#applying to jobs has become a second job for me
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Stolen Angel - Part 5
Demon!Jake Seresin x reader
Summary: You thought you were having a one-night stand with some random, normal guy. Turns out he’s a winged, demon-like stalker who has been obsessed with you for years.
Warnings/Notes: Jake is a little dark. Kidnapping. Manipulation. Obsessive behavior. Eventual smut and happy stuff. I’m sure there are typos. This used to be a different fic for August Walker, so if you see it, it’s fine. I wrote that one too.
Words: 3550
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
JAKE POV
Jake sighs at the knock on his door and sits up in his bed. It’s too early. Last night was long, watching you struggle to not verbally defy his every attempt to help you. But your wing was inflamed, which would soon lead to your back becoming inflamed, and he knows you’re intelligent but is it so hard to understand that not taking care of the injury could mean infection? Being here does not make you immune to such ailments and yet you puffed and huffed and barely held your tongue at his cleaning the area and applying a bandage with ointment. And just when you’d had a conversation with him about you being good. Terribly disappointing. You better shape up if you intend to get what you want.
“What, Javy?” Jake calls at the second knock.
Javy enters Jake’s room and leans against the door after closing it behind him. “So? You taking her?” he asks.
“Possibly,” Jake says, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. “There are stipulations, but she’s determined. She’ll do whatever she has to to get there.”
Javy raises a brow. “Does that explain her cozying up to you yesterday?”
A slight smirk sneaks onto Jake’s face. ‘Cozying up’ is definitely one way to describe what you were doing the day before, although your actions were nowhere close to how affectionate you’re capable of being. There is plenty of passion in that body of yours that a few soft touches don’t do justice, but for now Jake will take what he can get.
“It does,” Jake confirms with a nod. “She’s my clever little angel, but manipulative attempt or not, it’s not like I’m going to push her away.”
“Oh no, of course not,” Javy snorts. “You? Do the respectful thing?” With a shake of his head, he lets out a low whistle to which Jake rolls his eyes. The sarcasm in his friend’s tone is wildly unappreciated.
“Do you honestly expect any better of me?”
“Not these days,” Javy says, “but is it so horrible of me to want you to see the error of your decisions and change? When I offered you a life here you were a different man.”
A different man. A weaker man. A man who had nothing left to live for.
Losing everything he once cared about—that is what changed him, but who’s to say the man he is today isn’t who he was always meant to be? Maybe it burrowed inside of him long ago and was waiting for the encouragement to expose itself. And what is so wrong about that? That doesn't make him a bad man.
He was a man who was missing the drive and purpose he needed. But then—despite being under the cruelest of circumstances—he found it. And when you find purpose you have to take hold of it and claim it any way you can before it’s ripped away from you. If Javy still can’t understand that then it must be the type of thing you have to live for yourself in order to grasp how it feels.
Jake’s eyes contain a challenge against his friend’s stare as he leans forward to brace his elbows on his knees and clasp his hands. “You try having Fate fuck you over, and then we’ll see the kind of man you become,” he says.
Javy sighs and crosses his arms. “I’m not denying the poor timing of your first meeting, but you coped with that for years, and now that you’ve snapped–”
“I haven’t snapped,” Jake snaps.
“Yes, you have. She was moving up in her life, finding some happiness, trying to make some friends at a new job, and then you took her,” Javy tells him, but not to chastise. That lecture was one Jake received weeks ago and Javy knows another won’t alter what has been done. “And you can’t keep her in The Tower forever. When this catches up with you—because it will—what do you intend to do?”
“She will love me by then.”
“You’re hoping she will love you by then,” Javy counters, “And you’re hoping when questioned, she’ll lie for you.”
Jake groans and shoots to his feet, running a hand through his hair. Gesturing in the general direction of your room, he says, “If she loves me then she’ll be lying for both of us because she’ll know it’s the only way we can be together.”
“And if she doesn't?”
“I'm not entertaining ‘if she doesn't’,” Jake says harshly. “She will. I’ll get rid of that stubbornness and she’ll remember why she wanted me in the first place.”
Javy pushes up from his leaned position, nearing the blond. “She wanted you because the two of you had some kind of carnal pull to one another, but–”
“It’s more than that,” Jake stops him. “We share more than that. She just refuses to see it.”
But you will. You’ll come to your senses. He knows that it’s more than sex, but it’s because of that sex that he believes something in you felt him over the years even though you did not see him. That’s why it was so easy to come together that night. You don’t sleep with just anyone. You’re picky and careful, as you should be, but you showed no reservations when giving yourself to him. You weren’t timid when he stripped you of your clothes; you were too focused on ripping him out of his. You weren’t embarrassed by your sweet moans and pretty cries. You were comfortable around him, and you will be again.
When Jake realizes Javy hasn’t spoken, he shoves his thoughts aside and pays closer attention to the look directed his way. It’s a medley of emotions. Skepticism and concern. Cautious hope and pity and acceptance. Acceptance of what, it’s hard to determine. Impending doom, likely, since Javy’s so sure of its inevitability.
Finally, Javy blinks. His lips stretch into a thin line, then he says, “Be smart about this, Jake.”
And Jake replies, “I’m always smart.”
“You're not,” Javy has no shame in telling him. “That's the problem.”
—
READER POV
“You can’t speak to anyone from your past, you can’t be seen by anyone from your past, you have to stay in my sight at all times, and you can’t do anything that would jeopardize our ability to return here on time,” Jake says. “You break any of these rules and I drag you back before midnight.”
Raising a brow, you cross your arms over your chest. “You think I can’t manage that? I’ve complied with everything you’ve asked of me for two whole weeks.”
Everything down to accepting his cupping of your cheek one night as he nearly kissed you. He hadn’t though, and his reasons for pulling back instead of taking what he wanted as he’s so used to doing robbed you of four hours of sleep.
“I wouldn’t put it past you to go rogue,” he says. “But you can’t. There are actual consequences I can’t protect you from.”
Yes, you know. He has mentioned that often. “Consequences, Angel. There are consequences to not following the rules.” For the last couple of weeks, it has felt like hours upon hours of the same droning on, the same lesson as if your short-term memory is flawed. But then he’d thrown in “It's your first time, and there’s a chance you’ll forget everything I’ve told you the minute you touch foot down there. You’ll be tempted to break them.”
That was what finally struck a cord of concern.
Of course, it had crossed your mind to break them, even though you’d known of Jake’s fate when he had done the same, but if he had to warn you of the temptation, you wondered how tempting it would really be. Would you be spending your precious, limited time there miserable because of the invisible chains on your wrists and ankles and the gag in your mouth as you try to resist the desperation to bond with the life you left behind?
“How tempted?” you had asked.
You were taken aback by one look from him. A harshness was in the green, but you are no fool, and you could see exactly what it was concealing. A memory—pain.
“Incredibly,” he’d told you. “At least, I was. And I paid for it.”
You hadn’t responded, but you kept his words in the back of your mind, ultimately deciding to trust in your strength. It was either that or risk never seeing home again, and that wasn't, and isn’t, an option for you.
“I’m not going to do anything, Jake,” you swear.
He peers into your eyes a little too long, but you let him search for the lie that isn’t there until he’s satisfied. He blinks and then gives a sharp nod. “Good,” he says. “Then close your eyes.”
“What?��
“Close them,” he repeats. “You don’t need to know how to get where we’re going.”
Another thing to comply with. Rolling your eyes, you drop your arms to your sides. Jake pulls a blindfold out of his jeans pocket and folds it in thirds.
“Seriously?”
He looks up and steps closer. “Close, your, eyes,” he instructs again.
With a sigh you do as he says, then he wraps the fabric around your head, tying a little knot in the back.
“This is–” Stupid, you were going to say, but you’re cut off by the yelp that escapes your throat when you’re suddenly lifted into his arms, your legs and wings draped over his forearms.
“Hold on Angel,” he says.
Your hands clasp behind his neck. “Yea, no kidding.”
When he shoots up into the air, you have to tuck your head against his t-shirt to block out the rush and whirl of wind that’s quickly encompassing you. It’s all too fast, the pressure much too extreme that you feel as if you’ve gained thirty pounds in ten seconds. It’s the initial take-off of the rollercoasters at the theme park you went to as a child. The kind of feeling that locks your limbs in place.
However, it’s not long that you’re going up before you begin to fall back down at a speed that suggests the man holding you can’t fly and you’re about to greet the end of your life. The sharp change in movement twists and curls your insides. Your lungs are confused, unsure whether inhaling or exhaling would better suit you at the moment. You don’t know, so you don’t breathe.
Jake lands with a thud and sets you down on wobbly legs. One large hand wraps around your upper arm; the other slips the blindfold over your head and back into his pocket. You’re well-hidden behind a large tree as your eyes adjust to the bright neon lights that bleed from the city night.
Home. You’re home. You’re at the far end of a sidewalk by the docks that no one visits after six o’clock in the evening, but it’s still home, and you already feel yourself being sucked in by the central bustle of bodies and cars.
You take a step forward, much weaker than you intended, and Jake’s grip on you tightens.
“Not yet,” he says. “You need to shed your wings.”
That detail had escaped you, the excitement too overpowering. But you keep that excitement from showing on the outside, just as you had when he’d told you a few days ago that removing the wings was possible for you, too.
Standing taller, you prepare yourself for more instructions.
“Close your eyes again,” he begins, his voice a deep vibration in your ear. “Clear your mind. Create an image of your wings and the feathers plucking free, falling to the ground one at a time until you have no more. Picture the bone and cartilage crumbling,” he says. “And keep doing that until you feel the loss of the weight.”
It takes at least a full minute, but you’re lighter. When you look down, your feathers coat the ground, a few layered with his. Like ash and snow.
“Good,” he says, but his tone doesn’t match the praise. It’s the slightest bit wounded as if he’s grieving something he held dear.
You turn your head. Your eyes flick to his and you find them glued to your back—your back which is now bare of the one thing that shows the world you’re something other than human.
His Adam's apple bobs. “Let’s go,” he says.
“Where can we?”
“Anywhere that keeps you from running into someone that would recognize you or would’ve been concerned about your sudden absence.”
That definitely knocks out work, the old late-night cafe you used to frequent, the park on third—too small. But as far as you know, everything else is fair game. And if it’s not, you’re sure Jake won’t hesitate to inform you.
—
The temptation he’d warned you about isn’t as aggressive as you anticipated. It’s there, for sure, but you don’t find yourself itching to be bold. There’s no one you wish to see, and you skirt the perimeters of the locations you choose because of the thought that you might fuck up and give him reasons not to bring you back in the future.
He should be thrilled with your behavior. He should be riding one of his ego trips from getting you to do what he wants without additional scolding, but that’s not what’s happening. Instead, he’s worse by the hour.
Occasionally his eyes light up when you smile or chuckle at the places and things you haven’t seen for the month that has felt like a year, but between your grins and laughs, his face hasn’t once failed to fall.
He has taken to trailing behind you. If both hands are not in his pockets it is because one is running through his hair or down his face. To your statements, he hums. To your questions, he mutters answers. He hates it, you realize. All of it. Almost as much as you hate the place he has forced you to exist in ever since he took you.
His mood is only exacerbated by your desire to go to your apartment.
“Can you hold this?” you ask as you raise the window. “Won’t stay up, and maintenance ignored all of my requests.”
Jake nods, placing his hand on the base of the sill so you can ease yourself through the opening. You do the same for him as he steps off the fire escape onto the ragged carpet of your living room floor.
You take in the space, and it’s so…weird. Not a thing has shifted from the place you left it. The only additions left out of the memory you’ve kept in your mind are the layer of dust coating every surface and the slip of paper under your front door with Eviction Warning written in red lettering. And the smell. It doesn’t smell like you remember. You’re not immediately soaked in the scent of lavender essence left over from the half-burnt candle on the side table.
“Feels like I’ve been gone forever,” you say. You look over your shoulder at Jake. “Does time move differently there and I just didn’t notice?”
His hands are back in his pockets. His eyes are tired. “No, Angel,” he says.
Your sigh fades into a hum.
As you move about the room, you measure it all with your eyes.
Your couch. You always sat on the right. That cushion is more worn than the other two.
The lampshade is still crooked from when you last changed the lightbulb. Its poor alignment had caused a slight burn mark in the material from the shade leaning against the heat of the bulb, and yet, rather than straighten it out, you had twisted it on its diagonal axis so the mark faced the wall.
The TV remote is nowhere in sight, of course, because you were never the best at remembering where you put it down; a habit so frustrating you’re tempted to hunt for it now.
Your coffee table still has the scratch in the middle from when you’d dropped your mug onto the wood, shattering it to pieces. That had pissed you off. You’d just bought it from the flea market.
A mug—you’d left one out that morning. You turn your head to your kitchen where it still sits on the counter.
You walk over and grab it. There’s a coffee ring in the bottom, so you take it to the sink and wash it out, then flip it over to dry on a dishcloth. You weren’t a fan of leaving dishes scattered about, even for half a day, but you don’t know why it ever mattered. Since moving in, no one had entered this place but you, and well…him.
Suddenly, something deep and thick descends upon you. Though the space around you appears to have frozen in time from the moment you disappeared, there are things that did not freeze along with it that you can’t ignore.
Like the food in your fridge and the special chocolate cookies in your cabinet that the grocery store rarely had in stock. Rotten and stale. What a waste.
There’s a plant in your bathroom—a little one that relied on your sense of responsibility to keep it alive. It sits on a shelf in a dark purple pot you’d found on sale and now brittle leaves surely litter the tiles.
And, oh god, the cat. You used to leave a bowl of tuna out for the stray cat that climbed the stairs to paw at your window. What about him? Is he ok? Did he give up after being ignored? How long did that take? Did he feel abandoned? Does he miss you?
Bracing your hands on the counter, your head falls forward. You close your eyes and take a breath, and then you open them and—Fuck, there’s a cheerio on the floor. You forgot the damn cheerio; that tiny ring of processed wheat from breakfast that has been hanging out here in limbo wondering if it’ll be trashed or devoured by ants because you were running late that morning and told yourself you’d throw it out later but you didn’t and so there’s a fucking cheerio on your floor.
You can’t look at it, but then you don’t know where to look, or what to do. You don’t dare go into your bedroom. The sheets will be rumpled. Your underwear will be wherever it landed when it was taken off your body and tossed aside.
Shit, the laundry! You forgot to take it out of the washing machine. Mildew probably grew in the creases and folds. They'll have to go through the cycle again. You'll need detergent. You're out of detergent—used the last of it on the load that needs to be rewashed. Your favorite t-shirts are mixed in there somewhere. But it’s fine. You’ll do a quick wash, quick dry, quick fold, and put them in the drawer where they belong. How long could that take? An hour? Two? You have enough time, right? And while you're at it you really should set some tuna out and get rid of the spoiled food and fix the lampshade and find the remote and apologize to the plant and–
“We can pretend, Angel,” Jake whispers from behind you, making you jolt in your spot. You didn’t hear his approach—he keeps doing that—and he’s so close that his breath flutters wisps of your hair. “Forget everything, for a bit. Be the way we were that night.”
His disruption sidetracks you from the laundry, the cheerio, the cat, the plant, the food. For a second, you can barely process his words, but it doesn’t take long for the confusion to sort itself out.
You swallow. “I thought I wasn’t allowed to be human anymore,” you whisper, reminding him of what he has drilled into your brain again and again and again.
“You’re not,” he says. Then his arms are flanking your sides, palms pressing into the edge of the countertop. “But we look the part, don’t we?” Hot air is on your neck. You think you can hear his heart thumping. “Just tonight. Just here.”
Just here. Here, the last place you were before he made you into the creature you are. Here, the last place you can say that you were entirely you. Here, the last place you spent a happy moment. Your final happy moment. A moment that included him, back when you believed you were bringing home some guy. Just some guy. A beautiful guy. A human guy.
You liked that human guy.
You miss that human guy.
Sometimes you wish he'd show up again. Save you and promise you it was all a nightmare.
“Why?” you ask.
“Don’t ask why,” he answers. “Just tell me yes.”
And because you don’t want to go back to thinking about what you’ve lost; because you’re uneasy and overwhelmed and numb and weak now that you're realizing home really isn’t home anymore but a ghostly echo of who you were, you don’t possess the mental wherewithal to care about your decisions. All you want is a memory—a good memory—within your reach.
So you turn yourself right around, and you kiss him.
#jake seresin#jake seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin#jake hangman seresin x reader#top gun maverick#jake seresin fic#top gun#jake hangman seresin fic#top gun hangman#jake hangman seresin x y/n#demon!jake seresin#tgm fic#tgm#jake seresin x you
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This is gonna sound beyond weird, and it's gonna be egg on my face if the show doesn't go in the direction that I think it will with Vox but...
Is it just me or are there several paralells between Vox and Angel?
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel meta#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin hotel angel dust#hazbin angel dust#I was listening to 'poison' again and I guess the brainworms started#bc yeah on the surface angel and vox are different as can be#but some of the lyrics in 'poison' I felt could be applied to vox too?#'I got so good at being untrue I got so good at tellin' you what you want to hear' Vox's job is being untrue#and putting up a facade so the sinners in hell will buy what the vees are selling#he's become good at talking val down and saying just the right thing to make sure val doesn't ruin anything#'any way you want me baby that's the way you got me baby'#as we've seen in 'stayed gone' vox will change format literally from one second to another to appeal to more sinners#in a way both angel and vox are sell-outs dependent on valentino to keep afloat#yeah vox has more power than angel#but as alastor implies in 'stayed gone' a good chunk of that power comes from velvette and valentino#where would he be without them?
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💭
#I’m sad cuz my best friends and I made plans to video chat sometime this weekend#and once again it’s not gonna happen :(#this is the second time this month this has happened#I get that their both busy and stuff and will gladly listen to them rant and vent to me about what’s stressing them out and stuff#but it still sucks… one is a teacher but now realizes she hates her job but it’s the beginning of the school year and her first yr teaching#the other is starting her master’s program that I helped her with the applications and stuff and I know she’s stressed/busy with that#then my pathetic worthless ass is still stuck at home with my shitty parents#still no license/waiting for October to apply to a couple master’s programs for nursing… and still very lonely and isolated…#ok I’ll shut up now before I this about all of this too much and before I start crying and become depressed and shit…#squid sister says stuff
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the fucking week i have had in the last 24 hours
#somebody i blocked and told to leave me alone months ago visited me at work for the second time last night#and tried to report me to the dean of academic affairs for.... not helping him with discrete math homework#suddenly its hardly 1pm and i'm on my phone in the library w my boss explaining that i was physically unsafe around this student#and that he has harassed me and asked people where i was to come find me unexpectedly#better yet my boss is now this student's boss bc he applied to my damn job#and i still protected him for MONTHS bc i did not want this situation to become involved with my work#what a fucking riot#for some reason he thinks if you want to try to get tutors in trouble you report it to the dean and not our own damn boss#and someone not wanting to be your friend anymore is a perfectly good reason to get several kinds of administration involved in this shit#we have so many mutual acquaintances i would honestly feel so good if one of them sent him a good fuck you for me#now he's had two different reports filed on him and i have to explain this to even. more. people#put a quarter in your ass because ya played yourself victor#shut up kaily
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applying the law while experiencing the 3d
why do you accept the neutral 3d as true?
“she texted me saying she doesnt want a relationship”
“i got a rejection letter from my dream college”
“i still dont have my ideal appearance”
“my bank account says i only have $2.45”
-> “i cant manifest” “what should i do now?” “it didnt work”
why are you accepting these as true? why are you adding negative meaning to the neutral 3d and then accepting that you “cant manifest”? why accept that as true? whatever happens in the 3d is always neutral. meaning does not come on its own - you add meaning when you judge it and decide its something negative. you are the only one in power and you have the option to choose what to assume and accept as true and youre accepting that she didnt want to commit? youre accepting that youre broke? it doesnt matter what happens in the 3d because the real stuff is happening in imagination. the 3d is always a neutral illusion. as the only one in power, you chose that she wants you in imagination so stick with that. dont use the 3d as validation when it only follows you.
you always get to choose the meaning
3d -> she sent a text saying she doesnt want a relationship
person A: shit, she doesnt want me. now what? i failed at manifesting
person B: *knows that is only neutral & still knows she and her sp are already in a relationship in imagination*
the fact that you can look at something in the 3d and decide what it means (or stick with the fact that it has no meaning), means you have power over it. you always have power over the 3d. if you didnt, how does law of assumption even exist? how is it possible that a homeless woman can manifest wealth while living in her everyday 3d homeless life? because the 3d never matters. ever. the only thing that matters is who you are being in imagination because that is what constantly is molding the 3d every second.
