#sugar daddy vibes to be very honest with you
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with me, the world is yours
pairing: roman reigns x black reader
authors note: i wrote all of this late summer/early fall and after breaking away from it for so long, i've kind of lost the drive to finish the story in the original way i'd intended to write it, BUT, i am willing to add to it in small ways with little drabbles and such. so whoever reads this, please consider it as background/exposition and or a prologue to whatever gets added to it. if anyone wants to see something added to this specific story please drop me scenarios in my inbox!!
word count: 8k
he liked to walk the floor
carpet smooth beneath the expensive drop of his heel and toe. hubris a limitless force, the broad width of his chest swelling. pride, unsullied, raw and ever simple in its existence. it was a deep elegant staining streak along his being that refused to leave him, unless of course he willed it so. and the casino floor of The Summer Isle Hotel, his hotel, filled with this great thundering of rage and joy and desperation. tiny drops of poker chips like small striking claps. the flipping of cards giving that easy slipping swoop against padded black jack tables. the hum of the room was loud, because the room itself seemed, to his eye, to never end. a tenacious buzzing that simmered his blood quick, excited.
the night was young. restless. ruby red suede heels moving, clever and seductive. the color of champagne at every corner his eyes took him, bubbling rich in flutes and set in the sweet form of silk dresses. pearls sitting tempting over cleavages and diamonds dressing the sturdiness of fingers that roamed the figures of excitable women. emeralds, jades and sapphires, taking every shape against the skin that would have it.
earrings, anklets, rings, bracelets......
whiskey and brandy swishing in glasses......
dry champagne hitting the tongue just right......
bodies hugging, lips kissing, eyes glazed over and just so damn greedy......
this...this ceaseless atmosphere. the un-quelled need to have. to take hold. to win.
roman loved to walk the casino floor of his hotel.
but he hated, absolutely hated cheaters. fucking thieves, cunning-less and eager. their tact lacking just as much as their ambition. roman figured, if their schemes were anymore complex, then he'd feel somehow better about their stealing. he'd at least respect their finesse before using their heads to shove them out the entryway doors of the establishment. and what a fine establishment it was, built off the sweat of his brow, his, others, blood and many tears. owning a hotel on the vegas strip was no easy feat and he'd be damned if someone disrespected it. disrespected his work. his vision.
...so then why?...
your eyes flit over to a table just some feet away.
...why did he let you play your games?...
a man in muted clothes gives you a signal. many silent signals, ones roman was once oblivious to, but now overly familiar with, as if he created them himself.
...four seconds of a stare. one mississippi, two mississippi, three mississippi, four. four meaning spade, given they were following the alphabetical order of the suits.
the man, face more punchable by the minute, touches his nose. meaning, the spade is a face card.
and the fucking dealer is young, flips up his card too easily, exposing just before he deals.
roman wants to do many things. to the man, the dealer, and the other pairs around the other blackjack tables following the same system. his fingers curl, ball inward till his palm pains him but his eyes remain as they always did. fiercely void, teetering delicate on some fine line of violence, until you move. speak.
"blackjack", you call. with just enough disinterest that prides the flow of his blood. makes him smirk.
"they've all been at it for days", paul bristles.
"end it", roman calls, walking away.
---
you despised most men, despised their presence, looking at them, unnecessarily speaking to them, breathing the same air as them. they'd bred more trouble than they were ever worth and always, without fail, served up to you, on some disgusting dish, half baked and ill formed, the least discreet of charms, to win even slivers of your attention. it was the usual lousy song and dance, artless and heavy handed. you despised most of them, because they led you to places like these with promises too alluring to ignore. all you wanted, want still, is the money. its all you need.
and they'd all but manhandled you from the casino floor to a room. two men, one barely distinguishable from the other, but then again...they donned shades that matched their disapproving looks. lips turned in scrutiny. but what the fuck did they know anyway?... fuck them and this...this room. a holding of some sort. walls white, chairs black, a purposeful minimalistic touch crafted to intimidate. and it was working...even if just slightly.
your chair creaks, wooden and anxious. you hated this, always would. this forceful feel of surrendering.
and you don't speak first, but because of that neither does he.
grey's scattered about his beard, scarce but still there. slight face lines...stress maybe?...and tawny specks living as freckles. he's groomed to perfection but still there's something about him, a flare in his eye that lends itself to a buried ruggedness. a meticulous sort of brutality.
and he's just sitting there...
...close to you but not too close. enough to open you with his eyes, but not enough to leave you breathless...
he's practiced in this. patient.
...he can't do this all day... you think, till his body sits more comfortable than before. he will if he has to, and he will. to prove a point. to win.
the room is cold. sterile. you shiver some, the first to say anything.
"i didn't do anything wrong".
"then why so defensive?"
you felt some ways away from lethal and the reasons for such a feeling mounting more every second. forming knots in your belly, heat and pressure. guilt and a sickly intrigue. his voice was rich and deep. smooth and commanding. if in another place, at some other time, you could see yourself falling for that voice, lulled and taken by it. you hate it, the hot twinge it drives into your skin. you grow sharp, words throwing like daggers.
"if you were me, sitting where i am, you'd be defensive too".
"i could have you brought up on charges", he presses. toying really. flip and flopping between seriousness and sarcasm. the heels of his shoes click the floors, and you fall slow into the creak of the chair, pulling away from the size of him as he approaches. he bends, levels with you, but even this feels like a looking down upon. "cheating and swindling. maybe even restitution".
"what?" you start. you cant help your self. "not nice enough for a little jail time".
you see his jaw shift. "smart mouth".
you move in with a sudden spell of boldness. "fuck you". your lips twist to spit against the floor. "and fuck your casino".
it's quick. harsh. his fingers long and curling at your jaw. he's warm, grip steady despite the push of your hands. he feels the fight in you, regardless of how soft you are to the touch. skin tender, like untouched feathers.
but still... that damn mouth of yours.
"you tried remember", mirthless but not.
"don't fucking touch me", you rant. hitting at him harder. attempting without end to pry away his fingers, until finally he lets go.
and it's rather shortsighted but brave nonetheless, the way your feet carry you to go at him. to do what exactly? you're not to entirely sure. but it doesn't matter much anyways, not when he's this mountain of a man. herculean and spiting. resolute in fucking with you a little for whatever enjoyment he can get out of the situation, and you know this to be true when your momentum to him is soured, a scream bleeding coarse through the walls.
the dense walls block most of the action, but the scream of pain is undeniable. the faint crush of bone breaking through to where you are, fixing you to the floor where you stand in some sickly mixture of fear and surprise.
"the money or their fingers i asked them". his stare is heavy. daunting. "some of them chose money, but of course they get to keep neither". he walks to the single entry-exit door. body taking up most of the frame. "paul, escort the young lady back to her room".
you scoff on instinct. hating the condescension his tone takes. you shift by them both in a way that knocks your shoulders into their arms. paul's chalky, round face as amused as his boss.
"i can escort myself".
---
amongst the other's lining the vegas strip, The Summer Isle Hotel is the second largest. and where the floors lack that bold blood red carpeting, there is laid instead a fine marbling, in the endless halls and walkways, polished enough to see even the faintest of facial details. the ceilings venture high, littered with crystal chandeliers and in the walls and on ceilings are engraved these renaissance inspired paintings. there is this rhythm to the place, something archaic and forever far away, that is meant to always be desired. as people sip champagne, drunk and more verbose by the second, bleeding their pockets dry to their hearts content, the artistry of the hotel leaves them wondered and greedy. that even as they eat the finest food and drink the oldest wines, there is more to indulge in. more to have, to reach that unreachable place of pure luxury.
it was extravagant and all consuming, and pieces of you wondered what it all felt like. to never want or lack for it, because it was just simply there, at the edge of your fingertips.
the hotel was big enough to get lost in, big enough to lose others in, so when paul sits himself at your table for two, security detailing not too far, just at the edges of the bar, you grow weary and annoyed. he'd been looking for you.
you swirl your drink with a cocktail straw. feeling the pressure of his stare. "im being babysat now?"
his hands fold with an instinctive diplomacy.
"just call it reassurance".
reassurance...that was bullshit. you didn't need to be told things more than once, especially when the talk was as loud and showy as it was earlier. "he made it pretty clear what can happen. i'm a cheater, not stupid".
"there isn't always much of a difference between the two".
you hum, sipping what's left of your drink. "if you're gonna chat me up, buy me another drink then". his brow raises, as if in waiting. you sigh, annoyed at having to perform niceties. "please".
its expert and concise, a look and just under a handful of gestures to the bartender, but his awareness never wavers from the already empty cocktail glasses where vodka-cran once filled. three to be exact. this fourth, he hopes, would be your last, as it was now that the glazing over of your eyes was coming underway. and he'd originally been an advocate for roman's earlier display of brutish prowess, and still is in all honesty, but seeing you, it did unsettle him in very few but poignant ways. he knew enough to know that you were attempting a drowning of frenzied nerve. sitting here, he hopes you understand, like everything else on the strip... its just business.
paul shifts. bringing his chair slightly closer. "the system you use on the blackjack tables, how long did it take to come up with it?"
"not long, maybe a few minutes", you start. sipping and thinking on whether to indulge him or not. but it seems to you now that the whole trip has gone to complete shit so why not. "it's all about assigning basic signals to cards but it's the memory part that fucks people up. memory and performance anxiety". paul chuckles at the absurdity and you grin, slightly pleased at his interest. "practicing in a warehouse versus being on a casino floor, at a table. it's different. anything can happen".
you push away the drink. satisfied. paul's eyes turn soft, with what you think is relief. why relief?
"and then theres the whole finding a weak dealer situation", you continue. "no offense, you guys have a better looking hotel but the venetian runs tight security".
"noted".
its your turn to shift in your chair. asking the question you've been wanting the answer to since the moment happened. "why didn't he break my fingers?"
"who knows. maybe he's waiting for you to get stupid", paul jokes.
"you either are or you aren't. no in between".
"that means you'll stay put then?"
you scoff. "what, i'm on lockdown?"
"the boss says you're free to do as you please. just no stealing".
you smile coy, standing to leave. "you wouldn't mind covering the tab then? can't seem to find my wallet".
---
thief. cheater. schemer. you've heard many names and resented none of them, because at their root, the truth remained what it was. it was artistry. and if you're clever enough, sharp enough, quick enough, finessing could be masterful. the constant putting together of a challenge, a game. and it was practical to love games, because good players win.
but this? this was not practical. he was not practical.
he seemed to be playing a different game entirely. you figure solely to spite you. a figurative spitting in the face if you will.
every waiter of every bar in every corner of the hotel knew your cocktail order. vodka-cran with lime, extra ice. a splash of club soda.
the security detail seemingly doubled overnight and each of them never failed to greet you. a smile and a head tipping nod.
casino floor personnel, always with a subtle but sudden direction, pointed out to you the slots that paid out the biggest and the most often.
the restaurants you dined in refused to give you the check and when you asked why, flustered and confused, they gave the same answer every time.
"because the boss said so".
complementary goods in your hotel room. aged wines and sweets.
tickets to shows you neither wanted to attend or cared for.
if you were a different woman, who lived a different life, you figure she'd find this every bit as enticing as it was. enchanting even. grand gestures made out of some sickly sweet distant admiration. but you were not her and most men you knew or had known only did things; provided, loved, cared, with condition. so only one questioned remained. why? and after days of guessing games, a stomach turning foreboding shifted swiftly to irritation. he'd upped the ante finally, moving from these fairly small gestures, which to you were not small at all, to something a little bit too much for you to take.
and you wonder now if he knows that he's reached your end, knocking hard at the ceiling of your limits. body simmering hot with this slow to finish unraveling feeling. as if at any moment unknown to you, you'll break in some uncontrolled fit of rage. he was becoming more persistent, silent still but more persistent and the affects of such persistence were all around you. soft wool carpeting where marble floors ended, a detailed fretwork spanning every corner of the ceilings, and french sliding doors connecting you to a wide stretched pool looking over the vegas strip.
"the boss sends his regards", housekeeping said after it was all said and done.
from the 6th floor straight up to the 39th, he'd gotten them to move everything you'd bought with you. your clothes, shoes, purses, from a studio room you could just barely pay for, to the penthouse suite.
all of this, and a tiny note atop the dresser.
enjoy your stay - roman
"roman", you try aloud.
it isn't till the next day that you realize he's quite fond of leaving these little letters. words thin and cursive. messages brief enough to never reveal even a semblance of his thoughts.
friday morning his words scribble a small card stuck to the center of a bouquet of white roses.
white desdemona's. enjoy the roses - roman
you struggle for sometime in the bright silence of the morning. the busyness of the vegas strip bleeding a hum in through the sliding french doors. it wouldn't be hard, indulging him. cling fast and easy to soft petaled gestures, quelling finally that wayward need for a romantic sort of fascination. buried so long ago but clawing upwards tirelessly still, begging for relief. but it would be more sensible to deny yourself, which in the same breath meant denying him. tearing that pristine white card in two and setting the roses out to sit just in front your suite door. to send a message, simple but strong, enough for him to understand.
a sudden knock urges you to settle into a resolution quickly. quicker than you were prepared for. the white card now in your hand tearing into two pieces with a twist of your wrist as you go to open the door.
its house keeping.
you place the torn paper in their hand before stepping out of the suite, furthering more down the hallway to the elevator by the second. the roses themselves were too lovely to get rid of anyways.
"tell your boss i send my regards".
---
would you believe them?
a less than modest woman from the north east, standing above the illustrious wonder of the vegas strip. and from your glass flute a slow, smooth sip, along with some restless awakening of a dream, even if it last only for a moment. an imagining from this high place, that with a deep sure breath like some figure from beyond with a vast primordial power, you gave life to this idle desert, and with sun and sand, birthed from pure will what they call fabulous las vegas. but this must be what he feels, day after day, night after night, standing above the rest, the staunch rush of pride, like something simmered well into the run of his blood. for you it was this endless day dream, the money, the power, the access, but for him, it seemed real. it was real.
and still the question remains... would you believe them? a cunning woman, wrapped strapless in leather fine enough to please even the most marred skin, and heels that extend the vicious form of your legs.
just tuesday you were cursing the good name and fortune of this place with your dna splat just mere inches from his shoes, and now here you are friday, waiting for him.
if they, whoever they are, told you sometime ago that you'd be here, you wouldn't have believed them.
he'd done well to send another card, and with it, another gift.
the rendezvous. 7pm - roman
he'd gotten house keeping to do more of his dirty work, the poor bastards, but even their precision was daunting. the placement of the card, and the gift, and the complementary wine, and a single blooming stargazer. the petals dainty and blushing. it'd left you standing deep in a well of emotion, finding everything he'd left, and your bed taken by a box. the lid pulled off quickly by that gnawing urge to indulge him. and despite his initial brutish behavior and persistence, it was safe to say that the man was not void of taste.
but it would be more sensible to deny yourself, like a chant, it'd echoed, and your fingers ran over the plains of something silky. a dress, cool raven color, strong and subduing, but the fabric was so fine to the touch it'd felt criminal to hold. and with it had lived perfumes, bottle after bottle, as if he feared you'd somehow go without. and... fuck... sitting, waiting really, in a satin pouch... two pairs of goddamned diamond earrings. one pair smaller than the other, but both far more delicate than most things you'd ever owned. and soon the short warm swell of excitement had grown cold and hesitating. why was he doing this? what did he want from you?
they were questions you intended to get answers to and it seemed if they weren't answered now then who knows when, unsure if you'd ever see him again.
"you didn't like the roses"
your heart takes to some quick instinctual beating. a ragged fraying of nerves just off the simple sooth and strength of his voice. before, in that silent white room, you were sharp, aware of him but the power of his aura did nothing to sway your wanting to see him pained by your indifference to him. now though... it was so damn different now it seemed, as you were a small ways away from a purely formed nervousness.
you turn just enough to give him your profile, sipping slow at the flute, steeling one buzz under your skin away with another. "i'd like them more if they were red". you face him finally, staying leant up against the balcony railing of the restaurant. "but it seems i don't have much option or choice here".
"no need to choose when everything is the best".
"that doesn't sound self important at all".
"doesn't make it any less true".
champagne has never tasted so good, you think, sipping and fighting the impulse to look away from him. his eyes softer than before but still lying in them are traces of searching for some unspoken truth. it was a much more subdued attempt compared to before, every pass his eyes made about your own, short flickers to your lips, the way you clutched the glass, your hair, your jewelry, the dress you were wearing, like a gentle pealing back of a layer. less scrutiny out of a short bout of anger and more of a learning. he'd come to the conclusion after watching you leave the white room all those days ago that he wanted to learn you.
here now, watching you sip champagne, he wondered if you'd let him.
"listen", you start. taking a closer step to him, with some new found form of resolution, and its hard to keep this will strong and steeled away when he's this close. scent heady and soothing to your senses. "i don't know what you're thinking, but i do know that you got me a lot of fucked up for just hauling my shit-"
"the suite is yours for as long as you want it"
"i'm not paying for it"
his grin is warm. inviting. long fingers slipping the flute from your hold after its been emptied to set it down at a nearby table. "it's yours anyways".
your confusion is palpable, lives in the way you retreat closer to the banister again, for fresher air void of him. in hopes to think more clearly. "just the other day you practically had me hemmed up and now you're-"
"that was different. it was business".
you scoff. "business my ass, fuck you-"
"and fuck my casino, i know".
it's your go to insult it seems, this time having less of an affect on him, but still there is something there. a small stinging pain bruising the very large stain of ego.
you look to him with searching eyes of your own. "so the wine... and-and the roses and just... everything, i mean thats?..."
"gifts. just gifts. not to be payed back ever".
your face fixes in a fashion similar to the first time you spoke to him. eyes defensive and unsure, brows pulling in for a full measure of scrutiny. "why?"
"have dinner with me".
you press again. "why?"
"because", he starts, with a streak of vulnerability. "all of my attention is taken up by a casino resort on the strip of one of the busiest places in the world but for some reason, for the last 72 hours or so i've only been able to think clearly about you".
your eyes roll off instinct despite the flutter feeling in your gut. "am i supposed to be flattered?"
"its the truth".
roman hadn't been a man who lent himself to believing in chance or possibility for sometime. if he wanted something, or hell even someone, it simply happened, because thats the way it had been, since the first burst of the resorts success till before this very moment. when he spoke, the world of the resort opened and bent, twisted and curved till it formed to his liking, so much until the effects of his wants rippled through the whole of the strip till they echoed miles away, through the rolling of nevada desert dust. but you...
the click of your heels, the soft sway of your hips, the way words twisted from your lips comfortable because you knew yourself well enough to know that regardless of his capabilities you'd do something drastic and a bit ways away from reckless before ever letting him get the best of you.
that bravery, an unflinching flame, new and unpredictable and different and more exciting than anything he'd seen in sometime.
whether you were leaving or staying, he follows you and savors even the cut of your eyes. it's quick and fierce, unsure of its power but stripping the resolve of him all the same. and of course a curt look is all you give him, as he opens the door to the rendezvous and follows you in, not a word to him as waiters and well off patrons pass the both of you by. a leisure walk around pristine white cloth dressed tables and velvet chairs, each of your steps like some small conquering of a widely secured territory. his territory. you move more sure of yourself by the second and it rushes his warm and wanting.
with no real hurry, roman pulls out the chair you've picked to sit in just before you can make to do it yourself, finding himself closer than he needs to be, just some inches from your face. each breath in, sweet and tempting. the perfume he bought you...
you sit without a word, not even a thank you, and he finds himself more drawn in by the second.
it isn't until he sits himself that roman realizes you've chosen a seat at the center of the restaurant. and whether it's purposeful or not, it's damn sure fitting.
a trivial orbit of faces and voices.
"you don't take no for an answer do you?"
"when you're where i am, after a while, you stop asking and getting asked. you never even have to hear no".
its arrogant, eye roll worthy even, but you don't miss the truth in it. the pull of his brows together, lending themselves to a pure honesty. and it's hard, quelling that pull up of envy. to be so well off, so rich, never having to answer to any one. i wish, you thought. i wish
your finger trails along the fine table cloth. "i must have you so out of sorts then, how rude of me".
"it's fun", he grins. a single finger signaling someone. " 'm learning my manners again".
and there was this fidelity to his words ......everything is the best because i am the best...... a quality that spilled over into everything that he touched, spoked to, looked at, and did. it was this undeniable thing, a force, that caused such a natural hesitation in you, but also this impulse to fight. you wanted to struggle against him, war with the easy diligence of him till he folded. cracking under the weight of his hubris till large fragmented pieces ground to dust. but you would not win that battle today, no, not as waiters execute their level of precision, plate after plate set atop the table in such a meticulous manner that it seemed to be planned. a well thought scheme with the intent to impress. dish after dish, revealed, one after the other smelling more divine than the one before it.
the waiter, an adorably eager young man, falls into a spiel about the wine you can't be bothered to care about. his work of a perfect pour all for nothing. it nearly pains you. "i'll take a water please".
the waiter flattens. a curt nod as he hurries away.
"it's vintage", roman says. seemingly unaffected by your disinterest in old aged wine.
" 'm sure it is". eyeing him. the sip his lips take. "seems you've had things all planned out. what if i'd said no?"
"someone else's lucky night then. a free meal on the house".
"do you have a ready made answer to everything?".
"i am who i am. it's impossible not to".
the cut of your knives into plated steaks reveals this smooth buttery finish. the meat tender against the blade and more so to the taste. and it takes everything in you not to moan or go cross eyed, not when he's watching your every move. seemingly studying and committing your eyes and lips and words to memory. no, you simply chew. sip at your water and live as quiet in your delight as possible. till of course it hits you, not as hard or sudden as one would expect, but it's more of a washing over. a stilled piecing together that quickens your pulse and frowns out the apathy on your lips.
you stare down at your plate. a short ways away from dumbfounded. "you know how i like my steak".
even the way he chews is perfect. measured and steady. a luxurious sort of etiquette steeped into the make of him. but you find that his manners are selective, as he doesn't even bother to meet your eyes. low sitting and accusing. he chews as you did, but with more leisure. the slice of his knife and the clink of his fork fighting against the waiting you do in the silence. even when he works to indulge you, he abides in his own time, lets you wrestle with the trivial chatter of the room the way you did not so long ago with the abundance of his gifts.
he wipes his mouth with a cloth. a feigned unawareness about him.
"the chefs know how you like your steak".
you scoff. maybe your tenth eye roll of the night. " and the bartenders so conveniently know how i like my cocktails too".
he sips his wine easy like he would water. "they have an eye for detail, thats why they work here".
"or maybe", you start. fork an obnoxious clinking at the plate as it drops dramatic from your fingers. "just maybe it's someone else's eyes they're looking through. someone else's words they're following".
"maybe".
...so fucking goddamn frustrating... you think. eyeing the full table of food. and it's less anger and more confusion, that slow to finish fraying of nerves. these things that he does, says, that leave you emotionally inconvenienced.
"you don't know how insane it feels, night after night, trying to pick up a check for dinner and the waiter refuses your money. it feels like stealing".
he chuckles. "something you should be used to then".
"fuck you. i only steal out of necessity".
and this was it, the thing from which his curiosities where born, feverish in his fingers. an ache to flex broad and wide, to do and make till need was just a distant word laying dead at the recesses of your mind. necessities were strange, and if it became flesh and bone with legs and the will to speak it too would be a stranger to him. roman had not wanted for anything in some time, and if he felt in himself that he needed something, the readiness by which it came to him revealed only that he did not need it, but that he wanted it, in that covetous way that a man wants another mans woman. and so it became natural, that others around him would not need for anything either.
the way he's settled into the velvet of the chair becomes less leisure, leaning in slightly with a more focused determination. "what do you need?"
your smile is wry. unconvinced. "like you care".
"if you could have anything, what would it be?"
the list was endless it seemed, a question you'd asked and answered thousands of times and then thousands of times again. cars, houses, shoes, clothes, jewelry, yachts, boats. trivial and obnoxiously expensive things even, if it meant that you could feel the freedom of just being. it was an easy thing to answer, but so hard still when all the answers were far away from you, never even brushing faint at your fingertips.
and he thinks in this moment, your eyes softening, this is the most serious he's ever seen you.
"i wanna be comfortable. enough not to worry about anything".
"and why aren't you there yet?"
