#and let me tell you this supervisor piss off every two seconds so I had to wait until he came back | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slightlymore · 4 years ago

Text

hardest to love

part of the ‘soulmates collection’

surgeon!doyoung x surgeon!fem reader

others: haechan, jaemin, jeno

genre: medical au (but the medical part is not heavy), romance, angst, smut, fantasy elements, “enemies” to lovers, mutual pining

warnings: +18, esplicit sexual content: doyoung is a hard dom and a soft dom in different scenes, short instances of sub doyoung, finger sucking (I know, I have a hand kink), spanking, raw, ice play, fingering, dry humping, thigh riding, choking, use of "sir", orgasm control and denial, edging, overstimulation, light degradation, oral f, brat taming, safe word, wine play?; lots of teasing; swearing; discussion around death; doyoung is a jerk but gets better

words: 13k

note: you can read this as a stand alone without having read the other works in the soulmate collection. what you need to know: haechan, jeno and jaemin travel different universes with the purpose of getting doyoung and yn be together. mark is trying to do the opposite. sometimes doyoung can remember past lives and sometimes he can't. this life takes place in a hospital. if you're confused by the three boys’ story everything will be explained in their backstory fics coming soon.

__________

Haechan let out a single deep sigh.

“Damn it. Doyoung is a fucking jerk in this life.”

The three young men were standing in the corner of the room watching two students trembling mortified in front of a pissed off Doyoung before he could turn around on his heels.

“I thought he was a jerk in all lives,” Jeno commented while dusting off imaginary lice off his jacket.

"I’ll be honest. When you said 'hell' I didn't expect the ER."

“Well have you ever been to-” Haechan continued but stopped when noticing Jeno not listening to him anymore but observing their third friend instead.

“Hey, Jaemin?” Jeno put one hand on his shoulder.

Jaemin was weak and paler than usual, eyes wide and with a slightly trembling chin. He then followed the direction of the younger gaze and gasped himself.

“Yeah,” Haechan grated the back of his head. “I’m sorry. I told you this one is going to be hard.”

Jaemin gulped, looking at himself walking around the bed and checking on the patients.

That Jaemin looked exactly like him.

The only difference was the clothes. That doppelganger had a doctor gown instead of a sweatshirt.

“How is this possible? I don’t understand how I can be here and there at the same time.”

Haechan sighed at Jaemin’s comment.

“You could consider it time travel. Now, listen to me.”

Jaemin let himself be grabbed by Haechan’s hands, pressing on both of his arms and looked at the other’s intense eyes.

“You have to avoid yourself while we work and-,” he stopped as if making sure to have Jaemin’s whole attention, “-you can’t talk to her.”

As if Haechan’s voice was a spell that summons people, Jaemin raised his gaze from him to look behind Haechan’s shoulder where a woman was slowly walking the corridor, eyebrows furrowed trying to understand the medical records she was carrying.

“Shit,” Haechan silently cursed and, placing one hand on Jaemin’s cheek, he indicated to keep quiet by putting one finger on his own lips.

If Jaemin weren’t so weak in the limbs upon seeing her, he would have felt the tingle on his skin coming from Haechan’s palm, or he would have realized that the woman walked past them as if they were all invisible.

Jeno, arms crossed on his chest, followed the woman with his eyes then nodded once as to indicate that the path was clear.

“Why can’t I talk to her?”

Jaemin’s head wanted to turn around and catch another glimpse but Haechan didn’t move his hand from his face yet.

“You might, I promise. But only when I say so.”

“Haechan and I can shapeshift and become invisible but you can’t and we won’t be around to babysit you all the time. Do your part and stay out of trouble.”

"You look mean,” Jaemin mumbled.

"I am. Now move."

__________

A breath.

A deep and heavy breath.

He was hearing it inside his skull. His own irregular breath inside his own skull.

Then a loud ringing suffocated every other sound in Doyoung’s ears. Like tinnitus, he thought, so used to elaborate information by classifying it into boxes.

The man was looking at his hands as if they were not his, fingers gripping the defibrillator pads, watching how the chest underneath them rose and fell.

Again.

And again.

A machine. The defibrillator and Doyoung.

And that body as well.

But it was too broken to be fixed.

And when he barely heard the nurse’s question he straightened his back. “Time of death,” he inhaled, his hands now uncovering the wristwatch, “2:41 am,” he exhaled.

__________

Doyoung felt it inside his hands, under the skin.

It was uncomfortable.

He looked at his left palm and wished it trembled.

"A surgeon," the announcement came in the form of a hard pat on the shoulders.

Doyoung blinked surprised and put his glasses back up on the nose.

"Great hands," the professor shook them with vigour, his eyes wide open and intense. "Steady," the old man continued his litany of compliments.

Doyoung let him wiggle his arms for a few more seconds before sighing as another student grabbed the professor's attention.

The young boy looked down at his hands as well after the man turned his back.

His eyes scanned every line in his palms as if seeing them for the first time.

"Those hands will do big things in the future" and Doyoung now, shoulders heavy, moist fringe patted on his forehead in the humidity of the terrace, felt like cutting his hands off.

Yes. Big things.

Like playing with life and death.

Didn't you just kill a man? he asked his hands, lower lip trembling instead of his steady fingers. Huh? and you're fine?

Doyoung tightened his fists with disgust and punched the air while letting them fall with force to his sides.

The rain intensified and he stepped in the front further until feeling the cold and heavy drops hit his face. Their sound was chaotic and it calmed Doyoung's heart.

Again.

I can do it again. I've done it before.

I do it again.

I can get over it.

He opened up his hands under the rain until he started to not feel his fingertips anymore.

Then he walked back inside the hospital.

__________

When you had to deal with the first dying patient, you were paralyzed.

It was very early in the morning. Your head was still full of the dreams you had just a while ago. Your heart was full of life and excitement for finally being able to work in the field.

"Get your shit together."

That voice startled you.

Doctor Kim, the most ruthless and cold person you've ever met, was your supervisor as an intern.

You looked up at him and caught his dark eyes on that spectrally pale face.

You just moved. You had no idea what you were doing. Terrified, you let your body work automatically.

Doctor Kim was calm and efficient while your whole mind felt out of place.

Oh, God. Oh God, please.

And when his voice finally reached your ears as if from far away you sunk down on your knees.

"Good job everyone."

The kindest thing he has ever said to his interns.

The other vaguely kind thing was his introductory discourse.

"I know that interning at the ER is dreadful, but that's life."

He was staring you all down, a short line of fresh out of med school trembling kids, no one having the courage to meet his eyes.

"You have to be ready to see all sorts of things here. Okay, let's go."

And that was it.

The encouragement of his introductory discourse.

You'll feel like shit here, welcome.

You hated him and you swore to yourself that you won’t behave the same.

Ever.

He was like a souless machine, walking around and tending to his duties. Lost in thoughts as your eyes scanned his figure walking busily around the hospital, you actually wondered if he had feelings at all.

The first time you saw Doctor Kim actually show some type of sentiment, was when he exited the surgery room one day.

You were walking around with the others and checking on the patients when he walked through the corridor like a storm. It was unclear what type of feeling that was but it made you unable to stop staring at his side of the face and back as he entered his office.

The anaesthetist came out soon after, slowly and sighing deeply.

And then you understood.

You've lived many of those days afterwards until you had to welcome your own row of interns.

You smiled and did a nice short welcoming discourse.

And at that moment you, unfortunately, got what Doctor Kim meant when he was brusque with you in the beginning.

It took you all three years of residency to finally get it: there were no actual right words to tell the students and there was no point in giving fake hope that everything is going to be alright.

Still, there was no point in being a rude ass like him. So you at least smiled kindly and encouraged your students.

God knew they needed it even more now.

You've never spoken much to Doctor Kim besides what was needed or the routine good morning sir and the short morning he would answer with.

So it was strange that on the first day of your career as a real surgeon, after your hands and those of Doctor Kim near each other worked, barely moving, his muffled voice ordering the tools, your muffled voice doing the same, you hugged him.

You hugged him that day for no reason besides the overwhelming feeling of being alive.

Doctor Kim, after every surgery, good or bad, would always walk out on the terrace.

You followed him that night and stopped behind his frame. You had to talk to someone about what just happened and he was the only one who might understand.

He was facing the city lights and the wind breeze ruffled his hair. He didn’t care to push it off his forehead.

"You did well today," he said quietly without looking at you.

Oh, you blinked fast.

Your first surgery was a success but your heart was beating so fast that you couldn't understand your feelings.

Were you happy? Were you about to cry? Did you want to scream and jump? What did you want?

But Doyoung just complimented you.

So again, you let your body work automatically and you looked at yourself, as if going through depersonalization, timid feet filling the space between you and Doctor Kim, your hands touching his waist and going around it until meeting each other on his stomach. You placed your head on his shoulders and closed your eyes.

"I was so scared," you whispered.

Doctor Kim's body was stiff, no reaction from his posture, no words coming from his mouth.

Was he shocked? Was he wondering what the hell were you doing? Was he about to tell you to get your shit together again like that first time three years prior?

But he didn’t do any of these things.

He sighed once and you imagined him closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth of your body.

Even if for a moment. Even if it was all in your head and he actually hated it.

Then he took a step forward and you had to let him go.

And when he turned around and placed one palm on your shoulder without looking at you in the face, you remained alone on the terrace, breathing the cold air deeply and longing for his hands to hold you a little longer.

__________

Doyoung didn't speak to you again after that night.

Nor did he look at you once.

While you found yourself staring at his nape every time he walked around. Or turning your head as if following the trail he left behind.

You couldn’t wear perfume in the hospital but it was as if Doyoung did because he’d pull your senses towards him by something invisible.

As if that first touch you shared connected you to him in obscure ways.

“Here’s the coffee that you asked for, sir.” You entered his office after his dry “come in”.

His expression was priceless and for a moment you felt the urge to look behind you and see if there were a ghost scaring him.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Bringing you the coffee?”

“I asked a student to do it, not you. You’re a surgeon.”

Your lips were dangerously trying to form a smile while you placed the coffee on his desk.

“Why does it matter? I am free while those students are busy learning how to be doctors.”

“You think that just because you hugged me once when you were emotionally unstable, now we’re friends?”

That question was so sudden and cold to make you snap your head upwards.

His eyes were darker than usual and you almost gulped.

“No, sir.”

Your voice came out as a tiny exhale and if he felt sorry for his sudden and out of place tone, you couldn't see it on his face at all.

"I was just being friendly as all colleagues would," you added a new note to your own tone, trying to perhaps make him feel guilty.

"You can give me up."

His reply shut you up and you furrowed your eyebrows. “What?”

"I'm saying," he spoke slowly, "that I don't want to be friendly with you. Now, please leave."

________

"I'm going to fucking kill him!" you threw your head back to drink your espresso shot as if it was alcohol and slammed the paper cup back on the counter.

Jaemin sighed pouring sugar into his coffee.

"Why did you even try? He's a jerk."

The man sipped on his drink slowly, the warmth of it misting his glasses.

“I just-” you huffed, crossing your arms on your chest. “We’re colleagues. It made sense for him to be a piece of shit with us when we were interns but now? ‘I don’t want to be friendly with you’” you mocked his deep voice. “Who the fuck does he think he is? I swear I’ll accidentally stab him with a knife!”

“Hm. Do you like him?” Jaemin asked with an unimpressed tone.

You almost grabbed the coffee from Jaemin’s hands and threw it in his face.

“Are you insane? What does that mean? Why would I like him? Kim Doyoung? Me-” you pressed your index on your chest, “liking that asshole? I hate his guts! I can’t believe you said something like this! What’s to like about him?”

Jaemin felt his fringe move around his forehead at your intense voice as if it were wind.

“No need to get so worked up about it. You’re just talking so often about him lately. Also, he’s objectively good looking. He’s also smart. I understand.”

“He’s the ugliest man I’ve ever laid my eyes on! And he’s an idiot! And I don’t talk about him! I have no idea what you’re all about.”

Jaemin rolled his eyes and finished the drink.

“Talking of ugly. What’s that shirt you’re wearing?” you asked.

The man’s head snapped down to look at it. “What’s wrong with it?”

You chuckled once. “Where did you buy it?”

“It’s a normal Polo.”

You laughed even harder. “A Polo you say? And what’s that? A knock off Holo?”

“What’s Holo?”

Jaemin’s face was genuinely confused and it amused you even more.

“Are you getting enough sleep? You’ve been acting weird lately.”

“Or,” he relaxed his expression, lifting one index up, “I come from an alternate universe.”

You chuckled once and hit his shoulder lightly as a greeting, liking his new joking side. “See you later then, alternate universe Jaemin.”

__________

Doyoung wanted to hit his head on the desk.

Your expression, hurt and shocked because of his stupid remarks made his heart tingle in a very uncomfortable way.

One thing was being severe and one thing was being rude for no reason at all.

But the thing is that you were everywhere and he hated it.

Doyoung hated that you were trying to get under his skin.

Like a scent. Like some kind of drug.

He’d scrub his hands and forearms even harder before going inside the surgery room as if with the water and soap he could get rid of the feeling of your arms around his torso under the rain too.

What were you even thinking? Asking for reassurance? From him? Reassurance from the most hated man in the whole hospital? What did you even expect? Why would you even try?

What a reckless person.

He noticed it the first time he saw you as well.

Eyes wide with curiosity and surprise, looking around the ER like it was the best place in the world. Doyoung hated your happiness but he also hated the fact that he would have to assist that light slowly die out with time.

Or at least he thought that would happen.

Days after days, months after months, he paid attention like a scientist looking at his object of study, taking mental notes and registering results. Doyoung would jolt with secret joy when his theories would reveal themselves to be true but then, like a rollercoaster, he’d feel weighed down with grief seeing you in the same state as his one.

Until he didn’t know what to desire to see anymore.

Until one day he lifted his eyes, head full of a soliloquy towards you. “How are you today? Tell me you got better. Tell me you still have your light because no one needs too many black holes in here.”

Until he realized that he couldn’t remember anything about his life before you.

And when you hugged him that day, he felt proud. For your success and your light.

You were a star and he bathed into that warmth for a little before remembering he was still a black hole and black holes attract stars until engulfing them whole with no turning back.

_________

“Why are you always around?” he blinked annoyed.

You straightened your gown that shifted after bumping into him and sighed loudly.

“In case you forgot, I work here.”

Doyoung sighed.

“This is the farthest yard from where you’re always playing with your friends.”

“I had business coming here.”

“What business?”

“That’s my business.”

Doyoung’s corner of the mouth twitched.

“It’s our business.”

“Are you a communist?” you placed your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the side.

“I’m your superior. What are you doing here?”

A few nurses whispered passing you by and you cleared your throat, trying to relax your face muscles. Doyoung rolled his eyes once upon seeing your new fake cordial expression.

“Apparently I’m doing such a good job that Mr Jung wanted to compliment me,” you raised your chin.

“Mr Jung?”

“Yes.”

His nostrils widened as if he had too much air to inhale and didn’t have time to get it little by little.

“He doesn’t just summon people to compliment them. Stay away from him.”

You scoffed incredulously at his innuendo.

“Are you hearing yourself?”

“Very well. Get back to work now.”

“Are you perhaps jealous?” the words slipped from your mouth before you could stop yourself.

But Doyoung, to your biggest surprise, smirked a little, lifting his eyebrows once.

“And if I were?” he asked, then walked around you, leaving you still for long moments in the corner of the corridor before being able to walk again.

_________

“And then he said, “and if I were?”

Jaemin gulped his food and chuckled. “I can’t imagine that.”

“I know right? Was he crazy?” you asked with your mouth full, swinging your knife.

“Maybe the director does have eyes on you. And-” he leaned in mischievously, avoiding your cutlery, “that’s why he acts as if he hates you. Because he has feelings for you.”

You chuckled nervously.

“He hates you too!”

“He doesn’t even know I exist,” Jaemin shrugged.

“Hey, Jaemin.”

“Like once I asked him something and he thought I was a patient and when I said that I’m actually-”

“Jaemin! I’m pretty sure I’ve just seen someone looking like you pass that door just now.”

The young man turned around quickly, right in time to see himself exit the food hall.

“Damn,” he laughed for a few moments. “Someone else copied my hairstyle. I guess I’m not that unnoticeable as I thought.”

You opened your mouth to comment on that since you were pretty sure it wasn’t only the hairstyle that the man copied when Doyoung approached your table like a storm scaring the shit out of you.

“What is it now?” he asked, eyes piercing through you.

You let out a long “uhhh” before talking, staring him up and down.

“Are you talking to me?”

Doyoung scoffed then sighed. “A doctor told me you were urgently looking for me.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Who?”

“Do I look like someone who knows people’s names?”

Jaemin shook his head.

“Well, I don’t need you,” you let him know.

Doyoung sighed again and the long look you exchanged made Jaemin awkwardly chuckle once.

“You can sit down with us for lunch, sir,” he offered and you inhaled sharply, kicking his leg under the table.

Doyoung looked firstly at you then at Jaemin then at you again as if not believing he was actually talking to people like you.

But the tray in his hands was getting heavy and there were no other empty tables.

He walked around Jaemin and sat down near him.

Then he rolled his sleeves and started to eat in silence.

But only for a moment.

“What?” he asked as you were both staring at him with hanging open mouths.

“It’s our first time seeing you eat,” you whispered.

Doyoung gulped the food. “I’m putting on a show for you guys. I’m a vampire that doesn’t need food.”

“See!” you hit Jaemin’s hand as if catching his attention. “He’s making jokes!”

Jaemin leaned back in his chair as if a little afraid.

“So you talk about me instead of working,” Doyoung commented.

His eyes were on you and you suddenly realized what you’ve just said.

“No,” you quickly grabbed your glass and sipped the water.

Doyoung looked at Jaemin and the young man secretly nodded a little.

And for the first time in years, you saw Doyoung smile.

Like a full-on smile. A big open smile with all the teeth out.

You blinked fast and before realizing your own lips were stretched in a smile too.

He was breathtaking.

You wanted to run away but also crash into him. You were at the top of the world and down in the dumps.

__________

The grunt you let out after hitting a hard surface resonated in the whole hallway.

For the second time.

"You are always where you shouldn't be."

You lifted your pained eyes while massaging your shoulder just to see Doyoung do the same.

"Where am I and where am I supposed to be then?" you asked.

"Around me and you should be far away from me."

"And if I say that I'm doing it on purpose?"

Doyoung's pupils trembled.

"To make you mad," you explained, the little smile creeping on your lips making him tighten his.

“You’re trying to make me mad?”

In your head, all of the conversations you would have with Doyoung sounded fun and risky in a good way.

In reality, you realized, it was so overwhelming that you felt your limbs shake.

“I’m joking, sir.” His intense eyes made you look over the windows.

“You don’t like to look at me in the eyes?” his voice was mellifluous just as his movements, getting slowly closer to you.

“Your eyes make me uneasy,” you replied honestly.

Doyoung tilted his head to the side, curious, inviting you to say more. You looked at him again.

“As if they don’t know fear,” your voice was tiny.

A little smile curved the man’s lips. “Oh, but they know what fear is.”

“And what is that?”

“What you’re feeling right now.”

"I am not afraid," you whispered.

"Then why are you stepping back?"

“I am not stepping back.”

Yet the air got softly knocked out of your lungs as you felt the wall on your shoulder blades.

Doyoung didn't reply and just got as close as to lightly brush your lower lip with his knuckle.

"You're cute when you pout," he whispered, eyes smiley under the strands fallen from his styled fringe.

You opened your mouth to talk but he walked away, leaving you alone and with an abnormally beating heart.

Again.

__________

If Doyoung’s newly humorous side was something interesting to share with Jaemin, his newly flirtatious side was something you felt the need to keep a secret.

Heated up, you walked the corridors like a storm.

Kim Doyoung?

Did your body really react that way towards Kim Doyoung?

Pulse throbbing in places you didn’t want to think of?

Because of Kim Doyoung?

Face buried in your wet hands, the cold water running in the sink, you imagined telling this to your younger self.

Then you lifted your head and turned it off, raising your gaze to look at your dilated pupils in the bathroom mirror.

_________

Doyoung didn’t care about people much.

Hours upon hours of surgery, he only needed to see his colleagues’ hands and hear their breaths while desperately trying to save yet another life. How they looked without the caps and masks was not something of interest to him, especially knowing superfluous details like their names.

Yet, when he briefly noticed the eyes of the second surgeon entering the room, Doyoung furrowed his eyebrows.

Those were not your eyes and those were definitely not your hands in the latex gloves.

And for the first time, he needed to know who that person was.

“I’m Lee,” the man whispered.

“I didn’t know you were on schedule today.”

“Yeah, heard about it last minute as well.”

Were you avoiding him?

If Doyoung’s body could show tremor, he’d had trembling legs under the desk he sat at after the surgery, and if he’d had the habit to bite his nails, he’d be ferociously eating them by now.

Unfortunately, he was stoically sitting in his office, elbows pressed into the hard iron surface, veins missing adrenaline but aggravated eyes.

Walking the corridors while people took a step back to make him pass, looking away when he’d look at them and whispering angrily behind his back, was a bliss.

The protection shielded Doyoung like a fuzzy blanket even if it sometimes felt itchy at night when he found himself the most lonely.

So when you did the same, passing him by as if hating him, he surprised himself at the sudden discomfort. Especially after

well,

after that.

He wasn’t sure himself what it was but it must have been something if it made you uncomfortable enough to not show up to a surgery.

He lifted the corner of his blanket for a moment and he fucked up.

__________

“Y/N.”

You stopped in place.

And so did most people around you.

Many found Doyoung scary but also interesting to observe when his spite wasn’t directed at them.

What did she do? you could almost hear the whispery words passing from ear to ear, amused voices, grateful for not being in your place.

“See me in my office,” Doyoung ordered after you slowly turned around.

His voice was low and no one could have heard it if the whole yard didn’t just collectively hold its breath.

“Yes, sir.”

“You all are surely not working enough if you have time to be useless,” his voice sounded louder and clean all of a sudden. “Do you want some hours assigned?”

Like a spell, everyone looked around and the buzz filled your ears back, leaving yourself and Doyoung the only still figures.

Then he moved as well, the swoosh of his cloak touching your hand when he passed near you.

You inhaled deeply and followed him.

_________

“I am sorry.”

You wished you’d accepted his offer to sit down because that single sentence floored you.

“For what?” you asked with a tiny voice.

“I know I often say things that I don’t mean. And I know that I might have made you feel uncomfortable. So I apologize.”

His eyes were round and filled to the brim with such sincerity to make you swallow hard.

“You don’t have to apologize. It was necessary to make me who I am,” you minimized.

Doyoung looked away for a brief moment. “I mean the corridor incident.”

You blinked at him.

“I made a mistake,” he added.

The first thing that came to mind was the urge to use that to your advantage.

Scold him. Make him feel guilty.

Kim Doyoung making a mistake.

Exhilarating.

The power suddenly surging in your veins went to your head so you suppressed the smile that so desperately wanted to bloom on your lips.

“Yes.”

His expression darkened even more at your reply and his adam apple moved as he swallowed. He actually hoped it wasn’t the case.

“I’ll make sure to keep the surgery schedules separated so you won’t feel uncomfortable working with me. You could have asked me first though before changing it yourself.”

The excitement died out with these words.

“What are you talking about?”

“Thursday’s surgery.”

“I was told you appointed another person yourself.”

“I did not.”

“Well, I didn’t either.”

“So-”

“It’s not like I’m trying to avoid you, no. But if you-”

“I’m not trying to avoid you either. But you said I made you uncomfortable, so-”

“I was messing with you.”

He finally went silent.

“You looked so guilty that I wanted to get a little revenge,” your voice came out a timid whisper.

Doyoung sighed, closing his eyes a little, then he stood up.

“Did I seriously cause you that much pain all of this time?” he walked towards you as if actually concerned.

“You made me cry almost every day.”

He opened his mouth like a fish before closing it. The shocking confession made him lift one hand to cup your face.

You both looked at it with fluttering eyes as if it wasn’t his.

He tried to put it away quickly but you pressed your palm on it to keep it in place.

“I’m joking. I only cried a few times.”

Doyoung’s pupils danced around just like his brain trying to process the information you were giving him. His face, confused and not knowing anymore what was a joke and what wasn’t, amused you a lot.

“I’m sorry I’ve been harsh. I’ve been-”

“A jerk.”

He gulped, his thumb slowly brushing your cheekbone.

That little gesture made you close your eyes for a moment. And when you opened them, you just leaned in and placed a quick and chaste kiss on his closed lips.

“If the corridor thing was a mistake for you, I just did one too. Don’t be too hard on yourself. We can pretend nothing of this happened."

You let his hand go and moved to take a step back just to feel his hold on your face tighten.

Pulling you towards him again, he added the second hand.

