboard, that was another thing that went well. Pretty cool to go to the oldest toy store in America. Might not have gotten the chef in your life anything yet, but the kids in your life are covered— You’re winning best Aunt for sure.

Oh, huge highlight— Didn’t say love you, like some idiot. Got away with that by the skin of your teeth, honestly. Hard to stare up at the Rockefeller Christmas Tree next to the guy and not blurt out something fucking stupid. Thank God for Syd, who stomped on your foot when you seemed a little too doe eyed.

With great pain and bemoaning, you finish expressing gratitude, which hasn’t helped much. You slam your phone screen down on your nightstand and roll out of bed.

Today’s Monday. Today’s your first day at The Bear. Today that is the priority and there is nothing else to worry about.

You signed your contract last night. Talked to Syd for hours about it, planning next steps and goals and classes and budgets and a million other things. You’re both a little easily excitable, when it comes to lists and plans. Watching you sign yours gave her the ‘confidence’ to sign hers, if you can call it that. Not like you knew she needed the help, though.

“I love my life, I love my life, I love my life…” If you keep saying it while washing your face in the bathroom, it’ll become true, right? …Where’s Sara’s card again?

The Bear doesn’t run service on Mondays, so it’s a good day to do onboarding— Good day to do R and D. …What does one wear to R and D? Don’t need the serving uniform. Don’t need to dress up. Don’t need the jumpsuit… This is the first time you don’t need a uniform and that is bizarre.

You’ll wear your dad’s flannel, at least. Feels illegal to not wear the patch worked flannel. But besides that, you’re just a normal… restaurateur… part of the team…

Your hand hovers over where your necklace sits, in the small jewellery box on your vanity. “Mikey, if you want me to keep wearing it, make my ceiling cave in or some shit.”

You give it ten seconds and nothing falls. With a curt nod to no one, you pick up your book bag filled with loose tools and the menu filled notepad. Leave your bedroom, put your shoes on, grab your keys out of your clay dish tray on the way out.

It’s snowing.

That’s a lot of stuff falling, so to speak.

That’s basically a sign. That’s basically what you asked for.

You head back in, grab the necklace, hook it over your neck, and tuck it under your shirt. Baby steps. You head back out.

…And then soon after, head back in— Forgetting one of the most important things you need today. “The fucking glass, goddamn it!”

There’s a chance that today might be a little bit of an off day for you. No one’s gonna notice that, though.

“Mikey, why didn’t you tell me? You want me to look stupid on my start day, don't you? Fucker.”

You’re good. You’re you. You figure shit out. You’re compartmentalising perfectly and no one’s gonna be able to tell that you’re internally scrambling to figure out where you're gonna live once your lease gets terminated.

“ ‘Sup with you?” Okay, so Tina did immediately notice upon opening the back door for you. She tries to help you with the huge sheet of plexiglass you’re carrying, but you wave her off, stumbling further inside The Bear. Thankfully it’s a slow start to the morning, so the walk way is clear for your fumbled steps.

“I got it, T, just spot me—”

“Woahwoahwoah—” But alas, immediately Carmen is rushing over, making a big deal over nothing, “Fuck are you doin?” And grabs the thick sheet of glass from you. “Wait by your car next time, why do I gotta keep tellin’ you?”

“I am very capable—” You grunt, but you’re relieved when he takes the weight off you. You nod to the table in front of expo. “Put it on the island.”

“What’s it for?” Carmy asks but he follows direction without hesitation.

“Syd’s idea.” You walk with him, sidling up to Syd who’s already stationed up on the island with what looks like way too much paperwork for Chefs. You bump her shoulder as a greeting, she bumps you back. She lifts up the stack of papers and you pick up her deli container of Coke and ice, letting Carmen slide the glass onto the table.

“Unless it’s bad—” You correct, putting the cup down and digging through the tool bag on your shoulder for the right parts. “If you hate it, then it’s my idea.”

Syd snorts next to you, putting the papers back down on top of the glass. “Nice save.”

“What’s your idea, Chef?” Carmen taps his fingers against the glass, bemused.

You finally fish out two lock hinges from your bag, gesturing to them with a little flair like you’re Vanna White as Sydney explains. “For R and D. Thought since we’re like— Constantly changing shit and needing to review, it’d be like, useful to have a whiteboard— But those are huge and inconvenient for a restaurant— Duh— So—”

“Glass!” You come in with the assist as she rambles on. “On hinges— These one’s lock so you can have the glass sort of tilted up like an easel, or on the station— And then when you start service you can just flip it down off the counter for the night. Easy!”

“And—And—” Like a TV ad, Syd points out, “We can put paper under it and still be able to see— So it’ll make editing clearer— I-I think.”

Carmen always takes a nerve-wracking amount of time to think through other’s ideas, but once he nods, you both breathe easy. “Smart idea. Thank you, Chefs.”

You just smile, and this seems to bother Carm. Or at the very least, something is bothering him, as he frowns. “You got a second?”

Your brows furrow, for a moment, worried. You nod, putting your tools down. Glass can wait. “Always.”

Carmen comes around the counter, before he pulls you aside, Syd whispers over your shoulder, “Trouble in paradise.” Making you snort. When has it ever been paradise?

The two of you lean across from each other in the doorway of Carmen’s office, not quite in, not quite out. He looks worried, and his worrying is making you worry. He’s first to say something, concerned hand on your shoulder.

“Are you good?”

Fuck, he caught you too? “Hmm? Yeah, I’m good, do I not—”

You’re halfway through your response when he interrupts, he seems even more panicked by your words. His hand abandons your shoulder. “Right— Stupid, stupid fucking question— I just— Sorry—”

“Woah—” You grip both his shoulders, rubbing down his sleeves lightly. “Are you good, Carmy? You’re right, sweets. You caught me. I’m a lil’ off today. What gave me away?”

“Right, yes— You’re nice.” He’s saying it more to himself than you, like he needs to remind himself. Even so, it still hitches your heartbeat. “I— I’m good, I was just—You didn’t text me back this morning.”

“Oh.” You say it so breathlessly, with relief. It’s cute that that’s what’s got him freaking. “Sorry, yeah, I’ve been trying to not look at my phone, I just got some…” You shake your hand in the air for effect. “Bleh news. Put a wrench in some things for me, that’s all.”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“Ah—” You shake your head, waving it off, “Too much to get into. Later, though?”

“Yeah, yeah. Whenever you want.” He nods. “Ah, I wanna get into uhm—” Carmen snaps his fingers a few times, finding the words. “Get into drinks, today. I made all the concentrates and syrups ahead of time—But Uncles gonna come in first with The Computer to go over some numbers shit— Should be here in thirty?”

You nod, squinting. “Is it like… A special computer or something?”

“Computer is a guy.” Carmen says, while Syd yells the same in tandem with him, “Why wouldn’t he be!?” Walking past you both as she carries produce out of the walk-in.

“Why wouldn’t he be?” You grin, reiterating. Your smile soon sobers though, as you finally notice a giant silver blob of machinery behind Carmen. “Baby, what the fuck is that?”

You’re already walking past him, quickly winding up all over again. It’s a gorgeous espresso machine— “It’s an Ascaso.” Explains Carmen. “It’s the best.” And it’s sitting exactly where your beautiful beat up mistake of a heavily-stained coffee machine used to be.

“Baby, baby, baby—” you’re looking above and below the station for your rusted companion, hushed and panicked. “Don’t tell me you threw away the old one—”

“You want the old one?”

Richie’s timing is perfect, as he walks in from front of house, and even from just hearing the last sentence, “Fuckin’ told you, Carm.” He knows the context. He keeps walking— On a mission, seemingly.

“I’m grateful— I- I am.” You kneel down and shove some mixing bowls aside to see if it was tucked in the back of some shelf— It’s not here. She’s not here. “New is good— New is nice— I’ll learn how to use the new one— I will— But— I— I need the old one— You didn’t throw it away, did you?”

When he stays silent, you turn and look up to Carmen from where you’re crouched on the ground, pleading. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“I— I—” The Chef is nearly sweating from this line of questioning alone. “It— It barely worked—”

“I know it didn’t! That’s the point!”

He blinks. You just seem to be saying all his trigger phrases, today, huh? “That’s the point?”

“I knew how she worked.” You push yourself back up onto your feet. “It’s got an espresso function that doesn’t work, if you tamp the basket the basket literally breaks off so you have to hold it and burn your hand a little— You have to hold the hot water button at the same time as the grind button for some reason or it won’t dispense— It’s literally a fucking nightmare— I covered it in like ten sticky notes of instructions at one point and they became pointless because no one but me was willing to use it. And— And I’ve got it memorized.”

“...And you want that?”

“No one’s gonna know how to take care of her, she’s my baby!” You gesture, albeit a bit too dramatically, speaking with your hands. “If you throw her away or donate her, no one’s gonna take the time to figure it out— They’re just gonna think she’s broken but she’s not, she works! She just needs the right hand!”

A dull silence falls between you, as Carmen purses his lips, squinting. There’s an ever slight chance your ‘I’m totally fine’ facade is cracking. “...Are you sure you don’t want to talk about your thing right—”

“I’m good!” “...Okay.” “Did you get rid of her?”

“Relax, Handy!” Carmen does not say this.

You grimace, looking behind Carmen to see Chi-Chi yelling from around the bend, in The Beef’s corner territory. Looking over him with the blue apron calling you your least favourite nickname by far— Well, second least favourite, only to— “She’s over here, Jack-Off. More our speed than rich boy’s ack - queso bullshit…” It’s nostalgic. Bad nostalgic but nostalgic.

He slaps the top of the machine, you and Carmen both wince as a random spigot falls off it. Chi-Chi clicks his tongue, staring at it in silence. “...Refresher would be good, though.”

You’re already walking back to your damaged darling, patting Carmen on the shoulder as a form of goodbye, he pats your hand back. You don’t get to see him smile, as he watches you get to work. “Don’t fuckin’ call me Jack-Off and don’t touch her, I’ll show you, I’ll break your hand Cheech, I swear—”

The man in question shrugs, a devilish and terrible smirk on his stupid face. “Ey, love a woman in charge. Show me the ways.”

Even on your most off days, working with The Beef will always be second nature for you. Even when the space is significantly more cramped than it used to be.

You rewrite directions on how to use the coffee machine while showing them to Ebra and Chi-Chi. Ebra tends not to learn new tricks, so he stops listening by the time you get to syrups. That’s fine. No one ordered syrups in their coffee at The Beef back in the day all that often either.

Mikey really shouldn’t have invested in all those syrups back then. He really only did it for you and the staff. To be fair, when he did convince regulars to try your coffee they always changed their tune. The people don’t know what they like yet. They will like this. You were his proof that that idea was true.

“You gotta toss these, Boss. Slows you down.” You overhear Cheech saying behind you. You turn to see his arm on Ebra’s shoulder, holding the small blue baskets for sandwiches in his other hand. “Just the wrapping is fine. These people are gonna throw this shit out anyways, waste of plastic.”

Cheech turns his head to you, “Right, Handy?”

“...Don’t call me Handy.” Don’t freak out about throwing the old stuff away. Don’t freak out about throwing his old stuff away. You shrug, looking at Ebra over your shoulder. “Maybe just offer them, if they ask for one?”

“Y’know what the people are asking for, babe?” Cheech sucks his teeth, pulling Ebra closer, who looks nonplussed. “They’re asking where the nearest brick is to throw through our window. This rich people shit is getting on their nerves.”

You sigh, eyes flitting to Ebra for confirmation. “Yeah?”

He shrugs, nodding. “Ninety-eight percent, Jack-Off.” Cheech and the gang have been a terrible influence. How are you going to undo this?

“C’mon, E…” You scoff, but nod as you turn around, arms crossed. Gesturing with the frother as you do. “Well, I’ll make note of that. Now back to the fuckin’ hand frother, Cheech?”

“I know how to crank it, Handy—” “I swear to fucking God—”

“Ey!” Tina comes up to your corner, smacking the back of Chi-Chi’s head with a hand towel when she does. “Don’t talk to the baby like that, clean your mouth.”

He puts one hand on the back of his head, hissing, and another up in front of him, in defense. “Ey, T, it’s all love, aright? Playing!”

“Yeah well, you’re not gonna wanna play wit’ this one. ‘Specially not now—” She nudges you, smiling that coy ‘I’m about to blow up your spot’ smile.

You grimace, attempting to interrupt her. “T, don’t—” “That she’s Jeff’s.” “—Goddamnit.”

“Oh! Oh shit!” Cheech laughs, delightfully shocked. “You finally closed on Charmin’? Congrats—” It’s a blessing and a curse that Carmen, the guy you only ever saw in photos and heard in stories that you had a very minor and not vocal crush on, is now your… boyfriend? Undetermined.

You wave a hand in his face, “Shut the fuck up—”

“So where should I send flowers?”

You hate this family. “For the record, I have not closed shit.”

“What’s closing?” Tina takes a half step back, surveying your face, it doesn’t reveal anything. “What’s that? Gramps?” She turns her question on Ebra, who shrugs, equally as old and unknowing.

“Well Jack-Off’s a little Mother Mary for my taste—”

You scoff, “So not true, for the record—” but Chi-Chi continues his tirade. “So I suspect she just means they haven't had the ‘are we datey-wating carmy baby?’ talk.”

You all but growl, crossing your arms as you wait for the second tutorial coffee to finish dispensing from the beloved whirring machine behind you. You can get the fuck out of here as soon as it’s done, and you’re praying that’s soon, because this interrogation is about to turn terrible. “We are currently unlabelled, if that’s what you’re trying to say.”

Tina kisses her teeth, poking at your shoulder. “Richie told me you spent the whole wedding together and you come back with no label?”

You sigh, composure falling apart. You are not ready for a mother’s disappointment. “We talked out a lot of important stuff—” “Mija, that is important stuff!”

“I just— We’ll talk eventually—”

Chi-Chi conveniently interrupts you when it looks like Tina’s about to go off into a full rant on the downfall of romance in modern relationships. “So you’re still on the market, Handy?”

“For you?” You smile, then drop it. Pushing your hand against his forehead. “Never. Now froth the fucking milk.”

He mumbles an endless series of expletives, but gets to work. You give him a quick tutorial on the hand frother— You fought hard for the old machine, but you are overjoyed to see an automated steamer and frother on that Ascaso. That part is gonna be a dream. You can make so many new drinks for Carm— The menu.

When you finish, you take the latte from Cheech to hand to Tina; and when you do, you catch her looking… off. She’s staring at the piled up diner baskets, next to the unused napkin dispensers.

You put your hand on her shoulder, massaging it lightly. “You good, T?”

Your hand shocks her back into reality, “Yeah, yeah, I’m good, baby.” It takes her a second to remember where she is. She takes the latte, nodding. “I’m good. You good?”

“I’ve got my complaints.” You shrug. “But nothing I won’t survive.” Probably.

Tina takes a sip of her coffee, continuing to nod. She wants to dig deeper into your thing, you want to dig deeper into hers, but the painful groaning from the front of the kitchen, “And when did I fuckin’ greenlight this?” interrupts both your trains of thought. Uncle Jimmy tends to have that effect.

With a knowing nod, you walk together to the front, leaving Ebra and Cheech to continue experimenting with the coffee machine before they open their side of the restaurant.

You watch from the sidelines as Carmen defends his choices, “The old one was shit, she was burning her hands on it. She’ll need the three groups to keep up.” and you’re able to quickly glean they’re talking about the new espresso machine.

“Okay, I hear that,” Jimmy nods, “but why the fuck did it need to be ten grand?”

“Ten?!” You can’t help but shout, you slap your hand over your mouth. Budget is none of your business. But fucking ten? You part your fingers to mumble through your hand, “Sorry, continue.”

Carmen cares too much about your drink menu. Berzattos tend to invest too much into your special interests. Though this time, instead of syrups, and in addition to a 10k coffee machine, you see on the stainless steel table your shared sketches laid out alongside all the ingredients needed– Including the concentrates, whips, and other compounds Carmen made ahead of time for you. He’s so sweet. God, you love him. God, that’s disgusting. They have all, of course, been haphazardly shoved aside though, to make room for The Computer’s— Computer. Carmy’s nonplussed by that fact, it seems.

Jimmy gestures to you, deadpanning to Carm. “See, Chip understands the power of the dollar.”

“I’m not involved.” You add, waving your hand, it’s a terrible moment for your favouritism to shine through. Though you do enter the radius of this trainwreck of a quarterly review, kneeling down by the kitchen island to finish what you started with the plexiglass and hinges. “Ignore me, continue.”

The men stand on either side of you, as you bolt down the hinges. Carmen brushes off the dollar comment with a simple, “It’s the best.”

Why do you need the best? You think; Jimmy concurs with your brain, speaking for both of you. “Why do you need the best?”

The question seems to make no sense to Carmen. He freezes, blue-screening. “Cause—”

You duck your head under the counter at just the right moment— Or just the wrong moment? Because you don’t get to see Carmen looking down at you, then back up at his uncle. “Because.”

You don’t see Uncle Jimmy practically roll not just his eyes but his entire body back into himself, witnessing the puppy love that is going to ruin his credit score. “Chip…”

When you slide yourself out from under the counter, Carmen puts his hand on the edge of the counter to make sure you don’t hit your head— Because you have an awful tendency to do so. You’re too focused on the way Uncle Jimmy says your name like you’re in trouble to notice though. “What’d I do?”

“You’re you.” Jimmy grimaces, shaking his head. It’s not your fault. Not completely. “F-Y-I– Your boss just cut your bar budget by ten grand.”

“Hm.” You squint, lips in a line. “And what do I do if the budget I was planning was just ten grand?”

“Well respect yourself more than that.” Cicero scoffs, arms crossed. “Take twenty, now you’re back to ten. You’re welcome.”

“Generosity knows no bounds.” You shake your head, laughing him off as you duck your head back under the counter. “Thank you, Unc.”

“Sorry, who exactly are we giving twenty thousand?”

“Oh fuck—” Despite Carmen’s best efforts, you still manage to bump your head on the roof of the counter, alarmed by the new voice— The Computer, you assume. “Fuckin—Ow— Sorry! Y’know what, hol’ on, let me just finish up here—”

“It’s the drink budget. Tony’s the new mixologist.” Natalie answers for you. “And sommelier.”

“Ah,” hums The Computer. “She’s the one we’re paying Quarter-Master for?”

“Nah, that’s me.” Gary strolls by, calling out to wherever his manager has gone, “Richie, you find that book yet?!”

“I’m taking them too!” You finally pop your head out from underneath the counter, finished bolting in the hinges. “Apparently I need actual W-S-E-T certification and a bunch of memorized google searches, youtube videos, and wine review blogs do not legally make you a sommelier.”

“I think it’s impressive you made it this far on basically nothing.” Syd taps the top of your head, she’s the one who made the call on schooling. She looks to her co-owner. “Classes are coming out of the advanced.”

“So is this.” You tap the plexiglass, nodding up to Carmen as well. “You’re workin’ with like… A thousand left for pre-paid work?”

“Hm.” Carmen nods, looking at The Computer, and you turn your head to him too. “Did you account for that?”

“Did I account for a thousand dollars?”

Carmen shakes his head like a white flag immediately, hearing the sarcastic tone, “Alright, you don’t—”

“A thousand dollars does not take you out of the hole, man.” He’s right, but you don’t love the tone. He tilts his head, reading something off his screen. “Payroll is a little high, for a somme.”

“I don’t disagree—” You try to say, because yeah, your contract does have a weirdly high salary.

But Jimmy, Nat, and Carm all speak over you. “It’s not.”

“That’s not pay for a somme, that’s a pay for Chip, you don’t need to enhance on that.” Jimmy deads the topic then and there. “You’ll see. Just trust me. You were sayin’ somethin about tiny plants?”

“Microgreens.” Says Syd.

“Yes. Do less of that.”

And you just watch, from the sidelines, as this crew flows into a bit of a repetitive we’re doing this, which gains the response, well stop. Do less, charge more, figure it out, duh, don’t duh– What’s that you’re hearing about a daily changing menu? Carmen seems to be the only one campaigning for it. At a point he just starts pacing, pointing at numbers on The Computer’s screen that he doesn’t understand but pretends he does.

You’ve got a million ideas, but it’s none of your business. It very literally isn’t your business, until Jimmy turns his head just so, grimacing at the non stop debate, to see you standing aside, arms crossed.

He sighs, beckoning you to the table, like it’s a witness stand. “What’s that fuckin’ face on your face, kid?” Oh, for the love of God, why are you so easy to read?

You pfft, shrugging. “I’m not makin’ a face—!” But you come forward nonetheless as he boldly speaks over you.

“You’re makin’ a face,” — “This is just what I look like,” — “Y’know how I know you’re makin’ a face?” — “Enlighten me.” — “Cause it’s the same fuckin’ face—”

He takes this moment to point at the face on your face. “That your dad makes.” A man that gambles as well as Cicero is a man that knows your dad’s tells. And a man that knows your dad’s tells is a man that knows your tells.

You bite down on your inner cheek, poorly pretending to be confused, shrugging again, “I dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Come off it.” “I’m not on anything, Unc—” “You’ve got a problem, say it.”

“I don’t have a problem!” You have a lot of problems, but they can’t know that. That makes you judgy and pushy— You don’t know enough about the business to have an opinion. “I’m just observing, that’s all.”

Uncle looks up, to Heaven, to Mikey, and sighs the world’s heaviest sigh. It sounds painful. When he finally tilts his head back down to you, it’s to say, “C-K.”

“Cicero.”

“Y’know why I’m able to pour mas queso into this fuckin’ kid?” He loosely gestures in the direction of Carmen, who in response seems to bite down a lot of venom. It’s bad to think he’s pretty when he’s annoyed, isn’t it?

You tilt your head, “Honestly, I always assumed some sort of mob association.”

Jimmy holds back his laughter, it comes out as a disgruntled cough. He shrugs. “It’s because when I saw your dad at the table, makin’” —He gestures to you— “That fuckin’ face, I knew to pull back.”

