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ddarker-dreams · 5 days ago

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A Deal's a Deal.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, violence against minor characters, descriptions of anxiety, mentions of alcohol. Word count: 5k.

Next (TBA)

“... Sorry. This one’s no good either.”

Sighing dejectedly, you sink into your seat.

You can’t tell if your companion’s disappointed. He maintains a neutral countenance, betraying nothing of his inner thoughts. Still, you study him, awaiting some visual indication before moving the conversation forward. He must sense your intentions, for he catches your gaze and smiles.

“Should we call it a day? You look tired.”

“The hell? Isn’t it considered taboo to tell a lady she looks tired?” You grumble. “And here I thought you were Casanova incarnate. You’ve got to work on your charisma stats.”

Chrollo shrugs halfheartedly. “What point is there if you’re immune to my many charms?”

“Let’s be real — ‘many’ is overdoing it, a little humility won’t hurt. I commend your budding self-awareness, though. At least we’ve made progress on that front.”

He hums, offering no rebuttal. You realize that you’ve perked back up, reinvigorated by his goading. He certainly knows how to get people going. Among his defining features, that’s one of the first you recognized; his uncanny way of orchestrating favorable outcomes.

Sipping your preferred warm beverage, you canvass your surroundings.

The café’s less crowded than when you came in. There are still a few students typing away on their laptops while consuming a concerning amount of caffeine. In the corner sits an elderly couple, whose order you overheard by virtue of the volume it was placed at — “Give me a regular coffee. Straight black, none of that ‘appaccino, grand venti’ nonsense. Decaf for my wife.”

(You prayed for the barista’s sanity when he tried explaining the different ways ‘straight black’ could come).

“... I am losing my touch, aren’t I?” Chrollo murmurs. You snap your head in his direction, having temporarily forgotten his existence. “You prefer older men?”

You almost choke mid-sip. “Pleh…! That’s it, I’m retiring, good luck sorting your issues out.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“How I wish you were wrong,” you deadpan. Lifting his phone off the table, you scroll through its contents. There’s nothing new to look at. “An exorcist, huh? You’re positive that’s a real thing?”

“They exist. They’re just rare, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“I blame the Protestant Reformation.”

The skin beneath his eyes wrinkles. “... Cute.”

His compliment makes you frown.

“Quit it with the flattery, already.”

“Flattery implies a degree of insincerity, no?” He challenges. “You of all people should know when I’m being genuine.”

“You make it sound like I’m a walking polygraph.”

His lips part and close as he considers his response. “That isn’t how I view you.”

This guy’s clever with his word choice, you think. Too clever.

Disliking where this conversation might go, you redirect.

“This ‘Hunter’ site you’ve been using… is there any way for me to access it?”

“Feeling a bit impatient, are we?”

There’s a patronizing lilt to this tone that has you inhaling sharply. Closing your eyes, you ball your hands into fists, willing your agitated mind to relax. Your goal feels so close. This future you never believed possible dangles above your head, only to recede as if you were Tantalus whenever you grasp for it. Needling Chrollo won’t get you any closer, but at least it gives you something to do, mimicking progress.

“The Hunter site has various measures in place to prevent account sharing. You don’t want to end up on their radar,” Chrollo retrieves his phone and tucks it into his coat’s pocket. “While your enthusiasm’s admirable, I suggest you leave this part to me.”

You swallow thickly. “... Right.”

“Are you upset?”

“No, I’m not,” you rest your hands on your lap. “Just, y’know. Reminded that we’re from two different worlds.”

Outside the café’s windows, individuals from all walks of life bustle about. Some are on their phones, others chatting with friends, or holding their partner’s hands. It’s a picturesque display of normalcy. They’re likely thinking about what to have for dinner, when to set their alarm for the following day, if they can squeeze out of plans they halfheartedly agreed to over the weekend; you know this because you aspire to live the same way.

“You’re closer to mine than you think.”

A fervent disagreement blazes then turns to ash on your tongue. There’s an unidentifiable quality to his stare — neither kind nor outright malicious — almost clinical in its effort to elicit a reaction. You stir in your seat. Despite your time together, he’s as much an enigma as he’d been upon your first meeting. Charming and courteous, yet lacking genuine warmth, like a faux candle.

“Do you get some kick out of riling me up?”

“Maybe a little,” he admits. “Your expressive nature is endearing. I can’t help myself.”

His words resonate with such clarity that you can’t help but wish he’d been a little dishonest.

“I’m not a toy for you to entertain yourself with.”

His smile makes you squirm.

“I know you aren’t.”

“Then what—” you cut yourself off, fearing what might occur if you continue your original line of questioning. “Man, you’re exhausting to deal with. Has anyone ever told you that you have an awful personality?”

“Few get to be around me enough to comment on its quality.”

“I’m counting down the days until I’m no longer a member of that inner circle.”

Before Chrollo can respond, his phone audibly vibrates. Newfound excitement overwhelms you at the sound. He glances at the notification and nods, confirming your speculation. He places it in your eager hands. While you prepare, he steeples his fingers and leans forward, intrigued as always with your work.

You relax your breathing. This entire process is based on intuition, chasing after faint sensations until your desired outcome manifests. A pliable force thrums through you — what Chrollo refers to as ‘aura’ — awakening from its dormant state. Mindful of your public surroundings, you keep your dominant hand beneath the table. Where there was once nothing, a three-dimensional object rests snugly against your palm. Buttons of varying utility jut outward along its perimeter. This small item, shaped like a cassette recorder, stirs antipathy in your heart.

Holding down rewind, the cassette whirrs to life. You prepare to record the latest audio note sent in for analysis.

Instant Replay (One More Time!).

These past few months have seen your ability frequently leveraged. It was your personal conviction to refuse its use, lest paranoia eat away at you. However, freedom from this bondage necessitates further entanglement. You’ve parted with your long-standing morals, primed to pick through the syllables of others for your own purposes.

Right and wrong no longer concern you.

All you care about is surrendering this loathsome ability to the man sitting across the table.

The night air is unforgiving in its chill. It infiltrates your layers of clothing with laughable ease, seeping into your marrow and demanding that you shiver as recompense. Gritting your teeth, you pick up your pace, cursing the parking garage’s elevator for being out of order. You knew parking at your friend’s apartment complex was sparse, but this is a new record.

The heels of your shoes click against the concrete staircase as you rapidly ascend. A pale, yellowish hue illuminates your path, the lights occasionally flickering. The moon must be feeling shy tonight, for it hides behind thick, stationary clouds, refusing the world its silvery guidance.

Upon arriving on the third floor, you hear an ominous crackle in the distance.

The consequences are immediate. Intuition tells you to pause, goosebumps erupting over your flesh from head to toe. Darkness swallows your surroundings whole in inky blots. Blinking rapidly, your eyes struggle to adjust. You feel around for your phone and turn the flashlight on. The sudden loss of power perplexes you, did the building’s breaker trip? From what you can see, the rest of the street is unaffected.

You’re about to resume your journey when you feel something cold press against your temple.

“Don’t move,” a deep voice demands. The roar of a car’s engine echoes nearby, as does the hurried screech of tires. “Not so much as a fucking inch.”

Anxiety sets your every nerve aflame. You go stiff as a corpse, and perhaps you may have been mistaken for one, if not for the thunderous pounding of your heart. The moisture in your mouth dries up. Tortuous seconds drag on, devoid of any further commands. You’re ready to offer up your purse, wallet, or anything else he insists on, but he’s eerily silent.

A pair of approaching headlights blind you.

Is this more than a robbery? You struggle to comprehend the nightmarish events. The man holding you hostage radiates agitation, shifting his weight from foot to foot. In doing so, the barrel drags along your sweat-slicked skin. His apparent sloppiness has you weak in the knees — it’s your life hanging in the balance, why is he acting like the situation is reversed?

Abruptly, the vehicle veers off course, crashing into a line of parked cars. A terrible cacophony follows. Glass shatters, metal debris shrieks whilst scattering, and car alarms angrily sound in disunity. What you’re witnessing doesn’t feel like real life. Your disbelief is mutual, for the man holding you captive spews curses.

You hear a click by your side; the gun’s safety being disengaged.

“Shit!” He maneuvers you in the direction of the crash like you’re a shield. “There’s no way we were followed, no way, we did everything perfect—”

The man never finishes his sentence.

There’s a wet gurgle, then a wheeze, as something warm splatters on you from behind. Bile rises up your throat as the wretched noises continue. He must’ve fallen to the ground, for you no longer sense his lumbering presence, or feel the cold kiss of metal on your skin. Regardless, you refuse to budge. You squeeze your eyes shut and tremble wildly.

“There, there. You’re safe now. ♥” A rich baritone speaks from behind.

His declaration comes out discordant, belying the reassuring contents. You bristle at the new threat that’s presented itself. If what came before was a house cat, then this is an apex predator, the king of the jungle. The air around him feels oppressive, almost noxious. Even without a firearm directed at you, your panic reaches its zenith, soaring to heights untraversed.

“Hm? Still scared? Ah, that’s right,” he muses to himself. “Chrollo said you’re sensitive to dishonesty. This could be troublesome.”

“You… you know Chrollo?”

“So you’re not in a catatonic state — how reassuring.”

Slowly, you turn around, sensing a distinct lack of ill intent. Flashlight in hand, you try to make sense of what you witness. The scene that greets you is gruesome beyond your wildest expectations. The man who you assume held you at gunpoint has collapsed onto the ground, his jugular slit clean. Blood gushes from the wound like a geyser, forming a crimson puddle around his head. His eyes are wide, bloodshot, nearly bulging from the sockets. Liquids ooze from every visible orifice and a foul odor rises alongside them. This pitiful creature could’ve been your end. Instead, he met his, departing this world in abject terror.

Unexpectedly, his muscles twitch. Out of reflex, you jump back and yelp.

“Rest assured, he’s dead as a doornail.”

“Why…” you wet your dry lips, “What… what just…?”

While you stumble over your words, the building’s power makes a triumphant return. The lights flash intermittently, then go steady, allowing you an unobscured vantage point. Before you stands a tall, bizarrely dressed individual, with bright red hair. His beady, yellow eyes have a predatory gleam to them that he doesn’t bother suppressing. He holds a playing card in his claw-like hands, the three of spades.

It’s coated in fresh blood.

Your eyes fall to the fatal wound on your assailant's throat, the gears in your head turning.

You take a step back.

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” With a flick of his wrist, the offending card disappears, though its memory burns strong. “I’m Hisoka, Chrollo’s… colleague of sorts. Now, there’s no need to introduce yourself. I’m well acquainted with you. ♥”

Is that supposed to make you feel better?

You couldn’t hide your suspicion if you tried. At the very least, there’s no indication that was a lie. However, his familiarity with you is a double-edged sword. If he’s crafty, he can outmaneuver your ability. Dishonesty isn’t black and white, there are loopholes to avoiding your detection. For instance, one can remain purposefully oblivious, lie by omission, or speak in vague terms. These gray areas pass you by as if you lacked this ‘sixth sense’ to begin with.

He was lying when he said I’m safe now, you recall. But he doesn’t seem interested in harming me…? Something isn’t adding up.

After much deliberation, you ask, “So you just happened to run into me?”

“Nope. I’ve been following you,” he freely admits. Your aghast expression makes him laugh. “What’s the matter? You were baiting me for the truth, were you not? You’re welcome to have it. ♦”

In your heightened state of sensitivity, you sense multiple presences converging nearby. Security guards, if you had to guess. You weigh your options. If you stay here, you’ll undoubtedly be harassed for a story that explains the chaos. Telling the truth would land you in a straight jacket whereas deception guarantees cuffs. Leaving in your car is off the table too, you’d be dubbed an important witness. There’s no way you can claim you drove by the carnage without noticing anything.

“I can help get you out of this debacle,” he offers. “We’re both seeking the same end — the return of Chrollo’s Hatsu. The latest recording I’ve obtained is most promising. So, I’d rather we don’t continue this conversation in prison. ♣”

Hisoka takes a step forward and extends his hand.

The security guards are getting closer, you think. There’s no time left.

And so you make your choice.

You didn’t think places like these existed outside of the movies, or maybe you just don’t get around enough.

You’ve found yourself in what you can only describe as a biker’s bar. The decor is old-fashioned, slightly worn yet authentic. There are pool tables, too many televisions to count, and a functioning jukebox nestled in the corner. Rough-looking men wearing leather jackets make up the main clientele. Fortunately, it’s Hisoka who draws the most attention, his gaudy getup acting as a magnet for the eyes. No one pays you any mind.

For the second time this week, a weirdo treats you to drinks. The main difference is that this is a depressant and not a stimulant.

You take hearty sips to calm your nerves. All that happened feels so surreal, like a collection of grotesque images that would be blurred out in a documentary. This is exactly what you wanted to avoid. You want to be normal, untethered by the oddity that is Nen, the ‘world’ Chrollo inhabits. You decided long ago that nothing good can come from it. Maybe if you were more adventurous, prone to taking high risks for high rewards.

But you’re not.

Endless money, power, and influence don’t sound appealing. Sure, there’s an allure initially, until you consider reality. Lots of money means either lots of taxes or lots of tax evasion. You barely know what a W-2 form is, much less the hoops you’d have to jump through if your income exploded. Power and influence aren’t all they’re cracked up to be either. All that scheming to stay at the top would take away from what makes life truly worth living — reading Wikipedia articles and watching eight-hour-long videos analyzing a video game from two decades ago.

