#and the job he asked me to be a reference for hired him and he won't even be at the performances of the show

[zaczenemiji]

Hi I hope you are having a lovely day my dear ♥. I was wondering if you could do a Kenji Sato x reader where the reader is an assistant manager to him and one day he like acts arrogantly towards her during one of his interviews when he sees a pretty journalist amongst the crowed of ppl interviewing him and he says some hurtful things to reader and collectively ignoring her and instead choosing to focus on the journalists girl. Ever since that day reader has been silent around Sato and he thought he didn't care but it bothered him because even though she is usually quite, these days she is *too* quite and then there is like a mini celebration for like a baseball game win and reader goes with a guy who is like an athlete but is not as famous as Sato. So the kicker is reader is absolutely DROP DEAD GORGEOUS and ppl at the party even think she is a model. So Sato get jealous and he acts all possessive and protective of her , while she is still angry at him but eventually he makes it up to her over time. If you have anything else to add please do.

Shattered Pride

Kenji Sato x AssistantManager!Reader

Word Count: 1,873

Genre/Warnings: Character Development, Eventual Romance, Forgiveness, Jealousy, Regret, Redemption

Author’s Note: The idea behind this was just fantastic! Thank you so much for the request, writing this was my honor.

MASTERLIST

Being Kenji Sato’s assistant manager is not an easy task. I repeat: Not. An. Easy. Task. Throughout his baseball career, he has had several assistants who quit as soon as they were hired because, for one thing, Kenji is stubborn.

Ghosted interviews, off-topic answers, and insults to other players were just some of the many things about him that gave you a headache.

You remember being referred to him by his last assistant saying that it was a high-paying job. However, you were skeptical at how quickly and willing they were to give off their job to another person.

You understood why the first time you met him. After the meeting, you asked him, “Is there anything else you need from me today?”

In response, he gave an irritated sigh. “If I needed something, I would have asked.”

Thankfully, you were more on the nonchalant scale, and how people respond to you didn’t bother you much. You were here to do your job—and excellently at that, not exactly to be friends with an arrogant baseball star.

Kenji’s behavior was… challenging, that’s the best word for it. He barked orders, rarely said thank you, and seemed to take your presence for granted. But in conditions like these, you thrive the most; you succeed where others have failed.

Today was a usual day with the usual crowd of journalists and fans gathering in the conference room. You stood by his side, ensuring everything was in order for yet another post-game interview.

It was going all smooth and well when Kenji suddenly paused mid-sentence. It was a very short pause that wouldn’t be noticeable to others but you, with all the time you spent as his assistant, noticed it.

Your eyes looked in the direction he kept glancing at. A girl, of course, strikingly beautiful with long sleek back hair that cascaded down in soft waves.

When it was her turn to ask, Kenji leaned forward to give her a dazzling smile. “Why don’t you ask me a question?” he said, ignoring the list of pre-approved questions you handed him before the interview started.

Kenji was holding court with this journalist longer than he should. You noticed that the others in line were starting to murmur in annoyance.

You stepped forward, maintaining your professional demeanor. “Excuse me, Mr. Sato, but we need to move on,” you said. “Other journalists are waiting for their turn.”

“I’m not done here,” he said arrogantly, not bothering to look your way.

You took a deep breath, wanting to handle this situation diplomatically. “I understand,” you said. “But we’ve exceeded the time limit, and it’s only fair to give everyone a chance.”

Whichever agency’s plan was it to send her here to get ahead of other journalists, it’s working. She gave you a polite smile, clearly enjoying the extra attention.

Kenji frowned and turned to you. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something important?” He asked. “If you can’t manage your job properly, maybe you should reconsider.”

Your eyes widened. You could feel others’ on you, their stares almost cutting through your professional facade.

Swallowing your pride, you nodded and stepped back, keeping your expression neutral. But as neutral as you looked, deep down you felt a mix of anger and humiliation.

From that day on, you remained silent around Kenji, only speaking when necessary. You remained professional though, and you made sure that your job was not compromised.

During meetings, you no longer offered insights unless directly asked. When you did speak, your tone was strictly professional. Well, it has always been, but the warmth that characterized your interactions was now gone.

Like that one time during a team strategy meeting. Kenji asked for input on a new play. The room fell silent as everyone waited for your usual insightful suggestions, but you simply looked down at your notes, saying nothing.

The coach glanced at you, surprised. "Any thoughts, (y/n)?" You shook your head. "No, Coach. Nothing to add."

At first, Kenji was oblivious to all of this. He was absorbed in his own world and the adulation of his fans, as always. But as the days turned into weeks, your silence grew too loud to ignore that even he finally noticed it.

A month later, the team planned on celebrating a recent major win. This time, they have decided to invite other athletes as guests of honor. The organizers wanted to have a mix of established stars and up-and-coming talents from the sports world.

You decided to take this as an opportunity to have yourself pampered. You have been working hard, after all. Despite the obvious tension between you and Kenji, you were still able to do your job well.

That’s why at the party, you were stunning. Drop dead gorgeous, as the team said. Though the lights were dim, it seemed as if a spotlight was following you as everyone you passed by turned their heads to look.

You decided to settle by the bar for drinks. “Hey there,” came a familiar voice. You turned to see Jake approaching. He was one of the promising young athletes and a rising star in the sports world who was invited to this party.

He plays as a forward for a popular soccer team and has recently garnered attention for his impressive performance in the league. This wasn’t the first time you met as Jake and Kenji ran into each other a couple times before at different events.

He leaned against the bar, signaling the bartender for a drink. “It’s nice to see you again and this time, enjoying yourself,” he said. “You looked like you needed a break at the last event we were at.”

You chuckled softly, appreciating his observation. "Yeah, it's been a bit hectic lately."

Jake's drink arrived, and he took a sip, his eyes studying you with genuine interest. “Well, you look incredible tonight,” he said. “Have you been hearing what the others are saying?”

Jake turned to glance at the crowd, then back at you. “They were all asking if you were a model or something,” he said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think the same.”

“Thanks, Jake,” you replied, smiling. “You clean up pretty well yourself."

He laughed, a warm, infectious sound that put you at ease. "So, how's work been treating you? Still managing the chaos that is Kenji Sato?"

You hesitated, the memory of Kenji's recent behavior still fresh. "It's been… challenging," you admitted. "But I manage."

Jake's expression softened with understanding. "I can imagine. He's got a reputation for being difficult."

Unbeknownst to both of you, the baseball star you were talking about has finally arrived. His presence commanded attention as he navigated through the crowd, exchanging greetings and handshakes.

As he made his way deeper into the club, his eyes caught sight of you. At that moment he froze. Or was it time that froze? He didn’t know. All he was sure of was that for a little while, he couldn’t breathe.

You were stunning. Your outfit, a sleek, form-fitting dress that accentuated your every curve, made you look like you had just stepped off a runway. Your hair was styled to perfection, your makeup highlighting your natural beauty.

Suddenly, he noticed the man you were talking to, Jake. “That rookie soccer player,” he thought. Gosh, you deserved so much better. At that moment, with firm resolve, he declared upon himself that he would work to be the better that you deserved.

Kenjl's jaw clenched as his own possessive instincts flared up, a mix of jealousy and protectiveness surging through him. He made his way over to you, his eyes never leaving your form.

On your end, you noticed the crowd parted slightly, and you saw Kenji making his way towards you.

Turning slightly, you met Kenji’s gaze with a cool, indifferent look. "Kenji," you acknowledged, your tone polite but distant.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" he asked, his voice tight with barely restrained emotion.

Jake looked at you, his gaze asking if you were fine with it. You smiled at him, a genuine and warm expression, something you haven’t given Kenji in a while. “I’ll go on ahead,” you told Jake. “See you around.”

Kenji led you away from the crowd, finding a quieter corner of the club. As soon as you were out of earshot, he turned to you, his eyes dark with jealousy.

"Why didn't you come with me?" Kenji asked, his frustration evident.

You scoffed. “First of all, you didn’t ask me to.” You crossed your arms, fixing him with a hard stare. "And you made it very clear where I stand with you. Or rather, where I don't."

He winced, the memory of his hurtful words coming back to haunt him. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice softer now. "I was wrong. I was an idiot."

You remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

“I've been a jerk, and I know it,” he continued. “I was arrogant, dismissive, and I took you for granted.”

You watch him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. Yet you looked away, the hurt still fresh. "You hurt me, Kenji,” you said. “You made me feel worthless and unimportant."

Kenji steps closer, his voice filled with regret. “I know, I'm so sorry. I was so focused on myself, on my career, that I didn't see how much I was hurting you. Your silence has been killing me. I miss your insights, your presence.”

He paused for a while before continuing. “I miss you.” He reaches out, gently taking your hand.

“You're more than just my assistant,” he said. “You're the reason I can do what I do. You make everything better, and I've been too blind to see it. Please, give me a chance to make it right. I want to earn back your trust.”

You met his gaze, searching for any sign of insincerity. All you saw was genuine regret and a longing to make things right. "This isn't something that can be fixed overnight, Kenji."

"I know," he said quickly. "I'll do whatever it takes, for as long as it takes. I just... I can't lose you."

You took a deep breath, the weight of his words sinking in. "We'll see," you said. "But it won't be easy."

He nodded, relief flooding his features. "I understand,” he said. “Thank you, (y/n)—for giving me a chance.”

As you walked back to the party, Kenji stayed close by your side, protective and possessive. arm subtly wrapped around your waist, a clear signal to everyone around that you were with him.

As the night came to an end, Kenji offered to drive you home. To which, you agreed. The drive home was quiet, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything else, it was rather hopeful.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day, Kenji found you alone in the office. “Hey," he said softly, "I was thinking we could grab dinner. Just the two of us."

You looked up, surprised. "Dinner?"

He nodded, a hopeful smile on his face. "Yeah. To thank you for everything. And to make up for being such an idiot."

You smiled at him for a moment before nodding. "Okay. Dinner sounds nice."

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@eternallyvenus @puppyminnnie

[applyjuicee]

hey Google what does it mean if the person you like barely speaks to you but asked you to be a reference for a job and wears the bracelet you made them? asking for a friend of course

[shiny-jr]

- Warning: None really. Gender-neutral reader. 

- Characters: Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Silver, Sebek Zigvolt.

- Summary: You work a minimum wage job when a fae takes an interest after you jokingly asked him "will you adopt me?"

- Note: I planned for this to be a platonic yandere thing, but really it's only silly thoughts so I don't really plan to continue this unless y'all want. I don't even have a name for it.

Thinking about an AU where...

You were born a regular magicless person in Twisted Wonderland. Which was a travesty, but not too uncommon, as there were plenty of beings in this world that were incapable of magic. It was considered a privilege to be born with such capabilities. A privilege.

Which was likely why the world seemed catered specifically for magic users. Magic users were the cream of the crop, the best of the best. In the social hierarchy, magic users reined on top. That's just how things were. It wasn't discriminatory. It was merely the nature of society. If a company was looking to hire, of course they would inquire if potential employees could use magic. And of course, they were more likely to choose magic users to fill the positions. That explained why you could only find work as a minimum wage telemarketer, but it was better than nothing.

Random numbers generated and numerous attempts, scripted greetings you've said so much you could recite them in your sleep. As soon as you get an answer of "mmmyello?" a casual and exaggerated hello, you go off on the scripted greeting to advertise the product.

Shockingly, the person on the other end doesn't immediately hang up. They merely hum at your words, occasional shifting heard on the other end.

By the tone and voice, you've deduced that it's a rather relaxed guy. A conversation ensues, and although he doesn't sound all that interested in making a purchase, he doesn't get annoyed by your call. In fact, he continues to chat, seemingly amused by you and willing to share details such that he had a son and two others he fondly cared for.

The man, whom referred to himself as Lilia, mentioned he lived in Briar Valley. How odd, as it was common knowledge that the valley didn't have the best connection with technology due to their preference towards magic. He spoke of his well-mannered son and the other two boys he helped raise, one was a loud son of a dentist and the other was a quiet son of longtime family friends. By this time you were imagining an older gentleman with three young boys no older than ten.

He seemed to care so fondly for them that in the middle of the pleasant conversation, you couldn't help but jokingly ask, "Will you adopt me?"

The line was silent and you were mortified as you remembered this was supposed to be business talk, and your calls were likely being recorded. After what must've been shock, he began to laugh on the other end, and you immediately ended the call in your panic.

Why did you say that? You shouldn't have said that– Damn it, right when you were just gonna test the waters to see if he wanted the insurance package! Well, there went your big catch of the day. The rest of the evening was failed attempts, either deadlines or potential customers just hung up as soon as you spoke. Things were looking bleak.

Eventually, not even a week later, you received a letter. A letter, not an email, that was written much like how you expected the contents of a letter from the medieval ages to sound. Starting with: Salutations, Telemarketer–– and after several paragraphs, ending with ––That is why I am now interested in your deal! I will need your assistance, because I have not a single clue about how insurance works.

There was no number, and you couldn't recall the one you had reached him through, so there was no choice but to resort to the old fashioned way. Through letters. Although it would be a hassle and an interaction that would likely last for weeks just for one deal, a customer was a customer, and this would be your first one in so long. However, when you agreed to speak to him, you didn't actually expect him to show up at your doorstep. The voice you recognized, but he was not what you had in mind. He looked to be your age, short with magenta highlights in his black hair and wide red eyes accompanied by a fang-toothed smile. And pointed ears, the sign of fae. Of course he was a fae, that made total sense as to why he spoke as if he were older. He probably was older, much older than you previously thought.

Lilia wore a constant smile, listening but also not listening when you tried your best to explain what insurance was to a fae that had never once needed it.

"Do you get it now...?" You asked finally, after a lengthy explanation to which he barely asked any questions. All he did was nod up and down.

There was a brief pause. "Yesss..." That sounded uncertain, but he didn't appear to care too much as he noticed your bag with only the minimum in it like keys and a thin wallet. Along with the time. "Shouldn't you be on your lunch break now?"

"Yes, but... I don't eat lunch. I'm not hungry." A lie. You were hungry, but it wasn't easy to get lunch on a minimum wage salary alone. You'd eat something for dinner.

Lilia seemed to sense this, somehow detecting your lie. "Hm... Well, I like you. And I'm not about to let a child starve on my watch."

"A child...?" You stared at him incredulously. This fae was practically the same size as you, maybe even shorter. "I'm over––"

"Uh-huh, just nod and come along." He instructed, holding up a finger to gently shush you as he waved you along to follow beside him. "If your age only has two numbers in it, then in my eyes, you're like a toddler."

Lunch was surprisingly nice, as Lilia was quite eccentric but excellent at holding a conversation. He seemed wise and witty, making a great combination. However, you couldn't help but wonder what a fae from Briar Valley was doing here, as it was known that most faes preferred not to leave the valley.

"It's getting late, I do have to be going..." Lilia sighed, before turning to you and his smile softened. "Would you like to see my boys I told you about? It won't take long."

Did he live close by? That was the only plausible explanation you could think of, since Briar Valley was a whole continent away. It only made sense that he lived nearby if he were here now. Maybe he was one of the few fae that chose to leave the valley.

This was quickly disproven when he held your hand and told you to stay still, when it felt like you were hurled through space. A gust of wind slapping your face, your eyes momentarily seeing a kaleidoscope of colors, you felt sick when suddenly your surroundings were darker.

Dark brick walls like black, candles lighting the space, gray stone floors... definitely not the outside of the cafe you were just standing in front of moments ago. Teleporation magic...? He was a fae, and all faes had magic. You only had milliseconds to recover and swallow the rising bile in your throat, as Lilia pulled you into an open space like a courtyard where light filtered in. However, in this space there were training dummies and swords instead of flowers and butterflies.

"Come, come, meet my boys. The ones I've told you about!"

You immediately paled. When you heard boys, you were expecting young children no bigger than half your height. Instead you were met with three towering men with forbidding expressions.

Two of which were dressed in dark metallic armor and lowering sharpened weapons. The one on the left was a bit taller, with green hair and sharp eyes that pierced you like a blade. The one on the right was the shorter of the two, but that didn't make him any less intimidating with his gray hair and aurora eyes on an expression as cold as ice.

And the last, the last was recognizable anywhere. Black robes and majestic black horns like a crown with slitted green eyes that seemed to glow and peer into your very soul. That was the prince of the valley, a fae with unrivaled and frightening levels of magic.

"This is Sebek, Silver, and Malleus. They've so looked forward to meeting you ever since I told them about you after our pleasant telephone chat yesterday!"

[ink-n-shadow]

enjoy more older!divorced!biker!ghost (also send me thoughts/requests about him... ;-;)

QUALIFIED

𝜗𝜚 the one where odb!ghost is forced to give you a job interview (and hates how qualified you are for the job)

𝜗𝜚 pairing: older!divorced!biker!ghost x reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: slight smut at the end (minors—DNI), simon not knowing how he feels, slight mean!ghost, slight perv!ghost

(context: odb stands for "older!divorced!biker")

odb!ghost being forced to interview you (thanks to an almost too enthusiastic soap), absolutely steaming as he sits in the office that's nestled in the back of the bar and thumbs through your resumé absentmindedly. he hates just how qualified you are for the bartending job, how many references you have listed, how pretty your signature looks signed at the bottom of your cover letter, how sweet your smile looks in the photo you have tacked to the top.

he hates how early you come in for your interview, dressed up in an iron-pressed blazer with your hair pulled up and away from your big eyes. he hates the way you reach your much smaller hand out to shake his, hates the way your lotioned skin feels almost velvety against his calloused palm. he hates the way you ask him how his day has been so far in the prettiest lilting voice, hates the way his voice catches in his throat when he offers you the gruffest "s'been fine—have a seat f'me" in existence.

he does love the way you squirm in your seat when your eyes meet his for longer than a second or two. he loves the way you nervously twist at the button of your blazer every time you answer one of his questions (almost perfectly, mind you). he loves the way you roll your shoulders back and puff your chest out a bit more when he tries to undermine your abilities. he loves the way you snap back at him when he teases you a bit too much, loves the way the tips of your ears grow hot and your hands clench tightly into fists.

odb!ghost still can't decide how he feels about you even as you're shaking his hand once more, noting to him that your phone number is in your resumé should he have any questions for you. he still can't decide even when he watches your hips sway as you walk towards the exit of his office door.

the only time odb!ghost decides how he feels is after he's done fucking his cock up into his calloused and scarred fist, throwing your resumé photo somewhere off the edge of the bed and letting his head rest back against his pillows as he blinks up at the ceiling. as he catches his breath, he searches his mattress for the phone he discarded soon after he got home, fingers uncharacteristically trembling as he punches in your phone number (that he most definitely didn't memorize) and sends you a message.