“but what do i do if the 3d is always in my face?”
1. remember that the 3d is always neutral so whatever happens, doesnt mean anything. it doesnt mean, your getting failing at manifesting. get used to seeing things as neutral. even getting your manifestation is neutral. you are the one adding positive meaning to it. there are even times when “negative” things in the 3d become the actual thing that leads people to their manifestation. an example is a lady’s success story: she was manifesting a better job and in the 3d she lost her current job but that lead to someone recommending her to a higher company since the person knew she lost her previous job. so she experienced something that is usually seen as negative (losing her job) but it caused her to get exactly what she wanted (the better job). this is why we always say: stick to the end, no matter what happens, stay true to what you want in imagination.
2. now that you know everything is neutral, remember that your only job is to assume your desire is fulfilled in imagination only! theres no reason to assume you have it in the 3d if it clearly isnt there. the 3d is neutral and a therefore a dead world. assuming you have something in a dead world is just useless. especially since you know imagination changes the 3d. that means the only goal is to assume its done in imagination and leave the 3d alone! live your normal life in the 3d while knowing its already done in imagination. using the lady’s success story about getting a better job, when she lost her previous job, she had to find another way to pay the bills, but she still stayed true to imagination and remembered she already has her upgraded job. do whatever you need to do in the 3d, feel whatever emotions you have, because the dead world doesnt matter. emotions, actions, etc in the 3d dont matter and remember feelings (angry, depressed, etc) dont manifest. your only job is to know its already done in imagination. since imagination = 3d, of course, by law, the 3d had no choice but to obey imagination where she already had her better job. thats why the 3d reflected that.
kisses, jani ☆
#etherealkissed#loassumption#edward art#loa blog#manifesting#neville goddard#law of assumption#3d#4d reality#imagination creates reality#imagination#imagine#master manifestor#manifestation#manifesting it#loa tumblr
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only angel 2 (tattoorry/plugrry)
part two of tattorry is here!!!!! read part one here
in which y/n's parents still suck, harry can't stop thinking about his girl, and maybe there's a chance this'll all work out
word count: 8.5k
content warnings: angst (all solved in the end!), minor mentions of dieting/controlled eating, y/n has really awful parents (spoiler: there is one scene where her mom slaps her), weed mentions, a terrible date (one minor but inappropriate scene with unwanted non-sexual touching), smut (fingering, f receiving oral, dirty talk, spitting, tiniest bit of daddy kink)
masterlist | talk to me
. . .
As soon as Y/N's mother zeroes in on Harry's grasp around her daughter's waist, everything moves at a blurry pace.
In an instant, her hand is curled around Y/N's wrist, yanking her away from one of the only sources of comfort she's ever had. She gasps when she pulls her through the door and outside the bookstore, bile rising in her throat as her brain slowly pieces things together. She got caught. Applying to a job. With Harry holding her hand.
She's never going to be able to see him again.
Harry's quick to follow them outside, his mind whirring just as quickly.
"Excuse me!" he calls out as Y/N's mom drops her grasp from her, a stern expression on her face. She doesn't even look in Harry's direction but Y/N immediately blinks at him, her eyes wide with fear. "Excuse me, are you Y/N's mom?"
"Who the hell are you?" she hisses, instantly batting him away the second he takes a step forward. Y/N's chest feels tight as she clamors for words, panic rising in her throat.
"My name is Harry. I know your daughter—"
"Like hell you do." she spits, her eyes squinted and beady as she looks over Harry's appearance. It's clear on Y/N's face that she's never been this mortified before, but she can only hope it's because she got caught, not because she got caught with Harry. "I don't know what nonsense you've gotten yourself into, Y/N, but consider it done. We're going home."
The words are on the tip of Y/N's tongue — no, stop, please, I care about him, you don't understand — but the fear of her mother is too paralyzing. Again, her manicured fingers wrap tightly around Y/N's wrist and she pulls at her, making her stumble.
"Wait— Y/N, you can't seriously—"
"Enough," her mom sneers, tightening her grip, "What do you want? Money? Is that what you're after?"
"What?! No, I told you, I know Y/N—"
"Do you go to school with her? She knows better than to socialize with tattooed lowlives."
His jaw drops and his eyes dart back and forth from Y/N to her mother. Tears line her waterline and she sniffles, looking helpless and desperate — and Harry knows, he can see it right in front of his face how awful her parents are, that they're blatantly abusive and terrible people just because they have money, but for the first time, he actually feels anger bubble up in his throat. Not at her mom, but at Y/N.
"No, I don't go to school with her. Y/N, are you seriously going to let her talk to me like that?" he asks, an unusually harsh edge sharpening his voice.
Since this entire thing began, there's space for Y/N to speak — to potentially defend herself, defend Harry, or to do what she's always done and follow her mother's orders. She knows what she wants to do. Harry knows what he wants her to do.
But instead of taking any action, she flounders.
Harry can see it in her eyes — panic ravishing her body as she opens and closes her mouth like a fish. Normally, he'll tease her for that, but this time, he would do anything to hear her say something. Anything.
"Clearly you don't know one another at all. Y/N, we're going home. Now."
With a final yank, Y/N falls pliant in her mother's wishes, following her down the street to wherever her car is parked. Harry watches them walk away, sure that she'll turn around and come running back to him.
It's only when their forms become mixed in with the rest of the busy Manhattan sidewalk, little blobs he can barely make out, that he realizes she's not.
. . .
Y/N doesn't think she's ever felt so shitty in her life.
Her parents have disciplined her in the past for much smaller things — taking her car to campus, missing one of the dates they set up for her. Punishment always came in the form of the silent treatment paired with the confiscation of her car keys and the understanding that she was forbidden to leave the apartment.
This time is so much worse.
The second her mother unlocks her car and Y/N climbs in, she's on the receiving end of a piercing slap. She immediately winces and reaches up to cup her stinging cheek, tears streaming down her face from the image of Harry's hurt expression permanently seared into her memory. When she looks at the woman, she's seething.
"You're a disgrace."
Those are the only words she speaks to her the entire drive home.
When they get home, her mother is quick to lay down the ground rules: She's done with graduate school — according to her, they trusted her to know better and solely focus on her education, but they can't rely on her any longer. She'll start working at their company immediately. She'll go out on a date with Arthur Franklin, do what he wants, and marry into their family as soon as humanly possible. And lastly, she's never to be seen with "that boy" or anyone who looks like him ever again.
In two minutes, her life is drawn out for her in the most terrifying way. But she doesn't fight her. She knows it's a losing battle — one that her mother has been winning her entire life. Harry gave her a beautiful experience. He showed her what her life could have been like if she wasn't so scared.
And when she goes to bed that evening, without dinner of course (her parents gave Freya strict instructions not to make her a portion or allow her to cook anything in the kitchen), she cries for him.
She lets her tears soak into her pillow, dampening the fabric with every sob that breaks free from her chest, and desperately hopes that he doesn't hate her, even if she never sees him again.
. . .
To: Y/N, 11.19.23, 11:32 a.m.
It's been a few days.. just checking in to make sure you're doing okay.
To: Y/N, 11.20.23, 8:49 a.m.
Please just send me a text so I know you're alright.
To: Y/N, 11.22.23, 10:28 p.m.
Hey. I'm gonna wait outside your lecture hall tomorrow. I need to know you're okay. Please tell me if you don't want me to come, but I really need to see you.
To: Y/N, 11.23.23, 4:03 p.m.
Did you skip class today?
To: Y/N, 11.26.23, 1:28 a.m.
If you're avoiding me, that's fine, but this is driving me insane... please just give me a sign or something so I know you're okay. Please Y/N. You can't do this.
. . .
"I just think your father is a great businessman! He's one of the smartest men I've ever worked for and I think we could do something incredible together. Don't you think?"
Y/N gulps down another large sip of wine, flashing a tight smile to Arthur. She never drinks, but she decided that if she was getting through the night, alcohol would serve as a much-needed crutch. They're currently at some smarmy restaurant on the Upper East Side — apparently there's a waitlist of three months, but Arthur was able to just "make a call" and get them a reservation. Y/N thinks she was supposed to be impressed by that, but she could really care less.
It's been a week and a half since she saw Harry last. She never knew heartbreak could be so excruciating, but that line of thinking occurred before she met him.
In the 27 minutes since their date began — yes, Y/N's been counting — Arthur has only talked about her father. How incredible and smart he is, how he runs such a great business, how he can't wait to have a higher position in the company.
"Did you hear me?" Arthur asks, stuffing another piece of bread in his mouth.
"Yeah," she says curtly. "Sorry, did you want me to call my father so you could date him instead?"
Arthur forces out an awkward laugh. "You know, your mom said you had an unusual sense of humor... guess that's just part of your charm, huh?"
Y/N shrugs her shoulders as she picks at her pasta. She's looking straight ahead, eyes empty and zoning out when she thinks she sees a familiar head of long, unruly curls. She perks up, straightening her posture, ignoring Arthur when he assumes her change in body language is in response to whatever nonsense he's droning on about.
She wills the figure to turn around, her heart tugging — but when he does a mere moment later, she realizes it's not him, just someone with a similar haircut. Her shoulders slump, blinking as she watches the man gently guide his date to their table.
"Are you okay?"
Snapping out of her thoughts, she redirects her attention to Arthur. She swallows and nods her head.
"Yeah. Sorry, thought I saw someone I know."
He hums. "Hm, probably not. Like I said, this restaurant a three-month long waitlist. No one you know could be here."
"Right." she mutters. She drops her fork, suddenly feeling sick, and Arthur's eyes snap up at the clattering sound the metal makes against the ceramic plate.
"Be careful," he hisses, "This is a nice place, Y/N."
The sting to his tone is instantly reminiscent of her own parents' discipline. She cowers, mumbling out a half-hearted apology, and when she looks up to see his squinted eyes analyzing her every feature, anxiety is quick to spread through her chest and up her throat.
She knew it before tonight — that Arthur was essentially just an extension of her parents, but the fear and apprehension of leaving her family was too paralyzing. But in an instant, it clicked.
Sitting across from her, Arthur just looks so mean. A curl to his lips, an expression of disgust painted across his face as he studies her, his mouth open in preparation to scold her again.
She can't do this for the rest of her life.
She refuses to do this for the rest of her life.
Her heart is beating out of her chest, shaky hands grabbing the napkin folded neatly in her lap. She places it on the table, moving slowly in hopes that he won't notice, even if she knows it's impossible.
"What are you doing?" he asks tightly, eyebrows lowering as she stands from the table.
"I... I have to do something," Y/N mumbles, "I'm sorry. I have to go."
"What?" Arthur snaps, digging into his pocket to grab his wallet, throwing a few hundred dollar bills down on the table as she rushes out of the restaurant. He's quick to follow her, his stride much larger and faster than hers. He reaches out to grab her elbow and pulls her form to press against his body in the entryway. She gasps out in surprise, freezing her movements.
"Where are you going?" Arthur repeats through gritted teeth. "We're not done. We're on a date, Y/N."
She swallows and shakes her head jerkily, "I have to do something, I'm sorry, please let me go—"
"Your parents made a deal with me." he says, nostrils flaring, "You're done running. You're mine now."
Her stomach drops. A deal? She's not some kind of pawn in their game and she's not an object that can be moved around whenever they want. In an act of anger, she yanks her arm away from his grasp, taking a step back.
"I'm not yours. I'm not anybody's. Whatever deal you made with my parents is off."
She grabs the door handle and pushes it open, leaving Arthur — and whatever fucked up future they had planned for her — behind.
. . .
Harry hasn't been sleeping well.
It's from a combination of factors, but primarily, it's being on the receiving end of Y/N's silent treatment. He didn't think she would ever do this to him, but maybe he was too naive, looking at their relationship through rose-colored lenses and assuming she'd be strong enough to reject her parents in favor of him.
How stupid.
He sighs and glances at the clock on the wall of his office. When he was seeing Y/N, he never stayed at the shop later than 6 or 7, usually because she wanted to get home before her parents started to wonder. These days, he stays behind until midnight, trying to occupy himself with work so he doesn't have to go home and think about her.
And at first, he thinks he's hallucinating. Who would be knocking on the door to the shop at 9:30, especially with the clear and apparent closed sign? But then the fists get louder, and he wonders if it's someone drunk or high, looking to get a tattoo. (That certainly wouldn't be happening.)
Finally, he hears it — the faintest of familiar voices calling out his name, and he realizes he may not be imagining it.
He forces himself out, taking large footsteps to the front, his heart beating rapidly when he sees the helpless girl pounding on the door. Quickly, he unlocks it through furrowed brows, immediately letting her in when he sees the distress on her face.
"What's wrong?" he asks immediately, pulling Y/N inside. "What happened?"
Dried tears leave marks down the apples of her cheeks, her mascara clumpy and stained around her eyes. She sniffles and shakes her head. "I'm so sorry, Harry."
"Y/N, what's going on?" he repeats before locking the door back up. Carefully, he places a hand to the small of her back and guides her to the back, where his office is. He wordlessly encourages her to sit down on the blue velvet couch, grabbing a bottle of water from the mini fridge and handing it to her.
"They're awful," she stammers, "My parents... I'm so sorry, Harry."
"Just tell me what happened," Harry murmurs, carefully rubbing the area between her shoulder blades, "Why are you crying? Did they do something? Are you hurt?"
She shrugs, eyes falling to her lap. "Everything's been terrible." she whispers. "They had me go on a date with someone they want me to marry — when I wanted to leave, he told me that my parents made a deal with him. That I'm his now."
"A deal?" Harry repeats, anger quickly bubbling under his skin, "What does that fucking mean?"
"I don't know. I didn't know about it until tonight."
"Did he do anything to you?" he asks, doing a quick once-over of her appearance. She doesn't look hurt, but she does look beautiful. It makes jealousy rise from the pit of his stomach, knowing she got dressed up for somebody else.
"No. He was really mean, but," she sniffles, shrugging again, "I don't know. He grabbed me."
"Where?" Harry growls. "Where did he grab you?"
Her eyes widen, "J-just my arm. When I was trying to leave, he, um, grabbed my elbow and pulled me back against him."
"Let me see."
Y/N wants to tell him that she's fine, immediately trying to downplay the act, but on the cab ride over, she had time to process how gross it made her feel. That he felt it was appropriate to touch her in that way just because she didn't want to be there — so she allows him to cautiously push up the sleeve of her sweater, analyzing the slightly reddened skin where his hand had been.
"You're not seeing him again," he mutters, carefully putting her arm down. He reaches over into his desk drawer and grabs a small container of Neosporin, dabbing a bit on the mark and rubbing it in with gentle fingertips. "I don't care if your parents want you to marry him. You will not be with someone who hurts you, Y/N."
"I know," she whispers, "I told him that I wasn't his. That whatever deal they had is off."
Harry's eyes widen. "You did?"
"Yes." she nods sullenly, "I realized that... well, I wanted to leave because I wanted to come see you. I don't want them to control me anymore. I want my own life."
"That's... that's huge, Y/N," Harry murmurs, resisting the urge to surge forward and wrap his arms around her, "What are you gonna do?"
She shrugs. "I haven't gotten that far yet, I guess. But the first step was seeing you and apologizing for that day with my mom."
"It hurt," he admits quietly. "Seeing you walk away... but I guess I didn't fully understand just how bad it was."
"I never wanted to walk away. They just scare me so much. She... she slapped me when we got in the car."
"Dovie," Harry breathes out, the pet name slipping from his mouth, "That's unacceptable, you know that, right? They're abusive."
"I do. I know they're bad." she pauses, swallowing harshly. "I don't want to go back there tonight."
Harry shakes his head. "You're never going back there at all."
. . .
Harry's apartment is cozy.
Y/N should have assumed as much, being that his mere presence essentially feels like a warm hug. But when he takes her back to his place and he hesitantly locks the door, murmuring out an apology about how messy things are, she can't but smile gently at all the very Harry decor touches: A record player next to a large collection of his favorite albums, framed pictures and polaroids tacked up onto his fridge of his friends, family, and loved ones, and just about ten cozy throw blankets and pillows strewn across his couch.
He apologizes for how small it is and Y/N scoffs — she couldn't care less about the size of his place, instead being completely enamored by the fact that it's his.
She's analyzing the refrigerator door, eyes glued to a photo strip of him and his sister when she feels a gentle hand at her hip, giving it a squeeze.
"Do you wanna change, dove?" Harry asks quietly, his breath ghosting over the back of her neck.
She nods, pinching at the fabric of her dress. Suddenly, her tights feel too restrictive and her feet ache from the heels her mother forced her into hours earlier.
"I don't have any clothes, though."
He chuckles lightly. "I can give you some, silly."
"Are you sure?" Y/N asks, turning to look at him. Her lips part nervously when she sees how close he is to her. "You're already doing so much for me tonight."
"What, would you prefer to waltz around naked, then?"
Her signature blush appears in seconds and it makes a lopsided grin appear nearly instantly on Harry's face. He can tell that she's about to whine his name out in her typical chagrined way and he laughs.
"Kidding, princess," he mumbles, "But I wouldn't mind if you wanted to."
"You're too much." Y/N grumbles, though the small smile on her lips says differently. She couldn't deny how much she missed Harry over the past two weeks — not only the place he holds in her life, but from a physical, intimate standpoint, too.
"C'mon, I'll get you some sweats."
She follows him to his bedroom, her stomach prickling with nerves as he guides her to the bed, instructing her to take a seat. He traipses over to his dresser and pulls out a pair of gray sweatpants and a baggy tee-shirt. It says hot and heavy on the back, and she remembers she blushed just from reading it the first time she saw him wear it.
He gives her a moment of privacy to change, shutting the bedroom door quietly. With a deep breath, she kicks her heels off, peels her tights down her legs, and pulls her dress up and over her body. It's a relief to finally change into cozy clothes that smell like Harry, and she can't believe she's really here — when they were seeing each other before, she'd dreamt of being able to go over to his house and see what it looked like. She was always just too scared that her parents would find her, or even call the cops when she didn't come home early enough.
Now, she still cares, but it feels like Harry's there to protect her — and that makes it seem a little less scary.
There's a knock at the door, pulling her from her thoughts. With her old clothes folded up neatly, she opens it, revealing a sleepy looking Harry.
"All changed?"
She nods, opening the door a little wider to reveal her appearance. His jaw drops and a single "fuck" leaves his lips.
Y/N's eyes widen, worried that she's done something wrong. Quickly, he flounders, stammering like she normally does.
"Are you alright?" she asks, a look of concern covering her face. He nods, swallowing harshly.
"Um. Yeah, sorry." he coughs into his hand, "Fuck, this is embarrassing— you just— um, you look really fucking hot in my clothes."
She raises her eyebrows, glancing down at the outfit. His sweatpants pool at her ankles and the shirt, which is oversized on his torso, goes down to the middle of her thighs. She supposes he may be able to see her breasts through the white fabric of the tee, but otherwise, she doesn't understand why it's such an attractive sight to him.
"Shit, I need to— I'm sorry, Y/N, this definitely isn't what you need tonight—" he's inching backwards and towards the bathroom on the side of the hallway when she sees it — a very large and apparent erection straining through his black jeans.
"Oh," she mumbles, "Do you...? We can, like, do stuff if you... if you wanted..."
"No!" he groans, turning to face the wall and pressing his forehead against it, "Just— no, dovie, thank you for the offer but I just feel like I'd be taking advantage of you after such a long night, yeah? So lemme just— I'm gonna take care of this in the bathroom and you can get comfy in the bed, okay?"
He's gone in a flash, the bathroom door locked before she even has a chance to reply. She bites her lip, hoping he's not secretly annoyed at her for asking if he wanted to do something sexual. She's too tired to overthink it though, so she turns on her heel, walks back into his room, and climbs under the blankets.