His lips were not closed anymore, but very much open to welcome your lower lip between them.

Your hands flew to his hair and pulled him towards you too. He hummed and you whined. And when you both needed air, you let yourselves go, panting against each other’s lips.

A little smile curved your lips, eyes unable to look up. Fingers on his neck, you let them slowly descend to his chest and you took a step back.

You took your lower lip inside your mouth for a moment, as if still trying to taste him and walked a few steps back.

Doyoung followed you, unable to let your body go until you touched the door. His eyes were blown out and he kissed the corner of your mouth again, and again, and again, until kissing you fully on the lips for the second time. Hands on the glass behind your head, you heard his nails grating at it slowly as you let your tongue twirl with his. Then you breathed out and he couldn’t do anything else than just moving his arms away for you to slowly open the door and leave in silence.

After the door closed, Doyoung pressed his forehead on the cold window.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself, the fuzzy blanket he carefully wrapped himself with all of those years slowly slipping away to his feet.

__________

It didn't surprise you to see Doyoung pretend nothing happened between you as you passed each other in the corridors.

But his avoidance felt weirder than usual, even to external eyes, as if something happened indeed and he tried so hard to conceal it.

"Perhaps it's the 5th coffee talking right now, but doesn't Doyoung look weird?"

Jaemin asked lazily as he rested his body on one elbow placed on the little resting room counter. Said man passed in front of the open door and the furtive look he took of you was interesting enough for someone bored like Jaemin to notice.

You shrugged, quickly stirring the sugar in your own coffee.

"Hm?" your friend smiled at your silence, getting closer.

You sipped the drink.

"Hmmm?" Jaemin put his face into yours.

"Oh my God, get away," you tried to push him away.

"You had sex."

You spat the little coffee you still had on your mouth. Jaemin giggled and took a step back before it could land on his own.

"We did not have sex! What's wrong with you?"

"Okay. So you at least kissed," he looked up to you under his wiggly eyebrows as he handed you a few napkins.

"We-," you wanted to deny but your lips formed a frustrated smile instead. "Shit. I can't believe it either."

"Wow."

"He was- so delicate," you murmured.

Jaemin winced amused.

"But also intense you know? Like it felt-"

"Okay wait. I didn't ask for a full-on description," he made a puking expression at you.

You lightly hit his arm.

"I was just so surprised. I've never seen this side of him."

"Him liking people?" Jaemin giggled. “Yeah. That’s weird.”

__________

"So it's done. We're done. Let’s get the fuck out of here. Seeing myself around is creeping me out."

Haechan sighed, rolling around in his chair. "Not so quickly. They only kissed."

Jaemin furrowed his eyebrows.

"They have to confess," Jeno explained with a sleepy voice, sprawled on his own chair.

"But they love each other."

"They have to say the words."

Jaemin put his hands on the hips. "That's so stupid."

“Tell this to Doyoung. This is what he wrote in the contract,” Haechan mumbled amused, patting his chest where the Book was snuggly packed near his heart.

Jaemin grabbed another chair and sat backwards on it, resting his chin on the folded arms.

“So you know the job is done when they confess? What if they break up afterwards?”

“It has never happened before.”

“And what if it does happen?”

Jeno opened one eye. “Don’t manifest doom.”

“I’d probably have to come back and get them together again,” Haechan replied.

“I still don’t know why you’re doing this. Can’t you just recede from that contract?”

Haechan sat up properly and grabbed his water bottle. “And do what? Go back to the pits of hell?”

His eyes twinkled with mischief.

“I’ve never had this much fun in a very long time.”

__________

He brought it upon himself, he could admit that.

Ignoring you was more difficult than he anticipated and the first reaction he managed to put out when you talked back to him in front of all of the other surgeons was his usual skin cutting one.

You didn’t like it, he could see it.

You’ve never liked it and, honestly, Doyoung could not think of a single person that enjoyed being on the other side of his table.

Perhaps you were getting a little comfortable with him though because you leaned back in your chair and smiled. As if for once he couldn’t get to you.

It made him even more eager to scratch that nonchalance.

So he did.

Until the meeting was over and he got back to his office with a weird sensation on his shoulders. It somehow tasted like defeat.

And when you opened his door with a loud bang and got in, he inhaled and took a few steps back, imitating the steps you took forward.

You pushed him down on the chair, your gazes mixed together just like your breaths as you leaned down.

Only the sheer anticipation of you touching him made him lose his mind a little.

One hand on his thigh and the other going down from his lips to his extended neck and chest, dragging your nail on his shirt until reaching his stomach and belt.

Then you hit one of his feet to the side with yours, making him open his legs even wider.

He jolted and you could visibly see the way his breath stopped for a moment.

"I don't think someone else tried to put you in your place before."

Your voice was dark and his eyelids fluttered before his pupils could fall on the way your palm brushed his crotch. It twitched under his dress pants and he inhaled deeply.

"Unfortunately, it has to be me."

"We're at work-," he tried to speak but the words died in his throat as you cupped his balls.

"Sorry? Didn't hear that."

"Shit Y/N-," Doyoung closed his eyes, jaw muscles tightening as you gently massaged him.

"Hmm, Doctor Kim is at a loss of words?"

You cooed, leaning down even more until almost brushing his lips with yours.

"So cold and composed while you spit venom all day. I really want to see you lose your mind for once."

He opened his eyes right when he started to pant lightly and you gulped upon seeing his dark gaze.

"You'll regret this."

"Can't wait to feel regretful."

"Be careful."

"Don't want to."

His smile grew suddenly wicked and it threw you off as he suddenly stood up, grabbing your wrists and pushing you gently backwards.

"You’ve been loving fighting with me lately. I think that you just need to get laid."

You smiled. "Do you want to help me with that?"

Doyoung scoffed once. "I can't stand you."

"Then sit down."

He put his tongue inside the cheek, staring at your raised chin.

Then his hands suddenly crept around you and grabbed your ass. They squeezed, pulling your hips towards his, making you pant and palm his chest in the meantime. Body pressing on his and his low voice buzzing into your ear made you light headed.

"Arguing with you turns me on so fucking much."

You gulped and noticed the way Doyoung’s eyes fell on your open mouth.

“This is a very pretty shade of lipstick. Makes me want to ruin it.”

His thumb opened up your shocked lips even more by tugging at the lower one, your eyes getting hazy from his expression cutting you in half.

“Suck.”

The order made your legs buckle a little. Your pupils trembled when you slowly let your tongue touch his fingertip. Doyoung got impatient and pushed it until it was all in. You fought the urge to gag and just whimpered, grabbing his shirt into your fists as he watched you hollow your cheeks on it.

“I’ve always wanted to make a mess out of you,” he murmured, his other hand cupping your face and feeling your jaw, going down to your neck and wrapping it into its warmth. You raised your face to give him more space and your hooded eyes trying to look at him as he pressed around your throat made him smirk.

“You like that?” he watched your squirming body trying to get closer to him. He took a step back and rested his hips on his desk, pulling at you until you felt his thigh between your legs.

“What a slut,” he took out his thumb and spread the saliva on it on your lips. “Bet you wanted to suck me off under the desk, didn’t you? Fuck your superior?”

You started to breathe through your mouth, the hand wrapped around your throat making it difficult for you to form any thoughts.

“Or you wanted me to bend you over it?” he murmured, eyes glazing over your breast, his free hand painting one line from your collarbones to the cleavage of it. And when he suddenly squeezed one, feeling its softness in his palm, you almost cried out and dug your fingers into his shoulders.

“Yes, sir.”

Doyoung’s corner of the lips lifted as if curiously surprised.

“And if I don’t do any of those things?” his eyes were on your face now and it made you want to hide away or just beg him to just please do all of those things.

“What are you going to do?” he asked again.

The pool of wetness inside your panties was so embarrassing that you pressed your forehead on his shoulder.

"Then just let me go," you whispered in a tiny voice.

"You're free to g-" he caressed your jaw with one thumb.

"No. I hate it," you went on, lifting your gaze on him, and he exchanged the look, slightly taken aback.

"I dream about you every night. It's not about sex, it has never been just about it. Everything about you makes me go crazy. I hate it and I want you to just let me go.”

Doyoung blinked and cupped your face with both hands.

You just breathed out, ignoring the little voice screaming inside your mind to shut up, palming the back of his hands with yours, suddenly unable to raise your eyes on him.

"I just can't understand and I hate being like this," you added after a quick gulp.

The man opened his lips and you noticed the way you started to breathe in unison.

"There's something so darkly attractive about you," the tiny sigh coming out of your lips made their way on Doyoung ones and he licked them once, his own breath warm on your skin.

"No matter how much I try to know you, there's something that escapes me. I can't pinpoint you and it keeps me up at night."

Doyoung gulped and his hands twitched as they palmed your arms, going down to your hips and pushing you down, gently.

You gasped silently, your core so swollen that the feeling of the friction of your bodies as you rubbed on him could have been enough to make you orgasm.

"Sir-," you found the force to talk but he took his tongue out and you just dove in, catching it inside your mouth and sucking on it the way you sucked on his finger. Your eagerness made his hold even tighter, guiding your body rolls, loving the way you squirmed in his arms.

When you pulled away to whine he raised one hand to bury in your hair.

"You haunt me too," he confessed. "Sometimes I feel so pulled towards you to make me question everything I know about myself."

Your eyes fluttered and your exposed throat looked so vulnerable in Doyoung's eyes to make him lean in and bite on it.

The little moans escaping your lips caressed his ears and when he licked the spots you shivered, your hips not stopping for a second.

It was intoxicating and you didn't dare to speak again but your thoughts were seeping through all of your pores.

"I want you to tell me what you want me to do," you whispered, words broken.

"Don't cum," Doyoung ordered and it snapped something in you.

Your breath grew irregular and he chuckled.

With a little groan, you forced your hips to still but he looked down and clicked his tongue, pushing his thigh upwards and making you bounce on it a few times.

"Don't stop."

"But you said-"

"Don't cum and don't stop."

"I can't last," you mewled, twitching against his body and he pouted.

"Baby girl can't keep that in?"

You shook your head, feeling all dizzy as his hands squeezed your asscheeks, making you rub against his leg again.

"But I said what I said. Are you going to be a bad girl?" he accompanied his last word with a harsh slap on your ass that made you inhale through your teeth.

"Sir- I am begging you."

His hand dropped under your skirt that moved to your thighs in a single movement, the coldness of it on your hot clit making you cry out.

He hummed amused, slowly pressing into you and circling your sensitive bud until your legs started to twitch.

"If you want to cum," he stopped, "you'll have to do whatever I say. Is this an agreement?"

You nodded quickly, so close to orgasm that you started to ride his fingers by yourself.

He retrieved his hand and pressed it on your stomach, making you step back until you barely could keep your balance.

"You know where I live, right?"

You nodded confused.

"See you later then," he smirked and gestured to leave the office.

You inhaled deeply, the arousal so high that you considered just finger fucking yourself in front of him.

"Cruel," you whispered.

"And you love it," was his amused reply.

__________

Timid feet in front of Doyoung's entrance door, you questioned if you actually lost your mind.

Were you really willing to go this far for a single orgasm?

Or multiple, you considered.

Okay. Well, perhaps it was all worth it in the end.

Your eyes darted upwards to take in the view of his house.

The windows were lit on the first floor and it looked like a place you'd love to spend your life in. It was too huge for a single person anyway.

When he opened the door after the ring announcing your arrival you didn't expect to see him in casual clothing. It looked so off that for a moment you couldn't speak, eyeing his feet in warm socks instead of rubber shoes.

Then you hit yourself in your mind. Of course, he won't wear his doctor gown at home.

"Good evening," you finally smiled and he eyed your body with a relaxed gaze, stopping when noticing the bottle of wine you carried in your hands.

“Good evening,” he gestured to you to come in and you walked the distance from the doorstep to the hallway. His hands draped your shoulders and you sighed when he took your wet coat away.

You put in a lot of effort in your appearance, choosing the right clothing and accessories.

And he put a lot of effort into arranging his house for you, lighting up the right candles, you noticed after he indicated a room to the left.

Yet all you wanted to see was him.

And all he wanted was to see was you naked.

Venturing in slowly, you turned around looking at what you figured out was the living room. With the corner of your eyes, you saw the grey of Doyoung’s sweatpants disappear upstairs and it suddenly got silent, safe for the crackle coming from the chimney and the hard rain hitting the windows. You took off your shoes and cautiously walked on the dark wine-coloured rug, close enough to warm yourself. A black glassy mirror was hung on the wall in front of you showcasing the pitiful state you were in because of the storm. Then you looked at the piles of books scattered around your feet placed down in a chaotic path leading to the velvet couches behind you as if someone read them while circling the room and suddenly let them fall on the ground when bored. You followed the spines with your gaze trying to figure out the language they were written in when two feet made their appearance in your peripheral vision, making you snap your head up.

He approached you with a little smile, getting closer and closer like a black cat.

New thick energy made it difficult for you to breathe too deeply so you resorted to short inhales and exhales especially after he stopped so close to you.

Doyoung's hands wrapped yours as he took the wine away and placed it on the coffee table on his left. Then he sighed and you found yourself shivering under his gaze.

"Take this off," he lightly felt your shirt's material with his fingertips.

What? You inhaled, mind buzzing at how easy it was this time. No dinner and fancy courtship?

He did look like someone that'd rather take you into seclusion and have you for himself as quickly as possible though.

With slightly trembling fingers that you'd never get in the surgery room, you started to unbutton your top. Doyoung tilted his head to the side with a little smirk as if enjoying the show.

And when you actually found yourself with only your bra on he smiled, even more, eyes grazing your skin slowly until you felt a heatwave shake your limbs.

“This too.”

He slowly touched the bra fabric and you gulped.

“Take it off yourself.”

Doyoung chuckled once and went around your torso, unclasping it with quick and expert fingers.

You jolted and you felt your eyelids flutter as it slowly fell down your arms.

Doyoung grabbed the front part of it and dragged it down to the floor, adding it to the weird maze of books making the eccentric design of his living room.

His eyes caressed your perked nipples and you tried hard to resist the urge to cover yourself.

“Pants,” he ordered and his voice was deeper than usual.

You wavered a moment and he lifted his eyebrows once. Do it.

You inhaled and slowly opened the zip.

He bit his lower lip when you bent down to discard the piece of clothing and when you straightened your back he hummed.

“Wear this,” he gently threw a piece of fabric towards you which you caught quickly. It was soft and it smelled like him.

He looked at it, then slowly raised his eyes to meet yours, not moving a single muscle.

You inhaled in again, trying to calm your nerves, desperately wanting to ignore the way he was dressed himself. A white and see-through shirt with the deepest neck you’ve ever seen, barely covering any of his chest. You barely could see his sweatpants as well, but his bare ankles were fully on display, just like his forearms that you could catch glimpses of as he absentmindedly revived the locks blocking his pupils with one hand.

A raw playfulness made his features even scarier in the dim lighting.

“I want you wet. But not from the rain,” he explained, eyeing your confusion.

“You could have just told me to change into it and end it there,” you mumbled, buttoning the shirt up. It was deep blue and oversized, short on your thighs but hiding whatever you had to hide.

“Why? Did you hate that I made you undress in front of me?”

“It was embarrassing to stand naked like that.”

You wanted to sound offended but the pout your lips formed on its own betrayed your secret amusement.

“Nothing that I won’t see up close soon.”

His voice was a whisper that forced you to look away. You wanted to reply but he turned around walking towards the kitchen.

"Besides, I made some spicy sauce. You don't want to spill it on your nice clothes."

“Who said I was going to spill food on myself? I have steady hands.”

You walked over him, taking the plates from his hold and placing them down on the dining table yourself.

You wanted to look unbothered by him just like he looked unbothered by you, but the truth was that you just had to do something to not feel that overwhelmed.

“You don’t,” he argued following you near the table.

You scoffed lifting your head to look at him. “Excuse you? I’m a surgeon.”

“Your hands don’t look like the hands of a surgeon when you’re around me.”

You scoffed.

“I think that the biggest thing in the world is your ego.”

“You haven't seen my-”

“Don’t say it.”

He closed his mouth as the little smile he had on kept lingering on his lips.

Domestic and flirty. It was getting to your head and you hadn’t had the opportunity to sip a single drop of alcohol yet.

As if reading your mind, he grabbed the bottle of wine you brought and fumbled slowly with the cap.

"That's my favourite shirt. And I want to fuck you in it."

The shivers that travelled down your spine almost made your body twitch and your hands stopped in mid-air as you were placing the cutlery.

He smiled at you when you looked at his expression.

His lips. His eyes and cheekbones. His skin under the lights.

Fuck. You really needed a drink.

And after he popped the bottle open with a loud sound that disrupted the silence, the red wine erupted out of it, dripping off his hand up to the wrist you had your drink right off his fingers.

Doyoung’s pupils trembled as you leaned in like a cat and his lips opened to breathe better seeing you lick the drops off his fingertips. Rested with his hips on the table, it creaked when you came forward, even more, hands pressed on his open thighs and reaching for his face. You finally caught his lips in yours and you let him taste the wine on your tongue.

It was rich and slightly sour, then it became sweet as only Doyoung’s taste remained lingering on his lips.

“Delicious,” he commented after the slow kiss. “You have good taste in wine.”

“And men.”

His expression was hidden under his long fringe but you could sense that he was smirking.

Then he raised his head a bit and had a gulp out of the bottle himself.

You had the first row to the show that his adam apple moving up and down gave you. Then your eyes naturally fell to his collarbones and bare chest, his white shirt barely covering anything.

Your fingers gently darted to his skin and you palmed it, then to his prominent collar bones, feeling the warmth of his chain around his neck.

He hummed, letting his head down to catch your hand with his lips. They kissed your fingertips then he finally dove in and let you taste his tongue again, hands quick to let the bottle go and grab your body instead.

Closer closer closer you needed him more and more.

“I need to feed you dinner first,” he grabbed your wrists as your hands tried to unbutton his shirt.

“If you won’t fuck me, I can find someone else to do it,” you whispered.

His eyes tightened and he exhaled once.

The movement was so quick that your head spun and the spank that arrived at your ass made you jolt on your toes before you could lean down on the table, fingers trying to grip the tablecloth.

“Yeah? I want to see you get fucked by someone else while my name spills out of your filthy mouth.”

His voice was raspy and it made you bite your lower lip, ass eager to push back and to rub against Doyoung's crotch. He hummed at your movements and lifted the shirt up to your waist, palming your skin and looking down at the way your ass cheeks engulfed your pretty lingerie. You strained your neck upwards at the feeling of his fingers slowly caressing your lower back, feeling the lace of your panties, then you whimpered as he grabbed the material and stretched it towards him before letting it go.

"You want this little hole all filled up, don't you?" he murmured, hand sliding between your thighs to rub on the soft and thin fabric. Your legs shifted in place at the sensation and you arched your back for more. The little 'Doyoung' making him exhale.

"And I thought you'd keep calling me sir."

You tried to turn your head towards him, wondering if his suddenly absent hand meant that he wanted you to actually call him that.

But then you saw that hand around you, reaching for the bucket of ice prepared for the wine on the table in front of you. And at that moment you realized that it was for you instead - his drink for the night.

The ice cube wetted his fingers when he took it out and he first placed it on your open lips. You sucked on it for a moment, the warmth of your skin already melting it, strands of water slowly descending on your chin and inside your cleavage.

"Say 'blue' and I'll stop," his voice was deep near your ear.

You nodded breathlessly and you shivered feeling his hand hover over your back.

And when you first felt it on your spine, your fingers independently grabbed the edge of the table. Then it went down and down, forcing goosebumps out of you.

Doyoung’s palm soothed your skin, warming it up before reaching to the front to grab at your hard nipples poking through the fabric. And when the cube reached your clothed core you mewled, lifting yourself on the tiptoes.

“Shit-shit-,” you curled your neck down, jolting under his touch, wanting more of it and running away at the same time.

Your panties were all wet and you were unsure if for the ice or your own body and when Doyoung took away the cube, giving you a break by gently pressing his own wet fingers between your lips you wished for the fabric to not be there anymore.

“More?” you whined, chest rising and falling at a crazy speed.

Doyoung snickered once, his hands grabbing your sides and turning you around.

Mind hazy, you didn’t have the time to wonder where the ice cube went, the only thought roaming your head being the need to pull him closer to you.

And you did just that, wrapping his waist with your thighs after he lifted you on the table with a thud, making all the cutlery and glasses jingle.

And you clasped your fingers into his hair while his hands roamed your naked body under his shirt.

It was when he pressed his cold, open lips on yours that you finally mewled, feeling the ice cube travel from his tongue to yours.

It got smaller and you sucked on it, giving it back, hearing him hum deeply into the kiss.

Then he broke it suddenly as if unable to control himself from kissing your neck instead, biting and sucking on your skin as hard as he did on the ice cube. You rolled it on your tongue until it became nothing, finally opening your lips to moan, feeling his cold touch on your breasts as his quick fingers unbuttoned the shirt.

The material of your panties grazed your legs at Doyoung’s rough pull. You watched them fly and land on the lamp behind him.

Then you felt his fingers finally rubbing your clit and you inhaled deeply. You were so horny that you were embarrassed to admit that just a few rubs would be able to throw you over the edge.

Doyoung saw it and from his expression, he was enjoying himself maybe too much.

“Come on love, cum for me,” he murmured on your open lips. You whined, nail digging into his shoulders and you shook your head.

“You’ve been begging me for an orgasm and now you want to be a brat about it?”

His hand worked quicker and when he inserted one of his long and slender fingers inside, you actually moaned loudly.

“Sir-” the title slipped from your shaking lips and he chuckled against your cheek, pushing another one and curling them both, pressing into you and trying to find the sweetest spots you had.

“Right here?” he whispered amused.

You start swearing, moulding his biceps under your tight grip, the table and everything on it shaking at the fast pace of Doyoung’s pumping.

And then it was too much and it overflowed.

The gasp you emitted made you fall forwards. Your arms wrapped Doyoung’s body tightly as you came in spasms, legs trying hard to meet each other around his wrist but pressing into his sides instead.

Doyoung let you whine a little bit more, hand slowing down but never stopping, fucking you through your orgasms as long as he could. Then your jaw got grabbed by his other hand and he lifted your face to meet his gaze. His eyes caressed your fucked up expression before kissing your lips.

"Good girl. I know you can give me another one."

You gripped his shoulders for dear life as Doyoung's fingers came back outside to desperately rub at your over-sensitive clit.

“Doyoung-Doyoung-” you writhed in his hold before he could slip away from your arms and fall on his knees.

You’ve gotten head before, but this time, maybe for the overstimulation or your secret feelings for that man, it felt like the first time ever.

Not knowing what to grab to steady yourself as his tongue danced in circles around your engorged clit, you buried your hands in his hair. His hands pressed into the softness of your thighs just as hard and when he raised his gaze up to look at you from underneath his messy fringe, you felt like falling.

And you almost fell when he resorted to quick short licks that drove you insane, making you cum for the second time in such a short time to make you lightheaded.

The single fuck got prolonged as much as the orgasm Doyoung gave you and when he started to kiss your inner thighs, coming up towards you, on your stomach, pressing his wet open lips on your skin until meeting your breasts, you were ready to admit that you were madly in love with him.

His kiss felt as if you were underwater, unable to breathe and understand space. You felt his arms around you and suddenly you felt weightless and he carried you around until you felt the velvet of the couches underneath you and his body pressed flushed on yours. His waist got automatically wrapped by your legs again as if that were their place and they weren’t aware of it before.

He slipped his hands on your hips, grabbing your ass hard as he murmured against your lips. “Are you going to be a brat with me again?”

His voice was calm but deep as if a storm was incoming, making your knees feel weak.

“Words,” he spoke again, pressing himself a little more between your legs.

You breathed out.

“I don’t know,” you managed to say before pushing him away. He fell to the side, grip softened mostly for the surprise than your strength.

“Are you going to be a brat to me?” you asked, straddling his lap and pressing your palms on his stomach, going up on his hot skin and lifting his shirt until he couldn’t do anything else than take it off.

Then his hands found their way on your skin too, unmercifully squeezing your soft breasts. He didn’t care to be gentle and lifting himself up he sucked on your skin so hard until it was almost painful. You wrapped your arms around his torso and threw your head back, stretching out your neck. He left bites all over it, travelling down, tightening his teeth grip around your nipples, making you pant softly.

“I don’t know,” he finally replied.

He looked at you from underneath his fringe and you smiled at each other. You caressed his stomach from below his belly button and going up until reaching his collarbones and he leaned back on his elbows to support his weight. He followed your hand going down on him then his eyes shifted their focus to watch how your pelvis started to move back and forth on his sweatpants, right on top of his hard cock.

“Mm,” he exhaled as finally getting some relief and you imitated him. You placed your hands on his shoulders and closed your eyes and Doyoung flexed his thigh muscles.

