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etherealwriting62 · 25 days

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He was the quiet, mysterious older brother that captured Asami’s heart. No one warned her just how “devoted” Remi could be, leaving her to discover the truth on her own. She’d been chained to him before, enraptured in the serenity of his love. Eventually, they stopped being a metaphor.

Word count: 2.1k.

Content contains: kidnapping, being drugged/sedated, abuse/toxic relationship, fingering in the tub.

Invisible Chains

Asami’s feet padded across the concrete floor, her breath labored and uneven as she tried to shift through the barely lit corridor. The sound of chains clanking together overwhelmed her senses, quickly followed by the scrape of metal across a wall. She didn’t know where she was; a basement, some remote bunker, but the schematics didn’t matter. All she cared about was getting away.

“Bunny, please, stop running!” His plea was strained with his budding temper, the red-hot rage he usually kept so perfectly hidden rearing its ugly head. But she couldn’t bring herself to obey his command, the taste of freedom teasing her tongue as more light slowly began to fill the area.

~*~*~*~*~

Remi Caruso had been an enigma to Asami. While his sunny-haired brother would chatter with her in his typical, wildly unabashed fashion, Remi would silently observe. He wasn’t mute, he would join their conversations from time to time to offer his own thoughts, but he was nowhere near as open as Luke.

Perhaps that was what caught Asami’s attention, the fact Remi’s aloofness was simply who he was rather than a trick to gather attention. To appear like the quiet bad boy; a dark, temping promise of something deep with a twist. If she had any idea how accurate that ideology was, or how morbidly deranged the ‘twist’ his persona promised was, she would have never allowed herself to get tangled in his web.

The start was innocent, sweet, and a tad awkward at times. The rare smiles he offered felt like the most precious and valuable of jewels being bestowed upon her. So accustomed to his deadpan personality, any shift to expose his softer side was a blessing. His affection became more apparent when he moved on from gifting her views of his more charming and playful side to constantly making food for her. If his passion alone for cooking wasn’t enough to make Asami graciously accept his offering, the delectable smell and mouth-water flavor certainly was.

As the months passed by, his behavior became more peculiar, especially after officially becoming a couple. Remi became more suspicious of Asami’s outings, constantly asking who she was with, in a tone that made it clear it was a demand to know rather than a simple curiosity. He turned more possessive, always keeping her close to him while out. If someone were to eye her for a second too long, the breath stealing glare he’d shoot in their direction was enough to end the ogling.

That was months ago, and despite the alarming number of red flags sprouting in front of her, Asami brushed them off as insecurities in a new relationship. Wrong, horribly wrong. Remi’s love presented in pristine packaging with an ornate bow on top when it should have been wrapped in fluorescent caution tape. He’d devolved into full mania since then, Asami wasn’t allowed to go out without him. He kept strict tabs on her phone and computer, monitoring any interaction she held with others. Social media was banned, any accounts she had were now inactive and left untouched.

It was too much to deal with but leaving him on her own wasn’t something feasible. If she were to break free of his talon-like clutches, it would require the assistance of another. Being Remi’s brother, and the reason the couple had met, Luke seemed like the perfect person to liberate Asami from the controlling monster that had devoured her soft Remi. To say he wasn’t loving or affectionate would be a crass lie, in fact, he was far too much to handle. He never stopped showering her with gifts, making her favorite meals, or running baths for the two of them after a stressful day. But his wicked ways had a habit of showing at the slightest sign of what he deemed insubordination. Just as quick as his hands were to caress her skin, they were quicker to lash out in his full wrath. But once she was subdued to a whimpering mess of apologies and promises to never leave, he’d soothe the pain by littering kisses against her.

So, when he offered his car to Luke so that Asami and the blonde male could run to the market, she tried to reason her escape. Asami told Luke, with tears streaming down her face, of how cruel and manipulative Remi could be. Of how much he terrified her. How much even hearing him say “I love you” made her blood run ice cold, because with him she knew he’d love her until death did them part. And that was the only thing that would ever break her from him. “Please don’t take me back,” Asami had begged, wide doe-eyes staring through the terror-stricken brother. When he slowed the car before pulling it onto a side street to a complete stop, her heart skipped a beat. He was going to help her escape, he was going to break her free of his wretched brother's iron-grip! But all hope died the moment Asami heard the car doors lock. She already knew Remi had a special feature on his vehicle that allowed the latch to drop inside the door, making manually pulling the lock free impossible. That knowledge didn’t stop her from looking, in hopes that maybe that soul shattering click was Luke undoing the door for her to run. “‘L-Luke,” mocha eyes looked back at him through blurred pools of tears, mouth gaped open in chilled shock.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, gaze locked on his hands clutching the steering wheel in a bone-white grip.

She shook her head before turning her body, desperately clawing at the tiny hole the lock vanished inside of. “No. No, no, no, no!” One of Luke’s arms wrapped around Asami, pinning her arms to her side and her back against his chest as she writhed.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated before a prickly sting pierced the junction of her neck and shoulder, a burning heat flooding through the area before the world faded to black and her body went limp.

When Asami finally awoke, she wasn’t in her home. The bedroom she was in was devoid of any hint of life, no sentiment brought in to comfort her. The prison she was punished with for trying to escape was far colder than her previous, and she suddenly felt herself wishing to take it all back.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Asami wasn’t able to tell how long had passed since then. It could have been a year, maybe a few months. With the way time dragged on in her concrete cell, it could have only been a few days. Aside from Remi checking in on her during the times he dropped off breakfast and then when he stopped by following his regular work hours, she had nothing to keep her company. Before, she used to dread seeing him, the sound of his shoes paddling across the ground immobilizing her on spot. Now, she craved his arrival, the gentle pets he would offer her, how he would so delicately wash her in the shower, as if the slightest bit of pressure would crumble her to ash.

Remi pressed a gentle kiss against her neck, right behind her ear just as he let the washcloth float to the bottom of the tub. Asami leaned into the touch, humming softly in contempt. He smiled against her damp skin, slowly leaving a trail of butterfly kisses down the expanse of her neck and shoulder.

“Remi,” she crooned quietly, shifting in the pool of suds as her thighs clenched together, desire beginning to pool in her lower stomach. He chuckled, the sound low and heady, the soft moans and mewls she let out for him rushing straight to his cock. He was in a time crunch, needing to meet with Luke and still run to the store, but he could at least spare a few minutes to indulge Asami some. After all, she’d been such a good girl for him lately.

He continued to let his teeth graze across her flesh as one of his hands trailed down her body, cupping around the side of her breast before ghosting over her ribs and waist. When his hand graced over the top of her thigh, her legs spread, encouraging him to move to the apex. “Eager, aren’t cha?” He snickered, his middle and ring finger teasing her folds. His lips pulled into a teasing smirk, slipping both fingers into her up to his first knuckle, “so wet and I’ve barely touched ya. You want it that bad?” Asami moaned, fighting the urge to grab his wrist and force him deeper. Nodding eagerly, her legs twitched as his fingers wiggled deeper, slowly stretching her.

“Please, Rem,” her hips twitched with need, knowing how easily he could find the spongy spot inside that sent her eyes rolling to the back of her skull. Watching Asami be so desperate and needy made him want to draw it all out, tease her until she was a mess of tears and incoherent babbles, but he didn’t have the time for that. Without warning, he pistoned his fingers into her throbbing core, groaning at the way her soft walls fluttered around his digits. He curled inside her, the ‘come hither’ motion rubbing right against her most sensitive spot. Asami’s head fell back, hand gripping the side of the tub as she quickly reached her peak. His thumb brushed her clit a few times, switching between circular motions and side swipes. “Remi!” His name flew off her lips in a cry of pleasure, legs jerking and stomach knotting as she released on his fingers.

“Sucha good girl,” he purred, slowly withdrawing from inside her to quickly wash away the slick stuck to her sensitive lips. She exited the tub as the water drained, Remi wrapping a towel around her before guiding her back to the bedroom. He left her in the middle of the room as he gathered clean clothes for her to change into; soft pajamas that felt like clouds against her skin. She stood with eyes closed in bliss, savoring the feeling of him dressing her. Asami fully expected him to undress and join her in bed, but instead she heard the dreaded sound of metal clinking together.

Her eyes snapped open in a wild panic, backing away as he came closer, shackles in hand. “No,” she pleaded desperately, voice soft and cracking along with her brief sense of comfort.

Remi sighs, running a hand through his stormy locks, “C’mon, Bunny. Don’t be that way, ‘s for ya own good.”

“No!” The concrete wall met her back, the rough surface scratching along the smooth fabric of her shirt and pants. Remi growled, quickly growing tired of her refusal to cooperate. The softness of his neutral expression turned dark, gunmetal orbs blowing over like the black of clouds before a hurricane. He slammed a hand against the wall, directly beside her head. It was enough to make her cower in fear, trying to recoil from him, but having nowhere to go. Using her flighty response to his advantage, he managed to clip one of the cuffs around her wrist.

Something in her switched the moment that frigid metal met her warm skin, and the chained hand came up before whipping across his face. His neck snapped to the side, stunned and immobilized by her brash decision. Her legs moved before her brain could process the consequences of her action, or the reality of what she even did. He left the bedroom door open, something he’d been doing more frequently since Asami started to regain her comfortability around him.

That’s how she found herself darting through the halls of whatever frozen hell he had been keeping her in. Frantically searching for a way out despite the pang in her heart at the idea of leaving him. She loved him, the soft side of him, the parts of him that loved and nurtured her like a man deeply in the throes of romance. But the rest of him, his possessiveness, his explosive anger, every psychotic tendency pushed her away.

“Bunny!” Both of them skidded to a stop, the exit mere feet away from her. She could practically hear the serenity of life haunting her from the other side, the golden glow of the setting sun seeping under the crack at the base of the door. Freedom was a skip and a jump away, but she looked at him. Dark gray fringe tousled across his forehead, light eyes wide and brimmed with his liquid apology for scaring her away. Crimson seeped down the side of his face, his wound a reminder of her betrayal. Trapped between the man she loved and the chance at true happiness, she faltered.

