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asdfghjklmals · 8 months ago

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GRADUATION✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. mentions mental health. WORD COUNT: 3.4k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc. lover girl!oc. high school lovers.

SYNOPSIS: satoru and oc gojo girlfriend finally graduate from tokyo jujutsu high school! AUTHOR'S NOTE: happy easter and graduation season for those who are graduating this year! 💚 i realized that when i was writing this, oc gojo girlfriend loves satoru so much. i used to write that satoru loved her more, but after this fic, i'm not so sure lol. REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions, please do!

tokyo jujutsu high library

“who’s most likely to be on the bachelor?” you asked your bestfriend, shoko ieiri.

even though he wasn’t graduating this year, you and shoko both said in unison, “kento nanami.”

you giggled at the thought of how uncomfortable nanami would be as a bachelor contestant, “you know nanami would absolutely hate being on the bachelor though.”

shoko nodded her head in agreement while reading the other high school superlatives. “what about life of the party?”

again in unison, “satoru gojo.”

“how about this one?” shoko asked, “most likely to sleep through an earthquake.”

“if that’s not me, it has to be tsumiki.” you laughed out loud, knowing that your sleep was sacred to you and nothing could wake you up, “—and worst case of senioritis goes to you, shoko.”

shoko couldn’t disagree with that superlative. she grinned and read the next prompt.

“cutest couple obviously goes to you and gojo.” shoko chuckled before sighing. she pursed her lips, “ah—best bromance…”

“you already know who that should’ve went to,” you said with a soft frown, “satoru has been having a hard time this week—he thinks he’s good at hiding his emotions from me, but i know him too well.”

this week was your graduation ceremony for your whopping class of 3 tokyo jujutsu high sorcerers. jujutsu high school graduations weren’t that big of a celebration like most traditional high school graduations, but it was still important for the school to commemorate their young sorcerers on graduating—and also even making it to graduation given the dangers of being a sorcerer.

suguru geto, who was also known as satoru’s other half, his one and only, wasn’t able to be here to graduate with you, shoko, and satoru due to his decision to go his own way. suguru had a different vision in life, and he decided to leave everything behind to achieve it—including leaving behind his bestfriend, satoru. (read ‘to be present’ here)

shoko sighed as you looked back at her. it must’ve also been hard on shoko, who was a part of their trio. sashisu was shoko’s, satoru’s, and suguru’s group name. they were practically inseparable before you came along.

“suguru should’ve been here too.” shoko said quietly.

you patted her back softly, a measly attempt to comfort her, “i know.”

you heard the library door slide open, satoru waltzed through the door with a blue lollipop in his hand.

“you done perfecting your valedictorian speech yet?” satoru asked as he sat down beside you, kicking his feet on top of the library table as you and shoko closed out of the yearbook superlative tab.

you smiled warmly at him, “yeah, it’s been done.”

of course you were the valedictorian of your class. you took your studies very seriously compared to shoko and satoru. not only were you the valedictorian, but you also planned the graduation dinner that followed the very short ceremony. as the student body president, you had a lot to take care of this past month.

“can’t wait to hear it,” satoru said with a grin, “i better be getting a shoutout in your speech.”

“a shoutout for what?” shoko teased, “being (y/n)’s biggest pain in the ass the past three years she’s been here?”

satoru gasped, “more like being the biggest love of her life! if it wasn’t for jujutsu high, she would have never met me, shoko!”

you laughed at the two bantering back and forth before staring out into the distance. it was beautiful sunny day. tomorrow, you'd be graduates.

later that night

you shot a glare at your boyfriend, “satoru, did you iron your uniform for tomorrow like i asked you to?”

he smiled innocently at you, tilting his frosty head to the side in his attempt to look cute—which meant 'whoops, no'.

you sighed and held out your hands while satoru passed you his uniform with a grin, attempting to sneak a kiss on your cheek. you tried your best not to burst out laughing. hell, you were so in love with this man.

you popped off his jujutsu high pins and set them on his nightstand before stepping out of his room to head to the campus laundry room.

you heard satoru call out to you as you walked down the hallway.

“thanks sweetheart! i love you!”

a smile danced across your face. that satoru gojo whom you loved so silly, what were you going to do with him?

as you waited for the iron to heat up, you recited your graduation speech in your head. you were nervous. what if you tripped down the stairs while you grabbed your diploma from principal yaga? what if you messed up your valedictorian speech? or worse, what if you embarrassed yourself in front of the entire jujutsu high faculty and alumni?

"your forehead is going to have lines for days if you don't stop scowling."

you turned around at the familiar voice. satoru had come to find you.

"you can pay for my botox then." you retorted, sighing as you turned around to face him.

"what could your pretty little head be thinking about?" satoru asked. he hated to see anything but a smile on your face. “i know it’s not about how much you love me.”

you scoffed and chewed on your bottom lip before you grabbed the iron, gliding it down satoru's uniform.

"i'm worried i'm going to trip down the stairs, mess up my speech, or just completely embarrass myself in front of the jujutsu high faculty and alumni."

satoru gave you the ‘are you kidding me’ look and took the hot iron from your hands. he set it down on the ironing board and grabbed your shoulders.

"look at me." he commanded before resting his finger under your chin to guide your face to his, "sweetheart, the (y/n) (l/n) i know is perfect in every way. you walk confidently like this world is yours even in the highest heels, so i know for a fact that you won't trip down the stairs. you are a natural born leader and people gravitate towards you, so i know that your speech will grab everyone’s attention. you won't mess up because you've been working on this for the last month, i know that because i've been right by your side while you recited your speech a million times. and lastly, you won't embarrass yourself in front of everyone because you're perfect in almost every way. you're the pride and joy of the jujutsu community."

you pouted your lips and tilted your head to the side, "perfect in almost every way?"

"you're mean to me—" satoru teased before pressing a kiss against your lips, "—you don't kiss me in the mornings. which is a deduction to your perfect score."

you giggled as he peppered kisses on your cheek. one of your love languages was words of affirmation, and satoru gojo sure knew how to make you feel affirmed. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and held him close.

"i guess this meanie will sleep with the kids tonight." you whispered as you bantered back with satoru, knowing he'd rather sleep next to you than sleep alone.

he paused and squeezed you tightly before replying to your retort, "wait, i like you even though you're mean. you can bully me all you want, i don't mind."

yours and satoru's laughter filled the laundry room. he didn't think he could get enough of your precious laugh. he'd say any ridiculous thing to help take your mind off of your worries.

the next day: graduation day

"thank you for coming to the 2010 jujutsu high school gradation ceremony." principal yaga began, "after we hear from both myself and principal gakuganji, we will listen to the speeches from the valedictorians of both high schools."

you sat between satoru and shoko, your legs would not stop bouncing in nervousness. after each speech, your heart started to race even faster as your turn came.

"and lastly, we saved the best for last. the valedictorian of tokyo jujutsu high school, (y/n) (l/n), will be giving her speech."

the crowed filled with jujutsu high faculty, alumni, a large amount of jujutsu clans including the gojo clan and your clan started to clap as their eyes followed you to the stage. satoru gave you an encouraging smile and squeezed your hand. he whispered ‘you'll be amazing.’ to you before he let your hand go. you gave him a soft smile before getting out of your seat.

you walked down the side of the auditorium and up the steps to the microphone.

"thank you for gathering here today to celebrate the 4 long years of training, learning, and dealing with satoru gojo." the crowed erupted in laughter as you winked at satoru. he shot a grin back at you.

“i'd like to start off with a moment of silence to remember our fallen comrades and past alumni who have sacrificed their lives to become sorcerers and to protect our community. they have our gratitude and highest appreciation.”

as you gave yourself and the crowd a moment of silence, your heart raced. you were so nervous, your hands started trembling as you fiddled with your printed speech in front of you.

'you won't mess up because you've been working on this for the last month, i know that because i've been right by your side while you recited your speech a million times.'

memories of satoru's encouraging words from last night filled your head as you took a deep breath to continue on with your speech.

"3 years ago, i joined tokyo jujutsu high because i wanted to get away from being home schooled and i wanted to experience this thing called life." you looked out into the crowd to see your clan, quietly watching you. "i didn't know what i was getting myself into at the time, but i have to say, the past three years have been some of the hardest, but most rewarding." (read 'love at first fight' here)

you thought back on the gruesome hand-to-hand combat trainings with mei mei, the tiring, long, and dangerous missions exorcising curses with satoru, suguru, yu, and nanami, the late night study sessions for exams with shoko. as difficult as it was, you'd do it all over... especially if you could meet satoru again.

"i'd like to give a huge shoutout to yaga-sensei, congratulations on your promotion to principal—and thank you for taking on not only two, but three special grade sorcerers during my time here."

a cheer for your sensei, masamichi yaga, erupted through the auditorium as you, satoru, and shoko clapped alongside the crowd.

"this evening is not only about celebrating our academic achievements as students, but also to celebrate becoming official jujutsu sorcerers. now i know that being a jujutsu sorcerer isn't for the faint of heart, nor is it an easy job. it's gruesome, painful not only physically, but mentally. which is why i'm happy to announce that our very own shoko ieiri is going to be hired on as our official in-house doctor for jujutsu high. she will oversee both tokyo and kyoto locations. congrats, shoko!"

applause began for shoko as she stood up from her seat and waved to the crowd. you smiled brightly at your bestfriend—even though you knew she cheated on a majority of her tests. however, shoko's talent in reversed cursed technique was second to none. she would be an amazing doctor, legit or not.

"one thing that happened during my 3 years here at tokyo jujutsu high school that changed my life for the better was—"

satoru muttered, attempting to finish your sentence, "—meeting satoru gojo."

"—becoming a guardian to megumi and tsumiki fushiguro. courtesy of satoru gojo." you laughed, "which i'm also happy to announce that satoru and i will be returning next year to join the tokyo jujutsu high faculty and staff. satoru will be in charge of training first year students while i will be the administrative secretary for both tokyo and kyoto jujutsu high locations." (read 'learn to love' here)

you cleared your throat, "now that we've shared the fun and exciting plans for your three graduates from tokyo jujutsu high school, i'd like to talk about something on a heavier note. those of you who know, know that there was supposed to be 4 students graduating today..."

you felt a lump in your throat, the thought of suguru geto not being here with you, satoru, and shoko shattered a piece of your heart. you were sure satoru and shoko were thinking of him in this moment as well.

"—because of this loss, as the future administrative secretary, i will be implementing reviews and mental health checks on all of our students every quarter. i believe that we need to check in on our students. my office doors will always be open to those who need a shoulder to lean on."

you understood that the idea of mental health was taboo, especially here in japan—but you knew that if you and satoru were going to be raising the next generation of jujutsu sorcerers, that you both were going to make a difference in the lives of your future students. megumi and tsumiki also encouraged that decision, as you and satoru did not want to see them suffer the same fate as suguru.

a loud applause struck the auditorium. satoru smiled proudly as he knew that you were going to make a positive change in the jujutsu society—and with you by his side, he could take on the impossible. even if that meant butting heads with the higher ups and starting out training first year sorcerers. he was going to make this experience fun and exciting for not only you and him, but for his future students as well.

you heard cheering from the gojo clan and your own clan. you saw touya and his new girlfriend, kana, hooting and hollering from their seats. you continued to shine brightly under the auditorium lights.

"before i end my little speech, there are some personal thank you's that i'd like to give. to megumi and tsumiki—you two are my perfect little angels and i will continue to strive to be a good role model for you both. to my fellow classmates—thank you for all the late night study sessions, the delicious meals in the dining hall, fun-filled sleepovers, and wild class trips. to my loving grandparents, genkei and kanao, and my brother, touya—thank you for believing in me and always pushing me to be the best i can be. to the gojo clan—thank you for always supporting me and for giving me someone like satoru." you smiled at the gojo clan's presence in the crowd and then turned back to face satoru. (read 'meet the gojos' here)

satoru gojo was beaming brightly, just like he always did. his blue eyes shined back at yours, awaiting your next line of thanks. your eyes watered as the love you felt for the white-haired sorcerer overflowed from your heart.

"lastly, thank you satoru—for believing in me and loving me unconditionally every single day since the first day we met on the sparring field."

you took one last deep breath and shouted, "congratulations jujutsu high school class of 2010! we made it!"

a final applaud erupted throughout the auditorium. you laughed in relief as you finished your speech and wiped the almost formed tears from your eyes. you watched as the crowd stood up in a standing ovation.

in a crowd full of people, your eyes could spot satoru gojo in a heartbeat.

later that night

after the graduation dinner, you and satoru sat outside in the courtyard of tokyo jujutsu high. the twinkle lights you ordered for the staff to use as decor danced against the night sky, illuminating the courtyard with a soft warm glow. and behind that warm glow, satoru's cerulean blue eyes glimmered. you could have sworn satoru had a blush on his face, almost as if he was embarrassed about something.

“can you believe we’re finally graduated?” you asked satoru in disbelief.

the last 3 years had flown by. you were officially graduated from tokyo jujutsu high. the next step this summer was to move out of the dorms and find a home to fit you, satoru, megumi, and tsumiki.

“not quite yet,” satoru said as he starting to unpin his buttons from his uniform. you gave him the 'what are you doing' look. he chuckled at your reaction.

satoru took off the second button from his uniform, taking your hand to place his button in your palm.

“now we’re officially graduated.”

in japan, there's a high school tradition for boys to give the second button of their uniform to the girl that they loved. this act has a special meaning that is equal to a heartfelt confession.

“isn’t it a no brainer that i should be receiving this button?” you giggled. you admired the button of his uniform in your palm, a sign of affection that basically said that you were his.

satoru leaned in towards your face, sneaking a kiss on your cheek. he wrapped his arms around you as you melted in his embrace.

“actually, you don't even have to answer, satoru. you’ve loved me for almost 3 years. it's a no brainer.”

“you mean i put up with a mean girlfriend for 3 years?” satoru laughed boisterously. he let go of you and booped your nose playfully. his signature cheshire grin spread across his face.

you grabbed his hand to hold his palm against your cheek, teasing him, "since i'm so mean, will you put up with another 3 years of no good morning kisses?"

the white haired sorcerer continued to grin, "i'll think about it."

you rolled your eyes at how dramatic satoru could be and mumbled under your breath, "you know how i feel about morning breath."

"yeah, yeah." satoru mumbled back at you, "gimme a congratulatory graduation kiss then."

you wrapped your arm around satoru's shoulders and planted a firm kiss on his lips. satoru pulled away from you and smiled, amused with how the night was going.

"sweetheart, i'd put up with another lifetime of no good morning kisses if you asked me to. as long as i get to wake up next to you every morning." (read 'sleeping with the enemy' here)

you scoffed at satoru's cheesy comment before kissing him again to shut him up. you were ready to venture into the next step of your life with satoru by your side—no good morning kisses and all.

EXTRA:

“we’re gonna have to find a place to live in after graduation.” you said with apprehensive tone. not only did you and satoru have to find an apartment for the two of you, the apartment had to fit megumi, tsumiki, your spirit birds and the demon dogs too.

“it will be fine,” satoru reassured you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

you bit your lip, lost in thought. you wanted to make sure that the apartment you chose would be a safe haven for megumi and tsumiki. it had to be a home filled with love. ever since you and satoru took them in, you made sure that they grew up with everything they needed. whatever they wanted, you and satoru provided with no hesitation.

“you already know that the two pipsqueaks will be happy wherever we end up.” satoru said softly, “they just want to be with us.”

"you mean tsumiki just wants to be with us." you laughed, "megumi does not want to be next to you."

"i'll win him over, just you wait." satoru said confidently.

you knew deep down that megumi actually really admired satoru, but he would never admit that to his sensei's face.

"since we're on the topic of a place to live, we just need to make sure that our room is on the opposite side of the apartment from the kids' room."

you glared at satoru, knowing exactly where this conversation was going. he held his hands up in the air, feigning innocence.

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cinnamonest · 4 months ago

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I've been thinking more about promiscuous darlings which led me to the idea of prostitute!darling, and I was thinking about that like in that event a while back where Paimon says Kaveh seems like “the kind of guy that would be easy to take advantage of” and it got me thinking how quickly and readily he would fall in love with a prostitute… literally lured and baited as easily as a fish to a hook.

He doesn't like the thought of what he's doing, initially. He's never been the sort of person who associates with morally questionable things — he’s heard that a lot of those girls don't really want to be doing it, they just need money, so participating would be taking advantage of them, wouldn't it? He couldn't do something so awful.

But he's got a lot of pent up frustration. His work is hard, he's not in a good place financially, he's stressed, pent up, and has no outlet for release. And even if he strives to be a good person, he's still a guy, still has urges that, when gone unmet, only contribute to that frustration.

In hindsight, he feels like something possessed him. Couldn't say exactly what caused him to take a course of action so far removed from what he would have thought was his personal character.

It's just a particularly bad day, after particularly disagreeable clients spent a particularly long time endlessly getting in his face and complaining and snapping at him, he worked particularly late and is particularly frustrated and seething and wallowing as he sulks home so late at night, and he's particularly irritated because some construction going on forces him to take a different route home, and—

You just so happen to call out to him. And when he turns his head, he immediately stiffens up.

So pretty. You have that specific body type he’s always found most alluring, always pictured in his head when he would lay in bed and jerk off all day after classes. And he can certainly tell, because those outfits you girls on this part of the street wear certainly leave very little to the imagination. So much skin, he can see your entire leg, from the hip down to the ankles and all the curving along the way, he can see most of your tits too, cleavage spilling out from the top. It's immediately captivating. If he was thinking straight, he would suppose that's kind of the point, but he's too lost in the sudden burst of stimulation to his eyes to think about much at all.

You have such a nice smile, such a sweet voice. And now that you have his attention, you put on that whimsical feminine charm, shift your weight from one foot to the other, hips swaying all playfully, and he has to ask you to repeat what you said because he didn't hear you the first time, he was too distracted, and it feels so embarrassing to say that, but you just giggle — it's so cute — and repeat your question — if he wants to come inside.

He swallows, stumbles over his words at the prospect, you're being very forward — oh, wait, you probably mean come inside the building. Oh… that makes more sense, at this stage in the process. Whoops…

But that isn't much better. He's still red in the face and hesitates, all uh, ah, I, um, I just…

Yes, he isn't sure exactly what possesses him. It’s not something he would ever do on his own, surely. It feels more like the word comes out of his mouth on its own.

Sure.

The following events seem almost surreal, in hindsight. He can't remember what you even talked about, some empty meaningless conversation about what he does for a living or if he's been around this area before, some placeholder of a conversation that he knows full well is merely a courtesy to make it all feel a little more natural, empty words that are mutually understood to be just a buffer to prevent awkwardness as you walk up the stairs, to fill the short span of time before you get to the point.

He remembers said point a lot better. Long after it's over, he can remember the feeling of your mouth on his, and the way you pulled on the back of his neck to pull him on top of you, the rush of euphoric chemicals to the brain the moment you pulled just one little button undone and the whole thing you're wearing comes falling off, the visual of your body (he’s never actually seen a girl naked in real life before, it’s so captivating, the anatomy textbooks don’t do it justice), and the way your tits bounce with the movements and the way they feel in his mouth and the image of his cock driving into you over and over (no one ever told him it feels so warm and wet, so good, has he really been missing out on this all this time?) and the sounds you made are practically permanently burned into his brain.

So much so, he keeps thinking about it for days on end. He felt kind of sad when he left, but he knows that he only paid for a limited time slot, so it would be unfair to ask to stay any longer, but the way you smiled and waved and told him you hoped to see him again — still naked, body pressed up against the doorframe, the way your chest shifted when you waved — made him feel so warm, made his heart beat fast all over again.

It's all so distracting. He works at a much slower pace than usual, the following days, keeps getting distracted by the lingering visuals in his head and the way he keeps getting hard whenever he thinks about it, and not to mention the guilt.

Yes, as euphoric as it was, he feels terrible. Like he's done something wrong. Swears to himself that he'll forget about it and never do it again, that it was a one-time thing.

But he begins to rationalize it to himself.

Sure, you do it because you need money, but that means that if no one participated in the exchange, then you wouldn't make any money at all, and that would be worse, right? Besides, everyone knows some of those guys that engage in this sort of thing are terrible, mean people — but he's not, he's a really nice guy! So by seeing you, by being the one to buy your time, he's protecting you from potentially having to do it with really bad men. So, when you think about it, he's actually doing something really good.

And it improves his life, too. The next day, he finds that the nagging clients don't really get under his skin at all. Sure, they're complaining and being mean to him, but he's not really paying attention, it all feels far away, like it's not even real. He just feels full of this warm, fuzzy feeling, total bliss, like floating, without a care in the world. He isn't stressed, isn't worried. He even thinks to himself that, you know what, that task or that work can wait until tomorrow, no rush, and if someone gets mad about it, too bad.

He ends up just laying in bed, grinning like an idiot, basking in the euphoric high that lasts him several days on end.

…Except then, it fades away.

Soon he's back to the stress, constant state of being overwhelmed, the little things start to upset him again, and he actually feels more miserable than he did before, now that he has such a good feeling to compare to.

You said you hope he comes back, didn’t you? And he’s pretty sure he stuttered out an o-oh, okay, so now he’s obligated.

Thus, soon enough, he's back.

It's not like he's intentionally seeking you out. He just felt like walking home a different way today, is all, which just so happens to be the route that took him by you last time, and he has no intention of seeing you, it just so happens to be the case that you are standing around outside and you do happen to see him and you choose to call out to him (by his name!! You remember him!!), you're smiling and have such a sweet voice, you clearly want him to come in (do you like him? You wouldn't be smiling if you didn't, right?) and it would be mean of him to reject you, wouldn't it?

Yes, you're clearly happy. You smile all over again. He's not doing anything wrong, it's only wrong if the girl doesn't like doing it. He would never taken advantage of one of those vulnerable girls that's forcing herself to do it for money. But you're not like that, so it's okay.

Which is how he ends up back there a third time. Because it's okay, and it makes you happy, and it makes him very happy, so it's all okay.

And besides, what you two have is different. It's not like the normal cases, where the girl is just in it for money and doesn't want the guy at all. You clearly enjoyed your time with him. Probably a welcome relief from all the gross old guys you have to see.

And it's different because it's not just sex. Normally, with this sort of thing, it's cold and impersonal, isn't it?

But you smile so sweet and run your fingers through his hair, and cradle his head in your arms and pull him close and coo and fuss and run your fingers down his back. And since he intends to pay for the entire night this time, you get to just lay there together, and you're so warm and soft and you smile and giggle as he talks, so pretty, so nice to him, your skin is so good to touch, you smell so nice.

And the sex itself is different too — you like it, genuinely, he can tell, you make such nice sounds and lewd faces and look directly into his eyes and pull his head forward to kiss him (he one heard someone say that prostitutes never kiss clients, so if you do that it must mean he's different), and you hold him so close and tighten up around him and it feels so so so so good, and the way you quiver and the sounds get louder and you squeal and spasm and it's so so SO good, too good, it feels so passionate that it has to be real.

Yes, it is real. It's not just acting. He can feel the slick wetness all over his hips from you, that means it's real. And you don't even mind when he gets a bit lost in the feeling, starts to really let all the pent-up irritation out, gets rougher and harder and holds you by your throat. He feels so terrible after he cums and realizes what he was doing, keeps sputtering out apologies over and over, but you smile and wave your hand and say it's more than fine, giggle and kiss his forehead, say you wouldn't expect it from such a sweet boy like him, but you like it. If you're fine with it, if you like it, then you're not scared he might actually hurt you. You must really trust him, then.

The downside is that now, work feels so miserable. He keeps thinking about how much he wants to go back to you. Each project feels like torture — why is he here, negotiating with these disagreeable people, slaving away all night, when he could be balls deep in you again, hear your voice, feel your touch?

And he starts to get so irritated and frustrated again, and he finds that this time around, he doesn't have to sit there and let the frustration hit a peak before deciding to do something, he doesn't have to rationalize it for hours on end just to allow himself to give into the urge — the moment the frustration rises, his mind immediately settled on the decision. He has to go see you. You'll make everything better.

Except now, he realizes as he reaches into his drawers, there's a different problem.

…He has no money left.

That means he can't see you. He spent all his savings on you last time.

It makes him feel sick. This can't be happening. What is he supposed to do? He can't just go back to dealing with the frustration all the time! Now that he knows what it's like to be so happy, he can't go without it. He needs it.

It's not just the sex itself, he's not some kind of degenerate, he wants to see you! That's wholesome and good, isn't it? So it’s not like he’s some sort of pervert addicted to sex itself, he’s addicted to you.

And besides, if he isn't there for you, you'll have to deal with other men, and most guys who see prostitutes are bad guys, right? What if one of them hurts you? What if you're expecting him to come, and then you'll feel hurt and sad if he doesn't? You'll be disappointed. He can't let that happen.

So where is he supposed to get money from…?

Well. He has a few means, as he starts to brainstorm a bit. Right, there is a small stash of emergency money he had put away at the bottom of another drawer, that he was saving for a situation where he needed it, but put it away so he wouldn't be tempted to spend it on something unnecessary.

But this isn't like that. It is necessary, for him to continue functioning properly. And for you to have the money to get by! Not only is he guaranteeing your safety for the night, but what if you didn't get anyone if he didn't come? Well, it's unlikely no one would come, but still, you might not make enough money, and what happens then? Don't those guys that own the brothels get really mean to the girls that don't make enough? He can't have that happen. So, this situation absolutely justifies the use of the emergency stash. It's enough to give him another three nights or so. He can just use enough money for one visit, and then by the time he needs another one, he'll have brought in some new money.

