#// five asking the hard hitting questions over coffee

[thechaosjunkie]

time to forgive yourself, kid. you got a future. you gotta see that now. (From Hazel!)

@the-commissions-deadliest (Hazel) // Random Sentence Prompts: Accepting

"Yeah, actually...yeah, I get it," Five replied, concealing his surprise at seeing Hazel alive, the image of the rogue agent being shot up by the Swedes still burned into his mind. "But you know," he continued, coffee in hand as he leaned against the bar, "in my case, I'm suddenly a kid again. Doesn't quite seem fair, you know? I've practically been handed another 50 years to live. What do you do with that? What would YOU do with that? You've already had a lifetime--and you've had Agnes. Pretty fulfilling, wasn't it? I mean, what would you do if your body was suddenly young again? What's immortality look like to you?"

[oncasette]

FANGTASIA. send in a character from my guide + one of the prompts below for a drabble!

OK LAST ONE I PROMISE. but you know I had to send in a theseus request so … theseus + "You think I like being like this? Every time someone fucking touches you I want to rip their hands off!" teehee 😋

'𝗖𝗔𝗨𝗦𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨'𝗥𝗘 𝗝𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝗔 𝗠𝗔𝗡 (𝗜𝗧'𝗦 𝗝𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗗𝗢)

theseus scamander x fem!reader

summary: 1.7k

“I can hear you sulking over there. C’mon,” you urge as you watch him out of your periphery. He closed his eyes before he exhaled slowly. Deeply, forcing all of the air out of his lungs in the hopes that his foul mood would exit with it. He didn’t want to be like this. He didn’t want to hate your secretary, to be the possessive guy that never let his partner speak to another man, but it was starting to eat away at him. It was a lot easier to lose you when he didn’t fully have you, yet.

or the one where theseus can't stand your secretary.

warnings: none that i can think of, semi-possessive theseus?

masterlist 

He was just your secretary. That’s what you keep telling yourself. And Theseus. All he does is your filing and allow people entry into your office. And bring you your morning coffee without you needing to ask for it, with the exact amount of cream and sugar you take without you ever having told him in the past. 

Of course, this was just him being excellent at his job, it was why you’d kept him on for so long. There was a quick turnover rate for secretaries at the ministry. A year or two, at most, before they were either fired by their respective bosses or they left to pursue a field they were actually passionate about. But not Richard. No, you’d been working with Richard for the better part of five years. Long before you’d ever met your now boyfriend–if you could even call him that, only having been on a dozen or so dates at this point. Not that the question hadn’t been on the tip of his tongue since the first time you batted your eyelashes at him. 

That didn’t stop Theseus from clenching his jaw every morning when he stopped by to say hello only to find your secretary to have abandoned his post outside your office in favor of holing up in your loveseat and carrying on with whatever annoyingly dull topic of conversation he’d chosen to occupy your time with. It didn’t stop him from rolling his eyes at the way his hand lingered over yours as he dropped off the accounts you needed that afternoon during your lunch break, little more than a glance cast askew at him as he sat beside you. It didn’t stop him from biting his tongue so hard it bled each time you brought Richard up in the evenings when he walked you out of the building.

No, it didn’t matter how long you’d worked with the man. Theseus knew a crush when he saw one. 

“What’s wrong, love? You’ve been tense all day,” you say, gently placing a hand onto his shoulder. He’d been sitting in your office for a little over an hour, his work day having already drawn to a close but you’d had to finish up a last minute assignment your boss had thrown on your desk fifteen minutes before you were supposed to leave. Theseus hadn’t minded waiting.

“Nothing,” he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Richard had been especially irritating that day. He’d barely had five minutes alone with you before you’d forced your secretary to go home once the clock hit six. 

“I can hear you sulking over there. C’mon,” you urge as you watch him out of your periphery. He closed his eyes before he exhaled slowly. Deeply, forcing all of the air out of his lungs in the hopes that his foul mood would exit with it. He didn’t want to be like this. He didn’t want to hate your secretary, to be the possessive guy that never let his partner speak to another man, but it was starting to eat away at him. It was a lot easier to lose you when he didn’t fully have you, yet.

“It’s nothing, lovely. Promise,” he says. At the very least, having this time with you was beginning to dull the headache that had formed earlier in the day. He thinks it started when Richard had once again waltzed into your office during your lunch hour with the hopes of taking you out to the bakery a couple blocks away. 

“Okay,” you drawl, eyebrows drawn together. 

It’s then that Theseus notices the parchment stuck to your desk lamp. It was a charmed doodle, one that poorly illustrated a man with smoke shooting out of his ears sitting at a desk played on a loop. To keep you company while you work - Rich. Of course.

“You ready?” you ask, shuffling around documents and files on your desk to deal with on Monday when you return before grabbing your bag off the ground and slipping your coat on. You circle around the furniture in your office to stand in front of Theseus. He ran a firm hand across his brow bone as he stood to meet you. He leans forward to place a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth as he nods. 

It’s hard to ignore how stiff he’s become.

“Are we still good for dinner at yours tonight?” you ask. 

“Of course,” he hums. He wasn’t going to let this ruin the one of the few evenings a week he got to spend with you. Or, at least, he was going to try to not let it ruin it. 

Once he was sure you’d both collected the remainders of your belongings, he takes your hand in his to apparate the two of you to his flat. Since you weren’t going back to your place, he didn’t feel the need to walk the two of you all the way across the ministry just to disapparate from there. He only did that to spend a couple extra minutes with you, anyway. 

It’s only the second time you’ve been to his place, but the short wave of nausea prevents you from feeling too overwhelmingly nervous about it. You set your bag beside the door before you move to the kitchen to sit and let the urge to vomit begin to dissipate. Theseus smooths a palm over down your arm as he slides up behind you. 

He leans down to whisper in your ear. His nose brushes against your cheek. “Can I get you anything?”

“Maybe a penny…” you trail off.

“A penny?” he huffs amused.

“For your thoughts,” you say.

“I told you it was nothing.”

“Darling, I know something’s wrong. I want to help if I can,” you say, tilting your head back enough to look at his face. He bends again to kiss your forehead. It’s tender, sweet. Nearly domestic. 

“It’s just work stress, I guess,” he says. He wasn’t technically lying. 

“I’m sorry,” you hum, bringing a hand up to smooth across his cheek for a second. “Do you want to talk about it? It might help if you get some of it off your chest.”

“I wouldn’t want to burden you, love,” he says as he begins to move away from your chair. He meanders around the small kitchen as he starts to gather the things he needs to cook dinner. You hardly notice as he charms the cutting board to dice vegetables for him. 

“It wouldn’t be a burden. Richie’s always telling me about the kinds of things that bother him at the office,” you say. Theseus’ jaw clenches. With his suit coat already having been slung across the couch in the living room, he’s quick to roll his button-down sleeves up to his elbows. 

“Fucking Richard,” he mutters. It’s so quiet you almost miss it. Your brows raise. He runs a palm over his jaw, resisting the urge to bite down on one of his fingers. 

“This is about him?”

“What?” he asks as he turns away from you to grab noodles from his pantry. The first time he’d asked about Richard had been harmless. A one-off question at the end of your evening when he’d been walking you back to your flat. A question you’d answered simply. He’s just your secretary. Then he’d asked again. A second and a third time. 

“This. Your… mood. It’s about him, isn’t it?” you ask. You’re attempting to sound understanding, but you know there’s an edge to your tone. He doesn’t elicit an answer. “I thought I told you he wasn’t anything to worry about. He works for me.”

“I know,” he grumbles. 

“Then what’s this about, hm?” you ask, standing from your chair and moving into his space. 

“It’s just.” He’s cracking, slightly. He hates that he’s allowed himself to get affected by something so trivial. “He’s always there.”

“You’ve got yourself in a fit because my secretary comes into my office during work hours?”

“It’s the way he is around you, you know? He’s always around, always touching or trying to touch. You should see the way he looks at you,” he huffs. The box in his hand drops onto the counter suddenly, his hands following as he pushes his weight against them. 

“Thes-” you start. 

“You think I like being like this? You think it’s something I want? To be so angry and aggravated about something that I can’t control? That you can’t control?” he asks. “Everytime he touches you I want to rip his fucking hands off.”

You step behind him, winding your arms around his middle until he’s stood straight again. His hands find yours and interweave between your fingers. 

“It’s not you,” he sighs. “Well, I mean, it is you. I don’t see how there isn’t a single man left in the world not wrapped tight around your finger.”

You press a kiss between his collarbones. He relaxes into your hold. 

“I don’t want Richard,” you say.

“I know.”

“I want you.”

“I want you, too, darling.”

“But I also want you to talk to me,” you say as you urge him to turn to face you with a tap of your fingers against his torso. “I’ll talk to him. I can’t say I haven’t noticed him being a little closer to me than some of the other secretaries have been with their bosses, because I have. So, I’ll talk to him. But, I need you to talk to me, too.”

His forehead falls forward until it’s pressed against yours. 

You continue, “I need you to tell me when stuff like this bothers you. You can’t just be all angry at the world and do nothing about it and expect it all to change. Okay?”

“I can do that,” he hums. 

“Good,” you nod. 

“Good.”

“You also need to remember that I’m a grown-up and I can handle myself, too, right? Just because another man may or may not have his eyes on me doesn’t mean I’m going to go running off into the sunset with him,” you say. A soft laugh rumbles in his chest, his eyes crinkling with a soft smile at the sides. 

“Alright,” he says. 

“Now,” you say. “What’s for dinner?”

[rafeandonlyrafe]

stress relief

words: 1.1k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, male receiving handjob and oral, semi dub con (mainly power dynamics), bimbo!reader, ceo!rafe

“hey y/n.” rafes secretary says as you quickly make your way past her desk with a quick wave and into your bosses office, knowing you're a few minutes late.

“hi, bossman.” you smile wide as you enter, placing his iced coffee down on the coaster that stays sat out and ready.

“y/n, thank god you're here.” rafe groans, pushing himself away from his laptop, needing a break from staring at the screen.

“im only like five minutes late.” you pout, already feeling tears well up in your eyes. “it's just because your coffee was taking a long time and-”

“no, i don't care about that.” rafe shakes his head quickly. the second he saw you in the lobby, among the line of girls waiting to interview for his assistant position, he knew you'd be chosen.

tight pink shirt showing off your cleavage and a skirt that was clearly bought just for the interview, twice the length of what rafe guessed was your average skirt length, and quickly figured out he was right when you reverted back to your mini skirts.

“oh, okay.” all the negative emotions you were feeling are gone as you shrug.

“but i do need you for something. come here.” rafe beckons you over and you move quickly to the other side of the desk.

“what is it ya need?” you ask, quirking your head to the side.

“need some stress relief.” rafe grunts, adjusting the front of his pants from where he's painfully pressing against the zipper.

“okay, like a massage?” you question. you're not sure what the normal functions of an assistant to a ceo entails, but for how much you're getting paid, you're willing to do pretty much anything.

“yes, a massage.” rafe nods enthusiastically. “exactly. and i have one place that really needs to be massaged.”

“mmkay.” you nod, figuring it's his shoulders or something, when rafe tugs at his zipper and pulls his painfully hard cock out.

“oh my god!” you squeal, covering your face quickly, palms smacking against your cheeks.

“no, no.” rafe says calmly. “this is just part of the job, okay?”

“i… are you sure?” 

“yes. now come give me a massage so i can get back to work.”

“okay…” you take a better look at his dick, hard and long with a decent size to it that makes you imagine something you definitely shouldn't about your boss. you shake the thoughts out of your head and grab your desk chair from the corner of the room and drag it towards rafe.

you sit down next to him, glancing again between his eyes and his exposed privates. rafe gives you an encouraging nod, and there's no way your boss would lie to you, right? 

your hand reaches out to grasp rafes cock, swallowing thickly to ignore the urge to wrap your lips around it as you begin to stroke him.

“is that good?” you question.

“yeah, real good, just keep going.” rafe relaxes into his chair, plush and comfortable for the long hours he spends in the office, always arriving before you and leaving long after you've called it quits for the day.

you reach your other hand forward as well, working his length with both hands. you tug your lower lip between your teeth, focusing on his pleasure as you jack him off.

rafe keeps mostly quiet, just a slight increase in the noise of his exhales, but not quite yet a sigh. you leave one hand moving up and down his length and bring the other to the head of his cock, moving in teasing swirls before swiping the pad of your thumb right over his tip.

“oh, that's good.” rafe mutters, his eyes blinking hard to stay open, wanting to remember exactly what it's like to have you leaning forward, breasts almost spilling out as your hands work on his cock.

“anything for you boss.” you smile. you do love working for rafe. being his assistant is mostly just running errands for him, but even that doesn't take up enough of your time, so you end up online shopping and picking at your nails until 5pm hits.

“you are really good at massages.” rafe smirks, and you don't catch his implication. that you're experienced and not in literal massages.

“thanks.” you feel your cheeks blush, face heating. it's hard to get a compliment out of rafe. the nicest thing you think he's ever done is when you caught him staring at your ass as you walked away.

“keep doing that.” rafe says when you cup your hand over the head of his cock, rubbing your palm against his leaky tip.

“mmkay.” you hum again, your usual response to any of rafes demands. your other hand keeps stroking over his length, squeezing just tight enough to have rafes lower jaw dropping in pleasure.

you both jump when the phone begins to ring. rafe reaches over to quickly end the call when he sees who it is.

“stop, it's tokyo.” rafe whispers as your hands continue to move. even though you keep yourself out of the business side, you know how big of a deal the companies japanese partners are.

“answer it!” you squeal, but your hands continue to move.

rafe know he can't keep them waiting so he quickly accepts the call, trying to fix his voice while you stare at him, still stroking almost absentmindedly up and down his cock.

rafe answers the question the representative on the other end has as you drop one hand down to fondle his balls, squeezing your hand into the opening in his pants to touch them.

rafe pulls the phone receiver away from his mouth as he lets out a quiet curse, eyes pleading for you to stop, but you can't make yourself, and rafe certainly won't push your hands away when he's longed to have them on him for so long.

rafes voice is shaky as he answers questions, his cock pulsing in your hand, tip turning pink as you realize what is about to happen.

you look around for something to catch his cum as his cock pulses in your hand but you come up with nothing, so you drop your head and wrap your mouth around the head of his cock just as he begins to cum, sucking gently to empty him as you obediently swallow.

your hands fall away as you look up at rafe, lips locked around his cock. you give one final suck that has him gasping before covering it up with a cough before you pull off with a pop.

you don't even need to be asked as you tuck rafe back into his pants as he finishes up his call, tossing the phone down the second he says sayonara.

“shit.” rafe groans.

“is your stress relieved now?” you ask, somehow still looking the perfect mix of innocent and sluty even though your lipgloss is smeared from rafes cock.

“yeah.” rafe nods. “and next time i want a massage with your mouth.”

[starlemons]

Coffee and Crime ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ PART FIVE

Pairing ✦ mafia!bucky x reader

Word Count ✦ 1.6K

Warnings ✦ overall story has a 18+ content warning, MDNI, cussing, weapon caused injury (non-fatal), panic attack, pretty fluffy

A/N ✦ thank you to everyone who has been leaving kind comments, it means a lot <3

PART FOUR »»» Series Masterlist

I will update the series every 1-4 days depending on my schedule

Bucky stared back into your eyes, his phone pressed against his ear.

“Hey Buc-”, Tony started from the other end of the line.

“I’ll call you right back.”, Bucky cut off his friend, hitting end call on his screen, and tossing his phone to the side. 

“Y/N…”, Bucky started, “I need you to take some deep breaths for me sweetheart. I’ll explain everything.”

He studied your expression, the look of panic that swept your features was like that of a caged wild animal. 

You could feel your heart beating in your ears, sweat dripped down your temple, and the car suddenly felt like it was caving in on you. Before you even realized what you were doing, you peeled your high heels off your feet, threw open the car door, and took off sprinting into the wilderness that surrounded the car.

Bucky sat in stunned shock. Of all the possible things he thought you would do, this wasn’t one of the higher ones up on the list.

“Shit.”, he cursed, scrambling out of the car and running after you, “Shit, shit, shit.”

Small sticks stabbed into your feet as you ran through the trees. Your panic filled brain instructing you to run for your life, ask questions later. 

“Y/N!”, Bucky called from behind you.

You looked back over your shoulder for just a moment, and next thing you knew you were face down on the forest floor, having lost your footing when you glanced behind you. Footsteps crunched through the foliage, getting louder as they neared you. 

“Y/N, shit, are you okay?”, Bucky knelt down next to you.

You were most definitely not okay. Fear and anxiety overtook any other emotions, your body was not handling your near death experience well at all. You slowly sat up, wiping mud off of your face, looking into Bucky’s worried eyes.

“I’m sorry.”, you whispered, “I don’t-I don’t…”

Your heart started racing quicker, another wave of panic rising. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.”, Bucky reached out with his good arm, going to grab one of your hands but stopping just short of touching it, “Can I touch you?”

You nodded your head yes.

Bucky's fingers closed around yours, his thumb rubbing light circles on the back of your hand. 

“Y/N I want you to copy how I breathe okay? 

He lightly squeezed your hand as he took a deep breath in and blew the air back out, you mimicked him. The two of you sat on the woodland ground, in near silence, the only sound cutting through the air was the soft sounds of your breathing. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed but the panic that overtook you, slowly dissipated. Glancing up, you looked at Bucky, him giving you a soft smile. You blushed and turned your eyes, accidentally staring at his shoulder injury. This man had just chased you through the woods to try and calm you down, even though he had been shot.

The realization of it made you burst into tears.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?", Bucky's voice was filled with worry.

You squeezed his hand tightly.

“I was just so scared that I ran, and you didn’t have to follow me or even check on me, but you did. You literally got shot and still ran through the woods after me to make sure I was okay.”, you sobbed out.

Tears and wails came out of you even harder. Bucky’s heart tightened, he released your hand, and reached up wiping tears off of your cheeks. 

“Sweetheart…”, he cooed, “You’re gonna make yourself sick, cryin that hard. And of course I followed you, I can't say I’m sorry enough for what just happened but I’m always going to try to do my best to make sure you’re safe.”

