#i said most of what i wanted to say already i think but i also wanna add that c4 is absolutely dave

[liloinkoink]

hello hello ddvau fans if you do not know me i do edits for ddvau and i have Known about this chapter for weeks and have been sitting on my rage at HG the whole time. and now it is released i need the people to see he is a bitch ass mf

anyway. starting off here. the very first thing HG says to Grian when talking about what happened is a threat

"i'm here to help you. i'm the best option you got, no one else will"

when i was editing for Doody, this line was just "i'm here to help." but Doody wanted it to come across somewhere in this chapter that HG has all the power in this situation and that HG wants Grian to know that. it was decided that the best spot to include that was right here, right off the bat. HG is Grian's only option and that is as much a promise as it is a threat. no one else will help Grian, and that includes saving him from HG if he doesn't tell HG what he wants to know

and then there's this page. when Grian isnt super forthcoming w info, HG pulls out Jimmy. HG knows better than anyone that Jimmy is completely innocent and that he had nothing to do w the attack--he's a victim here, and HG knows that better than anyone. he also knows, from being Grian and Jimmy's friend as a civilian for years, that Grian cares a lot about Jimmy, and is using that against Grian

he also knows from being a civilian and Jimmy's friend that Jimmy's pro-mutant stance isnt popular, and Jimmy could be framed if HG said something bad about him. HG is trying blatantly to use anti-mutant sentiments against Grian and Jimmy so that Grian will talk, in a moment Grian is already convinced he's going to be arrested for hiding his status as a mutant

(which: note that HG says he heard "rumors" about Jimmy's stance about mutants and his protests against the university's policies--it isn't rumors, HG knows this from being Jimmy's friend and coworker as Scar)

and then here, HG is the only one who was conscious and who was fully present for and remembers what happened during the MS attack. yeah, Tango was also there, but Tango is a known mutant, adn we've already seen people do not trust Tango and think Tango is dangerous--he's certainly not as trustworthy as HG, Superhero, Emerald Soldier, face of the military. he's the one people will trust most. what he says happened is what happened

HG says that yes, Grian’s secret is safe, but only because HG is choosing to keep it. Grian is safe because HG is allowing him to be. HG told everyone that Grian gained wings from the attack, and so HG won't arrest Grian. in this narrative which HG made up, Grian did not lie to the government and he was not always a mutant. HG said it, so it's true, even if he's lying. all HG has to do is change his mind and say that Grian was always a mutant who lied and hid his status from the government, and then Grian will be arrested. HG could change his mind at any time if Grian doesn't cooperate with him. he's very blatantly blackmailing Grian

fun fact! the original version of this line didn't have the "for now," but it was added in editing when Doody said they wanted it to be explicitly clear HG is threatening Grian

what HG says here is the truth. he isn't just representing the law--HG is above the law, and he isn't shy about making sure Grian knows that. he's willing to use anything in his disposal to get the information he wants, and he's willing to use anything available to him to make sure Grian complies with him. disguising it in friendly attitude and cookies and a phone number does not hide the fact HG was incredibly ruthlessly manipulative here

anyway. incredibly fun chapter. one of my favorites. i need DDVAU HG exploded

[magical-reid]

The Bucky Barnes Cake Conspiracy

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (implied) Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 800

Summary: When Wanda convinces you and Natasha to do the “Hear Me Out” cake trend, you think it’s just harmless fun. That is, until every single one of your picks is a different version of Bucky Barnes, the entire Tower gets involved, and Bucky himself finds out in the most humiliating way possible—via Wanda’s viral video.

It started as a joke.

A harmless, ridiculous joke.

And then it spiraled into something much, much worse.

“I’m just saying,” Wanda said, shoving her phone in your face as the three of you wandered through the grocery store, “we should do it.”

Natasha glanced at the screen. “Oh, the ‘Hear Me Out’ cake trend? That’s dumb.”

“Exactly!” Wanda grinned. “Which makes it perfect for us.”

You furrowed your brows, watching the TikTok she’d pulled up. The trend was simple: buy a plain cake, decorate it with pictures of celebrities or characters you found attractive, and then justify your crush by sticking ‘Hear Me Out’ in the middle.

It was stupid. But also hilarious.

“I’m in,” you said.

Natasha groaned. “Fine. But I’m not helping if this turns into another Tower-wide disaster.”

Wanda hummed, already making a beeline for the bakery aisle. “Oh, it definitely will.”

Back at the Tower, you sat cross-legged on the kitchen counter as Wanda set up her phone. The cake—a plain white-frosted one you’d grabbed from the store—sat in the center of the table, looking all innocent. It had no idea it was about to be used for nonsense.

“Okay,” Wanda said, grinning. “Time to put down our picks.”

Natasha went first. She taped a photo of Keanu Reeves onto a skewer and stuck it into the cake. Classic. No one would question it.

Then Wanda went. Pedro Pascal. Another solid choice.

And then you—

“Y/N,” Natasha deadpanned. “Are you serious?”

You hesitated, mid-skewer placement. “…What?”

Wanda started cackling.

Because instead of picking three different people like a normal person, you had, without realizing it, picked three different versions of Bucky Barnes.

One was a picture of him in his tactical gear, scowling like he was about to murder someone (hot). Another was of him in a hoodie and jeans, looking all soft and domestic (also hot). And the third? The one that really sealed your fate?

It was a close-up of his metal arm.

You winced. “Okay. I see how this looks—”

“This looks like a confession,” Wanda said gleefully, already zooming in on your picks.

“Oh my God,” Natasha muttered, running a hand down her face.

“I panicked!” you hissed. “I wasn’t thinking—I just grabbed the first ones that looked good!”

Wanda was shaking with laughter. “Oh, babe. This isn’t panic. This is obsession.”

You groaned, dropping your head onto the counter. “I hate you both.”

The video went up on Wanda’s account that night.

By the next morning, it had one million views.

And the Tower was in absolute chaos.

Clint greeted you at breakfast with a slow, knowing grin. “So,” he said, spreading cream cheese onto his bagel, “should we start calling you Mrs. Barnes, or—?”

You threw a banana at his head.

Sam nearly fell off the couch laughing when he saw the video. “You put the metal arm?” he wheezed. “Oh, you’re down bad.”

Steve, who had clearly been dragged into this nonsense against his will, just gave you a long, unimpressed look over his coffee. “You could’ve just told him, you know.”

Tony, of course, had the most Tony reaction possible. “This is the most effort I’ve ever seen someone put into a crush. If I had known Bucky was your type, I would’ve set up an HR department just to make this more scandalous.”

You wanted the Earth to swallow you whole.

But the worst part?

Bucky.

Because by some miracle, he hadn’t seen the video yet.

Which meant you were living on borrowed time.

It happened later that night.

You were curled up on the couch, pretending to read a book but mostly trying to avoid eye contact with the entire human population, when Bucky strolled into the common room.

“Hey, doll.”

Your stomach flipped. “Hey.”

He sat next to you, arms stretched out over the back of the couch, his face unreadable. For a brief, fleeting moment, you thought—maybe he doesn’t know.

And then—

“So,” he said, far too casually. “You like my arm that much, huh?”

Your entire body locked up.

Your soul left your body.

Your mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

“I—what—who—?”

Bucky chuckled. “I saw the video.”

You shut your eyes. “Kill me.”

He hummed, like he was thinking about it. “Nah. ‘Cause then who’s gonna take me on that date you clearly want?”

You choked. “What—”

Bucky turned to face you fully, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. “If you wanted me so bad, sweetheart, you could’ve just asked.”

Your entire brain short-circuited. “I—That’s—You—”

Bucky leaned in, voice low. “Next time, maybe write my number on the cake instead.”

You exhaled sharply, heart hammering. “Are you—Are you flirting with me?”

His grin widened. “You tell me.”

You stared at him. Then at the door. Then back at him.

Finally, you sighed, rubbing your temples. “Fine. But if we go on a date, I’m making Wanda pay for it.”

Bucky laughed, eyes warm. “Deal.”

[wvyik]

quit pouting, winchester’ d.w. ꩜ .ᐟ

dean winchester x fem! reader

summary; dean gets all jealous over something super dumb (he’d never admit it though), and ends up pouting until you kiss him to make him stop being so ridiculous.

warnings; a hint of possessiveness, jealousy with unreasonable doubts, (duh) make out sesh, but other than that — just pure fluff, because this man is soft for you no matter how much he tries to act tough. don’t kiss and drive kids!!

notes; this is my first fic ever!! send some love. thanks so much for reading through my yap sesh. ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

words; 1008

Dean Winchester is pouting.

And, yeah, he’d probably rather die than admit it, but it’s so obvious it’s almost embarrassing. Arms crossed, jaw tight, barely sparing you a glance as he sulks in the driver’s seat of the Impala. You’d think you just crashed Baby into a brick wall with how pissed he looks.

“De.. what is wrong with you?” you finally ask, leaning against the window to look at him.

“Nothin’,” he mutters, gripping the steering wheel like it personally offended him. Nothing, my ass.

You narrow your eyes. “Dean.”

“Nothin’, i already told you.” he repeats, this time with even less conviction.

You huff, shifting in your seat so you’re fully facing him now. “Oh my God, you are such a bad liar.”

He scoffs. “I’m a great liar, trust me.”

“Not to me.”

And, that shuts him up for a second. His fingers tighten on the wheel, his mouth pressing into that stubborn, self-righteous little frown he gets whenever he knows he’s losing but refuses to admit it.

You smirk, slowly realizing what could be the cause of his state. “Oh my God, you’re jealous.”

Dean’s head snaps toward you so fast you think he might give himself whiplash. “What?”

You lean in, grinning now. “You totally are.” you say with a soft chuckle, as if the thought of him being jealous is the most hilarious thing in the whole world.

He rolls his eyes, trying so hard to play it cool, but his ears are so red. “Pfft. Yeah, right.”

“You so are.”

Dean exhales sharply, turning his attention back to the road like the empty highway is the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. You can practically hear the gears turning in his head, trying to figure out how to dig himself out of this one.

“You’re acting all weird,” you point out, watching him squirm. “You’ve been quiet for the last hour. You barely even yelled at that dude who cut you off.”

Dean clenches his jaw. He knows you’ve got him.

“So,” you press, “what’s got your panties in a twist, huh?” As if you already don’t know.

He grumbles something under his breath. Oh, he’s embarrassed. You could tell.

You blink. “What?”

More grumbling.

“Dean.” you repeated, hoping for him to finally speak up.

He exhales roughly, hands flexing on the steering wheel. Then, finally, he mutters, “Nothin’. Just— dude was flirting with you, ‘s all.”

You blink. Then blink again. “Are you talking about the gas station cashier?” Dean says nothing. Which is an answer in itself. Oh, this is too good.

You burst out laughing. “Oh my God, Dean, he barely said two words to me.”

“Yeah? And he was lookin’ at you like a damn puppy,” Dean grumbles. “Like he had a shot.”

You shake your head, biting back a smile. “That is so stupid.”

“Yeah, well.” He shrugs, jaw still tight. “‘S stupid to you.”

And okay, yeah, now you kind of feel bad, because he’s being ridiculous, but also kind of… sad about it? Not that he’d ever admit it, but the way he’s gripping the wheel, the way his lips are pressed tight like he’s trying to keep everything in—he actually cares about this. About you.

Which means he deserves to suffer just a little longer.

You scoot closer, pressing your chin to his shoulder. “You know you’re the only one I want, right?”

Dean stays silent, but you feel the way his grip on the wheel loosens. His jaw twitches when you press a slow, lingering kiss to his cheek. You smirk. Oh, he’s melting.

So, you push further, brushing your lips along the sharp edge of his jaw, taking your sweet time. You can feel the tension in him shift— not gone, but different. Like he’s holding his breath, waiting for what you’ll do next.

He clears his throat, but his voice comes out rough. “Yeah. ‘Course.”

You hum, letting your lips trail just a little lower. “Then quit pouting.”

“I ain’t—”

You shut him up with a proper kiss.

And at first, he barely moves—like he wasn’t expecting it, like it takes him a second to catch up. But the second he does, oh, you’ve got him.

Dean exhales through his nose, tilting his head to meet you fully, and then he’s kissing you like he’s making up for lost time. His hand finally lets go of the steering wheel, landing firm and warm against your thigh, fingers flexing like he’s grounding himself.

You don’t hesitate to deepen it, shifting in your seat to turn toward him, your hand moving up to cup his jaw. He’s warm, rough with stubble, and you take your time exploring it, feeling the way his breath stutters when you scrape your nails lightly along the edge.

Dean groans— low, quiet, but wrecked— and then he’s pulling you closer, his other hand coming up to cradle the back of your neck. The Impala swerves slightly.

You pull back just enough to whisper, breathless, “Dean, focus.”

“Tryin’,” he mutters, voice low and strained. “You’re makin’ it real hard, sweetheart.”

You grin, fingers tangling in the short hair at the nape of his neck. “Ain’t that the point?..”

Dean exhales sharply, like he’s trying so hard to keep his cool, but he’s losing. And you? You’re having the time of your life watching him come undone.

You lean in again, kissing him slow and deep, dragging it out just to make him suffer. He sighs into it, fingers pressing just a little tighter into your skin, like he doesn’t want to let go.

Eventually— reluctantly— you pull back, just enough to look at him. His pupils are almost brown in this lightning, lips pink and kiss-swollen, chest rising and falling a little faster than before.

You smirk. “Told you you were pouting.”

Dean exhales, shaking his head with a grumble—but the way he looks at you? The way his thumb traces absently against your knee, like he’s memorizing the shape of you?

Yeah. You definitely won this one.

tysm for reading! more works incoming @ library. ⊹₊⟡⋆

[dapperprincess]

I was responding to the part where you said not all afab people are affected by abortion bans. Medical misogyny is a facet of sex-based oppression and of misogyny in general (and sex-based oppression is just a facet of misogyny)

I never said that non-passing trans women dont get catcalled. I said that everyone knows that passing trans women get catcalled. I said nothing about non-passing trans women or any misogyny/homophobia they may experience. I was only making a point about how even the strictest radfem admits that trans women who pass experience social misogyny and emphasizing that this facet of misogyny was not what I was referring to.

I am a perisex trans man(I dont believe that pcos an intersex condition, but I have seen others on here claiming it is, so draw your own conclusions on what you’d like to call me on that front, since I am medically diagnosed.) I have extreme sex dysmorphia/gender dysphoria that affects my everyday life and has ever since I can remember. I have been involved with the trans community for over a decade. Trans community infighting is what got me where I am.(along with learning about trans healthcare in my area and the lack of laws to protect trans people from exploitative doctors) I never said it was exclusively trans women who perpetuate this bigotry, I just said it was heavily perpetuated within the trans community. It’s a problem no matter who is doing it. I also know of and follow trans women who speak up about this double standard.

The last line about the people “actually” hurting the community being radfems is only true if you label everyone who harms the community a “radfem.”

I would argue that the majority of people arguing against the creation of these words to describe the specific oppression experienced by trans people who were born with the reproductive system generally associated with gestating pregnancies have never actually read any type of radical feminism literature and could not even name our basic beliefs. Everyone, even dave fucking chappelle, wants to call themselves a “terf” for their various beliefs that contradict the claims made by the trans community, but just like not being an atheist doesnt make someone a christian, not believing in trans identities doesnt make someone a radical feminist. I am aware of the small group of trans women who call themselves trf (trans radical feminists) but once again, without the ideological beliefs backing their claim, they are just trans people who have come up with a set of ideas and called it radical feminism. In much the same way that I couldnt call myself a christian while actively not believing in any sort of god(or at least wouldnt be taken seriously as a voice on christian beliefs) these people should not be taken seriously as representatives of radical feminist beliefs.

I hate the lack of choice when it comes to representation. Do you think I voted jk rowling as the top rep of radical feminism? Do you think I agree with everything she says just because she says it? No, she’s just able to speak the loudest, and thus gets the most attention. We have no way of ending her term if she says something we disagree with. We cannot vote her out of office. She makes the loudest sound, and so she is our de facto representative, whether we like it or not.

I think much the same thing has happened to the trans community, with its representation not being the most agreed upon or the most liked, but the loudest person to yell about it. This leads to people in positions of privilege yelling louder than the more oppressed people who actually know what theyre talking about. As a result, the trans community has pursued mostly goals that help the already privileged (as has the radfem community in the west) leading to a snowball of changes that less privileged trans people cant even share their opinion on without being dogpilled by the more privileged ones who benefit.

Trans people deserve human rights and basic respect.

crazy to me how some people think conversion torture/forced detransition is actually a privilege when it happens to trans men/mascs

[ariahmichelle]

Fake It Till You Feel It- Part 3

Rafe Cameron x Reader Series

Series Masterlist Here

Summary: You see your ex with a new girl wrapped around him after he told you “wasn’t ready for a relationship” after you had slowly started to fall for him. The betrayal stings. Rafe Cameron is dealing with his own issue—Amelia, a girl who refuses to take the hint that he’s not interested. One night you impulsively pretend to be Rafe’s girlfriend to get her to back off. To your surprise, it works. You also notice Alex looking pissed. This starts to become an unspoken routine between you when either Alex or Amelia are around. Simple right? However, longer this goes on, the more the lines blur between what’s real and what’s not.