No, no, you know what? You need it more than he does. He just gives it all to you at once, and to be honest, it does make his heart skip a beat when your eyes widen in shock. This way, he can reserve the next three nights in a row, right? He originally intended to space them out a bit, but, no, he’s already here, and he’s really needy right now, he’ll just do three nights in a row and figure out how to get more later. He'll just pay upfront. You're so happy. It makes him feel good.

And then, as the night goes on, when you're laying there all curled up together talking about all sorts of things, he off-handedly mentions that you wear that dress of yours all the time, he's never seen you without it, is it your favorite?

And then you get this sheepish look on your face, give an awkward laugh, say that well, you don't really have any other clothes, you sold them all to get by before you ended up here, and you give so much back to the owners that you just don't have enough to get any more…

That's so sad. Poor thing. You can't just not have enough clothes… well, he only has a few things he changes back and forth himself, but girls are really into clothes and stuff, aren't they? You deserve to have nice things, it's sad that you don't get to. He keeps it in mind, says he promises he'll get you something. You say he doesn’t have to. You’re so sweet and considerate. That just makes him want to help you even more.

So when his next project is complete and he gets the payout for it, sure, he only needs about half of it to pay you for one or two nights each week for the next month, and he could get you something cheap and still have a little left over for rent, but… you deserve nice stuff. And the nice stuff would make you so much happier, too, it would earn him favor from you… besides, he has another project he'll finish soon, he can just pay late rent using that.

So he can get the nice stuff. Besides, even shopping exclusively for higher-end stuff, it's still a bit cheaper to buy the super revealing clothes, since they use less fabric. Not that he's a pervert or anything, it's just that you need clothes like that for your job, don't you? It's part of how you lure guys in. The fact that you'll look really nice in it to him is just a side bonus, it's really for your sake.

…Which, actually, does make him feel a bit sick to his stomach. He's getting you clothes that you'll use to hook other guys who aren't him. But, no, he's a mature person, he can't… let himself get upset about something like that… it’s not your fault… he'll just choose to not think about it.

He can distract himself with how happy you are. Your eyes light up and you smile so big and you stand on your toes to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss his face all over. You're happy. You're really, really happy, because of him, he made you happy, his heart is beating so fast, and when you put them on it shows off even more than he thought it would, you can almost see everything, it just barely covers the bare minimum and you seem to really like that, you pull him close and reach a leg up behind him and pull his hips forward and the rest of the night is a hazy blur of lust and euphoria, you're so happy, and he's happy too.

It feels so good. He's been missing out on this all these years. It's the best feeling of anything in the world. He's so, so happy.

He's so happy that people in his life start to comment on it. They ask if something good happened, they say they're glad he seems less stressed. He just shrugs it off, says he's just been feeling better recently, or makes something up about a different change in habits.

And sure, he has to tell Alhaitham that he won't have rent just this one time, it's just that something came up, although he won't specify what it is, but he makes it sound important — not dishonestly, because it is important, it's just that he knows that the first assumption one would make would he something a bit… more important, but if that assumption is made, that's not his fault.

Nonetheless, he's soon out of money again. Gets hit with the same wave of panic. He's got a routine now, a habit, he's dependent on you for his stress. He needs it. If he doesn't get what he needs, how is he supposed to go on? How is he supposed to function? He can't just use his hand anymore, it's not enough, it doesn't have the same effect. And he can't just beg you to sleep with him anyway, he knows you need money, he would never put you in that situation, it would be unfair to you, he's a better man than that. He has to pay you somehow.

He has some things he doesn't need. Tools he hasn't used in ages. Some stuff he hasn't worn or needed in a long time. He can sell a few things.

And, you know what, this client has been really mean to him anyway, so if he cuts a few corners to get paid a bit earlier, it's no big deal, the guy doesn't deserve his best work anyway. It’s a mentality he normally would never take, but… this is different. This is a unique situation that calls for such measures.

And he's taken out loans before from the bank, usually for projects, and he usually pays it back, so they undoubtedly assume it's just another case of that, so he'll take out a decently sized loan�� of course, he may need more money for more upcoming projects, and then they won't give him a new loan until he pays back the old one, but… well, he'll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

And normally, he would never, ever, ever do something bad, he's a person who prides himself on his moral values, but it's not like he's doing something bad in this case, its just pure coincidence that he happens to find some guy’s wallet dropped on the ground. It just so happens to have a lot of money in it. And he returns the wallet itself into the nearest law enforcement, he gives the object itself and all the IDs and such back. He's sure the rightful owner would pay him for the good deed anyway. And when you think about it, the fact that this would happen to him just when he needed it, it's probably some kind of divine grace that this happened, and who is he to deny what the higher powers gift him with?

He can keep making it work. And he can keep buying out larger and larger blocks of your time, to ensure no one else gets to you — after that one time he arrived to find out you were already occupied for the time being, it practically made his blood boil, made him feel so sick he walked home and couldn't get the images out of his mind of you with someone else, he can't let that happen again, it would kill him inside.

Likewise, he has to get a bit more earnings, take on some more jobs, sacrifice some more sleep because you keep hinting at certain things you want, and if he doesn't buy them for you, who will? It's all stuff you need anyway — well, stuff you need for your job, all the fancy jewelry and perfumes and clothes and stuff. And he gets benefits, too — your love and favor, you take initiative more, you ride him and kiss him more and let him do all sorts of filthy things you don't let anyone else do (he knows because you told him so), you even let him stop wearing protection when he sleeps with you, and it's so much better, it's completely different, he can't go back to the old way, having to be deprived of that warm, wet heat would be utterly miserable. You even give him a night or two for free, because you like him so much, tell him it should be a secret just between you two, okay? Of course, you can't do it all for free, so he has to come back again soon, but you know, this way, he'll stay incentivized, which is good — because you want him to come back because you like him, not for money, no, never that.

You tell him he's your favorite. You say that he makes you happy. You say you would be heartbroken if he ever stopped coming. You say that you need him.

You say that you love him.

He feels like he's going to die of happiness right there on the spot.

You mention that if someone just paid off your price to the owner (said buying price is whatever the owner decides), plus the debt you accumulate from staying here (it's well known that those fees are how they trap these poor girls into endless servitude), then you would be free — that if someone just pays for you, you could be free to do what you want, that you could sleep with him every day, you could even get married.

So he has to do it. He feels bad about the concept of buying a human being, but, his situation is different, because he's a good guy and loves you. Besides, the sooner he does, then the sooner you'll never have sex with anyone but him ever again. He's saving you, really.

And if he doesn't, what if someone else does? What if someone else took you away from him? He can't even imagine it. The very notion makes him feel nauseous, panicked, distraught. He can't let that happen.

It's not unfeasible. If he really budgets well, saves just a little at a time, he can get you out in no time. Just a year or so. He'll start saving.

And sure, he hasn't paid rent in a while now, and he gets these questions of where his money is going, why he's leaving late at night when he never did that before, all these pesky questions he shouldn't have to answer, because it's none of your business, as he mutters in response. He's just got too much going on right now, and strapped for cash, he'll pay it back eventually, that's what matters.

…Which also makes him realize that, even if he does buy you, you'll have to just come live here with him, and how is he supposed to explain that to Alhaitham… he can just say he got a girlfriend, right? Still, people might recognize you, he'd find out eventually, and then he'd probably realize all the missed rent payments were actually going to him getting laid, and that's… not good… he just wouldn't understand, he's totally lacking in any understanding of romanticism or love… such unfeeling pragmatists are so annoying to deal with… he'll just have to deal with that when it happens…

Except it does end up happening sooner than later. Someone or another (some jerk who can't keep their mouth shut, he'll find out eventually), must have seen him around at night, going to you, and that same person must have reported on him (like a grade school tattletale crying to a teacher, hmph!) and that's how he eventually gets confronted, point blank (absolutely no sense of tact or appropriateness!), one night as he’s trying to leave to go see you, but finds the other blocking the door.

Are you blowing your money on a whore?

Of course, before addressing the matter directly, it's important to point out that it is rude to call women terms like that, they are prostitutes and they deserve to be respected as much as anyone else—

So you are.

Which starts off a much bigger, longer, more heated argument, in which he tries to explain that no he’s not dodging the question and that it is not prostitution, you two are in a relationship, you just so happen to also be a prostitute, but he's trying to help you change that— hey, what's with the sighing like that and rubbing the bridge of his nose like he's exasperated? It's true! You even said you love him!

Okay, yes, maybe it's true that they all say that, but in this case, you mean it, you're different, he wouldn't get it.

And sure, the whole thing is probably surprising from him of all people— what do you mean it's not that surprising? What's that supposed to mean? What— who are you calling an “ideal target”?! That's so mean! You—

And despite his best efforts, there is no point in trying to use reason with someone so cold and devoid of capacity to understand love. It's futile. How pessimistic, so annoying. Besides, he's implying you're a bad person, and he can't stand for that. No, you're not using him, how could he say that?

Eventually it becomes very clear that the conversation is going nowhere, it's very much like talking to a brick wall, someone who just refuses to even try and understand what you two have. No matter. Fine, fine, he'll focus on paying back rent first, but then he's going to buy you, and then he'll see firsthand how loving you are (and surely will not charge him extra for another person living in the house, as he was just threatened with)… he'll see. Eventually.

#baby boy...#.kv

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obsidianpen · 7 months ago

Note

What's so great about Harrymort, anyway? This ship basically consists of Stockholm syndrome, power inequality, and abuse. The same can be applied to Tomione but I understand that last one and I even started to appreciate this ship a lot. Hermione is the character most similar to Tom, if she had the ambition that Tom had, she could have become something similar to Voldemort in canon. But beyond that, Hermione is someone Tom/V could respect and have as an ally. She is someone who would be able to rule alongside him, and everyone would benefit from that, since she is fair and good. Also if Tom/V had her by his side, he would be a more stable version than the one in canon. So.. I understand why you like this ship so much but.. the more I think about Harrymort the more I feel disgusted. Harry is not a character that people respect and fear, he is just Harry. Just that. Some random boy. There's nothing special about him, and if it weren't for the horcrux he would already be dead since chapter 1 of the books. Tom/V is a prodigy, one of the most powerful wizards in the books, he wouldn't be interested in someone so ordinary. But let's say yes, that Tom/V is interested in Harry precisely because he is common and average, since they have a similar background - This is difficult to happen, V is not an empathetic character but let's pretend so - and because of the horcrux, of course it's because of the horcrux, that's the only reason, the only thing that makes Harry stand out among the others -not even that came from him lol so sad- If our hypothetical scenario happened, Harry would be a toy for Tom /V -he already is- "ah, but the fun is in how much Harry fights, he was going to fight, that's what he is" oh yes, this argument is the favorite of the Tomarymort fans, huh? He wouldn't be able to fight forever, this character has been in fight or flight mode since the beginning, he'll get tired eventually, V would be able to break him, and do you think V is the type to keep things broken? I don't think so. My point is Tomarymort is a ship that explores abuse, toxic and destructive relationships, physical and psychological torture, Stockholm syndrome etc. And that's fine if you like it but I think we can all agree that this ship and love should NEVER be put in the same sentence . Because love and respect would never exist between these two characters. No matter how good the writer is, some things just don't work. Just become them ooc, that's what happens most lol

Preface: I’m breaking this one down point by point, and then I am never responding to anything similar ever again. I will also not be posting anonymous responses to this. I hate being the middle man for a tumblr shipping war, so I’m not going to participate in that. If you want to respond, you can leave a comment or reblog it into your own page. 💖

What's so great about Harrymort, anyway?

The drama, the intensity, the wrongness, the clashing of opposites, the most extreme version of enemies to loversâ€¦

This ship basically consists of Stockholm syndrome, power inequality, and abuse.

In some fics sure, yeah. But these are all really interesting - terrible, yes, but super interesting to dive into. There is a reason people like to read/watch psychological thrillers, horror, etc. I don’t feel like I should have to explain this very massive, common human drive, so I won’t. Go google it!

The same can be applied to Tomione but I understand that last one and I even started to appreciate this ship a lot.

Cool, you like these things too! And you’re completely allowed to prefer Hermione to Harry. Whatever you want to read.

Hermione is the character most similar to Tom, if she had the ambition that Tom had, she could have become something similar to Voldemort in canon.

Strong disagree here - she did have that ambition imo, she justâ€¦ wasn’t evil, and she became Minister of Magic in canon, so. Pretty ambitious and somewhat similar, just in the legal, ‘good’ way.

But beyond that, Hermione is someone Tom/V could respect and have as an ally.

Mm, no, she was a muggleborn, so in canon, a LOT of major shifts would have needed to happen for her to simply not be killed, or maybe tortured a hunch for fun, first, before eventuallyâ€¦ being killed.

She is someone who would be able to rule alongside him, and everyone would benefit from that, since she is fair and good.

Again, LOTS of things would have had to happen in canon for this to be even remotely possible. Unless you’re imagining some kind of AU where Tom Riddle is the same age as the trio, and they grow up together and can therefore influence each other on more equal footingâ€¦? But that’s Tom, not canon Voldemort, and you started this referencing Voldemort.

Also if Tom/V had her by his side, he would be a more stable version than the one in canon.

Uh, would he? Assuming we’ve jumped over the impossible canon hurdles to get Hermione by Lord Voldemort’s side, by the time Hermione is even in the magical world, he’s been a bodiless spirit with a shredded soul for years. It would be a tall order for Hermione - or anyone - to make him more stable. I like arguing that Harry could sort of manage this in canon because of the horcrux connection, but that’s me making things up that are FAR from canon, and Hermione doesn’t have this.

So.. I understand why you like this ship so much but.. the more I think about Harrymort the more I feel disgusted.

Cool, your feelings are valid! You should probably stop thinking about Harrymort for your mental health. You can block tags/keywords/etc on tumblr so that you see less of it.

Harry is not a character that people respect and fear, he is just Harry. Just that. Some random boy. There's nothing special about him, and if it weren't for the horcrux he would already be dead since chapter 1 of the books.

Well, that’s not true, imo. Harry was the best at Defensive Magic, he was an amazing flier, he is brave and bold and puts his life on the line for others without question - even people who don’t deserve it and who tried to harm him, like Draco. Those are all extraordinary traits that maybe some people make the mistake of ignoring and underestimating.

Tom/V is a prodigy, one of the most powerful wizards in the books, he wouldn't be interested in someone so ordinary.

If not for the horcrux, maybe not. But also, maybe. We don’t know what Harry would have been like if he grew up with a normal happy healthy family. Maybe he would have thrived in many ways, and he would have gleaned some interest. But even without that, see above comment to take note of some of Harry’s traits that he has despite growing up in an abusive home. Voldemort said himself that he values bravery.

But let's say yes, that Tom/V is interested in Harry precisely because he is common and average, since they have a similar background - This is difficult to happen, V is not an empathetic character but let's pretend so - and because of the horcrux, of course it's because of the horcrux, that's the only reason, the only thing that makes Harry stand out among the others -not even that came from him lol so sad- If our hypothetical scenario happened, Harry would be a toy for Tom /V -he already is- "ah, but the fun is in how much Harry fights, he was going to fight, that's what he is" oh yes, this argument is the favorite of the Tomarymort fans, huh? He wouldn't be able to fight forever, this character has been in fight or flight mode since the beginning, he'll get tired eventually, V would be able to break him, and do you think V is the type to keep things broken? I don't think so.

None of this logic adds up to me. How can you say all this about Harry and not apply it to pretty much everyone else, including Hermione? Voldemort WAS far from empathetic. Canonically. And yeah, sure, no one would be able to fight forever. But if anyone has a fire that would last an infuriatingly long time, I’d argue that it would be Harry.

My point is Tomarymort is a ship that explores abuse, toxic and destructive relationships, physical and psychological torture, Stockholm syndrome etc. And that's fine if you like it but I think we can all agree that this ship and love should NEVER be put in the same sentence .

Obviously this depends on what the story is. If it’s a story that explores all those former themes, then it’s probably not a lovey dovey romance anyway. But there are definitely stories that don’t have all those dark subjects, and if someone wants to write a platonic romance where the word love shows up between these two, more power to them! But you don’t get to say everyone in the world can never do a single thing in their fiction. People can write whatever they want! And you get to decide not to read it! Everyone wins.

Because love and respect would never exist between these two characters. No matter how good the writer is, some things just don't work. Just become them ooc, that's what happens most lol

I feel sorry for you. Where is your sense of curiosity, open-mindedness? Maybe you could never write these things convincingly, but some people are more talented than you (don’t take this too personally; no matter how good we are, there are always people more talented than us). It’s okay to not like things and to avoid them based on your comfort level/interest/etc etc, but just because you’re not looking doesn’t mean that such amazing jaw-dropping works that make you believe in the unbelievable aren’t out there.

💖

#Harrymort #tomarry #discourse #I hate that I’m using that tag

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reve-writes · 2 years ago

Text

—dense; kaz brekker.

ʚ kaz brekker x reader | grishaverse | 2,2k words. ʚ you're a bit clueless as to why the dirtyhands do the things he does, like call you schatje and pay you to steal something when he clearly doesn't need to. ʚ fluff. ʚ a/n maybe ooc kaz im sorry. more at the end!

Ketterdam is a marvel from afar, a pretty little flower offering promises of its nectar—new life, new opportunities, debauchery—only to catch you in its trap and swallow you whole. All the way up on the clock tower, roughly centralised in the port city, the Barrel is nothing more than bright lights emanating from bar signs and glittering roofs.

The bell rings, reveberating to signal the change of the hour. It's time to work, finally.

Your boots thump as you make your way down the spiraling concrete staircase, paying attention not to step on the chunks flaking off of the edge. Whoever was responsible for building this was clearly cutting cost, the concrete is about as fragile as clay.

A painting. It is an annoying job to do on your own, but your contractor offered a lot of Kruge for it—perhaps too much, but if Mr. Kikkert is willing to scrape his pockets for it, then you're more than happy to accept. It is more Kruge than you would ever need for a while, so you won't have to scrounge for scraps in this Ghezen-forsaken town. Moreover, it's been a while since your last job and you're frankly not doing too well.

You step lightly over the rooftops, hopping from building-to-building with sure, steady steps. You have done this for most of your lives, to avoid being stomped into the vile muck at the bottom of the Barrel, you learned to hide near the skies.

Where the painting is being kept isn't far from the Canal, just on the rows of overpriced apartments for rent. You were told that it was housed on the third floor of the corner building. Everything is going well. Your journey is uninterrupted and the stadwatch aren't on alert.

Until you spot him.

The familiar curve of his black hat. The high collar of his coat. The shining leather of his gloves.

Brekker.

You strut towards him as if you are neighbours crossing paths on your evening walks. When in truth, his Crow Club is on the other side of the town and you never come to this area without reason. You call his name sweetly. His head whips around immediately, finding you in the dwindling foot traffic of the street.

He says your name in a warning tone, suspicious of your being here.

“What? Can't I come and see an old friend?”

Brekker scoffs. “I don't know. Can you, schatje?”

You almost turn around and leave when you hear the term of endearment. He knows it gets under your skin—it always does. Your heart skips a beat or two and your train of thoughts gets interrupted whenever he calls you that. He means it as a jeering nudge and your head is wholly aware of that. Your heart, though. What a fickle little thing.

“A bit of a walk from the club, isn't it?” you say, falling into step next to him as he turns the corner towards the apartment building. “I assume you must be up to something.”

“Ah, but I'm always up to something.”

“I can't say I disagree,” you snort. “You don't happen to have a job around the area, do you?”

He halts, his cane knocking against the stone pathing. He turns to look at you and your elbows brush against each other. “Do you need anything? I have important matters to attend to.”

You bring a hand to your chest exaggeratedly, feigning a frown. “How callous. Call me schatje and throw me aside. Is this how you treat everyone, Kaz?”

“Only you, mijn schatje.”

You roll your eyes, unsure how to behave. Huffing, you say, “Stop calling me that.”

“I was under the impression that you liked the nickname.”

Oh, you do.

“I'll be going now. I've something to do. Stay off my job,” you warn. “You still owe me literal crown jewels from last time.”

Kaz's neutral expression shifts into fond nostalgia as he recalls the incident you're referring to. The crown jewels in question were under dispute by a pair of soon-to-be divorcees. One of them hired the Crows' help. The other called on you. One thing led to another and the item ended up in Kaz's hands and you went home empty-handed.

“I won that fair and square,” Kaz retorts. “Your current job wouldn't involve a certain painting, would it?”

Judging by his smug thin smile, you know that he knows.

“Tell me it isn't what you're here for.” You sigh exasperatedly. “Stay off of it, Brekker. I can't afford to lose another job.”

You think to be threatening, bluff your way out and tell him you'll tear down his Crow Club if he gets in your way, but you doubt it will work against the Dirtyhands. After all, you're one person and he has the whole Dregs behind him.

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow for a moment and for that terrible moment, you think that he may be there for the same reason you are, but he shakes his head lightly. “Fortunately, schatje, no. Stop looking as if you're going to murder me in my sleep.”

An involuntary smile blooms. “I wouldn't dream of it, Kaz.”

“Go on, then,” he says. “Be careful.”

You bite the insides of your cheeks to keep from smiling. “You too.”

With that, you part ways with Dirtyhands, entering the building. Your acquisition of the painting goes smoothly and the deal is closed swiftly a few hours later. It's too easy. You know it is. You're missing something.

Miss something, you did.

You push open the door to the Crow Club carelessly. The loud chatter mixed with atmospheric radio surges to meet you as you push your way past sweat-slicked bodies and drunken patrons. Your eyes dart back-and-forth, trying to spot the familiar curve of his black hat or the shiny glow of the head of his cane.

Jesper spots you from one of the open gambling tables.

“If it isn't my favourite thief,” he says, inclining his glass towards you. “Fancy a game?”

It isn't until you stop by his table that he sees the downward slope of your frown and the sharp glare you're giving. He instinctively sits up straighter, taking his shoes off of the corner of the table.

“Where's Brekker?” You ask, to-the-point, without indulging in your usual chit-chat whenever you visit.

The other three patrons on the table freeze—sensing the tension on your shoulders, too. They look between you and jesper, both confused and intrigued to know more. What is Ketterdam if it doesn't have rumours and secrets whispered about?

Jesper's brow furrow. “Are you okay? What's going on?”

To Jesper's knowledge, you and Kaz are on friendly terms, despite the frequent bickering. Hell, he assumes you're more-than-friendly, with the way Kaz gives you a nickname—an endearment, to be specific. Is it possible that you're going through a lover's spat?

“Brekker, Jesper. Where is he?”

A familiar rasp cuts through the rowdiness. “Here.”

Your head whirls around and you shoot an accusatory stare at the source of the voice. You stomp your boots as you make your way towards him. As you pass by him, you tug on the sleeves of his coat.

“We need to talk.”

“Hold on, schatje,” he says, still trailing after you. His cane knocks against the hardwood of the floor. “About what?”

You make your way up the stairs, to the second floor and swing the door to his office open as if it belongs to you. He has an eyebrow raised when he enters after you, closing the door behind him. He leans back against it, waiting for you to speak whatever it is that's on your mind.

“Kikkert,” you snarl. “You paid him to pay me.”

“That's quite a conclusion. How did you come to it?” His voice is level, not betraying whether or not you've spoken the truth.

You're pacing in front of him. “He says, and I quote, ‘If you're so close to Brekker, why doesn't he ask you himself to do this?'”

His eyes furrow and he runs a hand through his combed hair. He sighs, holding a hand up in a you-caught-me gesture. “Kikkert clearly has no idea what discretion means.”

You glare at him. “Do you think this is funny?”

He seems taken aback. “I don't see why this is a big deal, schatje. It's a job. You're paid. I get the painting. What's wrong with it?”

“Why are you doing this, then? Pay me for something you clearly are able to do yourself? Hell, whose painting was it? Was it yours? Did you pay me to steal from you?”

He doesn't reply, but the way he shifts his gaze away from you let's you know. It's as clear as a verbal admission.

“It was yours. That's why you were there. From your safehouse, wasn't it?” You stare at him in disbelief. “Is this amusing to you? I'm sorry if I don't quite see it as such.”

“Schatje—”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

You can't wrap your head around Kaz Brekker's thinking process. He pays someone to pay you to steal a painting he already owns. What's his plan in the long run? To embarrass you? Hurt your pride? Is this some sort of ploy to rope you to be indebted to him?

He sighes. “You were struggling. I only wanted to help.”

“Dirtyhands doesn't help people. You don't run gangs the way you do charities,” you retort.

Is that all you see him as? The demjin? The one who's willing to stain his hands for the right price? Is there no other version of him in your eyes?

“You're forgetting the man behind the monster here,” he says softly.

“Am I?” You approach him, leaving a little over two steps in-between the two of you. “Who exactly is the man behind Dirtyhands then?”

He pushes himself off of the door, taking one step forward. The thump of his cane practically echoes in the room. The hustle bustle of the Crow Club is nothing more than a muffled sound. There's a sudden tension in the air—the same one that hangs over you whenever he calls you his schatje, but this one is heavier due to your lack of light-hearted banter to parry.

“Do you really not know?” he asks, as if the question is staring at you in the face. As if it's the most obvious thing in all of Kerch. His stare is heavy, dark irises acting like magnets that pull you in. He scoffs, “You really are dense.”

“Well, enlighten me, Brekker! None of this is making a lot of sense to me.” You let out a frustrated huff of breath. Your hands move wildly to stress your points. “You know what? Whatever it is, I don't want to know. Just — quit doing it. I'll never take another job from Kikkert. I'll stay away from your damned club and all your friends. I'll stay away from you. I'm a capable enough thief without your pity, Brekker. I don't need it. You can shove it up your—”

His gloved hand wraps around your wrist as it's flailing in the air. Your speech immediately comes to a halt and your eyes widen.