She's nearly asleep when he returns, soft footsteps padding across the length of the wood floors. She hears a quiet whisper of her name and she peeks an eye open to see Harry standing over her.
"'m gonna sleep outside on the couch, but let me know if you need anything, alright?"
She swallows, reaching out to grab his hand in a sleepy haze. His eyebrows raise as she bites her lip. "Can you just... stay for a minute? Until I fall back asleep?"
And truly, Harry couldn't deny her even if he wanted to.
So he nods his head and, to his surprise, she moves over so he has room to crawl in. He does, at first maintaining a sliver of distance between them, until she looks up at him, her hair mussed from laying back against his pillows, an expectant and wide-eyed look on her face.
"Need me to hold you, dovie?"
Y/N nods, immediately clinging to his body like a magnet. He smiles gently and wraps his arms around her form, pulling her onto her side and into his chest, smoothing her hair down as he presses an occasional kiss to her forehead. They've cuddled at the shop a few times, but nothing like this — not an all-consuming, full body experience that has Harry feeling like he's in heaven. She smells so good, her skin is so warm, and she's wrapped up in his clothes — he doesn't think he could ask for anything more in this moment.
Just as he thinks she's fallen asleep, he hears a soft voice muffled into his sweatshirt. He glances down, wondering if she's just talking in her sleep. Instead, he's met with tired, sweet eyes.
"What was that?" he whispers, swiping his knuckle lightly over her cheek.
"Thank you," she mumbles. "For today."
"I would do anything for you, princess. Hope you know that."
She yawns with a shake of her head. "That's a silly thing to promise."
. . .
When Y/N wakes up the next morning, she's under the weight of a long haired man that, for the past two weeks, only existed in her dreams.
It's jarring for him to actually exist in her reality now, but even more so that she stayed over at his place and slept in the same bed as him.
Less than 24 hours away from her parents and she's already crossed off another first off her list.
But the blissful moment of realization is quickly stripped away when the events of last night come flooding back to her — the date with Arthur, his rough nature, the supposed deal between him and her parents. Her parents who were an entirely different issue on their own — she feels a dull throb aching behind her temples just as the thought of how they're planning to lure her back, worry seeping into her bones when she realizes she hasn't checked her phone since they left the tattoo shop last night.
Harry must feel her panicked thoughts rising because he blinks his eyes open to see a prominent furrow between her eyebrows. Without her realizing it, he moves carefully, raising his thumb to smooth it away.
"What're you stressing about so early in the morning?" he rasps out. She swallows, moving onto her side to face him.
"They've probably issued out a search party by now."
"Mm, can't do that. You're not considered a missing person until it's been 48 hours."
His joke clearly doesn't land when Y/N squints her eyes at him. Instead, he quickly wraps his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer.
"It's gonna be okay, Y/N. I promised you would never go back there and I meant it," he explains lowly, pressing a light kiss to the shell of her ear. "What if you just text them and tell them that you're done? You're over 18, there's no reason why they can keep doing this."
Her eyes close as she relaxes into his chest, enjoying the sensation of his vibrating chest from his deep voice.
"I'm too scared to look at my phone." she admits quietly. "I can't imagine the mean things they've written to me."
"Do you want me to look?" Harry asks softly, using his hand to tilt her head up to look at him.
She shrugs. "If you do, can you maybe not tell me what they say? Just tell me the important stuff?"
"Course."
She nods and sits up, reaching onto his night stand for her phone. With a deep breath, she hands it to him before rolling over onto her other side to face the wall.
He runs his fingers up and down her spine as he goes through her missed texts. There's one or two from that prick Arthur, but they're nothing important — just an ask that she calls him when she's feeling better (he resists the urge to block his number altogether). But otherwise... well, he's admittedly shocked at what he finds.
"Is it bad?" she asks, wedging her thumbnail between her teeth.
"Um..." Harry presses his lips into a thin line, rolling them into his mouth. "You didn't block their numbers or anything, right?"
"No."
"Dove... I'm not quite sure how to tell you this, but... there's nothing."
She flips onto her back, a stunned expression painting her face. "What?"
"They didn't text or call, sweetheart. I'm... I don't know if that's a good or bad thing, but... you just had some missed texts from that guy from last night."
"How is that possible?" she asks when he hands her phone to her, "I— do you think they haven't noticed?"
"I'm not sure. You said they've been on you more often lately, I would assume that they'd be waiting up for you last night, right?"
She shrugs, "Yeah. Probably."
"On the other hand, though, it could mean that... well, maybe you're home free, dovie," Harry says, treading carefully in case he accidentally upsets her, "We can take the day to relax. I don't have to go into work today and we can figure out your next steps, if you'd like."
With a heavy sigh, she nods her head and sits up a little straighter, running her hand through her messy bedhead. "Do you mind if I take a shower?"
"Sure," Harry mumbles, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before allowing his feet to touch the chilly wood floor of his bedroom. "I'll get you set up in the bathroom."
She doesn't reply to that so Harry decides to leave her be, instead deciding to show his affection in an act of service. He starts by running the shower on the perfect temperature — not too hot but not too cool either, just so steam begins to steadily fill the room — and picks out his plushiest towels for when she's done. He finishes by lighting his favorite candle for her, moseying back out to his bedroom to fetch her a new pair of sweats.
She's on her feet when he returns, scrolling on her phone with her lips pressed into a straight line. Silently, he grabs another pair of his sweatpants and a tee-shirt and reaches out for her hand; a wordless request to follow him.
She does, pliantly, but not before peering up at him with eyes that tell him everything: She's sad. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out.
"Let me know if you need anything, okay?" Harry murmurs, folding her new clothes on the covered toilet seat. "You're obviously free to use whatever you want in there."
Swallowing harshly, she begins to tug at the hem of her borrowed tee-shirt before he has the chance to scamper out of the room. His eyes widen — he feels like a dick, she probably wants to be alone and now he's standing her ogling at her breasts like an idiot — but she simply stares at him with blank eyes.
"Can you... distract me?" she asks softly, her torso now bare, "It's— it's just been too much and I miss you. A lot."
Harry breathes in sharply. "I don't know if that's a good idea, dovie... it's been an emotional time for you."
"I know that," she mumbles, biting her bottom lip. "I just— I wanna feel normal again, Harry. Like how things were before. When we could just kiss and hang out and I didn't feel like I'm gonna burst into flames at any point."
"I know," Harry nods understandingly and bumps his hip against the sink. "But things are different now, princess. And I don't want to do something that you'll regret later because you were feeling down."
She shakes her head quickly, taking a step towards him. The steam from the shower has effectively warmed the bathroom, making beads of sweat pearl at his hairline. Well, that and the topless girl in front of him.
"I would never regret anything we do," she says, "Even when I tried to stay away from you, I didn't regret a single moment."
"Really?"
"Of course not," she replies, keeping her gaze set on him, "Sometimes, I, um... I even played with myself. Thinking of you."
"Jesus Christ."
He lets out a frustrated groan and closes the bathroom door, tugging his own tee-shirt up and over his body to reveal his heavily inked chest and arms. In a minute, his hands are on her, squeezing her sides as he presses her back against the wall.
"Tell me more," he mutters, leaning down and sponging kisses along her jawline and down to her neck. "What did you do? What did you think about?"
The sudden physicality makes it hard for her to breathe, let alone talk, but she tries to anyway, knowing that he'll tease her into oblivion if she doesn't at least make an attempt. With his fingers curling into the waistband of the sweatpants she wears, she tries to remember the nights when all she could think about was him.
"Thought about— oh—" her sentence is interrupted when he nips at the crook of her neck, his fingers dipping beneath her panties to lightly roll over her clit. She leans her head back but, as expected, he attempts to keep her on task, using his other hand to gently squeeze the sides of her neck. "T-thought about you touching me... l-like this."
"Like what?"
"This," she repeats through a gasp when he starts to apply a bit more pressure to her clit, pressing small circles into the nerves.
"Don't know what that means, dove. Gotta spell it out for me. Where was I touching you?"
Y/N moans when one of his fingers dips into her pulsating hole, just enough to make her clench, her knees weakening. He squeezes her neck again, this time a bit tighter, and her eyes roll back.
"Where was I touching you, Y/N?"
"D-down there." she says breathily.
"Down where?"
She knows there's no way she's getting out of this, and the rhythmic pulsing of her clit is only a reminder of the power he holds over her in this moment. She whimpers, swallowing harshly when he removes his finger, keeping the tip inside.
"Tell me," he encourages lowly, licking over the sensitive part of her neck he found a few weeks back. "Don't you wanna be my dirty girl again?"
"Y-you were touching my pussy." she mumbles, her cheeks burning. She can feel his smirk, the way his lips curl against her skin. As promised, he dips his finger back in, curling it up against the spot that has her fluttering her eyes closed, and resumes the soft circles into her clit.
"I was touching your pussy? That's a naughty thing for a sweet girl like you to imagine," he lowers, placing open-mouthed kisses down her naked chest. "And what were you doing while you thought of that, hm?"
Y/N gasps wetly as he pulses his finger steadily, a groan falling from his own lips when he feels her arousal gush out around his hand. Based on how long it took her to refer to her own anatomy, Harry doesn't have high expectations for her explaining how she touched herself, so it's a given that he'll help push her along.
"Did you grind your little clit on your hand?" he asks as he lowers to his knees, tugging the sweatpants down her legs and pressing kisses to her exposed stomach. "Or did you hump one of those cute stuffed animals you have on your bed?"
She pants heavily at that, a soundless lightbulb illuminating above his head. Bingo.
"Don't think I didn't notice those little stuffies in your bedroom from when you'd send me pretty pictures of yourself," he murmurs into her hips, nipping at the stretch marks on her stomach, "Is that what you would do when you thought of me? Hump your cute bunny, moaning, wishing I was there to take care of you?"
She nods her head, quickly and haphazardly. He pushes his lips over her mound, leaving open-mouthed kisses in his wake as he continues his journey down to her pussy. She's wet, perhaps even more so than he's ever seen her before, her juices leaking from where his finger is buried deep inside down to his wrist.
"Please," she whimpers from above, making him glance up at her, "Just— just want you. Please."
"You have me, dovie." he replies easily, pushing a second finger in and nestling it close to the first.
"N-no. Want you. All of you."
He swallows and sits back on his heels. She has no idea how badly he wants that, and if it were anyone else in the world, he'd probably say yes. But it's her — his sweet, innocent girl that showed up at his tattoo shop one day and hasn't left his brain for one second since — and he knows that right now isn't the time for them.
"I'll give you that as soon as things get better," he murmurs, keeping his gaze set on her. "But you deserve so much more than to be fucked for the first time against a bathroom wall. Wanna take you out, make it romantic."
She blinks, taking a moment to process his polite rejection, nevertheless slowly nodding her head. He leans forward and presses another light kiss to her mound, just below her stomach.
"Y'wanna know something, though?"
Again, she nods, and he begins to slowly curl his fingers up against her g-spot once more.
"I love the fact that I've corrupted you," he mutters, kissing down to her hood, right where her clit is peeking out. He licks just above there and she moans, pushing her hips out slightly as a wordless request to keep moving down. "Remember when you were that polite girl coming in with her friend? And now you're at my place, begging for my cock, asking me to take your virginity."
"Uh-huh," she mewls as his lips wrap around her clit, sucking perfectly in time with his thrusting fingers.
He pauses his movements for a moment, just enough for a demand: "Say it," he says, immediately returning to the assault on her most sensitive parts.
"Y-you corrupted me," she breathes, punctuating the sentiment with a whimper when he harshens his sucking, "I'm yours— oh, I'm yours, daddy—"
"That's right." he uses his other hand to part her pussy lips, spitting squarely on her clit, even if she doesn't need any more lubrication. He switches to kitten licking the bundle of nerves, feeling her hole beginning to clench violently around his fingers. "Cum for me like a good girl. Missed feeling your little pussy squeeze me like this."
That's all it takes for her to cum, her body feeling like it's exploding into a million stars as his tongue and fingers work her through the intense pleasure. He's groaning from the taste of her arousal that drools out from her pussy, the feeling of haphazard pulsations the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He loves watching her — her head ducked back slightly, her eyes squeezed closed, and the prettiest whimpers falling from plushy lips.
"S-sensitive," she finally stutters out and Harry nods, gently pulling his fingers out. They immediately find their way into his mouth as he rises back up to his feet. When he's finished licking them clean, he grabs her jaw.
"Open."
She does. Her lips part, opening her mouth, her pink tongue laying dormant inside. With a smirk, his eyes flicker up to hers before he spits into her mouth.
It takes her by surprise, her body jolting slightly, but her sensitive pussy twitches from the act.
"Swallow."
Slowly, she closes her mouth, swallowing the combination of his spit with her arousal. A moment later, she opens it again to show him there's nothing left.
"Fuck," he mutters. "Fuck, you're incredible."
She smiles gently, letting out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "Can we shower now?"
Harry chuckles and nods, guiding her into the steaming stream of water.
. . .
"Okay, princess. Repeat the plan back to me."
Y/N is doing her best to fight off a panic attack as she sits in the passenger's seat of Harry's car. Swallowing harshly, she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes as she restates the steps they'd decided on last night.
"We're gonna go up to their apartment and go straight to my bedroom. If they're there, I'm going to ignore them and let you do the talking. I won't listen to anything rude they say to me."
"That's right. What do we do when we're in your room?"
"We're gonna pack up my things, but only the necessities. Most things can be repurchased."
"Exactly. We're going for important things that you don't wanna leave behind."
She nods, watching the city streets slowly progress to the familiar high-end stores and supermarkets she grew up around. Suddenly, the blocks were far more sanitary and well taken care of. It made her stomach flutter in the worst way, being back here after spending the past few days at Harry's house in her newly preferred neighborhood.
In a stroke of luck, Harry had a friend that was looking for a roommate. Apparently, they'd worked together as tattoo apprentices a few years back and they still kept in touch. Her name was Lucy, and Harry had even set up a coffee date between the three of them so they could sit down before Y/N made any big decisions. She had been really nervous about it, but Lucy turned out to be incredibly nice and understanding.
Y/N explained her situation to her, only to receive an abundance of kindness in return — she said that she would love to have her move in with her, that she was a pretty quiet person to live with and worked most days while Y/N would be in school. (She missed around two weeks of classes because of her parents, but Harry convinced her to meet with her professors and tell them she had a family emergency. Thankfully, they were fine with it, and with a little extra studying and hunkering down, she thinks she can still end the semester with low Bs.)
With her living situation figured out and Y/N back to being a full-time student, the only thing left to address was her parents. In an ideal world, she would never have to deal with them again, but she knows that's unrealistic. They still haven't reached out to her despite it being a full week since she went back to Harry.
And while she wants to run away and abandon her former life, Harry convinced her that she had things she'd regret leaving behind. Not to mention, since starting grad school, she started saving money from her parents in the event that she somehow received an opportunity to get away from them. It wasn't enough to sustain her forever, but it would be good enough for a few months of bills and rent until she gets a job.
When Harry parks in the lot under her parents' apartment building, she feels nauseous. She ignores the sleek black Range Rover that's still parked in her assigned spot — she has no desire to take it, especially because it was just another way for her parents to pretend they were giving her freedom when they were just controlling her even more.
Wordlessly, they get in the elevator. Y/N's nibbling on her bottom lip to the point of near-blood draw while Harry thumbs over her knuckles, pressing a light kiss to her palm when the elevator dings at their arrival.
Standing outside of their apartment door, Y/N rolls her shoulders back to stand up straighter. She can feel Harry's presence close behind her and it brings her comfort, knowing that she's not going in this alone. He murmurs out a near-whisper of encouragement ("you can do this") before she punches in the door code. She's surprised when it works — she'd been half expecting them to change the codes so she couldn't come back.
Hesitantly and with intertwined fingers, Y/N leads them to her bedroom. The apartment is silent, which typically means her parents are gone, but her anxiety is too overwhelming for her to trust it.
Which she supposes is for good reason, because when she opens the door to her room, her mother is sitting on her bed.
"Y/N," she says, eyes roaming inquisitively from her daughter to the man she's holding hands with. "I saw you coming up on the security cameras."
A bead of panic drips down her spine. Harry squeezes her hand and steps forward, clearly prepared to reply, when Y/N stops him.
"Why are you here?" Y/N asks. Harry looks at her with a confused expression but he takes a step back, ready to defend her if needed. "You haven't contacted me for a week."
"Well, this is my property, Y/N. You're trespassing."
"Okay." she sighs, looking up at Harry. "Just give us a minute then, we just want to grab some of my stuff and we'll be gone."
"And this is who you'll be living with?" her mom quirks an eyebrow. "This... person from the bookstore that day?"
"He tried talking to you. You had no interest."
"Well I would think you would defend your boyfriend better than that. How was I supposed to know?"
Y/N grits her teeth and shakes her head, "Again, mother, just give us a minute. I'm not taking any furniture or anything valuable, just a few keepsakes."
"You're abandoning this family, I hope you know that," her mother spits as Y/N begins to rustle through her desk, grabbing some pictures and notebooks. Silently, she hands them to Harry, who carefully slips everything in the tote bag around his shoulder. "Your father is so disappointed. So are the Franklins! I mean, you left Arthur alone like that on your first date! And for what, a lifetime of struggling for money?"
"Not everything is about money!" Y/N exclaims, turning around. Harry's eyebrows shoot up — he's never seen her get angry before. "Besides that, you promised me off to Arthur like I'm some kind of object! Who does that?!"
"It was for the better of the company and the family, Y/N, don't be dramatic—"
"Well I didn't want that! I never did!" she shouts, "I want to live my own life! With my boyfriend! Who, by the way, I'm not living with! He's just helping me get on my feet, but even if I was moving in with him, it wouldn't matter, because it's not your life! You don't get to make my decisions anymore!"
Her mother scoffs and Y/N rolls her eyes. When she finds her envelope of money deep at the bottom of her dresser, she grabs a few pairs of pants and sweaters, sticking it between the layers of fabric to pass off to Harry. He tucks them all away.
"You know you're cut off after this, right?" she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. "This is it. You walk out that door, you're never allowed back. Don't ask us for a single cent."
Bristled, Y/N lets out a humorless chuckle as she heads for the door, Harry right behind her. They cross the length of the apartment and she slams the down button to the elevator, turning around to look at her mother for the last time.
"I never want to come back, mother. Goodbye."
The click of her mother's heels are the last thing she hears as they enter the elevator and ride down to the parking lot.
. . .
When they get into Harry's car, he realizes it's been a solid five minutes since Y/N has said anything.
He doesn't want to pressure her — he knows that what just happened was a lot, and when he was reading articles like how to help your partner leave an abusive family last night, they all instructed him to go at her pace. So, that's what he decides to do.
The interior of the car is silent as they drive out of the lot and away from her parents, the boring, dull building just a reflection in the rearview mirror. He doesn't want to turn the radio on and make it seem like he doesn't care, but he also doesn't want to say something stupid and upset her further.
It's only when he hears a sound resembling a giggle that he looks over at Y/N, a concerned furrow in his brow.
But she is laughing.
The most beautiful grin is covering her face as she lets out loud laughter, tears streaming down her cheeks. She shakes her head, looking at Harry, whose confused expression only makes her laugh even harder.
"Dovie, are you alright?" he asks, pulling the car over in preparation for a full meltdown.
"I—" her words are cut off by another peel of laughter and she takes another moment to pull herself together, "Oh my god— I would've done that years ago if I knew it'd be that easy!"
This time, Harry chuckles, a wave of relief washing over him.
"I'm so proud of you," he says, leaning over to pull her hands into his lap. "You stood up for yourself. You left. I couldn't be happier for you."
"Thank you," she bubbles, her cheeks flushed from her laughter, "I'm so happy. Thank you so much, Harry... I'm just so thankful for you."
He shakes his head, "I'll do anything for you, princess."
Y/N leans over to kiss him lightly, a smile continuing to curl at the edges of her lips. "I love you, you know."
Harry grins.
"Yeah, I love you, too."
. . .
The bell above the front door of St. Mark's Social Club rings as Y/N steps inside. She smiles politely at Jo, the kind receptionist that sits at the front desk (the same one that checked Mai in a few months ago). She's still getting comfortable with all the different employees and characters that come in and out of Harry's tattoo shop, but her socialization skills have definitely improved since moving out.