“You don’t need to pull back.” Your reply is a touch too panicked and instant for anyone’s liking, makes it a little less believable. But Cicero smirks, and you know that face as well as he knows yours. Check. He’s got you.

“Then speak on it.” And he pushes you forward, just slightly, like a slap of support on your back. You grimace, looking to Carm and Syd for permission to have opinions, and they both nod, like it’s obvious. With great hesitation, lips pressed together, you finally allow yourself to come off as judgy, opinionated, a fixer.

“I think the chargers are kinda stupid.”

A plate no one eats off of, that they still have to clean, that’s on top of another plate? Definitely super necessary. Definitely not some rich people NOMA bullshit.

You look to Syd, apologetic. She shrugs, open mouthed, head tilted, “I– I mean, I didn’t invent them.”

“It’s presentation.” Carmen nods, to himself. He doesn’t like to budge. “That first look at the table affects everything.”

“Yes.” You nod, directly across the counter from him. “I agree, I just think the plates are stupid.”

“You got somethin’ better?”

“Think so.” You hum, tilting your body back to yell to the back of the restaurant. “Ay, Cheech! Pass me a fuckin’ basket!”

It’s without hesitation that you hear, “Hut!” before even seeing the man. You see the blue basket being hurled towards you before you see the man. You catch it, albeit a bit clumsy, but you catch it.

You toss the basket on the table. Everyone stares. You defend yourself before anyone even criticizes it, “Easier to clean than plates, because you just need to rinse the plastic. Ties together a colour scheme, costs nothing, they’re gonna be tossed anyways.”

“It looks cheap.” Carmen tuts, but he really does seem to be trying to hear out the idea, despite his reservations.

“It looks purposeful.” You double down, leaning on the counter just so, “It carries a story, that we didn’t forget where we started.”

“Ooh.” Marcus, clocking in just in time, hums behind you. “Kind of a bar, Chef.”

“Thank you, Chef. Morning, Chef.” You fist bump him over your shoulder, not looking. Too focused on convincing the man before you, you let him think in silence for some time before asking. “Think on it?”

“No.” Carmen shakes his head, and you’re a little crestfallen, for a second. “It’s good. Let’s do the baskets, yeah—” He then remembers to ask for permission, he turns his head to Syd, “Yeah?”

“Yeah? Oh, uh. Yeah. Yeah. Baskets are good.” Syd nods to Nat. “Can you look into, uh—”

“Returning the expensive as fuck earthenware shit? Happily.” Nat is far too cheery upon receiving a paperwork rabbit hole of a mission. She brushes past you, excitedly whispering, “Please keep going.”

“Oh, uh—” Are you some sort of thought leader now? “Well, uhm, I think I heard you sayin’” —You snap your fingers at The Computer, “That R and D cost is a little high?”

“A lot high.” He corrects.

“Kid with crayons.” Jimmy tuts, “Need to pull back a little.”

Carmen’s screwing and unscrewing the cap of a mason jar— Marmalade, it’s for Syd’s drink. He made it this morning, it’s labelled down to the minute. Just let him work on his fucking drinks menu, please God. He’s been dying for this moment and it’s being thrown off by this bullshit.

He can’t keep biting his tongue, “Hey, uh, why don’t you just tell us to do everything a little bit less so we can skip this and get back to work, huh?”

You hear Uncle Jimmy inhale as preparation to verbally beat Carmen’s ass. You put one hand up in front of the old man’s face, the other hand grabs a dry-erase marker. “He didn’t mean it like that and he apologizes, Unc.”

“Does he now?”

“He does.” You drop your hand, focusing on lifting the glass panel, clicking the locks in place to keep it up. You nod to Carmen through the pane. “Right, Carmy?”

Poor Carmen nearly deflates, “...I’m tryna be the guy.”

“Not what the guy does, baby boy.” You hum, uncapping the marker with your teeth. You turn your head to Cicero. “Guy had a lapse, he forgot you were his boss and just thought of you as family, so he spoke to you like family, cause he loves you, Unc.”

Cicero nods, tilting his head just so at Carmen. “S’that right?”

Carm manages to shake his head and nod all at the same time, “S’a facet.”

“....Well, just don’t do it again.” A crisis is averted and an uncle is softened.

“I love to see a family come together.” You hum, nonchalant, writing on the glass, ‘R & D - Cost: Bad’

“Bring it from bad to good.” The Computer notes very helpfully. “You can cut—”

“Hol’ on.” You put your index finger up, effectively shushing him, “Just think about it first. We don’t have to go straight to cutting. Let’s look at our options.”

“Your options are fucked.”

“Just—” You tut, rubbing the bridge of your nose, man, you really are becoming your dad right now. Loosen your grip, Jack. “Widen the scope. We cut costs through returning those chargers— How else can we ‘return’ shit? Carmy?”

Thank God you’re the guy, because Carm can’t hack it. “Heard? Yes?” And frankly, he doesn’t want to.

“What’s the main cost on R and D?”

“Supplies. Food— Y’know, lot of trial and error.” He nods to a bus tub filled with failed attempts over this morning’s session. But you like that, right? “Trying new things, y’know?”

“...Carmen.” He doesn’t answer, because he can hear he’s in trouble. He is staring at you stare at the tub in what seems like a sort of contemplative, serene, searing anger. “Sweetheart, are those four wagyu filets in a fuckin’ bus tub?”

“Yes, it’s got a blood orange reduction, but– But Syd suggested mint—”

You don’t let him finish, “Is it poison?”

“It’s not.” “It’s edible?” “It is.” “Okay, so then, babydoll, why is it not being eaten?”

Syd winces from the sidelines, hissing under her breath, fist over her mouth. Carmen cannot help but notice. You’re perhaps… a dash upset.

“We can’t eat everything.” “Did you offer it to the crew?” “Yeah—” “You offered it to Nat, Unc, Cheech— All the servers? Or did you just offer it to the cooks?” “...Heard.” “Did you take a bite of all of these?” “Not all.”

You start writing on the glass again, explaining as you do, “Okay. So then uneaten food from R and D should be sold on one of those fuckin’ food waste apps— Too Good to Go, or somethin’. We advertise it to The Beef regulars, try to get the other side of our city to understand the finer things, prevent any brick through window incidents, how we feel ‘bout that?”

You remember small things far too well. You did make note of the rich people shit getting on The Beef customers' nerves. You make note of the people who live on your block, who cannot afford to eat here. You make note of the fact that Carmen resents subtracting with a passion now, so you find another way. He can still try new things, just needs to handle the results better.

“...You keep a binder or somethin?” Is all Carmen can think to ask.

“Steel trap memory.” You tap the cap of the marker to your head, “Good though?”

He nods, “Good.”

“Good.” You take a breath, dragging a hand down your face, practically coming out of a fugue state. Carmen knows your need to have something to do, just as much as him, so he slides the jar of fig marmalade to you from across the table. You take it happily, unscrewing the lid. You’ve also been dying to get to this menu.

But Richie comes up from behind, scratch and sniff wine book in hand— Didn’t Mikey get you that? It was meant to be a gag gift but it’s actually quite useful. “Chip, can you also tell Chef Carmen the daily menu fuckin’ sucks?”

“Re-lax.” You sigh, pulling over all the ingredients and tools you need for Syd’s drink. “Syd told me ‘bout this though, daily pre fixe, or whatever it’s called?”

“It’s—” Carmen crosses his arms over himself, immediately defensive but trying his best not to be. “It’s an idea I’m floating, for now— It’s what the best restaurants do, and— And even if we don’t have full intent on getting a star, right now, it’s still important.”

“I just think…” You hum, trying to figure out the most delicate way to say it. “It doesn’t exactly give you the most room to collaborate or create—”

“The whole point of it is to collaborate and create—”

“Oh yes,” —As if waiting in the wings for this, Richie pops out behind you again, “What wasssit? ‘Vibrant Collaboration’ and ‘Constantly Evolve Through Eating My Own Head like a fucking ouroboros’.”

“Relax.” You hiss this time, putting a hand up in front of Richie. You can speak for yourself. “You don’t have time to be creative or collaborate when you’ve gotta make decisions in less than twelve hours.”

Carmen tries to defend, he gestures to the one good plate of wagyu with mint that came out of this morning, “But the—”

You nod and hum, knowingly. The sweet sound stops him. You already know the answer, but you ask anyway, as you scoop fig marmalade into your cocktail shaker. “Did you get to try the pop rocks thing yet?”

“Well, no, it’s not viable to perfect that in such—”

“A short amount of time, angel?”

“Oooh…” Richie mimics Syd’s movements, air whistling between his teeth as he takes a sharp breath. He gestures, standing behind you, staring at Carmen as he slides his thumb across his neck. He mouths, ‘Mad mad.’

Carmen’s two closest friends are freaking him the fuck out and one of them wasn’t even doing it on purpose. How do they know that? How can they tell that? Are you gonna break up with him? Are you even dating? This work together thing was a terrible idea—

“You don’t have time to be thoughtful about things, if you do an entire menu every day, you’re gonna have to cut corners on what you’re willing to experiment with.” You reword, more productive, better for his brain. “Plus, prix fixe is a fuckin— In—In my opinion, is sort of a lacking idea, maybe, for a new restaurant.”

Carmen’s willing to give up the daily rotation, he’s not so willing to give up the pre fixe. “It’s what the best restaurants do.” Carmen loves the word best, huh?

“Have those restaurants—” You bite your tongue from what was going to be an immediate catty response.

You try again, measuring out orange liqueur and lemon juice as you do so. “You’re thinking like a Chef and you need to think like a customer— A- A guest, for a second.”

Carmen gives you the floor, mostly because he cannot compute the command. You continue, “Let’s do a little roleplay, alright? Let’s say we’re just average people, not workin’ at The Bear, and we’re goin’ on a date.”

“When?” “...When?” “When is the date?” “No, I’m— It’s— This is hypothetical.” “Yeah but in the hypothetical.”

You shrug, clicking tongs together as you grab large chunks of ice for your shaker. “I dunno, Friday nights? We have like a Friday night date night.”

“Oh, so you’re doing good.” Richie hums, proud of this hypothetical you, “Weekly date night is a cornerstone.”

“Moving on.” You elbow Rich behind you, shaker sloshing in hand, “I’m not a foodie, you are— In this hypothetical. You’re looking around at restaurants in the area for the date, you find The Bear— You find through their website with an improper hyperlink that the menu is,” —You list off on your free hand— “prix fixe, unavailable online, and changes daily so you can’t go off of reviews either. Also, it’s a new place, so you can’t really ask around for opinions.”

“Right.” Carmen nods, as does Syd. Uncle Jimmy’s got that stupid smirk he gets when he sees his kids fall in line. You pour the ouzo over the ice, focus on the drink, not Carm’s mopey expression.

“So, we probably wouldn’t go, right?”

Carmen keeps nodding, eyes downcast— Not upset, just can’t take feedback without keeping his head down. “Prob’ly not, yeah.”

You pound the shaker shut, shaking it lightly in one hand as you try as hard as you can to sweetly explain. “People are open to like, two surprises on an outing. New place, new food— But they will need a set menu and they will need to have it available beforehand— And they’ll need to be able to choose.”

He looks like a cat in the rain, so you add, “But. Maybe we can do a daily special? Or weekly, depending on burnout, but like, y’know, a semi-frequent one new thing. And maybe on like, Valentines or some holidays we do a fresh prix fixe. That’s how some of the best places do it.”

Carmen’s eyes upturn, smiling with them, at that last part. “You do keep a binder.”

“Syd does. I just pay attention.” You shake your head. “She mumbled about it all night when we got back.”

Adamu is immediately aghast, she should’ve realized ages ago, you were practically quoting her. “You said you couldn’t hear me!”

“No, I said you weren’t bothering me, and you weren’t.” You can’t hide your smile as you break the seal on the shaker. Syd sucks at sharing her ideas, but you’re happy to act as a good mouth for her good brain. “Hand me a lowball.”

With a grumble, Syd walks off in search of the lowball; while everyone does seem to agree this is best practice, Carmen does still seem a little sore about it.

“It’d probably also serve us well to do a seasonally rotating menu, right?” And so you throw him a bone. “Like Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall? Base it on what’s in season with local vendors?”

“What grows together goes together.” Tina says, nearly sing-songy. “Farmer’s market is rough though, Jeff.”

“Fuck a farmer’s market— With love, fuck a farmer’s market.” Back to writing on plexiglass you go. “We gotta do vendors, maybe f’ like, eggs and dairy we can do farmer’s market, but it’s just not feasible. Maybe for holiday pre fixe or daily specials? But full stock, it’s just not— It’s not it. And I say that while having farm fresh eggs and local honey in my pantry, alright?”

Carmen agrees, like a bobble-head this guy. He nods to Tina. “That cool with you, T?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s cool with me.” Tina is a millisecond off to pipe in, which is really not noticeable– To anyone but you, that is.

“Why’s— Why would T not be good with that?”

“She’s in charge of farmer’s market.”

“Hm.” You bite the end of the dry-erase marker. “T, would you be cool with rotating that, now and again?”

“Ooh?” She tilts her head, shrugging, “Yeah, yeah, kid. If you wanna take the reins.”

“Not me.” You return to scribbling on the glass board. You point at Carmen and Syd through the glass. “Them.”

“I’ve paid my sous chef dues.” Says Syd, returning to the table with your glass. You tut, shaking your head. You refocus your vision from your writing to beyond the plexiglass, at them.

“You need it for inspiration! You fuckers keep forgetting you like cooking, I need you to visit the farmer’s market once in a while to remind you.” You take the lowball glass and tong a few ice cubes in. “Non-negotiable. Heard?”

A soft, simultaneous, “Heard, Chef.” from your cats.

“Good.” You strain the mixed concoction out of the shaker, into the lowball glass. It’s a very pretty peachy pink. You tweezer a slice of dried fig and place it on top. You grab a toothpick, stick it down the glass, pull it out, and taste the toothpick. Balanced, solid flavour, should be good.

You slide the drink over to Syd. “I can’t drink everything obviously, so first dibs goes to whoever the drink is based on— I don’t care who drinks it, just let me know if it goes down smooth.”

You also in turn hand Syd the recipe card and sketch, and you’re quick to move on as she reviews and sips away.

Ouzo. Dry anise tasting spirit. It’s got a licorice aftertaste, but oddly sweeter for it. It’s strong. Resilient. It’s made from remnants of unfermented wine grapes and a mix of other distilled and unused spirits. Better than the sum of its parts. It goes well with figs. Muddle it together with fig marmalade— Sweet yet earthy, spring-like. Orange liqueur to marry the flavours, lemon juice to brighten. Shaken, pour over ice into a lowball, serve with a dried fig on top.

Syd manages to reserve her reaction to a slow but repetitive nod, like entering deep space. She only comes back to reality when Richie reaches for the drink, wanting to try. She’s quick to pull it away from him, coveting the glass.

“Ah… what else? Rapid fire.” You knock your head around, remembering what The Computer talked about, and in quick succession, you line up every problem and talk through them, possibly solve them— As best as a newbie can. At the very least, you open the floor to actual discussions as you make drinks all the while.

“Opening a full sixth day I think will shoot us in the long run, especially if we ever get a kitchen plague going. Maybe we just open for half the day on Mondays going forward, try out breakfast? Stop booing me, I’m right.”

Richie’s. Also served over ice in a lowball. It’s similar to a whiskey smash. Nixing the mint. Whiskey bourbon— A good one, but not too good that it’s a sin to mix. Something with a cinnamon spice, that's warm all the way down, but never burns. Water it down a bit by stirring peach juice over the whiskey with ice for a brief moment. Float blueberry syrup on top. Add a toothpick, spearing two blueberries and one peach halve, balance it over the glass, for stirring. So the drinker can mix the blueberry syrup in and have a cute colour changing experience.

“Wine pours, me and Gary got that. We can also just start charging by the bottle by default— Whatever works.”

Marcus’. Simple but effective. A rum and coke ice cream float. Made complex by the fact that the ice cream is on a rotating schedule, based on whatever Chef Brooks is feeling that night and what’s in stock. Right now? Pistachio. So tonight it’s actually rum and seltzer, and it will probably continue to be rum and seltzer, based on the way Marcus’ eyes light up by the opportunity to get weird. More often than not, you’re going to need that neutral base. Served in a milkshake glass, because what else?

“I don’t understand why I couldn’t just grow these microgreens myself in house. They’re just plants you murder early, are they not? Am I missing something?”

Tina’s. Varied take on a spiked agua fresca. Fresh blended mango agua fresca— With ginger, of course. A healthy kick is a necessity for a mom drink. Sweetened with simple syrup, spiked with white rum, dash of agave bitters, top with coconut water. Served in a tall glass, because why would you skimp on portions?

“Why are we shipping flowers from New York? No, fuck that, go to Violet’s Violets— I fixed her cooler once, she falls in love and gives a discount to literally anyone who’s nice to her. Just send Marcus with some dessert and you’ll be set for life.”

And of course, Carmen’s aperol spritz. You go with the cherry syrup rim for now because it’s important to try. You’re almost certain it’s too much though.

“Napkins…” You rub your icy cold hands— From shaking up so many goddamn drinks— Over your eyes. “Why are we renting?”

“Buying is insanely overpriced.” Answers Computer.

You nod, shrug, but nod, fingers tapping the glass, “Well, it’s like renting over owning right? It might be better to own because, y’know, you might suddenly get told by your napkin vendor, like, like years down the line, after basically paying for these napkins in full through rent, ‘hey, actually, we’re gonna jack up prices or just take those napkins back’ even though you’ve —again— Literally had them for years—”

“Chippy, are you good?” Richie tries to massage your shoulder, tries to break you out of the doom spiral, but admittedly, it was never his forte. Still isn’t.

“We—!” Your voice hangs and is grating in a way it usually isn’t, ignoring the question. “We can produce our own napkins if we buy linens by the yard and hem ‘em ourselves. We—” You snap your fingers a couple times at Carmen, praying he backs you up. “We can even get The Bear monogrammed on them.”

“That sounds nice…” It’s Carmen’s turn to ease you off the ledge of insanity, gently. “It also sounds expensive, were you gonna do that?”

“Fuck no.” You’re quick to shake your head. “I fucking suck at sewing, my own jumpsuit is covered in my blood— No, my—” Oh. “Hold on.”

Your hand immediately goes for your back pocket, quickly pulling your cell-phone out, and dial one of your first starred contacts. Richie, over your shoulder still, sipping his blueberry and bourbon cocktail, excitedly mumbles. “Oh, put it on speaker.”

You’re annoyed before he’s even answered, knowing the headache you’re about to get. “Trust me, the first thirty seconds minimum will not need—”

“Hey!” It’s impossible to convey how earth shatteringly loud and drawn out his voice is, immediately upon answering. There may be eight seconds of the sustained vowel? Maybe more. Almost everyone flinches, par for Syd, Carm, and Rich. Though for all different reasons.

A touch grating, in the same way your voice just was. Like father, like occasional daughter, you suppose. “Hey kiddo baby darling sweetheart angel princess—” Oh, he’s mad. The whole ‘slew of nicknames when you’re pissed off’ thing? Yeah, that didn’t start with you. “Did someone die? Because that’s the only reason my darling baby only daughter calls anymore!”

You sigh, immediately exhausted, putting your weight on one leg. “Y’know, once a month is honestly a lot of times a year for a fully grown woman to call their dad, on average. I absolutely call you more than my friends call their dads.”

Richie almost chokes and whispers over your shoulder, hesitant, internally preparing for a dreadful future. “Please tell me that’s not true.”

“Oh, and you should be so lucky that you have a dad to call! Cause I bet those friends are calling funeral homes, aren’t they?!”

“Dad—”

“I should have never taught you independence. Worst mistake of my life to teach you how to be your own person. Richard, never teach your kid how to use a screwdriver, it will be the last day you are a father.”

“Noted, Big C-K.” Richie goes for your dry erase to actually write it down, you pull it away from him. That’s gonna require a long talk down later.

Carmen mouths to you, across the table, he meant to ask earlier when Cicero said it but there wasn’t time. ‘C-K?’

You mouth back, gesturing to the logo on your very own flannel ‘Chicago’s Kindest.’ He’s not the best with acronyms.

“Oh— And thank you for bringing that up! And what’s this I hear about you cutting your hours with C-K? I hear this from Tony of all people ‘fore I hear it from you?”

“I got a long-term bartender gig that’s actually gonna keep my bills paid, alright? And I like it. Putting that mixology double trade major to good use. Cicero’s got stock in the place, actually.”

“How you doin’ C-K?” Cicero pipes in next to you, waiting for his moment.

“Ah… I’ve got my complaints. For one, my Jack keeps you more company than me!”

There’s a series of hums and haws, that weird uncle secret language of heavy exhales that manage to say more than any actual words they could say.

You let the heaving run its course for ten seconds before cutting it short with, “Anyways, I’m still gonna keep the business running, just only in the mornings. It’s not like I brought in that much business anyway, I’m not pulling a foundation.”

“Everytime a small business dies, a rich man laughs, Jack!”

“It’s not dying! It’s alive! It’s present and alive!” Don’t get flashbacks. “Anyways, speaking of small businesses, I need a favour—”

“Ooh, the truth comes out, princess calls cause she needs bail—”

“For the love of God, let me get through a sentence, Pops!” You grumble, continuing. “Remember that overpriced monogram machine you bought for no reason?”

“It was not for no reason, it was invaluable because it saved my mitts from hand embroidering all those logos— And and— you have to remember—” You mouth the words along with him, mimicking him, because you know exactly what he’s going to say, “that it all starts in your community— And now you have like eight beautiful outfits, cause of me… And also it’s fun.”

“Well… If it’s fun, would you consider making some linen napkins?”

And it flows like ping pong, because your dad is a repairman— Well, former, but still. He’s simple. He handles negotiations simple. So do you.

“For who?” “Restaurant. The Bear.” “Why?” “Cause they need linen napkins.” “How many?”

You look over your shoulder to Richie, he does the math in his head pretty quickly, “Bout seventy to a hundred covers a night.”