“Holy shit,” you press pause on the cassette recorder. “This Abengane guy’s the real deal.”

“Oh?”

“He’s familiar with getting rid o’ Nen. During his… huh, what’s it called again… oh. Yeah. Audition. Durin’ his audition for Greedy Island—”

“ —Greed Island.”

You wave his correction off.

“—Yeah, yeah, whatever. But, basically, he’s legit. How’d ya even come across this?”

“Magic. ♥”

You make a face. “Is everyone who uses Nen annoying?”

“Some more than others.”

Speak of the devil. Craning your neck, you’re met with piercing gray eyes. Unlike Hisoka, Chrollo isn’t dressed like he’s auditioning for the circus. Instead, he comes across as a guy who’s going to pitch the worst idea for a startup you’ve ever heard. He’s wearing a dark blazer with a gray turtleneck beneath it, along with white pants and black loafers. You’re about to make your joke known when something about Chrollo’s demeanor changes your mind. Intensity pours off him in waves, giving you pause.

“Good news, boss. We found your exorcist.”

The title Hisoka uses to refer to him has you tilting your head. He did refer to himself as Chrollo’s ‘colleague,’ but the word boss implies hierarchy.

“I heard,” Chrollo smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m surprised you’re not rushing back to Greed Island to track him down.”

He slides into the booth beside you while never looking away from Hisoka. The tension brewing in the air perplexes you. Shouldn’t this news be a cause for celebration? You’ve helped Chrollo search for a Nen exorcist for months now. Chrollo’s been searching for a Nen exorcist for months now. You’re uncertain what reaction you expected, but it certainly wasn’t this.

“All in due time. I’d hate to cut my time with your little assistant short.”

Hisoka makes a point of looking you up and down.

Somehow, Hisoka has made Chrollo seem normal by comparison. Disliking the attention, you reach for your drink, only to notice how light it is. Have you already drunk that much? While inspecting the near-empty glass, you realize the room’s starting to feel warm. The stress of what you endured must’ve impaired your judgment.

What time is it, anyway? Do I have work tomorrow?

Your watch reads 2:05 a.m.

Shit.

“I need— need to get going…”

“Why the rush?” Hisoka questions. “Things were just starting to get interesting. ♥”

You ignore him and stare Chrollo down, waiting for him to move aside so you can leave. Instead of getting up, he leans closer, pursing his lips. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him. Heat creeps over your face, from your cheeks to your ears. There’s no denying that the bastard’s handsome. Your friends love teasing you about him for that very reason. They never believe your insistence on having a ‘strictly platonic’ relationship, some even have bets for when you’ll end up together.

Maybe you would’ve considered it if you didn’t know about his Nen proficiency.

There aren’t any readily available statistics for Nen, but if you had to guess, you’d say most of the population is ignorant of its existence. People who do know about the Hunter’s Association consider it a private enterprise that specializes in exploration and taking on contract jobs. According to Chrollo, this is by design. You can barely go about your day pretending there aren’t superhumans roaming the planet, doing all sorts of crazy nonsense.

Society would plunge into chaos if the knowledge reached them.

You hear what sounds like your name coming from underwater.

Blinking sluggishly, you discover Chrollo’s hand on your shoulder. “Hm? What?”

“I’ve been calling your name,” he speaks languidly, likely for your benefit. “Are you alright?”

“Well…” you trail off, pondering the question. “... Mm, yeah, probably not. I gotta get home, and— god, my car— it’s still back there. I don’t want… I can’t…”

The anxiety you thought you buried resuscitates itself. It’s dull compared to earlier, yet your breathing grows shallow and your hands feel clammy. Your intenses churn like a parasite had been embedded inside. Everything feels far away, as if you’re in a dream, physically present yet mentally adrift.

You could’ve died.

You almost died.

You’d fought desperately to scrub your mind of this knowledge, but the bottle can only do so much.

“Say, Chrollo,” with a nearly imperceptible motion, Hisoka summons a playing card between his middle and pointer fingers. “If I were to slice her pretty neck, what would you do?”

The old-fashioned glass Hisoka had been sipping from cracks.

Pressure invades the air like a thick, heady fog, so tangible in its potency, that the chatter elsewhere dies down. The sudden silence allows for the clinging of billiard balls to reverberate throughout. Patrons glance around, vaguely aware that something is wrong, yet ultimately unable to identify the source. This primal sense of foreboding evaporates as swiftly as it arrives. The lively atmosphere reemerges, until all present seem to have forgotten anything unusual ever occurred.

Hisoka absentmindedly cleans up the glass shards, piling them into the corner while Chrollo drums his fingers along the table. Chrollo’s jaw is set and the skin between his eyes is pinched in contemplation.

Hisoka lets out an exaggerated sigh. “This is turning into a bore. I was confident you’d lose your cool, even if just a bit…”

“Pathetic.”

The unexpected vitriol has them both turning their heads in your direction. Chrollo blinks, while Hisoka tilts his head, staring at you owlishly.

He points to himself. “Me?”

“Yeah, you! You’re like— one of those birds, those showoff birds… dancing with your colorful feathers… ‘nd stuff…” your speech isn’t the most coherent, unaided by the irritation that’s boiling your blood. You leer at him, fed up with everything, especially whatever schemes he’s roped you into. A rough picture is presenting itself, one stroke at a time. To Hisoka, you’re nothing more than glorified bait. You don’t know if he played a role in engineering the evening’s events, but it wouldn’t be a surprise.

At the very least, he admitted to following you. Even if he was a third party, he could’ve disposed of the impending threat. Instead, he waited, exposing you to bloodshed for his own ends. You wish you could come up with a more scathing insult. Unfortunately, your temple is throbbing and clear enunciation grows harder as your body digests the liquor you inhaled.

Hisoka looks at Chrollo. “I’m a bird?”

“She’s calling your bluff,” Chrollo clarifies. “Had you intended to follow up on your threat, she’d know.”

You’re glad Chrollo realized what you were going for. The diatribe sounded better in your head. Nonetheless, he’s communicated the essence of things, lacking as it is in panache. Hisoka hums, eyeing you like you’d make for a fine appetizer before the main course.

“You must have kept that detail from me on purpose. What an intriguing ability. ♥”

Chrollo brushes aside his comment and refocuses his attention on you. “I’ll drive you home.”

“But my car—”

“I’ll handle it,” Chrollo reassures.

He slides out from the booth and stares at you expectantly. You get the sense that trying his patience isn’t a good idea; his encounter with Hisoka must have soured his mood. He helps steady you as you stand, securing his arm behind your back. Neither of you acknowledges Hisoka while making for the door, though you can feel his eyes tracking your every movement.

Upon emerging from the bar, the cool air you deplored earlier feels like a godsend. You hear cars rushing up and down the street, indicating the presence of a highway. Other than that, you don’t recognize the area. It’s a small, decrepit outlet, featuring shops plastered with neon signs and bars over the windows.

Chrollo ushers you in the direction of a black, unmarked McLaren.

“If you’re gonna do all that, at least get a less basic color… like pink…”

“I’ll give it some thought.”

Once you’re in the passenger seat, he fixes the strap of your purse and then buckles you in. It isn’t long until you’re on the road. He stays in the slow lane, mindful to avoid abrupt motions. You recline back and rest your head, hugging your arms close to your body. At the next red light, he sheds his coat, draping it over your person. The cashmere fabric is soft on your skin, embedded with his cologne and warmth. This, paired with the low hum of the engine has your eyelids growing heavy. You try resisting the temptation.

“Thank you.”

“Hm? For what?”

“... Are you serious?” you murmur. “For comin’ to get me.”

“Of course.”

Relief rushes over you as the surrounding area becomes recognizable. Traffic is nonexistent this time of night, it shouldn’t be but a few more minutes until you’re home. Then you can crash out on your bed and deal with the existential weight of reality in the morning. Work can fire you for all you care, you just want to sleep. If you were on your deathbed, you’re ninety percent positive they’d ask you to find shift coverage before you croaked.

Chrollo pulls into your apartment complex, parking as close to the entrance as he can.

You fiddle with your seatbelt, intending to make the rest of the trip by yourself.

He places his large, calloused hand over yours, preventing further progress.

“... Chrollo?”

He doesn’t respond. His thumb rubs slow, steady circles against your skin. You swallow a growing lump in your throat. He hasn’t been himself all night. Or, to be more precise, he’s showing you a side of himself he’s hitherto kept hidden. You always knew there was more to him than he let on. You never wanted to open that Pandora's box, lest your plans be jeopardized. Playing with fire has its risks, yet cauterizing your personal wounds took priority. You don’t know if you have the right to pray the rest of your being doesn’t go up in flames.

“I assume you’re aware of my fondness for you?”

“I— well…” you stumble over your words, then meekly ask, “Is now really a good time for this?”

Chrollo lowers his head and smiles. “No, I suppose not.”

An uncomfortable silence hangs in the air.

“One more question, then I’ll let you go,” he looks up at you through thick lashes, an enigmatic gleam passing over his eyes. “Do I frighten you?”

Your body tenses. He addresses you so softly, so sweetly, had you not witnessed his mouth moving, you would’ve mistaken his voice for belonging to another. Your facilities aren’t functional enough to properly process his query. Perhaps that’s the point — him cornering you at this vulnerable junction. You don’t get why. You don’t think you could even if you were sober.

Chrollo, for his part, seems to acknowledge he won’t get far in your current state.

Or maybe he gleaned his answer.

He lifts your hand to his lips, where he presses a lingering kiss. You can’t bring yourself to be the first to pull away. He lingers a while longer, as if stuck in a trance. When he does part, the skin tingles in his absence.

“I’ll be in touch.”

For the past week, you’ve carried on as if nothing ever happened.

It’s easier this way. There are instances where your performance is threatened, like when you ran across a news article detailing the ‘grisly murder of two men at a parking garage on 9th St,’ yet these lapses can be smoothed over. Ignore, distract, forget. This cycle lends you a credence of normalcy and eases you back into everyday life.

You haven’t seen Chrollo since that night. You suppose he’s preoccupied with his arrangements to meet the Nen exorcist. While you don’t know the specifics, you imagine he’ll have to meet this Abengane in person. In the recording, he addressed two men — named Battera and Tsezguerra — where he proved himself qualified to enter ‘Greed Island.’ Aside from a few anonymous forums, information on this mythical game is sparse. All you know is that the price is exorbitant and that Battera obsessively tracks down every copy available.

Wherever there’s Nen, things inevitably get weird, you think.

You begin tidying up your apartment. First is drying off the dishes, which saw their first use all week for a much-needed home-cooked meal. While doing so, your phone vibrates. You throw the damp rag down in a hurry and check the screen. All you find is a notification about your upcoming menstrual cycle. Sighing, you put your phone down on the counter.

Chrollo had been truthful when he promised to take your Hatsu for assisting in the return of his. A part of you is relieved by his absence; the other is frustrated. You want to get this over with. It’s like when you have an appointment later in the day and spend the time leading up to it in a limbo, not wanting to get involved in anything until the commitment is over. Is it possible he already took it? Curious, you hold your dominant hand out. You haven’t used Instant Replay since the night at the biker’s bar.

Aura surges through you, concentrating at the palm of your hand. Much to your disappointment, the light pink cassette tape appears. Maybe it no longer works? As a test, you rewind the recording of the audio Chrollo provided at the café. Once primed, you press play, listening attentively for certain cues.

“It is my great honor to profess that I, Lilith, can purge you of any ailment, even scourges derived from Nen — for a small donation of…”

The self-proclaimed Mistress of Panaceas sounds increasingly garbled as her lies surface. Clicking your tongue, you deactivate your ability. Everything remains operational. You don’t know what you expected, you’ve overheard the telltale sounds of lying the past few days. It just hasn’t been directed at you, which weakens the effect.

Will you really have to endure this the rest of your life?

Shortly into resuming your task, there’s a knock at your door.

You ignore it, not in the mood to deal with a neighbor asking for something. After thirty or so seconds, there’s another round of knocking. You suppress a groan. Why can’t the world sense that you’re moody and let you brood in peace? Trudging over, you try to put on a pleasant face, unwilling to lash out on others even if you’re in a terrible mood. Erring on the side of caution, you glance out the peephole.

Upon doing so, you almost lose your balance.

…

He must’ve decided he kept you waiting long enough.

#chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #hxh x reader #yandere hxh x reader #chrollo brainrot #my stuff

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nottsangel · 8 months ago

Text

— artrick and camgirl!reader ੈ♡˳

moodboard

it began as just a quick way to make some extra money during college and nothing more than that. you were a bit apprehensive at first, aware of the risks and consequences of someone finding you, but eventually, you started to find joy in it, especially because you received a lot of attention— even more than the other girls on the same website. people, who where mostly older men, started to like you, and money began to pour in like never before. but no matter what, you had to keep it a secret from everyone.

yet, patrick who scours the whole internet for porn that matches his specific taste, managed to unexpectedly find you while you were live. he almost couldn’t believe his eyes— his best friend, with her legs spread wide as she touched herself and loud moans escaped her mouth. and god, the way you moaned sounded so angelic, with your pretty, soft lips parted in ecstasy. he simply had no other choice— he had to tell art.