Part 3- The Rescue Mission

••••••••••••••••••••• ••••••••••••••••••••••

It had been a slow, uneventful day—exactly what you’d wanted. You had spent the morning running errands, picking up a few things from town before finally making it home. Now, curled up on the couch, half-watching a show while scrolling on your phone, you were perfectly content to do nothing for the rest of the afternoon.

Then your phone buzzed.

Rafe: You busy?

You frowned, already suspicious.

You: I might be. Why?

Rafe: Because I need saving.

You snorted, shaking your head.

You: Let me guess… Amelia?

Rafe: What do you think?

You sighed, debating for a moment. Maybe it would be good for him to deal with her himself for once. But you also knew how persistent Amelia could be.

You: Sounds like a you problem, Cameron.

Rafe: Come on. Be a team player.

You: …How bad is it?

Rafe: Bad enough to text you :(

Before you could dwell on it too much, your mom walked into the room, grabbing her purse. “I’m heading out for a bit. Need a ride anywhere?”

“Actually, yeah,” you said, already slipping on your shoes.

——

When you arrived at the country club, you expected to find Rafe surrounded by Topper, Kelce, and maybe a few other guys, with Amelia clinging to him like always.

But instead, he was standing outside, alone.

You narrowed your eyes as you approached. “If you made me come all this way for nothing, you’re dead.”

Rafe exhaled, shaking his head. “Trust me, I wouldn’t have called you unless I had no other option.”

“That bad?”

He ran a hand down his face. “Worse.”

You crossed your arms, waiting.

“I was having lunch with my family,” he started, “and Amelia just invited herself over, telling my dad, Rose, Sarah, and Wheezie that she and I have been getting to know each other.” He grimaced. “She’s acting like we’ve been seeing each other, and I told them we weren’t, but—”

“But Ward told you not to be rude and let her stay,” you finished, already knowing how this went.

Rafe pointed at you. “Exactly.”

You groaned. “So now what?”

“I told them I was going to the bathroom,” he said. “And now I need you to help me get rid of her. And make sure my family knows I’m not with her.”

You hesitated. “Rafe, I’m not pretending to be your girlfriend in front of your dad.”

“Come on,” he said, and for the first time, you noticed how desperate he looked. “My dad likes you, okay? If you say we’re together, he’ll believe it, and Amelia will finally back off.”

You still weren’t convinced. “And what happens when he finds out it’s a lie?”

Rafe just shrugged. “That’s a future problem.”

You exhaled, glancing toward the entrance. “I swear to God, Cameron…”

Rafe smirked, sensing your hesitation cracking. “So you’ll do it?”

You groaned. “I hate you.”

His smirk widened. “No, you don’t.”

Rolling your eyes, you held out your hand. “Let’s get this over with.”

Without hesitation, Rafe took your hand, threading his fingers through yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And just like that, you walked into the lion’s den.

——

The Cameron family sat at a round table on the patio, the perfect picture of wealth and power. Ward sat at the head, Rose beside him, while Sarah and Wheezie chatted quietly. And, of course, Amelia stood close to Rafe’s empty chair, her hand way too close to where his arm would’ve been.

The moment you walked in, Sarah’s eyes widened.

“Are you kidding me?” she blurted.

Amelia turned—and her expression darkened instantly.

Ward raised an eyebrow. “Rafe?”

Rafe barely hesitated. “I wasn’t being rude earlier,” he said, looking directly at his father. “I was just trying to make it clear—I’m not with Amelia. Because I’m with someone else.”

He gave your hand a squeeze, and you took that as your cue. “Hey, Mr. Cameron,” you said with an easy smile, leaning slightly into Rafe’s side. “Hope you don’t mind me crashing family lunch.”

Ward looked between you and Rafe, brow furrowed. “You two are together?”

“Yep,” Rafe said smoothly. “Have been for a little while now.”

Sarah still looked shocked, and Wheezie looked downright delighted, but the best reaction came from Amelia, whose face was rapidly turning red.

“You have to be joking,” she snapped.

“Why?” Rafe tilted his head, feigning confusion. “Jealous?”

Amelia scoffed. “Please. I just didn’t realize you’d lowered your standards so much.”

Your smile tightened. “You know, for someone who’s so sure I’m not a threat, you seem really upset about this.”

Her mouth opened. Then closed. Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed off.

Wheezie barely contained her laughter.

Rose just sipped her wine, watching you both closely. “Well,” she said, “this is… interesting.”

Ward nodded slowly, clearly still processing. “Hmm.”

Before they could say anything else, Rafe let out a dramatic sigh. “Well, this has been fun, but we’ve got plans.”

“We do?” you muttered.

Rafe ignored you. “See you guys later.”

And with that, he pulled you away from the table, out of the club, and toward his truck.

As soon as you were outside, you smacked his arm. “You are so dead for that.”

Rafe just grinned, opening the truck door for you. “Relax. It worked, didn’t it?”

“You owe me.”

He just smirked. “That’s why I’m making it up to you right now.”

You eyed him suspiciously as you climbed into the truck. “How?”

“You’ll see.”

Fifteen minutes later, you found yourself sitting in the bed of his truck, legs crossed beneath you, a cup of ice cream in hand, on a hill overlooking the beach. Almost a little secret hideout you’ve never been to before.

“You know,” you said, glancing at him, “this is a pretty good spot. Romantic, even.”

Rafe scoffed. “If I was trying to be romantic, you’d know.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what does romantic Rafe Cameron look like?”

He smirked, leaning in slightly. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t fade.

You took a slow bite of your ice cream, then glanced at Rafe. “So… this isn’t where you bring all your girls?”

Rafe scoffed. “Please. You think I waste gas on just anyone?”

You hummed. “Mm. Seems like a solid move, though, so I must be very special.”

Rafe just smirks not giving you the satisfaction of an answer.

After a few moments of silence, he leaned back, voice softer. “You know… I never thought Alex was good enough for you.”

You looked at him, surprised. “What?”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugged, “you always deserved better than that asshole.”

You shook your head. “Well… thanks, I guess.”

Rafe smirked. “Don’t get used to it.”

You laughed, licking your spoon. “No promises.”

—————————————

Let me know what you think? Could be some drama in the coming parts???

Taglist: @rafecameronsbaeee

@drewwhor @wtfisastiles @emmafitzzz

@yourmomdotcom42069 @yasmin-oviedo

@pogueprincesa @maybankslover

@my-name-is-baby @rafecameronsslut1234

[dreamykira]

You Shouldn't Be Here I NAM-GYU x reader

˗ˏˋSUMMARY ´ˎ˗

╰┈➤ Thrown into the deadly Squid Game, the reader is shocked to find their cold and stoic boyfriend, Nam-Gyu, among the players. After barely surviving Red Light, Green Light, they reunite—but instead of relief, Nam-Gyu is furious.

˗ˏˋWARNINGS ´ˎ˗

╰┈➤ Angst to fluff, mentions of shooting, mentions of blood. Nam-Gyu is really kind of mean. Other than that there really shouldn't be anything else. ps! English is not my first language

˗ˏˋAUTHOR'S NOTE ´ˎ˗

╰┈➤ i've been CRAVING some nam-gyu angst. i feel like most of the fics i've read abt him are always super explicit, kind of making him look like a manipulative maniac who is addicted to violent sex. so i wanted to write something that still kind of shows his mean and "dickheadish" side, but also brings out the love he has for the reader.

word count: 894

You don’t know how you’re still standing.

Your legs feel weak, your body is trembling, and the sound of gunfire still rings in your ears. The first game—Red Light, Green Light—had been nothing like you imagined. You thought it was a joke at first. You thought it was some elaborate prank.

But now, all you can think about is the bodies. The way people screamed. The way the floor was painted red in an instant.

And you survived. Somehow, you survived. 

You force yourself to keep moving as the remaining players shuffle back into the dormitory, but all you want to do is collapse. Your hands won’t stop shaking, and your throat is so dry it hurts.

That’s when you see him.

The moment you see Nam-Gyu standing across the dormitory, your stomach twists into a knot. He looks just as intimidating as ever—tall, broad-shouldered, and completely unapproachable, his dark eyes scanning the room with a permanent scowl. But when his gaze lands on you, that scowl hardens into something much worse.

Oh no.

You don’t even get a chance to look away before he starts moving, shoving past other contestants without a care. You shrink back, instinctively pressing yourself against the wall, heart hammering. Maybe if you keep your head down, he’ll just—

Nope.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he hisses, voice low but sharp.

You blink up at him, heart hammering. “W-What?”

He yanks you toward the farthest corner of the room, away from prying eyes. His grip is tight, and your body is too weak to resist. The second he stops, he lets go of your wrist—only to shove your shoulder, making you stumble back a step.

“I—” You swallow, trying to find the right words, but your mind blanks under his glare.

“You didn’t tell me you were joining,” he snaps. “What the hell were you thinking?”

You hesitate, then mumble, “I… I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Nam-Gyu’s expression twists with something close to fury. “That’s not the point, idiot.” He steps closer, his presence suffocating. “You think this is some kind of a joke? Do you even understand where the hell you are?”

Your throat feels tight. “I— I didn’t have a choice.”

His scoff is sharp and cold. “Bullshit.”

Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes, but you blink them away as fast as you can. You don’t want to cry in front of him—not when he’s already looking at you like you’re pathetic.

“I thought… I thought maybe I could win,” you whisper. “You always said I was useless when it came to paying off our debt, but if I win, I—”

“You?” He cuts you off with a bitter laugh. “You think you’re gonna make it through this?” His words hit harder than you expect. “You can’t even stand up for yourself in normal life. What makes you think you’re gonna survive this?”

You flinch, tears welling up faster now. “I—I don’t know.” Your voice wobbles, and you hate how small you sound.

Nam-Gyu exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face like he’s losing his patience. “Unbelievable,” he mutters. “Of all people, it had to be you.”

That does it. The tears spill over, and you quickly look down, ashamed. You knew he’d be mad. You knew he wouldn’t be happy to see you. But did he really have to say it like that?

Nam-Gyu lets out a sharp breath. “Oh, for fuck’s sake—”

“I—I won’t bother you,” you manage, wiping at your face with your sleeve. “If it’s such a problem, I’ll stay away. You don’t have to take care of me.”

The second the words leave your mouth, Nam-Gyu freezes. His whole body tenses like you just said something truly offensive.

“…What?” His voice is dangerously low now.

You sniffle, still not looking at him. “I get it. Worrying about me will stress you out. So I’ll stay out of your way. I promise.”

The silence that follows is suffocating. Then, in one swift movement, Nam-Gyu grabs your wrist again—gentler this time, but no less firm.

“Don’t be stupid.” His voice is quieter now, but there’s something sharp underneath it. “You think I’m just gonna let you wander around here alone? Get yourself killed?”

You hesitate. “But you—”

“I don’t care what I said,” he cuts you off, his grip tightening just slightly. “You’re not leaving my side.”

Your breath catches, but before you can process it, Nam-Gyu sighs heavily. Then, without another word, he pulls you into his chest.

You freeze.

He’s never been like this before— never let his walls down even a little. But now, with his arms around you, one hand pressing against the back of your head, you can feel it. The way his heart beats just a little too fast. The way his fingers twitch like he wants to hold on tighter.

“…Stop crying,” he mutters, though there’s no real bite in his voice anymore. “I’m not mad at you.”

That’s a lie, but somehow, you believe him anyway.

You sniffle again, gripping the front of his jacket. “You sounded mad.”

Nam-Gyu sighs again, pressing his forehead against the top of your head. “Yeah, well… you scared the shit out of me.”

It’s the closest thing to an “I care about you” that you’re ever going to get from him. And for now, it’s enough.

[prlssprfctn]

"So OOC! This issue is crap"

And if I say you are reading it wrong, and this page actually makes total sense?

I saw people bashing the writer for a while on Twitter, and I couldn't help but bring this page there to discuss all criticism and explain what Jason had meant because hate comments towards Jason is insane and FOR WHAT, too! So, let's go through some points I had already heard on the Internet during this week.

1) "How dare Jason speak for other kids?"

Let's start with the most important point there: Jason does not necessarily actually want to talk about his siblings. He generalises the whole thing because it is his way to communicate about his own feelings. It is the same thing Bruce does through some comics — he puts his own feelings into a loud "we," even if the narrative doesn't always fit. People historically do that quite often when they need to feel more sure and secure in what they are talking about.

2) "Jason doesn't care about Gotham? Insane ass take"

It is not about his general feelings towards Gotham! It is about the Robin mantle and the intentional motivation to get into vigilantism. Jason loves and has always loved Gotham, and it is proven by some runs that he always finds a way to help his town, even in no capes!AU.

But this is a thing. In a perfect life scenario, Jason cares about Gotham by donation and some other charity stuff, by specfic profession, even. Not by jumping in suits. He loved Gotham, but not with the same self-sacrificing agenda with suits and fake identities as Bruce — he originally became Robin for him. To be loved and accepted. The magic the mantle gave him was family. Family and the safe place to live in.

It doesn't mean that he didn't enjoy his Robin days before the shit hit the fan. It doesn't mean that he doesn't love Gotham. Come on.

Bonus points that are very biased: funnily enough, I think he is not entirely wrong in general narrative. Most of the kids didn't start doing what they are doing now for Gotham specifically. Some of them didn't give much thought about this TOWN at the beginning of their journey. Some of them had different motivations and reasons, or circumstances. And that's OKAY. It doesn't mean that they don't care about Gotham now. It is about the original intentions and thoughts on that matter. They got attached to this city somewhere along the way, and it is beautiful and symbolic.

And yeah, they didn't jump into suits and mantle for Bruce's love as Jason did, but somewhere along this way, they also become depended on his approval and love. You can't deny it.

Here, I said it.

[littleestkirby]

I don't know if you want this perspective, so I'll put it below a cut, but here's what I can say as a practicing christian who also gets fed up with the church sometimes.

1. I think you may have been mistaught that story; Jesus never refused to heal someone. It could either be (a) the story where he doesn't travel to heal a believer's daughter becaus he heals her from that distance. (Basically, the girl's father said "I know you can heal her from here" and Jesus was impressed by his faith and said "ok I will") or (b) the story where he stops to heal someone else on the way (a bleeding woman who had been cast out from her community) and the girl dies before he gets there. He then raises her from the dead

2. The goal of Christianity is to know God. As someone smarter than me (CS Lewis, maybe?) once put it, "we don't love God because we want to go to heaven, we want to go to heaven because we love God." Basically, heaven isn't a magic rainbow land where everything YOU want comes true, it's a perfect union with god. Following Jesus (in the christian belief, anyway) is the closest you can get to heaven on earth. So, OF COURSE Jesus cares about "good christians" (though the bible says no one person alone is truly good; most who would refer to themselves as "good christians" are... misguided to say the least) Because christianity isn't a pass/fail class where if you feed enough homeless people and don't have sex before marriage, you get to go to rainbowland; it's a personal relationship with your Father/Savior/Creator. That relationship (I believe) DOES make your life better, but not in a "you'll drive a nice car and never get sick" kind of way, but a "you'll be at peace with yourself and those around you" kind of way.

3. Jesus doesn't go out of his way to meet with sinners because they're the ones whose souls are in danger, he goes out of his way to meet with sinners because they actually have the humility to listen. THEY actually WANT to know him and have been kept out of the synagogues. There are no good, already-going-to-heaven people in the bible. The Pharisees (self-appointed and societally recognized "good religious people" in the gospels) are NOT fans of Jesus and they are NOT obeying God; the reason he doesn't seek them out is because they wouldn't have listened. They BELIEVED they were already right about everything, so they were just threatened by his influence instead. They were too busy LOOKING righteous and trying to trap him in doctrine to try to know him or God.

4. Obviously, you don't have to listen to any of this. Of course I can't explain why suffering happens, or why it affects who it does. That's one of like, the main things that the collective efforts of christians through history can't explain. I'm not expecting this to convert you, but just wanted to help you understand why so many people still believe all this despite, yknow. All the suffering and stuff

One of the biggest eye-openers for me back when a I went to church was that like…

Oh man how do I explain it.

There’s this prevalent idea I see a lot in Christian circles that if you pray right, if you follow God correctly, if you’re a truly virtuous person, your problems will be solved, right?

If you suffer, if you fall ill, if bad things happen, it’s because you aren’t good enough. You don’t need medicine because if you’re worthy, if you’re faithful enough, God will reward you by healing you. Right?

But like. Discussing this with my mother, and travelling out east with our pastor… Jesus didn’t spend all his time with perfect, virtuous people. Jesus didn’t seek out and heal well-to-do, faithful, perfect Christians. In fact, there’s a specific story in which he straight up doesn’t travel out to heal a believer’s dying daughter, because she’s already “saved”. Her earthy death is okay because she’s going to heaven already.