“Six hundred.” “Pay?” “We’ll pay supplies, and I’ll give you like—” You look to Syd, expectantly. She has no answer, so you put your advanced on the line. “A thousand?”

“A thousand!? Less than a dollar a napkin! Is this pre-housing crisis?!” “I work here, okay?! Discount me!” “My God, princess, are you in love with the owner or something?”

That world feels like it's choking, but that's probably just you. You blow hot air out of your mouth, looking anywhere but Carmen. Refusing to see him even in your periphery. Refusing to see his blue screened but ever so slightly expectant expression. Well? Are you? …Or something?

After a long moment, you find a way to avoid the question. “Ah–Uh, Syd co-owns the place.”

“Oh, Adamu?!”

Syd pipes in, leaning over the table. You hold the phone out for her. “H–Hey, Mr. CK.” She waves, despite the fact that it’s a phone call.

“Hey kiddo. Aw, what a sweetheart. Lead with her next time!”

“Alright!” You bring the phone back to your face— It’s remained off speakerphone this entire time, but he continues to yell loud enough for the table. “I didn’t realize you were best friends.”

“Of course we are. Y’know she brought me this uh– this salmon mushroom risotto the other night? Unbelievable.”

You squint at Adamu curiously, whispering. “You bring my dad food?”

She whispers in return, defensive. “He lives on my block, don’t be weird.”

“For her, I’ll do it for eight-hundred, okay kiddo? I know how tough it is to start up a business, can’t imagine trying to move on top of that.”

Your turn to blue screen. Moving? You’re immediately over the love thing. “...Pardon?”

“...I’ll do it for eight—”

“No– Yes, sorry, yes dad that’s great—” You arch the phone away from your face, focusing your attention on Syd. “Syd, you’re moving out?”

She sighs, “Trying to.”

“Pops.” You straighten up, not looking away from her. “I’ll call you back to sort details later, okay?”

“Sure. You also need to let me know holiday plans, are we going up to Oak Park or—”

Somewhat disrespectfully, you speak hurriedly, “Yeah, we’ll figure it out, love you, bye!” and hang up. Still locked on Syd, you ask. “When you tryna move?”

“Like, soon as possible.” She stretches out her shoulders. “My own dad is sort of… Encroaching on my space.”

“Right.” Your eyes flicker with too many ideas, and you’re trying to temper expectations. “You wanna live by yourself?”

“I mean, I don’t really know anyone on the same timeline as me, with the same ‘low budget’ as me.”

The Computer attempts to interrupt the interruption of his review, holding a finger up, “And why are we talking about—”

But you hold the palm of your hand up, continuing on, “I need to move out asap and have a ‘low budget’.”

That’s Carmen’s queue to chime in, he loves your place. “What happened?”

Also Richie’s, “What? Chip, your spot’s like a historical site, ya can’t move.” and this is generally agreed upon by a sea of dismayed voices.

“To make an extremely long story short, I don’t have a choice.” You wave your hand in the air, silencing murmurs. “My sweet old lady landlord— The only landlord I’ve ever respected, got bought out by a fuckin’ big business gentrification ass company— I’m not in a rent controlled zone so they’re gonna keep jacking the rent until I move out so they can tear it down and build a new spot— They also may or may not have found out that me and Loretta— My landlord— Haven’t exactly been keeping up to date on my lease.”

“Meaning?” Carmen knows the answer will be bad.

But it’s somehow worse. “Meaning I pay my rent on time in cash and she texts me once a year saying ‘do you want to keep living here?’ and I say ‘yes’, and we continue on.”

“Well, hold up—” Richie holds a hand up, like he’s a genius. “Squatter’s rights?”

“I thought about going that avenue, but—” You gesture to Syd. “If you’re already moving, and looking for a roommate?”

She looks up and around, thinking about it. You decide to join her in the brainstorm, scooching yourself just an inch to the right, writing on free space on the plexiglass screen, ‘pros and cons’

“Pro.” You murmur as you write. “I have a better credit score than you.”

Syd sputters, half sarcastic. “Well, that’s just uncalled for.”

“It’ll give you more options for places! Better ones! Ones with in-unit laundry!” You defend.

“In-unit laundry…” “Your eyes just lit up in such a sad way.” “Con. You are an ass.”

“That’s a pro. A real con would be that I have a lot of plants and if I ever go on vacation I’m gonna need you to take care of them, and I’m not gonna have a binder for you, because I water them based on vibes, and if I come back and they’re dying I’m gonna be pissed off and very passive aggressive about it.”

“Violently honest.” “Pro. Mostly direct. Aside from when I’m not.” “Con. I’m not direct.”

“Con. That’s fine but if I get the idea that you’re mad at me I’m gonna act really weird about it until you reassure me that everything is okay and you don’t want to throw me out the window.”

“Yeah. Con. Same.”

“Pro. I’ve lived by myself for a while, which is good to have when you’re moving out of your parents for the first time. Con. I’ve lived by myself for a while, and I’m very used to the lifestyle of big t-shirt no pants, I’m not giving that up.”

Now that one takes Syd a second to unpack, “But, but like, underwear though, right—?”

“No shit I wear underwear!”

“Okay! It’s important to note!”

“Don’t be weird.” Richie grumbles behind you, solidly directed at Carmen.

Who’s whole face really just scrunches up in confusion. “‘Don’t be weird’? You don’t be weird.”

“I’m not bein’ fuckin’ weird—” “Then why are you up in my shit—” “Up in your shit? Oh wow—” “Fully not what I was referencing—” “Don’t be weird, cousin!” “I literally— I did not even move— Not a single cell in my body—” “And— And you only know that ‘cause you had to lock it down, you dog—”

“I don’t remember having kids, why the fuck am I in a Kindergarden?” Uncle Jimmy interrupts.

“I’m just takin’ care of my boy, Unc.” Richie raises a hand in defense, feigning innocence. “Can’t be too careful.”

“You super can, and you super are.” You grimace, elbowing him again. “And also, not important–!”

“Actually, no, very important.” Syd of all people interrupts. “Non-negotiable, like you can’t— …Like you— …When I’m home it’s like— Don’t—” Ah.

You roll your eyes and save her before she just about breaks out in a feverish sweat. “Syd, I wasn’t planning on it. That’s like roommate rule one.”

“Syd.” Richie points to his own eyes, then to hers, ‘watching you’. “Don’t be weird.”

“What the fuck—”

“Everyone shut up, pros and cons—!” You shout, gaining the attention back. “Pros. I have a car, we work at the same place, I have all the furniture for a living room already, you'd never have to wait for a landlord to fix something ever again, and I could probably do a bunch of D-I-Y renter friendly projects, if you wanted.”

“...Oh my god, a French-door pantry.” “I think I could swing that.” “Pros. You’ll never have to cook again. I guess that’s my only pro, actually.”

“Con. I have been feeding the cat on my fire escape for like a year and if I’m moving I am going to have to adopt her, so we’re gonna have a cat. She’s cute, she has five toes on each paw. Something dactyl, it’s called.”

“What’s her name?” Squid’s not excited per se, but she’s not saying no.

You shrug. “I never named her, let’s name her together.”

“No, that’s too much pressure—” “No, you’ll do great—” “What do you mean I’ll do great—?” “Three–” “Oh like together together? No! What—?!” “Shut up, just do it, head empty, two—” “No! I’m just not gonna say any—” “Yes you will, Squid. One!”

And together, perfectly in sync, like it was planned all along, you both say on queue, “Calamari!”

“There we go.” You write ‘Calamari’ on the plexiglass. “That’s my girl— That’s our girl, actually. I’m still not sure if she’s a girl.”

You click your tongue against your teeth, knocking your head back and forth in thought as you look at the scribblings on the glass. “Non-negotiables?”

Syd leans forward on the table, chin propped up in her hands. “I need forty-five minutes of bathroom time at the beginning of the day.”

“...Do you have a fuckin’ lactose intolerance?” “It’s my me time!” “Alright! Fuckin’ fifty minutes of toilet time for Syd. Ah, I need east facing windows… and uhm…”

Syd stares at you, and alas, she can tell, “You have a big non-negotiable…”

“It’s not that big… It’s more a group thing than a roommate thing, really…” “What is it?” “I think… It would be fun… If we all started playing Dungeons and Drag—”

There’s an immediate, staggeringly loud array of groans, you’re still writing it down nonetheless, all the while defending, “I honestly think a little roleplay and math would fix you assholes! I really think it would! I’ll D-M, I’ll make it so easy— Please?”

Syd grimaces, but inevitably nods. “Y’know what, you’re never gonna get a concrete schedule for that down, and no one else is gonna agree so yes, sure from me.” Still a win.

“Okay.” You hum, capping the marker. “So… Aim to move first of February? You down?”

It takes some time, and you realize as Syd’s brain frozen, that you might be overstepping. “Sorry, that’s going too fast, you think on it—”

“...I’m down.” You make it very easy for her to say yes, by giving her the option to say no. “Yeah, let’s do it. February. I’m down.”

“I’m so happy for you two, but I’m still fuckin’ reeling— Chippy, it’s– it’s— So many memories—” Richie’s being overly dramatic on purpose, hand on your shoulder, really laying on the vocal fry in his voice; but it is true. “I mean, come on, first time I’d ever been stabbed was on your block.”

“Sorry, what?” Carmen was having fun watching his two favourite employees figure out they’d be perfect roommates. He loves to be a fly on walls around you more than he’d like to admit. Richie managed to ruin it with one line. “Stabbed on your block?”

“Yeah,” You suck the air between your teeth, trying to think of some sort of white lie, but slowly shake your head, “I— Yeah, there’s no real way for me to down play it, I was so fuckin’ scared.”

“You were tweaking!” Richie laughs, clapping his hand against your shoulder, to him it’s a charming story— You’d probably be laughing too, if Carmen didn’t seem so… unpleased, let’s say. “You fuckin’ thought I was gonna die!”

“You fucking were!” You slap Rich’s hand away. “It was so close to a cerebral artery— First and last time I’ll administer stitches in my fucking kitchen, hand to God—”

“What’s the story?” Oh, new face from Carmen you haven’t seen before, bewildered annoyance, you’d describe it as, it’s going in your bottom five. “You live in a bad neighbourhood?”

“It’s rustic—” You try, but Richie opts to speak on your behalf. “Oh, Chip lives in a terrible neighbourhood, Cousin. You’ve been there, haven’t you?”

“Yeah but it didn’t seem that bad— No— Hold on, go back, stabbed why?”

“So I heroically defended a boy from crooked—” Richie tries, but you opt to speak on his behalf. “Richie was helping me bring up groceries, we saw some highschoolers shaking a kid down, Richie tried to break it up, one of ‘em stabbed him with one of those shitty switchblade comb things.”

“You got stabbed by a kid?” Syd snorts, but immediately regrets it because she has perfectly set him up for—

“Yeah, and wouldn’t be the last time, would it?”

“Richie, c’mon…” You reach up, patting the guy’s shoulder. “It was an accident and she apologized—”

Richie just raises his eyebrows, interrupting with a simple, “Mm-mm.”

And so yours raise in tow, “...Fuck you mean ‘mm-mm’?” And your head turns to Syd, alarmed. “Syd, you apologized, right?”

Her mouth just sort of hangs, sputtering noises do come out of it, but nothing that strings a sentence together. You grow more agog, repeating again, astonished, nearly laughing from the shock, “Syd?! You apologized, right?! And told him it was an accident, right?”

Syd takes a beat, but she gets there. “I— I. Am. Sorry I stabbed you by accident, Richie.”

“Hm.” Richie crosses his arms, considering, mostly sarcastically. “Yeah, I’ll take it, I guess. Would’ve liked a card.”

“I am not getting you a card.” “I’m jus’ sayin’ I’d’ve liked one.”

Carmen’s still five steps behind, “Are you gonna be fine living there? In January?”

You choke back a laugh, because this is how men try to show they care, one must imagine. “I’ve been fine for the past handful of years living there, I think I’ll be fine for another month, sweetheart.”

“Crime is bad in January.”

“I was a first responder, and I know that’s not true.” You shake your head, shirking off laughter. “It’s actually in the summer that you see shit go down. Again, I will be fine. But you are free to visit.”

“Point of order.” The Computer finally pipes up again— Might’ve forgot he was here, if you’re honest. “What are we talking about anymore?”

“Point of order— I feel like numbers— Talking numbers is great but it’s all just like— Paper, y’know?” You unlatch the plexiglass, gently settling it back down on the table. “We should be talking more.”

Tina nearly whistles in agreement, nodding by your side. “Heavy that, Jeff.”

“That’s what I’m sayin’, like—” You snap your fingers to the rest of the crew, hand moving to and fro to point at everyone, “Did y’all know until right now that Syd was moving? …No, right? Let’s like— Fuckin’ remember to check in, like y’know, family, Chefs.”

And without calling her out, you can feel Tina’s demeanor next to you change, relaxed.

“Heard, Chef.” Is the agreement from the crew, however, The Computer nor Cicero seem convinced, so with a sigh, you put on your most authoritative voice.

“Y’know. Three Cs! Caring cuts costs!” A phrase no one has ever said, but it sounds legitimate when you put it like that. That gets them to acquiesce.

Thank God, Marcus helps you move the conversation along, “...What’s everyone doing for the holidays?” Alas for both of you, the silence is deafening. “...Or not.”

You volley back for him, “If no one has hard plans I was thinking of having a lil’ Holiday party? Nothing big. Sort of a ‘goodbye old apartment’ party? Come by after you hang out with your families or whatever?”

“Not gonna go up to Oak Park?” Rich leans one arm on your shoulder, nursing his whiskey cocktail in the other.

“Meh.” You shrug, attempting to push him off you, but he doubles down. “We’re not so intense about holidays since everyone’s aged. I’ll visit my nephew on New Years.”

“I’m doin’ Eve with Eva, but I’ll be free on the day. I’ll come by. We doin’ gifts?”

“I mean I got you something, so,” You tap the bottom of his glass as Rich takes another sip, making him flinch. “Catch the fuck up.”

Syd pipes in, sniffing. “Me and my dad only celebrate on Christmas Eve now, so I’ll come.”

“Incredible. Two down.” You gesture to Marcus and Tina across the table. “You guys? Tina I assume you’ve got a loving family and shit?”

Tina smiles and nods, rightfully proud. “I do have a loving family and shit, but maybe I’ll come by late with them too?”

And Marcus tacks on with her, “I’m gonna be with my mom most of the night, but I’ll come through for a couple hours.”

“Perfect, perfect. Invites open to any plus ones as long as you text me first!” You hum, writing names down on the glass board. It’s kind of a nightmare of different lists at this point. “Richie, can you make sure Fak and Sweeps get the invite?”

“Yessir.”

“And us!?” Shrieks Cheech in the back, who really shouldn’t be able to hear you, he should be in the zone, slinging sandwiches.

You yell back without turning to him. “Yes, fucker, you and E can come, if you want! No fuckin’ plus one for you though!”

“Oh come the fuck on, Jack-Off!”

“Oh, make me a fuckin’ sandwich, big man!”

“Oh, I’ll make you a fuckin’ sandwich!”

“Oh, my dick!” A response that makes no sense, consistently the perfect bookend. You sigh, and finally, your eyes flit to the most terrified two in the room. “Berzattos… Holiday plans?”

“I think we’re gonna do dinner on Christmas Eve, and then the morning together? Well, I am.” Sug hesitates, she’s looking between Uncle Jimmy and Carmen. “I was gonna ask what Carm’s plan is…”

“I’ll go. I’ll go.” Carmen has to stop himself from biting the skin off the tips of his fingers. “I’ll go. And I’ll come to the party, after.”

“I’ll probably just go home with Pete after. Baby’s first Christmas, y’know.” Natalie hums and nods awkwardly. There’s a question both of them want to ask. Neither of them are brave enough to ask it. And while you can sense there’s something dancing in the air, you’re not going to overstep on this front.

“Mazel. I can buy silly decor with reason now. …Now let’s talk about the important grievances.” You hum, happy to end that chapter.

You turn just slightly to gently slap Richie’s cheek as he stands next to you. “Rich, you need to line your beard up, this neckbeard shit is pissing me off—”

“What’s with the fuckin’ drive by?!” “It’s been on my mind forever— You can’t be wearin’ suits and then be rockin’ that unkempt shit, clean up—” “I’m clean! I’m fucking clean!” “Who said? Who fuckin’ said? Cause I sure didn’t!” “How’m I s’posed to be linin’ my shit up every mornin’—” “You do not grow a beard that fast—” “Oh fuck you, I’m not fuckin’ Carmen, I grow a fuckin’ beard.”

Carmen’s just surprised to hear his name out of any name come up. “What– Now that’s a fucking drive by, what the fuck?”

“If we’re voicing grievances, I’d like to voice my fuckin’ complaint with Captain Crash-Out over here—” “Who the fuck is sublimating now?” “You’re not usin’ that term correctly, cause you’re not integrated—” “I thought you two worked this out on the road trip!” “We did!”

You only half regret starting this feud with the beard comment— To be fair, you’re right. “This is it working?”

“This is, in fact, it working.” Syd confirms plainly, her disappointment more than apparent. Rubbing the tips of her fingers to her temples. The fight is out of her, at this point.

“Alright.” You slap your hands together. “Richie, what is your complaint?” Are you just union rep now? You might be a union rep now.

“Carmen is fucking killing me.” The cocktail swishes and nearly spills as Richie points at the Chef, emphatic. “He won’t change shit for guests!”

“No substitutions!” It’s almost cultish, the way Sydney and Carmen yell it out together.

Richie scoffs, head reeling back. “What happened to it bein’ about hospitality?”

“I mean…” You suck air through your teeth, squinting. “If we’re sayin’ no substitutions, it’s no substitutions— Unless it’s like an allergy or sensory thing— But even then, it shouldn’t be like a major component getting replaced.”

“See? See?” It’s almost maniacal, rabid, how delighted Carmen is that you’re on his side. “Fuckin’ thank you. This is why I lo—”

Before Carmen can finish his sentence, Richie flails about to suddenly throw the peach and blueberry skewer from his drink at Carmen— Not the pointed side, he doesn’t want to stab the guy. Just wants to save him from running his mouth. The peach slice hits Carm’s chest as Richie stutters out, “F-Fuck you, fuck you, fine. No substitutions— What the fuck am I supposed to say then?” speaking over whatever syllables fell out of Carmen’s mouth, muddling them.

You cock your brow, but Carmen seems to quickly let the childish toss go, more than eager to move on. So you do too. “...Say some bullshit like, like, The Bear encourages —uhm— explorative culinary experiences where you let your taste buds go beyond your limitations and comforts— So eat a fuckin’ mushroom, you’re not gonna die.”

“If they don’t like mushrooms—” “Then they shouldn’t order it!” “How hard is it to just fuckin’ switch it out!?” “So hard! So hard! I think! I could guess!”

“I could do it.”

“Could you?” You cross your arms, leaning your weight onto one leg, pivoting to Richie. “Okay, roleplay, you’re Carmen, I’m you—” Just as Richie opens his mouth, you hold your index finger to his lips. “I know you wanna be a bitch, I’m askin’ you to just skip that part for me.”

His shit eating grin is only a little endearing. “How am I supposed to be in character if I’m not allowed to be a bitch?”

You clench and unclench your hands in the air, but let it go, opting to move on to your little thought experiment. “Chef, patient—” Instincts never give out, huh? “Christ, patron doesn’t want mushrooms in their anolini, I need you to sub it.”

“Ah, well I’m happy to do that for you, Host Richie, I—” He’s going to go into some scathing spiel, and you love the guy, but you have to rub dirt in the wound for the lesson to stick.

You speak over him, voice stern, “Chef. In order to keep pace, I need you to make this call in fifteen seconds, what are you subbing it for?”

Richie’s head shakes back and forth as he scrambles to get his brain to work.“Fuckin— Fucking– Eggplant.”

“Eggplant?” You ask politely, tone unsure. Carmen asks it with you, tone ridiculing.

“It’s a sauce isn’t it?” You squint, turning your head to the actual Carmen. “It’s like a really thick mushroom sauce stuffed pasta?”

He tilts his head from side to side, but nods. In gist, yes. “It’s a ragout. Low and slow cooked stew—” Carmy’s ready to rave about it and teach you every facet of the dish, but perhaps that’s too romantic for a public setting. God, he’s weird about love. “We keep it going on our back burners all day— It takes an hour minimum to make from scratch, you can’t just sub it.”

“Yeah, well…” Richie stops himself short of getting snarky for no reason all over again, taking a second to think about it. “Well, I didn’t know that. You didn’t explain that shit to me.”

“I don’t have time to hold your fuckin’ hand—” Carmen stops short of getting catty when you give him a very soft and yet gutting disappointed look. He pinches the bridge of his nose, sniffing. “I can’t explain why I do everythin’ I do when I’m— When we’re in a middle of a rush, I just need you to trust when kitchen says we can’t do it. Trust that I thought it through.��

Richie has to control himself, has to make sure the corners of his mouth don’t upturn just slightly, has to make sure it’s not clear that he is overjoyed that there’s finally middle ground, can’t get his hopes up. He nods. “I just wanna make everyone happy, y’know?”

“I know. You’re—” Carmen’s nose scrunches up for a second, God, he’s never had to say that he think’s Richie’s good to his face. And he’s not gonna start now, “Eggplant would be a good sub, if we had time.”

Richie prods his tongue along the side of his cheek, thinking. “Maybe I could look into knowin’ restrictions faster and estimatin’ their orders, so you can have ‘em on deck?”

And Carmen does think that’d be a waste of time, but he’s learning. He hears it out. “Could give it a shot, yeah.”

“Same team.” Richie reaches across the counter, and Carmen actually takes his hand, a quick dap. Civil.

“Same team.” First time you’ve heard Carmen adopt your idiom; you can’t help but smile, though you’re trying to hide it. You’re too focused on arguably the two most important men in your life to notice the silent conversation Uncle Jimmy is having with The Computer, speaking solely through nods and exchanged glances.

