#sir please just one little email

[lis-likes-fics]

Lab Rats

Pairings: professor!Jonathan Crane x student!Reader Word Count: 8.2k words Prompt: Sex Pollen Warnings: NSFW, smut, dubcon, professor/student relationship, sex pollen, oral (m!receving), fingering, edging, multiple orgasms, dumbification, name calling, degradation, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie... A/N: This is a day late, but I got it done! I hope you enjoy this filthy piece. Dr. Crane is so much fun to write for!

The call of your name stalled you from packing the rest of your items, your fingers tingling and your ears burning at the sound of your name breaching his lips.

“Could you stay after class, please?” Professor Crane asked, looking upon you with a set smile.

You remained calm. He would read any unnecessary excitement in the way you breathed.

You nodded, trying to sink back into the rest of the class, packing their bags to leave. You pulled the zipper of your bag closed. When enough people left the room, you made your way to the front with your bag on your person.

You had taken a certain fascination with Dr. Jonathan Crane the first moment you stepped into his class. He was handsome and charming, he knew how to teach and he always managed to pull you in.

He wasn't soft on anyone, even his favorite student usually didn't receive much special treatment. On the first day of classes, he told everyone that 50% of the class would be walking out of the door by the end of the week, and he was right. Better for you, that just meant less people to steal his attention away, less competition when it came to acing his tests and projects.

You loved his class, not just for the topic—obviously. Over the past couple of weeks, you felt his shift. His usual objectivity had switched and he seemed to point you out a little more. He praised your work, he accepted all of your input in class, he would even email you personally (sometimes talk to you after class) on your work to tell you how well you were doing.

You knew your attraction toward him would never amount to anything, it would never work out. But your fantasy was enough to quench your hunger for his attention and affection.

“Yes, sir?” you asked as you walked up to him.

Crane smiled at you. “I have a few matters I would like to speak with you privately… Could you spare the time?”

The strength of your heartbeat was extra hard for a few moments as you took in his words. You nod, “Of course, professor.”

“Step into my office?” he asked, gesturing toward the door with his name on it.

You took the first step, walking toward the door as he followed behind. You were suddenly very self-conscious of the way that you walked as you opened the door.

He moved around you when you were both inside, allowing you to shut the door as he took his spot in front of his desk. He leaned back on it, crossing his legs at the ankles and putting his hands in his pockets.

You knew this one. He was presenting his body language to seem more relaxed in order to ease you from your guard so he could properly manipulate you into agreeing with whatever he said.

He sighed, taking a moment to look upon you. “I would like you to know that I admire you and your work greatly,” he began, “and this is what allows me to ask this of you so freely.”

You blinked, anticipating his offer. “Yes, professor?”

He smiled, almost slyly. “I am conducting an experiment of sorts, a scientific breakthrough that I would like you to be the face of.”

You stared at him, your eyes wider than you meant for them to be as you slowly recovered. “I… Me?”

He nodded. “As part of a selection of students.”

Your heart sunk slightly at that. One of a group, but his first choice, at least…

“Oh,” you nodded. “Alright, uhm… Why—What, uh…” You reprimanded yourself for your lack of eloquence. “What is the experiment? What kind is it?”

“Unfortunately,” he breathed in deep, letting out a long sigh, “that must be kept a secret until I come to a close. It's not quite done—a few last minute tweaks need to be made…” He looked off slightly, thinking to himself for a split second. His attention turned back to you, looking at you a little closer, bringing you in.

He spoke slowly, leaning off the desk to stand. He moved a little closer, and you felt his hand brush your elbow. “But I would like to know that you would be willing to drop everything at a moment’s notice when I do contact you for it.”

He took another step forward, closer now to you. You knew this one, too. He was making it personal, making you compliant. You knew this trick, it was Psychology 101.

But it worked anyway.

“Oh,” you licked your bottom lip: your own trick. “Okay.”

He smiled, raising his brows, “Yes?” he nodded.

You returned the nod. “Yes, sir,” you smiled. “I…would be honored to.”

He held your eye contact, not letting go as he nodded. “Excellent!” he exclaimed gently. He leaned in a little, close to your face, too close for a professor talking to his student. “You really are my greatest student.”

You smiled, perhaps too much. You feel too giggly. “I'm…so glad.”

He moved his hand from your elbow to raise a finger, shaking it gently at you. “Remember,” he teased, “at a moment’s notice.”

You nodded definitely. “Of course.”

He offered you a charming smile before stepping out of your space, breaking the spell. He tilted his head toward you. “You may go.” Just as you were lifting your foot, he held out a hand toward you. “And thank you very much.”

With one last nod, you stepped back. “Not a problem, sir.”

You stepped out of his office, closing the door gently behind you. Gently biting your lip, you unsilenced your phone as you left his classroom.

~

The shrill ring of your phone cut through the late night and woke you brutally from your slumber. You gasped as you reluctantly blinked through the dark to direct your eyes to the abusive light emanating from the phone. The clock next to it on the nightstand read far past midnight. You moaned deeply, speaking but only forming actual words toward the middle of your complaint.

“...’f i’s ‘nother sp’m…” You wiped your face and covered your eyes as you answered the phone, not quite awake but too tired to deal with waking up.

“Hullo?”

The voice on the other end woke you up just a little more, not quite clearing the fog in your brain but allowing you to put more effort into sounding a little more awake.

“It's time.”

Time for wh—Oh.

You suddenly remembered Dr. Crane's experiment, the one he wanted to test with you. Your gut clenched and your heart picked up and startled you awake. It was time.

“Oh.”

~

You pressed your finger into the doorbell, checking the address of Dr. Crane's house out of nerves a fifth time and the time for the twentieth. You wrapped your coat tighter around you, the chilly breeze persuaded by the winter air of Gotham so close to Christmas time. They would be letting you out for the break soon…

The door opened, a little crack and a creak to allow you entry.

“Just go along with whatever happens.”

You thought back to his instructions on the phone, vague instructions you briefly considered not trusting. But he was your professor. He had your best interests at heart, surely.

You reached your hand toward the knob, timidly reaching. He wasn't at the door. Should you actually go in?

“Don't waste time asking questions. Everything will be explained when you get there.”

You pushed the door open and walked inside, shucking your coat off as you nervously looked around the house. You shut the door behind you, hanging your coat on the rack by the entrance and leaving your shoes next to the ones by the door.

You swallowed thickly as you looked around, stepping further inside. “Uhm…” you cleared your throat. “Dr. Crane? Are you still home?”

You were met with silence as you continued to quietly step through the living room, the air so still that you could feel your heart beating heavily in your chest. You were so nervous, your blood was pumping and you were bordering on scared as you tried to keep your breath level. Your flesh raised with goosebumps. It was too quiet.

You almost didn't want to speak again, afraid to break the silence and disturb something unknown lurking around the corner.

“Dr. Crane?” you called again, suddenly feeling very warm and very frightened. Where was he? “Professor?”

“In here.”

The voice was distant when he spoke, giving you some reprieve from the silence but feeding your anxiety, fueling your fight-or-flight.

“Where?” you wondered aloud, stepping past the archway that led into the hall.

“Just a few steps more…”

Could he see you? Was he taunting you on purpose? Perhaps part of the experiment?

The anxiety curled in your stomach, kept your footsteps slow and your breath shallow and a scream ready in your throat in case you needed it.

You were reluctant to speak. “Sir?” You pressed your palm along the wall of the hall and began to peer around the corner, into a room on the left. Maybe Dr. Crane was waiting there…

A strange, strong mist invaded your senses as you turned the corner. Raring up the scream, you gasped and your eyes stung, resulting in a heavy cough that took a moment to die down. You braced yourself on the wall, holding yourself up as you tried to clear your eyes, clouded by tears from both the coughing and the mist burning your eyes. You watched the mist clear, breathing in desperately for air.

“Shh, shh, shh, shh,” Dr. Crane's voice came, then his hands on your shoulders as he pulled you in and guided you into the room. “That's good,” he bid.

He held you steady as you blinked rapidly and steadied your breath. “I took the liberty of testing my hypothesis that it would work faster if the patient is already running on adrenaline.”

You wiped the tears roughly from your eyes. “Professor, what–?”

“Hush,” he cut you off, bringing you to the bed. “Sit here,” he said, lowering you down.

He pulled up a chair, sitting across from you before handing you a handkerchief. You took it greedily and began wiping your face. You sighed deeply into the fabric, holding your head in your hands as you adjusted.

“Okay,” he said, smiling. “Now that's done…the substance you've just inhaled is an aphrodisiac of my own design.”

You stilled entirely, looking up at him tentatively as your eyes widened. You blinked, shaking your head as you tried to organize your thoughts. It was an… an—“Aphrodisiac…” you muttered.

“Yes,” he nodded. “Aphrodisiac.”

You were suddenly dizzy, processing his words too slowly as you put together what this meant. An experiment with an aphrodisiac… and you were the “face” of it all?

“The word itself comes from the Greek name ‘Aphrodite’, which—I'm sure you know—is the Greek goddess of Sex.” You looked up at him as he began explaining, rolling up the sleeves of his white button down and dusting off his black slacks. Adjusting his glasses on his nose, he continued, “As far as the function of the substance is concerned, it affects hormone levels and accelerates blood flood, increasing chemicals in your brain like—dopamine, glutamic acid, nitric oxide, oxytocin to enhance sexual arousal.” He sounded like he was reading straight out of a book as he spoke with his hands, illustrating the drug to you to paint pretty pictures for you to apply to what was happening to you, in your own body.

It was getting warm, the physical exertion from the adrenaline, likely. The suspense and anxiety from before, along with the shock of Dr. Crane's mist had thrust you into an adrenaline rush. That was surely all it was.

“It relaxes smooth muscles,” he continued. “Stimulates erections, increases arousal.”

You fought the urge to clench your thighs at the idea of it. He was your psych professor and you were his student, and he was testing aphrodisiacs on you and telling you how it made boners and stiff nipples and fucking arousal.

“Professor,” you muttered.

He stopped you, raising a finger. “Please hold. I'm not finished.” He cleared his throat and thought for a moment. “Where was I? Aphrodisiacs are commonly found in natural foods or herbs, though the change in sexual desire is usually unnoticed when these substances—like chocolates, most commonly, or oysters and figs and strawberries—are consumed.”

You clenched the handkerchief in your hand, rubbing your palms against your thighs roughly. “Professor Crane.” You felt like your head was beginning to spin.

He sighed at you, seemingly disappointed. “I hope you're interrupting me for a good reason.”

You stared at him straight on, nearly glaring as a thin layer of sweat began to form over your skin. “It's hot,” you huffed.

“Well, that's to be expected,” he shrugged. He looked you up and down, smiling with a gentle chuckle. “How rude of me. How are you feeling?”

You brought the handkerchief to your forehead, breathing uneasily. “Hot.”

“As you've already stated.” He waved his hand dismissively. “What else?”

You didn't want to say: considering the heat was spreading through your body and scouring your nerves with a flush of lust. The last thing you wanted to do was explain that you were horny to your professor.

He tilted his head at your hesitation, noticing the way you turned away, closed yourself off. He raised a brow. “Come on,” he bid. He didn't sound like he was encouraging you, he sounded like he was taunting you. “Don't leave any details. This is an experiment, might I remind you. If you leave anything out, it could hinder the research.”

“Um,” you struggled, your voice trembling a little. You felt like your whole body would soon follow suit. You felt shaky, like you’d fall if you tried to stand. “Uh.” You couldn’t figure out what to say—it was humiliating to say the least, looking at your professor and forcing your eyes to stay on his face, because fuck…you wanted him so bad.

He raised a brow, waiting expectantly, “Well?”

You couldn’t. “I don’t know,” you muttered. “It’s just hot.”

He reached his hand out and pressed the back of his palm to your forehead. The coolness of his skin against the heat of your face was like a salve to a cruel burn. You leaned into him, stifling your moan as best you could as your eyes fluttered at the contact. It felt so good.

“Mm,” he hummed, pretending not to notice your weakness as he shifted his hand to your temple. “You’re burning up.” You knew he was taunting you when his hand slipped down to your neck, pressing against your scorching skin and sending goosebumps through your body. Your heart felt like it would leap out of your chest any time soon.

When he pulled his hand away, you felt like you could die on the spot as the fever-like heat came back immediately after. You tried to remain impartial, shaking your head to gather your thoughts enough to speak.

“Why couldn’t you have just performed the experiment on your own?” you questioned, wiping your forehead roughly to be rid of the light sheen of sweat coating your skin. “I don’t see how an external test subject was necessary.” Remaining as professional as possible seemed like your best course of action. Insanity or not, this was still a test—you were sure of it—and there was no way you would fail a personal test with Professor Crane and risk falling from such high esteem with him.

He reached behind him where his suit jacket lay neatly on the back of his seat. He removed a second handkerchief from an inside pocket with a dramatic whip, taking his glasses off to clean them as he shook his head. “No, no, no,” he said. “If my theory is correct, the test must be performed with another person present. The substance works by increasing adrenaline. It’s quite similar to my fear toxin.”

You shook your head, “Fear toxin–”

“The adrenaline builds and builds,” he continued, cutting you off with little regard for you, as he glanced through the lenses, “increases the heart rate so much that—if left unresolved—the subject would experience a heart rate so high…” He finished polishing them off before replacing his glasses on the bridge of his nose and directing his analytical gaze toward you once more. With a lurking smile full of sadistic amusement, he spoke in a low voice, “...your little heart would burst in your chest.”

The anxiety curled in your chest until it began its fast evolution to fear. All these emotions mixing within you wasn’t good for your health—and, apparently, neither was this toxin he had infected you with. “...What?” you said. It was the only thing you could manage to say.

He shrugged, tilting his head with a slight roll of his eyes. “Well,” he began to correct himself, “not literally, of course. It’s highly improbable. But your heart would just…stop.” His eyes seemed to darken as he explained it to you, staring too deeply into your own anxious gaze as he seemed to enjoy every minute of this. With a breath, he began again. “And while my toxin has an antidote, there is only one way to reverse the effects of this aphrodisiac.”

You swallowed thickly. “Which is?”

He smirked, though he tried to hide it. “Sexual gratification.”

If you weren’t burning up, your blood would run cold…and then you’d run just as hot as you were running now. Your head was definitely spinning now, images of forbidden desires��which you had pushed down, down to the depths of your mind—flooding to the surface. So many fantasies, so many urges, being unlocked once more as you thought about…reversing the effects.

But, for the millionth time,  he was your professor. It didn’t matter how many times you’d fantasized about him having you on your knees, his hands in your hair, his lips all over your body…it couldn’t happen. It shouldn’t happen.

You tried not to clear your throat. It would make you more guilty than you already were. “W-well–” Damn it, you cringed. “–even if that’s true…gratification can be…achieved through…”

He raised a brow, happy to mock you. “Through?”

You took in a steadying breath, looking down at your legs to avoid looking up at him. Your skin was burning, your nerves were tingling with an increasing desire “Through self-pleasure. Masturbation. Couldn’t it?” You were already this far, there was no use in being shy.

But even then…

He tilted his head, sighing. “Unfortunately, no,” he said. “You see, once it has been ingested in any form, only another person's hormones can slow the process—which is why you’re still so in control right now–” you didn’t feel in control, “–but even that isn’t enough. In males, sexual gratification can only be achieved by the release of semen when mixed with a woman’s arousal. Likewise, for a female subject, gratification can only be met through insemination.”

He said it so quickly, so nonchalantly. You had no time to process as you blinked rapidly. “Insem–”

“Therefore, a partner is necessary for the experiment, and only a partner of the opposite sex is truly effective, so…I suppose that’s a loss for the homosexuals, hm?” He shrugged, amused by his own joke.

Pain spasmed in your stomach, a sharp stab in your gut and a stinging sensitivity to everything your skin came in contact with. “Fuck,” you sighed, folding over slightly just as a growing migraine became present enough to matter.

He sighed. “Language, please.”

You rubbed your palms harshly against your eyes, forcing your fingertips against your temple in a useless attempt to ease the pain roaring in your head, sacrificing the stabbing in your gut. “It hurts.” It took everything not to sob.

He turned his head. “What kind of pain?”

“All of the above,” you said impatiently, your voice breaking. “It hurts.”

He hummed and leaned forward. “And where does it hurt the most?” He gestured to your general body. “Or is it just about the same everywhere?”

“It's…” you hesitated, “everywhere.”

Crane tilted his head, looking at you with a glow of disappointment. He removed his glasses with a sigh, setting them to the side and directing his attention entirely on you.

“Now, my dear,” you shuddered at the name, “This doesn't work if you aren't being completely and entirely honest with me. I am quite content to sit here and watch you succumb to my little toxin.” A wash of shock overtook you, your palpitating conflicted between beating too fast and stopping all together.

He continued, a taunting grin curving his lips as he gave you his cold stare. “Without me to help you,” he shrugged, “you have no way of reversing the effects. I'll say you came down with a sudden fever, one you just couldn't fight.”

The hair along your arms stood tall. He couldn't be serious, it was a joke… But when have you known Jonathan Crane to joke?

“But…” you fumbled, trying to decide what to say, “But I've been perfectly healthy. Why would people believe you?”

He tilted his head, looking at you like you were just the cutest, dumbest little thing. “This is Gotham, sweetheart.” He shrugged dismissively. “People die every day, and no one fucking cares.”

Breathing heavily, you put a hand over your stomach and let out a pained moan. You thought to yourself, over his words. You shook your head, not meeting his eyes.

“Cramps.”

He raised a brow questioningly. “Hm?”

“The pain,” you stated. “Stomach cramps, tender nipples and…and clitoris. Even the fabric of my clothes is too much. It hurts.” You ignored the heat in your face. It didn't matter now—the insecurity, the awkwardness. It was strictly scientific. Of course, it was.

“Very good,” he grinned, leaning back and crossing his legs. “Tell me more.”

“Tunnel vision, dizziness, migraine, short breath. It's like… it's almost like a panic attack.”

“Is that all?”

“It's really hot,” you huffed, another pained moan escaping through your unsteady breaths. “I'm really hot.” It didn't matter. “Fuck, professor, I need you.”

“What's that?” The fucker was getting off on teasing you like this, mocking you like it was his only pleasure in life.

“I need you,” you urged, trying not to sound as whiny as you feel.

“Is that so?” he raised a brow, smirking. “Have you told me everything then?”

“Yes, everything. Please.”

“Are you certain?” he pushed.

You felt the wet on your cheek and realized your need and the pain had reached your eyes, the tears welling along your waterline and dropping down in one streak down your face. “Please, I'll do anything!”

He paused slightly. “What's that?”

You reached out and grabbed his hands, pulling them into your lap. There was only one way to ease the pain, the heat, the desire. And you were set on it.

“I'll do anything! Just please, fuck me. Please,” you gasped, pushing through the pounding in your head and the fire in your core.

“Well,” he sighed, pulling his hand from your grasp to check his watch. He tsked to himself, thinking before he hummed. “I suppose I can do that.”

You could have cried—you were crying. “Thank you,” you sighed. “Thank you.”

“But,” he pointed a finger at your face, as though you were a dog being disciplined, “you must do as I say.”

You nodded urgently. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” You shuddered at his words, the praise washing over you like a wave swallowing you whole as you lay on the sandy shore of a beach.

He snapped at you, indefinitely grabbing your attention as he pointed to the space in front of him. You stood from the bed in a moment, your weak legs barely holding you up.

His hands landed on your waist, and you nearly melted at the contact. He turned you around in his hands, looking you up and down with an appreciative moan. “Let's see what we're working with,” he said. “Strip.” The order was plain and simple.

You did as you were told, trying not to be shy about it. He didn't care about shyness, and it didn't matter anyway.

You began peeling your clothes off, moving faster with each inch of skin revealed. Once you were bare in front of him, you fought the overwhelming urge to cover yourself. He wanted to see you, to see what you had to offer.

He hummed to himself, snapping again. “On your knees.” Again, you did as you were told.

Moving to your knees, he took your face in his large hands. You melted against him, your eyes fluttering shut as a deep moan escaped you. His hands felt so cool in comparison to your burning skin. If you weren't so desperate for more of what he had to offer, you would be perfectly content with sitting here and having him hold you like this.

When his hands lightly smacked your cheeks, your eyes snapped open as you brought yourself out of the sticky feeling of the subtle pleasure. “Keep your eyes open. And open your mouth.”

You parted your lips, and he slipped his thumb between them and pried your mouth open wide. He set his thumb on your tongue, pulling it over your bottom set of teeth and pushing his thumb farther into your mouth. Your breaths blew over his skin as he felt the softness of your cheeks, your tongue.

He surprised you when his hand was suddenly between your thighs, his fingers stroking through your folds as you gasped. “Jesus, you're fucking dripping.” He ran his fingers along your lower lips and the insides of your thighs where the arousal was smothered halfway down your thighs.

You whimpered and whined when he shoved his middle and ring fingers inside of you without warning, delving them into your hot, dripping, tight pussy. You tried not to squirm at the way his fingers wiggled inside you.

“Yes,” he sighed. “This'll do nicely.”

He pulled them out of you, shoving those same fingers between your lips to make you taste your arousal. “Suck,” he commanded. You obeyed.

You suckled around his fingers and felt another rush of molten arousal wash through you at the way he stares at you, his eyes dark and primal. You needed him.

“Strip me,” he said, pulling his hand away. From your knees, you unbuttoned his shirt and removed it, letting your hands press against the expanse of his chest and soothe you the slightest bit. You unbuckled his best and shoved his pants down his legs, removed it from his body like undoing ropes tying him to a chair.

You stared at his briefs, his half-hard erection tenting them as he enjoyed the sight of your mindless struggling. He placed a hand in your hair, gripping a fistful and holding you securely. “Now be a good girl and suck my cock.”

You pulled his boxers down without hesitation and only faltered as you saw him for the first time. This was absurd. You never thought you'd find yourself in this situation—staring at your professor’s erection, long and hard and flushed with his own lust for your body, about to wrap your lips around it.

You gripped him in your hand and he stifled a grunt at the feeling of your insistence. You stroked him a few times before sticking your tongue out and licking a long strip up the underside of his cock, tasting his precum beading at the tip and immediately becoming addicted to the taste. Whether it was him or just his toxin, the taste of him was mesmerizing, and you would do anything for more.

You wrapped your lips around him, suckling around the tip and taking him deeper. He let his head fall back just a bit, still watching you as his thighs clenched and his hair gripped your hair tighter. He did not guide you or push you down, he didn't think he needed to. You surprised him as you bobbed your head up and down his cock, taking him farther and farther down with each trip back and forth until he was filling your throat with his length and making you gag.

He grunted as you suckled some more. Your cunt clenched around nothing, aching for any kind of pressure as your clit pulsed and your walls fluttered. You ran a hand down your body, dipping between your thighs to try and ease some of the tension. You pressed down hard on your clit one time, a moan coming from your throat and shivering through his spine.

He pulled you by your hair off of his cock. “Did I say you could touch yourself, sweetheart?” You shook your head pathetically. “Then why are you doing it?”

You couldn't win this, you knew that. Using your desperation as regret, you frowned and whispered, “Sorry, sir.”

He loosened his grip enough to let you get back to work, still holding onto you as he leaned back again. Your lips found his cock once more, addicted and able to ignore the burn for now, a short escape from the pain.

You swirled your tongue around him, suckling as you went along. Crane stared at you with a dark gaze as you sucked him off. You flattened your tongue against him, going farther down his length with each swallow around his tip. Sticky white precum continued to seep from his slit and onto your tongue. You were drunk on the taste of him, taking him as best you could.

Crane looked like a dream, his head tilted back and his lips parted as you brought him closer and closer to a great release. Both his hands were tangled in your hair by now, holding on to you and his remaining control.

He was right about the hormones. Being this close to him, inhaling the scent of his cologne, the scent of his skin swirling around your head, was easing the searing desperation.

You felt him twitching on your tongue and suckled around him a little more. He was close, you could feel it. You didn't know if it was his toxin or not, but the idea of him spilling all over your tongue drove you crazy with lust.

He began to tense and groaned. “And that's enough of that,” he huffed, pulling you off of him by your hair and keeping you back, even through your attempts at licking the precum spilling from his tip.

“My, my,” he breathed. “Such a desperate little thing.”

You caught your breath as you spoke, your lips swollen and your eyes hooded as you did. “I need you,” you begged, gripping his thighs tight.

“Well,” he stood, snapping and gesturing for you to stand as well—you obeyed. “You'll have to be patient, sweetheart. I'm not through with my tests yet.” You whined. “Lay down.”

You did as told once again. He looked over your body, running a finger down the center of you, from your collarbone to your pelvis. You shuddered and whimpered but said nothing.

“I don't have any cuffs in here, so a tie will have to work.” He found his jacket draped along the back of his chair and pulled the tie neatly tucked inside of it out.

You held your breath as he reached for your hands, grabbing your wrists and holding them above your head. He put them around the bars of the headboard and, with more skill than you expected, tied them together to keep you bound there.

He gave a content sigh at the sight of you, smiling to himself. His eyes found yours as his fingertips grazed your side “Now, you can be as loud as you want. No need to hold back. We're all alone in here.”

He stood over you as his palm smoothed along your skin, reaching further down until he found your mound, slick and hot and waiting for something to slip inside it.

Your breath quickened in anticipation, waiting for him to make his move as his fingers played with your skin. Holding eye contact, he slipped his finger inside of you, parting your folds and burying itself in deep.

Your head lolled back as you moaned, the sound sticky with lust. He sank in deep, inch by torturous inch. You held your breath in your, feeling each little bit disappear, knuckle by knuckle, inside.

A second finger joined the first, spreading you open for him. They thrust and curled inside you. You moaned and found yourself grinding your hips into his palm. You needed more, more of him, the bliss of his fingers spread through your body to ease the fire and feed it all at the same time.

“Professor,” you whimpered. “More, please.”

“Hm?” he taunted. “That's not enough for you? You need more?”

“Yes, please,” you gasped.

You clenched around his fingers, feeling him pumping his fingers in and out of you. He curled them against a sweet spot deep within your dripping cunt, exploring your body and becoming familiar with each little nook and cranny. Your back arched and your moans were loud in the space of the bedroom. You had never felt so good before, just by his hands alone.

When his speed increased, you thought you would cry. The dizziness was eased by his pleasure, the headache had waned enough for you to see, and the pain in your stomach had simmered to a dull ache. But his fingers stuffed inside only seemed to heighten the heavy pulse in her veins.

You pulled at the tie wrapped around your wrists as you whined. “Professor, please,” you huffed. “I can't take it. I—fuck—needa cum.”

Letting out what seemed to be a disinterested sigh, he shrugged. “Since you want it so bad…” His thumb pressed against your clit and your back arched slightly at the contact.

You cursed breathily, seeing stars as the pleasure grew and grew and grew at the expertise of his hand. You thought you were going to explode, reaching your peak far too quickly as a knot began to build in your stomach. You tensed, clenching around his fingers as he spread them and curled them and pumped them in and out of you.

“Fuck, can I cum?” you moaned. “Please, professor, I need it so bad.”

He didn’t answer you, rubbing your clit in tight, fast circles as he felt you flutter around his fingers, he listened to your unsteady breath and felt your trembling thighs. You could feel yourself reaching that point, on the verge of finding that bliss…

You whimpered meekly when he suddenly stopped. Watching you with a dark smile, he chuckled as you squirmed and tried to move your hips against his hand. A tear slipped down the side of your face as the pain returned, sharper this time and spreading through your body like you’d been shocked.

“Dr. Crane, please,” you cried, squirming like a worm on a hook.

He laughed at you, looking your body up and down as he disregarded your need and spoke. “How do you feel?” he asked.

Another tear joined the first. “Please, I can’t.”

He tutted, shaking his head. “Ah-ah. Answer my question or I’ll stop completely.”

“No!” you exclaimed. “Please, it hurts. So bad, everything hurts.”

He nodded, “Good girl.” He rewarded you with the movement of his hand once more, filling you back up with his fingers and thrusting them into you.

You were blinded by the pleasure and continued to ride it out, unknowingly that he was beginning a cycle. He would have you crying, breaking down in tears and so desperate to cum all over his hand, only to rob you of such pleasure every time you got close to tasting it. And it hurt. All of it hurt, like you were being burned alive. The imaginary flames licked at your flesh and threatened to sear it off your bones.

You didn’t know how many times he’d done this cruel act upon you, how long you’d been laying there with your legs spread open wide and his fingers shoved inside of you, too caught up in the pain and the ecstasy of it all. “C-Crane,” you muttered, your lips and your tongue lazy with dissatisfaction. “Please.”

You could tell how fun this experiment was for him, and not even in just the sadistic way. He watched you closely, his eyes hooded and dark and his cheeks pink. His cock was still hard, maybe harder still in a painful way that your useless sounds helped him to ignore.

He hummed deeply, considering another dance with desperation. But he let out a deep sigh and shrugged. “I suppose,” he said, his thumb, which had been lazily rubbing too-slow circles on your clit, picking up once again.

And you were so scared it was a trick, that he would pull away and leave you to sob again at the loss of stimulation. The knot built, the dam overflowed, and as you reached your breaking point, you gasped when it all came loose. Your back arched, and you went blind as the pleasure crashed down on you like nothing you’d ever felt.

You cried out his name—or some garbled version of his name that came with not being in touch with your own body. You moaned, breathing too fast and dizzying yourself with your harsh breaths as you did. Crane smiled as he watched you, coaxing you through it as he noted just how good this orgasm must have felt for you.

“Look at you go,” he smiled, still rubbing your clit as he watched the last spasms of pleasure shoot through you. You were so pretty like this, writhing in bed as you came on his hand for the first time, whimpering and whining like a dog.

He pulled his hand from you, darting his tongue to lick the bottom lip of his wolfish grin.

As you began to settle, you let in a deep breath to fill your lungs, laying back lazily as you were offered a moment of stillness. All the pain from before was gone, the thumping in your heart calmed to a slightly quickened ut otherwise rhythmic beat. You could breathe.

Crane was staring at his watch, looking between you and it as he seemed to time something. You paid him little mind, soaking up the calm for as long as you had it.

It was all too soon that the pain began to slip back in, first as a distant sting in your head, then as the dull ache in your stomach. As your breath sped again at the slowly increasing ache, so too did your heart once more. Then the sensitivity of your skin, the burn of your goosebumps rubbing against the sheets or clashing cruelty with the air.

Unable to take so much, you began to cry. “Professor,” you spoke shakily. “Fuck, it hurts. It fucking hurts so bad. I can't—I can't, I can't.”

“Two minutes and seventeen seconds,” he stamped. “It took two minutes for the aphrodisiac to kick in again after the first orgasm has been reached.”

He stared at you, rubbing his bottom lip and sighing with a distant smile. “Oh, the things I want to do to you,” he mumbled. “To make you cum over and over and over again until you're,” he sighed longingly, his eyes fluttering and his jaw clenching with an urge he tried to conceal, “sobbing, trembling in my hands, begging me to stop.”

You shuddered, wanting it so badly but also dreading the opposite of this torture, where you would never stop shaking, never be able to calm as he pulled an orgasm after you one right after the other.