"i tried", a finger of yours slipping against the grip of the cutting knife. "but you stopped me".
but how could he question you? was your drive, your diligence to get what you wanted not legitimate because it was not legal? and with this, the question forms clear again, why the fuck were you here?
"a man at the top asking me why i'm all the way down here", your head shaking in this sly build of indignation. he had some nerve. "you don't see how shitty that is?"
roman feels something in him lessen. a deep pulling away that reflects in the flare that takes to your eyes. an edge that leaves the room a bit cooler than before. how could he have been so stupid and blind? judging you for the very thing that had left him in this whirl of curiosity and admiration.
" 'm not tryin to offend you".
"but here i am. offended".
he shifts, reaches the wide stretch of his palm to lay open against the table. an olive branch close enough for you to reach out and take. "let me make it up to you".
you consider him. the outstretch of his palm. fingers strong and waiting. the way his eyes settle into this mild sort of kindness that still lends itself to something not so pleasing. the warm lights amongst the crystals of hanging chandeliers casting along his face in such a way that it shadows his eyes some but still shines against his features. speaking so clearly to the deepened well of his hubris, always revealing and hiding itself in his own time. he is a sure man, wanting only what he wants, but seeks it in such a diligent way that it suffocates the things, the people that he desires. but maybe, just maybe, if you leave him wanting, challenged and needy, he would give you everything.
your finger tips move to tease at his. this faint dancing along his palm. "if you're gonna send me gifts, make sure it's things i like". touch a sly caress at his wrist. "i'm not a wine girl, and i hate seeing flowers die".
he lets your touch play along his skin. revels silent in the rush it sends, a jetting stream into his blood.
"what do you prefer?"
you slip off a ring that shines against his pinky. fitting it onto your middle one. your stare is this rapturous thing. hypnotic and breath taking, and he understands why you've probably gotten away with so much till now.
"i have a sweet tooth".
"i can work with that".
you hum into a sigh, considering still. your hand balling his own to close that reaching opened palm before you settle back into your chair. more eased now than you've been the whole night.
"i hope so for your sake".
and roman does not hesitate often, certainly never out of fear. he doesn't mind the manner of his words much, or their phrasing and the life it breathes into his expression. he doesn't suffer much to care for the thoughts of others and their own words, unless of course it somehow seeks to exist against his money, the resort or the greatness of his name. roman wasn't fearful, no, but being here with you, caution takes him all the same. like those tentative seconds where the lucky struck gambler is suspended in possibility, waiting for the dealers reveal.
his words take to a mindfulness, as if each word is brought out selectively. "has anyone ever offered, to take care of you. buy you things. take you places".
you laugh in that small uncontrollable way, when something, after so much confusion, becomes clear. because of course this is what he wants. of-fucking-course.
"some have. i always told them no".
"why?"
to think of it, even if just slightly, annoyed you. "conditions. restrictions. rules. you can't go there, you can't do this. that's not care".
"control is an acquired taste".
a grin slips into the seam of your lips. curious. "is it yours?"
his tongue peaks, a short run against his teeth, and something deep within, this buried and slow to rise feeling tightens at your core. maybe it wouldn't hurt to have a taste of wine.
his grin matches yours. "not if it ain't yours".
"out of all the woman everywhere, why me?"
"you try to steal from me, you spit on my casino floor, and you ain't missed a chance yet to tell me how you feel".
"we're into degradation i see", you joke. and it gets a laugh you think not many have experienced. it's something sincere, crinkling for some seconds the corners of his eyes. and despite the short bout of fondness that forms at hearing him laugh, he's got to be joking right? pulling your leg hard for an even bigger laugh. "i'm a thief roman".
"a very transparent thief. i don't meet people like that a lot".
it's a losing fight but still, it's hard not to push back.
"you barely know me".
"i could know you, if you let me".
"what's in it for you?"
sex, you think. when he's given you enough of his money and access, he'll ask for sex.
"your company".
---
riverside, california was not the vegas strip, and by all intents and purposes did not claim to be the notorious sin city. the breeze here was something warm and patient. a soft flowing about, satisfied only by its own directionlessness. but in a small whispered taunting way, it was unadulterated. the vegas strip was loud, this harsh numbing sort of droning that buried the more subtle, truthful noises and those skittish undercurrents in the skin that lent to fervent thoughts and ideas. the silence of riverside and the quaint rooftop air of antonella's was this exposing thing. and you'd come west to unashamedly connive your way into some money, but now you were here, unsure of the minutes, hours and even days to come, with him. sipping at coffee, and picking gentle but anxious at his diamond ring, feeling as aimless as the riverside wind.
and then, seemingly from no where, his shoes click against the cobblestone, steps slow and uniformed, a pace all his own. and as he sets down a fine spread atop the table; meats, cheeses, fruits, and small cakes, he can sense rather acutely this refusal to acknowledge him. from you, an amusing fight; one leg crossed over the other, a fidgeting in your fingers and this far away look else where, feigning indifference.
antonella's at noon - roman
he'd written as he liked to do, and yet it was a little passed two in the afternoon. the drive over to riverside lengthy and unknowing.
"you're late"
" 'm sorry?"
roman is amused but taken a back all the same. in the years of his success, lateness was not something to treat with avoidance or fear but just another trivial idea. something purely subjective. or maybe it was because things just ran on his time, started and stopped when his desires had not been met or when they'd exceeded his expectations. it was new to think that something like that was so bothersome for you.
he sits in the empty space of a double seated chair beside you. the wood fine and stripped, carved with intricate designs. his arm falling against the top. your bodies closer now than they've ever been.
"if i'm-", you shift to face him. eyes taken by the tan of his cheeks, sprinkled with freckles. lips full, and beard thick. his eyes softer than normal but still traces of an intensity to them. he's beautiful, even in his arrogance and persistence. "if i'm gonna do this. whatever this is, you have to be on time. i'm not a woman who likes to wait".
his eyes drop to the plump of your lips. existing there this thin tempting line of gloss. "yes ma'am".
and his stare lingers, a gentle taking in of the slight pout forming into the line of your lips and the soft round out of your cheeks. your eyes under the cast of the sun, more ethereal than not, but guarded some still in this impatient game of waiting for something that will quell that burden of unknowing. the small tells of your anxiety live in the way you play aimlessly at that ring you took from him, or rather the ring he let you take. even with your demands that fight against his own desires and your quick wits and your curt looks and your own bouts of teasing, you still hesitate for fear of the feelings that come with great disappointment. he wonders now if his words for you are not enough, and that though it had been enough for mostly everyone, you are not them. you are new and different and he'd have to treat you as such.
roman cuts a piece of cake easy, and on a fork it waits for you to indulge in it.
"taste this", he gives, handing you the fork.
"what is it?"
"panettone". his voice deep and delicate about the shape of the vowels, taking on a slight accent in reverence of the treat. italian?, you wonder.
the cake is buttery and sweet, a taste of fruit with each pass it takes over your tongue and theres something there as you sit with the taste of it that tells you that it's homemade. its a perfect mixture of everything, as if the baker had made it a thousand times, and then a thousand times more.
he reaches to pick off a piece of fruit with a slim pick, sleeves loose and revealing the beginnings of what you think is a full arm of connected tattoos. you wonder how far they travel, and where they possibly might end.
the strength of espresso wafts against the flow of a simple breeze as he takes to refilling the teeny size of your cup and then a splash of his own to taste.
he sighs, satisfied at the warmth of it. "you like it?".
"mhmm", you give. a sincerity lining your lips as you give him a small smile. it's something new, relaxed. an earnestness lacking that natural wary look you wear when you look at him. "you're taking my words to heart. i like a man who listens".
"i aim to please".
you slip the ring back onto your finger, less fidgety with it now. an easy settling of the tensity in your shoulders that allows your body to rest closer to him. facing inward so that the cross of your leg touches his. and it's this innocent, dainty step towards intimacy. where the gentle quiet of the day fills the air with a more tender possibility. guards are fallen away, more than before if anything, and your eyes shimmer warm and a little more accepting. i'll try, you think to your self, to believe him even if only for a moment. i'll indulge him.
"you like that ring?", he asks. staring at the way it shines against your finger.
at the mention of it, you twist the band about your finger.
"my mother thought the best thing a woman could do for herself was have jewelry. it's the only thing that doesn't disappoint". nostalgia a fine thread in your words. remembering the woman that taught you everything. and he sees the soft way your cheeks turn up. feels a need to keep them that way, but even more so when you look at him. "it's a little big, but it goes with my earrings".
my...my earrings. claiming fully the things that he'd gifted you.
his longer, stronger fingers reach for yours, for the ring, seemingly possessed by memory. and his touch is a light caress. featherweight and reverential. a shiver strums your skin there. teeming with the want for a heated relief found only in another pass of his finger, till it folds, along with the others, his over yours, to lock in an embrace.
"i had it made ten years ago", he tells you. "about a month after the resort opened. a gift to myself".
his thumb dances with a sweet brushing along your skin, with nothing particularly amorous, but there is comfort here, in your touch, a stranger. the way skin passes slow and steady to feel the other, lax and patient.
"it's still beautiful", your hand dropping to your lap, locked with his still, and the pull brings him just that much closer. a comfortable leaning in that gives way to him taking in more readily the heady sweetness of your perfume. his eyes and his mouth something like a foot away, but feeling so very close, so much so that it steals breaths. kickstarts that harsh beating in your blood, a drumming pulse in your fingers. you wonder if he feels it.
"it doesn't disappoint".
you smile. interested in him. "how old were you then?"
"28. you?"
you can see him at 28. untainted by the burning pace of vegas. his eyes ever intense but in them more of a smolder. his hair longer, with no flecks of grey. more unsure and less persistent. grasping at things that come to him so easily now.
"24".
and he'd love to meet 24 you. maybe not as quick witted but clever still. fast in your schemes with a maybe not so predictable temper. but still, a covetous touch to the things you wanted. needed.
"causing trouble where?", he chuckles.
"new york".
he looks at the ring. loose on your finger.
"ill have the ring resized to fit".
you shake your head. unsure. "it's something special. i don't wanna take that from you".
"you don't ask and you don't say thank you. if i give it, it's yours. simple".
he is as serious now as the day you first met him, and beyond all of your own doubting, there's this burden to believe him. the quiet fervor of his words and his touch, the warm glow of him amongst the day light and the unwavering hold his eyes take to yours. and his thumb runs a simple caress over where your pulse quickens harsh at the inside of your wrist, from surprise and need. a soft lulling that only seems to stoke the flame of a slow but sure to rise desire. it's yours, words promising and unfazed by the endless unknowns of tomorrow. so much so that he proves it, slips an envelope from his pocket till it finds its way into your hand.
and the envelope is mere trash compared to whats inside. a sleek black card, engraved with his own name.
your fingers slip at it. failing somewhat to hide the growing excitement. but there is disbelief here also, coming alive quick but dying quicker the more you feel the fixed weight of his decision, heavy in his eyes and warm at his touch. his intensity is a power all on its own, working well to lull you in. to subdue. a twinge at your core tells you that you are not immune. "is there a limit?"
"why would there be?"
you chuckle. "you're serious?"
"dead serious".
there's that twinge again, lingering hot and teasing. scares you away from his eyes and the tender hold of his touch, but he doesn't falter, even when your fingers leave the tangle of his. and then, caution breaks against the luxurious sort of excitement teeming quick, tightens into your fingers so that the card feels heavy. too fine to hold in your hands. but still, he remains, sitting with an endless patience, sure that he will win you over fully. if not today then soon.
the moment still seems too good to be true for you.
you sigh. "this all isn't just some round about way of trying to fuck me is it?"
but he doesn't hesitate. amused even.
"that only happens if you want it to sweetheart".
and it takes courage not to imagine it. the details of a daydream where his lips slip against your skin, hands strong and leading as they push and prod to his will, till you're just how he wants you, playing in these fast to leave flashes in your minds eyes. you think though, under his heavy gaze, that it's something to wonder about when he's not this close and determined to commit your every expression to memory. so you steel your face, fingers grabbing his cup to sip at his espresso, the curiosity of your daydreams attempting with a desperate sort of vigor to run away from you. they barely succeed.
with roman, you were in for something interesting.
#roman reigns#roman reigns fanfiction#roman reigns fanfic#roman reigns x reader#roman reigns x black reader#roman reigns fic#roman reigns x female reader#sugar daddy vibes to be very honest with you#joannasteez
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Details About Your Life-Partner 18+
🩷These Are Details about your Partner Or Crush. However, you take it and remember this is a general reading. You are responsible for your own decision and I'm just giving you my opinion. These are all four piles about your Partners. Enjoy reading. What take resonates and leaves the rest.✨ where your Partner Originated from as Starseeds.
Pile 1 💋
•They have their solo mission on this earth. It is Your Partner's birthright to be wealthy, famous, and have a mad abundance. They are Blue Ray Starseed or Andromedan Starseed.No longer in union with someone else. They are moving forward. They have a strong sense of humor. Probably into BDSM. Your Partner is Dominant. They are self-aware of themselves and others around them. Or they are working hard to look out for signs from their guides. They are the CEO of their company. I think they like to wear suits. Very smart. They are loyal and very honest they are. Protective, and Dominant. I heard some of y'all partners are a beast. I mean a BEAST! Not their appearance but their aura is very beast-type. Like I heard that they would be your monster. Tatted up! Some of y'all partners tatted up from head to toe. Or neck to feet. They are an old soul. Very in tune with their self. I think some of y'all partners are into Kemetic religion or interested in Kemetic. They have brown eyes or green eyes. But they are very handsome men. Or pretty boy. I think some of them are gangsters. I think they like wearing suits. Yes, your partner is a Soulmate! Ending a lot of cycles. Rebirth themselves. I heard they going through a tower moment. Their love language is Physical touch or Acts Of Service. They are wounded still I think they just got out of a bad relationship. They are a fighter. I heard they are a sucker for love. But that doesn't mean they aren't stupid. They are hella passionate. They know to rock your world upside down. They are your star-crossed lover and also they are your soul family. Or you are part of their soul tribe. They feel right now lack of energy 🔋. Cuz of this heartbreak. I heard “ I'm waking up.” They are waking up. Again, you are their romantic soulmate. Or they are looking for their soulmate. They are probably in college or going back to college. They do have a fast lifestyle. They are animated very goofy they are. They'll make you laugh. They'll make their friends laugh. Again, High-Vibe Soulmate! They are high-vibe soulmates. So they feel like something is missing their whole life. Your Partner is an old man. Not like grandpa-looking but I'm getting a sense not far apart from you. Like the mid-30s or Early 30s. That's what I'm sensing. Or some of y'all partners can be sugar daddies. They've made mistakes before in their lives. I think they regret it. They are a homebody. Very chill-back type of person. I won't go any further than this but they have Father Issues. I heard Mother issues too. But that's something about y'all life partner. Again, your partner is a Fighter. They'll chase after you if they are with you. They'll worship you. Haha 😂 Very dominant they are for real. They are a flirt and don't like drama. Very curious they are. They are a bad boy! Like to start shit. Just for the fun of it. They don't like toxic drama but healthy drama that's a little messy. That's how they are. Toxic family 👪. They have a toxic family member or siblings Or friends they consider family. (clear throat) Here's the sexual part of them. They love to caress their partner. So if you are with them. They'll slowly caress you. Some of them do ritual sex. Like they have to have sex under the moon. When the moon is out like I heard around solar eclipses. They'll do their ritual sex with you. The intense passion they are. I sense that can be a Scorpio or Virgo, or Gemini. Or Aquarius ♒. Either way, when they have sex it is very intense. Bust in their pants. Woah, well they bust quickly. Told you that passionate sex! Steamy sex, Shower Love Making, and they are great at eating pussy! Probably good with their tongue 😝. Rose petals 🌹. Very romantic they are and they have a big dick! I mean BIG DICK. That's DEVIL DICK! They got. So probably got grit dick. Woo 😯. They are transparent at times or they have people around them who are transparent like they can see through their friend's bullshit. They've been through a lot of people who gave them mixed signals and hidden feelings. I'm hearing that song by August Alsina-Never Fold.
They are showing off! They like to show off their shit. In a good way and even a bad way too. So they aren't afraid to show off their feelings to someone. I think one of their exes did that to them. Again, coming to the end of their relationship and they are accepting what happened to them. Purging out what happened to them. They are quick to call out other people's bullshit. But they are very emotionally supportive people. They hate when people cry in front of them. They are a diva too. They would want or manifest a fairytale relationship. They consider themselves a prince that's looking for their princess so they can sweep her off her feet😝. They believe in Love At First Sight. And they'll do anything to make their Princess happy. I believe they hide that part of themselves. Because they believe in fairytales or would want that. Feels that part of his feminine side has been shut down and lost. But they are a Fighter! I told you that they are a warrior. Their masculine side is well-balanced. Dealt with a lot of toxic connections in their lives. They love to give people chances. Especially, second chances. “I know what's it like to be on the other side of the road. Feeling all alone and afraid.” that's what I heard. Again, they have a lot of very revengeful enemies. But don't get twisted. Your partner is the type to cut off people quickly. Sometimes if they love their friends or family it is hard for them. I told you they would want that happy ending.
Pile 2 🙊
•They are Lightworkers or Arcturian Starseed. They are born leaders 👑 they are great manifestors. They are a God! I heard Head Master they are. Wow! Powerful partner you guys have. They are a God in human Form. They are meant to help the Earth and spread love to the world. They are highly rebellious. They don't like to be told what to do! They don't like the rules or how these laws are in the world. Okay, I got two separate things here. So both you and your partner are soulmates and both of you are starseeds. You two have a collective mission. Y'all meant to find each other in this life. Most of you and your partner are Twin Flame 🔥 and you two have a dual mission together. It is very strong and powerful. So good to y'all. They can be an earth sign: Capricorn, Virgo, or Taurus. Very perfectionists they are or they can have those signs as their moon signs. But very ambitious they are. Grounded too. I heard humble too. They have an ex-friend probably a stalker or obsessive with them. Yikes 😬. This friend of theirs is very intrusive. They are friendly. I think your partner is dorky. People consider them dorky like corny. But they don't care that's what makes them happy about themselves. Or they can be geeky too. But they are charming and love making cheesy jokes. They are a babbler. They love to communicate. They would want to debate with you, and they would want to pick your brain out. Sometimes they can be smartass. Their favorite season is summer or they probably like summer ☀️. I heard Because they wanna show off their body a lot. Haha 😂. Partner got kids or would want kids of their own. They broke up with their ex or again, and they have a baby mama. Sorry 💔. But some of y'all partners have a haircut short, short braids, waves, or they just have an extraordinary hairstyle. They are the CEO of their company and a very hard-working businessman. You'll be a workaholic wife to them. They would want a submissive woman or they are very submissive themselves. But I kinda doubt that. They would love someone that would cherish their love. You'll make a player fall in love with you. I think they are a player. They fuck around with plenty of other women. I can get a sense that some of you have a player that will fall for you. Haha 😂 they are a gangster that falls in love with a good girl. I think that is what they would want. Honestly, I feel that this friend who's obsessed with your partner it's a close friend. Partner is always horny😊. Now, your partner got a monster dick! That's mean it is big! Or they are a monster in bed. They got some sexy kinks. I heard it is extreme. I think breeding kinks is one of them. They are an ass-grabber. They love grabbing ass, not just any random ass but your ass while in bed. Lol. They like to surprise their partners in bed and they like to spit in your mouth or they would like for you to spit in their mouth. Moans turn them on. Boss Daddy, Dominant Man, and Chest Lover! So this partner loves your chest likes your boobs or they like your chest. They are very dominant. Damn! They are a Daddy! I mean Daddy! But they are also a romantic lover. When they have sex with someone they wanna have a close bond with their partners. Ball gags.👐🏾💋🌹 I think this partner likes everything. They want to be ball gags or they would want to be ball gagging someone. You are their romantic soulmates. So you are one of their romantic soulmates. They dealt with a lot of false twin flames 🔥 oh I heard that they are dealing with one right now. So they are dealing with a false twin right now. So your twin is dealing with a false twin. They are animated as hell. I don't think your life partner doesn't know how to be serious they always choking around. They would want to worship someone. But I think they are worshipping this false twin. Boo! But I think that they are such a great storyteller. 🌹✨🔥. But I feel like once they meet you, you are their beloved. Maybe, your life partner has a song called Beloved. But that's a song I've heard in my head. They get so drained it is exhausting for them.
They like to have sex in the kitchen 🍴. Yes, your life partner is a celebrity but that's for some of you. Not all of you but some of you and I'm hearing another song by this partner. This song I heard in my head. Ahhh! Yes, this is your soulmate/twin flame or whatever you wanna you make it to be that's up to you. Both of you are each other's perfect match and they are a social butterfly 👐🏾. They love to talk. I think that they are outside the box. You two have a past life connection.
Pile 3 🍪:
•That's the song I've heard from them. I sense that their star family is trying to communicate with them but they aren't paying them any attention. So If I have to guess that your partner is around the same age as you. For some of you, I sense that your partner is an Indigo Starseed, Crystal, or a Rainbow child Starseed. So I think some of the partners were born in the 1950s to ’80s but I'm getting more like 1980s. But they love helping the earth. I'm getting the page of swords for this pile. Oh yeah, they can be a Feline & Lyran Starseed. That's why I feel that some of y'all partners are older than you. Or they can be young too but very mature they are. They believe in destiny. I feel that they believe in the divine union too. So I think that you are coming in soon. I heard them say “Everything that meant to happen for a reason.” they don't like to rush anything. They don't mind being patient. They like quickies. They love to have sex on the beach and I think they enjoy the BDSM lifestyle or they would want to join the BDSM community. Hahaha 🤤🤤they would break all their rules for you. What I mean by that is they have standards and values about themself they'll break if they have some bad friend who isn't good for them. This reminds me of pile 1 so they have an ex-friend or this friend is about to be an ex. They are very intrusive. Jealous, and have stalker vibes I'm getting from that friend. Anyways, they are very handsome and they live a fast lifestyle. But your partner is a feminist or I think that they are your divine Feminine. They are friendly and communicative they are. But I think that they are true. Very feminine. But they have their masculinity. Very balanced they are or trying to be. They are a fighter as well. I think that they would want a Dommy! Meaning that they would want a dominant woman/man to dominate them. Right now I think they are feeling drained because of this close friend. Yikes 😬😬. I am sorry for them. They would want to kiss all over your body. Lol, they like to have sex a lot. I think that they'll confess their feelings for you. They like to have sex in the bathroom. Again, probably into BDSM Lifestyle. They are surrounded by energy vampires 🧛 that's not good at all with them. Very dark energies. They are entertainers in the bedroom! Ha ha but no they are entertainers. They can be a stripper or they know how to move their body. That's the song I've heard in my head. They are your High-Vibe Soulmate. Yes, your life partner is older than you. They feel that something is missing in their life. They know to break it down. Like seriously, they love having sex. Horny dog. Ritual sex, airplane sex and yes they are passionate too. So when they have sex it is with feeling. They'll give you the best of both worlds. Maybe, if you are on your period or whatever they would want to have sex under the moon. Like on a full 🌕. They are dealing with a third-party situation that isn't for them. I think sometimes your partner can be greedy. They are self-centered and very possessive over their stuff. So basically, selfish. I think that they are going through a heartbreak right now. They are a clingy lover. What I mean by clingy it can get fucking toxic with this partner. They love phone sex and they'll handcuffs on you or they would want you to use handcuffs on them.
