#but i do think she’d definitely do it to prove she could
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don't call me daddy V
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x little!f!reader
Word count: 4,660
Summary : In a world where littles are openly themselves, they volunteer to help and be helped by willing caregivers. In spite of himself, Bucky finds himself stuck with one and to keep the nagging away, he has to learn how to be around her with everything that that entails.
Warnings: crying, age regression, fluff, a little angst
A/N: i would like to give credits for this part and its idea to🦊nonnie because without her ask there might've not been a fifth part to this story. Having said that, i'm thinking this should be the last part of the story because i am out of scenario your girl is empty. but anyway, please enjoy this one and have a tight hug xx💜💜
~
When they arrived back at her house, she was asleep in the passenger's seat.
Bucky didn’t want to wake her up. He knew she barely got any sleep last night because of the mean cough she was suffering from and so he carefully carried her inside without a word.
His heart kept speeding up every time he would remember what she called him after taking her shot as he slipped her feet out of her shoes and socks and tucked her in her bed.
He frankly had no idea what he would do if she was to wake up little and if he was ready to be a good daddy to her. What if he messed up again? He seemed to be a pro at that.
Luckily, when she woke up later that night, she was her big self again and didn’t seem to have any recollection of calling Bucky daddy, or if she did, she didn’t mention it.
Bucky gave her her cough syrup and the rest of the meds, helping her go back to sleep as he presumed his place on the floor by her bed.
In a way he couldn’t explain, even her coughs were more comfort than the silence at his house, and definitely more comfort than his nightmares.
It was 12 days of little sleep, a lot of crying, meds, movies and sleepovers until she was fully cured again, and even though Bucky hated that she was sick, those seemed to have been some of the best days he’s ever gotten to live since he’s come back to himself.
He got to laugh with someone, care for someone, comfort someone and enjoy the company of someone. And not just anyone; it was her.
But something was missing still.
Bucky wanted her to call him daddy. More than anything and from the bottom of his heart, he wanted to deserve that name, that role.
What Bucky had noticed in the days he’d stayed at her place was that she had no family pictures at all.
She had framed pictures of friends, of herself, of Corgi, but none of family members.
It didn’t come as a surprise because she’d mentioned it to him before, and he just knew that if he wanted to be her caregiver, her daddy, Bucky had to prove to her that he was nothing like those who’d hurt her. He had to prove himself worthy of taking care of her; set himself apart from them.
And to do that, he had to know more.
“I see no family pictures anywhere,” Bucky spoke as he helped her plant the new tulips she had in place.
“Yeah, we’re not close.” She shrugged, hand stuttering just the tiniest bit in their movements.
“Can I ask why?”
She sighed, “why?”
“I’m trying to learn from the mistakes of others.”
She laughed, “really?”
“Really.”
Oh, this wasn’t a joke?
“You know you don’t have to do that anymore, right?” She couldn’t understand why he would want to try again when the report was handed and he was let off the hook.
“I want to. I really want to.” Bucky wished his gloved hands weren’t muddy as they were so he could touch her face.
He found himself craving physical contact around her more often than not.
“You finally believe in the power of the program?” She teased, keeping her focus on the flowers she was rooting.
“No, I couldn’t care less about the institution and its programs.”
“Not even Mrs. Morrison?” She joked again.
“I’m serious, doll.”
“Why then?” She dropped the bulbs, deciding to face Bucky.
“I want it because it’s you I’ll be daddy to.”
“They never loved me for who I was.” She answered his previous question and Bucky felt a pang at his chest.
He had made her feel the same way.
He remained silent, not wanting to interrupt her in fear that she might stop.
“I always had to be a certain way, say certain things, act a certain way. Do what we say and then we’ll see if we can love you.”
Bucky might’ve been speechless, but his eyes spoke a million words, begging hers for forgiveness for his ignorant mistakes.
“That’s why it hurt so much when you showed me you didn’t accept the little version of me.”
“I’m so sorry-”
She shook her head, stopping him.
“I’ve been rejected for too long, Bucky, too many times. It took me a good while to finally believe that I was worth loving despite my quirks, ugly parts and possible mistakes. Took too long to teach myself that it didn’t matter if I cried all the time, was too clingy or too talkative; I was still lovable.” She pointed to her chest as she finished her words.
Bucky took his gloves off, pulling her in for a hug, unable to stop himself anymore. He had no words, only anger and remorse raging inside his chest.
“It takes you a while to unlearn stuff you’ve been taught your whole life by the people who were supposed to love you the most.” She whispered into his shirt.
“Doll, I’m so sorry,” Bucky whispered back.
“It’s okay.” She looked up at him, “I appreciate you, Bucky, I really do, but I don’t think I’m ready to lose everything I’ve built inside me if you decide in the middle of it that you weren’t fully ready to take on such a responsibility. I forgive you. I promise. But I don’t trust you enough to give up full control of myself and my life to you again. I’m sorry.” She pulled away from the hug, giving Bucky the option to walk away.
“Don’t be. I understand.” He remained in place.
“Are you gonna disappear now?” She wondered with a sad smile.
“No, you’re not getting rid of me so easily.” Bucky returned the smile, putting his gloves back on.
She smiled gratefully, “I don’t wanna lose you either. You’re such a great friend. And I owe you forever for taking care of me those past few days.”
“What if I prove myself to you though?” Bucky asked, dipping a tulip bulb in the soil.
“What?” She tilted her head in confusion.
“What if I show you how serious I am about this and prove myself worthy of you?”
“Bucky, you don’t have to do that. I know you have a life, responsibilities-”
“I want to do it. There’s nothing more important to me right now than this. And you.”
“If you’re doing this just because you can’t accept that you failed the program-”
“I swear on my ma’s soul, I want to do this. Because of you, doll. For you and with you.”
The words died on her tongue as she watched his sincere eyes implore hers.
“Would you give me a chance to prove myself to you? Please?”
“Okay, Bucky.” She swallowed, “one chance.”
“That’s all I need.” Bucky smiled.
She was not sick anymore and he didn’t have a reason to stick around. He also didn’t want to push her on the matter of regressing, so, respectful of her boundaries, he left.
~
After their conversation in the garden, Bucky had to go home.
His heart was heavy when he entered his empty apartment to nothing and no one. Being alone in here wasn’t something he enjoyed anymore.
It has been 2 days of intense research that Bucky has conducted on age regression and partners in little space when she texted him that night.
“Mr. Barnes, can you please come over?”
He wasn’t particularly happy about the fact that he was Mr. Barnes again, but he certainly was happy that she thought to text him when little. This was an improvement and it counted to Bucky.
“Will be right there, doll.” He texted back, running to his motorcycle.
~
Bucky took in a deep breath before knocking at her door, ready to prove himself a suitable daddy.
She opened with teary eyes, making Bucky’s heart sink.
“What’s wrong, doll?” Bucky asked as he stepped inside.
“I can’t open the pickle jar and now my hands hurt,” she cried, showing him the insides of her palms and how red they were from trying so hard to twist the cap on the glass jar.
She was indeed a little worried that Bucky might find this stupid, that he might yell at her or get upset because she was crying over something minimal in his eyes.
But that wasn’t the case at all. The man was just thankful that she was alright.
“Oh, doll,” Bucky sighed in relief, glad that she wasn’t actually hurt.
Until he remembered that this was a big deal to her. Her hands hurt and she was frustrated because the cap wouldn’t budge.
Moments like these definitely required a daddy.
“I thought Mr. Barnes could help,” she sniffled, her hand wiping under her nose, “metal arm.” She touched his gloved hand.
Bucky chuckled, taking the pickle jar out of her hand, “what if I can do it without the metal arm? What would you give me in return?”
“The biggest pickle?” She offered, wiping her tears away from her eyes, her crying stopping at once.
Bucky laughed at her innocence, “no, I want something else, doll.”
She tilted her head expectantly.
What could Mr. Barnes possibly want? Did he want the whole jar? Would he at least leave her one pickle? She was craving pickles-
“I want you to start calling me Bucky again. No more Mr. Barnes. Can you do that for me, doll?”
Oh, that was something she could do.
“Only if you can open the jar with your not metal hand,” she challenged, her little mind amazed by the idea because look at her hand! It had red marks all over when she tried opening that jar.
“You got it,” Bucky said, easily twisting the cap on the jar open, making her mouth open with it.
“Woah,” she whispered as Bucky handed her the jar with a laugh.
“You’re welcome, doll.” He smiled, watching her chew on a crunchy pickle.
“Thank you, Bucky.” She smiled back, offering him a big pickle.
Bucky’s nerves tingled, knowing he was one step closer to her and his desired title.
~
Moving forward, Bucky learned to distinguish between her big self and little self through texts.
Her little self would always talk about him and herself in third person.
Plus, her big self always needed help with bigger things like needing Bucky to fix her sink or look at her car, knowing he might burn down the city if she went back to asking Adam for help with those things.
Her little self, on the other hand, would need help with the lighter things, the sweeter things. She would call asking for help with Corgi, something too high on a shelf or even just wanting Bucky’s company.
Tonight was one of those nights.
It was thundering more than usual and Bucky had wanted to go and be with her, but he didn’t want to invade her privacy.
But then she called and her scared voice saying his name had Bucky moving even before she uttered the words.
He was proud that she now knew that he was just only one call away; that he would come running whenever she needed. She could finally count on him to be there for her and he couldn’t be more contented.
He knew that consistency was important in relationships, especially one where she was little.
“Hey, doll, it’s okay. It’s just a little thunder,” Bucky cooed, rubbing her back as she let him inside.
“I’m not scared anymore now that Bucky is here.” She smiled, her breathing visibly slowing down.
“Well, I’m staying the night so you have nothing to worry about,” he chuckled, following her to the bedroom.
“Bucky covered his motorcycle?” she asked, worried his vehicle would get ruined.
“Leave that for now, we’ll hose it down together tomorrow when it’s sunny.”
“Corgi loves the hose,” she spoke out the first thought that came to her mind and Bucky loved it, laughing heartily at her comment.
The dog’s ears perked at the sound of his name, jumping at Bucky’s feet as soon as he entered the bedroom, waiting for his share of pets.
He bent down to give the dog some love when he heard her sigh.
“Corgi loves Bucky too.” She smiled shyly, internally wishing her name was Corgi.
“Bucky loves Corgi right back,” Bucky whispered, leaning in to kiss her forehead.
She only smiled bigger, running to her bed and getting under the covers.
When Bucky got down to sleep on the floor that night, however, she slipped off her bed and right next to him.
“Doll, the floor is too cold for you. Sleep on your bed, come on.” Bucky sat up, wanting to help her up on the bed again but she wouldn’t move.
“Wanna be next to Bucky,” she said with a pout.
“But-”
“I know Bucky can’t sleep on beds. It’s okay. Doll will sleep here,” she told him, squeezing Wolfie in her arms.
Bucky’s heart fluttered and it made his mind light up with an idea only a true daddy would have.
“Do you wanna build a fort?” He suggested and her face instantly beamed with a smile as she nodded.
Of course she did!
That night as Bucky gathered all of her soft blankets to make her a floor mattress inside a fort full of fluffy pillows, he knew he was smitten.
This girl had him head over heels for her and there was nothing in the world that he wouldn’t do just to see her smile.
“Can Bucky please tell me a story?”
“Sure, doll. Do you have any books I can read to you from?”
“I have books that big me likes but I don’t want those.”
“What would you like then?”
“I want a story that is Bucky’s. Tell me a story you didn’t tell anyone at the institution.”
Oh, she was jealous. The thought made Bucky smile as he pulled the covers up to her neck to make sure she was warm down on the floor.
“Okay, you ready?” Bucky asked, dimming the lights in her room.
She made herself comfortable under the covers, big eyes watching Bucky’s handsome grin as the cozy atmosphere he’s created comforted her through the storm, “ready.”
“Once upon a time, there was a small idiot who picked up fights with boys much bigger than himself. His name was Steve…”
Bucky fell asleep with his hand stroking her hair, watching her soft breaths leave her chest that night without abruptly waking up in the middle of it for the first time in forever.
~
Bucky didn’t know what it was like to be her, but he was going to do his best to put himself in her shoes like she’d previously tried.
She deserved to be fully and entirely understood.
He witnessed a glimpse of her feelings towards the concept of family a couple of times when they would watch movies like The Lion King or Lilo and Stitch.
She didn’t seem to be affected by the death of Mufasa even though he knew her to be a very sensitive little. She was sad for Simba, of course, but not for Mufasa’s demise. Similarly with Lilo and Stitch, she didn’t care much about the concept of the family.
There was an actual barrier separating her from experiencing any positive feelings that came with the idea of family. Because she had none to associate with hers.
With some more research, Bucky managed to find a few animated movies that didn’t seem to revolve around the idea of family love and how family was everything and whatnot.
One of those movies was The Willoughbys. The movie depicted how neglecting some parents can be and that 2 people loving each other and getting married didn’t necessarily mean they would love their children too.
It was a very unique movie and Bucky was actually happy they could make such movies nowadays.
When the song I Choose You started playing in the movie, Bucky felt her small hand squeezing into a fist.
He silently wrapped his hand around hers, offering quiet comfort and support.
“Bucky chooses you, doll. Wholeheartedly.” Bucky reassured, bringing her knuckles to his lips.
He looked down to see tears in her innocent eyes as she showed her feelings for the first time during one of their movie nights.
“Bucky chooses me?” she croaked, lip trembling as she cried.
“I choose Bucky, too.” She pulled him down by one cheek to leave a kiss on the other.
Bucky froze.
It was the first time she’s kissed him since he applied that cream on her burnt hand back at his house. She did it on her own, too.
“And I choose Corgi,” she said, running her fingers through the hair of the puppy sleeping soundly on her lap.
“That’s right, and Corgi chooses you. Family doesn’t have to be the ones you were born with, doll,” Bucky told her as he wiped her tears away, “you can choose the family you want for yourself”.
“Thank you, Bucky.” She hugged him tight, afraid he might not be real and that this moment is all made up.
“You’re welcome, doll.” Bucky kissed the side of her head as they pulled away.
“Can I choose Adam, too?” She asked, voice barely above a whisper as she gauged Bucky’s reaction.
She could actually hear his chest rumble with a low “argh” before he nodded despite himself, making her giggle.
“Don’t worry. I only have one Bucky.” She reassured, slinging her arm around Bucky’s metal one.
One daddy, she wanted to say, but she couldn’t. She was still scared.
~
Bucky knew that she needed her own independent time alone sometimes even when little, and he would allow her just that, texting throughout the day just to make sure she was okay, reminding her to drink water and take care of herself.
But there was one particularly hard weekend when she felt real down about some of her plants dying as the storm took them out of the ground.
When she opened the door she was clearly disheveled, hair all messy and looking like it hadn’t been brushed all week.
“Hey, doll,” Bucky spoke gently as he closed the door behind him.
She quickly ran into his arms, needing the comfort more than anything, “my plants are dead and Corgi peed on my new carpet and my hair doesn’t smell like shampoo anymore and I’m-”
Damn. She was spiraling. She just slipped out of his hug and on the floor. Oh no.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here now and I got you, okay?” Bucky tried his best to reassure her, getting on his knees before her to look into her eyes.
“Okay,” she hiccupped, nodding even though she wasn’t fully convinced.
“What happened to the plants?” Bucky wanted to handle her concerns one at a time.
“My apple trees were pulled out of place because of the storm,” she started sobbing again as she remembered what had happened to her hard word.
“Okay, okay, tell you what, I’ll put them back in place, okay?”
“Really?” She sniffed.
“Really.” Bucky smiled kindly.
“Okay.” She nodded, trying to control her breathing.
“And we’ll throw the new carpet in the washing machine, and keep Corgi in his playpen with pee pads,” Bucky gave her the steps of how the day was going to go, leading her by the hand to where Corgi was.
“Okay.” She nodded again, her tears ceasing.
“And while the carpet is being washed, I’ll help you wash your hair. Does that sound okay?” Bucky asked her permission, wanting to make sure she was completely comfortable.
“Yes.” She was finally smiling again as well.
“Okay, let’s get you in here,” Bucky told the puppy before placing him inside his playpen.
He spread a few sheets on which the dog could pee if needed before collecting the affected mat.
“Let’s take this to the washing machine,” Bucky voiced his movements, wanting to put her at ease as he kept her hand in his and walked with her to the bathroom.
“In you go.” Bucky threw the rug inside the washing machine along with some detergent.
“Now what do we do?” He asked her, wanting to keep her out of her head.
“Wash doll’s hair?” She asked with half a smile.
“That’s right, get in there.” Bucky tilted his head towards the bathtub with a smile.
~
And for some reason, it was different this time. He didn’t feel all weird seeing her naked. Maybe it was because he knew her better this time and was familiar with her in more ways than one that such intimacy didn’t startle him.
He wasn’t sure, but Bucky wasn’t complaining, only grateful as she closed her sweet eyes and trusted him to wash her hair for her.
“Alright, show me how it’s done,” Bucky encouraged, instructing her to whip her hair to the front so he could wrap the towel around it.
She did as told with a giggle, dangling her hair before her and letting Bucky wrap it up the best he could.
“Off to the couch.” Bucky chuckled as he watched her skip in her cashmere bathrobe to her couch.
Later after Bucky has brushed her hair for her, he helped her get dressed and they went outside together to replant the fallen apple saplings the wind had knocked down just like he'd promised.
The smile on her face was new and unmatched as she watched Bucky handle her plants with care.
“Thank you, Bucky.” She hugged him close, hardly wanting to let go as they stood in the middle of her garden.
Bucky was now rooted in her heart just like the plants in her garden were in their soil.
She didn’t think she could be away from him anymore. She didn’t want to be away from him anymore.
“Daddy, I’m hungry,” she whispered timidly as they started walking back to the house.
“What do you want on your piz- what did you say?” Bucky stopped in his tracks.
“I’m hungry.” She bit her lip and looked away quickly, hesitant now that his eyes were on her.
“Before that, doll.” Bucky brought her eyes back to his by her chin.
“D-daddy?”
Bucky smiled a smile that reached his eyes as they lit up with gratitude. He couldn’t believe he was finally hearing that word.
“Daddy’s thinking pizza, doll. Sound okay?”
Her face glowed up with her own smile as she witnessed Bucky, with full commitment, refer to himself as daddy.
She nodded, knowing this was going to be the most delicious pizza she was ever going to eat.
~
“What is daddy thinking?” She asked when she noticed his eyes on her, slipping a loose strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear.
“Just thinking about all the things you make me feel, doll.” He smiled, turning his face to kiss her hand before it left his face.
Her face started heating up as she retracted her hand, tingles spreading all over her, “things like what?”
“You make me feel like there’s still good in this world. Like I’m worth patience and kindness and maybe even… love,” Bucky voiced his feelings, eyes dreamy as they watched her pretend to be focused on organizing her stuffies’ seats on the floor.
“You are, daddy,” she replied sincerely, hurting inside that Bucky might doubt this even a little.
“I can’t believe I was so horrible to you, doll.” Bucky’s sigh came out hot from his chest, holding so much regret.
“That’s in the past, daddy. Doll doesn’t think about it no more.” She smiled, her littler hand covering his own lovingly before giving a soothing squeeze.
“You’re just perfect, aren’t you?” Bucky held her hand up and gave the back of it a noisy kiss.
She laughed, face heating up more at the sweet attention, “no body’s perfect, remember?”
Bucky tried to continue laughing with her but he was still kicking himself for what he did to her during her visit to his house.
“How did you even tolerate me back then, doll? I was the worst.” Bucky covered his face with his hands as he threw his head back, laying on his back on the floor full of shame.
“That’s not true. You just misunderstood me and that happens!” She was quick to defend him, refusing the idea that he would even criticize himself, “daddy is the best.”
“I know, but it still gave me no right to treat you the way I did.” Bucky’s eyes teared up at the memories of his very mean words and actions, “I made you cry a lot.” He struggled to forgive himself for that one.
“Daddy, I forgave you, I swear,” she promised, her hands cradling his full cheeks.
She felt like her heart might stop from sadness if Bucky was to cry right now.
“I’m really sorry. I’m really really sorry, doll.” Bucky’s eyes were sincere, holding so much emotion in them that she felt her own begin to fill up with tears.
“Daddy, you don’t need to apologize no more,” she whispered, doing her best to hold back tears.
“You have made me the luckiest man on earth by accepting me as your caregiver, your daddy, and you’ve taught me so much, doll.” Bucky actually started crying, a lot of held-inside feelings coming out at once.
“Daddy.” Her thumb wiped under his eyes gently as she felt her own tears roll down, “don’t say stuff like that”.
“But I need to. Because you did. You taught me unconditional love and acceptance. You taught me what it means to live again. Doll, your patience with my terribleness has taught me that maybe I’m not a hopeless case after all, and that this shell of a man with a metal arm might be capable of things he thought have been wiped from his memory long ago.”
“Daddy, please stop crying,” she sobbed, pressing her forehead to his chin as her attempts at wiping his tears away have proven to be futile.
“I love you so much, doll. I love you with every old bit of me and if you’ll have me…”
“Daddy?” she raised her head, eyes on Bucky’s face, trying to read his expression.
Could Bucky really be asking what she thought he was asking?
“Doll, I want you to be my baby for more than just a few days. Would you give me that honor? Would you let me be your daddy for real?”
“Daddy, are you sure?” she nervously bit her lip.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything before.” Bucky promised.
She nodded frantically, afraid the offer might disappear if she took too long to respond, “yes.”
“Thank you, doll.” Bucky breathed as he pulled her to him, strong arms engulfing her in a protective hug.
“Daddy will not regret it later?” her eyes watched him, a small hint of doubt still tainting her trust.
“Do you like the moon, doll?”
“Yes.” She tilted her head, not understanding the relation between her question and Bucky’s answer.
“You know how our sky only has one moon?”
She nodded.
“My heart is just like that. It can only have one doll no matter how much time passes.”
“Oh.” She sniffled, trying to hold the tears in.
“I love you, doll.” Bucky gave her hair a long kiss.
“I love you, daddy.” She kissed his chest, her arms tightening their hold around him as best as she could, never wanting to be away from him again.
And she wasn’t going to be. Bucky was an idiot who let her go once; never again was he going to make that mistake.
He was blessed with her now and he was going to spend every day of his life proving he was worthy of this blessing.
~
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Friends? Never. Pt.7 (Ellie Williams x reader)
SYNOPSIS: You and Ellie had been bitter enemies for years now but before that you were best friends. You had always planned to be roommates one day but when that becomes a reality the situation isn't exactly how you both imagined it.
SMUT mdni, brief mention of attempted SA, story-typical violence
It had been two weeks since Ellie had come back from patrol injured, Maria gave you leave so you could take care of her and it had been a nightmare for the full fourteen days, Ellie never once making life easy for you and proving herself to be the worst patient in all of history. Nevertheless, you still managed to get through it and today was your first day back on patrol. If you said you weren’t nervous you would be lying and if you said you were nervous solely because of the attack two weeks ago you would also be lying. You had been up all-night pacing and fretting about being away from Ellie for a whole day, you were so angry that in the space of two weeks you had become dependent on her company but there was nothing you could do to rationalise with yourself, so you paced, and you bit the skin around your nails raw and possibly pulled a couple clumps of hair out, you had yet to look in the mirror and assess the damage but when you walked into Ellie’s room where she was sitting eating breakfast, you knew it was bad.
“Why do you look like that?”
“Like what?”
“Bad.”
“Wow thanks.”
“Oh come on you know what I mean.” As you sit on the bed and lean in to peck her lips, she holds your face close to hers to whisper: “You always look beautiful, but you don’t look well.” She kisses you once again and leans her forehead on yours as you smile bittersweetly at each other.
Since your first kiss you had spent every second together, the little bubble surrounding you both was tinted pink and the second you walk out the front door for patrol you know the feeling will be ripped away from you. You had spent every night watching films, making dinner together once Ellie was mobile again and you had even started taking it in turns reading your book to each other. The new definition of your relationship was undecided but the air around you both was heavy with want. You had been holding yourself back because of Ellie’s condition and Ellie had been holding herself back because the irrational fear that she would somehow infect you if you had sex was at the forefront of her mind, sometimes she’d even hesitate to kiss you before remembering that it was okay. Things were calm and quiet, and you almost forgot the real world, almost.
“I’m fine El, I just didn’t sleep much last night.”
“Then you shouldn’t be going on patrol, you won’t be able to focus, tell Maria you can’t.”
“Okay so I tell Maria I can’t patrol because I’m tired, how do you think she’ll react?”
“... Okay fair enough but I don’t like it.”
“You and me both.” You gaze at her face that had the last remnants of some green and brown bruises as well as the stitched cut across her freckled cheeks that was healing well as you cup her cheek. She takes your hand in hers and kisses at your knuckles before tightening her grip and holding your fingers for her to inspect. “Wait, No Ellie.”
“I fucking knew it you liar, you’ve bitten them raw. Are they sore?” You snatch your hand away from her with a shameful look on your face as you avoid eye contact.
“No they’re fine. And I’m fine, I gotta go though so I’ll see you later.”
“What time will you be back?”
“Five-ish.” You both go quiet as the memory of that day dawns on each of you, you watch as panic flashes across her face. “Hey, it’s going to be okay, there’s a big group of us going today and we’re sticking together. They managed to get us walkie’s somehow, so we’ll be able to stay in touch with each other and Jackson, okay?”
“Okay.” She sighs and you kiss her check before walking to the door. “Be safe.” You look back at her and flash a solemn smile.
“Always.” You keep walking without looking back again for fear that if you did you would never leave, so you don’t look back until you’re on Greg and riding out of Jackson to your first checkpoint.
“Haven’t seen you in a while.” Lacey smiled at you. You were often on patrol with her, so you had become good friends. Her black curly hair was pulled up into a messy bun and her brown eyes sparkled with a hint of curiosity. Lacey was beautiful with her glowing deep-brown skin that only looked more heavenly in the sunlight that was beating down on you all. The first thing you noticed about her was her beauty but as you got to know her you found she was strong and kind. She was the first person you told about your sexuality and she was the first person after Maria that you told about your parents kicking you out.
“Yeah, I got given leave because my roommate got really hurt in the attack the other week, so I was taking care of her.”
“You were taking care of Ellie; I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that.”
“How do you know I live with Ellie?” You had barely seen Lacey since moving in with Ellie because of everything that’s happened so you hadn’t had a chance to tell her, for a second you wondered if you would have told her even if you had seen her, but you push the thought away before you let it distract you.
“Everyone knows.”
“What?”
“Oh come on, you two are sworn enemies and now you live together, everyone’s a little interested on what that’s like. So, fill me in, is she secretly buried in the backyard right now?” She grins at you playfully as you shake your head and chuckle.
“Well, um, she’s not dead yet.” You choke out a small laugh and immediately feel consumed with guilt as Lacey laughs with you. You don’t know why you said that. What you wanted to say is it’s been the best thing that’s ever happened to you, but your mouth wasn’t connected to your brain.
You had been to two out of four checkpoints and you were approaching your third now, a small holiday town with large cabins and a couple shops and bars, whenever you came here you always tried to imagine what it was like before the outbreak but your mind can never conjure up a picture and it frustrates you more each time. The actual checkpoint is one of the furthest cabins from the entrance to the town, so you check each building you pass on your way to it. There were seven of you today and each person seemed more on edge than the next but other than a couple stragglers you had been okay so far. You felt stupid for relaxing a little the second one of your men went down and bullets started raining down on your group.
“FIND COVER NOW!” You scream to the rest of them and as you sprint past Finn lying dead on the floor something inside you flips and you’re no longer consciously acting, all your movements were controlled by the need to get back home to Ellie safely as you dived into the first cabin on your left. Immediately you pull your handgun out and check your pocket to catalogue how much ammo you had. You quickly but carefully check each room downstairs. If you had been calm and collected you would have went upstairs first knowing that you’re more likely to find someone there than downstairs, but you aren’t calm and collected, you’re panicked and running entirely on adrenaline. You hadn’t realised how easy it was for life to end, how quick, you had always pushed the thought of death away knowing it was all too possible in the hostile world you lived in, so you chose to stay ignorant to reality. You were content with your decision, until you hear the creak of a floorboard behind you. Without a second thought you spun round firing your gun twice, you watch as the figure that you had shot at dove towards you showing you his grisly face. You fire again but he’s too quick, slamming you down to the ground and climbing on top of you, pinning you down. You glance at your gun that had been hit out of your hand and was now sitting in the corner of the room, mocking you. He smiles like the cheshire cat as he runs a knife down your face before reaching for the walkie talkie he had attached to his hip.
“Boys come to number 7, I’ve got a pretty one.” He speaks into the walkie talkie before turning his attention back to you. “I’m gonna enjoy this.” He begins reaching to unbuckle his belt and your body turns cold.
Get home to Ellie.
You lean up and smash your head into his and as he groans with a disoriented expression, you deliver a hard punch straight to his nose.
Get home to Ellie.
You push him off you and scramble away as quick as you can but his hand latches onto your ankle, you let him pull you closer and then kick him hard in the face which allows you to wriggle free again.
Get home to Ellie.
This time you manage to make it to your gun, immediately shooting him straight in the foot. He bellows out as he goes to the ground and you watch as you grab your walkie talkie.
“Come to number 7, be discreet and be ready, there’s a group of them and they’re all coming here. I’ve got one already.” You walk over to the now writhing man and jam the gun into his stomach. “WHO ARE YOU?!” You screech out. His silence angers you more so you slam the base of your gun down onto his temple. “Start talking or I break your arm next.”
“I’d like to see you try.” He chuckles and the arrogance sets something off inside you, in one swift motion you hold his right arm up, his dominant one you had noticed, and stomp down onto it until you hear a loud crack and see the creamy white of his bone poking through his upper arm. The scream he lets out is inhumane, but it was music to your ears.
“You’ve got a minute or I break the other one too.”
