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#being stupid is a full time job and i am working OVERTIME!!!
feydfuckernation · 5 months
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[gene wilder vc] you know. morons.
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blueskyportrait · 7 months
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hi hi, posting an ask to clarify a few things: apparently the budgets for v9 and the JL league were separate and the real reason for v9's delay was the transition to working at home at covid. i dont like spreading misinformation (good lord the rwby fanbase has enough of it already) so i think this was fair to bring up. while i dont doubt the validity of the animators who worked on v9 and the JL cross over, i can't help but to feel weary due to the fact that this is freaking roosterteeth. a company notorious for their abuse of animators to the point of disability, how their shows are produced on slave labour, how they abuse their starry eye fans for cheap labour, how the higher ups of the company are very much either incompetent or rotten to the core. how can i in good conscious give this company the benefit of the doubt that the JL crossover didnt went through the same crunch or workplace issues? sure the animators got more worked, but were you guys properly paid for it? arianna fillipini's twitlonger details the MASSIVE amount of crunch (50 hr/weeks), how the pay was still below industry standard, how the leadership in v9 didnt help the animators, how everyone got laid off cus RT taking away full time employment, and this was all during VOLUME 9. something produced in 2020-2021, not 5 years ago. im glad the animators got a year of work, im glad they had an opportunity to network with other artists. im not upset that the JL happened, im worried that the same crunch and workplace abuse from v9 was carried over as a consequences of these crossovers being developed in house. while its really dumb to knowingly spread misinformation of RWBY's budget and production, i cant help feel this uneasiness towards every rwby fan on twitter just taking their word that the JL was 'totally a good thing!!!' and anyone upset by how they assumed that the JL took away resources for v9 (because it happened to v6 with gray smuggling money for gen:lock) are 'stupid little haters who use the poor animators at cudgels to flame roosterteeth!!!' am i supposed to trust the notion that suddenly all of the decades workplace abuse and mistreatment that persisted to it's latest season all went away? that suddenly the animators were given enough time and compensation for their work? that suddenly management became leagues better? suddenly all of our concerns towards the production of RT's shows and RT as a company are nonsensical? idk, the entire thing is really weird and the uneasiness i have towards CRWBY's production isnt exactly alleviated by the fact that the JL had a seperate budget :P at least we got to see the beacon designs again 🥃
@unovaslankiite your concerns are completely valid and you're not wrong feeling this way. Even if the budgets for vol 9 and JL were separate, that doesn't make what the animators revelaed just last year what they've been through all go away. Ar*yn Tr*che (who I personally belive is an RT shill so they can keep their job) should not be treated as the only source of info. Their words mean nothing to me. Like, ok, the JL and vol 9 budgets were separate. That doesn't excuse the animation department having to work double time during covid. Yeah you want to ensure they got work, and yet they were snubbed of their overtime pay.
And you're right, why should any of us believe Rooster Teeth? They've been proven over and over again to be liars, and it really isn't hard to notice the patterns of behavior over the years. They said crunch issues in production have been resolved and that was a fucking lie. The cuts to vol 9 and the production of the JL movie sound very similar to what happened to vol 5 when Gen Lock was being made. So people are right to assume the crossover movie affected vol 9.
Pointing all of this out doesn't make you "a bad faith rwby critic" or "wanting to pin blame on crwby" as some stans like to accuse others of. People like you and I are not content with just taking Ar*yn and K*rry's words at face value so they can continue to bury the truth. The stans who try to convince themselves that MKEK and the vas of crwby are separate from RT just want to ease their guilty conscious in wanting to continue to consume rwby content.
That's why they spam #greenlightvol10 on every rwby related post they make. It's a sign of sheer copium.
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marcholasmoth · 8 months
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OSRR: 3315
today was surprisingly tough on me.
it's not necessarily the exhaustion, although that certainly didn't help.
it's not the job, not in the least. i'm actually pretty proud of myself in that department. we had a meeting with jack today about the next GRR and i came up with a timeline for it. and he'll be talking to the product security guy on tuesday to kinda get the ball rolling for that. (when i told jack i wanted his job when he left, i didn't intend for it to be this soon.)
tw: disordered eating, money problems. suffice it to say i should really talk to my therapist soon. and learn boundaries because i need to care for myself too, not just everyone else.
most of my issues today stemmed from thinking about money. i have a fairly comprehensive budget i created in excel. it takes into account holidays, overtime pay, the hourly rate, taxes, benefits, all of my bills, and my bank balance at any given time. the problem is that i'm going to likely break even at the end of the year, which makes it frustrating because i'd like to have a little extra, yknow? when you budget you need to overestimate your expenses and underestimate your income. that way, you should be okay if something turns out weird.
but the problem i am encountering is that even what i'm making isn't enough. first off, i can't say "no" when people ask for help. i don't think about myself in that moment; i focus on helping whoever it is survive and get the things they need. when it comes to myself, though, the wants and needs are fucked up.
for example: when i talked to myself after work today, trying to figure out what to do for dinner, i asked my mom. she recommended wendy's and mcdonald's, and then she said "save your money." i know i should save my money. but i also need to eat. but my stupid little fucked up brain went, "i need to save money, but i want to eat." which, obviously, is a fucked up way to think. any normal person would say "they need to eat but they want to save money." but nope, not me and my fucked up brain, this shit could never.
so i spent about an hour being upset and trying to figure out how to eat something, save money, and comfort myself without retail therapy or actual therapy. this is a good thing to touch on with christine when i next talk to her. god, i really hope the state determines i can get a tax credit for my insurance. it's all killing me. when i help people and send them money, i think about them needing to eat, needing a comfortable place to live, needing medications to keep themselves well. i don't think about the fact that i'm hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt that i will likely never pay off. i did some calculations, and if i hadn't sent money to a friend, i would've been able to have dinner and not worry about it. but because i didn't do that, i spent the hour drive home agonizing about it before finally deciding to get a few things from the convenience store at the gas station and eating a pint of ice cream for dinner.
healthy? no. cheap? more so than a full meal. and it was from my gas account, so it doesn't go against my full budget.
god i'm such a disaster.
i need to learn to say no and i need to learn to have healthy boundaries and i need to learn how to fix my disordered thinking and the bizarre relationship i have with food. it's so fucking hard to handle it. i'm struggling a lot with it.
i definitely could've used a joel hug today, but he was out when i got home and has not yet returned. so i am joel-less and hug-less. affection is hard. i need so much of it but i get so little.
sigh.
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samwiselastname · 10 months
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Samwise Lastname Life Update (Negative)
I moaned and groaned in that selfie a bit already but like. I have many people who have offered to help me with many things. Truly thankful.
At the same time I've always been The Person with the stable job and full time wage, like, pretty much since I finished DBT halfway through college that's been my defining character trait. Even before then, it was "person who is a prime target for financial exploitation."
My current situation is a shared living space where I am covering about 4/5s of our expenses, by virtue of being able to mask my disability well enough to work full time. We are still coming up $400 short a month. I've just gotten assurance that should change, a housemate is seeking work, but. It hasn't changed yet, and even once it does, I will not feel secure until we have an emergency fund for housing, and I won't feel safe keeping any personal savings until that's settled. Which is a couple years out at this rate - even farther with some necessary home repairs, which will push our deficit even higher.
We only get takeout once a month at most, our expenses have been essential housewares and home improvement items - pest control, plumbing maintenance tools, repair supplies. A few hundred of that deficit is just repeat homeowner shit. We planted a garden this year which was an expense but, not exorbitant. I don't know how to cut down more without like. Eating less? Historically that approach has turned into dangerous weight loss & migraines pretty quick. As it is we're only spending about $100 more a month than the FDA's recommended frugal grocery plan.
I can stop buying alcohol & weed and save... about $10 a month. I could cancel some of my subscriptions and save $20-50. Anything I can cut back on at this point is not financially worth the detriment to my well-being, especially when things like "watching youtube on the TV" and "playing FFXIV" are like. Some of my only safe and passive low-pressure recreational activities.
Don't really know what to do about this other than keep grinding. I'm making myself sick. Tacking on any extra work - hobby creative pursuits that might one day turn into commercial creative pursuits, any amount of job hunting, even a shot at adult content creation - feels unbearable.
I am trying to stop "working overtime" because even the 40 hours fucks with my ability to do anything else. I tried to work around this by job searching and side hustling. Now all my hobbies feel like jobs and every day I'm not working on income feels like self-sabotage. It's stupid - I can get better compensation at my current job picking extra hours. At least when I do that I don't go into a neurotic spiral and stop sleeping. As much. It's at least effective.
So I have this limbo - working over 40 hours physically destroys me, and it's the only way to tip the scales at all right now. I know one can often get a pay raise by finding a new job but - yall the market sucks. I'm trying. I need full time remote WFH and good god is it bad out there. Plus my current insurance rn is killer - I have a 3k out of pocket max. My medical costs would outweigh the raise at any job I've successfully applied for thus far, because my current employer affords me this bizarrely fantastic health insurance with HSA deposits.
Just feel hopeless. If I've gone dark on you that's why. We have four months to get this shit fixed before we're totally fucked and I'm doing everything I can to buy us time.
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In the words of Rodney Dangerfield, probably: "I can't get no respect, and if I continue to encounter this level of disrespect, I'm gonna expose myself to high levels of radiation so I fucking die."
My first job was delivering newspapers. I was 11. I got tips rather frequently, which was great for a child with a burgeoning, Yu-Gi-Oh habit. The rules were to put the newspapers in between the storm door, get the papers delivered by 5 PM and be courteous.
I'd received a list of the customers that I'd be delivering to, which totaled about 80. My route was actually 3 combined routes, which was a lot for an 11 year old that has had punctuality and service absolutely branded into their brain.
My first complaint was a lady that was not on my list of customers who called my home multiple times because she hadn't received papers for a week. She yelled at me multiple times, including in person, until it finally sank in after the 15th time I informed her that she wasn't on my list. After it was corrected, I never spoke to her again, but I received $50 tips each Christmas.
My second, and thankfully final, complaint was from the wife of a family friend. She did not like me when I was 14 and I'm sure she'd hate me now. She very specifically told me that she wanted the newspaper rolled up in a rubber band and placed on the ledge next to the front door. I did this every day for about 6 months until the company I received papers from was actually out of rubber bands for a couple weeks, so I placed the paper neatly in the door for a couple days and they told me to do what they'd originally requested. I explained I didn't have rubber bands and i didn't know when they'd be back. They didn't care. I compromised and folded the paper neatly and placed it on the ledge. After a few days of that, the family friend, a 45 year old man, was watering his plants when I brought the paper up and handed it to him. Upon which the 45 year old man screamed at his 14 year old newspaper carrier, "ARE YOU GODDAMN STUPID?! HOW HARD IS IT TO FOLLOW SIMPLE FUCKING DIRECTIONS?!" From that day forward, I never stopped placing it, banded, on their ledge, out of fear of being screamed at again. (Sidenote: Paper carriers were required to purchase their $20 bags of rubber bands. I made, after taxes, about $80 a week.)
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After the paper route, I worked at a gas station for about 6 years. Day 3 of the job, an old man handed me a $50 bill for candy and I had trouble using the register to determine his change. He went to his car, brought in a handful of change and counted it on the counter in front of me, looking at me with every coin he counted. As he collected the change he smiled and said, "See? It's not that hard, is it?" I then refused to ever use the register's calculator again and did all the math in my head. Never missed a cent in 6 years.
Every once in a while we had a dentist and a drunk construction worker who would come in and condescend to me and scream at me for his tall boys for not being cold enough, respectively.
My first job out of college was a dying factory that I only took because it was full time. The HR person told me that she was hesitant to hire me because I had a degree. I drove 35 mins to this job every morning at 4:30 AM, would often get home at 5 PM, and was never paid a cent of overtime. Eventually, I was hired at a much nicer factory for a $5/hr pay bump that was 2 miles from my house. I turned in my 2 weeks and the HR person sneered at me, "Well, I've learned my lesson in hiring college kids."
After 3 additional jobs between the better factory and my current career, I had mostly positive interactions and only left those jobs to pursue better pay and better prospects as to my field of study. I've now been out of college for 10 years and am comfortable in my job. Occasionally, you have to deal with a difficult customer, but it isn't too bad.
This morning, I received an email after reaching out to a customer yesterday, in which he lambasted me for having the gall for contacting him, because he is a busy surgeon. All I originally asked was if he'd be available a certain day and if he wasn't, when could he meet.
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I broke it down into simpler terms, condescendingly apologizing to him for offending his sensibilities by having the gall to use language that I've used, verbatim, to communicate with hundreds of customers over almost a decade on the job.
Haven't heard back yet.
The point of this trauma dump is that I briefly touched on negative experiences in 4 jobs that I've worked. The situations I described took place over an accumulated, maybe, 30 days in the 22 years that I've been working. 30 days is about 0.4% of the 22 years that I've worked. I didn't even mention the fact that those 4 jobs were only half of the 8 jobs that I held in that time, and yet I'm focusing on this insane minority.
Your words mean so much more than you ever realize, for better or worse. If you can't pay respect to those that serve you, it points out a far larger cavity in your soul than your ego and prestige can ever fill. Never underestimate the fact that a single "fuck you," in traffic might consume a person's entire day. Watch your mouth and consider the fact that you are not the main character in this story.
Thank you for listening, though I'm not sure why you would.
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moonctzeny · 3 years
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Promotion
This is technically a part 2 of my fic Work for it but it can be enjoyed on its own!
pairing: supervisor !johnny x intern ! female reader x assistant !haechan
genre: smutty goodness (this will send me to hell vip)
word count: almost 14k
summary: “After you fuck the Sales’ department supervisor, Johnny Suh in your office during an overtime, you’re left to deal with the unavoidable lingering emotions that come with getting his dick on the regular. At the same time, his assistant and your best work buddy, Donghyuck, who initially helped you with getting with his boss, realises his growing crush on you that is too big to be ignored at this point. With their masterful skills in seduction, you’ve ended up tangled in a sexual game with the both of them, all the while trying to move up from an intern to a permanent worker in the company”
warnings: threesome w/ two doms, alcohol consumption, mention of food (meat, lettuce, eggs), oral, overstimulation, thigh job, at some point- reader borrows a shirt from haechan and it’s mentioned that it’s ‘too big on the shoulders’, thigh riding, office sex, pussy slapping, choking, fingering, sir kink thrown in there at some point, a little degradation bc this is my fic we’re talking about
a/n: omg it’s finally done! I really love this so I hope you guys like it as well :)
taglist:  @rainodanna​, @markresonates​, @unknown5tar​, @yoongsicles​
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For every other worker in the office, virtually nothing had changed. 
They relive the same mundane routine, Monday after Monday, the same excruciating 8 hours and short cigarette breaks. The same trees, stuck in their ceramic imprisonment would greet them in the company’s entrance. Rigid and dusty and reeking of cheap plastic. It’s not like they’d come alive, open their little mouths on their thylakoid membranes and tell everyone you fucked mr. Suh, the Sales Department’s supervisor, in your office during your overtime. No, that’s not possible, you reminded yourself when you pass by them every morning, giving them a side eye for good measure, as if that would scare them off their zombie state.
And you were the same too, completing your tasks and meeting your deadlines. Blending in with the rest of the company’s human resource, with the exception of the occasional double take of some tactless male worker here and there.
Donghyuck, however, said supervisor’s assistant and your best friend, wasn’t your typical office worker. He noticed the extra layer of cherry lip gloss coating your lips. He noticed your new perfume, sweeter than the one you used to wear. He noticed the knowing smiles between you and his boss, the heat of your body when you were around him. And it wasn’t just because he was sharp overall.
He was the one who practically got you together, planted the seed in Johnny’s head about the cute new intern of the Financial Department. He was the one who convinced him to finally make a move on you, tired of seeing you trying over and over again to seduce the supervisor to your bed. 
And when that seed finally sprouted, in the form of Johnny spitting in your mouth and taking you on your office chair like you were his last fuck on earth (according to the hair-raising description you gave Donghyuck the morning after), he should’ve been happy, right? 
It didn’t really affect his life in the slightest.
You were just y/n. His friend, his work buddy. The person whom he was close enough to let you know you had a piece of lettuce stuck on your teeth from that sandwich you had on your break. The person who texted him funny gifs of pandas falling asleep during the most boring of meetings. With your nerdy glasses and that ugly brown suit you loved wearing so much. The person he dreamt of fucking every time he fell asleep.
When you told Donghyuck you had a crush on his boss he wasn’t shocked, but the stinging buzz in his guts surprised him. He would see you waltz right past his office all perked up and pretty, to see the person you really came for, nervous as you hung from every word that left Johnny’s mouth. He’d put up with the sound of you giggling over every stupid joke that left the older man’s mouth patiently, just to wait until he’d smell your sweet perfume as you’d walk past him again. To tease you over something that would make you mad enough to notice him, glare at him, maybe even hit him.
And Donghyuck wanted to hate Johnny, he really did. His stupid boss who asked for his coffee specifically made, who was rude and cranky on Monday mornings and got the credit for all his hard work, yet Johnny was nothing of the sort. He was helpful, and kind and let him off early. He was funny and good looking and taller than him and had a six pack, damn it. If Donghyuck was being honest, he didn’t just like his boss, he admired him. It was pathetic, he thought. Most days he’d live vicariously through him. 
Sometimes he would lay on his bed at night, picturing himself to be the second lead of a romance drama that would sweep you off your feet. Everyone gets second lead fever, right? In his rem cycles, he’s handsome and hilarious and much more interesting than the main actor. He would imagine himself stretching out his rays, like the full, rising sun that he was, until they overcame the big mountain that was Johnny and reached your skin. So hot against it that you’d have to undress, remove the clothes sticking on your sweaty skin to embrace him. 
He thought about your body a hundred times too many for it to be considered healthy. The curve of your ass in your pencil skirts, the little hairs on the nape of your neck that stuck out from your tight ponytails. The runs on your tights that he wished were caused by the sharpness of his fingernails. He listened to your voice carefully, all 90 Hz of it, and played it inside his head as if it was an instrument. Putting together chords and harmonies, composing a music piece of all the ways his name would sound like coming out of your lips.
Donghyuck, Donghyuck, Donghyuck
“Earth to Donghyuck? Are you listening to me?”
It was unlike him to be out of it, especially when he was around you. He blames it on skipping coffee this morning or the shade of red of your blouse that fits you so well. Either way, he had to respond, and keep the pink from flooding his cheeks further. There’s no way you could’ve known what was going on inside his head.
“Uh, yeah, yeah. So, let me get this straight. Weren’t you the one who didn’t want a relationship?”
You were upset, he could tell. After the night of the overtime, you and Johnny had indulged in a few more nights of each other’s presence, but had kept it at that. Sex. Delicious, mind blowing, porno worthy sex, but nothing more than that. And you were starting to itch for a little bit more.
Donghyuck was right, of course. You were the one who told Johnny that this wasn’t the right time in your life for any sort of commitment, especially with someone in the workplace. This was your internship, and you were determined to get a permanent position soon, that should be your first priority. Get the bag and go. There were men everywhere. But why was your heart aching for that particular one with the long hair and the caramel eyes and the flower tattoos? 
“I just don’t want people at work to gossip about us, you know how they get. But seeing him so nonchalant about it gets on my nerves.”
Leaving his apartment at 2 am when he was sprawled out on his bed, in just pyjama pants and the light layer of sweat from the athletic sex you just had, hurt enough. It was a sight so beautifully hidden under his work attire that it soon became addictive, the withdrawal symptoms too intense for you to have your dose only once a week. 
Donghyuck scowled when you first let out a frustrated sigh, your eyes pitifully following his boss’s silhouette around. He knew you’d never really complain about it, you were set on that promotion and you deserved it too, but it was hard not to get angry. Everything he ever wanted stood willing and ready for taking in front of Johnny’s lap, how could he not claim you?
He hated seeing you sad.
“Let’s go for a drink. I think you need it.”
Even he surprised himself with the sudden proposition, blinking back at you to gauge your reaction. You were best work buddies, sure, but you never hung out after office hours alone. It would make sense for you to refuse, Donghyuck told himself, trying to soften the blow of a potential rejection. You’re probably tired from working, or maybe you’d feel awkward to be alone with him for so long. Maybe you hated to drink, or maybe you hated him. Oh God, what if you hated him? What if you only spent time with him out of social obligat-
“Sure, sounds good. Pick me up after you’re done? Since you’re on the top floor.”
Donghyuck nodded back at you, too eagerly for his liking, the gears in his brain already trying to figure out where he should take you. You excused yourself back to your office, the small pat you gave his shoulder making him grin like an idiot.
This is not a date, he reminded himself. 
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He had dreamt of this moment for months now. He thought about you every time he walked past that korean bbq place, promising himself that one day he’d muster the courage to finally ask you out. This wasn’t exactly the case today, but it was as close to his imagination as possible. This is not a date.
He repeated that phrase over and over again, let it resonate inside his head. This is not a date because he is a coward and you like someone else. Was he a bad person for taking you out today? Was he taking advantage of your slight disappointment? Was that why you ever said yes in the first place? The self deprecating thoughts lit a fire in his belly and he tried to extinguish it with every shot of clear liquid that disappeared from between his full lips. Like he expected, you weren’t far behind on the drinking either, enjoying the grilled pieces of meat blissfully, moaning in satisfaction with every delicious bite.
You looked pretty before, but now, through the pink coloured glasses of intoxication, you were stunning. There was a halo of bright light surrounding you, making you look so celestial chomping on that piece of lettuce. If it was anyone else, he would pull a face of repugnance at the sight, yet Dongyuck thought that you just looked so cute, so content in that little moment and he wished he could just lean in and leave a kiss over your filled cheeks.
No, that was a dangerous thought. This is not a date, pull it together.
Donghyuck desperately tried to focus his attention somewhere else, anywhere but you would suffice. His eyes finally landed on a bowl of marinated eggs on the table, and it reminded him of the three boiled eggs he makes for breakfast every morning. He was a man of habit, following the same routine until he’d see you and you’d colour between the lines of his life, making it interesting finally. Donghyuck would fill the pot with more water than needed, just enough so that it doesn’t overflow. He liked to be closer to you than he could handle, close enough but never touching you.
Lost in his daydream, he doesn’t realise that he hasn’t talked in minutes. And when you touch his hand lightly with yours to bring him out of it, he almost feels the boiling water burning his skin.
“You’re so quiet”, you say with a chuckle, and Donghyuck makes a mental note to add this harmony to his composition, “you got drunk before I did? Are you really Lee Donghyuck?”
“Well see, I drank all this soju, so I wish I was someone else for the night.”
The statement saddened you, and you withered a little in your seat. Why did Donghyuck drink so much tonight? You came here for you to cheer up, didn’t you? Or were you so caught up in your little personal drama - that you caused yourself - that you missed hearing about his cat dying? You must offer your condolences. Did he even have a cat?
You don’t want to bring up his dead cat in case he did so you just lift your hand next to his head, and weave your fingers through his locks. He has been growing out his hair for months now, and the look might not be the most corporate-professional but it sure fit him. The ash blonde shade that he decided to colour it, brought out the tan of his skin nicely, and the hair itself though bleached was still soft to the touch. 
You see him react to the work of your fingers instantly, his expression shocking you. His mouth is hanging open in a loose ‘O’ shape, small wrinkles forming on the space between his eyebrows. You pick out small pieces of hair, one by one, letting gravity do the rest by allowing the individual hairs to return to their previous state. 
“What are you thinking about?”, you ask so softly it’s almost a whisper, and Donghyuck can only sigh.