Pay is for Chip. Cicero nods, and The Computer nods back. He gets it now. Pay is for Chip. Not just the mixologist, not just the sommelier, not just the repairman, not just the not-quite girlfriend, Chip. You’re Chip. You’re the cog, the piece. The grease between everyone.

You’re the guy. Always have been, always will be.

The silent conversation and the warm feeling in the room is cut short though, by The Computer. “Can she deal with the butter thing?”

“What the fuck is the butter thing?” You immediately jump onto the case, when Carmen looks down and away from you, you frown, leaning in. “What’s the butter thing?”

Jimmy snaps his fingers at The Computer, he hands him an invoice, which is then handed off to you. Old Major Farms, Orwellian Butter, salted and unsalted. $11,268. You just. Stare. The math comes all too easy to your head. Worth a week?

“It’s the best.” Carmen repeats as your eyes remain worryingly unblinking. “It’s—”

“Carm.” Syd all but hisses, shaking her head in tight swivels, waving her hand around her neck for him to cut it. “Making it worse.”

“Angel is like, the worst it can get.” Hums Richie. Recalling your barometer of anger. Recalling the times when Mikey would say ‘what’s the point of paying bills?’ And you’d have to pull him aside. “Can’t get much lower than that besides—”

“Light of my life.” You look up from the paper in your hand, and both Richie and Sydney wince. Your voice is terrifyingly delicate as you nod over to the room behind you. “Apple of my eye. Can I speak to you in your office, please?”

Carmy’d like to say no. “...Yeah.” But you already started walking before he even answered, so there’s not much of a choice here. You head in by yourself, and thankfully, the door closes behind you, so Carmen’s got a second before he gets devoured.

He walks around the counter, and as he nears the door, Richie grabs his arm. He whispers as he hands Carmen what’s left of his cocktail. “You need to lock the fuck in.”

“I know.” Carm returns, shooting down all that’s left of the lowball. Why’s Richie’s the sweet one? Why’d Carmen get the cough syrup drink? That’s not fair. Do you not think he’s sweet? “Thank you for the— Intercept.”

Richie nods, he’s been unwillingly playing quarterback for Carmen since going to Rockefeller and seeing that goddamn giant tree and Carmen couldn’t stop opening his big fucking mouth after seeing you under the star. “Just think with your brain, not your—”

“Don’t.” “Was gonna say heart.” “Sure.” “Don’t be weird.”

“I know it’s expensive.” Carmen gets it out before even fully closing the door behind him, “But it’s normal prices, for high-end restaurants. I know it’s different—” He stops short when he finally turns around from the closed door, to see you, holding your painting.

It’s facing you, you’re reviewing it in your hands where you sit in the office chair; the brown wrapping paper freshly ripped and on the floor. Carmen still doesn’t know what’s on the piece.

“Carm.” You twist the piece around in your hand, turning it to him. He can see the nine squares. The Beef to The Bear. Mikey. “This is not another restaurant.”

Carmen continues to stare, silently, though he takes a step closer, reaching a hand out to graze over the canvas. You keep going, clarifying. “We’re not just another high-end restaurant. We’re us. And so we should be doing things like us. We’re the best, we don’t need the stuff to be.”

He was with you until that last part. His pursed lips say as much.

“It’s—” You smack your lips together, haphazardly handing him the canvas, he’s very quick to grab it with both hands, not wanting it unstable for a second. “Hold on, let me show you somethin’ — I think I left one in here.”

You roll the office chair back a bit, sinking down in the seat to reach far behind a tall cabinet; you have to pad your hand around in the dark nook for quite some time before you pull out— A screwdriver. An oddly shaped one, at that.

“...Has that been here the whole time?”

You nod. “Like threeish years at least, I think I threw it back there while telling it’s origin story. It’s part of the first set I ever got.” You grip the flat wooden handle. “It’s the worst screwdriver on earth, like, by far.”

That gets a little chuckle out of Carmen. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You look up from it to him. “It’s a handmade set. Dad’s dad made it.” You awkwardly roll closer to him, he leans over, head next to your head as you both look down at it. “It’s got a flat wooden handle, made of poplar— So not only is it fucking impossible to get a good grip on, it’s also so fucking slippery. It’s part of a whole set, passed down from my grandpa to my dad to me.”

“Sounds fucked.”

“It is.” You laugh, and so does he. “It’s purposefully meant to piss you off.” You rub your thumb over the dent marks in the wood— All from the times you threw it at something— Including the very cabinet that it hid behind. “You ever wonder why I took over the handyman gig, bein’ the youngest and all?”

Carmy shrugs, glancing from the screwdriver to you. “Just assumed you were the best.”

That gets another laugh out of you, and Carmen’s overjoyed by the sound. “Yeah, I’m probably the best. But that’s only cause I kept up with it.”

You turn your head up to face Carmen again as you explain, “When our dad started bringing us to jobs as kids, he would make us exclusively use this set of screwdrivers— Sort of as a secret test. My brothers would get pissed off, as planned, and they’d quit and cry. And I dunno, I guess I’d cry and keep going? And I learned a couple tricks, eventually.”

“Tricks?”

“Like.” You pull back in the chair and run your hand across the office desk. The corners of it are screwed into the metal cabinet below it. “It’s really good if you’re screwing from the top down.” Using it as an example, you start to unscrew it. “It’s balanced. And it’s really all in the grip— Always loosen your grip with this one. Even if that seems counterintuitive.”

You get it to unscrew just fine with your loosened grip. “But if that doesn’t work, and you just can’t get it to work—” You lift the screwdriver in front of his face, showing off the sides of the handle. He smirks at the— “Just make your own grooves, it’ll be easier to hold.” Tiny teeth marks.

“Carm.” You tap the handle to his nose as he zones in too much on it. “I’m the best repairman because I can work with anything. You’re the best Chef because you can work with anything. You don’t need the best when you’re the best.”

He’s the best?

He’s the best.

“I truly think you could make just as good a plate with Becel as this fucking Animal Farm butter.”

Carmen’s the best. You think he’s the best.

He’s gotta think with his head and not with his heart and not with anything else, either. Lock the fuck in, Carmen.

“I dunno bout all that.” He shrugs, bashful and attempting to hide it, trying to shake the praise off his back.

“Well I know ‘bout that.” You shrug back, “I’m actually kind of a genius, when it comes to knowing who’s good and who’s not.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Carmy hums, and the sound is sweet without reservations. “...Painting is very good.” He nods to himself, on repeat, like a bobblehead. “Or I guess it’s less a painting and more a buncha photo transfers?”

“Yeah.” You set the screwdriver aside on the desk. “Most of them I took.”

“They’re good. It’s—” He pauses, tongue against his teeth. “It’s nice to see evidence he kept up, or somethin’.”

You nod, seeing Carmen’s brain struggle to keep pace in real time. “We took that one I think the day we talked to Uncle Jimmy about The Bear? Had to print out articles as proof we could make it work— Or, that you could make it work, rather.”

Carmen sniffs, crossing his arms, hands in tight fists— Probably too tight— where they hide. “Yeah, kinda fuckin’ up my end of the bargain, hm?” The light laugh that follows is hollow.

“Eh. You both did.” You smile, though it’s hesitant. “ But at least you’re still here fixing it.”

Still here. Still fixing it. That is in essence, the piece. Carmen gets lost staring at the squares, so you speak as he does. “I was trying to like. I dunno, replicate your brain.” He can see it. The messy yet coherent, controlled yet chaos. The love. The grief. The progress. The home. You see him. He can see that you see him.

“11k for butter,” Carm’s head doesn’t move but his eyes raise to you. “Is a week. More than a week.”

Ah. Carmen can see you too, see your thought process. The Ascaso, worth one of the worst weeks of Mikey’s life. The fucking butter. Worth more than a week of Mikey’s sobriety.

All you can do is nod solemnly. “It is, yeah.”

He nods back, tongue prodding his cheek. “That’s too much.”

“I’d agree.”

“I’ll switch to local.” You make it easy for him to fix his mistakes, by giving him the space to realize them.

“I think that’s the right call.” You nod, smiling. After a moment, you reach for Carmen to uncross his arms, and when he does, you take his fist and uncurl it— Your hand is a very soothing balm to the spots where he dug his nails into his own hand.

“Loosen your grip, Carmy.”

And so, he does. With a laugh and a look to high heaven, he loosens his grip. Really loosens his grip. Well— Not completely, he’s not going to say that, but he will say something that is just nearly as difficult but not quite. He'll bite down a little. He’ll make the grooves, for now, until his grip is good enough.

“Come to dinner with us?”

would you believe me if i said I had to rewrite a bit of this last scene because intially it went so rom-com and I was so disgusted when I reread it in the morning I had to stare at it in the subway ride to work like "what the fuck am I gonna do"

was this chapter good? God I hope so. I felt like with where we're going, it was kinda necessary to do Chip's onboard, set the stage for what work is like for her. I had to loosen my own grip with this one lmao. just allow myself to be a LITTLE messy. if it's bad, lie to me. tell me sweet little lies peach

DAD REVEAL THOUGH EH? MR CK!!! So much did happen this chapter. Chips on board! Squid Ink moving in together era commences! Christmas party!! Also. Would you believe me if I told you no shit syd was gonna move, she was planning it in S2, but I was planning this whole time for Ink to get evicted!! I want those fuckers to be roommates STAT!!!

anyways, i really hope i remembered to write down everyone that asked to be added to the taglist, i might've not. i'm very sorry if i didnt

oh also if you wanna be added!! send in your thoughts!! words for words baby, essay for essay cmonnn gimme ur character analysis!! (oh and also ask to be added, ofc)

@hoetel-manager , @fridavacado @sharkluver , @spectacular-skywalker , @silas-aeiou , @deadofnight0 , @sunbreathingstuff , @anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @blueaproncarmy @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin @ashtonweon @mrs-perfectly-fine @thefreakingbear @anytim3youwant

#carmen berzatto #the bear fanfiction #the bear x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear #the bear x you #carmen x reader #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen x oc #carmy berzatto

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jinogasux-fr · 1 month ago

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Santae banned me without telling me why and won't unban me unless I send them my photo ID

Hey guys sorry for not posting in… forever? I just suck at social media lol. But you may have seen that I've reblogged some posts that advertise Santae in the past, but please disregard all that. I've since deleted those posts after learning how the site is managed and, after what happened to me a few days ago, I feel as though I should go public about this. Because boy did I just get fucked over.

Anyway, yeah, what it says in the title. On October 24th, around 10am EST, I was restocking my user shop when the entire webpage went white. I couldn't access the site at all and, when I tried to look for the Discord on my server list, it wasn't there. I knew what this had meant. I got banned from both the game, and the Discord - this is important to keep in mind for later.

I didn't receive any Discord DM or email notification about my ban, so after asking a mod what their support email was (and yes, I later verified that this is indeed their legitimate support email), I sent them this:

After a few hours, I get this back in response:

There's so much I'm confused about here. I think the one that screams out the most is that they're asking me to show them my photo ID so I can get unbanned. Absolutely not. I refuse to do this. This poses a massive security and privacy risk. They straight up banned my account, gave this half-baked explanation, and told me I need to send my personal information or... I stay banned?

Let me make something clear: The only personal thing they have on file about this account is the email address that I created my account with, which I've also used to contact them. My real name, date of birth, anything of that nature would not be connected because this was not asked for during account creation, therefore this wouldn't actually prove I'm the account holder. Theoretically speaking, I could show them any ID in the world and for all they know, that's my real information, because they have nothing else to go off of. They even say as much in their privacy page.

Secondly, "account has been compromised"? What does that mean? I think anyone's interpretation of this would be that my account got hacked. But if my account got hacked, why wasn't I informed of this? I had to reach out to support, they did not reach out to me first. That means my password, which I may share across other sites, would have been known to someone else and thus I should've been warned of this immediately, not roughly 5 hours after the fact.

Thirdly, what, was my Discord "compromised" too? If an automated system had flagged my account, does that system somehow interact with a Discord bot so they ban a user on both at the same time? How does that work? That makes no sense as to why they'd ban me on both the game and the Discord for something like this, which is why I'm calling bullshit.

Let me tell you what I think happened.

Recently, Santae has been in some really hot water with connections revealing their relation to an older petsite, Lurapets, which has a history of scamming and artist mistreatment, as well as proof coming out of them using AI art for their NPC art. You can find these posts on the @santae-salt blog if you want to see for yourself, but I'm also linking them throughout this post.

Once the post about them being directly related to Lurapets was released, several users that the Santae staff thought might be involved in the creation of the post got banned. As it turns out, I was banned at the same time as these users.

After speaking with the @santae-salt admin, we are both of the belief that I, a regular user, got caught up in this mess because they're assuming I'm an alt account of someone else and staff demanded to see my ID because they didn't think I was a different person. It may turn out to be wrong, and yeah that sounds a bit far-fetched, sure, but really, what else can I go off of here?? Santae staff has given me a very questionable and refutable explanation as to why I've been banned, and their radio silence after I refused to send them my ID is just making me believe they don't think I'm real. They don't want my photo ID to verify I'm the account holder, they want my photo ID to verify I'm not someone else.

This is unprecedented. I've never seen any petsite ask for a photo ID in any situation, and after asking around, not even those banned from Santae were asked for this. It's just me! This is an incredible attempted breach of privacy, and, with Santae now under doxxing allegations, I really don't feel confident they'd keep my personal information… well, personal.

I messaged back almost immediately after they responded to me where I told them I would not send my ID and I had asked if there were any other way I could verify myself to get my account unbanned. I've received no response so far, and after what I've learned, I feel like I'm not going to get one at all.

So, let this be a lesson to you: don't waste your time on Santae. You can be the most obedient player out there. You can abide by all their rules, be a nice and generous player, or just be minding your own business, but if they so much as think you're associated with someone who they think has wronged them, you'll be banned.

And they can't even be bothered to properly tell you why.

#santae #jin speaks #i spent so much time on that game and mann do i regret it LMAO

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whorxology · 9 months ago

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⛧☾༺♰ CABIN FUN ♰༻☽⛧

WARNINGS: NFSW 18+, use of pet name; bunny, smut, Oral (F receiving) very much so not canonically accurate, not proofread, bit of Perv!Luke at the end.

W.C: 2.1k

A/N: I have not read the books only knowledge I have of PJO is from the movies, TV series, and multiple fics I have read. With that being said this is purely for fun. You are more than welcome to disagree and leave feedback.

BASED OFF OF THIS REQUEST

A/N: I feel like this is so off from the request but I feel like corruption kinks are often written to make the reader similar to the young, which I did not want to be how I wrote it so I give you whatever this is

ALSO THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT SO PLEASE BE KIND, MDNI, AND FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME

"Hey Lukey," You said as you heard your cabin door open. You knew it was him he was the only one to enter the cabin at this time which also happened to be when your cabinmates left to sneak out of camp. He always came in asking to borrow something from you sometimes it was tweezers for Annabeth or his shield that he let you borrow. "What did you need now," you asked slightly giggling.

"Uh actually nothing I just wanted to see you," Luke said as he looked at you his hands fidgeting with them nervously. He was dressed in his typical cargo pants and orange camp tee looking overdressed compared to your crop top and sleeping shorts.

"Really? Why?" You tilt your head to the side confusion written across your face. You and Luke obviously were friends you guys just weren't as close as the rest of the group. Mainly due to your huge crush on Luke making you act like a hermit when it's just you and him alone.

"I wanted to talk to you about something," he said sitting on your bed and patting the spot next to him for you to sit on.

"Oh, about what?" you said going to sit next to him as soon as he asked you to. His cold hand finds a way onto your exposed knee the cold rings sending a shiver up your spine that Luke did not miss.

You were thoughtless at the feel of his calloused hands on your smooth skin. Eyes glued on his hand as his thumb rubbed the top of your knee. "Annabeth might've let slip that you have a crush on me." He said head tilted to the side to see your face better really wanting to see your reaction. As soon as those words left his mouth your jaw dropped a soft gasp leaving your plump lips. A pit formed in your stomach as you continued to stare at his hand scared to make eye contact with him. Tears formed in your eyes you knew why he was being so touchy now he was going to reject you it all made sense now.

"Hey bunny look at me," He said his other hand coming up from his side to grab your chin, making you look at him. His puppy dog eyes met your wet ones, making more tears fall decorating your pretty face. Luke would never tell another living soul this but he liked seeing you cry, to know he was the cause of it and not some other punk in camp.

"Luke I am so sorr-."

The start of your ramble was cut short by Luke's lips smashing into yours. He could taste the saltiness from your tears on your lips making him kiss you harder. Once the shock faded from you you kissed him back just as hard. The kiss started as hunger but was now growing into desperation and need. The hand that was once on top of your knee slipped under it to help you climb onto his lap. He needs you closer to him, his hand slipping from your chin to the back of your neck pulling you close into the kiss.

His back is flat against your bed as you lean over him, grinding yourself into him. You can feel all of him under you, his bulge rubbing against your core with every move.

"Luke wait," you mumble into his lips pulling away slightly to look him in the face.

Luke gave a low hum in response, his hips slightly bucking up against yours, his cock throbbing inside of his pants. His hands rested on your hips now guiding you in a swaying motion on him.

"I've never done this before." You say breathlessly still moving your hips against his, the feeling sending butterflies into the lower pits of your stomach. The feeling of his dick twitching against you made a gasp slip past your lips.

"Oh bunny," He says in a whining voice. He suddenly flips you over so that you are now under him. You are now flat on your back as he lays between your legs, his bulge more prominent against his cargo pants. "Im going to make you feel real good baby, do you trust me?'"

In the moment all you can do is nod your head frantically, feeling his against you with such pressure making you need him more. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck placing light kisses under your ear.

"I need you to use your words bunny," he whispers into your ear, pulling a breathy whine from you.

"Please," you say tilting your head to the side to give him more space. He kissed down your neck until he got to a soft spot on your jugular that made you whine. He smirked into your neck before suckling at the spot, the dark purple mark forming on your skin. "You look so pretty under me," He mumbles into your neck as he continues to leave marks all over your neck.

His slightly chapped lips went from your neck to your chest, drawing whines from you. One of his hands trailed up your hips tickling your side as he went under your crop top, his cold hands sending shivers down your spine. He pulled your top over your chest, the cool air making your bare nipples pebble. Feeling exposed at the sudden attention on your boobs your hands go to cover them, Luke's other hand came up pinning your own hand to the side of your head.

"Don't hide yourself from me bunny," He groaned into your chest, attaching his lips to one of your nipples. The sudden warmth of his mouth and the swirl of his tongue draw moans from your mouth. He does the same to your other boob, before moving lower. His hot mouth trailed kisses from your breast to the top of your shorts, you a withering mess under him the whole time his kisses setting your skin on fire. He sat back onto his knees before pulling you by yours to the edge of the bed, a yelp escaping you from the sudden roughness. His hands impatiently made their way under your hips, pulling down your sleeping shorts with such determination it made you moan.

"god am I going to be the first to see your pretty pussy," He said in a teasing tone, thumb lightly rubbing over your clit through your underwear. "Hmm, all this for me pretty girl."

"Yes Luke all for you," you whine hips bucking against his hand, need more desperately. Luke sped his pace up his thumb rubbing your clit in tighter circles, your core clenched on nothing the butterflies in your lower stomach fluttering around even more.

Luke moved his thumb and hooked his fingers on the side of your underwear, asking you to pick your hips up to make the process easier. A low moan emitted from the back of Luke's throat when he finally saw your pussy and she was indeed pretty. He couldn't hold back you were so wet and ready for him. Wasting no time he wrapped his arms around your legs and shoved his face straight into your cunt, tongue parting your folds and his lips attaching to your clit sucking on the bud.

"Fuck Luke," You arch your back in an unexpecting manner not expecting him to basically throw himself in between your thighs. Your hands immediately flew to his brown curls, wrapping your fingers messily in his hair.

Luke's tongue fucked your tight cunt lapping up your juices while the tip of his straight nose rubbed against your clit, his hand trailing up to massage your breast the callouses adding to the pleasure. The sound coming from your glossy pink lips made Luke press harder onto your pussy, hands shaking as you ran them through Lukes’s curly hair

“Feels good bunny?” he mumbles lips going back to your clit as his fingers ghosted over the tops of your thigh, so close to your aching hole.

“So good lukey” you whine hips bucking up desperately trying to relieve the aggressive butterflies from your belly. Tears started to pool in your eyes you didn’t know what to ask for but knew you needed it now. "Please please plea-." “Shhh pretty girl,” Luke chuckled before pulling himself up from in between your legs, his middle finger slipping into your cunt as he kissed you, swallowing your moans. His long fingers find your spongy part, curling his fingers to hit that spot over and over again your backing arching up painfully in pleasure.

" I got you bunny," Luke mumbled his ring finger pushing in beside his middle, you groaned out at the sudden feeling of fullness. He leaned his body onto yours, the feeling of his rough clothing on your soft skin driving you up the walls.

He pumped his fingers in a come hither motion hitting your walls clenching down on his fingers, his lips roughly finding their home on yours. Your stomach tightened as his fingers pumped faster, the once feeling of butterflies turning into a tightening ache deep in your stomach. Feeling wetter and looser than before he managed to slip in his pointer finger, the fullness returning some more with each finger he added.

"Luke my stomach feels funny is that norm-"

"You can take it bunny," he said cutting your question off while leaning his forehead against yours, his breathing much tamer compared to your high-pitched whines and moans. "it'll be worth it," he adds leaving knowing exactly how your feeling, he placed smaller hickeys across your boobs, fingers pumping at a much rougher pace now.

The high-pitched moans that fell from your plump lips were borderline sinful and pornographic, Luke's dick twitching at every sound you made. Your hips bucked into his palm as he continued to finger you drawing you to the brink of cumming.

"OH MY GOD." You shouted as you felt the pressure in your stomach replaced with a dropping feeling, the feeling making your thighs shake as you tried to close your legs around Luke's hand the feeling of his fingers still pumping making you shake more. Overstimulated and exhausted you push at Luke's hand, he pumps his fingers a few more times before pulling them out. The sudden loss of his fingers pulls a whine from you, suddenly feeling empty as your juices flow out your cunt.