He pulled your head to his chest, your arms wrapped around his midsection, and you sobbed into his chest.

“Shhh”, Bucky whispered, smoothing down your hair, “It’s okay doll.”

You wept for awhile, eventually stopping once you had cried everything out. 

“Thank you.”, you spoke into Bucky’s chest, the vibrations radiating through him.

“Always.”

The two of you stood to your feet.

“Let’s go back to the car, okay? I need to get my phone and get ahold of Tony and Steve.”, Bucky reached back out to hold your hand.

You nodded. 

As you walked, you limped with every step, your feet having been torn up by all of the foliage you had run through. Bucky noticed you slowly falling behind. He looked down to your feet.

“How bad do they hurt?”, he asked.

“Pretty bad”, you sighed, “Running through the woods without shoes wasn’t my best idea.”

Bucky chuckled at you.

“Get on my back, I’ll carry you the rest of the way.”

You blinked at him.

“Bucky you literally just got shot.”

“So? I can’t carry you just because I got shot? Get on my back I’ll be fine.”

You realized the man in front of you wasn’t budging and you jumped up onto his back. The two of you finally made it through the clearing of trees, heading back up the small slope of grass back up to the car. Steve and Tony stood near the Mustang, two black SUVs parked near them. 

“Holy shit.”, Steve said, spotting the two of you.

Both men rushed to you.

“We found the shooter's car abandoned with the tire shot out. Sam and some other guys are trying to locate them right now.”, Tony informed Bucky, “Also what the hell happened to the two of you, no offense you look like shit.”

“Well, I got shot.”, he said nonchalantly, setting you back down, purposefully leaving it up to you if you wanted to mention what had just occurred in the woods.

“Where at?”, Tony asked.

Bucky shrugged himself out of his suit jacket, a small hole in his shoulder oozed blood, staining his dress shirt. Steve let a low whistle.

“Well the good news is, it’s not going to kill you.”, Steve started, “But healing from it is going to be a bitch.”

“Yeah no shit, Steve.”, Bucky laughed at his friend.

The three men discussed how they were going to meet back at Bucky’s home. 

“Once we get back, I want Bruce to look at Y/N’s feet first, then he can check up on me.”

Tony and Steve nodded, knowing it was going to be pointless to try to convince him he should get seen first, Bucky wasn’t going to change his mind. 

You, Steve, Bucky all headed towards Steve’s SUV, Tony walking to his own car. 

“I’ll get Scott to get the Mustang towed to your house.”, Tony called to Bucky before he jumped into his vehicle. 

Steve went ahead and got into the driver's seat, starting his car. Bucky opened the door behind him, helping you up into the backseat. 

“I’m going to be right back, I’m grabbing our stuff out of my car.”, he squeezed your hand, “And I promise, as soon as my doctor gets us fixed up, I will explain everything to you.”

“Okay.”, you replied softly.

Bucky closed the door as he headed back to his car. He picked up all of your belongings and turned back to Steve’s vehicle. Opening the passenger side backdoor, he jumped into the backseat with you.

The drive to Bucky’s house was calm. The two men in the car talked back and forth as you stared out the window, blocking out their conversation. You had locked your pinky with Bucky’s, needing to have something to ground yourself, keeping you calm. 

A half-hour later and the two black SUV’s pulled up to a large gate. There was a small guard shack in front of the entrance and a young man sat inside of it. As Steve rolled up to the booth, the guard nodded his head at him, pressing a button, rolling the gate open.

The house wasn’t a massive mansion as you had expected for someone with Bucky's wealth, but instead a large beautiful farm house. A covered porch wrapped around the front of the house, there were pots with large blooming mums decorating the steps leading up to the door, and big windows covered most of the home. 

“I'll let Bruce know what’s going on,” Steve said as he threw the car into park, exiting the car and hurrying inside.

Bucky got out of the car as well, coming around to where you sat, and opening your door.

“I’m going to carry you inside okay?”

You nodded your head. 

Once you got out of the car, Bucky situated you on his back once again, lifting you easily. He moved towards the front door of the house. Tony had exited his car and ran up the stairs before the two of you, opening the door.

“Thanks Tony.”, Bucky said. 

As he stepped inside with you in tow, you looked around your surroundings. The interior of the home was immaculately decorated, almost looking like a page out of Homes & Gardens magazine. Before you really got a chance to take it all in, Bucky moved down a hallway to your right. He walked past several doors, before entering one. 

Inside the room sat Steve and another man you hadn’t met you, who you assumed must be Bruce. A medical kit sat in front of him. 

“Bruce this is Y/N, Y/N this is Bruce.”, Bucky introduced the two of you.

“Nice to meet you.”, Bruce directed to you.

“Nice to meet you too.”, you smiled at him. 

You were in an office currently, bookshelves lined the walls, a few small couches sat opposite one another with a glass table in between them, and in front of one of the large windows sat a massive dark wooden desk, paperwork covering it. 

Bucky sat you down carefully. Bruce instructed you to sit down on the couch across from him, having you put your feet up on the table, giving him easier access to disinfect and wrap them.

Bruce smiled at you, reaching for a bottle sitting on the table, “Let’s get the two of you fixed up.”

PART SIX

TAGLIST IS OPEN!! LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT ADDED!

TAGLIST ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ @danzer8705 @sebastians-love @mrsnikstan @mgchaser @singsosworld @moviegurl2002 @akiyhara @multifandom-boss-bitch @dopewerewolfdaze @jules-and-gems @scott-loki-barnes @baebank @calicoootalks @dumblani @watarmelon212 @haven-in-writing @barnesxstan @alilstressyandlotdepressy

[lex-the-flex]

34 + 35

Hugh Jackman x reader

Summary: After attending a long and exhausting event, all you want to do is enjoy a coffee espresso, but life has other plans.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warning(s): MEGA FLUFF, Hugh being a LITERAL sweetheart + gentleman, slight angst, dealing with a walking red flag, mentions of stalking (?), BRIEF & MINOR sexual assault/situation, brief cursing, minor violence (just an idiot getting punched in the face), Hugh being your shield, and me gushing about museums. (I'm envisioning this taking place when Hugh was a bit younger).

A/N: I can TOTALLY imagine this being one of my MANY meet-cutes with Hugh and a girl can dream! Feedback is appreciated and enjoy!

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll please follow me back to the dining hall, we will now open the bar and you are free to wander through the museum at your leisure. Thank you for all of your hard work and enjoy the remainder of your evening.” The museum’s director announces, leading the group back inside the building.

Sighing in relief at the cool night air, the instant relief of being able to finally stretch your legs after sitting for more than two hours hits you hard. Glancing down at your watch, you read the time; 11:28 pm.

Silently groaning to yourself, all you wanted to do was take off your makeup and go to sleep in your hotel room. But you couldn’t. The event wasn’t scheduled to end until one in the morning, and the truth was: you secretly wanted to die. While you weren’t the biggest fan of wearing dresses, much less an elegant, custom-made slip gown that was dyed a deep charcoal, this one had its charm. You felt like a warrior adorned for battle. 

Heading back inside the grand museum, the elegant dining room never fails to revive your soul. The dark atmosphere accompanied by the warm lighting felt unreal, like you shouldn’t even be here. But here you were, standing in one of your favorite places in the entire world. Walking towards the bar, you spot an empty seat on the end, so you take the opportunity before anyone else can. 

“What can I get you?” The bartender asks. 

“Um, may I have an espresso martini?” You ask, setting down the drink menu. 

“It’ll be about five minutes. We just finished cleaning the machine.” She replies, taking your drink ticket. 

“Okay, that’s fine.” You answer. 

Smiling back at you, the bartender hands the ticket stub back over to you now dotted with a black check mark. Leaning against the bar, you patiently wait for your drink and decide to look up some of the works of art that were on display in the building. You start to finally feel relaxed knowing you’re allowed to walk freely throughout the art gallery and the mere anticipation makes butterflies rise in your stomach. 

However, the excitement comes to a dead stop the second you accidentally look up from your phone and make eye contact with some young, blonde rich-looking scumbag who was sitting at the other side of the bar. Promptly leaving his seat, the man makes his way over to you.

“Hey, what’s your name? I’m Max.” He flirtatiously asks. 

Bracing himself against the edge of your personal bubble, you try your best to ignore him and the scent of vodka on his lips. Returning with your drink, you thank the bartender and spin in your chair to stand, but the partygoer stops you. 

“I asked you a question, sweetheart. I just want to know who I’m meeting.” Max explains, taking a hold of your shoulder. 

The cold sensation of his hand being incredibly unwelcome on your exposed skin sends a threatening chill down your spine. 

“I’m sure any other girl would enjoy your company. So leave me alone.” You rebuttal. 

Chuckling at your response, the guy leans closer, breaking your precious personal bubble. Max’s fingers hover around the bare skin of your naked thigh, dancing above your freckles. The echoing sound of your heartbeat fills your ears as you couldn’t breathe. 

“Come on, baby. What do you say we get out of here, huh?” He whispers in your ear. 

Seeing red, you instinctively shove Max away from your body. 

“No!” You exclaim.

At the same time, however, someone else was pulling him off of you. Stumbling against a spare fridge, Max knocks into the stranger that had the decency to save you. 

“Look bud, she said no. She’s with me, you understand? So back off.” The stranger threateningly explains, letting his thick Austrian accent take over. 

Cowering away from him, Max playfully raises his hands in defeat. 

“Alright man. You win.” Max teases before walking into the crowd. 

Watching him walk away, you turn your attention towards the kind soul who saved you from something potentially traumatic. 

“Thank you.” You manage to say. 

“You’re welcome, it’s the least I can do.” He replies. 

Standing from your seat, you flash him a quick smile before heading to the art gallery. Exhaling at the entire encounter, you manage to find a wooden bench in the middle of the room and sit down. Rubbing your fingers together, you notice that your hands haven’t stopped shaking, so you reach into your bag for a moment, only to realize that you left your phone at the bar. 

Scoffing, you hesitantly pull yourself together, ready to make the walk of shame back into the dining hall when the sight of the kind stranger stops you in your tracks in the doorway. 

“Hi.” You say. 

“Hi.” He replies with a smirk. 

Walking towards you, he holds up your phone in his hand. 

“You uh, left this at the bar and I didn’t want that asshole to have it. So I thought I’d return it to you.” He says. 

Handing your phone to you, he sits down next to you. 

“Thank you. …And thank you for helping me at the bar. That was the last thing I expected to happen tonight.” You admit. 

Forcing the rising wave of tears back down, you finally put your phone away before deciding to break your shyness to meet new people. 

“I’m Y/N, by the way.” You introduce yourself. 

Extending your hand to the handsome stranger, he gently takes your hand in his, holding it like a gentleman should. 

“It’s lovely to meet you. I’m Hugh. And I’m glad I got to know your name before that asshole.” He replies. 

Laughing at his answer, Hugh lightly chuckles along with you. Looking up at him again, his light hazel eyes and dark brown hair seem to put in a near trance-like state, including the fact that he looks amazing in just a regular suit and tie. Glancing back into your e/c orbs, you feel safe with Hugh by your side, and you didn’t seem to know or understand why. It just felt right. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, what's a normal person like you doing here? This place definitely seems out of your league.” Hugh asks. 

Furrowing your brows, you lightheartedly place your hand over your heart, and pretend to gasp. 

“Wow. I can’t believe you, Hugh. You actually think I’m normal?” You tease, earning yourself a laugh from the man across from you. 

“You know what I mean.” He responds. 

“The company I work for wants me to expand my idea for this article I’m writing. They actually want to know if rich people, including celebrities, truly appreciate the arts and other historical pieces in history.” You explain. 

“Ouch. That hurts you know. Well, if it’s any consolation, I for one do enjoy the arts. I mean, you’re talking to a theater kid here. So the arts sort of come naturally to me.” Hugh replies, feeling hurt for a moment, but he quickly shifts the tone. 

“Then can I interview you? You seem like one of the few knowledgeable people here. I wish more people like you would attend these events than the rich boys who are thriving off of their parent’s money and think they can get away with–” You begin, but slowly trail off in slight terror. 

Suddenly, appearing in the doorway, Max appears to have found you, and that he has been eavesdropping on your delightful conversation. 

“What is it?” Hugh asks, going off the look on your face. 

Turning around to the doorway, Hugh’s kind look drops almost instantly, and you stand from your spot at the bench. Following suit, Hugh fixes his jacket before giving you all of his attention. 

“What did he exactly do to you, Y/N? We can go if you like.” Hugh firmly states, stepping closer to you. 

Briefly holding the brim of Hugh’s jacket, you inch closer so that Max wouldn’t hear. 

“Hugh, he… He tried to…” You can’t bring yourself to tell Hugh, allowing your tears to shed. 

Instantly understanding what you mean, you swear that Hugh’s once calm and peaceful eyes light up with fury, now knowing that this douche tried to violate and humiliate your charming and innocent soul. Hugh understood that you, a young woman such as yourself shouldn’t have to experience something like that. 

So he knew what he had to do, regardless if it would get him banned from this museum for life.

“Look, buddy l’m not looking for trouble. I do appreciate you keeping her company, though.” Max tries again, hoping to win you over. Except this time, he’s a little more drunk. 

“God, when will you learn? Some women actually have the common sense to avoid guys like you.” Hugh spits. 

“Well, most women prefer the young rich guy who can take them places instead of the boring washed-up actor who still chooses to be in shitty superhero movies!” Max shouts, causing you to flinch.

Attempting to walk towards you, Max doesn’t seem to take the obvious hints, and he unfortunately takes the blunt end of the stick. Punching him in the face, you and Hugh watch Max fall to the floor. Groaning in pain, Max wipes his bloody nose as Hugh takes you by the hand, leading you out of the museum.

Taking your shoulders, Hugh calmly recenters himself. 

Pulling Hugh in for an embrace, he welcomes it and tightly holds your frame. Squeezing his broad shoulders, Hugh calmly sways you from side to side. 

“It’s alright. He won’t bother you anymore. I promise.” Hugh announces. 

“Thank you, Hugh. I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if you hadn’t showed up.” You reply, slowly ending the hug. 

“Of course. Now, what do you say about starting that interview?” He asks, waving to the valet employee. 

“I’d love to.” You answer with a smile, knowing that this is the start of something spectacular.

wolverine/hugh taglist ~

@dreamliners

@chronicallybubbly

@dontfeedthebigbadwolf

@the-resident-vampire

@ovaryacted

@misssarcasm15

@yellow-eyed-sams-wife

@lost-in-horrorland

@peterparkernotfound

@pcrushinnerd

@quillycrow

@till-hes-90

@the-moth-archives

@stilllivindue2spite

@wolviesgal

@mostly-marvel-musings

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Workplace 2.0

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Dick Graysonx (f)reader /Nightwing x (f)reader

Tags: slight NSFW, secret identity, vigilante reader, office romance, blood, gunshot wounds, slightly toxic Dick Grayson, semi public make outs, coming untouched,

It had been a week since Dick had seen you in the field. A week since he'd caught his cute, overachieving co-worker scaling rooftops in a black balaclava, soliciting into construction sites, and taking confidential documents out from under the noses of Blüdhaven’s criminal underworld.

The night you two spent in your apartment tangled in his arms still lingered in his mind. It wasn’t just the way he enjoyed making you come again, and again, or that he had stayed too long afterward, watching over you like some lovesick idiot. It was how, even in daylight at the office, he still saw the girl from the rooftops in the woman standing before him.

At work, you were polished and professional, very much the lawyer everyone knew you as. Hair neatly pulled into a ponytail he wanted to tug on. Ironed blouses and tailored skirts made his imagination go insane.

But the dark circles under your eyes betrayed you.

"Late night?" he'd asked you one time, keeping his tone casual, though he already knew the answer. Just five hours ago, as Nightwing, he had you pressed against a wall as the two of you eavesdropped on Blüdhaven’s kingpins and collecting evidence for your case.

He knew your secret identity; you didn't know his.

No, he was just your good friend and co-worker, detective Dick Grayson. Who could suspect he was Nightwing, the charming vigilante that had you moaning helplessly mere nights ago...

You had nearly jumped out of your skin at his question, clutching your coffee. "Detective Grayson! Hi! No! I mean… Just… work, you know how it is."

Dick bit back a smirk. Adorable.

"I see those autopsy reports proved useful?" he teased, raising a brow.

"Yes!" you said too quickly, eyes darting away when you blushed. "Thank you for those. The case against MacKenzie is moving forward."

"Glad I could help." He flashed you a signature boyish grin before heading out the door, but not before catching the lingering flush on your cheeks.

Since then, he had returned to his usual routine of work and patrols. Alone. Because, for once, you weren’t out there stealing case files or dodging security cameras.

At least you were getting some sleep.

At least you were safe.

He miscalculated.

"Nightwing, get down!"

The warning came from a familiar feminine voice, a split second before a small body slammed into his.

Nightwing barely had time to register what was happening before he hit the ground, breaking the fall with his body as a shot rang put in the warehouse. He twisted, instinctively cradling you against him.

Then he saw the blood.

His heart stopped.

"Trouble?" He asked using the nickname he used for you. "What-" His words died in his throat as his gaze locked on the deep dark red drops seeping through your side onto the floor.

"S-sniper-" you gritted out, voice tight with pain and muffled through your makeshift mask. You pointed a finger up.

Dark blue eyes snapped in the direction you indicated.

A man was perched on the ceiling beams, rifle trained on him. On the two of you.

Shit. How did he not account for that?

Another shot rang out.

Instinct kicked in as Nightwing moved the two of you behind a crate, shielding you as best as he could.

"I’ll be fine," you panted, clutching your side. "Get him!"

Dick clenched his jaw. He wanted to argue you not to play hero when you were already bleeding out. But another bullet whizzed past and wedged into the metal inches from his head.

With quick precision, he calculated the trajectory before flicking his baton. It ricocheted off the steel beams, striking the sniper’s wrist hard enough to send the gun flying. A sharp yelp of pain followed, then a thud.

The gunfire stopped.

