#and I’m already drowning in student debt

[nitro502]

Kinda ticks me off that my parents made a big deal about not being able to help me pay for extremely necessary dental work, and then decided to go on a spontaneous trip to Disney World that probably cost them just as much.

[thisperfectmonsoon]

Dream job, dream car, and let me cook for you

1. head librarian at a local library. where I could curate a library and run community programs and make the library a wonderful place to be.

2. something fast, shiny, and chromed the fuck out. I’m a jersey girl after all.

3. that’s not a question u doofus 😂

[cimmanonrowl]

Eat Your Young pt.2

Part One | Masterlist

Coming down from the high that Aaron introduced you to feels impossible at this point. Following your very first encounter after his arrival, there isn't a day that he didn't make you feel desired and pleasured. And what better way to have him sated than letting him fuck you senseless out of pure unadulterated jealousy?

Pairing: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader

Theme: smut heaven

Contents: age gap, oral fixation, oral (f) receiving, masturbation, cum play, overstimulation, squirting, breeding kink, daddy & sir kink, unprotected, rough sex, angry sex, jealous!aaron, size difference, belly bulging, dirty talk, powerplay: boss/employee dynamic, pure filth, pussy-eater, bearded aaron.

You weren’t sure what was waiting ahead when you accepted the job. 

For one, it was a blessing, given your old employers were moving out of state and you couldn’t go with them. They wanted to bring you, of course. They wanted you to come with them but you had to decline as you have plans of your own after you finish your studies. It was a hard decision to make. You were with the family for almost three years, they helped you through University so you don’t drown in student loans and debt, and the kids loved you as much as you loved them. Even without telling you, you could tell their parents felt bad you’re losing your only financial support at the moment.

That was when Jessica was sent to you like an angel in disguise.

She was an acquaintance; a close friend to your employers, so in a way you knew the woman and some bits of her life. You knew that she was taking care of her nephew, although occasionally; a young kid named Jack. You knew that she loved looking after him but her new promotion at work demanded more and more of her time, so she and her brother-in-law had to look for extra help. Apparently, Jack’s father was a very busy man, as you were told.

And that was when you became part of the Hotchners.

For them, you were heaven-sent.

“I’m fine, Jess…” you mumbled over the phone as you read the street sign quietly. You were almost there, almost, heaving a little as you dragged your suitcase behind you. “Of course, I’m nervous… you know how it is. I’m not very good with…”

“Kids?” you heard her breathy laughter at the other line, more teasing than incredulous.

You chuckled in return, shaking your head. “Fathers, actually. It’s different talking to women and knowing how exactly they want things to be done. Fathers aren’t like that. They expect— they just expect you to figure out everything.”

“Aaron isn’t like that,” she assured you, her voice kind. “You’ll see. He knows how he likes things and will tell you so. He’s a good man.”

Your heart hammered against your chest. He knows how he likes things. And he will tell you so. That’s supposed to be an assurance, right? So, why on Earth were you blushing?

Must be because of those damn pictures, a voice in your head whispered. Last night– maybe it was the nerves, or your plain curiosity after hearing many stories about the man that you let yourself get swayed by temptation. You were not one to research about your employers. A brief personal background was always provided by the agency to ensure that employees like you will be in safe hands, and it has always been enough. But last night, for some reason, you felt the need to know him.

In the past week you were negotiating with Jessica, you never met Mr. Hotchner. You thought it was weird and so reckless of him. He’s a federal agent. You expected him to be paranoid, careful at a fault. Why wouldn’t he insist on meeting firsthand the stranger who will take care of his son? The one he’ll let inside his home? It seemed like he didn’t care at all. All you knew was he was out on a case and wouldn’t be home at least for a couple more days. You don’t even know what this man looks like.

You met his son three days ago, though, and you already love the kid. Jack was a little shy at first, soft-spoken, but cheeky as he was polite. You wondered since then if he got that from his father. But you thought it was unlikely when you started digging information from the internet.

“So serious…” you whispered as you plucked the cherry from the stem, chewing slowly as you continued scrolling through the available pictures of him on the web. 

There were YouTube links that also popped out when you typed in his name. You knew he’s some kind of bigshot fed but it still shocked you when you realized Mr. Hotchner had to stand in front of the camera and make public announcements on the news. It was impossible not to notice that face. But the least you could say is he looks good. Then you had to stop yourself there and divert your attention to the flaws you could pinpoint.

He looks strict and scary. In every video you opened, there was a tight frown on his face. It looks like he barely smiles or doesn’t know how to, and that he’s always constipated. What a poor man. You could already imagine your days in their household getting shouted at for being clumsy.

“You’re here! Dad, she’s here! Dad! She’s here!” the familiar voice of a young boy cut through your thoughts. 

You stood still outside the closed gate of your new residence, peering over where a kid was running toward your direction, and an older man distractedly dribbling a basketball in a mini court. He was topless and sweaty. His arms strong, his muscles taut. And even from a distance, you could tell that he was watching you, too.

Then your eyes met and he smiled, warm and so kind.

At that moment you knew that this wouldn’t be bad after all.

You glanced at the clock on the wall. It’s late— later than you realized and Aaron still wasn’t home after a long day in the office. You’ve learned not to worry too much as you’ve grown accustomed to his late nights. He always comes home to you and Jack. But every night, there was a part of you that couldn’t fully relax until you heard the sound of his key in the door.

The clock just struck half past 10 o’clock. Most of the lights were already dimmed and the house was filled with silence. Jack had just gone to bed. These past few days, you realized how things changed. It took you almost an hour to convince him to get off his iPad and stop the game he was playing with his friends, and another hour before he fell asleep reading you his book of choice for this week. Which explains why you’re still up at this hour.

The soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen was the only sound that accompanied you as you moved through the living room, gathering up Jack’s scattered Lego blocks and soldier figurines. It was all over the place. You told him countless times to clean up his mess before eating dinner, but he just shrugged you off and told you he’d clean it up later. Hours passed by and he seemed to forget about his promise as he was already engrossed with the weird game he was playing on his iPad. 

Jack was growing fast. And as much as the thought put an ache in your heart, you knew this was also inevitable.

But the thing is, you have no idea how you should deal with these changes. You didn’t dare scold him, no– considering your growing relationship with his father. You didn’t want him to think that you were crossing the line of acting like his mother, or a replacement for her. So, you thought it was better you wait for Aaron to come home and bring up this issue instead.

Another deep sigh escaped your lips as you bent down to pick up another handful of Lego blocks. You’re ready to go to bed, already clad in your satin nightgown, a pale pink that clings to your curves; feeling soft and smooth against your skin. The thin straps would occasionally slip off your shoulders as you reach for more toys, and the hem would brush against your thighs as you move.

“Didn’t think you’d still be up…”

You froze at the voice, still bent over, before straightening up and turning toward the entryway just as Aaron stepped inside. 

His presence filled the space immediately. He’s still in his work clothes— a dark suit that looks a little rumpled from the long day, his tie loosened and his shirt collar open. His hair was slightly disheveled, and you noticed the tiredness in his eyes that he tried to hide as he closed the door behind.

For a moment, his eyes lingered on you, taking in the way the satin nightgown hugged your body, the fabric clinging to the curve of your hips, the way the hem fluttered around your thighs. There was a brief flicker of something in his gaze, appreciative, and scandalously lustful. You saw the slight tug at the corner of his lips behind his thick beard.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he greeted.

Your heart did that familiar, annoying little skip when he languidly crossed the room and caged you in his arms. He sighed deeply, kissed your forehead then your lips, before resting his cheeks at the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

“Rough day, Mr. Hotchner?” you wanted to tease him, but with his hot breath fanning over your neck, the coarse hair of his beard against your skin, your words came out breathless.

You heard him groan, his voice low and a little rough when he said, “You have no idea, baby. Why are you still up, anyway? Did Jack gave you a hard time?”

“He’s just growing, Aaron. That’s how it is.”

“So he did?” he concluded, “I’ll talk to him, baby. There’s just too much going on at work.”

You hummed and nodded, running your fingers through his hair, understanding and supporting him without needing any details. You’ve never pressed him for specifics about his work and you know that Aaron was carrying enough weight on his shoulders without you adding to it. But even so, there was something in his tone and the exhaustion in his face that made you hug him tighter.

“You’re home now,” you said softly, massaging his scalp, “You should sit down for a bit. I can make you something to eat if you’re hungry.”

Just then, you felt his teeth dug gently on the skin of your neck. “How about I eat you instead?”

“Aaron…” you couldn’t help but giggle, ignoring the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

“Hmm?” 

“Not here.”

He let out a soft grunt. “You smell heavenly, baby. I want to fuck you.”

His voice was raspy, gruff from all the grueling hours he spent in the office. You squirmed and chuckled quietly as you felt his lips trailing wet kisses on your neck, the soft curve of your shoulders, and even your jaw. His thick beard tickling you with every little movement.

You let out a sigh, clamping your thighs as you felt the heat dampening your cotton underwear. “Not here, Aaron. I’ll finish- I’ll clean up this mess first.”

He didn’t seem to hear you. The rough pad of his calloused palm roamed and caressed every inch of your clothed body. His hands moved to the curve of your ass, the swell of your breast, kneading your tits roughly on his hands while rolling your now sensitive nipples in between his thick fingers.

“I missed you so much, angel…” he said in a whisper, “I can’t get enough of your little pussy. You make me so hard, feel that?”

He guided your hand to the obvious bulge in his pants. Although that idea thrilled you, your fingers trembled in embarrassment and anticipation. You glanced up at him with wide, innocent eyes, your breath caught in your throat, while he hissed as you softly cupped and pressed your palm on his restrained cock, moving your hand experimentally in circles.

“Fuck,” he grunted your name, you even saw a muscle twitch on his tight jaw. “Saw you innocently bent over when I stepped into that door. It’s almost like you’re begging someone to ruin your tight cunt, is that right, angel?”

His hand found the dampness in between your legs, already pressing his thumb on your aching clit, yet it was the crudeness of his words that made you whimper. “S-sir…”

“Use your big words, sweet girl.”

“Not s-someone, sir…” you admitted. “Just you. W-want you to use me.”

A satisfied smile played on his lips.

“I know, baby. Want me to fuck you with my big cock, don’t you? Always fucking ready to spread your legs for me, is that right?”

You nodded dumbly, blinking up at him. 

“Are you a whore?”

“N-no...” you said unsurely, “No, daddy. Not a w-whore.”

The dark look in his eyes brought you back to the memories of earlier in the morning. He gave you a small smile. “You’re daddy’s baby, I know, little girl.”

Like he always does, Aaron woke you up earlier with his face buried between your legs. He was lapping your dripping cunt like a madman, licking and sucking with his expert mouth. Two of his thick fingers were pushed deep inside you, making a lewd squelching sound as he nudged the sweet bundle of nerves inside. Your legs were trembling uncontrollably all you could do was moan and tug on Aaron’s hair. When he looked up to see your face, his beard was wet and a string of saliva was hanging from his lips and to your puffy folds.

You already came twice today. One from his mouth, as promised. And one from his big, leaking cock. He had your legs wide open, his hand pressed on the back of your thighs until you were folded almost in half, and rammed his big cock in and out of your weeping cunt with vigor. His eyes were focused on where you were both connected, watching in awe how you willingly swallow his thick cock in your body. He enjoyed watching the bulge appear in your stomach with every deep thrust.

He called you sweet names as he came inside you, flooding your womb with his warm cum. It took him all the self-control (and a message from Morgan) not to bend you again over the sink as he watched you walk to the bathroom, his release slowly dripping down your legs. And he wished you only knew how he wanted to push it back inside and keep his cock buried in your raw cunt for the rest of the day.

- - - - - - - ⋆ ★

The Saturday sun beamed over the soccer field where kids are darting back and forth in a burst of energy. The sidelines were lined with parents and family members, all chatting and watching the game with varying degrees of attention. You were standing among them, your eyes following Jack as he weaved between the other kids, his face bright with determination. Every now and then, his laughter carries across the field, and you couldn’t help but smile as well.

Aaron was beside you, his arms crossed as he watched Jack with that focused intensity he always seemed to have when it comes to his son. You could tell that as much as they were both competitive, he was worried that some accidents may happen. 

“I’m going to check in with Jack for a minute,” Aaron informed you as he let go of your intertwined hand, nodding toward the bench where Jack was sitting during a break. “Be right back.”

You nodded and watched in silence as Aaron strode across the field toward Jack, the sun catching in his dark hair. You took a deep breath, relaxing a little now that you were alone for a moment. It feels good to be outside, to be with Aaron, but you hate the weird glances some mothers were throwing at you. As if you were doing something illegal.

Just as you were about to take a seat on one of the folding chairs, a familiar man approached you from the side, his expression friendly. You recognized him as one of the other parents and father of one of Jack’s friends at school, though you don’t recall his name right away. He was tall, with sandy blond hair and a warm, easygoing smile.

“Hey there,” he said with a chuckle, gesturing toward the field. “Quite a game, huh?”

You smiled back, letting out a small laugh. “Tell me about it. My bones could never. I’m exhausted just watching them.”

The man laughed, then glanced over at the field before turning his attention back to you. “I’m Tom, by the way,” he said, offering his hand. “I’ve seen you around a few times… and my son told me last night he and Jack partnered for the bake sale activity at school.”