YOU, he wants to scream, you’re in my mind all day long and I think I’m going crazy! He is full on staring at you now and there’s nothing in the world that can take his eyes off of you, off your worried eyes that seem to hold all the stars in the sky, or the soft skin of your neck that he wants to kiss and suck and break so badly. But he doesn’t, and the soju calls him a coward for it, so he settles for the next best thing.
“You are pretty”
It was just three words but they sent your mind in a frenzy. Why did it matter so much to you that Donghyuck found you pleasing to look at? He has complimented you before, even flirted with you a lot of times, yet it was always said half-jokingly, followed by a diss. But this time he was serious, no signs of alcohol clouding his eyes. He was so solemn in fact, that those three words made the heat burn on the skin of your cheeks, rising up your throat and hindering you from responding with a human sound. 
He takes one more shot, washing away the embarrassment of his sudden confession and offers to order one more fatty dish to sober up, then take a walk in the city.
The walk was relatively quiet, less awkward than it was 30 minutes ago but Donghyuck was still being uncharacteristically silent.
“I thought you said that alcohol doesn’t make you red”, you say teasingly, trying to spark conversation. 
It doesn’t actually. You were the culprit of the wash of burgundy all over his skin, accumulating even more pigmented around his ears and the freckles of his nose. You were walking side by side now, and Donghyuck thought that for the passersby you two must look like lovers. He let his brain entertain that fantasy, his hand itching to hold yours. He’d intertwine your fingers together, give your palm a little rub with his thumb. Then he’d lift the bundle of fingers on his lips, kiss the thin skin of your wrist and make the aunties that are looking at you now coo in adoration.
“Says you. You look so fucked right now.”, he jokes and you’re relieved to see him go back to his teasing self. You don’t know if it’s the chilly night, but you’re overly aware of the heat his body emits, and the smell of his cologne makes your head spin just a bit more. You’ve been sitting so close to him this entire time that you can list off most, if not all, the ingredients in his perfume. Rose, chilly pepper, orange blossom, lavender. 
“Donghyuck, I will step on you.”
“Mmm, tempting”
You shove his arm playfully and he reciprocates, but his strength is not as controlled as he thinks. The heels of your boots, slippery against the wet floor that the drizzle caused earlier, make you trip on your steps, and Hyuck is luckily there. With his quick reflexes he catches your elbows first, pulling you up against his chest and you grab his left bicep to support your weight. 
You take a deep breath, to register that you did not fall head first on the floor, and that’s when you realise how close Donghyuck is to you. His bangs are tickling your forehead, your deep pants fanning them apart. You admire his glowing skin, the wrinkles of his lips, the two moles lined parallelly with the bridge of his nose. You’re not sure what comes to you, but you raise your free hand and place it over his hot cheek, your thumb connecting those two moles with an invisible line. A raindrop, fresh out of the sky and signifying the start of a new drizzle, falls on his face and follows the trail that a tear would, his voice weak and breaking when he speaks again.
“I’m sorry”
He dips down his head then, connecting your lips and letting the plumpness of his mouth reel you in. You’re over the initial shock almost immediately and kiss him back in vigor, surprised with the heat his kiss has spread to your chest and belly. It was an ember at first, glowing in the very depth of your insides but it was soon starting to spark up uncontrollably, and you were scared of how rapidly it was fueling up. This was your friend you were kissing. So where did all this hunger for him come from?
You pull back when you realise you’re in a road full of people, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him in the eyes. Donghyuck looks disheveled and anxious, and he apologizes again before he urges you to keep walking with him.
“It’s starting to rain. We should get home.”
You walk next to him in complete silence now, stealing quick glances of his reflexion at every surface that made it possible -  the windows of the parked cars, the puddles of water on the sidewalk, a passersby’s glasses. The look on his face is unreadable, pensive if anything else, and it’s rare for the expressive Donghyuck you’re used to dealing with. Your homes are towards the same direction, his a little closer than yours, and it doesn’t take too long for you to reach the entrance of his building, your clothes not even half wet from walking without umbrellas.
Donghyuck fumbles to find his keys, his hands shaking from the adrenaline his body released from the kiss earlier, the feeling still too fresh against his lips. He stresses thinking of what to do next. Should he hug you goodnight? Apologize again for kissing you? Unlock the entrance without a word and never speak to you again? 
“I’m here”, he states dumbly, as if you’d sit at the porch of a strange house and he avoids your eyes as if you were Medusa, “Goodnight.”
You smile back awkwardly at him, waving with a hand made of clay as you wish him the same. He has turned around to unlock the door, key already at the keyhole and you turn to leave too when his voice stills you in place.
“He’s an idiot.” His back is still facing you, and when he turns to look at you his eyes finally lock with yours, as honest and earnest as ever. “Johnny. If it were me, hell, if you wanted me like that I would grab that opportunity- grab you in an instant, convince you to be mine any way I could.”
You’re stuck looking at him like a fool, trying to comprehend what he’s saying and the complications of it. He puffs out through his nose, chuckling to himself and shaking his head.
“It doesn’t matter. Goodnight y/n.”
Donghyuck is half inside the entrance now and your body suddenly exits its frozen state, blocking the door from closing with your boot. He’s shocked with the sudden movement and he opens up the door further for you. You get inside the little hall without thinking, sitting firmly in front of him, a puzzled look on his face. 
“What if I told you he hasn’t even crossed my mind this whole time we were out? What if I told you I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you kissed me? Would it matter then?”
He opens his mouth momentarily, as if to speak but decides to stay silent. He already said everything he needed. It’s up to you now.
And you aren’t ready to leave yet.
You take a step forward to close the distance between you, your chests touching and you pick up the distinct smell of soju in his breath. You’re not sure if it’s that smell or the proximity but you feel drunk all over again, the yellow light of the hall shining disturbingly bright down at you and urging you to do something.
You plant a kiss over his neck, leaving a trace of the remnants of the pink lipstick you applied at the start of the workday. It was tentative, but you could still feel his raging pulse from under your lips. You could feel it get faster too, the rhythm going higher along with his body temperature and you decide on a path. A path of kisses starting from the same spot you’ve turned glittery pink, up his jawline and all the way to his earlobe.
Donghyuck clenches his jawline, you feel that too, and something snaps inside him. He just can’t take it anymore, having you so close to him, your lips on his neck and doing nothing about it. The boiling water finally spilled over the pot, hot and overflowing, and he doesn’t care if he gets burned.
You feel the cool wood against your back before you taste his tongue a second after. He has pushed you up against the entrance door, you realize, but it’s hard to comprehend anything around you when he kisses you like that. It’s the steamy, purposeful continuation of the kiss you shared earlier, and with the lack of prying eyes Donghyuck has a good idea of where he wants it to lead.
He shows you too, pushing his knee between your thighs and he feels your heat almost melt the rough fabric of his jeans. There are so many things he wants to do, so many lines he wants to cross but there is one thing he must ensure.
“Tell me you want this.”
You glide your hands upwards from his pecks to the slope of his neck and wrap them around his neck. Your body seems to act up on its own, and you feel yourself grinding down his leg that is still positioned against the wall. It feels dirty, the desperation of it all, and you connect your chest with his again before answering him.
“Lee Donghyuck. I want you to make me cum” 
You grab his hand before he gets to respond, the cool silver of his watch digging against your fingers, and you drag him to the elevator door. As if the universe had sensed your urgency, you find it waiting for you at the bottom floor, and you pull him inside with a tug of his tie.
In no time you find yourself pushed up against the wall again, and you can’t see much beyond Donghyuck’s lips, but you do catch him clumsily pressing the button to his floor with your peripheral vision. Once the elevator is in motion you feel like you can finally submerge yourself in his lips and the way his kisses take your breath away, not sure if the funny feeling in your stomach is from the sudden change in altitude or the arousal. You’re already taking his clothes off, removing the jacket of his suit off his shoulders and working the top buttons of his shirt open.
It’s him that drags you to his apartment this time, urging you out of the elevator as soon as the robotic declaim of his floor number rips through the wet sounds of you kissing. His keys are already easily accessible in his front pocket from your conversation earlier, and when he manages to unlock the entrance with trembling hands you walk inside as if you own the place.
It’s small and cozy, decorated minimally. The first thing you notice is that it smells like Donghyuck, something that should be obvious but it still overwhelms you. It’s maybe a bit stuffy from the hours he was gone yet this is the smell still lingering in your nose from his skin you were sucking just moments ago, trying to distract him from the easy task of opening the door. It’s addictive and you want it stuck on yours.
And Donghyuck does stick on your skin, discarding his tie on the floor with a strong pull and finishing the task of unbuttoning his shirt that you started in the elevator. His movements are impatient and soon he’s half naked, and you barely have time to admire his caramel skin before his hands are all over you. They start safely at the dimples of your waist, then sliding upwards to your ribcage and copping a feel of the underside of your boobs by sneaking his thumbs under the wire of your bra. You want to feel more, encourage his probing fingers so you reach to the clasp on your back, unfastening the garment and removing it through the hem of your blouse. 
Donghyuck can’t take his eyes off your chest, nipples hardened from your arousal and poking through the thin fabric. He takes his thumbs, the same thumbs that lit a fire in your belly earlier and flips the bud, toying it around and rubbing circles around it. The response from you is immediate, moans that start off soft and build up to a crescendo bouncing off the walls of his apartment.
It drives you crazy, a little bit, that smirk he has on his face now. It’s so familiar in between his features, you’ve seen it countless of times, especially during his typical teasings of you, yet is carries so much newfound weight now, so much sex appeal. He’s already giving you what you need but the climaxing is too slow for your liking, you want more and you want it now. You want what you asked him for in the lobby of this building.
Donghyuck can either read your mind or read through the increased frequency of your moans because he undresses down to his boxers, forming a trail of clothes from his living room to his bedroom, where he has led you. He doesn’t even bother to open the lights, relying on the moonlight from his window for lighting and pushing you down on his bedsheets. 
He climbs up with you, hovering over you and you move back a bit so that your head rests comfortably over his pillows. If the smile he gave you earlier had affected you, then the hungry look on his face right now almost makes you come untouched, his eyes raking up and down your body as if he doesn’t know where to start.
He decides on your calves, kissing them and moving upwards slowly and sensually, not missing the sensitive skin on the side of your knees and paying extra attention to your inner thighs. He’s still at it a minute and a half later, and you can’t tell in the dark but you’re sure they must be decorated by bite marks by now, his close proximity to the source of your pleasure making you squirm in his hold.  
It feels like ages since you last felt his fingers when he grips the soft meat of your thighs and spreads them apart. They soon move up to the hem of your skirt, rolling the fabric upwards and over your ass. You feel his breath against your pussy, making it tingle and twitch even more than it already has, and the wait feels like a new level of hell in Dante’s Inferno. 
A single finger pets you over your underwear, drawing lines over the damp fabric from your clit down to your entrance and then up again. You whimper and whine at the sensation that is half a step from what you consider satisfactory and he hooks a finger on the black lace, moving it to the side and letting you experience the cool air of the room all over again. The full exposure brings heat to your face and you breathe through the embarrassment that arouses you even more.
“Hey, Donghyuck?”
“Yes?”
“Is your cat still alive?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
He licks one long stripe over your entrance, and you feel the goosebumps spreading all over your arms and legs. Nimble fingers spread your folds apart, and you hold your breath as he lets his cool spit drip from his lips and land onto your lower ones, then starts sucking over your clit. His tongue is wet and his breath is hot, the combination driving you insane. You grip the comforter, digging into it with your nails to keep yourself grounded.
“Oh my god, yes, right there”
The praise motivates him to keep trying hard, not that it will take a lot of effort to make you come undone. Donghyuck’s unprecedented touches and the newfound sexual tension they have ignited had already worked you up, his skill in oral accelerating the build up to your climax even more. And just when you thought it couldn’t get better than this he starts a series of kitten licks right over your clit, each one sending a wave of pleasure stronger than the one before.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum”
You’re grinding on his face, trying to find the right pace when you finally come undone, thighs shaking and desperately trying to push his hands away to cover up your sensitivity again. His hold is steady and he continues to lick you keenly, the lewd sound of him slurping your wetness filling the room. Your eyes open wide and you can only stare at his white ceiling during your overstimulation, the cracks and crumbling plaster caused from humidity looking like constellations in your orgasm-drunk mind. The second climax hits you suddenly but forcefully, unable to control the volume of your voice, not that you can hear yourself clearly in your daze. It’s an array of moans and screams and tiny whimpers of Donghyuck’s name, his beautiful symphony coming to life.
His appetite for you is finally satiated, and he decides to take mercy on you and remove his lips from your pulsating heat. You look so beautiful right now, he thinks, skin illuminated by the pale moonlight that is reflected on the wetness dripping from your pussy. He hovers over you again, pulling you into another kiss and you lazily reciprocate. His member is painfully hard, sliding over your slickness. You squirm and yelp everytime the fabric of his underwear grazes against your clit, your nerve endings screaming in sensitivity.
“I don’t have a condom on me”, you whisper against his lips, the taste of yourself on his tongue engaging you in the kiss again.
“I’m too tired to fuck you like you deserve anyways”
It would be criminal from you to leave him untouched like that. He looks so hot over you, messy hair and chin glistening in your juices. You absentmindedly place your nails on his collarbones, then scratch your way down over his navel. Donghyuck hisses at the numb stinging of pain, hips buckling against your pussy in the pursuit of some sort of friction. 
You move your hand even lower, slipping your fingers past the waistband of his boxers. You move past the bristles you find and grasp his member, that is not too long but an impressive girth. You manage to free it from his underwear, and you can’t really tell in the dim lighting but you bet it must have turned a purple-ish red colour. It’s leaking.
“But we don’t have a condom”
You take one of his hands in yours, giving it a kiss to calm him down, then place it over your left boob. He toys with the mound of your chest, squeezing the softness. You had other plans for him.
Connecting your knees together, you let the softness of your thighs connect, with only maybe a slither of space between them. Your hands are still on Donghyuck’s cock and you reach to hold his balls, massaging them slightly and pulling him towards you.
He takes your cue and leans forward, sliding himself between your thighs. The moan he lets out is guttural and elongated, laced with the beautiful metallic tone of his voice. He lets go of your breasts and wraps his arms around your knees, putting your calves on each of his shoulders and continues to rut his hips against you. 
“Fuck. This feels so good”
You look up to see Donghyuck’s face, contorted in a frown that can only be described as desperate, his lips puffy and red from all the licking and kissing and sucking. 
He looks painfully sexy, and you momentarily imagine all the things you would do to him if the serotonin of your double orgasm and the alcohol in your belly weren’t weighing you down. You’d gladly stay up all night for him, tugging on his long hair as you’d let him bend you in any position he wanted. You bet that thickness would feel amazing stretching you out and you moan at the thought, your thighs flexing involuntarily and making him moan even more. 
Soon he has picked up his pace, the tip of his cock reappearing between your thighs more frequently and you can feel his thrusts getting sloppier by the second.
“Fuck fuck, I’m coming”
He suddenly pushes forward, almost collapsing on top of you as a string of satisfactory groans leave his lips. His hips still with a stagger and you entrancingly watch the ropes of white dripping from his cock and landing on your blouse. It was a mess, but you can worry about it in the morning.
Donghyuck fucks your thighs slowly for a little longer, elongating his pleasure for as long as he can and soothing the crescent moons his nails formed on your skin with his fingertips. He reaches one hand to his bedroom floor where he finds a -what you hope is- clean t-shirt, and pats his cum off your blouse as best as he could.
It has gotten late and you’re both exhausted, Donghyuck’s comfortable weight on top of you lulling you to sleep. He’s hugging your hips now, head resting on your stomach and occasionally kissing your hip bones tenderly. You’re not sure when you slip out of consciousness but you do hear Donghyuck mumble something against your skin, something the kiss of Morpheus doesn’t allow you to make out.
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You wake up to a white ceiling. Not just any white ceiling- a cracked, full of moisture pockets ceiling and you wonder when you let the humidity mess up your apartment this much. The culprit of your awakening, the morning sun rays that shine right on your eyes; way too bright than what you’re used to, force your eyelids to open, and it takes you a moment to adjust to the abundant light. This isn’t your apartment.
The sight of a man that greets your barely recovered rentinas shocks you, and you rub your eyes just in case you’re stuck in a lucid dream or something. You see the mess of ash blonde hair and the pile of work clothes discarded on the floor and your mind soon is flooded with last night’s events, buzzed out in your foggy memory. You sense another buzz as well, a physical one this time and you wiggle in place when you feel something hard and metallic digging in your butt. You prod a little with your fingers, trying not to wake up Donghyuck too abruptly and you realise that yes, you’ve been sitting on a phone all night.
Shouldn’t it be a Tuesday today? It’s very bright for it to be that early but surely Donghyuck must have set an alarm for the both of you last night. You yawn involuntarily, deciding to play with your phone until he wakes up as well when the bright white display pulls all the blood from your face.
8:40. You have to be at work in 20 minutes.
“Donghyuck! Hyuck!”
You didn’t care to make your touches light. They were shoves, really, pushing at his shoulders frantically to get him off of you and pull him out of his slumber. He wakes up with a gasp, trying desperately to keep his balance and failing, to then fall unceremoniously on the floor.
“What the hell?”, he groans out with a hoarse, groggy version of his voice, “My head is pounding”
“It will hurt even more once I’m done with you! You didn’t set an alarm last night? Today’s a work day!’
With his eyes bulging, he launches himself forward, grabbing the phone from your hands. 
“Shit, shit, shit”. He’s fully awake now, hands rubbing his face to come up with the next logical steps to take, in order to have you both at work on time and looking presentable. “I have a mouthwash and hairbrush in my bathroom, I’ll get ready here”
“And what the fuck am I supposed to wear?”
“Yesterday’s clothes? Are you really that concerned about recycling an outfit right now?”
You roll your eyes, pushing your blouse down and dragging his comforter off your body. 
“Did you forget about this?”
You straighten out the fabric for him to see, and the big, grossly dried out cum stains aren’t hard to notice. His face looks worried, but not necessarily apologetic, and you can almost see the scenes from the sex you shared last night play through his eyes like a porn film. 
“Your skirt is fine, right? I’ll find a shirt that fits you”
You’re spitting out the fluorescent blue liquid when he timorously walks in the bathroom to leave the piece of clothing he promised. It smells heavily of those moth-repellent sachets and looks slightly wrinkled, like something he pulled out from the depths of his closet but you don’t really have the privilege of playing Suzy Menkes right now. You pull and tuck the fabric in creative ways, in order to style the garment into something you might walk into work wearing one day, yet it’s painfully obvious to you how misfitted it is; too big around the shoulders as one would expect from a man’s shirt.
You exit the bathroom after giving up, pressed by the limited time and the sound of Donghyuck’s uneasy steps through the door. You let him freshen up as well and use the time to collect your things that are scattered all over his place - he was kind enough to bring you your bra that was discarded in his living room floor along with his shirt - and soon you were rushing out of his house and into separate cabs so as not to raise suspicion.
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The rest of the day was normal, well- according to this new definition of normalcy for you. Where everything and everyone seems to follow this movie script of what a typical company must look like, while you worry that someone will probe uninvitedly into your thoughts. God knows what they would fish out. A broken record player of Donghyuck’s moans when he cums, the burn of his thick sex rubbing against your thighs, the paths of his neck veins you memorized by heart. 
You shake your head to clear it from the intrusive thoughts, and click the refresh button of your emails. The sound of keys being tapped and printers being put to use lands you back to reality, and you calmly click on the new incoming message from the Sales Department.
It was Johnny.
You’d think that after having his dick down your throat for about half a minute, getting butterflies in your stomach from the mere sight of his email address would stop being a recurring event for you. But alas, here they were, tapping their little wings in a flutter that turns into a hurricane of anxiety, and you sarcastically thank the universe for having to deal with Johnny while looking like an 80’s librarian.
You walk up the stairs like your ankle’s dragging a ball and a chain, the piece of paper in your hands getting slightly ripped from the abuse of your nervous fingers. It was a stupid document, barely half filled with any valuable information and you think it can’t be worth the calories you burned with that trip. It certainly wasn’t worth entering hell, aka mr. Suh’s office, and just the thought of him waiting for you in his fitted suit and gelled back hair is making you light headed. If Johnny was Hades then Donghyuck definitely was Cerberus, guarding his boss with his three heads and his big dick.
You leave a breath out when you realise he isn’t there, making your way onto Johnny’s office with lighter feet. He smiles brightly when he sees you, handsome as ever, and you carefully leave the document on his messy desk.
“Well, isn’t it my favourite intern”
You laugh at his sing-song tone, enjoying how warm he was being today.
“You used to avoid me like the plague and now I’m your favourite?”
“You always were my favourite”, he winks, and pushes back his hair like he knows the effect it has on you, “If someone is avoiding anyone like the plague that’s Donghyuck. I would have sent him to you but I can’t find him anywhere.”
You gulp dryly at his words, an invisible awl pinching your chest. You could feel Donghyuck slipping away from every place that you might share, in a very subtle way, but still noticeable from you. He left the kitchen hastily when you walked in to make your coffee, excused himself out of the lunch break through which you always kept him company, and now he was gone as well. Was last night such a big mistake in his point of view?
“I’m kidding, I just wanted to see you.”
He motions you to come closer and you timidly oblige, serenaded by the sound of his voice but not missing the hunger his eyes hold. He’s still seated in his big leather office chair, thighs spread out in a way that turned you on embarrassingly much, and you fit yourself in the space between his long legs. 
“He is very jumpy though, Donghyuck. Do you know what happened to him?”
Your whole body tenses up, muscles hardening defensively. “Why would I know?”
“I don’t know. It’s just that you guys are so close.”
Close. Close as in having his knee between your thighs, close as in being pushed up against his chest and the elevator mirror. Close as in knowing how his tongue feels massaging your clit. 
“Have I seen you in that before?”
You’re confused with the sudden question and when you search for the context you realise he’s talking about your- Donghyuck’s shirt. Did he smell the sex on you? The overwhelming scent of pheromones and Donghyuck’s cologne that your nose just couldn’t ignore?
“I don’t think so”, you try to answer as nonchalantly as possible, “it’s new.”
“No”, Johnny insists, and pinches the fabric with his fingers. He’s very knowledgeable about fashion, always complimenting you on your outfit choices and you know he wouldn’t let this one go so easily. “I’m sure I’ve seen this before.”
You follow his line of sight towards the ivory fabric too, as if you expected there to be written “YOUR ASSISTANT GAVE ME THE BEST HEAD OF MY LIFE LAST NIGHT”, in a bright red marker. It was a prison, in the form of 99% cotton and 1% pure anxiety, and you know you had to distract Johnny out of this subject one way or the other.
“You like it?”, you ask seductively, tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear.
“I’d like you better without it.”
With just one strong, yet calculated pull he has you sat over the length of his thigh. Your hands land on his chest for stability, right over his pecks that fill your palms easily. There’s nothing you want more than to suck on those perfectly sculpted lips of his, but you’re not too faithful on Donghyuck’s mouthwash so you settle for the earlobe that isn’t pierced instead.
He loves the feeling, the activation of his erogenous area and the suction of your lips that resembles one of your favourite activities together.
“I like this shirt”, he starts, unbuttoning your chest into plain view, “and I love this skirt”
He runs his big hands over the plumpless of your ass, squeezing it then retracting his fingers back on your thighs. They’re cold against your burning skin and the contrast causes goosebumps to erupt in the shape of his handprint.
