#and he's rich!?! pay my student loans man

[mulloey]

hundred bands

student loans, a sugar daddy website, and johnny suh. three things you never thought would find you in quite this way.

part of my february festival

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words: 8.4k

warnings: bdsm dynamics - dom!johnny x sub!reader, degradation, slight humiliation, discussion of pet play & master/slave play, slight corruption, titles (daddy/sir), paddling, face slapping, subspace, brief moment of insecurity, face fucking etc

—

You wonder if this is how it usually starts; a broke college student, an overeager friend and a last resort.

It’s not like you wanted or planned this; your final year of university and your tuition fees were piling up by the hour; your loan had already run out and all your applications for more money had been shot down about as delicately as a war plane. You’re pretty certain you’re on the loan office’s blocked callers list now.

It was your friend’s suggestion. You already knew she had a sugar daddy—a man named Mark who she never let you meet and seemed way too young to be doing this but, based on the flashy clothes she’d started wearing recently, clearly had enough money for it. And contrary to your expectations of sugaring as she called it, he actually seemed very nice; she was constantly gushing about how well he treated her and he appeared extremely respectful and affectionate towards her on the phone calls you’d been privy to. So fuck it, you thought, and you signed up for the website she’d given you as soon as you were drunk enough to bring yourself to do it.

While this was undoubtedly a sex-focused service, she’d emphasised to you the classy nature of the site; no lewd usernames, no nude pictures of any kind; just a clothed photo that showed your figure, basic information about you, and the type of arrangement you were looking for.

PLEASE SELECT ONE:

Sugar daddy/sugar baby

Straight/gay/bisexual

Top/bottom/vers

Dominant/submissive/switch/vanilla

Your blush ran deeper as you made your way down the list, arranging yourself into categories that felt a little like being sold at auction. Sugar baby. Straight. Bottom.

At the final question, you hesitated—you thought about putting ‘vanilla’, a little afraid of what these rich, anonymous men might expect to be able to pay for, but the words of your best friend rang out in your head. “Be honest with what you want,” she’d told you. “Just because you’re doing this for money doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get any fun from it.”

She was right, as usual. If you were going to get fucked for money, then you at least deserved to fucked well; even so, you had to close your eyes in shame as you clicked the little box titled ‘submissive’. That was a side of you that had only ever existed in your fantasies.

The rest of your profile was simple; you almost backed out when they asked for your ID, not wanting to give yourself away, but visions of loan sharks and withheld diplomas squashed those doubts pretty quickly—you were going to do this. You were going to get some rich man to pay your tuition, and that was the end of it. You had no other choice.

To be fair to the site, it was pretty well and, considering what it was for, non-pervertedly designed. You were matched with partners based on your preferences, but no one could message you until you’d liked their profile. You spent a few minutes clicking through the profiles, haphazardly liking or disliking as you felt like it, until one made you pause.

The picture was of a man in a suit, cropped at the neck to conceal his identity; but you didn’t really need to see his face to know that this man… well. He was certainly an option. Just from that one picture, taken from below, sleeves rolled up and linen straining against his chest, you felt authority emanating through the screen. Yeah, this could work very well.

You clicked nervously on his profile, hoping not to find anything crazy or gross in his bio to turn you off of him, but it was, well. Normal. For this place at least.

Sugar daddy. Straight. Top. Dominant. A good start—perfectly aligned with you.

From his bio you found out he was almost 30–a decent bit older than you but not over the line; he worked in the entertainment industry, and he valued discretion. Likewise, you thought.

You clicked like without a much more consideration.

The message came through an hour later, just as you were sitting down for dinner; you couldn’t help but grin when you got the notification, opening it nervously.

Hey. Hope you don’t mind the intrusion, but you’re nearby and I’d be interested in getting to know you. Would that be ok?

At first you were a little taken aback by how… polite the message was. How normal. Given the nature of the site you were half-expecting something perverted and disturbing, but this man was taking you by surprise already.

You typed your reply with your bottom lip held painfully between your teeth.

Hi :) that sounds great! I’m free next weekend if you are?

Great. Saturday evening? I’ll take you for dinner, if you like?

Perfect.

The nine days between then and your first meeting pass surprisingly quickly; you keep in regular contact with your faceless friend, you both having agreed to keep things anonymous for now, and though neither of you dance around the reason you’re both here, you find it easy to have normal, friendly conversations with him too. You tell him about your degree, and he gives you small details about his life and work—a singer, he says. He offers nothing more and you don’t press; from the way he talks about it you get the sense he may be some level of well-known, and you don’t want to make him uncomfortable. You’ll find out who he is on Saturday anyway.

On Monday night, just as you’re finishing up an assignment, your phone lights up with a new notification. You have his KakaoTalk now; it’s easier and more inconspicuous than the site and feels a lot less intimidating. The cartoon kitten on his profile picture makes you giggle as you open the message.

Now that we know each other a little better, would you be down to talk more about what our arrangement would look like, if it went ahead?

Yeah, of course. What are you thinking?

Can I call you?

Your stomach tightens and your palms tense nervously; you’ve called him before, but as you quickly found out, his voice makes it very difficult to concentrate on what he’s actually saying. You’re not exactly sure why; maybe it’s the deep, masculine lilt to it, but it sets your nerves on edge—still, you imagine this would be a better conversation to have on the phone, so you type your agreement with shaking hands.

Almost instantly the call comes through; “Hello?” You say softly.

“Hey, honey.” His voice is warm and familiar but still intimidating and the pet name he’s been using the past few days doesn’t make it any easier to keep a clear head. “How you feeling?”

“M’ good,” you mumble and he chuckles softly.

”Great. Well, I suppose we’ll just jump into it, yeah?” You make a noise of agreement and he continues. “Your profile said you’re a submissive. Can you tell me a little about that?”

You blank a little, already feeling out of your depth. You never thought this was a conversation you’d be having with someone, let alone a near stranger. “About that?” you echo. “Like, in what regard?”

“Well, do you have experience in that area?” His voice has a slightly deeper edge now; it’s focused and a little stern—clearly this is something he takes extremely seriously. “Have you submitted to someone before?”

“Um.” Your mind flashes with images of your previous partners; the varying experiences you’d had them but none of it seems to fit what you feel like he’s asking. “Not really.”

He hums. “So, if I had to guess,” he says, “you’ve been choked a few times, maybe spanked a little bit, and I’m assuming at least one of your partners wanted you to call him daddy?”

You can’t help but flush; that’s… exactly accurate. “Yeah,” you mumble. “How’d you know?”

“When people say ‘not really’, that’s usually what they mean.” You hear the smile in his voice and you wonder how many people he’s had this conversation with. You also wonder why the thought makes you a little bit jealous.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I assume you’ve gathered by now that I’m looking for more than that?”

Your stomach turns and you nod; it’s silent for a moment until you realise he can’t actually see you and you mumble a reply, embarrassed.

He laughs a little, seeming to realise what you’ve done before continuing. “There’s a lot I want to do with you, but I’m not going to dump it on you all at once, so we’ll start with what you’ve done already, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You said you’ve been choked,” he said. “So you’re comfortable having things on your neck.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’d certainly choke you during sex, if you’re comfortable. But I might use my arms rather than my hands. And at some point, I’d like to put a collar on you. How does that sound?”

“Um.” Fucking fantastic, you want to say, but you’re too embarrassed and still determined to play it at least a little bit cool. “It sounds nice.”

“Good. The next thing we mentioned is spanking, correct?”

You know you’re blushing now, shifting uncomfortably in your seat and trying to relieve some of the pressure between your legs. Something about the way he speaks so calmly and professionally about these things is really doing it for you, apparently. “Yeah,” you breathe.

“If I had to make a guess on that, I’d say they slapped your ass a few times during sex. Maybe a little foreplay, too. Am I right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, again, I’d do that too, but it’d be more than that. If you become my sugar baby, you become my submissive as well, which means you’d submit to my rules and discipline. Ya follow?”

It’s not a massive shock; he’d mentioned BDSM before, and you weren’t surprised given his profile—but hearing it out loud, in that voice, is a different feeling. “Yeah, I follow,” you say. “So you’d punish me? How?”

“Well if we’re talking about spanking…” He pauses for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “I’ll give you an example. Say you broke a rule, like if you talked back to me or I caught you touching yourself when I’d told you not to, then I’d put you over my knee, pull your panties down and spank you til I feel like you’re sorry. How does that sound?”

“Oh.” There’s an undeniable pressure in your stomach and you try not to let the arousal seep into your voice. “That’s… wow.”

“Is that good or bad?” He asks. He’s laughing, but he sounds cautious too. It makes you feel safe, the way he’s genuinely concerned about your feelings on this; it’s the bare minimum, sure, but you expected worse from that website.

“Good,” you breathe. “Really good.”

“Oh?” He’s teasing now; you practically see the grin on his face despite the fact you don’t actually know what that face looks like. “Does someone want to be spanked?”

“I think… yeah.”

“That’s good,” he laughs. “I bet you’ll look really cute kicking and squirming over my lap. Don’t you think?”

“Hopefully,” you mumble.

“I’m sure. And the last thing we mentioned. You’ve called someone daddy before, you said. Did you like it?”

“Yeah.” You answer quickly; you figure there’s no point in shame now.

“I see.” He pauses again. “I usually prefer sir, but I’m not opposed to daddy, either.”

“Oh.”

“Speaking of.” There’s a playfulness to his voice now; a teasing lilt that makes you bite back a laugh. “You should get to bed, young lady. Why are you even up?”

“Assignments,” you say. “And what’s your excuse, sir?”

You hear the sharp intake of breath through the phone; the soft, strangled sound that dies in his throat and you feel a twinge of satisfaction. Yeah. I can play this game too.

He clears his throat, releasing an exasperated sigh and there’s a rustling sound before he speaks, voice dipping slightly. “My excuse,” he says, “is that I’ve nowhere to be tomorrow. Unlike a certain little brat.”

The final word is drawn out, teasing and warning at the same time and your chest tightens in excitement and a million other things. You don’t even know what this guy looks like, but fuck, he’s so good. You want to push his buttons and obey his every word simultaneously.

“True,” you mumble. “Okay, I’ll sleep.”

“Good girl.” The satisfied smile is audible in his voice. “See you Saturday, pretty.”

—

This man is gorgeous.

That’s your first thought when you see him Saturday evening; he’s waiting for you when your car pulls up, calling your name with a smile and wrapping an arm around your waist as he helps you out. He introduces himself as Johnny, and his voice sounds even better in person.

Your second thought follows not long after; you recognise him. You’d figured by now that he was probably some level of famous, but you weren’t interested enough in the whole idol culture to have recognised him from his voice alone; in fact it’s only when he tells you his name that you finally place him. You wait until you’re seated, in a private room you’d rather not know the cost of, before asking.

“I don’t wanna be too weird,” you say, “but you’re an idol, right?”

He laughs, nodding with a soft smile. “I am. Do you know me?”

“I’ve heard of you,” you mumble; you’re not sure why you’re so embarrassed to know who he is—that’s the whole point of celebrities, after all. You chuckle dryly, trying to ease the weight of the awkwardness you feel in your chest. “I recognised your face but I couldn’t figure out where I knew you from til you told me your name.”

“Ah.” His posture is relaxed, tone jovial but you see a surety and intensity in his eyes that makes you cower instinctively. “Heard any of my music?” He asks, and you can tell from his voice that he’s teasing you again.

“Maybe. I wouldn’t know.” You shrug. “I mean, I’m not really into that stuff but like, I’m obviously gonna look you up when I’m home now.”

“I figured,” he laughs. “Shoot me a text once you’ve decided I’m your favourite.”

“If I decide that,” you say, and he laughs louder. You feel yourself relaxing a little; his open, friendly demeanour could make anyone ease up and you can’t help but feel comfortable in his presence. Only his dark eyes, which scarcely leave you but to call over the waiter and order, keep you on edge.

You don’t know what any of the words on the menu mean, so you let him order for you—he seems to like that; choosing for you, making small, simple decisions on your behalf. You see it on his face.

As it turns out he’s very good at choosing, too; the beef dish they bring out is something your friend had told you about, when you’d mentioned coming to this restaurant and she realised she’d been there with her own sugar daddy. It tastes amazing and the champagne that flows with it is even better.

“Food good?” He asks with a smile.

“Yeah,” you say. “Is yours?”

“Perfect,” he says. The weight of his gaze on you is unavoidable and you twirl the spaghetti around your fork nervously, just wanting something to do to avoid his eyes.

“So, um.” You clear your throat, trying to think of something to fill the silence but nothing comes. Johnny watches you with a small smirk; all-knowing.

“Don’t be nervous,” he says finally. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

You hold back a laugh, biting your lip and he notices. “Well, I mean…”

“Yeah, okay, I am going to hurt you a bit.” He’s grinning, and you realise he chose his words intentionally; though whether to ease the tension or tighten it further you don’t know. “But I do want you to be comfortable with me.”

“Yeah. I am, I think.”

“Great. May I ask you something?”

You motion for him to speak and he smiles; you think you see the first hint of trepidation in his eyes before it quickly dims into the usual cool intensity.

“Obviously it hasn’t been long enough to make a firm decision,” he says, “but just so I have an idea, are you open to the idea of coming home with me tonight?”

You swallow; your stomach tightens at the proposition and the visions it provokes and your response is whispered like a scandalous secret. “Like… to play with you?”

“Yes,” he says. “It doesn’t have to mean the start of a dynamic, and we won’t have sex; just think of it as a taster session.”

That doesn’t seem so bad, you think. And he’s careful, not rushing you into a dynamic or even pressuring you at all; that’s a good sign, right? “So what— um. What would we do?”

“Depends on your behaviour.” He winks teasingly at you from behind the glass in his hand and your head is in overdrive with the images he’d given you on the phone a few days ago; of being choked and collared and spanked by those impossibly large hands resting so tantalisingly close to yours.

You clench your thighs, swallowing dryly. “Yeah. I’m… open to the idea.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

The evening passes surprisingly quickly; the tension in the air has all but dissipated, but for the subtle movements he makes every now and then just to see your reaction; a quirk of an eyebrow, a knowing smile, a perfectly timed touch that sends electricity rushing through your veins.

You know he’s toying with you, studying your natural responses to small hints of dominance so you react with similarly small, playful acts of submission in return; cowering under his gaze, bowing your head—allowing him the first taste of the control you may soon surrender completely to him.

“So,” he says, once the waiters have removed the last of your dessert plates. “Would you like to come home with me?”

—

Five million won lands in your bank account as you’re taking the elevator up to his apartment. You make a noise of shock, staring dumbfoundedly between him and the notification, but he says nothing; just smirks ever so slightly as he guides you out of the elevator with a hand on your lower back.

Johnny’s apartment is pretty much as you pictured it; everything a successful man on the cusp of his thirties would go for—black, white and grey themes, a large TV, low, atmospheric lighting and a stunning view of the city through the floor-to-ceiling windows that loom over you when you step inside. He removes your jacket for you, pausing to take in the outfit you’ve chosen once again before helping you remove your heels. He’s careful and gentlemanly, touches feather-light on your legs as he slides your shoes off. You’re not sure if the image of him on his knees in front of you like this contrasts or enhances the feeling of his dominance over you. You think it’s the latter, somehow.

When he stands up you see that without the few inches your heels provided you, he’s even more imposing—and in his own house, on his territory, you feel smaller than you ever have before.

“Come,” he smiles. He’s removed his suit jacket now, but the dress shirt, slacks and shoes are still on; the soles click against the floor as he guides you down the hallway by the hand.

You stop at the end of the hall, hovering outside a varnished wooden door. For a moment you stand there silently and his demeanour seems to shift a little; he stands a little taller and his face takes on a new solemnity as he looks you up and down. You feel like you’re being inspected, scrutinised; studied.

Your gaze flickers towards the door—is this where he does it? Where he… dominates people? Dominates you? Are you about to walk into a room full of whips and gags and contraptions you’ve never heard of?

“Hey.” Johnny’s voice is calm and soft and stops your spiraling in its tracks. His lips quirk in an amused smile. “I know what you’re thinking. It’s not a red room.”

“Oh.” You don’t know why you’re so embarrassed—anyone would have assumed that, given the circumstances; still, you avert your eyes awkwardly, face heating up. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says. “I’m not offended. It's reasonable to assume I’d have one. But it’s just my bedroom, nothing too scary.”

“Oh. So you don’t… um.”

“I don’t have a red room?” You nod a little ashamedly and he chuckles. “No. I don’t need one. D’you know why?”

“Why?”

A large hand clasps around your wrist, making you shiver. “Because if we do this, you don’t submit to a room. You submit to me. Wherever we are, whenever I tell you to.”

You flush. “Oh.”

“Mhm.” His voice drops, veins bulging against his neck and he cuts a more and more intimidating figure by the second. You’re so ready.

”Do you remember the conversation we had about safewords?”