“You are impossible,” he says.

You snort. “And you aren't?”

“At the moment, no,” he retorts.

His stare is intense. It isn't until then that you realise you've taken a step forward during your rant, decreasing the perfectly amicable distance and turning it into a heart-thundering one.

“It wasn't pity,” he says. “You're capable, I have never doubted that, but even the most capable ones struggle sometimes. My intention is to help. Trust me on this. I know you're too prideful to accept any, so I paid Kikkert.”

“But why? Why bother?”

“Why?” He blinks, sighing loudly before continuing. “Why? Have you ever stopped and thought, for a moment, that I've been calling you schatje. Do you think that was out of pity?”

You bite the insides of your cheek and shake your head. “It was something else.”

“Has it ever crossed your mind that it's because —ghezen forbid— I may actually harbour fondness for you?”

You blink once, twice. Kaz thinks he much prefers breaking into the ice court than having this conversation right now. His hand trembles when he brings them to brush your cheekbone lightly. He lets out a relieved sigh when you don't pull back. Your hand wraps over his gloved one, the leather cold on your skin. You lean into the touch.

“I thought it was one-sided,” you say finally. “I'm quite fond of you, too, you know.”

“You do a horrible job of showing it.”

“Says you,” you argue. “Just—don't do it again. Let me handle my own problems, Kaz. I'll let you know if I need your help.”

He hums in agreement. “You'll let me know.”

“I will.”

The two of you jump apart abruptly when there's a loud knock.

“Boss?” Jesper's voice sounds muffled through the door. “Everything okay? I hope ___ hasn't murdered you yet.”

“I haven't,” you answer, half-chuckling. Turning to look at Kaz, you say, “It's funny how he doesn't assume you'll murder me instead.”

Kaz shrugs. “He knows I can't.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Can't or won't?”

“Both,” he answers. “Can we not talk about murdering each other after what just happened?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks. What just happened is you practically professing your little (well, maybe not-so-little) crush on him.

“So, is Kaz okay?” Jesper shouts again.

“Fine,” Kaz answers. “You can go back to your table.”

[ ]

i wanted to write something cute. schatje is taken from google and inspired from a kaz fic i read that used 'schatz' as a nickname. the plot is slightly ehhh? because it didn't really end the way i intended it to and i didn't proofread (when have i ever?). i was hoping to turn it into a two or three part series, but this is what we've ended up with & im quite happy with it. thank you for reading!

#kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x reader #—ki writes 🍯

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matchpointfaist · 5 months ago

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400 lux - art donaldson

cw; sexual content, drinking, language?? (if this is bad no one tell me!)

;; art and reader if he never met tashi

;we’re never done with killing time, can i kill it with you, till the veins run red and blue? we come around here all the time, got a lot to not do, let me kill it with you

you met art donaldson at the stanford class of 2010 mixer. you knew him by then, of course, everyone did. he was art donaldson, six time grand slam champion and french open winner. in contrast, you were an english major with no real interest in tennis at all. your singular interest in the sport was art himself, despite not knowing him, you knew he was the most beautiful angelic man you had ever laid your eyes on. it almost seemed like this entire mixer was made for him, the way everyone crowded around. eager to see the tennis prodigy in his prime, eighteen and sipping wine coolers and smiling politely. he was all blonde hair and red cheeks and, “yeah, thank you for having me!” that first night.

you hovered around the tables, sipping shirley temples and keeping to yourself. you noticed art slowly getting closer to the table you’d been occupying, making his way through the room. his blue eyes met yours and you quickly averted your gaze, desperate to avoid conversation. two minutes later, he stood in front of you, lazy smile on his face. “you enjoying this corner by yourself?” he asked, his tone light and slightly sarcastic. “yes, actually. i’m not a fan of crowds,” you replied. “i can relate to that. art donaldson,” he outstretched his hand to you, “and you are?” you told him your name, your cheeks heating as you shook his hand, “i know who you are. everybody here does.” “yeah, seems that way. do you play?” “oh, no. english major.” “ah, okay. so you’re a writer?” “aspiring, yes. hoping this will get me closer,” you said, feeling yourself slowly loosen up with the conversation. “i’m sure it will,” he smiled, and you wondered how a stranger could have blind confidence in you, “well, would you maybe want to get out of here for a minute? it’s stuffy and i need a smoke.” you tried not to let the surprise show on your face and nodded, “sure, i have a lighter in my bag.”

you and art sat on the balcony, a cigarette between his lips and his beer in your hand. “so, why stanford? why not go pro?” you asked. “wanted to be good for something else, i guess. not just hitting a ball with a racket, you know? not that there’s anything wrong with that, my best friend went pro straight away, just not for me i guess.”

“patrick, right? your friend?” “yeah, patrick. he’s more of a career player, more confident. he’ll stay pro while i’m here playing.” “i can see you as a career player,” art’s face reddened slightly at that, “i mean, you’re already winning every match, right?” “well, most of them. it’s more than that though, you have to have the stamina to keep it up until your body can’t anymore. and i just don’t have that,” he said. his face looked twisted with an emotion you couldn’t place, but he kept his tone light and let out a quiet laugh. “well, you don’t have to do something forever to be good at it right now. just like you don’t have to win every game to be good,” “i disagree with the second part, but thank you, really. not everyday someone tries to relieve pressure for me.”

“i can imagine it’s not easy, being the art donaldson and all,” you smiled. “oh god, the art donaldson,” he laughed, rolling his eyes playfully. you shivered, the sudden breeze prickling your skin. “are you cold?” he asked, and when you looked over he already had his blazer halfway off. “no, no i’m okay! just a little chilly out here,” you protested, but he slid the jacket off entirely and handed it to you. your cheeks grew hot once again, and you hesitantly wrapped it around your shoulders. “you’re gonna get cold now,” you said guiltily. “no, i’m alright. at least i have long sleeves.” you regretted the strapless dress now, feeling silly for not taking the cool evening breeze into account when getting dressed. “it is getting late,” art sighed, “we’ve been out here for a while.” you glanced over at his watch, reading 1 am on the face. “oh jesus. i’m sorry i kept you out so late. let me take you home?” he asked. you bit your lip, anxious at the thought of being alone with him in his car, despite being alone with him for hours now. “sure,” you smiled. neither of you were ready to let the night end, anyway.

;you pick me up and take me home again, head out the window again. we’re hollow like the bottles that we drain. you drape your wrists over the steering wheel, pulses can drive from here, we might be hollow but we’re brave

you sat in the passenger seat of art’s jeep, your eyesight slightly fuzzy from the drinks you finished off before leaving the balcony. he was a vision of beauty in the glow of the passing streetlights, his wrists draped lazily over the steering wheel. radiohead played quietly from the car speakers, and you couldn’t hold back your surprise. “didn’t take you for a radiohead kinda guy,” you said, leaning over to turn the volume up slightly. “yeah, patrick got me into them,” he shrugged, looking over at you, “do you want the windows down? it’s stuffy.” “ooh, yes please.” he rolled down the front windows and opened up the sunroof, and you sighed with relief when you felt the breeze in your hair. you sat up, sticking your hands out the sunroof and laughing.

“this is so cool, i wish my car had one of these,” you said, raising your voice over the wind. “you’re beautiful,” art said from below you, and your face instantly grew hot as you sat back in your seat. “well, thank you,” you said, unable to look at him. “sorry, i just had to tell you, i didn’t mean for it to come out so fast,” he rambled, a passing light revealing he was also blushing. “no no, it’s okay! i just don’t know what to say, but i appreciate it, thank you,” you replied, subconsciously playing with your hair. “you’re the first, like, real person i’ve talked to at all these bullshit mixers. everybody else is just kissing up or asking me the same five questions about tennis and patrick and tashi.” your eyebrows raised at tashi’s name, having forgotten about her. “were you and her, i mean not to be rude, but i heard she was your girlfriend,” “oh, no. she’s patrick’s girlfriend, we’re just all friends. we met at one of tashi’s adidas events a few months back. i’ve heard the rumors though.” “oh, okay. well you’re also one of the only real people i’ve met since i even started my interviews here. i like that,” you smiled appreciatively, “oh, and you can turn up here. it’s the marriott on the right.” “you didn’t tell me you were staying in a hotel. have you not moved down yet?” “well, i just can’t really afford to rent so i’ve just been driving down and staying the night for the events until the dorms open. kinda embarrassing,” you explained, your face hot.

“i don’t think its embarrassing, stuff happens. you could stay in my extra room, if you wanted. so you don’t have to leave early in the morning for check out,” he said. “oh, i couldn’t. it’s okay, i promise. me and this marriott have gotten pretty well acquainted,” you joked, still freshly embarrassed. “i really don’t mind, i could even help you get your bags from the room.” “no, i promise it’s okay. i didn’t want you to feel bad for me or anything-” you started. “it’s not that i feel bad, it’s just that i have this spare room i don’t use and you’d have to be up early to check out when i’m the one who kept you out late. plus, we could keep talking, and we could get breakfast tomorrow, get you more familiar with the area,” he said, his tone pleading. “fuck it, why not? let’s go get my stuff,” you gave in, unbuckling your seatbelt.

you took the elevator up to the fourth floor, leading art through the halls and into your room. “i don’t have much, just give me five minutes,” you told him, grabbing your toiletries and throwing them into your suitcase. as you entered the bedroom, you blushed as you followed his gaze to your black bra flung onto the floor from the night before. “oh, i’m sorry,” you cringed, shoving it into your suitcase quickly. “no, it’s okay. sorry,” you gathered the rest of your things quickly, trying to ignore the awkward silence that fell over the two of you. “okay, i’m all packed up,” you said finally, wheeling your suitcase to the door and grabbing your purse. “here, let me,” art said, taking the suitcase handle from your hands and closing the door behind you, “all set?” “yep! ready whenever you are.”

a short drive later, you were pulling into one of the nicest apartment complexes you’d ever seen. he put in his gate code, driving slowly through the lot until you reached one of the furthest buildings. “this is beautiful,” you said, thinking of your parents small house back in your hometown. “it’s nice, i’m very grateful,” art said humbly, parking and turning off his jeep. he got out, rushing around to open your door before you could get out. “oh, thank you,” you said shyly, stepping down out of your seat. “here, just let me grab your bags and we’ll walk up,” he said, pulling your suitcase from the backseat and locking the car. he lead you to his apartment, unlocking the door and pushing it open for you. you walked in slowly, taking in the big open living room and the massive tv on the wall.

“oh, wow,” you mumbled, looking all around you. “it’s not decorated much, i’m only staying here until the dorms open. my parents keep it rented so i summer here and they can stay here when they visit during the academic year,” he explained. “oh, that makes sense. this is really nice, art.” “thank you, i can’t really take credit but i’m glad you like it,” he laughed, pulling your suitcase over to a closed white door. he pushed it open, flipping on the light switch. the guest room had a massive fluffy white bed, another large tv mounted above the dresser.

“you can unpack in here, there’s a bathroom attached if you need to shower or anything,” he said, walking further into the room, “and you can put your clothes in the wardrobe if you don’t want them to get wrinkled. i have extra of my body wash in the shower if you don’t have any, feel free to use it. and my parents usually keep toothpaste in there as well.” “thank you so much, art. i think i’ll take you up on that shower, but i have my toiletries with me. seriously, thank you. this is so kind,” you said graciously. “oh, of course. do you wanna watch a movie or something when you’re done? i’m wired,” “sure, i’d like that. meet in the living room after?” “the living room tv is actually broken, the screen shattered when i was moving it. the one in my bedroom is alright, though, or there’s yours in here. but there’s no dvd player in here,” he scratched the back of his neck, biting his lip. “oh, your room is fine. i’ll be out in twenty,” you said, grabbing your bag and heading for the bathroom. “okay, see you then, just yell if you need anything.”

you took your shower quickly, nerves growing at the idea of watching a movie alone in art’s bedroom. you felt silly and giddy like a middle schooler, so nervous about being alone with a boy. he made you feel comfortable, though, and you knew he wouldn’t do anything you weren’t okay with. after your shower, you put on your black pajama set and padded into the hallway. “hey art, i’m done!” you called, unsure of where he’d gone throughout the apartment. “yeah, i’m in here! the doors open,” he called back, and you followed his voice to his bedroom. he was sat on his bed, shirt off, awkwardly twisted around applying some sort of a wrap to his lower back. “oh, sorry,” you said, averting your eyes quickly. “oh, no it’s okay. i’m just doing my kinesiology tape, my physical therapist has me doing it every night,” he explained.

“do you need help? that looks like a hard angle.” “i would really appreciate it, actually,” he said, turning to you, “normally i can do it but it’s a bit farther down today.” “yeah, no problem,” you crossed the room, sitting down beside him hesitantly, “so you just stick it on?” “yeah, just where i have that first piece.” you nodded, cutting off a piece of the tape and studying it. you moved to place it and his breath hitched as you brushed against the bare skin of his back. your face heated up and you hurriedly applied it, your fingers trembling slightly. “is that good?” you asked, biting your lip.”yeah, that’s perfect. thank you,” he said, his voice trembling like your fingers had been. you traced the light pink scar across his shoulder absentmindedly, “what happened here?” “oh, nothing major, i fell during a match when i was a kid and had to get stitches,” he said. you could feel your pulse quickening, the realization of your closeness striking you all at once. you pulled away from him, pulling at the edge of your shorts to occupy your hands. “was the shower alright?” he asked, gaze lingering on your still wet hair. “yeah, it was really nice. thank you,” “of course. i’m really glad you came,” he smiled, leaning back onto his pillow, “you can lay or sit wherever. do you want a drink or anything?” “i’ll take a water if you don’t mind, thanks. do you want me to get the movie started?” “yeah, you can pick whatever you want. the dvds are on the shelf by the dresser,” he said, walking to the kitchen. you picked through his movies, settling on match point and laughing to yourself at the irony. you placed it in the player, settling back onto his bed. he came back a few minutes later, handing you a water bottle and opening a sprite for himself. “match point? really?” he said, laughing under his breath. “i just couldn’t pass it up,” you grinned, heart fluttering at the sight of him. he really was beautiful, hair mussed from his pillow and his eyes half lidded from relaxation. he laid down, stretching out and pulling the throw blanket over his legs. “you can lay down if you want, help yourself to the blankets,” he said, looking over at you. you nodded, propping yourself up with a pillow and pulling the comforter up to your hips. the two of you watched the movie in silence for a while, and you felt your eyes threatening to close from exhaustion. “if we keep just laying here in silence i’m gonna fall asleep,” you said quietly, rubbing your face. art rolled over to face you then, smiling. “let’s talk then. tell me something interesting about you,” he said. “like what? we talked for hours tonight,” you laughed, “i don’t have any secrets left.” “oh i’m sure you have to have at least one,” he grinned, “i’ll tell you one if you tell me one.” “fine. let me think,” you pretended to be deep in thought, finally settling on, “i couldn’t ride a bike until i was fifteen.” he laughed, his head tilted back, and you wanted to kiss him there, just under his jawline. the thought caught you off guard, and you blushed, scolding yourself mentally for being this hung up over someone you had only just met. “that’s hilarious. could you just not get the hang of it?” “no, i just fell every time, it was pathetic,” you said, breathless from laughing.

“i love that. do you like to ride them now? or are you scared?” “oh, i love them now. i’d bike everywhere if i could,” “we should go biking together, you’ll need one on campus anyway. much faster than just walking,” you blushed at the idea of art still having interest in you after tonight, let alone into the school year. “yeah, that would be fun. you’ll probably be really busy though, being art donaldson and everything,” you said, slightly teasingly but slightly serious. “i hate being art donaldson if it means i’m too busy to hang out with you,” he said, and you watched as his cheeks reddened to match yours, “i mean, if you wanted to, obviously. i don’t know what your plans are or anything for the year.” “i’d love that. just don’t feel like you have to pencil me in or anything,” you told him. “when are you going home?” he asked, biting his bottom lip. “i’m supposed to leave tomorrow. i’ll be back in two weeks for orientation and move in,” “you could stay here,” he said, and your breath faltered with shock. “two weeks is a long time, art, i mean thank you of course but i couldn’t possibly-”

“i’d like it if you stayed, if you wanted to. you don’t have to go home, is all i mean. i just, i’m so sorry but can i kiss you?” he rambled, inching slightly closer to you. “yes,” you whispered, and he closed the gap between the two of you, pressing his lips to yours. he tasted like sprite and mint chapstick, and your heart skipped a beat at the feeling of his lips against yours. his hands came to your face, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. you broke away after a minute, your breath erratic and face completely flushed, and art’s eyebrows furrowed.

“are you okay? i shouldn't have moved so fast, i just-” “no, it’s okay. i liked it,” you said, trying to keep your tone soothing, “i just don’t do this, i don’t kiss boys i don’t know, and i really feel connected to you and i just don’t want to be humiliated,” “i wouldn’t humiliate you, i feel the same way. i don’t want you to feel rushed, i don’t usually do this either-” you cut him off, pressing your lips to his once again, and sighed softly into his mouth. he brought you closer, pulling your leg up over his hips and running his fingers through the air framing your face. the two of you grew closer and the kisses more frantic, and you positioned yourself on his lap, deepening the kiss and settling your hands in his hair. he pulled back then, and you could have died and gone to heaven at the sight of his red, freshly kissed lips. “we should slow down, i don’t want to do anything impulsive,” he said, placing a long kiss to your cheek, “not that i don’t want you, i just think we should wait.” you nodded in agreement, sliding off of his lap and laying on your side, facing him. “that was, i mean i’m not used to that and you’re really good at that,” you breathed, acutely aware of how naive you must have sounded.

“i’m not used to that either, patrick was always the one who had all the girls, i’ve never just done that, but i feel like i really know you,” he said, pulling your hand to his mouth and pressing kisses to your fingers, “please think about staying. i don’t want you to feel like you have to, but you could stay here, just in the guest room if that’s what you want. i can show you around palo alto, you could come to some of my matches if you wanted. you should get comfortable with the area, at least.” “i’ll think about it, art. i need to work, though, i’ll have to find a serving job here,” “you can stay here and not worry about bills or anything, i promise. you don’t have to worry about it,” “i can’t just freeload off of you, we just met,” you sighed. “it’s not freeloading, i’m asking you to stay,” another kiss to your wrist this time, “i’d really really like it if you stayed.”

you woke up several hours later, art’s arm around your torso and his smell enveloping your senses. you opened your eyes slowly, taking in his bedroom in the morning light streaming through his windows. you carefully pulled his arm away from you, attempting to roll over, when he groaned quietly. “it’s too early,” he protested, reaching for you again. “just need to use the restroom and brush my teeth, art,” you said, kissing his cheek quickly, “and call my parents to tell them i’m staying.” at this, his eyes shot open, a smile on his face immediately. “you’re staying? really?” “yeah, fuck it, why not?” you said, calling back to then night before, “i’ll be back soon.” you went through your morning routine and picked up your iphone and calling your mom.

“hey, honey,” her familiar voice came through the speaker, “are you headed home?” “hey, mom. i actually wanted to talk to you about something, i know this sounds crazy but i’m thinking about staying?” you said, phrasing it like a question, though you knew she wouldn’t protest. “staying where? i thought the dorms weren’t open for two weeks,” “yeah, that’s the crazy part,” you laughed lightly, “i met this boy, and this is insane but he said i could stay in his guest room and we’re really getting on, mom. i really like him,” “oh god, staying in his guest room? so you’re staying in his room,” she said sarcastically. “no, not now anyway. i don’t know, we’ll see what happens. i have a lot of money put back from serving, in case anything happens. so you don’t have to worry about that. and he’s really sweet, i’m not worried,” “what is this boys name?” you bit your lip at the dreaded question. “um, his name is art.” “art? that’s cute, like that tennis boy,” she laughed. “yeah, actually, it’s art donaldson. you know he goes here, now. it’s his first year too.” she hesitated, before asking, “art donaldson, really? are you sure about all this, honey? i mean, the boy is famous,” “yes, i’m sure, i promise. i’m safe and happy and if anything changes i’ll be home as soon as possible,” “alright, baby. if you’re sure, just please be safe,” she sighed, resigned. “yes ma’am. i’ll send photos!” you reassured, “i love you, i’ll see you soon,” “i love you too, see you soon.”

you re-entered art’s room, smiling as you saw him stretching in the floor. “i talked to my mom, we’re all set. i’m definitely staying,” you said, sitting down in the floor beside him. “i’m so happy you’re staying, i know it was spur of the moment but i promise it’ll be worth your time,” he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek and leaning back down into his stretch, “i’ll be done in a few minutes, i’m just getting my stretch in. i had some practice matches today with my hitter, but i was able to get them moved. what would you like to see first?” “oh art, you didn’t have to do that,” “i didn’t mind, besides i could use a day off after last night,” “i guess so,” you shrugged, leaning back on your arms to watch him stretch. “there’s a massive farmers market further into the city, if you’d like to go there. we could stock up for our stay-cation,” he said, then cringed, “god, i cannot believe i just said stay-cation.” “that sounds good, but please don’t ever say that again,” you laughed. “i’ll be ready in like twenty, is that good with you?” you nodded, standing up and stretching your arms, “i’ll just run and get dressed for the day then.”

you threw on one of the only outfits you had left in your suitcase, a black summer dress and your converse, and braided your hair quickly. by the time you were done, art was quietly tapping on the guest room door. you were greeted by the sight of him in running shorts and a us open souvenir shirt, a stark contrast of his formal wear from the evening prior. “ready?” he asked. you blushed as you followed his eyes to the neckline of your dress, “ready.”

now we’re wearing long sleeves, and the heating comes on. you buy me orange juice, we’re getting good at this. dreams of clean teeth, i can tell that you’re tired. but you keep the car on, while you’re waiting out front.

art pulls his jeep into the crowded farmers market lot, once again rushing to open your car door for you and helping you out. just like before, you blush, thanking him quickly. “so, where to first? they’ve got everything in sections, fresh veg on one side, fresh fruit, crafts,” art pointed to the various spots in the market, and you were glad at least he knew where he was going. “hm, maybe fruits? i’d love an orange right now, in this heat,” you said, and he nodded. you smiled as he slipped your hand into his, leading you slowly through the winding crowds of people. you stopped at a fruit stand, in awe of the amount of beautiful fresh oranges, peaches, and grapefruits. “just grab whatever you want, i got it,” art said, leaning closer to you, his breath brushing over your ear. a shiver ran down your spine despite the heat, and you nodded, bagging up some navel oranges and passing them to the attendant. art handed the woman a bill, and you were whisked off to the next booth.

the day was spent with handfuls of produce, and art taking any opportunity to make you laugh. it went by much quicker that either of you would have liked, but you were grateful, in a way, to have art all to yourself again. you hadn’t considered that people would stop him for photos or autographs, but there were at least a dozen tennis fans he had to attend to. you didn’t care much for excessive attention, so it was stressful for you, but you were happy to see how well receptive he was to it. he looked truly in his element, smiling politely and introducing you to anyone who asked. by the time four oclock came around, you loaded everything back into art’s jeep and discovered seventeen missed calls from your mom. your heart rate immediately rose with panic, and you called her back quickly, your breath faltering.

art placed a supportive hand on your arm as you explained and waited on the phone to ring. finally, on the third call back, your mom answered, her voice thin, “honey, i’m sorry to interrupt but we need you back home. your brother’s had an accident, he’s alright but he’s in the hospital in sacramento.” “oh my god. is he okay, what happened? i can be there soon, don’t worry,” “he’s okay, he’s in with the doctors now. his truck flipped on the highway, someone hit him from the side. how soon can you be here?” “give me just a couple hours, mom. i’ll meet you at the hospital, i love you,” you hung up, tears brimming your eyes. “art, i’m so sorry but i have to go home, my brothers been in an accident,” you said, just as the tears started to spill. “oh, i’m so sorry. what hospital? i’ll drop you off, you shouldn’t be driving like this. i can let you out at the door so i don’t disturb anyone,” he said, and more tears spilled as he affectionately wiped some away from your cheeks. “i would appreciate that so much. it’s sacramento community, it’s about an hour and a half. thank you so much,” you cried, wiping your face on your shirt.

the drive there was quiet, art periodically checking on you and running his free hand down your back soothingly. by the time you arrived at the hospital, you had bitten your lips raw from worry. he pulled up to the main entrance and slowed the car to a stop, putting his hazards on quickly. “thank you so much, again, i’m so sorry for all of this,” you said, unbuckling your seatbelt. “i promise i don’t mind at all. let me know how he is, okay? here, put your number in my phone,” he said, handing it to you. you nodded, typing in your number rapidly and then, with slight hesitation, typing your home address. “i added my address, if you wanted to come by, or if you need to rest from driving,” you told him, “i’ll call you when i’m done here?” “i’d love that. let me know if you need anything, don’t let me hold you up,” he said. you nodded, waving goodbye and shutting his car door before rushing into the hospital.

you made it into the room, frantically checking on your family. your brother was in stable condition, but his right leg was broken, meaning he’d need someone to help take care of him once he was released from the hospital. your mom’s face was puffy from crying, and your heart panged at the sight. “here, mom, why don’t you just come sit down? the doctor said he’s alright now, no need to fuss,” you said gently, pulling her to the waiting area. she hesitated but followed you, holding onto your arm shakily. “i’m sorry it took me so long, i was in palo alto with art,” you apologized. she just shook her head, squeezing your hand reassuringly, “it’s alright, honey. i knew you’d be here when you could. did he drop you off?” you nodded, “i gave him the address and told him i’d meet him back there if he wanted to wait.”