Dick wasted no time. In one swift motion, he scooped you up in his arms and ran off to his car.

You whimpered as he laid you down on your living room couch, the pain visibly tearing through you.

"You’re gonna be okay," he promised, forcing his voice to stay steady as he worked to tear away the layers of clothing to remove the bullet. The hospital was out of the question. There would be too many questions and too much risk of exposure.

He knew from personal experience that someone practicing the law wouldn't want to be exposed as a vigilante.

Your fingers clenched into fists, your body trembling as he cleaned the wound. "Is… is there a lot of blood?"

"Nothing you can’t handle." His throat felt tight. His hands, usually steady, were shaking as he rummaged through his first aid equipment in his utility belt.

Tears slipped down your cheeks, and his stomach twisted at the sight.

"I’ve never been shot before," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I wouldn’t recommend it," he said jokingly as he pulled out the metal ball, making you groan.

You let out a weak, breathy laugh. "Have you?"

He met your gaze. "What?"

"Ever been shot?" You clarified.

"More times than I’d like to count." He nodded.

"It hurts." You said.

"Correct."

The morphine was making you hazy. He could see it in the way your eyelids drooped, in the way your words slurred together.

"Am I gonna -"

"Not on my watch," he cut you off firmly. "Not after you saved my ass and made me look like a damn pussy out there." He spoke as he finished stitching you up, before placing a bandage on you.

Your weak laugh turned into a pained wince. "Don’t make me laugh."

"They say it’s the best medicine."

You swatted at him half-heartedly. "Stop it."

His smile wavered. The lump in his throat grew. He exhaled, tension coiled tight in his chest. "You scared me tonight, Trouble."

"I had to save you." Your voice was barely audible now, words slow with exhaustion. "You’re more important than m-"

"Stop." His tone was sharp, more serious than you’d ever heard it. "Thats not true."

Your lashes fluttered, but he wasn’t sure if you even processed what he said. It didn’t matter. He had meant every word.

You weren’t just a lawyer. Or a vigilante. You were a good person. The kind that put her life on the line to hold the corrupt people of the city accountable. The kind that could make a difference. And tonight, you had almost died for it.

For him.

With a clenched jaw, he tucked you under the blanket, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "Get some rest," he murmured.

You sighed, sinking into the couch, sleep pulling you under.

Dick sat back, exhaling shakily. He ran a hand through his hair before pinching the bridge of his nose, overwhelmed by the knot of emotions warring inside him.

"Mmm… Nightwing…"

He stilled.

Your voice was barely a murmur. "Trial… tomorrow…"

His jaw clenched. "You’re not going."

A weak whimper of protest. "Mmm-no… I have to-"

"Out of the question, Trouble. You’re staying home, and that’s final."

You showed up at the trial the next day.

Despite your fucking GSW, you showed up.

Dick was standing with his fellow detectives, bagel in hand, when he heard the commotion. The moment he saw you walking out of the courtroom doors with your team like nothing had happened, like you hadn’t been bleeding out in his arms hours ago, he nearly dropped his bagel.

You were even wearing heels.

His brain short-circuited. He had barely been able to move after getting shot, let alone haul himself to work.

Oh, fuck.

He knew that look in your eye. That distant, glazed-over look.

You were hopped up on painkillers.

Oh god, you reckless, stupid girl.

He wanted to go over to you, but you were shaking hands with the defense. The court proceedings must have concluded for the day.

He strained his ears to try to catch the conversation taking place between you and your team.

"Hey, you okay?" You fellow persecutor leaned over to ask you quietly. "You look a little pale."

Your shoulders tensed, but your facial features remained calm. "Yeah, I'm alright." You offered a fake chuckle. "Its just really cold outside.

Liar.

Dick was both exasperated and concerned, although anyone looking at him would have perceived it as glaring.

"Did you injure yourself?" The attorney asked, eyeing your side, where your hand held the side of your stomach.

You brushed him off. "I'm alright, Aaron. Thanks for your concern."

Dick recalled how many painkillers it took him to function the first time he got a gunshot wound. It wasn't pretty. You were lucky to be alive. Let alone awake. And your hollowed cheeks and dark circles under your eyes showed how forced your conscious state was being.

Before he could storm over, a loud bang rang out from down the hall. Someone had dropped a briefcase and the thumb echoed through the halls.

The rest of the staff paused for a moment before continuing their engagements as usual.

All except you.

You were frozen. Panic seized your features.

Dick moved before he even had time to think, his grip firm but careful as he guided you out of sight.

“Come with me,” he murmured, his voice low.

Your breath was quickening as your hands trembled.

All it took was that damn sound ringing out, and suddenly, you were back in the alleyway, clutching your stomach as you fell on the cold, wet ground.

You began to panic. Your breathing speeding up.

Then, someone was pulling you into a quieter room.

You blinked to see Detective Grayson in front of you. You grasped at the fabric of his uniform, clutching it tightly as your heaving breaths refused to steady. The painkillers coursing through your veins made it worse, amplifying your emotion, fear, and pulsing pain at your side.

"Y/n," Grayson murmured, his voice low and steady, a lifeline in the storm. He pressed his forehead to yours, grounding you in his warmth. "You're okay. You're okay, sweetheart. It was just a briefcase."

"Dick-" You trembled against him, and before you could spiral further, soft, feather-light touches enveloped you in a warm embrace.

He cuppied your cheek softly murmuring reassurance that slowly anchored you as you fought to take control of your gasps. He pressed his forehead to yours, whispering, "It's not real. You're safe. I've got you." His words pulled you back, anchoring you to the present.

His voice… there was something so achingly familiar about it. You couldn't quite place it, but it soothed you, eased the panic clawing at your chest.

"Dick…?" you rasped, your voice barely audible, but he heard it.

He slowly, he pulled back, guilt flickering in his eyes. "You alright?" he murmured, his voice hoarse, as if he'd overstepped some invisible boundary.

Your heart raced, not from fear this time but from something else. Studying his beautiful features, the black hair framing his sharp angular face, and light blue eyes filled with worry. He looked like a prince straight out of a fairy tale, keeping you safe in his capable arms.

"Can I… kiss you?" The words slipped from your mouth before you could think better of it.

His eyes widened slightly, and he blinked, caught off guard.

For a moment, you thought he'd say no and pull away out of disgust, but instead, his hand reached up to cradle your cheek.

Slowly he leaned in. When his lips met yours, it was like the world melted away. You leaned into him, seeking the warmth and safety of his touch. His mouth was firm yet tender, his movements careful, almost hesitant, as though afraid to shatter you.

But hesitation gave way to need, and when his tongue brushed against your parted lips, you wanted more. The kiss deepened, and you clung to him, wrapping your arms around his neck as if he was the only thing keeping you tethered to the ground. You felt soft, wet kisses trailing down from your mouth and further to your chin, then throat, accompanied by wispers of, "You're safe, you're with me, angel."

Oh god, it was so intimate. You wimpered against him as he held you up against the filing cabinet. But neither of you coukd stop. You tried to rationalize it in more mind. Could it be the adrenaline? The heat of the moment?

Regardless, your bodies were moving on their own, each limb caressing the other's counterpart as you were tangled in each other's arms. The painkillers amplitlfied each sensation tenfold. Where you felt warm was now fire. Where you felt soft was silk. And where you felt excited were waves of vibration, washing through you like a warm and welcoming bliss.

"You're here," you whispered between ragged breaths. "Don't leave. Please stay."

His grip tightened around you, his fingers threading through your hair, pulling you closer, as if he, too, needed this moment to prove that you were safe, alive, and with him. You felt a familiar rush in the pit of your stomach, sending a spark of pleasure straight down to your clit. Your body shook, not with fear, but with pleasure. The blissed out feeling mixed with the pain made for an odd yet addicting combination. And your fingers weaved into his locks to grasp his hair as you came untouched against your co-worker.

"I'm here," he panted, voice thick with emotion as he held you through it. "I won't leave you."

When you sat up in your bed the next morning, sore and woth an odd sensation of euphoria, the question kept repeating in your mind.

What had you done?

Taglist

@girlofgodm

@shelby-x

@lokiworshipper13

@bookwormO-O

@justalotofcoffeeandbooks

@justissimp

@riaaavm

@smurfelle

@mikimumiki

@starshinegrl

@boywondrgrayson

[plasticferal]

keeping score | matt & chris sturniolo.

prologue: 'they say love is the sixth sense that destroys all other five senses’

authors notes: 1.9k, explicit language, reader discretion is advised. welcome to my first series, please enjoy the ride.

they both want you. the only way matt and chris can agree to settle who wins is through competition, one where you’re the prize. your own heart is torn between the two brothers. the thing is though, love doesn’t keep score.

they have two very different experiences to offer. two sides of the same coin. a coin you refuse you flip and settle on.

matt is the first to catch your eye in any room. he makes you nervous. butterflies, awkward laughs, stuttering over your words. all of it. you like him. you’re unsure if he feels the same toward you.

however, you also like chris. the compliments he showers you in, the subtle flirting, the way he softens his tone around you, how giving he is, the way he’s so shamelessly himself. the list goes on. he’s different. 

it’s a weird triangle of intrigue and unrequited feelings that lingers and is never acknowledged.

you’re already convinced it’ll never happen. with either of them. you’d be putting too much at risk considering how deeply you value your friendship before anything else. the fear of falling in love, and losing them both. 

which might just be your karma for being into both brothers. 

they occupy the living room. you’re upstairs, using nick’s bed to take a nap while he showers, and he takes long showers. he’s always given you a safe space in the house, to make it feel like home. 

you love to annoy chris and matt by stealing their clothes, blankets, soft drinks out of the fridge, tagging along to every late night drive and fast food pick up. 

they share everything with you, but you designate yourself in nicks’s room as to not stir up any terrible, rash decisions on your accord.

being fast asleep and tangled up in crisp, cold, silk sheets, it’s a deep sleep. completely escaping into your dreams.

you’re left unaware of the chaos that’s about to ensue in the living room between the two brothers who occupy your mind. chaos is the score in which reality is written upon.

“you like y/n, right?” matt asks chris. 

you’ve had a strange feeling for a while now that matt is trying to set you up with his brother. which, as flattering as it is, it’s bittersweet. 

matt is sinking lazily into the lounge while scrolling through his phone, on the furthest left. chris is on the furthest right with his feet kicked up on the coffee table. 

they’re in direct view of each other on the L shaped couch. not in a literal sense, just in proximity. neither brother is actually looking up from a screen of some kind.

“what?” chris snaps his head toward matt, diverting from the television for a moment. 

“just answer the question.” matt huffs.

“of course i like y/n. she’s the closest person in our life besides like, nick” chris shrugs, going to look back at the screen again. 

matt groans in disappointment at his response. 

“you know i don’t mean it like that.” matt sits up slightly, readjusting his position and posture.

“god here we go again.” chris runs a hand down his face, fearing his brother's next words. 

“how do you really feel about her?” matt pries. 

unusual for him. out of character even, chris is usually the one who needs to know everything all the time, and is never afraid to ask the hard hitting questions, as annoying as it may be. but not with this topic of conversation.

the difference is, chris does it because he’s genuinely curious. matt asks questions for his own selfish reason, to chris’s oblivion. 

chris needs reassurance that he’s making the right decision in not pursuing you. matt needs to know if or when he’s going to have to compete. little does he know that time is nearing. 

“man, i don’t know. i just- i like her. can’t we leave it at that?” chris’s tone is anguished. 

“you’re avoiding the question-”

“i answered your question!” chris cuts matt off before he can fully form his sentence, and matt’s jaw tightens. 

“fine, whatever.” matt waves his hands in the air with defeat before diverting back to his phone, leaving chris to linger on his words.

“i’m never gonna make a move. i know how you feel about her, too.” chris huffs, as though he’s annoyed at the response he’s had to give.

“what’d you mean?” matt gives chris a glare, like he’s daring his next words.

“you know exactly what i fuckin’ mean” chris scoffs, shifting in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and pulling the sleeves of his gray hoodie past his knuckles.

matt takes a loud inhale through his nose and exhales through his mouth 

“we can’t just keep pretending that we both don’t want her.” matt drops his phone onto his stomach face down, being slightly slumped. 

“i’ve been fine pretending” chris throws the hood of his sweatshirt over his head to hide his eyes more from matt, a natural reaction to not enjoying the grilling. 

“well if you don’t make a move, i will.” matt’s tone is serious.

“you wouldn’t.” chris deadpans, a sincere tone of disbelief seeping from his lip that he’s now biting the corner of.

“you’ve been saying you’re gonna make a move forever and haven’t done shit."

he knows it’s not nice, but there’s something about the lack of passion from chris despite the obvious crush just makes matt's skin crawl. if someone is going like you and not do anything about it, matt is more than willing to shoot his shot, give you what you deserve. 

“that’s not fair” chris twists his face, glaring at his brother. 

"i think it’s more than fair play at this point, kid.” matt scoffs.

if looks could kill, matt would be dead.

all those times you’ve perceived matt bringing up chris to entice you have just been a ploy to gauge how both of you feel. he knows it’s manipulative, but no harm, no foul.

the worst part is, chris isn’t actually even sure he wants a relationship. he’s infatuated by you, undoubtedly. matt on the other hand would marry you with a paper ring. 

they’re both scared of their own feelings, and the intentions that might come along with them. they don’t ever want to hurt you, but their carnal desire is misleading their moral compass.

“alright then,” chris starts, matt’s words hitting a nerve for him. he slaps his hands onto his thighs and sits up in his spot. 

“how do we settle this? who gets her?” chris continues, staring at his brother intently now.

“i don’t think we get to make that decision.” matt shakes his head, bringing his hand to his mouth as he begins to bite his nails, which muffles his words.

“you’re right, we don’t. but we’re gonna have to compete for it to even be an option.”

“compete” matt repeats chris’s words with a sour huff, a slight arrogance in the sense that he doesn’t view his brother as a threat. 

not when it comes to you, and there might be a small part of that statement that’s correct. you have a sweet spot for matt, which fires up chris even more. he is conscious that he’s the underdog, as much as you try to show an even amount of attention to the both of them.

“what’s wrong? you scared you’ll lose?” chris taunts. 

“that’s the least of my worries.” matt scoffs, his mind traveling down every possible path this terrible idea could go down. 

“fine, then you won’t be afraid of a little competition.” chris says nonchalantly, pushing back with the same energy matt’s been giving, turning the tables.

“what’s your plan here? we just tally up the moments we get with her until someone wins? to boost our own egos?” matt speaks with his hands.

“i do love to have my ego stroked” chris grins to himself, the thought of you crossing his mind as the words leave his mouth. his train of thought tends to wonder easily.

“seriously, chris, how do we plan on settling this?” matt rubs his hands together, like the action you do when you’re trying to stay warm. 

“i think there’s only one answer to that.” chris responds, in a “duh” tone, without explicitly sharing what’s on his mind.

their sixth sense of being able to unpack each other's minds sparks like an electrical fault in the moment. of course, neither of them hate the thought of getting you in bed. they just hate the thought of you being unaware. 

somehow it’s more challenging than falling in love, or securing a relationship. betting to sleep with you is actually the hardest challenge of them all, let alone covering all the bases in order to attain it. 

the intimacy, the intensity of it all. it just seems so unattainable. it requires them, and you, to be completely and utterly vulnerable. 

“that seems kind of, objectifying.” matt shifts his demeanour, ironic considering he sparked the conversation. 

“it wouldn’t be a competition without a challenge.” chris acknowledges, and unfortunately for the both of them, he’s right. 

“this sounds so fucked up” matt says, running his hand through his scruffy hair.

“first brother to five points takes all. all of her.” chris speaks, confidently setting up the challenge. 

essentially their plan is to see who can get the closest to you, and let the other brother suffer in watching it happen. which occurs points. loser has to back off of you completely. unless someone gets to you first, in which case all their hard work flies out the window. they won’t be making it easy for each other.

“points won’t matter when i get her into bed first.” matt’s smug, knowing it’ll make chris go insane. 

“so i take it that you’re up for the challenge?” chris ignores matt’s words with a prompt, because if he doesn’t disregard it, he’ll lash out. 

matt considers it. at least he acts like he does. he knows his answer. if he wants you, if either of them do, they have no choice but to compete. neither of them are sure if it’s love or lust, but they’re about to find out. 

they are certain of one thing though. they like everything about you. the way you look. the way you smell. the way you sound. they know exactly why they want you. it’s the first time ever someone has been able to grab the attention of both brothers. hence the severity of the agreement.

“when do we start keeping score?” matt responds, and that’s all the reassurance chris needs in his brothers answer. 

as if on command, you trudge down the stairs in a sleepy state. their eyes snap toward you simultaneously, and you blink repeatedly to make sure you’re seeing them right. 

you are their favorite part of every day, so it’s not out of the ordinary for them to acknowledge your entrance, but you can feel the intensity of their eyes on you with a different energy. 

with foggy vision still clearing as you rub your heavy, tired eyes, you let a small yawn escape. they both melt at the sight, despite you feeling like you’re in your least desirable state. 

you’re not even paying attention to their back and forth bickering. the sound of their voices muffling through your ears. whatever it is they’re saying, they’re not saying it loud enough for you to hear before you even make it down the stairs.

“now.” chris states, eyes snapping back at his brother as they both raise off the lounge.

all is fair in love and war.

tag list: @luverboychris @floofparker @fake-sturniolos @letstripsturniolo @imwetforyourmom @mattsneezing @mattslolita @breeloveschris @rootbeerworshiper @mattstattoo @mxqdii @tay-laaaaa @pettydollie @lacysturniolo @annamcdonalds67 @landrysflannel @goandcomebsck @sleepysturnss @call-me-ninaaa @lustfulslxt @txssvx

[haveihitanerve]

I request Bruce chasing his children down to put on scarves and gloves in the cold ass winter of New Jersey because despite being some of the strongest people (martial arts wise) on earth, they refuse to believe in cold temperatures and keep getting sick.

refuse to believe in cold temperatures is my new favorite sentence

anyway your wish is my command-

Kevin did not know what he was expecting to see on a Friday night at three am, but it was certainly not Nightwing and the fucking Red Hood running as fast as their legs could possibly carry them as the Batman chased after them, holding scarves and gloves in his hands.