Would she really be free?

#writing #one piece #oneshot #story writing #writers on tumblr #original post #original character #dark romance #new adult #adult work

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etherealwriting62 · 28 days

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Aurora Crown was the definition of a ticking time-bomb; a ruthlessly trained operative patiently waiting for her next orders. A threat on her own, but more so after her decision to turn against those who morphed her life. Unwilling to be under the rule of those who abused her, Aurora seeks out a highly monitored (and illegal) substance to aid her journey toward self liberation… only to encounter the people she most wanted to avoid. (This is a mini series! Pt. 1 of ?).

Word count: 4.1k

Content contains: mentioned/implied drinking, drug use (as mentioned in the summary), nonspecific mentions of abuse

Of Air and Fire

The bass thrums through the foundation of the house, creeping up the walls and vibrating within the oak of the stairs. Heat seeps from the ordinance in tendrils whenever a door opens, spewing out to mix with the chilly night air. If not for the auspicious location, their meeting would be impossible, constantly intercepted by those who wished to maintain their quiet peace.

Aurora shudders silently at the edge of the surrounding countryside, eyeing the lively event with disdain in her gaze. The normally depopulated house only came alive for times like this, when a massive gathering was to be held. The sizable estate was kept rather tidy, whatever hosting group was in charge of the most recent event was always careful to diligently clean up the evidence of their presence. A minute detail that made Aurora feel less grimy about occupying the abandoned land for something as trivial as a party. You’re only here for one thing, she reminds herself as she crosses the open field of grass and wildflowers. There would be a plethora of people who knew her inside, and while them seeing her would be enough cover to make the covert operation easier to conceal, it didn’t mean she had genuine interest in socializing. Halfway to the front door she could already make out the distinct voices of the Special Operations triad that had the heart of the city in their hands. Kind, honest souls- albeit a bit too loud and rowdy for Aurora’s peculiar taste. They didn’t let their early acquired prestige swell their minds the way others in similar esteem had; an admirable trait in her opinion.

“Aurora!” The shrill screech of inebriation came tumbling off the front steps, clumsily colliding with the blonde. With her arms flung around Aurora’s neck, she whines into her ear, “You would show up when I’m leaving.”

The female wrapped around her was alien to the goal-focused girl, but the male coming to retrieve the party-goer was all too familiar. “Yours,” Aurora questions, one arm slung under the drunk brunette’s armpit to help keep her standing, as she stares down the approaching mocha-haired male.

“You don’t even know her name?”

“Should I?” Aurora coaxes the unnamed woman awake with a few shrugs of her shoulder, “Hey, hey! You know this loser?”

“Fuck you,” he reaches for the bleary-eyed girl only to have Aurora smack it away.

Glaring at Aiden, Aurora rouses the other member of their interaction awake once again, managing to get her to focus long enough to wrap-up the already too long encounter. “Hi, beautiful. Do me a favor, look at him,” she points a finger at Aiden, “Are you with him?”

“Yeah!” Giggling gleefully, she reaches her arms out to him, stumbling slightly as she pulls away from her bodily support. Aiden catches her, keeping her from planting into the ground just as she chirps out, “He’s my boyfriend!”

“Excellent,” it’s more monotone than she anticipated, but dwelling over it isn’t something she’s willing to allow. “It was nice meeting you.” She makes it a point to make eye contact with the girl, never passing another glance at Aiden before trudging up the porch and inside the crowded house. Her nostrils immediately flair, the potency of spilled liquor burning the insides of her nose. Careful as to not slip on the clear liquid puddled near the entrance, Aurora sinks into the cloud of smoke, heat, and bodies. She makes idle conversation whenever someone bothers to speak to her, too entranced by the sight of her first mile marker to truly engage. Not so consumed by tunnel vision that she couldn’t mildly enjoy her journey, she moves in tune with the blaring music, dancing her way through the masses. There was no real time crunch, no deadline to meet or higher up to report to, but her window to retrieve exactly what she needs is limited. The moment she’s in front of the grandiose staircase, her heart skips a beat, equal parts excitement and trepidation coursing through her. Remember why you’re doing this, she mentally encourages herself, using her driving motivation to push her forward. Bodies, cups, and abandoned shot glasses litter her ascent, causing more of an inconvenience than anything truly impacting. Aurora keeps a level head, unwilling to let something as insignificant as a mild holdup unravel her composure. She doesn’t hesitate once her feet hit the second floor, veering to the right and following all the way down until the upstairs parlor met the private corridors. People rarely ventured even remotely close to this end of the house, though it was widely unknown as to why. Apart from the desperate need for dusting, it was well maintained. Passing down the left side of the forked corridor, Aurora glances over every closed door she passes, counting until she comes to the one she was searching for. She hesitates momentarily, though it feels like an eternity in her mind. Hand hovering over the doorknob as if she was gauging to see if the metal sphere was hexed. Silently, she takes a deep breath, steeling herself in her resolve as she opens the door and slips into the lightless room.

Quick deduction tells her the room must have blackout curtains, not even a sliver of moonlight creeping into the void. She doesn’t need to see to know he’s in the room, she can sense him; hear the barely audible way the old wood floor creaks under his weight, feel the uncertainty oozing from him like dread. A shady character in general, she can only assume he’s using the advantage of already being adjusted to the nearly nonexistent light to size her up. Not that she had any resentment towards the act, she’d do the same thing in his position.

Frigid static rips down her spine, the flighty presence before her shifting entirely in the fraction of a second. Her hair stands on end, flesh prickling with unease. Just as she prepares to have to defend herself, a male’s voice calls out, “Synthesizers? Really?”

An exasperated breath befalls her lips, nearly collapsing into herself at the revelation of who she stands before, “How did you even know about this?”

“You know what they say about people who answer a question with a question, right?”

“Says the one who just did it.” Unrelenting in his refusal to speak, Aurora caves first, “Yes, clearly. Do you have them?”

“Thought you wanted to know how I knew.”

“Kai! Please.” The plea is strained, spoken through grit teeth as he quickly whittles away her patience. How he managed to unravel her so quickly she’d never know, almost always able to keep her composure. Even in the face of her biggest adversary she’d remain neutral, unmoved in their attempt to rile her. Something about Kai was just different.

A ball of swirling heat illuminates the space between them, Kai no more than four feet away from her now. He smirks, able to make out the piercing glare she wears despite the way she tries to keep her expression schooled in neutrality. He keeps his fire low, not wanting the temperature to cause her to back away. “You know I still keep tabs on you,” her lavender irises roll to the farthest corner of her skull, “So when one of my guys told me you hit them up for synthetics, I took it as a personal interest. Now, if I have them or not,” his free hand reaches out, index finger tapping her nose condescendingly, “Depends on why you want them.”

Huffing out her agitation, Aurora pushes his hand away from her before crossing her arms over her chest. She turns her cheek to him, chin cast to the side as she mentally battles with her combative nature. More than anything, she wants to avoid having to tell him anything, but even she knows when her hands are tied. “A personal vendetta that requires the release of something.” He doesn’t get a moment to question her vague response, Aurora pointing to the black, metal collar clasped around her neck.

“Oh,” he mouths wordlessly, eyeing the hauntingly familiar neckwear. A power reducing device, assigned to those with abilities for one reason or another, but typically in more extreme situations. Kai had his own for a while as a young Special Ops trainee, a sudden development in the mechanics of how his Fire ability worked making the skill too much for him to control. Gifted with a Special Operations Commander for a father, access to unlimited training and medical care was boundless, leading to Kai being freed of his collar within three years of having it put on. Kai never knew why Aurora had one, and with how long it had been around her neck, he forgot she had it altogether. “Didn’t peg you as the revenge type.”

“Maybe that’s because you don’t actually know me all that well.”

The air sours, Kai feeling the jab too close to the chest to take it without retaliation. “That wouldn’t be the case if you hadn’t been fucking shutting me out.” Illumination reaches more of the room, Kai’s building emotion influencing his flame. “We used to be close, Dawn.”

“Don’t!” She holds a hand out, index finger pointed at him in rigid warning.

Kai grabs her wrist in his free hand, pulling her closer with a swift, smooth tug, “But you let Aiden cloud your judgment.” The laugh he releases isn’t one of amusement, full of bitter disappointment instead, “Fucking Aiden! Why? Because he made you believe he was the next big, upcoming hero of the forces?”

Even in knowing the question was rhetorical, Aurora can’t stop herself from blurting out, “No! It was because I didn’t care about using him as a pawn. If he was lost, it wouldn’t matter in the grand scheme.”

His lips remain parted in unspoken queries of his shock, the honesty in her features eliciting an unanticipated bolt of twisted arousal through him. Maybe his mind was darker than he often chose to admit, but he wouldn’t let that restrict him in the moment. “You were just planning to sacrifice him?”

Aurora’s arms fly into the air with emotionally exhausted charged exasperation, flailing rapidly before aggressively slapping at her sides. Speaking of a relationship she never acknowledges, with a man she never let cross her mind anymore -save the brief encounter not long ago- for any reason, was not on her “to do” list. But if Kai was nothing else, he was at least persistent to a point of inducing madness. “I loved him at first, ‘kay? Before I got to know him, see the real him. Then he was just a stepping stone to my endgame.”

“And the endgame?”

With her wrist still in his grasp, she opens her palm expectantly, the act unfolding directly in front of his tangerine stare. “Give me the synthesizers, Kai.”