“FINE, fine, we spotted your town a couple days ago, we were gonna take you guys as hostages to make them trade us for supplies.”
“Oh so you’re raider scum.”
“We’re survivors just like you, you ain’t better than us just because you live in your fancy, cosy town.”
“If you wanted supplies, you could’ve just approached the walls, we help anyone that needs it. That’s why we’re better than you.” As you finish speaking Lacey burst through the door dragging an unconscious man by his foot, she brings him to be in line with the man before you and drops his foot. The rest of your team follow, bringing in three more guys between them. “Two of you go find stuff to tie them up with.” You look back at your group that were waiting eagerly for what you next had to say. There was no leader in patrol groups, but they were listening to you like you were.
“How did you find us?” You turn your attention back to the men sat before you, the conscious ones each exchange looks. You slam your boot-clad foot into one of the men brought in by your team.
“Look at me. How did you find us?”
“People talk, pretty town like yours, shit like that makes the rounds.” One of them pipes up. He’s clutching his side, and you notice the blood seeping from between his fingers, you walk over to him so you’re towering over his hunched form.
“What people?”
“Met a girl and her friends, said they’re looking for a guy who lives there but they don’t know where it is, only that it's in Wyoming. They’re on their way too but we move faster than most, we just wanted supplies.”
“Did she say the name of the guy she’s looking for?”
“Nope.” Your face turns dark as you raise your gun to his head and shoot him in a split second, the thump of him hitting the floor coincides with Lacey and Raphael coming back into the room with all the stuff they found. They all look at you as though you have two heads.
“He was bleeding out, would’ve been deadweight.” They nod and start getting to work tying the rest up. They go to tie their feet, but you stop them. “We’re taking them with us. Maria’s gonna want to interrogate them about this. I’m gonna radio Maria and tell her we’re bringing back hostages. The rest of you watch them, they move you shoot but not to kill, got it?” They all nod, and you walk to the next room along to contact Maria.
“We’re heading back now, we’re at Mountain Valley, we got ambushed by raiders and we’re getting ready to transport them now, they’re talking about a group that are on their way to Jackson looking for someone, figured you’d want to talk to them. We had one casualty, Finn, he went quick.” Your voice trembles but you take a deep breath to hold it together.
“Okay, well done, he shouldn’t have died but six is better than none, don’t beat yourself up, it’s not your fault.” Her bluntness had always been refreshing but now it was causing bile to rise up your body, you push the feeling down and concentrate on replying.
“I’ll see you at the gates.” You can’t acknowledge what Maria said, it doesn’t feel right, so you focus on getting the raiders ready to take back to Jackson. You all load them onto your horses, tying them to the reins and then climb onto your horses also. Lucas volunteered to take Finn on his horse so his family could say goodbye and he could be buried in Jackson. You, Ben, Mick and Lacey each have a raider on your horse, so you climb on behind them and jam your guns into their backs as a warning. The ride back to Jackson went by in a flash and before you know it, you’re approaching the slowly opening gates of home.
Ellie was standing at the gates of Jackson, when she walked, or limped, over there it was 4 PM, she knew she’d likely be waiting for some time, but she couldn’t sit at home waiting for you to come back any longer. She finally understood your reaction to her coming home late because you weren’t even due back yet and her anxiety was the worst it had ever been. She figured waiting at the gates would be better than waiting at home but as she approached the gates and saw Maria standing there as well as a large group of guards, she felt uneasy. The atmosphere was calm but foreboding and she couldn’t understand why there were so many guards just standing and waiting. She walked over to Maria who looked stunned even before she was faced with Ellie who she wasn’t expecting to be out of bed let alone at the gates.
“Maria, what’s going on?”
“They got ambushed by raiders, the scumbags got Finn, but they managed to take them as hostages, they’re due to be back soon.”
“Why are they bringing them back?”
“She didn’t say.”
“You spoke to her?”
“Yes Ellie, she’s fine.” Ellie felt her cheeks flush at Maria’s obvious awareness of the situation between the both of you, but the thought is wiped from her mind when she hears yells to open the gates. She moves as quickly as she can towards the crowd of people, mimicking your movements two weeks prior, shoving and pushing past people to get to the front. She watches as you ride in on Greg with a man hunched over in front of you, she makes no attempt to move, just watching the scene play out before her.
Two guards walk over to you as you climb off Greg and reach up to cut his ties to the reins with your knife before yanking him down where he lands on the ground with a thud and an ear-piercing screech. “You bitch.” She hears him spit out and she can’t contain the small chuckle that leaves her lips when you kick him once on the arm he was already clutching. He writhes and cries and as he turns, she sees the white of his bone protruding from his arm. She’s watching intently as she surveys the damage done to him until she notices your eyes on her.
You weren’t expecting Ellie to be at the gate, especially not since you were early but the sight of her standing there staring back at you releases all the tension in your body. You were home, with Ellie, everything would be okay. You go to start walking over to her but Maria steps in your way putting a hand on your shoulder. “I need to speak with you.”
“Wait- Can I-”
“Now. Let’s go.” She pulls you by your arm and as you catch a glimpse of Ellie over your shoulder you mouth ‘I’m sorry’ at her before letting Maria yank you away from the crowd.
Ellie watched Maria dragging you away and her guard immediately went back up again as she subtly started to follow you both. You walk round a corner, out of sight, and she darts to the edge of the building that would shield her from yours and Maria’s sight as she focuses on trying to listen to your conversation while wincing from the sudden movement.
“Not a word of this to anyone. Seriously, not Ellie, no one.”
“Alright I got it. Are you worried?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Who do you think they’re looking for?”
“I don’t know, do you think they’re not letting on everything they know?”
“Maybe, I’m not sure.”
“Well we’ll find out won’t we.” Ellie panicked as she heard footsteps coming her way, she once again darts round the other corner of the building so she’s out of sight of whoever is about to walk past and as she watches Maria storm away she creeps back round the building until she’s met with you, standing staring at the floor as you bit at the skin around your nails.
“Are you okay?” You jump but relax as you see it’s Ellie approaching you.
“Yeah, hi, I’m okay.” She pulls you into a hug that neither of you feel ready to leave so she speaks into your shoulder.
“What the fuck happened?”
“Fucking raiders.” Your voice is muffled by her chest but she can understand you fine.
“Sorry about Finn. You know it’s not your fault right?”
“Yeah I know.” You were lying but it was easier to lie than have this conversation right now.
“Why’d you bring them back?”
“Thought Maria should decide what to do with them.” You both know you’re lying but she leaves it for the moment.
“Come on, let’s go home.”
“I actually had a better idea.” You pull away from her with a cheeky smirk as she cocks an eyebrow at your tone.
You’re sat in a booth with Ellie at the Tipsy Bison nursing your fifth drink of the night, you had been there for an hour and a half. You recognise the first few notes of one of your favourite songs: ecstasy by the crooked stills, and you gasp before jumping up and standing in front of Ellie. “We have to dance to this.”
“I’m good.”
“That wasn’t a question.” You grab her hand and gently but firmly pull her up and onto the dancefloor with you. Despite her reluctance her hands immediately find their place at your waist, sqeezing a little, as you begin to sway to the slow song together. You arms that are round her neck pull her closer to you until your bodies are pressed together and your head is resting on her shoulder.
Ellie feels her cheeks redden as she realises you two are in public and dancing together, so closely too, but as she looks up, she breathes a sigh of relief that no one’s eyes are on you both. It wasn’t that she wanted it to be a secret but she felt like she was under a magnifying glass whenever she was out and now was no different. She notices you shifting until your face is back in front of hers where she meets your lidded eyes. You’re drunk and she knows that so she had only had one drink to make sure she could watch you, she wanted to let you blow off some steam but the thought of being drunk like you were now unsettled her. Her eyes widen as you lean in but they shut as she relaxes into the kiss. You lick at her bottom lip and she opens her mouth so her tongue can collide with yours and the kiss deepens as you cock your head to the side slightly and push your body impossibly closer to hers. As you both pull away she looks at you with a giddy expression, she hated being the centre of attention but knowing that you just kissed her in front of everyone here makes her beam with pride, until she notices your eyes aren’t meeting hers, they’re fixed over her shoulder and your eyebrows were scrunched together in a cruel scowl. She glances over her shoulder and when she sees your parents standing there both red with scowls that matched yours she realised you kissing her in front of everyone had nothing to do with her. You were using her to piss off your parents and she felt more hurt than she had two weeks ago after the attack from the horde.
“Are you fucking serious?” She pulls away from you leaving almost a foot of space between you both.
“What?” You feign ignorance, she shakes her head and chuckles drly before storming away from you and out of the bar.
“Ellie, wait up! What the fuck is your problem?” You slur as you chase after her, despite the limp she was moving impressively quickly. As you catch up to her she spins around with fire in her eyes.
“YOU! You’re my fucking problem.” You stand completely taken back by her rage as she begins walking off again, the guilt consumes you in an instant as you begin trailing behind her, keeping your distance, knowing you had been caught. It wasn’t like you only kissed her because your parents were watching but that fact doesn’t make what you did any less awful. The walk was slow and long despite Ellie storming as fast as her injured body would take her and when she reaches the house and enters she slams the door behind her, right in your face. You enter cautiously and close the door behind you quietly as you see her stomping up the stairs. You flinch as you hear her bedroom door slam and prepare yourself for the worst as you turn the doorknob and shamefully slip through the door. “Get out.”
“No, let me explain.”
“Get out.”
“No Ellie, just listen please.” She moves towards you at lightning speed and pushes you against the wall holding you there, she was rough but she wasn’t trying to hurt you. Her breathing was deep and fast as she stared you down with dark eyes. Neither of you spoke, you didn’t know what to say and all Ellie wanted to do was scream so you both stayed silent and frozen in your places. She takes in the sight of you hungrily as her mind is is contemplating her next move. Just looking at you makes her angry but as she takes in your appearance, something else takes over.
She smashes her lips into yours so hard it almost hurt as your teeth clash together and her tongue prods at your lower lip. Her hand finds its place around your neck and squeezes until you gasp so she can invade your mouth with her tongue, her hand remains wrapped around your neck squeezing more gently this time as you moan into her mouth. She snaps away from you and pulls you away from the wall before pushing you down onto the bed face first, you go to flip over to face her but her knee over the arch of your back stops you. “That was fucked up.”
“I know Ellie, I’m sorry.”
“Shut up.” She grabs a handful of your ass and kneads at the flesh. You hadn’t seen this side of Ellie, even when you would bicker day in and out, she still seemed like Ellie. This wasn’t Ellie. You feel her knee leave your back but you don’t move, afraid that if you anger her more she’ll leave you pent up and frustrated. You just watch as she looks down at you taking in your body from this angle before hooking her hands round the waistband of your trousers and underwear, she meets your eyes and for a second you see your Ellie in there. “You wanna do this?”
“Please.”
“You’re gonna regret that.” She yanks everything down in one swoop leaving you completely bare from the waist down. She grabs your hips and yanks them up until you knees bend to support the new position. You feel vulnerable knowing she can see everything right now but you feel safe regardless as you watch her eye your heat with a lick of her lips.
You gasp and jolt as you feel her rubbing two fingers up and down your slit gathering your slick and spreading it all around. Her free hand holds you in place with a bruising grip on your hip as she surveys your face to check you’re okay. She was so, so angry at you but the thought of hurting you almost made her stop for a second, she only didn’t because of the quiet whine that left your lips as you wiggled your hips at her slightly trying to signal what you need.
“Ask for it or you’re not getting it.” You roll your eyes before sighing and accepting defeat on this one occasion knowing that if there was ever a time to not hit her with a snarky rebuttal, now was the time.
“Please fuck me, Ellie.” Your words set something off inside her and she immediately plunged two of her long fingers inside you as the other hand left your hip to rub tight circles harshly on your throbbing clit. You groan at the sudden intrusion as you push back, your needy hole sucking her fingers in even deeper as you shudder. Her hands were bigger than yours so her fingers reached places you never had and the feeling had your eyes rolling back in your head. She curled her fingers to abuse your sweet spot as her assault on your core only quickened, your body was on fire as you trembled and moaned. “Oh fuck Ellie, please... keep going.” You can barely get the words out through bated breaths and a mixture of groans and moans as you clamp your eyes shut focusing on chasing your high that was racing at you like lightning. “I’m so close oh my god.” As quick as your release approached, it dwindled away as Ellie removed her fingers from you and flipped you over.
She could barely feel the achey pain in her body as she stared down at the prickly expression on your face. You open your mouth to question her but before you can she slips her fingers that were shiny from your arousal into your mouth, making you gag as she pushes them in to the knuckles.
“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” She uses her hand in your mouth to manoeuvre your head into a nod that she can’t help but smile at. It was the first time you had seen her smile since you started dancing at the bar so the sight warmed you until her face dropped once again. With her free hand she yanked down her bottoms in the same fashion she did yours before climbing on top of one of your thighs to slot you both together at the hips. She brings the thigh she isn’t straddling to rest over her shoulder as she bites at your calf, you wince at the sting, but the pain is immediately replaced by pleasure as she begins to grind herself down onto you, hard and fast. Her face screws up as her eyes clamp shut ignoring the way yours were staring holes into her as she chased her high. Your moans became muffled to her as she uses you to get herself off. You’re seeing stars as her hips begin to stutter in their rhythm but once again, the feeling goes as quick as it came as she finishes with a guttural groan and stills her hips on yours.
“No, no, no.” You whine to yourself as you throw your head back in frustration until you feel her climb off you and yank you up from the bed so you’re standing in front of her. She doesn’t wait before she spins you around and starts walking you backwards to the door. As you realise what she’s doing panic takes over and you wrap your arms around her in a death grip as you plead with her. “No, please Ellie. Come on, let’s talk. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She reaches the still open door from earlier and pushes you off her past the doorframe. She slams the door in your face before she can even see you stagger from the force of her push.
You consider storming back in there but decide now wasn’t the time before dragging yourself to your room where you shut the door and immediately curl up on your bed as you pull the covers over yourself. You hug your knees tightly to your chest as the tears begin to fall. You had sex with Ellie, for the first time, and she kicked you out afterwards without a second thought. You weren’t angry, you understood why she did it, but it didn’t hurt any less.
You fall asleep still hugging yourself tightly trying to pretend it’s Ellie’s who’s embracing you and that you aren’t alone right now. But you are.
tags: @emiliabby @readbydayana @radioheadfan699
#ellie the last of us#ellie tlou#ellie williams#ellie williams tlou#ellie smut#ellie williams angst#ellie williams fanfic#ellie williams fluff#ellie williams imagine#ellie williams smut#ellie williams the last of us#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams x you#ellie x fem reader#ellie x reader#ellie x you#tlou ellie
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WIP excerpt for tabetharasa behind the cut; alpha Jazz, a dark alley, and a very pretty omega. ( + non-chrono link for mobile users )
Jazz has no idea why Red Hood thinks he smells anything but delicious, but there’s a very reckless and dubiously-ethical part of her that would be willing to prove it to him. Not that she would, obviously, because that would be, again, incredibly unethical and highly inappropriate and also a total dick move.
She just could, that’s all. Just if it came up or whatever.
“Well, it’s not,” she says, mildly put out by whatever’s going on here, and Red Hood growls. His scent blockers continue to be useless. Just–absolutely useless, yes.
Ancients, he smells so good. What is she even supposed to do about how good this omega smells?
Maybe offer to walk him home, or at least offer him her jacket so he has enough alpha scent on him that no one bothers him on his way back to his den. Although he’s a crime lord–or a vigilante? one or the other, whatever–who’s built like a truck, so that probably isn’t really a concern, she supposes.
Then again, some people seriously do have no sense of decorum.
Or survival instincts.
“Shut the fuck up!” Red Hood snaps. Jazz frowns. That seems like a disproportionate amount of anger in his tone. Maybe he's sensitive about his pheromones. Well, if people have been telling him he smells like death . . .
Though “death” doesn't necessarily smell bad, in Jazz's opinion.
Admittedly, that's a liminal's opinion and besides the point anyway. But still.
“Alright,” she says. “But can you get to your den safely? Or . . . somewhere you can den down, anyway, I don't know. I assume you have a headquarters or a safehouse or two, something like that. Or at least can afford a heat hotel or know a decent clinic.”
Red Hood hisses at her. It crackles through his modulator, but the sound of it still makes her jeans a little . . . uncomfortable, she'll just say. Sue her, she likes omegas with a bite to them. Johnny 13 definitely didn't win her over by being the sweet and polite type; he won her over by being a blunt asshole in a leather jacket who'd convinced her that he was a sincere and straight-up person.
She wonders how “sincere” the average Gotham crime boss really is, but it’s a little difficult to concentrate on that question with the scent of old books and burning cedar filling up her nose. And also that note of lilac. That note of lilac is a problem.
A serious problem.
“I realize heat drop is probably imminent and you must be uncomfortable, but it’s a valid concern on my part, given your condition,” she says, which normally she’d make sound politely disapproving but really can’t make sound any kind of disapproving right now. Again: the lilac. “So can you?”
“Fuck makes you think I'd let you anywhere near my den?” Red Hood snarls. Jazz blinks; tilts her head.
“Nothing,” she says. “What makes you think I was asking to go anywhere near it?”
Red Hood–stalls, briefly. Jazz tries to be polite about how incredibly obvious a tell that statement was.
Flattering, but incredibly obvious.
“I mean, I'd be happy to escort you if you’d like,” she says. “Or lend you my scent, if you need it. But I'm not trying to presume anything.”
“Fuck off,” Red Hood snarls. “Nobody escorts an omega like me.”
“Do you think maybe you have some self-esteem issues?” Jazz asks. Heat is almost definitely making him a bit more volatile and emotional than normal, considering the kinds of things he’s been saying to her, but it still seems like a valid question. Being on their cycle doesn’t make people different people; just makes it a bit harder for them to censor and control themselves.
Or a lot harder, sometimes.
Judging by how strong Red Hood’s pheromones smell right now . . .
Well, he might be having a harder time than he’s used to having, so far as “controlling himself” goes.
Jazz certainly is, all inappropriate knotheaded puns aside.
Do Poison Ivy’s pollens make cycles hit harder, actually? Or does the suddenness of the effect disorient or throw people off, maybe?
Well, that’s a worrying thought, since Red Hood seems to be out here alone.
“‘Self-esteem issues’?” Red Hood repeats incredulously, his pheromones briefly sparking with bewilderment. Jazz decides not to press it, since he might be feeling a little vulnerable right now.
“Yes,” she says. “Is there someone you can call, if you don’t want an escort or to borrow my scent? I could wait with you until they show. No offense, just Park Row’s not a very nice neighborhood.”
Red Hood laughs.
“No fucking shit!” he says, spreading his arms. “It’s Crime Alley!”
“I know, sorry, I just keep accidentally calling it ‘Park Row’ in my head. Still new in town,” Jazz apologizes. She assumes a crime lord would prefer his territory be correctly referred to, anyway. Seems like a thing. She knows standard humans don’t actually have haunts–even most liminal ones don’t, including her–but sometimes she does . . . well, not forget, exactly, but just . . . expect them to anyway, she supposes?
She spent way too long in Amity, yes.
Even without Crime Alley being Red Hood’s actual haunt, though, it’s still disrespectful to call it the wrong name. It’s still his territory either way, and she imagines someone on their cycle especially wouldn’t appreciate the mistake.
“What is your damage?” Red Hood snarls, his voice modulator crackling threateningly as he visibly bristles, and Jazz catches notes of that electric and unexpected edge in his pheromones again. Still vaguely familiar, but still not quite what it seems like it should be. Just . . .
Really, if she didn’t know better . . . well, she’d think he was liminal. But that seems like a very unlikely coincidence for her first week in Gotham, so . . .
Then again, her life is her life.
It’s not really the time to be asking Red Hood about his levels of ecto exposure, though, and she’s pretty sure they’ve both got more important priorities right now.
“We don’t really have time to unpack all that, to be honest. You really do need to get home,” she says. “Or at least call someone to pick you up. If you go into heat drop alone in Crime Alley, I can’t imagine it’s going to end well.”
Red Hood hisses. That might’ve sounded like a threat, Jazz realizes belatedly.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she says, apologetic again. “But it’s not safe, is it?”
“If anyone I don’t want near my ass tries to touch me, I’ll put a bullet up theirs,” Red Hood growls, low and crackling.
“That seems like a lot of trouble when you’re on your cycle, though,” Jazz says. He’d have a body to deal with, and maybe someone would call the cops–well, she supposes it is Crime Alley, so maybe not . . .? But it’d be self-defense anyway, and if he is a crime lord, maybe he has people for that.
Hm.
She really needs to get familiar with this area as soon as possible, yeah. And just Gotham in general, really. Every city has its own idiosyncrasies, but Gotham is its idiosyncrasies.
Well, so is Amity Park, of course.
“I think you belong in Arkham, lady,” Red Hood says. Jazz feels like a Gothamite should be more understanding of someone taking supervillain attack side effects and hostile heated-up crime lords in stride, but apparently not.
“Technically, you’re not wrong,” she says with a wry smile. She’d offer him a handshake, but that’s not really appropriate for an alpha to offer to an omega in heat. Especially not an unmated alpha, which Jazz very definitely is. “I start Monday. Jazz Fenton, psychiatric intern. At your service.”
Red Hood manages to very clearly stare at her without actually taking off the helmet. It's actually an impressive amount of expressiveness to get across, under the circumstances.
Or there could be a touch of liminal empathy happening, admittedly. That's possible too. Especially with another liminal involved.
Jazz briefly considers what knotting a liminal omega might actually be like if an empathy loop got established somewhere in the process, which is a lie, because what she’s actually imagining is picking up this liminal omega and showing him exactly how delicious she thinks he smells.
Definitely inappropriate.
“They will literally eat you alive,” Red Hood says.
“I mean, there’s a risk of it,” Jazz allows, because nothing is a perfect guarantee. It’s just not a very large risk. Comparatively, she means.
“You applied to Arkham on purpose, lady?” Red Hood says disbelievingly.
“Oh, no,” Jazz says, shaking her head. “They made me an offer. Somebody read my thesis and liked it, apparently.”
Well . . . “thought we should interview you for either a position or to have your file established for whenever the convictions start rolling in”, whichever. The interviewing psychiatrists had a range of reactions during her interview, she supposes is the best way to put it.
Jazz really doesn’t think it’s fair to classify her parents as actual supervillains, but an increasingly long list of professionals has, admittedly, not agreed with that assessment.
She can’t imagine what they would’ve thought if she’d told them about Danny, considering.
Well, it’s not her problem if someone else is going to be close-minded about things like that.
“I’m sorry, I’m really not trying to be pushy here, but are you sure you don’t want to call anyone? Or want my scent. Or . . . literally anything,” she says, gesturing a little awkwardly with her shopping bags. “I do get told my pheromones are pretty discouraging to unwanted attention, if that helps?”
“Sure they are,” Red Hood snorts. Jazz tries not to look disapproving, given his compromised state. That kind of thing can bother omegas in heat, she knows.
“That’s what people tell me,” is all she says. Obviously it’s not just the default parts of her scent that make it a strong deterrent, but as for the force of the emotions and claim she can put into it . . .
Well. She just hears it’s “discouraging” to other alphas pretty regularly, that’s all. And also some betas, depending on their sexuality. And, um . . . well, a little closer to “catnip”, for omegas, but . . .
“I’ll believe it when I smell it, knothead,” Red Hood snorts again. “Prove it.”
Jazz isn’t sure that’s a good idea, considering–again–his compromised state, but, well . . . he’s clearly a strong omega himself, and maybe she’s a little miffed by him just assuming she’s lying about something like that, that’s all. She knows plenty of alphas do lie about their pheromones or even lay on fake ones, but . . . well, it’s hard not to wonder if he just thinks she’s a lesser alpha because she’s female, or because of how she’s dressed or looks or speaks, or just because.
Her inner alpha doesn’t love the experience of one of the most gorgeous-smelling omegas she’s ever scented sneering at her worth as an alpha without even giving her a shot to prove it, either way.
“Are you sure?” she asks.
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Sealed With A Kiss | Bakugou Katsuki x Reader
Didn’t think I’d write anything for Bakugou’s birthday and then a random idea popped into my head and I wrote it all in one sitting. It’s been months since I’ve started and finished a fic, so please be kind! And Happy Birthday, Bakugou!💕
Summary: Not everyone wants the quirk that they're given. Ever since you were a child, you were cursed with a quirk where you’re able to see how someone will die when you kiss them. Unsure on whether your quirk is telling the future, or sealing their fate with a kiss of death, its safer for you to completely give up on finding love. Coming to terms over the years that you’ll have to watch all your friends get married and settle down, while you spend the rest of your life alone. That is, until you run into Bakugou Katsuki.
Warnings: 18+, minimal plot, mostly smut, no beta, praise, dirty talk, fingering, multiple orgasms, public sex, protected sex, not as angsty as I thought it’d be!
Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.
Word Count: 6.4k.
What would you do if you could tell someone the exact time and way that they’re going to die? Would you share that information with them, hoping that they can get their affairs in order and live those final moments to the fullest before kicking the bucket? Or would you keep quiet about it, holding onto the information as though it's a sordid little secret that needs to be buried and taken to your own grave?
Not that it matters anyway, because even if you held that information no one would believe you anyway, would they? Telling someone that they’re going to die in a car accident when they don’t even drive, or that they die during a snowstorm in July. It’s like people only ever believe what they want to hear, and it’s the same reason why even your best friend doesn’t know about your quirk. Imagine if you’d proved it, writing down your prediction and then waiting for it to happen. Counting down the days like you’re waiting for an exciting event, not waiting for someone to die. And then what? Someone dies and people want you to do it again, to prove that it wasn’t just a fluke. And then what? You’re kissing every single person that comes along just to tell them that they’re not going to make it to their next birthday?
Quirks should be a blessing, but yours was most definitely a curse.
“You know you really should start trying to settle down, you’re not getting any younger.” You could practically feel the disdain in their tone as you tried to avoid the question by taking a sip of your drink.
“You act like she’s going to die soon,” Your best friend Tatami laughed, shaking her head, “She’s got plenty of time.”
Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. You should scoff at the saying, but in this instance, it was very much true. The entire Hen party was made more awkward by the fact that you didn’t like any of your best friends friends’. All socialites that would give up your deepest, darkest secrets to further themselves and get their names plastered all over the latest tabloids. You were lucky enough to have known her since childhood, but it didn’t make it any easier.
Every wedding you’d attended in the last few years was even more elaborate and outrageous than the last like each bride competed to show that they had the most magnificent life. And every time you were stuck in an uncomfortable bridesmaid dress, trying to avoid the same string of questioning that you knew was coming.
“Come on, Tatami.” One of the girls rolled her eyes, taking a large sip of champagne, “Why don’t you try to set her up with one of your old school friends? At least then she’d be with a man with ambition.”
You felt irritated by them talking about you as though you weren’t even in the room, never mind sitting on the opposite ends of a table. They made it seem as though you were incapable of finding a partner like no one would ever want you.
“Or you could try one of those dating websites, I almost married a rich tycoon from Russia on there before I settled down with my husband. It’s funny how things work out.”
Of course, no one even bothers to ask me whether I want a boyfriend or not– never mind a husband. You rolled your eyes at the idea of flying out to Russia to marry a rich oil tycoon.
“I’m happily single at the moment,” You force a smile, your hand tightening against your glass, “
“They are right though, darling.” Tatami gave you a soft smile, “You have been single for quite some time. I’m not even certain I remember the last time you even mentioned going on a date with anyone?”
That’s because you hadn’t. Not since you lost your boyfriend all those years ago. Why would you try to look for someone again knowing what you know now?
Growing up you’d eagerly awaited receiving your quirk, but the longer it took to manifest the more you’d come to terms that you were one of the quirkless. It wasn’t until you shared your first kiss at sixteen that you realised that maybe things weren’t quite as they seemed. Everyone anticipates their first kiss, hoping it would be one of those special, perfect moments that you’d remember for the rest of your life. But instead, the moment you’d shared yours, you’d been struck with a horrifying premonition.
It felt like a dream at first, a moment where you’d pinch yourself and realise that everything had been concocted in your mind. The vision of your first love walking into traffic on a cold, snowy evening. The cars were unable to stop against the icy terrain as they drove straight towards him, the lights bouncing off the road to make it difficult to see pedestrians as he was knocked to his back. You’d even told him about it after it happened, laughing about how vivid your imagination was– but not even three months later and it's like your nightmare came true.
You’d told yourself it was a coincidence, that it could've happened to anyone and it was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Trying to heal your heart as you took time to recover from losing your first love until you met your next boyfriend. You were trying to allow yourself to be happy again, to forget the bad memories that haunted your past. Until it happened again– your first kiss with him gave you a vision. This time a villain attack endangered the city, your boyfriend was caught in the crossfire as a fire quirk ripped through his body and burnt him from the inside out.
It should’ve frightened you, much like the first time. But instead, you just felt numb. It was then you realised that you weren’t in fact quirkless, but instead of gaining a talent that was cool, flashy or useful to society– you inherited a curse.
Of course, there was no way you could explain your quirk to anyone, finding someone that believed you would be hard enough. But telling someone that you know when they’re going to die purely from kissing them? It sounded insane. Not to mention what it could do if the information fell into the wrong hands. Using the information for those dark, depraved benefits.
And to this day you weren’t even sure whether kissing someone showed the way they were going to die, or whether kissing them sealed their fate. Like you were the grim reaper handing out the macabre kiss of death.
Why would anyone want to be with you?
So it was easier this way, guarding your heart so you couldn’t feel the pain of losing someone you love again. A small price to pay to ensure that you didn’t harm anyone else, and the disappointed looks from your friends that you were still very much single were a small price to pay.
But you did feel alone.
Watching all your friends get married, settle down and have kids was harder when you knew you could never have those things. Maybe that's why it hurt even more. We always desire what we can’t have, after all.