You shook his hand. “I think I recall Jack telling me about that bake sale. Is Jake your son?”

“Yes, that’s the one,” Tom replied, nodding fast and chuckling. “I thought you’d think I’m just making up excuses to come up to a pretty woman and start chatting with her—”

“Pretty woman?” you smiled at the compliment, glancing up at him.

“Well, yeah. Anyway…” Tom grinned shyly, clearly pleased. “Yeah, my son was crazy about beating the other boys or something like that. Tell you honestly, I have no idea what to bring. I’m useless in the kitchen, but I don’t want to be that guy who just shows up with store-bought stuff, you know?”

You laughed softly, nodding in understanding. “I do get it. But it’s a good thing they can choose a partner. If you want, I could help you out. I make a pretty mean batch of cookies.”

Tom’s face lit up with genuine gratitude. “Really? That would be amazing. I mean, only if you have time to accommodate— I don’t want to impose.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” you waved off his concern. “I like baking, plus I can invite Jake to come over so I have another little assistant.”

“Or me?” The man teased. “Just kidding. That would be incredible. You just saved me from embarrassment. The old ladies at school… they’re very, you know.”

The sound of your laughter tangled in the air. But as the laughter fades, you felt a subtle shift in the air. You unconsciously wandered your eyes around and realized Aaron was standing just a few feet away, his eyes trained on you and Tom, his expression intense. His strong arms were crossed, and there was a tightness in his jaw that wasn’t there before.

“Hey,” you greeted, offering Aaron a small smile as he stepped closer. “Everything okay with Jack?”

Aaron nodded, though his eyes briefly flickered over to Tom, taking in the easy conversation you’ve been having. “He’s fine,” Aaron replied, his voice calm but with an undercurrent of something sharper, something controlled. “Just needed a little pep talk.”

Tom, the poor man oblivious to the tension, smiled at Aaron and offered his hand. “Hi, I’m Tom. We were just talking about the kids’ upcoming school bake sale.”

Aaron shook his hand, but there was a slight stiffness to the gesture. “Aaron Hotchner. Jack’s father.”

Tom nodded, then focused back on you. “Thanks again for the offer. If it’s alright, I was thinking— maybe I should grab your number? You know, just so we can coordinate for the bake sale and all that. Would make it easier to figure out what to bring.”

He was just being friendly and practical, that’s what you know. But the suggestion lingered in the air awkwardly. You could feel Aaron tense beside you, the shift in his posture subtle but unmistakable. With hesitation, you glanced at Aaron out of the corner of your eye. His expression has hardened, his jaw clenched just enough to be noticeable, and there was a flash of something dangerous in his eyes—something possessive, territorial even. 

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Aaron stepped in, his voice low and edged with barely restrained anger. “If you need anything, you can go through me.”

Tom blinked, clearly caught off guard. He forced out a chuckle, trying to brush off the tension with a good-natured grin. “I didn’t mean anything by it, man. Just thought it’d be easier—”

“You don’t need her number for that.”

You swallowed hard, feeling everyone’s attention on the growing commotion. Aaron’s eyes were still fixed on Tom, his stance rigid, his body language screaming of a barely controlled fury. This wasn’t just about the number.

Tom raised his hands slightly, clearly trying to defuse the situation. “Hey, no problem,” he said, though there was a hint of confusion in his eyes as he glanced between you and Aaron. “Didn’t mean to step on any toes.”

You forced a tight smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Thanks, Tom. Maybe we can let the kids decide and start there.”

Tom nodded again. “Yeah, sure. I’ll catch you both around.” He gave a quick wave before turning and walking back toward the crowd of parents, his pace a bit quicker than before.

As soon as Tom was out of earshot, the silence between you and Aaron felt heavy. You could feel the heat of Aaron’s anger, his jaw still clenched as he silently watched Tom disappear into the distance.

You glanced up at Aaron, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “What was that about?”

“What?” Aaron finally tore his gaze away from Tom, turning to face you. There was a storm in his eyes, it made your breath catch. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” he admitted, his voice rougher than before. Then he mumbled, “Or him having your number. Why would he have your fucking number for? Bake sale and all that, that fucking idiot.”

You grimaced at his admission, of how easily he admitted what he felt. You’ve never seen Aaron like this before— so openly protective, so possessive— and it stirred something deep inside you that was too intense to put a name on.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “He was just being friendly, Aaron. It was harmless.”

“Maybe to you,” His voice was still tensed as he retorted. “But I didn’t trust him. And I don’t like the idea of other men thinking they can just… move in like that.”

You bit back a smile, a little amused by his jealousy.

“We were talking about bake sales, not making any plans to run off together,” you nudged his arm with your elbow teasingly.

Aaron took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he stared down at you. “Oh, so you can joke. Do you think this is funny?”

“What? Of course no–”

“Jack will be out on a sleepover,” he leaned closer to your ear just to whisper, “We’ll fucking talk later, hm? Save your explanations ‘cause I’ll fuck you like a whore.”

Your breath staggered as you pressed your lips shut. You knew by then that it was going to be a long, long night.

- - - - - - - ⋆ ★

The door slammed against the wall with a loud bang as you and Aaron stumbled inside, your bodies pressed tightly together. His big, calloused hands were on your waist, pulling you closer to him, his fingers digging into your skin as your mouths crashed together in a rough, desperate kiss.

Everything felt hazy, like you were moving through a dream, but there was nothing gentle about the way you were kissing him, or the way his hands were gripping you. It felt like he couldn’t get close enough. It was frantic, dirty, almost reckless, as if both of you were on the verge of losing control and neither of you cared.

You barely noticed the door swing shut behind you as Aaron pushed you roughly up against the wall, his mouth never leaving yours, his breath hot and uneven as he kissed you like it was the only thing keeping him alive. The force of the impact sent a shockwave through your body, but the only thing you could focus on was him— his scent, his warmth, the feeling of his lips on yours, the way his strong body felt pressed up against you.

“Aaron…” you managed to gasp out between kisses, your voice breathless. You could barely think, your mind clouded with desire, but his name slipped from your lips like a plea, a litany. “D-daddy... slow- slow... down...”

His hands were everywhere— on your waist, your hips, sliding down to the curve of your thighs as he gripped you tightly, pressing his bulge against your needy cunt. You gasped into his mouth, the sound swallowed by another fierce kiss as his body pinned you harder against the wall, pressing you there as if you might disappear if he let go.

“I’m s-sorry… D-daddy, please…”

“Please what?” he groaned against your mouth, his lips trailing down to your jaw, then to your neck, the coarse hair on his chin scraping against your skin as he kissed a heated path down your throat. “Now you’re sorry? Bet you fucking liked the attention earlier. Thought you aren’t a whore?”

“No. I’m sorry, daddy. I’m sorry. I’m not—”

His rough hands slid up your sides, gripping the hem of your shirt and yanking it up and over your head with a quick, impatient movement. The cool air hit your skin, but it was immediately replaced by the warmth of his touch as his hands moved over your bare skin, his fingers digging into your flesh like he wanted his mark so deeply ingrained in your skin and your whole being.

“Feels like you’re forgetting who you belong to.”

You shook you head, moaning as you felt his hand travel closer to your heat. “No, no. I belong to you, sir. Only you. I’m so sorry, daddy.”

“Are you?” he barked a taunting laugh. “And why do you belong to me then, little girl? Why does this pussy belong to me?”

“Because… b-because you take care of m-me, daddy.”

“I fucking do, don’t I?” he remarked, tracing soft circles on your clit through the rough fabric of your jeans. “And I’m so fucking good to you. So why are you fucking ungrateful, angel? Batting your eyelashes and giggling with other men like a cheap whore on the streets?”

You felt like crying. Tears welled at the corner of your eyes, your heart hammering painfully against your chest. You messed up and now he’s mad. But you don’t like the words coming out of his mouth. You only want to be daddy’s good girl.

“I’m s-sorry, sir. Won’t happen again, I-I promise.”

“No, baby. I bet you it won’t,” he pulled back for a second, his eyes dark and filled with something primal, his chest rising and falling with the force of his ragged breaths. “I’ll fuck you until your little belly’s round with my cum and you’re pregnant with my child. I’ll knock you up so every man will know whose cock split your tight cunt open. You like that, little girl? You want to be a good whore for daddy?”

You nodded and grabbed the back of his neck, pulled him back down to you, crashing your lips together again as the two of you stumbled further into the room, barely able to focus on anything but each other. Your legs hit the edge of the couch, and before you know it, Aaron was already manspreading in front of you, while you knelt in front of him, your hands laid on your lap.

“Atta girl, look at you,” you keened at the praise, biting on your lower lip as you waited patiently for him to remove his shirt and finish unbuckling his belt.

“Can- can I suck your cock, s-sir?” you said weakly. “Please?”

Aaron hissed as his cock sprang free, slapping the base of his soft stomach. His cock was already hard and leaking, the tip shiny with beads of precum. Your mouth watered at the sight. But still, you waited for his permission, glancing up at him innocently, patiently.

He leaned on the couch and pumped his length slowly, an amused smirk on his lips. “Remove your pants.”

You whimpered and did what he told you. That wasn’t the permission you were waiting for but still you obliged eagerly. Your eyes focused on his hand slowly fisting his hardening cock before glancing up and meeting his eyes. Aaron let out a deep breath as he took in your naked body, your tits, your now swollen lips, and even your thighs that you were subtly rubbing to create some friction.

“Play with your tits, baby,” he said gruffly, “Put on a show for me like a good girl. Go on.”

There was something possessive in his gaze, a wildness that you’d never seen in him before, but it sent a thrill directly through your wet core. You played with your tits, kneaded the soft mound, and pinched your nipples making you whimper pathetically.

Aaron pumped his cock a little faster, his hungry eyes following your movements. “Spread your legs, want to see that pussy of yours.”

It felt humiliating, to scamper on your knees to follow his orders. But still you did. Because the moment you opened your legs for him, Aaron let out a loud growl and gripped his cock tightly on his fist, as if he was trying not to cum just by the sight of your wet cunt. You felt happy with his reaction.

With trembling fingers, you opened your puffy folds to show him how much you desired to be fucked, your clit swollen, your cunt desperately fluttering and clenching on nothing.

“Is that all for me?”

You nodded, your body tingling with pleasure and pride.

“D-daddy…” you sounded meek, all up for the taking. “Want you, p-please. Sir, please? Please?”

You can feel the heat radiating off him, the way his chest rises and falls with each ragged breath as he thumbed the leaking tip of his big and veiny cock. In a swift movement, he grabbed the back of your neck and kissed you harder, deeper, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made you sigh in relief.

“Ride my cock then. Show me how much you want it.”

There was hunger in him that matched your own. The sound of your highpitched whining and Aaron’s deep grunt weaved through the air. You sank down his big cock, your cunt clenching to accommodate his girth. Aaron was so big you don’t think it’s possible to get used to it, the burn of the stretch was there, but it was heady and intoxicating.

“Aaron,” you whispered again, your voice trembling with need as your fingers dug into his shoulders, urging him closer, needing more, needing him. The intensity was overwhelming, but you can’t stop—you don’t want to stop. “D-daddy, help. Help, please.”

“Pathetic,” he growled against your lips. With one sharp thrust, he plunged the rest of his cock into your raw cunt.

“T-thank you, sir…” you mewled at the feeling, grounding your hips in slow circles. “Good- feels g-good…”

His lips trailed back down your neck, your collarbone, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. His beard scratched your skin. Every touch, every kiss, feels like fire, igniting something primal deep inside of you that you hadn’t even realized was there.

“Does it, angel? Who’s making you feel good right now?”

You arched your back, pressing into him. “Y-you, sir. J-just you...”

A harsh slap landed at the side of your thigh. 

“Louder!”

“You, d-daddy! Only y-you. OH MY GOD, AARON!” you screamed, hiding your flushed cheeks at the crook of his neck as Aaron plowed his cock so deep into your frail body. “You’re making me feel g-good. You fuck me so well, daddy! I love your cock, you own me, you ow-”

You heard a low growl reverberate through his heaving chest. He propped his knees at the edge of the couch for better leverage. You felt his cock pulsating deep inside you, his thighs strong beneath your trembling legs. Your vision was blurry with unshed tears and the force of Aaron’s cock ramming inside you. The noise leaving his open lips was dirty, primal, so filthy all you could do was take it.

You let him ruin you.

Let him use you to his heart content.

Like that’s all you’re worth for.

“I’ll fuck my baby inside of you, little girl, ‘s that what you want?” he panted beneath you, his hips staggering a little. “I’ll make you all round and pretty. Everyone will know whose whore you a-are…”

Yes, yes, yes. You couldn’t bring yourself to say. You just whimpered, your voice raw and absolutely fucked out. You just let yourself feel how his cock assaulted your tight, little cunt. There was a familiar coil in your stomach, and then the familiar squelching sound.

“I-I’m s-” you squealed loudly, high-pitched and frantic. “I-I’m coming, ‘m c-coming, daddy, ple-”

Aaron grunted and plunged his cock on a particularly deep thrust, feeling the tip nestle at the sweet bundle of sensitive nerves that made you roll your eyes. You felt Aaron’s cock slide out of your used pussy, a gush of clear release dampening Aaron’s belly and the floor below.