He squints, their gaze never breaking, as he searches through the emotions sitting behind her pupils to help guide his final decision. Finding only the stubbornness of a bull, he smirks, giving in to the rarely seen rooted behavior. Releasing her of his hold, Kai digs into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small vial and dropping it into the center of Aurora’s palm. She studies it carefully under the light of his flame, eyebrows furrowing at the bright azure liquid. When she pinches it between two fingers and twists off the lid, she wafts a hand over the opening, blowing the scent up to her nose. Disgust crinkles her expression, eyebrows furrowing as her nose wrinkles in retaliation to the offensive smell. “I’d pinch your nose,” Kai suggests with the mild stress of a held breath in his chest, able to smell it from traumatic memory. Heeding his word, she does as instructed before throwing back the concoction like a shot. Even with the added assistance of dulling her senses, the synthesizer stings like pungent acid pouring down her throat. Body immediately buzzing from the power-enhancing drug settling straight in her stomach and absorbing into her tissue, she reaches a shaking hand around to her back pocket, pulling out a micro-sized vial of a red viscous material Kai didn’t need any help to identify. Dryness cast upon his mouth like sand in the desert, watching as the saliva mixed blood temporarily stains her usually pink lips with crimson. Morbid bewilderment ebbs away to stuttering disbelief, watching as her fingernails morph to black talons, the glint of their razor sharpness reflected off the light between them. The part of his brain quelling his astonishment at the display reminds him her power allows her to bend light, causing any illusion she could desire.

“Holy fuck,” Kai whispers in spellbound captivity, unable to look away as the claws shave off the loathsome prison around her neck in two swipes.

Aurora shoots him a smirk as dangerous as her weaponized hands at the inky-haired man, “Everyone thought I was too weak to handle my gift, but really, my father convinced Ryuu,” Kai’s eyes bulge at the drop of his father’s name, “To put it on me because he was worried access to my full potential would easily lead me to corruption.” She looks down at her hands, retracting the velociraptor-like appendages to return to her normal, human features. He wouldn’t jump to conclusions, knowing the suddenly intimidating woman all too well to let the reveal of her power run him off. “See, my father was actually worried I’d supersede him and take him down.” Looking up with a slight sideways cant to her head, Kai finds eyes of neon staring him down, recording every minuscule motion of his to gauge his reaction to her. Observing to see if he was truly listening to her confession. Admittedly, from seeing the fraction of raw power and discipline he’d just witnessed, he could easily understand her father’s concern. He won’t pass any judgment, not until he has the rest of the story she was withholding— determining if he’s worthy of the full context. “He’s the Blue Reaper.” A moniker earned from the manner in which he murdered his victims. The notorious criminal had responsibility for the death of hundreds of civilians, a dozen of the top Special Ops figures, three political figures, and too many standard skill officers to count. All of which were burned to white ash by an unknown neon azure material too hot to be fire, but too gaseous to be an altered magma. It defied cause and origin, leaving everyone at a dead end on suspects. An ability of that caliber had never been recorded, not in the written history of the existence of their mutant skills. The history didn’t run that far back, only long enough for 37% of the population to have developed these traits. The bloodlines were tracked meticulously, watching how new traits would bloom from two skilled individuals having a child. There was yet to be any real correlation of how the passing of these altered genes would impact offspring, any combination of possibilities generated. Kai wasn’t naive enough not to do his own doubting and digging into all the information revealed about those gifted like him, coming to discover a rare 5% of the uniquely talented population that could inherit the traits of both their parents. A dual-skilled population all carefully traced by the people in control. People like Kai’s father, people like Aurora's father, who both knew of her ability and spent countless, grueling hours training her to be a perfect machine. A reality Kai hadn’t connected until now. He trained with his father from the first sign of his developing power, the only child of seven to inherit any ability. But his sparring never touched the intensity of what little he managed to witness of the younger girls training. He always assumed Aurora earned her power-reducing collar for the same reason he had, not because of the reason being presented to him.

“Alright,” he shoves his hands in his pockets, allowing his fire to encompass his midnight tresses, tired of being down an arm. “Now what do we do?”

“We,” her incredulousness drips off her tongue like venom, the question lingering between pinched brows. She’s untrusting of the way he so easily sides with her, asking for no form of proof before essentially agreeing to start a rebellion with her. He was right, she cast him aside due to Aiden’s ironclad hold over her decisions and life for the short time she was under his spell. Even after leaving Aiden behind, Aurora was too ashamed of her behavior towards Kai to contact him. She was still too busy punishing herself to realize he was never her opposition. He didn’t resent her in any capacity; he missed her, worried about her no matter how well he covered the truth. A final beat of silence passes before Aurora relents, finding no reason to be untrusting of the other mutant. “We don’t do anything stupid, for starters.”

She swipes the broken metal collar off the floor, handing it to Kai. Nothing needs to be said for him to understand her request, blue flames erupting from his palm to incinerate the device. Her astonishment is palpable, written across the tiny ‘o’ shape her mouth forms. Aurora knew he’d learned more about the manipulation of his own power, but never fully came to understand. The strange tingle in her nose, caused by the temperature difference in the captivating fire, is all she needs to realize it has something to do with the elements he has to use around him. “Can you make pink?”

Kai snorts, a Cheshire grin stretching across his lips at the simple question. She used to hate that color, he muses with a strange smugness at the way she continues to stare at him expectantly while forcing herself to ignore the tinge of rose nipping across her cheeks. He could tease her into a furious ball of scarlet until she’d inevitably cuss him out, but a haunting sensation of fear of turning her against him coaxes him to swallow the urge. “Not in here.”

Nodding, Aurora spins on her heels, going to open the door to the room they’d been hiding in. Before she can grab the handle, the door pushes towards her. Cat-like reflexes have Kai quickly reaching over Aurora, catching the wood barrier in his palm and slamming it closed. “Hey! Who’s in there?” Aurora freezes, hearing the voice of someone Kai works with on the Special Ops team. She never bothered to remember his name, not fond of anyone who maintained a close relationship with her father. The goal was to get in and out, knowing no one at the party would realize she had destroyed her collar, but anyone who worked on the S.O team would spot it in a heartbeat. Feeling her anxiety thrum against the column of her throat, she swallows thickly, mind running at the speed of light to conjure a way out. Quick, simple thinking leads Kai to grab Aurora by the waist, spinning her backward into the corner by the door. He cages her between the wall and one of his arms, blocking a clear view of her face with his bicep. His free hand wraps around her throat, long, lithe fingers grasping at the corner of her jaw to tilt her head up. Kai lowers his face to hers until their lips barely graze, whispering, “Don’t move, play along.” Tilting his head ever so slightly creates the illusion of the pair in a lip lock, Kai remaining in the position until the door comes flying open seconds later. He steps closer to Aurora, shielding her smaller frame with his as sunset orbs glare daggers into his coworker. “Did slamming the door not indicate it was fucking occupied?”

“Oh, shit,” the wild-haired blonde backs up, hands up beside his chest in a symbolic gesture to a white flag. “My bad, Kai.” Emerald eyes dart to the side, taking a quick glance at the girl with the noirette. Catching sight of navy curls, he doesn’t bother to examine much more, “Did you hear anyone else up here? We got word that she was stalking around.”

“Been kind of busy, Jasp.” Sneering out his name like a curse is all Jasper requires to make a speedy exit, having no interest in incurring the wrath of the spitfire male. The door is left cracked, just enough light seeping in for the duo to see each other. Jasper flinging the door open allowed Aurora to use her mother’s mutant trait, bending the light to conceal her identity. The sliver of warm yellow fluttering in is enough for her to maintain her cover, unwilling to drop the disguise for even a moment. Warm fingertips squeeze into the sides of her neck twice before his thumb traces across her throat, following the area her collar used to be. “You got a plan for that?”

“Artificial at home,” she answers curtly, voice hushed with unease.

As her focus begins to drift, irises darting from side to side in mental contemplation, Kai grips her jaw in his hand. With her chin cradled in the web of his palm, middle finger and thumb pressing into her cheeks, he guides her to meet his attention, “You don’t look like you, it’s fine.” A fact she’s aware of, though for some reason, it does little to quell her worries. Jasper knowing she was here to begin with was already too much information leaked, too much of a chance it would give her father a reason to hunt her down. The dupe collar in her apartment was crafted carefully enough that he’d never tell the difference, but he’d see through her illusion in a split second. “Ah-ah, none of that shit,” Kai snaps his fingers in front of her face, forcing her back into the moment and out of her head. Orchid terror stares up at him, revealing the true extent of the fear she reserves for the man who helped create her. “Damnit.” With no warning or hesitation, he scoops Aurora up bridal style and carries her out of the room, heading towards the end of the hall. She trusts him enough to not vocalize her many questions, instead watching his face as he focuses on his task. Kicking a foot up, he unlatches the door, using the tip of his boot to push the handle down. Kai uses his shoulder to push the patio door open, stepping onto the overhang that faces the woods on the eastern point of the house. Knocking the door closed with his hip, he steps to the thick, metal railing of the balcony, “Hold on to me.”

Aurora does as instructed, wrapping her arms around his neck as flames propel him off the ground. He only uses the fire streams to safely lower them to the ground, unwilling to be caught using his power for something not necessary. The likelihood he’d face any consequences were minimal, but it would still be a headache to have a meeting to explain himself. Once his footing is secured on the grass, Aurora slips out of his grasp, looking around before locking eyes with Kai. The playful smirk he gives makes her laugh under her breath, taking off in a sprint towards the thick forest. She’s careful to keep her illusion activated until there’s no doubt they’re alone, allowing her to return to her normal appearance while keeping her steady stride. Kai was purposefully staying at a distance, taking far too much pleasure in playfully stalking her through the freshly bloomed greenery. Separated from the cautionary scene of the house party, Aurora’s behavior is a stark contrast to what he witnessed earlier. Watchful eyes remain locked on her like a missile, delighting in the way the blonde weaves seamlessly through the brush and branches. Any noticeable tension from earlier has subsided, freeing her of the restrictive compartmentalization their initial meeting elicited. This is the Aurora he knows, the one he nicknamed Dawn after the way her purple stare and illuminating smile reminded him of the rising sky. An adventurous spirit bound by the expectation of others, a rootless being trapped by the chains of perceived duty. He could relate more than he was willing to admit, his only reasoning for joining the collection of mutant soldiers was to uphold his family legacy. Kai never desired to be a symbol of justice, the image of lawfulness, it was simply expected of him the moment his power manifested. Maybe helping her was his first true step toward whatever he’d been hoping for. For the bittersweet taste of liberation he’d held on to since first being awoken to the harsh truth of their reality.