“Let me set you up on one date and see how it goes,” Tatami’s annoying friend dipped her glass towards you from across the table, the champagne sloshing inside it, “I have this friend, not much of a looker, but he’s a quirk defence lawyer. It pays good money, and he’s looking to settle down–”
“It’s alright, I’m really not looking–” You felt awkward as each set of eyes around the table scrutinised you.
“Nonsense, he’d be perfect for you,” She continued, and you almost groaned as she pulled out her phone, “Let me text him now, I bet he could get you lunch in that new Sushi restaurant in the city.”
“Sorry, I just need the bathroom-” You almost shoved Tatami out of the booth as she stood up to let you out, her drink splashing as you tried to give her a reassuring smile before disappearing into the throng of people inside the busy nightclub. You weren’t even sure if you’d be able to find it back to your table at this point, but all you knew is you needed to get out.
The heat inside the club was suffocating, burning through you as you tried to find an exit. Weaving through the sea of people as you tried to remind yourself to breathe. Heaving a sigh as you noticed the sign to a smoking area as you followed the few people heading in the same direction. Stepping into the cool evening air is a welcome relief, the chill pricks against your skin as the heat slowly simmers down. Leaning against the rough brick wall as the back of your head knocks against it gently, closing your eyes to try and alleviate the irritation bubbling up inside you.
“Oi, you okay?” Your eyes opened into a glare to see the source of the voice, your nose scrunched in irritation at the blunt introduction.
A blond man stood a few feet away from you, cell phone in hand. The bright screen illuminated his face and cast a soft glow against his skin. You felt your heart betray you as it sped up at the sight of him, suddenly feeling self-conscious beneath his piercing ruby gaze.
“M’fine.” You mumbled, not about to dump all your issues on a random stranger.
“You don’t look fine,” He shrugged, glancing back down at his phone as he typed against the screen.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You sneered, your defences up.
“You just look pissed,” He smirked, and it only irritated you more.
Who did this fucking asshole think he was?
“Well I’ve got a random stranger bothering me, so perhaps I am.”
The answer has the opposite effect you were expecting as the blond beside you gives you a wide grin, shaking his head.
“Gotta be better than the desperate pricks inside there?” He tilts his head towards the club and you’ve gotta admit he’s right. You’ve been standing beside him for a minute and he hasn’t tried to buy you a drink or grab your ass.
“Guess you’re right.” You exhale softly.
“Whatever it is can’t be that bad anyway,” He shrugs, “You’re too pretty to be frownin’.”
You hate the way your heart throbs when he calls you pretty, it's pathetic really.
“You come here alone?”
Does he really think you’re that much of a loser to come to a club by yourself?
‘No, my friends are still inside.”
“So why are you out here alone?” He raises a questioning brow.
“Why are you here?” You crossed your arms against your chest defensively, turning the question back on him like he wasn’t doing the exact same thing you were.
“Got a big promotion today,” He shrugs it off like it’s nothing. Probably just another step on the never-ending corporate ladder to him, “My friends got me out to celebrate.”
“Is that why you’re standing outside on your own?” You shoot back, unable to miss the way his nostrils flare in irritation.
“Could say the same to you, sweetheart.” He scoffs, “Who’re you here with?”
“My best friend,” You smile softly, “She’s getting married.”
“Not very rowdy for a hen party.”
“Oh yeah?” You watch the way his tongue darts out between his lips to wet them, “You're not exactly the life of the party yourself, are you?”
“Just wanna go home,” He rolled his eyes, “My friends turn into assholes when they’re drunk.”
“Mine can be assholes at any time.” You were already expecting texts in the morning trying to invite you on a blind date you didn’t even want to go on.
“Dya want me to call you a cab?” The guy held up his phone, “I can get you a separate one if you don’t wanna share. It ain’t safe to be out here alone.”
“Very considerate of you,” You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop your heart from doing a little flip, “I can take care of myself.”
“Sure looks like it,” He scoffed, “That why you’re gonna hide out here for the rest of the night?”
“Shut up,” You almost pouted, “I’ll go back in.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He smirked.
“What’s your name?” You asked as he slipped his phone back into his black jeans pocket.
“Bakugou.” He answered after pausing for a second, “What's yours?”
You mumble your name and can’t stop your cheeks from scalding when he responds with a soft “Pretty.”
Standing in a comfortable silence between the handsome stranger you watched groups of people slowly leaving the club, some moving on to their next destination for the night and others trying to stop their friends from throwing up before they climbed into their designated cabs.
“Gonna take fuckin’ ages to catch a cab now, I hate this part of the city.” Bakugou groans, running his palm down the length of his face.
“You could go back in and party,” You shrugged, “I’m sure your friends are missing you.”
“Yeah? After you, sweetheart—” Bakugou made a mock chivalrous movement with his arm to invite you to go back inside first which you rejected. Moving back to stare into the sea of people with a small smile on your face, “Didn’t think so.”
You stood in a comfortable silence beside him for what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes. One of the first times in a long time that you felt yourself as you both listened to the rowdy cheers in the background.
“Do you ever just want to say fuck it and disappear?” You surprised yourself by speaking your thoughts out loud.
“Go somewhere where no one knows who the fuck you are or what the fuck you’re doin’?” Bakugou responded simply.
“Yeah.”
“All the time.” He murmurs.
“It just hurts when it seems like everyone else has their perfect little lives while you’re just waiting on the sidelines,” You sigh. Maybe it was easier offloading everything onto a random stranger, it wasn’t as though you had anyone else you could talk to, “It’s just lonely.”
“You don’t have to be lonely.” He replied as though it was the most simple answer.”
“It’s not that easy,” You shake your head.
“Who said it ain’t that easy?” Bakugou turned to face you, his frame towering over you as you looked up at him with wide eyes.
“Cause I’m always lonely.” You felt hot, pearly tears beginning to clump in your lash line as you thought about the nights you spent at home alone while all your friends were with their partners. The life that you’d always dreamed about, but never have. For once you just wanted someone to be there for you, with you, “It's just how it is.”
“You don’t have to be though, sweetheart.” He whispers.
“Yeah?” You murmurs, “Do you feel alone too?”
“Fuck,” He groans, leaning his forehead against yours as he stands with you for a moment, “C’mere.”
Bakugou took your hand in his as he walked you through the crowd of people outside the rowdy venue and down a dark dingy alley that was illuminated in fierce neon lights from the various clubs dotted along the high street. You followed behind him obediently as your heart danced against your ribcage, astounded by your daring behaviour. He could be a murderer or a psychopath for all you knew– just another stranger out looking for his next victim. But for some reason (maybe it was the liquid courage coursing through your veins) you felt safe with him.
He moves his hands to your hips as he pushed you back against the cool brick wall, slotting himself between your parted thighs as he looks down at you with crimson eyes. The scent of liquor was sharp on his breath as his lips hovered close to you, warmth fanning your face as he leaned to kiss you.
“No kissing,” You gasped as you tilted your head just in time to avoid his lips as he pressed a wet, scorching kiss against your jawline.
If he had an issue with it, he didn’t voice it. The only sound was a rough grunt rumbling from the back of his throat as his lips continued to pepper sloppy kisses along your neck. Your fingers swiftly carded through his messy hair, nails grazing his scalp as you tried to pull him closer. As though everything right now wasn’t enough, you needed more.
“Please,” You whine as you felt his teeth graze your pulse point, hips bucking as strong palms reached out to steady you. Keeping you still as he bit down on the supple skin hard, the sudden pain had you crying out for him as the ache blurred your vision. Or maybe it was the alcohol running through your system— warm lips suckling the fresh bite mark as you clench your thighs together in a feeble attempt to give your neglected clit some much-needed friction.
“Please, what?” He rasps against your neck, his tongue salving against the mark he’d left against your skin moments earlier.
This is the part where you should’ve stopped him. Making up an excuse about Tatami wondering where you are, or needing to get home and disappearing into the night. But you didn’t—
“Touch me,”
“You always beg random strange men to touch you, sweetheart?” He smirked, his hand reaching round to grab a handful of your ass, “Or am I just special?”
If only he knew how unlike you this really was, that no one had touched you so intimately in years. A thought that would’ve surely ruined the mood if Bakugou’s hand hadn’t slipped beneath your dress to cup your aching sex, the sensation had you gasping in surprise as the blonde smirked down at you.
“I’m just special, hah?” He answered his own question with a toothy grin, “Is that why your panties are dripping for me?”
You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this insatiable. Evenings spent at home with your toys felt nothing like the way his warm hands felt against your skin, uncaring that you were in a dirty alleyway as you found yourself grinding into his touch.
“Fuck,” You murmur, your head knocking against the cold brick as Bakugou presses the heel of his palm against your clit through the sheer fabric. A heat blazes through his touch and scorches you as you writhe against him, desperate to create a delicious friction as he smirks down at how salacious you look at this moment.
“You’re so fuckin’ wet, bet I’d slide right in.” He grunts, surprising himself at his blunt words. Blaming his audaciousness on the alcohol Sero and Denki had plied him with not long ago, the liquor flowing through his veins.
“Please,” It’s quite pathetic really, just how easily this man has turned you into this. You’d managed to go years without the touch of a man, and now you’d felt it for a moment you were unsure how you’d ever lived without it.
“Oh, fuck.” He chokes back a groan as he pulls your panties to the side, the skirt of your dress now shamelessly bunched around your waist as he notes the glossy strings of your essence that cling to the flimsy fabric of your panties, “This all for me?”
His fingers drag through your slick shamelessly, testing it on his fingers as he feels the heat radiating from your core. He spends little time circling your puffy clit before continuing lower, dipping one thick digit inside your tight hole. You wish at this moment that you’d worn slightly prettier panties than the plain black ones you wore right now, but if Bakugou had any issues with them he certainly didn’t seem to mind as he pumped his finger in and out of your core.
“Shit, you’re so sensitive.” He groans at the way your body responds to him, thrashing against him as he places more pressure on your clit.
“Please, Bakugou.” Your thighs quiver as he continues pumping his finger inside you, feeling the way your walls hungrily try to suck him in deeper, to take all he's got to give and more.
“Wish we weren’t in a dirty fuckin’ alley right now, princess. I’d have you sit on my face.” He groans, feeling the way your cunt clenches around him at his lewd words. You’d never wished something so bad in your life, tempted to tell him you didn’t mind if there was an audience if it meant having his lips wrapped around your clit.
“I don’t normally do this shit,” He groans, nuzzling your neck.
“Fuck strangers in alleys?” You tease as he gives you a playful smirk against your skin.
“Somethin’ like that.”
You groan as he adds another finger to join the first, stretching you open as your nails dig crescent-shaped moons into the base of his neck, leaving reddened indents against his skin as he growls from the slight twinge of pain. The sounds coming from your cunt are downright crude, echoing around the empty alley as he deliberately curls his fingers to press against the spongy spot inside you.
“Shit, you’re fuckin’ dripping.” Bakugou grunts, watching your creamy slick dribble down his fingers and settle into his palm, his thumb pressing sloppy circles against your needy clit as you shamelessly rock your hips into his touch. Greedily searching for the orgasm that he’s more than happy to give to you.
“Look at you,” He goads, “You’re so fuckin’ easy. This sloppy ‘nd I’ve barely even touched you. Is this all it takes, sweet girl?”
You don’t have the heart to tell him how long it's been since anyone touched you like this, that no matter how hard you try to replicate his touch after today, you’ll probably never feel anything like this again. It’s like he’s tempting you to say something, to give him a witty comeback. But you can’t, not when his fingers are stroking you in all the right places, stretching you out in preparation for what you know is soon to come. You spread your thighs further apart to give him more access, a movement that has a wide grin from ear to ear appearing on his face. Standing on shaky heels as he ensures you stay upright with a palm on your waist.
He knows when he’s found it, like a lost ship searching for the bright glow of a lighthouse to guide it home. Pushing his calloused digits against the same spot that he knows will have you coming undone.
“Right there, huh baby?” He coos, “Yeah, I know, I know. Such a pretty pussy.”
You must look debauched now, your tongue lolling out as you pant pathetically with your head knocking against the cold brick wall. Allowing Bakugou– a complete stranger– to do as he so pleases with you.
“Oi, you listening to me?” He growls, and you can’t even remember what he’s just said. So lost in your own bliss as he continues to press the same persistent circles against your clit, “Course you ain’t, so desperate to cum, hm?’
“Please, Bakugou.” You mumble, breaking off into a salacious moan as he increases his pace eagerly trying to push you over the edge. He’s watching intently as you writhe against him, dangerously close to your release as you pulse around his digits.
“Fuck,” He almost snarls, the sound sending shockwaves direct to your needy cunt as you feel yourself vaulting into your bliss.
His fingers don’t stop their ministrations, even as you're crying out for him and gushing all over them. He instead, increases his pace, determined to have you completely intoxicated on him before he's even begun.
“You’re so goddamn noisy, ain’tcha?” He scoffs, finally pulling his digits from your spent cunt with a crude squelch. Unabashedly holding them up to his lips as he tastes you on his tongue, groaning as though he's tasted the sweetest ambrosia as he cleans you off his skin.
“Please, Bakugou.” You slur, legs shaky from the intense orgasm he’d gifted you as he pulls his fingers from his mouth.
Bakugou’s fingers are quick to unfasten his belt, letting the heavy buckle hang as he dipped his thumbs into the hem of his boxers to pull them down along with his jeans. Letting the material settle around the curve of his ass, just enough to free his aching cock. The sight of it had your thighs quivering in anticipation, the bulging head an angry pink colour as it oozed pre from the slit. Dribbling down the underside as the veins that forked along his girth made him appear even bigger, the length of it drooped down from the sheer weight as you wondered how on earth he could keep something that size hidden beneath his jeans.
“S’big,” You murmur, biting down on your lower lip as your cunt throbs in anticipation. Even his balls look huge, thick and weighty as you watch him give himself a teasing pump. His wrist rolling as he smears pre along the length. Ready to ignore how damp and filthy the floor looks in favour of dropping to your knees to worship his cock as it deserves.
“Think you can still manage it though, sweetheart.” He grins, “I know that pretty pussy’s good for it.”
You’re almost disappointed when he pulls a condom out from his wallet in his back pocket, seemingly you’ve found the only man in the entire bar with a conscience as he rips the foil packet open with his teeth. Lifting one of your thighs up to press against his hip as his cock slips between your folds, the fat tip catching against your entrance as he sucks in a breath.
“Don’t do that,” Bakugou groans, “You’ll make me wanna fuck you raw.”
“Do it then.” You challenge, wondering whether he really is like all the sleazy men your friends end up with.
“Another time, baby.” He glowers back, pushing the tip of the condom against the head of his cock as he slides it down his length.
The first push against your tight entrance has the air stolen from your lungs, a dull ache from the stretch in your core as his thick cock slowly breaches your sex.
“Holy fuck,” He grunts, his fingers dipping into the fat of your thigh as he holds it against his hip, “You’re so tight.”
He smirks at how desperate you are to feel him inside you, trying to drop yourself down on his length as he gives a few, shallow thrusts. Your fingers dig into his skin to try and get him to give you more, rewarding you by thrusting all the way inside. One sharp rut is all it takes to have him sheathed inside you, your walls moulding to the shape of his cock as he takes a moment to cherish the sensation of you wrapped around him.
“Told you I’d slide right in, perfect fuckin’ pussy.” He groans, slowly pulling back as he glances down between you to watch his cock slide out of your warm heat before you take every inch again.
There’s not much you can do in this position except stand there and take what Bakugou’s got to give, his rough thrusts push you against the wall as he almost sweeps you off your feet. His messy pubes tickle your clit with every forward motion as your essence leaks from your needy cunt and dribbles down his heavy balls.
His scent is intoxicating, the saccharine tartness has you tugging him closer. Burying your nose into his neck to smell the mixture of cologne and his natural scent. It’s almost comforting as you cling to him a little tighter, trying to commit it to memory so you can cherish it when you inevitably end up alone after tonight.
“Oh, god.” You cling to his broad shoulders, holding him tight as he sets a brutal pace. The fabric of your dress catches against the rough brick behind you as he leaves a trail of kisses against your cheek.
The sensation is overwhelming, the pleasure rapidly building inside you as he continues thrusting into you with hard, sharp ruts of his hips. For once, the only thing you can think about is the white-hot pleasure coursing through you. The soothing ache from his cock stretching you open is almost cathartic as you let him use your body as he pleases, his rough hands groping at your exposed skin as he presses more scorching kisses against your jugular, sharp teeth nipping at your skin.
“Oh fuck, Bakugou.” You cry out, louder than intended as your toes curl from his harsh movement.
“Shit– You want us to get caught, sweetheart?” He groans, his palm reaching up to cover your mouth, “Can’t kiss you to shut’cha up, can I? So I’ll have to do this.”
And maybe it’s better this way, your lips warm against his palm as your lipstick smears against it. Otherwise, with the way he was looking down at you, you probably would’ve kissed him.
Your moans are muffled by Bakugou now, his pace unrelenting as he gives rough thrusts inside you. The lewd squelch vibrates around the empty alley and mingles with the loud thrum of bass that vibrates from inside the club. The loud bustle of voices only feet away as anyone could turn down and see you both in such a compromising position— not that it would be anything unusual. You certainly aren’t the first couple to fuck down this alley, if the empty condom wrappers and bottles are anything to go by, and you surely won’t be the last. But it’s been so unlike you to allow yourself to submit to your pleasure, to live a little.
“You still with me, pretty girl?” He groans, “Pussy feels so good. Can feel you clamping down around me.”
You whined against his palm, feeling the pleasure intensifying inside you as Bakugou continued his rough pace. Drunken patrons hollered boisterously as they left the bar causing him to shield your body with his broad back, taking his eyes off you to ensure they didn’t decide to come down the alleyway to interrupt you.
“Fuckin’ pricks.” Bakugou snarled under his breath as he stilled inside of you.
Your entire body felt as though it was on fire, hovering dangerously close to the edge of your climax as your cunt clenched around his thick cock. Causing Bakugou to suck a harsh breath through his teeth as he brought his attention back to you, the corner of his lip curling into a sly smirk.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I didn’t forget about you,” He groaned, languidly moving inside you, “Gonna make you cum so hard.”
“Please,” You mumbled, muffled by his hand as he began rolling his hips, the bulging tip of his cock catching against the spongy spot inside you with each pronounced thrust.
“Fuck,” Bakugou snarls, moving his hand from your mouth in favour of slipping it between your bodies to thumb at your clit. The sensation has your knees buckling as your weight drops, no longer able to hold yourself up. But he’s strong, keeping you pinned between his body and the wall as he keeps his unrelenting pace, “Come on, pretty girl. I know you’re close, can feel you choking me.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It’s embarrassing really, how one man— a stranger, can have you coming undone like this in public no less.
“So fuckin’ noisy, shit-” He grunts, his ruby gaze intense as he watches you come undone.
Bakugou steals your climax from you, his thumb is unrelenting against your clit as he feels your cunt clamp down around him. The loud cry that spills from your lips has him wincing as he hopes no one’s decided to look down the alley for a free show— something that would certainly make the front page this very morning. He eases you through your high, the white spots that dance across your vision make it feel like you’re seeing stars. A sea of constellations against your eyelids as you succumb to the pleasure.
“You look so pretty when you cum,” He groans, his face buried in the apex of your neck as he inhales deeply, committing your scent to memory as he cherishes the way your cunt clenches around his cock.
Bakugou pushes his fat cock inside you, as deep as he can go. Until his balls are snug against the swell of your ass as he feels the tremble of your cunt coming down from your high. His warm breath scorches your neck as he gives himself a moment's respite before picking up his pace once more, greedily using your body to chase his own release. His palm pushes your thigh up higher against his hip, changing the angle as the swollen tip of his cock finds what it was searching for. The euphoria already surging through your veins is enhanced by the attention from his cock knocking against the same spot inside you over, and over, and over.
“Think you can give me one more, sweet girl?” He rasps, watching your thick lashes flutter as tears blind your vision.
“I– can’t,” You manage to get out between broken breaths, unadulterated pleasure coursing through your veins.
“Yeah, you can.” He coos, his thumb persistent against your clit as he ruts into the same spot inside you, “C’mon, for me?”
The sensation building inside you is almost painful, still overwhelmed from your last intense climax the pleasure still bubbling to the surface as Bakugou is unrelenting. It’s too much, and yet not enough at the same time.
“Don’t hold back, sweetheart.” He groans, “Cum for me.”
Your body feels ungovernable as you succumb to the pleasure, a cry of his name tumbling from your lips that he doesn’t try to silence as he holds your quivering body. Preventing you from thrashing as he clings to you tightly, fingertips creating divots in your plush thigh.
“Oh fuck, there we go.” He snarls primally, nostrils flaring as he gives a few final shaky ruts of his hips, spilling his release inside the condom with a grunt as you both bask in the aftershocks of your release.
You’re certain if he let go of you now you’d collapse to the dirty floor, your legs no longer strong enough to support your weight as you cling to Bakugou. And he holds you back just as tight, dropping your sore thigh in favour of wrapping his arms around your waist as he remains buried inside your fluttering cunt.
He can still feel you spasming when he finally pulls out of you, sliding the condom off his spent cock as he shamelessly throws it onto the ground. Fixing your panties before pulling your dress back down around your thighs to hide your modesty before he moves to tuck his wet cock back inside his underwear and buttons his jeans.
You hadn’t expected him to hold you so tenderly, as though you were the world's most precious porcelain. But you both stand there for what feels like forever, basking in the afterglow as you sway side to side.
A large palm raised to cup your warm cheek, the calloused pad of his thumb brushing against the soft skin as he tilted your head to meet his gaze. Leaning forward as his eyes crossed to stare at your pouty lips, closing the distance slowly until you placed a palm on his chest.
“No kissing.” You repeated, turning your head as Bakugou pulled back, squinting at you.
“Still?” Bakugou grunts, “Why the no kissin’ bullshit?”
You couldn’t explain it to him, especially not after this. Wondering if it would be easier to make up a lie about your breath smelling or being nervous.
“I just can’t.” You sounded pathetic, internally wincing at the pitiful tone of your voice.
“Yeah, why?” He continued, “You got a boyfriend or somethin’?”
He actually looked hurt as he asked the question, his crimson gaze searching your eyes for any kind of deception as you shake your head no.
“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Husband?” Bakugou pushes as you shake your head again.
“No.”
“Then what’s the fuckin’ problem?” He spits, slightly more harshly than intended.
“You won’t like it,”
I don’t want to know when you die. You think to yourself.
“Like fuck I won’t.” He scoffed, “Fuckin’ dumbass.”
Bakugou caught you by surprise when he wrapped his palm around your neck, holding you so tenderly as he ducked his head forward. Catching you even more by surprise as he placed his chapped lips against yours, his tongue instantly slipping past your parted lips to delve deeper.
Fuck.
The first time you’ve actually felt something for someone this had to happen. The premonition played clearly behind your eyes as you felt Bakugou’s tongue mould against your own, a deep timber groan vibrating against your mouth as he lost himself in the kiss.
Of course, whatever higher power couldn’t just let you be happy for once, you had to see the fate in store for Bakugou Katsuki.
Pulling away from your lips as his tongue poked out to taste your lipgloss, the corner of his lips curled into a smug smirk as you stared up at him in complete horror. This wasn’t good—
You’d hoped that his death would be a peaceful one, dying a natural death surrounded by his loved ones at a ripe old age. But it was anything but, the terrifying vision now imprinted onto your memory. And you wished he never kissed you, not only so he wouldn’t die but so you wouldn’t have to see this vision every time you close your eyes.
With one kiss you’d sealed his fate.
“Fuck,” He mumbled, his chest heaving as he tried to regain his breath.
You’d convinced yourself that as long as you didn’t kiss him, it would be okay— but now you’d seen the future you knew nothing would be okay.
Humans are such selfish creatures.
“Yeah, fuck.” You groaned.
#bakugou x reader#bakugou smut#Katsuki Bakugou x reader#Katsuki Bakugou smut#bnha x reader#bnha smut#mha x reader#mha smut#Bakugo x reader#bakugou x you#Katsuki Bakugou x you#bnha x you#mha x you
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"Keep up."
“Keep up” he said, blowing out the cloud of smoke into her face and pushing the bong towards her.
She wiped the little bit of vodka that had spilled on her lips away with her hand and pointed to the bottle of soda behind him. “Chaser, please,” she pleaded, her voice hoarse and her throat burning.
“Finish the bowl first,” he held the tool over the bowl
She pressed her lips to the glass and started to pull. The smoke was thick and starting to yellow when he pulled the bowl and let her try to clear it - but her lungs weren’t big enough and she couldn’t help but cough, and cough, and gasp, and -
He pushed the soda bottle into her hands, and she managed a swallow before she was coughing again, hard, harder than before, seeing spots each time. Trying desperately to catch her breath, or some air, or some relief, until finally she managed a few raw lungfuls and slouched back into the chair.
“You said you could keep up,” he laughed.
She made a noise somewhere between a moan and a whine. That had been hours ago, at dinner at that upscale steakhouse, and she’d meant it about the moscow mules they’d been drinking - and about the vape pen outside, she had to admit.
But it was pride that made her say it about the edible in the uber, and about the detour to the dive bar downtown and the three shots there. The ride back was hazy but they’d definitely hit the pen and made the driver mad, she remembered laughing as he drove away.
They were at his house, and as they were standing at the door she’d kissed him. She remembered being in the kitchen, and him pouring her a mixed drink that tasted like candy and coffee. That she blamed on stubbornness, demanding he pour her just as much, and proving she was tough by hitting his pen.
But then she’d said - something - and now they were downstairs and she was proving she could go shot for shot and dab for dab and she couldn’t remember if her shirt being off was part of that deal or if she was just hot. How had she ended up sitting in his lap?
“Do you need a break?” he teased. He sounded like he was teasing. And she did need the break, needed fresh air and water and maybe to lie down for a while in the dark, but she couldn’t stop now. He was teasing her, she had to prove it.
She looked at him, the words taking too long to form. “Is it a shot or a dab?” she said, avoiding the question.
“You’re way behind, silly,” he chuckled. “There’s no way you catch up now.”
“What?” she twisted to face him. “Why? What am I at?”
He pointed to the table, to the other side, where there was a line of shots laid out. Four. The room was already spinning. There were pennies - nickels? Why were there coins? - between them, and one on each end.
She must’ve looked extra confused.
“Six dabs and four shots,” there was a slur in his voice as they shifted a little in the chair, and she leaned into it, into him. His arm was around her waist, she was so hot and she couldn’t move but that at least felt nice and his chest rumbled when he spoke. “I am, right now, six dabs and four shots ahead of you.”
Her heart was racing, she felt - not tired, but drifty. She tried to stand, he groped her ass at just the perfect time to weaken her knees and she collapsed back onto him. They were both laughing, then he looked down and kissed her, and she was grinding on his thigh as they made out like teenagers. She was reaching back for her bra when he stopped her.
“You said not until you proved you could keep up - or are you giving up?” he asked.
She remembered it as he said it. They’d been in the kitchen, he’d offered her an energy drink and had said it was ‘pretty intense’ and that he wouldn’t think less of her for not keeping up, and she’d told him that not only could she keep up but that she wouldn’t fuck him until he admitted it. He’d laughed and asked if that included his Friday night ritual, and she’d said it had - why did she keep agreeing to things like that? - and then he’d told her about the dabs downstairs and she’d gotten dizzy with excitement.
Now she was just dizzy. She relaxed into him and he groped her again, and she moaned a little despite herself. Feeling herself start to black out, she was reaching for the shot glasses and the suddenly -
- they’d moved, she was straddling his knee and he was holding the bong to her mouth, something was different but the only thing she could do was keep inhaling, even if her lungs were almost full. She twisted away from the glass but before she could exhale he clapped a hand on her face, covering her mouth, holding her nose, and she couldn’t do anything but writhe in his lap and struggle for air.
“Seven, six, five, four,” he was counting - why was he counting? She couldn’t breath, her lungs were burning and she felt like her chest would explode.
She looked up at him, pleading with her eyes as everything started to fuzz and dim, trying to hold on -
- and he pulled his hand away just a little, just long enough to blow out the cloud he’d made her hold, but before she could inhale the hand was back and now her starved lungs were screaming for air -
- for some reason, him laughing at her was hotter when she couldn’t breathe. “I like the way you arch your back,” he chuckled into her ear. “Going to show me more of that later?”
She nodded weakly, barely hearing him.
His hand moved away and she was gasping again, pulling forward as she filled her lungs over and over, desperately.
She looked up. Three shot glasses and four of the coins, piled over on the side. She couldn’t feel her face but there were only two shots left, she was catching up, and she couldn’t help but smile even as she steadied her breathing.
“What the fuuuck,” she slurred as she finished catching her breath. “What the fuck was that?”
He picked up a shot glass and her mind blanked - how was she supposed to take that shot when the room was moving so fast? - but then he raised it to his own lips and knocked it back.
“Do you not remember? You said if I made you hold it for just as long, it’d have to count for two.”
She shook her head and the room tilted with her. He coughed a little as he set the shot glass down in the pile with a clink, and slid two of the coins over to the pile. She stared at it for a moment before it clicked.
“Wait, what about the shot?” He laughed and she blushed and finished, “aah, what?”
“You really blacked out, huh?”
“Maybe a lil’ - a little bit,” she admitted. “It’s a lot. You’re a lot.”
“You don’t remember arguing about hypnosis?”
She shook her head. “Hypnosis is fake. And stupid.”
“We already - right. Well, deal was I take your shots for you and you try it. No harm, right?”
She rolled her eyes and reached for the next shot glass, pulling it toward her. He was saying something about it not being a good idea, and it was almost too heavy to lift, but she was determined to - prove him wrong? No - but she was determined to do it, and as soon as the glass hit her lips, even before she tasted the burn, she was gone again.
She opened her eyes, like in a dream.