Pile 4 🩷:
•That’s the song I've heard in my head. Okay, now I think that your partner originated from Draconian Starseed. But I don't sense anything bad about this one. They can be power-hungry. Yikes 😬that’s why I feel like it can get toxic with them. Their star Family is trying to communicate with them but it seems like they send your partner signals in their dreams. Okay, some of y'all this is your twin flame, and you and your twin have a dual mission and also an individual mission as well. So I think that some of y'all life partners are light workers and they are here to help the world evolve. They'll need to learn to adapt and also be highly intuitive. They are a soft and gentle lover because I can see them worshipping you. Put you on a high pedestal. Wow, they are a bit of a control freak. They like things their way. That isn't good at all. You two have a soul contract with each other. You two have a spiritual bond. I believe you two are a star family as well. You two have a past life connection and I think that you guys are forever connected. Maybe, some of you grow up with your life partner as children to now. I think your partner is your mentor. I also feel they love to travel or they are travelers. I think they like to drink cocktails. I think that they like to party hard. But they know how to balance their drinking. Or they can be bartenders. They are an old soul and also very charming as well. Your partner is very devoted, honest, and loyal. I feel that they don't like cheaters. I don't like to do appearances but they probably have a short haircut, braids, or bald too. Some of y'all partners aren't in a relationship anymore. So they are moving forward with their life. I heard they are looking for their Divine Counterpart. Again, destiny. Both of you are star-crossed lovers but they are trying to find you. They have their issues with their trauma they need to heal on their own. It's a lot of trauma. They crave your desire and again, horny. But I think that right now they have flings. So they are sleeping around. Having some fling-mates. They love doing some activities like sports, spas, or anything that keeps them moving. I think they like playing sports. Tennis, Basketball, baseball, or track. I feel like they dealt with someone who lied to them and they got cheated on. They've been through a lot of self-love and self-doubt. I believe your partner has a stocking fetish. They'll confess their feelings for you and I think that they'll be turned on by your moan. Fetish kinks. Woah they have a lot of kinks. They are rough! I mean rough. I don't see any gentleness. They'll push you against the wall. Holy, fucc! They are a swallower. I was right! They are rough grabbers. They like to be surprised or they would like to surprise you in the bedroom or outside. They have this raw energy. They got a lot of sexy kinks and your partner got a MONSTER 👹 DICK🍆🍆🍆. Wow, they know how to drop it low. Dang! They are dominant men and they love to bite! I mean 😏 freaky. If y'all don't mind a threesome. I can hear them say that “Would you mind a threesome?” your partner likes to be tied up and chained ⛓️ too. I think they like to be spanked too. Some of y'all partners are soft lovers. But they are dominant too. They'll grab your fave and kiss you hard. Bon appetite! Yummy 😋 they are so freak! They know how to get their hands dirty.
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Which Classic Novel Should You Read Based on Your Fave Snape Pairing
Snily - Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë (1847). Let's see, a low class and abused, brooding Byronic leading man? Check. Madly in love with a woman who ends up marrying a snobbish rich man who looks down on our hero? Check. Obsessed with her even decades after her death? Check, check, and check. Oh, and let's not forget that the child the woman has with her husband shares her eyes. Hm, suspicious.
Snames - Pamela; or, Virtue Rewarded by Samuel Richardson (1740). So, as a fellow snames fan, let's be honest with ourselves: all of our fics can be boiled down to "I can change him." We want James to be despicable, inhuman, and cruel to Severus, and then we want James to realize how disgusting he is and grovel at Severus's feet, because we are all basic bitches. So basic that one of the earliest novels in the English language is basically this. Pamela originated this trope.
Snirius - Deep Water by Patricia Highsmith (1957). Snirius fans are unafraid of dark, toxic relationships and unhappy endings, and, well, here's a book for you! Deep Water is about as toxic as you can get. It's about a man who murders his wife's lovers.
Snucius - Pygmalion by George Bernard Shaw (1913). Alright, alright, so this isn't a novel, this is a play, but fans of this pairing definitely seem to be into the whole sugar daddy/"I can turn this feral street child into an elegant gentleman" kind of vibe, and this is what this play is all about. Audrey Hepburn is fantastic in the film adaptation My Fair Lady (1964).
Snupin - Bear by Marian Engle (1976). You Canadians are probably like, "What the fuck? Is my OTP a joke to you?" The answer is yes, but that's beside the point. Hear me out. The main character is an archivist who is very bad at relationships and kind of shuns society in general. Like our Snape. She ends up in the Canadian wilderness on an assignment going through a dead person's belongings. Also, this dead person kept a pet bear that our heroine now has to take care of. Our heroine begins to yearn for something wild, our pet bear is a literal bear, but also incredibly pathetic and docile just like Lupin. Anyway, the two fuck. Literally, she fucks a bear. THIS BOOK WON THE GOVERNOR GENERAL'S LITERARY AWARD. THAT'S LIKE CANADA'S PULITZER I THINK. None of you werewolf-fuckers should act shocked and dismayed by this. We all know how you really think Sirius's prank should have gone (in which instead of James rescuing Snape, Moony makes sweet sweet love to him).
Sorry, guys, no Snarry or Snamione. I don't really read those pairings so I can't give an accurate recommendation. But if you've got thoughts, add to this!
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So I read Serena.... wow. I'm gonna make a long post expressing my opinions because THERE ARE A LOT!! (there's pictures too!)
These are going to be just my thoughts and how I understood the story + characters so if anyone disagrees, sorry but our vibes don't match, please don't come at me.
Now first of all can they adopt me??
Ok going to be serious here (not for long) this manhwa is so good!! I have read another manhwa of Ina-nim, the author/artist, called "Black Winter" (it's amazing go check it out) so I knew this was going to have layers upon layers as a story. AND IT DID!!
The story is so complex, everyone is scheming something, no one says the full truth and you never know when you might get stabbed in the back.
I'm going to be honest, I've known about Serena since it came out and I didn't want to read it. Not because I thought the story was bad or anything, since I knew how great this author is already thanks to their previous story, but because I knew it was going to be messy. Super messy. And it is, it is a hot dumpster fire mess. And I didn't really want to deal with it since it would have been exhausting and I would have dropped it or put it on hold. But by now (chapter 72 as of the latest update) I think that it has become more "stable" to say and I found it easier to enjoy the story since I read it in one go.
I particularly loved that none of the characters were good. No one. But no one is exactly bad either. Everyone here is just gray, they're flawed, they do bad stuff, they hurt each other. No one is right or wrong. We see things form their perspective and we see their reasoning but whether we sympathise with them is up to us because, let's be real, even their thought process can be fucked up at times.
Besides Victor. Victor is pure evil. If we throw holy water at Victor he will start melting. Victor should be burned.
Now moving along let's talk about the main characters.
Starting with Serena. First of all MOTHER!!🛐-
Now Serena is the type of fl I expected to get lots of hate(and she did). She had a lover while she was married, she was way too stubborn, she thinks she's better than everyone, etc. And yeah she did all those things. She's also a very traumatised little girl who had her entire world shattered at the age of 17, had to marry a stranger and feel her worth slip through her fingers. Serena is constantly paranoid due to her past experiences and the way she's been treated. She's desperately grasping for whatever little power she can have in the begining.
Now that is not to say she's never done anything wrong. Her using Fredrick as merely a way to destress and a shield, her prejudice against Eiser simply because of his family, her thinking she deserves to be in charge even if she is unexperienced simply because she is a Serenity, her refusing to see anything from anyone's perspective but hers. She's too prideful, too stubborn, too guarded.
But she's a great businesswoman, she takes her tasks seriously and she's super intelligent. The moment she started working on the hotel she changed because she was finally in her element. That spoiled, angry Serena in the beginning was simply what the isolation had done to her, the way it had fundamentally changed her. She started seeing everything in a new light when she started learning how to manage the hotel and being more open minded while still being guarded. Serena is a perfect morally gray main character, she's flawed, she's human.
Next we have Eiser. DADDY-
I swear I'm not being biased when I say I loved Eiser SO MUCH! First things first, he is an asshole. Not gonna sugar coat it. In fact that is the sugar coating. He is quite possibly the most secretive man alive, we know exactly 3 things about his past in the last 72 chapters and I'm not even being sarcastic, that's the total amount. And that is probably what makes him so interesting as a character to me at least.
One of my favorite things about Eiser was that he didn't have any feelings about Serena in the beginning. Yeah he mostly saw her as a means to an end and felt a smidge of responsibility because of her brother, but that was it. He honestly did not care about what Serena did or thought. Eiser's only objective is to save Serenity hotel, probably fuck up his family along the way because screw them and the rest is an enigma. He doesn't do feelings, not anymore at least.
We learn from the beginning that he's not a "good guy", he's not Male Lead™ that's mean to fl to protect her or to not get close to her and his whole world revolves around her etc. He's not just this guy meant to be a love interest, he's a whole other well constructed character. He has his own goals (which we never know what they are because his thought's are more secretive and guarded than the Vatican Apostolic Archives), he follows the most efficient way to achieve those goals and that's all that matters to him. He recognized Serena's skills all along yet still thought of her as a spoiled little princess because he didn't care about knowing her, didn't need to, that wasn't going to help him.
There really isn't much development about Eiser aside his relationship with Serena (but that's a talk about further below), but that's kind of on point for him. Unlike Serena, Eiser has been doing business for years now, he knows how to run things, he knows how to work with people, he has experience and skill and friends (surprisingly). Eiser's role is more of a mentor for Serena than as someone who also needs to learn.
And last Frederick (gonna hide behind a chair real quick)
Don't come at me for this but to be 100% honest, Frederick was as interesting to me as a white sheet of paper. Most of the time he was just there. That's it. Look the man is mysterious I agree and his character would have been so so interesting but he literally gave me nothing. I swear I'm being unbiased, even if Eiser didn't exist this man would have done nothing to impact me as a reader. But I think that shows how important or how much impact he made to Serena's story.
Frederick is interesting in the fact that we don't know his role in the story. He says he's doing everything to help Serena yet will that make him an antagonist or not is yet to be revealed. Also Frederick isn't even his name??? so there's that. Unlike the first two, he appears too few times and we don't really know what's up with him. So far he has made it his main objective and like basically his personality to protect Serena from his employers.
I liked that it showed he came here with impure intentions and his own goals but ultimately he just made his entire world revolve around keeping Serena safe and that kind of bumped me. The most interesting thing about him so far right now is the mystery of his past (who he killed, what's his true identity) and whether he'll be an antagonist by the end or not.
And now we move to the most dreaded thing. The romance.
I'm gonna say it straight up, Serena x Eiser for the win. Enemies to lovers has gone and done it again and by god did I EAT IT UP!! They were mother and father fr!!
Now let me express my opinions on both couples here with actual words.
First I want to talk about Serena and Frederick. From the beginning this story did not have a love triangle, at least for me. Serena and Frederick always looked like a relationship born out of necessity (which Serena later on confirms that that's what it might have been all along). Serena craved for whatever warmth and protection she could get and Frederick became kind of a safe place for her. She essentially used Frederick as a distraction, a means of relaxation and someone to just vent. She never properly saw him as his own person or equal but as a means of escape from her struggles.
Meanwhile Frederick himself didn't exactly love Serena in a pure way. He loves her yes, but he's also obsessed with her. He feels the need to make her need him so he can stay by her side. He wants to be the only one seeing her weak and vulnerable, caging her and himself in this relationship. And the only way he knows she will be by his side is if she uses him. And the more Serena takes charge of things as head of Serenity and builds herself up, the more Frederick notices that she's slipping away from him so he desperately clings to the mission of protecting her from his employer. He even admits these himself:
Perhaps they did have something beautiful in the beginning but it slowly developed into a relationship that caged them both.
Now sit down because I'm gonna be talking about mommy and daddy (I unironcally call them that no I'm not joking) and this talk is going to be a loooong one *cracks knuckles*
Serena and Eiser were never the picture perfect couple, furthest thing from it and they were not planning on trying to change that anytime soon. They were toxic, they hurt each other and they didn't care about each other. To Eiser, Serena was just the girl he was supposed to marry to save Serenity and to Serena, Eiser was the man that took Serenity and might kill her in the future. None of them saw each other in a good light and none of them bothered to understand the other. Eiser was completely indifferent towards Serena and Serena just wanted to hurt him. Off to a great start because they were already at rock bottom so the only way to go is up!
The way their relationship developed was really natural and well paced. Everyone knows that the beauty of a good enemies to lover is the slowburn AND THE SLOWBURN WAS SLOWBURNING HERE LEMME TELL YOU! They first needed to see each other in a new lighting as equal business partners to go any further into their relationship or start trusting each other. They're both very calculative people and Eiser did see that, has always seen that, so he resulted to manipulating Serena into "competing" with him to give her the chance to properly work in the hotel. And Serena took the bait but never played right into the palm of his hand and always took charge of things her own way.
It was important for them to recognize each other's full capabilities, not just with the veil of "Grayan" or "Spoiled little princess". Most importantly it was essential for Serena to see that Eiser is in fact truly helping her family without any ulterior motives (that are harmful to her family at least) and never had any plans of taking over and eliminating her. And while Eiser was always aware of Serena's abilities and respected her as an individual, he always too disinterested in her to see how fully capable she is. One of the funniest things in my opinion was how Eiser was showering Serena with praises in his head 24/7 yet verbally he would break out in hives before complimenting her. (Istg the communication in this household died back in that carriage with Serena's family)
And that was the biggest wall that blocked them from going further with their relationship, so as soon as that was gone, well would you look at that, they can actually get along just fine and decently! And the romance just came along to them naturally.
Eiser was always drawn to Serena since he first saw her, he was always intrigued by her actions even if that left him puzzled. He always read people for his benefit, but Serena simply caught his eye every time by pure curiosity. He enjoys seeing her expressions and reactions and her journey to rising to her rightful place. Plus, Eiser always felt a kind of kinship with Serena. He saw the loss, betrayal and devastation in her and recognized it as the same as his own. The fight Serena put all these years to try and keep her place and protect what's hers is what he wished he had done all those years back and what someone had done for him when he was at his lowest. It was only after he truly got to know Serena that all these feelings started to subconsciously transform into something else, something even he isn't truly aware of.
Serena surprised me by being the first one to recognize(?), in a way, she had fallen but I'm not complaining, it was beautiful. Serena's main problem with Eiser was that she couldn't trust him, for very obvious reasons, that mans true thoughts are locked in a safe inside a safe inside another safe that happens to be inside a warehouse in Antarctica. I think the most important thing for Serena was to get to realize that Eiser was trying to truly help her family and the hotel. To me there were 3 major moments where Serena's feelings for Eiser changed: When they went to visit President Harol's mansion and he took the peaches and also defended her, when he said he'll build another hotel by the seaside during their date and when he told her he didn't hate her. All these moment helped Serena see that she had made a wrong assumption about Eiser and even though that wasn't enough to dispel all her suspicions towards him, rightfully so because Serena isn't an idiot, it made her trust him a bit more and be more comfortable around him.
Also their backstory, with Eiser being Serena's "prince" was so freaking cute. And the way she always looked for him when she went to those masquerade parties as a way of comfort, sobbing on the floor. If you go back and reread, you'll see that Serena has always been conscious of Eiser from the very start, albeit subconsciously. She always described him touching her like "The spot where he touched burned even after he had let go", or how she was conscious of being dressed "thinly" in front of Eiser but never in front of anyone else, not even Frederick. In my opinion, she had recognised Eiser as the masked prince at the time or knew subconsciously, but because of the animosity between him and her prejudice against him because he was a Grayan, she didn't want to admit it because that would admit that Eiser was anything but a simple marriage and business partner to her.
And now with the release of chapter 72, I am dreading the road in which their relationship is heading and how far back it may devolve. Like I don't blame Eiser because 1) he doesn't know about Serena's trauma 2) he saw red after seeing the way that man was hurting his wife I support the Grayan in him taking over at that moment. But unfortunately for Serena he just proved her greatest fear when it came to him, that he's still very much a Grayan no matter how much he despises them. Her reliving her childhood trauma and seeing Victor in Eiser could revert her to earlier Serena where she was always paranoid and scared of Eiser, but now with proof that he is in fact just as dangerous as she thought him to be. Worse thing is, she can't even go to Fredrick for comfort because she's suspicious of him too so she's truly alone (she has Sui but Sui was there before too and we saw the state in which Serena was in back than). This is a very complicated and simply put shit situation for them, it could possibly be one of their roughest patches in their entire relationship and it's going to take understanding from both Eiser and Serena to get over it and possibly, hopefully, truly trust each other after this. Please Ina-nim please I'm putting my trust in you!! (Ina-nim played us all like a cheep kazoo with chapter 72 like I could not have been more wrong and thank fuck for that! Never have I been so happy to be so incredibly wrong about something! War is over people cheered everyone cried tears of joy!!)
And lastly, thank you for coming to my ted talk, this entire post was just a way for me to vent all the thoughts this webtoon gave me and If you read it, good for you, I love you. As a reward have this collage of chibi mommy and daddy being silly goofy because my chosen career path requires me to have adobe illustrator and I never use it responsibly
#serena#selena#serena webtoon#serena manhwa#serena serenity#eiser leinz grayan#frederick bloom#serena x eiser#manhwa memes#manhwa#webtoon
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This is something people asked me more than a couple times until now in the comments, both in the Italian version of Sugar and in the English one. I often answer this with a couple paragraphs of light explanations, but you know what? Have a seat, I'll actually talk about this in a proper way and this may be a very long ride.
I warn you: I'm writing this from my mobile in my free time. This means early in the morning or late at night after a whole day doing things. My brain is shit in those moments so you could find a lot of errors. I'm sorry if my English will be poor, I'm not really able to correct anything. (Also, I prefer to give you my honest flow without corrections. That may actually help getting the right vibe from all of this? I hope so).
But let's go to the proper answer.
I've been asked: "how much of your life do you process through words?"
There is no easy way to say this, no way to avoid being honest here. The reality is that I put all of my life into this story. There might be a lot of differences in the events, but the feelings, all the traumas I talk about, things the characters say, think or do, all of that is mine. I could literally take pieces from all the chapters and give all of them deep explanations on how those are not just mine, but me. I am between the lines, hidden inside all the metaphors, stuck under the weight of the baddest chapters, trying to breathe after writing the most emotional ones.
I know it's a fanfiction. I know the story is not perfect, that there may be holes in the plot and the characters may seem badly shaped, rough, not real. I know, I am not a professional writer, I might make mistakes. This is no excuse, mind me, but not everything in life is coherent or logical as we often see in the media. We can spend hours or a lifetime creating the perfect story with everything perfectly crafted but that doesn't make it real, because incoherence is a huge part of the human experience. And that is what I want Sugar to be: human, not perfect. Realistic when it comes to emotions and relationships, not necessarily in its plot or events. I want it to be a trip into the deep abyss of an injured mind, trying to hold on with a broken heart, not three unicorns running to Candy Mountain. I want to break you into pieces and slowly help to put everything back together.
Look guys, I get it as much as I get that is not actually a story for everyone. You open it expecting another plot and I give you a bad time instead. You think it's something about a sugar babe and his daddy and I give you traumas and none of that. You come for the smut and I put old wounds and control needs over that too, also denying it for a whole half of the story. Truth is, I am a scammer. You come for a Good Omens fanfiction and I break the characters apart, twisting them to the point they might be the same to the very core, but nothing like it on the outside. You have to dive deep to find them.
My God, what am I even doing?
They asked me, "do you choose your words with care, don't you?"
Oh, dear Lord, I am so sorry because maybe people really think I plot all the metaphors, I think properly of all the dialogues, but what if I don't? Most of the time I don't, really. I just put my hands on the keyboard and let them free to go wherever they want. I type whole pages and emerge right after without having the faintest clue of what I wrote. I need to come back multiple times to check if I got what I wanted in the correct way. Hopefully, it does almost all the time. I know where I start and I know where I want to be in the end, the middle of it is pure instinct and emotions. I know how my characters would behave and play them like a TV show in my mind, while describing scenes on the screen.
( There might be some kind of light spoilers from now on. Mind how you go! )
I know I am using Crowley as the raw essence of a damaged mind and heart. He uses crude metaphors, always talks with anger and uses blood and storms in his speech, because he is instinct, he's a tide, he's greed personified and wants everything he could get cause he truly got nothing in his life. He is the passion who can't be contained, he uses art to process his emotions, he uses music to lose himself in something familiar, hoping someone else could help him find his way back home. He uses gardening to grow things because in his life nothing seems to last long. He can't look at tomorrow without fear, but grows things he hopes will last more than him. Life was not good with him, but he wasn't good with his life either. He did nothing, letting time pass without actually building anything, living the days as they come, drowning his pain in wine or between someone else's legs. He knows most of what he is, most of what he's done, is not healthy. But he never really cared before.
And then there is Aziraphale, which apparently is a walking red flag, traumas personified on two working legs, scared of everything hiding outside his door. He got everything. He has money, a big house, books, some people working with him, and is content. So content his heart yells and cries because he's lonely. So content he can't really control his whole life because he is his own antagonist. So content he's not really scared of what hides outside the door, because what's inside is worst. He uses the softest metaphors, he uses his books to tell stories and talk about himself, he can't really speak is mind and talks, talks, talks so much! He wins arguments because he drags his opponents into exhaustion. He talks them to death, using whole paragraphs of elegant, perfectly crafted phrases and quotes he can shield himself with. He's not like Crowley, just getting started on this new channel of communication, no, Aziraphale is well trained. He has thousands of books he can use to get where he wants and still use his experience poorly because he thinks people are just like the books and guess what? That's not true. People are something else.
It's actually funny how I just condensate two parts of me into two different characters.
Crowley holds my outside, and this is why you have his POV for the entire story. You see the world with his distorted, unreliable vision, you see raw desire to be accepted, the need to be truly seen by someone, big pieces of his mind, his dissociations, his fear, his low self esteem, the thousands of radios turned on in his mind, his incapability to let things truly go, is head full of canvases he never finish. And then you see his rage and you're not sure how much that will last. Yeah, that is me. Welcome to myself.
Aziraphale holds my inside. This is why we never get his POV. Too easy, too deep, too much. He is scared. He needs control. He wants and can't get. He hopes and does nothing. He's stuck in his home, with his books, and finds himself at ease there. He thinks he's safe but he's not. He's a living contradiction and at the same time he's not.
God, what was the question again?
Maybe I wrote too much. Maybe this is not enough. All I can say is that there's something really important in this story, and that is Crowley asking Aziraphale to "look at him", 'cause all he wants is to bee seen.
But in the end, what is happening here is you looking at me. And it's strange to get so naked in front of so many strangers. But it's also good and positive to me to be seen, for once.
So, thank you. Really, thank you.
'cause with every chapter you allow me to express myself in a way I never did in 30 years. Thank you so much.
#good omens#good omens fanfiction#sugar#deep down fei's heart#fanfiction#fanfiction writer#there's something deep down you need to understand to be truly free#thank you so much for helping me express myself#this is extremely personal so don't read if you don't care
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HELLO! WELCOME TO EIDETICMEMORY!
This blog just turned 3 back in April 2023 (yay!) and I’m beyond grateful for the love and support its received in its time. However, it has just occurred to me that I’m gaining quite a bit of new followers and should make a little introduction post. So, here it goes!
Who am I?
I’m eideticmemory aka Ash! I’m 22, but I’ve been running this blog since I was 18.
What do I post?
This is a Spencer Reid and Matthew Gray Gubler based blog! Meaning if you spend crazy amounts of time imagining sucking Spencer’s gun or MGG being your sugar daddy, this IS the place for you! I have a little over 30 fics on my masterlist, which can be found in my bio. Every fic is tagged with the appropriate warnings but here are some general warnings about my content -
Smut! Smut! Smut! Smut all around. Most of my fics are porn with plot or just straight porn. The older the fic, the more deranged, I’ll be honest. The content of my smut is explicit. It’s rare that I post a fic without smut, so please keep that in mind!
Angst. I love it. I can’t NOT write it. I do have some more fluffy fics laying around but I don’t write them often.
Age gaps. Obviously, I’m half Matthew’s age and that’s a big turn on for me. If that’s also your thing, my Matthew fics might be right up your alley.
I have works ranging in intensity from The Day to I Don’t Smoke, so there’s a good mix of romance, kink, violence, and conflict everywhere. Be sure to check out all the warnings on a fic before reading!
How often do I post?
Chile. Back in the day, I posted a fic every day. I’ve slowed down a lot to the point that my fics are very sporadic.
Do I take requests?
I do! That’s not a guarantee that I will fulfill the request, but I love gaining inspiration and I will run with an idea that fits my vibe! I always make sure to notify the messenger when their fic is posted. Send a request any time!
Did I really meet MGG?
Yes, I did and I think about him every day. Matthew, wherever you are, come home, the kids miss you! Lmao, I met him 8/14/22, and you can find the full story on my blog.
Thanks for joining! I love you all! Stay safe!
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WIP Tag Game
Thanks for the tags, @meggie-stardust @kordyceps @mirrorthoughts. It's a sorry state of affairs up ins, but you're keeping me honest.
