#open an account at Chase Bank

[californiaquail]

i went into a chase bank today to see if i could close my account because i am tired of getting charged $12/month for being broke and unemployed and while the banker was trying to convince me not to do this she was like "i just love us so i don't like seeing people leave us" and like first of all maybe try cutting out the bullshit fees then and also refunding me but second whoooooo shills for jp morgan chase like that. "i just love us" ??????????? girl i know they are not paying you enough to act like that. she also tried to get me to get a credit card but i declined. and then immediately walked across the street to a local bank to ask them about getting a credit card.

[starryhyuck]

under his desk. (m)

pairing: ceo!johnny x afab!reader

words: 7.4k+

summary: you discover your new boss has a secret hidden up his sleeve.

genre: smut, fluff

warnings: talks of violence, reader is jaehyun’s sister, rough sex, slight breeding kink, sir kink, public sex, creampies, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, mentions of throat fucking

“I need a job.”

Jaehyun’s mouth is wide open, spoon hovering over a bowl of soup, inches away from sitting on his tongue. His eyes dart up to see your anxious expression, eyebrows pulled together. He sighs, resting his spoon back down before leaning back in his chair.

“So this is why my sister finally reaches out to have dinner with me,” Jaehyun says, running a hand down his face exasperatedly.

“Come on, Jae,” you plead, fingers twisted in the napkin on your lap. A large chandelier hovers over the two of you, illuminating the disappointment gracing Jaehyun’s face. “You know I would never ask you for a favor like this unless I really have to.”

He observes the serious look on your face. It’s been years since you’ve reached out to him, the two of you losing touch after you parted ways when graduating from university. Your brother set off to a successful career in finance, climbing rank until he was nearly at the top, making an enormous amount of money that he had no clue what to do with. You were the opposite, chasing your dream of writing at a huge publishing firm, only to be met with disappointment by a few odd jobs and barely enough cash to cover the bills. You never asked Jaehyun for help even though you both knew you needed it.

He has a contemplative air cast around him, fingers rubbing at his chin lightly.

“I don’t know anyone in the writing world-“

“It doesn’t have to be that,” you immediately interject. You don’t care if he can smell the desperation across the table. “I’ve given up on that dream. I just need something stable, something I don’t have to make backup plans for if it falls through.”

He sighs again. “There is something, but it’s not easy-“

“I’ll take it, Jae. Please, I promise I won’t fuck this up.”

He stares at you for a while, taking in the hunger in your eyes. He hasn’t seen you like this since you graduated, proclaiming that you would become a best-selling writer before the year’s end. Now, you’re simply a girl crushed by the weight of your dreams and chasing a solid figure in your bank account.

“Let me see what I can do.”

—

You straighten your skirt for the umpteenth time, clutching the clipboard to your chest for dear life. The stiletto heels are digging into your feet but you keep your toes as straight as possible, trying your best to look like you know what you’re doing.

The door flies open and you take a deep breath. Johnny Suh walks by you without a word, taking his seat at his desk before finally sparing you a glance. His eyebrow raises at your appearance but he says nothing else.

“Good morning, sir,” you say with a smile. “I have your morning reports here and your daily schedule. Which would you like first?”

“My coffee.”

You pause, the smile slipping off of your face. “Y-Your coffee?”

He’s not amused in the slightest. “Black, no sugar. I expect it on my desk as soon as I walk into this room.”

“Yes, sir.”

A few beats pass. “Well?”

You stumble, racing for the door and exiting his office. You calculate there is absolutely no way you could make it to a coffee shop and be back on time, instead heading for the break room. You exhale as you place an empty cup under one of the high tech machines, waiting patiently as it brews for you.

“You’re the new assistant, aren’t you?” A voice questions. Another man walks into the room, taking a cup for himself and occupying another machine. He outstretches his hand to you. “I’m Doyoung.”

You shake his hand and smile politely, offering your name.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, watching as you carefully take the brewed cup of black coffee from the machine and search for a lid. “How’s the boss so far?”

You chuckle dryly. “Well, it’s my first day and I already forgot his coffee, so I can confidently say it’s not going well.”

He throws you an apologetic look. Before you can exit, he speaks again. “In my experience, Johnny favors resilience over anything. If you can show him that you’re serious about this without making a fuss, then he’ll reward you for the hard work.”

You smile thankfully. After bidding Doyoung goodbye, you make your way back into Johnny’s office, grateful to have met someone willing to help you navigate this job. Jaehyun warned you it would be difficult since Johnny was a particular man, to quote your brother, but you’ve handled much worse than a snooty CEO. You’re not one to back down this easily.

You slide the warm cup across his desk. His eyes are shifted downwards, shuffling through mountains of paperwork. He doesn’t glance up at you as he takes his first sip, lips twisting in a grimace. He turns his torso and points out the windows covering the back wall of his office.

“You’ll pick up my coffee order from that shop going forward,” he instructs. You have no idea what location he’s referring to as the view is just out of your eye line, but you make a mental note to check it later.

You nod obediently before taking your clipboard back into your hands, reciting his schedule for the day.

“You have a meeting with the board of directors at ten, a one-on-one with the CFO of Kim Enterprises at eleven, lunch at twelve, and back-to-back meetings regarding the Baek acquisition after lunch,” you say, handing him the sheet from your clipboard. He takes it roughly, sighing as he glances over it. “Here are the morning reports as well. Anything particular you’re craving for today?”

He regards you carefully, and you squirm underneath his judging gaze.

“You’re Jaehyun’s sister, is that correct?”

You swallow. “Yes, sir.”

He says nothing else in relation to the topic. “A sandwich from the Kim’s shop down the street will be just fine.”

“Yes, sir.”

—

After a few weeks of trial and tribulations, you can safely say you have found your footing as Johnny Suh’s assistant.

He is particular, yes, but you can see now that it is only due to the success of the business. When sitting by his side during his meetings to take notes, you’ve noticed how fast he is to shut down any propositions that seem like a waste of time and only approve ideas that are carefully constructed and thought out. Employees appear to equally fear and respect him, which Johnny was well aware of.

You can’t quite tell if he’s pleased with your work, but he hasn’t issued any complaints since the first day you joined. You ensure a cup of warm coffee from Min’s Market is on his desk every morning and a warm sandwich from the Kim’s is delivered to him by lunch. You made an effort to reorganize the filing system his prior assistant had tried to keep up with, which made both your and Johnny’s day easier whenever you needed to access an important document. You have his work schedule texted to his phone every morning instead of using the old paper route, which you find a lot more efficient, yet unsure if Johnny expresses the same sentiment.

It’s conflicting. You feel as if you’re doing a good job but your boss makes no effort to display praise. The only thing you keep reminding yourself of is Doyoung’s comment about resilience, and how you can expect Johnny to reward you in due time.

A call of your name disrupts your typing on your computer, and you’re quick to rise on your feet as you enter Johnny’s office.

“Yes, sir?”

“Ten just called me on my personal line. Make arrangements in my schedule for me to meet him today.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, writing down the instructions on your clipboard. “Anything else I can do for you?”

He pauses, staring at you thoughtfully. You hate it when he does this because you can never read what’s swimming in his head.

“You’re going to Jaehyun’s engagement party, I assume?”

You were ecstatic when your brother called with the news a week ago. He had known Miyeon since university and they stayed together through all the hectic chaos of Jaehyun’s career. He told you they were holding a small party at their penthouse this Sunday, and you were happy to attend in celebration.

You smile and nod. “Yes, I’ll be there, sir.”

He bobs his head once before waving his hand, dismissing you. You leave in confusion, but that was a normal emotion you felt around Johnny nowadays. You return to your desk and pull up his schedule, locating an empty slot for his meeting with Ten.

“How are you holding up, champ?”

You laugh when Doyoung approaches your desk, twirling a pen in his fingers. He’s made it a habit to check up on you every now and then. Another tidbit you learned when you began working here is that most people did not envy you for your position as Johnny’s assistant. If anything, they pitied you. Doyoung told you bets had been made around the office for when you would quit, to which you replied, “He’s not that bad.”

Doyoung chuckled and said, “Give it a few more weeks.”

Ever since then, he’s been spying on you for the rest of the employees, trying to see when your resolve would crumble.

“I’m still here, Doyoung,” you reply to his question, raising an eyebrow.

He grins. “That you are. Still having a hard time reading him?”

“Who doesn’t?”

He snickers. “Well, if it lifts your spirits at all, we’re heading out for drinks this weekend to take the edge off. Come and join us.”

You normally decline such an invitation as your weekends are reserved for catching up on some much needed rest. However, now that you’ve gotten a solid grasp on Johnny’s workload, you feel like a night of alcohol is exactly what you crave to wind down.

“You know what, I’ll be there.”

His grin stretches wider, and he’s about to speak again before another voice startles you.

“Mr. Kim, what are you doing?” Johnny’s stern voice asks, standing in the doorway of his office. He scrutinizes the both of you and your shoulders tense.

Doyoung scrambles. “M-Mr. Suh! I was just speaking with-“

“I can see that,” he cuts off Doyoung. Johnny narrows his eyes. “Is there a reason you’ve decided to interrupt my assistant’s work for mindless fodder about after-work events?”

“N-No-“

“It’s best if you return to your desk now, hm?”

Doyoung nods frantically, tail tucked between his legs as he nearly sprints out of the room. Johnny turns his attention to you, lips flattened in a straight line.

“I expect you not to waste time by flirting with other members of the work staff.”

Before you can protest, he’s walking back into his office, slamming the door behind him. You slouch in your chair, scoffing at his behavior.

What was his problem?

—

“I like this drink! Do you think they have tiny umbrellas behind the bar? It’ll make me feel like my life isn’t in shambles!”

You giggle at Joohyun, who is rambling loudly in your ear. It’s evident she’s had her fair share of drinks but she shows no signs of stopping.

You’re grateful Doyoung invited you to this outing because it feels like you can finally get to know your other co-workers without the walls of Johnny’s office blocking you. You feel light for the first time in weeks, and you’re not certain if it’s from the alcohol coursing through your veins or the absence of your ill-mannered boss. Either way, you’re reveling in it.

“Alright, truth or dare?”

You giggle, nearly spilling the shot of vodka in your hands. “Are you kidding me? How old are we?”

“Don’t be a sourpuss,” Doyoung says, nearly throwing his straw at you from across the table. “Truth or dare?”

“Hm, truth!”

“Boo,” Donghyuck from the marketing department yells. You pretend to throw your drink in his face and he ducks, making the whole table erupt with laughter.

“Okay, okay!” Sooyoung snickers. “Would you rather be an accomplice to a high profile murder case or fuck up Johnny’s coffee order?”

You shudder at the thought of delivering the wrong coffee to your boss, and the table is in hysterics over your expression.

“Definitely not the last one! He’ll have my head!”

The rest of the night is a blur, filled with more ridiculous dares from Donghyuck and silly questions from Sooyoung. You all part ways in the dead of the night, stumbling into taxi cabs as you wave goodbye. You elect to walk home since your apartment isn’t located too far from the bar. You shiver as the night chill nips at your arms.

You pass by another dimly lit nightclub, thrumming loudly with the sound of the bass. You know you shouldn’t, but you don’t want this night to end and crush the happy feeling in your chest. It’s the first time since university you haven’t had to worry about bills or how much the drinks of the night cost, and it spurs on your temporary foolish behavior. You enter the dodgy nightclub, convincing yourself that one more drink can’t hurt you.

The area is packed with people, namely older men with large builds and tattoos covering their forearms. You flag down a bartender.

“Hey, what’s going on tonight?” You yell over the sound of the music.

“Big fight downstairs,” he says, pointing to a staircase to the left of the bar. “Drinks down there are free for the ladies!”

Your eyebrows raise, and against your better judgment, your feet find themselves moving down the creaky staircase. The music dies down when you finally make it to the bottom, instead being filled with loud chatter from the bulky men around you.

“You’re insane if you think a newbie is going to come along and take out The Destroyer! He’s undefeated, you idiot!”

“All the greats have to fall sometime. Just watch and see!”

You make your way to the bar, which is a little more tattered and ruined than the one upstairs. The bartender’s eyes widen at the sight of you, which befuddles you until he asks, “Fan of The Destroyer?”

“Who?”

Three loud clanging sounds of a bell echo around the room, silencing the chatter. A man in a crisp tailored suit walks out, microphone in his hand. The crowd of people suddenly shuffle around until an empty square is left in the middle of the room.

“Welcome, everyone!” The man in the suit greets, the curve of his lips twisted into a smirk. “We have a great show for you tonight! For anyone looking to place their last minute bets, please locate Mr. Kim by the bar. Trust me, you won’t want to miss a fight this good!” The statement has the mass hollering while you look on in confusion. “Tonight, we have Payback in the left corner here.” The rallies grow louder as a young, lanky man comes forward, raising his fists in the air and encouraging the crowd. He stands to the left of the announcer, bouncing on the balls of his feet animatedly. “And in the right corner, we have the fan favorite, the undefeated, the legendary Destroyer!”

Your body locks up, breath caught in your throat while the room erupts in a deafening applause. Your hand covers your mouth in shock because the man who walks out, hands wrapped in red tape with his torso completely exposed, is none other than Johnny.

You nearly collapse into the bar from surprise, but the bartender reads your body language as something else.

“Incredible, isn’t he?” He says into your ear. “How much do you have on him tonight?”

You fail to respond, your mind whirling into a frenzy. There’s no possible way this could be Johnny — it had to be his long lost twin brother or you could be seeing it all wrong. From this angle though, it looks exactly like your boss, even as he wears nothing but a pair of baggy shorts hugging his waist. Your eyes drink in the litter of tattoos covering his chest, tattoos that are hidden in the daylight with his blazers and button-up shirts.

The announcer says a few more words that go completely over your head before ringing the bell, signaling the start of the fight.

You should go home. You should go home and pretend you never saw any of this. Staying here only implicates you, and you can’t imagine what Johnny would do to you if he found out you knew about his underground secret. You need this job, and staying here increases the chances of you losing it, so why can’t you move? Why can’t you pry your gaze away from the ripple in Johnny’s muscles as he lands the first blow, nearly knocking his opponent to the ground? Why does your throat go dry when he delivers punch after punch, eyes blazed with fury as blood begins running down the other man’s nose? Why do you stay rooted in place when the announcer declares Johnny’s victory, raising his arm high as the crowd cheers?

Then, he sees you.

His eyes lock with yours across the room, his victorious expression falling and shifting into something more grim.

That’s when you run. You sprint up the stairs and out of the bar, legs aching before you finally make it back to your apartment, shutting the front door and sliding your back down until you hit the floor.

What the fuck were you going to do now?

—

“Thank you all for joining us. This engagement is long overdue, and I’m grateful to Miyeon for sticking by my side even though I never deserved it,” your brother says, which causes Miyeon to bump his hip with hers jokingly. Guests chuckle at the small show of affection. “Please enjoy yourselves tonight and look forward to a Jeong wedding in the new year!”

Applause ensues, jilting you out of your reverie. You slowly clap with everyone else, trying your best to put on a smile.

You’ve been on edge since you walked into this party, and it’s all because of your idiotic actions from the night before. You contemplated showing up after being caught in the act at Johnny’s secret fight, but you knew it would be obvious if you missed your brother’s engagement party. Even though Johnny was here, you were determined to attend, albeit you having to avoid him like the plague.

In all fairness, you were succeeding thus far. You keep yourself on the opposite end of the room from him, never sparing a glance in his direction although you could feel his eyes on you during sporadic times in the night. Your plan is to leave at a time that wouldn’t raise any questions and go into work tomorrow and pretend you were never at the club that night. You hope Johnny would do the same.

For the sake of your job, you really really hope he would do the same.

You’re in the middle of assessing the charcuterie board, eyeing the various fancy cheeses. It’s just like Jaehyun to make this small party as extravagant as he could, knowing it would make no dent in his bank account. All the food is being carried around by various waiters walking around the floor to offer it to the guests.

“Having trouble making a choice?”

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. You slowly spin around to see Johnny behind you, one hand stuffed into his pocket while the other holds a flute of champagne. He’s wearing a more casual manner of dress, a silk burgundy button-up paired with baggy slacks. It makes his legs look longer and you swallow as he towers over you.

“S-Sir-“

“Johnny!” You’ve never been more grateful to your brother than at this moment. He approaches the both of you with a smile, clapping a hand over Johnny’s shoulder. “How’s my little sister doing as your assistant?”

Your hands twist around your back nervously. Johnny slips into a smooth, easygoing smile.

“She’s doing fantastic. I was actually coming over to tell her just that, especially since she’s the one carrying all of my secrets to the grave.”

Your heart thumps louder in your chest while Jaehyun laughs, taking Johnny’s statement as a joke even though you know better. Johnny’s eyes analyze you carefully, the dark halo in his orbs making you quake in your heels.

“And how about you, dear sister? How’s the scary boss holding up?”

You throw your brother a tight grin. “He’s wonderful, Jae. No complaints here.”

Jaehyun nods, pleased by your progress before excusing himself to mingle. He leaves you alone with Johnny, who stares at you like a predator assessing his prey. You’re about to bring up a comment about the weather before he says, “Pretty girls like you shouldn’t be lurking on the wrong side of town.”

A shiver shoots down your spine. “I-I live on that side of town.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I don’t pay you enough then.”

You exhale, certain he can hear the loud ringing of your heartbeat in your ears. He sets his champagne glass down on a nearby table before grabbing a bite-sized quiche, holding it out to you.

“I’m okay,” you decline and he hums, placing the treat in his mouth for himself. You can’t help the way your eyes linger on how his fingers graze his tongue, licking off any spare crumbs. You think about how those same fingers were pummeling into a poor stranger the night before. How the fire in his eyes couldn’t be tamed by the outcry of his fans.

You picture the same angry Destroyer hovering over you in bed, telling you exactly what he plans to do to you while his fingers wrap around your throat.

His mouth twists into a smirk and you shake yourself out of your daydream. He flags over another man and they shake hands, laughing as they exchange greetings.

“This is my assistant,” Johnny says, turning his attention to you as he offers your name. “She has big aspirations to work for a publishing company after she gets tired of me. Maybe Ahn Books has an opening?”

Mr. Ahn shakes your hand, telling you how lovely it is to meet you, but your eyes can only focus on Johnny. He’s staring at you with a knowing look in his eye and it takes you by surprise.

Was this a bribe to keep quiet about what you saw?

“Any worker who can handle Johnny is certainly a star in my books,” Mr. Ahn chuckles. “Let me know when this one starts getting on your nerves.”

You laugh anxiously and nod. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Ahn.”

Johnny gives you one last look. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He doesn’t provide an opportunity for you to respond, throwing an arm around Mr. Ahn and guiding him away into the crowd.

You release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

—

Johnny wants to fuck his assistant.

It’s plain and simple, but it’s very much against his wishes. When Jaehyun approached him with the ask to hire his sister, he didn’t hesitate to grant his friend the favor. He had known Jaehyun since they worked at their first company together out of college, and although Johnny had never met you, he figured you would be a good worker if Jaehyun vouched for you. Plus, his last assistant had just quit from being too “overworked.” Johnny thinks they weren’t trying hard enough.

You were pretty, way too pretty to be somebody’s assistant. You deserved to be the main attraction and Johnny is ashamed to admit he’s definitely salivated over the tight pencil skirts you’re always wearing around the office.

He convinces himself to put aside his own selfish desires considering you’re one of the best assistants he’s had in years. You’re incredibly organized and after he warns you once concerning something important, you ensure not to do it again. The only big thing that irritates him is how everyone in this office is clear about their desire to fuck you but you’re wildly oblivious to all of it. Do you really think Kim Doyoung comes to talk to you because he’s friendly?

It fuels him with jealousy and he’s not normally a jealous guy. And Christ, when he saw you in the crowd of his fight, blinking at him warily like a deer caught in the headlights, his heart stopped in his chest. He never intended on letting anyone know of his after-work activity, considering it was inappropriate for a man of his status to be engaged in such a violent act.

When Johnny first got into underground fighting, he had simply been a watcher. He was introduced to the scene by an old colleague and it intrigued him to observe random strangers beat the living shit out of each other for pure sport. He had practiced boxing growing up and the idea of finally discovering a place where he could put those skills to use drew him in. Most of the time, it gave him a spike of adrenaline when he won a match. It normally never gave him gratification to send his opponent home covered in blood, but he kept going because of the reputation he was building for himself.

And seeing you there, watching him win another match and once again being declared undefeated, it makes him feel... proud. Almost like he craves to prove himself to you, to demonstrate that he’s the kind of man that can take care of you.

He’s crossing a clear boundary line but his impulse to have you is overtaking the coherent part of his brain.

So when you walk in on Monday morning and squeak out a “Good morning, sir,” he swallows the need to bend you over his desk.

He greets you with a gruff “Good morning,” which has your eyebrows raising at the response. He normally ignores your attempts at chitchat, especially when it’s this early.

“I texted your schedule to you for today and I have your morning reports here,” you say as you slide over a stack of papers to him. “Can I get you anything else?”

You. Under the desk. On the desk. In the chair. Against the window.

“No, that will be all.”

You move to exit the room, pausing when your hand rests on the handle of the door.

“I-I just want you to know I haven’t told anyone about what I saw this weekend,” you murmur.

“I wouldn’t care if you did,” he replies frankly.

It’s true — he thought about it after leaving the nightclub on Saturday, and he wouldn’t be opposed if you went and told the rest of the work staff. Some sick part of him would actually be smug at the idea of you bragging about his wins to the other employees who so clearly want a taste of you.

“Oh,” you say, slightly startled. “Well, I still won’t tell. It’s your private business, after all. I shouldn’t have even been there in the first place.”

The nagging voice in the back of his head grows louder, desperate to learn what you think of him. “Did you hear what they were saying? How they were betting on The Destroyer?”

You squirm in your spot. “They said you were undefeated, that the newbie didn’t stand a chance.”

He wonders if you’re scared of him, frightened not only by his savage blows but his evident power over you. You must think that he intends to blackmail you to keep his secret, but he could care less what you choose to do.

All he wants is for you to feel the same way he does. He wants you to battle this warmth in your chest, to panic as your mind goes blank when you see him. And he can’t have any of that while you’re his assistant, working under him despite how much he would prefer you directly underneath him.

It’s why he introduced you to Mr. Ahn, an old family friend who owned one of the largest publishing companies in the country. Jaehyun mentioned to Johnny that your real passion was in writing, but the lack of funds drove you to your current spot. Johnny hates that your dreams were crushed because of something as trivial as money, which he carried an abundance of. He would fund your first book in a heartbeat if you asked, but he knows you well enough to understand your pride would never allow you to be indebted to him. He figures a job with Mr. Ahn would be more digestible for you, and it would provide him an opening to make his move.

“Do you ever get worried?” You ask him, chewing on your lower lip. “You could get seriously hurt fighting like that.”

An ache blooms in his chest. Do you care about him getting injured?

“I haven’t been hurt since I started fighting,” he shares with you. “I don’t give them a chance to get their hands anywhere near me.”

You swallow and he wrings his hands together under his desk. Does that turn you on? His office walls aren’t soundproof, but he could lock the door and throw a hand over your mouth to conceal your moans. His cock twitches in his trousers at the thought.

His fantasy shatters when you finally crack open the door.

“I’ll order a sandwich from the Kim’s for your lunch today, sir.”

“Why don’t you make it two and join me?”

You stutter. “I-I’m sorry?”

“Join me for lunch. I could use another pair of eyes on these awful spreadsheets.”

“O-Okay.”

—

Johnny is playing with fire.

He’s very aware of this, yet he can’t seem to stop himself. You’ve eaten lunch together everyday for the past two weeks, munching quietly in his office while he divulges his reasoning to you behind budget cuts and expansion decisions. In the beginning, you would nod and listen patiently. After his encouragement to speak up and voice your opinion, you slowly started coming out of your shell around him.

And he’s very well informed of what the office thinks about your private time together. Last week, he overhears Doyoung mumble to you, “You and the boss are getting close.”

A grin stretches from ear to ear on his face when he listens to your response.

“Oh, I guess we have. He’s been really sweet with me.”

An envious scoff from Doyoung is enough to make Johnny’s entire day.

Late that Friday, you both stay overtime in order to complete the documents required for the Baek acquisition that Johnny has to present to the board of directors on Monday. He insists that you finish your tasks in his office to be more efficient, although the real reason is that he wants to look at your legs while you work.

He watches as you roll your neck, humming when you finally hear the familiar snapping sound.

“Maybe we should call it a night,” Johnny sighs, tired of staring at you for hours without being able to discover what’s hidden beneath that skirt of yours.

You frown. “But we’re only on the seventh page.”

“I’m starting to think you enjoy this work more than I do,” he says with a smirk.

You look down bashfully, avoiding his gaze. “I just don’t think you’ll be ready by Monday if we call it quits.”

“Let me worry about that, hm? I’ll drive you home.”

Your head whips up. “Oh, sir, I couldn’t let you-“

“I want to,” he says firmly.

You smile softly and nod. The two of you pack up the rest of your things, with Johnny storing the paperwork in his briefcase to review for later. He escorts you down to the parking garage and you pile into his vehicle. He observes as you admire the sleek interior, and he’s conscious of the fact that the cost of this car could likely pay your rent for five years. He really does want to offer you a raise to get you into a better apartment in a more decent side of town, but he’s certain you would interpret the gesture as a bribe rather than an act of kindness.

As the vehicle merges onto the busy city road, you pipe up from the passenger seat.

“Are you fighting this weekend?”

The question startles him. You haven’t spoken about his fighting since the moment you told him you would keep his secret.

“Every Saturday,” he replies, sneaking a quick glance over at you.

You have a nervous expression painted on your face. He opens his mouth to ask why before you speak up again.

“Will you be careful?”

The car halts at a red light, and he uses the spare time to fully look at you. You stare back at him, your eyes filled with concern.

It’s completely inappropriate and out of line, but his hand reaches over the dashboard to grab yours. He raises the back of your palm to his mouth, lips brushing over your knuckles. The intimate gesture has you staggering your breath.

“I promise.”

Your words rattle around in his head the following day. He usually doesn’t need any words of encouragement before a fight, his music playlist being enough to boost his spirits. This time, however, he thinks about you tucked away in his car. He pictures your pretty face when he kissed your hand, how your eyes darted away from his in embarrassment.

You’re the reason why he walks into the crowd with a mission, clapping his hands together as he faces his mediocre opponent. When the bell rings, he doesn’t pull his punches as he strikes the first jab into the other man’s face. You’ve awakened something in him and the crowd’s cheers grow louder when he lands blow after blow. It isn’t long before his challenger is stumbling across the floor, falling on his back after Johnny delivers the final thwack against his abdomen.

A hand wraps around his arm and holds it high in the air. The announcer declares his victory, once again proclaiming him undefeated. The roars of the crowd fill his eardrums, but the only person he can think about is you.

His body moves before his mind can convince him otherwise, getting dressed and gathering his things as quickly as possible before exiting the nightclub. He nearly breaks into a sprint in the chilly night air, reaching your apartment within minutes.

When you open the door, your jaw drops open at the sight of him.

“Johnny-“

His hands cup your cheeks, pushing your body backwards until you hit the wall. His nose brushes against yours and your breath hitches, hands reaching up to curl around his wrists.

“Tell me I should stop,” he whispers against your lips. “Tell me I’m crossing a line and I need to walk out that door and never come back.”

He watches your chest rise and fall with each passing breath. Your expression crumbles before you press forward, locking your lips with his.

A frenzy ensues. He shuts the door to your apartment forcefully, almost rattling it off of its hinges. His tongue slips into your waiting mouth, fingers gripping your waist tightly. You’re whimpering against him, basking in the sweat and tanned muscles from his win.

“Sir-“

“Fuck,” he hisses, pushing his body against yours. You whine when you can feel his hardened member against the fabric of your shorts. “Do you know how much it turns me on whenever you call me that? Always parading around in these fucking tight skirts, calling me sir — you’re practically begging me to stretch you open.”

You pant. “I want you to. I really really want you to.”

You both clumsily move to undress the other, with Johnny’s fingers pulling down your shorts and your hands lifting up his shirt. There’s a little dried blood on his torso as evidence from the fight.

“Sorry, I didn’t shower before I came and-“

“Did you win?”

A pause. “Of course I won.”

Then your lips are on his, tongues swirling together. The kiss is sloppy with the two of you mouthing at one another, desperate to grasp at any physical contact you can. You squeak in surprise when Johnny lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist before pinning you against the wall.

He trails kisses down your neck, ripping your old university t-shirt in half and discarding it on the floor. Your sports bra follows after, and he gives you no time to complain before he takes your right nipple into his mouth, licking wildly. He shifts his attention between each breast, fingers flicking at the peaked bud if he neglects one for too long.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, whimpering softly.

“S-Sir-“

“Need me inside you?” He murmurs against your skin. “You’re so fucking tempting.”

“Please,” you beg, tugging at the strands of his silky brown locks. “I need you so badly.”

He’s quick to release his cock from the confines of his shorts, tip red and leaking. You whine when you see the evidence of his arousal. Johnny knows he’s bigger than most so he moves your panties to the side and runs a finger through your folds. He groans when he feels you practically dripping onto his palm.

“You really do need me badly, hm?” He remarks with a smug grin. “Tell me what’s gotten you so wet, baby.”

“Y-You,” you choke out. “Ever since I saw you fighting as The Destroyer, I-“

Your words are cut off by a piercing scream when the tip of his cock slides into you. He takes your arms and wraps them around his neck, stabilizing you as he cups his hands around your ass, rutting up into you. He can tell you’re marveling at his strength — his ability to lift you like you weigh nothing. He holds you close as his hips piston deep into your cunt.

“Look at what you do to me,” he bites in a venomous tone. “I can’t think properly when I’m around you. Want to bend you over my desk and let the whole office hear you sing for me.” Another sharp thrust has you tightening your hold around his neck, and he takes the opportunity to dangle your legs over his elbows. The angle fully allows him to fuck you perfectly, balancing you in his arms as he watches his cock disappear in and out of your weeping pussy. All you can do is hang onto him for dear life and take it. “Maybe I should invite Doyoung to come watch us. He’s always fucking chasing after you anyways.”

You unravel around him at a breakneck speed, pushed over the edge by the idea of him claiming you for all of your co-workers to see. He grunts when he feels you clench around him, offering a few more thrusts before he’s following suit. You whimper when he releases inside of you, painting your walls with his cum.

He finally sets you back down on the ground carefully, chuckling when your shaky legs cause you to stumble into him.

“Shut up,” you mumble bashfully, hitting his arm.

He kisses you again, hands resting on your lower back. “Do you think you’d be up for another round?” He whispers, eyeing his cum running down your thighs.

“I think you’re crazy,” you reply, which brings forward another bubble of laughter from him. You draw circles over his arm, admiring the swell of his muscles. Your voice shifts into something softer and lighter. “What are we going to do?”

He brushes his lips over your forehead. “I’ll figure it out. Just let me take care of you, hm?”

You giggle when he scoops you into his arms and carries you into the bedroom bridal style, preparing himself to make you moan for him all night.

—

Weeks after your passionate night with Johnny, you reach out to Mr. Ahn to see if there’s an opening at Ahn Books.

He offers a position as a junior editor and you accept it happily, eager to finally begin your career in the writing world. When you announce your departure from Johnny’s company, you’re surprised by the outpour of love you receive. All of the colleagues you spent a fun night out with bring you various flowers and stuffed animals, requesting for you to stay in touch. Johnny isn’t shocked in the slightest, huffing to himself as he tells you that they’re all in love with you. You simply roll your eyes at his jealousy.

At first, you kept your relationship with Johnny a secret in fear that people would assume you slept your way to the top. It proved extremely difficult to keep your boyfriend’s hands off of you, however. He ached to be near you at all times of the day, and you’re ashamed to admit your last two weeks in the office were mainly spent on your knees or bent over his desk.

“Ungh!”

A hand pushes on your lower back, arching your spine. Fingers tangle in your hair and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“What do you expect me to do now, hm? How am I supposed to get my fill of this pussy everyday when it’s across town?”

A smack echoes throughout the room when his hand collides with your ass and you bite down on your palm to prevent the mewls from releasing. No matter how many times you warn Johnny that the staff outside could definitely hear you two, he never holds himself back. There could be articles written the next day about the CEO fucking employees in his office and he wouldn’t bat an eye. His only focus is you, how you feel around him, how fast he can get you to whine for him.

One particular push of his hips has you reeling, gasping as you clench around him. He groans when he feels your climax hit, sending him tumbling over the edge before his warm seed fills you.

“Johnny,” you scold, reaching back to hit him lightly. “You know I stopped taking my birth control.”

“I’m aware, baby. Why do you think we’re moving in together?”

You scoff. You were initially opposed to the idea, but Johnny somehow convinced you that it would be much easier for you to move into his million dollar house and let him drive you to work every morning. There were no downsides to his proposal, truth be told, but you didn’t want to make it seem like you were using him for his bank account. He asked if he could fuck your throat to call it even, and you agreed.

He sits back down in his chair, pulling you onto his lap. Various papers and pens are scattered across the floor from the aftermath of your intimacy.

“It’s going to be a really good thing for you that I’m leaving,” you say, massaging the back of his neck as he licks at your collarbone. His cock is still seated deep inside you. “You haven’t been productive at work in weeks.”

“It’s the job for the next assistant,” he says dismissively. “Let’s go out tonight in celebration?”

“Okay,” you hum in contentment. “I really do want to thank you, you know. I was about to hit rock bottom before I started working for you.”

“No need to thank me, baby. I would do anything for you. As long as you keep supporting The Destroyer, I’m happy.”

You frown. “I’ll only keep supporting you if you remain undefeated. I’d hate to see you seriously injured.”

He laughs at the idea, as if the thought of anyone taking his championship title is unbelievable. He squeezes your hips and slowly begins to rock you back and forth on his cock, and you whine when you realize he’s growing hard again.

“Don’t be silly. No one has a chance against me.”

“D-Do you think we need to tell Jaehyun about us?”

Johnny shrugs. “It’s the job for the next assistant.”

Then he throws you over his desk once more, grunting as he claims your body until the sun sets over the horizon.

this fic was posted for early access to the $5 tier on my patreon, which you can access here!

[cartoonistga1]

Earning My Money Back That The Bank Took From Me

Hey everybody, My sister, unfortunately, got into a scam and my old bank, Chase, decided to close her and my bank accounts to "investigate". IDK if I'll ever be able to get this money back.

I'm opening c0mms to try and earn my money back; even if you can't afford it, please share this post around.

-All icons are $25

-DM on Tumblr or Email

-Email: cartoonistgal@gmail.com

-Links below where you can commission me

-Examples of my art below

[theambitiouswoman]

I love money and money loves me.

How to change your relationship with money:

Reframe the story you tell yourself: Work on establishing an abundance mindset. Look at your current beliefs and attitude about money. Do you have a scarcity mindset? Are you constantly chasing money and not believing you can reach your financial goals? Do you think money is bad?

Establish a positive mindset: Focus on gratitude for what you already have and embrace the belief that there are endless opportunities to become financially successful. Practice affirmations or visualization exercises to reinforce positive thoughts and attract abundance.

Educate yourself: Expand your financial literacy by reading books, watching videos, going to seminars or taking online courses on personal finance and money management. Understanding concepts like budgeting, investing, and saving will help you make informed decisions and take control of your finances.

Create a clear plan: Define specific and realistic financial goals for yourself. Whether it's paying off debt, saving for a home, or starting a business, having clear objectives will give you direction and motivation. Break these goals down into smaller milestones to make them more achievable and real in your mind.

Create a budget: Create a budget to track your income, expenses, and savings. Budgeting helps you gain a clear understanding of where your money is going and allows you to prioritize your spending. Ensure that your budget aligns with your financial goals and helps you save for the future.

Monitor your spending: Monitor your expenses closely to identify any unnecessary or impulsive spending habits. Use mobile apps or spreadsheets to record your expenses and categorize them.

Save and invest wisely: Make saving a priority by automating regular contributions to a savings account. Start building an emergency fund to cover unexpected expenses. Investing your money wisely to grow your wealth over time. Make your money work for you. Having money just sitting in the bank will not make it grow.

Needs Vs wants: Before making a purchase, ask yourself if it aligns with your values and financial goals. Avoid impulsive buying and give yourself time to consider whether it's a necessity or a fleeting desire.

Surround yourself with people who feel comfortable talking about money: Engage with people who have a healthy relationship with money. People who can casually have a conversation about making $10k, $20, $50k etc a month without blinking an eye. This will open your eyes about what you can have and help you feel comfortable with setting goals for yourself.

[intergalactic-garbage]

true facts about little alex horne

he can fit a penny in the gap between his teeth

has exactly 30% fewer bones than the average person

comes into work with his sandwiches cut into fingers, because he believes they "taste better"

tina turner once described him as "simply the best", and in a separate conversation, "a complete arsehole"

goes around the supermarket following people he thinks look cool, and when they pay and throw away the receipt, picks it up, and buys what they bought

nibbles and scurries his way through life like a long human rat

has his mantra going in his head at all times, and it's "absoluta pulsis voluptatem" (absolute driving pleasure)

when naked, looks like a weird, ill monkey

has crumbs in his beard dating back to the 90's

when it comes to childcare, he doesn't think his wife rachel "pulls her weight"

he doesn't really like women, because he thinks they've gotten a bit "too chopsy of late"

walks like a weird victorian clockwork toy soldier

is the answer to the question "what happens if you throw chunks of pork at a revolving carwash brush?"

his new years' resolution was "bringing back the patriarchy"

his first french kiss was with his second cousin jacob, now a legal underwriter on the isle of man

he doesn't think the NHS is very good, and according to him, some nurses are "lazy"

cries every time he watches free willy, and frees his willy every time he cries

has a separate bank account that his wife doesn't know about

as a child was so irritating, that his mother paid for "a barrage of medical tests"

he's scared of three things: slugs, small spaces, and women being allowed to vote

was once chased and bitten by a peacock in a day he refers to as "the day [he] lost [his] children's respect"

thinks all primary school teachers are the scum of the earth

thinks the refuge team that collects his bins every week are "stupid" and "don't deserve to be paid"

thinks climate change is a hoax propagated by "liberal pussies who don't know how to party"

sometimes deliberately revs his engine in traffic, because it makes him feel "like [he's] in charge of all women"

"[doesn't] know much about politics, but [he thinks] poor people should stop moaning and pull their flipin' fingers out"

is the answer to the question "what does a corpse look like when a corpse continues to grow hair post-mortem?"

his father has only ever given him one christmas gift, a beautifully wrapped piece of welsh slate, that had one solitary word engraved upon it. that word? toad.

until the age of 14 thought his penis was an eleventh finger, with the specific purpose of putting stamps onto letters

when he was young, used to practice kissing on his grandfather's pet carp "mr. suckles"

his slogan is "friendless oddball"

if it was up to him, scotland would be physically sawn off from the UK, and floated into the north sea. horne stated that "we'll soon find out how much they want independence when all they've got to eat is shortbread"

when his wife shouts at him, he whispers "get lost" under his breath

his children call him "little alex horne"

once got dragged 11 miles through the open country side by holding on to what he believed to be a horse's "fifth leg"

makes up tasks in his jacuzzi, and knows he's got a "good one", because "[his] bald ferret breaks the surface for air"

if he sees the pilot of any plane he boards is a woman, he immediately leaves

once hospitalized himself by doing high kicks to toxic by britney spears

🎶 he says he's over six foot but he's five foot four 🎶 little alex horne! 🎶

without hair would be as physically featureless as one sausage

ran away with a circus, but was sent back home, because he was annoying everyone and upset the animals

at some point nearly every day, he cries

once did a poo in a paddling pool

pretty woman is his favourite film

collects teapots that look like cottages

has no respect for the military, and if any soldier came up to him in public, "[he] could easily have them coz they're all stupid"

his head is shaped like the rubber of a pencil, and his body is shaped like a pencil

statistics are his foreplay and spreadsheets his post-coital cigarette

his wife keeps a pocketful of treats for when he remembers to "do toilet outside"

is single-handedly keeping the plastic shoe industry alive

once wet himself on a train when he was 30

hasn't bought car tax or insurance since the 90's, because he thinks it's an example of "big government"

[friskafriskito]

Charity Commissions 🇵🇸

Hello guys, it's been a while!

To cut to the chase: I would like to help spread both awareness and support for those suffering in the ongoing genocide in Palestine. So, in light of this, I will open up some commissions where rather than paying me, you simply provide proof of your donation.

I know this blog is mainly just for my art, but if I can use my art for any good I would like to do so. If you cannot donate, please reblog!

Here are some recommended links:

E-sims for Gaza: https://gazaesims.com  

Palestinian children’s relief fund: PCRF

Women for women (hygiene kits, blankets, food): Urgent Support for Women in Palestine Women for Women International

Anera dignity kits: https://www.anera.org/stories/gaza-emergency-aid-includes-dignity-kits/

But of course you can donate to any related organization and fundraiser you like, even if it’s not included here!

If you are Egyptian you can also donate to any of the organizations listed under the Instapay, Talabat, Fawry apps, or your bank app under their ‘donations’ services with the equivalent price in EGP (based on the bank rate). Just provide a screenshot.

For a written list of the prices, the do/don'ts, and so on, please look under the read-more for more details!

How Does this Work?

Send me the idea you have and I will let you know if it’s good to go or if it’s not appropriate (or if I can’t do it due to time/work)

When you get the okay, I will ask for more details (references, colour schemes, poses, which charity you plan to donate to, etc.)

I will draw you a basic thumbnail for your confirmation (these are very vague sketches to just pinpoint the pose).

Once you confirm the pose, I will ask you to donate and I will get to work

Send me a screenshot of the e-mail confirming your donation (blur out/colour over any personal info!), or the “Thank you for your donation!” screen if there is no e-mail

You get your drawing in exchange!

NOTE: I will likely post them on my artblog and Instagram, so if you don’t want them posted there or would like to remain anonymous, please let me know!

Also bear in mind I have a full-time job, so they might be a while! But you WILL get your commission.

HALF-BODY

$5-$9: Lineart $10-$14: Monotone $15-$19: Colours, flat $20-$24: Colours, shaded Above $25: Colours, shaded, with background

FULL-BODY

$10-$14: Lineart $15-$19: Monotone $20-$24: Colours, flat $25-$29: Colours, shaded Above $30: Colours, shaded, with background

Yes-es:

Fan art is fine (I won’t be getting any monetary profit from this)

Characters from original stories

Personas/self-inserts/fan characters/Tabletop RPG characters

Real!you, family members, friends, etc. (at the risk of them not looking like them at all :’D)

Animals (they might be a bit less cartoony as I'm not used to them but yes)

Personifications/anthropomorphic/strange creatures in general

Nos:

No discriminatory content

No religious figures, symbolism or content (I am Muslim so… Cannot Really Do That)

No extreme gore or suggestive themes, or characters from media that feature a lot of either (this is because my art blog is PG-13, and I’d rather not anything off-colour for a charity commission anyway)

No using these with AI or NFTs

Do not use for commercial purposes. These are for charity!

I reserve the right to decline your commission if I feel like you have insincere ulterior motives, or if an emergency comes up.

Generally, keep this PG-13/grandma-friendly!

Pleases:

References (preferably image based, but text is fine if there is no visual depiction/canon design)

Colour you associate with the character if monotone

Poses (just not lewd or rude)

Context (like description of their personality, what they like, their setting, etc.)

Ask first:

You are free to repost the artwork on another platform as long as you credit me as the artist. Absolutely use them if you need a picture for something like an RP account!

If from your original work, you may use them in non-commercial projects, just please credit me (and give me a heads up so I can go check it out! :D).

If an original character from an original story, you are free to use the artwork to help with things like visual development (let’s say, you are creating a game, comic or pilot, and you want a reference for the artists on your team to use), just once again give me a heads up and credit me as the artist.

If you've made it this far, and can't donate, thank you so much for your interest anyway. At the very least, this reached someone.

[delulu-with-wandanat]

International Affair

Welcome to my shameless self-insert series🤭 Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Last

Reader Description: Masculine style, They/He, AFAB, International Student, 20 Years Old. Sometimes will be describe using masculine terms (man, boy, handsome, etc)

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x InternationalStudent!Reader

Warnings: Specified age gap (Wanda is 34).

Summary: For their summer break, Y/n decided to spend it in a little town called Westview. It was there when they met Wanda Maximoff. A woman in her 30s with two kids, who seems to be attracted to the college student despite being married.

New York University's tuition was fucking ass. It really is, at a whopping $64,000 tuition fee per year. And that's only the tuition fee, the total estimate of studying in NYU plus living cost was probably over $90,000. Exactly it's fucking insane. Despite receiving a sponsorship from their parent's good friend and also financial aid from NYU, he still needed to figure out how to pay it back.

Sometimes they feel like smacking their head for choosing to study in a city where it's known for its back bank breaking living cost. Can you blame him though? Those tall buildings, shining lights, bustling nightlife, sounds of gunshots, and a huge opportunity for a creative person such as themselves, along with a dash of capitalism. Y/n couldn't help but be fascinated. That American dream that he had been chasing since he saw the Devil Wears Prada.

It was now summer vacation. Instead of going home for the summer, Y/n decided to join this Homeshare Summer program. Basically an elderly person provides home for students to share during the summer. The benefits are plenty, but most notably, cheaper housing rent. His roommates also joined this program, together they sublease their apartment. Adding extra funds to their breaking bank account.

In return, the students must help their elderly host with basic domestic needs. Mostly light household tasks; preparing and sharing meals, tidying up, chores, walking a pet, etc.

Y/n ended up matching with someone in a small town called Westview somewhere in New Jersey. As much as he loves New York, he wanted to spend his summer somewhere else in America.

He matched with a lovely widow named Melina Vostokoff. He learned that she has 2 daughters, both whom are adults with their own respective career. She needed a companion, understandably so, and Y/n was more than happy to assist her in anyway she might need.

"Y/n." Melina called.

"Yes, Mrs. Vostokoff?" Y/n looked up from their laptop, they were sitting on the dinner table editing some footage.

"Oh dear, please, I told you to call me Melina."

"Sorry, Melina. Force of habit." He said with a smile. "What's up?"

"Would you please send all this batches of cookies around the neighborhood? I already have a list of houses on where you can drop them." Melina is known for sharing batches of cookies for free around the neighborhood. Why? Out of kindness.

And also the fact that she loves baking, but ended up not being able to finish it all. So she shares them around the neighborhood.

"Sure, Melina! I'll do that right away."

So he sets of to drop off delicious dessert for Westview citizens. Melina had told them that this was a good chance to ask around for a summer job as well. Which is what he had initially planned to do anyway. Finally they reached the last house, Maximoff Household. They weren't so lucky with the other neighbors, but last one's a charm right? He rang the doorbell.

A person then opens the door. "Hello, I was just-" Holyfucking shit. This woman was absolutely gorgeous.

"May I help you?" She ask, god her voice is sexy.

"Uhhh..." Snap out of it! "Sorry! I'm Y/n, I'm the student staying over the summer at Mrs. Vostokoff. She told me to drop off her Bi-Weekly batches of cookies."

Wanda wasn't stupid, she noticed their nervousness and found it adorable. "Lovely to meet you, Y/n. I'm Wanda, Wanda Maximoff." She offered her hand.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Maximoff." He shook her hand.

"Do you go to Westview University?" She was rather intrigued by the younger one.

"No, ma'am. I actually go to NYU, I'm studying film production."

Wanda raised an eyebrow and smiled. "How impressive. Though I must ask, why choose to spend your summer here?"

Damn... her smile.

"Mainly a much cheaper living cost, other than that I figured It'll be good for me to explore other parts of America. New Jersey is not far so it's a good place to start."

"Ah, an International student I see. Is it one of those Homeshare programs?"

"It is!" The student beamed.

What a charming smile he has, Wanda thought to herself. "Say, how old are you, Y/n." She ask while leaning against the door frame, her tone was... rather flirty.

"Um... I'll be turning 21 this year." Wanda hummed at the answer. For what reason Y/n doesn't know either. "Here are your cookies, ma'am." Well shit, he was getting nervous again. Obviously, Wanda staring at him with a look he can't quite pin.

"Oh! Thank you, dear. My sons absolutely love Melina's cookies." She took the container from them.

"Well that's no surprise, I could live off from those cookies alone." They said while laughing lightly. "So I take it you've lived here for a while?"

"Yes, I've lived here for years with my twin boys and husband." Damn it, they thought. "Anything you would like to know?"

"Yes actually! I've been looking for a summer job, but I haven’t had any luck."

"Well, lucky for you, a friend of mine who owns the Cafe in town is looking for a new Barista. She just recently opened the position."

"That's great news! Thank you so much for letting me know, Mrs. Maximoff." They said with a smile, Wanda had another idea in mind.

"However, I think they're only offering part-time. If you're looking for some extra work, I may need a few... help around the house. Would you be interested?" She asked with a devilish smile.

Y/n, being too excited at the possibility of finally landing a job, failed to notice the flirty undertone in Wanda's sentence. "Absolutely!"

"Splendid! Come over to my house tomorrow and we'll discuss the details."

"I will see you tomorrow, Mrs. Maximoff. Thank you again!" The young man said with a bright smile, he started walking backwards onto the sidewalk.

"See you tomorrow, Y/n." Once they turned their backs on her, Wanda bit her lip. She had multiple things in mind for Y/n to help her with.

I did a quick research on the law of international students working in the US. I didn't get into detail but it basically said yes but there are restrictions. So ignore the actual laws, and y'know just - whatever man it's a fanfic :') When I saw the estimated cost of studying in NYU i almost cried-

Also I hope you guys don’t mind I go with a more masculine reader for this one (i really want to be called a good boy by Wanda)

I hope the reader description doesn’t confuse you guys, if it does. Its ok, i self inserted myself and im very confused abt my gender-

[judasgot-it]

I’m in love with your writing like omg🩷could i request what kind of lovers are Dazai, tecchou and Nikolai?

(english is not my mother tongue so i dont mean cheat btw…)

IVE BEEN WANTING TO GET TO THIS ASK FOR A WHILE BUT I HAD TO TAKE A BREAK AND AAAAAA

I have SO many headcannons about these fools oh lord. Also hoping I got what you meant cuz I won't lie I am a bit SILLY.

Headcannons: what kind of lovers are they? Dazai, Tecchou, Nikolai

Dazai

He sees his own misery inside of you, which he thinks is romantic. He thinks its beautiful that the two of you can understand each other's suffering in a way no one else can.

I don't think I need to state that while this is romantic in a literary sense, it's a major red flag

Dude would 100% want to do things that he thinks are "romantic" for couples to do together.

For example - murder-suicide, robbing stores together, double-suicide, arson, planning each other's funerals-

Man has a sick sense of romance and death

But he can be romantic!! Sometimes.

Despite being young he knows how to actually take care of his lover - at least in technicality

What he really enjoys, however, he has to suppress

That cold cold sick heart of his wants to isolate them, keep them away from everyone - but he knows that isn't really a human thing to do

So the type of lover he really is the kind of guy who can really only bond over either sex or when you're drunk/sad over the past

dude wouldn't even be able to have sex without crying or would have to do it in the dark, like he just gets too emotional and insecure

100% obsesses over your own trauma and will take any time he can to talk about it - but never his own

sorry dude has red flags ALL over in my mind, I just don't think he would do happy stuff because he would think it's very fake

He can't enjoy any happy occasion, especially dates

definitely thinks weed, deftones, and sex is a good date

Don't date this man if you try to break up with him he will come to your doorstep whimpering and crying telling you that he's gonna kill himself and that you're the only one for him even though he cheated on you

he just strikes me as a messy kind of person

Tecchou

Wants to be your hero. He knows your strong - but he wants to be strong for you. You deserve to be protected from the dangers of the world.

He believes in justice and is a MASSIVE dweeb for "playing the hero"

Man has good intentions that are EXTREME

So yea, he is a bit of an extreme lover

If he can, he'll protect you from anything. It's just his thing

He will try to eradicate all of your fears. Scared of the dark? Your house is brighter than the sun. Scared of bugs? sad, but he will chase them away.

Does this mean he's good at romance? Not really. He'll do anything you tell him too though

Literally anything. Almost. He wouldn't kill someone, but yea that man would 100% try a lot of weird and freaky shit.

would also not care if you weren't into sex. pretty sure that if he likes someone he is just LOYAL lol

although tbh he doesn't strike me as the horny type he just is too dedicated to his job like I'd give it 20/80

idk if he's a freak either like he's probably seen some weird nasty shit so he either is the most vanilla man to walk this earth or is into some weird ass shit.

(I bet it's cake sitting or some food shit. He and Ranpo are too similar, they would both be into weird food shit)

ANYWAY Tecchou is one of those guys who would do cute shit like open the door for his partner everywhere and hold their bags

It's very sweet. Bro 100% lifts.

probably calls while at work which is terrifying and horrible cause you'll hear gunfire but he'll pretend it's normal

Man is also technically property of the state so just know that if you're in a relationship with him you will always have someone stalking you, as you are now a threat to national security

but it's worth it for Tecchou <3

also, he has a huge bank account I bet but would buy either useless gifts or upgrade everything his partner owns cuz he probably only wears his military uniforms and compression shirts.

What's he gonna spend his money on, really?

Nikolai

The world is cruel and predictable, especially with people like him. He hates someone having control over him, so he would only love someone if he chose to - which is fickle at best.

AHHHH omg he's so hard to pin down because Nikolai 100% would be the worst person to have as a lover (jk)

Hot and Cold by Katy Perry esq

Like, 100% if he loves them he LOVES them but if he hates them? he HATES them

but I don't think he really changes his emotions that much, he's sensitive but not so drastically

Definitely is an interesting person to love - would do crazy and weird shit for his lover

doesn't do normal dates. he's a magician, everything is a trick with him

probably gives riddles and doesn't wait for them to be solved - they just lead up to silly dates or gifts. The gifts are probably tame like a drink they like or like, flowers. Maybe some random fingers if he saw that a server was rude.

Does the bottle up his ass trick a lot. or says "do you like magic in bed?" and then never pulls his pants down he just shows every single magic trick he knows.

Listen. that man is WAITING for an audience he will take any chance he can. He'll even pull out some tricks while in the middle of doing it. Let him show you his magic tricks, he practices very hard on some of them.

ranking him as the type to be an exhibitionist and a bit of a freak - how much? idk but he has his coat so who knows what kind of stuff he has on him.

also don't get into a philosophical convo with him this guy will start to talk all sorts of crazy

or political

unless ofc there's common ground then CONGRATS

also I feel like he would be a gentleman. Would probably bring his lover flowers and shit.

once brought oranges though. never explained why.

sorry about the NSFW but I needed the giggles. I did in fact giggle

[multifandomslxt]

Nct 127 as fratboys Pt.2

Yuta

Lemme just start off by saying

HE WILL TAKE YOUR BITCH!!!!

lmaooo

This man has a different girl on his arm every week

I am so serious

It was Keisha, It was Sonya, It was Tonya, It was Monique, It was Nece, It was Keke

if you ask him

He'll tell you he didn't fuck them but he did

multiple times

and it's ironic because

He takes at least 3 gender studies courses every year

so this man right here is a feminist Fratboy

lmaooo

he respects women but will never turn down s3x

He's an Architectural Design Major

so he's good with hands and stuff *wink wink*

the type to skip lectures but still pass the course

He is at EVERY SINGLE party

will never miss one

he 100% knows that him being a feminist contributes to the amount of pu$$y he gets

if y'all fuck he gives you a lollipop or a coupon as a parting gift

if you were good just know he's gonna check on you every 2 weeks lmaoo

"That pussy still mine right?...well it's yours in theory because you know I don't own your body but you get what I'm saying..."

He's a jerk but also...not a jerk

Doyoung

please this man would be the snobbiest

most uptight fratboy everrrrrr

He's an Economics major

don't be mistaken though honey

He's uptight asf but he is a frat boy

anything you need just ask him

yes he cusses Johnny out whenever the house smells like weed

but he's the one that buys it every Tuesday and Thursday @ 4pm sharp

Yes, he smokes it but don't tell anyone...

YES, hell tell you he's celibate if you ask

but between me and you...

he definitely fucked that one lecturer so she could fix his grades

and he also fucked her daughter

and the daughter's best friend...

anywayyyyyyyy he doesn't like to talk about it.

ifc you were to compare all of em

i'd say Doyoung has one of the highest body counts here

but strangely enough no one would know

unless he said it

He's had multiple pregnancy scares

to the point where now

he has a bank account open just for that

Hates bitches who try to hard

but loves the chase

he's sneaky asf and if you know what's good for you stay out of his way

Jaehyun

The embodiment of fratboy

He's 100% a legacy

generations of menacing behaviour

he's a business major

daddy's money type of guy

so he really doenst give a fuck

he does EVERYTHING

smokes

hosts sex parties (much to Taeil's displeasure)

Fucked an entire sorority

fails his exams

leads girls on

etc.

he is allergic to relationships

there i said it

where as i can see the rest of em settling down eventually

if Jaehyun were to settle...he'd cheat.

yes, he wears his cap backwards and calls you "shawty"

surprisingly, he has female friends that he chersihes

gives them advice on how to steer clear of gutys like him

he's a jerk.

lmaooo 'm so sorry but it's true

he fucks allooooot

Loves easy pre

he aint willing to chase nobody

he has the highest body count in the frat.

not ashamed of it at all

surprisingly keeps up with his monthly doctors appointments

Beer pong is his calling

As mentioned ealier his jungle juice could put you in a coma

honestly, he probabaly has more alchohol than blood in his body

THE KINGGGG

OF SITUATIONSHIPS

if you can't handle that STAY OUT OF HIS WAYYYYYYYYYY

[phantomrose96]

Yknow I don't think I've... talked about the absolute smorgasbord of shit what's gone wrong with my condo since I moved in so

day 0 - hadn't moved in yet, was just moving items over, turned the sink on for just a moment. turns out the tube feeding into the sink faucet was full of holes (how???) and this caused a never-ending leak under the sink. the standing water rotted the baseboard under the sink

still day 0 - said leak and water accrual dripped down and damaged downstairs neighbor's ceiling ($$$). she has to call me to tell me about it.

I have to get a plumber out there next day (still not living there yet! empty place! I have to take off work). While waiting for plumber, I discover heat's not working.

Go to basement to investigate boiler. Seller didn't fix the issue they claimed they fixed.

Plumber looks at sink. Declares it full of holes. Says he can come back in a few days to fix it.

(Plumber postpones, then flakes. I chase down a different plumber.)

Plumber 2 says the issue is with the garbage disposal, not the faucet. Can come back x days later to work on that, and the boiler.

Plumber 2 comes back x days later (I have to take off work again), says "oh the disposal was messed up but also the faucet has holes." Says he can come back maybe the NEXT day with a new faucet

Oh also the smoke detector in the back hall is low battery beeping and I don't have a battery for it. It's constant, every minute on the minute.

I bike to a hardware store and buy a faucet and a battery ($$). Get lost on the way home. (All of this back and forth is by bike. I live in the city and do not have a car.)

Plumber replaces the faucet ($$). I replace the smoke detector battery but it's still beeping. Dozens of more stupid minutes later of going up and down and up and down stairs and dragging my big stupid ladder around, I realize it's the carbon monoxide detector which is hidden behind the door I need to open to even get to the back hallway.

Plumber services the boiler ($$$)

I move in. I have a less than great time emptying everything from my apartment, which doesn't have plumbing issues. On a bad foot to start.

Travel for Christmas. Come back. Now the first floor back-hall smoke detector is beeping. (At least I have a fucking battery. Get my big stupid ladder down the back hall, knock every wall on the way down, and replace that battery).

I get first month's heating bill (I'd been living there for 10 days if even.) $334. Jesus christ. Likely due to the boiler issue.

Electricity goes out for the evening, same day as I get this bill from the gas and electric company, because fuck you I guess.

Homeowners insurance log in doesn't work. I haven't received my bill, which I need to pay.

Radiators bang in the middle of the night. Something something about them being old or not level or full of ghosts. Cool I don't need to sleep or whatever.

I've received no correspondence from the bank about my first mortgage payment. It'll be due Jan 1st, which is a holiday, so I reach out early. They say it's in the mail.

I monitor my mail every day. I receive no mail. I contact again. I reach out to my old apartment building in case it's there (they can't tell me). I sign up for a bank account with them online. I jump through various hoops to discover the bank has my address wrong. The address of the place the mortgage is on...

They had the mortgage address right. They had my home address as identical to the mortgage address but with one number missing. No one noticed. They'd been sending my stuff to a non-existent address, or the back of a college warehouse, I haven't quite figured it out.

I jump through more hoops to pay my mortgage payment with a check in the mail (I had to go buy stamps and an envelope) (late, but they assure me there's no penalty, but are you sure.)

^This has all been about 2 weeks. btw.

(I get a therapist, and find my way to being seen by a psychiatrist, which I guess is good but jesus is it $$$. Still figuring out how to use my stupid HSA)

People on floor 1 move out. They've got contractors in constantly renovating the place top to bottom. I get all their paint fumes.

Sound proofing doesn't exist, turns out. I hear my downstairs neighbors' conversations. I hear their tv. I hear street conversations. One night it was pouring rain and I was woken up by the sound of something banging against the house. Like genuinely banging. I go outside and investigate - it's a car idling with their windshield wipers going. Windshield wipers. Why would that be audible. Walls made of paper.

Floor 1 contactors leave the back door open one night. Luckily I wasn't storing anything in the back hall and had the door to my interior locked.

I receive my next month's heating bill. $689. I call the gas company and they shrug. I call the plumber and he shrugs. I turn the heat way down cuz I don't know. I dunno. Something's wrong with the boiler but it just got serviced so I dunno. I have to call someone else.

Speak of the devil, cones appear immediately outside my building declaring there's going to be gas line work. For a month. They start with the jackhammers at 8am every weekday. It's gonna be a month. I miss the windshield wipers.

We have a weekend of arctic freeze. -30F windchill. I go down to the basement Sunday morning to do laundry. Floor 1 contractors have outdone themselves by leaving a window open. Pipe had burst in floor 1 and was pouring water down into the basement, totally flooded.

I have to call the plumber, and flag the Floor 2 people about it and they at least find the master water shutoff. I'm dealing with the plumber and I have no water for half the day and no laundry for me.

I want to lie down in a marsh for a bit.

[madfantasy]

New 3 things that happened:

*I got my new ID, my id expired and to renew it I had to get photographed, and since I just opened my bank account a year ago it depends on it so already I was giving up on the idea to keep the account but by miracle a photographer agreed to picture us at home, and it turned to us cuz I wanted all my sibs to have theirs taken with me too and because I had to argue first time to get my ID forever, so i didn't have the energy to keep doing it for the rest of my sibs so now it was the chance. The day of the photographer coming I was shaking with fear and I thought I would never leave the bathroom gotten ill. I fear seeing people more than dyin so I don't know how I held it together, I literally don't remember how it went or how I did, but I recall my sibs looking the same as I felt but it was finally done. parents too taken their shoots and because one needed their passport renewed to renew their id, them alone costing 1k$ and the appointment was set 6 months ahead, we R now close to it anyway, and the thought of how we have to pay to exist some more costly made me think of my worthlessness and helplessness even more, making me ashamed of still living.

The thing that blinded me, me the first to be tested on lo

*my eye is better, I still see a dark spot looking in a certain direction, getting an eye mask surprisingly helped keeping my eyes less dry cuz they be the most when I wake up and I had the driest time before it got infected and swelled, and already I'm used to the spot and can ignore it..

*I'm still drawing, literally it's making me live love and laugh, I don't care about improving or drawing my best constantly, ai can get poisoned for all I care as it continues to dehumanise the whole point of art-- keeping humanity alive ( btw use glazing ❤️🖤)

I realised that I don't have any physical collection of my art & since I can't look at the screens forever just to browse, nd printing all my stuff isn't feasible, then I came across those mini albums Nd I got the idea to just print one sheet = 9 pics! They look good too for trashy quality, I love it 8' and yes, purple and silver is the 10% obsession to my 90% red and black pallets, thanks to remembering Freeza c'x

But as usual posting my drawings never cease to eat me alive with anxiety, but I think I'm slowly becoming indifferent to it, even if the thought of that no one actually sees my art but me, which is the main case cuz I am living in isolation and being drawing in secret till few recent years because of my conservative surroundings, I feel much calmer when I'm not seen and maybe it's self destructive in a way cuz to stay posting I need to be commissioned cuz net bill, but it became irrelevant cuz I accepted that i can't have the mental capacity to be a social media person or chase anything that I already knew I can't maintain, I had an art block for a year I almost believed that was it for my art drive and me cuz it my sanity— cuz burning out so bad. If my post has a description it was in my drafts for months cuz I plan for every piece I share, but if can't form words I allow myself to let it be captionless, I draw faster than I form words and that's why art is important to me on a personal level, it's my first way of express even if its indirect, the only bit of human Mani left to live in me to put through lines and paint splodges. Even if no one sees it, and to be honest with myself, have very weak chances of being seen on a level that benefits me financially, I'm on the other side of the world, never seen the sky beyond my schooling days, nonverbal irl and know that I can get taken advantage of easily in social manner because it either I don't get the social cues or can't say no..

I'm grateful that at least I got the chance to experience being in a loving nurturing fandom like Sev's that made me experience genuine human goodness and care I never thought possible, made me have some self worth, personality beyond a made for marriage caretaker, and allowed me to get art tools and clothing that I was never allowed or could afford, and many first time small life pleasures like perfumes, food and toys, even if I only recognise 5 or 10 of you dears now, by DP liking my posts- (I suck at remembering names sorry)

I'm also grateful to have a room after endless years of couch and house movings, I have a safe space to still be able to draw and be cool under an AC in this 50° weather..

I think realistically that's the best it can get having spent all my life trying to get anywhere but isolated, and nothing working. At least I'm indifferent and fine of being the caretaker of my disabled guardians and siblings, I need them as much as they need me, even if it caused me the same cycle of mental anguish and earth leavings hehe

Wish U all the ease and peace and yummy peas 🫶🏽

4 am, sleep deprived

[lovekz]

turn up friday

syn -> it’s rindou’s birthday, and you make sure he smiles at least twice today

warnings : slight angst to fluff, rindou is a birthday princess, ran is a travel model, a bit of dark humor, rindou and ran have a leopard gecko named freya, a bit suggestive

note : happy birthday to rindou! ts is so late and short tho i swear

-

the clock hit twelve, signaling the beginning of a new day.

a very special day.

it was now rindou’s birthday, and he was sitting at his kitchen counter.

in silence.

for the first time in years, rindou has gone into his birthday in an empty home.

no friends to come see him, no brother to smash five different cakes in his face.

nothing.

but him and his lizard.

freya, her name was.

it was a gift from him to ran for his birthday, but he gave it back when he would go overseas.

so freya was with him 90% of the time.

rindou sighed quietly in frustration, lifting himself to his feet and making his way to his room.

humming the tune to ‘happy birthday’ with freya’s fast little legs chasing behind.

before he could make it his doorbell rang about 5 times at once.

rindou pauses in his steps, before resting his hand on the floor.

freya climbs up his arm and rests on his shoulder.

he walks to the front door and opens it, eyes widening immediately.

“happy birthday!” you practically scream, holding dozens of bags.

and that was so you.

screaming when everyone was well into their beds asleep.

it only happened when you were really excited to see your boyfriend though.

rindou couldn’t even stop his smile.

“what are you doing out so late by yourself? come in.” rindou says, tugging you in.

not hard enough for freya to fly off his shoulder.

you place the bags down onto the counter, refusing to let rindou touch any of them.

it was his birthday, you didn’t mind doing the work for once.

“I can’t let you be by yourself in your birthday, honey. it’s bad enough you went into it by yourself.” you sighed, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

rindou’s heart swoons immediately at your words.

he knew you probably rushed over here to come greet him on his birthday.

“now let’s go to bed. we can open these tomorrow.” you insisted, taking freya from him and guiding him to his room.

he couldn’t wait to see what you had in store

-

and it was exactly how he wanted to spend it.

you make him breakfast first thing in the morning, pancakes and hashbrowns.

he wasn't a big breakfast person, but that was more than enough to give him a big smile for the day.

then the two of you sat on the couch, opening all of his gifts.

you got him new cologne, one of his favorite albums on a vinyl, a snack basket, and a new video game.

he also received other gifts from his friends and his brother in the form of text messages (and cashapp).

raaan sent $200 : srry i cant make it :( happy birthday you shit

shionneedsmoney sent $1.72 : treat urself 2 smth nice bday princess

izanakok sent $50 : ty for not kys, check ur emails (he pre-ordered the new spider-man 2 for him)

kakuchopp sent $2 : you can get the rest when i get paid, happy birthday rindou.

kakuchopp sent $98.23 : nvm js take my bank account i feel bad

rindou was happy from all the gifts he received from his friends, also receiving gifts in the mail and people dropping things off.

now the sun was getting ready to go down, and the two of you pushed the cushions together to create a big bed.

rindou was scrolling through netflix, trying to figure out what he wanted to watch while you ordered food.

you apologized for not being able to get him a cake, but he really didn't care.

you were right next to him in his arms, nothing else mattered.

unless you were offering yourself as the cake, in which he would never refuse that.

now the two of you were about ten minutes into peppermint, holding hands under the fluffy pink blanket you left here.

rindou goes to open his mouth to say something, but gets interrupted by a door being thrown open.

the front door.

"honey i'm home!" ran yelled, holding a pastel blue two tiered cake.

rindou shoots up out of his seat, eyes wide as he stares his brother down in shock.

freya gets scared from this, and ducks under your blanket and in between your hands.

rindou launches himself over the couch and ran immediately places the cake onto the table.

the brothers share a tight hug, rindou crying in his arms.

his big brother was here in the flesh, right in front of him, for his birthday.

kakucho and shion walk in, holding bags of food in their hands.

everyone frees their hands and gets up to hug him, even shion who was recording.

he truly felt blessed.

- bonus -

ran laid out the cakes that he bought with him, a cheeky grin on his face.

you giggled, standing next to him.

rindou was in the bathroom, getting ready for the photo shoot ran promised him.

“everybody grab one.” ran ordered quietly, grabbing the blue cake.

you grab the yellow one, kakucho grabs the green one, and shion grabs the red one.

rindou walks out of the bathroom, fixing the white shirt he had on with white suit pants.

rindou looks to his left, and ran is already smashing the blue cake into his face.

not hard enough to make it hurt though.

everyone follows behind, smashing cake into his face with big grins and cheeky giggles.

when you all finished, you screamed happy birthday at the top of your lungs.

rindou rolls his eyes, licking the icing off the corner of his lip. he should've anticipated this.

"okay lets do your photo shoot, and then clean up. drinks on me!" ran yells, holding a bottle of wrap & nephew and hennesy.

now that was rindou's type of party.

he can beat ran up later, right now it was his birthday and he was with his favorite people.

people who would do anything for him.

rindou's pics came out something like these -> link link link

[fhatbhabiee]

Peligro

Javier Gutiérrez x Reader

inspired by the song Peligro by Aventura

word count: 712

warnings: toxic!reader, money mooching!reader, toxic relationship, reader is referred to as the devil, angst, spanish dialect w english translations (no need for the SAP button), told from Javi's POV, divorce

note: i'm fully aware this is something 100% different from all the other stuff on here and i too know it won't be everyone's cup of tea. as i've said before- if you don't like it don't bite it. if you have a problem with this guess what i put as much as i could in the warnings so don't get mad at me bc you refuse to read them. but for those who do read it- i hope you enjoy 🤍

“Javier no se como me siento de tu esposa.” (Javier I don't know how I feel about your wife)

“Mama por favor…” (Mom please…)

“No puedes ver como te trata?” (Can you see how she treats you?)

I leaned back in my chair and let my mind wander. My mother had a point- you weren't the best girl I had been with but you were my wife. I love you.

— • —

I walked into the house, tossing my keys in the small bowl we kept by the door. You must've heard me because you came stomping into the entryway of the house.

“Where have you been?” you called out.

“My mom's house.”

“What about me Javi? What about your wife?”

I let out a small sigh and walked over to you, wrapping my arms around your waist.

“I'm sorry amor. She just wanted to catch up is all.”

“It's not like you don't see her almost every day.” you pulled away from me. “You're such a mama's boy.” you grabbed your purse and the keys to my car before walking out of the front door.

“Where are you going?” I called out as I chased after you. “Amor, wait. How about I take you shopping? To say I'm sorry for being gone all day.”

You stopped and looked over at me. “Really?” you said, eyes literally forming into dollar signs like they did in the cartoons.

“Yes amor. C'mon I'll drive, just tell me where to go.”

We spent hours in the stores, coming out with bags and bags of all the best things you wanted. Anything for my wife. But they were right- the devil does wear Prada. I know because she used my credit card.

That night we laid in bed together. You were asleep as I stayed awake, staring up at the ceiling. My mothers words rang through my ears along with everyone else's. You were dangerous- toxic, manipulative, and a cheater. After thinking about everything you've done to me for almost 3 years, I think love stopped being a reason to still be married to you.

— • —

The next morning I woke up, alone in bed. I got up and saw no sign of you anywhere. I opened your closet and saw that all your clothes and shoes were gone. I quickly ran downstairs and noticed my car keys were not in the bowl.

What else did you take?

I walked into my office and logged into my online bank account. It took a solid minute to log in but that's when I realized all my accounts were drained to zero. I walked back to my bedroom in search of my wallet but it was nowhere to be found. You had taken everything. Taken 3 years of my life, all my money and financial assets, my car-If you could you probably would have taken the house too.

I walked back downstairs, racking my mind with ideas on what the fuck to do, when I saw a stack of papers sitting on the kitchen island. Divorce papers with your wedding rings sitting on top of them. The bright yellow sticky note caught my attention more than anything though.

Me and my boyfriend will be out of the country. If you have any questions, call my attorney.

The word boyfriend hurt more than the divorce papers. I always suspected you of cheating but I thought it was just my imagination. Guess I was wrong.

— • —

“Is there anything else anyone would like to say before we finish here?” my lawyer asked.

“Can I say something?” I asked as I looked over at my now ex wife.

“Go ahead.” you said, leaning back in your seat.

“Que Diosito te mande castigo, que te hagan lo mismo y me pidas perdón. Así yo me rio en tu cara y celebro tu pena por esa traición.” (May God punish you, have him do the same you did to me and you ask me for forgiveness. That way I can laugh in your face and celebrate your embarrassment for that betrayal.)

You chuckled and sat up, leaning against the table. “Que lo sueñas Javier.” (Dream about it Javier.)

“Oh I will.” I got up and walked out of the room, never looking back again.

beta'd: @nerdieforpedro & @ilovepedro thank you ilysm 💕

divider: @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

[suzie-shooter]

Haven't done one of these for ages, but have a Screaming Meals commentary stream recap for the Formula E race on 13.01.24 with James and Clem.

J: Give them a taste of Kiwi!

[has a go at Clem for concentrating on the stream subs rather than the race] J: God knows what else I've missed in the time I've even just explained this point.

J: Oh God, someone's phoning me now, oh God I'm going to have to take this - improvise.

C: Da Costa's out. J: Oh well that's okay, he's not a client.

[on New Year] C: I'd be lying if I said I remembered much of it. J: Yeah I thought that might be the case.

C: Do you know what the biggest issue is right now? J: The…war, in… C: No, no, my tyre, on my car.

J: You really have to be careful when you're navigating crevices - Marcus has found that out the hard way.

J: If I was driving a Formula E car I'd be yawning too.

[on Clem's drive for next year] J: If you don't know then you're not looking hard enough are you.

C: I am doing ELMS and I'll be at the Daytona 24 in 2 weeks' time and so will my ever loyal acolyte James Blair.

J: What do you say to allegations that Moses came down with the tablets from the good Lord on the mountain faster than we have got the bank account paperwork back from Armstrong? I don't think Moses was up there for eighteen months.

J: God I really cock a shoulder when I do that.

[on Rick Armstrong] J: "If you aim high you can't shoot yourself in the foot" - he was talking about his girlfriend at the time.

C: Something we haven't told chat - I'm starting work in insurance, eh? J: Yeah that's true. Full on insurance agent. You heard it here first. […] All the heavy lifting's still going to be done by me, Clem's very much going to have a relationship management role. C: Which is great for me because that's pretty much all I'm good at. Chatting shit.

J: Qatar is sponsoring us? The government of Qatar. Our lives have changed Clem, we've got oil money! C: Yeah I wouldn't want to take their cash actually.

C: I always thought I'd be a great TV presenter. J: Technically that's what we're doing now. It's not far off. C: It's not exactly channel 4 but - J: No, it's better. Because we can say fuck.

J: Interesting storyline developing here, Cassidy's hanging out the back of Buemi. C: Don't know if you want to mention that on stream there. J: Well he's hanging right out the back of him, I mean look. C: Quite a graphic tale you're sort of describing.

J: He's getting his nose really tucked in to the rear end of Evans there […] this is the hottest thing happening on track right now, is Vergne hanging out the back of Evans, with Hughes looking to get involved […] trying to get up Mitch Evans. Who isn't trying to get up Mitch Evans, be realistic.

J: Maybe he wants Vergne to be hanging out the back of him. And then he'll just really open it up at the end.

J: It's a real sloppy rear end. C: Real sloppy. how's Jehan doing? J: Yeah he must be sort of running a sloppy rear end.

C: "Is James going to any ELMS races?" James is going to all of them. J: Pretty much all of them yeah. C: Who do you think's going to fucking be the entertainment factor behind the scenes? J: Yeah you know like endurance races are like long, you can't drive the whole thing. You're going to need some dicking around. We'll just be hanging out the back of the garage.

C: "What are your goals for this year?" - James. J: I really want to nail the guitar actually, hang on I was gonna share this earlier. [fetches guitar] C: Play Wonderwall.

C: Chasing Cars? J: Yes! C: I read the chat. J: Oh fuck off.

J: I think this is the G string.

J: I haven't done a lot of fingering in my time with my left hand […] I've got a lot of experience of strumming with my right hand.

J: Old Clemogio's a bit heavy in the eyelids. C: I've got to go and fucking - sort out my tyre.

[sadhours]

Wicked Sensation

part nineteen // billy hargrove x f!reader

find all chapters here

a/n: this is the end of the road :( next chapter is the last one. thank you all so much for reading!! I’ll be working to start up another series.

word count: 5.5k

warnings: 18+ minors dni, dirty sex like literally, p in v, neil but he’s not being the worst?!

tag list: @blue-eyed-lion @bbyhargrove @sweet-villain @actuallyspencerreid @trapistani @sierrahhh @likeanimagepassingby2

Billy has had what feels like the longest shift of his life. Twelve grueling hours of being under searingly hot engines. He’s learning a lot and earning even more but he sincerely fucking hates these long days. However, he’s offering to stay late more days than not. He’d saved up enough for a place but once you’d mentioned how you wanted a honeymoon, Billy took it upon himself to make that a reality. His bank account was looking nice meanwhile yours was draining almost as soon as you got paid. He wasn’t upset though, you were buying baby stuff and even though both he and Mary suggested you wait until after the baby shower to start buying stuff, he liked the excited look on your face as you showed him all the things you’d bought.

It’s late when he walks through the front door. You’re seated at the kitchen table, flipping through wedding magazines Mary brought home for you. The clock on the stove tells him it’s almost nine and the look on his face tells you the day he’s had. He’s covered in sweat and grease, his curls barely have any bounce to them as they stick to his neck and forehead and his eyes look exhausted. For some reason, the sight of him like this sets you aflame. You feel yourself getting very wet. And Billy can read you like an open book because he gives you a pointed look.

“I need to shower first,” he tells you seriously but his lips curl up as disappointment twists your features. “What? You want me to fuck you like this? All covered in fucking oil and god knows what else.”

You nod up at him, “You look so sexy.”

He shakes his head but steps closer to press his lips to yours. You deepen it instantly, sliding your tongue against his bottom lip until he opens his jaw slightly. Tongues clashing, you grab onto his dirty work shirt and moan softly. It lights something deep in Billy and he’s lifting you from the chair and setting you on the table. You don’t even care that your dad and Mary are awake. Maybe it’s the hormones but you want Billy so carnally in this moment you’re gonna let him fuck you on the kitchen table.

Your hands make quick work of his belt and zipping, pushing down his briefs and pants low enough for his cock to spring out. Billy groans into your mouth, his fingers pushing your nightgown up and pull your panties to the side. He presses his tip to your entrance and pushes in with ease, filling you to the brim in one swift thrust. You cry out but he silences it with his lips, hands digging into your hips while he drills into you. It’s so rushed and reckless, like if anyone walked in you two couldn’t physically stop. Your hands wrap around his neck, whimpering against his lips. With each thrust, he hits your g-spot so perfectly and repeatedly you’re already a goner.

He pulls his lips away to whisper in his ear, “Such a needy girl. You’ve been thinking about my cock filling you all day, haven’t you?”

“Y-yes,” you confess breathlessly, “want it all the time.”

Billy has to admit, with all the working he’s been doing he’s a little pent up so he’s not lasting very long. He grabs onto your hair and pulls it, tilting your head back so he can devour your throat with his tongue and teeth. You grip onto him tighter, gasping out without a care in the world about how loud you’re being. Billy rolls his hips into you even harder, his grip on your hair getting tighter as he chases his high. It grabs you first, though and you moan out his name as your hips rock up to meet his eager thrusts. Your orgasm ripples through you, your thighs shaking before your legs go limp. Billy grabs a hold of them, fingers digging into the back of your thighs as he holds them up. He gives another few hard thrusts before shooting his load into you. He stills completely, lowering his forehead to rest on your shoulder as he breaths hard. You giggle softly, wrapping your arms around his waist and turning your face slightly to kiss his dirty hair.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters before pulling away and stuffing himself back into his pants. “You need a shower now.”

You bite your lip as he slides your under back into place and helps you off the table. He laces your fingers and drags you to the bathroom where you share a very boring shower.

-

“He proposed how?” Eddie asks, eyebrows furrowed as he looks at Billy from across the room.

The baby shower was bigger than you thought it would be. Your dad invited every single one of his employees and they all showed up. You invited Eddie and Billy invited Max. But there were so many people here you barely knew. Mary even invited the majority of her coworkers. It was nice. Your eyes turn to follow Eddie’s, seeing as Billy sips his beer while talking to his coworkers.

“Well, the ring fell out of his pants when we were getting ready for bed and I saw it so he just did it then,” you shrug, “I’m sure he was planning some big gesture but I like how he did it. It was sweet.”

Eddie frowns, “He’s so different now.”

You know he means it as a compliment but you know this Billy has been in there all along. You’re just glad you were able to help coax it out of him. Billy was different without having to be under the dictatorship that was Neil but he was more like himself. He was patient, kind and incredibly loving. The biggest surprise was just how funny Billy is. He would have you bent over laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe. When he didn’t have to be so serious all the time, he had a great sense of humor.

“He’s himself now,” you correct Eddie.

He reaches over and squeezes your hand, “I’m happy for you. I mean it. You deserve this, all of it.”

“Thank you,” you beam, meeting his eyes. “Oh!” your eyes widen as you slide off your engagement ring and you hand it to Eddie. “Look how he engraved it.”

“Snoopy?!” Eddie let’s out a bellowing laugh before handing the ring back to you. “And you were embarrassed of those pajamas.”

“It’s still embarrassing,” you gush, “We may be getting married but I still want Billy to think I’m cool.”

“He obviously does, otherwise he wouldn’t be looking at you like that,” Eddie grins.

Your eyes raise back up to see Billy looking at you with stars in his eyes as he bites his lower lip. Your cheeks redden as you smile back and you see him walking over.

“Having fun, Eddie?” he asks, hands in his pockets.

Eddie nods enthusiastically, “Oh yeah, this is quite the rager. In fact, I frequent baby showers. They’re the best kinds of parties.”

“Well then,” Billy smirks up at you, “We’ll have to make a couple more so you can come to the parties.”

The idea that Billy wants more than one baby makes your stomach flip. You can just imagine him rocking cargo shorts and dad shoes.

“Give me two years after this one at least,” you say defensively.

“You excited to be maid of honor?” Billy directs his attention back to Eddie as he sits at the table with you two.

“Dude of honor, thank you very much,” Eddie bites back cheerfully.

“You wearing a dress?” Billy teases, pulling the beer he was holding up to his lips as he smirks over the rim of it.

“Don’t think I won’t,” Eddie mimics Billy’s smirk.

Mary interrupts by rushing over to tell you it’s time to open the gifts. She ushers you and Billy over to the couch where the presents are slowly presented to you. Mary takes photos of every gift, insisting Billy smiles as he hold them up. You turn to watch his face scrunch up in exaggerated delight as he holds up a box of diapers.

“You’re not gonna be making that face when you have to change ‘em,” you hear one of his coworkers call out.

Billy rolls his eyes as he sets the diapers back down but then his smile is back as Max walks over with a gift bag. He pulls the card out and opens it.

Billy,

This gift was hard to give because it’s the one thing I kept from your infancy. It was a reminder of the love your mother and I once shared and what a wonderful baby you were. You’re growing up and I wanted you to know I’m proud of you. I know you’ll be a great dad.

Love,

your dad.

Billy’s eyes immediately well up with tears and he wonders if his dad cried while writing that. Neil had never been so candid, he’d never once told Billy he was proud of him. He wouldn’t even bring up Billy’s mom. This… this was something else. He wipes his tears quickly, sniffling harshly as he hands you the card. He pulls out a second card and wonders if his dads playing a sick joke and this one will say Just kidding. Fuck you. but it doesn’t. This one is to you and him and it’s from Max and Susan. He reaches into the bag as pulls out some baby clothes. After you read the card, you’re leaning into Billy and pressing a kiss to his shoulder as you rub circles against his back. You’re crying, a lot more freely than he is. At the bottom of the bag, Billy feels the hard plastic and hears the sound before he sees the gift and immediately he knows what it is. He pulls it out, mouth agape slightly as he peers down at the ocean themed rattle. He recognizes it, he’d been pretty damn attached to it when he was a kid. He can’t believe his dad had kept it and had it tucked away all these years. He’s too floored by the rush of emotion to care about all the eyes in the room on him. He won’t let himself break down and sob, but he stays silent as he holds the toy in his hand. He didn’t know Neil had it in him to be so kind.

You press a kiss to his cheek, “That’s so sweet, Billy.”

“I know,” he says after clearing his throat and resting the rattle back into the bag before slapping his thighs, “Alright, what’s next?”

You let it go, knowing you’ll talk to him more in depth tonight. Max reaches forward and squeezes his shoulder before retreating. She knows Billy well enough to not dwell on this moment in front of everyone.

-

When you walk into the bedroom, you see Billy sitting against the headrest of your bed. He’s holding the rattle in his hands, turning it over while he looks at it. You sit next to him, placing a hand on his thigh as you wait for him to speak first.

“You think he regrets being a giant asshole my whole life?” Billy breathes out, not tearing his eyes away from the rattle.

“Probably,” you guess, “I’m sure he misses you being around. He’s probably had lots of time to think about how he treated you.”

Billy drops his hands, looking up at you with misty eyes, “I want to hate him so bad.”

“And you have every right to. But it’s complicated. Did you hold resentment for your mom after she left?”

He nods.

“Yet, you still love her dearly and you’ve justified why she left. It could be that while your dad was shitty to you, you still appreciate that he was there,” you offer, hoping it could help him. You didn’t exactly know how Billy was feeling but you know how you felt about your own situation with your parents.

Billy sighs, a tear breaking from his eyes and cascades down his cheek. He reaches for your hand and squeezes it, “I don’t want to be like him. I want to be a good dad.”

“You will be,” you promise, moving into his lap and raking your hands through his hair. “You don’t have to be like him.”

Billy rests his head against your chest, pulling you into a hug. You circle your arms around his neck and squeeze him tightly while you kiss the top of his head. “It’s not the best apology but maybe it’s way of doing it.”

“Yeah…” Billy sighs, “I just don’t know what to do about it.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” you tell him.

-

“Are we ready for something like this?” you ask as you walk down the hall, peering into empty rooms.

“Your dad said he’d co-sign,” Billy shrugs as he steps into the hallway bathroom and flicks the light switch on and off.

A mortgage seems like a big step into adulthood that you’re not sure you’re ready to take. You’re always overthinking things, though. You’ve imagined all the possibilities. All the things that could happen. Like what if you and Billy break up. Or what if you guys can’t afford to pay it and it horribly damages your credits for the rest of your lives. Billy seems to notice you’re panicking internally because he wraps his arm around your waist and looks down at you.

“You’re pregnant with my baby and we’re getting married in a week. The next logical step is buying a house,” he says and then thinks for a second, “Er, trailer.”

“I don’t even have a car yet. I’m still a kid,” you argue back.

“Yeah, we’ll work on the car thing,” he chuckles, “We may be young but we’re doing very adult things. We’ll be fine. We’ve got each other.”

“It’s three bedrooms,” you point out.

Billy rolls his eyes, “We ain’t stopping at one baby. We’ll need the room.”

You giggle and with that, he’s convinced you.

“Fine!” you gush, “Let’s do it.”

Billy grins as he leans you back and plants a big, sloppy kiss on your lips. The prospect of being so domestic with him has you buzzing. You grab hold of his jaw while you kiss back. He pulls back to nudge his nose with yours, “I’ll put in an offer. We can move in after the honeymoon.”

“Honeymoon?” you look up at him in disbelief. You’d thought it’d been out of the budget.

“Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that?” he leads you into the kitchen and leans against the empty cabinets.

“You did,” you reply, “How can we afford to buy a house and a honeymoon?”

Billy lifts you up and rests your ass on the counter, twirling a bit of your hair between his fingers while he looks up at you. Your heart swells with how much you love this man. He’s given you everything you could ever want and more.

“Why do you think I’ve been working twelve hour days? I wanna give you everything I can,” he murmurs, blue eyes scanning your face and focusing in on your lips.

“I wanna give you everything too,” you whisper, wrapping your legs around his waist and grabbing a hold of his t-shirt.

“Yeah?” he smirks, resting his hand on your thigh, “You can give me something right now.”

“In here?” your eyes widen.

“Why not? It’ll be ours,” he counters, hooking his fingers into your waistband.

He has a good point so you nod, leaning back so he can pull your leggings down to your ankles. He presses a bruising kiss to your lips as he starts to unzip his jeans. Once he’s got his cock in his hand, he drags his tip through your folds. Billy exhales at the sensation, your slick coating his throbbing head. It’s all so intoxicating and right. He taps it against clit a few times, eyes on yours intently as you whimper. You worry the realtor will show up randomly even though she canceled and gave Billy the key.

He reads your mind, seeing the uncertainty on your face and tells you, “Stop thinking. We’re alone.”

“Okay,” you breath out but it quickly turns into a moan as Billy slips inside your dripping hole.

He fills you completely, exhaling against your face as he does so and you can smell the minty gum he was chewing. You grab a hold of his shoulder, sinking back until your head rests against the cupboard. You’ll never get used to how big he is or the way your aching pussy grips him. You get excited, thinking about all the furniture you guys can fuck on in your new place and how you’re starting that now before it’s officially yours.

Billy’s lips are against your ear suddenly and you feel his breath on it as he whines, “Fuck, you’re so tight. I fucking love your pussy. All mine.”

You cry out when he bites your earlobe and starts thrusting into your eager core. The slow drag of his member against your walls is electric, sending shivers up your spine. He grabs hold of your thighs and scoots you a bit closer, angling your hips up so he reaches the spongy spot deep inside you.

“Billy,” you moan out, “Ugh, right there!”

He laughs lowly, almost sinisterly and it’s the sexiest sound to grace your ears. You love to fluff his ego, you want him to be so sure that he fucks you like no one else could and that you completely belong to him. It’s hot how arrogant he can be about it.

“Fuck, that’s so fucking good,” you groan out, eyes rolling back as his rhythm reaches the pace that’ll bring you over the edge.

“Yeah? You like that?” he grits out, “This pussy was made just for me.”

“Uh-huh,” you nod frantically, “all yours, Billy.”

“All mine,” he repeats, moving his hand so he can lick his thumb and press it against your clit, moving it in quick circles.

“Ugh, yes… I’m so close,” you warn him, hands tangling into the curls at the back of his head.

Billy groans lowly against your ear before encouraging you, “That’s it. Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my cock.”

You whine, closing your eyes as he lures you to the edge. He licks against your neck and you lose it, writhing on the counter as you reach your climax. He keeps whispering praises into your ear as you ride it out, prolonging the waves even further than normal. You don’t even notice he’s meeting you there until you feel him emptying inside you.

“Billy,” you pant softly, a few tears rolling down your cheeks. He wipes them away and kisses your lips gently before pulling away and dressing the two of you.

“Well, we’ve christened the house,” he jokes.

You smack him arm, “We have to buy it now.”

He chuckles as he helps you down of the counter, “Or we can keep looking and see how many empty houses I can fuck you in.”

“Very romantic,” you roll your eyes, lacing your fingers together so you can lead him out to the car.

-

Your wedding dress is just a tad snug but you can still walk in it so you think that’s a win. Max, Mary, your dad and Eddie sit on the bench while you stand on the pedestal. You’d wanted Billy to come with but Mary insisted it was horrible luck for him to see you in the dress before the wedding. You felt like you and Billy were too in love for any of those superstitions to affect you. However, at the same time you didn’t want to risk it.

“It’s a little tight,” you mention to the associate, “in the belly, obviously.”

Eddie snorts but when you turn to him to glare at him, he smiles wide, “You look great in it.”

“Could we just take it out a tiny bit here?” you ask the associate as you rub your stomach.

“Of course, we can,” she smiles at you, “We’ll be cutting time a little short, it won’t be ready until the morning of, though.

“That’s fine,” you say as you turn and look behind your shoulder to see the back of it. “You can pick it up, right, Eddie?”

“I’ll pick my dress up then too,” he teases, earning laughs from the room.

You roll your eyes as you turn back around. When the associate brings out the veil and places it on your head, Mary lets out a sob and you turn to see your dad also has tears in his eyes.

“Happy crying, I hope,” the associate mutters to you, “you look stunning.”

You hope Billy will agree. You beam at her before you turn back to the mirror, the reflection you see is almost a stranger. You’d never imagined you’d be getting married ever, let alone right before your nineteenth birthday.

“I can’t believe I’m getting married,” you say to yourself, eyes scanning over all the delicate, lace details on the dress.

“To Billy fucking Hargrove,” you hear from Eddie, it’s soft and copies your disbelief. It was quick, very quick. Hell, you’d known him barely over a year and now you’re making the commitment to spend the rest of your life with him. It feels a little scary until you imagine him standing next to you, in a suit and bowtie. Then it feels more exciting than anything.

-

Billy peers down at the invitation in his hand as he stands at the doorstep. He could turn around. He could run back into your dads house and continue his life without Neil in it. But the card he’d given Billy made him not want to. He’d always been there, always stayed by his dads side and picked up the broken pieces of their life. He knew his dad was an asshole, knew he treated him so unfairly for his entire childhood but he never abandoned Billy. So Billy couldn’t abandon him.

He knocks on the door, hoping that maybe Susan or Max would answer and he could just hand over the wedding invitation and leave. But he’s met with a familiar mustache and brooding blue eyes, wonders if his own look like that.

“Son,” Neil says, his tone stern with a hint of relief.

Billy keeps their eye contact, like he’s been taught to, like real men do. Though he struggles, always has. Wants to anywhere but his dad.

“I uh, wanted to give you this,” he says and extends the invitation out.

“Come in,” Neil says, the tone has changed but Billy’s still wary. He thinks of making an excuse, saying he’s got to work or you have an appointment but he doesn’t. He follows his dad inside, to the fridge where he grabs two beers and casually passes one to his son. As they walk into the living room, Billy notices his weight set is gone and a chair takes its place, probably paid for the chair. Billy won’t mention that he personally paid for the bench press. He hasn’t had time for working out anyways, doesn’t have much anger pent up anymore. He fears for a moment that he’s getting pudgy but his dad distracts him from the self criticism.

“Sit down.”

Billy obeys, sits on the new chair and cracks the beer open. His shoulders ache and he notices how much he’s tensed up by stepping into this house so he rolls them to get some relief and tells himself he’s fine, safe. Extending the invitation to his father, he relaxes a bit. There’s a peace offering in it.

Neil takes the envelope and opens it, pulling out the card stock with your name and Billy’s at the top.

“So, you’re gonna do the right thing and marry the girl,” Neil nods, “Good.”

“Yeah,” is all he says, wants to tell his dad how much he loves you and that’s why he’s marrying you, not just because he knocked you up. “It’s this Saturday. I probably should’ve brought this over sooner but you know, we’ve been busy. I just signed the papers for our house.”

“You bought a house?” Neil sounds surprised but proud.

Billy nods, “Well, it’s a trailer but yeah. Three bedrooms, two baths, it’s nice.”

“Expecting more kids already?”

“We want to,” he clears his throat, “Not right away but yeah.”

Neil sighs, looking down at the invitation, “Well congratulations. I’m glad you’re starting a family.”

“Thanks.”

Billy’s itching to leave and hates that he can’t just get along with his dad like most sons. Furious at his dad for making it feel like he can’t say what he’s feeling. Part of him wants to tell him thank you for sticking around but he knows Neil will tell him he had no choice. And Billy knows that’s true.

“We’ll be there,” Neil says and sips his beer, tossing the invitation on the coffee table. The air in the room is thick. They both want to say how they feel but it’s been beaten in both of them not to. Billy makes a silent promise to himself he won’t do that to his kids because this is brutal to sit through.

“Cool,” Billy nods and they sit in silence as they finish their beers. Billy figures he can leave now.

-

Squeezing into the wedding dress was like shoving a balloon into a sock. How your belly had grown so much in just one week you weren’t sure. It was a horrible way to start the morning. You felt bloated and tired. They’d taken the dress out but it seemed like they hadn’t. You should’ve insisted another inch or two. Mary assures you that doesn’t look like it’s squeezing you. Eddie walks into the room, already in his suit and he looks like a million bucks, he’s holding a packet of mini donuts from a convenience store.

“Jesus,” you breath out when you see him, “I have never in my life seen you look so grown up.”

He shoves a donut into his mouth, cheeks filling as he smiles around the bite. Once upon a time you thought you’d end up marrying him and seeing him in a suit gives you a tiny glimpse into that parallel universe and it’s not so bad, but you’re glad it’s not the one you’re in.

“Did you invite Harrington?” he asks once he’s swallowed, “I saw his placement on the table.”

“Billy insisted,” you admit, “think it’s part of that weird feud they have going on.”

He snorts, “Did you make him invite Stephanie?”

“We never got her RSVP,” you giggle and Mary rolls her eyes.

“Doing all these grown up things yet you’re acting like you’re still in high school,” she sighs.

“It’s healthy,” Eddie shrugs.

“Very healthy!” you agree.

“So how did the bachelor party go?” Eddie asks as he sits.

You laugh, hard. Billy had come home drunk but complaining that Tommy and Drew didn’t get along and that neither of them knew how to throw a proper bachelor party.

“No strippers then?” Eddie teases and shoves another donut in his mouth.

“I think they just got drunk at Drew’s apartment.”

“Real rager.”

“Totally.”

Your dad walks into the room, getting a look at you all done up for the first time. He grins wide, “My little girl. All grown up.”

“It’s about time, huh?” Eddie shoves your shoulder playfully.

Your eyes always hurt after spending time with Eddie, constantly rolling them.

“Speaking of,” Mary rips the donuts from Eddie’s hands, “You need to be heading down the aisle.”

“Yay, I get to walk with Tommy,” he mumbles sarcastically. “Think I might get lucky,” he winks at you.

“Carol’s watching,” you call after him as he exits the room.

Mary stands at the door as watches, then she’s turning back to you and your dad.

“It’s time!” she squeals.

You link arms with your dad after he fixes your veil. The butterflies in your stomach rave, more present than they’ve been all day. It’s happening. You’re about walk down the aisle to Billy. You feel like you might puke so you take a deep breath. The piano sounds cue you and your dads feet, walking through the doors until the beginning of the aisle. Immediately, your eyes meet with Billy’s ocean blue ones. The threat of vomiting immediately ceases. He’s never looked more handsome than he does in this moment. His suit hugs him perfectly, the blue tie matching his eyes. His curls. They’re so perfect, pretty blonde coils styled more intently than ever. He takes your breath away. It’s as if you’re the only two people in the church. You can’t even feel all the eyes on you as every head in the pews turn to you. The walk feels like it takes forever, you want to run to him.

When you finally get there, you see the tears in his eyes and he shyly says, “Hi.”

“Hi,” you repeat and it’s met with a roar of laughter. For a moment you feel like you’re in a tv show and you’re reminded there’s about 100 eyeballs on you.

Billy takes your hands in his, grounding you. It’s easy for the rest of the ceremony as you look into his eyes. He somehow expresses silently to you that this is just between you and him. You could’ve done this simple and just as sweet at the courthouse but Mary loved planning this big event.

You recite your vows, Mary had helped you write them because you had no idea what you were supposed to say. The first wedding you attended was your own. Billy recites his and they’re simple but beautiful. They make you cry. He reaches up the year streaming down your cheek and the audience collectively ‘aws’ and you feel like you’re right back in that tv show.

When you kiss, you feel a whole lot lighter. Billy’s lips are soft and pliable. He’s your husband now. You’re kissing your husband. He cups your cheeks with his hands, smiling into it before slipping his tongue past your lips. Again, you’re reminded of the audience by the whooping.

-

Billy can dance. You watch with wide eyes as he two-steps with none other than Steve Harrington. They have drunk smiles and flushed cheeks. You feel warm inside, dandelions sprouting in your belly. You and Steve made a mistake but he was a really good friend, you’d wanted to show Billy that. Open Billy up to people who would care for him.

“That’s a sight for sore eyes,” Mary says to you, nudging your shoulder. She can see the smile stretching your face. Everyone in the room can see it.

When Billy locks hands with Robin and sways away with her, you take the opportunity to swoop in on Steve. He looks surprised, but happy. He holds onto your hand and awkwardly moves side to side with you. It seems Billy was doing all the work.

“Thanks for coming,” you say to him, watching as his chestnut hair flops with each step.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he beams, “Seriously, congratulations.”

“It’s weird, though, right?”

“Oh, other dimension weird,” he agrees, “That’s life.” Steve shrugs on the last word.

“He’s nice,” you feel the need to say. “Better than nice.”

“He’s not half bad,” Steve says but his eyes look past your shoulder and you feel strong hands on your waist, pulling you back from Steve’s grip.

Blonde curls tickle your jaw as your husband rests his chin on your shoulder, his eyes locked on Steve’s.

“Mind if I steal her? She’s my wife, after all,” Billy shoots him a toothy grin and the declaration sends tingles through you.

Steve raises his hands, “Hey, she’s all yours.”

Billy turns you, looking right into your eyes with a dreamy bite of his lip. You hook your arms around his neck and press your hips to his. He moves his hands up your back and shamelessly says, “Can’t fucking wait to get this dress off of you.”

“I’d be happy to leave right now,” you chide, hooking a blonde curl with your finger.

Billy purses his lips, “We could just find a broom closet or something.”

“Hmm, romantic,” you roll your eyes but you’d definitely do it. “Where are we going?”

“Oh you mean the honeymoon? It’s a secret, tonight we crash at our new place,” he tells you nonchalantly.

“On the floor?”

“What do you think I’ve been doing this week? Got us a much bigger bed,” he grins, nudging his nose into yours.

You tilt your head, “Think they’ll all notice if we leave right now?”

Billy lets out a deep, throaty laugh. He squeezes your hips, “This whole shindig is kinda for us. Yeah, they’d notice.”

“I don’t really care if they do,” you admit and that’s all it takes to convince Billy. It’s late anyways. He’s pulling you out the doors before anyone can make a peep.

[flowerpotmage]

Tight Grip, Broken Dam (14)

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You don’t question it anymore, when Miguel appears in your bed at night. He’s not there for sex, no, you’ve never even kissed—though you would be lying if you said you weren’t open to the idea of kissing him. He’s there for comfort. For rest. If only it could stay so simple.

Pair: Miguel O'Hara & GN!Reader

Notes: for chapter: sex dreams, soup, superheroing (now with less peril!)

Word Count: 3.3k

Read this chapter on Ao3 here. If you like my work, please consider leaving kudos there as well! You do not need an account to do so.

Dr. Parker approves your return to Spidering on a Wednesday.

You’re practically buzzing when he does, having been crawling out of your skin stuck in a cycle of gyms and training courses and mundane work for the paper. It doesn’t help that the latest news stories have all been about your disappearance, and have now moved on to theorizing over the likelihood of your death.

You can’t remember the last time it felt so good to put on your suit.

Your body cuts through the crisp night air as you swing through tall city buildings. You stop a mugging, a purse thief (who even does that anymore?), an attempted robbery, and a potential car accident. People cheer and gasp when they see you swing by, hands scrambling for phones to take photos and videos.

It’s a busy night. Petty criminals emboldened by your previous absence act with a particular fearlessness you haven’t seen since the early days, and you bounce from place to place like a video game character chasing quest markers, your path chaotic and messy.

You stop to rest for just a moment on top of a bank and let the sounds of the city roll over you.

Your watch pings: it’s Miguel.

“Hi,” you answer, beaming under your mask at the little bust of him floating above your wrist.

“Back on the streets?”

“More like rooftops,” you joke, lifting your mask so he can see your face. He smiles when your own grin comes into view. “Doctor Parker gave me the all clear.”

“Right,” he says, pausing hesitantly. “How is it?”

Your grin slides into a much softer smile. “It’s going great. I’ve already helped a lot of people tonight.” You pause. “They weren’t sure if I was… still around.”

He nods, understanding.

Sirens call you from a few blocks over, your head jerking up to track their distance. You look back down at your watch.

“I should go get that,” you say, smiling apologetically as you turn and start walking across the rooftop. “Will you… will you be at the apartment tonight?”

“Do you want me to be?”

You pause. Of course you do. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He smiles, half a smirk. “You just want someone to have dinner ready for you when you get home.”

You laugh, pulling your mask down. “I’ll see you later.”

He chuckles, ends the call, and you jump out into the open air over the street.

You’re all over the news the next day. Headlines of City Spider Lives! and Spider Returns and other such variations dot the papers and fill screens. You even trend on TikTok.

Gwen arrives around noon to borrow your washing machine and catch up, when you’re on your couch doing research for your next piece for The Bulletin. The temperature has been dropping, so the balcony doors are closed and you have a blanket across your lap, dressed in one of Miguel’s overnight shirts and a pair of sweatpants.

“Whose shirt is that?” she asks, greetings exchanged, and piling her things into the washing machine.

You blink, looking down at yourself, and glance over the back of the couch into the hallway. Your fingers run over one of the folds over your stomach, the fabric soft and warm. “Uh.”

Gwen turns to look at you with a raised eyebrow, a cheeky grin in place.

“None of your business,” you say, turning back to the laptop balanced on your thighs, legs stretched out like a bridge to the coffee table.

You hear the lid of the machine close, the clicks and beeps that announce it turning on. Gwen swings over the back of the couch to land next to you, graceful as ever.

“So I guess the pair of plates on the dish rack are none of my business too?”

You shoot her a halfhearted warning glare and she holds her hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright,” she says, dropping her hands into her lap. “I’ll leave it alone, but I want you to know I’m happy for you.”

You grumble something noncommittal, face warming. Miguel had been in your apartment again last night—you’re struggling to clearly remember just when the last night without him was—and had stayed for breakfast this morning.

You had cooked for him, for once. Pancakes, with fruit.

“Is this all you know how to cook?” he teased. “Why am I not surprised?”

“I know how to cook other stuff,” you laughed, and turned to look at him.

Your usual positions were reversed, you at the stove and Miguel seated on the other side of the counter that divided the kitchen from the living room. He smiled at you, forearms folded on the counter as he watched you.

“Cereal doesn’t count.”

“Oh, shut it,” you said and turned back to the stove, pretending that your skin wasn’t tingling under his gaze.

“Whatcha working on?” Gwen asks, pulling you back to the present.

“Some filler piece on an animal shelter,” you say. “I’ll get something better soon, now that I’m not ‘sick.’” You lift a hand to draw quotes in the air around the word.

“Hm.”

And you do, when you go into The Bulletin later that afternoon. Ellison delightedly informs you that he’s acquired press passes for an event celebrating donors to the city’s oldest art museum, and even gotten you a plus one.

“That’s pretty big,” you say. “But not normally enough to get you this excited.”

It’s true. Ellison, normally friendly, albeit marginally stressed on nearly every occasion you’ve seen him, is practically bouncing on his feet as he grins.

“Well, the Spider is back.”

“I’m not–”

“I’m not trying to get you to cover the Spider, calm down,” he says. “Karen’s taking it.”

Shit.

Your lungs freeze for a moment. It would be one thing for a colleague to cover your after-hours life, but one you’ve befriended?

“Karen, huh?”

Ellison nods. “We’ve gone long enough without a reporter on this. She’s had success with other vigilante characters before. Daredevil, Punisher. Spider’s probably the safest of the lot she’ll ever meet.���

“Can’t argue there,” you say, half mumbling, mind already racing through how you’ll manage to keep Karen in the dark, because you know with her tenacity she’ll corner the Spider sooner or later.

Miguel slips into your apartment through the balcony. It’s late, so he figures you’re probably asleep—which is why he’s opted to portal to your rooftop and scale down the building for the quiet, mundane entry instead of the far more obtrusive route of portaling straight to your living room. Of course, he could just sleep in his own home, but…

The sliding glass door clicks shut under his hand, white noise of the city now shut out. Turning, he scans over your living room—laptop dark on your kitchen counter, couch blanket unfolded and laying haphazardly on the cushions.

You’re working more again. That’s good.

He turns to your bedroom door, cracked open as if inviting him in, and opens it slowly. His caution is rewarded; you lay there, sleeping, the back of your head the only part of you visible from under the small hill of blankets.

The sight warms his chest, sparking his smile to life.

Miguel’s shirt isn’t on the chair where he left it, so he goes into your closet to get one of the others that had found their way to your apartment and stayed there. He changes there, in your room. He knows you won’t wake if you haven’t already, and so there’s no worry of you catching him stripping from his suit at the foot of your bed.

Not that he would mind you seeing, he realizes with a start. Not just as a fantasy, but really, actually seeing him like this, here, in this moment.

He swallows; turns his head to look at you as he holds his shirt in his hands.

Deep asleep.

Even with this revelation—of fantasy versus reality and the way it sends his mind spinning—his whole being softens at the relaxed expression of your sleeping face, the soft sound of your deep breaths.

He slips on his shirt, his pajama bottoms, and walks around to his side of the bed. Lifting the cover, he slides in beside you. There’s a pause, where he wrestles with the impulse to kiss your face or your hand on the pillow, and instead of pulling you close to his chest under his arm he rolls over to lay on his back and stare at the ceiling.

Sleep comes, eventually.

“Miguel,” you whisper. “Fuck, please–”

You’re under him, face turned to the side on your pillow as he kisses your shoulders, your spine.

“Okay, okay cariño. I’ve got you.”

He lifts himself up on his hands above you, a hand planted on the mattress by your waist and the other finding its place on your skin, sliding across hips that roll and shift against the mattress, searching for any of what he’s denied you thus far.

“Lift for me, sweetheart. There you go,” he praises when you arch your back for him, lifting your hips to give him access.

You’ve been moaning and whining so quietly this whole time, the sounds sweet as sugar and rushing straight to his cock, making his mouth water.

“Miguel,” you plead. “Please…”

“I know, I know mi vida,” he soothes, stroking himself and sliding against your opening. “I’ve got you.”

When he slides in it's so fucking perfect that he can’t help but groan, the sound deep and straight from his soul.

And then, in a change that only makes sense in dreams, you’re above him, pulling his hair back and riding him as you lick his neck. His hands grip your hips, and—

Miguel wakes, skin hot and a weight on his chest: you’ve cuddled up to him at some point in your sleep, a leg hooked around his, dangerously close to–

Mierda.

It's not even dawn yet, going by the lighting and the clock on your bedside table.

He’s had dreams about you before, of course, but this… He closes his eyes, willing the ache between his legs away, using all of his will to not shift his legs wider to provide room and relief. Shocking hell though, it’d be easier to calm down, for his racing heart to slow, if you weren't right there—

Your arm around his middle tightens, then loosens, an unconscious hum escaping your throat.

That’s it. He needs to get out of here. It’s not easy, disentangling himself from your sleeping body without waking you, but somehow he does it, his hardness finally giving up and softening.

It comes back later though, after he’s made you breakfast and left and is in the shower in his own home, the dream rising unbidden behind his eyes. He indulges in the images, brow furrowed and panting softly as he wraps his hand around himself and lets the images in his head play through past the moment he woke.

“Shit, shit!”

You scramble from the couch to the stove, where the lid on a pot of soup is starting to rattle as the contents inside boil over. You turn down the heat, remove the lid, and stir the contents—slowly, slowly it simmers down.

You’re making soup for Miguel, a surprise to prove his teasing remarks wrong. You've dug out an old recipe from your aunt, one she got from your grandmother that you’ve been told your mom loved growing up. It's something you make every fall when the air starts to get that little bit of bite to it—and you think Miguel will like it too.

The soup is saved, thankfully. You ladle the steaming hot contents into a tupperware after changing—Spider suit under your clothes, a comfortable shirt and loose jacket—package the two containers into an old tote bag with napkins and spoons and then portal to HQ.

It’s gray in Miguel’s dimension, the skies overcast and disproportionately bright: the sort of overcast that hurts your eyes more than a clear sunny day, the sun behind the clouds turning the sheet of gray into cold diffused light. Even the climate-controlled space that hosts Miguel’s Spider Society has a hint of the chill from outside—far easier to keep the building cool at this altitude than to heat it, apparently.

Soup was the right call.

You make your way through the weaving beams and paths, swinging through the open space on your webs before landing at the entrance to Miguel’s lab.

“Whatcha got in there?” Lyla pops up, eye level with yours.

“Soup.” You raise an eyebrow, a hint of a smile on the corner of your lips.

“Sure hope you didn't spill any on your way in,” she teases, flickering from one spot to the next to remain in front of you as you walk further into the dark hall, circling a pointed finger at you. “With all that web-slinging.”

“Of course not. I used the good tupperware.”

Miguel isn't at his multi screen platform this time, but in one of the side nooks, working on something you can't see on an old-school tablet.

“Guess who's here!” Lyla pops up near Miguel’s hunched frame.

Miguel lifts his head to look at Lyla, then straightens in his seat as he turns to look at you over his shoulder, creased eyebrows relaxing into something softer, more open.

“Hi,” you say, unable to help the smile that spreads on your lips as he turns to face you more fully.

“Hello,” he says, then raises an eyebrow, nodding at the tote bag on your shoulder. “What’s in the bag?”

You shrug the bag off your shoulder and walk forward to join him at the workbench. “Whatcha working on?”

He hums, turning to continue facing you as you walk closer and come to a stop next to his seat. “I see. Information for information, huh?”

You chuckle. “Soup,” you say, pulling the containers out and answering his earlier question, turning to look at him.

He’s smiling at you, still seated in his chair, and your stomach flips. An image flashes through your mind, so fast it almost unbalances you; Miguel wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in for a one-armed hug, leaning his head against you in a moment of pure, warm affection, and you kissing the top of his head. Nothing far from what occurs in your home, or your bed at night, but… never here.

Miguel turns to look at the soup you’ve placed on his workbench, the clear lids steamed opaque by the food inside.

“You made this?”

“Contrary to your very firm opinion, I can make food other than cereal.” You nudge his shoulder, pushing gently with your hand. “Family recipe.”

Miguel looks at you again, pushing his tablet aside. “I should get another chair in here.”

“What, just for me?”

He hums in affirmative as you take a seat on the workbench, pulling out two spoons and the napkins you packed.

Your face heats, cracking open the lid on your meal as Miguel cracks open the lid on his.

You nudge his arm with your knee. “Your turn. What are you working on?”

Miguel raises an eyebrow at you, lifting a spoonful of soup to his mouth. He gives a surprised hum. “This is good.”

You shake your head, smile only somewhat rueful at his avoidance of your question. “I told you I can make food other than cereal.” You look down at your own container, held in one hand as you perch on his workbench. “It’s a family recipe.”

It’s Miguel’s turn to nudge your leg with his arm. “Thank you for bringing it.”

“Of course. You’re terrible at feeding yourself at work, so…” You trail off with a teasing shrug, laughing when he nudges your leg again, this time in playful indignation, and devolving into laughter when he raises a serious eyebrow. “What!”

He places the soup down on the bench, standing up and leaning over you, saying your name in playful warning. “You didn’t even have groceries in your fridge before me.”

Your face flushes, heat zinging from your crown and your toes to meet in your stomach. The laughter bubbles to a stop in your throat as Miguel towers over your seat on the workbench surface.

You swallow. “Two things can be true at once.”

His eyes flick between yours. Everything freezes, even your breaths, and you try not to blink for fear of losing the fragile moment—whatever it might be—and then Miguel lowers his eyes, a swift downward stroke past your lips, and steps to the side to sit on the bench next to you.

“Alright, alright,” he says. “You make a fair point.”

You’re glad he doesn’t have super hearing, because your heart is thundering as you zero in on your little thing of soup to ground yourself. Miguel is equally silent for an extended moment—did he feel it too?—and when your racing pulse has slowed but the heat lingers in your face, he speaks again.

“How’s work?”

“I’m finally getting good assignments again,” you say, taking a small spoonful of your soup. “I get to go to a gala, write about all the big wigs and how much money they raise for whatever charity.”

“I’d like to read your work sometime,” he says, between his own spoonfuls. “If you don’t mind.”

You look over at him. He looks at you.

“Sure.”

Miguel smiles.

It’s easy to slip back into old routines. When you’re not working from home then you’re out as Spider, and when you’re not doing either of those things you’re wrapped up in bed and sleeping your long days away.

Miguel has to return to old routines as well, long days and nights at HQ and as the Spider-Man of his dimension. Even on the nights you don’t see him you know he visits, the bed warm when you wake up and food on the stove waiting for you.

Tonight, a week into your return, you’re out in the city once again. It’s a slow night, the air cold and crisp with the impending change of seasons. Bikers rumble past on the street below, one last ride before the weather changes too and leaves the streets too slippery, too dangerous.

You have your mask pulled up over your nose, exposing just enough to eat the hot slice of pizza bought with cash from a small spot near Hell’s Kitchen. A small thud behind you has you dropping the last few bites and pulling down your mask, spinning to face your surprise guest.

He stands there, every inch covered in deep red body armor, even his eyes hidden behind glassy red lenses that shine back a funhouse mirror reflection of yourself. The shade of red he wears is just this side of too warm to be reminiscent of blood and instead calls to mind rust and flames. Every angle of his body is tense, straight, lines culminating in two small points on the fore of his helmet-mask: the horns of the devil.

You watch as his head tilts slightly, chin tipped down as if lifting his ears.

Then you speak, uncomfortable with the silence of waiting.

“Daredevil.”

The reaction is instant, his head lifting and tilting like a dog who’s just heard an animal outside.

“Spider. Welcome back.”

You narrow your eyes under your mask, examining his changed posture: more confident, just a degree more relaxed, disarmed.

“Thank you.”

Silence falls again, the space between you interrupted by the low whistle and whoosh of a cold breeze.

“Am I on your turf?” you ask, just a shade apprehensive, joking to ease the strangeness of this encounter.

That almost earns you a chuckle, and certainly earns you a grin. “No. You’re more than welcome here.”

“Hm.” You smile under your mask, tilting your head as you drag your eyes over him. “Thank you. Cool suit.”

His grin remains, spreading wider. “Thank you.” A pause, a gesture of his hand towards you. “Yours too.”

The silence lingers again, the both of you sizing one another up in a new way.

“I should…” You point your thumb over your shoulder.

Daredevil nods.

“Nice to meet you,” you offer, shooting a web off to the taller building across the street. He gives another nod, and you're gone.

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