Of course you do; it was the first one you had once the pleasantries were over. “Red for stop, yellow for slow, green for go.”

He makes a noise of satisfaction and there’s a ghost of a proud smile on his lips. “Excellent.”

You watch as his hand grasps the door handle, pushing it down but not opening it. He pauses for a moment, gaze flickering back to you and you tense, nerves multiplying by the minute.

“Couple things you should know,” he says. His voice is calm and collected and it makes your head rush. “First thing. When you play with me, you’re on your knees, on the floor. You don’t stand or walk or do anything I do because we’re not on the same level here. Understand?”

Your stomach flips, arousal gathering in your chest and your voice is strained when you squeak out a pathetic “Yes.”

“Good,” he says. He’s smiling knowingly, all too aware of the effect he’s having on you. “Second thing. It’s ‘yes, Sir.’”

Then the door is pushed open, and within a few seconds two things become abundantly clear; first, Johnny is true to his words—you don’t manage a single step inside his bedroom before you find yourself forced to your knees, kneeling with your head bowed beneath the pressure of his hand on the back of your neck. He holds you firmly in position but there’s little force behind his grip; there doesn’t need to be. He told you early on that he has no interest in subduing you or compelling you to submit—you’ll submit to him because you want to, and he’ll give you everything you need in return.

The second thing that becomes clear is that when Johnny said he didn’t have a red room, that was only technically the truth—because sure, it’s not a strictly-sex-only room, and it’s not red, but there’s absolutely no mistaking what happens here.

A glass cabinet displays an intimidating selection of toys; whips and paddles and dildos and things you couldn’t even begin to guess the use for; a bar is fixed to a lower portion of the ceiling, and the ropes hanging from it tell you he doesn’t use it for pull-ups; but most noticeably and unavoidably, there’s a large dog’s cage filled with blankets and soft pillows sitting directly at the end of his bed.

He catches your gaze lingering on the cage and laughs softly; the hand on your neck travels up to rest in your hair, caressing you gently and you hold your head exactly where he left it despite your desire to nuzzle into his touch. You have something to prove today, after all.

“You like my cage?” You hear the grin in his voice, feather-light touches tickling against your skin.

“Is it… for humans, sir?” The size of it makes the answer obvious but you need to hear it from him; the confirmation that this is really as batshit and delightfully insane as it seems.

He hums, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger. You feel his presence above you as he crouches down a little, voice dropping to just above a whisper. “It’s for very, very bad girls indeed,” he says. “But you’re not bad, are you, precious?”

“No, sir,” you mumble. “I’ll be good.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He stands back up, towering above you again before walking over to the bed. He takes a seat, staring at you for a moment before his he lifts his hand and beckons you towards him. “Come.”

You hesitate for a moment—are you really about to do this? Are you really going to crawl on your hands and knees towards this man whose face you’d never even seen before today?

Yeah. Apparently you are.

Your breathing stutters as you make the first movements; one hand in front of the other, then your leg, over and over until you’ve somehow made it, you’ve crawled across the room and settled on your knees at his feet. He looks elated.

For a moment, he says nothing; he stares you down with a calm, collected expression that screams control and you try desperately not to shrink under it. The first touch of his hand on your face is electric when he gently grips your jaw, stroking your skin with soft fingers. You feel—and are, to him at least—tiny.

“Sweet thing,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

You can’t help but mewl in response, every cell of your body reacting to him, nerves standing on their ends. It’s a completely new feeling and utterly overwhelming. You want it to last forever.

“Can I hit you, angel?” His voice is low, gentle, the opposite of the way his grip on you tightens with want.

You feel yourself throb, nodding dumbly. “Yes sir.”

He smiles for a moment before his face darkens; the impact of his palm against your cheek would be enough to knock you down were it not for his still firm grip on your jaw. You cry out at the sting, unable to stop yourself and he can’t help but smile. “So responsive,” he tuts. “I’m gonna love training you up.”

You bite your lip, holding back a grin. “I hope so, sir.”

“You know,” he says. “This is my favourite part of having a new sub. Figuring out what type they are.”

You pause. “Type, sir?”

He hums; a low, pleasing sound. “No two submissives are the same, but there are general categories you could fit most of them into. Some fit in all of them, in fact.”

“What are they?”

He tilts his head, eyes glinting and you see the way he settles further into his headspace, back straightening as he stares you down. Your lack of experience seems to do something to him—and that definitely does something to you.

“Well,” he says. He speaks slowly and carefully, every word chosen with thought. “You have your puppies. They like to be on their knees. They like to whine and bark. They like to hump.” His grip tightens on your chin, tilting your head upwards. His thumb pushes past your lips and into your mouth and you accept it greedily. “And if I told them to open their mouth for their master’s spit…” He parts your lips, pushing your mouth open; he hesitates for a moment, as though he’s waiting for you to object but you don’t; you just open wider. His lips twist into a smirk before you feel a wad of saliva land on your tongue. “They’d slack their jaw and swallow it like a good dog.”

He watches with a smile as you obey, letting the spit slide down your throat. Your head feels fuzzy and floaty and all the sensations in your body, from the feeling of the carpet against your shins to the arousal that twists painfully in your gut, feel distant and separate. The only thing that feels real and complete right now is Johnny.

“Seems you like pet play,” he chuckles. “I’ll have to get you some ears. A tail, too.” He strokes your cheek and you keen into his touch unconsciously. “Would you let me plug your ass with a little puppy tail, baby?”

“Yes sir.” The words are coming out on their own now, your body responding for you before your conscious can catch up. He smiles.

“You’d be a lovely kitten, too,” he says. “They’re not as much fun to play with as puppies, but they look oh so pretty in your lap. And sometimes it’s nice to have a pliant little thing that will let you use their holes without complaining.”

Oh, that does sound nice. You think you’d enjoy that sometimes, when you’re feeling softer and more fragile and just want to be cared for. And he’s so large and broad and warm that he’s practically custom made to have you in his lap. You’d fit perfectly and prettily and you sigh dreamily without realising. He laughs and you quickly regain yourself, blushing deeply.

“Sorry, sir,” you mumble. “Um. Were all your subs, like, pets?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve had a few slaves before as well,” he says. “They were lovely; obeyed me like it was second nature. Took all the pain and humiliation I inflicted on them and still wanted more. Almost made me rethink my policy on not drawing blood, but that’s not my sort of thing really; they took a whipping like nobody’s business though.”

You cower a little, gaze dropping downwards; this doesn’t seem like you. You’re more than happy to be hurt and humiliated by Johnny, but this just seems… too much. You’re not ready for that level of submission and you’re not even sure you want to be. You feel a faint pressure on your chest, a familiar feeling of having fallen short but you’re not sure why; you’re allowed to say no—when you signed up for the website you signed a contract which stated it explicitly, and Johnny himself has reiterated it to you multiple times. You don’t have to take everything he offers you and you don’t have to do or be or enjoy anything simply because he does.

So why does it feel like a shortcoming; like you’ve foundered and failed before you’ve ever started?

You’ve zoned out without realising, deep in thought; Johnny sees the gears turning in your head and clicks his tongue, nudging your jaw upwards again. His smile is warm and gentle when you finally meet his gaze and though his voice is still soft and patient, there’s a finality to it that wasn’t there before; a seriousness. “You don’t like the sound of that, that’s okay,” he assures you. “You should never, ever force yourself to do something just to please me, or to please anyone. Understand?”

“I understand, sir,” you whisper. The sternness in his voice tells you he’s not playing now; he needs you to know this and keep it with you.

“Good girl,” he praises. His voice lifts a little and you see the moment he changes tack, back to toying with you like he was before. “God, you’re pretty. I don’t think I could hurt a little thing like you that way even if you did want it.”

You whine without realising it; your mind is a complete fog now, control and awareness slipping away by the second but you manage to string the few words that come to you into a slow, stuttered sentence. “Are those, um… that’s all of it, sir?”

His laugh is fond and a little condescending, like you’ve said something adorably stupid. You feel warm. “Those are just some typical ones,” he says. “Ones I’ve played with before. You don’t have to assign yourself to any of them, it just helps me to see what you do and don’t like the sound of.“

“Right.”

“You seem to like being a puppy,” he continues. There’s a teasing edge to his voice and you hold back another whine. “I think you’d like being a kitten sometimes, too. Turning your brain off and just letting daddy use you, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

Your body reacts of its own accord to the title; you shudder in his hold, slumping slightly as a soft moan escapes your lips and it makes him laugh softly, fondly. “You really like the whole daddy thing, huh?”

You nod, a little embarrassed—it’s not even that you’re particularly into it on your own, in fact you only called your ex that because he wanted you to. Sure, you enjoyed it and it certainly made him fuck you harder and deeper and better, but you’ve never explored it of your own volition. You’ve never felt the need to.

But something about the way it sounds so sweet and natural on Johnny’s lips, like he’s acknowledging a reality rather than acting out a fantasy, makes it all seem so right—and so exciting. He certainly suits the name; so big and so strong and in complete control of you. Yeah, you’re definitely going to need to try this out.

You see in his face that his own thoughts are similar; his eyes are fogged with arousal and there’s a thick tension in his neck as he swallows. “You definitely make it work.” His hand moves from your jaw to cup your cheek and he lets you nuzzle against it greedily, a smile twitching on his lips. “Cute. God, there’s so much I could do to you.”

“Do it,” you breathe. “Please, sir.”

“Such good manners,” he croons. “You need it so bad, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you whine. You don’t even know what ‘it’ is, but you know he’s right; you’re desperate, feverish for it. For anything, as long as it comes from him.

“Ask me nicely,” he whispers. “Ask me for what you want, baby, and I’ll give it to you.”

“You,” you say. “You, sir.”

In a moment of desperation—or stupidity, perhaps—you reach for him, hands curling into the material of his shirt and grazing against what feels like a full set of abs beneath it. Wrong move.

He lifts you by the hair, dragging you to your feet and throwing you over his knee. Your heart pounds with expectation but he doesn’t hit you as you expect him to; instead he flips you over so you’re lying on your back, head resting on the sheets; your hair falls prettily around your face and you make the perfect picture of innocence. You want him to ruin it.

The feeling of his hand on your throat is electric; the other roams across your torso, groping your tits with a detached interest. He’s in no hurry, after all.

“Who told you to touch me, huh?” His words are growled, arousal filled as he grabs one of your tits and squeezes hard enough to make you whimper. “Here I thought you were gonna be good for me.”

“I am,” you whine. “Sir, I’m sorry. I’ll be good, I will.”

He’s silent for a moment, staring you down like he’s figuring out whether he believes you before sitting you up so you’re perched on his knee. He grabs your wrists and moves them behind you, folded over each other and resting against your lower back. “Keep those there,” he says. “This is your first lesson. You don’t touch what’s not yours and you don’t move a muscle without my permission. Understand?”

You nod dumbly and he slaps your face just this side of painfully. “Words, my girl.”

My girl. Why does that feel so delicious and warm in your chest? “Yes, sir,” you mewl. “I understand.”

“Good.”

And then his lips are on yours, colliding desperately and almost painfully as if he’s been waiting for this his entire life. His hands are in your hair, tugging your head backwards to allow him to place a trail of wet kisses down your face and neck. His mouth latches onto your collarbone, sucking harshly at the skin and you know it’ll be purple when he pulls away. It stings in the best way and a string of curses tumble out in a rush as you ride the high of pleasure. He bites down a little, making you yelp. “Manners,” he grumbles against your skin but he doesn’t let go, so you figure he’s letting you off with that one.

When he finally pulls away his eyes are dark and feral; all pupil and all control. His hands roam up and down the sides of your torso and he looks ready to tear you apart. “Where’d you get this dress, pretty girl?”

You pause, caught off guard. He was sucking a bruise into your skin a moment ago and now he wants fashion tips? “Um… a mall, I think.”

“Is it special to you at all?”

“Not really.”

“Good.”

With both hands he grabs at the fabric on your chest and yanks it apart; the material rips easily, crumbling in his hands and there’s a million sensations in your body as he yanks the remaining fabric off of you. The sight of your lacy black lingerie makes him smile and he fingers gently at the soft fabric of your bra. “How about these?” He asks.

“They’re not special,” you mumble. “But it’s my nicest set.”

“I’ll get you nicer.” The bra and panties put up little fight against him, and soon you’re completely naked and dripping on his lap. He pinches your stomach, just above your pussy and you whine. “Don’t ever wanna see you in cheap shit like that,” he mutters. “My girl wears the best, you understand me?”

“Yes sir,” you whisper. “Wanna be pretty for you.”

“Always are,” he grunts. He stills for a moment, stroking your thigh before he clicks his fingers, pointing at the floor in front of him. “Down.”

You obey wordlessly; you’ve adjusted surprisingly quickly to the automatic obedience he seems to expect—your body is already following his orders of its own accord even while your mind fades away into subspace and he seems profoundly pleased by it. You settle on your knees, staring up at him with wide eyes.

His lips quirk. Seconds feel like minutes until he finally speaks.

“Give me your hands.”

—

Your friend has been silent for two entire minutes. That’s how long it’s been since you finished recounting the events of the night before and looked up to see her staring at you with an open mouth. She looks… well, you don’t know exactly, but she definitely wasn’t expecting this. That much is very clear.

“Dude.” You force an awkward laugh, trying to break the silence that seems to judge you as much as you fear she is too. “You good?”

Finally she recovers herself and nods, raising the coffee mug to her lips and taking a long sip. She puts it down and you see a small smile pulling at her lips. “Yeah,” she says. “I just. Wow, girl.”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t expect… that from you. I thought you were vanilla?”

You frown; you’re not sure you’d categorise your exploits with your exes as strictly vanilla, but to someone like her, who’s more than versed in the world of dominance and submission and had only ended up as a sugar baby later on, you suppose it would be. “I thought so too. Mostly.” You shrug. “But he’s really good.”

“You don’t say,” she snorts. Her eyes are wide and you recognise the faintest hint of arousal in her expression—recognize it at as the same one you’d worn last night when Johnny tied you to a chair in front of his floor length mirror and forced you to watch as he fucked you with a vibrator until you came all over his hands.

You can’t help but rub your thighs together slightly at the memory. You clear your throat. “Yeah.”

“Fuck, I can’t believe he paddled you, girl.” She sounds impressed. “I still can’t convince mine to do that.”

You definitely didn’t have to convince Johnny; when he bent you over the bed and ran the black leather paddle across your ass, all he needed was the word ‘green’ tumbling from your lips and he was convinced and ready to go. You bite back a laugh at the thought. “Yeah,” you say.

“Did it hurt?”

“Kind of.”

You’d expected it to be worse, honestly; the paddle was fairly large and he wielded it in his hands like an executioner’s sword but as he explained to you, pain wasn’t the point of this one. It hurt, sure, but it was a slight sting and then a dull ache that was pretty bearable once the first rush subsided. But that was exactly what he wanted; the leather paddle was for play, designed for sensation rather than punishment—punishment, he told you, would come in the form of a larger wooden paddle you hope never to meet.

“Jealous,” she huffs. “And he sent you even more after?”

You nod. The transfer of ten million won as you stepped out of the taxi nearly made you collapse.

Good girl, the note said. You could almost see the smug smile as he typed it out.

“You got a good one, babe,” your friend says. “Hope he keeps it up.”

So do you.

—

The position you’re in is becoming familiar now; on your knees in front of him, naked and bound by ropes that snake down your back and loop under your thighs. What’s not familiar is the silicone plug sitting snugly in your ass and vibrating on a low, constant frequency; not enough to stimulate or satisfy you in any way, but enough to keep you needy and on edge.

Johnny is slouched slightly, lounging in his large, leather armchair and tapping his foot against the floor. His gaze is firm and authoritative but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. He taps your cheek with his finger.

“What to do with you?” It comes out as a purr and you see his bulge beginning to strain against his slacks. Your breath hitches slightly, lips pursing and he notices, because of course he does; the grin that stretches over his lips is sly and scheming.

“You like my cock, huh?” He asks. “Haven’t even seen it yet, desperate girl.”

Your eyes flicker between his crotch and those dark, piercing eyes, unsure which is affecting you more. “Sir…”

“I’m right here,” he says. “You want it?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Please, sir. Want it.”

He leans back, adjusting himself slightly. “Take it out, then. Do your job.”

You nod; you can do that. You really fucking want to do that, actually. It’s been over a week of this and you still haven’t seen his cock—he, meanwhile, has seen and touched and marked every naked inch of you.

“Yes sir.” Your hands are shaking when you undo his slacks; you falter slightly when the zip comes down and you realise he’s not wearing underwear and he cocks a questioning eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”

You shake your head, blushing slightly. “No sir.”

“Good. Pull it out.”

His cock springs up when you release it from the slacks and it’s just as big as you expected-slash-feared-slash-hoped it would be. It’s thick and veiny too, already leaking from the tip and you know your eyes are wide and desperate but you don’t care. You’ve never seen something more appetising.