2023 was this molasses, nebulous kind of year where absolutely everything felt like very slowly pulling teeth. But:
Actively in Progress, Words on (Digital) Paper
Spell on you - Steter week work and Meg finished hers so now I really have to get that last chapter out
FTH #1 - Steter with a boss/client and freelancer dynamic, not-so-accidental Sugar Daddy vibes
FTH #2 - Steter, established relationship, both of them extremely out of patience with everyone outside of the three or so people they mutually tolerate
In the Works, Like. I've Been Thinking About Them
Leave the war with me - Steter, where the Argents are dealt with legally (thinking about making this a series, the initial arrests, the trial (mostly so Peter and Deucalion can be little bitches in the public gallery), the aftermath)
Changed - Stetopher, demon Stiles, owner of DILF souls
Maybe Someday
Sheriff Stilinski or Parrish expanded entries in the Scott's Vet Clinic of Horrors series
Born to Lose - Steter (maybe Stetopher??), I've been thinking about a follow-up to this one since I wrote it
Here's hoping 2024 is a little more... more. In a good way. Not a monkey paw wish way.
Anyway. How y'all doing? My goals are to comment more this year, maybe send some asks. Everyone loves those.
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🔥🐺King Cerberus 🐺🔥
Here's the King of Hellhounds, Cerberus!
So, I decided in my new headcanon, Bee is now the bio-daughter of Beelzebub and Cerberus. So Bee now gets her canine appearance and blue hair and details from Cerberus, she also gets her flowing hair and tail from her dad, but instead of being made of fire, it's made out of the lava-lamp honey material she gets from her mother Beelzebub.
I decided that for my version of Cerberus, he's the King of Hellhounds, as all hellhounds descend from him, and he's also very much inspired by heavy metal, as he is also the lead singer and guitarist for his heavy metal band, Black Shuck. His left and right head also act as his backup singers too, and he has the ability to manipulate his voice for when he's singing as well. Also, all three heads have slightly different personalities from each other, but they all share one mind, and their voices sound the same as well, but the center head is the one in charge.
Much like my new design for Beelzebub, I also took inspiration from Lovesart23's design on Twitter, so all credit goes to them
I hope you all love how he turned out, cuz I put so much work into him, and I'm so proud of the outcome ^w^
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Name: Cerberus
Nicknames: The King of Hellhounds/The King of Gluttony (title), Cerby, The Infernal Hound, The Metal King, Your Highness (by Eth), Bossman (by his bandmates), Big Daddy (by Beelzebub), Dad (by Bianca and Fawn), Sweetie (by Beelzebub), Hubby (by Beelzebub), Sugar (by Beelzebub), Darling (by Beelzebub)
Gender: Male
Species: Hellhound
Sexuality: Bisexual
Current Residence: Gluttony Ring, Hell
Personality:
Left Head: Cheeky, Protective, Short-tempered, Witty, Sarcastic, Egotistical, Caring, Honest, Passionate, Confident
Center Head: Bold, Protective, Short-tempered, Relaxed, Intelligent, Honest, Passionate, Caring, Fatherly, Friendly
Right Head: Lively, Protective, Short-tempered, Crass, Fun-loving, Passionate, Brash, Quick-thinking, Blunt
Likes: Heavy metal music, Partying, Drinking, Singing, Performing, Protecting his family, Cooking, Spiky accessories, Being with his wife, Honest people, Being praised, Flirting with Beelzebub
Dislikes: Mammon, Bad vibes, Bad music, His family being in danger, Disrespect, Mammon hitting on Beelzebub, Capitalists, Tension between his bandmates, Hypocrisy, Obsessive fans
Family: Beelzebub (wife), Bianca (daughter), Fawn (adopted daughter)
Friends: Members of Black Shuck, Asmodeus, Satan, Leviathan, Belphegor, Lilith, Ethelwulf "Eth", Vortex
Enemies: Mammon
Others: Lucifer (acquainted), Blitzø (acquainted), Loona (acquainted), Members of Black Shuck (bandmates)
Romantic Interests: Beelzebub (wife)
Status: Active
Occupations: King of Hellhounds, King of the Gluttony Ring, Lead singer and guitarist for Black Shuck
Abilities and Skillset: Demonic Transformation, Body Manipulation, Pyrokinesis, Enhanced Strength, Enhanced Hearing, Voice Manipulation, Superhuman Smell, Hand-to-Hand Combat, Musical Talent, Performing Arts
Voice Headcanon: Armen Taylor (Risotto Nero from JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Golden Wind Dub)
Theme Song: Hail To The King (Avenged Sevenfold)
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#my art#helluva boss#helluva boss fanart#helluva boss oc#cerberus#helluva boss hellhound#vivziepop#original character
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What are your fav pre S2 fics and post S2 fics?
Sanji's Bridgerton Fic Recs
Am I allowed to plug myself? 😂😂 I just never end up on fic rec lists so you know what Imma be shameless and link my masterlist:
I'm really proud of my Kathony one shots (My 10 Things AU is a vibe but I've abandoned it sorry yall 😭) and I think my NB!Sophie fic deserves more love so please if you're interested have a read and let me know what you think 💞
As for the other recs - I'll be honest, I don't read as much fics as I should especially when I have so many amazing writer friends I really feel bad I haven't read or commented enough on their fics! That being said here's all my fave fic writers (literally mainly my friends shsjjsjs cos they're the only ones I trust to get the characters right):
@newtonsheffield aka Molly! She is first fandom friend I ever made in this fandom and the reason I ended up making this blog. I always saw her in the main tag and got really curious about her fics. Then I fell into the rabbit hole that is BSCU which I still need to finish 💀💀. I would rec all of her works tbh she has written something for everyone but my personal faves are the following:
1) Mysterious Fathoms Below - A Little Mermaid Kathony AU that's very soft and hella intimate. I was SUPER hyped for this one and Molly really delivered
2) Through The Wire - This was an intense and angsty AU where Anthony gets amnesia after an accident a little while after dumping Kate when they were getting too serious. It was brilliantly written and I honestly think this is her best work. It's so annoying that the puritans of the fandom gave her so much shit for some of her chapters, they can fuck right off this was my absolute fave fic of hers ever!
3) Royals - Hello we ALL LOVE a Princess Diaries 2 AU! This was such a fun read honestly it's been so long I need to go back and reread. Also watching the movie right after hits different and gives you all the feels
[Ik she has other faves she'd hype up more but I haven't read those yet jshdjjd so I can't really comment on them but oh! Honourable Mention because she's mentioned she loves this AU but it's very underrated and I still need to read it: Post Traumatic. It's a Jurassic Park AU AND Kate is a fight pilot it's iconic]
I would also recommend going through the tags of those fics because she always has fun snippets, edits and playlists for them! It really drums up the hype while you're waiting for it to be updated.
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Next up we have Lil aka @sharmasandcorgis whose writing I absolutely adore and I think she's hella underrated so please go give her some love on her AO3
1) Leap Year - If you haven't already guessed I go feral for movie AUs I think its a film writer thing lmao. Based on the movie of the same name, it's enemies to lovers EXCELLENCE, with a side of fake marriage we love to see it!!
2) Mornings - It's pregnancy Kathony fic and is so so soft and comforting. I was literally Agnes reading it: IT'S SO FLUFFY I'M GOING TO DIE!!
3) So I need to catch up on her other fics but she's so brilliant I couldn't pick a 3rd I'm just reccing her entire AO3 works!!
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Zaira aka @jeanvanjer who needs to write more fics for us because her writing is AMAZING, currently only has The Ghost of You up at the moment. Very soft but angsty and sad, get tissues ready before reading.
Look out for her Sugar Daddy Professor Anthony AU at some point down the line.
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Triv aka @hptriviachamp is my fave Regency fic writer because she's very good with the language of the time, does thorough research for every fic and as a Poli-Sci major, always has a political touch in her fics it sets her writing apart from the rest of the writers and makes her stories so unique!
1) Suddenly A Smile, Shyly Obscene - Johncesca's first meeting fully fleshed out. I watched this fic come to life in our GC whenever we had writing sprints and let me say I'M OBSESSED! She really understands Johncesca and the way she writes John makes me go feral, her John is now Canon John imo.
2) The Courtship of Charlotte Bridgerton - IT'S *THE* NEXT GEN FIC! Charlotte and Clairmont are super compelling especially with how it progresses and no spoilers but there's a suprise on Clairmont's part 👀. It's a really refreshing take on a certain kind of relationship and the characters are just so fun to read about.
3) A Very Bridgerton Diwali - The very first fic of hers I've read. It made my heart sing because it reminded me so much of how my family and I are during Deepavali so it hit close to home in a very soft way.
Author's Pick: Do Not Go Gentle Into That Senior Year (Just Rage) - A Kathony HS AU with all the tropes of a HS au and beats of their story in one fic.
Honourable Mention: I'm Your National Anthem - A very spicy politically charged Kathony Politics AU but it's on the back burner as a WIP and hasn't been posted 😭😭 if it ever comes out please go read it!
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Belle aka @sophiamariabeckett !! My fandom wife 😍😍. Heads up, we're moving into Benophie territory.
1) Bridgertons' Anatomy - IT'S A GREYS AU!! I was really surprised to hear her tell me this wasn't hyped up more like don't yall love Greys?? AND OFC THE BRIDGERTONS WOULD BE A HIGH POWERED DOCTOR DYNASTY FAMILY!
Of course it's Benophie centric and Ben/Sophie (Baek!! She's Korean yall) are super cute in it but my fave chapter is Nepotism Babies where Anthony and Simon meet for the first time 🥺🥺🥺
Soo gooo read it - Belle also made a lot of edits for it, go give it some love!
2) Fallen Through Time - Outlander AU nuff said, very angsty and just iconic I mean when Jamie and Claire are the blueprint and you apply to Benophie it's just chef's kiss!
3) Author's Pick: Dusk Til Dawn - Violet Bridgerton II's Birth! Another fic that was born in our GC and it is so so soft. Okay but like the way I initially wrote From Dusk Til Dawn til I realised that's a video game 💀💀
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Last but certainly not least, Michaela aka @minim236 is literally our fandom's Bob the Builder fix-it fic writer. Canon broke it? Michaela can fix it, yes she can!
Her AUs are unmatched! Lots of fun rarepairs but she makes them work and you can see why they fit together. My personal favourite fic is tied between these two so I'll put them in the order I read it:
1) The Marina/Simon Series - An AU where Simon and Marina strike a deal to enter into a marriage of convenience so she won't be ruined and Simon can say Fuck you to his dad by not having any biological kids to take the Dukedom. Also these two deserve better than being ending up with r*pists (Ik Show Phillip didn't since they won't need to consummate their marriage and she doesn't seem to have PPD but still Book Philip can go die.)
I think this was the first ever fic I read from her?? So definitely has a special place in my heart!
2) [Also Author's Pick:] A Papa Sharma & Mary Love Story. My soft spot is Kate and Edwina's parents I WANNA KNOW EVERYTHING and this fic series fulfilled that!! Their love story was so so sweet and we had baby Kate and Mary moments I was sobbing! We also had a moment where Vi was being a ignorant white lady lmaoo it was funny and I lowkey wish she had been called out for it within the narrative hshshs.
Bonus Sequel: Letters Sent & Read
Sorry M I gotta admit I haven't read this one yet but I will soon! The premise is promising and I'm excited to read it 🤗🤗
3) Ruin
He would not ruin her. How could he ruin such beauty? Benedict is an artist without a muse or motivation. Until he is introduced to Sophie Beckett, a guarded ballet dancer who lacks passion and does not want to be his muse. The attraction between them is confusing, especially to her.
I need to read this but it's a monster of a fic and I love that! Hopefully it will be finished by the time I can start it and I'll be able to binge it ehehhe. I will say I always see edits for it and they are amazing!!! So please go give them some love 💞
Also anon I know you asked for Pre-S2 and Post-S2 fics, but I can't recommend any good fics that are canon compliant with S2. I've given up on trying to find good ones without a Kathani jumpscare and I have talked about it on my blog a couple of times (recently talked about it in the comments here) but I hate HATE the trend of Abusive!Sharmas and White Saviour Kathony saving Kate from her 'oh so horrible' family, it's fucked up. Please go read TVWLM and come back with better characterisations of the Sharma Family Unit thanks, we don't claim the dysfunction on the show.
Thanks again for the ask anon and everyone goooo read my friends' work, just absolutely brilliant writers!
#bridgerton#Bridgerton Fic Recs#Bridgerton Fanfiction Recommendations#kate sharma#anthony bridgerton#kathony#sophie beckett#sophie baek#benedict bridgerton#benophie#Papa Sharma#Mary Sharma#Mr. Sharma#Mr. Sharma/Mary Sharma#francesca bridgerton#john stirling#johncesca#Kanthypants & Eldest Daughters GC#Michaela Tag#Molly Tag#sanji answers
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what do u think about a 22 yo and a 38 yo? is that age gap a problem?
I think only you can answer that for yourself. Like I don’t believe there’s a “rule” on ideal age gaps. A friend of mine in uni’s parents have like a 45 year age gap or something crazy like that. Her dad was in his 70s when he had her and her brother. She has multiple siblings older than her mom and multiple nieces/nephews who are older than her. That *seems* very weird obviously but like her parents were hippy types and her dad vibed with her mom and her mom vibed with the hippy old dude better than she did with like 25-35 year old guys in the late 80s/90s because she was a hippy and they were preps and like they’ve been married and had a decent life. It’s been tough more recently because now like her dad is in his 90s and her mom is still middle aged and that’s difficult but like no relationship is without complications.
So that’s an EXTREME age gap that’s worked imo. I wouldn’t like recommend it to people but you can’t tell the heart what to feel and like don’t walk away from the love of your life because there will be a period where it highkey sucks.
22 and 38 is big obviously but depending on where you’re at it can work. It’s not THAT dramatic.
I think the key things to consider are: 1) are you guys in a similar life stage? Do your goals align? Weirdly with like some huge celeb age gaps - like Mick Jagger x his child bride - I’d argue like… yes? Mick’s obvi gonna have more fun with a 30 year old than a fellow 70 year old and like for a lot of women it’s… Mick so who cares how old he is? Obvi it’s gonna be fun! So like again there isn’t per se a “right” answer here 2) is there a way this can go wrong easily? Like if one of you wants kids and the other already has kids and doesn’t want more, what’s gonna happen when you reach that bridge? Is it worth doing this now and maybe getting your heart broken? 3) does the age gap factor in a lot? Like is one of you feeling much older/much younger? Is it something you think about a lot? Why? If that’s the appeal, that speaks to like issues and if it’s making the situation miserable that also seems fucked up 4) in a mercenary but true way, what’re you both getting out of it? Is it just a sugar daddy/momma and someone to keep you young - which is fine but then play smart not fast and loose - or do you legit have stuff in common?
And finally: is this a pattern for the older person?
Like shit happens right but if the older person’s partners stay your age, that’s concerning because the odds of you winding up broken-hearted are super high. There’s a difference between Leo only dating girls under 25 and Stephen Fry being married (only once in his life, and his previous relationship lasted 15 years and he only started being sexually active in his like 30s and stuff because of repression around sexuality) to a guy 30 years younger than him.
Be super honest with yourself, ask what’s going on and why this is happening, and do whatever ultimately feels right. And hey, if you do get your heart broken - you were 22 lol you’re supposed to.
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Diary of a Horror Buff 8.23.22
Ugh Hey sluts, work was long but I got paid, ooh guess who can pay his rent now its me bitch.
So I've watched nothing but trash so let's also watch something thats not that to make up for it.
Clown Motel: Spirits Arise (2019) dir. Joseph P. Kelly
Ok so in my tubi queue I have a lot of random stuff on it gay shit, actually good horror movies, and the worst bottom of the barrel trash that you could possible ever want to watch. this is the later.
so we start off with some random assholes who make a haunted places style tv show. Like that one zak bagans show.
one day this man will be murdered by a ghost and the world will thank them.
the random assholes are like whoa a clown hotel in the desert that sounds lit. and to be honest the clown hotel is actually very lit however this movie does not deliver on the tourism aspect. The houses that october built this is not.
While these assholes are driving we meet a bunch of women celebrating a bachlorette party. They do not have names they barely have personalities. The first half hour of this movie is dedicated to introducing the single personality trait that each character has.
and before you ask yes Gay is a personality trait.
the clowns are extremely generic looking theres a pig butcher clown whose a rapist, a little person clown whose grumpy and violent, and a full grown man whose clearly trying to homage Schlitzie which just feels abliest.
omg you can have a character with Microcephaly thats actually dynamic and treats them like a person. Amazing.
theres also some subtle homophobia in here but that being said I love that they gay friend packed an entire bag of sex toys on a all guys road trip and somehow there still surprised he sucks dick. Like bruh you share a hotel room with him.
Long story short this movie is bad and does not have enought clown highjinks.
This has exactly zero things to do with this review. I am just obsessed with Aplause's Le Petits Marshel the Clown Plushie. He gives me joy.
The Murder at Glen Athol AKA The Criminal Within (1936) dir. Frank R. Strayer
this was very very boring. mayo boy detective like wah wah I'm on vacation with his idiot housekeeper who I feel like is supposed to be the salt of the earth thug with a heart of gold type but hes just a very unfunny butt monkey. horrible annoying.
The rest of the cast is as follows.
boisterious flapper type who just flaunts how much the men in her life enjoy pussy worship
ingenue #54
a "wise guy eh" mobster
sugar daddy
various fuckbois who don't really play into the plot.
Now tropes are useful for a reason but the main issue with this film is plot. Mysteries really need to be well-structered so that the audience can feel like were solving the mystery along with the detective. This does not deliver.
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Fatima's Coochee Choochee Dance (1896) dir. William Heise, James H. White.
Ok so I watched this because I mean ya gotta but what I discovered is really really cool. First check out these two cool articles about the subject.
basically the coochee coochee dance is what we would call belly dancing in modern day. the whole culteral idea we have in america is actually part of the orientalism that occured during the late victorian era. and the coochee dance was both something that was taking the world by storm. People were obsessed with this dance and it was very de riguer. It was also very controversay.
bigsly the unwashed masses are gawking at the haram dances of the orient. Someone must think of the children. well are children not those of the unlettered.
This film also has the curious denotion of being the first censored film since Fatima's hips were a little too hot for teacher and by teacher I mean the local alderman.
Overall a super cool piece of history. Shake those hips fatima.
vimeo
Nursery Crimes (2011) dir. L. Whyte
hey kids do you like fucked up fairy tales??? well your in fucking luck. so yeah this is exactly the vibe your expecting little bo peep is a crazy little psycho and shenanigans, (moider) happens.
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The Video Store Commercial (2019) dir. Cody Kennedy, Tim Rutherford
FUN FACT: The last blockbuster literally ever is in my state.
So this is a movie about a video rental store, (yes zoomer we know), who's making a commercial and honestly I really do wish they still existed not because I don't enjoy the interent but because one. Physical Copies mean that its harder to wipe entire shows off the map like with what happened with HBO Max literally fucking over so many of their content creators.
Also I really want to see a copy of the Japenese Tomie Film Series but the only physical copies I can find are like over a hundren bucks and I don't have that kind of money.
So nostaligia aside this was a fun little horror comedy check it out.
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Betty Boop in Halloween Party (1933) dir. Dave Fleisher.
OK I mean why wouldn't I want to watch more Betty Boop Cartoons what can I say I like a dame that can go boop boop de Boop and live in a world were everyone does a jaunty gig.
ok so there a fuck ton of gifs from this film which I'm not surprised there are a lot of really fun visual gags. I also love that Betty Boop is just like yeah I'm a pinup what about it. like she literally just opens the door and is like hey gals what if you just saw my entire ass.
Also victorians had a whole bunch of insane halloween parlor games and one of these days it would be amazing to have a themed holloween party.
so yeah this is just a movie about betty boop throwing a party and then some asshole crashes it.
I also love that the more I watch these old cartoons the more cuphead references I get.
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The Cobweb Hotel (1936) dir. Dave Fleischer
Ok so this is another one of those old Color Classics that I remember from my DVDs I watched as a kid.
Basically this is a story about a daring enterpanuer who wants to make the stay the best of the customers life.
also he's a spide so there definetly trying to kill them or something. Serving H.H.Holmes realnesss.
Theres a lot to enjoy here, the horrible dark plot, the tiny person aestetic. the fun action scenes.
All Around a good time.
OK Part of me want to watch more but also part of me wants to go deal with everything else I have to deal with today. So get ready for tomorrow for more fun films.
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Fandom: MCU
Pairing: Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader
Warnings: Sexual intercourse with a female-identifying person with a vagina + a bit of sugar daddy Zemo vibes at the end
Notes: Y’all... don’t judge me. I have a power kink, and Marvel did me dirty by randomly deciding that Zemo is fifthly rich royalty. And my girl @henrysmorgan did me even dirtier by actively encouraging my attraction to this fucker. So, blame Marvel, and blame her. // This is kind of really fucking long, and I didn’t edit it much, because I wanted to get it posted before episode 4, in case that episode flips the script. So, potentially some editing issues, and slightly rushed writing. Hopefully it’s alright, but please let me know if I screwed up anywhere. // Lots and lots of TFAWS ep. 3 spoilers
When Bucky texted you to ask that you meet him in some dusty, old, abandoned-looking car garage, you certainly didn’t know what to expect. All you knew was that an old friend needed your help, so you intended to be there.
It had been a few months since you’d last seen him, and even longer since you’d participated in any sort of mission, but you suspected that was what you were walking into. Being exposed to the Mind Stone had granted you the power of telepathy, which meant that SHIELD was quite keen on persuading you to work for them. They trained you in martial arts and hand-to-hand combat, and you went on miscellaneous missions a handful of times. They put in a lot of effort to convince you that it was your moral obligation as an “enhanced individual” to help them with these missions, but you ultimately decided that that simply wasn’t the kind of life you wanted. Instead, after the Blip, you began working a desk job for SHIELD, which is when you crossed paths with Bucky, helping him with paperwork associated with his pardon, and the two of you formed a friendship. But SHIELD kept trying to coerce you to get back into the field, constantly badgering you about it and making it clear that you weren’t wanted if all you were doing was paperwork.
The truth is, you weren’t cut out to be a superhero, and you had no desire to be. It didn’t help that your entire country had been reduced to rubble several years prior, leaving you with a bottomless pit of homelessness in your heart. So, you left SHIELD, and started a life in Berlin, where you were content to live out your days as the owner of a small bakery, residing in the small apartment above your shop.
That is, until Bucky Barnes dragged you into a particularly sticky situation, with a certain Baron Helmut Zemo.
You knew that helping Bucky and Sam would throw a colossal wrench in the life you’d created for yourself in Berlin, but after they explained the situation with the super soldiers, coupled with Bucky’s puppy dog eyes, you found yourself refraining from storming out of the building the second you saw Helmut fucking Zemo.
“We need you to keep an eye on him. You don’t have to tap into his mind 24/7, we just want a heads up if he’s going to screw us over,” Bucky explained.
"Look, we really need him. We’re obviously scraping the bottom of the barrel here, otherwise he'd still be in that cell. And neither of us want to be packing a criminal around like a rich bitch's chihuahua, so we need you here to make sure we're not gonna get bit," Sam explained.
"Fine. But you both owe me," you relented, and they both took sighs of relief. You glanced at Zemo, locking eyes with him for several tense moments. He gave you a polite smile, giving off the impression that he had nothing to hide – which he didn't, as his thoughts showed his intentions were pure at the moment. "We're good for now. He just genuinely wants the opportunity to take down these new super soldiers."
Sam and Bucky nodded, visibly releasing tension from their shoulders as they moved to head out, now reassured that Zemo was truly on their side. Meanwhile, Zemo eyed you with curiosity and awe, murmuring, "Fascinating."
The four of you walked on the landing strip toward a private jet, owned by Zemo.
"So all this time you've been rich?"
"I was a Baron, Sam. My family was royalty before your friends destroyed my country," Zemo explained, before glancing at you with a small smile. "But you knew that already."
"Wait, how did she know that?" Sam asked, then turned to you. "How did you know that?"
"I am Sokovian myself. I was certainly not royalty, but I lived there for my entire life, until it was destroyed," you explained, stopping outside the jet as Zemo greeted the elderly butler, Oeznik, in your native language. It made you smile to yourself; it had been years since you'd heard it spoken. Zemo shot you a grin when he noticed, and when you took a peek into his mind, you saw that he understood exactly how you felt.
