#(I will lapse in and out for being. a fucking. mess.
Text
Every time I see fictional enactments of people having mental breakdowns I’m like. ‘Is it not normal to do that like three times a week’. I’m going to have. Such major heart problems. My whole life. I just know it.
The swinging between hysterical, sad and mad? The eyes wide rolling around in my damn skull? The struggle to breathe and not choke on your own spit? The sensation that you might just lash out at anyone or anything that gets too close? The existential hysteria questioning YOUR VERY EXISTENCE AND THE EXISTENCE OF CAUSALITY AND WHY THINGS ARE THE WAY THEY ARE AND COULD THEY NOT BE AND COULD SOMEONE JUST TAKE ME AWAY TAKE ME AWAY.
It’s that last part especially. When you start getting. So. In your god damn feels. YOURE BEGGING THE UNIVERSE FOR REPRIEVE ON REPEAT AS YOU SWAY BACK N FORTH LIKE YOURE HAVING THE WORST TRIP IMAGINABLE TRYING TO CONTACT GOD. HELP ME. HELP ME. HELP ME. HELP ME. KILL ME. RUN OVER MY HEAD. NEVER WAKE ME. SEND ME TO HELL ILL PAY FOR MY SINS NOW PLEASE PLEEAASSE ANYTHING BUT A MOMENTS MORE OF TORMENT. that kinda. Shit.
Every day people look at me and tell me I’m fine. I’m smart I’m practical I’m insightful I’m hanging on I’m resourceful I seem GREAT. Hell. My problems aren’t even that bad from their perspective (and maybe they’re right!)
I want to kill them every time and maybe one day I’ll smack someone across the face. Maybe break my knuckles smashing their nose into their brain. I think. I deserve it.
ANYWAY. had another lapse of mental angst because I cannot prioritize without a helper and that means I’m drowning in an infinitely vast array priorities, and should I spare one even a second of my attention, my anxiety comes running at me with a machete to ritually slaughter me for thinking for a second THAT was my highest priority.
I just want. To live. But I cannot. Because my brain doesn’t know what’s important. Except for. Being In a Domestic Cow Like State of UNTHINKING. and it makes me wanna explode my surroundings with my mind.
I’m getting a headache from being stuck in executive dysfunction too long and I donttt liikkeee iittttt.
LIKE. I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE HAVIN A GOOD ONE. I was supposed to be feelin a GOOD EMOTION SPARKED. INSPIRATION. INSPIRATION FOR MY DESIRE TO WRITE A STORY. But instead. I was smacked with that reminder that. I don’t choose what’s important and what needs to be done and if I do it. I don’t get to choose. So why both having dreams? Why bother having wants? Wishes? Why bother? (It would matter more if I had a community that HELPS ME and maybe I have a community that PROTECTS me but that’s. Not the same. I feel so fuckin brainless. My thoughts bounce in every direction but go Nowhere. They loop back on themselves and fight each other like rabid animals. I don’t know how I’m supposed to live with a brain like this. Forever. Happily. Not without reliable support. Which doesn’t exist. There is no such thing as reliable. Everything is temporary. So it’s always fINE THEN you have to FIND A WAY TO COPE. ALONE? FOREVER? It’s bullshit. I hate this shit. Ahhhhh.
I wanted to think Ooo Ahh inspiration for a story I want to write so bad.
But it just went ‘when. When will you write. How. Will you be afloat. Will it distract you. Distract you from friends from life from stability? You can’t even take care of yourself you don’t deserve to do anything until you can take care of yourself and function with others and *you have so many other higher priorities that will kill you if you do not attend to them first*’
Weeps
THERAPIST SAID I DIDNT HAVE OCD. NOT EVEN PURE O. AND MAYBE SHE RIGHT. I CAN STOP THINKING ABOUT IT. IF PUSHED IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION. WHICH IM NEVER. BECAUSE IM ALONE. AND THAT MEANS I END UP RUMINATING TIL I HAVE HEART AND STOMACH PAINS. AHHHHHHH.
Awoooo
Awoooo
I hate it
#me.#therapy.#mur has a moment.#suicidal ideation//#negative//#(I’m not feelin it now but boy#(I will lapse in and out for being. a fucking. mess.#(if I allow myself even a moment of non distraction#(sometimes I can see where the stereotypes for autism come from#(yeah. maybe I do wanna zone out unspeaking on one thing#(and if you interrupt me I will lose my shit so hard I may just hurt everyone around me and myself#(because I am. I. so much. mental anguish. on the regular.#(I miss my therapist I am going to hate my new one no matter what she says#(she went on medical leave the minute my old therapist left#(like yeahyeahyeah sure can’t control that#(you could’ve emailed anyone about my continuum of care but you DIDNT#(I HOPE U HAVE TEN THOUSAND ALLERGIC REACTIONS
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Monster | Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader
AU! where Simon gives in to the violent sexual fantasies he has after Roba tortures him.
CW: noncon, darkfic, mind break, forced deepthroat, forced penetration, face slapping, tit slapping, rough sex, give in.
You yawned as you walked back home, half-lidded eyes looking down at your phone. 3:28AM, yet you ended the workday with plenty of tips from your little show and managed to leave earlier. You clutch your bag of singular euro bills, glancing behind you to make sure no man from the strip club was following you. Your mind rests at peace once you realize the street is fully empty.
''Fucking hell…'' You mutter softly, hand running through your hair as you open the door to your house, the alcohol and lack of sleep from the previous day catching up to you while you struggle to put the key inside. You manage to open the door, another yawn coming out of your lips as you walk inside, so, so, so close to closing the door behind you before it slams back into you, a pair of skull gloved hands pushing you back inside by the hair, his other hand closing the door behind.
''Get in, you fuckin' bitch.'' You didn't even have time to scream before he was onto you, pushing you into the couch roughly and in the midst of your struggle, you were able to see more of him. A black balaclava was covering his face, eye black tainting all over his eyes, cheeks and forehead, and those eyes… were haunting, to say the least. You could see pure madness and fury in them, yet you don't recognize them.
''If you're gonna fuckin' tease me…'' He started, ignoring your cries and pleas, begging him to stop whatever he was going to do. His fingers yanked your hair, forcing you to look up at him while your much smaller body sat helplessly on the couch, limbs in an awkward position after being forced to sit there.
''My parents are going to be home soon—'' Your sentence gets interrupted by a harsh slap on the cheek, the sound echoing all over the walls that will eventually see your demise.
''No, they fuckin' won't. I know you live alone, love.'' An amused chuckle escapes his lips as he sees the panic setting in your eyes, his hands undoing his belt as all you can do is cry, tears staining your vision and falling down your cheeks as you realize just in how much trouble you're in.
In a lapse of judgement and perhaps hope, you dare get up and try to dash for the door, and you're so close— hand on the doorknob before you're yanked back by the hair, a harsh slap being gifted to your cheek as he pushes you back onto the couch, easily removing the skimpy shirt you were wearing to reveal your chest.
''Push your tits out, come on.'' The way he's looking at you is like a predator stalking its prey, ready to pounce, so you obey. Your back arches as you push your tits out, whining and sobbing more as he started slapping them.
''That's it.'' He muttered between clenched teeth; the leather skull gloves he's wearing just making the impact even more painful. You watch with panic as he lowers his pants, hooking them right underneath his balls. He's massive— not only in length but in girth, a 9-incher covered in veins, the angry red tip seen slightly from the foreskin covering it as he angles it up to your sealed lips.
''Open your fuckin' mouth.'' He gives you a warning look and you eventually relent, glancing at the knife holster on his thigh, knowing he can easily hurt you even worse if he wanted to. His leg rests on the side of your face, leg resting on the couch as he begins to put his dick inside your mouth, gagging sounds escaping you the deeper he goes, yet it doesn't seem to bother him.
''Eat that fucking dick.'' He whispers, thrusting in and out of your mouth while holding onto your hair, guiding your head to jerk himself off with your throat. Your face is a mess of tears, snot, spit, and ruined makeup, making the scene all the more erotic for his twisted, screwed up mind.
You try your best not to throw up, silently thankful that you didn't eat much that day after being in a rush to get to work. The way his fat cock keeps slamming down hurts like a motherfucker, bruising the back of your throat with ease, but you still try not to gag too much in fear of puking down his cock.
He pulls out for a second, giving your cheek another hard slap before forcing you to lay on the couch, legs out of it while he removes your panties, leaving your dry cunt exposed. He positions himself on his knees between your legs, twisting the fabric of your skirt just enough to be able to spit on your pussy and line himself up.
''Please— please don't.'' Your pathetic cries are music to Simon's ears, his tortured mind finally feeling at peace when he covers your mouth and slams into you with one thrust. You scream into his hand, the sound muffled as he begins to move in and out, looking down at the way your cunt is swallowing him up.
''Your parents— bet they know you're a little slag.'' His voice is even deeper and more strained now that he's fucking into your cunt, his hand hesitantly moving away from your lips after giving you a warning look. You cry and whimper, small meaningless words that don't even register in his head as his hips slam back into you.
''Little fuckin' trash tart like you? They already knew you were gonna grow to be a whore.'' His movements are rough and unrelenting, the grip on your hips keeping you in place as he pounds into you with primal hunger. Despite the pain, your body is responding to the stimulation of his cock slamming into the perfect spot, slowly lubricating your cunt against your will.
''Look at you!'' He says with a small chuckle, pulling out while holding his dick with one gloved hand, pulling down his foreskin slightly to rub the tip of his dick all over your wetness.
''No—'' You cry out and he gets louder.
''Look! Fuckin' scooping your cum up.'' He scoops your wetness on the tip of his dick, rubbing it up and down before he starts to go back inside you, with a gentleness that lasts a second before he's buried all the way inside your wet, needy cunt.
''Little fucking prostitute, aren't you?'' He ignores the way you cry out ''no'' repeatedly and beg him to stop, thrusts becoming faster and more forceful, the sound of skin slapping against skin filing the room, the smell of sex and your whiny moans hanging heavy in the room as Ghost ravages you mercilessly.
He pulls out of you enough to put you in all fours on the couch, his big hand forcing your back to arch as much as possible before he slams himself back inside, hitting all the right places. You bite your lip as you try your best not to scream or moan, your body betraying you the more he fucks you with his stupidly big dick.
''I can help you— be your little pimp... sell you to all my friends.'' He's a big, burly man, too big for you to handle, you can't even imagine taking more than anyone half his size at this point, cunt abused and leaking with a mix of your own juices and his precum.
''Then we'll take turns fucking you.'' Every single one of his thrusts drives you closer to the edge against your will, his control over your movements unyielding.
''You're just a fucktoy. A piece of meat for men to use.'' His gloved hands open your asscheeks as he looks at the way his massive cock is disappearing into you, lips grasping around it for dear life.
''You're lucky I'm not fucking your ass. That's for next time. Fuckin' ass-rape you, yeah?'' You cry louder at the threat, hissing in a mix of pain and pleasure as he fucks you, hands now going to your ass while he keeps thrusting in and out, sharp spanks delivered onto your plump ass, making you whine even louder. You're trying to resist, but he's fucking you so good it's hard to grasp at the little sanity you have left. He pulls all the way out before slamming himself back in.
''Does it hurt your little pussy?'' He asked sarcastically, tone laced with fake pity while his grunts mix with your moans, the intensity of his thrusts leaving you both breathless. There's no tenderness in the way he fucks you, only a raw need of release.
''Please—'' You plead, yet you don't even know what you're begging for. For him to stop? To go faster? Everything is hazy, your mind being destroyed the same way your squelching cunt is.
''Cum as much as you want, love.'' He whispered and you scoffed, earning you another hard slap on the ass.
''Fuck you.'' You spit out and he chuckles, an eyebrow raised under the black balaclava.
''Fuck me?'' He asks, a bruising hold on your hips as he slams deeper and harder. You nod your head, soft whimpers escaping your lips.
''Yeah.'' You confirm, trying your best not to moan at the way his cock keeps touching all your nerves in the right places, cunt juice leaking down your thighs.
''Fuck me?'' He asks again, more irritated as his thrusts halt for a second. ''Yeah- Fu— fuuuck!'' Your words are interrupted as he fucks you faster, dick slipping out before being slammed back in at an unlawful pace.
'''s what I thought.'' You can tell he thinks he's hot shit simply by his cocky tone, enjoying this little game he's playing with you.
''You let anyone with a big cock fuck you like this?'' He taunts, trying to get in your head, and you let him. You desperately nod your head, and even if it's not exactly true... it's not embarrassing if you're shameless.
''Fuck yourself on my cock.'' He commands, his hips stopping all movement and you obey, like a leashed dog. Your hips push back on his cock but it's not enough no matter how fast you go, lewd moans and whines escaping your lips as you're desperate for release.
''Faster, baby... make yourself cum or I'll hurt you real bad.'' You hear the sound of sharp metal being removed from its holster and panic quickly settles in, making you slam yourself down faster and harder on his dick— not good enough for his taste. You feel the tip of the knife sliding down your spine and you stop, scared of accidentally cutting yourself.
He pushes you off his cock, making you land on your chest as he gets in a prone position, holding his bodyweight up with one hand as he leans closer to you.
''Need some help?'' His husky voice whispers, the chuckle afterwards making you sick. He wants you to admit defeat verbally, already knowing what you want, yet you're still as stubborn as a mule.
''Fuck you.'' You mutter softly and another chuckle comes out of him, lining himself back up to your cunt as your hands clench the sheets, relief painted on your face when you hear the knife go back to its holster. He slides himself back inside at an agonizing pace, hips halting once he's all the way inside.
''Just say the word and I'll fuck you stupid.'' He whispers softly, hips circling against your ass slowly making you even more desperate. You whine out, tears staining your eyes again, this time out of desperation rather than fear and resistance.
''F-fuck... please fuck me.'' You whisper out and he gives you another deep thrust, hips stopping again as you cry out in desperation.
''Sorry? Didn't catch that one, doll.'' Fuck him. Fuck him and his stupidly nice dick. You throw your pride aside, wanting to get this over with.
''Please fuck me.'' You say louder, grimacing at your pathetic cock-drunk voice, yet he listens to you for the first time. He resumes his brutal pace, ravaging you with no care, the line between pleasure and pain blurs out as he uses you for his own pleasure, dominance overpowering any sense of morality and gentleness.
''T-too hard...'' You cry out when he grabs your arms, getting on his knees while he uses your arched body to fuck himself into you. If you're complaining about it, he'll just give it to you faster.
''Shit— s-slow the fuck down...'' His grunts mix with your moans, the intensity of his thrusts driving you closer and closer to the edge while your cunt gets used and abused.
''Cum with me.'' He grunts out, balls slamming against your clit with each hard thrust, control slipping away from both of you as you're reduced to nothing but a groaning mess united as one, bodies tensing up as your vision is overcome by white, reaching what seems to be your most intense orgasm. Your vision goes dark as he covers your eyes and you can feel a pair of lips kissing your shoulder, moaning lowly without any restraints as he releases all the way inside your cunt.
''Takin' my cock so well...'' He whispers, kissing the side of your head before slowly pulling out of you. When you look back up at him, the mask is covering his face again. You close your eyes, head leaning back on the mattress as exhaustion catches up to you, not registering the way he carries you in his arms to the shower to get rid of the evidence.
#simon ghost riley#cod mwii#cod mw2#ghost mw2#mw2 x reader#mw2 smut#call of duty mwii#mwii#ghost mwii#mwiii#call of duty#modern warfare#modern warfare 2#ghost x f!reader#simon ghost x reader#ghost x female reader#ghost call of duty#ghost cod#ghost#ghost x reader#ghost x y/n#ghost x you#ghost smut#simon riley x reader#simon riley#simon riley x y/n#simon riley x you#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley smut#n0nc0n
928 notes
·
View notes
Text
When Eddie's band makes it big, Steve couldn't be prouder. He is the most supportive boyfriend anyone could wish for, joining Eddie for as many concerts as possible. He's always in the first row, cheering Eddie on. However, he doesn't really fit in - it's not just his clothes or the perfect hair, but the fact he stays very still, just bouncing on his feet. He doesn't headbang or hop.
Eddie doesn't mind at all, he knows how to tell that Steve's enjoying himself. But there are fans who have their own idea what people should do at concerts and Steve doesn't fit it. When they play at a larger venue, Eddie overhears two metalheads in the first row shit talking Steve, complaining how he looks bored, how his head doesn't even move, why is he even there if he's afraid to mess up that fluffed up hair? He doesn't know if Steve can hear, but he isn't taking any chances. They haven't been exactly subtle at concerts or after them, so he acts without thinking too much, too hard.
Clearing his throat into the microphone, Eddie asks for everyone's attention. "Thank you for being such a wonderful crowd tonight. I want to extend one special thank you to the most special person to me." The rest of the Corroded Coffin guys laugh and Gareth smacks his face, but they're not malicious. They just watch, wide smiles on their faces. "Here in the first row is my boyfriend, Steve. Can't miss him, he's the prettiest guy around. Thank you for being here with me, even if you have to be sick of hearing the same songs every night."
The crowd laughs, Steve mouths never at him and Eddie continues.
"You see, Steve isn't really into metal. And that's fine, baby, you're so kind and handsome I could forgive you anything, even this lapse of judgment. But what I really want to stress out here is how lucky I am. I am so fucking lucky that I have a boyfriend who is supportive, who comes to watch me perform even if this isn't his crowd. He still lets the music move him, even if he can't do what we all do because his migraines are no joke and headbanging is a sure way to start them. But he's still here. And that's what matters to me the most. So from the bottom of this cynical, hardened heart - I'm so fucking thankful you're here, baby. Thank you."
It is mortifyng. It is like baring his soul in front of strangers. But seeing Steve's wide smile, seeing how people watch him with newfound respect, it's so worth it.
Eddie takes a deep breath and leans into the microphone. "And with that, the show must go on! Let's start the next song!"
"About damn time," says Jeff, grinning at him. "You two are making us all here jealous, man."
From that night on, Corroded Coffin has a mascot. Not an animal, not a drawn figure, but a handsome young man who always wears the same thing - a yellow sweater. He's like a beacon, always in front of the band, and when the fans chant "Steve! Steve! Steve!" and Steve blushes so hard his ears become red, Eddie knows this is only right. It's only right for Steve to be loved for who he is. And the more the merrier.
#steddie#steddie drabble#eddie munson#steve harrington#corroded coffin#stranger things#stranger things drabble
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
The Sublet - Roommate!AU
Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along. Fighting, Aemond being an asshole, fingering, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, degradation, hair pulling, spanking, daddy kink.
Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader
Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?
Notes: Okay so, two things. I should preface this by telling you all that Harold Holt was an Australian Prime Minister who went swimming and never came back. It was assumed he drowned, or got eaten by sharks, or if you want to go with the more fun conspiracy theories, got abducted in a submarine. But to do a Harold Holt is basically to do a runner, no show, disappearance with no word, smoke bomb, etc. Hope you get it now lol. Secondly, the song Aemond is listening to is from one of my longtime fav bands who I got to see live! The song is ‘Kletka - Molchat Doma’ and its such a vibe, anyway, thanks for your patience on the update! Its a long ass chapter because I don't know how to stop.... Enjoy <3
Chapter 6: Lapse in Judgement
Waking up the next morning was something that you had dreaded the moment you ran and hid in your room, diving beneath your sheets as your heart raced and your core throbbed.
Your fingers had grazed your lips, sensitive from the bruising kiss he had pulled you into.
Fuck.
You had kissed Aemond.
And Aemond had kissed you.
You had felt the phantom feeling of his fingers on your core and had tossed and turned all night, desperately trying to ignore the heartbeat that settled between your thighs and the mounting anxiety that followed.
What would Helaena say?
When you woke that morning, the turning of your stomach began almost immediately, anxiety winding its way higher and higher, palms sweating, knowing that you would have to face the music and exit your room.
A small headache had formed behind your eyes from the alcohol, but it was barely noticeable in comparison to your racing thoughts. Or perhaps the cause for your headache was the conundrum you now found yourself in.
Note to self, no more Porn Star Martinis if a handsome and brooding man was in your apartment.
You dressed, and ran to the bathroom, noticing Aemond’s door was open.
When you looked at yourself in the mirror, there were bags beneath your eyes, and your hair a mess from tossing and turning all night. You paid careful attention to concealing the dark shadows and fixing your hair before you took a steady breath and exited the loo.
You expected Aemond to be gone for his morning run as he usually was, as the creature of habit he seemed to be, door open and all that, but nope, fate had other plans for you. Aemond stood, in his over six foot glory in the kitchen, mug in his hands as he looked out the window. He was dressed in his running gear, grey shirt today and his hair was down, cascading over his shoulders, strands tucked neatly behind his ears.
On your approach, he lifted his head to look at you.
You swallowed dryly, feet stumbling slightly against the floor boards as you made your way over, heat rising in your cheeks. You were mortified, and beyond that, ashamed.
Ashamed of who it was.
Ashamed of how you had acted.
Ashamed that it was Helaena’s brother.
And ashamed that you had liked it.
You had to tear your face away from his gaze, diverting your eyes to the floor as you made your way over, picking up the kettle to make yourself your morning tea. You didn’t greet him verbally, too unsure of what to do, and so you gave him a soft nod.
A sliding sound caught your attention.
You took your eyes from the sink, and beside you on the bench, Aemond had pushed with two knuckles a mug of tea towards you.
It was your favourite mug, and it looked like he had managed to make it perfectly.
You blinked up at him, putting the kettle back in its holder and reaching for the tea. Your fingers grazed over his momentarily, heart racing as you took the mug from him. Warmth spread through your chest and you swallowed.
“I’m sorry.” You breathed, picking up the mug to your lips, “I, uh,” You let out an awkward chuckle, “I think I had one too many martini’s last night.” Another awkward laugh, and then the words didn’t stop, Oh god, “Sara took me to this new bar, and it was so cool, it actually reminded me a bit of you. We had one drink aft-“
“-Don’t worry about it.” Aemond interrupted your anxious rambling, his cool gaze on you, face blank.
You nodded and sipped at the tea.
Your heart raced in your chest.
It was perfect.
“Thanks for the tea. And for dealing with me last night.” Another awkward laugh, you lifted the mug towards him.
Aemond hummed, looking away to sip at his coffee, the strong smell of the beans surrounding you.
You stood together in the quiet of the kitchen, awkward energy surrounding the both of you before he set down his empty mug. He stepped closer, his chest almost bushing yours. Your breath caught in your throat as his hand reached forward.
And then over you to turn on the sink, a small ‘excuse me’ falling from his lips as he rinsed his mug and placed it into the dishwasher.
Your cheeks felt hot and you sucked in a shaky breath.
Aemond didn’t speak another word, and turned away from you, heading towards the front door as he pulled out his AirPods and placed them in his ears. He disappeared down the hall, and the last thing you heard was the keys being pulled out of the dish, and the door opening and closing.
You let the breath you had been holding in out in one big gust. Hand moving to rub at your neck awkwardly.
What the fuck was that?
-
The day droned on as it would with Larys hovering over your shoulder as usual. It didn’t help that you had not heard a word from Gwayne Hightower, and were swamped with endless calls from investors and clients whom he had meetings with and didn’t show.
“Do you know where Gwayne is?” You leant over your desk, looking to the one next to yours, a solicitor names Jasper Wylde watching at you with steely eyes.
His curly hair shifted as he turned to face you, dark beard trimmed perfectly against his chin, “No clue. He may be at the magistrates office. Got a text from Tyland this morning saying that something went down at the case this morning.”
You sighed loudly, leaning back in your chair, “That’s the last thing we need. How come Tyland texted you and not me? I’ve got calls coming out of my ass from angry and disgruntled clients about Gwayne missing their meetings.”
Jasper shrugged, “You know what Tyland is like, useless at the best of times.”
You snorted and rolled back to your desk.
Jasper was nice, stiff, but nice.
He took his job very seriously, and Tyland Lannister often called him Ironrod as a joke. Though he was older and a complete professional, it didn’t stop him from sending an occasional flirty glance your way, or rise of his dark brows.
Recently divorced.
You knew he had had four wives, all ending in divorce, and multiple kids with each one. You didn’t know how he had the time to support them all, let alone spend time with them. But he did, and you had been surprised when you first started and saw the pictures pinned to his cubicle of all his kids.
There was, at the very least, ten.
Ironrod might be more fitting for something else.
By the time the day ended, you had slumped in your chair, sighing loudly as you packed away your things. You turned to look at Jasper who was still working.
He never followed the clock ‘off at five’ rule you had, and would often stay behind to get everything perfect.
A real stickler for law.
You walked to the train station and jumped on the next one that rolled slowly into the subway. On your way home, your anxiety flared again. You hadn’t even answered Helaena’s texts asking about how you were and how Aemond was. Each time your fingers hovered over the notification a wave of guilt would crash over you.
You didn’t even know how to respond to it. What could you say? ‘Everything is great! It’s super awkward, but so fine. By the way, did I mention that I almost let your brother take me against the kitchen bench? Haha, anyway, how are you?’
You shuddered at even the thought of telling her yet.
Stopping at the grocery store, you decided to pick up some things you knew you were running low on, as well as grabbing the ingredients you needed to make dinner with for the night.
What you hadn’t expected when you arrived home, was the smell of cooking food filling the apartment and the sound of sizzling vegetables coming from the stove, ‘Kletka - Molchat Doma’ streaming out of your speaker. You chucked your keys in the dish atop Aemond’s and kicked off your shoes, shuffling to the kitchen.
He stood facing the stove, hair pulled back in a low and messy bun, shorter strands tucked behind his ears.
The tall man had changed out of his running gear, and was in a black t-shirt and some black dickies cuffed at the bottom, large black Doc Martins tied tightly on his feet.
You watched as his shoulders spread, muscles rippling beneath his shirt as he cooked, the smell of spices filling the kitchen and lounge room.
It smelt so good that your mouth watered.
Aemond effortlessly flipped food in a pan, arm tight and tensed, veins visible on his pale skin as he worked. It was almost enchanting watching him cook, and your stomach did a flip as you gazed, warmth spreading into your gut.
“You going to stand and watch the whole time?”
You tensed, and sheepishly cleared your throat, “What are you cooking?” You walked over to stand next to him, his eye slipping to you from the corner of his eye as he continued to flip and stir the food.
“Dinner.”
You snorted, “I can see that.” You turned away and began to put your groceries and things away, opening the fridge to see that it was already full.
Aemond had gone grocery shopping.
“Do you eat meat?” He asked, chucking in some before you answered.
“Yea, I do.”
He hummed, flicking a finger out to turn the speaker down slightly so he could hear you better. He reached above him and pulled down two bowls, stirring the dinner again in the saucepan before he flicked it over into the two bowls.
He spun and gave you one, turning the speaker off.
Aemond made you dinner.
“Oh, thanks.” You uttered, taking the bowl from his hands before digging into the cutlery draw to pull out two forks.
Aemond hummed again, grabbing a fork from your hand as he turned the stove off and grabbed his own bowl, moving to the couch to eat. You followed after him, still in your work clothes and sat on the opposite end of the couch, feeling static energy between you both.
He flicked on the tv and began eating, dropping his phone on the table face down. You followed and began eating, watching some show about dragons and royalty.
The dinner was amazing.
You even groaned audibly as you ate.
Aemond was a good cook.
“This is amazing.” You complimented him, shoving another forkful into your mouth, flavour exploding on your tongue.
Aemond hummed in acknowledgement.
“Who taught you to cook like this?”
“Helaena.” He smiled.
“Of course she did.” You chuckled, feeling the tension between you begin to dissolve.
This was fine.
You could pretend nothing happened.
He totally didn't have you pressed against the kitchen bench with his finger on your cunt last night.
“How was work?” He turned his head to you, eye concentrated on your face, watching your reaction.
You groaned, “Shit. Gwayne did a Harold Holt and left me to clean up the mess.”
Aemond’s brows frowned, “Harold Holt?”
You flicked your hand in dismissal, “Australian Prime Minister. Anyway, absolute nightmare of a day, so thanks for dinner. I was thinking after I got groceries I would just come home and make some noodles.”
Aemond smirked, and your stomach fluttered at the sight, “I got groceries too.”
You smirked back, “I saw that. Thanks by the way. Great minds do think alike.”
The coffee table buzzed from Aemond’s phone, once, twice, three times in succession. You watched as a long arm reached out to press the silence button, dropping it back onto the table with a huff.
You polished off your dinner, watching the show together.
“Why doesn’t she just take her dragons to the castle and kill everyone?” You watched the silver haired woman on the screen and couldn’t help but think of the man beside you.
“That would mean she kills innocents and proves a point to her enemies that she is cruel like her father.” Aemond mused.
His phone buzzed again.
“But she’s proven that she’s not. If anything, she’s shown restraint and empathy.” You argued, before a large smirk wound on your face, “Now that I look at her, you guys look similar. You’re more brooding though.”
“Brooding again.” Aemond huffed a laugh and you followed.
“Brooding and a chef. You won’t get any complaints from me.” You paused tilting your head and nodded to the screen, “If I was her I’d just kill everyone.”
“Spoken like a true tyrant.”
“Tyrant of this apartment, and this apartment only. Maybe my office cubicle if my boss is being particularly slimy.”
Aemond hummed, “Larys giving you a hard time?”
You grimaced, “When does he not? I don’t know what your mum sees in him.” Aemond nodded in agreement, “At least I don’t work under Tyland Lannister, he would be a nightmare not even I could survive.”
The thought of working under your ex’s brother made your skin crawl, you didn’t even want to think about it.
The table vibrated again, and then again. Aemond snatched up his phone, pale brows frowning as he looked at the screen. His lips twitched and you watched any inkling of the good mood he had been in disappear.
He threw his phone down on the table with more force than needed, the sound causing you to flinch.
“Who’s that? Don’t tell me Aegon’s stuck in some sorority bathroom again.” You tried to lighten the mood, teasing tone in your voice.
Aemond’s cheek twitched and you watched as his hands flexed, “No one.” His voice came out almost like a growl.
You felt a pang of concern for him, “Are you ok?”
Aemond stood abruptly, grabbing his bowl and shoving his phone into his pocket roughly, “Drop it.”
You blinked up at him as he snatched your finished bowl and made his way to the kitchen.
-
Over the next two days Aemond avoided you completely, leaving early and coming home late, opting to either eat outside of the house or in his room. His avoidance of the apartment came at a great relief as well as a disappointment.
You were back to square one, and you had a sneaking suspicion that his mood came from either his ex or news of his father.
You had finally replied back to Helaena, shooting her an apology and then calling her after to tell her about work and see how she was doing. She sounded a bit shorter than usual, but she told you that being back with the family had been tense, and that her dad was not doing great.
