#of being with someone mature enough to realize when something isn't quite right and he needs help. and isn't afraid of saying it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dairy-farmer · 1 year

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Sorry for the anon, but I'm LadyLilac just on my gen account rip. Anyways, the Tim/Thomas Wayne thing you wrote about is making me insane! I love love love what you did with it! But I am also being possessed by the idea of making it angst. Where Tim does have a sexual relationship with Tom starting at age 11 or 12, and Bruce finds out at like age 16 or maybe 17.

Bruce finding out and after years of covering for his father struggling to figure out what to do. How can he help Tim? Can he turn his father in, and break what little hope Alfred has in his oldest friend? And can Bruce even help Tim when he doesn't want to be helped, and particularly not by the man Thomas raged about everytime he's brought up. The whump would be so good!

Bruce dragging Tim home to the manor and trying to parent him, while his sons drag their feet at the (precieved) idea of having some rich brat in their home. Tim hating Bruce for taking away the only adult who cared for him, while still admiring him for being Batman. Maybe even Tim trying seduce Bruce, both because he looks like Thomas and is batman and partly because he wants to prove his point he's old enough to consent. Sorry for flailing in your inbox 😅 but thank you for your wonderful ideas! Sorry for any typos, I'm typing on my phone as always

hi lilac!!!!! i'm so happy you enjoyed it!!!! and teen bruce would definitely be caought in quite a conundrum and struggle to his approach. it would definitly hit him harder than older, adult bruce who has his own kids and has been estranged from his dad for years. the timeline would definitely throw a few things off making dick younger than tim so by the time dick and the others come into bruce's life, tim would be an adult just a few years younger than bruce.

where older bruce sort of lets things be and halfheartedly looks to see if anything illegal happened (and even if he had most likely would not have reported it because thomas wayne is no longer a factor in his life anymore and bruce doesn't really want to get sucked back in by the problems his father makes himself). teenage bruce is young, he's angry, he's hurt. the feelings he has towards his father are still fresh. but bruce covers for him because part of him is still that young boy that is holding out for the hope that his father will change and go back to the man he was before the accident. it's not until year later when he's matured and become batman and adopted dick and realized he would never do what his father did that he lets go.

bruce would be devastated to learn his father is fucking someone even younger than him, someone, who's not even in high school yet. he and tim go to the same school because gotham academy runs from K-12 and bruce finds out in the worst way possible. he leaves school late and alfred has gone on vacation. he'd made bruce's father promise he'd pick him up but bruce knows that's not going to happen so he's stuck taking the bus. he's taking a shortcut through an empty park when....he spots his father's car? parked in an empty lot and bruce knows it's his father's because of the plate and also because not everyone is driving around in a custom cadillac. and he thinks for a moment maybe his father didn't forget but the other part of him, the wary and suspicious part knows that something isn't right. so bruce sneaks up to the car, making sure to do so with the blindspot of the car. bruce's father has his windows tinted same as everyone in the city because in gotham it's basically compulsory if you don't want someone with a gun coming up to your window and telling you to get out.

but bruce is careful. he's discreet and he picks a small corner of the back window to cup his hands around his eye and peek in and when he does he....he's sure he has to have it wrong. that he's misreading the situation. because the sweater vest that the middleschoolers all wear is one the floor of the his father's car. the car that's softly swaying and rocking and bruce hadn't realized it until he was leaning against it and watching as his nearly 40 year old father fucked a squirming, red faced, no more than 10 year old kid.

bruce can't describe the feeling, the dread, the disappointment, the shock, the horror he feels as he watches his father fuck a too big cock into such a little pink hole.

bruce is borderline catatonic for hours, he snaps back when he's home and in his room and curled up in his bed like when he was a kid. he doesn't know how he got home. there's no food in the kitchen when he descends so he needs to order something if he wants to eat. but bruce isn't hungry. his stomach is swirling with too much unease for him to want to eat. bruce feels like he wants to throw up, like he wants to cry.

that kid hadn't even been his age, he'd been younger. he couldn't possibly have been older than...than bruce when his mother died. bruce has had a sour relationship with his dad for years (bruce thinks of his missing pain pills that he'd "lost"), he's even been playing with the idea of going through with his plans to aquire skills that might help him (there's a man in rio de janeiro who can teach him driving skills to outpace the police-). but this is....this isn't his father's self destruction. this involves someone else aside from bruce, this involves someone innocent.

it takes bruce less than a day to identify the boy he'd seen his father with. a quick flip through the yearbook tells him the boy is named timothy j drake and he's eleven years old.

bruce is...is so unsteadied by this new information. he feels...scared. he doesn't know why. he doesn't know what to do, who to tell....if he should tell at all. bruce's father is not well. he knows that. he's known that for awhile because the man who lived dow the hall from him could not possibly be the ma who carried bruce on his shoulders, who snuck him candy, who loved bruce so dearly that when he saw the gun change directions he'd shifted his body and spread out his arms to protect bruce from being hit.

it cannot be the same man. and yet...

bruce hates himself.

he returns to school the next day and his eyes seek out a familiar form that he'd seen arching up to meet his father's thrusts. bruce watches as he talks with his friends about some new issue of a comic book, as they tall about fantasy books and some board game they're playing together. tim is social and happy, he has friends and a social life. he doesn't...act like a victim.

in the car...when bruce had watched him and his father he hadn't looked like he was trying to get away or escape he....hadn't looked like he'd hated it.

bruce hates himself. he's just looking for excuses. looking for somehow to not have to be the person to do something about this.

bruce does not say anything. and he hates himself.

he never stops. years later and he watches grown up timothy drake accompanying his father to galas as his "nurse" and he hates himself for never having said anything. alfred is talking to his father who is smiling and happy and bruce had seen how alfred had nearly been driven to tears when his father had reached out to him months ago about getting a drink together. he'd extended the same invitation to bruce but bruce had refused, claiming that he needed to hep damian with a science project. damian...who had just turned 12. nearly the same age as timothy drake had been when bruce had found them fucking.

it'd been years. bruce had been so sure someone else would find out. someone else would say something. someone else would put a stop to it, stop his father from fucking a child too young to understand what they were doing. god. how had no one else seen it? the way his father had a hand wrapped around tim's waist, how tim raced to fulfill thomas's every need. did no one see it? had bruce been the only one to see the true nature and depravity of his father?

....and now it was too late. tim was a full grown adult and no one would ever know about how long he'd been entangled with thomas wayne. no one aside from bruce who knew what his father had done.

and bruce had done nothing. nothing. and now he had to suffer in silence as he attended his father's birthday gala and the crowd cheered as thomas's lovely and dedicated nurse helped bruce's father blow out his candles.

bruce could say something.

he could call up vicki and ask if she wanted an exclusive. he could tell about that day, about the pill bottle that didn't go missing. he could talk about how he'd kept silent because he was a kid and seeing that had scrared him and he hadn't known who to tell or what to do but now he was older. that he'd kept his mouth shut because....because that was his father.

but now he was a father. a father with children and he knew what his father had done was wrong and he was ready to admit his wrongdoings in staying silent and expose his father's wrongdoings in doing what he did.

alfred and leslie would be devestated. dick, jason, and damian would be horrified.

tim...tim would...

bruce didn't know. he had no idea what tim would do. it'd been more than a decade since bruce had first seen them together and he had no idea how long they'd been...together since before bruce knew about them...

but...bruce couldn't keep silent anymore. he couldn't go on pretending everything was alright and fine when he knew it wasn't.

bruce had allowed his father to get away with things he shouldn'tve because he had been young but now...now he couldn't go on pretending like there wasn't something wrong.

like this guilt hadn't been weighing on his heart as much as what happened in that alley did.

i feel like tim gets an inkling of what bruce is going to do because unlike thomas he'd noticed bruce there that day. but bruce had never said anything- even when he'd become batman.

so tim realizing bruce is getting ready to say something is when tim takes it as his cue to seduce bruce who looks so much like the thomas wayne he loves...

#anonymous #asks #answered asks

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catgirl-catboy · 1 year

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My Kinji simpism made me overanalyse that ship to the point I have brain damage.

I certainly agree with you about Tsurugi's characterisation and I love Kinji's that character flaw so much I can't even explain it, he was gullible enough to believe the possibility of saving everyone like a.. kid and when you think about his free time events that paints a very disturbing scenario. I hate when some people address him as emotionally mature one.. He was certainly not and this is what makes his morals that morally gray and make his character interesting in the first place, like sure he is a smart one, I can't call him dumb or anything but the way he can't handle the emotions attracted the guilt and.. guilt attracts failure, his failure was certain when he felt the guilt about it and.. I remember he already believed he deserves to death.. Which is very very disturbing. Idiot Kinji, idiot

And I believe Kinji is the one who affected Tsurugi the most in the culprits, like my man legit can't comprehend his words, I sometimes imagine them as Lawlight in portrayal and it makes it even funnier.

And I start to fall for this ship in hand holding moment, their hand holding was made me remember "The kiss of betrayal." They should make out aggresively.

And how would you exploit him in a mlm scheme? I try to write a fic so I like to have some inspirations if it doesn't bother you

Kinji isn't emotionally mature, he just stifles his emotions and doesn't talk about them outside of maybe a religious context that we don't see in canon. I don't think his talent was very healthy to his emotional development, since its his job to console and advise others, so he puts his emotions aside. This is shown when he doesn't want to be in Kinjo's group and talk about his emotions with the rest of the cast! Objectively, I think thats a good decision, but he quite likely made it for the wrong reasons. Not to have Taka on the brain 24/7 (I plead guilty!) we could have had a similar dynamic with pre-sauna scene Ishimondo are we were robbed.

I feel like this dichotomy of logic vs emotions with Kinji is best put on display in his motive. On one hand, there's the logical explanation of the class trial being a trolley problem. Kill your classmates and/or maybe yourself to save a lot more people. This seems like a morally good act unless you are one of the classmates. But he's also not purely driven by logic either, because then he would have killed Kakeru and then confessed to minimize damage. Then again, I can't exactly blame him for having a healthy fear of death and I think its healthy for him to prioritize his emotions, this is just the one time its morally bad to do it.

As a Kinji fan, can I get your opinion on something? Do you think he still would have planned a murder if instead of his orphanage, it was a random orphanage of people that needed help? I wonder about that.

You are so right about Kinji affecting Tsurigi. He literally passed tf out in chapter 4 due to freaking out over his sense of morality being challenged. My 2 cents is that he likely wouldn't have come up with the idea for a suicide pact if Kinji's sacrifice wasn't painted as moral (or at least morally understandable) to a degree. When he sees Satsuki's selfish act in chapter 4, he realizes the mistakes Kinji's approach made and regrets his actions. Thats my 2 cents. I don't think Satsuki would have hit him had Kinji not already done the leg work.