He shook himself out of his daydream. “But, I'm not sure how long you've got. That's an experiment for another day.”

You wanted to say something, but you were at your point in desperation where words were harder and harder to form unless the adrenaline really kicked in.

He positioned himself on the bed, his hand smoothing over your sides. “I bet you need me now, don't you?” Whining pathetically and not caring anymore about sounding decent, you nodded. “Yes, you do. You need me to fuck you, hhh? Take you nice and rough from behind. You need me to fuck you nice and deep, little slut?”

You nodded again, crying, “Please.”

He stood on his knees in front of you, taking your body in his hands and flipping you around, not caring for a moment that you were still tied to the bed frame with your arms now crossed.

He pulled you up on your knees and put your ass on display for him. His hands slapped down on your ass, rubbing harshly on the skin as you whined.

“Be a good girl and beg me to fuck you, sweetheart,” he breathed.

Had you not begged enough? You couldn't count the amount of times you'd told him “Please, professor, please,” and been denied for the sake of his sadism?

Still, you were desperate and you could care less at the moment about his urge to humiliate you. So you did beg, your pounding heart squeezing tears out of your eyes.

“Please, Crane,” you sobbed. “Please, I need you so fucking bad. It hurts, please.”

You were about to continue pouring your heart out when he cut you off. “Okay, okay,” he chuckled. “Calm down. It's not that serious.”

He took his cock in his hand, stroking himself a couple times as he spread your folds for him. In one push, he buried himself to the hilt inside of your tight pussy. He groaned roughly as you clenched around his cock and moaned.

“So fucking tight,” he sighed. “You've been needing this, haven't you?”

You moaned deep in your throat, melting at the feeling of him buried so deep. He chuckled, high off the sight of you so weak. He pulled out of you, an agonizingly slow drag that burned at your nerves until he suddenly thrust back in with a harsh thrust. You lost your breath, your lungs squeezed tight at the pleasure.

He grunted, doing it again and again and again as he just kept holding you tighter, pulling you back to meet each thrust. The smack of his hips against your ass was loud and followed in quick succession as he gave you no time between each thrust to recover.

You felt like your brain had melted, reduced to. a pile of mush in your head as you let yourself be devoured by the pure ecstasy of each thrust staving off the pain of the toxin burning you out.

You gripped the sheets, clenching and unclenching and trying so hard to keep it together as he split you open on his cock.

Crane was hardly keeping it together himself, gripping your waist as he fucked into you from behind. His hair had fallen over his eyes, which were dark and crazed. He had you in his clutches—you, his prey and he, your predator, his teeth and claws in your flesh and bone.

“Is this everything you imagined?” he huffed, bringing a hand to wrap around your throat and pull you up.

You clenched tighter around him and felt your limbs going weak—if he hadn't been holding you up, you would have fallen against the bed again.

“W-What?” you gasped, small and pathetic.

He laughed darkly. “You think I didn't know? What, you thought I couldn't see the way you stared at me during my lectures? You thought I didn't see your glances at my crotch, wondering how big my cock was? Huh? How good it would feel if I fucked you?”

You just kept moaning, unable to hold in your pleasures sobs. He fucked you a little harder, pulling more and more out of you as he did. “Why do you think I chose you, huh?” he taunted, laughing again. “You were perfect for the role. My cock hungry student who would do anything to impress me. Fuck, you were practically begging to be the subject of this experiment.”

It was hard to listen to him when you could barely focus on your own pleasure. Your arousal was dripping down your thighs, coating you in slick. He just kept fucking you, drunk on the pleasure.

“N-Need,” you stuttered, trying to form the words as your tongue was not your own. “Mm-fuck, needa cum.”

He didn't say anything this time as he pressed his finger to your clit. You went limb, letting yourself fall onto the bed as you whined pathetically.

“Look at you,” he smiled, his head tilted back as he relished in the squeeze of your cunt. “My little fucking whore. Does it feel good?” He laughed again, rubbing your clit a little faster. “Are you gonna cum on my cock like a pathetic slut? Hm?”

To answer his question, you did. You let out a choked cry when you came, your eyes rolling back as you went blind with the pleasure that crashed down on you. Your whole body shattered, and your thighs shook at the pleasure.

“Oh, fuck,” he huffed as you began tighter, your pussy fluttering around him and only bringing him closer to his own longed-for release. “That's a good fucking girl.”

Your head was filled with white-noise as you floated in that space between orgasms, where your whole body was numb to everything else going on. As he kept fucking you, it didn't last long. You came to and found yourself thrown into another dance of lust.

You chased the pleasure, pleading for it to swallow you whole as you took all that he gave to you. “You like that? You like being ruined by me? Hm?” he breathed, still rubbing your clit, even as you squirm.

You didn't respond, overcome by whining moans. But that was more amusing. “I know you do,” he said. “You liked being fucked dumb, don't you?”

His hips continued to snap into yours, shoving deeper and rougher. His finger on your clit continued to build you up, higher and higher.

“Are you gonna cum again?” he asked, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he kept fucking into you. “Yeah? You're squeezing my cock like you are.”

You managed to nod your head and nothing more, the knot building again in your stomach getting so tight, so close to another blinding release. You braced for it as it grew closer.

“Fuck, I'm gonna cum, too,” he breathed. “Gonna cum—so deep inside you. You'll be dripping with me, sweetheart.”

You mewled, closer and closer to–

A loud cry tore from your throat as you came again, blinded and devoured and reduced to nothing but a sobbing mess as the pleasure shook through your body like a rattle.

Unable to hold himself in anymore, he moaned roughly as he spilled so deep inside of you. He gripped you roughly, pulling you back against his cock as he buried himself deep, grinding into you as he fucked his cum inside so you were stuffed with it.

“Fuck, I love this tight little cunt,” he huffed. “Perfect for me.” Your pussy fluttered around him, squeezing him tight as you squelched and gushed around him.

You lay limp against the sheets as the blood roared in your ears. After a moment, when he'd caught his breath and came down from his high, he pulled out of you and let you fall against the bed.

He breathed, letting out a deep sigh. He looked down at you, your spent body still shaking with the aftershocks of pleasure. He picked up your leg, pulling it apart to see your pussy, stuffed and leaking his cum.

He could have cum again at the mere sight of you, your messiness, your exhaustion. He dropped your leg and sat next to your limp body.

“Now,” he said, another breath leaving his lungs. “How do you feel?”

You just lay there, letting out a tiny moan after a while as your only response as you tried to recover. All the pain had disappeared, and all that was left was the heaviness in your limbs and the sore muscles to come.

He hummed a laugh. “I bet.” He reached for his glasses, putting them on the bridge of his nose once more and adjusting them.

He stood, walking somewhere in the room as your eyes followed him. When he picked up a camera hidden in the corner capturing everything that just happened, you couldn't do anything but think about how you wanted to watch it back and see just how much he'd wrecked your body.

He stopped the recording, setting the camera down with a smile. He looked at you again, kneeling in front of the bed as he rested his chin on his hands. “So many things for us to do, so many experiments to run. And now I've got you,” he chuckled, “my own personal lab rat.”

You watched him lazily, the exhaustion pulling at your system. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. You sighed into the kiss, moving as much as you could as your lips melded together. It breathed life into you, more life than it should have.

He pulled away all too soon, standing up and turning away from you as he left the room. You laid there a moment longer, thinking back over the events of the night. His own personal lab rat.

You smiled.

Cillian Murphy taglist: @lyarr24​ @runnning-outof-time​ @goblinjnr @kmc1989 @shelbyism @weepingwitchofthewest @cl-0-vr @thoticious @sinarainbows @the-nerdy-goddess @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bernelflo @dragonslayersupremacy @alurafairy @pietroxreader @darkcastle167 @neonpurplestars89-blog Tag yourself here...

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader smut #dc scarecrow #batman begins #jonathan crane fanfic #jonathan crane fanfiction #batman begins fanfic #fanfic #fanficiton #reader insert #female reader #10 days of smutmas

[killzenin]

💭I ONLY HAVE ONE THING ON MY SILLY BRAIN AT THE MOMENT...AND IT'S TOJI AS A MILITARY SUPERIOR ! !

📍cock warming, secret sex, unprotected sex, pussy teasing/playing with it, clit slapping, filthy talk, 'sir' kink, implied age gap.

where you both meet after being selected to be part of an underground and elite task force deployed by the united nations. with the sole objective of monitoring and taking down a global criminal ring that imposes a bioterrorist threat in the form of a new drug. a well-rounded and respected captain toji fushiguro of JSDF (japan's military defense) became the superior in charge of your squad unit.

and ever since the two of you crossed paths in australia, the primary base of your units deployment, he hasn't kept his eyes to himself. always keeping tabs on you while the squad is out in surveillance on suspected grounds. subtly asking squad members you've grown close with of your likes and dislikes.

once he has full knowledge of them, he's ordering to place supplies of your favorite food and discard whatever you hate. he ensures that you have the best tactical gear out of all of his subordinates. and saving the best, most modern artillery for you to play around with.

it's no secret toji has a cold and stoic persona, so he really never outwardly showed his interest. plus, he was your superior, and you were all in an important task. it would be wrong of him to take advantage of his position, experience, and age to hinder the mission altogether.

nevertheless, he is a risk taker, danger thrilled him, it set his soul ablaze. he wouldn't join the military for nothing. that is why he aimed the perfect shot at the perfect target. you.

and as always, he hit straight on the bullseye. oh, what a joy it was for him to have his feelings reciprocated that night you both were at a club undercover. the way that you pulled him by his waist belt and kissed his neck left him speechless. of course, at that time, your cover was almost blown over. anything to keep it intact was a must, with whichever means necessary.

toji, however, was not going to let this once in a lifetime opportunity slide. forcing you away from his body only to dive in and press his enthusiastic lips to yours. the way your lips felt on his made him almost lose any sense of self he had. and whichever sense he had left that was hanging by a thread, was cut loose as soon as you told him to kiss you more.

and he did and kept going. and hasn't stopped kissing you, even now as his thick cock was buried comfortably inside your spasming pussy. he pressed along wet kisses at the sides of your neck while he thought on an email response to his own superior.

"princess, what do you think is an appropriate response to: stop being a fucking annoying dick and let me do my job how i see fit?"

"you fucking jerk toji, fuck me now before somebody comes in!"

"nah, he would kill me if i asked him to fuck me, he has a wife you know." his dismissal to your pleading made you furious. and the lack of respect you were giving him ticked him off.

"and am i a jerk now huh?" his rough fingertips swiftly smacked your puffed out clit, "the fuck you mean jerk?" another slap came in your way, sending pleasuring shocks through out your body.

"do you want me to get meaner? and why should i fuck you, mmm? you were the one coming into my office like a needy little bitch in heat, begging to sit on my dick. and...toji?"

slap! "where the fuck is your sense of respect?" you shiver once more, leaning your back on his chest and clenching around his fat length, making him moan in excitement, "ya lil brat! you love to be put on your place, hmm?"

"s-sir, please, please, ah- i'm sorry sir. i just- i just really want you~" you squeezed your pussy more, hoping he would lose it. and due to the fact that he was massaging your clit. you could feel him twitch inside you. you really needed him to ram his cock and fill you to the brim of his hot cum. you craved him too much.

"toji~ sir, please, dump all your cum in me pleaseee~ fucking fill me up with your cock sir~ use me!" your moaning mess and your dripping pussy was making him oblige.

"all right sweet girl, be quiet f'r me, okay...bend over the desk and let me see that pretty cunt of yours." you stood up, and toji slid his dick out. making a 'pop' sound resonate his office once he was out of you.

he admired the ring of built mixed juices at his dicks base. but his full attention shifted and began to admire your leaking pussy lips on full display. you fingers spread your lips apart. toji almost laughed while observing your cunt grasping the air, aching to hold on to something and be filled once more.

"i'll never get enough of this cute pussy." he purrs, teasing it around with his cock head. then tapping your agape hole a few times before finally pushing in. "all fucking mine."

`⌁ ◜remember, this is fiction, i have no idea how the military works at all and probably never will lmao. if an irl friend of mine sees this, then they'll know why. all i know is that a gun goes pew pew, so most of this scenario is incredibly unacurate in that aspect :p. inspired by and a special thank you to my one and only, my baby daddy, köning 🤭// i have other works published and more is on the way ! go check them out ! !◞

#anime x reader #jjk smut #jjk thirsts #jjk x y/n #had to do a little research on terminologies for this one :/ #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #anime x y/n #anime x you #toji x self insert #toji smut #toji zenin #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x y/n #jjk toji #toji x you #toji x female reader #female reader #dilf toji #daddy toji #fushiguro toji smut #toji thirst #toji drabbles #anime drabble #anime smut

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

The Babysitter (1)

Meeting The Maximoffs

Wanda Maximoff X Reader

Summary: In need of money and a way to escape the problems at home, you get a job babysitting two lovely boys named Billy and Tommy Maximoff. What happens when you start to feel things you shouldn't for their mother? Will it bloom into love or leave you heartbroken?

The Babysitter Master list | General Master List

A/N- I would just like to say that there will be some sensitive issues in this story such as alcoholism, homophobia, anxiety as well as more mature content such as smut so, if you continue to read this, please consider this warning.

Meeting The Maximoffs

The sound of the bell rang around the room, Professor Stark in front of the first row, reminding everyone in the class to have completed the assignment by Monday before returning to his desk, fingers moving to type away at his keyboard, presumably writing an email about the assignment as people were flooding out of the door, his words falling on deaf ears. You made a mental note to complete the task before grabbing your backpack from the ground, quickly placing all your books and notes away before hurriedly leaving the room and the college campus.

The sound of directions filled your earphones as you looked down at your phone, the screen displaying a map with a blue line to lead you towards your destination of the house you were going to be babysitting at. Your gaze flickered between the screen and your surroundings as you stepped off the bus after thanking the driver, your mouth parting when you turned the corner your phone told you to. The street of houses here had you looking at them in awe, the area clearly wealthy judging by the houses that you felt should be referred to more as mansions.

Your feet carried you to the intended house, your hands nervously putting your phone away and fixing your outfit a little before ringing the bell of the large house. While waiting for someone to answer, your fingers fidgeted with one another as you were unsure of what to do.

Soon, the door swung open to reveal a tall blonde man with striking blue eyes dressed in professional attire, a soft smile that was definitely not genuine covering his face as he offered his hand out to you.

"You must be Y/n," you took his hand, shaking it briefly and trying not to grimace at his firm grip while nodding at his words.

"Yes, that's me sir," you say, noticing how he appreciated the formality, "You must be Mr Jarvis?" He nodded his head and moved to let you into the house, you follow behind him while your eyes scanned the hallway.

A smile took over your face at the sight of a photo of two young boys, both grinning ear to ear in the photo as they were dressed up in Halloween costumes, one in a sky-blue jumper with silver lightning bolts running across it, the other in a navy jumper and red cape flowing behind him. Your eyes flickered over to another photo this time of the two boys and a woman but before you could look any more at it you heard your name being called from another room.

"So," Mr Jarvis started, "I'm not sure how much you have discussed with my wife over the phone, so I'm going to cut to the chase and make sure we're both happy with everything." You sat opposite the man, listening attentively to what he was saying, a little shocked by his forwardness though. "You are to look after the twins, make sure they do any schoolwork, keep them entertained and feed them," the way he was speaking made you think it was something rehearsed, something he didn't actually care about but had to make sure was done, "Be in bed by nine if neither of us are home and that's pretty much it. It will most likely be Monday to Friday as my wife and I both work, and you will need to be on time as my work only lets me out to pick the boys up from school to bring them home. We'll pay you in cash afterwards."

"What time will I need to be here for you to go back to work?" you ask, praying that it fits with your class schedule.

"By four at the latest," he looks down at his watch, noting the time and standing to grab his suit jacket that was draped over the sofa. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work," your eyes widen at his words and follow after him.

"Wait, I'm starting now?" you practically blurt out, your nerves doubling every second he continues to get ready to leave the house.

"Yes," he answers shortly before walking to the bottom of the stairs and calling the twins down, "Tommy, Billy, come down here." The sounds of feet running down the stairs fill your ears as you see the two boys from the photo come into sight. "This is Y/n, your new babysitter so listen to her and behave," he ruffles both of their hair, one of them seeming to not like the action, before turning back to you. "Any issues, call or message Wanda," with that said he makes his way out of the house, the sound of the door shutting echoing inside your head.

At least you were good with kids... right?

With a nervous expression, you look at the boys who have smiles on their faces, pure excitement emitting from one of them, the other clearly more timid than his brother. You crouch down and give him a comforting smile, tilting your head to the side as you smile at the other.

"I'm Y/n," you offer the more confident brother your hand, his smaller one taking a hold of yours and shaking it a little too enthusiastically making you laugh.

"I'm Tommy," he says, teeth showing as he seems to like the idea of having a new babysitter. "This is my brother Billy," you give a soft smile to Billy who gives a small one back.

"Well, how about we have some fun now we've got the house to ourselves," your tone is playful, both of their eyes lighting up at your words.

"Can we be ninjas?" Tommy rushes out, your eyes widening once again. His brother laughs at your shocked and equally confused reaction.

"I..uh.. Sure, we can be ninjas if we want to," you chuckle out, "But after we play, we have to do our schoolwork." They both groan a little, but you raise your eyebrows at them, making them giggle at the fake serious look you were giving them.

An hour ago, if someone told you that you were about to play ninjas with two nine-year-olds you would have simply laughed in their face, now look at you. "Do you want to be a ninja too Billy? Or do you want to be someone else?" His face lights up at your question, your heart melting a little at his shyer nature.

"I can be something else?" He looks to his brother who is already doing karate moves in the air, your gaze following his and mouth tugging up into a smile. You nod at him and wait for him to think of something he wants to be. "Can I be an astronaut?"

"Of course you can," your tone is cheery, and you stand upright, mirroring the position Tommy was in. "So, we have a ninja and an astronaut, what's the first plan of action for tonight?"

"We have to sneak into the living room and defeat the bad guys!" Tommy exclaims, taking his role seriously and crouching down, slowly creeping towards the room. You copy him, watching as Billy also mirrors the action, and gradually make your way into the living room. You have to hold back your laughter when Tommy and Billy both check the corners of the other doors in the house before they leap into the living room. Billy doesn't fight as many bad guys as Tommy, the latter slicing his palm through the air and punching imaginary figures. "We did it!" he cheers, face beaming up at you as he goes to high five you.

"We did," Tommy looks proud of himself while you turn to his brother, "Now, I think it's time for a mini trip to space for our little astronaut over here."

Moving to the middle of the room, the boys either side of you, you bring your hand up to your mouth in the shape of a radio. "Pshhht, this is your captain speaking," chuckles fill the room with the voice you put on as well as the awful static noises you try to make. "Are we Psshhhht," another set of laughter, "Are we ready for take-off?"

"This is astronaut Billy saying he's ready," he says, eyes full of joy while he looks up at you. Tommy also says he's ready and you put your captain's voice again.

"Taking off in 10...9...8...7," the twins joining in with the countdown.

"6...5...4...3...2...1!" At the end of the countdown, you lift Billy off the ground, swaying your body around with him earning a squeal of surprise and excitement. You place him down after a little more flying through space, his brother pretending to steer the spaceship.

"And that concludes our space mission," they both pout a little, trying to make you guilty for ending the fun so soon.

"But we never flew back to earth," Tommy counters, you just shaking your head at them.

"If we all do our schoolwork then maybe we can fly to another planet then back to earth," you reason, the twins practically sprinting to go and get their homework. You sit with them at the table, pulling out your own work to do while they start theirs.

You want to say many, many things about the work Mr Stark gave you to do but refrain from saying them due to two little people sitting near you. Your pen scribbles word after word for your assignment, your gaze occasionally flickering over to the others to make sure they are doing their work and understand it.

"Y/n?" you hear Tommy say, "Can you help me with my maths question?"

"Of course I can," you move your chair so it's next to his, your eyes searching the paper for the question. You notice he's doing fractions and wish your work was like these fraction questions instead of an entire essay on science theories. After a few minutes of explaining, a flash of realisation and understanding washes over his face while he tries another question on his own.

The sound of the door opening catches your attention, your eyes checking your watch to see that it's just gone half five. You wait at the table with the boys who haven't seemed to notice someone's home until she walks in.

Your mouth parts slightly at the sight of the woman, no, the goddess that just walked into the room. A smile that could brighten any room, mesmerising green eyes that practically enchant you and auburn locks cascading down her back with a few framing her face adorns her perfect figure, your mind lost for words at the beauty of this woman. The boys rush over to her, hugging her and letting her lean down to press a small kiss to their foreheads before turning all of her attention to you. The expectant look on her face suggests she asked you a question, making you flush at the intensity of her gaze.

"Uh... pardon?" you say, embarrassed from being too captivated by her to listen. She simply smiles at you, nose scrunching at your nervous state.

"I said 'You must be Y/n, the new babysitter," there's a slight teasing in her tone as she repeats, "It's lovely to finally meet you face to face."

"You too, Mrs Jarvis," you awkwardly say, Tommy and Billy going off to watch Tv as they claim to have finished their work.

"I actually go by Miss Maximoff," she corrects politely, "And no need for formalities, call me Wanda, dear." The way her words have a slight accent to them has your face flushing even more, especially at the term of endearment. "I hope they behaved for you," she says, her head looking over her shoulder at her boys sitting on the sofa, engrossed with the cartoon currently playing.

"They were perfect for me Miss Ma-" Her eyes look over at you, eyebrow raised, "Uh Wanda." Your flustered state must have amused her as she let out an angelic laugh, your mind desperately wishing to hear that sound again. Your gaze travelled to the twins, your mind replaying the surprisingly fun afternoon you had. Stuck in the memory, you don't notice the way Wanda looks at you, an undecipherable glint in her eyes before her words break you out of your thoughts.

"Well thank you for taking such good care of them and somehow managing to get them to do their work," she jokes out, before reaching into her purse to find some cash to pay you. She offers you £50 and your eyes widen at how much she's giving you.

"That's way too much Wanda," you say in disbelief, you would have been happy with £10 never mind fifty. "I only looked after them for two hours," she shakes her head at you dismissively and takes a hold of your hands, placing the money there. You're too busy trying not to panic at the feeling of her hands on yours to stop her from pulling away.

"I can already tell they love you, so please take it," her eyes hopeful that you won't try and refuse once again. "Consider it a starting bonus," she argues, and you open your mouth in protest but close it almost immediately after as you can't think of anything to say to make her change her mind.

"Thank you," you say, looking up with an extremely grateful expression, "This really means a lot to me." You see the questioning look in her eyes and avert your gaze to your watch to see the time. "Um, I'll be going now if that's ok?" you move to the table to pack your books away, trying your hardest to ignore the feeling of her eyes on you.

"Yes, that's fine dear," when you turn you see a soft expression on her face and silently thank her for not pressing any further. "Billy, Tommy, say goodbye to Y/n," she calls, and the boys come rushing towards you with wide eyes.

"But we still have to go to another planet," Billy says, Tommy nodding his head along to what his brother says.

"And we need to get back to earth," Tommy adds, your heart clenching at the worried expressions on their faces. You look over to Wanda who just has a confused but entertained expression on her face. You move closer to them, Wanda even more intrigued by what was happening.

"Pshhht this is your captain speaking," they giggle at the static noise again, Wanda letting out a chuckle at your fake voice, your cheeks flushing as you look back at her. "Mission to Mars will happen on Monday, Pshhhht and mission back to Earth will happen afterwards," the worry washes from both of them at the promise of continuing the game before they rush over to hug your legs.

"Goodbye Y/n," they both say, then walking back to the sofa as you pull your backpack on and walk towards the door with Wanda close behind.

"Thank you once again for taking such good care of them," her voice is gentle as she holds the door open for you.

"It was honestly no problem, Wanda," you step out of the house, turning back to her before leaving properly, "They're amazing kids, you should be really proud of them." A small tint of pink covers her cheeks at your words

"Get home safely Y/n," her fingers brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "I'll see you Monday."

You watch as she shuts the door, a smile on her face, and start to walk down the drive, whispering a small 'See you on Monday' to yourself as your mind fills with thoughts of a certain woman.

---

The journey begins...

I hope you enjoyed :)

Please leave any thoughts/comments/votes <3

Ao3- LoveIsAnImaginaryDagger

Wattpad- LovePersevering2

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #eventual smut #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x you #marvel fanfiction #babysitter au #slow burn #fluff #so much love #so much fun #wanda fluff #tommy maximoff #billy maximoff

[youandtom2]

Praise You Like I Should (CEO!Tom Holland) 18+

Summary: You were always a people-pleaser, desperate to do right by everybody no matter what they asked. Being an intern, your boss Jackson exploited your people-pleaser tendencies in a very unprofessional manner, and CEO Mr Holland wasn't happy about it... Themes: smut! little bit of fluff and angst, dom!tom and sub!reader, oral (m+f), major praise kink, sir kink, overstimulation, masturbation (alone) , slight jewelry kink w/c: 10k+

MASTERLIST

You look over the dimly lit hall before you, tables decorated to the nines with hand-folded serviettes, silver-ware suited for royalty, gleaming as they sit on a fresh white linen table cloth, surrounded by tall plum-coloured cushioned chairs. There’s about twelve tables dotted around the hall identical to one another, waiting to be filled by guests in about an hour or so. The room sparkles with the metallic colouring of birthday banners and balloons floating around the room, illuminated by the dancing, multicoloured disco lights. 

The surprise birthday party you were instructed to organise is for Mr Holland’s business partner, Taylor. They’re each other's yin and yang, mixing together like oil on water but somehow they make it work. The informal Taylor bases his relationship with his employees on friendship and a sense of mutual equality, where the formal Mr Holland prefers professionalism and respect on top of trust. Nevertheless, both are equally respected as bosses and businessmen in their own right. It doesn’t necessarily mean you all prefer one over the other, but if you had to make a choice as to who you would rather hang out with, the answer is an obvious one.

As an intern, it isn’t exactly part of your remit to organise and host birthday events, but your boss, Jackson, ordered you to do it. Jackson’s notable within the workforce for several reasons; he’s outgoing, social, ambitious, confident, and is unofficially Taylor’s kiss ass. He appointed himself (ahem, you) with the responsibility of organising Taylor’s surprise party, not because he thinks he’s capable, but because he’s looking for recognition. What people don’t know is that he’s actually a lazy guy who has gotten himself drunk with the taste of superiority, abusing you as his own personal slave for favours both big (entirely consequential and out of your depth) and small (worthless and petty). Unfortunate to be his first intern, you’ve realised how gluttonous he’s become with you at his disposal how and whenever he pleases. However, being placed at the bottom of the pecking order, you’re not at liberty to say no. 

Jackson’s not your favourite boss by any means, but by God he keeps you busy. It tooks weeks for you to organise the venue, the catering, the entertainment, the decorations, the invitations, most importantly the cake, and the little oddities that everyone forgets about like hand-written name tags and having straws at the bar. You’ve been working relentlessly and after weeks of stress, late and often sleepless nights, numerous phone calls and emails, cancellations and rebookings, tonight is the night that all of that can end. The curse of being a perfectionist and a people-pleaser can finally release its hold on you.

Just as you finish clarifying the itinerary with the hotel’s bar staff, you notice a dark figure walking through the entrance. Your eyes trail nervously from the black patent shoes to the white shirt peeking beneath the black suit of which belongs to Mr Holland. He has his tortoise shell glasses perched perfectly on his nose, reflecting the colours of the disco lights as he walks towards you, stoic and poised. A silent ‘fuck’ crosses your mind. 

Being the CEO eight floors above you, Mr Holland’s face isn’t one that you see as consistently as Jackson’s. He’s at least 6 tiers above you in the pecking order, one of two to take superiority over a long line of directors, specialists, managers, supervisors and assistants before you. So you can hardly blame yourself when you start to feel nerves gathering in your chest, despite how well-respected he is amongst the workforce. 

His eyes finally find yours and he clarifies your name. You can appreciate that he’s at least taken the time to learn your face. “You're Jackson’s intern, right?” 

Wow. He knows you more than you thought. “Yes sir. Is there anything I can do for you?” 

“No, thank you. I was just coming to take a look around. I’m normally part of organising the celebrations but this year I’ve been too busy.” He wordlessly waves a hand before weaving in and out the tables, reading each name tag as he passes by. You watch nervously as he inspects the room until finding himself in front of what you call The Shrine with folded arms, almost bursting at the seams. More simply, it’s a collage of photos of Taylor taken over the years pieced together in a mosaic standing on an easel, gathered and no less arranged by you, of course. Next to it stands an empty corkboard, waiting to be filled with pictures from tonight's celebration, provided by the pop-up photobooth beside it. 

“Whose idea was this?” There’s a warm smile on Mr Holland’s face.

“Mine, sir.”

“And the handcrafted name tags?”

“Also me, sir.”

“I love it. It’s very creative.” You exhale loudly, relieved. The people-pleaser inside you starts to buzz, fluttering wildly at Mr Holland’s praise. “Did you…” His eyes squint narrowly, honing in on you. “Did you organise all of this?” 

“Yes, I did. The venue and catering took some negotiating but once that was planned, the rest came with time.”

“Impressive.”

You’re about to thank him but you're interrupted by the obnoxious calling of your name in a voice that booms from the entrance of the hall. Jackson marches towards you and you stand a little straighter. He doesn’t notice Mr Holland standing in the corner of the room next to the shrine. Instead of Mr Holland announcing himself, which is what you expected him to do, he sinks his hands into his pockets and quietly observes from afar. 

“I need a rundown--” Please, that would be great. “--and for the love of God where is the present I was supposed to get Taylor?” Thanks for getting me a present for him, I’ll pay you back.

Your answer is succinct and to the point. “I’ve left it in your hotel room; it’s a dinner reservation at Keens Steakhouse in New York. As for tonight, the bar will be open for guests when they arrive at 6:30pm, Taylor will arrive between 7:00pm and 7:15pm for his surprise, the buffet will open at 7:30pm and cake will be served at 8:30pm. Last orders are at 11:30pm and the curfew is midnight. Everyone has checked in and has their hotel room key, although Kelsey couldn’t make it tonight, so her room is spare.”

Jackson gives a gruff nod, mumbling something intelligible under his breath. He cautiously looks to the bar, then narrows his eyes at you with a pointed finger wavering in your face. “I need tonight to be perfect so I need you to be sober. No alcohol. Got it?” In other words, I can’t be bothered making sure everything goes smoothly so I need you to stay sober while I get shit-faced. You nod, pursing your lips angrily as he walks away from you without a final word.

With Jackson no longer in sight, the tension finally deflates and your shoulders relax. You hate that every interaction with Jackson is a test of your skill and knowledge, caught in a vicious cycle of having to prove yourself worthy time and time again. 

As Mr Holland emerges from the corner of the room, it’s an observation he also confronts having finally witnessed Jackson’s true authoritarian nature. His eyes are fixated on the golden doors in a stare so firm it could burn holes through the metal, and just when he steps into the brighter lights of the bar, his overall demeanour changes. 