#writing #short story #mini series #writers on tumblr #story writing #original character #original post #new adult #young adult #fantasy

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etherealwriting62 · 1 month

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Korra was prolific to those around her, gifted with brains, beauty, and a genuine heart. While she was shielded from the morbidity of the dark world those closest to her led, it didn’t save her from garnering attention to those she was to be protected from. She would happily keep her nose out of their sketchy world, until she’s left with no other choice.

Word count: 5.2k

Content contains: dry humping, naked grinding, brief mention/use of a gun, dubious consent, character death.

Love Kills

If Dominic was the King at their University, Korra was undoubtedly the Queen. She didn’t belong to the ever-popular male in any sense, nor anyone else. But she had managed to capture the heart and attention of just about everyone at the University in one way or another. Captain of the cheer squad, a favorite member of the dance troupe, and even the president of a Saturday anime club; she mixed with every group to cross her path. Despite the lack of romance between the two of them, Korra and Dominic were mistaken as a couple quite frequently. Rarely were the two of them ever found apart from each other, practically attached at the hip. He was her best friend, even if she disapproved of some of the business he had been entangled in. Not like he had much of a choice, leading the local mafia seemed like a birth-right for the brunette. His family had been running the branch for as long as its history could be traced. Korra’s family was an officiate of their branch, often working for them and getting caught up in the crossfire between them and their main rivals. Not Korra, though. She was forbidden from being part of that life, and if anyone were to enforce that rule, it was her brother, Christian. While she knew the business her family was involved with could be a bit shady, she had no idea how serious everything was. Her parents, Christian, and Dominic had devised clever covers and pretty lies to shield her from the full truth.

Korra smiles, waving to her brother and Dominic as she approaches them. “Dom! Chris!” Her chipper voice immediately draws them from the hushed conversation they had been in the middle of, quickly putting a lid on the situation as the redhead made her way closer.

“Kore!” Dominic greets back, quickly moving away from the agitated ravenette to wrap her in his arms. “How was class?”

“Fine,” she giggles, his breath tickling as he spoke into the crown of her head.

“Enjoying your second year?”

“Of course! Much more excitement than my first.”

“Oh?” Christian queries, a frown quick to replace his quizzical expression as he watches a mischievous smirk pull across Korra’s lips. Dominic already knows what that devilish grin means and nearly shivers with excitement. Christian merely scoffs at the two of them, turning on his heels to begin walking in the direction of their home.

“Deontae invited me to a party tonight!” There’s a pitched hum that comes from Dominic, and while he does his best to guise it as playful curiosity, she can easily read through the cover. There’s a distressed signal radiating from him, one Christian is quick to replicate, albeit far more annoyed than the young leader. Dominic and Christian have two years over Korra, and while the majority of the men that work with them are also in their final year of University or already long graduated, there are some that fall into the younger years with the protected female.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t go to this one,” Christian admits with his usual tone that leaves little room for argument. Of course, Korra always challenges him.

“Why? I want to go out with Tae and Dom.”

“I’m with Chris, this time. You shouldn’t attend tonight’s party.” He wants to add how she shouldn’t have even been invited or know about the event, but that’s an issue he’ll take up with her fellow classmate later.

Korra pouts at him, lower lip jutting out halfway above her top, “Why?”

Dominic gives her an apologetic smile, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her right against his side. The action elicits a small giggle that he relishes in. “It’s a party that Chris and I are having for our friends. It’s a guy-only event.”

“You got strippers, didn’t you?” She deadpans, but it only strokes Dominic’s amusement, making him laugh. The reaction makes her confident in the assumption, but she couldn’t be farther from the truth. Korra huffs, arms folding over her chest, “I still wouldn’t be opposed to attending. That may actually give me more of a reason to go.”

“Hm?” A chestnut brow raises at her, a curious smirk pulled across his lips.

“Dom! No!” Christian snaps from the front of the group, reeling the brunette from his tainted thoughts. Dominic quickly clears his throat, dropping the look of curious excitement from his face.

“Right. Guys only. How about this!” He squeezes at Korra’s hip, his hand lowering from her waist, “you and I will go out this weekend. I’ll take you to that club you were so excited about.”

“And you’ll dance with me?”

“I will.”

“You’ll dance with me until I’m tired?”

He chuckles, leaning down to place a kiss on her temple before quietly speaking against her skin, “Until they kick us out.”

Unseen by the two of them, Christian rolls his eyes until the color vanishes behind his lids. The rumor of the two dating could easily be believed, even by him. Neither of them were willing to make things official, sticking to their claims of best friends like white on rice, but he wasn’t oblivious. Christian noticed the mornings Korra trotted into the kitchen after coming down the stairs, or the way Dominic would creep in from the pool house at the crack of dawn. Korra’s discrepancy was lacking on all sides, especially the nights the two of them got too loud.

~*~*~*~*~

Korra had decided to wait to go to her pool house until after Christian and Dominic finished getting ready. While the estate was large enough to house her along with the others who resided in it, Dominic and Christian insisted she move into the one-bedroom pool house, claiming they’d feel more comfortable if she had an escape from living with a bunch of rowdy men. Korra didn’t mind the privacy, and she was still welcomed to go into the main house whenever she pleased. “Try to behave,” she teases, fixing the collar of the turquoise button-up Dominic had on.

“As you wish,” he chuckles lightly, watching as she dotted over making sure his outfit was in perfect order. Satisfied with the way his gray, silk tie fixated around his neck and down his chest, she finally looked up at him. The amount of simple adoration spilling from his chocolate eyes made her cheeks flush before she backed away from him.

“Perfect!” He hums in agreement, but unbeknownst to Korra, he’s not thinking about himself. He’s thinking of her. How the setting sun casts a beautiful shade of gold across her skin, how her ocean eyes sparkle like rare stones, the way her smile makes him feel like he was invincible. He steps forward, wrapping a hand around the back of Korra’s head to keep her in place as his lips brush against her forehead. When he lets go, her cheeks are bright red. All she can do is avert her gaze from him and shoo him from the back deck, coaxing him to go back inside where Christian is waiting for him. Once he’s fully out of sight, she releases the breath she had been holding, an airy sigh escaping her lips. She truly wished swooning over him was more difficult, she’d give anything to care for him less. The only thing stopping her from trying to pursue more than what she already had is Christian. Him and Dominic had been best friends for as long as she could remember, and if she and Dominic didn’t work out, Korra knew it would devastate their friendship.

Upon entering the pool house, she immediately unbuttons the top of her uniform, pulling the bow loose from around her neck. Her only complaint about the high class private University she went to was their strict adherence to a uniform. Korra saunters into the kitchen, rummaging around for a snack. The cool air from the fridge causes goosebumps to spread across her exposed torso as she opens it, quickly snatching out a bottle of water and a cup of yogurt. Leaning against the counter, she reaches back and snatches a plastic spoon from a little container before digging into the cool treat, taking a minute to unwind and plan the rest of her evening. It was a school night, meaning she should study for her classes tomorrow, but her body aches in ways she refuses to acknowledge from her dance practice earlier. Tossing the empty container and spoon into the trash, she settles on relaxing in a bath for a while. To ease her tense muscles if nothing else.

A prick of fear whispers against the back of her neck the moment she steps into the bedroom, forcing her steps to falter. Korra quickly glances around her room, but nothing is amiss. Shaking the nagging suspicion of something out of ordinary, something dangerous lurking around, she collects clean clothes to change into and a towel. Any lingering uneasiness washes away the second she enters into the bathroom, and a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding escapes. “It was probably Kyoto,” she tells herself, not unfamiliar with the intimidating man skulking around, though it only does so much to settle her nerves. It seemed like his sights were so intently set on her that he could see through anything that obscured his vision of her. His dark cocoa stare was the definition of piercing.

The tub had just finished draining when a muffled bang resounded from somewhere in the distance. Dread hangs over Korra like a personal storm cloud, clinging to her form and refusing to budge. Peering out the bathroom window, she can see lights flickering on through the main house before a tall, slender form zips through the kitchen. His build is foreign, and Korra knows it’s not Kyoto or any of the other men that live in the house. Not even bothering to dry off, she tosses on the navy boy shorts and gray tank top she had grabbed prior to entering the bathroom. Still dripping water, she slides out of the tiled room and sprints to the main door that leads in and out of the pool house. Fingers just grazing the cool knob, she stops, air freezing in her lungs. The icy sensation of death dances down her spine and she knows someone is watching her. Korra is caught between turning around to face whoever broke in or ripping the door open and running. There’s a chance they’ll catch her, she knows that, but sitting and waiting to be nothing more than an empty shell on the floor seems far crueler. The chair in the corner creaks as a weight is lifted from it, and at the same moment her hand completely wraps around the door handle. There’s no sound besides her blood rushing like a current through her ears. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any prettier,” a voice coos right beside her ear, their body nearly flush against her back. Two hands land on her hips, using their grip to spin her to face them. Golden eyes gaze down at her with a deranged sense of adoration, “you go and react like that!” Unruly, midnight locks with eyes that glow like fire, fair skin, and despite his lanky build, Korra can feel his strength as his fingers continue to dig against her flesh. She’s never seen him before, but something in her gut screams that she should know who he is. And she should be fucking petrified.

Just staring up at him, Korra feels as if she’s already died, her body going stiff with rigor mortis, completely unable to move. He can see the unfamiliarity in the way she looks at him and he pouts. Really, she should know who he is. There’s no way she hadn’t heard about him. He flashes a grin that feels more malicious than it does charming, “Aspen Killium,” he greets. All color drains from Korra’s face, his name twirling through her ear drums and coiling around her heart like a snake. Christian and Dominic had warned her of him explicitly. Aspen Killium, the right-hand man for their biggest enemy. Rumored to be a serial killer, but none of his victims could even be identified or tied to him, constantly letting him off the hook. The bodies of the women he killed were always found in similar places, under a Willow tree or on the same riverbank. It never registered in her mind that the bodies were dumped under her favorite type of tree or in the same park she used to frequent, often sitting by the river to read. Korra never thought twice on how they resembled her; the same hair color, usually even the same length as hers, their similar fashion sense or even the way their dead eyes were lifeless, muted replications of her own.