As the butler handed Zemo a flute of champagne after you all boarded the jet, the Baron smiled politely as Oeznik stated, “Apologies if that's a little warm. The fridge is out, but I will see if there is some good food in the galley.”
Zemo glanced as you sat across from him, then in Sokovian, Zemo told Oeznik, "Another flute for the lady, please. And if the food does not pass the smell test, give it to the gentlemen."
"It's good to have you back, sir!"
As the man retreated to the cockpit, also in Sokovian, you noted, "You are a mischievous man, even more so than in your infamously criminal ways."
"You will find that there is more to me than meets the eye, angel," he responded coolly, the Sokovian language rolling off his tongue like honey. Before you could respond, admittedly enjoying speaking Sokovian, Sam grew tired of everyone speaking a language he couldn't understand.
"Why don't you tell us about where we're going?"
After a tense exchange between Bucky and Zemo, followed by a discussion about Marvin Gaye, Zemo finally got to the point: Madripoor. You exhaled slowly, resting your forehead in your palm in exasperation.
“You couldn’t have invited me on a mission to Cancun? Or Paris? Why must it be Madripoor?” you asked Bucky, who shot you a tight-lipped, pitying smile, silently apologizing for what he was dragging you into.
“What’s up with Madripoor? You guys talk about it like it’s Skull Island.”
“It’s an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s,” Bucky explained.
“And upon seeing it, you would see that times there haven’t changed one bit since then,” you added.
“It’s kept its lawless ways. But we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone,” Zemo said.
You frowned as you caught a glimpse of Bucky’s thoughts as he went silent. Fear. Anxiety. Disdain. Apprehension. You reached across to rest your hand on his shoulder and give it a reassuring squeeze. He shot you a small smile, then looked out the window.
Upon landing in Madripoor, one of Zemo’s contacts met you on the landing strip with a new wardrobe for you, Bucky, and Sam, and Zemo explained that each outfit was per his instruction, carefully chosen to fit the role each of you would be playing in Madripoor. One by one, you took the covered clothes hanger to the bathroom of the jet and changed. Bucky was first, stepping out in some sort of leather number, looking eerily similar to the Winter Soldier you’d seen in photos. Sam was next, donning a three-piece suit of burgundy and gold. He looked sharp, although he was immediately complaining about how ostentatious it was. And finally, you stepped into the room and closed the door behind you, unzipping the covering on the hanger and revealing your “carefully chosen” outfit.
“Ich werde dir im Schlaf die Eier abreißen, Zemo!”
Bucky choked on his water and Zemo chuckled under his breath, while Sam looked between the two in confusion.
“I don’t know what she said, but she sounded pissed,” he observed, eyeing Zemo suspiciously.
“She informed me that she intends to remove my testicles in my sleep.”
“And why is that?”
“Perhaps because he’s chosen to parade me around Madripoor like a cheap whore,” you said angrily, stepping out of the bathroom with your hands on your hips, glaring at Zemo.
“That dress is by Armani Prive, and your shoes are Louboutins – far from ‘cheap.’ And you do not look like a whore, the dress is merely more revealing than what you are used to,” Zemo argued, standing and walking over to survey your outfit. He seemed to be enjoying what he saw, judging from the way his eyes raked up and down your body, but you didn’t dare check his thoughts to confirm or deny it.
If you were honest with yourself, he was right. It was a very nice dress; plum purple, matching the color of Zemo’s turtleneck, with long, fitted sleeves, all of it made of the softest silk you had ever touched. It was fitted at the top but flowy from the hips down, with a low balconette-style neckline, showing more of your chest than you were accustomed to, although you pulled it off quite nicely. It ended just above your knees, which was fine, as you sometimes wore skirts of that length. Overall, the luxury of it and the low-cut neckline ensured that you were out of your comfort zone, but you looked stunning – and expensive, despite your spite-fueled initial claim.
“I thought the color would look nice on you, and I was right. And I knew that the flow of the fabric at the bottom would allow for this,” Zemo said, his hand gingerly trailing from your waist to your thigh, where he pulled up the hem of your dress slightly to reveal the edge of the Glock strapped into your thigh holster. He smirked as his suspicion was confirmed. He knew you’d find a way to arm yourself, regardless of what you wore.
In hindsight, the way Zemo touched your side and lifted your skirt was all far more intimate than you should have allowed, and yet… you couldn’t deny the way your breath caught in your throat when he touched you, or how his close proximity made your body temperature rise, as he gazed down at you with those intense brown eyes.
Christ, you needed to get laid. Soon. Before you further entertained the idea of jumping the bones of a highly wanted criminal.
“Touch me like that again, and I will kill you where you stand,” you informed him sternly, and Zemo immediately took a step backwards, looking apologetic. From the corner of your eye, you saw both Sam and Bucky visibly relax, tension leaving their shoulders. You had read their thoughts briefly, and they were both wondering why the hell you were so calm about getting cozy with Zemo. The absolute last thing you wanted was for them to know that you were, in fact, inexplicably drawn to being that close to the Baron.
As the four of you walked along a bridge in Madripoor, Sam was quick to resume his complaining.
“We have to do something about this. I’m the only one who looks like a pimp.”
“Only an American would assume a fashion-forward Black man looks like a pimp. You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing. The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.”
“He even has a bad nickname,” Sam grumbled, then looked at the phone Zemo handed him. “Hell, he does look like me, though.”
“And who am I supposed to be?” you inquired, glancing down at your clothing to see if you could guess who you were meant to be portraying. An heiress or socialite, perhaps.
“My fiancée,” Zemo answered simply, the faintest smile on his lips.
You barked out a crude laugh, “Oh, I think not.”
“There is no one involved with Madripoor who looks like you. And it is rare that there are newcomers to the island, especially not in the place we’re going. Pretending you are someone random would raise concerns about the intentions of your presence; you would be perceived as a potential threat, which would jeopardize our mission. It is far easier to simply pretend we are engaged, I assure you.”
You hesitated a moment, before arguing, “No one will believe that we are engaged.”
Zemo pulled something from the inside pocket of his jacket, took your left hand, and slipped it onto your ring finger. It was a solitaire diamond ring; not large enough to be gaudy, but enough to catch anyone’s eye.
“They will if you play your part well,” he told you, then addressed the rest of your party when he added, “No matter what happens, we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it. There is no margin for error.”
The four of you reached a sleek black car, and climbed in, you in the back between Sam and Bucky. The ride to Low Town was tense and silent, as each of you mentally prepared for what lay ahead. When you arrived, Zemo offered you his hand as you exited the car, and the pointed look in his eyes told you that it was time to begin playing your part. You took his hand, and as you began walking into the heart of Low Town, he laced his fingers with yours. As the crowd drew near, Zemo wrapped his arm around your shoulders, gloved fingers brushing against the exposed skin of your shoulder. After reading his mind, you realized that it was both for the sake of protecting you, and showing possessiveness to make it believable that you were his girl – and because he simply enjoyed having your body close, although you suspected that he’d rather you have not known that.
Despite the fact that you had been on a few missions for SHIELD, you were not exactly incapable of fear; you did not possess nerves of steel. All of the missions you’d been on were low-profile, and you were mostly just there for the sake of gathering information from those reluctant to share it. Sure, you’d been in danger before, you’d had to fight your way out of several sticky situations, but this… this was different. You were in the crime capital of the world, a lawless place filled to the brim with crooks, thieves, and murderers. More than likely, any given person around could slit your throat and never bat an eye or give you a second thought. Swallowing your own pride in the face of fear prompted you to return Zemo’s gesture, wrapping your arm around his waist and sticking close to him, which earned a smile from the man.
When you arrived at your destination, Zemo approached the bar and leaned against it confidently on one arm, the other still wrapped firmly around your shoulders.
“Hello, gentleman,” the bartender greeted, before his eyes fell on you. “Who’s your new lady friend, Baron?”
“My fiancée,” Zemo answered, then turned to you and ran his finger along your jawline, as you looked at him in adoration. “Isn’t she lovely?”
“Very,” the bartender acknowledged, then turned to Sam. “Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.”
“His plans changed. We have business to do with Selby,” Zemo responded.
The bartender made ‘Smiling Tiger’ his usual drink, which apparently consisted of… something he cut out of a snake, and dropped in a shot glass with a bit of liquor. You shared a look with Bucky before he turned away to survey the room, and when you read his thoughts, you found that you both desperately wanted to laugh out loud at Sam’s ‘short end of the stick’ situation, but didn’t want to risk everyone’s lives for the sake of a chuckle. You returned your attention to Zemo, opting to sell the whole “fiancée” thing a bit more by turning into him and tracing patterns on his chest as you gazed at him affectionately, while the bartender handed you and Zemo each a shot glass of your own – sans snake organs, thankfully. You both downed yours, while Sam understandably struggled a bit more with his, but still managed it.
A random man approached Zemo then, and as Zemo turned to face him, he protectively moved you behind him a bit.
“I got word from on high. You ain’t welcome here.”
“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me…” Zemo countered, gesturing toward Bucky, who looked menacing as he pretended to be the Winter Soldier. “Or bring Selby for a chat.”
After a weary look in Bucky’s direction, the man walked away, and Zemo turned back around to face the bar, this time keeping you in between him in the bar, in case someone were to come up behind him – which they did a few moments later.
“Winter Soldier… attack,” Zemo commanded in Russian, as a different man came up and laid a hand on Zemo’s shoulder. With a pained look in his eye that quickly shifted to cold determination, Bucky grabbed the man’s hand with his vibranium arm, twisting it as he removed it from Zemo’s shoulder. Zemo took a step away from the bar to allow you room to turn and observe as Bucky beat the absolute shit out of various challengers. Zemo wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him as he noted, “Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.”
The unmistakable sound of numerous guns cocking drew your attention away from the altercation, and Zemo gently pushed you behind him as he surveyed the room to note all the weapons drawn. Sam grabbed Bucky’s bionic arm to stop him, but Zemo whispered, “Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us.”
“Well done, soldier,” Zemo then said to Bucky in Russian, signaling for the ‘Winter Soldier’ to stop.
“Selby will see you now,” the bartender interjected, and Bucky released his grip on the random man’s throat.
“Thank you,” Zemo responded, walking off to find Selby, grabbing your hand to guide you, but not before you spared a sorrowful glance at Bucky as your friends followed closely behind.
As Zemo took a seat on a couch across from Selby, you sat close to him, crossing your legs gracefully as you leaned into him, your arm wrapped around his as he clasped his hands in his lap authoritatively. You watched his exchange with Selby in silence, as did Sam – and Bucky, of course, considering he was pretending to be the Winter Soldier.
“By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison,” Selby told Zemo, then smiled as she looked you up and down, before her eyes found the diamond ring. “And not engaged – to a woman far out of your league, I might add.”
“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” Zemo answered calmly, then looked over at you, staring into your eyes with warmth and adoration, and you smiled lovingly at him. “My beautiful fiancée was a guard at the prison. We fell in love over the years, and she helped me escape. Anyway, I’m sure you have already figured out what I’m here for.”
The conversation went relatively smoothly after that, until Sam’s goddamn phone rang and screwed the entire operation. In the blink of an eye, Selby was shot dead, you had shot two of the guards with the gun strapped to your thigh, and Sam and Bucky had each knocked out one, before Zemo suggested sneaking out of the bar as best you could, without any weapons. You secured your gun back in its holster, not missing the way Zemo watched as you hiked your dress up to do so, before making a break for it with the three of them.
Once you were on the streets of Madripoor, bounty hunters began to come out of the woodwork, and when they began shooting at you, Zemo abruptly grabbed your hand and ran down a nearby alleyway. As you were running, the heel of your stiletto caught on a grate, and you’d have fallen flat on your face if Zemo hadn’t caught you.
“Are you alright?” he asked hurriedly, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he supported you, before standing you back onto your feet. You nodded, and he glanced over your shoulder as he noticed a few men looking down the alley. “Forgive me.”
You were about to ask what he was talking about, but then Zemo abruptly grabbed you by the backs of your thighs and lifted you up, pinned you against the wall behind you, and kissed you.
The men at the end of the alleyway muttered something about “freaks who do it in public,” then their footsteps faded as they walked off, clearly thinking the two of you were some overly horny couple, not two of the people with an insane bounty on their heads. But you were barely paying them any attention, a bit preoccupied with the fact that Zemo was fucking kissing you, and much to your chagrin, you really fucking liked it.
Once there were no more voices and no more footsteps, Zemo broke the kiss and sat you down. The two of you stared at each other for a moment, before you heard more gunshots, and you broke into a run in the direction Bucky and Sam had gone, desperate to find your friends, and no time to process what the hell just happened.
As soon as you caught up with them, the two bounty hunters nearby were shot dead, and the four of you turned to see Sharon Carter emerging from the shadows.
An hour later, you found yourself in her swanky home in High Town, in a change of clothes, since the brick wall Zemo had held you up against ripped the back of your silk dress. You lied to Sam and Bucky, saying that it happened because you fell while running in your heels, and thankfully, they believed you. Sharon commanded the four of you to lay low and enjoy the party, which Sam and Bucky left her living room to go do, entrusting you with ‘Zemo watch.’
It seemed as though he was merely nursing his brandy in lieu of abandoning it for the party prior to finishing it off, but his eyes were on you most of the time. You didn't necessarily believe he could be plotting to overpower you and run off, but there is always that possibility, so you delved into his mind to check.
Expecting to find thoughts of strategy about how to defeat the super soldiers or travel plans, or even plots to escape you, Bucky, and Sam, you were astounded to find nothing but thoughts of you.
The way it felt to kiss you in that alleyway, and how he had monetarily debated just staying there, having his way with you against the brick wall before Sam and Bucky could locate you. The dress from the bar, and how it rested on your thighs, revealing just enough to have his mouth watering without being revealing to the point of immodesty. The way your necklace currently rested against your bare collarbone, and how desperately he craved to litter the area with love bites. The delicate skin of your throat, thinking of how it would look with his hand wrapped around it, just enough to cut off a bit of air but not enough harm you. How alluring your voice is, and how much he'd like to know what it would sound like to hear you scream his name. The softness and warmness of your skin when he had his arm around you in the bar, and when he held your hand as you fled the scene, and he wondered how soft and warm you were elsewhere.
"Your thoughts are filthy."
He bristled immediately, sitting straighter in his seat and eyes going slightly wide, either forgetting you can read minds or not realizing you'd be doing it right then. It only took a moment for him to regain his composure, before he took one long, last drink of his brandy and set the glass on the table in front of him. He turned his whole body to the side to face you, as you sat on the opposite end of the couch, wearing a small, somewhat mischievous smile.
"I suppose there is no sense in denying it, is there?"
"What game are you playing, Zemo?" you snapped. He was rattling you. As much as you hated to admit it, he was. For the entirety of the time you'd been around him, this wanted criminal had been flustering you, and goddammit it, you wanted to know if it was accidental, or for nefarious purposes. He could be using it as a tactic to throw you off your game, so that he could get away when it was just the two of you – like right now.
"There is no game, Liebling," he stated softly and sincerely, sensing your discomfort. Slowly, he scooted closer to you on the couch, so that the arm he had laid across the back of it was now behind you, as he stared intently into your eyes. "Merely the natural response of a man who has been widowed and then locked in a prison cell, and therefore has not known the touch of a woman in many years, sitting next to a woman of absolute ethereal beauty."
You said nothing, merely stared at him, sizing him up to see if he was toying with you or telling the truth. Zemo sensed your lack of belief in his words.
"If you doubt my true intentions, you are welcome to delve as deep into my mind as you'd like to find the truth."
In all honesty, you'd have done that already if you weren't trying to avoid being even more flustered by his thoughts about you – but you couldn't tell him that. So, you did as he bade you, and searched his mind to find any shred of malevolence towards you, but you came out empty-handed. Zemo genuinely just wanted you, craved you, like a starved man sitting in front of an endless buffet. He watched you carefully as you came to this conclusion, and although you said nothing further, he knew that you had found what you needed to know.
"Just say the word, and I will never approach the topic again, as well as attempt to quiet my thoughts about you. But if there is any part of you... deep inside you," Zemo paused, eyes grazing you up and down purposefully, before continuing, "that has any interest in being with me... I will do anything to bring that to fruition."
The ball was in your court now. You could tell him to get bent and never speak to you like this again… or you could get your rocks off, and maybe even get something more in return.
"Such as?"
"Name it, Schätzchen. Anything you want. A car, a mansion, jewels – say it and it's yours, if you will be mine," Zemo proposed earnestly, licking his lips quickly as he looked at you, visibly thrilled that he was getting somewhere with you.
You weren't the type to accept gifts from men you barely know, but… this was Zemo. A man who had done a great many terrible things, which soothed your guilty conscience. So, you said the first thing that came to mind.
"A car," you blurted out, then explained, "Mine broke down a week ago, and it's beyond repair, so… a car."
"Tell me the make and model of your preference and I'll have it delivered to your home within a week's time," Zemo said calmly, then brushed a lock of hair away from your face, before allowing his fingers to trail delicately along your cheek and jawline. "Is that all, Kätzchen?"
"No. One more thing," you replied, then looked at him sternly. "You must agree to never speak of this to Bucky or Sam."
"You have my word," he assured you, smiling in amusement.
"Then I'm yours."
Zemo's smile faded slowly, and he merely stared at you for a split second, before cupping your face in his hands and pulled you into a searing kiss, full of ferocity and sheer desperation. It shouldn't have been this easy, to kiss a man who's done such terrible things – yet here you were, melting into his embrace, allowing him to pull you into his lap and straddle him, your hands resting on his shoulders and gripping the black fabric of his turtleneck. His hands laid flat against your back as he kissed you in this new position, slowly gliding down, down your sides and to your hips. He kissed you in a way that was feverish and fast and hungry, as his fingers dug into your skin, holding you firmly against him as if he were fearful that this was all a dream and you'd disappear at any moment. Upon taking a peek into his mind, you realized that was actually exactly what he was thinking. Additionally, he mentally spoke to you directly, somehow knowing you were reading his thoughts at that moment.
"Tell me if I do anything that you do not like, and know that you have absolute freedom to end this at any given moment."
You pulled away slightly to nod in confirmation that you received his message, before resuming the kiss. Mind hazy and instincts taking over, you found yourself tugging his bottom lip between your teeth, earning a low groan from Zemo. One of his hands darted upwards to grab a fistful of your hair, right against your scalp at the base of your neck, and he pulled on it harshly, causing you to let out a wonton moan. He then laid that hand flat against the back of your neck, holding your lips firmly against his as he kissed you with even more fervor, and the other vacated its position on your hip to slide slowly up your torso, until he began palming your beast through your shirt. You moaned softly against his lips, but not as loudly as a moment ago.
Zemo wanted more, needed more; he longed to hear you loud and desperate. So he delved that hand at your neck back into your hair, gripping it tightly once more, and used it to pull your head backwards a bit, so that he could have better access to your neck. The action itself, and the tightness of his grip, earned an embarrassingly loud moan to escape your lips, and you felt him smile against your skin. He moved his hand to the middle of your back, supporting you as you leaned back a bit to grant him better access. As he littered your neck and décolletage with kisses, you felt him pull the neckline of your blouse down a little, then felt the sharp pain of a bite on your chest, above your breast. When you looked at him with narrowed eyes, he wore a cocky little grin.
"You should not be surprised, Liebling. I know you saw that I've been wanting to do that all day when you read my mind," he noted. "Wear a high neckline tomorrow, it will be fine."
Before you could respond, Zemo pulled you flush against his chest with that hand behind your back, and into another heated kiss. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and without thinking, you ground your hips down on the bulge resting against your core beneath your skirt. He groaned, both hands flying to your hips to push them down again, guiding them as you repeated the action. It only took a minute or two of this before Zemo had enough, abruptly grabbing you by the throat and throwing you down onto the couch beside him. He then loomed over you, one hand propping himself up and the other applying slight pressure to your throat, gazing at you with admiration in those searing eyes, pupils blown wide from lust. You looked right back at him, pupils undoubtedly dilated as well, eyes half-lidded, panting a little, and hair a bit of a mess.
"You are an absolute vision," Zemo praised softly, to which you smiled, then he released his grip on your neck to lean down and kiss you again. That only lasted a moment, before he broke the kiss to pull your blouse up and over your head, tossing it carelessly to the side. Your bra joined it shortly after, then he moved to your skirt, fussing with the zipper for a moment, but it seemed to be caught on something, as it wouldn't budge. Before you could interject and state that you'd get the zipper yourself, Zemo ripped the seam apart with his hands, before tearing the article from your body and tossing it like he had with the blouse. A gasp escaped you, but you had no time to think much about his actions, before he was pulling off your panties and bra as well, dropping them somewhere beside the couch.
He was then looming over you again, kissing you breathless as he rested on one elbow while the other hand toyed with your nipple, his knee coming up to rest between your legs as he laid between your body and the back of the couch. You tangled your fingers in Zemo's hair, moaning against his lips as you sought friction against his leg. He smiled softly against your lips, before your hands wandered, finding the hem of his shirt and tugging it off of him. You had just managed to get his belt off before his hand left your breast, trailing downwards across your torso as he moved his knee further away from you, before delving between your hips and expertly locating your clit.
No longer capable of focusing on ridding Zemo of his clothes, your hands gripped his shoulders, and he hissed deliciously as your nails dug into his skin when he began rubbing small, methodical circles on your clit. Small moans fell from your lips as he watched the way your mouth hung open slightly, face relaxed and eyes closed as you enjoyed his work. But again, he wanted more, needed more. Still observing you, he delved his middle and ring fingers into your core, causing you to let out a loud gasp that faded into a long, low moan. Zemo smiled to himself. That was the reaction he was dying for.
He kissed you senseless, drinking in your moans and gasps of pleasure like wine, his free hand cradling the back of your head as your arms wrapped around his neck. It didn't take Zemo long to find that sweet spot, deep inside you – as he'd subtly alluded to earlier – that longed for his attention the most.
You couldn't help but moan loudly and cry out, "Fuck! Baron!" Zemo growled low in your ear, clearly a fan of your usage of his title as he picked up the pace, fucking you with his fingers with expert precision and speed, sending you hurtling over the edge with a string of curses in both Sokovian and English. By the time he removed his fingers from you and stood, you were seeing stars, breathing heavily as you laid flat against the couch. When your dazed gaze found him, he was naked from the waist down, and was just finishing rolling a condom over his length. You had no idea where he got it from, but you were way beyond giving a shit at this point. Zemo then rejoined you on the couch, roughly spreading your legs apart as he kneeled between them, looking at you with a primal, deep hunger in his eyes.
"You are certain that you want this?"
"Yes, please – fuck," you cut yourself off as he began rubbing your clit again.
"Yes please, what?" His voice was low, teasing, as he continued his work below. "I want to hear you say it again, Kätzchen."
"Yes, please, Baron."
"Good girl."
Zemo took your leg and rested your calf on his shoulder, before easing himself into you, agonizingly slow. You watched through half-lidded eyes as his brows furrowed together, his jaw went slack, and his eyes squeezed shut as he bottomed out. He was silent, but you very much preferred it when he was a bit vocal. So, you flexed your muscles down there, and he groaned, letting his forehead fall against your shoulder.
"Do not do that if you want this to last long," Zemo suggested through clenched teeth. You smiled to yourself, then said the magic word that you knew would get him going.
"Yes, Baron."
He growled again, right in your ear, then sat more upright to begin a harsh, quick pace of thrusting. His hips collided with your body each time, causing a delicious sort of pain, and he leaned down to lock you in a messy, deep kiss.
A few minutes later, Zemo moved your other calf to his shoulder as well, and the new position enabled him to get delectably deep inside you. You raked your nails down his chest, watching as a shudder ran down his spine, all the while releasing small, breathless moans and whimpers. When he opened his eyes again to gaze down at you, he licked his lips before delving both hands under your head and into your hair, and forcefully gripped two fitfuls of it at the base of your skull. The moan that tore its way from your throat was animalistic, as your nails dug into his forearms as you desperately gripped them from their positions on either side of your head. Just then, he hit a spot deep inside of you, and that familiar, tight coil in your lower belly began to form.
"Fuck! Right there, Baron, please, right there!"
"As you wish, Schätzchen."