Anyways, the whole Danganronpa Another game is one giant Saw Trap for Tsurugi and I stand by this.

I wouldn't exploit him into one, since I have morals and in an au where I didn't it'd make more sense to target a bunch of low value members than spend more time on one high value one. That being said, his desire to help people makes him not think things through. If I came off as genuine enough, I think I had a decent shot at convincing him so long as I can ward off any potential questions he has. It would also be beneficial to have someone in a position of powers because then he could unintentionally exploit his followers.

#ask tag #danganronpa another spoilers #crowtalks

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abglmnop · 2 years

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Past, Present & Future

I stumbled upon a video about relationships over TikTok, which made me realize something.

The video was all about " How would you know if you're with the right person?" and he then explained basically that every person you're in a relationship with was the right person at that moment. So there's no way you can definitely tell if it's right or wrong. They're in your life at that moment to either mold you, to be a chapter, or be your forever ----- And I agree.

As a 31-year-old, I haven't thought about it until now. I've been through a few kinds of relationships, and none were similar at all, to put it simply, I don't have a type, just lessons learned. and when I say few, I specifically mean 2. Both of which are long-term. I had 1 puppy love-- the kind of relationship you'd write about, so young and pure but nothing serious that lasted for a year or so.

Sure I've dated some but never really gotten in a relationship-- even a fling because I am a "date-to-marry" kind. I don't really believe in playing around 'cause for me, it's a waste of time and energy. Being in a relationship meant that we were supposed to build something for the future.

My puppy love (I don't consider him my first love ever since I've finally defined my personal meaning of love) was someone you'd typically read in books, an academic achiever with honors, a varsity, a student leader, a gentleman, he's from a well-off family and has pampered me ever since we started dating. He's generous-- showered me with gifts, showed great acts of service, was a knight and shining armor, someone who made me feel really safe&special. Everything was just pure and very romantic. I was young and that's what I expected about being in love was like. However, it all ended when I transferred schools and we broke up 'cause I wasn't physically there. I was in pain, and was longing for something; I got used to the treatment he gave me, and it left a mark.

The next relationship, started when I was just 15 & was the complete opposite of the previous. He wasn't the brightest, very naive, shallow, jealous, misogynistic, someone who isn't well off (money has never been part of the criteria), and has low self-esteem. I thought jealousy was a sign of "love" for over 5 years, I then realized that he wasn't just jealous, he was envious and controlling/manipulative. The relationship was quite draining, we always get into nonsense fights, he was secretive, and he gatekeeps his friends from me. He doesn't listen because I am a girl-- girls are psychopaths. He believes that girlfriends shouldn't be friends with their boyfriend's guy friends... - a misogynistic piece of shit. He'd also point out that I shouldn't be out drinking with my gay best friend 'cause he's still a "man". He can't be reasoned with and tends to "smart-shame" me every time I try to explain things to avoid conflicts. Again, the total opposite of the previous relationship I had. I was in love with the idea of being in love and thought finding someone who's "simple" might save me from conflicts & manipulation but boy, I was wrong. Eventually, I got tired, broke up with him for the nth time, permanently & moved on. Since he's stupid and immature, he thought it was just one of our breakups, and took him 4 months until he realized I wasn't really coming back and tried to reach out--- it wouldn't matter 'cause I was really done the moment I broke up with him; I ditched all modes of comms & blocked him in all soc med at that time (Facebook, Twitter, Multiply...)- I was dead-ass serious about leaving. I was so fed up & probably grew up too and realized I wasn't looking for just a relationship, I was looking for a partnership.

And then I met my current partner at the most unexpected time of my life when I wasn't really looking. This was 3-4 mos post-break-up. He was definitely older than I am, something that was really different from my previous relationships. I was aiming for someone who's mature enough to have meaningful discussions with but still fun to be with. Someone who understands how the world works. We built everything we have right now based on communication, strengthening whatever with have now through discussions, compromises, negotiation, and openness. He realized dishonesty, toxicity & deceit have done more harm for both of us rather than good.

We weren't perfect, and our relationship isn't perfect but right now, I believe we're perfect for each other. We are growing up together. Our differences -- the point of view, experiences, age & perspective taught us to be better versions of ourselves 10 years ago.

I date to marry. I don't play around. I am still a romantic and that's the only thing that's been the same in all of these relationships. I tend to break the cycle, in search of the right one. I never wanted to do the same mistakes twice hence the differences between these 3 individuals.

The past relationships were chapters that molded me to be the better version of myself for my present to be his future.

#personal #tumblelog #random #relatable #shower thoughts #this is me

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ihatebnha · 2 years

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how can you see bakugo maturing emotionally in his 20’s? do you think it’s just as difficult for him to open up to others? do you think he’d be a little more receptive to just the right person?

me when i get questions about bakugo: *screams so loudly i combust into dust and blow away*

Thank you for asking me such an interesting and lovely question, anon! I think about older!Bakugo a ton because I feel like... I often use him maturing as a vessel to make him do/act certain things in my concepts...

BUT!!! I definitely think he does eventually, so... I hope my thoughts aren't too off the mark for headcanons.

I'm actually too lazy to find it rn, but Ari wrote a great post about some of the fundamentals of Bakugo's personality... so I think what's important to keep in mind when it comes to this question is that a lot of his values/opinions/thoughts stay the same as he ages, but what does end up changing is how those ideals manifest.

For example, a younger Bakugo might yell at something he considers stupid... whereas an older Bakugo would still find the thing stupid, but just wouldn't engage with it at all unless it engaged with him first.

...if that makes sense?

In a more broad sense, I do think he's still his mean self in his 20s... but I also think that Bakugo gets tired of being so argumentative at some point, too. I think he's less prone to violent outbursts... which makes him appear more outwardly aggressive when he does speak, mostly due to the fact that he sits on most all of his grievances instead of voicing them.

I also think he's a lot more...🧍🏼‍♂️if you know what I mean...

When it comes to opening up to others, though... I do think he'd still be quite a tough nut to crack... however, I don't think becoming his friend would be too difficult. The weird thing about him is that as long as you're willing to tolerate him (as we see with Denki + Kiri), he's not actually a hard person to befriend in the first place. The issue(s) just arise AFTER, when it comes to getting even closer than just acquaintances and/or working around his schedule to make time for each other.

(One thing that is a bit difficult w/ him is that I only really see him meeting people he runs into... because he just isn't the type of person to go to events meant for socialization).

To just the right person though, yes! He would be more receptive... and I say that because I don't think being the right person means having a specific personality... just the patience to understand how he functions.

Bakugo is obviously someone who, I'm forgetting the proper terminology for this, but like... dances to the beat of his own drum (💀)? Which I think means he really just thrives around people who acknowledge that, and don't force him into situations that require more than he's willing to give.

(Like a kitty cat...)

SO, if you're patient enough with him, and understand that he spent his entire youth being angry only to grow up and realize that he has no social skills because of it... it's easy to be his friend (and more)!

#bakugo #bakugo thoughts #and i could talk about some probable scenarios of how u meet but ANOTHER TIME #ive forgotten them by now #but thank u again for asking anon #i hope this seems..... in character🥺🥺🥺#i do think bakugo gets a lot calmer as he ages. and then he opens his mouth and its a cuss word #or something LOL i would need to unpack more and focus specifically on that #but i wanted to answer ur questions first!!#ily for asking #kitty cats are my favorite animals #ask #anon #caitie chats

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xxxsoukokuxxx · 3 years

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Mori and Yosano's Relationship ft. Elise - Analysis

Analysis

Characters: Mori Ougai; Yosano Akiko; Elise

Warnings: Pedophilia (?); Dark themes; BSD Manga Spoilers (mainly chapters 65 & 66)

Notes: @jessbeinme15 Thanks for sending a request! I apologize for the long wait. You have made an interesting point and I never knew how interesting and dark the thing between Mori and Yosano is. So I was actually really excited to do this, and yes Elise does seem somewhat older during The Great War than what she is presently but more on that later in the analysis. Alright, let's do this!

______________________________________________

So we learn in Chapter 65 - 66 that Mori and Yosano had a past, and might I say a very dark, traumatizing one (for Yosano). The chapter starts off with Yosano flinging a chair towards Mori's direction in a fit of rage at Mori's 'plan' as he says that The Agency will split up and live out the rest of their days in hiding. Yosano believes he has no intention of saving them and thus says that his plan of "transferring someone from The Detective Agency" is practically a load of crap.

I partially think that Mori's only aim was to get Yosano back and work for him in the mafia, considering it'd be a real game changer (I'll explain how later on).

Mori's (unusual) Possessiveness Over Yosano and Similarities of This With Elise

14 Years ago prior to present events, it was near the end of The Great War. We meet 11-year-old Yosano and 26-year-old Mori, Yosano being a Military Hospital Scholarship Student and Mori an Assisstant Military Physician - First Class. It's clear already that Yosano is a feisty one and Mori...well he's Mori. There is panel straight after they are introduced where everyone (soldiers) cheer for her after she has healed them with her ability, 'Thou shalt not die'. And then there's this:

So it seems quite obvious that he is possessive of Yosano, calling her "My Yosano-kun" with a dark, threatening aura, which she disapproves of and argues she isn't something of his and threatens to bite his ear off. After Yosano's "brattyness" he becomes silent for a moment before:

In this panel some of us may see parallels between the way he treats and reacts to Elise now and 11-year-old Yosano then. He seems to find their behavior rather cute and endearing exclaiming that "This fortitude...it's amazing..." which of course Yosano finds weird. Mori seems to have been more successful in treating present Elise in such a way because Yosano, although having the same feisty nature, is a little different.

Yosano then sees a soldier (Tachihara's older brother) and a little conversation flows back and forth between them, Yosano saying that he should be back on the frontlines after being healed instead of "reading a novel". He expresses his gratitude by summoning a golden butterfly from the book of poetry he was reading and its placed as a hair clip on Yosano.

The soldier keeps on showing her his gratitude, calling her "Miss Angel" and he seemingly smiles a lot at her and at which we can see Mori disapproves of, a lot:

As I said, he is possessive of her, just as he is with Elise presently. Elise is Mori's ability, but if anyone ever dared to try anything with her I'm sure there would be dire consequences. Now we get to the part where Yosano (her ability rather) would be a real game changer in war and Mori's intentions.

How Mori Plans to Use Yosano as Game-changer to Fight Wars

I'm not sure whether it is canon or not if Mori is a pedophile but he does seem like one (he even says "he's weak to little girl's wishes"). This may be true but he also has a hidden agenda for Yosano.

