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woman-of-balnain · 1 year

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Undone in Sorrow Part 2/10 (Alpha Rick x Omega Reader)

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Pairing: Rick Grimes/Fem!Reader

Summary: Negan forces you all to get in line and accept that his way is the only way.

A/N: The first part of this switches back and forth between Reader’s initial meeting with Negan, and continuing on from the end of the last chapter, with his first words to the rest of the group. Hopefully it will make sense. I’ve indicated what time we’re focusing on by putting ‘Then’ and ‘Now’ before each section.

Most of this is original dialogue and added scenes to the line-up that involve the Reader. Most of it is also just angst. This is the last part where we closely follow the events of the show, as after this it’ll be more just moments between Rick and the Reader in between everything else that’s going on.

I skip over most of the actual line-up, because I don’t just want to write out what we already know. That doesn’t mean we don’t see how the Reader is feeling about it all though.

Lastly, I make no claims to be good at writing Negan, but I felt that it was necessary to try here. Sorry if he doesn’t seem like he should do, but I tried my best.

Warnings: Descriptions of blood and gore, broken Rick, angst, Negan scents you against your will, pregnancy, you and Rick are true mates but that is extremely rare and considered a myth.

Word Count: 4,731

Dividers by: @cafekitsune + @newlips

The sad, the lonely, the insatiable, To these Old Night shall all her mystery tell; God's bell has claimed them by the little cry Of their sad hearts, that may not live nor die.

Then

The first thing you registered was the pain in the back of your head as you were forced back into consciousness. Your eyelids were heavy and sore as you tried to open them and look at your surroundings. But your vision was blurry, and your head was pounding so you let out a groan, trying to remember what had led up to that moment.

You remembered parting from Rick and driving off with Eugene. You could recall the way you had tried to convince yourself that everything would work out and that Maggie would be safe. That everyone would be safe. But then what?

You tried to work out what had happened next.

It was a blur, but you could remember certain things. Being blocked off again and then surrounded… being forced out of the RV by the Saviors and then… then everything went black. The throbbing pain in your head was a pretty good indication as to why. They’d obviously knocked you out and now you were at their mercy.

With another groan, you closed your eyes, since your vision was still unfocused. You just hoped that you might be able to drift off again. Anything to ignore the way your body ached and the panic spreading through you.

But then there was a slap to your cheek, forcing your eyes open once more. It wasn’t a brutal or particularly rough hit, but it wasn’t gentle either. You waited for the blurriness in your vision to fade and then you realized that you were still in the RV, hands tied behind your back with a strange alpha in front of you but no sign of your beta friend.

“Eugene…” you groaned out, trying to see if he was, in fact, there somehow.

“Oh, don’t worry about him,” the man in front of you let out a sardonic chuckle. “It’s just you and me here, darlin’.”

“Who…?”

You struggled to get the word out, your throat raw and sore. The alpha leaned down, getting right in your face and you took him in. His dark hair, his beard that was almost completely grey, the black leather jacket he wore, and that scent… it made you screw up your nose and look away.

It betrayed his cocky confidence, the way he was used to being the top alpha and beating down anyone who questioned his authority.

“You know who I am,” he grinned in a twisted way, his features showing how self-assured he was.

He was right though; you could just tell somehow.

“Negan,” you grit out, glaring up at him.

“In the flesh.”

There was something off about him. It wasn’t just his overbearing scent or the reputation he had built for himself. It was something else, something unsettling. He wasn’t what you’d been expecting, in all honesty.

You had expected someone cold and ruthless, not someone with a sense of sadistic charisma. Yet, what unsettled you was the fact that he seemed to be both. Like the latter was just one side of him, masking the darker and merciless beast that lay within. Was it just to lull you into a false sense of security? Or was he just playing nice for now, until you did something to make him snap?

“Where’s Eugene?” You tried to ask again.

“He’s just fine,” Negan replied, though you weren’t at all convinced. “We’re here to talk about you. I have questions and you… have answers.”

“I’m not telling you anything.”

You tried to appear confident, but internally you knew that you were screwed.

“Well,” he huffed out another laugh. “You’re just an omega. I can make you talk.”