"No god just me," Luke's stupid grin spread across his face as he licked your juices off his fingers, getting closer to you he kissed your forehead before getting up to grab a towel from the restroom.

You laughed so hard you felt more cum gush out from you your fits of laughter suddenly cut short, and you laid still on your bed waiting for Luke scared of making a bigger mess on your bed. Luke had come back to see you stiff as a board and started his stupid laughter up again. He leaned over you helping you lift your leg up as he gently used the hand towel to clean you up, you shuddered at the towel going over your sensitive clit. Luke had thrown the towel in your hamper and gotten you new underwear and a shirt for you to change into, your heart swelling with love as you looked at him he looked so domesticated.

"What about you," You say as you slip your clothes on, obviously referring to his bulge, which is still very noticeable.

"Don't worry about me, I got it," He said winking at me as he changed the sheet on your bed, moving at a speed that left you baffled not even you moved that efficiently when it came to changing sheets. After he finished making your bed he had you crawl in so that he could tuck you in.

"You're leaving?" you say sadness in your voice, a weird feeling settling in your chest. "Not my choice bunny if I stay I'm going to end up balls deep in you then you're roommates might walk in and that's a whole other issue I'm not ready to solve," He laughed to himself as a dark blush cover your cheeks, he kissed you deeply his large hand resting on your check almost covering your whole face.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Your question voice came out in a whine, your hand was over his not wanting him to let go yet.

"I'll see you tomorrow bunny," he said kissing you again before finally getting up to leave.

Quickly succumbing to your sleepiness you were fast asleep a few minutes after Luke had left, unbeknown to you your soiled panties left along with him. His extremely late shower took extra long as he pictured your moans in his ears as he got off in his fist panties wrapped tightly in hand.

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lovebugism · 2 years ago

Text

☄. *. ⋆ ┄ How The Gang™ Eats Pussy !

summary: the title is pretty self-explanatory, don't ya think? pairing: the gang™ / f!reader warnings: oral sex (r!receiving) 18+ mdni! a/n: uhh.. happy new year! what better way to start of 2023 than some good ol' fashioned smut? it's been a long time since i've posted any of my writing here so pls be gentle i'm literally so sensitive (but if you have any thoughts or requests feel free to send them here!)

steve !

he’s so so desperate to please

it stems from his reputation as king steve™ i think

like he wants to prove himself so bad even though you’re already head over heels for him

he’s constantly checking in on you

asking you if like it and if he’s doing alright

so when you say yes (because you will say yes) he redoubles his effort

he’s a total sucker for praise

it’s also totally on brand that he’s exponentially good at it

it almost makes you jealous because you’re like how many times have you done this????

but he makes you feel so good you don’t even care

it only takes a couple of times before he’s completely in tune with your body

he always starts off slow and teasing

wants to wind you up until you snap

he knows exactly where to touch you to wring your orgasm out of you

and it comes so gut-wrenchingly slow before hitting you all at once

he’s definitely the kind of guy who’ll talk you through it

“yep, there it is. c’mon, cum for me, you can do it. come on, show me how good you can be. uh-huh. thaaat’s my girl”

he makes you come so hard you cry

and he moans with his mouth on you

because he gets off getting you off

loves getting on his knees for you

and having one of your legs folded over his shoulder

so he can pull you closer by your ass

gets so into it that he won’t stop until you make him

like you have to physically pull him up by his hair

definitely a chronic hand holder™

he’ll have you on your back with his face sandwiched between your thighs

and when your legs start to shake he’ll reach for your hands

“here. hold my hands. let me make you feel good.”

but he won’t let go of you when you come

he’ll keep going as your first orgasm fades into a second, much stronger one

and you can’t stop it or push him away because he’s holding onto your hands

you just have to let it happen and it feels so good

that kind of pleasure you wanna chase and run away from all at once

and after he just smiles up at you with the lower half of his face glistening with you

“see? i knew you could do it.”

eddie !

absolutely loves a woman in charge

would definitely rather you sit on his face and ride his tongue

he’ll make you cum once that way before flipping you over and making you cum again with your legs wrapped around his neck

and he’s so fucking smug

he’s just smirking the entire time

always wants you to say his name

especially when you cum

keeps eye contact the entire time

will look directly at you while he spits on your pussy

and grins when it makes your eyes roll back in your head

if he’s feeling particularly dominant he’ll stop whenever you look away

“c’mon, look at me, sweetheart. can’t keep going until i see those eyes… there we go.”

he’s a little overeager sometimes

sloppy and aggressive when he gets really into it

sometimes you have to be like “whoa, slow down, tiger. we’ve got all night”

and he just smirks at you like “yeah, we do”

then you’re eating your words because best believe he will go all night

he’s also got a massive praise kink

and loves when you tell him how good you feel

bc he’s not all that experienced

and he likes to know he’s not the Worst at eating pussy

especially if you have more experience bc he wants to be the best for you

and he Will absolutely brag about it to anyone that will hear when you tell him no one’s ever made you cum so hard before

he’s also super duper vocal

he loves the way you taste and will 100% tell you

pussy spreader supreme™

just loves to take a minute to look at you before ravishing you

and you hate it because you feel so vulnerable

but he’s so obsessed with you “god, you have the prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen”

and he's not even saying it to make you feel good necessarily

he's basically just talking to himself

will smile and laugh like a cheeky little shit when he makes you cum

can be a little bit patronizing but in the eddie munson kinda way

“i thought you said you couldn’t cum again? what happened to that, huh?”

you’ll also have to pull him off of you or else he’ll keep going

he could absolutely eat your pussy for hours if you let him

robin !

definitely has zero experience eating pussy

like maybe she’s tried to learn by watching porn

but definitely has no idea what she’s doing

she’s a little shy at first and is constantly look to you for reassurance

wants you to tell her what to do

“go down a little bit… a little to the left— yeah, shit, right there”

and once she finds that sweet spot she’ll work at it until you come

she’s super duper gentle at first

but once she gains confidence, good luck

will give you 1000000% when her mouth is on you

like even when her neck starts to hurt from the angle, she will not stop until you cum

she’ll talk a lot and compliment you the entire time

and will say anything that comes to mind no matter how dirty it is

“god, you’re so wet” “you taste so good, i didn’t know a person could taste this good” “you’re pussy is perfect. i honestly didn’t think you could get any prettier”

she doesn’t even know what she’s saying half the time

but it literally drives you crazy

also the sound of her voice is sexy enough to make you cum

and you’re constantly begging her to talk dirty to you

“please, talk to me” you’ll whine

and after the first few times she’ll know what you mean but still play coy

“i am talking to you” she’ll say with an wide eyes all innocent

but yeah she’s more than happy to do it because 1. she can’t shut up to save her life and 2. she knows how quickly it’ll drive you to your breaking point

wants you to pull at her hair and steer her wherever you want her to go and bury her face between your legs

is not against you sitting on her face

even though the idea scares you a little

like you don’t want to hurt her or break her neck or something

she’s just like “if i die eating your pussy, i will die the happiest woman alive”

and you believe her

nancy !

so in my head she’s, like, freshly out

and hasn’t eaten a girl out before

though she has dreamed about it many, many times

but when she goes down on you, it’s like she’s a professional

bc she’s a perfectionist and can’t ever half-ass anything

she’s 100% tactical and sees it as her goal to make you come

so she’ll throw herself wholly into doing just that

will call your pussy her pussy because yeah

i see her as being a little bit rough too

so there are constantly bruises and crescent-shaped marks left on your thighs and hips from her nails

which she keeps trimmed just so she can finger you <3

there’s biting too because she loves the feeling of your skin between her teeth

won’t do it enough to hurt you per se, just enough to leave a mark

she uses just enough teeth to drive you crazy

sucks your clit into her mouth at the same time she drives her fingers into your g-spot

she’ll also spank directly on your clit to drive you towards another (second, third, fourth?) orgasm

she can get nasty with it if she wants

and will eat you out as a way to get what she wants

if you’re upset at her, she Will go down on you

partly as an apology but also because she knows you won’t be mad at her after

bc it’s impossible to be after she’s made you cum so hard you can’t feel your legs

i see her more into praising you than you praising her

she’ll compliment you the whole way through

but it’s also a little bit condescending

“oh look at you, always so pretty and wet for me, aren’t you? this is all it takes? just me touching you? seriously?”

and i see her loving to have her hair tugged at

but like also

she doesn’t like to be told what to do

so if you’re pulling her closer to you or trying to pull her away, she’ll definitely punish you

“what did i tell you about touching me, huh? that’s not what good girls do, right? now, i’m gonna make you come and i’m not gonna stop until i see tears. touch me again and you won’t come again for another week, got it?”

maybe i’m just projecting but i can see her definitely having a mommy kink

and still has an air of dominance about her even when she’s making you feel good

she’ll sense you getting close and will command that you cum for her

her voice is so soft and gentle but she isn’t asking you to cum she demanding that you do

and definitely gets off on working your body to its breaking point

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ctrlsht · 1 year ago

Text

Fragment of the Past 03

pairing: patient!jungkook x psychiatrist!reader genre: thriller & yandere au

summary: You are a well-known and respected psychiatrist and author. You start treating Jungkook, who suffers from PTSD after surviving an extremely traumatic incident. As you help him confront his traumatic past, he begins to act strangely, and you start uncovering something about him that will change everything.

chapter summary: You thought that you could finally escape from Jungkook but little did you know that he has something more to hold against you. You endure everything that he did to you but he was too much until you can no longer take him anymore.

chapter warnings: hazing, fraternity, blackmailing, manipulation, smut, non con/dub con, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), mc was traumatized, stalking, murder, major character death word count: 11.3K

parts: (1) | (2) | (3)

note: This fiction will contain multiple mental disorders and psychology facts. I conducted my own research to avoid spreading misinformation, but there may be aspects I've overlooked, so I am open for any corrections.

"Why are you here? Aren't you aware of the restraining order?" You threw your pen on the table and stood up from your seat, while a sinister smile curled his lips. He continued to take a step towards you and you immediately pushed the buttons that connected to the reception desk. He only laughed before he spoke.

“It’s 9 in the evening, Y/N. No one’s here except for the both of us.” His words send shivers down your spine.

He was right, Soyeon and your other colleagues went home 3 hours ago and you’re the only one left inside.

You love to overwork but right now, you wish that you just continue working at home.

He’s going to kill you before the night ends. You’re sure of it.

You reach your phone with a shaking hand as you scroll to your contact list and click Detective Jung’s number.

“Who are you going to call? Detective Jung?” His words were like whispers from the depths of darkness.

Detective Jung isn’t answering your calls.

“You’d be arrested once you come near me.” You tried to threaten him, but it only sounded like a joke to him.

He took a seat in his usual position as he intertwined both of his hands.

“I commend you for your cleverness when you ask for a restraining order against me,” He crosses his legs and touches his lips. “Unfortunately for you, it won’t stop me from attending our sessions."

“It’s my first time attending an evening session, is it also your first time, Dr. Y/N?” He said with a malevolent grin stretched across his lips.

“I swear, before the sun rises tomorrow, you’d be arrested.” You spoke, clenching your jaw.

“With how fast you climb to the top, I thought you were smart, Y/N. But I was wrong.” He pokes the inside of his cheek as he smirks. “You should know by now the reason why I’m not in jail for killing my mother.”

You weren’t able to respond, like a cat caught your mouth.

“I thought that you’ll do great in kicking me out of your life so I came prepared. I even thought that you’d approach a different detective for this one, and fortunately, you still decide to approach Detective Jung.” He pauses to let out his laughs. “Don’t you know that he was the reason why I’m still free? He’s my best friend, Y/N!” A sinister laugh erupted from his throat as your body started to shake.

“I even came up with a plan with my lawyer if ever I was arrested but damn Y/N, I somehow wish that you give me a thrill. You made my life easier than I expected.”

As he said those words, your legs turned to jelly, and a tightness gripped your chest.

You’ve underestimated him and his power and now, your life's on the line.

“Go ahead and ruin my reputation. Upload those recordings online, I don’t care anymore. I can’t stomach you anymore, Jungkook.” You spoke in a serious tone, before fixing your things.

“Are you sure about that?” He asked, a smile evident in his voice.

“If you think you need to use those recordings to destroy me, feel free to do so. I won't participate in this any longer. I refuse to be a part of your games, Jungkook.”

“Oh, Y/N.” He sighs before he continues. “If you think that this is all about you, you’re wrong.” He stood up and took out his phone from his pocket. You’re about to go but he thrust his phone in your chest. “Watch it because you’d love to see what kind of a person your best friend really is.” He smirks and you look at his phone. It was a video and you were scared to play it. The thumbnail is Taehyung standing in front of a man with their eyes blindfolded. Taehyung looks so young in here and you aren’t sure what’s happening. One way to find out.

You wish you didn’t take his phone. You wish that you just proceed on walking out of your clinic, leaving him inside because when you play the video, you immediately hear a painful scream coming from a man. It wasn’t Taehyung who’s screaming, instead, a man was kneeling and bleeding while his eyes were blindfolded, and Taehyung was hitting him with a baseball bat.

Holy shit.

Taehyung looks so young in the video. His hair was blonde, it’s his hair when he was 17 or 18, as you remember. You can’t believe what you saw. The man that he’s hitting is begging for him to stop but he doesn't. Instead, he hit him harder.

Your hands were trembling, almost dropping the phone as you stopped the video from playing.

What was that?

“Why do you look so scared, Y/N? It’s your best friend.” Jungkook slowly took the phone from your hand.

Your body trembled uncontrollably, fear had taken hold of your very core. You looked at him, shaking your head.

“That’s not Taehyung.” You said.

“Oh Y/N, I wish you’re right, but it was him.” He chuckled. He takes a few steps back and places his right hand on his pocket as he scrolls to find something on his phone.

When he finds it, he shows his phone once again. You were confused because it’s a group of male people and when he noticed your confusion, he zoomed the screen and you saw Taehyung in the photo.

“He’s part of underground society way back before he was an artist and that's when I knew him, Y/N. He was one of the people who performed the initiation rites for the new members, and that video you just saw? It’s what he does for the society he’s in.”

You can’t believe it, you refuse to believe it. Taehyung won’t do that. He won’t harm—

“Why do you look so shocked?” He asked with a grin on his face, mocking you. “You should know that, as his best friend.”

“That’s not him.” You said, trying more to convince yourself. “Taehyung can’t do that. He won't take part in that kind of behavior.”

“Then you don’t really know your friend.” He placed his phone back in his pocket. “Stop being too naive, Y/N. Everyone has their own secrets to keep.”

“Do you really think that I would believe you? Whatever shit you’re trying to pull, you won’t make me believe you.” You said in your sharp tone.

“But the people will.” He took a step towards you with a smirk on his lips.

“You may refuse to believe it but the people will. They will believe so easily in whatever’s happening in that video.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat resonating with the intensity of the madness you feel. You never felt this kind of anger before. It’s too much that you wanted to kill him.

“What do you want?! What do you really want!” Your rage erupted like a blazing fire, smacking his chest aggressively. You keep on smacking and pushing him, while he doesn't even show any hint of pain. “Why are you doing this to me!” you shouted, tears welling up in your eyes and when you got tired, your hits became slower until you decided to stop.

Jungkook held your wrist and looked at your eyes with intensity. You cannot resist him anymore because you’re too tired.

“What do I want?” He repeated the question while staring at your eyes. “It’s simpler than you think.” His words were soft as a smile formed on his mouth. “I want you, Y/N.”

You sob before you release your wrist from his grip. “I can’t have another session with you. You’re not cooperating.” You respond, letting out a weary sigh.

“That’s not what I mean.” He shook his head, slowly scanning your face down to your body. “I want you without your clothes, laying down while I am on top of you.”

You immediately shook your head. “No fucking way. I won’t let you do that.”

“Then you agreed to let me upload your illegal voice recordings with your patients along with the video of your best friend, beating the hell out of an innocent man. I bet the people will love to see what their idol really is, right?”

You’re already bursting out of tears, shaking your head. “Please don’t involve him anymore.”

“It’s your own fault, Y/N. The only thing that I want is a session with you until I recover, yet you pushed my limits. Now, you have to face the consequences of your actions.” He takes a step towards you, leaning forward to see your face full of tears and wipe them using the both of his finger thumb. You hit his arms and took a step backwards.

“You’re sick.” You turn around to gather your things and when you’re about to leave, he speaks.

“I’m telling you, you don’t want to test me because you wouldn’t like the ending.”

—

That same night, you didn't go home; instead, you went straight to Taehyung's place. He wasn't there because he had a shoot, but you waited. You couldn't wait any longer. You couldn't bring yourself to believe what you had seen unless it came directly from him. You've known Taehyung since birth, and you were certain that the videos and photos you had just seen couldn't be him because you knew he wouldn't do such things.

Yet you don’t understand why you felt betrayed even though you haven’t talked to him.

When he arrived, that’s the first thing you ask him and it’s too obvious that he didn’t anticipate it. As the longer he can’t respond, the ache you feel worsens.

“Answer me, Kim Taehyung. Are you a member of an underground society?” You repeat the question, emphasizing every word.

“Where did—

“Just answer me!”

Taehyung was taken aback with your screams and a fear is evident in his face. He stood there frozen, unable to move or look away. He sighs before he speaks.

“Yes.”

Your body hunched, eyes closed as a tear streamed down your face. You lowered your body, squatted and your shoulders shook with each shuddering sobs.

“Y/N, w-why?” Taehyung immediately went to you but when his hand landed on your shoulder, you stood up, immediately pushing him away.

“You beat people, Taehyung! You beat them to death, you monster!”

“Y/N, please let me explain—

“Explain what?! How the fuck you beat them until they die?!”

“It’s not my choice! They were threatening to kill me if I didn’t do what they wanted!”

You glared at him, choosing not to respond.

“I thought it was a normal organization when I joined but I was tricked! I tried to leave but they didn’t let me and they even threatened to kill me if I reported them to the police! I was just 17 years old at that time, Y/N! I didn’t know what to do!”

He was trembling as a tear formed in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was scared that they would involve you. It’s a trap.”

“So you were still involved with them?” Your voice raised and he immediately shook his head.

“No! I managed to get away when we were caught doing the initiation rite, but I managed to run away without being caught. I wasn’t the one performing the initiation rite during that time so it was easy for me to run away.” He explained.

You only stare at him, imagining the 17-year-old Taehyung standing in front of you. During that time, you don't remember anything that may hint he was in danger. The only Taehyung you saw was the jolly and energetic Taehyung, not knowing that he was facing a dangerous situation.

Little did you know that 12 years from now, you’d also face the same situation like he does.

You took a step towards him and wrapped your arms around him, sobbing uncontrollably. You can’t imagine he faced that problem all by himself at that age. You were supposed to be with him as he faced his battles, but he was all alone.

“Why didn’t you tell me even after you managed to run away?” You spoke, choked sobs wracked your body as he stroked your back gently.

“It’s okay, it’s all in the past.”

You were in that position for a few moments until you calmed down. You break away from him and wipe your own tears.

“How did you find out?” with that, you’re back from reality, the reason why you are here.

“I saw a video of you beating a man. That’s how I found out.” His mouth hung open as his breath came in short.

“Where did you watch it?”

"An anonymous sender sent me the video. I couldn't bring myself to save the video because I can't bear to watch it again, so I deleted it," You reason out. You can’t tell him the truth because it will only complicate things more. “But I already reported it to the authorities and a security specialist and they guarantee that the person responsible for it will be caught.”

You felt bad for lying but you can’t tell him the truth. It wasn’t a good idea to confront him about this manner in the first place but you were not in your right mind when you decided to go here. You were caught off-guards.

You just need to make sure that no one will see that video again. How? That’s also something you don’t know yet.

—

Jungkook hasn’t bothered you lately, and it only worsens your anxiety. You know him and he won’t simply stop. You don’t know what’s his next move but soon, he’ll come after you.

You always check what’s trending on social media, watching out for any news that can relate to you and Taehyung, but you’ve always found nothing. You even checked on Jungkook’s latest activities on their media pages and there’s nothing suspicious, yet you can still feel the lash that Jungkook tied on your neck.

You’re on your way for a book interview because your newest book entitled ‘The Paradox of Choice’ is about the launch. You’re nervous and you’re overthinking everything without a specific reason why.

The feeling you felt right now is different from your previous book launching because right now, you don’t feel good.

Maybe because you've been stressing lately with what’s happening right now or maybe because something is going to happen.

You wish it wasn’t the latter.

“Three more minutes!” The crew announced.

This book launch is coming along with an interview at an evening talk show. You’ve experienced guesting in several talk shows yet, you felt so anxious that your trembling worsened as the minute passed by.

“Hey, are you okay?” Your assistant held your hand as you stood up. You looked at her and gave her a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“Yes, I am okay.”

As you get closer towards the stage, your heartbeat increases. You pause for a while and take a deep breath, while closing your eyes.

You can do this.

“Good evening, Dr. Y/N! How are you doing?” Park Jimin—the host asked you with a wide smile on his face.

“I’m great, how are you?” you try to connect the level of your energy to his.

“I’m great as well! Are you ready? I know you won’t get too nervous since you have been a guest in several talk shows and interviews, right?” Oh, how you wish that’s your case.

“Of course! I look forward to this!”

You had a few talks with Jimin, explaining how the show will flow and you also reviewed the possible questions that he’s going to ask you. You were starting to get comfortable being on the stage. The rolling is about to start when your eyes land on a familiar figure wearing a black hoodie along with a headphone on his head. Your eyes widened in a complete terror, as your pulse raced with each thudding heartbeat.

Jeon Jungkook is here, staring at you with a demonic smile on his face.

“Rolling! We’ll begin in 3… 2… 1.” He was looking at you while he spoke on his headphones. Your surroundings turned into a blur as you felt that every movement was in slow motion. You notice that Park Jimin is already talking with so much energy and you try to wake yourself up.

“What inspires you to write this book? Was there a particular experience or realization that led to its creation?”