Mori wrote an essay to the emperor on "An Immortal Regiment", in which it states that Yosano has an ability which can change the world (the world of war and game theory/strategies) , the European powers have realized that using ability users to fight wars is a game-changer, and that it's urgent that they prove the worth of that strategy to the top brass of their military to avoid falling behind.

Obviously, at this point of time in this chapter Yosano knows nothing about this and when Tachihara's older brother explains this she questions it and exclaims she's only come there to save lives, to which Mori holds her back.

And that's where we see Elise after Mori asks her to take them to the patients Yosano needs to heal, but the whole thing about Elise will be discussed under the next heading.

In short he plans to use Yosano or rather her ability to change how war works and later on we find out, to overthrow the previous Mafia Boss as well. As long as she was there, the soldiers would never be able to leave the battlefield no matter the mental trauma. It was their psychical self that mattered to Mori so that they can keep on fighting the war without any delays or retreat.

Fortunately enough, Fukuzawa saves her from this and Ranpo gives her a new hope.

Elise's Age During The Great War and Presently

I understand what you mean when you say she looks older during this war:

...compared to now. Perhaps Mori wanted her a bit younger, he can control her after all, however I am not certain if he can change her age. All I can say about this is that, yes she looks older and might I say much more mature during the great war but! I have something else to point out. Her eyes. They look...as if she is hypnotized, it seems to me that she is not acting out of her own will but rather Mori's complete control. And she even calls him "Master".

Conclusion

Overall the relationship Mori and Yosano have is pretty messed up. I feel Yosano holds resentment and a lot of held-back anger for Mori (she has every right to). While Mori only sees her as a mere pawn to use in a cold-hearted game of chess. First he wanted to use her as a pawn in his game-changing war strategies and such and then he wanted to use her as a pawn to overthrow the "King" or otherwise known as the Previous Mafia Boss.

And since he wants to get her back and work under him in the Mafia, he can fulfill what he previously wanted to do and it is the optimal solution to him. That's all I have and thank you for reading, I hope that this was clear and made sense. If there's anything I missed out feel free to tell me and I'll see what I can do.

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hotch-stufff · 3 years

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Fluff #8, Angst #5 and Fluff #43 with Gibbs, please. The reader is in her late 20s, Gibbs and her got into a fight because the reader isn't sure about the age gap and Gibbs is trying to push her away because he's afraid of letting her in

Hard To Believe

gif by dwayne-pride

Pairing: Gibbs x reader

Warnings!: angst, slight pining, making out, kissing, crying, but ofc a fluffy ending

Prompts: Fluff #8 “I realized something.” “What?” “I love you”, Fluff #43 “Is it so hard to believe that I love you?", Angst #5 “I love you” “No you don’t

Author's Note: I know its not quite how you described, kinda switched to where reader pushes him away. Hope you still enjoy!!

-------------

Loving Gibbs was easy. It was too easy. Too easy to fall for him. Too easy to look at him and allow your heart to flutter. To easy to feel butterflies every time he brushed your arm. That was the easy part.

The hard part was hiding it. Or figuring out if or when you would tell him. The hard part was pretending. Pretending you didn't care, pretending he didn't matter to you.

And you didn't even know if he would feel the same. You were, considerably younger, 13 years to be exact. And people would say things. You shouldn't care what people think, but it could ruin Gibbs reputation, and that you cared about. So you wouldn't tell him. You couldn't tell him. And that was the hard part.

You never expected a relationship. But you definitely didn't expect him to show up at your door and confess his own feelings.

It had been a rainy night, very cliche. He knocked repeatedly on your door until you finally answered. You were shocked to see him there, drenched. You invited him inside, and took his jacket, hanging it to dry. And he sat on your couch, silent per usual. You sat there for a while before speaking up.

"Soo, you gonna tell me why you're here?" You said, trying to start a conversation.

"I'm not sure what to do here." Was his only response. He looked nervous, which was strange for Gibbs. He wasn't a nervous person. He was always put together and confident. But he wasn't wither of those right now. He was slumped over, thinking hard. He was fumbling with his hands. He looked so ... vulnerable.

"Gibbs, whats wrong? What happened?"

"I just, I realized something."

"What?"

"I love you." The words were spoken clearly, and confidently. You were taken aback. Shocked was an understatement. Seconds ticked by, and silence filled the room. The only noise was the rain hitting your roof. He stared at you expectantly, waiting for some type of response.

"W-what?" Was all you could muster up. His face fell. "What do you mean? You're not serious. You can't be serious."

"Is it so hard to believe that I love you?" He asked, his voice was quieter. Gibbs didn't express his feelings often. He was opening up to you, allowing himself to be vulnerable. But you couldn't give in, could you?

"Yeah." He hadn't expected that. "Gibbs, your 13 years older than me, your my boss." He froze. You knew he had to have taken this into consideration. Why was it not enough to stop him?

"I don't care. I love you Y/n." You could feel the tears gather. You two couldn't be together. He had already been through enough in life, he didn't need the judgment that would come from being with you.

"Well, I dont feel the same." You said, your heart breaking a little bit with each passing second.

"Yes you do." He stood up angrily. "You do, but your avoiding them." You sighed.

"Gibbs-" he cut you off.

"No, you love me too. I know you do y/n. I know because everytime you look at me, its the same look that I'm giving you. You blush anytime we are near each other. You're always there to make sure that I'm okay." Gibbs didn't speak a lot. He was a functional mute, as they say. But he sure as hell was saying a lot now. Saying a lot of truth. A truth you couldn't allow to happen. So you lied.

"Those are all things a good employee does." You really tried to make it as convincing as you could.

"Employee, really?" He paused "Bullshit." He stood there waiting for your response. He only needed one more push and he would be gone. "Why won't you just tell the truth?"

"That is the truth Gibbs! This would never work between us!"

"What is it? That we work together?" You didn't move a muscle. "That I'm a closed off person." He paused. "Is it that I'm older than you?!" You flinched slightly and he knew that was it. You needed him gone before you ended up telling him that you loved him too. You knew exactly what to say to push him away.

"I don't love you Gibbs. I can't even trust that you would be with me long before moving on again." That did it. In that moment you forgot why you were pushing him away, especially after seeing the pain in his eyes. It was there for only a moment, before they went blank. His face following soon after. He nodded his head, and walked out, slamming the door.

And you fell to the floor in tears. You had to do it. You couldn't be together. You couldn't. It wasn't right. You were young, he needed someone older, more mature. Someone who wouldn't add to his baggage. Someone who wouldn't add on to everything he's been through. You couldn't be together.

These were the words you repeated to yourself as you cried yourself to sleep.

* * *

The next day was hell. The next week was hell. Everything sucked. Gibbs was on a rampage, pissed off and pissing off everyone else. He avoided you at all costs. The most he talked to you, was when he barked an order. You expected that.

What you didn't expect was the guilt. You thought you were doing the right thing. Pushing him away was the right thing to do. So why did you feel so bad? Why did a pang of guilt hit your heart evertime you looked at him.

Why were you filled with guilt everytime you saw the frown that adorned his face. Or everytime he snapped at Tony, Ziva, Tim, and even Abby. The guilt was consuming you to a point that you could barely bare seeing him. You had been trying not to hurt him, but he was in more pain now that he would have been had you told him the truth.

Would it really be so bad? To love him. To be with him. You couldn't remember why you didn't tell him you loved him in the first place.

You had to tell him. If he never forgave you, that would have to be something you lived with. But you had to explain. You had to tell him the truth.

So this time, it was you showing up at his house. His open door policy was something you were grateful for because you aren't sure if he would have just slammed the door in your face had you knocked.

You found him in the basement, sanding away at a boat. A glass of Bourbon sitting on the bench. He looked ... bad. Tired and angry. You hated that it was all because of you.

"Gibbs." He spun around, glaring at you.

"The hell are you doing here." You gulped and took a step forward.

"I uh, I came t-to apolagize." You stuttered out.

"Get out." He barked at you.

"Gibbs, wait please." You begged. You would get on your hands and knees and beg if you needed to. You had to tell him.

"What?"

"I love you."

"No you don't." He didn't believe you. It wasn't surprising, you wouldn't have believed yourself either after everything you had said. So you began explaining, pouring everything out.

"Yes I do. So much. I know what I said was, awful and so wrong on so many different levels. And I'm sorry, I know you hate apologies, but I'm sorry. I was scared. I'm so much younger than you and I thought people would judge you. And I know its stupid, but I didn't want that to be another thing you had to go through. I didn't want to ruin your reputation. You carry enough baggage as it is, with the job and just everything. I couldn't add my own baggage to that. But this past week has been hell without you, and it makes me forget everything. You make me forget. And so I'm so sorry Gibbs, because I DO love you. I love you so fucking much." He let you finish your little speech, remaining silent.

And he stood there remaining silent for a good 5 minutes, before he was marching forward and slamming your lips together.

It had taken you aback, and you faltered slightly, allowing him to press you up against the boat. He pressed into you, lips moving together passionately. His nose bumping yours, your hair falling in your face. He lightly moved it away before deepening the kiss. His tounge fighting for dominance. You gave it to him with a small moan. You could barely focus on anything other than him. The kiss ... it was more than you could have ever imagined. And man had you imagined this moment. You had wanted this for so long.

"You're so stupid." He said, breaking away and pressing his lips down your neck.

"I know." He smiled against you, and bit down slightly on your skin. You let out a surprised gasp, and his lips were back on yours.

"I love you." You spoke against his lips. He pulled back so that just your noses were touching.

"Love you too." And he kissed you again, and again, and again. Leaving you with a night you would never forget.

-------------

Loved writing this. Let me know what you think!! Thanks for reading! Requests are still open, so ask away! If you would like an idea of what to request, here is my prompt list, and if you would like to read more of my work, here is my masterlist.

#ncis gibbs #gibbs imagine #jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs #gibbs x reader #ncis x reader #ncis imagine #ncis #imagine #angst #fluff #reader insert

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beetsandskzreads · 3 years

Text

silent bright summer night

bang chan x gn!reader, y/n works with skz and became their friend (the ultimate dream haha)

genre: tooth-rotening fluff, slight angst with a happy ending

notes/warnings: nothing intense, this is very fluffy, there's brief mentions of cheating, long distance, y/n's exes, fear of abandonment, slight insecurities, deep talks, reader and chan are slightly wine drunk, y/n and chan are whipped, y/n makes it explicit they want to date someone very warm and caring (aka chan), i don't think that's a warning tho djsjs just saying

scenario: on a balcony, at a beach apartment on a summer night of vacation, y/n opens up to chan about their past and current lovers. what y/n doesn't know is why chan is so interested listening to it.