“You like it, huh?” There’s amusement in his voice, layered beneath the husk of arousal. “Good. I’m gonna train you to take it every day, make you a total cockwhore for me. Hold still now.”

He pulls you towards him, holding your head steady as he pushes into your mouth. He’s not exactly rough with it, but he’s clearly not too concerned with your comfort right now; any attempt to stop you from gagging or coughing up on it is for his own sake, not yours. He guides it down into your throat and you feel yourself tearing up at the intrusion. You splutter slightly, unable to avoid choking and he tuts, yanking you back by the hair to give you a moment to breathe before pushing you back down.

“Have to train that out of you,” he mutters. “Gonna teach you to keep your throat open for me.”

He holds you still, cock resting in your throat until you settle around it, adjusting to the stretch and the feeling. “Good girl,” he grunts. “Take it like that, all the way.”

He pulls you back again and you gasp for breath, spluttering slightly but even as you regain your composure you’re still suckling eagerly at his tip like it’s the only thing you know how to do. You feel the shudder that runs through him as it reaches his cock, throbbing on your tongue. “You’re too good at this,” he mutters. “Learning so quickly. Who taught you to take a cock like that?”

“No one, sir.” Your voice is muffled around his cock, drool dripping down onto your lap.

“Shit, baby, you were really made for this. You need a reward.”

The feeling of his shoe nudging against your knees makes you jolt. “Open,” he says.

When you spread your legs you feel the stickiness of your thighs as they separate and your face burns—you’re leaking like a fucking bitch. Johnny’s smile is the widest you’ve ever seen it. “Oh, baby,” he tuts. “Dripping all over my floor like that. You in heat, honey?” His voice is teasing, gaze sharp and he doesn’t miss the shudder that rushes through you.

Still being in the early stages of your arrangement, you haven’t yet had a chance to explore the different dynamics Johnny had explained to you the first time you kneeled for him; to feel what it’s like to be his puppy or kitten whatever he wants you to be that day. For now, you’re his straightforward submissive and though you’ve certainly fucked yourself a few times to the thought of him pulling you around on a leash, you haven’t felt in a particular rush to pursue it just yet.

But those words. That tone.

You in heat?

You remember your neighbour in high school who bred dogs; how she’d sit at the table with your mother discussing puppies and litters and heats. It’s a distinctively… canine word to you; to hear yourself, your behaviour described in that way is thrilling. He knows it.

His foot moves forwards until it’s in front of your pussy and you don’t even hesitate for a second when he tells you to mount it. He watches you with a calm, pleased expression. “Look at me.”

He’s biting his lip when you meet his eyes, clearly as afflicted as you. “You remember your first lesson?”

“Yes sir.”

“What was it?”

“Don’t touch, sir,” you whisper. “Don’t touch, or— or move without permission.”

“Good,” he nods. “Remember that. You don’t move unless I tell you to. And you certainly don’t hump. Yeah?”

“Yes sir.”

He curls a stray hair behind your ear and a smile flickers over his lips. “You’re gonna tie that up next time,” he says. He tugs lightly at your hair to illustrate his point and you moan softly. “I don’t want you looking like a stray in here. I keep my toys clean.”

Fuck, you love the way he talks to you; insulting and demeaning yet tickling all the right parts of your brain to make you melt even deeper into submission.

He pulls you towards him. “Keep that mouth open.”

That’s the only thing you get that even resembles a warning before he’s shoving himself into you again and there’s no pretence of gentleness or caution this time as he forces his way into your throat. He holds your head down on it and pushes two thumbs into the top of your jaw so you can’t close your mouth even if you want to—all you can do is gag and choke and take it until he’s finished with you.

You’re faintly aware of tears streaming down your face, but by the time they land on your chest they’re mixed with the door that pours from your mouth as he fucks in and out. You’re so overwhelmed that you scarcely notice the feeling of your dripping pussy rubbing agonisingly against his shoe and trying desperately not to move; all the sensations have blurred into one now and everything is the same, everything is too much. You want more.

When he pulls out you can’t help but whine, feeling the loss and he chuckles. “Never met someone so desperate for cock,” he says. “Born for it, weren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Your gaze shifts to the cock in his hands, still hard and leaking and your tongue swipes over your bottom lip, practically salivating. You shoot him a pleading look and he clicks his tongue. “No, sweet thing. You’ve had enough of that. Besides, I don’t think you’ve earned my cum in your throat yet. Push your tits out for me.”

You obey begrudgingly, disappointed at the denial but still eager to please; he rewards you with a slight nudge of his foot against your pussy and you buck against it, falling against his shin and he laughs and pulls you back by the hair so he can see you properly.

“So easy,” he groans. His hand slides up and down his dick with increasing vigour and he throws his head back in pleasure. “Fuck.”

The tightening of his grip in your hair tells you when he’s about to cum and you push your tits out further to catch it. He grunts and moans through his orgasm and your chest and thighs are a mess of drool and spit and cum by the time he picks you up and takes you into his lap.

His rough hands are tender and careful now as he runs a warm wet cloth across your skin, gathering the mess you made together. His fingers are rubbing soothing patterns on your neck as he‘a mumbling something you can’t quite make out. Doesn’t really matter, though; his hold is warm and familiar and the low vibrations in his chest as he speaks are strangely comforting against the flushed skin of your face.

Maybe it’s the endorphins or the headrush that always follows your scenes with him, but you swear you’ve never felt safer.

The money’s not bad either.

—

nct taglist: @bbdeongi @yabbadabbatuh @fancypeacepersona

requests open.

[getosbigballsack]

Random thought!

But just imagine 35 years old CEO Gojo Satoru falling in love with the young woman whom he hired to be his surrogate.

Desperate at this point to fulfill his role as CEO and the heir of his family clan, he knew he had no other choice but to find someone who would be willing to give birth to his child.

He thought his ex-wife was the one. After all, she was pregnant when they were still together. When the due date came around and Satoru heard that she gave birth to a healthy baby boy, he was over the moon until he saw the baby for himself.

He knew that that wasn't his baby. Blonde hair and green eyes? No one in his family had blonde hair and green eyes. So he asked for a DNA test. His ex-wife refused at first, but then she gave in, and when the test came back, the baby was 99.99%, not his child.

He was broken. He served her divorce papers the following day, and after everything he had done for her, this is how she chose to repay him. As if cheating wasn't enough, she had to get pregnant and gave birth to another man’s child.

So now here he is sitting in a cafe waiting for the surrogate.

...

You didn't have much of a choice. 26 years of age and still struggling to get your bachelor's degree just so that you could live a comfortable life and be financially stable.

But with the way things are right now, you knew that it was an impossible task to complete your final year. You could hardly manage to pay your school fee. You kept on getting rejection letters from student loans, and let's face it, you barely had time to study to even try to get a scholarship.

So now you're stuck looking for a quick and easy way to make money. You had little options, and prostitution just so happened to be one of them. And you almost turned to it, that's until you heard that a "rich" CEO was looking for a woman who was willing to give birth to his heir.

So now that's how you ended up in the situation to you're in currently. Nervously playing with your fingers as sat across from no other than Gojo Satoru.

"Your name is Y/N?"

"Yes, and you're Mr. Gojo Satoru."

He shook his head yes while taking a sip of his coffee. "I hope you don't mind meeting like this. I thought it would be better to meet in a more casual setting instead of my office. I don't want to intimidate you."

"That's fine, Mr. Gojo."

"Before we get started, are you sure you want to do this? I want you to be absolutely sure because once you sign the contract, there is no backing out of it."

You shook your head yes before responding, "it's something that I've thought about deeply, Mr. Gojo, and after reading through the contract a few times, I came to the conclusion that I would rather have a baby for a stranger who is willing pay to me more than what my school fee is worth than go and become a prostitute."

He was shocked by your words but said nothing of it. It wasn't his place to say anything or have any comment about your personal life.

"Well then, I guess we can go ahead and meet with our lawyers and sign the contract."

"Lawyers? I thought... I can't afford a lawyer right now," you said to him.

He chuckled, "I figured that that would be the case. No worries, I had already hired a lawyer for you."

"You did?" You asked. Just then, the door to the cafe burst opened, and in came a man and a woman dressed in suits.

"Ah, there they are. Right on time."

Gojo stood up and greeted the lawyers before he introduced you to them. The man, Mr. Nanami Kento is his lawyer, and the woman Tetsu Akari is your lawyer. First impression she has a kind and calm aura around her.

But let's move down the line.

You four all sat and discussed what was on the contract, and before you signed it, Gojo asked, "Is there anything that you need to clarify before signing the contract."

"Yes, uhm, it's about the procedure. Are we going to uhm... have... uhm intercourse to conceive the baby?"

"We could since it's the safe way to go about this, but no," he answered with a small smile on his face.

"Ok then, where do I sign."

This is the beginning of how Gojo Satoru fell in love with the woman he hired to be his surrogate.

[stewpidcheescatarinabluu]

I have everything, but I want you.

Synopsis: A rich but failing student meets his match in Karina, a smart, no-nonsense tutor. What starts as a forced arrangement slowly turns into something real, teaching him that even with everything, the one thing he truly wants is her.

Word Count: 2,804

It was sunny like any ordinary day, you usually follow your routine of going to school, dozing off on every class, get out of school and proceed to go shopping or go to a club with friends, you live a life of luxury, there’s no such thing as expensive for you, new perfume? no problem, new pair of shoes? easy!, another condominium? phew what else?

you have everything they say but there’s no doubt you lack the intelligence, you lack the ability to focus on class and actually maintain a good grade, to you grades are just titles that defines who you are, and there’s nothing money can’t buy right? thats what you think until you were called to the principals office.

you walked the empty halls of the school as it reflects the orange hue the setting sun shines for the last time today, you let a soft sigh before opening the principal’s door.

once you opened the door you see the school’s principal sitting at his desk.

“Y/N, come sit down.” he said in a disappointed voice.

upon hearing this you made yourself comfortable at the cushion in front of the desk.

“ya need anything principal?, a loan or something?”

you said while fidgeting with your hands and lightly thumping your feet at the ground.

“No Y/N, the reason I called you here is because, you are failing.”

he said under his sigh, while rubbing his temple clearly dissatisfied and stressed.

“Failing? must be one subject right? it can’t be that bad right, Principal?

you said while scooting a envelope full of cash under the table—

—upon noticing this the principal denied your bribe and continued his lecture saying-

“given Y/N that you are failing only ONE subject but no, you are failing EVERY subject” adding emphasis on “every”

he doubled down and said—

“We cannot resolve this matter through bribery. As a school principal, it is a question of integrity and honor—accepting such an offer would compromise both, I’m sorry Y/N.”

You don’t even know what to say. It’s second nature by now—throw some cash, fix the problem. But this time? Money doesn’t fix it. And that’s what messes you up the most.

“I’ll figure a way principal.”

you said with a faint tone seemingly worried about this whole situation.

as the conversation finished you found yourself worrying about this, should I pay someone to do my work? didn’t work, pay someone to act like me and go to school? no you’ve already done that. As your Rolls Royce drove closer to your newly both condo you keep running out of ideas, ideas that revolves around money.

—Your Chauffeur opened the door for you and carried your bag up to the front door when you were greeted by your parents.

“Y/N…care to explain yourself young man?” said by your mom with arms crossed and a stern look.

“huh? what are you doing here mom? I thought you guys are spending the week at the Netherlands?” you rebutted with the hopes of changing the subject—

—but your parents didn’t budge forcing you to explain yourself with the stern looks on their face its obvious that they were not happy.

“Is it about my academics? I thought you guys didn’t care?” you groaned while trying to walk past them but your Dad shoved his arm to your chest.

your Dad finally spoke— “the principal called us on our trip, saying that you’ve been failing all of your classes even Reading and Writing?. Y/N how can you fail READING AND WRITING?”

He said with a hint of aggression in his voice especially at that last part—

—after being flabbergasted you gathered your thoughts and replied to your Dad. “Jeez it’s reading and writing, I can pay someone to read OR write for me, it’s no big deal…plus I’ll figure something out.”

Finally being able to enter your condo, while you plopped unto your imported fur coach your Mom said something and she wasn’t joking.

“If this continue young man, I’m afraid we’ll have to remove your access to your own credit cards and if thats not enough we’ll cut your allowance from 150K to 30K until we see some changes.”

you were devastated…no access to your own money and losing some of it in the process? it seems like these type of punishments sets you straight.

“I’ll do anything mom, just please don’t do that!” you pleaded, even kneeling down begging.

she was disgusted by your actions “stand up Y/N dear, thats very vulgar of you, perhaps me and your father have been too carefree raising you”

—your father looked at you as you stand up after kneeling like everything’s on the line (from what you think is everything I guess?) “Anything you say?” he said.

You not thinking much just nodded and nodded seemingly happy that they won’t take your card and allowance away—

—your parents smiled and looked at each-other like they know this would happen. “well we hired a tutor for you to improve your classes, she’s pretty nice and whats even better is she’s around your age and is studying too, our deal here is you put up with her until your grade is higher then we’ll return your card and allowance to normal.”

“is that all?” you said with a cocky tone while inside your mind you thought “phew this’ll be easy i’ll just make her quit like those other tutors I had at the past.”

After the agreement your parents left at the same day to go resume their itinerary back at The Netherlands especially Amsterdam, leaving you all alone and with a note saying “Be nice to her she’ll be here before 7PM” left by your parents and a pile of cash amounting to 25K for expenses for the week, for normal people that’s enough for a whole week or even months but for you? that won’t even last 3 hours, but you were left with that and no access to any of your accounts.

You waited for two hours, pacing your room, the silence echoing through your massive condo—until finally, a knock broke through. You got up, walked past the long halls of polished floors and designer furniture, and opened the door. And there she was.

She looked about your age—long hair, bangs framing her face, a school uniform clinging to her like it belonged there, and a massive bag slung over her shoulder. She wore a smug look like it was custom-made, and even from where you stood, you could catch the scent of her cheap perfume. But none of that matched the image you had in your head—because in person, she was even more beautiful. Younger, livelier. And suddenly, you knew this wouldn’t be as easy as getting another tutor to quit. This was going to be a challenge.

She fixed her hair, breath shallow and skin glistening—she was panting, clearly having run all the way here. You could tell from the way her chest rose and fell, the light sheen on her forehead. A dozen thoughts rushed through your mind, but before you could settle on one, she spoke

“Is this the Moreau residence?” she said in a calm rather deep but luscious voice.

“yeah, are you perhaps the tutor my parents hired?” you said while smirking trying to impress her for some weird reason.

she nods while holding a pile of notebooks “yes I’m Yu Jimin but you can call me Karina, after the catholic name my grandma gave me.”

“what a introduction, I’m applaud” butchering the grammar but seeming confident.

“Don’t you mean I’m amazed? or I’m amused, Sir Y/N?” as she fixed her bangs while looking at the floor.

“yeah yeah you get what I mean, please come in.” while gesturing for her to entry, not even bothering helping her with the heavy things she brought.

You both made your way to your room, her footsteps trailing behind as she took in the sheer size of your condo. Lavish, spotless, absurdly large—she was clearly stunned. And then came your room: massive, with shelves stacked with car books and display figures, a full car bumper suspended from the ceiling as a makeshift light fixture, a high-end PC setup, and a giant TV facing your king-sized mattress. She stood there, silent, taking it all in. To her, your room alone was bigger than the dorm she called home. Once the awe wore off, she quietly settled at the desk near the window, unpacking her books like it was just another day

“So what subject do you struggle in Y/N?” she said while looking at you with a cold face.

“uh math with a little bit of everything….” you said while slightly lowering your voice on the last part.

“everything?, for someone who’s rich your awfully dumb huh?” she teased you stating out the obvious.

“don’t have to state the obvious you know? plus who are you to tease me.” you rebutted glaring at her from across the room.

The room only tensed up, clearly the both of you not on the best of terms….—

—“come sit here, let me teach you some basic math and after that we’ll set up a schedule for every week.”

You swallowed your pride and gave in, settling beside her. Her perfume hit you—cheap, sure, but weirdly captivating. Distracting, even. You couldn’t explain why, but it pulled at you, stuck in your head like a song you didn’t mean to like.

She went on and on about basic math—so basic it started with PEMDAS and somehow led to long division.

“Your math IQ rivals that of a grade 3 student Y/N.” she teased yiu while holding her laughter.

“shut up.” you said pissed off but slowly relenting her attitude.

It���s not bad, as time passes by you catch yourself looking at her instead of the paper, but of course she’d catch on and scold you. “look at the paper not me, I’m not some math equation.” under the lines of that.

Time slipped by unnoticed, and before you knew it, midnight had arrived. Karina gathered her things and bid you farewell for the night.

“I’m off now, dumbass,” she said, her new favorite nickname for you slipping off her tongue with ease. “You better study that quadratic equation, alright?” she added with a teasing smile.

Yeah, yeah, we’ll see—when exactly? Of course, for the tutor…” you replied, playing it off. But really, you just wanted to know when you could be close to her again—laughing, caught in her orbit. It wasn’t often that something—someone—pulled your attention like this. Not when you were used to being captivated only by money.