You wished you could console her, hold her and let her cry, but you were stuck in the house with her brother and unable to go to her with the pile of work that was mounting on your desk.
When she had asked about Aemond, your heart had raced in your chest, anxiety peaking as you lied and told her that he was nice enough but rarely home. You didn’t tell her about your kiss in the kitchen, or how his hand had gone up your dress, and guilt ate away at you because of this.
You told yourself you would tell her, but not now. Not with everything else going on in her life. You couldn’t add another pile of flaming shit to the stress she was going through.
You would reap the consequences later.
After the third day had passed of Aemond avoidance of you, you found him in the kitchen that morning where you had found him on Monday, leant against the bench, coffee in hand, and a steaming mug of tea beside him.
An apology.
Or at least, one in his opinion.
He greeted you with a soft and rumbling ‘morning’ before he left to go on his run, leaving you with the tea. You stood leant against the bench and drank the brew that was perfectly steeped to your liking.
Helaena must have told him how you liked it, or maybe he taken a good guess. Either way, you were gladdened for his shite apology and drank it happily.
You went to work and made sure to politely chew Gwayne out with multiple ‘per my last email’s and flooded him with rebooked meetings that were back to back for him to chase up on. He had come to your desk, leaning against it as he watched you and explained the reason for his absence, all the while Jasper pretended to not be listening in.
Gwayne often tried to ‘connect’ with you on a more personal level, but he annoyed you more than anything. He had this air around him that screamed ‘Trad Wife Fantasy’ and you were definitely not one to entertain that. Misogyny seemed to be ripe in the Hightower circles.
When you had got home that evening, Aemond was not, and so you began to heat up leftovers from the night before.
The apartment had felt cold despite the warmth outside, and you realised that the aircon had been left on for likely the whole day. You turned it off, making a note to check it before you leave in the mornings, chucking on an oversized jumper before sitting down to eat.
You flicked on the tv to put a show on and zone out, needing to let your brain turn to mush after the long day, before finishing your meal and putting your dishes in the washer. You were curled up amongst the pillows with your jumper sleeves tucked over your hands when you heard keys be pushed into the door.
Aemond entered the apartment, long silver hair shifting against his back as he sauntered in. His eye dropped to you on the couch and gave you a small nod. You nodded back, greeting him with a small ‘hey’ before going back to watching the television.
Aemond moved about the kitchen to make himself dinner and you scrolled through your phone, wondering if you should reply to Cregan’s text asking if you wanted to go out drinking with him and the boys that weekend.
The couch dipped beside you, Aemond having sat in the centre of the couch, thigh brushing against yours.
“What’re you watching?” He asked, face turned to the tv.
You turned to look at Aemond’s, who’s attention was locked on the screen.
Everything about him was so severe. The way he spoke, the way he moved, the music he listened to, all way to how he interacted with others, and his features reflected it. His nose was long and sharp, and it matched his chin and jaw, his scar slicing through his eye to his cheek.
But his lips were different. They weren’t sharp like the rest of him, they were soft. So soft, and the way he had held you in the kitchen was softer than you had expected he would have been.
You had expected him to grip your neck roughly, whisper in your ear obscenities, shove you backwards into the shelves, and bend you over the bench to wrench your dress over your ass, and d-
His face turned to you as he asked you again, and you swallowed feeling heat rise in your cheeks, “Some show about a zombie apocalypse.” You answered.
Was it hot in here?
Why was it so hot all of a sudden?
Aemond hummed, lifting a long leg to cross over a knee, his thigh hovering above yours, as warmth from his body spread up through you, travelling straight to your gut.
He smelt good.
Spicy and dark, with a hint of cigarette hanging in the undertones.
Feeling suddenly warm, you gripped the underside of your jumper and lifted, pulling it up and over your head. Cool air met your stomach and chest, and you snapped a hand down to pull the shirt that had gotten caught in your jumper back over your skin.
Shit.
One arm after the other, you took the jumper off in a flustered set of movements, chucking it onto the arm of the couch as you tried to hide the blush of your cheeks.
Ok.
He hadn’t said anything.
Clearly he hadn’t seen otherwise he would have said something. It was Aemond, he would have been snarky and sarcastic or chastising. It’s fine. So fine. Totally fine. Not as if you didn’t just flash him. Not at all.
Everything was fine.
You sat for a moment, adjusting yourself against the couch cushions, suddenly not being able to get comfortable, feeling a shyness spread through your chest. You breathed shallowly. A peak couldn’t hurt. You let your head turn slightly to look at Aemond.
His jaw was clenched, hand against his knee in a tight fist, small blush on his cheeks.
The couch vibrated and Aemond stiffened, this time not reaching to look at his phone.
Okay.
Maybe he had seen.
Fuck.
You stood awkwardly, grabbing the discarded jumper. Aemond looked up, watching you, chest rising and falling slowly beneath his shirt.
“Gonna have a shower,” You blurted, watching his silver lashes blink up at you, “Unless you want first dibs?”
Aemond shook his head and you moved away, walking straight to the bathroom.
Your stomach was full of butterflies as you made your way to the bathroom, stripping quickly to turn on the shower and let the water run cold, trying to cool the rising heat inside of you.
You spent ample time in there, goosebumps erupting on your skin as you attempted to ignore the way the man in your lounge room stoked a fire within you.
But no matter how hard you tried, it didn’t work.
You turned off the shower and stepped out, looking over at the towel rack to grab your towel to dry yourself.
Nothing.
Fuck.
On the back of the door was Helaena’s lilac silk robe, something she always wore when you would do a girls night in, face masks and hair care, and painted nails with your favourite movie, always Pride and Prejudice (2005 version), and a bottle of red. You grabbed the robe off the rack and threw it over your body, the silk clinging to your wet skin.
You swung the door open to run to the linen closet and grab yourself a new towel, running straight into a warm and broad chest. Hands steadied your shoulders as you stumbled backwards, eyes snapping up to meet Aemond’s gaze.
His fingers were tight around your arms, clenched into your flesh as he looked down at you. You swallowed, breathing heavily as your heart raced, the air between you charged.
“You can let go of me now.” You breathed, still in his grip as he looked at you.
His gaze darkened as his eye roamed down your body, and you felt heat brushing against your skin from it. Aemond’s gaze dropped further down still, hovering over your chest as he breathed heavily.
His fingers twitched and then skated down your arms to his side, raising goosebumps along your skin. He took a step back as you moved around him to open the linen cupboard, pulling down a towel.
From behind you could still feel his eye roaming over you, warmth sliding down your spine and into your gut. You gave him a small and shy smile before you stepped back into the bathroom, towel held against your chest.
Why was he staring at you like that?
You turned in the bathroom and caught your reflection in the mirror, you could now see why.
The thin lilac silk had stuck to your wet skin, becoming almost sheer, patches of the wet robe clinging to your curves, whilst the rest was dry and soft. The dark of your nipples were revealed against the soft material, and the curve of your breast was visible.
You blushed deeply, taking off the robe to hang it back the door to dry as you towelled yourself down, dressing into some comfortable pyjamas to get ready for bed.
Anxiety nipped at you again.
Gods.
Had you just flashed him twice in one day?
What was he going to think of you?
He probably thought you were doing it on purpose.
Deciding to go back out to the lounge room and swallow the embarrassment that sat heavily in the back of your throat, you trudged quietly into the room, Aemond sitting stiffly on the couch as he continued to watch the show that was still playing on the screen.
When you sat beside him, his head had turned slightly to look at you, eye taking in your now clothed form, a blush spreading across your cheeks. You tucked your legs beneath you and began to watch it, still feeling his gaze solely on you, and no longer paying attention to whatever was on the screen.
“Did anyone die?” You asked, not daring to turn your head to fully face him, knowing that you would lose all composure once you did.
“Don’t think so.” Aemond’s voice was low and gravelly and it made you shift on the cushion.
You made an awkward sound in the back of your throat, an attempt at a laugh, but it came out more like a whine, “That’s good then, I don’t want to miss anything important.”
Aemond huffed, “You could have paused it.”
His shift in demeanour caught you off guard, “But you were watching it.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Then how do you know if anyone died?”
“I don’t.”
You turned your face to look at him annoyed, “Then why say no-one died?”
Aemond lifted a brow at you, lips beginning to pull down, “I didn’t say that at all. I said I didn’t think so.”
“That implies you were paying attention.” You argued, feeling annoyed at his snarky attitude again.
Aemond dragged an irritated hand through his hair, “I don’t care about your stupid fucking show. If you didn’t want to miss something, then maybe you should have been smart and paused it.”
Your head reared back as you looked at him, his mood rapidly having soured, “What the fuck is your problem?”
The man let out a hollow laugh, “Fuck off.”
His phone vibrated in the couch cushions.
“No seriously dude. What is your deal? You’ve been on my dick ever since you moved in. I’m doing you a favour here.”
Anger flashed across the Targaryens face, his brows pulling down into a sneer as his scar crinkled across his cheek, “You think you’re doing me a favour?”
You were wrong, his lips could be sharp.
Buzz.
You turned on the couch to face him, “You’re the one who needed change. Who needed to leave Harrenhal and come back here. You took Helaena’s room so you could get settled and start fresh.”
“You don’t know anything about what I need.”
Buzz.
“You need to check your phone for a start, because whoever is messaging you is clearly desperate to get in touch. Maybe it’s Alys.”
The air in the room dropped, and Aemond’s face became stoney, as though he had pushed away all emotions to the back of his mind with cool practice. The way his posture had even changed looked as though he was on guard, ready to fight.
Regret flooded you as you looked at him.
You felt immediately terrible, having crossed a line that should never had been crossed. You knew his break up with Alys was bad, and their relationship was not great, and you had just rubbed that in his face.
“That was uncalled for, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.” You apologised quietly, watching as his chest rose and fell jaggedly.
Aemond’s jaw was tensed, lips pursed together in a hard line as his eye narrowed on you, “Do you want to know what my problem is?” He leant forward, voice barely higher than a whisper.
You swallowed.
“My problem is that I live with someone who parades herself half naked around the apartment, and brings home men to fuck her loudly, all night, like a tart.”
You blanched, anger rising up your throat, “A tart? Wow.” Your voice dropped, “That's low. Even for you, Aemond.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know enough.” You sneered, standing from the couch to look down at him, “You have this ‘woe is me’ performance down to a T, when in reality you were born into a family of old money, not having to work a single day in your life, yet you still act as though you are downtrodden. You’re a spoilt, narcissistic asshole who looks down his purebred nose at people. You have more in common with Jason Lannister than you’d like to think.” You spun on your heel, anger bursting inside of you as you moved to storm away from the lounge room and into your bedroom.
Aemond’s hand shot out and grabbed your wrist tightly as he began to stand, “Is that what you really think?”
“It’s what I know. You’ve so far treated me as lesser than the dirt on the bottom of your shoe. You’ve got some serious social deficiencies, Aemond. Did Daddy not hug you enough as a child?” You mocked, striking him where you knew it would hurt the most.
Fuck him.
Fuck being nice.
Arrogant, rich, prick.
Aemond straightened to his full height above you, looking down as he silently seethed. The air around you was charged, and the tension continued to mount as he watched you, eye locked on yours.
“Careful, bunny.”
“Stop fucking calling me that.”
“Why?” His voice dropped, “It’s what you like, isn’t it? Being called bunny, being treated rough. I could bend you over this couch right now and I bet you’d be soaked.”
Your eyes widened, breath stilling in your chest.
Aemond took another step forward, dropping your wrist, “I’m right aren’t I? You act out like this because you want to be put in your place. You want to be a brat so daddy will fuck you, don’t you?”
A chill ran down your spine as he loomed above you, “Don’t you?”
You swallowed thickly, eyes narrowing, “Fuck you.”
Aemond chuckled, “I bet you’d love that.” His hand moved swiftly, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, tingles rippling down your neck.
His hand kept going, brushing through your hair softly, before he gripped a large chunk harshly at the nape of your neck.
A shocked gasp fell from your lips.
“Answer me.”
“No.”
Defiant until the end.
“No?” His brows raised, “Then if I check, you wouldn’t be dripping right now, would you?”
You raised your head in false bravado, a blush creeping across your skin, standing as impossibly still as you could. Challenging him.
Aemond hummed, spinning you around by the grip on your hair, swiftly bending you over the arm of the couch. A cry fell from your lips as your hips and stomach collided with the edge, hands gripping the side to catch yourself.
Your heart was beating against your ribs as you shifted in anticipation, the heat of Aemond’s body loomed behind you as he bent over you, lips coming to beside your ear.
“Now, if I check, and you are wet, you’re in trouble.” He purred.
You squirmed, his hand tugging on your tendrils sending pleasure down your spine and straight to your core. He chuckled, and you whined again, feeling one of his large palms skate down your side agonisingly slow before he reached your pyjama bottoms.
Aemond’s long fingers dipped beneath the elastic and paused for a moment, as though he was giving you a second to say no. But you said nothing, eyes focused on the cushion in front of you as he tugged the shorts down in one swift yank.
Aemond tutted behind you, dragging one long finger to swipe through your folds. Your back arched as you whined, teasing pleasure rippling up through you.
You could feel how wet you were, and your thighs rubbed together in anticipation of what was to come.
He clicked his tongue at you, “You’re soaked.” Aemond’s hand left your core and you turned your head to look at him, watching as he brought the slick finger up to his lips to suck.
Your lips parted as your watched, his eye sliding shut as he licked his finger clean, humming.
“So sweet.” He cooed, “But I was right.” His voice lowered, and he loomed back over you, looking into your eye as his face hardened, “You’ve been such a brat tonight.”
You shook your head, tilting your hips back towards him, biting your lip as you looked at him. A smirk wound on his face as he watched you, hand moving back between your thighs where they instantly found your bud.
He pressed into it meanly, and a sharp cry fell from your lips.
“Shut up.” He hissed, diving two long fingers into your core with no warning.
Your eyes clenched shut as he immediately began to fuck his digits in and out of you, delicious stretch blooming within as the lewd sound of your wetness was all to be heard over your shallow breaths.
Aemond stayed bent over you, watching your face contort with pleasure as you tried to keep your moans inside, biting your lip roughly.
It was so hard.
Every drag of his fingers found the soft spongey spot within you with practised precision and without mercy, roughly pressing into it with each thrust of his hand, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine and heat to settle in your gut.
“So quiet now.” He teased, “Where’s that attitude gone?”
“Fuck you.” You grit through your teeth panting, eyes half lidded.
Aemond huffed, straightening up to his full height as his other hand pressed down on your lower back, pinning you to the couch arm. His hand began to fuck into you rapidly, slick leaking down your thighs as you writhed beneath his grip, coil beginning to tighten.
A broken moan fell erupted from your lips as the knuckles of his hand beat harshly against your clit, pain and pleasure being pulled through you in equal measure. The pain eventually being overridden by the euphoria that he was pulling from you.
Your walls tightened around his fingers and you felt him shift, the width of his other hand spreading widely across your back as he knelt behind you. You squeaked, trying to move, feeling suddenly shy, which earnt you a particularly harsh swat against the flesh of your ass.
“Stay still.” Aemond growled, and you did, feeling the warm of his breath at your core.
Your legs shook as his fingers were pulled from within, and you heard him lap at his digits once more, humming almost pornagraphically.
“Such a dirty, little girl. So wet and wanting for daddy, aren’t you? Such a slut.”
You mewled, hips shifting upwards, trying to take his fingers back inside of you.
You were so close, so fucking close.
Aemond leant forward, and dragged a wide stripe with his tongue up through your folds, humming as he moved, his sharp nose pressing into your backside.
“Fuck.” You whined, jolting forward.
Aemond’s hands grabbed your cheeks and spread them wide in a bruising grip before he dived between your folds, licking and sucking at your pearl with no abandon, your release coming closer and closer with every swipe of his skilled tongue.
He moaned as he lapped at your arousal, tongue dipping between your folds to collect it straight from the source. Aemond’s fingers dug into your flesh meanly as you whined, hips jerking backwards, chasing your release. He held you still, fucking you with his tongue as your climax hurtled towards you.
“Please.” You begged, fingers gripping the couch for dear life, knuckles going white.
Aemond paused and pulled back, “Please what?” He asked coyly.
You groaned, “Please make me cum.”
“But you don’t deserve that, do you? You’ve been a bitch all night, haven’t you?”
You whined, pushing your hips back as you felt him stand behind you again, “Not true.” You argued pathetically, “You were mean first.”
Aemond’s hand pulled your head back by your hair, eye boring into your own, “You haven’t seen mean at all, princess.”
His fingers pressed back into your walls, head still wrenched back painfully as he fucked his hand into you harder and faster than before, the coil within winding rapidly.
“Fuck. Fuck. Aemond, fuck.”
“Not my name.” He yanked on your hair, pain pulling at your scalp, “What’s my name?”
“Aemond.” You breathed jaggedly, last bit of cheekiness coming through.
His hand stilled inside of you, “No.”
You wriggled and whined, trying to push yourself back to fuck yourself on his fingers. His grip in your hair tightened again, preventing you from making any movements as he kept his fingers still.
A warning.
You swallowed the last of your pride, and whimpered, “Daddy.”
“Good girl.” Aemond cooed, his hand began to fuck into you again, thumb curling beneath to press into your bud and rub with every thrust, “Beg.”
You whined, biting your lips as pleasure began to mount, your release so close you could begin to feel the peak.
“Beg.” He growled again, thrusts getting harder.
“Please,” You sobbed out, “Please let me cum. Please let me cum, daddy.”
“There, that wasn’t so hard was it?” He mocked, fucking his hand into you as fast as he could go.
The swirling of his thumb combined with his fingers moving rapidly, caused heat to bloom through your gut as your breath held in your chest. It was all too much, and the coil within wound pathetically fast as his skilled hand brought you to your peak.
“There you go.” He cooed from behind, feeling your walls clench around his digits, “Good girl.”
You came with a cry, hips pressing backwards into his hand as he fucked you through your climax, drawing out each and every inch of pleasure that he could. The room was filled with your moans and whines, the wet sound of your heat engulfing his fingers behind you.
Aemond slowed his thrusts down as you slumped against the arm of the couch, mind going fuzzy as pleasure coursed through your veins. Aemond removed his fingers carefully, wiping your slick on the inside of your thighs as you felt him look down at you.
Buzz.
You breathed heavily, lost in bliss as a small smile wound on your cheeks. You heard him chuckle behind you at the sight. Completely fucked out on the couch. And only with his hands and mouth.
Buzz.
“You gonna get that?” You sighed dreamily, pants still pushed down to your knees as lay slumped in a daze.
Buzz.
You turned your head to look at Aemond as he pulled out his phone in agitation, face scowling at the screen. You moved to sit on the arm of the couch, pulling your shorts up as you looked at him scrolling through his notifications.
“Are you okay?” You asked softly, feeling concern at seeing his sudden change in nature, “Is it your dad?”
His cool gaze flicked to your face, and you felt the warmth that had once surrounded you grow cold. It was like he had flicked a switch, “How about you mind your own business.” He scowled.
You furrowed your brows at him, “Woah, relax. I just wanted to know if you were okay.”
Aemond scoffed, shoving his phone back into his back pocket, “Are you always this overbearing?”
You blanched.
What the fuck?
Buzz.
“What?” You said in disbelief, brows furrowing.
“Oh, please.” He growled angrily, “Making me dinner, asking after me all the time. If I had known you were that desperate-“
“-Desperate?”
A flash of regret washed over Aemond’s face. He sighed through his nose and stepped towards you, “Y/n, I-“
“Don’t.” You held a hand up, feeling tears begin to prickle at your eyes standing on shaky legs, “This was a mistake.”
Aemond’s face dropped.
The silver haired man sighed again, “If you would just l-“
“If you treated Alys half as bad as this, it’s no wonder she left you.” You snapped, watching as his jaw tensed, feeling an ache bloom in your chest, “You have no regard for anyone else but yourself, and what we just did was a lapse in my judgement. I thought that you-“ You paused and swallowed, not bothering to finish what you were going to say.
Aemond stood deathly still as you sped past him, not waiting for his response as you fled to your bedroom, slamming your door shut behind you. You crawled immediately into the sheets, tears finally falling from your eyes as you cried softly, turning onto your side to curl in on yourself.
You felt used.
If there was one thing that you knew, it was that Aemond was not a good person, no matter what Helaena said.
Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3
Taglist:
@mrstargayen09 @iamavailablesstuff @malfoytargaryen @hogwarts1207 @diannnnsss @seni039 @qyburnsghost @lilitheal @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @watercolorskyy @skikikikiikhhjuuh @toodlesxcuddles @kaelatargaryen @aemonds-fire @anitazut @melsunshine @persephonerinyes @hey-lucille @wintrr13@arcielee @hueanhdang @coffedraven @happinessinthebeing @zairishmya @hanula18 @lovejustlovelythings-blog @harryssunflxwer @spinachtz @bellaisasleep @aemshaircare @heavenly1927 @yentroucnagol @snh96 @thedamewithabook @hanula18 @sweethoneyblossom1 @siriusblackrunmeover17 @yentroucnagol @urmomsgirlfriend1 @carriellie @ipostwhtifeel@queenofshinigamis @toodlesxcuddles @the-common-cowgirl@ladymarg0t @deadgirlwalkingtaylorsversion @diiickbrainn @inkwingswrites @rawrxbexjealous @virtualsweetsqueen @adeliciouslysaltybitch @tsujifreya @boofy1998 @docmartinis @rabbit-reveries @bel-bottoms @gemini-mama @docmartinis @stargazer-88
Bold is who I cannot tag
#aemond x reader#modern!aemond#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen fic#aemond#roommate!Au#roommates#hotd#hotd fanfic#hotd modern au#aemond x you#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond x y/n#Modern!Aemond x reader#new miniseries#asumofwords#aemond targaryen x y/n#the sublet a sum of words#the sublet#fanfic#hotdfanfic#aemondfanfic#aemond smut
611 notes
·
View notes
Note
sylly (like silly yk yk) what are your könig hcs? 🌹
SYLLY?! i…. Ok…. fair warning this is a little long… all that i do is think about this guy someone get him out of my head.
tread carefully reading this! there is a lot of sensitive content here: mental health stuff, abuse, mentions of sex and pornographic material, suicidal ideation, etc etc.
Generic, silly headcanons:
He prefers coffee (black) over tea, but he does have a bit of a sweet tooth (will never resist caramel if it’s presented to him). Honestly, he’s pretty self-reliant when it comes to food, too. On lazy days, he makes enough to where a takeout bill is hardly a concern, but for the most part he cooks! Not a chef by any means, but nothing he ever makes is bad!
Definitely wants a big, loving family, the polar opposite of what he had growing up as an only child in a far less than perfect household. Not a dealbreaker, but he does yearn for all of the love that he’s missed out on and then some.
Not big on video games, but… I do think he is absolutely spending every lonely leave playing Elder Scrolls. Would be so easy to convince to go larping or to a renfaire. I see everyone’s car/bike guy headcanons and I raise you… obsessed with fantasy König. He loves history and myth!! Why not combine the two and see him in chainmail.
The scent & kink posts. But to add… he’s an affectionate biter. (,: Knows the correct places to do so that won’t cause damage or hurt too terribly much. Likes to sniff you just as well! The embodiment of the “merge souls with me” post; in love, he just wants to feel you any way that he can and have some part of you lingering on him, even if it’s just a stray hair or your scent clinging to his shirt or pillowcase.
Cheating is never on this guy’s mind when he’s in a relationship. If he’s found a lady not running for the hills the second she catches sight of him, that’s his one and only. Sure, he may find himself attracted to someone else at some point or other during the duration of a relationship, but he’s devoted and disciplined! There’s never the fear of anyone coming in between he and his lover. He’ll spoil you with gifts, clingy to a point it’s overbearing, always giving you the utmost care… but is not opposed to bullying you into being a submissive, trembling mess either. He’s balanced!
Adores animals. Like any of them. There’s a special place in his heart for cats, but having a constant companion that he can take on hikes like a large dog would be ideal. Would definitely consider owning a tarantula or a snake, too. ^^ He isn’t scared of anything, let alone a creature that most are misinformed about… (he projects a little..). He would treat them just as well as anyone would treat a more “normal” pet. Understanding if you wouldn’t want to hold a giant arachnid (they’re delicate and you squirming over it would make him a bit protective over the poor thing. ): ), but it would mean a lot to him if you were more accepting.
König would not be a pretty sight (to most people) the majority of the time… I doubt that he takes care of himself past training his body and his allotted one-two minute military showers. His character description describes what is rumored to be under his mask as scary. Let him have his buzzcut, and scars, and teeth or old wounds a little too fucked up to fix! Unconventionally attractive is still attractive! (i think his ‘face reveal’ is actually so cute…)
Lots of sporadic little thoughts, but… Ambidextrous, can not ride a bike, whistles/hums to fill lapses of silence, flexes his fingers/cracks his knuckles when he’s nervous, definitely snores (loudly), brushes his teeth like 3-4 times a day (when he can) because he eats so much, not a picky eater at all, thinks it’s cute if you’re affectionately a little grossed out by him from time to time, absolutely the kind of person that thinks fuel and fire smell good, fluent in English and German but certainly knows many words and phrases from other languages.
Kind of clumsy. Overthinks the way his body looks to the point where sometimes his movements are a little stiff. Overestimates how tall a door frame may be if he’s distracted in the presence of others, hits his head and plays it off like he didn’t even notice. He’s (obviously) highly confident on the field, but in regular circumstances it’s totally reversed.
Though. Yeah. Sometimes this does translate onto the field. Can’t stay in one place for too long, once knocked an enemy soldier out by barreling into him. He’s a quick shot, skillful with any weapon that falls into his hands, but his focus can get a little skewed.
He collects some things. Nothing exactly pricy, but antique knives, coins, and a pocket watch or two. And he isn’t the most apt at putting things together in an appealing way… The first time you’re allowed into his house it looks like he’s robbed some vintage hunting shop/is planning something nefarious with the way he’s just got a few daggers strewn about his kitchen table. Just push them to the side, it’s fine! (His favorite is certainly one with a handle carved from a stag’s antler.)
Definitely takes a physical approach to bad feelings. @melancholic-thing mentioned to me that he bites himself when he’s feeling dejected or frustrated and yeah. (All of Ghost’s hcs for him are factually correct.) Not going to punch a hole through the wall but may aggressively slam a door or raise his voice before he can catch himself.
I have many thoughts about König’s childhood/early adulthood. Like, too many. But to summarize…
I think that everyone experiences bullying to an extent but what would make it so bad that it managed to make its way into the scraps that we do have of him? What made him so fundamentally unlikable to his peers? /: With my König I’ve settled on it being a blend of neurodivergency and a nightmare home life and alienation from his peers.
Height is predominantly viewed as a good trait. I don’t think it was necessarily his appearance at all that got him picked on so heavily (albeit… I do think that he would have had some scars, crooked teeth, regular facial bruising or cuts from scraps with other children/his father). Perhaps not the most conventionally attractive guy around, but normally viewed as a solid 5/10, just average. The kind of person who you wouldn’t remember from just a face alone.
His personality was always memorable though.
Whilst the other children/teenagers were interested in the regular trends, sports, whatever was shown on the television or heard on the radio at the time, I think he probably would have had a great interest in escapism!!
Comics, books, researching history and geography, etc, anything that could keep him from thinking of where he was/what other people viewed him as. He had a lot of strange things to say: odd facts (like the kind of person to tell you the longest word in the dictionary because he thinks it’s cool, “um actually—“ to correct something, monologuing about some bug you’ve just squashed and how it was not just a pest but very useful in nature, borderline concerning reactions to being shunned (feigned threats of violence that he would laugh off, things he’s probably heard from media and his own parents), over explaining himself for the simplest of misunderstandings, and… quoting his Oma’s very old-fashioned turns of phrase (think of little Kö regularly saying “Du gehst mir tierisch auf den Keks.” when he’s annoyed whereas the others say things far less dated like “Du gehst mir auf den Sack.”)
With him being difficult to relate to and having the most uncanny things slip out of his mouth, others probably did view him as a bit of a freak. He didn’t particularly stand up for himself often either apart from a few fights (and would never hit a girl). He would stay quiet, pretend to focus on his studies or whatever else was before him while the other children jeered and taunted. Regularly a target for fake confessions and offers to hang out outside of school, too.
König did have crushes, did have people he thought were cool and wanted to befriend, but after the third time of showing up someplace that he had to walk to on his own to find that no one had actually wanted to spend their time with him, he gave up.
I don’t think he had a good relationship with his parents or much of anyone. Seriously, leaving for the military at seventeen sets off a ton of alarm bells! He left the week of his Oma’s passing, because what else was there for him — no girlfriend, no prospects, hardly a relationship with his mother or father.
His father was your standard shit parent— womanizing, loud, physically abusive towards König. “Bonding” activities with him always had a heavy lean towards violence: hunting and arguing that usually resulted in fist fighting his own son seemed to be his favorites. A small man with an equally small ego— he probably would have boasted about his affairs to König, exposed him to pornography as a way of making sure his son wasn’t anything other than straight (which: never stopped his curiosity). He would never hold back from telling König that he would never in a million years find a girl willing to put up with his supposed stupidity and shortcomings. Generally just viewed his own son as utterly worthless if not for use as a punching bag.
In turn, König always loathed him, would dread hearing the bastard just walking around the house because he knew he would always find something to bicker with his wife or son over. Nothing that they ever did would be deemed correct, and his social anxiety initially developed from his dealings with him.
His mother was withdrawn, emotionally neglectful. König was just… there to her; another mouth to feed, another person begging for the attention she would have rather spared on herself.
She wasn’t a bad mother and she did try, but the product of dealing with his father’s nonsense + letting her own mental illness go unchecked (as in, his father controlled the family financially and why would he let her blow through their funds to see a therapist and “lose her lucidity with pills and ridiculous talks”). There were some days when she would be feeling more like herself and take König along with her for walks through the park where she would try to ask him about his life, about school, and… he would end up spilling his guts to her only for her to return to silence. Still, those were his favorite days. His fondest memory was picking a flower for her on one of those walks, one that she kept pressed and later framed.
There were never family dinners, no movie nights, no day trips or vacations. The most blissful of days were spent in the comfort of his room where he could keep the door locked and muffle the sounds of his parents arguing with loud music.