“F-fuck! Look at that…”

“Oh- oh my go-” you bit your lower lip in overstimulation, yet you didn’t do anything to protest when he thrust his thick cock inside again. “Too much… t-too much, sen-sensitive. D-daddy! P-please, no more!”

His cock slid out the second time you squirted. Another gush of release dampened the carpet below. The force was too overwhelming your knees buckled, your legs trembling uncontrollably. You heard Aaron’s pleasured grunt as you clenched even tighter around his cock, your velvety walls hugging his girth like it was molded to be there.

“S-stop, d-daddy! S-stop…”

He scarcely heard you. You could feel every inch of him, the way his body moves against yours, the heat of his skin, the sweat, the strength in his hands as they explore every part of you. He groped you like you were nothing but a fucktoy— one that he will discard the moment he finally got his release.

“See this, little girl?” he grabbed your neck and forced you to look at your belly. You whined at the faint sight of his cock bulging against your skin. “That’s h-how deep I am, you feel that? That’s how well you take me. G-good girl, baby.”

You nodded. “S-so deep, d-daddy. You make me feel s-so good…”

“I’m so close…” you heard him whisper.

You traced the lines of his muscles, feeling the tension beneath his skin as his breath hitched against your neck. With the rest of your energy left, you lifted yourself and met his desperate thrust. The sound was lewd, disgusting– so wet and filthy.

The world outside disappeared—there was no sound, no movement, no thoughts. Just Aaron. Just him and his big, girthy cock, and his desperate thrust. Beyond the heat of his body against yours, the endless ropes of warm cum flooded your fertile womb. You only closed your eyes and let him take you. Take everything he wants from you.

“It’s coming out of your pretty cunt, baby. Look, you’re so full of my cum…” Aaron said in awe a moment later. He got you lying on your back on the couch, your legs wide open, while he knelt in front of you. He prodded your puffy folds with wide, hungry eyes. “Fuck, you’re so messy, angel.”

He licked the cum that dripped out of you. Your cunt felt raw and sore. Too used. So you whimpered as a protest. You’re too sensitive. Too sated. Too much. Too much. Too much–

Aaron smiled smugly when he saw the drunk look on your face.

“Give me one more, angel?”

Happy 600-something, everyone! I know this is long overdue but it's better late than later, right? Anyway, hope everyone's well and healthy (I'm sick right now so don't be like me!) Drink a lot of water and eat well. As always, I appreciate every like, replies, reblogs- everything. Thank you so much for the support. I love you all. See you on the next ones! xx

Tag list: @downbad4reid, @roseydoesypoesy, @pastelpinkflowerlife, @justyourusualash, @hotchsmutrecs, @msfreedom, @birdysaturne, @gghostwriter, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @fore45fore, @actualdeemon, @diksy1112, @jethro-mcgee-tony, @hotchnerbau, @iniyalovesall, @222hwilsss, @balariie, @oliviabbb, @ncis0mrs0gibbs, @jasonswhitetuftofhair, @m4pl, @zaddyhotch, @fandom-garbage, @obsessed-oops, @ujws5, @babybluelrh98, @seraphinlover, @reidsflwr, @cattt777, @fishsticksarenice-blog, @velvetinkbym

[shinsmarlboro]

Baji with a lover, who is a successful entrepreneur.

TAGS: SFW && gender neutral y/n.

when accompanying you to an event, baji definitely hypes you up, give you a standing ovation, and trust that he lets people know that he is your number one fan.

keisuke believes in you more than your own family, but that won't blind him or stop him from speaking his mind and telling you the truth when it is necessary. you appreciate the fact that he tells you what you need to hear, unlike some of your subordinates who are professional bootlickers.

you two almost had an argument about you paying for his tuition.

“nah babe, ‘s fine. what's a couple more student loans gonna cost?”

“keisuke please, you're already drowning in debt. let me at least pay half.”

you two are a stubborn couple, going at it until one of you gets tired; spoiler alert, it's him, not you.

at takehina's wedding, you get introduced to baji's friends, one of them being kokonoi and you two instantly hit it off with talking about future joint ventures and all that crap that keisuke does not want to bother understanding.

chifuyu deeply respects you. when you two first meet, he goes on about how he didn't think baji would find someone, especially as a veterinary student.

“it's nice that he's dating someone that's kinda the opposite of him. please take good care of him, i know he's rash at times but he means well.”

you find chifuyu to be a sweetheart knowing his intentions towards baji are pure, except for when he starts rambling about embarrassing moments that happened to baji back in his adolescent days as a way to keep the conversation going.

keisuke makes sure to leave messages here and there in between late night study sessions, knowing that you would be working around the same time he's online.

he would send you pictures of the strays he had gotten from the cat distribution system and ask you if he can keep it even though he doesn't live with you.

speaking of living arrangements, it is a bit complicated. he is always welcome in your penthouse and has a spare key for whenever he wants to crash at your place (something you secretly look forward to) but, his visits are moderate, unless he's tipsy and neither chifuyu nor kazutora are fit to take care of him, or he wants your accompaniment.

one time you took a risk that caused you to lose a multi-million contract. naturally, you were upset and distanced yourself from everything. baji, the ever-loving perceptive partner, noticed this and tried different silly ways to get your attention. you find it amusing that he is willing to make a fool out of himself just to get you to smile.

whenever you feel stressed, keisuke always offers to take you out on late night rides to clear your head at the beach.

you're not used to your status, so when you get overwhelmed keisuke holds you close and comforts you by stroking your hair.

“this is so pathetic. i’m sorry, it's just…hard.”

“shhh, it may hard but there isn't anything my woman can't do. you got this, okay?”

he doesn't mind getting groceries for you when he knows that you're too busy to shop for the house. he does it without telling you and even surprises you with a home cooked lunch that he gives his secretary to deliver to you as he's shy to do so himself.

did i mention that his mom absolutely adores you? your discipline and charisma are what amazes her. you have lunch dates with her every month and make sure to clear out your schedule just for her; you also enjoy flipping through baby albums with her and getting a glimpse of a younger version of keisuke.

keisuke loves it when you wear glasses, if he did something that aggravates you while you're working extra at home, he simply stares at you. with a blank expression, he admires the way the glasses frame your mesmerising face. you think he's not listening, and you get even more frustrated with him. but when he caresses your cheek and calls you beautiful, you are visibly stunned and you don't know what to do; you end up acting like him back when he had more of a tsuntsun character; now he always wants to tease you - catch you off guard with his blatant flirtation.

[studentsorrows]

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.･ ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽

hii, i’m a 22 yo in 5th year of med school (if all goes well, graduating in ‘25); i love being a pharma “TA” & i work 2 extra internships (in anesthesiology and in an ACU/ER). and i hate studying. i hate class, i have a really hard time paying attention, and i genuinely don’t know how to study.

so i made this blog with the intent to romanticize the student life, and maybe that way i can work through my issues a bit more easily.

main: @vampyricc (she/her)

yes, i’ve tested for ADHD but every psychiatrist says it’s just chronic depression and PTSD. i think i actually love medicine, but my low self esteem and insecurity (caused by my bad grades — i unfortunately rely all my self worth on academics) make me build a wall around it and freeze / avoid it at all costs.

“TA” is the best term i could find to describe what i do in english. we’re students who teach a class we’ve already taken to the students taking that class — we mostly just go over topics the class is having trouble understanding and “pre-grade” some of their assignments. to become one, a student has to finish a 1 year long course with honors (i had a 97.5% GPA) and then take an exam to compete for the spots available for that class (pharma has 6 spots, i placed 3rd). it’s like the only thing i did right.

i’ve only got the 1 year in the TA/monitoring program as an official extracurricular so far, but i just need a few signatures to officialize the retroactive years in my anesthesiology internship. i can’t do that with my ambulatory/ER job, though — i do it for money and experience.

my 3ish y. academic plan: apply for 2 or 3 internships in state teaching hospitals and hopefully get at least one of them (which would be a 12 h shift during the weekend). aside from that, either apply for the pharma 2 monitoring program or join a league, and publish a paper related to it. start a course to help with residency exams, and drop everything to spend my last semester of med school 100% focused on that. after that, who knows, just survive, i guess.

i don’t have time to work enough to make enough money to live alone, so i live with my mom, and that’s how it’s gonna be for a long time. but my mom is a hardcore hoarder, there currently isn’t a single flat surface in the house where i could lay an open notebook, so sadly i’ll probably never be able to take any aesthetic studying pics of my own.

EDIT: this is really hard. i don’t have time for extracurriculars cause i have to work to have money to pay for med school. i’m drowning in debt (over 200k in debt to my name alone, not even mentioning my mom who’s also got bad credit because of me). fuck

[sparrowmoss]

and as much as i would like to be happy about biden dropping out, it is very much a position of evil with a very long line of people waiting to take his spot. i’m not devastated either, because like i said, position of evil. joe biden is not a good person with the interests of those suffering the most at heart. he has had three and a half years to do what he kept promising to do, to do what people wanted and needed him to do. to remove student debt and fix homelessness and protect women and queers and people of color and he has actively sided with apartheid states committing genocide instead. roe v wade was overturned under him. we have already been headed in the direction of project 2025 for years anyway. this is kind of just, something that happened. removing one parasite when you’re drowning in them. being rid of a parasite that Could Have Been Worse, according to some people, because supporting genocide isn’t enough

[how-gross]

3:29am — Sunday, May 5th, 2024

Totally underestimated the power of senioritis and academic burnout. Talk about a double whammy.

I already got into college and the money seems alright (by “alright”, I mean I hopefully won’t be drowning in eternal debt), but I still have so much work that still needs to get done. I have a Semester Project for my Theater 1 class that is meant to act as a substitute for our general exam due on Tuesday, I have 3 AP exams for the next two weeks — AP Literature and Composition, AP Psychology and AP Biology II — and I have a College Trigonometry Dual Enrollment Exam from Tuesday-Thursday (we can choose the dates; for me I’m taking the first part on Tuesday and the second part on Wednesday because my AP Psychology exam is on Thursday and I can’t handle a DE Exam and an AP exam in the same day).

I’m mainly stressed about that Dual Enrollment exam. My teacher says 4-6 attempts on the practice exam should allow you to feel prepared for the exam, and that she’ll give you 5+ bonus points if you do 5 authentic attempts (like don’t just do an attempt and make a zero on it cuz you didn’t try and just wanted an attempt under your belt). The problem is College Trigonometry is SO FUCKING HARD — Literally, the unit of the HARDEST TESTS is in the exam, and no matter how many times my teacher says “the exam is easier than test 3” it doesn’t take away from the fact that Test 3 IS APART OF THE EXAM—

And my AP Literature Exam… I don’t want to admit it, but I honestly gave up on that exam and am planning to just yolo on it. But let’s be honest, my version of “yoloing” anything is just me studying less for that assessment than I would for any other assessment. By that, I mean I’m just gonna watch the AP Classroom Videos that she’s posted throughout the year, read through the notes on this app for AP Prep called Knowt, and try to remember the slim advice she gave for writing essays and the general format of the exam itself, and just hope for the best.

It’s hard when the fucking teacher gives you shit-all to help prepare you for the exam. She literally gave my class NO practice exam assignments on AP Classroom, NO practice essay assignments on AP Classroom— and when I tried to find her on my last day to ask for the AP literature exam prep book in my school library, SHE WAS NOWHERE TO BE SEEN. Don’t even get me started on the essays. I don’t feel confident nor prepared for my essays at all. And I know why— it’s because we did NOTHING but IN-CLASS ESSAY ASSIGNMENTS for MAJOR GRADES for THE ENTIRE YEAR. I got a B on every single one of those in-class essays— on only one of those essays, I got an A, and it was a pretty low A to say the least. And when my class asked her to give us more prep for essays — such as take-home essays, or assigning the in-class essays for a lower grade, or both — and she said no because she knew that she would take a long time to grade them. I can account for her on that, she does take a long-ass time to grade the in-class essays. Like about three-four weeks, maybe even longer cuz my perception of time is off.

But… that all falls apart because here we are, AP Literature students, writing or trying to write full-on essays in a 40-MINUTE TIME SPAN. And you can’t get grades in within 2 weeks or less? My mom was an English teacher and a pretty damn good one at that. I’m swallowing my pride for this, but she’s the whole reason I’m a good writer right now. My mom straight up said that if you know what you’re looking for in an essay, it shouldn’t take you that long to grade an essay.

And my past English honors and AP language teacher can vouch for that; this woman would give us in-class essays as well as take-home essays, and would give them back to us fully graded either the next day, or the day after that. No more, no less. I understand that all teachers and people are different, and they have own strengths and weaknesses— but when those weaknesses interfere with my success, that’s when I become frustrated. I literally don’t feel prepared for a NATIONAL EXAM that could guarantee me for college credit, that COSTS MONEY TO APPLY TO, all because my teacher can’t grade papers fast enough to provide us with more preparation. This is literally insane.