“By Friday i’ll be here same time.” she said while fixing her bag, “see ya then.” before leaving your room and eventually your front door.

After she left all you can do is plop on your king sized mattress, rethinking the scenarios that just happened, she looks so beautiful its inhumane of you to say things under those lines but its a first and weirdly enough you don’t despise it, rather liking it.

nothing really happened in your week, just the blazing anticipation of the week waiting for Friday to arrive, and rest assured it did, she knocked, you guys did your usual things, study at your room, she checked your homework, and resume the study for literature but then again you caught yourself captivated by her beauty.

“You’re staring dumbass.” she sighed, while looking at your eyes.

—you can’t help but blush at the eye contact, thinking of a reply but your mind betrayed you malfunction at a crucial moment..at this moment all she can realize is the red tint that your face is producing.

“you’re blushing.” she whispered this time but its obvious somethings behind those whisper, she’s teasing you.

after what look like an hour you finally regained your thoughts “where were we again?” you said.

“If you have time to look at me, you have time to learn about Korean literature!!” she shouted while smiling at you.

it seems like its not only you who grew fond of someone, she can’t help but think about you especially last week…the anticipation also got the better of her.

“hey Y/N listen, lets do this question together, its too tough for your little 1st grade intelligence anyways” she teased while pointing at the question.

“if I answer will I get extra credit?” you said rebutting her sentence with a tease.

“dumbass” you can notice the stutter in her voice following the pink hue her cheeks illuminated.

As time passed, every day between tutoring sessions started to feel like filler—like pointless gaps in the story, just waiting for the next time you’d see Karina. It became torture not having her around. Each session pulled you closer. The laughs, the quiet moments, the way she’d explain things with patience—it all grew into something more. You started improving in school, little by little. Your grades went up, and for once, your parents looked at you with pride. They warmed up to Karina quickly—how could they not? She was kind, respectful, easy to talk to. Before long, it wasn’t just study sessions. Karina started showing up on days she didn’t have to. She’d tag along to family dinners, help with errands, linger just a little longer than needed. Her presence became routine—but never boring. It felt right. Like she belonged.

You didn’t realize when it shifted—when the ache to see her stopped being about school and started being about her. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear mid-sentence. The way she laughed when your little brother tried to impress her. The way she looked at you sometimes, like she knew something you didn’t.

And you started to wonder… if maybe she felt it too.

It happened on a Thursday.

Nothing special about the day—no rain, no dramatic music, just the two of you sitting at the kitchen counter with half-finished worksheets and cold tea. The rest of the house was quiet, your parents out, your siblings scattered.

Karina leaned over to point at something on your paper, and you weren’t listening.

You were looking at her. The way the light caught the edge of her cheek, the way her brows furrowed when she was focused. She noticed. “What?” she said, laughing a little. “Did I smudge ink on my face again?”

You shook your head. “No. You’re just…” You trailed off, because for once, the words didn’t come easy. “You’re just kinda… always here now.”

She blinked. “Is that a bad thing?” You smiled, but your heart was thudding. “No. It’s the best part of my week.” Karina’s smile softened

But she didn’t speak. Just looked at you, like she was waiting. So you went for it. Quiet, low, honest. “I think I like you, Karina. Not in the ‘thanks for helping me pass math’ way. Like… actually.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy. It was warm. Still. Karina looked at you for a long second, then tucked her hair behind her ear—just like she always did when she was flustered. “I was wondering when you’d figure that out,” she whispered.

You looked at her and smiled, softer than you ever had.

“I’ve always had everything,” you said, voice low. “But somehow… I still wanted you.”

Karina didn’t say anything. She just reached for your hand—and in that moment, it was enough.

Everything made sense. Because this—she—was the only thing that ever really mattered.

[hwangism143]

dim lights (work nights)

synopsis: work party. seungmin is a suit. a glass of wine. oh, you are so done.

pairing: lawyer!seungmin x fem!reader

genre: workplace romance, fluff, teensy angst

warnings: drinking, punching jokes, swearing

word count: 1.2k words

a/n: been in my drafts for like a week hehe. suit seungmin has me screaming. anyways, enjoy and pls drop any and all feedback!

"I'll be charging ten dollars to punch him in the face, upon your generous request," murmured a low voice tantalizingly close to your ear.

You scoffed, "The things I want to do to Davies go far beyond a modest punch to the face. Those things could get me in jail."

One arm across your waist and the other's elbow propped upon your hand, you turned to face the owner of the honeyed voice that just offered you an extremely lucrative deal moments. Swirling around the remaining wine in your wine glass, you studied Kim Seungmin as he studied you.

"In that case," Seungmin sighed, "You'll have to pay my legal consultancy fees which, I'm afraid is far higher."

A laugh bubbled from your lips as Seungmin smirked at your rage. Watching one of the many people you were currently pitted against for a promotion kissing up to your boss made anger blossom within you. Then again, you weren't exactly known for being the most level-headed lawyer employed at the Prescott, Park and Daley Legal Firm.

But you, along with Seungmin, were known for being the best.

You offered Seungmin eyes that reflected betrayal. "I thought you would bail me out for free. I thought we were friends," you chastised.

"We most definitely are not friends, darling," said Seungmin smugly.

A smirk was forming on his lips and an eyebrow was ticked up. You felt yourself being stripped bare under his piercing gaze and flirtatious smile. Oh how he loved torturing you.

You caught your lip between your teeth to drink him in, deciding to conveniently ignore the fact that your teeth were currently in the process of being stained by your dark red lipstick. Seungmin's hair was styled to perfection, his skin was glowing and his eyes stayed on you as if you were a person he wished to learn every fold of. His three-piece suit was tailored to perfection and hugged his body perfectly.

You looked away and hoped he attributed your flushed face to the wine you were drinking. He was right though. You and Seungmin were not friends, not in the conventional sense. It was more of a situation where being paired up so much over the seven years that you spent at the firm caused to the two of you to become comfortable in each other's presence.

Both you having graduated top of your class from law school (you went to Harvard Law while Seungmin opted for Princeton), you both joined the law firm at the same time, full of dreams and aspirations. At first, you both considered one another as rivals. Constantly being compared truly made you inhibit a sort of begrudging sense of dislike towards him.

However, working your first together, truly made you realize how he was actually a very caring person. Seungmin constantly knew what to say to you without even saying anything. He brought you food and made you ramen after he found out your extreme affection towards the Korean delicacy.

You and Seungmin, however, came from strikingly different backgrounds. Seungmin lived comfortably and had a wealthy upbringing, which caused people to often underestimate his hard work. You went to school on an eighty percent scholarship but still worked three jobs to pay of your student loan, causing people to often very offensively doubt your etiquette.

You heard the rumors about rich kid Seungmin during your initial weeks at the firm. Allegedly (you are a lawyer, of course you use the word allegedly more than any other word over), he lived in a high rise apartment with so many floors that a helicopter, a fucking helicopter,crashed into the side of it.

You took extreme pride in being the only one to know that this was, in fact, true, as confirmed by the man himself.

Forcing your eyes to go back to Seungmin, your gaze sat on the horrendous lump which he called his 'tie'.

"It's on wrong," you remarked, motioning towards Seungmin's tie. He gave you shrug. "Fix it for me?"

You set down your now empty glass on the sleek granite table and the private restaurant lounge your colleagues and high playing clients were currently in. The low jazz music and soft lighting gave the entire room an ambience of romance. This was only heightened by Seungmin's sudden desire to covertly flirt with you.

Reaching around his neck to undo his tie, you never broke eye contact with him. You could feel his gaze start from your eyes and trail all the way down to your black stilettoes. He had a faint smile on his face. So he likes what he sees?

Finishing with a scoff, you send him away with a pat on his arm in a futile attempt to diffuse the tiny fireworks that were popping all over your body. Seungmin disappeared into the crowd to socialize, leaving you his scent surrounding your very being.

Grabbing another drink (a mojito), you walked over to the table where Seungmin's paralegal, Hyunjin, sat scrolling on his phone. Both of you being ambiverts who leaned more towards the introverted side, you both often found yourself sitting at the quiet people table in silence.

You could see Hyunjin's welcoming eyes move from you to somewhere behind you, morphing into one of distaste. You followed his line of sight to find your paralegal, Yeji, downing shots like her life depended on it. Although Hyunjin loved his cousin, he wouldn't be caught dead doing the things she did.

"You're painfully fond of him," started Hyunjin in mock annoyance, "It's disgusting."

You rolled your eyes at him and gave him a light slip. Hyunjin dramatically feigned pain and pushed a plate of food towards you. Your stomach rumbling as if on cue, you pounced on the food and relished it. That was one good thing about these corporate meetings; they had free food, at least as far as girl logic went.

Finishing up with a satisfied sigh, you looked up only to lock eyes with a notorious Mr. Peterson, a heavily disliked client who loved hitting on women. The bartender, Chan, offered you a sympathetic smile and slid you a shot of tequila.

"You're gonna need it," he said pitifully, patting your hand twice for reassurance.

Suppressing the urge to slap the now emerging Mr. Peterson and plastering on a fake smile, you turned to face the cause of your sorrow. The short, balding man's attempt at making any nonsensical, non-professional conversation was shot down by you quickly. You waved around your hand around, hoping he would take note of the large diamond ring that sat nestled in you finger.

You hoped he would take the hint about your marital status. You were loyal to your husband to a fault. Behind you, a Kim Seungmin watched you in amusement. You felt both sadness and anger seep into you. Sadness because he wasn't near you and anger because you were left alone to deal with a human shaped insolence.

Finally escaping from the clutches of Mr. Peterson grubby hands, you put your head down on the cold marble slab. Your hands held your heels and your head was already pounding from the effects of alcohol. Behind you, you heard a laugh that you knew unmistakable belonged to Seungmin. Turning around, you came face to face with a seemingly put together and knowingly exhausted Seungmin.

"Working hours are over," you said wearily.

"So?" came Seungmin's dry response.

You held your arms up like a child. "So, would you like to carry your extremely drunk yet adorably lovable wife home?"

Seungmin pressed a kiss to your forehead and duly obliged.

main taglist (reply to be added) - @linoalwaysknows

[lottievintage]

Ruth Beautè

Minor facts:

Has a southern dolly accent, so American and sweet voice. (Voice Claim: Cherry Valance from The Outsiders.)

Has an animalistic view on students.

Knows how use a gun. (At the age of 9.) She keeps pistol with her in her workbag when she’s out, for protection.

She was illegally emancipated, her mom and her went their separate ways when she came back from catholic school

She was homeless for two days until she met an old Italian man and took her in, making him a father figure onto her, but he died due to “loan sharks”, which was on her birthday, she owned the house all to herself ,and redecorated the whole house.

Her biggest secret was she was the daughter of the famous French Somalian actress Vivian Beau.

She is neurodivergent, and showed signs of Autism while growing up.

Loves 60s fashion, adores it, she is one of the most fashionable girls at school, even if her uniform does scream.. “50s church gal.”

She knows French, Spanish and the Somali language.

While Lola is called the Queen, and Pinky is called the Princess, Ruth is labeled the Duchess of Bullworth.

She plays electric guitar, Cello, Violin, Piano

The large rosary she wear is ACTUALLY disguised as a dagger, if you take off the silver cap of the bottom of the cross, and swing it, a sharp blade will come out. It was gifted from her past lover who died.

She calls people by their last names, which gives her a look of maturity and authority

When she’s harming a person (who deserves it) she gets violently annoyed when they start crying, she believes in equal punishment.

She works at a fancy restaurant in Old Bullworth Vale and gets tips either from lonely, weird divorced men or because she plays the violin well. The people who go to the restaurant are from rich families.

Works at Aquaberry Outlet too sometimes.(Lowkey was thinking about leaving because some young girls said she looked like “Vivian Beau”)

Knows Sign language thanks to her past lover. (Yes he was deaf.)

School Titles:

“Class Representative”, — Non Cliques/ People who respect or scared of her

“Villainess Nun”—Lola, Earnest

“Miss Beauty”— Jason (My Oc), Juri, Chad

“Babe Ruth”—Vance

“Doe eyes”— Vance, Gord

“Sociopathic Bitch”— Mandy, (Pre game) Gary, Earnest, Davis White

Mini Mrs.Peabody—(Pre game) Gary

Clique relationships:

Bullies: Ruth does like not bullying, at all. Considering her past lover died by suicide, because of bullying, she is a shadow dictator of the school. But, nonetheless she does use the bullies in her rule of authority. She pays them about 80 dollars to 50 in cash, to spill her the details on other students, specifically males, and to beat up perverts or anyone trying to roof girls drinks in parties. Most bullies are scared of her, but she does allow them to beat up Earnest, when she sees them attack him she turns a blind eye to it, considered later one she found out his…rather perverse picture of Mandy. (She may hate Mandy’s guts, but she’s a girls girl at heart.) Later on after her public trial with her mom, she ends up dating Tom. They actually first met bumping into one another, they had a goofy conversation, him mess in up on her last name, she liked him, but Joetta said she liked him so she killed her feelings for him immediately, only for it to fail and they end up being together.

Nerds: They see her as their, savior, at least some of them. She once saw Algie crying in a corner when she was coming from Chemistry class, and he complained to her about the jocks and their vile behavior towards him. This gave Ruth the idea for the Halloween party. She dressed up as Billy Loomis from Ghostface and seduced Casey Harris into the woods, leaving him there for awhile. Casey ended up seeing Algie’s fake dead body lying there, flies around him. It looked bloody, his stomach was cut open, which looked like the work of an axe. (Ruth gave Algie some sick looking makeup and a clay belly, and filled it with pig intestines to make it look like it was his actual organs, she even gave him some white contacts to give him that dead look). Ruth came out of the woods dressed up as the actual Ghost face, holding an axe. Before taking her mask off and yelling at him like a cinematic sociopath (she’s a good actor to be honest), he fell into a ditch, a deep one. Algie got up and revealed with Ruth to Casey he wasn’t dead, they saw his body in the ditch and left him there. (Casey also took spiked punch, so later that day, he couldn’t prove that Ruth’s a sadistic bitch.) She doesn’t like Earnest, not only he is weak, scaly, and a hypocrite, but mostly because of what he did to Mandy. Some of the nerds did want to turn on to her because she joined the soccer team and she looked more…”jockey” but she had to remind them of who she stood by, even if Earnest tried to make her seem like an villain of their midst. She uses the Nerds coding abilities to get into the teachers digital files and keeps an eye on her enemies grades and social media, along with their…dark pasts. Really dark. Some nerds even have crushes on her, so easy on her part.

Jocks: Due to their actions, Ruth sees them as, brainless animals. The weak ants to her. But, Mandy Wiles was an huge problem to her. Mandy was jealous of Ruth to most extent. Ruth has beauty, hell, her last name literally means beautiful, she’s smart in academics, getting complements from the Head, and the teachers. Mandy did try to befriend Ruth, but once she had showed her true colors by purposely tripping Bucky at lunch, Ruth immediately told her to stay the hell away from her. Mandy also made fun of Ruth for being a “virgin purist girl”(Internalized misogyny), so Ruth felt annoyed, so she exposed the fact Mandy had been with Jason….which wasn’t good to explain to Jason in the nurses office. And because Mr. Burton is weird and didn’t give a damn about Ruth’s feelings of being uncomfortable, Ruth’s soccer shorts were tight on her, showing her hips were more… wider than most girls and Ruth is a mostly modest person— so obviously this didn’t turn out so well. Wiles gave Ruth the nickname, “Ruth Bootay”. And because Ruth had a “purity” complex this gave her a deep state of discomfort and depression in how her body looks, even the male jocks talk about her body, which made her feel like a hoe, a harlot. When she almost catched herself about to almost cry like a loser, she realized she can ruin Mandy’s life by tormenting her back, you know— the norm? This was by telling girls what Mandy has said about them, isolating people she found close to her, ruining her skin products, by sneaking in her dorm, pouring dirt in there, maybe some cooking oil in that mix. She even got help from her best friend Joetta, to write nasty articles on her, calling her whore, making her worse than Lola. Ruth would also tell on her vaguely to Mrs. Peabody, claiming she was mentally ill. (Guys this is Bullworth, okay?) but sooner or later, they got their issues worked out when the Headmaster assigned them together to get their act together. Bo Jackson is the only chill guy she can stand, a few jocks stopped talking about her body when they knew who serious she was in soccer, along side Jason. (Soccer ain’t even her passion.)