His jaw ticks when he finally faces you. “Jackson’s keeping you on your toes tonight it seems.” 

“He always does, sir.” You shuffle awkwardly on your feet, recounting the numerous occasions his brutal demands have worked you to the bone.

“I don’t think I appreciate the way he talks to you.” 

“Oh I’m used to it by now.”

“So he talks to you like that all the time?” Shit. In truth, Jackson would never have spoken so harshly to you had he known anyone was in the room let alone Mr Holland, but that was his mistake. One you’re not sorry for. “Well, if he isn’t going to tell you what an amazing job you have done, I will. You should be proud of organising all of this by yourself, it’s not easy. Well done.” 

Your chest swells with pride as Mr Holland pats a gentle hand against your upper arm. Finally, your first taste of positive reinforcement. “Thank you, sir.” 

Mr Holland’s smirk quirks at the edges. His hands find themselves deep within his pockets once again as he coolly and oh-so-calmly exits through the doors. 

~~~~

You are insomnia personified. As relieved as you are that the night is going exactly to plan, with the nervous anticipation over, you just cannot wait to get to your bed knowing that the stress is over. You have hours of sleep to catch up on, a stone of weight to put back on and friends and family to respond to, and without a single alcoholic drink to lift your spirits, you’re finding it harder and harder to keep the exhaustion at bay. Beyond the exhaustion, however, there’s a sadness hidden deep within your conscience and while you glance over the decorations you hung up as the melodic singing of ‘happy birthday’ rings in the air, it spreads. It’s clear that people are oblivious to what makes you so downcast on a celebratory night as they pass nothing more than a glance your way, but in all honesty, you much prefer it to be that way. You wouldn’t want anyone to see the tear building in the corner of your eye. 

For now, you thrive on the compliments you’ve heard about the venue, the decorations, the drinks and the food, each and every one of them satisfying your perfectionist mindset. Okay, so what no-one knows you organised the party, and sure, you can oversee the fact that none of the compliments are directed to you in particular, because in the end, you’ve gained Mr Holland’s approval and that’s enough for you.

Well, it was enough until Taylor took to the stage for a speech.

“...and a special shout-out to Jackson for putting this all together for me. This is absolutely amazing, I couldn’t have asked for more.” 

Your heart sinks in your chest and your ears instinctively drown out the clapping and cheering of the crowd around you, eyes set in stone as they watch Jackson accept the dedication so graciously that it makes you sick to your stomach. It takes every ounce of energy you have left in you to suppress the wobble in your lip at the sight of Jackson soaking up the glory like a sponge. Jackson taking the credit for your hard work was something you should’ve expected from him. After all, he is lazy and will never be willing to admit it, definitely not in front of Taylor. Still, the chase for recognition was always going to be a losing battle for you; you’re an intern for fuck’s sake, you are merely just a name and a face for most, unfulfiling of the protagonistic arc the people here want in their stories. Jackson, the kiss ass, makes much more sense being the hero than an underdog intern. 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, accepting defeat. 

You claim an empty seat at an empty table in a dark corner of the room, far from the crowd mingling on the dance floor and you remain there as the party continues into the night. The glass of tepid water looks pitiful in your hands, its lack of taste offering no respite from your sorrow. 

With fifteen minutes until last orders, you begin counting down to the moment you can retire to your bed which you know won’t arrive until after you’ve cleaned up the hall. You’re jealous of some of the guests who have already decided to leave the party.

The chair to your right suddenly scrapes across the floor and you’re slightly taken aback when Mr Holland sits close beside you and abruptly rests an elbow upon the table, blocking your view of the crowd and demanding your attention. A cedarwood scent silently announces itself and you inhale it deeply, finding sanctuary in its presence despite how startled you are by it. Your breath is simply taken from you when he shuffles himself closer. He isn’t wearing his usual attire; something a little less formal, but likely to be just as expensive. With that expensive taste comes his expensive appearance: clean, styled, decorated admirably and booming with authority. A warmth starts to take a hold of you. 

His movements are harsh and his body moves with brute intention, but behind those curls, his eyes hold sympathy, knowing what is upsetting you before it even spills from your lips. You try to fake a smile but he can see right through it. 

“I thought it was you that organised the party,” he calmly states. 

“I did. But because Jackson instructed me to plan a party means he takes responsibility for it.” 

Mr Holland doesn’t waste a single second. “It isn’t right. It’s one thing to speak to you so rudely, but it’s another to take credit for your hard work, and I’m starting to believe that Jackson doesn’t value you as an intern as much as he values the superiority that comes with it, am I right?” 

Anxiously, your eyes catch Jackson lazily hanging over the bar and demanding another drink. If Mr Holland were to know the truth, it would get Jackson in a lot of trouble and the people-pleaser inside you is screaming at you to just deny it all. Your skewed perception of professionalism means skipping over these things, something about snitching just seems so petty and childish, and that’s not the impression you want to give Mr Holland of all people.

Mr Holland’s stern voice brings you back. “You’re not answering to him now, you’re answering to me. Am. I. Right?” 

You gulp. “Yes, sir.” 

“I intend to have a word with Jackson--” 

“Mr Holland, it’s okay, really--” You try to protest but he quickly rests his hand on top of yours, his warmth enveloping it completely, and your mind halts. Your heart flutters the moment his fingers curl just the little bit tighter, a compassion that says more than words could. It’s genuine, caring, but firm in a way that’s supportive, pledging to do right by you. 

“He will apologise to you and let everyone know the truth.” 

“Please, I don’t want to cause a hassle or stir anything in the office, I just want to do well. And what would it change if people knew the truth? It doesn’t bother me that much, honestly. Besides, you know the truth. That’s all that matters to me.” Desperately and without thinking, you twist your hand and your fingers interlock, returning the squeeze with a soft smile. Mr Holland tries his best to return the sentiment but you can tell the whole ordeal still troubles him and sits discontented by your side, a regretful sigh heaving through his lips. Soon, after a silent plea to let it go, he eventually sits level with you with a brighter sparkle to his eyes and instantly, the mood is lifted. You notice how his hand doesn’t leave yours. 

“You at least deserve a drink.” 

“I shouldn’t, I’m closing up tonight and I’m working early tomorrow.” 

He scowls for what seems like the hundredth time tonight, facing issue after issue the more you expose Jackson’s true nature. “It’s Saturday tomorrow, you should be having a day off.” 

“It’s laughable you think I get a day off,” you chuckle. The sad thing is, he thinks you’re joking. Jackson often sends you his overdraft of reports to complete over the weekend and has the cheek to deem you lucky that he gives you so much wisdom and experience. You can’t imagine Mr Holland being aware of this…

“Don’t be silly darling, everyone is entitled to days off. Even Taylor took a day off today for his birthday.” 

Again, your scathing laughter meets his ears and he tilts his head, that skewed eyebrow lifting high into his forehead. “No offence sir, but with his position, he can afford to. I don’t think interns have that same benefit--”

“Of course you do, it’s company policy that everyone is entitled to a day off on their birthday.” Before you get a word in, he’s already pulling out his phone from his suit pocket. “Tell me when your birthday is so I can make sure you get it off, and I know when to get you a birthday present. Taylor too--”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that.”

“We do it for all our employees, regardless if you’re an intern or not.” His calendar flashes to life before his eyes. “So when is it? June? July?” 

Your mouth suddenly goes dry and it gawps like a fish, not a usual response to such an easy question. Your fingers knead together on your lap as the sadness once again materialises and Mr Holland quickly senses something is amiss.

“It’s…it’s today. My birthday is…was today.” 

Mr Holland’s eyes widen with horror. It’s no less than a minute later that he finally replies. “And Jackson has you working?” 

“Since 7am this morning. I had asked for my birthday off two months ago because I did actually read the company policies, but he said interns can’t request holidays because they’re not permanent. I didn’t think anything of it.” 

“What?! For fuck’s sake…” Mr Holland twists his chair violently, its legs colliding with the table as he tries to face you more directly and leans forward, your knees slotting into the space between his. The wave of his anger has rolled back even higher in its tide and now, unlike before, there’s a vein popping at his temple. “Let me just make this clear, okay? Correct me if I’m wrong. You’re telling me that Jackson has knowingly denied you of your birthday holiday entitlement and instead had you plan someone else’s birthday just so that he can take credit for it, make you work through it and clean up after it as well?”

God. In his words it sounds so desperately sad. Up until this point, you were able to distract yourself from getting caught up in the tragedy of it all, but now there’s nothing stopping the gates from opening and wallowing in self-pity. Although your blurring eyes tell of your true emotions, the forced smile on your lips does everything it can to convince both you and Mr Holland that you’re not bothered by it. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

Mr Holland’s heart inevitably sinks. In that moment, he thinks of the cruelty behind Jackson ordering you to buy and wrap his present for Taylor when you have none to open. He thinks of you, alone, buying the candles of the birthday cake you wouldn’t be blowing out. He thinks of you, just hours ago as the crowd sings happy birthday to another person, blissfully ignorant of your sorrow. He thinks of the hours you spent working when you should have been with your friends and family. It’s all of the things you truly deserve, but have been robbed from you. 

He reaches once again for your hand, now resting on your lap, and the tips of his fingers graze your thigh. You would be a fool to miss it. “Darling,” he sincerely murmurs, almost as quiet as a whisper. “I’m so sorry.” 

The fake smile takes lead and the rebel tear is wiped away. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault--”

“But it’s not okay. You…you didn’t even get to have a drink.” Damnit, your cheeks are wet again. “Did you at least get a break today?” Don’t cry in front of your CEO. Don’t cry in front of your CEO. Don’t cry in front of your CEO.

In fact, you spend so much time failing to not cry that Mr Holland assumes the worst. He takes in a long, deep breath and lures you into his embrace with a hand creeping up to the back of your head, and the second your forehead hits his shoulder, the dams break.  

“I’m just so tired,” you sniff. 

“You’ve been overworked, darling, that’s why.” His hand passes over your hair, gently cupping the curve of your head as he takes in every hiccup. His breath flows past your ears smoothly, broken up every few seconds with whispers of comfort. You feel horribly embarrassed, crying into the expensive suit of your CEO at the party you organised on your birthday: definitely not the definition of professionalism you are chasing. 

“I’m sorry. I promise I’m not usually like this.” You retreat from his shoulder but the hand cupping the back of your head prevents you from travelling too far and you’re stuck, just inches from Mr Holland’s pitying eyes. He keeps you concealed from the crowd, but it’s not enough to hide from the burning glare of Jackson, his eyes drawing daggers at you from over Mr Holland’s shoulder. He’s somewhat frozen in a stupor, scarily steady for a man who was flailing over the bar minutes ago, but anger is a quick cure for intoxication. 

Mr Holland’s voice sidles quietly into your ear. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me. Get yourself up to bed, I’ll deal with Jackson.” 

“But--”

“I will not take no for an answer. Now go.” You shiver at the stern tone, appearing only as he turns to lock eyes with Jackson who’s faring a guilty look upon his face. As Mr Holland brings you both to a stand, he gently encourages you towards the golden doors and although you should be indulging in the relief of finally being let off, you can’t pull your focus away from Mr Holland’s cold stare that refuses to stray from Jackson. In the few seconds that it takes to walk from your chair to the doors, a clear, obvious shift in mood transpires, one that is felt by the entire room because now it isn’t just you that notices Mr Holland’s sudden decline in temperament. Evidently, everyone is quick to sense the tension. The crowd’s lively dancing now settles into an awkward shuffle and the singing dulls into hushed whispers because they know to never underestimate the seriousness of Mr Holland’s anger. It’s uncomfortable and intimidating, even more so if you’re the reason for his vexation and if that’s the case, you should be on your knees begging for his forgiveness. It’s the one power Mr Holland holds that Taylor, his business partner, his equal, doesn't possess. This is your first time seeing him exercise this power and it’s incredibly daunting. 

The beat of your heels clicking their way up the staircase is a quick one, not daring to hang around the unease any longer. The fresh smell of washed cotton that greets you in your room winds you down and you don’t spare a second of reflection before you strip yourself of your stiff dress, blister-inducing heels, thick make-up and the heavy stress. You slip right between the sheets, ready to drift asleep. 

The lights are switched off, your eyes are closed and your body properly relaxes. Yet inexplicably you can’t settle into your bed no matter how much you toss and turn. Rationale convinces you that it’s because you’re in a bed different from your own, that the mattress doesn’t have the mould of your body imprinted on it, and although it’s a perfectly reasonable explanation, your inner conscience is telling you something else…

Flashes of memories made just half an hour prior spring to the surface and suddenly you’re watching yourself converse with Mr Holland again. But it isn’t exactly how you remember it.

For example, his hand is on your lap, gripping the curve of your thigh with his heat scorching through your skin when you know that, in reality, it was nothing more than a soft sweep. And when you both stood, you know he guided you with a gentlemanly hand, yet your dream sees his hand curving down the slope of your ass and squeezing the flesh. You have to refuse the idea of you shivering with arousal from hearing Mr Holland’s stern growl because truthfully, it was nerves. 

Or…was it both? 

You try to ignore it, but the seed has already been planted. Now all you can visualise is his fleeting touches, his soft voice praising you and calling you darling, the twinkle in his eyes as he sympathised for you, the caress of his hand through your hair as he comforted you, the way he cared for you, and fucking hell, the exhilaration of seeing him protect you so defensively when no one else did. His taut jaw, his clenched fists, his dark eyes, the pulsing vein at his temple, his eminence that commanded the room, the list is endless. 

“F-fuck,” you stutter, succumbing to the pleasure of your own fingers toying with your clit. You don’t quite remember the exact moment your hand slipped beneath your underwear, too caught up in your fantasy of Mr Holland to realise. Regardless, the movie in your mind continues to play out and by now, none of it reflects any real events from tonight - it’s all purely fictional.

His hand slides up between your thighs. He dons a devilish grin because he knows there’s a whole crowd blissfully unaware behind him. An innocent gasp slips from your lips and it lures his eyes to your mouth, panting as he traces the letters of his name over your covered cunt as a sign as to who it belongs to. Overrun with anticipation, you bite your lip, feeling the pad of his finger slip beneath your thong and…

“Oh my god! Shit!” Your body seizes, curling into itself as your fingers dull to a small twitch between your clenched thighs. There’s a blissful moment where you ravish the hot rush of blood pulsing at your pussy, letting it bubble until it slows to a simmer, and only when you come down from your high minutes later do you fully realise what has just happened. Eyes split wide open, you rise from your bed.

You just masturbated fantasising over your CEO. 

What in the hell have you gotten yourself into? 

~~~~

The morning comes surprisingly quickly and the hotel's thin curtains don't fully shield you from the sun's glare. It’s bright, directly in your face and if you didn’t know any better, you would think that it’s spotlighting you because it knows what you did last night. As if you forgot…

The guilt still ruins your conscience and you feel nothing but regret; fantasising and sexualising Mr Holland’s kindness is just the pinnacle of everything you disagree with and it doesn’t exactly define the sort of professionalism you strive for. 

Shaking it off as best you can, you refresh yourself with a shower and a harsh splash of cold water to your face, and by the time you open your laptop it’s 9am. There hasn’t been any emails from Jackson so far which you’re not too sure if you’re shocked by. It’s typical on a Saturday morning for Jackson to send you multiple reports with deliberately vague instructions that you would somehow have to decode and translate for yourself. But regarding last night’s events, perhaps he’s heeded Mr Holland’s words and decided to honour your weekend entitlements. 

The white screen stares back at you, watching you nervously bite your nails as if you’re expecting a red notification to pop up, attached to an email from Jackson with hungover words. A minute or two passes by and alas, nothing. Not a word. In all honesty, you don’t have an issue with it, not at all, but it means that your routine is completely disrupted and you’re struggling to decide what to do with yourself. And without work, you have nothing to distract you from last night’s sin while it plagues your mind. 

A new sweat arises and your cheeks flush with embarrassment. It shouldn’t have felt as good as it did, and that’s the part you think is the worst. Why did it feel so fucking good?

What brings you out of your self-loathing is three quick, quiet knocks echoing from your door in quick succession. Curious, you open the door and when you see who stands there in all his formal glory, you wish you hadn’t. Your heart immediately jumps to your mouth. 

“Oh, Mr Holland--hi. I wasn’t expecting you…” Your words fade into a soft whisper when your eyes spot a small pink bag, its ribbon handles hooked daintily onto his fingers. Surely that can’t be what you think it is…?

He’s painfully quiet, a small smile painting his lips at what he sees; he’s never seen you dress so casually before and he wants to take a good long look at you, unsure of when he’ll see such a sight again. The weight of his stare burns holes through you, heating you from within.

Not a second later, he holds out the pink bag towards you and you forget to breathe. 

“Happy belated birthday,” he gently voices. Your fingertips graze each other as you take it from him. For such a small, delicate bag, it’s certainly weighty and your stomach drops thinking about how much money he’s stupidly wasted on you…

“Thank you sir, really. You didn’t have to do that.” A nervous chuckle escapes your dry mouth. “How…how did you get this so quickly? It’s barely past 9 in the morning.”

“I have a few contacts who owe me a few favours. And I just felt so guilty about you missing your birthday. Sorry you couldn’t celebrate it like you should’ve.”

 “Like I said, it’s okay--” 

He shakes his head disapprovingly but surely, a taunting smirk begins to form. “Am I going to have to give you the same ‘talking to’ I gave Jackson last night to make you realise that it is definitely not okay?”

Yes, yes, yes, fucking yes. “No, no, of course not. Sorry, I suppose that’s just the people-pleaser in me.” 

Mr Holland stands stoic before you, his head slightly tilted and his hands clasped in front of him. His eyes are watching you endearingly, drawing you into him, but everything else about him oozes something that makes you want to swallow a little harder. His confidence in himself is mildly intimidating and you wish you could feel the same. Just his being here creates a dizzying effect on you that you just can’t shake. 

“You can think of this as a congratulations of sorts too.” 

You tilt your head. “Congratulations?” 

“Mh-hm,” his eyes flit over your confusion, a devilish, haunting smirk gracing his wet lips. “Congratulations on becoming a permanent member of Taylor and I’s company.” 

Mr Holland admiring you be damned, you find yourself taking a step back in shock. “Are you…are you serious?” 

“Of course I’m serious, do you think I would lie to you?” 

“Not at all, I just, I thought it was going to be Jackson’s decision. I am his intern.” 

You aren’t a fool to miss the way his jaw ticks at the mention of Jackson’s name and all too quickly, a ferocious fire consumes his eyes. A small shiver cuts through your skin. “You don’t work for Jackson anymore because Jackson no longer works for me.” 

“What?!” 

“What did you think when I said I was going to deal with Jackson? That he was going to continue working for me even after finding out he was treating you badly? Or finding out that he orders you to do his work over the weekends? Or even when he blackmails you into doing jobs beyond your remit? How could you possibly think that I would let that sleazy bastard feed off my pay when I know he isn’t capable of the job? You’re far more deserving of the position than he is, far more deserving of the appreciation and beyond capable.”

“Sir, I…I can’t thank you enough. I’m very grateful. I won’t let you down, I promise.” 

“I know you won’t. Although I do sometimes wish you would’ve told me or Taylor about Jackson’s behaviour sooner. I don’t tolerate that kind of exploitation, not even for a second and you shouldn’t have either.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I was just so caught up in wanting to do well that I would’ve done anything to please the company.”

“Maybe you should stop spending your time trying to please other people, and focus on pleasing yourself.” His face gravitates just a hairsbreadth towards yours and in quieter, darker words, he whispers… “You were certainly capable of pleasing yourself last night.” 

You take a timid step back, mouth agape. You can’t think of anything to say, not when the ringing in your ears starts to resonate louder and louder. Shame swells like a disease and you can feel the bile rising in your throat. You are almost certain you didn’t hear anyone outside your room last night, how could he have possibly known? 

“I…um…I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

He smoothly leans against the door frame, his wicked grin tells you that he doesn’t believe a word you say. Nevertheless, he explains, not to worsen how mortified he knows you already feel, but to reminisce of the surge of adrenaline and lust that coursed through him last night. 

“I came by late last night to drop off your present. I didn’t think you would still be awake so I planned on leaving it at your door, and just as I bent down to place it there, I heard just the softest of moans—“

“I think you must be mistaken—“ An uneasy chuckle barely covers your tracks, leaving you just as compromised as before. 

“I thought you might’ve been with someone, but I then didn’t hear any other voices, so I assumed you were by yourself.” 

“Sir,” you squeak, intending to finish your sentence but you just don’t have the words nor the confidence to deny him of what he already knows. You feel like a deer caught in the headlights, exposed and vulnerable without the faintest idea of how to get yourself out of his commanding presence. 

A million and one emotions rage through you and drown you in a fluster. Your feet shuffle nervously beneath you, slowly inching your way back into your hotel room as you sense yourself losing control over the conversation. With a mouth drier than the Sahara desert, there’s not much else you can do or say to avoid falling victim to both Mr Holland’s taunting and your own taunting; last night’s images playing out before you more vividly now that he resurrects them. 

The subject finally diverges, but it doesn’t mean you're any more comfortable with it. “Do you know you’re the only one that addresses me as ‘sir’?” 

You shake your head, eyes inevitably averted. You didn’t know that, you just thought it was professional. 

“You never corrected me.” 

“I didn’t want to.” 

“Why not?” 

“I liked hearing it. Just as much as I liked what I heard last night. But I need to know,” he takes a step to cross the threshold of your hotel room. “Was there anything…anyone in particular crossing your mind?” 

“There was…” His jaw ticks furiously and you instantly get the notion that denying him is simply not a choice here. 

“Who?” He demands in that stern voice you’ve heard only once before. 

One word sits on your tongue and you know that as soon as it breaks the silence, the professionalism you worked so hard to build up will crumble before you. But the risk is entirely worth it. 

“You.” 

Mr Holland’s lips part and releases a snicker as if he knew, and the curl of his smirk becomes dangerous. He lets the singular word ring out into the air, and the tension envelopes you both in a suffocating bubble until he finally speaks. “You…what?” 

“You, sir.” 

His chest rumbles with approval and you even feel its vibrations fluttering low in your stomach. Desire consumes you; a desire to know what he’s thinking, to know what he’s planning to do with that compromising information, to figure out whether he’ll respond to it in a way that satiates your more promiscuous desires like the ones that distracted you last night. You would give anything to see what’s going on inside his head. 

Inexplicably, he nods towards your pink bag, easily brushing over your last conversation like it was nothing to him and it completely throws you off. “You should open it.” 

It takes a second to drag your eyes away from him. You actually forgot you’re still holding it in your hands. The tissue paper rustles loudly as you reach in-- “Inside.” Mr Holland urges. With a short nod, you lead the way, allowing him to slowly close the door behind you with a gut-wrenching squeak and a thunderous boom.

The second the door shuts, the air becomes taut, strained and harder to breathe and you dedicate all your efforts into ignoring your last conversation just as easily as he had, but he’s standing right behind you and the warmth of his breath skates past your ear and it’s all you can think about. Even without disclosing what he now knows, the presence of Mr Holland alone would bring about such unnerving effects, so you don’t find yourself at fault for struggling to keep it together. 

From the pink bag you pull out a small white and gold box, wrapped with yet another ribbon. Inside is a silver chain, light and dainty, but the pendant it carries is nothing alike. The reflection of the sun hits the circular-cut diamond, becoming iridescent as it hits your eyes. The stone is slightly on the larger side, bigger than any other necklace you own, but it sits perfectly in the balance of being flashy yet classy. Expensive yet tasteful. It’s a piece that you can’t price and that exact thought scares you. 

“It’s beautiful,” you softly murmur. The chain cascades elegantly across your fingers, almost mesmerising to watch. 

Your eyes catch his movement in the mirror in front of you and steals your attention away from the necklace. He holds out his hand by your side, soft but firm. 

“May I?” You almost flinch as his words hit your ear, the ripple of your shiver continues for long after. As the chain pools in his hand, he is equally gentle, handling it with expertise while he lifts it carefully over head and rests the pendant tenderly in the dip between your clavicles. Its icy cold touch seers your skin, heat radiating with each grazing touch of his fingers as they clasp the chain together behind your neck. Once secure, you admire the way it shines brightly against your skin tone, eyes momentarily lost in your image until you realise that yours are the only pair looking back at you. Mr Holland remains engrossed with the curve of your neck, his proximity close enough to be counting the beats of your pulse as it thumps beneath your skin and for all you know, it’s elevating, thrashing harder and harder while you watch with wide eyes as Mr Holland presses his lips against it. 

The second his lips meet your skin, his hands find your hips, holding you steady to prevent you from buckling. A numbing tingle shoots through your nervous system at the feeling of Mr Holland swiping his tongue across the reddening bruise he’s leaving behind. Every kiss is with purpose, targeting each and every sweet spot as if he had a map to each of their location: the peak of your neck that connects to your jaw, the sensitive spot just millimetres below your ear, the slight curve of your shoulder that sits beneath the chain. He instantly claims you, and you show no sign of resistance when you find yourself voluntarily tilting your neck, begging for more.

You finally meet his eyes in the mirror, realising how cavernous his blown-out pupils are; that if you search too far you’ll become trapped. “This…” he whispers, planting another kiss to your ear, his hands beckoning to the chain, “is the only thing I’ll allow you to wear while I fuck you.” 

A shameless, breathless mewl whines from your throat and a rampage of endorphins consumes you. As the first piece of insight to his mind, you don’t get nearly enough time to let it process in your head before his clawing hands are tugging at the drawstrings of your joggers. 

The small nip to your neck is a wake-up call. This is real and this isn’t a fantasy of yours, only that it will be a recreation of what had you orgasming last night. 

“You know, I can be a people pleaser too.” His hand slips beneath your joggers, but refrains from slipping beneath your underwear. “I can please you in so many ways.” As a testimony to his words, his fingers trace over the silk of your underwear, catching your bud in its travels and a silent gasp bursts from your lips. “But not without earning it. Do as you’re told, and I’ll do exactly that.” 

Your head falls back onto his shoulder, words vacant, eyes rolling. 

“Are you listening to me?” The hand on your hip squeezes harshly and you jerk in his arms. You have never agreed to something quicker in your life.

“Yes, sir! Oh—” 

“Good. Then you can start by closing those curtains over there.” 

His hand slips fluidly out of your joggers when you force yourself away from the subtle torment. The light dims a little, however you think it’s more for privacy than for light. When your back turns once again, Mr Holland sits himself on the edge of the bed, legs spread and leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. Whatever it is about him in that single second triggers something in you; attraction, lust, sex appeal, or all of the above. Whatever it is, it compels you to give yourself in to him.

A messy mixture of want, need and unrelenting desire brings you to your knees before him. His eyes sweep over your face, examining, analysing, translating every desperate twitch. He can even see your lips parting where he spots the remnants of teeth marks from when you had nervously bitten them in hidden moments. Smoothly, the pad of his thumb brushes over your lip, tugging it into a pout because that’s what he wants to see; you, desperate, pouting, begging for him. It soon pops back into place, his hand now curling around your chin and pulling you closer. His own lips are nothing more than a breath away from yours and you think he’s going to finally kiss you, but annoyingly, he only allows you to feel the shape of the words as he whispers them to you. 

“So what is it about me then, hm? What do I do that turns you on?” 

“It’s…it’s stupid.” 

He lets out an exasperated sigh. “Let me rephrase.” The grip on your chin tightens and your noses collide. “Tell me what it is about me that turns you on.” 

“Last night at the party, you were the only one that…cared. You made me feel like I wasn’t invisible.” 

“What else?” 

“You stood up to Jackson for me - you just looked so determined like you were unstoppable.” 

He tilts his head in the other direction now, leaning in just as close, your breaths mingling together. You’re so desperate to feel his lips on yours. “And?” 

“When…when you touched my thigh--”

“You were burning.”

“I was nervous--” 

“Because of me.” 

“Of course because of you. I was scared of disappointing you.” 

A small snicker escapes him and leaves behind a wicked smirk. Two hands now firmly cradle your jawline and you think the moment has finally come. Why else would your heart be thumping in your chest? 

“Not possible. I always knew you were a good girl. And I think you like being told that, don’t you? You like being recognised to the point where you need to be reassured of it. I saw that coy little look on your face the first time I told you how impressed I was. It was obvious that no one else had praised you like I did - you couldn’t keep yourself together. And I bet if I kept telling you how fucking sweet you are, and how much of an perfect angel I know you are for me, the second I slip my fingers into your tight little pussy, you’d be an absolute mess.” 

Well, he’s not wrong. You’re already soaked. 

“Please, sir,” you whimper. “Please just kiss me.” 

Finally, finally, he pulls you in for a long, languid kiss, his tongue takes lead to taste every part of your bitten lips as they slot perfectly in between his, lingering longer with each time he captures them. The blood rushes so quickly through your veins you think you might implode, overwhelmed by just how good it feels that your hands suddenly grapple onto the cuffs of his shirt. 

A satisfied hum buzzes against your lips, twisting your own into a small grin that unbeknown to you, Mr Holland could actually feel. 

“Let me see you,” he demands, his hands plucking at the hem of your sweatshirt. When you don’t do it right away, a tight grip coils around your neck and stops the gasp leaving your mouth. “Do. As. You’re. Told.” 

You’re baring your all for him (all except a diamond necklace) in a matter of seconds, standing before him as he leisurely leans back against the bed, resting on his elbows. Those predatory eyes roam your body, mapping out the shape and details, and imprinting them to memory. 

“So fucking pretty…” He deliberately watches for your reaction and you crumble under the praise resulting in a mirthful laughter to shake his chest. His arms reach for your waist, luring you in with the tight grab of your hips until his lips sit just below your ribs. The heat from his breath hitting your skin makes you involuntarily wriggle, but he doesn’t allow for any movement from you, not unless he permits it. You feel his lips suddenly, trailing across your ribs and up your chest. “Do you know what good girls like you do for me?”

“What?” You breathlessly murmur.

“They get on their knees,” Mr Holland pauses to let you act on it. Now you’re looking up at him as his knuckle ghosts over your cheeks and he mingles closer. “They look at me right in the eyes and they beg me to give them a taste, to let them suck me off because they’ll do anything for a reward, even if it is just a few words of praise. So let’s hear you, pretty girl. I want to hear you beg me with that sweet, innocent voice of yours.” 

You take a cautious breath. “I want to taste you so badly, sir. Please. Will you let me?” 

“Hmm.” He purses his lips. Shit. It isn’t good enough for him and he spots the panic in your eyes. All of a sudden, you begin pleading in such a desperate, childish tone you didn’t know you were capable of. Even your lip begins pouting as the need to please him becomes so overwhelming that, unexpectedly, your eyes water, like you’re facing life or death. And he is the decider. 

“Wait, wait, no, please, I want to make you feel so good, so, so, so good. I can do it, I promise, and I can be good for you if you let me. Please sir, I really need it. I’ll do anything.” 

Mr Holland smiles and gently kisses you with approval, just the shortest of pecks of reassurance before he leans back and nods towards the zipper of his suit trousers, tented with the erection that’s pleading to be satisfied. You waste no time in unbuttoning, unzipping and pulling free his hard cock that almost dwarfs your hand and you stare at him with such bewilderment, a stare that is returned by a certain smugness, a confidence that has you licking your lips. 

