#I took a bartender job. making bartender money. and I showed up to work Baby's First Job for minimum wage.

[sonsband]

hmmmmnngg hate this job, and not just because the played MX at peak volume

[milkywaydrabbles]

19/21 and 26 with........Haitani's!?!?!??! 🫣🫣🫣

I just can't stop thinking of them 😩😩

A/N: It was a little hard for me to start this one ngl, I was unsure how I'd be able to write the brothers sharing like THIS but I guess it's okay. I hope you enjoy it!! I brought the exhibitionsim out more with the enjoyment of being recorded instead of a public setting or someone else actively watching (the ending also kind of ties back into it) ANYWAYS MWUAH

Double penetration (one hole)/threesome/exhibitionism x Haitani Ran, Haitani Rindou

“Ran you fuck--didn’t you ever learn how to share?” The younger Haitani snarled, shoving the older brother away from you. “It’s my turn.”

You don’t know how you got in between them--two of the most dangerous men in the entire country. You’ve heard stories of the terrors they got into when they were younger in Roppongi, how they climbed the ranks through different gangs, how they ended up as executives for the nastiest crime syndicate on this side of the world. It should terrify you, really, how you’ve gotten yourself tied up with these men. They could throw you away in an instant, kill you if you looked at them wrong--make you disappear from the life you know and use you as a drug mule. A thousand things can go wrong. 

And yet, you can’t help but smile whenever you’re with them.

You landed a job as a bartender in one of their clubs, normal job for the most part. You’d go in, do a bit of flirting, fight off a few way too drunk guys, and go home. You had no idea you’d been being watched for the better part of three weeks by the brothers themselves. You didn’t know what kind of place the club was until well after they formally introduced themselves as the co-owners, the Haitani brothers. Even then, you treated them the same way you’ve treated any other boss-with respect, but minimal interactions (as best you could, anyways.) They liked that, how you didn’t try to get money out of them, or sleep with them. They liked to keep it playful with their staff, but the women (and men!) would throw themselves immediately and it was such a turn off--Rindou would usually fire them the night after. They kept showing up at the clubs during your shifts, keeping a close eye on you. Ran started becoming bold and flirting with you on the job, which you brushed off as best you could. 

It wasn’t until an unruly patron tried to grab you after your shift that the men really intervened with you, Ran pulling you close into his chest to shield you (kind of) as Rindou pulled the trigger between the pig’s eyes and called in a cleaning crew to get rid of the body. It was then that you understood who they were, who really owned the club. They steadied themselves to hear grating screaming come from you, girls were usually scared after seeing something like that. Instead, you wrapped your arms around Ran tight, gripping at the back of his shirt and letting out a shaky ‘thank you’ before steadying yourself and (attempting) to go home for the night.

They hadn’t left you alone since.

And now you find yourself caught in between them most nights after your shift, in one of their beds. Tonight was different, you’ve noticed, because Ran started pulling out his phone and setting it up on the dresser across from the bed. “Mind if we record it, pretty girl?” His voice always sent shivers down your spine. “Go ahead-” your voice came out shakier than you hoped, hearing the younger brother attached to your neck chuckle. “Already so worked up, baby, barely even started.” He teased, kissing and biting at the juncture of your shoulder, fingers dipping underneath the band of your underwear. You whimpered, fingers combing through his wild locks and tugging at the root, bringing him up from your neck enough to press your lips against his--all tongue and teeth as he bit down on your lower lip leaving you breathless. He took the opportunity of your parted lips to shove his tongue in your mouth, licking at your own. You tried to keep up with his overwhelming pace, suckling on the tip of his tongue making him groan. “Fuuck baby, got so lucky with you didn’t we?” Rindou’s voice was ragged, much different than the smoothness of Ran’s--his was nearly scratchy in the best way possible. It made your hair stand up on the back of your neck. His hands came up to your throat, one wrapping around the back while the other grasped at your lower jaw, keeping you attached to him. You felt two taps on your ass cheek, and hands prying your underwear lower until it hit your knees. “Come on pretty, help me out and take these off.” Ran joined in, and you lifted each knee one at a time off the bed to let him remove the clothing fully. Your hands clawed at Rindou’s chest, trying to keep yourself afloat as the elder Haitani pressed open mouth kisses on your shoulder blades, trailing to your back. “Don’t think we can ever let you go, sweet girl.” Ran mumbled against your skin, raking his nails over the fronts of your thighs towards your weeping cunt. You broke away from Rindou enough to gasp for breath, nose to nose when you let out a small cry at the feeling of Ran’s hand slapping at your clit. 

Your lower half jolted away from the stimulation, but when Ran pressed himself against your back you had no choice but to take each smack he gave you. “Gotta take everything I give you, angel. Now be good for me, yeah?” Two fingers suddenly shoved themselves deep into your pussy, and Rindou had pressed his lips back to yours to muffle your cries. Even after all the times you’ve been in their beds, their fingers are a stretch to begin with. You’re dripping wet, but his fingers are so long they hit so deep. Ran starts off slow, sucking hickies into your shoulders and neck as he finger fucks you, smiling against your skin when he feels you fucking yourself back onto him. “There you go, beautiful~” He coos, scissoring his fingers inside of you rubbing at your walls so good. Your closed eyes open to look at Rindou in front of you, eyes already wild as he watches you meet each thrust of his brother’s fingers. A hand traveled lower from your jaw to grasp fully at your throat, fingers wrapping around and squeezing. “You can take some more, right baby?” Your eyes fluttered, barely able to nod while he was holding onto you like this, mouth dropping open. 

Rindou pressed his thumb against your nub, unable to move you had no choice but to take the stimulation--spit pooling at the corners of your mouth the same way tears did in your eyes. “R-Rindou-aah, please” You begged, though your brain couldn’t conceptualize why. A harsh smack to your ass left you squealing. “I’m here too, pretty.” You could hear the jealousy in Ran’s voice, and you knew you were right when you saw Rindou smirking. “Do better and maybe she won’t forget.” A slew of curses left Ran’s mouth before smacking at your ass again. “S-sorry! I’m sorry, Ran, I didn’t forget--honest.” You whimpered, doing your best to turn away from Rindou and crane your neck to look at Ran over your shoulder. “Aw, I know sweetheart. Gimme a kiss.” You occupied yourself with kissing Ran, who kissed you much slower than his counterpart. While Rindou was a wildfire, Ran was like flowing water. He kissed you slow and steady, taking his time to lick at your mouth and taste you. While Rindou was overwhelming, Ran was dizzying. Regardless of who was on you at any moment, they made you feel just as good. 

Ran kept you distracted enough for Rindou to push his ring and middle finger into your cunt alongside his brother’s fingers--filling you and stretching more than they had in the past. “Oh fuck” You breathed out, trying yout best to keep up with Ran but Rindou was shoving himself into you so harshly already it was difficult to breathe. Rindou’s fingers were thicker than the elder brother, filling you up as Ran’s fingers hit deep. Ran let you go, and you turned down to see Rindou’s fingers pumping in and out of you, juices oozing onto his fingers with each fuck. Your forehead hit his chest, a hand reaching back and grasping at Ran’s wrist for some sick form of grounding--spreading your legs more to give them easier access to your sloppy pussy. “S’this feel good, baby?” Rindou questioned, curling his fingers towards that gummy spot in your cunt. “A-ah, yeah, fuck, yeah” You whimpered, clenching around their sets of fingers. Ran laughed behind you, “Yeah? Like when we fuck you with our fingers, angel? You want more?” Nodding against Rindou’s chest, they removed their fingers from your cunt--creaminess covering their hands. “Look at that~” Ran whistled, making a show of spreading his fingers and letting your stickiness web between them. He turned your head towards the camera, and the brother’s chuckled seeing how fucked out you looked in the camera. “Lick ‘em clean, beautiful.” Ran spoke first, presenting his fingers in front of your face as you greedily sucked at them, taking them deep into your mouth to the knuckle and making sure you sucked them clean. You watched yourself in the front camera lapping at his digits, clenching your pussy around air. When Ran pulled his fingers out you immediately turned to Rindou and stuck your tongue out--expectantly. “What a good girl you are” He teased, shoving his fingers into your mouth until you gagged, and turned you to face the camera again. “Go ahead baby.” Stray tears fell down your cheeks as you licked around his spread fingers tasting yourself on him. 

Ran moved off the bed to bring the phone closer, now on the night stand as he laid down, bringing you with him. You understood immediately what he wanted, and lined yourself up to his cock as he filmed you lowering yourself. He bit his tongue holding back a moan while your pretty sounds filled the air, steadying yourself on his chest before your arms are ripped back behind you. “Come on baby, you can do it right?” Rindou taunted, kissing at your shoulders while you kept a steady pace bouncing on Ran’s cock. The older brother had the camera right at your hole, watching the way your pussy swallowed him up and drooled around the corners with your juices. His free hand held onto your hip, Rindou pulling you back to lean more against him as Ran started meeting each bounce on his lap with a thrust of his own, a webbing of white covering his dick each time he pulled out. “Fuck baby, look so good taking my cock. You think you can take another one?” You weren’t sure you understood, and before you had time to think more about the question the phone was placed back down on the stand and Rindou pushed you towards the other, Ran grabbing at your face and making a scene of kissing you sloppy in view of the camera. “Look at yourself, pretty baby.” He whispered against your ear, holding you by the jaw towards the camera when you started feeling Rindou prodding at your already stretched out cunt with his own cock. Your eyes squeezed closed with your brows scrunched, mouth hanging open as he pushed himself into your hole alongside Ran. “Ooh my god, fuck! S’much, wait--wait it’s so much!” You cried out, Ran slapping you lightly on your cheek to get your attention.

“Open your eyes, pretty girl. Look at yourself while you get fucked by us.” Your eyes were fuzzy, unable to fully focus as you watched yourself drool, tongue lolling out and tears rolling down your cheeks as Rindou filled you inch by inch. You should be embarrassed, feel shame as they made you watch yourself like this--being used by two dangerous men. But you couldn’t feel anything except turned on, looking at your own reflection drooling and crying uncontrollably on their cocks filling you more than they ever have. You subconsciously tightened your walls around them, and their groans filled the air. “Fuck! So fucking horny watching yourself, huh baby?” Rindou snickered, leaning over and angling the camera to your lower bodies, pulling you up for a clear angle of both cocks pumping in and out of your pussy. Just like you did Ran’s, Rindou’s cock was covered in your creamy cunt, squelching and gushing with each pap, pap, pap of their cocks fucking up into you. You couldn’t do much but take it, sobbing with overwhelming pleasure as they used you like a sleeve. Rindou’s fingers came around your front to rub and pinch at your swollen nub, and in no time he had you crying out and creaming over them, each push in and pull out of their cocks leaving with a squish. Ran’s hands had a strong grip on your hips as he fucked up into you, and last minute pulling out to cum on your tummy, painting your front white with his cum. 

With only Rindou now inside your cunt he quickened his pace and fucked you harder, tugging at your biceps and pulling your arms back as leverage. Ran moved the phone again, for full access to your body and face as the younger brother left you a mess. “Ready for me, baby?” He grunted behind you and you nodded with a sob, suddenly feeling him leave your pussy and make a mess on your ass, grabbing the phone from his brother and recording him slap his cock on your ass, smearing his mess around. Giving the phone back, Ran recorded up to your face now. “Smile at the camera, pretty girl.” Panting, you looked up at yourself again in the phone, lazy smile playing on your lips--fucked stupid. Ran scooped his cum on a finger while you were still watching yourself and lifted it to your mouth, watching you lick him clean and sticking your tongue out as proof.

He stopped the recording and Rindou lowered you onto the bed, mumbling to himself how ‘gross’ it was to share a hole like that with his brother. “Whatever dude--she felt good.” Ran called over to the younger Haitani as he left to grab something to wipe you down with. “You good, baby?” He whispered to you, smoothing down your hair as you nodded with a smile. He fiddled with his phone as Rindou wiped you clean, kissing your forehead and praising how good of a job you did for them. His phone pinged, before Ran spoke saying “Sent it to you.” When he finally took a look he saw it was in the group chat they had with Sanzu, snapping his head up to look at his brother who already had a grin like the devil and shrugged.

“Oops.”

[pink-heart-jam]

Age Gap Recs - Pt 1

Anyone else craving some good age gap? 👀 this is my kryptonite in fic but due to the usual amount of dub-con in BL I often struggle to find something that checks all my boxes when it comes to manga/manhwa. I decided to compile my favourites in two lists - the first will focus on Koran titles and I’ll follow up with another list of Japanese titles. These are all explicit works (as they should be 🫡) and include different tropes. Most are WIPs so buckle up for the ride! Among the finished works I highly recommend Love for Sale as an incredible thought-provoking and cathartic love story :)

An Abyss by Cha ji-ahn

Kinard has lived for revenge after the incident that took place ten years ago. Despite his longtime friend Raman's worries for him, he and Yesing hid their identities under the alias, "chaff", and strived for revenge. In doing so, he runs into Alvin, who was certain that he was fated to die.

Daily Part Time Job by Danbi

Joo Yeomin is a hardworking college student that works day and night. He's also becoming an expert at running away from the loan sharks. One day, a suspicious man starts showing up at Yeomin's part-time jobs. "We know each other, right?" "No, we don't! Why do you keep following me?"

Love For Sale by Dal Hyeon Ji

Even in his wildest dreams, all Namwoo wants is to have enough money to survive each month. Si-eon, on the other hand, has everything he could ever want except happiness. Intrigued by Namwoo’s humble wishes, Si-eon offers him the money he wants – the catch being, he has to date him.

Lover Boy by Zec

Eunho Jung proposed to Jaeha Yoo, the older boy next door, for the first time when he was three. It stopped being cute when he confessed his feelings again in high school, and once Jaeha got married, the two lost touch. They're reunited by chance years later, Eunho as a university student, and Jaeha, a jaded divorcee. Eunho's determined to prove he’s not a kid anymore, but does Jaeha’s self-destructive spiral allow for feelings?

On or Off by A1

They say all's fair in love... and work?! After joining his friend's startup, university student Ahn Yiyoung never imagined he'd end up presenting their work directly to SJ Corporation, a major company headed by one of the most sought-after talents in the country: Kang Daehyung. It certainly doesn't help that, on top of being a bigshot executive, strikingly handsome Director Kang is his ideal type.

Onward by Hongssona

Swimming prodigy Woo Seungwon, whose very being is vast and endless like the ocean, runs into former a-list singer Doh Si-on. Si-on, now a businessman trying to stay afloat, is doing his best to move forward with his life; but the weight of the world only drags him down, as if he is struggling to crawl through a swamp. Taking an interest in Seungwon, Si-on offers him the opportunity to make some extra money as his housekeeper.

Our Sunny Days by Jeong seokchan

Sung Ho’s not the kind you’d typically expect to settle down in the countryside. He’s in his late 20s, ex-military, and… a single father with a year-old baby. Jobless and without any prospects but a house, Sung Ho hopes the peaceful Nuldongmae village will make a good new home for him and his daughter. Rumor has it that the head of the village, despite his young age, is a real jerk… But he won’t have to deal with that, will he?

Tender Night by Tan

All his life, Sungwon has known that he must follow certain expectations: dress well, be polite, and most importantly…be an alpha. Cruelly born a beta, Sungwon spends his days living a lie, presenting himself as the hardworking, accomplished, recessive alpha he wishes he could be. But once he meets college student-slash-bartender Park Hansol, things start to change.

The Dangerous Convenience Store by Gusao

Danger can come in many shapes and sizes, and the kind of danger Yeo Eui-joon has to deal with comes as buff, brash, and belligerent gangsters. He knew that working nights in a shifty neighborhood wouldn’t be the safest job on the planet, but reality sure does exceed expectations. However, it looks like Eui-joon’s days as the neighborhood punching bag are coming to a close when Gunwoo steps into his small store.

Under the Greenlight: In Dreams by Jaxx

Jin is the most beautiful man Matthew’s ever seen. He’s also a high-ranking and violent criminal full of frustrated ambitions and equally frustrated appetites. But Matthew, a sculpture student prodigy, can only see the beauty—not the darkness. One way or another, Matthew will pay the price for his muse, either with his body... or something far more costly.

[brkwingss]

— BASICS

Name: Ricardo Jimenez Age / D.O.B.: 32/04.14.1992 Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: Cis Male, He/Him, & Pansexual Hometown: Corpus Christi, Texas Affiliation: Brotherhood Job position: Fighter at The Arene/Bartender at Gentille Fille Education: One year of college Relationship status: Single Children: 0 Positive traits: (loyal, compassionate, courageous, reliable, confident) Negative traits: (reserved, temperamental, brazen, workaholic, pessimistic)

— BIOGRAPHY

(tw: mentions of death, car accident) ricardo was born in corpus christi, texas, to a family who didn’t have much to offer in terms of money and materialistic things. he lived in corpus christi for about two years after his birth, and his sister joined the family early during the second year. not too long after the arrival of his baby sister his father passed due to a terrible car accident on his way home from work; leaving ricardo's mother never the same since, and she took the first chance she could to take her children out of texas for a better life somewhere else.(tw: end)

they landed in queens, nyc. her father eventually started her own little buisness selling clothes and kept a steady income for the two of them. the problem was that with more income his mother made the more she drank, and eventually she stopped caring about the well-being of her kids. his step-father entered the picture when ricardo was very young. growing up, ricardo's step-father always drilled in him that HE would carry on the family name and there was no other path neither him or his mother could see, or want, for him. for the longest time, ricardo followed that path.

he took over caring for his little sister, despite having to also learn how to care for himself. he was proud that there wasn't a day his little sister would say 'i want..' and not be able to have whatever it was. even if his mother or stepfather did not care to be around much, ricardo made sure there was nothing but love in the household for his little sister.

(tw: death mention, car accident) every sunday ricardo would take his sister to the park. he enjoyed showing her that life was as normal as it could be without a mother or a father around, and he was always trying to get her to be as much of a kid as possible. she was his world from the moment she was born and it's something that he still carries to this day. when ricardo was thirteen, he took his sister to the park one tragic sunday. he looked away from her for a second and that’s all it took for her to run in the middle of the street for a rouge ball. by the time he had he turned to look at her, all he saw was the car’s impact and his sister disappear beneath it. as much as he screamed, cried, and tried his hardest to get her to respond to him, nothing changed the fact that his little light of joy was gone. he had no idea who they were, just that they were affiliated with a gang. (end trigger)

as ricardo got older, he began to discover parts about himself that he didn’t even know could exist. he discovered a darkness that filled the void the passing his little sister left, and he was consumed by guilt. if things were rocky with his stepfather before they were practically nonexistent now, and he found a passion in fixing cars. working on cars seemed to be the only thing that could keep him from exploding on everyone, for a while this worked. one of the other things he began to discover in himself was that his stomach seemed to tighten in knots whenever an attractive guy smiled in his direction. he found that his nights of passion with beautiful women no longer fulfilled him, but he couldn't make sense of what was happening. he didn't push further into his curiosity either because it infuriated him to think that he'd have to add another thing on the seemingly endless list of things for his father to hate him. he had to carry the family name, somehow, and he did not need to add further bumps in the road. still his mind often wandered.

he eventually found a home within the top wash laundromat as a clerk, while still doing mechanic stuff on the side. he's known to have a dry, sarcastic sense of humor that often mixes in with a dark sense of humor as well. his new home resides within the arene as one of it's fighters and gentille fille as a bartender. he's a scrappy kinda guy and will not hesitate to throw a punch, if need be, so he has a warning sign for anyone who wants to enter the laundromat and cause trouble.

— RANDOM HEADCANNONS

he has a huge heart. he'd give you the shirt off his back if you asked him and the guy wouldn't think twice about it.

he has a pup named teddy. he loves teddy to bits and pieces. there isn't a chance that ric doesn't take to show off pictures of teddy to anyone who cares.

huge into horror movies and fall! he's all about that shit. if you asked him to stay home to watch horror flicks instead of going out, he would make a dinner themed to said movie.

he loves hip hop and rock music. he pretty much listens to it constantly, especially when he's working out at the gym.

he is fluent in spanish and english!

he loves a good smoking session.

— WANTED CONNECTIONS / PLOTS

elizabeth beaufort: she is a very close friend to ricardo. there isn't anything that ric holds back from her, except when it involves the brotherhood. he helps take care of the twins wheneer elizabeth needs a night to herself, sometimes it's just because ric has planned a trip to the zoo for them or something like that. he considers himself almost like an uncle to them. needless to say, liz and ric are pretty hard ride or dies for another. once they killed a guy named paul. rip paul.

tristan zaire: the leader of the brotherhood and ricardo's roommate. rather, he's tristan's roommate considering he's living at tristan's place currently. at times he can forget that tristan is the leader of the brotherhood because the two of them have gone through so much together and they were friends before this madness had occurred. he's happy living with tristan, even if he's constantly looking for a new place to live. he sometimes feels like a burden to the other guy, though tristan has never said or done anything for him to even feel that way. he would protect and die for him because he's his close friend, but also because of obvious reasons.

luke c.h. weiss: he is one of ricardo's ex-boyfriends. they met shortly after his return to new york and dated for almost two years. he was pretty much ricardo's first boyfriend. they sometimes had a long distance relationship due to luke's constant work related travels. for a while that worked...until it didn't. the two broke up just before their two year anniversary, it was mutual. he holds no ill will towards luke in the slightest.

jude freling: father jude and ricardo share a very special connection but ric couldn't tell you how it began if you asked him. in his darkest of times, jude has been the only one who could knock some sense into him in a way only he could. his words bring a great comfort to ricardo and he looks up to the man a lot. he tries to help out around the church when the chance presents himself too.

vanja janko-pagonis: vanja also is an ex-boyfriend of his. they met out of pure chance one night, exchanged numbers, played a game of twenty-one questions, and the rest became history. they became ricardo's first love in many ways. they broke up due to a lot of life complications and to this day vanja holds a special place in ricardo's heart. he got a small red string tattoo on the fourth finger of his left hand that lets him keep them around even if they aren't physically there.

MORE CONNECTIONS TO COME

[leastlikelytoachieve]

To Love and to Be Loved (Chapter Two)

A/N: I'm so nervous to put the second chapter out. I've been reading other fics and I feel like mine doesn't match up. I hope you guys like it as much as the first one. I feel like it's moving super slow!! Anyways, what song do you think y/n should perform for Brucie???

Warnings: mild language, bad grammar/writing

Chapter One

“You thought you could run? You thought I wouldn’t find you?!” His screams sounded almost like an echo as they rang through my ears. It felt like I was running in place as I tried to navigate through the streets of Gotham. I tried to scream but no sound escaped my lips. “Oh come on baby..i just missed you..please come back to me…we can work this out…” I tried to steady my breathing as I ducked behind a dumpster, the putrid smell of garbage and god knows what else filling my lungs with each labored breath. “Come ON STUPID BITCH! SHOW YOURSELF!” I placed my hand over my chest and pulled the air through my nose and pushed it out through my lips, listening for his footsteps but hearing silence, and then “gotcha”

My eyes shot open, sitting up, pushing and kicking at the fabric holding me down. Scanning my surroundings, I found myself safe in my bedroom, covered in a layer of fresh sweat. I sighed and fell back down onto my pillows. Accepting that I probably wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep, I reached over to the side of my bed and grabbed my cell phone. I scrolled mindlessly for a few minutes before getting out of bed, the ache in my head a reminder of last night. I met him. All of those daydreams and I finally met him. I closed my eyes and tried to remember how it felt to be in his arms, the safest place in the city.

“y/n! Wake your ass up! It’s almost noon and we have soundcheck in an hour!” The fists on the door were enough to make me jump out of my skin.

“Yeah I’m up! Dickhead.”

“ Heard that!”

“You were supposed to!” I rolled my eyes, smiling to myself as I gathered clothes for the day. A cropped Nirvana T-shirt with ripped black skinny jeans, deciding to slip some fishnets under the ripped jeans and grabbed my knock off Doc Martens. One day I’ll be able to afford real ones, I mused to myself as I gathered it all in my arms and padded down the hallway into the bathroom. I turned on the shower and reached under the sink to grab some towels and a washcloth. As I pulled the cabinet open, the hinges broke and the cabinet door came off in my hand. Lovely. I set it down on the floor, got undressed and stepped into the shower. Cold. The water is always cold.

“I submitted an application to audition for the event that Bruce Wayne is hosting.” Alex said, mouth full of bacon as I poured a cup of milk. “They said we should hear back within a week with details about the audition. Have you gotten any more of the song finished?” the question caused me to sigh and set my glass down. “No, I had writers block for hours last night. I called it quits. I’ll work on it more tonight after the show.” he nodded as Georgia and Trevor came out of their room. “Alright! Let’s go! Onward!” Alex shouted as he pointed towards the door. I stopped in the doorway, turning around to look at the apartment. The half-ass walls, covered in posters and song lyrics. One day, I’ll be out of this shitty apartment.

“I’ll get another one. On the rocks, please” I sat down on the stool at the bar, placing my chin in my hand. Another show, another bar, minimal money. Johnny, the bartender handed me my drink as a man dressed in a baggy jacket and baseball cap sat down beside me. Johnny took his drink order before turning back to me. “Great job tonight, Y/N. As always.” i chuckled dryly. If only he knew how painful this mundane routine was to me. “Yeah. I don’t know Johnny. Maybe it’s time to hang it up. Find a boring 9-5. I’m not getting any younger.” he laughed and handed the man next to me his drink. “You are way too talented to work behind a desk, Y/N. Great things are coming for you. I feel it. I have to handle the other side of the bar. Keep that pretty head up, kid!” he waved as he walked away. I twirled the drink around in my hand, staring at the glass mindlessly when a voice from beside me caught my attention. “If it’s any consolation, I agree with him.” I looked over at the man, he had his head down but from what I could tell by his complexion he was young, close to my age. He had a strong jaw and slight stubble. I couldn’t see much but from what I could see, he seemed…familiar. He hadn’t even touched his drink. “A lot of people do, but when I look at my future, all I see is the same shitty dive bars, and the same shitty apartment.” He tilted his head towards me slightly but I still couldn’t see his eyes. “I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit.” Normally, I’m quick with responses. But I narrowed my eyes, leaning towards the stranger, trying to decipher where I had seen this man before and why his presence was so familiar.

“What happened?” I sat back, confused at his sudden question. “You have a scar. What happened?” The question was intrusive, borderline offensive. “Oh, uh, this old thing?” I lifted my finger to my face touching the raised skin that started just above my eyebrow and tore straight down over my eye and ended at the middle of my cheek. “It’s nothing. Just a constant reminder.”

“Of what?”

“Of why I am here…plus…it makes me look kinda badass.” I chuckled, bawling my fists up and holding them in front of my face.

“y/n! Let’s go! I wanna get home before the crazies wake up!” Alex interrupted the conversation, grabbing my arm.

“Well, I guess that’s my que.” I smiled and waved at the man, even though he hasn’t looked up to me from his drink since we started talking. I walked behind Alex, my brows furrowed together as I racked my brain, searching for a moment or a memory that I could connect with the man from the bar. Only turning around when we reached the door, he was gone. His glass, still full. Not a single sip taken.