And like… coming from our Pastor, who is one of the best guys I’ve ever met- there seems to be an ongoing, underlying message of, “Jesus doesn’t care about you if you’re a good Christian”. If you’re a good Christian, if you’re living a virtuous life on earth, then any suffering you experience is only temporary- your ETERNITY is secure. Jesus goes out of his way to meet with sinners and the unfaithful because those are the people whose souls are in danger.

So like. In that perspective, being good doesn’t make your life better, it’s just good for others and good for your soul. Praying and doing good probably won’t cure your cancer, but it may mean you don’t have to worry too much about your death.

And like. I dunno. I wouldn’t call myself a Christian, but I find myself thinking about that concept a lot

Does suffering mean you deserve a reward?

Is suffering proof that you’re unworthy?

Or is suffering just an unfortunate facet of life that doesn’t reflect on your worth, that you still have to deal with as best you can?

Maybe suffering is just suffering.

Maybe the bad things you experienced weren’t about you

And maybe you just gotta try your best and be kind anyways, so you can rest easy when you go

[latanyalove]

Loves On Fire

Summary: Ace thinks that you're going to fall out of love with him because of how he travels a lot but you could never.

Song: Friends · Chase Atlantic

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! Also please follow for more! 🫶

The salt spray kissed your face as you stood on the docks of Dawn Island, the familiar scent bringing a bittersweet ache to your chest. The Striker, Ace's ship, loomed large and imposing before you, sails already unfurled, eager to catch the wind.

You watched him, Fire Fist Ace, Commander of the Second Division of the Whitebeard Pirates. He was a whirlwind of controlled chaos, his black hair tousled by the breeze, that familiar mischievous grin plastered on his face as he barked orders to his crew.

He moved with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, a confidence that both thrilled and terrified you.

He caught your eye, and his entire demeanor softened. The boisterous commander vanished, replaced by the slightly awkward, endearingly clumsy man you knew. He waved, a wide, genuine smile splitting his face, and you returned it, trying to ignore the knot forming in your stomach.

He bounded towards you, his pace quickening with each step. “Hey, Y/N!" he greeted, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. He smelled of smoke and adventure, a potent combination that always left you breathless.

“Ace,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. You wanted to say so much more - I’ll miss you. Be safe. Come back to me. But the words caught in your throat.

He reached out, cupping your cheek with his scarred hand. His touch was warm, grounding. "I won't be gone long, you know," he said, his eyes searching yours.

You forced a smile. "I know. Just...be careful."

He chuckled, a low, reassuring sound. "When am I ever not careful?" He winked, but you saw the flicker of something else in his eyes, a shadow of doubt you hadn't noticed before.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Hey, Y/N... You’re not… you’re not going to get tired of this, are you? Of me being gone all the time?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and laced with insecurity. It was the elephant in the room, the unspoken fear that had haunted your relationship since day one.

Ace, Fire Fist Ace, a man who commanded the respect of the entire Grand Line, was afraid of losing you.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. You understood his worry. His life was a constant whirlwind of missions, battles, and adventures.

He was rarely in one place for long, and your time together was always fleeting, snatched moments amidst the chaos. It was easy to see why he might think you’d grow tired of it, that you’d yearn for a more stable, predictable life.

But he was wrong. So wrong.

“Ace,” you said, your voice firm despite the tremor in your hands. “Look at me.”

He did, his black eyes wide and vulnerable.

“Do you honestly think,” you continued, “that a few weeks, a few months, even a few years, could possibly diminish what I feel for you?”

He didn't answer, his gaze fixed on yours, searching for any sign of deceit.

You took his hand, squeezing it tightly. "I love you, Ace. Not just the idea of you, not just the thrill of your adventures, but you. The man who burns with passion, the man who protects his crew, the goofy idiot who falls asleep in the middle of meals, the man who's scared of losing me even though he's the most fearless person I know."

You paused, letting your words sink in. "Your travels, your missions, they're a part of who you are. They're in your blood. I wouldn't want to change that, even if I could. And honestly," you added with a playful nudge, "who else is going to bring back the weird and wonderful souvenirs you always seem to find?"

A slow smile spread across his face, chasing away the shadows that had clouded his eyes.

"So, you're saying my collection of miniature sea king statues is a contributing factor to our unwavering love?"

You laughed, relieved to see him back to his old self. "It certainly helps." You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "What I'm saying is that I love all of you, Ace. The part that stays here with me, and the part that sails the seas. The distance doesn't matter. The fact that I would follow you to the ends of the earth should explain my side more clearly."

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. "I love you too, Y/N. More than anything." He buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. "I just… I don’t ever want to lose you.”

You hugged him tighter, feeling his heart beating steadily against yours. “You won’t, Ace. I promise.”

He pulled back, his expression serious. "Thank you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "For understanding. For being you."

He paused, then a mischievous glint returned to his eyes. "But just so you know, those miniature sea king statues are collector's items. They'll be worth a fortune someday!"

You rolled your eyes, laughing again. "Of course they are. Only you, Ace."

The ship's bell chimed, signaling his departure. He laced his fingers through yours one last time. "I have to go," he said, his voice tinged with regret.

"I know," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

He leaned down and kissed you, a deep, lingering kiss that promised a swift return. When he pulled away, his eyes were bright with determination.

"I'll be back before you know it," he said. "And I'll bring you something even better than a miniature sea king this time."

With a final squeeze of your hand, he turned and strode towards the Striker, his figure silhouetted against the rising sun. You watched him go, your heart aching with longing, but also filled with a quiet confidence.

As the ship pulled away from the docks, Ace stood at the helm, waving to you until you were just a speck in the distance. You raised your hand in response, a silent promise echoing in your heart.

The days that followed were long and filled with a quiet solitude. You threw yourself into your work, helping the villagers, tending to your garden, and spending time with your friends.

You wrote letters to Ace, pouring out your thoughts and feelings onto the page, knowing that he would treasure them when he finally received them.

You missed him terribly, of course. The evenings were especially hard, when the silence of your small cottage seemed to amplify the absence of his laughter, his touch, his very presence.

But you refused to let the loneliness consume you.

You knew that Ace was out there, fighting, exploring, living his life to the fullest. And you trusted him to come back to you, just as he had promised.

One evening, weeks later, as the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the island, you were sitting on your porch, reading a book. Suddenly, a familiar voice shattered the peaceful silence.

"Y/N!"

You looked up, your heart leaping in your chest. Standing before you, grinning from ear to ear, was Ace. He was tanned and windswept, his clothes slightly rumpled, but his eyes were shining with happiness.

"Ace!" you cried, jumping to your feet and running towards him.

He caught you in his arms, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. "I'm back!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with joy.

You laughed, tears streaming down your face. "I see that! I missed you so much!"

He set you down, his gaze searching yours. "I missed you too," he said, his voice soft. "More than you know."

He reached into his bag and pulled out a small, intricately carved wooden box. "I told you I'd bring you something better than a miniature sea king," he said with a wink.

You opened the box, and gasped. Inside, nestled on a bed of soft velvet, was a single, perfect seashell. It was iridescent in the fading light, shimmering with all the colors of the rainbow.

"It's beautiful," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion.

"I found it on a deserted island," Ace explained. "It reminded me of you. Strong, resilient, and full of inner beauty."

He took your hand, placing the seashell in your palm. "Keep it with you," he said. "As a reminder that no matter how far apart we are, my heart will always be with you."

You closed your hand around the shell, holding it tight. "Thank you, Ace," you said. "For everything."

He smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reached his eyes. "So," he said, his voice playful again. "What do you say we go inside, and I tell you all about my adventures?"

You looped your arm through his, and together, you walked towards the house, the setting sun painting the sky in hues of orange and gold.

As you listened to Ace's stories, you knew, with absolute certainty, that your love was stronger than any distance, any challenge, any fear.

Ace thought you'd fall out of love with him because of his constant travels. He thought you'd grow tired of the uncertainty, the loneliness, the fleeting moments.

But he was wrong. He was so wrong. Because your love for him was a fire that burned brighter with each passing day, a flame that no amount of distance could ever extinguish. And you were ready to spend a lifetime showing him just how wrong he was.

You were ready to show him that some things, some loves, were simply meant to be. And yours, with Fire Fist Ace, was one of them. That shell, a precious gift from the grand line, stood as a testament to your love, a symbol of a bond that transcended the vast oceans and the perilous adventures.

It was a promise whispered on the wind, a reminder that even across the widest expanse, your hearts would forever remain intertwined. . . .

The raucous cheers still rang in your ears as you walked down the hallway, the scent of sake and grilled meat clinging to your clothes. The party was still going strong on the deck of the Moby Dick, the entire Whitebeard crew celebrating Ace's triumphant return.

A broad smile stretched across your face, mirroring the joy that bubbled within you. You had almost lost him. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, a stark reminder of the fear that had gnawed at you during his mission.

You pushed open the door to Ace's room, a space that had felt eerily empty during his absence. Now, with him lounging on the bed, his signature freckled face relaxed and content, the room felt like it was finally breathing again.

You had spent countless hours in here, curled up with a book, lost in thought, or simply waiting, hoping for his safe return.

"It's good to be back," Ace murmured, his voice a low rumble that resonated through the small space. He stretched, his muscles flexing beneath his sweat-stained shirt. "Thanks for waiting for me."

You chuckled, nudging him playfully with your foot. "Someone had to make sure your room didn't turn into a den of rats while you were gone."

He grinned. "And I appreciate it. You're the best, Y/N)"

The warmth of his words settled over you, a comforting blanket against the lingering chill of worry. "Glad to have you back, idiot. Now, if you'll excuse me," you said, turning towards the door, "I'm going to find you some clothes. You reek of gunpowder and sea salt, Ace."

His hand shot out, gripping your wrist with surprising strength. "Y/N," he said softly, his voice a low drawl that sent a familiar flutter through your stomach. "Where do you think you're going?"

You laughed, trying to ignore the way your heart was suddenly hammering against your ribs. "I told you, Ace. I wanted to get you some new clothes. You stink."

He smirked, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. "What if I took them off?"

The words hung in the air, thick with unspoken desire. Your breath hitched, your cheeks flushing despite your best efforts to remain nonchalant. You swallowed hard, trying to regain your composure.

You knew exactly what he was doing, and you knew you shouldn’t be caught up in it. Not yet, at least. But the pull was undeniable, the magnetic force between you almost unbearable.

"Ace," you began, attempting a scolding tone, but your voice wavered slightly. "There's still a party going on. People will notice if you're suddenly missing."

He tugged you closer, your back now pressed against the door. The heat radiating from his body was intoxicating, his scent a heady mix of smoke and something uniquely him.

"Let them wonder," he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "I've been away for too long. I need to... readjust."

Your gaze flickered to his lips, drawn by an invisible force. His eyes were locked on yours, a silent invitation to lose yourself in the moment.

You knew this game, and you knew you were losing.

He always had this effect on you, a potent blend of charm and raw desire that melted your resistance.

"Ace, stop," you breathed, but the words lacked conviction.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Make me," he whispered, and a jolt of electricity shot through you.

Your hand instinctively reached up, tangling in his raven hair. "You're impossible," you mumbled, your voice barely audible.

"Only for you," he replied, his lips now tracing the curve of your jaw.

The dam finally broke. You surrendered to the need that had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks, months even. You tilted your head back, giving him better access.

"God, I missed you," your voice was shaky.

Ace pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "Missed you too, Y/N. More than you know."

You looked at him with a soft expression, the joy of his return still bubbling inside you. "Show me."

He didn't need any further encouragement. His lips crashed down on yours, a kiss that was both demanding and tender, a perfect reflection of the man you loved. You met him with equal fervor, your hands exploring the familiar contours of his back, feeling the hard muscles beneath his worn shirt.

The kiss deepened, tongues dancing, bodies pressing together. The world outside the small cabin faded away, leaving only the two of you, entangled in a web of desire and relief.

He slowly broke the kiss, his breath ragged. He looked down at you, his eyes filled with a passion that made your heart pound even harder. "I want you, Y/N," he said roughly, his voice thick with need.

You swallowed hard, your gaze unwavering. "I want you too, Ace," you breathed.

He wasted no time. His hands reached for the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it up and over your head. You reciprocated, fumbling with the buttons of his own, eager to feel his skin against yours.

The room quickly became littered with discarded clothing, tangible evidence of the urgency that consumed you both.

The party continued to rage on the deck, oblivious to the intimate scene unfolding in Ace's cabin. The sounds of laughter and music were a distant hum, drowned out by the pounding of your heart and the rasp of Ace's breath against your skin.

He lifted you onto the bed, his hands roaming over your body, igniting a fire in their wake. You met his gaze, your eyes mirroring the desire that burned within him.

He leaned down, his lips finding yours again, and you lost yourself in the moment, in the taste of him, the feel of him, the sheer, unadulterated joy of being in his arms again. . . .

[milla-frenchy]

Shameless

3k1 | Lucien de Leon x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist

Summary: you ask Lucien to come over and he does exactly what you need him to Warnings: 18+ mdni. Oral (f/m), size kink, cigarettes, rimming, ass play, piv, creampie, pet names (baby, baby girl), reader has no specific physical descriptions but wears a dress

a/n:  Thank you for the inspo @gothcsz 🙏❤️ (tumblr free Kat FFS§§§) Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing and for everything, ily so, so much 🥹💕 @/saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏

“Come on baby, don't play like this now,” he said, full of self-confidence, leaning against the wall in front of your door in his stupid shirt. The mountain of shit he had been dragging behind him for years had never damage his self-esteem.

“I don’t know why I keep calling you,” you said, bitter and unfair towards him. “Every time I regret it. Before or after I fuck you.”

“Mmmm… So you regret it now? You want me to leave? Ok,” he added, turning around, before you could even answer.

“Fuck, wait, Lucien!”

He didn't hide his smile as he turned around. 

“See, baby? That's your problem, you always push people away. You're scared to be loved. And that's why you always call me.”

“Yeah, right. And you’re perfect for that, because love’s not your thing.”

He leaned against the wall again, a soft smile on his lips.

 “You think that? But who's gonna love you like I do, baby?”

“And how do you love me?”

“My way,” he said, coming closer to you, a cigarette resting behind his ear. This motherfucker was the hottest man you knew. The biggest red flag you’d ever met.

“You always say you wanna be good but you keep begging me to come over,” he said, moving closer to you, his face only a few inches away from yours. Damn, you just wanted to kiss him. To fuck him.

“Because no one can touch you like me, that deep,” he added, brushing your lips with his before pulling away.

“I’m not just talking about here,” he said, pointing at  your heart with his finger. “But also here,” he added, grabbing your pussy. “You need me. No one can fuck you like me. That deep, right?”

You swallowed loudly. Fuck, you needed him, deep and rough. He probably saw it in your eyes, but instead of leaning in and kissing you, he grabbed his cigarette and lit it. He smiled as he let the smoke out.

“Come on baby, don't give me that ‘piss off’ look. I’m gonna give you what you want,” he said, pressing his hard cock against the fabric of his black pants and pushing himself against you. He turned the cigarette over to offer it to you, and you took a drag.

“Yeah, whatever,” you said.

“Had some good dicks in the last few weeks?”

“Fucked a few. Can’t say they were that good, though.”

“Awww,” he said dramatically, before adding, “you fucked them raw? Do I have to use a condom, baby?”

“No. You’re the only dick that I fuck raw.”

He chuckled and threw his cigarette on the ground. You rolled your eyes and in two seconds he was fully against you, crushing his lips against yours, his hands cupping your cheeks.

He was never aggressive or possessive, always beautifully sensual and free. No strings attached, and that's exactly what you needed. Someone who wouldn't ask you something you couldn't or wouldn't want to give.

Each time he’d kiss you, each time you’d fuck, you never knew if it was the last time. Didn't know if you'd end up getting bored with him like with everyone else. 

You doubted he would, on the other hand. He was always patient, never seemed to take your mood swings badly. He never said ’no’ to you, even if he knew you just needed to use him, somehow. Even if you were sometimes hard on him. 

He was probably right: he loved you in his own, unconventional way, and that twisted relationship was oddly the most stable part of your life.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked as he kissed your neck, your eyes already rolling to the back of your head just at the feeling of his soft mustache brushing your skin, then his rougher beard that he loved to rub against the soft skin of your neck. Just like he loved to graze it against your inner thighs each time he ate you out.

He straightened up to look at you then licked your lips with the tip of his tongue, your mind suddenly blank.

“Need it bad, huh,” he chuckled. It wasn’t a question. Yeah, you needed it bad, but still, you shrugged.

“Come on baby, let me in,” he said against your lips, his familiar tobacco breath invading your nostrils a little more. “And I'm not talking about your cunt, she’s already droolin’, right?”

You didn’t answer and just pulled away from him to lead the way inside your house, to the dining room. You could feel his eyes fixed on your ass. You didn't even have to sway your hips to know he'd follow you anywhere at that moment.