Hired. Be there tomorrow at 16:00. Wear something pretty.

©️ ink-n-shadow 2024

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

[elodieunderglass]

It's not really my business, but honestly it feels like it would be advisable to hire a copyright lawyer. Like I don't feel like you're in it for the money, but it might be gratifying to have the guy milking your idea at least have to formally acknowledge you. I think I'd do it just for the peace of mind to know if I've been "legally" wronged or not. Either way, hope you continue to inspire, and live out a peaceful life.

(In reference to this post about the guy who pretends to have invented “Elder Teletubbies,” specifically how he is now kickstarting DnD minis of them.)

Ha, well, it’s all a little tricky I think. I might, hilariously, post on the r/legaladvice Reddit (even though they’re all cops lol) because the only thing I want here is for him to stop selling my “transformative work,” and ideally to stop pretending he invented it (which might be difficult as he appears to fully believe his work is creatively independent.)

I think if anything, my post counts as protected commentary or a transformative work of BBC’s Teletubbies, and I think it’s stinky to profit on that stuff in general (like I’m 190% okay with buying LotR fanart on stickers ! but I wouldn’t dream of trying to publish a fic with the serial numbers filed off. Why?)

I think ultimately I’m not a grifter, I’m a grownup, and I think it’s several levels of eye roll to sell fanart of a tv show on this level. I would be embarrassed to touch money made on that. I’m too fucking scrupulous and artisanal. I have toyed with a silly original novel for funsies since 2019 but keep saying things like, “oh, people will think this is too similar to something else that already exists” as if a silly original novel I write for fun has to somehow pass a Bar of Originality higher than anything salary-writers aim for.

I’m also pretty anti-intellectual-property myself in that leftist sense where I don’t believe people should be acting as if creative works are, like, oil. Like the resource extraction angle of intellectual property freaks me out, I don’t think getting super high-horse and snotty about Magical Brain Property is entirely compatible with the artisanal temperament I personally got going on here. I am like snufkin about this, simply smoking a pipe and making a flower crown saying “poor fools! Producing works for market, and serving as the guard dogs of the market, lest their work lose value if it becomes more common!” I do not have a high horse. I am not going to post 6900 words about the importance of defending fucking… Mickey Mouse. I buy those lotr stickers on Etsy! I do have a horse, but it’s a pretty low horse.

If it was his own work I would not care about this guy doing this in the least (apart from loftily calling it stinky - but hey, nerds are common and nerds are stinky, it’s not rare) IF he wasn’t STEALING FROM MY ANTI-COMMERCIALISATION DREAM TO DO IT.

That’s the bit that PISSES ME OFF too much to ignore: that and accepting compliments for being original like 😌 yes my twisted mind did this idk lol.

Like if you asked him point blank about the artistic choices he’d be like idk my twisted mind just sees the Teletubbies this way teehee! but if you ask ME why, for example, the adult Teletubbies live in the forest I’ll explain that in 2017 I was at a major life crossroads and this dream was ABOUT that. It was goodbye to my identity as a foreigner from the pine forests, and full steam ahead to settling permanently in the fucking shire (where the baby teletubbies on the bbc show live). It was about going back to work having had my first child, and saying goodbye to my various career dreams for myself (famous scientist! Published author!) as I chose instead, finally, the responsibility of working humbly as a public servant for the actual good of society. It is about witnessing the wild and saying “I am not of it, but it is my job to be its witness and voice.” That’s why the adult Teletubbies are dancing in my native forests while I’m watching them from the English hills. This guy doesn’t know that he just vaguely heard “spooky forest cryptid” and didn’t develop it at all, I do more work than that with FANFICTION in my time off!!!

So it’s really about nebulous stuff and ethics and not something worth paying a lawyer for I think!

But thank you so much for this, I think the thing that gets most perennial about it is the TOTAL GASLIGHTING of the “outside world” of the rest of the internet like, fully believing they invented this, and they DIDNT. They’re so wrong on the internet and they don’t know

[toast-on-dandelioms]

I could like to ask for a request it ok you don’t do it!

So I was thinking about Yandere Batfamily x MaleGojo reader like a reference from Gojo of JJK the same figure and the same goofy personality and charming personality like he was not their family or blood relative or anything they just fell really hard for M! Gojo reader for his personality and eyes like they even kidnapped him and they all fell for him since M! Gojo is between his 19-20s and he like dumb he just let it happen cause he like attention and he got a lot of ego so he just like “Meh I get free stuff and gifts and like in a mansion for free” even thought M! Gojo is really rich he just goofy. 

Ok so, I am incredibly sorry it took me so long to write this, I never had the right idea until now but I hope you like it!

Dividers made by @thecutestgrotto and by @cafekitsune

Also I wrote this when I mostly didn't sleep so, whatever weird thing reader is thinking it's totally my fault but I am not apologizing for it.

The pronouns for the reader will be he/they, so if you don't like it, don't read it.

Wc: 6k

Fyi (my own warnings for yall): reader is an egomaniac, Bruce flirts with yall, inappropriate thinking from yall, I decided the ages please don't take them seriously, the ages are only used for this ask only,

Ages:

Bruce: 45 - Dick: 27 - Jason: 23 - Tim: 20 - Stephanie: 20 - Cass: 22–23 - Damian: 15/16 - Duke: 19

age of reader: 20

Tw: big age gap, Bruce Wayne, romantic yanderes (except Damian, he's a minor in this story), drugging and spiking food, mention of unwanted touch, inappropriate thinking, mention of death, mention of grooming and sex trafficking, MINORS PLEASE DON'T INTERACT WITH THIS ONE BECAUSE SOME THEMES MIGHT BE BAD,

You were a model. A symbol of beauty that people paid money to use to promote their products. People adored you thanks to your eyes, a blue so intense that even the rarest sapphire looked like a common one compared to your eyes. Well, it was thanks to your eyes that you were a model, they seemed to attract people. You were proud of your eyes and your face, you knew they were the reason why you were famous and you made sure to never ruin it. You were proud of being a male model. At least, that's what you felt before you went to Gotham.

You were in the car with your agent, Katelyn, who was still talking about things you weren't allowed to do in Gotham, which made you incredibly bored since that's what she all talked about ever since you accepted the job and was told to go to Gotham with Katelyn.

One thing that stuck to you from her annoying nagging, especially since she wouldn't stop talking, was that you weren't allowed to be near the billionaire Bruce Wayne, even though he was the one who hired you to be the star for his new products At least, that's what you remembered since you tuned out Katelyn's voice after 20 minutes of her talking.

You weren't sure why you weren't allowed near the billionaire but you didn't really care, from the photos you searched online of him you didn't see anything interesting so you decided that he wasn't worth your time. The only reason you chose to do this was the pay.

When you finally arrived at the hotel you immediately demanded a cocktail while waiting for Katelyn to check the two of you in the hotel.

As you waited near the bar in the hotel, you saw a few individuals who were trying to subtly stare at you, to which you didn't care since you were used to people staring. But, as you also looked at them with no shame whatsoever, you noticed that they were all wearing or using a Wayne product.

The oldest individual in the group was a man with pitch black hair and who was sitting on one of the many sofas in the lobby. For a few seconds, you could've mistaken him for the younger version of Bruce Wayne when he was, maybe, 25 or 26 years old. His wrist was decorated with a chunky watch that had seen increased sales after Bruce Wayne promoted it, which was probably how the man had heard of it. If you were to guess, the watch was probably one of the limited edition that not many people bought since only 10 were released of the special line. You knew that because you cried when you found out the watch was sold out and you weren't able to buy it.

The second oldest, another black haired man, who was leaning on a wall near the first man, with a weird white streak in his hair but was built like a soldier, especially with how muscular his arms were even though he was wearing a jacket, probably a leather one but you weren't sure since he was a bit far away. 

You did know it was a Wayne jacket because you just saw that same leather jacket and design on the magazine you were reading on the plane while ignoring Katelyn and told her to order one since you wanted it.

Another man was next to the watch guy, which you almost didn't see until he suddenly appeared to try and grab a cup of coffee out of the watch guy’s hands. 

You did see he was using a laptop, which made you a bit confused since you could see a W and also a D, but from some bits of Katelyn's lecture about Gotham’s rich people that you were listening to, you don't remember anything about the Wayne and Drake’s companies merging or a collaboration. 

As you continued to stare at them while sipping on the cocktail you finally received, you noticed a kid, maybe a teen but you didn't really care, who was talking on the phone the entire time with an angry scowl on his face that made you wonder what angered such a young person. 

Strangely enough, you did know who the kid/teen was. He was Damian Wayne, also nicknamed ‘Wayne’s poodle’ after you heard of his obsession with animals and how many he has in his Manor. 

You gave him a quick glance, a bit surprised that he was the one openly staring at you before smiling at him, trying not to laugh when he looked away with a visible blush on his face. 

After seeing Damian Wayne in the lobby, you were quick to assume that the other three men you looked at before were the other children of Bruce Wayne. 

You set the cocktail on the bar and walked away to Katelyn, glad she was done and grabbed the key to your room before walking off, not caring about them being at your hotel. 

You took the elevator to your room and came face to face with a blonde girl and an black haired asian. You politely smiled at them and stepped to the side so they could exit the elevator before entering it, quickly pressing the button to close it since you could feel the black haired girl stare on you the whole time. 

While waiting in the elevator, you did wonder who all the people in the lobby were before shrugging and going back to playing on your phone, not caring about them anymore since they weren't important. 

As you waited for the elevator to arrive at your floor, you suddenly felt it stop a few floors before yours, and when you looked up you saw an African American kid staring at you, his mouth slightly open. 

You looked at him and chuckled softly at how surprised he was at seeing you, finding him cute since he kept stealing glances at you the whole time you were in the elevator. 

You smiled when he glanced at you once again and finally said. 

"Y'know if you were just going to stare, a picture will last longer dearest." You giggled, smiling softly as his skin went a dark shade of red.

"I- I wasn't staring-!" He stammered, the slight quiver in his voice giving him away.

"Mhm, so the wall behind me was just soooo interesting you had to keep looking right?" You smirked, raising an eyebrow at him as you crossed your arms.

The boy stared blankly at you for a solid few seconds. "....yes." He replied in a completely serious voice, which prompted a flurry of laughter from yourself. 

You walked out the elevator when it finally reached your floor and winked at him when he looked at you, continuing to walk to your hotel room and finally changing, after entering the room, after hours of being on an airplane with Katelyn.

After adjusting to Gotham’s nightlife and also enjoying the city without any rogue attack, you finally walked in the WE building to do the photoshoot about whatever product you needed to advertise. 

Did you care about the product? No but you just wanted to be paid so you didn't care. 

As you walked inside the building with Katelyn next to you, needing her to know where to go and also to give the makeup crew a list of the makeup products that you were allergic to and a bag with substitutes if they didn't have any in hand. 

You entered the elevator, completely ignoring Katelyn and her instructions and just waited to arrive on the floor where the photoshoot or whatever you needed to do was, playing a stupid game on your phone while waiting. 

When you finally reached the floor, you followed Katelyn without saying anything, a small smirk on your face as you saw many people looking your way and staring. 

You entered the photoshoot and ignored the other model, already annoyed since she wasn't as good as you but you could manage since your beauty was enough to make this session perfect. 

As you entered your makeup station you completely disregarded the fact that the Bruce Wayne was standing near the station, not caring if he was staring since you knew why he was staring. I mean, who could blame you? 

You were perfect and a symbol of beauty that so many people wanted for their own pleasure. 

During the photoshoot you could hear people talking about the poses and what to edit in between photos, making you annoyed since you wanted everything to be perfect and your co-model was getting reprimanded most of the time. 

You also noticed how Bruce kept staring at you the whole time you were in the photoshoot, making you wonder if he was interested in you before shrugging and going back to sippin on some water since you were on break after your co-model Mercy Jacques, yes he wants people to use both names, kept messing up and even destroyed a prop. 

Time passed slowly while your annoyance kept growing before you finally gave up when Mercy Jacques accidentally dropped a heavy prop on your leg while doing a weird pose, making you incredibly angry when he didn't even apologize. 

You got up and wanted to punch the man, not caring if it would create a scandal. No one could treat you like an inferior model when you were one of the best in the whole country. 

As you prepared to punch him, someone suddenly grabbed your arm and held you from behind, completely stopping you from even trying to hit Mercy Jacques, making you even more angry. 

"Calm down sweetheart, anger isn't a good look on you," a voice whispered against your ear, the person's gentle breathing making a shiver run down your spine. 

You picked up the sound of movement and felt the hands clutching your waist loosen as the person came to stand by your side. 

It was Bruce motherfucking Wayne. 

"Mercy Jacques, I'm afraid we can no longer work with you. Please see yourself out." He said simply, the taught smile on his face was much too sinister for your liking.

You pulled away from his arms after Mercy Jacques was escorted out the room before looking at Bruce, a small smirk on your face before quickly acting like a damsel in distress from the prop that fell on your leg, a bruise was already forming which helped your act. 

Were you doing this to get pity and also to make sure Mercy Jacques’s reputation would be in shambles? Also yes, you already knew Katelyn was making sure he would never find a job in Gotham. 

She was good at ruining people's lives, that's why you kept her around even though her voice was incredibly annoying. 

As you faked being incredibly hurt, you used Bruce’s closeness to lean onto him, secretly using the opportunity to feel the chest of the man and being a bit surprised at how muscular the man actually was. 

Unfortunately for you, you didn't see how dark Bruce’s eyes got when you leaned on him and acted all hurt, 

You pulled away when you heard Katelyn call for you and noticed her close to Bruce so you pulled away from him, a bit reluctant since you were still touching his chest and body with no shame whatsoever. 

You turned to her and just made a motion with your hand to make her cut the session so you could go back to the hotel and relax in a nice bath and turned around to go to the makeup station so they could clean your face. 

You barely managed to take even a step before you suddenly felt Bruce’s hand wrapping around and grabbing your wrist, which made you think of another body part he could wrap his hands around. 

You looked at him with a half surprised half whatever dirty thing you could think about his hands before realizing he was talking and you completely ignored what he was saying to focus on his hands and how good they must feel on your body. 

When you finally clocked in to listen to what he was saying, you just heard the last part. 

“So, what do you think sweetheart?” he said, his voice was a deep baritone, the type of sound that would have anyone on their knees within seconds of meeting this man, which, in all honesty you would do everything if he called you that in that same voice. 

Unfortunately, you couldn't just admit that you weren't listening to the richest man you knew, the man who hired you as his model so you just put on your best fake smile. 

“That sounds amazing Bruce, can I call you Bruce?” you asked, a bit confused and almost panicked when the man stared at you in silence. 

You almost cried when he finally laughed because you were scared as fuck that you somehow offended him by calling him by his first name and he was gonna kill you. 

“I’ll pick you up at 7 at your hotel” was the last thing he said to you before walking off after patting your shoulder, making you almost kneel down since god damn his voice and smile was too much. 

You waited until he was far away before immediately turning to Katelyn, who you knew was near and probably heard everything. 

You quickly walked up to the poor innocent woman and grabbed her from her shoulders, your eyes staring right into her soul and seeing her deepest and darkest secrets before asking in a desperate tone “what the fuck did I just agree to?” 

To which the woman sighed, already knowing you got distracted by the man and how hot he was in your eyes before finally telling you what you agreed to do. “You just agreed to go to dinner with Bruce Wayne, the man I told you to not interact with because of the type of scandals he might cause you if the two of you are seen together.” her voice sounded so annoyed but also resigned at the fact that you never listen to her.

You stayed silent when she started her usual rant about you needing to be more careful and knowing when to listen before noticing you were just looking into whatever was in front of you with a dreamy look on your face. 

“OI Romeo! Stop day-dreaming and go get the makeup off! Your date is in 2 hours and I know you will go no matter what so at least let me pick the suit” 

You immediately nodded and hugged her, kissing her on the forehead before running off to the makeup station in heels, making Katelyn wonder how you could do that since she couldn't even walk with normal heels.

It was almost 7 pm and you were finally finishing putting on some makeup, making sure your suit was the right colors so it could make you look gorgeous for this date. 

Did you care that he was probably gonna use you as a one night stand? No, you were gonna use him to have a pleasurable night and also to make your friends back home jealous. 

When it was finally 7 you quickly went to the lobby of the hotel, stopping when you noticed the same people in the lobby when you first arrived, who were all staring directly at you. (Except Damian) 

It almost felt like you were standing nude before the people in the hotel, my body bare for their piercing gazes to lay upon. I've always felt absolutely secure in my body and looks, you knew you were hot and felt pride in knowing that. But their unwavering eyes still made you feel insecure, like they were scrutinizing every tiny detail about your appearance, making you feel like you were being criticized by your parents when you weren't the best at a photoshoot. 

You shivered and quickly pulled your eyes away from them, trying your best to simply ignore the gazes that you could feel still stabbing into my back.

You smiled in relief when you saw Bruce arrive in a Lamborghini and you hurriedly ran outside, continuing to feel their gaze on your back as you reached the car at the same time Bruce was walking out of it. 

You smiled at the older man and thanked him when he opened the door for you, sneakily glancing back to the hotel and seeing all those people staring at both you and Bruce. 

You swiftly sat in the car and looked inside, amazed at how amazing the car was and didn't notice how Bruce looked back at the lobby of the hotel and smirked before walking around the car and driving off with you. 

In the car you didn't say much and just looked at the road, sometimes stealing glances at Bruce and admiring his body in his suit, especially how his pants were perfect since they were tight enough to show his bulge. 

God you so wanted to see him without those pants. You wanted to see all his body without his suit, wanting to feel how strong he actually was and if the rumors that you heard from other models about him being a god in bed were true. 

You finally stopped imagining Bruce naked when he pulled up at one of the fanciest restaurants in Gotham where it's impossible to get a reservation there. Katelyn tried and you watched her cry when she failed, a smile on your face as you watched her tears ruin her makeup, enjoying her pain. 

You got out of the car and gracefully grabbed Bruce’s hand, especially since you were wearing very high heels that made Katelyn make a weird face at how narrow the heel was but you didn't care. 

The heels made the outfit perfect and also helped you be at the same height as Bruce, you refused to let that man have the upper hand with his height if you change it.