He reached them just before they could round the corner and Kevin watched in amazement as Batman forced the gloves onto the two grown men who squirmed like five year olds.

"Don't-! wanna!" Red Hood screamed petulantly, trying very hard to escape the Bats grasp. "Your brother already has a cold!" Batman snarled back, winding a scarf around his head like he was trying to choke him.

"He doesn't have a spleen!" Nightwing argued, attempting to pull off the gloves that seemed to have some sort of suctioning power and would not budge. "They come off when its not cold. So finish patrol with them." Batman offered them both a sweet smile before grappling away before they could hit him with snowballs.

It was, probably, most arguably, the craziest shit he'd ever seen, and he lived in Gotham and got robbed by dudes wearing purple and green and asked questions before ordering their coffee.

And then it happened again. This time he was staying with his brother on the other side of town, when Orphan and Spoiler showed up. Neither seemed to be particularly cold, but Kevin remembered vividly how he and his siblings used to pretend "no its not cold!" to their mother because they had made such a fuss before but it really super was cold.

And then Batman showed up. Orphan melted into the shadows and Spoiler made eye contact with Kevin, flying across the street in an instant and pushing past him inside the apartment. His brother, wide eyed on the couch, looked between them.

"I'm not here." Spoiler hissed, forming an X with her arms. "I'm not here!" She ducked behind the couch just as Batman landed on the balcony and Kevin, he was raised in Gotham man, but he still flinched.

"Sorry," Batman grumbled, voice rough and low and also a little pouty. "I know she's inside. This won't take long." He stepped off the railing onto the balcony, but Kevin, telling his fear and survival instinct to fuck off, stepped in his way.

"She's uh- she? There's no she in our building sir. Believe me, we've tried." He swallowed, looking up into those endless white slits. The slits narrowed, and he turned to look inside. Brad was pale, but his brother, bless his heart, lifted his beer in a salute at the bat, before turning back to face the TV.

Batman looked about two seconds away from not being apologetic and screaming, but he finally gave a nod to Kevin and hopped off the balcony. Kevin didn't even bother to watch him hit the ground, because he knew he wouldn't, and cracked open the door instead.

"He's gone-" Spoiler poked her head over the couch hissing, "NO!" but it was too late. Batman appeared, one hand flinging him back up onto the balcony, and he was past Kevin before he even had a chance to scream, tackling Spoiler to the ground.

"I! Don't! Need it!!!" She screamed, struggling against him as he pinned her down, panting, legs trapping her lower body as his hands snagged her hands. "It's... for- your.. own good!" He grunted, pinning her hands down with one finally.

And as Kevin watched her buck, fruitlessly, and watched Batman slide gloves onto her hands and wrap a scarf around her neck, not effortlessly, he realized just how much of a threat Batman truly was. Sure, he had seen the Bats in action, and everyone knew the Bats were trained and raised by Batman, but he had never actually seen Batman work.

Old friends, goons, told him how he skilled, how efficient, how brutal he could be. But Kevin had laughed it off as propaganda, as some more bolstering of the Bats ego's. But now...

Batman's work wasn't effortless. Spoiler was fighting him every step of the way. But he wasn't struggling either, moving quickly, but also carefully, his hips pressing down enough to keep her still but not enough to hurt, hands pinning hers down but not enough to bruise....

Kevin knew Batman didn't kill. But he had never considered the amount of strength, precision, capability, it required. Not killing over killing had always seemed, to him, to be the easier thing. Not anymore.

Batman finished his work, standing and lifting Spoiler in one swift movement, and hauled her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She had stopped struggling at this point, and Kevin was fairly certain she was just hitting him because she could. Because she wanted to. The look on Batman's face revealed he was aware of it too.

"Thank you for protecting her." He growled, voice low but not hard. At that, Spoiler finally stilled. Kevin blinked in surprise. That was not what he had been expecting. He didn't know what, exactly, he had been, but a thank you was nowhere on his bingo card.

"N-no problem." Brad stuttered out when it was clear Kevin couldn't answer. Batman nodded to the both and left, setting Spoiler down on the balcony next to him, and wrapped his cape around her shoulders, murmuring something in her ear. She laughed, then stuck her tongue out at him, but Kevin noted how she leaned closer, wrapped herself in the warmth he provided.

Orphan materialized at their side and Batman tugged her to his side too, muttering something that sounded like admitting defeat, and Spoiler fist pumped, high fiving her. Orphan grinned and Batman rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around both of their shoulders and jumping. This time, Kevin watched until they disappeared.

[rottiens]

ਏਓ ! Content. — getō suguru x fem!sorceress reader. pinning, canon au with slight modifications (an au where getō never massacred the village and instead brought the twins to jujutsu tech), sensei getō, shy/reserved reader if you squint, some mentions of gojo (help me), very small age gap (the reader is in her early 20s and getō is 27), the reader wears her hair long enough to wear it tied back.

You stay bent over for a while longer, your face partially hidden by the worn green cap you are wearing, tousled locks escaping their confines to swirl over your forehead and the sides of your face. Your fingers, stiff around the handle of the basket begin to numb as do your knees suspended in the air halfway out of their former position. 

You were emptying the basket of apples in aisle three of Fruit and Vegetables when you were caught unawares by a customer who asked for your help. Your heart flutters and your lips, a little parched by the cool spring wind, are half-open. 

You look up from your position to finally meet the person who owns the voice, in your head everything has happened in slow motion but you are surprised to realize from the clock on the wall that not even a minute has passed. The cap hides part of the white light from your position as well as part of his face. From your unchangeable pose you get a glimpse of his broad thighs filling out the dark blue uniform pants and a glimpse of his chest down, hidden behind the jacket of the same color. 

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that?" you insist, unsure what he had asked for your help with.  

Instead, he says your name which takes you by surprise. Your name on his lips makes you feel caressed with an electric rush that runs down your spine. You press your lips together, then wet them, trying to focus more on the present than the hot sensation squeezing your lower abdomen. 

"Geto, hello." You opt to pretend you hadn't realized it was him from the first moment. 

"What are you doing here?" Suguru asks cutting to the chase as usual and somewhat incredulously glances at the place, verifying that you were indeed in the small supermarket near Jujutsu Tech. 

"I work here," you reply tightly, your grip clinging to the baskets even tighter. Then you pull your neck back a little more to check his reaction; eyebrows pressed together gently in confusion. 

"Oh," Suguru exclaims immediately, removing an unconscious pout . "I thought you were a sorceress, did you just quit?"

You squeeze your eyes tightly shut, flattered and at the same time conflicted that he knew who you were. This was not something you should be ashamed of but you are. You find yourself on your knees, on the floor with questionable hygiene in a supermarket working for minimum wage while your crush, with whom you had never exchanged more than five sentences, looks down on you like an all-powerful being. 

It felt humiliating in a way. His long black hair caught completely back in a loose low bun that seemed to have been done effortlessly, a few strands escaped giving him an appearance of casualness. You were sure he was heading to his classes, smelling as if he had just stepped out of a cold shower, Suguru exuded a mild spicy cinnamon fragrance and you forced yourself not to inhale. 

He was impeccable, while you—

Not so much. 

Finally you stretch your legs to be about his height and a cramp immediately hits your calves like a hard whip. Seeing you limp, Suguru rushes over to hold you in place with a gentle smile that fills you with warmth. 

"Are you okay?" The question sounds intimate in your head, otherwise why else would he be mumbling? He was closer this time, revealing the aroma of the coffee he'd probably had before coming here. 

His fingers disappear from your forearm and you regain your stability still with your legs tingling. 

"Thank you," you say, avoiding his eyes at all costs. "I needed more money and thought I'd get a part-time job." 

"Why didn't you apply for more missions? You could have talked to me or Satoru." 

Maybe that was the problem. There were no lower rank missions you could go on, the city had been quiet for a while now, Satoru and Suguru were taking care of the S-rank missions and third grade sorcerers like you didn't have much to do those days which meant less income.

And besides, you'd rather quit than talk to Suguru or Satoru alone, asking for more missions? You couldn't physically stand Satoru teasing you and his flirtatious personality or Suguru looking you up and down, giving you all the attention you've always craved from him (ironic, since that's exactly what he's doing now).

"I'm still new, I don't think I'll be assigned any more missions," you excuse yourself. "Besides you guys take care of the special missions, there's only so much sorcerers like me can do," you laugh dryly, trying to joke your way out of the pincer squeezing your shoulders.

Yet Suguru doesn't laugh with you even though the corners of his lips are stretched upwards giving you a flash of his pearly teeth. He looks you up and down as if scanning you which makes you feel aware of what a mess you were at that moment (your hair tied in a disheveled bun, very different from his, an olive green apron next to the cap of the same color and your blue jeans that are probably dirty from being on the floor every day). 

Finally, his eyes return to yours. 

"You have potential, I've seen you training, why don't you take the exam to move up a grade? I could recommend you for first grade sorceress even."

He had noticed you. He had actually noticed you in the field, somehow Suguru managed to hide his energy to watch you train alone maybe for hours and the thought makes you move from side to side to release tension, suddenly the air around you is very hard to breathe, heavy like a big wool blanket sinking you towards the ground making you realize that your cursed energy was leaking out of you, overwhelming you with feelings you couldn't control and you knew Suguru could clearly notice it. 

"I see..." muses Suguru in a low voice, his tone indicating that he discovered something that perhaps you were unaware of. "You can't control it, can you? That's why you abuse physical training." Just as before he again checks your body up and down, it's as if he's observing the pain in your thighs and feet, the calluses on your hands. 

The last is an affirmation so you don't need to respond. "Yeah." You still do, since responding vaguely was much better than continuing to gawk at him.  

"C'mere." Suguru takes a step forward and your muscles tense but you allow him to break into your comfort zone, he stretches out his arm showing you his open palm and you understand that you expect him to do the same as he does. Like a mirror, you raise your left hand close to his chest and he immediately takes it and begins to trace the natural lines marked on your palm with his fingertips. 

You startle, the sensation is strangely pleasurable. It makes your skin tingle. 

"Think of it as a current of wind, it flows inside you like a hurricane. You have to concentrate and imagine spirals in your hand...like this." Speaking softly, as if he is explaining to a child why the sky is blue; Suguru changes the circumference of his strokes to start spirals on your skin, numbing your senses and although it is difficult you let yourself feel the sensation of having him touching you directly and try to channel what you are feeling. "You have to learn to control your emotions to get control of your cursed energy. I can teach you." 

Was that why you couldn't feel his or Satoru's cursed energy sometimes? Do they have that much control over their emotions? His words lead you to ponder. 

"Teach me?" You parrot back, questioning his suggestion. 

"You want to learn?"

"Yes." You are quick to respond, still in the trance his caresses had led you to dive into. It was hypnotic, his touch, having him close, his scent, all your senses were excited, being assaulted by the very person who was going to help you control them and you're not sure how that's going to work. 

"Come see me after my classes. I'll be waiting for you." 

Then he pulls away from you, immediately your previously suspended arm in the air joins the other at the side of your thigh. Your hands become clenched fists, your teeth sink a little into the soft skin of your cheeks, forcing the sudden pain to keep you upright and aware because you were orbiting around him, trapped and pulled towards his body like a magnet and you didn't want to act on impulse and ask him to touch you again. 

"Today?" you question him, filling the silence with your voice.

"If you want to," he replies, almost downplaying it. 

"I do." You are quick to respond, which almost makes him smile. His lips quiver in a sort of grin that seems familiar to you (it was exactly the one Satoru wore whenever he had the chance to flirt with you).  

"I'll be waiting for you," he assures you, bringing his hand to the infinity of his pockets and you see in his posture the decision to then turn away from you and leave the place which makes you remember.... 

"Oh! Geto... were you looking for something?" 

"Yeah, right. Almond milk for my girls." He suddenly remembers, though your confused face makes him elaborate. "The twins." The mention of the pair of girls detonates flashbacks in your memories. You've heard something in the hallway, something about him being a hero and rescuing a pair of sisters from a village of non-shamans who were abusing them. However you didn't know they maintained such a close relationship, from the aura that surrounded him when he mentioned them it almost feels like a father-daughter relationship.

You nod. "Follow me."

You walk beside him and his footsteps immediately follow the trace of yours, so silently that you seem to be alone. You can't feel him, but the sensation of being watched is always on you, heavy like cold ice pressing against the back of your neck. In aisle four you find what you were looking for, a box of red and white shades with an almond in the center, so large that it takes up a large part of the middle, it sits behind a carton of whole milk and oat milk, right in the small refrigerator at the back. 

The heat of the natural environment makes the carton sweat, wet drops sticking to your hands before you can hand it over to Suguru. 

"Thanks," Suguru says, grabbing the much sought-after almond milk. Now the twins could make that protein shake they had told him so much about. "I have to go but I'll be waiting for you if you decide to stop by."

"Sure," you assure unconvincingly to both him and yourself and turning around Suguru disappears away from you. 

Your eyes follow him to the end of the aisle, he looks huge in comparison to the store and the various aisles, at least a couple of heads bigger making it easy for him to easily peer over them if he wanted to so you doubt for the duration of a blink if he truly hadn't found the milk himself. You notice his shoulders stretch and contract every time he takes a step, only when you stop watching him do you realize that you had held your breath at some point in the past. 

On that day Suguru realized two things. First, you had (a lot of) potential and he would make you see it. You needed to work on your confidence, you just needed someone to trust you just as someone trusted him when he discovered his innate technique. The second thing is, apparently you like him as much as he likes you. 

Notes. I can't get gojo's name out of my mouth which worries me.

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

I love the way you write Logan, it's so comforting! Can't wait to see more of your work, it's lovely💗

Idk if this would be your thing so feel free to ignore obviously!

How do you think Logan's dynamic would be with a reader having intense intimacy issues, to the point where they struggle to even think about doing anything more than make out with him? I really haven't found any fic like that and I think that you would a concept like that more than justice

I do see him having some intimacy issues himself (traumatized wet cat💀)

this is so sweet, thank you so much! My brain immediately supplied a list of head canons, I hope that you enjoy <3

~ So I am thinking about Logan from the original trilogy for these in particular ~ He definitely has some intimacy issues, more so on the emotional intimacy side than physical intimacy ~That is, until he meets you. You're a professor at the school, and while he can tell you love the young mutants with a large part of your heart, you remain physically distant from them. When the Youngers ones reach for a hug, you meet them instead with a fist bump or a high five. Never cruel, but always setting your boundary. ~The first time you catch him noticing your habit, you expect him to roll his eyes, or hit you with a judgy side eye. Instead, he quirks his head and resumes what he had previously been doing. ~Eventually, the two of you start spending a lot more time together. He will nudge a cup of coffee your way, and ask after you when you have a headache. He never encroaches on your space, despite being quite touchy with the other faculty.

~You spend a week working up the courage to confront him about it, strategizing the best way to ask for the reassurance you want but have trouble asking for. You expect him to blow you off, but when you knock on his door, he ushers you inside and lets you choose where to sit in the room, choosing his seat to be close enough to show he is invested but far enough away for your comfort. It isn't even a conscious thought for him, it's natural. ~You fumble through your question, doing your best to explain your line of thinking, before eventually just spitting out "do you hate me?" ~He is so shocked that he doesn't know what to say for a few seconds, which only makes your anxiety feel worse. ~He takes a few seconds, collecting his thoughts, and then you can see the typical Logan smirk start sparkling in his eye again. "Sweetheart, it's a little hard to hate the person you're acting a fool over". Your eyes practically bug out of your skull, and he chuckles to himself. He is twitching in his seat, and you can tell he is trying his best to not gather you up in his arms. ~You extend a hand out to him, palm upturned. He takes it instantly. He raises your entwined hands halfway towards his mouth, before meeting your eyes and waiting for your reaction. ~You nod, holding your breath and he drops a kiss on the back of your hand, before adjusting so that he can kiss your palm as well. ~When he hears your heartbeat stutter, he is quick to hold your hand again, resting against his knee. He confirms that you feel the same way, insistent on getting verbal confirmation. Your face feels like it is on fire, but you reply in the affirmative. "We are going to take this as slow as you need. I... I care about you so much, and your comfort always comes before anything else." ~You feel a few tears well up, and he moves to wipe them away as they begin to fall. Again, he pauses before actually making contact with your face, waiting for your gentle nod. ~From that day on, you are even more attached at the hip than before. Logan loves knowing that you are with him for more than his body, and he is constantly making sure that you know how much he values you. ~Overall, I just imagine him being very sweet and understanding and taking it as slow as you need. He is protective of you when you meet new people, often coming in between you and others who are not as considerate as he thinks they should be. Definitely sends his protective instincts into a bit of an overdrive, but you also appreciate having the scary dog privilege when you are out in public as well. People are definitely giving you a wider berth than you are used to. You always feels safe and taken care of with him, which is exactly how he wants it to be

[buryhny]

One Night Stand; 05

➥ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

→ genre ; enemies to lovers | CEO au | pregnancy trope | slowburn

→ Jungkook x y/n → contains smut, fluff and angst → Chapter Five ; wc | 4.7k

primarily on Wattpad

index ⇢ next chapter

"Ah, fuck." You mutter softly. Your head feels heavy, with one side numb and swollen. You sit up, holding your head as you slowly open your eyes. Your vision is blurry at first, then clears, revealing the feet of a man standing before you. "Awake?" The man asks, towering over you. You look up to see Mr. Jeon. "W-where am I?" you mumble, groaning from the pain in your head. 

It seems you took quite a fall. "In my office," he replies shortly, walking to his desk and leaning against it while you adjust yourself on his velvet couch. "I must've passed out from starvation," you mumble to yourself, though your CEO hears you clearly. He frowns and tilts his head when he hears you well. "Don't I pay you enough to buy groceries or at least takeout?" he asks sharply, the man was supposed to act like he didn't hear a word but he couldn't keep his mouth zipped up. You sigh deeply. His salary is more than sufficient, even allowing you to save, but that's not the issue, it's a you problem. you've not been eating well due to the loss of appetite. 