He was enjoying seeing you like that, vulnerable and whiny, needy and horny, while he did nothing to help you with it and leaving you desperate.

His eyes caressed your whole body, his lips parted slightly at the sight of your breasts bouncing softly, at how you were spreading yourself on him. You felt hot and plump, your thoughts were blurry and foggy.

"Look at you," he talked. “What a cute little slut.”

You replied with a whine, locking eyes with him but not being able to do that for a long time as his gaze pierced through you, adding to the sensation his pants gave to your raw clit.

So you kissed his lips, messily and sloppily, breathing on his mouth and he finally caressed your thighs and ass, pressing you down even more and closer to him.

Your arms got tighter around his neck and he buried his face into your chest. His hair tickled your chin and you intertwined your fingers into his locks.

So close to cum, you closed your eyes and just let yourself go, your rhythm lost, your muscles aching, without expecting Doyoung's fingers to suddenly get inside of you.

You squeezed yourself onto him with a cry.

"I repeat. Are you going to behave again as you did today?" you heard him ask as his fingers pumped fast into you.

"No, no, oh fuck, please, no," you managed to answer while gasping for air.

"I'm going to-" you whimpered about to orgasm and Doyoung at that moment got you off of him, pushing you down on your back and lifting your legs around him, edging you.

"You're going to cum when I say so," he commented. "You're lucky I'm even giving it to you at all today," he added.

You bit your lower lip frustrated.

"Babe, please-" you begged.

He smiled brightly at the sudden pet name, shushing you as he began to kiss your legs from the knees down, going lightly on the inside of your thigh, making you twitch as he approached your dripping pussy. But he passed over, nudging at it with his nose just to make you jolt and kissed your lower stomach, passing his tongue on the spots he bit before and continued until reaching your lips.

Then, getting on his knees he finally got rid of his pants and underwear.

You felt your core pulsing at the sight and breathed heavily. He tugged at your legs, dragging you until the back of your thighs touched his hips and holding himself he nudged at your entrance. You let your arms fall around your head and bit down on your hand as his tip caressed your clit.

"Doyoung," you whined as your muscles jolted intermittently. You then felt his fingers drag on your leg until grabbing your knee and putting it on his shoulders he humped your folds.

You let your head fall back into the couch, exposing your neck and making your breasts tighten.

It was too much. You just wanted him to penetrate you and to make you scream.

"I want to cum so badly, please," you begged again.

But he acted as if not being able to hear from you.

Your muscles twitched in pain and you lifted yourself to meet him. He pushed you down and distanced himself.

"Behave," he warned.

You looked at his half-closed eyes and plump lips as he bit it with his teeth.

He was suffering as well. He couldn't take it anymore, you could tell.

And when you took your hand to your mouth and licked two fingers, slowly, without breaking eye contact he gasped.

You were about to suck on them, you wanted to see him going crazy, but you didn't manage to as he penetrated you right at that moment, quick and deep, with a grunt.

"Fuck," he swore picking up the pace until the wet sounds overwhelmed the storm.

_________

It was dark. The only light came from the fireplace bathing the living room with a red and yellow hue.

You were both sprawled on the rug under fuzzy blankets.

"Come sit on my face. Show me where I belong."

Doyoung’s voice was a low buzz, imitating the storm still going on as it has been the whole night.

You rolled your eyes to the side amused, ignoring his warm hand palming your knee, nudging you to come closer.

“You still want to go? I can’t cum again,” you pouted.

“But I want you to cum,” he pouted as well.

You sighed and gently got on top of him with the intent of ignoring him and finally fall asleep.

But his expression changed when you were near enough. “I want you to be completely fucked up when I’m done with you.”

You lifted one hand to cup his cheek and kissed his nose.

He blinked at you amused.

“I love it when you smile like this,” you whispered.

The dying flames danced on his face as he stared at you for a few moments.

Then you clicked your tongue.

“Don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t get all dark and distant.”

Doyoung exhaled. “I am not.”

“There’s so much to be proud of, don’t you think?” Your fingers gently started to draw patters on his forehead, going down on his eyes as he closed them, then on his cheeks. He opened his eyelids again after the touch and you talked again.

“Like striving to do good. Trying. Surviving.”

His lips opened to let out a small puff of warm air. Then he hugged you tighter and hid his face in the crook of your neck.

You exhaled too, closing your eyes and lulling his exhausted soul.

“I am so proud of you,” you whispered but you didn’t know if he heard you.

_________

You woke up in Doyoung's bed.

It was huge, warm and it smelled like his laundry detergent. The sheets were soft and luscious, caressing your naked body as you shifted underneath them to look to the side.

Your eyelids fluttered and your lips turned their corners up.

Fighting the urge to squeal and hide your face inside the pillow, you resorted to admire Doyoung's sleeping face.

Resting on his stomach with raised arms thrown around his head, only his eyes and ruffled hair poked out behind his bicep and shoulder. And when he slowly opened one puffy eye you giggled and it curved, showing that he was smiling too.

"Good morning," you whispered.

Doyoung sighed once first. "It's probably afternoon."

His sleepy voice made your body heat up and without thinking you just got closer. He turned on his side and wrapped your body with his arms, pulling you closer to his chest.

"Did you sleep well?" he murmured.

"Like a baby. You exhausted me enough."

The little kiss he placed on top of your head was so unexpected to make you lift your face.

He smiled.

"You inspire so much tenderness in me,” he explained timidly.

You smiled back, resting your chest on his. His hands automatically wrapped your sides as if they've always belonged there.

"I'm glad I'm softening your edges. Now you need to behave like this with everyone else too."

"You want me to kiss the whole hospital on the forehead?"

"Metaphorically."

"Also, I thought you loved my hard edges," he purred, shifting your body to fully rest on top of his.

His hard cock deliciously poked your clit with its tip as his hands slowly made you roll on it.

You exhaled and leaned down, rubbing your lips on his as you whispered. "I do."

His smirk was lazy just like your movements.

"So you want me just like this?"

“I want you. I want everything you are. I want everything that you hide.”

Your hands caressed his chest and came to cup his face. His expression wavered and you found him so vulnerable all of a sudden to make your guts twist.

“Unleash the darkness that you have inside. Engulf me with it. I am not afraid. I want it.”

Doyoung wrapped your body tightly and pressed you down on himself even more.

"There's no darkness inside of me anymore. Not when you're around me."

__________

From “I will not vanish” - Haechan’s backstory

The heavy door opened and closed.

Doyoung looked over his shoulder to see a stranger approach him with slow feet. He raised his eyes and gave Doyoung a small nod.

The other did the same and when the stranger aligned himself with Doyoung, looking over the cold city, they both exhaled.

The silence was so deep, safe for the ambulances screaming in the distance that Doyoung found himself restless.

The stranger leaned on the rail, resting his weight on the elbows and sighed again.

“You know,” he started.

Doyoung looked at him with the corner of his eyes.

“What I like about life,” he paused, “is that you can die.”

The stranger bit his lower lip for a moment then looked over to the other. His gaze felt so heavy that Doyoung’s arms skin got goosebumps.

“Imagine being immortal,” the man continued before letting out a dry snicker.

“Around forever. A pathetic being with no reason to exist besides existence itself. Forever and forever and forever. With no purpose. Until you’d beg someone to kill you but they can’t.”

Doyoung’s fingers twitched on the cold metal of the terrace rail and for a moment his rational mind wanted to ask that stranger just what nonsense he was talking about.

But lately, Doyoung and rationality didn’t match well so he didn’t.

“Immortality sucks only if you’re the only immortal one.”

The stranger smiled bitterly. “Do you want to be immortal?”

Doyoung put his hands inside the gown’s pockets. “I’d die tomorrow.”

“But you wish immortality was a thing.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t have a job anymore,” Doyoung smiled. “But yes. I wish people didn’t die.”

“You’re very selfish.”

That remark made Doyoung frown. “How’s that selfish?”

The stranger turned around and rested his back on the rail instead.

“Why do you want people to not die?”

“Because-,” Doyoung started but didn’t know what to add. “Because it’s painful.”

“For them or you?”

Doyoung sighed. “Okay. I see what you’re doing here.”

The stranger smiled a little.

“It’s not like I think only of myself when others die. I think how unfair it is when I know they didn’t have the chance to do everything they wanted to do first.”

“And what’s that?”

Doyoung thought about it for a moment. “Just- living. Experiences. And most of them actually had enough time to do it. They just took it for granted. And it’s so- painful.”

“And what about you? If you said that you’d be ready to die tomorrow, I guess you’ve been living your life to the fullest with no regrets.”

“Actually, I don’t know if I’ve been living all of this time.”

The stranger shrugged. “Just start now.”

“You make it seem so easy.”

“Living? Hell yeah. You just need to give less fucks.”

Doyoung didn’t reply.

“If you’re ready to die tomorrow, then you should not be afraid of living.”

The stranger’s tone deepened and Doyoung looked his way.

“Who are you by the way?”

“Oh,” the stranger straightened his back and extended his hand. “I’m Haechan. Nice to meet you.”

Doyoung imitated him and shook his hand.

It was warm and in a moment so many thoughts came to Doyoung’s mind to make him breathless.

"I thought I had my life figured out and yet after meeting you I got shocked into awareness."

"You inspire so much tenderness in me."

“I became obsessed with you and it scares me.”

“You could have just told me. You could have told me that you fell apart. Instead, you acted like it didn't bother you at all.”

“You are worth the wait.”

“I can't let go of you.”

Doyoung took away his hand so quickly to almost fall backwards.

He took a few steps on the concrete of the terrace as if trying to get as far from Haechan as possible.

“You good?” the other asked but his face wasn’t mirroring his question.

Instead, a plain expression was adorning his feline features and for an instant, Doyoung felt terror.

“You’re not Haechan,” he found himself whispering.

The man in front of him cracked his knuckles once. “And who’s Haechan?”

“My friend.”

“Friend? Is someone that uses somebody else a friend?”

“He’s not using me.”

“Isn’t he now?”

The man started to walk towards Doyoung slowly, one finger on the rail, grating at the metal with his nail.

“Do you believe in soulmates, Doyoung?”

Doyoung flinched at his name on that man’s lips and started to retreat slowly.

“I do.”

“Soulmates are people that always find each other regardless of everything, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“And are you and Y/N soulmates if Haechan is always there forcing you together like some sort of cheap mismatcher?” the man spit out the last words.

Doyoung gulped and his brain tried to remember how he punched him in some past life and actually win. His surgeon hands would definitely get broken in a second.

“Don’t you want to break this cycle? Find your true soulmate?”

“That’s Y/N.”

“Because you say so.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your orthodox theory, Archangel.”

The man stretched his neck to the side and Doyoung didn't have the time to run away.

#doyoung #doyoung smut #neosmutcollective #nct-writers #nct smut #doyoung angst #nct angst #nct fanfiction #doyoung fanfiction #nct doyoung #doyoung scenarios #nct scenarios #soulmates collection #doyoung doctor au #nct doctor au

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solarwonux · 4 years ago

Text

8. “We need to talk about what happened last night.”

25. “It’s an office with huge windows, everyone can see.” “So?”

marketing director!mingyu x f!reader

w.c: 2.6k

warnings: a little bitt of angst, a little bit of fluff, suggestive themes like voyeurism briefly mentioned

note: ngl, I’m sorry not my best work but I TRIED. Let me know your thoughts it would really help me out a lot. Thank you for reading.xx

masterlist || prompt list

Kim Mingyu - Marketing Director

The nameplate on the door sends a shiver up your spine, knowing that the man you had accidentally pulled in for a drunk kiss the night before during the weekly company bonding dinner, was sitting just behind the door. He was pissed, had pushed you away, made a big deal in wiping his mouth with the back of his hand in disgust. Causing you to sober up quickly and regretting it.

It’s no secret that God had taken his sweet time when creating Kim Mingyu Marketing Director of GoSe Enterprises. He put all the Greek Gods you spent your free time reading about to shame. You’ve been crushing on him since he sat in the cubicle next to yours for years. The two of you had developed a nice easy-going friendship. He was sweet, funny, and always offered amazing advice, both on personal and professional matters. You were practically head over heals for him.

Then the promotion came, granting Mingyu with an office on the southside of the company building. Huge windows overlooking the city below, and the office. A nice fancy gold nameplate with his new job description underneath it. Naturally, the two of you grew apart, ripped from one another without a warning. He was no longer rooting for you and your ideas. Instead, he was the one turning down all your project proposals. He was the one assigning you the revision tasks he knew you hated doing. He was the reason for the random spikes of anxiety throughout the workday. He was no longer your friend, he was your supervisor. His soft demeanor and fleeting touches were nowhere to be found. Lost amongst piles of paperwork surrounding his desk.

You took a deep breath holding your laptop close against your chest, eyeing the nameplate on the large dark wooden door that took your Mingyu away from you a year ago. You were nervous. He only ever called you down to his office if you had a proposal revision due, which this time you didn’t.

The last idea you had pitched two weeks ago was turned down before you could finish your sentence during your first PowerPoint slide. He didn’t even give you the chance to improve it, simply said, “trash it, it’s not worth wasting your time when it’s not a plausible option.” So, the only other option left and the one that made sense was your slip-up the night before. He had called you down to ask for your resignation letter for breaking company policy.

“If you keep staring at the door it won’t magically open,” Chan spoke next to you making you jump. “I’m just saying.” He shrugged sheepishly and opened the door, walking in with confidence. “Mingyu I have the copies you asked for.”

You filed in after him, situating yourself close to the wall and by the door, while Mingyu instructed Chan on where to set down the copies. Your heart was beating rapidly against your chest, watching as the two of them laughed about some inside joke they had. The anger along with jealousy boiled with fever deep within you.

This was the problem. Mingyu had only changed when it came to you. With everyone else he was the same Mingyu you once had the pleasure of knowing, and that not only confused you but it made you angry. “Are we still on for guys' night this friday?” Chan asked the older male pointing finger guns at him.

“Yes, of course, drinks are on Seungcheol this time, which makes my wallet really happy.” Mingyu clapped Chan on the back and led him towards his office door. “Same bar with the cute bartender?” He emphasized, his angry gaze falling on you for a second.

Subtle you silently scoffed rolling your eyes, holding your laptop as close to your body as humanly possible.If he didn’t make his distaste towards you obvious by his reaction last night, he surely made it painfully clear just now.

“That’s the one.” Chan nodded, sending you a pitying look, one you didn’t need. You knew you were fucked.

Everyone knew about your painful crush on Mingyu. Everyone had seen you grab the collar of his dark maroon shirt last night and plant a wet alcohol filled kiss against his lips. Everyone had seen the way he reacted, yanking his suit jacket off the back of his chair and walking out of the bar pissed. So, you didn’t need the various pitying looks you were getting since the moment you walked in that morning.

“Alright then I’ll see you then, don’t forget to turn in your proposal by tomorrow night, Jeonghan keeps bugging me about it.”

Chan sighed, hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand, “shit, I’ll have it done by tomorrow morning.” He said quickly before speed walking back to his cubicle. Leaving you alone to face the problem you had caused.

Mingyu laughed lightly, shaking his head as he shut the door to his office, “I knew he forgot.” He mumbled before straightening his back, the scowl you were used to seeing appeared on his face once again. He walked past you to his desk, taking a seat next to his name plate. You stayed put, looking down at the floor, only counting the tiny dust bunnies that were visible to your eye.

Mingyu cleared his throat, “We need to talk about what happened last night.”

You raised your head pushing yourself off the wall and walked to him. Stopping behind one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. “Don’t need to, It’s my fault for breaking company policy. I’ll hand in my resignation letter to Jeonghan tonight.” You kept your eyes trained on the skyscraper reflecting through the window behind him. Anything was better than looking at him right now.

He sighed, running a frustrated hand across his face. He pushed himself away from his desk and took a step forward. “I didn’t call you in here to ask you to resign.”

Confused, you tore your eyes from the building behind him and looked at him. The bags under his eyes that had started to form from lack of sleep and overwork were now more prominent than before. It made you wonder if he hadn’t slept last night because of you, but then you remembered the huge project he was currently working on, so you casted that thought aside.

“Oh then...I-umm, why am I here?”

“Do you have any idea the position you put me in last night?” He furrowed his brows, placing a knee down on the chair in front of him. He leaned his forearms against the back of it, closing the distance you purposely kept between the two of you.

You took a step back, scrunching your nose, “I don’t understand. You don’t want me to resign. If I’m not getting penalized then why am I here?” You dropped your arms in defeat. “If you called me in here to tell me you’re not interested in me, you don’t have to. I already know.” You finished swallowing the lump that had formed at the back of your throat.

“That’s the problem.” Mingyu pointed an accusing finger at you before retreating it. “I am interested in you, more than interested in you. I have strong feelings for you and I can’t act on them because I don’t want everyone to think that I favor you, because I do.”

I’m dreaming, you thought pressing the palm of your hand against your heated forehead. You had to be dreaming, life has never been this giving to you, “wait I’m confused...you ran out last night, literally pushed me away, disgusted. Do you have any idea how that felt? I had to sit down and face our co-workers with a fake smile on my face because I didn’t want them to see me cry.”

Mingyu’s face softened, he gripped the back of the chair hard enough for his knuckles to almost turn white. “I know and I’m sorry but if I had stayed then I would’ve kept kissing you. You have no idea how badly I’ve been wanting to do that.” He dropped his head releasing a shuddering breath. “Every time we stayed here working over time, the only thing I could think about was how easy it’d be if I just leaned over a little more and kissed you. No one would be around, no one would see, it would just be our little secret. But the stupid company policy always seemed to find it’s way into my head and I never let myself cross that boundary.”

“Mingyu w-why are you telling me this now? Even if we have feelings for one another, my job is important to me and I don’t want to risk getting fired because we’re together.” You blinked rapidly, now was not the time to cry. You could cry later in the communal bathroom across the hall, or on the bus ride home, just anywhere but here.

“Well,” Mingyu rounded the corner of the chairs and made his way to you, finally closing the distance. “I talked to Jeonghan -”

“Wait you told him we kissed?” You were sure your eyes were bulging out of their sockets as the realization hit you. Of course, Mingyu wasn’t going to fire you, he was saving himself the burden and having Jeonghan do it for him.

He chuckled, placing a hand against your hip making you jump, “Just how drunk were you last night? Jeonghan was there when it happened. He called me and threatened to fire me for leaving you the way I did.” He whispered, circling his arm around you and pulling you close, making you stumble from the sudden impact. “H’said, fuck company policy and that I was stupid for following it when no one does.”

“Wait are you saying th -”

“Yes we can be together as long as we keep our work and personal lives separate, so, no sex in my office.”

You gasped hitting his chest lightly, this lewd side of Mingyu was one you had never seen before. Or at least you had but in a much more subtle way. “Well of course, we can’t do that. That was never going to be part of the deal.” The thought of him pressing you against his desk after hours sent a thrilling shiver up your spine. You bit your lip, shaking your head. No, not allowed, focus.

“Why not? I’ve slept on the couch here a few times. It's pretty comfortable.” He reassured, hooking his thumb in the belt loops of your dark slacks. “And your ass looks so good in these pants, I literally have to make it my mission to not stare.”

“I’m flattered, I guess. But look around Gyu.” His gaze followed your hand as you waved it around in front of him. “It’s an office with huge windows, everyone can see -”

He pulled you closer, eloping your body in both of his arms, “so?” He tilted his head to the side, a smirk playing against his lips. You had forgotten how much he liked to tease you.

“So?” You rolled your eyes, “were you not listening to what I was saying everyone can see.” You emphasized, poking his cheek with your index finger.

Mingyu bit his bottom lip trying to suppress his laughter. He forgot how easily flustered you could get, especially when he would say something out of pocket to you. Sure, half of the time you would ignore him, sometimes you would simply roll your eyes, focused on whatever you were working on. Other times he would leave you at a loss for words.

“Frankly, I don’t see the problem. We can just wait until everyone goes home and then give whoever is walking by a free show.” He finished raising his eyebrows suggestively at you.

You rolled your eyes, pushing him away and walked to his door. “I can’t believe you’re already thinking about having sex with me and you haven’t even asked me out on a date or to be your girlfriend.” You pushed his door open and walked out, “the audacity you have Kim Mingyu.”

He felt panic surge through him, his big mouth getting the best of him once again. “Woah woah wait I was getting there, you didn’t give me the chance to ask.” He followed you out the door, trying to keep up with your hasty steps. Who knew you could walk so fast in heels.

Once you were at your cubicle you sat down, placing your laptop on top of your desk, waking it up. “Too late, company policy says we have to keep our work and personal lives separate, guess you’re going to have to wait a while.” You look at the digital clock on your desk, “Five and a half hours to be exact.”

Mingyu threw his head back, frustrated. As much as he enjoyed teasing you, he had forgotten that you were equally as evil if not worse. He had waited to ask you out for more than two years and now that he could, he literally couldn’t wait five and a half hours.

“Friday, after work?” He whispered, covering the side of his mouth with his hand to make it look less suspicious. It wasn’t working.

“What about guys night and that cute bartender?” You smirked, clicking around your computer opening the files you were working on earlier.

Mingyu took a deep breath and grabbed the back of your chair, swinging it around ripping you away from your computer screen. “Fuck guys night honey, I’m taking you home, cooking you the best meal you’ve ever had and then -” He stopped peaking over your cubicle. Everyone that had tuned in to your debacle, quickly scrambled to focus on whatever they were doing before you and Mingyu walked in. He nodded once before leaning down, his lips close to your ear, whispering, “then I’m going to fuck you against my window so everyone can see that you’re finally mine.”

You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning.You put your hand on his chest and leaned in, placing a soft kiss against the shell of his ear. “Kinky, ask me again in five and a half hours.” You gave his cheek a gentle pat before pushing him away, returning your attention to what you were doing.

Mingyu grumbled, shoulders slumped as he dragged himself back to his office. You stifled a laugh, the butterflies you had once felt for him returning.

“You know I heard all of that.” Soonyoung spoke, peeking his head into your cubicle, his eyes wide like he had just seen a ghost, or something utterly disgusting.

Fuck! Mingyu! You whined silently before turning to face your cubicle mate. “I’ll buy you lunch if you pretend like you didn’t hear anything.”

He put a pensive hand on his chin before sticking his hand out for you to shake. “Deal, I suddenly have been overcome with amnesia, whatever happened in the last five minutes I do not remember, that’s only if you promise to also finish revising this project proposal for me.” He waved the large packet of white copy paper in front of you.

You groaned, “that wasn’t part of the deal we just shook on.”

He sucked in air, “I don’t remember that.” He pouted. “I have amnesia, remember.”

“Fuck fine.”

#kpopscape #kdiarynet #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen imagines #seventeen drabbles #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #mingyu fanfic #mingyu fanfiction #mingyu imagines #mingyu drabbles #mingyu scenarios #mingyu x reader

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fantasia-monogram · 3 years ago

Text

Seven to twelve

♥️ Inseong x female reader (female anatomy); mentions of other SF9 members.

♥️ This is set in the As the clock strikes midnight universe, right after the epilogue! Read it before this one to get the context.

♥️ Smut (2.7k words); y/n is a professional Domme. Inseong is a bisexual sub. Mommy kink, degradation, spanking. Mentions of other BDSM practices.

♥️ Quality Department leader Kim Inseong has two secrets: first is his love for kink, second is a massive crush on a hot guy from HR department. Every Thursday, a trusted Domme helps him deal with frustration keeping those secrets causes.

♥️ Disclaimer: this is just for fun! I’m not claiming that’s how they are in real life, it’s just my imagination doing whatever it wants. Read at your own discretion.

As you stepped back into the dungeon, you admired the transformation the room had undergone while you were taking a shower. Your previous customer made a huge mess (still, not even comparable to the mess you've made of him). You weren't the best at cleaning - you've had other talents that got you through life, after all - so you couldn't help but be amazed at the work the cleaning staff did in such a short time.

Gone were the wet stains on the floor, and a soiled rug had been replaced for a fresh, fluffy one. All the scary torture equipment was hidden behind partition that would automatically slide out of the nearest wall by a press of a button. Antique leather chair was switched to a cozy looking armchair with blankets laid out on the floor next to it. The mood of the otherwise pretty sterile space was warmed up thanks to pink tinted lighting.

All of those were a tell-tale sign who your next customer would be.

You opened the wardrobe and took a black satin-and-lace bodysuit out of it. Your usual tight corset and leather boots wouldn't be needed this time. After you put the garment on, you opted for classic shiny stilettos, and topped the outfit with a short flowy dressing gown.

Just to be sure everything was in place, you checked yourself out in the mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door: the look was a blend of a retro housewife and a pin-up girl, complete with vintage style lingerie, aggressive eyeliner and red lipstick. Just as he liked it.