You walked inside the restaurant while holding onto Bruce’s arm, the classic fake smile on your face for any photographers who were near the restaurant and for the staff, even winking at the waiter who led you two to a secluded table.

You thanked the older man, who didn't look a day over 30, when he slightly pulled the chair out to help you sit down before pushing it near the table. 

You were a bit surprised he got a reservation at this restaurant before scolding yourself mentally because he's a billionaire, he probably threw some money and got a reservation. You were now wondering who lost their reservation tonight to make space for Bruce Wayne. 

As you sat down you smiled at the older man, knowing that he invited you here to flaunt his new catch and how he only wanted you because you were pretty and young. 

Did you care? No, you were used to it and you were gonna use everything you had to go to bed with him and get paid for your silence afterwards. That's what always happened when a rich person was attracted to you and by now you started to use it for your own gain. 

You were used to rich and powerful people being attracted and using their wealth to have you for a while, they only wanted a pretty thing and not you. You just knew that if you slept with them then you would get more modeling contracts and more publicity.

(TALK OF GR*PE AND OTHER BAD STUFF, SKIP IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ IT)

You think you were 11 when it started. 

The exact date was hazy in your mind, you just knew that after spending an hour or two with a photographer, alone, that your parents told you was famous for not giving any models a break during photo shoots, was now giving you special treatment and kept touching you in weird places during the photoshoot. 

You can still remember the agonizing pain in your arms from struggling against the man’s grip on your wrists to keep you still, the strain in your throat as you kept begging, pleading and downright crying while asking him to stop and to let you go back to your parents; you can still smell his horrible breath on your face when he told you to shut up before kissing you. 

You were 12 when it developed into a weekly occurrence.

You could remember everything even though you wished you couldn't, you could still feel that man’s touch and hearing his laughter as your body was being used for his own pleasure against your own will. 

12 years old and being forced into acts even adults would feel ill at the idea of. At the time you were rising in fame thanks to a few small roles in some shows and movies and alongside your modeling gigs that kept pouring in. 

You were 14 when you told your parents for the first time. 

You remembered the confusion and feeling ashamed when you told them about what happened, not understanding why they just told you that you did a good job and that doing that meant that the producer liked you and was going to give you more opportunities to make the world see your beauty. 

You never understood why they didn't help you. Why your mother just looked at you with no emotion in her eyes as you cried when you told her what that man did before telling you to stop crying and that you had a photoshoot with that same man in two hours.

You could still feel the pats on your back that your father gave you when he saw how many modeling gigs you had been offered by that man and just told you to keep it up. 

You were 15 when you began to give up on finding any help. 

You slowly stopped telling your parents and just let the photographers, stylists and directors do what they wanted when you realized that your parents didn't care about you and just cared about the money you were making for them.

You were 16 when you stopped believing in finding help altogether.

You stopped trying to understand and just gave in the pressure that everyone kept putting on you. You created a mask from the pieces of your broken self and just kept going.

You stopped fighting, you stopped pleading for them to stop and just used their greed and lust for you as a way to advance in life. You knew it was wrong but you didn't care, no one ever taught you or told you what was right and what was wrong.

You were 17 when you learnt how to pretend you liked it.

You convinced both yourself and others that it was okay, the way you'd been treated for your adolescence. If you had no problem with it and tricked yourself into believing it was what you wanted, it wasn't wrong. 

And it worked. 

You pretended to enjoy it. You pretended to adore the fame and money you got from what you did. You pretended to smile happily at your parents as they told you there was another meeting you had with the director later that day. You pretended to look forward to those meetings. 

You pretended so much you forgot how not to. Your personality, likes, interests, everything about you was completely fake. But the world is easily swayed by fakeness if it's decorated with rhinestones and glittery gowns.

Like a mannequin in a boutique window, beautifully dressed in high-end clothing, with jewelry adorning the delicate neck of the faceless creature. Thousands of eyes gaze upon the mannequin, almost as if they're awaiting its demise.

(no more talk about gr*ape for now, will inform if there's another)

As the night progressed you noticed how Bruce never made any comments about your body or what you could do for him, making you a bit frustrated since you knew he was attracted to you. 

You saw how he looked at you, you felt his eyes linger down when you walked beside him. You weren't oblivious of it. You knew what he wanted but you hated how he kept asking you questions about your life and hobbies. 

Why was he actually so interested in you?! He’s just another old man wanting to flaunt to his rich friends that he fucked a model so why is he doing all this?! 

You kept drinking wine and starting to act drunk, thinking that maybe he was one of those old men that would use you when you were intoxicated and then manipulate you into thinking that you also wanted it. 

Plus, no one knows it thanks to your influence in the media, but you weren't a lightweight. You trained yourself to act drunk after two glasses of wine so that people would never know that you were an easy person. 

After the waiter brought the check and left you were fuming and got too tired to act like you were interested in him after a whole dinner with him not insinuating anything that you should do for him. 

You got up, the chair screeching as it suddenly moved, and glared at him, too angry to keep acting like your stupid ass self that is too focused on their fame and ego to care about others. 

“...how many mind games are you going to play” - you pointed a finger right to his face, your voice shaky from frustration and anger -“huh? How many TİLL YOU SLEEP WİTH ME?! I know what you want! Everyone I ever met that wanted to go to dinner with me always wanted the same thing! Answer me!! And don't you dare waste my time!”

You kept glaring at him before feeling a tiny prick on your neck and before you could look you started to feel drowsy, like when your parents used to give you a glass of water that tasted weird when you were younger.

You pointed a finger at him before mumbling out a “you sick fucker, you could've told me you wanted to do it with me sleeping” and then collapsing on the floor, your fall being stopped by Bruce. 

Bruce: he has always been interested in you after he saw you at your first big runway after you turned 18 and was finally free of your parents control. 

He saw you walking on the big stage, your hair all messy in the wildest haircut possible that he guessed you did, complete with a wild outfit and the wildest makeup he ever saw. 

He forgot what the theme of the show was because he only remembered you and how, even while wearing rags and looking like you just went through the most heartbreaking breakup, you looked like the most beautiful man he ever saw in his life. 

After that day he just kept going to whatever event you were also in and enjoyed watching you from afar, he even had a full room in the Manor ready for you after he heard you talk about the perfect bedroom to relax but also have stuff to do so you could still be productive. 

Next to that same room there was the room filled with almost every photo, magazine clips and whatever he could find about you plastered on the walls. 

He slowly became more obsessed with each day that passed that he wasn't with you, his love for you growing into an unhealthy obsession that he actually sent people to spy and take care of you in your company while also finding out everything about your past as a child model. 

He did ruin the lives of every director, photographer and almost every person in the modeling industry who used you in a sexual manner after he did some digging since he needed to know everything about you, wanting to be the perfect husband for you when he will finally marry you. 

Even though he never talked to you and was double your age, he didn't care. He wanted you. 

(Everyone’s obsession for you starts when you turn 18, if you got confused sorry)

Richard/Dick: he was the first one who got influenced by Bruce’s obsession with you after just 3 months since he was living at the Manor during that time because there was a case that he couldn't crack and was using the batcomputer to find some more clues. 

He accidentally walked in on Bruce admiring one of the many runways that the older man registered and just watched from the doorway as the TV played in the background, staring at how beautiful you looked while walking, staring directly into the camera and in Dick’s soul. 

After that day he started to research on his own and eventually stumbled into Bruce’s obsession room about you and didn't feel disgusted or weirded out when he saw all the photos and magazines photos about you and didn’t feel connected to Bruce when he realised that he and the old man shared an obsession. 

No, he felt jealous at how it was Bruce that first found you and not him. Bruce had the privilege of having you for himself before he found you and he hated that. 

But he also managed to one up Bruce by being the first of the two to get a photo with you after disguising himself as a waiter during a gala, especially because he knew the man flew to the city where the gala was held just to see you, even if you were with an old guy who looked like he could be your grandfather. 

Did he rub it in Bruce’s face right after, especially when he knew the man was there and especially when he knew that the man still didn't approach you because he didn't know every single thing about you? Yes, yes he did and he did it with pride since he managed to one up Bruce. 

He also killed the man before going back to Gotham with his old man,making sure that old bastard suffered through every moment and felt everything, especially when Dick started to slowly break his fingers, making sure he broke them so much that the man would never be able to use them even after surgery and therapy. 

Plus he wouldn’t need to use them given that Dick killed him at the end by strangling him as he insulted him, making sure the man could see his face filled with joy as he was strangling him.

Jason: he found out about this when he was at the Manor with Tim and Duke since the three were working on the same case given that Duke found some thugs using weird alien technology while robbing a bank that unfortunately got destroyed during the fight. 

Tim got involved because he saw a gang fight that were using similar weapons thanks to Duke’s descriptions and to Barbara given the fact that she provided video evidence that perfectly showed the weapons during the fight. Unfortunately, Tim couldn’t retrieve the weapons because the gangsters spread out during the chase but he managed to capture a few for questioning where he found out that the next shipment of those weapons was gonna happen in a few nights in some part of Crime Alley, to which he asked Jason for help. 

That day the three were at the Manor to see if they could find more information via the remnants of the weapons Duke brought from the first fight and were witnesses of Dick taunting Bruce with the photo while wearing a shirt with the photo of him and you right in the middle of it. 

Thanks to it and the fact that Bruce looked so angry and and on the bring of punching Dick in the face that the three got to work on finding out what was happening and immediately falling in love with you during their research. (They also stopped the thugs)

Jason, at first, was surprised at how long you’ve been working in the modelling industry before starting to dig about your past and when he found out about what your parents and what all those directors and photographers did to you he was enraged since he knew what it felt like having adults you trusted use you. 

He quickly went to Bruce and just told him that he wouldn't be available for a few days before leaving and after he came back the news started to talk about all those people missing and some who were found dead with a letter written with all their crimes, alongside a usb filled with video evidence of their crimes that immediately got uploaded to the internet after an hour of getting found thanks to Tim. 

He did hurt your parents and almost killed them but spared them, unsure if you actually hated them so he just made sure they would be stuck in the hospital for a long while. 

Tim: (you already know how Tim and Duke know about you so I'll skip it). 

Tim was surprised when he found out about you because of how obsessed Dick and Bruce were about you. But he also did his own research where he then shared it with Duke since the guy was also curious about you and he couldn't hide it from him. 

As he studied you and your past, like everyone else, he found himself more interested in how you stayed so strong after everything that happened. 

He also helped Jason in his revenge week and made sure all the evidence about those people wouldn't get deleted by hackers or the modelling industry. 

He didn't understand why he felt so close to you but after a bit of research and also with Duke continuing to point out how similar you and Tim were he started to understand. 

You were a trophy kid for your parents. Your parents had you and mostly used you as a way to make themselves look better when you became incredibly famous as a child model. 

They didn't care about you and they only gave you actual attention when they needed to show how good of a parent they were for the public. 

And that's what he experienced with his own parents and he knew what it felt like. But the only difference between the two of you is that Tim was neglected but didn't get used for money since he was a billionaire child while you got used to your parent’s greed. 

Duke: (you know, I know, we all know) 

He was one of the most sceptical to fall in love with you because he didn't feel an immediate connection with you like it happened with Dick, Bruce, Tim and Jason. 

Even after knowing about what happened to you he still didn't feel anything and he felt wrong because he saw everyone getting obsessed with you while he just thought you were attractive but didn't feel like the others. 

After a year he finally met you thanks to a gala he went to with Bruce without the others since they already ‘met’ you by being creeps. 

That gala was the start of his obsession with you. 

You were ethereal and wearing one of the most beautiful white suits that he ever saw, he actually thought you were an angel at first as you slowly walked down the stairs in 4 inch heels thanks to Barbara’s telling him via comms. 

After a bit of him watching you from away he finally mustered enough courage to walk up to you and ask for your autograph and you were so nice to him. 

Like you didn't ignore him or act annoyed, you actually talked with him as you signed what he wanted and joked a bit about some runways you did that he loved. 

And after that day he was hooked, he couldn't get enough of you that he actually beg Bruce, on his knees, to send him to any gala if you were gonna be there, even though you didn't really go to many galas unless it was something that made you interested, which was difficult to understand and use for their own gain. 

But he made sure to brag about it since he had video footage thanks to Barbara. 

_______________________________

I am done and I won't do the others because I don't want to sound repetitive for y'all. Please don't ask about the others though.

[im-just-a-boy-guys]

Expanding on an idea I had, I'll link the post :3

(MULTIMONSTER/GLORYHOLE/AFAB/FTM/ANY BODY TYPE/WERE-TIGER/ORC)

(3.8k words)

(CNC/FREE-USE/MONSTERKINK/GLORYHOLE/ANAL/ORAL/VAGANAL)

SCROLL DOWN TO THE BOTTOM TO SEE THE REFERENCES OF THE CREATURES!<3

(Heads up, pink text is just for unassorted side characters, they might make an appearance in future parts of the fic, and might have their own colors then.)

You walk into the facility excitedly. You had passed the screening, background check, drug test, lab work, and numerous other loops to fill the position you had applied for. You knew it was a sex-working job, but didn't have much more information than that, which you didn't mind.

You walked up to the front desk with your paperwork to greet the busty woman sitting there, her bright green eyes darting up at you from beneath her bangs. Her long black hair draped over her shoulders and the coils, along with her breasts bounced lightly as she moved. A flush of red swam across your cheeks and you tried to avert your gaze, pushing your view back up to her eyes.

"Hello!, I'm (y/n)! I'm here to see-", By the time you'd gotten past your name, she'd already found you on the list.

"Ah! (y/n), Spelled like this right?", She showed you the clipboard and smiled, pointing to your name with a pen. You nodded and returned her cheery expression.

"Yep! That's me!", She nodded and stood, you could now see her red, partially unbuttoned blouse and tight, black, knee-length skirt. As your eyes traveled down her body, they fell on her lovely bright red heels. All of these colors complemented her Olive skin delightfully, so much so that it was very difficult not to stare.

"Come on, hun. Follow me.", I wandered closely behind her and she led me into a large warehouse-type hallway, with many different doors leading into different hallways or rooms. We walked down the hallway and into a blue door on the left. She scanned her keycard and the door buzzed open.

"Once you've been here for a couple of days and decide that you'd like to continue, we will give you a keycard. Until then, I will come let you in."

The door opened into a large waiting area, The flooring was a beautiful dark wood, leading up to the furniture. All of the furniture was luxurious, the arms swirling elegantly. The couches and chairs were a red fabric with black flowers strewn across them, little whisps of swirls against the flower pattern. There was a Traditional Gold Damask on Bright Red Wallpaper lining the walls, all the way to a front desk with another woman with red hair and blue eyes looking up from her paperwork through her glasses.

"Oh! Is this the new hire? They're gorgeous!"

"Yes isn't he? I just know the clientele is going to love him. Alright, Cassandra, I'm going to take him back. Don't send in anyone too rough until his third day please."

She smiled and Cassandra nodded, "Of course Andromeda. As always."

She returned to her paperwork and the dark-haired woman led me into a room with an "Employees only" Sign.

"Alright, and If you just strip down, You'll be led to your room for the night. Oh, I almost forgot to ask, would you prefer human clients or monsters-", You'd almost forgotten monsters would be an option, but you felt your heart race at the idea. You'd never been with a monster before and the very thought put slick between your thighs.

"Monsters- please.", You said politely. She nodded and left you in the room by yourself. You looked into the body-length mirror as you undressed, hearing Cassandra's words in your head, calling you gorgeous. You were feeling super confident.

You heard a soft rap on your door, "May I come in, (y/n)?"

"Yes, I'm ready...", You bashfully covered yourself but only slightly. Andromeda smiled at you and gave you a soft look up and down.

"You look beautiful, come with me this way to your room.", You nodded and walked slowly behind her as she opened the door and led you down the red hallway, Along the wall, there were dark, red cushioned lifts that hung about 3 feet above the ground. The same wallpaper as the waiting room shines softly in the dim lighting. The woman opened a door with her keycard, another "Employees only" sign hanging from it.

As you entered, the hallway wrapped around as if to mirror the one you were just in, full of box-like rooms that were slightly elevated. She opened one of the secure doors, as you looked inside, the room was filled with that same, cushioned material, a pillow built into a table in the middle, and a red button hung next to the door.

"I'm going to open the door and you will put your rear end and your knees on the other side of the wall. It will secure your hips in place, and you will put your abdomen on this table. when your lower half is secured, this wall will open a small hole in front of you and the table will adjust you fowars slightly, or this wall will get closer to you."

You tried to keep up with what she was saying as you looked all over the room, figuring out how the mechanisms functioned so well. There must've been a lot of science, engineering, and thought put into these rooms. Andromeda scanned her card on the button pad, which helped adjust the walls and seating.

Once your hips were through the wall, and your knees were comfortable; you adjusted the closeness of the wall, and a hole opened up. The hole was right up next to your mouth and you couldn't help but daydream. Just thinking about the randomly colored cocks that would be in your face, how they might taste, and how thick they might be. More slick dripped down your thigh and you prayed no one would notice.

"Alright, are you comfortable?"

"Yes, Ma'am", She looked over her clipboard at how you addressed her as she checked off boxes, you almost wished she would play with you herself, now shamelessly staring at her chest, or at least what you could see under her clipboard.

"Would you like an aphrodisiac?", You looked at her confused and blushed.

"What- is that?", Andromeda put her clipboard to her hip and smiled,

"It's a drug, more spasifically a gass for us as a compsany, that makes you feel extra- in the mood."

She winked and chuckled. You nodded and looked down shamefully, "Yes please-"

"Alright hun, I'll be sure to set you up before we open. I'm going to ho around to the other side and make sure your legs are as open as they need to be, Ill close the wall once you're adjusted and we'll help all the other girls in. While you're waiting well hit you with the drugs okay?"

"Mhm"

You answered softly and let yourself relax, resting your arms on the rectangular table, your back arching softly as you adjusted. You were happy to find there was another armrest and a small lift button for the table. You messed with it, raising the table slightly and lowering it. You rested your arms on the wall, armrest, practicing how you would suck on the monsters that offered their cocks to you. Andromeda could be heard behind you,

"Oh, my~", she giggled softly as she examined you.

"Someone's exited huh? Alright, do you mind if I touch your legs and thighs? Make you look presentable?"

"No, I dont mind."

She hummed softly as her soft hands wrapped around your calves, pulling your legs carefully apart and gently spreading your pussy lips but making sure not to touch your aching hole. You wished she would, you imagined her acrylics gently rubbing at your insides, her fingertips rubbing your G-spot. You gasped softly when you felt her spread you, and she heard.