“i swear to god patrick, i don’t wanna see those golden shower porn videos again.” “just, trust me, you’re gonna wanna see this.” patrick insisted as he opened his laptop. he glanced at the time. 10 pm. that was usually when you came online on thursdays, because yes, patrick had already watched you so many days in a row, he memorised your streaming schedule. “who are these girls?” art questioned with a raised brow, puzzled as to why patrick would show him random camgirls, until he noticed he noticed you— fully naked while you held a vibrator against your swollen clit, causing his eyes to widen as he leaned closer to the laptop screen. “holy… fuck.” “yup. i know.”

and that’s how it all began. now, every day right before you would come online, patrick and art would sit impatiently next to each other on the bed, eagerly waiting for you to go live. “you think she’ll use that pink dildo again?” art asked patrick with clammy hands resting on his knees. “god, i hope so. that one’s my favourite.” and when you finally appeared on screen, a smirk spread simultaneously across both boys’ faces as they stared mesmerised at the screen, quickly adjusting their positions as their pants grew uncomfortably tight.

it was somewhat odd— it almost felt like video calling with you, as if you were touching yourself just for them, until they were hit with the harsh reality of the comments and countless men thirsting over you. the wave of comments flooding in during your streams, especially when you would interact with them, evoked a complex mix of emotions in patrick and art. they were consumed by jealousy— they wanted you for themselves, and they hated the fact that others could see what they saw. “jesus, these men are fucking desperate.” art exclaimed while reading the quick-paced comments with an unamused face. patrick shook his head in disapproval as he let out a chuckle. “i bet they’re all jerking off while watching her, fucking creeps.”

and ultimately… they found themselves becoming what they once criticised the most, as they’re now shoulder to shoulder in art’s stanford dorm room, hands tightly wrapped around their throbbing erections as they pumped it quickly. “this, uhm… this isn’t weird, right?” art questioned, his breaths coming in quick pants as your moans echoed through the shitty speakers of his cheap laptop. “no, no… i mean, we’re looking at her, right? nothing weird about that.” patrick reassured art as his eyes stayed fixed on your movements, and art nodded in agreement.

and even now, as they masturbated not only on their own to you but together, while watching you strip and bring yourself to your orgasms over and over again, they still hung out with you as usual. you noticed a change in their behaviour though— you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but they seemed more, nervous around you. you brushed it off quickly though, thinking it was just you. but little did you know they were indeed nervous to be around you now, as their eyes scanned every inch of your body covered in clothing, knowing that they had seen all of it— all of you, naked.

“do you… do you think we should tell her? that we know?” patrick asked art as they were once again, sitting in art’s dorm room, their hands lazily pumping their cocks. soft fucks and oh my gods slipped from your lips and resonated through the room along with the buzzing sound of your rose toy, which was the usual on fridays. “i mean, yeah, we should, eventually. maybe… uhm, next week… or something.” “yeah, yeah. next week.”

ੈ♡˳

🏷️ tags: @maizweig @swamp-box @oceandriveab @starkeysprincess @unhingedbanks @imawhoreforu @mcugirl @skylerwhitwyo @maybankswifey @hearts-4-kai @takaosin @imbabycowboy @badesire @parkerloves @diorrfairy @jizzlle

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thef1diary · 8 months ago

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Piano Punishment | C. Leclerc

Summary: You feel neglected by Charles due to his busy schedule, so you ask him to play the piano for you to regain his attention. Things take a turn when you spread your legs right in front of him with only one rule: he must play without a single mistake.

Part 2: edged

warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, masturbation, oral (fem receiving), fingering, overstimulation, spanking (like twice), things that should not be done on a piano.

wc: 2.4k

masterlist

The summer sun filters through the lace curtains, casting intricate patterns of light and shadows across the room. You're standing by the window, feeling the heat of the day mixed with a simmering irritation. Charles had been distant lately, not entirely by choice. His time had been consumed by the relentless demands of being a Formula One driver. Now that summer break began, his focus had shifted to the excitement surrounding his new ice cream brand. Meetings, phone calls, and endless travel have left little room for the intimacy you once shared.

Determined to change that, you head to the bedroom, opening your wardrobe. You sift through your clothes, selecting a simple summer dress that clings to your curves in all the right places. It seemed normal, appropriate according to the weather, but it was just a part of your plan. You forego underwear, adding a tantalizing element only you were aware of.

You glance at yourself in the mirror, adjusting the dress and letting your hair fall loosely around your shoulders. Satisfied with your appearance, you left the bedroom, your mind set on drawing Charles away from his duties.

You find him in his study, hunched over his laptop, eyes glued to the screen, engrossed in some unknown task. You walk in quietly, your presence a gentle intrusion into his self-imposed isolation.

"Charles," you say, your voice soft but insistent. "I want you to play the piano for me."

He looks up, a flicker of surprise crossing his features as he notices you standing there. His eyes take in your outfit, lingering on the way the simple summer dress hugged your curves. For a moment, he looked impressed, even a bit captivated, but then his expression shifted, a mixture of regret due to his duties.

"I've got so much work to do, mon amour," he stated, glancing back at his laptop, the weight of his responsibilities evident in his voice. "I really can't take a break right now."

You step closer, your fingers lightly grazing his arm, drawing his attention back to you. "Just one song," you coax, your tone leaving little room for refusal. "For me?"

He sighed, conflicted, but the look in your eyes and the subtle allure of your outfit began to sway him. With a reluctant nod, he closed the laptop and stood, following you to the living room. His piano stood majestically in the center, a reminder of the times when music flowed freely between you, of the mornings he woke you with melodies he created.

He sat on the bench, leaving enough room for you beside him, glancing up at you with a dimpled smile. However, you don't sit beside him as he expected. Instead, you climb on top of the piano, facing him with your legs dangling just above the keys. He raised his eyebrows in question but you only smiled in return.

"Play something beautiful," you whisper, your voice carrying a hint of mischief.

Charles started to play, his fingers dancing across the keys with practiced ease. The melody was filled with the kind of emotion that only he could bring to life. As the music fills the room, you shifted slightly, spreading your legs just enough to give him a glimpse of your bare skin beneath your dress.

His fingers faltered, and he stops playing abruptly, his hands instinctively reaching out to grab your legs. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and desire.

You pull your legs back, out of his grasp and lean forward, your expression turning serious. "I waited for you for days," you spoke, your voice edged with frustration. "You never came, you were always too busy. So now your punishment is that you don't get me, even if I'm right in front of you."

He looks up at you, the realization of your words sinking in. There's a flicker of guilt in his eyes, mingling with the desire and frustration. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his hands falling back to his sides. "I didn't realize—"

"You didn't," you cut him off, your tone firm. "But now you do. So if you want me, you have to earn it. Play the song, baby, without mistakes."

Charles took a deep breath, his fingers returning to the keys. The music starts again, this time with a new intensity, a determination to meet your challenge. You sit back casually, spreading your legs just enough to reveal that you're not wearing anything underneath your dress.

He catches a glimpse and his fingers falter, a note going sour as he looks up at you, eyes wide with surprise and a flash of desire. His hands momentarily freeze over the keys.

"Focus, Charles," you say, lifting your hips up to scrunch the dress up to your waist, giving him a full view bare legs. His gaze shifts from being locked onto your eyes down to your exposed pussy as you spread your legs again. "No mistakes."

He swallows hard, his voice barely a whisper as he mumbles under his breath, "I want to touch you."

You shake your head slowly, a sly smile playing on your lips. "Earn it then," you murmur.

His fingers moved gracefully to press the keys but you could see the tension in his posture based on the way his eyes kept flicking up to you, struggling to stay on task.

The melody continues, though it's punctuated by occasional hesitation as he tries to concentrate. You decide to up the ante. You bring your fingers up to your mouth, wetting them with your tongue before slowly trailing your hand down to your clit, teasing it lightly. You moan softly, the sound mingling with the music, causing his fingers to falter momentarily. His eyes widen, darkening with desire, but he forces himself to keep playing, his jaw clenched with the effort.

You watch him intently, your movements becoming more deliberate. Your fingers slide down, dipping into your wetness, smearing it over your pussy before inserting two inside. You began to slowly thrust them in and out, your back arching slightly with the pleasure. The sight of you, combined with the sensual sounds you made, is almost too much for him.

Charles' eyes keep flicking back to you, his focus slipping more with every passing second. You can see the raw desire in his gaze, the way he watches your every move, almost hypnotized. He struggles to maintain the melody, but you can tell he's on the brink of losing control.

"Keep playing, baby," you whisper, your voice sultry and commanding. "No mistakes."

His playing grows more erratic, his fingers dancing across the keys dangerously yet he still manages to press every note correctly. You moan louder as you thrust your fingers deeper, and when you lock your eyes with him, your expression is one of pure seduction.

"Do you like watching me, Charles?" you purr, your voice thick with arousal. "Does it make you want me even more?"

He nods almost imperceptibly, his eyes never leaving you. You can see the struggle in his expression, the way he's fighting to keep playing despite the overwhelming distraction.

"Good," you continue, your fingers moving faster. "Because that's all you're gonna get until you finish the song perfectly."

His breathing becomes ragged, his fingers slipping more frequently on the keys but he manages to catch himself before making a mistake. He knows he can't afford to start over; his patience wearing thin, and his cock is straining almost painfully against his pants.

Determined, he pours every ounce of focus into the final notes, his eyes flicking between the keys and your fingers moving rhythmically. The tension in the room is electric, your moans growing louder, each one pushing him closer to the edge of his control.

As he nears the end of the piece, you can feel your orgasm building, your body trembling with anticipation. The last few notes ring out, perfectly played, just as your orgasm crashes over you, leaving you gasping and shuddering in pleasure.

As soon as his fingers left the piano keys, he wrapped one hand around your wrist, bringing your cum-coated fingers to his lips. He licks them clean, his gaze locked onto yours with a fierce intensity. He moans at your distinct taste, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine since you knew the skill he had with his tongue.

"You have no idea how much I missed this," he murmured, voice thick with desire.

Without waiting for a response, Charles lowered his head between your spread legs, his mouth finding your clit with unerring precision. His tongue worked expertly, flicking and swirling, as his fingers entered your wetness, thrusting in time with the rhythm he set.

The pleasure built rapidly, your body responding eagerly to his touch. "Charles," you moaned, your hands tangling in his hair, urging him on. The room was filled with the sounds of your breathless gasps and soft cries of pleasure.

His grip on your thighs tightened, holding you open and at his mercy as he drove you relentlessly towards another orgasm.

"I want to feel you cum on my fingers," he mumbled against your sensitive clit, the vibrations of his voice sending you spiralling closer to the edge.

You could feel the tension coiling in your core, your body trembling as the waves of pleasure built higher and higher. "Charles, 'm so close," you panted, your voice breaking with need.

He intensified his efforts, his tongue and fingers moving with a coordinated accuracy that only heightened your pleasure. With a final, desperate cry, you shattered as your orgasm crashed over you in powerful waves.

Before you could catch your breath, Charles scooped you up, his strength lifting you effortlessly from the piano. He threw you over his shoulder, carrying you towards the bedroom with a determined stride.

"Charles!" you exclaimed when his palm landed on your ass, a mix of surprise and arousal in your voice.

He smirked, giving you another playful smack. "You think you can tease me like that and not face the consequences?" he asked, his voice low and dripping with desire. "I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk, much less punish me for not giving you enough attention."

The anticipation and excitement made your heart race as he carried you into the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed, his eyes dark with need as he quickly shed his clothes, revealing his hard, muscled body. He moved with purpose, his hands and mouth exploring your body with a renewed fervour once he stripped your dress off.

"You've had my attention all along," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot as he trailed kisses down your neck. "But today, mon bébé, you have all of me."

His words sent a shiver through your body, down to your pussy, clenching around nothing but air. He positioned himself between your legs, his body pressing against yours, his cock hard and leaking precum. With a deep, intense kiss on your lips, he entered you slowly, making sure you felt every inch. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and intimacy.

He set a demanding pace, each thrust powerful and deliberate. His hands gripped onto your hips, holding you in place while the intensity of his movements left you breathless.

"I missed this so much," he panted, his eyes never leaving yours. "I missed you."

You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as you met his rhythm, your body moving in perfect harmony with his. "Charles," you moaned, your voice breaking with pleasure. "Don't stop."

He didn't. He continued to thrust into you with a relentless passion, his hands roaming your body, finding every sensitive spot and exploiting it. The room was filled with the sounds of your shared ecstasy, each moan and gasp driving you both closer to the edge.

"I'm going to make you cum again," he promised, his voice thick with desire. "And again. Until you can't take any more."

His words, combined with the intensity of his thrusts, pushed you over the edge. You cried out his name, your body convulsing with pleasure as your orgasm ripped through you. Charles didn't slow down; he continued to drive into you, prolonging your climax, drawing out every last bit of pleasure.

When you thought you couldn't take any more, he shifted, changing the angle slightly, and began to move with even greater urgency. The sensation was too much, your body overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch. Another orgasm built quickly, your cries of pleasure filling the room as he brought you to the peak again.

He didn't stop until you were both completely spent, your body trembling and boneless beneath him. Only then, did he slow down, his movements becoming gentle, almost tender as he brought you down from the heights of your pleasure.