I was woken up the next morning by a pillow to the head. I wrenched open my eyes to find Alex with a crazed look in his eyes, smiling wildly, pillow in hand. “y/nohmygoshourapplicationwasreviewedandsomemanwithanaccentsaidwegettoauditio-”

“Stop stop!” I yelled, my brain still fuzzy from being viciously yanked out of my dreamstate and looked at the clock. 4:02AM. holy shit, its early

“Just breathe, slow down, and start again”

“Okay,” he breathed “ our application was reviewed and some man with a fancy accent who said his name was allen or fred or something called last night and said they want us to audition! I’ve been waiting all night to tell you but I couldn’t hold it in any longer” I don’t get excited. It’s not in my nature. I hate getting my hopes up just to be disappointed. But I couldn’t help the smile spreading on my face and the scream emitting from my lips as i grabbed alex’s forearms and jumped with joy around my room. Alex reached over to the stereo and turned it on and soon, the apartment was filled with music and dancing and celebrating. I smiled and swayed my body around the room, dancing around alex, georgia and trevor. Stopping to look out the window, my smile couldn’t get any wider as I could just barely see the Wayne tower off in the distance. For the first time in months, I looked over Gotham with fresh eyes. Eyes full of hope. Eyes that settled on something a lot closer. A figure, standing on a building. Him. I could see the cape, blowing in the wind. I would almost think he was looking at me. But that would be foolish thinking. Surely, he’d forgotten about me. Just another girl to add to the list of people he’s saved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1:13AM.

I’d spent the rest of that day mostly writing the song. Now that it was real, now that we were actually getting to audition. Every now and then I would look up from the scribbled lyrics, into the shitty apartment and smile. This could really be it. After hours and hours of crumpled papers into the trash can, I finally perfected it. The song we would play for Bruce Wayne.

I made sure when we got this apartment, that the room I was in would have a perfect view of the signal. The giant bat in the air. I could see it shining from my window. I was staring at it for hours. Fuck it. I stood up out of bed and slipped on some leggings and my converse. I need to see him again. Tiptoeing through the apartment is almost pointless, the floors creak and moan with every step and it seems almost worse at night. I finally got out without alerting any of my roommates and began my descent down the many stairs of the apartment building. My plan was to figure out where the signal was shining from and work my way out into the city from there.

TWO HOURS, I spent searching for the signal, and right when I was ready to give up, I saw it. Shining from the top of an old building. I walked around the structure, trying to see if he was close by. Nothing. Nothing but a stupid unmarked police car presenting itself in the form of a ford focus in an alley next to the building. I huffed and tried to decide what direction I would go from there. This was stupid. Why did I of all people think I could track down The Batman?? My thoughts were interrupted by the vibrations of a car engine. I ducked behind a dumpster and pressed my hand over my heart.

Peering around the dumpster, my hand touched something slimy and my soul all but left my body as I kept myself from immediately screaming. I watched as the sleek car came to a stop right behind the unmarked police car and turned off. My breath hitched as he emerged from the drivers side door. I was certain my heart was bruising my ribcage as it pounded against it relentlessly. I pulled my body back behind the dumpster and placed my back against it as I smiled. I want to be closer. I decided the best gameplan would be to walk out inconspicuously from behind the dumpster in the alleyway and follow him at a far distance. I inhaled quickly and pressed my palms to the side of my head to calm myself down and stepped out from behind the dumpster with purpose. Only, I was halted to a stop by a brick wall. No. A chest. His chest.

“What are you doing here?” He looked down on me with none of the gentleness he had held in his eyes during our first encounter. It was the first time I had ever truly known the intimidation of Vengeance. Despite my fear, I looked around the alleyway like I was lost. “That is a good question actually! What am I doing here? Must’ve been sleep walking, haha…well, I’ll just be goi-” I tried to step around him, but he grabbed my wrist. “It’s dangerous out here. What are you doing here?” He doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who enjoys repeating himself so I decided my best bet was to answer his question. “I…I was looking for you…I wanted to see you..”

The hold on my wrist faltered as soon as the words left my mouth. “It’s just that, since you saved me. I’ve been thinking about how I completely overstepped with that kiss..” Lie. I loved the fact that I kissed him…I’d do it again. “...and I feel like maybe I was going through a lot of emotions and I maybe shouldn’t have do-” My sentence was cut short when the hand that was on my wrist suddenly came up to cup the side of my face. It was gentle and he looked me straight in the eyes, His eyes, while mesmerizing, looked as if he was having some unspoken, internal war with himself. As if he couldn’t even believe his own actions. His thumb, rough with the texture of the glove, traced over the bottom part of my scar, and I could swear I saw him lean towards me. But just as quickly as his hand was on my face, it was taken away. I let go of the breath that I didn’t realize I was holding.

“Come on..” he grabbed my wrist again and pulled me behind him. His eyes were scanning the roads, as if he was searching for a threat.

“Wh-Where are we- go-oing??” my words stumbled as my feet struggled to keep up with his long strides. He walked up to passenger side of the sleek car I watched him pull up in.

“I’m taking you back home.” he said as he swung open the door. I slipped into the car, trying to conceal the grin that was creeping onto my face.

The drive back to my apartment was reckless, invigorating. To say that I wasn’t slightly aroused by him at this moment would be a complete and utter lie. The excitement in my chest burnt into disappointment as he pulled up to my apartment building, his oceanic, blue eyes scanning the area again.

“So, I guess..this is goodbye..” I said sadly as I reached for the door handle, I glanced back at him to see if he was as disappointed as I was. But he had both hands on the wheel and his eyes were pointed straight ahead. Stupid. This isn’t a fairytale, y/n. Get out of his car. I sighed as I opened the door swinging one leg out and getting ready to stand when I felt a pressure on my wrist again.

“Wait..” I spun around in the seat to listen to what he would say when his other hand found purchase on the side of my neck and jaw, he got intoxicatingly close to me and stopped himself, like he was fighting the same unspoken war, i reached up and placed my hand onto his wrist. Slowly, he closed the small gap in between our lips. Letting out a sharp exhale through his nose, he kissed me like he won the war. His gloved hand sliding further back, into the nape of my neck, our kiss was full of desperation…and then it was over..

He pulled away quickly and reached into the back of the car…

Oh my god, he’s going to zap my memory away, men in black style.

But instead, he pulled out something small and shoved it into my hands.

“Keep this...use it, if you ever need me.” I glanced down at it. It was sleek, black and resembled a smart watch. I immediately secured it to my wrist and held it up. “Does wanting another kiss like that count as needing you?” The corner of his mouth quirked up a little in what was almost a smile…almost…

“Goodnight, y/n”

I smiled and stepped out of the car, I walked through the gate and only turned around when I reached the door. He was still there. Waiting for me to enter the safety of my building. I gave a small wave as I stepped in. As I closed the door, I put my back to it and smiled. I listened to the roar of his car as he drove away. Oh my god. I kissed Batman.

taglist: @n1ght5h4d3-24 @blue-aconite @daughter-of-the-king-bc @that-girl-named-alex @skywalker-spengler

[katyasrussianaccent]

symptom of your touch (natasha romanoff x reader)

Author's note: This is my first natasha smut fic, been writing it in my head for so long. Hopefully you enjoy this piece of self-indulgent smut!

Summary: You're Tony's personal assistant with a crush on Black Widow. Could it be possible that she might feel the same?

Warnings: Bathroom sex, bottom! Nat.

The first time you met Natasha was in the meeting room at Stark tower. You’d been working as Tony’s personal assistant for about two months now; a job that was both unexpected but incredibly appreciated - the daily bills through your letterbox were getting more and more threatening, red words in large letters demanding money you didn’t have.

You were a friend of Sam’s; you used to jog together before you were replaced by Captain America. You didn’t mind, not really, because well, it was Captain America. You couldn’t compete with that ass. And while you didn’t jog as much, Sam always made sure you were okay.

Like most people; you were a fan of the Avengers. If you had to pick a favourite, it would have been Black Widow. Maybe it was because she was the only woman, but there was something about her that you just really liked. And it wasn’t just because she’s really fucking hot and you’re really gay.

You had walked into the meeting room; your hands full with various drinks. For superheroes, the Avengers were really particular about their drink orders; for instance Thor gets really annoyed if they forget the whipped cream on his hot chocolate. You walked round the room, handing each drink out and trying to not look so obvious as you eavesdropped. You handed Clint his drink and turned towards Natasha. You assumed she had been away on a mission, because she hadn’t been around until now. You swallowed a little; the object of your affections was literally sitting right in front of you.

“Agent Romanoff,” you said, holding out her drink; a matcha green tea latte. She looked at you for a second, a thoughtful look on her face as she cocked her head towards Tony.

“What happened to…..?” Natasha trailed off, looking at Tony expectantly.

“Shannon. Pregnant,” Tony answered, putting his hands out over his abdomen to mimic a pregnant stomach. “She was two seconds away from turning the floor into a slip and slide.”

Natasha scrunched her nose up before looking back at you. She took the drink from your hand, a small smile on her face before she turned back to the team. And it was in that brief moment, that you knew that she was going to be a big problem for you.

It’s a while before you see Natasha again; not that you were keeping check. You’re in the meeting room cleaning up; humming a song as you pick up pieces of paper. The door opens and you look behind to see Natasha standing in the doorway.

“Oh. Good afternoon Agent Romanoff,” you say, smiling. She was in her civilian clothes; a simple tank top and dark jeans. The jeans are practically molded to her shape, and it takes every ounce of willpower to not stare at her ass as she passes behind you. You aren’t sure how someone could make such a simple outfit look so amazing. “Did you need something?”

“Clint, he forgot his phone,” she replies, walking behind you and grabbing the cell phone that lay on the table. “I swear he would forget his head if it wasn’t attached.”

“Good thing he has you to keep him in check.”

She smiles politely in reply but doesn’t respond as she walks towards the door. Your mouth opens slightly to say something, anything, to make her stay just a little bit longer. You fail to do so in time, and you sigh as the door closes and the room is empty again. You aren’t sure what makes Natasha so fascinating, you’ve spoken to her literally twice, but there’s just something about her that makes her so enigmatic. Though you suppose it’s literally her job to be like that, and you briefly think of the people that have fallen under her spell.

It’s strange, how although she’s incredibly dangerous, she feels just like a normal person, a person that could kill you in one move, but a normal person nonetheless.

You’re chopping tomatoes in the kitchen, your mind starting to zone out as you watch the knife slice through with ease. It’s been a long day; while working for Tony has been a lifeline that you desperately needed, you don’t think you’ve ever felt so tired. The fridge door beside you closes, and you startle at the sudden noise, the knife moves from the tomato to your finger, the pain sharp as blood begins to pool in the cut.

“Fuck,” you say, hissing as you press you other hand against the cut, moving to the sink to run it under water.

“I am so sorry,” a voice says behind you, and you turn your head to see Natasha at your side. “Are you okay?”

You sigh a little, “I’m fine, but the tomatoes are ruined.”

Natasha moves nearer to you, so close you can feel the heat radiating from her body and any previous pain you felt has suddenly disappeared at the mere proximity of her. “It’s okay, Stark can afford a few tomatoes.”

You giggle before reaching over to get a paper towel, but Natasha beats you to it, pressing the towel onto your wound wordlessly.

“Baby,” she mutters as you wince and you look at her, mouth agape in shock. She ignores you, and you take this opportunity to look at her as she tends to the small cut on your finger. She must have been somewhere hot on her last mission; from this close you can see the slight colour on her nose and cheekbones where she’s caught the sun. As she moves out of your personal space, the scent of her invades your nostrils and you’re surprised that she smells so delicate and floral.

“I think you’ll live” she says, jutting her chin out to point to the small band aid on your finger.

“Have you ever thought about being a doctor?”

“Why? My bedside manner not appealing to you?” she asks, and you look down to hide the blush on your face as you think briefly about what Natasha’s bedside manner could entail.

“Uh, not at all, it’s very appealing. I mean, not very appealing -”

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” she says as she leaves the kitchen, leaving you with a bandaid on your finger and a warmth between your thighs.

--

The first thing you notice about the party is how loud it is. It’s Tony’s birthday, so Stark tower has been transformed into a full on party tower. The room is crammed with people, and you take a moment to look around to see if you can find someone you know to attach yourself to. It wasn’t that you disliked parties, you just weren’t the type to spark a conversation with strangers. You can see Thor in the middle of the room, holding a keg as Steve is on the floor chugging from it. Guess even Captain America needs to let loose sometimes.

You bite your lip as you scan the people near you, your eyes zeroing in Natasha. You take the opportunity to watch her briefly from a distance. She looks amazing, a simple black dress that has a slit to the upper thigh that shows a delicious amount of leg when she moves. You haven’t spoken since she called you cute, and the more you thought about it, the more confused you were. While cute was a compliment, you weren’t sure if she meant it in a puppy kind of way. Sexy wasn’t the first thing you thought about yourself, but you kind of wish that she had picked a better word. Maybe you were just imagining tension that wasn’t there because you hoped it was there.

You exhale any nervousness and plaster a smile on your face as you walk towards her. She raises an eyebrow in greeting and you wave at her, immediately regretting it.

“Hi,” you greet and she smiles a little.

“You look nice,” she says, her eyes roaming over your body. Okay, maybe you weren’t imagining things.

You blush, your face feeling warm as you mutter a quiet thanks. “It has pockets,” you respond lamely, putting your hands in them and pulling the dress out, like she needs to be shown what pockets were.

“Drink?” Natasha asks, cocking her head towards the bar. You shake your head. “You don’t drink?”

“I do, just not here. I don’t want to make an idiot of myself in front of my boss,” you answer. You don’t have a problem with alcohol per se, you just never know when to call it quits. And while drunk you is fun, you really want to make a good impression.

Natasha nods in understanding but walks off towards the bar anyway, and you stand there for a second confused before following.

“Two virgin daiquiris,” you hear her say as you get to her. You can see the bartender pull a face at the request, but it quickly disappears when he sees who’s ordering.

“Coming up,” he mumbles, his eyes glued to anywhere but Natasha as he moves with haste.

“I think you scared him,” you comment and Natasha smiles a little, a smug smile that shouldn’t be so sexy, but it really is.

“I get that a lot,” she replies and you hum in acknowledgement. “Do I scare you?”

The question takes you aback and you ponder a moment before answering. “Do you want me to be scared of you?”

“Answer the question,” she says, a little firm in her tone.

“No. No you don’t scare me.”

She purses her lips. “I think you might be one of the only ones not scared of me.”

“Is that a bad thing?” you ask and she closes her eyes for a second, sighing.

“Fear is a very powerful thing. I like the way it feels,” she says, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen her look so vulnerable.

“There are other powerful emotions other than fear,” you reply. You aren’t sure how to respond to her, serious conversation was not your strong suit.

“Like?”

“Lust. Love. Anger.”

There’s a beat of silence between you as you look at each other, your eyes reading over her unreadable face, nothing on her features to give away what she's thinking.

“So you aren’t scared of me. What emotion do you feel?” Natasha asks, causing you to splutter as you take a sip of you drink and you’re suddenly wishing your drink had alcohol in it.

“Out of the three I just gave?” you ask and she nods. “Uh well, I hadn’t um really thought about it.”

It’s stupid of you, to lie to a literal spy and you know for a fact she know’s you’re lying.

“That’s not true,” she replies and you take a sideways glance at her. “You think I haven’t noticed you looking at me?”

Your heartbeat quickens and you start to stammer an apology. “I - “

“I know, because I’ve been looking at you too.”

“Wait what?” you ask incredulously. “Are you sure there’s no booze in this drink?”

Natasha laughs and you smile at the sight of her. “Very sure. You’re very cute, did you know that?”

“I did not, but now I do. I’ll be honest, this doesn’t happen to me a lot, so I’m not really sure what to say or do.”

She slides closer to you, a smirk on her face as she leans close, her breath warm on your cheek. “Well there’s a bathroom over there.”

It takes a minute for you to register what she means, and you can see her wait patiently as you look at the bathroom door across the room and then back at her. The blood is rushing in your ears as you grab her hand and pull her across the room, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

The bathroom is luckily empty when you both enter, and your hands don’t leave hers as you push her into the stall furthest away from the door. You open your mouth to speak but it’s interrupted as she surges forward, her lips on yours. She tastes like strawberries with a slight hint of booze, and you wonder how many drinks she’s had before you arrived. You find yourself not really caring as her hands move to your neck, yours follow down to her hips, your fingertips ghosting her back.

You’ve kissed before, but this is different, like fireworks and gunpowder in a small room; every nerve in your body alight with hot, searing fire. You switch her round so her back is against the door, your hands roaming ever inch of her body, tight muscle beneath your fingertips. Part of you wants to take your time, explore every part of her, but the greedy part of your brain wins out and it’s not long before you’ve got one hand moving in between her thighs.

Your mouth is on her neck, licking and sucking at the hollow of her collarbone, a small moan falling from her lips and you want to hear that sound again and again. She opens her legs and you cup her above her panties before going underneath them, your fingers moving past soft curls and into the warm, wetness of her pussy.

You curl your fingers up, and she gasps, her breath hot and fast against your skin. You move them inside her, pumping in and out slowly as her hand grips at your hip. It feels powerful; to have the great Black Widow fucking herself on your fingers in an act of desperation.

“Please,” she whispers as you continue to slowly move.

“Please what?” you ask, stopping completely causing a small whine to escape her lips.

“Please fuck me,” Natasha replies, rolling her hips against your fingers.

“Okay,” you say simply. You press a kiss to her cheek before sinking to your knees. A brief thought about gross bathroom floors crosses your mind, but you push it away as her hand strokes your hair. She takes the hint and pulls her dress up around her hips. Your hands move up her thighs, nudging them apart so you can pull down the lacy underwear she wears; shoving them into your bag. Pressing kisses up her thigh, her breath hitches as your mouth ghosts against her clit. She sighs as your tongue swipes at her once before moving in to circle at her clit with your tongue.

She moans, a low, quiet moan that ends quickly as you both hear the bathroom door open, the chatter of two women filling the once silent room. You look up at her, raising an eyebrow in question. Natasha looks down at you, a slight flush on her cheeks as she nods. You place a finger to your lips, before moving back between her thighs. She tastes sweet, sweeter than you imagined, but there’s something there, a slight tang that makes your tongue tingle. Of course she would taste fucking perfect; everything about her is perfect, and you can’t stop yourself from tasting her more and more, drinking her in.

Your fingers join your mouth and she’s warm as she clenches with every movement inside her. She’s jutting her hips against your mouth, and you can feel your wrist start to cramp as you fuck her roughly, but you know she’s close, the grip in your hair getting harder. It’s starting to get uncomfortable, your knees are starting to hurt, but you want to make her come undone, to fall apart.

You hook her leg over your shoulder to get deeper, never stopping the pace as you fuck her. Her body begins to shudder, and you look up to see her shove a fist in her mouth at the exact moment the toilet next to you flushes. A moan escapes her but neither of you seem to care as she rides the wave of her orgasm. Her chest has a sheen of sweat, and you want to run your tongue over it, taste the salt of her skin. But that’s for another time.

Natasha looks down at you as she tries to catch her breath, and you get to your feet ungracefully, wincing as your knees twinge. There’s uncertainty in your stomach as you look at her. What does this mean, does it mean anything to her? You had just made her cum in a bathroom stall, but maybe that was normal. It wasn’t to you, but normality was subjective.

“This party’s kind of boring, do you want to get something to eat?” Natasha asks, breaking you from your inner turmoil. You blink at her as your brain registers what she’s saying. The once uncertain voice in your head is screaming at you to say yes.

“Sure,” you reply simply.

“Cool,” she says, nodding, her face still slightly flushed. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say she felt a little awkward.

“I’m not getting those panties back am I?” she asks as you walk towards the bathroom door and head back into the party.

“Nope,” you say, patting your bag for good measure. “Besides, you might not need them.”

--

[hotmesshapa]

VIP • Bang Chan

pairing: bang chan x female reader

genre: smut • DJ!chan x stripper!reader

rating: 18+

word count: 4.6k

warnings: strong language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, slight jealousy, very light orgasm denial and spanking, a bit of fluff

a/n: this is the first fic I’ve written in literal years and I have no idea what I’m doing, so I’m sorry in advance lol. also shoutout to these lovelies for being interested from the start 🖤 @mikoto-ica-fics @missskzbiased @bratforbin​ @jungkooksbroski​ 

There are three strict rules in the club: no touching the strippers, no romantic work relationships, and absolutely no sex in the club. Your manager had everyone sign off on his rules for a reason; you didn’t even want to imagine the chaos that could ensue if everyone was allowed to do whatever they desired in the club.

However, whenever Chan was DJing on the nights you worked, you always considered blowing off those rules. But you knew better. You both enjoyed your jobs at the club and wouldn’t risk getting fired over something as stupid breaking the few rules, despite the obvious sexual tension between the two of you. It’s not your fault that he always came into work wearing tight shirts that clung to his muscles in ways that made you drool. It’s not your fault that he flirted back whenever you playfully hit on him while handing off your playlist for the night. It’s not your fault you noticed the way his eyes hungrily stared you down whenever you were on the main stage, or the way his jaw clenched in jealousy whenever you took a guest to the VIP room.

But rules are meant to be broken, right?

Tonight starts out no different from any other work night: greeting the other girls and bartenders, taking a quick shot of tequila for an extra boost of confidence, and digging through your purse trying to find your flash drive of songs you want played for your routines.

“Got anything new for me, babygirl?”

You snap your head up at the sound of the handsome DJ’s voice. “Hello to you too, Chan,” you reply, rolling your eyes. He shamelessly checks you out and gives you a cocky grin that you can’t decide if it makes you want smack him or pounce on him “You know if Minho hears you speak to me like that, you’re in a world of shit.”

“Then it’s a good thing he’s not here tonight. But even if he was, he wouldn’t dare fire me. I’m the best DJ this club has.”

“Well then, fuck my drag,” Changbin pipes up from behind the booth, shooting a glare at Chan. “If you’re so great, set up your own table then.”

“Don’t listen to him, Binnie,” you giggle as you go back to searching for your flash drive, “He just likes to think he has all the power around here.”

Changbin scoffs as he continues to set up his mixers. “Only when you’re around. The other girls would kill to have him flirt with them.”

You feel your cheeks flush at the comment, but try your best to ignore the feeling as you turn back to Chan and hand him your music. “I have some new songs for tonight. Feel free to play whichever ones you want to watch me dance to.”

“Jesus,” Changbin rolls his eyes, “get a room, you two.”

You shoot Chan a quick wink, earning a smirk from him, and turn around to head to the dressing rooms, well aware his eyes are glued to you as you leave.

You close the door behind you and set your purse down on the vanity, checking your phone and cursing at the time. You hadn’t realized that your mini flirting session took up more time than expected, and start frantically getting ready, changing into your black satin two-piece that left very little to the imagination and applying a generous amount of body highlighter to every exposed part of you.

As you stare at yourself in the mirror, you can’t help but think about what Changbin had said. You and Chan flirt all the time, and normally it doesn’t affect you, but something about Changbin’s comment has your head spinning. Something about discovering Chan only flirts with you just makes you want to break the rules even more, but you don’t want to risk your jobs just because you desperately want him to dick him down. You wouldn’t do that to him. You sigh and slip into your stilettos, checking your appearance one last time before stepping out onto the main floor for your night to begin.

The night had been running smoothly as usual: three pole routines with the songs Chan chose from your collection (all by The Weeknd, of course), and a few rotations around the club flirting with guests, giving a couple of lapdances. You have a generous amount of bills tucked into your thong and bra, and you pull them out to count, trying to smooth them out and make them look somewhat presentable. You make your way to the DJ booth, where you find Chan leaning against the wall beside the booth, scrolling through his phone and sipping on a beer, while Changbin is behind the table, engrossed with the set he was playing.

“Here,” you say, handing Chan his tip. “You made some really good choices tonight. I had a feeling you’d choose The Weeknd.”

“What can I say,” he smirks, “You can’t just give me the option to play his hottest songs and not expect me to do anything about it. Especially when I get to watch you dance to them.” 

He suddenly leans in, closing any space there was between you two. “By the way, your routine to ‘Life of the Party’? So. Fucking. Hot,” he purrs, looking straight into the eyes.

“Chan,” your voice falters for a second, your eyes unintentionally dropping to his lips, before bringing them back up to meet his stare. You clear your throat in efforts to recover, desperately trying to ignore the heat rising in your core. “You’re gonna get us in trouble.”

“Come on, Y/N, would that be so bad?”

“God, I can’t leave you two alone for one set, can I?” Changbin slides himself between you and the other DJ, throwing an arm over your shoulder and playfully wiggling his eyebrows at you both.

You elbow him in the ribs, earning a dramatic cry from him in return, and you can’t help but giggle. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Three shots? Maybe four? I don’t remember.” He hums in appreciation as you hand him a wad of cash. “I can’t believe I’m gonna pay this month’s rent with your ass money,” he laughs, trying to shake off as much body glitter from the bills you handed him before sliding them into his wallet.

You roll your eyes. “I can give you tit money, if you pref-“

“There’s my baby!”

The three of you spin around at the familiar voice, coming face to face with a young man, his dark hair grazing his eyes as he shamelessly checks you out.

“Jisung! I was wondering when you’d show up!” Changbin greets the man with a typical bro handshake, before swinging an arm around his neck. “Here for the usual?”

“Of course,” Jisung smiles at you, “It’s not a Friday night without a visit with Y/N.”

Jisung was one of your regulars; he came in every Monday and Friday to book private lapdances with you, and only you. The first night he booked you, he almost immediately admitted how enamored he was with you, and ever since then, he refused to book with any of the other girls. And to be fair, you might have allowed him to break one of the rules, letting him grab your ass, hips and breasts as you danced, especially since that always earned a better tip from him. But now, while he still did request lapdances every now and then, he mainly booked you just to talk, and fortunately for you, he still tipped generously. He was an assistant to a big-time music producer, a job that came with a handful of stressors that he just needed to rant to someone about, and you were always willing to be there to listen.

While the relationship you and Jisung formed over the past year is strictly platonic, that hadn’t stopped Chan from developing a slight sense of jealousy. And to make matters more complicated, Jisung was well aware of that tension and loved to push the DJ’s buttons, much to your chagrin.

Jisung shifts his focus to Chan, giving him a cocky smirk that you know will be followed by a snarky comment. “I’ve been dying to see this pretty lil’ lady all day. You don’t mind if I steal her away, do you?”

“Of course not,” scoffs Chan, rolling his eyes. “You don’t need my permission. She doesn’t belong to me.”

“Awww. And I know that must be difficult for yo-”

“But she doesn’t belong to you either.”

Jisung says nothing for a moment, before cocking his head at the DJ with a smirk and stepping towards him. “Oh? Is that so? I don’t see anyone else going to the VIP room with her the nights I’m here.”

“Guys-” you feebly try to take control of the situation, but your words fall on deaf ears.

“Y/N is a human being, not a fucking dog, Jisung. Nobody ‘owns’ her.” Chan crosses his arms against his chest, looking the younger man dead in the eye. “If anything, considering you’ve been coming here and paying her the big bucks, for what, a year now? I’d say she’s the one that owns you.”

Jisung smirk immediately disappears and you swear you can feel the air between the two men flood with tension. But within an instant, he smiles again, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Now, now, there’s no need to get your panties in a twist. But don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her and have some fun for the both of us. If you want, I can tell you all about it later.”

You quickly glance at Chan, his fingernails digging into the skin of his biceps, his jaw clenching so hard he looks like he could bust a vein in his neck.

“That’s enough,” Changbin interjects, massaging his temples in frustration. “Come on, Chan, you’re in the booth next. And Jisung? Just remember the club rules-”

“I know, I know,” Jisung rolls his eyes and turns back to you. “Shall we, baby?”