It was 1:01 am when chan and I found ourselves in the balcony that overlooked the city and it's bright lights on a summer night. Skz had gone to sleep right after all of us came back from a night out of lots of fun, buying stuff on stores by the beach, having ice cream, seeing the view of the city lights reflecting on the sea water, appreciating street artists...

The two of us had been talking the whole evening, we hung out as a group but mostly just spoke to each other and laughed at the members jokes, both of us having a sparkle in our eye every time we saw the group happy. There was this unspoken pleasantness, a bliss, calmness in the air but with a lot of excitement. Chan was so happy to be around the sea with "the kids" as he refers to them and being at the beach almost 24/7 this week, it was like his natural habitat, his home, a comfort place. It left you feeling even softer for him, and as you shared your love for the sea, your feelings were at a peak. You liked Chan, and you loved this place as much as he did.

The night was so great, everyone was out like a lightweight as soon as we arrived to the vacation apartment we're in. Chan and I were testing the theory that a glass of wine would help us get drowsy and help us fall asleep as well, since we both have trouble falling asleep and felt nothing but a remaining excitement from the night out. It came to me especially because of the enthusiasm of talking to him, we were connecting so well, I didn't want this to ever end.

And so we drank (one glass quickly becoming the whole bottle) and we talked for what felt like hours on end, that neither of us wanted to cease.

- My ex best friend, she never quite knew how to choose guys, she always went for the ones that would never turn her way, the ones who obviously wouldn't care about her, not because of her, but because they were really careless guys, walking red flags. - I told him, I couldn't remember where exactly the conversation started but we were talking about nice people picking shitty people to date.

- What about you? - he asked

- Me? I barely even like guys, I mean I do, but I'm really picky actually, I don't allow myself to fall for cold people, I wouldn't forgive myself if I took interest in someone rude, I try so hard to take care of myself so I either stay alone that way or I find someone who makes me feel better, who knows how to take care of me, after all we chase happiness, I think a caring person could do that, someone gentle who isn't scared of emotions or who at least is open to face that fear with me by their side.

- I get it, it's hard to get by if you don't have emotional support, a partner should be able to provide that support, yeah. Did you ever... find someone like that?

- Yeah, in the past I did and even now I do know someone more than ideal... I guess my ex partners when I was young were going through a soft phase tho... I guess everyone has an emotional limit they were scared to cross... once I found that barrier the relationship stoped evolving, reached a dead end and so there was nothing left for me anymore and I left, plus, you know, cheating, long distance, a bunch of stuff really... it wasn't meant to be and I'm okay with that.

- What about that someone right now?

Silence ruled for about 3 seconds before I knew what to say. That someone right now is him. Ever since I've known him feels like he's the only man ever, but I don't think I'd tell him that, not soon anyways.

- What about 'em?

- What's that person like? What makes you trust they're any different from your exes?

- Sometimes I fear they're not, but I set the bar really high and I reset it constantly, to make sure I'm seeing it right, sometimes they seem so perfect to me that I wonder what good have i done in my past life to deserve to be around such a bright person. Of course they make mistakes too, but even the way they deal with them is so... mature, it's so easy to just solve things communicating, it's insane to me. Then I remember it's probably because they're eventually gonna leave me too, or just not reciprocate my feelings and after they break my heart I'll probably loose all hope in love, be heart broken for two years until I decide I'm gonna focus on myself again... it's a cycle after heartbreak, but with this person I'm really scared, because they mean more. I'm way too deep in before I've even expressed my feelings, it's gonna be devastating. - I'm rambling, the wine made me do it.

- What makes you think they wouldn't like you back tho?

- I'm not sure I just... it would be too good to be true and it's complicated... he's amazing and I'm just not sure if he'd be into me, I mean, I think I'm lovable and I think I'd be a great lover, I just don't know if I'm his type or if he'd consider me. We have a bit of an age gap, I'm not someone who's typically pretty or specially good looking, I have my charms but I have no idea if that's enough for him to be in love. It's complicated with each others work too... - I notice chan's gaze on me, he has his head leaned on his hand on the table and he's looking at me with bright eyes, eyes that look tired and a little drunk but somehow, he manages to look at me in a way that makes me feel adored, I don't know why you have to make me feel so much love, Bang Chan - Why are you looking at me like that?

- You have no idea how other people perceive you, do you? - he ignored your question, probably because of his drunk-ish drowsy state - Everyone I know likes you, see, you're a naturally kind and caring person, you're attentive to people's needs, you make sure everyone feels comfortable around you... that's so appreciated by everyone. I think you're exceptional y/n, you have this charismatic way of existing, a refreshing and comfy presence everyone can feel, but to me... it feels like home. You feel like home y/n. So... I have no idea who that person is but I sure as hell know they'd be more than lucky to have you as a partner and they're definitely dumb if they let you go.

- Are you dumb? - my heart's pounding quicker as I'm about to do something I didn't plan on doing ever.

- Huh? No, why w-

- Because that person is you... I like you, Chan. In a more-than-friends way - I interrupt him quickly before I lose my newly found courage.

Chan could've sworn his heart stopped for a few seconds. Suddenly sobriety hit him like a truck. It was the alcohol that made you say that, he thought, but he wished it was true and you didn't drink enough to be lying about this kind of stuff, you had a full on conversation and you seemed pretty sober.

- Y-y/n are you sober? - he tries to navigate through the situation.

- Oh my... yeah I am, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything, it just rolled out of my tongue. I'm sorry... - you said as you panicked and tried to go back inside, regret filling up all your organs.

"I messed up" your brain keeps repeating as desperation starts entering your body, until Chan grabbed your hand, stopping you from leaving.

- Wait! You don't need to apologize, I'm glad you told me... You didn't think I'd say all that about you if I didn't like you as well, did you? - he asks suggestively.

- I don't know - you blush as you realize what he's getting at - You're just so nice to everyone, I didn't make a big deal out of it.

- Well, you should've made it a big deal, the biggest deal actually because I've been trying really hard to show you how I feel these past few days and you were so clueless I thought you were purposefully ignoring the signs because you didn't like me back.

- I'm sorry Channie, I just didn't want to assume stuff and get heartbroken if it wasn't true.

-Well it is true, so you don't need to worry anymore. I really like you too, y/n. And I've wanted to say it for a while too, I was just wondering if it was a good idea since you work with us, but I can't contain my feelings anyways... you always treat me so softly and you look after the kids really well... It just feels like you were made to be by my side, you're the embodiment of the person I've always dreamed to be with, and these past few days with the kids and you... it just felt like we were the perfect family you know? I don't think I could be without you by my side anymore... - he stops, he's been staring at your eyes the whole time and now they're starting to water.

How could you not cry when he's saying the things you thought you'd only ever hear in dreams?

- Why are you crying sweetheart? - he whispered, as he wipes a tear with his thumb, the other hand holding your hand as he stands closer every second.

- It's just... I'm so... happy - you smile through your tears - I'm so happy to hear that, you said it in such a beautiful way too... I feel exactly the same, it's like I've gained a family with you guys but you... I've grown really attached to you, feels like some parts of you are tangled in my heart in ways I couldn't tear apart if I wanted to... I'm drawn to you and when I'm with you it's comfortable, blissful, it's right. You're so good to me, it's unbelievable, but it's true, and it warms my heart. - you say as your foreheads touch and your smile grows, his eyes showing so much adoration for you, you could melt.

Suddenly you share your first kiss together, a soft yet passionate mix of sensations, and it felt like everything you ever felt around Chan but better.

You stare into each other's eyes, smiling like the little lovely goofballs you both were, noses touching, ocasional little pecks filled with giggles because you were whipped for each other.

- So this means we're exclusive lovers now, yeah? - he asks with a blushing face, a very silent giggle and a huge, uncontrollable smile.

- Definitely, yeah - you answer biting your lip until eventually you let out the largest smile you ever had.

Needless to say, you didn't leave that balcony to go to sleep that evening. In fact, you two watched the sunrise kissing and cuddling, talking about the feelings you had for each other, when they started, why you liked each other, covered by a blanket, not wanting to let go of each other now that you were openly romantic.

Han found you both sound asleep, you on chan's lap, head on his neck as his arms wrapped around you gently, on a chair in the middle of the morning. He obviously called all the members to watch you two as they assumed you two finally got together. All of them saw it coming, Chan wouldn't shut up about you and had written what could be an entire album about you.

They were happy at least you'd be around more often to cook your delicious food. And you both blushed really hard once you woke up to lot's of teasing from the kids, it was fine tho, you liked it just like this, it was home.

#skz fluff #chan fluff #bang chan scenarios #bang chan oneshot #bang chan imagine #bang chan fluff #stray kids oneshot #stray kids fluff #bang chan angst #chan angst #skz oneshots #skz angst

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vannybarber · 3 years

Text

The Prenup: Part Three

Summary: After four years of being together and finally being engaged, Chris wants you to sign a prenup.

Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, chris getting his ass handed to him, a lot of pain.

Part One Part Two

After Chris' little sob moment, he got his shit together and went back to where his family was. There was no way he was going to get you back crying like a baby when he was at fault. He needed to fix this, but you had to be on board in order first

He sits back on the couch, his mother and siblings not even realizing he entered the room, for they were having their own squabble. Scott's voice being the loudest out of everyone of course.

He sees his phone and goes to grab it. Carly notices him and speaks up.

"Chris is there anywhere you think she could be? Any place you guys have gone that's sentimental or something?" She's trying her best, but it wasn't enough. For all Chris knew, you could've been in numerous places. Everywhere you went was special.

When you both aren't working, you're on an adventure after another. You both loved to explore and were the perfect partners for each other to do it. You guys had traveled everywhere.

"I have no idea. I really fucked up and I don't even know where to begin to fix this" he breathes out, voice wavering gradually at every word. "Why do I always do this?"

It's Lisa's turn to speak up. "Do what?"

"Why do I always sabotage everything good in my life? Specifically love. It's like whenever it gets too good to be true, I back away. This time, I decided to wait four years to mess this up."

"Chris," Shanna calls. "You have a good woman." She pauses. "A great woman. She has put up with your shit and gave up so much to be with you. That's exactly what you wanted. Someone to really prove their love for you and she did that. You cannot go back on that now."

"Look how that's going." Scott doesn't fail to add a snarky remark.

"Scott I'm not going to tell you again. Quit it." Lisa barks and pops the back of his head. Scott goes silent.

"Okay but what if I messed up for good this time?" He looks up and straight at Shanna. "I have never seen her like this. I don't think anyone has ever hurt her this bad before." And he was right. You'd never experienced this much emotional pain before and the love of your life is to blame.

"Well you don't know that unless you find out. You can't just sit around here and feel sorry for yourself because believe it or not, you have no reason to." Shanna is completely right. Now it was up to Chris. But first he needed to figure out where you were.