There were only minutes left to the appointment, so you stroke a couple more poses to see the outfit in different angles. Perfect. You crossed the floor in a few elegant strides, to finally take a seat on the armchair in the middle of the spacious room.

You had a pretty chill end of the workday ahead of you.

A soft, somewhat cautious knock on the door broke the silence.

"Come in."

There he was, entering hesitantly, and closing the door behind him in an awkward manner. Inseong - you had no interest in your customers' last names, it was something only the administration ladies kept for business purposes - was a tall, very tall man with broad shoulders, lanky limbs and a bit of a tummy; his face, though, was that of a teenage boy, with barely any wrinkles and nervous expression. From what he told you, he was some kind of a supervisor or a boss or something in the field of corporate banking. At that moment, however, with his black bangs covering his forehead, he was stripped out of all titles he might have held as a higher up.

Honestly, he looked pretty cute in a set of pink fleece pajamas with a print consisting of little yellow chicks.

He stood there, big eyes looking at you anxiously. You knew he was waiting for your sign - his wish was to experience your different moods, so you always kept him uncertain for a bit. It was more fun this way.

That night you decided to play nice, at least for a while. You put on your warmest smile, spreading your arms.

"Come on, baby, come to Mommy!"

Inseong didn't need to be told twice. He rushed from his place. In seconds, he sank onto his knees inbetween your spread legs. You sneaked your arms around his neck and harshly pulled him forward, only to let him plant his face right into your breasts.

Right, he had a thing for boobs. And muscular body types. That's why he chose to pay for your services in the first place.

He stayed like this for a good minute or two, occasionally rubbing his face against your soft flesh. You kept gently patting his head this entire time, until you decided that was enough and yanked him away by a handful of hair.

"Why don't you tell Mommy about your day, baby?" You cooed, still gripping his hair tightly. His eyes, looking even bigger, were all fired up already.

He was so easy to figure out.

"Y-yes… Yes, Mommy, I will," he stuttered. You let go of him, so he could sink back to the floor and lie his head on your lap.

You got back to combing your fingers through his black strands, just to keep the variety.

"There is this guy in the company…" Inseong started, his voice a bit hushed. "In another department. He's dreamy. But I don't think he's interested in me. I don't think he's interested in guys at all. Or at least in pathetic guys like me."

You uttered a soft mhmm to encourage him. Oh, so he came in to release the frustration. You already had a plan on how to help him with that, but that required waiting for a good moment to start the actual scene.

"I can't believe anybody would be able to resist my pretty baby," you sighed, staying in character.

"Thank you, Mommy…" Inseong replied shyly; he knew how to behave, or rather, how to reply to your compliments. "Actually, he spends so much time with that… I can never remember her name… She's a monster. Five and barely a half feet of a goddamn monster. I've heard they want to promote her to a leadership position soon. And she's so old! I can't believe Jaeyoonie is into older women."

Your eyes went wide at the name. No way. Glad Inseong couldn't see your face right now, you quickly calmed yourself down.

"Some guys are into milfs, you know that, right, baby?" You snorted. The things you had to do just to pace the appointment right…

"She's not a milf! She's only a year or two older than me," Inseong explained.

Come to think of it, you had no idea how old he was, and it was hard to tell by his looks only.

"Anyway, I'm sure he's fucking her. Or that awkward skinny boy always hanging out with them." Inseong started to sound pissed off at this point. "Now that I think of it, he could easily take them both! And that would mean he's into older women and younger guys. I don't fit into any of those demographics. What a nightmare."

"You never know," you concluded, although internally you were getting more and more suspicious of Jaeyoonie's identity.

"But there's more…" Inseong's voice broke at the last word. "There was a company party earlier that week… I drank too much and he saw me throwing up in the bathroom… I can't believe I embarrassed myself like that…"

That was the moment you were waiting for. You stopped your caresses immediately.

"Wait a minute. When was that party, exactly?"

You could feel Inseong tense up under your hand.

"Wednesday night…" He mumbled.

"Is that why you rescheduled from Thursday to Friday?"

You gripped his shirt at the back of his neck.

"Yes, Mommy… I was so hungover… I wouldn't be able to play with you…" Inseong started stumbling over his words. You slid your hand up, grasped a fistful of hair and pulled it back so he could face you in a very uncomfortable position.

The panic that flashed through Inseong's eyes gave you a solid rush of adrenaline.

"Good boys don't drink more than they could handle," you stated in a dead serious tone.

"B-but…" Inseong stuttered, "I have low tolerance. And everyone else was drinking…"

You tightened the grip on his hair, eliciting a strangled whine out of him.

"Then you shouldn't have drunk at all, you silly baby." You slowly stood up from your seat, dragging Inseong up on his knees, followed by a litany of pained whimpers. "You made Mommy sad. I've been waiting for you the entire day."

"Oh, no… I'm so sorry, Mommy…" Inseong babbled, on the verge of crying.

Not wanting to overdo it with his emotions just yet, you let go of his hair. He barely managed to feel relief, when you forcibly grabbed his chin.

"You're Mommy's favorite boy, but you need to learn your lesson" you concluded, staring straight into his panicked eyes. "What should I do with you now?"

Inseong went silent, nothing but anticipation pictured on his face.

"Oh, you look way too eager," you said, loosening the grip on Inseong's chin, "Go to the corner, hands on the wall."

"No, please!" Inseong cried out, although you knew very well he was just playing along. "Not the corner!"

"Should I make you go there on your fours?"

The guy mumbled a barely audible I'm sorry and obediently walked to the nearest wall. He took the usual position: propped on his hands, head hanging low, his broad back facing you - obviously, with the round butt presented to you in a shameful way.

To keep him waiting, you first took in the sight, unable to hold back a smirk. You knew soon he would be absolutely wrecked, his cheeks burning red with embarrassment and shining with tears.

Saying you loved your job would be an understatement.

Satisfied, you approached him, clicking of your heels the only sound in the room.

"I guess I have to spank you."

Inseong's head jerked up a little.

"I'm going to do this through your pants, though, and I'm going to use my bare hand only."

Inseong whined, head leaning down to previous position.

"One more complaint and I'm going to shove a plug into your hole and make you stand here for the rest of the night."

"I'm sorry!" He apologized frantically.

It's not like you haven't done that punishment before - you smiled at the memory of him coming untouched - but he really seemed desperate for some action this time.

You came closer and hovered your hand over the perfect curve of Inseong's butt. He trembled under your touch. So, so desperate.

"It's gonna be thirty, because that's how many hours I had to wait between the time you rescheduled to this meeting," you announced, causing Inseong to whimper quietly.

"Can I count?" He asked shyly.

"You're dumb enough to not know your limits, I think counting to thirty would be too much to ask."

With that, you landed the first slap.

You observed Inseong for a couple seconds before continuing. He didn't make a sound, but his arms shook, long fingers folding into fists against the wall. You wondered if he would even last the whole session.

Your predictions would soon turn out to be true: he started whimpering after each hit as soon as you landed the third one. When you approached the tenth, the whimpers turned into screams. Once you passed the first half, all he could do was to moan uncontrollably, his legs shaking so much you were wondering how could he even stand up at that point.

He didn't use the safe word, not even a single word of protest escaped his mouth either, so you knew it was fine to continue. He was so close to breaking. You absolutely adored the feeling of this moment approaching.

Finally, as you were raising your hand to slap Inseong's ass for the twenty seventh time, his knees gave up. The guy sunk down to the floor, still leaning against the wall. That turned out to be too much for him, though - ultimately, he slid his hands down, too.

You looked at him intently: Inseong, resting on all fours, kept trembling, his breathing so loud you could hear it from above. What an absolute mess. You were so amused you decided to end the session on a sweet note; however, your understanding of sweet was very... specific.

"What's that, baby? You can't take it anymore?" You cooed, approaching closer. Your shin brushed against his buttcheek.

"Mommy… I…" Inseong panted, visibly struggling to form a complete sentence. "Can I touch myself? I can't take it anymore…"

You almost laughed at how pained his tone was. Led by curiosity, you kneeled right behind him and leaned to take a close look: indeed, he was tenting in his cute pajama pants. Pathetic.

"Mmm, I'm not sure," you mused. "I don't think you've earned the permission to touch yourself."

"Mommy, please, it hurts," Inseong pleaded. He regained the ability to speak, but his voice started breaking.

"I want you to come, but I also want you to embarrass yourself even more, since you couldn't take your spanking like a good boy," you wondered aloud in an amused tone, "What should I do?"

You knew exactly, but hearing Inseong hold in his breath was worth every second of suspense.

"Anything… I'll do anything…"

Hearing that, you came to conclusion you've had enough of toying with him. You reached to ruffle his hair. He leaned into your touch like a cat.

"Dumb kittens like you don't deserve to be touched directly."

You lodged your thigh inbetween his legs, making him moan loudly at the sudden contact. He felt hard and heavy against your skin through the fabric separating you two.

"Work for it, baby," you commanded.

Inseong didn't need to be told twice. Disregarding all dignity, he started grinding against your thigh, his thrusts becoming more and more furious with time, until he couldn't hold back grunts escaping his mouth. You could feel his cock getting heavier; years of having to keep your urges to yourself during sessions gave you incredible self control, but Inseong's eagerness was turning you on so much you had to think of something quick. To ground yourself, you grabbed onto his hips, helping him grind even harder.

He looked so broken, though - with his head low on the floor, resting on his arms, and his ass high up, relying on you completely in his need for pleasure. The sounds coming out of him weren't making it any easier for you either.

It didn't take him long to finish at this pace. He stilled, arching his back, and came with a delicious, drawn-out moan. You quickly retracted your thigh, as you felt the wetness on his pants coming in contact with your skin.

You let him come down from his high. Once he was fine enough to sit up, you pulled him into a back hug. He sighed happily, leaning against your cleavage.

For good measure, you planted a couple kisses on his cheek and the side of his neck, leaving bright lipstick marks all over; he giggled uncontrollably at your affectionate gesture.

"Thank you, Mommy," Inseong purred, a smile adorning his pretty lips, "My head is so clear now. I feel so much better."

You wondered how he could sound so innocent with a huge wet spot in the front of his pants, not to mention he probably could barely sit with his butt burning from the spanking.

"I hope my baby has a good weekend." You kissed his cheek once again, this time letting your lips linger on his skin for a little longer.

Inseong's legs turned out to be still too wobbly to support him, so you helped him stand up and walked him to the door.

"You're gonna be fine in the shower?" you asked, a bit worried considering his weak state.

"I wish Mommy would join me, but I'm a big boy. I'll manage," he assured you.

To be honest, you wished for the same thing, but business was business, and Inseong was just your customer - no matter how much fun you had ruining him each time.

"Thank you, really. I needed that so much," he said, dropping the character. "See you next week."

You stared at the door for a while after he left, pretty sure there was something that slipped your mind during the meeting.

At last, it hit you: Jaeyoon, probably matching Inseong's ideal buff type, working a 9-to-5 job in some corporation. Could he be your old acquaintance from the BDSM community you met at a self defense course? You wondered for a while at the possibility.

Opening the wardrobe, you briefly rested your eyes on the clock. Seven to twelve. No time to muse over the past; you hoped those two would get together eventually, because if Inseong was the supervisor Jaeyoon couldn't shut up about all those years ago, then… well, they had some catching up to do.

#sf9 scenarios #sf9 imagine #sf9 smut #inseong smut #inseong thirst #inseong scenario #inseong imagine #inseong x reader #i was away for a while #contemplating shutting down this blog #tell me if you liked this one :(

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moonctzeny · 4 years ago

Text

The Bet

au+trope+prompt game: coffee shop!au Mark + enemies to lovers + is that the best you can do?

pairing: mark lee + fem!reader

other members as background characters: lucas

genre: fluff (only some suggestive stuff)

word count: 3,796

warnings: slight objectification of reader, suggestive stuff, heavy making out, a boner, i guess a stockings kink

summary: “When you took that part time job as a barista at your local café, you only cared about grabbing your check while doing the least work possible. But when your supervisor, Mark Lee, keeps getting praised and winning ‘Employee Of The Month’, you offer a bet, to prove him that he’s no better than you. The outcome? Your relationship changing forever.”

a/n: hbd baby <3

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It started off as just a little part time job.

College life was not easy to cope with financially, and eating instant noodles for a week straight could only save you so much money. So when you saw the ‘Barista Wanted’ sign at the cafe that was just a block away from your house, you didn’t miss your chance for a few extra bucks. And that’s all that job would be for you. Doing the least work possible for the minimum wage you were given, if it wasn’t for him. Mark Lee.

Mark was sweet, honestly. He greeted you with a smile when you first came in and showed you around. He was a bit shy when he awkwardly stated that he was kind of like a supervisor there. But the way that the boss would go on and on about how great he was, every Monday morning, was starting to get annoying. So was his ability to always save your ass whenever you made a mess in front of your boss. So was his picture hanging in the “Employee Of The Month” frame right from across the bar. That kid won that title every.single.month. And no overtimes, sweeping or mopping from your part seemed to change your boss’s mind.

It all began when you and Lucas, another part-time worker whose shift started right after yours, were talking about whether you would make rent this month. Mark was sitting next to you, occupied with organizing some cups by size, but decided to chip in.

“Well”, he sighed “guess we’re just gonna have to eat the rich. Or take that pole dancing class you mentioned, Lucas.”

The taller boy found it funny, letting out his signature giggle and you would too, if Mark’s damn “Employee of the Month” picture wasn’t staring right into your soul, mocking you.

You rolled your eyes. “Not all of us are lucky enough to get that sweet I-love-kissing-the-boss’s-ass bonus every month, Lee”. Lucas whistled at your comment, used to your bickering but still very entertained.

“Careful how you speak to your supervisor, y/n or you’ll never get to be employee of the month”.

“Oh please”, you scoff “having extra keys to the back exit and cleaning the coffee machine twice a week? That’s wayyy too much responsibility”.

Sarcasm was dripping from your voice, but you were only half lying. You didn’t give a flying fuck for the position. You just wanted it because he had it. And that certain “he” was starting to get a little tired from your constant degradation. Mark smirked at you, but anger was evident on his expression.

“You should be thanking me, you know. At least you get to mooch off of my tips”.

Lucas yelled a drawn out “ooohhh” but you could barely hear him. Your eyes were piercing Mark’s, too busy keeping yourself from blurting out every profanity that came to your head in that moment. Instead, you took a deep breath.

“You think you make more tips than me?”, you asked calmly. Cockier than ever, the boy instantly replies with a “I know I do”, never breaking eye contact. This was your chance, you thought. The chance to prove yourself and shut him up for good.

“How about we make a little bet?”

Mark raised his bow-shaped brows, focusing his attention solely on you.

“Let’s put separate tip jars next to the cashing machine for the rest of the week. If I make more, you’ll convince the boss to remove that horrible frame for good”. He followed your eyes to his picture on the wall, and nodded.

“And when I win?”, he asked curiously and you chose to ignore his little play on words. You furrowed your brows, trying to think of a good motivation for him, as if his competitive nature wasn’t enough.

“OH! OH!” Lucas interrupted, “she can go on a date with that creepy friend of yours that always comes to the cafe to see her!”

Mark’s eyes instantly lit up at the idea. He handed out his pinky, looking to seal the deal with you.

“Bet’s on”, he said, with a seriousness that looked foreign on his cute features, and motioned to his pinky with his eyes, urging you to intertwine it with yours.

You sighed and walked away, muttering a “God, you are so lame”, but the next morning you came to work with a jar with your name written all pretty on it.

You didn’t really have a strategy per se. In fact, you had completely forgotten about the bet, too busy preparing orders and running around. You were cleaning up for Lucas to take your place in the shift, when you felt Mark looking down at you from the other side of the counter that usually separated you from the costumers. “May I be of help, sir?”, you asked him mockingly, not bothering to spare him a glance.

“You should wear those white thigh highs. You look cute in them.”

“Huh? What?”, you ask in confusion, still cleaning the surface carefully.

“In your date with Jason”, he explained with a teasing tone in his voice, Jason being his ‘creepy friend’ as Lucas calls him. Why did he have to piss you off right when you were ready to go home?

You continued to ignore him, only muttering a “I’m not going on that date”, when you hear a clinging sound and finally look up at Mark.

“You sure?”

He was holding the two tip jars, swinging them around. To your horror, Mark’s had more than twice the money than yours.

“WHAT??” you let out and immediately regretted it when some costumers looked at you like you were crazy. You continued with a whispered yell, “How the fuck did that happen??”

Mark grinned at you and lifted his shoulders innocently, before walking away. He must have cheated by slipping in coins when you weren’t looking, that sly motherfucker.

That’s it, you decided, on Wednesday you were going to spy on his every move.

After watching him intently for the whole morning, you came to the conclusion that Mark had a way of making everybody like him. Whether it was him memorizing the regulars and their orders, or asking them if they knew some random Will Smith song about Miami, he was always the textbook example of an eager, smiley and pleasant barista. Even you smiled at the sight of him fumbling with the pen when two pretty girls gave him their names to write on the coffee cups. He flashed them a smile and mumbled an apology, and you watched as they cooed at him and left a very generous tip. You were almost convinced by his adorable act, when he turned around and winked your way.

Ugh, you hated Mark Lee.

You decided that making a better connection with the customers was the way to go. You weren’t the type to start a conversation about the weather out of the blue, nor did you know any Will Smith songs, so you decided on drawing a little doodle on the cup next to their names with every order. The younger ones thought it was a nice addition to their snapchat story, the older ones found you cute. And as they came back for a coffee refill, your jar started filling up as well. It wasn’t much but you were getting closer to reaching the 3/4 of Mark’s tips, so you were pretty happy with yourself.

You were drawing a little heart for a latte when you smelled his cologne. You felt his breath pushing away at the hairs that were sticking out from your ponytail at the nape of your neck. You hated how it sent a shiver to your spine, how it made your hands a little shaky and how the heart drawing turned out a little wonky.

Mark was your “enemy” and your supervisor and Mr. Annoyingly Perfect but Mark was also hot. You would never admit it, but you even had a little crush on him when you started working there. You might pull a disgusted face every time Lucas tells you that the solution to your constant bickering was to “just fuck already”, but you wondered whether it was his oblivion to your crush that made your little hatred towards him grow. And you’d be lying if you said that you never stared at his cute ass sticking out of his apron a second too long, or that it didn’t turn you on when he got pissed at the ice getting stuck in the blender.

So now that he was almost pressing against you from behind, closer than ever, you wouldn’t mind at all. That is if he didn’t open his god damn mouth.

“Really?”, he scoffed “Is that the best you can do?”

His tone was so condescending that it made you furious, pressing your nails in the paper cup, and you were surprised that the liquid didn’t spill everywhere. He gave you a victorious smirk from getting that reaction out of you, and you wanted to punch it right off of his face.

Oh, that meant war.

On Thursday morning, you walked in looking the best you’ve ever looked for a morning shift. You had your hair in pigtails, hair bands matching the color of your lowcut dress. Your lengthened the straps of your apron, your cleavage not leaving much to the imagination.

It was ridiculous, you thought, how many tips a push up bra can get you. It only took a couple customers for the word to spread and the horny men to line up at the cafe. You batted your eyelashes at them, the “Good morning, I’m here to serve you, how can I help you sir?”driving them nuts. You had to say it every time, shop’s policy, but now it sounded more suggestive than ever. You were disgusted by their gawking eyes and terrible attempts at flirting, but you had a goal.

And hell were you winning. You weren’t sure if it was your jar that was filling up at an amazing rate or your outfit, but that was the first time you ever saw Mark make a mistake in his orders. You swore you felt his gaze following you around all day, murmuring something to himself every time a customer asked him if the pretty girl could serve them instead.

It was the end of the shift, and you were happily chatting with Lucas as you were cleaning up the counter. He was doing a terrible job at keeping his eyes away from your chest, but when it came to someone as good looking as him, you really didn’t mind the attention. You took your apron off and started folding it neatly when Mark took your wrist and dragged you into the storage room.

He held a bunch of wrinkly paper towels in his hands. You noticed something was written with a pen messily on each of them.

“This is the seventh phone number that a dude has given me today”, he told you as he stared into your eyes, careful not to move his gaze any more south. It was your turn to mess with him.

“Well good for you”, you said with a smile, “Didn’t know you were so popular with men, Mark”

He closed his eyes, trying to control his temper, and shoved the towels towards you.

“They’re for you. They asked me to pass them to you. After the third guy I forgot what their names were but you can figure them out yourself”. You took them from him with a quiet “oh, thanks” and he sighed.

“You can’t come in here looking like that. This is a workplace.”

You looked at him with wide eyes and fake innocence. “Like what? What’s wrong with my outfit?”. His patience was running short.

“Why don’t you ask Lucas” he replied, with a tone that started to piss you off.

“If you can’t control your hormones like you’re some teenage boys, that’s not my prob-“ you start but he cuts you off. You had never seen him act so stern.

“We have a dress code. Maybe the boss can remind you, if you want”.

It was the first time Mark had actually pulled the supervisor card on you and you felt a little hurt by the coldness of his voice. You swear you saw a bit of instant regret in his eyes but you decided to leave the matter alone, and left the storage room after ostentatiously throwing the phone numbers in the bin next to the door.

Friday was the last day of the bet. You didn’t show up with a flashy outfit, because 1) you didn’t want to risk losing your job for a stupid bet and 2) because straight men were annoying and so were their pickup lines that you didn’t want to deal with. You did wear the white thigh highs Mark mentioned though, with a skirt whose length followed the dress code, just to tease him a little bit. You had never worn them in work before, but when you ran across Mark one day on your way home from a girls’ night out, both a little drunk and disoriented, he didn’t hide his admiration towards them.

He noticed right away when you walked in the café this afternoon. Fridays were the only days when you took the later shift instead of the morning one. You hated it because that meant having to work with Mark until closing, and due to his perfectionism you’d always be staying with him overtime, cleaning every inch of the place, and never participating in any Friday parties that your friends hosted.

You were a little worried that things would be awkward between you after your little argument yesterday, but when he pointed at your stockings and asked if you were “dressed up for the date already”, you knew he didn’t keep any hard feelings and neither did you. What you didn’t expect was his jar to be as full as yours, if not more.

You panicked, and took Lucas to the side, making him promise that he would tell you if he had cheated while you were gone or not. He shrugged.

“Sorry, pretty, no cheating. A high school visited the park across the street as a field trip. The girls went crazy over him. Pretty sure they spent all their allowance here”.

At that you dropped your shoulders in defeat and worked your shift with a pout on your face. You wouldn’t take the humiliation of losing the bet, especially after the little stunt you pulled on Thursday. The hours went by agonizingly slow, and the moment you were dreading finally came.

You turned the “Sorry, we’re closed” sign at the glass entrance door, as you were mopping the floor. All the costumers were gone, and your boss had left the keys to you and Mark, asking you to lock up instead as he had ‘an errand to run’. You wished that your coworker would somehow forget about your bet and spare you the embarrassment, but instead, he gave you a devilish side smirk and motioned you to come closer.

He emptied his jar first, and started counting out loud in front of you, insisting that you do it out together so as not to pull any “funny business”.

40 bucks. It wasn’t bad, it was good actually, and you groaned, now feeling more nervous than ever.

Mark on the other hand, relaxed his shoulders and happily started counting your tips this time. His smile started to wear off, though, as you did much better that he thought. You were neck-to-neck, figuratively and almost literally, as your heads nearly bumped together in deep concentration.

“37,38,39,40…41,42,43” he whispered out and you couldn’t believe your eyes.

You won. You actually won. You never had to see that stupid “Employee Of The Month” frame ever again and most importantly, you were finally better than Mark at something.

You let out a high-pitched squeal, jumping up and down excitedly on your spot, strikingly different that the boy next to you, who was frozen in place.

“I woooon” you teased him with a sing-song voice “and you looooost, loserrr”

It was an understatement to say that Mark was fuming.

“It’s not fair!” he yelled and pointed an accusing finger towards you. You rolled your eyes and walked further back, next to the counter with the coffee machines, happily swinging your hips.

“Don’t be a sore loser Mark, I won fair and square”

“I’m not a sore loser!”, he whines, “I was at a disadvantage!”

You raise an eyebrow and turn towards him, to see that he had taken a few steps at your direction. “Oh yeah? And what is that?”

“You’re hot!”, he groans and rubs his hands over his face. “Hell, I would die from a caffeine overdose if it meant seeing you with your little pigtails and that top and that smile, ready to ‘serve me, sir’”

You could feel your ears and cheeks turning on fire and you’d blame it on the flattery, but his horrible high-pitched impression of your voice was what made you too angry to fully process what he said.

You grabbed a syrup bottle from the counter behind you and pointed it towards his face.

“Ugh, Mark! You’re so annoying! Why do you always need to be the best at everything!”