You nod, silently praying that Changbin will calm everything down once you leave, and the two of you head to the VIP room. Jisung opens the door follows you inside, jumping in surprise when you slam it shut and shoot him a glare, and he only laughs in response. “What? If you can tease him, why can’t I?”

You sit on the maroon leather couch in the VIP room, counting your tips and mentally making sure you had enough to pay your upcoming bills for the month. Jisung had left about twenty minutes ago, and the lack of muffled music from the main floor indicates that it’s finally 3am and the club is closed for the night. You release a long sigh, slouching in your seat and resting your head back on the couch. You close your eyes, your mind still reeling from everything that happened. Everything about tonight shocked you. Usually, Chan was good at hiding his jealousy, since the last thing both of you want was to scare away potential guests, or for Minho to notice. But Chan talking back? His reaction to Jisung’s last jab before leaving for the VIP room? Those were new.

You have never seen Chan that jealous, and if you’re being completely honest with yourself, it was fucking hot. Thoughts of Chan not only standing up for you, but also being possessive of you, and what he could do to you out of jealousy filled your head, and you feel a sudden tingle shoot down to your core. Everything in you knows that you shouldn’t fuck Chan. There are rules, but you can’t stop your mind from imagining all the possible sinful acts you could do with him that you would do anything for at this point. You know that would be a bad idea, but the delicious wetness pooling between your thighs shoves any inhibitions you previously had out the door.

Fuck the rules.

You walk out onto the empty main floor, letting out a breath of relief to find Chan packing up his mixers - alone. You tap on the booth to get his attention, giggling when he jumps in surprise.

“You’re still here? I’d thought you’d be gone by now.”

“I was just counting tips,” you reply as you glance around the club, making sure you two were truly alone. “Chan… about earlier-”

“Yeah... sorry about that.” He lets out a long sigh and runs his fingers through his dark, messy hair, the tips of his ears turning pink in embarrassment. “I don’t know what came over me. I just... you know I get a bit jealous sometimes, and that prick was being extra annoying about it tonight.”

“Not gonna lie though, your clapback was pretty great. And hilarious,” you nudge his arm with your elbow.

He laughs. “Yeah, well I’m glad you thought it was, because Changbin sure as hell lectured me about it for a solid 15 minutes.”

A comfortable silence falls between you both as Chan goes back to packing up the table. You chew on your bottom lip, trying to figure out the best way to ease any tension that might be lingering, and to bring up what you truly want from him. “Chan... Jisung and I just talk when we’re in the VIP room. Nothing happens-”

He shakes his head, keeping his focus on his current task. “You don’t need to tell me, Y/N. It’s honestly none of my business what you do with the guests. Like I said earlier, you don’t belong to me.”

“But what if I want to?”

His head snaps up to meet your gaze, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep yourself from giggling at the look of utter confusion on his face. You lean in closer, lips inches away from his, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Y/N… w-what are you doing?” Chan shakily asks, his stare flicking between your eyes and your lips.

“Something I’ve been wanting to do for ages.” With that, you close this distance between the both of you, and you practically feel him melt into your touch. His wraps his arms around your waist to pull you closer to him, kissing you with such an intensity that ignites a fire in your core. He backs you up against the wall of the DJ booth, pressing his hips against yours and gently rolling them into you, making you moan against his lips.

Chan hesitantly breaks away from the kiss, breathing heavily as he searches your eyes for any sign of uncertainty or regret. “Y/N. The rules. I don’t want you to get fired-”

“I honestly don’t give a flying fuck about the rules at this point,” you purr, placing kisses along his jaw and neck. “Do you?”

He breaks into the biggest grin you have ever seen, and it makes you smile in return. “Fuck no.” His lips come crashing onto yours, deepening the kiss to the point where it’s a mess of teeth and tongues, indicating how desperately  both of you have been wanting to do this.

His head snaps up to meet your gaze, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep yourself from giggling at the look of utter confusion on his face. You lean in closer, lips inches away from his, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Y/N… w-what are you doing?” Chan shakily asks, his eyes flicking between your own and your lips.

“Something I’ve been wanting to do for ages.” With that, you close this distance between the both of you, and you practically feel him melt into your touch. His wraps his arms around your waist to pull you closer to him, kissing you back with such an intensity that further ignites the fire in your core. He backs you up against the wall of the DJ booth, pressing his hips against yours and gently rolling them into you, making you softly moan against his lips.

Chan hesitantly breaks away from the kiss, breathing heavily as he searches your eyes for any sign of uncertainty or regret. “Y/N. The rules. I don’t want you to get fired-”

“I honestly don’t give a flying fuck about the rules at this point,” you purr, planting kisses along his jaw and neck. “Do you?”

He breaks into the biggest grin you have ever seen as he brings a hand up to gently cup your cheek, and you can’t help but smile in return. “Fuck no.” His lips come crashing down onto yours, nipping and sucking at your bottom lip, asking for entrance which you instantly give him. You can feel his hard on growing beneath his jeans as he rolls his hips against you once more, making the knot in your stomach tighten.

“Hey, so I’m done-”

Changbin’s voice abruptly interrupts your heated rendezvous, making you frantically scramble out of Chan’s arms and dive underneath the table, while Chan quickly pretends to continue breaking down the DJ booth.

“You guys are literally the least discreet people I know. It blows my mind that you haven’t been caught yet.” You can’t see him, you just know Changbin is shooting Chan one of his signature death glares, intended for the both of you. You poke your head out from behind the booth, which only gets you dramatic eye roll from the other DJ. “Just don’t make a mess and don’t forget to lock up,” he grumbles as he turns to leave. “Oh, by the way bro, you got shit on your face.”

You glance up at Chan, giggling at your lipstick smeared along his lips, jaw, and neck, the bright red color prominent against his pale skin. He narrows his eyes at you, and you innocently mouth the word “whoops”, grinning as he rolls his eyes.

As soon as you hear the doors close, Chan pulls you to your feet, lifting you up and pinning you to the table. He attacks your neck and collarbones with rough kisses, but thankfully not rough enough to leave any marks that’ll need to be covered up for your next shift. Desperate for more, you wrap your legs around his waist and grind your hips up against his, smirking against his lips as he groans into your mouth.

Chan begins to plant wet kisses down your stomach as his hands frantically move from your hips to his belt. He begins to undo the buckle before you grab his hands to stop him, which only gets out a small whimper in confusion from the man. “Not here,” you lean up to pull him closer and playfully nip his bottom lip, before grabbing the hair at the nape of his neck and pulling it so he’s looking you straight in the eyes. “The VIP room.”

Chan’s eyes darken with lust as he harshly kisses you again, deepening the kiss to the point where it’s a mess of teeth and tongues, but it makes the heat between your legs grow by the second. You let out a yelp in surprise as he lifts you into his arms without warning, making his way to the infamous room where he’s watched you lead guests into night after night.

The second he steps into the VIP room, it’s as if both of your desires are kicked into overdrive, the desperation for what you’ve been waiting for all this time becoming almost unbearable. You take his bottom lip between your teeth again and tug on it lightly, relishing the way his grip on your ass tightens exponentially. Chan kicks the door closed, not breaking the kiss for one second as he sits down on the leather couch, positioning you so that you’re straddling his lap. You can feel his prominent bulge underneath the rough material of his jeans as he ruts up against your clothed heat, and you whimper as you grind against him, desperately wanting more and trying to indicate how much you want him need him now. You feel his hands firmly hold you in place, halting your motions and making you whine in frustration, which only earns you a low chuckle in response.

“Use your words, Y/N. Tell me what you want.”

You roughy kiss him and swivel your hips against him, smirking when he releases a throaty groan against your lips. You take a hold of the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him away from you so you can look him in his lust-filled eyes. “I want you, Chan. All of you.”

Chan smirks, giving you a quick kiss before lifting you off his lap, pulling down his jeans and flinging them off to god knows where. You hastily rip off your two piece and toss it haphazardly across the room, giggling when Chan pulls you back into his lap the second you’re bare in front of him. His gaze is locked on your form, taking you all in before looking back into your eyes. He stares at you as if you are a goddess, and you feel your cheeks flush from the attention.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he mutters, his hands sliding up and down your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He brings one hand to your jaw, pulling you into a searing kiss, his other hand taking hold his rigid member and sliding it through your sopping folds, making you shameless moan aloud. “Ride me babygirl,” Chan mumbles as he begins to kiss and nip at your collarbone, “take what you want from me.”

With that, you slowly lower yourself onto his cock, keening at the way he deliciously stretches you out, finally giving you the taste of what you’ve been wanting for so long. Chan throws his head back, screwing his eyes shut, a sinful groan falling from lips as you sit on him completely. Giving yourself a moment to adjust to his size, you wrap your arms around neck and pull him back so he’s meeting your gaze. You take his hands and intertwine them with yours, pinning them behind his head as you begin to ride him, slowly lifting yourself off him before quickly dropping back down. A string of illicit moans and curses falls from Chan’s lips, his hands firmly gripping yours, desperately trying to keep himself from breaking your grasp and taking control. He trails wet kisses down your chest, licking your nipples before taking them into his mouth and rolling them between his teeth, making you whimper and lean into his touch. You pick up for pace, admiring the way his face contorts into different expressions of pleasure as he throws his head back and looks up at you with glassy eyes.

“S-shit babygirl...”

His bout of self control doesn’t last much longer, because the next thing you know, Chan rips his hands from your grip, placing them on your hips as he begins to thrust up into you, meeting your movements halfway, hitting you in just the right spot. He moves a hand from your hips to rub firm circles against your clit, making you cry out in pleasure.

“F-fuck... Chan- oh my god...”

You try your best to continue to ride him, but you feel your thighs getting weaker and weaker with every thrust. You feel the pressure in your core building to the point of complete euphoria, when he lifts you off of him completely. You whine in frustration, feeling your high fade, hating how empty you feel without him buried inside you.

“Don’t worry baby,” Chan chuckles at your protests, suddenly flipping you around and positioning you on all fours on the couch. He places a tender kiss on your shoulder blade, before moving up to nibble your earlobe. “You’ll get to cum soon enough.”

He aligns himself with your entrance and eases into you, the new position allowing him to fill you deeper than before, making you both release illicit moans at the feeling. Chan slowly retracts his rock hard member from you, only to instantly plunge back into you, taking no time to pick up the pace, slamming into you at a rate that’s making you see stars. The momentum of his actions force you forward on the couch, making you cling desperately to the armrest in attempt to stable yourself, praying your shaky legs won’t completely give out underneath him. Suddenly, a sharp slap comes down on your ass, making you cry out and clench around him.

“Fuck... you like that, baby?” He massages where his hand had landed, only to spank your ass once more.

“G-god, yes Chan... p-please... harder.”

You feel another slap, come down on your other cheek, this time much harder, and you can’t help but moan loudly at the feeling, the delicious sting causing your grip around his cock to tighten exponentially. You hear him let out a low groan as his hips begin to slap against yours at a brutal speed, and you feel the knot in your stomach begin to unravel again.

“C-Chan, I’m... I’m close...”

“I know, babygirl, I can feel you.” Chan leans over you and plants rough kisses against your neck. “Go on, Y/N, cum for me.”

With his permission, you come undone around him, your release white hot, hitting you like a train and making your mind go completely blank as he continues to roll his hips into you, helping you ride out your high. Your legs feel useless under you, but thankfully Chan’s firm grip on your hips keeps you from collapsing from exhaustion. His thrusts start to become more and more erratic, desperately chasing his own high, groaning at the feeling of your tight pussy still throbbing around him. You can tell he’s close, and clench around him hard, smirking as you hear a string of curses fall from his lips, his hips rutting and quivering against you as he paints your walls white, and you hum in content at the warm feeling.

Chan slowly pulls out of you and falls back on the couch, gently pulling you so you’re laying on top of him. You leans up and playfully nip at his bottom lip, making him chuckle.

“That was...”

“Amazing,” you giggle, burying your face into his chest.

A comfortable silence falls between you two, and you eyes flutter close as you bask in heat the radiates from his body. He absentmindedly run his fingers lightly up and down your back, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” He quietly asks, as if he’s hesitant to bring it up again. “Do you want want to belong to me?”

You look up at him, and you swear you can feel your heart expand at the way he’s staring back at you with so much hope and adoration. “I do... god I really do, Chan, but you know we can’t. We barely manage to flirt without getting caught, so this has to be one-time thing-“

“I got offered a job at a different club,” Chan quickly blurts out. “It has better hours, more creative freedom since I wouldn’t be DJing for strippers... If I took it, would it change things?”

“You’d do that? But you love this job.”

“I do, but not gonna lie, I mainly love it because I get to see you.” His comment makes you blush, and you bury your face in his chest again if efforts to keep him from noticing, which only gets you a soft laugh as he gently tips your chin up to face him again.

“Honestly, if it means I can do what we just did with you whenever we wanted, without having to worry about stupid rules or anything, then fuck yeah I’d take another job. The only downside is I won’t be able to watch you dance when I work.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, laughing when you just roll your eyes at him.

You sit up, positioning yourself so that you’re straddling him once more. “That just means you’ll have to come back here as a guest.”

“Hmmm...” he mumbles as his eyes travel up and down your body, his hands reaching around and lightly squeezing your ass. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to follow the club rules though.”

“Don’t worry about those,” you purr, leaning down and nibbling on his ear, earning a quiet moan from him. “If you become my regular, all the rules are off the table.”

“I like the sound of that.” Chan gently cups your jaw and pulls you into a tender, but passionate kiss.

You smile against him, running your fingers through his hair, before pulling away slightly, your forehead resting against his. “Then I’m yours, Chan.”

“And I’m yours as well,” he whispers, pressing one more kiss to your lips, before wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you off the couch, earning him a yelp from you. He lays you down on the couch, hovering over you with a mischievous smirk plastered on his face. “What do you say, let me show how I can really treat you in the VIP room?”

[ill-be-your-honey-bri]

STORY PAGE | PLAYLIST | INSPO

PROLOGUE WORD COUNT: 7,764

The early afternoon heat of LA was radiating off the pavement as Harry made his way up the Azoff-Christiaansen driveway after his five-mile run. He could feel his grey tank top stick to his back and couldn’t wait to take a cool shower to rid himself of the grime and LA smog that had accumulated on his tanning skin.

Since the tour had ended, Harry had been staying as a house guest. He had made it a point to do some small chores around the house as a way to show his appreciation. On his way in the house, he had checked the mail and picked up the newspaper that was laid on the doorstep before he had keyed his way into the home. He was greeted by an overly-excited Myles, who happily wagged his tail, seeing his best friend had returned home. Harry made sure to give the pup some much deserved scratches behind the ears, before walking him to the back of the house to let Myles out to do his business.

Harry returned to the counter leading to the kitchen, where he had dropped off the mail after grabbing a glass of water. He flicked through the pile, knowing that there might not be anything for him, but organized and separated it for the homeowners when they returned from work. Towards the end of the pile, he came upon a ruby red envelope that had, not only Jeff and Glenn’s name, but also Harry’s. He had read over the font and looked to the return address, a smile began to spread on his lips.

Since it was also addressed to him, Harry decided to open it. Upon turning the envelope over to pop open the lip, Harry saw the gold wax was sealed with an embossed “D”. He ran his forefinger along the seam to expose the milky white cardstock, edged with gold flake. He had pulled out the invitation to the 40th Wedding Anniversary for Don and Elenore D’Angelo.

Harry met Don at Shangri-La Studios when he was just starting his solo career. Don just so happened to own the studio.

Don was always so warm and welcoming, as was his studio. It seemed fitting that the studio fell into the hands of Don, always in the world of music since he was a child. His father was in an Italian folk band when he was growing up in Italy; He was certain that the music world was where he needed to be. He had always known that he had wanted to be a music producer, to help musicians make music the way they want, to sound the way they desired. He had decided to move to one of the only places that made sense to make music; Los Angeles. Music in the ’70s was booming in LA and after learning the trade, Don was lucky enough to get a job at Shangri-La, which is where he had met the love of his life.

One day, when Don was working, he met Elenore, his Ellie, who had been interviewing The Band at Shangri-La. She was one of the first women to be working for Rolling Stone as a writer. She was a 70’s work of art with her Farrah Fawcett hair, high waist wide legged trousers, and a cropped tank top. She was a firecracker. She gave Don a run for his money when he had tried to get a date with her but when she finally agreed, he had always joked that “she couldn’t say no to the Italian charm”.

Harry had always loved hearing their love story whenever he was lucky enough to see them both at the studio. He has always been a hopeless romantic, so it was an honor to be invited to a monumental anniversary. Harry had walked over to the fridge and grabbed the puppy faced magnet to post the invitation on the door to remind him and his roommates of the date of the party.

September 29, 2018

Jeff had called up to Harry as he was spritzing on his Tom Ford, gently placing it on the dresser before walking to the bed to pick up his suit jacket. He pulled the simple black blazer over his shoulders, flattening out the black velvet lapels while taking a final look in the mirror. He ran his fingers through his hair,  breaking up the curls he had just put product into. He had lightly jogged down the stairs, meeting Jeff and Glenn in the front hall before they collectively went to the car to make their way to the anniversary party.

The party was in full swing when they arrived. The venue was already full of people, some of which Harry had known, including the rest of the Azoff family. Harry had come to learn through Jeff that the Azoff’s and D’Angelo’s had “practically grown up together”. Irving Azoff had met Don at a party when they were both starting their careers and the rest was history.

Irving was quick to call his son and company over to him where he was sharing a drink with the man of the hour. Don was quick to give firm hugs all around, beaming and resting his hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Long time since I have seen you! You look good!” Harry blushed at Don’s compliment, agreeing that it had been too long since they have been together. Don was just about to say how excited Ellie was going to be to see him but she was already making her way over to the group before Don even had the opportunity to warn Harry of her eagerness.

Harry had turned to his left, away from Don, when he felt a hand rest in the middle of his spine. A wide smile grew on his face as he saw Ellie start to wrap her arms around Harry’s neck, squeezing tightly and kissing his cheek thrice. She pulled away, holding his cheeks in her hands, her glowing smile lighting up the room.

“I’m so glad you could make it! It has been too long!” Harry’s hands remained on Ellie’s waist as he nodded his agreement, commenting on how he and Don had just said the same thing. “You should come over for dinner on Sunday, join the family! We would love to have you there.”

She had continued to hold his cheeks, rubbing her thumbs on his blushing cheekbones as a shy grin formed on his lips. With a quiet, “alright, I’ll be there,” he agreed to dinner. Don was chuckling as he watched his wife swoon over the boy. He mumbled her name to grab her attention and it took her a moment, but she finally looked to Don and saw one of their sons approaching. She gasped and grabbed Harry’s hand pulling her over to her eldest.

“Harry, have you met our son, Justin?” Harry had reached his hand out to shake hands with the man, who looked like a younger version of his father.

“We may have met once, I believe, at the studio?” Justin had nodded in agreement.

“Nice to see you again man,” He greeted. A woman had walked over to their group and wrapped an arm around Justin’s lower back, catching his attention. “Have you met my wife, Christine?”

Christine had smiled at Harry and shook his hand, telling him that she was a fan of his first album and how she went to both of the LA shows. At this rate, Harry felt like there was a good chance he would be blushing all night. Christine’s attention was quickly pulled away, to what Harry was told was their two children, Dylan and Matthew.  Two other men were quick to walk over to the group, both kissing Ellie on the cheek and hugging Justin.

“This is our other son, Micheal, and his husband, Dean.” Both shook hands with Harry as they greeted themselves. Micheal was quick to pull Justin away with him, leaving Dean with Ellie and Harry. Ellie was looking around the room, clearly searching for someone. Harry took the opportunity to take a look around the room as well.

He watched Don walk over to them, kissing the top of Ellie’s head. “Have you seen our baby, Don? I want to introduce-”

She was cut off when the music had stopped and there was a clearing of a throat in a microphone. Everyone had turned to the stage and whoever was front and center was a vision.

She was dressed in a soft yellow sundress with light brown leather wedge heels. Her smile matched Ellie’s, who happened to be beaming back at the girl on stage.

“Hello everyone. Um, I just wanted to thank you for coming out to celebrate our parent’s love.” Oh. Harry didn’t know that the D’Angelo’s had a daughter.

“Us D’Angelo kids wanted to perform a little something for you, Mom and Dad. Seemed fitting since we are the damn Partridge Family.” The crowd had laughed as she had scoffed a laugh into the microphone. “So, Mom and Dad, if you would kindly make your way to the center of the floor…”

Don had grabbed Ellie’s hand, kissing it softly as they walked to the middle of the room. Their daughter turned to grab an acoustic guitar and nodded at Michael who was sitting behind a piano, and Justin behind the drumset. She made her way back to the microphone and the first chords to a song Harry knew very well, began to fill the room.

“Looks like we made it, look how far we’ve come, my baby. We might’ve took the long way, we knew we’d get there someday.”

Don and Ellie began to sway to the song, held close to each other, and exchanged smiles and kisses as they listened to their children perform. All eyes were on the couple but Harry couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

She performed effortlessly, hitting every note perfectly with her warm and angelic voice. He watched her delicate fingers switch chords and strum soothingly. She was smiling down at the couple in the center of the floor as she finished the song. Without waiting for the applause, she was quick to put down the guitar to climb off the stage to hug her parents. Harry watched the interaction as well as watched as she made her way to the bar.

Harry’s feet had a mind of their own as he found himself at the bar next to the D'Angelo's daughter. She was leaning over, talking to the bartender while tapping the toe of her shoe into the floor to the beat of the music. She had turned to look and the man standing next to her, which so happened to be Harry.

“Well, hi! My mom was waiting for this moment all day.” She was breathtaking; her smile was like sunshine breaking through storm clouds. He could get lost looking into her warm eyes. They were surrounded by long, dark lashes and her long dark hair was in loose curls cascading down her back. He had to fight the urge to wrap one of the silky curls around his finger.

She continued to look at him, raising her brows as her smile grew. “I’m Bianca, by the way. Nice to meet you, Harry.”

He cleared his throat and reached his hand out for her to shake, “Nice to meet you too”. He felt her soft hand, also littered with rings of gold, just petite for her smaller hands. He turned her hand to look at the jewels, which had caused her to laugh.

“I was just about to look at yours too.” He smiled as he continued to hold her hand in his, his pointer finger of his free hand running over the jewels. He had pointed out one that he liked in particular, it sticking out more than the other simple ones.

“It was my mom’s. It was the first piece of jewelry my dad got her. I’ve been obsessed with it since I was little, always stole it, so she just gave it to me one day.” Harry smiled, knowing the feeling of stealing loved ones’ things and wanting to claim them as his own. She had also looked at his, both complementing the metals and jewels.

Her drink came to the bar and Harry had ordered a drink for himself, both sitting on stools to enjoy their drinks with each other.  After ordering his drink and she began to sip on her limoncello, he knew he had to know more about her.

“You are a great performer. All of you are. I guess you weren’t wrong about the ‘Partridge Family’ comment.”

She had smiled as she was finishing her sip, “It’s not hard to be a musical family when you're surrounded by music.” Harry nodded in agreement. She was focused on her drink, running her finger around the rim of her glass.

“Ever since I was little, there was always music. Dad owns a studio, mom used to write for a music magazine, and now books about musicians. Justin is a manager for bands like fucking Metallica. Michael is a composer for movie soundtracks and used to work in orchestras for Broadway, that’s how he met Dean.” She finally looked at Harry again, tilting her head like a cute puppy, “He’s a dancer.” She smiled and suggestively raised her eyebrows, making the both of them laugh.

“And you?”

She hummed, “What about me?”

“What do you do?”

“Well, my brothers had nicknamed me Jack.” Harry had looked at her curiously, the nickname nothing like her own. She giggled at his furrowed brow and confusion written all over his face.

“Jack of all trades, master of none. I have done a little bit of everything, but as of late, I have been lucky enough to be a freelance creative director.”

“Freelance?” She was in the middle of a sip when she hummed a ‘yes’, slowly turning so she was facing him more.

“I’ve been hired for music videos, photoshoots, fashion shows. I’ve even worked with a few of your people; Harry and Harris.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up, “No shit?” He turned his head slightly and thanked the bartender for the refilled glass. She had turned away from him and pulled out her phone, pulling up her photos to show Harry some pictures of her with Lambert and Harris. She even showed him some of her work, quick to pass over sketches she had done, though he could see that she was also talented in her art.

“So you do a little bit of everything and you're good at it. I would say that you have mastered a lot of talents, Bianca.”

This was the first time tonight that he had seen her flush. It could be the limoncello, but he will keep thinking that it was his compliment. She breathed a soft ‘thank you’ as she put her phone away.

She had heard the call of her name, looking over to the dance floor where her sister-in-law had been motioning for her to join. Her two nephews ran over to grab both of her hands to drag her to dance with the rest of her family to one of the most well-known Whitney Houston songs. She threw an apologetic look over to Harry before joining her clan.

Harry watched on from the bar, seeing this alluring woman swaying with her youngest nephew while belting out lyrics with all the other bodies on the dance floor. Harry couldn’t help but yearn to know everything about the D’Angelo who has caught all of his attention.

October 4, 2018

The sky was still in a hazy pink as Harry, Kid, and Mitch walked from Harry’s car to enter Shangri-La. The air surrounding them filled with the salt of the ocean and that heavyweight of heat, moving from one air-conditioned place to the next.

The house was clean and pristine when the boys entered, Don already in the kitchen, setting up the catered breakfast and coffee maker. Don looked to the door as it opened, smiling and wishing the boys ‘good morning’ as he quickly went to wash his hands to give everyone a proper greeting. Don encouraged the boys to make themselves their plates of food and guided them to the studio for them to make themselves home.

Harry was eating some vegan bacon as he followed Don. Upon entering the studio, he saw the back of a girl in overalls and a tie-dyed t-shirt, with her dark messy hair sitting at the top of her head. She was sitting at the piano but Harry could hear no sound.

“My bambina loves to warm up the instruments before they are used to record.” Don pressed the button to allow the sweet melody to melt into the sound room.

The men could hear the melodic piano and a voice that Harry has come to love, even after one blessed encounter.

“You've taken my love, and now desert me.”

Bianca continued to do Freddie Mercury justice as her fingers toyed over the keys, vocalizing the guitar melody as she crescendoed the arrangement before softly vocalizing the final verse. Harry watched as her delicate fingers moved up the keyboard to finish off the song.

“Bellissima, bambina!”

Bianca turned to look at her father, smiling until she saw the three other gentlemen standing beside him. Two of the men continued to eat while one, Harry, was looking right at her, smiling just as big as her father.

“Uh, thanks. I’m done in here, it’s all yours.”

She was quick to stand up and pick up her tattered high-top Chucks, padding out of the room. She was sure to give her dad a kiss and avoided eye contact with everyone else. She made her way to the kitchen to put her shoes on and leave.

When Harry walked out to say hello to her and put his plate in the sink, she was already gone. Harry took the opportunity to look around the kitchen to see that there was a margarita maker. Quick to make his way into the sound room, Harry asked if it was too early for a margarita, to which the room responded with a mixture of ‘no’s’ and ‘never’s’.

More people from Harry’s and Don’s teams began to filter in, enjoying margaritas and partaking in eating some chocolate-covered mushrooms that someone happened to have brought, to help with creativity.

Bianca offered to pick up the catering for the team’s dinner and started to walk the trays into the house. Everyone had been outside, enjoying the last minutes of sun for the day, as well as the joint being passed between bodies. Harry saw her through the window, putting a few trays on the counter.

Harry decided to make his way into the kitchen, though decided to take the unorthodox route of using the window, tripping over the lip of the windowsill, landing face-first onto the kitchen floor.