And yeah, that’s pretty much all I have to vent about; my AP Lit and my DE exam. AP Psychology doesn’t count because it’s mainly just my academic burnout talking— my AP Psych teacher is an angel blessed upon this Earth. This woman literally gave an entire Exam Cram worksheet to go by, along with multiple respires to fall back on, and they’re required, which helps me because it forces me to study, which I needed because probably would have procrastinated and had an anxiety attack otherwise (probably still gonna have an anxiety attack but that’s neither here nor there). I’m not focusing on my AP Biology II exam right now because if I do, my head may actually implode in on itself and we can’t have that. I’ll focus on that when the time comes.

Fortunately, my AP Bio teacher is still hosting classes and exam prep days for us, and she’s allowing seniors to come back regardless of administration has anything to say about it. I love her for that.

My poor boyfriend. I feel so bad. I’ve unintentionally ignored him for a good couple months now all because of my academic burnout and senioritis, and the fact that I’ve learned some not-so-good stuff about my home life that has impacted my mental health in a weird way. I have to promise myself that I’ll call him the minute summer hits. There’s no excuse after that (unless I pass out or sm).

Ughhhhh and graduation is a thing that exists. Kill me now. I might just relapse.

[my20somethingdiary]

Dear reader,

Tonight I’m feeling particularly lonely. To be honest, I have spent the entirety of my 24 years of life alone and I’m comfortable with that in a lot of ways. I enjoy time to myself, and have no issue with doing things on my own. Whether that be going to a concert or go shopping for the day. I genuinely do enjoy myself and don’t feel the need to hold myself back from doing things simply because I don’t have someone to do it with whether that be a friend or a partner. I don’t love where I live right now, especially because quite a bit of the dating pool is very conservative (yuck) so no part of going out to a bar or talking to people on dating apps appeals to me because no man in that pool is going to meet my standards. And to be quite honest, I hold a lot of animosity to men as a group because of the way, I’ve seen them treat so many people in my life and also testimonials I’ve seen from people on the Internet and their experiences with dating men. I face the double edged sword of not really being particularly interested in hook up culture and therefore it limits my options for male company, but at the same time, I have no interest in sacrificing my standards for a partner simply to have company. It’s a lot of complexities that I’m sure anyone in my position understands. All this to say that sometimes it gets to be kind of lonely, especially when I see other people in my life and people, my age who are with partners or getting married, and things like that, and not that I feel even a little bit ready to be married, but it’s just the principle of everyone has someone but me. I have to believe that the right person is out there for me somewhere, but it just gets very difficult sometimes to imagine that someone could choose me or want me. I don’t mean for this to get to super sad, especially on my first diary entry for this blog, but it’s just how I’m feeling tonight and I know that it’ll pass and that tomorrow’s a new day. For now I’m just tired and feeling a little bit sad. I’m definitely physically tired because I work a lot of really long hours because I have student debt and a car payment (and parents who are never smart with money to thank for it all) and as you all know, no one wants to pay anything remotely livable for wages so I have to work a lot to be able to pay my bills and even then, that’s all while living at home and in one way, being lucky that I don’t have to pay rent and groceries. but I can’t imagine how on earth I would even try and survive if I was living out fully on my own when I already feel like I’m drowning right now. Hopefully it’ll be worth it down the line. I think this also contributes a bit to my loneliness because I work like 40+ hours a week and also live at home with my parents and we live around 30 minutes outside of the major town in our area so all of my friends don’t live nearby, at least not without a drive. so really I just get up, work a 10 hour shift, go home, go to bed, repeat for like most of my days and that doesn’t really leave much time to hang out with even friends, let alone if I did want to go out to a bar or meet up for a date with someone I met online. I wish this wasn’t the case but like I said, before I kind of just don’t have the choice right now because my parents never set us up for financial success so I had absolutely no money for college, and they did not help me at all as far as chipping in for books, a parking pass, or anything like that. there’s definitely some resentment there, but that’s a topic for another diary entry.  Anyways, I’ve been feeling lonely tonight and I don’t really know why because normally this feeling is brought on by watching a movie or TV show that was very heavy on the love theme or sometimes it’s heavy on my social media feed, but it really hasn’t been either of those tonight, so it really hit me super randomly. Part of it also frankly could just be attributed to the fact that I have been thinking about a person lately who was my “one that got away” even though he was never officially mine. yet another topic for another entry

[hag-lad]

Okay I just gotta get this out. I fucking despise employment culture. I know that work is the only way that anything can ever get done, I know that labor is important, I know that it’s only driving me crazy to think of work as optional when every facet of reality is abundantly clear that work is mandatory. I know! And I still can’t fuckin stand it.

I quit my job in December and haven’t even interviewed for another one. I’m 2 months behind on my car payments, drowning in debt, and basically unable to function for how broke and miserable I am. I know that I should just step up and get a goddam job. But there is nothing I can see myself doing. I’ve either done it already and know intimately how much I hate it, or it’s utterly out of left field and I’m abysmally under-qualified. I’ve worked so much in my life, and I’m fucking tired of it. I literally am the bratty millennial stereotype who “doesn’t wanna work these days.” I literally don’t wanna work! I’m in like a protracted toddler-grade tantrum over this shit. I’ve seen too much of the workforce and I can’t stand it anymore.

I am dizzy from this whirlpool of hatred I’ve trapped myself in. I can’t be employed in a field I’m passionate about, because it makes me too crazy. Even “important” jobs that “help people” are all lies and bureaucracy and in-fighting and politics and conflict and questionable ethics and heartbreak and misery and sadness and stress, stress, SO MUCH STRESS. Then artistic or creative jobs are the opposite, where they feel so appallingly frivolous and superficial, I lose my mind spiraling about how much waste goes into the whole thing, the very first-world nature of it all. And then I can’t even take respite in a job that I’m not ultra passionate about, because it’s so time-consuming and monotonous, I feel like I’m wasting my life!

I’ve done so many different types of jobs, way more than most people my age, I feel like I have firsthand knowledge of exactly how ill-fitted I am to work anywhere. I’m a shitty employee, and I have nothing resembling the will to get better! I don’t give a fraction of a fuck about professionalism, I absolutely never show up on time, I use every millisecond of sick pay and frequently take unpaid days off just cuz I hate being at work so much, and no proximity to any of my “dream jobs” has ever even come remotely close to fixing this. I’m habitually tardy, flaky, and my attitude is so bad I’ve made enemies out of wildly different types of people. I can’t seem to get along with anyone, and I don’t fucking want to! This was even the case when I was making $36/hr doing a job that was basically tailor-made to my strengths and interests. If even that can’t get me on a path to enjoying work? I don’t think anything will!!!!!

And I hate, hate, HATE when people suggest jobs at me like I haven’t considered them. I just want to grab them and shake them. I HAVE ALREADY THOUGHT ABOUT IT, WHATEVER IT IS. I have already googled it, looked into how to get into it, considered what it would take, and decided against it. I’ve thought about being a social worker, nurse, plumber, electrician, teacher, therapist, doula, IT guy, car mechanic, bike mechanic, photographer, graphic artist, talent manager, veterinary technician, librarian, general contractor, cosmetologist, mortician, park ranger, HR guy, transcriber, grant writer, student, botanist, gardener, sanitation worker, solar panel tech, retail monkey, babysitter, foster parent, dog walker, AND LIKE TEN THOUSAND OTHER THINGS. Okay?! I’ve already thought about it! I’ve already looked into it! The problem is not lack of ideas. It’s attitude. It always has been attitude.

I’m fuckin 30 years old, man! My brain is harder to fight now than ever before. I feel so deeply, inexorably set in my ways, so fixed and rooted in this way of looking at the world and existing around other humans, it is like a maze with no exit. I can run around and drive myself insane looking for the way out, but I know deep down that I am going to die here. There’s no fuckin way out. There is no “fulfilling career,” there is no “dream job.” There aren’t even jobs where I’ll be able to tolerate the daily grind. There are only prisons with varying levels of brutality. Some are worse than others, but they’re all prisons. I know this is all very privileged and spoiled and whiny. Believe me, I know. And the fact is, my car will get repossessed if I don’t figure this shit out. But I will violently hate wherever I wind up next, that’s a guarantee. Because I hate everything! And I can’t just stop hating. I try all the time, and it just comes back worse every time.

Nobody ever tells you this. Nobody sympathizes with lazy, angry people. We’re the exact type of person that people hate the most. We are not lovable, we are not virtuous, we can’t make the world better. We were put on this earth to suffer, then die as a relief to everyone who had the burden of knowing us. Some people are just shitheads, and that is how I see myself, way more than any career path. Just a fuckin shithead waiting to die! Lmao

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

This may be oddly specific but what the heck, how about a scenario with a g/n reader where they’re a fashion designer, and they’re talking with the Adeuce duo in Mostro lounge about modelling their latest designs for a magicam photoshoot, but Adeuce are too busy and can’t help, so they’re trying to figure out who can substitute on short notice, all while a certain pair of twins can’t help but overhear their conversation (delete if this is too much)

I fastforwarded past the “reader talking to Adeuce about their designs” part so I could get to the more interesting bits~

I wanted to actually write the part where the twins modelled, but I hit my 1k word limit just doing the build up to it. If you’re interested in seeing the twins model, please consider submitting a follow-up request when I’m taking new ones!

Model Jade though--

[Image used is credited to KawaiiR.]

Imagine this...

Not enough. The hit of sugar from the fruit juice you downed wasn’t enough to settle your stress. As soon as your glass was drained of liquid, you slammed it down upon the counter, head snapping to the bartender.

“Another round,” you grunted, motioning for him to make it quick as you slid your empty container over.

Jade received your cup with a sigh and passed it off to his twin, who had taken advantage of slow business to invade the counter space. Floyd was collecting glasses and stacking them into a neat pyramid. His heterochromatic eyes peered out at odd bends through the curved cups, shining with glee as he used his newly acquired cup to crown off the formation.

Jade’s gaze returned to you, paired with a fake sympathetic smile. “I’m afraid I will have to ‘cut you off’. Drowning your sorrows with drink is not a healthy means of coping.”

If they keep this pace up, we won’t have anything left for the lunch rush. And how bothersome it would be if he had to take precious time out of his break to restock on their beverages.

“Who cares, as long as I pay for it,” you muttered, slamming a hand on the counter. “Another round, Jade.”

“You are already incurring a hefty tab.” He shook his head--a polite refusal.

“Good,” you grumbled sarcastically. “That means Octavinelle gets another indentured servant when I can’t cough up the cash.”

Jade chuckled, bringing a hand to his chest and not making any effort to deny your grim prediction. “Rather than drag yourself further into the depths of debt... May I ask what it is that troubles you, dear customer? Perhaps we may be able to hear you out and assist with your woes.”

“I’m not sure if you can,” you retorted, fingers rubbing at your temples. “I’ve just lost my two models, and I don’t know where I’m going to find replacements on such short notice.”

“You mean Kani-chan and Saba-chan?” Floyd asked, propping his face up with curled fingers. His cheeks squished against his touch, granting him a more innocent look than usual. “They were with you earlier and left all in a hurry.”

“Yeah. Deuce had a Track and Field Club meet he forgot about, and Ace got detention with Crewel for failing the last quiz,” you groaned, “which leaves me without models for my new collection.”

“Collection?” Floyd’s face suddenly lit up with interest. “Like a fashion collection?”

“Yup, that’s right.” You fished your phone out of your pocket and unlocked it, pulling up your Magicam account. The students of NRC may have boasted magical pens, but you wove your own magic with needle and cloth. “I share the outfits I design and make.”

You tilted your mobile device to show your page. Each image cropped nicely, expertly shot and edited to perfection--very aesthetic. Floyd “ooh”ed and “aah”ed at the designs parading across the screen, but Jade’s eyes immediately honed in on your follower count.

It wasn’t celebrity status like Vil’s cool 5 million count. It wasn’t even decent-sized influencer status like Cater’six digits. But it was at least a few thousand, and numbers like that had reasonable sway.

“I could take pictures of mannequins with my clothes, but it just doesn’t feel the same as when real, breathing people are wearing them,” you explained. “It’s hard to find the right types for this sort of thing...”

The twins hovered over your phone, nearly cheek to cheek and shoulder to shoulder, as they absorbed your Magicam gallery. Spitting images, reflections with slight differences--the shape and colors of their eyes, the black tufts of hair that swung like pendulums, framing their handsome faces. Features delicate, yet sharp.

Your voice trailed off as realizations lowly set in. The longer you stared at the twins, the more pieces seemed to fall in place of the puzzle. “Tall, broad shouldered, and the facial symmetry...” You brought a hand to your chin, brows creasing in concentration.

That’s it.

“You’re exactly what I’m looking for!!” you blurted out, abruptly standing and seizing each of their hands. “Please, be my models!”

“Mmm? Sounds fun!” Floyd threw his head back and laughed, eager to be amused by something new. He turned to his brother. “Ne, ne, Jade~ Can we?”

“Hmm.” Jade cast a cursory glance around the Mostro Lounge. Not a soul in sight. Then he returned to your Magicam page, and its tempting follower count. “Well, the Mostro Lounge has been looking to increase its social media presence. What better way to achieve that than by cross promoting with a fellow content creator? And what’s more...”

He snickered into his hand. “I could not possibly allow Floyd, nor myself, to continue to wallow in boredom.”

“Then...!!” You clutched their hands tighter, hope filling your heart.

“We will lend you our aid for this endeavor.”