Preps: Ruth gets respect from them because she handles her situations well in mock trial, she even won against Derby in many trials, which eventually leads Derby feeling concerned of his title of being a Harrington, ���they never lose”, this leads him to buy a win from the holder of that club, Mr. Hatwick, this makes Ruth have an internal hatred for him. He reminds her of “Donna” a girl from her past in catholic school, she’s also the reason why Ruth was ashamed to be rich in the first place. Due to superiority complexes , Ruth and Derby weren’t the best at being civil with one another. Each room they were in gave tension, you’d need a chainsaw to cut that tension. Chad and Gord along with Parker had admitted into finding her attractive, but the guys do find her “scary” especially since she had made witnesses cry and have emotional reactions. Pinky and her had minor tension because of all the good things people said about her, saying stuff like, “she’s not even that special”, but they became decent friends since Ruth also shops at Aquaberry from time to time and works there, and gave her good advice on clothes. Parker did ended up dating her and that’s when Pinky and her both ended up getting closer as friends. Ruth has been invited to Harrington house parties, sometimes came over for club discussions, mostly to see Parker when they were together, and she wouldn’t mind playing the piano for them. Ruth in my roleplay saved Derby from Raymond Chester, a politician’s son, who was trying to get Derby’s Harrington name ruined, including his family, Ruth exposed them in a special event she was invited to, which made her and Derby be…somewhat decent.

Townies: She barely knew them, but she began to know a few of them, when she saw Jason hanging out with them, that’s when she knew about Jason a little more…the townies only become a serious topic when Ruth got fully and properly adopted by a sheriff, she asked them for clues and ask them what happened on things, since her present self is in her “riverdale” era and helps her foster moms cases.

Greasers: Ruth at first they were just some Outsider/Grease wannabes, but couldn’t be hypocritical since she dresses like she’s from the 50-60s, she was sadly forced by the head to tutor most of them. She believes the most attractive greaser of them all isn’t really Johnny Vincent, but more so Ricky. But she doesn’t have a crush on him, just thinks that way. She and Vance get along fine, he’s helps her with guy troubles, and when I mean “guy” troubles, more so on Jason because of the fights they have on his…living situation. Vance and her poke fun at Ricky and Johnny sometimes, they act like annoying siblings to them sometimes. She ignores Lola and Johnny’s problems because their relationship isn’t worth any fixing or respect they don’t really intimidated her. Her rep is somewhat debatable with them, she doesn’t snitch on them if she sees one of them egging Harrington house. And since she has the preps moral respect with preps, the greasers between trusting her and seeing her as one of them, but soon they realize this girl really doesn’t give a damn, even when she got adopted by Miss Rodriguez. They trust her.

Outfit models:

Based off of/ Mentality:

Beth Harmon - Queens Gambit

Cherry Valance- The Outsiders

Blair Waldorf- Gossip Girl

[rosedpetal]

Workmates

Summary: Ransom Drysdale has been the essence of hell in your life, and now you two are forced to work together.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Authors note: this is a repost, and it was originally a three part fic.

Warnings: smut at the end.

Minors, do not interact.

Masterlist

Ransom was staring at you with a shit-eating grin on his stupid face. The remains of your coffee were sprawled on the cafeteria floor, on the table, and on your - not anymore - white shirt.

"Jesus, Y/N! Are you okay?" Your boss, Emma, the senior partner of the law firm you worked for, asked you while you put your weight on your hands to get balanced enough to get up. You wanted to scream that no, you were not okay. You fell on your fucking knees after being tripped by Ransom. That son of a...

"I'm fine, really." You mumbled, accepting her hand for help. Emma weirdly looked at Ransom. She was probably confused about why he didn't offer you, a lady, his hand. You almost laughed. Ransom Drysdale was no gentleman, and why would he help you when he was the reason you almost broke your kneecaps?

You sighed, trying not to cry. You didn't spare him a second glance, because you knew that if you did, you would end up kicking his groin.

"You don't seem fine, sweetheart." His condescending voice mocked you. "Perhaps we should have this conversation on another day?"

It would be great for him to have this conversation on another day. He and you were fighting for the same promotion in the firm - and you'd been there for the past three years, while the nepo baby had started a few months prior - and it was being a nerve-wracking competition where he would torment you, and you would try not to react.

So much for having some fucking peace.

You spent years studying hard to get a decent-paying job, one that would make your parents' struggle of having a kid in college worth it. You had to be successful. You owed them that.

And while some of your classmates - Ransom Drysdale and his obnoxious rich buddies - partied and failed assignment after assignment, you almost went crazy doing everything you could to get your law degree and pass the bar exam.

You still couldn't get a grasp on how Ransom passed the bar. Back then, he never seemed the studious type, and he never gave you a second glance either - the girl in the front seat, face buried in books, making notes and asking questions all the damn time. You didn't pleasantly catch his eye, either. Most of your female classmates had tans for spending weekends on sunny beaches, had better wardrobes than you, and could have meals without feeling guilty because the money spent on it wouldn't make a difference in their bank accounts.

You envied them. But most of the time, you couldn't be allowed to feel sorry for yourself when there was such a long journey to complete.

It was for the best, in the end. You got into a renowned law firm and paid off your student loans. With your new income, you could finally afford a good apartment, treat your parents and give yourself luxuries you never dreamed about.

And just after you finally started thriving, Ransom fucking Drysdale got a job offer at the same firm, and he dared to look surprised when he saw you working there.

You were the one who should be surprised. Ransom was a total airhead - and that was a compliment. How the fuck a lazy rich man-child passed the fucking bar when he didn't bother even attending classes?

Why is life so fucking unfair?

“You dozed off a little, sweetheart." Ransom stated while you stared at Emma.

"I think we should have this conversation now, I can just put a sweater over my shirt." You tried to put on a calm voice but you cringed at how you sounded distressed.

Damn right you were about to cry.

"Hmm, okay." Emma stared at the two of you back and forth. She was too damn smart to not see through your poor excuse of a friendly façade with Ransom, but she was also kind enough to not say a thing about it.

"I gave it a thought, and while you, Hugh, are way above the expectations for your lack of experience; Y/N's been the top attorney of this firm for years. It's not really a fair comparison."

It's really fucking not, Emma! You wanted to yell at her face but forced a smile at the compliment. 

"So, I had this amazing idea." she continued, and you started to panic. While Emma was brilliant she could be so naive with her ideas. She looked at you. "You get the promotion and take Hugh under your wing. You'll work on your cases together, and he gets more experience... What do you think?

Before you could answer her, Ransom smiled like a kid in a candy shop.

"We're gonna work so well together, Y/N!" The bastard grinned. "Thank you for the opportunity, Emma, it means the world to me."

You wished the earth opened up and swallowed you up.

Your new office was way bigger, just as much as the dread in your veins. It had a nice view of Boston from your giant glass windows, and you couldn't even enjoy it because of your new work buddy.

"Good morning, boss!" His voice chanted behind you, and you turned to face him, angrily. "Why the face? Didn't get your coffee this morning?"

You breathed in, out, in, out. Maybe if you counted to ten, you wouldn't throw him out the window. You pictured the noise his body would make once it hit the ground, and suddenly, you were in a lighter mood.

"No, a little bitch tripped me and I couldn't enjoy it. But I just know you're going to be a sweetheart and get me another one." You pronounced the word 'sweetheart' with vengeance. 

"How do you like your coffee, sweetheart?" He mimicked and smiled at you, unfazed. 

Oh, the realization hit you. He was totally gonna spit on your precious coffee.

"Nevermind, I'm not in the mood for coffee anymore." You answered him quickly, trying to ignore his disturbing existence and adjusting your things. You were an organized person, and all the files of your current cases were organized inside a big archive box.

You sat on your new chair and placed your laptop on your new desk while Ransom was still staring at you like a moron.

"What?" Your voice came out harsher than you intended.

"Just thinking. I should've given you more attention in college. Maybe I would be sitting on your chair and you would be the one fantasizing about spitting on my coffee."

You snorted and he looked at you, amused. You were caught off guard too.

After that little moment, the first day working with him went by surprisingly well. You went over cases, spoke with clients and he took everything in gracefully. You were still mad at him, how couldn't you be? He was a fucking brat, and he was an ass with you for no reason.

Well, he had a reason but it wasn't a good motive. He tried to bully you to quit, how fucked up in the head that could be? If work was high school, Hugh Ransom Drysdale would be the mean cheerleader captain.

When you were about to leave for the day, grabbing your coat and your bag, Ransom stopped you.

"Hey, wanna have a drink tonight?"

You rolled your eyes.

"Absolutely fucking not, Drysdale."

He just shrugged, and you went straight home.

After a few weeks, Ransom started growing on you. On a particularly rough morning, when a client was being a pain on your and Ransom's existences, he brought you coffee after noticing you were on the verge of crying.

"Don't let it get to you, Y/N. God knows I don't." He offered with a tight smile. You were too tired to make a snarky comment about him being an actually decent human being, so you just sipped on your coffee before you went full sobbing.

Those damned female hormones.

Ransom cleared his throat.

"Ok, this is awkward." He clarified. Between crying and sniffing, you weren't really surprised at how emotionally stunted Ransom was. 

It was comical. He stood there, not knowing what to do. And then, he patted your head.

He actually patted your head. Like you were a fucking dog. You were so stunned at the gesture that you didn't even realize it when you started laughing.

You threw your head back, new tears forming on your eyes. You laughed so hard that your tummy hurt.

Ransom laughed with you too. Like genuinely laughing. Who would say such a thing could happen?

You rolled over, grabbing your front and trying to catch your breath.

You didn't notice, but you started growing on him too.

Your work dynamics with Ransom were almost perfect. You finally felt like you could trust him to do some work on his own, so you let him be on some paperwork while you finished others.

The weather began to get chilly by the end of your office hours and Ransom invited you to his place to get over a file again, to which you stupidly agreed. So you followed his car, getting a little anxious.

When he finally pulled over, you were quite surprised at how cozy the two-story house looked. It wasn't something you expected for a single man. 

He even had a white fence!

He smiled at you when you walked through the door, taking in the dim lights, the fireplace in the living room, and his big kitchen. You wondered if he cooked his own meals.

"Wine?" He offered, already pouring a bottle of some expensive delicacy you've never tasted. You only bought cheap drinks, maybe too worried to spend so much money on such a frivolous thing after how you struggled financially growing up.

"Just a glass, I don't wanna get dizzy." You accepted the glass in his extended hand and took a little sip.

You never even read the file you were supposed to.

Ransom started to babble about how he bought this home after passing the bar exam, excited to start a new journey in his life, where he could be his own person and have something he achieved for himself, instead of working with his grandfather for the rest of his life.

Listening to his life story, his fucked up family, and how he self-doubted he could actually succeed without their money and connections made you feel a little more sympathetic toward him.

Because while you resented him for having the life you only dreamed of, his privileges got in his way of flourishing. And despite all of your struggles, you had loving parents that nurtured you into the woman you were now.

"Do you know I used to despise you?" You let the words slip off your mouth before you could stop them. "You infuriated me. I hated how carefree you were in college because you could fail and you would still have new opportunities. It was my only chance. I worked so hard, and then I saw you at the firm and..."

He looked at you, expectantly.

"I doubted you. And after Emma stated that the promotion was for me or you, and you began to make my work hours a living hell, I even contemplated looking for another job."

Ransom scoffed.

"I wasn't that bad."

"Say that to my knees, Ransom."

He chuckled. 

"If it makes it better, I didn't think you were going to get hurt."

You lifted your brown and sipped on your wine, emptying the glass. He reached for the bottle to pour more, but you stopped him by putting your hand over his. His eyes moved to yours, and then to your lips.

He didn't hesitate when your lips reached for his, eager and passionate. Your body began moving to its own accord, straddling his lap on the leather couch, his hands on your waist, groping your ass, on the back of your neck pulling your hair to leave a trail of wet kisses on your jaw, neck, collarbones...

You yelped when he ripped your white blouse, buttons flying everywhere. He cupped your breasts over your bra, savoring your beautiful body over him.

"You have no idea of how much I fantasized about this, Y/N" His breath fanned your ear, and he sucked on your earlobe, almost taking your earring off. You let out a little gasp when his hands reached under your skirt. "I always knew the promotion was yours. But seeing you mad was such a turn-on."

Your eyes shot open. You crossed your arms over your chest.

"I wasn't just mad, Drysdale. I was having the worst time of my life since college! I can't believe you right now" You got off his lap easily, and he didn't try to stop you.

"Don't be like that, Y/N, I already apologized-" He started, but you cut him off quickly:

"And just because you said your sorry words it means everything is fixed, uh?" You scoffed at him, grabbing your bag on the kitchen counter. "See you on Monday, asshole."

You stormed off his house, ready to drown in regret for kissing him. 

Because now that you did, you couldn't get the tingling feeling off your lips and the longing for more.

You were dreading the moment you'd have to get up from your bed and go to work. The weekend went by really quick, but also really slow (the waves of anxiety tormenting your thoughts were responsible for that).

Monday morning, after brushing your teeth angrily, sipping on your tea angrily, and almost tearing the zipper of your favorite pencil skirt, you took a breath and asked yourself why you were so worried. Ransom wasn't really that important (except he was, and not even you could deny it for much longer).

You were angry at yourself. That night you were at his place, drank his wine, and also, you made the first move. When have you become so bold? 

And then, you snapped at him and had to become sexually frustrated too.

It's like I hate myself or something, you thought, grabbing the designer bag Emma gave you on your birthday and putting your belongings in it.

Maybe I should just quit, move to another country and start a new life. Okay, you were being too dramatic, but how could you face him now?

You weren't brazen like Ransom. For all you knew about him, he could kick a puppy on the street and go on with his life like nothing happened later. 

But you? You calculated your life at the smallest details, meticulously navigating through all your milestones and you never strayed. You tried to be the nicest person on the earth, because life was already hard as it was. You couldn't just snap one day and let it all go down to drain.

"Why that face, Y/N?" One of your colleagues asked when you entered the building. You bit the remark on your tongue and just said you had too much to drink the night before.

Jesus. You had a resting bitch face. Should you get botox?

Almost getting lost in your thoughts (you couldn't really ignore the anxiousness at the bottom of your stomach, threatening to spill back the contents of your breakfast), you got in the elevator, pressed the button to your floor, and let your back rest against the metal doors.

The door opened, and your gaze lowered to your black scarpins. Ransom cleared his throat, mouthing a low "good morning". You held your breath when his cologne filled your nostrils. It seemed ten times stronger now, hitting you with vengefulness.

Why did he have to smell so good? You never noticed a man's perfume before, they all seemed pretty much the same to you, and you never noticed Ransom's either until recently.

Until you were straddling his lap, getting intoxicated by it.

"Did someone steal your teddy bear or something?" He asked abruptly, turning to face you. "Can we not be awkward right now?"

"It's too late for that." You replied in a weird voice, shifting the weight of your feet to the other. Ransom rolled his eyes.

"And why the hell are you so pale? When was the last time you ate?"

You pinched the bridge of your nose in your thumb and index finger. You just ate, he's just being an asshole, Y/N, you reminded yourself.

"Are you seriously gonna pretend I'm not talking to you right now? How can you-"

"Ransom, SHUT UP!" You yelled, surprising you both with the tone of your voice. "Sorry, I just- can we not do this right now?"

He sighed. When you reached the floor of your office, Ransom went first, stomping his feet. You almost smiled, he was such a child. 

As he walked in front of you, you couldn't help but notice his peachy bottom.

"Were you checking me out just right now?"

"Yeah, you could use some squats." You stopped daydreaming and replied in a sassy tone, putting your bag on your desk and crossing your arms on your chest. Your eyes reached his and your expression softened. "Look, Ransom, I'm so sorry about that night. I shouldn't have done that, I'm so mortified. That was really uncalled for. And unprofessional. I understand if you want to go to HR and get me a complaint." You word-vomited, speaking so fast that if he wasn't paying attention he wouldn't get a thing of what you just said.

His eyes widened and he gave you a short, humorless laugh.

"Why the hell would I do that to you, woman? I was giving you signs the whole evening. I wanted that for so long, and I'm so fucking mad at you right now for apologizing for the wrong reason!"

"Ransom, I-" You tried to reason, but he cut you off.

"No, you shut your fucking mouth now, Y/N. I even gave you space because I didn't want you to feel pressured or anything. Do you have any idea how many times I tried to text just to never press 'send'? And now you apologize for kissing me? You should apologize for leaving me with a damn boner-"

"Lower your voice!" You half whispered half yelled at him, looking around to see if anyone heard what he said. His jaw clenched, and he got closer to you. When you were face to face, he punctuated in a low tone:

"I'm tired of your bullshit. Do you think having your whole life planned will get you everything you want? I see a frustrated woman who can't let her guard down and can't even get laid".

His breath was mixing with yours, words cruelly spit, and you felt your nostrils flare with anger. He kept going as if he didn't humiliated you enough:

"It's actually for the best. You're probably a bad fuck, anyway."

You turned on your heels with balled fists on your sides and chose to ignore him, otherwise, you would really give him a reason to go to HR.

The two of you were back to square one. He would be a little shit to you, and you would try your best not to punch his face. You were glad he was your protégée and not the other way around - you didn't like to think what he could do to you in a position of power.