“You love all my skirts Johnny”
“I do. Because I can do this”
His fingers roll the hem of your skirt up your thigh, the only thing separating your heat with the smooth fabric of his slacks being your skimpy underwear. You’re pretty sure the wetness must be transferring to it already, your thoughts of Donghyuck and all the things he could do with you having you desperate for a release. Johnny pets your clit over your panties then, just a light graze of his finger that elicits a moan from you.
Your hips move on their own, slowly humping his thigh that flexes from under you. You grab his tie to help your movement when your pace picks up, enjoying his body heat that coated you. 
“Someone might see us.”
His desk chair was large, sure, but so was Johnny, and even though his back was facing the door of his office, no one could mistake the sight of you riding him as anything else. 
“I told you, Donghyuck keeps disappearing. And it seems like it won’t take you too long to cum with the way you moan like that, right babe?”
“Johnny…”
You were a whiny mess at this point, humping his leg to reach your high. He was nice enough to help you, his hands guiding you as you mess up all over him, lips stuck on the patch of skin right under your ear.
“You know, I kind of miss you calling me Mr. Suh.” he whispers as he’s sucking on your neck, and you shiver at the tone of his voice, “What do I have to do next time you come over to have you call me like that?”
You can’t contain your whimpers anymore, the stinging tears of arousal threatening to roll down your face, so you close your eyes to keep the moisture in. Everything is just too much, the pleasure of your clit rubbing on him, his nails that dig in the flesh of your hips, the heavy suggestions in his words; your orgasm was hanging by a thread and it was a matter of seconds for it to snap. And it did snap, with a bite on your neck, and along with it your eyes snapped open as well.
Donghyuck was staring right back at you.
Your eyes crossed in pleasure, blurry vision making it hard to focus on him. You were falling apart over Johnny’s body, legs shaking and insides melting with his praise. Donghyuck took the sight in from the opened door, eyes studying your face of pleasure and bare chest decorated with Johnny’s kisses peeking from his own shirt. You’d be lying had you dismissed the fact that his presence intensified your orgasm times a hundred. The exposure of your act, the naughtiness of getting caught and by him of all people. You watched as he retreated outside from the office with silent steps, to give you privacy or recover from the embarrassment or both.
And Donghyuck would be lying too, had he said he didn’t like the sight. The mere memory of your face all fucked out flushed his own in crimson red. He remembered it all clearly, from your plush lips to Johnny’s mess of a hair, to the tremble of your body. It refused to leave his mind, the scene of you getting satisfaction from another man, but not because he wanted to erase it. He thought he fit right in, right in that scene between you and his boss.  
You texted him later that day, apologizing for what he had to witness and promising him you would return the shirt as soon as you washed it. He politely allowed you to keep it, not at all acknowledging the incident from earlier, nor the night you spent together. You didn’t have the guts to ask, for you didn’t know that Donghyuck didn’t regard last night as a mistake, like you thought. He was tired of boiling in the guilt of his feelings, selfishly admitting to himself that he did not regret a single thing. He was into you, he meant every word that came out of his mouth, so why was he avoiding you all day yesterday? He was still the fucking coward.
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The next day came rolling along, and with it came a long list of things you wanted to avoid. The first one was arguably dealing with your best friend, the lengthy paperwork you had to fill out being a close second.  
Your mind was occupied with a plethora of thoughts, with Johnny holding the main spot. You’d seen him in your sleep last night, starring in the extremely detailed wet dream your brain fabricated for you, hot breaths and deep thrusts forcing you into the disappointing consciousness of today’s morning.
And the pictures he had sent you right after you decided to get up weren’t helping either. His tall, half naked build occupied most of the shot, skin glistening in the after-shower steam. His toothbrush was hanging from his foamy mouth, in an attempt to make the picture look nonchalant, yet you knew his motives. You let your eyes drink up the sight of his defined abdomen, then moved downwards along the dark happy trail that peeked from the towel, loosely hanging from his waist. Hip bones teasing you and all. Just drop the fucking towel Johnny.
Needless to say, you were a mess when you arrived at the office. The cats in heat outside of your window, the phallic shaped baguette your baker generously treated you with this morning; everything seemed to remind you of the heat between your legs that you couldn’t bring yourself to ignore. You tried rubbing your thighs, drowning in the paperwork, even locking your phone in one of your drawers so as not to be tempted to look at Johnny’s thirst trap again. But he had won.
You grab a bunch of documents that seemed important enough, shove them in your favourite binder, and make your way to Johnny’s office upstairs. 
You knew you had to deal with Donghyuck. It was the unavoidable repercussion of messing up your life like that, getting men that were too good looking for this boring ass company tangled up in what seemed to be a simple internship. Taking a deep breath, then two more for good measure, you start to strut confidently in a straight line that led to Johnny’s office door.
“He’s on call, come back later.”
Your head instinctively turns to the source of the sound, to find Donghyuck staring at the display of his laptop that seemed to be much more interesting than you. The matter-of-fact way he formed his sentences was not unlike him, yet something in you begged for a little bit of attention. Blame it on how horny you’ve been all morning, or the fact that now that you’ve seen him naked, the strict tone affects you much more than it should.
Bothered by your thoughts and thinking about having to sit back at your office for the rest of the work day, you let the binder slip from your hands and drop on the wooden floor. You lean down to collect the scattered pieces of paper, your heels making it hard for you to keep your balance easily, and soon enough you sense a movement from behind you.
“No panties huh?”
It was supposed to be a surprise. Payback for the dirty thoughts Johnny planted in your head this morning. You’d walk in all innocently, sit right across his desk and give him a little Basic Instinct Sharon Stone moment. Then leave him high and dry again, while mentally keeping a note to clear out all your plans for the weekend. But see, he couldn’t give you what you wanted after all, and your resolve started to break. Whatever it was you wanted, you wanted it now.
You get up, unfolding your body slowly and refusing to look at Donghyuck, much like he did when you walked inside. The smirk playing on your lips couldn’t be concealed through your voice.
“Like what you see?”
You gasp as he presses up against you, the only contact you have with one another being his hard-on that nudges your ass. Following your body’s orders, you push back against him too, and you can tell the breath he lets out is ragged and full of tension.
He reaches for your binder with an arm around you, flipping through the pages as he sucks his teeth in disapproval.
“These are last week’s reports. Are you really here for these or are you looking for another quickie with Johnny?” A moan escapes you then, and the little thrust that Donghyuck allows himself drives you both crazy. “Thought so. How insatiable are you? I made you cum two nights ago, Johnny helped you out yesterday. If you really are that desperate you could’ve just come to me for help, doll”
His soft palm rests on the front of your thigh, slowly sliding his way under your skirt. You squirm in his hold in anticipation, and you have to bite your tongue to hold in the noises that threaten to leave you. 
“Donghyuck, Johnny is sitting right through that door. He could come out any minute now and see us”
“And?”
“Your boss is sitting right through that door. You could get fired”
“I could die after this”
His thumb ficks your clit swiftly, and Donghyuck takes this opportunity to slip his other one inside your gaping mouth.
“But-“
“Shh. Don’t talk with your mouth full, baby”
You’re melting in his hold at this point, your back still resting against his chest, lips sucking his digit. The scent of his cologne that you’ve grown so familiar with overwhelms you, painting all your surroundings in a red tint of lust.
“Spread your legs for me”. You oblige with his orders immediately, your arousal not allowing you to keep him waiting. “Wider”.
You take a quick look behind your shoulder to check that the door is still, indeed, closed, only to be met face to face with Donghyuck. His breath is hot against your face, eyes locked on his thumb toying with your lower lip and you completely forget what you initially turned around for. The kiss was natural, your lips melding easily with his ones. The need for him washes over you like a heatwave and you lift your skirt to urge him to continue before you go insane. 
He gets the hint and moves his hand lower, middle finger tracing your opening ever so slightly. It makes you shiver and you realise how quiet the room has fallen, the only source of sound coming muffled through the closed door to Johnny’s office. It excites you and it must show through the wetness between your lower lips, and Donghyuck patiently collects it all. He transfers the moisture over the bud of your clit, his finger smoothly massaging the sensitive skin. It feels divine and there’s no way you’d ask him to stop yet you know there’s something else Donghyuck is after, the sweet tightness that he didn’t get to experience that night at his apartment.
It was a bit much to fuck you out there like that, even for his exhibitionistic tendencies, but nothing could stop him from feeling the next best thing. 
His first finger enters you unhurriedly, careful of your reactions. You moan out his name and he moans at how tight you are, soft pussy practically sucking his finger in. He soon enters his ring finger as well, slowly moving them inside you until you feel every stretch and curl. Your wetness starts to drip at this point, coating his fingers with your juices.
“Such a dirty girl, making all this mess at my office”
The leisure pace ruins you, your eyes shut close in search of patience. You feel his other palm move from under your skirt as well, resting flat against your lower abdomen. He wants to feel himself inside you.
“Donghyuck, please. More”
A chuckle is heard from your left ear, and you can vividly imagine how his face must look like now. The cocky smirk, the tongue poking the inside of his cheek. The next pump has you muffling your whimpers with the back of your fist, his fingers curling just right and fucking straight into your g-spot. 
“More? Look at you. Pretty slut.” 
He’s full on finger fucking you now, and swallowing your moans is gradually becoming more and more difficult. The world crumbles from under your feet and you let yourself get carried away in the intense pleasure, the fast pumping making your legs shake.
“You’re gonna cum?”, he whispers again, and you can only respond with a nod, “That’s my fucking girl”
The orgasm’s intense, shaking you as you bite your hand and hold onto Donghyuck for extra support. He continues to move his fingers afterwards, drawing out your euphoria for as long as he can, then finally leaves you empty once your moans have died down. You immediately cover yourself up again once you sober up from your high, suddenly embarrassed by Donghyuck’s intense stare. He’s moving his eyes through all the features of your face, only for them to fall frozen on your lips, and lifts his hand up to rest his two fingers over them. You get his initiative and put them in your mouth, tasting yourself on your tongue.
“Unless you want us both to get fired I think you should go back to your office. I don’t think I can contain myself around you”
You release his digits with a pop, your eyes full of seduction.  
“What would you do to me?”
Donghyuck growls at your question, turning you around so that you’re fully face to face and chest to chest. 
“You’d look so pretty on your knees, mouth full of cock”. He grabs a handful of your ass, bringing you flush against him and proceeds to grind his painfully hard dick between your thighs. Your noses touch and you feel dizzy at the proximity; the words he mutters against your cum coated lips. “I’d peel those clothes off of you, find the nearest mirror. Stretch you out against the glass so that you see how good you take it.”
You shiver as a response, then force yourself to put some distance between you before you do something stupid. He kindly helps you collect your things in silence, those useless documents that were laying scattered on the floor, and in a moment of weakness you let him pin you against the wall right before you go.There was something so addictive about him and your chemistry, and your lips burn at the memory of his kisses. You’re not sure how much longer you can contain that hunger anymore.
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The end of a shift and the beginning of another overtime. It felt like deja vu at this point, after all the countless extra hours you’ve put into the internship, seeing people grab their briefcases and their car keys as they empty the space around you. You take a moment to appreciate the view of the setting sun from the small window of your office, inhaling deeply as you wrap the hair that’s been bothering you in a ponytail. Your neck hurts and the tension of your body is translating into a dull pain, so you stretch it a little, bobbing your head from side to side.
You jump a little in your seat when you feel a set of hands on your shoulder blades. They massage the sore spots, treating the muscle knots and helping your blood flow freely. It was obvious Donghyuck didn’t have enough of you earlier, and you pout at having to turn down another visit to his apartment because of your overtime duties. 
You were ready to scold him off, tell him you’re busy and that you promise to make it up for him another time, when you feel his soft lips kissing the most sensitive spot on the slope of your neck. You let out a long sigh, subconsciously exposing your neck more for him, and a high pitched whine rumbles in your chest. It’s released as a moan of Donghyuck’s name.
“Donghyuck?!”
You freeze in the uncomfortable arch, your ears confused by the deepness of the voice belonging to the man behind you. Not even the confusion laced in it can cover up the lack of airiness and clarity you’re used to when it comes to Donghyuck’s tone. It’s Johnny.
“I… We-“
You’re left speechless, clueless as to what to say next. You know you don’t have to explain yourself, it’s not like you and Johnny are exclusive. Yet his shocked face at the sound of his assistant’s name coming so lewdly off your lips has your brain scrambling to find some sort of explanation. Thankfully, he’d interrupt your panic in a second.
“The big boss wants you upstairs. I offered to come get you.”
He doesn’t sound angry or upset, nor disappointed. It’s a fresh air of relief before you realize that this is not what you should worry about right now. What the hell does the CEO of the company want to talk to you about? Are you getting the boot? It must be it, but why? Your numbers have been great, you’re always on time - except that one morning, but technically it was Donghyuck’s fault - and you’ve been praised by your supervisor numerous times during your internship.
Unless- What if there’s cameras in the office? 
You start to panic at the thought of an involuntary sex tape become the cause of your dismissal, so caught up in your thoughts that you’re completely unaware you’ve spent the entire trip up the stairs with Johnny in silence. When you enter the CEO’s office, heartbeat echoing loudly in your ears, you notice that all of the department’s supervisors are present in the impromptu meeting as well. You sit next to Johnny, in an attempt to calm yourself down, and you see the head of your department send you an encouraging smile.
“Shall we start?”
A briefing of your work in the company ensued, numbers and graphs that wouldn’t make sense to anyone other than the people in the room. Thirty minutes have passed and no surveillance tape has been whipped out, turning you more confused than ever. The numbers were good, the words from your supervisor are complimentary, so why would they fire you? 
“That is all for the briefing. After seeing your progress and the contribution you’ve made to the company, we’ve decided to offer you a permanent position, if you’d be interested of course”
Oh my god. You can’t believe this day finally came. Your face was glowing, and you tried to convince yourself to stay calm while you talked about your new position and the raise in salary that came with it. With shaky hands you sign the documents, and your boss congratulates you once again, dismissing you off your overtime. 
You waited for everyone to leave the hallway before jumping in Johnny’s arms. He caught you easily, strong build supporting you and lifting your feet off the ground before landing you safely again.
“Good job intern, I’m so proud of you”
“Hey, I’m not an intern anymore!”, you complain by bumping his chest with your fist and he pats your head lovingly in return.
“Why did you have to be in the room as well? Did you know about my promotion?”
“No, actually, they just told me an hour ago. It was hard to keep myself from telling you everything right away.”
The excitement coursed through you, and a sudden urge to kiss him until your lips were numb overwhelmed you. You were ready to turn your thoughts into reality, when you saw Donghyuck from the corner of your eye, instinctively smiling at your obvious happiness.
“What’s the occasion?”
“I got promoted!”
Donghyuck gasped, a huge smile spreading across his face. Your excitement’s contentious so he tackles you without a second thought, his embrace so tight that you can barely breathe. You can see that he’s trying his best to contain a kiss, his glance moving back and forth between you and Johnny. He still kept a possessive hand around your waist once he let you down however, a gesture that could seem innocent yet you knew better.
Johnny smirks at the sight of you two, confidence dripping off his body and making you shiver. You get dizzy at the thought of Donghyuck not knowing that Johnny knows about you, yet Donghyuck knowing about Johnny but not giving a fuck.
“So how do we celebrate?”, the older man asks, with a playful tone that might as well be your active imagination.
“Wanna go for a drink?”, Donghyuck suggests, boldly keeping his eyes at you only while he does so.
You pout in thought, humming pensively when an idea pops into your head. 
“How about you come over my place for one?”
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You should have thought this through more thoroughly, is all you can think about as you’re trapped between Johnny and Hyuck on your couch. Well, not really- there is a sizable distance between you three, yet the atmosphere in the room is so dense it’s nearly palpable. Three glasses, half-full of the alcohol of their choice are sitting on the coffee table in front of you, and you awkwardly stare at the sweat that falls from your glass and forms rings on the wooden surface. 
Your body has loosened up from your drink yet your heart can’t stop racing, not when Donghyuck is looking at you like that. He looks like a man starved for days while you’re the meal presented deliciously in his arm’s reach, and he can’t wait to have you alone and curve his growing appetite. And you ignore Johnny’s cheeky smiles and flirtatious winks as well, carrying on a conversation that doesn’t belong in the inescapable tone of the room but flows easily, until it ends and you’re met with heavy silence and the ticking analog clock on your wall again.
You ask them if they would like some water, getting up before you receive an answer, and you yelp a little when you feel a strong arm halting your trip to the kitchen before it even started. You lose your balance and wobble a little in your spot before unceremoniously landing on Johnny’s lap.
He doesn’t help you up, but loops and arm around your waist instead, holding you in place. In circumstances other than the ones that have already made their mark on your sexual history, staying in this position with his assistant still in the room would be highly inappropriate.
“You’re all we need”, he reassures you with a voice made of silk, then repositions you with a jerk of his knee, your heat grinding right against his half hard member.
“When were you gonna tell me?”
You open and close your mouth sequentially like a fish out of water, choking out a reply after the insistent tick-tock that resonates through the room and gives a tempo to your anxiety.
“I’m sorry?”
“You know what I’m talking about. A little birdy told me I’m not the only one enjoying this perfect little body. Is that right Donghyuck?”
Donghyuck’s eyes bulged out of his skull, almost choking in the sip of the drink he was enjoying when the unexpected question hit him. Sizzling heat floods your face as he stares at you sternly, and you shake your head defensively.
“I didn’t tell him-“
“Well no, not exactly”, Johnny interrupts and places his big hands over your thighs, “I was just kissing her neck, trying to get her to relax, and lo and behold, she starts moaning your name like its a fucking reflex. You’ve really gotten into her head, apparently”
Donghyuck swells up in pride, that much is evident, yet he’s way too distracted to say anything in response, too busy staring at Johnny’s fingers spreading your thighs apart to expose your damp underwear. Johnny’s lips are planted on your neck, teeth nibbling on your earlobe and you wince when you feel the sharp sting of a slap on your inner thigh.
“You aren’t being a good hostess, baby. Open up your legs more, let Hyuck see your pretty pussy. You remember what word to say when you want me to stop, right?” You whimper the designated safe word while opening your thighs further, digging the heels of your feet in the couch’s pillows. “Good girl”
He dips a hand through the band of your underwear, busying his fingers under the fabric. You moan as they slide through the wetness and he smiles a cocky smile when he sees Donghyuck palming himself through his slacks. He removes the skimpy thong with the help of your hips moving to assist him, to then push the fabric inside your mouth with little to no resistance from you.
“Isn’t this pussy divine? I swear when I bottomed out inside of her the first time I thought I lost my damn mind”
He toys with your opening, only dipping half a finger in to challenge Donghyuck to pay attention.
“We haven’t actually…”
“She only let you play with her?”, Johnny teases him, then pushes his point and middle finger all the way inside you, making his assistant’s imagination run wild at what your pussy must feel like sucking him in. “You’re missing out man”
“I’ve made her cum probably twice as many times as you’ve ever have”
You chuckle at his smart remark and Johnny glares at you, softly slapping your pussy to keep you at bay.
“No one addressed you. You’ll get to make all the noise you want in a sec, baby”
You squirm in place, letting out a muffled apology through your gag and Donghyuck looks seriously affected by the sight.
“Isn’t she obedient?”, Johnny asks while grazing your g-spot, and you moan from both the praise and the stimulation.
Hyuck unbuttons his pants at the lewd sound, pulling his dick from the slit of his boxers and you admire his impressive girth. He lets his body decline comfortably on the pillows behind him, spreading his own legs at shoulder-length. The mouth-watering sight of him jerking himself slowly with the aid of his precum clouds your vision; you’re just as needy for him as he is for you.
“She’s a little brat”
“I guess I know how to make her listen”. Johnny lifts your dress over your hips, then helps you off of it through the hem. With a rehearsed flick of his fingers he discards your bra as well, leaving you completely naked for Donghyuck’s eyes to feast on. His hands immediately grope your breasts, playing with the mounds and putting on a show. “I could undress you over and over and over again”
You feel his fingers retract from inside your pussy to form a ‘V’ over your lower lips, making your hole even more visible along with the wetness that’s dripping out of it.
“Will you let Donghyuck use your pussy baby? I feel a little greedy using it all on my own”
You groan in the anticipation and let your head fall back on Johnny’s shoulder, nodding pathetically and mumbling through your thong.
“Oh god, yes, yes, yes”
Donghyuck has heard enough, and with Johnny urging him on he’s standing half naked in front of you in seconds. His boxers are discarded next to his trousers on the floor, tie hanging loosely from the collar. He still has a hand wrapped around his angry sex, red tip and veiny details making you swoon.
“Go on”, Johnny encourages him, “she’s more than wet enough”
Donghyuck rests his left knee on the cushion of the couch, right between your foot and Johnny’s thigh. A little foiled square is getting ripped by his nimble fingers and you bewitchedly watch him wrap up his cock. He slaps it over your entrance a couple times, coming in contact with the other man’s fingers that are still keeping you fully exposed, then finally thrusts himself inside you. A conglomerate of what seems like three different curses leave his lips, eyebrows furrowed in a pleasureful expression.
“Fuck”
“Tight, isn’t she?”
“So fucking tight baby, damn”
Johnny may have a cock so lengthy that most men are envious of, yet Donghyuck’s girth is really something else. It stretches you out more than you've had in months, dull pain getting numb with every release of serotonin from your brain. You almost cry when he removes the entire thing out of you.
“I have to feel that again”
And indeed he does, submerging himself in the tightness of your walls only his fingers had the privilege of experiencing thus far. You feel amazing wrapped up around him, pussy hot and burning in desire as he dips himself further inside you, pushing you up against Johnny’s chest. You hiss in the sting and whimper softly, prompting the man behind you to ungag you finally.
“What is it baby? Hyuckie’s dick is too big for your tight little hole?”
You nod affirmatively while keeping eye contact with the man mentioned, big glossy eyes awakening something dark inside him. He wants to ruin you.
“Maybe you don’t fuck her hard enough”
You can’t see Johnny from the way you’re seated but you know he must have a smile on his face, well aware of the confidence he possesses for his own abilities in the bedroom. His big hands leave your labia and make their way over to your calves, bending you in a way that is almost painful.
“How about you show me how it’s done, then?”
Donghyuck is always up for a challenge, so he wraps a hand loosely around your throat so as to gain leverage. He pulls his hips backwards, gaining momentum, then slaps them forcefully against your own. You moan loudly at the depth, hands scrambling to find something to hold on to as he’s nailing you against the couch. Johnny’s there to catch your sounds with his lips, eating them up eagerly as he slips his tongue inside you and continues to play with your nipples. 
“Is that hard enough for you?”
Continuing his brutal pace restlessly, Donghyuck tightens his grasp around your neck, enough to hamper your blood flow and drool around the other man’s mouth. You’re so out of it at this point, dirty sound after another leaving your lips and you gasp at Johnny’s fingers that are suddenly circling around your clit.
“I’m close, please”, you manage to whimper from between them, Hyuck’s pace only fastening in the sound of your plea. The tip of his cock, thick like the rest of him, grazes against your sensitive spot again and again, not missing a single thrust. He digs a thumb in the softness of your cheek, pulling you away from Johnny and connecting his forehead with yours. By the sounds of his grunts it won’t take long until he comes as well.
“Made just for me”, he whispers against your lips, and you gasp when you feel the heat overflowing in your sex area, vision blurry as you let go and scream in complete pleasure. Donghyuck basks in the confirmation of how good he’s made you feel, hips stuttering as he empties his cum in you and inside the condom. His thigh muscles may be contracting in tiredness yet he doesn’t halt his movements, milking your orgasm for all its worth. You’re basically putty in Johnny’s lap at this point, sex drunk and high from your release.  