There’s a surge of instinct coursing through you and your brain convinces you that there’s nothing else you should be doing, that your whole purpose at this very moment is to do as you promise; to please him, to make him feel good, so when you hear his moans the second you wrap your lips around him, your heart flutters with fulfilment. It’s a sensation you keep chasing, growing stronger the longer you bob your head up and down his cock, every time his praise seeps from his lips, and you just about lose it when his fingers comb through your hair. You offer every trick in the book; swirling around your tongue around the head of his cock, sweeping it across the small slit to collect the small bead of cum, teasing him before taking him down your throat and gagging on him. Not too little, not too much. Consistency is key. 

You’re not sure how much of an idea he has about just how dedicated you are in your mission to prove yourself to him, that you’re desperate to show how capable you are by what you’re willing to do; perhaps a horrible side-effect of having to constantly prove yourself to Jackson with each conversation, but with Mr Holland, there’s an element of belief and confidence: a contradiction between Jackson’s ‘I don’t believe you until you prove it’ versus Mr Holland’s ‘do it because I know you can’. 

Mr Holland’s head falls back, his eyes closed, and falls into an eerie silence. If it wasn’t for his hand still combing through your roots, you would’ve thought he wasn’t satisfied with you. Still, you keep going, running your lips and tongue down his shaft and returning slowly back up again where you get a teaser of the bitter-sweet taste you’re vying for. He doesn’t say anything for a while and you’re undecided of whether you’re doing so well that he’s speechless, or you’re not doing enough that’s worthy of his praise. It’s hard to tell with his head tilted back, and you begin to lose faith. You’ve become so drawn into his voice and words that you feel lost without them.

‘You like being recognised to the point where you need to be reassured of it.’

“Sir,” you meekly voice, leaving a beat to suck on the head of his cock. “Am I making you feel good?” 

The depth of his growl sends a spike of arousal straight to your clit. He spits out his words in a manner that’s uncontrollable. “Fucking incredible.”

His head finally lifts and his eyes pin on you, fully blown and dilated. “Look at you - oh fuck - taking me so well. Knew you’d be a good girl but f-fuck, I don’t know if I can hold it in any longer.” 

You reply with a wanton mewl, your dopey, tear-stained eyes saying the words your mouth can’t. You need to do something that would push him over the edge, do something that would completely shatter his world, never to be forgotten. He’s already so close, and you're already dripping onto the carpet, and with one last final trick up your sleeve, you catch his eyes, sink yourself onto him until your nose bashes against skin, and fight through the gag. Teeth baring, you slowly, lightly, graze your teeth up his cock, ghosting over every vein that pulses, leaving behind the soothing aftercare of your soft lips. By your side, his thighs twitch and by the time you reach the head of his cock, an explosion happens. 

Mr Holland swings forward, grappling onto your head as you drink down everything he gives you. His entire body tenses, trapping you into a headlock and just only for a couple of seconds do you feel yourself losing breath. It's slightly tense and panic-inducing but it doesn’t matter, because above you he’s panting heavily, enclosing his thighs around your head and holding onto you for dear life. It’s all the signs you need to know that you’ve done what you promised, you have proved yourself. 

“Fucking hell,” Mr Holland pants. His grip loosens around you and your lips release him with a pop. The instant your lips are free, he claims them, humming into them with adoration. “That was…” A soft, tender kiss. “The best goddamn…” Then another. “Blow job I’ve ever had.” He kisses you for a final time with a smile laced through it, and rests his forehead on yours to give himself some time to catch his breath. “So good…” he breathes. “So, so, so good. Sweet angel. My sweet angel.”

There isn’t anything to describe the burst of achievement that swarms your chest when you hear those words and your cheeks inevitably heat under his hands. You’re smiling, obviously smiling and no matter how hard you bite your lips to hide it, the pull is too strong. You make yourself far too goddamn easy to read so when Mr Holland catches a glimpse of your reaction, he smirks, clearly amused, and simultaneously reaches down the length of your body until his hand finds sanctum between your thighs. 

“Hmm, you’re soaked, darling. Don’t you think we should do something about it? After all, you’re earned your reward, and I’m dying for a taste of that messy, little pussy of yours.” 

You release a shaky breath when his fingers start exploring. “Yes, oh god, yes.” 

“Yes…what?” 

“Yes, sir!” 

“Better. Let’s not make that mistake again.” 

“No, sir.” 

“Good. Now--”  In a vice-like grip, Mr Holland encircles your waist and your body burns against the rough cashmere of his suit. It’s surprisingly stimulating as he casually hauls you off your feet, but you would much rather the heat of his skin. Nevertheless, your back soon meets the soft cotton of your sheets as he lays you to rest on the bed, remaining shadowing above you basking in the sight of your naked, wanting body. The diamond that nestles deep into the base of your throat twinkles obnoxiously in his eyes and he almost grows jealous of the way it hugs your neck. However, it's a jealousy he can overlook as his eyes wander over the peak of your breasts and your glistening cunt, because he knows that they are all for him. 

Mr Holland promptly sinks to his knees, placing his head in between your thighs, his eyes never straying from your cunt. There isn’t a moment of hesitation when he swings his arms to cross over your hips, dragging your legs effortlessly over his shoulders and diving, tongue first, into your cunt. It’s a complete invasion of his touch, his tongue immediately swirling around your clit with a careful, consistent pressure that deep down, you know will end you in minutes. The gasp is telling of your struggle to keep composed, gradually crescendoing into a moan as that amorous tongue descends down your slit, licking you up in long, fat strips. An urge in your hips begs for attention, wanting to raise higher to ease the tension building deep in your stomach, but you're trapped, locked in place with no routes of escape and you have to tell yourself that you just have to tough it out. 

But it’s harder said than done when he begins slotting his tongue into your hole, tasting and caressing every inch of you he’s capable of reaching. Digging deeper and deeper, his mouth consumes the entirety of your cunt, humming into it to push you further over the edge. He knows you’re hanging on by a thread, but it doesn’t mean he’s willing to slow down. And just then, an evil, malicious thought spawns in his mind which he voices immediately. 

“You’re not cumming until I say so. Understood?” 

The feeling of you clenching to stop the impending orgasm has him chuckling. He knew you were close. 

“Such a sweet, little angel. So obedient too, right?” He blows a gentle breeze onto your clit and you simply whimper in response. “Right?”

“Y-yes, sir.” 

Satisfied, Mr Holland has your cunt in his mouth again, salivating over its taste as he suckles on your clit, your folds, your skin, anything to lure out what he knows he’s going to get eventually, but it makes it twice as appetising when he knows your orgasm is only at his command. 

Meanwhile, your heart stammers in your chest with each tug of his lips. Whatever sanity you have left to cling onto, you claw at it with desperate hands, fighting to hold up the wall that blocks the blood rushing to your cunt, holding your breath to stop the bubble from bursting, because fuck, you are ready to snap. You can’t help but notice how he’s taken a page from your book, pleasuring you at a steady consistent pace, not too much but not too little. Unsurprisingly, the result is the same but the conditions are far worse.

“Oh my god, please let me cum, I can’t hold it anymore.” 

His grip only tightens, his tongue moves faster and his mouth gets hotter. 

Your hands, of a mind of their own, decide to condemn your obedience and push at his arms around your hips in an attempt to get away. Despite his obvious strength, you somehow manage to get a microsecond of respite, but his mouth only sucks you back in again, murmuring only one word that runs laps around your head.

“Obedience.” 

“I can’t, sir, please, I can’t h-hold on. Fuck!” 

“Oh dear.” 

“NO! No, no, no, no, okay, okay, I’ll do it, I can hold on. Just…please go slower.” 

His dark cavernous eyes meet yours from behind his arms, unmoving even as he relishes the taste of your slick, challenging you for only a second before he thankfully listens to your wishes. Weakened, your head flops back onto the bed with a small bounce, eyes drifting shut as the feeling in your stomach calms and a small relief hugs your heart. It’s a small price to pay to lose the feeling of euphoria that was going to course through you…only if Mr Holland had let it or if your people-pleasing traits had failed you, none of which had actually happened. 

The feeling deflates but the pleasure still lingers.

“You taste so delicious, darling. I could eat you all day.” Arousal jumps to your clit like a flash of electricity. “And you’re doing so well for me, how could I ever stop?” This time, it’s his tongue, soft and caressing. “And this pussy; so pretty, so fucking pretty, I could just play with it for days.” His finger begins circling your clit not too long after he spits into it. By now, you realise what he’s doing. He’s feeding into your need for praise that, along with the small touches and sweeping licks, builds you up just as quickly and suddenly as before, and once again you’re struggling to cope. “I know you can be such a good girl for me, I know you can do as I say, and you have no idea how much it turns me on when you do.” 

“Sir…” You warn. He instantly recognises the desperation. 

“I’ve got one last instruction for you, angel.” He sucks on your clit for just a couple of seconds, just to get you closer and closer to falling apart. “Cum for me. Cum in my mouth.” 

“Fuck!” You scream as an endless stream of euphoria consumes you, hitting you in a sudden white wash of heat that riddles your entire body top to toe. You can feel your cunt clenching erratically, between homing an orgasm and suffering under Mr Holland's continuous lashings, it can't, not for one second, rest until either relent. You feel your own slick, hot and bothered, trickling down your ass but before it gets the chance to meet with the white sheets beneath you, Mr Holland sweeps it up expertly with his tongue, partnered with a primal growl of pleasure.

By the time Mr Holland has finished cleaning up every inch of your cunt and ass with his tongue, he proceeds to kiss his way gently up your body, not forgetting to leave your tits untouched and pinches your buds between his lips. You have just enough energy to cradle his head, allowing yourself the pleasure to run your fingers through his hair, moving with him while he leaves sharp kisses to your chest, your collar bone, your neck, ear and jaw, until once again, those hungry lips claim yours.

Still somewhat recovering, you purr quietly, content with the overall sense of pleasure, both of your sexual and people-pleasing needs.

Your lips slowly part. The kiss ceases but your noses brush off one another gently, still basking in the blissful, intimate aftermath of what's just happened. Your CEO above you remains, hovering over you with admiration in his eyes, running over your features as if it is the first time he's seeing them, adoring them all over again.

There's two words sitting on the tip of his tongue, hidden behind a smirk because he knows what he'll see when he speaks them.

"You're beautiful."

Of course, his prediction comes true. Your cheeks redden, your eyes roll away and your teeth sink into your swollen lips, muttering incoherently about it not being true but thanks him incessantly, but Mr Holland is too caught up in your coy modesty to rebuttal. It's just like the first time he complimented you, and he realises then and there that he's addicted to being the person that makes you shy, blushed, diffident.

Being a CEO, he does indeed posses significant power in the palm of his hand, obtained by hard work, dedication, commitment and sacrifice, but for him, there isn't a power stronger than the one he has over you and all it takes is a few, simple, praising words.

"We still have another three hours until check out."

Your eyes and ears perk up. "Sir?"

Cautiously, he shuffles above you, innocent until you feel his cock sliding into you and he relishes the catch in the back of your throat at the sudden pressure forcing its way fluidly into you. You're simply speechless, questioning if it'll ever end as he pushes every inch of him inside you, breaching and stretching the boundaries of your walls. Mr Holland snags your bottom lip between his teeth, harshly biting as a relief for the tight grip that surrounds his cock.

When your ass eventually meet his hips, you both release a groan in unison, breaths mixing and mingling until Mr Holland breaks the silence.

"You're gonna look even more beautiful when you're all fucked out and dumb for my cock, all with a diamond wrapped round your neck."

His hips snap back at a frighteningly fast pace and thrusts in even more aggressively. The pain is immeasurably exhilarating. Your thighs squeeze his waist, mouth agape without a single breath escaping.

"Think of this as a second birthday gift." Like before, he draws back and slams into you without mercy. "Do as you're told and you'll get your third on Monday in my office."

Somehow, your gut tells you that you won't have a problem with that. Not at all.

#dom!tom holland #ceo!tom holland #soft!dom!tom holland #sub!reader #tom holland smut #tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #smut #angst #peter parker smut #one shot #peter parker #tom holland one shot #tom holland fanfic #praise you like i should

[lipglossanon]

You’re All I’ve Got Tonight

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙ ███████▒▒▒ 70%

part i

office exec!Leon S. Kennedy x personal assistant fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, dirty talk, kissing, nipple/breast play, grinding, unprotected sex, creampie

Actually looked over with a second pair of eyes by the ever lovely @rex122303 ✌️ you have my unwavering devotion 🙇‍♀️

title from You're All I’ve Got Tonight by The Cars

⋘ 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠…⋙ ████████ 100%

You’ve been giving Leon the cold shoulder since that scandalous night in his office. You know it’s not his fault he was suddenly called up by the CEO to handle some business altercation out of state. 

But he could have called you or left a message or, hell, he could have emailed you. So when he shows up a week later, you’re short and to the point, never staying late and always disappearing if it looks like you’ll be alone with him. 

If he’s frustrated with you, you don’t really care (you do, but you’ll never admit it). He’s still cordial, still touchy feely when he can get away with it, like when brushing past you in the boardroom, but you stay firmly polite even if his touch makes you press your thighs together. 

It all comes to a head a few weeks later when an overnight trip to a business summit’s announced for the small team under Leon’s advisement. This small team also includes you, much to your chagrin. So you prep and plan, making sure all the emails are filled with the correct dossiers and agendas for each individual person and marking off the calendar accordingly. 

Leon tries to corner you time and again as you get everything setup, but you’re able to duck out of it every single time. You know it’s not very mature of you to avoid him, but you still feel embarrassed about the reaction you had when he ghosted you, even if it wasn’t entirely his fault. Your pride took one hit already, so now you’re just trying to avoid another. 

The date for the summit arrives far too quickly and you’re all holed up in the rental van to drive out of the city to the nearby retreat that’s hosting. You make small talk with Ark, a really sweet guy who works in IT. He’s friendly without being overbearing so the drive passes by comfortably although not quickly. 

Arriving at the retreat, everyone piles out of the van, grabs their luggage, and makes their way to the front desk. Bad luck on your part lands you at the end of the line standing next to Leon. Surprisingly, he doesn’t try to chat you up or anything, just scrolling on his phone with a little furrow between his brows. You stare ahead watching as the rest of the team grab their room keys and disappear further into the foyer.  

“Hi there and welcome! Checking in?”

The perky brunette behind the desk smiles at you, making you smile back, but before you open your mouth Leon steps in front of you. 

“Hi! Checking in for Kennedy.”

Your smile tightens as you side step so you’re standing a little behind Leon now. The lady sends you a quick sympathetic look as she types in his name. 

“You’re all set, sir,” she hands him a keycard, “if you need anything whatsoever please don’t hesitate to contact the front desk or the concierge. Please have a wonderful stay!”

She turns to you and repeats the same greeting making you internally wince in sympathy as she types in your information. Her smile falters and eventually drops into a confused frown. 

“I’m terribly sorry, but it seems like your party has all checked in and there are no more rooms available,” she types for a few more seconds before turning back to you with an apologetic smile, “and seeing as we’re fully booked, you can check and see if one of your colleagues—“

“She can room with me,” Leon offers flippantly, giving the brunette another smile, before turning back to his phone, “it’s not a big deal.”

She turns to you, eyebrows raised in question and you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“It’ll be fine,” you plaster a fake smile on and look over at Leon, “I appreciate it, Mr. Kennedy.”

He gives you a smarmy little grin, “Not a problem, madam secretary.”

You roll your eyes at him and turn back in time to grab the spare keycard. 

The young woman rattles off the same spiel as you grab your luggage, “If you need anything whatsoever please don’t hesitate to contact the front desk or the concierge. Please have a wonderful stay!”

You follow Leon through the foyer and over to the elevators, thanking your lucky stars no one from your office will actually see that you’re bunking with the boss. Butterflies threaten to flutter in your chest but you tamp them down, not letting yourself get swept away like last time. 

Leon lets you stew in your own thoughts as you enter the tenth floor, leading you down the hall to the room you’ll be sharing. He unlocks the door and holds it open, gesturing for you to enter first. You nod and roll your luggage case in behind you only to stop dead in the little hallway into the room. 

“There’s just one bed,” you blurt out, disbelief sweeping over you. 

Leon walks up next to you, letting the door swing shut. 

“Oh wow, that’s really unfortunate,” he shrugs, sounding a little too blasé. 

You squint at his side profile, “I’ll see if they can send in a roller bed—“

Leon scoffs, “Look it’s a king size bed, we can share like civilized adults.”

You purse your lips, “Mmhmm, and it’s not just awfully convenient we ran out of rooms for everyone and now we just happen to have to share a bed?”

Leon grins at you, the one that always makes those damn butterflies flutter.

“Just really weird co-winky-dinks,” his grin widens when you fight the smile wanting to slip out, instead giving him another eye roll. 

“Okay,” you throw your hands up with a sigh, “it’s only a short weekend trip.”

One of the reasons you’ve been avoiding Leon is it’s so easy to slip into the comfortable back and forth you’ve already built up. So it’s next to no time before he’s already weaseled a laugh out of you with his shitty one liner jokes. You’re a little nervous now that you’re kinda back on friendly terms, especially after you explained yourself. 

Now, he’s ordering room service for you both while you jump in the shower, letting yourself spend some extra time on shaving and primping before leaving the bathroom. Not for any ulterior motives or anything you think to yourself as you finish putting on your moisturizer. 

When you come out of the bathroom, Leon slips past you and shuts the door. You see that he hasn’t eaten yet, deciding to wait on you to finish up, which makes you feel warm and fuzzy at the thoughtful gesture. So you wait in turn, drinking some water as you channel surf, settling on a show about an elderly mystery writer who always stumbles upon a murder that needs solving. 

You’re pretty engrossed with J.B. Fletcher’s hunt for the killer, but when Leon steps out of the bathroom he draws all of your attention. His face is obscured as he dries his hair with a towel, leaving you to ogle his bare chest and toned stomach with his low slung sweats sitting on his hips, his happy trail catching your eye last. 

You make sure to be looking away by the time he drops the towel around his shoulders. 

“You should’ve went ahead,” he nudges your side, sitting down next to you on the bed. 

“Eh, just thought I’d wait,” you smile at him, nudging him back as he grabs one of the food containers. 

You grab another container and you both watch the rest of the show as you eat a late dinner. After tossing the trash away, you brush your teeth side by side at the double sinks, and find your way into bed. 

After settling underneath the blankets, Leon rolls over and props his head up on his palm. 

“So no goodnight kiss?” 

You roll over to mirror him, eyes taking in his half smile and damp fringe. 

“What makes you think you should get a goodnight kiss?” 

“Lots of reasons,” his hands shoot out to grab your waist, yanking you into his body. 

“I think you owe me a lot of making up, honey,” he murmurs, dropping a kiss to your cheek. 

One heated kiss leads to another and before you know it—

“Oh god,” you whine, grinding slowly against Leon. 

His cock is trapped in your panties, rubbing all along your dripping slit as he ruts against your cunt. His back rests against the headboard of the hotel room bed with you straddling his lap. 

You’ve been like this for an hour already; his lap and your thighs are soaked in slick and precum. 

“S’good,” he mutters under his breath, dilated eyes watching your tits jiggle, “wanna stay like this for the rest of the weekend.”

Goosebumps trail down your arms as you shiver, body completely bare except for your panties. 

“What about the presentation, sir? The actual summit?”

Leon grins lazily, dragging his eyes up to your face, “What about’em? I’m just trying to hump this little pussy.”

You whimper and rock against him harder.

The grin on his face widens, “Yeah, you like it too, like my fat cock rubbing all over this soaked cunt.”

“Leon,” your nails dig into his shoulders, eyes clenched shut.

“I wanna slide it in, but this feels too good,” he grunts, feeling your clit catch on the tip of his dick, “c’mere and let me suck on those tits, know you like that.”

You rock forward, pressing your chest out as his mouth leans up to suck on your hard nipples. He groans low in his chest as his lips and tongue work one hard bud while his fingers tweak and pinch the other. Your hips give short little thrusts as sharp bolts of arousal buzz in your clit. 

Sloppy sounds of sucking fill the room along with your pants and whines as Leon lathes your breasts with his attention. 

“Leon I want it, want your cock in me, please,” you gasp out as he bites your nipple and runs his tongue across it over and over until you’re squirming against him. 

“Think you deserve it?” he kisses across your breasts, teeth nipping at the skin as he swaps to the other nipple.  

“Please, want it, I’m so empty,” you whine.

“You've been ignoring me, honey,” he mockingly pouts up at you, lips swollen and hair messy, “outright avoiding me, I’d say.”

“You were mean,” you whine and he pinches your nipples hard making you buck against him.

“I’m being sweet now, aren’t I?” he grunts, sliding his fat cock into your pussy making you squeal from the stretch.

He’s so much bigger than you remember, making your back bow, head tipped back and mouth open, panting while he bullies his dick deeper and deeper into your pussy until he’s bottoming out.

He shushes you as you sink down on his dick with a low cry, “Such a good girl for me. Damn, missed this tight little pussy.”

You shove your breasts into his face making him growl, hands tightening on your hips, sinking you fully down on his cock. Leon’s mouth hotly kisses across your tits, sucking bruises into the sensitive skin. Groaning, he suckles your nipples eagerly until you’re bouncing on his dick. 

You let your hands sink into his soft hair, rocking your hips down hard onto his lap. Mewling, you tug on the silky strands as Leon’s tongue laps across your swollen nipples making you squirm. His hands move up to your waist as he humps your hot wet pussy, burying his cock deep in your throbbing cunt.

Feeling over sensitive, you try to pull his head away from your chest but he only groans, suckling your hard bud deeper into his mouth. His cock kicks and throbs as you slump forward, smooshing your tits into his face. 

“Leon, they’re g’nna be so sore,” you gasp as he nips at the swell of your breasts before pulling away. 

“But you like it, squeezing down on me so tight,” he grins, shaking the hair from his face as he tilts his head up, “now kiss me, sweetheart.”

You whine in the back of your throat and drop your mouth down on his. You feel as Leon scrapes his teeth against your bottom lip. He moans, licking into your mouth, tongue running along yours teasingly. 

He tugs you closer and closer, the kisses becoming more sloppy with spit dripping past your swollen lips. He chuckles when your fingers drop from his hair to cup the back of his head, pulling him forward til there’s no space between you. 

Pulling away for a breath, Leon just tugs you back in for another messy kiss, his hot tongue licking into you again and again.

“Been driving me up the wall, wanted to talk to you so bad,” he lets his head fall back to rest against the headboard as you grind dirtily against him, “had the best sex of my life and when I came back you pretended I didn’t even exist, honey.”

“‘m sorry, sir,” you whimper, eyes fluttering as his cock grinds just right against the spongy spot at the front of your pussy, “just got into my own head.”

“S’okay,” he coos up at you, letting one of his hands drop down and tease your swollen clit, “just gonna let this sweet pussy milk a nice thick load outta me.”

“Yeah, yeah, gonna milk your cock so good,” you slur, arching your back so your breasts brush against his mouth. 

He snarls and bites at your soft tits, “That’s it, squeeze my cock.”

You whine, body jerking as he pinches and rubs your pudgy clit, sucking each of your nipples between his teeth to run his tongue across them. The coil in your belly’s winding tighter and tighter as Leon teases your nipples and clit at the same time. 

“Oh,” you gasp out, “g’nna cum, Leon—“

A low cry spills from your mouth as you clamp down on Leon’s dick, pussy walls fluttering and milking his throbbing cock as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“So sexy,” Leon’s hips thrust up into your squelching pussy, “so fucking sexy. Gonna make me cum, baby. Y’ready?”

“Yes, yes, please,” you moan, digging your nails into his chest making him curse under his breath and bury his cock into your sopping wet hole. 

You feel rope after rope of hot, sticky cum spurt inside your cunt, stuffing you so full that it leaks out around his throbbing cock. 

“Beautiful,” he places open mouthed kisses across your clavicle up to your neck, letting his tongue tease across your skin, “such a good girl for me.”

You sigh, feeling blissed out and utterly satisfied. He tugs your head down to kiss you softly at the corner of your mouth.  

“If you want, just relax and I’ll bring a cloth in to clean you up.”

You smile at him sleepily, “Wanna snuggle.”

He returns your sleepy smile with a small one of his own, “You got it, sweetheart.” 

#lipglossanon #lipglossmasterlist #office exec!leon s kennedy moodboard #office exec!leon s kennedy #office exec!leon s kennedy x fem!reader smut #office exec!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #office exec!leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #fem!reader #personal assistant!reader #secretary!reader #ark thompson Easter egg

[ajaxsprettyboy]

NEW PLAYER

Streamer / camboy male reader x biggest fan leona (mostly ooc but I mean come on it’s leona he’s hot regardless)

Leona has the funds to support his infatuation with you. He doesn’t feel bad about it, well, maybe a little, considering you’re barely 18. But aside from that who is he to discourage a pretty boy from showing off his gaming skills, good commentary, and gorgeous body. The sound of your voice could be heard from his phone whenever he felt the need to get off.

Maybe it was your face, maybe it was the pretty sounds you made when you got jump scared, or maybe, just maybe, it was how he’d assure you reached your tip goals just so he could see you in cute little outfits. Most of them being natural prey to lions.

Much to Leona’s surprise, you held an interactive event. You had goals set and for each one met, you would hold a stream only for the contributors. The last goal you had had a bigger prize. To meet you. This would only have one winner, selected via raffle. Most would be too nervous to put their names up for the contest, but leona had a good feeling about his chances.

He was right! He won! The next two names are the second and third winners, winners of compensation prizes. Leona didn’t care about those though, when he got the email about meeting his favorite streamer he was so pleased with himself. Leona read over the email, telling him what can and can’t be done unless explicitly stated by you. When the day came, you didn’t expect to see a guy around your age, let alone an attractive one.

He smirked and introduced himself, watching your sheepish expression melt away. He looked down at you and waited for you to speak. “Well, you already know who I am,” you laughed. “What would you like to do! We don’t have a time limit so if you’d like to play a game, go live, or maybe just talk, we have time for it all!” You smiled at him, it was the same smile you had when you were laughing, a genuine smile. He liked that.

“I’ve got a better idea” “oh! What’s that? I’m all ears!”

Well you didn’t mean your sentence to be taken literally, but now with the floppy bunny ears on top of your head, a tight skirt, a pair of fishnets on, while you struggle to fit all of Leona’s cock in your mouth, you couldn’t help but blush. The camera was rolling, live on your nsfw streaming service, recording how tears prickled your lash line.

Leona’s tail flicked behind him in a pleased manner, his hand on the back of your head, careful not to disturb those bunny ears as he watched you choke on him. Leona’s not dumb, he knows you wouldn’t do this if you weren’t attracted to him, yourself. He knew if he was going to get more than sex out of you, he’d need to get your number. But right now all he can clearly think about is how pretty you look on your knees for him.

Leona made sure the camera caught how you swallowed his load. He made absolutely sure the camera could see your pretty face as he sunk you down onto his cock. He wanted to watch this all over again later but feeling it was much better. The camera caught the way your pretty cock slapped against his stomach, the way you moaned, whimpered, and begged him for more.

“Sir, please, can I cum?” Only to be met with a low growl and a deep chuckle from behind the camera. “You know better, bunny.” His reply was laced with sadistic lust and adoration. “Good boys earn their orgasm. Make me cum again and maybe you’ll get a reward.” He planned on letting you cum, but he didn’t want you to know that. He planned on watching your pretty face contort as you shot hot sticky load after hot sticky load onto him but god he loves the look of determination that always graces your features when you have a goal in mind.

Eventually when leona came, he let you cum, wrapping his much larger hand around your cock. When you came he couldn’t help but look at your pitiful expression and shaking legs with pride. He then shut the camera off after you waved goodbye. Usually, whenever leona sleeps with someone, he just lets them clean themselves up, but he helped you. He ran you a bath, got you food cooked by his personal chefs, and even fixed up your bed.

Safe to say leona got your number and did in fact rewatch that video after he left.

He’s proud to say he’s got a date with you in a week.

#snow.writes #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #twst reader insert #leona kingscholar #leona x you #leona x male reader #twst x male reader #twst leona #twst leona x reader #disney twst #leona smut #leona kingscholar smut

[btsgotjams27]

don't push your luck | knj

you’re asked to present at an important meeting, but of course, your rival has to come along for the ride.

✨ title: don't push your luck | one-shot ✨ pairing: namjoon x f!reader ✨ genre/au: angst | ex college rivals, e2l, co-workers, one-bed trope ✨ rating: pg-18 | ✨ word count: 6.4k ✨ warnings: language, joon loves to call reader a lot of pet names, suggestive language, they're both kinda jerks to one another, they've also known each other for a long time (and slept together once), both are literary agents, mentions of surgery and cancer, banter, mentions of alcohol, they sleep in the same bed, there is a small hug, reader has misconceptions of joon, did i mention angst?, reader likes to blame namjoon for her shortcomings ✨ a/n: hi--so this was originally supposed to be out for joonie's birthday lmao and here it is a few weeks later. don't be afraid to let me know what you think. i love hearing from readers.

“Hold the door!”

A heaving sensation fills your chest and you feel out of breath. Everything you could imagine going wrong before a flight happened—your alarm wasn’t set, the Uber arrived late and hit every traffic light, security ‘needed’ to rifle through your suitcase for suspicious items, and the stupid expensive carry-on you purchased has given up on you.

“You made it just in time,” the attendant smiles and scans your plane ticket.

“Oh, thank god.”

You’re grateful to be in first class and now you can finally relax. It’s even better when you look at your row and the seat next to you is empty. There are a few glares from other passengers, but you don’t care–you’ve made it, and that’s all that matters.

When you settle into your seat, you check your phone for any last-minute work emails. The flight attendant announced the plane was ready to taxi for take-off. They ask everyone to be seated and buckled.

As you’re ready to plug your earbud in, you hear a muffled bang from behind. Peering over your shoulder, you realize you’re in the row before the bathrooms. Great, you think, that’ll be fun. You can hear clinking and clanking from the bathroom door along with someone shuffling out as the door slam shuts.

“Sir, please take your seat. We’re ready for take-off,” the flight attendant says.

The man clears his throat. “Oh, yes, of course. My seat’s right here.”

You look up to see none other than the person who has become the bane of your existence, Kim Namjoon. They say keep your friends close, but your enemies closer and he loved to be so close to you alright–everywhere you are to be exact.

Your jaw clenches as he plops down beside you. A few seconds later, a woman emerges from the bathroom. She brushes past the attendant, holding a card between her fingers as she peers down at Namjoon. “That was fun. Call me sometime,” she grins while walking away.

“You’re disgusting.” A shiver runs down your spine as one can assume what they were doing in there.

Namjoon gives you puppy eyes. “You’re so mean to me,” he pouts, folding his arms against his chest as he looks down. Not a split second later, he turns to you with a smirk. “I can rock your world whenever you want, angel.”