On lunch break, you got yourself a salad with grilled chicken, not really hungry. As you sat to eat with one of your work friends at the restaurant across the street from the building, you spotted Ransom talking to a woman from another floor. She was twisting one of her locks in her finger and laughing at something he was saying. You rolled your eyes, scoffing, and went back to eat your salad.

"He's so hot" Lizzie sighed, daydreaming. "How can you work with him and not be head over heels?"

"Just talk to him for a minute and you'll know why." You seethed and chewed on your lettuce.

"That lady over there seems quite fond of him." She went on, not picking on your mood shift. "Look at that nice piece of ass over there! And those muscles under those sweaters? I'd let him choke me to death with those arms".

"Please, shut up." You begged. "I'm about to throw up".

"Stop being a prude." She rolled her eyes at you. "Oh, that bitch is so lucky, she's probably thinking about-"

"Oh my God, Elizabeth, I'm not eating with you anymore." You interrupted her monologue and she eyed you curiously.

"What's your deal with him? You two slept together or something?" You didn't dignify her with an answer and her eyes widened. "Oh God! You totally did-"

"Shush!" You pressed your index finger on her lips. "We didn't, but we kissed. And this conversation is over. I refuse to talk about it ever again."

You must've sound really serious, because she actually dropped the subject.

With a blink of your eye, the week was over. Your interactions with Ransom were getting more mechanical and since you showed no interest in engaging with his childish games he stopped disturbing your peace.

Lizzie respected your wish to not talk about Ransom for longer than you expected, just bringing the topic once to coerce you to go out with her Friday night.

And that was the reason you were wearing a shiny pink bodycon dress with thin straps and white high heels, in a long ass line to get inside a shady dance club. Lizzie was talking nonstop in your ear, and you just listened, bored and in need of a drink.

When you finally got in, she dragged you to a booth and ordered cocktails for you two.

"Let's get you loosened up to drop the constipated face!" She yelled over the music and you glared at her angrily, sipping on your glass and probably making a face.

"What the hell?" You weren't drinking that. God, that was so disgusting, whatever that drink was made of it was fucking terrible. You got up to the bar to get something else, and then, you saw him.

Ransom was sitting with his friends and with a pretty brunette stuck on his side, almost on his lap. He must've felt your gaze on him, because he turned his head and he locked eyes with you.

Fuck.

Okay, you weren't a coward. You could play it cool. Breaking eye contact, you went to the bar and ordered a piña colada, and as you were waiting for your drink, you felt someone's hand touching your arm.

Sighing, you looked back, ready to fight the asshole who was touching you without your permission.

Your jaw almost dropped when you saw Ransom with a smirk on his face.

"Are you alone?"

"Yeah, haven't you heard? I'm a terrible fuck." You grinned and he laughed, his cheeks a beautiful shade of pink, probably from drinking.

"One of my buddies over there asked if you were single."

"Oh. I'm not interested" you stated.

"Don't worry, I told him that you have gonorrhea."

Your blood boiled.

"What? Are you insane, Drysdale? I'm going to fucking sue you, you stupid son of a bitch!" You index finger were on his face and he broke in a fit of laughter, his hand resting on his stomach.

"I'm just kidding, god, your face!" He managed to say between his stupid giggles. You rolled your eyes and went to the booth to find Lizzie.

How could someone be so insufferable? It was like a gift.

"I'm offended that you didn't like my drink." Lizzie pouted at you, already drunk. Yeah, you could see how the night was going to end. You holding her hair while she emptied her stomach on the toilet.

"Girl, take it easy." You rolled your eyes. "You won't believe who I just saw".

"Mr. Drysdale?"

"Yeah, how did you know? Oh." You barely finished your sentence and she moved her head, pointing to him, sitting in front of you in your booth. "You don't fucking give up, do you?"

"Can we talk?"

"No!"

"Yes."

You looked at Lizzie, feeling betrayed. She got up and left you alone with him, that little bitch.

"Okay, Drysdale, humor me."

"I miss you?"

"It sounds like a question, not an statement." You shook your head to him. "And don't you have an arm candy waiting for you over there?"

The girl he was with minutes ago stared at you with bitterness, her crimson red lips curled in a thin line.

His eyebrow rose. "Am I detecting a hint of jealousy?"

"In your dreams, Drysdale. Just thought you'd like to go back to her, since she's marching over here looking royally pissed."

When Ransom turned his head to look, she was already throwing her drink on his face.

"You are the worst date ever!" She screamed and left, stomping her feet like she was throwing a tantrum.

Serves him right for going out with a girl that barely looked old enough to drink.

You folded your arms over your chest and smiled at him. His hair was wet, and the drink was dripping from his chin, also wetting his shirt.

You were wrong, going out tonight was totally worth it.

Somehow, you, Lizzie and Ransom left the club together.

Well, more like he was helping you carry the woman and get her taken care of.

Without complaining (for your surprise), Ransom secured Lizzie in his arms while she threw up on the street outside of the club whilst you held her hair; got an Uber for you guys and helped you put her in the backseat; picked her up bridal style while you searched for her keys on her JW Pei bag; tuck her in bed gently while you got a glass of water and aspirin for her and left them on her nightstand.

You two mumbled good night to Lizzie, and she replied in drunk gibberish. 

When you left her apartment, you locked the door on the outside and slipped the key back inside under it. 

And just like that, you two were alone, and you suddenly became aware of that and the silence.

Ransom's hair was a little messy, but you never thought of him so handsome as he was in that moment. His blue eyes bored into yours like a silent plead.

You wondered if you two would ever understand each other.

It seemed like hours, but only seconds have passed. His body got closer to yours, and he grabbed your middle, pulling you into him. You let out a little whimper when his forehead rested into yours, noses touching.

"Please, don't run away now." He begged, his voice hoarse. His skin was a little sticky, probably from the sugary drink thrown on him earlier.

You answered by claiming his lips with yours.

You moaned softly, feeling your lips swollen. Ransom kissed you breathless, unlocking his front door and dragging you inside with him. He pulled you by the back of your thighs to straddle his hips and squeezed your ass cheeks roughly. The hem of your mini dress was already rolled up to your stomach, giving him free access.

You knew you wouldn't be able to get to his bedroom.

He lowered you into his leather couch, taking his shirt off the next second. You bit your lip while taking him in - he looked like a damn god. 

Fuck my life, you thought.

Driven by lust, you grabbed him by his belt and clumsily unbuckled it, cussing at it. He chuckled lowly and helped you, lowering his jeans of his toned legs along with his boxers. You felt your mouth water at the sight of his cock: long, thick, hard and leaking for you.

You looked at him through your eyelashes and moistened him with your saliva, rolling your tongue sinfully on the red tip while he watched you with a clenched jaw, using his hands to put your hair on a ponytail.

"You did not learn how to suck dick like a pro until after college, that's for sure." He mocked you, and you pinched the inside of his thigh. Ransom hissed at you, and completed: "''Cause you were too busy studying to practice thiiiiis-" He moaned, curling his toes when you finally took him in your mouth the best you could. 

You felt your panties getting wetter and your jaw ache. You bobbed your head, slowly at first, getting used to his thickness. Your dominant hand jerked the rest of him off, and the other grabbed his butt to force him deeper into your throat.

You drooled all over your chin, feeling tears prick on your eyes when he picked up the pace and face-fucked you. You gagged and tried your best to breathe through your nose, while Ransom let the dirtiest sequence of curses leave his mouth.

He stopped the assault on your throat abruptly, and lift your body up by your hair slowly.

"I'm gonna cum on that sweet mouth some other time, I need to be inside of you now." He sat you on the couch and pulled your dress off your body.

He kissed you again, impatient this time, lowering his hand to your panties and ripping them. He threw the destroyed lace on the floor and rubbed his fingers on your slickness, lubricating his fingers. He slipped one inside of you and you moaned at the entrance, massaging his tongue with yours.

He added another finger and curled them inside of you, earning a gasp from you. You screamed when Ransom started scissoring you in a fast pace, unprepared for it. Your high was building fast, and you came on his fingers, getting his hand wet with your juices.

"Fuck fuck fuck" You cried out when he didn't stop, convulsing again and sobbing on his mouth. He retreated his fingers from you and laid you on the couch, then stroked his cock with his hand, rubbing the tip on your clit. You moaned and he sank on you, making you tense with the intrusion.

Slowly, he bottomed you out. He grabbed your hips, and your legs wrapped around him, urging him to move.

He moved back.

And slammed back in.

You cried out in surprise, while he fastened his pace and fucked you good. 

"Yes baby, this fucking cunt is mine now." He groaned and rubbed your clit with his thumb, snapping his hips into yours. "Say it".

"It's yours-oh God-" You cried out. Ransom showed you no mercy while he fucked you, making your insides burn and build that familiar coil again. His hips snapped into yours with vengeance, making your eyes roll back on your skull. No sound left your mouth when you came again, shaking. Ransom pulled out and came on your stomach, making the sexiest sounds you've ever heard from a man before.

He fell on your side, calming his breathing. Ransom threw his arm around you and kissed your temple gently.

"We're gonna take a bath and find out a way to tell Emma that we're a thing now". 

You smiled, closing your eyes and hoping he would carry you to that bath, because there's no way you could walk now.

[drdemonprince]

This might be a strange ask but since you are/have been a instructor/professor/teacher/whatever is it worth it to deal with the cliqueness, classism and other general baggage of academia if the only want you would have would be the ability to teach other people? I would love to be able to teach as a profession but at the same time I want to be able to teach for people who aren't forced to attend classes against their will (which is where my apprehension would be teaching high school vs post-secondary).

I think if your goal is to teach people who are there to learn completely of their own volition, becoming a college professor is not gonna do it for you. A majority of people who attend school do so under circumstances of economic and social coercion, don't have their heart in it, are not well suited to the highly constrained university environment, and lack much control over which courses they get to take anyway.

You will not generally find a passionate, autonomous population of learners at any university or college. Instead you'll find people who are doing what they have been told to do all their lives by everyone around them, people who feel that they have no other choice but to attend, and the idle rich who generally don't value the enterprise of learning or take it seriously. You'll also most likely be very broke and not ever get a full-time job.

As a full-time professor, I am a statistical aberration. I got lucky, frankly, because a former head of my academic department got a random budget line and he wanted to surround himself with pretty young women, so he offered a full-time position to a blonde big-titted 30-year-old who had been working part-time for him for years. and after that budget line was erased upon his departure, that big titted 30 year old managed to finagle a lasting position for himself, and become a man. If that random bolt of luck hadn't hit, I would still be teaching from 9am to 10pm every day on three different campuses for like $40,000 a year combined, with no insurance, and battling laryngitis all the time. My students were mostly exhausted, broke, and desperate to escape their circumstances as well, and had been sold a lie that taking on tens of thousands of dollars in student loan debt would be the escape route for them.

I think if you want the experience of teaching people who full-throatedly love the subject they are studying and are making the free choice to learn, you'll have to think of a way to reach people autonomously, free from institutional constraints and economic pressures. That's unlikely to pay well. But being an adjunct (and the majority of college instructors are part-time adjuncts!) doesn't pay well at all either.

Generally, I'd encourage people not to make decisions about their long-term financial wellbeing based on their passions, and instead to find some tenable way of paying the bills that demands relatively little of them and allows them to funnel their energy elsewhere.

[coolgirl32]

Chalk dust and secrets

Chapters 1/4. Summary: you don't know how you got yourself into this position and you don't know when but one thing you do know is that you are willing to do whatever it takes. Ever since you can remember you've always hated Vander it wasn't because of his attitude or if he was a bad person to be honest he was actually a nice guy and yeah he had a little bit of an attitude but it wasn't bad what made you hate him though was because he was rich and he was very popular with everyone including the ladies and what made it worse was that he got a higher score in every test and academic studies this has gone on for as long as you can remember even when you were just a little girl and you always did study really hard to make sure you got A's and enough education so you can become successful so you don't have to worry about finances but of course Vander always came up top first hey didn't even have to study hard he just got A's and the reason for that is because his parents own the school and are incredibly rich which means without him studying or trying he gets A's for free and you and the other students that are in your class and school just have to work extremely hard and at home wasn't so easy either your dad left your mom and you when you were only 5 years old and your mom had to take care of you and throughout all the years of you being in school and your mom working your mom ended up working so hard that she ended up getting sick and what made it worse was that your deadbeat horrible excuse of a man and father left a huge debt and so you and your mom kept on being harassed by a bunch of loan sharks eventually your mom sadly passed away and you had to take care of everything on your own thankfully you were only 19 now you're 20 years old and you're still trying to pay your dad's debt so not only do you have debt to pay but you also have bills to pay as well, which leads to you here now you are at your new job that will not only pay you well but it would also mean that you'll pay for your bills and made sure that the loan sharks won't mess with you for a month or so unfortunately the person that you're working with would be Vander apparently his parents own the company that you're working at this could be fun for both of you.

Hey y/n was it I can't believe we're working together pretty amazing huh 😁

He said enthusiastically you are not expecting him to act so nice to you it wasn't like he was mean to you it was just that you two rarely talk to each other back when you were both teenagers so of course without being rude and you don't want to lose your job you decided to be polite as well.

oh um yeah that's my name and neither can I hehe so um I'm supposed to get a tour around the building just to get to know the place so I know what I'm supposed to be doing here

oh of course I'm actually the one who is going to give you the tour and if you want I can also show you a good time 😉

And there it was the flirting is what mostly got on your nerves about Vander you know he's not a bad guy but he still it's on your nerves whenever he flirts with you or with any other girl but mostly you this has of course happened before multiple times during high School and then college and now today on your first day of the job of course the tour went on smoothly he showed you the cafeteria where your desk is he even introduced you to the rest of the co-workers you got to say the place wasn't so bad maybe this day could get better.

The next day when you went to work Vander would be his usual self trying to flirt with you and trying to ask you out on a date and of course you'd always decline and as always Vander would laugh it off, of course this continued throughout the whole week and the whole month until one day Vander stopped you from doing your work and asked for you and him to exchange numbers so you gave him your phone number and he gave you his just for him to get off your back and then he went back to work you hope this would be the end of it but no you were wrong.

To be continued.

[laele25]

To expound on my rant I began last night

If you refused to vote for Harris, you have doomed Palestine and Ukraine, and possibly eastern Europe. Trump has already said he will give Bibi what he wants and won't stand in Putin's way. He wanted to leave NATO last time, this time no one will stop him from doing it. Then Putin will invade Poland and we get to do war in Europe all over again. Oh goody. Once again, history in America is often taught by gym teachers and that might explain why most of my countrymen don't recognize a fascist regime when it's goosestepping towards them.

There will be no student loan forgiveness. Hell, expect to pay more in interest since you know they'll be trying to claw back the profits they lost during the Covid freeze and Biden's attempt to offer some relief. Kiss the SAVE act good-bye.

And the tariffs. For those of you still suffering under the delusions of 'Republicans are better on the economy', he added 8 trillion to National Debt you all hate so much last time. You think he's not going to give himself and his cronies a bigger tax cut this time? Everything will be more expensive, because rich guys like him exported manufacturing to foreign countries decades ago so they could pay starvation wages. And about that. Don't be surprised if they decrease minimum wage or do away with it completely. But hey, Trump promised to not tax tips. You know, because anybody is going to have any money for anything after prices on essentials like food triple. The Supreme Court is lost unless Biden goes nuclear and expands the court by four people. Which I don't see happening, because Democrats have repeatedly proven they can't learn from their mistakes. They will sit on their hands until January 6th, then surrender because 'peaceful transfer of power'.

You think infrastructure is bad now? Just wait. They're going to build their big, beautiful wall and let everything else crumble to dust while contractors fight for big checks to do minimal work. And for all you people who see Trump as the 'no new wars' president, I need to explain to you something. Congress declares war, not the president. So if the defense contractors aren't making enough money from the genocide of the Palestinians and the war on Ukraine, you can expect American boots be sent somewhere to terrorize some brown or black people for profit. And Trump can't do a thing about it, especially as all our generals hate him. About that. They hate him, they control all the guns and armor and he's tried to disenfranchise them and threatened to order them to murder American citizens. So a military coup is a possibility. This is not a good thing either. Military coups do not have a good history of 'restoring democracy'. And speaking of coups, all the Jan. 6 rioters will be pardoned and probably given medals next year. Expect the day to become a holiday in the Trump Riech where MAGAts walk to the capital to shit all over the democracy we once had again.

Oh and don't forget he promised us the Purge of people protesting him in any way. Can't have a fascist regime without a police state and suppressing of freedoms.

And of course, since he plans to dismantle the department of education and the EPA, so be sure to tell your kids how it was far more important to vote for a doddering old white man who promised to make them rich than for them to have an education or clean air and water.

So, all in all, the American experiment has failed miserably and the world is lucky, we won't drag it down with us. History doesn't bode well there either. Get your vaccines while they're still covered by insurance and available. Get long term birth control or sterilized, because banning birth control is also big on their agenda.