"It's not about the salary, I just didn't have lunch, dinner yesterday, or breakfast this morning." Jungkook's scowl grows deeper by the end of your words, puzzled why you haven't eaten for so long. He'd in fact noticed you only grabbing a croissant from the café when there are more filling options. And that's the only thing he's seen you carry around, or it's what he assumes. 

He wonders if he's overworking you. "And why is that?" He seems to be quite interested in you which is very much unlike him and it honestly amuses you even though you've got that throbbing pain in your head. You rub the most painful spot on your head as you speak; "I've lost my appetite the past few days. but it's funny that you're concerned about me, Mr. Jeon. Are you?" He snorts at your question, his hip leaves his desk as he moves closer to the couch and takes a seat. "Of course not, I'm concerned about my creative team and my business." 

That was an expected answer, of course.

"But you shouldn't skip meals. It's not good for you." "Says the one who only drinks coffee all day," you retort sarcastically, making Jungkook clench his jaw. "Getting quite chatty, Ms. Lee?" You roll your eyes before wincing at the pain. He notices your discomfort as his eyes flicker to your hand that presses the spot where you hit your head. "You should take the day off and rest-" "I'm fine, and I have a presentation to finish," you interrupt, suddenly remembering your project.

You've worked hard on it and can't let Park win! Jungkook walks to his large windows, hands in his pockets. "Firstly, you're not fine, and the meeting is postponed until the creative team is available. It wasn't an official meeting anyway-" "But it's just me. I just need to present my idea."

Jungkook turns to you, now standing from the couch as he sees your wide eyes indicating how desperate you are to finish your presentation. He sighs and looks around his office. "The creative team is busy. Take the day off and rest at home. You'll be paid for a half day-" "Will Jimin take my position?" you ask, eyes growing big and pleading, he looks at them, left to right and then heaves a breath. "No, nothing will be finalized until you present your work." 

You sigh in relief, smiling softly. Jungkook turns back to the city view with his palms inside the pockets of his office pants. "You can go, Ms. Lee. Go home." "Can't I just finish my work here?" "No, come back tomorrow. Today, you're excused." You nod, understanding his concern, and head for the door. "Yes, Mr. Jeon, I'll leave now." He nods, glancing at you over his shoulder.

"Get a checkup. You need it." You stop, confused as you raise your eyebrow.  'a checkup?' "I'm fine, Mr. Jeon. I can't afford to spend money on an unnecessary checkup just because I didn't have breakfast." "I suggest you get one just this once-" "I won't waste money on a $250 checkup." Jungkook sighs, rubbing his forehead, questioning why he even bothered.

"Do whatever you want," he whispers, exhausted by the argument. You leave his office, slightly regretting your tone. On your floor, Rosè greets you with a hug. "How are you feeling?" she asks, pulling back to see your face with a concerned look on her features. You smile softly, truly appreciating her worry. "I'm fine, Rosè. I just skipped breakfast. That's all." She frowns and sighs."You shouldn't skip meals." You groan internally. You're not a baby, you eat when you're hungry.

Instead of explaining, you nod and head to your desk to gather your things. You're exhausted, both physically and mentally, you don't feel like yourself anymore. you walk to your desk to grab your belongings before leaving the building when you're greeted by the one person you did not want to meet. "Impressed by my presentation, Ms. Lee?" Not Park Jimin. He's the last person you wanted to encounter, and he had the nerve to question you instead of showing concern for your well-being. He's incredibly arrogant and completely repulsive. You didn't bother to reply to him.

You ignore him since your head is throbbing. He leans against your desk, taunting you. "You fell hard for my idea," he laughs, that his eyes almost close. "I wouldn't be surprised if I get the position even without your presentation. You're not good enough for this company, Ms. Lee. You should stick to your café job. That was more you know, your league."

You grab your bag and walk away, not looking back, you're tired of this crap. Not today, you're not interested in messing with him. you just want some sleep. Jimin follows, annoyingly persistent. "Ms. Lee-" "Leave me alone, Park Jimin!" you scream, loud enough to turn heads.

Jungkook, just exiting his office, hears you and frowns by the loud sound of your voice and approaches. Your face is red with anger, your ears burning and so are your eyes. Jimin steps back, surprised. Jungkook doesn't like this, he's aware of Jimin's behavior towards you and other employees but he'd noticed how Park is persistent with the bulling towards you, the CEO does not encourage this behavior. You storm into the elevator, leaving everyone in shock. You don't know why you exploded, but Jimin pushes your buttons like no one else.

Jungkook remains silent, not wanting to interfere, while Jimin stands embarrassed, he rolls his eyes and gets back to his desk, so he doesn't make it more obvious with the commotion that took place.

-

You're lying on the bed, with half the evening free and nothing to do. There's only so much you can entertain yourself with, and right now, you're in the mood to do nothing. Sometimes, you feel sad that there's no one to talk to or hang out with when you're bored. You only have Kayla, and she's busy during the weekdays, and you're not really close to the other girls.

If you were back home, your mom would keep you company, asking for help in the kitchen to bake cookies or inviting you to watch her boring dramatic TV shows just so she wouldn't have to watch them alone. At least she made you feel like you had someone. But here in Seoul, you feel completely alone. You decide to relax while watching another thriller movie, and to your surprise, you receive a text message from Hoseok.

Hoseok

Hey y/n? Are you okay?

I heard you got half day because

you weren't feeling well?

Are you fine now?

Y/n

Hey, I'm good Hobi.

I passed out during the meeting,

I'm assuming it's because I didn't have my breakfast.

Hoseok

This is why you need me!

You laughed at his text because, honestly, it was true. Every morning, he would buy you a freshly baked croissant or a grilled cheese sandwich and leave it on your table since you were always running late.

That one morning, you didn't have breakfast because your appetite had been dwindling due to stress from the projects, and you ended up passing out. But was skipping breakfast the only reason you fainted? 

Y/n

Right, I can't possibly survive without you

Hoseok

ㅋㅋㅋ ㅋㅋㅋ

So did you have lunch?

Y/n

Um-

Hoseok

Okay that's it,

I'm coming there rn

Y/n

Hey no no, you don't have to

Hoseok

Send me your address

NOW!

You couldn't resist complying with Mr. Jung Hoseok's persistent invitation to come over for lunch. It wasn't lunch time now, nearing 4 pm, but you were indeed hungry. You decided to wait for him to arrive so you could enjoy a meal together while watching a movie or simply chatting. You just craved some company, and Hoseok always provided great company.

It dawned on you that this would be the first time a male friend visited your place. Sure, you'd had boyfriends before, but never just a guy friend or someone random. Glancing around, you quickly tidied up the area, picking up the dirty laundry strewn around the couch.Already dressed in a crop top and sweatpants that were decent enough, you lounged on the couch and scrolled through TikTok until Hoseok's arrival. Though you couldn't deny feeling hunger creeping up slowly. 

After 15 minutes, the doorbell rang, and you were met with Hoseok's cheerful smile as you opened the door. He looked relaxed, as if he had been spending time curled up on his bed. "Hey, Ms. Lee!" "Hey, Mr. Jung." You exchanged jokes and laughter at the doorstep before inviting him in. Leading him to the couch, you grabbed the bags from his hands and headed to the kitchen. In your small apartment, the kitchen was on the left while the TV area was on the right.

Hoseok glanced around, admiring the modern and minimalist room, quite the opposite of his own colorful and vibrant home. "This place is so cute," he commented after taking in the space. "Wait, you draw?" he exclaimed, noticing the little art pieces on the table, along with vases and canvas featuring quotes and paintings of your favorite Disney princesses and cute bunnies.

You smiled as he picked up the drawings, the first person to truly notice them. "Yeah, I used to. Not anymore," you replied, seeing him admire the pieces. A drawing of a lovely house, a portrait of a young woman, and adorable little bunnies and hares. "Why?" "Lost inspiration and had no time. Dining table or TV?" "Which is easier?" "Come on, just tell me!" "TV?" You nodded, and he helped you set the table. The aroma of Chinese cuisine filled the room.

Your stomach grumbled, and Hoseok chuckled as you both sat on the floor to eat. Everything tasted great except for the chicken balls, which usually you loved, but today tasted horrible. You forced yourself to swallow them, hoping Hoseok didn't notice your discomfort. Quickly changing the subject, you suggested, "Let's watch a horror—" "Hell no," he interrupted, choking on his noodles. Raising an eyebrow in confusion, you couldn't help but laugh when he admitted he was scared. Hoseok was embarrassed, avoiding your gaze and trying to open his Sprite. 

"You're afraid of something other than Mr. Jeon? Seems like Jung Hoseok isn't as brave as he claims," you teased, still laughing at his expense. Hoseok placed the soft drink on the table with a thud, trying to hide his embarrassment. "Y/n, stop." "Okay, okay, let's watch—" "Elemental." You agreed, and he put on the movie as you both settled on the couch with your Sprites. It was a fun time, with Hoseok cracking jokes and laughing so much that you found yourself laughing along without reason. Hearing him laugh was contagious.

"Need another Sprite?" "Oh no, I must leave now. My bedtime is in 30 minutes," he replied, surprising you with his bedtime schedule. "Damn," you chuckled, realizing he had everything pla*nned while you... didn't. He stood up after spending three hours with you, and you were surprised to see it was almost 8 pm. "It was fun, Hobi. Thanks for coming by," you said, genuinely grateful for his company.

He shook his head, indicating you didn't need to thank him. "You should come over often, you know," you suggested, and he playfully exclaimed, "Ayeeee!" As he gave you a friendly hug, you felt comforted by his warmth. A hug from a guy felt warmer and more soothing, just what you needed. "Finally, you admitted that you like my company," he joked. "When have I ever said no?"

you retorted with a smile. He nodded, walking beside you to the door. Turning back, he gave you the softest smile he could manage. "Goodnight, Y/n." "Good night, Hoseok. Thanks for today. See you tomorrow," you bid him farewell as he exited the elevator, and you walked back inside. There wasn't much to clear up, Hoseok had even lent a hand with the dishes, which was a sweet gesture. Now that your stomach was full, you decided to do a bit of work before hitting the hay. You were tired and not in the mood to watch anything new, so work it was.

While working, you realized how enjoyable it was to be in the company of a guy friend. The vibe was different. With Kayla and the other girls, it was mostly gossip and chatter. But with Hoseok, it was fun. There was small talk, but the comfortable silence you both shared was refreshing. He was so lively and humorous, making you laugh so much, it's one thing you've missed a lot, laughing. And about work, you thought about it and realized it wasn't right to yell at Jimin, especially in front of your colleagues and Mr. Jeon. 

That wasn't like you. You need to resolve that, the first thing you would do upon entering the building was to apologize to both Jimin and Mr. Jeon. It was unprofessional. You had been so loud that Mr. Jeon was bound to be upset about causing a commotion. Yes, that's what you'd do.

-

Entering the building, you felt a little nervous after the previous day's events. The plan to apologize was still on, but as you stepped out of the elevator and walked towards your desk, there was no sign of Park Jimin. It was kind of a relief, but—oh, there he is. He glanced at you briefly and walked away. You sighed, trying not to roll your eyes. It was his fault anyway. Why did he constantly tease you and humiliate you for something you didn't do intentionally? You decided to apologize later.

You placed your items on the desk, took a seat, and turned on the desktop to tackle the pending work from yesterday. It seemed quiet around, or maybe you were imagining it, but you pushed that thought away and focused on your tasks. "Ma'am? I was waiting for you," Hoseok spoke as he leaned against your desk, holding a brown paper bag in his hand. Drawing closer to him, you sighed. Of course, he's here with breakfast. "Here's your cheese and onion croissant, Ms. Lee," 

he said in his fake British accent. You took it from his hand and nodded. This man is so thoughtful, you're so grateful for his gesture although you woke up with a slightly nauseous feeling. Hoseok has got that lovely morning smile that just makes you know that the day is gonna go well. he's so bright, like the sun. positive vibes. "Thank you, Mr. Jung. you both giggled after exchanging words. "Don't leave it on the desk, have it right now. It's still warm. i got you one from the fresh just baked batch," he instructed, and you followed his advice, taking a big bite in front of him to assure him you wouldn't forget about it. the way he got you the oven fresh croissant, it's so giggle worthy.

"I'm heading to a meeting. Let's catch up at lunch." "Sure!" After he left with a soft smile, you decided to have your breakfast before diving back into work. There was nothing more embarrassing than passing out again during work. It was still puzzling to you, you had never passed out before, ever.

"Hey, Y/n, how are you feeling today?" Rosè asked, placing her hand on your shoulder like she always does. You turned to face her. "Hey, Rosè, I've been great." "That's good, by the way Mr. Jeon wants your presentation." "My presentation?" "Yes, copy it to the spare pendrive." You nodded as she left. It was a good sign that he wanted to see it; at least it showed he was interested in your work. You placed the leftover croissant aside to copy the presentation; you couldn't wait anymore. You wanted this to be over, to be chosen over Park Jimin.

You unplugged the device, took the croissant in your hand, and headed for the elevator, munching on the last bit. Knocking on his door, you asked, "May I come in, Mr. Jeon?""Come in," he replied. You quickly swallowed what was in your mouth and stood in front of him. He glanced at you before speaking, "So, you had your breakfast." You nodded, feeling conscious if you have any bits of flake around your mouth and being a little embarrassed about yesterday.

"Pendrive?" You handed it to him and asked if everything was okay and if you could leave. "How do you feel?" His question caught you off guard. Why was Mr. Jeon Jungkook so concerned about you, as if you had passed out due to some serious illness? "I'm absolutely fine, Mr. Jeon." He nodded and dismissed you without any further words.

Jungkook's pov

"Sit down, Bam," I commanded my excitable puppy, who eagerly obeyed, his tail wagging in anticipation as I filled his bowl with kibble. Every morning, like clockwork, Bam had his breakfast at 7 am, followed by a day spent in the care of Ms. Taylor, our dedicated housemaid, who ensured he had company and training while I was at work. I placed a kiss on Bam's head before heading out to work, Leaving Bam behind always tugged at my heartstrings, despite the months we'd spent together. There was a pang of guilt every time I closed the door behind me, knowing he'd be alone until I returned, often late, to find him already curled up and half-asleep.

Work had been smoother lately, a welcome relief after years of navigating through turbulent waters. The disputes between employees had been managed well, replaced by a sense of purpose and teamwork that I took great pride in fostering and managing. However, one persistent source of commotion in the office was the escalating tension between Park Jimin and Ms. Lee. Jimin was undoubtedly one of our most talented graphic designers, his ideas consistently pushing the boundaries of creativity and innovation. 

Jimin's been stirring the pot lately, causing some tension with his coworkers, mostly Lee Y/n. But when I step back and think about it, maybe he's due for a promotion considering his time with the company and the talent he brings to the table. Those upcoming presentations are going to be key in deciding his next move. Plus, dealing with this urgent task from Kim Enterprises, our rivals, is really adding to the stress. When those important documents didn't show up on time, I felt the heat rising. Can't afford any hiccups, especially with such a big client on the line.

It's almost 1pm and I haven't received it yet. "Where the fuck is it?!" I immediately phoned Hyunjin and questioned him, "Where's the file?" "Pardon Mr Jeon, which file may I ask?" "Kim enterprise's!" "Yes Mr Jeon, Ms Lee Y/n was supposedly said to have the file, I will inform her to deliver it to you." Ms Lee? That irresponsible woma- I rang up her office phone, and she answered it right away.

"Lee Y/n speaking-" "to the office now!" If she doesn't come within the next 2 minutes- "Bring it to me, right fuc- right now." Yes I shouldn't cuss but when it comes to work. If it isn't done in my way, you'll only see a new me. She looked genuinely taken back by my choice of words, it's not like I said it intentionally but I want my work done on time and done responsibly.

As the meeting drew near, I braced myself for the impending encounter with Ms. Lee, though I had little choice in the matter. Settling into my seat, I wasted no time in initiating proceedings. Park Jimin's presentation was undeniably impressive, effortlessly capturing the attention of everyone present. "Excellent work, Mr. Park," I praised him even though i disapprove of his smug behavior. He presents well, interactively and just naturally grabs everyone's attention

I could see how her confidence crumbled after Park Jimin presented. How? How is she the same woman? Alcohol does wonders. I observed her as she stood from her seat, her nervousness was evident as she prepared to present, fidgeting and taking deep breaths.

She does not seem fine, neither is her behavior normal. What's with her today? There were obvious deep lines of frown in my forehead, she looks a little pale and her behaviour is quite questionable. Is she oka- in a matter of seconds, she collapsed to the floor, leaving us all in shock.  The employees looked at each other's face and gripped the table to stand from their seats but before they could reach Ms Lee, I was already beside her, directing the others for medical assistance. "Ms Lee?" "Ms Lee?" The employees called out her name, so did I. "What happened? Why did she pass out?" "Is she even okay?" Her face was almost completely pale and she was cold. Really cold.

I placed her head on my lap, keeping calm and not panicking like the other employees. I looked at them, they stared back at my face like fools. "What are you looking at? Bring the medical team!" Park Jimin was just standing by his seat, looking down at Ms Lee who was lying on the floor. He didn't say a word. "Ms Lee?" I mumbled, hoping she would wake up but she didn't move. The medical team arrived and I asked them to take her to my office as the couches are comfortable and so is the room temperature.

"The meeting is postponed until whenever we have free time." I informed Hyunjin and he nodded to my words and I continued to follow the medical team to my office. Ms Lee was placed on my velvet couch, the female doctor examining her pulses while I stood beside her. 

"Mr Jeon, I need some time with the patient alone." "Sure." I walked out of my office, waiting by the door until I was called inside after a few minutes. "Is she alright?" I questioned the female doctor who checked Ms Lee. "She's fine, she definitely hit her head hard, placing an ice pack would help her feel much better when she wakes up, I'll get the nurse to-" "no its fine, you can leave the ice pack here-" 

"And I'm not sure if she's aware of it or not but through my physical examination, I'm guessing she's pregnant." "Pregnant?" What? I mean okay, she should know about it and inform her boyfriend and family soon too. I was still pretty surprised at it though. She could be pregnant or not? And I've surely given her more stress than she's already got. She should've told me before?