She walked over as soon as she got out of class. Lately, she's been staying on campus a bit later to do some studying for finals, but today's Friday. Over the past few weeks as Y/N's adjusted to her new life of living on her own and officially dating Harry, they've designated Friday nights as theirs, whether it mean curling up on the couch with a pizza or heading out to a bar with some of Harry's employees. (More often than not, it's the former — despite Harry being the more social of the two, he's always eager to get his hands on her after a day of being away from one another.)
He's wrapping up his last client of the day when Y/N peeks into his station, waving with a small smile. Harry's stoic and focused expression instantly transforms into one of excitement.
"Hey dove," he greets as he tears off a clear piece of plastic to cover his client's new tattoo. (Y/N's since learned that it's called Saniderm, and it's apparently some way of helping fresh tattoos heal faster.) "You can put your stuff down in my office, I'll be there in a sec."
She nods and bounces off to the small room at the end of the hallway. Instantly, she lays back against the velvet couch in the corner, placing her backpack on the floor. As promised, Harry walks in a few minutes later, pulling off his plastic gloves and tossing them in the garbage can.
"How was your day?" he asks, leaning down to peck her lips. She hums, hands in her lap as he smiles down at her.
"Good. Class was boring, I was excited to come see you."
"Oh yeah?" he smirks, "You better have been paying attention and not letting your mind wander with those dirty thoughts of yours."
Y/N rolls her eyes. "Harry, you're the one that tries to have phone sex, like, every night."
"We'll get there one day, I think."
She laughs and shakes her head, crossing her legs. "What are you in the mood to eat for dinner tonight?"
"Mm, not sure," he replies, "I forgot, I have one deal to do before we head out for the day. 's why I came around to begin with. I hope that's alright."
She nods her head, "Yeah, that's fine."
"Thanks, princess," he murmurs, leaning forward to press a light kiss to her nose. "Who'd have thought, three months ago yo@u'd be dating the hot tattoo artist that sells weed on the side?"
"You're silly," she mumbles with a giggle, "But... to be honest, I never thought this is what my life would look like three months ago."
"I'm sure. Are you happy with it, though?"
Y/N has to bite her lip from grinning too hard.
"I don't think I could be any happier, Harry."
She squeals when he pushes her back against the length of the sofa to press kisses all over her face.
. . .
TAGS:
I know I asked people forever ago if they wanted to be tagged for my new writing and I'm literally just doing it now grjetkjre but please feel free to message me if that's changed ! (if your name is in italics it didn't work!)
@tenaciousperfectionunknown @cookielovesbook-akie @cali-888 @harrysolaf @gnomerry @vamprry @onllyyaangelbyhs @harrystylessslut @lovelylly @straightontilmornin @rizosrizo26 @redlightalexa @velvetballaspark @uniquesexything @canyonmoondreams @ghoststyles @whoreonmondays @esnyhoney @imnevergonnabloganything @honeyharlows @gem1712 @harryscherri @forgetdelaney
#writing#harry styles#harry styles fic#harry styles fan fiction#harry styles fan fic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles imagine#harry styles one shot#harry styles smut#harry styles fluff#harry styles angst#harry styles blurb#harry styles x you#harry styles x oc#harry styles fic rec#harry styles fic recs#harry styles x reader#one direction#harry's house#fine line#harry styles smut blurb#harry styles smutty blurb#harry styles smutty imagine#harry styles rec#tattoo artist h
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Dean Winchester & hug dynamic analysis
I was thinking about how whenever Dean hugs someone he's almost always the one hugging the other and how this links to his psychological trauma of always being the caretaker of people, making himself bigger to protect them.
Because that's how Dean sees himself, as a shield for others, and then I thought about how Cas actually is the shield, and he's HIS SHIELD, specifically, the only one who's really there to protect HIM, which is why it hits so much when we see this:
The way Cas wraps his arms around him, trying to protect him with his whole body--that he'd use as a shield and give up in a second if he could spare him from any pain and save him.
(for context: Dean was about to go use the soul bomb on Amara there, it was a suicide mission)
Bobby is another one that hits, he hugs him as the big hugger because he's his father, he loves him and he's actually here to protect him (and Dean LETS him -barely, but he lets him *and Cas* - in a way that he doesn't let Sam)
I watched a compilation of Sam & Dean hugs to check if i was right about it, but it's almost always Dean the big hugger with Sam, except when he's about to die or Sam sees him alive again after losing him.
Even then, Dean mostly tries to hug Sam as the big hugger anyway, with at least one arm, like a way to comfort him, making him feel protected, like his body language is saying "I'm here, I'm okay, I'm still strong, i can still protect you" (because their real father failed and Dean thinks it's his job).
He rarely lets himself be the little one hugged with Sam, unless he's barely conscious. Which is why it kills me so much more now that in this moment (s14, when Dean was going to lock himself in the Ma'lak box cause he was possessed by Michael) and Sam has a desperate breakdown and punches him (to stop him) he forcefully hugs him as the little hugger, the way Dean always kept him, like a way of saying "I still need you to protect me, please don't do this to yourself".
In the scene below he gives Sam his blessing to do a dangerous (possibly suicidal) mission, and one of his arms is down, but the other one tries to stay up--he's forcing himself to do it and he struggles because he still wants to protect him, but (as the seasons progress) he slowly becomes more prone to let go.
So in this view the hug dynamic becomes an indicator of how Dean sees Sam (and himself) and his protector role, how adult and self sufficient he considers Sam, and how much he lets people around him take care of him, lowering his walls and letting himself be hugged.
This is also why i think hugs from characters like Garth or Charlie are so special, because they're just like us: they see Dean and they just know that he needs to be hugged a lot, and that he's not used to it, so they just go for it-- and it's so normal and kind and spontaneous that Dean's just not used to it-- he doesn't know how to respond (especially with Garth, at the beginning, but as the seasons progress, he learns to, and he even initiates the hug eventually).
youtube
I love the hugs where they're 50/50 (one arm up, one arm down both), feels like they're equals, both taking care of each other. I feel like with Sam and Dean, this indicates a healthier dynamic, because Dean lets go a little of the role that was imposed to him and manages to see Sam as the strong individual that he is. But the same applies to 50/50 hugs with other characters, like with Cas, where I feel like it testifies how equals they feel in terms of being fighters, there's a show of respect of each other's strength that transpires by the gesture (which is even more astounding considering that Cas is literally a powerful angel).
And just to end on a destiel note, I'd like to note the possessiveness and protectiveness of Dean (rightfully so) whenever he finds Cas after he thought he had lost him, and how that translates into his body/hug language:
#dean winchester#spn#dean winchester character study#spn analysis#dean winchester analysis#dean winchester & hugs#dean studies#destiel#deancas#body language#hugs#dean winchester hugs#castiel#sam winchester#sam & dean#sam & dean dynamics#dean x cas#psychology#my thoughts#my interpretation#my analysis#spn gifs#dean winchester gifs#Youtube#long post#but it's mostly many gifs#no that's not true i also wrote a lot (but it's little paragraphs in between more gifs than the mobile app allows)#(I did it from the website to cheat)#(i hope it doesn't lag too much)
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✨Bucking Bronco✨
@bat-boness keeps fucking cooking with their Cowboy Lucifer art and I shall do the same!!! @nayomi247 and @liveontelevision this is your fault too lol, we have now formed a small but mighty Cowboy Lucifer cult fan club
Lucifer x f!sinner reader
Summary: Lucifer finds himself in a punishing situation…
Warnings: 18+, smut, hand job, oral (m receiving), p in v
“You know, this wouldn’t be happening if you would come in from the farm on time, Luci,” you scolded as you finished tying the last knot on his wrists. "I don't think I ask for much."
This was the third night in a row your hardworking husband has missed dinner with you. You let it slide the first night. The second night you gave him a gentle reminder to not overwork himself. But tonight was the last straw. A third night of eating alone with a cold plate of food sitting across the table from you. You loved him dearly, but you hated that his priorities didn’t seem to be in order. You were going to make sure he learned his lesson one way or another. He tried to butter you up as he usually did when he came in from work late, knowing full well what he'd done. You feigned a smile and told him not to give it another thought. You told him to get comfortable and that you would join him upstairs soon. But when you walked into your room with your rope in hand, he gulped. He knew damn well that he was in trouble. You sat him down on the ottoman and wrapped your ropes around his hands and wrists, pinning his arms behind his back, effectively rendering him helpless against your ‘punishment’.
“Darlin’, I-I’m sorry, time just gets away from me sometimes! I-I would never do anything to upset you,” Lucifer stuttered. “P-Please, have mercy…”
You checked the tightness of your ropes before standing in front of your husband, towering over him in his subdued state. “Oh, I’m not upset with you! But since you’ve just been working so hard lately, I thought it’d be mighty kind of me if I helped you relax.” You brought your hand to his chin and had him meet your intense gaze. “Do you want me to help you relax, sweetheart?” you asked, knowing all too well that there was only one answer he could give you.
“Y-yes,” Lucifer responded meekly.
"That's my good boy," you praised, a small whimper escaping Lucifer's throat. You slowly dragged your hand down his open-shirt chest, stopping right above his already very apparent erection. He did his best to buck his hips up in an attempt to create any sort of friction. But all this did was cause you to pull you hand away from him immediately. He whined pathetically. "Behave now," you reprimanded. Lucifer looked up at you with glassy eyes and nodded obediently. You smiled and brought your hand back down to its previous spot, hovering just about his hard-on. You heard Lucifer's breath hitch as you finally placed your palm over his cock that has been painfully straining against his jeans. It took every ounce of willpower in him to remain still while you toyed with him.
"P-Please," Lucifer mewled, "I-I can't...hng..."
You pulled down the zipper to his pants lethargically, watching Lucifer's chest rise and fall more and more rapidly until you finally released his already leaking cock from its confines. "I love how needy you are for me, sweet pea." You gripped his length in your hand and started stroking him meticulously. Lucifer's whines filled the room, you've never heard sweeter sounds than his desperate cries. His precum leaked onto your hand, your jerking motions becoming smoother. You circled your thumb over the head of his cock, applying the lightest of pressure to it. Lucifer cried out as he bucked his hips once more from your teasing. You let go of him again, tears now welling up in his eyes from the loss of your touch.
"I'm sorry!" Lucifer nearly shouted. "D-Don't stop, please...I'll behave, I-I promise!"
"That's strike two, Luci," you warned. "You wouldn't want me to leave you like this, would you now?"
"N-No! Please...", a single tear rolled down his face. You smiled gently and wiped it from his cheek.
"Shh, it's alright," you cooed, "patience, my love. I'll take care of you."
He took a few deep breaths, attempting to calm himself down. He knew deep down you wouldn't leave him in such a desperate and vulnerable state. You knelt down on the ground, gripping his shaft once more. You stuck out your tongue and licked up the length of his cock, tasting all the precum that had spilled out of him. Lucifer's voice caught in his throat; he was beyond forming any coherent sentences at this point. He struggled against his binds, losing grip of his control fast. Your tongue circled his swollen tip, eliciting the smallest yelps from your lover, your hot breath driving him insane. You enveloped him suddenly, bobbing your head up and down, taking as much of him as you could. Lucifer was frozen, he dared not move again in fear of the repercussions. Instead, he was loud, moaning and whining from everything you were giving him in this moment. You let him go with a satisfying pop, flashing a mischievous grin.
"Tell me what you want, sugar," you teased him as your hand replaced your warm mouth. "Use your words."
Lucifer's hat had fallen in front of his face, you could no longer see his eyes. You lifted it up only to see them glowing a bright crimson red, his hunger for you now abundantly evident. "N-Need you," he choked out, "need to feel you, n-now. Please...ride me..."
You smirked at him and nodded. You stood up once more, removing your belt in one swift motion and tossing your shorts off so the side, your soaking pussy now in full view. Lucifer gulped audibly. You straddled yourself against Lucifer's hips, teasing his cock with your dripping folds. You decided to wear his hat on your head instead so that you could clearly see the disheveled mess of a man beneath you. He blushed hard at the sight. You leaned down and planted the tiniest peck to his forehead.
"Now, are you going to be late again?" you questioned playfully.
"N-No," Lucifer promised. "I'll come in from the farm on time, I-I swear! You'll never w-wait for me again!"
"That's exactly what I wanted to hear." You lined yourself up and slowly lowered yourself onto him, taking him an inch at a time. He was thicker than most, so he knew you needed just a little bit longer to adjust to his abnormal size. Not that you minded in the slightest, he was able to hit all of the right spots without even moving. Once you bottomed out on his cock, you both let out a wanton moan. After a few seconds of letting yourself stretch around him, you began to shift your hips. Your sudden movements forced Lucifer to lean against the crook of your neck for support. He felt as though you were trying to milk him dry. Which is exactly what you were doing.
"F-Fuck, Lucifer," you stuttered, "always making me f-feel so good, baby. Look s-so pretty under me..." Lucifer could barely hear your praises over his own sounds. This was pure bliss, but agonizingly torturous at the same time. His bound hands were eager to touch you, to hold you, to feel you.
"My love, please, I-I'm begging, let me go..." he cried into your shoulder. "I'm so so sorry, I-I...please..." You stopped your movement completely and started gently petting the back of his head. How could you deny him any longer?
You reached down and grabbed the sheathed blade that adorned his hip. "Stay perfectly still," you commanded, reaching around and carefully slicing the ties around his arms and wrists, letting the rope fall to the floor. You tossed the knife far away from you while Lucifer's hand immediately gripped your hips.
"T-Thank you, darlin'," he whispered against you, "let me make it up to you now. S-Show you how sorry I really am." Without warning, Lucifer lifted you up only for him to slam you right back down on his throbbing cock. The cry you let out was lustful and wanting. His hips bucked up into you at a relentless pace, your cunt clenching around him desperately while you both chased your highs. You dug your nails into his shoulders for support as he pounded into you over and over. You felt that familiar knot in your stomach growing larger, threatening to snap any given second as your lover pushed you to your breaking point with each thrust.
"L-Luci," you whimpered helplessly, "I'm close, s-so close, mmph, fffffuuu-uuuccck..." Your pleas only seemed to drive him even madder than he already was as one of his hands left your hips, his thumb finding that small sensitive bundle of nerves. You nearly screamed from the new sensation.
"Me too, sweetheart, m-me too, shit,' Lucifer breathed. "Cum f' me, l-let me feel you cum around me..."
With those words, stars clouded your vision. You felt your cunt pulsate around Lucifer's cock, tightening and squeezing him without abandon, your juices leaking onto his lap. Your orgasm pushed your lover over the edge as well, his grunts and whimpers echoing throughout the room as he filled you up to the brim with his hot seed, having to bite down your shoulder as to not lose himself in the pleasure. As you both started to recover from your highs, you cupped Lucifer's face in your hands and brought him in for a deep kiss. Your tongues fought for dominance, still trying to catch your breath in the process. You pulled away from him, his half-lidded eyes gazing up at your adoringly.
"You owe me a new rope," you chastised lovingly.
~~~
I have no real excuse for this :3
#hazbin hotel#lucifer morningstar#hazbin hotel lucifer#hazbin lucifer#lucifer x reader#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer smut#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel smut#BAT THIS IS YOUR FAULT#YOU AND YOUR GOD LIKE ART#hope you like it anyway!
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Game of survival, final hunting...
Pairing: young president! Coriolanus Snow x fem!rebel! reader
Summary: After he catches you, he tries to turn you into a lady who can stand by his side. However, you are not that easy to break... after all, a wild animal in a cage is still a dangerous animal.
Warning(s): 18+; smut scene; Coriolanus Snow being Coriolanus Snow; blood; mention of dying;
Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @il0vebeingdelulu @chelseyyouraverageluigi @divineidolatry @edb954 @missakward123 @blythlover @leclercsgirlshhs @squidscottjeans @theaaeht @yourmomsbjtch @lovelydoveval @staylowessafe @jeanscremebrulee
Coriolanus Snow's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist
One step. Second. Third. Fourth. Keys jingling. The lock is twisted. Then the second one. You hear the door sliding open.
You manage to hold back a hiss as the door to your cell opens and light floods into the small, dark cell, blinding you for a moment. Your eyes, too accustomed to the dark, are watering and blinking rapidly as the light enters through your pupils.
"Rise and shine. I hope you're in a much better mood today." Coriolanus says, placing the tray of food on a small crate. He walks over to you and uncuffs your ankles and wrists from the handcuffs attached to the wall.
You fall into his arms after your aching, tired muscles from spending the night suspended against the cold wall of the cell can no longer hold you.
"I know, little hunter. This didn't make me happy at all. You know I don't like punishing you. But yesterday, you crossed the line. We're in the Capitol, not in the District. You can't cut off the fingers of my peacekeepers and expect not to be punished for it." He explains to you, scolding you like a little child as he gently sets you down on the makeshift bed. He runs a hand through your sweaty hair and reaches for your wrist to wipe away the blood that had flowed from the wound the handcuffs had caused.
"You… despise… them…" You speak in a hoarse voice. You hadn't had water in your mouth since last morning, but you weren't going to submit to him because of it and obediently listen to his lectures. You've been through worse, running away from him.
"True. But they are useful. And maybe you were right to cut off his finger for touching you where he shouldn't have, but it's my job to punish people for desecrating what's mine, not yours. We need to temper your thorns, petal, before I announce to the world that you will be my first lady. Next time, let's try to make it less gruesome, shall we?"
You would snort or roll your eyes if you had enough strength. Instead, you rest your head against the wall and close your eyes, as you are letting him bandage your wrists and ankles. He gently wipes away the dried blood and applies some ointments to the areas of your skin that were most abraded—evidence of your feeble attempt to escape and break free from these stupid shackles.
This has become a routine between the two of you. He tried to turn you into his first lady, and every time you showed your true colours and tried to get away from him, he locked you in here. For a day, two, or a week. You will never be able to determine exactly how long you have been hanging on the wall.
And then, moments like these came.
"You know you won't make it? I am and always will be from the district. You should have killed me ages ago." You mumble as much as your dry throat allows. Coriolanus, however, as usual, doesn't care much about your sarcastic remarks.
However, he lets go of your wrists and reaches for the water bottle, pressing it to your lips. You drink slowly, keeping your eyes on his blue irises, which always seem to be watching you intently.
You had long ago stopped trembling under his gaze, but there was something about him that wouldn't let you take your eyes off him. You wanted to think it was caution—the hunter's innate, eternal vigilance. But both you and Coriolanus knew very well that the reason you couldn't tear your eyes away from each other just like that was something more than your distrust for one another.
"I would let you go for the names of all the rebels. You know it well." He says this, throwing away the empty bottle. He wipes away the drops of water that have trickled down your chin and throat with his thumb and traces the line of your lips for a moment, caressing them.
"Of course, Mr. President. You would surely let me go. By extending my cage's run to your gardens." You mock him, and he just smiles slightly. He huffs, shaking his head as he pulls you into his arms and walks out. You might have found it romantic if he hadn't trapped you in that small, dark room or forced you to play the role he had assigned you.
"The reason for all the problems we have, is that you can't trust me." He states it matter-of-factly as he helps you sit on the armchair in his bedroom.
He ignores your angry glare and takes off your sweaty and dirty clothes. He takes you in his arms again and carries you to the bathroom, despite your attempts to break free from his arms. He carefully lowers you into the tub filled with warm water and foam. It smells like roses. Damn bastard.
"Because what you're doing now is giving me a hell of a lot of reasons to trust you." You growl in anger, pushing his hands away from you. Coriolanus grabs your chin tightly, forcing you to look into his icy blue eyes.
"Behave. We're not in the district." He reminds you with a cool tone of voice.
If he thought for even a moment that you would take on the role of his obedient pet, he was very wrong. You would have bitten off his finger to prove your point, but the prospect of another few nights in the cell had effectively dissuaded you from that tempting idea. At least for now.
You glare at him with an equally stubborn gaze, pulling your chin from his grip by tilting your head back. Coriolanus sighs, reaching for the bottle of shampoo. Without taking his eyes off yours, he begins to gently wash your hair, which you reluctantly allow him to do. The bastard gave good head massages. You could have let him have that false sense of gaining a little advantage. After all, you had been hanging for God knows how long, chained to that wall... or rather, the devil kneeling next to your bathtub.