[toomuchsky]

got a new car. having a lot of feelings abt it that i’m journaling abt on tumblr instead of processing internally. (lots of very privileged Big Money Feelings fair warning) but also look at him. momo. 🥹🥹🥹

basically after the insane amt of car troubles the last car gave me and the extra 4k it was asking from me in repairs, my dad finally was like “can you let me help you” and offered to help me buy out the loan on appa. one contingency was that i had to buy a new car, not anything used. so my car payment basically more than doubled, but i do have a car now that can take me from point a to point b and will hopefully ! not break down on me anytime soon. (with my luck tho who knows). i also still have the credit card debt from the engine but he was like “do your best to pay it off but if there is a difference at the end of the 0% apr period well see what i can help with”

i’m having! weird feelings abt it! lots of shame around having to accept money from my parents, lots of guilt around having parents that can afford to do this, also a lot of like. relief right?? i have a car that works! and he’s cute!

but also new cars freak me out dude. cars should all be dumber in my opinion. why is there an ipad on a vehicle that i can also drive at 90mph??? why is it yelling at me to brake leave me alone let me brake on my own terms!!! and every single thing is electronics. and they break so often and are so expensive to fix!! and everything these days is built to break!!! it makes me so mad and angry!!!!

but also on the other hand! i feel like i understand every single rich person neuroses now. every single speck of dust on this car is tantamount to a dent on another car. if i even scratch this car i’ll be so sad bc it’s NEW! she has 10 MILES ON HER. and there’s too many features!!! how am i supposed to learn them all!! feeling very old man yells at cloud abt it all!!! like normally i am also very generous with my car! i’ll let people drive it i don’t care etc but with this one i’m feeling extremely like don’t even breathe on him actually please don’t even look in his direction. like i’m feeling insane. u know that monopoly study they do where people become more stingy the richer they get. that’s how i’m feeling.

also having some feelings about what a new car like this looks like to people idk. like what will people perceive me as???? like this wasn’t my choice!!! tbf the car market is still insane and even a slightly used car would be abt the same price tbh but. feeling like i need to process these feelings with everyone so that no one judges me for having a new car or feels weird abt my parents having the ability and willingness to help me out here. like i understand this is mostly projection bc IM feeling weird about it and wealth (lol at the thought of wealth. i’m like 40k in debt not including student loans at 29 which feels insane.) and all that but.

he’s smaller than a lot of the suv’s i’ve had before but honestly probably enough size!!!! also the car payment is so much and idk how i’m gonna afford it for 6 years. i love him so much i can’t wait to go on a million road trips now that i can trust my car won’t break down on me in the middle of the road AGAIN. i also wanna throw up whenever i look at him. i love feeling safe and cozy and playing with all the new features. if it gives me a lane warning again i’ll blow it up myself.

dualities man. here we are.

[maguro13-2]

Juliana : Hey, look. About what happened...

Carmine : Don't hey look me. Where in the world is the rest of the money?

Juliana : Couldn't we just talk this out? I have no idea what you're talking about?

Carmine : I'm talking about the allowence, the money that you want buy thing in-app purchases?

Juliana : The gacha industry sure has something to do with it. You got it all wrong, this was some kind of mix up from the gacha industry. I used some of it, but I used it for the other apps like the Pokemon Go app?

Carmine : (suspiciously) You did what, you little sh-[beep]?!

Juliana : Wait! Wait! I can sort this out! I can explain it to you! It was a misundersta-

*Throws Juliana against the wall*

Juliana : Ahh! Hey!

[BGM : Vitrifaction Fire by Michiru Yamane]

Carmine : I told you not to spend all of it. I demand to know how much you charge on my phone!

Juliana : Please! Carmine! I just wanted to play some Pokemon Masters, I haven't gotten the glory and the fun.

Carmine : Why did I tell you about gambling on stuff on my phone!? I need those bills to pay off my student loans and I told you not to go ballistic and touch my stuff! Where is my money!?

Juliana : Please, Carmine! What's wrong with Pokemon Masters?! Every Trainer or Fan on the Planet wants to be addicted to these games we made-

*THUMP*

Juliana : Ah!

Carmine : I was only making a fortune and do you know how it costs me a leg, an arm, or even costing to sell our souls for one Lousy gacha!?

Juliana : It was a limited time offer! Please, let's not-

*hitting sounds*

Juliana : Ow! Stop smacking me! I'm sorry, Carmine! I said I was sorry! I only wanted the money! Please! I promise!

Carmine : Listen here, you worm. All money is worth of saving my funds for my degree, I've saved this money for the festivals, the battled, and the prizes I win. Do you know what this means?

Juliana : What does it mean it to you anyway...?

Carmine : It means...I'm gonna make you pay back.

Juliana : Alright! Alright! I'll pay you back! I promise! I'll pay you back! I swear! I won't do it again. I promise to pay those bills! Take all my riches!

*takes out her riches*

Juliana : Well it's official!

*later*

Carmine in bed : Now this is what being rich feels like.

Juliana in bed : Oh man, I never thought this would happen.

Nemona : What the-? What's going on here? What are you doing in bed?

Carmine : What? You're not the boss of me, I feel like a rich person.

Nemona : Come on, that was not entirely our decision and that decision paid me off! I could've sworn we had eyes on the wealth balance. But seriously, I paid her dearly into battle for a plate of grilled cheese on the table.

Juliana : Yawn. *pulls out sword*

Nemona : AW MOTHERF-!

(next take)

Brock : Hey there guys. Look I know about spending our money on the Pokemon Masters App thing. You see? We trainers have been saving our money to make a couple of few, and we are not going ballistic and had to go cold turkey. Luckily, I'm finally a wealthy business man and made a huge term of success.

Brock : I have a lovely wife and kids. We had some minor details with Ash in the past years and he hasn't come back since after this retirement. Just to get a hold of this... delicious banana liquor...OH MY GOD! I NEED IT SO BAD!

*starts drinking the liquor ballistic*

Brock : This is delicious! I need more! I NEED MORE! GET INSIDE ME-!

*later*

Misty : Hey, Brock. Ash says something about the Pokemon Masters App. And he told us that we forgot to pay off these bills right now.

*MGS EXCLAMATION MARK*

Misty : Brock! Have you been drinking again?!

Brock : What? No can do, swimmer. I think the Pokemon Masters App is literally soul-crushing but having a drunken haze makes you look good on the outside.

Misty : Grow up, Brock. You know you don't have a license for drinking stuff like that. What's with these girlsv

Brock : Oh don't you remember? I had drinking any booze and had a wild party going on.

*MGS EXCLAMATION MARK*

Brock : Oh...! Damn it! Damn it!

Misty : (sighing) And there goes another friendship.

[non-humans-anonymous]

Intro post

Hello! This is an OC ask blog for one of my main OC universes :]

Basic story info:

This is a modern world that takes place in a college setting. There are several species of non-humans, but they were largely hunted by humans a long time ago and now live in hiding. Only a fraction of the population is non-humans today, and most humans believe they're all extinct. Our main cast are majorly non-human (with one human out of 7 characters) and they're all hiding it from each other. Antics ensue.

Below the cut are some basic character descriptions!

Basic character descriptions:

Castiel, otherwise known as Cassie or Cass, is an elf. He comes from a very rich family, but he's very punk and anti-establishment in his beliefs. In his spare time he makes a lot of his own accessories, and he wants to learn to make his own clothes. It took a lot of hard work to convince his parents to allow it, but he’s in college for music. Masculine words and pronouns are preferred, but he's also happy with gender neutral terms. He's a gay, somewhat genderqueer guy.

Logan is also an elf. Being Cassie’s adopted sister, she does also have access to some of his families wealth, though not nearly as much as Castiel himself. “Traumatic childhood” is an understatement, and she has a Bernese mountain service dog named Alfonso. Her and Cassie truly see each other as siblings, but Cassie’s parents see her as a burden. She’s a very active person who loves to box and do various forms of martial arts. All she’s really trying to accomplish right now is finding ways to improve her mental health and quality of life. She’s sapphic and a trans woman.

Mack is a werewolf with a large immediate family consisting of 11 people (including himself). 8 siblings is a lot, especially as the oldest, but he wouldn't trade them for the world. 6 of his siblings are adopted, and seeing what that has been like for them has inspired him to become a social worker to try and help other kids in similar situations. Overworked and stressed out of his mind, it’s shocking that he manages to hold onto his golden retriever demeanor. He's demiromantic and a trans dude.

Riley is a witch. While she doesn't have any living blood relatives, she does have 2 cats that she sees as her babies (who I currently have yet to name). She lives comfortably off of a large inheritance she received from her late grandmother. Fashion is her greatest passion in life, and her greatest goal is to make the scene more accessible to plus sized people. She's a lesbian cis woman.

Kade is an alien. His planet is very different from earth, but when he was sent with a research group to learn more about our planet he became really attached and decided to stick around. Loneliness is a persistent feeling for him, coming from a much smaller family than usual on his home planet, so his main goal on earth is to make friends that feel like family. While he really doesn’t need to go to college due to his excessive intelligence, he’s there to fulfill his goal. He’s aroace and agender, he primarily uses he/him pronouns but is also happy with they/it.

Bix is a human with a lot of part time jobs. It’s more difficult than he expected to become a model, and even more difficult to make consistent income that way, so he’s pivoted to part time work while trying to become a high fashion designer. His father worked a well paying job that unfortunately let him go after an accident that caused him to be wheelchair bound, and Bix has been doing his best to keep everything moving since. All he wants is to live comfortably again. He’s a bisexual cis man (although it takes him a while to realize he isn’t straight).

Levi is a vampire. Coming out as gay to his conservative parents wasn’t in the plans, rough time for them to come home early, and it went about as poorly as he expected. Now he doesn’t have to deal with them! But he does have to deal with student loans and part time jobs. He wants to become a gallery artist, and while classical painting is his main passion he does also enjoy poetry and other forms of writing. “Pretentious” isn’t how he’d describe himself, but it’s how others might describe him. He’s a gay cis man.

Character relationships:

Graphic design is my passion /sar

Important note: these designs are not at all remotely finalized

My other blogs:

@crimsoncadaver (My main blog, this mainly consists of fandoms and politics. This blog is 18+)

@delineateddepths (My main art blog)

[shawnjacksonsbs]

Because my mind wouldn't let it go . . .bonus entry. Let me know if I missed anything. I typed, very quickly. Lol

Everyone does have the same 24 hours each day, but where you start your race from matters more. 1-28-25

"Wealth taxes are meant to move society in the opposite direction, that of promoting equality" - Jomo Sundaram

Everyone does have the same 24 hours in the day as everyone else.

That's correct.

Too bad they don't all have the same opportunities from day one as everyone else, huh?

I'd have to be pretty naive to think those 24hrs are the same for someone born addicted to Crack because after the mom was denied an abortion for a pregnancy that was the result of a rape, she went off the deep end because being high was better than reliving the trauma in her mind. Numb is key, but I digress. About the baby. . .

That baby shares a birthday with a kid who is born to a multi-million dollar parents, and he starts his life off with the finest and best doctors and hospitals in the area that money can buy.

The one kid living in the worst neighborhood grows up ducking and dodging gangs and gets most of his nutrition from free school meals.

The other kid goes to a private prep school because once again, only the best money can buy. Never a thought to if he gets to eat, only struggle is deciding what to eat for his meals because of all the choices.

The one kid, if he applies him self can end up in community college, or if he really applies himself, he can go to a university and owe an unreal amount for the student loan he got. Starts adulthood off in debt.

The other kid, even if only partially applies himself and ends up at his parents' alma mater, which, of course, is an Ivy League university. To think of all the opportunities just presented from people he knows at this school are worth their weight, but again if he applies himself even 1/2, does anyone believe he isn't presented with more options in the elites professions.

Man, all the options.

Now, back to the 1st kid, who is still wholly applying himself, it takes forever to pay off the student loan, but he finally does. Very little in savings and mid way through is life he can finally go apply for his first home loan.

The other kid, fresh outta school with no debt, actually has been collecting interest on a savings account his parents/grandpa started for him right after he was born and have been adding to it for years because, as we said he did kind if apply himself too so since the parents and grandparents were proud of his steps thru life kept adding. Now, the interest only is probably enough to live on if one wanted to do that, but he's going to invest, or create the next million dollar idea because they have money to try, and to lose, his parents his house and the grandparents bought him a new for graduating. So no car payment, no house payment, millions in the bank, and the world is his oyster. It's way easier to make money with money.

Now I could go on about how the 1st kid gets a "sick" a sick that takes him out of the work force and exhausts all health insurance avenues, and he loses everything and has to go move in with addicted mom who just got outta a prison. The state Medicaid program pays for some emergency room visits and some doctor appts and some medications, but all the necessary stuff to fight this disease and win, well. . .

The other guy got the same "sick" but not only could they fly him any where in the world, and pay for all the best treatments, doctors, and hospitals, they all literally stayed rich while doing it and he didn't lose any of his stuff and was first on the list for some experimental treatment in some other first world country and it cured him, and he returned to his life. More grateful, but still able to return.

Both these guys were good guys, one just had a bit more privilege, and from day one had more / better opportunities laid at his feet.

We could also talk about how race played apart or how back before people of color could vote, or before women could vote laws were passed that helped excel the one family forward, while simultaneously holding the other family back from certain advantages that could have actually led to some successes. Wanna play back and talk about those too?

How about a system that didn't directly hold back this first kid on purpose, or hand the second his privileges, but because of circumstances, each were dealt different starting hands. Your chances of winning that hand go up significantly when you automatically get dealt a royal flush so you don't need to bluff.

We all have the same 24 hrs, but where we start our race from and when and where our race is . . .fucking matters.

Finally, Eat the Rich. But do it in a kind way. Ask them if they'd like a society that isn't that hungry after all. Lol

Until next time;

"Equality is the soul of liberty; there is, in fact, no liberty without it." - Frances Wright

Btw, I think I believe that Classism is a bigger threat to our "democracy" than racism. Granted, parts of racism fall under the Classism umbrella to be sure, but only because underfunded and underprivileged people are mostly P.O.C. Both ways- not ok.

I do believe that racism, at least in our country, is a threat to our societial/universal . . . promotional self-esteem, public image(?).

I hate how we look to other 1st, and even 3rd world countries. As we're all what? over-weight, under-educated, racist, confederate flag waving, backwood hillbilly, wife-beatin w/ or w/o your drug addiction of choice, sprinkled with sexual predatorial charisma. As a whole people. It's embarrassing.

As the leading 1st world superpower, we're supposed to lead the world in all things that count. A leader looked upon with respect for all the hood we do for each other, and around the world. I don't believe that has looked like us for years now, and it only gets worse from here.

Instead of revered, its a mockery.

Just my thoughts. Heavy laden as they are. Lol

Albeit, I understand how it looks, me being an overweight, middle-aged, redneck, construction worker with a pickup. Lol

[containatrocity]

the prodigial son and only heir to the Chiyoda tech fortune, some claim Silas Chiyoda is something of a messiah, beckoning in a new era of tech advancement and a future something like a utopia- the Japan-Born Silicon Valley transplant claims he's a herald- but not of a golden age.

Cover Story By Milena Corbin, November 2018

It's a clean white mansion that greets the taxi that drops me off, modern and sleek with a family crest emblazoned on the gates. It's one of the many summer homes of Aoi Chiyoda, the owner and figurehead of tech powerhouse Chi-Hyu Technology, but it's not the 48 year old CEO and mastermind that I'm here to meet, and that much is made clear when my interviewee steps out of the house. He is asynchronous to the house that built him, dressed in black from head to toe with long dark hair pulled into a bun, struck through with pins bearing the visages of Japanese fox spirits, matching the dragons and koi swirling across his arms. Where Aoi demanded sleek, clean, chrome lines and white, granite blocks, his son perhaps has embraced the visual context of being a black sheep- something that tabloids have painted his history with since the now 22 year old was little more than a child.

A recluse of few words outside of parties and public appearances, Silas Chiyoda's position as a 'nepotism baby' is one he's acknowledged time and again, his vehement refusal to be someone people look up to often punctuated by lengthy, angry tirades on twitter- and typically- refusal to speak with the press. But today, he motions for me to follow him inside, past perfect marble floors and gold-inlaid furniture, to something that more correctly fits the man himself.

He makes himself at home in a beanbag chair under blacklight and neon, a bay of computers and monitors spread across one wall- a pile of schematics that he quickly hides on an opposite desk. It's only after the mouthpiece of a hookah pipe is hooked into the corner of his mouth that he allows me to speak to him at all, motioning one ring clad, dark-painted set of fingers as if to encourage me to 'get on with it'.

"I'd like to thank you, Mr. Chiyoda for taking the time out of your day to speak with us, from what I understand, you don't tend to like to speak to the press."

"I don't like to talk to tabloids. Given that you're here to talk about my work, I can make exceptions- I'm only 'famous' because of who my mother is, only rich because of my father. This focuses on the things I do that I actually care about."