"Alright, you're all set up and look monster-ready", She chuckled and made her way back to the front hallway.

"Ok sweety, I'm going to close the holes around you and obviously the one in front of you will just close. The room will fill with a light gass, but it shouldn't feel suffocating. If it does, or anything hurts or goes wrong, press that red button to your left. Am I understood?"

You nodded and looked into her bright green eyes. You wanted to make her proud and prove you deserved to stay and that you could do the best at your job. Maybe you'd get a reward for doing well.

The hole closed and the wall behind you clenched tightly around your hips. This made you feel secure and the squeeze made you feel secure. A robotic voice sounded in a speaker,

"Is your waist secured too tightly?", I sat there for a moment and I answered out loud not sure what else I could do.

"No."

"Good. Prepare for Aphrodisiac.", As the voice went silent, you heard a soft hissing, and quiet music began to play. You took a few purposeful deep breaths as you let your mind wander to the various creatures that might violate you.

You hadn't realized how much time had gone by and soon the hole in front of you opened up and the hole around your hip loosened slightly. You could hear talking behind you, a deep gruff voice sounding out.

"Good- gods... Look at this one-", Another voice soon to follow.

"Damn, I wonder how good his mouth is...(y/n) huh? Cute name. I'll take the mouth first then we can swap out."

You looked down to see the drool pooled against your chin and your face flushed in embarrassment. You sat upright, trying to ready yourself for the fun.

"Ooh. You're really exited for this huh?", A harsh slap fell across your ass, causing you to moan out. The creature laughed and you felt a pointed tip against your sloppy hole.

Soon a thick, green cock was pushed through the hole in front of you, the pre-cum-covered tip pressed lightly against your cheek. The feeling of it was amazing, the drugs filling your head with so much glee. You rested your weight on your elbows and took hold of; what you were assuming was an orc's cock with both hands and rubbed the leaking, pink-tinted tip all over your face.

A soft groan could be heard from the other side of the wall and the creature began to thrust into the hole and against your face.

"Fuuck yes.. god whatever you're doing, pretty boy- keep going-", This excited you, and you happily obliged, and began to softly kiss against his soft tip. You smeared his leaking cum against your lips like salty lipgloss.

The animal behind you thrusted into your cunt roughly, causing you to pull the Orc just into your lips and moan out around him.

"Mmm!", You pushed your hips back against the man behind you.

"Very eager arent you, Sweetheart... I'm going to make you into a delightful little cum-mutt.", he growled as he began to push his hips forward into you, filling you and letting your walls stretch around him, all the way down to his inflating knot.

You were praying it was a Were-Tiger, you loved how handsome they were, their enticing colors, a Lion, or maybe a panther- the daydreams swam around in your head as you began to throat the Orc without much thought, swirling your tongue around his sensitive tip.

"Oh my god, that's so fucking good- yes- Good boy. I might become a regular if you keep this up...", this was encouragement, and you began to suck him into your throat deeper, bobbing your head faster.

You felt a set of claws sink into your hips deeply, but not breaking skin as the creature behind you pounded into you and pressed his knot as hard as he could against you. It was obvious how much he wanted to force it in.

The hole in front of you was big enough to fit the orc's balls through and you used one hand to steady his cock in your mouth, the other reaching down to fondle and squeeze them teasingly. Another soft hissing noise filled the space next to you and a little of the gas spilled out of the holes, encouraging the monsters to be more aggressive with you.

Your holes were getting violently fucked from both ends now and you could feel their lengths pulsing and throbbing against your walls and esophagus. You moaned loudly over the orc's cock, the vibrations sending him into a thrusting frenzy as he forced himself as deeply into your mouth as he could, cum filling your throat quicker than you could swallow, the warmth flooding your chest as you tried not to gag and choke.

Soon after, you felt the man behind you shove his knot into you as he came, his sharp tip pressing against your sensitive cervix. You squirted against him and pressed back against him, trying to ride out your orgasm on his knot. As your pussy clenched and grabbed at his cock, he made sure to grind with you, milking himself as much as he could. The orc pulled out of the hole in front of you and you could hear his heavy breathing as he leaned on the wall.

"Oh my- fuck that was so good.."

You moaned even louder, now that your mouth wasn't full as the man began to fuck you with his knot, popping it in and out as he continued to drain himself. He pulled out and groped your ass affectionately. You happily spaced out and arched your back, laying down and breathing for a moment. After about two minutes you felt a set of two giant fingers rub up and down your pussy and asshole.

The orc was using both you and the man's juices to lubricate both of your holes. You pushed your hips back against his fingers needily.

"Hold on sweet boy. I'll be inside of you soon.", This made you let out a soft pathetic whine, and then a thick, red, textured cock entered the hole in front of you. You immediately wrapped your mouth and hand around him excitedly, circling your tongue around his length.

A roar sounded from the other side, and he immediately began to fuck your mouth, which you were practically begging for. One of the orc's fingers slipped into your pussy, filling it even more than the other creature's cock did.

You drooled more around the man's length and rubbed him vigorously as you finally got to see the knot that filled you. You reached up with your free hand and treated him as you did the orc, massaging his knot and squeezing it tightly.

The orc pushed his fingers into you, into both stretching your holes. He eased them into you and your walls clenched hungrily around them. He chuckled and removed his finger from your pussy, keeping one in your virgin asshole. He moved his finger gently in and out and you could feel his tip against your cunt. The idea of his pretty tip against you made you clench more, just to squeeze out any of your slicks that you could. You'd spend all day sucking it if you could.

"Good boy~ Keep up like that and I'm going to cum down your delicious- feeling throat. God yes- right there-", The man in front of you cooed at you and you moaned around his tip louder as the orc entered you. You swirled your tongue aggressively around his tip and flicked your tongue over the small crease and hole.

His hips spasmed, forcing his cock into your mouth as his throbbing cock spewed warm, sticky cum into your mouth. You pushed your head forward to get the rest of him into your mouth, even trying to fit his knot into your mouth. You felt like your jaw was going to unhinge, but were almost excited to suck on it.

"Ugh- F-God!!", He milked himself into your mouth and tried to help shove himself into your hungry jaws, almost getting off to the feeling of your teeth scraping against his large knot.

The orc pushed himself into you deeply, enough to tease himself by rubbing against the hole of your cervix.

"Mmm, you're so tight-", He chuckled deeply and pulled his finger out of your ass and took your hips into his hands, gripping you securely as he began to thrust in and out.

The man in front of you pulled out of your mouth, allowing you to gasp and cough softly. You wiped your mouth and giggled dazedly, happily arching your back for the monster behind you.

It wasn't long before he couldn't help himself and began to greedily move faster. A soft tapping could be heard as his balls slapped softly against your clit, providing extra stimulation for yourself. You moaned loudly and cursed softly.

You began to grope your tits, pinching at your nipples with one hand and ducking on your fingers with the other, missing the feeling of something in your mouth. Your tongue felt lonely, but your pussy was being very well taken care of. The orc was shaped so wonderfully, his cock was slightly thicker in the middle, rubbing every single weak spot you had. You wanted to hold in your orgasm for as long as possible but were not successful, squirting against him and pushing your hips back into him to encourage your orgasm.

He happily moved his hips slower, guiding you through the rest of your orgasm. After you'd finished, he pulled out of you and pressed himself against you asshole.

"Now, I get to treat you like a real boy-", He laughed and pushed himself roughly into your ass and moved aggressively. The orc was needy for your tightness, huffing and grunting like an animal as he took you. You could feel his big hands wrapping around your whole waist as he used you like a fleshlight.

A heavy fog settled over you as you lay down against the table, happily just trying to relax your body for the other. You could hear the other creature talking to the orc behind you.

"God he looks so good when he's full, and his pussy is leaking cum.", The orc laughed as he thrusted.

"Isn't he? and his ass is so fucking tight- I can't get enough. We'll- UIgh- definitely have to come back-", The orc leaned forward and rested some of his weight against your back, you could feel the warmth and sweat on his chest. Your whines and whimpers subsided to quiet breaths of foggy salvation.

"We should request a private room with him, if he ended up a perma-hire." You could sense the other monster's eyes on you. You imagined him looking down at you like a steak and drooling against the soft fabric beneath you.

"God- I'm so close-", The orc grunted as he drove himself as hard as he could into you, groaning and laughing as he fucked you into a happy stupor. You felt a hot liquid burst into you and you screamed out, your tongue hanging out like a dog.

He panted and held himself inside of you for a moment before carefully pulling out. They both laughed softly and ran their hands and paws over your thighs and waist.

"You did so good for us pretty boy, we'll be back to see you again if we can. Maybe we'll have the pleasure of seeing your gorgeous face. It has to be as beautiful as your body."

They both gave your ass a good slap before you heard them leave. After a moment, you heard mechanisms wiring and the door around your hips was opened as well as the door in front of you. Your eyes drifted up to see the busty secretary who led you back here.

"Hiii Andromedaaa...", You slurred softly and giggled, absolutely fucked out of your mind. She smiled down at you and moved the hair out of your face.

"Did you have fun darling?", Her voice was soft and she held her clipboard up with her pen ready.

"It was very wonderful, I had so much fun.", She nodded and wrote something down.

"Mhm. Did they treat you well?", Her eyes didn't leave her paper.

"Yes, Ma'am.", She once more wrote something down and helped you out of the machine after tucking the clipboard under her arm. You smiled and wobbled slightly.

"Would you like some help? We have some really strong staff who can hold you up or carry you to your room to rest.", You nodded and looked around, trying to find something for you to steady yourself. Andromeda pulled a small walkie-talkie from her pocket and spoke into it.

"Hey, Can you send a carrier here, to hall 3-A please?", Within mere moments, a woman walked into the hall, she must've been at least 5ft 11'. You gawked at her, she was built very strongly, her breasts blending with muscle.

"Hello, I'll be your Carrior for the night. May I?", She smiled and opened her arms, taking a step closer. You nodded and replied softly. She had a soft Southern accent that made me swoon.

"Mhm- Please-", You reached out for her and did your best to stumble over to her. She picked you up carefully, bridal style. You looked up and studied her features. She had Darker skin than Andromeda's olive tint, a delightful, deep caramel color. Her hair was up in a ponytail or a messy bun, you couldn't tell very well. It looked to be a box dyed red but over her already dark hair.

She carried you to the room you had undressed in and into a side room you hadn't noticed. It was a bathroom with a luxurious bath and she gently laid you in it.

"Would you like me to turn on the water for you?", Her face tinted slightly darker as she looked you over.

"Yes please", You smiled up at her, blushing as well. She turned the water on to a nice hot temperature used a small picture and filled it with warm water, gently rinsing you off. The bath was then plugged and she pulled another pitcher off of the counter that was full of a creme-colored liquid and what looked like flower petals.

"If you dont mind my sayin' so- you look very pretty, uhm-", She gingerly poured the milk bath mixture into the water and over your body.

"(Y/N)", You added and giggled at her bashfullness.

"Got it. Well, I'm gonna let you clean up alright? Sure you can manage?", She stood, folding her arms in front of her like a bouncer at a club.

"Yes, I think I'll be alright.", You giggled more and smiled big. She nodded and opened the door to leave.

"You just uh- Let me know if you need me alright?"

"Alright.", You watched as she left and waited until hearing the second door to your room close before squealing happily, the night had gone amazingly and you'd been carried back to your room by the most attractive woman you thought you'd ever seen. You'd definitely be staying.

(Not my art, found on google :3)

[k00sblogger]

Summary: When you score a job as a maid after being fired, you're surprised to find out exactly what your new job consists of.

Warning: Unprotected sex, dirty talk, oral sex, overstimulation, pwp.

Pairing: boss!jimin x fem!reader

A/n: no part 2, sorry pookies

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

"Y/n.." janae whispers, softly rubbing your back in an attempt to console you as you sob into your hands.

Today sucked, no better way to put it. You'd been working as a bartender for a long time now, the perfect job to make some cash while you complete culinary school.

Amongst the students in your class you were the only one not working as a server in some upscale restaurant, but you liked it despite what your peers said. The busy atmosphere, having to be quick with the drinks, it was all enjoyable to you.

All good things come to a end clearly. You'd never had the greatest relationship with your manager, but you wouldn't have expected him to fire you for showing up late once.

For fucks sake you were the perfect employee and the moment you slip up he fires you, it just didn't feel right. Nonetheless, you were too upset and wore down to look into deeper into it.

At least not tonight.

"Why don't you come work with me?" janae's soft voice rips you out of your troubled thoughts. The proposition can't help but make you laugh.

"As a maid? No thanks." you didn't mean to be rude, and in no way were you hating on what she did for work. You just didn't think the job was for you- you barely liked cleaning your own apartment so why the hell would you clean someone else's?

"Do you want a job or not?" she says, blunter than ever. The realization makes you groan and sit up in your bed. You didn't have forever to look for a job, so maybe her offer is what you need.

"Fine." you utter, making a mental note to go on a intense job hunt so you can quit this maid shit as soon as possible.

Janae smiles and begins grabbing her belongings, slipping her jacket over her arms and slinging her purse over her shoulder. "Well, i gotta get goin but i'll make a few calls and let you know about it."

You nod, giving her a soft smile to let her know your thankful that she's willing to go out of her way to do this for you.

She sees herself out after that- and you flop back down on your bed, getting comfortable under the satin sheets. You close your eyes feeling anxious, not really knowing what you've gotten yourself into.

You didn't have time to worry though, you needed a job and thankfully- you might just have one already.

______________________________________________________

THE NEXT DAY:

"So good news!" janae announces, swinging your door open and prancing in. You crawl out of bed with a scowl, rubbing at your tired eyes.

"Remind me why i gave you a house key again." you mutter, and she laughs at the comment as she flings some papers onto your nightstand. "So look, my boss referred me to a friend of his.." she says, getting straight to the point.

The announcement makes you raise your eyebrows, setting your hands on your hips as you listen to her. "They live near each other and he says the guys been looking for a maid."

You sigh, you weren't fond of the whole maid idea anyway but now the only option is working for a guy neither of you know?

"So now i'll be alone, perfect." you respond rather sarcastically.

Janae takes a seat on the bed, tapping the papers she threw down. "Look i know it's not what you wanted but why not give it a try? Taehyung wouldn't recommend one of my friends to just anybody."

She sounds so assuring you suppose that you might as well give it a shot. "What's that?" you ask, glancing at the papers under her hand.

"Oh! A copy of his contract." she says, eagerly handing it over to you. You take it from her hands, scanning over it without actually reading. "He wants an interview with you asap, he's looking to hire someone on the spot."

Holy shit, that was.. perfect.

"Don't forget it to read that beforehand- i gotta go!" she says, standing to her feet and rushing out of the house without another word.

You don't bat in eye at it, assuming she's running late for work as always. Punctuality was definitely not her strong point, but clearly it's not too big of a deal for her boss.

You set the papers down again, beginning to get ready with a huge smile on your face.

Maybe things weren't so bad.

....two days later

*knock knock knock* You stand at the tall door of the mystery man's mansion, hair combed to perfection and clothes ironed to perfection.

You had janae send you his contact and you'd messaged him about a interview time but that was about it- so you didn't really know who exactly you were meeting.

You look up with hopeful eyes as the door opens, and your shocked to see someone who looks to be.. your age? You weren't sure why you expected it to be some old prick.. guess you judged a bit too quick.

"Hi- I'm y/n." you say with confidence, extending your pretty hand for a handshake. He takes it with a smile, giving a firm shake before he steps to the side to allow you into his home.

"Names Mr. Park- but you could call me jimin." he says, and you nod- glad that you can finally see who you'll be working for.

"I perfer mr. park" you say with a smile, it just seems more professional. He nods and walks you over to his offices, pulling out your chair so you can take a seat.

"So, i heard you lost your job?" holy fuck, you were gonna kill janae. She didn't have to tell her boss the extent of everything.

"Yeah..uh- yeah.." your voice trails off and the silence is intense and awkward to say the least, terrible way for him to start the damn interview.

"No worries." he says, chuckling as he takes a seat in the chair across from mine. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want." his voice is soft and warm, easing the tension in an instant.

You thank him, and from then on the conversation just flows. He asks you about your interests, availability, your specialties, and after he's finished you feel that it went pretty well.

"So have you went over the contract?" ...of course you didn't. You were at fault for this, janae had given it to you two days ago and you suppose you just forgot about it.

Obviously, there's no way you were telling him that after the interview had gone perfectly fine. You were almost sure that you'd got the job.

"Of course- i just.. i left my copy at home." Lie. You hadn't read any bit of that contract, it was just so long- you didn't feel like it.

"It's all good, i have a copy you can sign." he digs through a drawer behind his desk, searching for a moment before placing the paper in front of you along with a pen.

"Thank you, sir." you mutter, signing the paper immediately. You still couldn't be bothered to look at it- especially not after you told him you read it all.

"Alright." he says, a smile on his face as he takes the paper from your hands and places it into a file folder. "The jobs all yours, glad to have you."

He extends his hand this time, and you shake it with pleasure. "Great, ehm- when's my first day?"

"Tomorrow, 8AM sharp." well you damn sure weren't expecting so soon, but you weren't doing much else so it was no problem.

"Perfect, see you then." he sees you out to your car, assuring you get into the car and drive off safe before he walks back into his house.

Nothing like your old boss you think, but you like it.

______________________________________________________

THE FOLLOWING DAY:

You groan as you finally lift from the floor, throwing the wet towel to the side as you take a short break. You'd arrived at eight am just as he asked, and it was 12 now.

You wondered how he expected you to clean this whole place on your own, after all it was no where near small. You'd been here for hours already and hadn't even finished the bottom floor.

If he wanted this done in a timely manner he definitely was gonna have to get some more help around here.

Luckily, he wouldn't be home today. You could clean on your first day in complete and utter silen-

The door creaks open before you can even finish your thought, and there he is in all his glory. You mean that literallt by the way, he's adorned in different types of jewelry and a nice suit that was probably from a luxury brand you'd never even heard of.

"Y/n." he says, greeting you quietly as he sets down the bag in his hand near the front door. So much for cleaning up the clutter there.

"Hi-" is all you say, giving him a soft smile as you continue wiping down the counters. You couldn't let his presence here distract you, this was already taking you a long time being alone.

"Everything going okay?" he asks, waltzing into the kitchen like he owns the place. (He does)

"Yeah, i haven't gotten to the upstairs yet but i will soon-" you say, biting the inside of you cheek anxiously. Hopefully he didn't think you were moving too slow, this was hard work for one person.