“Not bad”, he admits, even though he had some credit to claim with the fast fingerwork he showed earlier. He holds your thighs again, closing them up to help you relax and you wince at the pain in your haunch, the result of staying in a flexibility-demanding position for so long.
You wait until your heartbeat slows down, turning around to face Johnny as Donghyuck ties up and discards the used condom. He sends you a warm smile, petting the messy hair out of your line of sight and you relax in the feeling of safety, batting your eyes up at him cutely.
“What about you?”, you practically meow, moaning softly as you feel his boner twitching from beneath his trousers.
“What about me? Didn’t you have enough?” 
He knows your appetite, knows there’s no way you’d be satisfied by one round only. And how could you, when he sits so deliciously from under you, his big body reeling you in. You know what he wants to hear.
“Please, Johnny”, you plead, playing with the thin tie still neatly keeping his shirt in place. “I need you”
“You need what?”, he growls against your lips, trying to coax as much desperation out of you as possible.
“I need your big cock inside me, please”
“Ass up”
You get up from your seat, complying with his commands and getting on your knees before your tired legs betray you and leave you a mess on the floor.  His hands cup your ass in admiration, giving it a little spank before he slides them over your dorsals. A careful push forces you to arch your back even more, and your cheeks burn at the eager position he has bent you in. You shiver when his cock enters you halfway.
“You’re still not used to me babe?”
“It’s not my fault that you’re so fucking big, Johnny”
“Then maybe I should stay still? Since you can’t take it?”
“No!”, you oppose, tears of frustration threatening to spill out of their ducts, “I can take it, just move!”
You howl as he bottoms out, his long length making you lose your mind. It’s been a while since you’ve had anything more than his fingers and you’ve missed the way he fits inside of you. You hear shuffling from behind you and soon he’s bending over you, wrapping his tie around your neck. With a pull you’re flush against his chest again, and the buttons of his shirt are already leaving little indentations on your skin. You wish it bruises.
“Do you remember what I wanted you to call me the other day?”, he whispers next to the shell of your ear, dark tone sending shivers down your spine.
“Mr. Suh”
“Exactly. Now will you let me fuck you the way I want?”
“Yes sir”
“What a good girl”
Johnny slams into you fully, every pull of his hips resulting in the restriction of your airflow. A game of wanting more of him and sacrificing your oxygen for it begins, and it doesn’t take long for you to turn completely into a submissive mess for him. He’s whispering filth in your ears, hips keeping their inhuman tempo until you’re all out of energy and fall nonvocal. Donghyuck gets hard again at the sight.
It doesn’t go unnoticed by Johnny, who is more than willing to share your body for the pleasure he’s after- at least part of it. He waits until the younger man’s dick is fully solid in his grasp, standing tall and red right in front of you and he lets go of the constraint of your neck without notice.
You fall face first on Donghyuck’s thick thighs, his quick reflexes catching you from a harder impact. His member is twitching right next to your face, tip grazing against your left temple and he helps your head up by wrapping your hair in a makeshift ponytail that his fingers hold together. You wrap your lips around his tip obediently, twirling your tongue around his member until you reach his hairy base. He tastes a bit rubbery from the condom earlier but you choose to ignore it, focusing on hollowing your cheeks around him instead.
Every hard thrust of Johnny’s propels you forward onto Donghyuck’s cock, the bobbing motion natural yet you struggle to take them both inside you. Donghyuck enjoys the vibrations of the moans you make when the other man hits a deep spot in your pussy, Johnny groans when you clench around him as Donghyuck abuses your throat. It’s a give and take of intense pleasure and you know you can’t take much more, the men’s moans growing louder with every thrust. 
“Do you like Hyuck’s cock needy baby? Have you finally had enough?”
He punctuates each word with a slam, one harder than the other, and the rope inside your belly snaps with the arrival of your second orgasm. You try your hardest to stay in place, beg your thighs not to let you collapse as you let Johnny drive you into overstimuation.
“Yes, sir. I love it”
Johnny grunts at the sound of his title, so dirty coming muffled by another man’s dick that it’s enough to send him over the edge. You feel the hot cum filling up the condom inside you, and his spurts take so long that the little tweaks coax another orgasm from you.
Donghyuck drinks up the scene unveiling in front of him, a steady hand forcing your jaw open as he starts to jerk off quickly over your face.
“I want to see your tongue covered in my cum”
You lick your lips seductively in response, opening your mouth up to welcome his ropes of white liquid that leave his slit a second after. They fill your mouth little by little, painting the inside of it and you hold your tongue out to show him his creation, a couple of drops dripping from the corners before you swallow as much as you can. He collects whatever’s left on your jaw, pushing it in and letting you suckle on his thumb dumbly before letting go.
You collapse on the couch, exhausted after giving all that your body could handle after a work day, and you sit in silence as Johnny massages your feet and Donghyuck kisses your neck to calm you down. Your head hurts from the sex and the possibilities that this new combination can bring to your love life, belly tingling in excitement at the same time. You don’t know where this will lead, or when will be the next time you’ll indulge in the company of the both of them stuck on your body. All that you know is that this promotion, at least the celebration of it, tastes really, really sweet. 
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thank you for reading ❤ feedback is much appreciated! If you liked Promotion you can check out Work for it to see where it all started! :) 
1K notes · View notes
writingmaneskin · 2 years
Text
Kiss and Make Up - An Ethan Torchio Blurb
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Pairings: Ethan Torchio x Fem! Reader
Warnings: smoking, NSFW, fluff with sprinkles of angst, swearing
Words: just under 1k
Taglist: @queendorkula , @teenyweenynightghost , @idyllicbutterfly, @its-afucking-mess, @theimpossiblehologramtree, @iosonoarina, @ethaneskin, @vita-thrasher, @bieberhoodforever, @ilwiwbysmv, @homesicam, @hiraetheral,
This was requested!
A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this one, and I hope you like it too, especially the anon who requested it! Feedback is always welcome!
Join the Taglist || Buy me a Coffee || Send me a request
“Why is everything so chaotic around here?” Your boyfriend asked, frustrated as he was trying to sort through the mess in the living room. The table had papers on it, some bags with snacks and your laptop. The couch had a few clothes that you had thrown on there after work, when you had been too tired to deal with putting them in the laundry, as well as two of your handbags that you had switched between during the week.
You felt bad about the apartment being in this state but you were exhausted from working overtime and working on your hobbies which you wanted to turn into a full time business too. More often than not, you would get home, exhausted and just undress, scattering the clothes wherever, take a shower, eat something quick and then get ready for the next day after sleeping for a few hours. The mess was an accurate reflection of your mental and physical state and while you felt awful that he had come home to that, it also hurt that he didn’t realize how close you were to burning out.
“Because, amore, I have a stupid 9-5 to job and too much other shit to do!” You lost your temper. You were exhausted, on the verge of burnout and him causing a scene after being gone for so long stung.
“Okay, I get that but I have been gone for what, almost a month, and this is our home?” He raised his voice too. He was never one to lose his temper but you could see that he was tired too.
“I am not going to have this conversation.” You grabbed your pack of cigarettes and stepped out on the balcony.
“Of course, you won’t.” He mumbled as you closed the balcony door and stared out at nothing.
“Don’t mumble behind my back, stronzo.” You gritted out. You smoked quickly, the anger and annoyance slowly starting to simmer down. You put out the cigarettes and stepped back into the apartment, not bothering to say anything as he was humming to himself in the kitchen area, doing the dishes.
You started stripping, leaving the clothes on the edge of the bed in your bedroom. Without a word, you passed him by all naked and went into the bathroom, not bothering to lock the bathroom door. You turned on the water to almost the hottest setting and sat down on the floor, content with letting the water just wash over you. You closed your eyes, trying to shut out everything.
What made you open your eyes was the cold air hitting you all of a sudden. Ethan stepped in the small bathroom, looking at you for a moment sitting there on the floor.
“Are you crying?” He asked.
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters, amore.” He put his hair up and squatted in front of you after closing the door.
“I am a shitty girlfriend, am I not? And we are fighting, are we not?”
“You are not a shitty girlfriend, amore mio. A little chaotic, yes. In need of a break, absolutely...”
“A break?” You looked at him, your heart stopping in its tracks. “You want us to have a break?” You teared up, terrified that you might lose him.
“No, no, no, not in that way.” He cupped your face gently, wiping away the tears. “Cazzo, the water is hot.” He shuddered and moved to make it slightly less hot before sitting behind you on the floor, the water hitting him too but not as much as it did you. He was worried about it burning you.
“I would never leave you, cucciola.”He leaned down to kiss your neck gently. “I am sorry for being an asshole.”
You leaned in, desperate to feel him.
“I love you with all my heart, you know?” You replied. “I am sorry for being a mess.”
“You are not a mess, my love. Sometimes a bit messy, yes. But it’s normal.” He kept kissing your neck. “You have been working so hard and I have been gone for so long…”
You moved from your position to turn around and face him, wrapping your legs around him. You rested your arms on his shoulders and leaned down to kiss him.
“What’s important is that we are now together, cucciolo.” You kissed him very gently and he pressed you even closer.
“Yes, and I will find a way to kidnap you for a little holiday so my angel can have the relaxation that she deserves.” He promised, kissing you again.
“You deserve a holiday too, my darling.”
“Yes, but I want to take care of you first.” He reached for the shampoo bottle which was waiting on the floor. “You are my principessa and I want you to be okay.”
“I love you so much, Edgar.” You kissed him back, the loving nickname earning a chuckle out of him. “And I want to take care of you too.” You added, earning another smile from him, relaxing as he started washing your hair, finally letting yourself relax and allowing yourself to be taken care of.
“I love you just as much, Y/N.”
156 notes · View notes
realcube · 3 years
Text
❥ HOW HE CONFESSES
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characters ❥ mikey, draken & baji 
tw ❥ the beach, bad driving, mentions of murder and cursing 
cr ❥ requested by anon
a/n ❥ i’ve not read the manga yet :’(
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MIKEY 
♥ his love language is shoplifting for you <33
♥ like okay.. in writing it kinda sounds pathetic compared to all the other shit he does but like.. he goes through the effort of personally picking up your favourite snack from the grocery store —instead of getting his toman underling to do it for him — and hiding them under his shirt 
♥ and he thinks about you the whole time he is sprinting away from security 
♥ if that isn’t true love idk what is 
♥ today wasn’t any ol’ day tho, snacks and sweets were going to cut it 
♥ instead, he went for the big shiny rock on a ring he keeps seeing the window of the rock shop on the high street
♥ it was pretty, for a rock, but not pretty enough for anyone in their right mind to think it’s worth £10,000/$14,000/ ¥1,500,000!!!
♥ however, after hearing that price from a salesperson, he knew that stupid rock ring was exactly how he’d win your heart <3 
♥ it was a challenge and it had him working overtime, but after pulling some strings, doing a couple favours, and maybe even inadvertently killing some people (you never know 🤷‍♂️), he managed to get his hands on the pristine stone, which he had come to learn was called a diamond, which was why it was so expensive 
♥ the guy who did him the favour of stealing it initially asked if mikey was planning on proposing and mikey said yes —since asking you out on a date is technically a proposal — and the dude didn’t even question it, he just said good luck
♥ and that sort of energy was exactly what mikey needed right now as he stood behind a wall near your lunch table as he mentally prepared himself for what he was about to do 
♥ all your friends had left yet you were still sitting there alone since mikey texted you and asked for you to wait behind, and the fact you actually did filled him with hope from the get-go
♥ “(y/n)! there you are!” mikey greeted as if he didn’t know exactly where you were this whole time. why was his heart thumping so harshly in his chest? and why did he suddenly feel overwhelmingly embarrassed? i mean, he’s not done anything worth being awkward about.. yet.
♥ he didn’t understand. he never usually gets this way around people. but then again, he shouldn’t be surprised since he knew you were an exception from the beginning
♥ “hi, mikey.” you hummed, head propped gently on your arm while you slipped your phone away, “why did you want to see me? is something wrong?”
♥ the slight concern he detected in your voice was enough for him to immediately blurt out, “oh, no! nothing like that! everything is great; i am great and i, erm, hope you are too.” he announced, somewhat glad that your only reaction was a blank stare as it meant he doesn’t feel inclined to explain himself 
♥ “so, uh, i was just wonder if you..” he started, clenching his jaw as he mentally reassured himself. the fact that he felt embarrassed about feeling embarrassed made things infinitely harder from him. he took a deep breath, and spilled
♥ “do you want to go out on a date with me sometime?” he basically screamed, squeezing his eyes shut tight and emptying his left pocket onto the table in front of you so that his special gift would accompany his proposal 
♥ he closed his eyes as if that was going to protect him from rejection, but before he was able to silently rebuke himself, he heard faint sobbing from where he dropped his present 
♥ upon opening his eyes, the shock from the sight before him was enough to give him whiplash
♥ in an unfortunate turn of events, he must’ve emptied the wrong pocket because sitting on the table in front of you was not a diamond ring, but rather a sherbet dip he bought to share with you if you said ‘yes’ to his proposal 
♥ and his suspicions were correct, you were the one crying 
♥ ....
♥ waIT WHY ARE YOU CRYING mikey panicked, frantically looking around for someone who might’ve hurt you, or perhaps someone he’d have to send to A&E
♥ “are you okay?”
♥ “yeah.” you whispered, your light chuckle enough to prevent mikey from worrying any more, “i’m just..” you stuttered, smiling fondly at the blonde, “i’m just really happy. i thought you’d never ask.” 
♥ it was impossible for mikey to conceal the sigh of relief he breathed as he slumped down next to you on the bench, “thank god. i thought someone had threatened you or something.”
♥ “threatened me? why would they do that?” you innocently cocked your head to the side, rubbing your eyes as you did so. 
♥ oh, yeah. mikey hadn’t been fully transparent with you about his.. current employment. as far as you knew, he was a full-time student at ‘toman academy’ and he had a part-time job babysitting (which was hardly a lie, in his opinion)
♥ so you didn’t really know about how he was the leader of the tokyo manji gang or any of that
♥ originally he thought it was fine to keep it a secret, but now that you were officially his partner it would be immoral to not let you know about his affiliation with the gang 
♥ so he decided to tell you over a sherbert <33
♥ “so, are we official?” he cooed, ripping the lollypops out of the bag and popping one in his mouth while offering you the other by tapping it against your lips lightly 
♥ “yep.” you smiled, taking the lolly into your mouth with a smile, glad that he didn’t bring up your little waterworks a few second ago 
♥ but in all honesty, he was preoccupied wondering what the most appropriate way to phrase ‘i am the leader of a gang of delinquents’ would be 
♥ poor little mikey brain working on overdrive 
♥ he decided to pull out the ring, since he still had to give that to you, so while you were entranced by the fat gem glistening under the light in mikey’s possession, he began, “so, babe, do you think being a gang leader is hot?”
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DRAKEN
♥ he honestly didn’t have a clue how to ask you out
♥ in fact, he didn’t even know that he had a crush on you until mikey pointed out all of his weird behaviours around you 
♥ so his first instinct was to go to mikey for advice when thinking of ways to ask you out 
♥ but the only idea that mf was to get ‘will you go out with me, (y/n)?’ tattooed onto his ‘thick skull’ and ofc draken wasn’t about to do that
♥ although he did consider it for like.. a minute
♥ (he was like.. hmmmm... well, the tattoo guy does owe me a favour so... maybe i could get it for free?)
♥ (or permanent marker might work???)
♥ anyway, he eventually decided to ask you out the good ol’ fashion way!! by just telling you how he feels
♥ however, once he explained this plan to mikey, he was scoffed and said ‘good luck with that’ in the most condescending tone of voice
♥ draken’s initial instinct was to simply beat up mikey and go ask you out anyway, but this conflict ran deeper than just him and mikey bickering about trivial issues- his whole relationship was on the line! 
♥ so after hearing the leader out, he finally decided on the most appropriate way to confess — just like how all the dudes in the animes mikey and him and watched did it 
♥ by giving you flowers and chocolates <3
♥ and mikey even offered to come into the store with draken and help him choose the goods since mikey was a self-proclaimed ‘love-expert’
♥ draken obviously denied his offer but he came along anyway 
♥ “ooh, ken-chin! look at these ones, they’re on sale.” mikey gasped, happily grabbing a pack of heart-shaped chocolates off the shelf, ripping them open and stuffing his face, “and they are delicious too!”
♥ paying no attention to the fact that mikey had essentially already committed a crime since there was no way he intended to pay for those chocolates, draken mused while eyeing up the rest of the sweets, the bouquet of flowers he had already chosen tucked under his arm, “valentine’s day was a week ago, that’s probably why they are on sale.” 
♥ “draken?” 
♥ a familiar voice from the end of the aisle caused draken to avert his gaze from the chocolates displayed in front of him and instead search for the source of the voice, which happened to be you standing innocently with your basket in-hand
♥ “ah, (y/n),” draken tensed, immediately shoving the bouquet of flowers behind his back at hopefully out of your sight as he put on a forced smile to distract from them too, “what a nice surprise seeing you here.”
♥ “hm?” mikey chimed in, unable to vocalise his curiosity through the chocolates stuffed in his mouth, but that didn’t stop him from trying, “is that the (y/n) you were talking about? the one you were going to conf--” 
♥ “that’s enough outta you.” draken hissed through a fake smile, shoving mikey into the next aisle, which happened to be the snack aisle so, entertained, he decided to stay put
♥ “oh, is that your friend mikey?” you inquired, having only ever heard about mikey through rumours up until now. though none of them exactly matched the image you saw just there
♥ “yep, he’s pain sometimes, but he’s still cool.” draken muttered, awkwardly rolling on the balls of his feet as he waited for a deity to save him from this interaction —  not that he didn’t want to talk to you, it’s just that every second you spend with him, the less likely it becomes that his confession will go as planned
♥ and you only confirmed that with your follow-up question
♥ “i see you’ve got flowers, and you’re looking for chocolates. who’s the special someone?” you teased, poking draken’s cheek playfully (which is one of the many things he only finds comfort in when you do it)
♥ “oh, no one.” he hummed, his coy smile doing a number on your heart rate
♥ “how about you? who is that card for?” he inquired casually, gesturing to the classic pink ‘i have something to tell you... <3′ confession card that was only in-stock during valentine’s day season, that was sitting atop the groceries in your basket
♥ a cocky smirk tugged at his lips — as if to say ‘i won’ — while he watched you become increasingly flustered right in front of him. it was adorable
♥ but he thought it would stop there; stop with him winning the teasing battle, you getting all sheepish then leaving but that apparently wasn’t your plan
♥ instead, you lowered your head and outstretched your arms to give him the card (which was still in the wrapping plastic) 
♥ “red-handed. i bought these with you in mind, draken.” you said, voice barely above a whisper, “but if you don’t accept then that’s fine too, have a nic--”
♥ “who said i don’t accept?” draken grumbled, almost as if he was annoyed, as he took your card and examined the card thoroughly for a couple seconds
♥ then suddenly, he froze. the shock of the realisation leaving him stunned to the point where the only thing he could do was shift his eyes from the card on to you and utter in a terrified tone, “this isn’t, uh, this isn’t a confession, is it?”
♥ you shrugged, “i guess, it is.” 
♥ “damn it.” draken cursed, glaring at the snack aisle and hence mikey, for giving him this stupid idea
♥ “is there a problem?” 
♥ “no.” draken said through gritted teeth before pulling out the bouquet his had hidden behind his back, “but i was meant to confess first.”
♥ your jaw dropped, leaving draken concerned for a second until you instantly pulled him in for a tight hug; another thing he admired about you was that you gave hugs like you were in the mafia, strong enough to cut off his airflow
♥ “double confession!” you squealed, absolutely delighted that draken not only wanted to confess to you, but he had the same idea to come to the shop and buy stuff beforehand
♥ “i guess so.” draken chuckled, handing you the bouquet of flower as soon as you pulled away, “these are for you.” 
♥ you gasped, smiling at how he managed to remember your favourite kind of flower after a single off-handed comment you made ages ago, “thank you!” you hugged them to your chest, “have you already paid for them?”
♥ “no.” draken replied simply. “but they are still yours.”
♥ sometimes it slipped your mind that draken was part of a literal gang since.. he just seemed so normal and humble 
♥ but on some other occasions, it was painfully difficult to consider draken anything close to ‘normal’
♥ and one of those moments was when he was trying to convince security he was pregnant with a flower-baby, and when that evidently didn’t work, he just made a run for it with mikey, whose pants pockets were filled with sweets that trailed behind him where ever he ran
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BAJI
♥ he didn’t even ponder about how he was supposed to confess to you for over a second
♥ the idea just came to him instantly and he went with it
♥ the only question he asked was ‘how can i show them how badass i am without bragging?’ and he immediately came up with an answer and rolled with it, no questions asked 
♥ and there was no planning or anything done beforehand either, he literally just texted you ‘where are you?’ at like 7PM and when you replied ‘the park’, he hopped on his bike and sped over 
♥ like he didn’t even ask which park.. he just guessed.. but he guessed correctly 
♥ your heart almost stopped as you watched a chunky motorcycle come speeding towards you at such a rate that all you could do was brace for impact and kiss goodbye to your relatively peaceful live
♥  however, at the very last second it swerved around you and came to a halt, allowing the rider to extend his free hand to you, “hop on.”
♥ the voice was all to familiar and you weren’t surprised at all to see baji with his signature ‘i could kill you’ grin plastered on his face 
♥ as your heart rate slowly began to return to normal, you cried, “what do you mean ‘hop on’? you almost ran me over!”
♥ he unclipped his helmet and tossed it to you, “safety first.”
♥ “did you even hear what i just said?” you grumbled, putting on the helmet anyway 
♥ “i think you said something about how excited you are to finally go out with me.” he mused, shuffling forwards slightly to give you more space to sit on behind him, like a true gentleman /s
♥ “no.” you replied simply. 
♥ though you initially had no intention of going anywhere with him, you still found yourself reaching your leg over his bike to take a seat behind him, “where are we going?”
♥ baji shrugged, chuckling slightly as he felt you gently wrap your arms around his hips, “don’t know, but hold on tight.” he warned, revving his engine and taking off without another word
♥ perhaps you were the fool for getting on a motorcycle with baji and letting him take you to an undisclosed location, but you trusted him enough to know that he wouldn’t try to drive you off a cliff or put you in danger.. or at least, that is what you hoped
♥ however, if it wasn’t a rival gang that kills you, baji’s driving definitely would
♥ he drives like a madman and left you with no other choice but to cling onto him for dear life, since if you didn’t bury yourself into his side, you’d probably fly off with all sharp turns he does around the other cars/bikes
♥ it was like being taped to the top of a vehicle in mario cart
♥ eyes squeezed shut, you yelled over the harsh blaring of the wind, “slow the fuck down! where are you even taking me?” 
♥ baji was having fun, but he was getting the feeling you weren’t..
♥ usually he doesn’t care about what other think but this was the first time he was taking you out, he didn’t want you to think of him as a maniac driver, or else you might not want to come with him ever again
♥ “if you open your eyes, you’ll see.” he uttered, slowing down slightly so the noises weren’t as harsh 
♥ taking his word for it, you hesitantly pried open one of your eyes and turned your neck so your face was no longer pressed against his shoulder
♥ and honestly, you were glad you did. passed the edge of the road, you had the perfect view of the beach below, the sea gently glistening under the orange sunset 
♥ now that your nose was free from only breathing in baji’s sickeningly strong, wild spice body spray, you finally able to enjoy fresh ocean air 
♥ “the beach.” you mused, smiling down at the completely deserted sandy shore, which looked so beautifully peaceful in contrast to how busy it was when you usually come 
♥ “no shit.” baji chuckled, his eyes remaining glued to road, despite how much he wanted to see your reaction
♥ you let out a defeated sighed, leaning against his back, “but it’s closed.”