You barged into him, squeezing the bottle over his face. With his quick reflexes he swiftly grabbed your hand, successfully immobilizing you, but you had already managed to get a big, fat line of syrup right across his lips.

In a moment of clarity, you stopped resisting and became aware of the position you and Mark were in. You had moved backwards as a result of your fight, the countertop digging in your lower back. His one hand was grabbing at your lifted arm by the wrist, the other resting on the marbled surface behind you in an effort to detain you. To top it all off, you stared at the mess you made on his lips, coupled by the unreadable look on his eyes.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you thought. This is your supervisory/n! You know, the guy in charge when the boss is gone? The guy that you basically jumped because of a stupid bet? That you actually won? But will still get you fired?

You were getting ready to move away and profusely apologize to Mark, your eyes frantically moving from his eyes, to his lips, to his “Employee Of The Month” picture from across the room. He, however, stayed still, only releasing your wrist to now place his hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Clean this mess”, he demanded, in a tone you would have never expected from Mark, “immediately”

In the seconds that followed his demand, the tension between you two was thicker than the drizzle that still decorated his mouth. He came even closer, your noses only a centimeter apart, his fingers pressing on your face lightly.

You were worried whether you read the room wrong or not, because if you did, your next move would most certainly get you fired.

He could barely hear your whispered “here to serve you” before you finally closed the distance between you.

You pulled his bottom lip between your lips, your tongue shyly sweeping across it, collecting the syrup that was starting to dry into a sugary paste. He was soft like a cloud and tasted like caramel. You repeated the motion for his top lip when you felt him melt into your kiss. The moment was sweet like the taste in your mouth, but it changed as soon as you felt him grab the back of your thighs, lifting you on the top of the counter.

You matched his hunger by sucking on his bottom lip this time, determined to clean him up as best as you could. He moaned your name into the kiss, his fingertips digging in the inside of his favorite thigh highs. Your skirt had well ridden up, allowing him to pinch the fabric of one of them.

“These” he started, his lips now sucking on your neck, “almost cost me my supervisor’s position with all the messing up they made me do”

He let the elastic snap against your thigh, earning a small gasp from you and you decided to tease him a little.

“Is that so huh? Because I’m so hot? With my boobs and my pigtails and my willingness to serve?” you ask with a laugh, and you feel him smile against his deep kiss over your pulse, grabbing your legs to scoot your ass and pull you closer.

“Because you’ve been driving me crazy ever since you got this job. And because you look so fucking sexy when you’re mad”

His boldness made you desperate as you tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled him back up into a passionate kiss. It was sticky and hot and full of tongue, and you felt something poking on the inside of your thigh before a loud noise made you snap and pull away from each other in shock.

You looked at the floor to see a, thankfully not broken, but dismantled blender, that you must have pushed off the counter in the heat of the moment. You stare down at Mark as you both laugh at the situation, his hair messy and lips swollen and you know you definitely mirrored his look.

He cleared his throat. “Uhh, not that I don’t enjoy this, cause I really do, but if we keep at it Lucas is going to be the next Employee Of The Month, and not only is that ridiculous, but we would both basically lose our little bet”

You laughed at his comment and let your feet dangle awkwardly, your cheeks heating at the thought of what might have happened if you two had kept going.

“I’m sorry for being such a bitch about your framed picture” you said with a small voice, avoiding his gaze “you don’t have to take it down”

He smiled at your attempt at peace as he picked up the blender pieces and skillfully riveted them in place. Your eyes suddenly widened before adding, “I will NOT go on a date with your creepy friend though”

Mark giggled at that and shook his head before returning his eyes back at you. His cheeks were flushed a crimson red, deep in thought.

“How about me?” he blurted, “I mean, how about going on a date with me instead?”

You nodded your head, reaching a hand out to fix the messy locks out of his eyes.

“Yes. I think I’d love that”

#mark lee scenarios #nct scenarios #mark lee #mark lee fluff #nct fluff #mark lee birthday #nct au #nct 127 #superm

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years ago

Text

EUPHORIA - Chapter 14

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, owner of a shady night club. She’s a journalist who has been asked to write an article to expose the indecency and debauchery that’s going on behind closed doors. But he’s also Dean Winchester, the boy who sat next to her in class. The boy who was too cocky for his own good.

Chapter Warning: Flangst

WC: 2754

A/N: This chapter fills my ‘shower sex’ square for @spnkinkbingo Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons <3

This series is more than two weeks ahead on patreon!

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

Dean’s in his office with Cas. Two security guys are sitting on the couch. The police came again to ask questions, and they just left a moment ago.

He walks to the little bar and pours himself a whiskey. Is 4pm too early to drink? Yeah, it probably is, but he doesn’t really fucking care.

And he woke up feeling so damn good, seeing her dancing naked in his apartment. He watched her doing a victory dance, felt like he had a victory of his own — it went downhill from there. Well, apart from the morning sex. And the second morning sex in the shower. That was pretty memorable, if he’s honest. He thinks back to how he pushed her up against the tiles, pushes his cock into her. Thinks about how she comes around his cock, how her nails claw into his back, marking him up. He lets her down and turns her around then, pushes her against the glass of the shower, slips into her again, bottoming out and fucking her while he spanks her ass raw. He wishes that he could turn back time. Just a little.

Nonetheless, the morning left a bittersweet taste in his mouth. Can’t lie, he was quite irritated that she already found an apartment, and almost wanted to tell her not to take it. But what can he do about it really? Nothing. It is what it is, and well, it’s not like they will stop seeing each other. Because he’s not giving that up so easily.

It’s just—

—he can’t even really explain it. It’s not like he experienced anything like it before either. If Dean had to describe it, he’d say that it’s the feeling of wanting to spend 24/7 with her and only her , and that pisses him off because he has to be a fucking adult about it. It’s especially rubbing him the wrong way, now knowing that someone is after him — and by proxy is after her as well — and he’d just rather know at all fucking times that she’s alright.

Cas is still laughing his ass off and that just makes him grumpier.

��Cas, you done there?” Dean snarls at his friend and sits down on the couch with a groan. Sex twice this morning is taking a toll on him too. He’s not seven-fucking-teen anymore.

“It’s funny when you think about it, no?” Cas tries his best to suppress his grin.

Cas is laughing about the fact that the police want the list of people who hold a grudge against Dean. Which is probably longer than he cares to admit, hence Cas’ stupid laugh.

It’s Dean’s own fault really, he wasn’t exactly known as the golden boy growing up. And even in the business world, he had more beef with people than not. There’s a long list of displeased women as well, and Dean doesn’t even know all their names.

So now, instead of maybe spending the evening with her, Dean has to fucking write up a list to hand over to the police as soon as possible.

Great.

That’s just what he needs today.

Dean’s still on that fucking list and it’s 11pm. He was supposed to take a night off — at least that’s what he told Cas, because he wants to be with her as long as she’s staying with him. He remembers her saying that she’s going into work in the evening because Rufus wants to talk about the article she’s writing about his club. They actually never talked about it again. Dean’s not sure if she’s going to write it at all.

But he’s almost finished with the list, so there’s that. Maybe another hour — if he’s lucky.

He decides to take a short break and send her a text.

D: Are you upstairs? Sorry, it’s going to be a while longer till I’m finished.

Watching his screen, he sees that she’s reading it, sees her typing back a reply.

Y/N: Don’t worry about it. Just finishing up.

D: Should I come pick you up?

He kinds of hopes that she’ll say yes. Dean thinks that he could use a distraction. Writing up names of people who might want bad things to happen to him is not exactly a joyous task.

Y/N: Don’t worry, Rufus will drop me off. I’ll see you later!

Right, so back to the list it is. Dean sighs before he gets up to pour himself another whiskey.

“You’re smiling. Why are you smiling?” Rufus asks. His desk is right across from hers.

“Why? Does my smile irritate you?” Y/N’s smirking as she looks at her supervisor.

“Damn well, it irritates me!” Rufus shouts and she flinches but his face softens afterwards, lips pulling into a smile, “It’s that Winchester boy, isn’t it?”

“Nah,” She’s quick to say, and Rufus chuckles. She knows he doesn’t believe her.

“Have you thought about the article yet?” He says, sitting back in his chair.

They’ve been discussing it before and he leaves it up to her. She doesn’t know why he asks again. She can’t possibly have made up her mind after six hours. Y/N needs more time than that.

“I don’t know,” She sighs, “I’ll meet Mrs. Mills in two days. I’ll let her speak, let her explain and try to understand her side of things.”

That’s new to Rufus. He was on a break when she talked to Jody Mills.

Rufus nods, “You know that you can pull out of it, I gave you the permission to.”

“I know. Thanks, Rufus.”

She hears him clicking on his mouse, hears the computer being shut down.

He stands up, “You’re happy Y/N, I can tell.”

She gnaws on her bottom lip and it spreads into a smirk, “I am,”

“Good. That’s good,” Rufus says, picking up his suit jacket to put it on, “I love seeing you happy. I don’t even think I’ve seen you happy. And if it’s all that Winchester boy’s doing, I’d say that you should keep him close. He’s a good one, I can tell. He was being all proper when I talked to him last.”

She has to smile at that, because yeah, it sounds like Dean. He always has a way to charm himself out of any kind of situation. It’s frustrating really, because the teachers let him get away with so much. Especially the female teachers.

“Seriously, Y/N,” Rufus says as he waits for her to pick up her things to drive her to Dean’s, “I mean it. If anyone deserves a little happiness, it’s you. And if he should cross you, let me know, I have five dogs and some friends.”

“I will,” She snorts, has to hold back a laugh. But it’s cute and she really appreciates Rufus’s protectiveness over her.

Y/N decides to drop by his office before going up to the loft. She finds Dean hunched over his desk, his head rests on his arms.

Approaching carefully, she reaches out a hand, touches his shoulder and Dean jolts up. In that moment, his computer screen comes back to life as well. She really didn’t want to look but she couldn’t not notice the list of names. Male and female ones alike. She’s curious what it’s about, but again, it’s not really her place to ask. The title of the document says Potential Leads . Her trained eyes can not unsee that.

Dean sits up straight, pinches at the bridge of his nose and then he rolls his chair back and grabs at her wrist, pulling her sideways into his lap with a force that makes her squeal in delight. She ends up giggling on his lap while Dean kisses the tip of her nose, her cheek, the corner of her mouth.

“How are you?” He asks, his hand strokes at her thigh while the other one tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear. He lets his fingertips travel over her cheeks and her nose, as if her face is written in braille and he wants to memorize and read every word.

“Good,” She answers him and leans down, buries her forehead into the crook of his neck, scruff rough on her skin. She smells his cologne, his musk from the day. Her nose brushes against his throat and she nuzzles her face deeper into it while he wraps his arms around her, “Not as tired as you, apparently,” She says with a smirk.

It feels good being with him, and she can’t help to fall for Dean. It’s just a couple of days but it feels right, it feels like she’s found the piece of the puzzle she’s been missing growing up. She wonders if it’ll stay good. Good things never last in her life. She can’t help but feel a little sad that she’s going to move out, even though it's what she wants. Although it’s convenient this way. It’s convenient to come home to him and they get to see each other without having to schedule anything. Without having to send out texts and making calls, asking when they both will be free or available.

Oh well, one can’t have it all, she knows that.

Dean tilts his head, leaves a lingering kiss on her forehead, “Yeah, I’m tired. Why don’t you go up and I’ll finish here. I promise I won’t be long.”

She sits up, looks him in the eye. They’re weary. There’s clearly something that bothers him, “Is something wrong?” She asks, because she can not not ask.

“Nah,” He sighs and places his lips to her temple.

They sit in silence for a little while until Dean starts to speak again, “I get threats every now and then but lately, it increased and they damaged some property. The police just want some names, but it’s really nothing for you to be worried about, okay?”

She frowns and Dean thumbs at the crease between her eyebrows, “Is that common in your line of work?”

Dean snorts, “Yeah, pretty much. There are a lot of jealous people,” He pulls her closer, hugging her tighter and rests his chin on the top of her head, “I can deal with it, but it’s a whole different story if you’re involved.”

Her ear is on his chest and she hears the bass of his voice vibrating.

“‘S that why you’re worried about my safety?”

“Uh-huh,”

Y/N takes time to think and then it dawns on her, “You think the break in of my apartment has something to do with it?”

He breathes evenly but she can hear his heartbeat picking up pace, “I don’t know. I don’t think so, and I hope it was just a coincidence.” With his next breath he adds, “I’m sorry, it’s just… I never had a woman as close to me as you are now, and I guess that makes you a target and my Achilles heel. In hindsight, I should have never taken you to the party. I’m sorry about that.” He kisses the top of her head.

She doesn’t really care about the threats, though. All she heard was the fact that he said that she’s the first woman that’s been close to him. She wants to ask him if it’s true. If she’s the first one who has got to know the real Dean. If she’s the first one he really cares about. But she doesn’t ask, thinks it’s not really the right time.

“‘S okay,” She says, nuzzles her face deeper into the base of his throat, “I’m a big girl. I can handle what life throws at me.”

“I know that,” Dean chuckles, “But I would be super bummed if you were to be harmed.”

Y/N frowns, “You think they will go that far?”

Dean shrugs, “I don’t know. Fact is, you’re my girl, and I need you to be careful out there, alright?”

My girl.

Her heart flutters at that.

She chuckles softly and Dean pushes her away a little,

“What?” He asks but he’s smirking.

Still grinning, she says, “You said I’m your girl,”

He smiles and tucks her hair behind both her ears with his hands, leaves them on the side of her face, cradling it between his big palms, “That’s because you are,” He moves closer, their noses touch, lips ghosting over each others, “Wouldn’t want to have any other,” He kisses her, soft and gently, tongue teasing along her teeth. She tastes whiskey on the tip of his tongue.

Just when she wants to melt into the kiss, Dean breaks it abruptly, “You should go up so I can finish this. If you stay, I don’t think I can keep my hands to myself.”

Chuckling, she kisses his nose and gets up from his lap.

It’s an hour later when Dean finishes and he’s so goddamn tired, he almost crawls along the floor to his loft. Lack of sleep last night and being on edge the whole day does weird things to your body.

He finds her in bed, laying on her stomach, reading. And she’s wearing only panties. Dean shrugs off his jacket right by the door, drops it and begins to unbutton his shirt while he strolls closer to the bed. Next he works on his pants and leaves a trail of clothes along the way.

When he’s standing by the foot of the bed, he’s only dressed in his underwear and his dick stirs in his pants. He tries his best to ignore it.

Dean crawls up to her, spreads kisses on both her ass cheeks and rests his head on it, using her butt as a comfortable pillow, “So tired,” He groans and she chuckles. Her hand reaches behind to thread through the top of his head and Dean leans into the touch, bathes himself in the feel.

Before he can make himself too comfortable, he pushes himself away, “I’m taking a quick shower,”

He showers real quick, still ignoring his dick that’s already hard and heavy, because that’s not what he wants right now — which is weird because it’s almost always what he wants. Guess she changed him.

Dean walks out, his body still damp, a pair of fresh underwear on, and crawls into bed. She’s already waiting, has abandoned her book and is curled up on her side. He spoons her from behind and she turns herself, curls against his side and buries her face into the crook of his neck. He feels her naked chest pressing against his.

When she looks up to him, Dean steals a kiss, kissing her forehead while he tucks her hair behind her ear. His thumb paints along her eyebrow, her nose, down to her lips. He kisses her, all soft and smooth, the hand that’s on her waist kneads her flesh.

She bucks her hips, grinding her lower body against him and he has to chuckle. She’s a needy little thing but he’s not going to give in. Instead, he manhandles her around, buries his face into the nape of her neck, spraying kisses there, “Baby, we should get some sleep,”

Y/N whines at that, backs up her ass into his bulge but Dean’s hand is on her waist, holds her steady. After a while, she gives up.

He’s stroking her with one hand while she lies in his arm, hand travelling over bumpy territory, trying to memorize her every crease and every bump with the tip of his fingers. He listens to her steady heartbeat, listens to her breathing even out.

No, sex is definitely not the only thing he wants with her. He wants all the other things right now, and he doesn’t even know himself anymore. It’s different with her. He doesn’t want her to think that it’s only about the club. That it’s only about the rooms he shows her.

Dean thinks that everyone can like the wonderful part of a person. The trick is to accept their flaws. In this short time, he has learned to accept her flaws, can honestly and truly say that he can work with them, can work around them, can make something out of it. The good things, he knows, will always be there. It’s the things underneath that are challenging. But it’s a challenge he’s ready to face.

Fuck , Dean thinks to himself, he’s falling fast down the rabbit hole that is her and even though it should scare him—

—strangely, it doesn’t.

Chapter 15

#euphoria #spnkinkbingo #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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boogiewrites · 4 years ago

Text

Never Break the Chain Pt 5

Part 5 of 5

Characters: Javier Peña x OFC

Summary: Reunited after their deadly close encounter. They finally have time to ask the right questions and give honest answers.

Warnings/Tags: Sexual Content. Lover’s reunited. Confessions of Love.

Getting shot was never part of the plan, but it was always an option she had to consider. She was already marked and scarred, not the first time she'd been shot, but the first time in the shoulder. Needless to say, it fucking hurt.

Staggering, bloody through the streets was awkward enough, being shirtless turned it into a circus attraction. She had to shove with her good arm through concerned passersby and made her way as quickly as she could to her bike. It was a good trek, but far away from the action. She had a jacket in the side bag, and that had one problem fixed. The other, a much larger one was leaking out of her sleeve and throbbing through her entire body every time she moved, which was as little as she could manage. Being the sinful girl scout she was, she was always prepared, which meant knowing where she could go if she was shot. It was always a smart move to have blackmail on a veterinarian. She wobbly directed her bike with only one truly useful arm and braced herself for a very painful experience.

-------------

As soon as his eyes opened in the hospital room, he was being asked questions. The last thing you want to do after losing so much blood and being shot with surgery on top of that was be interrogated. But here he was. After giving his signature attitude that no supervisor had ever enjoyed dealing with, he was left alone. He finally knew some peace after a week or so, laying with eyes closed, healing up well he was told, now waiting out infection just to be safe. He’d never passed out from blood loss before, and he would be lying if he didn’t feel every second his age while he had been in the hospital. The bare walls and sterile fixtures didn’t help make him feel any warmer or comfortable. The pain medicine in his IV did though.

Murphy comes in, an eyebrow raised and a grunt in response to the appearance of his partner was given in acknowledgment.

“I know. I look like shit.” Javi smarts, adjusting himself to sit more upright, a pull in his side still noticeable but no longer grating.

“If you’re aware of that I guess that marks off one of my theories.”

“You? Have a theory?” Javi snarks, leaning back, propped up and hands across his stomach.

“I thought you might’ve had brain damage.” Murphy grins. “Claiming you didn’t know who that woman was we saw.”

“You didn’t say anything did you?”

“Don’t insult me, man.”

“Good.”

“They’re pretty fuckin’ annoyed with you right now.” the observation draws a chuckle from Murphy.

“Good. They’re only going to get more mad.”

“I can see why you’d wanna protect her though.”

A raised eyebrow was all that was needed to ask a question.

“They not tell you about anything that happened after you passed out?”

There's a pause as a wave of subdued anger rises on Javi’s face.

“I got to ya first. I peek over the edge of the roof and there she was…” he holds his arms out, a dramatic retelling for no other reason than to take his sweet time and annoy his partner. “You sure can pick ‘em Javi. She was standing there like some Colombian centerfold with no shirt on, hair all wild. I would’ve thought I’d just interrupted you two having a good time if I didn’t know better.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Shirtless?”

“Still had her bra on. Unfortunately.” Steve huffs out a laugh at him and the annoying twitch in Javi’s crow’s feet. “She made her shirt into a tourniquet for you, man. It was ripped and holding your guts in. You’ve got to thank that pretty little lady for saving your ass.”

He sits silently for a moment. “No wonder they thought I was working with the narcos.” he says quietly.

“They told you that?”

“Not outright.” he shakes his head.

“I guess you don’t know about what Trujillo did then huh?”

A sharp turn to face Murphy and a glare told him to spit it out fast.

“I saw her and she had her hands up, let me know you were shot. The sweet thing said, Murphy...Please don’t let him die.”

A twitch of his nose and an uncomfortable grunt show the emotion Javi was willing to show about the heartfelt statement.

“So I put my gun down, cause I figured I knew it was your girl. Who else would be willing to save you and put herself out like that? Unfortunately...Trujillo wasn’t aware of that.” he pauses for a moment, a wince to tell Javi the rest. “And he shot at her.”

“Shot AT her or shot HER.” Javi immediately demands clarification.

“Both.” he shrugs.

“Why the fuck am I just finding this out? Is she alive?” he begins getting out of bed, his torso pulling forward before Steve holds an arm out to keep him down.

“Woah, she should be, man, don’t get your panties in a bunch. She jumped off the roof and I was honestly a bit worried he’d hit her, but when I looked down there was a mess of a dumpster and a blood trail out to the street. You were right about her being good.”

“I know I was.” his brow furrows, immediately preoccupied with her again. “You should check the-”

“Hospitals, I know. I already did. Nothing. I would’ve been in to see you way sooner if she was dead.”

Javi looks away and that’s the closest to a thank you Murphy will get, but it was enough.

----------------------

The first night back in his apartment Javi sat and smoked by an open window, half expecting Esme to show up, a pop of black hair over the edge of the roof but she never came. He could swear she said she wanted to stay with him, or there was something building when the moment was ripped away. He wanted to be angry and tell himself he was being stupid, but he couldn’t help but think he was recalling correctly.

-----

He had finally gone back to work. He hadn’t foreseen a warm welcome but being reprimanded and lectured hadn’t been what he expected either. He was too distracted, not trustworthy, a rebel, a loose cannon. All things he’d heard before. This time they focused on his history with women. Both professionally and personally, the experience was vast. He had pulled more visas out of thin air than anyone in the DEA. His methods worked, yes it was sleeping with his informants and gaining their trust but it was a perk to a transaction that always worked. Because of Esme’s unknown identity, they had nothing concrete about him having connections with the groups they were after. He wouldn’t budge in telling them and they couldn’t accept that. So now he was too lenient on women, they said. His judgment couldn't be trusted because he could be compromised. To say he was pissed was an understatement. Had this suspension and possible reassignment after a board review been something he thought could happen? Of course. That didn’t mean he had to take it well or be happy about it.

He went to a bar, Murphy giving apologetic glances and slaps to the back between snarky remarks to break the tension. Javi knew he meant well, but his mind was elsewhere. He sauntered home, a warm belly of the contents of a few highball glasses and a glare on his face. He didn’t contain his annoyance as he let his boots hit heavy up the stairs and his shoulder jam against his door before opening it and twisting the lock hard. A more vulnerable groan, his hands running down his face after throwing the contents of his pockets onto the counter diffuse through a quiet and dark apartment. The warm light from the street lamps outside seep in through the thin curtains, a light breeze causes them to sway against their thicker partners that provided a shield from the sun during the day. He moves towards a window, feet dragging slightly, lighting a cigarette that illuminates him in orange and red for just a moment before the billowing smoke frames his face, half-lit in Rembrandt lighting by the mix of the moon and artificial light.

“Bad day Javi?”

He hears from the direction of the chair in his living room. Any other voice he would’ve turned and leaped for his gun and aimed, but he shut his eyes and took another patient inhale and exhale.

“I was wondering when you’d show up.”

“You should have better security for your place.” she smiles but he doesn’t see it, she admires him for a moment before standing.

“Not many have the balls to break into a cop's apartment.”

“It’s not a matter of excess balls, but lack of brains.”

He turns to see her in a dress, ruffles on the edges and red as blood fitting her loose and tucked in at the waist. A matching flower sat in her hair, woven espadrilles on her feet made her look like any other beautiful woman he’d look twice at on the street. He could see her green eyes gazing at him doe-like and calm in the low light. They gave away that she was special, not by their color but in how they looked at him. No other woman had looked at him like that. He would’ve sworn all the answers he needed were right there in her eyes as she approached him, he could’ve almost gone on without the need to say his questions out loud. But he was never one to act without proof.

He looked her up and down, a cigarette resting between his lips before he pulled out a chair next to the small kitchen table against the windowed wall. “I’d ask what took you so long but by comparison, you didn’t make me wait long at all this time.” He begins taking off his boots, giving her time to respond and appear calmer about her appearance than he was.

“I had things to take care of.” She pauses, hip against the kitchen counter observing him and appreciating seeing how his jeans pulled tight across his thighs and hips as he moved.

He looks her over again, her relaxed stance, weight on her arm resting as he took a long drag. He stands and walks over, his significantly taller frame, even minus the boots, takes his time taking her in. He selfishly makes her wait, drinks her in, pushing her hair off her shoulders and almost touching the bare skin of her decolletage. “Is it true that you got shot?”