"Yes, you and your father recently collaborated on an updated chipset for phones and computers that allows for more seamless communication between multiple devices, was this something important for you to achieve within the current space for smart devices?"

"Collaborated is quite the word for it- but yes, the chip I designed and we're seeking production on is intended to be upgradable for several years, eliminating a substantial amount of tech-waste in the industry, and allowing for less incidents with the strangely... quick obsolescence that comes from a lot of companies today- iPhone, Android, Windows- they'll all be using some form of our architecture, which will allow repair shops to work in a more comfortable, less proprietary space. A phone a year isn't sustainable for most people- this slows down the feeling that one has to update the moment a new piece of hardware releases, and simply requires a replacement chip."

"You seem very passionate about this, was it your father who got you invested in technology?"

"My father named me after his first ever operating system, the NEON. It was less that he shared an interest with me, and more that it was the one way to get him to pay any attention to me- now, of course, the eyes on me tend to be pretty set on watching me fuck up, including my father's- but I'm still rich, I'm still a genius, and most of my detractors will die drowning in student loan debt or forgotten by the annuls of time. Bad press is press nonetheless, and in some part I'm thankful for the distraction from my actual work, it's allowed me to kinda, control where my ideas and innovation go without people trying to throw money to me to make it theirs and theirs alone."

"So you want this to be available to as many people as possible?"

"I want my work to bury the bullshit that society's been barreling toward. Planned obsolescence, government surveillance, copyright claims burying hobbyists alive. I want to do one thing that slows the cogs down before the teeth tear themselves off and leave us grinding to a halt. Innovating only for the sake of money is destroying the planet, our rights to privacy, our ability to create- People insist that what my father does is the future, the way he pushes out the next big thing every quarter for another drop in the billion dollar bucket. I want it slowed down. We should perfect what we understand before inviting more ghosts into the system."

"So this isn't about reaching for the future for you, but suspending things in the now a little longer?"

"Think about it this way. Everyone who's ever lined up to kiss my ass on social media thinks I'm some kind of wizard, some cave-dweller with a thousand-point IQ and the ability to grant their wishes, but these assholes don't need an AI girlfriend who can interface with their smart kitchen, they need to get off their asses and learn a fucking skill for once in their lives. We are so hell bent on getting to the 'utopian future' that we've been promised we're ignoring the way we're sliding toward the other option. There are weaknesses in every system, and the more we try to make new systems, the more gaping holes are left behind- this is a bandaid on the hull of a sinking ship, and as soon as it comes crumbling down, the only people who are gonna take the blame are the people who don't deserve it. So let me state this simply: when we hit the point that makes Y2K's fearmongering look pitiful in comparison, it'll be on the head of my contemporaries, my father, and his boardroom of yes men. But not me. And not the people who inevitably work out how to hack your car, when you buy the Night Rider the second she rolls off the lot."

He's harsh and set in his ways, and the way he talks about technology, not like a blessing but a devil deal he's made and is now struggling to understand, is commonplace in his few public speaking appearances- something that's likely led to his father keeping his connection to Chi-Hyu rather hush hush- or his volatile public image, fraught with arrests, addiction, cycles in rehab, and highly publicized feuds with former girlfriends- many of them famous in their own regard, most recently seen paired off with the lead actress of Blood Ties- only to be arrested at her LA apartment after a domestic dispute ended in shots fired- Keeping him behind the scenes of a company reliant on the clinical white image of the mansion he's chosen to take this interview in. His stipulations for agreeing, of course, that I couldn't ask about the cycle of arrests and bail outs, about the girlfriends met in rehab easily twice his age- about his public fight with his father, the purple-gray scar on the side of his neck already covered up with a new tattoo of Eve's hands reaching for the apple of knowledge.

"Many people have stated that your father is going to usher in a golden era, technology pushed to its limits, it sounds a lot like you aren't in agreement."

"What good's a golden era for only the 1%? I could press a button and have a german sports car delivered to my garage. There are people on the sidewalks outside the high-end clothing stores I buy my wardrobe from begging for change to afford dinner, much less a house. We revolutionize. Fine. Surveillance will go to the richest. Corrupt industries will corrupt further, squeeze tighter for another drop of blood from a stone. My Father's a herald of something, but it's not a promised land. I'm a horseman of the apocalypse, a trumpeter signaling the end times, and nobody'll heed those warnings until it's too late- because for now I'm flashy and exciting, and my hard work gets you into a game of candy crush sooner. The future is now, you know? But it's gonna be a lot more Hal 9000 than people are willing to accept- my greatest sin is being honest about what me and all these other tech bro douchebags are up to- and being too smart for them to force me out of their boys clubs."

[hcneymilkks]

cw: 18+ MINORS DNI PLS

timeskip!

Sugardaddy! Kokonoi treating you out to a fancy restaurant with wine and a view of the city. He's gifted you with the sold out item you wanted, kissing your hands and saying you deserve the best treatment. Cue the same city skyline you see as you arch your back and grip the sheets as he fucks into you so well. Clothes and bags thrown all over the floor. Fuck it, he'll even fuck you from behind on your knees facing the balcony.

The next morning he's all domestic, kissing your forehead and making you coffee, smugly looking at all the marks he's given. Eyes going up and down and you know he's going for another round.

[holylulusworld]

Forbidden Lust - Kinktober 5

Summary: Your stepmother is the worst. But her fiancè is worth your time.

Rating: Explicit

Kinktober Special: homewrecker kink

Square filled Square 7 for @anyfandomkinkbingo​: Office Sex

Pairing: Stepdad(CEO)!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: cheating, angst, jealousy, awful stepmother, sexual tension, smut, unprotected sex, quickie, kinda stepcest (they are not related by blood), dirty talk, possessive Bucky, homewrecker kink

A/N: Please be aware of the warnings. This kink is not for everyone. Also, there is more plot than expected.

Words: 2,3 k

Kinktober 2022

AFG KINK BINGO masterlist

“Another one?” you ask the blonde eyeing your colleague up and down. He dips his head as you clear your throat to get his attention. “Do you want another drink? You know, my colleague is not on the menu.”

“Engagement parties, I hate them,” he turns his back on the people at the party to look at you. “So, you’re working here or-“

“What does it look like? I’m not here to get a massage,” rolling your eyes you turn around to get a new bottle of whiskey. “Do you want another drink or not?”

“Why would anyone celebrate their engagement at a bar?” 

“How shall I know?” you shrug. “I’m just trying to do my job and go home when my shift is over. If you want to know why she came here to celebrate her engagement, ask my stepmother.”

“Stepmother?” that picked the man’s interest. “The bride is your mother?”

“Stepmother,” you correct. “I haven’t seen her since my dad’s burial. No, wait. It was right after the lawyer read the will of my father.”

“Why are you working at a bar if your dad was…rich?”

“Well, she got all of his money, the company, and the house. I didn’t want his money or shit, it just hurts that he didn’t think of me at all,” while you wipe the counter, the man frowns deeply. 

“That’s shit.”

“That’s life. She spread her legs for my father for three years and gets everything. I was his daughter all my life and must work three jobs to pay back my student loan. English literature, what a waste of time.”

“Not to me,” he offers. “Uh-name’s Steve. Steve Rogers.”

While the man in front of you holds out his hand, you look around the crowded bar to watch your stepmother get cozy with her newest conquest. Another wealthy man. 

“Y/N be a darling and make some more drinks for my friends,” your hands ball into fists when your stepmother steps toward the bar counter. She batts her eyelashes and purses her lips. “And hurry up. They are not some of your little friends, living on beer and cheap food.”

“Dot,” your stepmother’s fiancé joins her and the blonde at the bar counter. “Do we get more drinks soon or-?” he licks his lips as his eyes land on you. “Steve, I wanted you to get more drinks, not flirt with the bartender.”

You eye the man up and down. He’s wearing a dark blue suit and matching tie. His polished shoes cost more than all of your shoes, and you are fairly sure, he’s wearing even more expensive underwear.

His blue eyes drop to the drink in the blonde’s hand. “I’m thirsty. Bartender, be a doll and give me one of these too.”

He flashes you a smile, making his blue eyes sparkle. You bet he’s the kind of guy always getting his way only by smiling at people. Not tonight.

“Sorry, my shift is over,” you drop the towel onto the counter. “You can wait for my colleague, or, how about you ask my beloved stepmother? She was a waitress before she met my dad and got her greedy hands on his money.”

“She was joking, Jamie. Y/N is just jealous I found love again,” she stammers. “I never was a waitress.”

“Of course, love,” Bucky sighs as he watches you storm toward the back of the bar. “Maybe she just needs time to adjust. We could invite her for dinner.”

“Buck, I’m getting a terrible headache. I’ll find my way out,” the blonde says.

“Steve, wait,” Bucky watches his best friend and best man leave the bar. He knows Steve doesn’t like Dot. “Come on. Don’t be like that.”

“Do you,” Steve turns around to whisper in Bucky’s ear, “know anything about your soon-to-be wife but how she sucks your cock? Did you know that she got all the money, the house, and shit from her latest husband? Did you know that his daughter must work three jobs to get around?”

A week later, the bar you are working at…

“We are closed,” you jerk your head toward the door. “Go to one of those fancy clubs you are used to. We have nothing to offer here.”

“My friend Steve told me you were a good host,” Bucky plops down onto one of the bar stools and flashes you a smile. “Can I have a drink too? Last time you left me hanging.”

You take a moment to drink him in. He’s all casual today, wearing a Henley and jeans. God, he’s gorgeous. That bastard got it all. The looks. The smile. The eyes. 

If only he didn’t want to marry the woman you hate the most. 

“Why are you here?” you sigh. “I got a lot of work to do and got no time for Dot’s nonsense, or yours.”

“You don’t like your stepmother much, but she wants you to come to our wedding,” you sneer at his words. “Please don’t make this any harder for her.”

“I rather let someone stab me with a rusty knife.”

“Why are you like this?”

“Maybe you should ask her,” you turn around to get a glass for Bucky. “She came into our lives. Three years later my father dies in an accident and his lawyer tells me and his brother that he left everything to Dot. Even the company he built with his brother.”

“He loved her.”

You huff.

“Doll don’t be mad at your stepmother for things happening in the past. You should try to move on. Both of you.”

“I tried,” you slam the glass onto the counter. “She forced me to leave my home. I tried to stay away from her, while my uncle still fights her. He tries to get the company back. I gave up a long time ago.”

He looks surprised.

“She is the one not leaving me alone. Whenever she gets the chance to, she rubs salt into my wounds. Like last week. She didn’t have to rent the whole bar to celebrate her engagement party here. It was to show me she got another wealthy guy into her clutches.”

“Dot is not like that,” you roll your eyes. Of course, Bucky cannot see the ugly monster behind her pretty façade. Dot is a master at manipulating and gaslighting people.

“Believe whatever you want. Just keep me out of this shit. Dot got all she ever wanted from me and my family. I got nothing else to offer.”

You pour Bucky a drink. “That’s the first and last drink you will ever get from me. Don’t come back here.”

Another month later, the car dealer you are working at…

“Not again.”

You can’t believe Bucky followed you to your second job. He looks at the cars, scrunching up his nose. “Hello, doll. I’m looking for…a car.”

“I don’t think you want a second-hand Volvo or an old and rusty Chevy. You look more like,” you look him up and down, “Porsche, or Ferrari. These cars are for people who work for their money and need a car to get to work. Not another status symbol.”

“Why do you hate me?”

He looks you deep in the eyes, searching your face.

“I don’t hate you,” you look away. “I just don’t want to watch another man end up losing everything he has to Dot. So please, stay away from me.”

“If only you would give her a chance, she could be a good stepmother.”

You snort. “Dude, she’s like four years elder than me. She never was and never will be a stepmother to me. She’s a bitch in heat looking for another dick to ride. A wealthy dick, of course.”

“Dick, huh?” he smirks.

You put your hands on your hips and glare at him. “If you would excuse me now. I have work to do.”

“I can see that. You are an expert in working yourself up,” how you hate his stupid smirk. “How about I invite you for dinner and we can talk some more.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No!”

“Heaven help, me with this stubborn brat. I can’t believe I’m wasting my time on her,” he can only watch you storm off. Bucky can’t help but wonder how it would feel to spank your ass.

Three weeks later, your last working place. Copy room.

“No…no,” you kick the copier. “It’s the wrong day to mess with me, bitch. I give you one last chance to give me those damn copies before I kick your ass again.”

“I don’t think a copier got an ass,” snickering Bucky leans in the doorframe to watch you fight with the machine. You kick it again. “Doll, the poor machine doesn’t deserve your hatred.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I thought we can go for dinner,” he steps inside the room and kicks the door shut with his foot. “Doll, I’m talking to you.”

“I got that.”

You don’t turn around, nor do you pay attention to Bucky when he steps closer to have a look at the copier. “How about being a little friendlier?”

“How about you get lost?”

“I get why you don’t get along with Dot,” he puts his hands on your hips and whispers in your ear. “You’re both so stubborn. Maybe I can help you get along better.”

“You can get lost. I don’t want anything to do with Dot, and the catastrophe you call your wedding.”

“I bet I can change your mind,” Bucky presses a soft kiss to your neck. “I’ll be back soon, doll.”

A month later, Barnes and Rogers Inc., your new boss’s office…

“Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N. I’m here for the interview,” you gape at the man sitting in a swivel chair. “You’ve got to be shitting me!”

“Welcome to Barnes and Rogers Inc., doll,” Bucky grins as you start to throw insults at him. You had hoped to finally get a full-time job. You’re tired of working three jobs. “Why did you do this? I wanted a new job, not another confrontation with my past.”

“Oh, doll,” he slowly gets up from his chair to stride towards you. “I have a better plan for you. For us.” 

“US?”

He wraps one arm around your waistline, holding you close to his chest. “Us, Y/N. I want you to be a good girl now and do as I say.” Bucky whispers in your ear. “I’ll be your daddy soon. And I’ll make sure to become a very good daddy for you.”

“Get off me,” you weakly wiggle in his iron grip. “You won’t become my dad. I had a great dad.”

“He gave all of his money to Dot,” his hand moves up to your chest to give one tit a good squeeze. “He was an awful father. Let me be your daddy…” 

You make an odd noise. This is it, the moment you have been waiting for. “I don’t think so,” you only need to rile him up a little more and…

“Fucking brat.” 

He drags you toward his desk, cursing under his breath. You let him bend you over his desk. And you don’t fight him when he shoves your skirt up your waist and your panties down your legs.

You smirk.

“What do you want to do about it.”

Bucky presses one hand to the small of your back to hold you down. “I’ll show you how to behave.”

“Show me.”

“You’re not going to walk for a while.”

He kicks your legs apart. Bucky slaps your pussy, fingers running through your slicked folds. You hold your breath and try to hide you are already a dripping mess. “Slut, already so wet for me.”

You bite your tongue. 

“Got nothing to say,” two fingers prop at your entrance, waiting, lingering to cross a line. “Fine, I wanted to go easy on you.”

“Fuck you.”

“No. Fuck you.” 

Belt buckle. Zipper. Pants dropping to the ground. A symphony to your ears.

“I’m gonna fucking ruin this cunt,” Bucky curses behind you. He runs his cock up and down your folds, gathering your slick to cover his dick. “You’re going to be my good girl.”

Biting your lower lip hard enough to draw blood you feel him snap his hips into your ass, filling you in one go. He starts moving in vigor. Rough. Fast. Without mercy.

“Fucking brat.”

Bucky drags you onto his thick length, blunt nails digging into your skin. He watches his cock disappear in your body, smirking as you push back onto him.

“That’s much better. Good girl. Taking my cock so well.”

You struggle to not moan his name. He can never know you made sure he will end up fucking you over his desk. This is all you ever dreamed of and more. 

“Jamie?” Bucky stills his movement, but his cock twitches inside of your cunt. “What? Y/N?” Dot gasps as she just caught Bucky balls deep inside of you. “What are you doing?”

“Uh-what does it look like, mommy?” you lift your head to grin at her. Bucky swallows thickly as you start to clench tightly around him. He drops his eyes to your stuffed cunt as you start moving your hips to fuck yourself on his cock. “I’m fucking daddy…”

“Dot…I…uh,” Bucky tries to find the right words. “I tried to convince her to come to the wedding and realized, I prefer fucking her and not you.”

“I will destroy you, James Buchanan Barnes!” Dot storms out of the office and slams the door shut. “We are done!”

“I got everything I wanted from you, Dot,” he grips your hips to stop you from moving. “Now, will you tell me why you came all over me when Dot caught us?”

“I-I like to fuck with taken men…sometimes…”

“Well, this is over. You are mine now,” Bucky grunts. “When I’m done with you, we will make sure you’ll get all of your money, the house, and the company back…”

“Why would you do such a thing?”

“Your father was a good friend of my family for the longest time and I tried to find out what happend to him. Having my way with you was just a ... bonus...”

 Part 2

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