You grip your hand to stop its trembling before you answer. “People tend to choose their biggest life decisions when they are in an emotional state, and this book will teach everyone to always think twice or even thrice whenever they make big decisions for themselves. I, myself once experience choosing a decision that I wish I did not choose, and it lend me to regrets, which I don’t want people to experience that’s why I wrote ‘The Paradox of Choice.’”

You try not to look at Jungkook after you respond but your own eyes are betraying you. There’s a sly smile on his lips as his eyes bore into you.

You fucking hate it when his eyes are on you.

“How did you research and gather information for your book? Can you describe your process?” You froze on your seat when Jimin asked you that question. Your hands tremble even more, gripping it tightly to stop. You glance at Jungkook who’s standing meters away from you, playing his lips with his fingers.

You don’t want to answer this because your method of gathering information for your book is what he obviously uses against you.

‘I record the sessions with my patients and analyze it to add an input to the book.’

It was the answer that you cannot say while he’s watching.

Instead, “I did my own research with the help of my patient’s own experiences.”

Even in your peripheral view, you could still feel his eyes digging into your soul.

Once the shoot is done, you immediately storm out of the stage and lock yourself inside the comfort room for god knows how long.

You stood before the sink, hands outstretched beneath the gentle stream of cool water pouring from the faucet as it ran down to your hands.

You slowly rub both of your hands but the trembling of it isn’t stopping. You rub it even further to steady your hands, until you suddenly outburst silently. You can’t scream or cry, and the only thing you can do is endure the anger you feel right now.

The soft hum of fluorescent lights filled the space with white glow, opposite of what you feel right now. Your hands are still trembling as you look at your face in the mirror.

You look so horrible.

When you’re stressed out because of your workloads, you can still appreciate the beauty you have, but right now, you really look so miserable.

Jungkook is doing his excellent job in fucking you up.

This is driving you insane. He’s driving you insane. You’re fed up with all of his shit and it’s too much already. You don’t even know what you did wrong for him to do this to you. The only thing you did is help him cope up with his trauma–or more like fake traumas.

So you don’t know where you went wrong with him.

Your assistant called your name on the other side of the door, asking if you’re fine which you’re not. You did your best to calm down before you decided to come out.

It’s almost midnight when you’ve finished packing your things and ready to leave. Everyone’s out already and you don’t know who was left. You’re supposed to go home an hour ago but you choose to rest for a while before you go.

The basement parking lot was nearly empty when you arrived; not even the guards were visible. But, as you approached your car, you noticed a tall, muscular man standing beside it, wearing a black hoodie, with both of his hands inside his pockets, clearly waiting for you.

He looked up when he noticed your presence, he stood straight, greeting you with a smirk on his face.

“What took you so long?” Jungkook asked, a sly smile still on his face.

“What do you want?” You pondered, glaring at him.

He scoffed, “You always ask the same question over and over even though you already know the answer.”

You didn’t respond, ignoring him, as you walked towards the driver’s seat but before you even opened the door, he already blocked you.

“Don’t ignore me while I’m talking to you.” He threatened, eyes buried on you.

“I have no more business with you.” You answered, passing by him as you opened the front door.

“As far as I remember, we still have business going on.” He said, provoking you even more.

You placed down your things on the passenger seat and before you could even hop on, he spoke.

“You’re brave enough to ignore me now. Why? Do you think I’m already done with you?” His voice dripped with a mocking undertone, a wry smirk played on his lips as he spoke.

“Or you’d be glad to see you and your best friend in the news by tomorrow morning?”

You clenched your jaw, glaring at him as you balled your fist. “I’ve already done what you want. I let you continue our remaining sessions but you go beyond that and pester me for almost 3 times a week! What more do you want?!”

He tilted his head, licking his lips, trying his best to hide his teasing smile. He clicked his tongue before he spoke. “That's the second time you ask that question. Do you have other questions in mind that you’d like to ask?”

“When will you ever stop?” He instantly laughed at your question.

“You didn’t even hide the fact that you already want me out of your life.”

“I never try hiding it.”

“You’re becoming stronger and bolder now, Y/N. Well, I prefer this rather than seeing you crying your ass out begging me to stop. Unless, you’re crying as you scream my name.” He wore a suggestive smirk, provoking you even more.

“You’re sick!”

“You’ve been asking what I want and I’ve already told you, Y/N. I hate it when I keep repeating myself. You’re not stupid, you know that.” He arched a brow, a scornful stare bore into you.

“And you’re delusional if you think I’d agree with that.”

“Then suit yourself and make sure that you won’t regret your decision.” He smirks, biting his lower lips.

“What are you gonna do?” You asked but when he didn’t answer and turned away, you screamed at him.

“Jungkook, what the fuck are you going to do?!”

He scoffed before he looked back. “You’ll see.”

—

You want to die.

You just fucking want to die and bring Jungkook along with you.

Your emotions churned like a violent sea, a mix of anxiety, anger and fear that threatened to overturn you. Your heart pounded with rage, and your fingers trembled with fear as you held your phone, trying to avoid dropping it.

A video posted on twitter is playing from your phone, a video that you saw a few days ago.

You felt like throwing up when you saw that video again. Taehyung's face is blurred, but you can tell it's him. People might struggle to identify the person beating up an innocent man, but it won't take long for them to figure it out.

‘I wonder if you guys have any hint of who’s that man on the video? I bet you guys know because you love him so much. But I also wonder if you know your idol’s true color.’

The caption says, and the account is made to specifically attack and throw hate to people.

This could be Jungkook, but you weren't certain because he could have asked others to do it to avoid implicating himself. He has a reputation to maintain as well.

101k views, 5k reposts and 26k likes.

‘Holy shit. Why do I feel like it’s Beom Seok from Horizon?’

‘This should be taken down.’

‘Eun Dae used to be a member of a fraternity before he become an idol lmaooo’

‘Taehyung was also rumored to be part of a frat before but it hasn't been proven yet.’

Fucking hell. Taehyung must know this shit already and you don’t know what to do. It should be taken down but the video was posted 2 hrs ago and you just saw it right now. Even though it was taken down, people already saved it from their devices.

You were still in the middle of breaking down when your phone rang, and when you saw the caller ID, your blood erupted.

It was Jeon Jungkook. You scream on your phone before you decline the call. You were about to turn your phone off when he sent a message that angered you even more.

‘Decline the call one more time, you will see the video again and I will make sure that the face of Taehyung is visible for everyone to know that it’s him.’

Your hands grew cold and started to shake when your phone rang once again. You had been clenching your teeth before deciding to answer the call.

“How are you, Doc?” He greets you in his sweet voice that only annoys you even more. “Do you think that I wouldn’t do it?” He added, releasing a sarcastic laugh.

“Take it down, Jungkook.” Your words dripped with menace.

“You’re the one who made me do it. It’s your fault, Y/N.”

“You monster! Why do you have to involve him?! He didn’t even do anything!” You screamed, pulling your hair out of anger.

“I know but you care for him so much. It’s a natural thing to involve him.”

Your tears run through your cheek as you collapse from the ground. You’re starting to lose your sanity.

“What do you want?” You spoke in a low voice.

“You want to know? Come here at my place and I will let you know, Y/N.”

—

You’ve expected that Jungkook is living in a high end luxurious apartment building but you didn’t expect that it would be in the highest floor, a penthouse.

Jungkook noted that he left the door unlocked so you can enter without him opening it for you. You were scared of what could happen inside his penthouse given the fact that he’s a dangerous person by murdering his own mother but you’re desperate to stop him.

Your heart was pounding when you opened his double-door and as expected, it was unlocked.

You are greeted by a huge area of floor-to-ceiling windows that frame breathtaking panoramic views of the whole city lights. The living room is adorned with designer furniture, a monochromatic symphony of blacks, grays, and whites, and a wall adorned with abstract art that speaks Jungkook's taste.

The place is beautiful, opposite to the person living in here.

“You came.” You immediately turned around when you heard his demonic voice behind. He’s in the corner of the stairs from the second floor as he slowly steps down, hands in his pocket with a smirk on his lips.

“Take that video down.” You glared, speaking with your teeth.

“Or else, what? Are you going to report me again? ” He stopped in the middle of the stairs, placing his hands on the railings. He scoffs when you don't respond. “You should know by now that it won’t work, Y/N.” He added, continuing to step down.

“I’m already here, so tell me what the fuck do you want?” You raised your voice, itching to know what he really wants.

“Why are you in a hurry, Doc?” He was about to touch your face when you blocked his hands, throwing it away.

“Take that video down, Jungkook.” You spoke, trying to contain yourself.

He smirks before he turns away and takes a step towards his kitchen island, pouring wine on his wine glass.

"I've already done that for being such a good and obedient girl." He sips on his wine, not breaking eye contact with you. “But I can upload it again if you choose to test my patience.” He adds. You bite the inside of your lower lips to prevent yourself from attacking him.

“Why did you even ask me to be here?”

“Didn’t I tell you before? I want you, Y/N.”

He poured wine in another glass and walked towards you, handling the wine for you, but you just glanced at it and returned your gaze to him.

“Let’s not waste time and tell me what the fuck you want so I can leave now.” You said in gritted teeth.

“I already told you, so stop being stubborn and drink this wine before I change my mind and upload the video with your best friend's face clearly visible along with the illegal recordings you had with your patient.” In an instant, he shifted from a playful smirk to a sudden seriousness, dropping the playful facade.

You take the wine in his hands and he asks you to drink but you immediately shake your head. “I’m not going to let you poison me.”

“If I’m going to do that, I already did when I first walked into your office. It’s easier to kill you than to kill my mother, if that’s what you want to hear.” His words sent shivers down your spine, forcing yourself to sip in the glass as the taste of rich, velvety smoothness of the wine caressed your tongue. He smirks when he is satisfied with your sip.

“See, you’re still alive.”

He turned around taking a step forward and telling you to follow him, but when you didn’t, he looked back and his unyielding gaze bore into you. “Are you coming or do you want me to drag you from where you stand right now?”

You swallow hard, trying not to prevent yourself from showing any signs of fear, but it was harder than you thought because you’re in his territory.

“Are you going to kill me?” Your words come out as a whisper but he was able to hear it and when he does, he grins.

“Why, are you scared?” He took a sip from his wine, eyes fixed on you. “To answer your question, no, I’m not going to kill you.”

“Then where are you taking me?”

“We’ll have dinner, now start to move before I drag you to the dining table.”

You indeed had dinner with him and several dishes were served on the long table. By just looking at what is served, you immediately remember that you hadn’t eaten anything yet since morning and everything you see is appetizing. The whole dining room was magnificent. The space was bathed in a war, golden glow of crystal chandelier that hung from a high, ornate ceiling. If you were in a different situation, you’d love to stay here.

Obviously, your life’s on the line and you can’t just eat and relax right now.

“Don’t you like the food? Why aren’t you eating much?” He asked before he took another bite of his steak.

You’ve tasted what’s in front of you and it was so insanely good, but you can’t eat much by just thinking of what situation you have right now.

"I'm not hungry," you reasoned out, then sipped your glass of water. You glanced around to see if there was anyone else in the vicinity, but you saw nothing, not even maids or cooks. It was the perfect opportunity for him to kill you, with no one else around except the two of you.

“I doubt. I know that you haven’t eaten anything. Go and enjoy your meal. It won’t harm you.” You only stare at your plate, trying to wash away the negative thoughts you have. You took another bite of your steak and you can’t help but to crave more on how it tastes so good.

“I could tell that you like the steak, but you’re having a hard time enjoying it. I wonder what’s running through your mind.” He placed both of his elbows on the table and intertwined his fingers.

“Will you let me go after this meal?” Your question made him chuckled, loud and mocking.

“Here you go again, so desperate to leave me.” He commented, wiping the corner of his lips with a table napkin.

“If you just tell me what you’re planning to do, then I wouldn’t keep asking you.” You answered, taking a sip of your water.

“This is the plan you’re asking about. Didn’t I tell you before that I wanted to take you out for dinner to show my gratitude for being my therapist? That’s what I’m doing right now.” He grabs his wine glass and leans back before he whirl the glass, taking a sip from it.

“That’s it? That’s what you want? To take me out for dinner?” You asked like you can’t believe what he just said.

“Why, what do you expect?” He placed his elbow on the arm rest and played with his lips; the mannerisms he does when he’s enjoying something.

“You must be kidding me right now. I know you want something more. I know you, Jungkook. I know you.”

“If you claim to know me so much, then you should know that I am serious with what I want from you.” His eyebrow furrowed, gazing at you with intensity. “That’s the problem with people like you. You think too much and it leads you to danger.” He scoffs.

He stood up from his seat and took a step towards you, while you didn’t move an inch from your position.

“From the moment I walked into your office, I know from myself that I want you. With your long hair falling back beautifully to the tight black dress you wore, I immediately agreed to take the sessions with you.” He stood beside you from your seat, resting his hands on the backrest of your chair while you were there, completely frozen.

“Hoseok and my lawyer Namjoon told me that I should act like the incident causes me trauma to prevent them from suspecting me to be the culprit. I did not agree because it’s bullshit but they keep on convincing me.” He chuckled as he remembered something. “I planned on attending a single session and I won’t show up again but when I saw you sitting on your office chair with a bright smile on your pretty face, I thought that attending sessions with you won’t be that bad after all.”

He caresses your hair and you try not to flinch, clenching your jaw.

“I do enjoy the sessions we had because you’re so entertaining to watch. You talked as if you know everything but the truth is, you don’t. I just let you think that way because you’re so passionate about what you do. I don’t want to ruin your ego, Doc.”

He kept on caressing your hair and when you couldn't take it anymore, you stood up, facing him with anger on your face.

“I’m done with my meal. I’m going home.” You gazed at him with a piercing stare, picking up your things.

“You think I will let you leave just like that?” An ominous aura surrounded him when `he spoke. You’re trying to strengthen yourself as you take a step towards the door, but before you even made it, he spoke again. “Get back here, Y/N.” He threatened.

“Stop playing with me, Jungkook.”

“Try to take another step and I will make sure that before this night ends, your career is over as well as your best friend’s. You know that I can do it, Y/N. You wouldn’t like to test me again.” A cold, sinister flowed from his voice.

You didn’t dare take another step, afraid of provoking him even more. You hate that he can control you with just the use of his words. You still have the lash on your neck, making him take control over you.

“That’s right, be the good girl that you are, Y/N.” He said, with a smirk on his lips. He placed his hands inside his pocket as he slowly walked towards you. “I don’t understand why you keep giving me that kind of behavior but you can’t stand by it.” He towered over you and he tried to touch your cheek but before he even did it, you avoided his touch and took a step backward.

He smirks, staring at you before he speaks again. “Even if you try to avoid me, I will still find my way to you, Y/N. If I were you, I wouldn't waste my time doing that.” He walks back to the long table and grabs his wine glass and takes a sip on it without leaving his eyes on you.

You didn’t move nor say anything, observing his movements. You’re at his territory and you couldn’t risk provoking him because he can do anything to you without the people knowing what’s happening inside his penthouse.

He grabbed the new bottle of wine and opened it, filling up your wine glass, walking towards you, and handling you the glass. You only stare at it and Jungkook gestures to you to take it.

“Hurry up and get it, Y/N. My arms are starting to numb.” He said and you are left without a choice, so you take the wine from his hands. “Go drink it.”

You look at the wine glass and there are a few bubbles underneath it and you swallow hard before you take a sip from it.

“Finish it up, Y/N. Don’t make me tell you everything you have to do.”

You wanted to cry but you didn’t let your guards down. You’re starting to regret going here.

You chug the wine while your hands are trembling and he smiles after you finish it.

“That’s right, you’re such a good girl.” He took the glass from you and placed it back on the table.

After a few moments, your heartbeat increases rapidly and your whole body starts to tremble. Jungkook was just looking at you as he enjoyed his wine and you suddenly felt so weak, your head started to ache.

There is something wrong with the wine.

You take a deep breath, fighting the weakness within you. You wouldn’t want to show that you’re getting weak in front of him. You walk back to your seat and grab your things before looking at him.

“I really have to go. I have a lot of things to do.” You spoke in your low voice, being careful of your actions.

Jungkook pouted in a sarcastic way. “There’s no way I’m letting you go.” he answered before he smirked. Your headache worsened but you didn’t show any signs of your weakness.

He walked towards you and you admit that you’re getting scared of what he might do. You step back but there is no more space because the table is already bumping your back. He raised his hand to touch your face once again but you blocked his touch.

And in a snap of a finger, he aggressively grabbed your face using only a single hand and his eyes suddenly filled with darkness. “Stop resisting me, Y/N. You can’t win over me.” He spoke in a low but sinister tone.

Your limbs trembled uncontrollably, unable to withstand the weight of your fear. After a few seconds of staring at your soul with so much intensity, he already released his firm hold on your face but he didn’t move away. Instead, he slowly traces your face with his fingers.

Your weakness worsens and you can’t move nor think anymore. The only thing you can do is let him touch you.

“I love it so much when the cause of your weakness is me.”

Your eyes widen as you gasp silently when his lips crushes on you. It was hard and you tried to move away but he gripped your arm, unabling you to move. You were trying to push him but because of your weakness, it didn’t even move an inch.

“Open your mouth, baby girl.” He commands as he speaks in between his kisses.

“Jungkook s-stop—

“I told you not to fight me.”

His lips went down on your neck sucking your skin and you used all your strength to push him away but he was too strong. He locked your hand on the table as he shifted his kiss on your lips and neck. Your body is shaking and tears are now flowing from your cheek and when he notices it, he stops, staring at you without removing his grip on your hand from the table.

“If you keep being difficult, I fucking swear that you wouldn’t make it out alive and I will make sure that your bestfriend will fall on the ground so hard that he can never recover.” He whispers in your ear, making you stand frozen with a pounding heart.

You were too weak to fight and you’re sure that it’s not only because he’s dangerous but there is something in the wine you just drank.

He stares at your face, like memorizing every feature of it. He lifts his hand, slowly wiping your tears away. He traces your face before he moves closer to peck your forehead. His lips were soft on your skin, but it only sent shivers down your spine.

“You don’t have to be scared because I will bring heaven to you.” He whispers before he sucks your ear lobe.

He held your waist while kissing you, pushing his tongue inside. His lips were so soft and you could taste the bittersweet of the wine he just drank a few moments ago. His hands were traveling around your body while his lips were still on yours. You wanted to push him and run away but you know that you couldn’t do that because before you even reach his gigantic door, you’re probably dead.

“Do you know how much I crave for you, huh?” He tried to speak in his desperate kisses as his breath became heavier. “From the first time I step in your office, you never leave my head. You fucking drive me insane.”

He lifted you up to the table as his kisses became aggressive and you were just there, being helpless.

He cupped the back of your neck as he sucked it leaving a bruise before his hands traveled down to your thighs and caressed them. His hands were burning through your skin and you deny that your body starts to burn as well. He lifts you up and your thighs are in between his body carrying you to an unfamiliar room and the next thing you know, you’re already laying down on a bed.

Your back slowly touched the soft mattress as he started to crawl on the top of you. Your body is trembling and your heart is beating so fast as he brushes your face with the back of his fingers.

“This is what I really want, Y/N. Me on the top of you.” The room is dark but you could still see the glimpse of his face with how the moon illuminated the darkness of the room. He gently strokes your face down to your neck, until it reaches your chest. He leans forward and places his ears on your chest, listening to your pounding heartbeat. “Just by listening to your heartbeat is enough for me to get turned on.” He whispers in your ears before he brushes his lips to your neck, immediately feelings his hot and wet breaths.

Your breath rose when you felt his fingers crawling underneath your shirt, fingers wandering at your bare skin. You suddenly flinch when his fingers rub your breast, making him smirk. “You like it when I touch you like this?” He asked in his low and seductive voice, and when you didn’t respond, his fingers circles your nipples slowly causing you to moan.

You’re wearing a dress and he slowly lifts the end of it, completely taking your dress off and when he did, he gave a peck on your breast before removing your bra. A sudden sense of unwanted pleasure filled your body as he sucked your left breast while massaging the other one, leaving a tingle on your stomach. It didn’t take long before his lips connected on yours, slipping his tongue, letting out another moan. He moves his mouth down to your neck once again, sucking it while his other hand is trailing down your back.

His fingers travel down on the waistband of your underwear, leaving soft kisses. “I’ve always wondered how your bare body looks, and it’s exactly how I imagine. So sexy and gorgeous.” He played with the waistband of your underwear before he slowly pulled it down, leaving you gasping.

You’re at the verge of crying when he spreads your legs apart, exposing your bare pussy, leaning down and leaving a kiss on your pelvic bone. You tried to push your body deeper in the mattress to avoid his kisses, but he only grips your hips firmly to prevent yourself from moving. “Stop fighting, Y/N.” He said with a stone voice.

He leaves a last peck on your pelvic bone, moving down on your clit before he kisses it, leaving you panting. You resist yourself from whimpering but when he slides a tongue on your clit, you groan. You were fighting the pleasure that you felt, but the more he keeps on licking your folds, the more your body burns.

"Fuck baby, you taste just like how I imagined it. So sweet for me."

You were disgusted at yourself for feeling something so good, and disgusted at him for doing this to you.

“You act like you don’t like what you feel, but with how wet you are, it only proves how you love this so much.” He said—almost sounds like a whimper. Your eyes widened when you felt his fingers circling your clit before he slowly inserted it inside. You moan so loud when he moves his fingers as he licks your clit and you cry with the burning sensation radiating to you.

You weren’t a virgin and you’ve hooked up several times, yet you can’t admit it to yourself that he was doing good eating you out.

“No matter how you say that you hate me, your body will never lie.” He whispers, as he drag his finger inside and out in a quicker motion.

No matter how you stop yourself from moaning, that sound escapes your mouth.

Pain leaves you when he pulls his fingers and when you look at him, he removes his shirt revealing his chiseled and sculpted body. He leans forward to slide his fingers inside your mouth, letting you taste yourself before he slides his tongue. A moan escaped you when he rubbed his fingers on your clit, feeling your wetness, before he inserted his finger once again.

You’re trying your best not to let out another moan but your body is betraying you because you were moaning in between his lips that you could feel his smirk.