So, König did not have much of a safe space within his own home, but he had his Oma and her cluttered little house. She had books and plenty of food, even a cat, too. Though she was like his mother, stern and withdrawn, she would at least sit with him and tell him stories of her own life. She would at least tell him “Ich lieb dich, Käferchen!” in her quiet voice, stroke his head where he would sit with his nose buried in a book beside her. She would show him her dusty antiques, her old photographs, and in turn taught him to be a proper man by making him tend to what needed to be done around her house. And the garden. He loved his Oma’s garden, full of orchids, petunias, and tomatoes she would mash up to make him goulash or tomatensalat!
With Austria’s leading religion being Catholicism, I do think his Oma would have dragged him with her to service plenty, too. Not that he ever particularly enjoyed it… just zoned out with a plastic soldier in his pocket to fidget with or some trading card he spent the money he earned doing chores for her on. He’s never considered himself religious, thought himself to be bound for Hell no matter what, even if most of the time he felt that he was already there.
You take a puppy that’s been beaten down his entire life, but still remains eager and throw him in a barrack with people more horrible than any bully he’s ever had, though…? He starts taking his father’s advice more and more then. He wouldn’t harm anyone that he didn’t view as deserving of it, but it didn’t need to go that far that often, anyway. König is aware of the space he takes up by then, aware that all of his training has made him more broad and sturdy, and those playground fights are nothing compared to what he’s capable of now.
He gets his callsign from a quip about him owning nothing. His barrack is empty, devoid of pictures or any sentimental belongings. He rarely checks his phone, there might be the occasional missed call from a spam number, what is there to even see? He has no social media presence, every leave is spent in a shitty apartment only a days travel from his hometown, and he is utterly silent when the other soldiers invite him out for drinks. So yes, he’s a king. The king of absolutely nothing.
One of these rowdy boys does eventually coax him into talking to a woman. He loses his virginity in a disgusting bar bathroom, where he asks her after the two minutes he’s spent inside of her if it means anything to her at all. She laughs, washes herself in the sink and calms him down, but doesn’t give him her number or anything more than her first name.
He’s starved for love, utterly miserable without it, but doesn’t have much of a desire to seek it out, either. He’s seen how people are, how they treat him. But time and time again he will grapple onto any thread that may lead him to a pinhole of hope when it’s offered to him. For the most part, he has his hand and a perpetually almost-empty bottle of lotion.
And it’s not much of a surprise that König has contemplated suicide more times than he can count. It has never culminated in any way, only fearing that he would disappoint his men, even further disappoint his parents, maybe even a small part of him still believes in a Hell; that maybe with enough vigilantism on his part he’ll earn his way to a pleasant afterlife, one he teeters on the separation of believing in and not.
He doesn’t think about his mental health, always haunted by his father’s words, thinking that assuredly it would make him weak if he were to seek help for something like his own thoughts. So he overexerts himself during workouts, bottles everything other than rage and love inside: no one is going to see him cry, not ever again after being laughed at for him hundreds of times during school where he sat being called an “ugly giant” a “daydreaming freak” and an “idiot” near daily where silent tears did escape, only spurring further laughter.
Though I do not write him with these things in mind for every au, there are always subtle hints scattered about. ^^ I could probably prattle on forever about him, but I will leave you with this for now…
146 notes
·
View notes
Note
thinking of this
but also thinking of a somewhat hilarious scenario of neteyam faintly remembering jake awkwardly teaching him and lo'ak the many ways humans can pleasure a woman and so neteyam asks if he can put it into practice (oral, f receiving) and eventhough he's a bit awkward at first he gets spurred on by the praises (neteyam 100% has a praise kink) he's getting, so like the overachiever that he is, he pays attention to the reader's advice and teaching but also the smallest signs from her body that he's doing good
and staying true to his golden boy title, he's actually fucking good at it in first try
maybe this scenario dump can be.. the next part of the series? 👀 all up to you bae <3 ily
part II of my inexperienced neteyam series x
part I (x)
..because the gift of reciprocation can not only be learnt, but returned... many times fold. ;)
wc: 1.6k words
warnings: 18+, minors dni (smut, oral - f receiving, fingering), cursing, strong language
It is a very well known fact among the clan, among his family, and among everyone who knew him, that Neteyam was the best at anything he put his mind to. Not because he was necessarily intrinsically good at everything, but because he always gave every challange a good college try. So after your first... lesson, one which blew Neteyam's mind and soul out of his body, that left him panting and whimpering and desperately needing more, he knew he wanted to be the best at this, too. The best. Your best.
This new all-consuming desire brought back memories, of being a little younger and more innocent, and having to sit through his father's sex ed lessons that he dreaded then, but now came to have a certain... appreciation for. He remembers faintly his father telling him how women have something called a clitoris, and how, if properly stimulated, can allow a girl to experiences unsurmoutable waves of pleasure, and that the best way to do it... is by putting your money where your mouth is... or in this case, putting your mouth where the jackpot is.
It was a sunny and calming day as you were basking in the sun rays that were peering in between the branches of the tall trees surrounding you, and you hummed quietly to yourself in muted contentment, Neteyam laying peacefully in your lap. He loved these moments, between friends who weren't quite friends, the undefined mystery of your relationship one he was dying to solve with every little clue that presented itself to him. The clue today was the soft, flowery scent that you emanated, that flooded his nostrils and his entire being, that begged to be smelled and felt, to be tasted and enjoyed like a ripe fruit on a summer's day.
"I want to learn." he blurts out, having to readjust his head a little as you rose from your position on the grass, your upper body now propped on your elbows, a taunting eyebrow raised and a small smirk blossoming on your face.
"Oh, yeah? And what would you like to learn, Neteyam?"
Ever since that first lesson, you struggled a little, keeping your composure around your friend. Somehow, your dynamic didn't really change, which you were thankful for, but you didn't want to push your luck, so you've waited... waited for him to make the first move, waited for him to decide whether your earlier... lapse in judgement was just that, or something more, something worth repeating. But it's been tough, knowing what you knew now, knowing what hid under his loincloth, knowing you could be showing him all the ways that he could fuck you dumb, the way you wanted, the way you needed... the way you craved. It's been particularly hard today, as his head was rested on your lap, the pressure on your groin leaving you a inadvertent flustered, wet mess. So while his words took you by surprise, it was a welcome surprise, one that you would make sure to enjoy every second of.
"You showed me... how good it can feel, how good you can make me feel. I want to learn... how good I can make you feel." he turned around, so his face was now facing your loincloth, and he pressed a small kiss over it, in between your thighs. You felt yourself clench around nothing and it took everything out of you not to moan at the gesture. You were surprised that he knew enough to ask for this, but excited to learn yourself what other secrets... and skills Neteyam was keeping from you.
"Alright. Let's see. Women, we... enjoy the build-up, the moments leading up to an orgasm maybe just as much as the actual act itself. So start slow... take your time, with caresses and gentle touc-... argh, fuck!" the feel of his tongue on your inner thigh tingled and burned, sending shocks through your system at the unfamiliar feeling, at the way he didn't even let you finish before he tried it for himself, before he already did something right. He positioned himself in between your legs, his head dangerously close to the area you most wanted him in, that he most wanted to be in. He was eager, so eager, and you were happy, as you always were that Neteyam was a dutiful student and masterful learner.
"Like this?" his soft caresses up and down your thighs, accompanied by small, peppered kisses on your lower abdomen were enough to make you pant in anticipation, enough to make the words hushed and breathy, enough to make you want to arch your back to give him better access to your body.
"Y-yes. Like that. Take off my tewng, Teyam. I don't think I'll need it anymore."
He did as he was told, skilled hands hooking in the fabric and undoing it until it was just a mess on the ground, like you hoping you would be soon. His breath hitched in his throat at your sight, at your plump, soaked folds, so soft, so new, so enticing... just like a ripened fruit on a warm summer's day. He only had one thought that reigned above all others, an unadulterated desire to taste you, to lap at the juices that smelled like all his best, wildest dreams come true, so that's what he did. And he realised quickly he must be doing something right when you moaned, your head pushed backwards and chest heaving erratically.
You tasted as good as you smelled, and Neteyam knew instantly he would not be able to live without this feeling, the feeling of your sweetness coating his tongue, of seeing your eyes roll in the back of your head, of the power that came with knowing only he got to see you like this, only he got to have his head in between your thighs and hear the sounds you made when he did.
"Imagine you're kissing someone's lips. Imagine you were kissing me, and it was amazing, and it felt intimate, and good, imagine you want to deepen the kiss, you want to make it last. Imagine that, and then do the same. Kiss me like you mean it, Teyam. Kiss me like you love me. Slowly, gently at first, wild and untamed later."
He let out a growl at your words, and how primal the way his body reacted to them was. He was hard now, rock hard, and he started slowly grinding on the ground to relief some of the overbearing pressure he was feeling. Once again, he was obediently attentive to your words, egged on by the filthy, nasty, beautiful sounds coming out of your pretty mouth, that he couldn't wait give the same treatment to, because fuck, he did mean it, and he did love you. And he would show you in any and every way he knew how, in any and every way he would soon learn, in any way you were willing to show him.
To say you were impressed with your friend would be the understatement of the century, as you were struggling to see straight with the way his tongue glided over your folds, the way he kissed and licked and sucked exactly in the way you wanted and needed, like he had a direct influx to your thoughts, to your body, like he knew it instinctively, like he was born to do this, born to know how to fuck you.
"I need you in me, Teyam. Fuck! I need -.. I need your fingers."
"My fingers?"
"Y-yeah, please! Two fingers, please, Teyam!"
This was no longer a lesson for him, you realised faintly, as it was a desperate attempt to give yourself the release that was so close you can practically touch it, see it, taste it. You didn't expect to cum today, or not for a while, as you taught him the convoluted and often contradictory ways of pleasuring a woman, but here you were, a writhing mess, grinding on his face, begging for more, to be filled by something else than the cock you dreamt about, that you knew you would get drunk on, that you were saving for a different lesson.
The stretch of his long, slender fingers was delicious and oh, so needed, and you squirmed under him at the added stimulation. You were close, and he could tell.
"You can slowly pump your fingers in and out of me... just like that, fuck!"
"Do I make you feel good, tìyawn?" you couldn't tell anymore if he was genuinely asking as a curiosity or because he knew that it would drive you crazy, but right now, you didn't care.
"Do I make you feel as good as you make me feel? Fuck, thinking of your pretty mouth around my cock, how well you felt as you sucked me dry, I just want to make you feel the same way."
"Y-yes, yes, shit! It feels so good, Teyam!"
Your hand found his hair that you entangled with your fingers, pushing his face down until it made contact with your clit, and he smirked as he circled it and sucked on it, continuing to move in and out of you and when, whether out of pure luck or inherent knowledge, he curled his fingers in exactly the right spot, you came, a loud, violent crash of current washing over you, electrifying your every nerve, rippling through your whole body, leaving you a limp, deeply satisfied mess on the ground, just like you wanted to be, like you hoped you would one day be.
"I'm definitely doing that again." he says with a smile, your slick covering his mouth, nose and chin, and you laughed, the insanity of the situation not lost on you, even in your state.
As you were laying on his chest, peering up at the sun once more, you realise you both learned something today. Neteyam learned how to give you head, and you learned that some things can't be taught, and that he really was indeed, good at everything.
taglist: @fanboyluvr @theycallmesia
#༊*·˚ andra's works#✎ andra's requests#neteyam#neteyam x human!reader#neteyam x reader#neteyam fanfic#neteyam reader#neteyam sully#avatar#avatar twow#avatar fanfic#neteyam x avatar!reader#neteyam sully fanfiction#neteyam angst#awow#awow neteyam#neteyam smut#neteyam x y/n#avatar way of water#neteyam x reader smut#neteyam x you#neteyam drabble#avatar drabble#avatar x reader
728 notes
·
View notes
Note
More older boyfriend Sukuna? This is masterpiece!
: ̗̀➛ went off the rails after his divorce—embracing a life of nihilism with all the regency of an arrogant king. sukuna took his own personal vows—one, to never ever be fucking foolish enough to marry again. two, show no mercy. the world was his and he hated it.
: ̗̀➛ meeting and becoming infatuated with you wasn't lovely at first—it reminded sukuna of a natural disaster; the earth at her most violent and unexpected, uncaring of who came her way. it struck him amongst his life of debauchery; in the whirlwind of lust, greed, and violence, he took bloody steps towards an angel who looked up at him through pretty lashes.
: ̗̀➛ like a king, he took what he wanted. sukuna captured the crystalline gem out of everyone's reach; the morning light that gleamed with warmth in the frost of winter.
: ̗̀➛ sukuna is shamelessly greedy, so once you give yourself to him he’ll practically consume you with his passion. it reminds you of flames, or a natural disaster—and you can’t explain why it makes you feel so alive. why the love of a man like sukuna is the sweetest you’ve ever known. (you both compare the other to natural disasters).
: ̗̀➛ enjoys when you’re a little possessive over him, thinks it’s cute. a nasty part of him wants to push you and see how far it’d go. for fun.
: ̗̀➛ wouldn’t hesitate to kill his ex-wife if she ever tried to mess with you (and I think she would). the question is if you ever find out that he’s done so, and if you’d care that he choked the life out the woman he previously promised his loyalty to. hint: you don't, and he falls even deeper for it.
: ̗̀➛ he likes when you fall asleep on his lap before bed. your gentle and peaceful breathing settles his heart a little; it tames him for just a moment. you constantly remind him that life is never truly dull.
: ̗̀➛ sukuna is a wayward man so he can't stay in one place too long—the world is too vast. it's not getaways that he takes you to, you two live in mansions throughout the world. when your glasses clink, you often think of the malevolence that the man before you brings. it should unsettle you, but the toothy grin he sends your way only quickens the beat of your heart. you love sukuna with your entire being.
: ̗̀➛ sukuna has murmured poetry into your soft skin more than once. you don’t know this, but the verses that leave his lips are off the top of his head. he’s not reciting anyone else’s words—they’re all born out of his love for you.
: ̗̀➛ he's not a jealous man at all. sukuna is the most secure man you've ever met. he openly laughs at anyone trying to make a move on you right before crushing them.
: ̗̀➛ morning sex, very late night sex, and public sex are his favorite. he simultaneously likes having you when the world is muted and quiet, but also wants you when life is buzzing all around and doesn’t care who’d stumble upon you. you’ve been walked in on and caught more than once but sukuna never stops. he makes sure they know that he’s aware and doesn’t care—sukuna just continues fucking his wet cock into your tight cunt.
: ̗̀➛ off to the races by lana del rey is the anthem to this au.
: ̗̀➛ even ardently in love, sukuna is not a soft man. there are lapses, sure, but he is still him at his core. still, you're sukuna's entire soul. the little lady who can mouth off to him with no consequences. his morning light.
#this is a little rushed i'm sorry but i hope you like anon <3#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#jjk x reader#jjk smut#sukuna ryomen#starring: sukuna
828 notes
·
View notes
Text
Choice Encounters
summary your relationship with billy was rocky. on and off. hot and cold. you hadn’t looked to steve so much as an option but more as a convenient place holder. but now you’ve quickly found yourself in a heated situation. their competitiveness threatening to pull you in opposite directions.
warnings cursing, smut™, lil bit angsty, teen-dream drama, degradation, praise, competitive/opposing dynamics, spicy
word count 2,927
note i tried to look through some of the existing threesome fics with this pairing a. there’s not a lot of them (disappointment), and b. the running dynamic in a lot of them tends to pair billy and steve in a mutual partnership aimed at the reader a lot of the time, but i really like the competitive streak they both have so... reading this request i just really wanted to lean into that hard.
like painfully so... and it made me like gleefully think of the tiktok audios where the man says “don’t look at him. why’re you looking at him? look at me. he’s not gonna help you...” and just think of billy with that mentality during this kind of interaction.
prompt - “So Imagine This you and Billy had a toxic relationship and when y’all have a break you fucked Steve to piss them off and he ends up finding out and he gets mad so he confronts Steve and he says meet me at my house at seven and he tells you meet him at the same time and you know what happens (Degrading if you can from billy and praise kink from Steve)”
As always any feedback is much appreciated. Thanks for reading!
It had been a week.
A week since the fighting match erupted in the halls. All eyes on the pair of you.
Billy burning rubber out of the school parking lot, leaving you standing there the victor.
Feeling heartsick and guilty. Proud and powerful. Awful beyond recognition.
You wanted the earth to swallow you whole.
You swore you had no idea why you put up with his tirades time after time.
Maybe it was because you loved him, you weren’t entirely sure that was the case on some days...
But this time you pushed back, bringing your own words to this knife fight.
Like a seawall he crashed upon you. Trying to drown and wash you out with the tide.
You stood through it, gritting your teeth. And you hit. Low. Lower than you probably should have.
You knew better than to weaponize such things against him, but you were tired of being the punching bag.
Of being whittled away and worn down with each storm.
You bit back, and now you were paying for it.
You were miserable. Listless and lonely.
If you weren’t so stubborn you’d have buckled immediately and run to apologize.
But every time you’d see him in the hall, longingly your eyes would meet for a fleeting moment, only for your resolve to rekindle.
The anger swelling in your chest, cheeks heating, as you stalked away.
You’d sooner die before he’d see you grovel for forgiveness. But that didn’t change how much you missed him.
How much you longed to be back in his arms. Feeling his lips upon yours.
You supposed it was a momentary lapse in judgment.
Your mind consumed by thoughts of both avoidance and yearning for Billy that made you say ‘yes’.
As you found yourself sitting in Steve Harrington’s passenger seat, having agreed to come over and study for a calculus test.
His house was huge but impersonal. Cold and quiet. Not a single object out of place.
It was nothing like Billy’s place.
Sitting on his bed, you aimlessly scribbled out another equation. Nothing was sticking in your head.
Pinching your nose you tossed down your pencil in frustration.
“None of this shit makes any sense!” you grumbled impatiently.
“Which part?” Steve brought over his notes from the desk and sat next to you.
“This... all of it. I don’t know.” you wanted to rip the page out of your notebook and start all over.
Looking over your work, Steve chewed the end of his pencil in thought.
“I think you messed up here...” he pointed to the ‘x’ further up in the equation.
You followed his finger, it still made no sense. You had pretty much given up on passing this class with anything more than a C.
“God I hate math...” you huffed running the eraser through the equation.
Steve chuckled. “Me too.”
He looked at you. Your eyes meeting.
That big dopey grin on his face... and you just couldn’t help yourself.
You kissed him.
The textbooks were quickly abandoned to the floor. Along with your clothes.
And for the first time in over a week, Billy was no longer on your mind.
It was amazingly freeing. And surprisingly you didn’t feel nearly as guilty as you thought you should about the whole ordeal.
A few days later you were even smiling. Standing at your locker putting away your books when a loud bang on the row of lockers startled you half out of your skin.
“Jesus!” you dropped the book in your hand.
Peering around your locker door you met Billy’s gaze blazing into you.
You steeled yourself.
“What do you want?” you sniped, picking up your book and dusting it off.
He wriggled his nose in annoyance, as if he was still carefully selecting the words he wanted to say.
“I want you over tonight.” he demanded.
“And I want to be Miss America.” you quipped in irritation, closing your locker to walk away.
He clamped a hand around your wrist, reigning you in close.
“This isn’t a fuckin’ debate.” he warned, “be there by seven.”
You searched his eyes, it wasn’t entirely clear if this was an invitation to make up or if it was a ham-handed attempt to apologize.
But what you did know was that you didn’t dare push your luck and skip out.
“Ok. I’ll be there.... now are you gonna let me go or do you want to come with to Home Ec?” you rattled your wrist feebly.
He let go of you, watching you through furrowed brows until you disappeared into your classroom.
Out on the basketball court Billy gave Steve one of the hardest practice runs he’d had in ages.
Ignoring the coach’s whistle several times when shouldering him out and hovering in at close range to steal the ball from the offense.
He brazenly tripped Steve, stealing the ball to pass to Tommy.
Leaning in he innocently offered Steve his hand.
Steve initially didn’t take it, he’d learned this lesson before in the fall.
The coach blew the whistle. Practice was over.
Billy’s hand was still outstretched, the game was over. Maybe it was safe.
He took it, Billy gripping him harshly and dragging him in close so only Steve would hear him.
“You and I need to chat, Pretty Boy. My place at seven.”
He carelessly tossed Steve back to the ground, stepping over him and heading for the locker room.
You sat in your driveway idling. You didn’t want to go. It occurred to you that maybe there was another reason he wanted you over... and it wouldn’t be a pleasant one.
Did he know?
How could he have known? He’d been avoiding you all week.
Dread was sinking into your veins as you backed down the driveway and crawled your way to Cherry Street. Maybe if you went so slowly he wouldn’t be there when you arrived.
No such luck.
The camaro was on the curb when you got there.
There was another car. Odd. Billy never had other company when you were over.
It was just the two of you.
You squinted, but couldn’t make out the make or color in the dark.
“Ya gonna take all night?!” he barked at you from the open door.
You coyly sidled your way up to the porch. Hands tucked behind your back.
Cigarette nestled between his lips, he looked at you impatiently.
“Yer late.” he snapped.
“Sorry.”
He snorted, taking in a puff as you passed inside, ducking under his arm.
Walking into his bedroom, you froze mid-step.
Steve was sitting on his couch, thumbing through a book. A discontented look on his face.
Looking up his eyes softened as they met yours.
Oh... he knew alright. And your ass was grass.
Turning on your heels, you walked right into a hard chest.
“And just where’dya think yer goin’?” Billy’s large hands clasping both of your arms.
“H-home...” you said trying to wiggle free, avoiding his eyes.
“Not a chance” he snarled.
Gripping you under the chin, he forced your eyes up. Blowing smoke in your your face, making you cough.
“Little birdy told me ya’ve been busy this week.” he spoke in a low tone.
“Oh...?” you asked dumbly.
You were in for it. But .... why was Steve here? And why was he still breathing?
His hold tightened, growing impatient.
“Don’t toy with me, slut!” your eyes shot wide, washing over his features.
A small smirk was growing at the edge of his lips, cigarette dangling.
Was this some sort of game you hadn’t been told about?
You looked at Steve questioningly, he looked concerned, hands fisted in the cushion. But he was far from intervening.
“Don’t look at him!” Billy shook you, “Why’re you looking at him?”
“Look at me.” the deep timbre of his voice turned sickly sweet. “He’s not gonna help you.”
You swallowed, your throat running dry. Your mind was running wild.
“I was...” you answered cautiously.
“With who, slut?” Billy coaxed, his grip on your arm loosening.
“Steve” you said barely above a whisper.
You went to look at Steve, only to have your gaze dragged back to Billy.
His stare was searing. Drawing heat to your core, your cheeks flushing.
“What was that?” he taunted, leaning in.
“S-steve.” you squeaked out.
He nodded in acknowledgment, releasing you. Plucking his cigarette from his lips to hold.
“I dunno.” he tutted, “this whole situation...I dunno... with Harrington...?”
He looked at you both.
He waved his hand in a nonchalant gesture, pulling a short draw off his smoke.
“I leave ya alone for a week and I find out yer sleepin’ around...with him” he shot you a strict look.
You stared at the floor, bashfully.
Stamping out his cig in the ashtray, Billy chuckled.
“Can’t last a week without me? What. A. Little. Slut!” he enunciated the last words.
Steve rose from his position on the couch, coming to your aid.
“Billy that’s enough!”
Billy smiled darkly, tongue darting out and licking his lips.
“What’s this Harrington? Gonna steal my girl out from under me?” he laughed, closing in the space between you.
The room was getting hot. The atmosphere shifting. Electrifying and dangerous.
Billy pressed you up against Steve’s chest. Steve protectively wrapping an arm around your waist.
Billy looked you over with a predatory gaze.
“Whadd’ya think sweetheart?” he ran a finger over your lips, “Wanna see who yer the bigger slut for?”
Steve attempted to protest, but chewed his lip heavily when you tilted your head back locking eyes with him.
Big doe eyes, hooded and lust blown. Looking up at him pleadingly.
“You sure?” he asked. You nodded enthusiastically.
“Yes.” you breathed, desperately.
He was sold.
Ducking his head he pulled you into a hot kiss, hands playing with the hem of your shirt.
“Such a dirty girl!” Billy exclaimed, shutting the door watching you two start in.
It wasn’t long before he pushed his way in, tugging your shirt up over your head.
Stealing your lips away from Steve in the moment, Billy pulled a moan from you as he bit your lower lip harshly. Forcing his tongue inside your mouth.
Steve huffed in irritation at your absence, running soft open mouthed kisses along the length of your neck as he busied his hands with the clasp of your bra.
Sliding it from your shoulders, a hand coming up to claim your breast. Fingers deftly pinching and rolling the sensitive nipple to a hardened peak before shifting their attention to the other one.
You whined out at the contact, rolling your hips back against him.
He hissed softly. The friction of your movements brushing his hardening arousal at just the right angle.
Prying Billy out of his white button up, he quickly peeled you out of your shorts. Taking your panties along with them in one swift motion.
Steve ripped his polo off trying to catch up, stealing a small kiss from you in the process.
Hooking your leg over his shoulder, Billy looked up at you fiendishly. You heart racing, as he pressed his face to your sex.
You leaned your weight into Steve’s torso for support, his hands wandering across the soft skin of your stomach.
Billy’s tongue ran over your clit in flat, harsh stripes, paired with intermittent teasing nips.
“Look at you...” he teased, sliding a finger to just the first knuckle inside of you.
He slapped your pussy, making you cry out. Steve placing curative kisses across the width of your shoulder.
“Only whores are this wet...” he droned on, sinking his finger in deeper and twisting it.
Your knees buckled, Steve steadying you as Billy’s lips returned to your mound.
Your head falling back to Steve’s shoulder, his lips meeting yours once more as Billy worked you mercilessly. Adding a second finger, drawing forward and curling them against that pad of muscle inside you.
Your toes were curling, back arching to meet his every caress, you were coming apart at the seams.
“Billy...” you whined pathetically.
“Not yet.” he warned darkly, pressing his thick tongue against your clit and dragging it as slowly as possible from bottom to top.
“Billy!” you pressed urgently, Steve was supporting nearly all of your weight. You felt near collapse.
He pulled off. Swatting your swollen cunt.
Your muscles were so close to spasming, your hips starting to jut in small involuntary motions.
Billy was enraged.
Snatching you from Steve’s grasp, he pulled you to his face.
“I said not yet slut.” he growled, hand clasping around your neck.
You nodded taking a deep breath, trying your best to settle out. It was hard.
He held you there, studying your expression as you brought yourself back under better control.
Satisfied he picked you up and tossed you onto his bed.
Shedding his jeans he crawled on top of you.
“Over the edge...” he instructed, as Billy backed you across the bed until your head hung over the foot of it.
“Ya comin’ Harrington?” he ground out, waving a hand. Steve gaping at your interaction with the blonde.
Did you always like it this rough? He never would have guessed it from how your first time with him had been.
Stepping out of his remaining clothes, Steve came to the foot of the bed.
You rested your hands against his thighs, stroking the skin with your thumbs.
He looked down at you, his cock twitching. You had the most pleasant of smiles on your face.
He couldn’t believe it.
Running his cock through your folds, Billy teased his head at your entrance.
“Remember slut... focus.” he pushed into you, angling your hips up and draping your legs over his shoulders.
You keened loudly as he bottomed out, your eyes falling out of focus as your fingers dug into Steve’s thighs.
Billy slapped your breasts, several strokes into you and Steve was still unattended.
“What did I just say?” Billy warned, snapping his hips, curls bouncing.
Nodding, you tilted your head back off the edge of the bed, opening your mouth.
Tentatively, Steve brought his dick to your waiting mouth.
“Fuuuuuck” he huffed as your lips wrapped around him, pulling him in inch by inch.
You let your jaw fall slack, as Steve set his own pace gently thrusting his length down your throat.
“That’s a good girl.” he purred, his hand clasping over top of yours on his thigh.
“Fuckin’ slut” Billy interjected, hand pulling your hips closer.
“Just look at you. Split open on two cocks.” his pace was picking up.
With each thrust he was driving you up against Steve’s cock. Sending him deeper down your throat.
“Nasty lil slut. You really like this... don’t ya?” Billy growled, hitting that spot inside you.
You moaned out, sending Steve’s heading rolling back.
“G-god... baby!” his hips stuttered at the feeling of hitting the back of your throat. Trying your best to suppress your gag, making the squeeze all the tighter as he thrust.
You weren’t going to last much longer, reaching out with your one free hand, you futilely scraped at Billy’s stomach. Words not at your disposal.
“What’s that?” Billy chided, “gettin close?”
You pressed your hand flat against him, trying to ward him off. It was coming hard and fast. You weren’t going to keep it away this time.
His pace was becoming bruising. Each connection reaching your cervix, drawing muffled screams from your throat and spurring curses and blessings to tumble from Steve’s lips.
“S’okay baby. Yer doin so good for me...” Steve was cradling the back of your neck as his thrusts grew more erratic.
Billy smirked, feeling you begin to pulse around him. His own end coming soon. He knew the ultimate way to win.
Freeing a hand, he snaked it between your bodies, pressing his thumb roughly against your clit.
You were already on the cliff’s edge but boy was he going to give you one hell of a shove.
With the pressure of his finger, he almost entirely withdrew only to slam back inside you. Hitting your cervix with a bruising impact.
Billy threw his head forward, grinding into you. His climax hitting, filling you with his seed.
You screamed, back arching and muscles locking out. You did all that you could to prevent from hurting Steve. Wrapping your lips over your teeth as your orgasm hit you and your jaw clenched.
“Shit! Shhhhiiiiiitttt!” Steve groaned, your mouth becoming tighter than a vice as his own high hit, the head of his cock secured against your tongue.
A lewd moan falling from his lips as he pulsed, thick spurts of cum squirting down your throat. You choked trying to accommodate the load.
After a few more moments your body relaxed, Steve pulling himself free.
“I’m so sorry...” you sputtered, breathlessly.
“It’s ok....” Steve heaved, brushing a finger over your cheek, “wasn’t your fault....”
He glared over at Billy, still lazily seated inside you. A smug expression on his face.
Pulling out, Billy threw his legs over the side of the bed and reached for the pack of cigarettes, pulling the zippo off the nightstand.
You weren’t entirely sure if you could trust yourself to move just yet.
The lighter clicked shut, the smell of tobacco entering the air.
“Well sweetheart?” Billy thrummed, exhaling.
Rolling on your side you looked at him, “Hmmm?”
“Which one?” he pressed motioning to himself and then Steve.
You grimaced.
You didn’t think he was being serious.
“Who fucked ya better?” he cooed, running a hand up your leg.