A laugh of your own escaped your lips before you could stop it. Negan raised an eyebrow, but you were just glad that he was so very, very wrong.

“You can try,” you told him. “But my alpha is the only one who’s ever been able to do that.”

His eyes narrowed down at you, but he didn’t seem angry. Not yet at least.

“Talk,” he demanded, already reverting to the commanding tone alphas used to force omegas into doing what they wanted. “I want to know every little thing about that home of yours. Half of it’s about to be mine, so you could say that I’m interested in how big the score’s gonna be.”

“No,” you refused.

His tone hadn’t worked, just like you’d tried to warn him. There was a brief look of surprise that crossed his features, but he quickly regained his composure.

“Well, hot damn!” He was back to the cockiness he’d been displaying before. “You weren’t kiddin’, huh?”

He seemed slightly intrigued, which you figured wasn’t surprising. Your bond with Rick was unique and rare, something that the two of you barely understood, let alone others.

“So, who do you belong to, then?” He continued, leaning down so that he was too close for comfort again. “What kind of idiot would let you out here after starting a god damn war with me?”

Anger boiled inside of you at the way he spoke about Rick, but you forced yourself to stay calm. Negan scrunched up his nose before moving even closer, sniffing at your neck.

“Whoever it is, you absolutely reek darlin’. I mean, more than the usual stink of a mated omega.”

You turned your head away from him because, really, that was all you could do.

“You’re pretty pungent yourself…” you got out, the scent of him unbearable now that he was so close.

If it wasn’t so strong, you likely would have kept silent. That would have been the smart thing to do. But it clouded your senses until you were desperate to breathe in some air that wasn’t absolutely polluted with his scent.

“Oh, is that right?” He laughed again. “Well, why don’t we see which is stronger?”

Now

Your eyes found Rick automatically, as Negan held you there with his hand tightly gripping onto your hair. You had never seen him so broken, so defeated and in shock. A whimper escaped your lips as you reacted to the sight of him.

It broke your heart as his scent finally reached your nose, wrapping around you even with the distance between your bodies. He was feeling helpless and distraught, and it only seemed to pick up in intensity once he saw you.

“So, this is Rick,” Negan observed from behind you, realizing instantly who was the group’s leader, simply based on your alpha’s reaction to seeing you. “Look at you now. Down on your knees like a good soldier.”

Rick’s gaze moved from you, darting over to Negan. You watched as his hands clenched into fists against his thighs, but you were glad that he didn’t retaliate. That wouldn’t be good for any of you.

“You know,” Negan continued, moving closer and dragging you with him. “This bitch of yours is quite something. We had a good, long chat. Once I took care of the stink all over her, that is.”

As the distance between you was closed, Rick’s nose twitched, and he seemed to pick up on the fact that your scent was now mingled with Negan’s and his gaze darkened.

“Let her go,” he said, voice cracking but his tone no less determined.

“Hey, I get it,” Negan continued, ignoring him. “You like to mark your territory. But she’s not yours anymore. Not really. She, just like all of you, is Negan. You all belong to me now.”

Rick’s expression grew steely, and you could tell that he was about to lash out, so you became resolved to stop him. The situation was already bad enough, you didn’t want anything to push Negan into retaliating further.

“Alpha,” you called out to him softly, knowing that it would have more of an effect in that moment than his name.

Rick’s gaze instantly found yours and you could see the conflict within him. But you just shook your head, silently telling him to stay calm. His jaw clenched and he looked away from you, clearly struggling to do what he had to, rather than what he desperately wanted.

“Aww,” Negan mocked the two of you. “Ain’t that sweet. Honestly, Rick, I’m surprised you let her come out here.”

Rick just ignored him, staring straight ahead again in order to resist letting his instincts take over.

“You know,” Negan continued. “With her being pregnant and all.”

Dread filled you as the words left his mouth and Rick’s head snapped back up in disbelief. The confusion and betrayal he felt was clear as he looked at you questioningly. You couldn’t handle the accusatory look in his gaze, so you turned your head away in shame.