He pushed the front door behind him, quickening his pace to be right behind you and caress the roundness of your ass before seizing your hips to make you stop.

“Mmmm, baby… I never get enough of this body,” he murmured in your ear, his hard cock against you. You wanted to say something clever, or at least something with your usual “whatever” attitude, but his touch was overwhelming you.

He slid his hands up to your breasts and cupped them sensually, his nose against your hair, he breathed it in as he said, “damn you’re so hot,” almost to himself. 

He squeezed your breasts slightly, perfectly, then pulled down your neckline, freeing your nipples swollen by desire. His hand slithered down your spine to your ass and then he grabbed his bulge.

“Shit, I’m so fucking hard,” he said, his voice not as playful as usual. “Turn around baby,” he added. You did as he asked, trying to get your composure back as you looked up at him.

He cupped your tits again and took a nipple in his mouth. He sucked and licked it, making you whine “shit” softly, as you ran your fingers in his hair and pressed his face against your skin. He chuckled, so sure of himself, that he was even hotter than a second before, and sucked your other nipple. He coated it with his saliva then peppered your chest with kisses, up towards your neck and finally your lips, his tongue quickly pushed through yours, while he grabbed the hem of your short dress then pulled it over your head. He was in a rush and your head was dizzy.

His hands were rubbing your body as if he didn't know what to touch or where to stop, but he finally covered your pussy with his full hand, his fingers brushing the wet garment.

“Mmm yeah…” he said, and you didn’t take your eyes off him as he unbuttoned his shirt then freed his hard cock from his pants. The most gorgeous cock you'd ever seen, with a fat tip and a large vein that you loved to roll under your tongue.

“Come on, baby. I’ve been thinking about fucking your mouth since you called me,” he said, slowly jacking his thick cock with his fist, his stare full of lust. 

He was insanely beautiful and hot as hell, with his shirt open over his broad chest, two chains resting at the bottom of his neck. 

“Yeah? Well I’ve been thinking about cumming in yours since I called you,” you replied.

“Damn, you’re gonna kill me one day, you know that?” he smiled. 

“Mmm… clothes off, red flag guy,” you told him, then sat on the couch, feet firmly planted on the ground, legs spread. Shameless. 

Panties still on, you knew he loved to remove them himself. 

“And light me a cigarette, big boy, will you?”

You were in charge again. He was letting you be. 

A silent game between the two of you with rules that never needed to be stated.

He took his pack out of his shirt pocket and lit a cigarette then handed it to you, letting the smoke escape from him towards you. Then he undressed, slowly and sensually.

You watched him getting naked in front of you, dragging on your cigarette from time to time, arm resting along the backrest. He always made you feel safe, free, powerful.

He remained standing for a few moments, looking at you like you were the most beautiful woman in the world. His hard cock pointed towards the ceiling, slowly jacking off again after spitting into his palm. Even though the precum was flowing from his reddened slit.

He knelt down and placed his hands on your knees before moving up the inside of your thighs, the soft rub making you shiver. When he grabbed the hem of your panties, you lifted your hips to help him to pull them down slowly, revealing your glistening pussy and the butt plug you had inserted just before he arrived.

“Shit, baby…” his husky voice and eyes full of desire made you drool a little more. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

“Fuck… Take a drag, baby,” he asked, unable to take his eyes off your two holes. He spread your thighs wider by pushing on them with his shoulders. You exhaled the blue smoke slowly, looking down at him, kneeling between your thighs. So broad, so strong, but still at your knees, leaving you in full control of your femininity. It made him even more beautiful, even more attractive, even more sensual. He grabbed one of your thighs and kissed the sensitive skin, then placed it on his shoulder.

“Fuck you're so hot. A true free spirit, aren't you?”

He didn't let you answer and leaned down, running his nose up your folds. He growled as he licked them with the tip of his tongue, then moved away slightly to look at your cunt and ass.

He seized the plug and pulled on it slightly, until the widest part reached your ring, making you moan.

“Shit,” he said, unable to say more as he watched your muscle tighten every time the metal spread it apart.

“You always let them go down on you?” he asked, moving the plug deliciously back and forth, before sticking his tongue into your wet cunt. You let your head fall back against the back of the couch. He had always been a really good fuck, but he always ate you out divinely well, leaving you breathless as soon as he dived in.

“Mmm?” he insisted.

“Shit… you’re the jealous type now?” you pantered.

“No. It turns me on to think about it,” he answered, grabbing one of your breasts with his hands.

“Damn, Lucien you're twisted…” you whimpered. “Not always… shit… I… not all men are good at it,” you stammered. 

He chuckled, so sure of himself, pushing a finger into your cunt already stuffed by his tongue. It was like he was all over your body, boobs, pussy and ass, and it was intoxicating.

“I think you forgot about your cig, baby,” he said, teasing. He wasn't one of those men. Of course he wasn't. He was so good at this. 

You crushed the cigarette in the ashtray by the armrest. He was so good that sometimes he would make you come in less time than it took you to finish your cig. Then he’d grab it from your trembling fingers to take a drag while you were still trying to catch your breath. 

His hand left your tit to press your hip against the sofa and he pushed his tongue into your drooling hole. 

“Gonna come for me? Yeah, you're gonna come for me. Soak my face, baby girl.”

You used him to get off, rubbing yourself against his nose, hands tight on his head, thighs spread as wide as possible, giving him full access to your core. You were so aroused that some of your wetness was leaking down to the plug, making it even easier for him to fuck you with it.

“Lucien,” you whined. His hand tightened on your flesh, letting you use him like you needed until you came in his mouth.

He pushed two fingers in your cunt and looked the way your body was squeezing his thick digits pumping your cunt and the plug, until it finally stopped. 

He pushed the metal all the way in then stood up and brushed your cheek as you looked up at him and straightened up, his cock inches from your lips. He held it tightly and you licked his shaft from his fingers to his tip, unable to tease him more. He growled when you took him in your mouth, focusing on the tip at first then deeper and deeper, getting your throat used to his width, and your saliva started to flow down his shaft to his fingers. Your hand caressed his balls full of cum.

“Fuck yeah, just like that,” he murmured.

You pushed his hand from his shaft and jerked him off slowly, licking his balls that you could never resist for long. He whimpered when you took one of them in your mouth, the thin skin rolling between your lips. 

“You're so easy, Lucien,” you chuckled. It was your turn to make him fall apart, and you loved it.

“Shit, yeah, I'm easy with this damn mouth,” he agreed. “That’s it baby. Keep licking them.”

You pulled them up then tasted the skin behind them, gaze looking up at him but his eyes were closed, his hands resting on your head.

“You don’t want a cigarette, Lucien?” you bantered, then licked him again from his scrotum to his ass that you teased with the tip of your tongue.

“Fuck… I can barely breathe, no I can’t smoke right now, you little minx,” he whimpered as you took a ball in your mouth. You finally released it with a needy moan. Your core was already filled with warmth again and begging for release. 

“Shit, you need it deep, right? Wanna ride it?” he asked as he held your elbow to get you up.

“No, want you to fuck me.”

“Come here then, baby. All fours. Lemme see that ass.”

You settled and he knelt behind you, rubbing his cock against your soaked folds, before grabbing the plug and pulling on it slightly, making your ring contract instinctively as it was stretching you.

He chuckled, then mocked gently, “that’s cute. As if he doesn’t want to get fucked.” He nestled his fat tip at your sloppy pussy then pushed in, and you stopped breathing for a minute under the feeling of his cock splitting you in two.

“How do you need me, baby? Need me to fix you up for a while, until next time?”

You moaned, feeling him push in your two holes.

“Tell me,” he insisted, filling you with his whole length and brushing against your cervix.

“Yeah, fuck…. Yeah, I need you to fix me.”

“Damn, baby,” he said, pulling out to eat your pussy from behind, and he removed the plug to press his nose against your ass before coming up to lick it.

“Oh god,” you whined, eyes rolling in the back of your head and fists squeezing the sofa cushions. He spat on your ass and watched the saliva run down and slide inside before licking at it, pressing his tongue against it then pushing in. Your ass opened up to let him reach inside and you couldn’t hold back a loud moan as he was lapping at your hole.

He spanked you and focused his tongue on your most private place before grabbing your ass with his two hands. You wanted to beg him to stuff you until he’d fill you with his seed. 

“Lucien, please… Fuck me.”

He straightened up and pressed his tip against your cunt, pushing in slowly to let you feel all of him sliding in.

“Oh, fuck,” you whined.

Leaning on your forearms, you didn't move, letting him thrust into you, filling you so slowly that you could feel the vein of his cock brushing your insides.

“Oh, god, that’s good Lucien, fuck…”

“Yeah? Always takin’ me so good, baby…”

He started to fuck you, his thumb pressed against your ass, growls and moans escaping from his lips. He was watching you contract on his digit as he was filling your two holes. 

“Mmm,” you hummed. “Harder, please,” you whined.

You knew he would do it for you, in the way you needed, even though you knew he would want to take his time, to get you used to him. But he had quickly understood why you called him. Because he would answer your needs, because you were safe with him. Because his cock was so big it was perfect for what you were looking for, to forget everything else. He knew you were scared to be loved, or to love, and didn't want that kind of relationship. That this way of fucking was what you needed. For now anyway, and maybe forever. He always smiled when you called him a red flag, unaware of that game he was still playing for you. He could find it funny, how wrapped he was around your finger, although you didn't even know it. Or maybe you just didn't want to see it.

He was rolling into you, faster than he wanted. Harder than he wanted. Because if it was the only way he could have you, he would never say no. Because he knew you wouldn’t fall for him, and it was probably for the best.

“Fuck, baby… your little cunt is squeezing me so hard… You know I can never say no to you, right?” he asked, sliding his hand down to your clit, eager to make you come. His entire length was pushing in and out, fucking your insides like no one else could. Not as deep, not as wide.

“Make me come, Lucien, please,” you whimpered.

His balls squeezed him painfully, waiting to give you what you wanted. When you came, tightening on his cock so fucking hard, it was enough for him to spit his cum deep into your core while he panted even louder than you, mouth crushed against your shoulder, nibling at it, his weight pushing on your back. You leaned forward and felt his length leave your cunt and his cum flowed when you lay down on the couch, under him. Already feeling so desperately empty.

He leaned towards you and kissed you. He knew you didn't want more, and wouldn't allow more. Didn't want some bullshit proximity.

He sat on the couch, putting your calves on his lap, while you stayed lying there. He lit up a cigarette for you, then another one for him. You smoked them silently until he got up and put his clothes on.

“Till next time?” he asked.

“Till next time,” you replied.

Thank you for reading 🙏

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[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Punish me.

Pairing: Boss!Joel Miller x f!reader Rating: +18, NSFW, MDNI Words count: 5853

Summary: What happens when your boss punishes you but you like it too much? You look for more. And more. Tags/Warnings: POV second person, no use of Y/N, legal unspecified age gap, power imbalance, dom!Joel / sub!reader, degradation, oral (m receiving), spanking, unprotected p in v (reader is on the pill but still, do better irl), initially dub-con but reader is very into it, risk of being caught, a little chocking if you squint, cream pie, squirting, reader has no description other than the clothes she is wearing, manipulation, slurs, pet names, reader calls Joel "Sir". This Joel is low-key inspired by Don Draper from Mad Men and the whole thing was also low-key inspired by Secretary (2002). Let me know if I forgot something important, I will add it right away. A/N: Written for Never Have I Ever challenge hosted by the lovely @yxtkiwiyxt , this was my prompt and I had so much fun working on it! Thanks for giving me the opportunity to join! 🥰 Thanks to @aurorawritestoescape for being the most precious beta and @joelmillerisapunk for being the best support I could ask for and for letting me yap about it for a month and half lol I love you so much 🥹❤️ English is not my first language, every single mistake is still on me, I deeply apologize if you find any. Thanks to anyone who will read! masterlist | Joel Miller masterlist

“Mr Miller wants to see you in his office at 3” When Pam called you to say that a shiver ran down your spine.

Your last client was the owner of a large brewing company, a self-centered rich asshole that you couldn’t stomach in any way.

He had been pressing you for weeks for you to come up with the most sexist and stupidest ad campaign ever, all while you were trying to present him with new ideas that didn't necessarily include 10 women in bikinis at the feet of one man or other such things that had been done 200 times already .

You hated the guy with every fiber of your being and you told him exactly what you were thinking about him when he called you a prude and argued that he could show you what a real man was.

Seeing his sleezy smile as he winked at you and told you that you needed to fuck more was your last straw.

You were glad to be rid of him but you knew well that your boss would not have the same opinion. 

Right out of college what you wanted was to learn the profession as soon as possible, and you wanted to learn it from the best in the business. 

Joel Miller owned the most famous advertising agency in town, so you did everything to get an internship there.

You understood why he was so successful from day one.

__________________________________

Pam was sitting at her desk as usual when you walked in. 

Her desk was a few feet from the door of Mr. Miller's office. 

A large, black, solid wooden door with a fine frame, one of those that seemed to lead to the rooms forbidden to poor commoners. 

She just looked up from the computer screen to tell you to come in, Mr. Miller was waiting for you, and then she was back to work.

Pam was a woman in her 60s, blond hair perpetually pulled back in an elegant bun, a pearl necklace around her neck, cachemire sweaters in all pastel colors, silk blouses and matching skirts.

She looked very neat, austere, you could swear you never saw her smile but heck, she was really good at her job and had been managing Mr. Miller's impossible schedule for many years.

You knocked on the door feeling your heart in your throat, thinking you were one step away from being fired.

Joel's voice bounced through the door, heavy and raspy, "come in.”

You entered trying to maintain a composure.

“Good morning, Mr Miller, you wanted to see me?” 

He put down the papers he was perusing on the desk and looked up at you.

“Oh, it's you,” he said in a very calm voice. “The one who made me lose a lot of money.”

“I...I'm sorry but the guy was too much of an asshole for me to take it,” you spat out.

You knew Joel appreciated people who were standing their ground.

“Excuse me, should I care? You just made a thousand dollar check disappear.” 

The silence that enveloped the room was unreal.

You stood in front of his stately mahogany desk, trying to keep your back straight and your shoulders high.

Of course, he didn’t care, he was an asshole too.

________________________________

He had conducted the interviews personally, without delegating it to his subordinates.

He hired you himself, without missing the opportunity to intimidate you in the meantime.

The first day you had come in you were shy, awkward, afraid of your own shadow. 

How did you think you could deliver a presentation in front of a client if you looked like a frightened little bird that had just fallen out of the nest?

Joel said he took a risk hiring you, the least you could do was to show him how much you really wanted the job.

Eventually you learned to fight. 

It hadn't been pleasant or even easy, Joel wouldn't let you get away with anything, criticized your every idea, sometimes blatantly mocked you. 

He had pushed you to work harder than you would have imagined and you were eager to let him know that you were worth something, that you were not just an honors graduate but could translate your knowledge into the practical field.

You also owed it to yourself. 

Your parents supported you but had always told you that you were not the type to work in advertising.

Too kind, too quiet, too sweet. 

“Honey, are you sure? Wouldn't you rather do some other job?” your mother always asked you. 

No, you didn't want to do anything else. And you were going to prove it to everybody.

You became a sucker for Joel’s attention in no time.

Whatever type he wanted to give to you. 

As you progressed and learned, he became gentler, too much so at times. 

Grazing your knee under the table at meetings, touching your waist way too much as you walked down the hallways talking about some projects, playfully slapping your ass once, after successfully signing your first contract with a client.

It was becoming a relationship that other colleagues didn't have to notice.

He was your mentor, your inspiration, the person who had taken you under his wing and taught you to fly.

Along with the desire to do well, however, something else grew in you over time.

Arousal, desire, need. 

It lingered in the air while you were trying to flap your wings and stay aloft.

_______________________________

“Furthermore…” his voice dropped and deepened, “we don’t tolerate this kind of language here.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the clear change in his voice. 

You knew what he was doing. 

And you liked it.

“Well, I’m sorry but there’s no other appropriate word to describe that person” you chirped.

You didn’t drop the asshole just to have this, you really hated the man with all you had, this was just a pleasant collateral damage. 

Joel being angry at you. 

Joel who wanted to punish you.

He ran a hand over his mustache, looking at you as if he wanted to devour you.

You felt your clit throb in anticipation.

He stood up from his chair, he was imposing, broad shoulders and awe-inspiring piercing eyes.

“Let me explain it to you properly. I don't care if he didn't meet your moral dictates, I don't give a damn if he was so obnoxious that he made you sick to your stomach, okay?” his voice was a thin, cold, steady blade.

“Yes, Mr. Miller” you swallowed, without breaking eye contact. “You acted like a whiny child,” he stated. “ And you made me lose a ton of money” 

His heavy step creaked faintly on the fine parquet floor. He was towering over you.

“Yeah, you said that already,” you rolled your eyes.

You would have sworn you were hearing Joel’s blood simmering in his veins and that was exactly what you wanted. 