Finally, he collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms as his cum leaked out of your pussy. You both laid there, panting and content, the warmth of his body comforting against yours.

After a few moments of blissful silence, you looked at him with a playful glint in your eyes. "I guess the punishment worked, huh?" you teased, a sly smile playing on your lips.

Charles chuckled, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "It did, but do something like that again and I just might have to punish you."

Intrigued, you raised your eyebrows and straddled him. "Oh yeah? What would you do?"

"For one..." he trailed off, dragging his fingertips down your body. "I won't let you cum for days," he stated as his fingers made contact with your dripping pussy, making you twitch due to sensitivity.

"Might keep you on edge, touch you, and just when you feel like I'll let you cum, I'll rip it away," he added, his gaze focusing on his fingers pressing into you, pushing his cum back into your pussy.

You rolled your eyes at the sensation and his words, resting your head against his shoulder. "I don't know if I want you to do that or not," you mumbled truthfully. The idea was enticing, but knowing Charles, he would tease you until you lost your mind.

You could feel him chuckle underneath you. "It's entirely up to you."

Placing his fingers underneath your chin, he tilted your face towards him. "Behave, and it won't happen. Act out, and I swear, this was the last orgasm you'll experience for a long, long time."

Taglist: @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @xjval @namjoonswaifu @isabellewinchester @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @mehrmonga @tellybearryyyy @wobblymug @bokutos-babyowl @nikfigueiredo @jointhehunt67 @sya-skies @charlesleclercsonlywife @dreamingonbed @wonnou @heylookwhoitis @67-angelofthelordme-67 @saachiep

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 imagines #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #thef1diary fic

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back2bluesidex · 1 month ago

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To Be Popular - JJK [Prologue]

Pairing: Social Media Influencer! Jungkook X Marketing Manager! Reader ft. Yoongi

Summary:

You love everything about social media - apart from the ever-growing number of social media influencers. You don't understand how these people gain followers and admirers just by installing a camera and doing very basic things in front of it. And you despise how some of them can do anything to gain fame, to be popular - even if it includes uploading their bedroom scene in pornsites aka people like Jeon Jungkook. But when your company launches a new product and your department head tasks you with signing Jeon Jungkook up as an endorsement partner - you have no choice but to chase him like the corporate slave that you are. However, things turn worse when you embroil in a dating rumor with him and have to keep the game going for the sake of everything. is it really for the worse or things will turn in a way you never expected it to?

Theme: Strangers to lovers au, fake dating au, kind of enemies to lover au, angst, smut, fluff.

Full Series Word Count: 26k

Chapter word count: 1k

Warnings: a tiny little smutty scene, dirty words.

Masterlist | Patreon (For access to the complete series)

Taglist requests are open.

Minors, I am not responsible for what you consume online. So, act more rationally and stay away.

A/N: After brooding for a long time, I have decided to (alongside your votes) release one of the patreon exclusive, since no other stories are working out. Though this is originally a drabble series, I will release longer chapters here.

Chapter index: -

Or read the full series right away on Patreon at a discounted price today!!

Your eyes zero on your laptop screen - the quality is just above what is called grainy.

But you can clearly recognize those tattoos. Moreover, you can recognize that voice, even if he says nothing good but filth.

“You whore!” a slap rings as if to punctuate the man’s breathy voice, “look at your greedy hole swallowing me up so good!”

You look at what his voice is referring to. The place where his cock disappears into her, creating a lewd, wet sound, her arousal drips down the back of her thigh - your own thighs come against each other as an impact.

Even though their faces are not visible in the 3 minute video, the whole country knows who they are.

Social media influencer Jeon Jungkook and Youtuber Kim Doona.

There are a plethora of reasons behind why you don’t like these social media influencers. If you have the energy to make a list then it will go like:

1. These people think of themselves much more highly than they actually are. You mean, they are not even celebrities or making the country proud or something. What the fuck make them so obnoxious?

2. They have an awful number of dumb followers. Why do people even follow them? For showing their makeup and skin-care routine? For screaming loudly at the gaming screen? For recording themselves eating, doing the most random shit every normal human being does on a daily basis? You just don’t understand why.

3. These people are absolutely fame-hungry. They can do anything and everything to boost their followers even if the said actions aren’t really positive.

Take an instance from the current scenario - two of the most popular social media influencers have dropped their bedroom scene at an adult site and it got monetized within a day. Nice move because they gained both money and fame 10x overnight.

It’s not that you have paid to watch what you are watching currently - you would rather die than feeding into the delusions of these influencers. You are watching because you despise these people and there was a leaked version circulating on Telegram.

You scoff at the screen but the wetness in between your legs scoffs back at you.

You hate them, yeah, but it’s not like you are totally immune to the sexy scene they have portrayed. Especially the way Jeon Jungkook’s tattoo arm held onto the female’s waist, or the way his muscles flexed under the dim light, or the way his cock-

“Y/N! What the fuck?” you scold yourself, slam-shutting your laptop with unnecessary force. You blame it on your temporary state of celibacy that has been forced upon you since your last break up.

And the fact that you have a fat crush on your manager - doesn’t make things any less painful.

So you decide to shut off your system for the night and go to sleep as you should have done long ago. You have work tomorrow and a meeting, being wet after watching some influencers fuck each other wouldn’t help you with your career.

Or would it?

Your jaw hangs ajar, threatening to touch the floor as Min Yoongi, aka the manager you have a fat crush on, presents the campaign plan of your company’s new product’s marketing. Everything was fine until Yoongi suggested influencer endorsement and if this is not a joke of the universe then you don’t know what it is because you can see Jeon Jungkook’s picture gracing the screen.

“Jeon Jungkook? Why?” you utter these words without so much of a thought.

Yoongi looks at you with his narrowed eyes, “why not? You know, he is really famous. He is trending currently.”

“Yeah but the reason he is trending- well. I don’t think he is suitable for our brand image.” you press on.

Yoongi chuckles at your constipated expression, “Y/N-ah” he calls you softly and a tiny part of your heart melts, “I am sure our brand image can go up with a few charitable works here and there. But the company wants a return of what they are investing in marketing. I bet signing up Jeon Jungkook will help.”

“Y/N, you know we are already at a tight spot right? Our last campaign wasn’t as successful as we expected. The company may take steps if we don’t do this right this time.” calls Mrs. Lee from the other side of the table.

“And before you ask me why him, why not the other influencers…” Yoongi chimes in again, “We are selling gaming laptops and this guy is addicted to games. He has more followers than the actual streamers. He is young, hot, and talented in many areas. In one word, he is perfect.”

“You awfully sound like you want to date him.” You scoff at the man. He only chuckles.

Yoongi tries to say something but a knock rings on the door. One of the staff opens the door only a little and says, “Sir, he is here.”

Yoongi nods and says, “send him inside.”

“Who is coming?” you place the question. Only for Yoongi to smirk as a response.

When you are about to press more, the door swings open revealing the man who-should-not-be-named, Jeon Jungkook.

Your eyes go wide as you take him in - all baggy clothes and a cute bucket hat perched on the top of his head. Bambi eyes scanning the room like a puppy brought to his very new home. As if he is not the guy who is going viral for fucking on camera and selling it to an adult site.

He bows deeply and opens his mouth to greet, “Hello, I am Jeon Jungkook.”

You feel your blood pressure raising at the thought of working with him. You will survive it right?

You will have to.

Permanent Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie @mikrokookiex @jjk174 @lallataegi @savageyoongi @jwnghyuns @parapiop7 @futuristicenemychaos @armystay89 @ryryvna @purple-realms

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optiblog · 6 months ago

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OPTİVİSER - GOLD

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espace--positif · 3 months ago

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Focus and Distraction

A Zayne x F!Reader fluffy shortfic [Love and Deepspace]

Summary: What do you do when you’re distracted by your partner’s arms when trying to work? Arm wrestle him, of course. Pairing: Zayne x F!Reader WC: ~1.5k Content tags: fluff, suggestive themes, arm wrestling, thirsting over arms A/N: Reader is better than me cause I personally would’ve asked to be put in a chokehold and dragged to the bedr— *gets shoved in a van* THANKS FOR READING *scrumpt through the cracked windows as the van speeds off*

Read on AO3 // Masterlist

It was a day as normal as any, with Zayne tapping away at his laptop, buried in his work, while you polished off reports and fielded mission requests on your tablet. Seated comfortably at his kitchen table, you both toiled away at your respective responsibilities. You’d often engage in this coworking practice — it was the perfect solution to your unfortunately busy schedules, granting you a chance to see each other despite it all.

And the comfort that his calm presence provided during your work sessions was no secret; you found yourself more productive, more motivated, and less likely to spiral into needless anxieties when your slate grew a little too full. You liked to think he felt the same, that you could at least make his work more bearable, though he’d never verbalized it.

But today, his presence was beginning to become a bit of a problem.

You see, it was a balmy May afternoon, and with the weather becoming increasingly warmer, wardrobe changes naturally followed. Namely, Zayne’s dress shirt, usually neatly cuffed at the wrist, was now rolled up, exposing his sculpted arms. It was a minor change, one that could easily be overlooked and probably went unnoticed by everyone else, but it was all you could look at right now. Consuming your every thought, as your finger hovered over your tablet, occupied by nothing.

“It’s not break time yet,” Zayne sighed with his eyes still glued to his screen, and you startled. The man truly had a sixth sense.

The timer-clock you’d purchased for him as a gift, in the shape of a cute tomato, sat between you at the table, confirming that you were indeed only five and a half minutes into your fifteen-minute work block. You frowned at its adorable yet accusatory gaze.

“I know, I know,” you replied, willing yourself to return to your reports.

But the rhythmic typing that came from Zayne’s side of the table called you, and it wasn’t long before your eyes were glancing upwards again. The small, almost imperceptible throb of his arm muscles as he pressed down on the enter key, a push ever so slightly harsher than his normal typing, had you captivated. You loudly tapped at your tablet, paying the endless words on your report no mind as you stared. If he could hear you working, then he couldn’t possibly catch you in the act, right?

But he did. Eyes darting up impossibly fast, Zayne’s gaze caught yours and you were far too slow to look away.

“If you need to take a break right now, we can do that,” he said. He’d always been understanding of the ebbs and flows of focus, and how uncontrollable those tides were. So when you would become visibly distracted, he’d be less rigorous with enforcing the schedule you’d both set for yourselves. Little did he know that he was the very reason that your mind was endlessly wandering today.

“Nope,” you said as your shifty eyes met with your tablet once more, only to find that you’d deleted the last five lines of your report in your blind tapping. Resigned, you sighed. “Ok, maybe I do need a break.”

A soft smile tugged at Zayne’s lips as he half-closed the lid of his laptop, directing his full attention to you. “Short walk or tea?”

You pondered your two choices for a bit before a glint of playfulness flashed in your eyes. You couldn’t suppress the smile that invaded your expression as you responded: “Neither. Arm wrestle me.”

Zayne raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Arm wrestle?”

“Yeah, you know, to refocus,” you offered. “Something about muscle activation, blood flow…”

You trailed off, hoping he’d have some explanation that could give credence to your odd request.

“Stretching one’s muscles is important to reduce strain caused by long stationary periods, and light exercise can improve blood flow, which is linked to—”

“Exaaactly,” you interrupted, which earned you the mildest frown, more of a pout really. But you had more pressing matters at hand. “So let’s do it.”

You gently swept the devices and papers that littered the table to the side before leaning your elbow onto the dark wood. Zayne stared at you for a moment, incredulous, but soon obliged, clamping your hand within his. His soft fingers were cool to the touch, yet the warmth that settled within you was anything but. For the sight you were taken with right now was even better than you’d imagined. The muscles of his arms were now fully flexed despite his gentle grasp, their chiseled edges sharp enough to cut glass. Yet the soft curves where the muscle dipped beckoned you, the outline of taut veins branching under his skin as he shifted his elbow.

A breathy laugh escaped your lips, satisfaction taking over. You’d already seen every part of Zayne, countless times at that, but you doubted you’d ever find a sight more perfect than this. It was the subtlety of it all, the way the weight of his muscle shifted with every small movement, the way his sleeves constricted around the girth when his elbows bent, the almost forbidden setting in which all these little details invaded your eyes and mind. You briefly pondered whether this was how Victorian men felt when they managed to glimpse a stray ankle in the ballroom.

“Ready?” Zayne said in that low half-whispered tone he knew you liked, and the smirk he wore let you know he was probably already onto you. Not that you cared.

“Don’t hold back,” you replied. If only he knew how much you meant it.

You gently tapped the table in a mock countdown, signaling the beginning of the battle. Three, two, one.

You braced yourself, digging your free arm into the table as you pushed. But your strength was met with no reciprocation — the fact that your joined palms remained in a standstill told you as much, and the barely perceptible twitch in his arm confirmed that he wasn’t even playing, not really. And the ratcheting anticipation that had built up within you remained an unresolved ache that bloomed in your abdomen.

“You’re letting me win,” you huffed, and he confirmed your suspicions with a smirk as he let you slam his arm down with a soft thud.

He chuckled as he softly stroked the back of your hand with his thumb. “There’s no fairness in beating such a distracted opponent.”