#stranger things smut#billy hargrove smut#steve harrington smut#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things oneshot#stranger things#stranger things x reader#stranger things x you#stranger things x y/n#billy hargrove#steve harrington#billy hargove imagine#billy hargrove headcanon#billy hargrove fanfiction#billy hargrove oneshot#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington headcanon#steve harrington oneshot#steve harrington x reader#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove x you#steve harrington x you#billy hargrove x y/n#steve harrington x y/n
908 notes
·
View notes
Text
couldn't reply without subordinate clauses
>> READ IT ON AO3 HERE
summary: Kakyoin needs help with his English, and who better to help him than someone like Jotaro, who’s been speaking it his whole life? It’s the perfect solution.
…but someone really should have warned Kakyoin about how much time he’d have to spend looking at Jotaro’s mouth, ‘cause he’s not sure how much more of this he can take.
(or: kakyoin and jotaro learn to use their words.)
-
notes: disclaimer: i don’t speak japanese, which is why you will notice that none of this fic is actually in japanese. all references to japanese grammar and phonology are correct to the best of my knowledge but i recognize that there may be mistakes. however, i DO know a lot about teaching english as a second language and if my advisor somehow finds this, sorry for misrepresenting the field but in my defense this is anime fanfiction
dedicated not only to the jojo crew (@thesmalbox and @drawbucket) as per usual but ALSO to @pechebeche for just sort of coincidentally getting into jojo at the same time as me and always being down to scream about jotakak and/or phonetics with me. all three a’y’all are awesome.
title is from the collection’s “spark of hope”, which does remind me of jotaro but mostly i just like the silly pun.
Kakyoin Noriaki helped kill a homicidal vampire when he was seventeen years old with nothing but a bunch of tentacles, but looking at the table in front of him, covered in various indecipherable sheets of paper, he thinks that might have been easier than this.
He fucking hates English.
Kakyoin is, objectively, pretty intelligent, if you ignore the multiple massive lapses in judgment that have led to him a) being half-blind in both eyes, b) being maybe a little bit in love with the guy who by extension is the reason he’s half-blind in both eyes, and c) following said guy to America for college because he just does that now, apparently. Something about Jotaro makes him incredibly, impressively stupid. Stupid enough to follow him across Southeast Asia, and now, stupid enough to try and teach himself a new language because they’re so horribly codependent now that the idea of Jotaro moving to America and Kakyoin not going was ridiculous. Ridiculous enough that Kakyoin was able to ignore the fact that he barely speaks English when making the decision.
And oh, he’s regretting it now. Not enough to not go, of course, but enough that he’s given up on the actual learning bit and is now glaring daggers at the worksheets spread out in front of him, all in an easy-to-read font for his convenience.
He’s been in the public library for two hours, hiding in a secluded corner because he doesn’t need everyone to hear him talking to himself. He’s still trying to figure out what the fuck a progressive is and why there’s six different kinds of them when someone slides into the seat beside him and asks, “You still doing homework?”
His only response is a muffled groan from where his head is buried in his hands, which is thankfully met by a small huff of laughter from the boy beside him. “Yeah, kinda figured. Couldn’t find you at your place, so I thought you might be hanging out here.”
Kakyoin removes his head from his hands and offers Jotaro a pained look. “I’m fucking dying, Jotaro.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“I am not .”
Jotaro ignores that and continues to be unsympathetic to Kakyoin’s clear emotional distress. “Are you doing your English homework?” he asks, picking up one of the papers nearest to him.
Kakyoin gestures vaguely at the mess in front of him. “No, I’m doing my taxes.”
He makes a half-hearted noise of acknowledgment as he skims over the worksheet in his hand. “You got this wrong,” Jotaro says, pointing at an answer Kakyoin had written down about halfway down the paper. “It should be ‘have taken’.”
“Why ?”
“Because ‘had taken’ means it happened in the past.” Jotaro makes a mark on Kakyoin’s paper with a nearby pen.
“Isn’t that what ‘have taken’ means?” he asks helplessly.
“Yes. Well, sort of. It can be used for the past, but--”
“Then what’s the difference?” Kakyoin interrupts, his voice coming out as more of a petulant whine. Oh, if Dio could see him now. The boy so willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good, standing brave against insurmountable odds, undone by fucking verb tenses. How the mighty have fallen.
Jotaro stares at him, and he can’t tell if the blank expression is because Kakyoin’s missing something monumentally obvious here or because he also has no fucking clue what the difference is. “...One of them uses ‘have’ and the other uses ‘had’.”
Great. The second one, then.
Jotaro manages to dodge out of the way of the kick Kakyoin aims at his shin under the table, but he doesn’t manage to escape the smack to his shoulder immediately after. They’re both laughing, though. Thankfully.
(Kakyoin can’t get enough of Jotaro’s laugh. It was so rare when they were traveling, reserved only for the in-betweens in dingy hostels when no one else was listening. Something that a precious few people are allowed to hear. To be one of them is a privilege he will never take for granted.)
“I’m done with that,” Kakyoin declares, pushing that part of his homework away from him. He smiles at Jotaro hopefully. “Practice with me? I need to work on actually speaking out loud.”
"What do you want me to say?” Jotaro asks, and isn’t that a question.
“Just ask me about my day or something.” He figures this is safe territory, both because of his traitorous heart, which has started to speed up in his chest for what is truly no discernible reason, and his limited English experience. “Don't talk too fast though.”
“Alright.” Jotaro thinks for a moment, then says, "I'm just gonna ask you about yourself. That work?"
Kakyoin nods, and the other boy clears his throat and asks in English, “How old are you?”
“I am…” he trails off, struggling to remember the number. “Ten-eight--no, eighteen years. Old. I am eighteen years old,” he repeats, more confidently the second time. “How old are you?”
Jotaro stifles a laugh behind his hand as Kakyoin speaks, and he frowns. “What?” he asks, switching back to Japanese. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, no, it’s just. Your accent. It’s cute,” Jotaro says, and oh, he’s going to be thinking about that for months now. He has a way of offhandedly saying things that lodge themselves in Kakyoin’s brain and refuse to leave until he’s properly overanalyzed every part of them, and Jotaro calling his accent cute is--he doesn’t even know where to start with that. “Here, let me ask you something else. Where are you from?”
That one he knows for sure. “I am from Japan,” Kakyoin says in English, “What about you?”
“I’m from Japan, but my mom’s from America,” he answers. “It’s pronounced ‘am’ and ‘Japan’, by the way.”
Kakyoin narrows his eyes at Jotaro. “That’s what I said.”
“No, you said it like ‘Japan’. It should be ‘Japan’. ”
“Jotaro, I promise you that you just said the same thing twice.”
He groans, hand going to tug his hat down over his face. “No, look. Watch me say it.” He repeats the words again, exaggerating the vowels. This should be exceptionally easy for Kakyoin because it’s basically just Jotaro giving him permission to stare at his mouth (a thing that he does all the time anyway) but he just can’t seem to make out the difference Jotaro’s talking about. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s half-blind, maybe it’s his unfamiliarity with the language, but even when Jotaro says it both ways again to try and demonstrate he cannot figure out why what he said was wrong. He says as much to Jotaro, who pinches the bridge of his nose and says, “Just try and do it the way I’m saying it. I am from Japan.”
“I am from Japan,” he repeats, and Jotaro sighs. “I’m trying, I promise! They just sound the same to me.”
“No, it’s--” Jotaro cuts himself off, looking frustrated. “Just--ugh. This is going to sound super weird, but it might be easier if you touched me while I said it.”
Kakyoin has to physically restrain himself from saying yeah, sounds good immediately with no questions asked. He shoves that instinct down as deep as it will go and asks, “What do you mean?”
“Like. My face.” He touches his own, as if to say, like this, and yep. Yeah. Kakyoin does know what a face is, thank you, Jotaro. “You’re not moving your mouth right on some of the words. It might be easier if you just, like, felt me do it so that you could copy it.”
That’s not the worst idea. “Like this?” he says, reaching up and bracketing Jotaro’s mouth between his forefinger and thumb, letting the rest of his fingers rest gently against his chin. Jotaro nods. It must look ridiculous from an outside perspective, but it feels so intimate and personal that Kakyoin is pretty sure he’s going to die. What a lame way to go out, he thinks. Fifty days in the desert fending off stand users and vampires and my own damn feelings are what’s gonna kill me. He hopes they lie in his obituary. Heroically sacrificing himself to save the world is much cooler than dying ‘cause he’s too fucking gay to maintain any sort of physical contact with the guy he likes.
“I’m gonna say something and I want you to try and repeat it moving your mouth the same way I am.” Jotaro’s eyes have not left Kakyoin’s this entire time and he really, really hopes his face isn’t as red as it feels right now. At least he can chalk it up to the slightly awkward situation if he gets called out on it. “That make sense?”
His mouth is so fucking dry, which is. Great. He’s literally just touching his face. Not even in a romantic way. Just super platonic, educational face touching. “Yeah. I understand.”
“Cool. My name is Jotaro Kujo,” he says in English, “I am eighteen years old, and I am from Japan.” Kakyoin is now not only watching Jotaro’s impeccable jawline, he’s feeling it work under his fingers, and wait, he was supposed to be paying attention to the formation of the words. Fuck.
“My name is Kakyoin Noriaki, I am eighteen years old, and I am from Japan,” he repeats, trying to shape the words the same way he can feel Jotaro doing. “Right?”
“Right,” he confirms, and Kakyoin can feel his little half-smile at the same time he sees it appear. “You’re actually Noriaki Kakyoin in English, though. You would put your given name first.” Kakyoin nods. Maybe he should be taking notes, but that would mean not looking at Jotaro for any given amount of time and he doesn’t know how well he can manage that right now. “English says that you ‘are’ eighteen like we do, though,” Jotaro continues, “which is nice. Some languages say you ‘have’ eighteen years.”
Kakyoin furrows his brow, confused. “Why would you say you have eighteen years?”
Jotaro just shrugs. “Apparently that’s how you say it in French. Polnareff told me.” He glances down at Kakyoin’s hand where it’s still touching his face. “You can, uh. You can stop now.”
He yanks his hand back like Jotaro’s burned him. “Sorry! I wasn’t thinking.”
“Don’t apologize.”
“...sorry?”
Jotaro huffs, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “It’s fine. You did better that time, though. English has some weird vowels so I can’t blame you for not getting them right away.”
“I just don’t understand how you know all of this stuff,” he laments, slumping onto the table in front of him. “It’s really hard.”
“I learned it when I was a kid,” Jotaro explains. “It makes it a lot easier to pick up on the rules and stuff when you don’t have another language in the way.”
“But still,” Kakyoin protests, “you just get it. You’re so fucking smart, it’s not fair. Leave something for the rest of us.” He picks up a nearby pencil and waves it around as he gestures at the papers scattered across the table in front of them. “It’s your fault I’m doing all of this anyway.”
His brow creases and he looks genuinely confused, which leaves Kakyoin at a loss because he really thought that was obvious. “How is it my fault?”
“You’re the one who wants to go to college in America!”
“...you don’t?”
He hesitates for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of being completely honest here or downplaying the reality of it, which is that if Jotaro had decided he wanted to go to college in fucking Antarctica, Kakyoin would have started shopping for winter clothes immediately. It’s not that he isn’t interested in going to school in the United States--the school he ended up applying to is a really good one, only a 30-minute train ride from where Jotaro is going to study marine biology, and offers classes for what they call English Language Learner students so he won’t be so overwhelmed by the amount of English he has to learn. It’s a dream come true for Kakyoin that he would have never, ever thought to pursue without Jotaro declaring that he was going to America for school, but he’s not going reluctantly. Nor is he just going for Jotaro; it’s a fantastic school and he’s happy that he’s getting this opportunity.
But the two of them, there’s something tying them together. They were each other’s first best friend, the first person who really saw the other for who they were, all of who they were, from their stands to every broken piece of them that shattered off in the desert. Jotaro and Kakyoin have seen each other through so, so much that no one else will ever be able to understand. He can’t lose that, not to an enemy stand user and certainly not to anything as easy to overcome as distance.
“Originally, I only wanted to go because you wanted to go, but it’s a good opportunity anyway,” Kakyoin says honestly. “I wouldn’t have considered it if you hadn’t brought it up first, but I really am looking forward to it now. Even if it’ll be difficult.”
“You’re going because of me.” Jotaro looks lost, confused. He’s staring at Kakyoin as if he’s just now seeing him--like he’s just put the pieces of him together and something’s finally, finally making sense. “You’re learning English because of me. You--you went to Egypt for me.”
“Alright, that wasn’t entirely for you, I do actually care about the world enough to want to make sure it doesn’t get taken over,” he huffs. “There was a bit of revenge in there, too. But yeah, I’m going to America because you are. You’re important to me, Jotaro. I’d follow you anywhere.”
Kakyoin really didn’t think this was as earth-shattering of a revelation as Jotaro seems to have taken it as. He thought it was pretty fucking obvious, all things considered. It must have been. He’s never been subtle about the fact that he likes Jotaro. But Jotaro is still staring at him as if this information is news to him; as if he’s just now realizing that Kakyoin doesn’t just stick around because he’s the only stand user his age around, and oh. Wait. Jotaro totally thought that, didn’t he.
“Jotaro,” Kakyoin says, then stops before he goes any further. He doesn’t know what he wants to say next. If he wants to tell the truth, say you were the first person who ever looked at me and saw me for who I was; if he wants to tell him I think I’ve been in love with you since I woke up in your house and you told me you were going to kill Dio. He settles for something a little less dramatic. “You know you’re my best friend, right?”
“I didn’t.” Jotaro’s voice is quiet, slightly pained. “I thought you just sort of. Tolerated me.”
“Tolerated you?” he repeats, incredulous. “No. I like you, Jotaro. I really fucking like you. You’re the only person who gets me.”
He inclines his head, hiding his face behind the brim of his hat. “I like you too, for what it’s worth. You’re amazing.”
Kakyoin is grateful that the two of them aren’t making eye contact right now because he feels like everything he isn’t saying is obvious across his face right now; like his eyes and the curve of his nose and the furious blush that paints his cheeks are all screaming I love you because he can’t seem to articulate it. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he says, painfully, brutally honest. “Of course I’d follow you to America. Learn English for you. Anything.”
“That’s probably not healthy,” Jotaro mutters and Kakyoin laughs. “But I get it. I think I’d do the same for you.”
“What a pair we make. Couple of codependent bastards.” He sighs, finally looking back down at the homework in front of him. “Well, now that we’ve cleared that up, I should probably get back to--”
“Noriaki,” Jotaro interrupts, and isn’t that something. He almost never uses Kakyoin’s given name. Nobody does, really, except his parents. He’s always preferred his family name. But, hearing Jotaro say it… he could get used to Noriaki, if it sounds like that every time. “You’re important to me too. I know I’m not the best at showing it, but all the stuff you said, about feeling like I’m the only person who gets you, that’s how I feel about you too. Really.”
He bites his lip, trying to keep himself from blurting out something he can’t take back. His skin is crawling with it, face on fire and hands wringing in his lap as if every part of his body is trying to signal to Jotaro what Kakyoin can’t seem to say out loud.
But something about Jotaro makes Kakyoin incredibly, impressively stupid, and so after a few moments of awkward silence the warm, buzzing feeling coursing through his veins can’t stay down any longer and he says, voice just barely above a whisper, “I’m really fucking in love with you, Jotaro. And it’s fine if you don’t feel the same way, but I thought, you know, on the topic of feelings and whatnot…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, but there’s not much more to say, anyway. What else could he add? He’s fairly certain he’s not going to get the shit kicked out of him for it, not after a conversation on the school rooftop about expectations and did you know in America half of the states have decriminalized homosexuality, said much less casually than he originally intended. “You’re just--I said it already, but you’re the only person who understands me, and I think maybe it started in Singapore when we had to share a hotel room and I realized, like, wow, he’s really attractive. And that wasn’t me being, like, in love with you or anything, but it was the beginning of the end, and now--”
“You’re rambling,” Jotaro cuts him off gently, his hand going to cup the underside of Kakyoin’s chin and tilting his face up towards him; his thumb and forefinger are bracketing his mouth just like Kakyoin had done earlier. This is a thousand times more intimate than that, though, he realizes, as Jotaro runs his thumb along Kakyoin’s jaw. “Stop me if you’re not okay with this,” he says, and before he has a chance to ask what this is, exactly, Jotaro’s mouth is on his. It’s nothing world-ending, just a chaste press of lips, but it reignites that electricity that had been running through his body earlier regardless. Kakyoin thinks he might be melting a little bit.
It’s over almost as soon as it starts, but Kakyoin still feels breathless and giddy. From that. He’s so fucked. He is so fucked. “So, that means…” he prompts.
Jotaro laughs, and it’s just as wonderful of a sound as it is every time, made only better for the rarity of it. “It means I’m in love with you too. The hell did you think I meant?”
“I don’t know!” He buries his still-red face in his hands. “Maybe you were being nice and just trying to give me what I wanted.”
“Trust me when I say everything I want to do with you is entirely selfish,” Jotaro says, and the stark honesty in his voice startles Kakyoin a bit. “I want everything with you, Noriaki. Every moment of your time.”
“What was that about not being good with words?” he asks weakly. “You can have it. All of it. Everything. Just so long as you give me something in return.”
He smiles, and. Damn. Kakyoin’s gone. Done for. He’d do anything for this boy. He is Jotaro’s, head to toe, every part of him. He’s been Jotaro’s for so much longer than either of them were fully conscious of, and if he thinks about it, really thinks about it--Jotaro’s probably been his for just as long. “I’ll give you whatever you want.”
#jjba#jojo no kimyou na bouken#jojo's bizarre adventure#jotakak#jjba part 3#stardust crusaders#jotaro kujo#noriaki kakyoin#jojo fanfic#fanfiction#my writing#jojos bizarre adventure#jotaro x kakyoin
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
Healing Hands
Note: So when I first started this bog I was a minor and not very comfortable with writing smut, but now as a 19 year old, I have finally decided to try my hand at it. I hope you enjoy this NSFW version of an old scenario about Jotaro! (click here if you want to read it) Please let me know if you have any constructive comments!
Afab reader but no pronouns used.
NSFW BELOW THE CUT PLEASE NO MINORS!!
“Could you have tried to avoid at least some of the blows out there?” you tsk in annoyance at your boyfriend across from you.
Jotaro rolls his eyes and groans in reciprocated annoyance. You don’t notice his sass, too preoccupied with the various stains of blood littering his shirt. The part that really worries you though is the large gash in his abdomen.
“Whatever happened doesn’t matter, what matters is how deep this cut goes.” you say as you gently grasp his forearm and pull him to the bathroom. “I hope you’re not gonna need stitches because I did not sign up for that.”
He grunts and groans in pain as he sits down on the toilet lid, meanwhile you spin around and bend over to look in your bag for a first aid kit.
“Where is this god damn kit?” you mumble to yourself. You faintly hear rustling behind you, but more importantly, you can feel your lovers eyes staring daggers at your propped up behind. Deciding to tease him a little for looking, you gently wiggle your hips as you finish your search and come back up with the first aid kit.
Your set it on the counter, and when you turn around, you’re greeted to the sight of the strikingly handsome Jotaro completely shirtless and splayed out on the toilet. Now it’s your turn to ogle him as his muscular chest and arms twitch from the pain he’s in. You hate to see your lover hurting, but fuck does he look good right now.
You’re snapped out of your daze when he moves to adjust himself on his uncomfortable seat. Your face flushes at your lapse in propriety and you quickly turn back to the task at hand.
Grabbing wash-clothes and wet rags, you clean up your battered boyfriend. In doing so, you decide that the gash isn’t deep enough to need anything other than ointment and bandages. Jotaro’s body slowly relaxes as he relishes in the loving treatment you give him as you wash and bandage him up. He sighs at the feeling of your hands dragging along his abdomen and chest as you bandage him up. He’s in heaven, completely blissed out from the feeling of just you.
When your hands pull away, he almost attempts to pull them back, but you walk away too quickly.
While Jotaro is having the time of his life, you are a sweaty, flustered mess. You can’t lie, feeling up your lover was like heaven for you too, but you can feel your body aching for more. The thought of being this worked up over bandaging up your boyfriend is completely mortifying.
You put away your kit and leave the bathroom as quickly as possible to give yourself space from the demon seducing you. Jotaro soon slowly follows you out, still completely shirtless.
“Something wrong, sweetheart?” Jotaro asks teasingly. “You seem a bit flustered.” He slowly makes his way over to your spot on the bed.
You become even more flustered at him calling you out and can’t help but to try to hide your face in your hands. Jotaro quickly walks up to where you’re sat and gently grabs your wrists pulling them away from your face.
“Don’t be shy. I’m your boyfriend after all.” Him saying this does nothing to help your mortification, but you decide to mask it by making the first move.
You crane your neck upward to catch his lips in a passionate kiss; trying to show him every bit of your need in just one kiss. Somehow he understands you as he grabs you from under your thighs and pulls them apart to cage himself between them.
He removes one of his hands from kneeding your thighs to cup your face and pull you in for another passionate kiss. You take the opportunity to place your hands on his chest and begin feeling him up again. He sighs and grunts into the kiss at your menstruations and moves to kiss your neck in retaliation. You gasp and sigh as he bites your neck then slowly soothes over the mark with his tongue.
You slowly drag your hand from his broad chest down to below his belt, being extra carful as you pass his newly bandaged wound. You gently grab your lover through his pants and begin rubbing him. He jolts at the sudden pleasure and begins to lowly groan in your ear as he thrusts and twitches in your hand. Suddenly, the pleasure becomes to much yet to little for Jotaro, so he quickly reaches down to undo his belt.
“Come here baby,” he commands as he pulls down his pants and underwear in one go. He sits back of the bed, resting against the pillows and headboard. “Since you wanted to be a little slut and shake your ass for me while you tried to find the aid kit, you can continue by putting on a show for me now.”
Understanding what he meant you smile as you grab the bottom of your shirt and slowly pull it up, making sure to put your tits in full view as they bounce.
Jotaro leans back and slowly begins to jerk his cock as he watches his favorite show, you flaunting your beautiful body.
You bite your lip at the sight of his vulgar state as you feel yourself getting wetter than you unknowingly already are. You shook your ass like before as you turn around to slowly shimmy your pants down, bending down to flash your pussy at him.
Jotaro loudly groans at the sight of your perfect cunt. He quickly moves to pull you onto the bed with him and pulls you on top of his lap. He’s so overwhelmed with just how needy he is for you to wrap around his dick that he can barley hold himself back from shoving you down on him as soon as you settle into his lap. However, while he may be hornier than he’s ever been, he’s still a gentleman.
Quickly, your both caught a flurry of lips and tongue as your hands roam each others now naked bodies. After he’s committed the feeling of every curve and dip of your body, Jotaro’s hands make their way to your core. You gasp as he lightly grazes his fingers over your opening, collecting some of the wetness there, to then slowly, almost tortuously, slide his forefingers over your aching clit. Jotaro disconnects the kiss as you begin to gasp and moan from his menstruations; he’s focused only on bringing you the most pleasure before he loses himself in you. He unexpectedly slides his two fingers inside your cunt, plesently surprising you. You can feel yourself getting close as you grind your clit onto the bottom of his palm, and your release comes as soon as he curls his fingers one last time. You’re in heaven, completely dumb from just your boyfriend’s fingers, but almost immediately, Jotaro is feeling an ache in his cock to fill you.
He needs to make you fully stupid for his dick, and his alone.
“Please baby come sit on my cock, I need it so bad,” he pleads desperately. You’ve never heard your boyfriend so needy for you before, and you’re now realizing it turns you on like hell.
Through your bliss, you grab the base of his cock as you bend to kiss his neck and cheeks. Though as soon as you fit the bulky tip into your opening, your impatient boyfriend grabs you by the hips and slams you down to his base. It an overwhelming sensation that fully knocks the wind out of you.
“Jojo!” you let out in a half moan, half gasp. He begins slowly thrusting up into you as he wraps his arms around your waist and back to pin you to his chest. Soon enough, you’re both a mess of moans and sweat.
“Fuck you’re so tight,” Jotaro grunts. You watch as his beautiful face scrunches up in pleasure. Your pussy clenches around his shaft as he quickly thrust into you. He begins slowly moving you to slam down on him harder. You’re pretty much brain dead from his actions, and he takes notice.
“You’re so pretty… going stupid on my cock,” Jotaro pants out as he feels himself getting closer.
You clench harder around him knowing that’s he’s close, feeling yourself getting close as well. “Please, Jojo- ah!- so close…” you mumble out between moans. You can’t help but to focus on your lover’s beautiful body, the slopes of his abs spasming from your bouncing and his matching thrusts as he glistens beautifully with sweat in the afternoon light.
With just a few more strokes, your cunt seizes around him as you climax. Jotaro’s following behind soon enough, as he pulls out of you after a few more strokes and releases his load on your ass.
You lay all of your weight on top of your boyfriend as you both pant and come down from your respective highs. Once, you come back to your senses you roll off of Jotaro and lay beside him, still slightly panting. “Maybe I should get hurt more often if this is the kind of treatment I get afterwards,” he says smirking at you.
#part 3 jotaro#jojo x reader#jojo's bizarre adventure#jjba#jojo jotaro#jotaro imagine#jotaro x reader#jotaro kujo#jotaro smut#jjba smut#stardust crusaders
48 notes
·
View notes
Note
Divergent (last one for a while I'm sorry). Eric x ofc. They're leaders. Due to how busy they're during initiate season, they don't do anything together and it makes them fight a lot. During one of those fights hurtful stuff is said (something like "just fucking leave") by him and she leaves for field training. In the middle of it, a hurricane hits and they can't find one initiate. She goes to search for them and eric is ripping his hair out trying to find her after she doesn't return in time.
love a good hurricane. i would, in fact, write an entire fic analyzing what the weather trends would be like in the divergent series but i don't think anyone has asked for that (yet) so here you go instead :))
masterlist
Eric Coulter can sense the fight coming. Usually, he relishes any chance of conflict, like all he needs is to get someone else’s blood to coat his knuckles and he’ll be set for life, but today is different. Maybe it’s because no matter what happens, there will be no winners in today’s fight, no one being led out of the ring with their hands held triumphantly over their heads. Sure, no bones will be broken, but neither he nor Y/N L/N will end today completely intact.
He’s been waiting alone in what’s supposed to be their shared apartment for hours now, long since the time when Y/N should have been home. Eric isn’t going to claim that there’s a curfew here, not for either of them. Dauntless leaders make the rules for everyone except themselves, Eric knows that better than anyone.
That’s why he shouldn’t be irritated that Y/N isn’t home yet, but he is. He always is. Typically, Eric is able to convince himself to let it go, that of all the hills to die on her punctuality shouldn’t be the worst of all. It’s not like they ever do anything but sit around, anyway, but that’s precisely why Eric is angry in the first place.
They’ve both been busy, it’s not like this is solely Y/N’s fault, but Eric has always found it a little easier to blame anyone but himself. Surely Eric couldn’t be the reason Four beat him out for the slot of top initiate during their own training round, surely the other boy was cheating or doing something other than simply being better. Surely the reason he hasn’t seen his girlfriend other than glimpses across crowded hallways will be a problem on her end and not something that can be traced back to him.
That’s what Dauntless has taught him, at least. Maybe back in Erudite there’s a boy who doesn’t like to pretend that he was Dauntless-born, some kid who knows when to accept responsibility even when he’s wrong. Maybe there was once an iteration of Eric Coulter that wasn’t the mess he’s grown into today.
It’s foolish thinking, and Eric knows it. He has always been himself, and even if that character has strengthened and hardened into a knife’s edge over the recent years, nothing real has changed. Eric has always been a monster, and usually he likes it, but today it just makes him feel even more alone than usual. If he’s truly the cruel, sadistic training leader that he’d like to be, why does he feel the need to fill his hours with someone else’s company?
The door clicks open at last, a welcome break from Eric’s intrusive thoughts. It’s not like this evening is going to get any easier now that Y/N is back, but at least he’ll be able to place a little more of his rage out on the woman currently tiptoeing through the door instead of funneling it back into himself. Eric has always been more of a fighter than a thinker, even if that’s let people down in the past. All he has is his racing fury and tendency for blood. It is all that he has ever needed.
Some quiet part of his head whispers that that isn’t entirely true. When he had fallen for Y/N, and Eric well and truly fell, he doesn’t know that he had been the same since. It was as if he had taken a temporary lapse from the monster. Other Dauntless had even commented on it, how Eric seemed more focused, more clean in the days since he kissed Y/N for the first time.
That had been good for him, being loved. It had sharpened his blunt cruelty into the edge of a razor. Eric had been no less bloodthirsty, but he was better at it. He wasted less of his time on displays that he didn’t need. Loving Y/N had made him more aware of himself, and in turn, more aware of all that he could be if Eric stopped getting caught up in stepping on people’s dreams just because he felt like it.
Now, all Eric feels aware of is the slump in Y/N’s shoulders, the way she took off her shoes an instant before she slipped inside the door so she can try not to make a sound. Eric’s eyes have long since adjusted, and all of her secrecy is pointless. It just proves that today is yet another day of them not working.
He sighs, and flicks on the light. Y/N flings up a hand to shade her eyes from the sudden brilliance, and Eric watches her face fall as she realizes that he’s been there all along.
“You didn’t have to wait up,” she says softly.
To Y/N’s credit, she doesn’t seem drunk in the slightest. Eric doesn’t think she’s done a thing other than work all this time, which marks a difference between her and the girlfriends of some of Eric’s friends. Y/N could have been wasting her time and actually given him a reason to argue, but she’s just as good as always. Maybe that’s what has truly been bothering Eric all this time, that he feels like some shady wreck when she’s a perfect saint, day in and day out.
Even in the face of her alibi, Eric still folds his arms tightly across his chest. He can’t help but flash back to this morning, when he’d donned the exact same stance so he could chew out his initiates about needing to actually hit the target when they used their guns. Everything’s a damned lesson now, isn’t it?
“I did,” Eric refutes, “because I had no idea when you were getting back. That makes the third time this has happened this week, by the way. It’s only Thursday.”
Y/N drags a tired hand over her face. “I’ve been working, I told you. Dauntless can barely take care of itself, let alone try and work with the Erudite plan.”
The weighty stress on the mention of the blue-suited faction tells Eric all he needs to know about why Y/N is taut with nerves. Jeanine Matthews had approached Max, Eric, and some of the other Dauntless leaders with the idea of making a better city, one where the useless Abnegation weren’t wasting food and money on people who would never pay them back. Looks like Y/N’s been working on the same thing.
This is where Eric steps back and cuts her some slack, but it isn't. Instead, he squares his shoulders and readies himself for another blow. “That may be true, but work isn’t the only thing in your life. I barely feel like I have a girlfriend anymore. I see you for minutes at a time, and then you’re gone for another day. I mean, when was the last time you even looked at me for longer than a second?”