He grabs his phone and goes to your contact. He finds you and clicks. All your info pops up and he debates on whether he should call or message. As he's deciding, his eyes wander lower to the location box. He sees your icon on the map.

His mouth opens, but nothing leaves it. Your location was on. It had been on the entire freaking time.

"Chris what's wrong?" Lisa walks over and the kids perk up.

"Y/N's location has been on all this time. I can see where she is now!" He clicks your icon and waits for it to load. A little hope has risen inside of him. One step closer.

"Well this is good. Now you can go to her. I just hope she doesn't want to kill you when she sees you." Shanna scratches the back of her neck because she knows what you're capable of.

Last year, your sister's boyfriend was messing around with your cousin's girlfriend and it got exposed at the dinner table infront of everyone.

Chris and his family had been invited and everything was going great. But then one of your other cousins decided to start some mess and pointed out how it was so strange that they were so close and always hung out together. They weren't wrong either.

Turns out they've been hooking up behind their backs for a while and all hell broke loose. Your sister and cousin are both very sensitive people. Their feelings get hurt fast and this absolutely tore them to pieces. That pissed you off and you went straight for the girlfriend. Then you went for the boyfriend but only got a kick to the spleen before Chris snatched you up.

She went to the hospital with a broken nose and dislocated jaw. The boyfriend had pain in his spleen for weeks on end. You apologized to the Evans' for your riveting hospitality, but Scott backed you up and stated that 'you did what you had to do'.

From that day forward, they did not get on your bad side. But you'd never hurt them. You had a great relationship with all of them. Something rare with in-laws. But not the Evans'.

Your location finally loaded and you were pinned at the Liberty, almost an hour from where you guys lived. Chris didn't even need to ask himself why you were so far away. He knew why.

"Okay I found her. She's at a hotel about about an hour away. Who knows what she'll do next, so I need to go right now." He moves to get his jacket and shoes. Slipping them on he grabs his keys and heads out the door, yelling an 'I'll be back soon' just before closing it.

Pregnant, tired, once again and alone. This should not be the case. You should be at home with your fianceé discussing how you'd break the news to your families about your new addition. But instead, there you are eating Domino's and binge watching the first and only season of a new show you found to get your mind off of things.

Its about a district attorney who's son had been found as a suspect for the murder of his schoolmate. What didn't help was the fact that the father, Andy Barber, looked almost identical to Chris. And the way Andy would interact with his son had you thinking about how he would react to your little surprise.

Would he be happy? Would it be too much for him? Seeing that you guys had just now got engaged after 4 years, you didn't see him too excited to add a baby in just yet. You hadn't even gotten married. Not to mention you just pushed that off the table.

You got your mind racing again, so you turned off the show and just sat quietly, succumbing to your thoughts. First, you guys needed to solve your problem before you tell him anything of the current events. Should you call him and tell him to come over? How were you gonna approach him?

Staying mad was off the table as soon as you saw the pregnancy results. You had to be mature for your new family. That meant pushing aside your anger and solving this prenup issue. Then you'd tell him about the baby. You just needed the chance.

And your chance had arrived when Chris pulled up to the parking lot of the hotel. Your icon was still at the location. He rushed to get out and inside, heading to the front desk.

"Hi! Is a Y/N Y/LN checked in here?" His fingers tap the counter in anticipation. The clerk is taken aback but checks the computer infront of him anyway.

"Uh, no sir there isn't anyone here by that name." The clerk shook his head and looked back up at him. Chris sighs and thinks. An idea comes to his head. It doesn't sound reasonable, but he had to at least try it.

"Okay um..how about a Y/N Evans?" The clerk looks back at the computer and types.

"Yes! There's a Y/N Evans in room 263 on the 3rd floor." Chris' heart leaped. You used his last name. After all that went down, you still went by his last name. He was gaining hope by the minute.

"She's my fianceé. Is there a way I could have a key to her room? It's super important" he begged.

"Well we're not allowed to give room keys out randomly. It's policy. But I could call up to confirm with Ms. Evans, if you'd like?" Chris accepted the offer, but not before correctly the clerk to calling you Mrs. Evans.

You jump slightly when you hear the phone ring. You stretch your arm and pick it up from the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Hi Mrs Evans! I have a-"

There was a pause before he continued,

"Mr. Evans down here at the lobby that wants to see you. Should I send him up?"

You swear in that exact moment all the saliva in your mouth dried up and your mouth was sealed shut. He had found you and and wanted to see you. But how? Anyways, you had to face him sooner or later. You freaking live together and you can't stay at that hotel forever.

"Mrs. Evans? Are you alright?" You snap out of your immobile state and clear your throat.

"Um..yes. You can send him up." You scold yourself for not putting up a bigger fight. But what for? It would only make shit worse than it already was.

"Alright ma'am. He'll be up shortly."

"Okay thank you." You quickly slam the phone on the receiver and let your body hit the mattress. Well, there's no turning back now.

You don't know how long you were laying there, but it couldn't have been long because you heard a knock at the door. You shoot up and stare at it.

Another knock.

"Y/N?"

You move your body towards the door taking a deep breath. You can do this Y/N. Get it together. This is Chris for goodness sake.

You turn the knob and pull the door back, Chris coming into view staring right back at you.

"Hi baby."

pls- this dramatic ass ending 😭 this was gonna be the last part, but dialogue/ just kept coming at me as I was writing 🥴.

tags:

@flattykawa1 @mayafatimakhan @attitude-times @shawn-youth @traceyaudette @fantasticinternetpizza @kyraroseficreblogs33 @radi0active-thoughts @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl @ohbarracuda @katelyneannxo @jennamarieee623 @nicochantez @craycraycraic @ilikeurdad @ppal3 @captainson-of-coul @joanne-stan @ilovetheeagles @cristinagronk16 @kelbabyblue @onyourgoddamnleft @jessycatth @misz-adrii @geminievans1 @saltyflowermakertaco @a-moment-captured @harrysthiccthighss @greatbatprofessordragon @dauntless2022 @f12sfm @allboutdatmarvel @ineedpineapple @illyrianprincess @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @rubyztimetobeme @marianas-studyblr @icycheerleader @obliviatevamps @thevelvetseries @coffeebooksandfandom @shamelessfangirl-3 @quietmyfearswith @jennmurawaski13 @kissme-hs @lvgllre @secretmysteriousperson @arabescapr

#cevans #chris evans #avengers #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #andy barber smut #steve rogers smut #captain america #chris evans fluff #chris evans smut

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sardonicallys · 3 years

Text

𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸, 𝗻𝗼 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆 | 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗻𝗲

mobile masterlist | web masterlist

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: Jaebeom + Female!Reader

𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: Corporate AU, Mature, Smut, Angst, Enemies to Lovers

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: Cursing, sexual content, mentions of trauma

𝗦𝘆𝗽𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: You don't like to think of the word "workaholic" as an insult, but rather as a title of prestige. Everything you have accomplished in your career has been reflected as a glimmering treasure in your trophy case that doted on your work ethic and undying tenacity to put your best effort in everything you have involved yourself in. When you're transferred to what feels just a step away from a demotion, rewritten as an opportunity to "help" the new CEO, you find yourself in a predicament when you realize he's an unbearable nuisance.

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 7,946

𝗔𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲: I haven't written anything and posted for many moons, I feel so out of place. Enjoy.

In most scientific experiments — particularly chemical ones — the expression "precision over accuracy" reigned over the conducted research, for the purpose of retaining the proper prestige that came only with the robotic and recycled theories of a mechanical process. Taking into account the possible inaccuracies that only human variables could create, focusing on precision would eliminate most — if not all — of the blank shots that could warp results. With deft, calculated movements, you humbly thought of yourself similarly, someone who acted as a piston amongst a well oiled machine. Your process was methodical and it made sure your results embodied the effort you took to keep every step precise.

In other words, you did your job, and you did it well.

Maybe, too well.

The sudden sensation of the dulled nail of his thumb digging deeper into the slope of your bare hip, sinking a bruise into your skin, caused you to jolt. You weren't entirely sure whether you impulsively gripped his wrist to indicate and warn him of the the sudden force he applied, or because you instinctively wanted to touch him again and weren't coherent enough to know exactly where you wanted to place your touch.

It would be a lie to say he's not drunk, but he's not quite sure on what exactly. Maybe the overflowing alcohol that spilled over his fingers as he caught each pour for himself, and inevitably, you. But he could have sworn that the bergamot and jasmine he drank from the valley of your collarbone was intoxicating him in an entirely different manner, his uneven panting annoying him as his throat grew dry and sprung its ricochetting echo into the dampened pounding that formed at the back of his skull that matched the rhythm of his hips meeting yours. So he sunk his teeth into your skin to exchange his ragged breathing for your own.

Regardless of every overthought prose that he's versed out in the compounded hazy pink matter that sloshed in between his slurred, desiring words, he was drunk. And he kept asking himself what he was doing, why he was doing this. And the answer came to him, over and over, in the form of the vertices of your fingertips, luring him back as he felt your nails carve into his skin.

Ah fuck it.

And his tongue splayed over your neck, licking a stripe right up along your pulse and towards the juncture of your jaw. Giving your hip a squeeze, he managed to articulate himself the best he could amongst the various obstacles that kept him from clearly expressing the eloquence he would much rather have, "...You feel so good."

What could you say? You did your job, and you did it well.

“It’s a good deal, sure you’re losing that title, but you’ll be working directly for the main CEO,” clearing his throat, Mr. Lee — your soft spoken supervisor of two and a half years — gently pushed a bleached packet towards you from across his desk. The scrape of the envelope skidding along the vinyl finished mat gripped at your chest, your eyes wandering desperately along the uncreased plane in search of something you weren't quite sure existed. At least not in a tangible sense. It felt as sterile as your hostility, simply allowing the careful steps of your career to crumble and sift through your fingers in a hasty effort to replace it with this makeshift offer of opportunity.

Your silence was all too telling to your superior who guided and observed your pristine work ethic, “This is just a branch, even being a janitor at the main office has more prestige than any of us here!”

Silence.

Mr. Lee spoke your name gently as you pressed your lips into a tight line, teeth sinking deeply into the flesh to encase the expression as you scoured to find the words to say, “…May I ask why I’m being transferred?”

Finally lifting your gaze to meet your superior’s, riddled with absolute hesitation and your own increasing impatience from the lack of response. Clearing his throat when your sharp expression finally seared through his last defense, he began stuttering, “I need you to keep this between us because we have taken every precaution to protect this information from any unnecessary…Talk.”

You simply nodded, a gesture to have the disclaimer sped up rather than with promise and understanding. Mr. Lee continued, his tone shifting an octave down as his volume diminished, “As you recall, last month, CEO Im suffered a sudden and unfortunate passing. However, he had specific directions for his stepson to take over his position. Whether that was meant for the future, as we did not expect his untimely death, or if this situation was accounted for, there is no way to interpret it other than properly following his wishes.”