“Do you think criminal lawyers like to defend murderers? Do you think they like their clients?” 

“No,” you muttered 

“Yeah, they don’t like them but they do it anyway because it's their job.” 

That was a little extreme example but he did make a point.

You were torn. 

Disappointing your mentor was the last thing you wanted but seeing him like that, ready to give  you a lesson was making you horny like nothing else. 

You craved it. 

“Do you know what they used to do to wayward children like you?” 

You could feel the warmth of his body with how close he had gotten.

“Yeah.” 

His eyes looked like onyx stones.

“Say it.” “They spanked them,” you finally let out.

“Yeah. You’re goddamn right, darling. They spanked them.” His words were a sheet of ice on which you couldn't wait to slide.

“Bend over the desk.” 

“No,” you tried to argue.

“I. Said. Bend.” He ordered, punctuating every word.

You raised an eyebrow, glaring at him, but finally gave in. 

You approached the desk, rested your elbows on it and jostled your ass out, poised on your heels. 

He positioned himself behind you, you turned to look at him, and he immediately hissed, 

"Eyes to the wall, missy." 

You huffed, returning your gaze to the large painting hanging behind the desk. 

His hands slid down your legs. 

It was the first time he touched you, the first time you felt his strong grip on your body, the first time his warmth penetrated your flesh.

“You really disappointed me today.” His voice was calm, low, but full of disgruntlement.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered. 

“It's not enough,”

His hands had reached the hem of your skirt, raising it dangerously, pulling it up, exposing the edge of your thigh-high stockings and your panties. 

“Do you still think you deserve a place in this agency?” 

Panic welled up inside you, you felt your cheeks on fire and your hands trembling on the wood of the desk. 

You didn't want to lose everything you had worked for. 

Joel wouldn't sign any reference letters for you, you wouldn't get a job at any other agency, and your career would be over before it even started.

You remained stubbornly silent, trying not to be seen as weak, until he blurted out, 

“answer me.”

“Yes. I made a mistake.”

“You’re goddamn right, honey,” he replied wryly.”How will you fix this?”

That honey sounded like a mockery. Like you were still too soft to do the job and be successful at it. 

You hated it and it made your pussy throb at the same time.

“I will find a way, Mr. Miller.”

“We’ll see” he retorted “But you still deserve punishment, don't you think?”

“Yes,” you breathed reluctantly.

You didn’t like to admit that but you couldn’t stop yourself.

You wanted it too much. 

You wanted him too much.

You didn’t hear him fumbling with his pants, no zippers coming undone, no buttons slipping through the buttonhole.

You just felt his breath fanning over your back and his hand gripping at your hips.

You felt his gaze seeping into your flesh. 

You would have liked to turn around, tell him to get it over with and fuck you, but you didn’t. 

You stood still in your turn, feeling the tension bubbling in your chest while he seemed so calm and collected.

He was taking his time with you.

You sighed, just before you felt the air shift behind you and his hand landed deafly on your ass.

You gasped. 

Another slap had hit you. 

Harder than before.

Pain spread all over your butt, tingling, until it turned into a destabilizing pleasure. 

You had never done anything like that before and as disconcerting as it was to admit it, you liked it. 

You liked it like crazy.

You felt a slick of arousal wetting your panties while you moaned.

“Do you want some more?” 

You nodded eagerly. 

“Oh. You gotta use your word, I feel like I taught you that, right?” He tutted. 

“Yes.” You whispered “please” 

Instead of continuing, he walked over to the bar cabinet, poured himself a couple of fingers of whiskey into a glass, sat back down on his leather chair and looked you in the eyes.  

“Get out of here.”

You stood there watching him, hunched over his desk, wood still pressing on your clothed tits, feeling like you were in a fever dream. 

Had it really happened? 

The heat still throbbing on your ass cheek told you it had.

You stood up, straightened your skirt, your darting gaze metaphorically stabbing him. 

He had humiliated you. 

How had you let this happen? And most of all, why did you want more?

You left without looking back.

Pam wasn't at the desk when you left, you slipped out as quickly as possible, with one fixed thought in mind. 

______________

The next few days he ignored you. He started following another girl who had just arrived and he was behaving the way he had with you. 

Jealousy had never been a vice of yours. Never. But seeing him chuckle at her jokes, praise her for her efforts, smile at her, start calling her by her name like he had done with you made you furious.

It squeezed your chest in a cruel fist.

You had worked on the presentation for a market-leading make-up client, and fortunately for you, the CEO had been enthusiastic about your ideas.

You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of letting him know how much he was hurting you but despite the persistence with which you tried, you grew so hungry for him that all you were thinking about was finding a way to make him furious again. 

To get punished again. You hated having fallen for his game, but by now you were a fish seeking oxygen in the mesh of the fishing net.

You were trying to get his attention in every way without success.

At the peak of your desperation, you had passed an embarrassing number of times in front of his office in the hope that he would come out.

You kept meeting only Pam bringing coffee, folders or Joel's personal correspondence.

After a week she no longer seemed surprised to find you there, there was a kind of understanding in her gaze, a muted feminine solidarity, an ill-concealed displeasure.

“Honey, why do you do this to yourself?” she seemed to say.

You didn’t care. Your pussy didn’t care either.

______________

One day, when you saw Pam pass in the hallways during the lunch break, you decided to do something.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

You had gotten up deliberately exclaiming, “Oh, I really need a coffee!” And you had pretended to head for the common room. At last you had turned the opposite corner and snuck into the hallway that led to Joel's office. You had to hurry.

You slipped inside in an instant and found yourself in front of the imposing door that led to the office of the object of your desires.

He was talking to someone on the phone, you could clearly hear his voice but none in response.

When he finished, you opened the door and entered, full of doubts and fears but the same moved by a disruptive urge you couldn't say no to.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Joel's rough voice greeted you. “I came to see my mentor,” you whispered. ”And to tell him that tomorrow we will sign the contract with the make-up company.”

You smiled, waiting for his reaction.

He demolished you immediately in response, 

“So? What do you want, a golden star? A kiss on the forehead?”

He raised an eyebrow mockingly staring at you.

“No, I just wanted to let you know,” you countered in a voice far too resentful for your taste.

You were turning on your heels to leave when you heard his voice say, 

“What is the real reason you are here?”

You turned again and looked at him. 

Elbows rested on the desk, the sleeves of the white shirt he wore rolled up to leave his muscular forearms exposed, rolling the platinum ring he wore on his middle finger around, his straight shoulders wrapped in the fabric that seemed to contain his broadness with difficulty, the first few buttons left open giving you a glimpse of a few freckles on his bronze chest. 

The posture of the boss judging you, sitting comfortably in his leather chair, a smirk plastered on his face, a defiant expression in his eyes. 

He was both sultry and irritating. 

You wanted to slap him but also take off your panties and sit on his cock. 

To be honest, you wanted to do both at the same time.

“You walked in here without asking Pam,” he noted amusedly, looking at you as if he could read your mind “What were you trying to do?” “Nothing,” you lied, fidgeting with a button on your shirt. “Just my job”

“I think you were trying to get on my nerves,” he suggested

You scoffed “You think you’re the center of my universe?”

“You’re the one in my office right now. Say what you want. Or leave. But I think you want to stay, am I right? Your pussy wants it.” 

You were speechless, totally caught off guard. 

“What do you need, darling?” He urged you, walking towards you. 

He raised a hand reaching for your cheek, brushing it with his thumb. 

His voice softened slightly, the knot in your stomach tightened. 

It felt manipulative. 

But also arousing when he gently pulled your lower lip open and grazed it with the pads of his fingers. 

He grabbed your chin and tilted your head to face him. 

His gaze was authoritative, demanding but also sweet, like he was trying to get you convinced that he was a good guy, just eager to give you something you wanted so much that you showed up uninvited to his office. 

“Punish me,” you breathed as he was sliding his fingers down your neck. 

“See? It wasn’t so difficult. This was all I needed to know,” he chuckled softly, right after grabbing you by the waist, gentleness instantly out of the menu, pulling up your skirt to expose your ass. 

“You want me to spank you again, am I right?” 

Your voice came out husky and broken, you only managed to mumble a “yes”, the most desperate yes you’ve ever said in your life. 

“That's what I was thinking,” he groaned

His hands were roaming your thighs “Hold-ups. Of course. You’re the target for that Agent Provocateur campaign we launched last month, aren't you?”

You would have laughed if you could but you felt his fingers graze the wet, sticky stain spreading across your panties and you gasped instead. 

And then his hand crushed on your ass cheek, his ring marked your skin, pain spreading across your skin, immediately replaced by an unbearable heat. 

It made you feel alive. 

You had his attention again.

One, two, three spanks burned your flesh, you could clearly feel a trickle of pleasure flowing out of you.

“How dare you come into my office just to provoke me? Don’t you know who I am? Huh, little slut?” 

“Yes,” you muttered. “yes Mr Miller but…” 

You had started this, you would have liked to say. 

You were the one flirting first. 

You were the one leading me to want you, this, always. 

Another slap hit you and you said nothing instead. You just moaned. 

A knock on the door stopped Joel in his tracks.

He froze with his hand high up in the air. 

“Who is it?” He asked nervously. 

He still held you tightly by the waist, you tried to wriggle free from his grip without success.

“It’s Pam,” her voice came muffled from outside the door. 

“Fuck” you whispered, you instantly looked around in panic for a place to hide. 

Not the bookcase, or the bar cabinet or the nice leather couch and armchair that were placed in front of it.

There was only one option.

“Get off of me,” you hissed “now!” 

Joel let go of you and you quickly cowered under the desk.

He sat down and spread his legs just enough to give you room as he moved his chair as close to the edge as he could.

“Come in” he ordered, trying to regain his composure. 

Pam cracked the door open and entered the office. 

You couldn’t see her but you could hear her light footsteps approaching the desk and her voice saying “I brought Mrs. Jones’ presentation that you wanted to review, Mr. Miller” 

“Oh. Thanks Pam” 

You could clearly hear the underlying nervousness in Joel’s voice and it was starting to make you laugh. 

You decided that since he was playing dirty you would do the same.

Your hand slowly moved up his pants, grazing his ankle, then his shin, up his thigh, until it reached his crotch.

Joel was desperately trying to hide his squirming as he examined the work of his new protégé. The one he was trying to replace you with.

It was delicious to feel him like that, helpless, harmless for once, totally at your mercy as you moved your hand up and down over his clothed cock that was desperately straining against the zipper. 

Pam didn't move, waiting for him to finish evaluating the project, only her regular breathing told you of her presence.

You liked the risk, the thrill of being discovered that ran under your skin. 

You could do more. 

Slowly, your fingers closed on the metal tag of Joel’s zipper. 

You pulled it down, while Joel tried to hide the noise with a cough. 

You pushed aside the flaps of his pants, pulling down his boxers to free his cock. He was hard in front of you. 

Thick, pink and darker at the tip, pulsing veins ran along the shaft that was slightly curved to the right.

Little drops of pre cum dripped onto his skin, making your mouth water. 

It was perfect and you had to have it. Right there and then.

You kitten-licked the underside where a white pearly bead was sliding, catching it with your tongue. 

Joel squirmed visibly on his chair, you couldn’t see it but you imagined his eyebrows shutting up and his lips twisting. 

You smiled in the heavy and heated air under the desk.

You hoped Pam would go away, but at the same time you were intrigued by putting Joel through the wringer without him being able to make any fumbling movements to stop you.

You held his cock in your hand, it throbbed in your palm, and a musky smell filled your nostrils. The smell of sex. 

You didn’t resist and licked again, more greedily, its flavor spread over your tongue. 

It was driving you crazy.

You felt his whole body stiffen as he sent his secretary away 

“That's all for now Pam, thank you. Tell the team to refine the graphics and report to Ms. Jones that the idea may work but the slogan is a bit weak, I want more ideas for next week ”

He had tried to maintain a professional tone, but his voice cracked mid-sentence, and you could only be mischievously proud of that.

As soon as Pam came out he yanked up his pants and wrapped a hand around your wrist dragging you out of your hiding place. 

“You dirty slut, what were you trying to do?" he rattled off. 

He had you standing up and trapped you against his chest, his half-dressed erection pressing hard against your ass.

His hand closed on your wrist hurt but you didn't care, you liked being manhandled like that.

You weren’t even intimidated anymore, just feral. 

Unhinged, eager, completely drunk on him.

“I thought you liked some action under the desk, Mr Miller” you replied, sneering without shame. 

“Oh you’re so thoughtful, aren’t you?” He barked, shoving you on the desk again.

“Yes I am.” You have never been so cheeky before, you were quite surprised and proud of yourself.

“No, you aren’t, darling”

With that, he pushed you onto the desk, your breasts pressed against the perfectly polished wood and his hands running to your skirt to hastily tug it down. 

It was like Deja vu.

The best type of.

He moved to lock the door.

“Hands on the desk, darling. And you better not take them out of there” 

He took off his tie, placed it on the desk and walked over.

His authoritative voice sent a rush of arousal straight to your pussy. 

He pulled down your panties, making you walk out of them and throwing them on the floor.

His hand grazed your folds, lightly at first and then he covered your whole sex and squeezed, sending a rush of adrenaline into your system 

“First time doing it? Getting fucked by your boss? Mh?”

“Yes” you breathed “I’ve never done anything like this before”

”You think you earned it?” 

“Yes”

He had withdrawn his hand from your pussy and placed both of them on your thighs.

“Bold of you. And I've already told you, you have to learn to speak properly. Yes, what?” His hands were gripping on your flesh so hard you were sure you'd end up with bruises.

“Yes, please” you whispered. “You think you deserve me giving attention to your pussy, huh?” 

His voice was low and raspy, almost like a subdued roar.

“Yes, please. Sir.” You added, emphasizing this last word.

“That's the way I like it, you're starting to learn. Turn around” You got up from the desk and he pushed you to sit on the edge, your bare pussy leaking on the surface. 

He slipped his hands down your thighs, over your bottom, up your back, stopping at the sides of your breasts. His thumbs rubbed your nipples through your shirt and lacy bra while he held you trapped between his body and the desk, standing between your open legs.

Your naked pussy throbbed against his pants, you could feel it dripping over the fabric, making a mess. He slipped his hand between the two of you, touching your folds with the pads of his fingers, up and down gathering more and more of your arousal and spreading it all over on your lips and clit. You tried hard to stifle your moans but a low husky one escaped your lips as you were rocking your hips against his hand.

“Look what I’m doing to your pussy.” He ordered while he started flicking your bundle of nerves. You looked down at his hand moving obscenely over your pussy, two of his thick fingers sliding inside you, his ring right out that was getting wet with you. You gasped loudly at the sensation when he curled them up just right, reaching for your special spot. “Be quiet” he had warned you off “either that or I’ll stop immediately” “No!” You wailed. “No, what?” He barked grasping your neck with his free hand 

You looked at yourself in his pitch black eyes, losing yourself in that deep darkness.

A taunting smile curved his lips. “No, please” you were quick to correct yourself “That’s right” his hand lightly squeezed your pulse point. “Undo my shirt, now” Your fingers were moving awkwardly over the buttons, trying to unfasten them while he continued to move his fingers inside you.

His skin, unveiled before your eyes, was almost too much to bear: golden and dotted with freckles that you wanted to lick one by one.

He smelled like whiskey and mint and a distinctive something that was only his, filling your nostrils, awakening every molecule of that secret part of you that was a slave for him.

Once you reached the last one you were so worked up you were almost on your brink, Joel noticed that right away and stopped, taking away his hand from your pussy. You whined in disappointment and he retorted 

“You don’t get to complain, darling” accompanying his words with a slap on your right tit “we clear?” “Yes, sir. I’m sorry” you breathed, feeling the pain spread all over your chest.

A rush of adrenaline made you quiver against his hot body.

He put his wet fingers in your mouth. “Clean them up, darling” And you did, you thoroughly swirled your tongue all over them, licking till the last drop, going feral for the taste of you and the way he pushed them through your lips, up to his knuckles.

“Good job”

He took off his shirt and dropped it on the floor. He shifted, moving you in front of him.

“Kneel. Show me how sorry you are for complaining” You kneeled right away, moving your hand over his pants, stroking the underline of his cock. “What do you want?” “Your cock” you purred “Ask nicely” he told you, totally unfazed by your attempt to bribe him

“Can I please pull your cock out, sir?” You would have looked up to anyone, but the power it exerted over you at that point was unmanageable and devoured you.

His onyx eyes were fixed on you, pinning you down to the ground, like he was holding your entire being in his fist. 

You couldn’t ask for anything more.

“Go ahead”

You hastily pulled down his pants and boxers, he stepped out of them and kicked them away.

You took his shaft back into your hand, licking the tip first, coating it in your saliva, until it was glistening and pulsing right before your eyes again.

You slid it in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks, savoring his musky flavor, licking him like a lollipop, like the most delicious ice cream you’ve ever had.

“That’s what a good girl does,” he praised you “she fills her pretty mouth with a nice cock, just like that” You relaxed your jaw to take all that you could of him in your mouth.