“Jesus Christ, Harry! You alright?!”

She was quick to make her way over to him to help him up. He sat on the floor for a second and began to laugh. As he opened his mouth, blood started to drip down his chin.

“Fuck, Harry! You’re bleeding!”

Bianca got up quickly to get a dish towel and wet it while Harry continued to giggle on the floor, reaching his hand for his chin and it quickly filled with red. She knelt between his legs on her knees while holding his chin up so that she could wipe it with the wet towel.

“Do you mind if I look in your mouth?”

“You can do whatever you want with my mouth…”

Both froze and while Harry’s eyes went wide, Bianca raised her brows and snorted at his comment.

“Feeling good, I see? I just want to make sure you didn’t knock out any teeth.”

Harry gave a quick nod and allowed her to look into his mouth. She tsked at him as she continued to wipe his mouth.

“You bit your tongue pretty bad. Let me get you some ice.”

She was quick to get a clean towel and fill it with ice, brushing her loose strands of hair out of her face as she kneeled back down in front of him. He continued to sit with his tongue out, making her giggle as she rested the towel on his wound.

She shook her head as he was looking at all of the features on her face, reminding himself how warm her brown eyes are, the soft barely there freckles on the bridge of her nose. The zit that she tried to hide with makeup on her chin, the scar in her right brow that you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t this close. He could see the hole where a piercing used to be on the left side of her lip, how she had just put chapstick on her lips from how slick they looked.

“You okay here while I get the rest of the food from my Jeep?”

Harry slowly nodded while in his trippy daze mixture from the drugs and her beauty, he gently took the towel from her hand and kept it on his wound. She finished bringing in the food as everyone made their way back inside, laughing at Harry’s child-like position on the floor.

Bianca waved and said goodbye to everyone, gave Don a kiss, and checked up on Harry one last time. Harry was quickly hit with inspiration and an itch to start recording.

October 7, 2018

Walking up and down the aisles of the wine and spirits store, Harry was feeling the prickles of anxiety in his chest as he was looking at the selection of red wines. He had felt the restlessness since he had been invited to the home of the D’Angelo’s for a Sunday dinner, even more so after being in the studio. He wanted to make a good impression as he decided to grab the overpriced bottle of Sangiovese.

As he left with the bottle in hand, he had stopped at the flower shop across the street on the way to his car, deciding on a primarily yellow bouquet. The bouquet had called for him as his figures graced the petals. When walking to his car, he looked at the flowers and he couldn’t help but wonder why he had picked this specific bundle.

Showing up at the D’Angelo’s earlier than they had told him to arrive, Harry had made sure to have both the wine and bouquet in hand. He had taken his time to approach the door, more nervous than he has been in a while. He lifted his hand to rap on the door and before his knuckles made contact, the door flew open and Bianca walked right into his chest.

Both let out a noise at the impact but she began to laugh hysterically before profusely apologizing. Her mother was quick on her heels on the way out the door, asking both of the young adults if they were okay.

Harry gave a soft smile, confirming that he was okay before Bianca gave the excuse that she is ‘always in a hurry’. Ellie was quick to grab her daughter’s hand to pull her along with her, pointing in the direction of Don in the living room.

“We’ll be back sweetie, just need to pop by the store to pick up some things for dinner.” Ellie kissed his cheek as she and Bianca walked to the car. Bianca gave a little wave with a beaming smile, apologizing again for her clumsiness.

Don had called out to Harry from the couch as Harry was watching the girls cruise down the driveway. He got himself out of his daze, following the sound of Don’s voice, closing the door behind him. Don stood up from his spot to greet Harry in the entryway, shaking his hand after he moved his host gifts to his left hand and pulled him in for a hug.

Harry presented the flowers and wine to Don who was quick to rain his praises on the “wonderful taste” Harry had. After putting the flowers in a vase in the center of the family dining table and popping the wine into the wine chiller in the kitchen, Don guided the young man into the living room where a family movie had been paused on the screen.

“I always wait until I'm home alone to watch this video; I get emotional and the famiglia gets embarrassed.” Don gave a deep chuckle as he pressed play.

It was well edited with music playing over montages of a young couple’s romance, time at the beach, ever-growing love. Moments of pregnant Ellie and children slowly made appearances as the video continued. There were scenes of conversations in Italian that Harry could understand just slightly, causing him to laugh at Ellie's awful accent that Don made fun of as he rubbed her swollen belly while talking about, “la nostra piccola bambina”.

It transitioned from a couple’s home videos to a compilation of moments with the whole D’Angelo family. It comprised scenes of family vacations and Sunday dinners, moments where the young D'Angelo's speaking Italian, better than their mother. There were cutaways of all of the children playing and running around, laughing. Harry couldn’t help but smile seeing scenes of Justin on Don’s lap, sitting behind a drum set, Michael helping Ellie make pasta with flour all over his hands and cheeks.

Then he saw a very young Bianca standing in the living room with an ankle-length Little Mermaid nightgown, swaying back and forth while watching Grease play on the screen of the television. Don couldn’t help but beam at his little girl singing Hopelessly Devoted along with Olivia Newton-John, flawlessly at the age of four.

“My bambina, always the singer. Was singing before she could babble.”

Harry’s smile grew as well, especially when the little girl on the screen with mussy hair in her face stopped her swaying when the song ended and turned to give a shy smile to the camera her father was holding.

More scenes of the younger D’Angelo’s showing their musical talents; recitals, musicals, and plays. Harry could see that Bianca was quite the actress, even when she was playing the lead as a zookeeper for the Kindergarten production on animals.

Another moment where it was strictly Bianca had started, her walking out onto a stage towards a piano dressed in a sparkly red semi-formal dress, sitting behind the keys of the piano, and kicking off her ballet flats. The loud chords of It’s All Coming Back to Me were played expertly by a Bianca that could not have been more than sixteen. Her beautiful voice rang out as she emotionally sang out the lyrics.

The door had opened when a giggly Bianca and Ellie carried multiple bags. Bianca was quick to stop in her tracks when she saw the video on the television.

“Dad! Turn that off! Harry doesn’t need to see that, for fucks sakes!”

Don laughed out and leaned closer to Harry, “Told you they are embarrassed.” Don quickly turned off the video before both he and Harry stood up to help the girls with the bags of groceries. Ellie had pointed out the flowers in the center of the table, thanking Harry and kissing his cheek.

Bianca was pulling out ingredients from the reusable bag in front of her, separating by recipe. Harry was helping with a bag next to her, holding up each item for Bianca to guide him where they were to be set.

“Have you ever made homemade pasta, sweetie?” Ellie was popping an olive in her mouth as she was setting up some snacks on the table for people as they arrived, looking to Harry for a response.

“Uh, no, I haven’t. I would love to learn though.”

“Bianca is a great teacher! She can show you how to make linguini for a veggie dish we are making for you.”

Bianca was giving her mother a blunted look as she pulled the ingredients for the spinach and sun-dried tomato linguini towards her. She smiled at Harry before she took all of her rings off, indicating Harry followed suit.

She washed her hands and left the water on for Harry, grabbing the flour and eggs to place on the island. She cleaned off the service and grabbed the measuring cups to put two equal piles of flour on the counter.

“This is going to get messy, do you want an apron?”

Harry shook his head as he watched Bianca make a well in the center of her flour. Harry was quick to copy her movements, making a matching well in his flour mound. Bianca handed him four eggs before grabbing her own, cracking an egg, and pouring out the contents with one hand.

“How do you do that? I’d probably get shells everywhere.”

She had giggled, “Lots of practice, but I can show you.” She took an egg in her hand to show the motions. “First you crack it like you normally would, maybe a little harder to make sure the crack is deep. Then, stick your thumb in between the shells, using your nail. Your pointer and your middle finger will pull the top open with the help of your thumb, while your ring and pinky will pull with the help of your palm and then woop, out pops the egg.”

Harry followed the instructions, though a little slower and gentle as to not squeeze the shell too tight. Bianca moved closer to make sure Harry had a clean egg and sure enough, the perfect, shell-free egg fell next to the one he had cracked previously.

“There you go, a quick learner.” She looked up at him smiling before moving back to her station, finishing her cracking, and started to fork the eggs in the flour. Harry mimicked her motions until he saw her start moving flour into the center with her fingers. He watched as her hands became covered in flour, kneading the now developed dough.

Bianca talked Harry through the process as she continued to knead her dough. Harry continued his motions as she washed her hands to wrap the dough in plastic wrap to let it rest. She also wrapped Harry’s as he washed his hands. Don pulled down the pasta roller for them to use when the time was ready, kissing the top of Bianca’s head before grabbing a bottle of wine for the four of them to enjoy and turning on some music.

Come and Get Your Love by Redbone began to play through the house as Don popped open the bottle Harry had gifted and Ellie started dancing around the table as she set it for ten.

Everyone was quick to start singing the lyrics to the upbeat, feel-good song. Don grabbed Bianca to twirl her into a fit of giggles as she worked at the stove on sauces. Harry moved to Ellie to help her set the table and she bumped her hip to his while continuing her swaying.

The door had opened with Dean and Michael walking in, quickly transitioning to dancing into the kitchen. Dean had another bottle of wine in one hand and a paper bag in the other, pulling out the freshly baked bread as he kissed Bianca’s cheek.

Michael was quick to move to his mother, kissing her cheek, and wrapping his arms around her, as he embraced her while simultaneously dancing and singing. Ellie beamed as she held her son’s cheeks, “Come and get your love!”

Both made their way around the room, hugging and kissing everyone, Harry included. Dean went around and topped off everyone’s wine glass as he poured himself and Michael each a glass as well.

Christine and Justin walked in, followed by their sons, Dylan and Matthew, who ran right to their aunt. Bianca hugged and kissed them, helping them get their stools to be her sous chefs.

Harry went with the flow of the family, helping where he was needed and was fully immersed in the D’Angelo Sunday Dinner tradition. He felt truly welcomed by the family, able to be himself fully.

The Shoop Shoop Song began to play and Bianca let out an audible gasp, quick to join Cher in singing the song. Ellie made her way to her daughter, singing and dancing, both with massive smiles. Harry continued to sip his wine while watching the two women lose themselves to the song.

“She loves Cher. Probably her favorite artist.” Michael stood next to Harry while munching on bruschetta, dusting off his hands before grabbing his wine glass.

“Cher is great.” Harry also grabbed an appetizer, popping it in his mouth.

“Jack is great too. Bianca, I mean.”

Harry smiled, “She told me of the nickname, clever.”

Michael smiled as Justin had joined them, “She is also bambina, or bumblebee if you ask Michael.” Justin joined in on the snacking while Michael nudged Justin’s shoulder.

“Bumblebee?”

“Michael couldn’t say bambina when he was little, thinking it was Bianca’s name, so he always called her bumblebee.”

Harry looked back to the girls, Christine having joined in, now dancing to Marvin Gaye, focusing on Bianca, thinking that bumblebee is a very fitting nickname for the girl.

Everyone had finished their part of the dinner, making many pasta dishes, multiple portions of meat and enough vegetable-focused dishes to make any vegetarian happy.

“Bianca wanted to make sure you had lots of options, sweetie. Don had said that you're vegetarian.”

Harry nodded, taking a bite of one of the many delicious dishes in front of him. “I am, and thank you so much. Most people aren’t as accommodating.”

“Of course, you’re a guest.” Bianca smiled across the table, taking a sip of her limoncello over ice.

“You’re part of the family, Harry.” Don had said as he lifted his wine glass, the rest of the D’Angelo family raising their glasses and voicing their agreement.

October 26, 2018

“Dad! Stop moving! I’m going to mess up!”

Ellie had been giggling from the bathroom as she was pinning her wig on. She looked to her husband, who was sitting at her vanity while their daughter was painting the signature Ziggy Stardust lightning bolt across her father’s freshly shaven face. He had been claiming the brush was tickling him, causing him to squirm and to annoy his bambina.

Bianca let out a frustrated sigh as she swung her extensions behind her shoulders and adjusted the sequined bikini halter before leaning back in with the brush and red paint. After she had finally finished her paint job, she ran a brush through her long, straight hair before adjusting her sequined two-piece Cher costume designed by the one and only Harris Reed.

Don allowed Ellie to help put on his Ziggy Stardust wig after she threw on her leather jacket for her Debbie Harry costume.

The three had left the bedroom to meet Dean in his Purple Rain Prince costume and Michael in his Live Aid Freddie Mercury costume. They met in the kitchen for a cocktail before they made their way to the Casamigos Halloween Party.

The clan had all arrived together, the flashing of cameras began as they exited the car and made their way into the venue. They could hear their names called in every direction, always polite as they smiled and waved to the photographers.

It wasn’t long until all of the attention was off of the D’Angelos and on to who would be the talk of the night with his custom Gucci, Elton John Dodger costume, with large funky glasses and all the glitter in the world.

Bianca accidentally ran into her mother due to the distraction, Ellie quickly looked at what had caught her youngest’s eyes. Ellie began to smile when she saw her daughter in shock and Harry mimicking her expression back. She pulled on her husband's jumpsuit sleeve, showing him the two in awe.

Don’s smile matched his wife’s. “Giovane amore.”

Each person went off to venture around the venue, catching up with old friends and colleagues. Harry once again found Bianca standing at the bar, waiting for a drink. This time, he was the one to start the conversation.

“What will Cher be having tonight?” He leaned on the bar, facing the girl beaming at him as she ‘Cher swung’ her hair over her shoulder.

“Whatever Sir Elton John will be having.” Harry returned the smile and ordered them each a Paloma. They sipped on the tart drinks while catching up, since they haven’t seen each other since Sunday dinner.

“Your costume is phenomenal Harry. You would think you stole it right from Elton himself.”

“Thank you. Gucci always treats me well. Could say the same for your perfect Cher costume. Walked right off the Sonny and Cher Show set.”

“Thank you, but you should thank Harris.”

Harry had checked out the outfit for the hundredth time that night, “Leave it to Harris to do Cher justice. Honestly, though, don’t think anyone could wear that outfit as well as you and Cher herself.”

Harry loved to see the blush that had crept to her cheeks, his vision moving to her lips to watch her smile mold around the rim of the glass to take a drink. He looked back to her eyes as she moved her long hair again.

She cleared her throat, “Are you having fun? Enjoying the party?”

“More fun now that I’m at the bar with you. Tired of getting pulled to take pictures with everyone.”

“Yeah, that must be annoying. Can’t enjoy anything for yourself.”

“I’m enjoying this though.” Again, Harry was proud of her blush. “I would love to take a picture with you though. Would make sense since Elton and Cher are friends and all.” He raised his brows with a shrug of his shoulders.

“You want to take a selfie with me, Harry?”

“It would be my favorite picture of the night.”

“Alright.” She adjusted the high-waisted sequin bell-bottoms as well as the halter before moving her hair so that Harry could comfortably wrap his arm around her waist. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder comfortably, being his height in her heels. Harry pulled out his phone and took a few shots, one including him kissing her cheek.

“I could send these to you, but I don’t have your number.”

Bianca gave a playful scowl but quickly gave him her phone number and received the pictures. She reviewed them, smiling at her phone.

“These are great.”

Harry couldn’t help his grin, though it was interrupted by the call of his name. Harry internally groaned, not wanting to be taken away from Bianca but his mood changed when he saw Ziggy Stardust walk toward him. Harry let out a laugh at the slightly inebriated Don.

“You look great H!”

“So do you, Don.” Harry let Don embrace him before he wrapped himself around his daughter. He began to slur in Italian, so it was hard for Harry to eves-drop. Harry knew he was talking about him when he heard his name and both were smiling in his direction.

“Dad wants to know if you would like to join us for some midnight greasy food.”

Don started mumbling again, though this time, Harry could understand Don’s dire need for a bacon cheeseburger. Harry finished his drink and followed the family to the diner down the street.

All dressed in their rock-star attire, they were the life of the party at the diner. All the staff came out to take a look, even asking to take some pictures. They even took a group picture for the crew to have as a keepsake.

Bianca had noticed how a group of girls in the corner were in fits of giggles and constantly had their phones out. Harry had been facing them as well, keeping his head down and sipping a milkshake to avoid his face from being in the pictures. Michael had been sitting across from her, obnoxiously laughing at Don’s animalistic ingestion of his greasy burger.

Bianca nudged his leg under the table to get his attention, to which he looked up, “What’s up, Jack?”

“Switch seats with Harry.” She nodded her head inconspicuously to the group in the booth, to which Micheal had turned to kiss Dean on the cheek to take a quick look. He was quick to get up and rub Harry’s shoulder to indicate for them to switch.

Once Harry was sat across from Bianca, he fully joined the group in conversation and contentment. He looked at her and she was already looking at him smiling. He mouthed a ‘thank you’ and she nodded in return.

December 18, 2018

After spending the day with his family, helping his mother with the holiday baking, Harry was happy to be in his London abode, able to relax for the night. He changed into his most comfortable sweatpants and most tattered t-shirt and clipped his hair from his face before settling on the couch with a holiday movie playing in the background.

He pulled out his phone to catch up on his emails and social media, seeing his friends and family enjoying holiday festivities. Harry saw that Don had started a live video on Instagram, so he decided to watch what the D’Angelo family were doing for the holidays.

To no surprise, there was music playing in the background while the family was surrounded by food and wine. Don was walking around, loving on each family member and encouraging them to chat to the live stream.

Harry’s heart rate had increased when he heard Don call for ‘bambina’, who appeared to be holding a baby.

“Who do we have here, bambina?”

Bianca was beaming down at the little bundle in her arms who was sound asleep.

“Meet the new D’Angelo; this is Ms. Adeline.”

Michael was sitting next to his sister, looking down lovingly at the tiny girl in her arms.

“And who is Ms. Adeline?”

Michael turned to look at his father who was holding his phone, filming the moment.

“She is Dean’s and my new daughter.”

Harry watched on as the family loved the new member until the video ended. He had decided to check out Don’s Instagram page, seeing pictures and videos of his family and the bands he had worked with while they were in the studio.

He had scrolled back towards the beginning of the year, seeing a still of a video of a young Bianca running in with a guitar the size of her. Harry stayed on the frame and let the video play.

“Daddy! Daddy! Look what Michael taught me!”

She sat on the floor with the guitar covering most of her frame, her head poking out, and her little hands forming around the neck of the instrument. She watched as her fingers formed chords, strumming slowly.

“Moon river, wider than a mile. I’m crossing you in style, someday.”

The video had ended and Harry saw that there was a second video to the post. He slid his finger over to watch an adult Bianca continue to sing Moon River expertly while sitting in a window, similar to Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. She smiled at the camera as the song and video ended.

Harry read the caption to the video.

Happy 25th birthday, bambina. So proud of the woman you’ve become. 💛

Harry unconsciously clicked on her tagged name and went to her Instagram page. He scrolled through seeing selfies, pictures with friends, and even videos of her doing covers of songs.

The most recent video was posted right before the anniversary party. She was sitting at the piano, the angle was a view of her side-profile with a beach behind her through the window. The sun was shining, casting a shadow over her in the black and white video. Bianca was performing a heartbreaking rendition of Silver Springs by Fleetwood Mac, putting all of her emotions into the climax of the song, belting out so that you could hear the echo of her voice throughout the house she was in.

Harry browsed the family and foodie pictures, admiring how effortlessly happy she had appeared the summer of 2018.

Another video had started to play of Dean and Bianca in their loungewear and socks, drunkenly giggled with Bruno Mars playing in the background. They made their way to the middle of the screen and effortlessly danced the dance break of Finesse that was performed at The Grammys that year. He giggled when at the end of the dance, Bianca jumped into Dean’s arms screaming because they had perfected the dance.

Harry continued to peruse her Instagram page. He couldn’t recall how far back he had gone, but he had paused on a picture of Bianca in a mirror selfie with Harris, wearing the sparkly purple shirt Harry wore in Vancouver. He read the caption, “When working with friends, you become a model.”

There were more pictures of Bianca with Harris as well as pictures of her with Lambert on sets of shoots. Pictures of different cities from travel were more frequent. Then, there was a video that Harry had watched more times he could count.

Bianca had been sitting at a studio piano, in a different location than other videos of her performing she had posted more recently. She even appeared a little younger and fresh faced with a natural glow. He could see a few windows in the background open, the sounds of a city as background noise.

“I know this song just came out, but I’m so obsessed that I couldn’t help myself from learning it as fast as I could.”

She began to play Sign of the Times flawlessly, belting out the lyrics and occasionally adding her own flair that Harry couldn’t help but melt at. He knew that he had to have this person in his life the moment her child-like smile shined to the camera.

Harry watched it one last time before he pulled up her contact, the picture of them from Halloween as her contact photo. He pressed the call button and put the phone to his ear.

“Well, hello Harry. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Would you like a permanent job working with me and my team as our creative director?”

There was a pause on the other line and Harry thought that he made a mistake.

“I would love that.”

Here she is! I have to say, working over a year in the plot (that is still changing daily) has made me so damn proud of this fic. I cannot wait to see what everyone has to say and if people love this fic as much as I do.

I have to give the biggest and most loving thank you to @mysweetcreaturestories for working on the plot and inspiring me to write the fic, to @harrysgoldenbum and @for-fucks-sake-h for being the most amazing betas and helping me through out this whole thing, and @nattalina-shop for making the most beautiful header that I could have dreamed of. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!

Please feel free to drop me an ask, tell me your thoughts, ask me questions, whatever your heart’s desires.

[plan3tlvrs]

Pinky

Summary⛧ eren a underground mafia leader visits a strip club with his friends.

Contains ⛧ 18+, nsfw, oral sex, (male and female receiving), riding, mentions of spit, gagging, face fucking, spanking, car sex, modern au 

2.k+ words

⛧ x fem!reader

⛧ mafia eren

A/n⛧ this is my first post so I hope you all enjoy and feel free to leave request.

Saturday night’s was when the club you worked at got the most customers; it was called the Pinky. You’ve worked there for almost two years now, first starting when you were a sophomore in college. Of course, you needed the money to pay for your tuition fast and debt free as your college days were ending and you were soon to be graduating. 

You landed this job with a friend that you met in college. Her name was Jenny. You didn’t think you would qualify for the job, but somehow Jenny worked her way around the requirements and here you are almost two years later. 

The club was lit up with different colored LED lights, mainly pink obviously. 

"Hey I need you at table ten in about five minutes" Rick, your manager, spoke to you through the mirror with a clipboard in his hands. 

You nodded and adjusted your outfit so you wouldn’t be uncomfortable all night. It was packed and you knew it by the sound of the crowd outside the dressing room door. You could see the strobe of the lights peeking from under the door as people passed by. 

Ruffling your hair in the mirror, you checked yourself once more and made your way out of the dressing room. Heels clicking on the floor as you surf through the crowd of people and make your way to the bar and pick up your notepad and pen. 

"Yo _____ did Rick tell you about table ten?" Jenny yelled over the music while sitting at the bar. She was on one of her many breaks of the night. 

She rarely did anything but somehow still managed to make money. 

"Not really, he just told me he needed me there in ten minutes" You looked at your phone before shoving it back in your pocket "well now two". 

Jenny laughed a little before putting her drink down. "You see those group of guys in the booth over there" 

You looked over at the booth and saw four men seated in all black from head to toe. They all had some type of expensive jewelry on, as you could tell from the watches, rings and chains they had, including some of them having piercings. 

"Yeah, what about it?" 

"Well, I heard that they are part of the biggest underground mafia in the city. Apparently they come here often and tip big. That's why Rick is always quick to get someone to their booth." Jenny reached over the bar and poured another drink. 

You studied them more as she spoke about them. The one on the far right sported a mullet, with a slight scruff forming around his face. Next to him, the blond had somewhat of a bowl cut that surprisingly went well with his undercut. You could see his piercing blue eyes from where you were standing. The third person was a brunette with his hair in a low messy bun, with a few pieces falling around his face here and there. To you, he was the most attractive. The way he sat with his legs spread, not even bothering to care about the men seated around him, showed that he carried himself highly. And lastly, the one at the end had a buzz cut, his hair kind of shady gray. You don't know how he pulled it off, but somehow he did. 

"The one with the mullet is kind of cute don't you think?" Jenny spoke, snapping you out of your trance.

"Eh I'm leaning towards the one with the bun" You placed your hand on your hip before looking at the clock above the shot glasses. "Shit" You hissed, turning back to Jenny, "I gotta go. I'll catch up with you later tonight?" 

Jenny dragged, obviously a little tipsy, "Yeah girl, go make that money."

Laughing, you walked away and, to your utter surprise, the table Rick had assigned you to wait at was in fact the so-called mafia gang Jenny was babbling about. 

"Good evening gentleman, can I get a few drinks started for you?" Taking out your notepad and pen, you looked at the men scanning them as they all stopped talking. 

The brunette with the man bun stared at you harshly with his green orbs before he spoke, his voice taking you back a bit. 

"Yeah, I'll take you and a round of vodka shots for me and my boys," the brunette smirked, looking around at his friends as they all let out small laughs. 

"Okay, vodka shots and some manners coming right up," you scribbled on your notepad as you returned your gaze to the brunette.

By now, his friends were astonished at your response and found themselves bursting into laughter as if it was the funniest thing on the planet. 

"Damn Eren, she really got you didn’t she" The one with the buzz cut said, slapping his hand on the brunette's shoulder. 

"I'm not gonna lie Eren, she's got sass. "The one with the brown mullet said, leaning back into the booth more. 

"Shut it horse face you too baldie," Eren said sternly, and the two men immediately straightened up.

"Tch" you said before walking away to retrieve their shots.

Eren watched you walk back as your hips moved with ease and your thighs rubbed together against the skimpy uniform shorts you wore. He could feel himself tighten up in his lower region. 

"Alright, a round of vodka shots will that be all for now?" As you leaned down to place the tray of shots on the table, your deep cleavage was visible as you leaned back up.

"Actually, I would like a dance" Eren spoke up, looking at you. 

"Sure, I'll go get someone for you. Just give me a sec" Before you could walk away, Eren spoke again. 

He leaned up from the booth, resting his elbows on the table with both of his fists under his chin.

"No from you" he said, looking you in the eyes. 

"Sorry pretty boy, I'm just the waiter" you said, picking up the tray of now empty shots. 

"I'll pay you name your price," Eren said before you walked away.

He just doesn't stop does he? 

"I don’t need your money" You turned your heels to make your way back to the bar. 

"Ten grand take it or leave it" 

You swear your heart stopped beating for another ten grand? That was more than you made here at night. That was more money than you made in a week, and you could really use it. You stood there deep in thought before making your decision. 

"Fine, but it can't be here. I could get fired" 

Eren smirked widely "That’s fine with me baby. My car is just out back when your shift is over. Meet me out there yeah?" He leaned back and continued a conversation with his friends who couldn't believe what had just happened. 

You waited tables and helped the bartender all night. Sometimes you would catch a glance of Eren staring at you with a hard gaze as you chatted up with people in the crowd which was made up of manly men. 

Eren had seen you talking to another group of guys laughing at something the raven haired man had said. For some odd reason, it made his blood boil like tea in a kettle. He was watching you the whole night and you knew it. Just by your body language, he could tell that you knew his eyes were on you every step you took. 

"Dude, you gotta stop staring at her like that it’s becoming creepy" The one with the buzz cut spoke. 

"Connie I'm not being creepy, I'm just observing" 

"Jean tell Eren he’s being weird," Connie said, rolling her eyes. 

"Is he being weird or creepy? "Pick one, Connie," the blond said, picking up a shot glass.