Aspen had an obsession, one he was forbidden from exploring further by Rico, his gang’s figurehead. To placate himself, he found others to play her role. But they weren’t the same. They weren’t Korra. His obsession, the center of his affection. None of the girls he had taken in her place could live up to their expectations. Aspen couldn’t blame them, they weren’t her, after all. Nonetheless, he couldn’t allow them to live and risk ruining his plans to get what should be his. Their bodies had been mutilated to the point of being unrecognizable. Bones broken to shards, flesh battered and bruised, limbs stripped raw of any skin and even some muscle. Most details of his victims’ bodies were kept tight under wraps, too gruesome to reveal to the public.

His smile only grows as he watches her body come alive in the most glorious shade of dread. Body trembling, teeth chattering from the unbearable coldness nipping at her insides. Tears prick at the corner of her eyes as she feels her knees begin to buckle, legs threatening to give out under the weight of his presence. Her lower lip quivers, a strangled squeak making it out into the open before she finally manages to choke out, “y-you’re a s-s-serial killer.”

“Oh, no! Nothing so sinister, Princess.”

“She’s scared, Killium. Not stupid,” another voice scoffs out, walking in from the direction of the kitchen. Korra looks around Aspen to see another tall, suit-clad male with sandy locks and chocolate eyes. He sports a scowl that seems to perfectly compliment the way he chided Aspen.

“Hush, Sasha. You’ll ruin the game I have planned.” Aspen’s hand caresses the side of Korra’s face, applying the slightest bit of pressure to bring her attention back to him. “I don’t think of myself as a serial killer. After all, it’s not like I wanted to kill them. I didn’t even want to take them!” The madness in his stare slips into his voice, sending shockwaves of Arctic air through Korra’s veins. His hand balls under her jaw, knuckles brushing against the ridge until his hand is under her chin, gently holding it in his palm. If he wasn’t absolutely bat-shit crazy, the way his expression softened to something of genuine affection would have made her heart skip a beat. “I wanted you. I’ve always wanted you; I just wasn’t allowed to take you. But now we can be together.” Aspen hums happily, his thumb extending up to swipe across her plush lips, “you’ll finally be mine. All mine.” Flashes of the void dance in front of her before she feels every muscle in her body give out, darkness fully enveloping her as her unconscious form rushes to the floor.

~*~*~*~*~

Static vibrates through still limbs, making the groggy wake up even more excruciating. Going to move her arm in an attempt to wake it up, Korra finds it trapped at her side. Memories of what happened flood her brain and she jolts in a panic, knowing the nightmare is far from over. She looks down to find herself tied to one of the kitchen chairs. Grunting as she thrashes against the restraints, Aspen is alerted to her revival. “Oh, goodie!~” His voice is a pleasant chirp that only makes Korra’s muscles pull taunt as her skin desperately tries to crawl away. “No need to worry, we’re alone now.” He saunters over to her with his hands clasped behind his back, but his jovial mood seems to drop as she once again begins to fight the restraints in a desperate, pitiful attempt to escape. His expression darkens, jaw clenching as his teeth grind together. “Princess, Princess, I don’t appreciate you being so bratty.” The sneer his words bring quickly fades as Korra watches him inspect a gun he had been hiding behind his back. Watching the fight drain from rebellious orbs brings a surge of excitement through him, a smirk forming to replace that of his disappointment. The barrel raises until it’s in perfect line with her skull, and all she can do is watch as his finger falls from along the side of the gun to curl around the trigger. Her eyes snap shut moments before a deafening bang rings out. A tinge of rust forms in her throat at the piercing scream she releases. Aside from the white-hot fire in her lungs, she doesn’t register any other sensation. No pain, no crimson seeping from any open wounds. Mustering enough courage, she squints, only to find Aspen’s face directly in front of hers, the gun now lingering right below her chin. “Aren’t you happy I didn’t shoot you?”

Korra isn’t sure how it happens, but she manages to sputter out a breathless, “yes.”

“Then prove it.” The cold metal of the weapon presses firm against her, forcing her head to lift until her lips are in direct line with his. She knows what he wants, and the likelihood of him pulling the trigger if she refuses. Swallowing every ounce of pride she has, Korra tentatively presses her lips to his, keeping her eyes open the entire time. It’s a short-lived moment as she breaks away from him as soon as he begins to reciprocate. “Let’s play a game.”

“A game?” Korra questions in a whisper so low a breeze could carry it away.

“Consider it more of a deal!” Aspen swaggers over to the couch, setting the gun on the glass table pressed against the backboard of the seat. He promptly returns in front of his obsession, summoning his phone from the pocket of his maroon slacks. “You admit you want me, and I’ll have Sasha release your friends unharmed. Well,” he giggles as his head cants to the side, “not harmed any further.” There’s no point in asking what happens if she doesn’t, the silence he lets hang in the air is an answer enough to the unspoken half of his demented game.

The words roll off her tongue with less effort than she’d like, but she can’t pass on an easy escape. Especially if Christian and Dominic’s safety rests on her participation in this twisted contest. “I want you.” His brows raise, but she can see the disbelief in the way his face contours. “I want you, Aspen,” she repeats, this time with a whinier husk as she leans her face closer to his. It’s a risk, playing into his distorted sense of reality, but Korra knows she can pull it off. She’s had to fake interest one too many times to have not mastered the skill. He leans closer, his lips ghosting over her, making her whimper as she tries to close the gap, but the restraints keep her from doing so.

“Aspen, please,” the use of carefully pitched, nearly pained impatience pushes him over the edge. Both of his hands cup her jaw on either side before his lips meet hers in a heated mess of faux passion. Her lips move against his effortlessly, keeping up with his hungry pace. Darting her tongue out, she swipes it across his bottom lip, asking for entrance. It takes everything in her to fight back the bile stinging at her throat, but she repeats a mantra of ‘I can do this’ in her head. He parts his lips with a soft groan, letting her tongue invade his mouth. The sensation of her slick muscle running against his makes her body tense with a suppressed cringe, but she softly moans into his mouth to cover the disgust as pleasure. Aspen breaks away first, a string of saliva the only thing connecting the two of them. His mouth moves to Korra’s neck, kissing from her jaw down to the soft spot at the base. As lithe fingers work to undo her bindings, his teeth dig into her flesh as his tongue laves over the mark he sucked into her. Once the rope is gone, his hands move to slip under her thighs and she instinctively wraps her arms around his neck just as he lifts her off the chair. Their lips meet in a fury of battling tongues and clashing teeth, only breaking apart when he sits down on the couch with her on his lap. Without any guidance from him, she grinds her hips down against him, feeling his hardness press against her thinly clothed center. She kisses him again before trailing over his jaw and down the column of his throat. Aspen groans at the feeling, his hands coming around to grab and knead at the flesh of her ass. He uses his intense grip to grind her against him, unsatisfied with her feather-light touch, “fuck, you feel so good. I need more!” A red-light flashes in her mind like a warning signal not to proceed any further. She needs to convince him of her devotion, but the idea of him fucking her? Her stomach tightens as her gut wretches at the thought.

Korra’s hands fly to his chest just as he starts fiddling with the buckle on his pants, “Aspen, I,” she breaks eye contact with him, worrying at her lower lip as she feign innocence. “I haven’t gone all the way before. I-I’m nervous.”

“Oh, Princess,” he coos, nuzzling into her neck in an attempt to be comforting. “That’s okay. We won’t go all the way. Not in the first round.” With his face buried in her neck, he misses the way her nostrils flare and upper lip curls back in loathing. Shaking off the thought of having to go past whatever limit he has set in his mind, she nods her head in agreement. Aspen takes her hands in his, guiding them down to the hem of his pants. She takes the hint, undoing the button and zipper for him. She sits higher on her knees, allowing him room to slip his trousers off. Giving an experimental roll of her hips, she almost relishes in the sensation having less restriction brings.

Aspen palms one of her breasts through her tank top, his thumb rubbing in circles over her nipple until he feels it pebble under his touch. He yanks the thin straps down her arms, encouraging her to pull them out so he can roll the top down just enough to expose the two globes of flesh. His hands press them together, jiggling them with a thumb pressed against the underside before giving a throaty growl and diving forward. With his mouth wrapped around one nipple, tongue flicking over and rolling around the hardened bud, his fingers mimic the motion on the other. Korra’s head cocks to the side as she moans, hands grabbing at his shirt as she thrusts her hips against him. She can feel the dampness in her panties grow, slowly beginning to coat her crotch, fixing the fabric to her sticky skin. The cotton of her bottoms creates a wonderful textured rub against her throbbing clit, but it’s just not enough.

“Aspen,” his name comes out in the combination of a mewl and a whine, begging him for more.

“You’re such a good girl,” he purrs after pulling away from her breast with a slick pop. His hands hold her hips like a vice, slowing her desperate hip rolls to nothing. He tilts his head back, looking straight into her soul. He’s rock hard and can see the anguish in the way she looks down at him with a longing she won’t announce. “You have to tell me what you want, Princess.”

Korra groans out, trying to force her throbbing cunt back down to grind against him, but the effort is futile. If she’s going to have to participate, she’s at least going to get something out of it, even if it means begging. “Please!”

A slap to her ass makes her jump, the sting left behind far less intense than she’s used to, but the unexpectedness of it caught her off guard. Aspen tuts at her, shaking his head with a mocking smirk, “you have to tell me exactly what you want.”

“I want to cum,” she blurts out, voice acidic. She’d forgotten the truth of her situation, mistaking the prolific killer for a casual hookup. The tonal shift re-awakens that darkness in him, and Korra quickly finds herself with a hand wrapped tight around her throat.