Y/N’s gaze turns stony. “Don’t act like this is my fault. As you might recall, you’ve been getting in minutes before me. I try to talk to you during the day, but your trainees are so important that you can’t spare me a single word. Hell, you won’t even glance at me when you’re with them. You’re not as blameless as you’d like to seem, trust me.”
Eric groans, even though he knows she’s right. “Oh, and I’m a monster because of that, right? Maybe if you stopped trying to visit me during the hours when I’m working, you’d be able to finish up the day faster and we wouldn’t have this problem.”
Y/N scoffs. “Yeah, because it’s totally that easy. If I cut out the thirty seconds in which I try to see you, I’ll be able to avoid working three hours overtime.”
Eric’s expression hardens. “If you’re going to be that smart with me, you might as well go back to your plans.”
“What are you saying?” Y/N asks, her voice cold yet cautious. All of her efforts to mitigate this fight just make Eric even more angry. Just once, he wants to have his time to shout and storm, and she’s trying to make peace. Once again, it’s Y/N doing everything right and Eric on the outside, the killer everybody wants to pretend they’re not going to become.
“You heard me,” Eric says, forcing himself to keep his voice even, “You have your priorities and they’re not us right now. Fine. If that’s how it’s going to be, how about you leave me be? It would certainly do me good to stop having to worry about how you’re always skipping out. Just get your stuff and go. It’s not like it would be any different from normal, anyway. You’re always gone. Just go.”
Y/N draws back as if he’s slapped her. “If that’s what you want,” she whispers, “then fine. Goodnight, Eric.”
The door closes behind her, and Eric starts swearing the second he hears her footsteps disappear down the hall, no longer bearing the effort of trying to be quiet. This isn’t what he wanted, but it’ll be best for them, won’t it? They need a break. This is their breather in between rounds, and maybe when Eric ducks his head back into the ring, he’ll actually be able to put an end to all of the fighting.
If it’s an end Eric wants, though, he’s not sure that he’s going to get close to Y/N long enough to have it. They already saw scant glimpses of each other during the day, and now that Y/N’s stopped living in his apartment, it’s like she’s ceased to exist. After two days, Eric caves and tries to find her, but she never answers the door and the key to her rooms has suddenly disappeared from his apartment, along with a lot of her belongings.
He fucked up, he can admit that freely. Eric is used to swinging first, asking questions never, and it’s finally backfired on him. He can only hope that Y/N will let her guard down for a second, because even that moment will give him enough time to apologize and hope that they can go back to normal.
However, Eric’s pride gets the best of him, just like it always has. The days pass, and not a word is spoken between the two of them. Eric goes about his days bitter and scorned, lashing out at the initiates for the smallest of mistakes. At some point, even Four has to tell him to take a walk after he shouted at some kid until his voice went hoarse for accidentally dropping a knife during target practice.
When the storm comes, Eric sees it as a blessing. It forces all of them inside, the skies rippling with gray and purple and green. Perhaps the rain can wash away all of his anger, his fear, and leave behind only the best of what Y/N saw in him. He’ll find her after this settles, he decides, he’ll stay outside of her door all night if that’s what it takes.
The problem is that he just can’t find her. Eric stops by her workplace, but she’s not there, and her apartment is well and truly empty. The storm is picking up by now, and klaxons are starting to wail, alerting everybody to stay off of the trains and get inside. Eric hears talk that it might even be a hurricane, which is not the best news at a time like this.
The weather has been awful for as long as Eric has been alive, and according to some of the Erudite scholars, it’s about ten times worse than it was for their ancient predecessors. Ever since the catastrophic events that shrunk the nation’s population to their city alone, weather systems have been pretty much out of control. Heat rises quickly, storm cells gain power far faster than they ever have, and foul weather systems can linger over Chicago for weeks instead of mere hours. A hurricane could spell the end of days if it was so inclined.
So, as the minutes pass and Eric still can’t find Y/N, he feels his panic level skyrocket. Eric receives a call from Four to head to a balcony on the training level, and he heads there immediately, certain that something’s happened. He’s not wrong, either. Four stares over the edge of the balcony, knuckles white on the iron railing.
“What’s going on?” Eric asks, trying not to let his paranoia show.
Four shakes his head tersely. “Remember how we were doing field training for some of the higher ranked initiates? Everyone was supposed to go inside when the hurricane warnings started sounding, but I did a head count when you left and I couldn’t find one of the kids.”
Eric stares out over the rolling landscape of the city, but he can’t see anything through the whipping boughs of trees. The wind is picking up speed by the second, and anything that isn’t nailed down is rolling through the streets, driven by gusts of invisible force. Rain starts to pelt the ground, the sound like bullets against metal.
“You’re telling me some trainee is out there in this weather?” He asks.
Four grimaces. “Not just one trainee. Y/N heard that there was a kid out there and she volunteered to go bring him back. I haven’t seen her in half an hour.”
Just like that, Eric is gone. His stomach drops down to ground level, four floors below. “That can’t be true,” he says feebly, but he knows it’s a lie even before the syllables cross his tongue. Of course Y/N would have gone, she has always been the hero, always braver than the rest of them. To her, a hurricane is just another chance for her to prove herself.
Four’s lips flatten. “It is, though. I’m sure she’ll be fine, but–”
He cuts himself off, staring up at the sky, which is now an ugly shade of yellowish green, streaked through with clouds as dark as night. The rain rises to a crescendo, so loud Eric can’t hear Four when the guy starts to shout and has to rely on reading his lips to learn that Four is going inside.
Eric should head in, too, but he can’t, not when Y/N is still out there. He can’t do a thing to save her now, but he can at least stand guard, a silent tribute to the woman he loves. Of course Y/N will come back, she has to. Eric doesn’t think he could survive if she didn’t, not when he left her on such bad terms.
As the minutes spin by, though, the odds get worse and worse. Eric can see lightning fork across the rusting metal sky, and thunder rolls in a constant, deafening boom of sound. He’s never seen a storm this bad, and it’s taking everything in him to just stay here and hold on to the balcony of this protected alcove. Eric can’t imagine how Y/N is staying alive and finding the trainee out there.
Some terrified part of him dares broach the thought that perhaps she isn’t holding on after all. A storm like this could easily kill. Already, the streets are starting to flood, thick beige water swirling across the asphalt. There’s no way Y/N could make it back in these conditions, no matter how much Eric wishes she would.
Then he sees it. A fleeting flash of movement, just visible out of the corner of his eye. Eric leans forward over the edge of the balcony, desperate to see what it was, although he’s forced back against the wall when a bolt of lightning flashes so close to his head that he swears he can feel the heat.
The movement comes again, though, and this time Eric is certain of it: it’s Y/N, it must be. He calls out to her, directions and encouragement and pleading, even though there’s no chance that she could hear him over the din of the hurricane. She’s leading the lost initiate through the streets, the two of them sticking close to the walls of the buildings they pass and moving in quick dashes from cover to cover.
Heart in his throat, Eric watches them approach. He ducks inside to tell Four to ready the door nearest them, then runs back out to the balcony, as if by watching he’ll act as guardian angel and protect them from certain death. When they’re below him, Eric heads back inside for real, racing down the stairs so he can meet them as they arrive.
The wind is so strong that it’s half pulling Y/N and the initiate back outside, but they manage to get inside long enough for other Dauntless to shove the doors closed behind them, barring the locks as soon as they can. Eric races for Y/N, pulling her into his arms with the silent relief of a man who’s just faced down death itself and walked away with his pulse still racing.
“You’re alright,” he whispers, as much to convince himself as her.
Y/N wraps her arms around him. “I’m alright,” she repeats, “we’re alright.”
Eric presses his lips to her head. “Don’t ever do that again. I was terrified that I was going to lose you. I don’t ever want to be without you again, you hear me? Never again.”
Y/N chuckles softly, breaking away from his embrace just enough that she can look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Eric. About the fight.”
He shakes his head. “No, it was my mistake. I was looking for a reason to fight. It was my fault just as much, I didn’t want to admit it then. I just want you. That’s all I need.”
Y/N smiles and hugs him again. “You have me, Eric. You always have.”
Outside, the hurricane rages on, but for once, Eric feels safe and sound. He has his entire world right here in his arms, and he couldn’t worry about a single other thing.
divergent tag list: @dindjarinneedsahug, @poisonmenegan, @ozzynka, @rogueanschel, @with-inked-solace, @gods-fools-heroes
#eric coulter#eric coulter imagines#eric coulter x reader#eric coulter oneshot#divergent#divergent imagines#divergent x reader#divergent oneshot#divergent eric coulter#divergent eric coulter imagines#divergent eric coulter x reader#divergent eric coulter oneshot#insurgent#allegiant#divergent eric#divergent eric imagines#divergent eric x reader#divergent eric oneshot
413 notes
·
View notes
Note
Thoughts on TOTK Ganon's appearance?
A lot of them!! Some would say: too many!!! Too much!! So much so that I was almost starting to turn this ask into a TotK early review, so I'll simplify my answer a little.
I have not finished the game yet, but I have seen the memories and a good chunk of it, but my opinion is therefore incomplete and subject to lapses in judgement/hasty positions. Also, my opinion on this is kind of a buzzkill and I already made people depressed and bummed out by explaining it, so I'm putting it under the cut to avoid hurting the good time of people who might not want to think about this/might disagree on this description alone (and I understand, since it's an opinion that also depresses me!!! I wanted to like everything!! I wanted to be blown away!!).
I think this Ganondorf is like OoT Ganondorf redux, but with even more problems than OoT Ganondorf, somehow??? which is honestly a flex at this point.
(I love OoT Ganondorf to be clear, but the flaws are pretty undeniable and you have to navigate through a lot of bullshit to get to the good parts)
Between the green skin that lacks any proper justification in the context of the game (I say this because I always hear "oooo but it's because he's a demon/undead" and uhhhh no, it's not because of that apparently), the fact that he's half naked but we're never ever meant to conceive him as a human person in any way but merely as a constant physical threat... Like I'm certain the famous Ganondorf Designer did their utmost to give him justice and there is an obvious attention to details in his design, and I'm not blaming them or anyone in particular for the Nintendo treatment --but it does add up to something quite uncomfortable in his characterization regardless. Even the fact that his face rigging is extremely flimsy and makes his emoting feels super strange bugs me (I heavily suspect it's because it's way less soft anime and structurally very different from any other face in the game, especially around the jaw, and so they had to do a custom rig and had to work around its limitations --it's all speculation, and I am always here for Unsettling Ganondorf Faces, but it kinda felt accidental and not intentional like in WW or TP). He's at once a lot and really not much. I find his characterization beyond barebones. Even Twilight Princess Ganondorf had more to him than this (like the man was fascinating in comparaison, show me a guy claiming to be chosen by the goddesses while sitting on a throne next to the decapitated statues of said goddesses any fucking day over what we got here)
I like the mechanical aspects he introduces; the gloom is cool, the hands that grab you are amazing, the bosses are such cool callbacks --and he's just causing messes and putting parasites in things!!! You go girl. I do love that he's having his little puppet Zelda run around causing hijinxes, that's very fun of him and my favorite part of his character in this game so far, tho I don't know if that even counts as him --and I'm not 100% sure what that even says about anyone?
But here's the thing: nobody (beyond * arguably * Rauru) seems to be allowed to have a character arc in this game, so it's hard to come up with anything to say since he's the sole cause of conflict while being almost completely motivation-less. I don't think anyone is written particularly competently honestly; it just shows more with him because a Ganondorf who's not well written reverts back to Ganondorf at his most generic expression of a baddie imaginable, with a side-serving of, quite frankly, really questionable orientalist themes that I see little excuse for being handled the way they were in the year of our lord 2023. Like I'm kinda shocked not to see more people calling the racism for what it is, because it's... pretty blatant. But that goes beyond Ganondorf and that's the whole game, and I said I would try to keep my scope limited, but!!! I will screech about imperialism eventually!!!
The other aspect of that discussion, which is inevitable, is how much does TotK erase everything that came before? I'm sure there are some amazing Zelda theorists out there who will find a way to reconcile all of this, but for now, I get the sense that Nintendo wanted to get away from their messy timelines (fair) and reinvoke some of the old songs for a new audience, and in doing so scrubbing the slate clean. My problem is not so much that they wanted to do this (even if I think BotW's solution was, strangely, much cleaner and more respectful of their own history), but what they introduced instead: and, in Ganondorf's case, he's kind of reduced to a parody of himself --one that is so unbelievably unsympathetic and impossible to relate to and also responsible of his own oppression and also not oppressed since he attacked first!! and also oppressive?? (I made A Sound when I heard the line about Rauru talking about "the last free gerudo village falling" bitch!! free according to whom??????)
Removing a lot of the Goddesses/Triforce thing (so far, maybe it will come up) also does this conflict zero favors in my opinion, as it makes everything and everyone's actions much less fated and an expression of self-determination/resilience over their predestination, and much more uhh political in a bad way, while still borrowing the aesthetics of divinity to justify its own mind-numbing moral simplicity.
I don't know. Maybe the third act reveal will really surprise me and make me reconsider my position, but it would take a lot to scrub off all the dedicated efforts made to flatten Ganondorf to his lowest possible denominator (him and his people honestly my follow-up to the gerudo post will probably be Oops! All Salt) for the sake of the most brazenly imperialistic and feudalist Hyrule to date and its really weird and uncomfortable reimagined origin story.
So uhhh, Thoughts Bad! I guess thoughts bad. :(
(Matt Mercer did a great job with what little he was given tho, and so did every voice actor)
#tloz#ganondorf#totk#totk spoilers#tears of the kingdom#totk critical#gerudos#asks#thoughts#thank you for the ask!!#I truly adore a lot of things about the game!!#the narrative is not a part of it#I find it so... cheerfully oppressive#my brain is really going overdrive over trying to figure out what bothers me so much about this story#so thanks for the outlet and sorryyyy#it's a rant#like a proper one#but I kind of feel insane to see fellow game writers not criticize any of this??#like it's not at all a part of the conversation?#and it's not even the only thing I want to criticize about the narrative design#HOWEVER this is not at all a condamnation of anyone who do enjoy him or feel creatively compelled by his appearance here#I'm sure there are things to do that are cool and powerful#just like there were in OoT#but I just don't see an excuse for Nintendo itself to be so careless in handling these themes in 2023#(again: the company not the individual devs)#(I've BEEN THERE --not in Nintendo but AAA-- I know the pain of complexity being rejected and rewritten as its opposite)
62 notes
·
View notes
Text
You'll Find Me Resting Among The Restless... (Sinners Prayer)
Mafia!Stucky x POC Escort!Reader “Sin”
Wordcount: 5325
Summary:
Not all girls are made of sugar spice and everything nice. Some girls are made of art, lust and misplaced trust. The most loving thing you can do for a man, is to teach him to swallow his own poison.
Warnings:
Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Betrayal, Infidelity, Past Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate universe - Mafia, Texting, Punishment, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort Sex, Tease, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Female Character of Color
Notes:
This story just attacked me and would not let up until I got it out of my system. It's angsty but with a happy/hopeful ending because I'm a sucker for a resolution.
Italics are thoughts
Photos used do not represent any particular reader features, they are used for reference only.
Happy Reading!
Banner by @cafekitsune Divider by @firefly-graphics
They messed up badly this time. Not only had they fallen for you. They didn't realize it until you were gone. Throwing every “gift” back in their faces and moving out of the penthouse they liked to keep you in. You also went back to some of your old clients. One of which was a particular couple that they were very close to, in business and personally.
All because Steve let his bitch of an ex Sharon get under his skin and in a lapse of judgement and a whole lot of whiskey he not only fucked her but let you find them together on the couch naked and passed out the morning after. He had the nerve to get pissy with you for just showing up at their place. When he was the one that set up the breakfast date the week prior.
Asshole.
Poor Bucky, he didn't even do anything and yet because he and his boyfriend are a package deal he got left as well.
You told him you’d never get between them. That you wouldn't hurt either of them by picking one over the other. If things came to that, you’d just leave them both. They weren’t the only ones who went and fell in love. With tears filling your eyes, begging to be set free, you turned towards the Steel Gray eyes full anguish beside you.
“I can handle a broken heart Buck. It’s not the first time someone thought that because of my profession and being non monogamous that you can't ACTUALLY cheat on me. I’m going to miss you something fierce though.” You step closer for just a moment and caress his cheek.
“I wish it wasn't this way, but it is what it is. I can forgive a lot of things. Even this if done properly, but for now I just need to not be here anymore. Please know that I don't blame you for any of this. You're just as much a victim of his choices as I am.” You kiss his cheek.
“I love you. Please don't hurt him too much and take care of yourself okay. If you need me you know where I’ll be.” You pivot on your heels and head out the door, gently closing it behind you. You make it all the way to the penthouse they provided you before you break down in tears as you pack up all of your belongings. You’ve just gotta get out here.
That’s how you ended up here, attending a party hosted by Pepper and Tony Stark, as their plus one. In all honesty you knew Tony only threw this event because he wanted to cheer you up and this is the only way he knew how outside of the bedroom. That was his first approach, which was shutdown quickly by Pepper the moment she saw you on their doorstep, clearly heartbroken.
You weren't here only in a work capacity, although they were paying for your time, they just wanted to protect you and let you heal without the added pressure to ‘perform’. So once again, on paper and according to your bank account at least, you were their Sugar Baby.
You did terminate the contract with Steve and Bucky the same day the incident occurred, so it was good to know you wouldn't have to dip into your savings just yet. Thank goodness Pepper still kept your old apartment in Stark Tower ready for you just in case.
The relationship you shared with them was not at all conventional, with or without a contract. Frankly they were the only people you knew who you could always count on and that meant the world to you. You truly did love the Starks. Before Steve and Bucky came along they were your favorite clients. They were the ones to introduce you to the powerful couple, at a party just like this one actually. So technically they were to blame for your current heartbreak.
I wonder if they’ll both show their faces here and if Sharon will be on Steve’s arm? I wonder how Bucky is holding up, if the nightmares have come back? Fuck. I told myself I wasn't going to think about them tonight and here I am almost in tears at the thought of Bucky in pain. I need a drink or five.
It isn’t until you're nursing your third cocktail at the bar, catching up with Wanda that you spot them, the usual entourage of Nat and Sam at their sides, Clint taking up the rear. Ever the intimidating image as always. Other than Tony, who runs Manhattan, they’re the biggest bosses in the room, controlling Brooklyn. Thankfully they brokered a truce years ago and everyone works together peacefully.
Before you have a chance to escape to a far corner where you can hide away, you make the mistake of glancing over your shoulder and catch the intense blues of Bucky staring straight into your soul. Even tired he looks like a damn Greek god. Tragedy included.
He breaks the stare off, leaning over to Nat and whispering something in her ear. You watch as she skillfully distracts Steve and moves him towards the center or the party where the Starks are currently holding court. Lost in watching Nat do what she does best, you don't realize Bucky has made his way over to you until it’s too late and you feel the ghost of fingertips trace down your exposed spine in your backless black dress.
He leans over your shoulder. That sweet baritone you love whispering into your ear. “You look magnificent tonight, Doll. Would you grant a poor mortal the chance to remain in your presence with a dance?”
You lift your glass to your lips, keeping your eyes straight ahead, finishing the remnants of alcohol while you ponder your response. With a steadying breath you respond. “One dance couldn't hurt. But it can't be here, among such prying eyes. I’d rather remain in the shadows tonight.”
“As you wish.” He proceeds to rest his hand on the small of your back and guide you toward a darkened sitting room off the main hall. You could faintly hear the music over the murmur of voices wafting into the space.
He pulls you close, wrapping his large arms around your waist as you rest yours around his thick neck. Being in his arms again, after weeks of loneliness, feels like coming home. You place your forehead against the space between his collarbone when he begins to sway to the dull beat.
“How have you been, Doll? Truthfully. Don’t try to sugarcoat it for my feelings.”
Keeping your face right where it is, to shield you from those steel grays you love so much, you give him your truth. “Surviving. That’s the best way I can describe it. I’ve been licking my wounds and trying to mend this hole I feel in my heart. I keep thinking, I just have to get to tomorrow and the pain will lessen even more. And one day it won’t hurt anymore when I think of them.”
You lift your head to run your eyes over his handsome face. “How about you? How have the Kings of Brooklyn been holding up in their Ivory Tower?”
Looking off into the darkened space, his eyes latching on to a sliver of moonlight coming in through a crack in the curtains. You feel his chest vibrate as he scoffs. “We’re not even sleeping in the same bed right now. I was so upset with him that day that I couldn’t even be bothered to help him with his hangover. Funny enough, Sharon was kicked out immediately by Steve as soon as you left. Like legit woke her up, threw her clothes at her and screamed at her to get the fuck out. She didn’t leave without spewing a few truths first.”
He just shakes his head, rambling out his thoughts as they come into his mind. “Apparently it was her plan all along to get him drunk and earn her spot back by his side. She’d been talking shit about the both of us and just wanted Steve to herself. She knew just how to get into Steve’s head due to his loyalty to her family. Thought that you’d just latch on to me and I would let him go to keep you. She had no idea that you would drop us both because you couldn't handle breaking us apart.”
You stare at him slack jawed, as he turns to look down at your moonlit face.
“Not gonna lie. I’m drowning without you, Doll. I can’t even look at him after what he did. It was reckless, regardless of his inebriated state. He knows how I feel about her and the things she’s done to him and me in the past.” He shakes his head in disbelief.
“The fucking Golden idiot, due to his loyalty to her Aunt and Uncle, and what he feels he owes them, just keeps letting her back in. I’m done with it. What about the respect I deserve as his partner in business and life? Fuck that, what about the respect and loyalty YOU deserve.” He’s staring straight into your soul again.
“Your loyalty. Your love. It saved me babygirl. Your light always cuts through the darkness for me. You were the piece we were fucking missing and I cant believe he would even risk that. I’ve tried to let you go. I understand your reasons for leaving us. But I just can't do it. Even seeing the pain he’s trying to hide away, the tough front he’s putting on, isn’t enough to keep me around right now. I miss you baby. I’d give it all up to have you back in my arms for good. All this lavish bullshit isn't worth anything to me without you by my side. I hate that I’m being punished for his fuck up. Again I'm not blaming you for your decision baby. It just hurts and I miss you so fucking much. I can't even sleep at night anymore.”
You can’t resist running your fingers through the hairs on the nape of his neck. “Bucky. I miss you too. So much. I wish it wasn't like this. I never wanted to leave you. You’re right. You never did do anything wrong. You were more than loyal to me. I hate thinking I’m causing you pain because of a stupid decision he made.” Tears begin to well in your eyes.
He gives your waist a squeeze. “Don’t cry baby. We can figure this out. Where are you staying? I know Tony and Pep took over your contract.”
You sniffle a bit. “They did. But it’s not what you think. Sex is not on the table. Though Tony fought me and Pep on that. He thinks a good dicking is all I need. They just want me to heal in peace. I’m staying here at the Tower in my old apartment.”
He nods his head. “Good. Makes me feel better knowing you're safe.” He grabs your cheeks tenderly. “I wish I could kiss you right now. It’s all I’ve wanted to do these last couple weeks. Just having you in my arms again isn’t enough.”
“Please.” You whisper out.
“Do you mean it, Doll? You're not just telling me what you think I want because you feel guilty for your decision to leave?” He implores.
“I don't regret my decision to leave, Bucky. But I do hate that I had to leave you behind. Like I said that morning. I could forgive almost anything. There’s just not anything you need to apologize for. So why did I let my emotions drag you in with my need for him to be punished? It was stupid of me. If you can forgive me for how I left, I would like to keep you in my life. In whatever way you see fit for that.” You confess.
“Really?” He furrows his brows. Not wanting to get his hopes up.
“Yes. I’ve been miserable without you too.” You smile up at him.
“You good to get out here or do the Starks still need you tonight? Cus there is nothing I want more than to get you out of this dress and underneath me so I can show just how much I truly missed you.” That devilish smile of his, that means nothing but the good kind of trouble adorns his face as he awaits your answer.
“I’m not needed here. This whole party was just to get me out of my apartment anyway and for Tony to be Tony and throw his money around. Plus seeing him walk in like nothing happened, act or not, yeah that shit hit deep.” You shrug your shoulders.
“Then let’s head up to your place and make the most of the rest of our night. I’ve got some time to make up for, and I’m all of a sudden ravenous.” The feral look in his eyes has you clenching your thighs together.
Not to be intimidated, you run a hand down his neck until it rests along the waistband of his dress slacks. “Yes, Sir.”
He lets out a deep growl, pulls you close by the back of your neck and lays the most devastating, soul consuming kiss on your lips. Pouring every emotion into. Conveying without words just how much you mean to him.
How could I have ever left this man behind?
You’ve barely made it through your apartment door before Bucky has you pinned against it.
“I don’t know wether to rip this dress off you and fuck you right here against this door or take my time sweet time and worship every inch of your skin like you deserve.”
“Who says you have to only pick one option? We have the whole night ahead of us, don't we Sir?”
“Fucking minx.” He steals another heated kiss and pulls away from your chasing lips, panting. “Where’s your room babygirl. I’ve decided taking you apart piece by piece on your bed is the best place to start.”
You close your eyes for a moment and suppress a moan. “Promises. Promises. Sir.”
Throwing him a wink, you lick your lips before turning and heading off down the hall. Sashaying your hips and divesting yourself of your dress right outside your bedroom door.
Now completely nude, you climb onto your bed. Just as you lie back, resting on your elbows with your knees bent and legs spread wide, drooling pussy on full display, Bucky’s large figure graces your doorway. Shirtless, he stalks over to the bed, unbuckling his pants and losing them along with his boxer briefs along the way.
He reaches the end of your bed. Eyes zeroed in on your glistening little slit. A feral grin slowly spreads across his face and he pounces. Before you know it your back hits the mattress of your king sized bed and Bucky is pushing your legs apart, resting your knees on his broad shoulders and laying kisses on your thighs.
“This is the only place I wanted to be for weeks. Couldn't stop thinking about all the little noises you make for me when I feast upon this sweet cunt. How you squirm when I hit the right spot with my tongue. Fuck . Just look at you babygirl, so wet for me you're dripping onto the sheets already.” He swipes his tongue up along your folds from entrance to clit, eliciting a moan from you. You’ve always been sensitive but you haven't even touched yourself in the weeks since you left. Too overcome in your grief. So just that little movement is almost too much already.
Clearly a man on a mission, he begins to devour you, wasting no time thrusting his tongue inside as deep as he can. The thick muscle massaging your silken walls, giving them something to clamp on to. “ Fuck, Bucky. That feels so good.”
Your hands are anchored in his hair, pulling on his silken strands, just enjoying the ride on his tongue he is giving you. When he swirls his tongue, pulls it out and then moves it to lightly draw infinity symbols on your clit you lose it.
A kaleidoscope of stars detonates behind your eyes as the orgasm slams into you. Gripping onto his locks tighter as you writhe beneath him, back arching off the mattress before you go boneless.
Coming back to your senses, you blink open your eyes and peer down at Bucky. His chin is glistening wet. A proud smile gracing his handsome face. Adoration shining in his icy blues. “There she is.” He laughs. “Had me worried for a minute there babygirl. Thought I might have made ya pass out. Looks like it was just one hell of an orgasm.”
A sweet smile adorns your blissed out face as you caress his damp cheeks. “One hell of an orgasm indeed.”
He begins to crawl up the bed towards you, leaving a path of kisses in his wake. His massive thighs push your legs further apart as he gives his turgid length a couple of slow strokes. He teases the thick head of his member along your folds, coating himself in your essence.
You lock eyes with him as you whimper. “Please.”
He leans forward, interlocking his hands in yours, placing a toe curling kiss to your lips as he enters the warmth of your cunt. Splitting you open on his generous girth. Pulling his hips back and leaving you no time to adjust as he begins to grind his hips down on yours with every thrust.
Foreheads pressed together, completely lost in this carnal dance of love and devotion. The room fills with the sounds of your passion. A symphony of moans and groans, accompanied with the sound of slick flesh meeting slick flesh.
“Nothing has ever felt as good as your pussy squeezing me so tightly when you lose yourself to your pleasure. I need you to come for me baby. Come around my cock. I’m not going to last much longer and I need to feel you let go for me.” He groans out between brutal thrusts.
It’s like his words have a direct link to your clit and with another well placed swivel of his hips you feel yourself lose control as your orgasm takes over. A rainbow of colors flash behind your eyes and the world sounds as if you're underwater.
Everything comes back into focus just as Bucky is reaching his own climax. Burying himself deep inside you as he bites down on your shoulder and paints your womb white with rope after rope of his seed. Panting, he leaves a gentle kiss on the mark his teeth left behind. You run your fingers through his dark tresses and kiss his nose.
“Fuck I missed that.” He blurts out as he comes down from his own high.
“Agreed. Although, I must admit. It’s never felt quite as intense before. Feral yes. But that was something else altogether. I want more.” The confession slips from your lips.
“I’d give you the world babygirl. All you have to do is ask.” He places a soft kiss on your lips. “Let’s make some good use of that large walk in shower I can see from here and get dirty while we get clean. A round two is much needed. I haven't had my fill of you yet tonight.”
You giggle as he rolls over, slides off the bed and proceeds to scoop you up in his arms and into the ensuite. “You weren’t kidding about making up for lost time.”
“Darlin’, I’ll never get enough of you.”
You awaken slowly, sunlight slipping in through the blinds and a sweet soreness throughout your body. You open your eyes to the beautiful sight of a sleeping Adonis laid beside you, as peaceful as you’ve ever seen him. You take a moment to just watch his chest rise and fall with each breath until a vibration against the nightstand to his right catches your attention.
You reach across Bucky’s prone frame to grab his phone. It seems that Steve has been sending texts and leaving messages for Bucky throughout the night. Having felt you move, he rouses from his slumber and nuzzles into your neck. “Not that I’m complaining about having you draped over me like a blanket, but what has you moving around so much already? I thought I wore you out last night.”
Turning the device in your hand towards his slowly waking eyes you respond. “Your phone. Apparently Steve needs your attention.”
He takes his phone from your hand and goes through all the texts and two voicemails left for him. He responds with a picture of the two of you together in bed.
I'm right where I'm supposed to be Pal. Don’t know when or if I’ll be home though.
This is how you spend the next week. Lazy days full of fucking, comfort food, dancing, smoking and watching movies. Just enjoying your time together in a little bubble. Bucky taunting Steve with pictures and videos of how you're spending days together. At one point even you get in on the torment, texting him back pics of Bucky cooking shirtless, in the shower, having a smoke or cuddled up on your lap.