“good, i’d like to meet him. visiting hours end at seven, they’re keeping him overnight for observation and we’ll have to come get him in the morning. it’s six fifty now, did you want to go see him before we go? he’s asleep, but you can go in,” she said. “yeah, i’ll go in. i’ll see you back out here soon,” you walked to your brothers hospital room, nervous all over again. he looked so pitiful, your heart just broke at the sight of him. guilt from being so far away when it happened gnawed at you, second thoughts of stanford creeping into your mind. you smoothed your brothers hair gently, kissing the top of his head and leaving the room quietly, careful not to disturb him. after some deliberation with your mom, you decided to ride back to your house, and return for your brother in the morning. on your way down, you called art, your voice timid. he answered on the first ring, “hey, is everything alright?” “yeah, he’s okay. visiting hours ended, so we have to go home,” you explained, “did you end up driving back to your apartment?”

“no, course not. i ran to pick up some pizzas, i figured your family wouldn’t feel like cooking, and i didn’t want you to be hungry. i was gonna drop them off,” your heart swelled, tears falling once again. “oh, art. that’s so sweet, thank you. we’ll be home in about ten minutes, we live close,” you said, “is that okay?” “yeah, of course, i’ll be there,”

the drive back to your house went quickly, once you explained to your mom what art was doing there. she smiled appreciatively , her demeanor quiet with exhaustion. “he sounds like a sweet boy, baby. i’m happy for you,” “oh, thank you mom, but we’re just friends now. i hardly know him,” “well, regardless, he’s a good man in my books, bringing you home so quickly,” you nodded, undoubtedly agreeing.

when you arrived home, art was parked in the drive, six pizza boxes in his passenger seat. he rushed to hug you as you approached him, whispering, “you alright?” you nodded into his chest, trying to fight back tears for what felt like the fiftieth time. “he’s gonna be alright, i’m just overwhelmed. you’ve been such a big help, thank you art.” “of course, it’s the least i can do with all this happening. here, i’ll carry the pizzas inside and leave you to it,” “oh, stay for dinner, please. it’s only fair,” “are you sure? i’m sure your mom is overwhelmed, i don’t want to impose,” “i’m sure, i promise. she’ll probably head to bed right after dinner, anyway. it’s been a long day,” “alright, if it’ll make you happy,” he smiled lightly, “i’ll grab the pizzas, just show me the way,” you lead him up the path to your front door, feeling silly once again for the nerves bubbling in your stomach. you’d never brought a boy home, let alone someone like art. you pushed the thought from your mind as you lead him into the living room, calling out for your mom.

“in the kitchen, honey,” she called back. you lead art to her voice, smiling shyly and gesturing to the room. “art, this is my mom. mom, this is art donaldson,” you introduced them. “oh, it’s great to meet you!” she gushed, shaking his hand. “oh, you too, miss,” he smiled. “i’m sorry to disappoint, but i think i have to turn in early. i appreciate the dinner so much, but i just don’t have much of an appetite after today. art, feel free to spend the night, i know palo alto is a ways away. and honey, i’ll see you in the morning, come get me if you need me, alright? i love you,” you hugged her quickly, “goodnight, mom. i love you too,” “so, pizza?” art said quietly, and you nodded, gesturing to the dining table. “i’ll grab some napkins, do you want a drink? we have water, sweet tea and coke,” “i’ll do a sweet tea,” he said, opening up one of the pizza boxes. you poured your drinks and joined him at the table, tearing into your slice quickly,

“god, i was starving.” “me too, i’m glad i picked this up,” “thank you again, art. seriously, i can’t thank you enough, for everything. you didn’t have to do all of this,” “i promise you i didn’t mind.” “do you want to stay? i mean, you don’t have to, but we have my brothers room or the living room, i’d hate for you to have to drive home this late,” “i wish i could, i really do, but i’ve got practice runs in the morning to make up for today. i can come back and get you, though, after they discharge your brother,” he said apologetically.

“oh, okay. i actually better stay, now, until orientation. mom’s gonna need help taking care of him, and i don’t want to leave them right now,” his face fell, but he quickly recovered it, careful not to let his true feelings sway your decision. “oh, yeah of course, that makes sense. well, i’ll see you in two weeks, anyway. that’s not so long,” he smiled weakly. “yeah, not too long at all. plus i can call you! you’ll have to let me know how your practices go,” “yeah, of course. and you’ll have to let me know how he’s healing up, alright? can i come get you for orientation, or is your mom bringing you? where is your car, by the way?” your face reddened slightly, “um, my mom’s car is my car. i never really needed one, since she doesn’t work full time and i worked so close to home. we figured it would be cheaper, especially since i won’t be driving on campus,” “oh, yeah that makes sense! well, i’ll come get you for orientation, then. morning of, or night before?”

“probably night before, i think that works best,” “perfect. well, i’ll let you get to bed, get some rest. i will see you in 13 days, then,” he smiled, holding his arms out for a hug. you blushed, leaning into his chest and inhaling the fresh scent of his cologne. “13 days,” you repeated, tilting your head back to look up at him. his breath fanned against your face, and you played back the memory of his minty lips on your own. “can i kiss you goodbye?” he said quietly. you nodded, and before you could say yes aloud, his lips were on yours once again. you smiled into the kiss, trying to memorize the feeling in case he changed his mind over the next two weeks. he pulled away hesitantly, resting his forehead against yours, “well, i better go then, or i won’t ever want to leave,” he laughed. “goodnight, art,” you whispered, “see you soon,” he pressed another quick kiss to your lips and pulled away, grabbing his keys from the table and heading for the door. you followed him out, waving to him from your front porch and watching sadly as his jeep departed your driveway. thirteen long days to go.

your brothers recovery was fairly quick. he couldn’t use his leg, of course, but had gotten very adept to wheeling himself in his chair. you talked to art most nights over the phone, smiling to yourself as his crackly voice told you all about his tennis practices and rigorous training. he sounded exhausted, and you felt silly for letting worry creep into your mind. after all, he was art donaldson, he was used to it. you told him stories of your day to day routine, mostly consisting of providing your brother with meals and making sure your mother wasn’t worrying herself sick, or working herself ragged. day twelve snuck up on you, your mom entering your room bright and early to help you pack.

“oh, i can manage, but thank you mom,” you told her, opening up your biggest suitcase and beginning to roll your clothes up. “well, at least let me keep you company before you go,” she said, propping herself at the edge of your bed. “of course you can,” you smiled, happy to get some time in with her before you left. “so, art?” she grinned. “what about him?” “i’ve heard you up at night on the phone with him, honey. sounds like more than a friend to me, with those hour long conversations. are you serious about him?” “nothing is official yet, i do like him, but i worry about school starting,” you said, anxiously biting your lip, “he’s got a really intense schedule, and i’m sure some really intense girls interested in him. i don’t want to get too invested too soon,” “he seems like a sweetheart, but i do understand. just don’t keep yourself too closed off, darling. you’ll know if its right,” she reassured.

“thanks, mom. you’re right, i trust my judgment. he really is sweet, he’s a great person,” you smiled, thinking fondly of getting to know just how sweet he was. “well, you’ll see him soon, so i hope you’re confident in what you’re doing. he’ll be here at six, right?” “yeah, about then. i need to really focus on getting these things packed,” “alright, honey. i’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,” and with that, you were alone with your thoughts about art, and your mountains of clothes waiting to be packed away.

by five forty five, you were pacing in the hallway, biting at your fingernails. ‘this is just art’ you told yourself, ‘i was just with him, it’s nothing new.’ but you couldn’t stop the nagging thought that this would be the beginning of something really great, or you’d shy away and it would meet it’s end. at six on the dot, the headlights of his jeep shone through your window, and you quickly gathered your bags at the door. you’d told your brother goodbye much earlier, before his pain medication induced nap, and your mom was at work for the night. you opened the door, smiling widely as art came up the path.

“well hey stranger,” you grinned, “is that the art donaldson i see?” “oh, hush,” he said, gently pulling you to him and pressing his lips to yours. you were caught off guard, your balance faltering and you leaned closer into him. he held your jaw with one hand, his other arm circled around your waist, crushing you to his chest. the kiss went on for what felt like hours, two weeks of pent up affection spilling out. all your uncertainty melted away with each swipe of his tongue against your bottom lip, like he was pulling your anxiety from your body. you pulled away, chest heaving, and gazed up at him, “well hello to you too,” you breathed. “i missed you,” he grinned, “felt like you might’ve missed me, too.” “oh, i did, trust me. here, help me with these bags, and we’ll go,” he nodded, grabbing three of your bags and loading them into the trunk. you wheeled your last suitcase over, tucking it away, and smiled as he opened the passenger door for you. “i almost forgot what a gentlemen you are,” you said teasingly, settling into your seat. he got into his own, cranking up the car, and settled his hand on your thigh, “forgetting me that quickly? terrible,” he teased back, his voice low. “i could never,” you reassured him, placing your hand over his, “now let’s try this apartment again.”

the drive back to palo alto went quickly, but the nerves eating away at you reminded you of the drive away from it just two weeks prior. you wondered what the expectations might be, coming to art’s like this, the night before orientation. not that you weren’t interested, but you weren’t sure if the timing was right, and you weren’t sure if art even wanted that. your imagination was running wild with images of the night, though, of what it would be like to be that close to him again. art was quiet most of the drive, too, and you wondered what thoughts occupied his own mind. by the time you arrived back at his apartment, your nails were bitten to the quick and your lip was patchy and raw. “well, here we are,” he smiled, “should we unload your bags, or just leave them for the morning?” “we can just leave them, i’m tired of looking at them,” you joked, “thank you, though.” “of course. well, let’s go then.”

when you re-entered the apartment, you immediately noticed a difference. where the couch had been bare before, it was now covered in fluffy decorative pillows and a plush throw blanket. on the bar sat a vase of white flowers, and you thought you smelled a scentsy warmer. “did you decorate, or are your parents already moving in for the year?” you wondered aloud. “i, uh, i decorated. i figured you’d be a little more comfortable if it didn’t look so department store display here, and it needed a little warming up anyway,” he explained, blushing slightly, “what do you think?” “well, i thought it was beautiful anyway. but it looks great, art, you did a great job,” “and i stocked up the guest bath for you, i didn’t know what scents you liked best so i kinda just picked them out,” he said shyly, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “you really didn’t have to, but thank you, as always,” you giggled, “well on that note, i think i’ll shower. movie night again after?” “of course, i’ll be in my room,” he replied. you nodded, heading off for your shower.

art had stocked the bathroom to the brim, with vanilla and peach body wash and creams, and a very expensive bottle of perfume placed on the counter. you blushed at the thought of art in the store, smelling these things and imagining them on you. after your shower, you toweled off and got into your pajamas, heading to art’s room. the deja vu from that very first night was impossible to ignore as you entered to a shirtless art on his bed. “was everything in there good for you?” “yeah, it all smelled really nice, good choices,” you stretched out on the bed beside him, feeling oddly at home. he rolled over, pulling you into a hug against his chest and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“you do smell really good,” he mumbled into your hair, and your heart fluttered at the tone in his voice. “thanks to you,” you said quietly. “we could watch a movie, but i could stay here like this all night instead,” “me too.” you tried to ignore the feeling in your chest, and between your thighs, at his proximity to you. “so, orientation tomorrow,” art whispered, “are you nervous?” “not nervous, no. something similar but not quite nervous. i’m sure you’re excited,” “nah, i got enough of pretentious students in high school. training is gonna get really rigorous once classes start. i’m not looking forward to that,”

“i’m sorry, that must suck having that commitment on top of school,” “i don’t mind too much, just less time to spend with you, which isn’t ideal,” “i was thinking about that when i was home. what are we doing? i mean, not to sound weird or anything i’m just unsure of of what exactly we are, and you’ll be so busy,” you rambled, feeling silly and slightly embarrassed, “i don’t want you to feel obligated, just because you kissed me.” “i don’t feel obligated, i like you. can’t you see that?” “i didn’t want to assume, i like you too, of course. it’s just really intimidating,” “i know what you mean, trust me. i’ve never felt this way about anyone before,” “and what way would that be?” “like if i don’t see you courtside wearing my colors, i don’t see any point in competing anymore,” your face flushed, and you scooted even closer into his embrace.

“if you’re really serious about this, i want this. even if you’re not, i think i’m too far gone,” you tell him honestly. he tilted your face up to his, his breath fanning over your cheeks, “i’m really serious about this, i promise. i’m all in,” “me too, art.” he closed the gap between the two of you, his lips crashing into yours with the pent up intensity of all the emotions he had just laid bare. his large hands cradled the side of your head, pulling you even closer, like he was desperate for you. he leaned over you, hands all over now, his lips gently tugging on your bottom lip. you moaned into his mouth softly, pulling the edge of his shirt up his back.

the sudden intensity had you writhing in anticipation underneath him. his shirt was off in one fluid motion, and yours soon followed. he pulled away, leaving you gasping for breath, and bit at your neck gently, surely leaving a small mark. “are you sure about this? i don’t want to move too fast,” he panted into your neck, and you noticed his hips rocking into yours, almost absentmindedly. “yes, i’m sure,” you whined, pulling his face back to yours. he stopped you before you could connect your mouth with his, shaking his head, “i need you to tell me you want it, baby. need to hear you say it,” your face flushed scarlet, “i want it, art, please. i want it so bad, wanted it ever since i saw you,” you pleaded. in an instant, his joggers were off, meeting your shorts in a heap on the floor. he sat back on his knees, taking in the sight of you in just your thin bra and panties. “you’re so fucking beautiful,” he said, ghosting his mouth over your thighs, “so pretty.” you let out a quiet moan when he pressed a kiss to your clothed cunt, watching with lidded eyes as he kissed his way back up to your neck. he pulled you to his chest, unclasping your bra with shaky hands, and laid you back down gently. seconds later, his mouth was on one of your nipples, sucking and biting down lightly. you arched your back, tangling your fingers in his grown out hair and moaning out softly. “art, please,” you begged, squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to relieve some pressure.

“please what, baby?” his voice was low and rough as he pulled away from your chest, swiping his thumb over the now wet bud. “want you,” you whined, “please.” “want me where? want me to fuck you, hmm?” you nodded frantically. he looped his thumbs around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down teasingly slow. once they were pooled around your ankles, he pulled off his boxers, and you gasped at the sight of him. he crawled back above you, resting his arms on either side of your head. slowly, still teasing, he positioned his cock against your now dripping cunt, sliding against you. you chased his lips for a kiss, almost sighing in relief when you felt his mouth on yours once more. he slowly rutted his hips against you, kissing you with such a force you thought you might cum right there, just from the feeling of him. “art, please,” you pleaded, burying your face in his neck. “okay, baby,” he said softly, leaning back to take in the sight of you, begging for him, “are you sure you’re ready? is this your first? i just don’t want to hurt you,” you nodded, feeling a slight tinge of embarrassment, “yes, but i know i’m ready. i trust you, i’ll be okay,” you reassured him. that was all it took for him. he pulled your knees apart, his breath hissing as he tapped the head of his cock on your clit. your hips jerked, desperate for more of him. he held one of your hands, running his thumb across the back soothingly. he pushed inside of you slowly, your breath faltering at the feeling of him stretching you out. he stopped about halfway, looking at you with concerned brows, “are you okay, darling? i’ll stop if it’s too much,” you shook your head quickly,

“i’m okay, you can go all the way, please.” he leaned down to you, kissing you slowly and sliding the rest of the way into you. once he was all in, he stopped, pressing delicate, loving kisses to your jawline, “is that alright?” “yes, feels so good, art,” you whispered, “just fuck me, please, wanna make you feel good.” he stroked the side of your face, wiping away your stray tears from the pressure, and slowly pulled out of you, before fucking back into you with a force that took your breath away. his arms came behind your back, pulling you up to meet his chest as he fucked into you, all while leaving sloppy kisses and bites down your neck roughly. “fuck, art, you’re so big,” you cried, holding onto him tightly. “you’re just so fucking tight, baby, you feel so good, taking me so good,” he groaned, and you shivered at the feeling of his breath against your ear. his hands found their way to your clit, rubbing circles into you gently as his hips rocked back and forth quickly. “gonna cum,” you moaned out, digging your nails into his shoulderblades, “art, please, feels so good.” “come on baby, cum for me,” he encouraged, rubbing slightly harder and picking up the pace of his hips. he groaned loudly as he felt the contracting of your cunt around him, felt you shaking and moaning wildly as you came around his cock. “fuck, there you go, good girl,” he cursed, “gonna cum, jesus fucking christ you feel so good cumming around me,” he pulled out quickly, and you gasped at the thick, hot ropes of cum that landed across your thighs. he leaned back, catching his breath, rubbing your hip soothingly. “gonna get a towel and clean you up, baby, i’ll be right back,” he said quietly, standing up on shaky legs. he returned immediately, wiping your thighs with a warm washcloth, pressing kisses to your knees and hips as he worked. you could’ve dozed off just then, from the sheer comfort of art taking care of you, and the sheer exhaustion of what you just did. when he was done, he tossed the cloth into the floor and pulled his comforter around the two of you, his hands never fully leaving your body. “you did so good, love. i didn’t hurt you, did i?” “no, was amazing,” you reassured, your eyelids heavy. “good,” he smiled, “you can get some sleep, i know we have a big day tomorrow,” you cuddled closer to his chest, inhaling the fresh smell of sweat and sex and art. “mm, i guess so,” you said quietly, “goodnight, art,” “goodnight, baby.”

#art donaldson #art x reader #art donaldson x reader #challengers #challengers smut #art donaldson smut #challengers 2024 #patrick zweig #tashi duncan #art donaldson fic #artxreader #artdonaldson #Spotify

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cabbage20122 · 2 months ago

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Taming of the Shrew is so funny, like there's a story inside of another story, half of the characters in both are disguised as someone else, and the only character who actually gets everything he wants in the end does it by being as annoying as he possibly can.

Hortensio: I can't marry Bianca until someone marries her older sister, but I wouldn't wish that girl on any- hey Petruccio you said you wanted to marry rich, right?

Petruccio: Your daughter is definitely in love with me, she's just pretending to hate me in front of other people because she's shy. Can we get married?

Baptista: How sweet! Absolutely

Katherine, standing right next to him: the audacity-

Katherine: sister bonding~ tell me who you have a crush on!

Bianca, crying: please untie me

Lucentio: I'm not actually a tutor, I switched places with my servant to woo you in secret

Bianca: Good start, but you call this wooing? You can do better

There's some old guy named Gremio who also wants to marry Bianca but he doesn't really do much

The wedding is not shown, but apparently Petruccio shows up hours late dressed in the most ridiculous articles of clothing he could find (and all of them are clashing) and riding a horse riddled with every disease under the sun (intestinal worms, tumors, a stuffy nose, etc.) punched the priest, and threw wine in his face because his beard was so thin it looked hungry.

On the way to his house, Katherine's horse falls in the mud and somehow lands on top of Katherine

Grumio, shivering: hey I've been sent to make sure the house is ready. Also can you light a fire?

Curtis: are they coming to the house now?

Grumio: yes, now about that fire

Curtis: is she as rude as they say?

Grumio: please I'm so cold

Curtis: i want gossip

Katherine, sleep-deprived and starving: can I have some food?

Grumio: sure would you like some beef and mustard?

Katherine: yes, that sounds great!

Grumio: ah, but the mustard might make your stomach hurt

Katherine: that's OK, I'll just have beef

Grumio: well, I can't just give you beef without mustard. . .

Katherine: just give me something I don't care

Grumio: would you like just mustard

Katherine, hangry: would you like to die

Petruccio: this dress is horrible, I didn't order this!

Tailor: your servant gave me instructions on how to make it, I just followed those

Grumio: ok but I didn't instruct you to make it ugly

Lucentio, conning a foreigner into pretending to be his dad so he and Bianca's dad can discuss the marriage between Bianca and the servant pretending to be Lucentio: I'm such a genius this plan can't possibly go wrong

Lucentio's actual dad: I think I'll go visit my son

Petruccio: it's 7 am, so if we leave now, we'll get to your father's house at lunchtime

Katherine: it's 2 pm, we won't get there til supper

Petruccio: do you have to disagree with everything i say? Maybe we won't go

Katherine: wait no I want lunch-

Lucentio: hi dad, meet my new wife!

Vincentio: . . .

Lucentio: Ok I'm sorry I got you arrested for impersonating yourself but in my defense-

Petruccio: wow, the moon is so bright

Katherine: it's the middle of the day, that's the sun

Petruccio: again with the arguing? Let's go back

Hortensio: are you kidding me we walked all this way

Katherine: WOW, LOOK AT THE MOON

When they finally get to the house for dinner, Katherine and Petruccio win a bet against the other couples and brag about how they're better than everyone there.

And the whole thing is just an elaborate prank on some random drunk guy WHO IS NEVER MENTIONED AGAIN AFTER ACT 1

#Shakespeare #taming of the shrew #abridged #i just think its funny #theatre

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goldenamaranthe-blog · 8 months ago

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Apple Seed 5: The Name Game

Buckle up, Buttercups. We got another long one here.

Charlie: (beginning to waddle from the cantaloupe sized bump in her belly as she makes her way towards her office) Ugh... This thing is starting to weigh a ton, and we're barely halfway there!

Vaggie: (walking with Charlie and holding her hand while rubbing her lower back) I know, babe. I know. Good news, though. You're not puking every morning and evening anymore.

Charlie: You have a good point. (enters the office and sits in her plush chair. She tries to lean over to untie her shoes but winces in discomfort, both from the baby belly pinching and how the heels are constricting on her sore hooves) *whiiiiiiiine* Vaaaaggiiiiieeeeee~

Vaggie: I gotcha, babe. Relax. (kneels down and removes the heels, watching amusingly as the hooves flex and spread in absolute glee from being freed, before sitting cross-legged on the floor and gently rubbing the soreness out of each hoof from tip to calf)

Charlie: (melts into her chair as the soreness and stiff muscles relax, tears instantly springing to her eyes) You- *sniff* You're an amazing wife, Vaggie. I don't *sniff-sniff* deserve you.

Vaggie: (rolls her eyes fondly as she continues massaging Charlie's hooves) So you say every day, hun. I'm just trying to take as much stress and ache away from you as possible.

Charlie: I say it every day because it's true...

-Pleasant silence spreads through the room-

Charlie: I have about an hour before I have to do anything.

Vaggie: (slightly perks up) Oh?~

Charlie: (wiggles excitedly) We haven't talked about baby names yet! Can we think of some now?

Vaggie: (not where her mind was going) Oh....

Charlie: Yeah! We should think of a couple to have on hand! Since we don't know the sex yet, can I-

Vaggie: Choose the girl names while I pick possible boy names?

Charlie: *gasp* How did you know?!

Vaggie: I watch you sketch names into your little baby notebook every night, babe. It's not rocket science. But, sure. I'm game. Do you want to throw a few out and the other can agree or disagree on the name?

Charlie: Yes! Okay! Me first! Rhiannon!

Vaggie: Rhiannon?

Charlie: Mm-hmm!!! And if she wants to go by a nickname like me, She can call herself Ria!

Vaggie: I guess that's alright.

Charlie: What about you?

Vaggie: Me? I don't know. I haven't thought of anything. I'm not exactly the creative type.

Charlie: Come on, Vaggie. I know you can come up with something!

Vaggie: Okay... Uh... CJ?

Charlie: CJ?

Vaggie: (blushes) Ya know... Charlie Junior?

Charlie: (big puppy eyes) Awwwww.... You want to name him after me? You're so sweet, Vaggie~ But pass. Not a fan of naming kids like that. Having you moan my name during sex would be ruined forever.

Vaggie: That's fair. (works a nasty knot out of Charlie's left calf muscle) You're turn.

Charlie: Lucy or Lily? Oh! Lucily!!!

Vaggie: After your parents?

Charlie: (nods relentlessly) Mm-hmm! My relationship with my dad has gotten a lot better since the war with the Exorcists. I think it'd be sweet.

Vaggie: You know he would cry worse than the baby when they arrive if we did that, right?

Charlie: Babe, I'M going to be crying worse than the baby when they arrive. What's your point?

Vaggie: (sarcastically) Ah, yes. The Morningstar theatrics. How could I have forgotten. (stands up, pulls a second chair over, and sits next to Charlie - gently stroking her hand over the taught skin of her belly) We're gonna have to get you new shirts and pants soon. I'm surprised we haven't had to yet.

Charlie: (groans) Don't remind me! I'm getting fat! ...Aurora?

Vaggie: Not fat, maternal. And not naming a daughter after the most useless Disney Princess. Next..... Santiago? Call him Diego for short?

Charlie: *gasp* How dare you?! Princess Aurora is.... she's..... okay, you got me there. You want to name our son after a saint? And how about Calista? Cali for short?

Vaggie: Ouph... never mind. Scratch that one..... So we go from Salvadorian to Greek names? That one's not so bad. I'm for Cali or Lucy. Rhiannon is on the fence.

Charlie: Okay, possible girl names. Check! You need to come up with one more boy name.

Vaggie: Hmmmm..... (drums her fingers gently against Charlie's belly)

Charlie: (giggles) Vaggie, that tickles.

Vaggie: (smiles) Sorry, hun. Let me see.... Well.... I'm not fully versed in the Bible or anything, but if we wanted to keep the motif of naming them after your folks. How about Samael?

Charlie: Samael? What does that have to do with my parents or the Bible?

Vaggie: Wasn't your dad's name Samael when he was in heaven? He only changed it to Lucifer after he fell???

Charlie: I.... I actually have no idea.