Wait, does she even know about it? "Okay, thank you." I just say to the doctor and let her out the door. Ms Lee was still unconscious, the paleness in her face has decreased alot. The dots aren't connecting, she's pregnant and that's absolutely okay, normal. So if she's in a relationship then what was that night? It's not too long ago, about 2 months even but? Okay I'm being nosey.

Back at home, Bam's presence provided a welcome distraction, but my mind kept returning to Ms. Lee and the events of the day. The revelation of her pregnancy added a new layer of complexity to the situation. Was she aware of it? Should I have noticed the signs earlier?

-

"Hyunjin, I need Mr Park and Ms Lee's presentation in their respective pen drives." "Sure Mr Jeon." I must finish this off before it gets too late. There's a meeting scheduled today for Kim enterprises and I'm feeling a little nervous.

Kim Taehyung and Kim Seokjin, the two men. The threat to our business wants us to do their ad campaign, are they in their right minds? I could've easily declined it, however, it's Seokjin and Taehyung at the end of the day and whatever I do, I can't possibly deny my own friend's deal. "Mr Jeon?" "Come in."

Park Jimin walked in with his pendrive and he placed it on the table, giving me a slight smile before bowing and then he left. I plugged his pen drive in, reading the details before another knock was heard. "Come in." Ah, it's Ms Lee. I took one glance at her and she looked no different, munching something and trying to make it less noticeable. She placed the pendrive on my table and was about to leave.

"So you had your breakfast," she simply nodded to answer my question. "How do you feel?" I'm sure I caught her off guard because she looked at me confused, because why would Mr Jeon be concerned right? I know that's what she thought, heck I'm thinking the same too.

"I'm absolutely fine, Mr Jeon." I nodded at her words and dismissed her. Once I was done with Park Jimin's presentation, I plugged in Ms Lee's and that was definitely not what I expected. Her idea was great, fucking great even better than Park Jimin's and I'm surprised, I really am. Her presentation was detailed, colourful and to the point. She's capable, she's just not as confident as Park is. She just needs a push. 

"Mr Jeon, the Kims have arrived." "I'll be there." I took the elevator, it stopped at level 22, the doors opened and my eyebrows crossed, is that Ms Lee? There she was covering her mouth and gripping the table tightly, there weren't many people around her and she was trying not to cough. Should I be concerned? I stepped out of the elevator.

She's supposed to be in the meeting too. She tapped her chest a few times and took a deep breath, walking inside the meeting room and I followed her. "Good afternoon." I greeted them as I took my seat. Kim Seokjin was present, not Kim Taehyung. That's unlike him but okay. Lesser the tension. Ms Lee was finding it difficult to breathe, I could see her from the corner of my eye as she was seated beside Park Jimin who didn't even bother to look at Ms Lee once.

"So Mr Jeon, as you know my latest collection of clothing for Kim enterprises, for the autumn are ready. Of course, Jeon Industries has the best creative team, doesn't it? The advertising campaign is all yours. I'm sure the best of the best ideas come from this very room." Kim Seokjin spoke with that smirk on his face. He's so unbelievable.

He acts as if he owns the world, but that's simply not the case.

"Surely Mr Kim. My creative team is always ready for a new challenge. What have you got for us, team?" Park was obviously the first one to boldly volunteer to present his thoughts. "Go ahead, Mr Park." As Park was about to stand, Ms Lee gripped his wrist tight. Park Jimin looked at her in confusion, Ms Lee was covering her mouth again and she looked like she was about to burst into tears.

"Are you okay Ms le-" Y/n immediately stood from her seat as she made gagging sounds before abruptly making her way out of the room, leaving everyone having exchanged puzzled glances. The costume team was now whispering to each other while Kim enterprises managers were trying to figure out the reason for her sudden departure.

The atmosphere was surely filled with curiosity and disruption. Now I'm pretty sure Ms Lee isn't aware of her pregnancy. I've had pregnant employees before and they always managed to know how to deal with it or they take a leave but Ms Lee? She seems clueless.

She remains oblivious to her pregnancy, but it's essential that she becomes aware. I can't allow her to continue to be a focal point of attention, especially if it disrupts crucial meetings. I've reached my limit; it's time to address this issue directly. to her.

next chapter ⇢

[ravennaortiz]

HEY!!!! You’re spoiling us Juicy girls and I am here for it!!!

Can I please get Fluff 24 - “how mad would you be if i kissed you?”

Thank you!!!!!

Of All the Times

Summary: Juice thought he was prepared for the birth of his son. Fluffy Story but as always 18+.

Juice was sure he was prepared. He truly thought he had thought and overthought every detail. That he had considered every change that would need to be done and when. The go bags were ready at month three. Rules handed out to friends and family by month four. Much to the annoyance of your easily disturbed bladder the house including the toilets were baby proofed. By month five the nursery was complete.

Not only does Juice attend the doctor’s appointments and parent classes with you he goes to a specific dad one. That way he can be extra prepared. When you had suggested simply talking to some of his brothers who were already dads he had hit you with a come on stare. You both had double over laughing because well he was right. He was ready he thought. He read all the books, watched videos, listened to podcasts. Made lists with questions and made sure he had them all answered.

He chatted with Gemma, Donna, Tara about motherhood and the birthing process. To get their personal insight on what their respective spouses had done wrong and what they wished they had done right. He pulled back from club stuff, not wanting to risk being locked up while you were pregnant or worse giving birth. To him that would be unforgivable.

He showered you with love, gifts and praise. Which he had always done but he turned it up to ten. He wanted to make sure you knew how much he loved and appreciated you going through changes and having to endure things he never would to bring life into this world. He endured every hard look, grumbled, sharp response and angry huff from you because he knew how much you loved him.

He thought he was prepared. So when your water broke at the clubhouse he was calm and collected. Frowning as the prospect threw up after slipping in the fluid. He gently ushered you to the car, soothing you as you cried and told him you weren’t ready. Driving quickly to the hospital, glad to see Tara waiting at the door with a wheelchair.

He thought he was prepared. He knew that with this being your first child, that labor could go for hours. He was prepared to stay by your side no matter what. No matter how many times a nurse suggested he get a nap, snack or coffee he remained by your side. Holding your hand, kissing your cheek, forehead, brushing your hair back, feeding you ice chips, soothing you with his voice and keeping you calm.

He thought he was prepared. He knew that once the pushing started things were going to get intense. He was ready for you to abuse him, curse his name, cry and yell. He was ready for what your body may do during this delicate time of ushering life into the world. He was ready to lie his ass off about what happened when you asked. What went down during labor would stay there. He was ready for any sign you were going into distress or that an emergency was happening. The two of you had talked about if he had to choose, he knew what to say.

All his preparation though didn’t prepare him for the moment the nurse handed him your little boy. To hear the cry of his son, to feel something so heavy but so light in his arms. To be sobbing and crying so hard the nurse joked he would drown your son if he didn’t lift his head. He was not prepared for the rawness of the moment. To meet your own tear filled eyes and not know how to explain how grateful and appreciative he was. As he choked on his words looking like a fish gasping for air he finally got a sentence out.

“How mad would you be if I kissed you right now?” he asked making you laugh.

“Of all the times to ask me a question like that Juan Carlos” you said as you shook your head and rubbed at your eyes. Here you were sweaty, covered in fluids and what not and he still wanted to kiss you. “But yes, yes you can”.

[babydollslibrary]

MEAN — ALEX TURCOTTE

alex turcotte x fem!reader

published: July 16th, 2023

summary: in which y/n opens up to Alex about the hate she’s been receiving from his fans

GIF by anzekopistar

y/nonthegram

liked by _alexturcotte, trevorzegras, and 7,297 others

y/nonthegram on a date and our waiter called me a bitch… anyone know what number i can call to complain?

tagged _alexturcotte and trevorzegras

user47 awww they went to dux in tux to support trevor!

_alexturcotte my girl 🖤

y/nonthegram my boy 🤍

user16 thank god she didn’t show her face

trevorzegras sorry, we don’t take complaints 🙅‍♂️ only compliments 💁‍♂️

y/nonthegram that feels very unprofessional

trevorzegras who ever said i was professional? 🤔

jackhughes my boys! looking dapper! and y/n!

y/nonthegram this is y/nphobic

jackhughes i acknowledged you, didn’t i?

y/nonthegram barely

colecaufield@/y/nonthegram i’ll acknowledge you! you look beautiful, y/n!

y/nonthegram @/colecaufield thank you! at least someone appreciates me!

user63 well… trevor wasn’t very far off

user77 have you ever even met her? she’s literally the nicest person ever

user21 she gives mean girl bitch vibes so idc

user98 impatiently waiting for him to dump her

user30 honestly, if he cheats on her on a roadie… would anyone really be upset?

user52 i know i wouldn’t! i think all of us are just praying on their downfall. like, he could do so much better

***

my eyes sting, locked to my phone screen. my hearing is muffled, drowning out the sound of my boyfriend and his best friend just feet away from me.

they sit on the coffee table in front of me, NHL 23 displayed on the tv. they shout curses at each other and the tv, trying their hardest to win for their respective teams on the video game. but my focus is solely on the comments of my most recent instagram post.

all i wanted to do was show off my boyfriend of five years. but his fans were being so mean.

it was nothing new. these comments happened on nearly every post i made. whether they were insulting my looks, or saying Alex deserved better, i could never please them.

usually, i only let myself look at the comments for a moment before deleting them altogether, but today was already a hard mental health day and these comments were hitting me where it hurts. i can’t help but dwell on them longer than usual. today they took my worst fear, and used it as a ‘what if?’ scenario, one of the meanest things they’ve ever done.

i sniffle, standing from the couch. shuffling quickly past my boyfriend, my head hanging low to try and hide my tears as i make my way to our bedroom, shutting myself in the darkened room, the only light being that of the setting california sun peeking through the curtains on the windows.

i crawl up our bed, burrowing myself in a cocoon of blankets and pillows, and turn my phone back on, scrolling through the comments once more. this time, i let my tears flow freely, silent sobs racking my body.

all the comments on my body, my insecurities and flaws, my relationship, even some accusing me of cheating on Alex with our friends. it’s one blow after another, each one cutting deeper than the last.

a loud cry escapes my lips and i clap a hand over my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut and holding my breath; praying to whatever higher power that Alex and Trevor didn’t overhear me from the living room.

my prayers go unanswered when our bedroom door creaks open, the light switch being flipped on, and two sets of footsteps enter the bedroom.

“hey, sweet girl.” i bury my head deeper under the blanket at the sound of my boyfriend’s voice. “you wanna show me that pretty face?”

his gentle tone brings even more tears to my eyes and despite knowing he can’t see me, i shake my head.

“y/n? are you okay?” Trevor asks softly. i feel them both sit on the bed as i hum out a ‘mhm’.

“you sure?” Trevor questions.

“why won’t you let us see you, then?” Alex asks. a hand finds my back, rubbing it soothingly, and the soft touch causes me to let out another cry. i hear some muffled whispering before someone rises from the bed.

“i’m gonna leave you guys to talk, i’ll see you tomorrow.” Trevor announces. “y/n, if you need me, just call and i’ll come right over.”

i hear his footsteps retreating, the bedroom door falling shut behind him before my boyfriend’s hand leaves my back, coming up on the blankets and pulling it down to reveal my tear stained face.

“hey, what wrong, baby?” his eyes are filled with worry, concern dripping from his words like honey. “why are you crying, sweet girl?”

“i’m fine.” i choke and he obviously sees straight through my lie.

“if you were fine, you wouldn’t be crying.” he shifts his body, moving to lay down next to me on the bed. his arm wraps around my waist, pulling me in close, and on instinct, i throw my thigh over his abdomen. his hand comes up to play with my hair, the tips of his fingers scratching my scalp in a calming manner.

“you wanna tell me what’s got my girl so upset?” he questions. he knows he has me in the palm of his hand. he knows exactly what to do to ease my mind and make me feel safe.

“comments.” i whisper into his chest, muttered by lips against his shirt.

“hmm?” he hums. my eyes flicker up to see his brows pulled down in confusion.

“instagram comments.” i clarify, sniffling and wiping at my nose with my hand. “some of your fans aren’t very nice.”

“wait what?” he asks. his hands pause their actions and he pulls my face back to look me in the eyes. “what are you talking about?”

“i didn’t wanna say anything. you love your fans and some of them are so sweet.” i sigh.

his expression is one of betrayal and disappointment. this is exactly why i kept this all from him. he loves his fans so much, i know he would never want to hear that some of them are so cruel.

“y/n, what are they saying?”

“just mean things. things i’d rather not repeat.” i unlock my phone, the screen still on the hate comments of my latest post, and hand it to him, letting him see them for himself.

“what the fuck?” he murmurs to himself. “why have i never seen these?”

“i usually delete them right away.” i confess. “i never wanted you to see them.”

“baby, you should’ve told me about these. these are cruel.” he scrolls through the comments, deleting every comment that isn’t necessarily considered nice.

“i know, but your fans make you so happy. i never wanted to take that from you.” i cry, burying my face in his chest.

“but you make me happier.” his hand rests on my head, the other rubbing my back. “you make me so much happier than they ever could.”

“it just hurts. it didn’t used to hurt this much, but after so long, the comments are getting to me.” i sob. “i just wanna feel okay again.”

“hey, you know nothing they said is true, right? you’re beautiful, and sweet, and the best thing to ever happen to me. you’re the smartest, most thoughtful, kindhearted, loving girl i’ve ever met. and i would never do anything to jeopardize what we have. i would never even think about even entertaining the idea of sleeping with anyone on a roadie, you know that, don’t you?”

i nod my head, sniffling. i raise my head to look at him, his eyes glassy as he wipes my tears.

“i love them, but i love you so much more. and they’re clearly not fans of mine if they think it’s okay to say shit like this about you, let alone to you.”

my insecurities get the best of me and i can’t help but question.

“you’re sure you’re not sick of me?” i whisper.

“you ever looked in my nightstand?” he asks, my eyebrows furrow in confusion and i shake my head.

“not recently, no.” i don’t understand his question, or what it has to do with mine.

he pushes me off of him, my heart sinking in my chest.

this is it.

he’s decided we’re done.

i don’t know what i’ll do without him.

he leans over his side of the bed, shuffling around in his nightstand drawer for a moment before turning back to me, something clasped in his hand.

“i had a more romantic plan, i swear i did. i had a whole speech planned, but my mom said that i should do this when it feels right. and now feels right.”

my eyes widen, my breath going shaky as i consider what he could possibly be meaning in this moment.

i sit up quickly in the bed, as he reveals a black ring box in his hands, opening it to reveal a gorgeous diamond ring.

my hands rise shakily to my parted lips, more tears gathering in my eyes as they flicker between him and the ring.

“you asked if i’m sure, and i hope that this ring shows you that i’m absolutely positive. i can’t imagine a life without you. i can’t imagine what my life would’ve been like if you hadn’t called me a ‘stupid waste-of-a-pretty-face hockey player’ when we were sixteen.”

“all you got from that was ‘pretty’.” i let out a choked laugh through my tears.

“and i’m so glad i did, because that one word was all it took for me to fall to my knees. to chase after you and annoy you for an entire year until you agreed to go out with me. and now i never want to live a life without you.

“you’re my biggest supporter, my favorite person in the world, and the only girl i ever want. i love your kind soul, and the way your smile brightens my day. i love your beautiful eyes and the way you laugh over my dumbest jokes. i love that you fought for us to stay together, even when i wasn’t sure if we would work after i was drafted. i love that you dance in the kitchen when you cook, and the way you romanticize every part of our every day lives. i love that you refuse to go to bed angry, and that you sing in the shower and make me duet you. i love you, for everything you are, and everything you will be. and i would love to spend the rest of our lives together, if you’ll marry me.”

i can’t even get a response past my lips, opting to tackle him instead, nearly knocking us off the bed. but Alex’s quick thinking saves the moment, swaying us sideways instead to land on our sides on the mattress.

i straddle his waist, knocking him on his back as my lips glide along his face, peppering kisses on his cheeks, forehead, nose, chin, anywhere i can reach, before settling on his lips.

i pour all of my emotions into this kiss, filled with love and happiness, joy and affection. i suckle his bottom lip as i pull back to look into his eyes, a large grin taking up the bottom half of my face.

“is that a yes?” he chuckles, a hand resting on my lower back, the other still gripping the ring box.

“that’s a yes.” i nod excessively, holding my left hand out for him. he smiles widely, making quick work of removing the engagement ring from the box and sliding it onto my finger.

“i love you so much.” i tell him, grasping his face in my hands as i lower my lips to his once more.

***

y/nonthegram

liked by _alexturcotte, jackhughes, and 11,759 others

y/nonthegram i said yes <3

tagged _alexturcotte

comments on this post have been limited

jackhughes HE DID IT?! WITHOUT US?! WHAT HAPPENED TO THE PLAN?!

y/nonthegram plan?

jackhughes i mean.. i’m so happy for you guys! i knew you guys were meant for each other!

y/nonthegram thank you rowdy!

_alexturcotte thanks bro!

trevorzegras HELL YEAH BRO! LOCK HER DOWN! SO HAPPY FOR YOU LOVEBIRDS!

y/nonthegram thanks Z! celebration lunch tomorrow?

trevorzegras just txt me the deets, doll!

_alexturcotte thanks bro, and thanks for keeping the secret, even though you usually have loose lips

trevorzegras@/_alexturcotte i resent that

colecaufield MY BEST FRIENDS ARE GETTING MARRIED!! CONGRATS YOU GUYS 🍾🎉🥳🥂💍

y/nonthegram thank you coley! 😙🤍

_alexturcotte thank you cole!

_quinnhughes when did you grow up? stop growing up! i’m happy for you two, but jeez y/n, i could’ve sworn you were still fourteen and stalking practices yesterday!

y/nonthegram hey! i never stalked practices! i simply liked to observe the sport!

y/nonthegram but thank you quinny 🤍 you’ll be my man of honor, right?