A flush crept from your ears and through your heating face. You felt silly for getting so worked up about something so banal, but part of you couldn’t help but smile at the fact that Zayne was actually entertaining this. Seemed to be enjoying it, even.

“Hmm,” you hummed, bringing your free hand to boldly trace at the ever so slightly raised veins on his arm. “That won’t hold up in court. When I tell all your colleagues that I beat you at arm wrestling. Maybe I’ll post a moment commemorating my victory…?”

You trailed off, the delectable firmness under your palm, his muscles constricting and relaxing as you moved up his arm, the goosebumps you felt prickling at your fingertips, all doing nothing to quell the mounting thrill drumming in your core.

“In that case…” said Zayne before gently pulling your free hand away. And his next gesture was not so gentle. He effortlessly pushed up against your palm, teasingly letting up as your interlinked hands were upright again. You grabbed onto the edge of the table with your free hand, which you were pretty sure was considered cheating, as Zayne somehow kept your strengths matched while his hold on your palm somehow remained soft. And in an instant, the tables were turned. Your arm was roughly shoved down before you had the time to react, but you only had eyes for one thing.

You watched the muscles in Zayne’s arm ripple deliciously as he stretched his fingers, finally untangling his hand from yours. He let out a soft breath, something between a grunt and a sigh, relishing in his victory. And you were relishing in something else entirely. You let out a breathy sound of your own, much less intentional than Zayne’s.

“And that’s five minutes,” Zayne coolly remarked, as if nothing had ever happened. “Break time’s over.”

“Oh.”

“We are still working,” he said as he adjusted the cuffs of his rolled-up sleeves, his taut muscles constricting the fabric with the movement. Thirty wanderers wearing top hats could walk through the front door right that instant and you still wouldn’t have been pulled from the sight.

Right. Work.

“Do we have to?” you pleaded.

“Hmm,” he hummed. “That depends. Are you still… distracted?”

“Yes.”

Zayne sighed, a voiceless exhale. But the twinkle in his hazel eyes, the half-cocked smile that tugged at his lips, and the soft tightening and releasing of his forearm muscles as his fingertips drummed the table top betrayed a palpable anticipation. “Then we should do something about that.”

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #dr zayne #zayne x reader #zayne x y/n #zayne x mc #love and deepspace zayne #zayne x you #lads zayne #l&ds zayne x reader #lnds x reader #l&ds zayne #l&ds #li shen #zayne fluff #lads fluff #espace--positif

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san8ny · 8 months ago

Text

STILL GOT IT !

?: While you continue reign over your niche internet kingdom, Ellie finds herself consumed with thoughts of you, you and you! So much so, her fans are staring to notice. Joining your livestream, which she’s been trying to abstain from, you quickly remind her on why you’re so addictive in the first place! / E.W / 18+

!: too lazy to write all warnings but pretty tame when it comes to smut. s

Her heart initially falls to her ass when she sees the plethora of comments underneath her latest video, usual adornment of little heart emojis which now turned into discussions of twitter threads. How had a clipping of her rubbing herself inside a public bathroom stall, the usual shtick before she clocks into a boring 9-5– garner this much negativity? What changed?

“Eh, you don’t seem as passionate after the collab tbhhh”

“lost her touch lmfao”

“does this mean we get another video with you and—

She shuts the laptop closed, unable to further stomach her unsatisfied audience with thoughts running rampant in her mind.

Lost..her touch?

Surely these comments were satirical and just baiting her for another video with you, right? I mean, it’s not like she hasn’t gotten hate comments before, though rare for a small homemade creator like herself, but that was besides the point!

it irked her.

Since when has Ellie ever needed anyone for a platform she grew and built, huh? So what if you had given her the best fucking of her life? Genuinely, what about it? It’s not like she goes to sleep with you on her mind, just to awaken the next morning with her pajama bottoms absolutely drenched because she had the most delicious wet dream about you! That’d be crazy..

She rubs her temples a bit to soothe the pounding of her head, she needed a quick fix to this issue and fast! Opening the device back up, she seeks answers.

⌕ [“How do I get horny again without looking at the hot girl who had sex with me’s page?”]

Holding her breath, she types into the search bar. They do say google holds all the answers.

aaaand..nothing.

God, maybe she was dealing with an original experience? 8 Billion people and all useless.

What if you’ve ruined her to the brink of no-return? She can’t even orgasm anymore on her page without watching you, which makes the climaxes lackluster. She can never go back after you’ve given her a taste of the real thing.

That night, she props her laptop up with you pulled up on the screen. You’re wearing a pretty lingerie set, too pretty of one Ellie thinks. It’s the little fancy-pancy one’s you had in your closet that night you graciously let her stay over. Post-nut delirium, but Ellie could still see you liked lace alot, it being the main choice of material inhabiting your wardrobe.

Hot.

Her eyes scower the screen as donations roll in and as per usual, you thank the viewers with a pristine smile, like you didn’t turn Ellie back into a fuckin’ virgin.

She hasn’t been on one of your streams in a while actually, too caught up with work but now, she really remembers why she use to.

You were a guilty pleasure. Addictive, and Ellie didn’t even have a knack for sweets; you just always managed to pollute her head with the most vile of scenarios she could envision recreating with you and fuck, did she hate herself for it— hated herself for becoming so obsessed with someone who only saw her as a collaborater, a co-worker.

She couldn’t complain however, not with the way you manage to talk everyone through it in your streams in a low shaky voice, and especially, not with the way you capture everyones attention with your movements.

and, like a moth to a flame, Ellie finds herself, unaware, cupping her breasts..kneading the flesh like soft dough through her bleach-stained band tee, relapsing back into a place she thought she wouldn’t want to return to; she can’t help the moans that steadily escape her when you let one of your own out, and God, Ellie might really be the worst person because she hasn’t had this good of a masturbation sesh in forever. It’s been feeling so cold and robotic lately with her trying to appease her few followers, but we know how that turned out.

“Ellie’s in the stream?” You whimper out, reading the explosive chat when you slap the silicone toy messily against your puffy clit, swollen under it’s hood but sitting so pretty like an pearl would on its’s oyster, glistening in both your own liquids. “Hi Els..” Your whiney voice calls her out.

Oh God.

Ellie’s eyes roll back abit when she sees your crinkled eyes, lip pulled in between teeth and your flushed cheeks. She practically punches the ‘Co-Host’ request button with her camera off so only her pathetic pants of your name are heard, “H-hi doll..” She hisses out softly, “You l-look so pretty r’now, ah!..’m sorry haven’t been o-on your—mmh!— streams..”

You giggle at this, and the viewer count doubles in amount. Somehow, the stream becomes what seems like a steamy facetime call between two creators, with the rest of the viewers witnessing and prying in on the salacious moment, “‘s okay..just w-wanna hear your noises, Ellie.” It’s like you knew she couldn’t speak to you without a hand busying itself down there..

The girl groans, dropping her camera inbetween her legs to the echoing sounds of squelching and heaven. Though you couldn’t see her in the dark, 2:30 AM lighting of her bedroom she lounges in, you could feel it. She doesn’t even remember the last time she’d secrete this much arousal without the assistance of lube.

“A-ah, me baby? Gosh, ‘jus wanna watch you f’ a sec. Hear me well?”

You nod, eyebrows furrowing and your eyes growing more heavy when you prop your legs up on the gaming chair, displaying your drenched pelvic area— all so messy and for everyone to see. Mainly the broad on the other end of the stream..

You squeal when you curl your fingers into a specifically spongy spot, lips parting and your head thrown back a bit— you’d long ditched the dildo for something a bit more efficient, something to really capture the moment between you. Strands of hair stick to your forehead when an orgasm arises, and you seem a bit upset for cumming too quickly, not when Ellie has just got here!

Prolonging it a bit, you heave and retreat from your digits, rubbing your thighs imaptiently with your sighs stuttering, all while the other girl slaps at her cunt from what you can hear. Painslut

Ellie looks up back at you when she, herself, feels a tight coil in her stomach beginning to loosen, “B-boutta’ cum, dollface. Cmon..put them back on ‘er. Need my girl to do it with me.”

You nod ever so slightly to her voice, though you cannot see her, the raspiness of her voice takes you to a whole other level, “Ellie..” you cry out when your fingers make contact, it seems to be hitting you harder than usual, hypersensitivity of edging yourself all stream. Is it so wrong her green-eyed gaze trains on you intently while you whine and bitch for her?

The muscles in her abdomen tighten when she particularly notices a dumbed out look on you, saliva seeping past your glossy lips and dribbling to the lacy outfit you had on, rubbing her clit as fast as she can, she eggs you on, “Ah! Ah! J-just there w’you..wanna do it ‘wif you.”

Ellie gasps when your legs twitch uncontrollably, and on-cue, as promised, she meets the point with you— biting her knuckle when she spasms through the waves of orgasmic pleasure.

A few moments go past when Ellie picks her phone camera up to see you’d already went past your donation threshold. She can hear your hiccups, hair all messed up and covering your face— sweet baby..

She quickly ends the live-stream for you, a co-host accessible option you’d enabled incase you couldn’t end it from your own screen.

just to run to her bathroom to clean herself up before heading to your place.

Was she invited? No. Was she likely pushing a boundary? Yes, but, was she going to start a ‘no-aftecare’ streak in her entirety of 23 years? Fuck no.

Whether you liked it or not, she was on her way.

@san8ny: “alr she still got it ig”

#havent posted a fic inna while #heres sum slightly touch depraved ellie for yall #i usually post at night since it gets more interactions then #but im busy 2nite so i gotta post in the morning #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams x reader #tlou 2 smut

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thetxtdevil · 6 months ago

Note

hi hi kween

just read "getting caught" and hgdtykbc omg 😮‍💨 your writing is gonna kill me someday (pls never stop 🛐🛐)

could you now pls write the reader getting caught by the boys???? any way you prefer

thank you thank you thank you 😘

--nsfw--

Yeonjun

You finally did it, you finally got a vibrater. Pink and bendy you switch the settings feeling the buzz tingling your hand. You smile to yourself excited to start using it soon, but how soon is too soon? Looking at the time you debate, Yeonjun is coming home in an hour would that be enough time or is it possible to wait it out until later. Entranced by the smooth texture of the toy and the low vibrations you could feel your groin burning for something. Maybe a quick session won't hurt. Slipping your bottoms off and lifting your shirt, you start rolling pinching your nipples getting yourself excited. Turning the toy on at the lowest setting then dipping it into your folds lifting it up to barely touch your clit. What was supposed to be a few minutes became an hour. Yeonjun open your door to greet you only to be greeted by you fucking yourself. The sight alone was enough for him to get hard. He notices your wrists cramping, aw poor baby needs help. The dip of the bed and a soft caress of your thigh brought your attention seeing the man's quirked eyebrows above his lustful gaze.

Soobin

Your damn computer lost energy from the hours of use now you're sneaking into Soobin's room to get his laptop in desperate need to finish a level of your game. Lifting up the screen you look throughout the desktop trying to find the game's icon. You then notice a folder titled 'secret' what?? is this his secret diary. You felt like a teenage girl feeling giddy looking into a private matter and went ahead and clicked on it listing 'video1', 'video2', and so on. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, what videos could possibly be secret. The mouse turns into a hand pointing at 'video1' a new page pops up instantly fading into a sexual scene that made your heart drop. A man on top of a women who was spread eagle getting the eat out of her lifetime. The camera focuses on the women's pussy clearly intended for the male gaze but you couldn't stop watching how the man flicks his tongue. So invested in the movie you didn't notice your hand brushing up your thigh then to your cunt nor did you notice Soobin behind you watching in terror. But all embarrassment was pushed aside when he hears you groan at the new position on the screen, Soobin notes that he should try the same exact mating press on you.

Beomgyu

"Uhhh yes, shit" Beomgyu hears you while walking past your bedroom door. He smirks thinking of what fun you must be having. Wait, you're having fun? With someone else? His mouth turns downward, guilt building up in his stomach from the curiosity consuming him. His hand slowly turns the door knob cracking the door open. Who can possibly be with you right now when it should be him. Like a brick hitting his head, he instantly felt dizzy seeing your pretty legs wide open and your dainty little fingers caressing, circling your clit along with your very wet folds. Drooling, hunger rushed through his body then into his dick. At least you weren’t giving yourself to someone else, "B-beomgyu s'good" shit now he has a choice to make, to watch or to join

Taehyun

Your boyfriend is gone on a tour with his band and you're at home feeling needy. You two call each other often no matter of the time difference. One night horniness takes over you, wearing nothing but Taehyun's favorite lacy panties you own to bed after a very steamy shower. A familiar tune lights up your ears looking over to see your phone showing Tae's face indicating he was calling. Quickly answering the call you lay down on the bed, grasping every syllable Taehyun speaks. You felt warm, happy to hear his voice, lost in the raspy tone you let your hand travel down to tease your free nipple then to the material covering your cunt. You hum to make it seem like you're listening. Fingers dipping into your wetness you imagine your boyfriend being with you, above you. Without your knowledge your lewd wet sound traveled through your speaker right into Tae's ears making the man smirk. Still humming and sighing through the phone answering to nothing but complete silence. "Are you touching yourself, love?" the man asks breaking the silence.