“What was that?” The question is a hiss, dripping with malice and a tightening threat against her windpipe.

“I want you to make me cum! Please,” she whimpers as her vision begins to darken, but he finally releases her of the strangle.

A lowly chuckle rumbles from the back of his throat, “that’s a good girl.” The hand that had been latched to her neck quickly winds into her hair as the other slaps against her inner thigh, “stand up.” She obeys, ignoring the sting along her scalp that accompanies her movements. He gestures to the underwear she has on, “take them off.”

“But I thought -“

“Don’t you worry, Princess. I won’t fuck you yet.” He brings his face close to hers, veering off to the side at the last moment to brush his lips against her ear, “I just want to see your pussy.” Aspen’s tongue flicks along the rim of her ear, sending a bolt of static across her vertebra. With much reluctance, she obliges his command. The instant her panties hit the floor, she’s yanked into his lap where he slowly thrusts up against her. The silk material of his boxers catches against her clit, eliciting an involuntary moan. The sound alone nearly makes Aspen shudder. His patience is running thin, he wants nothing more than to feel her against him and he knows just how to get what he wants. Making sure his cock is pressed perfectly against her buzzing bundle of nerves, he thrusts harder with long, consistent strokes. Korra’s moans fill in the silence as he savors how ethereal she looks above him, lust hazing her beautiful optics as bliss forces her brows to furrow. He stops his movements as she’s on the cusp of orgasm and her head smacks against his shoulder with a tormented cry. “I need to feel you against me,” he whines, quickly slipping his boxers just low enough to free himself. The arousal dripping from her slicks his dick and makes it even easier for him to rut against her. She can feel every vein and ridge that makes up his length, and with every buck the head of his cock knocks against her clit.

“Oh, fuck,” her head lulls back, unable to ignore the heat pulsing through her veins or the pleasure stacking in her lower stomach. Aspen moans, his head coming to rest against her shoulder as his arms wrap around her waist.

“Princess, oh fuck, you feel so good. I want you so bad, I don’t want anyone else to have you.” His teeth drag from her shoulder, down, and across her collarbone. “You’re mine. Anyone who tries to take you from me is dead,” a whimper rolls off his tongue as he bucks against her relentlessly. “You’re mine. Mine, mine, mine!” His possessiveness reignites the fear that had been lying dormant, but quickly ebbs away as she feels the coil in her core tighten to a threatening level. “Shit. Cum with me, Princess. Cum on my cock. Let me know who made you feel this good.”

“Aspen!” She cries out with a keenness as her body jolts against him, her orgasm hitting fast and hard. Her compliance completes the goal she’d hoped for. A few thrusts later and he follows suit, coming undone and spilling his load against his stomach.

There’s a few minutes of silence as they both come down, but there’s no basking in the afterglow. Not for Korra. Added bonus of an orgasm or not, this is a lifesaving performance. “Love,” it comes out as a breathless whisper laced with a plea. She pulls back just enough to be able to see eye to eye with him. “Send the text for them to be let go, and we can get out of here.” As the words register, his brows knit together, and he wordlessly stares at her; incredulously observing her expression. The strawberry blonde frowns, pressing her chest firmly against his as her arms drape over his shoulders, the insides of her elbows pressed against his neck. “You’re going to take me with you, right?” The pout she wears is sickening, so full of helpless distraught it nearly makes him hard again. Her face cradles into the crook of his neck, “I want to be with you, Aspen. Don’t tell me you’re going to leave me behind with them.” The words leave a bitter sting along her tongue, but Aspen can practically taste her sincerity.

“Of course, I will!” He hastily grabs his phone from off the couch, first having to rummage through the pocket of his pants to find it. When he finishes sending Sasha the text to release her brother and Dominic, he patiently stares at the screen. He awaits confirmation and the moment he gets it a saccharine smile is bestowed upon him. His heart skips a beat, watching her face come to life in a mix of relief and joy. He never expected her to be so elated over leaving with him. He never expected her to return his love so willingly. He was sure he’d have to train her, teach her just why she should be with him. Show her all the reasons they’d be perfect together. He wraps both arms around her waist, pulling her against him in a tight embrace. His forehead rests against her chin, a smile plastered to his face as he whispers with uncharted devotion how much he loves her. He can feel Korra smile against him as she fiddles with the back of the couch.

“I love you too,” she kisss his forehead as one hand moves to fiddle with the inky strands against the back of his neck. “But you know, they say you should be careful with who you love.”

He hums, closing his eyes as he enjoys their first talk as a couple and the sensation of nails massaging his scalp, “why’s that?”

“You never know who the other person really is.” Before he can question any further, the metal of his gun is pressed against the side of his skull before she pulls the trigger without so much as batting a lash over the decision. His blood splatters across her face, earning a sneer of revolt in return. She jumps off his lap, pulling her shirt up while swiping her soiled panties off the floor. She changes into a pair of cotton shorts before throwing a ratty towel over Aspen’s lifeless body, certain neither men will want to see how exposed he is. Korra sits in the chair that lingers in the corner, just under the window, allowing the soft light of the moon to kiss her crimson-stained flesh. After the killer's body is properly disposed of, there’s a long conversation to be had between Korra, her brother, and Dominic.

#writing #one piece #story writing #short story #oneshot #original post #original character #new adult #adult work #mafia au #dark romance #character death

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etherealwriting62 · 1 month

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The pair had been a fan of each other for quite some time, though neither fully knew it. Eden, a cam girl, had followed Ambrose’s basketball career for years. Ambrose, the professional athlete, had been Eden’s biggest fan ever since he came across her page. Neither expected they’d get to meet, until a chance encounter brought them together.

Word count: 2.3k

Content contains: mutual masturbation, online sex, use of sex toys.

The Exchange

He recognized her immediately, how could he not? She had become part of his routine at this point, always eagerly waiting for the notification to come across his screen that Eden had gone live. Admittedly, Ambrose did not see the appeal in Cam Girls, the idea of paying someone he didn’t know to see them naked unappealing to him. Until his best friend pulled up her account one day. Immediately, she had Ambrose’s attention. Cole had brought up her live stream that happened to be going on while showing Ambrose her profile, settling on letting him watch some to ‘get an idea of what he’s missing out on.’ Her personality was addictive and she was divine to look at. Friendly, personable, alluring, and Ambrose knew he was hooked.

He was a regular to her streams and posts, always interacting with simple compliments and comforting praise of Eden’s content. He was not blind to the fact she is human and deserved respect, the fact she made money from selling pictures and videos of her masturbating or posing nude did not mean she was a simple piece of meat. Ambrose expected nothing from her, more than content with whatever she was willing to provide. He would never demand more, she owed him nothing. Of course, she always provided him with extra in show of appreciation.

She had no idea who he was other than his screen name, never posting a picture of himself or doing anything to give away his identity. “AMGoldenBoy” was a favorite fan of Edens, sending gifts practically weekly. More often than not, it was more than one thing at a time, too. She would always send him a thank you message, offering to gift him anything he’d like in return. She’d happily humor any request he gave, so long it was within her limits. He always denied, stating he did not need her to do such a thing. He was more than happy to send her the gifts, and knowing she would get enjoyment from them was enough for him. He never wanted her to get the impression he was trying to bribe her for free content. Eden never viewed their exchanges as ‘free,’ he paid for it with the gifts. Naturally, she would send him pictures and videos of her with whatever he purchased, at least allowing him to see her use it or wear it before anyone else did.

One thing he never expected to happen, though, was this. To see her no more than ten feet away, bounding down the steps of the gym to come sprinting across the wooden floor. As if seeing her in person is not enough to make his heart seize, seeing her with his jersey on certainly is. But she doesn't approach Ambrose, she runs straight for a member of the opposing team. Her arms wrap around Kline’s middle just as his arms envelope her shoulders. Both of their faces are alight with excitement and pure joy, though Kline’s expression falters to a scowl when he catches Eden in the other team’s colors.

“Aw, c’mon! I thought you were here to cheer me on!” Kline whines, narrowed gaze focused on the number pasted on the front of her jersey.

The brunette woman giggles, playfully smacking his arm, “I was here to cheer for you, but it’s a Trojan’s game, too!” The smile she wears is almost prideful as she tugs at the red fabric, “you know there’s no way I’m not going to rep them!”

“I’m with Kline,” Elijah slings an arm around the spiker, staring Eden down with a teasing smirk, “Golden boy has enough supporters. Should be a crime to see you on the side of the losin’ team.” The nickname he refers to Ambrose with makes her heart skip a beat, immediately thinking of the wonderful admirer she had gained through her online work. But she breezes over it, preferring not to dig into that portion of her life while enjoying her time off. It’s easier to keep the Cam Girl world divided from everyday life.

“Not much of a losing team if they have me on their side,” she cheekily retorts, deciding not to dwell over the sneaking suspicion nagging at the back of her brain. “Besides, you know I’ve followed Ambrose since college.” Elijah and Kline snicker out their acceptance of her response, knowing full well the four of them had attended the same school. The three males were all on the University’s volleyball team, but only Elijah and Kline were friends with Eden.

“Give me a few minutes to clean up and I’ll be back!” Kline sprints off towards the locker room, Elijah not far behind the other Great Shark. Eden knew the two of them would want to spend extra time with her after the game, eager to catch up. Normally, she would meet with the pair once a week to talk. Eden had known Kline since high school and met Elijah when she and Kline were in college. Watching Ambrose play on her school’s team is what made her such a super fan of the man. Due to her closeness to the two Sharks, Eden had become a friend of the entire team, though she didn’t get too close with anyone. One of their blockers, Wesson, was another player she frequently spoke with, the two of them feeding off the others playful energy and creating animated conversations that encouraged even some of the more reserved players to join in. She had been the volleyball team’s hype-man since her High school years, even having become a manager for the team. She ended her hand in the sport after graduating, too focused on her education to dedicate as much time to a sport.