"Oh shut it Armin" Connie said harshly, leaning back into the booth. 

"Well, he is being kind of weird but-" The one with the mullet spoke after downing what was his sixth shot. 

"Thank you! Jean "Connie exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. 

"I wasn't finished Connie" Jean said, looking at him. "What I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted was that it seems like Eren here has the hots for her already" 

By 2am you were in the backseat of Eren's car with his cock shoved down your throat. You didn’t know how a lap dance could turn into this, but it did. 

"Fuck yes just like that" Eren kept his hand on your head tangled in your hair as you bobbed your head up against his length.

Eren was bigger than most guys you had been with, but you weren't complaining as he shoved himself down your throat more and more with the push of his hips, lifting him lightly off the seat. You pushed your head as far as you could take him, your nose meeting the top of his stomach. He was seriously toned and had strong abs along his stomach. You gagged around him slightly as spit formed around your mouth and dripped down his shaft to his thighs. 

"You're taking me so well baby yes" Eren praised you as his eyes stayed on yours. 

Looking up at him, you could see that the bun he had on his head was falling out as sweat formed around the baby hair on his forehead. He looked so good above you like that as he smirked, catching you in a starry gaze with his dick in your mouth.  

He pulled you from his length, a trail of spit connecting you to his head. 

"Lay down" Eren ushered

Eren was already removing your skimpy shorts as you lay in the back seat.

"Watching you walk around all night in these made me want to ruin you even more," he said as he stroked your thighs.

"Yeah?" you inquired.

"Yeah" His voice was raspy as he grinned at you.

"Do it" you said eagerly. 

"Be careful what you wish for princess" 

Eren toyed with the hem of your panties, staring down at your aroused cunt, seeing it clench at nothing. He took his thumb and ran it over the material circling around your clit as you squirmed for more. 

"Fuck" 

"Use your words baby, tell me what you want," Eren said as he continued his actions. 

"Please" You squeaked 

"Please what" 

"Please fuck me" You pleaded with your eyes wide. 

"Don’t worry, I planned on it" 

Eren pulled your panties off as the hot air of the car hit your cunt. Bending his head down, he placed a soft kiss on your bud, trailing it down to your hole. Licking from the entrance to the top, he gripped your thighs in his hands, working his tongue at a fast pace, taking some time out to even suck on your clit. 

You were a moaning mess, your head pressed against the backseat window of his Mercedes. The windows were fogged up all over and there was a strong odor of sex in the air, but that didn't bother you. You could care less about getting caught by the club security guard. The thought of getting caught made you want to continue even more. 

Eren let go of your right thigh and reached for your soaking cunt, which was mixed with your slick and the spit from his mouth in one. Trailing his two fingers around your hole, he collected your juices before bringing them to your lips. 

"Open" He spoke slowly. 

You opened your mouth, allowing him to push his fingers inside, swirling your tongue around the tips before going all the way down to his knuckles. You could taste the sweetness of your cunt on the tips of his fingers. 

He watched you with lazy eyes and a smirk, grunting "fuck you look so hot right now". 

Eren pulled his finger out of your mouth, trailing them back down to your pussy before entering the two digits. His fingers began to move at a steady pace before you urged him on with your moans. As you grabbed the handle bar above the window to keep yourself from collapsing, his fingers hit the perfect spot.

He was so good with his fingers, the way he would move them against your walls. You couldn’t wait to feel the rest of him inside you. 

"Eren I'm gonna-" You let out a panted breath as he latched his mouth to your clit once again, flicking his tongue as his fingers continued their work. 

"Hold it," Eren said before pushing his fingers knuckle deep inside of you, hitting your g-spot every time.

Your legs shook as he held your left thigh in his hand and your right thigh over his shoulder, preventing you from closing your legs. Placing a hand on top of his head, pushing his hair from his face. He looked like a Greek god from below, those green irises glistening in the moon light that peaked through the fog of the window. You could hear the music from the club still going on and people walking through the parking lot. 

"Fuck Eren, I'm gonna cum right there" Your hands gripped his hair tightly as he let out a groan. 

"Your gonna cum all right, all over my dick now come here" Eren separated himself from your pussy by grabbing you by the hips and squeezing you into his lap.

Hands went behind his head to grip the back of the seat. Eren teased the tip of his cock against your slick folds, getting it wet with your arousal before pushing the tip in bit by bit. You shuttered above him, eagerly waiting for him to enter you fully. 

"Stop teasing" you said, looking him in his eyes. 

"You sure you can take it?" 

He grinned as you nodded your head, quickly placing his hands on your hips, he slammed your hips down. Letting out a wincing moan at how big he was inside of you, his tip kissing your cervix. Eren started guiding your hips in a back and forth movement after letting you adjust to his size. He was long and thick, splitting your walls perfectly. 

You moved your hips at a steady pace while leaning your face in the crook of his neck, kissing him softly and nipping at the skin. You wanted him to remember how he ruined you in the back of his car for the next week. You wanted him to constantly think about how he fucked you into oblivion. 

"Good girl, you're taking me so well, darling," Eren grunted, lowering his hands to your groin and gripping the flesh with both hands. He gave it a few slaps as he started to go faster with each one. They left his large hand to bring in red markings.

Of course, he had fucked many girls before, but you were his favorite by far. Your attitude made him want to have you even more. He wanted to teach you a lesson. 

Eren stopped your hips and lifted you up slightly. 

"Let me do some work," he said before ramming his hip into you at a fast pace. 

Your mouth hung open and jaw slack as he fucked you into next year. Eyes rolling into the back of your head and tears forming at the ends of your eyes. 

"Shit shit shit right there don’t stop" Your hand reached up to grab your breasts, which were still hidden beneath your bra.

You detached your hands from around the seat and around your back to take off your bra as he fucked you into the roof of the car your head almost hitting the ceiling. Eren took your naked breast into his mouth while looking up at you as if he was innocent. Eyelashes fanning against the skin as his hips continued to meet your ass. 

"Yeah right there you like that don’t you?" "Use your words, baby," Eren grunted, jutting his pelvis into yours.

"I do, oh my god." Your hands wrapped around the base of his nape, holding onto it. 

Eren grabbed your neck making you look him in the eyes as he fucked you. Brining you down as your lips connected with each other’s molding perfectly. His tongue entered your mouth as your moans muffled.

His moans became staggered signaling that he was close to his own release.

A few strokes later, you felt the bubbly feeling in your stomach reappear again and your legs began to shake more than they already were. By now tears had streamed down your face and your mascara running. Eren smirked as he watched you cry, giddy with delight at seeing you gasp for him every time he jutted his length into your walls.

"I'm cumming" You spoke as your orgasm ripped through you like a blade. 

Legs shaking as Eren continued to fuck into you, pulling out at the last minute to release himself over your stomach. 

You rested your head on his shoulder and it was silent as you both tried to catch your breath. Rolling to the seat next to him, you sat sweaty and sticky with arousal. Looking to the side, Eren was doing the same but staring at you out the corner of his eye with a grin before speaking.

"So you want ten grand or are you gonna let me take you on a date?"

_________________________

[writemekpop]

Lost in Hollywood (Part 1) | Wong Yukhei (Lucas)

Pairing: Wong Yukhei (Lucas) x Reader

Summary: Your husband Lucas is trying to make it big in Hollywood. But you have a secret which might break you up for good…

Genre: Husband!Lucas, Actor!Lucas, Angst 

Word Count: 1.3k

Gif: @jungsungchans​

Part 1 ⭐️ | Part 2 | Part 3

You watched your husband of four years tuck in to his steak and chips. 

It was the most relaxed you’d seen him in days. If only you felt that calm. 

What you’d learned that morning had your nerves sparking like live wires. But you couldn’t tell Lucas. Not tonight. 

A smudge of barbecue sauce sat like a brushstroke on Lucas’s chin, but he was enjoying his food too much to notice. His entire focus was on savouring every bite. 

No wonder he was hungry; you'd been eating bread and butter for a week to afford this. But he was living in the moment. That was important, wasn’t it? 

Revealing your secret would relieve your stress, but what would it do to Lucas? Send him right over the edge, that’s what. 

You exhaled and tried to smile. It was your fourth wedding anniversary. Since moving to L.A., you hadn’t had a lot of reasons to celebrate.

You should have been sipping fine champagne and laughing recklessly at your good fortune. But fine champagne wasn’t your reality. 

Hollywood was to blame. 

If the city had welcomed Lucas with open arms instead of stinging punches, sharing your news wouldn't be so nerve-wracking. 

How you wished things would change for Lucas. Even with the voracious eating, he was the sexiest man in the restaurant. The sweetest too.

You couldn’t believe you were the lucky one he fell for all those years ago. 

The first time you saw Lucas was by your high school locker. You’d dropped your folder and were standing motionless as your papers drifted across the floor. 

Lucas was opening his locker a few down from yours, his firm teenage biceps flexing as he spun the dial. 

His dark hair fell across his eyes, and he brushed it aside before suddenly turning to you. All you saw was decadent caramel.  

Your heart hammered as he bent over to gather your papers. 

“I think these are yours,” he said, a smile lingering on his lips. 

You looked into his cocoa eyes, and your legs became jelly. “Thanks,” you said in a hoarse whisper. 

“You’re welcome. I’m Lucas.” 

“Y/n.” You gathered yourself. “You’re new here.” 

“I am. Maybe you can show me around after school.” 

That was six years ago. 

After four years of marriage and two kids, Lucas still made you want to jump into bed with him and never leave. 

That’s what got us into this predicament, you thought. 

Lucas swiped a napkin across his plump lips. “You’re not eating much, darlin’. Is your burger okay?”

“Yes! It’s good. Delicious,” you added, taking a quick bite to prove it. “I’m just enjoying this alone time with you.” 

“Me too. We need more nights out, don’t we?” 

“That would be nice,” you murmured. 

But that wasn’t going to happen. Oh dear. 

A wave of nausea rolled through your stomach. How long could you keep the news from him? 

A hopeful smile lit Lucas’s face. “I can’t wait for the day I can quit this damn bartending job. I swear, if I never have to make another martini, I’ll die a happy man.” 

“I want that for you too,” you said earnestly. “You work so hard for us. Maybe it’s time I got a job... I’m still good at drawing, I could look into jobs in graphic design?” 

Hmm. Your mind began gnawing at the possibility. Lucas wasn’t the only one who could make money. 

“You don’t have to, babe. You’re busy enough with the kids. Don’t add more to your plate.” 

Too late, anyway. Your mind travelled back to twelve hours ago. When you squatted on the cold bathroom floor and watched two blue lines appear on your pregnancy test. 

Baby Number Three. 

You’d never experienced pure joy and pure fear at the same time. Another baby! One more mouth to feed! 

Lucas lifted his glass, his smile straightening. “To you, Y/n. I love you more each day.” 

You touched your glass to his, eyes locked. You knew Lucas meant it with all his heart. That’s why you’d accepted his proposal at just eighteen.  

“I love you, too, Lucas Wong. And…” you added, confidence surging in your heart, “here’s to our babies.” 

You studied his face, searching for a glimmer of reassurance, anything. 

“To all of us.” 

You clinked glasses again, but Lucas quickly reached for his vibrating phone. 

He slid it from the pocket of his jeans and held it up. “I’ve gotta take this. It’s Gayathri.” 

You waved a hand at him. “Go on. It could be important.” 

Gayathri was his agent and his direct link to fame and fortune. 

It seemed like yesterday that you waved goodbye to your parents from Lucas’s blue Ford pickup truck. The backseat was filled with your worldly goods, and your hearts were filled with dreams. 

Lucas had been chasing his dream for four years now. Time had inhaled those years with virtually nothing to show for it. 

Oh, he’d worked as an extra in plenty of movies, but you’d come to learn that extra work was a long, dull stop on the road to nowhere. 

You remember when Lucas got his first proper role as a cop on Prison Break. You dusted off the bottle of wedding champagne and chilled it on ice. 

You were certain that was the night your daughter Mari had been conceived. 

And Teddy was born just seven months ago. Your angel boy with Lucas’s chocolate eyes. Goodness! The next child would arrive before Teddy was even two. 

You were already living paycheck to paycheck. If prospects didn’t change for you and Lucas soon, you’d be in deep trouble.  

An ugly thought slid into your mind. You weren’t the only guilty one - it took two to make a baby. 

Lucas strolled back in, and you smiled at the look on his face. 

“What did your agent say?” 

“Remember how I sent in my audition tape for Brooklyn Nine-Nine last Wednesday?” 

“How could I forget? I love that show!” You smiled. 

“Well, I thought nothing came from it, since a whole week had passed…” Despite Lucas’s efforts to hide his excitement, a silly grin clung to his face. “But I have a callback on Friday!”

Without warning, your eyes filled with tears. 

You tried to blink them back, but one was already blazing a trail down your cheek. Swiping it away, you smiled. “That’s amazing!” 

Lucas tilted his head and looked at you, his dark brows furrowed. “Why the tears, babe?” 

“They’re happy tears. I promise. It’s really good news.” 

He raised a brow. “I’m going to get this one for us, okay?” 

Lucas thought you’re crying because you were afraid he wouldn’t get the part. God, if only he knew what your real fears were… 

“I’m so proud of you, Lucas.” You lifted your hands, clasping them in front of you. “I’m just emotional because it’s our anniversary. And I love you – so much.” 

Lucas touched a hand to your cheek. “I would marry you again today.” 

“You too, baby.” 

Lucas smoothed one crumpled bill after another onto the plastic tray. You looked away; you didn’t need to see him cursing at the price. 

Laying his sexy gaze on you, he stepped from his chair and took your hand. 

“Since we’re already married, let’s skip right to the honeymoon.” He winked. 

Desire made your stomach flip as you rushed from the restaurant. 

In the taxi home, you kept your secret buried deep down as you pressed your mouth onto Lucas’s.

Everything would be fine, you reassured yourself. 

It had to be.

Read Part 2 here.

[fandoms-are-my-friends-1321]

I’m So Used to Being Broke

Okay so this is my first time writing for Oswald Cobblepot from Gotham, and it’s been a hot minute since I watched the show, so please bare with me. Compilation videos will get me through this or I’ll just rewatch the show, possibly both. Anyway, hope you all enjoy it! The song the fic is based on is Broke by Teddy Swims (I highly recommend it). As always gif and characters are not mine.

Description: Y/N knew Oswald ever since he worked for Fish Mooney, and they had a close bond from the start. When Oswald takes over, he makes sure to share his new found fortune with Y/N

Warnings: mentions of blood and beating a guy up, spoilers for Gotham, cursing in the song lyrics, if I missed anything please let me know

The sound of screams came from the back alley of Fish Mooney’s club. This was a normal occurrence. When Fish wanted something, she would get it no matter what it took. Even if that meant beating someone half to death.

Oswald simply stood by and held the umbrella above Fish Mooney’s head. That was his job; all he had to do was hold the umbrella. Oswald was looked down on at the club, mostly because others thought that he was weak compared to the rest of Fish’s crew. However, what goes up must come down at some point.

“Boy,” Fish shouted as she glared at Oswald, who having been distracted by the man kneeling on the ground in pain, no longer had the umbrella over Fish Mooney’s delicate hair.

“Sorry,” Oswald mumbled as he approached closer to Fish.

“If you let this hair go frizzy you will be,” Fish Mooney retorted as she looked at the other men. “Keep this guy warm.”

I’m so used to being broke, but not no more

Buying all the things I never could before

Y/N was cleaning glasses at the bar. They met Fish about two years ago, and Fish knew right away that Y/N would make a perfect bartender for her club. Now here they were, working long shifts and having to deal with annoying customers. Money was money though, and Y/N was grateful for the job. Y/N watched as Fish entered in from the back door.

“God, men are such idiots. At least I have someone here who understands how I really feel,” Fish said as she strutted towards the bar. Y/N knew exactly what kind of drink to make her.

Fish Mooney grabbed the glass between her expertly manicured nails and took a sip. She let out a content groan as the alcohol slid down her throat. “I knew this would be the perfect job for you, darling. You actually know how to make a decent drink.”

“Thank you, Ms. Mooney,” Y/N responded with a smile as she whiped down the oak wood of the bar with a cloth.

Like what the hell, top shelf

We gonna toast tonight to temporary wealth

“Please, just call me Fish. We are far past formalities, Y/N. You’re like the daughter I never had.”

Y/N was about to thank her, when a loud ruckus interrupted their conversation. Some of the other guys, including Butch Gilzean, thought it would be amusing to throw a few punches at Oswald. No matter how hard Oswald tried, he was no match for the stronger men. Butch landed a sharp blow that sent Oswald tumbling to the ground.

“Butch that’s enough,” Fish snapped as she leaned against the bar. Y/N ran over to where Oswald was and pulled him to his feet. They then led him over to the bar. Butch simply scoffed at them. “What? I was only having a little fun with Penguin here.”

“Don’t call me that,” Oswald sputtered as the blood from his nose dripped further down his face.

Y/N hated it when Butch or the others called Oswald Penguin. So what if he had a limp? Y/N found it adorable, and Oswald was super sweet in general. Y/N knew how much it bothered Oswald too, and after hearing that nickname spill from Butch’s mouth, it filled them with rage. “Why don’t you just shut your stupid trap and get out of here,” Y/N remarked as they glared daggers at Butch.

“Fine, come on Fish let’s go.”

Fish started to follow, but not before turning back towards Y/N. “Don’t stay to late, lovebirds. Please be sure to lock up before you leave, Y/N.” Fish sent a wink at the two before walking out the back door with Butch. Y/N’s face flushed as she grabbed some tissues from their purse. They placed their hand on the back of Oswald’s neck and cleaned the blood that was starting to harden under Oswald’s nose.

“You don’t have to be so nice to me. You could have just left with the others if you wanted,” Oswald said as his eyes remained on the floor. His pale cheeks however were dusted with a light blush at Y/N’s kind actions.

Y/N simply shook their head. “Those guys are idiots. The only person I care about is you. There, I think that’s the last of the blood.”

Y/N sat back up, and their eyes met with Oswald’s blue-green ones. They couldn’t help but smile. Oswald’s eyes reminded them of a grassy plain filled with streaks of blue wild flowers. They knew Fish had caught on to their crush, but Y/N couldn’t find the right time to tell Oswald how they felt.

Mama told me, “Baby save it,”

Knowing me I probably won’t

“If I get enough money saved up,” Y/N started, “I promise that I’ll get us out of this dump. We can start a new life, and be our own bosses.”

Oswald smiled at the thought. Starting a new life with the person he cared about? Nothing would make him happier. He too had feelings for Y/N, and was the only person in Gotham besides his mother that showed him an ounce of kindness and respect. He didn’t want to ruin that.

“Who knows, maybe our luck will turn around and we’ll have so much money we won’t know what to do with it,” Oswald laughed. Y/N joined in, and the two enjoyed a quick drink before closing up the club.

All this money in my pockets gotta go

I’m so used to being broke

——————————————————————————

The time did in fact come. Oswald had killed Fish Mooney, or at least to his knowledge assumed that she was dead. Oswald was shaken, and yet he had finally taken out one of the many people that treated him like crap. Oswald entered what used to be Fish’s club, but now it was all his.

No, it wasn’t just his. It was his and Y/N’s. Oswald pulled out his phone and dialed Y/N’s number. He rocked back and forth on his feet as she waited for them to answer.

“Hello? Is everything alright, Ozzie,” Y/N asked.

“Y-Yes, everything is fine. Please, just come down to the club. I have some news,” Oswald stuttered as he quickly hung up the phone. The nickname Y/N had given him always left him flustered.

Y/N hurried as fast as they could to the club. Oswald had sounded concerned, which only made Y/N worry more. Was he hurt? Did one of the boys beat him up again? If that were the case, they were going to take care of it once and for all. Y/N stormed through the door to the club, and flung their jacket into the closest booth. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. However, Fish Mooney is dead,” Oswald declared bluntly. Y/N’s jaw dropped in an instant.

“Oswald, I know I should be worried about how she died, but frankly I don’t care. She was mean to you, and I secretly hated her. So, what do we do now?”

Oswald looked around at the club. “We take over. We design this place how we want, and keep the riches for ourselves. We can finally live the dream that we wanted.”

“I would love that, Oswald.”

The two began to tear down all of the old decorations that adorned the walls of the club. It felt exciting, and in that excitement, Y/N pulled Oswald in for a kiss. It was very short, and despite how bold Y/N was, her confidence instantly faltered. “I’m so sorry, Ozzie. I-I just couldn’t hold my feelings back any longer.”

Oswald took Y/N’s hand and laid a delicate kiss on their knuckles. “No need to apologize, dove. In fact, what better way to seal our new partnership than with a kiss.”

Y/N smiled at his words, relieved that their feelings were reciprocated. The two embraced each other once again, their lips meeting in a slow but passionate kiss. The two then got back to what they were doing before. Oswald and Y/N were so used to being broke, but now they would have money and new found love to fulfill their lives.

[gallickingun]

moving target

Summary: Bakugou Katsuki’s reputation needs a little work. His manager suggests he take a job as a personal bodyguard to one of the donor’s daughter to try and increase his social standing. Bakugou agrees, reminding himself that whoever he’s babysitting is nothing more than a glorified paycheck, a stepping ladder to get closer to surpassing even All Might in hero status. But, when you’re kidnapped, he has to face the truth that you might mean more to him than he planned.

Rating: T for Teen Warnings: language, a little graphic violence, a creepy scene there for a second, a semi-spicy scene, etc.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Word Count: 12,310 (because i have NO CHILL!)

request more from this prompt list!

“Absolutely not,” Bakugo huffs, kicking his boots up on the glass table in front of him, “I will not be some brat’s babysitter.”

His manager huffs, stepping forward, “Listen, your PR ratings are low. Helping out a big donor, being in the public eye actually helping will boost your ratings. Higher ratings mean more screen time which means more money, and eventually, a better gig.”

“...fine.”

As much as he hated to admit it, he was slipping through the ranks. Bakugo found it easy to rescue people, to punch out bad guys, but the press bit was where he severely lacked any and all prowess. 

It only took one wrong encounter with a news reporter for Bakugo’s ratings to tank, which meant he was getting fewer sponsorship agreements and even less screen time on the nightly news. He needed this. 

He hated this.

The way the suit clung to his shoulders reminded him of Ochako’s original hero costume from high school. All he had to do was send in his measurements, and the agency had five freshly pressed, perfectly tailored suits delivered to his apartment by the next morning. Still, he wished he was wearing his gauntlets and face mask instead of this silken suit.

His eyes wandered over the mansion he was currently standing in front of, the multiple stories forcing him to crane his neck to take it all in. Bakugo snorts, rolling his eyes as he steps out of the dark SUV, stepping up the flight of stairs to the large, intricate front door. He barely has time to knock before an older gentleman is opening the door, greeting him with a shrill accent.

“You must be here for the lady,” he makes way for Bakugo to walk in the door. The other two security guards are stalking around the homestead, securing the borders, so he walks in alone.

He can make out your figure sitting at the kitchen table, back to the foyer where he’s making his entrance. He read your file, studied your photos. You’re every bit as bratty as he assumed you would be when he was first offered the position. Your father was such a high contributor to the agency, and yet all of those dollars spent meant nothing. You were some version of a hedge fund baby - you went off to school with not a care in the world, money no object as you blitzed through life. 

Bakugo despises everything that you and your family stand for. He came from nothing, built himself from the dirt up. Once he got his quirk, he swore he would never let anyone look down on him again, especially not those who were born endowed.

The older man calls your name and your head bobs at the sound before you turn in your chair, “Oh, is the next one here already, Miles?”

Next one? Bakugo thinks to himself. He didn’t hear about anyone before him. There were other bodyguards?

Miles, the butler-esque man standing in between you and Bakugo, chuckles, turning his head to slyly gaze at the young man in the foyer, “Ah, yes. The next one is here, ma’am.”

You laugh and slowly make your way across the room to inspect your newest victim. He’s wearing a dark suit, in contrast to his pale hair and light eyes. You tug at his tie and he snatches you by the wrists, “It’s expensive. Don’t touch.”

Raising a brow, you circle around him, “My daddy could buy you, hero, so don’t get your panties in a twist.”

Bakugo decides he doesn’t like the way the word ‘hero’ comes out of your mouth; like acid dripping from your tongue. He feels sweat begin to gather in his palms and he has to wring his hands out so a fireworks show doesn’t start on day one. God, he’s never wanted to wear his flashy costume so much in his life. Anything to get your eyes off of him.

“More of a briefs guy myself,” he offers after a beat, looking at you over his shoulder.

You’re smirking, the start of a giggle on your lips, “Oh, I’m gonna like you.”

Something other than nitroglycerin bubbles in his belly, and Bakugo isn’t quite sure how to feel about it.

-

It didn’t take long for him to realize that you were a handful and a half. 

You never tell him where you’re going, you refuse to keep your phone on anything but silent, and he swears that you’re trying to evade him everywhere you go.

“Dammit,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes as you slip away from him in a crowd.

Bakugo flanks off to the side, barely able to make out the top of your head as you push your way through the marketplace. He memorized your outfit - a pretty sundress and a pair of sandals, purse slung over your shoulder - so he should be able to spot you amidst the others. 

He finally makes out your profile, but you’ve changed. There’s now a jacket covering your shoulders, a sun hat on your head. Bakugo narrows his eyes, but despite his rage at losing you, a small smirk works its way on his lips at the fire you have within yourself to try and escape him despite the circumstance.

You’re turning down a side street when you feel your body pressed against the brick wall. A gasp barely leaves your mouth before you lean back and jut your elbow into his solar plexus, stepping on the inside of his foot. A grunt leaves his mouth and you swivel to knee him in the groin, but your knee is caught between a pair of strong hands just as your knee cap brushes the fabric of his suit pants.

“Very funny,” he mutters, hooking his palm around your thigh to ensure you won’t wriggle free.

You push at his shoulders and he’s surprised at the fiery expression on your face, your nose scrunched and brows furrowed, “Get off me!”

Bakugo releases your knee and your foot stomps on his toe again, a bruise already forming. His nostrils flare as he glares down at you. You’re quick to straighten your spine, matching his stare with one of your own.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” Bakugo uses his thumb and index finger to tilt your chin upward, “Gonna try to play me like a little shit?”

You’re slapping him before he can process it, “I don’t need your protection. I’m fine on my own.”

Your answer surprises him, but the action of being slapped pisses him off. He growls down at you, “You ungrateful little…”

“Go ahead,” you shrug, pushing your way out of his hold, “leave, just like all the others.”

Bakugo follows behind you, muttering something into his earpiece that you can’t hear. Frustrated tears cloud the edges of your vision, but the sunshine clears your mind as you step back onto the street. 

“You forget,” he sidles up next to you, “it’s my job to keep you safe. You run off, I don’t get a paycheck.”

The laugh that parts your lips makes him look down at you, the hat hiding part of your face so he can’t quite make out exactly what you’re feeling. He's never been a bodyguard before, but something tells him that this is going to turn out much different than he expected. 

"Good to know as long as my daddy is feeding you money, you'll stalk me like an animal." You sigh, crossing your arms over your body as you walk toward the bridge overlooking the city. "You're lucky, then, all my father knows how to do is shovel money at people."

Something twinges within Bakugo's chest, like an organ begging to pop within his body. He watches as you lean forward against the bridge, your hands wafting in the wind as you wave them around.

If he had to say it, Bakugo would agree that you were pretty. Your frame was perfect, the profile of your face made for a beautiful shadow. Your eyes lit up even underneath the shade of the brim of your hat, and he wants to smack himself for noticing.