She nods and motions with her head, “In the shoulder.”

He takes his liberties and pulls the sleeve of her dress down to expose a fresh pink scar. “Still hurt?”

“Does yours?” a light touch to his side for a moment, barely outstretching her arm for how close they stood. Personal space wasn’t something either of them was interested in when they were together.

“Sometimes.” he admits.

She nods in agreement. “Yeah, sometimes.” is her quiet answer. He leans down for a moment and kisses the blemish on her shoulder.

“You could’ve let me know you were okay.” she was prepared for anger, which she deserved, admittedly, but she wasn’t met with it. His eyes were dark and deep, looking over her wound where his thumb was currently tracing.

“I didn’t want to risk being seen.” he keeps his eyes on her scar, his brow low and to anyone else, he would read as angry, but she knew he was just thinking, wheels turning and recalling the day she received the mark. “What did work say?”

“Why?”

“Call me curious.”

“I’d much rather hear what you have to say.” he meets her eyes again but he’s faced with the look of insistence a woman gives a man she loves. “Alright,” he sighs. “I'm under review. They wanted me to give you up, tell them who you were but... “ he shrugs, needless to say, he didn’t give them so much as her alias. “They don’t trust me. Too many favors pulled to cover other people’s asses finally caught up to me.”

She nods, looking away in thought for a moment. “You were too good in other words.” she finally answers, reaching out to take the hand that had been anchored to his jutted-out hip.

“Me?” he lets out a chuckle, another inhale, blown away from her face. “I’m not the one who lost their shirt saving my ass from getting shot.” he grins and nods down at her. “I’ve been told I should thank you for saving my life.” he takes one last drag before snuffing out the cherry in the ashtray on the counter.

“It was nothing.” she lied and matched his grin.

“If you’re so bad at lying, how have you not been caught yet?” a teasing squeeze of her hand as the pair rest in the small space between them. “Wasn’t nothing.” his other, now free, hand rests on her scarred arm. “Getting shot for me is something. Men get medals for that shit.”

“But I’m not a man. Just a topless woman who’s stupid enough to risk her life for one.”

A soft huff of amusement is shared between them. “So that part was true?” his smile reaches up to his eyes before he pulls her in to kiss her head and her laugh gives him his answer. “I really wish I hadn’t been a chicken shit and passed out. Would’ve liked to have seen that. ”

“Play your cards right and you still might,” she smirks. “But I believe we have a conversation to finish first.”

“So I didn’t dream all that?”

“No, you didn’t.” a soft and gentle answer, her eyes tender as they looked up to his face. He sees the lump in her throat bob before she speaks. “Where did we leave off?” She sounded a touch uncertain.

“You gonna act like you haven’t been playing it over and over in your head this whole time?” His head ducks down to eyeball her and she gives him an unexpected smile that grows up to her eyes.

Touching his face she lets out a wistful sigh, thumb dragging on his clean-shaven cheek. “I didn’t even realize how much I missed you until I saw you again.”

The sentiment was a punch in the gut that softened him, clearing his throat he looks away almost bashfully for a moment.

“Once I saw you that night in the jewelry store you haven’t been far from my mind. And since that kiss…” her eyes move to his lips and he nervously wets them. Only she could make him nervous. He lost the power balance when he was with her and it felt new, almost scary again. It made his old bones feel like a kid again when she said sweet things to him. “I would’ve come to see you sooner if I could have. I’m sorry. I worried the whole time if that’s any consolation.”

“I worried about you too. Always have.” He speaks quietly and almost mumbles the latter, turning to kiss her palm that had started stroking into his hair absent-mindedly. “I thought if I ever saw you again I would give you a piece of my mind. I'd tell you everything I’d built up in my head all these years.” His eyes move to her marked shoulder and he places his hand over hers. “But you’re making it hard on a man, sweetheart… looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” She quietly laughs and moves her chest to his, her other hand moving to hold his face and he encapsulates her other hand

“Like you used to. Like you love me.” There’s a pause and the cards are on the table. Neither was the type to fold and bluffing wasn’t an option in this company.

“That’s because I do.” She shakes her head. “I didn’t want to leave you, Javi.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

“I had to find out for myself, didn't I? I’m as hard-headed as you are, no one could tell me nothin’ at that age. I had big dreams, ones I couldn’t reach if I was with you.”

“What about now?”

“Now?”

“Could you reach them if you were with me now?”

She smiles almost condescendingly at him. “That’s why I’m here.” She whispers and gives him a small kiss to his lips before pulling away and moving farther into the room. “I just finished a job.”

His hands fall to his sides, holding to hers until they’re forced to let go. “And?”

“It was my goal. For a long time. I wanted to work with a billionaire and I have. So now I’m faced with what to do next.”

“Well, what do you want?” He takes slow steps towards her.

“You.” She looks his way with her big green eyes shining.

“How may I be of service?” He holds his arms out in offering.

She takes almost a full minute to speak and a worry grows in his gut as he musters all his patience to wait. “I’m tired, Javi.” Is the response she finally sighs out and meets his eyes.

With a furrowed brow he begins to move her towards the couch. “Well you were shot hun-“

“No. Not like that.” She stops him and her fingers pick at each other. “I want... this to be over.”

“You’re gonna have to give me a little more than that, sweetheart.”

“I was wrong. I can admit that now... now that I’ve found you again. I’m tired of this life. This... running. I’m tired of not being able to trust anyone and being alone and getting hurt and taking this disrespect from these men and-“

He shushes her as she speaks faster and grows more upset. “Take a breath baby, you’re fine. You’re with me. Nothin bad's gonna happen as long as I’m with you alright?” He says it and means it, an honesty she meets in his eyes that makes hers well up.

“I know. That’s why I don’t want it anymore. I want you. I want to be with you. I want to have that quiet life where nothing happens. I want to wake up and know we’re safe. Together.” She wraps her arms around him and he holds her tightly. She doesn’t cry but the sting is red on her face.

He stands and considers this confession, one he’s only had in his wildest dreams. While stroking her hair a million scenarios run through his mind. He eventually settles on one. “I’m tired too.”

It’s a simple sentence but it spoke volumes between them. “I have enough money, Javi. Enough for us to be happy somewhere.”

“You want to run?”

She feels the burn of reality in her chest. “I don’t know any other way.”

He looks away into the empty and dark room, hands on her face and stroking her temples. “Fuck…” he exhales. “I don’t either.” He shakes his head before looking back at her burning cheeks. “But fuck me am I tired of this shit too. They’re no better than the men you worked for. They’re all in bed together. There are no “good guys” and “bad guys”. There’s no fucking justice there’s just…”

This time she distracts him by kissing his palm. “I know Javi. I wanted to tell you when we were younger but you believed in it so much. I didn’t have the heart to-“

“I wouldn’t have listened.” He shrugs and watches her eyes pour our decades of apologies.

A long but not heavy moment of silence passes. Decades of memories whirling around, potential possibilities for the future playing out as his hands held her heart-shaped face and studied her. Both older, crinkles in the corner of their eyes and sun spots mixed with the freckles, their faces showed their age but their eyes were 18 again.

“I’m sorry.” She breaks the silence. “For everything.”

“So am I.” Is the best response he can muster.

“Instead of you asking me to stay… I’m asking you to go now. Ironic.” She smiles.

“Timing was never our strong suit.”

“No.” She shakes her head and softly laughs. “We didn’t talk much. Not with our words anyway.” The smiles shifted into a smirk.

“Never had to back then did we?”

“You only had to smile with that baby face and as soon as I’d see that dimple it was over.” She shakes her head in agreement. A rush of new emotions comes over. The happy memories. It was so easy to let the negative eat away at them and replace them. “You’re so much more handsome than I ever thought you could be.” She admits with a fully formed laugh. “Better looking than that scrawny young man I left.” She loves her hands to feel his shoulders and watch the grin spread on his face.

“You’re sweet-talking me now.”

“Well, I have to get you to run away with me. Thought I’d try flattery.”

“All you had to do this whole time baby was show up.” The grin he wore wasn't an exact match to the sentiment but she felt it like a knife. The mood shifts, they both feel it. A weight, but it was comforting. “There’s never been another woman that could even begin to replace what you meant… mean to me. This whole time it’s been you missing. The way only you’ve been able to make me feel and that... that damned beautiful face that makes me want to do anything it asks. It’s not fair on an old man sweetheart.”

“Run away with me. Fuck that job. We’ve taken a lifetime to figure out what we needed. Come with me, Javi. We’ll have that quiet little boring life. Like it should’ve been.”

“How can I say no?”

“I’m hoping you can’t.” She gives him the sweetest smile she can.

“You mean it don't you?”

“You seem surprised.”

“After all this time?” His eyes squint showing his disbelief.

“You are as handsome as you are clueless.” She laughs and reaches up to kiss him again. “I never wanted to leave. I never stopped trying to fill my guilt and regret with money and danger and drugs. Just feeling your hands on me like this right now feels better than anything else ever has. I can’t beat how you make me feel.”

He takes his cue, hands moving to pull her closer. “I can make it feel better, sweetheart.” A lower voice, one that was deep, sends a tremble down her spine. He didn’t sound like that when he was younger.

“You always did like to talk a big talk.”

“And I can walk it now. I’m not a kid anymore Esme. I’m a man.” A stern brow appears and she feels her insides melt. “If you think it was good then... well it was…” he gives that grin that wins women over time after time. “You’re gonna love what I can do now.” With broad shoulders and a strong jaw, he loomed over her, making her feel small in a way she didn’t want to fight against..

“Then stop talkin’ and show me, Javi.” She whispers, a seductive smile on her face. “Show me what I’ve been missing.”

“I can do that… but you’ll never wanna leave again.” He smirks before closing in.

“Make sure I don’t.” She softens for a moment, her hand carding through the almost curls at the nape of his neck. She lets the tension grow, the flirtatious closeness, an intimate sharing of smiles and breath isn’t taken for granted. Something hotter grows in the heat between their bodies, and as she had in the past, she gives him a direct signal to move forward. “We’ve waited long enough, Javi, stop sweet talkin’ and make love to me already.”

Her laugh is broken off by a commanding press against her mouth and his two strong hands moving into her hairline. She feels his smirk fade against her lips, each pass growing more and more urgent. With confident hands, he reaches down to grab her ass, one staying to her jaw. These weren’t the clumsy but enthusiastic hands she recalled. There weren’t short sweet kisses, unsure glances shared as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried not the cum so soon from inexperience. He handled her like a man, and she felt more like a woman than she had in years in his strong grip.

He didn't let up as he moved them to his bedroom his mouth stayed to hers, taking each breath and devouring it, savoring it with a tease of tongue before deepening again. She bit his bottom lip after a light slap to her ass to get her moving in the right direction. He spreads his fingers, handling as much of her body as he could, a hard controlled wobble of her ass cheek, another slap of ownership, not enough to hurt her, but enough to show her how he thought of her as his. Once he had her at the foot of his bed, as much as he wanted to take his time, he also wanted to ravage her and intimately know every inch of her he’d been away from. She kicks off her shoes, lost to the darkness of the room before he hitches her leg up, hand traveling back and forth on her thigh, exposed from the wrapped slit in her dress. His mouth follows where his mind wanders, to her neck to hear her sighs and hums. His hand snakes up the nape of her neck into the thick black hair, a tight fist to gently control her head, holding it back so he could explore the sensitive bend.

A moan from her elicits a response, “You like it like this?” spoken quietly in her ear as he gives her head the slightest yank back.

“Aye.” she sighs, her eyes fluttering back. “I love it.” she whispers, a smile on her face and her long lashes shadowing over her cheeks from her blissed expression.

He makes quick work of making her shudder from the pressure of his lips and tongue on her racing pulse. She let herself enjoy it, not another thought in her head except how it felt with him touching her. It was an abandonment she hadn’t been afforded in decades and the act of letting go had never felt so good before.

His kisses trail her neck, shoulder, making tender work of her scar as he slips her arms out of the sleeves. His hand was fast to her back and one to her naked chest makes him press his forehead to the wound he directly caused. “Fuck me, you’re even more beautiful now aren’t you?” his hand kneads her breast and his mouth moves lower over her exposed top half, the cinch at her waist the only thing keeping them apart now. “I wondered what you’d look… feel like now.” his words a quiet but the low rumble in it, pouring that masculine energy he gave off in waves made her melt in his hands. His hands move to cup her chest, an eager mouth, and open kisses before latching onto her hard nipples and triggering a moan he mirrors enthusiastically. “Now I get this… grown fuckin’ woman, don’t I? Fuck, look at you baby.” She wasn’t the skinny little thing he’d held before. She’d filled out, the years kind to her body from the athleticism they’d demanded. She was strong but soft in all the places he wanted her to be. Perky little tits and a tight ass were now something substantial. Something he could sink his teeth into and he wanted to touch every inch of it.

“Let me see you,” she asks quietly, pulling out of his embrace, dropping her dress to leave her bare. Her hands unbuttoned his shirt, tugging it out of those jeans that fit him just right. “I almost want to keep the jeans on you look so good in them.” she grins and reaches back to grab his ass and he jumps before they entwine again. A soft laugh and an old lover's embrace float them down to the bed together. Mouths and hands explored as she straddled him and felt the breadth of his shoulders and the lean muscle in his arms from work.

He laid back, hands moving over her naked body, taking her in with an open mouth in awe. Her arms knocked her tits together as he played and pinched, making her grind and giggle. With a slow drag of her hands down his chest, the soft fuzz covered his pecks, grew smaller, and flowered out again as her fingers followed the trail, her hands moving to unfasten his belt. “As handsome as you are… I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t most excited about this.” she leans forward and coos as her hand reached into his undone jeans, finding no underwear and considering teasing him for it. Then she remembered she had come to him not wearing any either. She supposes they were both whores and deserved each other. With a breathy indulgent laugh, she leaned forward, hearing him swear as she began kissing him again.

“I thought you loved me for my mind, sweetheart.” They both share a laugh and she bites his bottom lip.

“I love you for a lot of reasons, Javi. This cock has always been one of them.” The thick hair around his base was as soft as she recalled, maybe softer. But he certainly wasn’t. She kisses him through a groan, freeing him and feeling him fully harden in her hand. “Don’t know how you keep this thing in those tight little jeans.” she kisses down to his neck and he smirks, hand in her hair and the other still teasing her nipple.

“Same way I’m gonna fit it in your tight little pussy, baby doll.”

He hadn’t lost that smoothness, a perfected skill that made her bite his throat for making her throb and feel herself get wet and warm between her legs. “Suave.” she coos into his ear before licking the rim of it. “Now show me.” she demands sitting up and rubbing herself against his pulsing cock.

He moves quickly, his body trained and hers willing to submit to him. He sits up to grab her and push her to her back, hair splaying out, her breasts bouncing before heaving from the sudden excitement. There’s a girlish giggle he’d heard before as she watches him, her fingers disappearing between her pussy lips as he made quick work of his jeans and made his way back between her legs. “You’re still impatient.” he grins against her inner thigh, his hand tracing her slit, a bite to her inner knee that turns into a lippy kiss.

“For you.” she lets her arms fall back, biting her lip and watching him with interest.

His fingers find her swollen clit, both his cock and her sensitive bud jump at the touch. “And you still get so wet for me, Esme.” a trail of kissing to her inner thighs, moving lower towards her center makes her shiver. She didn’t have a response with the circling of her clit, the way he spread her knees apart before dipping down to suck the pulsing spot into his mouth.

“Fuck.” she exhales quickly. A compliment if he’d ever heard one. He did know what he was doing. His broad fingers teased her opening, waiting for that tension, that suction that meant not just her mind but her body was ready.

He hadn’t anticipated being the one not ready for the loud moan that left her thrown back head when he filled her with his fingers. One to test, another soon after added, and the trio to finish it was the curl of them inside her as he made her spasming clit even more sensitive with the suction of his mouth and the attention from his tongue.

“Fuck, Javi, don’t make me cum yet.” It was a plea and a chuckle at the same time.

“You think you’re only cumming once tonight?”

“I want the first time you make me cum to be on your cock.”

He hums deeply, “I can’t deny that, now can I?” a kiss to right above her lips before he eases the pace of his fingers and removes them. “C’mere baby.” he leans into her, hard against her slick folds, dragging his hips back and forth, a strong hand on her hip and his mouth firmly attached to hers again.

Her impatience shows, a brief indulgence of the feel of him, velvety against her before she reaches between them and angles him in. Her legs stay back, he's holding himself up on one hand before taking her hand, kissing her fingertips, and taking over himself. He teases her and it’s met to a whine, a pressure against her hole that was aching for him. “Javi, please.” her hips circle as a pout appears on her lips.

“That sounds too good for me to wanna stop, sweetheart.” he grins, knowing he was in control and being indulgent as fuck about it.

“You gonna make me beg?”

That cocky brow raises, rubbing his tip against her clit.

She raises her hips to meet him. “Fuck me, Javi. Don’t make me wait. I’ve waited too damn long already. Fill me up, I wanna cum so hard on that cock.”

He pushes into her to cut her words off, he loved dirty talk but he couldn’t take it tonight. He’d topple over far too fast, so best give her what she wanted. She was right after all, they’d waited too damn long for this. You couldn’t tell who was making what sound at first. Their limbs entwined, her legs around his hips, keeping him in and her nails into his back. He had his face buried into the side of hers, not willing to miss a sound, one hand on her lower back that was arched up off the bed and the other in her hair. He waited, feeling her tighten and then give to him. “That’s a good girl.” he exhales softly in her ear, feeling her whine as her legs fell farther apart for him.

It happens fast for her, something she wasn’t accustomed to. But no man had been him, and she didn’t recall the last time she felt like this, with every muscle aching and reaching for pleasure from someone. She’d never been able to give over, to trust enough to let some in like she did him. The fact that she was sober and feeling like this was something she didn’t even think was possible. She wasn’t usually so submissive, but while he was looking into her eyes, kissing her lips, temples, nose, and forehead while he moved inside her she didn’t want to be anything else but taken care of by him. His body pushed against her just right, her legs wide let him rub against her clit and the spots most effective inside her. “Javi.” it comes out so desperate and he moans into her mouth as she tries to kiss through her rapidly quickening breaths. “It’s so good.” it was rushed out and ended with a squeak of a sound as she first tightened around him, he knew what that meant. “Just like...like that.” water wells in her eyes, feeling it build from the depth of her stomach, a wave builds up into her chest.

He pushed her hair out of her face, looked her over watching the painful pleasure fall over her flushed cheeks, her lips swollen from his kisses, sweat dampening her hairline and he concluded she’d never looked more beautiful than she did like this. “Fuck you feel even better,” he says against her temple, leaving a comforting kiss while she slowly let herself go. “I feel it Esme, let go for me, lemme feel you baby.”

Her fingers turn to claws in his hair and sink into the thick of it and the skin of his back as she gasps his name like a warning. He puts his nose to hers, nuzzling and reassuring and watching her burst into full bloom. There was no high-pitched showiness like ages ago. She knew what she wanted, asked for it, and got it. She knew her body and what felt good and how to make it work.

He got to watch her body move in waves, a subdued but not quiet cycle of moans and swears, her thighs trembling around him, feeling her squeeze and drip and make the deep muscles in his stomach jerk at the white burst inducing pleasure behind his eyelids. Javi loved sex, for so many reasons. But to have sex with someone he loved? It was quickly making the other experiences fade into the background to be forgotten and replaced by every second he spent inside Esme. The sound of her moaning his name like she desperately needed him fogged his mind, her sounds, the whimpers from deep breaths stayed steady and after a shared moment of the most intimate thing someone could share with their bodies, she forced his mouth back to hers, even hungrier than before.

Riding high, feeling her insides soaked and sensitive and each stroke still forcing a moan from her, she holds him close, a bit less submissive now with a clearer head. The kissing grows more heated, nails raking and teeth sinking into skin deeper. “I wanna ride you.” is all she states, and he obeys, pulling her up and situating her, a deep moan as she sinks back down on him, a string of expletives as she finds her footing. “Fuck you’re so deep like this.” her face is more playful, biting her lip and smiling down at him. She lets her hands explore his chest, moving to his neck before he takes her wrist to kiss her palm, his palm on her bouncing chest. He groans, her thumb slipping into his mouth as he gives her a bite and lick, “You’re too god damn handsome.” she grins and shudders from a growing wave. A slap, barely enough to call it that makes him grin as it hits his cheek. He pushes the thumb of his hand he had held hers with into her mouth. She greedily sucks at it, feeling his hips jerk beneath her. He moves it between her legs, targeting her clit and her hips stutter. He’d make her cum again soon and she was almost embarrassed at how easy it was for him to make her. Only she could roll them out like this, but he certainly was right about knowing how to handle a woman.

“You're already close again.” his upper lip almost snarled back as he said it, his prowess he prided himself in but knowing he was making her in particular feel good was cutting off his usual time quickly.

“Fuck you, Javi.” he laughs and slaps her hips, grabbing them and making her move faster.

“Go ahead and run that mouth. See how long you can keep it up while I’m making you cum.”

She gave in with a flutter of eyelids and a whimper as he braced his feet and pounded up into her. “Oh shit.” she cried, a hand on his chest to balance herself, the other absentmindedly on her breast, twisting at her nipple. The higher-pitched moans made their appearance, her mouth open, panting and paced with the slaps of his balls against her ass.

He holds her hip, making her move and she watches him pop his thumb into his mouth before zeroing right back in on her clit again. He feels her tighten back up again, her thighs starting to shake as she tries to push back in time onto him, taking him deeper, feeling him slide into the deepest spaces of her, filling her up, and feeling him up into her belly.

“It feels so fuckin’ good, don’t stop. Cum for me.”

He switches modes, she sees his brow lower, his nostrils flare, a sharp slap to her ass before gritting out “Then fuckin’ ride me, baby girl.”

Planting her hands on his chest, he braces her wrist, other thumb still pushing her over the edge with the way he was pounding into her. She bounces on him, watching his eyes shut from time to time, holding back as she drenched his cock and balls, the wet slap of skin loud in the otherwise quiet room. She moves her hips up and down, in circles, grinding down when he hits her just right, the sheen of sweat is now obvious on both their skin. They were both breathing hard, exertion and excitement weighing heavily on them as they tried to sync up.

“Fuck that’s it,” he grunts, head raising slightly to watch himself disappear in and out of her. “C’mon and give me that pussy. I feel it Esme, fuck, don’t make me wait for it.”

He had never been able to dirty talk when he was younger, perhaps that was why it had such a strong effect on her. Because she did exactly what he asked, and came hard on him again. It was borderline violent, a combination of inner and outer taking over her whole body as their angry expressions matched up, groaning out his name through her clenched jaw, keeping eye contact and making him watch, seeing the mess drip from her as she rose and fell on his cock.

“That its…” is all he gets out, no masculine power tripped words as he came shortly after she did. His hips thrust hard to each pulse of cum that he filled her with. A deep grunt followed each thrust, his brow low as he quickly moved up, sweeping her to him, splayed together still inside her as he kissed her. They came down together, breathing soon normal, mouths still intertwined and hands still exploring curiously. As he moves to kiss her neck, both hands warm on her back she sighs loudly.

“I missed you, Javi.” she whispers, soft from the exertion and orgasms and the way he warmed every part of her he touched. “So much.”

“I’m here now,” he answers with a flick of his nose to hers, scooping her up and rolling them to their sides. He gives her a soft kiss before pulling away, standing, and yanking the covers down. He gives a pat to her bare ass, a signal to move as he then covers her up. As predictable as he could be, he makes his way to the pack of cigarettes in the other room and she gets to warm up and watch his cute ass walk away. “You want one?” he asks, looking down the lit cherry at her, now getting under the comforter with her.

Instead, she reaches over him, grabs one from the pack, and lights it off his, still in his mouth.

“First time you did that I almost came in my jeans.” he grins, taking a drag. “Always thought it was one of the sexiest things you’d ever done.”

“I wanted to show off. Good to know it worked.” she smiles.

There’s silence for a moment as they bask in the quiet of the room, she angled against him and his arm over her shoulders. “Are you gonna stay?” his eyes swing her way, pushing back a wild curl in her face.

“Here tonight or… in general.”

“Both.” he shrugs casually.

“You want me to stay tonight?” an eyebrow raised at him, squinting as she smoked.

“First time for everything.” she’d never watched a girl stay after he called her up. She’d wondered how this would go down but she was continually pleasantly surprised. "No, I don't want you to leave." he states it as obviously as he felt it was.

“What happens when someone sees me leave tomorrow?”

“Who says I’m not leaving with you?” he gives a nod her way. “You said you wanted to leave, right?”

“Yeah.” she answers softly.

“I don’t say things I don’t mean, sweetheart.” his voice demanded respect she already had for him, but after the sex, she was happy to know he hadn’t changed his mind.