Eden wanders out into the main hall of the stadium, all of the vendor stations packed up and concessions closed. She doesn’t mind the silence of it all, opting to stroll around in effort to pass time. Without a bustling crowd and merchandise cluttering the path, it is easy to get absorbed by how large and spacious everything truly is. Her mindless ogling comes to a halt when she bumps into something solid, the impact forcing her to stumble back.

Ambrose turns around, phone in hand, and looks down at her. Instinctively, her body freezes, face burning with embarrassment from having literally walked into her crush. She knows his stats, she’s seen his size every time she’s watched a game, but being directly in front of him is like standing in front of a mountain. His eyes especially steal her attention, chocolate brown with speckles of caramel. “I- I’m so sorry! I should have been paying attention.” He says nothing in return, taking a moment to drink in her appearance from up close. She’s just as beautiful in person as she is on camera, maybe more so now that she’s right in front of him. Her mocha curls fall just below her shoulders, amber eyes something closer to that of melted gold, and a beautiful complexion to bring it all home.

His focus shifts to the jersey she wears, “would you like me to sign it?”

The vibrato of his voice alone nearly makes her head roll back, completely taken by the deep bass. Snapping back to reality, her eyes widening as she struggles to summon her voice, “really? You, um, you wouldn’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t offer it if I did.” Nodding, she spins around to present the back of the jersey to him. Ambrose takes a moment to read over his name printed across her shoulder blades, fighting back a triumphant smirk. Of all the players she could choose to support, she picked him. A shiver trails up her spine when his large hand splays across the small of her back, using the leverage to keep the fabric still as he signs his name. Blood rushes to her cheeks once again, unable to ignore the heat radiating from his body or the way she can just barely feel his breath graze the back of her neck. Eden glances up, hoping to find something to focus on in effort to push down her nervous excitement. Scarlet shades her face as Kline and Elijah round the corner, Kline’s gray orbs nearly bugging from his skull. Elijah just smirks, wiggling his eyebrows at her teasingly. “Thank you!” Squeaks out of her throat the moment Ambrose’s marker clicks shut.

“Yeah, no problem,” he watches as the two opposing teammates grin before Elijah hollers for Eden to hurry up. She thanks Ambrose one more time, turning her head just enough for him to catch the blush adorning her cheeks before darting off to greet the two men waiting for her.

~*~*~*~*~

Ambrose had just sat down by the time the notification came across his screen, water droplets still trickling down his neck and chest from his hair. He’s hesitant, almost convincing himself to ignore the request as his eyes rove over the message multiple times. Eden had requested a private video chat with him, if he was interested. Naturally, he is more than interested in the offer, but the idea of giving away his anonymity keeps his finger hovering above the call button. With a soft sigh, he gives in to his needier desires, accepting the offer and joining a private chat with the woman he admires.

Both screens are dark, but her voice filters out first. “GoldenBoy, I got the gift you sent.” He grunts, not willing to give himself up so easily. Of course, that was Eden’s goal. She wants him to speak, confirm if her assumption of who sits on the opposite side of the screen is correct, but he won’t budge easily. “I got you something in return, if you’d like to see it.”

He bites his tongue, carefully weighing the decision in his mind. He remembers vividly how she reacted to him earlier, blushing and the slightest bit bashful. How she shivered under his touch. “I would.”

A smile breaks across her face, it is him! She switches on her camera, giving Ambrose a full view of herself. Legs spread over the arm rests of her chair, ass dangling just off the edge. His jersey and a pair of red, lace panties. The panties being the most recent item from her wishlist he was kind enough to purchase. She pulls the fabric to the side, exposing a small, white bullet vibrator attached to her clit. Juices seep from her, spilling down her asscheeks where he finds a gold plug in between the two mounds. Ambrose groans at the sight, her prominent arousal mixed with the clear display of his team colors, his colors, embroidered upon her beautiful skin quickly making his dick twitch with excitement. “I thought I should properly thank you for the autograph.”

Ambrose watches in silence as she turns the bullet back on, the vibrations from the tiny machine strong enough for him to hear through his laptop speakers. Her hips grind down at the sensation, a moan tearing from her throat. Her clit is already so sensitive, having edged herself three times before mustering up the courage to send him a message to video chat. He watches as her pussy contracts around nothing, eager to be stuffed full. With haste, she crams two fingers into her awaiting hole, chin dropping to her chest from the pressure building in her core. “I wish my fingers were your cock,” she admits, too drunk off her own bliss to register the omission. The sound of his breathing picking up, soft pants, and rumbling groans make her shudder, “turn on your camera. Please, Ambrose. I want to see you.” His picture floods her screen no more than a few seconds later, face flushed, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. The visual of him fucked out, the sounds of his pleasure mixed with the way Eden can hear him sloppily, aggressively stroking himself only makes the heat in her body turn to a scorch that is felt in every muscle fiber. “Oh, fuck,” she curses under her breath, enthralled with how he looks so euphoric just from watching her fuck herself.

Slender fingers find that spot inside that makes her toes curl and back straighten, mouth falling open to release a long whine. “Ambrose, please. Please, I want to watch you, too.”

The velvety smooth voice he’d only ever dreamed of hearing desperately call his name makes him groan, adjusting his laptop to allow her to watch as he jerks himself off. He has no way to deny her, trapped in a fantasy come true. Finally setting sight on him encourages her to wiggle another finger inside her pulsing walls. Three of her fingers are no match to the girth he holds, but she’s too worked up to even consider dragging this out to make anything else fit.

Eagle eyes catch the way her thighs begin to tremble, the way she whimpers and mewls as she slips her digits into her wet heat as fast as she can. He wants it to be him filling her, he would stretch her so much better than those tiny fingers. But he is more eager to watch her orgasm for him, hear his name fall from her as she reaches her climax. “Cum for me, Princess. I want to see you make a mess of yourself.”

It takes no more than a few more pumps before her walls clamp down, legs spasming as muscles convulse from the intensity. His name tastes sweet on her tongue, like a reward for something she’s not quite sure of, but too happy about to refuse. Eden barely comes down from her high when Ambrose finishes with a booming moan, covering his toned stomach in his emission. The sight is enough to pull another soft croon from her, desperately wishing she were there to lick the mess off him. As if reading her mind, Ambrose lets out a soft chuckle, “we may have to try this in person next time.”

#writing #one piece #oneshot #short story #new adult #adult work #writers on tumblr #story writing #original character #original post

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etherealwriting62 · 1 month

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Roman made sure to shower Amaya with anything she ever desired, even if she didn’t specifically ask for it. Amaya had never wanted to ask for more than Roman seemed interested in giving, until she decided to change that. After nearly a year-long arrangement, she was tired of not getting any sugar from the man leading with the title “sugar daddy.”

Word count: 2.9k

Content contains: semi-public sex, car sex, minor exhibition.

Luxury Treatment

A fancy dinner complete with the finest wine and her favorite dessert. An elegant dress that showed off every asset and curve without giving too much away. A tailored suit; an off white button up, and a navy blue jacket with matching slacks. The picture of class, pristine and proper. Roman never failed to make Amaya feel like a Queen, gifted with the company of a man carved from stone. His expressions were few and far between, but everything was clear through his olive orbs.

Amaya’s company was one of his favorite things, right alongside that of his professional basketball career. Discretion had been completely disregarded from the moment of their first meeting. He felt no pressure to hide Amaya, and she was equally comfortable being seen with him. Rumors were quelled quickly, Roman never one to tell anything less than the blunt truth. They were friends, close friends that enjoyed extravagant meals and occasional trips together. There was no sex life to unwrap and reveal, strictly professional. It never stopped the paparazzi from trying, though. The drama-hungry reporters eagerly awaited for either to slip, to expose the relationship as something deeper or possibly even more monetary driven, but nothing of substance ever materialized.

Every article written with these speculations had no solid backing, enough to where the majority of the population seemed completely unconvinced with the salacious rumors. There were no pictures or videos of the two of them doing anything explicit, not even a single image of the couple sharing a kiss. The most damning public display had been Roman grabbing Amaya’s hand, but that was to guide her out of a swarm after one of his games.

Nearly eight months of dates and adventures and Roman never once tried to force the topic of sex. While Amaya was grateful for his impeccable mannerisms, it was quickly becoming something that was eating away at the woman. To say he was attractive would be an understatement; Roman was gorgeous. Forged from marble and fire, sculpted by the hands of the gods. The embodiment of what any omnipotent being would worship with care. His personality had a tendency to run most others off, coming across as blunt, emotionless, and even rude to some. Roman was not blessed with the ability to sugarcoat anything, his tongue answering to nothing but the blatant truth. He never meant for anything he said to be considered offensive, immediately apologizing after saying something one found unpalatable. But they would blow his sincerity off, his flat tone mistaken as ingenuine.

Amaya’s fingers thrummed against her thigh as she stared out the window, watching the world move around her. “Ro,” his name fell from her lips quietly, almost as if it was not meant to be spoken aloud. He heard her, nonetheless, and made a soft hum in acknowledgement of being called. The rest of what she had to say, a thought meant to go unspoken, manifested before her better judgment and tumbled out with the same soft grace his name had moments ago, “am I not attractive to you?” It was the first time since exiting the restaurant that Roman took his eyes off the road, passing a glance towards her with brows creased. Reality creeped across her cheeks in a soft tint of pink, knowing the thought had audibly left the inner workings of her mind. It was too late to backtrack, though, and she knew he would much rather her be open and honest with him. “We’ve been doing this for almost a year now and you,” she looked at her lap, the heat in her cheeks unbearable, “you’ve never tried to initiate anything …. intimate.”

“I find you extremely attractive, you are quite beautiful.” His blatant honesty did nothing to simmer the scorching sensation flooding her face and creeping down her neck. “We never discussed anything sexual, I didn’t want to assume anything. I also didn’t wish to make you uncomfortable by bringing up the subject.” He was correct, none of their conversations had ever even hinted in the direction of sexual favors. From the first message it had been all about what she was comfortable with, and Roman never gave any specific stipulations to their arrangement. The only thing he asked was that if she became involved with another public figure, in any capacity, to alert him. He had no qualms against her doing so, it was just his way of ensuring nothing snowballed with the vultures of the press.