"Sorry," you break him out of his trance, "I don't mean to bore you, I know you're not here for my life story. Paycheck only."

There's a hint of hurt in your voice and he becomes curious - is this your normal? Are the only people in your life those who wish to drain your family bank account dry? He certainly can't relate; his family was never wealthy and even now, starting his pro hero journey is far from glamorous. The only reason he has a rooftop apartment is because the agency sponsored it, and Kirishima shares it with him. 

Bakugo leans against the bridge, back to the water so he can watch for any threats behind you, "I'm your new best friend, sweetheart. Your daddy pays me to be all up in your business."

You reach out to smack his arm, but this one has much less force than the prior one you landed to his face. He winces dramatically, scrunching his side as if absorbing the impact. You can't help but snicker, tucking your nose against your shoulder.

Bakugo basks in the warmth of the afternoon sun, taking in the golden hour. There are times he wishes he could be fully decked out in his explosive gear, and then there are other times, when his restless heart finds tranquility in the quiet of the mundane. 

People pass, wind blows, and yet his body remains at peace.

-

You’re drunk. 

Bakugo hates when you’re drunk.

You’re sloppy and messy and handsy, oh god are you handsy. He’s watching from the bar, paying attention as you slur your words to the bartender and giggle with your best friend beside you. Every instinct in him tells his body to drag your ass back home, but he knows you’d put him through the ringer for it. Plus, that’s not his job anyway. His job is only to keep you safe.

So, as long as you don’t kill yourself stumbling out of the club, he’ll still get paid.

You’re touching his waistline as you pass him, laughing up at him with those bright, glassy eyes you always get after vodka hits your veins. You curl your fingers into his waistband and he has to push every instinct of his deep down so he doesn’t flip you over the bar.

“‘Suki?” you drawl, leaning your body into him so the person behind you can pass.

He tilts his head, acknowledging you in silence. You tug on his belt loops, “Gonna go to the bathr’m, okay?” 

You know this means he has to follow you - he has to follow you everywhere. 

You slip your hand into his, a habit you’ve picked up when you’re on the other side of sober, and squeeze his palm before tugging him towards the bathroom. You release him before you slip in the door, allowing him to stand guard like a good dog does.

Bakugo counts the seconds in his mind, coming up on six minutes makes his heartbeat a little faster. Once he’s gotten to nine, his palms are sweating. Small fireworks echo on his fingertips, the air scenting of ash as he starts to become worried.

He calls your name, knocking on the door three times consecutively. There’s no response from the other side, save a muffled sound that doesn’t resemble your tone. He crosses his arms over his chest and stamps his foot into the ground, his palms itching to slip into his gauntlets; he’d make much better use of the nitroglycerin collecting on his skin then.

After eleven minutes and thirty-seven seconds, Bakugo pushes the door in.

There’s no sounds of wretching or of peeing, so he’s at a loss. All of the stall doors are open, and your body is nowhere to be found. Bakugo presses his thumb against the small transmitter in his ear, asking the others if they saw you leaving the building.

As he turns, he notices an employee-only door. His feet are carrying him before his mind can catch up, muttering something into the communications unit before curling his palms to fists. He kicks the door in and just barely catches the sight of your body being dragged out the other side, eyes wide as you reach for him.

Bakugo is propelling himself forward with his blasts immediately, a shockwave rippling through the small employee room, but he doesn’t care. Somehow he manages to compose himself long enough to alert the rest of the team.

All he can see is red as he busts down the door. You’re his mission, the one thing that he needed to protect, and his whole being quivers at the idea that he’s failed.

Your voice is muffled but he can still hear you as they drag you down the alleyway. He’s got to make a precise blast so he doesn’t burn you, but still manages to knock the bad guys off their feet.

“Fuckin’ suit,” he mutters, praying to whoever is listening that he’ll be able to wear his suit, or at least some version of it, when he’s on guard duty going forward. Bakugo burns through the sleeves, the cloth turning to ash as he ignites his power.

He smirks, “Hey, dipshits!”

The two holding you turn at the sound of his voice, their faces covered by masks. Bakugo continues to push forward, bright flashes of orange and yellow lighting the alley behind him. He’s laughing maniacally now, because this is what he came for. He came for the bloodlust, he came for the mission. He came for the villains.

“Got ya,” Bakugo mutters before turning his palm to face the guy on your right who's much taller. The explosion knocks all three of you backward, incapacitating the one he targeted. The other scrambles to his feet, yanking on your body to try and drag you toward a black SUV parked on the side of the road not too far away.

You’re fighting back, Bakugo notices. You’re thrashing and screaming, trying to kick him in the shins from your position on the ground. Your whole body is like one big firecracker, arms and legs wailing at the guy. The hero can’t help but feel a swell of pride.

He propels himself forward, flipping in the air to stand tall on the opposite side of the perpetrator, hand held directly in the guy’s face - a threat, not a warning.

Bakugou chuckles, “Where you goin’, shithead?”

There’s a loud crunch of his bones when Bakugo lands a perfect strike between his eyes. He shakes his fists, thinking to himself that he should probably pick boxing back up, and turns to look at you.

The sight of your face smeared with tears, body shaking as you try not to cry. Your chest heaves with emotion as you try to sit up in the alleyway, your body a mess of limbs.

“Hey,” he’s surprisingly gentle as he squats in front of you. “Let me get that thing off you.”

He’s talking about the tape on your mouth. You stop squirming for a moment and he peels the sticky substance away from your mouth. You wince as he yanks it from your hands and feet, throat tight while you wait. 

Secure the payload, Bakugo thinks, remembering All Might’s lessons from back at U.A. He let Deku get the better of him back then, but now he’s much more focused and precise. There is less collateral this time.

Bakugo helps you to your feet, holding your hands as you clamber to stand upright. Your spine straightens and he didn’t realize you’d lost your shoes sometime in the struggle, bringing your height below his.

There is a tiny thing within him that twinges at the sight of you, all in disarray.

He goes to ask you how you’re feeling, how you’re holding up, but something in him catches the words like a fish hook in his throat. It reels his concern back in, pulling it to the acid of his belly so it can die there.

Secure the payload. 

That’s all you are to him - a paycheck, a payload, a mission.

“Just get me the hell home,” you manage, shoving yourself past him. “I’m sick of this place.”

-

“The hell?!” Bakugo is shouting now, hands booming at his sides, “You didn’t think that was something you should’ve told me before we started this job?!”

His agent sighs from the other end of the receiver, “Our officers are on a tight leash, they can’t give us any information that might leak.”

“You think I'm a rat!?” Bakugo snaps, his spine erect as he wishes his quirk were warping so he could whoop someone’s ass for keeping this from him. 

“No, but if you were tortured, it was possible. These are big syndicates after their family, specifically targeting the daughter.” She takes a pause, waiting to see if the hero might retort. When he doesn’t, she breathes in audibly and continues, “Those were low level thugs at the club a couple of weeks ago. They have no connections, and they weren’t high enough on the food chain to have any information they could give us. Everything was nameless and faceless.”

“I swear to god,” Bakugo paces, ripping his hands through his hair, “I still can’t believe you didn’t think this was something you should’ve fucking told me! I thought I was just looking after some spoiled brat, and now you’re telling me this?!”

He hears his given name called out from your bedroom a few halls over and his attention spikes. The feel of sweat on his skin leads to the expelling of crackling explosions as he turns to walk towards your room.

“You better give me everything,” he seethes before hanging up.

There’s a sarcastic remark sitting on the tip of his tongue as he enters your room, but he’s shocked to find you still asleep. Bakugo steps closer, just to be sure, and something tightens in his chest at the sight of you curled in on yourself, brow tightly knit as you whimper under your breath.

Bakugo turns against any and every instinct in his body as he crouches next to your bed, his palm brushing gently over your back. He can hear Kirishima in his head, mocking him for being soft.

“The great Bakugo Katsuki, brought to his knees by a mere mortal!” Kirishima laughs, throwing his head back. He removes his face guard and boots at the table, his hands on his hips as he stares across the space at Bakugo, “You’ve changed since you started this job, man. I gotta say, I think you caring about others is really great. You’re manning up, dude!”

Bakugo accepts the high five from his friend, but not without a few miniature explosions popping off between their hands as he does so.

Kirishima is stuck clutching his palm to his chest as Bakugo swaggers away, a smirk on his face. 

“Maybe I was wrong,” Kirishima sighs, “Maybe you haven’t changed a bit.”

Your bleary eyes bring him back to reality, your hand reaching out to touch his face. You blink slowly, a sleepy grin on your face.

“‘Suki,” you mumble, your cheek pressed into the pillow.

If you were awake, he wouldn’t let you touch him like this. He would keep you at an arm’s length, crimson irises focused on your every move. However, you won’t remember this in the morning, and maybe that’s the only reason that he’s actually leaning into your palm. 

“Nightmares again?” he asks.

The phone call from earlier still rings in his head, his agent’s voice reverberating around. He looks at you a little differently now, he thinks, although he’d never admit it aloud.

You’re pouting, your hand falling from his face to tuck back under your chin. You nod and mumble something under your breath that he can’t quite make out, so he shifts closer. Bakugo sighs, “I’m here, all right? No need to have nightmares.”

You nod and pull the covers back to your chin and close your eyes, “Alright, ‘Suki.”

He stays squatted next to you until you’re snoring again, chest rising and falling consistently. He’s not sure why his body does what it does, but he reaches out and smoothes his thumb over the creases in your forehead until your face relaxes in your slumber.

“Fuckin’ dumbass,” he mutters with a grin, pushing your hair away from his face.

As he stands to his feet, he catches the sight of his dumbstruck face in your mirror, and he’s appalled. He’s not scowling, but instead there is the trace of a smile on his lips. Bakugo isn’t sure of the last time he genuinely smiled at something other than the breaking of bones.

Heat gathers in his hands and he has to force himself from blasting the mirror to shards, “Fuckin’ dumbass.”

-

“Can you find her?”

“No, have you seen her?”

“Last time I saw her, she was headed to the library.”

“And you didn’t think to.. Follow her?” 

“Well-”

“Shut up, dumbass,” Bakugo pushes past one of the other bodyguards, shoving towards the direction of the library.

He’s slipping through the doorway to check around the bookshelves for your body. He’s getting ready to call for you when he hears your voice. 

“If you wanted to get me alone, all you had to do was ask.”

“Tch,” Bakugo narrows his eyes, looking up.

You’re curled up in the loft, your body wrapped in a blanket with a book in your lap. There’s a small breakfast nook-like area looking out onto the lake in the center of the back lawn, moonlight filtering in through the etched glass.

You tuck your feet underneath yourself and pat the open space next to you, gesturing for him to take a seat. He mutters something into his ear piece before climbing the ladder to join you in the loft. He’s sitting opposite of you, his arms crossed as he looks down at the ground below.

“This whole escaping thing is getting on my damn nerves,” Bakugo snaps at you, nudging your thigh with his boot. “Would it kill you to stay in one place for more than a few seconds?”

Shrugging, you rest your arm on his leg, palm cupping his calf, “But then where would the fun be?”

“I’d love to not have to chase you around for one damn day in my life.” Bakugo licks his lips and rests his head back against the wall, eyes tracking over every square inch of the backyard as he looks out the window. His palms crackle in his lap, itching to be let loose on the world.

“Why did you take this job?”

The question comes out of nowhere, something he wasn’t prepared to have to think about. Bakugo’s voice is gruff when he speaks his answer, “My agent told me my reputation needed some work. Apparently I’m not a fuckin’ icon, or whatever.”

Your laughter doesn’t piss him off as much as it used to. You squeeze his calf and tilt your head back so you’re leaning on the wall, “Oh, you having a little image problem, Sparky?”

Bakugo narrows his eyes at you, but there’s no intent behind it. He sighs, “Your dad donates a lot to our agency. My manager told me to take it. Nothing else to it.”

“You miss the fight, though, don’t you?” Your eyes are swirling with some mixture of curiosity and something else he can’t quite make out. You curl your free hand into a fist in your lap, “I’ll bet beating guys heads in is the best feeling, isn’t it?”

If he wasn’t expecting your initial question, he really isn’t expecting those words when they tumble out of your lips. And he really wasn’t anticipating the utter excitement in your tone, either. A pristine girl like you, fantasizing about bashing villains? 

Either you were faking it, or you’re too good to be true.

You chuckle, “I’ve always loved your fighting style, at least what I could see of it. Your quirk is so cool, so useful.”

Your voice is almost wistful now, the edges of your lips upturned in a grin. You’re biting your lip in consideration and his leg feels cold when you remove your palm from it, wringing your hands together in your lap.

The hysteria on the cusp of your voice reminds him of his own mania in battle - the way he bares his teeth when he lets his gauntlets loose; the way his palms crackle as he approaches another guy from behind; the anticipation settled in his chest every time they suit up. 

Bakugo tilts his head, “What’s your quirk?”

“I-I don’t have-” 

Your voice is too nervous, too high-pitched. He wants to laugh at your obvious lie, but instead he holds up his palm and lets loose a few explosions, sparking the air between the two of you with orange and ash.

The lingering scent in the air reminds you of marshmallows over a campfire, and you realize it’s what you’ve been smelling on him for months. You never paid much attention to how his quirk works, all you’ve ever known is that he has an explosive ability that matches his hot-headed personality.

“My sweat contains nitroglycerin,” Bakugo explains when he notices your look of bewilderment. He finds his face smoothing into a smile as you reach out and grasp him by the wrist. “It’s explosive, obviously. I use my gauntlets in my hero suit to store it so I can use larger impacts to take down buildings or bad guys, or both.”

You brush your thumb over the bumps of his palm, up over his fingers. Quirks have always fascinated you, mostly because your father indulges in every aspect of them save for having one.

“Wow,” you say finally, voice faraway.

He swears your eyes are glittering with the way the moonlight refracts off of the glass of the window. His chest heaves as you push your way closer to grab his other hand out of his lap. The way you trace over the lines in his palms as if they have all the answers makes his shoulders perk with pride.

“When did you get your quirk?” you ask.

“I think I was like, five, or some shit, I don’t remember.” Bakugo can feel himself retreating, his walls shrinking in fear as you get too close. Your body heat mixes with his own and his eyes almost cross at the dizzying feeling of your proximity.

You are chewing on your lower lip and his mind slips in the fog to wonder what it might feel like if you tugged on his mouth like that.

He’s about to stand up and walk away because he can’t- no, he won’t- feel these things for you. You’re a paycheck, an objective, nothing more. Just like the weapon from his U.A. classes - all he has to do is protect you, and his ratings will rise and he’ll be able to fall back into the higher ranks of heroes. And then he’ll be able to leave.

“My parents don’t have quirks,” your laugh is dry, much unlike your giggles from earlier. You are smiling but it’s not making your eyes wrinkle at the edges like usual, “I think that’s why my dad invests so much money into them; maybe he’s projecting. Or maybe he’s living vicariously through his investments, I’m not sure.”

Bakugo hears you suck in a breath and there’s a pain in his chest at the sound, “When I got my quirk, my dad was so scared of me. As soon as it started showing, he built me my own wing in the house and brought Miles in to take care of me.”

Your hands fall away from his, tucked into your midsection so you can worry over your shirt as you speak. “I don’t think I’ve had a real conversation with my dad since I was little, not anything that mattered, anyway. When he shipped me off to college, he would call every now and then, but all we talked about were the heroes he was betting on.”

You lick your lips and laugh again, this one turning dark. Your chest is caving in as all of the memories of your father’s distance play on loop, threatening to pull you under again.

“No one knows I have a quirk,” you admit breathlessly, finally looking him in the eyes. “I think it’s his twisted way of keeping me, and everyone else, safe.”

Bakugo wants to hold you, any part of you, but there is a pin still in his body’s grenade, keeping him from you. He swallows the growing lump in his throat and tries his hardest to control the sweat in his palms at your story. He’s never heard your voice this chilling before; normally you are a sunbeam incarnate, walking around brightening everything you touch, even if you’re a bit mischievous sometimes. 

“I can manipulate organic matter,” you say. “Anything living.”

The reality of what all facets of that statement can mean makes Bakugo’s muscles ache.

You’re chuckling at the expression on his face, “Yeah, exactly. Of course you’d want to keep me hidden away.”

“No,” he shakes his head.

As if to prove to him that you’re nothing more than a liability, you raise your palm in the air and summon the flowers sitting in the vase just a few feet away from you forward. The budding floral prongs are twirling in tandem with the motions of your fingers. In a display of your power, you make the flowers walk as if their stems were legs, up Bakugo’s thigh and over his knee, all the way down to the toe of his boot.

Once they’re close enough to you, you levitate them in the air again, the pink and yellow petals beautiful even in the shadows of the night.

Bakugo’s eyes go wide as the flowers begin to lose their color, the shades of spring colors beginning to desaturate until they’re nothing but brown, wilted buds. You curl your hand into a fist and the flowers ball up accordingly, mushing together until they are no longer recognizable.

“Holy shit,” Bakugo’s eyes track the object as you release your control over it and the squashed flowers drop with a thud into your palm.

You’re waiting for him to become frightened of you, to look at you with wide eyes as he fears for his own life. That’s what your father did when you showed the beginning signs of your quirk. He shoved you in a box, frightened you’d turn out something fierce, something evil.

“Do it again.”

Your voice catches in your throat, a short gasp parting your lips, “Wh-Wha-”

“You’re a fucking badass,” Bakugo shifts closer to you, the personal space he usually keeps between the two of you forgotten. “Can you do it again? With something else?”

“Y-You want me…” Your eyes are wide, pupils dilating as you gaze up at him. He’s smiling like a madman but it makes your heart light on fire, “Sure.”

You spend the next hour or so grabbing different living things from around the room, twisting them and manipulating them. Bakugo’s eyes follow your every movement, every motion. His jaw hangs slightly open as he watches on in fascination, your quirk a new experience for him.

You turn to look over the balcony, wondering if there might be anything you can grab from down there, when you feel his chest press against your back. He’s just leaning up to scout the area, but his chin might as well rest on your shoulder with his closeness. You pinpoint a basket of fruit at the bottom of the stairs near the entryway and you concentrate to see what types of fruit there are.

“Apple or pear?” you ask, turning just enough to look him in the eyes beside you.

He tilts his head, “Pear, why the hell not?”

You tug two pears up over the railing, dropping one of them into his hand, the other in your lap. There’s a crunching sound as he digs his teeth into the fruit, some of the juice landing on your shoulder. It tickles, and you go to wipe it off, but Bakugo beats you to it, brushing his thumb over the exposed skin.

The realization that you’re practically in his lap makes your chest constrict. You swallow and reach down to pluck the pear from your lap, turning the fruit over in your hands as a distraction.

“So, your dad was scared of you?” he asks, resting his chin on his palm so he can get a better look at you.

You take a chance and lean yourself back into him, his shoulders thudding against the wall at the impact. Your head tilts upward so you can look at the ceiling, the feel of his collarbone behind the crown of your head somehow comforting.

“He thought I would go on a killing spree or something,” you shrug, your thumbs busy with the pear in your hands. The memories you have of your father are not pleasant, what little you have. 

Bakugo hikes his leg up so you can get more comfortable, giving you more space between his thighs. He tells himself that this is just part of the mission - he needs to get to know you so you’ll trust him, so you’ll stop running away. It'll make his job easier. That’s all this is.

You turn the fruit over, inspecting every speckle, “Just like with the flower, I can manipulate the life force inside of a person. I could kill them, if I were strong enough."

"Strong enough?" he echoes through his chewing. "What the hell does that mean?"

You laugh, cradling the pear in your palm like a child, "I was never trained on how to use my quirk. My father was so afraid of me that he forbade me to use it in front of others. I cared enough about him to respect his wishes; I wouldn't have forgiven myself if he lost business over my weird quirk."

"Your quirk isn't weird, dumbass," Bakugo's hand smooths down your hair from the back.

You laugh and look up at him, turning your body to lean against his thigh, "Thought I was a badass?"

He rolls his eyes, "You can be both."

You're tugging on his hands again, circling your fingers delicately around his wrists before yanking them forward. A strangled sound comes from the back of his throat at the sudden contact but you don't seem to notice.

Holding his palms outward, you rest your hands so the backs of yours are pressed to the insides of his hands, his much larger anatomy dwarfing your own. You're smiling but he's not sure why.

"I've wondered what it's like to be you," your voice is quiet now, the wonder giving way to sleep. "It must be amazing."

So Bakugo details all the stories he can remember. Eventually, after a few lines recounting the battles he's been in, your hands drift down from hovering in midair and he finds himself following suit. Your fingers are cold and for a moment he wonders if it's a side effect of your quirk.

He curls his fingers around yours when he isn't using his hands to tell you about a mission, the warmth from his palms leeching onto your own hands to keep you from freezing over. 

It isn't too long before he hears the change in your breathing; it's slower, heavier now. Your body is more slumped against him that it was before and he knows that you've fallen asleep.

"Quirk must take it outta ya, huh?" Bakugo brushes his thumb down the length of your forearm. He sighs and looks down at how your body just so perfectly lines up with his, "Fuckin' hell...what're you doing, man?"

The last bit of his resolve crumbles when a small sigh parts your mouth and you turn so your cheek is pressed into his pectoral, one hand coming to curl around the fabric of his shirt and the other keeping his palm captive in your tiny grasp.

Bakugo can tell how much smaller than him you are; he could easily overpower you to get out of this situation, he knows he could. But for some reason, he doesn't want to. 

For once in his life he really feels like he's doing something good, something wholesome. His body enraptures you like a cage and he keeps his eyes on the back yard, ready to act if there are any intruders. A fierce feeling prickles at the skin on the back of his neck and he wants to bare his teeth for some reason, but he tames the feral instinct before he can dig his hands into you to make sure you're safe.

Bakugo, for the first time since he met you, starts to wonder if maybe this could be more than just a mission. 

-

You’re sure you’re not supposed to overhear his conversation, but he told you to stay close. So, really, you’re just doing as you’re told. Which is a pretty big achievement for you.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding, right?” Bakugo is laughing sadistically into the phone receiver, tossing his head back. You’re sure his laughter is to combat the growl that’s sitting in his chest. He’s hushed as he speaks, “You can’t pull me from this assignment now. There’s two international events in the next month and she’s got public outings. You won’t be able to train anyone new-no, I said no. You can’t-listen...I swear to god…”

The slamming of his phone shut startles you, but you’re able to cover your mouth with your hand before your squeak tumbles out. You press your back into the wall so he can’t discover your sneaking. When his loud footsteps come closer, you try to shrink down the hall, pretending like you’d just started to wander this way.

Bakugo steps out of the room and really, did anyone ever consider just how attractive he was before they assigned him to your team? 

He’s tall, much taller than you, and built with dense muscle and thick sinew. His shoulders trim down to slimmer hips, but that is only misleading as his pelvis gives way to full thighs and rounded calves. You’re thankful they allowed him to stop wearing suits after his first couple of weeks - now he’s in a more relaxed outfit - black long sleeve t-shirt with a pair of jeans that lead into his signature black combat boots.

“Katsuki!” you call, stepping forward.

After that night, falling asleep against him in the loft, things have shifted. You’ve noticed that he’s more physical with you - whether it be with closeness, or with touch. He’s not afraid to brush up against you, and he doesn’t recoil when your body comes into contact with his own. Instead, it’s almost as if he’s welcoming it. 

It’s a gentle hand guiding you towards an exit, or his palm squeezed in yours when you’re on the wrong side of sober and trying to get out of a bar. In the car, on the way home, he doesn’t mind if you fall asleep against his shoulder. 

His brows perk when he hears your voice, crystalline eyes snapping up from his phone to make contact with your gaze. You swear the beginning of a smile touches the corners of his lips.

“Do you think we can go to the market before we get ready to go out of town?” you ask, pouting just enough to make him consider.

Bakugo puffs a breath out of his mouth, his jaw hanging open slightly. You reach forward and wrap your arms around his back, running your hands up his shoulders with a bright grin on your face, “C’mon! Live a little.”

He’s rolling his eyes but walking forward with his arm slung around your shoulder, “Whatever. Better buy me somethin’ real nice.”

“Of course!” You bob up on your toes to kiss his cheek, “Anything you like.”

His face is bright red, but you’re too busy thinking about the market to notice. As soon as you walk into the common area, his arm retreats from your form and his spine goes rigid. You know that things have to be more strict in front of your father’s staff and his coworkers. They have a short conversation before the others are grabbing their weapons and communications units, stepping out the front door to load up the SUVs. 

It’s not long before you’re walking the cobblestone paths of the market, very reminiscent of your first escape attempt. The breeze is blowing, clouds offering some shade but not much. You’re in another one of your brightly colored sundresses, hair flowing freely in the wind. You twirl in front of him, “Hey, ‘Suki, do you think you’d ever do this full time?”

He tilts his head in silent questioning, and you elaborate, “I-I mean, if my daddy could pay you enough, do you think you could be my bodyguard for a long time?”

The color in his face drains just enough for you to know that what you heard on the phone earlier was true - he’s leaving you.

“Listen,” his voice is gruff, “I’m working to be a pro-hero, alright? I don’t have time to fuckin’ babysit for the rest of my life.”

Your heart twists in your chest but you force a smile anyway, “Yeah, that’s what I figured. I know I can be a handful, and not nearly as much fun as blasting villains.”

The slight downturn in your tone makes his chest feel hollow. Bakugo knows that he shouldn’t phrase things the way he does, but he’s on communication devices with the others and he can’t have them knowing that he’s fallen complete hook, line, and sinker for you.

You’re walking down the side of the road when an idea comes to you - you know just what to do to cheer him up, for old time’s sake. It’s been a while since you’ve tried to evade him for real.

Throwing a teasing glance over your shoulder, you wink at him before slipping away from him, blending in with the others around you. You manage to grab a ball cap off of a vendor table, leaving them a large bill to take care of the cost. A quick stop at a food vendor leaves you in the wind as Bakugo walks past your body, eyes high as he steps through the crowds to try and find you.

Katsuki is frantic - it feels like someone has just pumped ice water into his veins. His feet can’t carry him fast enough. If it weren’t for the phone call earlier, he might not have allowed fear to clutch at him like a vice, but the words of the officer on the other line ring loudly in his head. 

“There have been talks in the underground of a possible kidnapping attempt. Soon.”

His saliva collects like a ball of tape in his throat and he can’t swallow it down. He speaks into his comms but he’s not sure he’s talking in full sentences or syllables. His body carries him down every alleyway, every side street, until he catches a glimpse of the tail of your dress curving down a street across the market.

Relief floods his body and Bakugo jogs to the dead end road, a sarcastic retort on his lips about how you almost got a rise out of him when his eyes catch onto something at the end of the alleyway.

There, pinned to the wall by a nail, is a swatch of your dress, covered in blood with the words don’t come looking written in crimson liquid.

Acid churns in his stomach. Heat settles behind his eyes. Explosions echo off of his hands.

“Wrong fuckin’ move,” he grits his teeth, narrowing his eyes as he snatches the cloth in his hands. He looks up to the roof where he’s sure some villain with a quirk has escaped with you, “Holy shit, wrong move.”

-

The past few hours have been nothing but a painful blur for you. There’s crusted blood on your head from where someone has slammed a blunt object to knock you out. Your wrists and ankles are burning from the cuffs wrapped around them, the chains echoing in the warehouse-like space. Your throat is parched from trying to scream through the gag in your mouth and the sobs that rack your body.