Vaggie: Well, we can name him Samael and call him Sammy for short? It won't be as confusing as calling him Lucifer, and I'm sure your dad will be over the moon having the baby be named after him anyway.

Charlie: (giggles again and swats Vaggie's hand off her belly) Vaggie, stop it! I said that tickles.

Vaggie: .....I didn't do anything.

Charlie: Huh?

Baby: (flutters again)

Charlie: *GASP* (holds her belly) VAGGIE, HOLY SHIT, THE BABY KICKED!!!!

Vaggie: What?! (plasters her hands to Charlie's belly)

..............

Vaggie: Nothing....

Charlie: Hmmmm.... (mental lightbulb turns on) Say the name again!

Vaggie: Samael?

Baby: (little flutter)

Vaggie: ............Sammy?

Baby: (big flutters)

Charlie: (crying quiet happy tears) Okay... Sammy... We got a name. We'll just think of a boy and girl version when they're born.

Vaggie:

#apple seed #apple seed au #chaggie #charlie morningstar #charlie #vaggie #baby names #vaggie is a fucking soft “daddy”#baby first kicks #I don't know shit about the bible #part 5 #YES I KNOW THIS ISN'T HOW THIS WORKS #I HAVE A CHILD 4FS #soft wifey #soft girlfriends #domestic chaggie #domestic #soft chaggie

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dirtylittlefairytales · 3 months ago

Text

Don't play with fire | - Part 2 - |

Autors Note: I recommend to read Part 1 first. This is going to be a rollercoaster, but I hope you like it. I liked writing it and I'm really happy I started writing again. Now I try writing smut too. If you like the song 'Unholy from Sam Smith' listening to it later on, made the scene better. At least I listened to it while I wrote the scene.

Also as before, english is not my first language, I hope I corrected most mistakes.

Summary: After having a panic attack and realizing that Cooper could be the Butcher., you tried living your life normally again, until you got a text from an unknown number. Should you go to the police? Half a year later everything is normal again, at least you think it is.

-> Writing in 'italic' is supposed to be the your thoughts

Warnings: Dark!Fic, Describing of a Panic attack, Age Gap! (Legal), Swearing! Praise! Alcohol consumption!, drugs!, bit of Smut, Angst!, Arguing

Rating: R

Word count: 7,4k

Tagging: @a-movie-that-youve-never-seen, @amethystblackkchaos, @hereforthehitsbaby, @waywardtigersandwich

That was your first panic attack you had in your life. You spend that day at the hospital, your mom picking you up in the evening. She didn’t pry for information, although she was very worried. When you got back to her house and sat in the living room over a hot tea, you told her everything– Though more like everything she could know.

You told her about the concert, how you weren’t feeling well because of the crowd of people. So you went home early, then your bike got stolen and your boss fired you after some nasty words. You said you didn’t know how you ended up at the hospital, you were just aimlessly walking and then woke up in the hospital. Remembering a lot of concerned voices around you but nothing more.

Seeing that you were near tears again your mom started to hug you for several minutes. You let it all out. All those bottle up emotions of the day. You just didn’t know what to do with all these emotions. It was too much, like you weren’t in control anymore.

“You know sweety, you should move closer again. Ah no disagreeing! Think about it. You know my grandparents also had their apartment. Please consider it, I worry about you.” she said, squeezing your shoulders. “You could save so much money!”

“Okay mom. I promise I’ll think about it, but not today. Let me find a new job first.” you tried avoiding the situation. She nodded

“Well, come one you can sleep in your old room today. Tomorrow I'll drive you to the mechanic so you can get your car back.”

“Thanks mom.”, she kissed the top of your head and pushed you towards the stairs. Shaking your head, you went up towards your old room. You could barely say no to anything, when it came to your mom. However, moving back was the one thing you didn’t want. It was stupid. You wanted to live independent and not in your moms apartment, where she probably wouldn’t even allow you to pay rent.

Stepping inside your room, everything looked as you last remembered it. Your mom tried to make it look like your old room. The big double bed near the window, with the one teddy bear on it. A small wooden closet near the wall. You closed the curtains on the window and went to bed.

On the bathroom mirror you could see a bruise starting to form on your shoulder, where Cooper had gripped it. Clearly you couldn’t wear something without sleeves the next few weeks.

Before going to sleep you checked your phone. You nearly forgot about it. There was nothing. No new contact, no number saved anywhere, everything was the same. You remember it clearly, he told you he had saved his number, but nothing. You checked your phone completely. Looked through everything, photos, deleted messages, deleted contacts. Still nothing.

‘Had he just been toying with you? Playing into your anxiety?’ After checking your phone for a second time you gave up. Maybe you imagined it, maybe you should just call it a day. As soon as you put your phone down and your head hit your pillow you were out. The events of that day were finally catching up with you.

Waking up the next day, you still felt exhausted but overall better. True to her word, your mom drove you to the mechanic, and reminded you to visit her once a week like you promised her on her last birthday. No more work excuses.

You promised, she was getting older and you did want to spend more time with her. She turned 59 this year. You loved her, she always did her best. Recently your grandfather passed away, leaving everything to your mom. Your grandparents had an estranged relationship with your mom, but seeing as she was their only child… she inherited it all. Now your mom could live without worries. She had a house and had a spare apartment. Seeing as they did have a bit of money.

Over the next week you wrote more job applications and went to a couple of interviews. Until you finally found yourself a new job. The company and boss seemed nice and you even got to work from home 10 days a month. Big plus and the pay was decent. You stayed in your apartment most of the time after the concert, fearing you might run into Cooper somewhere. You were quite paranoid. Fearing what he would do to you. Were you going to be next, if he was the Butcher?

With the new job, came new energy and you started to live again. Step by step you were going outside, to the office, meeting your friends or going out for drinks. Still sometimes, you looked around you. Feeling like someone was staring holes in your back.

The second panic attack came when on a day you were working from home. A few weeks had passed and overall it started like a totally normal day, just a few calls. Not much work to do that day and around lunch time you still wore your pajamas. When you went into the kitchen to cook, you suddenly got a text message from an unknown number. First you thought it was someone from work. Though, the number didn’t seem familiar, so maybe it was a customer? However, none had your private number. You opened the message and instantly knew who sent that text.

–You should watch the news. Unfortunately I must tell you that Spencer didn't seem to be very grateful. Sorry to disappoint you sweetheart. –

You dropped your phone, heart pounding in your chest. ‘Sweetheart– Was that Cooper? So he did have your number… Why should you watch the news?’ Slowly you crept down, picking up your phone from the floor and almost dropping it again. Your hands trembled so much.

After releasing a shuddering breath, you put your phone in your pocket and stepped towards your living room. One step at time, fearing you might fall if you walked too fast. Holding on to your sofa for dear life, you reached for the remote.

Turning on the TV, unsure of what you would find, you switched programs until you found the news channel. Your hands still trembling, you took deep breaths trying to calm yourself.

‘Maybe you should sit down?’ – Letting yourself fall onto the sofa you turned up the volume. You saw a lot of police in the background then view switched to the reporter, who started speaking

“Yesterday in the early hours, two hikers found something horrible on their daily hiking trail. We waited for further information from the police and we can now announce that the Butcher has found yet another victim. This marks the 13th victim of the Butcher.”

Your knuckles around the remote turned white from anticipation, your fingernails digging in your own palm. ‘Maybe you should stop with the acrylic nails’ You held your breath. They showed a photo of a young man on the screen. It wasn’t someone you knew.

“The victim seems to be a young man named Spencer–” Spencer.. That was the name he told you that day. You didn’t even listen to the rest of the news. Completely blending everything out, thoughts racing in your head. A sob escaped you, your whole body shook uncontrollably. Gasping for air, crying, you had your second panic attack. It felt even stronger then the first one, but maybe it was only because you were more aware now.

A part of you felt like you killed Spencer. You had thought he was just playing with your fear. It was your fault. ‘What have you done… you were right all along. Your sixth sense didn’t leave you. Why haven't you gone to the police? Were you an accomplice now? Why haven’t you told somebody? You could have saved him…’ The answer was simple. You hadn’t been 100% sure. Hell until now you thought you imagined most of his weird behavior, were overthinking it, writing it off as anxiety.

Helplessly you wandered around towards your kitchen in the search for a bag. When you finally found one, you sank down against your cupboard. Taking deep breaths with the plastic bag to calm your breathing. After calming down and just sitting silently in your kitchen for 20 minutes, you got up and shut down the TV.

‘You couldn’t go to the police, could you? What if they held you responsible for it because you didn’t say anything until now. You didn’t even know his last name or where he lived.’

A dry and humorless laugh escaped you. Putting your face in your hand, trying to come to terms with reality. Finally you pushed your hair back and grabbed your phone.

Pondering if you should write back? Try to get information from him and go to the police? Could you get burned even more? Thinking for another minute you decided against it. Panic and anxiety controlled your actions. Your course of action was going in the complete opposite direction. Simply deleting the message. Deleting the evidence, deleting a small part of your guilt– ‘out of sight out of mind’

You didn’t continue work that day, called in sick, went to bed and just stared aimlessly at the ceiling. Thinking about everything. About the concert, about every small detail you remembered. All the strange things you thought he did, but in the end you thought it was just your imagination.

This was so fucked up, why were you still alive and not locked up in some basement? Why were you still alive? He knew that you knew. By sending you that text, it almost seemed like he wanted you to know. It hardly made any sense to you. After hours and hours of thinking and getting a headache from it, you fell asleep rather exhausted.

Not even a day after you even changed your number, telling your friends and mom another lie. The excuse, you got too many spam calls on it, seemed to be good enough. You were that anxious that you were one step away from moving back into your mom's house. However you didn't want to exaggerate.

Everything you did, to feel secure didn’t help. The anxiety remained. Whenever you went outside you felt like a scared mouse, always looking around, getting in your car and inside the office building as quickly as possible. At first you looked for a black van, then you remembered that stupid little you had the great idea to reveal to him what the profiler said. Of course he was not driving that van anymore. Perhaps now he drove around in a girly pink car.

‘How could you have been so stupid?’, you wanted to bang your head against the table. You even judged Lady Raven for her naivety and here you were telling the Butcher what car to not drive. What to look out for. You helped him even further, by not going to the police. He must have been laughing at you in his head. What a fucking joke. He also must have realized what effect he had on you, using that for his advantage. That for one you found him attractive, on the other hand you were intimidated by him. You were glad you were still alive, but it also made you nervous.

A month later and nothing new from the Butcher and no strange occurrences you finally started to relax again. Cooper and all that happened was slowly being pushed to the back of your head.

Furthermore, you moved out of your apartment. You felt spooked and unsafe in it. Living near your mom again gave you a small aspect of security back. Fortunately your workplace had a second office 20 min from your mom's apartment. You rented some transporter and with the help of your friends you moved your stuff into your new apartment within a day. Moving out helped your anxiety a lot.

Another month later, you started to go out with your friends again, didn’t look around every time you left your apartment and became more yourself. Feeling confident. You were slowly going after your hobbies again. Running outside, Swimming, visiting your favorite coffee shop or reading in the park on a good day. All without turning around every few seconds.

Before you knew it about half a year had passed and it all was a mere memory. You hadn’t had another panic attack in months. Your job was great, you met your friends a lot, also visited your mom every week and you could even listen to music with noise canceling headphones again. It felt normal. Back to how it was before. There was no news from the Butcher. No new Butcher victims, just some mom in a horrible car crash, but aside from that there was just the usual news.

It was around January, a Saturday, your birthday to be exact, where it began to get strange again. Even though it started out as every other birthday since you were 21. First brunch with your mum, having some good quality time in your favorite restaurant. After that, you went home again and around the evening your friends should arrive to go out. You should be around 10 people later. Normally you would just celebrate at home, but your best friend Simon wanted to party. Who were you to deny his wishes?

You had been Besties for ages, growing up with the same situation of a cheating parent, pushed you even closer together. It was only after high school where you went in different directions. Simon wanted to study, whereas you started working. There he met his better half Sebastian, they’ve been together ever since and when the three of you did something together they treated you like their child. Which you found hilarious. You loved them.

So a couple of friends were coming over and around midnight you would go dancing. When you arrived back at your apartment you noticed something strange. There was a small gift in front of your door. You looked around if you saw any of your neighbors before picking it up and unlocking your door.

It didn’t seem to have a name anywhere. ’Strange. Maybe it was from that elderly woman on the first floor?’, you wondered. You put it on your kitchen counter, saving it for later. Seeing as you had only a couple of hours left to clean and dress up. Also you needed your makeup done before simon came, or he would go way overboard with his ideas. You already agreed to let him do your hair and change your outfit, if it was “too boring”.

That was another reason he wanted you to go out. Maybe you would finally find prince charming and you could go on cute double dates. In his opinion, your ‘no dating’ phase had been going on too long. Looking at yourself in the mirror you felt good. You decided to go with some short black pants, and a glittery black top with an open back.

By the time the others arrived you totally forgot about the present still laying wrapped on the kitchen counter. Friend after friend arrived, all of them overly punctual. Except for two individuals, as always. You didn’t mind, it was only Lucas, a friend of Sebastian, with his girlfriend Mary. You didn’t particularly like her, Mary needed to be in the spotlight, sometimes you felt like she tried to replace you in your friend group. None of the others saw this most of the time though. She was ‘little miss perfect’. Well, except for Simon and Lizzy, they did see her other side sometimes.

Putting on some music after everybody sat down in the living room, you went back to the kitchen to help Simon with the last drinks. As Simon was putting away the cake he brought on the kitchen counter he saw the small present laying around. “Who is this from?”

You walked towards him to see what he ment. “Oh, I actually don’t know. I think one of my neighbors left it for me.” shrugging you picked it up.

“Do you know what's inside?”, You shook your head, now you’ve done it. Simon loved a good mystery, something to solve, something thrilling.

“Well then, open it! I’ll get the rest of the drinks.”, he ushered you towards the living room where the others sat around your coffee table. Climbing over the back rest of your couch, you made yourself comfortable in the corner. Simon brought your drinks while you started to open the present. “What is it?”

“It’s…” you frowned. Pulling out a simple small teddy bear, with something silver on top. It was made out of plastic, nothing overly special. It was a Keychain.

“I think that’s something I could put on my keychain? Wait there's more…” There was something shiny at the bottom of the present.

“A bracelet– Oh, it’s really pretty.” You held it towards the light, it sparkled brightly. It was a simple silver bracelet, with a little charm in the center. A cute colorful flower.

“Aww how cute. But it seems like it was more for a child? Are you sure your neighbors know your age?” Lizzy laughed and poked you. She was what you would consider your girl bestfriend.

“Or maybe they know that you still have stuffed animals in your bed”,joked Simon and threw a pillow at him. “Hey, be careful, my drink!”, he exclaimed with a feigned outrage. You flipped him off. It wasn’t your fault that you could only go to sleep, while holding something in your arm.

“Don’t pout, come I’ll put the bracelet on. Then we get you a tiara and you’ll be a Disney princess.”Lizzy grabbed the bracelet of your hand and put it on you.

“And put the keychain thing to your keychain–”, Marcus said as they all laughed at your embarrassment. You gave them a look.

“Really guys, do I have to?”, you whined.

“Yes, give it to me, I’ll do it. You open the rest of our presents. I promise you’ll like them”, winked Simon and held out his hand. Reluctantly you gave him the key chain and started to open the other presents.

The other presents were way better. You got some games, wine and everybody plus your mom pitched in to buy you a new bike. They hid it in front of your door before. You had tears in your eyes as you thanked each of them. ‘You had the best friends’

After eating the cake there was nothing to stop you guys from going all out. Drinking games, Beer pong, dancing or just talking. Later on, Lucas and his girlfriend arrived around 10. At this point everybody was in a good mood and slightly drunk. On seeing the bike, Mary was offended that they hadn’t waited for them to give me my present.

You were about to tell her that it was your birthday, when some of the others already apologized to her. Telling her they didn’t know when they would show up.Annoyed, you refilled your drink, and went back to the friends playing beer pong. You needed to get drunk more to be nice to her. She wasn’t even here for 5 minutes and everything had to resolve around her.

The party got louder and better, all having a good time. Half an hour before you wanted to leave Mary came to you while dancing, grabbing your arm. “Is that the bracelet you got from your neighbor? The others told me about it. It's so cute. Can I try it on? I always wanted something like this…”, Mary asked you with her stupid baby voice. She immediately tried grabbing it off your arm.

“Ehm, hey wait a second. Here, but I want back before we go.”, You didn’t want any drama today. She nodded her head, waved you off and reassured you that you would get it back in a second.

You did, in fact, not get it back within a second and when you were standing in the queue to the club, you realized that she still had it on. Now it was too late.

Inside the club your friends surprised you, they booked a small area to sit with a table in the middle. Some drinks and bottles, waiting for you in the middle.

“Guys! You shouldn’t have!”, you exclaimed happily.

“Only the best for you Birthday girl!” Simon cheered! Hugging you tightly. Celebrating your birthday never felt better. You did a few shots and then most of you went off dancing to the dancefloor for the next hour.

Coming back from the dance floor you sat back down exhausted. Every time you went out you asked yourself the same question. ‘Why did you even decide to wear heels today?’ All of you started to get new drinks and someone suggested to spice things up and play an old fashioned “Truth or Dare”. Without truth of course, because it was way too loud.

You loved these games, it was always fun to watch. Though you didn’t like doing dares yourself, always feeling a bit shy and easily embarrassed. Now with the alcohol you did feel more comfortable. Maybe you would be up to do a dare. As if reading your thoughts Simon yelled at you over the table “Y/N”.

You looked at him with pleading eyes, your confidence dwindling. “Noo.. Please…”

“No! I’ve waited enough. I dare you to go out there and make out with a stranger!” he exclaimed, pointing to the dance floor. Some of your friends whistled at that.

Not waiting for you to think about it Simon stood up. “Do you trust me? We go dancing and I promise I won’t let some creep near you. Only handsome guys?” He held out his hand. You thought about it. If not now, when would you ever do it? You needed to get over your own shadow. Quickly you emptied your glass. For the extra bit of confidence.

“Pinky promise?” you asked, feeling bold suddenly and holding out your pinky. He looked surprised and instantly linked your pinky with his. “Promisee.” happily he dragged you to the dance floor.

“What's your age range? Still someone around your age?” Simon asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes at his behavior. “I don’t know. He can be older… but not above 50!!” Simon pretended to be shocked at your revelation, holding his hand above his heart.

“Older men! How scandalous!”, you jabbed his side.

“Let's go before I change my mind.”, you threatened. As you made your way on the dance floor they started to play one of your favorite songs ‘Unholy’.

“As information, I’m going back as soon as I see you enjoy yourself. I’m not watching a full make out session from you.”, he shouted in your ear. Laughing, you nodded. Fair enough, you wouldn’t want to watch him make out with Sebastian either. Both of you started dancing to the music, stealing glances at the people around you.

More like Simon was looking around, whereas you tried not to think about the dare too much.

You felt the people dancing all around you. Swinging your hips and moving your arms around your body, you felt yourself getting lost in the music.

Simon and you danced yourself further into the crowd. Someone bumped against your ass, touching it. Before you could even react somebody else pushed that person away. It was not Simon, seeing as he was still dancing right before you. He raised a brow gesturing behind you. Mouthing the simple word ‘Hot’.

While dancing you turned your head slightly to look behind. You couldn’t see much, all the flickering colorful lights made it hard to recognize anything. He was tall, broad shoulders and his hair seemed to be a bit longer. You continued dancing, Simon nodding at you. ‘Fuck it. Simon better not be wrong’ You trusted his judgment. In the rhythm of the music, you danced backwards until you found yourself practically grinding your ass on him. He didn't move away, dancing in sync with you.

One of his hands placed itself on your hip, pulling you even more against him. You felt a sudden rush of confidence, as you continued swaying your ass against him and felt something hardened in his pants. It felt huge.

Using this confidence boost and as a confirmation you spun around, still dancing. ‘Could you do it?’ Looking up at his face, sadly, the flashing lights still barely illuminated his face. Looking closer you could make out a few facial features. He also had a slight beard. Even without knowing his exact looks, you felt a certain pull towards him. ‘I bet he is handsome’ You were not one to make the first move, but you were going to fulfill your dare.

‘You could do it. You looked fucking hot and you wouldn't see him ever again.’ Dancing against him, his slight erection pressing against you, you took the initiative, steadying yourself with one hand at his shirt. 'Why wouldn’t he take the first step? Why did the women need to take control in this situation?' Until now you were always the more experienced partner, so it was nothing new for you. Even though you would like some change. Him taking control, getting rough or just doing what he wants… Maybe you read too many dark romance books.

Slowly wandering with the other hand up his chest, resting it at his neck. Slightly you pulled his head towards you to push your lips onto him. His lips were rough. At first it was just you moving your mouth against his. You felt him putting away his drink on the high table next to you.

As he still did not reciprocate the kiss and for a second you thought that you read the signs wrong. At least you fulfilled your dare. However as soon as you broke the kiss and stepped back, he roughly grabbed your face, pulling you back into him. Surprised by the sudden force of his grip, a small yelp escaped you, before he silenced it with a kiss. The action instantly sent a warm fuzzy feeling down to your core.

Kissing you hard, your mouths moved in sync. His large hand on the side of your face kept your head in place. You winced slightly when he bit your lip, but he hardly seemed to notice. He tried to slip his tongue between your lips, but you denied it.

Trying to gain control of the kiss and situation. You heard a low grumble from him, he seemed discontented with your attitude. You smirked against his lips, which seemed to annoy him further. Moving his hands down your body, he grabbed your ass, hard. The pain going straight into your core, making you moan into his mouth. He seized the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth.

This time you didn’t even try to get the upper hand, you liked that he was in control. Finally someone who was more dominant in these things. Giving you the time to explore this new, more submissive side. Letting go of your face he moved his hand down your body. Over your chest, stomach and finally resting at your hips, pulling you against him. Goosebumps traveled all over your body, where his hands touched you. Your brain felt dazed, this was the hottest makeout session you ever had. You didn’t care about his roughness or the biting, you rather liked it.

When he broke the kiss you were both panting heavily. Slowly, almost teasing, he traced his fingers up your spine before grabbing you by your hair and tilting your head upwards to look at him. Your mouth parted slightly, a small moan escaped your lips. It stung where he had his grip on your hair, but the slight pain turned you on even more. Sure you knew you liked reading about these kinds of things, but experiencing them made you feel even more aroused.

For a split second, you thought you saw his panting expression change into a smirk. Before you could think twice, he kissed you again. Your mind instantly went blank, his kiss was like a drug. This kiss was slower, still rough but he set the tone. Moving his lips against yours, pushing his hand between your legs. You felt hot, everything felt way too hot to bear, never had you been kissed with such passion. You needed to be closer to him. You tried running your hands down his body.

He removed his hands in an instant, grabbing yours and pushing them back to your sides. You let out a small whine. ‘What was going on with you? You never whined. You felt like a schoolgirl, making out for the first time’ Shaking his head disapprovingly, he turned away to grab his drink. Taking a sip, he held it near your lips, offering it to you. “It’s just water.”

You knew you shouldn’t drink from strangers, though you were way too drunk to think straight or even logically. ‘You wanted to keep making out and if that helped?’ Looking up at him you tilted your head forward against the glass and emptied the whole glass. You didn’t even realize how thirsty you were, and a glass of water seemed like a good option.

“Good girl.”, you heard his deep voice beside your ear. The loud music was making it hard to hear him clearly. The praise went straight to your core. He put his drink away and you began dancing to the music. More like grinding on each other.

He still didn’t allow you to touch him much and you wanted nothing more than to travel your hands up and down on his body, or under his shirt. He leaned down, grabbing your hips to press you against him. Pressing his hard crotch against your lower stomach, making you inhale a sharp breath.

“Can I get your number?” his deep voice mumbled against your ear. You pondered. It felt like he was growling. Slowly he began caressing your ear, gently kissing his way to your neck, making you close your eyes, leaning your head back to give him better access. Your legs were feeling weak. Running his thumb along your jawline, he sucked and bit in your neck, as he kissed his way back to your ear.

“Please?” his voice was a low growl against your ear. Your eyes fluttered open again as you nodded, desire filled your body. You would do anything, if he kept going on like this.

He kissed you softly this time and you bit his lip as he tried ending the kiss. You wanted to kiss him longer. You missed his warmth already, and also missed the dark look flashing up in his eyes. He pulled his phone out, tipping something before handing it to you. As you grabbed his phone, you felt yourself wobble to the side. Luckily he grabbed you in time and stadied you against his body. Now your back was pressed against his front.

You thought about grinding your butt against him, but as if sensing your thoughts he nudged you towards his phone. Looking at the screen, it was truly hard to concentrate for you. He kept sidetracking you by placing soft kisses on your neck.

Blinking rapidly you slowly made out the numbers. Your vision seemed a bit blurry, your eyes feeling so heavy. ‘You didn’t even drink that much’ After what felt like hours you successfully put in your number. As soon as you were done, he grabbed his phone back.

You were so drunk that you didn’t notice the contact already had a name. - Sweetheart - Turning back to him you nearly lost your balance, falling against his chest. His arm wrapped around your side, steadying you as he began walking you through the crowd of dancing people. You found it so difficult to keep your balance, you felt funny. You couldn’t seem to focus, everything stayed a bit blurred. You didn’t even know where he took you. Was he taking you home?

“Hey, sorry to bother you guys.”, he loudly said to someone over the music as he came to a stop. You leaned your face against his shoulder. You were really tired.