♥ baji nodded, “yep, that means we’ve got the whole place to ourselves!”
♥ before you could question what baji meant by that, he steered off the edge of the road and down the steep hillside which led to the beach, though it definitely was not meant to be drove on as there were several warning sign at the side of the road, warning drivers about the hill
♥ “baji, what the fuck?!” you screamed over baji’s amused laughter, similar to the way you’d laugh if you were playing GTA, rather than playing with actual human lives
♥ “isn’t this fun?” he yelled back, enjoying how the wind felt against his skin as he maneuvered his bike down the steep hill 
♥ honestly, you weren’t sure whether you enjoyed it or not, but as soon as the bike came to a smooth landing upon the soft sand of the beach, you found yourself silently wanting to do that again
♥ “well, how was that?” baji asked, immediately hopping off the bike on his own only so he could offer you a hand
♥ accepting his hand, you stepped off the cycle only to notice that your legs were shaking, yet you oddly liked it, “that was.. okay.” you murmured, not wanting to feed his ego but also unable to lie to him.
♥ “great.” he uttered, leaning forward to carefully unclip your helmet for you and sling it over the handle of his bike
♥ “so,” he started, looking around the beach for any stray cops or surveyors, “what do you wanna do?” 
♥ he felt a light tug on his jacket sleeve, causing him to look down and meet your pleading gaze, “do you think we could go out again? some other time, maybe?”
♥ all baji did was laugh, resulting in you become sheepish for a moment, until he wrapped his arms around you picked you up for a hug, “obviously!”
♥ you smiled, your cheeks heating up slightly, “nice!”
♥ “anyway,” he started, placing you back down and dashing off towards the sea, “loser owes me lunch!”
♥ ignoring how he gets lunch either way, you immediately sprinted off behind him, watching as he dramatically fell over a large shell and face-planted into the the sand
♥ being the kind friend you are, you ignored him and continued running towards the water, only for him to grab your ankle and trip you up too
♥ “ha!” that is how he shows affection <3
391 notes · View notes
fruitcoops · 3 years
Note
Hi, I love your blog so much! I recently got ankle lateral ligament reconstruction done, and as an athlete, it sucks so bad. I watched my basketball team play yesterday, and it felt really horrible to watch them lose by one point in overtime when I know I would have made a difference if I were on the court... I know you have lots of asks and prompts, but if you have the time and want to, could you possibly hurt me more than I’m already hurting with some angsty ankle injury stuff😩 like maybe Cap watching the Lions lose without him.
Thank you for all the awesome fics you write! Your blog is amazing!
Anon, this ask really struck a chord with me and I wanted to do it justice as best I could--going through a sports injury like that is the worst feeling in the world, and watching your teammates play without you just adds salt to the wound. Sending all the love and healing vibes your way, okay? Please keep me updated on how you're feeling if you feel comfortable <3
Combined with an ask for pre-Coops and Sirius' photo of Remus! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove
TW for canonical injury and mentioned scars (Remus)
Sirius felt a nudge at his arm and his irritation flared, but he did not take his eyes off the game. “Fucking hell,” he muttered as James missed yet another blatant pass. There’s three.
The next nudge was more insistent.
“What?” he snapped, sparing half a glance to his left and feeling his stomach swoop.
Remus raised his eyebrows and held the mouthguard out further. “Either put this in or unclench your jaw.”
You’re not my mother, Sirius almost snarked back, just to be even more of an asshole. He was cold from being at the rink without his gear, severely pissed off by the general bullshit happening on the ice, and the itch in the boot locked around his stupid fucked-up ankle was slowly driving him mad.
Remus offered the mouthguard again, and Sirius’ temper cooled by a few degrees at the soft encouragement on his face. Pretty, his brain supplied. He swallowed hard around his sudden dry mouth and shoved the plastic between his teeth, beating back the unruly emotions with a mental baseball bat. Nope. Not tonight. Focus on being angry.
Logan got distracted, and Finn paid the price as an enforcer slammed him against the boards; he bounced back immediately, but Sirius ground the mouthguard so hard it squeaked. “Tabarnak—”
“Come with me for a sec,” Remus said, raising his voice just enough to be heard over the angry shouts of Lions fans.
Sirius shook his head. What he wouldn’t give to be in the heart of the fight, letting off some of the steam that had been building with no outlet for weeks. “Game’s not over.”
Remus pressed his lips together, but said nothing; Sirius’ throat constricted as he looked at the scoreboard. There may have been three full minutes left on the clock, but the Lions had already lost—unless they pulled a miracle out of their asses, this game would be a stain on their record. Or if they just let me play.
Sirius sighed through his nose. The urge had been growing stronger the longer he stayed cooped up and restless, banging at the walls of his brain and bringing headache after headache.
“Cap.” The hand on the back of his bicep was surprisingly gentle and he closed his eyes as Remus gave him a light tug. “Come on. We can at least be productive instead of sitting here and stewing.”
He smells nice. How does he always smell so nice? Sirius stood and followed Remus down the tunnel, not even bothering to force smiles for the people pounding on the glass partitions. Don’t focus on the game.
Focus on his shoulders, something close to his heart suggested. You like his shoulders.
He scrunched his nose up at the thought—if he dwelled on the smooth, strong curve of Remus’ upper back for any longer, he would start remembering the one time he saw them bare, covered in sweat with scars that shone like moonlight and—
“Are you okay?” Remus asked, snapping him back to reality. Sirius jumped and concern flickered over the golden planes of his face. “You’re twitchy tonight.”
“Just…” He made a vague, aborted motion toward the ice before continuing toward the PT room, though he did not miss the worried look Remus shot him. Fantastic, now I look like a dick and an idiot.
“What’s going on, Sirius?” The door clicked closed behind them and Remus leaned against it with his arms crossed loosely as Sirius limped over to the table and sat down, pulling the mouthguard out. He stared at the floor and the hunk of plastic—don’t think about how nice his voice sounds around your name. Don’t.
He shook his head; through the door, the sounds of the game were faint. “They’re better than this.”
“Yep.”
“They’re all going to be angry tomorrow, which makes them sloppy.”
“Probably.”
“Coach will be upset.”
“No question.”
“It’s the Badgers.”
Remus made a face. “I know, right?”
“They’re a good team, but—” He tightened his jaw again and looked away.
“But we’re better,” Remus finished for him.
“Yeah.” Silence fell between them for a few moments, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. Being quiet around Remus was never uncomfortable, and Sirius was pathetically grateful for every scrap of it he could get. “I—the game would be different if I was out there.”
“Would it?”
“It would.” He had been going over every mistake for two and a half hours, placing himself in like a chess piece to stop the missed passes, fumbled pucks, and thoughtless plays. “They need me with them.”
The paper crinkled as Remus sat down next to him, and every one of Sirius’ senses went on high alert. “They need to you get better,” he said simply, those caramel-apple eyes making Sirius’ knees go weak. “Have you been doing your exercises?”
“Of course,” he scoffed.
“Good.” There was no defensiveness or indignation in Remus’ voice—guilt snapped, a firecracker behind his teeth.
“Sorry.”
Remus smiled wryly. “When you’re around injured hockey players all day long, you get used to a little bit of bitchiness.”
“I’m not bitchy!” Sirius spluttered. The poorly-concealed amusement on Remus’ face made mortification heat his cheeks. “I’m not!”
“Uh-huh.” The note of smug disbelief should not have been as attractive as it was. “Alright, lay down.”
Sirius swore he heard a few crackling noises as his brain short-circuited. “Quoi?”
“I’m not kneeling on freezing linoleum to check out your ankle, Cinderella,” Remus snorted. “Now get a wiggle on.”
“You have the strangest sayings,” he said as he laid back and stretched his leg out, bewildered and yet somehow relieved.
“And you—” Remus pulled the top buckle free. “—have no appreciation for the great American north.”
“I can take it off,” Sirius mumbled, feeling redness rise once again.
He cocked an eyebrow. “The boot? I might not be a muscle-bound athlete, but I’m pretty sure I can manage a couple strips of Velcro.”
“No, it’s—doesn’t touching people’s feet freak you out? Like, the sweat and everything?”
“If it did, I’d have to find another profession, because I’m damp all the time from you fuckers and you all seem to have a habit of breaking things below the knee. Bend.”
Sirius complied, drawing his knee toward his chest. His bare foot looked weird in the bright lights, pale and still swollen, but Remus was as golden as ever. You can watch from afar, he conceded when the cute little furrow appeared on Remus’ forehead while he felt around the bone. Just for a little while. “Your hands are warm,” he said before he could stop himself.
Remus glanced up, and his small smile caused a flood of butterflies in Sirius’ stomach. “Thanks. They’re usually pretty cold, so I’m glad I’m not accidentally giving you foot hypothermia.”
“Is that real?”
“No,” Remus laughed. Sirius wished he could keep that sound forever. “How’s that feel?”
“Uh, fine.” He blinked a couple times to come back to himself as Remus put light pressure on the sole of his foot. “Still fine.”
“You’re a lot more flexible than before. Things are healing well.”
A loud buzzer went off outside—Sirius closed his eyes as disappointment and frustration fired up once more. The crowd wasn’t cheering. The windows weren’t shaking. He didn’t even want to look at the TV to check the score. I should be out there, he thought for the umpteenth time. I’m letting them down.
“I’m sorry,” Remus said quietly as he worked through a few more exercises.
“Not your fault.”
“It’s not yours, either.”
Sirius wanted to believe him. “I’m the captain.”
“And you’re being responsible by doing this with me so you can heal faster.” People rushed past the door outside, but the PT room remained peaceful. Sirius stared at the plain ceiling and wished for a miracle. “They miss you.”
“Y’know, that’s not exactly making me feel better.”
“Sorry.” They lapsed back into silence. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Cool.”
Sirius chewed the inside of his lip for a solid two minutes, following Remus’ simple instructions without looking at him. He should have been out there with them, ankle be damned. It was basically healed anyway; they were just tying up loose ends, and maybe Remus needed to be a little less careful. “Is this really necessary?”
“I’m gonna give you five seconds to ask a different question.”
“I’m just saying, it feels fine and—”
“Time’s up.” Remus let go of his foot and Sirius only spared a moment to mourn the loss of his comforting touch before he caught the stormy, mulish stubbornness that took the place of Remus’ concentration. “Sit.”
“I am.”
He narrowed his eyes, and Sirius dragged himself upright with a huff. Arguing with Remus Lupin was about as useful as arguing with a brick wall, and that was coming from someone who won the ‘Most Stubborn’ superlative at their last end-of-year party. “First of all, ankles are annoying and the soft tissue will still be damaged even if the bone is healed. Second, it’s my job to fix you up so your boys stop whining to me about healing you faster. And third, I’m not giving up on you.”
Sirius paused for a long moment. “What?”
“I’m not giving up,” Remus repeated. His jaw set and he made direct eye contact. “I would love nothing more than to kick Snape in the kneecaps and let you go out there as soon as you can stand on your own, but that’s not what I’m here for. I’m here to make sure you’re ready to kick ass and take names no matter what that little shit was trying to do. So don’t you dare sit there and try to chicken out at the finish line, because I know you want this even more than I do.”
In his chest, Sirius heart was hammering like he had just run five miles. I’m not giving up on you. Sirius had never wanted to kiss him more. “Thank you.”
Remus softened with a slow breath. “We’re in this together, Sirius. You and me.”
“I know.”
“Then let’s get to work. Next time you play the Badgers, make ‘em regret this game.”
--------------------------------
Sirius walked back toward the locker room feeling rather nauseous. The whole team leaked their bad moods into the air—Arthur had barely looked at them before sending them home with a quiet “we’ll talk more tomorrow”, the equivalent of an arrow through Sirius’ heart. I need a pick-me-up, he thought as the rest of the guys trooped out in a melancholy raincloud. He fist-bumped each of them, per tradition, but their responses were weak at best.
Ice cream sounded good. Maybe a milkshake. Oh, who was he kidding, he needed a solid hug and something other than ice to look at. Not for the first time, he contemplated getting a dog, just so the house wouldn’t be empty and dark when he returned.
Laughter rang out ahead and Sirius inhaled sharply, letting the sound roll over him. “I’m not kidding!” Moody chuckled.
“Bullshit,” Remus countered, still snickering. “There is no way—”
“I’ve been around here longer than you’ve been alive, kid.”
“Yes, yes, I know,” Remus groaned, though Sirius could hear the smile in his voice even from around the corner. “You only bring it up every goddamn day.”
“Brat.”
Sirius entered the room just in time to see Remus playfully knock the side of his foot against Moody’s; both were grinning. “Isn’t it past your bedtime, old man?”
Moody nodded to him. “Night, twelve.”
“A demain,” Sirius called, offering a slight smile as his eyes lingered on Remus. He was leaning back against the wall with stick tape in his hands—his hands, which never failed to make Sirius throw caution to the wind—and raised it in farewell. “See you, Loops. Thanks again.”
“No problem, Cap.”
He grabbed his duffel off the floor and slid his keys, wallet, and phone into his pockets as Moody and Remus resumed their conversation. He wondered how long they usually stuck around, and if they would oppose him staying—he wouldn’t interrupt, but being around people who weren’t going through the five stages of grief already felt nice.
An idea struck as Remus’ laugh raised goosebumps on his arms once again. With a careful glance over his shoulder, he slipped his phone out and snapped a picture before hurrying off toward his car. His breaths were shallow; that was such a creepy move, and surely one of them noticed—
No voices chased him. Nobody gave him strange looks. He waited until he was safely in the front seat of the car before unlocking his phone, and all the air in his lungs left in a rush.
The photo was perfect. It caught the lopsided tilt to Remus’ mouth, his slender-but-strong fingers, his long legs, the scrunch of his nose mid-laugh. Everything Sirius never let himself look at for long. He didn’t have much space left among the collection of paper memories on his dresser, but maybe if he put it in the back where nobody would see it unless they knew where to look…
He turned the car on. Later. He would print it out and deal with the taut rubber-band-ball of feelings later. Until then, he could settle for the imprint of Remus’ warmth taking away the pain in his ankle and the determination on his face as he promised to bring Sirius back from the personal hell he was living in. You and me, he had said, and Sirius wanted nothing more than to believe it.
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h34rtizuku · 3 years
Text
𝔭𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔶
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i hate angst without happy endings, but i’m also self-destructive. therapy is expensive, but ripping your own heart out and bearing your insecurities into a full-fledged story for you and others to read? free.
warnings : angst without a happy ending, insecurities, jealousy, mayhaps toxic behavior?? idk if ur looking for a good time, this isn’t for you bestie <3 also i might misspell uraraka’s name wrong a few times, i’ll fix them later :*
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being quirkless had its advantages. with such a small number of us being born without powers, it left a lot of the mundane jobs open.
which is why, as soon as pro-hero deku opened his agency, i came to him with the request to be his assistant.
on the daily, he had people coming up to him asking for internships or to be his sidekick. but he never had anyone ask to be his assistant.
being the number one hero often meant that every day things, things one may take for granted or deem insignificant became just another list of things on the busy man’s to-do list.
therefore the appeal of having someone file his paper work and run to get him coffee in the morning was great enough to hire me.
and i was glad he did.
this is what i have been working for since i was a first year in high school. after watching the freckled boy break limb after limb to defeat his opponent.
yeah, i saw it as irresponsible and stupid that he had to break his own body to save others. but i was willing to overlook it.
my one goal during my remaining years of high school and up to college was that wherever that little green haired boy went, i would follow.
and that reigned true as his assistant. i would shuffle after him like a duckling following it’s mother, wherever he needed me.
if he needed me in a briefing to take notes for him, i was there. if he needed me to put in overtime to help him file the last minute paperwork, i was there. if he wanted a particular pastry from a specific bakery half way across town, i was there.
izuku was never mean, or demanding. always thanking me profusely for anything i ever did for him. leaving me to remind him that this was my job, and any way to make his life easier was good enough for me.
but maybe i should have held onto those blushed cheeks and crinkled eyes as he thanked me for the coffee that he didn’t even know he needed, for a just a little bit longer.
you know how a child will open a new toy on christmas and it quickly becomes their new favorite toy? playing with it non-stop, taking it wherever they go. until one day, they grow bored of it and never touch it again as it grows dusty at the bottom of their toy bin.
i know izuku wasn’t doing it on purpose, he didn’t have an intentionally mean bone in his body. i guess you could say, some other toys came around and took his attention away.
and that toy, was a particularly difficult mission in collaboration with uravity’s agency.
the two spent long hours cooped in his office as they went over notes, plans, intel, etc. until the conversation melted into talk about the old days and the wonderful memories they had together in high school.
i went to work the following days with absolutely no energy to handle whatever would be thrown at me. i hadn’t been able to get much sleep, as when i closed my eyes the only thing i could see was the look in his eyes when he saw her.
my patience was already thin given the events of the most recent week, but when the printer started malfunctioning leaving me unable to fax the papers izuku wanted me send, you could say that was the first domino.
i swatted and kicked and pressed any button on the stupid machine. telling myself i was merely trying to get to stupid thing to work, but deep down i knew that the printer was just my temporary punching bag. an outlet to unleash my anger and emotions onto something instead of letting them fester inside me.
so when one of izuku’s sidekicks came by, giving a snarky comment about my behavior, i was able to brush it off with a roll of my eyes and an equally snippy comment back.
but as the hunk of plastic remained steady in its plan to ruin my day, the lack of sleep and lingering resentment started to bubble within me once more.
i heard footsteps behind me and a joking voice say, “having a bit of trouble are we?”
if it weren’t for the white hot anger buzzing in my ears i may have been able to identify the voice before i lashed out on them. but we already established this was not my day.
so as my hands moved to clutch the machine below me, most likely to restrain my abuse to merely verbal instead of physical. i spit out, “listen i’m fucking trying okay? so how about you get off my ass and do something useful.”
i turned around to face who i thought would be another sidekick sent to push my buttons. but i instead came face-to-face with the green haired man himself.
eyes blown wide, mouth agape in shock, a light blush dusted under his freckles as he fought to handle the situation the best way he could.
but i beat him to it with a deep bow and an endless flow of apologies, opting to only blame my anger on the malfunctioning piece of junk behind me and not the several other reasons i was plotting murder in my head.
with a gentle smile and a soft chuckle he placed his hand to the back of his head, rubbing at the baby jade hairs of his undercut. “i see. bad days happen to the best of us.” he replied, his voice like honey.
i became drunk on the minor interaction he was giving me, bringing me back to the beginning days at this job where we would spend late nights trying to keep each other awake under the only singular yellow light as we finished paperwork. or where sometimes he’d invite me to spend lunch with him as he felt he’d enjoy the company.
i got lost in the intricacies of his face as he tampered with the printer. thin eyebrows furrowed in concentration, bottom lip captured between his thick scarred fingers as he muttered to himself.
i fell in a trance, locked on the slope of his button nose, his gemstone eyes, and chubby caramel cheeks dusted in freckles.
he looked essentially like the same boy i saw on the screen all those years ago, yet matured and hardened by the realities of life.
i wanted nothing more than to reach out and protect him any way my small quirkless body could. to be there for him the same way he was for everyone else.
he eventually got the printer to work with a boyish smile on his face as he told me that despite the good roughing up i gave the machine, he was able to locate and handle the issue. “next time, skip the punching and come find me, yeah? i’ll help with any problems you face.” he joked as he made his way into his office to resume his work.
i didn’t know it was possible to fall harder for that man, but he proved with every day of his existence that the impossible didn’t apply to him.
i was finally able to get some sleep the next few nights as my eyelids filled with the blush on his cheekbones and his gaze of concentration.
but my trip to cloud 9 didn’t last very long as the occasional meeting with uraraka became trips to her agency, and occasional meetings in civilian clothes to civilian places, like coffee shops and corner stores.
to anyone else, those would read as dates. to me, they read as dates. but izuku assured the gossiping sidekicks that it was strictly professional ~ nothing more, nothing less.
i knew that i would end up with more fits of restlessness and sleepless nights as i pictured the two of them laughing over a cup of coffee. so i sought out a replacement.
a moment. a look. a sentence.
anything directed at me that would choke out the ugly thoughts and images my brain would show me of the two of them together.
so that afternoon as i brought him his lunch, i placed the box safely onto the table beside him as he continued skimming through the papers littered across the desk.
he muttered a small ‘thank you’ but it wasn’t enough. as my hand moved to place his drink that i held in my other hand next to his food, a different idea popped in my head.
my hand moved faster than my brain could register what it had just planned to do. squeezing just enough for the lid to pop off and slip from my fingers to tumble into his lap.
as soon as the liquid and ice hit his lap he flew up from his seat and away from his desk.
my hands flew up to my mouth as a string of apologies fell from my lips. eyes watering in guilt as they moved around the room trying to locate something to soak up the mess with.
“i am so sorry, my fingers slipped and before i knew it i had lost control of the cup. i-i can’t tell you how sorry i am.” i rambled as i took my blazer off to wipe at the wet stains starting to form at the bottom of his teal suit.
“hey, hey, hey.” he said softly, taking my tinier hands into his large and battered ones. warmth enveloped my clutched sticky hands as he gently urged me to stand from my crouching position in front of him.