He was talking and his words were like velvet in her ears. Convincing words, important words, the words didn’t matter as much as how they sounded, and they sounded like beautiful music, pulling her thoughts down into the melody.
And she was about to fully fall away when she heard that voice, telling her to keep up.
Far away, in her body, she felt - so much sensation - and then her body was getting heavier, and heavier, and she started to sway, and drift, and she was nearly falling, so heavy that no part of her could resist.
Then she heard his voice in her ear, and as he said the words it was easy for her to keep up.
And then his hungry mouth was on hers, but he was exhaling delicious smoke, and she breathed it in and it sent her reeling, she was barely holding on through the dizzy haze.
As she started to black out again, his voice was in her ear, reminding her she would always find a way to keep up.
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I Won't Lose You- ICLY 7.5
Warnings: Cheater POV, a lot of not nice things are said. Definitely something to think about if you are sensitive to that type of subject matter, cursing, some air of grand diosity,
Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader
Characters: Chris, Seungmin
A/N: So a lot of people have been wondering what Chan has been thinking... Welp... You get what you wish for... even though it ain't pretty. I wanted to punch him writing it. This is after Chris gets banned from the hospital room. Since it is following him and not the reader, I decided to give it a different name, with the annotation being 7.5. Happy anger management people!
ALL THE SKZ IRL ARE CINNAMON ROLLS THIS IS A FICTION- IT'S FAKE.
I Can't Lose you Masterlist-CLICK HERE
Stray Kids Masterlist-CLICK HERE
ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE.
ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.
BEFORE:
Han looked up at Bin, trying to will himself not to cry. The both of you are so sweet, so kind. He could see the weight on Bin’s shoulders, crushing him. He could see it in his head, Bin keeping everything bad from crashing on top of you, his arms outstretched, using his whole body as a shield. Han knew that if it meant keeping you safe, Bin would carry the world. That’s what separated Bin from Chris.
Both may be fond of you. Only one has ever put your safety over everything. Only one ever made you feel heard and seen. Only one ever made you laugh until you cried. Only one would take off work to take care of you when you’re sick. Only one made you understand that there is no priority above you. Only one would calm you with just a touch. Only one truly loves you with their heart and soul. That “only one” was in the bed with you right now.
Han watched, eventually just letting the tears fall as Bin held you saying, “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you, I’m sorry. I love you… I’m so sorry. Don’t leave me.”
That was the first time Changbin had ever let himself say it out loud, “I love you so much it hurts…I Can’t Lose You.”
NOW:
Chan’s POV:
I have never seen Y/N like that. A part of me wants to say that it was something that was a freak accident, that Soo and I were a freak accident. We weren’t. Y/N deserves to know that, to have it acknowledged. I want to scream that I regret it, that I want to take it all back, that I wanted to erase it all. That would be a lie.
You can’t regret something that you actually initiated. I don’t regret what I did. I wanted a release, I got a release. I wanted to feel exhilaration, I got it. What I am sorry for is getting caught. Of course I’d never say this out loud but, the truth is my marriage was a means to an end. She loves me, of course… and I love her… to an extent. I loved it when she would perk up when I came home, or be passed out on the couch, waiting for me to come home. In a lot of ways, Y/N is like a puppy. She would do all the tricks in the book to make me happy. If she was lucky, she’d get rewarded.
There is an even more fucked up part of me that is relieved that she knows. Sneaking around wasn’t the hard part. The hard part was making it look like I was with the boys when I wasn’t. Y/N is so close to the boys it was a pain in the ass, all it would’ve taken was one text and right there my cover would be blown. I know that I can come back from this, though. Soo never held a candle to my wife. I just told Soo whatever she wanted to hear. I made it worth it for her to do what she wanted… what we wanted, who am I kidding, I wanted it.
Everything is still so raw, she’s not really going to leave. I know she told me when we started dating, but I know that I can prove myself to her. She is the type to really believe that everyone is good inherently. It was something that I used to every advantage, if I’m honest. I’m obviously better than Changbin. I make more, I am more level headed… obviously… I am willing to do whatever I need to make sure I get what I want. How could she want anyone else? That’s like trading in a top of the line Ferrari for a beat up 1999 Taurus. Plus, she always gives people second chances. This is all one giant hiccup.
While the rest of the boys and I filed into the elevator, I heard her voice. She was so scared, I couldn’t hear exactly what she was saying, it was so meek, fragile… weak. That’s really the only downside to her. She is weak. Her emotions get the better of her always. Given, what happened would make anyone go crazy, but at the end of the day, she can’t keep control over her emotions. She is the type of person to read a room and follow the tone of the room. She isn’t a trendsetter, a leader. The only reason why the boys are the way that they are is because she is hurt. Something about their “white knight” complexes. Honestly I could puke just thinking about it. While they were playing games, painting, or just practicing on vocal technique, I was ensuring their continued employment. That will never change about her though. She folds under pressure. Like a skeleton with no spine. Sometimes it was exhausting, others amusing; that’s the biggest tell as to her coming back. She has no spine without me. She needs me… just like everyone else.
Knowing the woman Y/N is I knew that for her to be this way, she had to hurt so badly. It ripped my heart out, seeing her finding comfort in another person, almost as much as knowing that I was the one to do all of it to her. It made me look so bad, to everyone. Hearing Changbin call out to Han that she was slipping, I’ve never heard a voice like that before. I’ve never heard screams like hers. I should’ve never tested her, calling our child “it”. She has been trying so hard, comforting me non-stop, that it’ll happen when it’s meant to happen, that she’ll be on top of it. To let me know in the cutest way. Nothing’s more cute than finding out on your third anniversary that your family is going to get bigger.
It hurt me saying that, calling them “it”, that was exactly why I knew it would get the job done. I needed to peel her away from Changbin without touching her, but it worked a little too well. Why was I punsihing her, punishing them? I think the answer to that is simple. I don’t want the attention on me. Which is counterintuitive, given my natural tendencies. Right now, in this moment, I don’t want to be acknowledged. The way that they see me right now threatens everything I worked for, and it looks like everyone chose their side to stand on. Me giving them more of a chance to hate me is only going to make my job down the road harder.
I think some of the boys could tell. I am royally pissed. I got caught, which for one is annoying, but for all of them to take her side? That was infuriating. I spent so long honing them, training them. I always protected them, supported them. It is infuriating to have people that you did everything for to just dismiss you. Why were’nt they comforting me? That child was mine too. Why am I not getting any condolences? Hell, when we had no money to eat, I wouldn’t eat just so the 8 could have something… anything. The days I went to bed starving, the nights I worked around the clock to give them the opportunities that they now take advantage of.
This is how they repay me? Screaming at me left and right, Changbin threatening to kill me, even Felix turned his back. I just fucked a side piece… I mean I know what that caused is on me. That I was responsible for what happened to our child. If I could feel like I was attached I am sure I would’ve been a wreck. Something that was mine being taken away does that to a person like me. One thing is for sure, I truly never wanted to hurt her. I never wanted to look bad, hurting her would do that, and so I made sure to tread lightly, my go to’s being, “I know Baby, I’m sorry,” and “What time is it? Shit Baby I’m so sorry.”
That didn’t stop me to wanting to have my own little thing. My own little secret. It was a different type of high that I didn’t know I craved… needed. It’s no doubt that Soo did feel better in bed. I could tell she knew what she was doing. Y/N had no experience before me and that did a wonder for my corruption kink, but after that… It was like pulling teeth. I had to teach her everything, so every time we we’d sleep together I had to act like I liked the fact that she’s so innocent. Which I do, but I also don’t want to have to have a health class every time I wanted to have sex. Soo wasn’t like that. She knew what she was doing. Hmmm… maybe I’ll clean up the house and finish what we started.
In the elevator, no one wanted to say anything. I didn’t want to say anything either, I didn’t want to make anything worse than it is. It’s a unique empty feeling. Y/N would look at me like I hung the moon itself. The feelings that she gave me, I was seen, heard, and loved. Constantly reassured. I can’t live without that validation. The minute I walked out of the elevator I didn’t even look back, all I said was “Take care of her. Do what I didn’t, she needs you. Call me if you need anything.” That made me feel a little better, giving them an order, felt like the last say in a way.
It was Seungmin’s voice that cut through, I heard him stop the elevator with is arm, “That was never a question, we’ve always taken care of her, don’t wait up. We all know you’re not used to being the one waiting for someone. Wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.” My lip upticked at his comment. Mostly because I didn’t imagine Seungmin to have balls like that and another was that I didn’t have a rebuttal. I always have a rebuttal. He’s right though, I always kept her waiting, not the other way around. It always made me feel important, that she needed me to go to bed well, that she craved to feel me.Yet now I find myself willing to wait an eternity if it meant being able to hold her one more time, to have her cook for me, then to cuddle up and pass out together, all of that shit I see as a waste of time. To think I hate needing someone yet here I am, needing her.
I kept walking after I heard the elevator close. By the time I made it to the car I was trying my hardest not to collapse. My wife was in that hospital, fighting for her life, after I caused her to miscarry, a baby we have been wanting since our first anniversary. I am enraged. I’ve never felt so out of control and it’s driving me crazy. I am always in control. That is the only way that I function. It is something that I pride myself on. Now everything is out of place everyone stepped out of line. All I have to do is get them back in their rightful place… Then we can move on.
I’ve never imagined anyone else as the mother of my children, she is giving enough to focus on them while I work on my career. It’s always been Y/N. That thought was the one that made me slam my door a little too hard. She’s going to come back, she’ll be back. She will have my child, we will be happy… When everyone is in their place.
I tried to distract myself as I went home. It felt like an out of body experience, seeing myself in the rearview mirror, hating the person I saw, just for the sole fact of getting caught. It was such a rookie move. I should’ve known that there was something going on when everyone said they were out for the night. No matter how loud I made the radio, I heard noting but her screams. I wanted to blame someone, get the pain as far away from me as possible, trying to make me out to be the good one. I’m not. The only things I’m good at are music and acting. I could still see the little glances she’d give me, convincing herself that I am just busy. She is so trusting, it honestly baffles me. Just another sign that she’s weak.
I wanted to make it her fault. She shouldn’t be so naive. Seeing Soo disappearing at the same time I am? The way that I couldn’t really look her in the eye for most of last month? She should’ve told me sooner. Maybe if she did that our child would still be here. That’s not even including how I’ve had to keep Soo on a shorter leash than anyone, her face gives so much away. The first time she hung out with us I had to take her to another room and tell her to get it together because she almost started crying in front of Y/N. I know that people will say that’s not fair, What part about anything that I’ve done screamed ‘oh this is reasonable’? None. It’s been so long I’ve been doing this that I don’t even remember how all of this started. Ah I remember now.
I guess a year ago it started off with me venting to Soo. I didn’t know why we weren’t conceiving. We timed out the cycles, we did everything correctly, but still it wasn’t happening. If I told the boys I know I would look weaker for it and I didn’t want Y/N to be even more stressed about getting pregnant. Soo validated my feelings and told me that she was always there for me. That was the first mistake. I should’ve gone to Y/N. After a while it went from talking when I was aggravated to talking daily.
I looked forward to those calls so badly. It felt like a little interaction that was all mine. Making her laugh made me feel like when I used to get Y/N to laugh. The butterflies came soon after that, seeing that I got a form of attention I didn’t realize I was missing. About two months ago she told me that she was seeing me as “not just my friends husband”. That made my heart leap in my chest. I should’ve avoided her like the plague after that, I should’ve gone to my wife, but not only would that make her mad, it’d also make sneaking around harder. I did something worse.
“Good to know it’s not one sided.” I felt the words drip out of my mouth, even recounting it makes me a little excited. I turn onto my street and I heard Soo’s voice in my head, “Chris...” I knew it was wrong, I fucking knew it was, “I know. I know it’s wrong.” Then hearing her say, “What if she finds out?” with a giggle. “We’ll be discreet.”
We met up that night. I wanted to scrub myself head to toe, till my skin bled, making sure her scent was gone completely. It was so thrilling, so different, and I hated that I liked it. I liked it so much I knew I had to do it again, and soon too. Every time I came home Y/N was either passed out on the couch or in our bed. Notes left on the counter full of how much she loves me. I still remember the first one from that same night, “I know how forgetful you get in the studio, made extra of your favorite, it’s in the fridge, missed you-XOXO Y/N/N.” I looked at her form on the couch, clearly trying to stay up to see me. I ran to the bathroom to vomit, it made me anxious. I knew that I was playing with a downgraded version of my wife. If anything went wrong, I’d be left with the dollar store version of Y/N. For some reason that anxiety turned to exhiliration. The longer it went on for, the more comfortable I got of having my cake and eating it too.
She never did anything wrong. I asked for space, she gave me space. I asked for anything and she would do it in a heartbeat. She always wanted me happy and stress free. After a while I made it okay in my head by saying that she wants me to be happy and having both make me happy so it’s okay. I know better, I always knew better.
I always got up too early, that way I didn’t afford myself time to see the person that I love in one of my favorite ways to see her, happy and sleeping. The last few days I gave myself that. Feeling the guilt eat me alive, rightfully so. I felt guilty for putting all of this on the line, putting her on the line, not for her, but what losing her means to me. I’d practice my apology while she slept, “I’m so sorry, I love you.”
If it wasn’t for the boys being there, I could’ve had a better handle on her. I could’ve reiterated that practiced apology over and over. I could’ve kept the control I spent years making, which is really the most fucked up thing about all of this. I was in training for almost 10 fucking years, I finally get the perfect group of people who followed perfectly without question. Then Changbin goes ahead and goes soft for Y/N. She’s gorgeous, I know, she’s funny, and kind, but she was also making Bin step out of line a bit. Every time she was around, he would try to take point, try to be the center of attention. At first I thought that it was Bin trying to be cute. When he asked me how he could ask her out a few months after this started, I felt my stomach drop. She threatened everything I worked for. So I spewed some bullshit to make him question himself a bit more while I figured out what to do.
Some wouldn’t see this as a problem. I am not some. I only let my members have center because I permitted it. If I threw myself in the spotlight always, it would look off. So I made myself into the best, most supportive leader, the leader of the 4th generation, how can you get bigger than that? The perfect wife… Y/N. It was perfect, if I had her, not only would I have more control over Bin, but I’d also have the perfect little family one day. That was when I decided to ask her out after getting her separated enough from Bin. Which wasn’t too hard. There were some unseen snags but overall it was easy. Keeping her is going to be just as easy. When she’s healed. Then everyone will fall back in line.
I pull in to my driveway and go to the door. Once I opened up the door, Bins clothes covered in blood were there, taunting me. I walked further into the house, I looked on the mantle, the picture from our wedding hung there. I remember that day, that gorgeous day. I threw it away. That woman with the most infectious smiles, the woman who’d hold me so close during horror movies. I found myself grabbing that picture, I dragged my finger over her face. I heard her voice, “I love you”, and I collapsed on the floor, right next to the clothes, sobbing, clutching the photo. She was so perfect.
I got so mad at that point. I shouldn’t be crying, SHE ISN’T LEAVING ME. I can fix her just like I fixed everything else around me. My perfect wife, My perfect group, MINE.
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#bangchan#bang chan#bang chan imagines#bang chan x reader#Seungmin#kim seungmin#stray kids imagine#stray kids#stray kids angst#skz fanfic#skz imagines#skz#skz angst#skz scenarios#skz x you#stray kids x reader#I wanna punch him#try this shit on me I dare you#narcissistic personality disorder
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Miscellaneous Valeria Garza Hc’s (including some x fem!reader content)
To get the creative juices flowing bc this Val draft I’m writing is going to be the death of me
Valeria hates men with a fiery passion. Years of having been a woman in the military only showed her how vile they are, now she refuses to put up with their shit.
Fully believes that if you want something done right, you have a woman do it.
Definitely treats women better than men, she has empathy for them that she just doesn’t feel for men.
Lesbian fs fs
With that, I don’t actually think her and Alejandro had a romance type thing, they definitely had some form of bond but I genuinely can’t see her with a man so I think it was more platonic
But tbh I think w the passionate hatred Alejandro immediately had for her, no hesitation whatsoever, they had a rivalry
And I think they’re character foils for each other. So similar (yet so different) that all they can see in each other is the things they hate about themselves.
(The way this has been in my drafts for like forever and now that season three is out they’re calling them two sides of the same coin)
Despite her hatred of men, she still has some issues with internalized misogyny and femininity
She’s just so used to having to prove herself in a male dominated field that it’s hard to let go of those things
Won’t wear dresses, have long nails (although that could just go w the whole wlw thing 🤭), or drink fruity drinks
But she refuses to judge other girls for those things, her internal misogyny stays geared toward herself and the standards she holds herself up to.
A lot of it just translates into her being more of a masc lesbian
Anyways
Big spoon, always. No debate. Will make empty threats if you try to fight her on it.
“I will suffocate you with a pillow if you don’t stop,”
Pulls you around by the loops in your jeans, shirt collar, necklace, basically whatever she can pull on to move you places she will
Bites
TLDR: she has cuteness aggression to the max and shows her love in the strangest ways
I think she’s somewhat tall, like 5’9 or 5’10
Muscular af, I just know that turtleneck is hiding a ripped ass body
Abt her time in the military and her current feelings on it
I think when she was in the military, she got up to the lieutenant rank. Especially with the way Alejandro said she led the ambush on the son of La Araña.
She either still has her dog tags hidden somewhere because she couldn’t bring herself to get rid of them, or she threw them as far as she could in a fit of rage
If you’re in the military, she fs tries to convince you to leave and join her
“I could treat you better than any of these men”
And she means it
She means everything she says, even when she’s joking she’s dead serious.
Especially when she tells you she’d kill for you
When she allows herself to love someone, she doesn’t half ass it. She loves with passion.
You know that you are so loved when you’re with her because she makes it abundantly clear.
Overall just a rlly good partner, I’m actually in love w her.
#valeria x reader#valeria garza#valeria garza x reader#valeria garza cod#valeria cod#valeria x fem!reader#valeria garza x fem!reader#call of duty headcanons#call of duty fanfic#call of duty valeria#call of duty x reader
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FEMALE BG3 COMPANIONS TURN ONS/KINKS +18
MALE BG3 COMPANIONS
NON-COMPANIONS/NON-ORIGIN COMPANIONS
SHADOWHEART
HARD DOM
ISN’T THIS OBVIOUS i feel like she's so into being the dominant one regardless of whether she's on top or bottom. like dominatrix vibes for real. and she can be really mean too, like step on u/spit on u/whip u type of mean 😹😹 (me next) something about u being at her command is just sooo hot. she loves that you’ll do anything for her
WAXPLAY
i think she'd want this done to u AND her. like she's the type to pour it down ur chest or neck while she's riding u. i can't decide if she'd like to use colorful candles or all black candles 🤔 dark purple would be sexy actually. she likes how u flinch when it touches u. BUT she also likes how it feels on herself (that's probably how she gets off seeing it happen to u cuz she knows how good it feels 🤤). might tease u by pouring it on herself and making u watch
LEATHER/LATEX
yeah like full BDSM gear and all that lol. i think she would like the full body latex suits i dont actually know what they're called (shocker i know) but think velma in the one live action scooby doo movie LMAO
DOUBLE PENETRATION
i feel like she would be into either being tag-teamed herself or tag-teaming u with a strap lol. but also it doesn't have to involve another person it could be u riding a toy while also sucking off her strap and vice versa. i think if ur the one getting fucked she'd want another dom person to join because she gets off on seeing u be submissive
BODY WORSHIP
she would 100% want u to treat her like the princess she is. praise her body/figure and tell her how much u love it. leave kisses all over, maybe fuck in front of a mirror so u can actually show her how much u love her body. she’d probably do the same for u just a bit more nasty LMAO like the shit she says will be intense
LAE'ZEL
PETPLAY
OKAY this one i had dragonborns in mind lol but also it could work for anybody. like u guys can't tell me she wouldn't be into collaring/leashing u and having u do as she asks. will call u things like "pet" or "pup"
BRAT TAMING
now i know everybody thinks that SHE would be the one taming U but i honestly think it's the other way around OOP. like i think she likes when someone takes charge and pushes her around.... like she's just dying for somebody to come by and force her to take down that hard exterior of hers. u just have to prove urself to her first is all
BONDAGE
once she trusts u she will want u to tie her up. maybe would be into shibari? like i mean intense bondage. full body. she'll call u out on some pussy shit if u hold back and go easy on her 😹 she definitely wants it to hurt too and to be able to see marks/bruises left behind from it after
SIZE DIFFERENCE
if anyone is a size queen it's lae'zel LMAO. but this also plays into the whole brat taming/proving urself thing like if ur big and physically intimidating then she's more likely to respect u. she just likes the pain from trying to make u fit too though. and the accomplished feeling afterwards lol
PRAISE
i see her as somebody who is lowkey insecure. like she needs constant validation otherwise she feels like she's not doing good enough. so let her hear u !!!! let her know how good she's doing and how good she feels. tell her that she's beautiful and that ur proud of her. literally anything just don't be dead silent she will get up and walk away 💀
KARLACH
PEGGING
she wears the strap ALMOST exclusively. sometimes she'll make exceptions but most of the time she just prefers to be the one doing the fucking. this goes for AMAB and AFAB obviously. she loves the way it feels to be able to make u feel good and fuck u to the point of cumming. i don't really think it's a control thing she just likes to please u (and she usually has too much energy to bottom lol)
SIZE DIFFERENCE
LOVVVESSSS how big she is compared to u. like it makes her feel so strong and capable. particularly interested in how big her hands are compared to urs and also how easy it is to balance u on her thigh. she'll want to pick u up and fuck u, it's one of her favorite positions. she just loves how easy it is to manhandle u in general
MOMMY DOM
i think this would start out as a joke and then snowball into an actual kink of hers lol. she's usually a soft dom when it comes to this. as in lots of praise and saying stuff like "cum for momma baby". i don't really see her being a hard dom (maybe on special occasions?)
LINGERIE
if u dress up in lingerie for her she will actually LOSE IT. like it makes u look so dainty and sexy at the same time. she loves the ones that have the thigh garters because she likes to play with them. i think she really likes the feeling of the lace but also adores the fluffy ones too
EDGING
she likes this done to the both of u. i feel like she'll try to prolong the sex for as long as she can or maybe tease u/get u horny in public and leave u like that for soooo long, that way when u guys finally fuck it's like EXPLOSIVE from being so pent up lmao. BUT she also likes when u do it to her too. i can see this being especially exciting for her because she's so raring to go all the time 😹 it's like a fun little challenge
MALE BG3 COMPANIONS
NON-COMPANIONS/NON-ORIGIN COMPANIONS
#bg3#baldurs gate 3#karlach x reader#karlach headcanons#shadowheart#shadowheart x reader#lae’zel#lae’zel x reader#shadowheart headcanons#lae’zel headcanons#my headcanons
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Hopelessly Devoted - Chapter 3
-About 5.5k. No real warnings in this chapter!
Charlie is more or less freaking out at the moment. She received news a week ago that Esther would be coming back down to assist with the Hotel and would be bringing a guest. Now today is the day of that visit and she feels like nothing is ready. Everything in the hotel feels out of place and she doesn’t know how to fix it.
“Charlie, you need to relax,” Vaggie says, coming up to her and placing her hands on Charlie’s shoulders. Charlie grabs at her own hair in frustration.
“I can’t, Vaggie! Esther didn’t come into the hotel last time and I just want it to be perfect! And she said she’s bringing someone else! What if it’s Sera? What if it’s Michael?! WHAT IF IT'S GOD?!”
“Charlie! She’s not bringing God to our hotel! And I doubt she’d bring Michael here! He’s probably the last person who’d ever willingly down here.”
Charlie groans and slumps into Vaggies hold. “What am I gonna dooooooo-“
“Do about what?”
“Ah!” Charlie jumps out of Vaggie’s hold and looks to the entrance where her dad is standing. His eyebrows furrow in concern.
“You doing alright, apple pie? You look uhhh kinda tired,” he inquires.
“Dad! Hi! I could really use your help right now! Esther is coming down any minute now and he’s bringing someone and-“
“Esther!” Her dad yells, his hands now gripping her arms. “She’s coming here?! Today?! Now?!!”
“Ooooh I see I forgot to mention that,” Charlie replies sheepishly, laughing awkwardly to herself. “I knew I was forgetting something.”
Lucifer’s hands let go of her to grip his own hair, knowing his hat off his head. He starts pacing as he freaks out.
“Oh hell she’s coming here. I haven’t prepared anything. Nothing has felt right! I haven’t even had the time to fix up my wings. My WINGS!”
He yells, and his wings pop out behind him in the largest form Charlie’s seen from him in months, knocking over a painting as he does so. “Satan’s smelly asscrack! They’re a mess! How the fuck am I supposed to impress her with this disaster?!”
“I don’t think Uncle Satan would appreciate that comment,” Charlie mumbles, trying to defuse the situation.
“He’s an ugly sweaty fuck! He can handle a few insults in his name!” Lucifer yells back. He pauses, groans, and rubs at his temples. “Sorry, apple pie. I’m just nervous and didn’t mean to yell. Satan definitely deserves it though.”
“Aren’t the two of you supposed to be twins or something?” Vaggie asks, approaching the two of them. “Isn’t that why people confuse you two so often?”
“Aha, no, you know all those pictures of a red dude with horns that people think is me? That’s Satan. He’s just such a damn menace that of course when shit goes sideways, they think he’s the actual devil which then confuses people and- you know what? It’s a whole thing. The point is, he smells like shit half the time I see him and I think he does it on purpose.”
“Dad, I think we’re off track again. Why are you freaking out about your wings? And can you please make them smaller before you break anything else?” Charlie asks.
Sheepishly, Lucifer does just that, letting them get smaller until they’re at a more appropriate size indoors. He snaps his fingers to fix the things he knocked over and continues pacing as he fiddles with his hands.
How does one explain to their daughter that he has an inside joke of sorts with his soulmate and now as part of proving himself to her again, he has to behave like a duck during mating season and impress her.
Shit, had Esther even meant that literally? Knowing her humor, she probably did, though she definitely expected more than just that as an apology. He wasn’t entirely sure how to apologize either. He’d told her everything the week before. Of course, just because he explained and apologized doesn’t mean she had to forgive him. And he knew one apology wouldn’t make up for several millennia apart, due to his own actions, but he really didn’t know what else to say or even do to make it up to her.
It just stressed him out more that he couldn’t think of anything to do about this. He couldn’t lose her again, not when he finally had a second chance. He’d been struggling to sleep for the past week just thinking about her. Her beautiful dark blue eyes, her wavy black hair with the streaks of white, the rich blue on the underside of her beautiful wings. Lucifer feels his heart beat a little faster at the thought of her bright smile aimed at him, eyes crinkled at the end in pure joy and those cheek marks on the corner of her mouth so high they almost look like they’re reaching her eyes.
“It’s nothing Char,” he replies to his daughter. “I just want to look my best when she arrives. And you said she’s bringing a gues- Who the fuck is she bringing?”
“We don’t know, sir. We can only assume it’s another angel,” Vaggie answers for her, likely stopping Charlie from panicking again.
“Oh fuck me! It’s probably Michael! It’s definitely Michael,” he replies, hands in his hair again as his eyes start to turn red and his voice sounds almost layered. “She talked about him so much last time, it probably is him. That fucker probably did mess with her head. She said she doesn’t love him but someone with Stockholm Syndrome probably wouldn’t admit they have it!”
“Okay!” Charlie claps loudly. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here! Vaggie’s right. We need to relax and think things through. I doubt she’d bring him of all people here. So let’s just focus on one thing at a time! Like cleaning up the lobby!”
Lucifer looks at his daughter with a blank stare and snaps his finger. A burst of gold sparks from his hand and sweeps around the room, cleaning up any dust and straightening out paintings and chairs alike as it goes.
“Can I go back to panicking now?”
“No!” Charlie yells, grabbing her dad and leading him towards the elevators. “We’re going to go get ourselves looking presentable!”
Vaggie watches in amusement but also concern as her girlfriend drags her whining father out of the lobby. Looking around the room, he definitely did a good job of cleaning up and saved them a good amount of time. Especially after the disaster left in the wake of Charlie’s own panicking.
She’s thankful that her and Charlie’s relationship isn’t as complicated as Lucifer’s and Esther’s. She feels bad for them. Knowing what she knows now, it all seemed like a “right person, wrong time” situation. And who knows how long those two even actually spent together before Lucifer had fallen.
The books she read aren’t exactly clear on how long between Lucifer’s creation and the creation of Eden took place. Lucifer is older than Earth, that much she knows, but how much older remains a mystery to everyone except the man himself, and she isn’t sure if asking is appropriate.
And to an immortal being who’s been around for as long as he has and still looks like a relatively young adult, how does time pass for him? Sinners remain the age they died at, but was Lucifer like Adam, Lilith, and Eve? Was he also created as an adult? Were the older angels created as children and then raised into adulthood before the aging stopped? Looking at a picture of Lucifer and Charlie, Lucifer looks the same age now as he did then. Now that Charlie’s older, he looks like he could’ve been a teenage father.
Had Lucifer and Esther had thousands of years between their creation and the Earth’s creation to spend together, or had it just been a few short years together before their forced separation? It doesn’t really matter, at the end of the day. They seemed to be the first and most functional of three pairs of soulmates ever made.
Like Esther had said the day before. The first attempt to recreate them ended in disaster with Adam and Lilith, Eve… No one in heaven had seen Eve in thousands of years and Adam never cared to talk about her besides when insulting her. The only pair that seemed to want to be together was Lucifer and Esther, and even they weren’t actually together because of the miscommunication between them that caused eons of loneliness for the two of them.
No wonder God never made more soulmates. The more Vaggie thinks about it, the more her head starts to hurt. She walks around the lobby instead, making sure nothing was out of place even with Lucifer’s magic.
A knock on the door alerted her to a guest. Vaggie paused, looking over to the bar where Husk had paused in his own polishing, and stared back at her.