Still keeping her attention to the silk dress that hugged her thighs, Amaya responded with an honest, “I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“You do not have to, if you don’t want to. Your company has been more than enough to satisfy me.” His straight lipped expression faltered, mouth tugging down at the corners ever so slightly, “I don’t want you to think you have to as a method of repayment.”

Roman was the reason Amaya was able to go back to college and finish her degree after spending a year scrounging and scraping by in effort to do so. He was the reason she was able to afford a new car after hers finally gave in to the many years of abuse and ungodly amount of miles put on it. He was the reason she was able to afford a relatively upscale apartment in her favorite area. She had grown to accept that his money was not the only reason she appreciated him, though. While the financial stability was a blessing Amaya would never overlook, Roman had been an amazing companion. Breakdowns over classes and testing were greeted with him coming to help her study, even if he did not understand the material himself. If he found himself utterly clueless on a subject, he would instead comfort her. Ensure she had her favorite snacks and water while he rubbed soothing hands over her back or shoulders to ease any building tension. He had even gone as far to contact friends of his who had more experience on the topics at hand, asking them to assist the girl when he could not.

Stress of balancing her work and regular life were met by Roman sending her tiny affirmations of Amaya’s dedication and hard work, encouraging her to keep pushing.

When she missed two weeks of work due to a gruesome cold, Roman sent Amaya her regular wage she would make from her job on top of the allowance he gave weekly. He refused to accept the extra money back, stating he did not mind doing it if it meant she would not have to fret over covering bills.

He picked up on her diet quickly, always ensuring any restaurant he chose for the two of them had a fair selection of meals she would be able to enjoy.

In turn, Amaya was just as kind to him. Lost games were remedied with his favorite home-cooked meal and innocent cuddles, her fingers brushing through his hair as she whispered endless praise of his skill as a player. Nearly every game she attended, cheering him on from within the crowd. Those she could not make were made up for with a video call before and after the game, wishing him luck and then gushing over his playing she had watched on her television or laptop. She never missed a game, even if she could not physically be there.

Few days he felt drained, usually always in peak condition and ready to keep pushing forward. But the days all his religious training finally stacked up and left him feeling weak and unmotivated, Amaya was there to bring him back to life. She would offer to accompany him on a jog, even if she hated it or couldn’t bear the idea of doing any physical activity that day.

In the near year she had known him, Roman had built a special place for himself in her life and heart. He truly had become her closest friend, someone she relied on and talked to daily about anything and everything. The comfort she felt around him was endless, and to say she had no fantasies about him outside of just a platonic arrangement would be a grave lie.

“I know,” she finally looked at him, staring at his side profile as he pulled into the parking garage of his apartment complex. “But I want to.”

His hands tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles sheet white and body rigid, making her wonder if she made a mistake confessing to him. Silence filled the car, tension blanketing the two as neither attempted to so much as breathe too hard. Roman swallowed, the sound near deafening following the intense soundless environment, “are you sure? I don’t want you to if you don’t mean it.” He finally turned to look at her, expression hauntingly serious, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

The simple idea that he could be rough enough to bruise her skin and leave a mark of his claim on her was enough to make her thighs squeeze together, “I wouldn’t mind it even if you did.”

Everything unfolded in a frenzy from that point. His hand wrapped around the back of her head, quickly guiding her forward until their lips collided. The simple connection made Amaya moan against him, hands fisting at the dress shirt that hugged his muscular chest with perfect tailoring. Their mouth’s slotted together perfectly, meeting in a fury of heated kisses that had been repressed for months. The anticipation in her was rapidly building, the first sparks of a fire igniting the moment his tongue swiped across her bottom lip. Her plush lips granted him immediate access, her tongue quickly meeting his. There was no fight for dominance, even if he could easily overpower her. The way their slick muscles twirled around each other was equivalent to a practiced dance, tantalizing and alluring.

His hand slipped to the back of her neck, pulling Amaya closer to him. When she shifted in the seat, she could feel the slick between her thighs dampening her panties. Had she been so consumed with desire for Roman that simply making out with him had her coming undone so easily?

Her hands traced down his chest and stomach, fingers glossing against the leather of his belt. His own hands trailed over hers, making quick work to undo the buckle. She took over for him, nimble fingers undoing the belt while he adjusted his chair back and away from the wheel as much as possible. He raised his hips, allowing her to work his pants and boxers off with ease.

Amaya’s breath caught in her throat as his cock slapped against his stomach. In every fantasy, she had endowed Roman with something sizable, but she never expected this. The sight of his length, his girth, was absolutely sinful. Mouth watering. He chuckled lowly at her ogling, an uncharacteristically pleased grin spread across his face. He reached over, pinching her chin between his thumb and index finger, “drink this cock, pretty girl.”

The command made her pussy flutter, eager to lean over and obey his order. He groaned quietly as her tongue swept against the underside of his erection, kitten licks from base to tip. She immediately became addicted to teasing him, testing just how much noise she could drag from the depths of his chest. Sucking the tip into her mouth, she hollowed her cheeks, roughly sucking on the sensitive head as her tongue rolled around it in circles. “Fuck,” he muttered under his quickening breath, one hand gripping into her hair as his other pulled up his shirt to get a better view of her sucking him off. She could fit less than half of him down her throat, but Roman did not mind, more than enthralled with the way she gagged and sputtered around him. A soft growl vibrated in the depth of his throat before he pulled her off him, immediately missing the sensation of her wet cavern curled around him. Amaya raised her upper body with his guidance, mouth hung open with spit trailing down her chin, gasping for air. The awkwardness of the position was no matter for Roman, grabbing her by the waist to lift her before pulling her to straddle his lap. His mouth sought out her neck, blazing a trail of hot kisses and teasing nips across the flesh as her clothed cunt ground down against his iron hard rod.

He rutted against her, eliciting meek gasps at the way he ran his length across her clit. The stimulation was hazing, her eyes fogged over with lust. Any composure was lost when he sucked a bruise into the sweet spot of her neck, the surge of carnal desire pushing her patience to the side. “Roman, fuck me. Please fuck me!”

He snickered silently, moving her panties to the side and teasing her dripping folds with his bulbous tip, “is this what you want?”

“Yes! Yes, please!”

“Brace yourself, darling.” She didn’t have a second to consider his warning before he thrusted up into her, spearing her on his cock. Velvet walls struggled to stretch to accommodate such a large intrusion, strained from the unfamiliar sting of his size. The sensation of her tight heat wrapped around him like a vice made Roman’s head fall back against the headrest of the seat, a soft pant escaping him as he tried to hold back from fucking up into her before she was ready. He’s dreamed of this moment with equal pent-up energy to Amaya, having thought this to only be possible in the inner workings of his mind. Clutching at his shoulders, tears pricked Amaya’s eyes, utterly overwhelmed by the pressure filling her. It hurt in the most delicious way and she could not stop from slowly dragging herself off him before slamming back down. The one bounce alone had her seeing stars, head swimming with a mix of pain and pleasure she wasn’t sure she could get enough of. Roman gave an experimental thrust, watching carefully as her eyes rolled and lips parted in a breathy moan. “You’re going to take my cock so well,” his large hands dug into the meat of her ass, kneading the soft mounds with his fingers, as he helped to bounce her body in tune with his own thrusts. Having sex with Roman in his car was not how Amaya envisioned their first time together unfolding, but had she known it would feel like the physical embodiment of pure bliss, she would have let him bend her over the restaurant table.

Steam from their combined exerted panting fogged the tinted windows of the car, making the already nearly impenetrable glass even harder to see through. She could feel the car rock with every power thrust from the man beneath her, the cries of her moans and euphoric wails could undoubtedly be heard by anyone nearby. But the knot in her stomach twisted tighter, her toes curled, muscles contracted, making any logical sense to worry about being caught fade from existence. All she cared about was the drag of Roman’s cock through her hot, gummy walls.

Roman was no quieter, animalistic groans and growls pulled from him every time he sheathed himself back inside her awaiting hole. He would always be accepting of her limits, but the desire to feel her wrapped around him had been there since the first meeting they had.

Amaya was beautiful to him, inside and out. And while he knew he was only meant to be a sugar daddy, he couldn’t deny that this was the most sincere relationship he has held. Others used him for his money or status as a professional athlete, but none were willing to give anything back to him. Amaya poured her heart and soul into him, into making him know how appreciative she was of his help and how she genuinely cared for him. Seeing her fucked out because of him, pupils blown wide with lust, tears dotted along her lashes, he swore he’d never seen something so divine.

“R-Ro!” He comes down from his euphoric reverie, catching her staring doe-eyed out the driver window. Someone stood no more than ten feet away from Roman’s parked vehicle, a curious tilt to their head as they eyed the suddenly still car. Roman’s arms wrapped around her waist, securing Amaya in place before fucking into her with reckless abandon. Her attention never faltered from the bystander, but Roman felt the way she tightened around him when the stranger gave a knowing smirk.

“Never expected you to be such a slut,” he teased, voice an octave deeper than normal. “You enjoy knowing people can find you like this? Your pussy stuffed full with my cock.” She whined in response, needy and on edge as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. The pulsing of her sex around him was enough of a cue to how close she was. Eager to send the two of them into orbital pleasure, he lost any sense of restraint. The way she constricted around him, the feeling of him battering her insides raw, it was too much. Amaya finished with a cry of his name, biting into the shoulder of his jacket at the same time he released ropes of white into her.

Neither of them spoke, panting and working down from their highs. When Roman chuckled, Amaya found herself giggling in turn. “I did not expect this to happen.”

“Regretting it already?”

“I never will.”

She smiled against the thick, blue fabric of his jacket, “even though someone saw us?”

“Especially because someone saw us,” he teased, placing a kiss to the crown of her head.

#writing #adult work #original fiction #story writing #short story #romance #lovers #new adult #writers on tumblr

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