If only he could see the smoke fuming from your ears. He would never let that one time you slept with him go, would he? It was a moment of weakness you wish you could take back.

You scoff at his comment. “I can’t believe they just let anyone on airplanes now.”

His eyes rake over you. “I could say the same about you,” he retorts.

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

“What do you think I’m doing here, darling?”

Your body cringes at the stupid pet name. “Oh, I don’t know, to annoy the fuck out of me?” you say, flashing a wry smile.

“Ah, yes. That’s on my itinerary too, but you know I can’t resist an all-expenses-paid trip when it’s offered.”

This was your chance to make an impression on one of the biggest publishing houses. But with Kim Namjoon tagging along on this little trip? He will consume your thoughts because you can’t think of anything else when he’s around–plotting and scheming ways to take you down.

“Just stay out of my hair tomorrow.”

Namjoon sucks his teeth. “Wish I could, sweetheart. But, whatever Ms. Davis wants, she gets.”

A part of you wondered if Namjoon was sleeping with her to get to the top of the food chain, like the vulture he is. You shivered at the thought of the two in compromising positions. Namjoon’s college shenanigans were something that continued even into adulthood, you guessed. 

The blinking cursor in this blank Word document has been mocking you, thinking you’re a clown. But you blame Kim Namjoon. He’s pushed his seat back, legs crossed and reclined, hands behind his head as he’s laughing obnoxiously at the movie on his computer screen. Every stifled laugh and clap has you rolling your eyes.

You can’t concentrate when he’s around, and that’s how it’s always been since sophomore year of college. The countless conversations with yourself because you had to be ready with a witty remark in case he is a smart-ass about anything and everything.

It was a sweet relief when you walked across that stage to shake the president’s hand and retrieve the rolled-up paper. And when you lifted your tassel from one side to the other, you exhaled because you never had to cross paths with him again.

That is four years into your job, and who shows up sitting in your office? None other than Kim Namjoon–your old academic rival.

You’re 29. No man should have you gritting your teeth, ready to claw at him. Then again, he’s no ordinary man–more like the devil incarnate. He makes your skin crawl. His presence makes you want to jump out of a window–because he’s suffocating, and the air in your lungs doesn’t exist.

Okay–maybe you’re exaggerating. But right now, you want to spill your glass of red wine just so he’ll have a stained shirt.

Your mouth twists as you nudge the giggly goon head. He takes off the noise-canceling headphones. “What?”

“Can you zip it? I can’t concentrate,” you say, repositioning in your seat.

Namjoon snickers. “Aw baby, you weren’t able to concentrate before I even started the movie. What makes you think me turning it off will help now?”

With a click of your tongue, you’re unsure why you even bothered asking him, so you return to your blinking cursor and blank document.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent into New York City….” the announcement continues.

Guess it didn’t matter, anyway. You’ve spent two hours unproductive on a flight while Namjoon lollygags. At least you’ll have time to work on your presentation in peace when you get to your hotel.

You notice the way he walks and the way his bag is slung over his shoulder-practically about to drop, and you can’t forget the stupid overcoat that’s a tad too big for his frame. The crooked black tie contrasts against the crisp white button-down, and you want to help him fix it, only to make it snug enough to choke him a bit. It’s the way his cheeks lightly push against his thick black-rimmed glasses when he smiles, and his crescent eyes disappear, then immediately he widens them. It’s the way his hair falls perfectly above his glasses, and he daintily moves it away like the unflawed prince he is.

You hate you notice all these details about Kim Namjoon, but you’ve been around him long enough to have your guard up in case he pulls any funny business.

He doesn’t even care to check in at the front desk. Instead, he runs off to the bar when he sees a beautiful woman walking the same way.

You’re third in the check-in line, and you can’t help noticing the crowd hanging out in the lobby. Everyone’s dressed as some kind of anime character. It almost makes you feel underdressed in your plain white tee that’s tucked into your jeans.

A nudge from the side causes you to catch your footing. You clench your jaw before breathing out a sigh of frustration. He’s like a fly that won’t leave you alone.

“Want a sip? I think you could use a drink,” Namjoon says, tipping his glass toward you.

“I don’t drink on business trips.”

“Damn, baby. Lighten up. One drink won’t kill you,” he raises a brow and smirks. “Maybe it’ll even warm you up to me.”

If only your eyes could shoot laser beams every time he opened his smart mouth. Facing him, you took a step toward him, pretending to pick off lint from his coat. “It’s cute you think I’d warm up to you,” you pout.

Namjoon gives a lopsided grin, licking his lips. “Don’t worry, love. I’m sure we’ll become real cozy.”

When it’s your turn at the front desk, the receptionist flashes a warm smile, asking for your information. “Is this man with you as well?”

“No,” you say.

“Yes,” Namjoon chimes in.

You roll your eyes, glaring at the man who is the bane of your existence. “No. Nope,” you say, shaking your head. “He is not with me. He needs his own room.”

The receptionist doesn’t respond. She types and clicks around on the computer, her eyes darting around the screen. “I’m sorry ma’am, but it looks like we only have one room left,” she says, avoiding your gaze.

“What do you mean there’s only one room left?” you articulate, gritting your teeth.

The receptionist clicks around her screen again. “Again, I’m so sorry, ma’am. But we’re overbooked because of the anime convention in town. We can book this room for the two of you or give you a free hotel stay for another time to compensate for the inconvenience.”

Free hotel stay for another time? It wasn’t an option at the moment. You needed this hotel room to prepare for your presentation tomorrow.

Someone cosplaying as Sailor Moon walks past you and Namjoon. His elbows are propped on the counter as he faces toward the lobby. He turns to you. “Guess we’ll just have to share,” he raises a brow and licks his lips.

“You cannot think I’ll sleep in the same bed as him. I’d rather burn in hell instead.”

Namjoon turns to the receptionist. “She’s joking. She doesn’t want to sleep in the same bed because she knows she can’t control herself around me,” he grins, holding his hand out for the key card. “We’ll take what you have, love.”

You grumble, muttering curses under your breath as you grab your things, heading toward the elevator. First, he shows up unannounced, and now you have to share a room with him. Let alone a bed? What’s next? He’ll take over your presentation, you bet.

Namjoon whistles a cheerful tune while strolling down the hallway. How is he like a ray of sunshine right now? But to you, he is like a lingering cloud ready to rain on your parade.

When he reaches the door, he turns to you, still whistling, tapping the keycard against the sensor. The door almost slams in your face. You’re struggling to keep the heavy door open while dragging in your luggage.

“Really?” You huff with irritation in your voice.

Your eyes follow him as he makes himself comfortable on the bed. He’s lying down, his legs are dangling off as his feet touch the floor. And you hope the phone screen illuminating his honey skin drops on his face. You’re vile, you know. But Namjoon’s like an itch you can’t seem to reach.

Setting down your things, you walk over to him, slotting yourself between his legs, arms folded against your chest. “What are you doing in my bed?”

He chuckles, placing the phone beside him. He props himself up on his elbows, eyes raking over you. “Waiting for you to hop on, baby,” he sneers, patting his thigh.

How are you supposed to get any work done if he’s around invading the very air you breathe?

“In your dreams, Joon. You’re sleeping on the couch.”

“Oh, baby girl. You don’t even wanna know what you do in my dreams.”

His dreams, huh? You’ve wondered how many times you’ve shown up. “Let me guess, am I strangling you?”

Namjoon sits up, pushing himself off the bed to stand. It forces you to take a step back. There’s a moment of silence before he speaks, “Actually, you’re the one who likes it, remember? Not me, princess.”

You’re inches away from him and you hope he doesn’t see you visibly gulp. It’s like everything is stripped away when Namjoon’s around. As much as you try to hide it, you hope he can’t see through your bullshit.

Clicking your tongue, you try to compose yourself, tilting your head as you gaze into those dragon eyes. “Keep dreaming, Joonie because that’s the closest you’ll ever come to fucking me.”

“Again—” he corrects you. His gaze turns dark as he scans you from head to toe. He grasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Come on, love. Don’t you want another taste?”

You roll your eyes, pushing away his hand. “Another taste of Kim Namjoon?” you tut. “Please—I eat boys like you for breakfast.”

A stupid grin spreads across Namjoon’s face. His scent invades your space again, making you step back. “Well, I’ll be sure to serve you breakfast in bed tomorrow. I hear the sausage is great.”

You huff a breath, glaring at the tall, beefy man. “I swear to god, Kim Namjoon if you don’t stay on your side of the bed—there’s gonna be hell to pay!”

Namjoon puts his hands up in defeat. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll keep my package safe, but it's cute you think your mouth is big enough for me.” He raises a brow, gently nibbling on his bottom lip.

You scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself, Joon. Always talking a big game, but you gotta put your money where your mouth is love.” You almost retch as the last word rolls off your tongue.

The night you slept with Namjoon was a hazy one. You blame the wine that was coursing through your veins and the critique you received from your professor—it messed with your head and you wanted nothing more than to get your mind off it. Namjoon was in the right place at the right time—annoying you like always. Naturally, he wouldn’t shut up, so you shut him up. One thing led to another and before you knew it, you had slept with your rival.

Walking away, you grab your bag, breathing a sigh of relief once you’re out of the room. It’s a stupid game the two of you have played since college—he riles you up, and you retaliate, but you would try your best to not let him get to you. 

You spent the last few hours sitting in the hotel’s bar, with headphones on as you clicked and clacked away at your laptop, finally getting your thoughts onto this Word document. There’s no music playing. You wanted to drown out the noise of the crowd.

As you’re facing out toward the lobby, you look up, glimpsing the bane of your existence, Kim Namjoon. You watch as he makes his way out of the hotel lobby, and now is your chance to sneak back up to the room and have some quiet for once.

When Namjoon’s out of view, you gather your things, making your way back up. As the door closes, a breath expels from your lips and you can finally breathe again.

Sitting down at the small table, your stomach growls, a reminder that you had ignored for the past hour because this presentation was more important than nourishment. You’re more than halfway finished, and your reward would be a delicious meal.

It’s nearly 9 o’clock, and your meal is nowhere in sight. The outline is finished, talking points are ready to go, but your laptop is dead, and with your luck, you forgot to pack the charger.

You want nothing more than to disappear and crawl into a hole and never come out of it. You’re ready to jump ship without a lifejacket—it’s practically what you’re doing going into this presentation. If only you had more time to prep instead of being thrown into this so last minute. Maybe you shouldn’t have told your boss you’re always ready for whatever’s thrown your way.

The rumbling in your stomach continues, but you’d rather wallow in self-deprecating thoughts than fill your belly with a delicious meal.

Why can’t things go your way for once?

As you’re sitting on the couch beside the window, a sprinkle of rain falls, and it’s perfect, actually–matching your exact mood. You place your chin against the jade-green velvet-colored couch, breathing a sigh of frustration.

How are you meant to get others to care when you're apathetic about why you got into this profession in the first place? You remember discovering your first author and how they made you kick your feet and giggle all night. The feeling of watching someone grow from a small audience into a commercial success made you love your job, and when you and an author are on the same wavelength and both so passionate about a story? You were unmatched when the stars aligned.

But this trip was a different story. You had been working with this author, but Ms. Davis asked Namjoon to chime in, and once something is in Namjoon’s hands, it’s never yours again. It was like a repeat of your college years.

So when Ms. Davis asked you to fill in for Namjoon, you jumped at the chance because you had missed this story and this author, and you hoped Namjoon didn’t distort the beautiful story and world that she had built. You get why everyone fawns over Namjoon. Admitting it crushes your soul just a tad, but he’s smart, charming, suave, and not that bad to look at. You just wished he’d let you have a win now and again. You’re tired of being second best.

When you hear a beep from the door, you sigh, throwing your head back. You don’t acknowledge your roommate for the night and instead focus on the rain droplets hitting the window. Pulling your knees toward your chest, your arms rest on them along with your head as you stare outside. You’re not in the mood to deal with Namjoon right now.

A delectable aroma fills your nose when Namjoon’s presence occupies your space. He sets something next to your feet while on the couch. You look at the box and then at him.

“What’s this?”

“You need to eat.”

“I already ate,” you lie, and your stomach growled, loud enough you’re sure Namjoon heard it too. You make a face, clenching your stomach, hoping it doesn’t do it again.

“Just eat,” he says, bending down to grab the box for you.

“Is this your way of poisoning me, so you can do the presentation tomorrow?”

Namjoon scoffs. “No, actually. It’s me being a decent human being. I saw you at the bar, and I know how you are when you’re in work mode. You forget to eat.”

There’s a fire rising in your chest, and you want nothing more than to be left alone. “I didn’t think the devil had a heart,” you quip back. It’s easier when he isn’t, makes you feel less of an ass—and so much for not being in the mood to argue.

He tuts. “Why are you always like this? Even when we were in school together. You’ve always hated me.”

Maybe it’s how everything’s been handed to him on a silver platter–like how he doesn’t have to work his ass off just to get a sliver of recognition. Maybe it’s because he could be the good guy, but he chooses otherwise. Maybe it’s because somehow he always shows up wherever you are, ready to take things from you.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“Fine, starve. I don’t even know why I tried.”

You groaned. “Can you just go away? You’re so annoying.”

“Me? Annoying? You’ve had a stick up your ass ever since you saw me on the plane, and I haven’t done shit to you. I’m here out of courtesy for our boss. What am I supposed to do? Say no?”

“Yeah! You should’ve.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “God–there’s no winning with you, is there?”

You ignore his comment, shifting in your seat, eyes focused on the rain again.

His jaw clenched as he backed off. “I was trying to be nice–break the ice, but it’s useless when I keep hitting a wall with you. See you later. I need a drink.”

Your eyes squeeze shut when the door slams. Sometimes you wonder if you’re too harsh or if you channeled your hatred toward something else, if it would benefit you more. But this was the circus of you and Namjoon–mortal rivals, nothing less, nothing more.

It’s well past midnight when you illuminate your phone for the third time. You’ve been tossing and turning, panicking about tomorrow’s presentation. Maybe you’d have to forgo using a slideshow and go off your outline. Graphic design isn’t your passion anyway because Canva was your best friend for presentation templates.

You had prepared yourself for having to share a bed with Namjoon, but you can’t help but notice that he hasn’t returned from wherever he went. You wonder if this was it–if it was the final straw for him, with you and your bitchy attitude.

As you’re on your phone, going over your outline, a beep from the door alerts you that Namjoon is back. You quickly stuff your phone underneath your pillow, turning in the opposite direction with your back facing him.

“Yeah, mom. Don’t worry. I’ll be back.” His voice softens when he sees the lights are out.

An indistinct voice is heard from the other end, but you close your eyes, pretending to be fast asleep.

“Yes, I have it on my calendar and already asked for the days off. I’ll be back before your surgery.”

You feel bad listening in on his conversation and even worse when you realize his mother is having surgery.

Namjoon hums. “I love you too, Mom. I’ll see you next week. Mm–bye.”

He sets his phone down and cards his hand through his dark hair, but it softly falls back in place. You can hear him ruffling through his bag before he walks off to what you guess is the bathroom to wash up.

You turn over when there’s a sudden ache in your side. Your eyes open to see the light shining from underneath the door, and he’s pacing around as he brushes his teeth.

When the water shuts off, he opens the door, turning off the light. The darkened curtains eliminate all light sources in the room, save for the bit peeking through from the moonlight shining on him, revealing his broad shoulders and honey-skin chest. Thank god it’s dark, otherwise if Namjoon saw you ogling him, he’d have a field day. But the gawking ends when he slips on a shirt.

You shift back to the side that’s still aching and Namjoon slips under the cover, keeping his distance. You’re facing away from him, and you can’t help but hear the frustration when he huffs a breath.

Of course, the stupid ache doesn’t dissipate, and you’re back on your side, facing Namjoon. You peek an eye open. His phone is dimly lit before he turns it off, setting it on his chest. Both of his hands are laced behind his head as he stares at the ceiling, and you’re fighting the urge to say something.

What you overheard was personal, something you weren’t meant to hear. After all these years of being academic rivals and co-workers, you knew little about his life except that he was a trust fund baby and had a younger sister.

“Namjoon?” You quietly croak out.

He quickly gazes in your direction. “Sorry—did I wake you? I didn’t mean to.”

“No, I couldn’t sleep, and then I heard you come in.”

A muttered apology escapes his lips along with ‘Night,’ as he turns on his side, facing away from you.

His demeanor is different, almost as if he’s let down his guard. You’ve never seen him distraught before.

“Namjoon?”

He hums but doesn’t turn around to face you.

“Is everything okay with your mom?”

Namjoon clears his throat. “Yeah, she’s okay. At least, I hope so.”

You’re nibbling on your bottom lip. “I couldn’t help but overhear she’s having surgery?”

“Oh—yeah, we, um, recently found out she has breast cancer and has to have a mastectomy.”

“Joon,” you utter. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he stammers, shifting himself into a more comfortable position. “Everything happened so fast, and I feel like I haven’t had time to process my thoughts. I’m trying my best to stay strong, you know?”

You place your hand under your cheek as you’re staring at his backside. The two of you stay silent for a moment.

“I get that,” you say, lying on your back, bringing the duvet to cover you. “Um, my mom also went through breast cancer a few years ago, if it’s any consolation, I suppose breast cancer is one of the better ones to have? If that’s such a thing—I mean, there’s a lot of research that’s gone into it, and there’s so much support out there if she wants it. So, um, yeah, just keep your head up. Your mom will be okay.”

Namjoon mumbles, “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

He doesn’t turn to you, and you don’t blame him. You have been a bit of an ass to him, but you’re not made of stone—there’s a heart buried somewhere inside.

Flipping on your side, your backs are facing one another, and you hear a sniffle. Immediately, you turn back, hesitant about being in this position. In the time you’ve known Namjoon, he’s never cried in front of you. There are more sniffles, and you can hear him holding back whatever’s caught in his throat.

Your heart’s racing, your breath is slow and controlled. You shift closer to him, removing the pillow you had placed in the middle to separate the two of you.

“Joon?”

He wipes his nose and clears his throat. “Yeah?”

“Would it be okay if I hugged you?”

Namjoon hums in agreement, and you take it upon yourself to inch closer to him. Somehow he seems so much smaller when you’re this close. You snake your arm underneath him, wrapping it around his waist, pressing your body against his. It takes a moment for him to register what’s happening, and then his hand finds yours, entwining them together.

You’ve been where he has and any kind of surgery is scary, especially when it’s a loved one. Your mind can only wander to the worst-case scenarios.

Your bodies are in sync as you can feel his chest rise and fall. But his breath is ragged and shaky. You suppose he’s fighting off any tears threatening to fall.

“You can tell me to fuck off.”

He chuckles. “No, I like this. It feels nice.”

Your mind finally settled during the night, and you could fall asleep. Namjoon’s snores were your alarm clock this morning. The weight of his arm draped over your waist. It was a familiar feeling—just like the day after you had slept with him. Only this time, all your clothes were on, and there was no accompanying headache.

Peering over your shoulder, he was still fast asleep, so this was your chance to sneak away. You were hoping to go over your presentation a few more times before your meeting today with the publisher. But as soon, as you decide to slip away, a buzzing from Namjoon’s side causes you to close your eyes and pretend like you weren’t trying to get up.

It buzzes a few times before Namjoon stirs awake, fumbling around to find his phone. “Hello?” he says in a groggy, raspy voice.

You shift away from him, snuggling underneath the duvet. The conversation is indistinct, and you can’t hear anything but Namjoon’s responses.

“Wait—” Namjoon sits up, turning away from you, his feet planted on the ground. “You want me to do what?”

He’s frustrated by whatever he was told.

“No, I can’t do that to her.” He quickly peers in your direction, and he sees you fast asleep. The voice on the other line continues along with Namjoon’s frustration. He’s rubbing his temple and sighs. “Please don’t make me do this. She already hates me as is.”

You can’t help but wonder who’s on the other line and who the ‘she’ is.

Namjoon shakes his head, and his voice quiets down. “She’s been working so hard on this presentation. I can’t just take this from her.”

Your heart sinks when you realize he’s talking about you. There’s no one else doing a presentation, and Namjoon was working with this author before they were handed back to you.

“Okay, okay. I’ll let her know,” he said dejectedly. Namjoon doesn’t even say goodbye. He’s crouched over, elbows on his knees as his head hangs low.

The soft chimes of your alarm go off. You wait a few seconds before reaching for your phone to silence it. Sitting up, you glance over at Namjoon who’s looking right at you.

“Morning. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, my alarm woke me up,” you say before flipping the duvet over. You stand, smoothing down your hair. “Big presentation today. I should get ready for the day.”

You’re ready to run to the bathroom, but Namjoon stops you. “Um, about that.”

Slowly, you turn to him. “What about it?”

Namjoon’s hands are entwined, and his thumbs fiddled out of nervousness. “Ms. Davis called and wants me to do the presentation.”

You suck in your lower lip, gently chewing on it. “But I worked on it like a madwoman last night. Why would Ms. Davis ask me to do it and then go back to asking you?”

A buzzing from your phone interrupts you. The screen flashes ‘Ms. Davis.’ You peer at Namjoon, then answer the phone. “Hello? Ms. Davis?”

“Good morning, ____. I hope you slept well.”

You hum in response.

“I know I asked you to go to New York, but now that Namjoon is there. I think it’ll be better if he does the presentation. He just has a way with words, and I think he’ll be able to land this deal, don’t you think?”

Namjoon avoids your gaze by scrolling on his phone. You remember Namjoon’s words from the day before, ‘What Ms. Davis wants, Ms. Davis gets.’

You take a moment before responding. “Why yes, Ms. Davis, I agree. Namjoon would be perfect for this presentation.”

She continues about supporting him in whatever way he needs today, and you’re seething like a teakettle that’s ready to burst. You agree with everything she says.

“Mmhm, yes. I’ll make sure he has everything he needs.”

You bid her a chipper farewell before hanging up. Your phone’s clenched in your hand, and your chest is heaving. Thoughts are running rampant—you’re ready to quit on the spot.

Licking your lips, you look at Namjoon. “Well, good luck with your presentation today. Don’t ruin it for our author and Ms. Davis.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “No–you worked hard on it. You should do it.”

You scoff. “Don’t act like you don’t want to take this from me, Joon. It’s what you’re good at. You always get your way—just like when we were in school and now even at work. No matter how hard I work for everything, you’re there to reap the reward.”

His jaw clenches. He stands, walking to you. “You’re so fucking exhausting,” he spits out. “You think I’m some guy who’s out to get you or wants the worst for you–it’s like whatever preconceived notion you’ve fabricated has overlooked the fact that I’m a pretty decent guy if you could get past whatever thing that I’ve done to tick you off.” He sighs. “I’m telling you to do the presentation, but here you are blaming me.”

The warmth from his body is scorching as he nears you–it matches the energy firing inside you. Here he is, allowing you to shoot your shot, but you’re stubborn and temperamental.

Your gaze pierces through him. “Do whatever you want, Joon. I quit.”

Quickly, you gather your things, stuffing them into your carry-on. You know how ridiculous it sounds, but Kim Namjoon tends to bring out your foolishness. You’ve had seven years of him right by your side, which was too many for you. Maybe it was time to find a private island with no form of communication to escape him.

Namjoon doesn’t stop you, he lets you leave. He knows how strong-willed you are and once you’ve decided, there’s no changing it.

You wash up in the hotel lobby’s restroom, rushing off to nowhere because well–you had quit and home was two hours away by flight and it wasn’t leaving until tonight.

Cars and buses screech to a halt along with the sounds of never-ending honking. Chattering from tourists and bicyclists whiz by your side. There’s never a dull moment so you can get your head on straight. 

A buzzing from your bag goes unnoticed because you’re too busy figuring out the next steps. You don’t know what you’re doing. Quitting, so suddenly? Was it out of spite? If you couldn’t even handle Namjoon, how would you handle the next prick that came along? 

You held your arm out, trying to hail a cab, but no one stopped. Well, it was probably the worst time to grab one, anyway. Checking your phone, you noticed a missed call and a voicemail, and it wasn’t from anyone you were expecting.

It was from Noa Skye, the author you were trying to get published.

“Hey ____. I know I’ve been working with Namjoon for the last several months, but when I heard that you’re doing the meeting with HarperCollins instead, I screamed! I know you’ll be able to pitch my book well because you love this story as much as I do. So, yeah, I just wanted to call and wish you good luck. You’re going to do great. Talk to you soon!”

Your heart sank to your stomach when you heard Noa’s voicemail. It was true–you loved her story, and you wanted the entire world to read it so they could laugh and cry along with you. Her book deserved to be on bookshelves and New York’s best-seller list.

Should you buck up the courage and walk in with your head held high? And for once, maybe Namjoon was right–that you were looking for someone to blame and he was conveniently the scapegoat.

Noa deserved better than this ongoing battle between you and Namjoon; maybe more you than him–but regardless, you needed to set aside your ego for the sake of your author.

Huffing out a deep breath, you pulled your hair back, ready to fight for this presentation.

Namjoon was typing furiously, looking through his previous notes on Noa’s novel. He wished he had spoken to you about what you had outlined to get a better grasp. You and Noa had been working on her novel for a couple of months before Namjoon came into the picture. Surely, he knew how to charm the pants off publishers, but sometimes he felt like you captured the heart of these stories better than he did.

You’re jabbing the number seven several times, encouraging the elevator doors to close. Looking at your phone, there’s half an hour before the presentation. You hoped it was enough time to sort things out with Namjoon and go over your outline.

Turning the corner, you find Namjoon sitting with a laptop. He looks up, almost relieved when he sees you, but of course, he doesn’t make it known.

“Thought you quit,” he says when you’re near.

You flash a thin smile, sitting beside him. “I never waste a moment where I can rescue you, because it looks like you need my help.” A glimpse of a nearly empty page proves your point.

In normal Namjoon fashion, he’s ready to bite back, but he holds his tongue. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “You can say ‘thanks’ and I’ll call it even.” He mumbles something indistinct and you cup your hand up to your ear. “I’m sorry. I can’t hear you over the sound of your ego.”

His shoulders slump, and he cocks his head. “Thanks, ___. I owe you one.”

Wiggling in your chair, you’re smiling proudly because this is the first genuine show of gratitude from Kim Namjoon.

“Here’s what I have. Can you tell me what you and Noa have been working on?”

Even without visuals, you felt the presentation went well and did Noa justice with her novel. Namjoon was another surprise. He didn’t interrupt, waited until you finished before adding in his two cents.

Although the presentation and trip to New York were short and sweet, it was eye-opening for you because you had been toying with the idea of opening up a literary agency. The sound of being your own boss sounded lovely.

“We did good, huh?” Namjoon says as he stands beside you.

“We?” You quirk an eyebrow.

He tilts his head. “You. You did a good job.”

You stand proud outside of the hotel’s driveway as the two of you wait for an Uber. “I know. I always save the day.”

Namjoon chuckles. “Well, have a good flight back home.”

Whipping your head back to him, your brows stitched in confusion. “Are you not going back to Chicago?”

He shakes his head. “My mom’s surgery got moved up, so I’m flying straight to Seoul. I’ll be back in Chicago in two weeks.”

“Oh,” you mumble. “I hope everything goes well.”

“Thanks,” he flashes a small smile. A car pulls up to him. “Looks like my ride's here. I’ll see you.”

Namjoon grabs his carry-on, ready to leave, but you stop him. “Joon–” He turns back around. “I’m sorry about what happened this morning. You’re right. I haven’t treated you nicely and have blamed you for a lot of things over the years, and it’s no one’s fault, but my own. I hope things go well with your mom, and if you ever need anyone to talk to, you can call me.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Call you, hmm?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t, actually.”

“Just–” you groan. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t even know why I tried.”

Namjoon lets go of his carry-on and walks back to you. “I’m messing with you.” He chuckles lowly, taking another step closer to you. He lifts your chin with his forefinger, his dragon eyes gazing into yours. “It’s our thing, isn’t it? You hate me, I hate you. We find some kind of common ground, then fall in love. Isn’t that in all the books we read?”

You lick your lips and nod, pointing to yourself. “Me? Fall in love with you? Don’t push your luck, Joon.”

--

read 'under the mistletoe' (a don't push your luck drabble)

#namjoon fanfic #namjoon fic #rm fic #rm fanfic #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenario #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts x you

[chrollohearttags]

𝕽𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖇 • 𝕰. 𝕵𝖆𝖊𝖌𝖊𝖗: chapter two

synopsis: for as long as he could remember, eren jaeger’s only concern and love was his music..despising fame and all that came with it. That was until he was forced into a club appearance by their mutual manager and met (y/n) (l/n), a renowned pole dancer and social media’s newest rising star. After a picture of the pair together begins circulating, they find themselves at the center of a rumor mill. But with the two forming a fast friendship, will they feed into the speculation or will the rapper’s less than welcoming nature push her away?

cw: inappropriate and heavy language, drug use (mainly weed), mentions of sexual content and nudity, FaceTime (implied phone sex and masturbation), eren being a flirt, pole dancing (not stripping though), small mentions of sex toys

wc: 5.8K

📝: y’all, I’ve been enjoying this story so much, obviously. I’m going to try for weekly updates (either Saturday or Sunday) also, if you’d like to be added to the tag list for future chapters, please comment or reblog to let me know!

“Babygirl, I don’t dabble in what ifs and rumors..little too grown for all that shit. I let people believe what they want because I don’t care. As for as you and I, if you really wanna give ‘em something to talk about and make ‘em mad, then keep fucking with me..I’ll make it fun.”

prev chapter > next chapter

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“Alright, let’s take a break right here and then we’ll run it back one more time. You’re doing great, bro. I’m loving it so far.”

the rapper could be seen nodding behind the plexiglass partition to Eren, who was talking over a microphone as he removed his head seat to pause for an intermission. For some reason or another, the famed producer seemed to be in a much better mood than he was during the previous session.

either way, he’d take this version of him over the temperamental one any day and while he was letting him rest, he’d go grab him some water. just then, the red light and buzzer, signaling that someone else was trying to enter his little lair, sounded off above the ceiling.

he’d flip the switch to unlock the door, because people loved to walk in unannounced and interrupt him so he had to remedy it. He knew it wouldn’t be long before someone came to disturb his peace and progress..

“Mr. Jaeger, Mr. Jaeger…are you in here?”

spinning around in his chair, Eren would be greeted by his wiry, red haired, hard working assistant. Who, as always, was a basket case and didn’t want to disturb his boss while he was busy. But what really annoyed him was the way he greeted him. “Floch, dude. Chill with all that ‘mister’ shit. We’re like a year apart, you can call me Eren. It’s cool, I promise.”

what he didn’t realize was that it just reminded him too much of his asshole doctor of a dad. And being remotely referred to in any capacity the same as that man, made him want to claw his own eyes out..regardless, Floch would apologize and he’d ask him to state his business so he could get back to work.

“Right, sorry sir. Well in any case, I just wanted to bring you this. Came through your email this morning..offers from like six different clubs to do an appearance, GQ and Elle both want to do interviews with you. For Ten Favorite Things and Song Association.” But if he knew anything about his employer, every last one of those were about to be declined with a quickness.

releasing a heavy sigh, the producer reclined in his seat and just shook his head.