“Yes...!! Thank you, thank you so much!!” You clapped in excitement, your legs caught up in a little jig. “Oh, I’ll need to take your measurements, then tailor Ace and Deuce’s original outfits to your sizes. We also need to find a suitable spot for the photo shoot--a place with natural lighting would be best--and, and, and...”

“There will be plenty of time to sort those details out,” Jade calmly reassured you. “Ah, but first... there remains the matter of your drink tab.”

“... Oh.”

“Furthermore, since you are contracting us... You will need to draw up a formal agreement with Azul, and agree to his terms and conditions by signing off on the dotted line,” Jade continued, his tone even and pleasant.

You swallowed hard. A deal with Octavinelle? It may as well have been signing your soul away.

“You got it, riiight?” Floyd inquired in a lazy drawl. “Cuz you’re a fashion designer and all. You must’ve worked with contracts before.”

“You understand, yes?” Jade pressed, chiming in with his twin.

“E-Er, now wait a sec...”

“It’s just business,” the twins recited in unison--their smiles dangerously devilish.

[justthehiddleswrites]

Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 2 | Be Careful with Clive, I Have Grown Attached to Him

A/N:  Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed).  It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will.  Keep your hate to yourself.  

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt.  Tom has an idea to solve all their problems.  Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts.  Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else.  In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: Tom and Molly are now married.  Surprise! These two talk about the logistics of Tom’s half-baked plan.  And Molly moves to London to face the firing squad, aka the paparazzi.  

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of:  child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED!  THANK YOU FOR READING!

–

After they signed the license along with the apostille, there had been dancing. That much Molly remembered. And drinking. Specifically drinking champagne. Tom danced with abandon, pulling Molly into the whirlwind of activity he created around him.

But now it was morning, and Molly woke up in a bed that wasn’t her own. She groaned as her head pounded, having forgotten that champagne and her have a love-hate relationship. Molly saw the faint outline of Tom asleep on the couch, his long body stretched out, still wearing his suit from last night. After glancing at the alarm clock, Molly fell back asleep.

Several hours, Molly woke up again and headed to the bathroom, not noticing the now opened curtains.

“Hey good lookin, Whatcha got cookin,” Tom’s voice twanged as he stepped out of the shower. His head pounded a bit, but not the worst hangover he had.

“AHHH!!!” Molly screamed as she stepped into the bathroom.

They both froze, which was more embarrassing for Tom, as at least Molly was still wearing her dress from last night.

“You’re naked.” Molly blinked, her head darting around the room until she focused on an interesting corner of the room.

Tom chuckled, grabbing a towel and wrapping it loosely around his waist. “I don’t normally shower in my clothes. You can look back now.”

She slowly turned back around. “Sorry.” She shuffled her feet. “I should have knocked.”

“It’s quite alright.” He moved towards the door. “Shower is yours and we should talk things over.”

Molly nodded. “We should.”

While Molly showered, Tom dressed in the other room. After finding a clean t-shirt for Molly to wear over her dress until she could change, he called the airlines and changed his single ticket for that morning to a later flight for two, fishing Molly’s ID out of her wallet.

“Thanks for the shirt.” she stepped out.

“It looks good on you.” Tom gestured to the sofa. “Sit. Would you like some breakfast?” Her stomach growled. They both laughed. “That would be a yes.” Tom shoved the room service menu. “Order what you like.”

She selected an egg white frittata while Tom got the pancakes. Tom put in the order and returned his attention to Molly.

“So let’s talk about how this will work.” Tom shifted in his seat.

“An excellent idea. You mentioned living together in London. When do we leave?”

“This afternoon.”

Molly coughed. “That quick?”

“I’m afraid so.” Tom’s hands fidgeted in his lap. She noticed he was still wearing the spider ring. “I have work obligations back home and in order for it to be believable you would need to live with me.”

“Naturally.” Molly slapped her thighs. “So after breakfast, I can head back to my apartment, pack up what little I have, say goodbye to my roommate, and change into appropriate clothing. And you need to get us some proper rings.” She waved her hot pink ring in the air. “Unless of course you intend for your bride to wear a ring from the top of a cupcake.”

“Only if I get to keep my ring. I’ve grown quite attached to Clive.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You named the spider?”

“Yes.” There was a knock on the door. “That will be the food. Allow me.” He disappeared and returned shortly with a rolling table, ladened with food. Tom poured a cup of coffee and offered one to Molly.

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“I can have them bring up a teapot.”

“I’m pretty sure there are some complimentary ones in the room. Now,” She cut into her food and took a bite. “how will everything else work? Living with you, your life, the paparazzi? That is the whole point of this charade.”

“You do get down to business. So yes, I would expect you to live in my home. In a separate bedroom, I can set up another room as an office for you. We would need to attend events together and generally appear as a loving couple on the outside.”

“And my debts? That is part of the deal, right?”

“Right,” Tom gazed over at her while eating his pancakes. “I would assume the payments while we are together, and after the divorce is final, I would pay off any balance. I would also take care of your daily expenses while we are married. You are welcome to work if you want, but I will give you spending money.”

“So I would be a trophy wife?” Her brown eyes glinted.

Tom waved his hands in front of him. “Not that is not what I meant… I…”

“I am kidding, Tom. If you prefer, I can not work. I don’t mind. Give me some time to figure things out.” A thought came to her. “What about…” Molly searched for the words. “… other needs? Or if you wish to engage in a romantic relationship?” Her cheeks blushed as the words fell out of her mouth.

Tom blushed as well. “I have great self-control and I think if either of us get to that point, we can discuss it. I don’t want you to feel trapped.”

“And I don’t want you to be trapped either. I guess that is as good of an answer I could expect. Anything you want to ask me?”

Tom stared at Molly. The air hung heavy. “Do you regret saying yes?”

“No. Do you regret asking?”

“No.”

Molly downed the rest of her juice. “Well then, it is all settled. I am going to take off to pack. And you have some shopping to do. My ring size is a 7.”

Tom finished up the last bite of pancakes. “Right. We need to leave here by 3 to make it to the airport.”

“I shouldn’t be more than a few hours. Do you have a key to the room I could borrow?”

Tom fished one out of his discarded jacket’s pocket. “Here I will have the front desk make me another one.”

She tapped the key against her nails. “Thanks, Tom. For the help and for being a decent guy.”

“I should be thanking you.”

“You already have.” She grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

-

Tom headed downstairs, asked the front desk for a new key to the room, and also inquired where the nearest jewelry store might be. The front clerk handed him a key and directed him to a small collection of luxury stores in the hotel. He found Tiffanys and purchased a classic platinum solitaire engagement ring and plain platinum band for Molly and a yellow gold band for himself.

Molly wasn’t back when he returned, so he set about packing up for the flight. His phone buzzed. Luke.

It appears you had a good time in Vegas. The papers say you are drowning your sorrows. Looks like the story is here to stay. Call me when you wake up from your nap at home.

Tom typed back.

I did have a good time. I have a feeling the papers will soon find another story soon. Still in Vegas, taking a later flight. Talk to you soon.

His phone rang. He clicked it off, seeing it was Luke. Rather to get all the yelling done in person. The door opened and Molly came in, dragging a suitcase behind.

“Sorry! My roommate had questions.”

“So does my publicist.”

Tom took in Molly for the first time, really. Outside of the light of a casino floor. And not in a wedding dress purchased for fifty dollars on the way to the chapel. She wore faded jeans, a pair of beat up black Converse and a boxy white tee tucked in. A large black cardigan tucked under her arm. Dark hair in a bun. Quite lovely, if Tom told the truth.

“Are you in some sort of trouble?” Her brows knitted together.

“Not yet.” Tom tucked his phone into his jean pocket. “Here.” He pulled out the little blue bag.

Molly gasped. “I thought you would go buy some costume jewelry. This is too much.”

“Nonsense. This marriage may be fake, but the jewelry will be real.” Tom opened up the boxes. “May I do the honors?”

Molly held out her hand, and Tom slipped off the plastic ring before replacing it with the wedding set. “Much better. And yours?”

Tom slapped the box into her hand. “Be careful with Clive.” Molly pursed her lips as she pulled off the spider ring and replaced it with the gold band, putting the plastic ring in the Tiffanys box. “Here you go. Clive’s new home.”

Tom tucked the box into his luggage. “Ready to go?”

Molly rocked back on her heels. “Yep.”

Tom held out his arm. “Let’s go home, Mrs. Hiddleston.”

-

The flight back was uneventful, Molly and Tom dozed off, leaning against each other for support. Molly woke up first. She stared down at her rings. This was not how she expected this weekend going. Molly thought she would scrap together enough tips to make an extra payment on her credit card. Not flying to London with a Tiffany diamond ring on her finger and a famous actor as her husband.

“Life does throw you curveballs from time to time.”

“What was that, darling?” Tom muttered, stretching in his seat.

“Just commenting on the craziness of all of this to myself.” She held out her hand again. Tom laced his fingers with hers.

“I have done the same thing myself. Now when we land, there will probably be paparazzi around. Are you up for getting this whole thing off and running?”

Molly perked up. “What do I need to do?”

-

Tom tightly gripped Molly’s hand throughout the concourse and baggage claim. They eyed the doors.

“Ready?” she asked, squeezing his hand.

“I promise to be gentle.” Tom squeezed back, smiling.

As they stepped through the doors, Tom flashed a killer smile and Molly did as well, giggling as his arm wrapped around her waist. He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. Molly melted against him, making sure her rings were visible as she cupped his cheek. She was right, Tom was an excellent kisser. After making sure any photographers had plenty of time to snap a pic, they parted.

“Think they got my good side?” Molly giggled.

“Do you have a bad side?” Tom asked.

“Just wait and see. Now take me home, darling!” She threw her arm over her eyes dramatically.

“Drama queen.” Tom pinched her side.

-

Tom’s home was cozy and clean. Definitely a bachelor’s home, as evidenced by the empty fridge except for a few bottles of beer and some questionable brown sauce.

“I can go shopping later.” Tom dragged a toe along the kitchen floor.

“I can go shopping later.” She reached up and smacked his face playfully. “What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t feed my husband?”

“Fair point. I will call the bank tomorrow and get a card in your name. Just run any big purchases past me first. And we will need to get your name changed, passport, etc. I can have someone help you.” Tom prattled on.

“Why don’t you show me the rest of the place first?”

Tom held out his arm. “This way.”

Tom’s book collection was impressive along with his collection of movies.

“I clear some space if you need it.”

“I only packed clothes. My roommate is selling the rest, including my car and wiring me the money.”

“Oh.” Tom’s face fell. “Let me show you the bedrooms.”

He showed you a small guest room. “This could be an office for you and next door is a bigger bedroom for you.” Tom hustled along the hallway to open the next door. “Here.”

It was a bigger room with a queen bed and a wardrobe. Spare and clearly used for company.

“It will do just fine. And the bathroom is across the hall which is nice. Where’s your room?”

Tom made his way to the end of the hall and opened the door to his room, decorated in tones of grey and navy. A large king sized bed taking up most of the room along with a dresser. A bathroom en suite and a small closet completed the space.

“Very nice. Do you mind if I steal the color palette to decorate my room?”

“Please do. I never got around to decorate it. My sisters and mother are the only ones who stay in there.”

Molly paled a bit. She hadn’t thought about Tom’s family. “I supposed I will meet them soon.”

“I supposed so. It would be odd for my wife not to meet them. I hadn’t thought about it.”

Molly rocked back and forth. “Now why don’t I go shopping and you unpack and relax?”

“I would feel better if I came with you. You are in a different country, a strange city. And what if you have problems with the card?”

“Then let’s go and you can point out some of your favorite foods.”

“It’s a deal.”

-

“When I said pick out your favorite foods, I didn’t expect it to be only sweets. Did I marry a seven-year-old?”

“I’m 35, thank you. and I enjoy those sweets.”

“You eat like a college frat boy.”

“Guilty.”

“That is definitely changing now that I am around. You can’t continue to eat like that. There are things called vegetables.”

Tom snapped his fingers. “I’ve heard of those.”

“Get out of here!” Molly swatted at him. “I am certain you have things to attend to, and I need to familiarize myself with the kitchen.”

“Are you kicking me out of my kitchen?”

“Our kitchen. And yes.” Molly smirked.

“I yield! I yield. I’ll be in my study if you need me.” Tom walked out of the kitchen and towards his study.

He spied his phone sitting on the desk, still off from the flight. By now, any pictures should have been posted somewhere. Tom collapsed into his desk chair and clicked the phone on. While he waited for it to start up, he could overhear Molly puttering about in the kitchen, muttering to herself as she put away the groceries.

Buzz. Ten messages and eleven missed calls. He didn’t bother to listen to them and instead dialed Luke.

“Luke, I’m back in town. Thought I wou—” Tom started in as soon as Luke picked up.

“I WASN’T FUCKING SERIOUS WHEN I SAID TO GET MARRIED??! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND?!”

Tom pulled the phone away from his ear. “No, I haven’t. But I am married. To a wonderful girl. Her name is Molly. Molly Bishop. You should meet her, Luke.”

“YOU ARE FUCKING RIGHT I’LL MEET HER. AS SOON AS POSSIBLE! SHE CAN HELP IDENTIFY YOUR BODY, THOMAS!” Luke continued to scream on the phone.