“Try to keep the drinks to a minimum, please,” she says to him. He rolls his eyes but continues wiping the bar as she walks towards the door.
Before she can reach the door, a swirl of shadows lifts from the ground, and she curses to herself as she sees Alastor appear from it. She’s practically sprinting and he shifts his eyes to look at her, smile stretched impossibly wide, as he grips the door and pulls it open.
”Welcome, dear guests, to the Hazbin Hotel,” he says, greeting the two at the door.
There is Esther, smiling softly in greeting, with a taller man beside her. His skin is ghostly white like Lucifer’s, but his hair is black like Esther’s. It’s a bit longer than Lucifer’s, falling more into his face and curling around his neck. His suit is impeccable, white pants, black coat, and gray waistcoat. Along the shoulders of his coat are black pads lined in silver with intricate designs. His eyes are dark gray, bordering on blue closer to the pupils.
He looks like royalty, carries himself with an air of importance, but his eyes look soft and his expression is easygoing. It takes Vaggie a few moments before his appearance clicks in her mind.
This is Azrael, the Archangel of Death, the Virtue of Patience.
He’s rarely seen in any of the spheres of Heaven. He, like Raphael, spends most of his time on Earth. When he does return to Heaven, he passes through the spheres and says his hellos, but typically spends most of his time on Primum Mobile with the other higher ranking angels that aren’t ruling over a sphere like Sera.
If he spends any time in another sphere, it’s likely the first sphere where the majority of the winners reside, or in the third sphere where he was created, Venus, just as Lucifer and Esther were.
Well, Azrael is certainly better than Michael in terms of who would stress Lucifer out the most, but Vaggie isn’t holding out much hope. Esther had mentioned that Azrael was likely to visit, but she hadn’t expected it to be so soon. Especially since it’s only her second visit.
At least she could say that of all the virtues or archangels to bring, the Virtue of Patience would probably be the best to deal with all the chaos the people of this hotel were capable of causing.
Both of their wings were tucked away and out of sight, which was probably for the best both to get them through the door and so they wouldn’t take up too much space. They likely planned on spending a good amount of time there, if that was the case.
Vaggie bows to both of them, nervous at the sight of one of Heaven’s strongest angels. Azrael doesn’t fight, might as well be a pacifist, but that doesn’t mean he’s incapable. The Seven Capital Virtues all have more power than most beings besides God himself, and even they aren’t the top of the hierarchy the way that the Seven Deadly Sins were down here in Hell.
“Welcome! It’s an honor for you to visit us,” Vaggie says. She may not live in Heaven anymore, or agree with everything they do, but even she knows the Virtues and the Archangel of Death deserved her utmost respect. Esther visiting had been a shock, especially since Vaggie had never seen her so she didn’t know her importance.
“Please, no need for all of that,” Azrael replies. His voice is light, almost airy, but strong. It’s so different from Lucifer’s rich and smooth tone of voice. Lucifer, despite his awkwardness around his daughter, talks in a voice that is loud and boisterous when he wants it to be, like he’s demanding attention. Azrael’s voice sounds more like a soft breeze, calming and comforting.
She supposes when it’s your job to console the souls of the dead and guide them towards their final resting place, a comforting tone is probably for the best.
“I assume you know who I am?” Azrael asks, taking a step into the hotel after gesturing for Esther to enter first. Vaggie nods, not sure what else to say. “I don’t get to say this often, but it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He holds his hand out for her to shake, and she takes it. His grip is just as soft as his voice. “It’s nice to meet you too, sir.”
“None of that. Azrael is just fine,” he replies.
Behind them, Esther is greeting Husk and Alastor. Vaggie wants to warn Esther that staying away from Alastor is for the best, especially considering Lucifer’s hatred for the other man, but there’s really no nice way to say that.
Lucifer’s not going to be happy when he sees both a brother of his that he hasn’t seen in eons suddenly here, and Alastor around the love of his life.
Today’s gonna be a shitty day in hell, that’s for sure.
“Well, where is our lovely host? I’ve been dying to meet my little niece,” Azrael says, looking around the lobby. Esther chuckles behind him.
“The puns will never stop with you, will they?” Esther asks him, a knowing smirk on her lips.
“Not until my last breath,” he teases back. It’s then that Vaggie realizes he’s been making references to death. It’s not something she expected, but knowing how Lucifer acts, she can’t say she’s entirely surprised that the weird jokes run in the family. “Now, my niece, please?”
“Right, yeah, she actually just went upstairs with her dad a few minutes ago, so they should be down shortly,” Vaggie’s replies. She wants to offer to go get them, but the idea of leaving them alone with Alastor sounds like a bad idea. Especially knowing that Husk is likely too drunk even this early in the afternoon to do anything about it.
Something in Azrael’s eyes flash at the mention of Lucifer, and his smile tightens just a bit. It’s not a good sign in Vaggie’s eyes.
“Samael is here as well? How splendid, I’ve missed the little one,” Azrael says back. Vaggie sees Esther roll her eyes at the nickname. It appears Lucifer’s height is a running joke. “My workload increased drastically when my fellow angel of death fell. Of course there are others but Samael was always a joy to work with.”
“You know he prefers to be called Lucifer,” Esther scolds him. Azrael pats her gently. They don’t look alike, besides the black hair, but they act almost like siblings.
The way Lucifer and Esther were created, to be practically married, and the fact that they’ve known each other for thousands of years, Vaggie wouldn’t be surprised if the other Virtues did see her as a sister.
Azrael hums but stays silent on the subject. Instead he chooses to move around the lobby. He goes to the bar to greet a stressed looking Husk as Esther approaches her.
“It’s Vaggie, correct?” She asks and Vaggie nods. “It’s nice to see you again, dear. I apologize for not mentioning Azrael’s visit. He likes surprises and once he has it in his head, there’s no stopping him.”
“Yes ma’am. It was definitely surprising, but I think that’s because I tend to forget that Charlie’s dad was also a high ranking angel.”
“Technically, he still is,” Esther replies. She smiles down at Vaggie, her eyes warm despite the dark cool blue color they have. “He may not be allowed in Heaven anymore, nor is he a Virtue as he once was, but he’s still one of the oldest and strongest of the angels.”
“How interesting,” Alastor says, approaching them. “One would think we’d see more of this strength you speak of.”
“If that was the case, you’d be wiped from existence with the way you like pissing him off, asshole,” Vaggie replies to him. She pauses for a moment to look back at Esther and apologize for her language, but the angel doesn’t look upset at all.
“Well, I suppose some good came from our king’s reclusive nature then!”
Alastor’s eye twitches but he says nothing more, thankfully.
Even after the battle against Adam, Vaggie knows that was nowhere near Lucifer’s full strength. The man was once a Virtue, an Archangel who answered directly to God, and a Seraphim, the highest rank of the angels. He wasn’t called God’s favorite angel for nothing. With all the power Lucifer was given upon his creation, being called the favorite almost felt like an understatement.
Not that there weren’t angels stronger than Lucifer, but Vaggie read about the fall. Lucifer wasn’t just tossed out of the gates like Charlie’s story makes it seem. Lucifer fought, and he fought hard. Michael may have led the charge against him, and been the one to throw him and Lilith towards hell, but it took several angels, mostly Seraphim, to finally weaken him.
Lucifer truly was a terrifying being, even before becoming the first sin.
“I hope you know you have nothing to worry about, dear,” Esther says to her as Alastor walks away. “If he’s anything like he was before, he’s never cared much for power.”
That much is obvious. Alastor didn’t call him a recluse for nothing. Lucifer has made it clear many times that he doesn’t care for sinners or want to truly rule them. The only times he shows off his powers is when he wants to show off for Charlie or do something for her.
“Now, tell me about the hotel, dear. Any new arrivals?”
Vaggie sits with her on the couches as she discusses the details. She’d prefer Charlie to be here, but she won’t keep her waiting either.
They haven’t had any new guests. Half the sinners were scared another attack would come from Heaven and wanted to avoid it. A few cannibals wanted to but really only for the promise of more angels attacking so they could eat more angels. Rosie had taken those few back quickly enough.
Vaggie wasn’t going to mention the cannibals to her, though she did mention their dilemma.
“I see, so an announcement should be made then, to confirm the end of these exterminations,” Esther decides.
That would require either Vox or Katie Killjoy, neither of which Vaggie wanted to deal with or felt Esther should have to.
Before she can respond, the elevator dings. Before she turns, she notices Azrael’s attention now off of Husk and turning towards the elevator as well.
“Okay, we’re ready to get this plan done!” Charlie says as she exits the elevators! Lucifer is behind her, messing with his clothes and patting himself down to make sure nothing is out of place.
“Uhh, Charlie?” Vaggie says, loudly enough for Charlie to hear her. Charlie looks to her, catches sight of Esther, and her eyes go wide.
“Oh shit she’s here already!”
“Where?!” Lucifer calls from behind her, his wings once more popping up. He doesn’t make them as large as last time, but they definitely look a bit better compared to minutes before. They puff up behind him, shaking a bit like a rattle snake’s tail, though clearly more from anxiety than warning.
Vaggie’s eyes shift to look at Esther, who’s covered her mouth a bit and looked away from the display, though based on the way her cheeks are raised, she’s trying to hide a smile.
“Well isn’t this a marvelous display?” a soft voice says. Vaggie turns to her other side where Azrael is standing now beside her, a smile on his face just as before. “Wonderful display of wings, brother.”
“A-Azrael? What are you doing here?” Lucifer shuffles closer to the door of the now closed elevator.
“I do believe Esther mentioned my desire for a visit. I simply couldn’t pass up the chance when she mentioned her plans to return so soon. It’s not often I have a moment to myself after all. But enough of that, this must be my niece, Charlotte, correct?”
“Yes! Hi! I’m Charlie! Um- Uncle?”
Azrael chuckles at Charlie’s stammering and approaches them. It’s at that moment that Lucifer moves forward, eyes narrowed and wings spread high and wide to cover Charlie behind him.
“What are you doing here?” Lucifer repeats, his tone much harsher now compared to his panicked tone before. Esther moves forward now, stepping between Lucifer and Azrael calmly.
She steps closer to Lucifer and grabs one of his hands. “Listen to him first, please. Don’t be rash.”
“Don’t be- You want me to believe one of my brothers just suddenly wants to visit?! Out of the goodness of his heart?!”
“Lucifer-“
“It’s fine, dear,” Azrael says, cutting Esther off. Lucifer’s eyes narrow further at the term of endearment. “He has every right to be suspicious. Our siblings, myself included, have let this go on for far too long right under our noses. And after the last time he saw us, it’s only fair he should be worried.”
Lucifer looks at Azrael with suspicion as he continues.
“Worry not, dear brother, I have no ill will. My intentions were solely to express my apologies for not being aware of this massacre of souls.”
Lucifer’s wings lower a bit when Esther’s hand tightens on his own. He looks at her briefly before looking back at Azrael and rolling his shoulders, allowing his wings to fully disappear again. Esther sighs in relief in front of him and gives him a comforting smile before moving completely out of the way, giving them the full view of Azrael.
It’s Charlie who looks between the three of them before coughing and offering them a seat. Both men nod and Charlie guides them back to the couches where Vaggie is still sitting.
“Thank you, my dear. It truly is wonderful to finally be able to meet you. I wish it were under better circumstances but I suppose there’s no better time than the present,” Azrael says to Charlie. She lights up a bit as she sits beside Vaggie, and motions for him to sit across from her. Esther sits beside him on the couch, and Lucifer looks conflicted before taking a seat beside his daughter, his scowl clear and directed at his brother. “I’m sure you’re aware, but I am Azrael, one of your father’s older brothers. You may call me uncle if you’d like!”
Lucifer’s scowl deepens but says nothing as Charlie squeals in excitement and bursts with questions towards the older man. Vaggie is grateful that Azrael just happens to be the Virtue of Patience, because she isn’t sure any of the other Seven, especially Michael, would’ve lasted as long as him or answered as many questions.
“Babe, slow down. How about we talk about the hotel,” Vaggie suggests. Charlie takes a deep breath before rushing to go get her poster presentation that she’d apparently made especially for this.
She goes into detail about how she understands the number of sinners is greater than the number of winners which is why redemption would help even out the numbers and keep Hell’s population more steady. Azrael and Esther nod along as she speaks, taking in all of the information she presents to them.
“My biggest concern is that so far, we’ve only redeemed one person, and we had to watch him die for that to happen. Does that mean every sinner has to die and just hope they’ll be redeemed?”
“That’s hard to say,” Azrael replies. “Little is known about this, or that redemption was even possible. It shouldn’t be a surprise though. Father always says there is time in one’s life to repent for their ways.”
Charlie nods, happy that someone agrees.
“However,” Azrael continues, “it’s hard to say exactly in the afterlife. There’s a reason I never realized what was going on. I am fine tuned to the lives of living souls, and it is my job to guide them towards their afterlife, whether that be Heaven or Hell. Once they pass either gate, my connection to that soul is lost. They are not meant to die again in their afterlife. They are meant to remain where they are, whether that be punishment in Hell for their sins, or reward for their good behavior in Heaven.”
“But we can change that! We can give sinners a chance to repent in their afterlife,” Charlie replies. Azrael nods, but his face grows a bit more serious.
”I will be honest with you, dear child. This is new territory for all of us. We have yet to see if the souls of the dead can receive a retrial that does not require a second death. But if those from Heaven can fall,” Azrael says, his eyes shifting briefly to Lucifer beside Charlie, “then I have no doubt those from Hell should be able to ascend. I ask that you remain patient as we all navigate through this new discovery.”
Charlie nods along and Azrael smiles brightly at her. He stands, patting down his clothes to remove any wrinkles and offers his hand to Charlie.
”Now! I would love to hear more of your plans to entice sinners to the idea of redemption and a tour of this lovely establishment of yours! Let’s go, I believe your father needs a break from my presence and I would love to hear more about you without his glare on my head,” Azrael announces, already walking towards the elevator with Charlie who’d taken his hand. Vaggie follows after them, confused and a bit entertained by the man’s behavior.
“Now hold on a minute,” Lucifer begins to say, before he feels a hand on his shoulder. He looks over his shoulder at Esther who is smiling at him, and nearly forgets his worries. “Esther, I don’t know how I feel about this.”
”Do you believe I’d bring anyone here that would harm your daughter?” She asks in return. Lucifer pouts a bit but shakes his head. “He’s been very excited about this trip to meet her. The other Seven have wanted to visit as well but Azrael convinced them not to overwhelm you.”
“I think I would prefer Ramiel. Or Raphael. Or Uriel- Or, really anyone but Michael,” Lucifer replies. “Ramiel definitely would be preferred though.”
“Funny you should say that. Uriel and Cassiel send their regards, by the way. They say they love and miss you, and that they will be sure to judge you themselves should I choose to forgive you.” Esther laughs when Lucifer throws his head back and groans. “Ramiel managed to convince them not to, though Michael… Well you know how Michael is. He is hopeful, though he has his concerns.”
“Michael can shove his concerns up his own ass,” Lucifer mumbles to himself, though he smiles finally when Esther laughs a bit at his words. She moves her hand down his arm until it stops around his forearm just below his elbow. He instinctively curls his arm and moves his other to hold her hand on his arm.
“How about you give me your own tour?” She asks him, changing the subject. “I didn’t get to see the hotel last time I was here.”
Lucifer nods and guides her through the hotel for his own tour while his daughter shows his brother around. He’s still wary of it all, but he knows Esther is right. She wouldn’t bring anyone that would hurt them, and Azrael is the least likely, besides Raphael who’s dedicated his life to saving lives, to ever start a fight. Had it been Michael, Lucifer isn’t sure if he could’ve been stopped from attacking him on the spot. He at least has much fonder memories of Azrael.
He guides Esther through the hotel, showing off some of the different rooms such as the parlor, kitchen, or the more recreational areas he added himself simply because he could upon the hotel’s reconstruction. He puffs his chest in pride as she looks on, impressed by the hotel’s amenities.
He vaguely motions towards Alastor’s radio tower, not keen on taking her there, and she doesn’t question his reasoning, thankfully. She seemed to have caught onto his distaste.
Instead, towards the end of their tour, he leads her towards his own workshop. Not his room, he knows she won’t appreciate that level of forwardness, but he knows his new growing collection of rubber ducks will amuse her.
It’s not something he’d typically show off to anyone, and he’s sure under normal circumstances this isn’t something you’d show to someone you were interested in dating, but Esther wasn’t just anyone. This was something so much more than dating.
Part of him wondered, after Hell’s creation, if maybe they were meant to be separated. If humans were allowed to choose their partner, why couldn’t he? It had bugged him for so long. Part of it was what led to Charlie’s creation if he was being honest. But then he’d think of Esther, of her beauty and kindness, of the warmth he felt just when her eyes were on him, and he thought being bound to someone like her was the greatest gift his father ever gave him. He doesn’t regret Charlie, not in the slightest, even if he wishes Charlie’s mother could’ve been Esther, but sometimes he thinks his greatest punishment wasn’t his fall, it was the loss of his other half.
He’d give up everything if it meant another chance with her.
He leads her into his workshop, grinning proudly at the wonder in his eyes at the sight of all his rubber ducks.
She moves further into the room as she lets go of his arm, rushing towards the ducks in the rooms and grabbing at a few.
“Lucifer, what is all of this?” she asks as she chuckles, holding a rubber duck in her hands to inspect its design.
“My rubber duck collection,” he says, laughing to himself as he picks one up. “This isn’t even half of it.”
“Where are the rest?”
“In my manor,” he responds. He sits at his desk and watches her inspect another duck. “I think I made at least one a day for years.”
”That… doesn’t sound very healthy,” Esther says, lowering the duck in her hand and approaching him.
”No, I don’t think it was,” he responded, a melancholic smile on his face. “But they were something that comforted me when I felt like everything else was falling apart. Lilith left, can’t say it was without warning. She was getting tired of my moping and there was really nothing either of us could do about it. The friendship was already falling apart after Charlie’s birth. We tried to get along, we’re still friends, I think, but she didn’t want my hatred for Hell to affect Charlie. Charlie and I weren’t always close because of it. And for a long time, I felt more alone than ever. So I started making these to take my mind off things, and it helped.”
Esther is silent as she kneels in front of him, a hand on his knee in comfort.
She looks at him with those beautiful dark blue eyes, hair falling into them, and he reaches out to move her hand behind her ear.
”Why ducks?” She asks, voice just above a whisper.
”They reminded me of you,” he replies, pressing his forehead against hers. “They were something we created together. I used to create these beautiful projections of them for Charlie when she was a little girl and she loved them. They felt like a little piece of you here with me.”
Esther’s hand that isn’t on his knee moves to his hair, moving through the short hairs on the back of his neck.
“I’ve never stopped thinking about you. I’ll admit I wanted to sometimes. I thought maybe it’d hurt less if I just erased the memory of you, but then I’d think of your smile and everything hurt a little less. I’d think of the times we spent together, of how blissful everything felt with you by my side, and I couldn’t forget you. And then Charlie was born and I wanted her to have a piece of that happiness.”
He closes his eyes as his hands comb through her hair, enjoying the feeling of her’s in his own.
”You truly are something special, Lucifer Morningstar,” Esther says to him. He chuckles lightly and lifts his head to place a kiss on her forehead.
“Only because of you, Esther Eveningstar,” he replies, lips still pressed against her skin.
He never wants to be apart from her again.
————————————————————————
Apologies for any typos. My sleep schedule this week has been lacking to say the least.
Another character introduced! Learning about Azrael was fun for this. When I read he was from the “third heaven” I panicked a bit because it didn’t seem to fit with Dante’s spheres of paradise, but then I remembered that he and Lucifer(Samael) are angels of death, so having them all from the same sphere felt fitting! I was originally going to have Ramiel be the first to visit, as the Virtue of Kindness, but decided on Azrael instead because I thought Patience would be the best for Lucifer to be reintroduced to.
Anyways, at this point I feel like I can’t post a chapter unless I include a drawing at the end. This time I I decided I wanted to draw an idea for Lucifer’s look when he was still the Virtue of Humility. The Story of Hell shows him in a robe and still with his hat. I’ve seen people say his eyes were blue before his fall, but as his name means “the shining one” I feel like gold is more fitting. I also headcanon that his halo didn’t take the shape of a snake until after his fall, with the apple being added because of his actions, and as he took on a more demonic form, his appearance shifted as well. His eyes shifted to red, and when in his demonic form, his irises shift back to gold, but now with red sclera.
I’m not entirely happy with this drawing but, I didn’t want to hold off on posting the chapter so here it is!
Taglist: @dreamcatcher62 @art3misa635 @cimadreamer
#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer magne#lucifer morningstar#hazbin hotel#hazbin lucifer#lucifer x reader#hazbin hotel lucifer reader#lucifer morningstar hazbin hotel#lucifer x oc#hazbin hotel lucifer x oc
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𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ Unfortunately, Yours
↳ Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader
Episode 1:-
↳ ||Masterlist||Taglist Form||next chapter(two)||
Synopsis: It is when the birth right is snatched from your hands that your eyes truly ever open—especially when it’s always been there, right in your grasp. The Throne was yours, that was the truth promised and yet- yet your fate lay sealed with a certain Gojo. With an arranged marriage set in plan, alongs sets the plan of murder—within a wife who wants the throne and a husband who wants nothing but power, but suffers with them the present and the future of other two—especially when the lies of the past start surfacing.
— Word count: 3.9k
— A/n: ahhhh I have so many nerves lmao because this is the first chapter and I don’t wanna ruin it at all lol. And I wanna keep everything so subtle yk? But hope you guys like this!
— Warnings: Asshole Satoru; Asshole reader; mentions of adultery; slight objectification(?); Fem Bodied! Reader; usage of feminine terms; author thinks she can write💀 ps: I’ve never seen Christian weddings (or whatever I’ve written idk lol) so bare with me; typos
Hands that were trained, calloused once with bruises, prepared to be painted with blood now sat idle—a diamond ring in the finger.
Fate- the red string- two ends.
About 8 billion people walked the surface of earth—it was said, heard, stated, passed—The Greek god Zeus split each one of us into halves, punished to roam the earth and find our other half—the soulmate. Fatalism stated that everything was predestined- so it must be true, the concept of it.
Marriage—sacred, pure.
The day was clear as ever in your eyes—your father had entered the room, a solemn look on his face, a ring in hand; the entire month you had watched as the Gojos became a usual Tomorrow; you had watched as your sisters giggled at the premonition of your marriage; you had watched as the tables shifted and you had watched, and watched and watched.
Eyes numb, heart aching and mind a mess, you watched for that was all you could do now.
It was rushed, the whole process of it—a month ago your wedding planned and a month later you were gone. You didn’t want the wedding, you were sure Satoru Gojo didn’t either—“He’s so in love with you,” from your cousins deluded you—“I’m so lucky to have you,” from his mother.
Mind filled with thoughts of a man you’d only meet at the night of your wedding.
No amount of convincing could’ve been for you to utter a yes—but a definitive “You will do it,” from your father did wonders.
“You’ll be alright,” a whisper—your mother’s, soft, harsh.
“You have to be alright,” a demand—your father’s, careful, adamant.
“Promise me you’ll be alright,” a thought—your sister’s, empty, or so you dared to think.
And that was true, in a lonesome bind, you thought a lot.
You thought when your sister braided your hair, pretty, elegant—nothing you’d ever found yourself to be defined as.
You thought while your mother and grandmother, aunts and maids—they giggled, old wives’ tales falling off chastised lips like honey.
You thought when you found your father’s eyes hiding—nervous, you’d noted but you only thought.
And you thought still when the morning arrived, you sister kneeling beside you—eyes focused, narrowed, fingers working fast to smoothen the white.
Perfect the white.
Perfect your impure white—the dirty kind.
And finally, alone with your sister, you spoke.
“You must be glad,”
A silence met you, heavy.
“Don’t be shy about it, not anymore,”
A sigh— she got up slow, eyes focused still on your white gown—“you look gorgeous,” a mumble you heard.
You found yourself staring at her curls—when did she curl those you wondered, but then she’d answer that you didn’t care and perhaps, you didn’t.
Not usually.
“We’re sisters Aki,” you pestered, “you can tell me ya know?” You winked—a smirk, a tease—all to prove your point.
“The wedding is to begin in an hour now then, be prepared,”
“Don’t change topics. Tell me you’re happy about it, about all this,”
Another sigh—a glare and a huff, “Has father stuffed lies so deep your throat that you’re begging to hear them now?”
Again, silence.
Father—
Your eye twitched—nose puffed and eyes flared at your form in the mirror—you did you look gorgeous, or at least, different. A good different, arguably.
“Alright,” she mumbled quietly then, “c’mere—” her hands beckoned you close, her own navy blue contrasting to your pure white—ironic, you mused.
“What,” face scrunched, you let out—causing your sister to chuckle, “At least smile at your own wedding y/n,”
A scoff—“I’ll cry if I damn want to—and no, not for the dramatics,” a chuckle, this time, mutual.
“I’ll miss you,” you heard her whisper against you, entrapped in an embrace you stood, stiff—your eyes lay blank.
“Was it…my—”
“It’s not to chastise you,”
“It’s no less than that,”
“Endure it,”
A tear, quick, rolled down your cheek—wiped off all too quickly by your own sister—for you were to look perfect tonight.
Perfect for your perfect husband.
“Find your happiness there,” she whispered against your shoulder—you sobbed, “Why is he sending me away?”
Cruel. Cruel. Cruel.
“He sent us all away- even mother,” her hands patted your back- the touch felt foreign—“Not me,” your voice rasped, “I was different, I was better, I was the best he had,” her hands tensed around you—“I don’t know,” she confessed, “but promise me, you’ll be happy there,”
You nodded- empty.
“He’s going to be a fool in love,” her voice adorned, his mother- sharp- “So fortunate to get someone like you in my house, such a sweet pretty thing you are,” you smiled in accordance- hands clenched.
It was for her sake, you believed, the Gojo family worked in her shadow— a finger lifted meant everyone had to stand, a finger pressed and silence—in some way or the other, she stood to be your admiration. To hold power was to be nothing however to call power, now that, you admired.
It was in the way she was subtle but oh so glorified—Kana Gojo, perhaps the only woman or human you’d dared to look upto.
You smiled as she’d walked you around—parading shops through shops, looking for what she deemed the perfect dress—perfect, she wanted it to be—perfect not for her son but perfect in every sense of it.
-
A gift placed in your hand- bribe—“Aren’t you the sweetest Hm?” A smile, vaunted- his father, a careful spendthrift in every sense of the word.
You smiled, nodded and chuckled—“only learned from the best,” your eyes zoom over to your mother—never learned anything from her, you didn’t, and yet—formalities and a certain charm, you graced them evidently.
The head of the house, at least on paper—he didn’t hold much prowess with the profits but then, Gojos barely needed any more profit for the empire was built well and well enough to not crash. He did, however, hold his hands high and wide—welcoming, warm; everything his wife was not.
Not yin to her yang but the epitomised silver to her gold — Ginji Gojo, perhaps the only man to accustom himself to his wife, the only man you never truly could understand, along his son, of course.
You grinned as he lead you, hand held in his own—eyes searching for the perfect diamond to adorn not your finger but your marriage.
-
Shy glances and shyer hello-s he muttered, it was cute—you supposed, in the way a letter found is way in your hands—“Read it when you’re alone please,”—his cousin brother, innocent.
‘Hello,’ it began—cut off—‘Dear Y/n,’—cut off—‘assume I said something cool,’ you chuckled, the rest, a memory nestled deep in your mind.
He was young, 9–someone you hoped to inspire—Megumi—he didn’t know much, or anything at all, a subtle age of nine after all. But he knew enough.
Not enough to strike competition but smart enough to be called his successor; he was a smart kid you’d mused, a polite greet everytime you two met, a sweeter letter handed everytime.
Twice he cut off the beginning every time and deliberate you’d found it be—cuter still. And he lead you still, hand holding onto yours as he helped you decide on the flavour of the cake.
The girl, you watched from the corner of your eyes, chuckled, a hand reaching out to slap her father’s hand away—he chuckled, smiled, conversed—something and everything you never had.
A tear rolled down your cheek, salty—“Crying already?” The voice was gruff, your father’s.
“Father,” you muttered, hands reaching upto wipe the tear away quick—“Don’t,” he muttered, “Tears are useful.”
You could only nod.
The man stood beside you, taller by a decent inch or two—hands stuffed in his pocket and a bow tie tight around his neck; the man was slender— a ghost of the figure he used to be, could’ve been. A potential wasted, he called himself—a potential wasted, you too.
You watched him as he moved around you, hefty eyes felt heavy, scanning your form—“You look fine,” a compliment he’d deem it—perhaps it was, “Didn’t know white was your colour.”
It wasn’t.
Did he know anything about you? At all? No.
“Suppose it is, today onwards,” he smiled, you frowned, “That’s my girl.”
Another tear rolled quick, then another and they kept rolling, you stood blank.
“No,” you scowled defiantly—his hands working quick—scowl, mirroring yours as he wiped the tears—“When I said tears, I didn’t mean these many. You cannot possibly be this dramatic.”
An empty grin.
“Dramatic?” Voice pitched, brows raised, heart shattering you stared at him—“I am being dramatic?” Loud enough you were to have people raise the awareness that the bride was moody- or so they’d gossip and so you’d let them.
His eyes narrowed—a sign, quite usually telling you to quieten down—not today, “Why are you doing this?” You finally asked, shoulders relieved, heart heavier still—afraid the answer might me the truth you’ve fed yourself.
“Is this some- some-” you paused, a breath caught, eyes cast down—“punishment? Did I do something wrong?”
And in that moment, perhaps you were nothing more than a little girl—perhaps in that moment you wanted nothing more than your father’s reassurance—perhaps things could’ve been better.
But they weren’t—glory of fate itself.
“Don’t create a fucking scene,”
Had hearts really been made of glass, your father would’ve heard yours break—not once but a million times in that second. Again and again and again.