"It's all good." he mutters, grabbing a coffee cup out of the cupboard next to you. You divert your attention back to cleaning, this time focusing on the stove

The crumbs left in the little crevices make you roll your eyes. No wonder this guy needed a maid, he clearly couldn't clean to save his damn life.

You walk around him to open the cabinet under the sink, bending down carefully aware of the skirt you put on. It wasn't the best thing to wear to clean but you were in a rush this morning.

"You're not in dress code." you hear his deep voice behind you, and stand up to turn and face him. His eyebrows are raised and both of his hands are resting on the freshly cleaned countertop.

"Dress code?" you question with an awkward laugh, but your smile disappears when you see he's not finding anything funny. In fact, he's staring at you blankly, without a word.

"Um, we didn't speak about a dress code." you say, and you know you're right. You remember the conversation very well, and he never mentioned anything about what you should wear.

You just assumed you could wear what you pleased.

"It was on the contract." he says, crossing his arms as he stares at you. You curse yourself for lying, why didn't you just tell him you didn't read his contract??

Whatever whatever, this is your time to come clean.

"Oh yes- i..i just forgot!"

he doesn't reply.

"I'm sorry."

he still doesn't say anything.

"Do you want me to go?"

he's making you feel stupid.

"Mr.park?"

He finally lets out a sigh and moves closer to you, scanning over your outfit. "Bend over."

You weren't sure you heard him right. "What?" you say, not sure of what he's asking if you. And so he repeats himself- "Bend over, y/n."

You turn around and try to look over your shoulder, convinced there's something on your back maybe. "Is there something there?" you ask, innocent as ever.

"No, i wanna fuck you." he says it casually, as if he was asking you to get him a cup of coffe. Your eyes widen, practically buldging out of your head in shock. How fucking inappropriate could he be?

"Are you insane?" you rebuttal, looking at him as if he was crazy. Shit he was in your opinion, it's your first day and he's already coming onto you like some man whore.

He begins to laugh at you, making your face scrunch up into an annoyed glare. What the fuck was so funny? Who the hell laughs after being rejected?

"You didn't read my contract." he announces, and now you're confused. You didn't read it, obviously- but how would he know that?

"I did it just-" he raises his hand, cutting you off without having to speak. "You didn't, because if you did you wouldn't be so fucking shocked right now."

He walks away from you afterward, and you stand in the kitchen dumbfounded as you watch him go into his office and come back out in a matter of minutes.

He returns with a file folder in hand, the same folder he stuffed the contract you signed into. The same contract that you payed no attention to and sure as hell didn't read.

He flings it onto the counter, the same way you did when janae first handed it to you. You desperately wished you would've just read it as soon as she handed it to you.

"Read it." he demands, it wasn't a question. You oblige him, moving closer and beginning to read the very first page. It's not long before you come across the dress code.

•must wear the uniform provided

•must look presentable daily

"The uniform was left on the couch." he mentions, and you nod in embarrassment.

He gestures for you to continue reading, and you do so. Nothing seems to weird, that is until you reach the end of the rules and requirements portion.

•must be willing to engage in sexual activities with exmployer at any time they're on the clock.

"The fuck is this?" you say, immediately looking at him in concern. "This isn't what i signed up for." you protest.

"It is, though." he says, in a much calmer tone then yours. This was nothing to him, he's probably had loads of girls in the past do this for him. Whatever this even was.

"So you just wanna have sex with me." you say, throwing the papers back down to the counter as you pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration.

"No, you're still here to clean." he says, grabbing the papers and placing it back into the folder. "But- i want to have sex with you as well."

His straight forwardness makes you squirm, something about being so open about the matter was weird for you. "I can't do this." you mutter, this wasn't what you needed.

"You tricked me."

You wanted a real job, not this.

"Look, im not gonna force you to do this." he announces, picking the folder up and shaking it in front of your face. "If you want, i'll rip this contract up and you can leave now."

You stay silent, listening to him speak as you think about your options here.

"But, i also know you need the money. I won't make you stay here, but if you do it'll be by my rules." he's stern with his words, and you know he means it.

"There's no point of you being here if you don't meet my requirements, y/n."

You understand him very well, but you don't know what to do. You didn't know if you wanted to stay, or if you wanted to go home and continue looking for a job with no hope.

Which was right? You didn't know.

He grunts as he adjusts his suit, fixing the tie around his neck. "Do you want to be here, or not?"

You think for a while, not wanting to answer too quickly. You need to be sure about this, and you keep telling yourself if this isn't what you want, then you need to go home.

But somehow, you still find yourself muttering a quiet. "I want to be here."

"Are you sure?" he asks you, and this is your chance to say you're not- but you don't. "I'm sure."

You were sure.

He nods and licks his lips. "Keep cleaning."

You take a deep breath & do as your told, grabbing the windex and spraying the huge mirror. He's making you anxious with the way he's watching you, and you wished he'd leave again.

You're tearing off a paper towel when he moves closer behind you, now close enough that his back is touching yours.

"Sir-" he shushes you, rubbing up and down the part of your thighs that he can see. "You agreed didn't you? I wanna start right away." he mutters it into your ear, and it makes your heart pound.

This was a bit early wasn't it? Can't he just give it a couple days first? You're new here for fucks sake.

"While i'm cleaning?" you ask, and it almost comes out as a whimper. It was shameful how it only took him rubbing your leg to get you all squeamish around him.

"Just pretend i'm not here.." he whispers, slipping his fingers under the hem of your dress to pull it down. He lets them fall to your ankles, and you struggle to keep wiping the mirror as he takes in the sight of your underwear.

You chose a matching set today, not on purpose- you just wanted to feel nice. The choice payed off nevertheless.

"I can't.." you whimper out, titling your head down and away from the mirror. "You can" he contrasts, sticking his hand into the purple thong you were wearing.

"Tell me how your days been." he mumbles it ever so casually, acting as if your clit isn't at the mercy of his fingertips at this very moment.

He was toying with you, flicking the bundle of nerves ever so slightly and placing little kisses on your neck.

"I-It's been good." you force yourself to whimper out a response, your body liking this treatment though your mind is telling you that you should've already grabbed your belongings and left as soon as you found out what this job consisted of.

"More, what'd you do?" he asks, and you can hear the jingling of his belt as he fumbled to get it off.

He moves hastily, soon rubbing his bare cock against your folds. "I..I prepared your dinner, it's in the fridge." you respond, hand refusing to move to continue wiping the glass.

"That's good, what'd you make me?" a gasp falls from your lips as he forces his way into your tight hole. He takes a sharp inhale too, the feeling of you wrapped around him a bit more than he himself could handle.

"Please.." jesus you don't even know what your begging for, all you can think about right now is the way he feels inside of you.

"Please what?" he counters, gripping your shoulder as tight as he could to fuck you back onto his dick. "Got me so hard, knew exactly what i wanted to do to you when you showed up in my office."

Something about that made you smile. Talking during sex wasn't something you were particularly used to but you damn sure liked it.

His dick slides in and out of you with ease, slipping out every so often due to how wet he's got you. It's not long before he's fucking into you without much care in the world.

He knew you were enjoying it though, feeling how you clamped down on him even tighter the rougher he got with you.

His hand pulls at your hair, wrapping it around his hand and tugging it as if it was some leash. "Such a pretty pussy, all mine now-"

You try your best to hear him over your little whimpers and moans, only growing louder when he moves his hand under you to play with your clit again.

His fingers are wet, and your almost sure he spit on them before playing with you. "Sir-" you rasp out, growing warm with the way his chest was pressed to your back.

"Hm?" is he all he manages to get out, too concentrated on your lower half. His eyes never left your ass, obsessed with the way it jiggled each time he thrusted into you.

He slaps it once just for his own pleaure.

And then a few more times when he hears you moan at the first.

"G-Gonna cum!" you're sweating now, still trying your best to fuck yourself against him to finally get yourself to the orgasm you've been waiting for.

He lets you do the work for just a moment, watching your pretty body work itself on him. "Just like that- cum for me.." his voice trails off on its own, and he bites his lip hard in a attempt to not let out a groan.

When you feel his hand reach around to press down on your lower stomach, you explode. You're left squirming under him all over again, squeezing his cock tight enough to make him pull out before he can cum inside of you.

He gets himself off after that. Staring at your used cunt as he jerks himself off to release. The spurts of his cum land all over your lower back, and you don't stand up properly until he's all finished.

"Wait, shit- bend over again." he says, and you comply without question.

He onto his knees behind you, bringing his hands up to take a nice handful of your ass cheeks. He licks his lips before he licks off anything left behind.

Clean up what you mess up right?

He lets out a loud grunt, repeatedly licking over your clit even when there's nothing left.

"Stop- fuck! stop!" you cry out, not ready for him to give you another, at least not yet. You reach your hand behind you in a attempt to push him away but you fail miserably, getting nothing but a harsh smack to your ass.

He only stops when you begin to thrash, and pulls away before you get too overstimulated.

"Turn around." he mutters, pulling up his pants as you breathlessly turns to face him. As soon as you get the slightest glimpse of his face, he brings his lips straight to yours.

His lips are softer than you expected, and the way he kisses is much different than the way he fucks. You lick your lips when he pulls away, giving him a shy smile like he wasn't inside of you less than five minutes ago.

"Thanks?" you mutter, not sure what to say. What do you say after getting fucked by a guy you'd only just met? Its strictly business you suppose, but still.

"No need for thanks." he says, kissing your cheek like a boyfriend would his girlfriend.

"I'll have a check for you by tomorrow yeah? Finish up just the downstairs and you're good to go for today."

Was that it? He just fucks you and sees himself out just like that? You weren't sure what you expected, but it damn sure wasn't that.

...

That same night your on the phone with janae, twiddling your fingers as she rants about her day- but you're too busy thinking about your own.

Should you tell her?

"Ah fuck stop touching that!- sorry y'know how my nephew is." she laughs. "How was your first day at work by the way?"

Holy fuck, the long awaited question. "It was good.. really good." you say, deciding then and there you should probably keep the details to yourself.

"I figured so, i had a late shift and my boss told me mr.park seemed to be in a good mood today." you smile to yourself at the comment, and find yourself wondering if it was because of you.

"Oh really?" you ask, trying to make yourself sound surprised.

"Mhm- and speaking of that.. i have good news!" her voice suddenly amps up and you raise your eyebrows though she can't see you. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

"Well, y'know how i mentioned my boss was moving away?"

you nod.

"So, he did me a couple favors and he said mr. park would be happy to have me! We'd be doing the same job!"

your smile drops instantly, what the fuck.

"Twins!! Aren't you happy?" she asks you, excited as ever.

"I've gotta go janae."

(requested by @parkjiminspersonalhoe )

[ceilidho]

coworker soap who frames the fleshlight thing as a joke but with a creepy undercurrent that you cant understand why you know it isnt a joke but you also dont wanna rock the boat so you dont tell hr bc johnny the ex-military man is a model employee otherwise and you cant help but feel hot shame run down ur spine when he says it that you are, at least a little, flattered by it bc shit dude hes HOT. coworker soap who just. doesnt bring it up again. its just boiling rhe frog. he says weird, borderline creepy shit that could be passed off as "guy talk" in any other situation (regardless of readers gender). He follows you around like a puppy and where it used to be normal for you, you feel a little creeped out now but. everyone. already refers to you as a duo. itd be weird if you stopped for no reason? right?

i don't know what broke in my mind long ago that this is like, the weirdly hottest thing in the world to me but im genuinely twitching over it right now.

model employee Johnny, knows the handbook inside and out, walks elderly customers to their cars with their bags, shows up to work early for every shift, always with a smile and a positive attitude. management loves him because his sales are also record high (i mean, it makes sense - i wouldn't be able to say no if he was helping me with a purchase and tried to upsell me). he's also a spokesperson for the company in all of their internal training videos because he was hired through some "jobs for vets" program that they just rolled out (idk i'm making this up). and the guy can stack things on a shelf like no one's business lmao like MILITARY precision/organization.

all your coworkers love him and genuinely like fist pump whenever they get put on the schedule with him because he's a blast to work with, and some of your coworkers are actually incredibly jealous that he just seems to follow you around everywhere. hangs off your every word. always seems to just pop out from around the corner whenever you're having trouble reaching something on a shelf.

but he says weird, uncomfortable shit to you sometimes. way over the line. you don't even know what to say at first when Johnny jokingly tells you that he has a fleshlight at home that he's named after you, just laughs and then stares at you for a second. and you like, give a little awkward laugh, growing more uncomfortable by the second the longer he stares at you without blinking. until something passes over his eyes and suddenly he's back to normal, clapping you on the arm and wandering off back to the men's apparel section.

he does a lot of strange shit actually. maybe insists on walking you to your car when the two of you are on the closing shift and it's well into the evening. laughs a little too hard and with too much vigour when someone calls him your shadow, his eyes just a little too bright and fervent. asks if you want to sit on his lap while he shows you how to use the forklift in the backroom. begs management to let him take his breaks with you and doesn't let you have a moment of peace, just sits with you in the breakroom or follows you to your car when you say that you're going out for lunch.

and you can't complain to any of your coworkers because the second you so much as criticize his work, they bark at you to be nice to him. he's just re-acclimating to civilian life, of course he's not perfect at his job yet. they defend him viciously. and the real jealous ones even tell on you in front of him, leaving you standing there embarrassed and on the spot until Johnny just smiles and says that it's alright. you'll just have to teach him better.

[heliads]

You and Me (A Whole Lot of History)

Based on this request: "y/n is a historian with access to old schematics so kaz hires her for a job. he keeps inventing reasons to find her afterwards until he’s forced to admit his feelings"

masterlist

You only get to study about half a chapter of your textbook before you’re interrupted by a criminal. It’s not like you mind having to put down the heavy tome you’ve been leafing through; estate law of centuries past is not your idea of some fun light reading, but you’ve been helping to piece together some fragments of an old mansion from pre-Unsea Kerch, and you’d really like to be able to decide if the master of the house your tattered documents keep referring to is the eldest son or the second eldest. 

It all depends on very specific details that refuse to make themselves known to you. So no, having an excuse to stop all this isn’t terrible, you’re just a little distracted by the fact that you’re in a private study room in the historical library of Ketterdam, and you know for certain that you locked the door that has just been opened.

You know who’s just broken into your study space. Not personally, that is, but just as well as any resident of the Barrel knows the one they call Dirtyhands– through bated breath, in stolen whispers of expensive heists and bodies left behind, no traitors tolerated and none allowed to live. The fact that Kaz Brekker has taken it upon himself to enter your study room of all the empty ones still available in the library is not promising, to say the least, although you have absolutely no idea what you’ve done to appear on his radar.

You are, in fact, quite possibly the last person Kaz would even be aware of. You’re a historian, specializing in a few select centuries and powerful families in the Kerch area. This means that you spend most of your time in old and crumbling buildings, not out in shady dealings or shootouts or any of the other places Brekker tends to frequent.

This doesn’t seem to stop Kaz from closing the door behind him and taking a seat opposite your desk. He folds his hands in front of him, idly contemplating the textbook you’re still supposed to be perusing, but remains frustratingly silent.

It falls to you, then, to pick up a conversation, which is unfair considering the fact that he’s the one who’s barged in on your space. “That door was locked for a reason, you know,” you point out.

Kaz arches a dour brow. “Yes. I opened it.”

He’s not making this easy for you. “Why?” You ask.

Instead of answering you, Brekker jerks his chin towards the book in front of you. “What’s that about?”

There is no earthly reason one of the most notorious gang leaders in the Barrel should be asking about the homework you’re doing for your job. Still, he has, so you must answer, no matter how confused you are about it. “Inheritance disputes of the fourteenth century Kerch nobles. Why, are you interested in checking it out after me?”

Kaz scoffs. “No. I just want your information, not that book.”

You feel yourself leaning back slightly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Trust me, whatever information you’re after won’t be found from me.”

Kaz shakes his head once. “No, actually, I think it will be.”

He reaches for something under his coat, and you’re hit with the brief terror that he’ll get a gun or something and you’ll die here and now, but then his gloved hand comes back out into the light carefully holding a rolled up piece of paper, which he smooths out onto the desk before you. You tuck your textbook away so you can get a better look at the thing, more curious now than afraid.

It turns out to be a copy of house blueprints. As you study it, you realize that you recognize the place. You were there recently for a project for your employer, checking up on the preservation of a few rooms. “Is this the old van Haarst mansion?” 

Brekker’s eyes flash, reminding you of the slick of oil on water. “You know about it?”

“Yeah,” you say, peering further at the blueprints. “I’ve worked there before.”

Kaz nods, looking pleased. “I’d like to buy your services. I need information on this building and your silence on the matter. Are you interested?”

Your brow furrows. “What information do you need?”

To answer you, Brekker tosses a stack of kruge onto the table. You can see the numbers on the edges, and know even without counting that this payment will be far more than what you’d earn even for a year at your job. This is the deal, then. He’ll only tell you more if you accept his money, and if you accept his money, you agree to whatever he wants.

Honestly, not the worst bargain. Ghezen knows you’ve had worse supervisors on other jobs. At least you can trust Brekker to be honest so long as you are too.

You put the stack of bills into your bag, and turn back to the blueprints with renewed interest. “Are you trying to get in or get out?”

“Both,” Kaz tells you. “I’m assuming you’ve heard rumors of Marysa’s Diamond?”

You choke out a laugh. “Have I ever.”

Marysa’s Diamond is like the Saints in flesh for historians. The van Haarst family was exceedingly rich, and one of their matriarchs, Marysa van Haarst, was said to be in possession of an incredible gemstone, the diamond named after her. It disappeared when the family abandoned Kerch for Ravka following the death of three of Marysa’s sons, and no one has seen it since.

You blow out a low breath. “You think it’s in the old house somewhere? Historians have been all over the place, we would have found it if it was there.”

“It wasn’t always,” Kaz tells you. “It’s been moved there. I have good information that the van Haarst house will act as a safe house for the stone while it’s being moved from hand to hand. They’ll keep it there overnight. I will be entering the estate with a team and taking it.”

He goes silent, as if waiting for any objections. You don’t really care about the morals of the affair, though. You have your money and you get to be the foremost expert on a historical favorite of yours. Robberies happen every day, not something to get teary eyed over.