Looks like breakfast is served.
Cleanse the skin of its many sins.
He just can’t seem to quit
He won’t let me move
Bucky is much more of an ass about it though. Sending provocative pics of you and rubbing in how badly he fucked up.
I’ll never get enough of kissing the breath out of her
Best morning view
Gonna have to thank Tony for this secret little room in her apartment.
Having enough of his moping and random fits of anger targeted at whoever was closest, Natasha decides it’s time to take things into her own hands. With some help from her friends of course. Wanting to help move things along, the Starks call a meeting with Steve to be held at the tower in their personal conference room located in their penthouse. They need to figure out if it's even worth letting you back into his life.
Surprisingly Tony is more than okay with Bucky cohabitating in sin with you here in the tower. The smile is back on your face and your laughter is filling the halls once more. But Steve has a bigger battle to fight, having betrayed your trust and he wants to make sure that he understands that.
The man of the hour walks in with a calm step and an air of malice in his cerulean eyes. The bags beneath them tell the story of a man suffering for his choices. Tony has been there before. That time when Pepper came to her senses and left him high and dry when he refused to commit to her, unwilling to give up his playboy ways. That’s when he first used your services. He needed someone on his arm for events and he just couldn’t handle bringing a new person each time. It would only aid in making what Pepper said about him true.
It was you who listened to him make drunken confessions of his true feelings for his former lover. That he did want to commit but he was afraid that he wasn't cut out for monogamy. That’s when you told him all about your non monogamous status. “Monogamy is great for those who chose to live that way. But for me, I’m just not content with only one lover in my life. I am polyamorous as well though. But don’t be confused. Not every non-mono person is that way. Some only want to play with others and keep emotions out of it and that’s ok. I for one am happy with multiple play partners as well as multiple full fledged relationships. To each their own ya know.” You gave a little shrug.
“It seems to me that the only amorous relationship you want is with her. You just want the option to play when an opportunity presents itself. And I’m willing to bet that you want her included in those sessions as well.” You can’t help wiggling your brows.
“That’s the dream isn’t it. Ya know, I think you two would like each other. Too bad I chased her away. The trouble we could all get in together. Mmmm.” He bites his lip and continues drinking his whiskey.
“Who says you can't win her back? Give me your phone.” He hands it over, unaware that you were going to change his life for the better.
Snapping out of his memories and giving attention back to the room full of his friends and fellow gangsters, he locks eyes with Steve. “Hello Steven.” He smirks. “You’re looking well.”
“Cut the crap Tony. What did you drag me here for?” He bites out.
“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa Cap. I brought you here for the benefit of your relationships but now I’m thinking I should have left it alone.” He runs his fingers over his goatee.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about that icy little boyfriend of yours and everyone's favorite escort. I’m sure you're more than aware of the love den they have been spending their time in. Licking their wounds and mending their heartbreak together.”
He quirks a brow. “Tony I don't have time for your bullshit. If you didn't bring me here for business then I’m gonna head out that door. I have better things that I could be doing with my time.”
“Like what? Taking out your anger at your colossal fuck up on your subordinates? Spending some more time between that Carter’s legs?” He declares with disdain.
With the quickness of a man half his size, Steve’s hand is wrapped around Tony’s throat. “You need to learn not to speak of things that don’t concern you.”
Pepper and Natasha rush forward. One afraid for her husband's safety, the other worried about the truce being broken due to her boss's emotional outburst. Men.
“Alright boys. Enough is enough. Steven, please let go of my husband. We really did bring you here to help you out. He’s just a little overprotective of her. We all are.” Pepper implores in her softest tone.
With Natasha’s help and a nudge from Sam he finally gives in and lets Tony’s neck go. “Thank you.”
He slumps back in his chair and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I know I fucked up. I let my allegiance to the Carter family blind me and allow my toxic ass ex to manipulate her way back into my life. In the process, regardless of my overly intoxicated state, I betrayed the love of my life, my best friend. As well as the only women who has ever truly understood our dynamic and accepted and loved us unconditionally. And I'm the idiot you didn't realize how madly in love with her I was until I watched her leave us that morning. Us. Not me, who deserved her wrath, but us. She couldn't bring herself to choose between us, even in her pain. I don’t fault Buck for leaving me to my misery to go after her.”
He scoffs. “They’ve been torturing me daily with pictures of their time spent together. I want that. I want back in their good graces but I have no idea how to fix what I broke or even if I can.”
Pepper places her hand on his shoulder. “Of course you can. I can’t speak for James, but I’ve never known her to not at least have an honest conversation. Start there, she’ll appreciate your honesty. Don’t complicate things. Lay all your cards on the table and let them lay down theirs. It’s that simple.”
“I’m willing to go that route. If I even knew where they were.” He sighs.
“Well, lucky for you Cap that Pep here never got rid of the little vixens apartment. And I have it on good authority that they ordered take out that will need to go through security before making it’s way up to them.” Rubbing his neck Tony says with a smirk.
“I’m gonna need you to intercept that order for me.”
You're cuddled up all cozy in Bucky’s lap, watching Bride Of Chucky, when the doorbell goes off.
“Must be the food. I’ll grab it, no need to pause. You know I have this memorized.” You lay a quick kiss on his cheek and make your way to the door.
Grabbing your wallet from the hall table you open the door and let out a gasp. Standing there with your take out in his hand and puppy dog eyes is none other than Steven Grant Rogers.
You have no idea how long you stand there, just staring at him.
“Hey babe, what’s taking so long? Can’t find your wallet again?” Bucky comes up behind and stops in his tracks when his eyes land on Steve. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Bucky.” You admonish.
“No, no, it’s okay. I get it.” He lets out a deep sigh. “I just wanted to talk to both of you. Tony and Pep helped me get up here. Please. I just want to talk. If you don't like what I have to say you can kick me out and I’ll never bother you again. That goes for you too Buck.”
You and Bucky share a look, before you open the door further and step aside. “Come on in, Steve.”
You head back to the living room, and have Steve place the food on the coffee table as you pause the movie and take a seat on the sofa next to Bucky.
Instead of sitting on the loveseat to the left of you, Steve lowers himself to his knees before you. “First and foremost, I’m sorry. I’m not even going to try and make excuses for it. Drunk or not, it shouldn't have happened. And I definitely shouldn’t have yelled at you when I was only angry at myself.”
He reaches for your hands, which you let him take. “You had every right to leave me. I’m an idiot. I love you and I let you slip away.” He turns to Bucky. “I’m sorry I even entertained her baby. I know how she makes you feel. Again, I’m an idiot.”
“Not gonna argue with you on that one.” Bucky says as he leans back against the couch.
“I can’t promise that I won’t fuck up again in some way. I am stubborn after all. But what I can promise is that I’ll try. I’ll give you both my all and do what is necessary to win your trust back. Just give me a chance. That’s all I’m asking.”
You look at Bucky. “Do you believe him? Do you believe he’s remorseful and truly ready to make amends?”
“Seeing as how I’ve only ever seen him on his knees when he’s servicing me and I placed him there. I’m gonna have to go with yes I think he means it. The decision is up to you though, Doll. From here on out. I go where you go.” He places a kiss on your cheek.
“Thank you for laying this all on my shoulders Buck.” You turn back to Steve and place a hand upon his face. He nuzzles into it. “I’m willing to give you a chance. But just the one. You’re going to have to really work to earn our trust back and we won't take it easy on you. You’re going to need to woo us all over again.”
“Challenge accepted.” He quickly agrees.
“How about a kiss to seal the deal?” You suggest.
He leans in. “With pleasure, Doll.” He wraps his hand in your hair and proceeds to get you drunk off his love.
#poc reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes smut#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers smut#mafia au#avengers au#stucky x reader#stucky smut
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
@taznovembercelebration - jewelry or blanket
"Just give Lup the ring," Taako said. "It's not that big of a deal," Taako said. "Stop being a fucking coward," Taako said. Well, uh, first of all, Taako, it was definitely a big deal. It's not like Barry had the suave and charm of Kravitz, who could swoop in and propose to Taako after they'd dated for only two years. Sure, Barry and Lup had been dating for a while but not that long. And what if she didn't want to get married? What if he screwed it up? What if he did it at the wrong moment? What if-
What if he fell asleep with his jean jacket on after a date when he had once again tried to work himself up to propose and when he woke up, the ring box was missing from his pocket?
So, no, Taako, it wasn't that easy. Especially if the love of your life was still sleeping and you were quietly panicking and attempting to move the blankets without waking her up.
Barry was an idiot. An idiot with a doctorate but still an idiot nonetheless. Science was easy. Science didn't have feelings and, therefore, he could not ruin his relationship with it. With science, he could experiment and mess up and try again, with Lup? He didn't want to fuck this up. He loved her. A lot. Maybe too much.
And she was sleeping on the goddamn ring.
Barry could see it from where he was sitting. All the other pillows and blankets had been deposited on the floor in his search but the second he looked under the one Lup was curled up in, he could see it near her ribs, half wedged underneath her back.
Okay. Okay, okay, okay. He could do this. All he had to do is more Lup over like, a little bit. A small, minuscule amount. It was like looking at something under a microscope. Easy. Fun. Weird little squirming dots and lines- no, that didn't make sense. Very, very gently, he slipped his hand under Lup's back, carefully turning her to face the one way. He held his breath and stopped when the ring was free, propping Lup up on her side.
He took the ring. And, slowly, slowly, he began to put Lup back in place. Pulling softly on her shoulder, he lowered her back down. When he was finished, he scrambled to get the ring box in his hands and popped it open.
The ring was gone. Fuck.
"Looking for somethin', Bar?"
Barry snapped his head up to see Lup, looking a little bleary-eyed, but grinning. Between her pointer finger and her thumb, she held up the ring.
Fuck.
"Fuck," Barry said.
"You're such a doofus," Lup said, turning over to face him. She pulled on Barry's shirt to get him to lie down. He laughed a little, breathless, both from nerves and just because he loved her so much. "Taako said you've had this for a month."
"Fuck," Barry said again. Lup broke into giggles next to him, shuffling forward to hide her head in his neck. "He said he wouldn't tell you!"
"Babe, Taako tells me everything," Lup said. "Have you seen him trying to lie?"
"Unfortunately," Barry said, resting his head against Lup's. Lup slowly stopped giggling and Barry found himself smiling despite the situation. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, where Lup lifted her head to press little kisses along his jaw. Barry wrapped an arm around her, holding her closer.
"What were you nervous about?" Lup whispered.
"Just- y'know..." Barry said. He signed, shuffling back a little. "I get too worked up about and then I psych myself out and then I start feeling weird that like, you won't wanna spend the rest of your life with me. I know we've talked it through before and stuff, but it's just- I love you a lot, Lup, and I don't wanna- I don't wanna fuck that up. 'Cuz it's gotta be special."
"Hm," Lup said. She brought a hand up to his face, lacing her fingers in his hair. "I get that. I also don't wanna fuck this up. But I think that, uhm, at this point, babe? Even if things do get weird, in a bad way, I mean, we can work to fix it. I've known you almost my entire life and I love you so much. Nothing you can do is gonna make me not love you. I know you have- worries-" Barry snorted and Lup grinned a little. "But really. We got this. If you wanna wait on it, then we can, but you are my forever. Got that?"
"Got it," Barry said. Lup leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips. "Thank you."
"No prob, hot stuff," Lup said. She reached for his hands and pressed the ring into it. "You wanna try again?"
"Ehh," Barry said. "I kinda wanna sleep. After, maybe?"
"After works," Lup said, pulling her blanket up. She paused, clearly thinking. "You gotta get your blankets off the floor, though, 'cus I'm not gonna share with you."
"That's, uh, that's fair," Barry said, scooting towards the edge of the bed. "I'll get 'em."
#taz nc#taz november celebration#barry bluejeans#lup#blupjeans#taz#taz balance#mine#ise cube writing
57 notes
·
View notes
Note
are we doing this? because i’ll do it *rips my soul right out of my chest and hands it over wrapped and tied with a pretty little bow* can i ask what’s Nathan and a baby like? (only if you’d like to write it of course <3)
*unties bow*
*ties back hair with said bow*
*Shoves actual soul into different drawer with a false bottom than soul contracts labeled 'Paid in Full'*
I feel like I've covered this like a little bit with Little Talks but that's mostly Nathan-with-baby-while-pregnant
Warnings: Cursing, smidge of angst, Nathan being a dick, ends in fluff
I don't think Nathan's a baby guy. He might be a kid guy, you know, once they're old enough to form more complex thoughts.
He's really not a kid guy if you put your foot down on not doing cognitive tests on the baby.
He tries at first at the facility, saying that he'll feed the kid and give you a break.
And then you find out lately that he's been putting the child in little constructed mazes and timing how long it takes them to reach their bottle
Nathan with a baby is either a complete dick or kinda nice
Like if he's having a bad day and hears the baby crying, he's yelling for something or someone to get the kid to "shut the hell up!"
If he's having an okay kinda day, he'll just chat with the child like he's older than he is, but not in, like, that way that helps cognitive processes.
Like sure, it probably helps a bit, but Nathan is still kinda being a dick. To a baby.
"So what'd you do today?...Blocks, really? That's a little juvenile."
"What are you eating?...Milk, again? Doesn't that ever get boring? You really need to switch it up on your palate."
"You still don't have teeth? Jesus, get it together."
It's honestly probably better if you and the baby don't stay at the facility.
This is for a couple of reasons.
1) While it's good to have room for the kid to roam, the literal wilderness may be a bit much.
2) Nathan can't stand clutter or mess unless he's drunk and he's the one that caused it, and as long as it'll be gone in the morning.
And if there isn't even clutter—if there's a baby book or a toy or a pacifier something on the coffee table, he's like, "What the fuck is this doing here."
"It's the baby's, Nathan. Remember, the baby we had?"
"Yeah, but why is it in here? He's got his own room."
"You're kidding, right?"
"No. Keep his shit in his room."
Look, Nathan can be reasonable when he wants to be, but the messiness and unpredictability that comes with having a child is not something he'd enjoy.
I really think you and the baby would settle into your own rhythms if you're living somewhere else, and you'd lapse on FaceTiming him
And that's when Nathan notices how much he misses you, and the kid, and the updates
He needs time to miss someone, and the physical space is just one aspect of that
So if you're in a city somewhere—
If you remove yourself and the child to an area and a point where Nathan has to come into the city if he wants to see you both
It's...Better. He's more likely to be nice.
He still cuts the baby little glares at first when he starts crying, and then Nathan's up, grumbling, "Alright alright, whaddaya want. Did you shit again?"
But it's always nice to wake up and find him holding the child as he pours himself some coffee.
"Where's your mom, huh?" He's murmuring, shifting from foot to foot as he does. "She still sleeping? She still in bed like a lazyass?"
"We said no cursing around the baby," You chastise tiredly.
"You said no cursing around the baby. I never agreed to that."
You roll your eyes, sighing. "I'll get the bottle."
"It's cooling."
You spot the bottle on the counter, brows raised.
"Well look at you."
"Yeah, look at me. By the way."
"Mm?"
Nathan sets the coffee pot down before he reaches out, tugging you in for a kiss. "Morning."
"...Hi there," You mumble, resting your hand on his chest, and smiling when the baby whines for attention. "Are you having fun with daddy? Mm? Is daddy not being a s-h-i-t-h-e-a-d?"
"Oh, so we can spell curses?"
"Of course we can, he can't spell yet."
"What happens once he can?"
"We will burn that bridge when we get to it."
#Nathan Bateman x Reader#Nathan Bateman x You#Nathan Bateman/Reader#Nathan Bateman/You#Nathan Bateman fic#Nathan Bateman imagine#asks#replies#anon#requests#Pregnancy cw#Pregnancy mention
167 notes
·
View notes
Text
Close Friends - Pt 2 (NSFW)
Part 1 here
This was an unplanned Pt 2. Rereading the first one made me think that it can be continued, then ideas just came and...well.
Long-ass at 15k words. Grab some popcorn.
There's some (fictitious, consensual) drug use
Kiki is something here.
NSFW, MDNI, etc.
“Rosa.” Vyn put down his tablet onto the glass surface of the conference table, brows creased. “There is something wrong with the numbers in the report you’ve uploaded in our database. Have you checked with Luke for the updates from the NSB laboratory before you put these in the system?”
The doctor—now functioning as the most senior member of the NXX Investigation Team—swung his swivel chair to face the holographic display projected against the wide wall of the NXX Headquarters’ conference room. A few taps on his smartphone switched the display to show the data in question. “There is a discrepancy of more than ten percent when compared to NSB’s report of increase in drug related activity in Area 9H. Luke, can you confirm?”
“Huh.” Luke, seated at the farthest end of the conference table, squinted at the display, running the numbers through his head. “Er. It is off by 19.7 percent, to be precise. But I can’t make out the error in distribution off the top of my head. Sorry.”
“Yes. Which is tantamount to losing whatever lead we had,” Vyn sighed as he took off his glasses to rub his eyes. "Since we cannot determine the possible entry points among the harbors in this district."
Rosa fidgeted in her seat. “I’ll…I’ll fix it…”
“By the time it gets fixed, Rosa, the trail would have gone cold.” Vyn put his glasses back on. “It would take me several hours checking the numbers and straightening them. And I have several items on my plate already,” he said, a slight trace of misgiving in his voice.
“Richter, if there are any mistakes in the numbers, only your judgment is to be blamed,” Artem said, tersely. “Why did you even assign Rosa to—”
“I assigned it to her because I have faith in her capabilities, Wing,” Vyn cut in. “And yes, I know that this is merely a one-time, elementary lapse, which unfortunately had dire consequences.” Then, to Rosa, “Please stay here for a bit and help me sort out the data. Two heads will make quick work of the inconsistency.”
“No need for you to burden Rosa any further,” Artem said. “As her boss, I will take responsibility—”
“You are currently in NXX, Wing, not Themis Law,” Vyn reminded the senior attorney, an unmistakable jagged edge in his voice. “And do not forget that you have your own task, as equally important as hers, if not even more so.”
Rosa only looked down at her hands folded on her lap. Then, with a quiet voice, “Yeah. I’ll fix it.”
“Both of us will fix it,” Vyn said. “We cannot afford any delays. We will need to make sure we get an accurate projection by…” He checked his wristwatch. “Seven hours from now, give or take. Can you pull an all-nighter here, Rosa?”
“Y-yes, that’s no problem, Dr. Richter—”
“Richter! That’s too much, she still has work to do tomorrow.”
“Literally lives are at stake, Wing, if that still needs to be emphasized.” Vyn was gradually losing his cool. “I will not tolerate any one of us being deadweight in our team who requires hand holding, we are already lean enough as it is—”
“I am not a deadweight!” Rosa’s voice reverberated loudly across the conference room. “God damn it, I hate being talked about as if I am not here!”
Vyn merely looked at her silently, expression unreadable.
“Rosa, let’s—” Artem’s words were cut off with an elbow jab to his side, courtesy of Marius.
“Just shut up,” he hissed to the lawyer in a stage whisper. “Read the fucking room. Do you think Miss will leave without fixing this mess?”
===
Luke, Artem, and Marius had already left the conference room.
Vyn and Rosa remained, both of them not speaking to each other.
Vyn watched the CCTV camera feed intently through his smartphone; Rosa stood near the holographic display, her eyes staring at the numbers yet not really looking at them. Her back was turned towards the doctor; her arms crossed.
A dead, cloying silence hung thickly around them.
Not one of them uttered a single word; the only sounds between them were the faint sound capture from the CCTV coming from the speakers on Vyn’s phone, and the faint tapping sound of Rosa’s fingers against her arm.
The silent stalemate lasted for only a few minutes, finally ending as Vyn broke the silence.
“They have left,” was all he said, voice devoid of any emotion or inflection.
The screen displayed on his phone showed Artem’s car finally pulling out of the NXX Headquarters basement parking lot, the last vehicle to finally leave the premises.
“Really,” murmured Rosa.
Vyn did not get a chance to put his smartphone down when his swivel chair suddenly turned around; his chair spun so quickly that the momentum knocked the phone out of his hand and sent it clattering across the smooth, cold floor.
“Rosa, wha—” The rest of his words did not make it through his lips.
The junior lawyer bent down to force her tongue into his mouth; wedging one knee between his thighs and both of her arms clinging to the armrests on either side of him, she effectively caged Vyn in her trembling arms, her arms that betrayed the tension she had to endure for those few minutes that she had to restrain herself from having her way with him.
No words were said: Their lips locked with such ferocity that Rosa eventually straddled his lap, arms coiled tightly around his shoulders while their tongues hungrily slid against each other.
Not one to be outdone, Vyn's hands slid down her back until they settled on her ass. Impatient hands kneaded the swell of both cheeks through the fabric of her skirt, pushing her pelvis closer against his to make Rosa feel the growing erection in his pants, as he grinded his hips against hers.
Rosa tugged at his wine-red necktie hard; hard enough to make the man dry humping her from underneath wince in pain.
“What the hell were you trying to pull?” she demanded, as her other hand grabbed a fistful of Vyn’s silver locks and pulled it down, turning his face upwards towards hers. “This was the only time I made an error!”
“The only time, yes. Still, mistakes were made, which need to be rectified, my darling,” Vyn said, his voice strangled. “But before that, you look like you need a fuck.”
“Indeed I do,” Rosa whispered, her hands letting go of his necktie and now mussed-up moonlight silver hair. “I need some stress relief, Dr. Richter.” Her fingers found the buckle of his belt, fumbling as she nibbled on his lower lip. “Think you can let me blow off steam?”
A low, menacing laugh came from his throat. “Too bad, my precious pet, I also need some relief. It has been a long day and your lapse is not helping. At all.” Vyn said before sucking hard on her tongue, feeling perverse pleasure in hearing the lusty moans coaxed out of her mouth. “But only one of us can be on top. Coin toss?”
"Mmm. Sure," Rosa hummed against his lips now red and slightly swollen with the heavy kissing. "Need a coin?"
"Yes please," Vyn takes the Stellin coin Rosa produced from the inner pocket of her blazer. "Now, heads or tails for you?" He leaned in for yet another lingering kiss. "I do not mind either outcome, but I do so need to relieve my own pent-up stress."
"Heads," Rosa whispered as she finally undid the zipper of his trousers. "Mmm…would really feel nice if I can give you head," she remarked as she grasped his swollen cock, freeing it out of his underwear. "I missed this…"
"Patience, my love," Vyn drawled as he palmed the coin, then tossed it high up above them with a flick of his wrist. As the gold coin fell to the rules of gravity his hand shot up and caught it in midair. "Well then. Will the lady get to ride her favorite doctor, or will I get to…" he licked his lips, slowly, as his lustful gaze held Rosa's eyes misted over with anticipation. "...eat my little beloved all up on top of the conference table?"
Rosa laughed breathily as she nibbled on his neck, her hand slowly jerking him off. "Your stress relief is to eat me out?"
"Mmm—why not?" Vyn held out his closed fist holding the coin. "Let the coin decide.”
He slowly opened his fist.
But they never knew what the result was: Rosa had, with as much force that she could muster, batted Vyn’s coin-bearing hand away, sending the coin flying to the floor.
Silence once again draped over them like a thick veil.
“Would you like to explain yourself, Rosa.” Vyn said, enunciating his words slowly, with very little inflection to his tone. “I have my own stress to consider. Even I have my limits, pet. And I am still upset over the data.”
“Riding my favorite doctor is nice,” Rosa said, repeating Vyn’s words from earlier. “But, not exactly what I really want to do.” She took his throbbing cock in her hand once again, a smile spreading on her face when she felt Vyn’s body shudder—despite his misgivings—with every up-down movement of her wrist as she worked up his shaft. “It’s still the same thing as before, Dr. Richter. I want this in my mouth. You do know what I am getting at?”
“Hahh—haha…” A rare red flush suffused over Vyn’s cheeks. “You…you are proposing that we relieve each other’s stress?” He planted a small kiss on her smug lips, pulling away with a teasing lick. “At the same time?”
“Like what happened in the priest smut novel you borrowed, yes,” She massaged the underside of his tip with her thumb. “I always wanted to do something like that. Since your stress relief is to…well…” Rosa let her voice trail off, staring intently at the man now panting heavily, open mouthed, underneath her touches.
“My little succubus,” Vyn breathed. “I accept your proposal.”
With great urgency they laid themselves out on the conference table, both of them quite eager to receive from and give each other pleasure: Vyn, still fully clothed, lying flat on his back over the glass surface; Rosa, also fully clothed but with her skirt now hiked up and gathered around her waist, clambering over him with her hips straddling his face.
“So, the sixty-nine,” Vyn murmured underneath Rosa as his fingers tore into the crotch of her pantyhose. He was amply rewarded with the sight of Rosa’s moist cunt barely covered by scant lace; she obviously came to the Headquarters prepared for something that did not involve accurate data analysis and projection. “...is something that had piqued my interest, but have not had any chance to—aahh, fuck.”
Rosa’s lips enveloping his cockhead effectively cut off his train of thought.
He hissed through his teeth, struggling to keep his wits together even as her lips tightly wrapped around his cock descended even lower, taking in more of him inside her hot, wet mouth, tongue swirling against his shaft. “Rosa,” he moaned. “Rosa—”
His sweet singing of her name was rewarded by Rosa sucking his cock in her mouth.
His chanting of her name soon transitioned into lust-filled, needy groans and whimpers. "Rosa, hahh—yes, you are doing so good…" His voice cracked, sounding as if he was almost crying in rapture.
After some time Rosa slipped his cock out of her mouth and said, “Dr. Richter, your voice is really making me horny,” she moved her hips a little. “Please, I need you to…”
“Haahhh—my apologies,” Vyn's fingers finally ripped through the black lace panties, her throbbing flesh now in full display right above his face. “Tell me your preferences in underwear and stockings later,” he whispered, before he grabbed her ass with both hands, pushing her hips down to let him lick her cunt with abandon. “I will—I will—haahh—”
Vyn was going to tell her that he intended to buy her replacements for the underthings that he tore; that he was also going to have a full lingerie set custom-made for her, for her to parade in for his pleasure.
Yet his words receded back into his throat at Rosa’s every lick, every suck, and little kisses on his dick. Left without words, Vyn’s response to her was to slather loving attention to her clit, sucking on it and relishing the way Rosa’s thighs squirmed at every flick of his tongue, her thighs pressing against either side of his head…
“Ah. Did you need this, Rosa?” Vyn eventually managed to rasp out, lips thickly coated with her juices. One of his hands slid down from her ass, fingertips slightly lodged in the entrance to her pussy. “I’d rather fuck you with my dick, but I am quite comfortable where it is, at the moment.”
“S-stop teasing me and just fuck me…”
“Heh.”
Three fingers plunged into her cunt, and Rosa cried out in utter delight.
“And the lady shall be thoroughly fucked,” Vyn murmured, more to himself.
Wet, fucking sounds echoed rhythmically in the cold, almost forbidding conference room, as Vyn thrusted his long fingers deep within her flesh in a measured cadence, with force enough to jostle her body forward every time his fingers plunged inside.
“Mmmph–!!” Rosa—her mouth still full of Vyn—moaned with his cock almost pressing against the back of her throat, letting him feel the full brunt of the vibrations resulting from the guttural sound.
“Shit,” Vyn muttered. He was getting near. “Rosa, I am almost…you should—”
Once again, his thoughts were cut off by her sucking; Rosa had doubled down on her efforts. The once faint sounds of her blowjob have turned loud, wet, and downright obscene.
“Rosa, please,” Vyn begged. “I cannot hold back, so pull away—hnngh!”
His beloved’s fingers cupped and gently kneaded his balls, while giving his cock a good, strong suck.
His total undoing.
Without warning, even to himself, Vyn suddenly blanked out, and most of his hot come shot directly into Rosa’s mouth; when she let his cock slip out of her mouth he was still coming, and her face was streaked with his hot, white fluid.
“Fuck,” he groaned into Rosa’s cunt.
When he regained full control of his senses Vyn saw it fit to repay her in double: once again he fucked her with three fingers, with even more vigor, enough to move her body with every plunge and pull. His hungry lips and tongue—insatiable, desperate to be imprinted with Rosa's flavor—worked her clit, alternating with licking and sucking her sensitive bud.
The shivering tension that he could feel through Rosa’s thighs betrayed just how near she was.
“Vyn, please, don’t stop, don’t stop, I’m…almost…”
He sucked on her clit hard.
“Aaah—VYN!” Rosa’s shrill cry bounced off the walls, her inner walls twitching around his still-fucking fingers.
Vyn. She calls me Vyn in the throes of heavy sexual arousal and climax…
“Yess…you do like this, do you not?” Vyn hissed as he helped her ride out her orgasm with flicks of his tongue onto her clit. “Still stressed out?”
Rosa slumped over his thighs, her lips planting a soft kiss on his cock now almost half-mast. “I just want to sleep, but…work to do.”
“While I do appreciate that you have our work in mind, there is merit to taking a little break for a rest.” Vyn murmured, an arm slung over his eyes, catching his breath. “Think you can…cuddle with me for a bit, my love?”
“Mm.” Rosa shifted her position on top of him, letting her bury her face in his neck. She took a deep breath, and sighed. “This conference table is hard and uncomfortable, but you’re warm and nice and smell so good…” she murmured lazily.
Vyn let out a soft chuckle as he slid an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him. “I am glad. You are also soft. And warm.” He bent a little to the side to nuzzle her hair. “You also smell and taste good.”
With a gentle finger he tipped Rosa’s face towards his, allowing him to fully behold the traces of debauchery on her face: traces of his almost dried come streaked her flushed visage. “Ah…let me clean you up,” he whispered as he shimmied a little and pulled out his handkerchief from his back pocket. Tenderly he wiped her face clean of his come, and when done he gave her a peck on her lips. “There. All clean.”
Rosa’s lips curved into a small smile, then leaned forward to lick his lips and chin.
“Rosa, darling. What are you doing?” Vyn asked, all too amused.
“Cleaning your face, too,” Rosa replied, before slipping her tongue between his lips and they kissed deeply, languorously. Taking their sweet time as their lips and tongue moved against each other’s.
Vyn had to break away for the kiss. He was getting hard again. “Rosa, we cannot afford to lose more time,” he murmured, a small smile playing on his lips. “There is urgent work to be done.”
“I know, I know,” Rosa said. “Dr. Richter…I really like this arrangement that we have.” Once again she buried her face in the crook of his neck. “I’ve never felt better…”
Ah…
Vyn felt a part inside of him die, along with her words.