"Why did you do that?" You ask with a shaky voice, breaking the silence between you as he reaches into the water to gently pour over the skin of your collarbones. He strokes your neck lazily, making you shiver under the touch of his rough, large hands.
"Specify. You obviously hold a lot of grudges against me if you came here after all these years with the intention of killing me... however pathetic and false this reason for your arrival may sound."
"False? I intended to kill you." You say, more furious with the stoic calm he displayed than with the fact that he dared to question the reason for your fateful arrival at the Capitol. Although, maybe you shouldn't be surprised? After all, it probably wasn't the first attempt on his life...
"Of course, little hunter." He replies, amused, thoroughly rinsing the foam from your hair. As he gently runs his fingers through them, you wonder what he said.
He couldn't be right. You came here for one simple purpose: to kill him. So why did your heart skip a beat when he declared that you were bluffing and fooling yourself? It could have been because of his closeness, how he was overwhelming you, and how both his warmth and his scent made you crazy, taking you back to those peaceful days in District 12 when you didn't know what a monster he was. But everything between you and Coriolanus ended a long time ago, right?
"Why did you kill Sejanus and Lucy Gray?" You ask, trying to stubbornly focus on the reason for your anger towards him, trying to push away the poisonous thoughts this snake has put into your head.
"I didn't kill them." You shudder as he spreads cold bath liquid over your heated body while whispering his answer.
You frown and turn your head, looking at him willingly for the first time. His eyes are focused on your body, though, as he slowly explores your body with his hands, caressing your skin. You see in his eyes how he reminds himself of the times when you two used to wash each other more often and in... much better circumstances. At least for you.
"So what? You sent them to the bottom of the ocean for a vacation?" You ask mockingly, pushing away his wandering hand that started to move too dangerously down your stomach. His eyes meet yours. You flinch as he takes your hand in his and guides it to where he wants it as he continues to wash you.
"Why? You want to join them?" His tone is laced with amusement as you unsuccessfully try to resist him. He finally stands up, grabs a towel, and lays it out for you, waiting for you to get out of the tub and let him dry you off.
"I want you to join them." You say, turning your back to him and standing up. He laughs softly, steps closer, and wraps the towel tightly around you, pressing his torso against your back. You shiver as you feel his breath on your neck.
"Not going to happen, my little hunter." His soft whisper, combined with his tight grip around you and the scent of roses that fills the bathroom after your forced bath, makes you feel even more trapped than when you were hanging against the wall. It was a difficult achievement, but you should've gotten used to the fact that, for him, nothing was impossible.
"Just answer the question." You reply stubbornly, brushing his arms off of you and turning to face him, keeping an iron grip on the towel.
"Why? So you can be under the illusion that I am not a monster and that you can feel something for me without feeling guilty? Or perhaps to make it easier for you to kill me?" He asks, running his hands through your wet hair before cupping your cheek. His thumb collects the drops of water that fall from your hair onto your temple and cheek, caressing your skin tenderly.
"I feel nothing but hatred for you. And believe me, when the time comes, nothing will stop me." You growl at him, furious. You push him away and get out of the tub.
He clicks his tongue, displeased more with the way the water drips from you onto the white marble floor of his bathroom than with the fact that you are desperatly tring to oppose him.
"You've always been a terrible liar, my darling. You are a much better hunter... but as you can see, not all of your prey fall into your traps."
"A mistake I intend to fix."
"Are you under the illusion that I'll give you a chance to do this?" He aks, following you as you exit the bathroom. He is using a tone of voice that reminds you of the way parents are scolding their child. You hear how bored he is and you feel your anger grow even more as he doesn't even try to take your threats seriously.
You don't respond to his taunt. You push past him and go back to his room, only to stand frozen in the middle when you see a blood-red dress with red rubies sewn onto the bodice on the bed.
"What is it?" You ask him angrily, turning to face him, knowing full well that the bastard was standing leaning against the doorframe with that shitty, smug smirk on his face you have learned to hate with the time you have spent with him recently.
"A dress."
"That I can tell. Why are you ordering me to put one?" You fold your arms, making sure the towel doesn't fall off of you, as his piercing blue eyes are focused only on you.
"Ordering? I wouldn't order anything to my sweet fiancèe."
"What?" You ask in pure shock as he steps closer to you. You step back with every step he takes until you feel the cool window pane against your back. You curse under your breath as he walks over to you with a smirk and lifts your hand, slipping the ring onto it. A fucking gold ring with a big white diamond.
"You didn't understand?" He asks with a mocking, dark chuckle that makes you question how much you actually know about this man and the customs of the Capitol. You knew that if Coriolanus Snow planned something, there was nothing you could do to stop him. And when he became president... his room for manoeuvre only increased.
"You are mad to think that I will marry you and that society of Capitol will accept our sick marriage." You tell him, happy that he walks away from you, but only to grab the dress and hand it to you.
"Why? After all, you are Y/N Y/L/N. The long lost descendant of an important general who died in the dark days. I found you and took you from the district to the Capitol, I returned you to your rightful place. And now you are recovering from the trauma you experienced."
"Nice story. How many people did you kill or bribe to make people believe in this?" You look down from him to the dress you held in your hands to avoid meeting his piercing eyes. The bastard knew how much you fucking loved it.
By the way, you were surprised at how well he remembered your preferences after so many years... because you were absolutely convinced that the dress you were currently holding in your hand was one of Tigris' designs that you had praised when you exchanged letters.
"No one died. And no one will die if you will cooperate with me, my little doom." He says, cupping your chin between two fingers and making you look straight into his eyes again. You swallow, trying to bear his burning gaze. He smiles wolfishly and kisses your lips gently, unhurriedly. Savouring the win. At least until you push him away, to which he just shakes his head with a smirk. You hate yourself for wanting to straighten the strand of his hair that fell on his forehead. "Dress up. You have underwear in the dresser. Choose something nice. And remember. One wrong move, and you're back in your cage. And that would be a terrible pity. The chefs prepared your favourite dishes for our engagement party. I'm sure you'll also enjoy some of the delicacies from the Capitol. I'll be waiting for you downstairs, my darling."
"You can kiss my ass!" You shout after him as he walks towards the exit, giving you some semblance of privacy to change and get dressed.
"Later, little hunter." He replies, unfazed by your outburst, and leaves, closing the door behind him. Locked, of course. You were always in a cage. Either a cold, musty cell, an exclusive bedroom, or the arms of that slimy, poisonous snake. And the worst of it all was that it was the first option that started to scare you the most.
"Don't eat so quickly. They'll think we started trying for an heir too soon, my dear." Snow admonished you with a quiet whisper in your ear as he approached you from behind, gently pressing his chest against your back as he wrapped his arm around your waist. You almost spit out your food at the thought of giving him any heirs.
Although you had plans for it in District 12. Two boys and one girl. You even had names. Crassus Xanthos, Adeline Rose, and Cardan Xenos. How stupid and naive you were back then.
"Well, maybe if you hadn't locked me up without food, I wouldn't have to make up for God knows how much time I spent without it." You reply grumpily, but you listen to him and slow down your eating pace a little.
"If you behaved like a lady and not a savage from the district, I wouldn't have to do this. Besides, I thought you didn't believe in God?"
"I have to. What other explanation is there for why devils like you exist in this world?" You answer very seriously, obviously mocking him. He rolls his eyes at you and looks around, making sure no one is listening to your conversation. The last thing he wants is you, spoiling the picture of a perfect copule he made up for the Capitol masses.
"I don't think that's exactly the right thing to say to your fiancé, my lovely little rebel." He replies, adjusting the necklace around your neck. You shiver as his fingertips brush against the skin of your collarbone, hating yourself for how pleasant that small touch felt.
For a moment, you wonder what would happen if you hit him and whether the ridiculously large ring he gave you would accidentally gouge out his eye in the process. You have to test it someday...
"So suddenly you want to play the conservative, exemplary couple?" You ask mockingly, playing with the sleeve of your dress, trying to ignore the hateful glances the harpies were giving you for ruining their plans to settle down the great President Snow.
"I told you this before, Y/N. All that stands in the way of our happiness is your childishness, idiotic stubbornness, and lack of trust. I took care of you in District 12, I met your every need, and I protected you from every other man who tried to lay his finger on you, including the commander. I risked my future for you more than once. Do you think that I have suddenly changed completely? That I am not able to feel the same as before and take care of what is mine?"
"Wait... you killed Hoff?" You ask in shock, trying to hold on to that one sentence he had said. You won't let that bastard make you feel guilty. "I never asked you about any of these things. You did it all by yourself. Because you wanted to. Because you got something out of this. So don't try to pull the wool over my eyes and tell me that you're my hero, because even now, when you are trying to turn me into a Capitol girl, you are doing it only for your benefit and entertainment."
"You could show some gratitude. If I wanted, I could easly have any woman here. And they would bring me much more than you."
"Would they? Would they be able to fill the void left by me? Because that was the point, right? You saw me everywhere. In everything. You couldn't get rid of the ghost of our past, and it made you feel crazy. Maybe even mad and lonely. I'm only here for your mental health. To tie up loose ends, right, Coriolanus?"
Your mockery finally throws him off balance. His calm, indifferent façade breaks before you. You see the burning anger in his eyes as he takes a step towards you, closing any space between you. However, he's still composed enough to remember that you're both in a public place, so instead of reaching for your neck, he cups your cheek, holding you tightly. He leans down, pressing his temple to yours to whisper in your ear.
"I could kill you so quickly, painfully and silently that no one would notice your sudden disappearance..."
"But then you'd also be burying your sanity with me, right? You know... I heard you screaming after me in the forest all these years ago. Your desperate pleas for me not to leave you. The only person who showed you warmth, compassion, and care, who wasn't related to you, who didn't have to do it out of any sick sense of duty or fear. Tell me, do you still have your mother's shawl that I dropped when I ran away from you? Does it still smell like me?"
You keep pushing him to the edge of his patience, hoping he'll break and show all these people who gathered to celebrate your fake engagement what he really is. But instead of causing a scene, he just growls into your ear before capturing your lips in a passionate, aggressive kiss. He takes advantage of your shock as you gasp, allowing his tongue to invade your mouth.
Kissing Coriolanus has always been like this. A passionate, possessive fight between you. Everything or nothing. Either completely gentle and tender or a breathtaking, mind-blowing experience. And you hated yourself for how easily you found yourself in his arms and close to his body as he pressed you to him, trying to vent the burning anger (that you aroused in him) on your lips. A clever bastard.
Before he pulls away from you, he bites your lower lip in some twisted act of punishment. You lick your lips as he pulls away, tasting your blood on the tongue.
"For your own good, you should learn when to shut your damn, pretty mouth." He growls, moving away from you. He discreetly wipes your lipstick from his mouth with a tissue and hands it to you, so you can also fix the makeup he ruined. And you try your hardest to ignore the looks other people give you. You're fucking blushing anyway.
"I am not a puppet you can control." You say, trying to maintain some semblance of control over the situation.
"I never wanted you to be one. It would be so boring… after all, it's so much more fun to break you down every time you're hoping you'll escape and have someone at your side who actually uses brain cells.. Nothing can tear us apart, Y/N. I won't let you run away from me again. The hunt and chase are over, my little hunter. Even death won't separate us, because I swear I will take you with me everywhere, even to my own grave." He mumbles, his nose brushing against yours. You feel his breath on your cheek as he places his hands on your shoulders, making sure you don't run away from him. You shiver when he touches the bare skin of your arms. He gives you a cocky smirk, well aware of what the closeness between the two of you is doing to you.
From the outside, to casual observers, it might have looked like an ordinary, loving conversation between two people who couldn't keep their hands off each other. You should get used to the fact that people's eyes will always be on you and that Coriolanus can whisper death threats with the most tender expression on his face.
You move away from him and reach for the champagne the waiter hands you. You take a sip, ignoring Coriolanus' glare, but as soon as the liquid slides down your throat, you feel like you've swallowed corrosive acid. You drop your glass in shock, shattering it on the floor, and you grab your throat, coughing.
Blood flows from your mouth, soaking the neckline of your dress as you lose control and spitting the red liquid onto the floor as you kneel, unable to steady yourself on your shaking legs.
Poison. Coriolanus poisoned you. He was planning your death all along. How wrong you were...
But why would he do it this way? Why now, in public and not in the privacy of his residence, taking his revenge? Why was he keeping you alive for so long, under the pretext of making you a resident of the Capitol and his polite, obedient little fiancée and future wife and First Lady?
And when he kneels next to you, taking you in his arms and holding you, as panic begins to form around you from the screams of the crowd and their chaotic footsteps, you become even more confused. His eyes are all you can look at when you are struggling for air.
The chandelier above him causes you to see a golden halo-like glow around his head. The thought crosses your mind that this is what Lucifer must have looked like before he became a fallen angel. This is how you were supposed to die. In the arms of the devil. The devil that you yourself allowed to get close to you.
"You did great, my love." You hear him whisper in your ear. Before you drift off into the darkness, you feel him place something cold against your lips, forcing the thick, bitter liquid down your throat.
The first thing you feel after regaining consciousness is a terrible pain in your throat. As if it had turned into a real desert. You are convinced that this is hell. It's only when you realise you're lying on soft red silk sheets, on the familiar bed that belonged to Coriolanus, that you realise you're still in YOUR hell. Unfortunately, you cannot say which option was worse: meeting the real devil or facing the blonde demon in a red suit again.
You open your eyes slowly, gratefully accepting that you are surrounded by darkness, illuminated only by the faint glow of moonlight that filters through the half-covered windows.
You are hit by the strong scent of roses next to you. You freeze, feeling Coriolanus's arm wrapped tightly around your waist. Only now do you realise that he is lying right next to you, his face turned towards you. He breathes easily and calmly. His usually combed and slicked hair is slightly messy, which only adds to his charm and makes you want to run your hand through it and feel its softness (an opportunity you were deprived of in District 12 during his time as peackeeper). You almost forget that he poisoned you at the party. Almost.
You slowly try to slide his arm off of you and get out of bed. You manage to sit up, but when you gently push his arm off of you, he immediately wakes up. He automatically reaches for your wrist and locks it in a tight grip. He looks at you, blinking a few times before he wakes up enough to realise what's happening around him.
"You finally woke up. Dr. Gaul said it might take you some time. You're not as resistant to poisons as I am yet, my darling, but we'll change that soon." He assures you, sitting on the bed as well. He places his hand on your jaw and forces you to open your mouth so he can check your throat. You don't fight him for now; you are too tired from the events of a few hours ago to try to stand up to him like you always do. Besides, you'd rather have him checking and treating you than that crazy woman.
The concern shining in his eyes tells you that if he wanted to kill you, he wouldn't be giving you the antidote, checking your injuries right now, or sleeping and watching over you in his bed, playing the role of nurse to help you recover.
So you have no fucking idea why he let you drink the poison from the glass. Nor who put it there.
"What happened…" You try to ask, but as quickly as you speak, you feel your throat begin to scratch. A new wave of coughing comes over you. You cover your mouth with your hand, choking as blood sprinkles on your hands again. You feel like you're about to hyperventilate or have a full panic attack as you remember the situation from a few hours ago.
"Easy." He whispers, placing his hand on your back. When you finish coughing, he hands you a glass of water. You look at it distrustfully. He sighs, rolling his eyes, and takes a sip. You wait a minute, and when you see that nothing is wrong with him, you take it from him and drink. "This should explain everything to you."
He takes a folded piece of paper from his pants pocket and unfolds it. He places it on your lap. You freeze for a moment at the image of yourself.
"Wanted poster. District 13, as your little rebel group called itself, has put a large bounty on your head. And this evening, they carried out an attack on you. Something about getting to me through you. The peacekeepers couldn't get anything more out of the rebels they caught before... I think you know what happened to them. You have become their next arch-enemy. Almost as big as me."
"At least they did a better job with my portrait. What you told your dogs to show around the districts did not fully reflect my beauty." You wheeze as you try to speak. You see, he's not happy about you trying to use your voice.
Coriolanus sits next to you again, and despite your silent protests, he pulls you into his arms, making you lean against his chest. He puts his chin on your shoulder and shows you some portraits of some people. People you knew well, people you had fought with before against him and the peackeepers. People who poisoned you likely met their own deaths at the behest of a man who wrapped his arms around you, holding you hostage in his bed. Honestly, you'd rather rot in the ground with other rebels who wanted your death and be interrogated by peakceepers than be here with Coriolanus. Or at least, that's what you were telling yourself.
"I did it on purpose. Do you think anyone would believe that you suddenly went from being an enemy and a traitor to the nation to becoming the respected daughter of a general who died in the war?"
"Why are you doing this, Coriolanus? This whole fake performance and show for the Capitol. And that keeping me alive and scaring me with my people—what is it for? What do you want to achieve?" You ask, pausing to sip your water and turning in his arms so you can carefully analyse his face and his reactions to your questions.
"People like us should stay together."
"Like us? I'm nothing like you." You quickly protest, at which he just chuckles, shaking his head. He places his hand on your cheek and strokes it with his thumb, examining your face carefully.
"Now… don't insult my and your intelligence. I know when you're lying, so stop telling yourself these slanderous things, my lovely little hunter. Don't act dumb. You know why I want you. Here. With me on my laps and by my side. Right where you belong." Coriolanus holds you against him possessively, emphasising the validity of his words.
Apart from the delicate, intoxicating scent of roses coming from him and the warmth that emanates from his body, you can feel his heart beating calmly in his chest. A cold chill runs through you at the thought that yours might have stopped pounding like that long ago if he hadn't given you the antidote in time.
"If you really wanted and loved me so much, you would never have let me drink this poison today." You mumble into his neck as you let him hold you, even welcoming the way he lazily massages your scalp and plays with your hair. There is little you can do in your dazed state. You still feel tired from the whole day. Or rather, I spent weeks and months locked in this large villa.
"It's because I love you that I had to do it. If it weren't for that, you wouldn't understand how dangerous these people are. These dogs who chew on the hand of the Capitol that feeds them will do anything to overthrow us and destroy the peace we reached. And I won't let the dark days come again for the Capitol. Our children will not have to starve like we did. I had promised you that, and I intend to keep that promise." He says, pressing a tender kiss to your temple.
You shiver at the familiar feeling of his lips on your skin and the seriousness of the situation this small gesture caused. Once upon a time, these promises seemed sweet to you; they were even a dream come true. Now he was only offering you your worst nightmares on a golden platter.
"I thought then that we would stay in the district. Away from the Capitol, away from the bloodthirsty ambitions of people like Dr. Gaul and the psychopaths who think that killing 24 innocent children every year in some fucking Games is a great idea for entertainment. I thought you were different, that you were capable of love, but now I see that you are a monster, just like they all are."
"Would a monster take care of you? Would I hold you close, try my best to protect you, and make you my First Lady if I were one? Would I forgive you for your escape and betrayal and welcome you with open arms, even after you tried to kill me? What do you think this is if not love?"
"An obsession. The sick desire to have control over another." You say with complete confidence, recalling 'the training' he gave you very clearly. Maybe for him, being locked in a cold cell for a few days wasn't a sign of cruelty, but a way to educate you to be an excellent lady from the Capitol. But you would rather die than become a pretty doll on his shoulder.
"Maybe yes. Maybe I'm obsessed with you. But that doesn't change the fact that you're mine, Y/N. You were always meant to be mine. You better get used to it. I wouldn't want to give you poison without an antidote."
You don't know what's colder, the tone of his voice in which he delivers his warning, or the emptiness you feel when his arms abandon you as he gets out of bed. Either way, you don't feel the sweet taste of victory when he leaves, dramatically slamming the door behind him and, of course, locking you in the room as you are left on your own.
You start to lose control. You can feel it. You were starting to become very attached to him, to his presence, smell, touch, kisses... You were starting to question everything you had ever believed in. He fed you lies that you wanted to believe, and that was the worst. You grab your arm, rubbing it, and the large diamond on your finger mocks you, as it is reflecting in the dim light of the bedroom.
You close your eyes, sighing shakily as you realise your fate. Today's attempt to poison you wasn't just an attempt to kill you or to get to Coriolanus. You knew it. It meant something more. It was a signal. You were supposed to move before they took matters into their own hands.