“Come on now,” Negan continued to taunt your alpha. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”

You could feel Rick’s eyes still burning into you, but he didn’t answer the other alpha. So, Negan continued to antagonize him.

“Yeah, congratulations. You’re gonna be a daddy. That is, if you both make it through tonight.”

Then

You squirmed in disgust as Negan rubbed his nose and cheek against your mating gland. Your body felt like it was on high alert as the alpha’s scent began to seep its way into yours against your will. The bond you shared with Rick meant that your body knew that this was wrong and a betrayal in every sense of the word.

“You know what I think?” Negan muttered against your neck. “Your alpha must be Rick.”

The fact that he knew Rick’s name was a shock to you, but the more pressing problem was the need to get him off and away.

“Please stop,” you begged.

Negan took in your scent again before he did as you asked, pulling back with a look of deep satisfaction on his face. You knew you must have been dripping in the smell of him by then and it left your entire body feeling on edge.

“Tell me about Alexandria,” he demanded once again, taking advantage of the fact that his scent was now all around you and likely clouding your mind. “Weapons, food, medicine, defenses... You’re gonna tell me all of it.”

“No,” you repeated, refusing to give in.

“Omega, in case it escaped your notice, you are buried up to your neck in shit right now. I’m just about done playing nice. Tell me, or we’re gonna start doing this the hard way.”

You just stayed silent, unwilling to do anything to jeopardize either your family or your home. Negan’s patience had clearly worn thin though, because your head was suddenly whipping to the side as he punched you across the face.

He gave you a moment, waiting to see if you would give in, but all that escaped you was a cry of pain. So, he pulled you up by the hair, pushing you down to the ground.

“Stop,” you cried out pitifully. “Please… just stop.”

Negan didn’t pay you any mind, because he didn’t care if you begged and pleaded with him. He would only stop when you gave him what he wanted to hear. Now that you were on the floor, curled up onto your side you were forced to watch in horror as his foot swung back and it looked like he was about to kick you right in the stomach.

“I’m pregnant,” you blurted out, unable to stop the words from escaping your mouth as fear overcame you. “Please, don’t!”

He stopped just in time, and you knew that the admission might have been a lie, but the fact that you suspected it was enough for you to become protective. You were relieved that he had halted, not wanting to jeopardize your child if you really were pregnant.

“Well shit,” he muttered, sounding more than just a little annoyed.

Now

“Damn, Rick,” Negan laughed sardonically, relishing in the other alpha’s despair. “You look miserable. I mean, shit, you should be ready to pop the champagne, not lookin’ like someone just pissed in your Cheerios! But hey, this is hardly the time for celebrations, isn’t it? My bad!”

He was still holding onto you tightly and your body was so tired and sore that you wondered if you’d even still be standing if he let you go. You couldn’t bear to look at Rick, too ashamed that he’d found out like this to face him.

But then you heard the sound of gravel moving and a struggle, so you looked back up to see that Rick had gotten up and tried to lunge for Negan. Panic spread through you as a few Saviors were quick to grab him and hold him back.

“Let her go,” he practically growled. “She doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

“No, you see Rick, that’s where you’re wrong. The minute you crossed me, you brought her into this. Now, I’ll let this little outburst of yours go, just this once. I get it, truly, I do, but you need to get it through your head that everything you own, half of it belongs to me. So, calm the fuck down or I might just take your little omega home with me. Is that clear?”

Rick’s anger and fury were clear, but so was his internal struggle to restrain himself. Negan nodded, accepting that as Rick’s acquiescence to the situation and the authority he held over all of them.

“Simon,” he barked out, calling over his second in command, the one who had originally blocked the RV from getting to Hilltop. “You hold onto Rick’s bitch. Keep her right where he can see her.”

The other man, also an alpha, moved to take you from Negan, his hold just as tight. You felt the cool and sharp metal of a blade pressing against your neck to hold you still and sucked in a fearful breath. Then Negan was moving closer to Rick, continuing to goad him on.

“Take a good look. Because if you try anything, it’s her neck on the line. Literally. Hers… and your baby’s.”

Rick was shaking all over and covered in sweat, but he looked Negan right in the eye, never once backing down. He didn’t say anything though, showing that he understood just fine.