“Dude, you already know the answer to this shit. The answer is no. And not just no, hell no.”

“I know and I apologize, but—“

but before that question could he given a proper answer, another voice intervened and interrupted their talk.

“I told him to accept them. Looks like you have a busy week ahead, buddy.”

it was none other than the maverick herself, and she seemed to be all smiles..which frightened both of them! “M-miss Ackerman!How’d you get in here?!” Floch muttered nervously, knowing better than to question her but still curious all the same.

but the musician surely wasn’t afraid to ask.

“Yes, Mikasa. That’s a good question, why the hell are you walking in my studio like you pay bills here? Better yet, why are you volunteering me for more bullshit?”

she was as much of a powerhouse as ever; intimidating and afraid of nothing, including the brown haired brat sitting in that chair. Dressed in a more casual outfit than her normal thousand dollar Givenchy and Giuseppe’s, she’d just smirk and help herself to one of the empty seats.

“Didn’t we just go over this like three days ago or are you just pretending to be stupid?”

one thing about her was that she would always meet him where he was at. If he took it low, she’d go to hell and wouldn’t stop until she won. As with everyone. You’d be a damn fool to ever challenge Mikasa to anything. She was a third generation talent in the music industry and next heiress in line to take over AMG, Ackerman Management Group.

they were the premier record label and talent agency that everyone wanted to work with. They were notorious for getting some of the biggest names their start but working hard all the same.

founded by her great uncle, Kenny, who was a popular rock singer back in the day and taken over by his son and her uncle, Levi. Who was even far more ruthless than she could ever be! he wasn't a fan of the rapper’s lackadaisical attitude in the slightest so he told her to make him get his act together or get his ass out the door. Needless to say, she didn’t want it to result in the latter. Hence why she was here.

“I’ve got a dress fitting at twelve and a meeting with my wedding planner after that so let’s make this quick. And I’d prefer if we could do it privately.” Talking bluntly as she scrolled through her Apple Watch, pecking at the screen. It didn’t take long for Floch to get a clue and kick rocks.

he’d take being on his boss’ shit list over hers any day.

regardless, he could care less and both of them to beat it so he could continue recording..once the two of them were alone, Eren stuffed his hands in his hoodie pocket and gave her a deadpan expression.

“I’m just gonna take a wild guess and say you aren’t here for a friendly chat.” “Correct again. There is more than wind between those little ears of yours.”

he really wasn’t in the mood for her nonsense so she better had made this quick! Whatever it was…

“I’m here because one, Ms. Hange asked me to send her personal regards and this…said that her club has been packed full every night since you performed and she’d love to have you back.”

handing him an envelope with a check in the amount of ninety five thousand dollars. When you were a huge name of his caliber, it came with a hefty price tag! She wasn’t mad though, because she made a couple million easily that night..the second thing on the docket though, was a tad bit more personal and something she needed to know.

it had been a week since that show and since he met (y/n), who was all over Twitter and Instagram, going viral for the simple fact she was spotted with him. And Mikasa would be damned if he screwed up this poor girl’s career this early on.

“Speaking of..you mind explaining why you and my new client are playing footsies in VIP for the entire internet to see?”

scratching her forehead as she pulled her phone up to show him the picture that had been circulating social media heavily. Which he probably knew nothing about since he never checked those damn things anyways. Poor (y/n) was probably being bombarded with more questions and threats than she knew what to do with.

“I know that shit was your idea, Eren. You get a rise out of sending people into a panic so you probably told her to kiss you. Am I right or am I right?”

without so much as another word, she just let out a frustrated huff. “So goddamned predictable..”

she was incredibly annoyed and hadn’t even been there for five minutes.

“Please don’t tell me you fu—“

“No!..what type of man do you take me for?”

“A slut, because that’s what’s you are!”

taken aback in complete offense as he playfully grabbed his chest!

she knew him well enough that he wasn’t the type to do a million random hookups but he was also a huge flirt and could charm the pants off of a snake. Which telling by that photo and the videos, it was obvious that he had this girl wrapped around his finger and vice versa so she wouldn’t be surprised if something came of it..

and he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t feeling (y/n)…you were stunning, funny, sweet and had all types of sex appeal. Honestly, had you been the one initiating it, he definitely would’ve hit on the first night.

“Look, I’m not telling you what to do with your life but I am telling you not to get this girl caught up in some weird nonsense. She’s got a bright future ahead of her and the last thing she needs is to be messed up by the industry’s favorite misfit.”

rolling his eyes, Eren leaned back in his chair before grabbing his water bottle.

truth be told, the only thing on his mind was making music and getting this album finished. He didn’t have time to lay up with you or anybody else.

“Mika, if I wanted a lecture, I’d go call my mom and let her bitch at me. Thank you for the check but I promise, you don’t have to worry about anything. I barely know the girl, we did as you asked and that was it. Now if you’d be so kind as to get the hell out so I can finish working, I'd be very grateful.”

at this point, it was the best thing. He was hard headed as hell and knew he’d go against her out of spite. Still, a small part of her was happy to see him smiling for once and if you had managed to bring that side out for just a moment, then she was fine.

“Fine, I’ll leave you and your rat’s nest to it. Just remember what I said.”

demanding as she rose from her seat and began to leave. But of course, he couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease her. They were best friends before they were manager and client.

“Yeah whatever..hey, speaking of rats, where’s your ugly fiancé?”

clicking her tongue into her cheek, Mikasa just rolled her eyes and dismissed the comment. She knew that they didn’t and probably would never get along but she also knew Eren was an asshole.

“You’re such a jackass, I swear.” declaring before turning on her heel and heading towards the door.

“You know he got a face that can’t be seen in the daylight. You’re gonna scare my neighbors.” cracking up as he joked on the rival artist.

all he received in return is a middle finger from his manager! “I love you, Mika!” she was so used to his annoying behavior that she just tuned out half the time. Now that she had left though, it was time to get back to what really mattered and that was working his magic on another project.

just then, his friend and fellow rapper, Connie Springer reentered the studio, ready to finish out the second half of this session.

“Aye bro, you ready?” He’d ask from behind the partition as he placed his headphones back on. However, there was one thing Eren needed to take care of beforehand. Grabbing his phone, he’d scroll and search for a particular contact..one that hadn’t left his head since Saturday.

he couldn’t believe that someone actually had his attention..and he hated it! But still, it’d be nice to hear from you again.

staring at the screen for just a minute, he’d contemplate sending the message he had typed before setting it down and getting back to the grind.

“Yeah, I’m ready, bro. Let’s run that last shit back.”

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰───────✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰

meanwhile, somewhere a couple states away, (y/n) was working diligently on your craft as well. Preparing to perform alongside the headliner for a music festival and you had to ensure that not only yourself but the entire collective was on their A-Game.

“Alright, we all go up on three count, heel click at five and come down on eight. Got it?”

a group of five other ladies looked back at you and nodded with reassurance as you stood before them in front of the pole classroom at the Allure Dance Studio. The premier studio where you and your team had practiced for many years now.

The Pole Assassins consisted of yourself, Janae James, Syrai Hughes, Kellie Grant, Niesha Daniels and Brianne Scott. Some of the most talented performers; some of them well versed in a multitude of dance styles and having served as backup for so many artists..ranging from SZA, Megan The Stallion to Rihanna and many other household names.

although there was a huge misconception that all of you were just strippers turned social media stars, that wasn’t the case. Granted, there wasn’t a single thing wrong with that because Syrai and Brianne did happen to get their start at the infamous Blue Flame in Atlanta.

regardless of where all of you came from, you were here now and getting backup performers their much deserved recognition.

in another year’s tops, you wanted to organize your own tour..traveling across the country to show off the illustrious skills and art of pole. Help break the stigma and bias towards the trade..

but at the moment, duty called and there was so much to do before the show in a couple days. At the moment though, what you all could use was a much needed break! “Alright y’all, let’s rest for thirty and then get back to it.”

all the ladies exhaled a sigh of relief and dispersed for the time being. That was all except one..your best and closest friend, Niesha. Everyone on the team had a close bond and considered yourselves sisters but you and Niesha had known each other since childhood.

she lingered around, taking a sip from her water bottle before collapsing near her designated pole.

“Damn bitch, I knew you worked hard but you straight slave driving us today.”

joking as you walked towards her, playfully swinging a towel at her. You couldn’t help but laugh because your reputation as a perfectionist preceded you. Everything you put your name on was done to the precise tee or not at all!

and although the rest of them were gracious for your hard work and leadership, they were no stranger to that obsessive behavior and rigorous training.

“Was I that bad?” muttering and giggling as you took a seat next to her.

“Nah baby, you good..but the last time I saw you go this hard, you were fighting with your ex nigga and your family. What’s on your mind?”

Niesha was the jokester of the troupe but she was also a sweetheart. She never let any of you have a bad day or stay there for long..releasing a sigh, you’d take a swig of the chilled water, positioning yourself on the backs of your seven inch clear Pleasers.

“I’m good, I’m just trying to make sure we do this right, ‘s all. I want us on that next level so I’m pushing hard this year.”

Niesha would nod, seconding the sentiment. She knew you well enough to know that was the case but also, couldn’t help but feel as though something else was at play here..clicking her tongue in her cheek, she’d smirk and glare over at you.

“Yeah..or the fact that you all over the internet right now and you’re trying to forget it.” And there it was. She had called your bluff yet again..as a true best friend would! Doubling over in laughter, she’d watch your expression change and couldn’t help but to cackle about it.

if it’s one thing she knew about you, it was that this fame thing would never quite register. Unlike her and the rest of the girls, you did not attend these industry parties or accept hotel room invitations.

once whatever job you were hired for was finished, you were the first to dip..you didn’t get starstruck or fawn over the million different famous faces. You simply wanted to dance and that was that. But if there was one person that stance was broken for..it was the man who was featured in the circulating photo with you.

but it was bittersweet, considering the fact that every other comment was basically alluding to the fact that y’all were fucking or that you needed his name for some half assed attempt at getting clout. Which was a complete lie because in the entire week you had known him, you only spoke for a little while before your work pulled you both away. There was no agenda or networking..just a nice vibe and you wanted it to stay that way.

“Girl, ion know why you even tripping. That man is so fine, I wouldn’t give a fuck about what these people got to say. Especially the way he was all up on you? Chile, you a better woman than me..I know I would’ve folded.” that’s exactly why you loved her! She was your exact opposite and afraid of nothing. Shame and judgment didn’t exist and she lived everyday to the fullest, doing whatever made Niesha happy.

smacking your lips, you’d dismiss her argument. As right as she was, you couldn’t allow yourself to get carried away.

it wasn’t as if something would come of the little exchange. It was a job and nothing more. By now, you were certain he had forgotten all about you and was on to the next model or singer on his roster. meanwhile, you were being called a ho and clout addict by the illiterate rap pages and bloggers..not to mention his hormonal fangirls who probably had a shrine of him in their bedrooms.

you heard the rumors about how he operated but you couldn’t help but feel that they were just that: rumors.

because he didn’t do a million interviews or put his business on front street, these shady reporters did the next best thing and constructed lies to get their clout and coins up.

“Be for real, Niesha. You know that man probably doesn't even remember me. Besides, he only did that because they were taking pictures and annoying him.”

“Right. And if I was you, I would’ve gave they asses something to snap. You had Eren fucking Jaeger touching all over you in the middle of the club and didn’t give that man no pussy? You crazy. Listen, they would’ve just had to hate me.” all you could do was laugh at this point because she was serious and you had to respect it..at least she was honest!

“Do you hear yourself right now? I don’t care who it is, I’m not fucking on no random man after only three hours of knowing him. He was real sweet, we had a good time…even smoked a lil’ bit after the club but that’s as far as it went and will go. I’m not ‘bout to be on the front page of TheShadeRoom every week, fighting hoes in the comments. Not over him or nobody else.”

she knew there was no changing your mind but she considered the fact that you had been going hard non stop since you all had made it big. No breaks, no relaxations and damn sure no man in your life..tapped into multiple lines of work but never taking time for (y/n).

so what if he did one night you? That the two of you would’ve gone back to your hotel and let him put those lyrics to the test? No one would have cared or blamed you for doing so. You were a young woman, a very beautiful one at that it so made no sense to sit here and let that allude you. Nothing was wrong with dating and

“Girl, I think you just need to stop letting stuff get to you. I know you don’t want to hear this but it comes with the game. These bitches gone’ talk shit regardless and if you wanna be out there and have Pole Assassins all over the world, then I think you need to get a bit of thicker skin and let it roll off your back. They don’t pay your bills so don’t pay they asses no mind. Period.”

she was right! No need in dwelling over something that couldn’t be undone. You two enjoyed yourselves so there was nothing to regret, even if it was short lived. Meeting him was a top five experience in your life and career, even if that was the first and last time…rising from her spot, heels clicking against the previously polished sandalwood floors, marked by your scuffing.

“As for mister EJ, if he does by some miracle remember you, don’t fumble that bag, bitch. It’s time to put (y/n) first and stop worrying about an image. He obviously don’t care so why should you?”

letting out a loud huff, you’d stand up as well and stretch your limbs. It was no point in denying the truth..someone was going to have an opinion, good or bad. Something that Eren had probably learned early on and it was your turn now to do the same. Especially if you wanted to achieve all these wild dreams and see (y/n) (l/n) up in lights…

“Yeah, yeah. Damn I hate that you always right..”

you just hoped that it wouldn’t be for all the wrong reasons..

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰───────✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰

later that evening..

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darkness had all but settled over the bustling city of Miami but it was most certainly a place that never slept. Parties, clubs, bars and adult playgrounds alike..you’d definitely find your poison there. Something to suit a vice of every kind. It was also a place, notorious for the amount of celebrities that resided there, including Eren himself. However, he didn’t partake in the late night culture much or being around people at all for that matter. Granted, it was a far cry from his hometown of northern Jersey but at the fresh age of sixteen, he made the move all by his lonesome to South Florida and hadn’t looked back since. It was something that kept his family at odds for years and baffled his friends all the same.

they thought he was insane for choosing to leave a life of comfortability and luxury, just to chase this dream of making music. To voluntarily couch surf and sleep in cars all because they didn’t support him…it seemed crazy but it was a necessary sacrifice. He could’ve easily followed in his father and older brother’s footsteps; dealing with sick people or sitting in a chair with a note pad, listening to people bitch about their problems. But he’d much rather go mop the entire sea floor of Miami Beach before being in their shoes. So he stayed diligent, drowning out any noise that refuted his goals and went hard. He worked at Foot Locker during the day and done a few..illegal things at night to fund his engineering education. Fast forward almost ten years later and it had paid off major. Three Grammys; two for album of the year, one for songwriting, four VMA’s, and even an Emmy for a song he once produced in a movie. His resume was quite stacked and impressive for being so young. And the bank account matched!

with a net worth of over thirty million, it was no wonder that he was the topic of discussion every other week. Wondering how he did it..what his secret was and what he was going to do next. At the moment though..he was enjoying the fruits of his tireless labor.. but without squaring away the remained of his business first!.. “Listen, I heard the song and that shit go crazy…bro, I’m telling you, this the next single!..imma be flying out there next week for a shoot and you already know what I’m on. Let’s link and make this shit happen. I just got my second studio out there and I’m ready to go to work. I’ll send my verse in the morning..”

the rapper spoke into his AirPods as he conversed with excitement on his face. When it came to creating, that’s what truly made him smile. All that other stuff, they could keep. On the other end, was a fellow artist that had been dying to work with the famous producer. Not just to mix and master the music but have him on the song as well and getting an EJ The Don feature was like getting the rarest Pokémon you could find. He was a hot commodity, even after all these years and still hadn’t reached his prime! It was a great feeling because his best work was yet to come. For now though, what he needed was rest! “Aight, man. I’ll talk to you later..bye.”

ending the call shortly after before settling into his massive king bed with the pillow top mattress. Covered in neatly tucked silk sheets and fluffy comforters..all courtesy of his wonderful housekeeping staff. Which consisted of seven people that kept his ten thousand square foot, three story mansion spotless. Six bedrooms and baths, a mini theater, game room, home gym and an infinity pool with a jacuzzi in the spacious backyard. Not to mention, the all black Wraith, cobalt blue Maserati and two muscle cars sitting in the five car garage. To say he lived lavish was an understatement and the best part was..he did it all on his lonesome. Not a red cent of his doctor daddy’s money like everyone loved to claim.

but one thing about him, is that he didn’t give the first, second or third fuck about anyone’s opinions. He had the life that they could only dream of and no amount of comments or commentary videos would stop him. Having freshly showered, the musician ties his shoulder length shag into a bun..completely topless; covered only by his tattoos and donning grey sweats as he climbed into bed. On the nightstand sat his phone and a pre rolled blunt, awaiting his ignition. After the stressful day he’d had, he most certainly needed it.

despite his rampant success and having anything he wanted at his disposal..there was something missing that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Unlike most of his cohorts, he didn’t do well with company. Having a house full of strangers to fill a void or laying up with a bitch he didn’t know the first thing about was not his ministry. He’d rather be alone in the solitude of his fortress before going out sad like that..still, like anyone, he did long to have someone around, at least to talk to.

his two best friends: one, a philandering playboy with more bodies than the morgue and the other, a soon to be married woman with a husband that hated his guts had no time to kick it with him, as their schedules just didn’t permit it. Reluctantly, Eren grabbed the phone from the nightstand and scrolled for a minute. It was very rate that he even picked that thing up because he was just jaded by social media and folks in general. But it was the closest he’d get to human interaction right now.

placing his blunt between his lips, he’d grasp the lighter sitting next to it and spark a flame, allowing the air to permeate his lungs. There wasn’t a better feeling in the world!..but it was about to get that much better when he flicked his thumb across the screen to scroll up his very bare feed, completely ignoring the thousands of notifications and spotted something in the recommended tab..

@(socialmedianame) Worked on a little something today with the girls..can’t wait to be on the stage at Rolling Loud. ♥️”

a video with a familiar song, a very familiar face..and a pretty infamous body too was seen twirling around a pole to one of his tracks, doing a variety of stunts until she went spread leg in the air and then landed on the floor in a split! To say he was impressed would be an understatement. Stretching those big green eyes, the rapper replayed the reel at least a couple times before becoming completely entranced..he couldn’t stop staring at the woman or her movements. Out of complete curiosity, he’d click the user and there she would appear..

(Y/N): the one who had been on his mind constantly. And that much was proven by the fact that he was even lurking on your page because he never even bothered to check in anyone. But after only seeing a couple pictures, that infatuation grew tenfold. From the aesthetically pleasing photos of you in some sexy outfit, to the videos of you twerking to a new song as you sported a string bikini. Now, he had had his fair share of women and seen all types of girls throughout the tenure of his career but not one of them would EVER come close to being as bad as you..that pretty brown skin tone, perfect hair, nails and makeup..an absolute beauty. Of course, he was a man before anything so his attention averted to that ass, which was sitting..

he’d never admit it but he had watched it far more times than he should’ve been proud of. One perk of being alone in this big house was that he was free to do as he pleased..which included cupping a hand around his bulge and release a huff while watching that thickness move like water. “Damn (y/n)…”

it made no sense how fine you were and how mesmerized he was..the fantasies running through his head right now were not thoughts unbecoming of a renowned recording artist. But something would soon snap the singer out of his trance and that was a call from (y/n) yourself! Not was he expecting but he’d quickly pull himself together to accept. “Fuck.” Mumbling underneath his breath, Eren swiped over and in a matter of seconds, your pretty face was on the other end in real time.

“What’s good?”

his deep set voice speaking out and immediately catching you off guard..not because it scared you but that tone done something to you. He played it so cool that you wouldn’t have even known that you had him sweating bullets a few minutes ago!

“I’m just now getting in, sorry about calling you this late..I didn’t see your text until now so I figured I’d say hey.”

now, if anyone else had been hitting his line that late, they would’ve been getting cussed out from A to Z but for you? He was happy as hell to hear your voice and even happier to see that smile. Something he didn’t believe he had ever experienced. Yet here he was imploding with joy..blowing a cloud of smoke, he’d eye you up and down before speaking again.

“Nah, you fine. Glad you did…” from there, the two of you proceeded to talk about your days, exchanging laughs and stealing glances of one another through the camera lenses. You were in your hotel room, just now making it back from a photo shoot and fine wasn’t even the word to describe the look. Face beat to perfection, long thirty inch jet black hair laid and a skimpy two piece on your curvy body. “You look pretty. Like that outfit on you..” the compliment making your stomach flutter in return. For some reason, conversation flowed so casually with him. This was the first time that you had actually seen his face since the club and you didn’t even feel nervous. The fact that you even had his number was still a shock but it was nice.

however, there was a huge elephant in the room that would inevitably take over your chat. “So Miss Ackerman called me today..” the words making him visibly irritated because his mind immediately reverted back to their talk earlier in the day. He despised being told what to do but as he was certain she gave him that advice, he was sure she had given you the same lecture. “Oh yeah? You got a visit from the wicked witch too? What she say?” Playing oblivious as he absentmindedly turned on the TV to distract himself. Meanwhile, you’d giggle and prepare to put your hair up. Unbeknownst, she had already gotten on his ass but you’d be completely honest.

“She said she was really happy with the club performance and that she’d be happy for us to come back and host any time. Which again, I have to say thank you for helping me. I don’t know if I would’ve been able to do it without you.” nodding gently as he looked at you. It was his pleasure because your paths probably would’ve never crossed regardless. Which may have been for the best, considering that you were being dogpiled simply for being associated with his namesake. But Eren wasn’t much for small talk and he could tell by the look on your face that something was bothering you..

“And what else did she say?”

the question caught you off guard but there was no use in lying. Might as well be upfront because knowing him, he was completely oblivious to the whole situation. “..I’m assuming you don’t know about the picture then, huh?” letting out a soft cackle, he’d simply shrug his shoulders before pursing his lips together for another hit. “I’ve been made aware..why? What’s up?” It was as if nothing ever got underneath his skin. Which was more than what could be said about you because for the past few days, they had managed to piss you off something serious! As you stood before your bathroom mirror, you’d section off those locks into sections; placing them in rollers for the night.

“Well, they out here saying we fucking. Talking shit and making up stuff..so annoying.”

without so much as the raise of an eyebrow or change in expression, EJ blew his third consecutive puff and dismissed it, which you figured it was because of his long term tenure in the industry and he was accustom to having his name used for clickbait. It was another day for him but you weren’t exactly privy to it so he’d try to ease your mind…at least in the best way he knew how!

“I mean…I’ll prove ‘em right if that’s what they want.” muttering so casually that you’d blurt out a laugh and smack your lips. “You know what?” eventually, he’d start laughing as well and sit up, now staring you straight in the face. “But for real, that don’t bother you? They just making shit up, playing on yo’ name like that?”

the question was all but rhetorical, still her answer truthfully and let you know exactly what the deal was! “Yeah, cause imma be mad that they’re saying I had sex with a beautiful girl. Oh, the horror..” that sarcasm was something you’d hav to get used to quickly if you wanted to be his friend and not many people had the patience to put up with it. You found it refreshing though.

that’s when he’d say something yet again to take all of those thoughts and say to hell with them.

“Babygirl, I don’t dabble in what ifs and rumors..little too grown for all that shit. I let people believe what they want because I don’t care. As for as you and I, if you really wanna give ‘em something to talk about and make ‘em mad, then keep fucking with me..I’ll make it fun.”

the absolute and sure fire conviction in his words was so attractive! That nonchalantness was so sexy and you couldn’t help but wish that they were correct in their statements. Gliding your tongue across your lips, you’d just smirk and try to feint your true feelings. He was problems..that much was certain but were you truly prepared to deal with them? Was Niesha right about what she said?..what should you do?..

“Mmmm, can’t tell if you threatening me with a good time or what?”

“Shit..come find out.”

he really did play too much!

while you were busy contemplating, he’d set the phone down and you’d catch a glimpse of his chiseled physique and you wanted to jump through the screen. You should not have had this much tension and attraction to a man you barely knew but honestly, how many girls would kill to be in your spot? FaceTiming with everyone’s celeb crush. Hell, you wanted to put it in the camera for him!

“..well I gotta go. I’m happy you called me, beautiful. Get you some rest, alright? And don’t let these dumbass people get to you..”

you didn’t even try to attest and would tell him goodnight because you definitely needed to get out of these clothes and into a hot shower. “I’ll try. Goodnight..”

and with that, the line would disconnect, leaving you both to reflect on the conversation and all of the intrusive thoughts that plagued your minds during and had to suppress out of respect for one another but when you hung up, you couldn’t help but to think about what he said:

“If you really wanna make ‘em mad, keep fucking with me..”

it was a dangerous game messing with him but maybe it was time to live a little. You could only imagine what it would actually be like..unfortunately though, that was all you could do. Imagine! Throughout the duration of that call, you were trying to hold it together but that was a problem and a half.

letting out a loud sigh, (y/n) proceeded to continue that nighttime routine and get ready to settle down for the night and you knew just the way to relax..

“I’m so glad I brought that damn rose toy with me..imma need it.”

you doubted that this rumor would come to fruition anytime soon but it didn’t hurt to improvise.

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if you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! please check out some of my other stuff in the masterlist. Likes are appreciated but reblogs would mean the world and help me out a TON! Also, considering leaving a little something in the tip jar if you’re feeling extra generous! 🫶🏾

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[anqelically]

IKIGAI | OSAMU DAZAI X FEM!READER

002. FLIGHT JA815S

CHAPTER SUMMARY: An airplane is in need of saving because of the Azure Apostle, so the agency saves the passengers with the help of a young girl on the flight

CHAPTER WARNINGS: None

WORD COUNT: 1.7K words

SERIES INTRODUCTION | CH1 | CH3

FOR THE NEXT HALF HOUR, Y/N was working as if it were a normal day, even though there was seldom a normal day at the agency. An ideal day, one would say. She sorted through some paperwork and checked any e-mails as they came in.

She noticed how a few of them were insulting the agency for their previously failed rescue of four innocent people. That incident is what led Kunikida to be in the headlines of the local newspaper.

After people recognized him as an Armed Detective Agency member, some took time out of their day to stand outside of the agency to yell or throw things at members. Y/N could recall how her eye almost got hit by a small rock. She was glad that Ranpo was there to block her face and catch the rock with his hat.

All the hate e-mails were immediately trashed, but the senders remained unblocked. Even if they insulted the agency, they were still people of Japan. And as long as they were, the agency would try to help them if they needed it.

Y/N thought they received another complaint when her laptop dinged. She checked the e-mail to see that it was not a complaint, but a message from the Azure Apostle himself.

She was quick to call over the closest worker, "Oneesan, look!"

Dear Sir,

I am contacting you to discuss a third request. Passenger airline flight JA815S is currently midflight. I have taken the liberty of sending an interference signal to the aircraft's engine and yoke that will disable their functions. I would like for you to remove the device from the aircraft and save the passengers. Thank you for your understanding.

Yours sincerely,

The Azure Apostle

Yosano looked over Y/N's shoulder to read the message that seemed to be directed to Kunikida, considering that he was leading the case and neither of them would be referred to as "Sir".

"More? You have got to be kidding," the woman groaned. She pulled out her phone to contact Kunikida. "Y/N, can you trace the email to the sender's location?"

"I can try," she began to type, "but you know I'm not good at stuff like that."

As the woman predicted, she failed to trace the location from where the e-mail was sent. She was able to send the message to Kunikida, but that was something anyone at the agency could do easily. However, setting up a three-way call between three completely different devices from her computer seemed to be something Y/N could do, and the others couldn't.

A video call from a passenger on the targeted airplane made it through to the police. Since the Armed Detective Agency was in charge of the case and not Yokohama's police, they transferred the call over to Y/N's computer. From there, she was able to talk to the little girl on the screen.

She had to be no older than 9 years old. Her brown hair was cut into a short bob, and her teary eyes peeked out from underneath her bangs.

Yosano and Ranpo sat nearby as Y/N talked with the little girl. The group of detectives watched her tremble as she stared into the camera. Although they could see her, she could not see them.

"Hi, I'm someone from the Armed Detective Agency. My name's Y/N, what's yours?" Y/N began the process of adding Kunikida's phone to the call on a separate monitor.

"Ch-Chiyo," the girl responded.

"Here, let me turn my camera on so you can see me," Y/N's face appeared on the screen beside Chiyo's. She gave the young one a soft smile, "Chiyo-chan, I need you to tell me what's happening. Can you do that?"

"O-Okay... Well, um, Mommy w-wasn't feeling well, so I'm talking f-for her. The p-plane is falling... s-so fast... Everybody's screaming-" a feminine-sounding yell cut her off. Chiyo jumped, "I-I'm scared. Please help!"

"Help is on its way, I promise. Just continue talking with me, okay? The more I know about what's happening there, the faster we can make things better for your mommy."

While Chiyo continued to describe what was going on, Kunikida's phone joined the call. A box with his name popped up on the screen, indicating that he and Dazai could listen and see both Natsuo and Chiyo.

"Did the pilots, the people in charge of the airplane, say anything else?" Y/N interrogated.

"They s-said the engine stopped moving, and th-the steering wheel d-doesn't work anymore, either."

"You hear that, Kunikida?"

"Yes," he spoke, "I heard. Doesn't sound good, obviously."

"Are we gonna d-die? E-everyone says we're gonna die... I'm scared. Mommy's not moving or a-answering me. P-please, please help us.." Chiyo cried further.

Y/N was going to try to comfort her, but all the words she wanted to say died in her throat. She was never good at comforting others, especially since she couldn't even recall the feeling of being comforted as she grew up. The warmth of comfort was something she felt only after she joined the Armed Detective Agency. But even so, she still wasn't good at providing it to others. "You'll be okay" and "It will get better" can only work so much.

Unexpectedly to Y/N, another voice joined the call, "Hello, little one. Can you hear me?"

"Y-yes."

Dazai then continued, "We here are airplane experts. There's nothing to worry about anymore. We're going to fix the plane. What's your name, little miss?"

"Chiyo."

"Chiyo, everything's going to be okay. Got any snacks with you?"

"Mommy g-gave me this piece of candy."

"Candy, huh? I love candy, too. It's so sweet, and it really helps you relax, doesn't it?"

"Dazai-" Kunikida's voice was cut off.

"I've got this..." Dazai sounded confident. "Chiyo, first, I want you to really take your time enjoying that piece of candy. After that, I'm going to need you to take that device you're talking into and bring it to the captain's room. Do you know where the captain's room is?" Chiyo wiped away her tears and nodded. "Don't worry. There's nobody screaming in there, and I bet your mommy will be feeling better in no time."

"B-but I... I can't go alone. I can't leave Mommy behind."

"Hey, Chiyo-chan, do you remember what I said earlier? We're here to help you, your mommy, and everyone else. I just need you to bring what you're talking on to the pilot of the plane. Can you go there and give it to them for us?"

The brown-haired girl stared at the side for a few moments before she took out the candy she said she had. She shakily placed it in her mouth, her hands still trembling as she picked up the communication device. Chiyo began to walk towards the cockpit.