“You are her friends, right? I think someone put something in her drink, one minute she was fine and the next she could barely stand.” Your brows furrowed, ‘drugged? You were fine… when should that have happened? Didn’t those drugs work way quicker?’ Shocked gasps filled the air.

“I thought I would bring her back to you, so you can get her home.” He had such a calming and sympathetic voice. ‘Why would he bring you back? You were having fun.’ You playfully bit him in his chest, making him tighten his grip on your hip. His lips pressed in a firm line.

“Yes, yes she is our friend. Oh fuck. Thank you so much man!” Four hands grabbed you off the stranger you were leaning onto. You pouted.

“No-o I don’t wa- want to”, your voice slurred, you sounded like a brat. Struggling against their grip, not wanting to leave his side, but they were stronger than you. Also your fight wasn't really that much of a fight as you thought, you could hardly stand straight. You didn’t even knew his name. His jaw clenched as he looked towards you and the two holding you, his eyes lingered on the arm of the girl.

“Yes yes, hopefully you got his number.”, said a high pitched female voice near your ear. It sounded like Mary. You looked around, it was Lucas and Mary who supported you. ‘Why those two?’

“Why didn’t you tell me you liked older men?” Giggling, you shrugged your shoulders.

“He is so fine, maybe I should talk to him too.” Mary whispered in your ear. ‘What about her boyfriend?’

“Well, thanks again man, I’m Simon, her best friend. We’re taking her home asap, before something happens…” he began, as Lucas and Mary led you away. He gestured for them to stop, but they didn’t look back. Thus you couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation play out. It was a good thing. Drugged or not, your subconsciousness would have freaked out sooner or later.

“No problem Simon. It is what everybody would have done. Call me Cooper.”, he held his hand out for him to shake, which Simon gladly accepted.

“Nah, I don’t think so. Some sick fuck, may have taken advantage of her in a state like that. So thank you Cooper.. Shit, I just wanted her to have a good time on her birthday.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself Simon. I was glad I could help. Wish her a happy birthday from me, I hope she feels better in the morning.” Simon nodded, turning around to talk with the others and Cooper soon vanished in the crowd. Slowly your friends started to follow the three of you back to the entrance of the club.

“Hey, Y/N you stay here and wait. Lucas and I get the jackets. Just hold onto the handrail of the stairs or sit down. You can stand on your own for a bit, can’t you? ”she asked, concerned and something different in her voice. You gave her a thumbs up before holding onto the railing again.

“We will hurry as best as we can, the others should be here soon.” She came closer, whispering in your ear.

“Also you can stop your show now. Yes it’s your birthday, but do you need that much attention?”, with that she and lucas made her way to the coat check waiting line.

You let your head fall back as you take deep breaths. ‘Show? What show?’ Deeply breathing in the fresh air that was coming from the entrance. Few people were walking past you either coming in or leaving the club. Still it was hard concentrating on anything, but you were doing okay.

Until you weren’t. All of a sudden you felt something against your back and in the next moment you lost your footing and along with the grip on the handrail and flew down the stairs. Instinctively your body tried not to hit the ground face first. For that you turned around to face the top of the stairs. ‘Was there a man?’ you thought. Blinking once whoever you thought you saw was gone, just panicked bystanders. Did you hear Simon?

Your side painfully crashed first into the stairs, then continuing falling further down the stairs. You tried your best to stop or push yourself up, but failed. Someone behind you grabbed your arm to stop you. The only thing it brought you was, that you landed on your foot, with your butt while also twisting it in a painful way.

(A/N: You know, I thought about it, Leaving you hanging right here. However a) I should not end all my chapters the same, you could get bored and b) I’m not evil.)

Pain shot up from your foot, as your tears began to form in your eyes. “Fuck, Y/N.” Simon and Sebastian seemed next to you in mere seconds. Carefully they lifted you off the ground and gently removed your foot from under you. It hurt like hell.

“Is she alright?”, one of the bouncers came towards you from the entrance, having heard the commotion.

“Hey, can you move your foot?” Simon asked. You gave it a try, whining instantly. Crying even more you shook your head, your brain was way too foggy to come up with a smart ass reply.

“Where were you?” yelled an otherwise rather quiet Simon.

“Getting our jackets...” began Mary.

“She was drugged and you left her alone? Are you serious Mary?” Lizzy yelled too, her face enraged.

“How do we know she really was drugged? Maybe she just played it to get away from that man?” Mary suggested in an annoyed tone.

“What the fuck? Did you look at her? Does she seem like a normal drunk to you? You have seen her drunk before, but never like this!”, came Lizzy's angry reply.

“Also from what I saw in the beginning, she sucked his fucking face off! Didn’t seem like she hated it.” Simon countered.

“Why did you even leave her alone in the first place? None of this would have happened! Lucas you have no brain of your own anymore?”, Sebastian joined their yelling. The statement made Lucas' face turn the darkest shade of red.

“Fucking pathetic. Lets get her to the emergency room, someone order an uber?”Simon turned around angrily, and he and Lizzy helped you up. Each of them supported you as you hobbled down towards the streets. The way from the Club to the ER was gone in a blur. You couldn’t remember most of it. One minute you were leaving the club and in the next you laid on a bed in the ER. ‘How did you get here?’

You looked around for your friends, but the room was empty besides Simon who was sitting next to your bed with a worried expression. Your head felt clearer, you cleared your throat.

“So what did the doctor say, Simon? What's the damage?”, better get it over with.

“Well.. bad news first. You have a bruised foot and a hyperextended ligament. As a consequence you have to wear a bandage and walk on crutches for the next month at least.”

You sighed. It seemed like he wasn’t even finished with the bad news yet.

“You also got a few bruises on your arms, legs and back. Buut the Good news– they've given you something to counteract the effects of the drugs, but you'll probably still have to sleep it off, to fully feel better.”

“Better?” you laughed “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. Anything is better than this..”

“I know..” he said as he patted your head. “Listen, they want to keep you here overnight, but just call me in the morning and we will pick you up and drive you home, ok?”

Defeated, you nodded, he squeezed your hand and left soon after. Leaving you alone in the empty room. The rest of the night was uneventful. The nurses checking up on you from time to time, bringing you more water. Sadly they also woke you up at 6 to check your vitals again and give you painkillers. After one final talk with the doctor, getting instructions from him for the next weeks and your crutches, you were ready to go home.

As promised Simon picked you up, he even cleaned your apartment from you and forbade you from helping. He was too kind. He even made Sebastian shop some groceries for you, which he brought over. So you didn’t need to stress about that for the next couple of days. About two hours later they left, telling you to call if you needed something.

You never had a wild birthday like that before, but somehow trouble seemed to find you. It was just a small consolation that nothing had happened to you the last months.

Still exhausted, you laid back on the couch, still in your yesterday's outfit. Closing your eyes as you enjoyed the silence. The ping of your phone ringing loud through the quietness of your apartment. You grabbed your phone and held it above your face. It was from Simon, he left not even a minute ago. Did he forget something? You opened your Phone.

– I totally forgot to tell you something. I meant to wish you a happy birthday from the man from the club last night. He also wished for you to get well soon. –

A second message followed.

– You remember? The one you made out with? He said his name was Cooper. –

Cooper…You knew that name. There was only one person that came to your mind with that exact name. Alarm Bells were going off in your head, but whatever they gave you in the hospital was working. You weren’t shaking or panicking, you were rather calm, what confused you.

That couldn’t be true, no. Surely you would have recognized him, even in the dim light of the club. It wasn’t that dark, was it? You rested your phone on your chest and began thinking about last night. Trying to remember, you realized that reconstructing the evening would be way harder than you thought. There were a lot of gaps in your memories and many were quite foggy. Perhaps it was because of the drugs mixed in your drink.

Sighing you closed your eyes, attempting to recollect what the stranger looked like. He was tall, had a small beard, you didn’t remember his eye or hair color, but his hair was a bit longer? You were unsure. You remembered his large hands on your body, holding your head in place while kissing you. He was strong for sure.

‘Think straight!’ you warned yourself, already starting to feel hot again. Just thinking about it still turned you on. ‘If that was Cooper, the man from that concert. You were fucked.’

You tried to arrange your thoughts. Yes, you made out with him, a serial killer, and you liked it, you felt disgusted. ‘You didn’t know it was him. Why would he even be there? The possibility was close to zero’ Suddenly you remembered something.

Didn’t you drink from his drink? Of course you were drunk before, but after that everything went downhill. Recalling how super drunk and tired you felt soon afterwards. It would all make sense.

Except… Why did he bring you back to your friends then? Perhaps it was a weird coincidence?

Maybe you should ask Simon if his name was really Cooper. Maybe he misunderstood? That looked like a good option. Opening your phone, you started to answer Simon as a new message came in.

It was from an unknown number. A simple: – Happy Birthday Sweetheart. –

It couldn’t be, you changed your number. Not many people called you that and you faintly remember Cooper calling you like that. Before you could wonder about it more, a second message from the same number appeared. What you read then made your heart freeze in fear, your pulse increased and hands started shaking, which made reading the message harder.

– You know, you were always nervous and so easily startled, like a cute little doe. Constantly on alert and looking around, to run away, at the slightest noise. Though if there were a little accident to happen. Where will you go now little doe, if you can’t even run? –

(A/N: nvm i am evil)

#trap 2024 #cooper adams #cooper adams x reader #trap movie #josh hartnett #cooper adams x you #cooper adams x y/n #cooper abott × reader #cooper abott

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howlsofbloodhounds · 3 months ago

Note

(cw: suggestive)

i want to write something about killer and color's soul thingy, but the kink talk has completely derailed me. now all i can think of is "haha, killer has a vore kink" OH MY LAWD 💀💀💀

and like, i'm mildly (MILDLY) entertaining this train of thought. because i remember reading somewhere that people with a vore kink fantasy don't actually want to do that irl, but the act of being enveloped/consumed by an entity feels very symbolically akin to being held in safety and intimacy. what's more intimate than being enveloped by a being you desire and trust? the idea of "becoming one" with someone is really, really intimate. imagine being whole, because you feel so fractured. you feel like you're missing something, parts of yourself, parts of other people, and now being fused with another being, a being bigger and more whole than you, makes you feel more complete than ever. i say it's very romantic, somewhat in-line with the ancient greek idea of soulmates.

and i think color may disagree with that idea lol. giving all of yourself up to someone is not equivalent to true happiness. you cannot sustain yourself on one type of love forever. you cannot fully heal until you learn to love yourself, to accept that your broken shards are you.

~ crowshipping anon

I had to stop and stare for a moment because huh? Killer? Vore kink? What.

Then i did a little research, like 19 minutes at most and will probably do more later, but now im actually thinking about it.

if killer ultimately craves safety and this is the one way that felt safe and familiar before, and color is powerful and not chara or nightmare and wont use this sense of enmeshment to hurt (which he wouldn’t and killer eventually learns to realize that even if he never fully manages to trust or get close with another to this extent), then i can see this being a particularly strong fantasy of his; especially when the means of making it reality is potentially right there.

i wonder if he’ll feel pleased if it were to actually happen, or if the knowledge that its just fantasy and color doesn’t agree and wouldn’t likely agree to a literal fusion or absorption—or a “vore” is a word—is what makes him feel safe and secure enough to think about it. i wonder what are ways color could indulge him a bit even if they don’t ever actually do it and work towards a more healthy view on relationships and love, even if killer still ultimately keeps his fantasy/kink.

ah nice going crow now you got me thinking about vore kink killer 😞. why do I actually wanna hear more about this

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anamericangirl · 5 months ago

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@sugarplum-sapphic oh I see you’ll “entertain this for a second” but you’ll turn off reblogs to make it harder for people to respond to you lol. I guess to make you feel like you did a better job responding than you actually did.

I don’t really care what you think about my blog to be honest. If seeing someone you disagree with on most things is red flag that says more about you than it does about me. But I get it. Pro-aborts like yourself tend to create echo chambers so you never have to have your ideas challenged. So I understand that seeing someone who has different opinions than you would scare you.

But since you’re “entertaining this” I’ll entertain it too. 😊

I’m curious where you got the idea that the right to life just “doesn’t apply” to this simply because the baby is dependent on their mother. I’m not aware of any documents, legal or otherwise, that state that the right to life is only applied to people who aren’t in a dependent state. So since you’re making the claim that there are some people the right to life just doesn’t apply to as if that’s an objective fact when it contradicts every single law and founding document we have you better have a pretty airtight source and reasoning for that preposterous claim. I am very curious on where you got that idea. What law or founding document did you read that made you think babies don’t have the right to life because they need their mother to maintain their life. You know babies are also dependent on others to maintain their life after being born? So I’m assuming you think it’s ok to kill babies after birth as well. Otherwise you would be inconsistent.

Ah yes. The organ donation argument. You use “classic” to describe it. I like to call it the “overused” and “thoroughly debunked” argument that y’all won’t let die even though it demonstrates that you really don’t understand what abortion is. This is why I ask y’all to actually take some time to learn about abortion before continuing to support it.

Let’s go over all the ways your kidney argument is very bad and does not justify abortion at all.

1. First, the situations are not similar. Not at all. Using a situation that does not match abortion in any way shape or form does not justify abortion. You would have to make up a similar situation in order for this to make sense. This just shows you don’t know what you’re talking about.

2. There is a big difference between not saving the life of a dying person and intentionally killing a healthy person who would have continued to live without your interference, k? Until you can understand that very big difference you are not ready for the abortion debate.

3. Organ donation does not require you to actively kill a person. Do you understand that? The only way to make organ donation comparable to abortion is if you were going to argue that it would be ok for you to then stab the person who needs the kidney after deciding not to donate yours.

4. Abortion is not organ donation. Deciding you don’t want your baby does not give you the right to commit a subsequent act of violence. It does not give you the right to actively and intentionally kill a child.

5. You’re not obligated to save the life of a dying person. You are obligated not to murder someone.

So in short, no you can’t be forced to donate a kidney but you still can’t kill babies. Get it now?

Do you understand there is a difference between dying a natural death and being murdered? It’s important that you understand that. You see, the right to life, which does apply to people even if they are in a dependent state, is not the right not to die, but it does mean other people cannot take it upon themselves to end your life.

You very clearly do not even understand bodily autonomy either. It applies to your body only and it does, in fact, have limitations. Making a decision about what happens to your body does not mean you have the right to harm another person’s body. Your bodily autonomy ends where the baby’s body begins. Because that is a different body that you don’t have bodily autonomy for. Bodily autonomy is not the right to kill. It’s very important that you understand that as well.

You mistakenly think that a sick person dying because no one donated a kidney is the same thing as inducing a heart attack in a baby and then ripping their body apart. That is extremely ignorant and I encourage you to educate yourself on this matter. Feel free to ask me any questions you have. I have a lot of resources I can share that will help you understand abortion, human rights and fetal development a lot better.

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storm-angel989 · 9 months ago

Text

Outside the Office Part Seven

Hi All,

No trigger warnings for this one, but definitely mature content. I love the feedback I've been getting- I'm thrilled everyone is enjoying this series! As always, feedback is appreciated! Enjoy!

When I woke up, I found Valentino asleep, his arm wrapped around me protectively. His heart shaped glasses were folded neatly on the nightstand next to us. In all the time we had spent together, I had never seen Val actually sleep. I laid my head on his chest, listening to the steady ins and outs of his breathing as I slowly woke up. I blinked a few times and rubbed my eyes, willing myself to stay awake.

It was at that moment I noticed the bloodstains on his hands and clothes. I sat up and frantically ran my hand over the parts of him I could reach, searching for a source of the blood. Was he hurt? I ran my hands down his chest, unable to find its origon.

“Mi amore. Awake already?” he asked sleepily, adjusting his position ever so slightly.

“You’re bleeding.” I ran my hand over his neck, trying to calm the panic that was so prevalent in my voice. “You’re hurt.”

That woke him up. His fingers interlaced with mine and he pushed us both upright, looking down. Pain shot through me, but I ignored it. Val was hurt. He checked himself over and after a few moments, he shook his head.

“Not mine princessa. Yours, most likely. From yesterday. I need a shower and you…” he saw my pained expression. “Need another round of pain medication. And food.” He gently moved me against the pillows. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

He vanished into the bathroom and reappeared a few moments later. He snapped on a pair of blue gloves before he reached over and carefully disconnected the IV line. From his pocket, he pulled two vials and an alcohol wipe packet. .

“One to flush, one for pain.” He took my arm in his hand and ran the wipe over the entryway. “It might burn princessa. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to be high.” I said, yanking my arm away. “No, Val. I don’t like that feeling. Please.”

“You won’t be.” He said soothingly. “The doctor gave you another non narcotic. Just like last night. Once it’s in you, I’ll take the whole IV out. I promise. Let me know when you’re ready.” He waited for me to answer.

“I…trust you.” I said softly, moving back closer to him.

He kissed my forehead. “That’s my girl.”

I grimaced as the first round of liquid flooded into my veins. He uncapped the second vial and slowly pushed it into my body.

“I don’t feel any…ah!” The tightness in the back of my head released and the pain erased itself.

“Supplier of highs and releases,” he mumbled, more to himself than to me. He carefully slid the IV out of my arm, taping the gauze over the pinprick of damage it left behind. “Do you feel okay?”

“I don’t feel pain, if that’s what you're asking.” I said slowly. “Lucifer wasn’t kidding when he said medicine in hell is far more advanced than what angels have. All we have for stuff like this is…well, more akin to what those demons gave me last night.”

Valentino grimaced. “Princessa, I can’t…even begin to imagine.” He sighed and gently leaned over and kissed me. “I told you the medicine wouldn't affect your brain. I made a promise to answer your questions today, and you promised the same. You can’t be hazy for that. But you do need to eat first. Come on, let’s go see what Vox made for breakfast.”

He stood up and lifted me into his arms, carrying me out to the living room couch. “Vox? Vel?" He called out across the room. "One of you, keep an eye on her. I need a shower and I don’t want to leave her by herself.”

“You’re being overprotective.” I told him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He laid me down on the couch and kissed my forehead.

“And I have every right to be overprotective, princessa. Do you disagree?”

I didn’t. The feeling of love and safety that wrapped around me the moment he touched me was incomparable to anything else. I craved it, more than anything. I watched as he walked away, settling myself against the pillows.

Velvette looked over at me from her place on the couch and did a double take. “Fuck. You look even worse this morning.”

I heard Valentino yell from down the hall, his voice loud and laced with annoyance. “Don’t fuck with her Vel, or I’ll fuck you up.”

She puffed up and hollered back. “I’m not fucking with her, its the truth.” She paused and I watched her swing herself up and march down the hallway towards his room. I heard Valentino curse and she walked out a few moments later, a box in her hand. She marched over to the elevator.

“I’ll be right back.”

I watched her disappear downstairs and looked at Vox. He shrugged in response.

“Does it hurt to chew?" He asked, walking over next to me. "I made soup if it does. If not, I have waffles and scrambled eggs- with cheese. Both should be soft enough for you to eat.”

“I don’t feel any pain.” I said, pushing myself up. “But I’m not hungry either.”

“So waffles and eggs it is. Got it.” He disappeared into the kitchen and came out a moment later with a plate, handing it to me. “Come on, you have to eat. It's yummy, I promise."

“I’m really not all that hungry, Vox. And it has nothing to do with your cooking.” I responded, pushing away the proffered plate. “My stomach’s just off.”

He sat down next to me on the couch, setting my plate on the coffee table in front of him. He was quiet for a moment, and he picked up the fork and cut a small piece of the waffle, sticking it with the fork. “Your belly is off because you haven’t eaten anything in the last fourteen or so hours. Come on. You’re not going to feel any better if you don’t give your body what it needs.”

“I told you, I’m not…”

“And the train goes in the tunnel.” Vox sang sarcastically as he stuck the fork in my mouth. “Chew. Swallow. Food goes into our tummies and makes us feel better!” His one eye began to swirl. “Eat.”

I did as he commanded but glared at him once I had swallowed the bite. “Stop being a jerk, I am not a child.”

“Oh? Could have fooled me because grow ups understand the importance of feeding our bodies. So much like a five year old, I’m giving you a choice. Either I can feed you, bite by bite, or you can feed yourself. But you need something in your stomach. End of discussion.” His voice turned softer. “You’ll heal faster and feed better. You need to eat, reader.”

I glared but realized I wasn't going to win this one. I took the plate and fork from him. He wasn’t wrong, after the first delicious bite my hunger returned. “Okay fine but don’t do that again. I mean it, I’m not helpless and I’m not a child.””

“And I don’t have a Daddy kink, so if you do what you need to do, I don’t have to treat you like a child.” He paused. “Trust me, if I wanted to play Daddy I would borrow one of Val’s whor- er, employees and make some money.”

“What does that even mean?”

Vox reached over and patted my head. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. Just get as much down as you can manage. I’m going to go make another batch, yell if you need me.”

He walked away as I ate, scrolling through my phone as I worked my way through breakfast. A few minutes later, my plate was empty. I set it on the table and uncapped the Sweet Sixteen that Vox had left for me, sipping it as I made myself as comfortable as I could.

Vox walked over to me just as I finished the drink. He looked me over and grinned. “You can’t tell me your stomach doesn’t feel better now that you’ve fed it. Your color is back.” He paused. “Did Val take your temperature this morning?”

I shook my head no.

“He should have. Com’ere let me feel your forehead.” The back of his hand pressed against my skin. He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. No fever. No fever usually means no infection brewing. I’ll let Lucifer know.”

“Is he coming today?” I asked. “I thought I might see him this morning.”

Vox shook his head. “Not unless you want him to come. He called earlier to check in on you but you were still sleeping. He said he’d try to video call with you later but if you could text him and let him know you’re alive I’m sure he would appreciate it.”

I picked up my phone and shot a quick text to Lucifer. He responded back right away.

You’re sure you're okay?

More than okay, Uncle Lucy. Promise.

Alright. I’ll try to call later but no promises. Things are rough out here. Glad you’re staying with the V’s. Be safe, and rest.

Across the room, the elevator door opened up and I looked up. Velvette sashayed across the room and plopped down on the couch next to me.

“Find what you need?” I asked, turning the screen on my phone off.

She pushed my empty plate across the table and set several bags and boxes next to us. “I did. Mind if I touch? Your face, I mean.”

“My face?” I asked as she tilted her head to one side, studying me. “I guess, sure.”

“Excellent.” She brushed my hair out of my eyes and tucked it behind my ear. “Mind if I play a bit? See what I can do to help you get cleaned up? You’ll feel better if you look better.”

“She doesn’t look bad.” Valentino’s voice drifted down the hallway. He walked over to us and leaned over the back of the couch. He pressed his lips to the top of my head. “Be nice. She’ll heal up.”

“Oh will you shut up? There is no hiding that she’s beat to shit. And if she looks in the mirror and sees it, well that won’t do much for healing now will it? You feel better if you look better.” Velvette shot back.

Valentino shrugged, apparently unbothered by Velvette’s snap. “As long as she’s fine with it, that’s all that matters. Vox, is there food left? I’m starving.” He turned to me. “Babe. Did you eat?”

“Vox made me.” I grumbled as Velvette lightly touched my skin.

“And do you feel better now that I did?” Vox prompted, flopping on the couch across from me.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Then I stand by my decision. You gotta eat, that's the first lesson you learned upon your arrival to hell.”

“Speaking of arrival to hell…” Valentino sat next to Vox, directly across from me. “Care to explain why you told us last night that you’ve been beaten worse than this? Because this, babydoll, is pretty bad from where I stand.”

“Yeah. I want to know too.” Vox added.

“Agreed.” Velvette added, pausing her makeup to look at me.

I frowned at the three of them. “I told you. My dad raised me- he was the leader of the exorcist army. What exactly do you think my days looked like?”

All three of them stared at me in confusion. I rolled my eyes.

“Guys. It’s the military. Do you not have one in hell? My days started at four am and if I made a mistake, even a tiny one, I was met with corporal punishment- even more so because my father was the head, and he wanted to make sure he set an example. Not to mention some of the exercises themselves were meant to prepare us for our eventual arrival in hell. We underwent all sorts of physical training to ensure that even if the worst happened down here we would not, under any circumstances, betray heaven. And we were taught to fight to survive. To do that, they broke us down to the nitty gritty, and put us through all sorts of…scenarios. It’s what we needed to do to learn to survive.” I paused. “Or at least, that's what they told us.”

I stopped talking and watched them try to process what I had told them. A memory floated up, one I had tried to keep hidden away. Might as well share, maybe it would help them understand.

“Here is a prime example. One time, I was late to the first call. I was supposed to swim laps that morning under the watchful eye of my father. When I turned up late, he ripped into me in front of an entire platoon, told me what an absolute disgrace I was to our family name, and then made me run laps until I puked. Or passed out. I’m not really sure which it was. When I wasn’t physically able to run anymore, he made me spend the day cleaning out the locker rooms. Said it was character building. And I mean, he was right. I was never late for the first call again.”

“I have so many questions,” Vox began slowly. “Like, how old were you, exactly?”

“Oh no. Your turn is over. It’s my turn to ask.” I replied lightly. “Right? The agreement was that you would answer honestly, and so would I.”

Valentino looked ever so slightly annoyed. “Yes. I suppose so. Bear in mind, princessa, that agreement was between you and I. But fine. Ask your question. We can go back and process ... .that later.” He hesitated. “Does Lucifer know about this?”

“I said I’m not answering any more questions. Souls. Soul contracts. How do they work? And what the fuck even is your job, Valentino?”

“That’s two questions. If we answer them both, you have to answer another one as well. Got it?” Velvette interjected, brushing powder on my face. “There. You’re all done. I’ll finish later, when your lips don’t move as much.”