A noise—static.
“Yes sir,” you muttered, eyes dancing along his hands—you shuddered—he twisted his own.
-
His hands were soft as they held yours, he lead you slow, your father did.
The white veil that you’d spent hours to decide upon, the one you would never care about—it swept beside you, gasps escaping the lips of many as you walked out.
And there, there your eyes met his.
Poised he stood, white hair slicked back—nothing like those superficial memories his mother had told about, nothing like the tabloids you’d seen. This man, the one on your altar—that was Satoru Gojo.
Not the Toru’ you’d heard of, not the Heir of Gojos you’d kept your eyes upon, not the stubborn and hardheaded Satoru-san his maids had warned you about, not anything you’d known.
This was Satoru Gojo, your husband to be.
You hadn’t assumed your wedding to be a fairytale—in all honesty, you hadn’t assumed anything at all.
A prison you’d deemed it on the first day and perhaps that was all it was—but something, just something in you cried all too much when Satoru didn’t slip so much as a smile towards you.
Don’t get me wrong, he’d grinned and smirked all night- teased by his friends—congratulated by everyone—he did show joy, in some meaning of the word.
Not to you- but I suppose a win that was too—after all, a marriage is built on the truths right?
Eyes moist, a tear he did let go off—superficial it was, you knew it, but a hero Satoru Gojo would be deemed the next day in the magazines his family would pay good money to.
Yours was never meant to be that perfect wedding, not at the core of it—you knew that from day one of the sequenced wedding but then—just something, someone in you cried a little too. Just someone broke inside when you realised it wouldn’t be your husband who cried the moment he set his eyes on his bride—it wouldn’t be you telling those cute stories about your wedding day.
It wouldn’t be you—it was normal you’d heard, for grooms to be overwhelmed in there weddings- the thought of spending a forever with his bride, the supposed memories flooding their mind—but it wouldn’t be for you. He stood there with hands behind him, eyes awaiting you presence still.
A smile he held—empty as you joined him—eyes were very telling you r father had preached, never once had you found him to be wrong.
His hands felt cold as you held them—cold like your father’s, colder still somehow was his presence. And your realised, heart — to what you had thought to be a void — breaking as you realised that the marriage was a cage to him as much as you. Neither happy—he wasn’t happy with your presence.
Pathetic. But again, did it truly matter?
The wedding had begun— officiated, soon your “I do”s would slip, the wedding couldn’t be stopped now, not ever.
And in that moment your eyes flickered to your own mother—she stood regal.
Embroidery she’d fought into you, cooking and baking, sewing a skill she’d made you own too—pity she couldn’t teach you controlling your emotions—pity your father was your influence.
Your eyes managed to flicker onto him—saintly, your brain mused—your heart couldn’t help but agree. And those saintly features held an ugly heart you told yourself, solace to a lonesome mind.
“Satoru, do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect Y/N, forsaking all others, and holding only unto her forevermore?”
When he took a moment to answer with a blank gaze, you could feel tiny pricks being sent straight to your heart. Just a mere glance at his stolid mien was enough for you to believe that he was going to call off the wedding and run away—mayhaps you wanted that, mayhaps, you didn’t.
What else could you expect?
He clearly didn’t want this, understandable was the fact. It wouldn’t surprise you if he took a step back and announced that he couldn’t go on in making an oath to offer the rest of his life with you. That he would rather get out of this hell hole and be somewhere else than to proclaim a love that was being forced out of him.
“I do,” he professed, despite the inner turmoil that plagued his head.
You sighed—soft.
“Y/n, do you promise to love, honour and cherish and protect Satoru, forsaking all others, and holding only unto her forevermore?”
Your eyes were quick—a glance here and there and everywhere—the pause was heavy; you watched your father’s nod of encouragement—your mother’s sharp eyes—his mother’s smile, fake- his father’s sip of champagne—your sister’s eyes’ were hazy; his best friend tipsy.
You couldn’t say no—“I do,”
“Bride and Groom, you have heard the words of love and marriage, have exchanged your vows and made your promises, and celebrated your union with the giving and receiving of rings. It is at this time that I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant declared, “you may now kiss the bride.”
Your eyes widened behind your veil- your first- the breath hitched as Satoru removed your veil—crystal seemed his eyes, crystal clear was his distaste. He was tall—comical in fact—you tip toed slight, he leaned in a bit—the kiss was warm, chill, foreign. His hand rested upon your cheek, a stroke—a pull, brief.
Your eyes watched as he pulled away, a new smile on his lips—an actor he could’ve proven to be.
A million thoughts clouded you and him—known to only the two of you—marriage worked quick in that sense you supposed, mother and you sister weer perhaps right. But when all was said and done—the marriage was officiated.
And your eyes met then—a thought passed between you and your husband—stuck together—Unfortunately, Yours.
Hair slicked, ivory, elegant.
For a man who was yours even when he wasn’t—you supposed he was good.
Gojo Satoru swept across the room—a smile on his face, gentle; gentler was the rhythm he walked at. Here and there, he conversed, after all, a man of his charm he was- taking after none but his father.
Idle gossip danced along his ears while he giggled with women—politics fell off his lips as he sipped on the champagne—he teased and played with children too, laughing and joking with them—Gojo Satoru smiled to all but his wife-to-be. She sat there, quiet, unmoving, unrelenting—she lay still.
“It’s the fifth time you’ve stared at her in the last 3 minutes,” a glass in hand—a black suit adorned, Suguru waltzed beside him—a sly grin on his face, “I know you’re married but that’s really desperate, even for you,”
“Shut up,” Satoru muttered, grinning wide at the new set of guests—hand motioning the waiters to attended to it.
Suguru chuckled again, “Your dad really didn’t help out today either huh?”
“Old geezer’s getting drunk,” voice, plain—monotonous, hands clenched at his sides —begging to run through his hair—to ruin it all.
“How was she?”
“Boring,”
Suguru’s eyes zoomed on to the specific waitress—limping—he sighed, “Your mother was worried sick and you’re having affairs already?,” he began, hands reaching up to fix the shirt, “And today is your wedding today—have some etiquette,”
Eyes rolled—the same dialogue slipped off his mouth—“You’re becoming my mother—and she isn’t random; as is I’ll get her fired now,” he grinned this time around, “but not anymore, I’ve already got another woman to fuck around with,” a hand—sharp—landed on his head.
“Respect her,” the raven haired boy muttered, eyes focused and cast down, “She’s your wife today onwards—not just some woman you can fuck whenever you want,”
Satoru scowled, hands rubbing the back of his head, the spot where Suguru struck, “That’s all she means,”
“Don’t tempt me to make her a widow before she’s even married Satoru,” a grin, a huge one Suguru masked—words deadly balanced.
“Treat her well Satoru,”
“You marry her then,”
“Suck it up and smile,”
“Fuck you,”
“I will,”—a grin, a chuckle and that was that. A hand patted Satoru on the back—“Treat her well,” Suguru muttered again, both their eyes cast onto you—where a smile rested on both their lips, only one was genuine. Your eyes found tracing their oath to their spot too, black and white—they seemed a beautiful set—your eyes cast to your own gown and your sister’s. White and navy blue—all the same.
A couple and another, a pair of four.
Suguru let his eyes cast down to his watch—about time for the dance—“Satoru,” his voice was smooth, “it’s time for your dance,”
He hummed—“Her father, or I suppose mine too now—he wanted her first dance,” Suguru raised his brows, “and you let him? What happened ‘I don’t share’” A small smirk played on the younger male’s lips.
“I don’t share what’s mine—not all that-” another strike, harder.
-
Inhale, exhale- again.
You hands shook, and ears ringed—you were married. The statement related in your mind for the 5th time since.
Married. Tied down.
“Entertain me with the first dance m’lady?” Your eyes narrowed—sharp—“Father?”
Beside you stood you father indeed, an aura different—an aura that had become his past.
He smiled, kind—your confusion only grew—“It’s time sweetheart,” Your teeth clenched; sweetheart?
You nodded still—be his good girl—his hand held yours; yours, his.
The music was slow- none that you recognised, you needn’t, you’d want to forget the moment already. The applause for you was blurry, everything around you was too. Eyes didn’t bother running off to your mother, nor your husband—they never did around your father.
And in the moment, you could’ve sworn to the vain memory you held—your father seemed like the man you once knew; seemed like the one who had abandoned you. Rage seized a decent part of your mind—desperation to hold onto him took charge of the other.
He held you close- an embrace not felt in forever, “You’ll be fine baby,” he mumbled into your ear—“don’t say that,” you were quick to add.
“Don’t be like this,” you added next, his heart broke, yours already was.
He knew however, what you meant- not a single objection he raised, guilt all too evident on the face that held its own wisdom. Evident however, only to those who knew him and pity lay such, he never let you.
“Just entertain me here,” you finally spoke—a minute left of your song—“why did you agree to this? We’re not- we’re not in need of money, we’ve the perfect military- you’ve raised me enough for me to take over at any given instance then why—why them?”
His gaze should’ve hardened—you expected it; it softened.
“I apologise.”
You nodded yet again- an answer unkempt.
-
Satoru’s hand felt the same it had the altar, soft, scented- something you perhaps wanted to hated.
He spun you around—a man of honour your mother would call him, you beckoned yourself to him—a lady of grace his mother would call you.
People danced all around you, your eyes found their way onto your sister, smiling and giggling—suitors all around her, you smiled.
Eyes couldn’t help but falter at Suguru Geto- Satoru’s best friend, you’d learned—his presence too. In a shy corner he stood- girls around him, you wouldn’t blame them—he sought that attention after all, evident.
“You like this song?” Your eyes snapped onto Satoru—“Pardon?”
“This song, do you like it?” Your eyes gazed everyone—all the while, his, you.
“I’ve…never heard it before—”
“—well I particularly hate it,” your brows raised—“Oh alright,” you nodded, “I’ll make sure to not add it to the playlist ‘Wedding 2.0’,”
Smiles you both held- not for each other, formal entirely—“Hilarious,” he muttered, “Makes two of us,” you snapped back.
A momentary silence fell and you couldn’t yourself—“Don’t try to play the husband here, you don’t accept me and I don’t accept you which is all but fine by me but I don’t need you to make idle conversations.” Voice sharp- eyes more so.
He grinned—“Feisty Hm?” Your nose flared—“alright I’ll entertain you with the non-idle kind,” eyes looked down at you condescension, was it?
“Daddy raised you as his war general yeah?” Your jaw clenched, “what did they call you? His right arm? His best gem?”
“Domestic abuse,” you began slow, “is a very real concept Satoru,” you smiled dangerously sweet—“Pray tell, the way you speak may make you victim soon,”
He chuckled quietly, nothing humorous, “Daddy also taught you weaponry?”
“Don’t speak of him like that-respect him,” you warned, teeth gritted—both of yours eyes zooming onto him—Satoru smiled.
“Of course, nothing against my father-in-law,” another grin, “But I can say whatever to you right baby?”
You hated him.
Your eyes scanned his, his- yours.
A frown, a grin.
A cough sounded beside you just then—the man just as tall as your husband, just as, if not more so, elegant.
Your eyes met his—a pit, yours and his.
“M’lady,” he smiled smoothly- bending just enough to kiss your hand—eyes cast quick onto Satoru, “One dance with the lady of the night please?”
Never a question, only a statement.
“Yes please,” Satoru muttered all too quick- a sharp glance, yours and Suguru’s.
Before you knew it you were swept right away, Suguru danced faster—a style which complimented yours, Satoru? Quiet the very same as yours, clashing.
You smiled as he picked the momentum with you, a chuckle his too—“You look stunning tonight,”
A nervous smile you passed-“All the very same to you sir,” his eyes crept onto your skin quick—“Why, seems like it’s just the two War Generals appreciating each other,” he laughed.
You laughed along- your eyes pausing to scan the hilt of his dagger in the suit—“Talent sees talent, eh?”
Another laugh- empty. What had swept you off was pleasant, what danced with you was hollow.
“The wedding,” Suguru added—your ears perked.
“Yes?” You reflected instantly—“You helped in the management right?” He smiled—your eyes narrowed.
Bastard, you both mused.
You nodded politely, “Well a good wife has to take care of things yeah?”
He grinned, “Oh you’re all too good m’lady,” voice a whisper, “Seems to me you’ll give me a run for my life,”
You grinned back, “Bless my heart Suguru—never to my family.”
Eyes hollow, minds ran fast—‘Interesting’ you both wondered as Suguru handed you back to his best friend and your husband.
‘Interesting indeed’.
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All of this work is original and entirely my own, please refrain from copying or reposting.
— Taglist: @rizzmin @4sat0ruu @lavendervogh @yooiimiya @gojoismybitch
#gojou satoru x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#gojo x reader#jjk#gojo satoru#satoru gojo x reader#jujutsu gojo#gojo x y/n#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#jjk gojo#gojo smut#gojo saturo#satoru gojo#jujutsu satoru#jujutsu kaisen satoru#gojou satoru x you#satorugojo#jjk satoru#jujutsu geto#getou suguru#geto x y/n#getou x reader#geto suguru#jujutsu kaisen fic#jujutsu kaisen x you#๛𝐔𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬
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ok ur one of my favorite moots that post Anakin/hayden fics so i have a request 😛
i don’t remember if you write for irl hayden but if you don’t do dilf anakin (it isn’t smut)
basically dads best friend!Hayden/Anakin x bold (kind of grunge/slutty) reader
Hayden goes with reader to get a pricing.
(if you want it to be less fluffy with kinda smutty undertones you can do nip pricing’s but you could also do stomach 🤭)
basically readers dad allows it but dosen’t fully approve so he dosen’t go with her and reader needs comfort as she loves the look of piercings, but is TERRIFIED of needles.
Hayden/Anakin holds her hand and stuff and she makes funny comments like “i just want to look hot for the summer man why does this have to hurt so bad?!” or “do you think ill look sexy with these mr. Christensen/Skywalker?” 
they like gaze into each others eyes and lowk have a cute moment as he comforts her (but if they are nip piercings it would be loving for another reason too iykwim!!!)
and if you do anakin because it would be modern maybe sam monroe (obviously not the character just the look/personality) could be him at lauren’s age so he would relate to her more and be more attracted to her. maybe even on the way to the piercer have Anakin show her his old school photos and all of his piercings and reader tell him she’d do him as a teen (she has no shame and we love that!)
sorry if this request makes you uncomfortable. I just had a daydream about this as i’m getting my stomach pierced soon and thought you were the best person to ask because I love your writing 🙏😛
“one of my fav moots” you will be receiving a big smooch 😆💋
Anakin held your hand while waiting for the piercing lady to enter the small room. “God, I wish there was a way to get his damn piercing without the needle.” A complaint fell from your lips as Anakin read something on his phone with his free hand.
“Aren't magnetic balls a thing? Or some people glue them, I hear.” He replied, still scrolling through whatever he was reading. “Duh, those are a thing, but they're so ugly and fake looking.” Anakin chuckled a little, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles.
“Guess you'll just have to deal with the needle then, sweetie.” He shrugged, finally looking at you. His gaze was soft and caring, but yet so sexy and attractive. “Do you think I'll look good with a belly piercing, Mr. Skywalker?” you bat your eyelashes at him.
“Yeah, I think so. Though, I'd think maybe an eyebrow or lip piercing would look better.” He says, looking all around your pretty face and eyes that were covered in dark makeup. “I remember when I was a teenager, I had a couple of piercings myself.”
“You're such a liar.” You rolled your eyes at him. “No, seriously. I have a couple of photos and the holes to prove it.” He pointed to the small, closed hole under his bottom lip, and then the one on his eyebrow.
“Holy shit, Ani! No way you were cool.” You laughed, still keeping your eyes on the hole in his lip. He quickly pulled up the photos for more proof, too. He showed you one with a cigarette in his hand with his eyeliner, piercings (not just on his face, but ears), and dyed hair.
“Wow, Ani. If you still looked like that, I'd definitely do you.” This made Anakin blush a little and furrow his eyebrows. “Yeah, okay, kiddo.” He says and uncomfortably shifts in his chair to hide his hardening dick.
Soon enough, the lady came in and did what was expected. Ani held your hand extra tight to comfort you. “God job, sweetie. Didn't cry like I expected you to.” He says after the lady left the room.
“Does it look good?” You look at your belly. “Looks super good, honey.” He kissed your cheek before heading to the car.
That night, he touched himself to the thought of you having your nipples pierced. How pretty they'd look bouncing up and down while you ride him. Maybe he'll day something about one of his ex girlfriends having nipple piercings and how he loved them so much.
He knew you liked him. He knew you'd do anything to make him happy even if you didn't notice how good he was at convincing you to do things.
—
WAS THIS GOOD? I FEEL LIKE IT SUCKED OMG 😭 LMK IF U WANT ANYTHING TO BE CHANGED!!
#hayden christensen#anakin imagine#anakin skywalker smut#rots anakin#star wars anakin#anakin skywalker#dilf!anakin
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The English Client — Five
— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader
— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.
— WARNINGS: Tom hurts himself like an idiot and tries to hurt reader like an idiot
— WORDCOUNT: 2.6k
I
When she returned the next morning, she didn’t have the sense that anything was wrong, even when she found the ledgers placed in the wrong order underneath her desk. It wouldn’t be the first time… So she followed her routine and spent the chill hours of the morning making coffee in the little kitchen in the back and finished a review of Pliny the Younger she’d begun two days ago.
It wasn’t until later, after lunch, when she went into the back rooms to put Pliny in his place that she realised something was definitely wrong. The carpet, usually so carefully smoothed over the trapdoor, was creased in a light wave, its yellow tassels ruffled. The table in the centre of the room was quite askew as well, the items on it shifted to the right. She froze, then rushed to check the hidden door.
But the door was safe. There wasn’t even a scratch on it… She placed her signet ring into the keyhole and it popped open with a click, just as it always did. She lifted it and stepped inside, down the steps that led into the tunnel. It was dark and quiet… Nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe she was the one who made that mess the last time she was there. She did tend to be a bit clumsy sometimes…
With a sigh of relief, she climbed back up, and as her face reached the level of the floor, something shiny underneath the table caught her eye. She got up and closed the door behind her, then crawled on her knees underneath the table to grab the foreign thing.
It was one of those fancy pocket knives with all sorts of uses… Red handle, stainless steel blade. Her heartbeat turned frantic and sweat cloyed at her hairline, and she felt her stomach drop — someone else had been there. And she’d have to report this. With brisque and heavy steps, she went back to her desk and picked the phone up.
“Hello?” she whispered once the Curator picked up. “It’s me, upstairs. Erm, has anything gone missing? What? Oh, n-no reason, just, I think we had a break-in and — No, it’s fine! Just — I don’t think so. Erm, did I call him? Not yet. I —”
She listened to the frustrated cursing of the man downstairs as she stared at the Swiss knife, turning it in her hands, her whole body tense and weak, when suddenly her frown melted away and lips parted. There were two letters inscribed into the blade: C. M.
“It’s someone with the initials C and M,” she said quickly. “Know anyone? No, I don’t either… Alright. Alright, I’ll call him now. Thank you.”
II
“Yes, it’s not much to go on, but —”
“There is no need,” scraped the voice from the other end of the line.
“What?”
“You said nothing was taken?”
“A-as far as I can tell… Downstairs is safe too.”
“Hm. Possibly something forgotten by a customer.”
“H-how can you be sure?”
“If it had been an intruder, you would not have found a knife,” he said. “You would have found a corpse.”
She frowned, not really understanding him but ready to accept this resolution.
“S-so, what would you like me to do?”
Silence on the other end. Perhaps he expected her to increase security, or just carry on as normal since he seemed so calm about it…
“Put a copy of Torchia on display.”
“What?!”
“If it really was a break-in, and it has to do with the auction, we will test the resolve of our thief.”
“Do you want that book or…”
“Yes. Ask Ambrogio,” he said, and in the background, she could hear the scratching sound of him writing something down.
“Alright, sir…”
The scratching persisted until he hung up on her.
III
Tom smiled against the receiver. He so hated telephones with their smooth plastic in unnatural colours, but they were faster than an Owl… Besides, muggles seemed to love them.
“Yes, if you could manage it, I’d be ever so grateful,” he drawled silkily, putting on the same boyish airs he did when meeting with another of Burke’s clients. “No no, not right now. I’ll tell you when. Is that alright? It is? Oh, wonderful. You know, I keep thinking of that hotel you mentioned. You were right about this one, it’s awful. Yes. Yes, I’ll consider it.”
He hissed a few more pleasantries and said goodbye. When it was over, he reached to the bedside table to hang up, but not without some difficulty. He sighed and rested his cheek against his long cold palm cushioned by the pillow. Tom was lying on his front on the narrow hotel bed, a pack of ice on his hip — just a few cubes tied up in a handkerchief. It did little to reduce the bruise that bloomed there, but at least it kept the swelling down. He could think of a dozen potions that would do much better than this, but he had none of the ingredients on hand. His own fault for leaving London without buying some supplies first…
He held the pack to him and got up gingerly, growling all the while. He should have been happy, he’d made a great deal of progress in finding where they held the book, even if the way was closed to him. And with a bit of luck, he might yet find a way to gain their trust.
Tom limped over to the window, a drop of water sliding down his naked leg. The sun was setting and the streets were filling up, frothing with white dresses and silk scarves. How he hated being around muggles…
He let the curtains close again and waved his wand to brew him a cup of tea. Fire spells were so useful even if you didn’t have your mind on arson. He was at least glad he’d brought some tea leaves with him, and could brew them at just the right temperature. The milk they served around these parts was also not so bad, and worked wonderfully with the brew. It soothed his nerves if nothing else.
He sat down in the armchair, legs askew, loose shirt covering him to his thighs, and picked up his notebook. At least he knew they had the Trevisan that he was after... It would make the perfect excuse to visit again — in a more overt manner.
Absentmindedly, he placed the ice pack on his lap, and immediately jumped up in his seat.
“Oh fuck! Cold!”
He growled and with a sharp flick of his wand transformed the pack into a pillow, and settled down again.
IV
It should have delighted her that Frederico found the freedom to ask her out for lunch again. She sometimes thought she worked too many hours, but that impression faded when she heard from him. All Fred ever talked about was work. His shop was two streets away — not his of course, just as Casa Ur wasn’t hers — but he behaved as if it was his child sometimes, so dutifully he tended to it. She put it down to the speed with which she worked, as she was younger than most of the other book dealers in the city and less worn down by its pressures. But even she could not muster the endless enthusiasm of her friend.
Their lunches together had nothing romantic about them, they never did. He was a kind, soft-spoken man in his mid-forties, his skin just starting to sag around his cheeks, his forehead creased from frowning, brown eyes wet and tired behind a thick pair of glasses. The way he looked at her unnerved her sometimes, but then again, he seemed to look at everything that way…
He picked her up from Casa Ur and they went to a restaurant together, his paunch swinging before him and the sun shining brightly on the bald spot at his crown. He loved to talk, his high hoarse voice filling up the silence. She didn’t mind. She needed the company.
“And anyway, to prevent the shipment from being late, we found an old pathway they could take to avoid the flood, and they arrived five minutes before schedule,” he said, finishing the latest drama from his shop as they sat down at the restaurant across from the Fontana Trevi. “Can you imagine? Flooding, in the hottest summer on record?”
“Oh, last summer was even hotter.”
“You think so, but that’s not what they said on the weather report.”
“I think I’ll have carbonara,” she hummed, licking her lips. She loved the menu at this place…
“Hm? Oh, parmesan gnocchi for me, I think. With cream and garlic, oh yes… Wine for you?”
“No, I don’t think so. Just water.”
“Might be a while until they come around to us. So many tourists out today. Awful. Anyway, I wanted to tell you about the reason we found that route. Guess.”
“I don’t know,” she laughed.
“Guess, guess! Alright, so, it was our collection of Martinelli maps.”
“Fascinating. Oh, there’s a waiter! Scusi, cameriere!”
She hadn’t liked Fred when they first met two years before, but she’d gotten used to him. Or, she’d learned how to put up with him, allow herself to be carried on the wave of conversation that he wove. Now, it was a pleasant way to spend an afternoon, eating in the open air, letting his enthusiasm drown her worries as he wagged his sausage fingers in the air to summon up the largess of the maps that saved his boss’ shipment.
Every one of their colleagues was different, each with their own flaws and problems — broken marriage, spiteful children, loneliness and illness and malaise — but they all carried the same passion for books. Books most people never heard of, books only obsessives cared about, books older than countries. They, few and a little insane, were together enchanted by their beauty.
So she could forgive Fred his childlike wonder, even during their lunch break, because the same passion smouldered, albeit very deeply, within her. It was what kept her going in spite of her loneliness, her anomie, and the drudgery of daily life.
“By the way, who’s coming at the next auction?”
“Most of the same,” she sighed, her breath fogging the half-empty glass of water. “A few new names this time. Foreign names. Can’t say I know any of them.”
“Must be invited by Oso.”
“Oh, I doubt he has the authority.”
“No, but you know how the Baron looks up to him.”
She chuckled, her lips pursed to stop a toothy grin. “Given his condition, it’s hardly surprising.”
“What do — Oh, you mean the… Oh, that’s quite cruel,” said Fred, his eyes two charcoal slits beneath the fat dark crinkles of a smile.
“Sorry, sorry…”
“But anyway, you know he could talk him into doing just about anything.”
“Maybe… Would you like to have some coffee before we go?”
“Sure,” he said. “I know you don’t really like talking about the auctions.”
“It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just that… just that…”
“Just that you don’t like it,” he laughed.
She was playing with her fork in the leftover sauce of carbonara while Fred waved a waiter over when she noticed from the corner of her eye a familiar contrast of black hair and deathly pallor. Was that Mr. Riddle? His eyes were hidden by shades and his full lips were pressed against the rim of a wine glass, but she was certain it was him. She turned before he spotted her.
While Fred kept droning on about another fascinating problem he’d had at work, she found her thoughts drifting, dreaming, and a soft smile blossomed on her face at just the memory of how good Tom looked the last time he was in her shop. Those dark curls falling over his eyes, how she longed to ease them back, to trace the sharp angles of his jawline, to kiss him… His lips looked so soft.
She sneaked another glance his way when the waiter took their plates. Leisure looked good on him, even if he seemed an amateur at it. A workaholic, perhaps, like her… He wore a pale green shirt today. The colour tasted sweet in her mind, like pistachio gelato. It was generously parted at the neck where his sweat was cooling, and underneath the table she could tell his legs were crossed, clad in sinfully tight silver-grey trousers.
“And once we had the original manuscript, we realised it referred to the Capuchin Catacombs, not the Parisian ones! My dear, are you listening?”
“What? Yes, the catacombs, of course,” she said, hiding her warm smile behind a cup of coffee.
V
The shop was more quiet than usual when Tom stepped in that day. That was to say, it was quieter than when he’d broken in. There was a tense silence to the place, one that slithered up his spine and settled pleasantly at the back of his brain.
He hadn’t missed the Torchia displayed in the window, in the centre of a carefully constructed swirl, holding court over far lesser volumes. In fact, it was the reason he had come.
“Buongiorno.”
“H-hello!” she called from behind her desk, getting up quickly enough to knock over a stack of papers when she noticed him.
“Didn’t expect to see me again, did you?” he grinned, sliding a hand casually in his pocket.
“Not really, no,” she chuckled. “How can I help you?”
Her eyes flitted to the window before coming back to him. She was expecting him to ask for the Delomelanicon again. She probably had a whole little script ready once he did. As if Tom would fall for so obvious a trap…
“Well, I was wondering if you had a copy of The Lost Word, by Bernard Trevisan.”
“W-what?”
“Is it a bit too obscure? He’s a —”
“Fifteenth-century alchemist,” she said, her smile suddenly beaming with nothing of the apprehension from before. “The Lost Word is a famous alchemical treatise! Yes, I know it. Which edition?”
“Doesn’t matter. Any would do.”
“We have a solid copy. Not too old, but faithful to the original, and at a good price.”
She began leading him into the second room before she’d even finished speaking. What a charming girl… She’d hoped he hadn’t been the intruder, and Tom had just confirmed it. He had gained her trust.
He followed her quick and careful steps, a heady perfume trailing behind and the metronomic echo of her thin high heels.
“It’s quite deep inside,” she said.
“Is it indeed?”
His hand came slowly out of his pocket, holding his wand.
“Not much further now, through this door.”
Tom stopped, took aim, and cast it.
“Imperio.”
“I’m sorry, did you say something?” she asked as she kept walking.
“…Nothing?” Tom muttered to himself in wonder. He looked down at his wand as if it were impotent.
“What?” she said, half-turning.
He shoved the wand back between the folds of his jacket before she could see it.
“Ahem, nothing,” he smiled. “Please, continue.”
A chill ran down his skin and bile rose in his throat in anger. It was clear to Tom now that this building, or perhaps the very land it sat on, was protected by some counter-charm. His usual solutions of bending locks and minds would not suffice, but he could not call himself the Heir of Slytherin if he could not find a way. Tom eyed her figure, infuriating and sleek, and decided then and there that she would be his key.
#Tom Riddle#Tom Riddle x reader#Tom Riddle x OC#Tom Riddle fanfiction#harry potter#harry potter fanfiction#sswallow;fanfics#sswallow;made a thing#fanfic;englishclient
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Wait why are you not a fan of Snape and Hermione?? 2 nerds who care a socially awkward amount about the things they care about nerding out together at levels of romance people who can be chill and normal about things can’t comprehend?? It’s not one of my fav ships but I can definitely see it!
I headcanon that Snape picks on Hermione being a muggle raised know it all thirsty to prove and lacking self awareness because he was one himself when he arrived at school and James and Sirius picked on him for it! It’s like that you’re most repulsed by the things you’re self conscious of in yourself thing to me. Or maybe a him trying to live out being the “cool” one in that dynamic thing
But when she’s a grown woman and more self possessed like he became too I feel like that same energy ness has potential for love!