While she walked, Y/N spoke to the other two on the line, "Do you want me to stay on, or do you think you guys can handle it?"

"Oh, we can definitely handle it," Dazai spoke. "But once this is all over, I never wanna partner with Kunikida again. Wanna pair up with me instead?"

"Enough with the unrelated talk! The case always comes first," Kunikida scolded.

"Oh, come on~ I'm trying to lighten up the mood."

"The mood is the way it is for a reason."

Y/N chuckled, never responding to Dazai's question, "Well then, I'll turn off now. Just ring me if you need anything from us here. Please stay safe, okay?"

"Of course."

"See you later, Y/N-chan."

Letting out a breath she unintentionally withheld, Y/N leaned back in her chair. Although most people would overlook it, she did not. After meeting Dazai earlier, Y/N didn't expect him to talk to Chiyo so easily. He was able to comfort her and have her bring the communication device to the pilot in one go. It was common for someone to comfort another, yet Y/N felt embarrassed that it was difficult for her to do so.

"Don't think about it," Yosano's voice reached Y/N's ears. She looked at the older woman, who continued, "Not everyone is good at everything. There is always a multitude of weaknesses within a person. There's no need to be embarrassed."

"You're reading my mind again," Y/N whined, her hands covering her face.

"You're easy to read," Ranpo cut in, a lollipop in hand. "You make all these facial expressions every time you feel something new. Your eyes soften when you're happy, you furrow your brows when you're sad, and you tilt your head when you're confused. You're very animated in general."

"Don't worry, we'll work on your poker face," the doctor rested her hands on Y/N's shoulder. "Otherwise, we can't ever play, and that's just a shame."

"Even if I don't know how to play, isn't it bad to gamble in the first place?" Y/N raised a brow.

"We gamble paperwork and, rarely, drinks. It's harmless."

"But I've never seen Oniisan lay a finger on any paperwork..."

Ranpo smirked, "That's because the greatest detective never loses."

"For now," Yosano challenged. "I'll beat ya in a game when you least expect it."

"Is that so? I might retire when the time comes."

"Isn't Dazai-san really smart too? What he manages to beat you, Oniisan?" Y/N questioned.

"No way."

"Long shot."

The youngest murmured, "That was fast."

Some time passed before Ranpo suggested, "Let's go bother the president. Hello~! We're here!"

Y/N and Yosano deadpanned when the detective slammed the door to Fukuzawa's office open with no shame. They briefly glanced at each other before they sighed, following the man inside. If Ranpo wasn't bothered to talk about the Azure Apostle, they were sure the problem would be resolved.

"Fukuzawa-sama!" Y/N greeted the man.

"Y/N," he acknowledged.

The young woman smiled before she sat down next to Ranpo. Yosano sat down too, and they fell into a conversation that lasted until Kunikida and Dazai returned.

They had a couple of bruises and scratches, but they succeeded in preventing the plane from crashing.

WRITTEN: 01/21/2023

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

i wanted to get this over with asap so i can start writing an original case that y/n and dazai are going to be taking care of. let's hope it turns out well 👍🏻

@seneon @chuuyrr @kentopedia @cloudwisp @aureatchi

#୨୧ [ ikigai ] #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x you #bsd x you #bsd #bungou stray dogs angst

[greg-montgomery]

okay but imagine bau reader and hotch get into a fight or argument a day before and readers all 😒😒😒😒 and poor hotchy is trying to be all 😐😐😐 but he knows damn well that he hates the silent treatment and the reader being all professional with him but he's stubborn!!! oh so stubborn he would act like he doesn't care and it doesn't faze him at all but after a moment he's all 😔🥺😔🥺 when he sees reading joking and laughing with the team members and ignoring him so he finally apologies and is like 😡you😡so😡mean😡to😡me kiss me please 😔

i loved this idea so muchhhh <333 i'm sorry this was supposed to be soft and i made it kinda angsty but i swear the ending is fluffy!!

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

He heard a knock on his door. He knew it was you. Maybe he was insane for it, but he could always recognize when it was you who knocked.

Was it the profiler in him? Or was it the man who was madly in love with you? Either way, he knew that after saying “Come in,” he would see the door open, followed by your beautiful face.

“Sir,” you said coldly, walking towards his desk. “I brought the files you needed. Every form is filled like you asked.”

Oh so that’s what we’re doing now, he thought.

If it was any other day? You’d already be in his lap right now. Kissing his cheek and telling him you missed him already, even though you would have driven to work together that morning.

But this time was different. You had a fight the day before, which ended with the two of you saying some pretty mean things to each other. Things said out of anger and frustration. Things that you both knew you didn’t mean.

So there was no waking up in the same bed that day. No you on top of him refusing to get up and sleepily holding him down in bed too. No driving together to work that morning with you forcing Aaron to sing Taylor Swift along with you in the car. No coffee with a cute little heart and a sweet “I love you” written on his plastic cup by you. Only a cold empty stare and you calling him sir instead of baby.

It hurt.

He would beg for your forgiveness. He really would. But he was way too stubborn to give up that easily.

“Thank you, Agent. You can leave them here,” he said, acting completely uninterested in your presence, his gaze already dropping down to whatever papers were sitting on his desk.

You did as he said and left his office with no other word.

--

The day just wouldn’t pass. You didn’t have a case so there was nothing to distract him from thinking of you every single moment.

He was getting so desperate, he even arranged a meeting - which definitely could have been an email - with the team just so you’d be forced to give him a crumb of your attention.

You didn’t though. You didn’t even look at his direction the entire time.

When the meeting was over and everyone started casually chatting, he saw Morgan whisper something in your ear making you laugh.

And that was his last straw.

“Agent L/N,” he called out for you and you finally turned to look at him. “You please stay. I need to speak with you privately,” he asked. “Everyone else, you’re free to go home.”

After the team left, Aaron closed the door behind him.

“Sir, I don’t unders-”

“Yell at me,” he cut you off before you were able to finish your sentence. “Scream at me. Call me names. Tell me you hate me, I don’t care. But please talk to me. I hate this, Y/N. Please, this silent treatment you’ve been giving me is plain mean now.”

You sighed in defeat. Not talking to him hurt like hell. You had been acting like you didn’t care, but your head hurt from holding back tears all day.

So you finally let them spill. “You acted like you didn’t care at all that we had a fight.”

“Sweetheart…”

“No. This morning in your office you didn’t even look at me when I left you those damn files.”

“You were the one who called me sir!”

“Well other times you seem to love when I call you that,” you raised your voice.

“Y/N,” he said sternly, making you laugh between your sobs.

You looked up at him with red eyes and his heart broke. He moved closer, with a tender look on his face.

“Please just kiss me I can’t take this anymore,” he whined, almost desperate to feel your lips against his.

How could you say no to him? You were just as desperate to kiss him.

“Come here,” you whispered, wrapping your hands around his neck.

He pulled you impossibly close, his arms wrapped themselves around your body, to the point where you were barely able to breathe, and he gave you one of his deep kisses; those slow kisses of his that made you dizzy and weak on the knees.

When it was over, you kept your eyes closed even as he pulled away.

“Missed you,” you said, letting your head fall on his chest. He lost no time before pulling you into his arms again. “And I’m really sorry,” you continued.

“I’m sorry too. I was an idiot yesterday. I didn’t mean anything I said.”

“I didn’t mean anything I said either, baby. I guess we were both idiots.”

He cupped your cheek and looked into your eyes in silence, just taking you all in.

“I hated not talking to you. You’re my best friend you know,” you told him, playfully slapping his arm.

“Am I really?”

You nodded.

“You’re my best friend too,” he laughed and kissed your forehead with so much love.

send me aaron thoughts <3

#aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotch 🪐 #ask

[fictionalmenaremytype]

SEASON FINALE BABY LETS GOOO!!!!!

(Percy jackson ep 8 spoilers)

I'm just gonna start by saying if Disney doesn't renue this for a second season they are stupid and will have missed out on a harry Potter level phenomenon.

- LUKE MONOLOGUE HOLYSHIT ITS GIVING GOOD KID REPRISE

- HE IS KIND OF TERRIFYING IN THAT SWORD SCENE THO

- Ares' cackle. I love him .

- Ares just threw him like hulk did loki

- annabeth having to hold Grover back is so important to me because he's wanting to help percy but Annabeth knows this fight is to the death and any interruption would just get Grover killed.

- Annabeth also knowing he needs to prove himself as the son of poseidon and discover who he is.

- "let's kick the son of poseidon into a puddle right near the sea" I now understand why Athena is battle strategy and Ares is just war.

- THAT TSUNAMI JUST PARTING FOR PERCT US ICONIC AND HE JUST RUNS AND SWOOPS AND CUTS ARES

- my only critique is that Percy never does any movements to show its his power (which ik this is accurate to the books) but it comes off a little like he's just calling on Poseidon to do stuff. I wished they had some sort of indicator that it was Percy like maybe a slight movement or having the water pull back from the puddle he fell in and into the sea.

- I did think the fight was a little quick tbh but it still worked.

- the way I screamed "close your eyes close your eyes close your eyes!" When he was about to show his true form.

- woooh Hades helm

- The cabin looks fuckung terrifying rn

- I haven't seen the end of credit scene yet but I'm predicting it's going to be Sally with Gabe's statue.

- Alecto just wanted to get tho boss his hat back!

- "please" "good luck on Olympus" I thought she was going to be nice but noooo she's still a bitch.

- Annabeth trying to stop Percy from going because they're friends now and she's worried for his safety. I love Leah she is AMAZING.

- "I'm done running from monsters" THAT LINE OMG THE WRITERS ROOM ATEEEE

- THE NECKLACE?? THE MUSIC?? "You're gonna need all the luck you can get." Is so sweet and so patronising she is perfect. Leah is Annabeth Chase she has cyclops powers and just embodies her!

- "how sure are we you couldn't explain everything in an email?" So relatable Grover so relatable.

- "I'm here to see Zeus." Lightning bolt on the table " I don't have an appointment"

- THIS SHOWS ART DEPARTMENT HOLY SHITT OLYMPUS IS STUNNING WTF

- it is so so obvious when you know abt Luke that yes trying to recruit Percy to his side.

- LUKE REALLY JUST SET ANNABETH UP TO BE THE TRAITOR THERE WHAT!

- can someone build this olympus on minecraft please I want to exploreee.

- zeus (rip Lance Reddick we miss you) just waiting on his throne is terrifying.

- The thrown room being in a thunder cloud has so much messaging behind it! It is pathetic fallacy at its finest.

- Zeus is scary. I don't like it. Literal goosebumps rn.

- "your family is a mess" you tell him Percy. Be his therapist

- WHEN HE TRIED TO STRIKE PERCY OH MY GOD POSEIDON SURRENDERING

- "your forbidden son who should've never been born" "the same as your thalia" Poseidon learnt some sass I see.

- THE GREEK IS INGENIOUS.

- "make sure I never see this one again." Well I hate to break it to you sir but you will...a lot

- "obedience doesn't come naturally to you does it?" "No...sir." "the sea does not like to be retrained." CAUSE THE SEA DOESNT LIKE TO BE RESTRAINEDDDDD

- Percy not immediately knowing Greek is such a slept upon lart of the books because they have lessons in it.

- Poseidons smile about Sally.

- "Ares is a moron." The only thing Poseidon and Athena agree on.

- Aww they finally had father son time. Its so emotional and beautiful and its made me emotional.

- the line of applause and I'm just looking for Travis and Connor.

- The hugging is a thing.

- "an accusation against clarisse." "Without proof" annabeth has a feeling!

- honestly adding Clarisse as a traitor and using that to get Percy and Luke alone makes more sense to me given that they know someone at camp stole the bolt.

- I think now is the time to say how Charlie is amazing for Luke he's so sinister when he wants to be l.

- luke making him go through the Prophecy before he reveals and percy slowly realising why Omg chills.

- the red lighting on Luke highlighting his scar.

- luke looking like he's about to cry

- "I didn't think you'd give them to Grover." "I'm here to recruit" AH

- BACKBITER CAN OPEN PORTALS NOW THIS IS A WHOLE NEW LEVEL OF OVER POWERED !!!!!

- LUKE AND PERCY FIGHT LUKE AND OERCY FIGHT.

- Is that a silhouette in the background???

- " I met your dad" THE ANGER OMG

- the fight with Ares being short is made up for by this fight. Under the fireworks? In the woods? It's stunning!!!!

- PERCYS APOLOGY OMG I FELT SO BAD FOR HIM HES SCARED AND CONFUSED AND STILL TRYING TO SEE THE BEST IN LUKE.

- YES ANNABETH. THROWING HER DAGGER AT LUKE?!? I HOPE THAT KNIFE BECAUSE PART OF ANNABETHS CHARACTER BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE SO COOL. I KNEW I SAW A SILHOUTTE

- " Annabeth?" " I heard everything" I KNEW SHE HAD HER SUSPICIONS

- " He can be very very persuasive" "I'm very very stubborn"

- MR D LOVE HIM

- "Percy? That's your name?"

- I was half expecting Dionysus to do an Oprah and say " you get out and you get out"

- Annabeth saying goodbye to Thalia is so sweet

- " and then sone place called Disney World?" She's never seen a movie she's going to be so confused. "Which kind of sounds like water land but with less trying to kill you" Yeah.

- the way he smiles at her is so cute.

- "wait did I read that wrong. What am I walking into. Is there something you're supposed to do there?" "Just be a kid"

- aww Grovers searcher licence is a flower

- "but no ones ever thought to check the seas!" Nice set up Disney I see you.

- "we meet back here next year." Well you will eventually.

- THE GROUP HUG (if we get up to season 5 I expect editors to make edits of them hugging at 16 to them hugging at 12)

- The cabin and Sally <3

- "what happened?" "It's a long story."

- WHAT JUST HAPPNED OMG ANOTHET DREAM OMG KRONOS I DONT LIKE THIS HES TOO CLOSE OMG GO AWAY DONT INVITE HIM IN HES LIKE A VAMPIRE. HES SCARY SCARY SCARY.

- "no kidding kiddo it's time to wake up." So cute.

- "grandpa." "Don't call him that."

- "Don't forget to tell your mom how much you love her today." "Kronos Lord of the titans said that?" The lying and secrets has begun

- NO GABE WOOH

- THE ENDING MONOLOGUE

- HOW MUCH DID WALKER SCOVELL GROW OVER FILMING HES SO TALL NEXT TO SALLY AND THE DOOR FRAME.

- Sally divorcing gabe is much much better than her just turning him to stone because it gives the message that she now recognises her son can look after himself and now she doesn't have to protect him anymore.

- GABE ASKING THE LAWYER HOW TO PICK A LOCK IS SO FUNNY

- I really like how it's his own hate for percy and everything percy has that gets him killed rather than straight up homicide. It really sets the idea that people like that will find their own downfall (which is ironic bc this trope is commonly used in ancient Greek tragedies)

season one of percy jackson is stunning. It's a masterpiece even with the changes and whilst there was definitely some timing issues and the cut to black became annoying, it was very, very good. If it is renewed for another season, it has a lot of potential, and I will be very excited to see how they adapt The Sea of Monsters for screen.

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #annabeth chase #pjo tv show #pjo series #walker scobell #grover underwood #percy jackson season 1 finale

[viesantewrites]

𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐝

(𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧)

Robert Fischer (Inception) x Reader

note: Hey guys, I‘ve rewritten this story a bit and decided to post it on my sideblog. I've changed some of the themes and also that the main character is no longer an OC, but the reader. I think this story is kinda difficult to write, which is why I've rewritten it several times. I love plots like Shutter Island and tried to do something similar here & it‘s also a story about parasocial relationships and unrequited love.

summary: The reader is hopelessly in love with her boss Robert Fischer, but he doesn't seem to be interested in her. By an unexpected coincidence, they meet in the city and his sudden intense affection for her confuses her. The reader begins to suspect that something is wrong, and when she finally uncovers the truth about her encounters with Fischer the heartbreaking reality is revealed to her.

you don‘t have to watch the movie to understand the story.

word count: 5000+

warnings: topics like mental illness, depression

It was just half past seven when she heard the familiar footsteps in the corridor approaching the office next door. A key was inserted into the lock and a moment later the door opened.

Glancing around to make sure her workspace wasn't too messy, she threw an old paper cup into the bin before her boss poked his head through the door.

"Good morning, Miss YN, so busy already?" he asked with a tired smile. "It doesn't reflect well on me as a boss to have my assistant here before me. I'm sorry, Monday mornings are always a bit stressful for me."

"No problem, Mr Fischer. I've already sorted the mail for you, it's on your desk," she said kindly, watching him as he took off his coat and hung it on the coat rack, a little damp from the rain.

"Thank you, I can count on you."

He was a very elegant, handsome man, about ten years her senior, with dark hair, blue eyes, high cheekbones and an elegant black suit. She must have stared at him a little too long, because he turned to her with a questioning smile.

Immediately her cheeks flushed and she turned back to her computer screen, but by then Mr Fischer had already approached her and placed some documents on her desk. "Please scan them all and email them to Mr Parker, he's been waiting for them for days," he said to her. It would be best if we sat down together later and quickly discuss my tasks for today, there is a lot to do. If I'm not mistaken, I have a client meeting at three today.

"At two, sir," she corrected him, handing him a planner with today's date thickly underlined.

He started to grin. "You see, this is exactly why I have an assistant."

Fischer disappeared into his office.

She sighed slightly and went to work scanning the documents. She had been working for Fischer Morrow, one of the world's largest energy companies, for barely a month. Their headquarters had moved from Sydney to London after the death of their CEO, Maurice Fischer. Her current boss, Robert Fischer, was a direct descendant.

She liked Fischer Jr a lot. He was friendly, supportive and didn't get angry when things didn't go to plan. But in some ways he always seemed so unapproachable. For example, he never talked about his private life and YN had no idea who he was outside of work. Then again, he was her boss and his private life was none of her business. But deep down she admitted that she was very interested in him.

The days flew by and she finally felt as if she had been employed by Fischer Morrow for an eternity. But who Robert Fischer really was remained a mystery.

One evening, as she was about to leave, she quietly opened the door to Fischer's office. He was sitting in front of his computer, his chin resting on his hands. "Have a nice evening, Mr Fischer." He jumped slightly, obviously not having heard her come in, but then he smiled. "Thank you, you too."

YN looked at her watch. "It's almost half past seven, don't you want to finish your work soon? Don't you have a wife waiting for you?"

Mr Fischer shrugged. "I've been divorced for a few years now, and I only see my daughter at weekends. The only thing waiting for me is an empty, dark apartment."

YN held her breath. It was the first time he had told her anything about his private life. But in the same second, he seemed to regret his words.

"No one waits for me either," she said. "Except for my cat."

Fischer raised an eyebrow with a smile. "At least that's something."

Finally she said goodbye and left the office. But all the way home, she kept thinking about her conversation with Fischer.

Was he perhaps as lonely as she was?

Tired, YN lay in bed. She didn't even have the strength to change her clothes and remove her make up. Although she wanted nothing more than to get out of that itchy, uncomfortable dress and tights. A soft meow sounded beside her and she felt something soft brush against her arm. Smiling, she pulled the cat closer and buried her face in its white fur.

Since leaving her small home village for London, she had no one to talk to. Her old friends had all left her and moved on with their own lives. Robert Fischer was the only one she spoke to regularly, though it was far from a friendship. With the cat in her arms, she turned to the other side. But what if she had feelings for him?

Maybe she should tell him. But wasn't that too much? He was still her boss, after all, and there were probably plenty of women who were interested in him.

She quickly pushed the thought aside and closed her eyes.

Robert Fischer turned curiously when he heard the quick clicking of heels in the corridor. Panting, his assistant opened the door and dropped her bag on the desk.

"Miss YN, are you okay?"

Her hair was messy, her coat hung loosely over her shoulders as if she hadn't had time to put it on properly, and her lipstick was a little smudged.

"I… overslept," she said, panting. "I'm sorry."

Fischer looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "It's okay. But it shouldn't happen again."

"Of course not, sir," she replied immediately.

He quickly disappeared into his office and returned with a thick stack of papers and a folder.

"Would you be so kind as to sort these documents alphabetically for me? They've been on my desk for days and I haven't had a chance to get to them. I know it's not an exciting task."

She nodded and took the heavy pile from his hand. Fischer thanked her and hurried back to his office.

Sighing, she set to work. But with each page, she found her concentration fading and her mind wandering. Her head ached, her eyes burned and she felt incredibly tired. But she tried not to show it, kept working as hard as she could and finally put the sorted file back on Mr Fischer's desk.

Exhausted, she walked back to her office, sat down in her chair and buried her face in her hands. She was shivering and her ears were ringing. Was it because she had forgotten to take her medicine today?

"Miss YN?" she heard her boss' voice.

She turned immediately and forced a smile. "Yes, Mr Fischer?"

"I have an job interview scheduled for ten, would you be so kind as to prepare the conference room for it?"

"Of course, sir."

He stopped halfway and looked at Victoria questioningly. "Are you okay? You look so pale." She nodded quickly, forcing a smile. "Everything's fine, Mr Fischer." Fischer looked at her, raised his eyebrows, then handed her the key to the meeting room and disappeared back into his office.

A strange feeling of dizziness spread through her head as she walked down the long corridor leading to the conference rooms.

What was wrong with her today?

When it started to get dark outside, YN finally turned off her computer and reached for her bag. The strange dizziness had improved during the day, leading her to conclude that she simply needed a break from work. Fortunately, it was Friday. She knocked gently on Fischer's door, as she always did before leaving, to wish him a pleasant evening. He was sitting there as usual, his chin resting on his hand, deep in thought. He glanced up briefly and nodded politely, noticing her in the doorway. He looked stunningly handsome today, even after this long and exhausting day.

"I didn't ask you how the job interviews went this morning," she asked curiously. Fischer shook his head. "Terribly," he said. "None of these people I'd want in my company." His voice was cold and dismissive, and for a moment she thought he was referring to her, even though she knew he meant someone else. She smiled awkwardly and shrugged slightly. "Well, maybe the next one will be better."

Fischer remained silent.

"Have a good weekend, Mr Fischer."

"You too, Miss YN." He gave her a friendly smile.

"Do you have any plans for the weekend? I know a good restaurant, would you like to join me?" The moment she realised what she had just said, she bit her lip, her face turning red. Had she completely lost her mind? She desperately hoped he hadn't heard what she'd asked, but it was too late. She could see Fischer raise his eyebrows in confusion and stare at her.

"No, Miss YN. I'm not interested. I keep my work and personal life strictly separate." She immediately looked down, embarrassed. Thoughts raced through her mind like a rollercoaster and her cheeks felt as if they were on fire. "I'm sorry, Mr Fischer, I shouldn't have asked you that." She finally grabbed her bag and left the office without another word, feeling Fischer's gaze on her back.

It was drizzling lightly as she walked through the busy streets of London. The cold air did her good and she felt her head clear a little.

Why had she done this? It had been clear from the start that a man like him would reject her. But the words had come out of her mouth as if she had completely lost control. She felt a tear roll down her cheek and quickly wiped it away. She didn't want to have a mental breakdown in public, even though it felt like Fischer had torn her heart into a thousand pieces. Suddenly the strange dizziness returned and her vision blurred slightly. The sounds of London became muffled, as if she were incredibly far away.

"Miss YN, wait!" she suddenly heard a voice behind her that seemed to be getting closer.

She turned around. The dizziness had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Startled, her eyes widened as she saw the person in front of her - it was Mr Fischer. What was he doing here? Had he followed her? She tried to speak, but all she could manage was a hoarse stutter.

"I wanted to apologize, Miss YN. It wasn't very nice of me to brush you off like that," he said with a gentle laugh. His voice sounded strangely different, softer than usual. Wordless and spellbound, she stared into the pair of light blue eyes before her, apologetic and gentle in their expression. She knew Mr Fischer had blue eyes, but she'd never noticed how incredibly bright they looked in his face.

"It's okay, don't worry," she managed to say, her knees shaking with excitement.

"No, no, Miss YN. I'll think about the dinner offer, okay? Just because we work together doesn't mean we can't have dinner together, does it?" Fischer suggested, and she nodded slowly, then smiled.

Why this sudden change of heart?

"Well, see you soon." He waved goodbye and YN, still completely confused, raised her hand in response. But before she could form another thought, he had disappeared into the crowd.

Carefully, YN pressed the shutter on her old camera, focusing the lens on the small lake in front of her. Satisfied, she lowered it. She was confident that this snapshot would turn out well. This park was a place she often visited to clear her head and pursue her passion, photography, as it offered many beautiful subjects. Especially now, in autumn, when the trees were covered with colourful leaves and the silence was slowly descending, with only the occasional pedestrian passing by.

Her dizziness had eased a little, but not completely. Fortunately, it was Saturday and she had the whole day to herself. YN sat down on a bench under a tree that looked to be at least a hundred years old.

She sat there for a while, lost in thought. Eventually she got up and made her way to the West End. The streets of London were noisy and busy as she walked, looking for a warm place in a café and something to eat. Crowds of people rushed past her, music played from somewhere and loud voices filled the air. Exhausted, she rubbed her temples. Maybe she should have stayed home and rested.

Suddenly she held her breath as she spotted a familiar face in the crowd. Dark hair, high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. Fischer. But before she could think, he had already noticed her and started to smile at her.

"Miss YN, how nice to see you! What a coincidence!"

It was the first time she had seen him in his casual clothes rather than one of his business suits. But this was no less elegant and stylish. He was wearing a well-fitting black coat, a grey knitted jumper underneath and black trousers. It was so strange to see him outside his office at Fischer Morrow Company. Suddenly he didn't seem so unapproachable and distant anymore.

"What are you doing here?" she asked curiously.

He paused for a moment. He seemed to be considering whether or not to tell her.

"I brought my little girl to her friend's house for a sleepover. She's been asking me for weeks because her mum won't let her."

"So you're a cool dad," YN replied.

Fischer rolled his eyes. "I'm the one who lets her get away with everything. We had to turn back twice because she realised she had forgotten her favourite stuffed animal and then her toothbrush."

She laughed softly. In a strange way, she enjoyed him talking so openly about his life.

"Oh wow, that looks amazing. It's quite old, isn't it?" Mr Fischer pointed to the camera around her neck. "From the 1960s. But it takes incredibly good pictures for that time," she explained. Fischer seemed genuinely impressed. "Do you have more like it?"

"I have quite a few. From the 50s to the 80s, actually, and of course some modern digital cameras. Photography has been my passion since I was a child," she explained. Fischer looked at her with an interested smile. "So there's actually film in there that needs to be developed?" she nodded in confirmation. "Some photo shops still offer that service, yes."

Mr Fischer seemed genuinely interested in her hobby, asking her questions about it as they walked side by side through the streets of London. She felt incredibly comfortable in his presence and hoped he wouldn't leave so soon. Finally he pointed to the camera again. "Would you take a picture of me, please? I'd like a 60's style photo of myself." YN's heart began to race in her chest. What had he just said?

"Of course, Mr Fischer," she replied nervously. "Robert. My name is Robert," he replied. Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks, completely surprised. No one at Fischer Morrow Ltd called him by his first name, and outside the company she had only heard his uncle, Peter Browning, call him Robert.

"Let's find a nice spot for the photo," he said, letting his gaze wander until it settled on a beautiful fountain.

Carefully, she picked up the camera, took a few steps back and held it directly in front of Robert's face. "Smile, please," she instructed him, finally pressing the shutter.

A pedestrian who had just passed them looked at YN with a confused expression and shook his head. Frowning, she looked after him before carefully tucking the camera into her handbag.

Are you hungry?" asked Robert. "We could go to a restaurant."

Surprised, she looked at him. "I don't know…" she said hesitantly, chewing her lower lip. In fact, she had never expected to be asked such a question.

He looked at her with raised eyebrows and she could see the disappointment in his eyes. Finally, she worked up the courage to say what was on her mind.

"It's just… To be honest, you told me yesterday that you were someone who kept your work and personal life strictly separate. Maybe it would be better if we did. After all, I'm your employee."

As much as she wanted to spend time with him, she was afraid of developing any more feelings for him. Robert nodded slowly and shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

"I really like you. I just never wanted to show it, that's why I was so reserved with you and told you I wasn't interested in you".

She closed her eyes and let out a sigh as a ton of thoughts went through her head. Robert finally nodded at her with a slightly disappointed look on his face and turned on his heel.

"Wait!" she called after him.

He stopped immediately and looked at her hopefully.

"Let's give it a try, shall we?"

YN… is that a French name?"

Robert's voice sounded slightly tipsy as he grinned curiously at her, twirling his wine glass casually in his hands. The plate in front of him was empty and he had now carefully placed the cutlery on it, waiting for a waitress to take it away.

He had taken her to a rather fancy and expensive place, the walls were dark wood panelling, the chairs were covered in red velvet and soft jazz music was playing on one of the radios. Robert looked hauntingly beautiful that night. His skin seemed incredibly soft and flawless, his jawline even more prominent, and his blue eyes shone almost ghostly in the dim light, almost like he wasn’t real…

She smiled, nodded and took a sip from her glass. "My father is French. I grew up in France but moved to England when I was 15."

He nodded with interest, rubbing his chin with his forefinger.

"And you? I heard you're Australian," she asked curiously.

Robert laughed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Well, my accent makes it obvious."

YN blushed and looked down at her plate. What a stupid question.

But Robert didn't seem to mind too much, because he started talking about his life in Sydney, how he had finally moved to London after his father's death, and she listened with interest.

But suddenly he stopped and looked at her thoughtfully. "But I'm probably just boring you."

YN immediately shook her head. "No, you're not," she told him. "I find it really interesting to find out all this about you."

At that moment a waitress came to their table with a smile and asked YN in a friendly tone if she had enjoyed her meal. But the waitress paid no attention to Robert, YN noticed with surprise. Perhaps she was just being extra polite to the lady.

YN's date pulled out a black leather purse and rummaged through it. Quickly, she pulled a few notes out of the bag and handed them to the waitress. "Keep the change," she said.

The waitress looked at her with wide eyes, "Thank you, ma'am," she said gratefully, "have a nice evening.

Then she turned and left the table.

"You didn't have to do that," Robert said. "As a gentleman, it's actually my job to pay."

She shook her head in amusement. "I bet that's never happened to you before, has it?"

Robert shook his head and took the last drink from his glass. There was a moment of silence between them.

"All right. So what's the plan for the rest of the evening?"

She looked at him in surprise. As soon as he said the words, she felt a tingle in her stomach.

The church clock struck twelve as she crossed the street hand in hand with Robert. It was freezing, and she had pulled her scarf so far up her face that only her eyes and nose were visible. Her date looked at her with amusement. "Are you going to rob a bank?" he asked, laughing out loud.

"Shh!" she snapped at him, putting her fingers to his lips. "You'll wake up the whole neighbourhood."

Although it was quite dark and she could only make out Robert, she knew that his typical mischievous grin was back on his face. She pulled him firmly behind her until they reached the small white building.

"Is this where you live?" Robert asked.