“it was an accident. no harm, no foul.” he said with a soft smile.
i should feel bad, as it wasn’t entirely an accident. but the warm and gentle look in his eyes made what little guilt i felt crumble away.
his thumbs rubbing soft circles to my skin as he worked to get the tears to stop streaming from my eyes was enough to get me to sleep like a baby for a good 2 weeks.
until it became a cycle. he would spend too much time around uraraka, and then i would do something all in the name of garnering his attention back on me.
was it wrong of me to do, to take advantage of his kindness? to take advantage of the fact that he was naive to my true intentions? maybe.
but i felt i deserved it. i felt i deserved to be looked at the same way he looked at her.
i wasn’t any different than she was. with the way she used her big brown eyes to pull him in. or the way her cute behavior made him blush. or the way her sweet way of talking made him laugh.
i can’t be her, or compare to her. so i found my own way around it. and no one could fault me for doing so. they just couldn’t.
at the end of the mission, uravity decided to throw a party in celebration of their win. a nice formal gathering, with everyone she had involved.
when izuku pulled me aside one late night to tell me that he was extending the invitation to me felt akin to a marriage proposal.
i wasn’t involved much in the case, merely being used as the one who provided them their lunch on their long meeting days. or filing and organizing the paperwork and notes that they would compile. i wasn’t out in the field, breaking bones like izuku or saving lives like uraraka.
i didn’t deserve to go, but i didn’t care. izuku had invited me personally and damn it, i was gonna be there.
yet, i shouldn’t have gone.
i shouldn’t have spent the hours on my makeup. i shouldn’t have enlisted the help of my best friend to do my hair as i gushed about how izuku had personally invited me, how he was the most perfect man ever, and how i was undoubtedly in love with him.
i shouldn’t have spent the week leading up to the event going from shop to shop trying to find the prettiest dress that was just the exact color of his eyes. i shouldn’t have spent about half my paycheck on said dress when i found it.
i shouldn’t have decided to face my fears and step out of my comfort zone to join a group of heroes that i knew were old classmates of izuku’s as they whispered about something that clearly was a raving topic.
because then i wouldn’t have heard how izuku was planning on confessing to uraraka. i wouldn’t have heard how this mission caused old high school feelings to rekindle. i should have known my place.
and that was far away from here, from the hero scene. i should have grown up to be an accountant or a chef.
when my father took me to get that checkup when i was 5, to confirm that there truly resides no quirk inside me.
i should have left it at that.
when i was riding my bike that day as a first year and i saw the group of boys huddled around a screen as they tuned into the u-a sports festival, i should have kept riding.
as maybe it would have saved me a lot of pain.
i backed away slowly, heels tapping against the tile floor as i hurried out of the building.
i didn’t realize how suffocated i felt until the chilly autumn hair brushed my face and into my lungs.
my whole body felt hot, i felt numb. i stumbled onto the sidewalk as i looked into the dark azure sky glittered with stars.
the tears finally spilled from my eyes as the stars muddled together into a messy blur. my stomach swirled and tensed as pit of nausea sunk in my stomach.
my chest heaved as it tried to process the crisp cold air into oxygen, but my throat was too tight to let much in.
i gasped and sobbed as my back hit the brick behind me, my legs wobbling unable to carry my weight much longer.
i slid into a crouched position as my tears mixed with the black of my mascara. streaming in pools down my cheeks, neck, and chest.
in the midst of my sobbing and heaving, i called my friend who was still at my apartment awaiting details of that night when i came home.
knowing it was far too early for me to be calling her she picked up the phone with confusion. it didn’t take much words from me, not like i gave her much, to convince her that she needed to come pick me up.
as she hung up the phone, my hand slipped from my ear, falling limp to my side as i placed my head into my other arm resting atop my knees.
this was inevitable and i knew it. no matter how many ways i was able to manipulate a sweet glance from him, it didn’t mean anything.
izuku was nice to everybody. sweet to everyone. kind to anyone.
but with her, it was different. he treated her that way, not because he had to, but because he wanted to.
they had years of memories, of laughs. they were perfect for each other, both smart, and kind, and always looking to help others. never acting selfishly or for personal gain.
they shared soft touches like they did old stories. they looked at each other with the same respect and admiration.
i was wrong. uraraka and i are nothing alike. she didn’t have to beg izuku to look at her like she hung the moon, he did so without asking.
unbeknownst to me, as i was manipulating izuku into these fabricated moments of gentle gazes and kind words, i was manipulating myself.
lying to the deepest parts of me that knew that this wasn’t real. that i wasn’t her. that he didn’t think of us the same way.
to him, uraraka is an old friend, who views the world the same way he does, who shares his same passions, who built her quirk to do some good within this world.
to him, i was a coffee-getter, the girl who knew his lunch orders like the back of her hand, the girl who filed his papers. the quirkless little fangirl who practically begged him to give her a job under him.
i heard the metal door open and snap shut announcing that someone was now outside with me. however, i just assumed it was a party-goer stepping outside for a smoke or a phone call so i didn’t bother to look up.
i also wasn’t in the mood for if the person happened to be a drunk girl who was ready to become my therapist as she saw me crouched on the sidewalk wishing to become one with the cement and simply cease to exist.
“there you are, i was wondering where you went?”
i would have taken the amateur therapist over this.
the voice belonged to izuku, dripping with sugar and default kindness.
if i could become one with the bricks just a little bit faster that would be great.
“hey, are you alright?” his tone became worried but i still didn’t dare to look up from my arms.
“do you feel sick? did something happen? do i need to take you home?” there he goes, into hero mode. ready to drop anything to help anyone facing the slightest of inconveniences.
“please just leave me alone.” i mumbled, throat tight and voice wavering as i try to hold the tears that still remain to fall.
“what did you say? i didn’t quite hear you.” he said softly, gently setting his large hands onto my exposed shoulder.
they should feel like welcoming warmth, but instead they felt blistering hot as i shoved them away as quickly as i could.
“i said leave me alone.” i said, slightly louder as i no longer was stuffed in my arms and knees.
he immediately saw the mess my face was in, i could tell by the way he quickly reverted fully into deku.
“hey, what’s wrong? whatever it is, i can help. didn’t i say you could come to me whenever you ne-“
“oh my god just stop! i can’t take it anymore.” i snapped, finally able to look him in the face.
but not for long as i saw the same look on his complexion as the first time i snapped at him.
“you’re too fucking nice. leaving you vulnerable for people to take advantage of you. giving them a reason to be selfish.”
“i dont-“ he tried to start but i cut him off.
“i don’t need a hero, izuku. there are people you just can’t save.”
as he worked to wrap his head around what was happening, my friend pulled up in my getaway car.
i bent down and grabbed my purse, but before i could fully escape this night, izuku grabbed my wrist causing me to stare into his eyes.
now lit aflame with desperation, “please just tell me what’s wrong. let me help you.” he encouraged softly.
but i wasn’t going to fall for it, not again.
i wasn’t gonna be played for the fool as i took the soft look in his eyes for anything but the gaze of a hero hoping to add another save to their statistics.
“god you never know when to quit!” i yelled as i yanked my wrist back. “and i hate that i-“
loved that about you?
no, love that about you.
i shook my head, thankful that for once my brain caught my actions before i spilled and made a mess again.
i walked quickly to the car, opening the passenger door almost as fast in hopes that within its metal sanctuary i could finally escape this hell.
“y/n- i-“
“mr. midoriya.” i just about whispered, my energy long since drained.
he laughed gently and i cursed the way my heart squeezed a little at the sound.
still head over heels for the angelic sound.
“you haven’t called me that in a long-“
“i quit.”
“w-what?” he muttered in disbelief.
i wouldn’t believe it either, not after the way i came to him nearly 4 years ago saying i would even be willing to clean toilets if he asked me to, so long as i got to work for him.
“i quit.” i repeated.
“you don’t mean that.”
he’s right i didn’t, not really.
hot tears started to dribble as my lower lip puckered in a sour quiver.
“no i do, sir.” i shook. “i will send someone to collect my things on monday.”
and with that i closed the door.
“drive.” i whispered to my friend who after a moment of looking at me, trying to read me, silently put the car into drive and started forward.
leaving izuku behind to stumble after the car, mouth muttering, trying to form any sort of sentence or sense.
but i couldn’t see him, knowing not to look at the mirrors situated on the side of the vehicle.
for they too are liars, as objects in the mirror are farther than they appear.
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*** my little blue bitch working overtime
🧼 also mayhaps “soap” by melanie martinez fits this story… unintentionally ~ but if i’m wrong it’s cuz i haven’t listened to it in a while
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horunicorn · 3 years
Text
Oya Oya
Hewwo :3 I have written much smut but this is my first time making it public. Sorry it came out so long. Feel free to point out any mistakes.
Warnings: choking, dominance
The fusuma slammed shut behind you, rattling the shōji across the room, after he'd pushed you rather roughly into his room at the Shinsengumi dorm. You were honestly surprised the kumiko didn't fall apart.
"What the hell, Y/N?"
You curled your lip up at him defiantly. "What?"
"Don't 'what' me," he warned, pacing to and fro in front of the door, clearly agitated. Then again, the man did have a short fuse. "Who gave you permission to hang with the Yorozuya bastard? Is that what you do behind my back?"
His accusation flipped your entire mood over. You were cheeky before; now you were pissed. What right did he have to point fingers at you? After all, he was the one who pushed you to do it. For three weeks, you had been patient while he worked. Of course, since he lived where he worked, it seemed like he was never free, always balancing his vice commander duties in and out of the headquarters. He did ask for your permission before going on cases, to make sure that you were okay with him doing overtime on certain days. And you always assured him that you would wait for him, no matter how busy some days could get. You always told him that it was okay to put his job first when he needed to. But that didn't mean he could take advantage of your understanding, did it?
The guy was smarter than most; he picked up on hints and cues effortlessly, especially if they were from you. So why had he been so oblivious to your subtle advances these past weeks?
"Who are you to tell me who I can or cannot be friends with?" you snapped back, temper flaring.
"You know very well who I am and what I can and cannot do," he answered, a little condescendingly.
"Yeah, well, you should also know that Gin-san gives me way more attention than you do," you uttered rashly. It was how you felt on the inside. After so many days of neglect by Hijikata, Gintoki's friendly affection towards you had you hooked in like fish to bait. Every smile and head smack he gave you fed your growing hunger for a man you couldn't get to and yet you still went on with it. You hung around Gintoki, longing for Hijikata, for something physical, just to take away the ache of missing the vice commander.
"What did you say?" Hijikata's tight voice betrayed the anger that was sparking inside him. The thought of you just being in Gintoki's presence was enough to provoke him. Confirmation that you let him touch you - nevermind if it was just playful shoves or shoulder bumping - flooded his vision with red. "You let him touch you?"
You scoffed at his ridiculous jealousy. "I'm not a slut. All Gin-san did was listen to me when I was alone. He kept me company."
True, you worked eight hours a day but the tiredness didn't mean that you didn't want to talk late into the night.
"Company, huh?" Hijikata crossed the room to stand in front of you so fast that you had to double check the spot he was previously at, just to be sure. He was a head taller than you. Now that he was all riled up, his presence was intimidating, especially since you had to look up to meet his eyes. "It just had to be him?"
You knew better. If you let him go on, you would have angry make up sex in seconds. This was a matter that needed talking through, not blind fucking. You pushed him away harshly, much to his surprise.
"We're not in a movie, Hijikata." Ah, using his family name when you were alone was never a good sign. "You can't just fuck me and be done with it."
A thought crossed your mind. Maybe it wasn't that he was busy. Maybe it was you who had done things wrongly. If you hadn't dropped all those stupid hints and just came straight forward with your needs, you needn't have had to feel the pain of ignorance from him. Your low self-esteem came racing back to you.
It was my fault. I didn't talk to him.
"I'm sorry," you choked out, turning away from him. Your sudden change in demeanor startled him but it wasn't something he hadn't experienced before.
Just like that, his anger melted away. He stepped towards you, pulling your reluctant form into his arms.
"You shouldn't have to apologize for anything," Hijikata sighed, one hand carefully cupping the back of your head. When his temper wasn't in the way, he saw things much clearer. "It was wrong of me to accuse you like that, especially since I know how much I've been neglecting you. I just didn't like the fact that of all the people to go to attention for, it was him." Hijikata said him with visible distaste. You relaxed against him, calmer now that he was no longer angry, that he had assured you it was not your fault.
"But I like him," you protested.
"Could you not like anyone else?"
"You hate everyone else, except the gorilla and he's infatuated with Otae-chan."
"Are you saying you'd go to Kondo-san if you could?" Hijikata teased, instantly lightening the atmosphere.
With that you ducked out of his embrace. "Please. I don't do stalkers." Hijikata was quick to catch you again though, this time from behind. He placed a gentle kiss to the shell of your ear.
"If you hadn't gotten caught today," he began, "I would have shown my appreciation for your patience in a different way."
"You have something planned?" you asked excitedly, happy that he had been thinking of you too.
"I did," he confirmed in the past tense. "But I can't get Yorozuya's stupid smug face out of my mind."
You knew all too well why. You knew that hanging out with Gintoki came with a punishment if you were caught. Before you could respond, Hijikata had a hand locked around your neck, with pressure not enough to choke but just enough that made swallowing difficult.
"Sometimes I think you let yourself get caught on purpose," he went on in a low voice, free hand travelling down your left arm and tugging it behind your back. He had you in a hold you didn't have any intention of breaking out of. Indeed, just the feeling of his hand on your throat had you weak at the knees, ready to be ruined by him.
"T - Tōshi," you managed, voice strangled by the hand on your windpipe. "Hard to... breathe."
"But you like this, don't you?" He purred. "You want to be choked like the little slut you are."
Oh, there was no denying how much his words were turning you on. Getting choked with his hand was good. Getting choked on his cock was better and you were more than eager for it.
"Choke... me with... your...cock..." Earlier misgivings forgotten, you wanted nothing more than for him to use you. It was all you had wanted since using Gintoki as a filler. His attention.
"Mm, I don't think so, baby girl," he murmured, finally releasing you from his hold only to take your hand and drag you down onto his futon. "I want to give, not take. And I expect thanks."
Translation: I will fuck you senseless and you will be vocal about it.
"Dont you think you can punish me better if - " Your question was cut short by a gasping inhale. Hijikata had somehow managed to loosen the knots of the date-jime that held your nagajuban and kimono together amidst everything and was now shamelessly pushing his fingers between your damp labia, hand disappearing in the folds of the cloth. Immediately, your hips moved up, asking for more when he'd barely begun. He murmured an amused "oya oya" upon finding the absence of underwear on you.
"I think you've been wetter than this, haven't you?" Deviously, Hijikata poked two fingers into your hole without any warning. There hadn't been much foreplay but could you really complain when you were swallowing his fingers like the greedy whore you were? He pulled his fingers out along with your arousal and spread it over your clit, rubbing in tantalizing circles, like a taunt.
"You're going to tease me," you stated, breathless already.
"Just for now," he promised, the sensitive nub slipping between his pointer finger and middle finger. Your nerve endings fired, sending thick coils of pleasure up your body. Again, your hips moved up.
Hijikata chose that moment to take his hands off of you. He sat back on his heels, hands placed perfectly on his lap. Disheveled and disgruntled, you forced your pleasure-weak body into motion, sitting up with your kimono loose around you, one side sliding down to bare a shoulder.
This was no dream: your body had flaws everywhere. Beauty marks on your skin, scars from being clumsy, skin that wasn't silky smooth or creamy white. You felt very small when you walked past some women on the streets but Hijikata always made you feel perfect. He loved every one of your imperfections, which encouraged you at times like these.
"Frustrated?" he smirked and you wondered just what he was playing at. Unbothered, you knee-walked closer, until you were parked right in front of him. Your hands grasped at the lapels of his uniform jacket. The familiar musk of cigarette smoke wafted up your nostrils, further turning you on. His gaze was hot on you; you could feel it despite not looking at him. Deliberate in your movements, you pushed the jacket off then proceeded to unbutton his vest and undo the knot of the white scarf around his neck. You were busy working on his shirt when he caught your hand, bringing it up to his mouth.
The contact of the softness of his lips against your skin made your thoughts fuzzy. His stare lingered on you and your restraint broke. You crashed your lips into his, claiming your pleasure, trying to pacify your desire for him. He indulged you, using a hand to hold your head steady. You kissed and kissed until there was no more breath to breathe between the both of you.
Hijikata pulled back first, dragging a thumb across your lower lip. It was such an intimate move, hinting at the lust he had for you; that was all it took for you to go into full 'I need you now' mode. Impatient, you shoved him back and shimmied up his body, brazenly rocking your hips, smearing your arousal onto his white shirt. Obviously, he felt your dampness through the material and gripped your hips to stop you from moving. The sight of you grinding above him was too much for his already tortured mind. Everything had to go. Now.
Soon you were balancing above him, the tip of his hard cock pressing at your slick entrance. You braced your hands on his broad chest, breath controlled as you slowly sat down on him, the length of him sliding into you inch by inch until your ass touched his lap. The sensation of him in you never failed to make you moan. His girth, his length, everything was just enough to fill up your tight hole.
"My sweet girl," Hijikata murmured, eyes half lidded. "I'd nearly forgotten how good you feel around me." He held onto your hips. "Move for me."
At his demand, you lifted yourself off and back down again, whimpering at the discomfort. Yeah, he was definitely big. Without your weekly routine, your body needed time to get used to him again. It didn't take long, though. Hijikata's soft encouragement and touch had you thirsting for more in no time. You got used to the stretch, gaining momentum and confidence as you moved. No longer did it sting; there was nothing but pleasure with the way you had him sliding in and out of you. Every time you rose left his cock slicker than before, layer upon layer of your arousal coating him.
When your legs got tired, you resorted to bouncing, biting your lip when your ass slapped against his skin in the sexiest way. Hijikata was in awe beneath you. His blue eyes were dark, lips parted in heavy breaths. First his eyes fixed on the way he was entering you, on the way your sweet pussy just swallowed his cock. His rough hands roved up your stomach, fingers dancing over your jumping breasts. That was the second thing he stared at. The soft mounds of flesh on your chest that bounced along with you made his cock twitch. Then he looked at your face. At the way you bit your lip, the pleasure in your expression. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to dominate you.
The feeling swept over him. Having you on top was incredible, especially since he knew you could control the depth and angle of his entrance. But he needed to have you his way. He couldn't yet explain why.
You cried out in surprise when he sat up abruptly, forcing you to remain still on his lap. You pressed your chest to his, feeling him move along with you, in you. The movement brought on a whole new sensation that made you scratch his chest with a low moan.
"Can he do that?" Hijikata asked, voice thick with lust. And something else. He knew now why he needed dominance over you.
"Who - What?" You couldn't register his words and the meaning behind them at first, not until he flipped you both over in a practiced move and he rolled his hips into you, hitting every unclaimed spot within you. Your legs came around his hips.
"Can that silver haired idiot do this? Make you feel this good?" He pulled back slightly, only to plunge back into you with a jolt that pushed another moan from your mouth.
"N - No. Tōshi..."
Hijikata pulled at your hips, angling your lower body upwards and began thrusting into you, going deep and hard each time. He knew very well that at this angle, each slide of his cock was sure to brush your g-spot. And each time his pelvis met yours, the head of his throbbing cock would carass the tip of your cervix, making you buck your hips even further up.
Seeing you this way only fuelled his unneeded jealousy for a rival that was hardly a threat.
"I bet he can't," he agreed gruffly. "He doesn't know your body, does he? Doesn't know how my baby girl likes it. Tell me." Hijikata drove deep, pushing his own hips up. You choked on a moan, hands tight around his wrists. "Who's making you feel good?"
You were unable to answer, eyes in danger of closing, body on the brink of orgasm. As if fucking him wasn't hot enough. No, jealous Hijikata was even better. His need to hear your verbal confirmation of just how good he could drill you was heightening the entire experience.
Hijikata wrapped a big hand around your throat, forcing you to meet his steely gaze.
"Who?" he demanded.
A lone tear rolled down your cheek and you knew once you opened your mouth, you'd be begging. "Y - You, Tōshi. You're making me feel good. Fucking my pussy so good."
He smirked in satisfaction. There was no need to hold back now. With demonic speed, probably living up to his title, Hijikata slammed into you, hips snapping back and forth furiously. He hadn't even gotten to rub your clit yet and you came undone, pulsing around his cock, sinful moans falling from your mouth along with his name.
"One more time," he urged, tempted to stop and savour the way you were contracting around him. Snug in your warm wetness. He was close. Too close to stop. He spit on your clit and rubbed it in tight circles, coaxing yet another orgasm out of you. This was too much after the first and his name left you in screams, your body spasming, legs jerking. The sight of you being ruined by him did it. A few more thrusts and he fell on top of you, hugging your trembling body close as waves of pleasure crashed over him. He bit your shoulder, hard, enjoying the feeling of his seed leaving him and filling you. The others might not be at the sleeping quarters but you doubted that your screams hadn't reached the main block.
Once you both felt calm enough to move, Hijikata carefully extracted himself from you, using his scarf to wipe off any semen that came leaking out of you. You laid your head on his clammy chest.
"I'd never cheat," you said blatantly.
Hijikata pushed a hand through your messy hair, staring up at the ceiling. "I know. I just... wish I could have been there for you. I know it's not fair, having to always put up with my work."
"You're here now." You turned your head to smile up at him and he returned it with one of his own rare ones. The kind that took your breath away and reminded you of how different he could be around you. "Won't the others be looking for you?"
"Let them," he sighed. "I've been long overdue for a day off anyway." There was a brief pause, as though he were thinking things over. "Can I take you out?"
Your heart skipped a beat, delighted that you both could finally spend quality time together. Not that mindless fucking wasn't fun but normal couple stuff had to come in somewhere.
You smoothed your hand over the skin on his chest, loving how only you were allowed to touch him this way. "Yeah, you can."
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saebyeog-i · 3 years
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soft | njm (m)
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genre | office romance au / slight humor, smut lol
rating/warnings | stream of consciousness bs / alcohol consumption / semi public sex {oral, m receiving; mentions of breathplay} / slightly unedited whoops
word count | drabble! 2.1k because I don’t know how to shut up
pairing | IT Worker!Jaemin x reader
When you start your new job, you realize pretty quickly that Jaemin from IT wears sweaters all the time in the office. Even in the summer. Even when it’s 95 degrees outside, because he gets cold easily and they always blast the AC too much indoors.
He’s a very soft and unassuming character, and he’s the youngest person on his team by at least ten years, and during your first meeting when he’s getting your work station set up in your office he tells you he just likes that he gets paid to play around with computers all day and that’s why he keeps the job.
“Couldn’t you be a software engineer or something? Make far more money and not have to answer dumb computer questions all the time?” You ask offhandedly, and then realize you’ve insinuated that he’s paid poorly. You attempt to back pedal your statement, but he’s not the least bit offended.
He chuckles, eyes crinkling and he shakes his head. “I get paid plenty well for this job, and besides, I never have any tight deadlines or work overtime. I don’t exactly dream of extra and strenuous labor.”
He wears sweaters that are two sizes too big for him, made up of bright obnoxious colors and gaudy patterns that would usually make you fake vomit at seeing them on a real life human. But he makes them look charming, somehow. Grandpa sweaters, you call them, even to his face, with patterns that just make you gag. Never a sweater vest, mind you, only ever a full pull over knit sweater, with the occasional cardigan over a long sleeve turtleneck. Over time, you see a variety of patterns and colors, and you think he must have an endless supply of them.
You’re not bad with computers by any means, but you do like to bat your eyelashes and have other people do things for you when you can. You’re admittedly a little bit lazy, not stupid, and besides, he’s much faster at fixing any issues than you are, why waste time trying to figure it out yourself?
You think it’s cute, the way he smiles with his eyes and chuckles quietly whenever he comes to your office to fulfill a help desk ticket. You like the way he smiles at you and the way he’ll compliment your outfits, how soft and unassuming his words always are, and never cringe worthy like that older man in marketing who thinks he’s being nice but is in fact just being slightly creepy. When you tell your roommate about Jaemin from IT complimenting your new dress in the kitchen as you made your morning coffee, she asks if you have a thing for him because of how often you bring him up in your stories from work.
“Oh, no, definitely not— he’s soft, but a little too soft, you know? Need me a bit of a freak, someone who wouldn’t be opposed to like, I dunno, choking me if I said I was into that,” you sigh, trying to imagine the soft and pixie-like Jaemin from IT with his hands around your neck. It doesn’t compute. “Besides, I think he puts like, eight shots of espresso in his coffee, his cum probably tastes like battery acid,” you sigh into your yogurt as your roommate crinkles her nose one morning before you both depart for work. You move on from the brief idea, and think you’ll stick to just enjoying sweet and innocent Jaemin that wears oversizes sweaters from afar instead.
On anyone else, the fashion sense would be annoying.
But not on Jaemin.
He’s soft and squishy and kind of adorable with the way he scrunches up his nose when he laughs, and the endearing way he explains to the older company employees how to run the Microsoft Office automatic software updates to get the latest version of Excel and PowerPoint. He does his best to teach them how to do it on their own to give them a sense of accomplishment and understanding of the technology they rely on but seem to have no hope at operating beyond the basic level needed for their jobs (but still doing it for them anyways, with patience and a smile and never a complaint).
It’s an attractive quality, you have to admit, and if he wasn’t the walking embodiment of marshmallow fluff you’d think more about him. But he is, so you don’t, and instead sigh out loud as you watch him huff and blow the fluffy bangs out of his eyes as he’s crouched under your desk, re-running the wires for your office phone.