Huening Kai

You were feeling bad, really really bad for the way you're looking at the plushie Kai gave you. Kai noticed how much you adored the cute grey penguin every time you visited so he gave it to you. Overly thankful you cherished it, yes the plushie was cute but it smelt like Kai, the soft warm feeling it gave felt like Kai. Now you're horny and you want to tarnish its innocence. Ugh this is dirty and crud. Kneeling on the bed, knees far apart, your hand slides down to your already drenched cunt grinding against your hand. You groan at the electric feeling wanting more. Pleasure fills your stomach getting desperate you lean your head down on Kai's plushie. Breathing in the musky scent of Kai that still lingers your fingers fuck you from behind. "Hey, y/n I have a question-" Kai bursts through your door stopping in his tracks when he notices your ass out and fingers deep in your hole. What can a poor man do when he sees his crush in all her glory and face deep in his favorite penguin plushie? He watches...

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months ago

Text

Like a Stone 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Loki, Tony Stark (Professor AU)

Summary: your work as a TA is complicated by more than your advisor. (tall reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all.

‘Acceptable’. Not exceptional, acceptable. That word needles at you.

You knew if from your first meeting, from the fact that the professor would not even look at you, that this would be difficult. Nothing worth doing is easy. But why can’t it be?

You take a deep breath and let it out little by little. You make the suggested changes, although you would argue that some are unnecessary. Yet, you applied to be a TA as much for the learning experience as the extra money.

“You okay?” Olive asks as she looks up from a paper streaked with eraser marks.

“Fine,” you insist. “It’s early in the semester. I'm still getting back in the habit.”

“I know what you mean,” she says and cradles her chin again. She furrows her nose at the textbook.

“Need help?” You shift your laptop to the side.

“Prim, don’t tell me you can do physics too,” she sighs.

“My dad is a physicist,” she says. “I dabble.”

“Wow, but... what about you?”

“What about me? He told me to choose my major and I did.” You explain.

“Right, sorry. I only...”

“He wasn’t happy with my choice,” you shrug and reach for her textbook.

“Oh, whew, I got it,” Cerise interrupts as she drops into her chair, scraping it loudly as she does. “Cider for Primmy and a white hot choccy for my Oli!”

“Can you yell a bit louder?” You ask as you look around.

“Sorry, sorry,” Cerise says and lowers her volume. “I just got a bit lost and I left my phone so...”

“Thank you,” you accept the cup, “it’s appreciated. I’ll help you with that Norse once me and Olive get through this formula.”

“Oh, Prim, I can figure it out,” Olive insists.

You look at her. You don’t want to push. She probably can do it herself. It must be your new gig. You taught your first lesson and now you think you know it all.

“Here,” you set down the physics book and gesture to Cerise.

She digs around in her bag and pulls out the bright orange Norse grammar book. You look it over. It’s brand new but the same edition you used.

“Cerise, do you still have the receipt?” You ask.

“I just bought it today, yeah,” she answers.

“Take it back. You can use mine. I’ll have father Fedex it overnight.”

“Oh, but... okay, thanks.”

“Not at all,” you flip through the pages, “you have your notes?”

You take out your first-year binder and spread it out on the table. Compared to Cerise’ notes, it’s immaculate. You want to help her but you also can’t do everything for her. She’s smart in her own right, people just underestimate her.

You remember the first lesson pretty well. As you go through the week’s vocabulary list, it gets easier. Cerise nods along and rewrites her note. You notice how closely she bends over the table though. She seems a little less stressed at the end.

You sit up and rub your neck as you tilt your head one way then the other. You have a horrible habit of hunching at these tables. You push your fingertips into your muscles and hold back a yawn.

“How about you, Olive? Did you figure it out?” You ask.

“I think...” she answers but you don’t hear her full response.

A tingle ripple flows over you as your eyes are caught by another pair. It’s strange. You were sure that hovering sensation was nothing. You ignored it for the Norse translation but now you’re assured of that smattering paranoia.

It’s that man. The one you’d run in your first day. With his gross leer and his grosser words. You don’t hide your derision as you frown. He seems amused as he smirks and winks. Does he recognise you or is he just a sleaze to every woman on campus?

“Can you check my work?” Olive nudges you with corner of her notebook, jarring you back to the table.

“Yes,” you answer abruptly and take the book.

You bend your head and look over the numbers. Hm. She had it but then she missed one step.

“Right here,” you put the book down flat and point with your sharp nail.

She reads it over and clucks, “I knew it...”

You slide the book over and she takes it. You peek back to where that man stood. He’s gone. You roll your eyes and go back to your revisions.

A new email pops into the corner of your screen. It’s one of those dozen emails the college sends every week about a new conference or event. You can check it after.

Nope. Another email. This one alerts you. Doctor Laufeyson. You tap the notification. It’s a forward of the last campus email.

‘To attend.’

That’s it. The only message. For a man with a doctorate, he does not expand very much on his points. Well, you guess you understood exactly what he means. You’ll mark your calendar and RSVP-- $150 attendance fee? And it’s out of town.

You rub the side of your nose and respond to his email to confirm that you understand.

“Prim?” Olive utters.

“Headache,” you tear your hand away from your face. It isn’t a lie. There’s a pinch right above your eyebrow. Usually that waits until midterms to come around.

“Sorry, guys, I gotta go,” Olive checks her phone. “I have a group assignment in my photography class.”

“Group work. Lovely,” you remark.

“Oh, you know, I have to grab something to eat before I head back to my dorm,” Cerise says. “I still haven’t gone shopping.”

“Right, guess I’ll stay and finish. Have a good night, you two,” you drag your fingertips around the mousepad.

“Well, I can stay,” Cerise offers.

“No, I gotta focus,” you insist. “Really, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sounds good,” Olive says.

They leave together and you’re thankful for the solace. You work best alone and yet, those two keep you from going completely over the edge. Before them, you would’ve locked yourself in your room and not come out.

“Is that the prickly one they call Primrose?” The voice crawls up your neck as a body slides into Cerise’ empty seat.

You glance up at the man with the silver temples and dark brown eyes. Your brows arch in disappointment and agitation. He’s a bit old to be bothering you. Wait, how did he know your name?

“You are Laufeyson’s new pet,” he says. “Good luck with that. Shoulda guessed what put that stick up your ass.”

“Excuse me?” You blink.

“Ah, trust me. I get it. He’s a fucking treat but if you need to take the edge off, I got a few tricks,” he leans forward and smirks.

“I don’t know who you are and I prefer that,” you say crisply.

“Professor Stark,” he answers as if you asked. “Your dream man.”

You purse your lips and lower your eyes back to your laptop. You start typing as you do your best to ignore his silhouette on the other side of the screen. He chuckles and hums.

“Oh, baby, this will be fun,” he slaps his hands on the table and stands. “Took me nothing to get your name, I can figure out the rest.”

#loki #tony stark #dark loki #dark!loki #dark tony stark #dark!tony stark #tony stark x reader #loki x reader #series #drabble #au #professor au #mcu #marvel #iron man #avengers #like a stone

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solarpunkbusiness · 8 months ago

Text

“Under this bill, when an item is broken, it could be a cellphone like this, a dishwasher, a washing machine, or a laptop, Coloradans will have the information they need to repair their own equipment or use the repair provider of their own choice,”

This builds on Colorado’s right-to-repair laws that were already introduced for agricultural equipment and powered wheelchairs, extending similar protections to almost any consumer electronic device with a chip.

Like Oregon’s right-to-repair law, Colorado’s HB24-1121 explicitly prohibits electronics manufacturers from using “parts pairing” to prevent replacement components from working unless approved by company software.

Device manufacturers have until January 1st, 2026, to comply

#solarpunk #solarpunk business models #solarpunk business #startup #solar punk #right to repair #repair #business opportunities #colorado #new law

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scoonsalicious · 10 months ago

Text

Unwanted: Chapter 13, Uncomfortable - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Sadness, realizations.

Word Count: 633

Previously On...: A phone call in the middle of the night sends Bucky to Jade's side at the med bay to help her through a "panic attack," which you're sure she's faking. You warn Bucky that if he keeps going to her, you might not be willing to take him back.

A/N: I didn't realize some of these parts were so short. They were difficult to write, so they took a lot of time, and therefore seemed longer. I feel like I'm drawing out the inevitable, and I probably am. I'm sorry!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @sashaisready @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @doublejeon @pattiemac1

When you woke up a few hours later, Bucky wasn’t back. You checked your phone. It was well past the time you’d planned on leaving to go Upstate, not that you were surprised. He’d text you, apologizing, telling you that Jade was too emotionally distraught to be left alone for the time being, but he promised to be back soon, and you’d still make your trip. You knew the promise was hollow. You didn’t believe he was sleeping with her, not really, but the situation was becoming untenable. You’d always said you would never try to control who he could or couldn’t be friends with, but you began to wonder if it was time for an ultimatum. The idea of imposing one sat poorly with you; it wasn’t the kind of girlfriend you wanted to be, but you felt he was leaving you no choice anymore. Every boundary you had asked him to keep with her, she’d somehow find a way to push him past.

He wasn’t blameless in the situation, you knew that. You knew he loved you, wanted to be with you, but how many chances could you give him to put you first, only to have him fail you? He wasn’t doing it on purpose; he was a genuinely good person who saw someone who had suffered as he had, and who wanted to provide support in a way that had been denied to him, but he was doing it at the expense of your relationship, your heart, your fucking sanity. He was taking you for granted, assuming that you’d always forgive him. And why wouldn’t he? You’d done it each and every time before.

You got up and got dressed, trying to find a use for your time so that you weren’t incessantly staring at the clock, waiting for Bucky to finally decide to make time for you. You suddenly remembered the request that Sam had made of you the night before– that you check the Tower’s systems to see if Jade had attempted to access anything that might set up red flags.

Grabbing your laptop, you made your way to the kitchen to grab a bagel and glass of juice before curling up on a chaise lounge in the common room and began working. It was going to be a time consuming task; the Tower’s systems were massive, but you’d built a good portion of them yourself, so it was a lot like wandering the forest in your own backyard.

Hours later, you were rubbing your eyes, regretting that you had left your glasses in your room. The sun was low in the sky, hovering just above the city skyline. Standing up to stretch, you cracked your neck and lower back before shooting off a text to Sam.

>>Just ran a check of the Tower systems for Jade’s footprint.

Ole Sammy: And???? Don’t leave me hangin in suspense, Baby Girl!

>> And, nothing screaming ENEMY AGENT.

>> She accessed Bucky’s unlocked files.

>> Like, a lot.

Ole Sammy: Creepy, but not surprising.

>> No, considering she’s fucking obsessed with him.

Ole Sammy: Unless…

>> Unless what, Samuel?

Ole Sammy: Nothing. Just a thought. Probably nothing. Don’t worry about it.

>> Stop being cryptic. Tell me.

Ole Sammy: Not unless I have proof to back it up. I don’t want to make accusations without evidence. Bitch’s scary AF. Besides, she could kick my ass.

>> Pretty sure I could kick your ass.

Ole Sammy: Only if I didn’t have my wings!

>> Not the flex you think it is.

Ole Sammy: How’s Upstate?

>> Wouldn’t know. Jade had a ‘panic attack’ in the night and has needed Bucky by her side ever since.

Ole Sammy: That dumb ass mother fucker! How much longer you gonna put up with this shit, Baby Girl?

>> I’ll talk to you later, Sam.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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shittysawtraps · 7 months ago

Text

Hello ex Destiny player,

In front of you is a laptop with several tabs open on videos and posts about the latest Destiny 2 expansion, said to be the culmination of of everything that's happened in the game so far.

If you engage with this content you will be consumed by nostalgia and lose a considerable amount of time and money trying to jump back into the game, after it has changed so much, after you missed so much of it.

If you do not engage you will still be consumed by nostalgia, alongside regret for not sticking with it to the end, even after all the cumulative weeks you spent playing.

You shied away from engaging with the community around your hobby, leaving you without anyone to enjoy it with, this thing that shaped your formative years, either in the real world or in the game itself. What will you do now that the game appears to be ending? You will feel bad no matter what, but what flavour of bad will it be? The choice is yours.

#shitty saw traps #submission

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back2bluesidex · 28 days ago

Text

To Be Popular - JJK [Chapter 1]

Pairing: Social Media Influencer! Jungkook X Marketing Manager! Reader ft. Yoongi

Summary:

Theme: Strangers to lovers au, fake dating au, kind of enemies to lover au, angst, smut, fluff.

Full Series Word Count: 26k

Chapter word count: 5.8k+

Warnings: tiny flirting, argument, that's all.

Masterlist | Patreon (For access to the complete series)

Taglist requests are open.

Minors, I am not responsible for what you consume online. So, act more rationally and stay away.

Chapter index: -

Or read the full series right away on Patreon!!

Thanks to the every possible gods out there, you are capable of keeping your poker face even when your insides are burning with rage.

Like right now.

First of all you landed in a proposition with one of the people you don’t even like, that too, with the most insufferable one in question.

Secondly, your superiors are treating him as if he has won a gold medal or something.

Min Yoongi - the man who is known for his nonchalance and quiet wisdom, can’t seemingly stop giving his gummy smile to this guy, Jeon Jungkook.

Mrs. Lee, who is probably double the age of the guy, is ogling him as if it's a zombie apocalypse and she hasn’t seen another male for thirty years or so.

When they both turn to you, you realize they are probably waiting for you to react the same way as them.