Zemo began to thrust even faster, careful to maintain the same angle as he released his grip on your hair and leaned up a bit, so that he could resume rubbing your clit. Moans began to fall from your lips practically endlessly, and somehow, you still needed more. More, more, more. You took his free hand and laid it on your neck, and he instinctively wrapped his fingers around your throat, careful to apply pressure on the sides but not the front, as to avoid harming you. When he opened his eyes once again and looked down at you, he couldn't stop the moan that escaped him.
"You will be the death of me, mein Engel," Zemo whispered, seemingly more to himself. All you could do was moan in response.
"Baron, I'm going to – fuck – I'm —"
"Yes, come for me, Kätzchen. I want to feel you."
That was all the encouragement it took. Well, that plus how perfectly he was rubbing your bundle of nerves, and how his pace nor angle had faltered once since you had requested exactly that. You came undone again, legs shaking as your nails clawed at his shoulder blades, earning a series of groans from him. As you came down from your high, Zemo's hips began to falter, enthralled by the waterfall you had become, soaking the base of his cock as your walls squeezed around him. His hand at your wet heat abruptly moved to grip your hip, at the same moment his hand around your throat clutched at your hair again, and he met his end with a loud, gruff moan as he spoke a mantra of nonsensical praises and your name.
Zemo rested on his arms on either side of your head, and he let your legs fall to the sides of him, breathing hard against your neck as he occasionally peppered kisses there. He remained inside you for a few moments, savoring the feeling, before you chose to have a bit of extra fun by flexing your lower muscles and squeezing yourself around him again. With a sharp intake of breath, he pulled out of you, shooting you a glare.
In Sokovian, he murmured, "You are a naughty little thing."
"You adore it."
"That I do," Zemo conceded, then stood and walked off to the restroom. You heard the tap run, and a few moments later, he returned with a glass of water for you, sitting beside your feet on the couch and resting his heels on the coffee table. He was exceptionally handsome like this; still catching his breath, sweat glistening on his forehead and chest, a content look upon his face. You spent a minute or two admiring him, before he looked over to you, and a smile blossomed on his lips.
"I cannot thank you enough for that. I must admit, I spent countless nights alone in my cell, dreaming about getting to touch a woman like that again. Especially considering the fall of our country, I never could have imagined I would be lucky enough to lay with a stunning, intelligent Sokovian woman."
"In the spirit of confessions, it's been a while for me, too. My last boyfriend was about two years ago. And I'm not the one-night-stand type. So, do with that what you will," you stated, earning a small chuckle from Zemo. You sat up so that you were sitting beside him, instead of laying down, as you continued. "I fantasized about it a lot myself, but I never even dared to think my next time would be as good as this was."
Zemo smiled, a mix of pride and joy, then his smile softened as he leaned toward you, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. "This doesn't have to be our last time, you know. I would be honored to have you as often as you'd allow me to. And I assure you, I would make it worth your while. I will give you whichever vehicles your heart desires, more jewelry than you know what to do with, take you to the most beautiful places in the world, dine at only the finest restaurants – and above all, treat you like my queen. Take care of me, and I will take care of you, Liebling."
You allowed your curiosity to get the better of you, as usual when you feared that someone was lying to you. You searched his mind for any fraction of false pretenses, but there were none. The man simply found you intoxicating, and would do whatever it takes to keep drinking you in.
The arrangement wouldn't exactly be an easy one, nor would it be all that wise – nor morally correct, in all honesty. But he was undeniably sexy, and the danger and reprehensibility of it all made it that much more alluring. And besides all that – the way his power and wealth turned you on, how good he was capable of making you feel – most Sokovians were dead, and you missed home. Getting to speak your native tongue with him, chat about your country – it made you feel at home with him.
But you wouldn't give Zemo the satisfaction of agreeing to him that quickly.
“We'll see.”
—————
Part Two
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asteroid amor
°.✩┈┈┈┈∘*┈┈୨♡୧┈┈*∘┈┈┈┈✩.° °.✩┈┈┈┈∘*┈┈୨♡୧┈┈*∘┈┈┈┈✩.°
asteroid amor 1221 indicates the partner you desire but it also shows how you love, this is how i think how people love based on what sign their asteroid amor falls in
°.✩┈┈┈┈∘*┈┈୨♡୧┈┈*∘┈┈┈┈✩.°°.✩┈┈┈┈∘*┈┈୨♡୧┈┈*∘┈┈┈┈✩.°
°.✩┈┈┈┈∘*┈┈୨♡୧┈┈*∘┈┈┈┈✩.° °.✩┈┈┈┈∘*┈┈୨♡୧┈┈*∘┈┈┈┈✩.°
amor in aries shows love through passion. they put so much passion in everything they do and with everyone they love. they try to cheer people up and are easily noticed. they are extremely energetic and outgoing. they are friendly to everyone but they may be quit biased with the ones they love
amor in taurus shows love through support. they will show you your worth. when they are jealous, they hype you up, when they aren't, they would hype you up even more. they cry over the thought of you missing your self worth. they give a warm and comfy vibe and have an overly pleasant voice
amor in gemini shows love through words. with an exceptional vocabulary, they would select the most inspiring words from it. they have deep, meaningful words that could make you smile in no time
amor in cancer shows love through kindness. they will help you no matter what. like a mother figure, they will take care of you and nurture you. they will make sure that you are loved and if no one is going to say it, they will be the first to.
amor in leo shows love through generosity. they are overly generous people and they have no boundaries on themselves when it comes to friends and family. they seriously never stop giving.
amor in virgo shows love through advice. they give you advice, even if it is unwanted. if you disagree with them, it may lead to criticism. they are wise and have a lot of experience with things and even if they didn’t, they would still know what to do and share it with you.
amor in libra shows love through equality. it’s literally so easy getting attached to them?? they deeply care about feelings so it’s rare of them to complain to people they care about which is majority of earth’s population. they are so unproblematic as well??
amor in scorpio shows love through trust. you can always trust them. they will try their best to not break a promise because they really do care. they open up slowly in the cutest way. really funny. doesn’t know what to do when you cry
amor in sagittarius shows love through honesty. mad honest. they will try to avoid lying and they give honest validation in the nicest way possible. charming and silly. direct, independent and witty beings.
amor in capricorn shows love through effort. they will prove that they care for you by trying, trying their best to give you what you want. like amor in aries but less energy and more work. sugar daddy energy. potential to get rich because of their ambition.
amor in aquarius shows love through acceptance. they are accepting and say things like “everyone is special” they are non-judgmental and charming. smiles at the loners in a welcoming way and help people gain confidence
amor in pisces shows love through empathy. non judgmental and soft. admirable and adorable! nature loves them. they use their intuition daily. they dearly respect others and it’s soo sweet.
°.✩┈┈┈┈∘*┈┈୨♡୧┈┈*∘┈┈┈┈✩.° °.✩┈┈┈┈∘*┈┈୨♡୧┈┈*∘┈┈┈┈✩.°
°.✩┈┈┈┈∘*┈┈୨♡୧┈┈*∘┈┈┈┈✩.° °.✩┈┈┈┈∘*┈┈୨♡୧┈┈*∘┈┈┈┈✩.°
amor in the 1st is openly loving. they want to love everyone and is seen as kind
amor in the 2nd has an AMAZING voice. they offer everyone comfort and seeks money
amor in the 3rd charms through words. a motivated and loving attitude. liked by majority of their schoolmates
amor in the 4th is a family person. not the best family relationship but deeply cares.
amor in the 5th is the kindest to kids, especially if it’s in cancer. silly and thoughtful
amor in the 6th genuine and giving. makes a lot of sacrifices. secure and hygienic
amor in the 7th loves their partner the most. they are devoted and loving towards their partner, seeks harmony
amor in the 8th is a very private person. they immensely understand people but they don’t show their care most the time.
amor in the 9th is an independent being. may find their s/o out of traveling
amor in the 10th has an outstanding reputation. they are loving towards their officemates and MAD attractive
amor in the 11th is the best friend. tech geek. intelligent and rebellious
amor in the 12th is intuitive, probably psychic too (mostly if it is a water sign) secretly a softie
°.✩┈┈┈┈∘*┈┈୨♡୧┈┈*∘┈┈┈┈✩.° °.✩┈┈┈┈∘*┈┈୨♡୧┈┈*∘┈┈┈┈✩.°
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Kakegurui character headcanons that are canon in my eyes (Part 3)
Midari:
You already know this bitch has done hard drugs. She’s probably a dealer at Hyakkaou too ngl
Actually very intelligent and could get all A’s if she cared enough to
Canonly lesbian
She/they vibes
Hardcore energy drink consumer. Monster and Redbull cans are all over the floor of her dorm room
If you simp for her… ya got mommy and daddy issues, luv-
Is physically touchy toward everyone, but lowkey recoils when someone she doesn’t know or trust touches her
Actively tries to annoy the shit out of both Sayaka and Yuriko as her way of showing her affection
Night person
I can see her actively practicing witchcraft
Favorite holiday is Halloween
Probably has a glass eye somewhere but doesn’t bother putting it in because the eyepatch is a ✨look✨
Was the kid in school who ate glue or play dough
Is best friends with Sayaka. Do not fight me on this
Needs to go to therapy. Honestly, who doesn’t in that school
Weapon of choice is her revolver, of course <3
Will often lay in Yuriko’s lap because Yuriko actually lets her. It’s one of her favorite things to do when she needs to unwind
Slytherin. 100% a Slytherin.
Has at least one tattoo somewhere and nipple piercings too if we’re being honest
Can’t stand hot weather and prefers the cold
Avid fan and listener of the band Mother Mother
Canonly almost shot a person on accident or on purpose with her revolver
Will flirt with Kirari just to piss off Sayaka
Will flirt with Yuriko just to see her get flustered
(Y’all can come after me all you want for this one) Has a crush on Yuriko
ESTP-A personality type
Has a pet tarantula
Most likely had a pen explode in her mouth while she was chewing on it in class at some point
Everyone asks “where is Midari?” but no one asks “how is Midari?”
Favorite color is black or purple
For SURE owns at least one choker
Yuriko:
Refuses to take hard drugs but has accidentally gotten high off her ass from an edible. Midari’s edible, mind you
Is the mom friend of the group
Owns a minivan and drives Midari and Runa places
Has a dent on the side of the same minivan because Midari hit the side of it with a shopping cart that Runa was in
Nurse vibes tbh
Keeps her eyes closed because she’s lowkey blind and can’t see much anyway
Ravenclaw all the way
Was a horse girl in elementary school
Has either really beautiful emerald green eyes or average Hudson-river colored brown eyes. Will we ever know?
Is secretly a cat girl. Why else do you think I used that image in particular for her
Easily flustered
Has a crush on Midari but is still confused about her sexuality
She sure as hell ain’t straight tho. Not in that school...
An only child
Is struggling, but wears a smile regardless
Stepped on a butterfly once and sobbed
Ya know... say what you want, but I get vegetarian/vegan vibes from her
Avid hot tea drinker
Has pollen allergies
Morning person
Prefers warmer weather and hates the rain
Has spa days with Yumemi once and a while
Can’t lift anything heavier than twenty pounds probably
Would be on the Volley ball team if she wasn’t head of the Culture Club
Several girls in her club have a huge crush on her and compete against Midari to gain her affection and attention
Has straight A’s
Idk why, but I can’t see her knowing how to swim
Gets cold easily
Wears kimonos even when she’s at home
Enjoys reading classical literature
Also enjoys listening to classical music
Would never admit this, but she listens to K-pop
Has a hidden talent for drawing
ISFJ-T personality type
Weapon of choice is a bo-staff (which is really just a broom stick) or Midari
Can speak Japanese, Korean, and Mandarin
Runa:
Has absolutely done crack and likely a handful of other drugs
Has a sugar addiction, but we already knew that one
G R E M L I N E N E R G Y
Most likely has ADHD or ADD or both even
I saw somewhere that said she’s 18?? Like, what?? She looks like she’s 12 tf...
Asexual/Aromatic icon
Hufflepuff vibes, but I can also kinda see her as a Slytherin
Jokingly homophobic towards Kirasaya and Yuridari
Will drink nothing aside from soda or energy drinks
Not a furry, contrary to popular belief. Just enjoys her onesies. Let her live her life jeez
Canonly a baddie
Short, but will not hesitate in destroying your kneecaps
Actually really close to the Momobami and Ikishima family
Plays video games with Midari almost every day after school since Aoi left
Ironically uses “UwU” and “Ara, ara” but does not ironically call people a simp. Can you blame her? She’s surrounded by wlw
Will beat you in Mario Cart. Yes she will. I don’t care how good you think you are
Has managed to not break a single bone in her body despite her size
Is good at every subject except for geography
Can’t drive, but owns a scooter which she’ll use to get to school if Yuriko is unable to drive her
Owns a pair of Heely’s with wheels
Unironically wears socks with sandals
Also wears crocs
Listens to rap
Is fast af. “Zoom, zoom, bitches!”
Secretly a badass gambler
Gets approximately 2-5 hours of sleep each night because she stays up playing video games
Naps during her classes
Listens and ignores whenever Kirari is pining over Sayaka and talking to her about it
ENFP-A personality type
I can see her owning a hedgehog for some reason, but also a rabbit
Would probably get away with murder if we’re being honest
Is not a natural blonde
Two faced. Like seriously, don’t get on this bitch’s bad side. She’ll destroy you
#kakegurui#kakegurui headcanons#midari ikishima#Yuriko Nishinotouin#runa yomozuki#midari x yuriko#yuridari#kirasaya#These headcanons are becoming more and more crackish#I rly wanna make one more of these
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i could be yours, i could be your baby tonight, topple you down from your sky forty stories high
summary: sugar daddy series: robert pronge. your dad has a long list of interesting employees, robert being one. (very light sugar daddy, more so the beginning of the relationship bc you know, he’s a murderer and that’s complex to work around).
warnings: mentions of guns, murder, mentions of other murders. sexual content, vaginal, oral, bondage, choking, hair-pulling, spanking. daddy kink obviously. there is a questionable scene with a dub-con vibe going on, but not in the way you would expect.
pairing: robert pronge x reader
word count: about 11,100 (and don’t even as me why it’s so long. for nothing, let me tell you. and i had to cut out so much bc it was so long)
a/n: not a r*pist in this story bc i’m just kinda not interested in writing him that way. lana lyrics bc she’s the reason I even have a daddy kink, so.
a/n 2: @donutloverxo (I blame you that I feel any type of way about this man. to be perfectly honest, I actually think he’s very attractive. someone needs to help me, thanks.)
You never thought your first time was going to be some sweet, romantic scene that reminded you of any movies, but this…this was so far out of the realm of what you had thought was possible. You, a virgin—a complex matter in itself—were bent over the knees of who you presumed was a serial killer—right? What were the exact qualifications of that label?
Your skirt was the only thing you still had on. He’d torn your shirt off the second he got you in the bedroom, and you weren’t wearing a bra or panties. Your shoes had been lost along the way, in the huge struggle you were putting up, trying to stop him from taking you anywhere. One might have ended up outside the house.
He had bent you over his lap and then tied your hands together behind your back. You were furious but since he was obviously in control, you decided not to voice your displeasure. You were simply waiting, trying not to move, trying not to make too much noise.
He liked this. He liked making you wait for what he was going to do to you. Technically speaking, you weren’t exactly an innocent party in all of this. But still. Was there no grace given to the virgin who only ever had boyfriends that were too scared to touch her because of her father?
Apparently not.
He smacked you once and you yelped, surprised, stunned that he actually did it. He didn’t lift your skirt, maybe that was his way of not going too hard on you. It wasn’t like he was going to win any awards for chivalry, but it made you smile anyway. For a second. Only a second. Because what the fuck?
You never told him he could do this to you. He was incorrigible and you were regretting your attraction to him immediately. Anyone else who dreamed of touching you like this, who even thought it, usually ended up disappearing.
How had your father missed him? Oh, right, you were responsible for that, too. You’d been lying to him since you were three. It was all the practice you needed, and now there you were being spanked by a violent man who was much older than you. Perhaps you should write a cautionary tale to children everywhere. Perhaps you could start with the warning to be wary of all ice cream trucks.
You soon discovered that that first hit wasn’t hard at all, he had held back quite a bit. The second hit, even over the material draped over your ass, stung horribly. Your eyes watered, you cried out, and he had to hold you down because you were attempting to move off his lap.
He let you settle before the third hit, as if that was supposed to help. It didn’t make anything hurt any less, and it didn’t stop your burning skin. The skirt was no longer helping, it was just an added layer of irritation.
This happened several more times and it was clear what he wanted. However, you would not beg him to stop, you would not beg him for anything. Truly, he could fuck off and the second he tried you, you would tell him as much. You clamped your mouth shut through it all, not that you were quiet, but it was the only defiant measure you had left.
It wasn’t until you were breathless, body bent loosely over his lap, your face pressing into his leg for just an ounce of comfort, that he spoke. “You could always say you’re sorry, princess.”
It took you several seconds to gain control of your own body back enough that you could speak. “Daddy?”
“Yes, baby girl?”
“Fuck. You.”
He laughed and you had to try so hard not to shiver, it was honestly a terrifying sound. “Such a god damn brat. Who let you get this way, hmm? Doesn’t matter, I suppose, because you’re going to be taught a lot about manners and behaving with me.”
“And who’s going to teach you?” you prompted.
“I don’t have to behave—”
“Right, because you’re a man,” you interjected. “Because you’re sexist.”
“I can’t have this conversation again,” he huffed. “Stop being so god damn sensitive.”
“Me?” you shot back. “I’m sensitive?! You’re throwing a temper tantrum because I—”
“Shut up or I’ll gag you.”
You immediately fell silent, and he scoffed.
“Of course, the threat of not being able to talk is simply too much for you.”
That wasn’t necessarily sexist in nature, but you knew him well enough that you knew it was how he meant it. You were keeping track, and you would collect what was owed to you from having to deal with his antiquated stereotypes.
He spanked you at least a dozen more times. You had stopped counting the hits, but instead counted down from 100. It was anger control and the serious amount of brain cells it took you to be able to count backward in this state was a huge distraction from the pain.
You only felt his fingers touching you for a second before he shoved two of them inside you. You gasped, once again attempting to pull away from him, it was a stretch but not an unpleasant one. He set his free hand down on your back and pinned you there, pulling his fingers out almost completely before pushing them back in.
“Daddy,” you whined. You wanted to tell him to stop. What the fuck? After what he just did to you? He did not deserve to touch you like this.
“And just like the brat you are, you’re fucking wet. Because I was spanking you. Nice to know that that’s something you enjoy—”
“I don’t!”
He moved his hand away from your cunt and lifted you by your shoulders to toss you back on the bed. You hissed as soon as your ass hit the mattress, and you shifted to try to move some of your weight off it.
He leaned over the edge of the bed, face just inches above yours, blue eyes staring deep into yours. “Oh, baby girl…” He kissed your cheeks, which you hadn’t realized were wet from tears, but they were. “You took that so well.”
Really? You cried. It hurt like absolute hell, weren’t you supposed to enjoy it? You immediately felt overestimated, but it was nice to hear him finally praising you for a change. As opposed to his usual routine of telling you that you were too curious, that you talked too much, that you didn’t take your safety seriously.
“You sure you didn’t like it?”
“Well…” You weren’t too sure now. You were wet, so didn’t that mean that you did? And it was him…he would never hurt you too much. You knew that, even if you were currently furious with him for being such a fucking dick.
“We’ll try it again,” he decided. “Later. I promise I’ll be gentler, okay?”
It didn’t seem like there was any harm in that. Gentler, you
liked when he was gentle with you. It spoke to that slightly narcissistic part of your soul that responded to being treated well by him when you knew he was such a cruel man that wasn’t gentle with anyone else. You nodded. “Okay.”
He smirked as he moved to the closet, returning with more rope. It was red this time, the one around your wrists was black. Why did he have so much rope? The pictures of his wife didn’t give off the idea that she liked sex at all, let alone this type of sex.
“I don’t like being tied up,” you claimed. There was this twisting in your stomach. Maybe you had trust issues—it wasn’t as if they weren’t warranted here, with him.
He arched an eyebrow. “How would you know that?”
It wasn’t that he was wrong, per se, but you did not want to be tied up anymore. He’d already bound your hands; you couldn’t hit him. What else could he possibly tie up? You didn’t want to find out.
He climbed onto the bed and you tried your hardest to crawl back, but your stupid hands were digging into your back painfully. He grabbed one of your legs and yanked you down, closer to him. “You were just so good for me, don’t mess it up.”
See, no one knew you were here. Once again, a mistake made by the one and only you. Not even your friends. What kind of person was partaking in a physical relationship with a man like this and just didn’t say anything?
He folded your calf up to your thigh and started tying. You did not like where this seemed to be going. He did so with the opposite leg and then looked up at you. “Too tight?”
Honestly, no. You didn’t like it, but that wasn’t what he asked. You shook your head. “It’s fine.”
He leaned over you again, pants brushing against your wet pussy. His hair fell forward, onto your shoulders or the bed around you. “Still not sorry?”
“Not at all.”
He tsked. “And to think, I just went shopping for you. To show you how much I appreciate your patience, show you how much of a good girl you’ve been lately… And then you go and mess it all up.”
So, on the list of things you would never try again, attempting to break up with him was at the very top of the list. It wasn’t that you stopped being attracted to him, it was…well, it was a million and one complicated things.
Very simply, he was wrong, you were right.
This morning, after he picked you up and hadn’t said a word to you, you wanted to end it. You never wanted to see him again. Unfortunately, your emotions stopped you from realizing that was probably the last thing you should ever say to a man like him.
“What did you get me?”
“You wanna see?”
You nodded.
“I don’t know…” he pretended to think about it. He stared at you, eyes moving over your face, but nothing was given away in his expression. You’d come to realize that that never meant anything good.
“Are you going to fuck me, daddy?”
“Yes.”
You tried not to look too pleased with the answer, mostly because you knew he was going to make you work for it. But hell, this was what the fight was all about. This was two months of waiting for him to touch you, that was all you wanted at the end of the day.
“If you want to come, you better start behaving. Do you understand?”
You nodded.
“Speak,” he ordered. “When I ask you a question, you use words to answer me.”
You swallowed. “Yeah, I understand.”
“Okay, I have a couple of rules. First, you can’t say no to daddy.”
“I won’t.”
“Second, you keep your legs open for me. No matter what.”
No matter what… That made you feel a bit nervous, but were you going to argue in this position? “Okay, I will.”
He moved off you and to the closet.
You wondered if your father would blame himself. When, if, he found out, would he hate himself for suggesting that this man drive you to school? You remembered that day, and you didn’t blame him. No one ever could have guessed that any of this was going to happen.
You had been running late that morning, trying to sneak alcohol into your bag for you and your friends, and your dad was threatening to revoke your allowance if you were late for school again. You had pitched a fit after he’d told you about Mr. Freezy. The last thing you wanted was to show up to school every morning in an ice cream truck.
Dr. Henricks usually drove you on Mondays, but he was “missing”. Because your dad didn’t let you drive. You were a college student, possibly the only one your age who was able-bodied with access to a car, who didn’t know how to drive. Because, according to your father, it was dangerous.
Regardless, why they called Dr. Hendricks a doctor if all he did was drive you around was beyond you, and why he was “missing�� was a mystery, too. You didn’t ask questions anymore; it wasn’t like you ever got any answers.
Mr. Freezy hadn’t been around too often before that day, but often enough that you remembered him. Another name that you hadn’t understood. When you were a child, you’d accepted that it was just because he was pretending to be an ice cream man. As you got older, you realized that most of them didn’t have names. He’d started showing up a lot more when you were 16, but you were long past sneaking around and trying to eavesdrop on your dad’s meetings at that point.
Your tantrum was silenced with your father’s credit card. You headed out with the task of convincing Mr. Freezy to take you and your friends shopping. You’d never spent more than a few minutes in the same room as him and never alone. You always took that to mean something—there were a few employees that your dad didn’t trust to leave you alone with. You’d always figured Mr. Freezy was one of them and his appearance seemed to be all the explanation you needed. Not that he was an unattractive man, but something was certainly off.
He was impatiently tapping his fingers on the steering wheel until he noticed you coming. He hurried out and opened the door for you without a word. His long hair was loose today, the same ugly glasses on his alarmingly aesthetic face. The only time you saw him without was when he was wearing sunglasses. He always wore the loudest shirts, this time an orange floral pattern button-up, tucked into tight, dark pants. He liked showing off his body.