Hermione is famously respectful and compassionate enough towards all beings to be more understanding than say Lily Evans of his prickly tender ego if he had another m word style outburst and such a people pleaser she’d keep coming back for more snark as long as he peppered it with the odd encouraging compliment
And I feel like a Snape in reciprocated love could absolutely veer into inventing beautiful and helpful spells to impress his lover or sending “made me think of u 😘” notes with verses of elaborate obscure poetry territory that would be frankly the level of literary and academic courtship our Herms deserves 😌
Is it cause they’d both be the highly strung worrier one and they both need someone to ground them? Or maybe too pessimistic together and one of them needs to be the cheerful one?
anon, i genuinely love this for you - i'm always thrilled to get people explaining their love for ships in the ol' inbox, especially when they're ships i don't instinctively vibe with, and i have been won round to stranger premises than this by a passionate defence of why two characters should kiss.
where i still think snamione isn't clicking for me, however, is that the way you describe both snape and hermione here doesn't align in any significant way with what i personally think would be interesting to explore about either character in a relationship and have them still feel meaningfully like their canon selves.
[i will say, though - because i always think it's worth reiterating my fandom commitment towards being neither a cop nor a priest - that i literally don't give a shit about either the age gap or the student-teacher dynamic. i know that's an objection to pairings like snarry and snamione which lots of people do express. but i will never be one of them.]
the primary reason that i don't vibe with many of the more... sapiosexual hermione ships [by which i mean not only snamione but tomione] is that they hang on the idea that hermione's intellect expresses itself in a way we never actually see in canon.
or, the idea that snape and hermione are intellectually compatible [and that they would enjoy hanging out being nerdy about stuff] is just... not true.
throughout the seven-book canon, the way that hermione shows herself to be clever is that she displays an excellent memory and an enormous capacity to rote-learn. her intelligence is overwhelmingly demonstrated - both in the classroom and during the trio's year on the run - by her being able to regurgitate swathes of information, very usually verbatim from the source she got it from.
she is clearly able to use this ability to retain information to understand the theoretical component of magic in a way neither harry nor ron ever manage, and she is able to use this understanding of theory to work out how to perform spells which are ahead of her expected level on the hogwarts curriculum.
and this is intelligence - and i want to be very clear that i'm not trying to suggest that hermione shouldn't be thought of as intellectual, or that her academic achievements should be devalued. but it isn't the way snape's intelligence manifests itself.
because hermione is never shown - at any point in canon - to be a particularly creative or experimental thinker.
she places an enormous intellectual trust in disciplinary authority - teachers and textbooks - and is frequently rattled when these are revealed to be partial or incorrect, as we see in her shock at hogwarts: a history not mentioning house elves or her anger at harry getting better results by following the modified instructions in the prince's textbook [despite knowing nothing about the theory underpinning them] than she does with the "official" ones.
she also regards the gatekeeping of inquiry which disciplinary boundaries enforce to be a positive thing and she never displays any inclination to step beyond them. she dislikes the spells in the prince's textbook because they aren't ministry-approved - and i must say that i think the idea that she'd be won over by a man creating spells for her is wishful thinking...
she is immediately mistrustful of anything she can't find something she regards as an empirical source for - notice, for example, that she only comes round to the idea that prophecies might be real once she encounters them in the ministry of magic.
even when we see her using magic on her own terms - the jinx she uses on marietta edgecombe, for example; or the protean charm on the da coins - the magic she's using is sophisticated, and is being applied in a way which wouldn't be classroom-sanctioned, but it's not magic which is being used in a way which is removed from the spell's original purpose. the protean charm on the da coins is impressive because it's a flawless execution of newt-level magic by a sixteen-year-old. it's not impressive because hermione is using it in a strange, experimental, or radical way.
[in contrast, the dark mark - which harry notes the coins mimic - is clearly a spell voldemort himself invents.]
snape, on the other hand, is an experimenter. he's someone who clearly sees magic as a creative force which he has every right to shape as he sees fit by adaptation and invention. and he's someone who evidently rejects the logic of disciplinary gatekeeping - one tension in his relationship with dumbledore prior to half-blood prince is that snape evidently retains an enormous intellectual interest in the dark arts [which, as he tells us, are an area of magic which is feared precisely because they can't be neatly contained within disciplinary boxes - they are ever-changing, unfixed, mutating...]
and it's these conflicting views of what magic is and how it should be used and thought about which is the cause of the intellectual incompatibility we see between snape and hermione in canon.
he is unequivocally in the wrong for his dismissive classroom manner towards her - because he is an adult and she is a child. but he isn't wrong in principle that hermione just repeating what she's read in the textbook and refusing to synthesise her knowledge [she always goes massively over word limits! she never gives answers in class in her own words!] isn't actually a demonstration that she understands the material. [and therefore something a good teacher would guide her through conquering... snape having no interest in doing this is his own fault.]
and - from a snamione-specific perspective - it's all the evidence snape needs that, actually, they're not going to enjoy hanging out chatting about academic pursuits. hermione values knowledge like a dragon hoards treasure. snape wants to take that treasure, melt it down, and turn it into new and weird things.
once again, i don't think this a flaw in either of their characters - it's just something which is. and i don't think it's an insurmountable obstacle to writing snamione, because i believe any ship is possible if an author has enough nerve. but it's an aspect of both characters' canon personalities [and hermione's above all] which never seems to make it into snamione fics - all of which, as far as i've encountered them, are beholden to an idea of hermione's approach to academia which is considerably more flexible than we actually see in the books.
of your other points, i'm not particularly convinced by the idea that snape sees his younger self in the teenage hermione. this isn't just for the reasons outlined above - hermione isn't trying to prove herself in the same way he was, which was by creating and experimenting in a bid to be noticed and considered impressive - but also because of the massive gulf in their respective class backgrounds.
hermione is really posh - and, while she's obviously subjected to discrimination at hogwarts on account of her blood-status, she also comes from a family with both the financial resources and the cultural language to make her familiar with the vibe of the elite muggle boarding schools hogwarts is a pastiche of.
the teen snape - in contrast - stands out from his cohort in that he is visually identifiable as working-class [which does appear to be genuinely unusual at hogwarts]. his class background is something which clearly drove a lot of the marauders' bullying of him [i'm sorry to the girlies who think james and sirius targeted him out of some righteous desire to stamp out his prejudice - it was because he was poor and uncouth] and which he still has a chip on his shoulder about as an adult.
this - again - is not an insurmountable barrier to a snamione relationship [as it's not a barrier to thousands of real-world partnerships and friendships]. but it is something an author needs to grapple with if they want to make the pairing - at least, in my opinion - seem plausible. but the standard vibe seems to be that snape would be comfortable in the grangers' home fairly quickly, and that he'd be delighted to have hermione swanning around offering suggestions for how they could do up spinner's end... instead of him resenting this as the unwelcome meddling of people who've never had to worry for money.
i'm also not particularly convinced by the idea that hermione would get over being called a mudblood - especially by an adult man. while i think it's completely plausible that she'd handle this differently than lily [although lily's reaction is entirely justified - and i don't think we should throw the baby out with the bathwater of contextualising the teenage snape and the motivating factors behind his decisions by pretending that cutting off your friend because he called you a slur is a petty, ill-thought-out, or unreasonable move], i don't think that her reaction would be automatically forgiving.
hermione is compassionate towards kreacher when he calls her a mudblood because kreacher is a slave, whose prejudicial views are inextricably bound up in the magic used to oppress him [i.e. that if he received an order to use the term, or to refuse to serve a muggleborn food, from his masters, he would have to punish himself violently if he disobeyed it]. she is not - quite rightly! - compassionate towards someone like draco malfoy when he calls her one, since he is a free person with full agency to choose not to do this.
could she forgive him - or snape - for using the term? sure! absolutely! but i don't think it's a given - and i also think she'd expect a demonstration of how sorry snape was which wouldn't necessarily align with how he'd think he'd demonstrated his regret.
i do agree that - as you say - hermione is a people-pleaser, and she definitely has a far greater tolerance for being treated cruelly by people she wants to impress [especially authority figures - including snape himself] than either harry or ron. and i think this has the potential to introduce an extremely thorny dynamic into a snamione fic - in which the power dynamic inherent in the age gap [which, to reiterate, i think is completely fine for an author to enjoy] is compounded by hermione being unwilling to anger or contradict snape [which is a vibe - as i've said in answer to an ask about harmony - we also see in her relationship with harry... it's also obviously exactly how snape's relationship with dumbledore works.]
on a couple of the more minor characterisation notes, i'm afraid that the idea of snape as a great romantic has never hit for me. it seems really bound up in the way alan rickman portrayed him in the films, which i've always found a bit toothless. i also don't like the trope of "actually snape's really hot" which seems to always accompany it - ugly, odd men to get to bone too!
[what he would be - i think - is a magpie. get ready to be handed odd stones and bits of leaves on dates.]
i also think they're highly-strung in ways which differ enough to mean they'd just annoy each other. hermione is highly-strung in that she flusters easily and is very poor under pressure, but she's actually pretty emotionally stable [and i'd dispute that she's a pessimist - this is a girl who thinks that she's successfully eradicating slavery at hogwarts by knitting hats; she's pretty robust, funny, cheerful, and idealistic]. snape is highly-strung in that he has a hair-trigger temper and is very emotionally volatile, but he's obviously an extraordinarily good liar, very quick on his feet, and very good under pressure. he'd think she panicked too much [and over insignificant things he didn't care about], she'd think he tanked the vibe of a date by taking offence at someone breathing too loudly.
where are they similar? well, they have a shared self-serving streak [hermione is appalled by behaviour from harry and ron she considers perfectly moral when she does it]; capacity for cruelty; tendency towards secrecy; tendency towards pettiness and pleasure in the misfortune of others; loathing of flying a broom; cutting sense of humour; stubbornness; resilience; clear dislike of slumming it in nature; love of puzzles; and a weakness for red hair.
i think you could make it work on the grounds that they'd probably have the time of their lives being haters together - especially, i feel, about rita skeeter.
and - y'know - because love is weird.
#asks answered#asenora's opinions on ships#snamione#hermione granger#severus snape#is this an “i'm in danger” one?#only time will tell
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can you do something for mark estapa with the prompt “just let me take care of you?"
She's Got a Temper
Mark was an avid fighter, everyone knew it, whether it was on or off the ice that boy was always finding himself in conflict.
The only exception being her, he was so gentle with her. Trading in the aggression for gentle touches and longing glances.
They weren’t officially dating, they didn’t need the label to prove that they were in love with one another. Besides everyone knew that she was Mark's girl, the girl who could perfectly balance his emotions with just simply being around.
This brought us to now, a loud party in the senior hockey boy's house, a typical weekend night.
She’d stuck by Ethan and Duker most of the night waiting for Mark to finally arrive after his late night Friday class.
“Where’s stop sign?” Luke asked as he joined in the beer pong-watching gallery, a big showdown between Mackie and Luca.
“Just texted me that he’s on the way” she smiled as Luca did a celebratory dance around the kitchen, rubbing the loss right in Mackie’s face, gaining laughs and hollers from the people surrounding.
“I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go get another beer” she looked over to Ethan who nodded and ushered for her to grab him one as well.
The one thing about these parties is beside the boys, her own best friends, and the few people she shared classes with, she knew absolutely no one.
Walking up to the back door where hers and Eddy’s shared twenty-four pack was she saw someone talking something from it.
“I’m sorry, that’s not yours bud” she grinned with furrowed brows and waited for him to put it back.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m like a hundred percent sure those are mine,” she said making her grin fall and her lips going tight-lipped as she looked between him and the box clearly labelled “Y/N/N and Eddy’s!!”
He laughed and scanned the girl, “pretty girls don’t drink beer,” he joked, but not a single laugh left her lips.
"That is rather sexist of you" she in a dry tone.
He was tall, not that tall, but definitely had some inches on her, taking notice as he made a step a little closer to get a better look at her.
The interaction was getting a little too much for her, “are you gonna put it back? Or are you just gonna stand there checking me out?”
“I love a girl with an attitude” she scoffed.
He was merely inches away from her face, too close for comfort before his free hand found the dip in her hip.
She laughed dryly before turning around to walk away, deciding her beer wasn’t worth her next actions.
“Oh come on, I just wanted to show you a fun time” he laughed sickly before she turned around, her fist connected with his nose.
Gasps erupted as his grip on her waist tightened, “get your hand off of me” she spat before kicking him right in the groin as he fell to his knees.
A laugh left Grano’s lips before he walked over to the girl to usher her away from the guy groaning on the floor, “you think she’s bad, wouldn’t want to piss off her boyfriend” the much taller hockey boy said to the guy who was wounded on the floor.
“One second ” she put her hand up to make the boy stop pulling her away, she bent down and ripped the two cans of beer from his arms before standing back up and smiling again as Nick smiled at her now cheery attitude before walking her back to the boys.
“Keep your eyes on this one” Grano laughed while passing her off to Mark whose smile faltered after looking at her bruised knuckles.
“Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to be fighting one?” Mark asked sweetly while taking her hand into his to look at the broken skin.
She pouted, “he stole my beer” Mark looked up at her and laughed as she handed Ethan his beer.
“You’re gonna need ice,” he said dropping her hand and walking over to the fridge.
“It’s fine Mark, really” she smiled and kissed him on the cheek as he rolled his eyes at her dismissals.
“Just let me take care of you” he mumbled and placed another kiss on her temple before walking over to the freezer to get an ice pack.
Thank you she said, putting an ice pack on her knuckles before finding comfort under his arms, placing a soft kiss on his chest as he pulled her in closer.
“Anything for you babe” he mumbled before returning to watching the boys with their cup-pong antics
#rowans100followercelly<3#mark estapa#mark estapa x reader#nick granowitz#umich imagine#umich hockey#umich blurbs#hockey au#hockey#hockey boys
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Orgasms just hit better when your dumb.
It was one line and yet it bothered her. It couldn’t be true. She enjoyed her orgasms and she was highly intelligent. She had to test the theory. But how? It had to be measured in a way that she could tell the difference. She had to make herself dumber so she could feel which orgasm was better. How to make her self dumber though?
She rushed in and ask her male co workers.
“Not showing off her degrees. Smart girls want to prove they are smart. They hang them like art work. Have some sexy pictures or some basic mass produced artwork ”
Down all her hard work came off the wall. Up went something from the local store. The night she hit a new high in orgasming. This has to be a fluke, so she asked again the next day.
“Lots of make up and bleached hair.” One commented well checking the stocks. “They always turn out to be ditzy, even if they try to come off as intelligent and well educated. You do that to you hair, you definitely aren’t the smartest and add a lot of make up, you spend a lot of time just fixing yourself up, that’s not time to study.”
She booked an appointment at a salon for that evening. Well her hair was done she watched make up tutorials learning how to emphasize her features. Seeing herself with her new blonde hair even she thought she looked a bit more empty headed. Very cute but maybe not all there. She tested her skills at the make up when she got home. Sultry and it took a while to do, it was nearly bed time, she’d have no time to read. But she had time for two orgasms. It was only because the first one was so fast. It was just so good that she had to do it again just to make sure.
“Just by looking at a girl, what makes you think she is dumb?”
“I mean I know people will yell at me, but when she has for a huge set of boobs, especially if she is showing them off, she is probably not the brightest bulb in the house. It’s hot anyways”
Vacation boobs. A few injections and she would have a temporary set to help her experiment. She would get rid of them later. She walked out of the doctor’s office with a new huge rack on display. She loved the stares she got. She had spent 3 hours getting ready this morning with an extra 30 minutes to masturbate before she left. Now she was ready to see if sex with a partner was better. She called her favorite FWB. He commented on her new look
“I’m trying to look dumb for an experiment, what makes a girl look dumb?”
“Girls who look in the mirror a lot and watch reality tv. They look so dumb.” He added as you went down to start round two wanting another great orgasm.
Three days of having these tits and fucking a ton of guys. She had been watching only reality tv and was having trouble spelling. She began dressing like the girls on TV. Her boss threatened to denote her if her work didn’t improve. But the orgasms were just so good. They kept getting better. There was something here, she knew it.
She was staring at herself in the mirror. Big but not big enough. She wanted them to be huge. Bigger is so better when it comes to tits. Just 3 or 4 more cup sizes. She’d look so dumb then. She scanned her body down. Maybe she needed some other improvements.
Like this ass needs some nice high shoes to make it even better. She quickly went to the nearest shoe store and purchased several pairs making sure to get all the highest heels to emphasize her body.
Oh yea, like the expiri…expuri…like that idea thingy test. That like means it’s totally time to get fucked! Fucking is like sooo much fun! She had to find some partners. She strut into the nearest club and found a couple who were interested in going home with her.
The red head under her and the body builder with his cock deep in her cunt fucking her from behind. Oh yeah this was the life. Being sexy and just finding partners to fuck. Lapping up the beautiful girls cunt as she came on her tongue over and over. Having a cock ducking her deep and filling her with the best cum. Now that her IQ was down even more, this orgasm would be earth shattering. Maybe she could still get dumber yet.
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Getting down to business
Julian Kaye x F!Reader
Summary: You run across Julian Kaye on several occasions at the hotel your friend works at. Each time you see him, you are more and more fascinated by his easy charm. After one specific evening, you finally decide to make a business transaction with him in the hopes that Julian will be able to satisfy you in a way that no other man ever has.
Warning/Tags: oral sex (f!receiving), sex work, shy reader, body worship, fluff and smut
WC: 9.5k // Explicit 🔞
This is written for the Naughty or Nice Bernthirst Prompt Fest. The prompt was on the Naughty list and was “Keep your eyes open, look at me.” with Julian Kaye. Idk whose prompt it is, but I hope that I was able to work it into my initial idea well enough. I definitely had an incredible time writing for Julian, and it's some of the softest, yet still intense smut I've written. And we have a shy reader this time, which is also kind of a first for me.
Happy holidays everyone 🎉
Looking around yourself to take the whole restaurant in again, your eyes fell to the crystal chandelier hanging above the table you were sitting at with your three friends. It sparkled under the soft lights of the venue, giving the place an even more luxurious appearance than the rest of the decor already did. Your eyes travelled away from the chandelier and moved to the bar lying in your line of sight, where a man was sitting at, deep in conversation with the woman next to him. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint what about him had attracted your eyes enough that you’d kept looking back towards him every few minutes since he’d sat down, but you’d found him intriguing right off the bat. He’d joined the woman he was still talking to a good twenty minutes ago, and she’d welcomed him with a seductive smile, which he’d returned with a sultry twist to his lips. They were nursing a glass of wine each, taking a sip here or there, as they kept their heads together while they spoke. You had no idea what they were talking about since, even if there hadn’t been some soft music playing, they were too far away for you to hear anything. From the body language, however, it was still pretty clear that they’d be leaving the hotel together. Or maybe get a room.
You finally returned your attention to your friends, laughing when, Chloe, the birthday girl, got all excited as the waiter arrived with a small cake, three sparklers crackling on top of it. Clarissa, one of your two other friends, worked at the hotel and had managed to secure a table for tonight, the restaurant being fully booked on most evenings. The food was as delicious as expected, and the dessert proved just as good. While you were savoring the rich cream of the chocolate dessert, you glanced back to the man, only to find him standing and holding out his hand for the woman. You watched how she shot him a falsely coy smile before taking his hand and joining his side.
“Looks like Julian has found a new client,” Clarissa chuckled next to you, and you noticed that she was looking in the same direction as you.
“Julian?” You frowned curiously at her use of the word client. “Do you know him?”
“Sure. He’s an escort. He’s good friends with the head concierge, and the costumers he brings in are always super rich and leave huge tips. Well… I think they’re this generous because something else is huge,” Clarissa cackled at her joke, while Chloe and Zara snorted.
Your eyes widened at the information. An escort? Looking him over with a new eye, you thought that he did fit the part. He was dressed to the nines, not a piece of clothing out of place, as was his impeccable hair, while the fitted suit he was wearing perfectly highlighted his body. He definitely looked like his clientele was from the upper crust.
“Wonder how much a night with him is,” Chloe mused with an appreciative glance over her shoulder to look at the man while the two others laughed.
“I don’t know, but I don’t think you could hire Julian Kaye with your teacher’s salary,” Clarissa winked at her, and Chloe flipped her off good-naturedly.
“So he’s that good, huh?” you asked without meaning to as you watched Julian vanish towards the elevators with the woman. So they would be staying at the hotel.
“From what I heard.” Clarissa shrugged. “I mean, he’s really nice and all, and he’s always super discreet with his clients. I’ve never been able to really overhear them talk whenever I was serving drinks while he was there. I think that’s what the ladies like about him… But rumor is that none of his clients ever left unsatisfied. You only need to see the looks on their faces when they leave,” she chuckled.
The conversation steered into another direction after that, but your eyes kept returning to where the couple had left, like you were expecting to see them again and witness the proof of Clarissa’s words. Giving yourself a mental head shake as it happened for the fourth time, you forced yourself to stop and spent the rest of the evening steadfastly ignoring that corner of the hotel.
A few days later, you made your way through the main hall of the hotel and towards the bar of the restaurant, intending to find Clarissa. You’d left a jacket at her place a few weeks earlier and had asked her to bring it today since the hotel was on your way home from work.
Since it was late afternoon, there was only a low number of people at the bar. Julian Kaye was one of them, however. The man was sitting at the opposite end of the bar from where you were standing. This time, you were much closer to him than the first time you’d seen him, giving you the chance to take him in some more. He was sitting with his profile to you, giving you a perfect view of his chiseled jaw and the straight slope of his broad nose. Your eyes traveled to his lips as he smiled at something he was seeing on his phone, the relaxed expression looking at odds with the flirty smiles you’d seen a few nights earlier. Appearance wise, he looked just as fetching as the other day. This time, he was wearing a dark green suit that flattered his skin tone, and a pair of shiny black loafers. His hair fell slightly into his face from how he was leaning over the phone, but he brushed it back up by sliding his fingers through it. Watching him like this, you had no doubt that this man could have any woman he wanted.
“Oh, hey, you’re already here.”
You blinked back to reality and turned your head away from Julian to face Clarissa, now standing across from you behind the bar.
“Uh, yeah, hi, I was done earlier than expected, so I figured I could just grab a drink while I’m here before heading home.”
Clarissa beamed at your decision to stay for a while longer before she returned to the staff room to grab the jacket for you. You thanked her with a smile and plopped down on the stool in front of her.
“The usual?” Clarissa asked, already reaching for a glass on the shelf behind her.
You shrugged with a thoughtful look. “Why don’t you surprise me and mix something for me?”
She grinned brightly and nodded excitedly; Clarissa was always sure to come up with some delicious cocktail.
After you’d been chatting for some time while she busied herself with cleaning this or that item or serving customers, you suddenly noticed a tall form moving closer to you and a pleasant scent reaching your nose. Turning your head in the direction of the person, your eyes widened when you saw Julian standing barely a foot away from you as he leaned over the bar and towards Clarissa.
“Hey, Clarissa, could you send us two whiskeys down there, please? Top shelf.” He extended a hand with a crisp dollar bill clamped between his index and middle finger.
His voice was smooth and low as he spoke. It wasn’t particularly deep, but the soft, almost private sounding tone he used along with his friendly smile had a warm tingle running down your spine.
“Coming right up,” Clarissa grinned, snagging the bill from his fingers and going to work instantly.
Julian smiled back, before his face turned a bit and his eyes landed on you. You could feel your face heating under his attention, and were only able to stare at him wordlessly. His head titled faintly to the side as his lips pulled up more to one side. He was smirking at you, but there was only curious amusement in it.
“You’re Clarissa’s friend?” he inquired, turning his whole body towards you this time. “Think I’ve seen you here a couple times before.”
Your eyes widened slightly at finding out that Julian had noticed you, even if it was only in relation to Clarissa.
“Oh — um, yes.”
You didn’t get the chance to say anything more, since Clarissa came back with two tumblers of whiskey and pushed them over the dark wood of the bar and towards Julian.
“Here you go.”
Julian grinned at her and picked the glasses up with a soft “Thank you”, then shot you a light wink before returning to the end of the bar where a woman was sitting.
“He seems nice,” you mentioned to Clarissa in a completely fake nonchalant tone as you took a sip from your drink, not wanting to give away how curious you were about this Julian Kaye.
“Julian? Yeah. Like I said the other day, he’s a really nice guy.” She held up the money he’d given her. “And a big tipper too. I’ve stopped trying to give him back any change, and he’s stopped telling me to keep it,” she said with a small laugh, moving to the side to finish the transaction with the till.
“And the owner doesn’t mind him … working here?” you kept asking, glancing back towards Julian to see his lips pull into a playful smile at what the woman was telling him. He really had a beautiful mouth.
Clarissa shrugged. “It’s LA, right? I guess everyone wins in this situation and as long as there are no issues, no one really cares.”
You nodded, seeing her point.
“Besides, it’s not like he’s here every night, either. He probably has his regulars here and there, and I know that he’s taken one or two of the women here to some fancy events.”
Humming at her explanation, you chose to change the subject, no matter how much you wanted to ask more questions.
As you finally made your goodbyes twenty minutes later, you noticed that Julian was standing too and offering his arm to the woman. She seemed to be in her late 50s or early 60s, the plastic surgery she had gotten done making it harder to determine. As you slowly followed behind them to get to the exit of the restaurant, Julian noticed you as they stepped outside. He sent you a small smile and a nod of farewell, which you echoed shyly. You consciously refrained yourself from looking back at where he’d walked off to this time, and headed down in the opposite direction.
In the following days, your mind regularly returned to Julian. And his job. You had no doubt that the man actually had several clients over the whole city. He was beautiful and charming, and the way he looked at the person he was talking to made it seem like they had his full attention. You’d seen it during the two times he’d been talking to either of these women, but also when he’d talked to you. As short as the encounter had been, he’d really looked at you.
Clarissa’s words also kept repeating in your head: Rumor is that none of his clients ever left unsatisfied. You bit the inside of your cheek each time you remembered that part and thought of his lips, wondering if… but then you shook your head, feeling ridiculous for entertaining that thought for even a second.
That Saturday evening, you once again made your way through the hotel lobby and into the restaurant, looking for Clarissa. You and the girls were going out tonight, but Clarissa had to work a longer shift than anticipated due to one of her coworkers calling in sick. You’d offered to run by her place and pick up a few things for her so she could change at the hotel, and you’d go straight from there.
Clarissa watched you approach with a bright smile, making grabby hands at the little bag you’d brought her with her stuff inside.
“You have no idea how happy I am to see you. I thought the day would never end,” she sighed as you handed her the bag over the bar. “Thanks, I’ll be out front in a sec. Wanna drink something while you wait?”
“Nah, I’m good. I’ll just sit down over there.” You motioned to one of the small bar tables with your chin.
Clarissa nodded and ran through the ‘employees only’ door at the back of the bar.
While you waited, you let your eyes move around the bar, absently looking at the patrons coming in and out of the restaurant.
“You’re by yourself tonight?” asked a low voice close by, making your head jerk in its direction.
Julian was standing to the side of your table, smiling down at you with this soft expression that you realized was his natural smile. Today, he’d gone for dark gray slacks and a burgundy button down shirt, the top two buttons undone and the jacket thrown over one arm. Your heart started beating faster at the sight of him and the attention that was directed solely on you. You took in a deep breath to calm yourself, doing it slowly and hoping that Julian didn’t notice it.
“Uh, no. I’m waiting for Clarissa to get ready to leave.”
Julian gave you a once over, making more heat run over your face and neck.
“Going somewhere?”
“Uh huh… I mean, yes. We’re trying out this new, uh, restaurant down town and… yeah.”
You wanted to sink through the floor with how awkward you felt. Smooth? You didn’t know them.
“Yeah? What’s the place called?”
If he noticed your distress, he didn’t show it. Instead, he seemed so honestly interested that it rendered you to an even bigger stuttering mess.
“Oh, um…” you blinked a few times, unable to remember the name of the restaurant. “It was, uh… something Italian?”
Julian’s mouth quirked to the side in amusement, but it wasn’t mocking. If anything, it looked actually sort of fond, which had your heart doing double time. You also had to force yourself to not let your eyes stare at his expressive mouth.
You jerked in your seat at the call of your name a moment later, breaking the spell Julian had put on you with his eyes alone, and swiveled your head to see Clarissa walking up to the table.
“I’m ready when you are,” she announced with a grin, before she looked at Julian. “Hey, Julian.”
“Hey,” Julian smiled, right before someone called out his name from down the bar, and he turned towards the voice.
You and Clarissa followed his gaze and found a woman dressed in an elegant jumpsuit waiting for Julian at the entrance of the restaurant.
“Ladies, if you’ll excuse me… Have a nice evening at that Italian place,” Julian smiled charmingly at the two of you. “It was nice seeing you again,” he added just for you, and the way he said your name at the end had warmth curling in your belly.
Somehow, the simple use of your name also helped you make a choice about something that you hadn’t consciously been thinking about; or rather, not allowed yourself to really think about.
“You too,” you managed, as you got up and joined Clarissa, a rush of nervousness and exhilaration washing over you at your decision.
Julian smiled again and gave you a nod while you and Clarissa said goodbye. You watched him walk towards the woman with long and smooth strides, making you instantly picture a panther.
“Okay, let’s go,” Clarissa said, checking her phone. “Zara just texted that they’re already there.”
You nodded and followed her as you hurried out of the hotel.
“What’s the name of the restaurant again, by the way? Josh asked me earlier, but I couldn’t remember,” she asked a minute later, as you walked towards the nearest subway station.
“Leoncini’s,” you replied automatically, still lost in thought.
You mentally facepalmed a second later because, of course, now you remembered the name. If you decided to go through with your plan, then you would have to make sure that you would be able to string along more than one coherent sentence.