Too bad, you are not even the least bit amused.

After greeting both of the superiors, Jeon Jungkook looks at you - with those big ass googly eyes. A kind smile plays on his lips.

He extends his hand with a soft “nice to meet you.”

Well. definitely not the same. You scream internally but you compose yourself and return his smile, somewhat half-assed, as you wrap your small hand around his big veiny ones (the same hand that does those dirty deeds with others of his stature).

“Nice to meet you too.” you murmur only because Yoongi is giving you those eyes you absolutely love and hate at the same time.

Yoongi gestures to Jungkook to take the seat, “So, Mr. Jeon. I assume you have gone through our proposal already?”

“Umm.. yeah. My manager did go through your proposal and briefed me.” Jeon Jungkook says with a voice that doesn’t match that gruff, breathy one from the video.

Why the fuck do I keep thinking of the video? You inhale a long breath.

“Okay so.. Is there any question in your mind? Or do you want me to go through it all once again?” Yoongi adds good naturedly.

“Umm no actually. I came here to decline your offer.” Jungkook drops the bomb. If you are low-key happy then you don’t let it show on your face.

“W-what? Why? Is there any part of the offer that is not up to your liking? We can revise it anytime you want.” Mrs. Lee butts in.

“Uh. no not that. I personally don’t like to use the devices that your company manufactures. All of your laptops are so bulky, the chassis is always too old-fashioned. It’s not something Jeon Jungkook would use, you know what I mean?” Jungkook reasons smugly, as he leans on the backrest of his chair and crosses his legs.

You hear blood rushing to your brain and before any of your superiors can say anything you start speaking, “oh really? Must be tough to carry our laptops to a pornset or something, huh?”

You see Jungkook’s eyes going comically wide as he tries to register what you have just said.

“What? What are you talking about?” he semi-screams. His attention is now trained only and only on you.

“You know very well what I am talking about, Mr. Jeon.” you lean on the table just as smugly. Under the table Yoongi kicks on your shin but you dodge his attack at the right time.

Jungkook laughs. A big, thunderous laugh, “I don’t see it being any of your business to question what I do in my free time, is it?”

You smirk. If he thought you are going to back off that easily, he was wrong, “it definitely is not. But the fact that we chose to offer you this endorsement deal despite your current public reputation, tells a lot about our dedication towards charity.”

“Oh.. so this is a charity huh?” Jungkook narrows his eyes at you, “sorry to tell you but Jeon Jungkook doesn’t need any charity.”

With that Jungkook stands up and gales at you for one last time before he storms out of the room.

Yoongi slams his head directly on the table making you wince at the loud thud.

“Y/N! What do you think you did?” Mrs. Lee screams in horror.

“What?” you shrug in nonchalance, “he was going to say no anyway.”

“Y/N” Yoongi finally says, probably after struggling not to punch himself in the face for inviting you to the meeting, “we could have negotiated if you chose to stay silent.”

“But I only said what’s true. This collaboration could have saved his face. He was the one who chose to be an ass- I mean, inconsiderate.” you argue.

“Oh really? Then why don’t you show him what’s right?” Yoongi says in a sugary voice, one that’s not really good news.

“What do you mean?” you question, suspicion landing on your brain.

“You need to bring him back if you love the year-end appraisal or you can kiss your promotion goodbye.” he says in a collected voice.

“What? Yoongi! You can’t do this!” you stand from your seat, and Yoongi only smirks at you.

“Oh I definitely can. I can also submit a formal complaint against you calming that you have messed up an important deal. Do you want that?”

You stay silent, questioning your life choices, your career choices. Cursing at the every god above for making you a human when you could have been a worm.

No job, no money issues, no Min Yoongi, no Jeon Jungkook - only soil and dirt.

You sit on the chair again, cover your face with both of your hands and curse “fuck everyone”.

Your eyes zero on your phone this time. The insta handle is burning too bright for the darkness of your room. Honestly, tapping the name is currently hurting your pride.

But what can you even do - you are a corporate slave after all. And the crush you have on your direct superior, prevents you from being rebellious.

But more than just that - you know you were wrong.

Your hate towards the social media influencers clan is pretty much ridiculous and apparently has no reason.

Is it due to your underlying insecurity? Is it because you believe you are inferior to them? While they make hundreds of dollars per hour, you make a dime?

You probably hate Jeon Jungkook because he is the same age of yours and yet has everything you don’t? - like an amazing sex life.

As you tap on the story, it takes you into a video with all colors of gleaming lights. Clearly a club. Loud music blares through your phone speaker, almost paralyzing your ears.

You can’t see Jeon Jungkook on the screen, obviously because he is the one recording the video. But you can hear him whooing in the background. There are some girls around him for obvious reasons.

Suddenly you feel jealous of him again.

He is of your age and he is enjoying a night out at a posh club while you are on your bed, with your ugly pajamas on and you can’t go out because you have work tomorrow.

As soon as the word “work” registers in your mind, you remember you have been tasked with bringing Jungkook back.

You look at the screen again. He has added the location, which means you can find the club, find him and apologize (oh god no!) and beg him for another meeting.

Yes. That's a nice plan. You can then mourn for your dead self-respect with a bucket full of ice-cream.

You have picked the shortest possible dress you own.

It’s a shimmery black bodycon that reaches your mid-thigh. The noodle strap of the bodycon dress gives a tempting view of your collar-bone and cleavage.

You have let your hair lose - you look the best like this. A touch of makeup and you are all ready.

You know you are attractive but will that be enough for the bouncers to let you inside that posh club? You pray it’s enough.

When the taxi drops you in front of the well-known club in Gangnam, you spot the line. And thankfully, the queue is not at all terrible.

Since the clock hasn’t hit 10:00 pm yet, the entry is free.

When you reach in front of the bouncers, they give you a once-over, then look at each other. Your hands feel clammy because they have rejected almost everyone before you. If you are not wrong then only two of the visitors were let in.

But then one of them brought the stamp out and held it in front of your face. You gave him your wrist with a squeal of joy.

You let yourself go blind and deaf with the glaring lights and loud music. Wherever you look, you see people attached to people. Some are dancing, some are drinking, some are making out, some are just standing and talking with drinks in their hands.

You don’t think you have seen this amount of strangers all year.

You will admit - you feel alive.

But no! No Y/N! You are here with a motive, you can��t let yourself be distracted!

In the story, Jungkook seemed to be close to the bar island. Even though that was more than an hour ago, you still start looking for the bar island.

“Why are there so many bars?” you mumble to yourself as you scan the entire floor. There are at least four bars here, there must be more on the upper floor.

You start feeling helpless at once. All these strangers around you, wrapped in wealth, some giving you long looks - trigger your social anxiety.

Bad decision. It’s a bad decision. You should probably just run away.

But when you are about to take an u-turn, you see him.

You see Jeon Jungkook on the dance floor, grinding on a red-headed pretty looking girl.

He looks - like a fucking wet dream.

A black baggy jeans, a black t-shirt, some bulky golden chains, his dark hair gleams under the lights. His lip ring shines directly on your eyes and you snap back.

Great. Now that you have found him.. You can proceed with your plan - which is to beg him.

Without a second thought, you start stepping on the dance floor.

There are not a lot of people, so you easily get past everyone and stand there behind him.

Your eyes drop on his ass, then his hands, his veins and you question your life choices.

Somebody just crashes on you making you lurch forward.

Your body slams against Jungkook’s back. You are about to apologize when he reaches behind with his hand and grabs your side. He grinds his ass on you without even looking at your face.

You feel nauseous. This is the second time you are meeting him and the proximity is very scandalous.

Placing your hand on top of his, you break free from his hold.

“Jeon Jungkook, can I please talk to you for a moment?” you scream in his ears.

He doesn’t stop moving, but you know he has heard you.

Jungkook slowly moves on his feet while vibing and then turns to face you.

His mischievous eyes bore into yours as he takes you in slowly. He shamelessly eyes your cleavage then looks back up your face.

“What?” he screams over the music.

“Not here. Can we go somewhere quiet?”

He smirks at you, “oh? Already? Wait- have I seen you before?”

Your blood turns cold, “no. I mean yeah. Actually-”

“You- that obnoxious employee from Techtonic? Right?” his eyes go wide.

“Obnoxious? I am obnoxious? Then what are y-” you inhale, “Yes. I am Y/N. You are right. I am from Techtonic. Can I please have a word with you?”

“No? Why would I spare my precious time on you? So that you can insult me again?” he frowns at your figure before starting to walk away.

You grab onto his hand, “Please. I am here to apologize. I promise.”

He looks back, takes a look at the place you are touching him and then looks at you, “if I give you a chance… What will you give me in return?” Jungkook challenges.

What in the world did you get yourself into?

You don’t have a single drop of alcohol in your veins.

I repeat - you don’t have a single drop of alcohol in your veins then what is making you feel so lightheaded?

If it’s the spicy citrusy smell that Jeon Jungkook’s emitting then you won’t admit it even if you end up dying.

“Tell me, Y/N. What will I get if I give you another chance?” he challenges again. This time his tongue pokes out of that perfectly small round mouth and plays with the glinting lip ring.

You don’t understand the science of hearing him clearly despite the sound of loud music and the loud beating of your heart.

“I- anything. Anything you ask for.” you choke out, uncertainty lacing your voice.

“Anything I ask for?” Jungkook comes impossibly close to your body.

You can see long fingers with even longer nails circling around his torso. The red-headed girl is clinged around him.

“If- If I can afford that.” you choke out again.

“Oh.. you definitely can.” he smirks like a devil. All the smug pride drains from your body at the thought of what he might be asking from you.

“Come with me.” Jungkook whispers briefly as he takes your hand and guides you through the crowd towards the upper floor.

The piece of skin, where his fingers are holding your wrist - burns.

You are ashamed, nervous, afraid - all in all you want to die.

Just a week ago you were scoffing at your laptop watching this guy make fame out of a porn video and now he is leading you god knows where to do god knows what.

Before you could take in your surroundings, Jungkook slams you on the nearest wall. He wastes no time in locking you between his arms.

“You really came here only to convince me? You had no other intention, huh?” He asks with the lowest possible voice. A shiver runs down through the path of your spine.

“No. What intention would I even have? I fucked things up at the meeting so my superiors are making me clean the mess.” Your voice comes out firmer than what you thought you could manage.

“Oh? Really? But I think there is something else to it.” Jungkook comes closer to your body. His chest touches yours. You take a sharp inhale but keep the eye-contact intact.

Jungkook’s eyes dip down to your chest again as he continues, “you want what you watched in that video, don’t you?” he wets his lips once those vile words come out of his mouth.

Your jaw hits the floor almost, “what the fuck? What makes you think I want you?”

Jungkook invades whatever was left off of your personal space and whispers right into your ear, “If you accept it nicely, tell me the truth whether you got turned on or not, I will give your company a chance.”

You gulp at his offer.

If you say you were completely unaffected after watching him fucking his partner so well, then it will be a lie for sure.

So… if you swallow your pride and tell him that he indeed had some kind of effect on you - he will be up for another meeting?

“And what if I tell you the truth?” you question, looking deep into his chocolate eyes. All you see there is mirth.

“I will schedule another meeting with your company. But I will be declining you all again.” Jungkook adds nonchalantly.

You scoff at that, pushing him away and making some space between your bodies, “so you are just going to use my confession and insult me in my workplace?”

“Oooohhhh… You are not dumb, I see?” he muses, stumbling back from your body.

“Wh-what? Dumb? You thought I am dumb? Mind you, Jeon Jungkook, I get paid for doing actual work and not because I keep hollering at a dumb computer screen in front of camera.” anger flares through every vein in your body.

“And yet you came here to beg me?” he shrugs smugly.

“You know what? Fuck you and your stupid followers who feed your stupid ego!” screaming at his face, you take steps away, stomping on the floor even if your heels are killing you already.

This was a bad idea. Indeed a bad idea.

You don’t get paid for dealing with these scumbags. So it’s not your responsibility. It’s better to have your appraisal compromised than falling in the trap of Jeon Jungkook.

You imagine Jungkook’s face in the place of the ice cream tub as you stab your fork in it with as much fierceness as you could find in yourself.

Yes, you are eating ice-cream with a fork, so that you can imagine Jungkook’s face and stab in it.

“Fucking nutjob! What do you even think of yourself!” stab stab stab “Karma will hit you back very soon! You fucking asshole!” stab stab stab.

As if granting your prayers, the cosmos sends a notification to your device. You take the phone to see Yoongi's instagram handle that has sent you a text.

You start blushing instantly.

“Is this the universe’s way of making up for today’s trashy encounter?” you murmur to yourself as you open his text.

It’s a link so maybe it’s one of those cat videos he sends you the links of.

As you tap on the link, it takes to a post that has been made just an hour ago. The post - a video, containing proofs of Kim Doona (the influencer Jungkook fucked) being a high school bully. The video has texts sent by Doona to the victim, threatening her not to reveal anything.

Looks like Karma mistook the address. It should have been Jeon Jungkook!

You go to the comments.

All of their followers are going crazy, it’s just the same shit in different sentences. So you scroll past it all.

But there are two comments that catch your eye, actually one comment and its reply.

Commenter: Can’t believe Jeon Jungkook chose her out of everyone? A class bully? Really Jeon? You could do better.