You clutched the strap over your shoulder nervously. “Were you promoted or demoted?”
His eyebrows pulled together. “Excuse me?”
“You’ve never had to drive me before. So, promoted or demoted?”
“Transporting your father’s most precious belonging? I’d assume promoted.”
Your eyebrows shot up. “Wow, I’m more important than drugs and other stolen expensive items?”
He shrugged a shoulder, gesturing to the seat. “Suppose. Not that I agree.”
You tried to hide your smile as you climbed in. “Thanks for the honesty.”
He gently closed the door and jogged back to the driver’s side.
You settled in the set, tossing your bag down. “Why does it smell like bleach in here?”
“Why do you ask so many questions?” He started the truck and pointed to the house. “Say goodbye to your father.”
You turned to see him watching out the window. You waved, he smiled at you and did the same. Mr. Freezy was staring in the mirror as he backed out of the driveway. “So…are you picking me up, too?”
“Far as I know.”
“I need to go shopping after.”
“Nope, your father told me you try this shit with everyone.”
You pulled out the credit card. “Well, I threw a tantrum over you taking me to school, now I get to go shopping.”
He scoffed, looked purely delighted at the idea of you not liking this. “You don’t want me driving you?”
“Nothing personal, I just wanted to go shopping. So, you’re taking me and my friend after school is out.”
He sighed. “Is it gonna take long?”
“No,” you claimed. But you knew it was going to take as long as you wanted it to. No one rushed you, certainly not this guy. He wasn’t scary like some of the others.
He scoffed. “Right, because women don’t take hours shopping.”
“Don’t be sexist,” you warned. “Or I’ll tell my dad you’re not allowed to drive me. Promotion over before it started.”
“That’s not sexist, don’t be so sensitive.”
“Yes, it is,” you argued. “To place every single person of the same gender in a single category is sexist.”
“So, you’re not a bad driver?” he teased.
You glared. “That’s not funny.”
“You really don’t know how to drive? How old are you again?”
“Why? You wanna teach me?”
He scoffed. “That is not how this is gonna work, sweetheart. I do what your father says, not what you say. I’ve heard from your other drivers—the whole bratty routine isn’t going to work with me. I assume it helps that they also wanna do some pretty disgusting things to you, but—”
“Are you gay?”
He fell silent for a moment, turning to narrow his eyes at you. “What?”
“Everyone wants to fuck me,” you pointed out. “Either because they genuinely want to fuck me or because of some weird psychological hate they feel for my father that translates to wanting to fuck me. You just implied you don’t want to.”
“I didn’t imply—”
“So, you do?” You wouldn’t mind. All your father’s friends wanted to, sometimes it made things a lot easier. Not that you’d ever let any of his ugly, sleazy friends lay a hand on you, but you pretended you would. If they did this one thing for you, as you liked to claim while batting your eyelashes. Then, you let your father know they made you uncomfortable and they were gone.
“No. I said I didn’t imply that, and that’s because I didn’t get the chance to. Don’t interrupt people, it’s not cute. And don’t talk back to me, I won’t tolerate this attitude, you understand me? I’m the driver here. You irritate me, I’ll take you straight home.”
“So…are you going to be driving me from now on?”
“That’s how your father made it sound.”
“Do you know why?”
“Questions irritate me.”
“I guess they would irritate me too if I didn’t know the answers.”
“I never said I didn’t know.”
“This sounds like a demotion. You’re a chauffeur that’s left out of the loop.”
“Your other drivers are doing other shit.”
“More important shit,” you theorized.
“No, I’m doing the most important shit right now. They’re doing less important—you know what? Don’t try that again.”
You scoffed. “I didn’t try anything.”
“You think you’re real smart and you may be, but that’s not gonna get you any points with me.”
“Okay…what will get me points with you?”
“Behave. Do what I tell you to do. Stop with the questions.”
“Can I ask one more?”
“That was one more.”
“Please?”
He sighed. “Fine, ask, but I might not answer.”
“What should I call you?”
“Mr. Freezy.”
“I don’t want to call you that.”
“That’s what everyone calls me.”
“I don’t want to be ‘everyone’.”
“What do you want to be?”
You contemplated, then shrugged. “How about a friend?”
He snorted. “You wanna be my friend?”
“Why not?”
“You can call me Mr. Freezy,” he said again. “We’re not friends. I work for your father and that’s all this is. Call this strike one on your part. I hope your second attempt at getting me wrapped around your finger is going to be more creative.”
You did have quite a knack for that, it was why your father always had to switch out his “associates”. You were extremely amused by him thinking he was in some way immune. You had all sorts of charms and knew which ones to use to get every single man you’d ever encountered “wrapped around your finger”. He certainly wasn’t special.
“That your boyfriend?”
You glanced at the man behind the wheel before peering out the window. Your group of friends was already cracking up over your new means of transportation. Anne, whom you’d met on your first day in ballet class, was your best friend. Morgan, who was the newest addition, a transfer at the start of the semester but a seamless fit. Charlie, who would smack you if you called her Charlotte, was in your English class your first year and always seemed to want to drink. And yes, your boyfriend in question, Adrian.
“How do you know my boyfriend?”
“Your father has files on everyone you know. You had to know that.”
You huffed. “I didn’t know he made it a habit to show people… But yeah, that’s him.”
“Looks different.”
“Yeah, he’s changed a lot ever since my father started paying him.”
His eyebrows pulled together. “Paying him?”
“To be a perfectly respectable boyfriend. He can’t get into trouble, including when he’s not with me. He also can’t give me alcohol or drugs, can’t do anything at all, ever. Not that it’s hard for him, he stopped liking me a long time ago, but doesn’t want to lose the money.”
He stopped the truck a few feet past your friends, turning to you. “Why are you with him, then?”
You pulled your bag off the floor. “Thank you for driving me, Mr. Freezy.”
He arched an eyebrow at you. “You’re not going to answer me?”
“We can trade answers.”
“You think you can bargain with me?”
You shrugged. “If you want to know.”
“I don’t, I was just making conversation.”
“Okay, well, I’ll see you at 4.”
“Be punctual,” he directed. “Not a minute late, or I’m not taking you shopping.”
You didn’t stop pushing for his name, not until the day he said to you ‘call me Mr. Freezy or call me nothing’. You stopped speaking to him altogether and a mere four days later, he growled his name to you as you were getting out of the truck for school. Maybe then, it was Robert’s fault that this all happened.
He came back with a thin chain in his hand. You were only confused until you saw the clamps. He sat down next to you and dropped the chain on the bed, but you kept your gaze on his.
Your breath caught when you felt the smooth tip against your nipple. He glanced up at your face, checking to see if you were okay enough to continue. Apparently, you were since he let it close. It didn’t hurt. Or maybe it did, but you kind of liked that it was him doing it.
He closed the second one and then his fingertips trailed between your breasts down to the loop where the two chains connected, you felt it pull slightly as he continued to descend, and that was how you realized there was a third chain.
Wait… Oh. He pressed one of your thighs down firmly, a reminder. You can’t close your legs. You held your breath, you thought it would hurt less. As soon as the clamp took hold of your overly sensitive skin, you gasped.
“You’re okay.” He let his hand trail up, along your slit until he set his hand over your stomach. He kept you pressed down, watching your face, waiting for any protest.
This did hurt. You didn’t want to tell him that, though. He never seemed to care about anything if it didn’t match up with exactly what he wanted. Admittedly, you saw that tiny soft spot he had for you. You just didn’t want to test it, you wanted to delude yourself into believing that he would put you before himself. You hoped you’d never have to find out for sure.
You squirmed around on the bed.
“Don’t move.”
“It hurts.”
He hummed. “Yeah, that’s the point. Or do you not remember how we got here?”
Well, that certainly depended. He probably wasn’t referring to the first time you kissed him. He had been teaching you to drive. A few random mornings, he wouldn’t force you to go to school. He would drive you out far into the middle of nowhere, far enough that you should have been scared but you weren’t.
Since he knew that if you went home with as little as a bruise that your father would kill him, he always sat behind you in the driver’s seat. His legs were spread wide, you were nearly on the edge of the seat but sometimes you did manage to scoot back a little. He would move the gear shift for you, adjust your hands on the wheel, and tap your knee when he thought you were going too fast.
The morning, you could tell he was tense. See, you had noticed a pattern. Whenever you didn’t wear a bra, he didn’t force you to go to school. He took you out to learn to drive—it was getting old, and he promised he would bring you a real car to practice on eventually.
That morning, when the truck stopped, you asked a question that had been on your mind since that first day. “Do you kill people for my father?”
“You don’t ask people that.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve been working for your father for how long?”
“I think…nine years.”
“So, you can assume I’m good at my job. You think that includes telling my business to every spoiled princess whose father I’m employed by? Theoretically, if I did and I told you that, I might have to kill you then to keep that level of quality work. Correct?”
“I guess so.”
“So, tell me that you know that was a stupid question that you’re not going to ask me or anyone else ever again.”
“Okay…it was a stupid question.”
“And?”
“I won’t ask you or anyone else.”
“Jesus, you wanna end up dismembered in some guy’s trunk? Why does it matter anyway?”
You shrugged. “I was just curious.”
“Curiosity…” he prompted. “Finish it.”
You rolled your eyes. “Killed the cat.”
“Good girl.”
You wouldn’t mind him calling you that under drastically different circumstances. You hopped up onto his thigh and he immediately went rigid.
“What are you doing?”
“You didn’t ask me how my night was.”
And he always asked. Because you always asked. You would ask how his night went, then his day prior to picking you up from school. He never answered with more than one word and always turned the questions on you to distract you from your interest in his life.
He sighed. “Okay, how was your night, princess? Did daddy buy you another horse or something?”
“I went to bed early.”
He snorted. “Right. Because you’re such a good girl.”
“Well, I touched myself and thought of you.” This was a lie. Mostly. You did touch yourself and you did think of him a couple of times, accidentally, but really, Morgan was the one who wanted to come over to watch porn. “Am I still a good girl?”
“Seriously, what are you doing?”
You shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Doesn’t seem like nothing. Look, I need to take you to school. I have things to do.”
“Like what?”
“What did I tell you about asking those kinds of questions?” he demanded.
Instead of saying anything, you leaned in and kissed him. It was literally only a brush of your lips over his before he flipped out. He grabbed your waist and move you aside before he bolted.
Okay. Not the reaction you were expecting. You waited a while before making your way out to him. He was lingering at the back of the truck, smoking a cigarette.
“My dad said you didn’t smoke.” That was one of your first complaints when he told you Mr. Freezy would drive you. You hated smelling like smoke. But your father promised, this man didn’t smoke. Yet…
“He doesn’t know everything about me.”
You simply pressed your back against the truck, staring at the floor while you thought of something to say. Okay, maybe this wasn’t the best idea. Yes, he was married but he didn’t like her at all.
“What the fuck was that?”
You shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?! Look at me when I’m talking to you.” He only continued once you had done so. “That can never happen again. Do you understand me? Ever. You’re not allowed to touch me, okay? And you’re going back to calling me Mr. Freezy—”
“I want to go to school. Now.” You stormed around the front of the truck and got into your seat.
He finished his cigarette before he made his way back. You were turned away from him, arms and legs crossed. It was clear that you didn’t want to speak with him, and he was thankful for it. When he finally pulled up to the school, you left the car silently without a single word to him.
He arched an eyebrow, prompting an answer.
“Well, do you think you’re at all responsible for this situation?”
He scoffed, an exhausted sound. “All I want to do is take care of you, you know? Make sure you’re okay. Make sure you’re behaving and not putting yourself in any unnecessary danger.”
“Seriously? That’s what this is about?”
“What else would it be about?”
You didn’t answer that because you felt like your tongue was just burning to make him angry.
“You don’t wanna talk?”
“I never said that. I just don’t know how to answer your stupid question.”
“My stupid question. Because you’re so smart. The smartest spoiled brat I’ve ever met, honestly.”
You gave him a flat look.
“Fine, if you have nothing to say, I can think of a better use for your mouth.” He stood up again and stopped at the side of the bed, moving his pants out of the way.
If he thought you were going to argue, he was stupid. Which you’d long ago discovered that he wasn’t. He hadn’t been working for your dad for this long for nothing.
“Open up, sweetheart.”
You adjusted yourself, just slightly onto your side, but you didn’t close your legs. He looked almost disappointed that you hadn’t broken one of his rules. That didn’t surprise you. He was still clearly furious with you.
You opened your mouth for him, and he grabbed a handful of your hair before he slowly slid his length down your throat. You stared up at him, enjoying how weak his expression got as he watched himself push in and pull out of your mouth. He only stopped when he heard you gag, then he was pulling out, enjoying how soft your tongue felt against him.
This was only the second time you had done this. With him. Ever. You liked it the first time but not being able to touch him felt so impersonal. You wondered if that was also part of your…punishment, as he had referred to it when he pulled you out of his trucking and dragged you inside his house, all while you were screaming at him at the top of your lungs.
Either he had no neighbors, or they were just like him. No one came out. No one wanted to make sure that whoever was causing the scene was okay. You wondered if they were used to this. Did he regularly bring screaming women back to his home? You had never asked what he did when his wife had failed to satisfy him. Part of you worried what the answer would be.
You could admit, maybe you were more to blame than him. But maybe it was your dad. He was the one that employed him, he was the one that let him drive you to school, and he was the one that called him when you were kidnapped. That was when things had changed.
After the failed kiss, you were closed off completely. Two weeks, you didn’t wear a single revealing skirt or tiny top. You knew he found you physically attractive, but you no longer believed he had a right to see you that way. You no longer wanted to gift him with your beauty if he was going to pretend that he didn’t want you to kiss him. He did. You knew he did. He wanted a lot more than just a kiss. And it was weak of him to pretend otherwise.
When you were taken it was because you had gone out to dinner with Charlie. Her dad worked with your dad sometimes, so their family was one of the few that your father trusted with you. You liked being at Charlie’s more because her father let her do things on her own. Correction—had let her. Before everything.
Honestly, it wasn’t some traumatizing experience. They didn’t lay a hand on you. Well, minus one mishap, but not more than that. They drugged Charlie’s drink because hadn’t expected that someone would be with her because she usually had dinner alone on Thursday nights. When you were pulling her out to the car, just about to call her dad for help, that was when you were ambushed.
It wasn’t a normal situation, you were lucky. You knew that. But Robert refused to acknowledge it. As far as he was concerned, it was a risky situation. It didn’t matter what happened or didn’t, what mattered was that you had been taken at all.
He saw your attention drifting from him and wondered what you were thinking about. Probably that night. That was what he spent most of his time thinking about. You were a naive fucking child sometimes. You weren’t scared about what had happened, and you weren’t scared about the possibility of it happening again.
When he got a call at two in the morning, he had known it was going to be your father, but he had not anticipated any of what happened next. His wife next to him was complaining about being woken up, so he took the call downstairs. Your father, in an alarmingly calm tone, informed him that you had been kidnapped. And fuck, he wasn’t surprised. You walked around with that god damn attitude acting like you were better than everyone. He was only surprised that it had never happened before.
But then his stomach had started twisting. He knew the kind of men in his line of work, any one of them would kill, and more than likely have, just to get their hands on a soft, sweet little thing like you. And he knew what they would do to you when you got mouthy. It made him sick, imagining you bruised up like that. And hell, he knew exactly what they had more than likely already done to you. It was probably the first thought that crossed their mind as soon as they saw you. A woman as beautiful as you, he assumed it was what most men thought about when they looked at you.
He remembered what you had been wearing that morning and it made him mad. A skirt, for the first time in a long time. He had been imaging running his hands up and down your thighs all day, and he was furious to think someone else would get to. It also made him furious that you wouldn’t want it. He was livid thinking about you being touched after you said no.
He’d never given this business much thought before. He knew what he was. A creep. A psycho. The worst of the worst. But he’d never raped someone. Had he had the occasional sick thought? Of course, he wasn’t immune, but he would never violate someone like that. It was weak, in his opinion. The only thing men held over women and he wanted to be much more creative than that. He didn’t kill because he liked to, that was irrelevant. He killed because he was asked to, and he was good at it. End of story. Being good at rape wasn’t his brand.
That was why your father called him. He appeared strong and collected at first, but as the conversation went on, Robert could tell this man was desperate. He’d known Robert worked everywhere and never minded, never asked him to be a rat or a double agent. But he was asking now, and under any other circumstances, Robert would have said no. It was bad for business and all that.
But you didn’t deserve this. You weren’t part of this, and it was a mistake that anyone would try to make you part of it. He gave Robert the name of who did it, they’d already called and made their demands and hadn’t given the location yet. Robert knew the location; he’d been there several times for the drop-off and the occasional clean-up. Robert told him he would take care of it. When he said it, he had believed that he was going to get out of there as pure as you had gone in.
He had a long history with the family who took you, her especially. Marcella was beautiful, he assumed. She wasn’t his type, but maybe she was once. She kind of looked like his wife and since he couldn’t stand to look at her, Marcella didn’t get an unbiased opinion. Unless she was on a job with him or in his way, he didn’t think about her much.
She wanted to bargain, unsurprisingly. What threw him was that she wanted sex, but he didn’t mind. It was just sex, he’d fucked his wife, and hell, he hated her. Marcella wouldn’t be a problem if that meant getting you and your friend out safe—and under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t give a damn about your friend, but he knew you wouldn’t leave her behind.
Marcella knew something was different immediately. He never was one to be sent on a rescue mission. He was a skilled killer, nothing more. He tried to explain it away with money, but she kept talking about you. She kept trying to bait him. She called you a perfect doll, said she could tell that you were a virgin, other things that made him want to snap her neck.
When she brought you out, he started at your legs. You had a bruise on your knee, but he had noticed that when he was dropping you off earlier. Your shoes weren’t scuffed, the skirt you wore wasn’t wrinkled, meaning no struggle. Your tiny shirt was still tucked into the waistband and he couldn’t see your nipples, so your bra was still in place. Your arms and hands were clear, no broken nails, your hair looked fine, no bruises around your neck.
But he felt his hands balling into fists when he saw the red mark across your cheek. It didn’t look like you had been crying so he figured that was all you had to endure, but it was more than enough to make him see red.
Marcella made some pathetic remark about how good you were, how you hadn’t disobeyed a single order—that was good; later, he saw himself lecturing you, telling you what to do and what not to do if this ever happened again.
According to Marcella, he was free to take you. The other one, your friend, he had to earn her. She brought him closer to you, where you lay on one of the desks in the newly remodeled room. The location had once been abandoned, but everyone in his line of work knew how convenient the basement was in this building. Of course, these people bought it.
She said, “I want to watch you eat her pussy.”
The expression on your face was almost unreadable. You didn’t look scared originally, you had that same face when he had yelled at you after kissing him a while back. He knew what it was after a moment. Insecurity. He had truly convinced you that he didn’t want you like that.
You argued, said he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want. First, he did want you. He had been imagining how you would taste for a long time. Second, he did have to do whatever Marcella said. That you were stating otherwise was a testament to how much your father had shielded you.
“It doesn’t matter,” he claimed, and maybe that was the wrong choice of words. You were a virgin, not that he could ever forget, but sometimes, he did forget how big of a deal that was to some people.
He was angry again. The exact thing that he had wanted to avoid, you being touched by someone like him, was the only way he was going to get you and your friend out of here. But he was also selfish. He could have gotten out of this. If anyone ever asked why he didn’t, he would claim it was because he didn’t want to start problems with Marcella’s family.
The truth was that you were irresistible. He wanted to make you come, he wanted to devour you, show you what it was supposed to feel like. He wanted to be the first man who ever came close to you like this, and he wanted you to remember it, him, many years later. When you were off with some boyfriend, husband, whoever managed to sneak you away after gaining your father’s trust, he wanted you to still be thinking of him and missing how he made you feel.
“It’s okay, he insisted.
Marcella was amused by you, by how little you knew about how sick men were. Robert was sure there wasn’t a man on the planet that wouldn’t fuck you if they had the opportunity, he was not immune to it. Wanting you.
“It’s okay,” he repeated. He brought one hand to your shoulder, but you tensed. With his opposite hand, he removed his glasses and set them on the desk. “It’s okay.”
You reached out to touch his face with both hands. He felt your hands lingering on his jaw, fingertips pressing into the facial hair there.
“Okay?” he whispered. “Just lie back.”
You still looked unsure, but Robert leaned in and kissed you before you could say anything that he would end up regretting. You relaxed then, some of the tension he felt in your shoulder slowly ebbing away.
He pulled back, pressing another kiss to your forehead before pushing you down with his hands around both shoulders. He didn’t move his hands until you appeared comfortable. “You’re okay?”
You nodded.
“Okay. Just remain calm.” He had no idea what to say to you, what you needed to hear to be okay with this. He had no idea if he was being discreet about this, about the want he was feeling for you.
You pulled your skirt up just slightly and he caught your shaking hands. “Just relax.” He moved them off to the side before taking his hands and placing them near your knee. His palms slid up, catching the hem of your skirt until it gathered over your pelvis. You were wearing white lace panties that made him painfully hard.
He touched them against your hip bone. “I’m gonna take them off.”
You nodded, now staring up at the ceiling.
He pulled them down slowly, carefully getting them over both of your high-heeled shoes. He glanced up, sighing softly when he saw your bare pussy. He’d always known you hadn’t been touched, but he wasn’t naive enough to think you were completely innocent.
Marcella told him to get on his knees and he did. He carefully brought your legs over his shoulders, trailing kisses up your thigh to warn you where he was. He didn’t want you to be caught off guard for a second.
You felt his lips and the rough, shorts hairs press against your skin and you started a little. He kissed you over and over and you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second. Up and down your slit several times until you had wet his mouth and he was spreading your arousal all over your skin.
The smell of you was enough for him. If he died right then, he wouldn’t have minded. But that didn’t stop him from getting greedy the longer he was at your pussy, just kissing, teasing. He wanted to work you up, it was always so easy with virgins. His hands slid up your legs out to your hips where he grabbed you and jerked you down further.
To accommodate his size, your legs spread and your pussy opened up to him. You gasped softly, hands trying to find purchase on the desk, but there was nothing for you to hold onto. He took pity on you, that was all it was when he took your hands in his. It certainly wasn’t him attempting intimacy. He had long ago given up on faking that part of himself and thankfully, his wife had also stopped asking for it. He was fine being what he was. He simply felt bad for you, that was all.
He linked his fingers between yours and you squeezed his hands tight. His tongue dipped out, just small random licks up and down, up and down. He touched your clit barely and your hips jumped, your hands tightened more, nails digging in so hard he knew he would bleed, and you whimpered.
And that fucking whimper did something to him. It was the sweetest, smallest sound he’d ever heard. Maybe it was that you were just so delicate in his indelicate world. Maybe that was why he was so addicted to you. He liked what you were, how unafraid and optimistic, how sweet and naïve, and he felt this primal need to protect you from everything that could change you.
He let his tongue move down until he could slide it into your entrance. You gasped and instinctively pulled your joined hands up. He pulled them back down and pinned your arms flat against the desk. You tasted better than he thought you would, he couldn’t stop pressing his tongue into you. He knew it was a tease, he knew he should just make you come, get it over with, but he couldn’t do it.
He flicked his tongue up hard, no more teasing. As he touched your clit, your hips jolted and your head rolled back. You tried to say his name, but no real words were leaving your mouth.
His tongue became quick. He always knew when he touched your clit because you would whine loudly. You were a woman who had never been pleased and he loved that he was going to be the first to satisfy this gorgeous pussy. Those gasps and screams and whimpers kept him going, blocked out all the rest of the world.
He’d forgotten Marcella. He’d forgotten that he was eating the pussy of his boss’ daughter and that if that boss ever found out he was going to be murdered horribly. He’d forgotten that he was supposed to be getting you home. All he cared about was you coming in his mouth.
You were soaked, dripping down his chin. He didn’t mind, the last reminder he was going to have of your pussy was if you managed to get on his shirt. He began gently sucking at your lips, letting his tongue dip out to soothe you when you were shaking and crying out, and pulling so hard against his arms. You weren’t stronger than him and you would have bruises if you didn’t stop, but he didn’t care about that either.