When you don’t speak up, Kaz continues on. “They’ll be keeping the stone in a place no one can find. There will be a window of exactly one bell in which the old owner leaves the house and is replaced by the new owner, carefully staggered so the stadwatch aren’t alerted by too many people in the estate after hours. That means it would have to be a damn good hiding spot. If you were hiding a gemstone in this house, where would you put it?”

You consider the blueprints before you again. There are a thousand and one places you could hide something in there– tucked inside the grand piano, in a safe, under one of a hundred carpets– and there’s no way Brekker’s men could find it in time.

However, that means the person meant to be picking up the diamond wouldn’t be able to find it as well. They would have to find somewhere in the estate hidden to everyone else but the recipient of the gemstone.

The answer occurs to you in a flash. “Oh,” you say, “Secret room.”

Brekker blinks at you. “What?”

You point at the map. “It’s totally going in the secret room. I mean, they don’t want it to be found by anyone else, right? That’s, like, the whole point of a secret room.”

Were it not for the fact that he’s, well, Dirtyhands, you’d swear his voice turns sarcastic. “That was my understanding of a secret room, yes. Where is it?”

Were it not for the fact that he is in fact Dirtyhands, you would roll your eyes. “There’s an entrance off of the secondary hallway leading off of the dining room. Unlock the door using a little latch under the bottom of the ugly painting of the old duchess of Belendt.”

He stares at you. “How do you know that? It’s not on any map.”

You lift a shoulder. “I wanted to know why they’d keep such a foul portrait around. The elites of that time period were huge on perfectionism, every one of their paintings had to be absolutely glorious or it would get removed from their sight. That’s why there are so many old paintings in the surrounding villages, actually, the nobles would just leave these expensive oil paintings outside the castle because they couldn’t take the sight of them anymore. There was no reason they’d let such a dreadful portrait stay unless it was hiding something.”

You had been focused on the map in your hands during the majority of this little speech, fondly recalling little anecdotes from your history classes, but you remember yourself soon enough. You look up and Kaz is staring at you, almost fascinated.

You feel your cheeks heat up. “Sorry, I’m rambling. Got distracted.”

He shakes his head brusquely, although there’s a hint of pink on the tops of his cheekbones that wasn’t there before. “No, no. It’s important information. So we should be aware of any suspicious paintings?”

“Yeah,” you muse, “just look for the bad ones. Pretend you’re an art critic or something.”

The edges of Kaz’s dour glare turn themselves up into something of a humored smirk. “Will do. Thank you for the advice, L/N.”

You nod. “Have fun with the heist. Hey, if you see any older books on the history of the family, would you mind grabbing one or two for me? I’ve been trying to do some research for ages, but the library keeps stalling on getting resources to me, no matter how many requests I send.”

Kaz’s brows draw close together. “That would be unbelievably risky. We can’t take more things than we need or we could be caught.”

You grin. “I know, I’m kidding. Just a joke.”

Kaz’s expression lightens microscopically. “Yes, a joke.”

He leaves soon enough, pushing his chair away from the desk and rolling up the blueprints with a crisp snap of the paper. He warns you to keep your mouth shut about the plans, but you’re not sure that he does it with the fire you expected of a notorious gang leader. Instead, the words are soft, like he’s cautioning a friend.

You don’t hear from him again, not for a while. You’re not sure when this mysterious diamond deal is going down, and you doubt the unlucky men Kaz will grift can go to the stadwatch about this. In fact, you have no idea if it’s happened at all until about a week later. You had gone about your day like normal, not suspecting a thing until the moment you unlocked your door.

And there, centered perfectly on your desk when you get back home despite the fact that you never gave keys to your apartment to anyone, are three books. Aged, cracked covers, gilded writing. You hesitantly pick up one and read the title under your breath:  A History of the Bendtsen Family, 1200-1500. Another:  The van Almelos of the Belendt Region:  Two Centuries of Political and Economic Legacy.

Kaz. He actually got the books. Never mind that you were joking, never mind that he knew that, Kaz Brekker went out of his way to risk a heist just so he could help you out with a research project. Saints. And they say chivalry is dead.

You don’t expect to get the chance to thank him for it until he randomly crosses your path not two weeks later. He’s alone again, miraculously turning up outside your company door just as you leave to walk home. Kaz informs you that he’ll need your services again, exchanging some kruge for more words. This time, he wants details on an office building down the street, one that used to be a city hall. You’re able to take him in yourself thanks to access granted to all historians for historic places, and turn a blind eye when he grabs a few documents regarding interport commerce.

He walked you to your door that night, lingering over the threshold like a teenager not wanting to leave a first date. He shows up again after a month, using an excuse that’s less polished and more finicky. The next time, he doesn’t have an excuse at all. It’s just him, standing in front of you. No money, no plan. He just wanted to see you.

Kaz calls it ‘checking up on an investment,’ but you get the feeling that it’s not something he usually does. He walks with you by the water, he buys you drinks at a bar not even in his own pocket. It’s unusually sweet, so you can’t bite back your questions anymore and confront him about it when he hovers in front of your door for the dozenth time.

“What is this about, Kaz?”

He blinks at you in surprise. “What?”

You gesture between the two of you. “All of this. This isn’t for a job anymore. Why?”

Kaz looks away. It’s rare for him to not have a perfect poker face. Perhaps it’s yet another sign that this means something more, something that you can’t help but wish for. “I wanted to make sure you were safe. I’ve called on you for several jobs that can risk the players involved in the game.”

You shake your head. “You’ve gone out of your way to make sure no one knows about me. It’s just us, Kaz. You did that on purpose.”

“Yes,” he admits at last, “I did. I wanted something for myself. Something that wasn’t as bad as the rest.”

He risks a glance over at you, and his shoulders square slightly when he realizes you aren’t trying to fight him on this, or worse, leave. “You’re good, Y/N. Good things don’t last long around here. I want to make sure you do. I want you to stay forever.”

With me, he means. He wants to keep you in his life. His eyes flicker to your hands, and although you know he won’t take them, not yet, he wants to. That’s why you finally put together the pieces. Kaz Brekker is not good at verbalizing his feelings. Perhaps he never will be. This is the best shot he can give you, and he could not even say the word ‘love’ if it ripped his heart out with bleeding fingertips.

You've had so much over the years, and it has never been enough. Not once, not ever. A thousand coffers could empty themselves, a hundred men die and be reborn. It has never once stopped you. This, by contrast, is nothing. A canal rat's promise, most likely broken before the night is through. You know it, Kaz knows it. This is nothing. 

Yet it is the most true thing you have ever had, the one solid stone in a wall about to come crumbling down. It is small, barely there at all, but still worth it. Maybe that is why you stay, for the hope. For him. It is enough.

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @cameronsails, @deadreaderssociety, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @eclliipsed, @mayfieldss, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000, @baju69, @crazyhearttragedy

[toomuchracket]

if you're too shy (office nerd!matty x reader fluff)

in which the other music journalist at the magazine you work at is the cutest weird boy you've ever met. enjoy <3

in hindsight, coming back from a two-week holiday the same day the magazine goes to print was a misguided idea.

your editor-in-chief tells you as much when you enter the office, pulling you into a half hug. “don't get me wrong, it's lovely to see you,” she says, scraping her hair back into a bun and securing it with a pencil. “but you'll be doing nothing all day, i'm afraid. maybe some last minute proofing, but i think everyone in nightlife and reviews has been alright. double-check with marianne.”

you do just that, weaving your way through people running copy and coffee between departments until you reach your own. it's mercifully quiet compared to everywhere else, the ten or so people dotted at desks around the sunlit room looking at their laptops and wearing headphones; you actually have to flick marianne on the back of the head to get her to notice you. “oi.”

“who the- oh, hi!” marianne's face softens when she sees it's you, and she stands to pull you into one of her infamously bone-crushing hugs before pulling back to get a good look. “well, you look annoyingly well-rested. but i suppose a fortnight in a spanish villa will do that to you. bitch.”

“i had a great time, thanks for asking,” you grin. “how’s everything been with you? stressful, without your star reporter?”

“well, for starters, you've been succeeded for that title.”

you frown only half-jokingly, scanning the room to try and guess which of your colleagues has replaced you as marianne's unofficial favourite. “who the fuck…?”

“language,” she lightly slaps your arm, in spite of the fact she was just about to say the same thing, then smiles suspiciously. “and i’m talking about our newest recruit.”

the brewing annoyance in your stomach dissipates immediately, replaced by a flock of tiny butterflies. “oh,” you try to keep your smile to a minimum. “that's okay. i like him.”

marianne sees right through you, though. she rolls her eyes. “oh, you would.”

“what?”

she sighs, motioning for you to lower your voice and modifying her own to a whisper. “he’s a curly-haired pretty-eyed vaguely scrawny white boy. you'd like him even if he didn't think the sun shone out of your arse.”

“marianne!” you hiss. “he does not!”

“don’t act all indignant, he has literally looked over at you once every thirty seconds since you walked in - and don't look, idiot, you'll freak him out. we need him on the ball, today of all days,” she rubs her eyes. “but yes, he’s very good at his job. i like him, even if i've no idea what in the world he goes off on his tangents about. great writer.”

“yeah, he is,” you risk a glance towards him, but all you can see is the back of his laptop - covered in stickers for things you can only name half of - and dark curls peeking out from the side of his headphones. “i like the references. different perspective from me, innit? that's why we hired him, after all.”

“who's we? you were too pissed off that i was hiring another music critic to agree to be part of the interviewing panel.”

you'd love to disagree, but you really were pissed when marianne and the other editors told you they were expanding the nightlife section. it didn't matter that it was in response to an increase in funding and readership, with the magazine switching to a print format as well as the online edition you'd contributed to since its creation - your fierce independence and pride meant you didn't take the news well, made you think it was an issue with your competence and writing ability that meant you'd be getting a new colleague. but once you were reassured that you'd still get to keep the Big Gigs and restaurant reviews to yourself, you were slightly more agreeable to the idea.

and once you actually met the new guy, stumbling over both his words and his own feet as he introduced himself, you couldn't quite remember why you'd been opposed in the first place.

“well,” you say, snapping back into reality. “thank goodness i'm over it now.”

“because you want to get under him?”

“no!” you stand indignantly, and then grin. “on top, maybe.”

“good grief,” your boss shakes her head. “don't you go bringing it up to him - excuse the pun - before this edition goes to the printers,” she points at you as you move to walk away. “or talking to him at all until then, actually, you hear me? i love you, but you're a distraction to him, and he's my best journo.”

“he's not, but alright,” you pat her head as you walk back towards the door. “i'll be in the staff room if you need me. and i won't talk to anyone, mum, i promise.”

“i'm only five years older than you!”

“whatever you say!” you reply in a singsongy voice, giggling to yourself as you wander towards the sunny kitchen. the little radio on the windowsill is on, as it always is, and you nod along to the cure while you wait for the kettle to boil. once you've made a cuppa (and grabbed a slack handful of the chocolate digestives marianne always keeps the cupboard stocked with), you settle at the table with your laptop, typing out ideas for your next feature and doing your best not to think about the boy down the corridor you've been instructed not to talk to for the time being. for the most part, you succeed.

that is, until he walks into the staff room two hours later.

you frantically wipe your face of biscuit crumbs as he does, smiling as sweetly as you can for someone with no idea if she has chocolate on her teeth or not. “hi, matty. how are you?”

“oh, hi! i'm, uh, i'm alright,” matty smiles widely enough that his verbal emotional downplaying is blatant - still, he's so cute, beaming at you like that with his little sweater paws. he’s always in a jumper or cardigan or hoodie of some kind, and on more than one occasion in the three months you've known him, you've absolutely thought about literally cosying up into him instead of doing any work. “how was spain? and the wedding - it was a family wedding you were going to, yeah?”

“that's right,” it’s not a big deal, but you glow at the fact he remembered. or maybe it's the soft intent he looks at you with. “it was lovely, yeah. although - wait, have we gone to print?” you ask, suddenly recalling marianne's instructions. “i'm not keeping you from work?”

matty's curls bounce as he shakes his head, light hitting off the metal hoop in his earlobe (that you're only mildly obsessed with). “we've gone. i'm just in here to get my lunch,” he pulls a tupperware from the fridge, cheeks rosy as he waves it. “made some soup last night.”

he makes his own soup. the thought is so endearing that it takes everything in you not to sigh; you settle for a smile. “carrot and coriander?”

“you can tell from one glance?”

you shrug. “s'my favourite.”

“really?” matty's face seems to light up. “mine too,” he busies himself with putting the tupperware in the microwave, taking his time pressing buttons and turning dials before looking bashfully at you. “so, you had a nice time at the wedding, then?”

“i did, thank you. do you, um,” you start, suddenly shy. “d'you want to see some photos from it, while you're waiting for the soup to heat up?”

he nods back just as shyly, sitting quite awkwardly on the seat next to yours; while you open your photos app, matty twists a stray curl around his finger, and the movement seems to send your nerves into vibration as well as the molecules in the air. with a series of shallow breaths, you locate the folder of the wedding pictures and set your phone on the table. “feel free to flick through them, if you like.”

“thank you,” matty sits forward, carefully swiping through the album. you lean on your elbow, doing your best not to beam adoringly at the way he looks intently at each photo before moving to the next. “the venue is really beautiful.”

“yeah, it was stunning.”

the next picture is one of you in your bridesmaid dress, taken by your sister the morning of the wedding. you watch, slightly heartsick, as matty's mouth falls open as he looks at you; the feeling worsens when he tentatively does the same thing in real life, those pretty eyes of his sparkling as he smiles softly. “so are you. really. like,” he looks down at the photo again, shaking his head slightly before looking back up at you. “that colour is beautiful on you. honest. you look incredible.”

“thank you,” the words come out in a whisper, and the two of you silently smile at each other for a moment until you clear your throat. “um, there are more of the official pics on my instagram, let me… actually, do you have my private account?”

“oh, no,” matty shakes his head again - god, you love the way his hair moves. “just the one for your writing.”

“well,” you tap on the app with an almost-imperceptibly shaky finger. “that's the username there, if you'd like to follow. no pressure, of course. don’t wanna fuck up your algorithms or anything.”

your nervous chuckle at the end of the sentence turns to a giggle when you see matty's face as you share your username; it lights up so much that you'd be forgiven for thinking he'd just won the lottery. he pulls his own phone out and taps away at it. “you don't have to follow me back, by the way,” his cheeks flush a deep red, a beautiful colour. “m'not posting anything interesting.”

doubtful. he might be one of the most interesting people you've ever met, all talent and sweetness and a wealth of cultural understanding wrapped up in a sweater and a pretty face. “no, i'd like to.”

“alright. thank you,” matty's cheeks seem to get even redder as he watches you hit follow back, face twitching as though he’s trying to stop himself smiling too big. when the microwave dings, he all but skips over to it, almost tripping over the leg of his chair in a sweetly awkward way; he swears under his breath when he lifts the steaming container out, turning back sheepishly to look at you. “sorry.”

“don't worry,” you grin at him, feeling slightly bold. “i still think you're sweet when you swear.”

he giggles, and the noise makes your heart leap; in addition to being one of the most interesting people you think you've ever met, matty healy is without doubt the cutest. watching his lips pout in concentration as he stirs the soup and checks the temperature, you briefly imagine what they would feel like against your own, how he would be if the two of you were to kiss. just as giggly and endearingly awkward as he usually is, you think - eager to please, lips and tongue a little sloppy and unsure but enthusiastic enough for you not to mind, slightly unsure of where to put his hands so as to not make you uncomfortable… the scene is as clear as day in your head, and you really, really want to recreate it. you'd devour him right now if you could, the sweetheart.

and then, matty reaches up to get a bowl from the shelf, the hem of his shirt goes with him, and your want to devour him suddenly takes on a less pg-rated meaning than it did a second ago.

he has a fucking hip tattoo.

you’re pretty sure it's only a sliver of the full design you can actually see, but the hints of red and blue and black ink and the glimpse of his happy trail are enough to fuck you up completely. as you register what you're seeing - what you're discovering about the seemingly buttoned-up, shy, unassuming-to-everyone-but-you matty - your breath catches in your throat, forcing you to cough quite obviously on the mouthful of lukewarm tea you'd just taken. one cough turns into another, and you clap a hand over your mouth to make your tattoo reaction attack the least obvious it can be.

still, the ever-perceptive man across the kitchen notices, running over to crouch in front of you with concern filling those beautiful eyes of his. “you alright, darling?”

darling?! no, you most certainly aren't alright.

but you can't tell matty that, so you stick to gesturing to let him know you'll reply once you've managed to swallow your tea. “i am, yeah, thanks. tea just, y'know, went down the wrong way.”

matty tilts his head. “you sure?”

“yeah,” you smile, slightly embarrassed. “really. thank you, though.”

“of course,” he smiles in return, knee brushing lightly against your leg as he steadies himself; he looks down, eyes widening as he registers how close the two of you are, and quickly stands. “i'd better, y'know, get my lunch.”

you nod, despite the strange loneliness settling into your bones at the lack of him next to you. “i can head back to the office, if you want peace?”

“no, no, please stay!” matty all but gasps, turning to look at you like a deer caught in headlights - he clears his throat, blinking a few times before speaking again. “please don't feel the need to leave on my account, i mean. or feel obliged to talk, really - i was just going to read.”

“you're sure i won't be a bother to you?”

matty smiles warmly, shaking his head. “that'll never happen.”

christ.

“okay,” you whisper, winking at him - and savouring the little giggle that bubbles out of him when you do - before turning back to your laptop. 

matty settles at the table a minute or so later, pulling a paperback from his back pocket and holding it open quite attractively with one hand. you peek over the rim of your laptop at him every so often, never for more than a couple of seconds at a time; partially to avoid the mortification of him catching you, but mostly because if you look at him any longer you know your mind will wander back to that fucking hip tattoo of his, and what it might look like completely visible to you, and what it might feel like under your lips, and what noises matty might make if you slowly dragged your tongue all over it before moving to the side to lick a wavy line up the length of his-

enough. he's literally right there.

the room feels hot, all of a sudden, your cheeks flushing and throat drying to match. on only slightly shaky legs, you pick up your waterbottle and head to the water fountain, crouching as best you can to fill it. even though he stays silent, you can feel matty’s eyes on you from across the room, but it doesn't bother you or freak you out in the way that other men ogling you at a water fountain would - it's quite obvious that matty has some sort of more-than-platonic affection for you, but his gaze has always been one of appreciation and awe when it comes to you, not the predatory one you've come to expect from men. and yet, his is the only male gaze that makes you feel slightly nervous, unused to being looked at with such reverence and tenderness by an attractive boy; in complete contrast, though, it also makes you lower your guard, pull down the bricks from the wall you've built around your heart, and allow yourself to actually feel something for matty, for once. something good, honest, promising.

matty looks up from his book as you sit down, smiling pleasantly. he opens his mouth as if to talk, and then closes it immediately, shaking his head slightly.

this intrigues you. “you okay, matty?”