“I’ve got enough money. I just have to go back and get it. I’ve got visas and passports for both of us.”

“You work fast.”

“I had to.” she smiles, scooting in closer. “Couldn’t risk wasting time.” her voice is softer, she put her head on his chest. “Do you want to quit your job? Or do you just want to...dissppear?”

“No.” he takes a drag. “I’ll quit first. I don't want them trying to find me. Or you.” his arm swings in and rubs hers to comfort her. “I want to tell them to go fuck themselves anyway.” he grins, amused by the thought. “I can empty my account, well what little’s in it. Packing isn’t exactly a worry for me. Long as I’ve got you with me.”

“You’re a real Cassanova.” she kisses his chest and smiles into the warm fuzz.

“I mean it.”

“I know.” she nods and wraps her arm around him, letting the cigarette land in the ashtray by the bed. “It doesn’t feel real yet, is all.”

He nods, letting his cigarette join yours in the ceramic dust-filled pile. “I’m afraid I’ll wake up and I’ve been dreaming. Or in a coma from being shot.”

“No, it’s real.” she sighs and runs her hand over his healing side. “I’ve fantasized about running, and being with you has been such a pipe dream I can hardly believe you…”

“What?”

“Love me still.”

“Never stopped. I couldn’t. You said you loved me, why’s it so hard to believe I love you too?”

“Because no one has since you.” the answer hurt his chest, he kisses her hair and pulls her into a firm embrace. “I didn’t think I deserved it.”

“Shhh.” he strokes her hair back and keeps his lips to her bare skin. “We're gonna get out, Esme. We’re going to leave this shit behind. Because we have to. We aren’t made for this like we thought. We aren’t like them.”

So that’s how he’d slept at night. Truthfully she’d entertained the denial on occasion too. He was a good man who did bad things. She thought of herself as a bad woman, but if the one person whose opinion she valued didn’t think so, she’d have to change her thinking on the matter. Maybe he was right. They just weren’t cut out for this, and instead of shame for failure, she felt relief for the first time in a long time. “Where do you want to go?” her voice sounded weaker, sleepier now.

“Far away.”

“How are you with cold?”

“What does that mean?” he huffs out a soft laugh.

“I thought someone cold might be nice. Somewhere in Europe. It’s beautiful there. A nice secluded cabin...maybe some dogs.”

“That the European version of a house and picket fence and two kids?” he chuckles. “It’s not what I originally wanted but…” he sighs, “It doesn’t sound bad.”

“What did you want?” she sounded different, he tilts her face up so he can see her eyes.

“What I said I did, sweetheart. You, a home in San Antonio, figured we’d have a couple of hell raisers. Get old and fat together. Spoil the grandkids.”

Her eyes flutter for a millisecond. “You really wanted that?”

“Why are you so surprised?”

“I didn’t know that’s really how you felt. Thought you were just falling in line with what was expected of you back then.”

“I was always sure about wanting you forever.”

“Kids?”

The way she said it answered his question, that’s where the surprise was. “Yeah. You’d keep a kid walking a straight line.” he grins. “Put the fear of God in them.” a laugh builds and he kisses her softly. “Maybe I’m getting soft in my old age. A man gets to a certain age and he starts thinking about these things.”

“I don’t know if I can… have kids at my age.”

“You act like you’re 50 hun.” he dismisses her worry without his tone being condescending. “I’m not asking you for kids, Esme. I’m answering your question. I wanted all of you. The good and bad. Even then.” he touches her chin sweetly. “As long I’ve got you I’ll be a happy man. We have so much time to make up for. Don’t worry that beautiful head about it. We haven’t even gotten out the door yet.” he gives her a lingering, comforting kiss.

“I’m sorry for leaving you.”

“I know you are, baby.” he whispers back.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” her eyes were honest, a sincerity he’d not seen from anyone in years.

“Then that’s our plan. Plain and simple.” he seals his promise with a kiss.

“We’ll figure out the rest in the morning?” her eyes looked hopeful again, face nuzzling into his hand that stroked her cheek.

“We’ll figure out the rest together in the morning.”

In the morning they figured it out. It went just as they planned. Plain and simple. Together.

@jaegeeeeer @likedovesinthewnd @inkededucatednnerdy @biharryjames @ladamari68 @past-romantic @weliketomoveit @shikin83

#Javier Pena Fanfic #javier pena fic #javier pena fan fic #narcos fanfic #javier pena x reader

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davidcampiti · 3 years ago

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A SCREENPLAY IS NOT A COMIC BOOK SCRIPT

I'm frustrated by writers who hire a comicbook artist then send a screenplay as their script. My first question to them is, "Are you hiring one of our writers to adapt this into a comic book script?" Usually they'll respond, "No that's the script to work from."

But it's not.

Word balloons aren't broken out or numbered, SFX aren't identified, the pacing is wrong, and most panel descriptions are missing, causing the artist and the editor to do twice as much work without a corresponding increase in pay.

Here's a good article from Nick Macari about the differences --

I think you’d be hard pressed to find some work of fiction, some type of writing, that you could NOT turn into a comic. That is to say, you could create a comic from notes on bar napkins, a published novel, heck I bet you could even create a comic using nothing but a movie as the source material.

If you’re making a comic yourself, like literally by yourself, it doesn’t really matter how you do it… only the final product matters. If you have some crazy process that gets you a beautiful finished product, good on ya mate.

But for those writing spec scripts, trying to write for others, or trying to entice others to their project, it pays to create scripts that open doors instead of closing them.

In 2020, there are a million writers writing screenplays and pawning them off as comic scripts.

If you want to be one of those guys… as you were.

But if you actually want to write comics, if you want to be a comic book writer, you should learn how to write an actual comic book script, not how to sell some other script as one.

There are lot of useful technique comics can borrow from screenplays.

For the innocent novice writer, it’s understandable to see some technical execution confusion. But for working and professional writers, knowing what transfers over and what doesn’t separates the riff from the raff.

Before we get into it, let’s put to bed, once and for all, why a straight screenplay script is not a comic script. Here’s why;

Director Production Designer Art Director Costume Designer Cinematographer … Camera Assistant Director of Photography Scenic Artist Set Decorator Storyboard artist … Makeup artist Wardrobe stylist Assistant Director Production Assistant Production Coordinator Production Designer … Script Supervisor Sound Mixer Special Effects Coordinator

oh yeah, and actors.

These are a few of the people involved in a film.

Individual roles dedicated to a specific area of production. In essence, a screenplay can deliver fairly minimal information and it’s someone’s specific job to interpret that information, its context, and otherwise apply their knowledge, experience and skill, to turn that information into some tangible, successful element.

If you think it’s the artist’s job to fill all these roles, you’re crazy… and mean to artists.

Ok, you still here?

Good.

Let’s showcase some specific examples of why a screenplay doesn’t hold up for comics;

THE FRENCH CONNECTION

Drug Dealer I don’t…

Doyle Ever pick your feet in Poughkeepsie?

Drug Dealer What?

Doyle Did you ever pick your feet in Poughkeepsie?

Drug Dealer I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.

Doyle Were you ever in Poughkeepsie?

Drug Dealer No… yeah…

Doyle Did you ever sit on the edge of a bed, take off your socks and stick your fingers between your toes?

Drug Dealer Man, I’m clean.

Doyle You made three sales to your roaches back there. We had to chase you though all this shit and you tell me you’re clean?

Russo Who stuck up the laundromat?

Doyle How about that time you were picking your feet in Pougheepsie?

The drug dealers’ eyes go to Russo in panic, looking for the relief from the pressure of the inquisition.

Russo (in pain) You better give me the guy who got the old Jew or you better give me something or you’re just a memory in this town.

Drug Dealer That’s a lot o’ shit. I didn’t do nothin’.

14 dialogue exchanges, with for all intents and purposes not a single visual description (one minor one toward the end about the dealer’s eyes.). This is likely at least one page of comic with this volume of exchanges and dialogue, and there is literally, nothing cuing the artist as to how this should go down.

THE FRENCH CONNECTION

Mutchie

That’s right, he couldn’t fight legit. One night at the Garden about 1950, ’51—he fought either Jake LaMotta or Gus Lesnevish, I think it was—he took one o’those cream puff punches in the sixth—the laziest left you ever seen—missed him entirely. Down goes Blackjack without even workin’ up a sweat and the whole Garden gets up on its feet and I swear to Christ, everybody starts singin’ “Dance with Me Henry.”

75 words. Way too much for a single panel.

How many ways can you break the dialogue into how many panels?

Is one way to break it up more effective than the others?

Because if it is, and that’s NOT the method you write up, you’re producing a less effective script.

But ultimately, what works in film as a 30 second monologue (doesn’t work in comics), would be far more effective as caption narration over flashback action.

THE EXORCIST

EXTERIOR – IRAQ- NINEVEH- DAY

The old man arrives back at that dig site in a small jeep. As he pulls up two armed guards rush out. When they see who it is the old man gives them a wave and they slowly walk back to there quarters. The old man walks up the rocky mound and sees a huge statue of the demon Pazuzu, which has the head of the small rock he earlier found. He climbs to a higher point to get a closer look. When he reaches the highest point he looks at the statue dead on. He then turns his head as we hear rocks falling and sees a guard standing behind him. He then turns again when he hears two dogs savagely attacking each other. The noise is something of an evil nature. He looks again at the statue and we are then presented with a classic stand off side view of the old man and the statue as the noises rage on. We then fade to the sun slowly setting as the noises lower in volume.

Hey! this has some nice direction, this screenplay stuff is perfect for a comic.

NO.

Let’s break it down;

This passage is 15 beats, give or take. One beat a panel, 3-5 panels per page, we’ve got 3-5 pages of comic in this passage alone.

Hang on we’re not done.

If you fill your page with this type of description (you shouldn’t, but let’s say you did), you could get almost double that amount of beats. So one page of screenplay delivering nearly 6-10 pages of comic content!

Tell me, when was the last time someone delivering a screenplay “comic script,” delivered a 2 page script for a complete issue? Never says I.

BONUS on this example:

Did y’all notice the soundtrack emphasis in this excerpt from the Exorcist script? Of course you can have sound effects in a comic, but no matter how you crack it, comics DO NOT have soundtracks. Relying on film soundtracks in a comic script is a sure fire way to deliver less effective scripts.

BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA

JACK Alright, where’s my truck, Wang? I’m outta here. And my money, too.

WANG Forget about your truck, Jack. You don’t wanna go back there. You’ll have to go through the Wing Kong to get it. It’s insured, right?

JACK Of course it is. But that’s not the point.

WANG The smart man comes back for it later…

JACK The smart man calls the cops!

WANG Cops have better things to do than get killed.

We showed the typical lack of visual description a screenplay gives in the first example. [Screenplays tend to focus on the scene setup, then briefly hit key actions of the scene.] Here we have another example of missing visual description, but I point it out for something more specific–LACK OF EMOTIONAL context.

As I point out in the Writer’s Guide, Emotional content is one of the essential elements of each and every comic panel. So not only do we not have visual cues to support the action in the screenplay, but how are the characters delivering these lines!?

JACK Alright, where’s my truck, Wang? I’m outta here. And my money, too.

How many ways can you say this line?

I can say it pissed. Irritated. Fearful. Sarcastically. Comically. Those are just a few that pop in my head… and I’m no actor.

Leaving emotional context open to interpretation undermines narrative control–in a big way.

A good, effective scene, could die a horrible misinterpreted death.

For the record, you can use parentheticals in a screenplay. This can give emotional context, like the one from Jack’s first line I omitted to make the example more effective

JACK (pissed off)

But where parentheticals do contain emotional context, you use them in a script sparingly. Just like you don’t tell the director how to do his job filling your screenplay with camera direction, you don’t try to tell the actors how to do theirs. (Remember, the answer to why Screenplays aren’t Comic Scripts, there’s a lot of people, hopefully professionals, bringing their expertise to the table.)

CASABLANCA

Ilsa Your secret will be safe with me. Ferrari is waiting for our answer.

At the bar Ferrari talks to a waiter.

Ferrari Not more than fifty francs though.

Ilsa and Laszlo walk up to him.

Laszlo We’ve decided, Signor Ferrari. For the president we’ll go on looking for two exit visas. Thank you very much.

Ferrari Well, good luck. But be careful. ( a flick of his eyes in the direction of the bazaar) You know you’re being shadowed.

Laszlo glances in the direction of the bazaar.

Screenplays live in movement. Unless you’ve got a static insert of a letter or photo or something, everything is in motion and there is constant change (even if subtle) from micro-second, to micro-second.

While comics work to capture movement (and there are some tricks), it is ultimately a static medium, locked into showcasing moments frozen in time.

What I explain in the “works in movies not in comics article” is that the constant movement and motion, supported (primarily) by actors, but by the lighting people, the art direction people, director, etc. all gives depth and purpose to every single second of a film.

With all these people doing their job, a screenplay can give super general stage direction, like what we see here in this Casablanca excerpt.

At the bar Ferrari talks to a waiter.

Ilsa and Laszlo walk up to him.

Laszlo glances in the direction of the bazaar.

These trivial actions carry no narrative. They work in film because of performance and motion, which steps in to create narrative.Without performance and motion, a single frame captured from core stage direction translates to ineffective comic panels.

By the way, all the examples I’m giving here, are from solid movies. The big pink elephant in the room when writers deliver “comic screenplay scripts,” is that they assume they know how to write a good screenplay in the first place. Trust me, novice writers rarely do.

There’s a lot of technique and skill in writing a solid screenplay. And if you think a good screenplay causes problems converting to a comic, wait till you try it from a shitty screenplay.

Still thinkin’ screenplay is synonymous with comic script? Well you’re wrong sunshine, but what do I know?

I’m just a non-famous full-time mercenary writer, writing almost exclusively in comics and games for a decade or so. :p

I’ve spent a few hours writing this article, but there are plenty of other examples I haven’t touched on.

I’ll come back and add some more as I think of them in my down time. Maybe eventually when the list is so long it takes you a couple hours to read this article, y’all get it through your noggins that comics are there own medium which demand the attention and respect of a unique format and writing approach. Something the comic book writers reading this, already know. #justsayin

About the Author — Nick Macari is a full-time freelance story consultant, developmental editor and writer, working primarily in the independent gaming and comic markets. His first published comic appeared on shelves via Diamond in the late 90’s. Today you can find his comic work on comixology, amazon and in select stores around the U.S. Visit NickMacari.com for social media contacts and news on his latest releases.

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set-phasers-to-whump · 4 years ago

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imprisonment

prompt: imprisonment

whumpee: kurt wallander

fandom: young wallander

surprise!!! i was gonna write this fic with a different premise and a different fandom but i wasn’t feeling it and then inspiration struck lmao. hi to my friends that like yw and i hope you enjoy!!!

Kurt technically should not have been there, for a multitude of reasons. He was there for his latest investigation, without his supervisors’ permission. Or even their knowledge. He’d also promised Reza earlier in the day that he wasn’t going to do anything stupid. And he was supposed to be going out with Mona later that night. So he really shouldn’t have been doing this.

But he’d had a feeling, back when this place had first come across their radar. A run-down (though still operational) meat packing facility, way on the outskirts of the city, owned by a known associate of their main suspect. It was the perfect place for him to conduct his rather disturbing business of killing people and freezing them until he had evidently decided what he was to do with them. (In the case of his first murder, it’d been dropping the body from the roof of an apartment building, and in the case of the second, setting the body up in a bus stop, as though it were a live person waiting to get to work. In other words, this shit was creepy as all hell (the general consensus of Kurt and his colleagues)).

He stepped through the main door, wincing as it squeaked. He really hoped that no one was there to hear it. He moved further into the building, shining a flashlight in sweeping arcs across the unmoving conveyor belts and various deadly-looking pieces of machinery. He was looking for...something. He felt that he would know it when he saw it. He continued through the room until he came to a closed metal door with a frosted-over window that was cool to the touch.

This was it, he was sure. Something. He paused for a moment with his hand on the handle, wondering whether he should call someone and let them know what he thought he’d found. Then again, he was here on a hunch only. If he turned out to be wrong, he’d be in serious trouble. Better to wait and see…

He opened the door, which made a rather ominous creaking noise. A pass of his flashlight through the small room confirmed that his hunch had been correct: lying in the far corner of the freezer were two lumps, human-sized and covered in blankets. Kurt grimaced. Honestly, he’d rather have been wrong.

But he’d been right, and now it was his responsibility to get people in here to deal with this. He pulled out his phone, adjusting his grip on the flashlight, and stopped. The light had illuminated something in the other corner: a large box, with what appeared to be a bloodstain on the bottom.

Something in him told him not to go see what was in that box, but something else insisted that he go have a look, so Kurt stepped into the freezer, pulling his jacket tighter around him. Just being inside, with less than a meter between himself and the door, was enough to make him shiver. He walked over to the box and shined his flashlight inside, thoroughly prepared to flinch back in disgust.

But instead of something horrible, like body parts, there was...a case of beef. Kurt shrugged to himself. This was still a meat-packing facility, he supposed, turning away from the box and towards the blanketed lumps opposite him. He now doubted whether they were really dead people at all, or simply more meat arranged into vaguely human shapes. He had to check that out before he called anyone.

Kurt crossed the small room, shining his light on the lumps. There was no blood on the blankets, which he hoped was a good thing.

He reached down hesitantly, drawing one blanket away from whatever it was protecting.

Which was a dead guy. Pale as...well, death, his unseeing eyes covered in frost. Kurt let the edge of the blanket fall from his hands, stumbling backwards away from the body, nearly tripping over his own feet. He really wished he’d been wrong about this…

Shaking hands reached for his phone, and he quickly dialed Rask’s number. She’d be pissed, no doubt, but once she got over it...well, they had two more murders and a hell of a lot more evidence on their hands.

No service. Kurt sighed, his breath fogging up in the air in front of him, and headed back towards the door, which had at some point closed behind him. He grabbed the handle, wincing at the feeling of the freezing metal on his bare hand, and turned it, already redialing Rask.

It didn’t move. The door didn’t move. It was locked.

Kurt pulled at the handle harder. Nothing. He tried to push the door open instead. Nothing. He kicked it. Nothing. He was trapped.

This can’t be happening, he thought. But it was. He was trapped in a freezer in a meat-packing facility that served as some kind of hide-out for a killer, with two dead bodies and no service and absolutely no one that knew where he was.

I’m going to die in here, was his next thought. I’m going to freeze to death. Or else I’m not going to die and the killer is going to come here to get his bodies and find me too, and then I’ll die.

He retried every single communication app on his phone, to no avail. The walls of his prison were too thick to let any kind of signal reach. He looked around for something he could use to break the door down, also to no avail, unless he wanted to try and use one of the dead people as a battering ram. He searched for any kind of interior controls that might warm the air or let him out. Surely other people had gotten stuck in here before. But there was nothing. He supposed those other people had gotten stuck during working hours, with their colleagues around because they hadn’t gone off on their own…

So that was that. There was no way out.

And little point in telling himself not to panic.

He sunk down to the floor, taking no notice of its coldness seeping into his pants. He wrapped his arms around his body as tightly as he could, trying to keep himself somewhat warm. And then he panicked. His whole body shook with it, and with the cold, and the tears that fell down his face felt like they froze before they reached his chin. He was going to die in this fucking freezer, and it was all his fault...

Eventually, slowly, the panic wore off. Kurt raised his head up from his arms, which were folded across his knees, still shaking hard, and got to work trying whatever he could. If he couldn’t get out of here, maybe he could at least prevent himself from freezing to death.

First up was the flashlight. He thought that there might have been some way to start a fire with its batteries, but as he looked around he realized that there wasn’t anything to light on fire. Everything else in the freezer was, well, frozen, and his own clothes were damp and also the only things that would definitely keep him warm. A fire might burn out. Similarly, there was no sense in trying to smash his phone to light it on fire. Besides the issue of there being no flammable material with him, Kurt was pretty sure that if he ever got out of here, he’d need to call someone to get him. That left...nothing. Unless the dead people had something on them.

Kurt sighed. He did not especially like the idea of rooting around in the dead peoples’ clothes in an attempt to keep himself alive. Then again, they were dead, and certainly not going to object.

He pushed himself up off of the floor, taking a moment to force his shaking legs to cooperate, then walked back over to the bodies. The one he’d uncovered previously was dressed in a nice coat, and had a stick of gum and two receipts in his pockets, all frozen. The other body ended up being a woman, with a lovely-looking fuzzy hat on her head and a gold bracelet and two credit cards in her pockets. Again, everything on her was frozen. Kurt tried the hat out anyway. It was too small, and in any case made the top of his head much colder than the air alone. He covered the bodies back up with their crunchy blankets, which were yet again frozen and like ice against his skin.

Kurt sank back to the ground in utter defeat. The dead people had been his last hope, and unless he wanted to wrap himself in freezing clothes, they had nothing to offer him, except for a rather twisted form of company.

He was going to die. Well and truly. That settled, he grabbed his phone from where he’d set it on the floor, intent on writing out some final messages for the people he cared about.

But his fingers were shaking too badly to even unlock his phone, let alone type on it. He let it slide back to the floor, then buried his face in his arms again and cried. He didn’t want to die here…

Minutes or hours or days passed. Kurt was too cold to get his phone and check the time. He was feeling less and less alert, and his body ached from the constant shivering, and he wished that he could fall asleep. But every time he closed his eyes, they would open back up again, like they were telling him not to give in. He wished they would stop trying. He was dying. No sense in thinking that anything was going to save him.

There was an ominous creaking noise in front of him. Kurt slowly raised his head, vision blurred from tears and cold, and saw that the door was open. He lunged for it, or rather tried to, but found himself quite incapable of moving. The door started to close, and he wanted to scream. It came out a quiet whimper.

And then there was something touching him, something warm. He forced his freezing eyes to focus as best as they could. It was a person! He leaned into the warmth, unaware and uncaring of whether or not it was the killer, back for his bodies.

Then, the warm thing went away, and then it returned, draping something onto him. He wondered what it was, and then he was moving, and something very warm was pressing up against the whole right side of his body, and he knew instinctively that he was safe now, that the person who had him was going to make sure he would be okay. He finally fell asleep.

He woke up slowly. The first thing that he became aware of was the fact that he wasn’t cold. He wasn’t especially warm, either, but his body wasn’t shaking and he could feel his fingers and toes. There was something slightly scratchy covering him, and something cold pressed against his arm. He opened his eyes.

The hospital. He was getting tired of the hospital. He looked around, smiling at the lack of blurriness to the world. And then his eyes landed on three chairs that had been pulled up next to his bed. Empty. He wondered who had been there, and where they had gone.

He didn’t need to wonder for long, though. A nurse came up to him, looking very pleased to see him awake, and told him that his friends had gone to get something to eat, and ought to be back fairly soon.

Half an hour later, Kurt had been sufficiently fussed over by Reza and Jasmine and Mona, all three of whom had been incredibly happy to see him. Jasmine and Mona had gone to get all of them some hot tea (Kurt had shivered, just once, but it had been enough to prompt them into action), and Reza was looking at him in that rare way that meant they were going to have a Conversation.

“Kurt-”

“I’m sorry.” Kurt interrupted Reza before he got the chance to speak. “I should have told someone where I was going. I thought-”

Now it was Reza’s turn to interrupt him. “Kurt, you almost died. Touching you was like touching a block of fucking ice.”

“You...you were there?”

“Who do you think found you? Mona called me worrying because you hadn’t shown up for your date, and she couldn’t reach you. Then I tried calling you. Then I tracked your phone and realized what stupid shit you were up to. I told Rask and she got some others, and we got there and I found you practically frozen solid.”

“Did you...see the bodies?”

“See the- yes, we saw the bodies.”

Kurt smiled. “Wasn’t for nothing,” he said, letting his eyes close.

“Idiot,” Reza said, but Kurt could hear the fondness in his voice. “I guess there’s no point in asking you to promise me that you’re not going to do anything stupid again. Just call me next time, before you go and do it, okay?

“I will. I promise.”

thanks so much for reading this!!!!!!!! i had so much fun writing it (i’ve always wanted to trap somebody in a freezer lmao). please tell me if you liked it and i will love you forever :)

#febuwhump2021 #febuwhumpday3 #imprisonment #young wallander #kurt wallander #hypothermia #cold #trapped #emotional whump #hospital #carried #etc etc lol #my writing #i say things #i titled this stupid on ao3 bc i am a nerd and i saw an opportunity w a poem i like and took it #i have spared yall here my awful titling skills in favor of something simple and to the point.#anyhow ily young wallander fandom!!

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cobertaddict · 3 years ago

Note

Hello,

I saw how in the tags in one of ur posts how you've been having a tough time. I hope things get better for you soon. I could tell you've been busy lately by the lack of posts. Just remember to take time for yourself and have a break every once in a while. I really appreciate you and ur blog. You're very sweet, kind, and funny & you deserve only the best.