You’ve always had a bad habit of mumbling your thoughts out loud when you’re distracted, and sometimes he’ll catch you cursing out the equipment or your supervisors for not knowing the difference between something you’d deem as basic for your department or field. He finds it charming, thinks it makes you more candid and honest and it’s a different side of you than the one who bats her eyelashes and files help desk tickets when she could easily do something herself. You’re taken aback by this comment, because you didn’t count him for someone that would keep track of something like that, which you admit to him in slight disbelief.
“Oh believe me, I’m more observant than you think I am,” he chimes mysteriously as his fingers glide across your keyboard, entering his admin password to run another round of program installations and software upgrades.
You don’t think much of it when he’s the only person who fulfills your tickets for six months straight.
Not until the holiday party, anyways.
At the holiday party, it’s an open bar and everyone is dressed UP up. You expect to see Jaemin in another grandpa print sweater two sizes too big for him— that is, if the soft boy shows at all. Company holiday parties like this don’t scream ‘Jaemin from IT’ at you, given that from what your more seasoned coworkers have told you about years past, after tonight you can expect at least one person to end up suspended or fired for behavior; that and the Company President gives everyone an Uber code for a free ride home since they already know how absolutely wasted everyone plans on getting.
To your surprise, Jaemin from IT does in fact show up at the holiday party. You spot him as soon as he enters, about an hour into the party itself, and he slips into the crowd and makes his way to the bar. You were expecting a tacky Christmas sweater on him, but instead, he’s dressed in the exact opposite.
Instead, he’s got his hair styled up (a first, and you never realized how badly you wanted to see his forehead before) and instead of a gaudy array of colors and patterns, he’s wearing a nicely tailored suit in a rich wine color with a black button down underneath.
When he waves from across the room and approaches you just to be friendly and say hi, you’re definitely caught off guard enough that you don’t realize you’ve mumbled out “How is that fair? How can he look like THAT outside of a sweater and then not let me just suck his dick right here?”
Jaemin blinks for a moment, taken by surprise, when he realizes it’s that same candid habit of yours and you haven’t realized you’ve said it out loud. His mouth curls into a smile and he presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek and gets nice and close, close enough to flirtatiously whisper “Well if you insist, though I’m sure we could find somewhere a bit more... private.”
And then you’re so caught off guard by confident sexy suit wearing Jaemin you think he’s read your mind for until you realize what you said out loud. But he’s into the idea given the fact that he doesn’t run in fear from your words and fuck it, so are you, and he’s not just cute and squishy anymore he’s fucking hot in that suit and with his dark hair styled just so, so you feel flirty and courageous when you say “You know I think I like the suit over the grandpa sweaters, but I think I’d like the suit even better on the floor.”
After the way his mouth ticks upward in a smile, the movements are all a blur that you can’t quite separate out into discrete events: downing you drink, linking hands with him, scurrying off towards the single occupancy restroom furthest from the dance floor and bolting the lock so you can be sure as shit that when your lips crash against his and then your knees hit the floor there will be no interruptions.
“Funny,” you say, trailing kisses down his throat after a moment, “Never thought I’d see you as anything but soft.” The admittance and double entendre are entirely intentional and you know that he knows.
“Seems like now’s a good as time as any to pay back all those superfluous ticket requests,” he breaths out, and your lips curl into a grin as your fingers find their way to his belt and tug his dress pants down.
“If you insist,” you tease back his words from earlier, sinking to your knees all too happily.
You take him into your mouth easily, relishing in the groans and shaky exhales that comes from his perfect lips as his fingers thread through your hair and his grip tightens. A fire deep in your belly ignites at the noises, enjoying how easily you can make the man you thought so soft and unassuming fall apart at just a run of your tongue and a hollowing of your cheeks.
“Fucking shit don’t do that unless—”
He’s cut off by his own groan as you run your tongue along his slit once before taking him as afar back in your throat as you can manage, then he’s cumming in your mouth with a high pitched shaky whine.
When he’s finished, you make an obscene show of his cum in your mouth for him and curl your tongue back as you swallow, wiping away the excess saliva with the heel of your palm. “Pay back enough?” You ask surreptitiously as you rise back to your feet, dusting off the skirt of your cocktail dress.
Jaemin from IT digs his fingers into your hips and pulls you close to him, a growl deep in the back of his throat before his lips clash against yours, “All that and then some.”
His fingers link with yours after as he hurriedly drags you from the bathroom to the exit of the venue, waving haphazardly at his team members before launching the ride share app and tapping in the provided code for that free ride. “I meant it when I said your wardrobe is both flattering and professional,” he hums, “But out of respect for your sense of style, I’ll refrain from tearing any garment off of you and provide a hangar for it instead. Deal?”
The words are so forward and presumptuous. You can’t help but feel a little turned on by the action, however, and find yourself scoffing as you smile and stick a hand out for him to shake, “Deal.”
So even though you’d maybe been hoping to get a bit more free alcohol out of the company holiday party, you’re celebrating some much better company some thirty, forty minutes later, once you’re out of the car and your bare back is pressed against the locked front door of his apartment as Jaemin from IT fucks into you in a way that is the absolute opposite from soft, just as he’d promised. And when you’d moaned it out and asked, he happily agreed to (delicately, tenderly) lay his hand on your throat and apply pressure.
Your expensive cocktail dress rests on a hanger on the coat rack in his living room, just like he’d promised. You don’t put it back on until the following afternoon. And then again a year later, when you enter the company holiday party arm in arm with Jaemin from IT— Na Jaemin, you’d finally learned and committed to memory his last name after that first night, who was now your boyfriend.
“You know I didn’t take you for an outfit repeater,” he teases, this year arriving on time (at your behest) and wearing an all black suit save for the glittering of the jeweled pinstripes on his jacket.
You roll your eyes and tug him towards you by his neck tie. “Who’s fault is it that not enough people got to appreciate this dress last year, hm?”
He looks up in thought playfully for a moment before answering, “The sweaters?”
You press another kiss to his lips, this one a little less aggressively and a little bit softer (like you liked him, you’d come to find out) and reply, “Yeah, definitely the sweaters.”
author’s note | I originally wrote this in my dm’s to Clover half asleep at 6:30 in the morning on a Saturday and she told me she’d sue if I didn’t post it, so, here, lol have the expanded version that I wrote after chugging a glass of Reisling and a shot of Jameson at 10pm last night.
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freckledoriya · 3 years
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“my eyes adored you” (izuku midoriya x reader fic)
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WARNINGS: slightly angsty at times, but happy ending! 
WORD COUNT: 1.7k
SUMMARY: You were best friend with Izuku Midoriya when you were little, but went your separate ways. What happens when your paths cross again, years later? 
LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | ask box
TAGLIST: at the end of the post, message me to be added/removed!
AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is kind of (really) trash, but hey, it’s been a while and I’m trying to get back into writing. take it easy on me. 
inspired by frankie valli’s “my eyes adored you” 
You’re standing at the register of your local coffee shop, working a hundred miles per hour during the morning rush. It’s a job that you’ve had for a while now. You tell yourself you’ll leave when you find what you’re really destined to do, but the day has yet to arrive. With no current ambition and no quirk, you’re seemingly left to take coffee orders for the rest of your days. 
Today starts to blend in with all the days before. You hear the bell of the shop door sound, and sigh before preparing your best “how can I help you?” face. And that’s when you see him. Izuku Midoriya standing in front of you.
You and Izuku Midoriya have known each other for longer than you could remember. The two of you grew up together, learning how to read side by side while thumbing through hero magazines. As a pair, you two were inseparable.
“Let’s play ‘heroes!’” five-year-old Izuku chirped with a bright smile, running up to you. He sticks his hand out for you to take. “I’ll be All Might!” 
You can’t help but smile back, giggling at your best friend’s unmatched enthusiasm. “You’re always All Might,” you tease, taking his hand in yours. 
You don’t know it then, as a naive toddler, but that feeling of pure happiness that rushes through your veins when you interlock hands with Izuku, is love in its beginning form. A love that will grow so strong, it will dominate your life and never let you free of its hold. It’s the kind of love that will keep you up at night, always wondering if tomorrow will be the day when you finally get over it, knowing damn well that tomorrow will arrive and your feelings will have only grown stronger. But right now, you’re five years old, and liking a boy is icky. 
You stick with him through everything. Through him finding out he doesn’t have a quirk, to the endless bullying he endures throughout elementary and middle school because of that. You spend nights camped out in your parents’ backyard, staying up late past your bedtime to talk about each other's feelings. Comforting him through tears, you wrap your arm around him. 
“I don’t have a quirk either,” you say. “And you still think I’m pretty great, right?”
He sniffles and nods, looking up at you and giving you a slight smile. 
You're not sure why at the time, but his smile makes your heart flutter. 
It’s not till you’re in middle school, walking home along the river as Izuku carries your books for you, that it dawns on you that you want nothing more than him to be your first everything- your first date, your first kiss, your first boyfriend. That’s when he becomes your first crush. Little did you know, that crush would seemingly endure the test of time. 
Time isn’t the only thing that tests the magnitude of your crush. After middle school, something changes. Izuku somehow gets a quirk and enters into the hero program at the prestigious U.A. high school. You could tell that he didn’t mean to leave you behind. The two of you would text every so often, vowing to meet up soon. But things never seemed to work out. He was always busy training or hanging with his newer, cooler friends. By the time of high school graduation, you two barely talked anymore. And then one year, he forgot your birthday. And then the next, and then the next.
You watched him from afar, climbing up the mountain to becoming the number one hero that he is today. Working his fingers to the bone to get himself a name, you saw the hell he went through to achieve his dream. And you admired him for it.
Some days, you’d find yourself daydreaming the day away, wishing you still were a part of Izuku’s life, but knowing full well that things could never be. He’s a top hero with fangirls, and you work the counter at a coffee shop. That humbling thought brought you back to reality.
“Can I have a coffee, please?” 
You assume that’s what Izuku says, but honestly, you’re too lost in your own thoughts and in his gorgeous, green eyes to comprehend that he’s speaking. He smiles a little bit, making your heart flutter in a way that it hasn’t in a long time. 
“M-Midoriya,” you whisper, his name falling out of your lips. 
He looks at you and slightly cocks his head to the side. Then, suddenly, you see it hit him.
“Y/N?” he asks, his eyes growing wider and wider. 
You can’t help but smile at the way he says your name. After all these years, he still says it like he’s talking to his best friend. 
“Oh my god, Y/N!” he almost yells. “I can’t believe it’s you!”
“It’s me!” you giggle. “I’ve missed you so much.”
That last part was meant to stay in your mind, but slipped out. Thankfully, Izuku is too distracted by processing that you’re in front of him to really think about it. 
“Ahem,” the person in line behind Izuku clears their throat. “I hate to ruin this moment, but some of us are in a rush to get our coffee.”
The two of you blush and mutter apologies. But then you start to panic. No, this can’t be goodbye again. You can’t let him slip out of your life again. Do something. 
“I’ll be on break in 15 minutes, if you wanna go hang out and catch up?” you say, your voice cracking at the end from nerves. 
“I’m actually on parole soon, so I can’t right now. But I’ll be done with work later tonight... We should have dinner!” 
You breathe a sigh of relief. “Sounds like a plan. Meet me here at 6?”
“Yeah!”
A beat passes of awkward silence as the two of you look at each other. 
“Um…Y/N?” he asks, his eyes looking into yours. 
“Yes?” you whisper, seemingly under his spell again. 
“...Can I get that coffee?” 
That snaps you out of it. “Yes! Of course! Coming right up!” 
The day passes painfully slow at work as you wait for 6 o'clock to roll around. The day is full of you playing back memories of you and Midoriya as children-- laughing, crying, being there for each other no matter what. It felt so good to see him earlier, like a piece of your life had been missing and you didn’t feel complete until he was standing in front of you.
You sit outside the coffee shop, waiting for him to arrive. 
… But he never does. 
It’s not till 8 that it starts to hit you that you’re being stood up. You practically feel your heart start to break. 
Because, who didn’t see this coming? Izuku Midoriya has better things to do than to hang out with you. You’re stupid for thinking otherwise. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 
He’s a superstar hero, and you’re nothing compared to him. Dust. Insignificant dust. Look at him, saving the world by taking out one villain at a time. And look at you, stuck in a dead-end job with no ambitions or dreams. Crushing on a man that removed you from his life for a reason.
You feel the tears well up behind your eyes. 
How pathetic. Look at you, sitting on a bench under a streetlamp, crying. You’re an adult, hopelessly in love with someone who forgets that you even exist. Why can’t you move on? You’re crazy, that’s why. You’re insane for even entertaining the idea that someday, somehow, Izuku will come to you with his arms open. 
You can’t stop the stream of tears coming from your eyes as you break down and cry. Softly sobbing, you put your face in your hands, wanting to hide from the world forever. Then, you hear it. Someone saying your name. No, not someone. You’d know that voice anywhere. 
You look up and see Izuku kneeling beside you, eyes wide and concerned.
Immediately, you see why he was late, and you feel stupid for not thinking of it sooner.
He is beside you in his hero costume, sweaty and bleeding in various places all over his body, obviously just coming back from an intense battle that went longer than expected.
“A-are you okay?” you ask immediately, wiping your tears away with your hands. 
Izuku furrows his eyebrows. “Me? Yeah, I’m okay. It’s just some cuts and bruises… Are you okay?”
“I-” you begin to speak, your brain telling you to say ‘I’m fine!’ and make up a story about why you were sobbing on a bench by yourself. 
But you can’t. Your heart won’t let you.
“I’m so scared to lose you again,” you confess, the tears coming back to your eyes. 
Izuku's face softens. “Lose me? What do you mean? You never lost me, Y/N.” 
You sniffle and shake your head. “You went on to do such incredible and amazing things. And I’m so proud of you. But I just wish I could be part of your life again.” 
He gently places his hands over your shaking hands, his touch feels impossibly electrifying and soothing at the same time.  
“I am so sorry,” he says. His eyes drift to the side and he gulps. “I… I was scared of how I felt about you.”
“How’d you feel about me?” you ask.. 
You can see a slight blush form on Izuku’s cheeks. “Like… I really liked you.” 
He looks up at you for a response, but you’re frozen in place, your brain working overtime to figure out what he’s saying. 
He must take you silence as something negative, because he begins muttering.
“I know, it’s stupid, it’s like we were best friends and you were so great and I was so not great but our relationship was so wonderful and you made me so happy like I never would have been able to get through middle school without you and I just adored you and-”
“And now?” you interrupt. 
He stops and looks at you, eyes searching yours for answers that you’ve kept hidden and locked away for years. 
“And now… I… I… I just want to be near you.” 
You don’t think. You just hug. 
You pull Izuku into you, wrapping your arms around his neck, breathing in the scent of him and reminding yourself that this isn’t a dream. It takes a second for him to unfreeze and hug you back, but when he does, you could swear that you’re flying. 
(TOLD YOU IT WAS TRASH IM SO SORRY PLS DON’T HATE ME)
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lady-himbo · 3 years
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In Your Shadow
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sort of Javier Peña x reader, platonic!Steve Murphy x reader (she/her pronouns; no Y/N used)
Javi keeps getting the credit for work he didn’t do, and she’s pissed. Chaos ensues.
Word count: 2500+
Warnings: angst and frustration, lots of cursing, potentially horrid Spanish (I’m learning, I promise), smoking
A/N: This is based on the song Shadow by Unlike Pluto. You can find pieces of the lyrics in the dialogue. You can also find the translations of everything said in Spanish at the end! Feel free to correct me on anything; like I said, I’m learning Spanish, and I appreciate any advice. <3
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“... and thank you again to Agente Peña for providing this invaluable intel.” As the meeting adjourned and several individuals voiced their praise, she charged out of the briefing room and into the office, seething, death-gripping her files to her chest. Hot on her heels, Steve attempted to pacify her.
“I’m sure he didn’t mean to steal your thunder, honey. He’s just-”
“What? He’s just what, Steve? A senior agent? Running the show? A man? Tell me, what exactly justifies him getting credit for the shit I’ve worked months on?!” The files were starting to crumple in her grasp.
“Well, I don-”
“This isn’t even the first time he’s done it! He’s gotten recognition for my informants, my intel, my translations, my briefings, my goddamn livelihood!” Her voice was starting to raise in pitch and volume as tears gathered in her eyes. Steve held his hands up, trying to silently reason with her. “I can’t win, Steven! I work my ass off day and night for this fuckin’ job, only to have the rug pulled out from under me because I’m ‘not working as hard’ as holier-than-thou Javier goddamn Peña and his massive ego! I have to live under it and, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, it casts giant shadows!”
Unfortunately, the source of her rage had picked an inopportune time to waltz in. With only a second to register Steve’s panicked look, Javi might as well have wandered into the middle of a firing squad. The execution probably wouldn’t have been half as painful.
“You motherfucker!” she yelled, slamming the now torn and wrinkled papers onto her desk with a clatter. “You lying, power-hungry, manipulative bastard! You fuck every other woman you get the chance to, but you’ve decided to fuck my life instead! I’ve worked for fucking months; hundreds of hours and sleepless nights on this information, and you’ve taken all the credit! Again!”
Javi, oblivious to the full impact of this outburst, opted for the worst possible response. “Come on, sweetheart, we’re working as a team. Plus, you asked me to hand it in to Noonan. If you wanted to take credit for it so badly, you should’ve just talked to her yourself!” Steve visibly cringed and gestured for him to cut it out. Too late.
She stalked forward and, though Javi tried to back up, she had him backed into a corner. “You pompous ass! ¡Más tonto y no naces!” She’d broken out her Spanish. Oh boy. “I can’t even talk to Noonan because she always tells me to run my ideas by your incompetant ass! You cast a shadow over everything I try to do; it’s not like I can get anything worthwhile done when your massive ego’s towering over my ambitions!” She jabbed a finger into his chest, punctuating her words. “Nothing I’ve ever done here has ever mattered to the agency, because I live in your shadow and you’ve taken all of it from me! When will you move out of my way and stop treating me like a fucking doormat?!”
Javi was starting to get defensive, which was never a good sign, especially when Spanish started to get sprinkled in. “¡Oh, lo siento mucho!” he shot back sarcastically. “I wasn’t aware that all the work you get authorized by me to do was proprietary!”
“Are you fuckin’ serious?” she spat. “All you had to do was say the report was from me! It’s not proprietary, Peña, it’s my goddamn right to present the information that I spent my own money, overtime, health, and physical fucking safety to acquire! I’m sorry that I have a genuine interest in making sure this case gets handled right instead of spending my every waking moment getting my dick wet in my informants!”
A small group was starting to gather near the office, waiting to hear if Peña finally got his ass handed to him. This didn’t seem to bother either agent as they glared each other down. With Peña’s pride now on the line, no holds were barred, and he was ready to bust out personal attacks.
“Any competent agent would’ve just handed their shit in themselves, but no, you’ve gotta rely on someone else to do it for you.” He was livid; his pride had been damaged while he was riding the high of gloat and achievement, like getting laid and immediately being punched in the balls. She wasn’t letting this one go, and it was obvious he wasn’t either. “God! You’re like a cloud every time you walk in here, bitching about how little sleep you’re getting or how your work is piling up; a fuckin’ rain on my parade!” He stepped forward, crowding her, his posture more and more assertive with every word. “¡Madura de una vez! You’re an adult, a government agent, taking down a drug cartel run by Pablo fuckin’ Escobar! No one’s getting sleep, and it certainly doesn’t help when you’re whining about it! Maybe if you stopped, you’d have time to turn in your own reports and get the credit you don’t deserve!”
Escobar himself could’ve walked through the office and no one would’ve noticed. Javi’s mouth slammed shut the moment the words left, but they seemed to echo in the eerily silent office. Her shoulders sagged, and she stumbled back a few steps, trying to steady herself.
“Fuck, I-” Javi choked on his words. Her eyes were red, her cheeks stained, but her face was frighteningly level.
“Yeah, tienes razón.” Her voice was hollow, tired. “It’s always stormy lately. I guess I’m just under too much pressure; it’s driving me insane. There’s only one way to relieve it.” She slipped off her gun holster and unclipped her badge, pressing them into his chest. “I quit.” Without a second glance, she stormed out of the office.
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Two weeks later, her desk was cleared out, her files and informants were on a list to be redistributed to the rest of the unit, and the office was uncomfortably heavy. Javi was smoking way more than usual, everyone avoided him like the plague, Steve was bored, the case was at a standstill, and the quiet was palpable. She was no longer a colorful presence flitting around the tables, leaving a rainbow of Post-it Notes in her wake, charting cell signals, calling out for advice, chatting on the phone in Spanglish, humming quietly or bobbing her head to the radio, popping up to refill her coffee cup and offering to refill everyone else’s every couple hours, then rushing off to the bathroom when she’d had too much. She was a constant presence the unit soon realized they’d taken advantage of.
The phone on Steve’s desk rang mid-morning, and he stifled a yawn as he picked it up. “Murphy,” he grunted.
“Hey, Stevie,” came a familiar voice. “¿Qué pasa?”
He brightened. “Hey, hon.” He felt some of the tension leave him, but it was still there. “We’re fuckin’ stuck. Nothing’s happening, everyone’s lifeless, and Javi’s still moping. Eso es lo que pasa.” He could hear her breathy laugh; she was always proud when he practiced his conversational Spanish with her. She’d told him she felt it was an honor he was comfortable enough to try it out around her. “What’s up with you?”
“Ahí vamos; he estado mejor. I’m sorry you have to deal with-” she stopped and huffed, then her words became muffled. “Tengo una cita con la embajadora, huevón. ¡Estoy al teléfono!” She yelped. “¡Tócame otra vez y te rompo la nariz!” There was a brief commotion, then a thump, and suddenly, her voice became clear again. “Sorry, I’m waiting on Noonan. I’m supposed to meet with her today to finalize my paperwork.”
Steve sighed. “You’re really going through with this, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess I am.” Another voice called her name in the background, then spoke quietly for a moment. “What?! ¿Qué quiere decir ‘no está aquí’?” The voice spoke again, then there was a pause. “Okay… Si, todo bien… Está bien. Listo.” Then, back to Steve: “Noonan didn’t show. Some emergency meeting. Just great; I guess I’m rescheduling.”
“Maybe it’s fate!” Steve teased, only half joking. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Javi trudge across the office to the coffee pot, give it a long, forlorn look, then trudge back towards his desk. His eyes were heavy, his shirt rumpled, even his mustache looked sad. As he plopped down amongst towers of papers, Steve cleared his throat and made a show of nestling the handset under his chin. “Well, whatever the case, that gives me time to convince you to stay with us. Your desk looks stupid empty.” Though he was deliberately looking away, he could see Javi’s head and shoulders snap up like he’d heard a gunshot. On the other end of the line, she laughed.
“Don’t try to sweet talk me, Murphy. I’d welcome the company, though.”
“Of course!” he replied, making sure his smile was as cheesy as possible. “I’ll meet you outside in a little bit?” She agreed.
Steve busied himself with pretending to look busy for the next half hour, then announced he was going to talk to Carrillo. As soon as he turned the corner and was sure he was out of sight, he watched Javi scramble out of his seat and out the door.
Outside the building, she was sitting on a bench, her back turned. Lazy wisps of cigarette smoke danced in the wind in front of her figure, and Javi suddenly felt very insecure. He called her name, uncomfortable with the way his voice wavered. She jumped, then, after a beat, slowly turned towards him. “Come mierda, Javier.” He didn’t let her words deter him, approaching the side of the bench. She glared up at him. “No me joda. I’ll finish up in a second and leave.” He wrung his hands, feeling small under her stare.
“I’m going to sit with you,” he declared.