“hmm? oh, yeah, i was just thinking,” his cheeks go a shade of pink you would buy in blush form if you could find it. “when you were first talking about the wedding… you said although, and then we got off-topic slightly. what, um, what were you going to say, if you don't mind me asking?”

“oh, right,” you wrack your brain, doing your best to not get distracted by how cute you find his perception. “i think i was going to say something about how, as good as it all was, there's nothing like a family wedding to remind you of how single you are.”

his jaw falls open. “you… you don't have a boyfriend? wait, sorry,” he blinks. “or a partner?”

you shake your head, biting the inside of your lip to stop yourself smiling. “no boyfriend, no. and thus, constantly advised by a never-ending flock of aunts that i should get one so i could get married.”

“christ,” matty winces. “yeah, my cousin's getting married in a couple of months - not looking forward to everyone asking me when i'm going to meet a nice girl and settle down, as if i can answer.”

no girlfriend. how interesting. “you're single? really?”

he rolls his eyes, still smiling at you. “be serious. course i am.”

“i am being serious! that surprises me,” you lean on one elbow, tilting your head to look at him. “you're lovely, matty.”

matty’s eyes widen, and he blinks adorably a few times before he smiles shyly again. “thank you. i think the same about you.”

“you do?”

he simply nods, total sincerity in those pretty eyes. 

you feel your cheeks warm, but you make no effort to hide it. “thank you.”

matty shrugs. “just telling the truth, darling,” he looks panicked when he realises what he's said. “sorry for calling you that, twice, it just-”

“i like it, matty, it's alright,” you say reassuringly. “and i like-”

“oh, thank god you're both here,” marianne bursts into the room, carrying her laptop; you frown petulantly at her for ruining your moment, but shuffle your chair round closer to matty's so she can sit at the table too. “something weird’s happening.”

matty squints. “what d'you mean by weird?”

marianne pushes her laptop towards you both. “there's overlap in your planned reviews - the band you're going to see at the end of next week, matthew, have just been announced as the opener for the next Big Gig. i need to know how we want to go about this.”

“oh,” he looks at you. “i don't mind if you want to just review them as part of yours.”

you're shaking your head vehemently before he even finishes talking. “no, that's not fair,” you tap your lips with your index finger the way you always do when you concentrate, trying to ignore the glow within your body when you see matty looking at them from the corner of your eye; inspiration strikes, and you turn to marianne. “matty could come with me, couldn't he? if he reviews their headline gig, and then he does a follow-up review of their opening set in the Big Gig feature - we could just do a joint byline, work together on it.”

both of them turn to look at you in slight shock. marianne is the first to speak, her words trickling out slowly as she processes the fact you've just agreed to let someone else work on a Big Gig for the first time. “you're… happy with that?”

“if matty is, yeah,” you turn to him, smiling. “sound alright?”

he beams. “more than. thank you.”

“of course,” you turn back to the boss. “there you go. sorted.”

she sighs, relieved. “thank goodness for that. alright,” she stands, picking up her laptop and heading back to the main office. “i'll coordinate press passes. thanks for making that simple - you're both stars.”

“anytime!” you call after her, before turning back to matty. “you're sure you're happy to do this? i realise i've just given you more work to do, but…”

he laughs, a beautiful sound. “nah, i don't mind. also,” he shuffles in his seat, bashful again. “i actually have a spare ticket for the first show, if you'd like it - bought it before i saw it was on the review roster. doesn't seem fair that i get to go to two gigs while you only get one, i think. i mean, no pressure, obviously, but the offer's there.”

god, he’s so fucking cute. how could you ever say no to him? “i'd like that a lot, matty, thank you,” you beam at him. “i think us working together is going to be a lot of fun.”

matty beams back just as enthusiastically. “i think so too.”

[lit3rallyll0yd]

hello!! i checked to see if you're taking requests and couldn't see anything otherwise but if you aren't then pretend i never sent this ;)

but, what would it be like being partnered with chuuya and dazai when they were teens? having grown up in the mafia and instantly clicking, does reader like either of them etc etc!

if this isn't your cup of tea - no fuss at all! thank you xx

teen reader partnered up wit 15!skk

warnings: out of character? mention of tourture/abuse. platonic ssk x reader. cursing from chuuya. they may sound/act possesive? but not in a weird, romantic way.

get ready to be in the middle of their arguing. you could just be chilling alone, maybe enjoying a book your reading or getting ready for your next misson and then suddenly these two enter and start going off, now infront of you.

curses fly out of chuuyas mouth as dazai keeps mentioning "dog" to refer to the gravity manipulator.

"last i checked, y/n was there when you lost my bet! you would be my dog and act like one only for me!! right y/n, you were there!!" dazai would scream at you and you would give him a blank stare.

"piss off with that, don't get y/n into your bullcrap!! besides, they wouldn't give two craps about your stupid bet!! stop trying to get them all warmed up to you to put me down! y/n, put this bastard to sleep and shut him up before i kill him myself!"

each of them would ask who's side your on, but in reality you couldn't give two shits. you also usually get them to stop by simply using your ability...which dazai could esaily nullify, however he just lets you seperate them.

chuuya growls at use when you use your ability on him, but just crosses his arms and ignores the two of you.

mori thought after hiring you, and forcing you to join dazai and chuuya on their missions would hopefully help them, and stop them from shouting and arguing...however you don't and they just dont shut up.

they also really try keep you away from one another. you could be hangjng out with dazai, and then chuuya all of a sudden drags you away; dazai growing upset and whines.

"chuuuyaaa~ don't take them away from me, we we're going to go for a walk! here i thought you would be a good dog for your master today!"

"shut the hell up, shitty bastard! you've forgotten about our mission tomorrow? mori wants us to get ready for it. i dont care about your walk- go for one by yourself!"

you swear, you'll go insane if your with them for another minute.

although with every moment your with them you'd want to slap the living hell out of them...you would protect them to the best of your ability to get them out of harms way. they almost, mostly dazai, go through dangerous ways to get the job done...much to your hatement.

however dazai will thank you in the most cheesy way; "look at that chuuya- they care for me more then you ever will!"

*cuts to you slapping him upside the head*

"DAZAI!! shut your mouth before i bury you under ground!!" cuuuys would shout at him after kicking a enemy in the head and to the ground.

"not a horrible way to go actually- being by alive- but by your hands? ew, i'll pass."

takes everything in chuuyas power to foucus on the battle beside dazai.

they won't admit it, but the way dazai finds chuuyas corruption interesting, he finds your amazing as well but his ego would never let him say it out loud. he would give a proud smile when he watches you interogate someone by the tourture of your ability. meanwhile chuuya left; not being able to watch you hit the hell out of the soul. he also finds your ability cool, but sometimes you can be terrifying with it. no one wonder mori hired you!?

chuuya doesnt seem to get as upset with you then he does with dazai. him and dazai grew much closer togethet before you joined the mafia- so you already knew they would be closer...but he's grown used to you. that doesnt mean he won't argue with you too. you dont piss him off as easily but if you want to be annoying to him on purpose, expect him to raise his voice at you.

[hansensgirl]

summary. | Mr. Barber’s feelings for his cleaner are more than professional.

prompts. | Andy Barber + Yandere + “Think an old man like me can keep up?” + conditioning/grooming, requested by @baalsgurl1913!

pairing. | Dark/Yandere!Andy Barber x female!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON (mostly dubious consent), abuse of power, stalking, yandere, obsession, spying, orgasm (f), large age gap (reader is legal), grooming/conditioning, gaslighting/manipulation, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics

You’ve always had a soft spot for Mr. Barber—and it seemed he had one for you, too. 

You would clean the Barbers’ house every now and then when Andy and Laurie’s jobs made them too busy, and their son couldn’t bother to learn how to help out. You didn’t mind it. They paid a good amount and were always so kind to you.

But that was before it happened. And now Mr. Barber hires you because he’s grief-stricken, and you’ve known him for so long.

It’s not hard to tidy up behind him. He has manners, and you can’t help but feel bad for him. Andy’s entire life fell apart, and everyone watched in amusement.

Everyone except for you. No, you would never. You’re a good girl; he knows it. So sweet with your patterned dresses and adorable sweaters. You tell him ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ for every little thing, giving him those eyes that make him want to wreck you on the spot.

It really isn’t his fault that he watches you outside your work hours. He has to keep you safe anyway—don’t you know there are dirty criminals on every corner? And, plus, you made him do this. You’re too pure, too wholesome—and all his. Even though you don’t know it yet.

“That’s it for today, sir. Is there anything else you need?” you hum, light jacket on your shoulders with your purse on the chair since you just polished the countertops. “Actually, there is something else you could do for me,” Andy says, grunting as he stands up from his spot on the couch. 

He stayed there the entire time, making sure you did your job well. You didn’t mind.

“Oh, what is it?” you ask, already shrugging your windbreaker off. “Have a drink with me?” he offers, walking to the fridge. He grabs a beer for himself and a coke for you, knowing that you wouldn’t want to drive home with alcohol in your system. But you don’t have to worry. Not anymore, at least.

“Er, thank you. You’re always so kind to me, sir,” you tell him, sitting down on the couch. He joins you, his thigh touching yours. You involuntarily try to make yourself smaller, nervously giggling at the contact. When you look up at the much older man, he looks different. Pained, almost, with dark eyes and a clenched jaw. Is he upset? Did you do something wrong? Worry gnaws at you.

Andy looks down at you and remembers when you first started working for him. It was a warmer day than usual, and he had come home early at Laurie’s request. She was worried a young thing like you—who had turned eighteen a few months prior—would steal something valuable from the house.

She didn’t know that the only priceless thing had become you, and the worth of their home would decrease drastically when you weren’t there.

You take a sip of your chilled drink, resisting the urge to chug it after all your hard work.  

Andy places a hand on your thigh, but you don’t think much of it. He’s done this before, especially when he feels you’ve been exceptionally good that day.

“Y’know, honey… I really appreciate you coming here so often,” he starts, patting your leg. You smile, slightly embarrassed by the attention. “Really. I mean, you’ve put up with me for so long—through everything…”

You nod sympathetically, knowing what he’s referring to. 

“I just feel like I owe you. More than a raise or a gift,” Andy admits, and you start shaking your head. “No sir, really. I’m fine—thank you for everything. I already have so much,” you say. He quirks an eyebrow.

“Do you?” he asks, puzzling you. You take a larger gulp of the Coke. “Yeah…” 

“Don’t lie, sweetie. I know you don’t. Going back to that little matchbox of yours? With your slob of a roommate waiting for you to clean her messes?” he scoffs, and your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What do you mean, sir?” you question.

“You know what I mean. I’ve seen it all, honey. I can give you so much more—haven’t I already?” he reasons, and it’s only when you feel a chill of air that you realize that your dress has been lifted up, and he can see your underwear. Oddly, you don’t fight him. It’s Mr. Barber—kind, sweet Mr. Barber, who cracks dad jokes and isn’t afraid to order pizza nearly daily. He’s been touchy before, but you’ve never paid any mind to it. Maybe that’s how he shows love.

“And please, call me Andy. You’ll have to, eventually,” he says, inching his fingers closer to your core. Your breathing gets heavy from nerves and desire. “I– I just don’t get it, sir—I mean, Andy. I’m a little scared?��” you confess, and he coos at you.

“That’s alright, sweetie. I’m here for you. Don’t you know how much I love you? I would never hurt you.”

His words make you dizzy. You feel his large, warm hand dip into your panties, and you let out an exhale. You’ve got a vice-like grip on the glass bottle he gave you, but it nearly slips when Andy finds your clit with ease. 

“Now, I know you’re young and all…” he starts, rubbing slow circles on your nub. He can feel your wetness, and it takes all of him to not pounce on you right then. You gasp from the pressure, and your free hand reaches down to grab his wrist, but you don’t push him away. Instead, you keep him there as if he has threatened to pull his hand away and leave you a writhing mess on his couch. “Think an old man like me can keep up?” he asks, and your eyes flash to his face. He’s got mild wrinkles and a slew of greys peppered into his hair and beard. You’ve always admired the look, even though he was married. “It’s been a while, but I can go a few rounds. You get me so hard, honey.”

You quickly come undone on your boss’ fingers, and he drinks in the sight, even though it certainly isn’t the first time he’s seen you have an orgasm. And it will never be the last. 

[pretzel-box]

PROLOGUE: WELCOME TO URBANSHADE

Word count: 3,3k

Tags: GN!reader, Graphic mention of surgery and experiments on a human body

Summary: You get hired by Urbanshade, thanks to your father, but every start has its obstacles. And some obstacles might feel deeper than they should be.

The time on the wall clock showed it was just a few minutes past noon. Warm sunlight gently crept into the waiting room through the tall panoramic windows of the building. A quick glance to the side, catching a glimpse of the clock, was enough to tell you that it would still be a few moments before it was time to move from the comfort of the leather chair you were currently sitting on. Your freshly disinfected hands clung nervously to your phone as you swiftly scrolled through the list of contacts you had saved over time. You were so focused that it startled you slightly when another caller ID popped up on the bright screen, displaying the picture of your father's face.

This particular man had called you a lot lately, sticking his nose into your business after you dared to ask him for a tiny favor, hoping he would help since you are his beloved only child. But one thing you didn't expect from him at that specific moment was that he would take the opportunity to call you, considering that he was somewhere on the ocean.

He works as a high-class businessman, primarily sponsoring a company called Urbanshade. You didn't know much about them, but your dad mentioned something about how they specialize in underwater mining with some high-tech inventions. This explained his temporary stay on one of Urbanshade's ships, where they were testing and showcasing another new underwater mining robot of some sort, called Trenchbleeder. Your dad had funded the whole project over the past few months, so he was more than excited to see how his money was being put to good use.

"Did they call you yet?" Despite the slight static, the seagulls, and the waves in the background, you could make out the strict tone in his voice. Of course, he was curious. You had asked your dad if he knew someone who would hire you, his child. And naturally, the first thing he applied you for was a position at one of Urbanshade's research facilities. They weren't really looking for new employees in the first place, but your dad was very close to the higher-ups, so he bought the job for you. The fact that he paid the company to hire you made your stomach twist in discomfort, but it was too late to turn back and say no. "I risked a lot by doing that for you."

He referred to the payment he had made on your behalf, and you could feel the pressure he had placed on your shoulders.

You nodded, even though your dad couldn't see it over the phone. "I'm at their building, sitting in the waiting room. We're signing the contract today." You tried to sound confident, but you knew your dad could see right through your facade. "They should be calling me into the office soon."

Your name was called loudly through the room before your dad could reply, and he would probably have given you another warning not to mess it up for his reputation's sake. "Sorry, Dad, it's time."

You ended the call with a swift push of the red button, putting your phone on mute so nothing would distract you during the meeting with one of the higher-ups at Urbanshade. The lady at the reception told you where to go, and another employee guided you to a glass room, where a middle-aged man in an expensive-looking suit was seated. His arms were crossed, and the way he scanned your application papers made your stomach turn.

The man must have noticed your little stare from the other side of the glass wall because he looked up from the file, and it wasn't hard to miss the coy smile on his lips. The previous expression on his face was quickly replaced with a more welcoming one. "Ah, we finally meet. Your father has already told me a good deal about you."

"I am grateful for the opportunity to work for your company, Mr. Wiltshire." First impressions count, especially at a company like Urbanshade. So you took the opportunity to present yourself in the best possible light, even if it meant pretending to be something you're not—in this case, motivated and interested. Your hand almost raised itself to offer a polite and respectful handshake.

"I assure you, we are the ones who are honored to welcome you to our team. Welcome to Urbanshade."

A few months passed after Urbanshade recruited you, and it didn't take long for you to get the hang of all the small details involved in your job at the luxurious office—details like how the overpriced coffee machine worked, how to sort the endless stacks of paper files, and even how to avoid getting on your new boss's bad side. At this point, you'd even admit it feels like being a well-paid version of an intern since your higher-ups only trusted you with minor tasks so far.

Despite the simplicity and comfort of the tasks, you volunteered more than once for harder assignments, showing your most motivated side in the hope of getting a little more action in your otherwise boring life. But every single time, Mr. Wiltshire blocked you off with a polite smile and a shake of his head. "You're not ready yet."

It was frustrating; you felt there was more behind it than just a lack of skills, but you couldn't force your way into the deeper levels of the job without risking ruining it all for yourself.

A high-pitched female voice suddenly pulled you out of your regular daydreams, making you aware that you were indeed not alone at the moment. "Ah, look who's here!" Your black-haired co-worker beamed at you with the fakest smile you had ever seen, making you raise your eyebrow slightly. The action didn't go unnoticed by her, and you could feel her sharp acrylic nails digging uncomfortably into your left shoulder. "Be a sweetheart," she started again, leaning in from behind and speaking directly into your ear, "and take care of my files too, alright?" She no longer tried to hide her snarky tone and instead showed you her true nasty attitude. "We don't want Mr. Wiltshire to see how much you slack off at work, right, hon?" The pain slowly disappeared as she lifted her hand from your shoulder, wiping it off on her expensive business blazer. A glance over your shoulder to meet her gaze was enough.

Her smug smile hit a nerve deep inside you, but you swallowed your newfound anger like the smarter person and just nodded without a word. In the end, it wasn't worth the drama, and maybe you could use the opportunity to score some extra credit points with your boss if he saw you doing some well-executed extra work.

The fake woman left the moment you tried to open your mouth to give her a straightforward answer, leaving you behind like some worthless object in the middle of the office. By this point, it wasn't really offensive to you since you strongly disliked that woman for her weird attitude toward you, and every second without her was surely a good second. After watching her leave and get into the elevator at the end of the hall, you turned around too and slowly made your way to the coffee machine in the plain break room, pouring yourself a nice cup of dark liquid into your favorite mug. You would surely need it if you had to put in some extra hours to get the work done. With newfound motivation, you left the room and headed to your co-worker's personal office.

It was a neat space inside a glass room, furnished with minimalist-style furniture and a nice office chair made of quality leather. Some of the woman's personal items were scattered across the mahogany table, and your lips curled up as you felt the smooth surface of the table, thinking you could earn one of those fancy offices yourself if you worked hard enough.