She put her finger to his lips for a second time until Robert stopped talking and looked silently into her eyes. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she finally stood on her toes, put her arms around his neck and placed her lips on his. Robert returned the kiss without hesitation and gently pulled her into his arms. YN could hardly believe what was happening. It was everything she had secretly wanted for months. They remained like this for a moment before she finally let go of him and reached for her key.

She felt for Robert's upper arm and finally pulled him into her apartment, closing the door behind him. She immediately wrapped her arms around him and began to kiss him again. His lips were a little cold and tasted of wine. Together they stumbled backwards into her bedroom, taking off his coat, which she tossed carelessly to the floor.

Robert's fingers stroked carefully along her hip and fumbled a little with her belt while she was busy planting little kisses on his neck. With slightly trembling hands she pulled his jumper over his head and Robert took her hand.

"Are you nervous?" he wanted to know. She remained silent.

"Don't be," he whispered softly into her ear, taking her in his arms again and pulling her onto the bed. Breathing softly, she clung to his chest, leaned back and finally closed her eyes as she felt his warm skin against hers.

The sun shone through the half-open curtains, creating a narrow, bright streak across the floor. Blinking, she opened her eyes and stretched. But immediately a sharp pain shot through her head again and she held her forehead tiredly. Confused, she sat up and tried to remember what had happened yesterday.

But when she heard soft breathing next to her, she turned quickly and all the events of last night came back to her. Smiling, she looked over at Robert, snuggled up next to her in her beige blanket, sleeping peacefully. Tenderly stroking his messy hair, she lay down beside him again and then began to caress his chest. Perhaps what they had done was wrong. After all, they were two people who should never have fallen in love. But it had happened, and it felt so right. They remained in this position for some time, Robert asleep and YN lost in thought.

Her eyes swept through the bedroom until they settled on a small white box on her dresser. Quickly sitting up, she reached for it and put a small pill into her mouth. Eventually, Robert began to move a little beside her, opening his eyes tiredly. Smiling broadly, she gave him a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

"Good morning," she whispered.

"Good morning," Robert murmured in a raspy morning voice.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked.

"Yes, wonderfully." He yawned loudly and took her into his arms as she laid her head lovingly on his shoulder.

"Wait, what time is it?" he suddenly wanted to know.

"Quarter past ten, why do you ask?" she replied.

"Shit," Robert muttered as he let go of the hug, jumped out of the bed and started to pick up his clothes, which were strewn all over the floor.

"Wait, wait, where are you going?" she asked, looking at him in confusion.

"I should've picked up my daughter by now," he replied, hurrying to get dressed.

Sighing, she pulled the blanket around her a little tighter. "Can't it wait? Can't you stay for breakfast?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm sure she's already waiting for me.“ Robert dodged her questions, grabbing his coat on the floor and sighing when he saw her disappointed look.

He walked slowly towards her, stroking her chin with his finger, and finally whispered: "We can catch up later." Then he put a soft kiss on her lips before turning around and disappearing through the door. She sank back into the pillows and pulled the blanket over her head.

The rest of Sunday flew by. Mostly because her mind was on Robert and she could hardly wait to see him again tomorrow at work. She had probably never looked forward to a Monday in her life as much as she did that day.

The next morning, YN carefully applied her lipstick and looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. She noticed that the collar of her white blouse was a little crooked and quickly adjusted it. She wanted to look her best for Robert today, so he wouldn't change his mind and lose interest in her.

Humming softly, she put on her black high heels and grabbed her handbag. She quickly put another pill into her mouth and put the box in her bag. Her headache was completely gone and her head finally felt clear and light again. In a good mood, she breathed in the fresh morning air and made her way to work.

Her heels clicked on the floor as she walked down the familiar corridor of Fischer Morrow. The lights were on in Robert's office. She ran a final hand through her hair, smoothed her blouse and opened the door to her own office.

The air was stuffy and hot. Coughing, she ran to the window and opened it.

"Good morning, Miss YN, I hope you had a nice weekend," a familiar voice sounded from behind her.

Startled, she turned to see Robert's face as he stuck his head through the door, as he always did.

Why didn't he call her by her first name? Confused, she stared at him, trying to form a clear sentence. "But… But… we spent it together…" her voice finally broke. Her head suddenly hurt again.

He seemed so different again. Not the Robert she had spent the weekend with, not the one who had apologised for being too rude to her, not the one who had made her laugh and told her about his life. He seemed more like the one she had worked with for months, the one who never revealed anything about himself.

"Miss YN? I haven't seen you since Friday, when you left my office after… asking me that question."

Her heart almost stopped. Suddenly her knees gave way and she sank to the floor.

"Are you okay? Are you feeling unwell?" Concerned, he bent down to her. "Do you want to go home and rest?"

She nodded slightly and wiped a tear from her eye, which had turned her fingers black from the carefully applied mascara. Then she got up and left the office.

At home, she lay motionless on her bed, tears streaming down her cheeks. She couldn't think straight and her throat felt incredibly dry. The door to her room, which was only ajar, opened gently and something small and white slipped through. Sniffling, she stretched out her arms and lifted her cat onto the bed.

Everything that had happened that weekend had been fake. She had made it all up. And all of this happened because she had forgotten to take the pills she was taking for her delusions. Robert hadn't really followed her on Friday evening; it was all a figment of her imagination. While his real self was still sitting in the office, probably not thinking about her at all. Everything suddenly made sense: why Robert looked a bit different, why his voice sounded different, the waitress who ignored him on Saturday because she couldn’t actually see him, the pedestrian who gave her a confused look because she was talking to herself while taking the photo.

The photo.

She immediately got up, put on her shoes and walked to the photo shop where she had left the film to be developed. Her heart raced as the staff handed her the envelope with the photos. Trembling, she finally grabbed the Saturday night photo, without looking at it herself, and held it up to the staff's face. "What do you see?" she asked.

The young man looked at her in confusion, but remained polite. "The fountain at Piccadilly Circus. Great picture, it turned out really nice."

"Anything else?" she asked.

"No, ma'am," he replied, and it felt like a slap in her face. Fischer had never been there with her. Only her lonely and sad mind had led her to believe that he was interested in her and loved her. Tears welled in her eyes and she left the shop without another word. When she got home, she immediately took the white box of pills from her handbag, rushed into the kitchen, opened the box and poured the pills into the bin.

Crying and with burning eyes, she finally lay down on her bed and buried her head in the pillow as her cat purred softly beside her. She must have stayed like that for hours, as the sun began to set again outside her window. When she finally lifted her head and wiped the tears from her face, she saw a dark-haired man sitting beside her bed, looking at her lovingly with his pale blue eyes. A smile suddenly appeared on her face and she began to laugh, pulling the man into a tight embrace.

some explanations because i know that story is kinda mind-fucking:

• Is Robert Fischer all a creation of the readers mind?

- No he actually exists, he’s her boss and she‘s in love with him, so she imagines dating him.

• When is he real, when is he fake?

- - The Robert Fischer in the office is real, he turns her down when she asks him out, leaving YN heartbroken. The moment she leaves the office, she starts to imagine what it would be like if he apologised to her, so the man who follows her is just her imagination. The real Robert Fischer is still in his office at Fischer-Morrow.

When she visits the city on Saturday and meets "Robert" and goes on a date with him, it's also just her imagination. That's why other people react to her with confusion, because she's basically talking to herself all the time. On Sunday morning, when she wakes up next to him, he's still fake. When she takes her pills, he quickly "disappears" (he says he has to pick up his daughter...) because they stop her delusions.

On Monday morning, when she gets back to her office, the real Robert Fischer is there again, who hadn't seen her since he had rejected her on Friday evening.

When she gets home, she throws away her pills and her delusions begin again. The man who sat next to her on the bed and comforted her is again the imaginary version of Robert.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian #robert fischer x reader #robert fisch x yn #cillian x y/n #cillian masterlist #cillian x fem!reader #inception #inception fanfiction #Oppenheimer #tommy shelby

[seat-safety-switch]

"To let you in on a little secret, sir, we here at the town service centre are required to satisfy any taxpayer request that is made repeatedly, or with threats of violence, no matter how stupid."

In the last couple of years, all the violent reactionary assholes showing up at my local town hall had finally pushed the civil servants into adopting a new policy. It's a lot like the rule at 7-Eleven: you can have all the money in the register, I'll even help you put it in the bag, please don't shoot me. Like the hard-working convenience store employees, the government folks would call the cops afterward, too, except that in the case of town hall, it's usually the cops making the threats.

Either way, I just had to fire up the ol' email machine and send fourteen hundred angry emails in a row asking for some road improvements, and boom. FIA race-specification curbs on my way to work. Now I don't have to worry about curbing my wheels when I go a little wide on that turn by the daycare, and with that extra confidence, I can finally wind third gear all the way out on that tricky right-hand sweeper before the dog daycare. Cut four, five seconds out of my commute. Real fast shit.

Sure, there's probably a negative to our government being beholden-by-policy to whoever the loudest, most murderous warlords in town are. Standing up to them, though, that's passé. That's some hero shit, and we're all too old to believe in things like "heroes" and "scruples." Now, the kind folks who work for the city just want to make it all the way through the day without someone throwing a grenade through the window of Recreation Services because the changing room at a public pool is insufficiently mopped.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a deranged conspiracy theory to spread on Facebook. Something tells me that The Man is trying to keep the proud, freedom-loving citizens of this city from having a free nitrous oxide dispenser on the oddly straight and exactly one-quarter-mile-long two-lane road outside the industrial yards.

[qu0kkarambles]

Day 4 - Kim Seungmin

Authors note - day 4! I’m not super happy with this one but oh well

Warnings - smut (minors dni), professor x student, fingering, nudes?, inappropriate relationship

‘Y/n, please stay behind. We need to have a talk.’

As the professor asked you to stay, a million scenarios raced across your mind in an instant. Had you done something wrong? Had you missed an assignment? Was there a problem with your grades?

You packed your things into your bag, your heartbeat racing as you waited for the remaining students to filter out of the classroom. Whatever it was that professor Kim needed to talk to you about, he seemed calm, which in turn, calmed you as well.

‘Well y/n, I suppose you know why we needed to have this little talk?’ He asked, eyes scanning over you.

‘No sir, I - I have no idea’ you said, your voice shaking. His calm tone now seemed almost mocking, your lack of awareness the butt of a hilarious joke.

‘Don’t act dumb y/n. Your assignment submission last night? Ring any bells?’ He asked, his voice mocking.

Shit. Was your assignment that bad? You had struggled with the topic but thought you at least had a decent grasp on the concept. His look said otherwise though as he perched on his desk, waiting for you to respond.

‘I’m sorry sir. I-I struggled with the topic a bit but I thought I had understood it in the end. I g-guess not.’ You said, voice choking as you tried to hold back your tears. You really needed this grade, your graduation depending on it.

‘Y/n, come take a look at my computer. Your submission is loaded up on the screen’ he said, his voice no longer mocking as he motioned you over to his desk. As you stood, you saw your email, clicking on the link, curious to see what was wrong with your submission.

Immediately, your eyes widened, face flushing red as you saw your own topless selfie pop up across the screen. Your breath was taken from you, and without you noticing, professor Kim had moved incredibly close to you, his chest inches from your back as he stood behind you.

‘I- oh my god professor I swear- I didn’t mean to- oh my god I must have attached the wrong thing. Oh my god I can’t believe I sent that’ you were babbling, on the brink of tears from your embarrassment as professor kim took a step back.

‘You didn’t mean to send it?’ He asked, his brow furrowed. ‘Of course not oh my god I’m so embarrassed’ you replied, burying your face in your hands.

‘Did you think I had sent it on purpose, sir?’ You said, eyes questioning him.

‘Ahhhh…. Umm- I guess you caught me’ he replied, looking down at the floor as he shuffled his feet.

‘Wait what? You thought I sent it for you?’

‘I wouldn’t say thought, more… secretly hoped? Look ignore me okay it was wrong of me to think about and I shouldn’t hav-‘

You cut him off as you pressed your lips to his, catching him off balance as his hands found arms, holding you still.

‘Y/n? What-?’ His face was blushed red as you pulled back from him, your own face matching in colour as you realised what you had just done.

You tried to step away from him, forgetting his hand was now firmly gripping your arm. ‘Not so fast. On the desk. Now.’ He said, his voice firm as you complied eagerly.

‘Professor -‘

‘Call me seungmin. Or sir’ he replied, his lips crashing into yours as his hands looped around your waist. Sat on his desk, you were the perfect height for him to stand snuggly between your legs, your hips grinding into him as his hands trailed your body.

His fingers found the hem of your skirt, lifting it up as his hands explored higher up your thighs. When he found the cotton front of your panties, you could hear his panting. He pulled away from your lips, focusing his kisses along your neck as he slipped a finger beneath the fabric, finally feeling you.

You bit your lower lips, holding your moans the best you could as his finger explored you. Soon, another finger was added, your teeth sharp on his shoulder as you bit down, desperate to hide your sounds. His lips kissed against your own as he began curling his fingers, your whines lost in his mouth as his tongue teased your own.

‘Fuck- I’m- sir! Close!’ You said, panting the words as you continued to grind your hips into his movements, chasing your high.

‘That’s it baby. Cum for me’ he said, his eyes locked on yours as he helped you reach the edge. Soon, your legs were shaking around him, your fingers tangled in his messy brown hair, clinging to him.

You were sure you looked a mess. Hair pulled and tangled, lips, red and swollen, and thighs sticky with your release. But regardless of it all, seungmin pulled you closer, meeting your lips with his own as he fixed your clothes. He held out his hand, a helping support for you to slide off his desk, your clothes straightening out even more as you stood.

‘Well y/n. This was a very successful meeting, he said, his smirk plastered across his face. ‘I do hope you’ll stop by my office for another one to one? I’m almost always alone in there. Would be nice to have the company and we can finish our….discussions’ he said with a wink.

‘Of course, sir’ you replied, a small smile across your face. ‘And I’ll be sure to submit that assignment.’

#kpop smut #kinktober #kpop kinktober #skz smut #seungmin smut #stray kids smut

[earthtoharlow]

Teach Me

Here’s the first fic that’s part of my one year anniversary celebration, where there's a new fic every tuesday!

January

MASTERLIST

“Daddy, you made my bun lopsided!”

All Jack could do was sigh and redo his daughter’s hair again. They were going to be late if they kept this up. It was January, and it was the first day of school from winter break.

“Ok, Jayla, is this better?” Jack watched as she turned in her seat on top of the bathroom counter. He couldn’t help but smile at the expression on her face as she tapped her pointer finger to her chin as she inspected her hair. “A LOT BETTER!”

“Thank god!” Jack said as he lifted her off the counter. If they didn’t leave in the next 5 minutes, she was going to be late. “Ok, soldier, I need you to go put on your shoes and wait for daddy at the door.”

Jayla stood at attention “Sir, yes sir!” She saluted him before taking off down the hall and towards her room. Moments later Jack hears her feet running back towards him, Jayla popped her head back into the bathroom “Thank you for doing my hair, daddy!”

“You’re welcome, mamas.”

The drive to school was pretty quiet other than the sounds of Jayla playing with her Bratz dolls in the backseat. Jack heard the little girl let out a deep dramatic sigh as he pulled into the school parking lot. He ignored the sigh as he got out the car to open her door, knowing what was coming next.

As he opened the door, Jayla sighed again but louder.

“Daddy…” Jayla said in almost a whine

“Yes, mamas.” Jack said while still unbuckling her out of her seat.

“Can I miss one day of school please?!” Jack had to give it to her, the puppy dog eyes were top notch. But he knew better than to give in. “You can’t, Jay. We’ve talked about this.”

Out of the car now, Jayla stomped her foot on the pavement and crossed her arms. “Why do you get to stay home all day and I can’t?!” She exclaimed looking up at him with her hands now on her hips. Jack bent down to her eye level.

“I’m at home working—“

“I can work from home too!”

All Jack could do was drop his head in a sigh, wishing her mother was here for moments like this.

“There’s things teachers can teach you that daddy can’t. It’s only for a couple hours.” Jack watched as Jayla continued to pout in front of him.

“And remember how excited you were when you found out you were getting a new teacher!” Jayla’s eyes widened in excitement.

“Yeah! Because Miss Brown had a baby!” She exclaimed

“Exactly, so if you don’t go you’ll miss out on the chance to meet her!”

Jayla starts bouncing on her toes before grabbing Jack’s hand and starts dragging him towards the entrance of the school.

“C’mon, slow poke!”

Jack couldn’t help but laugh at that as he followed behind her.

JACKHARLOW

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jackharlow: I think I’m getting better at this hair thing…

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urbanwyatt: took you long enough

user: Jack come out of retirement

user: does anyone know why he doesn’t make music anymore

user: ok you ate

user: sooo cute

user: this nice and all but dude we haven’t heard new music from you in years

“Jack, you sure you don’t want to hold on to this track, it's fire!” His long-time engineer, Nickie Jon asked him.

Jack just shook his head. He was happy with being a ghostwriter. Less pressure.

“But, Jack—“ the sound of Jack’s phone ringing interrupted whatever Nickie was going to say next. Jack breathed a sigh of relief before pulling his phone out his pocket.

Bloom Elementary School

Jack immediately answered the phone.

“Hello?” Jack said as he started grabbing his things. The school has never called him. Not even once.

“Hello. Mr. Harlow. I’m Miss Love, Jayla’s first grade teacher.”

Jack knew who she was, well kinda. The school was always sending daily emails. Reminders on how Jayla was doing, upcoming PTA meetings etc. So he remembers the email about Jayla’s class getting a new teacher after winter break. Back when Jack was in the public eye, he was more involved with the school since he was an alumni. The last few years Jack didn’t do many public appearances at the school, but would still anonymously donate money. He couldn’t stand the stares and whispers and people feeling sorry for him.

“Is everything alright?” Jack asked in a slight panic. His hand was already on the doorknob ready to leave. He was getting flashbacks to four years ago when his life changed drastically.

“She’s fine, I promise.”

Jack felt like a weight had been lifted as he released the breath he was holding. “Fuck, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Mr. Harlow.” She practically scolded him over the phone.

“Sorry, sorry! You just scared me, that's all.” Jack ran his hand through his already curls. Jack leaned against the door of his home studio. He felt like he needed to pick his heart up from the ground.

“No I’m sorry, I really should’ve opened with something better.” Miss Love said, sounding apologetic.

“It’s okay, how can I help you, Miss Love?”

“I was wondering if I could have a meeting with you after school? Jayla got into an altercation at school during recess.”

“Uh what? Jayla got in a fight?” Jack questioned. That did not sound like his child.

He listened as Miss Love cleared her throat before speaking again which made Jack stand up straighter. Yeah, Jayla was a tad bit sassy, and could be a chatter box but she had never gotten into any sort of trouble at school. She was very kind and was always nice to everyone around her. He couldn’t imagine her getting into a fight.

“She pushed another classmate at the playground, and while it wasn’t unwarranted I want to try to avoid this happening again in the future.”

Jack took a hand and rubbed his temples. “Yeah, of course. Can we talk today, after school?”

“Sounds good, see you soon Mr. Harlow.”

“Thanks for calling, Miss Love.”

When Jack was younger he always dreamed of settling down In Louisville and having kids with the person he loved. 

Jack met Jayla’s mother, Alyssa backstage at one of his concerts and it was love at first sight. They dated for a couple years before she ended up pregnant. They were only 22 years old, one of his first hits WHATS POPPIN was topping the charts. They say the best moments in life are completely unexpected. While they were scared of bringing a baby into the world when they were both so busy, they couldn’t be happier. 

The first couple months after Jayla was born were tough. With Jack’s schedule getting busier and busier and her Alyssa going through postpartum, the two spent many nights staying awake and crying together.

Jack’s parents tried to help out the best she could but while Jack and Alyssa were grateful for all the help they didn’t want to be so dependent on them. 

Thankfully, things did get easier for them and they were on track to raising a beautiful and wonderful baby girl. If you had told Jack back then that years later he would unexpectedly become a single father, he would have laughed in your face.

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Being a teacher wasn’t always on Ariel Love’s vision board. She had dreams of becoming a writer. It wasn’t until she was offered a student teacher position in college that she fell in love with teaching. That's where she found out that working with kids was the most fun and rewarding job ever. 

Ariel was born in Kentucky but moved to DC when she was only a little girl. It wasn’t till her principal at her old school presented her with a job opportunity to teach first grade back in Kentucky that she decided to move. During her interview with Bloom Elementary, they loved her background in writing and her work experience that they decided to hire her. 

She has never taught her own class before, having always been a teacher’s assistant. That being said, she was very excited for her first day. 

She had no idea that she was going to have to call home to one of her kids on her very first day. Miss Brown, the class's former teacher, had left notes on her kids so that she knew what she was working with. Ariel was shocked when she had to stop Jayla Harlow from hurting another child, Miss Brown only had positive things to say about her. 

Even now it was hard to believe that the little girl who was sitting at her desk coloring had almost got in a fight today. 

After the situation at recess, Ariel had heard whispers about Jayla’s father. Apparently, he used to be some super hot big time rapper before he suddenly retired and fell off the face of the earth. None of the whispers could prepare her for when he walked into her classroom. Walking in wearing a gray new balance tracksuit with new balance to match. A gold KY chain dangled around his neck and it looked identical to the one Jayla was wearing today. He had a beautiful set of bright blue eyes, with a scruffy beard and a head full of messy curls that looked like he was constantly running his fingers through. 

Their eyes met for a second before he walked over to Jayla’s desk to greet her. Ariel watched as he pulled Jayla into his chest for an embrace and placed a kiss on her forehead. She couldn’t hear what he whispered in her ear but she could hear Jayla’s silent reply “okay, daddy.” Before quietly plopping back down in her seat. 

Ariel stood from her seat as Mr. Harlow walked towards her. “Thank you for stopping by, Mr Harlow.” She said as she extended her hand for him to shake, and immediately noticed there was no ring on his finger. She felt her face get warm as his large hand grabbed hers. 

“Uh, please call me Jack. I’m not even thirty yet so Mr. Harlow makes me feel old.”

“Ok, Jack. And since we’re going to be on a first name basis, you can call me Ariel.”

“Ariel,” he said slowly. “Like the mermaid?”

She could help but laugh at that. “Yes, exactly like the mermaid.”

She then motioned towards the seat in front of her desk. “Please, have a seat.”

“First, I just wanted to apologize for this morning. Definitely didn’t mean to scare you with the call.” Ariel began to ramble. 

Jack just shook his head and waved away her apology. “It’s alright, I promise.”

“You said on the phone that she pushed someone?”

Ariel sat up straighter at her desk. “Yes. While I’ve only been Jayla’s teacher for about…” she looked down at her watch “five hours now, I can already tell she’s a wonderful student. Miss Brown only had the best things to say about her. One of our classmates was bothering a little girl from the kindergarten class, she did use her words before pushing the child. I’ve spoken to both of their parents about the situation as well."

“It won’t happen again, I’ve always taught her to keep her hands to herself. Right, Jayla?” Jack said before turning around and giving his daughter a stern look. 

Jayla lifted her head up at the call of her name. “Right, but daddy they were being mean to Nova…so I’m not that sorry! ” Jayla exclaimed 

Jack immediately turned back towards Ariel. “The student was Nova Wyatt?” 

While she wasn’t supposed to give out this information, she figured that there was no point in lying to him. 

“Yes, I assume you know her?”

“Yeah, I’m her godfather, and Nova’s dad is Jayla’s”

Jack sighed and placed his head in hands for a moment. He then lifted his head to speak again. “Shit, I’m sorry. Is there going to be any disciplinary actions for Jayla?” He asked before taking a look at Jayla before looking at Ariel once more.

Ariel narrowed her eyes at him for cursing again before shaking her head no. “Between me and you, Jayla was really upset about the situation. She immediately understood what she did was wrong. She’s not a bad kid, just protective over the people she loves.”

She watched as Jack nodded and let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I really appreciate it, is that all?” He asked as he went to stand. 

Ariel nodded and grabbed a purple sticky note and wrote her number down. “As you know, I of course have your number because it’s in Jayla’s file but I wanted to give you mine.” She handed Jack her number and tried to ignore the small spark she felt when his fingers grazed hers as he took the slip 

“My line is always open. You can ask me anything pertaining Jayla or about school events coming up. I can even send you little updates about her throughout the day.”

Jack smiled while looking at the note, loving the way she dotted her i’s with hearts. “Thanks, I’ll definitely reach out about school related things. I would love updates about Jayla, I miss her during the day.”

“You can even text me even if it’s not about school events.” Ariel blurted out, jesus first day of teaching and she’s already making a fool out of herself in front of a parent. At least this one is cute.

Jack could tell she was embarrassed but there was no reason too because he was planning on doing that anyway. “Hm, I think I will.” He told her with a smirk on his face. 

Ariel’s face warmed at that. “I think that’s all. You and Jayla are free to go.”

She watched as Jack grabbed Jayla’s Bratz backpack and swung it over his shoulders as they walked towards the door. 

“BYE, Miss, Love! See you tomorrow. I won’t push anyone tomorrow, I promise!” Jayla told her with a wave

She tried to hold in her laughter. “Bye, Jayla! We’ll have a better day tomorrow, I’m sure.” She gave the two one last wave before tending to the paperwork on her desk. 

Ariel could help but smile huge at the exchange she heard outside her door. 

“Daddy, were you flirting with Miss Love?”

“Will you quiet down?”

there was a beat of silence. 

“well…were you?”

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AN: Tried to leave this as open ended as possible so if enough people enjoy this I'll continue writing :) tell me your thoughtssss!

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[mxssingmemories]

Hey can write a fic where r is tony kid (dont care for the gender) tony was called to pick up r thinking they did something bad but instead its this

Like r used bear glue and got multiple of them stuck all of the school years later r is part of the avengers and they find out about this little prank

the school incident // tony stark x daughter!reader

summary: you've always been the type to enjoy pulling a good prank. unfortunately, your newest idea gets you caught and in major trouble. what happens when your dad (and the avengers) find out?

wc: 1k~

warnings: a giant penis (NOT nsfw i promise)

a/n: this was so much fun and i am SO sorry it's so late <3

When Tony got the text message that you needed to be picked up from school, he freaked out. His brain ran through so many scenarios so fast it made him dizzy; what if you’d gotten in a fight? What if you started a fight? What if you and Peter messed up big time? 

He shook his head to clear his mind, and ran down to the garage.

“Everything alright, Boss?” Happy asked, eyebrows knitted together. Tony just nodded, and slipped into his car. The fifteen minute ride to your school was filled with worry from him, the foot that wasn’t pressing on the gas pedal bouncing up and down repeatedly. He told himself to breathe; you didn’t need your dad to walk into the office panicking like a mad man.

He pulled into the parking space as quickly as possible, rushing to the all too familiar Principal’s office. “Hi, I’m here for Y/N Stark?,” he told the receptionist. She seemed to forget how to use words when she motioned him to the back. A blush rose on her face as he left, and if it were any other time Tony would have flirted with her just to embarrass you.

The air in the office was tense, and you sat in one of the seats with a blush on your face. You looked up to see your dad’s relieved expression that quickly turned into one of frustration when he realized you weren't hurt.

“Good afternoon, Mr.Stark. I’m sorry to pull you out of whatever..business you were dealing with, but Y/N pulled something we just can’t ignore.”

“It’s perfectly fine, sir. What did she do?” he asked him, his eyes narrowing at you across the table.

“I don’t think there is a delicate way to put this, Mr.Stark, so I’m just going to lay it all out for you. Miss Stark was caught on video supergluing what seems to be a massive..sex toy,” she muttered under her breath,”with one Peter Parker. His guardian has already been made aware of this and appropriate action has been taken. ”

Tony was, for once, speechless. He looked at you, the Principal, and back at you a few times. You could feel your ears begin to turn red as the silence got longer and longer, doing your best not to burst out laughing as it would only make the situation worse. His jaw was wide open, and he finally snapped back to reality when you reached across the table to shut it for him.

“What the absolute hell?” He yelled, forgetting where you both were for a second. You blushed even harder, hiding a snicker behind your sleeve despite your dad’s very obvious anger.

“I have somewhere to be, but I hope you have a good day. Please send me an email with the information about what you’re going to do with her. I assure you this will be taken care of,” he rambled gruffly, grabbing your arm and dragging you out of the office quickly.

On your way out, you passed the foyer. Despite your best efforts, Tony peered through the blinds to get a look at the “issue.” It was big enough to be seen from the office, and this just seemed to piss your dad off more. He averted his eyes quickly. His jaw was clenched so hard, you contemplated sticking your ring between his teeth as a joke, but decided against it knowing it would only make the situation worse.

The drive home was tense. His fist was tightly wrapped around the gearshift, only taking his eyes off the road to throw a glare or two at you. The minute you arrived at the tower, he grabbed your arm once again and took you to the personal floor.

“What were you thinking?! You could have jeopardized your education! Do you realize what this will look like to colleges?!” 

For some reason, you giggled a little bit, and the giggle turned into a laughing fit. Tony quickly joined you, laughing so hard tears were coming out of both of your eyes. 

“I can’t even pretend it’s not funny anymore,” he wheezed, bending over and dramatically falling to the floor. 

“You know what makes it even funnier?” you giggled, looking your dad in the eyes. “That wasn’t even the only one!” you shrieked, putting your head between your knees as you cackled. 

This only caused you both to laugh harder, clutching your stomachs like your lives depended on it. It took about five minutes for you both to sober up from the laughing ordeal, and an extra 5 for Tony to put his serious dad face back on.

“I have to admit it was a really good prank,” he smiled at you. “Even though it was fuckin’ hilarious, you’re still in hot water. I’m going to let you go without punishment this time, little miss, but if it happens again there will be actual consequences. Okay, sweetheart?”

You nodded your head in agreement, already bounding up the stairs to tell Pepper what happened.

“TONY!” She yelled downstairs, and he braced himself for the unavoidable lecture. In his opinion, though, it was worth it.

The team was in the main living room, gathered around a few files dealing with some “official business.” Amidst the normal files, there was one that stood out. It was titled “The School Incident.”

Even though they knew they shouldn’t be snooping, their curiosity outweighed their morals, and they clicked on the file.

In it was security footage from your school, detailing the exact moment the prank was pulled. Everyone sat around the table in shock, silence filling the room as they processed what they’d just seen. Apparently, you’d decided that this was the exact moment to walk in, and the Avengers all stared at you when you made your entrance. Dropping your backpack at the door heavily, you flopped down on the couch exasperatedly. 

“Y’all. I had such a weird day, this guy named- Why is everyone looking like they just saw a ghost?” you asked, confusion spelled out on your face. Your eyes focused next on what the team had pulled up on the screen, and realization flashed in your eyes as you jumped up and ran out of the room. You didn’t even bother trying to explain. The Avengers burst out into laughter as they followed you out of the room, the ruckus so loud it Peter could probably hear it in Queens. You had no choice but to run, and run you did.

#marvel #marvel cinematic universe #my writing #jules writes #tony stark #tony stank #tony stark x daughter!reader #definitely one of the weirdest (and funniest) requests i had sitting in my inbox #thank you for this