“And what does that have to do with me?” Interrupting through a breath but without cutting him off, you gently reached for the envelope while carefully pressing the prongs together and releasing the flap to inspect the documentation. Your well manicured fingernails slipped into the gap, retrieving the glossy sheets as your eyes analyzed the words and each contingency they passed.

Clearing his throat once more, he shifted in his chair before straightening his jacket — a fidgeting habit he had whenever he was in a situation where he struggled to find the proper verbiage to express himself, “…They saw you as the perfect fit to—”

Before he could finish, your eyes landed on the bolded new title that you would receive once you decided — accepted? Did you have a choice? — the position, which garnered frustration and anxiety to crawl up your throat and before you realized it, the words flew out your mouth like daggers against a board, “Secretary?!”

The disbelief strewn across your features had your superior speechless, apologetic, and absolutely mortified by the intimidation that dripped and radiated from you. Though it was mid-afternoon, sun perched high against the periwinkle canvas and melting through the windows to paint the inner walls of Mr. Lee's office, he could have sworn he felt you drink every last drop of light in the room.

“I know this isn't— I know it’s not necessarily a lateral transfer, but since you’re an operations manager—” “I’m giving up the successes and accomplishments of digging this godforsaken branch out of the hole it was in to deliver coffee and schedule meetings to some incompetent imbecile?” Mr. Lee flinched at the calm demeanor you held, your tone barely bubbling over as your words started to fire out quicker than before.

“…They,” he cleared his throat once more, “The board, wants you to train him because—” You ignored every word Mr. Lee attempted to comfort you with, “Someone who wasn’t even born to Mr. Im living a privileged life. I wish I was as fortunate.”

Honestly, you could barely register the words leaving your mouth. But who could blame you? You took pride in the streamlined efficiencies you carried through your innovation as an entry level sales operations analyst, and you quickly proved that your processes were better matched at a higher position. Two years later and without any difficulty, you climbed your ranks with precision and were just a step shy away from directing the entire department at your branch. Sure, it was simply an extension of the main company, but you took pride in everyone below and above you at your office, something you couldn't necessarily assure elsewhere.

“Well, he comes from the late CEO Im’s wife, and he had adopted him…” the mumbling didn’t cease as you continued on, “Imagine thinking I would want to leave all of this behind to follow behind and pick up after some silver spoon orphan. Ha!"

Mr. Lee and you were engaging in two entirely different conversations, mostly as you spoke to yourself and your supervisor — soon to be ex supervisor — attempted with his best speech to damage control all your troubles about the transfer.

“Well," he changed into formalities as he uttered your last name with clarity, in hopes it would hold your attention, "They want you to train him with his duties."

It did, “The board wants me to what?”

"They want you to—"

"Then have the operations manager at the main branch teach him," the apathy that leaked and wove between your words as your back met the support of your chair finalized your attitude about the situation, your shoulders shrugging before your tipped your head to the side.

"...Like I said, you're losing the title, but I promise it's a good deal," in an even quieter voice, one just faint of a whisper, Mr. Lee spoke with desperation, "The pay is higher, it's the main branch. I recommended you myself. I know you're perfect for the job."

You weren't sure if you were supposed to feel pity for your supervisor, attempting to provide you with reason to this whole situation or if you were insulted by the fact that it seemed he really did not know you at all. Tongue over teeth, you swallowed the maniacal laughter that threatened to seep through your lips as you placed the envelope onto the desk, "...When am I supposed to start?"

"Next week," Mr. Lee knows by your tone that you aren't the least bit convinced, so he clears his throat again before going for his last attempt, "...There's room to grow, and if you are at the main office, you will definitely be in favor if there is a position open. I assure you. First in line."

They're not magic words, they're barely comforting to you, but you take them because you know your alternative is to leave and start over entirely from scratch. Was this quite that different? You weren't sure. Biting back every last ounce of pride, you simply nodded — this time with understanding — as you soundlessly scoot your chair back, bowed, and departed.

That was the last time you were in that office.

Tracing his hand down your inner thigh, his rough fingers left imprints of hazy memories ablaze as the sensation bloomed over your skin. Thumb meeting the bundle of nerves that held your arousal, he applied just enough pressure for you to tilt your head back and let a moan escape, contorting as he moved in a clockwise pattern. He's drowning in sensations, from the elongated welted crescents all across his skin, to the scent of your muddled perfume mixing between the perspiration in the forgotten scenery of some unnamed room, mesmerized as the circumference of his cock that pushed into you stretches perfectly around him with each thrust. You have him drenched, and the unintentional squeezes of your indicative pleasure had his eyes rolling back.

"Don't do that," he exhaled hard through gritted teeth as your half lidded eyes managed to find his, a cheshire grin tracing over your mouth, "Why? Don't you wanna cum?"

With that, he realized almost instantly that he had sobered up once you both excused yourselves from dinner, even long before the walk towards the station and now, with complete confidence, he definitely had been drunk off you. Gripping your jaw just beneath your chin, he squeezed the plush material of your cheeks as you pursed your lips in a joking manner. Pushing his thumb into your mouth, you swirled your tongue over to tease him.

The winding in your core dwindled near it's last rotation as your erratic breathing became more evident, hips squirming against him, thighs shaking as one of his hands held your legs apart. You refused to give in first, however, so you simply grit your teeth as you refocused your attention to how he rowed his hips with careful precision. Somehow he managed to sheathed his entire length inside of you without missing an inch, and pulling out almost entirely only to return and leave you breathless. You clench hard around him, threatening silently that you were the one in control.

Removing his wet thumb from your mouth, he pressed it right back up against your clit as his ministrations were now more pressured and intense as to combat your attitude from refusing to listen to his request. Almost immediately, you felt the snap and all you could do was gasp, sucking in every ounce of oxygen your lungs had allowed before feeling your climax crash right into you, "Fuck! Jaebeom!"

"Hey," two gentle slaps on your cheek, and he suddenly grabbed your jaw again as you writhed beneath him, a feeling of vertigo practically encapsulating your vision, "Thought you said you were gonna be professional? Stick with "Mr. Im"."

Tongue in cheek, you quickly felt the high of your orgasm diminish with his arrogance, and he must have been good at reading your actions by now because before you even had the chance to retort his hand was wrapped around your neck. Pressing against the outer columns, he held your breathing all with one hand as his pace intensified, fucking into you as you were reminded of your climax just seconds ago. The overstimulation had your knees attempting to snap shut, a gurgled and agonized moan attempting to crawl out of your throat.

"Nuh uh, it's my turn," he hushed you in a crooning manner as his grip on your waist assured you that there would be a mark later. Chanting curses that seemed like a spell, he lasted no longer than another breath before he pulled out and released both your neck and himself, spilling over your abdomen.

"And here is your desk," the representative from human resources gestured towards the desolate furniture paired with a lonely matching chair as you gave your best customer service smile before being dismissed. Orientation was an absolute blur, formalities at best, to describe what your role had implied — at least on paper — and the administrative process was more or less the same in all departments. Not that you belittled this work, secretarial staff was indeed necessary and a core component to the corporate hierarchy however, being that you felt your skills could have been honed much better elsewhere, you couldn't help but feel deflated even after your first day. It didn't help the amount of socialization you had been invited to engage in, much to your distaste. Smoothing your navy chiffon dress, you adjusted the hem length to give weight against the way it rode up from when you toured the building before investigating the lone mouse, keyboard, and dual monitor screens that sat untouched at your new desk. Glancing down at your watch, you noted that Mr. Im should be back from his lunch break, signaling the meeting that was scheduled for you two to become acquainted. As if on cue, the bellowing steps of the CEO's stepson beckoned from the elevator down the hall, as a well suited and broad figure strode out of the compartment with his pockets tucked into his slacks.

Punctual, at least.

Accessorized with a rather young face, pomade slicked back dark hair, you were surprised that he was appointed to take over such a large scale conglomerate — he looked like he had barely graduated from whatever flashy international university's business program he must have attended on daddy's money. But rather than chastise him further — you would have more than enough time to do so that night over a bottle of wine and your own company — you let your saccharine grin drip from your lips before bowing towards him as he neared your desk and towards the glass french doors at the opposite end of the hall.

"Hello Mr. Im, starting today I will be your new secretary. I hope we can become well acquainted," as you straightened back out, you flinched as you saw the deadpan expression in the CEO's stepson's eyes, his expression stoic and rather blank. Mildly surprised at this response, you continued with your speech you memorized and prepared to present, "I was given your schedule but wanted to go over a few nuances with you to confirm—"

"Just e-mail them to me," and without a single look back, he strode into his office as the dulled sound of the frame clasped the door into place. You had never received this amount of disrespect in your career, not from the retail jobs you juggled through college, not from your superiors through the unpaid internships you haphazardly took up, not even from the individuals that loathed you from the branch office that purposely threw you under during sales calls. You weren't expecting a formal tone, but at the very least, you expected to be looked at when spoken to. And especially not to be looked at like some small, feeble, insect by someone who only gained their position through privilege and water of a womb. Inhaling deeply, you held your breath in as you counted quietly, eyes closed to calm yourself before you trailed towards the double doors, clutching a three ring binder filled with the notes you intended to sort. Knocking your knuckles gently, though you could see he was on the phone and turned towards the floor to ceiling windows on the opposing side of the entrance, you allowed yourself in before catching a bout of words that were being spoken into the receiver, "...I thought I asked for a male secretary?"

Balling your fingers into a fist, your nails burrowing into your palm, it took everything in you not to completely dissect the misogynistic bigot that languidly rotated his chair around to lazily look up at you — in half surprise and half disgust — and turn him into a med school anatomy demonstration.

"Let me call you back," placing the phone in its cradle, he wafted out an exasperated sigh, "Didn't I say to e-mail—"

"You can say anything you like, that doesn't mean that's how things work, Mr. Im," laced with rigid toxicity, you strode closer towards his desk before dropping down the binder with a hard thud. The sound doesn't seem to disturb him, but it was one of the only gestures you could demonstrate that did not include violence. With a deep, unsaturated, breath you flipped it open, "I was unwilling sent here to train an incompetent CEO, and I certainly will not be taking any disrespect from him so long as his father is in the ground."

The silence grew thick as he narrowed his eyes at you, wetting his lips before grimacing at the hostile way you spoke back to him. It seemed as though he was contemplating his options — even if you weren't sure what they were or what they entailed, the way his onyx orbs seemed to dilate indicated he was deep in thought. Leaning back in his chair, he lifted a hand and gestured for you to sit, "...We have a meeting to attend in an hour, say what you have to and fast because you won't be here tomorrow to say it."