“Can you dial back the volume, Luke? I would like to preserve my hearing. Is there something wrong with marrying the woman I love?”

Luke cleared his throat. Tom understood Luke was doing his best to collect himself. “Apologies. There is nothing wrong with marrying the woman you love, Tom. Nothing at all. Except I don’t think you love this woman, since until a few weeks ago you were in love with—”

“Don’t say her name, it will ruin my marital bliss. I’m a hopeless romantic, Luke.”

“Hopeless, yes. Romantic, the jury is still out. And your fans don’t count, they are blinded by you. But I see the truth.”

“Which is?”

“You are not as smart as you think you are.”

“Did any of the articles mention her?” Tom inquired, spinning his wedding band on his finger.

“No.”

“Then I am exactly as smart as I think I am.”

There was a clatter from the kitchen.

“Tom!” Molly called out. “I need your help.”

“Got to go, Luke. My wife needs my help.” Tom emphasized the word “wife.”

“This isn’t over, Tom.”

“It never is. Bye.”

More clattering and another cry. “Tom!”

Tom rushed into the kitchen to find Molly perched on top of the kitchen counter, reaching high into a cabinet.

“Why is everything so high in here?”

Tom chuckled and reached around her, pressing his torso against her back. Molly jumped for a moment at the touch.

“I’m not used to sharing my space. I’m six two, I put things where I can reach them. What are you grabbing?”

“The roasting pan.”

Tom pulled it down and placed it on the counter. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it.

“Thank you. Well, I am five six, so unless you want me climbing counters for the next year, we need to rearrange some things.”

“But you’re so cute climbing around like a little monkey.”

Molly frowned. “Is that supposed to be a compliment? If so, then try again.”

Tom opened his mouth and closed it. “I’ll pull things down after dinner.”

“Thank you.” She rubbed his arm. “Now to try my hand at a roast dinner. Did you get stuff done?”

His phone buzzed again.

“I called my publicist. The pictures posted.” Tom pulled out his phone to shut it off.

“Oh good. So I take it, I had the desired effect.” Molly crunched on a carrot and offered one to Tom, who wrinkled his nose.

The two of you. My office 8 a.m. tomorrow. No excuses. I want to meet the blushing bride.

Tom frowned at the screen.

“It would appear so. I suggest you go to bed early because you are meeting Luke, my publicist tomorrow.”

Molly’s mouth fell open. “Should I be worried?”

Tom smiled at her. “No, I should be.”

[thatshithurted8]

Hurricane Season

Summary: Despite being awoken during the early hours of the morning JJ makes sure to comfort reader when she needs him most.

Prompt 32: “You come into my room at 4am just to cuddle?” Requested by @somekindofsapphic  

Warnings: Mention of hurricanes, storms and death.

Word Count: 1.9k

Every time a hurricane was predicted to make land fall in the Outer Banks you found yourself taking refuge at the Chateau with John B, JJ and your dog, Coast. Kiara and Pope would always help you guys prepare with getting food and boarding up the house, but they would always go back to their houses where they would embrace the storm with their parents. 

JJ on the other hand despised going home so much that he wouldn’t want to be there even if it meant he was protected from a hurricane. Unlike Pope and Kiara’s parents though, JJ’s dad couldn’t give a flying fuck about JJ’s whereabouts and you all felt for him because of that. But that’s where your mom differed from the rest of your friends parents. 

Your mom cared and loved you deeply, but she was a nurse at the local hospital so she had to be there when first responders got there after the storm. With that being said she knew how scared you were of storms and hurricanes in specific. 

So you found yourself engulfed in darkness on the pull out couch in John B’s living room, with Coast laying at your feet. You could hear the storm brewing outside, the wind actually just started to pick up within the past hour or so, waking you up from your already reckless slumber. 

You listen as the wind gets louder and louder and the sound of the heavy rain hitting against the outside of the chateau becomes deafening.

You were already focused on controlling your breathing, but you could feel the panic wash over you. Like you, Coast was also awake and she sensed your discomfort so she gets up, stretches and lays down beside you. 

Appreciatively you pet your brown furred dog and pull her closer to your side for comfort. Luckily enough for you Coast wasn’t scared of storms, in fact she wasn’t phased by them at all she just hated the fact that she couldn’t go outside to pee. If she was afraid of them you don’t know what you would do since you would have to comfort not only yourself, but her as well. 

After a few minutes of distracting yourself with petting Coast the power goes out, leaving you in complete darkness. You let out a whimper as you feel around for your phone on the side table. Once you find it you check the time and see that it was 4:03am. You wondered if JJ or John B were awake as well. Surely they’ve woken up to the loud storm outside. 

You set your phone back down, not wanting to drain the battery considering you didn’t know when the next time you would have power. Coast nudges your hand with her snout, signalling that she wanted you to continue petting her. While you scratch Coast’s head a battle went on in yours. 

You were debating on going to see if JJ was awake or not. Your anxiety was starting to get the best of you and you could feel the panic attack slowly taking over your body. 

Taking deep breaths you try to convince yourself that you were okay and it’s not fair to JJ to intrude on his slumber just because you were scared. However, as much as you wanted your pep talk and convincing to work, it didn’t. Suddenly, something that sounded like a tree falling, crashes onto the ground outside, causing both you and Coast to jump in your spot. 

“Fuck this.” You mutter to yourself, quickly getting up with Coast following behind you. 

JJ stirs around in what used to be Big John’s bed when something outside falls down. Everyone knew that JJ Maybank was a heavy sleeper and could sleep through anything. Although as you open the door to the bedroom causing the wood to squeal against the hinges the blonde stirs around again and ultimately wakes up. It was like his body sensed that you were in his presence and he didn’t want to embarrass himself around you by drooling or something. After all, he has had a giant ass crush on you for as long as he could remember. 

“JJ.” You call out whispering while walking slowly over to the bed with your hands out to find it. 

“Mhmm?” JJ asks rubbing his eyes, trying to locate you in the dark room. 

“I’m really scared can I sleep with you?” You ask however JJ only hears the part where you ask to sleep with him. 

“What time is it?” He asks, ignoring your question. 

“Four.” 

He leans up on one arm and lifts his eyebrow. “You come into my room at 4am just to cuddle?” He asks with a sly smile on his face. 

You stand there biting the inside of your cheek as rain continues to pour down against the chateau. “Well since I’m scared wouldn’t that be part of the deal?” 

“Wait what?” JJ asks sitting up, realizing he must’ve heard you wrong when you first came in. 

“The storm is making me scared and anxious so can I sleep with you?” JJ didn’t even realize that Hurricane Agatha has started her wrath against the Outer Banks until you mentioned it.

For most guys a girl coming into their room at four in the morning because they were scared would make them groan and fall back to sleep. But for JJ he could feel his cheeks flushing at the idea of you coming to him for comfort. Even though he didn’t want you to be scared or upset he couldn’t stop his heart beat from increasing at your simple question. It also made him feel good that someone was coming to him for safety and security. He has always acted like your personal security blanket, always protecting you from things, but it made the butterflies in JJ’s stomach flutter every time you came to him. 

Just as JJ was about to utter out a sleepy ‘yes, of course’ a loud rumble of thunder basically shakes the chateau causing you to jump into the bed with the blue eyed boy. He chuckles at your response to the loud noise and moves over a bit to give you more room before wrapping an arm around you. 

Once JJ looked at your face though he realized it was no laughing matter. From what he could see in the darkly lit room you were scared. 

“Hey it’s okay.” He says softly while bringing you close to his chest. In return you wrap your arms around his slender waist, finally allowing yourself to let your emotions out. 

Coast jumps onto the bed to see if you were okay as you start to whimper and cry into JJ’s chest. “Shhh it’s going to be okay. It’s just some bad weather and everything will fine soon.” JJ coos, resting his large hand on the back of your head and rubbing his thumb softly against your hair. 

JJ knew how scared you were of storms and hurricanes. At times he’s almost certain you have a phobia of them. It made sense for them to make you scared though, after all they were linked to the first traumatic event you’ve ever experienced. 

In 2011 hurricane Irene made land fall in OBX and the destruction was devastating. However, the destruction you saw outside wasn’t as close to the destruction hurricane Irene caused to your life. You remember vividly watching your dad leave your small house in the cut, blowing kisses to you and your mom standing on the porch before he left for work. He was a first responder and that was the last time you ever saw him alive. One storm derailed your entire life even at a young age. 

Your parents were already struggling financially to begin with, since the only source of income your family received was from your dad. Your mom was in school to become a surgeon and you guys were drowning in student debt because of it. However, it was going to be all worth it when your mom finally got her dream job, but that never happened. Once your dad died your mom dropped out of school and settled to be a nurse instead, which was still a good job however, it was still a horrible time in your life. 

As your panic attack takes full strength hiccups and coughs fall out of your mouth. It felt like the dark room was shrinking as your chest contracted and windpipe tightened. “I can’t breathe.” You gasp out while you push yourself away from the boy that loved you more than life itself. Your hand reached up towards your throat and you start to scratch at the delicate skin as if to make a hole so you could finally breathe.

JJ has been your closest friend since you could remember and he knows you like the back of his hand. With that being said he’s been there with you for countless of panic attacks. 

The blonde quickly sits up, disturbing Coast who just laid down at the end of the bed. He grabs your hand with his and brings it down to your side as he hovered over top of you. Your chest continued to heave up and down with tears streaming down your face. 

“Y/N look at me.” JJ says concerned, starring down into your red eyes. You listen to what your best friend had to say and made eye contact with him, but your panic attack continued. 

“Take a deep breath. Follow me.” He says taking a deep breath through his nose then letting it out of his mouth. You repeat what JJ does to the best of your ability, causing JJ to nod his head in encouragement. Not long after, your panic attack finally subsided and you were reeling from trauma you just faced physically and mentally. 

JJ moves the hair that was sticking to your face and drying tears before placing the blanket over top of you and lying down himself. “Thank you J.” You softly mumble out. 

“I’m always here for you.” The blonde simply says then places a kiss on the back of your head. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer when he hears the wind outside to continue to whip and whirl, but you were too scared and mentally drained to react to the sounds you hated. 

After a few moments of neither of you saying anything JJ decides to speak up, not knowing if you were awake or not. “Y/N?” 

“Yea J?” 

“I know storms and hurricanes bring back bad memories for you, but have you ever thought about it in a different perspective?” 

“What do you mean?” You ask pulling yourself closer to JJ’s chest when you hear a loud crack come from outside. Another tree just became another victim of hurricane Agatha. 

“Like what if when ever there’s storms and they get bad just try to think that it’s your dad saying hi to you or blowing kisses to you from where ever he is.” 

JJ wasn’t the type of person to talk about deep and personal stuff, but when it came to you he was an open book and vice versa for you. Although, since JJ was so used to being closed off in that sense he didn’t give the best advice, but what he just said was perfect. 

You’ve never thought about storms in that light, you would only associate them with negative experiences and emotions, but JJ’s simple sentence gave a whole new meaning and positive light to them. Of course his statement wasn’t going to get rid of your fear of storms, but it was a start. 

And in that moment you were so grateful for the blonde and blue eyed boy, more than he would ever know. 

-

Question of the day: Whats your biggest fear?

[asterroidd]

levi’s delivery service

↬  College AU

↬  Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader

↬  Word count: 1.3k

↬  Synopsis: As one sleep deprived college student amidst finals week, you never anticipated that your crush would be outside of your apartment at 2 am with cheese pizza.

   Awake but at what cost?

   Your tired eyes scanned your notes once again, hands gripping your hair in frustration as you found yourself having difficulty in understanding the lesson. It had been a couple of minutes already ever since you are stuck on that one page of your textbook, thoughts scrambled and information hardly processed. Oh, how much you wanted to just throw the damn book across the room and jump onto the sweet embrace of your bed. Alas, you can’t since you need to have a passing grade for the course.

   It was that time of the semester that every college student that exists fears.

   Finals week.

   It was the last push of caffeinated-driven system to freedom. The last battle that would decide if one would retake the course once again, or beg the professor for extra credits. And here you are between the fine line of death and life. It’s not that your grades are bad (it was the opposite rather), you have above average ones if you do say so yourself.

   However, there is a slope of adversity that you had experienced that may ultimately cost you getting a passing grade. You just had to fail the surprise test that your asshole of a professor had suddenly given amidst a fit (one of your coursemates was too loud). What’s worse is that he made it to be a huge percentage of the final grade. Now, you have to rely on the finals exam—which is about forty percent worth—to at least get a passing grade.

   So for the umpteenth time of the week, you are pulling an all-nighter just to review for the exams. You can’t afford to fail a course this semester or you’ll be drowning in student debt in no time. It didn’t even helped that your chosen degree is quite challenging. Bah, who are you even kidding? 

    It was the definition of hell.

   “I fucking hate my life,” you groaned, closing the textbook all together and slumping against the chair. That one concept. That one lesson that despite how many times you have read (and searched online for other interpretations), you still can’t seem to understand or grasp it.

   Your body was giving up, literally, with constant throbbing headaches, back pain that for sure hurts far worse that an old person’s, eyes bloodshot red after staring at the laptop screen for far too long with no rest. Not to mention the pit of anxiety settling on the bottom of your stomach, threatening bile to come up your throat.