_quinnhughes it would be my pleasure, y/n/n

jackhughes hey! why is QUINN your man of honor and not me?!

y/nonthegram because if it’s you then you’re gonna wear a dress. you wanna be man of honor?

jackhughes ya know what? i’ll let Quinn be your man of honor. you’ve known him longest, so it’s only fair.

y/nonthegram that’s what i thought

lhughes_06 congratulations guys!! engagement party at the lake house?!

y/nonthegram engagement party at the lake house!

[wh0re43van]

Frogger- Peter Maximoff X Reader

Summary: Teasing Peter Maximoff. That's it. Thats the fic.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: A little smutty (pg 13-ish), weed, kinda slow burn

A/n: This came to me while staring at a wall for 20 minutes after five bong rips. It was written in like an hour at midnight and only proofread once; probably a fair amount of typing errors. Thank you for reading !!

Pt 2

I lay on Peters bed listening to one of his Pink Floyd cassettes and sipping on a coca cola awaiting his return. I met peter at the arcade a couple months ago and we hit it off immediately… well, after we finished arguing over who got to the Pac-Man game first. He zoomed in front of me, seeming to appear out of thin air. I yelled at him, saying that I was there first and I had already put my token in, after he backed down, then we hit it off. He showed me some secretes he’d learned about the game then we went to get coffee. I’ve spoken to him almost every day since. He quickly became a close friend.

“Knock knock,” he says walking into the room. He’d zoomed out to re-up. I hop off his bed, setting my soda down on the coffee table as I approach him. I’m happy to see him, but even more excited to check out the weed.

“About damn time,” I joke as he tosses me the baggie.

“What? I was gone for literally five minutes,” he laughs, taking a seat on his couch.

“That’s awfully long for you, eh Quickie,” I sit down next to him grinning. “Shit, I left my papers in my car,” I frown, before picking up my keys and dangling them in front of Peter. He rolls his eyes, taking the car keys and speeding out and back, within seconds he’s tossing the rolling papers into my lap. “Thank you,” I bat my lashes at him.

“Yeah yeah,” he rolls his eyes, opening a bag of chips. He watches me as I break up the weed and begin to roll the joint.

“Damn you’re good at that,” he says genuinely impressed as he crunches on the Doritos.

“Well, I have a lot of experience,” I laugh sparking the joint, taking a deep hit. He’s told me that he didn’t smoke a whole lot before he met me, maybe I’m a bad influence. Then again, I had never stolen anything until I met him; so I guess it cancels out.

I pass the joint to peter as I exhale the smoke. “Good shit,” I laugh as I try stifle a cough. Peter takes a hit, immediately coughing so hard his face turns red.

“Goddman,” he chokes out, I hand him my soda in attempt to ease his coughing. “Wow I already feel it,” he says after he takes a sip, his voice raspy from the hot smoke and hacking as he sets the glass bottle down next to him.

“I think the coughing makes you higher,” I giggle, wiping off the ash off my skirt.

“I think you’re right, shit,” he sighs. “You feel it yet?” he asks looking at me through lidded eyes.

“Not quite, my tolerance is pretty high,” I laugh then take another hit before grabbing his Atari controller. “Wanna play frogger?” I ask.

“Stupid question,” he scoffs, zooming to the gaming console, looking for the correct game cassette. I take the time to admire how handsome Peter is, the way his white t-shirt hugs his toned arms, his constantly messy silver hair that falls perfectly into his face, his perfect skin- despite how much junk food he eats.

‘Damn he looks good,’ I think to myself as I take another hit off the joint, lounging on his crumb covered couch with the tan controller resting in my other hand. Peter zooms back to me.

“321 go!” He shouts, starting the game.

“Shit Pete I wasn’t ready,” I shoot up dropping the blunt, Peter of course catches it before it hits the ground then pops it into his mouth. I die almost instantly.

“You lose,” he takes the controller out of my hand replacing it with the joint. “My turn!” He gives me a shit eating grin that I’ve grown to adore. I roll my eyes.

“Alright Quickie,” I begin as his fingers move in a blur on the Atari controller. “Lets make this a competition. Best 2/3. Winner gets a whole joint to themselves,” I smirk.

“Oh you’re on,” he laughs, not looking away from the television. I cover his eyes with my hands, causing him to die. “Dude!” he shouts at me. I grin taking the controller. “You loose, my turn!” I mock him. He laughs, leaning back on the couch. I last a while, ultimately missing the log, dying when I fall into the water.

“425, beat that,” I proudly hand him the controller.

“Pft, in my sleep,” he scoffs, and he’s right. He quickly beats my score with a whopping 683. “You sure you wanna continue, man?” he smirks. “You can still back out and just split the joint, and keep your pride intact,” he offers with a smug grin. Instead of getting irritated, I develop a plan.

“Oh, I’m sure Peter,” I smirk back. “But could you go first? You’re so great, I’d like to know the final score I have to beat,” I ask batting my lashes.

“Uh, sure. Okay,” he agrees even though he looks confused. He starts the next game, doing very well of course. Without him noticing, I pull my sweater down to show some cleavage before I reach over him to grab my cola sitting on the opposite side of him. My chest sets even with his eyes as I grab the cold glass bottle. Peters fingers slow and a light pink settles on his cheeks. He clears his throat, as I sit back down on the couch.

“Alright man, you can’t distract me that easily,” he laughs it off, even though he’s still blushing, glancing between me and the screen.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’m just thirsty,” I smirk as I use my tongue to bring the paper straw into my mouth, staring at Peters eyes that keep finding their way back to me. I slowly slide the straw out of my mouth, my tinted lip gloss leaving a ring on the white paper.

“Mmm,” I moan, leaning closer to him as I savor the taste of the cherry cola. “This is really good Peter, how’d you know that cherry’s my favorite?” I ask lowly. His eyes go wide, his frog gets hit by a truck earning him a score of 237

“Come on!” the speedster shouts. “That’s totally unfair! How am I supposed to concentrate when you’re being all hot and shit?” he asks, his cheeks still pink.

“You think I’m hot?” I giggle, taking the controller from his hands. His cheeks burn even brighter when he realizes that he just admitted that he thinks I’m hot.

I easily beat his score; he doesn’t even try to stop me. “Fetch me my weed,” I grin, holding out my hand. He rolls his eyes, but in instant the weed, papers and lighter are in my hand. “Thanks, Quickie,” I wink before quickly rolling another joint.

I lean back on the arm of the couch, watching Peter as his eyes follow the joint going between my lips, staring as I French inhale the smoke. His bloodshot eyes watch in awe and I can’t help but smile at his obvious ogling.

“Let’s watch something,” I smile, standing up and walking toward the tv, taking another hit.

“Sure,” he sighs in relief. “What movie are you th…” he trails off when I bend over, my short skirt exposing the smallest amount of my ass. I pretend not to notice, picking up a random VHS.

“What about Jaws?” I turn, asking him innocently. He blinks shaking his head as if trying to release himself from a trance.

“Uh,” he clears his throat. “Yeah s-sure dude. What, uh, whatever you th-think sounds good,” he clears his throat again, staring into my eyes, not even blinking. I can tell that he’s trying extremely hard not to look at my sweater that’s still pulled down or my skirt that’s ridden up my thighs. I can almost hear him saying to himself ‘don’t look, don’t look, don’t look…’. I’m enjoying every moment of this.

I smile as I bend down to slip the VHS into the player, I turn to catch Peter adjusting his pants. He quickly removes his hand, giving me a huge grin trying not look guilty. I put the spliff back in my mouth to keep myself from laughing.

I walk over to the couch, tapping the joint out and setting it in the ash tray. As the movie starts to play, I take a seat next to peter, throwing my legs over his, allowing my skirt to fall down my thighs towards my stomach, and Peter seems to notice. His breath hitches in his throat, glancing back and forth between the movie and my thighs. We sit like this for the first part of the movie, eventually he relaxes a bit, getting into the film. I watch as the light from the screen bounces of his sharp features. I smirk as I lean up to Peter.

“You have something on your face,” I say quietly. He watches as I take my thumb in my mouth, wetting it to wipe the dried frosting off his cheek. His face floods red, he’s adorable.

“What’s wrong Peter?” I ask, still only inches from his face. “Why so quiet all of the sudden?” I lean into whisper in his ear. He visibly shutters as my breath hits his skin, a barely noticeable sheen of sweat appears on his forehead. I’m satisfied with his reaction. “Do I make you nervous, Peter?” I ask, wiping the sweat off his face. He turns to look at me.

“Uh,” he clears his throat. “N-no, of course not. It’s just, uhm, a little warm in here, th-that’s all,” he stutters, staring at me with his glossy brown eyes.

“Hm,” I pretend to think about his response. “You’re right,” I grin before pulling my grey sweater over my head, leaving me in my short skirt and white tank top that clings to my curves and barely covers my cleavage. He audibly gasps with wide eyes, not bothering to hide his staring.

“It’s getting even more hot in here all of the sudden,” he pulls at the neck of his shirt trying to cool himself off.

“Maybe you should take this off then,” I suggest, toying with the hem of the shirt. “Might cool you off,” I don’t drop his gaze as I reach for my cola, taking another sip.

“I-uh… y-yeah, sure, m-maybe you’re, uhm right,” he stumbles over his words before clumsily taking off the white t-shirt. I’m surprised that he actually did it, but definitely not disappointed. I drink in the picture Infront of me. The nervous boy fidgeting with his hands, a thin sheen of sweat on his flushed cheeks and toned torso, his chest rising and falling rapidly, all of my doing. The sight makes my core ache.

“Your goggles are crooked,” I observe as I slowly crawl on top of him to straddle his waist, giving him time to stop me, incase I’m taking it too far.

He just gulps, watching as I settle on his lap. I place one hand on his chest, using the other to adjust the silver goggles, my chest at his eye level once again. I catch his eyes, now glossed over with lust rather than THC, watching me as I smooth his hair down. As I sit back, my core against his crotch, I can feel his excitement through his pants, he bounces his leg rapidly in anticipation, watching, waiting for whatever it is that I’m going to do to him next.

“Are you sure you’re not nervous?” I smile, my skirt completely bunched up around my waist, exposing the entirety of my white thong.

“Y-yeah,” his voice cracks. “I’m totally fine,” his words come out shaky as he stares at my exposed underwear.

“I’ll move if you want, Peter,” I slowly grind my crotch against his, the friction on my core feels amazing. “Just tell me and I’ll move,” I offer with pleasure laced in my tone, hoping that he doesn’t ask me to stop.

He doesn’t say anything, just lets out a small whimper as I put more pressure and speed into my movements. I slowly dip down to his neck, giving him time to stop me if he desires, leaving wet kisses on his jugular. I swear I can feel how hard his heart is beating.

“You taste so sweet, Peter,” I whisper in his ear, continuing my grinding on his erection through his pants.

“Fuck,” he whispers, his breathing shallow and quick. I slowly slide my hands down to his buckle, still moving my hips as I trail my kisses closer to his lips. I pop the buckle open and bite down on his lip gently, he gasps against my mouth.

Beep beep. Beep beep.

Goddamnit

My digital wristwatch signals that it’s time to pick my little brother up from school. I hop off Peter, he furrows his brows.

“I gotta go man, I gotta pick up my brother,” I explain, he just watches in confusion as I slide my sweater back on my body, adjusting my skirt and putting on my shoes. I head to the steps, he jumps up as if he’s just now processed what’s happened.

“Hey, wait, you can’t leave me like this,” he whines, his erection prominent in his blue jeans. “We were having fun,” he frowns. I smile widely.

“Don’t worry, I’m coming back,” I wink. “My weeds here dude, you know I’ll be back,” I laugh walking away from the shirtless, frustrated, confused boy standing with a raging boner in the middle of his room.

[theunholybastard]

Kinktober: October 5th - Objectification (Papa Emeritus I x Gender - Neutral!Reader)

Tags: Dom!Primo, Ghoul!Reader, Abuse Of Power, Dub-Con, Objectification, Degradation, Pet-Play, Humiliation, Evil Primo, References To Piss Kink, Age-Gap, Deepthroating, Quickie, Fingering, Orgasm Denial, Spit, Facial, No Aftercare, First Person POV

It's not easy being the least favorite Ghoul of Papa Emeritus the First. Hell, it's not like he respects you if you're his favorite Ghoul, either. And yet, I still try so hard to please him, to no avail. No matter what I do, I can't seem to get anything right. Everything I do only ends up bringing more contempt and anger towards me.

And today has been the worst day. I say that every day I have to work with Primo, but today I mean it. One thing after another seemed to keep going wrong, and of course, I was the one that took the blame. It seemed like I couldn't go five minutes without being screamed at and degraded by that old sack of shit.

"Stupid Ghoul! Can't you do anything right?!" He would bark in my direction so often, I was so close to snapping. I wanted to yell back, tell him if he wants things done his way, he should shut up and do it himself. But no, all day I managed to hold my tongue. Until I couldn't.

It was so small. It was so stupid. I was asked (or rather, demanded) to grab him coffee before the show, and I screwed up his order. An honest mistake, but one that he would not let go unpunished. He took one sip, made a sour face, and spat it out dramatically at my feet. My face went red in embarrassment as the other Ghouls turned their heads towards the scene. Primo always seemed to have a thing for public humiliation.

"You fool, how did you manage to fuck this up?!" He scolds. I hear a few Ghouls snickering, and the combination of being laughed at by my peers, and the feel of Primos hot breath hitting my face as he screams directly in my ear, only makes me grind my teeth in anger. "This is scalding! Are you trying to kill me?!"

"That wasn't my intention, but maybe I should." The words come out of my mouth so quickly, I barely realize I said it. Once I realized I said that out loud, I slapped my hand over my mouth, seeing my life flash before my eyes. Primo goes silent for a moment, and his eyes glaze over with a white-hot rage I've never seen before. I'm so dead.

"...Mi scusi?" Primo mutters lowly, his voice laced with barely concealed venom. The room is so quiet, all I can hear is my heart beating rapidly, pounding in my ears. "N-nothing, Papa." My voice quivers, eyes wide like a deer in headlights, cautiously watching his every move.

Unexpectedly... He smiles. A cruel, crooked smile that only further terrified me. He turns to the other Ghouls in the room. "Out." Is all he says. They all scramble out without question, a few of them exchanging sympathetic glances with me, silently wishing me luck. I gulp, now completely alone with him, for him to punish me however he wishes. Oh Satanas, I hope he doesn't fucking piss on me. Again.

He approaches me, painfully slow. All I can do is stand there, frozen in fear. Running at this point would just make my punishment worse. He clears his throat. "Do you think that is any way to speak to your Papa, stupido cucciolo? Do you think it's acceptable, sassing me like that?" He scowls, talking down to me in an unsettlingly soft voice, similar to how someone would speak while scolding an animal.

"I- I'm so sorry, Papa. I don't know what came over me. I- I didn't mean it-" I stutter nervously, my hands already clammy and trembling. He cuts me off with a finger over my lips. I knew for my own safety, I should probably shut my mouth.

"Ahhh, of course! It's an accident, you didn't mean it. You always find some sort of excuse for your misbehavior. It's never your fault, is it?" He chides sarcastically. "That little mouth of yours loves to get you in trouble. Maybe it's time it gets put to good use..."

Before I can question what he means, he grabs me by the shoulders and pushes me down on my knees, needing little to no effort to do so since my legs were already weak and wobbly. He moves his robes to the side, not wearing anything underneath and exposing himself. I gasp, quickly backing up at the sight. His length was impressive, even for being flaccid, and thick enough to just barely fit in my mouth. I wonder how it would feel in...

"P-Papa, I don't think I should... I- I shouldn't..." I sputter worriedly, all of a sudden deciding professionalism is one of my virtues. Maybe sucking off my shitty boss whose more than twice my age isn't the best move. He scoffs.

"Disobeying my orders once again, are we?" He tsks. "The amount of times you messed up today... I ought to fire you right now. Hell, I should send you back to The Pit myself. But here I am, generously offering you a way to earn your forgiveness. Take it, pet." He growls. I swallow the huge lump in my throat, looking up at him hesitantly. His gaze is cold and unforgiving, completely devoid of compassion. He really means it, doesn't he? Well... If this is the only way to keep my job...

I slowly open my mouth, jaw quivering. I shut my eyes tight. Here goes nothing. He at least had the decency to guide his cock into my mouth for me, but unfortunately, he didn't have the patience to let me take my time with it. He thrusts harshly into my mouth, his soft cock hitting the back of my throat and his pubic hair tickling my nose once I reach the base. I gag, my throat instinctively trying to force him out, but he holds my head in place, not letting me move an inch from my spot.

He lets out a groan of relief. I feel his dick twitch in my throat, already starting to grow and harden. At least one of us is enjoying this. He grips my hair excruciatingly tight with his slender fingers, moving my head up and down on his cock. I already feel the tears sliding down my cheeks as he forces me to choke against him helplessly.

"Finalmente, something you're good at." He grunts, growing to full hardness. "Maybe this should be your new job, hm? Since you're useless at everything else. You want to be your Papas little pet? Satanas, t-that's a good pup..." Fuck, his words are disgusting, degrading, vile. I shouldn't like this. This shouldn't be making my body react this way. This is humiliating, and yet, the hottest thing I've ever experienced at the same time.

I moan around his cock, unable to stop myself. Primo chuckles wickedly, looking down at my red, tear-stained face. "Do you like this, pet?" He smirks down at me, looking absolutely sinister, which only arouses me further. Damn, I got issues. "Maybe if you please me thoroughly, I'll let you have a little bit of pleasure. Would you like that, cucciolo?"

"Mhmph-!" I hum around his length excitedly at the thought of receiving any sort of stimulation. His breathing grows heavier, his eyes fluttering shut. He looks oddly beautiful while he's completely blissed out like this, that for a brief moment, I almost forget how cruel he is. His cock kicks, and he pulls himself out of my mouth, releasing his hot seed all over my face.

I go to wipe the cum off my face, but he quickly snatches my wrist, tutting in warning. "Did I give you permission to clean yourself, pet?" He hisses. I fight the urge to roll my eyes, and shake my head. "Now ask nicely, cucciolo..."