“Please go,” she said, softer this time. “I just wanna feel the wind one last time before I leave. Just wanna look at this shitty masterpiece of a city; really take it in.”
He ignored her plea and sat, far enough away that he didn’t feel like he was ganging up on her. They just sat, and she took long, deep drags of her cigarette. After she eventually ground the butt into the pavement, he took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry.” He left the declaration hanging in the wind for a moment, before plunging on. “I’m sorry for what I said, and what I’ve been doing to you. I’ve been a selfish asshole, and you were right to call me out on that. I’m not going to convince you to stay, because you don’t deserve to be dealing with my bullshit all the time. You’re talented and selfless and I never appreciated everything you sacrificed for us until it was gone. I just- fuck, I feel like such a piece of shit.”
“You are.” He blinked owlishly. “You’re a self-centered, impulsive manwhore with a weird mixture of self-hatred and a superiority complex. You’ve been a horrible coworker and I almost feel ashamed that I tried so hard to be your friend.” He ducked his head, trying to hide his mortification. “Almost.”
He peered back up at her, cocking his head in confusion. “That said, you’re a great agent, kind and sympathetic when you wanna be, passionate about the work we do, and, when you keep a level head, you’re fun to work with. I don’t know if I can forgive you right now for all the shit you did, but your apology goes a long way. I appreciate that.”
She took a deep breath, then stilled, staring out into the movement and noise of Medellín. He watched her for a few minutes, though it felt like hours. He watched the clenching and unclenching of her jaw, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the flutter of her eyelashes; all the details he’d been too busy to notice. “Penny for your thoughts?”
She looked over, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t know. I’m just thinkin’ about life. What I want to do.”
“I know it doesn’t amount to much, but I’d like you to stay.”
“I can’t- I mean, I can, it’s just that- fuck, I don’t even know,” she mumbled, furrowing her brows to try to stop a tear from slipping down her cheek. “It’s just that, by all official records, I’m pretty much worthless here, y’know? All my abilities go unnoticed and it’s like I’m not even there. I know you don’t mean to stand above me, but you are, and the shadow I live under is killing me. It’s taken my job, my self worth, my… being. I can’t live like that anymore, constantly working at the precipice of death, of destruction, of failure, and the one thing I can do to help isn’t even appreciated as my own. It’s just… cold.”
Javi nodded. “After you left, I went up to Noonan and explained what’d happened; that I didn’t deserve any of the credit I’d been given.”
“Well, that’s not true! The things that you did you deserve credit for. You’re incredibly talented, Javi, just not with my intel.”
“But… you do deserve the credit I get. You deserve so much more than you‘ve ever gotten. What I said was so selfish.”
She grabbed his hand. “Javi, selfishness aside, I know you’re in a dark place. We all are. After all, we’re government agents ‘taking down a drug cartel run by Pablo fuckin’ Escobar’ and we don’t get any sleep.” She smiled at her usage of the words he’d berated her with weeks earlier. “I should’ve taken more initiative to turn in my own work; it was silly of me to put that on you. I know you’ve got your own mess going on. Plus, I said a lot of awful things right back. Most of them I meant, some of them I didn’t, but I could’ve handled it all a lot better. I’m sorry we didn’t work this out earlier.”
Javi squeezed her hand, feeling a little warm tingle in his stomach. “Me too.” He sighed, raking his other hand through his hair. “I- er, we really do need your help. You’re priceless.” She exhaled sharply, tilting her head back and forth as if weighing her options.
“Fine. I’ll talk to Noonan.” Javi’s face lit up. “But on two conditions.” He nodded. “One: I get recognition for my past and future work, and two: you promise to work with me and call on me if we have any issues. We can’t have these communication errors any longer if we’re gonna catch these bastards.” She paused, then smiled lightly. “Also, you owe me a lot of coffee.”
Just as Javi agreed, Steve came out of the building. He stopped a few paces from them, looking back and forth from Javi’s pink cheeks and goofy grin, her teary eyes, and their interlaced hands. “I’m sorry, what did I miss?”
She laughed as they pulled their hands apart and she wiped the tears away. “I’m keeping my job.”
“That’s amazing! …Peña, what did you dose her with?” Javi let out the fakest laugh he could, but smiled along with it. She sighed softly, the breeze dancing across her skin.
“All I want is to cast my own shadow.”
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Translations:
¡Más tonto y no naces! - If you were any dumber, you wouldn’t have been born!)
¡Oh, lo siento mucho! -> Oh, I’m so sorry!
¡Madura de una vez! -> Grow up!
tienes razón -> you’re right
¿Qué pasa? -> What’s up?
Eso es lo que pasa. -> That’s what’s up.
Ahí vamos; he estado mejor. -> Fine, I guess; I’ve been better.
Tengo una cita con la embajadora, huevón. ¡Estoy al teléfono! -> I have an appointment with the ambassador, asshole. I’m on the phone!
¡Tócame otra vez y te rompo la nariz! -> Touch me again and I’ll break your nose!
¿Qué quiere decir ‘no está aquí’? -> What do you mean ‘she’s not here’?
Si, todo bien… Está bien. Listo. -> Yeah, all good… all right. Okay.
Come mierda -> Eat shit
No me joda. -> Don’t fuck with me.
33 notes · View notes
cozy-neko · 3 years
Text
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The Cherry On Top • Character Introductions • 01 | And so it begins • 02
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With each cup of coffee Y/N placed in the cupholder, a low grumble accompanied the action. Each thunk of coffee that slid into each holder was a little more aggressive and heavy-handed than the task need be, but the air of irritation that emitted from the girl was undeniably strong, and the unfortunate barista that was tasked to make this foul-mood customer’s drinks handed her the last of her order before quickly slinking away.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Y/N continued to grumble under her breath the entire frigid three blocks back to the campus of where her office was located.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” A scowl was evident on the girl’s face the entire elevator ride up the tall skyscraper until it dinged and stopped at the 70th floor. It wasn’t until the doors slid open that Y/N sucked in a shaky breath and plastered a Crest-worthy, Splenda-sweet smile on her face as she exited the lift and entered the bustling office.
“Coffee’s here!” Y/N sang out and placed the two cup holders down on top of the front office’s counter tabletop.
“Y/N’s back!”
A scurry of workers crowded around the 21-year-old girl as she animatedly read off orders off the top of her head and handed them out, one-by-one to its rightful owner.
“You’re the best, Y/N-chan!” A senpai from the tech editorial department ruffled her head, earning a small whimper of protest as she tried to sooth her hair. It wasn’t like she spent twenty-minutes this morning trying to tame her unruly mane for nothing.
“Isn’t Y/N the best? She’s always so good at remembering who gets what.” Another senpai from the lifestyle editorial department chimed in and took a sip from her latte.
“Oh no, no! I’m just doing my job.” Y/N let out a forced chuckle, but it went unnoticed as her coworkers slowly disappeared back to their corner of the office to get back to work.
"Alright, you can drop the act, you fake."
The instant Y/N heard a snort coming from behind, the fake smile that was plastered to her face immediately dropped as she whipped around to face a chestnut-haired male.
"I hate it here," Y/N groaned and leaned her upper body onto the countertop. She let out a huff of air and blew a stray piece of hair away from her eyes. "I can't wait to graduate from coffee intern to staff writer."
"You're meeting with the Chief later today, right?" Oikawa Tooru removed his hands from the pockets of his slacks and eyed the remaining drink leftover.
"Mmm, yeah." Y/N let out a distracted sigh as her thumbs flew across the keyboard of her smartphone for a quick text. With the click of a button, she locked her phone and shoved it into her pants pocket and gave her full attention to the older male. "Chief told me that she had good news for me, and judging by all the overtime work and random projects I picked up over the past few months --"
"You mean bitch work?" Oikawa interrupted, earning a glare from the girl.
"For your information, my 'bitch work' got published last week! And that's besides the point. All that matters is that Chief has noticed that I'm a responsible worker who is willing to go above and beyond my day-to-day tasks and now I'm definitely getting the promotion that's been long due!"
There was a smug grin on Y/N's face while Oikawa rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, you are a hard worker, Y/N-chan, but that doesn't mean you should be doing other people's tasks when it should be their job to do them in the first place."
"Can't you just be happy for me?" Y/N whined. "I didn't graduate from UTokyo with over $100k in student debt just to go on coffee runs. And I don't even get to have my own drink!"
Oikawa sighed and placed a hand on top of the shorter girl's head. "I am happy for you. And proud of you. I hope you get the staff writer position you wanted, and when you do get assigned to my department, I'll make sure to run you dead with ten articles simultaneously." 
There was an evil, teasing glint in Oikawa's eyes which Y/N responded to by sticking out her tongue.
A ding! interrupted the teasing banter and Y/N checked her phone. She let out a quick squeal and a small hop.
"Gotta go! Ayame-san from tech has an article she wants me to write!"
Y/N waved goodbye and scurried away.
"Hey! I asked for a dirty Chai, not a mocha! What the fuck, Y/N?" Oikawa yelled after the retreating girl.
"Serves you right for making me do your coffee run too, Oinkawa!" Y/N's bubbly laughter echoed through the hallway as she skipped towards the tech editorial department.
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Oikawa sighed and tugged at the front pieces of his hair. It was already nearing the end of the day, but he was still at least half an hour away from completing his remaining task for the day. He was currently in the middle of copy-editing an article one of his staff writers submitted earlier today when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.
Oikawa removed his glasses and pulled out his phone, rubbing his tired eyes while unlocking his phone. It was a text from Y/N.
She must've finally talked to Chief, Oikawa thought. He swiped his thumb to unlock his phone and read the text.
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Oikawa grimaced at Y/N’s text. It was obvious the meeting did not go the way Y/N had wanted it to. Sighing, Oikawa stood up and packed his things. Looks like the article was going to have to be pushed back a week; there was a more important meeting he had to attend to first.
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Y/N glared at her phone and bounced her leg, a nervous tick that Oikawa absolutely hated whenever she did. Maybe if he was here right now, he would've had the opportunity to scold her. Except his train was running five minutes late. Y/N groaned as she watched another minute go by.
Where's Tooru?
How much longer was he going to make her sit in agony at their favorite bakery and tea shop? 
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Right when Y/N was about to hit send on her phone, the shop door jingled, and in waltzed Oikawa.
"Alright, alright, I'm here. What happened?" Oikawa was slightly breathless, having sped-walked from the station and down the block to meet up with Y/N. He rolled up his button-down sleeves and removed his work badge from around his neck.
"So I got the promotion," Y/N began to which Oikawa cut her off.
"Okay, congrats, but that's hardly an existential crisis."
"No! Let me finish!" Y/N stomped her foot once, irritation beginning to seep in. Oikawa rolled his eyes, completely immune to Y/N's temper flare ups. Instead of retorting, he opted to take a sip of her fruit tea. "I got the promotion, but it wasn't the promotion I wanted."
"Did you get placed in lifestyle with Iwa-chan? I heard that department's kind of a mess right now. Iwa-chan told me their lifestyle editor's too busy hooking up with Hanamaki's layout intern to even run the department --"
"Tooru, for kami's sake, I'm begging you to shut up." Y/N groaned and covered her face with her hands. "I'm TK Mag's new gossip blogger. Chief wants me to freaking exploit influencers under the alias of 'Cherry' for the new Cherry on Top blog."
“The new what now?”
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end notes: 
→ the timestamps at the top of each photo are irrelevant. the timestamps that you want to pay attention to (or not. it really doesn’t matter) are the ones within the text chats.
→ if you see the word shanchou in oikawa’s and y/n’s texts, i accidentally misspelled the word shachou which means “president of the company.” i was debating whether i wanted to use the japanese spelling or just keep it as Chief. i changed my mind multiple times and decided to just go with the english version but got too lazy to correct the photo. 🤡
→ props to authors who only explicitly write smaus. creating each social post is so time consuming and slightly frustrating that i almost threw my phone across the room.
→ don’t come at me for my nonexistent and try-hard humor. 😔✋this is why i only write angst.
→ no kenma and akaashi this chapter, but they will be introduced in the next!
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TAG LIST:
if you’re interested in being notified when a new chapter gets published, please interact with the series overview post to be added to my tag list for this series!
also, please make sure your tag notification settings are turned on, or else I won’t be able to tag you!!
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39 notes · View notes
whatgaviiformes · 3 years
Text
10. Music Makers - Part 5 / Scenes from Gordon’s Bedside
“When words fail, music speaks”
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Chapter Summary:  Virgil and Gordon and music
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
You are Here 
Chapter A/N: In honor of 10 chapters of this concept, the plan is to give you a hell of a chapter 10 with a few moments in time strung together. I decided to go ahead and share what I have with you instead of waiting. Once the chapter has been shared in full over tumblr, I will post the full piece at Ao3 and FF.net. It may or may not make sense to remain as chapter 10 or be it’s own thing. Do share if you have an opinion. :-) 
 The title Music Makers comes from “Ode” by  Arthur O'Shaughnessy, and it is very lovely.
Part Notes: Thanks to @janetm74 and @gumnut-logic by extension for the second opinions on the thing I asked. You know what for; I can be a little on the paranoid side. For music reqs on this one, it’s a mix of quite a few different things- but I’ve been listening to a lot of this album: Endeavor by Christoffer Franzen 
***
Music Makers - Part 5/6
The one advantage to the sudden upheaval in his education was that instead of continuing to grad school, Virgil was able to use his skills for a practical purpose under the tutelage of one of the world’s most brilliant minds; and meeting Brains had been awesome.
It meant that his own blood, sweat, and tears went into the building of the birds. And also very possibly his fury.
It meant he could stay on their island home to help Gordon’s recovery. For all the good it did him. One day the idiot would learn that pushing himself doesn’t make him cool, it makes him stupid.
The last thing he had expected to see when checking in on his brother for the night was him standing. Without assistance, without protection nearby, the walker and the chair both out of reach. Of all the stupid, idiotic –
Words had been exchanged, and not nice ones.
He needed to walk out before he said anything he regretted.
To be fair, welding at 2AM didn’t make him dedicated, it made him equally as stupid. He’d just been so mad, but after an hour or two, the rage had dissipated, and he’d stayed primarily to get the job done.
He’s not too much of a completion-ist, though, to admit when he’s getting tired. His work is sending all that ire right back to him. The angry shower of sparks very much tells him Thunderbird One’s panel does not appreciate his carelessness. One is going to be Scott’s and already she is so like his older brother. He can practically hear Scott telling him to clean up and get some rest before he screws up his baby.
Better listen.
He definitely needs to shower once he gets to his room; the sweat has started to make him itchy, and he feels grimy now that he’s had the time to think about it.  He picks up rag from their supplies with a yawn, and wipes at his face.
Ug. Gross. The dryness in his throat warrants a stop by the kitchen as well for rehydration. He thinks that perhaps the headache he’s had throbbing behind his eyes was actually lack of water and not so much his brother.
Tired as he is, it only takes less than a second for Virgil to notice the prone form on the ground as he walks through the faintly lit lounge on his way to the kitchen. And that dryness in his throat, from earlier is nothing in comparison to the fear lodged in his throat as he chokes out syllables that are supposed to be Gordon’s name as he kneels beside the figure.
His hands are trembling as they reach out to search for a pulse at his neck, and with his other hand he pushes back the strands of golden hair to reveal his brother’s face: pale, flushed cheeks, closed eyes.
Jesus.
Tear streaks.
“Virgil?” Gordon’s voice is groggy, but he stirs underneath Virgil’s hands.
“Gordon! What’s wrong?”
“Go away,” he mumbles. “I’m sleeping.”  
Virgil retracts his fingers sharply and sits back on his heels.
Sleeping.
He was just sleeping. His heart is a jack hammer in his chest, and Gordon was just sleeping.
He sighs as he tries to get his heart rate under control. But then….
“Out here?” It’s a very long distance from Gordon’s bedroom to the lounge, and there’s no sight of his chair. Or his walker.
“I had no choice,” Gordon says weakly, opening an eye to look at his brother. “Good a place as any.”
Virgil’s heart clenches at the pain behind the words. Sleeping, yes, but still hurt, and the lack of movement below him tells him exactly what happened. Gordon had followed him.
Their fight had been hours ago.
He feels his hackles rise again. “Goddamn it, Gordon, this is exactly-”
“Virgil! Not now! Please, not now.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I tried! You left.”
“You weren’t listening!”
“Shut up, Virgil,” he snaps. “God. Just – I don’t know - go get Brains or something. Leave me alone.”  The biting words quickly turn into a pained cough, a gasp as the spasm hits, and Virgil feels the fight leave him. He reaches out to rest his hand on Gordon’s shoulder blade and hates that his brother flinches at his touch.
“Gordon. I am sorry. Let me help,” he says softly. “I am not leaving you here.”
“Why not?” Gordon responds bitterly. “You did earlier.”
“I know.” It surprises him when he says it, and Gordon’s not innocent either, but he can’t deny that he ran, retreated, and made himself scarce in work that couldn’t be done safely with a phone distracting him. “I know, Gordo.”
“It’s not fair. You can’t just leave when you know I can’t follow.”  Even so, it’s obvious that Gordon still had tried, and it’s a stab to the gut to think about how long his brother had been stuck in the lounge, to realize that he is so used to this level of pain that he can sleep through it. He looks up at him, eyes glazed with pain when he pleads, “Please don’t do it again. Please don’t leave me alone.” Then with a twist of the knife, “You’ve always been the one that stays.”
He is the freaking worst brother in the history of existence.
There’s little Virgil can do in reply but hang his head, as he helps work the kinks out of Gordon’s back, moving slowly towards his lumbar region where multiple surgeries and lingering nanobots have started to rebuild the damage. Gordon’s spine is 40% bone, 50% metal, and 10% nanobots.
Both the surgery and the nanobots were new procedures, and while Gordon’s case was a perfect scenario for the parameters, there was a timetable to be upheld. The nanobots were dispersed into his spine overtime, every two weeks, by way of a large needle. Each injection was a step closer to full recovery.
With nanotechnology, they didn’t know how badly it could wrong, and even Brains had reminded him he had to stick to the approved physical therapy plan if he wanted to keep those nanobots working. A shock to one of their microscopic systems could mean a full failure in their duty to realign a critical nerve. Gordon could ruin everything with his obstinacy.
Virgil had just been afraid for Gordon, afraid to fail when the stakes were so high. He hadn’t meant to leave him. Not like that, not with the gut-twisting wound of betrayal that came with it. Virgil just needed time to process – he always had. His anger was the slow vibration of magma.  It was easier to work through his emotions when he had time to think through them, and he didn’t mind going to bed angry. And if he was still angry in the morning it meant that whatever had transpired, it was worth his frustration.
Gordon, though, pushed and pushed until whatever confrontation was forced to happen in the here and now until his point of view was seen or the matter was resolved.  His anger was fire, a deluge of sparks until you were surrounded. It was never a good combination.
Virgil left before he exploded. Gordon from a year ago would’ve known that.
“Any better?”
“A little,” he nods.
But Gordon is not the kid he was a year ago.
It’s a muscle pain, Gordon admits, a stiffness he knows well. Any damage to his spine – well, that’s a different kind of pain. Even still, they need to check to make sure he didn’t injure himself further, and that it is ok for him to move. He is just going to leave for a second Virgil promises, and he runs to the infirmary for the scanner.
It's programmed to find the status of every nanobot in Gordon’s system and will automatically report back to Brains and the team of doctors on the mainland. The green lights across the image of Gordon’s spine seem promising, and Virgil adds a brief journal entry to send with the timed log: Over-exerted in exercises today, muscle stiffness resulting in spasms and inability to move, but no apparent damage to nanos. Massaged area.  – VT
Just in case, he’d rather have a doctor sign off. He adds:  OK to move?
A message comes back with a ding, indicating it’s from one of Gordon’s doctors in reply.
“So what’s the damage. Am I still one step closer to being a cyborg?”
Virgil is not going to dignify that joke with a response, frowning, but tells him he is okay to move.  They agree on the recliner on the opposite side of the lounge. Virgil helps shift him to his side so that he can be picked up, and he tries to be as gentle as possible with his movements, carefully slipping one arm below Gordon’s knees and the other at his upper back. At the same time, Gordon slings his arm around Virgil’s neck.
They’ve had a lot of practice. Lift from the legs, never the back.
Gordon hisses with the movement and tucks his head into Virgil’s chest.
“What furnace ran you over?” He asks through gritted teeth.
“I know. Sorry about the smell. I was welding.”
Gordon grunts in reply as Virgil situates him in the recliner, raising the footrest and lowering the backrest into position. They have a few heating pads around the villa, the closest being in a supply cabinet, but Virgil treks down to Gordon’s room instead for the one that lives there so he can also bring back Gordon’s hoverchair at the same time. Gordon’s not fond of the chair and what it means, but he’ll appreciate the independence it  affords him once he’s feeling better. He’ll be able to come and go as he’s ready.
Gordon nods appreciatively when he sees what Virgil has brought back, and it is with expert hands that Virgil guides the heating pad to Gordon’s lower back. The blond exhales, breathing deeply.
“30 minutes only, Gordo. Set a timer.”  He gives him a thumbs up, but Virgil knows he needs to keep an eye too. Gordon has a habit of just leaving the heat on. “I mean it.”
Water next. Even though the headache behind his eyes has a bit more of Gordon’s name on it now, he is still parched. And Gordon could use some extra fluids too.
He heads to the kitchen and fills up two 32 oz jugs.
“Here you go. Hydrate,” Virgil says when he returns, handing over Gordon’s favorite. He is happy to see Gordon’s small smile at the cartoon llama and motivational phrase: Listen to your llama, drink your water and hold the drama. Virgil has an entire shelf of coffee mugs to express himself. Gordon has water bottles.
It’s such a simple thing, Gordon’s smile. But he’d thought for a long time he’d never see it again.
For a few moments, the dim lounge is quiet save Virgil’s desperate guzzling as the water soothes his dry throat. Finally, some relief.
“You going to slow down there, big guy?”
He shakes his head as he swallows.
This evening was too much.
From the throb of his headache to the prickling in his fingers, Virgil’s body vibrates with the whiplash of the emotions from the past few hours. Exhaustion, anger, fear, anger again, sadness, guilt.
“Do you want to maybe not drown yourself?” Gordon asks. “That’s my job.”
Virgil stops gulping the water with a gasp of air, and the remaining fluid sloshes as the water jug topples out of his trembling hand. Gordon flinches at the loud thump it makes as it hits the hardwood and rolls. Virgil is shell shocked where he stands.  
“Fuck. Not like that,” Gordon corrects quickly. “Shit, sorry. I just meant no one can drown you but me.”
Ah.
“I need to sit.” Virgil falls back to piano bench, dropping his head into hands and rubbing at his eyes.
Too much.  
“A-are you ok?”
“I don’t know.” A pause as Virgil looks up. “Are you?”
“I don’t know.”
They’ve made a mess of this evening, such terrible things they said to each other in Gordon’s room, and they’re both tired, drained, with maelstroms behind their eyes.
Gordon holds his gaze as Virgil looks away.
Virgil glances over as Gordon looks away.
Beneath fluttering fingertips, Virgil bounces his knee. Gordon closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing, the heat on his back, on the beat of Virgil’s foot tapping on the floor.
He asks, “Hey Virgil? Can you play something?”
“Yeah,” Virgil breathes. “I can do that.” He had been about to ask Gordon if he minded.
Back poised, Virgil turns away and opens the lid of his baby grand in the moonlight, and he plays, channeling every moment of the night into melodies that speak in ways he knows neither one of them can.
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
Then again, maybe it is that simple.
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