   Ah yes, the average night of a college student.

   You still have exactly four days before the examination, maybe you could rest for a couple of hours. That said, when was the last time you ate?

   As if on cue, your stomach grumbled. You blinked, recalling the events of your day in attempts to remember the last time you had a meal. You started the day off by opening the textbooks and notes, suppose you had a cup of ramen at that time and a toast. Then, you headed out for a quick trip to the library to pick up a few books that would help you. After that, you practically had your nose deep in the pages of your textbook in the comforts of your apartment. Oh, that explains why you were famished.

   “Fuck it. I’m hungry,” you grabbed your phone, scrolling down your contacts list to call the local pizza place. You sure damn well deserve a whole twelve inch cheese pizza all to yourself after all of that hard work, and maybe a breadstick or two on the side as well as a bottle of soda. It may in be the wee hours of the morning, but a hungry stomach should not be ignored.

   “Yes, that’s all. Thank you,” you then hung up, not even bothering to hear the other side of the line. Too sleep-deprived that you probably can’t muster up all of your energy to be cheerful. Your grasp with reality practically left you already. You swore, after the week is over, you would cage yourself in your apartment to watch the hell out of Netflix.

   A little bit more. Just a few days more before freedom.

   Now that your mind had officially drifted off the academic texts and onto the savory smell of food that would arrive at your doorstep at any moment, you doubt that you could focus again anytime soon. So with a final huff, you shut your laptop close as well as notebooks, never bothering to reorganize them into neat stacks since you knew you would be scrambling through them later on.

   Your body screamed in joy once it hit the soft cushions of your bed, back sore after hours of being in a horrible sitting position. You pursed your lips, it would take an estimation of thirty minutes before your order would arrive, so maybe a quick nap wouldn’t hurt. Without a second thought, you let your eyes close shut, letting it rest after hours upon hours of strain after looking at your laptop screen. Soon enough, you welcomed the sweet embrace of sleep.

   Though, it only felt like you were asleep for a few seconds.

   Your eyes shot open, startled by the banging on the door of your apartment. Reluctantly, you pushed yourself off of the bed and trudged towards the door, fumbling through your wallet to get the exact amount of money as well as a few for a tip.

   The knocking on the wooden door did not cease. In fact, it got even worse. The delivery personnel practically hammering their fists against it.

   “I’m here. Geez, can’t you wait a litt-” you spat, ready to give them a piece of your mind but halted as you soon realized who it was. There stood before you in his workplace uniform, Levi Ackerman, your long-time friend and perhaps crush. Both of you knew each other since high school, being practically neighbors after his family moved in to your neighborhood. After that, you and he would be walking to and from school side by side, quite convenient at that matter.

   “Levi? What are you doing here?” you exclaimed.

   “I fucking hate you,” he grumbled. “I waited outside in the freezing cold for twenty minutes already.” He then shoved the pizza box to you quite harshly. You stared at him with mouth hanging open, too shocked to argue with him for his rude response. What the hell is he doing?

   Levi sighed after seeing your reaction, “Don’t ask. Just a part time job. I needed cash.”

   “Shouldn’t you be studying?” you rose a brow at him.

   “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

   “Touché.”

    His steel gray eyes watched you as you placed the pizza box on the table close by. Levi took note of the dark bags forming under your eyes, the disheveled look that you have, and the stench of cheap cup ramen noodles that radiated from you that made his nose scrunch. He knew that a plethora of students have a hard time during finals week, but he never anticipated you would also be affected by it. You had above-average grades during high school years, after all. Levi, in a million years, would never expect that you would be ordering pizza at two am in the morning.

   Looks like college can change a student in some ways or another.

   “Here you go, buster.” you uttered, tired eyes following Levi’s hands as he took the money from you.

   “You look like shit,” he commented, stuffing the cash deep inside his pockets.

   “Thanks. Haven’t sleep for three days straight,” you fought back a yawn. “Wanna head on inside for some pizza?”

   Levi shook his head, “No thanks. Still on shift for the next hour or so.”

   Then to your surprise, Levi rested his palm on top of your head, patting it lightly then ruffling your hair.

   “Good luck on the exams. I’ll treat you to anything you want after,” he spoke, the tips of his lips curving lightly. Then he disappear into the night, leaving you in a shocked state after what he did. You let a smile appear on your face, cheeks hot after his own subtle way of asking you out.

   Levi’s delivery service isn’t bad after all.

[luthienne]

piano was my whole life from the ages 4-16. it was my entire identity. i woke up at 5 every morning to practice before school, and then several hours after too. i was preparing pieces to apply to julliard already with the help of my teacher, who was a former alumni, but then something traumatic happened to me and i couldn't play anymore without crying. it was too painful to listen to classical music for years, and then only orchestral without piano. i dropped out of high school, i never went to college. finally this last year at 24 ive been able to listen to piano again, but im very poor, unemployed, and could never afford a piano, not even a digital one. i miss it so much. i lost my sense of self when i stopped playing. no one ive met would be able to understand this pain of not playing, and i never tell people about it, but maybe you would understand. whenever i meet a pianist i feel so distraught like, i can't describe. it's so painful.

i understand this feeling so, so deeply. so painfully well. i am so sorry. your story could almost be my story. high-achieving. spent my entire young adult life pouring myself into classical singing. graduated top of my class. was accepted to multiple top conservatories/universities for grad school (mannes school of music, jacob institute of music, san francisco conservatory, boston university school of music). i made it through my graduate program, but then after i graduated the trauma i’d previously experienced caught up with me, and then more piled on. first i couldn’t sing without crying, then i couldn’t sing at all. i went from practicing five hours a day to nothing. from working with conductors from the paris opera, directors from the met, to not being able to sing a simple aria. first bc my throat would close up, then bc i lost the desire completely. i’d never thought that singing could be something that i could lose, that i could want so badly to want again. i had always been my singing and my singing had been me. i had no identity outside of music. i avoided social media bc ofc all my friends from school posted constant #thrilledtoannounce updates. i lost contact with my old professors, people who had cared about me, who had been invested in me. i was (am) drowning in student debt. i moved back home to save money. had to face my family and the questions they had about why i suddenly wasn’t singing anymore. i still haven’t told them about the trauma i went through, so they just don’t understand. my grandmother told me recently, crying, that she just wants to see me sing again, see me “make it” in opera before she dies. my dad still asks me to sing at family events and doesn’t understand why i don’t. i still can’t listen to some music, but i can finally listen to classical music again. i can finally sing again sometimes in my apartment. it’s still something fragile, something close to me that i feel terrified of sharing. i came across a tiktok of an opera singer who just sings for fun, and my heart felt like someone had gripped it and pulled it into my throat. i’ve spent the past few years trying to come to terms with it, with everything. i’m always here to talk if you want. i feel more pain about losing my singing than i do about the trauma that precipitated it. i miss my singing like i miss myself. so, yes, i do. i do understand. i’m so sorry. please know that you’re not alone in this. ♡♡♡

[do not reblog pls]

[luminousscammer]

all for myself

Midari Ikishima x fem!reader

note: i was doing another thing but this idea screamed at me to be written, i just know this b would get off with this. also this is self-indulgent lmao.

I'm aware that the fandom is kinda dead here but i wanted to post this anyway.

Warnings: smut duh, yandere-ish, slight dumbification and overstimulation, gunplay, i can't believe I'm saying this but POSSIBLY snuff? lmao

Wc: 1.3k

tags: @interstellarpumpkin

The first time you met Midari it was kind of… strange. She had already seen you before, gambling against other students who you almost always beat, you also had your losses but not enough to have a debt. From that moment on she couldn't take her eyes off you.

She would follow you to your classes and she even sent members of the beautification group to you, just to make sure you’re staying safe. You "accidentally" bumped into her in the hallway at school, she took that opportunity to say all kinds of compliments, she said that she always watched you from afar, she knew your schedules, even your favorite food, where you spent time when you wanted to clear your mind, etc.

For other people that would have been a red flag, that they should run from there as soon as possible!

But you didn't think that, on the contrary, you thought it was considerate and thoughtful on her part. She was completely stunned when she heard your response, it was the first time someone accepted her. From that moment on, you two became inseparable, her carefree and impulsive nature when gambling fascinated you, although, there were moments that made you worry, for example that time she played with Yumeko. When you saw the state in which she left her, you felt… jealous? But why?! If you two were only friends!!

The truth is that you developed a crush on her, everyone said that she was a freak, weird and obsessive, but that's why you liked her. You wanted to make her feel what Yumeko did, you wanted to hear her pathetically cry your name.

“If I manage to break you, you will be my girlfriend,” That took Midari by surprise, but didn't stop her from nodding like an overexcited puppy in less than a second.

XXXX

With hands tied at the wooden headboard and her legs around your hips, she whimpers as you ram into her, not even waiting for her to adjust to the strap. Bottoming out, she throws her head back and cries out your name, the sound of her whines drowning out your own moans. She can feel her heart rate pick up as you pull out almost all the way before sinking back into her cunt in one fluid thrust. Sobbing and wrapping her legs around your waist tightly, she raises her hips to meet each of your thrusts.

But this wasn't enough for you, coming to a halt, you reached out to open the drawer of the bedside table, Midari was about to yell at you to continue but as soon as she saw what you took out she swallowed her words.

“Let's make this more interesting, shall we?” The smile on your face was as twisted as any of the girls knowing that they had the upper hand, “Where were we?” Putting a single bullet in the revolver barrel, you gave it a spin and with a flick of your wrist you put it in its place.

Midari was speechless, from the moment she saw the gun, her mind and breath quickened, but this wasn't a bad thing, she couldn't wait for what was going to happen, thinking of all the possibilities her pussy clenched around your cock. Slamming back into her, you started a brutal pace, seeing her tits bounce up and down, her flushed face and teary eyes, and oh, don't get me even started on the sounds she makes, it was fucking music to your ears, so desperate and sinful.

With the hand that is holding the gun, you put it right above her temple, the coldness of the canon made her let out a pathetic whine. The sound of you pulling the hammer back, makes her keen into you, noticing her reaction makes you let out ragged breaths. At first you were wondering if this was a good idea, what if I accidentally killed her? ... It wasn't normal, but the way she squirmed under you, and the faces she makes, made you forget everything. Plus, you would be lying if you said that you didn't want to pull the trigger to see what the result was.

In an impulsive attack, you pulled the trigger.

Clank.

The sound rumbling in the dorm.

Her face screw shut, tears littering her lashes. “Y/N! Yes! Do it again! Fuck, do it again!” she cries out.

And you did, you did it nine times more, but you lost the count in that moment.

“Look at you, getting off to having a loaded gun to your head while being fucked dumb. You can't even talk properly anymore. Are you having a hard time, baby? Do you wanna cum?”

“Y-Yes! Please yes! I’m so close.” She moans like a slut for you, her words hitting something deep and fucking feral in the pit of your stomach. She's babbling nonsense as you hit her cervix over and over again, her walls clench and unclench around you, pulling the trigger one more time, with nothing but the clank sound coming out again, her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and combined with a few more thrusts against her spot she cums. Her nails bite into the heel of her palms, body going taught as her cunt flutters against your cock.

Your hips stutter hard as you chase your own high. Her pussy gushes warm around you, muscles spasming rhythmically despite the stretch of you filling her to her limits. She chokes out your name with a final gasp. You pull out before the oversensitivity can become too much, you crawl down her body. She's too tired to check what you're doing and assumes that you're just trying to get off of the bed to grab a rag.

You don't make a move to leave her side, though, and when the rough texture of your tongue draws a long line down her pussy, her eyes go wide. You repeat the motion once more before pushing your tongue into her and lick her cum out of her until she's all clean. Taking off the strap and straddling her stomach, you untie her hands with care, the skin of her wrists was red. When you were about to apologise, you didn't expect that she still had enough strength to throw herself into your arms with your back hitting the bed to hug you really tight.

Wrapping one of your arms around her naked waist, you let out a content sigh. “You know what this means right?” looking at you with an almost confused face, her cheeks suddenly tinted a vermilion color and showed you a smile that it wasn't like her. It was sweet, her eyes full of adoration, you could swear that if you stared a little longer you'd see hearts in her eyes. She lets out a little laugh and attacks you, peppering your face with kisses, it makes you feel full, wanted. You laugh at the ticklish sensation, happy that your work has paid off.

“I want you to myself,” placing both of her hands on your cheeks, she confessed. “I like you, I love you. I want to do everything with you, I never want to leave your side, if I ever died because of you I wouldn't even care, because dying by your side would be such a heavenly way to die.”

Now it was your turn to look at her, the tenderness in your eyes was the enough acceptance and confirmation that she needed. Without a single word, she places her head in your chest and closes her eyes, your arms cradling her like a baby. In that position, you both fall asleep with the security that both will be there for each other in the morning.

[cozy-neko]

The Cherry On Top • 01 • 02 | The Cherry On Top • 03

“Kozume, are you even listening to me?” Akaashi sighs and closes his laptop. He was only halfway through his scheduled agenda for today’s meeting, but there was no point in continuing if his client was just going to ignore him for the whole hour.

“I am, I am,” Kenma mumbled, eyes fixated on something that was hidden under the table.

“What did I just talk about for the last ten minutes then?” Akaashi challenged.