His fingers reached for the back of your head, holding you possessively 

“Go on, miss, I know you want it, don’t you? You would like my cum on your tongue, huh?” You hummed against his shaft, even more eager for him.

You tried to brush your fingers on your clit, searching for some relief from the throbbing heated mess you felt between your thighs but he scolded you 

“Nuh huh, girl, don’t you dare. You don’t get to come until I say it” You whined, reluctantly moving your hand away.

You kept sucking on his cock, devouring every inch of him with purpose, messy and sloppy, thin trades of your saliva running onto his length to his balls. 

You swirled on the tip before sliding down to them and taking one in your mouth, greedily sucking on it. 

He was granite that crumbled slightly at your every touch, trying to hold back the grunts that vibrated in his throat, trying not to close his eyes so as not to get lost in every lap of your tongue. He tried not to give you any satisfaction but at the same time his body betrayed him, letting slip how much he wanted all of that. And you. 

At his brink, he stopped you, manhandling you back on the desk, tearing away your shirt making every single button pop out and yanking at your bra to expose your nipples. 

His lips closed on one of your hard rock buds and sucked it avidly. You were a whimpering mess, whining under your breath “please sir, fuck me” 

He grazed your nipple with his teeth, running a finger through your folds. 

“Look at you, darling, so hungry for my cock your pussy is weeping,  your body is shaking…” 

With one hand he yanked the papers off the desk, a shower of paper clips followed the sheets to the floor along with a stapler and the golden tag with his name engraved on it.

“Lie down” he hissed 

You lay on the desk, obscenely open and throbbing for him, a raw uncontrollable heat flowing through your body. 

“Please” you cried. 

He grabbed your legs and placed them on his shoulders, holding you tightly by your ankles.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this” he said tapping his cock on your folds and sliding it through them, before starting to enter you agonizingly slow. 

“Mmm feel how good she’s stretching, darling, your tight little pussy’s all full of me” 

“Yes, sir” 

“Say: thank you, sir” 

“Thank you, sir” 

It was all inside you and your pussy was swallowing it hungrily.

He started thrusting into a steady rhythm, slowly at first, like tidal waves hitting you, ripples on a blank shore caressing your special spot, and then stronger, faster, like thunderstorm on the ocean, high dangerous waves making you see stars. 

His huge cock shifting and brushing against your drenched walls, sinking into you again and again. 

Your moans bounced around the room like an echo, mixing with squelching sounds of his dick slamming into you, making you his. 

“Yes, baby, you’re doing so good for me” he whispered “come here”. 

He grabbed you and held you close to his chest, making your legs parting some more, reaching for another angle that made you feel him even deeper. 

His moustache brushed along your jawline, lowering on your neck, his lips sucking on your pulse point.

“Look at you, dripping on my desk,” he muttered softly, his voice reverberating on your skin. 

The impossible pace became too much to bear when his hand moved from your hips to your clit, his thumb brushing on it. 

He looked you in the eyes, feral and assertively “you want to come, huh? Make a mess all over my cock?” 

“Yes.” You cried, seeing the wreck that you were reflecting in his deep brown eyes “yes, please sir I need it” 

“Then come, baby” he said, increasing the pressure on your clit and pushing into you like it was a matter of life or death. 

That was all you needed to hear. 

You broke the dams that still kept you anchored to reality and flooded his cock, squirting all over his desk, a complete and utter disaster disheveled and exhausted. 

The fine wood of his desk was probably ruined forever but he didn't seem to care in the slightest, he pumped into you, grabbing your neck and hair until he spurted all of him into your cunt. 

You felt it warm and sticky, painting your walls, making you full like you’ve never been before. 

He slipped out a moment later, caressing your cheeks and praising you.

You got up from his desk and clung to his neck, pulling him into a long, deep kiss, tilting your head as you felt his tongue play with yours.

“Thank you” you murmured against his lips, smiling softly “And by the way, I’m on the pill”

“I know. I saw you take it the other day in the conference room before the meeting started” he said, while adjusting his trousers and taking a clean shirt from a desk drawer.

“Get out of here, naughty girl” 

“Well, you destroyed my blouse…” you said, picking up the garment from the floor.

“Here, take mine” 

You put on his shirt, too big for you, trying to tuck it under your skirt so it was less noticeable how long it was. He helped you by rolling up your sleeves, barely touching your skin, but enough to make you feel a shiver down your spine. 

“mmm sexy,” he said when he stopped to look at you.

“Let’s try not to make this a habit” he smirked, giving you another playful slap on your ass cheek “We can't do this 24 hours a day, seven days a week.”

“Why not?” You winked right before going out the door. 

You could smell him on you and it drove you crazy. You already knew that you would use his shirt to sleep that very night and for many nights to come.

Once outside the door, Pam looked at you over her glasses, raised an eyebrow, and for the first time you saw a little smile curve her lips.

tag list for this one: @baronessvonglitter @milla-frenchy @thundermartini @probablyreadinsmut @almostempty @gothcsz @harriedandharassed

archive tag: @pedrostories Let me know if you want to be added or removed, I'll do it right away.

[finchsflight]

The most important thing, that a lot of people who want this kind of job don't get, is that you have to have an explanation.

And not some namby-pamby 'oh, you see, it was simply up my sleeve, ha ha let's all pretend this didn't happen!'. No, you need a proper, actual, well-thought-through explanation.

(At least, for the kids I show off for. If the parent didn't ever bother getting their kid into the business, or explaining tricks -- eh, you're probably fine. But if they didn't explain the tricks, well, they wouldn't need us, would they?)

The kids -- usually, at least, that I see -- want magic. But half the time they're too smart for their own good, and there's no one who'll think you're a real wizard like a little kid. They want you to be a real wizard. But you need them to think you're just really, really good.

(Y'know. On account of how we don't endanger kids. And if that's an issue for you, then I've got a big stick and you have some fun places I can shove it.)

So that's the first thing. Explanation. Every trick you've got, you better be good and prepared for them to ask you about it, in detail, at the end of the show, and if you don't have good answers, it breaks. Yeah, yeah, a magician never reveals their secrets, but little kids hate being condescended to and they'll have a great time if you show them the props and the 'real magic' behind the magic. Yes, yes, I know, it sounds stupid.

The second thing is, you're showing off, but you're not showing off. Big elemental stuff? Usually a no-no, even if you've got a good and sciency explanation. Partially because, like... if you're doing a science show, you don't need a wand. You can just go buy some liquid nitrogen. World's neat enough as is. And partially because -- look, you're a delight. But listen. You are never as good at lying to small children as you think you are, okay?

If you're gonna need an explanation, well, that means you need explainable stuff. Me, I like kinda theming things off human magicians -- you know, cards, ribbons, vanishing boxes, sleight-of-hand style stuff. A few flashy lights. That sorta thing. They love seeing a card trick that's just impossible enough to be amazing and just possible enough to be explained.

Works to add some things they can actually recognize, too; then they get a little moment where they get to feel like they've got one over on you.

And that leads pretty well to my last one.

Eventually, a kid's gonna ask you how you did something, and you're gonna give your made-up bullshit explanation that you will have gotten really good at delivering, and then either they're gonna say "That's not possible," or they're gonna ask you if you can teach them.

And you're gonna not be able to dismiss it, or you're not gonna be able to say 'sorry, I need to go', and there's gonna be a little kid who figures out that you're a wizard.

Remember what I said? How we don't endanger kids?

This is the part where that gets important.

Feel free to remember them, bookmark their name for when they grow up 'cause you think they might be a good apprentice, whatever. But you do not recruit kids.

And you already know that. So you're not gonna like what I'm about to say, because yes, it's gonna feel icky and terrible and it is, technically, about as illegal as anything can be when you're behind the -- what's the word for it these days?

Masquerade? Oh, man, that's so much better than it used to be. Nice.

Anyway.

Learn how to muddle a kid's memories.

Yeah. I know.

No, I don't like it either.

Only a few times. Thank God.

There's a trick I use, though -- and also makes it a lot less icky -- build a time limiter. Make a spell up, on your own, that is inextricably tied to a time limiter. Make it so it breaks when they're... remind me, what's, like, an age where kids are allowed to make bad choices?

Jesus. That's too young.

Well, let's say, uh... twice that? Twice that. That seems fine.

Don't make it something flashy. Just... let the memories fade back in. And after that, if they find you, it's not a kid, and they can make their own bad choices.

Yeah, I know.

I said it wasn't always a fun job. Wasn't just talking about the bodily fluids -- oh, yeah, that too. They're totally gonna get things on you. Snot, vomit, blood... small children end up bleeding a surprising amount, honestly?

Sure, yeah, I can teach you some cleaning cantrips.

When normal people throw a birthday party for their child, they call in a magician. When magicians throw a birthday party for their child, they call you.

[myloveer0]

My lovely darling

Girlfriend Ambessa Medarda X Fem!reader

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Summary: You were just trying to survive your family reunion when Ambessa Medarda—your girlfriend—showed up unannounced. Now, you have no choice but to introduce her to your entire clan. What’s got you nervous isn’t just introducing any partner—it’s the fact that you’re dating a woman who also happens to be twice your age.

💋 Enough with the smut we need sweet girlfriend Ambessa💋

Well… I didn’t expect everyone to like it that much, but anyway, here’s part 2. Part 3 will be last and be upload the day after tomorrow.... Enjoy reading!😊😉

Part II

This was not how tonight was supposed to go.

You had it all planned out—show up to the family reunion, smile through the awkward small talk, dodge questions about your love life, and make a graceful exit by faking a headache. The perfect escape. Then you'd be back to your regular life—your job, your apartment, and most importantly, your girlfriend.

Simple. Easy. Safe.

But Ambessa had other plan.

Amazing? She literally flew from the other side of the country just to see you—because she missed you already. Like you’d left her and promised to be back after two weeks.

And now, here she is, showing up before those weeks are even over… and demanded to meet your parents. You should’ve run. You should have. But with Ambessa’s hand wrapped firmly around you telling there was no turning back.

So now, here we were. Standing on your parents’ porch, the warm glow of the house lights peeking through. You could still hear the muffled sounds of laughter and conversation from inside, but all you could focus on was the weight spinning on your mind.

“You nervous?” Ambessa asked, her voice low, amused.

You shot her a look. “You think?”

She chuckled softly, leaning down to brush a kiss against your temple. “Relax. They’ll love me.''

You release a nervous laugh. You weren’t so sure about that.

Standing in front of the double doors, the weight of what was about to

happen doubled this time. You turned to face Ambessa, your heart pounding so loud..

“Bess…” you began. Ambessa raised an eyebrow, waiting. “B-before we go in, I need to say this. No matter what happens—no matter what my parents say—I’m still with you. Nothing will change, okay? We’ll stand together, even if they’re started to go against us.”

Ambessa’s lips curled into a smirk, but her eyes softened. “Of course, dear,” she said with that same effortless confidence, like there was never a doubt in her mind. Like nothing could shake her.

Was she even nervous? She was about to meet your parents for the first time, and yet she looked so calm, so in control while here you are looking like a frightened wet penguin. Wasn’t meeting the parents supposed to be the most terrifying part of a relationship? Even more nerve-wracking than getting married?

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you reached out to adjust her suit. Your fingers brushed against the lapels, but you didn’t realize they were trembling until Ambessa's hand gently closed over yours.

You already imagine all the worst-case scenarios before the night would end, and none of them sat well with you. You could possibly lose Ambessa. Or your family. Or worst, both. Just the thought of it made your chest tighten painfully. You didn't want to choose between the people you love.

The mere possibility of it was unbearable. You don't know if you can take it.

Ambessa's touch was grounding, steady, like everything you needed in that moment. Ambessa gently cupped your chin, guiding your face toward hers.

“Little one… look at me.”

You met her gaze, and the calm, steady confidence in her eyes was enough to slow your racing heart.

"Calm down... Everything’s going to be alright. We will be alright." Her voice was soft yet steady "Don’t be nervous—I’m right here, okay?"

You nodded, swallowing hard, and she gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

Before you could chicken out, you took a last deep breath before you swung the door open. Your heart thudded violently in your chest as you both stepped back inside, and it felt like the entire world paused.

Every conversation stopped mid-sentence.

Every fork froze halfway to someone’s mouth.

Your uncles, who had been lounging on the sofa watching football, paused mid-game, their attention snapping at your direction. Your aunties, mid-gossip, fell silent, their eyes narrowing at the front door. Even the children, who’d been running around shrieking with laughter, slowed to a halt, retreating to their parents like they were afraid on something.

Every pair of eyes—at least thirty family members crammed into the living room and dining area—snapped right to you and your unexpected guest. A shiver ran from your toes all the way up your spine, your heart pounding in panic.

You were just introducing your partner to the family, like your cousin did, but they never gave that kind of attention—the way they’re staring at you and Ambessa now.

It was like time had hit the brakes.

And how could they not?

When the woman beside you was an attention grabber, what more Ambessa was intimidating. She stood taller than the average man, her broad, powerful frame impossible to ignore. Every movement she made was deliberate, exuding a quiet authority that demanded respect and commanded attention the moment she entered a room.

Even board directors didn’t dare challenge her—no one did. Her employees were even terrified of looking onto her eyes or crossing path with her.

You blinked multiple times, trying to steady yourself, before glancing at Ambessa. Not a single hint of nervousness crossed her face. She stood tall and composed, completely unbothered by the dozens of eyes glued to the both of you. You could practically hear the collective whisper ripple through the room.

It wasn’t nice being gawked at, especially by this many people, especially when their eyes keep on shifting from you and Ambessa.

Ambessa was dressed in that perfectly tailored red and black suit—one that probably cost more than your car—she stood out in the best way possible. It was just a casual family gathering, and yet, there she was, looking like she’d stepped off the cover of a high-profile magazine.

And then, through the stunned silence, you spotted her.

Your mother. Eyebrows shot up so fast you thought they might hit her hairline.

You could feel your pulse in your ears. This was it. No turning back now.

Your mother’s brows knit together, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the sight of you and Ambessa standing side by side. She didn’t miss the closeness between you— and the way your hands brushed together.

Like she knew.

Like she had already put the pieces together but was desperately hoping she was wrong. But then, with a practiced calm, she clapped her hands together and forced a smile.

“Alright, everyone,” she said, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “Let’s not hover. Go on, continue enjoying your food.”

Slowly, like someone had hit play on a paused movie, people started moving again. Conversations resumed, but not without the occasional glance thrown our way. You could feel them peeking, eavesdropping, pretending they weren’t doing exactly that.

And then your parents moved in.

You drag Ambessa as you led toward the dining room. Your mother stood by the table, stirring the salad with slow, deliberate movements. She didn’t look up right away. Your father appeared behind her, his expression was unreadable, but his eyes flicked from you to Ambessa—and then back again

Meanwhile, your mother’s gaze turned laser-focused as you both stopped in front of her. Her eyes immediately darted down to yours and Ambessa's intertwined fingers.

Which made your palm run ice cold. Ambessa must’ve felt it too because she tightened her grip slightly, giving you support as her warmth seeping into your skin.

You glanced around the room, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow you whole. Why was everyone staring at you like you were the evening’s drama? You could practically feel the tension crackling in the air.

Your mom’s lips pressed into a thin line. “And who,” she began, her voice deceptively polite, “might this guest be?”

Before you could say anything, Ambessa took a step forward.

“Ambessa Medarda,” she said, offering her hand with the kind of poised confidence that could melt glaciers—or in this case, try to thaw your mother’s frosty demeanor. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet Y/N's parents.”

Your mom stared at her hand like it might bite, but she eventually took it—barely—but then turned to you, her eyes pointing dagger demanding an explanation. Your Dad, still buffering, finally shook himself out of his daze and gave Ambessa a quick handshake.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice. "Ambessa, this is my mom and dad. Mom, Dad… this is Ambessa."

...

"She’s… my girlfriend," you added, your voice softer but clear.

For a moment, it felt like time itself had stopped.

You could feel the shock ripple through the room. Eyes widened. A few audible gasps echoed in the sudden silence, and you swore even the ticking clock on the wall seemed louder than before.

You understood their reactions perfectly. Your whole life, they had known you as a straight woman—never once had you hinted otherwise. You were so good at hiding it. And now, here you were, standing before them, introducing your first-ever lover… who just so happened to be a woman.

It wasn’t just introducing Ambessa; it was, in a way, coming out. Tearing down the version of you they thought they knew and revealing something they’d never expected. You could see it in their eyes—the shock, the disbelief, the scrambling to process what this meant. And being the only gay person in the family? It was a whole new revelation for everyone.

And as much as you tried to steel yourself for this moment, you couldn’t help the nervous knot twisting in your stomach..

Your mom’s eyes widened,

''G-girlfriend?” she repeated, like she wasn’t sure she’d heard you right. The word hanging in the air like an accusation.

She immediatly stopped on what she was doing. Then, with a disbelieving shake of her head, she let out a sharp little laugh. “Since when did you have a lover? And her? really… a woman? Y/N”

You felt like you were going to be sick. Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to nod. “Yes.”