Not a single sound escaped your lips as you took a seat, internally feeling your temperature rise with rage and frustration against someone who was absolutely nothing compared to you. Instead, you reminded yourself to keep it professional until the very end.

You did your job, and you always, did it well.

Propping open the binder resolutely, you turned to the first flag that was indicative of your notes. If he really did manage to get rid of you by tomorrow, at the very least, you would prove that there was nothing on your end that could have possibly caused the termination. Before you had a chance to speak, he stole away the silence, "...And you're still trying to figure out my schedule."

"Yes, so for Thursday—"

"You'll be gone by tomorrow."

"Fantastic. You have two overlapping meetings—"

"There really is no point in us going over—"

"Can you shut the fuck up for one second, Mr. Im, and let me get through my notes so we can stop wasting time with this binder and can arrive at the meeting with the director of the potential merging company on time," eye contact locked in place, you recited every word robotically before ending your sentence with a smile. The question was rhetoric as he folded his arms over his chest, a brow perked up curiously.

"You can terminate me tomorrow, but right now, we have a lot of work to do. You'll regret not having this done now, I assure you," leaning into his desk, you felt your thoughts wander to wanting to curse every hair on his head, every surface area of his skin, his parents should have been cursed, his grandparents, his ancestors that lingered within his genetics should be cursed and taint his kin for generations to come.

"...The representative call will only take a few minutes, he's a curt conversationalist, so I wouldn't worry about rescheduling either of those meetings. Leave it."

"Thank you."

The process continued with mechanic efficiency as you arrived at each flag, receiving clarification for the nuanced citations that you were looking to collect. You were unsure of why he was so difficult and rigid to start, but you managed to get the information you needed without missing the time of departure that you two needed to adhere to as so not to be late for the merger meeting. Standing at the front of the building in search of the company car you had instructed the reception to call for, you directed yourself and Mr. Im towards the sleek foreign automobile, door held open by the driver. You insisted for the passenger seat but was denied due to "company policy", much to your distaste, as you sat as far away from the CEO as you possibly could.

Rather than clean up his mess, he unceremoniously gripped your hip before swiftly flipping you over — the buoyant material capturing you with Newton's force as you settled — the residue of his climax melting into the sheets as you hissed and shot him a look over your shoulder, "You're disgusting—"

To your surprise — and horror? — you could tell he was still semi-hard and the way he grasped your thighs to drag you closer to him confirmed that he was continuing without question, "Are you still hard?"

It's really just an observation, and he knows that too, but he nods, "Uh huh."

The shock that traveled warp and weft up the nerves that intwined your spine earned him the symphonic moan he was starting to be pleased with, your back arching as you felt the dulled stretch of his cock reenter you. You couldn't figure out how to breathe without feeling like you were going to cum again, shallowly attempting not to fidget as he agonizingly pressed every inch into you. As his fingers ghosted up your torso and onto your breast, you were tempted to lift yourself up and away as his thumb and index went to twist at your already sore nipples — erect for the entirety of when he first fucked you. Squirming your hips against him, the right side of your face pressed into the mattress, you could barely utter a noise as he suddenly began creating a pace once more. The amount of overstimulation had you listening to your heavy breathing in an almost anxious pattern, Jaebeom spreading you from behind as you heard — and felt — his warm saliva drip down your ass and over his cock as it entered you.

"Slow down," you moaned, shivering as he managed to find the exact location that caused you to even unravel the first time. As the arrogant imp he was, he responded with the same words you had used on him earlier that day, "You can say anything you like, that doesn't mean that's how things work."

With that, he bit down on his lip before slamming his hips right into yours, causing you to choke up as your vision further blurred into a galaxy of exposed peppered lights. You whined in pleasure as he repeated this same technique over and over and over, the sudden impacts were so gratifying you didn't even realize how quickly your next orgasm crept up on you until all you could do was gasp, feeling the sudden release as your ears went mute — the lack of oxygen cutting into your passageway even without his hand on your throat.

Growling at the feeling of how hard you clenched around him, he managed his composure as he groaned out in exasperation, "Already?"

Yes already, your chest heaved as you felt your body wash over with soreness and delight while Jaebeom kept thrusting into you. Shivering, you felt his fingers find their way back to your swollen clit as he rotated his middle finger against your overstimulated bundle of nerves, "S-Stop!"

Of course, he ignored you. Burying your face into the feather stuffed pillows, you cursed as you felt your eyes well up from the immense pleasure, a descent down to a labyrinth you had never explored even on your own. You swore you were going to black out if Jaebeom didn't hurry and finish, your hips quivering and threatening to fall flat without the iron grip his fingers had. Leaning forward, he pressed his chin into your shoulder before nudging his nose into your neck, "I'd think you were falling asleep if you weren't so fucking noisy."

The way he spoke into the bowl of your ear, dousing his warm breath against your hair matted skin, forced you to melt closer into him to your disdain. Reclining back without warning, he hoisted you up with your back against his broad chest, "Fuck you." It was honestly all you could manage as you hiccuped through his sharp thrusts, moaning and hooking your free arm around his neck to balance yourself against him.

"You are, don't get too ahead of yourself."

Much to your surprise, you realized internally that both you and Mr. Im had assumed the worst with the new work colleague situation and were pleasantly met with competence and preparation on both ends. Despite his horrible attitude towards you, his temperament towards other business partners and clients surfaced as mild mannered with a tasteful personality; it honestly felt like you were observing an entirely different species — as if the moment you exited the car together and entered the new building it had garnered some sort of genetic mutation at that very moment which rendered his origins slack. Suddenly he was the new overseeing CEO, Mr. Im, and he created such grace in a room you hardly believed he wasn’t body swapped when you had been looking down at the business card you received or pressing a button for your floor in the elevator. It didn’t, however, fool you into thinking otherwise of his prior behavior — he was still a menace — but you hoped that the well showered compliments and kindness from the opposing party’s head of the hierarchy that were poured over you as an administrative lead proposed at least some doubt if he were still pondering to terminate you.

“And to think she’s here on her first day,” the conversation was rerouted to you suddenly as everyone wrapped up their finalized closing comments. Clicking your pen to return its nib, you gave a humble smile before bowing your head forward, “It’s been a pleasure and a very special opportunity granted to me.”

These were business lies, but what was new in the superficial world created by massive empty headed moguls who were puppeteers amongst their greatest talent? Prepared to give your final exit and head home to wash away this nightmare, you were held steady by Mr. Shin — the director who was initiating the merger — as his expression seemed to have some sort of excitement zip past it, an impression of exuberance you weren’t quite sure how to place. Vocalizing your last name, he continued, “You and Mr. Im have nothing else after this, right?”

No, but I want to head home and drown in my bath tub and maybe a glass of pinot noir.

“No sir, we do not.”

“Please join me for a drink! We should celebrate your first day.”

What a pitiful and pathetic excuse to create faux harmonious feelings with Mr. Im — though you respected his decision as not to completely accept the terms that were laid in front of you today — this was a redundant way of creating an even longer appeal that could possibly only infuse tension. Parting your lips to politely reject the offer, you felt Mr. Im suddenly cut into your response, “Honestly we’re both rather busy.”

Though a paraphrased version of these words were on your tongue, you couldn’t help but be annoyed because for the past three or so hours, all you did was watch someone who had the highest level of social awareness and emotional intelligence communicate flawlessly amongst a room of stiff business men and yet he could not spare you? You simply nodded in agreement as Mr. Shin frowned, “Nonsense! There is always time for a drink.”

Stealing a peek at Mr. Im, your lungs almost burst as you suppressed them from your laughter — his jaw clenched in frustration. Instead, to appeal to the devil’s advocate, you decided to fuck with him, “We’d love to attend, did you have a place in mind, Mr. Shin?”

You may have been socially exhausted but if you were going to be executed, you weren’t going alone. Again with the saccharine grin, you beamed at your CEO as you watched a flurry of rage shutter through his eyes — only for a moment — before his polite demeanor resurfaced, “…Yes of course.”

Silent through dinner, as you had expected, the conversations furthered to delve into the hearty relation of the two conglomerate leaders. You were a good listener, most of the time, and especially now since you wanted nothing more but to be home. You learned that Mr. Im was named Jaebeom, that he was likely going to die alone with his cats — he had five — in his vague description of the neighborhood he resided it, which only made you assume he was private. You also learned he held concurrent degrees in international business and economics, both furthered in graduate school from — against your better beliefs — full scholarships. You also learned his stepfather seemed a saint, taking in his single mother and him, no questions asked and full of love.

“What year were you born?”

“1994,” the polite reply had you suddenly choking on your sip of soju. Mr. Im turned to you with fake concern as you held a hand up, “My apologies.”

“Not great at handling your liquor huh?” Mr. Shin commented, another misogynist’s proverbial response, as you smiled and shook your head, “Oh no, I just assumed our CEO was younger.”

It sounded like an insult and you intend it to be in some ways, but you weren’t lying, you did think he was younger than yourself. Jaebeom narrowed his eyes at you but the feigned smile seemed to hide his sinister expression, “Now why would you think that?”

“No reason in particular.”

You also learned that, even though you were not anywhere near on good terms with Mr. Im, he did hold some mercy for you. After the director’s comment about your alcohol consumption, which was wrong but regardless, he began catching your pours — despite the fact you were watching him grow exhausted, dehydrated, and inevitably drunk. You assume it was for appearances but were thankful nonetheless since your haze was finally starting to let up, and the sobering process had started. After several hours of banter, you finally bid your goodbyes with one another before starting towards the station. You were hoping to catch the last train before the rails shut down for the night. Not without a shadow, however, Mr. Im quietly following behind you as he shot off unsolicited comments, “Not sure why he had to make an excuse to give you a welcoming party.”

You simply rolled your eyes as you scanned your card against the sensor to a nearly empty station. Hearing the dim “beep” behind you, you wondered why he couldn’t have just taken a taxi. Shuffling down the steps, you wanted to get as far away from the tower figure stalking you. Too bad he was a giant lump of matter that traveled at twice your pace, “Maybe this was more of a goodbye party.”

Oh so he was still on the termination thing, right*. Rolling your eyes again, you sat down on one of the empty seat slots as he plopped down beside you, “The station is empty and there’s so many other chairs can’t you sit somewhere else?” Hissing at him, he turned to you as his eyes seemed to search for something that wasn’t there and simply laughed before looking towards the empty rails in silence.

“…You sure don’t act like you were born in ‘94,” scoffing you stood up and attempted to find another seat a row down before his reflexes seemed to show they were completely in tact, fingers shackled your wrist with contempt, “And what’s that supposed to mean.”