He didn’t care about anything but getting you off. He knew it wasn’t going to take long to get you there once he wrapped his lips around your clit, so he was now also guilty of relishing in this. He was guilty of dragging this out longer than necessary. He could make a virgin fall apart in a couple of minutes, but he wanted to devour you, to destroy any chance you had at being pleased by some idiot your age.
You had somehow managed to wrestle one of your hands away from his. You brought it to the back of his head, fingers winding in his hair to yank him in further. That was something he would never forget. He began kissing you again, teasing you because he wasn’t like everyone else. You didn’t just get to order him around. “You need me to make you come?” he asked, lips brushing against you as he spoke.
“Yes,” you blurted out.
“Want it so bad, don’t you?”
You gasped your answer. Yes.
As soon as he sucked your clit into his mouth, you shrieked loud enough that Marcella laughed. He wanted to turn around and strangle the hell out of her, but he wouldn’t pull away from you if his life depended on it. He let your other hand go to grab your hips.
You were pulling his hair with both hands. He knew you’d always liked his hair.
Once your hips started to roll, your cunt grinding against his face, he knew this was the end. He knew that your pussy was going to be the death of him. He pressed his hand down on the center of your stomach, pinning you down onto the desk. He rubbed his face against your center, pulling at your skin with his lips the entire time until you were sobbing out pleas. Finally, he sucked your clit back between his lips.
A noise caught in your throat as you were coming, hands tightening in his hair, back arching painfully. Almost immediately, your cunt was clenching, desperate to be filled, as he continued focusing on your sensitive button.
Your hands moved away from his head, reaching up for anything. You were looking for a way to get away from him, overstimulated, shaking, throbbing, needing.
“Robert,” Marcella scolded teasingly. “Give her a break, she can barely handle it.”
He knew she was right. He shouldn’t overwhelm you, not after the first time. He knew he should get on his feet and get your ass back home. He gave you just a few more licks and kisses, and then he was standing.
He felt that same need he had before. To protect you. He sat you up and hugged you to his chest, rubbing his hand along your spine as you worked to catch your breath. “Get the other girl.”
“Why so fast?” Marcella wondered.
Right, this was why he never negotiated.
“I think I changed my mind,” Marcella claimed. “I think I want to watch you fuck her before I give you the other one.”
He turned down to look at you. “You still okay?”
You nodded, but he noticed that you finally looked scared. You didn’t want to have sex with him, and he didn’t blame you at all. It wasn’t going to happen.
He pressed a brief kiss to the top of your head and then pulled you into his chest. He could tell you were surprised at first, but you eventually relaxed against him.
It was silent for several seconds before he yanked his gun out of his jacket pocket and shot Marcella. You startled again, trying to push away from him to see what was happening. He only held you tighter, there was no reason that you needed to see that.
When he pulled you off the desk, he wouldn’t let you turn around. He simply moved you to the exit, carrying you because your legs weren’t working either from shock or having just been eaten out, he wasn’t sure.
It was freezing and dark and he didn’t want to leave you alone, but he was not going to let you go back inside. He shoved you in his truck and pulled out the gun from his waistband. Your blank stare communicated that you had never used a gun—seriously? He opted for a knife instead before disappearing back inside.
Once he had you both in the truck, he drove several blocks over and pulled over suddenly. He could still taste you and it was driving him insane. He thought a cigarette might change that.
You apologized to him when you’d finally gotten too impatient and joined him outside. He wanted to laugh. What the hell were you sorry for? The answer was as naïve as he would have expected. You were sorry because of what he had to do, you had convinced yourself that he hadn’t wanted it, that he hadn’t enjoyed every second of it.
You called him out. You pointed out the gun, why hadn’t he killed her before he ate you out? He didn’t answer, which was probably what emboldened you so much. You didn’t let him push you away that night. Instead, you took your shirt off, then your bra, and you tossed them both back into his ice cream truck.
He tossed his cigarette aside and stepped out in front of you, tapping you against the side of his truck with his hands pressed to it inches away on either side of your body. He thought he could make you back down, scare you into pulling away from him. All he saw was determination on your face.
He took your waist in both hands and you gasped. He yanked you forward and ducked down, his mouth closing around one of your nipples. You wrapped around him automatically. Your arms around his neck, hands in his hair again, and you jumped up to hook your legs at his hips.
He pressed you into the side of the truck harder, massaging the bulge in his pants against your bare pussy. He bit down on your breast hard, sucked your nipple indelicately, and then licked over it to soothe any pain he caused. He alternated between your breasts without pattern, leaving your skin wet and sensitive, made worse by the biting cold of the outside.
You were rolling your hips, pressing yourself against his cock, and he knew he wouldn’t last long. Not after wanting this for so long, not after tasting your pussy. He pulled you down abruptly, turning his body slightly but keeping a tight hold on you.
“We can’t do this here. I gotta get daddy’s princess home. He is worried sick, I’m sure.”
“You’re hard,” you pointed out. “What would my daddy think?”
He abruptly grabbed a handful of your hair, yanking your head back as he wrapped a hand around your throat. “I’m your daddy now, baby. You don’t have to worry about what anyone else will think. Understand?”
Your eyes were brighter than he’d ever seen them. He’d always wondered because the innocent act didn’t quite suit you. So, he always wondered what type of shit you were into. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, daddy.”
“You understand you’re mine now?”
You nodded.
“No more letting your friends touch you,” he cut you off before you could ask how he knew about that, “no more of that pathetic boyfriend, no more touching your pussy without my permission. And you’re gonna stop being such a brat.”
“Or what?”
“Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t try me.” And all you did was smirk. “You’re gonna get me killed, you know that?” Again, before you could talk, he interrupted. This time it was with his mouth on yours.
He finished thinking about how your breasts had felt under his hands and mouth, the sounds you made. He pulled out slowly, giving you the chance to swallow because that was what he always demanded. Every drop of his cum was meant for you, not the bed or the sheets.
His hand curled under your jaw and you looked up at him.
“Will you take it off?”
“The clamp?”
“It hurts.”
“The one on your pussy?”
“Yes.”
He reached down, finger pressing to your aching core. “Right there?”
You were squirming again. “Please?”
He pressed down firmly, swiping over your clit several times. “Please take it off?” he taunted, then shook his head. “No.”
You narrowed your eyes.
That was what it was all about. You were a brat. You wanted to be in control because you’d been in control of everyone your whole life, but he wasn’t going to let you be. This, whatever was currently happening, only started in the first place because you were acting up.
He’d given you a phone so he could stay in contact with you without your father knowing. His one rule was that you never left the house without it, that you never went anywhere without it because if he needed to, if you were ever in danger again, he would be able to find you. At the time, you’d said yes.
For two months, everything went smoothly. Or so he thought. He spoiled the hell out of you, dipped into that savings account he had been adding to since long before he was working for your father. He bought you lingerie that he wanted to see you in. He bought you jewelry even though you could more than afford it yourself. His plan was to slowly get you to stop relying on your father so much. He wanted you to rely on him.
It had seemed that it was working all those times that you would send him pictures and he would call you those moments that he could get himself away from his wife. You certainly didn’t seem to have a problem when he was telling you how to get yourself off over the phone. But you, as mentioned, were a brat. You didn’t like how cautious he was being with you. As if your father wouldn’t put a hit out on him the second that he as much as suspected that there was something going on. That was when you broke the phone rule.
It’d been after this huge fight that you’d started on the way to school. You ended it by telling him that he didn’t need to pick you up because you were going to Charlie’s. As in the person you had been kidnapped with. Nope, not happening, which he told you.
Long story short, it did happen. And to make matters worse, you ditched your phone. You’d somehow managed to stash it in his truck before you left in the morning. When you texted him on your original phone, he knew something was wrong immediately. It only took him three hours to decide he was going to track your phone and damn, no words could ever adequately describe how mad he had been.
That led to this morning. He was driving you to school, but never had any intention of taking you there. He was fed up with the attitude, the recklessness, the sheer stupidity. Your father was no longer cutting it, he deiced. He was getting old and couldn’t take care of you, and that meant that Robert was going to have to.
You had been silent most of the drive but after a little poking on his side, you announced that you wanted to be done with the relationship. Did you honestly think that he was going to let you just walk away? After he’d told you that you were his? You agreed, it wasn’t his fault that you were so god damn innocent that you didn’t understand the extent of the promise you made.
“I have something that I need to check on,” he announced.
“Don’t leave me here like this.”
“Baby, the sooner you understand that you don’t tell me what to do, the easier this will be for you.”
“Don’t leave me here!” you repeated. “You’re insane!”
He grabbed the center ring on the chain and yanked on it on his way out. You gasped, body going taut from the pain. Smirking, he shut the door behind him.
“Ass!”
When he came back, you were furious. The clamp on your clit was aching terribly and your nipples were close behind that on the pain scale. Your legs and arms were practically numb. You’d long ago just given up and rested on your back, your ass stinging, knuckles digging hard into the small of your back.
He was hard again, you couldn’t miss the bulge in his pants. He started to undress, simply watching you.
And all you wanted to do was make one thing very clear. “I’m still not sorry.”
He smirked, making his way closer to you. He removed his glasses and set them on his wife’s bedside table. “You’re beautiful, baby.”
“What did you have to check on?”
“Business. Don’t talk about business in the bedroom, not when I’m about to fuck you.”
You ignored him. “Business…was my dad calling?”
“No.”
“Then what business?”
He climbed up onto the bed toward you. His hand was around his cock, ready to push into you. “Why do you care?”
“I just want to know.”
He said nothing, and you felt his heavy length rest against your cunt. Any sensation there was too much, but that didn’t seem to deter him at all. He ran the head of his cock along your slit, never failing to move the clamp.
Each time, it pinched your skin painfully. Each time, your body spasmed from the pain. He pushed in with the tip and you gasped, but all he did was keep going until his pelvis was flat against yours. One hand rested on your torso, between your ribs, hard enough to hold you down.
It hurt, but maybe it didn’t. Maybe that was the clamp. You were wet, so wet. He just slid right in, but you still felt stretched. It was the first time you’d taken anything more than a couple of fingers. It didn’t hurt, or maybe it kinda did. You might have been numb, at least a little. You wanted him this close. How could getting what you wanted hurt? So, maybe it didn’t.
“Oh, fuck,” he muttered to himself as he pulled out. He saw his cock covered in your blood and it just did something to him. He was your first, and he intended to be your last. He wanted to make you so dependent on his cock that you wouldn’t be able to go days without begging him for it.
You had been playing with the idea ever since he brought you here. To his house. His empty house. Now, you felt overwhelmed with the idea that you didn’t know everything. He was inside you, and that had to count for something. “Did you kill your wife?”
His eyes flickered to your face and his hand slid upward, between your breasts until he could grab your neck. “What if I did?”
You knew immediately that if he hadn’t, he would. He could. There was nothing emotional that was stopping him. There was nothing like morality that would make him choose another path. “Tell me. If you fucking did it, be man enough to tell me.”
“The answer is yes. Did it last night because I decided I wasn’t going to go another 24 hours without your pussy.” He pushed back in hard, and your scream caught in your throat. “Did it right on this bed. Strangled her.”
“Did you fuck her, too?”
“Jealous, baby?”
“Not at all.”
He hummed, then looked back down. He leaned over you, rested all his weight on one arm as his hips picked up pace and he squeezed your neck a little.
“Was that the business?” you choked out between gasps and strangled moans. “Whatever you had to check on?”
“No.”
“Well, what was it?”
“Stop talking.”
“You just told me you killed your wife. Is there anything worse than that?”
“Yeah, what if I paid someone to kill your father?”
All you could do was stare up at him. He wasn’t serious, but it wasn’t like he didn’t have a motive. Your dad had been the reason that everything between the two of you was always so complicated. “That’s not funny.”
He continued fucking you, harder now. It was starting to feel different, maybe better. You were still trying to differentiate between all the sensations, and it seemed impossible. You felt like everything inside you was getting tight, each time his cock slammed back into you, tighter.
He was a murderer. You shouldn’t enjoy fucking a murderer. You shouldn’t be able to look at his face and find him beautiful, find him anything less than terrifying. You shouldn’t be so weak for the cock of a man who just killed his wife and possibly killed your father—Robert never lied to you. Yet, there you were.
“Oh, daddy—fuck, daddy!” You dug your head back into the mattress, angling your lower body up to meet his thrusts. There was so much tension in your body, you just needed it gone. You’d never felt anything like this. It wasn’t just an orgasm.
He closed his hand tighter around your neck, the small choking noises were drowned out by his grunting and the wet sounds of your pussy gripping his cock tight—fuck, you were so tight. He hadn’t had a virgin pussy since he was 19, but he remembered it like it was yesterday. He remembered them all, and none compared to you.
When you were coming, screaming as well as you could, body shaking, your pussy gripped him harder.
You had never come like this, wrapped around someone and the newness of it all left you dizzy. Not long after, he finished inside you and as soon as you were full of his cum, which you could feel, hot, heavy, wetter, you consciously recognized the immediate addiction to him.
He stayed over you, just staring. His hand moved up and he touched your face, your parted lips, your glowing cheeks. You felt hot under his fingertips, certain parts of your skin damp. He tucked some hair behind your ear and then sat up.
He pulled out of you silently. You saw his cock covered in cum and blood, white and red, and your face burned. Right, you’d nearly forgotten it was your first time. “What are you doing?”
He moved off the bed and to the closet without answering you. When he returned, it was with diamonds. This chained choker with a single dangling diamond heart. He put it on you and then collapsed onto the bed beside you. With no skill at all, he wrestled with the ropes and by miracle, he had you free.
Once your hands were in use, you quickly pulled the clamps off you, gasping at the pain. Your skin there throbbed, the numbness replaced with pins and needles.
He didn’t give you any time to pout over it, he grabbed you and pulled you onto his chest.
You touched the choker, smiling. You ignored your turning stomach because you liked the jewelry. You ignored the fast pounding in your chest because you liked your skin pressed to his, you liked that he was holding you. You ignored your racing mind and your suspicions that he had been completely honest about what he had done to his wife and your father.
“Thank you, daddy.”
chris tags:
@onetwo3000 @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @kleohoneyao3 @cevans-fics @gotnofucks @sweet-pieces-of-nothing @dbnightingale24 @first-jumper-tris46
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Bubble Gum: Spoiled Rotten
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Sugar Daddy AU)
Warnings: jealous!bucky, brat!reader, smut, explicit language, age difference, cockwarming, brat taming, edging, overstimulation, unprotected sex.
Summary: Spoiled brats get punished, and James knows just the right way to teach you a lesson.
Written for @world-of-aus au writing challenge.
If looks could kill, James’ steely eyes would have burned a hole through your thick skull already. He draws a deep, steading breath to regain his composure and keep under control his blood pressure that skyrockets everytime you get on his nerves.
You’ve been on your worst behavior all day.
It’s clear you do things for the sake of riling him up, he can see it written all over your mischievous face and the devious smirk you shoot his way, and you do it because the punishing way he fucks the brat out of you is usually the reward you like best.
It’s the reason you’re humoring this hunky sales assistant who’s probably ten years younger than him, a good six inches taller and built like a fucking brickhouse, as he tries to flirt with you. James frowns observing the strain of his biceps against his button down shirt when he lifts your very heavy shopping bag.
No one needs that much muscle mass unless they’re Steve Rogers or Sam Wilson. Very tasteless, in his honest opinion. The guy could’ve at least gone for a size larger.
Your laugh snaps him out of his murderous trance.
“Thank you, Tommy, I’ll see you soon.” you chirp, placing your hand on one of his outrageously bulging biceps.
“Always a pleasure, miss.” is his flirtatious response as he shoots you a beaming smile and a wink, completely ignoring James’ presence at your side. The audacity.
“Are you done yet?” he grunts, glaring at Tommy’s very broad retreating back.
You hum, grab his hand and lace your fingers with his, guiding him outside of the store and into the sidewalk. “I got everything I needed.”
“Yeah, I bet. Timmy seemed real dedicated to meeting your every need.”
It comes out whinier than he intended, and the pout on his lips gives out kicked puppy vibes instead of seething, menacing man.
You let a sound between a coo and a snort and clutch his arm, peppering kisses on his shoulder. “What, you jealous or something?” A teasing smirk spreads on your glossy lips, “I didn’t take your for the possessive kind, Mr. Barnes.”
“Just get in the damn car.” he mumbles and opens the door for you, slapping your ass as you get inside.
Tonight he’ll have to teach you a lesson you won’t forget.
-
You huff for the tenth time in a minute, brows furrowed as you glare at James, who’s been ignoring you since you’ve gotten inside his penthouse. He keeps typing on his computer, ignoring your pretty lace set and your numerous attempts to get his attention.
You’re puzzled by his behavior. You’ve been getting on his every last nerve since this morning, sending him provocative pictures during his meeting and acting like a brat, and he hasn’t snapped yet like he usually would, spanking your ass red and fucking you until you’re sobbing.
“James, stop working.” you whine like the little spoiled child you are, “Hello? I’m here.”
He hums, not even lifting his eyes from the spreadsheet in front of him. “I’m doing what I’d have done today had you not sent me those pictures, bubbles. You know how distracting you can be?”
“I know.” you quip, hips swaying as you make your way to where he’s hunched, and sit on his desk. “That’s why I did it. Now leave this and come to bed with me.”
A wicked glint crosses his face and is gone in an instant.
“We don’t need the bed.” he tells you, his warm hand caressing your thigh and travelling higher and higher until it meets your panties, “Do we?”
You shake your head, spreading your legs open as he moves his chair between them. Slowly he brings his face down to your inner thighs until his hot breath fans over your cunt and his beard grazes your skin. You let out a moan when he leaves open mouthed kisses along the thin ridges of your stretch marks, tracing up until he meets the sheer lace of your panties. His eyes, pretty sapphire eyes, bore into yours as he trails up to your mound and lower belly, his hands keading the flesh of your legs and ass. Hooking his fingers around your underwear, he slides the lace down to your ankles, and you toss them away with an impatient growl.
Tingles spread like wildfire with every soft touch of his lips until your walls are throbbing and you’re burning up with desire.
“So wet bubbles, all for me?” James chuckles, his long fingers teasing your clit, never enough to relieve you of the coil in your core, just the right amount to make you feel like you’re losing your mind.
You grind your hips on the table, chasing his fingers and some relief while his name pours out of your mouth like a prayer as you beg him for more.
The wicked glint is back again before he delves in your dripping folds, and a satisfied sigh escapes your lips. James latches onto your swollen clit while his tongue swirls around your cunt and his prosthetic fingers pump in and out of you. The sounds of him sucking hard on you and slurping your juices and the squelch of your wet pussy fill his office.
You feel the coil in your belly get tighter with each swipe of his tongue, your walls convulsing around his fingers.
“Daddy, please, I’m close.” you whine, getting impatient with the way he seems to be taking his sweet time torturing you.
Just as you’re about to cum, he pushes himself away from you, and you feel the hot waves of pleasure retreating back, leaving disappointment behind.
“What the hell James?”
“Such a brat, bubbles. You really don’t deserve to cum.”
You rush to apologize, promising you’ll do better, and James nods, seemingly satisfied with your pleads, digging in your aching cunt again. He licks a wide strip of your folds and pokes your entrance with his tongue, your juices covering the bottom half of his face.
He fucks you with his mouth, giving it all he’s got until you’re writhing on that desk, your toes curled and eyes rolled to the back of your head. The heat in your pussy becomes unbearable, and your clit is so sensitive and overstimulated that his hot breath fanning over it makes you arch your back in pleasure and pain.
Once again, he stops just in time before your release. And again, he resumes back to eating you out like a man on a mission, before stopping, repeating the process all over again, edging you multiple times until tears and mascara are streaming down your face and you’re cursing him out and sobbing about how much you need him.
“What do you need, babygirl? You need daddy to fuck your tight pussy?”
“Yes, please daddy, please fuck me, make me cum all over your cock.” you mewl, hand reaching for your cunt before he slaps it away and tuts you.
“Do you deserve to be fucked?” he asks, palming himself through his pants, “Do you think you deserve to cum after what you did today?”
You squirm, trying to soothe the throbbing ache in your pussy, but James is unrelenting and keeps you still.
“Sending me those photos during a meeting, you know I can’t concentrate when I see you like that, what were you thinking, you dumb little baby? Flirting with that Timmy guy while we were out and ignoring me all afternoon?”
“I’m sorry daddy, it was stupid of me, but I won’t do it again.” you promise, “But please I can’t take this anymore.”
He almost caves in, his stupid heart clenching whenever he hears your soft cries, but he enjoys the way you beg a little too much to give in so easily. Not tonight. Tonight he’ll make you suffer before he gives you what you want, just like you’ve done all day.
“It’s my fault that you’re spoiled rotten, bubbles.” he continues, grabbing your thighs and pulling you down until you’re straddling his lap. “Always giving you what you want, never telling you no.” He maneuvers you so that you’re hovering over his hard cock “I need to set you straight. Need to discipline you.”
You yelp when he impales you on his length, the stretch welcome and filling after so long. When you wiggle above him, expecting him to fuck you hard like he usually would, his flesh hand gives your face a delicate slap before he grabs your cheeks and squishes your mouth.
“Bad girls don’t get to have fun on daddy’s cock, babygirl.”
The outraged look on your face is comical. “What?”
“You heard that. Now you’re gonna sit still on daddy’s cock until I’m done with work. And then I’ll fuck you, if I feel like it.”
He gives you one last evil grin before yanking you flush against his chest and ignoring your cries and pleads as he holds you still and resumes back to working.
You try to wriggle your body, but everytime his hard cock hits a different spot inside you, you regret it. You can feel every vein and every ridge on his thick cock, your walls gripping it tightly, your arousal dripping down its length, and yet all you can do is cry your frustration out on James' shoulder.
The stretch, the heat, the way his skin brushes and bumps accidentally over your sensitive clit, it’s too much and not enough.
“Daddy?” you purr after what feels like an eternity.
He hums in response, and you turn to face him, hoping your pleading eyes will convince him.
“Please? My knees are hurting and I need you so bad, daddy.”
“Did you learn your lesson? Will you be a good girl for me?”
“The best.” You beam at him.
He sighs, knowing damn well you won’t be, but unfortunately for him, James can never resist you for too long.
In an instant you find yourself bent over the desk, the wood digging painfully in the soft flesh of your belly, your toes hovering over the ground.
“Beg for me, bubbles.” He growls in your ear, his prosthetic hand caressing your back, “I want to hear you beg me to fuck your pretty pussy until your legs give out.”
His words shoot straight to your cunt. “Please, please, please fuck me daddy, I need you to fuck my pussy.”
You let out a strangled moan when James slants himself inside you, your position allowing his cock to reach deep into your core, until his tip hits against your cervix.
He ruts against you, his cock slamming in and out of you, your walls gripping him like a vice as he pounds into you like a wild beast. He grabs a fistful of your hair, and you arch your back to meet his movements. You both know you’re not going to last long.
“I can feel you, so tight on me. You like it when daddy fucks you like a whore, don’t you?”
“Yes, yes, oh my God, harder.” you beg, “Please, just like that.”
You feel your orgasm near, your pussy spasming around his cock and bursts of electricity travelling from your center to every nerve ending of your body. It’s bliss, it’s a hot surge of energy encompassing you whole until you’re moaning and drooling like a mindless fuckdoll.
“Tell me you’ll be my good girl.”
“I’ll be good for you daddy, I promise.”
His cock swells inside you, and the fullness of his hot spurt spilling inside you is enough to tip you over the edge, your orgasm wrecking through your body as you spasm and shake, your toes curling, eyes rolling to the back of your head, his strong arms holding you close to him, so close you feel the errantic beat of his heart.
Your mind is swimming in a daze, and you’re spent, and satisfied, in pure bliss as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck and whispers soft praises into your ears. You hiss when he pulls out of you, and he watches enthralled his cum drip out of your cunt and down your thighs.
When you feel his tongue trace its way upwards, licking you clean, you let out a surprised yelp. He chuckles, bringing his face close to your pussy.
You want nothing more than cuddle with him and fall asleep in his arms, but James has different plans for you.
“What, you thought it was over? I never said I was done punishing you, bubbles.”
-
Part of sugar, spice and everything nice. Can be read separately or as part of the series. Message me in you want to be added to the taglist.
Leave some feedback if you liked it please💗
#bucky x reader#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x reader#marvel fanfiction#bucky barnes smut#sugar daddy bucky barnes#bucky x you#bucky barnes x you
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