Take care <3

Wow... I- I'm at a lost of words at this Anon. You've made me cry, but in the sweetest way possible. You have no idea what this means to me. And yes, it's been a bit tough, and it's mainly because of work. Sunday was just god awful. I had two angry customers, one in particular who cussed me out and threatened to punch me. Why? Because I told her her son could not go on the ride I was operating because he was 6 inches off the height requirement. I guess I'm a terrible person for valuing her son's safety, following state law mandate, & not puting the pumpkin patch at risk for liability 🙃. And to top it all off, I was working a double shift, basically I worked the whole day the pumpkin patch was open (a 12 hr shift). And I only had 45 mins. of rest time (an 30 min lunch break and a 15 min break). I was not very happy because I'm supposed to be granted 2 lunch breaks (30 mins. each). I can voluntarily waive the second lunch break if I choose to do so. But my supervisor decided to only give out 15 min breaks in the second half of the day. If I was working an 6 hr shift, I wouldn't mind, but considering I was working 12 hrs. that day, let's just say I was really looking forward to my second lunch break. And I did not volunteer to waive my second lunch break at all, so yeah, I was quite pissed off. And I just found out my lungs is sensitive to the exposure of dirt and dust in the air there, causing me to have a terrible cough. Let's just say, I now can't wait til Halloween which is the last day I'll be working here. Thank God this is only a seasonal job.

Sorry for the rant you didn't ask for, but gosh that felt good to get off my chest.

Thank you very very much for your message Anon, I truly appreciate the kind and considerate words! 💕 I appreciate ya so much and can't wait til work is over so I can catch up on here and read some of my fav fanfics :)

Love ya Anon, here's some cobert cuteness for ya!! 💕💕

#i really liked my job at first but now it's really taking a toll on me 😬#thank you Anon for looking out for me and taking the time to send this me 🥺#words can't describe how much i appreciate it 💕

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igirisuhito · 4 years ago

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Title: Your love is a fraction, and it’s not adding up Relationship: Kamukura Izuru/Matsuda Yasuke Rating: Mature Summary: Mundane tasks bore Kamukura Izuru. Incompetent children who don't know how to take care of themselves piss Matsuda Yasuke off, apparently. Trigger Warnings: Eating Disorders

[Ao3 Link]

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

"How many days has it been this time?!"

The door slammed against the wall with a bang, and there stood a slightly out of breath Matsuda with a deep scowl on his face. His eyebrows were so furrowed that you could barely see that icy blue glare beneath them. If Kamukura's guess was correct (and it always was) he had just come out of his weekly check in with the steering committee.

"Please specify what it is you're asking." Kamukura spoke, his soft tone contrasting heavily against the booming voice that left the other boy.

Removing his hand from the door, Matsuda crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his chin up to the ceiling, flicking his hair back out of his eyes in the process as he looked down at Kamukura. "Don't act stupid, you know exactly what I'm asking about you fucking greasy troglodyte."

"I don't think the person keeping me here has the right to call me a troglodyte." Kamukura's eyes flickered down to the manga in his hands. "However, if you're inquiring how many days it has been since I refreshed myself, the answer is five, rounded down."

"Five days?” Matsuda snorted, “You’re shitting me, no wonder Kobayashi was so bitter. You know it's me who has to touch your disgusting self, right?"

Kamukura brought his hand to his mouth and quickly licked his thumb before turning the page with a loud flick. "I'm aware."

“You dick.” Unfolding his arms, Matsuda took a few long strides that made his sandals snap against the vinyl floor before snatching the manga from Kamukura’s hands. “Stop licking my manga, you’re disgusting. And stop being such a spoiled brat, it’s an unbecoming trait in troglodytes.”

“Again, I believe it’s--”

The manga was slapped hard against the top of Kamukura’s head, how unfortunate that he was reading an extended edition of Ponpon, because that one actually hurt a little. “I don’t give a shit about what you believe . Go wash up before I take away one of your five senses.”

Kamukura sniffed the air, staring at Matsuda’s crumpled Hope’s Peak shirt. There was a toothpaste stain just below his sternum.

A loud scoff left the older boy. “What? Are you pretending to cry? I already know you’re incapable of that you emotion deficient sack of--”

“How long has it been since you bathed?”

Twack. The book hit Kamukura’s cranium once again. “This isn’t about me, Kobayashi was complaining about you.”

Ah, Kamukura had hit his mark, perfect. “Perhaps I should start complaining to the Steering Committee that my doctor is unprofessional and fetid. Surely they would be willing to give me another who has higher standards for personal hygiene and knows how to wash his shirts.”

“I know how to wash my fucking shirts. I’m so sorry that I don’t have a personal maid waiting on hand and foot to do my laundry every single day.” Matsuda hissed, glancing down at himself and tugging at the hem of his shirt.

“You’ve been wearing the same toothpaste-stained shirt for three days now.” A slow blink passed as Kamukura looked up to meet Matsuda’s eyes. “I’m willing to speculate that you haven’t bathed for longer than that.”

“Yeah? And so fucking what, Sherlock?”

“You know I don’t understand your references to Western media…” Kamukura mumbled. “But my point is that your accusations hold no weight, for I will not bathe for a hypocrite who cannot uphold his own standards of cleanliness.”

A hand reached out, securing a fistful of ebony hair and tugging harshly in a way that forced Kamukura's head to jolt forward. “Actually, yes you will, because I am your supervisor and you will listen to what I tell you to do.”

For a second, Kamukura said nothing, turning over the possibilities in his mind. With an impatient sigh, Matsuda allowed him a second to process and gather his thoughts. Matsuda Yasuke may be an asshole, but he was sympathetic to the poor kid who he gave capabilities much too big for his brain to handle.

Only a little, though.

Once finding his words, Kamukura gave Matsuda another slow blink, seemingly unbothered by the hand in his hair. “I do not have to obey your demands, however, I am willing to yield if you admit to the fact you are a hypocrite.”

“That’s not happening. Come on.” With a sharp tug, Kamukura was yanked up to his feet, no pain showing on his face but it definitely hurt more than he would have liked. “The safest place to take you would probably be the communal baths in the old building, because you are not setting foot in my dorm.”

Kamukura followed obediently as Matsuda began to drag him along. “This is likely due to the fact it is as dirty as you are, am I correct?”

"Shut your filthy mouth."

At some point during their walk to the old building, Matsuda had politely let go of Kamukura's hair, probably out of laziness and a fear of being questioned by any passer-bys. It was dark outside, judging by the angle of the shadows and the height of the moon, Kamukura was able to determine the sun had only set an hour ago. There were few students wandering the campus, those who did notice Matsuda didn't seem to acknowledge Kamukura. As they shouldn't, after all, he was very good at hiding his presence.

Matsuda's face had an unhealthily pale glow in the moonlight. It reminded Kamukura a little of his own sun-deficient complexion. Those cheeks seemed to have thinned out significantly since they had first met, something that caused an unfamiliar sensation to swirl in Kamukura's chest, a sensation that weighed heavy on his jaw and heart.

"Did you eat dinner? It's not healthy to skip meals."

A soft "Huh?" left Matsuda's lips as he turned to the boy to his left, glancing down at him. "That's a stupid question for a troglodyte to ask. Shouldn’t a troglodyte such as yourself be able to at least ask me something interesting?"

Kamukura pursed his lips together, before separating them with a soft pop. "Being a troglodyte is unrelated to the question."

"So you admit that you're a troglodyte then?"

"I admit that you need a better insult."

Matsuda tipped his head back as a loud snort of laughter escaped him. Kamukura merely clenched his teeth more tightly. "You avoided the question."

Huffing, Matsuda pushed open the door to the old building, stepping inside and propping it open with his foot whilst he waited for Kamukura to follow. “Like I said, it’s a stupid question, why would I bother answering it?”.

“When placed in situations that are stressful, some people resort to binge eating, whilst others tend to eat less frequently.” Stepping into the building, Kamukura glanced around at the familiar sight of the lightly coloured halls. “This is because one who is stressed may desire to distract themselves, or be so troubled by their worries they no longer notice the signals their body is sending to the brain.”

“I went to fucking med school, I know this. Who’s dodging the question now huh?” Shoving his hands into his pockets, Matsuda stepped around the small seating area and turned right down the hall, heading in the direction of the old dorms and cafeteria.

“I’m expressing that you may be one of those people, Matsuda. You have lost a significant amount of weight in the last month.”

Matsuda rounded a corner, his pace quickened slightly. “I’m on a diet. I could afford to lose some weight.”

“But you are within the healthy weight range for your age? Even if you are leaning slightly towards the ‘overweight’ category, there’s no need for dieting.”

“See, you just admitted it, I could stand to lose a few kilograms.”

A soft inhale could be heard from Kamukura. “Is this why you haven’t been eating the snacks I give you?”

Finally, Matsuda stopped and glanced back at the other boy. There still was no emotion painted on Kamukura’s ever stoic face. Beautiful and apathetic, like a porcelain doll to be perched upon one’s collection. The thought made Matsuda’s throat tighten in an unpleasant way he refused to acknowledge.

“Yes. I haven’t been eating your snacks because I’m trying to lose weight.” He thread a hand into his hair with a sigh.

“I see. So why have you still been eating your own?”

Shck! Matsuda could hear the sound of Kamukura’s keen argument cutting through his flesh. Those burning scarlet eyes were digging into his soul, slender fingers reaching towards the truth of his lie. It was a nauseating sensation, one that could have been completely avoided by just telling the truth to begin with.

But Matsuda was in too deep, as was the case with most of the lies and secrets he had picked up since beginning his studies at Hope’s Peak Academy. It was a realisation that shook him to his core.

A slow blink, “Matsuda?”

He snapped back to reality. “Let’s just get you cleaned up you gross weirdo. I don’t think I can stand being in the presence of someone so smelly for much longer.

Kamukura opened his mouth to argue, but his hair suddenly being pulled in the direction of the bathrooms distracted him. He knew better than to question Matsuda’s motives, no amount of interrogation seemed to get anything out of him. Besides, he was sure whatever deep rooted issues Matsuda was hiding would bore him anyway.

With Matsuda’s arm parting the curtain, the two of them stepped into the change rooms. Within moments, Matsuda was already pulling off his tie and tossing it into one of the lockers.

“It seems like a worthless choice to leave this building still functioning.” As he shrugged off his jacket, Kamukura watched the other’s movements closely.

“Not really, I’m pretty sure there’s a few people still staying here and using the facilities for convenience sake." Those precise fingers undid a few buttons on his shirt. "Not students, though, teachers, personnel.”

“I see.” In a swift movement, Kamukura pulled off his tie and placed it into the locker beside Matsua’s along with his blazer. “You do realise we won’t have clean clothes to change into after this?”

“There’s a few spare uniforms in one of the lower lockers. I had someone bring some here after our last incident.” The inflection on the last word would have made most people feel somewhat guilty, but Kamukura didn’t care in the slightest.

Matsuda pulled his shirt off, exposing his bare chest to the open air. Kamukura’s eyes immediately darted to the small pouch of baby fat sitting on his stomach, he wasn’t as chubby as Kamukura recalled.

A flick against his forehead brought him back before he could get too deep in his thoughts. “Stop fucking ogling me and get undressed, creep. Or are you such a useless weirdo that you need me to help?”

Before Kamukura had a chance to answer the question, Matsuda had begun undoing the buttons of his shirt, starting from the collar. He went to reject the help, as he was perfectly capable of doing it himself, but something about the other boy being so close in his vicinity just made him close his mouth again.

Once all the buttons had been undone and Kamukura’s mouth was thoroughly dry for a reason he didn’t understand, he shrugged the shirt off his shoulders and placed it with his other clothes. He realised he wasn’t getting any further assistance when Matsuda took a step back and kicked off his sandals, reminding Kamukura to slip off his own socks and shoes as well.

The click of unclasping metal seemed incredibly loud amongst the silence of the room, along with the following shuffle of Matsuda sliding his pants off his legs. As Kamukura began to unbuckle his own belt, he couldn’t help but glance at Matsuda’s underwear. Something deep within him was so curious about what Matsuda’s underwear looked like, and he didn’t quite understand what that was.

The answer was unsurprising. They were rather faded and thin, with an incredibly distracting striped pattern. Kamukura could see the globes of his ass through the fabric, which also meant they were much too thin.

He reverted his attention back to the task at hand, undoing the button and fly of his slacks before pulling them down and stepping out of them. He then hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers before tugging them down at well.

It didn’t feel too strange to be so exposed next to Matsuda, after all, he was frequently stripping down to his underwear for examinations. He would go naked had Matsuda not insisted on him not doing that. Kamukura could recall how he very clearly stated that he does not want to ‘see another man’s junk.’

Unfortunately it is inevitable that such an event will occur, especially if you’re often dragged into one of the science labs and forced to bathe under the cold water of the chemical rinse shower. Such a punishment would have taught most people a lesson about refusing to bathe, but not Kamukura.

“Oi, hurry up, I’m cold.” A harsh voice cut through Kamukura’s moment of recollection.

He turned to Matsuda just as he was closing the locker he shoved his underwear into. Matsuda had a pair of white towels in his hands, one extended towards Kamukura. Taking it with a steady hand, he then watched as Matsuda turned and headed into the men’s bathroom.

He's rather attractive from behind.

But like many other of his worthless observations, Kamukura shoved the thought into the deep recesses of his mind as he followed the boy closely behind.

The bath was rather humid, a thick layer of steam coating the room and leaving everything slightly damp and sheeny. The air was warm, implying that this place was used more recently than he had originally expected. “It appears you were correct.”

Matsuda tossed his towel onto one of the wooden seats near the corner of the room as he entered. Following suit, Kamukura dropped his towel there next to Matsuda's.

“Of course I’m fucking correct, I always am.” As Matsuda hissed, he pointed towards the row of showers and stools along the wall. “Sit down and I’ll wash your hair, it’s going to take too long to do yourself.”

“You understand that--” Before Kamukura could finish his sentence, a pair of hands slapped hard against his shoulders.

Matsuda spun him around and pushed him towards the showers, Kamukura walking along obediently. He didn’t speak a word as Matsuda forced him to sit down. “I understand that it’s difficult, Kamukura. You have a lot of fucking hair.”

He didn’t give Kamukura a chance to ask any more questions, as cold water was suddenly being blasted into his face from the shower head in Matsuda’s hand. He must have flinched, because Matsuda snorted and started cackling. “Oh the look on your face! So betrayed!”

Kamukura was certain his expression didn’t change, but Matsuda was acting strange. Like he was forcing a mood, deflecting, distracting Kamukura from his multitude of questions about the upkeep of his personal health.

Ah, he understood now.

He decided to play along. “To splash me with such cold water, how very cruel of you Matsuda Yasuke.”

Running the water onto his hand for a while, Matsuda allowed it to heat up and adjusted the temperature before bringing the stream of water back to his scalp. The warm water made Kamukura’s muscles feel as if they were turning to jello as a pleasant tingle creeped down his spine.

Lithe fingers threaded into the dark strands, spreading them in a way that allowed the water to completely rinse through. “Too hot?”

“Not at all, I prefer it hot.” Relaxing into the soothing touch, Kamukura allowed a soft sigh to pass his lips.

“Good, at least you’re not a complete freak. Still a little bit of human left in that big brain.” Matsuda tugged at a bit of hair, a small smile barely visible reflected in the mirror in front of him. It was a rare sight, he must be enjoying himself.

Kamukura considered returning the smile, but couldn’t quite bring himself to it, it felt wrong, foreign.

“You’re praising me for preferring hot water, yet I recite hundreds of digits of PI and you are not impressed.” He tilted his head slightly, allowing the warm water to trickle down his neck and onto his chest. “I do not understand, what is it about my intelligence that bothers you?”

“See, you’re asking stupid questions again.” The water was suddenly taken away, the tap switched off as Matsuda stepped forward to hang it back up. “Nothing about your intelligence ‘bothers me’ it’s just easier to fucking- to relate to you when you’re not whipping out a talent.”

He reached for a bottle of shampoo that had been left in a small tray on the floor, jumping when Kamukura spoke up again. “You would prefer if I was normal.”

Matsuda angrily snatched the bottle and uncapped the lid before tipping it upside down over the other boy’s head and squeezing hard.

“If that was the case, I never would have given you those stupid talents, would I?” His words were contradictory to his tone. And within them held a bitter truth Matsuda seemed to not want to be confronted with.

“You don’t understand your actions and resent yourself for it.”

“And you need to stop trying to psychoanalyse people. Nobody wants to talk to a weirdo who makes them uncomfortable.”

Once Matsuda has squeezed out the entirety of the bottle’s contents, he tossed it aside and began to lather up his hair, bringing the ends up and wrapping it in a soapy mess on top of his head. He was rather rough in his technique, but Kamukura didn’t mind.

Deciding to keep his mouth shut, he hummed softly in contentment. Trying to get anything out of Matsuda always proved difficult; he was stubborn. For a guy with such a deep interest in neurology you would think he’d be able to acknowledge his own psychological issues. It was just another one of Matsuda’s many self-destructive personality traits.

A strong tug on his hair perked Kamukura’s attention. “Oi, stop watching me like that. You’re going to get it in your eyes.”

He made a soft noise in response, allowing his eyelids to settle over his eyes. With one less sense active, Kamukura found himself melting into the sensation of blunt nails scraping along his scalp and massaging gently, almost as if they were seeking out something.

Slender fingers rubbed soothingly over the bumpy scars lining Kamukura's scalp, coaxing a soft huff of satisfaction from the boy beneath him. Matsuda made a noise like he was about to comment, but merely sighed instead. “Put your head down so I can get the hair at the back.”

Carefully, Kamukura craned his neck forward, uncovering his nape even further. It was an incredibly vulnerable position; completely naked with his eyes closed and neck exposed, yet he couldn’t find himself feeling worried. If Matsuda did have any intentions of killing him, he probably wouldn't mind dying by his hand anyway.

Matsuda's fingers threaded into the sensitive hair resting at the back of his neck, eliciting a shudder from Kamukura. He worked the shampoo into the knotted hair, grumbling softly as his fingers got caught multiple times.

“You really should try to brush this mess more often you know. If you just took better care I wouldn’t have to deal with it when it gets this bad.” A soft hiss could be heard as he yanked at some more strands, however, the sound hadn’t come from Kamukura. “It’s like you enjoy making my life a living hell.”

“That is not the case. Brushing my hair is a mundane task with little reward, I do not enjoy it.” Kamukura explained.

“Yeah, and neither do I.” A loud groan left Matsuda as he contemplated the best way to clarify things. “Most things involving general upkeep are mundane, but you still have to do them you spoiled brat.”

Those comforting hands left Kamukura’s hair and he found himself instantly missing the sensation. Leaning over his shoulder, Matsuda reached for the shower head once again and turned on the tap.

“Keep your eyes closed.”

A torrent of warm water hit Kamukura’s face, rinsing the shampoo from his bangs. He pursed his lips together and squeezed his eyes closed a little tighter to keep the soap out. Matsuda stroked through the wet strands to ensure they had been thoroughly rinsed, an uncharacteristically soft sigh escaping from him into the tense air.

When Matsuda moved to working on the back of his hair. Kamukura spoke up. “Something is on your mind.”

“Get out of my head freak.” That scathing tone quickly returned. “You just look weird like this, like a drowned rat.”

“Ah, I see. This amuses you?”

Another sharp tug on his hair. “No, brat. It annoys me how much of a child you are, completely incompetent. You know I don’t enjoy cleaning up your fucking mess.”

Grumbling something that sounded an awful lot like, “Dumbass.” Matsuda stood up again and turned the water off. “You can finish washing yourself, learn to be more responsible.”

Kamukura nodded. “Thank you, Matsuda.”

With a final sigh, Matsuda sat down in the stool to his right and reached for another bottle. Kamukura turned back to the dish in front of him, picking up the bottle of liquid soap before uncapping the lid and pouring some into his hand. He lathered it up between his hands to bring it to a light foam before beginning to scrub at his skin, starting with his arms.

Beside him, Matsuda was working shampoo into his roots. It was rather odd to see him with his bangs slicked back, exposing his forehead and thick eyebrows. He couldn’t help but admire how nice of a look it was on Matsuda, to have his face exposed to the light for once instead of hidden beneath dark bangs and poor basement lighting.

He really was as pretty as the reserve course girls rumoured him to be.

Turning back to what he was doing, Kamukura focused on the sensation of soap rubbing away the thin layer of grime that was clinging to his skin. As much as he refused to bathe, he truly did understand why people did it. It’s refreshing, makes one healthier, relieves feelings of fatigue. What he didn’t understand was why it seemed so difficult to motivate himself to engage in a task that rewarded him greatly.

It was strange. If someone desires to do something, they should do it, correct? Yet he had no desires.

They had been surgically removed by Matsuda’s precise hand.

Was his lack of proper hygiene habits only skin deep? Was there truly any point in analysing and fussing over it?

But, there was always that small chance, the chance that it was something more. Perhaps was there even something wrong with his brai--?

“Are you done? Or you can’t even do this?” Leaning his hands onto his knees, Matsuda pushed himself up from the stool and turned to Kamukura.

Ah, he had spaced out yet again.

With a nod, Kamukura reached for the shower head and began to rinse the soap from his body, avoiding Matsuda’s steely gaze all the while.

Once clean, he hung the shower head back up and looked to the other boy, eyes instantly wandering downwards in a moment of distraction. Huh.

“It’s smaller than average.”

Matsuda blinked hard a few times, processing the words. His face twisted into a scowl and his cheeks quickly flushed with a bright red colour as he followed Kamukura’s gaze, “What?!”

“Ah." He pulled his eyes back up. "Nevermind. It’s unimportant.”

With a huff, Matsuda turned on his heel and made his way over to the large bath. The other boy followed at a short distance, careful not to slip on the tiled floor that had been coated with a thin layer of condensation.

Once he reached the bath, Matsuda leaned down and sat on the wooden edge that rimmed it. He dangled his legs into the warm water, a rather gentle smile perking on those thin lips at the sensation.

“Oi, weirdo, get in.” He waved a hand, beckoning the other to join him.

Obeying, Kamukura sat himself down next to Matsuda. He then pressed his palms into the polished wood and shifted his weight, slowly lowering himself into the hot water. The water was a perfect temperature, and he couldn't help but let out a quiet sigh of pleasure as his torso became submerged in a blissful heat.

“It’s good, huh?” A soft chuckle escaped Matsuda, “Why would you ever deprive yourself of this?”

“Hmmmmm, I don’t know.” Closing his eyes, Kamukura sunk further into the water until it rose up past his lips and sat just beneath his nose, nearly impeding his breathing.

Matsuda slipped himself into the water beside Kamukura with a smirk. “Oh? So Mayor Dumbass of 'I Was Wrong To Not Listen To Matsuda' -ville admits he's at fault? You mean to tell me he isn’t a perfect being? Shocking."

Shaking his head, Kamukura pushed himself up out of the water a little. “No, I am a perfect being.”

With an exaggerated eye roll, Matsuda raised his arms over his head. He groaned audibly as he stretched the muscles and tried to work the tension from his shoulders.

Keeping the other in sight, Kamukura sunk back into the heated water, reveling in the feeling of being surrounded by such pleasant warmth. It made his skin tingle and his limbs feel like they were floating, much like his hair beside his face.

Moving through the water, he eventually came up the wall of the bath and leaned his back against it, allowing his eyelids to flutter close before taking a deep and relaxed breath.

With the environment being so calm, it felt as if his brain was finally beginning to slow down. Concerns about Matsuda’s wellbeing, anxieties of the past, confusions of the present; they all melted away into the muggy atmosphere, leaving his head filled with nothing but a pleasant foggy sensation. It reminded him too much of the drug induced haze that was settled over his mind for the first few days after his birth.

“Matsudaaaa.” His weak attempt to whine came out more like a monotone groan. “I think I might fall asleep here.”

“Don't be a moron.” Matsuda splashed a bit of water in Kamukura’s direction, smirking when it hit his cheeks. “I’m not going to save you if you drown in the bath. You're on your own this time."

“Mm…” With a soft nod, Kamukura submerged the lower part of his face again, indicating he was tired of talking. The pleasant warmth kissed at his lips, a sensual feeling that made every bone in his body soften beneath its touch.

He felt as if he were floating endlessly through space.

Logically, he wasn’t, it was merely the buoyancy of the water giving that illusion of sensory deprivation. But that didn’t matter, all that mattered was the enticing pitch black void beginning to swallow him whole.

Kamukura let go.

“Oi, troglodyte…”

“Kamukura?”

“Izuru-! What did I say?!”

#Danganronpa 0 #Danganronpa #Matsuda Yasuke #Kamukura Izuru #Matsukamu #Ficgiri

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