“Good,” Negan nodded, seeing that Rick was right where he wanted him. “Now, let’s get down to business.”

You barely paid attention to what Negan said – something about him being pissed off about all of the men your alpha had killed. All you could focus on was Rick and the complete and utter hopelessness of the situation.

It was only when Negan started pointing with his bat towards every single person who was lined up, people who you loved like family, some of them who were family… that was when you snapped out of it and came back to reality. And when the screams echoed out around you, there also came the realization that yours was one of the loudest.

The gravel on the ground dug into your knees as you knelt with the others. You tried to ignore the splattered remains of the man you’d seen as your brother, in every sense of the word. Glenn hadn’t just been your brother-in-law, or the man your sister married and loved.

He’d always been a friend and someone who had your back, not just in dangerous situations but when you needed someone to talk to or to just enjoy the few rare moments of quiet with. He had been family, since pretty much right at the beginning.

You didn’t want to remember him like this. You didn’t want to be forced to hear Maggie’s sobs while you weren’t able to do anything to comfort her. You couldn’t comprehend how things had changed so quickly in just the past 24 hours. You couldn’t come to terms with the fact that someone as tough and steadfast as Abraham was reduced to the gory pile of flesh and blood somewhere on the ground before you.

And then there was Rick, who had been dragged off by Negan. While they were gone, Simon had forced you to join the others on your knees. Then the RV returned, and you felt helpless when Negan dragged Rick back out, the man you loved scrambling to gain his footing as he was pulled back towards you all.

Now, you still had no choice but to watch, as Negan tried to force your alpha into submission. He definitely knew that such a thing was unnatural for alphas, but he didn’t care. In his eyes, this was the new world – Negan’s world – and he would get his way, no matter what it took.

Rick was in shock and denial as Negan tried to make him cut Carl’s arm off. He kept slightly shaking his head, like he still couldn’t believe what was happening. Like he expected to wake up from the nightmare you were all being forced to endure.

But this wasn’t a dream, it was happening and there was nothing any of you could do to escape it.

Negan’s patience was quickly wearing thin and when Rick still wouldn’t move to do as he demanded, the older alpha decided to up the stakes. He brought his gaze to you and your heart seemed to skip a beat in fear, already anticipating what he planned to do.

“Simon, bring the omega to me.”

His second in command didn’t need to ask which omega Negan was referring to. You were the only one there, surrounded by betas and alphas. So, Simon was then hauling you up again, before roughly letting go of you, causing you to fall back down to your knees right in front of your alpha.

Rick seemed to move on instinct more than anything, reaching out to pull you closer. His hands wrapped around your wrists, clinging on tightly as though you would help anchor him within the swirling sea of emotions that he was currently experiencing. It was like he just needed to be touching you somewhere, so that he could properly convince himself that you were okay. At least for now.

“Nope,” Negan interrupted, pulling you back out of Rick’s reach. “None of that. You’ve got to earn that privilege. Now make a choice. You can fall in line like a good soldier, cut off your son’s arm, nice and clean. Or, I can give your omega the good ol’ Lucille special, and I mean, you’re very familiar with how that works by now, aren’t you?”

He waved his bloody bat, covered in bits of flesh to emphasize his point. That blood, that flesh… it was all remnants of the two friends you had lost that day. Your family. It was clear that Negan was losing his patience with Rick’s reluctance and defiance. But somehow, he was still veiling it behind taunting remarks and a sense of sadistic and twisted humor.

Rick leaned forward, his head hanging low, and the sweat was dripping off him now, droplets falling from his forehead where his hair was practically sticking to his skin. He choked out a sob and you wanted nothing more but to comfort him, to hold him close and let him know that he wasn’t alone. But you couldn’t and it killed you emotionally to see him break down when you could do nothing for him.

Tears welled in your eyes, and it was not out of fear for yourself, but out of love and despair for Rick. Carl was his son; how could he ever make that choice? The tears spilled over, and you tried to stifle the sound but it was no use. The cries of both you and Rick began to ring out through the clearing.

“Tick tock, Rick.”