Several hours later and after a fun evening with the girls, you laid in bed but were unable to go to sleep despite your tiredness. You felt both absolutely ridiculous, but also incredibly excited about your decision, which had you going back and forth on going through with it or not.
But you were so curious, and the thought of Julian doing this to you had you squeezing your legs together. The fact that you were paying for his services was the part that made you the most self-conscious. But then, at least you could be sure that he’d take care of you, right?
Grabbing one of your pillows, you pressed it over your face and groaned into it with exasperation and frustration, leaving it there for a good minute. As you finally removed it, your face now hot from embarrassment and the pillow itself, you stared at the ceiling and breathed in deeply. Once. You were going to do this once. For yourself.
Deciding on how to approach Julian about the whole thing took you several days of psyching yourself into actually doing it. It was one thing to decide that you wanted to do it, and another one to actually go through with it. One thing was certain, the only place you knew Julian to regularly be at was the hotel, which meant that Clarissa couldn’t be working on the day you went there. Thankfully, you talked about your respective jobs often enough that you knew when she was off the following week. You could only hope that Julian would be there as well, since Clarissa had told you that he wasn’t there every night.
That Friday evening, you made sure to put extra care in what you were wearing. Julian would probably not be available the same night, which was fine by you, but you still wanted to look your best while making your request.
Your heart was beating like crazy during the whole time it took you to get to the hotel, and you had to shake out your hands before going in to stop your nervous twitching. With one final deep breath, you walked through the lobby, nodding at the person behind the reception desk since you knew them — hopefully he wouldn’t tell Clarissa about seeing you today — and entered the restaurant. You scanned the bar and the tables lined up in front of it. Not seeing him, you looked towards the restaurant tables, but you were just as unsuccessful in finding Julian. Heaving a sigh, you bit over your lower lip, wondering about what to do. You couldn’t be sure that he would come at all, but maybe he’d be in a little later. With a look at the bar, you chose to take a seat there and have a drink. Thankfully, you didn’t remember meeting the bartender who took your order.
Nearly a whole hour passed before you started to think that tonight would be one of those nights where Julian wouldn’t show up. You checked your phone for the time again, and sighed, about to get up, when you heard laughter and lifted your head towards the doors. Julian, dressed in a deep blue suit, walked through them with another man, the latter laughing loudly, while Julian chuckled and shook his head. Your heart, which had had the time to calm down in the past hour, found the same nervous rhythm as when you’d first arrived. You closed your hands into fists over your thighs before rubbing your palms over them. Julian was walking in your direction, and you tried to angle your body so he would see that it was you, but also not make it obvious that you were hoping that he’d see you. Picking up your second drink and surreptitiously glancing up from under your lashes as you watched them come closer, you saw Julian listening to something the other man was saying while letting his eyes drift over the room. Recognition sparked in his eyes as his gaze landed on you. You met his eyes when his lips pulled into a smile, and sent him a small one in return.
“Hey, how’re you doing?” Julian asked, stopping at your level.
“Good, thank you,” you smiled, turning your glass in your hands before stopping the nervous motion.
Julian looked around the bar and tilted his head.
“Clarissa here?”
Your eyes widened briefly at his question. Of course, he supposed you were here for Clarissa again.
“Uh, no, she’s off today.”
Julian’s eyes went back to you, but you were unable to meet them. You stared into your glass instead.
“Julian?” asked the other man after a beat of silence.
You lifted your eyes again to see Julian looking at the man and nodding.
“Have a good evening,” Julian said with a small smile directed at you and began walking again.
Shit. You’d had the perfect opportunity, but you totally blew it by not engaging more with him, and now he was walking away.
Feeling like a fool, you stared at his slowly retreating back and sighed loudly.
“Julian!”
Julian looked back at you with the same surprise that you were feeling, since you hadn’t consciously decided to call out his name. Tightening your jaw with new resolve, you put your drink back on the bar and slid from the stool to take a step in Julian’s direction.
“Do you maybe have a minute?”
Frowning slightly for a second, Julian shot a look towards the other man.
“I’ll join you later,” he told him.
The man gave you a quizzical look, but agreed and continued on alone.
With his hands in the pockets of his pants, Julian slowly walked back to you, stopping a few feet away.
“What’s-”
“Could we do this somewhere more private?” you cut in, nervously glancing around you and wringing your hands.
Frowning again and squinting at you curiously, Julian motioned for you to follow him out of the restaurant and towards a somewhat secluded alcove.
“What can I do for you, Sweetheart?”
Your heart missed a beat at the endearment. By the way he was looking at you and his soft tone, Julian was clearly concerned about your need to talk to him. It took you another second to find your voice again and get your thoughts in order.
“Okay, so, um… First off, I need this to stay between us. Clarissa can’t know, okay?”
Julian nodded slowly, one eyebrow lifting questioningly.
“Of course.”
Nodding as well, you blew out a loud breath and uttered a small, nervous laugh. Now or never.
“Right, so…” you stalled for a second before powering on. “I’d like to… um… hire your services?”
Now both of Julian’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline, as he’d clearly not expected anything of the sort. His head tilted to one side as he considered you, his back straightening and his hands going back into his pants.
“And what kind of services would you like?” he wondered, taking a step closer to you as his voice lowered, turning more private.
Willing the heat of embarrassment suffusing your face away, you bit over your bottom lip and glanced into his eyes before looking away again.
“I would like you to make me come with only your mouth,” you replied quietly, forcing the blunt words out so there wouldn’t be any doubts about what you wanted or expected from him.
Julian was quiet for a moment before he spoke again.
“That’s it? Nothing else?”
Looking at his questioning eyes, you nodded with a one-sided shrug.
“I’ve never been able to get there with my previous partners, so,” you trailed off with another self-conscious shrug.
“Then you haven’t been with any decent men,” Julian said with an unimpressed look on his face at the knowledge that seemingly no one had made enough of an effort for you.
A small, surprised laugh escaped you at the vehemence in his tone.
“Maybe, I don’t know, but…” you sighed. “I tend to, you know, always be too much in my head. Like, I can’t fully let go, I guess.”
Julian observed you quietly for a few seconds.
“What makes you think it’ll be different with me?”
You’d asked yourself the same question, so the answer came quickly this time.
“I suppose, well, hope really, that since there’s no pressure whatsoever for anything else beyond that, I’ll be able to, well, get out of my head.” You laughed under your breath. “And I have more confidence that you know what you’re doing.”
Julian chuckled at the last part, and he hummed thoughtfully.
“And when would you like this to happen?”
“So you agree?” you asked, eyes wide at his easy acceptance.
He huffed out a small laugh of equal surprise and let his eyes travel over you. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Heat blooming on your face, you looked away with a small smile.
“Well… I’m usually free on any nights, so… Whenever you’re free, I guess… And,” you hesitated for a second? “What do you charge for that?”
Julian pulled out his phone from the inside of his jacket and scanned it for a minute.
“How about tomorrow?” he suggested, throwing you a brief look over the top of his phone as he typed.
“Oh… um, okay.”
“Here okay, or you wanna go somewhere else?”
You’d thought about that and even considered asking him back to your place if he agreed, but you’d quickly decided that you’d rather it happen somewhere neutral. You laughed nervously.
“Here would be fine by me, but I can barely afford more than two drinks here once in a while without having to eat cup noodles for the following week. So paying you and a room…” you laughed with a grimace and let the end of the sentence unspoken, the meaning clear without you voicing it. You were in a luxury hotel, and the drinks definitely followed the general rates of the establishment. Only Clarissa working here got you a small discount. “I’ll have to think about-”
“Tell you what… I can usually get a room here without problem,” Julian told you with a smile.
“Oh… Really? I guess… If you’re sure, then that would be… great.”
Nodding decisively, Julian shook his phone and motioned it at you.��
“Can I have your phone number?”
“Oh… Yes, sure.”
You recited the number while Julian typed it into his phone, then your own vibrated in your purse.
“I sent you the rates,” Julian explained as you pulled your phone out of your purse.
You stared at the price popping up in the texts. It was expensive, but far less than you had expected, which was a good thing. Looking back at Julian, you gave him a succession of quick nods of agreement.
“Um… how… do you prefer your payments? Do I wire them or, um… ugh, I’m sorry for being so awkward about all this… I keep feeling like I’m going to say something really offensive and ask the wrong question at some point.”
You huffed out an exasperated laugh and rubbed your palms over your arms.
“Don’t be,” Julian smiled gently, leaning forward to catch your gaze, which you had averted during your muttering. “Never anything wrong with asking for what you want. Any woman should be taken care of the way she deserves to. That’s what I’m here for.”
You bit your lip at the heartfelt words, and gave him a small, grateful smile for putting you at ease.
“As for your question. Wired, cash, however’s fine by me,” he added.
“‘kay… Is there something… I should… be aware of? Like dos and don’ts?”
Julian considered you for a little moment and shook his head minutely.
“Think about what you’ll be comfortable doing. Or me doing to you. I’ll follow your lead. But we can always go with the flow, see how I can get you out of that pretty head of yours.” He pointed at your forehead with a small chuckle.
“Oh… yeah, okay.”
Your breathing ticked up a notch at his words.
“Right… Wanna meet in this spot tomorrow around 9?”
“Yeah,” you stopped yourself from saying okay again. You couldn’t remember how often you must have said it tonight, or any variation of it.
“Good,” Julian smiled, pocketing his phone. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Tomorrow,” you smiled back, nodding.
With a last nod of goodbye, Julian turned around and walked back into the restaurant, leaving you to stare after him with a still baffled expression. This was actually going to happen. You were going to have that gorgeous man’s mouth on you. A shiver of anticipation ran down your spine.
When you woke up the next morning after barely getting any sleep the previous night from all the excitement and nervousness of what was to come, you started wondering if going to the hotel was the best idea. What if someone recognized you and saw you with Julian, only to tell Clarissa about it? Sure, it was none of her business, but you still didn’t feel like sharing what you were going to do with her or any of your two other friends. You couldn’t be sure that they’d understand; it was quite an unconventional request coming from you.
After lying around in bed for an hour and going back and forth with your emotions on the matter, you finally put a lid on all of it and decided to just go for it. It was only tonight, you’d be discreet and even if someone saw you, what did they actually know that wouldn’t be anything more than wild assumptions? With a decisive nod, you got up and went about your day, trying to push any thoughts of that evening to the back of your mind so they wouldn’t distract you too much. Which you weren’t that successful at since you weren’t working and hadn’t planned anything in particular except for doing some chores.
By the end of the day, you were a nervous wreck and only managed to go through the process of getting ready on autopilot. Before you knew it, it was ten minutes to nine, and you were, once again, standing in front of the hotel. Quickly going through the lobby and avoiding the reception desk just in case, you arrived at the alcove and found Julian already standing there. He was leaning against the wall, his stance relaxed with one ankle crossed over the other, while he looked at his phone. He’d gone for a charcoal suit with a dark red button down shirt. You swallowed at the outfit, as well as at his sharp jaw that looked freshly shaved and at his nose that scrunched up in thought. That gorgeous man would be yours for the night.
Julian’s head lifted as you came closer, his hair falling slightly into his eyes from the motion. Your breath caught as he smiled, one side of his mouth pulling up more than the other.
“Hey,” he said and turned to you, taking a few steps in your direction to meet you halfway while his eyes swept over you. “You look beautiful.”
“Hey,” you replied in kind, except that it came out breathless and almost inaudible. “Thank you,” you managed after another breath, your face feeling hot.
“Is there something you’d like to do before we go up or…?” Julian inquired, putting his hands in his pockets, but still leaning closer to you.
“Um, no, I think I’m good,” you muttered, trying to get your heart beat under control.
Julian nodded with a small smile and extended an arm in the direction you were going into before leading the way. As you silently followed him to the elevators, you glanced down at his hands that were still sitting in his pants. He hadn’t touched you at all. He’d come closer, as he’d done yesterday evening, talked in a seductive voice, but he hadn’t touched you, keeping his hands to himself at all times. As excited for that to change as you were, you realized that he was doing it on purpose and clearly for your sake, considering how he hadn't refrained from touching his other clients. You felt immeasurably glad about him picking up on you being apprehensive of being touched in public. Thus far, Julian had been incredibly professional about everything. He had been surprised by your initial approach, but as soon as he’d understood what you were looking for, he’d never acted in any way or said anything to make you feel uncomfortable or ashamed about what you were asking for. You rode the elevator in silence, but you noticed that Julian was giving you furtive glances every few seconds. It wasn’t until you’d walked up to the suite’s door — yes, he’d gotten you a goddamn suite — that Julian finally spoke.
“Just so we’re clear. Anything that is going to happen in this room, or not happen for that matter, is fully up to you. You choose that we stop here, that’s totally fine. Got it?”
You stared into his brown eyes, gentle and honest. Was your nervousness that obvious? You scoffed internally. Of course it was. You must have been fidgeting non-stop since the moment you’d seen him.
“Got it,” you replied, infusing as much determination into your voice as possible. You did want this, after all.
Julian nodded with a small smile and pulled a key card out of the inside of his jacket. He pressed it against the door handle, a click sounding instantly as the door unlocked. Taking a step to the side, Julian motioned for you to do the honors and open. With one last deep breath, you pulled down the handle and stepped into the room, only for that breath to whoosh out of you a second later as you took in the room. It was a small apartment rather than a room; it had a small living room dividing the room into two areas, a large bathroom showing through a door to the left, a balcony to the right, and the bedroom across from the entrance. The bed was bigger than any bed you’d ever slept in, and everything in the room showed off what a luxurious place the hotel was.
“Please tell me you didn’t pay for this just for me. Julian, that’s-”
“I didn’t,” Julian assured you with a faint smile.
You stared at him dubiously before looking around you again.
“You got this for free?”
Julian shrugged noncommittally and walked to the mini fridge sitting next to the small couch to peer inside.
You opened your mouth to insist on the matter, since you didn’t want Julian to pay any extravagant amounts of money for you, but Julian beat you to it.
“Let’s just say that I have an agreement with the head concierge. This suite was available tonight, so he gave it to me.”
You suddenly remembered Clarissa saying something along those lines during Chloe’s birthday dinner, and nodded, accepting the explanation. Julian smiled again as you slowly walked up to him while scanning the room and looking out at the city lights twinkling through the balcony doors and the bedroom windows.
“Do you wanna drink something?” Julian asked after he’d shrugged out of his jacket and let you take everything in.
You looked back at him and then the mini fridge, which wasn’t that small for a mini fridge.
“No, I’m fine, thanks,” you said softly, glancing at the couch and putting your purse on it. Biting your lip, you removed the envelope with the money from the purse and placed it on top of the fridge.
Slowly returning your eyes to Julian, you saw him observing you quietly and not even glancing towards the envelope. You tried not to fidget as much as you wanted to under his attention, although your hands twitched at your sides as you forced yourself not to cross your arms.
“Can I touch you?” he asked quietly, tilting his head minutely as he locked his gaze with yours.
“Well, considering what's supposed to happen, I think that you will have to touch me, yes,” you laughed awkwardly and bit over your bottom lip.
Julian came closer, standing toe to toe, and lifted a hand to stroke his fingers along your neck and to your nape.
“I meant like this.”
His voice was low and intimate and sent shivers down your spine, as did his fingers on your already hot skin.
“Oh… um… yes, sure,” you breathed, unable to speak more loudly than a rough whisper.
He smiled, something soft but hiding more. You definitely wanted to find out about what this more entailed.
“Can I kiss you?” His eyes were on your mouth, which parted in surprise at his question.
“Isn't there like — I thought — Shit, I must sound so stupid but… is it, like, a misconception of mine or… I always kinda thought that kissing wasn't… part of this?” you babbled, as your brain tried to deal with his request and the idea of him kissing you.
Julian chuckled, amused, and stroked his thumb along your chin.
“I'm not pretty woman.”
You laughed under your breath and sucked in your lower lip, some of your anxiousness leaving you at his easy joking.
“No… but you're definitely a pretty man.”
Julian's mouth moved into a sweet and genuine grin before he leaned in closer until his lips were only an inch away from yours.
“Some people don't like kissing. And I don't kiss all my clients… But I'd like to kiss you very much, if that's okay.”
His voice was husky and soft, and you were unable to do anything more than stare into his brown eyes and nod. He smiled, soft and pleased, and moved in.
His lips grazed over yours and your eyes fell shut at the feeling. You slowly moved your lips against his, following his lead, as he alternated between pressing them more firmly against yours or retreating until the touch was barely there. Just as slowly, his other hand curled around your waist, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back. It was only then that you finally lifted your hands as well. You slid them up his back and held on to the fabric of his shirt at his shoulder blades. Your grip tightened as Julian tentatively stroked his tongue along your top lip, requesting access to your mouth. Access which you willingly granted. You made a small sound at the first touch of his tongue against yours. How could he make you already so weak in the knees with only a kiss? What would happen when he got to what you were initially paying him for? When his mouth slid towards your jaw, you instantly tilted your head to the side and moaned at the feeling of his teeth teasing along your skin. He ultimately stopped at where your neck met your shoulder and gently sucked at the spot.
“That okay?” he asked, his rougher voice making you shiver.
“Uh huh,” you panted.
After a minute of this, Julian’s mouth climbed up your neck again to reach your lips.
“Can I undress you?”
Your eyes opened a fraction as your fuzzy brain tried to process his question. As you bit your lip, Julian’s eyes slid to your mouth, before they returned to yours with… Could it be desire? Instead of contemplating what his look could possibly mean, you finally nodded in silent agreement before whispering a tiny, “Yes.”
Smiling, Julian kissed you again and rendered you just as breathless as earlier before he even began going for your clothes. He slowly pulled you forward as he walked you towards the bedroom, his lips and tongue still drawing moans and sighs from you. As you reached the bed, Julian pressed one last kiss against your lips, then stepped around you until he was standing at your back. He started removing every piece of clothing with slow and deliberate care, while his mouth teased at your nape and shoulders or behind your ears. Your entire body was wracked by shivers the further he went, until you were a trembling mess once he had you fully naked. His large hands slid over your sides and to your stomach, the heat and touch of them making goosebumps rise in their wake.
“Julian,” you gasped softly, not exactly knowing what you wanted to say. His name just fell from your lips at the gentle care he was handling you with.
“You’re so responsive,” Julian said with a note of wonder, as his fingers trailed up your chest and tickled between your breasts. He let out a soft chuckle as you arched your back and pressed your head against him when he circled his index fingers around your areolas. “So responsive.”
You exhaled sharply and moaned when he took both nipples between thumb and pointer finger and pinched them just the tiniest bit. By now, you could feel the dampness between your legs, and pressed your thighs together as Julian continued his sweet exploration. When you had asked him to make you come with his mouth, you had expected him to do just that; get you on a bed or couch and literally go down to business. Nothing more and nothing less. You certainly hadn’t thought that he’d treat you basically like a lover, touch you in ways that had never gotten this kind of reaction out of you. He’d commented on how responsive you were, but you had never reacted this way with anyone before, which either really said a lot about your previous partners or about Julian’s talent. Maybe a bit of both. One thing was certain, if this was the service he was giving to all his clients, then his reputation was no surprise. At all.
As one of his hands moved down your belly and towards your hips, he paused as he reached just above your mound.
“Can I use my hands too, or just my mouth?” he asked against the shell of your ear, getting yet another shiver out of you.
A wave of heat ran through you, and you felt yourself getting wetter still at the idea of having his fingers right there.
“Yes,” you breathed, before realizing that this didn’t answer his question, and you swallowed before you elaborated as best as you could. “Your fingers.”
Julian smiled against your skin, then licked his way down your neck and back up.
“Spread your legs a bit for me?”
Despite your shaky legs, you did as asked and widened your stance, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt against your bare back. Julian hummed pleasantly and wrapped his arm around you just under your breasts before he let his other hand continue down its original path. Your mouth parted for your gasped out breaths as Julian slid two fingers between your legs to stroke them along your outer lips, as if testing your response. Both of your hands went to the arm around your chest and gripped it, as Julian moved one of the fingers to your center to gently slide it through your folds.
“I think I’ll have a lot of fun making you come,” Julian said in a low tone, as he repeated the motion and lightly circled over your already pulsing clit.
You keened at the touch, your head falling forward as Julian kept teasing and teasing over the same spot, the touch featherlight but still managing to light your nerve endings on fire. All through the haze of need, you still realized that Julian hadn’t said “try to make you come”, instead, he was clearly confident that he would. By how this was going, you were less and less uncertain as well.
“Why don’t you go ahead and get comfortable on the bed?” he suggested after a minute.
Thankfully, and Julian probably knew to do it from experience, he didn’t pull back from you immediately after his request and let you gather your bearings enough to no topple over once he wouldn’t be behind you anymore. He slowly let go of you and let you walk out of his space in your own time. If you were honest with yourself, you could have stayed right where you had been all night, as long as Julian kept talking and touching you the way he’d done so far. Now that he wasn’t touching you anymore, a bit of self-consciousness returned, which stopped you from looking at him as you moved towards the bed and reclined on top of it, feeling suddenly exposed. Especially since he was still fully dressed.
“Look at me,” Julian said softly. It was a request, not an order.
It was this small difference that made you do as asked. You slowly met his gaze, and saw him smiling at you tenderly as he knelt on the foot end of the bed.
“You’re beautiful, Sweetheart.”
You uttered a surprised and shaky laugh and closed your eyes for a moment. When you looked back at him, you gave him a small smile and managed to relax against the pillows. Clearly pleased by your reaction, Julian pressed his other knee to the bed as well and moved up until his was kneeling in front of you. You’d bend your legs at the knees but had squeezed your thighs together. With his eyes on your face, Julian leaned down and placed a small kiss on each of your kneecaps, a tiny smile on his lips. The act had you giggling lightly and exhaling a deep breath. Your lips parted as Julian’s hands drifted down the outside of your thighs, only to move back up again, the touch soothing but also turning you on some more. You observed him as he kept pressing kisses along your knees, silently waiting for you to part your legs. As soon as you did, Julian shot you a pleased smile and proceeded to do the same thing he’d been doing to the outside of your thighs, but on the inside this time, and with his mouth. Air rushed past your lips at the ticklish yet arousing touch. You were unable to tear your eyes away from Julian’s head as he went further down until his mouth stopped at the juncture between hips and thighs. You were panting in anticipation at the idea of Julian finally moving to your center, except that he had other plans. He quickly turned his head to the other side and did the same as with the other leg but in the reverse, kissing his way up, until he was back at your knee. The small smirk he sent you had you groaning and squeezing your eyes shut. He was teasing you deliberately, and you had to admit that you liked it a lot. Your stomach quivered with need. Julian knew how to drive you high without even touching you where you needed him the most.
“Julian,” you breathed, as your fingers gripped the comforter at your hips. “Please?”
Julian ducked his head and shook it with a small, affectionate laugh.
“So responsive,” he mumbled, as if to himself. “Keep your eyes open,” he added with one last glance at you, before he knelt down all the way and pressed a long kiss against your mound.
Your mouth fell open as his tongue slowly flicked out and made its way down your outer lips. He traced patterns over them in such a way that you had no idea what he would be doing next; up, down, left, right, but never in the same order. At the first pass of his tongue through your folds, your eyes opened wide and the air came whooshing out of your throat sharply, accompanied by a surprised moan. Julian went slowly, taking his time as he drew his tongue over every part of you, leaving nothing untouched. When he began suckling at your lips teasingly, one of your hands automatically went to his head, your fingers gripping his soft hair.
“So — sorry,” you gasped at Julian’s grunt, and instantly let go of his hair.
Before you could retreat your hand all the way, Julian’s own hand shot out to snatch your wrist and pull your hand back to his head.
“Go ahead,” he said, looking up at you with intense eyes.
He spoke against your flesh, and the rush of air and small vibrations caused by his words had you uttering a small gasp. Licking your lips, you slid your fingers through his hair again. He had you tightening your grip again a second later when, with his eyes still on you, Julian sucked your clit right into his mouth. You cried out at the unexpected move and the pleasure coming from it. Your hips bucked into his face, and you had the need to apologize for that too, but Julian only groaned and held you tighter to him with his arms around your thighs. He took it easy after the first initial suck, clearly wanting to take his time there as well and not overwhelm you. You were grateful for that, since you were still unsure if hard and fast could do it for you, no matter how aroused you were after the foreplay. He still kept your hips from moving too much, making you take his ministrations with just the right intensity. As he nibbled around your lips before tonguing your clit with light strokes, you felt one of his arms let go of your legs and the hand moving to under your thigh.
“Only my mouth, or can I use my fingers too?” Julian asked again, except that this time, he meant if he could use them at the same time. Just the thought had you moaning without meaning to. How could you say no to having his talented mouth and gorgeous hands on you?
“Both… I want… both,” you got out, panting rapidly.
With his eyes on yours, Julian used his thumb to slowly rub through your drenched flesh, moving it up until he could press it against your clit and circle it a few times. You whimpered, unable to look away from him, and moaned long and high as he slid the thumb back to slip one of his large fingers inside you. As the second one followed, this time, you couldn’t keep your head from falling back and closing your eyes. Julian kept his fingers barely moving for a few seconds, before he had your eyes flying open again when his mouth descended on your clit to flick at it with the tip of his tongue. He sucked and lapped at his continuously, while his fingers started moving for real, curling against your walls with each plunge in and out.
You were… a mess.
Julian had transformed you into a moaning and begging ball of need, your fingers flexing in his hair or the comforter as your hips moved against his mouth and fingers on their own accord. It was with both surprise and no surprise that you felt the tendrils of your orgasm assembling in the spots where Julian was touching you. You could feel them coiling together, gathering and getting bigger and warmer as your belly contracted, and your legs began to shake without your control.
“Julian,” you gasped, sounding nearly panicked at the idea that he could stop and rip this feeling away from you.
But Julian never relented. He worked his mouth and lips like a magician with his best trick, his fingers adding the last element that had you suddenly flying over the edge with a shocked gasp as your hips bucked. Everything went white and silent as the peak of your orgasm hit you, pleasure of the most intense kind you’d ever felt with someone else being the only thing that registered with you. After the more intense part began to fade, you felt Julian kissing the inside of your thigh as he spoke to you in a low and soothing tone. Words of praise hit your ears and made your body glow with another form of pleasure. You slowly opened your eyes as you felt Julian coming to lie next to you on the bed, and turned your head to gaze at his smiling face. Since you were still drifting on the pleasure, you couldn’t even feel any form of embarrassment at the sight of his glistening nose, lips and chin. Julian reached across your body and pulled at the comforter to tug it around you. You smiled drowsily at the gesture and the softness of the fabric against your cooling skin. Julian held himself up on an elbow and put his head on his palm as he watched you. Despite the messy hair, which you were responsible for, the flushed and shiny face, and the wrinkled dress shirt, Julian still looked as gorgeous as always. Maybe even more so because he looked utterly relaxed and at ease. That thought had you wondering about Julian’s needs. Did he get aroused while doing this? Should he do something about it? Or maybe he didn’t get turned on at all and-
No.
You forbid yourself from letting your mind go down that road. This wasn’t a relationship. Julian didn’t have to get turned on by any of it. This had been about you, and Julian had gone above and beyond what you could have ever expected from this.
“Do you ever get actually turned on when you do something like that?” you asked anyway, your mouth not listening to your brain, apparently. “Wait, no, don’t answer that. I didn’t mean to ask this,” you groaned as you closed your eyes, and cursed under your breath.
Julian didn’t seem fazed and chuckled softly. “You’re sure?”
You glanced back at him and huffed in thought.
“I… I wasn’t asking if this…” you made a vague gesture at yourself as a whole. “Turned you on… I mean… I'm not expecting you to be… and I'm aware that escorts down always have sex with their clients but… um… I guess, I’m just… curious,” you sighed at the end of your word vomiting.
“About the mechanics?” Julian smiled, clearly not bothered by your curiosity or babbling.
You thought about that term and nodded. It was a job, after all. Julian shrugged and for a second, he got a far away look that held such a strong note of sadness in it that you nearly stopped him from going on before the look vanished completely and Julian smiled again.
“It’s a question of working with the moment, I guess. Creating a special connection with that person. Setting the mood… and, well, habit is a factor, I suppose. Let's say that being able to get it up is different from being turned on.”
You hummed thoughtfully as you took in the information. You were glad that you didn't ruin the moment and that he was willing to share as much.
“Well, you sure know how to create that connection,” you laughed softly and turned on your side.
Julian snorted softly through his nose and grinned at you, rubbing a hand over your covered arm once you faced him.
“Some connections are much easier to create than others.”
His soft look had you smiling and looking down, feeling suddenly shy again.
“Thank you for doing this, Julian,” you muttered, glancing up at him once more.
His hand moved to your face and his thumb stroked over your cheekbone in a gentle caress.
“It was my absolute pleasure, Sweetheart.”
And you actually believed him. Believed that he’d enjoyed giving you this pleasure, no matter if you’d paid for it.
You stared at him for a while, just looking, and Julian didn’t seem to mind.
“Do you have to get back?” you asked at length, looking around yourself for a clock, but not finding any.
Julian didn’t reply immediately, but he shrugged when you looked back at him.
“I can stay a little while longer.”
That statement had you smiling and closing your eyes. Julian’s fingers played with your hair as you drifted for a while, his presence and the comfortable bed pulling you under.
The next time you opened your eyes, he was gone. You hadn’t even realized that you’d fallen asleep. It couldn’t have been that long, however, since it was still dark outside. Turning around with a long sigh, you glimpsed a folded piece of paper on the bedside table. You sat up to reach for it, the comforter falling around your waist as you moved.
Please stay for as long as you want. The room’s all yours for the night. Take anything you need from the fridge, it’s on me.
Julian
You smiled fondly at the neat script and put the note back on the table.
A nice bath in a fancy hotel room sounded like the perfect way to end this incredible night.
#julian kaye x reader#bernthirst prompt fest#julian kaye#american gigolo#julian kaye x f!reader#reader insert#jon bernthal#mes fics#julian kaye smut
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