It was just supposed to be a game, something to cheer up his spirits, your running off. You never intended for it to turn into something that’s probably spiking his blood pressure and getting his ear chewed off. Another bout of tears sweeps through your lids when you realize that Katsuki is going to get in trouble due to your immaturity.

Someone has brought you a pale of water, but it’s so demeaning that all you can do is kick it across the warehouse. You’re surprised they’re allowing you to have your vision, given that they’ve taken everything else from you. 

“We’ll get a hefty ransom for her,” a thug off in the corner mutters to his counterpart. They stare over at you and you feel violated just by their gaze. You curl yourself inward, trying to hide as much of your body as possible.

The taller of the two slaps the original speaker on the back of the head, “You touch her, you’re dead. You heard what the boss said. No nasty shit.”

Your jaw quivers as you think of what they could do to you, all tied up like this. You’re helpless. The realization multiplies the well of tears settled in the brim of your eyelids. They laugh at your tears and you want to kick each of them between the legs until they beg for mercy at your hands. 

If Bakugo were here, he’d have already freed himself. He would have never gotten captured in the first place. Now you want to kick yourself. How could you be so careless? You were too wrapped up in your childish, foolish game to realize you were being tailed. Katsuki would be disappointed in you.

“The fuck you cryin’ about?” the taller thug asks. He cracks his knuckles before stepping to you, squatting down. He tucks his hand roughly under your chin to pull your attention up so you’re looking him in the eye. He smirks, “Gonna give you somethin’ to cry about, bitch.”

A set of slaps resounds in the empty room, both of your cheeks stinging at his harsh motion.

Your immediate reaction is to whimper, but you stamp it down in favor of being seen as strong. You grit your teeth together and snarl up at him, eyes hard as you glare. He chuckles, gripping you by the throat until your eyes bug out of your head, “Oh, you stupid bitch. Quit your whinin’.”

He slings you to the floor and your wound pounds in pain, reopening and leaving a gateway for a fresh stream of blood to trickle down your neck. You want to cradle the spot, do anything to try and dilute or soothe the pain, but your hands are stuck behind your back. 

The two thugs are arguing about something, but the last thing you see is the two of them looking down at you as your vision fades to black.

-

The next time you wake, your body is in a chair, apparatus attached to every part of your body. Your mind is foggy and you hear someone calling Katsuki’s name so you start to search for him. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes when you realize that it’s your voice. 

“Shut up or I’ll gag you again,” a brute voice hovers over your shoulder.

There are still black spots covering most of your vision, so you can’t see who's speaking to you. Your nose itches and you try to move your shoulder only to find your neck is locked into a metal casing. You swallow, your throat bobbing against the cold metal.

A man in all black, face hidden behind an intricate, colorful mask, stands in front of you. His demeanor is nothing if not calm and collected, a gun attached to his hip although you suspect he has some sort of quirk as well. He crosses his arms over his chest as he looks you over, as if he were sizing you up even though you’ve not managed to put up any sort of a fight this entire time.

“How much do you think your daddy will pay to have you safe?” he drawls, squatting down so you can look down at him.

He swivels a knife out of his pocket, turning the blade over before pressing it to his tongue, “I’m thinking a fat stack of paper will keep you alive. Don’t you agree?”

“Go to he-ah!” You’re stopped as the tip of the knife presses to the inner part of your thigh. Your nostrils flare and you glare down at him, shifting in your seat to futilely pull away from his weapon.

“I heard your bodyguard is kind of sweet on you,” he smirks, twirling the blade so the point stays connected to your skin, “and I’m sure he wants to see you safe.”

Your teeth chatter but you bare your canines anyway, “You’re going to wish you’d never been born when Katsuki gets ahold of-”

“Katsuki, huh? You’re on given names now?” The man stands to his feet, slinging the blade around before tucking it back into his belt. He chuckles, “You pregnant with his kid, too?”

You spit on him as he bends over in front of you, face mere inches from your own. It pisses him off to the point where he snatches you by the hair, pulling you forward so your esophagus is crushed by the metal chain around your throat. You can’t breathe, choking at the sudden impact. You see stars and you can’t do anything but thrash in the chair, arms and legs bruising on contact of the latches keeping your body as still as possible.

The one thing that you can make out above everything else is the coolness of metal pressed to your temple. It is not sharp, so you have to assume that there’s a gun to your temple. His voice is in your ear, low and slithering, “I’ve already taken photos of your living body, so I don’t need proof of life anymore. I’m being a gentleman by keeping you alive, you see? So don’t piss me off.”

“That’s not bein’ a fuckin’ gentleman.”

A gasp parts your lips and the thug turns to see Bakugo Katsuki standing in the doorway, a littering of unconscious bodies in his wake.

He glares with his ruby red eyes, tilting his head in a way that almost feels patronizing. You want to claw at the hand around your throat but your wrists are still tied down. Your face is damp with a mixture of tears and sweat, your voice trying to project despite the pain of your esophagus.

“S’okay,” Katsuki looks you in the eyes and you believe him.

“You take another step closer and I swear I will blow her brains all over the side of this place,” the man seethes from behind you. As the gun digs deeper into your temple, you whimper, a sob shaking your shoulders.

Bakugo lurches forward at the sound, hand outstretched, “You fucker! Let her the fuck go before I kill you right here!”

The villain smirks, “I thought you were Ground Zero, a pro hero?! You’d dare to taint your pristine record with little ole me? Wow, I’m flattered.”

You shake your head just enough to tell him to back away, and he does so by putting both of his feet on the ground, hands in the air. He’s making eye contact with you again, irises desperate, “You remember that night in the library?”

You blink a few times, taking in what he’s said. What was so significant about that night?

“Remember what you told me?” he leads you, his jaw quivering under the stress of his teeth. “About what your father was afraid of?”

“Oh please!” The man laughs maniacally but you’re not focused on him anymore. Your brain is trying to work, albeit a bit slow, to recall the words you spoke that night. Your eyes track over his face but his mouth is set into a hard line, “The flowers, baby, remember the flowers?”

The villain is mocking Bakugo again, but his voice cuts off in his throat when he feels the tips of his extremities begin to go numb.

Your lower lip is quivering, blood seeping out of your nose at the strain. Tears sit still in your eyes as you manipulate your fingers to try to find the source of the organic material you want to manipulate. You take a gasping breath, eyes straining in your sockets as you pull pressure closer towards you.

“What the-”

Your other hand twists and you hear the crushing sound of his esophagus as you manipulate the blood pumping through his veins. Your body is so unused to the stress of using your quirk that it makes your mouth hang open in hopes of getting enough oxygen to your brain, your bones grating against one another. 

In trying to turn his hand holding the gun away from you, you have to dig deep, imagining the cells in his body so you can manipulate them. The chipping of his bones resonates in your ear, but the pressure of the gun is released from your temple. In turn, you feel a new bout of blood leak from every orifice of your face - eyes, mouth, nose.

Your vision goes black and your ears ring with the sound of an explosion. There are screams in the back of the room, but a quick thud tells you that someone has been rendered helpless.

“Hey,” the voice is calm in front of you, but you can’t turn it off. Your body craves the manipulation of something else, your quirk swirling around you like a dark shadow, begging you to hurt somebody else.

A pair of hands presses to your cheeks and your jaw drops at the contact. You turn your hands and you feel a new patch of skin ghosting under your fingers. The blood pumping through this one is hotter, faster. Your jaw strains as you grind your teeth together in concentration.

You hear Bakugo cough and your vision clears enough to realize that it’s him you have in your quirk’s grasp. Your hands fall to your lap as you relent, a cough parting his mouth as he lurches forward.

Katsuki uses his fingers to wipe the blood off of your face, “Holy hell. You really are a badass.”

You barely have time to register the words before your body passes out from exhaustion.

-

This time, when you roll your head, you’re still held in someone’s arms. You lean your head back and blink blearily, “K-Ka-Suki?”

You hear his voice, but he’s not talking to you. He’s angrily whisper-shouting at someone else you can’t see. You try to raise your arm to touch his face, slap him, whatever it takes to get his attention. Your whole body aches and you just want to go back to sleep.

“I don’t care what you have to move, just fuckin’ move it!” is the last thing that you hear before the silence returns.

You try to call to him again and this time you’re able to make out his eyes as he looks down at you. He’s carrying you somewhere, that much you know, but you’re not quite sure where you’re going. The relief that floods his irises, lightening them, makes your heart flip in your chest.

“Where’re we?” you ask in a slur.

Bakugo chuckles and you hear a door shut, “We’re back home.”

“Home,” you murmur, your head lolling into his chest. What does home mean to you now? Surely it doesn’t mean that big mansion that you’ve been a prisoner in most of your adult life.

You force your hand to inch upward from your lap to his chest, your palm seeking the heat of his body. Sniffling, you breathe in the scent of a fireside and you desperately want to be on a beach, in a hammock, as he holds you tight. Your fist curls around his shirt and he looks down at you again, taking in the pallor of your skin and the way your breath comes in short bursts.

Your body shifts in his arms and you whimper at the loss of contact as he displaces you onto a bed. Your head hits a pillow but you’re trying to sit up right after, grasping in thin air for something of his that you can hold onto.

“Lay down, idiot,” Bakugo grunts in annoyance, pushing you down by the shoulders. “You’re fuckin’ spent. You need to chill.”

Your eyes finally open as you feel your shoes removed from your feet. The way your ankles try to swivel sparks pain behind your eyelids, the raw splotches of skin from struggling against the cuffs more prevalent now than before.

“I told you to fucking chill.”

You do as he says then, your body unable to fight back any longer. You are more focused on trying to keep yourself from becoming a blubbering mess in front of him. Using your quirk took a lot of strength and focus, but now all you want to do is curl into a ball and cry yourself to sleep.

Bakugo’s palm is against your cheek, “I think you need a bath.”

“Mhm,” you can feel the crusted blood on your face and neck, sweat mixed in so your dress sticks to every part of your body it touches.

He chuckles, “I’ll go get Miles.”

“No,” you snatch him by the sleeve, “p-please, don’t go.”

You wince at the exertion of your muscles but the pleading look in your eyes must do it for him because he buckles, “I’ll go run the water.”

It’s another few minutes before he emerges from the bathroom suite to help you to your feet. You sway a little as the warmth from the steam in the room hits you directly in the face. Your eyes cross and he has to steady you with his palms on your waist.

You go to step into the tub still fully clothed when he stops you, “Uh, don’t you think-”

Your eyes can’t focus on anything, so Katsuki presses his palms to both of your cheeks and forces your eyesight to zero in on him. He says something and you reach out to grip his shirt in your hands, fisting the fabric as tight as you can manage in this state.

“D-Do you want my help?” he asks, cheeks burning. You nod, turning so the ties of your dress are where he can reach. You don’t think anything of it as his fingertips hesitate at your back, his palms threatening to burst with nitroglycerin.

Eventually, your dress falls away and you’re left bare in front of him. He takes you by the hand to guide you to the huge tub in the center of the room, full to the brim with warm water and bubbles. You wince as you step into the water, the heat from the bath making your open wounds twinge with pain. Swallowing, you submerge yourself entirely, only your nose to the top of your head remaining visible.

“Shit,” Bakugo swears as the water immediately tinges red with the blood that coated your body. He picks up a rag and gently swipes over your skin.

Bakugo has never considered himself soft. He is not gentle, he is not kind. However, all of his inhibitions about himself completely fly out the window when you’re involved. He’s sure he’s never been this caring with his own body. He winces when he has to scrub particularly hard at certain spots, the mix of blood and sweat cementing patches of red to your skin.

After he’s done with your body, he starts to work on your face. He has to use a new rag, one unsaturated with grime. His fingers are timid as he brushes under your eyes and around your nose and mouth. The pad of his thumb ghosts over your lower lip, his palm flat against your neck. 

Your eyes are wide, pupils blown as you glance up at him. He shakes his head, “I can’t believe you.”

Bakugo has to grab the shower head to work on your hair. You feel his fingers nudging through your tresses for a while before the water turns off and he unplugs the tub. The water retreats from the bath and your shoulders go cold.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, eyes on your face as he helps you stand.

He pats you dry and you fumble around your room for a new set of clothes. As he pulls the shirt over your head, his palms brush your arms and you find yourself wanting to melt into him. You have to fight the trembling of your lower lip when he takes a step back from your; your body is empty at the loss of his touch.

Katsuki grunts, shaking his head, “I-I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you’re able to manage words, your voice hoarse from disuse and exhaustion. You swallow and reach out to him, but he backs away from you.

“I had one job, one thing to do, and I fucked it up. I failed at keeping you safe.” His fists curl up tight in front of him, but you still see the explosions muffled in his grip. He turns his head, “I’m leaving tonight.”

A single tear slips down your cheek and you cradle your arms to your chest, the bright red rings of raw skin easy to see in stark contrast to your dark sleep clothes. Bakugo gets just enough of a glimpse of them and knows that he can’t be here any longer, he can’t watch his failures play on a loop in front of him in the form of you.

“I ran away,” you whisper, looking down at your hands. “I-I did this.”

You allow a sob to break the seam of your lips, your body shuddering so hard that you fall to your knees. You cover your face with your hands, “I’m so sorry, Katsuki. I-I’m so stupid. You’re right, I’m nothing but a dumbass.”

“Hey,” he cradles you at the elbows, “no, don’t do that shit.”

“It’s the truth, and you know it!” You shove at his shoulders meagerly, falling back from the force of your own push. “I should have never run away. I should have listened.”

Katsuki tugs your head forward, cradling your body against his own, “Damn right you should’ve listened to me.”

“I’m sorry, ‘Suki,” you murmur into the skin of his neck.

He tilts your head upward with the gentle tug of your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Bakugo’s mouth is pressed into a fine line as he takes a short breath, “Me too. I shouldn’t have let you get out of my sight.”

A silent pause stretches between the two of you as you look into one another’s eyes, short breath passing through your lips. Katsuki’s hand threads into your hair and his eyes travel to each feature of your face as if he were memorizing it. You turn your face to flatten your mouth against his wrist, his pulse thudding solidly under your lips. The warm aroma that results from his quirk makes you dizzy in the best way; you could get drunk off of the sweet, fiery scent if you let yourself stay this close for too long.

Your eyelashes flutter when he slides you with a hand on your hip so you’re completely in his lap, your knees on either side of his body. He is warm and it is welcoming, your still damp hair sending chills down your spine as the cool breeze of the night sweeps in through the barely open window. 

Finally, his voice breaks, “I-I thought I lost you.”

“Katsu’...” you shake your head and tears well up in your eyes. 

You can’t take it anymore. You tilt your head further upward and press your lips to his. As soon as you arch into him, Katsuki is wrapping his arms around your body, bruising your mouth with the intensity of his kiss. His palms hold you steady - one on the back of your head and the other splayed out across the center of your back.

It is painstakingly quiet, the only sounds echoing off of your walls are the gentle smacking noises your mouths make as you part only to come back together. Your hands can’t get enough of him, searching the planes of his shoulders for somewhere to dig your fingernails into. You gasp as his tongue presses to the seam of your lips, leaving you wide open for him to invade your space.

His whole body is hot, steaming, as he palms at you to keep you close. Your cheeks heat, bright red at the proximity of him. Bakugo angles your head so he can thoroughly map out your mouth with his tongue and teeth.

You pull away just enough to breathe, “I never doubted you, not for a minute.”

Katuki’s eyes are wide, irises blown to hell when he hears those words fall from your lips. His chest constricts and the threat of an explosion curls in the palms of his hands. He has to stamp it down, because he doesn’t want to hurt you, but you do feel the increasing heat on your back.

“I knew you’d find me,” you brush a hand over his cheek, pushing his hair away from his face. You have tears streaming down your face, but he’s sure you’ve never been more beautiful to him than you are now, in this very vulnerable moment.

You chuckle, “You’re my hero.”

A growl opens his lips and you barely get a moment to suck in a breath before he’s devouring you again.

He’s been labeled a hero by his school, by the media, by a costume designer. He has an agent and a PR team and a set of sidekicks he’s training. He’s getting money, fame, and yet - in this moment, you uttering those words, releases something primal in him. The need to protect you washes over him like a wave - how did he think he could ever trust anyone else with your care? Would any of them try to keep you safe as ferociously as he would? 

“I’m not leavin’ your fuckin’ side,” he mumbles as his mouth trails over your jaw, fingers tugging on your hair gently to get you to bare your throat to him. His tongue swipes over your jugular and your eyes screw shut, “No one’s taking you from me ever again.”

Your mouth hangs open, pants of needy air puffing out of your lips. You hold him by the back of his head, fingers wound in his hair, egging him on. You whimper when he bites the curve of your shoulder, but the way your hips roll forward affirms him that he’s doing something right.

“Fuck,” Bakugo mutters, picking you up with his arms around your waist, “fuckin’ hell.”

Your eyes are trained on him as he walks you to the bed. You watch his eyes dart over the space behind you so he can be sure he’s not bumping you into anything, keeping you safe even now, even as he wants to raw up your little body with his own set of bruises. Your legs stay latched around his waist, tugging him closer to you when it feels like he may pull away. 

Kastuki shakes his head, “I’m right here.”

Tears well up in the corner of your eyes from the softness of his voice alone; you don’t know what you would have done if he hadn’t been the one to find you. Your hands palm at his face, thumbing over his cheekbones to try and memorize the layout of his face like a blueprint.

“Shh,” he hushes you, leaning down to kiss either of your eyelids, “stop cryin’, dummy.”

“You were right,” you shake your head as the realization dawns over you. “You can’t stay. You have other, better things to do. Your job isn’t to babysit me, Katsuki. You need to be a hero. You ne-”

Another kiss cuts your rambling short, his mouth harsh when he tugs on your lips. His teeth nip at your lower lip, “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Both of his palms slide under your shoulders, pushing you with the heels of his hands so your chest is pressed completely to him, his body aching to feel your own. He kisses you until your mouth is aching, your chest begging for breath. Your wrists and ankles start to burn, the reminder of your eventful night biting at your skin like an animal.

You wince and Bakugo pulls away, searching your face for the reason of your sudden movement.

“Oh shit,” he lowers you back to the mattress, tugging on your arms so he can unwrap your bandages to inspect your wounds.

Once he sees the injuries, his body begs to light on fire again, his rage bubbling like acid in his stomach. His lip curls into a snarl and he squeezes his eyes shut, your bloody body projected onto the backs of his eyelids.

“Will you stay with me?”

Your request interrupts his self-deprecating thoughts. He can see the glistening of tears on your face, feel the quivering of your body as your nerves get the better of you. Bakugo wants to protest, he wants to tell you that he needs to blow off some steam, but with the gentle pout and quiver of your lip, he’s completely forgotten his desire to blow a hole in every bad guy he can find tonight.

Katsuki wraps your wrists back in the bandages, taping them securely before leaning back, glancing over you as if it were the last time he would ever see you.

Before you can protest or start rambling again, he lowers himself down to curl around your body, holding your head to his chest. You cradle your arms between the two of you, looking down at your fingers.

“My father was right,” you swallow, curling your hands to fists. “I-I wanted to kill that guy. I...I almost hurt you.”

Bakugo nudges his knee against your thigh, “As if, I just didn’t want to blast your head off.”

You want to laugh, but the sound is stuck in your throat. He senses your hesitation and tilts your head back with his thumb under the sensitive patch of skin just beneath your chin, “Hey. You did what you had to do. Power is hard to control sometimes.”

He kisses your forehead, your skin smoothing under his warm mouth. You attempt to keep your lips from quivering with the threat of tears, “My quirk is scary, Katsuki.”

“Everything is scary if you let it scare you,” he mumbles, nudging his nose over your own. Your eyes flutter shut and you turn so you can kiss him again. He chuckles against your lips, “You scare me, sometimes. Or rather, the idea of you.”

You know that he’s just affirming what you’ve said - of course you’re scary. You have a quirk that allows you to manipulate a person’s body. You can snap someone’s neck with a simple twist of your wrist.

“Not like that, stupid,” Bakugo nips your jaw to keep you out of your own head. He takes a deep breath and slips his palm between yours, curling his fingers against your knuckles. “I mean, you hold me so high, when you look at me, I get scared. I can’t live up to this idea of what you think I can do. I’m not this perfect hero, I’m not this great guy.”

He licks his lips, “I want to burn everyone I’m with so they’ll stay away, but you’re different. And that scares the shit out of me.”

Your mouth parts at his declaration, words hanging on your tongue. You’re not sure how to respond. Bakugo loved seeing your quirk when it was being used on flowers and fruit, but now that it was used on a person - how did that not frighten him? How was it the way you looked at him that shook him to his core, and not the reality that you could snatch his blood vessels from his body, that you can control his muscles that sit under his skin?

“I told you, baby, you’re a badass. Okay? How could I ever get scared of someone who pushes me to be better?” Bakugo is smiling now, genuinely grinning, and that takes all of your nerves and pushes them away. You mimic his expression, squeezing his palm with gentle pressure so as to not aggravate your wounds. 

“Now, c’mon, you little shit, close your eyes and get some sleep.” Bakugo tucks your head under his chin as he toes off his boots, kicking them off the bed. His mouth is in your hair, muffled as he speaks, “Or else I’ll knock you out myself, got it?”

“Sir yes sir,” you say through a yawn.

His body tenses under your words and he seethes, “Careful with that.”

You smirk, nipping your teeth against the thin skin of his neck just over his jugular, “Yes sir.”

“Ah, fuckin’ hell.”

-

a/n: lol i am so mean i’m sorry! also.. if you would like a part two, lemme know and i’ll consider it :-) 

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[petri808]

We’ll Take Back Heaven a Nalu Yakuza Au

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A loud slam of the organization’s front door caused Levy McGarden to pop her head out of her own office. Curious, she walked down the hallway and saw a light on in her boss’s, Lucy Heartfilia. Had the noise been Lucy returning? That was strange because it was too early for the woman to be back so soon. The party should have kept Lucy out of the office until morning. Levy knocked at the cracked door before entering.

“Lu, why are you here? Are you okay?” Levy quickly added when she saw her boss’s forehead leaning on the table. “Did you drink too much?”

“No… I ran into Natsu, and we had a fight,” Lucy answered without lifting her head. “He just makes me so angry sometimes, so I stormed out of there.”

“Aww, Lu.” Levy walked over and put a hand on her friend’s head. “I’m sorry.” Both Lucy and Natsu were childhood friends of hers, so she knew the history between them. It was just like a made for television movie plot and hard to stay neutral in at times because she loved them both. “Do you wanna talk about it? Need a drink?”

Having heard the loud noise, another associate Cana Alberona also came looking for the source and stumbled upon the beginnings of the conversation. “Did I hear the word drink?” She popped her head into the office. “Oh, baby what’s wrong??” She questioned at seeing Lucy upset. Cana quickly joined Levy next to their friend. “Who do I gotta kill?”

“It’s just Natsu,” Lucy mumbled. “So, no killing.”

“Oh… him.” Cana plopped her butt onto Lucy’s desk. “Ya sure? I bet I could get one of my girls to take him out of your misery.”

“He wouldn’t be interested,” Levy piped in.

“Right… he’s still—”

Lucy sat up groaning, cutting them off. “That’s enough. I really don’t wanna think about that shit right now.”

“Fine, fine, then drinks it is. Relax, babe,” Cana playfully pushed on Lucy’s shoulder before plopping off the desk. “Then you’re gonna dish about tonight.” Cana always kept a stock of liquors at her desk. So, she grabbed a bottle of high quality flavored junmai daiginjo sake, glasses and set the girls up for a gossiping session.

It was reasons like this that really spoke to the heart of their organization. Everyone in the top level of this girl’s gang had known each other from childhood or high school. They were close, a found family of sisters who all had one thing in common— a real dislike for Japan’s outdated notions of gendered norms, well that and a desire to make money. But not in a conventional way. None of them wanted to work a boring office job only to what, be subservient to the male status quo? No, thank you. So, it had been Lucy who’d first approached everyone with the idea of creating their own high-end crime organization. It was amusing at first to think about an all-girl gang similar to the Yakuza… Oh, they all knew why Lucy came up with the idea to spite Natsu and the Yakuza’s rules, but it was an appealing idea. Everyone except for Levy’s family had some kind of ties to the Yakuza, so they were in essence raised in the lifestyle without ever being able to be a part of it because of their sex.

Together they brought their strengths into play and under Lucy’s business savvy thanks to her father, within just a short couple of years they were on the road to making a real name for themselves. Levy McGarden was at the heart of the organization as a tech person, and her skills in computer language is the reason they’re able to control a massively successful money laundering operation. Cana Alberona had great people skills, so she handled the escort services. Another, Erza Scarlet was the security expert who oversaw anything to do with the protection of their assets and employees. She also kept contacts with law enforcement. Mira Strauss handled the bookkeeping and financial side, and finally Juvia Lockser managed their soapland operation. Lucy herself held everything together but was the face of the group when dealing with knew contacts and clientele. Six primary women running the organization with underlings or regular staff to manage, they were nicknamed the Yosei girls because of the various fairy-type tattoos they all had somewhere on their bodies. Lucy preferred not to show hers to outsiders, but it was a pair of fanciful fairy-like wings that took up a large portion of her upper back. Natsu used to call her his angel back in the day…

The three girls sat huddled around Lucy’s desk after Levy dragged over a couple extra chairs.

“Seriously?” Cana knocked back a shot of sake and planted it on the table. “So, you didn’t have a chance to hit any marks?”

“Nope.” Lucy sipped from her glass. “Sure, I talked to some people, but I never made it past my first cocktail. He even blocked me from getting some action tonight from the hot bartender.”

Cana cringed. “That’s even worse!”

Levy giggled at her friend, “of course, you’d take offense to that Cana instead of the job.”

“Well,” Cana shrugged nonchalantly, “girls gotta take care of needs too, right? And if he was hot, that’s a real shame.”

The comment sent both Levy and Lucy into a giggle fit. Lucy may have started this out irritated but leave it to her friends to bring her out of her despair.

“Oh,” Lucy sighed and finished her glass, “the guy Loke was a total playboy too. Perfect for a no strings attached night.”

“Loke?” Cana questioned. “Orange hair and glasses?”

“You know him?— of course, you know him,” Lucy chuckled. “Why am I surprised.”

“I’ve seen him at other parties bartending. Flirts with all— the pretty girls. Very easy to get into bed, and not bad while in it. I got his number if you want it.”

“Natsu scared him pretty bad. I think Loke recognized him.”

“Hmm, that’s possible too. But hey, what Natsu doesn’t know…”

“Oh, my Kami, Cana! You are just too much sometimes!”

“Hey, just tryin’ to help out my bestie here,” she winked.

“Nah, I’m not in the mood tonight, Natsu really killed my joy.”

“He really thought that the guys there were gossiping about you?” Levy questioned. “Just because you didn’t have an escort?”

“Yeah, and you know even if he was right, he didn’t need to be a dick about it.”

Levy sighed, “he was probably right. It sucks, but that level of men, they look down on women like us. You provide a service, so to them they’re still using you which makes you beneath them.”

“And how dare a woman show up without a man by her side,” Cana rolled her eyes. “Oh well, less guilt for me when I’m taking their money,” she laughed.

Levy and Lucy laughed too, then Lucy raised a glass. “To taking their money! Cheers!”

“Cheers!” The girls clinked their glasses together and shot down their drinks.

“Speaking of escorts, how are things going Cana?” Lucy asked. They called their employees escorts because that’s the only service they provided. Think of them like high-end modern geisha without the traditional look. Their employed women provided companionship for events or business executives trying to look good and we’re trained well in hospitality, etiquette, and such to keep their dates happy. The women were highly compensated for what they did, so it was very lucrative for everyone. Sex was forbidden on the job and if a client ever tried to pressure an escort or roughed them up, they would be immediately barred from the service. However, if the infraction were bad enough, that’s when Erza would step in and handle things. The group was lucky this rarely took place because the male clientele they had wouldn’t want the shame of embarrassment either.