“We’re changing my video uploads from Tuesdays to Fridays, and Black Sheep wants to do a sponsorship with me in my next stream,” Kenma replies without skipping a beat. His feline eyes are still glued to his phone, unblinking, as his fingers tapped away at one of his games.

Akaashi sighed once more. “And you’re fine with the upcoming changes and sponsorship then?”

Kenma nodded. “Akaashi. I trust you to make the best decisions for me.” He finally slipped his phone back into his pocket and tilted his head to look his friend in the eye. “I didn’t hire you as my manager for no reason.”

“If I knew working with you was going to be this difficult, I would’ve stuck with my previous job.” Akaashi flashed the male a wry smile.

“Hey, if you want to hand in your resignation letter right now and go back to your previous life of disgusting convenience store food and cigarettes for lunch, by all means.” Kenma smirked and extended a hand out, palm up as if waiting for an actual resignation letter to manifest from Akaashi.

Akaashi cleared his throat and reopened his laptop. “Moving on...”

“TOORU!!!” Y/N screamed at the top of her lungs as soon as she spotted the fashion editor from across the courtyard. Lunchers nearby stared at the loud girl before turning their heads to look at the unfortunate boy on the receiving end of the shout.

Oikawa contemplated ignoring his friend and instead considered turning around to head back inside TK Mag’s office building. He would rather eat with his annoying suck-up intern than his embarrassing friend. Unfortunately for him, said friend yelled his name once more and beckoned for him to come over.

Oikawa’s eye twitched and he reluctantly trudged across the courtyard and towards Y/N.

“Don’t be so embarrassing, Y/N-chan,” Oikawa grumbled as he took a seat across from her.

“Oh please, as if that airplane tie you’re wearing isn’t embarrassing,” Y/N shot back, eyes flickering up once at the cartoon-printed tie before back down at her laptop screen.

“They’re UFOs, for your information,” Oikawa mumbled through gritted teeth, “and besides, Ayame-chan said it was cute, so your opinion is invalid and unnecessary.”

“Enough about your tie. I’m about to literally combust from nerves.” 

“What is it this time?” Oikawa rolled his eyes and lazily sipped his latte. 

“I’m about to schedule my first blog post for tomorrow.” At this, Oikawa’s eyes widened and he straightened up in his seat.

“Who’s the unlucky victim?” Oikawa scooted closer to Y/N, their elbows touching as he leaned in to read off her screen.

“You know, for someone who looks like she’s about to shit her pants from nerves, you wouldn’t be able to tell with Cherry’s online persona,” Oikawa hummed and nonchalantly commented. 

Y/N smacked his shoulder once in response. 

“That’s the whole point, Oinkawa. No one’s supposed to know that Cherry is me, and that I am Cherry.” Y/N sighed and brought the tip of her thumb to her mouth. She nibbled on her fingernail nervously as she clicked on the draft of her blog post. “Well? Can you tell who it is?”

“I would say Miya Atsumu, the MSBY setter, but I wouldn’t exactly call him beautiful, Y/N-chan.”

“It’s not Miya Atsumu and you take that back! He is beautiful, but that’s besides the point; it’s Kozume Kenma, the professional gaming streamer and content creator.”

“Well that’s subjective,” Oikawa sneered. Iwaizumi once had the opportunity to interview Miya Atsumu for an editorial, and Oikawa had tagged along much to Iwaizumi’s headache. Having played as a setter as well during his time in high school, Oikawa had some differences with Atsumu’s playing style, and the two did not get along too well that day.

“How’d you even get this dirt on Kozume Kenma anyways?” Oikawa made a face and smacked Y/N’s hand away from her mouth. “That’s disgusting, Y/N-chan, and you’re getting nail polish in your teeth.”

“I stalked his fan accounts on Twitter. It’s amazing what you can find with a little digging, to be honest.” Y/N scanned her draft. “And a little scary,” she added as an afterthought.

“Ugh, kami, I can’t do this, Tooru!” Y/N whined and shut her laptop, taking her head into her hands. “This is the most disgusting line of work I’ve ever imagined myself having to do.”

“You know no one is forcing you to take this promotion, right?” Oikawa leaned back and crossed his arms across his chest.

“This is Y/N and TK Mag we’re talking about here.” Oikawa and Y/N turned around at the new voice. “If you were over $100k in student debt and a well-known and well-paying company offered you a promotion, wouldn’t you take it?” Iwaizumi and Hanamaki walked up to the duo and took a seat at their table.

“You’re literally talking about the girl who’s dream is to become a princess and find a rich prince charming to take care of her,” Hanamaki added.

“Hey!” Y/N interjected, but was ignored. 

“But she also didn’t graduate as a journalist with an emphasis in fashion from UTokyo to become a gossip blogger,” Oikawa pointed out.

“Okay can we not talk about me like I’m not here?” Y/N pouted. “And you all have valid points.” 

She sighed. This was a tough decision. Y/N does have a lot of student debt to pay off, and the pay raise that came with the promotion was definitely enticing and worth drooling over. On the other hand, Oikawa was right in which Y/N didn’t graduate with over $100k in debt with a journalism degree to become a gossip blogger. But one thing that Y/N also had to think about was that this promotion would’ve been her opportunity to become a full-time employee at TK Mag, her dream company. And then there was Hanamaki, who was there just to out her (slightly) embarrassing and (very much so) unrealistic dream.

“Why’d you even take the promotion anyways? You could’ve just stayed an intern and wait for staff writer positions to open up.”

Y/N knocked twice before entering the Editor in Chief’s private office. “Good afternoon, Chief! You wanted to see me?”

“Oh yes, Y/N, come in. Please, take a seat while I finish up this email.”

Y/N grinned and skipped over to the loveseat that occupied the middle of the office. She crossed her legs and smoothed her blouse. Y/N was buzzing, and it wasn’t just because of the three cups of coffee she had stomached throughout the day.

“Judging by how you can’t sit still, I’m assuming you know why I called you in here.” 

“Oh, sorry. I’ve had one too many cups of coffee today,” Y/N responded sheepishly. “But I hope you’re gonna tell me what I think it is you’re gonna tell me.” 

It was hard for Y/N to keep the smile on her face from growing as she watched her Chief pull out a folder and place it down on the coffee table in front of her. The smile on Y/N’s face grew bigger as the Chief pulled out a piece of paper and slid it towards her. It was exactly what Y/N was expecting: a contract for a full-time position at the company.

“Congratulations, Y/N. Your hard work has not gone unnoticed these past few months you’ve been at TK Mag as an intern, and we’d like to extend our offer to you as a full-time employee.”

“Yes, yes, yes! I accept!” Y/N squealed and eagerly looked through her tote bag for a pen. “I don’t even care what staff writer position it’s for -- although my first choice would be for the fashion department since I did go to school for fashion journalism -- but I’m so excited!!” Y/N was already picturing herself attending fashion shows with Oikawa.

“Y/N, wait. Before you sign, I just want you to know that the full-time position isn’t to become a staff writer for the fashion department.”

“Huh?” Y/N stopped riffling through her bag. “...What is it for then?” 

“TK Mag is going to try something new. We’re going to branch out to a sister site and run a gossip blog called The Cherry on Top. I want you to take on the alias as Cherry and run the blog.”

“Gossip... blog...? The Cherry on Top? Me?” Y/N could hardly comprehend what the Chief was saying.

“Will you accept? I know it’s a brand new position and something we’ve never done before at TK Mag, but we have high hopes and I know you’ll do well as one of my best employees.”

“With all due respect, Chief, I’m a fashion writer. I write about fashion week and the latest trends in the fashion industry. I don’t write gossip nor do I want to slander anyone. It’s not my cup of tea.” Y/N narrowed her eyes. She couldn’t believe the Chief wanted her to do such dirty work.

“I had a feeling this might be the case.” The Chief sighed, and all signs of pleasantries disappeared. “Listen, Y/N, if you don’t want this promotion, I’ll give it to the next intern in line. But just know that if you don’t take this position, you’re going to have to clear out your desk by end of day and find a new company to work for.”

Y/N was in disbelief. She couldn’t believe her career was getting threatened. Her grip on her pen tightened as she stared at the document in front of her. The words Full-time Employee Contract for: Cherry, The Cherry on Top seemed to glare at her. 

“There will also be a hefty raise included in your promotion,” the Chief added after witnessing Y/N’s hesitation. “You did just graduate from UTokyo, did you not? Surely you don’t want to be riddled with student debt.”

Y/N was torn. What was she going to do? TK Mag was her dream company, and if she refused the promotion and got let go, she would drown in debt. Surely being a gossip blogger wouldn’t be too bad, right?

Y/N swallowed her pride and uncapped her pen. With a quick flourish, she signed her signature on the contract and forlornly shook hands with a now-smiling Chief. 

I hope I didn’t make the wrong decision...

“You made the right decision, Y/N. Welcome to the team.”

Y/N gulped. She couldn’t tell her friends that her job security had been threatened if she didn’t take the promotion.

“Well maybe it was time for me to grow up. I don’t need a rich prince charming to take care of me. I’ll take care of myself with my new pay raise.” Y/N grimaced on the inside. She hoped that was convincing, but judging by the silent stares she received from her three male friends, even she knew they weren’t too believing of her.

“Anyways, Cherry promised her 500 followers the first post will be up tomorrow, and she isn’t one to break promises, so... let’s queue this baby up.” With a swift click of her trackpad, Y/N’s first gossip post as Cherry was scheduled.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and Hanamaki shared a look.

Kenma was unfazed. He really was. Even when his Twitter notifications blew up with mentions, he simply ignored them. It wasn’t like he paid much attention to them in the first place anyways. And when he was in the middle of streaming and his Twitch chat started spamming the link to the blog post, he simply told his mods to delete comments that had anything to do with it.

Kenma was unfazed. Simply because it just wasn’t true. And even though the readers didn’t know if it was true or not and the article was currently trending in the Esports vertical and being repurposed for other articles, Kenma knew it wasn’t true and therefore did not care.

Except Akaashi was getting on his nerves as his manager continued to try to bring it up in conversations. 

“Kozume, you have to say something.”

“Why?” Kenma sighed. He really didn’t see the need to say anything. It wasn’t like this was the first time Kenma had been the subject of a rumor. It was all going to die down soon anyways.

“It’s been three days already and people are still commenting on it. Your fans are upset, and I think you owe it to them to explain your side.” 

“It’s not a big deal, Akaashi. If fans are that upset about a rumor of me boosting League accounts as a side business, they probably should get a job and hop off Twitter once in a while,” Kenma mumbled and continued to click away on his game controller.

“Well it’s not just your fans that are upset, Kozume. Your sponsorship with Black Sheep is also on rocks right now because of the rumor.” 

At that, Kenma’s fingers slowed, and he watched his character get headshot by the enemy on the TV.

“You’re telling me that they believe some stupid rumor that was probably written by a jealous 13-year-old?” Kenma scowled, and Akaashi finally felt his friend getting serious about the situation. It wasn’t often that Kenma showed his emotions other than his usual aloof self, but when his projects started to get affected, Kenma took things really serious.

“It’s not that they believe it, but they haven’t been as responsive to my emails as they usually are ever since the post was published. It seems they might be taking your silence as the truth.”

Kenma sighed and tossed his controller to the side. He wasn’t in the mood to game anymore. Instead, he stood up and trekked down the hallway towards his game room. Looks like he had a fire to diffuse if he wanted to keep his sponsorship alive.

end notes:

→ student debt and job security is no joke 😢

→ mattsun did not join y/n, oikawa, iwa-chan, and hanamaki during lunch because he was away on a photoshoot assignment

→ kenma did boost league accounts back when he was still in college and barely starting out as a streamer... except the accounts he boosted was kuroo’s and hinata’s because they wouldn’t stop begging him to until he did

TAG LIST:

if you’re interested in being notified when a new chapter gets published, please interact with the series overview post to be added to my tag list for this series!

also, please make sure your tag notification settings are turned on, or else I won’t be able to tag you!!

@howcanyoubreathewithnozaire @stupid-mimi @hiraeth-z @elianetsantana @onwnonly @purplelimess @random-stufff1 @winterstudent @akabiscuit @arttzume @ianieworld @sunnout @meemsx @dushsies @umiilikesmilk @lcmecobain @tsukkiyuuji @basilton485 @0grenntea0 @kiss-my-cheek @hugscore @thatfunnysprout @soynomnom @ittsvias @multi-fandom-fanfic​ @ms1015​ @restinpeace-minusone​ @lailaaparkerr @icantsleepcauseoffandoms​ @minhocatboy @its-the-aerieljeane​ @tiltedmint​ @thoughtfullydelightfulgiver @vivalasvegasbaby​ @miyayane​ @kiiayashi​ @china-yana​ @normalisthenewnorm​ @mer-majesty @kac-chowsballs​ @kodzuken-blog​ @dksfl920​ @zaras-warudo @infantwomanjen​ @tabipleats​ @lowqualityline @blondealpaca @kenmas1mp​ @rae-k-018 @gushinim @sunarinsbb​ @dksfl920​ @realityisabitch-blr​ @solarpanellol @nerdynstoned​ @keikluvv​ @kozutenshi​ @bakasbitch18 @manypreferences @divarooni812​