An arrangement. Was this only an ‘arrangement’ for her?
“Is this merely an arrangement?” he murmured, not entirely addressing it to the woman slumped over him.
“Mm? What do you mean?” Rosa looked at him with her big, questioning, olive gaze. “By arrangement I mean…well…we can call each other for um.” A blush bloomed from her neck, eventually engulfing her face with a pink heated flush. “When we need relief…”
Vyn could only manage a half-smile as numerous pinpricks of sad disappointment pierced his poor, vulnerable heart. “Ah. Yes. Yes, of course.”
Of course.
Just an arrangement.
Vyn was not surprised.
Yet he still felt immense regret and disappointment.
===
“So, you’re telling me, you’ve been, er, intimate with this girl, and still she thinks you’re only friends?” The bar’s Owner did not bother hiding the pure schadenfreude in his amused tone.
It was a tone that truly belonged in the atmosphere of his bar, The Abyss: Den of thieves, smugglers, hired killers, and other sundry undesirables who belonged in Stellis City’s shadows. A place that did not take kindly to people who stood on the right side of the law.
The Owner merely smiled at the silver-haired man half-slumped over the bar counter, an empty glass spinning right in front of him.
“...Like I said, yes,” came Vyn’s quiet reply. His hand idly played with the empty whiskey glass, spinning it on the small puddle of moisture it created on the varnished wooden surface. Sullen gold eyes bereft of their usual brightness passively looked on as the glass spun on its axis.
“Hah! Serves you right, shrink,” The Owner hummed happily from behind the counter, obviously in good spirits. “So even your magic mind tricks have their limits. That’s good to know,” he grinned as he wiped down a freshly washed wine glass before setting it on the wine glass rack.
His words seemed to have struck a nerve in the doctor; Vyn’s eyebrow twitched imperceptibly, his jaw set.
The Owner, ever observant, grinned. “Ohoh? I first pegged this as a case of wounded pride, but don’t tell me…you really are in love, aren’t you?” His smile twisted into one of pure gloating. “Even the ice prince of Stellis City is capable of losing his mind over a girl?”
Vyn’s upper lip curled in distaste. “Is that what they are calling me these days?”
“A few birdies did, yes.” The Owner said as he took out a bottle of bourbon off a shelf, and laid out a few other ingredients on his work table. “They are asking me about a…certain silver-haired pretty boy they sometimes see by the counter playing with cards. ‘Such nice hands!’ they said,” the Owner scoffed as he started to prepare a drink. “If they only knew…”
“Birdies…you mean, the sparrows?”
The Owner raised his eyebrows. “So the shrink knows the parlance,” he said, approvingly. “Yes, the sparrows. Three of them, at least. They want to see you, you know,” the Owner said as his fingers placed a lime wedge garnish on the drink he was preparing. “The sparrows; they are discerning with who they bed outside of missions, you see? Consider yourself honored. And lucky.”
“Not interested,” Vyn murmured. “And men who fall for their charms deserve to either die or find themselves bereft of fortune the next morning.”
The Owner flashed Vyn a knowing smile. “Do have faith when I say they like you…really like you,” he said, taking away the empty whisky glass in front of Vyn, replacing it with another filled with an amber-colored liquid on the rocks. A wedge of lime garnish sat on the rim of the glass. “Here. On the house, for our lovelorn shrink.” He smirked. “You look like you need it.”
“What is this?” Vyn lifted the glass, peering at it as he inspected the glass and its contents as if he would do evidence, on the rare chances he accompanied Rosa during some of their assignments.
“A trade secret,” the bar Owner said with a cryptic smile on his face. “But you’ll find that you need it. Trust me.”
“Hmm.” Vyn took another good look at the swirling liquid the color of dark caramel. Then, with a swiftness that took even the Owner aback, knocked back the entire contents in three full gulps.
The glass landed back onto the counter with a resounding thud.
Vyn’s lips spread into a wan smile. “Well then,” he said, “Let us see what the drug you slipped in can do,” he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “You need to work on your sleight of hand if you want to sneak in something in people’s drinks.”
The Owner let out a guttural laugh. “You knew, and yet you still drank it? Fucking madlad,” He shook his head. “I always knew I’d be entertained whenever you drop by.”
“Glad to be of service.” Vyn felt his limbs slightly go numb. Ah. Not a common sedative. My awareness seems to be intact. Yet the motor functions…I will be back to normal after a couple hours, give or take, once the drug metabolizes…
Realization dawned on him. “This drug affects motor functions only...you were planning to send me off somewhere?” Vyn murmured, licking his lips. My mouth is going dry. “Who? How much did they offer you?”
The Owner grinned. “I’m sending you off to the sparrows for a bit. And no, no offer, but, I really think you just need the fucking of your life to cure yourself of that stupid lovesickness of yours. It does not become you, shrink.” A pause. “Just say yes, and I’ll have them…retrieve you.”
“Heh. Bold of you to assume what is in my best interests,” Vyn said as he mustered all he had to push himself off the counter seating. “I do not like to fuck strangers,” he said, voice clipped—or what passed to be one, in his drugged state. Even breathing is becoming constricted. But all I need to do is wait it out. “I best take my leave.”
“You sure you don’t want to play with them?” The Owner asked after him. “I am very rarely this generous with my clientele, you know. And there’s at least three of them willing to bed you, at the same time.”
“You mean you do not want to miss a chance to get on their good side,” Vyn now stumbled his way to the door, trying his hardest to wrest control of his limbs. He cared not about how undignified he appeared at the moment. Right foot. Left foot. Grab hold of the door knob. “I shall not be party to your networking. I bid you a good night, my friend.”
The Owner sighed as he left. “Fine. Pity. But, do be careful on your way home. If you can find your way, that is.”
“I will.”
It was an odd sensation, especially when Vyn himself was experiencing it: he still possessed full mental acuity, yet his limbs were not responding accordingly. Vyn struggled to have his hands grab whatever he could hold on to, just to keep himself upright on the way to the exit.
He inwardly laughed at himself. He drank the questionable drug-laced drink. Why? It was not the ideation of suicidal thoughts—that was farthest from his mind, and there were much larger things that needed to be done, on the horizon. And he knew the Owner, and his twisted sense of humor.
The idea of leaving things to chance, to finally let go and let things take their own course, to throw himself into the open elements where there are so many uncertain factors…the idea seemed refreshing.
Liberating, in a twisted sense.
The truth was, Vyn was getting tired.
His was an exhaustion that blotted out all sense of priorities; there were things that needed to be done. Some life-threatening. All of them were cases against public safety. And yet he was willing to tear himself down over the affections of a single woman.
One woman, a single life among many who needed saving.
The only woman who upended his life, all with a single smile and her hands that toppled over his proverbial house of cards, one which he painstakingly built over time…
He managed to force open the heavy wooden door that led out of the Abyss and into the shadowy, light-speckled nightscape of Stellis City. The night breeze felt cool against his skin, now blazing hot with a drug-induced flush.
Stumbling out of the bar, he managed to hold onto the pedestrian railing and avoid a perfect face plant onto the sidewalk.
Easy does it.
His car was parked quite a ways away, a few blocks, yet the path towards it was straightforward from the Abyss’s location. Vyn could easily support himself upright while holding on to the pedestrian railing on his way back to the car…
It felt like he was walking for an eternity. Drugs may muddle sense of time, Vyn recalled. This instance was a perfect example. The fact that he had to be conscious of his every draw and exhale of breath certainly did not help.
“Dr. Richter?” a perky voice cut through the darkness of the surroundings. “Are you okay?”
That voice. Vyn looked up, and his bleary eyes were met by Kiki’s worried gaze. “Miss Bennett.” His voice came out raspy, breathing now becoming labored. “Fancy bumping into you on this fine evening,” he said, as if he was not hunched over the railing, ready to tip over.
“Well, yeah, good evening to you too, but…” Kiki reached out to grab one of his upper arms, pulling him up. He must have looked worse than he thought. “Are you…drunk?”
“You act as if this is not your first time encountering a drunk in the streets,” Vyn murmured as he let Kiki sling his arm over her shoulders. “Nor helping one.”
“Eh, I see a lot of…ugh, you’re heavy…casualties around the gig venues,” Kiki grunted under the weight of the taller man. “The things I do to chase autographs…um, where were you going? Lemme help you.”
“I am on my way to my car.”
“Lol. You can’t drive in this state.” Kiki held onto his wrist firmly, locking his arm across her shoulder in place as they started to walk, slowly. “But, let me help you on the way there anyway…”
“I was planning to sleep this off in the safety of my car. Do not worry about me.” Vyn said, now acutely aware of the fact that he let a mere acquaintance witness one of the lowest points in his life, and for what? A mere trifle. Certainly one he would probably kick himself over in a later dictaphone rambling. But that was for later. “You do not need to trouble yourself over me, Miss Bennett. And it is quite a late hour.”
“Geez, you and Rosa are alike in some ways,” Kiki muttered as she half dragged, half carried Vyn along the pedestrian path. “Anyway, I do have a driver’s license. Want me to drive your car to your place instead?”
We are alike in some ways? That is surprising, Vyn mused.
He was going to ask more about it, but his consciousness had started to turn dim. This is dangerous. I may go out any moment now. “Y-yes. I…appreciate it.” His sight was already dimming. This drug’s effect is worse than I thought. “Miss Bennett, if I ever lose consciousness, do not bring me to the hospital, and…my keys…wallet…back pocket…”
“Huh?!” Kiki heaved at the now deadweight of a doctor slumped over her small shoulders. “Dr. Richter? Dr. Richter?”
===
When he came to, he was already laid out on the sofa in his living room.
How…
Gingerly he tried to move his fingers, and toes. All of his extremities responded, and his sense of touch seemed intact. Good.
“Oh hey, you’re finally awake! I sorta helped myself to your kitchen. Made some coffee. Hope you’re okay with it.”
A short-haired girl sporting a hair band sat on one of his living room chairs, her feet tucked underneath her haunches. An open book in her hands.
Sharp, observant eyes, behind big round glasses, looked at him intently.
She must have been waiting for me to come around.
Vyn, having proper etiquette engraved into his very being, struggled to sit himself into a proper posture befitting for greeting a guest.
Bones creaked as he propped his back against the backrest. Some joints popped. It seemed that he laid down, unmoving, in a rather uncomfortable position on the sofa for an inordinate length of time.
“Miss Bennett…” Faint memories of what happened last night flowed into his head. “I really do apologize for causing you trouble.” He winced in pain. His temples hurt. “And I do not mind you helping yourself to anything in the kitchen. There are some…baked goods in the fridge, should you be hungry.”
Kiki peered at him from where she sat. “Er…you don’t look too good. Do you need medicine? Where do you stash them?”
“My first aid kit is in the medicine cabinet located in my bathroom, first door to your right along the corridor.”
“Got it!”
Kiki scrambled for the bathroom, dropping the book she was reading onto the floor. The cover clearly showed. The priest novel has a new volume, he noted despite the haze of migraine.
She returned in less than a minute. “Here,” Kiki placed a nondescript white pouch onto his lap. She also held a glass of water ready.
“Thank you.” Vyn rummaged through his pouch to locate a blister pack of headache pills specific to his usual type of migraine, and popped a couple into his mouth; washing them down with several gulps of water from the proffered glass.
“Thank you,” he said again, closing his eyes. And now, we wait for the headache to subside…
It only took around half an hour for Vyn to start feeling like himself again. Headache gone, he finally managed to notice the sliver of light trickling in through the French windows.
Morning had already broken.
“Are you feeling okay now?” Kiki peeked at him over her book, not even bothering to hide the risque cover. Vyn supposed that she didn’t feel any need to, not when she knew he borrowed the previous volume from Rosa. “You were, er. Calling for Rosa in your sleep.”
“Ah. Did I?” Vyn gave her a taut smile. “That would make this the second time you have seen me at my lowest point. I would appreciate it if you keep this from your friend.” He held her gaze intently. “Please. This is very important.”
Kiki nodded. Vyn appreciated that she could somehow understand. “Yeah. You sounded like you were upset, so I didn’t bother letting her know about what happened to you. I thought you guys were fighting.”
She did not waste any time and went straight to asking the most important question: “What happened between you and Rosa, anyway? She doesn’t seem to be bothered. But you?” Her brows furrowed in concern. "You sure look like you have a story to tell."
Vyn sighed, more upset at himself than anyone else for being too transparent for his liking. He did not have much energy to put on masks at the moment, certainly not around people with the same level of curiosity as Kiki Bennett. “Does Rosa say anything to you about me at all?” he asked instead.
Kiki blinked at his question. After some thought, she said, “Yeah. She sometimes tells me about your lessons, and the places you both visited. How good you are at making desserts. Things like that. And, um.” She chewed on her lower lip, and added, “...how you’re a really great friend.”
Vyn winced. Of course.
“Judging by your face and how you almost cried out her name in your sleep…you’re stuck in the friendzone, aren’t you?”
“That is one way of putting it,” Vyn laughed at the absurdity of such crude terminology used on him, and the laugh was so bitter Kiki did not know how to react to it. “If being intimate with her still has her consider me ‘a really great friend’, I have to admit I am at a loss on how to further proceed.”
Kiki’s eyes widened at the mention of the word ‘intimate’ but quickly recovered.
“So even you can have these kinds of problems,” Kiki said, finally putting down her book. “Didn’t really expect it. You look so put together you make everything seem effortless.”
“So they say,” Vyn said, taking on the tone he usually employed in classes and lectures, talking about himself as if he were his own case study. “Of course, people can only see the outward, curated image. They do not see the hard work and effort required to support the illusion.”
He felt like having a cigarette, but considering the present company he thought the better of it.
“The illusion?” Kiki’s head tilted to one side, inquiringly. “What do you mean? Your achievements are legit, right? Even your skills when you played the keytar onstage.”
“By ‘illusion’, I mean how effortless all of it seems to other people,” Vyn said as he stood up to stretch his limbs. “It is not. The hell I have gone through…” he let his voice trail off, then shook his head.
He padded to the kitchen area. “Do you want something to eat? It may be a little too early for sweets, but…” He opened his fridge for a cursory check of its contents. “...Sweets are all I have. Cakes, cookies…”
Kiki walked over to the kitchen and joined him. “I actually checked your fridge, haha,” she smiled sheepishly. “I was going to ask why you have so many mont blancs stashed in there.”
Vyn pulled out the French apple cake that he baked a few days ago, and placed it on the counter. There still was enough for two slices. “Ah, those…they were failed attempts. Things that I do not deem fit for giving away, but too much of a waste to throw out.” He sighed. “I used to throw away my failures, but I now realize how much of a waste that is. I consume them by myself now. Bit by bit.”
“For a doctor, you sure love your sugar.” Kiki remarked. “You sure you’re still okay?”
“Daily training and physical activity offsets my sugar intake,” Vyn said. “Would you like a bit of caramel sauce on your apple cake?”
Kiki’s eyes widened. “Oh, do I ever!” She then craned her neck to look around where the cutlery and tableware were. “Um, let me help set up the table, at least,” she said as soon as she spotted the dinnerware rack.
“Much appreciated, thank you.” Vyn reached for a suitable knife from the magnetic rack set in front of him, and sliced the cake into two equal slices.
===
“...So,” Kiki said, in between bites of cake. “Dr. Vyn Stuck in Friendzone Richter. I know you’re a shrink but do you want to talk about it?”
They sat themselves by the counter seating of his kitchen, each with a slice of apple cake and steaming cup of Earl Grey tea.
“I will, as long as you do not give me sad nicknames like what you just did.” A sip of tea. A forlorn smile. “My feelings have been kicked around enough as it is.”
“I’m sorry!” Kiki blew onto her steaming cup of tea before sipping on it. “It’s just that I don’t have a lot of guy friends, much less guy friends who open up about these sorts of things.”
“So you find my…distress fascinating, is that it?” Vyn took another sip of tea. “But I do owe you a great favor, for ensuring my safety during my most vulnerable hour. I shall regale you with words I usually keep to myself, then.”
“Um,” Kiki piped up after swallowing a big bite of cake. “Don’t get me wrong. Not like I’m actually enjoying your suffering or anything. Just that I’m curious, is all. Also!” Kiki smiled sincerely this time. “I want to hear about a real love story, you know? And yours with Rosa sounds pretty intense, from the looks of things.”
“Heh.” Vyn uncharacteristically poked around the remaining bits of cake on his plate. “Rosa…is someone special. I shall not bore you with the specifics; the specifics are such that it will take me days to enumerate them all.” He smiled to himself, mind running through various pleasant memories. “What I can say, however, is that…” he chewed on his lip, deep in thought. “I have mostly seen what human nature is capable of. The typical darker tendencies that no longer surprise me, not one bit.”
Kiki ate her cake in silence, listening to Vyn.
“But Rosa…” Again, the soft smile on his lips. “She with her radiance had proven to me the potential for humanity to be good. Those many times when she took me by surprise. Showing me that when all options appear to be bleak, there is always one sliver of light that can lead one out of the darkness…
“But I am talking about high concepts now, am I not? Very well then.” He topped up both of their tea cups with the ceramic teapot set nearby. “Let me talk about things that may tickle a romance reader’s fantasy: I like her bright eyes. Especially when she smiles. I like her presence, and the way she effortlessly brightens up a room. Her scent awakens a sort of hunger I never knew I had…”
“Oooh,” Kiki murmured quietly, trying her hardest to suppress her glee. “Go on.”
“...Her child-like curiosity, and how her willingness to learn new things indulges my own desire to share knowledge. I like her voice, and how her laugh dispels my day-to-day exhaustion. And…” Vyn finally speared the last bit of cake, taking his time chewing it as he inwardly debated with himself whether or not to say the last words he meant to say.
The need to say it eventually won out. He did owe Kiki a lot, and he knew these types of things were right up her alley. “...I love, desire, obsess over her, physically, intimately. When she confessed that she wanted to share herself with me, in that manner, I was more than ecstatic.”
Kiki’s face turned hot, and she grabbed her cheeks with both hands. “Oh my god, this is so steamyyyyyy…!”
“Heh,” Vyn looked up at Kiki with a roguish smile, which turned wistful at the drop of the hat. “But then, she told me that…intimacy between us is merely an arrangement.”
“Er, what?” Kiki also dropped her smile. “Did she just tell you, uh, forgive my French, you guys are fuckbuddies?”
“If by ‘fuckbuddies’ you mean friends who call each other when they feel like being frisky, then yes,” Vyn murmured sullenly into his teacup. “An arrangement. To fuck.”
“Uhh. Rosa…” Kiki laughed nervously. “She’s not that type, you know? Are you sure there’s no miscommunication between the two of you?”
Vyn shook his head. There was not a lot of room for any misunderstanding, not with how he had danced around her many, many times; his whispers of promises that talk of forever, all of them happily accepted by Rosa yet whose meanings still escape her. “I have tried so hard, so hard…” His smile has twisted into one of unbridled self-scorn. He buried his face in his hands. “Rosaaaaaa,” he keened, voice muffled by his palms. “Rosa…”
“Er…Dr. Richter?” Kiki did not know what to do at that point.
Vyn then took a deep breath to quickly gather himself, and ran his fingers through his hair. “Ah, my apologies,” he muttered. “I did not mean for you to see that.”
“That’s okay, really, I get it,” Kiki said. “Anyway…yeah.” Kiki cut another piece of cake. “Silly question, but.” She chewed on it thoughtfully. “Did you even tell Rosa? Does she even know?”
“I keep on telling her, but she doesn’t seem to understand.” A bitter smile. “It is almost as if…she is rejecting me. Rejecting the idea that she stay by my side. That all she is interested in is this arrangement.”
Vyn could feel the despair slowly seep into his heart.
Yet Kiki’s voice cut through the dark haze of his melancholy. A certain smidgen of clarity. “I mean, okay, just let me know if I misunderstood anything but…” A pause. “Did you even tell her “I love you” outright? Something like that?”
Her brows furrowed, as if thinking that something wasn’t quite right, something clearly wasn’t adding up, something that was missed in all of the tragic comedy that was Dr. Vyn Richter’s very rare love life.
“Not verbatim. But everything I do for her…”
“Aha,” Kiki said, nodding. “That might be it, actually. Rosa is dumb as bricks at this kind of thing. Trust me, I know. There is one other guy in Themis Law who is also struggling, but thankfully she is dumb as bricks about this and so his efforts just whoosh over.” She ran her fork across the edge of her plate, trying to gather the remaining tasty apple sauce, licking it off the fork tines.
Vyn’s eyes hardened. “Are you talking about her senior partner?”
“Er. Um. Yeah.” Kiki suddenly averted her eyes, as if she just said something that she shouldn’t have.
“Interesting,” was all Vyn said. This was not something new; he had noticed that the way Artem hovered around her was more than being protective. However the fact that co-workers knew made it even worrisome; it implied that he wasn’t pulling any stops in pursuing her in the workplace. “She is not being badgered into getting into a relationship with him, I trust?”
“Well, if she was aware of what’s been going on probably yes, but she is totally oblivious to his advances it might as well not have happened,” Kiki deadpanned.
A companionable silence followed. The cogs in Vyn’s head turned, churned double time, trying to process what he had just heard. Is Rosa deliberately being obtuse to overtures in general?
Kiki, for her part, seemed to be also deep in thought.
“So um. I know you’re not asking for advice, or anything, but—”
"That is fine. My ears are open."
"Maybe you should tell her the things that you just told me a while back. What you like about her,” she said as she finally put down her fork onto the plate with a clink. “Like. Word for word. Spell it out for her like you would a grade-schooler, you know? Or…”
Kiki’s lips stretched into a smile so unnerving even Vyn almost broke out in cold sweat.
“Why not indulge her in a teensy bit of roleplay and act like the demon priest in the novel you borrowed? ‘Tempt’ her into darkness.” Kiki’s smile turned even more twisted. “Teehee.”
===
Kiki had to do some overtime work on the weekend, and Vyn offered to drop her off at Themis Law. He did not have anywhere to go at the moment, but he told her that after what she did for him he certainly did not mind driving out for the express purpose of bringing her to her workplace.
“Thanks for the lift, Dr. Richter!” Kiki waved at him as soon as she stepped out of his car. “And uh don’t drink so much next time!”
“I will make sure not to, if I can help it, that is.” Vyn gave her a wan smile from the driver’s seat. “Miss Bennett, please remember…not a word to Rosa. Please.”
Kiki gave him a mock salute. “Yessir!” and closed the car’s passenger door.
She was still grinning as his car finally pulled away, disappearing into the rest of the traffic.
Humming, she marched through the doors of Themis Law building in higher spirits than she normally would, especially for weekend overtime.
It had been an interesting night. Rosa’s psychiatrist suitor certainly seemed to be more and more likable the more she interacted with him; Dr. Vyn Richter no longer seemed to be the aloof, unapproachable man with a pretty face that she initially made him out to be.
He was shamelessly in love with Rosa. He fell apart for Rosa, to the point that it was her name he was crying out for while he was drugged.
Oh my god, what a total goofball.
Needless to say, she approved of him.
She didn't need to do the sis check on him; she already saw the irrefutable proof, which was why she was even able to get him out off the streets before the others got to him… Kiki would make sure she’d tease them to the point of embarrassment the next time she saw them together.
If they manage to finally get together, that is.
Welp, too bad Dr. Richter swore me to secrecy.
She was still humming by the time she stepped into her department’s floor. Time to get to work! There's another mission pegged for tonight!
“Hey Kiki,” a familiar voice greeted her as she went past.
“Hey Rosa!” Kiki peered into her friend’s cubicle. “Gathering materials for the review?”
“Yeah,” Rosa nodded. “I’m just here to get some study materials for the next mock exam.”
Kiki found her mannerisms odd. Normally Rosa would be either cheerful, or outright whiny about her workload. Certainly not subdued like how she was acting now. It was as if…
“Um. Kiki?” Rosa fidgeted, twisting her fingers as she chewed on her lip. “Dr. Richter dropped you off…?”
===
Her friend Kiki’s smile froze in place, and Rosa immediately knew that she was hiding something. She had known Kiki since university; there was no mistaking that telltale awkward smile that betrayed the fact that she’s hiding something, or at the very least was being evasive about something.
“Um, it’s not like there’s nothing wrong,” Rosa let out a laugh that felt a little bit too fake, even for herself. “I mean…”
Dr. Richter chancing upon her on the way to the research center and offering a ride, knowing that she’s my friend shouldn’t be that odd, Rosa surmised. Yet why is Kiki being evasive about it? “...it’s really none of my business if there’s um. If you have business with him.” She could feel her smile crack along the edges. “I’m just curious, is all!”
Kiki merely blinked at her. “Er. T-that. Well…”
Rosa also knew Kiki was a terrible liar.
It seemed very unlikely that both her close friends, Kiki and Dr. Richter, would have anything to do with each other, but far stranger things have happened already and Rosa wasn’t at all surprised that Dr. Richter, popular that he is, would be seen with another woman.
Another woman, Rosa thought to herself derisively. It’s not as if we’re exclusive.
What was surprising, however, was that it would be her friend at work.
Rosa shook her head. Again, it’s not my business—
Yet why am I feeling this way? Strange, isn’t it, Rosa? It was a feeling that was very similar, if not worse, to what she felt when Vyn—as keyboardist Vilhelm—was being pursued by fangirls. Her hand unconsciously slid to her chest, just right above her heart. Pinpricks of a feeling indescribable made itself felt deep inside her guts, settling right into the yawning pit of her stomach. Strange, isn’t it?
“Ah, well, if you don’t want to tell me it’s fine, tell me when you want to spill the juicy details,” Rosa gave Kiki another smile, equal parts bright and forced. She didn’t know how awkward it made people feel, seeing that particular smile.
Especially Kiki, who ducked and threw a quick “Excuse me,” before scrambling to her cubicle.
Rosa sighed. She only needed to clear her head. Yes, that’s it. Maybe she’s too tired, maybe…
She shook her head. I need to get a hold of myself! Having regained a little bit of sanity, she decided to use it to focus towards finishing what she sought out to do in Themis Law on a weekend: gather learning materials.
And so minutes went by quietly, with Rosa scouring Themis Law’s digital library for any relevant reading, saving copies into her flashdrive.
From a couple of rows away she could hear Kiki’s mechanical keyboard click-clacking away at a feverish pace. It filled the empty floor so much that it was obvious when Kiki suddenly stopped typing.
The floor was also empty, save for the two of them, so when Kiki suddenly wailed out loud Rosa could perfectly hear her when she cried out, a bit too loudly, “Ughhh my phone is missing!” followed by sounds of frantic upending of various containers, and rapid opening, closing of drawers.
Rosa sighed. Oh, Kiki… This wasn’t the first time she’s ‘lost’ her phone. Sometimes she got so scatterbrained whenever something caught her attention, even dropping whatever she was holding at the time, even her phone…
Deciding to help her, Rosa pulled out her smartphone and dialed Kiki’s number.
It rang out several times, and Rosa was about to finally give up when her call was finally picked up.
A very, very familiar low, elegant voice answered her call. “Hello, Rosa,” Vyn said from the other end of the line. “It looks like your friend accidentally left her phone. My apologies for not answering immediately. It took me quite a while to locate where it was, when it started going off.”
Rosa’s blood ran cold, yet the sinking feeling did not reflect on the small, polite smile plastered onto her face. “No worries. I’m just glad Kiki’s phone is safe with you.” A small laugh. “I’m sure she would be devastated if she lost her phone with all the idol videos saved in it…” Her voice trailed off.
Hearing nothing from the other end, Rosa decided to ask, “Dr. Richter…where did Kiki drop her phone?”
She was still answered by radio silence, but Rosa knew Vyn was still on the line, as she could still barely pick out his soft breathing.
Then Vyn finally answered, “In my home.”
“Oh.” Oh.
Rosa did not notice her voice trembling as she said, “O-oh, okay. Um. I’ll just tell Kiki to come back there and pick it up.”
“Rosa, wai—”
“Bye, Dr. Richter.”
She pressed on the Decline button on her screen and dropped the call.
Rosa sat in her cubicle quietly, phone still in her hand. She sat still, unmoving, and it was only when a teardrop splashed onto its screen that her quiet onslaught of tears came.
How strange, Rosa told herself as she quietly sobbed in her seat. She shouldn’t be feeling this way. While Dr. Richter did express a bit of fancy towards her—and they certainly did have a lot of fun—it wasn’t as if she were special enough to hold his attention for long. In fact, only a few nights after their sweet stolen time in the NXX Headquarters he already had a different girl in his home, no less.
I’m being stupid. Rosa reached for her box of tissues and quickly wiped away her tears. I really shouldn’t be bothered by this. She took time to recompose herself, peering at the mirror to make sure there were no traces of her losing herself into crying left.
Though I probably wouldn’t call him up anymore for…that. That much was certain.
It doesn’t feel right anymore…
She decided to walk over to Kiki’s cubicle. “Hey, um…Kiki?”
“Eh? Rosa?” Kiki looked up at her, on all fours in the carpeted flooring within her cubicle, surrounded by emptied out boxes, drawers pulled out. She was still looking for her phone, and in the unlikeliest of places where it could have ended up, to boot.
She noticed the plastic potted plant in the corner upended as well. “Kiki…were you looking for your phone in the plant pot…?” Rosa could not help but give in to an amused—desperate—laugh.
Laughter during these dire moments always felt nice.
“Hey, it could have dropped into that stupid pot, you know!” Kiki huffed. “Stop laughing!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Rosa laughed a bit too loudly, desperate to deaden the hollow pit in her very being with shallow laughter. “Um. Kiki? I heard you scrambling for your phone, so…I dialed your number.”
“Omigosh! Thank you! Did someone pick it up?” Kiki exclaimed a bit too happily, then quickly stood up and dusted off her pants.
Rosa gave her close friend a small smile. “Yeah. It was Dr. Richter.” She did not notice her lower lip tremble, in the midst of the cracked smile. “You left it in his place, he said. So um. You better drop by there and get it from him, I guess.”
“Oh.”
This time, Rosa sighed and did not bother hiding her thoughts. “Look, whatever’s between you and Dr. Richter, that’s none of my business, alright?” She swallowed the lump in her throat. Great. I’m going to cry again. “Um, I think I need to pee, so—”
Rosa then made her way out of Kiki’s cubicle, but never got to take more than two steps.
“Oh no you don’t!” Kiki muttered as she grabbed Rosa's arm, stopping her in her tracks. “No, you’re not going anywhere away from me. Nope, nuh-uh.”
“I said I need to pee!” Tears already started to flow down her cheeks and onto the collar of her shirt. “Let go of me!”