“Going great. We’re already getting booked up for the holidays and that still 4 months away. I guess they wanna make sure they can get certain girls before it’s too late.”

“Suckers.” Lucy snickered. “We’re using their own social norms against them, and they don’t even realize it.”

Between the three friends, they drank about half the bottle before slowing down. The conversation switched between work related topics, private lives, and back to Natsu until Lucy would switch the topic again. She knew of her buddy’s willful infatuation in her decades old battle with the man, but she just wasn’t in the mood to talk about it. Lucy still had a lot to process privately about the issues and though she loved Cana as a sister, Levy was the only one she’d really tell her deepest feelings to and now wasn’t the time to rehash anything. A few hours passed by when a knock at the door came. Another of their group was dropping by before heading out to work.

“Hey Juvia!” The three tipsy girls giggle at the same time.

“Wanna join us?” Cana questioned.

“Juvia would but she needs to check on Faerieland.”

“How is our soapland operation doing? Any problems I need to know about?” Lucy asked Juvia. The Faerieland bathhouse was the lowest level of their operations since flesh services were considered distasteful. But nevertheless, it was a highly profitable and legal one. What set them apart from all the others was the high-end quality of services offered to guests, providing both male and/or female “bathers” that clients could pay extra for to have a sexual experience. However, for that service, the client was required to be vetted by an inhouse doctor prior to a booking to make sure they were free of STD’s. Again, that was just one reason Faerieland was considered so high end and very exclusive. Some might have found it inconvenient, but most of the regulars appreciated the health factor. It’s what kept them coming back. All the employed bathers were screened regularly by an in-house doctor, and contrary to societal belief, were there by their own choice. So, the combination of anonymity, safety, and level of service kept the soapland business running with very little down times in between.

Juvia shook her head. “No problems, just busy due to the heat this time of year. Private bookings are scheduled out into next month.”

“That’s good to hear,” Levy smiled. “It’s nice that things have been running so smoothly.”

“Agreed,” Cana and Lucy chimed in.

“There is one thing Juvia should tell Lucy.” Her voice lowered, hesitant. “Mr. Natsu has an appointment booked for the end of the month. And he… just made it tonight.”

Lucy rolled her eyes and her voice dripped with irritation. “So, who’d he sign up to bang?”

“Nobody. Mr. Natsu only booked the deluxe bath and massage package. No sex.”

“Oh—” Lucy caught her surprise before she could show it, waving her hand nonchalantly as if she didn’t care. “W-well good for him. Not that I care if we’re making money of it.”

“Juvia is so relieved! She was worried you wouldn’t like him using our bath house.”

“It’s rare that he does,” Cana tapped her chin. “Hmmm, I wonder why he made the appointment tonight of all days…”

Levy slapped Cana on the arm, glaring at the woman to behave and Juvia just stood there wide-eyed and confused.

“What?!” Cana laughed. “I thought it was funny.”

“Ha-Ha,” Lucy mocked Cana. “What Natsu does is his own business and it’s not like he was trying to relieve himself tonight, the appointment is what, two and half weeks or so away? I’m not gonna lose sleep over it.”

“Okay… Juvia is confused but needs to go. Someone can fill Juvia in tomorrow.”

“Sorry, Juvia,” Levy apologized for the others. “I’ll fill you in later. But don’t worry! Everything is okay.”

“That’s good. Well then. Goodnight, everyone!” Juvia waved as she left the office.

“Goodnight!” The three waved.

“Cana,” Lucy reignited the debated now that Juvia was gone. “I don’t care if Natsu sleeps with other women, how can I when I have no problem sleeping with other men. We’re not a couple. But what does irritate me is that of all the bathhouses to choose, why mine??”

“It’s probably because of our services…” Levy threw in to diffuse the tension. “We do provide the best.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lucy sighed, “it just— it feels like he’s doing it on purpose.”

“You know I’m just teasing you, Lucy.” Cana retorted. “But I think you’re also reading too much into it. He’s a guy and history has shown a clueless one when it comes to women, so I doubt he’s masterminded going to the bathhouse as a way to irritate you.”

Lucy exhaled. “You guys are probably right. I guess I’m just still too wound up because of the party.”

“Maybe what you need to do is to unwind Lu,” Levy suggested.

Lucy sat back for a moment mulling over the idea. Yeah, maybe she should. It sure as hell wouldn’t hurt. Maybe let off some steam and stop thinking about Natsu, and a one-night fling could do just that. “You know what…” she turned to Cana with a new resolve. “What’s Loke’s number?”

Cana whipped out her phone. “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!”

[justanotherblonde23]

You Can’t Please Everyone - A Marcus Moreno Story

Author’s Note: Welcome to Part 3 of my Marcus Moreno and Doctor Iris Moreno one shot series! This wasn’t originally the one I planned on releasing today, but I was going through it last night and @autumnleaves1991-blog​ suggested that I write my feelings out and let it all pour into my writing. She was right, I felt so much better afterwards. Still no descriptions for what Dr. Moreno looks like, I want you to feel like you can see yourself as her <3 Thank you all for your love and encouragement, I really appreciate it. 

Warnings: angst, crying, parental problems, hurt/comfort, pregnancy mentions, language

Let me know what you think, what you’d like me to write next, want to be on a tag list for this series, etc. I want to interact with you all! 

Iris opened the front door, trying her best to be quiet; she didn’t want to wake the kids. If Marcus got the timing right, their girls should have just finished their bedtime routine and have settled in for the night. She took her jacket off, hanging it up in the coat closet. All she wanted was to grab a glass of wine and curl up and have a good cry. Unfortunately, being pregnant meant no alcohol, so she would soldier through with a good cry in the shower, maybe. 

Her heels clacked on the stairs. She went slowly, her heart and mind weary. Both girls had their doors open a crack, the universal sign that they wanted kisses and to be tucked in by momma, too, even if she came home a bit late. The drowsy kisses and ‘I love yous’ filled her with joy, covering the ache just a little. She knew that no matter what went wrong throughout the day, she would always be coming home to two precious little girls that loved her dearly. At this point, she couldn’t even imagine life without them. 

Marcus was right where she expected him to be, in bed curled up with a good book. It still blew her away every time she stopped and realized that he was hers, and she was his. Being his wife, it was bliss in every sense of the word. She hadn’t expected him to propose; how could she when his last marriage ended the way it did? Iris would have been happy to be with him forever in any way that he’d have her, but she had to admit that she had wanted to be his wife. She had changed her name as fast as humanly possible, for the thought of being Dr. Moreno filled her with pride. He had suggested keeping her last name or maybe hyphenating it after he proposed. He knew how hard she had worked to make that name worth something, and he didn’t want to take that away from her. She had appreciated the gesture, but she insisted that her work was her own, no matter her last name. She wanted to share everything with Marcus Moreno, including his last name. 

The man in question looked up, giving her one of his earth-shattering smiles, the one that made her feel as if she was the center of his universe. How could she not melt when his soft brown eyes held her gaze, baring his soul to her? She loved this beautiful man with every breath she took. 

He frowned when he noticed her eyes had welled with tears, leaving black mascara tracks down her cheeks. Silently, he stood up, gently unzipping her dress for her and helping her into a shirt of his that she loved to wear to bed. He knew that she would talk to him when she was ready. He would wait her out; it was better not to press her. Marcus led her into the bathroom, sitting her up on the counter while he cleaned her face with a warm washcloth and makeup remover. With each tender swipe of the washcloth, more tears fell. He could feel her shaking underneath him, the silent sobs giving way to heaving gasps.

Once he finished washing her face, he cradled her in his arms, carrying her back to their bed. He settled her on his lap, her legs straddling his hips, arms wound around his neck, face tucked in next to his own. The closer he could get to her, the better he knew she’d be able to feel. His hand snaked under the shirt, rubbing soothing circles on her back, fingers pressing patterns into her spine. He whispered words of comfort in his wife’s ear, willing her to hear what he was saying. Darling, I love you. I’m here for you; you’re not alone. Let it all out, baby. It’s okay to cry. Don’t keep it all stuffed inside; just cry it out. Missy loves you, Jules loves you, I love you. He went on and on, pouring his love and adoration into her. Eventually, her tears subsided, and she was ready to talk. She pulled back a bit so that she could look into those kind eyes of his that never judged her or made her feel less than. 

“Dinner with my dad was a disaster, Marcus, it was horrible. I should’ve known it would be bad, but I was hoping that this time might be different.” 

He nodded sympathetically; her relationship with her father was complicated. That man was manipulative, two-faced, selfish, and frankly a terrible parent. He had never approved of their relationship, blatantly refusing to even come to their wedding, insisting that they’d be getting a divorce at some point anyway. No matter how happy they were together, that man was always finding something to nitpick. If it wasn’t the age gap, it was the fact that Iris had stepped up and filled the spot of mother that the girls had so desperately needed. He hated their jobs, their house, the fact that they were individuals with enhanced abilities. Marcus couldn’t think of a situation where he had ever said anything positive about, well, anything. 

Despite all of this, he knew that Iris still loved him, still cared about him, and desperately wanted some type of relationship with him. She was the kindest person that Marcus had ever met. Her passion for people, her ability to truly empathize with others and try to help them heal was inspiring. He had never seen anything like it. He had seen it firsthand with his girls. She poured every ounce of love and devotion into them, treating them as if she had given birth to them herself. She said time and again that there was no difference to her. They were her girls just as much as they were his, and she loved them as such. That love and care extended to her father, too, no matter how many times he hurt her. 

“What did he do, honey?” he was hesitant to ask. Marcus knew that he would get mad at her father and have to rein himself in. He hated to see his wife hurting like this, and it made his blood boil. No one should cause her this much turmoil, especially someone that was her parent. 

“The whole thing was just a mess from the start. Dad was giving the poor waitress a hard time the second she came to the table. You know when he acts like he’s funny, but actually, he’s just rude? He was playing that game. I tried to talk him off the ledge and get him to bring it back in a bit. You should’ve seen her face, Marcus. She was petrified. Every time she came to the table, I could see the apprehension in her eyes. I tried to make sure that I was as nice to her as humanly possible to make up for him. Jesus Marcus, he should know better. I bartended to help mom with money when she was sick, for goodness sake. I was just like that poor girl all through med school and up until I got hired at Heroics HQ. You’d think he’d be willing to consider that.” 

He shook his head, placing a kiss on her forehead, not interrupting her as she spoke. He knew that Iris needed to get it all out before he chimed in. 

“Then he realized that I didn’t order any wine and commented on that, and oh fuck Marcus; it just came out. I just blurted out that I wasn’t drinking because we’re having a baby. He fucking laughed at me, told me not to joke about shit like that. When he figured out that I was serious, he was furious. He told me that I made a mistake, that this baby would just tie me down. He told me that this was a sign that it was time to give up my career and commit to being a mother. I just- I can’t believe everything he said. He went on and on about how I was finally having a real kid of my own as if Missy and Jules aren’t mine, and how it was unfortunate that this baby was yours. I thought that maybe he’d be happy that he’d be excited, but it was a shit show. He didn’t ask how far along I was or anything. I don’t know why I even do this anymore, why I even hope for his approval. It’s a battle I’m never going to win, so why even try? And fuck, these pregnancy hormones are making me so goddamn emotional. I couldn’t even make it through the main course. I made up a work emergency and left. I’m hurting, I’m fucking starving, and I just want to curl up and call it a night.” 

There was silence for a few moments, Iris once again hiding her face in the crook of Marcus’ shoulder. He wished he could physically take the pain away, that he could take her heart in his hands and cradle it to his chest, protecting it from everything that threatened to break it. It killed him to see her like this, and it wasn’t fair; she didn’t deserve this. It didn’t help that at 12 weeks, her pregnancy was beginning to take a toll on her. It was always tricky for enhanced individuals to carry a child, even more so when the child was also enhanced. It just made everything a bit more complicated. He hadn’t seen it up close himself before. His ex hadn’t had powers. To see Iris suffering and struggling with harsher than average symptoms tore at his heartstrings. They were both so excited to have this little one; it would just be a bit more challenging.  

“Baby, I’ll be right back. I’m gonna grab a few things, get comfy okay?” 

Marcus hated untangling himself from her, but he knew what might make her feel a bit better. She let out a noncommittal grunt, letting him know that she heard him. He quickly went down to the kitchen, grabbing supplies. He put everything on a tray, double-checking that he had what he needed before going back up to the bedroom. He set the tray on the bed, earning a grin from his darling wife. 

“Okay, so you said you were hungry; I thought I’d grab the things you’ve been craving recently. I’ve got a bowl of butter pecan ice cream with strawberry sauce, the whipped cream from a can, and crumbled up potato chips with a side of frozen Reese’s peanut butter cups and that guava juice you started liking last week. Oh, and a grilled cheese that I made earlier and put in the fridge. I know you like them cold right now. I’m not gonna question it. I’m sorry you didn’t even get to eat anything when you went for dinner, but this might be even better.” 

He settled into bed next to Iris, putting the tray on her lap. The giggle of delight that left her mouth made him feel warm inside. He watched her dig into the ice cream, telling him about the new developments that she was working on for his katanas, how she wanted to adjust the grips a certain way, and asking for his input. There she was, his wife was crawling back out of the pain and the hurt. He adored her enthusiasm for science and invention. She always had some idea or other to improve his weaponry and armor. He could listen to her passionately explaining her thoughts and ideas for the rest of his life, and he’d never get bored. 

By the time she finished, the disaster of a dinner had been wholly forgotten. Marcus got up, placing the tray on the dresser. He’d deal with it in the morning. They spent another hour talking, cuddling, and holding each other tightly. After a while, he noticed that Iris began to nod off, her eyelids struggling to stay open. He adjusted their position so that they were lying down, and his love was wrapped securely in his arms. She fell into sweet slumber to the sound of Marcus murmuring sweet nothings in her ear and his hand rubbing her tummy, holding her and their baby close. She may not be able to please everyone, but she had Marcus, their two girls, and this baby. In the end, that was everything. It was all she needed.  

Tag list: @autumnleaves1991-blog​ @madness-roses​ @bisexual-space-slut​ @dindjarindiaries​ @frannyzooey​ @cinewhore​ @revolution-starter​ @mrschiltoncat​ @softpedropascal​ @paniclana​ @jollyrancher87​ @hdlynnslibrary​ @maybege​ @corrupt-fvcker​ @cyaredindjarin​ @magicsuperheroes​ @flightlessangelwings​ @itspdameronthings @fallingoutofthe1975​ @thestreamergirl​

[vienna-fae]

Star Wars OC Basic Profile

Name: Menthu Darzi

Age: Depends on the rp. I usually write him when he’s in his twenties. In the fanfiction he’s in it takes place in an alternate universe during the Clone Wars. 

Sexual Orientation/Romantic Orientation: homosexual/homoromantic 

Homeplanet: Waset (an original planet I based off Ancient Egypt. Will make a post on this. I wanted to be an Egyptologist when I was in high school, so I did many deep dives on this subject. I still watch a lot of documentaries and read articles). 

Species: Human 

Skin Tone: Copper 

Height: 5’9

Weight: 160 ibs. 

Face Shape: Oval 

Eye Color: Dark Brown 

Hair Color: Black 

Hair Type: Straight with a slight wave

Hair Length: Short

Body Type: Mesomorph 

Personality Type: ESFP-A

Overall Personality: He is loyal to a fault. If he cares about someone then he is a ride or die. He’ll do anything for the ones he loves (even if it means putting himself in danger). This means that he’s very brave, but he’s reckless and can be impulsive. 

Menthu is very hardworking. 

He’s kind of a hopeless romantic. He doesn’t show that side of himself to anyone unless they’re his s/o or a close friend. 

Due to the mental and psychological abuse his stepfather subjected him to because of his (Menthu’s) homosexuality, Menthu is insecure about his masculinity. He feels guilty when he feels an emotion that isn’t traditionally acceptable. He felt guilty about crying at his mom’s funeral. 

Talents: Singing

Skills: Can use a blaster, Basic self-defense, Can do clothes mending (fix a button, fix rips and tears in clothes), Mixology

Goals: to gain custody of his half-sister, have a happy and fulfilling life.

Family: Mutny Darzi (mother, deceased), Nephythys Darzi (younger half-sister, alive), Thutmose Perneb (father, deceased), Ausar Rezk (step-father, MIA) 

Occupation: Bartender and singer

Love Interest(s): I ship him with Sifo-Dyas and would prefer to have any romantic rps done with Sifo. If you want to ship him with another canon character or OC in an rp that is okay, just make sure the character is male. I won’t do any romantic rps with anyone under 18.

Childhood and Youth: 

Age 0-8: Menthu was born to teenage parents (both were seventeen). His mother, Mutny, was beginning her career as a jewelry maker. His father, Thutmose, was an up and coming architect.  When Menthu was eight, he realized he was gay. He told his parents, and they accepted him.

Age 11: Thutmose is accidentally killed when he tried to break up a fight in a bar. Mutny then begins to teach him how to do laundry along with basic cooking and mending skills. She taught him these things because she would have to work longer hours (she wouldn’t be around as much to do laundry or cook so he had to learn those skills) and taught him basic mending skills because since Mutny was the only one working in the household, sometimes there wasn’t enough money to afford to buy new clothes.

Age 16: Menthu’s mother gets remarried to a man named Ausar (for financial reasons and social pressure for her to get remarried). He is emotionally abusive towards Menthu because of the later’s homosexuality. Mutny tried to stop the abuse (rebuking Ausar when ever he’d say homophobic things towards her son, witholding affection, etc.) despite this, Menthu ended up moving out. Mutny did find her son a place to live, and gave him a job working at her jewelry shop. 

Age 18: Menthu’s younger half-sister Nephthys is born. Mutny develops severe postpartum depression to the point that she couldn’t really get out of bed. Ausar refuses to care for Nephthys because he viewed it as unmanly. Menthu stepped up to the plate and took care of his half-sister. When Mutny got better, Menthu moved back to the family friend’s house. 

Age 21: Mutny dies in her sleep from bacterial meningitis. Menthu is the one that discovers that she died. He, Ausar, and Nephthys have to go and get tested to see if any of them had contracted it. 

While at the testing site, it was revealed that the outbreak of bacterial meningitis was a bio terrorist attack on Waset that had been carried out by The Commerce Guild (Shu Mai was furious with the pharaoh of Waset because he would not allow the guild to come in and exploit the planet’s resources). It was also discovered that Nephthys was very force sensitive (baby girl has 13,500 midichlorians per cell). Since Ausar didn’t want to take care of Nephthys anymore, he signed away his parental rights to her and she was taken to the temple. This infuriated Menthu because he’d basically raised her, and he told the town that Ausar had given Nephthys away to the Jedi. Since it’s very taboo on Waset for parents/caregivers to give away the Jedi (force sensitives on the planet are expected to go into the priesthood to serve pharaoh. If it’s discovered that a parent/caregiver gave away their child to The Jedi Order, they could be killed by a mob) Ausar fled the area. 

After Ausar ran away, Menthu buried his mother and made arrangements to leave Waset and go to Coruscant to get Nephthys back. He ends up going with a smuggler who ends up taking advantage of him. 

When he gets to Coruscant, he’s able to find work at a bar/club where he bartends on some nights and sings on the weekends. 

[theyanderespecialist]

Stripper Dear 3 (Mini Series) Valentino X Marie OC X Stolas

[Back with another part of stripper dear and this one will now have stolas in it for reasons we hope you all enjoy this chapter!] [This Has Turned More Into A Mini series Now so.) 

(Marie pov)

I managed to get out from Vals arms as I wince. My body was in so much pain, and I could see some of the bruises. I wouldn't mind if it was because we agreed to rough sex, but he never did say it would be that rough and it was because he got angry. I stepped into the shower washing myself and washing everything I could out of me just for comfort and cleanliness sake before walking out. The entire time I questioned my decision on moving in, on even working for that overgrown moth. I walked into the club to grab my purse when I see a familiar face looking around as I walk over.

"Hey Stolas." I said as he turned around perking up. "Oh there you are, I was looking for you, say, look at this." He said pulling out his phone as I smiled.

Every time he came here he'd show me and anyone else who'd look pictures of him and his daughter, although most of the time she was on her phone, or looked like it was a chore, you could tell she was smiling slightly.

"Oh that's very cute Stolas, did she get a new Hair cut?"

"Yes she di--" he stopped as I looked confused as I noticed his eyes were on my shoulder as my jacket was slipping off my arm showing the bruises as I quickly grab the sleeve and pull it up.

"Don't worry Stolas it's nothing." I said, not wanting him to ask questions

"It is clearly something." he says and takes my hand and looks at the bruise. "These are not love bites." He notes. "These are from someone using far to much force on you."

I tried to pull back a bit when he tried to look as he stopped.

"What happened?"

"..."

"..I'd like to rent a room for the day." He said suddenly.

"Your money man." The bartender said as he took me dragging me to the Vip rooms.

"We will sit here for as long as it takes." I stayed quiet for five minutes before realizing he was serious.

"Just... Val ...convinced me to have sex.. at first I did it b-because I didn't want to lose my job, then he was nice and kind but the second time.. he grabbed me in anger so hard it felt l-like he'd break a bone.."

He took my hands in his. "I am sorry my dear. That should have never happen. You deserve someone who would never hurt especially out of anger." He speaks softly

I looked down as I tried not to cry as he placed a hand on me as I grabbed him, holding him close. He always was a loyal and kind customer.

"What happened to make him so angry?"

".....I-It..I-I.."

"it's okay you don't have to--"

"I-I thought of you...and said it aloud without knowing.."

He blushed at that but smiled. "It is okay to think of someone else. May you tell me what you were thinking?" He asks and I blush darkly.

I shook my head, unable to even speak. There's no way. I'm not saying what I thought. "Oh come on do share."

"...I-I just.. felt you'd be ..better you're much kinder... a-and you wouldn't hold my job over my head.."

He smiled and cupped my cheeks then leaning down and kissing me. I blushed darkly as I let out a soft moan into the kiss as I wanted to kiss back but I was worried..then again he was so soft with it, stroking my face. It was so soft and loving in comparison to Val when he first kissed me.

I quickly wrap my arms around him kissing him back

He laid back with me on top of him and he smiles up at me. "Take as much as control as you need my love." He says and that sent excitement into me.

I looked at him shocked and excited as I bit my lip. "You mean it?" I asked as he looked at me.

(Well he may be a power bottom but he's still a bottom XD

(XD Yup)

"I mean it with all my heart." He tells me and I straddle his chest and then lean down to his neck biting and sucking gently. I felt so empowered.

It was nice..I never had any control., I didn't choose who I stripped for, the clothes I wore, I didn't really even get a choice to move in with Val, and here he is giving me control. I hear him let out soft sighs (I can't imagine feathers are something fun to suck on, but she don't care XD) I smile at him as my nails lightly run down his chest.

(we know Marie gonna tease this poor bird XD)

I then get off of him. "Get up and strip for me~" I order no one ever strip for me.

(XD and get a show out of it XD)

He looked at me shocked as i briefly worried he wasn't into it as I went to say he didn't have to before seeing his shock turn to one of happiness as sat me down as I felt happy once more as I watch him slowly stripping his clothes as I watch blushing but still sat tall as I lick my lip.

He smirked and rolled his hips to the music and soon her was stripped and I was in awe. I watch him as he slowly leans down to me and starts giving me a lap dance.

I blush but smirk at him. Sure it was a little awkward due to the..pretty massive height difference, but it didn't change anything, maybe actually make me feel more in control, as I grab him as he blushed but also smirked. I then pin him down and straddle his naked body and grind myself on him teasingly.

He let out a goran as I smirked at him. "Do you want to put it in~?" I asked smirking at him as he groaned nodding. "I don't know..I ran out of my birth control.. I didn't have to worry with Val, he can't have kids, but you, well you can~" I tease rubbing him between my lips. (Oh poor stolas)

"Please mistress~!" He begs arching into me before pulling back

I smirk leaning down and kissing his beak. "And why should I~? Convince me~" I said as I stroked his face. I was enjoying this power, but I didn't want to be mean, of course I'd let him put it in, he does want to.

He starts to kiss down my body than lifted me to be on his face and began to eat me out like a good sub. I moaned loudly as it obviously was full of need, but it was also so loving with him stroking my thighs as I let out a moan.

"G-Good boy~ y-You make me cum and you c-can put it in and take control~" I moan.

He lap even more focusing on my clit and I knew I would not last long

I grip his feathers as I tense suddenly as I came as I moaned, rubbing myself into his face to ride it out.

(he's talented with his mouth XD)

(XD Yes he is XD)

I get off of him and he smiles. "My turn~" He says and then spread my legs wide and Lined himself up with oh my he was even bigger than Val.

I felt a little afraid but we did make a deal, and he was so sweet to let me take control, so I had no issue with this. I give him a small nervous smile as he looked at me.

"oh, before we start, here this may help." he said as he took his cape, folding it up and helping to place it under me to elevate my hips slightly.

(I mean, that's his inner parent just like "Okay we don't want you hurt, we want you comfortable" XD)

(Stolas pov)

(He is a sweetie XD)

I smiled at her getting her comfortable and then slowly start to inch inside her. She moaned and arched into me. Gripping my hand gently. I smile and soon am fully seated inside of her. She catches her breath clenching around me. I held her hand in mine, lifting it to my lips. I didn't mind waiting for her to get used to me before I continued as my other hand pulled off her jacket, her shirt and her bra as I trace the bruises as she flinched as I frown.

I will kill him for hurting her like this. I will indeed. I loved her for so long I cannot stand by and let her be hurt like this.

"Please stolas...~" She moans. "Make love to me~"

I stopped at that as I then smirk as I kissed her, slowly pulling out to make sure she was in fact comfortable with me moving as she let out a bit of a shaky breath but relaxed as she moaned. "I-I was right~ Y-You f-feel so m-much better..daddy~"

I smile. "Always for you baby girl~ Get ready I am going to make you mine~" I tell her and thrust back in and she meets my thrust and cries out in pure pleasure.

She gripped onto me, her nails digging into me before she let go. "S-Sorry, I-I didn't mean to hurt you i-it just felt so good."

"It is okay, you did it out of pleasure not anger. I am okay with it my dear sweet Marie~" I tell her and she nods clings to me again and I moan picking up my pace and she cries out wrapping her legs around me pulling me even deeper. I grip onto her as I kiss her forehead as I could feel her walls clenching around me as I never felt so good~ I will admit, having sex in a strip club private room was not what I thought when I thought our first time..but I wasn't complaining~ (oh god here we go

"oh you sexy little thing clenching daddy so hard~ Such a good girl feeding daddy your sweet pussy~" He says. "Just what I needed will you let me feed your pussy it's milk~"

(Oh god why..why is that something he'd say XD)

(XD Because it is XD)

(like he would say that XD)

(XD Yes he would XD)

She moaned clenching onto me. "Y-yes~! F-Fill my pussy please~!" She begged clenching onto me. "P-Pour it a-all in daddy~" she moaned out

I smirked and we made love kissing and fucking and when I get right to the edge she cums hard forcing me to cum as well as she screams out my name in ecstasy. We collpase and I kiss her then hear the door bang open and a demonic voice.

"SToLaS!!!"

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS end on a cliff hanger. We hope you all enjoyed and stay sexy our friends!]