“That you act like a brat,” retorting at him you shook your arm in an attempt to get free as he yanked you over. Yelping, you tripped towards him with a frown, “I’m surprised you say that.”

The feigned expression of hurt wanted to make you dry heave as you stood in front of him, arm limp in his hold. Another sudden unsolicited comment fell through his lips as his eyes dilated in a different way than they had when you had entered his office unannounced earlier that day, “…You smell nice.”

Disgusted, your expression contorted when you felt his thumb gently glide over your wrist. However, you were afraid to snatch your hand away in fear his reflexes would yank you back even harder. You stood, instead, stoic as you stared at him incredulously and praying for the chugging wheels of a train to appear and allow you to depart. There wasn’t more you could possibly endure, you think, but you were met with yet another surprise as your looked down, horrified, to find your CEO’s stepson really had to have been born some years more recent as he had his hormones on full display.

“…Mr. Im, please let me go.”

“Mm…” his voice rattled quietly, but you could tell he had sobered up already — entirely annoying for his own benefit — as his fingers continued to clasp your wrist in his hold.

This was the most vile man you had ever encountered — which said a lot when you were nearly always in male dominated environments — and he seemed to know and fully understand that. There was something so infuriating and rage filling as the spaces even in the depths of your being could not fathom, encasing a frustration that knocked through your caged silence that finally caused your outburst, “Why the fuck is your dick hard you pervert, let me go!” As you wailed in the empty station, there’s a moment of confusion that winded over Jaebeom’s face. It’s as if he was missing some pieces to your claim, and when he realized and really understood what you were concerned about — and you can tell — he flushed with embarrassment. Suddenly, for the first time today, he was bowing and profusely apologizing.

It was a nice sight but didn’t change the fact that you were absolutely petrified that this towering man, after everything he put you through, was visibly hard in a public space with you. Exhaling as a sense of release however, that he acknowledged his crimes, you began to step away before hearing some mumbled reasonings that were beyond you. Even Jaebeom wasn’t quite sure why he began spouting them, “I have trouble around women, so it wasn’t you in particular. I’m so sorry I gave you a hard time, but I thought it may have been different because I spent most of the day in your company—”

“…You have trouble around women?” Hard to believe when the entirety of the female population at main branch’s office was ready to sit up on his desk and spread for their new CEO — not that you were eavesdropping, but you heard a lot of chatter before and after you were transferred. When you repeat his claim, you realize immediately that he wasn’t bluffing and that his shame grows apparent. It is the first time you see the expression of guilt and defeat as his features revert to an even more childlike demeanor.

The train finally arrived, the little chime playing in the speakers and echoing through the surfaces as you stand silently awaiting his explanation, ignoring the last departure. The contemplation that riddled his face seemed to go between completely discarding everything he mentioned to simply being honest, “…Yes.”

“In what way?”

Knitting his brows together, he seemed to be unable to tongue out the words he wanted to use to properly articulate himself without seeming more like a pervert, “In a traumatic way.”

You practically snorted at the excuse before rolling your eyes, it seemed like some pathetic way to weasel out of the fact that he was some sick fuck but by the way he was speaking, perhaps it wasn’t? This wasn’t some glorified explanation but rather a sacred and honest confession held in a booth, between two strangers. You wanted to trust him, truly, but he made sure you shouldn't have after his performative gestures today. Hesitation filled his dreaded voice as he surrendered, “…I really struggle interacting with women in general—”

“And you really expect me to believe that when there are women in our office?”

“I try to avoid them, and it’s why I requested a male secretary in particular.”

For some strange reason, this suddenly made sense and somewhere deep in a crevice that was lost in the galaxy of your being, you felt a sense of pity, “…I see.” But it was somewhere really, really, deep.

“I spent most of the day sitting beside you, entirely focusing on keeping you as more of a fragment of my imagination rather than an actual person,” this seemed insulting out of context, but you continued to listen, “so I assumed it would have been fine to interact with you since we were talking normally at the meeting and dinner.”

The tone in his voice turned shy, but not because he was finding a scape goat to protect his actions rather, because he was disappointed in the resulting outcome from the lack of experience and unstable accuracy brought him. Gently dragging your eyes down his figure, seeing the still apparent source of your horror which made chills infect you, you snapped out of your pity filled daze when security requested that the two of you leave the station as they were closing up for the night. Shoving your portfolio case at him, you gesture for him to shield his eyesore of an erection as you exited the station with him silently. The awkward steps onto the empty sidewalk had you searching for a solution in the cracks on the concrete, as you often found yourself attempting. The curse of being an instrumental communicator. An unlikely scenario came to mind but you decided to wait on that particular weighing before offering Mr. Im to share a cab.

“It’s late shouldn’t we head home?”

The erratic pace hinted to you that he was getting close, sloppy and lacking purpose or precision, even his skilled finger against your clit began apply just a bit too much pleasure as you doubled over and realized the blinding release that seeped down your thighs in a snapping constriction, "Jaebeom please." You had never heard yourself beg so wantonly as you squirmed to get your hips away from him.

Twenty minutes pass and not a single car — let alone a cab — passed the road in sight. It was a normally, busy, street filled with commuters and yet not a single soul graced your line of vision. A few feet away stood your very uncomfortable CEO, marked with shame as he awkwardly held your portfolio in front of him while he messaged several drivers to see if any of them were free and awake to give both of you a ride back to your homes. You wanted to commend yourself for the amount of pity you were able to have for such a vile human being, but you remind yourself exhaustion and the lingering taste of alcohol were rendering you soft.

"Any luck?"

"None," turning the screen of his mobile towards you, your eyes skimmed the little "1" besides all the unread, repeated messages.

"...Fifteen minute grace period, right?" You were referring to the time frame of most appointments before finding a bench and dropping your weight onto it. Jaebeom sat beside you quietly, staring at the screen of his phone, as if he could control the actions of the message receivers with his mind through sheer concentration.

For the first time all day, the silence felt less like viscous tar strung between you but as if you were swimming in honey besides someone you may have been misunderstanding due to misconstrued circumstances, "...You said you had some trauma?"

"That's really not something I think I want to share right now," the mumbling filled his mouth through a sigh as he stared off at the brightly outlined skyline in the distance, creating a fake horizon amongst the navy light polluted sky. Pursing your lips, you nodded quietly before following with a sigh of your own, "...I appreciate your honesty, at least."

"Yours too."

If you weren't exhausted, you might have been able to offer a better laugh, "So are you still going to fire me?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"Are you going to blackmail me?" Jaebeom tipped his head back to capture more of the sky before lazily dropping his head to look over at you. Returning his gaze, you furrowed your brows in confusion, "For what?"

"Sexual harassment." It took a moment for you to connect what he was referring to before you burst into laughter, still hoarse and not quite as strong as you could have emitted, "...You know, I don't think you're lying for some reason."

"I wasn't."

"Yeah, so I'll let it slide," you pause before snorting.

The silence consumed the night as you checked your watch, before Jaebeom's voice broke through once more, "You did good today."

"Thank y—"

"For a secretary," you rolled your eyes as he ruined the compliment, frustrating you, "You know I was an operations manager."

"You sure are proud to tell me you got demoted." Absolutely awestruck, you felt the relaxation that had entered your body moments ago turn back into frustration. On a whim, one you probably would have never dared to attempt had the situation been different and you weren't so exasperated and absolutely annihilated from the day's events, you took your fist and slammed it into the portfolio that was sitting on Jaebeom's lap. Absolutely breathless, he choked out violently before glaring at you with seething anger.

"I didn't, I was forced to transfer to teach you how to do your job, to help you."

"You're not doing a very good job at it," rolling his eyes, voice still strained from the pressure and soreness you offered his condition you smiled triumphantly, "Says who?"

"From my experience, good employees don't go around punching superiors in the groin."

"We're even now."

"This wasn't sexual harassment, it was battery," deadpanning, he checked his phone again. Rather than ask if he got a response, you hear another echoed sigh that signaled you both probably weren't going anywhere anytime soon.

"...So do you just get erect whenever you're around women?"

"Why do you keep bringing this up?"

"It's kind of funny, it's like the opposite of erectile dysfunction right?" It's the first time he looks mortified, pale, when he looked at you and the way you phrased his condition. The stiffness in his body hints that you're probably right on the money, "Let me guess, you probably went to dozens of doctors and medical professionals and they say it's probably a psychological thing that has manifested into your physiological response."

Silence.

"So, because you think you're a big strong man," cooing at him, you pouted your lips to sear into him deeper with your taunts, "you've been warding off confronting your trauma of women and through sheer willpower, avoid them. But every once and while, there's something like this, and you decide to act like an unbearable prick so you can pretend women don't exist."

The way you've read into him has him absolutely speechless, vulnerable, and frustrated that you were able to peel back his layers so easily and swiftly from just a few focused interactions alone. There is nothing he can offer back to rebuttal and salvage the very little of what his pride had left. Instead, he sat quietly and gripped his phone, the glazed over expression on his face indicating he was no longer listening but he wasn't thinking of anything in particular either. You were still human so in some ways, this caused an induced amount of guilt to wash over you, "...Have you ever tried to fix it."

"Of course."

"How?"

"I tried to interact normally with women, naturally," nodding slow, you mirrored his gesture in understanding before fidgeting with the chiffon material of your dress, "And that didn't work out?"

"Not really," he laughed bitterly.

"...Do you think I can help you?" You convince yourself it's an instrumental solution, it's something you want to think is part of your job. The thing you were good at, you know, and the thing he took the severest blow in belittling you about. Maybe part of it even involved spite.

"I don't know, can you?" Rolling his eyes, he stared at you in disbelief before you nudged yourself closer on the bench beside him, risking a lot more than you could have imagined, "I'll only tell you once, Mr. Im, but I'm very good at my job."

Peering down at your watch, you point it towards him, "Fifteen minutes are up."

"Why? Don't you wanna cum?" He used a taunting tone, again repeating something you had uttered earlier. Almost regretful, your ears became even more dull as he roughly pulled out while you winced, being forced onto your back as he hooked his hands beneath your knees. What was the result of this man's stamina and why was he able to fuck this long? Rolling your head back in surrender, you no longer attempted to swallow your noises as he reentered — hopefully for the last time — slowly rowing his hips back and forth as your toes curled, feeling the sensation of your circulation lapsing through your extremities. It takes only a few gently pushes, and he pulls out before finishing on your chest for the last time.

He's lost all his focus, and in a shitty attempt to regain it, he leaned forward to press his forehead to yours — lips ghosting near and swallowing your curses. As you feel his weight pull closer, you placed your palm over his mouth, "...Don't."

This was only work, and like every precise decision you ever made, every experiment you were — you made sure to do everything well.

[ chapter two ]

all work, no play series masterlist

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