Across from me, Valentino set his empty plate on the table and stood up, walking over to me. I reached for him and he lifted me up, settling me against him and pulling a quilt over us. “You okay, princessa?” He asked with concern in his voice. "You look like you're getting tired."

“I’m fine. Answers. Souls.” I reminded him. “What did I see in that room, Val? What did I walk in on?”

Valentino sighed and thought for a moment. “You saw me at my job. As the boss. Every single one of those demons in that room belongs to me. Is owned by me. Sold their soul to me. I give them everything they are owed in their contract. And make no mistake, they knew exactly what they were getting into when they signed the contract with me. And I am bound by that contract as much as they are.”

“I don’t understand.”

He sighed. “Vox. Vel. One of you. Help me out here.”

Vox took a deep breath. “It’s like this. Our power as overlords comes from the souls we own. We acquire souls through the deals we make, deals that become contracts. Not like the little thing Lucifer did to you last night,” he added quickly. “Soul contracts are different from anything you’ve ever experienced. Once a creature signs over their soul, both they and the provider of the contract are fully bound by the terms of the contract until one or both of those parties meets their ultimate demise. Let’s be specific and use Valentino as an example. If a human signs a contract with him, that means they get something- whatever it is they desire in life, in exchange for their eternal soul working for Valentino after death. The specifics of those working conditions are outlined in the contract they both sign. It is Valentino’s responsibility to ensure that the contract is upheld. It’s his job, honey. Slightly different from my job, or Vel’s, but the base idea is the same. We provided a creature something in life in exchange for their soul, and the details of that exchange are specifically outlined in a contract. Both parties sign and are bound.”

“That also being said that until that contract is signed, consent is required in my studio. No one is touched outside the specific terms of their contract,” Valentino added. “The girl they mistook you for- she was in the final process of trading me her soul in exchange for…well, that doesn’t matter really. As part of her repayment, she would work for me. She wanted to be roughed up. But until I had her on stage, under my cameras, she wasn’t to be fucked. I don’t make a profit off of things I don’t own.”

“Who would even sign something like that?” I asked.

“Oh my sweet baby girl. You would be shocked. And there are no loopholes in our contracts, right down to the word “knowingly”. I ensure my deals are made with solid understanding from both parties. We are cruel because we need to be. All of my contracts outline the requirement to be that way." Valentino tucked a stray hair behind my ear. "Those who are soft do not make it down here. And princessa, the consequences of me breaking my own contract are far, far worse than upholding it- for both myself and the other parties.” He finished softly. His hand fell to the top of my head, his fingers worked their way through my hair and down my back as he spoke.

“Valentino.” I looked up at him and laid my head on his chest, settling into him. That feeling of safety and security was still as strong as ever. “You were a different person in your studio. I watched you strike someone, you threw your glass. You yelled, you demanded. I’ve never seen you like that. Ever. But you, you’re so gentle to me. And you hold me. And you’re soft, and take care of me. Why is that?"

“Princessa. I am not your boss. I don’t play that part in your life because I don’t own you. You and Vox and Vel, we’re friends.” He bent down and kissed me gently. “Or in our case, more than friends. But my point is, we offer each other an escape- a life outside of work. I don’t need to be harsh to you, and I don’t want to be. Who we are at work is not who we are in our private lives.” His voice softened. “I can be myself around them. Around you.”

“But Vox and Vel, they don’t…they aren't cruel. Not like that.” I protested.

Velvette let out a short laugh, “you’re joking, right?”

Vox shook his head, “oh sweetheart. We are- just not to you. Same reason as Val just said. We don’t own your soul. We don’t own each other's souls. We live and spend time together because we like each other and enjoy each other's company.”

Valentino put his hand on the top of my head. “Think for a moment, princessa. Do you spend your day aside Vox? Or does he put you to work on a laptop, tucked away in a corner while he handles his responsibilities? When you’re in Velvette’s studio, are you next to her- or trying on outfits handed by her employees until she calls you to the stage? I assure you, mi amor- they keep you as shielded from the realities of their job as they possibly can.” Valentino heaved a sigh and ran his thumb over my cheek, brushing away some of the makeup Velvette had dabbed on. “I’m sorry you had to find all this out, sweetheart. I’m sorry you had to see that side of me. Learn that side of us exists.”

“But reader, I cannot stress this enough. You will never see that side of us, not in our home, as much as we can help it. Outside of these four walls, we are overlords. It isn’t just Valentino who plays that role. If you saw any of us in our actual positions, you wouldn’t recognize us.” Velvette added.

Valentino continued to gently stroking my hair. I sank into him. He wrapped his arms around me and settled me against him. “Vox doesn’t let the world know that he makes banana chocolate chip pancakes each Saturday morning- unless I beat him to it. And Velvette certainly doesn’t let anyone other than us know that she needs to be carried to bed after seven drinks.”

“That was rude.” Velvette snorted, glaring at him.

“Shush Vel. It’s true. And to the point, this is our safe place, here and with each other. Outside of the public eye. Our studios are not. From the moment we step inside, we become what we need to be in order to be successful.” Vox explained, leaning back and putting his arm around Velvette, pulling her to him. He planted a kiss on her forehead.

Valentino cupped my chin. “The world doesn’t see the Valentino cradles you until you fall asleep during movie night. That’s not the image the world can see. If they did, we would lose the hold we have over hell. The world is an evil place, princessa. We keep you shielded from it, or at least, we tried.”

Vox pulled a blanket over him and Velvette, mimicking the position Valentino and I were in. “Again, to that point, we very clearly failed. Which leads me to the next thing that needs to be discussed. What is our plan going forward? I, for one, think Lucifer was right.. I think it's about time we started to present reader to the publicly as both one of us, and the princess of hell. It might be stickier for awhile in public, but at least people will know exactly who she is and there will be no more cases of mistaken identity.”

Velvette considered and looked at me. “People won’t touch you if they know you’re a V. I’m all for it.”

I nodded. “That sounds good to me. But how?"

“Tomorrow, I’ll bring you to the studio. Make it very clear that you are not to be touched.” Valentino said firmly, giving me a soft squeeze.

Vox shrugged. “Same, but maybe not tomorrow. Gonna wanna give you time to heal. If you come out in public looking like that, it won’t go over well for anyone.”

Valentino laughed darkly and held me closer. “I’m sure Velvette has full coverage makeup. No, I’m not waiting. I’m not risking this happening again.” He looked down at me. “I want you in the studio tomorrow, at my side. I want to make it explicitly clear that you are one of us.”

“Did anyone think to run this by Lucifer? Before we- you know, out the existence of the Princess of hell?” Velvette asked, snuggling up to Vox. “I mean, I’m all for it. I’ve been dying to have her walk in one of my shows.”

“Of course. It was his idea to begin with.” Vox answered. “He’ll be providing additional protection as well- not that that aspect is any of your concern. I’ll handle it. And, I think he was impressed at the protection we gave her…after the fact.”

“I know I was.” I said softly, looking up at Valentino. “You stood up to Lucifer and he was….scary.”

“And worth it, for you, Princessa.” His fingers interlaced with mine. “I believe we answered your questions, did we not?”

I nodded. “You did.”

“So one more question for you and we will both have answered each other the same amount. Do you agree?”

I looked up at him. “I do. Why?”

“Because this is the last question I have for you for now, mi amor. And then I want you back in bed, resting.” He took a deep breath. “Princessa…are you sure you want to be here? Are you sure, even after the events of last night, that you feel safe with us?” He tilted my chin up to him, looking me in the eye. “You agreed to answer truthfully.”

Vox and Velvette stared at him for a moment.

I didn’t hesitate. “Yes, Valentino. I am sure I want to be here. You…even with what happened, you make me feel safe. I care about you.” I looked at Vox and Velvette. “All of you.”

“It should go without saying that we feel the same way.” Velvette said. She smiled and looked up at Vox, kissing him on the cheek. “I mean, who else can model AND carry a conversation?”

Vox nodded in agreement. “Of course we do. Outside the three of us, you’re the first one we’ve ever let into this space. Honestly, it would be weird if you weren't here at this point.”

“So it’s settled, I can stay?” I asked Valentino.

He looked pained. “You misunderstood me. There was never a question of could. It was a question of want. Do you want to stay?”

“Yes.” I said firmly. “I don’t think I can make my stance any clearer than that.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face into him.

He kissed me gently, running his hands down my back. “Mi amor, you have no idea how happy I am at your answer. I’m taking you back to bed now. You need rest if you want to heal quickly.” He stood up, cradling my body to his as he turned to walk me down the hallway.

“Oh, Val? We’re working from home today. So if you need to go in…” Vox called from behind us. “We’ll make sure she’s well looked after.”

Valentino paused, his grip on me tightening. “I do, but not right now. She’s my number one priority at the moment. Maybe after she goes to sleep.”

I buried my face deeper into him at the thought of him leaving. He ran a hand down my back and carried me into my bedroom, setting me down on the bed. The medication had begun to wear off and the bruises were once again making themselves known. I knew from prior experiences I needed a hot shower and a round of anti inflammatories before the pain became unbearable.

I expressed this to Valentino. He frowned at my words.

“Princessa. I don’t…I don’t feel comfortable with you being by yourself for any period of time. Not right now.” He hesitated. “I suppose I could wait outside the door while you shower, but…”

“What if you just joined me?” I suggested.

He looked at me. “Princessa?”

“You’ve seen me naked yesterday, and probably before that. Fuck,Vox and half the world has probably seen me without clothes at this point. After yesterday, what does it matter?” I sank into the pillows. “And besides Val, if I could have any say over who gets to see me like that…I would prefer it to be you. Only you. Every time.”

“It matters to me because it matters to you.” Valentino said firmly. “And so you’re aware, other than Vox, no other person in that studio who saw you yesterday is breathing today. It was a direct violation of their consent clause- whether they knew it or not.”

I stared at him. “You killed them…even though they didn’t know they violated their contract?”

“It’s in the language.” Valentino gently cupped my chin. “Remember, I have an agreement I have to follow as well.” He leaned in and kissed me. “Princessa, if you’re sure, I would appreciate being by your side.” He helped me to my feet. “Preferably, right by your side.”

“Valentino, are you actually going to shower with me?” I teased.

He kissed me lightly. “Only because you asked, Princessa. And of course, to keep you safe.” He lifted me up and carried me to the bathroom, setting me on the counter. He reached into the shower and turned it on. He rummaged through a drawer and came up with a bottle of ibuprofen. I watched as he pulled a paper cup from the dispenser and filled it up with water. He handed me two pills and the cup. "Here. Swallow these. If you're still in pain after your nap and want a bath, I’ll run one.” He nodded towards the bathtub on the other side of the bathroom. “Maybe an Epsom salt bath if that sounds good to you."

“Mm, yeah. That could help.” I swallowed the medication and set aside the cup. Once that was out of the way, I reached for his shirt and gently tugged at it. "This needs to come off."

He smiled, “alright, babydoll. Settle down.”

“What? Val- you’ve seen me naked, wouldn’t you agree it’s only fair that I get to see you without clothes?”

That elicited a laugh. “Oh Princessa. You make a compelling argument.” He leaned in and kissed me before pulling off his shirt.

I took a moment to admire his body. I had seen glimpses of it before of course, moments when Velvette was adjusting buttons or other parts of fabric in the limo. And of course I felt it- rock hard body pressed against me when we snuggled. But this was the first time I had seen him fully shirtless. To say he was gorgeous was an understatement. Every muscle was perfectly sculpted, lean and perfectly put together. His jeans fell just below his hips, hugging every curve of his body.

“Like what you see, princessa?” He teased lightly, leaning in and kissing me.

“I couldn’t imagine anyone who wouldn't.” I said softly. “Damn, Val.”

He laughed again and undid the top snap of his jeans. “Ah, mi amor..” He leaned in and kissed me again, the rest of his clothing falling to the floor. He leaned in closer, obscuring my view of anything below the waist. “My turn to undress you.”

He pulled his tee shirt off my body, tossing it into the dirty laundry. Carefully, he tugged off my pajama bottoms and they joined his shirt in the hamper. He lifted me up and carried me into the shower.

I hissed as the hot water hit my skin. He turned his back to the water, protecting me from its sting.

“I’m going to set you down. Just lean on me, alright?”

“I can walk Val. I’m not…completely broken.” I said as he set me down, his hands on my waist as he made sure I was stable.

He tilted my chin up and kissed me softly, the steam building around us. “I know, princessa. Something tells me you would be…difficult to break.” He pulled me to him and gently guided me back under the water. “Come now, let’s get those muscles to relax.”

I leaned into him, resting my head against his chest as he gently rubbed my shoulders under the running water. I felt the warmth wash over my body. Under my head, he exhaled slowly, as if he was trying to control his breathing.

“Princessa.” He muttered, leaning back, both hands on my shoulders as his eyes studied my body. Somewhere in my brain I wanted to be embarrassed, to hide under his gaze. But for the first time, I felt comfortable being totally exposed to him. Somewhere in my belly, I felt something stir. I had felt it before, but standing next to him, against him, the feeling was stronger.

“Valentino.” I pressed my body into him. The pain I had begun to feel erased itself under the heat. “I have another question.”

“What is it princessa?” He leaned down and kissed me. “Ask away.”

“Does it hurt?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

“Does what hurt, princessa?” he asked with confusion and concern.

“What you do in the studio. Sex. I want to know. Is it supposed to hurt that bad?”

A horrified expression crossed his face. “Mi amore, no,” he said quickly. He shook his head and stepped forward and pulled me close to him, stepping his own body under the stream of warm water. “No. It doesn’t have to. Some enjoy the pain, the feeling of surrendering their entire body to another. They enjoy the punishment, the degradation. But it doesn’t have to be that way. It can be soft, gentle. Pleasurable in ways you never thought possible.”

“Show me.”

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then quickly pulled me to him, his lips pressing against mine. Any lingering pain vanished, replaced with a different feeling- a warmness spreading deep in my belly. I wanted him. Just him. All of him.

“You need to tell me if it hurts," he said as his hand ran down my thigh. “I need to know what feels good- and what causes you pain.” He leaned into me, pressing my back against the wall of the shower. I felt his finger slip inside me, then another. I let out an involuntary moan. He ran his thumb over my clit, drawing circles around the sensitive skin. I arched my back.

An explosion of nerves as his body pressed deeper into mine. I moaned, leaning into him, digging my nails into him as I tried to balance myself against the pleasure. “Valentino!”

“That’s right baby.” He pressed his lips against mine. “Come for me, my princessa.” His fingers moved faster, his kisses growing more and more rapid.

My stomach knotted as warmness spread through me, my vision flashing black as I felt an explosion in my belly, an explosion I had never felt before. I panted as the feeling of euphoria spread through every inch of my body., rendering me absolutely helpless. I felt his fingers slide out as I leaned my entire weight onto him. Against his thigh, I felt his cock twitch.

“Sex is fun, princessa. When you’re with the right person.” He whispered, holding me to him. “That’s my girl. Breathe.” I could see his conflicted expression as his eyes ran over me. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I’ve got you. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up so we can get you to bed.”

Balancing me against him, I felt him lather both of us in soap. He guided me under the water, rinsing us off before running a hand through my hair. He took a bottle of my shampoo and gently squeezed some in his hand.

“Close your eyes. I don’t want to get soap in them.” He ordered gently.

I did as he instructed, gripping onto him as the overload of my release slowly dissipated. By the time I was rinsed off and wrapped in a towel, propped back up on the bathroom counter, I felt like I could breathe again.

“Did you enjoy that, princessa?” He asked with concern, wrapping himself in a towel. “You’re quiet.”

“Val, that was…amazing.” I said softly, reaching for him. My body ached for more, hindered only by the pain I was very much starting to feel. “I want you. All of you.”

He took a deep breath as he surveyed my body. After a few seconds, he exhaled. “And you can have me. I promise. But not tonight. I’ll shatter you into a thousand pieces, mi amor. Especially, especially if it's your first time.” He pressed his lips to mine. “Your first time will be special. I promise. But you need to wait.”

I let out the most uncharacteristic whine. “But Val. I want you. Every single inch of you. And I’ve never felt this way before. Not ever. Please.”

“Another day, princessa. I want you too. Every inch of you.” His body pressed into mine and I could hear the struggle in his voice. “Waiting is testing every single fucking bit of my self control. But I need you to be okay afterwards, and right now I don’t think you will be. You’re still hurt, mi amor.” He leaned forward and kissed me, his breathing almost ragged. “I wouldn’t wait if I didn’t have to. Believe me. You’ve now officially seen me at my worst- and at my best. And gotten into the thick of everything I do in the worst possible way. And you still want me. Reach for me. Want me to hold you and be by your side. Princessa, my love, my heart. I will not rush what should be a magical night simply because I want you right here and right now. So please. Let me help you get dressed and come lay with me. The sooner you heal, the sooner the pain leaves you the sooner I can show you exactly what it means to be loved by someone as intensely as I love you.”

He wrapped me in his arms and against his chest, I could hear the frantic beating of his heart. His hand fell down the small of my back and looked up at him, pushing myself up to kiss his lips. Inside my chest, my heart soared. He did love me.

“Okay Val. I’ll wait until you’re ready. Until you think I’m ready.” I looked up at him. “I love you too.”

He held me tighter, kissing the top of my head. He let out another slow exhale. “I love you more than you could ever know.” He hesitated and ran a hand over my cheek. “I need to get dressed and get to work. And you need to get in bed.”

I took a comb from the holder on the counter and began to work through the knots in my hair as I watched him yank his tee shirt over his head, and then reach for his jeans. I frowned as he stepped into them. “Wait, why are you putting your jeans back on? I thought you said we were taking a nap.”

He took the brush from my hand, smoothing out either side of my hair as he carefully worked his way through the knots. “No. I said you need to rest. I need to work, and I’m going to work from home as long as I possibly can. But if I put my sweatpants on, snuggle you next to me and lay down in bed I’ll fall asleep right besides you. But I can’t sleep in jeans- I just can’t do it. Hopefully between them and my laptop I can get enough done today that I don’t have to physically go into my office. And you can still rest, right next to me where I can keep an eye on you.” He set the comb down and reached for the mirror and wiped away the steam, picking up his heart shaped glasses and adjusting them on his face. “There.”

I turned and caught sight of myself in the mirror. The deep blues and blacks of yesterday stood out starkly against my pale skin. I frowned at my reflection. The shower seemed to have brought out even darker colors.

Valentino saw me looking and quickly lifted me up off the counter, pulling one of his clean shirts over my head before lifting me up and carrying me to bed. One hand holding me, the other tossing pillows against the headboard. He sat down, adjusting me so that I was snug against him before reaching for his phone, laptop, and headset. I watched him open the laptop screen and hit the startup button.

“You should sleep.” He told me, running his fingers through my damp hair. “I’m just going to be working, and you can’t heal that pretty face without rest.”

“Pretty isn’t the word I’d use.” I mumbled, more to myself than to him. “I look like shit.”

“Excuse me?” He reached down and tilted my head up so our eyes met. His voice was gentle, but his tone was one of anger. “Care to say that again?”

“I…” I paused and thought better of it. “No.”

“Alright then. You will heal, princessa. But in the meantime…” He pulled me gently to him and kissed my forehead. “You are not allowed to insult your beauty. Understood? The woman I love does not deserve to be insulted., not even by herself.”

I nodded. He shook his head, unsatisfied with my response.

“Let me hear the words, so I know you understand.”

That burning feeling in my stomach coiled up as he spoke. “Yes, Valentino.” I closed my eyes and laid myself on his chest, the sound of his heart thundering under me.

“Good. Because the sooner you’re healed the sooner I can show you all the fun parts of being with someone you love.”

I felt him kiss the top of my head and curled up next to him, I fell into a deep sleep.

#the vees #valentino x reader #valentino x wife #valentino x you #vox x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin fluff #the vees x reader #valentino #hazbin x reader #valentino x female reader #vox #valentino hazbin hotel

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iwaoiness · 2 months ago

Text

Iwaizumi, leaning against one of the barriers separating the stands from the rink, just a few meters away, smiles in amusement when a staff member stops Oikawa in front of the advertisement panel, where a group of eager journalists from various international sports outlets are waiting. Tooru hands over his water bottle after taking one last hurried sip and flashes them a bright, radiant smile before greeting them.

Then the round of questions begins, and Oikawa, with his hands behind his strong back and his tempting hips slightly tilted into his most comfortable stance, lets his tongue take the lead. He answers everything with charm and ease, drawing out a few collective laughs and subtly sidestepping the more personal questions so smoothly it's almost imperceptible. But the best part—the most amusing thing that will never cease to fascinate Iwaizumi no matter how many years go by—is the way Tooru switches between languages effortlessly, without the slightest hesitation.

When they speak to him in Spanish, Oikawa responds in nearly native Spanish, complete with his little filler words, that distinct "sh" sound, his melodic intonation, his voice a bit deeper. When they speak in English, Oikawa replies in smooth English, only tripping over the more complex words, slipping in some Californian slang, his voice a bit higher. When they speak in Portuguese (to many people's surprise), Oikawa answers in playful, cheerful Portuguese, a tone that matches his grin too well, leaning on his Spanish when he can’t find the right words, his voice soft. And when they switch to Japanese, Oikawa responds with a fluency that's one of a kind, his tone shifting into something that feels like coming home after months away, his tongue rejoicing in finally using those words from his native language that just don’t have the right weight in other tongues, his voice genuine.

Nearly fifteen minutes later, the session wraps up despite some mild protests from the journalists, and Oikawa bids them farewell with heartfelt gratitude. Hajime straightens up, never missing how Tooru looks for him with his eyes, how his slight pout melts into a sweet smile and a twinkle in his gaze when he finds him.

Damn it, he loves him so fucking much.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa jogs over, arms already outstretched to wrap around his neck in a warm hug, which Hajime quickly returns, his own arms finding their place around Tooru’s waist.

“Hey, babe. Good job today.” He places a soft kiss on Oikawa’s neck, near his jugular.

“Did you catch the whole interview?”

“Of course, mister it-was-a-very-intense-matcha.”

“That was just a slip-up, Iwa-chan! You’re so mean! Match and matcha sound really similar!” Oikawa protests childishly, lifting his face to pout at him under his messy bangs.

Iwaizumi grins playfully, pulling one hand away to reach into his pants pocket, where a ripe banana is sticking out. Oikawa’s eyes light up when Hajime hands it to him, and he snatches it immediately.

“I disagree, Iwa-chan is the best!” Oikawa self-corrects, practically moaning as he takes the first bite after peeling it with the hunger of a pro player who’s just played four hard-fought sets in the VNL quarterfinals.

Hajime rolls his eyes in amusement, watching him fondly, Oikawa’s voice still echoing in his mind like a mantra in four different languages: Go shitsumon arigatōgozaimasu, jitsuwa kono gēmude wa…", "No sentí que Matías estuviera en baja forma, solo que estaba boludeando demasiado en el primer set, de hecho…", "If I had to decide which set was more intense, I’d definitely say the second one—did you see that 6’7” opposite hitter who came in mid-set? And don’t even get me started on...", "O melhor momento sem dúvida foi quando chegou a vez do Lucar sacar, ele tentou um saque para cima e o idiota achou que tinha acertado a bola em um ângulo bom, mas ele bateu direto na cabeça dele. Ah, e também quando..."

“You know,” Hajime says, catching Oikawa’s attention as he chews, his right cheek bulging, “the way you speak so many languages and switch so easily is pretty hot.”

Just two seconds later, Iwaizumi regrets those words deeply when Tooru blinks at him, wide-eyed, before a mischievous smile spreads across his face, his eyes narrowing playfully. Hajime’s cheeks flush instantly because he knows that fucking smirk all too well, and damn the moment I opened my stupid mouth.

“Ara, ara, Hajime-chan! I didn’t know you had that kind of kink!”

“It’s not a kink,” Iwaizumi mutters through clenched teeth, glaring at him with burning cheeks.

“There’s no need to be so shy, my little big boy!” Oikawa widens his smile and tilts his head slightly, blinking in that way that makes Hajime’s pants feel suddenly tighter. “I can moan for you in four different languages when we’re in bed,” he assures, his voice low, gravelly, and damn tempting as he slowly bites off another piece of the banana, never once breaking eye contact with Iwaizumi, who feels his throat suddenly go dry.

And, oh.

Oh, shit. Merda. Kuso. Mierda.

...

maybe i'll post this on ao3 cuz its so so so funny

u can fine me on my ao3 and this is my carrd 🍉

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idontwanttospoiltheparty · 11 days ago

Note

Do you lean more towards the view that John was irrevocably in love with Paul but this wasn’t reciprocated in the same way because Paul is straight? Hence the bitterness of John and the bewilderment of Paul during the break up and the following decade? I struggle between this view and view there was a mutual love between them. I go back and forth, my head saying the first is probably more likely but my heart finding it too heartbreaking and depressingly tragic. Then finding further ambiguous stories that swing my view back around and so on and so on. I actually find the view that it was purely platonic on both sides more comforting (for lack of a better word) than the one sided love take on things. I also struggle with the *it was all John and his many mental issues fault* discord, maybe because I find it again, too heartbreaking. But also too black and white, Paul was the saint, John was the broken one. Ah I just don’t know! It drives me insane sometimes. I just wondered if you related at all? What’s your opinions? I just love reading nuanced Mclennon takes and I very much respect yours :)

Hi anon! thanks for this ask, I really enjoy talking about this too.

I actually think you bringing up what stories we find the most comforting is too often overlooked. The distinction between what is true and what one wants to be true is important.