“Don’t be hard on yourself and let yourself enjoy it, baby girl.”

After a few moments of him fucking your pussy with his fingers, your whimper as you reached your orgasm. You shred a tear when you realize how your own body betrays you.

He withdraws his fingers as he continues to suck your neck while his hands are circling to your waist down to your hips and grinding his body on you. He then pulls himself to take off the pants that he’s wearing as your body starts to tremble.

You stare at his movements as he pulls down his pants and you gasp when he pulls it down, completely exposing dick.

His huge, holy shit.

He strokes it and it arouses you even more. You hate yourself right now more than you hate him because you can’t believe that you’re craving it.

“Please Jungkook, don’t.” Your voice quivered with desperate pleading.

“Stop acting that you’re not enjoying it because your body says otherwise.” He scoffs before he kneels in between your body and pumps his dick, gripping it tightly.

“Spread your legs for me, baby girl.” He commands as he parts your legs. Your eyes widen when you feel that he’s rubbing his dick on your folds as your wetness overflows and a moan is released on your lips.

“That’s right, moan for me.” He said, almost sound like a whimper teasing you even more and it didn’t take long when he slid his dick inside you making your nails buried on his back.

“Fuck Y/N, you’re so tight!” He moaned as he went deeper. He placed his hand on your back and a pain filled you when he dug deeper. He was sucking your neck as he kept thrusting in and out. You were pulling his hair, as he groaned on every thrust he made. He stops from time to time to suck your nipples and kiss your lips, making you moan continuously.

"You're taking me so well, fuck. That's right, take me so well."

You’re starting to cry with the unwanted pleasure you feel but Jungkook only kisses your tears away. And with a hard thrust, you’re about to come. Your breath comes out heavily as you keep on whimpering with every thrust he does. Jungkook curses, his thrust becomes harder and you start to tremble.

“Yes baby, cum all over me and show me how much you enjoyed this.” His words almost sound like a whimper and it only motivates you to reach your second orgasm.

And when you did, you cried louder as he thrust harder and deeper for the last time.

—

You were lying on his bed without your clothes, while he was beside you, sleeping peacefully as if he hadn't disrespected you an hour ago. His bed was the softest and most comfortable you had ever experienced, its softness enveloping your body in a gentle embrace. However, all you could feel was disgust and anger at what he had done to you.

You should be running right now but your body froze and you can’t move them even an inch. It happened three times in a row, and you've been begging him to stop, but he doesn't listen, as if he were possessed by a devil. He's already a monster himself, but you didn't anticipate him forcing you to comply. Most especially, you loathe yourself because your body responds to his desires, leading him to believe that you genuinely enjoy what he's doing, but in reality, you're horrified.

The room is dark, and the moon casts its enchanting glow upon it. You're gazing at the full glass window, where the distant city lights flicker in the distance. An emotional numbness envelopes you, leaving you unstable and broken.

You slowly turn towards the person beside you, and as expected, he's asleep. You can't believe how different he appears when he's sleeping, nothing like the person you know. Instead, he resembles a man who wouldn't harm a soul when his eyes are closed. However, the burning anger you feel hasn't subsided. You can never forget what he has done to you.

The anger surged within you and you wanted to lash out, to make him feel the same pain he has caused you. You clenched your fist and the thought of killing him gnawed at the edges of your sanity.

You looked around to find something to protect yourself from him. Slowly, you raised yourself from lying down, careful not to make any movements that might wake him up. With trembling hands, you reach your dress from the floor and put it on before scanning the room.

You've been here for quite some time, but this is the first occasion you've had to observe his entire room. As expected, his room is quite spacious, yet you can't discern the color of the walls as darkness covers the entire space. Your eyes catch a glimpse of a chest of drawers in the corner of the room, and above it, there are photographs adorning the wall. As you take a step closer, your heart rate quickens upon seeing the photos that are affixed to the wall.

The room might be dark but it’s evident that the polaroid photos on the wall are you. There are a lot of photos of you and they are a mix of a photo from your social media accounts and a photo that he took without you noticing it.

He’s been stalking you for a quite long time already.

A memory comes back when you’ve felt that someone is looking at you or when you’ve felt like he’s around and you brush it all away believing that you were wrong but it all makes sense because he’s been stalking you and you don’t have any idea of it.

Your trembling hands worsened as your jaw clenched, turning around with your eyes glared at his sleeping figure.

Your anger consumes you, and with every fiber of your being, a raw, primal fury pulses, urging you to harm him. As your rage intensifies, a dark abyss opens in your mind, and your thoughts race. You take a step toward the bed where he's lying down as your heart thunders in your chest.

‘You fucking monster.’

Even if there isn’t enough light, you still manage to look around to find something. You returned to the chest drawer opening it and you gasped as you saw more photos inside. You didn’t try to look at them one by one focusing on finding something.

‘I will fucking kill you’

From the drawer, you walked around and opened every cabinet inside his room to find something you’re looking for and when you did, your body suddenly froze.

A gun.

With your heavy breaths and trembling hand, you took it out from the drawer and took a moment to stare at it.

But before you’ve processed everything, you heard a voice speak.

“My little Y/N, what do you think you’re doing?”

You immediately stood up, turned around, and saw Jungkook standing 7 feet away from you. The room was so dark that you couldn't see his face, but you could make out his silhouette. He was wearing pants but nothing on top.

You pointed the gun at him but he only laughed it out. Your entire body froze as you pointed the gun firmly on him and your heartbeat echoed loudly on your ears. Your breath came short, as if your lungs were struggling to keep up with your racing thoughts.

He walked slowly toward the bedside table and switched on the lamp, causing the room to fill with a warm glow. It wasn't very bright, but it was enough for both of you to see each other.

He grins as he sees that you stepped back, holding the gun firmer when he took a step towards you.

You’re shaking so bad but you can’t hold your guards down because anything can happen in just a matter of seconds.

“What, you’re gonna shoot me after I satisfy you?” He said with a grin on his lips.

“I’m going to kill you.” Your voice is low but every word you say is sharp enough to show that you’re serious but he only scoffed at your words.

“Really, you’re going to do that?” His voice was seductive, provoking you even more.

You try to find any signs of fear on his face but you find nothing. Instead, it only worsens your emotions. You weren’t sure if the gun that you’re holding is loaded and you only pray that it does.

It’s your first time holding a gun and you don't have any idea of how to use it but your life is in danger and you have to act accordingly.

You cocked the gun and pointed it out at him once again.

“Do you even know how to use that?” He pouted as if he cares but it was full of mockery and sarcasm.

“Don’t come near me.” You whispered as you held the gun firmly.

“Come on Y/N, don’t embarrass yourself.” He took a step back and sat at the edge of the bed, while his eyes were on you. “We both know that you aren't capable of doing that. Didn’t I satisfy you enough?”

“Shut up.”

“As far as I remember, you love it so much when I eat you out. Did I think that wrong?” He rested his hand on the mattress behind him. “I love every reaction that you make when you feel so good. I love it when you dig your nails on my skin because you can’t contain the stimulation. And by how you feel so weak with my touch and kiss–

“Shut the fuck up!”

Your heart raced, your body trembled and a cold sweat broke out on your forehead. your thoughts worsen into chaos and an overwhelming dread washed over you. You can’t take the words he said. You just wanted him to shut up.

He stares at you with so much intensity, like he can see through your soul. “You should’ve checked if the gun was loaded, babe.” He commented shifting his gaze to the gun you’re holding.

You shook your head as you pressed your lips firmly. “You monster. I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Then kill me,” He spoke in his low voice. “Shoot me, Y/N.” He slowly stands up and walks towards you, making you step backwards. You panicked even more but you tried your best to stay still and point the gun towards him.

“Show me how brave you are, Dr. Y/N.” Your back bumps into the cabinet behind you when there is no more space for you to step back as you were shaking so badly and you can no longer hold your tears. He pressed his chest on the muzzle of the gun while looking at you with so much intensity.

In the blink of an eye, he firmly grabs your arm, attempting to wrest the gun from your grip, but you hold it even more tightly. You push him using your elbow, but he chokes you, and you tremble in pain. He's strong, but your determination is unwavering, and you won't lose to him this time.

You step forcefully onto his right foot, and when he shows his weakness, you swiftly break free from his grasp. However, he manages to trip you, causing you to fall and drop the gun.

You immediately crawl to get the gun but he pulled your leg away from it.

“You can never escape me, Y/N!” He spoke as his hands circled around your neck.

Your eyes were starting to blur, preventing you from seeing anything for a few moments. A sense of helplessness washed over you until your eyes caught the gun a few inches away from you. He was focused on choking you to death while you’re focused on reaching the gun. Desperation clouded your thoughts, urging you to stay stronger and when you finally reached the gun, you immediately pulled the trigger in his direction.

You stood up when he released you, as a searing pain tore through his body upon being struck by the bullet, leaving him gasping for breath. You held the gun firmly while he endured the pain in his rib that had been hit by a bullet.

You cocked the gun one more time and pointed at him.

You panted heavily as a panic gripped you, the inability to catch your breath adding to the rising sense of fear. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself not to let a sound escape his lips.

He pressed his hand on his rib, looking at you with the same eyes that you despise so much. Despite being shot, he can still manage to look at you with mockery.

"Do you believe that after what you've done, you have already… won?" He smirks as he slowly falls on the ground, enduring his physical pain. “I was in your position months ago. Holding a… gun as I shoot my mother. How ironic that the person… who tried to heal me was also the person… who would try to kill me.” He felt an agonizing, relentless throbbing at the site of the gunshot trying to ease the pain. He tried to stand up before he continued. “You’ve said a lot of times that my actions are… bad but look at you right now… Doing the same… thing.”

“We’re not the same!” You shouted, holding the gun with your two hands. “You ruin my life, you monster!” You felt a seething rage, a burning intensity that threatened to overtake you.

He only smirks at your response. “Really? Because last time I checked… I shoot my mother for being the monster that she is.”

“Don’t you dare compare yourself to me!” Your fingers were trembling, itching to pull the trigger.

“You might keep on denying it but we both know the truth.” Even in his situation, he can still play with a sinister smile on his lips.

“You’re fucking wrong—

“Come on, Y/N! Look at you!” His eyes blazed with fiery, smirking at you as he cut you off. “You’re just like me! We’re really meant to be!” You are consumed by fury, your thoughts a turbulent storm of anger as his sinister laugh triggers you even more. Your heart pounded in your chest, tears streaming down your cheek and without you noticing it, you’re shooting him continuously.

“Fuck you! Motherfucker!”

You continue to curse and pull the trigger even though he's already lying on the ground. Your anger blinds you to the point where you can no longer process your actions.

“I’m not like you! I’m fucking not like you!” You screamed along with every shot you made. Your heart pounded on your chest, as your words dripped with outrage. The only time you stop is when the gun is out of bullets.

The room was surrounded by blood as you observed his lifeless body lying on the ground. You couldn't recall how many times you had shot him, but judging by the considerable amount of blood scattered about, it was evident that you had shot him numerous times.

Your vision swam before you, blurring the edges of reality as the world around you seemed to spin. You glance at the gun you’re holding and you immediately drop it off. Your whole body trembled uncontrollably, making you collapse on the floor.

Blood. There’s a lot of blood.

The surroundings fell into an eerie silence and a chill ran down your spine. You're suddenly suffocated by fear as you crawl backward.

He’s dead. I killed him.

The only thing that you hear is the ticking sound of the clock and nothing else. You slowly look around but the only thing you see is blood.

“But look at you right now, doing the same thing.”

“You’re just like me! We’re really meant to be!”

You covered your ears as you heard him. He was dead but you can still hear his sinister voice.

“You can never escape me, Y/N!”

“STOP!”

—

The horizon blazed with a rich, golden hue as the sun's first rays pierced the darkness. Birds whistled as the day began. The air, now filled with the promise of warmth and life and with each passing moment, the sky emerged from its darkness.

Yet the horror you’ve made is still there.

You’re under the glass window, watching the world to start its day. The room is still covered in blood–your body is still covered in blood. The sun has risen yet you wanted to stay in the dark. You don’t know what to do anymore.

You suddenly heard the ringtone of your phone, making you feel more vulnerable. You covered your ears to prevent yourself from hearing it yet the sound seems to hunt you.

After the call dies, you thought that it won’t ring again but before you can even have a peace of mind, it rang once again.

Your legs tremble when you stand up. You do your best not to look at the corpse laying on the ground as you walk out of the room.

His living room is exactly how it looked the last time you saw it. You look around to see any living thing but you sense nothing. Your phone is still ringing when you spot it on the top of the dining table where you ate last night.

Where he forced you to drink a wine that made you weak.

Tears welled up in your eyes when you saw the caller’s ID.

It was your best friend.

It was Taehyung.

“Thank god you answered! Where the hell are you?! I’ve been calling you since last night but you aren’t answering! You’re gonna kill me for worrying to you!”

Hearing his voice broke you down. Your tears flowed continuously as an uncontrollable emotion poured out on you.

“Y/N, what happened? Why are you crying?” A deep concern is evident in his voice.

You were shaking, crying with broken sobs as you covered your mouth in an attempt to calm down.

“Y/N! Speak up! What’s wrong?!”

“Tae… Please help me.” You attempt to speak.

“Where are you? I’m going there.”

“Taehyung.”

“Y/N, what happened?”

“I made a grave sin.”

“What?”

Your wailing sobs echoed through the whole area as you fell on your knees. He keeps asking what happened but you’re having a hard time admitting it.

“Y/N, how am I going to help you if you can’t tell me?”

After a few moments, you started to calm down. Your sobs gradually subsided, a quiet hiccup escaped you as you closed your eyes briefly.

“I killed a man.” The words escape your lips and a new set of tears forms on your eyes.

You never thought that you would resort to killing him. Out of all the things that happened, you wanted to end everything without harming anyone. You’re a well-known psychiatrist who has an advocacy that despite of who you are and what you’ve become, your mental health matters.

You know yourself well. You know your strengths and weaknesses, and the cause of your happiness and sadness. But that’s what you thought.

You can’t control your emotions.

No matter how you try, you will always have a hard time controlling it.

There are a lot of reasons why people act without thinking when they are emotional. According to a study, physiologically, emotions can activate the body's fight-or-flight response. When emotions trigger this response, stress hormones like adrenaline flood the system, preparing the body to respond to perceived threats. This physiological reaction can reduce the ability to think clearly and may lead to impulsive actions.

“Where are you?” After a long pause, Taehyung finally spoke.

“At Jeon Jungkook’s place. One of my patients.” You respond in a low voice.

“Message me the exact address and I’ll be right there.”

You weren’t in your right mind when you pulled the trigger. You didn’t like what happened.

Therefore, you weren’t just like him.

It was his fault, after all.

-end-

a/n: finally, it's complete! Thank you so much for joining me in writing this JK fic. It's my first time delving into the thriller genre, and I've truly enjoyed the experience. I also hope that you all enjoy reading it as well. Have a great day, everyone!

taglist: @idkjustlovingbts @koohrs @minshookie29 @aajjks @softie00 @exquisite-bands @kingofbodyrolls @floralflowexs @oopscoop @yoonjinhusbands @ash07128 @kookiesbunny @cinnikoi @yluv-damara-13 @hoseoksluv89 @darkuni63 @iloverubberduckiez-blog @fangirl-death-rose @looneybleus

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randombush3 · 8 months ago

Text

a sense of coming home

ona batlle x reader

summary: part two of this! ona and you are (frustratingly) still just friends

words: 6.5k (i have NO idea why i waffle so much but lets pls allow it)

warnings: there's like five secs of smut at the end

notes: this has been the most self-indulgent fic i've written because this is how i met my gf and so i am glad to show you a nice happy ending

again, the quote is from 'this side of paradise' (said gf's fav book - i don't recommend however because the protagonist is a twat)

also i didn't proofread bc i am exhausted and i am hungover and i am very ready to go to sleep (#globetrotting is not for the weak) x

There is something difficult about forcing oneself back to their toxic roots. Ona discovers as such as she presses her body into a temple of meaningless sex, but she does so because she is a driven person. Ona is determined to get over you, once and for all, except she’d quite like to stay friends (hence why she agreed when asked). She also thinks it would expose her to fall out because her feelings shouldn’t have existed anyway, so she technically shouldn’t be heartbroken?

Anyway, Ona rampages through Manchester! They appreciate her accent – some even ask her to speak to them in Spanish when she is three fingers deep inside of them, to which she obliges with little fanfare – and it isn’t like the city lacks queer women. It is a super solid way to keep her busy, to tear her attention from hungrily checking your Instagram whenever possible.

It’s also what lands her with coronavirus. She’s embarrassed to admit just how many people she has come into contact with when the club doctors ask her questions over the phone.

You send her a lovely message after hearing she is yet another fallen soldier.

Ona is at home, isolating, and you are apparently trapped in Spain, unable to get into Italy. You haven’t quite made it to your parents’ house since your flight was supposed to depart from Madrid. “How come you’re not on the phone to one of your ‘connections’?” Ona asks suspiciously, wondering why this call has lasted longer than ten minutes. “Surely someone knows someone else and they can get you back home.”

“I’m hardly out of my depth in my own country,” you remind her with a twinging sigh, pained that she has suppressed all memories of your childhood. “It’s not like I don’t speak Spanish.”

“Didn’t you get rid of it in your head to make space for Italian and English? Oh, and French too, right? That’s where the fashion weeks are.”

You laugh at her pride for knowing something about your job, but it is not to ridicule her. “I am speaking to you, aren’t I?”

“In Catalan,” she points out. “Forget Spanish, but don’t forget Catalan.”

“I can’t. It’s the language everyone uses to tell me about how fucked you’ve been lately.” You take in a deep breath, uncomfortable with Ona’s silence but knowing your piece needs to be said. “Are you aware of what happened a few months ago? Why I missed the wedding?” One of your friends met her dream man and he whisked her off to Menorca for a small ceremony. Only the people she loved the most were invited, which included your childhood friend group. “We were in New York, a whole bunch of us. It was late but the show had been a big deal so we went out to celebrate, and… these ‘friends’, these people, they aren’t the same as you and me. Most of them are English, you know, and they come from very fancy schools where addiction is normal. Two of them ended up in the hospital that night – the bag hadn’t even made it round to me by the time they’d dropped. I know it seems far-fetched, but all I’m trying to say is that addiction has consequences. Bad consequences.”

“So you’re not on my side?” Ona isn’t taking this too seriously. A few people have joked about her questionable new hobby, but no one has made it seem so dire that they have needed to get you involved. You who, of course, Ona will listen to.

“I am always on your side.”

That is her main take-away from the conversation, Ona chooses, when it ends an hour later. She swoons, meaning the last twenty women have been a waste of time, but she also tortures herself into ignoring the potential problem. Being a sex addict would be embarrassing, so she won’t be.

Though your subtle shaming for her abundance of quick-fix flings is hypocritical, Ona would also hate for you to see her that way. You can avoid commitment all you like, but she is determined to be different to prove to you that she is a viable candidate, should you wish to stop stringing her along. It’s probably toxic; it probably means that you are both clinging onto a friendship that should either end or be labelled something else. It probably is the push and pull that has kept you interested, Ona thinks, because she knows that you like the chase.

However, as much as she’d like to be freed of whatever game she is caught up in, she can’t seem to let you go like that.

…

The next time Ona and you have a proper conversation about something other than how your love lives have been stunted or how people back home are not as successful as the two of you is when most of the restrictions have been lifted.

You waited out the pandemic in Vilassar de Mar, much to your annoyance, but now that you can travel again, the first person on your mind to visit is your childhood best friend. You’re not as close as you used to be, having drifted further during even more years apart, but it does not dull your love for her, nor hers for you.

Ona has changed her mind about Manchester and is forcing herself to like it. It works enough for a visit from you to be the last thing on her mind, and so she slows her response time down until the next arranged date to see each other in person is all set for the summer before the Euros in England.

You’re not quite home but you are in the country, and, with the pre-Euros camp in two days, Ona is spending the final few hours of calm left before the storm in the comforting presence of her mum and dad.

And… you, apparently.

“You weren’t supposed to be here yet,” is Ona’s greeting when she opens the front door.

Your smile is wide and genuine, and you are holding a gift bag in one hand. There is a nice bottle of wine in the other. “Not even an ‘hola’?” When no reply comes, you swallow the emotions that have arisen; the ones that are maybe, just a little bit to do with how soft Ona looks with her hair down. And the slope of her jaw. And the ghosts of defined biceps that bulge even when she isn’t flexing her arms. “I’m dropping by to see your parents. I thought you were in Barcelona with your footballer friends.”

“You visit my parents?” asks Ona curiously.

“Of course.”

With that, you side-step her and call out to her mother, announcing both your arrival and your desire to hand them their gifts. Dinner is just about to be served, and Ona is soon tasked with setting another place at the table for you as though the last ten years had never happened and your friendship hadn’t lost its innocence.

Maybe it would be better for Ona to not know what it feels like to kiss you, to touch you, to – dare she think it – love you. It would certainly make things less painful, and would have saved her from catching at least one illness and spending a good amount of money on Ubers to escape from random apartments. It would make it easier to listen to you talk about your life in Milan, where you seem to exist in a bubble of incredibly attractive people who are desperate to hold hands and form a raft.

“Modelling can be brutal,” you agree, nodding at Ona’s father as you follow on from his concerns about your career. He voices them regularly; whenever you see him. Ona realises you have spent a lot of time with her parents without her. “It gets quite competitive between the girls so I’ve been somewhat avoiding them. They’ve brought in someone new, scouted from Germany, I think, and I’m a little worried that I’ll have to switch agencies if they start prioritising her.” You glance at Ona, wanting to know if she is listening, hoping she is. You wish that she were as good at suppressing her feelings as you are. You wish she didn’t look at you like you hung the moon, because you know that you have to tell her you have hung it for someone else. “I’d move tomorrow, to be honest, but I’ve started seeing this guy and he’s convincing me to stay in Milan.”

“The minute he is your boyfriend, you bring him here,” commands Ona’s mother in a tone she hasn’t yet used on her actual daughter (said daughter has never mentioned anyone before). “Show us a picture of him! Is he a model like you?”