And for a brief moment, as you played with your engagement ring on your finger, you wondered what would have happened if things had turned out differently. What would life be like if you and Coriolanus ran away together? Maybe you could stop the carnage he caused? Spare human lives by keeping a domesticated Coriolanus on a leash? NO. You shake your head. A caged animal is still a dangerous animal. Not a home-pet. And even if you became his first lady, nothing would change. He won't change. Not like you.
Because the undeniable truth of the world of people who have high ambitions, the ability to carefully observe human behaviour and predict their movements, insight, and perseverance, is that they either live long enough to become a monster or short enough to become a hero. And you promised yourself a long time ago that you would rather die than ever become one of the Capitol's citizens.
One step. Second. Third. You feel your heart beat rapidly in your chest as you sneak through the presidential palace, avoiding the peacekeepers.
You stop and hide behind a pillar, waiting for the two patrolling the corridor that led to Coriolanus' office to pass by you. You hold your breath, listening to a pair of footsteps approach and recede, leaving you alone in the hallway for a moment.
You remember the first night you entered the mansion—the night Coriolanus caught you. You promised yourself that you would not leave the presidential palace until you saw his dead body. And if there was one good thing you had in common with Coriolanus, it was that you always kept the promises you made to each other. Except for one.
You were both breathing heavily as you lay in the small bed in the lake house. Coriolanus held you close to his chest, placing small kisses on your bare shoulder. You sighed, still stunned by your activity from a few moments ago. You turned around, careful not to fall off the small mattress, and clung to his chest, ignoring the smell of the two of you's mixed sweat.
The rain pounded against the roof of the wooden hut, lulling you to sleep in your peacekeeper's arms. You buried your face in his neck, humming as he lazily ran his hand through your hair. You felt peace—a rare and very precious thing in District 12. Coriolanus' arms and his closeness gave you great comfort and a sense of security; it was a promise of a break from reality and entering your world, limited only to the two of you. You've never felt anything like this with anyone else. And you know, you will never be able to feel this way with anyone else.
"Promise that you will never leave me." His soft whisper snaps you from your half-asleep state. You lift your head to look at him, frowning at his strange request.
He had his soft moments, but he had never shown you such a... vulnerable side of himself. Even when you first saw the wounds on his back, or discovered how thin he was under his peackeeper clothes two weeks after he arrived in District 12. Coriolanus trusted no one. Except you. A gift that you valued more than his love, devotion, and desire.
So when you see the hesitation in his eyes and his attempt to retreat into his hard shell, you lean in, connecting your lips in a tender, gentle, slow kiss. You taste his lips as if they were the sweetest nectar; you savour them slowly, only becoming more and more addicted to him. You massage his scalp, pulling him closer to you and straddling him.
You reluctantly pull away from him and look into his eyes as you link your hands and place them on your chest so he can feel your heartbeat. He looks at you, stunned, waiting patiently to see what your next move will be.
"It's yours. It'll always be yours. You stole it from me the day you shot that guy who was trying to get to me and arranged for him to be hanged. You hold it in your iron grip, and you'll have it until the end of time. And I'd rather die than live without my heart, Coryo."
You see that he is touched and that you are slowly breaking down his walls. To avoid showing such weakness, he pulls your head to his neck. He plays with your hair and presses a long kiss on your temple as you lay on top of him. He covers you both with a blanket, and you fall asleep cradled in his arms, lulled to sleep by the beating of his heart and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.
And for a moment, being with him in the privacy of the cabin, you really felt like you were the lucky one.
You shake your head, and before the peacekeeper patrol arrives, you walk to the door of Coriolanus' office. You don't knock. You quietly open the door and step inside. The soft carpet that touches your bare feet is a nice change from the cold marble.
Coriolanus doesn't respond to your silent entrance at first, but it's only when you approach the desk that he senses the presence of someone else in the room. He looks up from the papers on his desk and frowns when he sees you in your nightgown (one of his sleep shirts, that is).
"What are you doing here? The peacekeepers were supposed to keep an eye on you so you didn't go anywhere." He says, pretending his heart didn't beat faster at the sight of you so homely. He's already replaying the fantasy in his head of this becoming your routine. You came to him late at night to distract him from presidential matters and drag him to the warmth of your shared bed. Later. With time. He will be there.
"I needed to talk to you. It was easy to avoid these two to get to your office. As for the remaining 20 in the building, it probably wouldn't have been so effortless to get out of here."
"35. There are also secret passages." He corrects you, putting down the papers he was looking at. "What do you want?" He asks, rubbing his eyes tiredly. You stop your curiosity from looking at the papers and focus your eyes fully on him.
"I was thinking about what happened yesterday… And I came to the conclusion that you might be right."
"Don't you say..." He mutters mockingly, standing up to pour himself some whisky from the bar. He comes back with two glasses, handing you one, to which you just nod politely. He shrugs and pours the liquid into one glass, not taking his eyes from you.
"Do not look at me like this. You know how hard it is for me to admit this. I... since then, in District 12... after Sejanus was hanged and... I could have been blinded by Lucy Gray's grief and resentment towards you. I could believe the picture of the monster she painted. After all, you've known each other longer. You, Sejanus, and her... But you can't blame me for thinking I'd be next." You try to explain your course of action to him. He seems uninterested in it; at least that's what you can tell from his body language. But the eyes... you had studied reading them long enough to be able to read his thoughts in them.
"I don't blame you. I would think the same. I blame you for actually running away with her. That you chose her instead of staying and trusting me." He says, not hiding the hurt in his voice. You lower your head in mock contrition as he downs his drink and places the empty glass on the desk.
"And I regretted it every single day, Coryo." You lie, trying your hardest to make him believe you. You even use his nickname and kneel next to his chair, taking his hands in yours. You don't meet his eyes. You focus your gaze and grap on his hands, knowing all too well that if you look at him, you will reveal your intentions. Because Coriolanus knew you as well as you knew him. "I know it's been hard for you without me... but I haven't had it easy either. I saw you... us... everywhere. I... I wished every day that I was in your arms. That I could somehow feel you next to me, talk to you. And that's why, instead of sinking into my growing despair and longing, I tried to turn this feeling into hatred, but... I can't go on like this anymore... I... I can't pretend that you are my enemy, that I hate you. Because that's not true. It never could be." Only at the end do you dare to look at him, trying to look as uncertain and contrite as you can. "You were right. All this time. I was... too proud to admit it, since I went so far in all of this running away from you and trying to fight you, but I can't do this anymore. I can't deny anymore what my heart wants."
"And what is it?" His whisper is hoarse, and his eyes are completely focused on you. This is a breakthrough moment. The course of events will depend on whether he believes you... but do you really have to put a lot of effort into lying to him?
"You." You confess, bringing complete silence to the room.
You don't know if he decides to ignore your bluff, or if he's fed up with this fight between you and simply needs your closeness, or if you've finally learned to lie so well from him that even he can't tell that you're entirely honest with him, or if you are trying to lie to yourself in an attempt to simplify your mission.
You don't want to know.
That's why, when he suddenly grabs you by the waist and sits you on his lap, you don't protest. Same when he captures your lips in a passionate kiss. The feeling of his soft, plush lips on yours befuddles you for a moment. You forget about your plan and let him caress your lips, giving yourself over again to that familiar, burning feeling that overwhelmed the two of you every time you gave in to your deepest desires.
When he bites your lower lip, demanding full access to your mouth, you remember what you came here for. You let your tongues tangle and sigh softly, accepting, after so many years of separation, that burning sensation spreading from your chest to his touch and closeness. You bite the inside of your cheek and deepen the kiss, your tongue fighting with his for dominance.
You give in, allowing him to place you on his desk. In one quick movement, he throws everything off it onto the floor. The glass shatters, but that's the last thing you notice as you melt into his touch and moan into his lips.
He pulls away for a moment, and you only see the smirk on his face for a brief moment before he dives down to your neck, marking you with his kisses and small bites. His hand slides up your bare leg, making you shiver as it leisurely reaches the hem of (his) shirt you're wearing.
"Coryo." You moan, tangling your hands in his blonde locks at the nape of his neck and pulling him closer to you. You sigh as he pushes his hips into yours at the sudden feeling of your fingers in his hair and tugging—something that was impossible to do in his peacekeeper days.
You hear him growl into your neck. He tries to position you comfortably on his desk so that he has adequate access to you, but suddenly he freezes, and you can see in his eyes that he's changing his mind. You're afraid he might have sensed your trick, but the moment you're back in his arms, you calm down a little.
Coriolanus from District 12 wouldn't care what surface he takes you to. It didn't matter to him at all, as long as you both could hold yourselves in the position he had imagined. That's why you're surprised when he carries you all the way through the presidential palace and into his bedroom, ignoring the brief glances he gets from the surprised peackeepers before they look away in confusion.
As he places you gently on his bed, you almost feel sorry for what you have to do. Almost. His lips on yours effectively drive any logical thought from your head. You can only feel, see, and hear him.
It scares you how much control he has over you and how much you've allowed him to control every little piece of you over the years, even though you were several districts apart. Your foolish heart believed his lies. That you belong to each other. And you're convinced that a few more weeks at his side would make your common sense stop protesting and accept the role he's given you.
But you won't admit to anyone that, in the darkest depths of your heart, you dream of the life he could have given you. About being his First Lady and about the selfish, luxurious life you could lead by his side. But you didn't want to be a monster. You didn't want to become one of them. The fear of this was greater than the fear of what awaited you at the end of the night when you carried out your plan.
But as long as he is with you, you can drown out your heart's cry for the future you could have if you were a little more like Coriolanus. You can pretend and deceive both him and yourself that this night is only the beginning of your wonderful, long future.
You gently push him off of you and onto his back. You sit astride him and lazily place a trail of kisses from his jaw, neck, collarbone, chest, and toned stomach down. Before you get to where he needs you most, he grabs your neck and pulls you closer to kiss you hard and possessively. He tangles his hand in your hair and moves to rest against the headboard of the bed.
You both moan, resting your foreheads against each other as you lower yourself onto his length. He holds you in a tight embrace, his breathing getting heavier, and you know it's not just because he's excited about what you're doing now.
You wrap your arms around him, holding him as tight and close to you as he is holding you. Your walls tighten around him as you slowly move, settling on a ridiculously slow pace compared to how you used to be madly chasing your peaks.
This is a completely different type of intimacy. You're glad he can't see your face, because he would definitely read the guilt and bitterness you feel when he moans your name and sweet words into your ear.
"I've waited so damn long to have you again. My little hunter. You will be a beautiful bride and a stunning First Lady. Nothing will stand in our way. My darling. My sweet poison. My greatest pursuit and reward. I will give you the life we dreamed about in District 12. All you have to do is stay and trust me."
You nod, moaning as he picks up the pace. You dig your nails into his shoulders as you feel how close you are to reaching your edge.
"Promise. Promise me it will never happen again. That you are mine, and you will stay with me, right where you belong. Promise me, Y/N." He grabs you tightly by the neck and forces you to look into his eyes. You shed tears that he licks away, mistaking them for tears of pleasure as he presses himself relentlessly into your most sensitive spot.
Little does he know that these are tears of guilt that you shouldn't feel. But you can't convince your foolish heart otherwise. Not when he's buried deep inside you and looks at you like you're his whole world.
"I… I promise, Coryo." You moan and tangle your hand in his hair, pulling him in for a kiss to take his burning, searching gaze away from your face. He pushes you onto your back and hugs you tightly as he pounds into you with newfound speed, aroused by the promise you just made to him. He sucks on your skin, littering it with hickeys, as if you weren't marked enough by him in his mind. As if he hadn't already completely penetrated your soul.
You scream his name, hugging him painfully tight as you come. You feel a great sense of bliss that you haven't felt in a long time. You're completely dazed, feeling nothing but the rapid thrusts as your lover and greatest enemy chases his orgasm to join you in the orgasmic haze. Coriolanus comes a moment after you, crashing into your mouth hungrily, making you both swallow each other's moans as you two are experiencing the greatest bliss in your life.
He pulls you along with him as he lays down on the mattress. He still holds you in a possessive, strong hug, afraid that you will run away from him or suddenly disappear at any moment. You bury your face in his neck and place small kisses there, drawing lazy patterns with your finger on his chest.
"I love you." He mumbles and presses a kiss on your forehead. You tilt your head to look at him briefly. Before he can read anything from your eyes, you lean in and connect your lips in a slow, tender kiss. You cup your hand around his cheek and stroke his skin with your thumb. You pull away from him. Coriolanus grabs your wrist and moves his head to kiss the palm of your hand and the finger on which you had his engagement ring.
"I love you too." You whisper and snuggle into him. Coriolanus holds you tightly, sighing with relief. Finally. The moment he had waited for since he saw you entering his presidential palace.
He begins to feel tired as the adrenaline wears off and his heart beats slower and slower. He shifts you off his chest as he finds it increasingly difficult to breathe with you on top of him, but he still holds you close to him, always having at least one hand wrapped tightly around you.
You stare into each other's eyes until he's so tired he can't keep them open anymore. He falls asleep, his face turned towards you, and you can't help but trace the line of his jaw with your hand, caressing him gently.
It was an equal fight and chase.
Coriolanus made only one serious mistake. Enough to seal the fate of the two of you.
He forgot himself, deeming you a non-threat, and left you alone in his bedroom. Exactly where he kept all the poisons he had already become immune to.
It was too easy to secure a few vials and send a message to the other rebels. And you had huge doubts as you implemented this multi-step plan, but you were there. You patiently made it to the end. His own and Coriolanus Snow's.
You bit through the vial of poison sewn into your cheek, drawing blood, and let it pass into Coriolanus' mouth as he kissed you hungrily in his office a few hours ago.
And now, you lay next to him, staring at him as he sleeps peacefully next to you. He was breathing evenly, like you; your pulse slowly decreased, as did the rate of your breaths. He looks like an angel with his hair spread out on the pillow. You were supposed to hand him over to the devil himself. Yourself too.
You closed your eyes as you started to feel the effects of the poison.
You nuzzle your nose into his chest, inhaling his scent. Roses overwhelm your senses. His scent and the warmth radiating from him lull you to sleep next to him. The last one, you think to yourself as he buries his nose in your hair and tightens his grip on you.
Hunters sometimes died in pursuit of their prey, bringing an end to both them and themselves. Both you and Coriolanus could have predicted that you would be each other's end. At least it wasn't as bloodthirsty and drastic as the outcome could have been, you think as you fall asleep cuddled together.
#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow x y/n#young coriolanus snow#oneshot#coriolanus snow#tbosbas#coriolanus snow x you#corionalus snow#toxic relationship#dark coriolanus snow#smut#coriolanus snow smut#coriolanus x reader#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#the hunger games#coriolanus x you#coriolanus smut#snow lands on top#coriolanus x y/n
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yandere boss when you find another job
warning: fem reader, yandere themes, obsessive behavior, abuse of power
At first, he notices a change in your demeanor, you do as you're told but you don't engage with him as much as you used to, the conversations you two had felt quite..personal to him, you two would talk in his office where no one would overhear or interfere, you even had inside jokes that only you two would understand, it felt special to him, so when conversations with you wouldn't go past five sentences alarms started going off in his head, did he say something to upset you? has one of your co-workers been bothering you? just tell him he can take care of it in the blink of an eye! it's not like it would be the first time he's done that for you. Perhaps your workload has been too exhausting? he'll happily give you a vacation if it means you'll treat him how you used to
This man reflects for a whole day to make he didn't upset you in any way, he gives you simple errands and prolongs your breaks but that only seems to spark even more of an unpleasant emotion in you, he replays all the security cameras in the office to see if someone has been harassing you which doesn't turn out to be the case but it does lead him to notice you being on the phone more often than usual and his mind immediately goes south, has she gotten a boyfriend? when? how have I not noticed this..
He backtracks all your calls to find out who you've been talking with so he can deal with them properly but he finds that most of your calls have been with another company..what would you need from another company? a job application? you were planning on leaving him?!
He becomes so paranoid, he goes to every length possible, he makes everyone in the office guilt trip you into staying with comments on how work would suck if you weren't there, how they would have a crisis every week if you weren't there to handle it quickly and swiftly every time, just what would they do without you?
He almost goes as far as giving you a bad reputation in the company you were planning on applying to when it finally happened..
You walking into his office with the most serious face you've had since he hired you, he listens to you utter the words "I'm resigning" from your beautiful soft lips and the rest is turning into muffled mumbles in his brain because the only thing he's thinking of is locking you both in his office forever where he can keep his eye on you, where you can't run away from him.
You finish the speech you so clearly prepared and exhaled while looking at him expectantly, guilt written all over your face, he doesn't say anything for a few seconds, the silence filling up his spacious office until it's broken with a deep chuckle, your shoulders slump down, that definitely wasn't the reaction you were expecting, he rises from his chair and starts to make his way around the desk to where your standing, the sound of his hitting the floor with every step only makes you more nervous "what could you possibly want from another company love? everything you need is right here!" you shift your weight to step back "I..well I already told you why-" he steps closer invading your space "ah yes you mentioned it but that's simply not good enough, see, all the reasons you've mentioned I can take care of I still fail to see why you would go searching for that somewhere else, could it be me you're escaping?" you're eyes blow wide "no! of course not..look, sir, I'm sorry but even though I know you're fully capable of providing me with what I'm searching for but I've already decided..working with you has been-" you jolt as he slams his hand on the desk trapping you against it, his head hangs low for a second before he lifts it and your heart skips a beat at the look in his eyes, you've never seen him look at you that way the entire time you've worked here " ah..your behavior over the past two weeks makes sense now, you were too guilty to act the way you usually do because you knew it was special too! and you just couldn't bring yourself to do that when you were planning on leaving..oh you sweet little thing, it must have been so hard to act so cold towards someone so special to you but alas, your efforts are in vain because you're not going anywhere my love.."