Her lips twitched—not a smile, more like an involuntary reaction she couldn’t quite control. “Are you being serious? Right now?”

Before you could answer, Ambessa’s voice cut in.

“Yes,” she said firmly, her gaze locking onto your mother’s “We’re serious.”

From the look on Ambessa's face, she was clearly quite upset by your mother’s tone.

Your mother was just about to start arguing when your father gently pulled her aside, murmuring something to calm her down. Surprisingly, she let him, though the tension in her face made it clear she was far from pleased.

“Now, now… save the conversation for later,” your father said smoothly, shooting you a look before turning back to Ambessa. “A-ambessa right? Have you had dinner yet? I bet you haven’t. Why don’t you grab a plate and help yourself?”

Relief flooded you, and you shot your father a grateful look. He only smiled, giving you a quick wink.

You were about to guide Ambessa toward the food when you noticed she hadn’t moved. Furrowing your brows, you turned to her. “Bess…?”

Before she could answer, you caught movement from the corner of your eye—Ricktus, her ever-loyal guard, stepping inside, both hands occupied with something.large.

“Before that,” Ambessa spoke, “I’d like to give something first.” She gestured toward the items in Ricktus’ hands. “I brought some gift baskets. It’s not much, but I didn’t realize Y/N had quite a big family.”

All eyes turned toward the baskets, and you could practically hear the collective shift in the room. These weren’t ordinary gift baskets—they were luxurious, the kind only the wealthy could afford. Even from a distance, you could see the careful arrangement of imported wines, artisanal chocolates, and items that looked far too expensive for anyone to afford.

Your father let out a nervous chuckle, offering a polite tone “Ah—thank you, you didn't need to but that’s very kind.” He reached out to take one, but Ricktus didn’t let go. Instead, the guard gave a small, respectful nod.

“Forgive him but they’re quite heavy,” Ambessa said evenly, her tone smooth yet firm. “Let my men carry them—just tell us where you’d like them placed.”

....

The meal was tense. You could barely swallow the food in front of you, your stomach knotted with nerves. Other than Ambessa, the martini in your hand was the only thing giving you strength. Your mom was definitely more upset than you had imagined. She had been demanding for years that you finally introduce someone—and here you were, doing exactly that. But clearly, this wasn’t what she had expected. What a way to suprise everyone..

It had been hour, and the crowd had thinned as the night stretched on. A few of the younger kids had finally tired themselves out, curled up in corners or carried off to bed by their parents. The once lively energy had settled into something quieter, more subdued.

Some of your aunts had struck up light conversation with Ambessa—mostly out of curiosity, you suspected—but you could tell they were still hesitant. And then there was your mother.

She hadn’t said a word to you.

Not since then. Not since everything.

She wasn’t throwing a fit or making a scene, but that almost made it worse. The way she moved around the room, politely engaging with everyone except you—it was deliberate. A silent cold shoulder. Like you hadn’t just been laughing together at your uncle’s joke moments ago.

And damn, it hurt.

Meanwhile, Ambessa? the unbothered queen, savoring every bite like she was at a five-star banquet instead of sitting in the middle of this emotional minefield.

She was even enjoying your mother’s homemade mac and cheese, which was shocking considering how picky of an eater she was. Even a world-renowned chefs had to bent over backward trying to impress her, and yet here she was, casually indulging in a simple family recipe.

You sat beside her leaned in slightly, your elbow resting on the table, your head propped up by your hand as you watched her. Seeing her eat—actually eat, rather than picking at her food like she usually did—made you happy. It was such a simple thing, but it meant something.

Your voice was low, “I like what you did to your hair.”

Ambessa's usual free-flowing curls were now braided back into a triple dutch braid, weaving tightly along her scalp in thick sections into the center one. A few white strands near the front contrasted against the dark, adding a striking edge to her already commanding presence. She looked good. No—she looked ridiculously good.

Ambessa paused mid-bite, glancing at you. “Ah, yes, little one… You did say you liked it this way.” She smirked, setting her fork down. “So, I had it styled before I got here.”

Your lips parted slightly. “You did it… for me?”

She hummed, taking another bite, as if it was no big deal.

Your heart stuttered, and heat crept up your cheeks. “Well, I do like it,” you admitted, staring at her shamelessly. “I can see your face clearly. You look so—”

Ambessa cut you off, her gaze sharp and knowing. “I see what you’re doing, little one.” Her voice dipped lower, teasing but firm. “But don’t flirt with me right now. You might not like what I do to you in front of your family.”

You choked on your drink. Your cheeks burned as you quickly averted your gaze.

What is wrong with this woman?!

Ambessa just chuckled, sipping her wine like she hadn’t just sent your brain into a tailspin.

You were lost in your little moment, completely wrapped up in Ambessa’s teasing, when someone cleared their throat. You both turned, and it was none other than the devil itself—your mother.

Your stomach dropped. Shit.

How could you forget she was sitting just two seats away? You had been so caught up in Ambessa’s presence that you completely overlooked the fact that your mother had full view of your shameless flirting. You could only hope she didn't hear any of it.

Wine glass in hand. Then your mother began to approached and took a seat—this time, directly in front of you. The shift was small, but it was enough to make the entire table fall quiet.

A few of your family had noticed it too.

Your mom wasn’t done. You could feel it. Maybe she was just waiting for the crowd to subside, which, in a way, was a relief—at least you wouldn’t have to endure her torture in front of an audience.

Your mother, set down her drink with an audible clink and looked directly at Ambessa “So,” she began, “Ambessa… what do you do?”

You winced internally. Here we go

______

Taglist:) @jhyoos @dakotapaigelove @daenerysluvrr @marve1stranger @angrywhisperslove @ghostie1131 @natsaffection @vyvvycg @euphoricnyctophilia @cloudstoday @imconfusrd @chezze-its

[organic-bloodbath]

Can you do a part three for Teach Ddakji to me plz

Teach Ddakji to me - Part 3

The Salesman x American!Reader

Summary: A stranger leads you towards unfolding the secrets of the man you've fallen in love with.

A/N: My people has been begging and i shall serve. Once again, i do not know what the hell i'm writing so i'm just vibing.

Part 1 - Part 2

♡♡

"I can explain," he said, putting the glasses and bottle on a side table. You kept holding the gun with your fingers.

"Yes?"

"It's only for protection, i promise," he insisted. "And it's not loaded."

You were silent, not sure exactly what to do or say.

He sighed. "When my dad was shot, i sort of got a gun to feel safer. He was killed in his own home, so getting a gun meant i could defend myself if anyone came here and tried to harm me as well."

You looked at him suspiciously, narrowing your eyes.

"I haven't used it, i swear," he promised, taking a step closer to you. You let out a sigh.

"Okay," you mumbled and shook your head. "Well, okay, i suppose."

He slowly put his hand on yours, grabbing the gun from your hold. You eventually let go of it and let him have it back.

"I can take it elsewhere if you're more comfortable then," he offered, afraid this was going to scare you away. You nodded and he went to take it to another room where you wouldn't have any business walking into.

You had never been a fan of guns. You knew people in the U.S. who had a gun at their homes but your family had never been one of those, as far as you were aware of.

You did feel bad and had sympathy for him the longer you thought about it. You couldn't imagine how bad trauma you would have if your own father was murdered, you didn't think you would be able to live anymore. You couldn't blame him for having sleepless nights and afraid for his own safety after that.

To be honest, if that happened to you, you would have gotten some sort of weapon into your home too, just in case someone would come after you too.

Soon he came back, a nervous look on his face now when he approached you slowly.

"Hopefully that didn't ruin the night?" he asked carefully and stepped in front of you.

"Do you have others in your house?" you asked. "Or like, anywhere?"

"That's the only one," he immediately swore.

He put his hand on your cheek and pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. His warm touch always managed to relax and calm you down, forget all the worries in the world for a moment. He looked at you with all his love and kindness in his eyes, and you knew you could trust him.

"Let's grab the wine, hm?"

"Okay."

♡♡

He was meant to keep his work a secret from you. You couldn't find out about what he really did, no. You would instantly leave him, that was for sure, and he didn't want to think about that possibility. He only had to come up with more and more lies - but for how long? How long could he really keep up this facade around you? He had turned his back away from you for only one moment at his house and you already managed to find one of his guns.

Or would you leave him? Would you be okay with it after all? It would be so much easier to be able to explain everything to you. But he also knew he had to keep the games secret from any outsiders who wouldn't take a part in the game.

The look on your face haunted his mind the next day as well. You had looked at him in a way like you didn't know who you were dating after all.

And for the most parts, you didn't.

The look on your face had told him loud enough that he couldn't tell you about his true self – not now or in a long time.

Along with that, he had felt someone watching him outside. He wasn't sure who it could be, but he was certain that he was being followed by someone and he didn't like that feeling at all.

He had to find out who was trying to shadow him.

♡♡

The three of you were supposed to go for a dinner together soon, but your brother had to cancel last minute and changed the plans for tomorrow, making you frustrated.

"I'm so sorry, something came up," he had texted. "Let's meet up tomorrow, okay?"

There was always something that 'came up' when you tried to make plans with him. You tried to question what he meant but he wouldn't tell you, preferring to stay all secretive to his sister.

As you were driving home in the car your friend had borrowed you to use for a week, you were falling into your thoughts a little too hard, not paying as much attention to your surroundings as a good and responsible driver should have. Sooner than you realised, you were stopped by a traffic cop and had to pull over.

You saw a man look at you through the window, motioning you to roll your window down.

He said something in Korean to you which you couldn't really understand. He switched to English as he figured you were a foreigner.

"License, please?"

You grabbed it from your purse and handed it to the man.

"You were speeding a little," he stated.

"I know, i'm really sorry, i wasn't thinking."

"I'll have to write you a ticket, miss," he said seriously.

"I know," you sighed and closed your eyes, laying your forehead against your hand. "I really am sorry, i didn't mean to."

"Are you feeling alright?" the cop asked, a hint of worry in his voice – but only a little bit.

"Yeah, yeah, no problem."

Truth to be told, you weren't entirely fine. You had slept only couple of hours and had drank almost an entire a bottle of wine last night. You weren't really hangover right now, just suffered from a bad headache, for which a painkiller hadn't helped.

"Are you sure you're able to drive further?" he tried to confirm, unsure if he should just let you go with the ticket without questioning you further.

"I'm sure," you said but didn't sound believable even to your own ears.

"Could you step out of the car, please?"

You let out a deep breath and opened the door, stepping outside. He stood right in front of you, trapping you between himself and the car. He pulled a small flashlight from his pocket.

"Follow the light with your eyes."

You did as you were told, trying to act as cool as possible. You had been only once before pulled over on the road by a cop and that had been in America. You hadn't been sure if the protocols in Korea would be the same.

He turned the flashlight off and put it back into his pocket.

"Alright, you can go now," he nodded. Thank god he didn't actually believe you had been drunk driving.

Looking at his face closer, you could see that he was young and very handsome. If you weren't in a relationship and would have met him somewhere more... relaxed environment, you could imagine yourself starting a nice chat with him.

"Thank you, officer," you said politely in Korean before stepping back into the driver's seat, slipping the ticket into your purse. You tried to make atleast a little better impression with your poor Korean skills but weren't sure how correct the pronunciation really was.

"Have a good day, miss. And do pay your ticket on time."

♡♡

"Had a fun and eventful night with your man, i hope?" your roommate asked, one eyebrow up and teeth biting her lip to hide her smirk, failing on the simple task.

"Sure did," you answered and managed to make yourself smile. You wouldn't mention the gun part of the night to her, trying to brush the entire thing off your mind. "How about you? Found a hot guy at the club?"

"Oh, i definitely did," she answered. "He's some sort of a rapper, i think, though i had never heard of him. He gave me his phone number if we should catch up again some other day."

"Mhm, he gonna take you on a date?"

"Oh god no, all i want is to get into a bed with him again. He knows what he's doing," she stated seriously. "Besides, romantically i'm into more mature men, like that your hottie. Unfortunately you can't really find those men at the clubs where people our age go to."

Your roommate had met him a few times, but rather quickly, they hadn't had the chance to actually get to know each other since you didn't really bring him inside your apartment longer than a few minutes when he would come pick you up or bring you back home. But when he had met your roommate, he had acted as the most charming version of himself, like a man would act around a girl's parents when he'd meet them for the first time.

♡♡

"Okay, darling, i need to go to work for a few hours now to settle a few things," he said later that day as you were walking on the street together, his hand holding yours. He leaned down to kiss you on your lips.

"Come pick me up afterwards?" you asked with a smile.

"Of course, see you then," he smiled, pressing one more kiss on your lips, and turned his back to you, disappearing behind the next corner.

You took your phone from your pocket and was browsing a song on Spotify to listen to, until a man stopped you, stepping in front of you.

"Excuse me," the man said, making you turn around to face him. "You were with a man just a moment ago, dressed in a suit, right?"

"Um," you started, brows furrowed in confusion. "What's this about?"

"You were with a man in a suit?"

"Yes, but i-"

"Listen, i really need to find him. He's uh... a colleague of mine," he explained. "And i need to see him as soon as possible."

"Why do you need to see him?"

"We have some business to do. Work related," he quickly answered.

"Don't you have his phone number? Work phone or something?"

"I got a new phone and lost it."

"Just call to your workplace, maybe they can-"

"I don't have the time right now," he said, startling you with the tone of his voice. He noticed it and lowered his voice a little, not meaning to freak you out. "Could you just point the way, please?"

"Well, he didn't really say where he was going. Only that he had to go to work. Can't you meet him there?"

You narrowed your eyes, you could tell he acted very suspiciously. Did this man really know him? He had sounded so hesitant when telling how he knew him. Usually you weren't able to tell very easily when someone was lying to you, but right now even you could tell his behavior and reactions were too odd.

Besides, this guy was complete opposite than the man you knew, by the looks of him atleast. If they worked together and were on their way to work, you'd imagine this stranger would wear a suit too or something similar and cleaner.

♡♡

Gi-hun could tell that you were completely oblivious about the Recruiter or otherwise you were just a good actress to hide his secrets, refusing to tell his location. But you had looked completely lost with Gi-hun's approach to you and the talk about the man's work.

To be fair, he did probably look like a crazy person so he couldn't exactly blame you for not giving the information he so desperately needed.

Gi-hun hadn't thought about the Recruiter's private life, of course not, so it was strange to see a woman kiss him and hold his hand. He always seemed like only a pawn in this sick game to other people, since Gi-hun didn't even know his name either. The Recruiter always wore that same suit too, he felt like some sort of a default character in a game who had no proper development.

Which he basically was.

Gi-hun had lost his contact to the men he had hired to track down this man, until finally, his phone rang again.

♡♡

Of course you had grown too curious and suspicious about this stranger that you had to follow him wherever he was going.

Was it a good idea? Probably not, but you were still going to do it. It slowly started to rain, and of course you didn't carry an umbrella with you.

The man got a phone call, but you couldn't fully understand what he was saying since he spoke in Korean. You had studied Korean the best you could during the months you had been here and a little before you left America, but you couldn't translate complete conversations in your mind in just a few seconds. But you could hear some familiar words in the man's speech here and there. You could have probably understood more if he talked more slowly.

Where?

What?

Hotel?

Four?

The tone of his voice sounded panicked and rushed too, even more making you curious.

After a while he finished the call and put his phone back into his pocket. He started walking fast around the corner, soon starting to move faster and faster.

You quickly ran after him. You tried to make sure that he wouldn't see you if he happened to glance back over his shoulder, but you also couldn't lose the sight of him. You weren't exactly the fastest runner and would be out of breath soon, but luckily the distance to the destination wasn't too large.

Eventually, you ended up by a building, a hotel or hostel of some sorts. He went to the back of the building through a side alley, not entering through the front doors, which seemed to be locked by chains.

When you entered the hotel inside, you had lost the man, but you knew for sure that he had arrived here as well, right before you, so he couldn't be very far.

There was nobody else around, the place was totally empty, most of the lights were out and there were no sounds around you, forcing you to tiptoe even quieter not to make yourself known to anyone else possibly here. You didn't want a guard to find you trespassing, if there was one.

You started walking up the stairs, slowly and as quietly as possible, heart racing so fast you were afraid someone could hear it if they stood too close to you. You unintentionally held your breath as well out of this thick suspense what was going on.

Maybe this was completely unrelated to the man you loved. Maybe something else had come up with him and you were following a stranger somewhere private like a creep. Would this end up being a trap of some sorts?

Then, you heard speech somewhere in the fourth floor and walked towards the noise with even slower steps.

You were approaching one of the rooms where you heard two men talking to each other now much more clearly – the walls of this building seemed to be as thin as paper, since you had heard them already further away.

But then you noticed that the door wasn't closed, so you could easily open it without a sound and peek inside the room.

Two men were sitting at a table on the opposite sides, facing each other. It was that same man who had stopped you on the street. Your eyes widened on what you were witnessing right now.