“Who the hell pees and cries at the same time?!” Kiki—with a strength that even took her friend by surprise—wrested Rosa back into the cubicle, pulling her in by the arm. “Listen to me!”
Rosa sniffled and sobbed as she stood in the middle of the cubicle.
Looking rightly pissed off, Kiki put her hands on her hips as she addressed her ugly sobbing friend. “If you’re capable of feeling this way, why are you treating Dr. Richter the way you’ve been doing?” She tsk-ed. “If he didn’t swear me to secrecy you would have been hearing a truckload of things from me, but…ugh!” She was almost at the point of tearing her short hair out in frustration. “I swear—!”
“Wait, what?” Rosa looked at her pissed off friend with bleary, tear-stricken eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t talk, because Dr. Richter made me promise not to. So,” Kiki pulled Rosa along with her. “Grab your things, take me to your shrink’s place because I can’t go there by myself. Everything including money is through my phone.”
“...okay.”
===
Half an hour later, Vyn and Rosa found themselves sitting across from each other in Vyn’s living room.
“Um.” Rosa was back to fidgeting, like how she did back when she first approached Vyn with her dilemma. She wrung her hands nonstop; there was never a moment when her fingers were still.
Vyn merely watched her silently, hands folded on his lap.
And from the main entrance of Vyn’s home, Kiki hollered, “Alright, I want you guys to talk things out, and I want it done properly, ayt?” She grabbed at the door, starting to pull it closed behind her. “Make sure you guys do it right this time!”
The door shut with a loud bang.
Vyn looked at the main door. “That was unnecessary.”
“Oh. Well. If this is all unnecessary, then I should see myself out,” Rosa began. “I—”
Vyn let out a ragged sigh. “No, my darling. I meant slamming the door was unnecessary.” He lifted his phone to show her. “I can easily control doors, windows, and other effects in my home with my phone.” A pause. “You know this.”
“Right. Sorry,” Rosa mumbled. “I don’t know what to say, really.”
“Miss Bennett believes that there is a certain level of miscommunication between us, Rosa,” Vyn said, in clipped tones. “And this irks me, because someone of my profession should have picked up on it easily.” One of his hands curled into a fist.
“Mm.” Rosa wrapped her arms around herself.
Unconsciously erecting walls, Vyn noted. She considers me someone she has to escape from. The thought ran a serrated knife deep into his heart. Maybe if I did not upset the order of things. If I was not so greedy, if I did not dare dream of getting more than what she was already giving—and she gave me so much already, to fill my dreams with. I—
The hand curled into a fist trembled as he drove fingernails deeper into his palm. A damp, uncomfortable, searing warmth spread in his hand.
“Rosa,” Vyn began. “Tell me, what am I to you?”
Why am I asking these things now?
Rosa’s eyes focused on her constantly moving fingers, seemingly intent on retreating rather than engaging the man who was desperate to get an answer from her.
“Rosa, please,” Vyn now pleaded. “I am asking you this not as a psychiatrist, but as a—”
Friend?
No.
“...as someone keen on having a relationship with you.”
Rosa finally looked up at him. “...what do you mean?” Her gaze was understandably wary.
“A romantic relationship, Rosa.” Vyn said, recalling Kiki’s words that his desired inamorata was, in verbatim, dumb as bricks about the intricacies of romance. “Becoming lovers.” He took a deep breath. “I want to be your lover,” he continued, hoping that his words counted as him spelling things out for her.
He had been saving these words for a proper proposal—uttered in a more elegant phrasing, of course—but as Kiki had mentioned, he probably needed to spell things out for her, to get rid of any gaps where misunderstandings may slip in through.
Yet Rosa still did not look convinced. “I…see.” Her hands now fumbled with the hem of her skirt. “I…I don’t know.” She took a long pause, as if gathering her thoughts. “I’m confused. I’m sorry.”
Again, that plummeting sensation in the pit of his stomach.
Rosa was incredibly resistant to this specific type of message.
It was then that Vyn understood: It wasn’t that Rosa was dumb as bricks when it came to romance; it was because Rosa seemed to not accept the fact that she deserved to be loved and cherished, in a romantic sense, for some reason or another.
This realization spurred in him a burgeoning sense of panic, of desperation, the urgent need to be understood, and so Vyn sprung from his seat to kneel by Rosa’s feet. “Rosa, my beloved, please,” he pleaded. “Listen to me when I say I want you. I need you. I need you so much, it hurts. Deeply.”
Yet Rosa could only give him a smile so broken the sight of it cut deep in his aching, vulnerable heart. “You’ve always been such a romantic, Dr. Richter. Gifted with words.” A sharp intake of breath.
“Did you whisper sweet words to Kiki too, last night?”
Vyn froze, and he visibly recoiled.
A long bout of silence stretched out, as both of them quietly ruminated on what just happened.
“Ah.” Slowly, carefully, Vyn stood up and stepped away from Rosa, going back to his seat across from her. “Of course not.”
He could barely hide the bitterness that now crept into his voice. “When Miss Bennett found me out in the streets, about to lose my unconsciousness, all I ever voiced out to her was my gratitude.” Fingernails once again dug into his already wounded palm. “When Miss Bennett brought me home to safety as I was unconscious, drugged…when I came to, I only told her my gratitude.”
Vyn buried his face in his hands, and sighed loudly.
Rosa watched Vyn about to unravel right in front of her. A brief spell of panic crossed her face as she beheld Vyn edge into a breakdown. “Dr. Richter—”
But then Vyn removed his hands, revealing dull gold eyes now bereft of warmth, nor frenzied despair.
“This is enough. I apologize, Rosa.” He stood up, and briskly made his way to the kitchen area. “I have been keeping you here, asking you unfair questions that put you on the spot. Again, I apologize.”
He opened his fridge, rummaging through the contents, and pulled out a mont blanc, the flawless one among the bunch: its chestnut puree in a perfect conical swirl, topped with freshly whipped cream sitting exquisitely on its peak.
Vyn’s hands worked in deathly silence: fingers deftly folded the elegant transparent window box, placed the pretty mont blanc inside, and embellished the entire package with a teal-and-silver ribbon tied into a classy bow.
This he held out to Rosa as he walked back towards her. Yet his was an expression so somber, he might as well have handed her an urn instead of an elegantly packaged, beautiful dessert that he had spent many nights laboring over.
“This is my gift to you, as an apology,” Vyn’s voice was flat, and devoid of any warmth. “I shall not pester you with my foolishness ever again.”
This time, Rosa tried to reach out to him, to touch his hand as she took the mont blanc, but before her fingers could touch his he withdrew and sat himself once again across her.
He reached for his phone. “I hope you do not mind, Miss Rosa, but I need some time for myself. I shall call a taxi for you. Do you want me to have it drop you off your apartment? Or—”
“Vyn!” Rosa cut in. “I’m—”
“What?” Vyn’s voice was glacial, cutting. It was nothing that Rosa had ever heard before from him. “Is there anything else you need?” The edge mellowed out, but it was still undeniably there, capable of cutting anything or anyone who dared go near.
“I…” Rosa faltered, but eventually managed to say, “I…just wanted to know.” She bit her lip. “What Kiki did here last night.”
“What of it, Miss Rosa?” Vyn asked. To Rosa it felt that Vyn grew even more distant the more words he spoke. “We are merely in an arrangement, are we not? Is that not what you call what we briefly had? And you so quickly assume I would be doing the same with other women, should I feel the inclination to. With your reasoning in mind, what I do outside our arrangement should not concern you at all.”
Rosa said nothing.
“Tell me, Miss Rosa,” Vyn’s now emotionless eyes bore holes right through her. “Since you call me your close friend, even as our relationship turned physical: Do you also fuck your childhood friend when you feel like it?”
A loud slap resounded in the otherwise quiet living room.
Vyn rubbed his stinging cheek.
“I…I get it, Dr. Richter,” Rosa whispered. “I’ll…show myself out now. Don’t bother with the taxi—I can call one for myself.”
“Very well.”
The mont blanc remained on the seat that Rosa long vacated, and it never served its purpose.
===
“All that hard work…gone to nothing…” Kiki wailed into her cup of coffee.
Rosa had been cagey for the entire Monday morning after that weekend when she struggled to bring her friend and Dr. Richter together—as a result of her meddling, no less.
Thankfully, the two were close enough that the awkwardness that resulted from the events of last weekend had mostly dissipated, and they quickly went back to old habits: this time, they were back to whiling away their work and life sorrows over coffee in the office pantry.
“That’s fine, Kiki,” Rosa sighed. “Look, I’m sorry for…for…” she pursed her lips. “Assuming the worst about you and Dr. Richter.”
“Yeaaaah, but you guys aren’t together. If anything, I made things worse.” Kiki moaned. “Damn it.”
Rosa fell into thoughtful silence.
Kiki decided to gun for it, to say what was immediately in her mind the moment Rosa told her about last weekend’s fiasco: “…Dr. Richter has a point, you know.”
Bleary olive eyes looked at her. “What about?”
Ugh. Here goes.
“When he asked you, if you would fuck your childhood pal because you guys are ‘close’. I mean,” Kiki propped her chin in the palm of her right hand. “All these time you’ve been calling Dr. Richter your ‘close friend’. Of course he’d ask if you’d fuck your other close friends too, that’s how many mixed signals you’ve been giving the poor guy.”
Rosa looked away. “Look, Kiki…” she closed her eyes, as if willing herself not to lose it. “I’ve been kicking myself over how I acted the last time I saw Dr. Richter, okay? I don’t feel like talking about it.” She bit her lip. “It hurts.”
Kiki looked at her thoughtfully, then said, “You know, I feel like going to the bathroom. Come with?”
“Um. Sure.”
===
“Since things have ended between you and that shrink,” Kiki said, as she removed her glasses, placing them by the sink of the women’s bathroom, “I guess I can talk about the stuff he wanted me to keep from you.”
The bathroom was empty save for them, and it now served as an ideal space to talk about gossip. They stood by the sink set against the large mirror as Kiki touched up her makeup.
“But before that, lemme tell you about the stuff I heard about him. About what happened before I found him that night.” She untied and slipped the hairband from her head, shaking her hair loose to reveal a nicely curled bob that only needed a minor touch-up of a rounded brush.
Rosa stood nearby, quiet, watching Kiki with rapt attention as her friend touched up.
And gradually changed looks.
“Word has it that the famous ice prince of Stellis City was being picked up by no less than three beautiful girls. At the same time,” Kiki continued, as her fingers rummaged through her purse for her lipstick. “Dunno why but he was in this seedy bar, pouring his heart out to the bar owner,” she chuckled a little as she twisted the lipstick tube. “Crying about this girl he’s been trying so hard to win, and even managed to have sex with, but—haha—still thinks he’s her close friend.”
Rosa let out a gasp.
Kiki merely gave her a cool side glance, then carefully swept the end of her lipstick along her bottom lip. It was a dark, almost forbidding, shade of red—totally uncharacteristic on someone like her. Or at least, what people in Themis Law knew of her.
“The bar Owner took pity on Dr. Richter, dude really looked down in the dumps,” Kiki smirked into her reflection in the mirror. She already looked very un-Kiki-like. “So the Owner had the idea of calling these girls he knew were really into the shrink, so they could play with him and cheer him up, y’know?”
She applied eyeshadow on her eyelids as she went on. “But Dr. Richter…he refused. Said he wasn’t interested. The girls already had the bar owner slip some drugs into his drink so they could take him without much fuss, but the shrink was so NOT interested, he still managed to crawl out of the bar despite the drugs.”
She dusted a bit of blusher on her cheeks. “Aaand, that’s how I found him. Drugged out of his wits.” She smacked her lips to even out the rouge over her now alluring lips. “Looked up his address in his wallet, took his car keys, drove his car to his house.” Kiki tried out a sexy smile in the mirror. “You know what’s funny? In his sleep, all he ever called out was your name.”
She could see Rosa’s eyes tearing up through their reflection in the mirror, yet paid her no mind. Her fingers brushed through her hair, artfully tousling it. “When he finally woke up, and fed me some cake for breakfast as thanks…” her smile turned wistful. “...I wish you could have heard the things he told me, but…” She shook her head. “It shouldn’t come from me. If you want to know, it’s only right that he tells you himself. If he still would, that is.”
Kiki threw a meaningful look at her friend, through their reflections in the mirror. “You know…I wish someone looked at me that way, the way Dr. Richter looks at you. If only you knew the things he told me about you. It was…” She let out a sigh. “...really sweet. And sexy.”
Rosa was already weeping silently by the time she was done.
Kiki now faced Rosa directly, instead of looking at her through the mirror. “It’s not too late, you know,” she said quietly. “If you really want that shrink, you should grab the chance while you still can…”
Then, with a flip of her hair and a temptress’ half-smile—Kiki looked like a totally different woman now, someone who could easily pick up a man she fancied, instead of the bumbling, nerdy junior Rosa and the rest of her colleagues in Themis Law saw on a daily basis—she continued, “...before those girls who were interested in him try again. And succeed.”
Kiki merely looked on as Rosa spun on her heel and sprinted out of the bathroom, silently wishing her friend the best.
Whew. Everything almost went to the shitter…
Smiling, she looked at the bathroom mirror once again to check if everything was set; a new mark had just been assigned to her, and he was conveniently located near Themis Law’s office building. A thrill shot up her spine. Apparently today’s mark was a handsome businessman in his late thirties.
Kiki had seen his photos: he was her type.
===
It was almost sundown when Rosa stepped off the taxi, right in front of the entrance to Vyn’s Victorian estate.
If she still remembered his schedule correctly, he would be spending some time in the garden around this hour. She made a beeline off to the side towards his prized, sprawling English garden.
Rosa jogged through the garden gates, craning her neck to allow her a better view as she looked for him, looking for the man she so wanted to seize back into her life. Carefully she navigated her way through the bushes, the budding rose shrubs and other flora that the doctor tended to with his own hands…
Then she finally spotted him: Vyn hunching over a hydrangea bush, shears in hand. The simple white shirt and jeans he wore for gardening work were smudged with dirt.
Behind him stood a wheelbarrow almost full with plant trimmings, evidence of just how much time and effort he spent in his garden on that day alone.
Did he even go to his research center today? Or university, for that matter?
Taking a deep breath she started to approach him, careful not to take him by surprise.
But Vyn already took notice of her presence when she was still a few meters away. “Good evening, Miss Rosa.” He put down his shears and stood up to face her. “How can I help you?”
His expression and stance seemed closed off: his gaze was still bereft of his usual friendly warmth, hands clasped in front of him.
Faced with a cold Vyn Richter—a total 180 to the gentle, warm, soft-spoken man who welcomed her with open arms, anytime—Rosa almost lost all nerve, her instincts screaming at her to turn tail and leave. Not because of self-preservation, but rather due to her innate fear of rejection.
But…
She remembered the things Kiki divulged to her. There were so many things she had yet to know. So many things she could have known, if only her head wasn’t so far up her ass being afraid that she might have misinterpreted his intentions.
Last weekend proved how her fears wound up destroying the fragile, precious thing that could have been.
She had to work up her courage. “Dr. Richter, I…” She swallowed the nervous lump in her throat. “I’m sorry.”
Vyn remained silent, and did not move an inch.
“I’m really sorry,” Rosa repeated. “To be honest…I don’t even know why I’m here. I just…I just want to say I’m sorry. That’s all. Um.”
Vyn still did not say anything, but his gaze upon her softened, somehow.
Yet Rosa did not notice something so minute, and all she could see was Vyn merely staring at her in silence, as if waiting for her to finish her piece and leave. This time, she completely lost all nerve. “I—I’m sorry for bothering you. I’ll be going now.”
Stifling a sob, Rosa turned around to leave.
Yet before she could move away, strong arms held her in place.
“Do not go,” Vyn whispered. He hugged her from behind, his warmth seeping through her clothes. “Do not leave me.” His arms pulled her closer to him; hands tightly gripping her sides. He was so close to her that she could feel his body tremble against hers.
Moisture slowly trickled and spread onto the top of her head.
“...Dr. Richter…?”
Rosa looked up at him.
He was crying silently.
Rosa shifted herself in his tight hug so she faced him. His hold upon her loosened to allow her movement; with a long, drawn out sigh that bore her pent-up longing she reached out to Vyn for a long, deep, heartfelt kiss.
There was no stress to be relieved this time around; only relief that everything has fallen back into place, just where they should be.
Her arms coiled around his neck, clinging to Vyn as if for dear life as their lips locked in frantic kisses. Their own breaths, moans, sighs mingled with each other before dissipating into the aether. “Dr. Richter—Vyn,” she whispered softly into his ear. “Vyn,” she repeated as she felt his lips flutter a trail of kisses down her neck.
A soft evening breeze blew around them, sending the surrounding flowers and vines into a dance in the orange glow of the evening sunset. Yet their beauty went unnoticed, as Rosa and Vyn were still too preoccupied with their all-too sweet reunion.
Vyn briefly pulled away for air. “Rosa, I am also deeply sorry,” he husked. “Things went too fast, and I am to blame. I said hurtful words. I…” He almost choked in his words. “...I could only think about you. Even in my dreams, all I ever see is you. And how filled with regret I am.”
His tears landed onto her cheek.
Rosa shook her head. “I drove you mad, in the worst way possible. I realize it now.” She gave him a crooked smile of her own, also edged with tears. Tenderly her fingers wiped away his tears, and she finally said those words that have not yet been uttered between them:
“I love you.”
===
“Vyn…there, yes…” The acoustics in Vyn’s shower made Rosa’s moans and whispers of his name reverberate and echo quite beautifully.
Her wet body was pressed against the thick sturdy glass partition separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom; breasts flattened against the cold glass now quickly warming with her rising body heat.
“You could have waited, my Rose,” Vyn murmured, his nose buried deep against her cunt as he sucked on her clit, hot shower water cascading over their bodies. “You will have to forgive me if making love here is not as comfortable as you would like.” There was an amused lilt to his voice, still easily picked out over the din of running water.
Vyn did not notice Rosa following him inside, when he entered his bathroom for a quick wash a few moments earlier. He only meant to clean himself of dirt, sweat, and grime that had accumulated from the day’s heavy gardening work before he made love to her properly, yet Rosa—ever impatient, with her impatience made even worse by her impulsive nature—wanted to jump him already in the shower.
His tongue slid along the length of her slit at a languid, maddening pace, and Rosa could not help but grind her hips against his mouth. “God, I don’t care. I just want you now. More,” she whimpered above him. “Vyn, please.”
“As my Lady wishes,” Vyn replied, and in went three fingers inside her hungry cunt, relieving her wet flesh of the acute emptiness that only he, and his worship of her, could fill.
The pads of his fingers pressed against her inner walls as they slid in and out of her, pulling such sweet sounds from his Rosa: small whispered words of love, lust, and utterances of his name came with each and every deep thrust.
“Vyn,” his Rosa moaned aloud, and he could feel her flutter around his fingers. Her body slid lower, knees almost giving out in the face of such immense pleasure. “God, I’m so stupid,” she suddenly said.
“Hm?” Vyn’s fingers kept on fucking her, his thrusting not missing a beat. “Why? What about?” His voice was now breathy and low; he knew how much she loved his voice, especially when he modulated it in such a way that it would feel like he was caressing her nape with his words.
He also knew that the acoustics in the shower only amplified his voice’s effect on her. “What are you upset about? When…” He thrust his fingers inside even deeper, drawing out a loud, needful whimper from his love. “...I’m doing you like this?”
“I could have lost this,” she said, in between barely repressed cries. “This—aaah!”
Lewd, wet sounds from her pussy combined with Rosa’s singing; it did not take long before Vyn got swept away by the seductive, obscene symphony. “I need you now,” he whispered urgently, his body sliding against hers as he stood up, stiff cock nestling between her ass cheeks. “I need you,” he repeated as he rubbed the tip against her entrance; soft spoken words turned into a guttural groan as he plunged deep inside the object of his deepest, darkest obsession.
Rosa gasped loudly as his entire length drove inside her, her flesh yielding; gasps soon changed into begging as Vyn started to move, his hips bucking against her ass with force enough to slightly shake the glass partition’s metal frame every time he thrust inside.
“Vyn…the glass,” she moaned out loud, seemingly alarmed that the glass partition’s frame was shaking with their fucking.
“Tempered,” was the only thing Vyn said in response.
Yet one of his arms wrapped around her, just underneath her breasts, pulling her fast against his body as he shifted her weight away from the glass to himself; his other arm lifted one of her thighs up to give his cock easy access to her cunt. He continued pummeling inside her as they stood in the middle of the shower stall, hot water still pouring hard all over them, and all Rosa could do was to reach upwards and cling to Vyn’s neck as he rutted into her with abandon.
Loud sounds of wet flesh hitting wet flesh punctuated his every movement, until Vyn’s hips bucked against Rosa’s behind one last time. With a loud groan he emptied himself inside her, his twitching cock flooding her with his hot come.
Maddening. Euphoric. Blissful: these were the words that came into his mind as his vision blanked out.
“Love,” Vyn’s voice shuddered as he slumped behind Rosa, cock still hard and swollen inside her, “Let me make it up to you.”
He knew she had not come yet; he had ideas that he wanted to try out, which required a semblance of clarity that he could only achieve after satisfying his own urge to fuck Rosa and fill her with his seed.
He sat down a grumbling, incredibly impatient Rosa along the edge of the tub right next to the shower stall; once again he knelt down, this time between her spread thighs. “I will make this worth your wait,” Vyn whispered as he bent down to plant small kisses along her inner thigh, from her knee towards her pussy.
His thumb traced small, concentric circles around her clit; the soft, quivering sighs escaping her lips telling him of the climax just within reach…
“Hahh—what are you…?” The rest of her words get caught in her throat once Vyn’s lips reach the nethermost part between her legs, his eager lips kissing her down there, and her suppressed words are quickly replaced with a yelp of surprise when his tongue dug into her hole.
Vyn started sucking out the very same come—a sublime mix of salty bitterness—he injected her with, thumb not letting up the rubbing on her clit that was about to go off.
“Vyn, what are you doi—”
When Rosa looked down to see what Vyn was up to, her eyes were met with his misty gold looking up at her from behind his long, silver eyelashes, tipped with water droplets.
…as his tongue lapped up the remaining traces of his own sperm off her sex.
“Oh god.” The utterly shameless spectacle finally pushed her over the edge. The spasming of her inner walls helped him clean her inner flesh of his come, and as her tremors subsided Vyn slowly slid up against her, feeding her mouth with his white fluid; still warm off his tongue and mixed with his own saliva.
The sheer filthiness of the act turned Rosa on so much that she pushed Vyn off her, and had him lie down on the wet tiles of the bathroom floor.
She licked the traces of his sperm and spit off her lips. “God, why are you so sexy?” she muttered as she straddled his hips, not caring if Vyn was still in his refractory period. “Damn it.”
Vyn laughed helplessly underneath her. “You are defeating the purpose of why I wanted to take a shower, pet,” he said as his hands slid up to her breasts. There was nothing stopping him from having a little bit of fun while he rested. “We will not be able to clean ourselves the more we keep this up…”
“Screw that, you didn’t need a shower anyway,” Rosa said as she bent down to take his tongue in her lips, still tasting of him.
===
Rosa, her skin freshly towel-dried and hair still damp from the shower, stepped out of the bathroom wearing only a fluffy white towel wrapped around her.
“You know what we will be doing in a few moments, my love,” Vyn whispered from behind her, fingers parting her hair to reveal the back of her neck. Warm lips descended onto her cool skin; a sweet kiss planted on her nape. His hot breath—and the hardness that poked against her lower back—betrayed his excitement. “Why bother with modesty?”
Off the towel went.
Vyn gently nudged her towards the bed, but something caught Rosa’s eye: a full-length mirror in a nondescript yet sturdy varnished heavy wooden frame stood against a nearby wall, reflecting their naked bodies.
Transfixed for the moment—Rosa rarely ever paraded naked in her own bedroom much less in front of her mirror—she walked towards it, taken in by a strange impulse to look at her own reflection. A naked woman of average build and height, certainly no one special, just average, looked back at her from the mirror.
“Is something the matter?” came Vyn’s question.
Rosa shook her head. “Mm. Nothing, really. I just don’t see myself in the nude all that often, you know?” She turned to her side. Her silhouette could need some work. “Ugh. I guess I need to renew that gym membership…”
“There are benefits to being physically active on a regular basis.” Vyn hugged her from behind, his hands loosely clasped over her belly. “But in your case, it would be only for health reasons.”
He appreciated the image reflected back at them: Rosa enveloped in his arms, and him standing behind her, his gold eyes tinged with a little hunger. “You look perfect.”
Keeping their position in front of the mirror Vyn bent over slightly to plant a lingering kiss on the side of her neck.
Rosa watched Vyn slowly tongue the sensitive part of her neck through their reflections in the mirror; it felt like she was watching a softcore porn scene.
The sight, coupled with the actual sensations that came with it, made her wet.
Suddenly Kiki’s words came unbidden: ‘If only you knew the things he told me about you.’
Vyn’s hands were kneading her breasts—no doubt deliberately done to produce a lewd, incredibly arousing image in the mirror—when Rosa finally decided to ask about it.
“Kiki…said you told her things. Um.” All of a sudden she felt an uncharacteristic shyness that made it difficult for her to voice it out. “Stuff about me.”
Vyn smiled as his lips grazed her shoulder. “Oh, is it about the things I like about you?”
Rosa nodded silently.
“Well then.” Vyn straightened up, once again towering Rosa as he stood behind her. “Keep your eyes on the mirror, pet.”
Holding her breath, Rosa did as she was told; Vyn laughed a little as he felt her tense up. “Relax, my Rosa,” he breathed as his hands gently held her by the shoulders, his palms slowly sliding down her arms until his fingers could intertwine with hers. Then, he began:
“I like your bright eyes.” Vyn pressed a soft kiss onto one of her temples. “Especially when you smile. Smile for me, Rosa,” he said, his voice deliciously low and absolutely erotic.
His gold eyes meet hers in the mirror, and, smiling sensually he licked her cheek with the tip of his tongue.
Rosa let out a ragged gasp as she beheld his teasing.
With the same low voice that sent shivers down her spine Vyn continued: “I like your presence, and the way you effortlessly brighten up my day.” This time he behaved, just a bit, keeping his hands to himself as he placed a friendly kiss on the top of her head.
“I like your scent. It awakens a sort of hunger I never knew I possessed…” Vyn buried his nose in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply, and with a soft moan he bit into that tender junction where her shoulder joined her neck.
Rosa watched him through the mirror, spellbound, as Vyn’s hands slid once again to her breasts, lightly running his palms against her nipples while he licked the bitemarks he left on her shoulder.
She now felt positively drenched between her legs. “Vyn…” she moaned as she leaned her head back against his shoulder. “Vyn…”
“I am not done yet,” he purred. He continued, “I like your child-like curiosity, and how your willingness to learn new things indulges me and my desire to share knowledge with you…” This time, he did not do anything except to ask, “Do you want to try out new things with me, Rosa?”
His tongue slithered into his ear, hot and wet and absolutely indecent. “Let me hear your voice. I also love hearing it,” he whispered directly into her ear, voice dripping with dark honey.
Another lick in the shell of her ear.
“Hahh—Vyn,” Rosa moaned, eyes still obediently witnessing her lover’s tender assault. “I don’t know what to…hhngh…say?” Soft moans slipped through her lips as Vyn’s fingers teased her nipples to hardened peaks.
“Mmm. That is fine. Your voice turns me on,” Vyn murmured as he now gently pushed Rosa closer to the mirror. “Bend and grab onto the sides of the mirror, my love.” With gentle nudges he had her bent over, ass slightly raised to better receive him. Her hands clung to the thick, heavy wooden frame encasing the mirror. “Eyes on the mirror,” he reminded her.
Rosa could feel Vyn rubbing the tip of his cock against her wet slit.
“And lastly,” he breathed, “I love you, desire you, obsess over you…”
In one thrust he bottomed out inside her.
“Aaaahh, Vyn!” Rosa cried out, not in pain—she was already wet enough for her hot inner flesh to easily yield to his strong thrust—but in how deliciously he filled her, how there’s nothing that could be any more perfect in that moment.
And the face she saw in the mirror, well.
It told her just how much she wanted him. And of how superbly depraved she was, for him.
“You fill me with ecstasy, in more ways than one,” Vyn whispered as he started pounding into her flesh. He then fell silent, except for his heavy breathing punctuated with moans, and soft grunts as he thrusted inside her, over and over, a succinct demonstration of how much he desired the woman he was making heavy love with at the moment.
“I love you, Rosa,” His voice trembled as he professed his love in the most debased yet to the point manner possible. “I love you.”
Every deep thrust pressed Rosa harder against the mirror; it took all of her strength to brace herself from toppling over onto the floor. Yet she did not mind, and a smile played on her lips as she shouted Vyn’s name repeatedly out loud, to do her more, harder, yes…
Finally he shouts her name, and once again his hot seed spills inside her; this time they both collapse onto the floor of his room. Vyn effortlessly rolled underneath Rosa to protect her from the brunt of the fall.
“I wish…I could have told you how I love you in a more…romantic setting,” Vyn murmured as he struggled to catch his breath, holding the woman he so loved and obsessed over close to him.
It was Rosa’s turn to laugh this time. “What are you talking about?” She curled up on top of him, not minding the fact that they were still not on his bed. “I love you, Vyn,” she murmured softly.
Vyn grinned as he tipped her chin with a fingertip, making her face him. “As friends?”
Rosa gave him a twisted grin, then leaned over for a deep kiss.
Both of them knew the answer to that, of course. No words needed to be said, this time around.
===
Kiki could only grin when she happened upon Rosa’s cubicle, still noticeably empty the next work day at four in the afternoon.
Oooh. I wonder who got some nice dicking from a psychiatrist last night. Teehee.
Humming, she marched back to her own cubicle in high spirits, happy to see that all was well in the world, one happily fucked woman at a time.
A nondescript box tied with a teal and silver bow awaited her by her cubicle, sitting prettily beside her mechanical keyboard. “Oh? What’s this?”
She let out a loud gasp as she finally opened the box. Inside was a small personal-sized black forest cake, along with a pack containing printed photos of the idol group she was gushing over to Rosa about.
All photos were signed.
A note that came with it simply said, “Thank you for everything. I am glad that Rosa and I can count on you as our dearest friend - VR”
Yes. Yes I approve of you, Kiki cried inwardly as she held the photos close to her little depraved heart.
147 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
toadettestinky
Peeyew Stinky Farting
y2kwitchstuff
Pink Paganism
wreckagesworld
الزهرة البرية
korzagru
@korzagru
qooqer
QOOQER