#yandere boss#yandere boss x reader#yandere oc#yandere x reader#yandere blog#yandere character#male yandere#yandere boss headcanon#I should be sleeping#inspiration comes when you're abt to pass out ig lol#yandere fanfiction#I lowkey hate this TT#tw yandere#fem reader
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♡ Astro Love Observations ♡
~ Give me everything tonight~
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♦️♡♦️Juno aspecting the ascendant/Juno in the 1st house: Husband/Wife material, these people charm everyone when they met new people. People become attached so fast with this aspect and some people can see you as a wife/hubby material, also these natives are extremely loyal in relationships
♦️♡♦️Juno in the 7th house/Juno in Libra/Juno aspecting Venus, makes the native very charming and flirty, they are so curious when they start a relationship and want to know everything about the other person, they can develop feelings very fast aswell
♦️♡♦️Juno in the 11th house/Juno in Aquarius/Juno aspecting Uranus, gives the native a flow of energy that so many love, a lot of people like to have such people around because of their charisma and their authenticity, friends to lovers kind of love/relationship 💗
♦️♡♦️Juno in the 5th house/Juno in Leo/Juno aspecting the Sun makes the native to have a unique charisma and that can often attract people into them, their personality is so warm and welcoming, 🥹💗 the spouse can be obsessed with them at this point 👉🏼💗
♦️♡♦️The ascendant in the Juno persona chart can tell about a important thing in your relationship/something you and your specific person have special, for example Gemini Asc in the Juno Persona Chart can be communication with each other and expressing your feelings together 💗
♦️♡♦️Juno aspecting the asteroid of love Eros [433], your relationship with your specific person is gonna be so intense 🔥🔥, definitely something hot is going around 👀
♦️♡♦️Eros asteroid [433] - Mars aspects = 👀🔥👀, these natives are so sensual and so sexy 😍, they definitely like to do dirty things 😭
♦️♡♦️Asteroid Cupido [763] - Lilith aspects = Now, natives with these aspects love deep and hard they become attach very easily and can catch feelings so fast for a person in just seconds, they are radiating attractive energy so easy is 🤌🏼🤌🏼🤌🏼
♦️♡♦️Asteroid Cupido [763] in the 6th/10th/11th houses, with this asteroid in those houses makes the people around you to find you attractive and aswell at your job, colleagues can end up crushing over you and that can happen randomly sometimes
♦️♡♦️Venus - Neptune aspects can fall in love very easily and blindly sometimes, they really want to feel love and feel loved by their specific person, even with them being delulu sometimes, their love is still pure
♦️♡♦️ Having a Stellium in the 7th house (3 or more than 3 planets in that house) makes the native to want to be relationship very bad, esp if Venus is there, the native will seek for a partner and for love/bounding
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And you're here in my heart
And my heart will go on and on
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♦️♡♦️ Having a Libra Moon or Moon in the 7th house, makes the native to seek for romance from a young age, most of times these natives want to have a relationship and someone to love, and also if they are single they can be depressed because of this
♦️♡♦️Sun/Moon in the 8th house have this mystic aura that can make other attracted into them, they are full of secrets and shadows embraced by romance
♦️♡♦️Venus in fire signs makes the native to be flirty and to have this unique charisma that makes people to be into them and to be very interested about these natives, Alexa Demie (the girl who plays Maddie in Euphoria has a Sag Venus and she attracts a lot of people with her looks and her charisma)
♦️♡♦️Ascendant - Venus aspects: Your beauty makes other people to be very interested in you, 😍🤌🏼 you can have a certain thing about your style that other people might like, it can be the way you dress or something physical (applying for both harsh and positive aspects)
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It's been said and done
Every beautiful thought's been already sung
And I guess right now, here's another one
So your melody will play on and on, with the
best of 'em
You are beautiful, like a dream come alive
Incredible
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♦️♡♦️Ascendant - Pluto aspects: Your mysticism babe 😍🤌🏼, because of your misterious nature you can attract a lot of people, often people can talk about you and how misterious you are, that makes them crazy (apllying for both harsh and positive aspects)
♦️♡♦️ Ascendant - Neptune aspects: Your aura enchants many people's hearts, the way you look might be enchanting and dreamy, your eyes pay an important role in this, natives with these aspects have beautiful eyes 😍🤌🏼
♦️♡♦️ Earth Mars or Mars in Earth Degrees [2°, 6°, 10°, 18°, 22°] - the way you are giving "Boss" energy is immaculate, that makes people to find you very charming and attractive (The energy is not always dominant but rather submissive for those with Virgo and Virgo Degrees, that can also be attractive because a lot of people like the submissiveness/kinks)
♦️♡♦️Jupiter in Libra/In the 7th house or at Libra Degrees [7°,19° degrees ] , i don't have enough words these placements 😭💗 is just so romantic and so cute, your spouse is literally the most romantic person out there and that type of person who is like "For you i would do everything" this placement radiates ultra Romeo and Juliet vibes 🤌🏼💗🤌🏼
♦️♡♦️Jupiter in Sagittarius/9th house, or at Sag Degrees [9°,21°] These placements are so 🥹 cute to have, your spouse is that type of person like "I will always be by your side" is because you can learn from each other and to explore each other in such cute eyes, your spouse can be very optimistic and generous often known because of their golden heart 🥹💗🤌🏼
♦️♡♦️Jupiter in Virgo/6th house, or at Virgo Degrees [6°, 18°] These placements are so special, even with Jupiter being in detriment in Virgo the energy is still felt, your spouse is that type of person who likes to help others when they need to be very kind in general, your spouse is someone who works hard for their dreams someone very ambitious, the type of "We go through this together, okay Darling?" 😭🤌🏼💗💗💗💗 Even in Vedic chart to have this placement is screaming cuteness/you can both meet at work/job
♦️♡♦️Jupiter in Leo/Jupiter in the 5th house or at Leo Degrees [5°, 17°. 29°] these placements are giving and screaming royalty relationship, is that type of "You deserve to be treated like a queen because you are my queen" 😭💗 I swear this placement is so romantic, your spouse can seek for your attention so much and so often when they want your attention they become clingy and it so cute 😭🤌🏼 GOD this is so eidjfkeoekekmw cute
♦️♡♦️ Venus in the last houses of a chart [10th, 11th, 12th houses] Saturn, Uranus and Neptune have influence over these houses, most natives with Venus in these houses can often experience stages of Deja Vu when they met someone, even creating spiritual dreams about it
♦️♡♦️Venus - Uranus aspects can often attract different types of partners, your next partner can have something different than your ex and it goes on and on [if you identify as LGBTQ+ these placements can often attract people from the same gender]
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No one compares
You stand alone, to every record I own
Music to my heart that's what you are
A song that goes on and on
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♦️♡♦️ Having Prominent Pisces or Libra [in the big 3/big 6] in your chart makes you a hopeless romantic, you hope for finding true love and you wish for a long relationship beside the person you love the most in this world 🌎🥀
♦️♡♦️ Scorpio or Capricorn [in big 3/in big 6] in your chart makes someone very loyal and serious about their relationships and about their partners, they are here to jump from bed to bed but rather to make a serious long relationship with someone they truly love
Big 3: Sun, Moon and Rising/Ascendant
Big 6: Sun, Moon, Rising, Venus, Mars, Mercury
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Today i come with a very lovely post guys 😍, is about passion, love, romance, and sensuality. I really hope you like such content is so lovely to make it because I love to combine astrology and relationships especially this type of content 😍
I hope you have a good start of week 😍💗! Anndddd never forget to share your love so you will receive love aswell!💗💗💗💗
Harmoonix 💋
#astrology#astro observations#birth chart#astrology observations#astro notes#astro community#ascendant#horoscope#zodiac#juno asteroid#asteroid observations#juno in the 1st house#juno in the 7th house#juno in Libra#Juno in Aquarius#Juno in the 5th house#Juno in Leo#Neptune#popular#fyp2023#jupiter in libra#Jupiter in the 7th house#jupiter in sagittarius#Jupiter in the 9th house#jupiter in virgo#Jupiter in the 6th house#jupiter in leo#jupiter in the 5th house#scorpio placements#capricorn placements
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Life's Too Short - Rooster
Pairing: Rooster / GN!Reader
Length: 1.3k
This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only
Warnings: Mentions of Toxic Work Environment; Shitty Coworkers; Crying; Angst; Career Change; Gender Neutral Reader; No Use of Y/N; No Physical Description of Reader
Summary: Your life has been completely taken over by your toxic job. Rooster gives you the support you need to leave it behind.
Master List
Driving to meet your boyfriend for dinner after work, you sniffled and tried to hold your composure. You didn’t want to spend your entire time with Bradley just ranting about the assholes who were currently making your life a living hell, but it felt like the second that you started talking about work, you couldn’t stop.
Your whole life was just becoming consumed by it, and you just felt powerless to stop it.
Parking next to the Bronco, you got out of your car and walked down to where Bradley was waiting for you with a bag of takeout. He looked up and smiled when he saw you approach, but when he noticed your expression, he quickly stood up.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” you told him, trying to be mindful of how much energy you expended on work. Bradley reached out and gently grabbed your shoulders, causing you to look at him, still forcing yourself to try to hold it in. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not,” he insisted, which made your lips wobble. “What happened?”
Breaking down and rambling in an octave that you weren’t quite sure was audible to the human ear, you collapsed against your boyfriend. Bradley wrapped you in his arms and gave you a squeeze, supporting you as you just let it all out, like the dam just burst.
“And they just blow up at me for the stupidest little things while I’m busting my ass and working longer hours to get all of the work done and I just can’t do it anymore!” you sobbed, making Bradley’s hold on you tighten. “I’m so tired, Brad. I’m so fucking tired.”
Bradley let out get it all out, simply giving you the support that you needed in that moment. Leading you down to the picnic blanket that he set out for the two of you, Bradley gave you a water bottle and continued to hold you until you stopped shaking. Pressing a kiss to your neck, he rubbed his thumb on your hip.
“I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to go back,” you repeated, burying your face further into Bradley’s chest.
“So don’t,” Bradley stated, causing you to pick your head up.
“It’s not that simple,” you sighed, feeling your headache building.
“Why not?”
“I need to make rent. And pay for food to eat and everything else.”
“I know that, but . . . I’m really worried about you,” Bradley replied softly.
“I know,” you returned, causing Bradley to shake his head.
“I don’t think you do.” Gently nudging your chin up so that you looked at him, Bradley added softly, “Baby, I don’t want to see you like this every day. And I’m honestly more worried about the nights where you go home to your apartment without me.”
“I’ve tried applying for other jobs, but it just hasn’t gone anywhere,” you reminded him.
“I know that, but, Baby, I’m worried about you. You’re not yourself. You’re not living because you’re just consumed by this shit—and it’s not your fault. You need to get out.” He wiped your tears away gently. “How much do you have saved up?”
“Nothing crazy.”
“Well, how many months do you think you could make it without a paycheck?”
“I don’t know. Three?”
“Alright, well, if you quit your job tomorrow, you have three months to find a new job. That’s completely doable.”
“But what if it’s not?”
“You can move in with me,” Bradley stated, causing you to turn back to him. “I’ll support you.”
“I can’t ask you to do that, Brad.”
“Why not?”
“It’s . . .” you trailed off, trying and failing at coming up with a reason.
“It’s?” Bradley pressed, causing you to get emotional again.
“You’d really let me move in with you?”
“I want you to move in with me,” Bradley stated, giving your hips a loving squeeze. “I love you. And I want to see you happy and being your normal self. Life is too goddamn short to let those assholes break you down.”
You struggled to not cry again from the emotion of the moment. Wrapping your arms around Bradley’s shoulders, you pressed yourself against him, nearly knocking the two of you over. He pressed a kiss to your head as you buried your face in his neck.
“You win best boyfriend,” you joked, causing Bradley to scoff.
“Of course, I win best boyfriend. Who was my competition?”
“I don’t know,” you mused, picking your head up.
Cupping his cheeks, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips before resting your head on his shoulder again. You let out a breath, thinking through everything. Bradley gave you some space, occasionally rubbing your thigh or arm, but otherwise remaining quiet.
“I’m going to do it,” you stated, digging your fingers into his shirt. “I’m going to finally do it.”
~~~~~
Two Weeks Later . . .
“Are you sure that there’s nothing that we can offer to keep you here?” your manager asked as you cleaned up your desk.
“Nope,” you replied with fake niceness. “Thank you though.”
Making sure that you had everything, you strutted past your asshole manager and the office bitches who terrorized you for too goddamn long. Well, all of the time that they used to scold you, send you passive aggressive or just outright aggressive emails, and mock you in front of your coworkers would now have to be used to do your job.
And you may or may not have deleted or shredded all of the personal notes and guides for how to do your specific job. But what were they going to do about it? Fire you?
Walking out of the building with your head held high, you practically beamed when you spotted Bradley standing in the parking lot. He leaned back against the Bronco with his broad arms folded against his chest, looking like a dream. You put your bag and box in the trunk before nearly leaping into his arms.
“You did it,” Bradley praised you as you pressed a kiss to his lips.
“I did it,” you agreed, so excited. “I’m free.”
“Let’s go celebrate then,” Bradley offered, pulling open the door to the passenger side for you. “Get in, Roomie.”
Pressing one last victorious kiss to his lips, you slid into the Bronco. Bradley hopped in on the other side and started the car. Pulling away from the building that held a mountain of negative emotions for you for the very last time, you held your hands up and let out a cheer, causing Bradley to crack up.
Grabbing your hand, he threaded your fingers together and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. When the two of you came to a stoplight, you leaned over and pressed an extended kiss to his lips.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
A.N. This was something I wrote right after work one day because I wish I had a Rooster to give me this kind of support.
#bradley bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw x you#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick#top gun: maverick#top gun#tgm#tgm fanfiction#rooster x you#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#rooster x reader#rooster#rooster top gun
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Birdie
John "Bucky" Egan x female!reader
Summary: A rare night out in London has Bucky coming to terms with his feelings for you.
Word Count: 2.9k
Tags: mechanic!reader, songbird!reader, female!reader, she/her pronouns used, drinking culture, cursing, mutual pining, moderate bouts of denial, insecurities, women supporting women because it's what we deserve, let's pretend that The Old Therebefore is an ancient Appalachian folk song in this universe, maybe she's a Mary Sue idgaf, I just wanted to write something happy so LET ME LIVE, WWII era, there's no Y/N but reader has the nickname "Birdie"
A/N: Yeah, I'm obsessed with Masters of the Air. I had to write something for my mans before the creative procrastination literally killed me. Please leave a like, comment, or even a reblog if you're so inclined :)
You can read my OC version of this story on AO3!
Songs Mentioned in This Fic:
Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy by The Andrews Sisters
G.I. Jive by Johnny Mercer
The Ole Therebefore (Accapella) by Rachel Zegler
Disclaimer: I own nothing. This story and any recognizably named characters are based solely on dramatic portrayals of the characters from the series, not the real individuals they represent. All the respect to the actual service people who fought and died in the Second World War. Also, don't copy my writing without explicit permission. That includes you, you AI sonuvabitch.
Your heels clicked on the cobblestone streets, turning into the pub you’d heard so much about. You were out celebrating a very rare weekend off. The Brass had somehow allowed you and twenty other mechanics from base two days leave, so you took advantage of the opportunity and headed straight to London.
Your two best girlfriends from base were with you. Teresa was one of the toughest nurses you’d ever come across. She could give you a wide grin, crinkles around her hazel eyes, and reset a broken bone without breaking a sweat. It helps that she was already working towards becoming a nurse back in New Mexico, the war just sped along that process. You had bonded over your love of books, giving each other recommendations almost weekly.
You’d met Irene on the boat to England. She puked on your shoes almost thirty minutes exactly after leaving the port in New York. You gave a small grin, offering her a handkerchief and a piece of ginger candy and the rest was history. Finding out that she was a fellow mechanic was the icing on the cake. Coming in at a whopping five foot two, the spritely blonde could easily be found in a crowd with her loud Appalachian accent.
It seemed almost like fate for the three of you to have found each other. Being some of the few women on base naturally made you close, but you were closer with Irene and Teresa than any of the others. That’s not to say that you weren’t friends with any of the men, because you were. Friendly.
All three of you were dressed to the nines, in contradiction to your everyday work wear. You all got ready together in your hotel room, giggling while you applied makeup here, spritzed some perfume there. You all felt confident and were ready to have a good time. You spotted some familiar faces and made your way over towards them, your friends linked arm-in-arm with you. Lemmons was the first to greet you.
Of the fifty men on the ground crew, Sgt. Ken Lemmons was the most welcoming of them all. From the get-go, he didn’t care if you were a man or woman. He just wanted to know that you were capable. You were sure he had to go through some hazing because of his age, which probably changed his perspective on gatekeeping the job. This made earning and maintaining respect a lot easier for the women on your crew. We all came over with the same goal, it was better for all if we just helped each other out.
“Hey Birdie! Nice to see you out and about.”
Ah, the famed nickname. You tend to hum and sing under your breath when elbow-deep in a project. It helps you pass the time and clear your mind. Of course, the rest of the ground crew quickly caught on to this habit of yours, which quickly earned you the nickname “Birdie”. You, of course, never sing solo in public, so this confuses anyone who’s not around you while you’re working. But the name stuck, so here you are. Birdie.
Chairs are quickly cleared for you and your friends, which you all graciously take. You go up to buy some drinks, knowing what your friends like, and quickly return with your drinks of choice. Conversation flows, laughs are shared, and a few drinking games are played over the next hours. Teresa soon speaks up on a topic you’d been hoping to avoid.
“Do you think he’ll be here tonight?”
You shrug and look into your drink, “Dunno. Why does it matter?”
Irene, the ever supportive best friend that she is, backs up Teresa. “What do you mean ‘why’? This is your chance to finally make a move!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You quickly deny, taking another sip.
An unladylike snort leaves Irene, “My ass! You and Major Egan have been making googly eyes at each other when you think the other’s not looking for months. I’m saying it’s time for you to perk your tits up, buck on over and ride that—!” You slam your drink on the table, pressing your hand over Irene’s mouth, heat rising to your cheeks in embarrassment.
“Are you insane?” You whisper harshly, looking around to make sure no one overheard you. You seem to be in the clear, which makes you calm down a bit. Irene pushes off your hand, takes a swig of her drink, and consults the person who started this whole conversation.
“Am I wrong?” You look to Teresa, who cringes slightly in agreement.
You gape at the pair of them. Normally, you were the median between the two girls who had vastly differing opinions. But this is what made them come to a consensus? Unbelievable.
“Look, I’m not saying that I don’t want to.” You start, which makes your friends nod encouragingly at you. “It’s just that… Is he really as interested as you think he is?”
They both groan and slump against each other, like they’d just run a marathon. Teresa sits up, scooching your chair in closer so that the three of you were in a private triangle, cut off from the rest of the group.
“Let’s look at the facts here, okay?” Teresa starts to tick off a finger with each point she and Irene make. But you seem to always have a rebuttal at the ready.
“He brings you coffee every morning.”
“I thought he does that for everyone.”
“He constantly fixes his hair when you’re around.”
“He takes care of his appearance!”
“He walks you to the mess hall every day for dinner.”
“We just happen to be going the same way. And we happen to have the same dinner schedule.”
“He read The Hobbit when you said how much you loved it.”
“He’s an adventurous guy, it’s an adventurous book, what’s not to like about it?”
“You two literally will walk and talk outside alone for hours.”
“A man can’t have a stimulating conversation with a woman?”
“He laughs at all your dumb jokes.”
“Hey! They’re not all dumb. Like, the one with the goose and the—”
“Point proven. Anyways! He has your picture in the inside pocket of his jacket.”
That one stops you in your tracks. You brain tries to justify this meaning but comes up blank.
“He…” You struggle with an excuse. “He…” Your best friends give victorious smirks in your direction.
“He… likes the extra padding in his jacket?” You stutter over what is possibly the most pathetic, sorry excuse you could have ever come up with.
“When are you gonna admit to yourself that he likes you? Like, actually truly likes you?”
You gave a sad sigh, letting the insecurity you were feeling deep down come to the surface. “I just… He’s just so…” You had stomped down your feelings for so long that it was becoming hard to articulate what exactly you’re feeling.
“He just seems so unreal. Like, of everyone he could have chosen, why me? I mean, I know I’m great. But you’ve seen the other girls on base. They’re all so beautiful, smart, classy… and none of them are covered in engine oil ninety percent of the time.” You looked down at your hands, specks of grease and oil peeking out from beneath your nail beds. It seems like it would never completely wash out, no matter how hard you scrubbed. You hadn’t even painted your nails for this weekend, knowing it would be money wasted come Monday morning when you’re back on the clock.
Teresa and Irene share a look that you don’t see, then come forward and grab each of your hands.
“The words you just used to describe those girls. All of that is you, Birdie. That and more. You being a mechanic doesn’t make you any less of a woman, and to hell with anyone else who thinks otherwise.” You nodded in agreement, Irene’s words of encouragement slowly washing away your anxieties.
Teresa spoke up next, “You deserve someone who will rearrange the stars and the whole night sky for you. And I’m more than willing to bet that Major Egan is up for the job.”
“Besides, none of that 'unreal' stuff. At the end of the day, John Egan is nothing more than a man. If he can’t look past his nose and his d—" You gave a squeak to cover up the vulgar word Irene was about to blurt in public. She rolled her eyes fondly and continued.
“If he can’t see what you’re worth and make the effort to treat you a hundred times better than that? That’s on him. Not you. You know what you deserve, and you deserve everything you want. Absolutely everything.”
You sniffed, happy tears coming to your eyes. You brought your best friends in for a hug, thanking them profusely.
“Don’t sweat it,” Teresa grins into your shoulder “every girl needs to be pulled out of her well sometime.”
You pull back from the hug, grabbing your glass and tipping your head back, finishing the rest of your drink. “Even if he’s not gonna be here, let’s have a ball!” Your girlfriends cheer as the three of you go to the bar for refills.
One drink turns into two, which turns into a few more, and suddenly you’re buzzed. Your group are having a rambunctious time, Irene dancing by the local piano player. Once Irene looks over to you, she stops and whispers in the player’s ear. He nods, then starts a new tune. Irene starts up her voice, walking over to you and Teresa, encouraging you to join her.
The alcohol has loosened you up enough that you don’t feel the nausea you usually associate with being perceived, so you join in the harmonies you and your friends have practiced in your bunks at night.
He was a famous trumpet man from out Chicago way
He had a boogie style that no one else could play
He was the top man at his craft
But then his number came up and he was gone with the draft
Soon the whole pub was jumping and dancing along to the tune as you brought a new vibe to the pub. It was like a spark that started an entirely new night and everyone was eager to go on forever.