Personally, I think the two-sided platonic take is the least tragic – not that friendship breakups aren't incredibly sad, but in this particular case it wouldn't carry as much extra baggage. TBH, regarding the one-sided scenario, I actually find it heartbreaking from Paul's perspective specifically, because it's something I feel he would both want to know and which would be about the most upsetting thing he could possibly find out now, when it is far too late to do anything about it.

But on the other hand, I also disagree that one-sided attraction from John's side is more heartbreaking than something two-sided (assuming it was deep, not just situational mutual lusting), because I find the idea that Paul has been hiding something that huge his entire life almost disturbingly sad. I know he's a private person, but if John was some lost Great Love of his, I can't imagine it not weighing on him that he's felt the need to tiptoe around that for half a century (given he does enjoy speaking about Linda in that way). As I've said, the idea of it being one-sided is very sad to me, but there's also sort of a "well, nothing to be done about that" to it, which takes some sting out of that scenario to me. If there was a mutual attraction there, then it does to me feel viscerally upsetting if they never got to actually give that a fair shot (seeing as most people don't think John and Paul were in a committed longterm relationship, even if they think they had a multi-year sexual thing going on).

Okay, now onto what I think the truth is. Firstly, I want to reiterate: I don't know the truth, there's a lot of unknown variables at play. There's a sort of "default" most likely scenario in my head, but I try to keep as many possibilities as I can in mind.

As I've said, I have not found there to be a very compelling case that Paul is anything but straight (but I am open to the idea that he might not be). There is a very compelling case that John was not. From there, it doesn't seem like a leap to me, based on quotes, that John at some point had at least a crush on Paul. What gets murkier is assessing how relevant that was to the breakup and their relationship at large. I agree with you that saying "the breakup happened because he couldn't stand not being with Paul" is a gross simplification, as is "John was Mentally Ill™, thus breakup". But dismissing either of those things as at least co-factors in the breakup seems unwise to me.

I feel like understanding John's journey with internalized homophobia would be relevant here. Even if by the time the band broke up he was no longer "down bad" for Paul, I can't help but feel like, if John was generally feeling negative about his attraction to men, that he would project that onto a former male love interest of his, especially if he was already mad at Paul for other reasons (business and music-related). I talked about how primal therapy specifically might have exacerbated this here (though bear in mind: I no longer would use the term 'conversion therapy' to describe primal, just because people tend to misunderstand the details and sensationalize this chapter in John's life).

Looking at John's breakup behaviour, I'm also somewhat reminded of this guy from my high school who went from very obviously crushing on me to very openly and repeatedly voicing his disgust with me. Is that to ensure nobody gets "the wrong idea"? Is it needing to convince yourself your feelings weren't real or that moving on is the right answer? I'm not sure.

Furthermore, Yoko did basically tell Norman that she thought John was partially extremely angry at Paul post-breakup because he felt sexually rejected by him. Like. That's a thing John's widow, who was there at the time, said lol, though I'm not actually opposed to the idea that maybe Yoko is kind of an overly enthusiastic shipper herself and has maybe even read more into it than was there. But I also can't just dismiss her when she is basically the single most knowledgable source on John.

Lastly, even though I think it's quite possible that John had an unrequited sexual and romantic attraction towards Paul, I don't think I'd claim Paul loved John less. I think Paul was kind of obsessed with John,* and still is in some sense (though the reasons for that are far more complicated and related to 1) the senseless tragedy of John's death and 2) Paul basically having to act as a sounding board for everyone on earth's grief for John).

Not that this fact would necessarily have been all that comforting to John at the time, but I kind of reject the premise that it's completely tragic because their relationship was built on a mutual love, even if it wasn't always compatible in that way.

*I also kind of think Paul probably enjoyed the attention John gave him, even if (or perhaps because) he didn't realize what John's intentions were.

Does that all make sense?

#ask #anon #jp speculation #my analysis #fiona.docx

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loganwritesprobably · 5 months ago

Note

– Robin with the 2° genre, prompt (h.) 🌸✨

You really DID go hard with all these requests! This prompt is SO sad in combination with Robin, but the genre gave me a little bit of hope. I ended up including Brook in a platonic sense, and I've never written him before, so I hope he's okay?

I changed the prompt a little to make it work and I think it's nice ✨

Content/Warnings: Robin/GN!Reader, hurt/comfort, established relationship, Reader is insecure, Reader & Brook, Brook gives good advice

Robin was one of, if not The, most powerful women you knew. Nothing hurt more than knowing you couldn't be as strong as her. You'd never have pulled through all of the awful things she had to experience in her life. You would never deserve her. She could do so much better than you, someone who could match her strength and beauty. You were stopping her from achieving more.

You sat on the deck of the Sunny under the bright moon, watching the stars twinkling reflections on the waves. Now that you were together, you couldn't imagine a way to break things off without disrupting the entire crew, which only made you feel worse. You could either make the right choice for Robin, or the right choice for the crew.

You heard footsteps approaching you from behind, but you didn't acknowledge the person, instead just kept your eyes focused on the dark abyss of the ocean.

"My, you look deep in thought." Brook commented, his bony hand coming to rest on the railing beside yours. "Yeah, something like that." You agreed, not looking up at him. "Berri for your thoughts?" He asked, and you sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. Maybe it would help, talking about it. Brook was a friend, and had so much life experience. "Robin deserves better." You said, because you didn't need to ramble or dice your words - that was the core of your issues. "Ah, I see. Struggling with feeling inadequate," Brook mused while you continued to look out at the horizon, afraid to look at him for the first time, "I think she'd disagree, and surely it's Robin who should be making that choice? We all see ourselves differently to how other people see us. We often don't see our own value." He said, and while his words made sense you struggled to apply them to yourself.

"Sometimes I just think I should break things off and leave, she gets the chance to do better and it doesn't affect the crew." "That would be running away, and I know you're no coward. Besides, we both know she'd just chase after you yohohoho." And once again, he was right. You knew he was. It was silly to be thinking about this because ultimately Robin was the one to decide what she wanted - and she'd chosen you. "Thanks Brook." You said, and he nodded. He gently rested his skeletal hand on your shoulder and squeezed before turning and leaving you to continue with your thoughts.

Requests are open! See below links for my other works, and how to leave requests. I write both canon/canon and canon/reader requests for your enjoyment

AO3 | Fanfic Masterlist | Request Rules | Fic Trades Guide | WIPs

Tags: @claryeverlarkf

#one piece #fanfic #writing #reader insert #loganwritesficlets #loganwritesrequests #nico robin x reader #nico robin #one piece x reader #gender neutral reader

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chaoticbardlady99 · 7 months ago

Text

Darling, Never Stop Haunting Me- MDNI 18+

Spawn! Astarion x F! Ghost Reader

Chapter 9: Performance Review

Synopsis: You and Astarion read your book and a moment of peace opens up the opportunity for risks. You ask Astarion to give you a lesson early in the morning after Karlach's morning wake up call wakes more than just Astarion's brain up.

CW: Oral (Female Receiving), Oral (Male Receiving), sex, praise kinks, virginity loss, Dom (Astarion)/ Sub (Birdie/You) ish

Disclaimer- put together the picture for the banner, but I do not own any of the pictures. I did take the picture of ‘Birdie’ and Astarion on my PS5

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you for all your support and love!

Chapter 8: Chapter 10: AO3

“He stuck his member into the man’s weeping hole-“

“Astarion,” you laugh, “stop, this is terrible- I don’t think it’s going to matter how many different voices you make or gestures- let alone languages- you read it in.”

“I disagree, my Love,” he says as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, “I think I have made it far more entertaining this way.”

“Ah yes because talking about a man’s ’weeping hole’ sounds so much better in a pirate voice or in Orcish.”

“Oh? Can you do better?”

You clear your throat before belting out in a C Minor, “HE STUCK HISSSS MEMBER INTO HIS WEEEEPPINGGG HOLEEEEE!”

You are both in stitches- this book is truly truly terrible, but it has erased any tension that had been lingering from earlier.

It’s probably pretty late now- surely it would be best to start going to sleep. You can’t get yourself to though, you want to spend as many waking minutes as you can with him.

You had really thought he was going to spend the night with someone else, but he’s here with you instead. He wanted to be here with you- he was rushing to get back here to be with you.

Your laughter dies down and you are both left in a comfortable silence. You lean back into Astarion’s chest once again- relishing in the feeling of the contact.

Maybe you just… make your move? It could be possible that he has feelings for you, couldn’t it?

You move slowly so that you straddle his lap and Astarion almost seems to help adjust you faster when he realizes what you are doing. He is looking up at you and your heart skips a beat.

Wanting. Need. Love.

Affections that are relatively foreign to you, but you can identify in his eyes because you feel the same.

You cup his face with your hands, your eyes search his face for any sign to stop, but his hands are tight on your hips and his mouth is hovering over yours of his own volition. You timidly close the gap.

It feels like fireworks, but not in the way one would expect. It feels like giddiness, happiness, whimsical, and excitement. His lips tease at yours and guide you as you learn how to kiss him.

It’s absolutely incredible- your hands gently grasp at his curls and he moans against your mouth. Astarion’s hands move to your ass and he maneuvers you so that you are even closer to him now.

You don’t know how you end up on your back, your hands pinned next to your head and your legs hooked around his hips, but it all feels positively divine.

All you can feel, breath, and acknowledge is him. Astarion is your entire world in this moment and you never want it to stop.

So of course Gale and Tav are screaming upstairs.

Astarion lifts himself from you with a huff of frustration.

“WHY ARE YOU GUYS SCREAMING!?”

You feel bad for feeling so annoyed, but Gods dammit- of all the times, now!?

“Uh hm, we- we,” they shout back, “WE ARE ARGUING ABOUT WHO IS GOING TO BE A BETTER DANCER DURING OUR FIRST DANCE!”

“TAV,” you yell from inside the room, “GALE HAS TWO LEFT FEET!”

“I DO NOT HAVE-,” Gale scoffs and throws his hands in the air, “you lot are insufferable!”

As soon as the shouting stops, you pull Astarion back down on the bed and straddle him- he greedily brings your crotch down to his own. You gasp at the contact.

More. You need more.

He seems to have the same idea.

You both fumble through taking each other’s clothes off- your shirt getting stuck over your head because you both forgot to unlace the front. Astarion laughs as your shoulders slump and you look at him through the fabric, the neck stuck on your forehead, entirely unamused.

“This is your fault, ya know?”

“Oh is it?” he says teasingly, “I’m not the one who chose the shirt.”

“Well I wasn’t the one in charge of taking it-” you are stopped by the gasp that leaves your mouth when his mouth latches onto your exposed breast.

Astarion is relentless in his ministrations- he teases at your sensitive nipples. They almost feel sore in the aftermath, but it just makes you want him to continue. He releases your nub with a flick of his tongue before repeating his affections on the other. You fumble with strings on your shirt- finally taking it off- and the sight underneath you causes a wave of warmth to coat your legs.

Astarion looks up at you with wide pupils and a hungry look in his eyes. He watches your every reaction and you try to hide behind your hair- only to have him quickly pull it away from your face.

“Oh no, no, no,” he kisses in between your breasts, “don’t become shy on me now.”

He brings you to a standing position, sinking to his knees as he kisses along your body and down your navel, and his hands gripping your ass. You feel worshiped, adored.

His mouth hovers over your already overly stimulated clit. He flicks his tongue across it and you gasp with pleasure.

“Do you want me to continue, lover,” he whispers, placing a kiss on your thigh that makes your body shiver in delight.

“Take me, Astarion,” you could cringe at how needy and cliche you sound, “I’m yours.”

Astarion smiles widely, “Oh Darling, I am sure the Gods have sent you to ruin me.”

His mouth is immediately sucking on your sensitive nub. Your hands grip his hair- eliciting a moan that vibrates to your core. You can feel yourself dripping between your thighs as he laps at you and teases you.

It all feels so right- his tongue against you, his hands holding you in place. You have certainly imagined moments like this, but nothing will ever compare to this- the real deal.

“Oh fuck- Star-“

He hums against you before dipping his tongue inside your virgin cunt and you whine with delight at the contact. Your legs begin to shake and a knot of pleasure is forming in your belly.

Astarion uses his strength to keep you upright as your legs begin to give and his tongue seems to find the magic spot because you are fighting to not scream in pleasure. This is a private moment and if you can hear them, they can certainly hear you.

He removes his tongue from inside of you and you whine in protest- looking down at him with tears pricking your eyes. You need to cum- it’s physically painful how turned on you are right now, in the best way possible, but still.

You had been so close.

“I need you to be a good girl, Birdie,” he says, his eyes hooded and his smile mischievous- placing an open mouthed kiss to your clit, “I need you to cum for me and,” he grabs your hand away from your mouth, “I want the entire world to know you are mine. Cover your mouth again and I will stop- I am so much more motivated when you sing for me.”

Fuck.

You don’t have a moment to respond before he’s diving back in between your thighs, spreading your legs a bit so that his nose begins to tease your clit while his tongue drinks in every last bit of you.

You feel the knot uncoil in your stomach and you have to put your hands on Astarion’s shoulders for support. Your legs shake and your knees feel like jelly. You can’t believe you have been missing out on this for 354 years!

He picks up your blissed out body and places you softly on the bed. Astarion grabs your left leg and begins to kiss up your body, starting at the ankle all the way down to your inner thigh. You feel so wonderful- you don’t ever want this to stop and a part of you is worried it’s a dream.

That thought is quickly thrown out the window when one of his fingers enters you and begins to slowly pump in and out.

Your back arches and your head goes back- a cry of pleasure leaves your lips.

“So pretty “ he kisses the inside of your calf, “so good and all mine.”

You whine in agreement- your body finally adjusted to one finger so he adds a second. His mouth and other hand begin to knead and play with your breasts. Astarion suckles and nips your sore nipples- he adds a third finger and you immediately see stars.

“A-astarion fuck…”

He removes his fingers from inside you- making eye contact as he cleans them off. He kisses the rest of the way up your body and his mouth hovers over yours. You feel the head of his cock tease your entrance, it’s already easily dipping in between your folds.

“Do you still want me to continue?”

You nod earnestly, but you definitely feel some of the nervousness you had forgotten about begin to build up. Astarion seems to notice this and raises an eyebrow at you.

“You are thinking about something- what is it, Darling?”

“What… what if I disappoint you?” you whisper, avoiding his eyes.

Astarion’s eyes soften significantly more, the flames of lust simmering and you fear you ruined the moment. He tilts your face back up so that you are looking him directly in the eyes.

“You could never disappoint me, Birdie,” he leaves a chaste kiss on your lips, “you are perfect in every single way and I truly am having the most wonderful time I have ever had sharing an intimate moment with someone.”

You sigh in relief- that makes you feel a lot less nervous about the whole ordeal.

“Let me know if I need to slow down or stop,” he whispers into your ear, “I fear, that if I have my way, you may not be entirely comfortable.”

Warmth pierces your clit and the ball of nerves feels strained with want. You nod and Astarion kisses you again at the same time he slowly begins to push inside of you. You gasp- the uncomfortable pinching feeling making the corners of your eyes prick with tears.

You feel so full and his shaky breaths against your lips, the stiffness of his lower half as he tries to be gentle. One of your hands reaches between you so that you can rub your clit.

You can feel the static energy waiting to be released within him- he has wanted this for a lot longer than you thought. A part of you was worried he had just begun to feel this way and you were moving it along too fast.

“You feel so good,” he kisses along your cheek, a moan leaving his beautiful lips as he moves in and out slowly, “it feels like you were made for me- made to take me.”

His words are genuine- you can hear it in his tone and the way he peers into your eyes now.

No performing, just Astarion.

“I feel like I was made for you too,” you whisper before kissing him again, he groans against your mouth.

Astarion rocks his hips, taking his time to stretch you around his cock. The pinching feeling is beginning to go away and unleash sensations of pleasure that you never thought you would get to experience in any lifetime.

He whimpers into your neck, his hips stuttering as he tries to hold back, but now that you feel good you need more.

“M-more- please.”

Astarion chuckles while releasing a sigh of relief, “well, since you asked so nicely, my love.”

His hips snap, all the power he holds back being put into several deep thrusts that leave your toes tingling and reduces you to nothing but a puddle of whimpering gasps and moans. Your arms are loose around his neck and he kisses you along your chin, leaving love bites as he makes his way to your collarbones.

The sound of your skin slapping together as he hits that perfect spot every single time is damning- his mouth is covering yours for the sake of some privacy (he doesn’t want you to feel embarrassed) but occasionally frees you so that he can hear you cry out as he thrusts back into you.

He adjusts so that one of your legs is up, ankle on his shoulder, and the other leg around his hip. You feel yourself blush as he makes eye contact with you through every movement of his hips, biting his lip and panting- his hair a wild mess for the first time ever.

“You are far too good for me,” you whine, “Gods, you are perfect.”

His pace falters- his body losing it’s rhythm for a moment and his head drops into the crook of your neck.

“You are amazing,” you say through gasps, “fuck-“

Astarion moves himself slowly within you and reaches down to play with your clit- pushing your hand away. Your back arches towards him- your body pleading for more as his pace picks up and his fingers continue to pay attention to your overstimulated clit. You are panting with want and he puts you on your knees.

The new angle and position as well as Astarion playing with your clit brings you closer to your orgasm than you had wanted to. You want to keep going- he feels so fucking incredible.

His. His. His. I am his and he is mine.

A blindingly wonderful sensation courses through your body as the knot unravels in your stomach again and your orgasm ripples through your body. You cry out his name, begging him to keep going.

“Good… girl,” he kisses your calf, his hips erratic now as he chases his own high.

The overstimulation and the general euphoria of being with him in this way makes your head spin in circles with happiness. Your lips are slightly parted and he coaxes pathetic whimpers from you.

“A-as-Astarion,” you say through a shaky breath, “I need you to cum inside me pl- EASE! FUCK!

That seemed to have unleashed something within him because he is quickly pistoning in and out of you- your moans turning into borderline screams of pleasure, taking a guttural pitch. You can feel the thick ropes of his being coat your walls, leaving a mess in it’s wake. Astarion collapses on top of you and he softens inside you. He nuzzles his face into your neck and hums with pleasure.

You breathe heavily as you try to regain your bearings. That was like nothing you have ever experienced before. He pulls you into him- his hands tracing shapes on your hips.

“That, my Sweet,,” he says between kisses on your shoulder, “was incredible.”

“Extremely,” you let out a breathy laugh of relief, “that stupid book doesn’t do the act nearly enough justice.”

“Maybe we should continue reading,” he whispers into your ear, “compare notes?”

You laugh and kiss the top of his head.

“I think we may just have to.”

****************************************************************

The morning sun and the sound of ruckus downstairs stirs you from your sleep- Astarion is still passed out with his face buried in your hair and his breath fanning your skin. He obviously hasn’t heard of his other companions' arrival.

Memories of last night come flooding back to you and you smile like an idiot- enjoying every second of your memories of the events.

It had been a beautiful dance- after so long of just wanting him and somehow, he wants you too.

“KNOCK KNOCK FANGS, TUNES! GET YOUR ASSES OUT HERE! IF I’M NOT GETTING EARLY MORNING SEX YET, THEN NO ONE IS!!”

“IF ONLY THEY WOULD HAVE NORMAL SEX TO BEGIN WITH!” Tav yells after her.

So everyone began drinking pretty early then and no one heard a thing. Awesome!

Astarion, obviously awake now, groans in irritation and presses his face into your shoulder.

“If we ignore her… she’ll go away.”

“I hope so,” you return with an equally sleepy voice, “I have no intentions of leaving this bed if I don’t have to.”

He chuckles and Astarion absentmindedly places a kiss on your shoulder. A needy, horribly wanting sigh escapes your lips. You would feel embarrassed, but it seems that he very much enjoyed the sound because you can feel his hard cock against your ass.

“SHIT!”

Astarion pulls away and looks absolutely panicked- pulling a pillow over his crotch area.

“Fuck- Gods- I am so sorry,” he is practically hysterical, “I-“

Your body moves for you and you press your lips against his- it’s a brief peck and he is absolutely bewildered by your actions. You feel the tears of rejection coming on the longer he doesn’t do or say anything and you hold them back like your life depends on it.

At least it you were given the opportunity to experience your dreams once, right?

“I- sorry- I thought after last night,” you chuckle awkwardly, tears falling from your eyes in spite of your willing to make them stop, “I will, um, give you some privacy.”

You don’t even have a moment to move before his lips are following yours and his thumbs are wiping away your tears- using his body to pin you to the mattress, flinging the pillow aside, and he grinds against your clit.

Gods, this is divine.

“That wasn’t just a dream?” He whispers against your lips.

“No,” you whisper back, “do you regret it?”

“Not at all,” he says promptly, “do you?”

“Not at all,” you smile back- his own smile becoming even more blinding.

His lips refuse to leave yours for even a second after that. He is soft with his touch, but desperate and needy all at the same time. It’s not difficult for you to keep pace with him- your body seems to be programmed to his within seconds. Only one time and you are entirely his. You are ruined for everyone else- you just know it.

However, you want to make him feel good and just focus on him this morning. You have heard him using the bathroom once or twice to… fulfill his needs, but you never could have dreamed he would be imagining you.

“Wait,” you put your hand between your lips and feel him frown, “I want to pleasure you.”

“Is that so?” He whispers, he looks surprised if you are being completely honest.

“Teach me how to take care of you,” you cup his face with your hands, leaving a chaste kiss, “show me.”

Astarion pushes himself off of you, pulling you upright along with him- he looks at you with curiosity.

“Are you sure, my Love?” He says wearily, “I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“I don’t,” you insist, “but if you don’t want me t-“

“That- my Dear- is far from the issue,” he steps forward, leaning forward to whisper in your ear, “get on your knees.”

You do as you are told, a jolt of arousal going straight to your core, and you hook your hands into the seam of his underwear, pulling them down and his cock springs free. All of this, just for you, because of you.

His tip is already weeping with precum and he looks embarrassed. Why? You think he looks beautiful this way. He always looks beautiful.

“You’re beautiful, Star,” you kiss along his navel, “I am so excited to finally know what you taste like.”

His eyes alight again at the praise and the implied desire in your words.

“Cheeky pup.”

Astarion wraps his hand around his cock and you look up at him with anticipation- he puts the tip to your lips and salty precum begins to dribble down your chin. You lap it up needily and that seems to push the embarrassment away. With hands tangled into your hair, he opens your mouth so you can take him.

Take him you do- his head hitting the back of your throat, you gag at the sudden presence, slightly embarrassed. Astarion chuckles.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about, Love,” he says darkly, “you are already being so good for me.”

You didn’t think you would have a praise kink, but you suppose it makes sense with the nature of your vocation anyhow. You live for praise and compliments so it makes sense.

Your mouth follows his hand as he strokes himself, his other hand gripping your hair, and keeping eye contact with you as he slowly fucks into your mouth. You are surprised by how much you are enjoying this, but it’s only because he obviously is.

Astarion is a moaning mess above you and around you, sweat starting to dampen his neck, and his hand guiding you to go faster. You apply pressure with your tongue and drag it along the sensitive skin- he shudders with pleasure.

“D-do that again and I… I want you to touch yourself.”

The last part comes out as a whisper and again, you are surprised to see him nervous and embarrassed about the things he is saying. It’s like you are both blushing virgins.

You happily comply, circling your tongue around his head and applying pressure on his slit. Astarion’s hand tightens in your hair as he begs you to keep doing that. You play and tease your own clit- humming with pleasure around his length. You can feel yourself blushing more and more as he praises you and guides you through touching yourself- eventually having you finger yourself at a painstakingly slow pace.

“Do- don’t change your pace until- fuck- until I tell you to.”

You hum and nod your head in understanding- bobbing him in your mouth. Astarion thrusts and hits the back of your throat- you gag a bit, but readjust much quicker this time.

Thank the Gods you have read so much pornography it could make an entire brothel blush. Being a 354 year old virgin really left a lot of free time and Donella had a very trashy library that was never redone.

The early morning sun is illuminating the entire room- his eyes are bright and practically sparkling, his pupils blown wide with lust, and you can see the little bit of blood coming from his bottom lip. He must have bit it- the crimson liquid mixing with the thin sheen of sweat that covers his face.

Your ministrations coax praise from him and even the occasional begging when you stop moving to tease him. This is far too fun, for once, you are the one in control.

“Fuck- I’m,” he is cut off by his own moan, his seed spilling into your mouth and down the back of your throat. You can’t help the smile that graces your lips as he watches you swallow with wide, affectionate eyes.

You release him with a pop, swallow, and stand up- throwing your arms around his neck.

“How did I do?”

Astarion throws his head back in laughter and you furrow your brows- leering at him.

“What!?”

“That was the single best oral sex I have ever received and you are asking for a performance review?” he scoffs playfully, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “you were perfect, as you are in all things.”

You beam- deciding to ignore his teasing.

“Would you like to join me in the bath?” He asks, “I doubt our companions are going to leave us alone for much longer if we don’t make an appearance.”

Instead of answering, you take his hand and drag him to the bathroom.

**********************************************************************

Author note: Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Please let me know if you would like to be on the tag list! I am using the Ghostwalk campaign for NPCs, locations, etc. It is a 3e Campaign and doesn’t mirror 5e Ghosts. I have tweaked some of the ghost powers and such for the sake of the story, but if you would like more information on Ghostwalk and the City of Manifest, there is a PDF online that is free to download :)

Tag List: @n3rdybirdee @fandomarchiveilyd @dajeong @hotmesshobbit @godoffuckedupcats @bitchstarion @hereliesblackdragon @pebble-bb @preciouslittlebhaalbae @lavvyan @beepersteeper @misscrissfemmefatale

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