He had a gun in his hand. It wasn't the same revolver which you had seen in his house.

"I used to work at the game too," he explained to the man with a calm voice. "Clearing and burning countless of bodies of people like you. I remember thinking: 'These things aren't human. They're just trash, they have no purpose in this world.' That's what i kept telling myself for a few years. One day they gave me a gun. I liked the way it felt. It was like someone had finally acknowledged my existence." He leaned back in his chair. "I don't know what year it was, but there was a man who lost, and i went over to shoot him. I recognised his face. Guess who it was?" He now leaned towards the man opposite him, his voice turning into a mere whisper, and you weren't sure if you heard it correctly or just imagined it. "My dad." You noticed a small smile lingering on his lips. "I was pointing the weapon at my very own father. And he begged me, tears in his eyes, to spare his life. You know what i did?" In under a second he lifted the gun and pointed it right towards the other man's face, who didn't even flinch. "I shot him right in the middle of his forehead and i realised: 'Huh, i guess i really am good at this'."

Your blood ran cold and all you wanted to do was to run away, but your legs refused to move at all. They shared a few more words but you couldn't concentrate on their conversation anymore. You felt like you weren't able to breathe. The ground beneath your feet was slowly failing you.

The next time you looked towards them, he pressed the gun on the man's forehead again, now actually pulling the trigger, making you slightly jump from the noise.

You were frozen on your place. What the hell were you supposed to do in this situation? Run away, confront them or call someone for help?

But as he moved the gun towards himself, inserting the gun deep inside his mouth, a playful smirk on his face, you had to act.

You tried to say something as you stepped towards the table from the shadows, finally able to make yourself move before he would be able to pull the trigger, but you couldn't get a word out of your mouth.

He let the gun slowly fall out of his mouth and his entire face turned pale like a ghost as he realised who had joined their little game. When his eyes met yours, you noticed something red on his cheek, and you instantly thought of it being someone else's blood, the same red splattered on the collar of his white shirt.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?"

This was the man who you had fallen in love with. A man who took you on sweet dates, took you into his warm embrace as you slept with him in the same bed, kissed you both softly and with passion... a man who opened up to you about his father's death and how someone had murdered him coldblood.

The murderer had been him all along. How could you be so naive and dumb? Had there been red flags which you had just missed?

Other than the damn gun at his house.

But now there sat only a man just couple of metres away from you who had just confessed on shooting his own father with his own gun. Pulling the trigger himself. And he had told it with a smile on his face.

He had lied to you this entire time. You wanted to shout and yell at him, then run away, but you couldn't move your body. Until he stood up.

Instantly, without hesitation you took a step back as he took one towards you, which made his heart break.

♡♡

A/N: I'm not sorry about the ending 🙂‍↔️ the last scene is obviously not 100% accurate to the show. Next part will take a while too so be patient with me 🫶🏻 if you want to be added or stay on the taglist, lmk.

Tags:

@k1ra-park3r

@aftersnrise

@sakurayashiro

@zmbiefiend

@preppyfella

[avianyuh]

Soulmates | Jeon Wonwoo

word count: 367

“I think you’re my soulmate.” He said, our fingers intertwined as we lay side by side on his bed. He had his circle framed glasses on and the light from the bedside lamp reflected off of his lenses. The blinds were drawn up, but all you could see was darkness outside.

Normally, soulmates are viewed as some cheesy concept. Something stupid you’d say when you’re a teenager. But why? Don’t we all want to meet someone that feels so perfect. Almost like that person was specifically made for you? 

I think back to all of the times we’d find ourselves saying the same things. Or he’d recommend a book to me that I had already read. 

The times I’d glance at him and know exactly what was on his mind. 

The way we communicate by squeezing each other’s hands to let the other know if we want to stay out or go home. 

All the times he’s gone for work. Weeks at a time where we don’t see each other. I know he'll come back but always find it hard to fall asleep during those times. Yet, in the midst of the chaos, he still always found the time to send a text to check in, or sneak away to call. He’ll ask if I’m okay and if I’ve been eating enough… And though I act annoyed, I secretly love that he cares. 

In response to his confession, I turn my body onto my side so I'm fully looking at him now. Our hands are still glued together. "Yeah" I smile. "I think you're my soulmate too." Eyes locked on his as I plant my lips on his own. His kisses are always so familiar, yet delicate.

So there I am, in my boyfriend's bed with his lips on mine and I know there will never be another moment in time like this. Another time where I feel as wanted and as safe as I do right now.

But that’s what a soulmate is, your better half. The one person in the entire world who completes you. Who puts your mind at ease. The one you will always find your way back to time and time again. 

{A/N: Happy Valentines babes. Sorry I haven't posted much but just as I anticipated, I've been busy with school. I wanted to write something romantic for V Day and i have no manz at the moment and was a little in my feels about that😓 But I love Wonwoo in his circle lenses so I found a way to mention those lmao. Also I started a Substack (literally signed up today) to write on so I have a place to post my non fanfic content/stories. I'll link that in my bio pretty soon if anyone would like to read anything over there (it's free) Just subscribing to be on the email list would really help me and since I have over 700 followers on here I thought it'd be worth a shot to mention it. But anyways, most likely by the end of the month, I'll have up DK as a boyfriend. If not the end of the month then early March. Okay, as always, I love you and mwahhhhh💋}

[thezombieprostitute]

Nurse Heartthrob

Summary: Your son is in the hospital and his nurse makes sure to take care of him and you.

Warnings: Ex-boyfriend angst, Hospital setting, Sick child. Please let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Reader is female. No other physical descriptors used.

Word Count: ~2.5k

As always, many thanks to @bigtreefest for her help with the medical stuff!

It's a phone call no parent ever wants to get. Your son, Val, had passed out on the playground and they were rushing him to the hospital. You let your boss know what was happening and drove out to the emergency room where the school said they'd sent him. Dr. Rogers was very reassuring about everything but insisted Val get admitted to pediatrics.

Given your son's medical history you were quick to agree. Val had been diagnosed with Long QT Syndrome just a few months after he was born. That was, apparently, the final straw for your ex-boyfriend, claiming he couldn't handle the responsibility of taking care of a sick child. Never mind that having a kid was his idea to begin with. Never mind that you'd already been doing most of the work. He left the two of you and, last you'd heard, he'd been hitting up younger women at the same bar where he'd met you.

For now, though, you had to focus on your son. The pediatrics nurse, Jake, was incredible. He had Val smiling and feeling at ease in minutes while also putting you at ease with his competency. Watching your baby getting IVs, shots, blood draws never got easier but, thankfully, Jake was proficient and you know Val's not hurting more needed. The doctor comes in, asking the usual questions. You always keep a folder of Val's medical history, always updating it with each appointment.

She looks over everything and finally says, "I agree Val should stay in the hospital for a bit but we don't have room in pediatrics. Thankfully there are a few open beds in cardiology and that'll make it easier to get Val the tests he needs."

You nod in understanding and the doctor gives Jake the go-ahead.

As he starts prepping the bed to move you ask, "how long do you think until someone takes us to cardiology?"

"I'm taking you now," he smiles.

"Aren't..aren't there designated nurses? Techs? Who move the beds between departments?"

"Normally, yes," Jake nods. "But my wife works in cardiology so they let me escort patients there so I can get a few minutes with her."

"That's sweet," Val pipes up. His voice is tired, weak, and it breaks your heart.

"It really is," you agree. You stuff down the jealousy you feel. It's clear Jake loves his wife and you really wish you had that for yourself.

Jake makes conversation easy throughout the walk. Val tells him about his latest Lego creation and he gets almost cartoonishly animated, making you and Val smile.

You know you've reached the cardiology wing when Jake stands up and waves, "Dr. Wifey! Over here!"

One of the doctors stops what she's doing, her face beaming with happiness, and walks over.

Following her is one of the biggest nurses you've ever seen. He's got a buzz cut, a slight beard, and eyes that look like a clear blue sky in winter. But his build, the tattoo covered arms especially, is making your own heart flutter.

"Dr. Wifey" introduces herself to you with her actual name, though you're certain you'll always think of her as "Dr. Wifey." She asks the nurse, Curtis, to take over pushing the bed so Jake can get back to pediatrics. While she looks at Jake affectionately, get actions and tone are professional, for which you're grateful. As cute as they are together, you can only stomach so much sweetness. Less so during times like this.

You get the impression that Curtis feels the same with how he rolls his eyes a little. He smiles at you and Val, introducing himself before taking over moving the bed. He and Jake banter a little and you're not sure if they're actually friends, if they're trying to make things easier for you and Val, or both. You hope it's both.

"Okay, Jake, we've gotta get Val to his room and you gotta get back to work," Dr. Wifey says with a kiss.

"Later, Nurse Puppy," Curtis waves as he starts moving the bed.

"See ya, Nurse Heartthrob," Jake returns as he starts walking back.

While Val is giggling at the banter you see Curtis turn pink, making you not ask about the nickname. Truth be told, the way your own heart reacted to him, you're pretty sure you already know the source.

Along the way Dr. Wifey is looking over Val's chart and praising your detailed, organized folder. Her questions are so much more relevant than some of Val's other appointments. You don't have to repeat information and her follow up questions show she's actually listening. It's a nice change of pace from the doctors who never seem to believe anything you tell them.

She asks some questions directly to Val about what he was doing right before he passed out. He shakes his head and says he was just sitting around at recess. You sense there's something he's not saying and encourage him to tell the whole truth, that he's safe.

"How about we start you off with a nap?" Dr. Wifey suggests. "You've had a long, scary day and could probably use the rest."

"Yes, please," Val pouts.

"Okay," you nod. "You get some rest and I'll run home and get our hospital bags, okay? The ones with Legos?"

"Thanks, Mom," Val smiles. You smile back and say a quick goodbye before heading out.

As soon as you're out of hearing range, Curtis turns to Val, "so what were you really doing? Get into a fight with some of the other kids or something?"

Val hesitates and Dr. Wifey adds, "patient doctor confidentiality, Val. Anything you tell me is just between us."

"I tried playing kickball," he confesses. "I know I'm not supposed to. That I have be careful with my heart. But it looked like fun!"

Curtis feels his heart wrench at that. He just wants to be a kid, but because of some inherited disorder, he can't even run around.

"Why didn't you want to say anything in front of your mother?" Dr. Wifey follows up.

"Because I don't want her to get upset."

"Upset?" Curtis raises an eyebrow, immediately on guard for something horrible.

"She cries so much," Val tells whispers. "Sometimes, when she thinks I'm asleep, I'll hear her crying about wishing she could give me a normal life. I don't want her crying because I tried to play."

Curtis fights to keep himself under control. If the kickball comment wrenched his heart, this was a punch to the gut.

"She sounds like a good mom," Dr. Wifey chimes in. Curtis recognizes the emotion in her voice. Val only nods in response.

"She said the hospital bag included Legos?" Curtis chimes in.

"Yeah," Val smiles softly. "They're fun and...and normal. They help me play while not hurting my heart."

"They're definitely fun," Curtis agrees. "When you get them, can I play with them a little? I could use the diversion during my shift."

Val's smile widens, "yeah. That sounds good."

As you park in the hospital parking lot for the second time that day, you take a minute to steady yourself. You know the nap suggestion was a ploy so they could ask Val questions without having you answer for him. Normally they wait until they start doing tests but Val probably could use the rest. Maybe it was so the doctor could get some more time to look over Val's history and not duplicate any needless tests. You only hope Val finally told them something so they can take care of him properly. It's killing you that Val thinks he needs to keep secrets from you, but you suppose it's part of what happens as kids get older.

You'd been so distracted on your way last time you'd forgotten to make note of the directions to Val's bed, so you stopped at the Nurses' Station.

"Oh, Val's your kid!" Teresa, the nurse, comments. "He's such a sweetie!"

"Thank you," you smile.

"He and Nurse Heartthrob have become fast friends, too."

"Nurse Heartthrob?" Though you'd heard the nickname before, you thought it was between Curtis and Jake.

"We call him that because his appearance always makes the patients' heart rates spike," she chuckles. "He's quite the looker. Have you seen those arms?"

"I have," you half smile. "Trying not to, though. Guy that looks like him has to have a partner or something already."

She sighs, "I know. As far as we can tell he's single, but no one knows for certain. He just says he doesn't date coworkers which, honestly, don't blame him. A few girls were tempted to switch to other parts of the hospital."

That makes you chuckle. "It's nice to know I'm not the only one who's got trouble getting a date with a hottie."

"As much as I'm enjoying the compliments," Curtis's voice interrupts you, "how about I lead you to Val's room?"

Teresa's eyes widen almost as much as yours. You cough from surprise, your face heated with embarrassment. Who knew such a large man could move so quietly? Or maybe you're just that tired.

When you get your bearings you turn to Curtis, "yes, please. Thank you." When you're far enough away from the Nurses' Station you apologize. "I'm sorry about that conversation. I...should have been more respectful."

Curtis shakes his head, "not the first time I've heard something like it. Probably won't be the last."

"Still, I feel like I should be past the whole high school thing."

"Lotta people should be but aren't. You get used to it, especially in a hospital."

"I suppose people who work your kind of job do need whatever outlets they can get."

Curtis nods. "For a lot of nurses it's the gossip, the trash tv. Other times it's meditation or yoga. Stuff you don't have to think about. Lets you keep your mental energy for the patients."

"Can I ask what your outlet is?"

"Only if I can ask you a question about you and Val."

"Sure."

Curtis stops walking and leans in, conspiratorially. "My outlet is junk food. It means I have to spend a ton of time in the gym, but I'm addicted to those thousand-plus-calorie snacks and fast food. It's food I don't have to cook, don't have to worry about clean up, and it gives me the energy I need for the day."

"I can relate," you nod, smiling. "With Val's health we always have to be careful with what we eat but sometimes I'll treat myself to something on my way to work."

Curtis smiles and you feel your heart speed up. "I'm glad you treat yourself from time to time. From what Val's told us, you work really hard to take care of him."

Your smile drops, "he's my world. Such a good kid who never asked for any of this."

"But that also leads me to my question, what's the story behind Val's...Y chromosome contributor?"

"I gotta remember that one," you snort. "Last I heard, the contributor is at a bar he's way too old for hitting on women who are way too young. He swore up and down that having a kid would be great for us, that it was his life's dream to have a child. Then, when Val was diagnosed, he bailed saying he couldn't handle the pressure or something."

"Well that's bullshit," Curtis scoffs. "How much did you tell Val?"

"I told Val his 'dad' is a liar who doesn't deserve us. That he lied about being faithful to the two of us. It's enough of the truth without Val needing to worry about his health being the reason he doesn't have a dad like so many other kids."

"Your secret is safe with me," Curtis says in such a way that you believe him.

"Thank you."

"By the way, you have two hospital bags for Val? Is one of them just for his toys or something?"

"One of them is for me," you explain. "I still need to work, but I can spend all my non-work time here with him. Got myself some toiletries, a phone charger for my books, a couple changes of clothing, all that."

Curtis just nods, silently wishing more patients had someone willing to stick around for them.

When you get to Val's bed he's sleeping soundly. You're careful to get things settled so that you don't wake him. You put his latest Lego creation on the patient table so he can see it when he wakes up. You called his school while you were getting the bags and they promised to have materials for you so you can keep up his lessons.

Throughout the week, every time Curtis arrives to work, he makes sure to get you a coffee. He says it's the free stuff from the break room. You have no idea he's buying you the better stuff from the cafe and pouring it into one of the generic cups from the coffee dispenser. Some of his coworkers give him questioning looks but he pretends he doesn't see; he's not entirely sure why he's doing it either.

Sometimes when you get to the hospital after work, you'll catch Curtis and Val playing with his Legos. It warms your heart to see Val smile and laugh so much. Even when he sleeps, he's smiling. It makes you wonder if you should try getting back into dating, giving Val someone else who cares for him. Giving yourself someone who cares for you. You're not sure anyone could compare to Curtis, but that's not really a fair comparison to begin with. It's his job to be caring and supporting. To check in on you and Val. Besides, someone like him can do much better than a single mother with a sick kid.

The morning before Val gets released to go home, you go for a drive to the nearest McDonald's and order some of the worst sounding foods you see.

Back at the hospital, you spot Curtis and hand him the bag. "Just a small thank you for taking care of me and Val so much."

Curtis feels his mouth watering at the smell of the food. It's such a big bag, too! He smiles, "any time. And, uh, if it's not too forward, can I give you my number? In case you or Val need some help?"

Your eyes soften and Curtis feels his heart lurch, worried he overstepped. "I can't ask that of you, Curtis. You have such a taxing job already. You don't need to work outside of the hospital, too."

"I wouldn't consider it work," he tells you. "I'd consider it...getting to know someone better? Someone I'm...I'm interested in getting to know better?"

"Oh? Oh!" you exclaim as your eyes widen. "You...you really mean that?"

His eyes soften as he smiles. "Yeah, I mean it."

"Thank you, Curtis. I'm looking forward to calling you."

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