He is, and if Ona holds her fork tighter after she sees the photo you pull up, that is her business. You secretly take in her clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows, and this might be the worst thing you have ever had to do. To see her so defeated, so hopeless, is upsetting, especially since you are harbouring the same feelings. However, you are able to admit when it is time to throw the towel in, and you can no longer live like this.

Ona is too perfect for you. She is driven, hard-working, and funny. She likes to nutmeg little children on the street, and she likes to buy them an ice-cream if they slip a goal past her, slotting the flat footballs into imaginary nets and celebrating as though they have just won the Champions League. She knows a lot, more than she thinks she does. She cares about people, but sometimes it manifests in anger, in frustration.

Any aspect of her is an aspect that you could love, and that is reason enough not to. Because how can you allow yourself to taint such perfection?

But, in this unspoken rejection, the compliment is obscured from the recipient’s view. All Ona sees when you gush about how he buys you flowers and takes you out to dinner, is a burning, bright question. It flashes red and yellow, both as a warning and cry for attention. How can she compete if you don’t even recognise her as a competitor?

…

“--And then they proceeded to finish a film they were halfway through as if it were the most normal thing ever,” Ona rants the minute she hits the concrete of Las Rozas, walking into the facility with Aitana and the other girls who travelled with her from Barcelona. Only the midfielder has been gracious enough to listen to the entire monologue, but the others joke that that is because Ona’s emotional state has led her to spiral in her native language. It is forbidden for them to openly speak Catalan in the Spanish camp, according to Jorge Vilda, who loves to hurl a ‘we can send you back to where you came from in an instant’ their way if he so much as hears a ‘bon dia’. Naturally, Aitana doesn’t give a fuck about the rule, although Ona chooses to believe that she is listening because she cares.

“Are you done?” Aitana asks thoughtfully, sucking on her bottom lip as she tries to absorb her friend’s crisis and formulate a valid, sensible response. The two have known each other for a while now, and Aitana remembers a time when Ona was relentlessly teased by their older teammates for being in love with her best friend. It is clear to her that those feelings never ceased, though she has heard through the grapevine (Leila Ouahabi) that you are now a model and you live somewhere in Italy. You’re part Italian, is what Leila also claims, having professed your ethnicity to a small huddle of fellow gossipers one day in the gym at the Barça training facility.

“No! Nothing is ever done with her. It’s viscous and it continues in a horrid cycle that has me flapping around in circles like some idiot. I am one of her boys.” Ona groans dramatically, the sound perhaps a little too loud. A few of the girls in front of them turn around to see why a cat seems to have been strangled, but they quickly lose interest when they see it is just Ona and her disastrous situation. “Do you know how fucking humiliating it is to be one of her guys? I am a professional footballer! I play for Manchester United, one of the most historic clubs in the world, and I am about to represent my country in a major tournament. I am successful, Aita, and yet I am still not enough for her.”

“Maybe she only likes men.”

“A man has never made her scream like I have,” she bites back. Aitana blushes, but Ona is too far gone in her rage to hear her crudeness nor preserve her friend’s sanity. “She’s been like this since she decided she was gay! Isn’t that hilarious? ‘Ona, I think I’m gay’, she said. I know lesbian breakups can be hard, but there is no way my cousin fucked her up to this extent.”

“I can’t help you with this, Oni,” Aitana laments, sorry to have to confess this to her friend. “I think you need to talk to her about it. A proper conversation to fix long-term issues, not like the ones you obviously had when agreeing to stop having sex and things like that. Only she knows what she’s thinking.” It is definitely not the advice Ona wants to hear, but she cannot deny the midfielder’s wisdom. “But for now, we focus on winning.”

…

You are more than a little confused.

To start from the beginning, Ona’s cousin fucked you up. She broke your heart, and that first impression of dating girls was incredibly traumatising. With girls, you don’t just kiss and sleep with them, you get close – really close – and then when you break up, it is like you have lost both a girlfriend and a best friend.

Men are a lot simpler. Men like you and they aren’t shy about it. They can sometimes be just as cruel, but you have never felt invested enough to care too much.

Some nights, you don’t fall asleep, tossing and turning between your sexual identity, aware that you don’t need to label it but desperate to… discover yourself. If you don’t understand that part of you, how will someone else? How can you be loved? How do you even know who you want to love you?

For as much as Milan is great, it definitely doesn’t help you with your crisis. Girls in Milan like to do what they want. It is not uncommon for the models to kiss each other in clubs, in front of appreciative male gazes or not, and then reveal their engagement to their future husband the very next day. It’s easy to be drawn into such a bubble, but the minute you step out of it, you are hit with the real world.

It’s what makes the pandemic so distressing for you personally, because you are forced to live like normal people for some time. Your eyes are held open and the question is shoved down your throat, and it really doesn’t help that Ona’s cousin never moved out of Vilassar de Mar.

She sees you one day, saying hello from a suitable distance as you pick up milk as per your mother’s request. “I heard you’re modelling?” she asks with no agenda, no seductive glint in her eye. You notice the ring on her finger, and she feels the heaviness of your staring. “Oh, I got married a year ago. Did Ona not tell you?”

You realise that you and Ona try to avoid talking about anything other than the love interests you have. “No, she didn’t. Congratulations, though. She’s a lucky woman.”

“You don’t have to pretend you’re happy for me,” laughs the woman opposite you, amused and somewhat apologetic. “Look, I’m really sorry for how I acted when we were younger. I was definitely not the most mature person out there, and I know I hurt you.”

“I cried for months.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeats. You suck in a deep breath, trying to hold the memories of your pain at bay. “The first breakup is usually the worst but at least it gets better, as you probably know.”

She looks at you expectantly, awaiting your confirmation. It never comes.

“I haven’t dated another girl since,” you tell her, sounding rather detached from yourself.

Her eyebrows furrow and she is clearly frowning behind her facemask. “What about Ona? I thought you were together when you lived in Madrid. It takes more than a friendship to do what you did.”

You were originally going to go to university in England. It was your dream, and Ona wasn’t entirely aware of the situation because you hadn’t wanted to tell her you were leaving. Then she was sent out on a professional contract to Madrid, and it wasn’t like you were the only one leaving.

Ona’s cousin, years ago, had suggested that you go to Madrid if you wanted to get away from Vilassar de Mar. “You’ll be close enough to come home when you’d like, but not so close that you’ll feel as though nothing has changed,” she had said.

No one had known about your offers in England aside from your parents. And Ona’s cousin, who’d only found out because you had called her, drunk on celebratory champagne, because you had to tell someone.

“You gave up a dream for her because you didn’t want her to be alone.”

“I moved to Milan. In the end, she was alone.”

“You sound like you regret it,” she replies, nodding once at you to bid you farewell and then heading over to a woman who is standing with a puppy in her arms. You watch as she pulls down her mask and kisses her wife, her eyes shining with love and happiness, and your blood runs green with jealousy.

You hate Ona’s cousin for devastating you once more.

Do you regret it?

It’s unclear.

You try to make sense of it when you don’t hesitate to fly back to Italy the minute you can, going home to lick your wounds at Ona’s non-committal response to meeting you when you are in London the next month. It hurts that she is no longer at your beck-and-call, but you are somewhat happy for her. You know that lines have been crossed and that she has suffered for it. You know that you are probably the one at fault here.

This time in Milan, you don’t fight it as much. You kiss other girls and let them go home to their boyfriends; you submit to the thing you had convinced yourself you would never become.

As you drive yourself deeper and deeper into your stereotype, the thought of Ona gets pushed away and newer, more culturally-acceptable fantasies come to mind.

It takes a photoshoot for him to ask you out on a date.

It takes returning home and gaining the approval of Ona’s parents (who are far more open than your own) for you to agree to be official.

You don’t ask Ona what she thinks. She’s busy, you reason, because she is representing Spain at the Euros. She won’t care who you are dating and she certainly doesn’t need it rubbed in her face.

There are many reasons why you go out with him.

One is that you do like him; he’s nice, he’s funny, he treats you well. (He’s not Ona.) Another is that rent is going up and him sharing the load is helpful. (He’s not Ona.) There is also that he is very popular within the agency, and your chemistry on camera is enough to keep your jobs rolling in and casting directors satisfied.

He’s not Ona. You know that.

That's the whole point.

If he were Ona, you’d be deeply in love with him. If he were Ona, you would never leave the house, never leave his embrace, never leave the little bubble created when it is just the two of you and no one else. If he were Ona, you would be excited about the conversations he gently guides you into; marriage, children, where you are going to live one day. You’d miss him more when he isn’t here. You’d care.

But you just… don’t.

Another year passes, more Ona-less than the last, and then she is suddenly coming back home to Barcelona, a medal around her neck and word of a relationship floating above her head.

You could ask her about it if you wanted to because she is still one of your closest friends, but the truth is, you really, desperately don’t want to hear it. While Ona has been falling in love with someone else, you have been proving your stupid feelings to yourself.

The act (your current relationship) lowers enough for you to go home for Christmas. You leave Milan as though fleeing from a hurricane, and you refuse to control the damage until you have entered the new year. Your parents aren’t entirely sure they want you moping about the house, confused how someone so successful can revert to a moody teenager the minute they are back in safe territory, and they heavily encourage you to accept an invite that was extended out to you a few months ago.

Your friends are going skiing in Andorra, and they’d like for you to come with them.

“Ona won’t be there,” one of them regretfully informs you. “She said she doesn’t want to make things weird. She has a girlfriend – or, I don’t know, a talking stage. She wants you to have fun.”

“But Ona and I are friends,” you try to explain, feeling exposed by the look of pity she gives you; the same look someone receives when they find out their ex has gotten married or something similar. As a defensive mechanism, you hastily pull out your phone and dial her number. Everyone watches you, now uninterested in their food as you dine and plan your holiday.

Ona picks up on the third ring, escaping her dinner with Lucy and rushing into the cool, nighttime air of Barcelona.

“Hi?” she says – asks – with raised eyebrows, wondering if you’re in danger.

“You’re coming skiing with us, aren’t you?”

Your friends hide their laughs behind their hands, surprised by how firm your tone is. You do not need it for Ona, because she does anything you say regardless, but they enjoy seeing this side of you. This is someone who has had to fend for herself in a foreign country.

Removing the phone from her ear for a moment, Ona sighs, disappointed in herself.

“Yeah, of course. I’ve missed you, you know.”

…

Skiing is not something Ona is really allowed to do. As a footballer, her legs are what pay her wage. Career-destroying planks of metal are not the best way to spend the dying embers of the year. She knows that. She does, she swears, but she is so eager to go that Jonatan cannot crush her dreams. He tells her, “if you get injured your contract will be reviewed, Ona Batlle,” and she promises him that it won’t happen. Nothing bad is going to happen.

It will be the first time she has spent more than a day with her childhood friends, and she is unbelievably excited.

Lucy finds it adorable and makes it known, helping her pack for her trip, versed in what to bring because her sister skis or something like that (Ona can’t really focus on her almost-girlfriend's monologue). Lucy likes Ona a lot, and it makes her stomach flutter when she thinks about Ona and her friends talking about them. She’s sure her feelings are reciprocated, and she cannot wait for Ona to return to her in the new year, all smiles and lingering hangovers, and ask her to be her girlfriend. Officially.

Your friends convene in the centre of Vilassar de Mar with two cars between you. There are ten people coming.

Someone, most-likely trying to keep the peace, instructs Ona into one vehicle and you into the other. The drive isn’t too long, but you suppose that the tension is uncomfortable for those who aren’t accustomed to maintaining a friendship despite the weight of it.

It’s five days, and you are determined to have fun.

Ona is naturally good at this, although she claims it is her first time. You, living in Milan, are just as advanced.

By the third day, the both of you agree that going off together to do some of the harder runs will be harmless. Spending the day together won’t feel like a date or a romantic holiday. Watching Ona glide over the compacted snow won’t be attractive, watching her cocky smirk as she scales the bumps along the side of the piste won’t do anything.

It won’t. (It does.)

And it just has to be the third day that someone pulls out two bottles of tequila and a drinking game that is going to ensure every single one of you is off your face by midnight.

In rooms opposite one another, you and Ona call your respective partners and tell them about how great a time you are having, actively avoiding telling them about who you spent the day with as though it counts as cheating. It doesn’t, technically. Nothing has happened. But, still, it feels intimate and secret; forbidden.

Then, there is a shout that rings through the house. Everyone comes to the table; the party has begun.

Ona finds out that she is absolutely terrible at drinking games, and loses in every way possible.

You find out that she is still just as touchy when she is drunk.

Your friends try not to comment on it, all having agreed upon yet another passive role in such an irritating situation. Their non-interference almost ceases by the time Ona climbs onto your lap, head turning as she whispers something into your drunk ears, making you laugh privately. In fact, someone has to hold someone else back before they shout at the two of you to make out or break up.

But it’s not really necessary, their prompting, because it hits a certain hour and… nothing else matters anymore.

Ona has been touching you the whole night and you have finally reached your limit.

Boyfriend be damned, you lead her to your bedroom.

She asks you many times if you still want this, and you cannot think of anything to say other than ‘yes’.

You’re not as drunk as she is, and you both know that, but everything feels so perfect and right.

When you wake up the next morning, your anger is more at yourself than the sleeping woman beside you, but she is an outward target for such a boiling emotion and it just makes things easier.

“Ona.” You shake her awake, not caring for her hangover. “Ona, I can’t believe we’ve done this.” She rubs her eyes, dazed and confused for a moment but coming to her senses soon enough. “I have a boyfriend, Ona, and… I don’t like you like that.”

It’s not true.

It’s really, really, really not true, but the fact that you have said it is enough for Ona to leave your room with the intention of never seeing you again.

She gets the train back to Barcelona, turning up at Lucy’s flat in floods of tears, and barrels straight into those strong arms with the intention of never mentioning what she has done.

…

You break up with your boyfriend a month later. Or rather, he breaks up with you, tired of being messed around, tired of your hesitation to fully commit.

The break-up is not the most upsetting thing you’ve been through, but your ego is a little bruised.

You try to make it look like you are having a great time in Milan, even though the agency has once again discarded your file and overlooked you for shoots you used to book in an instant. You try to seem like things aren’t falling apart, but it’s of no use when your father calls you and tells you that your mother is ill.

It isn’t cancer but it’s similar, and you know that you need to come home.

You pack your bags and leave without a second thought, because maybe Madrid was far enough. Maybe there is a reason Ona signed for her home club again and most of your friends still live relatively close to their parents.

Maybe you are not meant to be separated from those you love, because running away is futile if you are always going to end up together again.

In Barcelona, a modelling agency eagerly draws up a contract with you. Although you are from there, your career being based in Milan previously creates an international allure about you (or so they say), and you are assured that work is going to rush towards you as though someone has just knocked down a dam.

Your job is secured, your mother begins treatment, but there is something you cannot shake off.

It hurts to think of Ona, to think of how you left things, but it helps, too. Seeing her face in your mind is comforting. You hear her voice as you drift off to sleep, and you let it soothe you in your dreams.

“Ona has a girlfriend,” her mother tells you when you next visit them. Her frown is unexpected because all she has ever wanted is for her children to be happy and loved. “It’s not right, it doesn’t feel right.” You begin to shrug your shoulders and crawl into your shell, but she interrupts your thought process; “I think you should go see her.”

“Why?”

The woman rolls her eyes. “Just do what I say.”

You nod because she is so scarily sure about it, and you… It’s hard to believe, but you call Ona.

She picks up.

“I was sorry to hear about your mum.”

“Don’t worry. She’s fine.”

“Are you back at home?”

“Yeah, I am.” You pause. “Well, not quite. I’m living in Barcelona.”

Something fizzes in the air; pops, crackles.

“Need me to show you around the city?”

And it’s Ona, so how could you say no?

…

Your visit goes very well.

She takes you out to dinner and shows you around her neighbourhood. She introduces you when she runs into people she knows, and she is insistent about dragging you to her football match on the weekend.

Everything is seemingly forgiven and Ona is intent on integrating you back into her life.

She wants you to feel at home, though she knows you should already, and she wants to lessen the stress of hospital appointments and death and, if not death, then a difficult recovery.

You are sitting in her apartment – now devoid of all signs of Lucy – on her comfortable sofa, watching something together after a day of walking around and sealing up the cracks that formed in Andorra.

Sitting leads into cuddling and then into wandering hands that eagerly roam underneath layers of fabric.

Ona’s breath hitches as you brush the hard lines of her abs, your hands particularly drawn to them and just how strong she has become. “You must have only felt them on men,” she offers as an explanation. “How many have you slept with in comparison to–?”

And your hands stop.

“Sorry,” Ona mumbles, seemingly upset at her outburst. “I’m just curious. I can’t work you out.” She can’t quite look you in the eye, mainly due to the logistics of your position, but she isn’t sure she wants to see the truth attached to her statement.

You question if that’s a good thing, the fact she needs to ask; the fact that she has no choice but to communicate. It was going to happen sooner or later. “A few,” is what you settle on. Ona leaves it at that, carefully pulling the hair tie from your plait, unravelling it with one hand as the other rests against your stomach in an embrace. You smile. “You’re not going to ask who?”

Her fingers stop for a moment. “No.” She speaks so quietly, her voice almost a whisper in your ear. “I don’t care about them.” You relax into her more, feeling her against your back, feeling the softness of the blanket against your feet as it hangs at the edge of the sofa.

“Who do you care about, then?”

“You.”

Carefully, both her hands hold your hips and she sits you up, smiling as she does. You tell her she’s showing off, she replies that you are always showing off. To that, you brush those hands from your sides and lean down to kiss her, more decidedly for once; more in control. It’s a surprising feeling for both of you, the forcefulness. Urgency. Not unfamiliar, but unexpected for this time on this day.

The last time you kissed Ona, you had a boyfriend.

Your mouth goes to her neck as soon as she decides that she wants her hands back on your hips, pushing you down into her lap. It’s now a competition, you think. She’s quickly coming completely undone by your kissing and biting, but you are not ignoring the feeling as she makes you grind down, makes you need that friction. “Fuck,” you moan in her ear. She grips you tighter.

You start to pull off her shirt having had enough of the grey between you, asking if it’s okay, if she’s sure she isn’t too tired. Her reply is, “take it off, god,” and then the removal of your clothes that get thrown just shy of the wine glasses set out on her coffee table. Leggings aren’t the most practical for impromptu sex, but she’s quick and smooth and someone who has definitely done that before.

With your bare chest on display and almost nothing between Ona and you, she lifts you up for a moment with the intention of flipping the two of you, getting you on your back. You pause for a moment, trying to decide if she’s doing it because she wants to or because she thinks that’s the only way to do it, but her hands are moving now, up your sides, round the front of your chest and you relax. She laughs quietly, amused, because the tension dissipates, dissolving like sweet, sweet sugar in hot coffee as soon as your legs wrap around her back.

Ona asks before she does it, picking you up and laying you back down without needing to part her lips from your own. You watch her as she sits up, body in between your thighs. “You’re going to just stay there?” She shakes her head. “I can top,” you tease, a stark contrast from how it was the last time you did this. Ona doesn’t like being told she can’t do something. However indirectly.

“Yeah?” You nod, biting the smirk out of your lips. “I don’t care.”

You are in the process of rolling your eyes when her cocky mouth is put to good use. Your underwear was taken off at some point earlier — you hadn’t realised. Ona’s head moves between your legs, up and down, your hand that isn’t holding onto the sofa in her hair, the soft waves lacing between your fingers.

She’s good at it; thorough, practised. Her tongue circles your clit for a moment before dipping into your entrance. Something about the cockiness of her movements, her tongue, her hand rubbing between her own legs, makes everything more surreal, more blissful. She moans softly, lips kissing their way up your body, hands no longer focused on herself. Instead, they take the place of her mouth, two fingers inside you as quickly as it takes for her to ask if you are okay to carry on. Your reply (“yes”) is cut off quickly by her mouth on yours, tongue swiping at your bottom lip in another question of permission. You can taste yourself on her.

At her command, you sit up, letting her pull you back onto her lap as she sucks at your neck. “Don’t leave any marks,” you warn as her teeth pull a whimper from your supposed stoicness. “I don’t want the makeup artists asking questions.” It comes out too late, because you feel her teeth graze your collarbone quickly, not painful, no, but something that feels so, so good. “Ona.” She sighs in disappointment and adjusts where you are in her lap, so your legs are either side of her thigh.

You find yourself rocking slowly, letting her savour your breasts between her hands and her mouth. She whispers that she wants to see you come, that you don’t need to hold back – not with her, not ever – so you start grinding down, harder, faster. Her hands drop back to your hips, guiding your movements, forcing you to slow down when she feels everything building up. Each time, you let out a “fuck” and attempt to go against her grip to get that friction. “Not just yet,” she mutters, no longer touching you anywhere other than where her hands meet your hips and her thigh presses between your legs.

“Fuck off, Ona,” you breathe, frustrated. “When, then?”

She slows the pace even more. “Can you last a little longer?” You look at her face, brushing away the strands of hair that have fallen over her eyes, ghosting your fingers along her cheek, running your thumb along her lips. She smiles again, eyes creasing slightly.

As her hands drop to cup your face, you say, “you’re beautiful.”

Ona blushes.

You look down at her exposed cleavage, nipples pebbled against the sports bra that is unusually low-cut. It might border on intense staring as you begin to grind against her with the intention of actually getting off now. She laughs, saying her eyes are higher up than that, but going back to her trail of kisses along your jaw nevertheless.

For what seems like longer than a few seconds, the build up finally stops, the tower toppling over in a rush of pleasure. Ona’s hands move your hips as your head drops to rest on her shoulder. She talks you through it, telling you that you look so pretty, telling you that she’s so turned on.

And that’s when she whispers it.

It has taken years to get to this moment, many of them filled with unnecessary suffering.

It has taken years but it does not matter.

Ona tells you that she loves you and that is when you have finally come home.

#woso x reader #woso #randombush3 #barca femeni #woso imagines #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #ona batlle smut

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