"M-may I please clean my face, Papa...?" I whimper softly, giving him my best pleading eyes in hopes he will respect my request. He smirks, his eyes twinkling evily as he leans over me. He spat, his spit and cum now mixing together and running down my face. "No, you may not." He answers.

He fixes his robes and begins to walk away, leaving me on the ground, covered in his filth. "W-wait!" I exclaim, flustered and sexually frustrated. "You said you would d-do something for me, too!" He laughs.

"I said I might, silly Ghoul." He snickers. Oh, this motherfucker. I whine desperately, nearly in tears once again. "P-please!" I plead, all of my self-respect gone in a moment of desperation. "Please, Papa... I- I'll do anything." He clicks his tongue, thinking for a moment. My heart drops when I hear a knock on the door.

"Papa!" I hear another Ghoul call from the other side of the door. "We're on stage in five!" I gulp. Primo rolls his eyes and shoos the Ghoul away, turning back to me with a mischievous glint in his gaze.

"I will please you, little pet; on one condition." He states. My ears perk up, nodding readily. "From now on, you will obey my orders. No more talking back, no more fuck ups. I don't want to see any more disobedience from you. If you cannot cum in five minutes, you will not cum at all, and you will not complain. Understood?" I nod obediently, too horny to care about the rules he listed that I will 100% break within a week.

"Bravo cucciolo. Now come over here." I go to stand up, but he snaps at me in disapproval. "Ah, ah... crawl." He rumbles. I felt a pit in my stomach as I get on my hands and knees, half- wishing the ground would just swallow me whole. I crawl towards him like a dog, the floor beneath me cold and uncomfortable, only furthering my degradation. He nods in sadistic satisfaction.

He commands me to rise and bend over the table beside him. I obey, and with ruthless dedication, he yanks off my trousers, letting them hang around my ankles. I hear him shuffle behind me, spitting on his hand and running his cold, slick fingers over my entrance. He slides them inside with ease, making me let out a choked moan.

"Quiet." He orders angrily. I bite my lip to silence myself as he continues his assault with his fingers, but he moves them with such skill that it makes it nearly impossible to remain quiet. The tips of his fingers hit the spot repeatedly with ease, his other hand wrapping around my mouth to ensure as little noise as possible to escape my lips.

I got so close, so close I could almost taste the ecstasy on the tip of my tongue. But my worst nightmare came true when I heard yet another knock on the door. "Papa! It's time, we gotta go!" A Ghoul calls out. Primo sighs, seeming almost as disappointed as me, and pulls out his fingers, obscenely licking them clean.

"Fix yourself and join us on stage, Ghoul." He says coldly, putting on his mitre and heading towards the door. "Papa..." I whine, earning me a light slap. "What did I say, stupido cucciolo? No complaints..." He grufs, annoyed. I frown frustratedly and nod, pulling up my pants and grabbing my mask in shame.

While we move to the stage, none of the audience or my fellow Ghouls are aware of the dried cum covering my face underneath the mask. But as Primo shoots me a wink before he starts to sing, and the other Ghouls exchange confused glances, my throat runs dry in worry that maybe they all suspect what just occurred. And honestly? That just makes me hornier.

-

[hungermakesmonsters]

Catch Me If You Can

Chapter Four

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done, Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Chapter Rating : PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] There's nothing warning worthy in this chapter. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : ~3.3k

A/N : I decided to post this chapter a little earlier than planned as my own little celebration at hitting 21 followers (I genuinely did not expect anyone to read any of this when I started) Thank you so much to everyone who's still following along with this! Honestly all the nice comments have really made my week.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

Two days after the party, you found yourself standing outside the Anvil building, eyes trailing up the side of the building while Karen adjusted her bag on her shoulder. It felt surreal how you’d somehow ended up there again, despite promising yourself over and over that you’d never go anywhere near Billy Russo again.

“Impressive, isn’t it? Big, definitely compensating for something,” Karen smirked.

When she’d called you and offered you some work, Karen had been pretty vague on the details; she just needed some quick portraits while she interviewed some businessman about his charity work. It was supposed to be easy money for a couple of hour's worth of work. Karen had even offered to pick you up, so everything about the job had seemed great. Until you were standing outside of Anvil and you realised you were going to have to see Billy again.

You were silent as you followed her through the building, trying not to think about how impressive it all seemed. His office was on the top floor - because, of course it was - and his assistant was a pretty, petite brunette with strikingly blue eyes, adding to the overall air of perfection and making you feel like you didn’t belong. She waved you into Billy’s office and your gaze dropped to the carpet, awkwardly adjusting your camera bag on your shoulder and the hard case with your lighting gear in your hand, doing anything you could to avoid looking up until you heard Karen introduce you.

Finally, you lifted your head, and there he was, stepping towards you and holding out his hand. You took it and let him introduce himself as if you weren’t already well acquainted with him, and you tried not to hold his gaze for too long.

“Okay, so, we’ll get set up, get the photos done, and I need to ask you a few questions, get a few quotes - you know the drill.” Karen explained.

“Whatever you need, Karen,” he smiled, moving towards his desk, choosing to lean against it rather than taking a seat.

“Need any help?” She asked you as you started to unpack and, of course, you didn’t, so she simply stood to the side.

“Frank’s in his office if you want to say hi,” Billy offered, smiling at Karen, “you’d be doing me a huge favour, he’s been in a shitty mood all morning, nearly took a couple of heads off in this morning’s briefing.”

Karen looked at you for a moment, not needing to give voice to the question; she wanted to go check in with her boyfriend and wondered if you’d be alright without her. Of course, she didn’t know about your history with Billy, she didn’t know that he was just trying to get rid of her. And you didn’t want her to know, you didn’t want to have to explain any of it to her, so you nodded. 

“I’ll be five minutes - it’ll give you time to get set up and decide what you want to do for the shoot.” You nodded but obviously looked uncomfortable enough for Karen to add; “don’t worry, he doesn’t bite.”

A few mumbled I’ll be fine’s later and she was gone, leaving you alone with Billy.

“Did you do this?” You asked before he could speak, letting the wave of anger carry you. “Did you set all this up just to get me here?”

“Yes.” He answered without hesitation and you found that you didn’t quite know how to respond.

At least he was honest - not that honesty would buy him much goodwill from you. 

He moved towards you and you shrank back, eyes flitting towards the door, hating the way you suddenly felt so small. But the moment he noticed your discomfort, Billy stopped in his tracks, leaving half the room between you.

“I’m sorry.” He said, though you didn’t know which part of things he was apologising for.

“For someone who says that as much as you do, you don’t seem to stop doing the things you’re sorry for.”

“Because I don’t know what I did wrong,” Billy sighed, his shoulder ticking upwards, “I just know that something I did upset you and that’s the last thing I wanted. I wanted to make sure you were alright and I didn’t exactly have any other way of getting you to talk to me. I didn’t think you’d appreciate me showing up at your place again...”

He sounded contrite, like he was really bothered by what had happened between you, and it was so at odds with everything you’d made yourself believe about him that you really didn’t know what to say.

What had he done wrong? Really? Thinking about it, you found that you couldn’t actually name a single thing; you were the one who’d gotten drunk and jealous, you were the one who went along with everything that had happened. No, not just went along with it, you’d wanted it, you’d enjoyed it. You just let your own neurotic bullshit get the better of you at the end of it all. All Billy had really done was try to ask you out, maybe a little too enthusiastically, but you didn’t feel like anything he’d done had been malicious.

“I shouldn’t’ve...” he decided not to go into detail about the other night and everything he’d done, “we’d both been drinking, and I know I said I’d leave you alone...”

“I didn’t exactly tell you to stop,” you admitted quietly, dropping your gaze and fixing it on his shoes.

“You shouldn’t have had to, I should’ve known that you didn’t want -” the tone of his voice broke your heart, the blame he carried for something that was just as much your fault, if not more than his.

“Billy, I didn’t tell you to stop because I didn’t want you to stop.” You interrupted.

As much as you hated admitting it, you knew it wasn’t fair to let him blame himself completely, to let him think that he’d forced you into something that you’d been a willing participant in. Yes, he’d kissed you, but you’d kissed back and no part of you believed that he wouldn’t have stopped if you’d wanted him to. (In fact, he had stopped, he’d let you leave the second you needed to.)

“What?” Because it didn’t make sense, he didn’t understand what you were trying to tell him. He dared to take a step towards you.

“I wanted it, I wanted what happened, it’s just - it's complicated, okay?” Frustration quickly filled your voice and you hated yourself for not being able to explain it. “I told you, I don’t date. And I don’t exactly do one night stands either. So, it’s been a really long time since I let anyone get that close to me and after everything, I panicked.”

Again, there was a silence that seemed to last an eternity, both of you trying to come to terms with the moment.

“I thought I’d hurt you,” Billy finally said. Your chest ached at the sadness in his voice, at the worry you must have put him through. “That’s why I set all this up, I needed to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine, Billy,” this time you were the one who dared to take a step forward. “And, I’m sorry. I didn’t think that you’d care, or that you’d worry...” Though you regretted sharing that thought when you saw the look on his face. Of course he’d cared; he’d never said or done anything to indicate that he didn’t, even when he’d been trying to convince you to go to dinner with him, Billy had always been respectful of your boundaries, and you’d left him believing that he’d practically assaulted you.

“I should’ve left you alone,” he repeated, “but I thought I could get you to change your mind, and that wasn’t fair on you. I’m not used to being told no and I thought you were just playing hard to get.”

“I didn’t want you to leave me alone,” you dared to admit. Billy fell silent, wanting you to go on but not daring to ask you for more. For a few seconds, you struggled with what you wanted to tell him, but knowing that you might never get another chance you decided to be honest. “I was upset. I didn’t know Tammy was throwing the party and I didn’t know that you’d be there, and when I saw you with Michelle...” your gaze dropped to his shoes again. “I was jealous. I saw her and it made me think that you’d never really been interested in me, that I’d just been some distraction for you, and it made me so angry.”

Still Billy remained silent, letting you get it all out.

“And when you kissed me, I wanted to prove to you that I was worth more than that. But, at the end, all I could think about was how you might take her home when you were done with me.” You paused again, eyes still fixed on his feet. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, too scared of what you might see. After everything you put him through Billy had every right to be upset. But you needed to finish. You needed him to know one last thing. “And, the truth is, I’ve not been able to stop thinking about you either.”

You don’t know if he started moving before or after your final admission but, when you looked up, he was standing in front of you. His hand moved towards your cheek but hesitated, like he was waiting for permission to touch you, and when you didn’t pull away from him, he tenderly cupped your cheek.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he told you softly, and you weren’t sure if it was meant as a reassurance or a warning. Regardless, you leaned into his touch. “Can I kiss you?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you offered him the slightest of nods. Again, there was a breathless moment of hesitation before, finally, Billy leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. It wasn’t what you were expecting, given every other time that he’d kissed you; it was sweet and gentle, chaste even (a word that you never thought you’d associate with a man like Billy). 

“Are you okay?” He asked, hand lingering on your cheek even as the kiss broke.

“Yes.”

Billy smiled before kissing you again, this time in a way that was a little closer to what you were used to. His tongue ran along the seam of your lips, and you opened for him, letting the kiss deepen. Your hands found his hips, fingers grasping the fabric of his suit jacket, not wanting to let go, not wanting to let your fear get the better of you.

“One night,” you muttered against his lips when the kiss finally ended.

“One night?” Billy repeated, confused. 

“You asked me to give you one night. I - I’ve changed my mind, I want one night with you.”

“Do you still want to go to Pizza Hut?” He joked, softly caressing your cheek with his thumb, and you laughed.

“No, I want a real night out. I want the whole Billy Russo experience.” You told him, despite the way that your legs were trembling beneath you.

“Friday night, there’s a charity gala,” Billy explained, “be my date.”

“Okay,” nerves quickly crept into your tone. You’d never been to a charity gala, you had no idea what to expect from any of it. But you had three days to think about it, to figure it all out.

“I’ll pick you up at eight.” Before you could answer, he was kissing you again.

You would have been content to stay there, your body pressed against his as he kissed you, but then you heard a voice and the sound of a door opening. You sprang back, turning away from Billy while he remained exactly where he was, his gaze darkening for a moment as he looked at Karen.

“Everything alright?” She asked, eyeing you and then Billy. Karen wasn’t an idiot, you knew she could see the embarrassment written all over your face, she just couldn’t figure out why. “Did he behave himself?” She asked you a moment later.

“Please, Karen, you know I don’t know how to behave myself.” Billy joked, and you almost winced.

“Everything’s fine, Mr Russo was just offering a few suggestions about how he wants his picture taken.”

“Of course he was,” Karen laughed, rolling her eyes at him, “wouldn’t want to get your bad side.”

“What bad side?” Billy retorted with that smirk that made your knees feel weak.

Karen and Billy carried on their little back and forth while you finished getting your camera and lighting set up. It was almost endearing listening to them both; you weren’t sure why, but you got the feeling that Billy didn’t have many people in his life that he could talk to like that. Or, rather, you got the impression that most people didn’t want the dumb, playful side of Billy.

Photographing him was some of the easiest work you’d ever done - and, he was right, he didn’t have a bad side. He talked with Karen while you got more shots that you’d ever really need, managing to catch every flicker of a smile and the way his face would light up whenever he laughed. And, from time to time, he’d look at you with those dark eyes and you’d get goosebumps.

You only half-listened as Karen conducted her interview, but it all sounded very impressive; Anvil had been donating money to veterans charities all across the state, millions so far, and Billy had no plan of stopping any time soon.

When the interview was over, you packed away your gear, and you and Billy continued your little act, keeping everything professional. You said your goodbyes, and Billy mouthed the word ‘Friday’ at you the second Karen had turned her back. You followed after a moment later, heading back towards the elevator.

“So,” Karen said, letting the word hang in the air a couple of seconds too long for comfort before continuing, “are you going to tell me what that was all about?”

“What what was about?” Though you could already feel the panic knotting your insides.

“Seriously, you’re going to make me spell it out?” She laughed, and that definitely didn’t make you feel any better about things. “I saw the way Billy was looking at you. Did he come on to you when I went to see Frank? Because if he made you uncomfortable --

“He asked me out,” you practically blurted out. The last thing you wanted was to admit it to her, but you didn’t want her storming back into his office and kicking his ass on your behalf, either. “I’m going to some charity gala with him on Friday.” 

“You said yes to him?” Obviously confused by the very sparse sequence of events that you’d presented her with.

You let out a sigh, knowing how unprofessional you were going to end up looking when she knew the whole story, but you didn’t want to lie to her.

“We’ve met before. A couple of times. He asked me to dinner and I said no, but then - I don’t know, something changed and I said yes this time.” You shrugged. “But when you offered me this gig, I swear, I didn’t know that it was here or that it was him.”

If she cared about the professionalism of it all, Karen didn’t show it. Instead she was fighting back a smirk.

“Oh my god, suddenly it all makes sense.”

“What does?” You dared to ask.

“He specifically asked for you to be his photographer, only he did it by finding some of your work and requesting that he had that photographer; he didn’t mention you by name. Sneaky bastard.”

“Yeah, he told me he set this up,” you practically grimaced at how ridiculous it must have seemed to her.

“At least he was honest, I guess,” Karen remarked before; “I still can’t believe you said yes to Billy Russo,” she shook a head and your cheeks felt like they were burning, “I mean, I get it, he’s very nice to look at but -”

“Who’s nice to look at?” The sudden interruption startled you, but Karen didn’t notice. Instead her eyes were fixed on the man who’d just appeared in the corridor behind you. 

“Billy,” Karen laughed, “she’s agreed to be his date for the gala on Friday.”

“Another good woman lost to Billy the beaut’s charms,” he shook his head, grinning as he held out his hand and introduced himself. Frank. Karen’s Frank. You took his hand and gave him your name, all the while hoping that the ground would open beneath your feet and swallow you whole.

You stepped back and let Frank and Karen talk for a moment; they were deciding where they wanted to go for dinner, Karen said something about her friends Foggy and Matt and, finally, Frank told her he’d call when he got off work.

“I guess I’ll see you again on Friday,” he said to you as he turned to head back to his office.

“Friday? What did he mean by that?” You asked and Karen laughed.

“We’re going to the gala too.” Somehow, that made everything worse, and you wondered why Billy had gone through the charade of not saying anything in front of Karen about it.

On the way out of the building you made small talk, Karen told you what to expect at the gala; lots of free alcohol and people wearing some very expensive clothes. And she tried to set your mind at ease a little (obviously she noticed just how uncomfortable the whole thing had made you).

“As much as we like giving Billy shit, he’s not a bad guy,” she explained once you were finally outside and away from anyone who might overhear, “he saved Frank’s life, they’re like brothers.” You nodded but decided against asking any questions and, instead let Karen carry on. “He just - I don’t think he knows how to settle, I mean not that I’m surprised given the way he grew up, but he keeps picking all the wrong women.” She paused, looking at you for a moment, “not that I think you’re wrong for him, you’re definitely not -”

“Not his usual type? I know.” You shrugged. “But it’s just one night, I don’t think it’ll go anywhere.”

“Give him a chance, he might surprise you.” Her attention soon turned up unlocking her car and opening the trunk so you could put your gear down. “And, I think you might be good for him? Billy doesn’t have many real friends in his life, most people only ever get to see half the picture, you know?”

Yeah, you’d started to pick up on as much, but you didn’t know how to explain that to Karen. You’d seen the sweet and playful side of him when you’d gone for coffee, you’d dealt with the persistent side of him, and you’d even gotten a glimpse of what it might be like to spend a night in his bed. 

“And, if he pisses you off at the gala you can come hang out at the bar with me and Frank because he hates those things.”

You spent the drive home asking as many questions as you could about the gala, trying to figure out just what you’d agreed to.

Chapter Five

END NOTES : I hope this one wasn't too slow going, I just really enjoy cute moments where Billy and Reader actually talk to sort their shit out. The next part should be finished and up at the end of next week. I've got tag list now so feel free to drop me a comment if you want adding to it!

Hope you have a wonder day!

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