Then you saw the stack of brown files on the table. It was in an unacceptable, messy state, with paper corners sticking out from all sides and some mysterious stains on the front covers. Yet, the weirdly pleasant smell of cigarettes and old paper hit your nose, filling you with a strange, comforting feeling all over again. Your eyes also didn't fail to notice the bright yellow note on the stack, with a hastily written message in black ink:

"Please sort by Thursday night. Return Z-13 file to higher-up when done."

Reading it gave you a sudden boost of excitement, seeing that there must be an interesting file usually in the hands of higher-ranked people. You didn't question it but rather saw it as an opportunity to dive deeper into the business that Urbanshade conducts, sensing a way to escape the boring intern tasks and join them on the front lines, maybe even leading a mining operation in the exciting underwater world.

Your hands took the small note from the files, discarding it without a care into the bin, assuming your co-worker was aware of it since she knew about the work the files required. It was another simple job of sorting papers and making sure everything was in its place before returning them to the basement archives below the building.

The warm, rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee replaced the smell in the small office as you took a careful sip from your favorite mug. The dark liquid was the only thing keeping you grounded amidst the tension of the day. Your fingers traced the rim of the warm cup absentmindedly as you scanned the chaotic stack of files on the mahogany desk.

Determined to make a good impression by sorting through the files with precision, you placed your mug at the edge of the desk, within easy reach. You started to carefully separate the documents, making piles according to their categories, when your mind began to wander.

You reached for another file, but just as you were about to grab it, your elbow knocked against your mug. Time seemed to slow as you watched in horror as the mug tipped over, spilling hot coffee across the desk. The dark liquid cascaded like a wave, soaking the neatly sorted papers in seconds.

"No, no, no!" you gasped, frantically grabbing at the files, trying to salvage what you could. But it was too late—the coffee had already seeped into most of the pages, leaving large brown stains that spread and blurred the ink in matter of seconds. The once crisp documents were now soggy and wrinkled, some of the text smearing into an illegible mess.

Your heart pounded as you stared at the ruined files. A wave of panic surged through you. These weren’t just any papers; they were official documents, meant to be returned to the higher-ups. And that one file—about something called Z-13—it was supposed to go directly to someone important. You remembered the note and its simple instructions, now crumpled in the waste bin, and felt a sinking dread.

Grabbing a handful of napkins from the small break room drawer, you desperately tried to blot the coffee from the papers, but the evidence of your mistake would be painfully clear, no matter how hard you tried to save the files. The edges of some files were curling up, the ink bleeding out, and some of the pages were beyond saving. The more you wiped, the worse it seemed to get.

You slumped into the leather chair, your hands trembling as you stared at the coffee-stained disaster in front of you. What would Mr. Wiltshire say? Worse, what would your father think if he found out? The pressure to prove yourself, to show that you were capable of handling the job, suddenly felt crushing.

With a deep breath, you tried to calm your racing thoughts. There had to be a way to fix this. Maybe you could reprint the damaged documents, or perhaps there were backups somewhere in the archives. You needed a plan, and fast. But first, you had to get rid of the evidence of your mistake—before anyone saw the mess you had made.

Forcing yourself to think clearly, you carefully gathered the soaked files, praying that you could come up with a solution before anyone found out about the spill. And then you saw it, the important file with big red letters on the cover, slightly drenched in warm coffee. The damage seemed to be at a visible minimum, making you slightly relax despite all the panic in your body.

Your finger traced over the paper cover before picking the file up from the messy table. It was slightly heavy, and as you felt the weight of the file in your hands, a ripple of curiosity surged through you. You hesitated for a moment, wondering what kind of secrets might be concealed within these pages. But the urge to know won out, and you carefully opened the front cover, revealing a neatly typed summary that seemed to offer a glimpse into the contents of the file.

The first thing that caught your eye was a series of police reports, meticulously detailed and organized, each one stamped with the official seal of Urbanshade. They were followed by a set of photographs, their glossy surfaces reflecting the dim light of the room. The first image you saw was a clear mugshot of a young man. His face was striking, not in the sense of beauty, but in the way it conveyed a deep weariness, as if the weight of the world had been pressing down on him for far too long. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, and they censored his eyes, leaving them to your imagination.

His expression was a frown in each of the photos, a look of quiet defiance mixed with something else—something that sent a strange sensation through your chest. It wasn’t pity, exactly, but a deep unease that you couldn’t quite place. There was a coldness in his expression, yet also a flicker of something more, something human and raw, buried beneath the layers of exhaustion and anger.

You turned the page, your fingers brushing over the edges of the police reports that followed. The papers were old, some of them yellowing with age, but the text was still clear. Your eyes skimmed the lines, taking in the grim details of a murder case that had been closed years ago. The words felt heavy, each sentence a stark reminder of the horror that had unfolded.

The reports detailed a series of brutal killings—nine victims in total. The descriptions were uncensored, each one more gruesome than the last. As you read, a chill ran down your spine. The level of violence, the cold, methodical nature of the crimes, it all painted a picture of someone deeply disturbed, someone with a darkness that ran far deeper than you could have imagined.

And there, at the center of it all, was the young man from the photos. His name was typed in bold letters at the top of the report: Sebastian Solace. The name seemed almost ironic—“Solace” suggesting peace or comfort, while the man it belonged to was associated with such unspeakable acts.

You stared at the name for a long moment, trying to reconcile the tired, defiant face in the photos with the monstrous deeds described in the reports. The file mentioned psychological evaluations, interviews, and even some speculation about his motives, but none of it seemed to add up. There was a note in the margin, scrawled in a hurried hand, suggesting that the case was far from closed, despite what the official records stated.

A photo paperclipped to the back of the file caught your attention—a grainy image of a dark, empty room. The caption underneath simply read, „Day of Execution“ The picture showed the electric chair that they used in Solace his execution, but any sign of his presence was missing in it.

Then you turned the pages and the police reports changed into a large series of lab reports, endless lists of medication and a collection of pictures that left you in a nauseous state.

You read and read for what felt like hours, your eyes moving mechanically over the pages as the horrors of Sebastian Solace's life unfolded before you. Each detail seemed more grotesque than the last, painting a picture of a man who had been systematically stripped of his humanity. It wasn’t just the surgeries—those brutal, invasive operations where limbs were removed and reattached like parts of a machine. It was the utter disregard for the person he once was, the complete and total annihilation of his identity, his very soul.

The deeper you delved into the file, the more your hands began to tremble. You could feel your stomach churning as you flipped through page after page of graphic images and cold, clinical reports. The pictures were the worst—high-resolution photographs of Sebastian’s disfigured body, his skin pale and sickly under the harsh fluorescent lights of a laboratory. There were stitches crisscrossing his limbs, metal tools embedded in his flesh like cruel mockeries of life-saving instruments. His eyes—those once defiant, tired eyes—were vacant now, lifeless, as though the man he had once been was already dead.

Your breath hitched as you turned to a page detailing an experiment labeled "Procedure 17-C." The accompanying photograph showed a close-up of Sebastian's chest, where wires and tubes had been inserted into his heart, his blood replaced with a thick, unnatural fluid. The caption beneath it coldly described the experiment’s purpose—to test the viability of synthetic blood in deep-sea environments. The thought of what he had endured, of how much pain and suffering had been inflicted upon him in the name of science, made your vision blur with tears.

You forced yourself to continue reading, even as nausea clawed at your throat. The reports became increasingly more deranged, describing how Sebastian’s body had been treated like a puzzle, dismantled and reassembled in ways that defied all logic and ethics. The word "specimen" appeared frequently, a stark reminder that to his captors, Sebastian was nothing more than a test subject, an object to be used and discarded.

It was around page 35 that you couldn’t take it anymore. You shoved the file aside and staggered to the bin next to you, emptying the contents of your stomach. The bile burned your throat, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the anguish in your heart. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, trying to steady your breathing, but the images lingered in your mind, imprinted there like a brand.

Sebastian Solace—the name now felt like a curse, a grim reminder of the horrors that could befall anyone who crossed paths with Urbanshade. And the Hadal Blackside... it was no longer just a place. It was a living nightmare, a twisted abyss where humanity was stripped away,

The weight of the file in your hands felt unbearable as you reluctantly picked it up again, your fingers trembling as you closed the cover. The secrets contained within were like a lead weight on your soul, pressing down on you with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. When you finally set the file back on the table, it was as though you were laying down a burden too great for any one person to bear.

But even as you tried to distance yourself from what you had just read, the haunted eyes of Sebastian Solace refused to leave you. They stayed with you, those hollow, lifeless eyes, staring back at you from the depths of your memory. They were a reminder that in the Hadal Blackside, there were things far more terrifying than the dark waters and the lurking creatures within. There might were men—once human, now monsters—who had been twisted by the same forces that now ensnared you.

You were tangled in their web now, caught in a nightmare from which there was no waking. And as you sat there, in the dim light of that office room, you realized that the true horror wasn’t what had been done to Sebastian. It was the knowledge that, in time, the same fate could await you, if someone found out what you saw.

[canonizzyhours]

I'm a professional screenwriter. I know nobody reading this has any reason to believe that, and I work pretty hard to keep my fandom activity separate from my professional identity, so I'm not going to offer any proof that would doxx me here, believe me or don't. But it's true and I don't just mean I'm trying to get hired as a screenwriter, I mean I am pretty well established in the industry and I've worked on some stuff big enough you've probably heard of it. I've also been active in OFMD fandom for about two years now, since nearly the beginning.

The canyon really freaks me out because seeing it up close makes me worried I've drastically underestimated audiences' empathy gap around characters of color and tendency to sympathize with and excuse the actions of white characters. I've always tried to be conscious about that sort of thing in my work but now that I'm seeing the whole process up close it's so much worse than I always thought.

I think a lot about what I would have done during season 1 of OFMD, if I were in the writers' room and I'd wanted to make sure it would be clear to the audience that Izzy was Ed's abuser and wasn't acting out of secretly sympathetic motives and we're supposed to be genuinely horrified by his actions. I'm in writers' rooms workshopping issues like this all the time. I know the kinds of suggestions I'd make.

Like, if we were worried that the audience would think Izzy's hostility toward Stede was about class instead of homophobia, I might have suggested we make sure Izzy's dialogue never has any reference to Stede's class at all, and that we might do a subplot in one episode where Izzy is equally hostile toward Lucius, since Lucius clearly isn't rich but is extremely gay. But that already happened, and it didn't help.

If I wanted to make sure the audience understood that Izzy is bossing the crew around and screaming at everyone to work harder because he's a petty little bully on a power trip and not because the work actually needs to get done, I might have suggested a scene where Izzy deliberately makes a mess on purpose just so he can order the crew to clean it up. But that already happened, and it didn't help.

If I wanted to make it clear that Izzy has always been awful toward everyone around him -- especially his colleagues of color -- since long before the show started, I might have suggested we repeatedly emphasize throughout the season that while Fang is willing to work with him, he doesn't like or respect Izzy and this is because Izzy has always treated Fang very badly. Have him pull on Fang's beard for no reason and have Fang explicitly say he hates that but knows it wouldn't help to complain. Have Fang tell strangers jokes about times Izzy humiliated himself in public. Have a scene where everybody unanimously VOTES TO MURDER IZZY and someone explicitly stops to ask Fang if he's cool with this and Fang explicitly says yes this is absolutely fine with me and then he actively participates in the murder plan while smiling. But all of that happened and I still see the canyon insisting that Izzy was a much nicer person before the events of s2 when he wasn't under so much stress and has always been liked and respected by the PoC around him, including specifically Fang!

If I were worried that the audience might take seriously the idea that Izzy is motivated by "loyalty to your captain" -- well, honestly I don't think it ever would have occurred to me to worry about that, since he says that in a scene where he's in the middle betraying his captain and I'd probably assume people are capable of picking that up and understanding that when someone says they're abusing you for your own good you should not believe them. But if someone else insisted we address the concern, suggestions I'd make would include: make sure some of the first interactions we see between Ed and Izzy involve Izzy complaining about how he doesn't want to do the job Ed just gave him, then half-assing the mission and lying to Ed's face about it. Show Izzy deliberately undermining Ed to the crew by telling them he's half-insane, then insist to Ed that he's the only one keeping the crew loyal when they're worried about his judgment. But they did that stuff and we still have people thinking Izzy's central motivation throughout season 1 is selfless devotion to Ed.

The show did every single thing I would have suggested, and none of it worked. So what does it say about all the stuff I've already worked on, whenever I've written a scene where a white guy was being a dick to characters of color? Have I just been embarrassingly naive this whole time? Have I undermined my own work by not getting this?

You can't control audience reactions, I know that, that's part of what's great about art, you have to let go and accept that people will interpret things in ways you never intended, I get it. But if it's THIS impossible to choose words that will create the kind of feelings you meant to, what's the point? Is it even possible to write about the kind of abusive relationship Ed and Izzy have, where the white guy thinks he's entitled to control a brown man's life "for his own good" and that the brown guy is obligated to be grateful and reciprocate his "love" and not have a huge group of people creating elaborate justifications for the white guy? What else could they have done? What else can I do, when I'm writing about characters of color? I'm seriously asking. If anybody reading this has advice I want to hear it. What could I do?

#408.

[astraaa3]

please please please can you do valentino and male reader please i really like your writing

👉👈

anything sfw and/or nsfw is fine :3

A/N: You want it, you got it, Anon. Thanks for the request toots. Had a blast writing this one. >.<

Feedback is much appreciated (also, if you would like to proofread the degenerate shit I write please send a dm).

Valentino x Male!Reader

Note: You can imagine the reader to have whatever body type you prefer. While in this request Reader has a bodyguard position that doesn't mean that he was chosen for his physique. (Valentino is an asshole so he most likely hired Reader for shits and giggles) Now off we go.

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Headcanons:

Valentino likes teasing you. A LOT. Grabbing your hips, hugging you from behind, patting your head, rubbing your cheeks whenever you forgot to shave, linking his arm with yours, he always found an excuse to touch you.

Why was Valentino so tactile? Well, his love language was physical touch. Of course, he would take any chance he could to indulge. That said, the biggest reason was how you always blushed or laughed embarrassed at the public displays of affection.

Valentino loved teasing you. From changing in front of you to other…. explicit acts, he adored flustering you. And he wasn't quiet about it either. "Aww, what's wrong baby? I'm just helping you accomodate~" or "Oh come on papi, don't tell me you don't like what you see." (at one point you started keeping a catalog of the pet names he used for you)

After you decided to ask Valentino out for a date (you hyped yourself up while looking in a mirror for days before actually being able to get the words out), you found out that there was more to your boss than you had come to know. You learned that Valentino ADORED fast food, that he was shit at taking care of pets (Queef reference whom), and that he loved dancing and laughing at romcoms.

You asked him out initially out of some pathetic crush, but after the first few dates, you fell. And you fell hard. Following him around like some love-sick puppy, pouting when he was hooking up with girls at the club.

Valentino thought that it was fucking cute. So he did what he always does with things he finds interesting. He took you to bed. He didn't expect you to cuddle him the moment you were done. Much less for you to praise him. HIM. He had a minor mental breakdown while you fell asleep.

After Valentino came to terms with the fact that he started caring for you more than he planned to initially, he immediately claimed you as his. Taking you out in public and overplaying how lovey-dovey the two of you were, dressing you up in tuxes, and dining at high-end restaurants. Getting 'accidentally' caught fondling you inside of one of the clubs he owned, Valentino did everything to make sure there was not a single soul in Hell who didn't know that you were his.

A fun fact that Valentino learned about you when you officially started dating was that you would melt after being praised. And oh boy did he take advantage of that. Flattery fell out of Valentino's mouth like a waterfall whenever he saw the opportunity. "You are so handsome sweetheart, turning heads wherever you go. But those worms better keep their hands to themselves or I will FUCKING END THEM." (cue aggressive moth clicking noises)

You did get into fights with Valentino. Particularly about his short temper. While you were rarely on the receiving end of his rages, you did witness them quite often. Thankfully, Valentino agreed to try to be less rash and aggressive when he got mad. But it was still a work in progress. And there was a LOT of progress to be had.

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Small prompt: How it started

You had just gotten used to your new job when your life took a new turn yet again. It seemed like a normal day at first, you were just helping with putting the props in their places when the door slammed open, Valentino angrily stopping in his moth wings unfurled hanging behind him like a cape. It was the first time you saw Valentino without his signature coat…wings….whatever on. You blushed and started dumbly at him as your brain tried to process… heart…. nipples….(homerotic panic ensue). Valentino being Valentino of course noticed this. And making a mental note of your admittedly cute reaction he made a decision.

The next day you were called to his penthouse at the top of the V tower. You once again found yourself staring dumbly at the pictures of Valentino hanging up on the walls, your whole face turning red. Hearing a chuckle behind you, you immediately turned around embarrassed, fiddling a bit with your pants to hide the reaction caused by the pictures. (if Valentino noticed it, you were thankful that he said nothing about it or you would have died on the spot from embarrassment).

"Is this the first time you see any of my photoshoots, amorcito?" Valentino said with a smirk staring at your flushing face.

"U-uh. Yeah. I didn't know you also work in front of the camera and not just behind it." you said trying to sound more professional than you actually felt at the moment, it helped calm down the flush on your cheeks a bit.

Valentino nodded heading to the plush couch in the room sitting and crossing his fishnet-clad legs. Staring at you for a second, he took a drag of his cigarette.

"To keep matters short, you're getting promoted. From now on you will act as my bodyguard."

You stared at him confused for a second. He was an Overlord and well, you were just some random sinner who barely knew how to defend himself.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I... I'm a bit confused. You are an Overlord and well, I think you could protect yourself better than I would be able to. Respectfully."

You could see his eyebrow twitching in what you could tell was annoyance. Smiling a few too many teeth at you, some pink liquid dripping from his lips, Valentino snarled out.

"Do I need to explain myself to you? Don't forget who's your boss bitch. You're working as my bodyguard from now on because I say so, bitch."

His fury seemed to disappear in an instant afterward, getting up and sliding his hand across the back of your shoulders in an overly sweet manner.

"You're going to do great amorcito. Now, off you go, enjoy your last day of setting up props."

With that, he sent you off. Sighing nervously, you couldn't help but think: 'Well, this is going to be interesting. That's for sure' (You had no idea how true those thoughts would prove to be) =========˚ʚ♡ɞ˚========= Send requests ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა