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#and if your employee won’t protect you
ikea-doona · 1 year
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drives me crazy when casual employers act like they’re beholden to treat their employees badly even when they ✨don’t want to✨ esp when it’s an under-the-table type situation
like “ooh i can’t deny them work even though i’m the one cancelling on them, so i’ll bend over backwards to make sure they still do the same number of hours” …..or you could. idk. pay them their promised hours and give them the day off anyway on public holidays or if you cancel last-minute
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augustinewrites · 6 months
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your apartment fills with the mouthwatering scents of buckwheat and dashi as you begin to unpack the takeout that's just been delivered. but even with your stomach already growling, you pause, confused.
“kento?” you call to where he’s is leaning against the counter.
“yes, love?”
you count the boxes again, frowning. “why did you order three? is one for your other girlfriend?”
“of course not,” he replies, unfazed by your teasing accusation as he continues to scroll through his tablet. “she doesn't like soba.”
you throw a napkin in his direction when your see the small smirk curling on his lips, shutting off his tablet to look over at you.
you wait, watching him expectantly.
"it's…for yuuji.”
“ah,” you realize, unable to keep from smiling. “your protégé.”
“he’s more like my intern,” he corrects, taking two plates from the cabinet.
you grab a third, following him to the dining table to help him set up. “you fired your last intern because you didn’t like how he organized your files. yet this one is sukuna’s vessel, and you’re bringing him soba.”
nanami pulls out your chair, kissing the top of your head before settling in his own seat. "you don't approve."
"it's not about that. if you say he's not dangerous, of course i believe you.”
he looks at you for a moment, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he figures out what to say.
“i just…don’t want him to feel so alone,” he says softly. “you heard about what happened at the detention center. gojo’s trying to hide him from the higher-ups right now, but we don’t know how long that’ll last. he’s just a kid, and gojo’s has a lot going on. so i— i want to look out for him.”
he glances over at the takeout bag, where the third box is sitting. “i may not be able to protect him like gojo can, but i can at least make sure he’s eating.”
you know he’s been exhausted lately. you can see it in the lines on his face and the slight sag of his shoulders when he trudges home at the end of the day.
yet he still finds time to care for a student that’s not his own.
and oh, if that did not make your heart skip a beat, knowing you were loved by a man capable of such care. you can’t help but watch him, almost unable to wrap your head around how lucky you are.
“you’re staring, dear.”
you sigh loudly, rising from your seat to wrap your arms around his shoulders, kissing his cheek. “i think my heart might burst if i find another reason to love you more than i already do.”
he takes your hand, pressing his lips to your engagement ring.
“you love me plenty already. which is why you’ve already set a third plate out to invite yuuji to eat with us, correct?”
_____
“and then nanamin charged in and chopped it up just like this—”
nanami watches you watch yuuji swing a single chopstick menacingly as he recounts their last mission.
“he just charged in, hm?” you ask calmly. “yuuji, you’ll tell me if my fiancé is being reckless, won’t you?”
“yes ma’am!”
the blond sits up, clearing his throat. “surely that’s not necessary.”
“he’s so stubborn, isn’t he?” you ask the boy sitting across from you, even rolling your eyes.
“sure is! he’s pretty bossy too.”
nanami’s scoffs as if he’s annoyed, but secretly…secretly he couldn’t be more pleased.
he’s always wanted to be a lot of things in his life. a good sorcerer, a good employee. a good man.
but all of those things he thought he needed to be to live a full life are irrelevant.
because nothing is more fufilling than being needed and being loved.
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daloy-politsey · 1 year
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“They’re trying to discharge her constructively. Do you know what Constructive Discharge means?” She asked.
As soon as I heard the term ‘Constructive Discharge,’ I knew I’d never seen it on a vocabulary quiz.
“No. What does it mean?” I asked.
She explained.
“Constructive discharge is a fancy way of saying “being forced out.” It’s not good. And if you’re not a lawyer or in human resources, you’ll probably learn what it means when it’s happening to you.”
“Oh my God. I’ve seen this my entire career and never knew it even had a name.” I thought.
You’ve seen constructive Discharge too. You may have experienced it. We’ve all made choices to avoid it.
Constructive discharge defined
“We can’t fire you, but we’ll make you so miserable you’ll quit, and then we won’t have to pay your unemployment.”
Then there’s the textbook definition:
“A constructive discharge occurs when your employer has made working conditions unbearable, forcing you to resign.”
Or as one person put it.
“I didn’t get handed a pink slip, but when you’re not wanted, people have a way of letting you know.”
HR isn’t always the secret police.
Employees aren’t always victims of evil-doers.
However, employers push employees out all the time to maintain and protect the, “We didn’t do anything wrong, YOU did,” power structure.
Constructive Discharge looks like this:
— Meeting invitations slow to a trickle, and you’re excluded from emails and generally looped out of what’s going on.
— People stop talking to you or stop talking when you walk in.
— Your emails don’t get answers, or they arrive too late to be of value.
— Suddenly, your work is not good enough, though nothing about your work has changed.
— Reviews, once good or even glowing, are now mediocre or bad.
— Instead of a bonus, you get a Performance Improvement Plan.
— Warnings and write-ups start so they can justify your eventual termination with documentation of your “poor performance”
— Your work, clients, assignments go away, or they overwhelm you with work.
— The words “Set up to fail” were practically invented to describe this scenario.
Constructive Discharge is illegal
It isn’t easy to prove you’re a target, and it’s even more challenging if you don’t even know constructive discharge is a real thing.
If you’ve ever experienced this and don’t fully understand what’s happening to you beyond knowing you’re in the process of being excommunicated, it can be hell. It’s not uncommon for the experience to leave long-lasting scars.
Talk to anyone who’s ever been through it. They’ll tell you.
Knowing constructive discharge exists and how it’s used gives you power to predict what’s coming and to protect yourself.
Seeing the endgame helps you in two ways.
You know what to expect. Having a sense of what’s coming next is enormously empowering. You can go on the offensive and protect yourself. Constructive discharge works to crush your ego, making you feel you did something wrong and deserve this treatment.
Without strategy, you end up being a miserable pawn in your employer’s endgame.
Remember, they’re almost certainly building a case to fire you in the event the hellscape they create for you doesn’t persuade you to quit.
If you’re getting pushed out, and you know what to look for you can prove constructive discharge and you can get unemployment benefits, be released from payback obligations on a signing bonus, and protect your mental health.
You’re not crazy, incompetent, or a failure. This is real and it’s carefully executed to leave you holding the bag and feeling like you did something wrong.
If they force you out, in addition to feeling horrible, you lose your paycheck, benefits health insurance, and possibly owe them money.
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pucksandpower · 22 days
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Man’s World
Charles Leclerc x Ferrari engineer!Reader
Summary: Charles refuses to just stand by and watch as you get disrespected
Warnings: misogyny and lewd comments
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You’re admiring the sleek lines of the red Ferrari F8 Tributo in front of you, running your fingers lightly over the glossy paint. The showroom is quiet this early in the morning, just a few employees milling about getting ready for the day.
Charles had to stop by to sign some merchandise for a charity event and asked if you wanted to tag along. You opted to wait out front and enjoy the eye candy while he took care of business.
You circle around to the back of the car, appreciating the aggressive styling and massive rear diffuser. As an engineer for Scuderia Ferrari who often extends your expertise to working on their road cars, you know every detail of this machine intimately. Your hands itch to pop the hood and inspect that glorious twin-turbo V8, but you resist.
This isn’t your workshop back in Maranello.
Lost in thought, you don’t notice the group of guys entering the showroom until one whistles loudly. “Hey baby, those legs look good enough to wrap around me real tight,” one calls out.
You freeze, feeling your heart rate pick up.
“Don’t be shy, we just want to get to know you better,” another says as they swagger over.
You press back against the car, sizing up the situation. Four of them, all clearly well-off based on the expensive watches and designer clothes. But their eyes are cruel as they look you up and down.
“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?” The apparent ringleader asks. “Hoping to sink your claws into some rich guy and take him for all he’s worth?” The others laugh nastily.
You lift your chin. “Actually, I happen to work for Ferrari.”
The man snorts in disbelief. “Yeah right, and I’m Michael Schumacher. There’s no way a woman knows anything about these cars other than where the passenger seat is.”
You clench your fists, biting back a scathing retort. The thought of educating these misogynistic jerks gives you immense satisfaction, but you know it won’t do any good. They’ll never change their prejudiced attitudes.
“Don’t listen to him, darling,” one says, giving you a lecherous look. “I’d be happy to take you for a ride, show you how a real man handles power between his legs.”
You’re about to tell him exactly where he can shove his stereotypes when a familiar voice interrupts sharply.
“That’s enough.”
You look over to see Charles striding angrily toward you, green eyes blazing. The men surrounding you look irritated at having their fun spoiled.
“Can we help you with something, pal?” The ringleader asks sarcastically.
Charles ignores him, coming to stand protectively beside you. “Are you okay, mon amour?” He asks under his breath.
You nod, relief washing over you now that he’s here. “I’m fine.”
Charles turns an icy stare on the men who’d been harassing you. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t speak to my girlfriend that way,” he says coldly.
The leader looks Charles up and down dismissively. But then a spark of recognition crosses his face. “Wait a minute … you’re Charles Leclerc!” He elbows his friends. “The Formula 1 driver!”
The others’ eyes widen as they take in Charles with new understanding. “Whoa, seriously?” One exclaims.
The leader chuckles, clearly trying to recover his bravado. “Well, what do you know? The famous racer has a pretty girl on his arm.” His lips curl in a smirk. “Hate to break it to you, but it’s obvious she’s just using you for your money. No way she knows anything about these cars other than how much they cost.”
Charles crosses his arms. “As it so happens, my girlfriend is an engineer for Scuderia Ferrari, so I’d bet my entire net worth — and my car collection — that she knows more about the cars in this dealership than all four of you combined and then some.”
You have to bite your lip to hide a smile at the dumbfounded looks on the men’s faces.
“An engineer?” One sputters. “You can’t be serious.”
You level a challenging stare at them. “Deadly serious. I’ve personally worked on over a dozen projects for Ferrari, including the SF90 Stradale hypercar we just launched.” You point across the showroom. “There’s one right over there, in fact. Mid-front mounted 4.0L twin-turbo V8, delivering 769 brake horsepower combined with three electric motors. First plug-in hybrid Ferrari ever put into full production.” You smirk at the slack-jawed stares your technical rundown elicits. “So yes, I’d say I know a thing or two about these cars.”
Charles grins proudly and squeezes your hand. But the leader is not ready to back down just yet.
“Anyone can memorize a monologue,” he scoffs. “I don’t buy it. You’re clearly just clinging to this guy for his money.”
Fury rises in your chest. You open your mouth to retaliate, but Charles beats you to it.
“That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about,” he snaps, green eyes blazing. “I’d be very careful with what you say next.”
The man smirks, crossing his bulky arms over his chest. “Or what, tough guy?”
Charles takes a step forward, jaw clenched. The man towers over him but Charles doesn’t flinch.
Right as it looks like things might get physical, you quickly take Charles’s arm. “He’s not worth it,” you murmur.
Charles hesitates, nostrils flaring. After a tense moment, he relaxes his stance and turns his back on the leering man.
But it seems the group isn’t done provoking you yet. “That’s right, listen to your sugar baby,” one of them calls out. “Wouldn’t want you messing up that pretty face for the cameras.”
Charles whips back around, shaking with anger now. Heart pounding, you cling to his arm in an effort to hold him back. “Charles, please-”
“No, Y/N.” He shakes off your hand, stalking toward the men. “I won’t stand here and let them insult you.”
You watch helplessly as Charles gets right in the leader’s face, nearly nose to nose. “You need to apologize. Now,” he grits out.
The man narrows his eyes. “Apologize? For what? Stating the obvious?” He smirks coldly. “Face it, your little girlfriend is nothing but a gold diggin-”
He doesn’t get to finish the sentence. With lightning speed, Charles’ fist connects squarely with his jaw. The man stumbles back with a pained shout, hand flying to his face.
“Charles!” You hurry to his side, alarmed. Charles is breathing hard, staring down at the man doubled over and groaning. The man’s friends back away nervously.
Chest heaving, Charles turns to you. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t listen to him insult you for another second.”
You meet his fiery gaze steadily. “It’s okay, I understand. Thank you for defending me.” After a beat, you add wryly, “And remind me not to get on your bad side.”
That startles a small laugh from Charles. The tension in his shoulders eases. He takes your hand, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “No chance of that, mon ange,” he murmurs. “You bring out the best in me.”
***
“Ow, ow, ow!” Charles hisses as he gingerly holds his right hand. His knuckles are bruised and bleeding.
You sigh, grabbing the first aid kit to tend to your dramatic boyfriend. “I told you not to punch him, Charles. You don’t know the first thing about throwing a proper punch.”
Charles pouts, wincing as you take his hand in yours to examine it. “I was just trying to defend your honor, mon amour. That man was saying such crude things about you.”
You shake your head, amused by his protectiveness. “My hero,” you tease. “Next time just walk away. I don’t need you breaking your hand over some entitled idiot’s comments.”
Charles hangs his head. “I know, I know. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I just saw red when he kept insulting you.”
You smile softly, touched by how much he cares. You start cleaning the wounds on his knuckles with a disinfectant wipe.
“Ow!” Charles cries out dramatically. “That stings!”
“Don’t be such a baby,” you chide. “It’s just a little antiseptic. I have to clean it so it doesn’t get infected.”
Charles pouts some more but stays still as you finish cleaning the abrasions. You apply an antibiotic ointment carefully before beginning to wrap his hand with a bandage.
“I really messed up my hand, didn’t I?” Charles mumbles dejectedly.
You nod. “You definitely did some damage. Nothing serious, but you’ll be sore for a while.”
Once you’ve wrapped his hand securely, you bring it to your lips and place a gentle kiss on the bandage. “There. All better.”
Charles gives you a lopsided smile. “My own personal nurse. How did I get so lucky?”
You grab an ice pack from the freezer and hand it to him. “Here, put this on your hand to help with the swelling and pain.”
Charles sighs dramatically but does as instructed, holding the ice pack gingerly against his injured hand.
You glance at his wrapped hand, the knuckles already starting to bruise beneath the bandage. “Does it hurt terribly?”
Charles considers the question. “Honestly? Yes, it really does. Punching someone is not as easy as it looks in the movies.”
You laugh. “No kidding. That’s why you leave the punching to trained fighters, not Formula 1 drivers.”
“Ugh, this is so embarrassing,” Charles mutters. “What will the team say when they find out I injured myself in a fight? And I’ll never hear the end of it from Pierre.”
You pat his leg reassuringly. “Just say you hurt it working out. No one has to know about your misguided attempt at honorable combat,” you tease.
Charles chuckles ruefully. “Good idea. The last thing I need is for this to become paddock gossip.”
You both sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, Charles icing his hand while you snuggle contentedly against him.
"Thank you for patching me up and taking such good care of me,” Charles gently brushes the hair from your face with his uninjured hand. “Even when I do stupid things."
You grin. “It’s a tough job but someone’s gotta do it. Especially since you did almost break your hand for me.”
You settle back against Charles comfortably. He may be reckless and impulsive at times, but you know he always has the best intentions at heart. And you'll always be there to care for him if those good intentions backfire.
For better or worse, this protective man is the love of your life.
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arieslost · 1 month
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quiet | op81
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oscar piastri x fem!reader
summary: oscar is quiet in the ways he loves you.
word count: 1,620
warnings: disgusting levels of fluff
masterlist — join my tag list here!
© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.
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– the sidewalk rule
You don’t even have to explain this to Oscar. In fact, he’s done it every single time the two of you walk together. You really don’t even notice until you see something on TikTok about it and think it would be fun to pay attention and see if he did it or not without you saying anything.
“Wanna go for a walk?” You ask him casually, and he nods, reaching for his sneakers.
Exercise tends to be the bane of your existence, a la Yuki Tsunoda, but you love to walk, and Oscar loves to walk with you. So whenever you ask him to go for a walk, no matter what he’s doing or how he’s feeling, he’ll always drop everything to go with you.
He holds the door open for you to go out first. “What kind of walk are you thinking, babe?”
“Mm, probably a longer one. It’s pretty nice out today.” You say, taking a deep breath of the fresh air. It feels so nice after being cooped up inside working for most of the day.
Lacing your fingers with his, you purposely place yourself on the outside of the sidewalk, but you don’t make it more than fifteen feet before Oscar stops both of you so abruptly that you nearly fall backwards.
“What? What’s wrong?” You ask your boyfriend, who is frowning.
“This is not right,” he mumbles, gently grabbing you by your shoulders and maneuvering you to the inside of the sidewalk. “You walk there. I walk here.”
“Why?” You feign innocence.
“I protect you,” he says, like it’s obvious. “I’m always on the outside to protect you.”
He says it with such conviction that you don’t bother telling him that you did it on purpose because you saw a TikTok. Instead, you press a kiss to his cheek, take his hand again, and go on your way on the proper side of the sidewalk.
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– fixing your clothes
Sometimes, you think that Oscar is more attentive to you than you are to yourself. It’s like he’s gained a sixth sense dedicated entirely to you. This applies to microexpressions, body language, even when your clothes are even the tiniest bit askew.
You’re five minutes late to a work meeting, you can’t find your shoes, and you haven’t even left yet. Oscar watches you rush around the apartment, holding your bag and your keys in his hand so you don’t have to go looking for those either.
“I’m so fired after this,” you huff, forcing your feet into your shoes that you finally located and wincing when your fingers get stuck between your heel and the shoe.
“You won’t get fired,” he says gently. “This is the first time you’ve ever been late, and you’re a fantastic employee. I’m sure they’ll be understanding.”
“They’d better be, I need this job.” You mutter, shoving your arms into your jacket and buttoning it at the speed of light.
“You don’t need a job, I can take care of you.”
“Nice try, Osc. We’ve talked about this, I’m not going to be your sugar baby.”
“Trophy wife?”
You glare at him playfully. “I’ll see you later. Or in an hour, if I get fired.”
“You won’t get fired,” he repeats as you take your bag and keys from him. “Oh, wait a second!”
You pause as he reaches for you, undoing the uneven buttons courtesy of your hastiness and deftly buttoning them back up the right way. “There y’go, have a good day, honey.” He gives you a kiss and opens the door for you.
A few days later, Oscar comes home to see that his favorite hoodie is missing. He walks into the living room, where you’re curled up on the couch taking a nap, wearing the hoodie in question. He sits at your side, brushing your hair away from your face, and that’s when he notices that one of the drawstrings is tucked back behind your neck into the hoodie. It doesn’t look like it’s causing you any discomfort, since you’re asleep, but regardless he immediately starts to tug on it. You stir, and he freezes.
“No, don’t wake up,” he whispers. “Just fixing this for you.”
“M’kay, thanks Osc,” you reply, wrapping a hand around his wrist. “Cuddle me.”
“Baby, I just got home from work, I’m sweaty-”
“Don’t care,” you grumble, reaching for him when he stands up and causing the hoodie to ride up over your stomach. “Miss you. Cuddle me.”
“Let me shower quick, and then I’m all yours, okay?” He pulls the hem of the hoodie down as he leans over and kisses your forehead.
You twiddle the drawstring that he fixed between your fingers as you wait for him, thinking about how sweet he is to pay such close attention to you all the time.
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– watching your favorite movies with you
Nobody is perfect, and in your eyes, Oscar’s only imperfection is that he’s never seen Star Wars. As a life-long, diehard fan, you decided to wait until you’d been with him for a few months to introduce him to that side of you and invite him over for a Star Wars marathon.
“I hope these live up to the hype,” Oscar teases, surveying the way you’ve decorated the entire living area with Star Wars paraphernalia, prepared Star Wars inspired snacks, and just laid a Star Wars blanket across the both of you.
“Are you joking? It will be everything I say it is and more, now be quiet.” You shush him as the main theme begins.
You peek over at him over and over throughout every movie, almost watching him more than the films to see how he reacts to every little moment. You start to watch him more intensely during Revenge of The Sith, but ultimately your focus goes back to the movie when Padme arrives on Mustafar to confront Anakin, Obi-Wan secretly in tow.
Oscar’s enjoying the movies, of course, but even without seeing them he knows how well you know this upcoming scene. He’s heard you recite it so many times under your breath at various times that he feels like he might be able to surprise you with his minimal well of knowledge within the next few minutes. He grins to himself as the penultimate moment of the scene grows closer and closer and you sit up straight, accidentally knocking his arm off of your shoulders without noticing as you move to the edge of the couch.
“I have brought peace, freedom, justice, and security to my new empire!” Anakin says on screen, and you say the words at the same time.
“Your new empire?” Obi-Wan replies. Oscar mouths the words along with him, gathering up his nerve.
“Don’t make me kill you,” you and Anakin warn.
“Anakin, my allegiance is to the Republic, to democracy!” Oscar exclaims, getting a little ahead of Obi-Wan in his enthusiasm.
“If you’re not with me,” you and Anakin say as you slowly turn to face your boyfriend, “then you’re my enemy.”
“Only a Sith deals in absolutes.” Oscar and Obi-Wan reply evenly, Oscar unable to hide the smile on his face at your barely contained excitement. “I will do what I must.”
“You will try.” Only Anakin says this final line, because you launch yourself at Oscar and bear hug him.
“You knew the lines! You did so well!” You cheer, kissing his head, his temple, his cheeks.
“You say them all in your sleep, that’s how I knew,” Oscar says, flushed from your sudden onslaught of affection.
“I do not!” He gives you a look. “Okay, I wouldn’t be surprised if I did, but still! You knew! I can’t believe- oh, wait, shh!” You shush him again, even though you’re the one talking. “Pay attention, this part is so good.”
Oscar’s smile doesn’t fade for the rest of the night as he pulls you back into his side, knowing that while this is the first, it definitely isn’t the last time he’s watching these movies with you.
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– nose kisses
Oscar is the first and only person to kiss you on the nose, and you’re glad. It’s become such an Oscar thing that if anyone else did it you’d feel wrong.
The first time he did it had been a complete accident– all the lights were off already, you were both exhausted, and he was just trying to give you a goodnight kiss, but completely overshot your lips and ended up getting your nose instead.
“I’m too tired to apologize, I’ll do it in the morning,” he grumbled, and you had simply snuggled closer to him.
“S’alright, I liked it.”
After that it became the place he kissed you the most. He gives you a nose kiss first thing in the morning and last thing at night. At this point, he kisses your nose more than anywhere else, including your lips. You ask him for a kiss, and he kisses your nose.
“A real kiss,” you whine, and he furrows his eyebrows at you.
“That was a real kiss.”
“On the lips, like a normal person, please.”
Oscar crosses his arms over his chest. “Now hold on, I thought you said you liked it.”
“I do!” You protest. “It’s very sweet, but sometimes I want to actually kiss my boyfriend.”
He gives in easily, but the nose kisses are never ending. Posing for a picture? He wants to kiss your nose. Saying goodbye? You’re getting a nose kiss. He’s about to get in the car to race? He’s kissing your nose before he puts his helmet on.
While you love getting “real” kisses, Oscar’s nose kisses are more precious to you than any other kind of kiss.
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note: here is the prompt list i used for this; this was a different format than how i usually write so i hope it was good! this is also the first full fic i’m posting that isn’t in the 3k word range which is shocking jdjfkfkf
requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!
reblogs are greatly appreciated <33
dividers by @/saradika !
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sleyu · 8 months
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thinking about meanbf!sirius <3 visits you at work only to fuck you in the staff bathroom <3 speaks to you in french while you fuck because he knows you won’t understand what he’s saying and it makes you teary eyed <3 i love him so much PLEABS!!!
stop stop do you know how delusional this is making me . . . this is all i’m gonna think about when i’m at work.(;_;)♡
i can picture him visiting you at work, maybe to pick you up after your shift ends, and him narrowing his eyes at one of your male coworkers that's being a little too close for comfort. when sirius comes up to you to take you home and your coworker protectively stands in front of you, he just stands there, feeling shocked for a brief moment, sneering before softening his eyes at the sight of you stepping towards him and hugging him tightly.
maybe it was the presence of your coworker entirely, or maybe it was the coworker asking you if sirius was simply your friend that made him want to steal you away every time you went on a break to fuck you stupid.
suddenly, sirius didn’t just visit your workplace to drop you off or pick you up. he began forcing you to text him the time you went break so that he could drag you to the staff bathroom for a nice, “quick,” 30-minute fuck. he practically has the bathroom code memorized with how many times he’s fucked you in it.
he would sit there for a while, clicking his ring-clad fingers against the table, bouncing his knees—doing anything to relieve him of his impatience. sirius would silently reel at the apprehension written all over your face and the flush on your cheeks as your coworkers or customers would speak with you. upon your break beginning, you could barely manage to kiss your boyfriend on the lips before he yanked you away to the employee bathroom.
‘why does he have to touch you so much, hm?’ he’d mutter bitterly, hastily lifting your skirt and pushing your panties to the side, simpering at the slick on his fingers as he dragged his fingers up your slit, slowly circling his middle finger over your gushing hole. ‘just touching you for no good reason.’
you would furrow your eyebrows at the agonizing feeling and hum in agreement with the man behind you. the hard porcelain of the sink was pressing painfully against your hips and your heart was beating rapidly, your mind only praying that people at work hadn’t caught on to the employee bathroom being occupied for thirty whole minutes nearly every day.
‘don’t know, siri,’ you’d mumble while sighing breathlessly, feeling flush at the sight of sirius staring at you intensely from the washroom mirror, studying your facial expressions while smiling in amusement at your bashfulness.
sirius would smile broadly at the sight of you sinking your teeth into the back of your hand, a useless and insufficient attempt in muffling your cries as he hammered into you from behind, watching you take the extra step to turn on the sink faucet to conceal the loud, echoing sounds of skin slapping as he thrust into you. he would exhibit a shit-eating grin, lazily staring at your eyes welled up with tears of humiliation at the lewd, moist sounds of you creaming around his cock with each rut.
sirius’s pace is unforgiving and relentless, and all the while, he would tug on your hair to jerk your head back so he could bite and suck on your neck, leaving bruised, mean marks along the side of your throat that he makes certain will show.
‘sluts like you love getting fucked in places like this, huh? just imagine what they’d think—your little friends,’ sirius breathed shakily, feeling his mind go numb at the feeling of your drenched cunt pulsating around his thick, throbbing cock.
‘does that git know what a fuckin’ slut you are for me? does he know that this cunt gets filled up every second of every day?’
‘‘s like you can’t get enough—fuck—i’m sure he can’t fuck you like this—oh—satisfy all your needs like me, yeah?’
sirius is the epitome of mean and truly does not give a fuck about what anything else thinks. he would purposely pull your hand away from your mouth, letting your moans spill uncontrollably from your mouth, echoing inside the enclosed space of the washroom.
he wants that “fucker”—according to sirius—to hear the way you lose your mind with his cock inside you. sirius would only laugh softly at the sight of your head dropping helplessly, tears spilling down your cheeks, lips parted with pants escaping them at the feeling of his cock brushing against the sweet spots inside your cunt.
‘need more. i don’t think i have enough time, sirius,’ you’d mewl. ‘please go harder.’
sirius would not care if this was cutting into your work time but he’s more than happy to fuck you harder and faster. he’s not stopping until he’s pleased and you're fucked out—eyes rolling back, and throat worn out from your loud moans. he could care less if your break was finished or if someone was banging on the door, begging to use the washroom—he’s finished when he’s finished.
‘cunts taking me so well, i’m definitely not stopping. ‘n i’m sure my girl doesn’t want me to either—not when you’re so close, yeah?’
and speaking of him talking to you in french . . . he knows you get off to his dirty talk, so him speaking in a language you can’t understand—hearing how you whine at the feeling of being unaware of his thoughts and his words only make the knot in his stomach tighter.
secretly, sirius is mumbling cheesy shit like, ‘i love you,’ or ‘you’re so pretty,’ to save himself from the embarrassment of saying soft things so contradicting to his fronting personality.
also, this is sirius. we all know that he’s working to the fucking bone to make sure he cums inside you and that his seed is buried deep inside your tight little cunt. without a doubt, he’s saving a little bit of his cum for your panties, cumming all over them, dampening the cotton fabric so that when you put them back on after getting dressed, your cunt would be stained and sticky from his seed, leaving you uncomfortable all day at the feeling of your wet, soiled underwear.
i think, if we are truly wanting to appreciate and hate the essence of mean bf ! sirius, i fear that he’s gonna pull out of you the very last second, when your one thrust away from cumming, watching and reeling as you sob at the lost contact, unconsciously wiggling your bum to entice him to take you again and help you find your release. he needs to make sure your cunt aches and longs for him, yearning the feeling of his long cock thrusting inside relentlessly.
‘no—fuck—please, sirius!’ you’d sob, shoving your head against his chest and hitting him weakly with your fist. ‘feel so empty, siri—please. it hurts so bad.’
sirius almost succumbed at the sight of your trembling pout and your longing, teary eyes. unfortunately, he persevered against temptation and pressed a gentle, tender kiss on your temple before pulling away and helping you get dressed again. he would coo and wipe away your tears, laughing to himself at the sight of your glare and your thighs rubbing against each other in an attempt to find relief and ease your aching, empty cunt.
‘when i pick you up, puppy,’ he’d pull you into a deep kiss, firmly gripping the back of your neck. ‘i’ll fuck you and make you cum as much as you want. good girls wait, yeah?’
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vivwritesfics · 4 months
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No Need To Ask
Chapter Fourteen - His Pretty, Little Wife
The Norris' were a notorious crime family in the UK. One of many. With Norris, the head of the family, running operations with his son, Lando, they work to keep Y/N Norris, Norris' daughter protected. Life in a crime family wasn't something they wanted for her.
But with tension with one of the Spanish crime families rise, Norris and his now deceased wife come up with only one plan, offer their daughter to the Sainz's or risk an all out war.
The next chapter is going to be the midway point, basically. We've still got so much more plot to come and I really don't know how long this story is going to be, it's already 25.5K long all together
1.8K words
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Marie. The cook that Carlos fucked was called Marie.
It was easy for Y/N to find her; she didn’t think she would ever forget that face. When she walked down into the kitchens, Marie’s face went pale. She let out an alarmed squeak and went to hide behind another one of the cooks.
From the way Y/N was dressed, she didn’t blame Marie for hiding away. She was meant to be powerful and imposing, mirroring the aura her husband gave off. The long, black dress with the slit up the side of the skirt, and heeled boots. It was gorgeous, making Y/N look ever the part of the powerful mafia wife her mother once was.
“Relax, Marie,” Y/N said as she leaned against the worktop, staring at her.
The employee she was hiding behind cleared his throat and stepped out of the way, leaving Marie at Y/N’s mercy.
She gulped as she looked at the lady of the house. “Please, mi señora, no quise hacer daño,” she cried. She fell to her knees, clasping her hands together, tears springing to her eyes.
Y/N sucked in a breath. Her Spanish lessons had been going well enough that she could pick up a couple of words and peace together the sentence. Please, my lady, Marie had said, I meant no harm. She took a moment to formulate a response.
It may have made her appear weak, but Y/N didn’t care. “Marie, esta bien,” She said, unfolding her arms. (Marie, it is okay). “Tengo una propuesta para ti.” But this was where she stopped being able to speak to Marie in her native tongue.
She sucked in a deep breath. “Your sleeping with my husband is not something I blame you for, okay? If it had been me sleeping with another man, my husband would have had him killed.” Marie let out a cry. “But I don’t want to have you killed. I will not have you killed. What I want to do is to set you up, with enough money that you won’t need to work,” she said.
“Mi señora,” said Marie as she fell to her knees, gasping sobs leaving her lips.
“I’ll give you the money, enough to set you up for life, as long as you leave wordlessly and tell nobody where you’re going.”
Gulping, Marie nodded her head. She’d do as her lady asked, from fear she’d lose her life.
Carlos’s money was now Y/N’s money, too. She could do what she wanted with it, and what she wanted to do was set Marie up somewhere nice.
She took the money and found Marie somewhere to live. It was on the very edge of the Sainz territory, somewhere they’d never think to look. She gave Marie the money and helped her to escape in the dead of night.
Marie would never admit it, but she was grateful to señora Sainz, for helping her get away from this life of crime. It was no little girls dream to serve the biggest crime family in Spain, but, once you got in, there was no way out. Y/N was offering her a helping hand, and Marie jumped to take it.
Y/N made her way to Carlos’s office. She pushed past the men guarding the door, who no longer bothered to stop her, and took her seat at Carlos’s desk. In his chair, with his feet up on the top of the desk.
It was a risk, sitting in his seat, but it was a risk Y/N was willing to take. There was no telling how he would react when he came back in from the garden, to see her sitting in his seat.
But Y/N didn’t have to wait for very long. Carlos came back in from the garden, not paying much attention as he strode across his office.
But then he spied her, sitting at his desk. A smirk crossed his face. “Hello, my pretty, little wife,” he said, sitting in one of the seats on the other side of the desk. He leaned back as he stared at her. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Have you seen Marie recently?” Asked Y/N as she looked at him over the top of her boots.
Carlos let the smile drop from his face. “No, Y/N, I haven’t,” he answered.
“I wonder why that could be.”
It took Carlos a moment to realise what she meant. They’d played that game of chess nearly a week ago, the dots were hard to connect. But, once he got it, Carlos let that same smirk cross his face once ago. “Oh Dios mío,” he said with a shake of his head. “My pretty little wife had somebody killed. I never thought I’d see the day.”
Carlos liked it. For some unexplainable reason, Carlos liked it. He liked the fact that she had somebody killed. This wasn’t what Y/N expected. She didn’t really know what to do now. But she didn’t shift, didn’t move. She kept her gaze on Carlos, feet on the table. “You said you’d kill any man I slept with, so I thought I’d return the favour.”
“Did you know Marie had a family?” Carlos asked as he leaned back. “Her husband died, bless her, but she had two little boys. Mateo and Diego. I wonder what they will do without their mother. Well, I wonder how long they’ll last without her.”
As he said it, Carlos watched for Y/N’s reaction, and Y/N knew that. But it was hard to know how to react. Marie had already told her about Diego and Mateo, and Y/N had given her enough for the whole family to get away. But Carlos didn’t know that. He was expecting her to be distraught.
But that was what the old Y/N would have done, what the weak Y/N would have done.
She found the balance, picking at her nails as she said, “I didn’t know that,” she mumbled, no longer meeting his gaze.
Carlos smirked as he stood from his seat and straightened out his suit jacket. “No matter, mi amor, it is no concern of ours.” He pulled Y/N’s chair back, making her legs fall from the desk. Carlos kissed the top of her head and stood her up from the chair, taking her place. “You can stay with me, querida, sit on my lap while I have meetings,” he said, wearing a devilish grin.
Y/N quickly shook her head and rushed out of the office. What Carlos had just offered, all because he thought she had somebody killed, was that a step in the right direction? Was that evidence that Carlos was going to start respecting her? Only time would tell.
***
This was one of those rare instances where Carlos’s family didn’t join them for dinner. Family dinners was something Sainz was very passionate about, and he’d insisted they’d all meet at Carlos’s house while Y/N was settling in. But this was the last week where Carlos would host the dinner and soon they’d be returning to dinners at Sainz’s.
But tonight, there was no family dinner. Carlos still insisted he and Y/N ate together, though.
After her Spanish lesson, one of Carlos’s men came to get her. They’d begun to speak to her in Spanish, and Y/N had to try her best to understand them. If she couldn’t understand them, they’d try again in English, something she was grateful for.
Y/N stood from the table. “Gracias señora,” she said to her Spanish tutor and walked out of the library.
Her heels clicked against the floor as she walked out to the patio. She stood in front of the pool for just a second, looking at the reflection of the clouds in the sky. Every morning Carlos went for his daily swim, and Y/N would have been lying if she said she didn’t watch him.
She looked towards the table, where the kitchen staff were laying the food out on the table. It was a lot for two people, far too much. There was no sign of Maria as they laid the table.
No sign of her husband either.
But then Y/N looked towards the other side of the garden, towards the fire pit. It wasn’t lit, but Carlos was sat there, cigarette between his lips.
She strode towards him, walking across the patio, towards her husband. He looked up at his, dark eyes following her as she approached. “I didn’t know you smoked,” she said as she came to stand in front of him.
Carlos released the smoke from his lungs and looked up at his wife. He wrapped his arm around her place, pulling her close. “Does my pretty little wife not like it when I smoke?” He asked, an amused smile playing on his lips. His face was level with her stomach, so close to…
Y/N shook her thoughts away. She leaned down and wrapped her arms around his neck, ever step calculating. “Oh no, Carlos,” she said, slowly getting closer to him. “I couldn’t care less,” she whispered and kissed his cheek.
Standing up straight she walked away from him, hips swaying from side to side as she walked around the pool, making her way to the table.
She looked towards the golf course. Since she’d married Carlos, she hadn’t seen the golf course be used once. It was a favourite pastime of her brothers, back when he was allowed to have pastimes. If they were a normal couple, if they had married for love, Y/N was sure she would have gotten him to teach her some golf while she taught him how to play the perfect game of chess. But, instead, Y/N was left longing for that life, for the husband who would teach her golf and swim with her in the pool, who would stop smoking because she asked and hold her close as they sat around the fire pit.
Her eyes moved towards Carlos, watching as he finished the cigarette. She didn’t know when he had started calling her his pretty, little wife. But she wasn’t complaining. It made her knees weak, hearing those words leave his pretty lips.
Y/N watched as he stubbed out his cigarette and walked around the pool, sitting himself at the table opposite her. He wore that same amused smile as he began putting things on Y/N’s plate. Fuck, she wanted him. She wanted him so bad.
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cursingtoji · 7 months
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ᥫ᭡ — EXECUTIVE AFFAIRS: In a cutthroat world of boardroom battles and power struggles, you must navigate ambition , corporate intrigue, and unexpected love affairs.
✧ PRELUDE
— contents: CEO!reader, construction worker!Toji, lawyer!Nanami, therapist!Geto, ex-husband!Gojo; power imbalance, sexual frustration, manipulation, use of 'darling', 'baby', 'dear' & 'boss', 4k words, on-going series
— note: osha is the occupational safety and health administration agency in the USA, even tho i'm not american seems easier to just say osha (also a fun word to pronunce)
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A young man opens the rear door of the Jaguar as soon as your driver stops by the construction site, “This way ma’am” you accept his hand, touching the cement with your stiletto first before getting out of the vehicle.
As scheduled you are heading to a meeting with the architect responsible for this particular project, a big one. Normally the CEO wouldn’t be involved in such routine visits like this, but you definitely don’t want to be like the previous CEO, who barely stepped out of his office for anything.
Besides, you have to make a good impression with the other directors that would be there today as well, and what better way to do that if not going to the construction site yourself, even though you clearly do not belong there given the way your heel wobbled as soon as it touched the uneven ground.
“Excuse me, miss” you’re stopped by a man twice your size — horizontally and almost vertically — extending a white helmet in your direction, “I’m sure that hair costed a lot and you don’t wanna cover it, but every person on site, even the ladies, ‘gotta wear it.”
You stand a bit shocked at the man addressing you like it’s not your last name on his uniform.
“Mr. Fushiguro, I should inform you that it’s your CEO you’re talking to” the boy beside you speaks up, he’s wearing a white helmet and the unknown man a yellow one.
“Great, so you are able to afford the OSHA fine if they decide today is a good day for inspection, but I’d rather not have another pointless safety training just ‘cause no one had the balls to tell you to protect your pretty ‘lil head” his expression doesn’t change a bit with the new information. You find that respectable, especially having so many people stuttering when talking to you.
If you were to say that you don’t get even a little bit amused by people being nervous in your presence Nanami would have to warn you about perjury. 
It’s quite a change to have a blue collar employee sticking to the rules and not batting an eye when the highest possible authority of the company is standing right in front of him, especially when that someone looks like he just got out of a sexy construction men calendar… not that you have ever seen one of those. That’s just what you think they might look like, plus that scar only adds up to fantasy.
You clean your throat, “I appreciate your work ethic, Mr. Fushiguro” you repeat the name so you won’t forget, “I wasn’t aware of the rules” you side-look the young man beside you who’s now staring at his own feet embarrassed since it was his duty to inform you.
“Call me Toji” you take the helmet and put it on, “By the way, you’re supposed to wear trousers too and… literally anything but that” he points with his chin to your high heels thinking how that alone was a safety hazard not just on a construction site. Toji leans closer “but I’ll let it slide, ‘cause you have quite beautiful legs.”
You are left mouth agape, internally appreciating that he didn’t say that out loud — after all being sexualized when you are trying to impose respect would require you to put a show and fire the man — but also makes you question if he was straight forward with you because of his work ethics or because he does not respect you as his superior. 
Not that you wouldn’t let him do disrespectful things to you, but still!
You’re taken to where the rest of the directors are, they’re easy to spot — a bunch of men in suits that clearly don’t belong to the place — surrounding a table with the blue prints. They greet you and you realize this is the first time you see all of them around a table and not sitting, poor guys must be dying for a room with AC right now.
It’s not like you belonged there either, with your tailor made beige suit that had a pencil skirt instead of the newly-discovered-necessary trousers and how-the-fuck-you-thought-that-was-a-good-idea high heels. But in your own defense you did visit a lot of construction sites when you first started at the company all those years ago and that’s much more than the white collar men in front of you can say.
The main architect starts to give you all an status of the project being interrupted by the senior engineer every few minutes, the last one clearly thinking he’s better than the first even though neither of them lifts a finger in this ground.
Your sight is drawn to the man that scolded you before, while the architect is pointing to something on top of the construction and everyone else is shielding their eyes from the sun to find it, you’re looking straight ahead to Toji who’s currently lifting an apparently very heavy sack of cement on his shoulder and taking it all across the site. God, he’s strong.
His handsome face shines with sweat, you’re sure the wife beater he has on also violates some OSHA code, but who would be crazy enough to report that? Not you for sure, the view is worth the OSHA fine.
Especially when he drops the sack with a grunt and uses the shirt to wipe his face, revealing a torso you’re sure Michelangelo would die to use as inspiration to sculpt into marble then having people saying ‘whoa that’s real art’. 
You wonder if someone would scream at you for touching that piece of art.
Unfortunately you don’t expect to get caught ogling by the subject himself. So the best thing you can do is find whatever the architect is pointing to and pretend to pay attention like you should have from the beginning instead of eye fucking one of your employees.
“Hey, boss” you hear on your way out of the site and back to your cozy office where you wouldn’t get your ankle broken that easily. You turn around and see Toji catwalking his way to you.
“Technically I'm out of the hazard zone, mr. Fushiguro” you justify your lack of a helmet which you ditched a few seconds ago.
“Toji” he corrects you, taking his own helmet off “and I’m not this uptight, unlike some people here today” he mutters the last part looking behind him to some of the directors that seemed to be looking for tiny errors on the project so they could fix it and justify being there.
“Well, what can I do for you?”
“I’m pretty sure you're being robbed.” 
“What?” you look around, “What do you mean?”
“You’re paying for double the stuff that’s actually being delivered” he took a sheet of folded paper out of his pants, you reach for it but he pulls it back, “I have proof and I can say names.”
“Did you say that to your field supervisor?”
“Please, who do ya think it’s signin’ under this?” he rolls his eyes.
“So you came to the CEO instead? You’re going behind some big backs here, sir.”
“Look, miss, I want a promotion, I know a lot of big shots will go down for this and I’m the only one capable of handling the people here. Besides I stand by what I said before, no one has the guts to do this so I’m taking a big risk and I deserve compensation” he hands back the paper and this time he let you take it. You stare into his deep green eyes suspiciously, the man has the looks of a fantasy villain with his sharp features and dark eyelashes, you're not entirely sure if you should believe him.
“Give your number to my assistant, we’ll schedule a meeting in the office, you tell me everything you know and I see what I can do about it.”
“In the office? Didn’t know you allowed commonores in your castle” he smirks.
“Only the pretty ones” you wink and his smile grows wider. 
“How long have you known about this?” Nanami questions.
“Not even 24 hours” you sit on your white couch signing for him to take the seat in front of you.
Your lawyer does that thing you find really hot where he unbuttons the coat of his five digit worth suit before sitting down. You admire Nanami’s elegance while he roams his eyes through the paper, he has a vest between the coat and the dress shirt. Navy blue suits him so well, matches his eyes. He makes you think every man should wear vests, but of course not every man can pull it off. Honestly, you find it hard to believe there's anything Nanami can’t pull off, but you haven't seen your lawyer without a suit… ever. 
Maybe he looks bad with a plain T-shirt? 
No way. 
Perhaps with an overall and cowboy hat? 
Mmm the image makes you wanna ride something. 
What about emo hair, eyeliner and a band tee? 
No, you can’t imagine Kento with emo hair, no chance he had a rebellious phase except if his parents wanted him to be a surgeon and he became the best lawyer in the city just to piss them off. 
“I’m glad you came to me first, but we’ll need to involve auditing and probably internal affairs. That’ll probably put the project on hold for some weeks, also I’ll need more evidence than this” he shook the one paper sheet that was merely a quotation of supplies even you could understand is way too much for a single building.
“I got the guy for that, say the word and Yuuta will arrange a meeting” you pointed to your assistant sitting outside.
“Tell me, dear” he put the sheet aside, taking that posture that intimidated you a bit, “A blue collar worker just saw your pretty self on the site and handed criminal evidence? Just like that?”
You open your mouth, thinking what to say that won’t sound like you are being taken advantage of, and failing.
“Oh darling” he says a bit too condescendingly for someone that technically works for you, “Thought I told you about being too naive” he leans on the couch, making himself comfortable like you’re about to have The Talk.
“Kento, is not like that” you cross your arms defensively, “He said he wants a promotion, how risky that would be?”
“Thought you would say that” he takes his phone and hands it to you, “So I did my own little research.”
“What’s this?” you find yourself looking at a picture of the man you met yesterday. 
Only now you could see tiny numbers behind him indicating his height and he held a plaque with his name. He looks way younger, still very handsome, you wonder how popular he used to be in his youth, with a face like that and the implication he was arrested was enough to make every girl’s bad-boy-dream come true.
“What was he accused of?” you ask out of curiosity.
“Not relevant, also sealed records” he breaks eye contact and that’s enough for you to understand he actually knows it and he did not get this information by any legal means.
“So what? The man got a bit of trouble with the law when he was young” you shrug, remembering even your ex husband had a little rich boy “criminal” file, if you can even call the dumb shit he did outta spite for his parents an actual crime.
“HR will find out about this, then you’re going to have to justify why you’re recommending a filled man for a managing position.”
“And I’ll tell them he actually found out about a theft scheme and whatever public-pissing crime he did will surely be overlooked.”
“Darling, you have to start thinking about your image, we’ve been through that before” he tilts his head.
“You don’t like my image?” you question playfully twirling your hair, Nanami smiles for a brief second.
“You know what I mean: your image towards the board, you barely made the votes necessary to be where you are today.”
Indeed, you owned the company and no one could take that away, but the CEO position needed to be voted and you only got the necessary votes because your ex-husband had the strongest voting rights and part of the divorce agreement was that he voted for you, so his, plus a few more other members of the board's votes and you made chief executive officer.
“Fine, then write a contract, he tells everything including testify if he has to in exchange of the supervisor position and I’ll pitch it to the board before any decisions are made” you uncross your arms raising from your seat.
Bringing the board into the conversation made you nervous, most of them don't like you and you’ve been trying to prove yourself for months. Even though you worked your ass off way before marrying the owner all they saw was a hurt ex-wife making pretend.
“Atta girl” Nanami raises too, buttoning his coat back and placing his hands on your tense shoulders. Nanami smells like what you think it should be every handsome lawyer's trademark scent, cause damn that smell would make you sign anything he gives you.
“Don’t worry much, you’re doing great” he presses a bit and you melt.
“Take me out to lunch?” you pout.
“I would love to” he lets go of your shoulder, “Unfortunately I have a hearing, but I'll be back for that meeting soon, okay?”
You sigh in defeat, getting even a few minutes of Nanami’s time for yourself is as hard as it can get, only a corruption scheme to get him to come to your office in such short notice.
“Ma’am” Yuuta says from the speakerphone, “Your ex-husband is calling” you groan, throwing your head back.
Of course he would want to interrupt your moment with Nanami.
“I can get you a restriction order” your lawyer offers jokily (or not).
Aside from being the company's lawyer, Nanami Kento was also your divorce attorney, which you managed to get only after agreeing to give him your company's account if he managed to land you the CEO position. Like everything in this merciless corporate world, it was give and take, you got what you wanted – not surprisingly so, afterall Nanami, even though is not a divorce specialist, is the best. Still, you like to think of him being more than another contractor of yours.
“I appreciate the offering” you smile tiredly, Nanami kisses your hand like the gentleman he is before leaving your office, “Yuuta, I’ll take him– it. I’ll take the call” you sit back behind your desk massaging your temple “Put him through.”
“Hello, beautiful” he greets over the speakerphone in that always so cheerful tone.
“Satoru, what do you want?”
“No chit-chat? It’s the least you could do for me after I gave you the company” entitled as always…
“You didn’t give it to me, you gave it up for the rest of your assets” you remind, already sick of this same discussion over and over.
When the divorce was officially on the table you told Kento exactly what you wanted: the company. The one thing you knew your ex husband would hate to lose, but also didn’t love as much as his lifestyle – which would be brutally affected if you decided to go for the 50% you were entitled to.
So through a carefully written agreement you accepted way less than you were owed in the form of full ownership of the respected construction company and title of chief executive officer.
“Six of one, half a dozen of the other. How have you been?”
“Fine. Just tell me what you want, I actually take this job seriously and have important things to do.”
Oh god, he would tease you so bad if he knew about the corruption scheme, and the worst part is that, eventually, he will know. Gojo has ears everywhere around here.
“Nanami” he says simply. You start to look around your office, wondering if he has cameras there.
“You… want… Nanami?”
“Yes, beautiful” he confirms slowly like he's talking to a kid that has just learned the alphabet.
“Why? You know what? Nevermind, I don't want to know. No, you can’t have him” you lean on your chair, denying Gojo gives you great satisfaction.
“It’s not for any bullshit reason, alright?”
“I don’t care, Satoru. Besides, I don’t own Kento, you can approach him anytime” you smile knowing he would never be able to do that without you.
“Aren’t you a sweetheart?” condescension drips from your phone and onto your desk, “He won’t represent me even if I run for president.”
“So you need legal representation? You’re not calling me from jail, are you Satoru?” you mirror his condescending tone, surely he can hear the smile in your voice.
“Thought you didn't care, or would you bail me out? Oh wait, I forgot, you don’t have the money for that” he laughs, arguing was never a thing with him, he would mock you and find a way to make you doubt your accusations. Gaslighting is it? “I’ll give it a shot, just so you know, but this is a great opportunity for you to ask something in return.”
“I don’t want anything from you.”
“Think about it, baby, I’m sure there's plenty of things I can do for you” his tone is lower, more seductive.
“Doubt it” you roll your eyes hearing his chuckle.
“Yeah? When was the last time you had–” 
You hang up.
Then sigh loudly and press the button to talk to Yuuta.
“Yes, ma’am?” you scrunch your nose, still not used to being called that, Nanami said you should let your sweet assistant call you ma'am or madam at least in front of others since you could use the recognition of your authority.
“Please put Geto on the line.”
“Certainly” you wait, stepping out of your heels and digging your toes on the fluff carpet under the table.
“Hi, doc” you salute your psychologist.
“Sugar, I told you there’s no need to address me like that, hurts my feelings” his honeyed voice is everything you need to hear in such stressful times.
“It does? Maybe you should see a therapist to talk about that, I have a great recommendation” you can’t help but smile like a little girl when talking to him, being playful is a way to cope with your harmless crush.
“Just great?”
“He’s the best, I can assure you” he laughs, “Do you have a few minutes?”
“For you, absolutely” your face warms up then you remember the subject of the call and cools down again.
“It’s Satoru.”
‘It’s always Satoru’ Geto thinks.
“He just called wanting something, I told him no and he made that same old joke about me not having money” you huffed.
“And how do you feel about that?”
“Helpless? I don't know, he must think I’m poor now or something” which is ridiculous, you’re not nearly close to his patrimony as you used to when you were married but what you have is still fuckload more than what it takes to be considered poor.
“He’s trying to remind you of what you lost when you left him, this is just another manipulation technique, my love. Don’t let him get in your head” you need this as a mantra to hear every time your ex-husband calls, “Did he bring up sex this time?”
“No, but he was about to.”
“And what did you say?”
“Hanged up” you hear him snorting.
“Well, that can work on the phone, but what if you were talking face to face? What would you have done?”
Geto knows a lot about you. Obviously since you pay him to listen while you ramble and complain. Still, feels overwhelming having someone recalling your previous actions, especially the ones you're not exactly proud of.
“Tell him to shut up, throw a stapler on him, call security, threaten him with a restriction order.”
“Would you really?” Geto likes to take a joke you make and dig on that.
“Well, probably not the last two…” 
“Have you been looking up restriction orders?”
“No, that was a joke my lawyer made early. A restriction order would be too… bureaucratic? Also unnecessary, afterall Satoru he never physically hurt me or threatened to.”
“That would be a good way of making him leave you alone for a while since you're not able to fully detach from him” you sat up.
“That's not true! I’ve been doing everything by myself lately, don't even have time to think about him! I’m detached, doc.”
“Wanna know what I think you would have done if he made that sexual comment face to face with you?” you gulp and Geto takes your silence as consent to continue, “I think you would let him go forward with it.”
You make an offended sound but don't fight his statement, “And what would happen next?” he tones the question like a professor trying to make the class complete a sentence, you keep your head down and mouth shut, “You would’ve let him sweet talk you into sleeping with him again.”
“You don't know that” you murmur.
“It’s a pattern, love. This is how abusive husbands keep their wives from leaving them or even telling anyone about the abuse. They use sex to make them think how good it is to be with them despite everything else.”
“Satoru was not abusive.” you defend your ex-husband firmly, “And I already left him!” you defend yourself less firmly.
“And he still thinks he can have you back! You know why?”
“Because I’m a catch that he shouldn’t have cheated?” Geto stays quiet for a few seconds and you feel a lump in your throat forming. The comment was supposed to sound more like a joke but you're still too hurt for that , clearly.
“That as well, but you really think he regrets it?”
“He seemed pretty sorry in the divorce mediation” you murmur recalling his lost-puppy expression.
“The meeting where he signed a paper that would make him lose his company and his wife? Gee I wonder why” the little sarcastic remark made you smile and shake your head, your psychologist using sarcasm against you is quite funny, “My point is, if you really want to be independent from him you ‘gotta stop letting yourself be attracted back like a magnet” you let his words sink in hearing some papers being ruffled on his side.
“I’m giving you homework.”
“Oh no…”
“Find your sexuality by yourself, you can watch porn, masturbate or even better: have sex with someone. Anyone but Satoru, because right now that’s what he’s using to control you.”
“Geto, I don’t know about this. Porn is too gross, masturbation is too ineffective and sex is too…” you trail off.
“Vulnerable?” he completes.
“I guess…”
“It’s been a few months since you last slept with Satoru, right? What’re you feeling?”
“What do you mean?” you rub your face.
“You know what I mean” he's strict and you let out a long sigh.
“I feel frustrated, sometimes stressed and distracted” all caused by the men you have to deal with including the handsome psychologist putting some sense in you. Not exactly what you wanted him to put in, but oh well…
“Exactly, in your current state it’s only a matter of time until you end up on his bed. You gotta decide if you are willing to: find porn that is not gross, masturbate more effectively or let yourself relax and be vulnerable.”
Is easy to like Geto Suguru, he’s handsome, has a sweet voice, he listens without interrupting (manterrupting is a big no-no for this job thankfully). Though sometimes it’s easy to hate him too, you have to remember he's saying what you need to hear not what you want to, even if your ears could use some tickling from time to time.
“Still with me?” he asks after you remain quiet.
“Yes, doc” he says your name in a warning tone, “Sorry, Suguru.”
“All good for our appointment next week?”
“Hm” your thoughts go to the newly found out corruption scheme that will need your attention the following days, “I’ll ask Yuuta to confirm with your secretary alright?”
“Whatever works best for you, love.”
“Bye, Suguru.”
“Don’t forget your homework.”
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🏷️ @rinntvrou @sakurasimppp @sad-darksoul — to be tagged in future works of this series please comment “@ me” in this post.
note: i’m not sure if tickle the ears is a known term worldwide but means “saying or suggesting things to please even if untrue”. also i have some big plans for kinktober so next chapter might take a little while to be posted, let me know your thoughts <3
© all content belongs to cursingtoji; do not repost!
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Note
Hey if it’s not to much trouble, could I please get a tanjiro! Fem reader with yandere ouran high school host club? I just feel like the sunny personality and hard work would pair nicely.
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Tanjiro Reader | Yandere Ouran Host Club 
Your smiles, your optimism, and your empathy make you a perfect guest at the Ouran Academy’s host club. Your sweetness is irresistible and your willingness to help just makes keeping you at the Host club all the better. Too bad you seem intent on chasing after one:
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Tamaki Suoh
“W-whoa y-your strong!”
“Well thank you! I do a lot of training.”
Is amazed by how much power you have 
Over him and in general
Just the way you’re so willing to scoop him up when he dramatically pretends he can’t move
Not to mention you seem so ambitious
But for whatever reason you just won’t share
“Its kinda….yeah I think its best if I don’t talk about it.”
“B-b-but (Y/n)! I have to know everything!”
He couldn’t not know the love of his life’s personal struggles
While he could hire someone to find out its just more fun if he goes exploring stalking himself
Let’s just hope he doesn’t die on the way
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Kyoya Ootori
You’re an elusive character he can’t help but fall in love with 
So sweet, so kind but there’s something more
Something fiery 
And through all his employee’s research he can find nothing
Only that your funded by the Ubayashiki group and that your sibling is a mute allergic to the sun
But he needs to know more
Like where those scars came from or why your so strong
“Well I guess there’s only one way to find out. Oh (Y/n) why don’t you travel with m-us to the Ootori resort?”
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Hikaru Hitachin
Why were you so perfect?
He was just genuinely asking 
It was a little weird how you could tell him apart from his brother by smell 
but he wasn’t complaining when you can smell exactly what he’s feeling
And what he’s been through
“W-what are you doing here (Y/n)?”
“Well it smelt like some blood on you, are you hurt anywhere?”
“Ah uh yeah, right uhm here.”
He can’t help but want more of you
Your just so smart
Its hard to protect his place in your heart
But no worries that’s nothing money can’t fix right
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Kaoru Hitachin
“Y’know you’re almost too perfect. Theres got to be something wrong with you.”
“Heheh maybe there is!”
You’re so sweet 
Everyone loves you and you listen to everyone
But who listens to you
What are you hiding
To be so strong, so powerful, so skilled 
He’d love to protect you at least once
He can be worthy of you
Just you wait and see
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Takashi Morinozuka
“Ah you remind me of Nezukuro. Oh! That’s my sibling!”
He likes you 
A lot
Always responsible, always kind
Who wouldn’t love you
Which is what he tries to reason with when others pine for you
“Leave them alone.”
He doesn’t like hurting others 
Unless its for you
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Mitskuni Haninozuka “Honey”
“(YYYY/NNNN)! I have some cake for you!” 
Not many are strong like you or as disciplined
But that doesn’t beat how sweet you are 
Sweeter than cake!
He just can’t get enough
But he’s an experienced fighter 
He knows the look of vengeful anger
Who IS IT?!
He’ll make sure they never breathe again.
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sinnersweets · 27 days
Text
DogDay x Reader part 14
<-----part 13, part 15----->
A/N: It's here....it's finally here!!
The alarm that I had set off started going off. I snapped awake and shut it off. Rubbing my eyes I sighed and said, “Come on Y/N, time to get moving.” I pulled the blanket off me and went to go change out of my pajamas.  
--------------- 
I pulled up to the factory and sat in my car gripping onto the steering wheel. Was I really going to go into the factory after hours and try to find DogDays contract? And possibly the other contracts of the Smiling Critters? My palms were feeling sweaty. ‘Don’t sike yourself out’ I kept thinking in my head. I shut off my car and made my way inside the factory. 
Normally employees couldn’t get in now, but since I’m a helper, I have clearance to get into the building at any time I want. Though I’m only supposed to use this little clearance when I need to give DogDay a bath but that’s beside the point! I scanned my badge and was let inside the building. 
Since the cable car made a lot of noise, I decided to take the stairs to Playcare. I wasn’t really in a rush like last time so I would carefully go down the stairs this time. As I made my way down the steps, I couldn’t help but feel like I was being watched. Then again, there was hardly any light in this area so something or someone most likely could be watching me right now. If I get caught, I could just lie and say that I left my phone here or something.  
--------------- 
Thankfully nothing interrupted me going down the eighteen flights of stairs, so I quietly pushed open the door that led into Playcare and looked around. The lights were shut off. Gotta say this place looked a little creepy without lights. I shuffled past the door, being sure to prop it open with a fake rock. I quietly made my way down the hill of tables and chairs carefully avoiding running into them.  
Maybe I’m being paranoid, but I could’ve sworn that I saw a shadow move over from the Playhouse. Part of me wanted to check it out but I shook my head and focused on the task at hand.  
I made it to the counselor's office and as soon as I was about to open the door, a purple tail wrapped around my ankle. “Uh oh.” Within seconds I was yanked into the air and met with CatNap laying down on the roof of the building. “Hey buddy. Haven't seen you in a while.” I said smiling but also feeling a little scared. CatNap didn’t say anything to me, only tilting his head to the side. “You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here, and I have a good reason for that so could you please put me down?” CatNap moved me over next to him and set me down still having his tail wrapped around my ankle.  
“Not what I meant with that but okay.” “Friend.” I looked at him expecting him to say something else, but he didn’t. “Not much of a talker huh? That’s okay. Listen, I’m going to tell you something but promise me you won’t tell DogDay okay?” CatNap nodded his head slowly. I then whispered to CatNap, “I’m trying to find a way to get all of you guys out of contract with Playtime. That’s why I’m here.” CatNap just continued to stare at me, not saying anything. Suddenly, the grip that CatNap had on my ankle tightened. I looked at CatNap and his whole presence shifted. “The prototype will save us. Not you.” Huh? Who was the prototype? “Anyone who gets in the way-” CatNap then moved me up into the air and out from the roof. As I was being held upside down, I had a feeling what he was about to do. “Hey hey! We’re friends! Please don’t drop me please!” I whispered to him but was also yelling at him. “-Is a heretic. You are a heretic, friend.” 
He loosened his grip on my ankle. When I was falling it seemed to happen in slow motion. My mind was racing. ‘Do something!’ ‘Tuck your head in!’ As I got closer and closer to the ground, I tucked my body close together and hit the ground, rolling down the hill. I protected my head, but the rest of my body was badly sore, and I got the air knocked out of me. I don’t know how I managed to keep quiet through all this. I soon came to the bottom of the hill and unrolled my body.  
I laid still for a good few minutes. ‘What do I do now? My whole body is aching.’ I thought to myself. I could hear CatNap jump off the roof and start walking towards me. My body was completely numb. ‘Come on! Get up! Get up now!’ I kept screaming that in my head. I then had the strength to move and got up while groaning. Even though my body was in pain I ran towards the door I came through. 
As I ran towards the door I didn’t dare look back behind me. I could just hear CatNap walking towards me so I knew he was chasing me. ‘Almost there! Keep going!’ I then saw that CatNap ran past me and up to the door. I stopped running and looked at him. He shut the door. The only way I could get out was now closed off. I held onto my body as it started aching more. ‘Where can I go?’ I quickly looked around and laid my eyes on the Playhouse. I could hide in there, but I’d have to move quickly. 
I took deep breaths before turning on my heels and running towards the Playhouse. 
--------------- 
It’s been three hours since I last saw CatNap. I looked at my phone and saw that it would be another two hours before Playtime opened, and the cable car would be brought down. The whole time has been a game of hide and seek with me and CatNap. I’d find a good place to hide and then he’d let out his red smoke around the area I was in, forcing me to move. I was tired and needed to rest.  
When I was running away from CatNap I stumbled into a new area in Playcare that I had never seen. It was a room and along the sides were cells. I could hear breathing, or rather snoring coming from up ahead. I limped over to check out what or who was making that noise. Looking into the cells, I could see the noises came from the Smiling Critters. What were they doing here? Is this where they slept? I immediately noticed that DogDay wasn’t here; but there were two empty cells. I’m guessing one is for DogDay and the other one is for CatNap. I had a lot of questions in that moment, but I heard movement from behind me. I froze, fearing that CatNap had found me. There was nowhere I could go. I was trapped. 
I fell to the floor and silently cried. ‘I knew I shouldn’t have done this. This was a stupid idea.’ “Angel?” I shot my head up and turned around and saw that it was DogDay. “Angel what are you doing here?” He looked at me and realized something was wrong with me. “What happened to you?” I tried getting up but once I did, I fell back onto the ground. “Angel?!” DogDay ran over to me and picked me up. “Talk to me Angel, what’s wrong?” “CatNap....I think he’s trying to..kill me.” When I spoke, it hurt. DogDay looked very confused which I understood. I just told him that his best friend is trying to kill me. Before DogDay could say anything else I said, “I tried to leave, but couldn’t. I-” “Shh. Don’t talk. I think I hear him coming.”  
--------------- 
 DogDay motioned me to stay quiet as he carried me out of the Playhouse. Thankfully we didn’t run into CatNap; though that could’ve meant he was out wandering outside. Luck was on our side as there was no sign of CatNap anywhere. 
DogDay took me into my office and laid me down on his bed. “It’s alright Angel, you’re safe now.” I closed my eyes and tried to steady my breathing. “Now tell me what’s going on.” I didn’t want to tell him like this but might as well rip the band aid off now. “Okay, I’ll tell you. But please...bear with me as it hurts to breathe right now.” DogDay nodded and held onto my hand. “Friday is my last day here. Since I adopted Damian, I can no longer work here...and I didn’t know about that until Stella showed me in the email that I got when I was hired. That being said....I won’t be able to see you anymore...but I didn’t want that to happen so I thought if I could get a hold of your contract...and destroy it or something...you could come with me and Damian...I came here to look for it but CatNap caught me and called me a heretic and then dropped me from the top of this building... I tried leaving but he closed the only exit I had so I ran and hid from him.” 
Never before had I seen DogDay look so angry. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before breathing out and opening his eyes. “Angel, I’m sorry that you went through all that. CatNap is not himself at the moment, however that is no excuse for what he has done to you. Rest assured that I will have a talk with him. Onto other things, I already knew that you would be leaving at the end of the week, Ms. Stella told me. She wanted me to look for another helper, but I don’t want to. I want to be with you and Damian out in the real world.” 
DogDay got up and went over to my desk and picked up a file and brought it over to me. I reached out, grabbed it and gasped when I looked inside. Inside was his contract along with all the other Smiling Critters. This is just what I needed! “How did you- where did you get these?!” DogDay smiled at me while saying, “I’m not supposed to leave this area but I overheard a couple of staff members talking about contracts and where they were placed so I snuck out and fetched this for you. I know you only needed mine, but I would hate to leave behind my friends.” I looked up to him and smiled and said, “I was thinking the very same thing. It wouldn’t be fair if only you got to experience life outside of here.” DogDay raised an eyebrow and smiled while saying, “What are you getting at Angel?” “I was planning on having everyone here join us. I want to open my own orphanage and have everyone here come along.”  
DogDay seemed a little confused from my plan so once I explained it to him, he seemed to be on board! “You really think it’ll work Angel?” “I have no idea, but I have to try.” “I’ll do everything I can in here while you take care of things out there.” I nodded before yawning. “Seems like someone is tired. Might I recommend you get some sleep on the best pillow ever?” I playfully rolled my eyes and said, “I wouldn’t want to sleep without my favorite pillow.”  
DogDay then carefully picked me up and laid down on his back before he placed me on his chest. “Comfy?” I nodded yes and closed my eyes, feeling my body relaxed after all this time. DogDay kissed the top of my head and before I fell asleep, I heard him say, “Sleep well, my Angel.” 
A/N: Who remembers when DogDay first said that to us? (This part went through so many changes which is why it took so long so post again I'm sorry for the delay but lemme know how this one is :D)
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merrygay · 2 months
Text
“Ah ah… What did you say ?”
Alastor x reader
Warning : NSFW, Dacryphilia, Dark Themes, cannibalism, Alastor is a Warning himself. English is not my first language. I’m bad at writing synopsis. I’m bad at writing in general in fact.
Synopsis : Innocent reader tries to make a deal with Vox in order to protect herself from Alastor.
Other : Lovely ; Alastor x reader
(Sorry for the long delay, college is kicking my ass)
————————————————————————
It’s been a week since the incident with Alastor happened, he hadn’t touched you since or even come your way.
Though you still tried to avoid him like the plague, every time you saw him, around the corner, in the living room, anywhere, you just quickly run away for dear life.
You were scared, what if this time he eats you for good ? What if he does the same thing he did last time and then proceed to eat you at the same ? You were getting paranoid at this point.
Seeing your small figure scare away from him like the pretty prey that you are made him grin even wider. He was clearly enjoying this, enjoying you, at first he hated that he lost control to a miserable thing like you, but as time passes the idea of a plaything didn’t seem to bother him anymore, especially when he was this hungry.
You've tried to forget what happened, you've really tried, but every night when you're alone in bed, you can't help yourself.
The pulsating feeling between your legs won’t stop, oh poor you, it gets even worse when the image of his head between your legs becomes clearer, his tongue unashamedly licking the most intimate part of your body, making a mess of himself with your juices as they drip from your sensitive pussy while you moan and whimper.
An innocent thing like you can’t even understand why you are feeling like this.
You rub your thighs to cease the sensation the same sensation you felt when he did this forbidden thing to you but it doesn’t work, you keep whining until you finally fell asleep.
You had to find a solution and quick, you don’t know when he’s going to jump on you again and this time eat you for good.
So Here you were, in front of the building of nonetheless than the Vees. It was a dumb idea let’s be honest here. Each step you take to get closer to the doors makes your heart beats faster. Making a deal with Vox must be better than being killed by Alastor right ? Right ?
_
“You want me to do what now ?”
The man in front of you, with a flat-screen TV for a face, looked at you as if you'd said the stupidest thing in the world.
“Why would I make a deal with an employee of this stupid fucking hotel huh ?”
You swallow nervously at his answer, playing with your fingers as you try to avoid his piercing gaze.
“I-I need to make a deal with you because I heard you are the only one who is as strong as Alastor-“
Vox smiles widen as he seems to like the compliment, “Ahah. Go on, continue I don’t have the whole fucking day” he says tapping against his office table.
You then proceed to explain, trying to avoid some of the… more embarrassing details.
he begins to laugh… laugh ? Why is he laughing ?
“You’re telling me that you are the new toy of Alastor”
He pauses for a second smiling devilishly while looking at you from head to toe
“You know what I’ll make deal with you, stealing Alastor fucking food is much more fun I can’t wait to see the face of this old prick when-”
His TV face starts to vibrate, you could see it was one of the other Vees calling. He puts the call in one of his other TV.
“Hello there, Velvet. How are you this Hellish morning”, in stark contrast to Vox lively greeting, Velvet response was one of pure annoyance.
“Cut the shit vox, i need you up here NOW. Your little boy toy is wracking my department while I tried to put together a show !”
Other voices could be heard behind her notably Valentino’s who was cursing around, yelling and destroying the entire department. Velvet ends the call without giving Vox any chance to say something.
Vox’s smiling face drops, he lets out a loud sigh.
“Here I was.. excited for something… anyway come this afternoon, so we can finalize our deal, I have a fire to put out upstairs”
With that, you leave the building, and quickly go back to the hotel avoiding the sinners running around and killing each other.
-
You open the doors, but it's strangely quiet - maybe they've gone out, you wonder. You climb the stairs back to your room, but when you finally reach the corridor, you suddenly hear a static sound.
“Are you still going to avoid me hmm ?”
You hear that familiar voice, filtered through the radio, with that all-too-familiar smile. He appeared right in front of you. You flinch and take a few steps back, your legs ready to run in the opposite direction.
He chuckles, his smile widening, awnnn how cute, you're still this scared of him.
“Now now don’t be scared, I just want to have a little chat with you” he says while turning around. Alastor was now walking towards your room Insinuating you to follow him.
“N-no ! I’m not going to, you should stay away from me, I made a deal with Vox !”
As those words settles in, the corridor seemed to shrink, suffocating you in a claustrophobic embrace.
The lights starts to flicker casting grotesque shadows on the peeling wallpaper.
A sudden chill permeated the air, causing goosebumps to rise on your already trembling skin.
“Haha.. What did you say ?” His voice took on a deeper timbre through his radio filter.
An oppressive weight settled over the corridor, squeezing the breath from your lungs and filling your minds with irrational fear.
He turns to you, his predatory eyes shining through the flickering lights. Each step seemed to echo with ominous intent while he grew taller and taller and his antlers increased in size.
"Do you really think he can keep me away from you? I don't think you really understand the situation you're in, my dear… You're my plaything, my prey and my meal. If you utter those stupid words again... I'll end Vox's life and broadcast his screams for every disrespectful wreck who dares to take what's MINE”
You were on the floor, you shaky legs were to weak to stand on their own, while Alastor’s glowing eyes pierced through your soul.
"Have I made myself clear?" He asks, leaning slightly so that his face is close to yours. You nod, lips pressed together, too scared to speak.
He tilted his head, his eyes softened, but the smirk that played on his lips refused to yield, a silent mockery that belied his gentle gaze.
In stark contrast to the anger that had consumed him mere moments ago, his voice now returned to its normal tone as he uttered the words “good girl” while petting your head.
The transition was jarring, as if a storm had suddenly given way to a calm, clear sky, leaving those around him bewildered by the sudden shift in his demeanor.
He straighten up and turns his back to you “Come now, I don’t know for you my dear but all that action has worked up quite an appetite, I'm absolutely famished !” he chuckles darkly as he starts walking towards your room.
He didn't give you time to get up, as one of his tentacles wrapped itself around your waist forcefully.
-
Next thing you know, Alastor was sitting at the edge of your bed, you straddling his lap facing him, with only your bra and skirt remaining still while your shirt was torn on the floor.
“You are terrible liar” Alastor force you to look at his smirking face.
“You didn’t make any deal .. yet” as he states those words without any warning he bites your neck, you let out a cry of surprise, you tried to get away, pushing him away in vain, he had one firm hand placed on your hips his claws digging in harder and harder each time you moved. Ironically his other hand holds yours in a romantic embrace, your fingers intertwined to his.
“Stay still, or I will devour you. You have no idea how much I’m restraining myself right now little one”, he can't help it, it's been a week since he's tasted you, since he's bitten your pretty little body, everything about you drives him crazy, your smell ahh your smell.
He goes back to your neck this time nestling there, inhaling deeply and then proceed to lick the spot he bit earlier, licking up the blood, his tongue started to go down, until he reached your breasts still covered with your bra, he looks up at you, smirking.
You were a trembling mess, your emotions swirled like a tempest, fear tightening your chest with every breath, embarrassment flooding your cheeks with a telltale blush. Yet amidst the chaos, a stirring of arousal sent shivers along your back, a well too familiar feeling between your thighs started to show up much to your dismay.
His hand, which was on your hips moved with a slow, deliberate, grace, gradually tracing a path upwards, each caress sending shivers down your spine until it reached the delicate lace of your bra.
His eyes were still staring into yours, drinking in your every reaction as his claws ripped the clasp of your bra, freeing your breasts for his hungry eyes to see.
You tried to cover them with your hand but He withdraws it “a-a”, he says sarcastically before his tongue trace a sensual path along your neck, gradually venturing lower and lower, your breath came in shallow gaps, each inhalation tinged with anticipation.
He finally reaches your chest, his tongue tracing precise circles around your nipples, you try to stifle your moans with your hand, but he suddenly bites your breast, making you cry out his name as he chuckles.
He continues for a while without ever ceasing to lick and bite, his hand still intertwined with yours, as you keep whimpering.
He was getting excited each sounds that came out of your mouth made him feral making his antlers grow and his eyes took on a predatory gleam, a never stopping hunger.
Without Warning, he forcefully lifted you from his lap, abruptly changing position as he pushed you down onto the bed, he slid your legs up onto his shoulders, giving him access to your thighs which he didn’t wait a minute before biting on it much more harder this time making you yelp in pain.
You watch his shark like teeth digging into the flesh of your skin, eliciting a crimson flow that trickled down you thigh, his tongue darted out to lap at the blood pooling around the wound, hungrily savoring again the metallic tang of the fluid.
“P-Please stop” you begged, tears rolling down your cheeks. He ignores your plead instead he keeps going, biting your other thigh, licking it and then taking another bite, while he slowly gets closer to your cunt.
His fingers played with the edge of your damp panties, teasing you. Your pussy was dripping wet. Your scent was intoxicating, everything about you was intoxicating, the way he was ruining you, both physically and mentally turned him on even more.
He abruptly ripped out your panties, your pussy was now exposed to him, it took him a lot of restraint for him not to eat you right fucking now, just like before.
His index finger teased a delicate trail along your belly, he descended lower his nail traced a deliberate scratch along your skin, igniting a surge of desire that pulsed through your vein.
You weren’t supposed to feel like this, but instead of hating it, you were desperate, one part you wanted him to touch your pussy, make you feel the same feeling of just pure bliss, and the other part, fear just pure fear.
“P-Please don’t go any lower” you plead again each word punctuated by a stifled sob, but it was too late, the demon before you was too intoxicated by your scent, by your wetness, your whole body really.
Again your pretty little mind had no idea about the struggle he was going through right now, struggling to restrain his cannibalistic impulses, and hearing your cries wasn’t helping at all, in the contrary, he derived such pleasure from your tears.
The way your puffy eyes would look at him, lips cutely pressed together, face flushed ahhh don’t blame him for acting out while you look this delicious.
“I want your soul” the demon says, before his finger applied gently pressure to your sensitive button, making you gasp in pleasure, he stroked circular motions over your clit heightened the pace, while watching your face which was trying not to moan but failed miserably.
“Let’s make a deal”, you were surprised by his sudden request “w-what” you stutters out, is he really suggesting it now ? Like right now in the middle of that ?
You couldn’t think straight you were too absorb by the pleasure he was providing you, you shake your head no, which made him stopped his movements making you whine, you look up at him, with that desperate look on your face.
Suddenly, he thrusts two fingers inside you, causing you to let out a moan of surprise at the sudden intrusion.
Alastor didn’t like the way you reacted to his request and it showed, as he pushes his fingers in and out with a forceful intensity.
He easily found your sweet spot, not letting you the time to process anything, you were a moaning mess at this point, clutching the sheets, fingers digging into the fabric while you begged him to slow down it was all too much for you.
“I will take you under my wig, and in exchange your soul would be mine forever” he declares.
Oh how ironic was it ? The problem himself proposing you this offer, it’s not like this morning you were literally trying to find a solution to get away from him.
You couldn’t reply back, only moans came out of that pretty mouth of yours making him chuckle, the intense heat that was building inside you, ready to be released at any moment was making you dizzy.
And then
He stops
Completely
Leaving you in a state of desperate longing, denied the released you craved.
“A-Alastor” you keep whining, moving your hips desperately.
“Accept my deal… just let it go” you couldn’t resist anymore you needed this so badly, you finally nod which made Alastor’s smile became more sinister as he starts to push his fingers in and out again, each stroke hitting your sweet spot harder, his other free hand comes towards yours to take, “it’s a deal then ?”.
The atmosphere changed drastically, Alastor form was becoming more demonic but you couldn’t care less at this point fear already consumed you, you were too absorb on reaching your climax now.
You hold his hand, nodding eagerly, moaning out a yes, and that’s all he needed to hear. Before you know it a collar appeared around your neck its chain dangling freely for Alastor to hold, which he does.
His fingers was buried deep inside your pussy while his other hand grasped the chain of your collar, you were his now forever there’s no going back.
Your body quivered with anticipation as you were reaching you peak, your tried to speak but your words were incoherent, but Alastor knew what you were about to say.
He suddenly buried his face between your legs, his fingers remaining inside you pumping in and out rapidly, while his tongue was devouring your pussy as if each taste was his last.
Your arched your back and with a shuddering gasp your body convulsed letting waves of pleasure washing over you, your moans getting louder as you finally came.
Your juices were all over his mouth and fingers. He eagerly took all in swallowing it without hesitation, while you were laying there panting and whimpering trying to regain some sense.
Alastor straighten himself, pulling out his fingers and bringing it to his mouth to lick it clean while fixing you with an intense gaze.
After regaining some sort of composure, a flicker of realization crossed over your features “n-n-n-noo what have I done !”, your voice rise in panic as you seat up, which made Alastor laugh with mockery each chuckle making you realize even more in what situation you were in now.
You tried to get off the bed but the grip that had Alastor on the chain held you firmly in place.
“Oh my dear, but I’m not done yet” he says before slamming you back into the bed.
Indeed he wasn’t done yet.
———————————————————————
It’s 3 am and I hope what I wrote made sense
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fuck-customers · 4 months
Note
Kind of a fuck customers but also a satisfying story at the same time.
My role in the call center I work in involves taking specifically corporate calls, which means I spend all day talking to “business professionals” (and I use that term loosely) including CEOs. As you can imagine, over 90% of these CEOs are the scum of the earth and the most entitled assfaces on the planet.
A week or so ago, I took a call and went through my usual routine of greeting the cardholder and then began going over verification questions. Since we’re A.) a bank and B.) a bank that handles corporate and government credit cards, we take security seriously and require a caller to be able to verify 3 pieces of information based on what the person responsible for their credit cards put on the account. If they don’t pass, we refer them to their company to get the right details.
So as I’m doing this, the guy on the phone is getting increasingly irritated as he keeps getting the security questions wrong. I’m calm and professional the entire time but firm. Eventually I run out of things to verify with him and tell him that we won’t be able to assist and that he needs to contact his administrator. This is apparently where I went wrong.
“LADY I AM THE ADMINISTRATOR!!” He screeches. Ok, great. I look him up and that’s true but there’s a second admin listed, so I ask him to check in with him. He then yells “THERE IS NO OTHER ADMIN! I’M THE CEO OF THIS COMPANY FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!!”
I apologize and tell him while that may be true, he still got his security questions wrong and needs to reach out to his account coordinator then. This man then proceeds to scream at me for the next minute or so saying how we’re an awful bank, how he’s had problems with us for years, blah blah and how we have the worst customer service ever. Keep in mind, I’ve been nice and empathetic this entire time but also I’m not gonna lose my fucking job just because a guy in a suit doesn’t know his shit. I give him the email to his account coordinator and stress again that he needs to talk to them. Then this exchange happens:
Him: “So let me get this straight. You are saying you are REFUSING and UNWILLING to help me, right?
Me: “No, actually I’d love to help you, however we have these security procedures in place for yours and your company’s protection and cannot make exceptions for anyone.”
Him: “This is fucking UNBELIEVABLE! I’ve HAD IT with this bank!!”
Me: “Ok, I’m sorry to hear that. Anything else I can do for you before we disconnect?”
Him: “WHAT IS YOUR NAME? I NEED YOUR NAME. NOW.”
Me: *gives my first name and spells it for him even though it’s a very basic 4 letter name because I’m a bitch*
Him: YOUR LAST NAME.
Me: “We don’t give out anything but our first name for the safety of our employees.”
Him: *insert that condescending, pissed off chuckle middle aged men do when they’re mad here* “Well I’ll tell you what (My Name), when I close this account and pull my MILLIONS OF DOLLARS out of (bank name) and they ask me why, I’ll make sure to tell them that it’s (My Name)’s fault. And I will see to it that you won’t be able to get another job outside of the minimum wage fast food job or whatever you had before this. How does that sound?”
Me: “Sounds great. Now seeing as how this conversation is no longer productive or professional and threats are being made, I’ll be terminating the call, have a nice day.”
Him: “DO NOT HANG UP O-“
Me: *click*
And that’s how making rich, powerful men rage-cry became my new favorite hobby. Thankfully, I haven’t gotten any feedback on that call; not that I would, seeing as how I did my job exactly how I was supposed to. Anyways I hope I’m his 13th reason. ❤️
Posted by admin Rodney.
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dem-obscure-imagines · 3 months
Text
For the Longest Time
Steve Rogers x Reader
Fandom: MCU
Summary: In 1943, Steve was visited by his soulmate, a girl from the future who already knew him. Decades later, after waking up in a brave new world, Steve meets his soulmate again, except she hasn’t met him yet. And she won’t travel to 1943—or know he’s her soulmate—for another year.
Note: This is a continuation/prequel/whatever you wanna call it to A Long, Long Time, a Steve Soulmate AU I wrote a while back. Long story short, I watched Knives Out again and got Steve Rogers brainrot. Happens to the best of us. I might write a third part if there’s interest…
Warnings: Canon-typical violence
Word Count: 2.2k
Reader Is: Steve’s Soulmate, Super-Powered, Female
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Steve remembered the day you’d met—for the second time, though he didn’t realize that right away—like it was tattooed on his brain. It was a few years after he’d come out of the ice and he had taken Tony’s advice to get out more, which had led him to the mall.
By some stroke of fate, it happened to be the day a pyromaniac with a flamethrower was there, but before he could even spring into action, you did, hands out in front of you and what seemed to be an invisible shield poised there, redirecting the flames and protecting the teenage movie theater employee that had nearly been caught in the crossfire.
A quick flick of your wrist knocked the attacker’s gun out of his hands, giving Steve the opportunity to step in and apprehend the guy.
You sat on a bench after, breathing heavy, a cut on your forehead from the shattered glass of the skylight. The paramedics were taking care of the civilians, and Steve wandered right over, impressed.
“Are you alright, ma’am?” He asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just glad everyone is okay.” You told him, meeting his eyes.
He finally got a good look at you and froze, looking bewildered. A deer in headlights. “You’re…”
It was you. Of course it was you. Since the moment he’d been unfrozen, he’d been looking for you. His soulmate. The girl from the future that popped in on his twenty-fifth birthday, turned his whole life on its head, and then left without warning, hours after their first kiss. Back when he was five-foot-nothing with asthma and more medical conditions than he could even remember.
Back before he was anything.
And you’d loved him anyway. You’d given him the day of a lifetime and hope for not only a future, but for love. That someone could love him for him despite it all.
“I know.” You knew? “I…I don’t know what it is or…why I can do it.”
Your powers, you meant. You thought he was talking about your powers and not your name, which was burning a hole into his wrist beneath the thick leather band keeping it hidden.
“Right. Well, it’s…” He sighed, gathering his words, hiding the elation and pain behind a warm smile. “It’s a good thing you were here. I don’t have my shield on me.”
“Mine is built in.” You chuckled.
“You, uh…have a cut. On your forehead.”
“Oh, do I?” You reached up and found it with your fingers and they came away a bit bloody. “Shit.”
“Come on.” He offered you his hand and you took it, letting him lead you over to the counter of the theater. “Hi, do you have a first aid kit?”
“Yeah, of course.” The girl at the counter said, rushing to grab it.
Steve patched you up with gentle hands, off in a corner on your own. Staring up at him, you finally realized the obvious. This was Captain America. And he was using a careful finger to spread a triple antibiotic ointment on your cut.
Play it cool, (Y/N).
“Do you do this often? The hero thing?” Steve asked.
“No.” You shrugged. “Haven’t had much opportunity thankfully. I mean…I’d like to, I just didn’t know how to…get into it, I guess. Any email I sent to Stark or S.H.I.E.L.D. or whatever would end up on a slush pile.”
“Well, I’ve got some connections. If you’re seriously considering it. I can’t say I recommend it, but…Obviously you’ve got that protective instinct and you seem to work well under pressure.”
“My heart is about to leap out of my chest.” You admitted, laughing as he carefully laid a Bandaid over the cut, closing the kit.
“That makes two of us.”
“But, yeah, if you think I’m really cut out for it…I’d love to help.”
***
It was those words that sealed your fate. Three days later, someone from Stark Industries got in contact with you and before you knew it, you were on a plane to the Avengers’ remote facility in Upstate New York with a bag full of clothes, a handful of books, and a dream. You met the others, Wanda, Natasha, Bruce. Eventually Bucky came into the mix, too, Steve’s friend from before the ice who…had a staring problem, you were pretty sure. He kept looking at you, seemingly bewildered you were there.
You never did figure out why.
After a particularly tricky mission in rural Kentucky, you had landed yourself in the infirmary, taking a pretty long nap complete with an IV and a heartrate monitor.
It was Nat that found Steve in there, wringing his hands, tears in his eyes. It was the one secret he still had: you were his soulmate and wouldn’t know it for another six months. Your name had been etched onto his wrist for seventy years, through the transformation, through the ice, through everything.
“She’s gonna be okay, Steve. Bruce thinks she might wake up soon.” Nat comforted, sitting in the chair next to him. She put a hand on his shoulder, confused by her friend’s sudden mood.
“I know, I just…” He shook his head. “I’m worried about her is all.”
Nat pressed her lips together, tilting her head. “This seems like a little more than that. You wanna tell me what’s really going on?”
That was her super power, he remembered. She was a human lie detector.
“I can, just…not here.” Steve nodded, leading her out of the room, out of your earshot, but still in sight thanks to the soundproof windows.
Nat’s hands settled on her hips, waiting for an answer. Instead, Steve took the cuff off of his wrist and held it out to her, letting her read the letters that had been etched there for the better part of a century.
Her jaw dropped. She stammered, arms crossing. She met his eyes and when she saw the sadness there, the guilt and longing, her expression softened.
“I should have told her. A long time ago, I should have told her but I can’t. In six months, on her twenty-fifth, she’s going back in time to 1943 to meet me on mine. And it…didn’t seem like she knew until she was already there.”
“So you’ve just been holding it in this whole time?” Natasha asked. “You’ve been in love with her…”
“Since the forties, yeah.” Steve nodded. “My great lost love, as Tony likes to call her when he rags on the band I wear.”
“Does he know?”
“No. Just you. And Bucky.” Steve amended. “He was there when she…”
“Right. Weird.” Natasha let out a long sigh, looking through the window. “Well do you need any help with that? I can get some information out of her. I’ll be super subtle, I promise.”
“I don’t know. She probably thinks my soulmate is dead, too.”
“Ironic.”
“No kidding.” Steve sighed. “Well, I guess if she says anything, let me know. It’s kind of a relief someone else knows.”
“We’ll get you through it, Steve. Six more months. That’s nothing.”
“Yeah.” Steve gazed longingly through the window. “I’m gonna sit with her for a while. I don’t want her to wake up alone.”
He slinked back into the infirmary and sat in the chair beside your bed, watching your steady breaths and listening to the beeping of the heart monitor. Natasha watched him through the window, heart strings pulled as tight as they’d ever been. Her best friend was in love and there was almost nothing he could do about it.
***
Three months later, you, Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Nat got snowed in on a mission in Alaska. The little cabin you’d been sent to was unreachable by any of the jets the team could send and besides, it wasn’t worth the risk of Clint or someone getting stuck out there in this.
But despite the fireplace raging with fresh-chopped wood, you were still shivering, all wrapped up for the night.
Steve watched you, forlorn. Natasha nudged him, motioning towards you. He chuckled and shook his head. He couldn’t. Right? What, take advantage of you in your vulnerable state.
Bucky seemed to agree with Nat, grinning into his mug of coffee, giving him some caffeine for his night watch.
Steve got up off of his seat, walked towards the fireplace and adjusted the logs, adding another small one for good measure. He looked back at the others, who were aggressively encouraging him to go over to you, and gave in.
He knelt down in front of you, clearing his throat, which caused you to jolt awake.
“Is everything okay? Are we under attack?”
Steve chuckled. “No, uh, we’re all good. Are you cold?”
“Kind of, yeah.” You admitted. “I’ll be okay, though, I promise.”
“Do you…want some company?” He asked, unsure of how to word it. “I…run warm.”
“Do you mind?” You asked, sitting up a little.
His heart raced. This was going better than he thought. “Here, um…” He raised the blanket on top of you and wiggled in underneath you, letting you lead as the two of you settled.
“God, you do run warm.” You hummed, all but collapsing against him, a hand flat against his chest while you adjusted.
“I didn’t always.” He said, voice sincere. “Buck and I used to have to share a bed in the winter. It was brutal.”
“Sounds like it.”
“Yeah, he snores.” Steve joked, earning a laugh.
“Oh I know. I can hear him three doors down back at home.”
“And I can hear you from the other room!” Bucky called, sending you and Steve into a fit of giggles, like kids at a sleepover. “It’s a small cabin.”
You heard him and Sam devolve into a bickering match about the truth of whether or not Bucky actually snored that loud.
You looked up at Steve, asking “is it okay if I put my arm here?” while carefully draping an arm across him.
“Yeah, of course.” He nodded, leaning against the pillows and pulling the blanket up around your shoulders.
You rested your head on his firm chest, listening to the way his heart was racing. Cute.
The drowsiness took over almost immediately, his warmth lulling you to sleep after a long day undercover out in the snow. You were asleep in minutes, breaths slow and long and even.
But once he was absolutely sure you were out, Steve pressed the gentlest kiss to your forehead, grateful beyond words to have you in his arms again.
***
“You thought today was her birthday???” Natasha asked, incredulous in the kitchen.
“I got nervous!” Steve defended. “I saw it on her whiteboard in front of her door and I thought—”
“I think Scott wrote that the last time he was here. He keeps track of all of that.”
“Doesn’t surprise me.” Steve replied, shaking his head. “Well, does she have any birthday plans?”
“Yeah, Wanda and I are taking her out shopping this afternoon. Tony gave her his card. And then the party tomorrow night.”
Steve nodded. “Okay, good. That buys me some time.”
“You got a plan?”
“I’ve had a plan.” Steve admitted. “Been sitting on it for about seventy years, in fact.”
***
You got out of bed, got dressed, and headed to the mall with Natasha and Wanda. The same mall, in fact, that you and Steve had met in the first place.
“Where was it?” Wanda asked, wearing a very fashionable pair of shades.
“Right over there.” You pointed to the spot in front of the movie theater, up on the second floor of the mall. “Guy with a flamethrower and a dream. He’s in jail now.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what you get when you dream of arson.” Nat said, causing you and Wanda to laugh.
You shopped around for clothes, got some pretzels at the Wetzels, and window shopped. You already had what you were pretty sure you were going to wear the following night. It wasn’t every day one of the Avengers turned twenty five and met their soulmate. Tony was determined to make it a spectacle. He had a habit of doing that, it seemed.
In the food court, you seemed kind of down, chin resting against your fist. Wanda picked up on it first.
“It will all be okay, (Y/N). There is nothing to worry about.”
“Yeah, I know, I just…I don’t know. I’m stressed about it. Tomorrow I get the answer to the question I’ve been asking for twenty-five years. I just can’t believe it’s almost here. And…I don’t know, there’s just a lot of variables. What if they don’t like me?”
“Come on, (Y/N), what’s not to like?” Natasha said, digging her spoon into her blizzard from the Dairy Queen.
“I don’t know…It’s just a lot to think about.” You said, leaving it at that. You didn’t know how to begin to explain to them that you had feelings for someone already, one of your coworkers no less, and someone who already had a soulmate, despite the fact that he’d lost her nearly a century before.
You wondered why Steve never looked for her. Or maybe she’d passed before he even resurfaced. It was sad. A guy like that didn’t deserve the heartbreak. He deserved to be loved.
The three of you finished your shopping trip and then returned to the Facility, where you unpacked the new odds and ends you’d acquired. Steve checked on you again, offering you words of wisdom, a comforting hug. He promised that your soulmate would love you, whoever they were.
Little did you know, he already did.
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sweetnsour1 · 10 months
Text
11:20
Fluff, Bakugou x fem reader
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“I think you’ve got enough at home.”
You shook your head, an instinctive negation as you kept your eyes on the table in front of you, searching for something less floral and more…”not if you’re gonna be on mission for two weeks.” You grabbed a third pack of incense, finally settling on a few scents that’d be closest.
He raised an eyebrow as you paused at the corner of the display, grabbing a fourth scent. “You tryna burn the house down while I’m gone?”
“Aren’t you the only one who’s set off the smoke detectors?”
“That was one time.” You checked his pout and flush, before turning away again with a smile.
“Told those idiots I didn’t want a surprise party.” He brought his red eyes down from their eye roll to see you now had six boxes. “But seriously, planning my funeral?”
“Wouldn’t we be getting confetti instead? Thought you wanted a parade for that?”
“Obviously, it’s important to let the city grieve their favorite hero.” He held out his hand, easily taking hold of what had been in your arms into his palm. “Seriously though, why so much?”
It was your turn to pout as you fumbled away to grab a new lighter. You startled at his breath against your neck. “Come on, brat. Tell me.” You shook him off, only to turn and have a heavy palm covering up the glare you tried to send him. “Don’t look at me like that until we get home, beautiful.”
“You started it.” You hissed as your hands moved to protect your neck. His hand slid down, poking at the air you had chipmunked into your cheeks.
“Tell me. Ya know I’m gonna get annoying.”
“You’ll be more annoying if I tell you.”
“Oh?” You stepped back as he moved toward you.
“Wait, I didn’t mean it. It’s nothing, I swear.”
“Doesn’t sound like nothin’.” His next step stopped short as a clerk rounded the corner.
“Are you two still finding everything alright?”
“Yep, thank you. I’m actually ready to check out.” You slid the incense from Katsuki’s grip as you followed the employee to the front of the store.
Check out was almost as usual. No matter how fast you tried to be, his phone was scanned before you could grab yours to pay. However, there was a noticeable absence of him chuckling as you tried to beat him. No attempts of him to touch or poke at you as you finished. Just a silent reach for the incense you didn’t need a bag for.
You felt your temper rising. The bastard was actually gonna try moping about it? You couldn’t remember him using this method before. Had he picked it up from Todoroki?
Halfway into leaving the parking lot, and you couldn’t take it. The weird fussy silence from him was unsettling. He normally had no problem badgering you or letting it go. This in-between was awful.
“Oh my god. Fine!” The car stopped as he looked at you with wide eyes. “It’s because you’ll be gone and my house won’t-“ you mumbled the rest of the words into your sleeve as you turned to stare out at the window.
“Your house won’t what?”
“Smell.”
“I make your house…smell?”
“Yes.”
“Oh…sorry.”
You flinched at the soft pain in his voice. The words had tumbled out of you sharper than you’d intended, only to be misunderstood. You did your best to climb over the obstacle that was the ever-growing knot of your embarrassment. You tried again, speaking slowly and more carefully.
“Ughhh, no…no, I mean it won’t smell…like you when you’re gone.”
“Yea I get it, I’ll shower before coming over from work. Sorry, beautiful.” You batted away the hand trying to pat your head.
“No, idiot. I mean these come close…to smelling like…you.” His hand froze in the space between you as his sad smile morphed into an infuriatingly wide grin.
“Ohhh? So I shouldn’t ever shower after work?”
“Well, don’t be gross about it.” You moved his hand back to the steering wheel. He laughed, but resumed driving.
“I mean I could roll around on the rugs before I leave if you want.”
“You’re the worst.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look anywhere else but out the window, so you almost didn’t hear the softer words float toward you…barely more audible than the music playing from your phone to his car.
“I’ll miss you too.”
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Masterlist
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vesppperoro · 17 days
Text
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Hazbin Hotel Cast with Sin of Envy!Reader (Pt.2)
Includes: Vox, Valentino, Velvette, Rosie.
Info: The reader has a similar appearance to Glitz and Glam from Helluva Boss! They are also based on a sea serpent. This can be read as platonic or romantic. Reader is named Leviathan, but will use Name. Similarly to how Asmodeus uses Ozzie/Ozzy. The reader is also assumed to have shape shifting abilities.
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Vox
He didn’t really care all too much about you at first.
He did, however, care when you started taking out some of his employees.
He couldn’t do anything since he couldn’t travel to the Envy ring, so he fumed to the other Vees.
He thought you were just a sinner from the Envy ring, so he wanted to kill you.
When you showed up at his building and demanded to speak to him, he was finally happy that he could end your life.
That was until he saw how big you were and the sigil on your chest.
He was fucked.
You proposed that you two make a deal. Not for his soul, since he’d deny, but a small deal to keep him from running into the ground or dying.
Your support in exchange for some of his own souls and fame.
He would’ve denied if it wasn’t for the fact that you were a sin. Your support could make him sky rocket!
He greedily accepted and you became the face of some of his products.
You two became closer since you worked together. He won’t admit it, but he was drawn to you.
Your power far exceeded theirs and he loved that.
If anyone opposed them, he knew you would end them and vice versa.
You sometimes came on his talk shows. Not only did this show that nobody could mess with him, but it also skyrocketed his business because no he had investors from the Envy realm.
Valentino
He was drawn to you, as he is to most of his sexy pornstars.
You’re a hottie with a body. That’s all he really cared about at first. A pretty face and a sexy build.
Before he learned you were the sin of Envy, he offered you a job. You declined, however.
But he did learn of your status through one of his stars. Immediately, he went to seek you out again.
He offered you a deal. Not for your soul, of course. In exchange for your support, he would do any favors needed for you.
You accepted. Having an overlord under your thumb could prove useful.
After this, you hung out at his place quite a bit.
The stars were very happy because you stopped most of his rages and got onto him whenever he hurt them.
You also met Angel Dust through this. You two became friends and you helped him whenever he needed.
Since you came around, their jobs have been A LOT easier.
You also skyrocketed his branch because you offered some of your own pornstars to him.
He was very glad you were on his side, but he still flirted with you.
Velvette
She was drawn to the way you dressed.
She knew who you were because a lot of her clothes were inspired by you.
She loved the way you looked too!
When you visited the Pride ring, she immediately went to find you.
She wanted to make a deal with you as soon as she found you. Not for either of your souls, but for something else.
She asked for your support in exchange for clothing made specifically for you. You accepted gleefully after seeing some of her designs.
You became the face of a new brand of clothing she made, “Levi’s”.
That brand became VERY popular, especially in the Envy ring.
She was glad you gave her your support. Now, she was making way more money than Vox.
She also split the profits of Levi’s with you.
You thanked her.
You would also protect her from businesses that tried to copy or take her down.
After the incident with the first copycat, people finally stopped after seeing your wrath.
It fuels her with pride whenever she brags about having a Sin on her side.
Rosie
She met you whenever you visited Cannibal Town. You had came because Alastor had told you that you’d find loyal subjects there.
She fell in love with the way you looked. Platonically.
She also loved how the Cannibals liked you as well!
Eventually, you started hanging out with them.
Rosie loved your company! She enjoyed your input when it came to stuff from her time period.
You also told her about your own people and how there were some nasties they could eat if they weren’t full.
She always laughed. Even though you may be older, she treated you like her daughter.
You may be stronger, but she always protected your honor.
You used your power to protect her people and her.
Eventually, the war came.
No Cannibal casualties.
Why? They were under your protection spell.
Rosie was thrilled about you helping her people.
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its-time-to-write · 9 months
Note
jamie and reader used to date before he went back to his old team and broke reader’s heart 💔 now he’s back and wants reader back ANGST AND FLUFF PLEASEEE
I’ve been thinking about this request since FOREVER so I hope I did it justice!!
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wonder what it’d be like
You don’t get paid enough for this shit.
“So you do know Jamie Tartt?” asks some journalist doing some piece on some footballer crap. You don’t know and you don’t care.
“If you’re not going to order anything, I’m going to get my boss and have you removed from the premises,” you reply, undeterred in your mission to wipe down empty tables. Brian loves his coffee shop and is fiercely protective of both his employees and his peaceful atmosphere. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s kicked someone out.
“Well, do you have any comment on the fact that he said you were the love of his life?”
You don’t miss a beat. “No I do not. Can I get you any coffee or should I get Brian?”
The journalist declines both, and is out the door.
Fucking Jamie Tartt. What does he even think he’s doing? How did you even come up in an interview? Was the question, who, Jamie Tartt, is the greatest love of your life?
(You’d find out later that yes, that was the question. The journalist was looking for an answer like “Keeley Jones,” or “Kiera Knightley,” something a little spicy.)
It doesn’t matter, the journalist (you think his name was Trent) is gone and you can go back to making coffee and chatting with the regulars.
You should have known that wasn’t the end of it.
God, why can’t you just work in peace? You have enough on your plate, between homework and student loans and the person who’s complaining that their iced coffee is “too cold.” 
You don’t need to add “prick footballer ex-boyfriend,” to the list.
But he seems bound and determined to add himself to your list of things to take care of, with the way he’s following you around as you hand people their orders.
“Trent said you wouldn’t talk to him,” he says.
He takes your silence as license to keep going. “Why didn’t you just take the money? Can’t be making much here.”
Do not let him get to you, you remind yourself. Do not sink to his level.
So you just shrug. “I’m not one of those people who fucks a famous footballer just for the money. Now I’m going to give you the same choice I gave that goddamn reporter: you can get a coffee or you can get. Out.”
So Jamie leaves.
It figures that your ex would find some way to make your life hell. Sure, you’ve gotten mostly over him and you have your own life and you’re on your way to becoming an accountant because numbers are fun and numbers don’t break your heart. So of course, now is when he decides to show up and have journalists poking around.
But you refuse to talk about him with anyone. It’s rude, in your opinion. It devalues your old relationship and yourself and you won’t do it.
So instead you stay after hours, going over finances at the café while Brian and his boyfriend chatter softly and try new coffee combinations.
You laugh as they bicker and and sip everything they set before you, grateful that you don’t have to think about the day Jamie got signed to Manchester City and decided that he was too good for you.
Unfortunately, you have to go home at some point, which means you’re wide awake in your bed, flatmates all asleep leaving you to replay that whole terrible day.
(He said, “It ain’t gonna work, babe, I’m in the Premier League now and I should be with someone who’s at my same level.”
You said, “Don’t call me babe.”
He said, “Don’t waste any tears over me, I won’t be crying so you shouldn’t either.”
You said, “I sure as hell won’t cry over a heartless dick like you.”
He said, “That’s a heartless Premier League dick to you.”
And that was it. A year-long relationship and four year-long friendship down the tubes.)
The article hits the papers and now you’re constantly being harassed by journalists. 
You read it, the part about you. It was written in interview format, with a bolded question and then Jamie’s response. It was like a glimpse into his personal life, who he was outside the pitch.
Jamie, you’ve had an astonishing career at such a young age, and made a name for yourself both on and off the pitch. Your name has been in the tabloids with many famous models and actresses in the few short years you’ve played in the Premier League. So my question is, in the history of your romantic entanglements, who is the absolute love of your life?
In your opinion, it was a long lead-up to a short question. 
Jamie’s response was two words. Your first and last name.
That fucker.
It makes work so bad that you had to hide in the back while Brian tells people to leave.
You apologize profusely once everything’s closed and everyone’s gone. 
“I’ll give you my official notice and everything, and I can still help out with finances if you want,” you say. “I’m- not trying to be annoying, but the extra money would be really helpful while I look for another job.”
Brian shakes his head. “I’m not firing you, kid,” he says. “It’ll die down. And Caleb and I are happy to have you over for dinner if you want to talk about it.”
You’re so relieved and grateful that you hug him.
It’s late again. You’re in your kitchen. All three of your flatmates are out and will be gone until the morning, so you have the flat all to yourself. You’ve lit some candles and turned on the soft lights, and are criss-cross on the counter listening to Fleetwood Mac with brownies in the oven.
You allow yourself to think about some of the questions that were thrown at you throughout the day.
How long have you known Jamie Tartt?
When was the last time you spoke?
Are you still friends?
You shake your head. Weird.
There’s a knock at the door. Even weirder. You’re not expecting anyone.
You hop down and pad down the hall, standing on tiptoe to peer through the peephole. It’s Jamie. You make a face, double-check that the door is locked, and turn back to the kitchen. 
“I know you’re there,” Jamie calls through the door. “I can see the light on, and your car’s out front. I just want to talk.”
You’re not going to open the door, but then he calls your name and you’re rooted to the floor.
You open the door just enough so you can look at him, but not enough that he thinks he can come inside.
“I can’t imagine what you’d have to say to me other than an apology, especially after the day I’ve had,” you say, more fire in your voice than you remembered you had.
The fire dies when you get a good look at Jamie’s face.
It’s different.
He looks… forlorn, almost?
“I do, I do have an apology,” he says. There’s no malice, no conniving look on his face. 
You say, “Ok,” in a tone so soft that Jamie could almost forget the anger you just held.
“Look,” he begins, but is cut off by your timer beeping in the kitchen. You sigh. 
“I have to get those,” you say. “Can’t burn down the flat. Do you… do you want to come in? Just for a minute.”
Jamie nods and follows you inside, closing the door behind him.
He follows you to the kitchen, close on your heels, where you motion for him to sit while you take out the brownies. 
“Right,” he says once you’re leaning on the counter across from him. “Look- I was a prick. I thought I was fucking special because my right foot was kissed by god. I didn’t know how to fucking handle it so I acted like a prick. And I never said I’m sorry.” He takes a breath. “Keeley’s always talkin’ about accountability, so… here I am. Taking fucking accountability.”
You just look at him.
“I’m not looking for forgiveness,” he hurriedly continues. “Just wanted you to know that I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry for hurting you.”
You’re still not talking, so Jamie gets up.
“Right,” he says. “Right. I’m going to leave ya now. Got fucking trainin tomorrow.”
He’s halfway down the hall when he turns and says, “Oh, by the way, I called your uni. Paid the rest of your tuition, gave them some extra in case you decide you want to keep going.” Then he turns around again and actually heads to the door.
For a moment, you’re too shocked to even move but the magnitude of what he just said sinks in.
“OI,” you bellow. Jamie freezes, hand on the door handle. 
“Get. Back here,” you say, voice tight.
“Jamie,” you say once he’s sitting again, “you can’t just pay my student loans. The whole reason I never talk to the press about you is because I don’t want to be like those people who just, like, use you for your money. I had it handled and I don’t need you thinking that I’m just- just- using you. And fuck off with saying that shit in a magazine,” you continue, “You can’t just use me to make yourself more family-friendly. Saying that you like the girl who works in a fucking coffee shop so she can get through school and become an accountant. I mean, what the fuck? Just say it was a model or an actress or something, but don’t use me, because I never used you.”
Jamie shakes his head. “But it’s not like that,” he says earnestly. “I know what you’re like. I know it ain’t about the money. That’s why I said what I said. You really are the love of me life.”
You’re silent, analyzing his face. There’s nothing that indicates he’s lying, and if you can claim to know Jamie at all, you’d have to admit that this might be the most sincere you’ve ever seen him.
All you can manage is a weak, “Oh.”
“I’m really, really sorry.”
“Yeah,” you reply, “you keep saying that. I forgive you. But that doesn’t mean that I want to be friends with you.”
Jamie nods. “Yeah, no I get that, yeah. Right. I’m not looking for that. I just needed you to know.”
You’re both silent for an awkward moment.
“Right,” Jamie says again. “Guess I’d better go. I’ll see you around, I guess.”
You nod, letting Jamie see himself out.
“So, you’re not taking him back?”
“Brian,” you say, “why the absolute fuck would I do that?”
He laughs. “I don’t know, if I had some handsome, rich young footballer come to me with an apology that I didn’t ask for, I’d’ve snapped him right up!”
“Don’t let Caleb hear you say that,” you warn.
Brian laughs again. “Oh hon, he’s heard me say so much worse.”
You snort then turn back to the column of numbers in front of you. It’s bright and early, thirty minutes before opening. That gives you twenty minutes to finish what you’re doing before sneaking out the back door. You’re scribbling in the margins in blue glitter pen when there’s a knock on the glass door. You frown.
“Who on earth is knocking?” you ask.
Brian shrugs. “No idea,” he replies as he goes to look.
The frown stays affixed to your face. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that Brian just lied.
He’s back a moment later.
“Think these are for you,” he says, arm full of flowers.
You drop your pen.
“What the hell,” you whisper. 
Brian just grins and places them on the table. “A nice young man in a pink tracksuit dropped them off. Said to give them to you and that he’ll have more tomorrow.”
“Fucker,” you hiss.
“Me or him?”
You glare. “Both. Either. I don’t care. Take these home to Caleb or put them around the shop. I’m leaving.”
You shuffle your papers together and flee the coffee shop, door banging behind you.
“Twat,” you whisper to no one in particular. 
Jamie’s delivered flowers every day for a week and a half and you’re not sure how he manages it, but he always avoids being caught by you. You’re not sure why he’s delivering them to your place of work, but you have a hunch that somehow, somehow Brian and Caleb are in on it.
It’s fucking annoying, really. They’re so beautiful and in all your favorite colors and you’re absolutely pissed off that he still knows anything personal about you.
You’re even more pissed off that you like it.
I mean, come on, he has your forgiveness; what more does he want?
The worst part is you actually miss him. You miss the Jamie you dated, the one you fell in love with but are not particularly fond of the Jamie who dumped you when he got signed for Man City. What’s to stop him from doing that again?
You decide you’re going to talk to him.
Brian brings in a particularly large bunch the next day and you’re on your feet in a flash. You’re out the door before he can ask where you’re going, but he doesn’t need to. He already knows. 
You look up and down the street. You know Jamie couldn’t have gotten far. 
You catch a flash of blonde hair zipping away to your right. 
“TARTT,” you bellow.
The blonde hair freezes as you march up the street.
Jamie turns and grins sheepishly, “Hey, love,” he says.
“Stop bringing me flowers. It’s fucking annoying.”
It might be Jamie’s imagination, but there seems to be slightly less rage in your eyes today.
“Thought you liked that sort of thing,” he says.
“I do,” you say, “usually. When I know why it’s happening. I don’t know why you’re doing it. You already paid my student loans and apologized. I don’t really know what else you want from me.”
“A second chance,” Jamie says promptly. “I weren’t kidding in the article. You can tell me to fuck off right now and I’ll leave you alone. Can’t promise that I’ll never hurt you again, but I can fucking guarantee it won’t be on purpose.”
You’re silent, giving Jamie the tiniest spark of hope.
“Fuck you,” you finally say. Jamie raises an eyebrow as you glare at him. “Fuck you for actually fucking changing. And for making me love you again. You’re all I can fucking think about and it’s been driving me crazy, and Brian’s been no help with all his, ‘you should call him,’ and ‘he seems like a good lad.’ He’s fucking right and I’m fucking mad about it.”
“Yeah?” Jamie asks, “Why don’t you tell me more over dinner tonight? I’ll take you on a proper date.”
You actually smile at him for the first time in ages. “Alright,” you reply, “one date. One. We’ll see where it goes from there.”
Jamie doesn’t care. You’re smiling, which means he’s already won the whole fucking thing. He’s yours again, and he’s not going to fuck it up.
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