One song turns into an entire set, which ends with a full rendition of G.I. Jive, which had everyone singing along. It was a magical moment; made you feel like you were a part of something important.
Irene sidles up to you, giving you a hug. She says in your ear,
“I think it’s time to slow it down a bit. How about you sing that song I taught you.”
She means an old Appalachian folk song that’s been in her family for generations. You had heard her sing it one night and immediately loved the dark, but strong nature of the lyrics. It was an honor to learn it from her.
“I don’t know, it’s your family’s song and…”
“And I can’t think of anyone better to sing it to these soldiers.” You gave each other a look, her slight eyebrow raise gave you the courage to nod in acceptance. She smiled, hugging you again, her voice yelled out to the crowd.
“Birdie’s gonna sing solo!”
The announcement is met with raucous applause, Irene and Teresa shoving you towards a dodgy looking table. Crank offers a hand up, which you take gratefully. As you find your bearings on the tabletop, you quickly spin around and find all eyes on you.
The crackling energy in the air seemed to simmer, the fast-beating hearts of the pubgoers recognizing a moment to acknowledge you. Nausea starts to make an appearance, but a deep breath quells the sensation within you for the time being.
You take another deep breath. Inhale, exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
You close your eyes, open your mouth, and sing.
Meanwhile….
Majors Gale Cleven and John Egan walk down the familiar street, one eager to catch up with his fellow countrymen’s alcohol intake, the other just happy to spend time with his friends. They were arriving later to the festivities due to being caught up in filling out reports. By far the worst part of having a higher rank was the paperwork.
“It’s pretty quiet.” Buck acknowledges. “They’re usually rowdier by this point.”
Bucky sniffs, shrugging off the concern. “Ah, it’s probably nothing.”
As the two men approach the pub, they find that a crowd has formed. Soldiers, civilians, RAF, USAAF, old, young— people had obviously stopped to watch whatever was going on. It was dead silent, save for a voice singing. Was there a radio show on or something?
A familiar face peeks out at them from the crowd, DeMarco quickly waving them over.
Bucky is quick to question, “Hey, what’s going on?” but is immediately shushed by nearby crowd members. Buck cringes in apology, despite not being the one to disturb the peace. His best friend, ever unshaken by the opinion of strangers, carries on.
DeMarco leans in, whispering, “Your girl’s taking us all to church.”
“My girl..?” Bucky’s nose scrunches in confusion. He makes space through the crowd and quickly makes sense of DeMarco’s words. It was you.
I’ll catch you up
When I’ve emptied my cup
When I’ve worn out my friends
When I’ve burned out both ends
Standing on a tabletop, watchful eyes sat all around you like baby ducks flocking to their mama. You were captivating everyone with each note and word that flows from your mouth. Damn, you've got a set of pipes— a voice that belongs on the radio, in concert halls, on Hollywood records. He had no idea.
His little Birdie.
“Wow.” Buck mutters in awe from behind him, and Bucky couldn’t be more in agreement.
When I’m pure like a dove
When I’ve learned how to love
He hadn’t noticed before, but her eyes were closed. Like she needed to concentrate on each and every breath she took, every single movement her body made, before letting them out in an angelic melody.
As if by divine intervention, her eyes pop open and lock on his as she belts “how to love”
It could’ve been an eternity, for all he knows, the amount of time that they spent locked in each other’s gaze. The world pauses around them, everything frozen. Her eyes were already the kind to knock a man clean off his feet with a single gaze, but he thinks- for a brief moment- that his heart completely stops beating.
John Clarence Egan would swear every day from then on, until his dying breath, that the course of his life was altered in that very moment. He knew how it would continue from then on, and how it would end. How he wanted it to end.
Then the world starts back up and carries on.
Right here in the old therebefore
When nothing is left anymore
Her final hums are joined by a short blonde woman who stands nearby, another face he recognizes from base.
The applause that picks up after the end of the song is near deafening. The star of the hour gives a shy smile, a quick curtsy and is given a hand to step down from the table.
Everyone soon starts mingling, the normal chatter of the bar returning. But Bucky is stuck in his spot, dumbfounded. In all the conversations you’d had together, somehow this never came up. He should’ve put two and two together, as he recalls overhearing your hums one morning as he made his daily coffee delivery to you. But you had been caught off guard, so much so that you tripped off the ladder you stood on and fell. Luckily, his quick reflexes kicked in to catch you before any serious injuries occurred.
Remembering the sensation of his hands on your waist and thighs, face just inches from yours, sent his brain into a tailspin. That’s not even considering just how damn cute you were when, after a beat, you turned away from him and playfully mourned the cups of coffee that were splattered all over the hardstand.
“John. John?” A hand waving in front of his face knocks him out of his reverie. He blinks once, twice. Then looks to his best friend.
His voice comes out uncharacteristically weak in response, to which he then clears his throat and corrects. “Yes—yeah?” He pops the collar of his sheepskin jacket to try and hide the rampant red of his ears that signals the heat radiating from them.
Buck just shakes his head and gives him a knowing smile. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, Egan. Never thought I’d see the day.”
“See what day?” Bucky starts to consciously return to his body, leaning on the bar.
“The day when a girl finally knocks you on your ass. I knew you had a thing for her, but that?” He points to his face and motions to indicate where they had just been standing. “That’s something else. That’s something real.”
Bucky gives another shrug in response, to which Buck throws back an unconvinced frown. He turns his head to gaze over the pub patrons and is distracted by you once again. Any denial he was about to spout immediately dies in his mouth when you lock eyes with him again and give him a dazzling smile. The world starts to fade away again.
His heart pumps faster in his chest at the sight. Damnit. He sighs, telling his best friend the truth he’s been privately wrestling with for a while now, all the while keeping his eyes locked on yours.
“I know, Buck. I know.”
Bucky smiles back at you and is elated when your face lights up. You give him a wave.
“She kinda snuck up on me.”
#masters of the air#mota#john egan x reader#john egan x oc#john bucky egan#john bucky egan x reader#bucky egan x reader#bucky x reader#bucky x female reader#john egan x female reader#bucky fanfic#bucky egan fanfiction#mota spoilers#ken lemmons#gale cleven#buck and bucky#buck x bucky#john egan#bucky egan#crank cruikshank#charles cruikshank#curt biddick#buck cleven#gale buck cleven#harry crosby#bubbles payne#hbo war#hbo war fanfic#hbo war fandom#hbo war oc
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prompt #6
toxic armin! nd reader are arguing nd when reader talks her shit armin gets turned on nd pulls his dick out nd tells her to “suck on it” making her forget all the shit he did(once again)
and I was JUST thinking about him omg 😫😫 y’all have no idea how much I love toxic!armin. He does sum to meee.
cw: oral, spit play, fingers in the mouth, reader threatening armin bc it’s all he deserves
frustrated. the one word that came to mind when trying to express your emotions right now. You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t articulate your words properly, let alone get your point across without becoming completely irate. That’s what happened when you dealt with the likes of armin artlert. A known playboy with a reputation that preceded him. But with all the information you heard from the streets about him dogging all his women, being a cheater and a dumbass, you decided to give him a chance. Under the premise that his ass was gone the second he acted the fool. Unfortunately, things weren’t so simple with him! You could never truly be free of him..whether physically from the fact that no man fucked you quite like he did. Or mentally because he’d blow your phone up and play mind games until you let him back in for a thousandth chance.
“Please…please give me one good reason why I shouldn’t bust you in your shit, Armin. Please give me one.”
“I already told you, angel. I don’t even know that girl…she probably has me confused with somebody else..”
another Saturday night wasted down the drain..where you could put partying with your girls, finding a man worth of a damn, it was being spent pacing the floor of your two bedroom apartment you shared together. Arguing and fussing about a potential side piece as he sat on the edge of the bed. Sprawled out shirtless with nothing but black sweats on. Shaggy blonde hair going everywhere and tattoos on his chest and forearm still vibrant from the lotion he applied after he showered. Despite how fine your man was, you were solely focused on ripping him apart. Pissed off that he had yet again embarrassed you. “So that bitch asked you to suck your dick and she got you confused with somebody else? Nah nigga, the only thing you and her both got..is me fucked up.”
ramping and raving like a mad woman as you poked his forehead with your long acrylics. Folded arms and puffed out jaws like a petulant child and all he could do was stare in adoration for how cute you were. He didn’t want to admit it but the sight of you putting him in his place really got Armin stirred up. Hearing you cuss him for everything he was worth..clapping your hands..he loved seeing you in this aggressive state. Even if it wasn’t healthy. “Playing in my motherfuckin’ face…I’m not one of these other bitches, Armin.” He heard you, loud and crystal clear but he couldn’t be vexed to care. He never did. He never gave a damn about his actions affected you or anyone else. But he’d pretend, so as long as he could get his own gratification..
“I know, baby..they’re nothing like you. That’s why I told you, I don’t even know her ass. You know how many of them are jealous of you? Seriously, who wouldn’t be? Look at you..”
his half assed attempt of mulling over the situation was bombing, until he resorted to desperate measures that is..leaning back, he’d open his legs a bit more and suck his teeth, flashing you a shit eating smirk. One that would undeniably get him his way! Extending an arm out, he’d grasp for your hand and pull you towards him, intertwining those fingers together and placing kisses on the knuckles.
“..shit, I mean…if I’m being honest, you got me thinking about you right now, baby. They can’t do any of the things you can. Can’t love me the way you can, not as beautiful as you are…and damn sure can’t fuck on me the way you do.”
you knew he was only trying to soften you up. Stop you from being angry and as always, that smooth charm and slick demeanor done its job. As he had your eyes adverted to his face, tugging you down gently to your knees for a kiss, his other hand was working to free his erection from its confines. Stiff and seeping with precum, he wanted nothing more than shove it between those pretty, gloss stained lips. But first, he’d shove two fingers between them, letting you suck them and coo to you as he always done. Swiping a finger across your cheek, he knew you were exactly where he wanted you. “Go ahead, baby..suck on it.”
prompting as he guided your head down into his lap. In a matter of seconds, he had those fingers wrapped around his shaft and that tip stuck in your mouth, sloppily sucking on it as you always did. Drumming up strings of saliva in the process and making you drool all over him.
“There you go…good girl. Only you can make me feel like this. Do what these bitches can’t.”
#cherry’s asks 🍒#prompt games#fic prompt#oh these are too fun#aot x black reader#armin x black reader#black fem reader#armin headcanons#snk armin#armin smut#armin imagine#toxic armin#black reader smut#armin arlert#armin artlert#armin snk#aot armin#armin arlert x black reader#arminarlert#armin x y/n#aot headcanons#aot smut#aot imagines#black reader#armin aot#attack on titan armin#cw smut#cw spit#cw sex mention#suggestive cw
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Ello can I request a Norton Fools good x fem reader where she came across the blown up mines and sees Norton (in his hunter form) she’s scared at first but starts to recognise him and slowly starts to approach him reaching her hand up to cub his cheeks ( bro this man needs all the love! )
HOO BOY i agree tho... his release made me regain my interest in norton🫡🫡
[not to be a scum but i'm still open for sanrio emma comms btw😭😭]
fool's gold: imagine...⛏️
cut for length!
paying the bills has become a hellish cycle. break your back to pay off the expenses, relax for the following twenty-ish days, and be sent into frenzy again, not knowing if you're going to have a roof over your head tomorrow or not.
you found yourself hopelessly skimming through newspaper, looking for any job offer possible that would easen up the burden on your wallet. The paper was plastered with offers from bars, post offices and restaurants, but those were a always gamble. will you get your wage or not? and if you will, when? too much effort for something so high-risk.
at last, a small offer in the corner of the page caught your attention. pressed in miniscule letters, it said: MINE RESEARCH. EMPLOYEES URGENTLY NEEDED. EQUIPMENT PROVIDED. underneath the text, an attractive number: $15,000 payed off immediately after the job is done.
not only could this solve the rent for the following 3 months, you'd also have some money left for yourself! you rang the number the second you got home and successfully scored the job, due to the urgency of the situation.
it took you a day or two to start thinking about the job. what do you exactly need to know for mine research? probably at least some physical strength and stamina, you thought. surely it can't be too complex.
you arrived at the mine right on time, the sun slowly slipping back into the horizon to let the moon take center stage. to your dismay, you realized no one else applied for the job. maybe this wasn't a good idea after all? crawling through the narrow, rocky terrain all alone doesn't sound like the ideal scenario. no living being in sight, and 20 minutes have already went by.
still, that money is way too good to pass up. you picked up one of the yellow helmets piled up at the entrance, prayed to whatever god out there that your flashlight has enough power to last the following 2 hours and mindlessly rushed into the collapsing mine.
for the following 10 minutes, your sight unfocused while your mind took the lead, in front of and all around you just rocks and grime, shadows dispelled by the flashlight held by your hip like a lance. only after a good 5 minutes of running did you realize that you, in fact, have no idea what you're supposed to do. what qualifies as mine research? mining, inspecting the ores, measuring the surface?
all sweaty and breathless, the tunnel led you to a large room inside of the mine, the roof extending towards what seemed like a pitch black abyss. carts messily thrown around, bumpy and unpolished geodes laying all over the place, when was the last time a living being stepped foot into this mine? it made sense that such a large sum of money was needed to attract volunteers.
you carefully moved through the rubble, trying to avoid stepping onto pickaxes and shrapnel splayed all over the ground. since you forgot about the gloves your bare hand now held onto the unpromising terrain, the other firmly squeezing the only source of light in this limbo.
the surface grazing your hand now seems like it became... smoother? no longer does it cut and pierce your palms. it's bumpy, but at least you're not risking an infection anymore.
moving inch by inch in fear of falling, the stone below changes its form. you don't even pay attention to the fact that you're now grabbing onto cloth and that, below your palm, a steady pulse is faintly beating.
it's already too late when you realize that you're not alone, and the stone below you starts to take shape and morph until it extends towards the ceiling, now towering over you, slouched like a ragdoll.
complementing the cold shades of grey, a face emerges from the shadows. pale, with defined cheekbones, although malnourished. only his bust passes as human, as below his collarbones there's nothing but a mosaic of pebbles and boulders forming his torso, arms and legs. it - or he, perhaps - is breathing with struggle, coughs interrupting his wheezes here and there.
you feel a sense of dread overcoming you. you freeze on the spot, but he doesn't budge, either. lifeless except for the fact he's breathing and his heart ticks like a machine.
you draw back a step, and he lunges forward, seemingly still not used to this monstrous body of his. he could harm me with ease if he wanted to, a thought suddenly manifests in your mind, and with newfound bravery you inspect the cryptid like a sculpture. your hand grazes over his bumpy and unfinished hands, tugs at the remains of his clothes around his chest. he groans, in annoyance, you assume, but doesn't resist. you climb up a cart to reach his face, your fingers pinch his stubborn hairstrands, inspect the cavity in which his other eye once laid. in a moment of either stupidity or courage you roughly pinch his cheeks - they're cold to the touch, but it's funny how naturally does his intimidating face mush like a little boy's. kind of cute. after a minute of cooing to yourself two of his rocky fingers gently pinch your wrists and put them back to your sides, but his one foggy eye doesn't divert its gaze from yours.
perhaps the flashlight can last an hour more.. you've just began getting to know him, and the mystery of the mine and his origin still lay cold for you to discover.
#identity v#idv#idv headcanons#idv imagines#identity v headcanons#idv fanfic#idv scenarios#identity v x reader#idv x reader#identity v x you#idv prospector#prospector idv#prospector#identity v prospector#norton campbell#idv norton campbell#idv norton#norton idv#idv fools gold#fools gold#identity v fool's gold#fool's gold#idv fool's gold#fool's gold idv#identity v fools gold
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i got two things; would u ever add more characters to the helluva boss list??
second thing was my request lol :3
can i get a blitzø x gn!sinner!reader headcanons where reader is so down on their luck that they are applying to randoms jobs and the only one that got back to them was I.M.P lol and the slow progression of their relationship to becoming lovers :D
Pure Luck Or Dumb Luck?
Blitzø x GN!Reader
TW: FLUFF- A mention of a little nsfw but nothing explicit
A/n: Blitz! Our favorite Boss! And to answer your question, yes I will! I’m just writing out for the gang first so I can get used to writing for the characters before I move onto other characters!
Let me set the scene:
You recently had been fired from your last job for punching a customer who had been harassing you lately. It was well deserved but it had landed you in the unemployment category of working. So you applied to every single work ad you could get your hands on. They all rejected you except for one that had been the infamous, I.M.P! Maybe not so infamous..but they do amazing jobs, you’ve heard and you got an interview to go to THE NEXT DAY?!?!?
-🐴 Well fast forward- you do land the interview but depending if you know how to kill or shoot a gun depends if you need training. By training I mean going out in the human world and killing to get you over your nerves. Blitz is strict but fair with this. If you want to be out on the field, you have to kill. If not he can let you be the receptionist with Loona or the janitor! They need one badly- dried blood is hard to get out of the wooden floors and carpets.
-🐴Now! If you do need training, he’s gonna send Millie and Moxxie with you, the sweetest people to help and can validate your feelings on taking a life. Moxxie understands the hesitation.
-🐴 Blitz isn’t stupid (he can be but shh), he knows a good killer when he sees one (and a hottie). Now he won’t hold your hand during missions especially if you can handle yourself but if you still got some jitters in you about killing? He’ll give you an easy target to kill.
-🐴After a few months into the job? He starts to become friendlier with you, like instead of sending you out to get coffee? He asks if you want coffee and then asks if you can go get it cause he’s out of money. He’ll pay you back! (I mean at least he’s asking instead of yelling at you to go get it)
-🐴I swear he does become nicer over time but it takes so long cause he has trust issues.
-🐴 But once you do become his friend or best friend as he puts it, oh boy he’s clinging to you and not letting go. You get so many privileges that no one else does and it's a blessing but a curse. Cause you get to know what he’s thinking all the time and then he tells you all of his horses names.
-🐴You start catching feelings for him and realize it at midnight when your alone in your bed. Your feelings go from “oh fuck-” to “I’d bang him” IN SECONDS- The whiplash is real.
-🐴Blitzo? Falls harder and he only realizes it when you bring him to a horse show and he’s watching you instead of the horses. But what really solidifies it for him? Is when you're able to talk your way into allowing Blitzo to ride and take pictures with the horses.
-🐴 He won’t shut up about you when your not in the office, like you’d leave to go pick up lunch for everyone and as soon as you walk out the door. “Have you noticed how hot they are?” “Sir-”
-🐴Millie ships it so fucking hard. But because he doesn’t want to admit it and you probably think he won’t reciprocate your feelings, it’s a whole dance for a LONG time. Moxxie is about to rip his fucking hair out- while initially he didn’t care for it much- he’s as much as invested as his wife is. JUST FUCKING KISS PLEASE-
-🐴 Loona is in on it too but she has a betting pool going with Millie. She’s either gonna be fifty bucks richer or out of fifty bucks.
-🐴Either way it will be a long ass time before you end up pulling him into a kiss one night. Maybe you both were at your place watching a movie or you were out on the town with him and he’s walking you back to your apartment.
-🐴 It ends up with you waking up in the morning curled up in your bed with your head on his bare chest. You abruptly wake him up by shaking him awake and staring at him cause you just slept with your best friend who is also your boss??
-🐴 this ends up with a huge talk and you both realize your feelings are mutual and POOF you’re dating.
-🐴This silly little Imp loves kisses and going on fun but not expensive dates! That doesn’t mean he won’t spoil the shit out of you cause he will! But he likes it when you are both relaxed and having fun.
-🐴Now he tries to keep your relationship out of work (despite working together) but he swoons or cheers you on if you get a kill or you are just being protective. His tail curls into a little heart.
-🐴 Wear his clothes if you can- especially his leather jacket it makes him puff his chest out in pride. He will wear your clothes, especially your shirts when he goes to bed or if you have a break!
-🐴Oh boy! He’s a jealous little imp! Not because he doesn’t trust you, it's because he doesn't think highly of himself and will often try to push you away. Don’t let that scare you, just hug him close.
#helluva boss x reader#helluva boss#helluva blitzo#blitzo#blitzø#helluva boss blitz#blitz x reader#blitzo x reader
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