Reply 1: What are you even saying? Jungkook probably didn’t even know and mind you, none of them confirmed if they were together or not. Reply 2: but girl, they f*cked on camera! Reply 3: How does that confirm their relationship? Reply 4: Jeon Jungkook has a girlfriend, I caught them at the club just a few hours ago. The proof is in my story.

Eh? Kim Doona isn’t his girlfriend? That was a rumor? He has another girlfriend who was with him at the club?

But you were at the club too, you should have seen them. Is it that red-head girl?

All of these questions swirl inside your head as you tap on the person’s story.

The video is taken amid a mass of bodies, trying to be discreet, but you can recognize Jeon Jungkook, leading a woman through the crowd.

Your heart stops beating for a moment when you realize it’s you. Your face is not visible properly, curtained by your hair, and you are thankful for that.

The video continues as Jungkook takes you towards the quiet corner. The person, who’s recording, moves too for getting a clearer view.

Now he is hiding behind the end of the wall that Jungkook had pressed you on. The video shows how he had towered you in, whispered in your ear and smirked at you. But then it gets cut right before you push him away!

“Fuck! I am not his girlfriend! Are you people blind? How do we look like a couple?!” you scream at your phone.

You decide you have had enough humiliation today. Hence, putting your phone in charge and traveling towards dreamland is a better idea.

This fiasco may die down by the morning. People will definitely defy the girlfriend theory because you two don’t look like a couple. And your face wasn’t even properly visible in the video. So yeah let sleep solve your problems.

Except - nothing solves.

When you wake up and take your phone out of charge, you grasp so hard that your phone slips from your hold and lands on the bed with a thud.

You have a thousand new follow requests on your instagram account. There are a ton of texts from various people in Ktalk and most of them have sent you insta links.

You open your younger sister’s text. She has sent everything in caps:

Y/N!!!!!!!! WHAT IS THIS??? [Link] YOU DIDN’T TELL ME YOU ARE DATING JEON JUNGKOOK????????

You type your reply:

Calm down. I am not dating that douchebag.

And then you tap on the link.

The post that the link takes you to, can rival your natal chart. It’s a detailed discussion of who you are, what’s your job, how do you look, where you have probably met Jungkook and your insta handel.

They have also attached a photo of Jungkook talking to you standing in the middle of the dance floor.

“Fuck fuck fuck!!!!” you curse and curse and curse.

Why are these people dragging you into this mess now? Why do they have to link you up with him? What the hell is even happening?

How are you even going to get to work today?

You shoot a quick text to Yoongi saying that you need a off-day today for obvious reasons. He sends one of those rofl emojis along with a thumbs up and you try not to feel down.

Yoongi doesn’t really understand what you feel for him? Does he?

You mean you are embroiled in a dating rumor with someone else and he seems to be just fine?

It’s just another confirmation that he doesn’t reciprocate your stupid crush on him.

Just when you are about to keep your phone aside and sleep some more, you get a call from an unknown number.

You don’t think much before receiving it.

“Hello, who’s this?” your voice is still groggy and your stomach rumbles as you speak on the phone.

A sweet cherry voice rings in your ear, “Hello, is this Y/N?”

“Yes. and you?”

“I am Kim Seokjin, Jeon Jungkook’s manager.”

The remnant of sleep flies away from your eyes as the man introduces himself. Why is Jeon Jungkook’s manager calling you this early in the morning!?

“How can I help you?” you voice, not trying to mask your confusion.

“Y/N, I assume you are aware of the situation, right? I mean the rumors?”

“I am aware and currently waiting for Mr. Jeon to decline the speculations.” you state as firmly as possible.

“About that… Why don’t we discuss before revealing anything?”

You frown at that.

“Discuss? What is there to discuss? You know well that I got to know Mr. Jeon via a professional connection, there is nothing else added to it, except for the fact that I visited the club to convince him for another meeting. And all of these things happened.”

“Exactly. I know it all and I also know that it’s not nice to be dragged into this mess but we, me and Jungkook, have a proposition to make. We can use this situation for both of our benefits for strictly business purposes.”

You sigh, “I don’t understand what you are trying to say Mr. Kim.”

“Yes. That is only natural. So, why don’t we meet face to face and get down on the details of the proposition? You can bring a friend or family if you are not comfortable meeting us alone. How does lunch sound?”

You think for a moment. You could probably take Jimin with you? Even though it’s monday, he will squeeze some time out of his schedule if you promise him free lunch.

“Okay. I will send you a confirmation text in this number.” you reply before cutting the call and directing your fingers towards Jimin’s text.

He has sent you a similar array of texts, so hopefully he won’t have too many questions to ask. He will understand once you give him a brief.

“I will tell you everything, can you meet me for lunch? I need to meet Jeon Jungkook and his manager for obvious reasons. Free lunch will be offered.”

His reply comes within a few moments,

“I’m in. I will pick you up just text me the time.”

You now type a text to Kim Seokjin confirming him the meeting as he texts you the time.

Just when you are about to go to Jimin’s inbox again, another unknown number sends you a text.

Annoyance flares through your veins as you open it. It says:

“See you soon, pornaddict.

– Jeon Jungkook.”

You groan at the choice of nick name, “Fuck you, Jeon!”

You don’t understand many things.

But currently, you don’t understand why this fine-as-fuck man is Jeon Jungkook’s manager slash assistant.

He goes by the name Kim Seokjin.

When he smiles at you, you melt. And to compose your flustered state you look at Jeon Jungkook - the (current) bane of your existence.

He gives you a lopsided smile that obviously is fake, leaning down against the sofa seat absorbing as much sunlight as possible.

You don’t give him any reaction.. Beside you, Jimin introduces himself to both of the men.

“Miss Y/N. Thank you so much for coming.” Seokjin says in a pleasant tone. His voice sounds like honey dripping from a silver spoon.

You nod, “Yeah. Alright, Mr. Kim, can I ask about the proposition you were talking about?”

“Call me seokjin. And sure, let’s get into the important details.” he pauses to give you a sweet smile then opens his ipad and scrolls through something. Jungkook, too, scrolls through his phone so unamusedly as if he has been dragged here without his consent.

“So, as you already know, the situation is out of hand now. We tried to take down the initial posts but the photos and videos spread like fire.” he speaks calmly. You nod along with him, Jimin too gives the older man his utmost attention.

“On the other hand, our Jungkookie has been interacting with people, who are currently embroiled in controversy.” noted: Seokjin called Jungkook as Jungkookie and he is talking about Doona.

You see Jungkook rolling his eyes.

“If it wasn’t not for you, then he would be dragged down in the mess too.” Seokjin continues, “I know it’s not nice to be the center of unwanted attention and it is already causing you damage but… we need your help. Jungkook needs your help.”

Jungkook makes a very unapproving sound from his seat.

“What help? How can I even help you guys?” you are now extremely confused. Why would Jeon Jungkook, out of all people, need your help?

“Date him.” Seokjin proposes.

“What?” you and Jimin scream in unison.

“Not for real. Calm down. I meant to say, if you pretend to be his girlfriend before the world, on social media, it will help Jungkookie in defying possible criticism and hatred.” Seokjin explains calmly.

However, you are anything but calm.

Whatever criticism Jeon Jungkook faces, it is simply his own problem. You have nothing to do with it. What is your benefit by being involved with him?

As if reading your mind Seokjin now states, “in return, Jungkookie will sign an exclusive deal with your company for not only one but any kind of future collaboration your company wants with him, that too, at a discounted price.” he winks at you.

Your jaw hits the floor.

“Hyung! What the fuck! Where is this discount coming from?” Jungkook finally opens his mouth for the first time.

“Cool. I’m in.” you reply in a heartbeat. Jimin clutches your wrist under the table.

“Y/N! Aren’t you even going to think?” he whisper-yells in your ear.

“There is nothing to think about. This is a very good deal, Jiminie. I will be hard-pressed to let such an opportunity go.” you whisper back.

“But-”

“I knew you would be an intelligent one” Seokjin cuts off your friend with a cherry tone, “I look forward to working with you” he extends his hand, you take in him with a shake. The shit-eating grin is lighting up your face.

Jungkook sits there throwing daggers at you with his eyes.

“It’s all because of you! You fucked things up!” Jungkook’s loud voice invades the serenity you were enjoying while waiting for Jimin to show up with his car.

You turn your head in astonishment and give him wide eyes, “My ears must have gone cold. You are saying thanks and I am hearing something completely different.”

“No! You are hearing it right, I said you fucked things up. Only if you didn’t show up at the club-”

“Then people would be dragging you down in twitter and instagram for fucking a school bully on camera.” you finish the sentence for him.

Jungkook clicks his tongue and the smirks, “you know what? I can see how bad you are down for me. Is this all a part of your plan?”

You smirk back, folding your hand in front of your chest, “FYI, your manager reached out to me to help you out. I am doing you a favor and you are returning it. Got it?”

“Again.. Again that nasty attitude of yours.” Jungkook steps towards you, “you know what… I kinda like it.”

He breathes directly on your face.

The puff of his breath lands on the apple of your cheeks making a blush creep up without your notice.

“Make sure you save my number, girlfriend. See you tomorrow.” he leans down and whispers the last words in your ears and then disappears inside the parking lot.

You stand there, catching your breath and questioning your decision for the first time since the proposition landed on your lap.

But wait? What does he mean by ‘see you tomorrow’?

Somebody must have pressed a replay button on the cassette of your life.

If not then it’s certainly a deja vu, because the scene that’s unfolding is exactly the same as what happened last week.

You are sitting inside the conference room, with Yoongi and Mrs. Lee and there is Jeon Jungkook sitting right across from you.

The only thing that seems changed today is his attitude - which is a little more tamed.

And oh… your clothes too.

“This is so nice of you to come forward and ask for a meeting after whatever happened last time.” Mrs. Lee speaks in a sickeningly sweet tone. You wanna roll your eyes but decide against it.

“Ah. no no. Miss Y/N is really competent at what she does. The credit goes to her. Even though things went south for the first time, we figured out that we actually are very compatible and working together will be beneficial for both of us. Right?” Jungkook directs his question towards you.

“Uh- yeah. Hahahaha. Yeah.” you honestly don’t know what to reply. He is obviously faking it and you need to fake it too but Yoongi is sitting right beside you and he is staring at you and you are on the verge of losing your sanity.

“I’m sorry if I am overstepping any boundaries but I can’t help being curious if the rumors are true?” Yoongi barges in. He looks at you and then Jungkook, expecting an answer or a reaction.

Before you can say something - something you don’t even know what, Jungkook decides to answer.

“Only time will tell.” he smiles at Yoongi.

The amount of weird glances you are receiving from your colleagues is astronomical.

For most of them it’s just eyeing you up and down and for some of the brave ones, it’s throwing impromptu comments like “oh, Y/N is a celeb now.”

You want to punch them on their faces.

Nevertheless, you don’t want a new trouble right when you manage to fight one crisis in exchange for your name and relationship status.

You scroll through company social media accounts and start planning for all the new content that’s going to drop as soon as Jungkook’s done with the photoshoot.

Your phone chimes with a notification. When take it in your hand to see it’s a text from the devil himself:

“In front of the parking lot. Come in five minutes.”

Your eyes close in frustration. You haven’t even stepped into the deal properly and he has started ordering you already.

But what can you even do, you dug your own grave after all.

It takes you seven minutes to reach the parking lot - obviously because you work on the sixteenth floor and the elevators don’t run on your will.

When you find Jungkook waiting for you at the mentioned location with his bike, you find him kind of intriguing.

It’s been long, embarrassingly long, since you have had a guy waiting for you. Even though you know it’s fake. You can turn blind eye for a moment and let yourself believe otherwise.

“You are late.” he says with a pout.

You lose your sanity only a little.

“Sorry. The elevator didn’t listen to me when I asked it to run fast.” you reply.

“Haha. very funny.” he replies animatedly then reaches for his backpack and plucks out a document folder.

“What is this?” you question naturally.

“The dating contract for our fake relationship.” he shrugs, extending the folder towards you, “Hyung asked you to go through it meticulously. You can add or reduce any term you don’t see fit. We will finalize it and announce our fake relationship officially once you are done. You have time till Friday.” he recites flatly, “also, you can’t tell anyone just yet. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever-”

“Y/N?” someone calls you and it’s not Jungkook.

You whip your head to see Yoongi is standing a few feets away inside the parking space with keys in his hand.

Your stomach feels funny at his unreadable expression.

And then you feel a pair or lips pressing down on your cheeks.

Jungkook kisses you before parting and saying, “Hasta la vista, baby”

You freeze at your stop. You can see Yoongi’s eyes narrowing on you. Jungkook hops on his bike and leaves within a moment.

You stand there, staring apologetically at the man you like and he sports an expression you can’t comprehend.

“So.. the rumors were true, huh?” Yoongi finally voices after what feels like an eternity.

“No- I-” also, you can’t tell anyone just yet. Got it? Jungkook’s words reel inside your head, “yes” you lie, crossing your fingers behind you.

“Congratulations” Yoongi greets before flashing his gummy smile at you and then leaving you there to look for his car.

“You really don’t care, do you?” you ask him. Even though you know he can’t hear you. There is a mixture of different emotions inside your gut and you are way too tired to name any of those.

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