“Please…” Rick sobbed out, finally looking back at Negan with desperation.

“Make a god damned decision, Rick! It’s not hard!”

“Please!” Rick begged, the words barely comprehensible as his body wracked with sobs and it all became too much. “Please, don’t – don’t do this. Let it be me… please…”

“Dad,” Carl said softly, far too calm.

Rick’s eyes met Carl’s and then his son was giving him a subtle nod from where he was pressed down to the ground.

“Enough stalling,” Negan’s voice boomed out. “I’ll make it easier for you, Rick. Give you a countdown. Get you nice and geared up and ready to go. Three.”

“Dad, it’s fine,” Carl continued, ignoring Negan. “Just do it.”

“Carl, no,” Rick was pleading with his eyes just as much as he was with his words. “I can’t…”

“Two.”

You whimpered involuntarily as Negan’s bat came to rest right in front of your face, the blood and bits of brains now impossible to ignore.

“Dad,” Carl insisted. “I’ll be okay, just do it.”

“One.”

Rick barely managed to pick his hatchet up off the ground, his mind a complete wreck as he cried, and his breaths came out in frantic pants. He was shaking uncontrollably as he took hold of his son’s arm and raised the hatchet. Carl gave him another nod of reassurance and you looked away, unable to bear it.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Negan asked calmly.

Your head snapped back to the scene in front of you, seeing that he had interrupted just before Rick swung the hatchet down.

“You answer to me,” he reminded Rick coldly. “You provide for me. You belong to me. Right?”

Rick could only nod in desperation, letting the hatchet fall back to the ground in his frenzied relief. You looked away once again as Negan snapped at Rick, once again. It was hard enough to come to terms with the reality of the situation, but seeing Rick so broken down and defeated… it was too much.

So, you drowned out the rest of what Negan said to all of you, your mind and body becoming numb. You were still in shock – all of you were – it was all just too much. You only came back to yourself when Daryl was being loaded back into the van and you realized that the Saviors were taking him. The way he cowered slightly as one of them – Dwight, you thought his name was – pointed his own crossbow at him… it just did even more to show how far you had all fallen, and how quickly.

You were all frozen as the Saviors left, just sinking into your grief and shock over the traumatic events that had just occurred. Maggie was the first one to move and Rick was the first one to speak, once you were all finally alone again. You forced yourself to stand, heading over to your sister to try and comfort her but she shrugged you off.

“Don’t,” she said, her voice cold and angry.

You couldn’t blame her. Not after everything that had just happened. So, you just stepped back away and gave her the space she clearly needed. She limped over towards Glenn’s body, with Rick being the only one to stop her, trying to gently remind her that she needed to get to Hilltop.

“No, we need to get ready.”

“For what?”

“To fight them.”

“Maggie…” you intervened. “You need a doctor. We can work the rest out later, but you can’t go on like this much longer.”

“No, I can’t,” she agreed angrily, but her voice betrayed how weak she truly was. “How can I go on, when Gle – he…”

Your tears spilled over again as the hopelessness crept back in and the reminder of her loss hit you all over again.

“Maggie, right now you need to worry about your baby.”

“Just go home,” Maggie got out, her voice wavering from the pain she was feeling – both physically and emotionally. “I can get there myself.”

“Maggie…” Rick cut in, trying as well, but she just pushed him away.

“You were out…” Your sister’s voice broke again briefly. “Out here for me…”

“We still are,” Rick assured her.

Maggie began sobbing, the reality of it all now truly sinking in.

“No, I… I can make it now on my own. I can’t have you all out here, I need you to go back.”

“Maggie…” Michonne approached her gently. “We’re not letting you go.”

“You have to,” Maggie whispered back, resolved in her decision.

“I’ll go with her,” you told Michonne, exchanging a look with the other woman.

She clearly didn’t think it was a good idea, but Maggie was your sister, so she seemed to reluctantly relent to the idea.

“I will too,” Sasha said resolutely.

“You’re not going off on your own again,” Rick argued, speaking directly to you.

“Then you come too,” Maggie snapped at Rick. “I don’t care, just… the rest of you go home.”

Your sister moved over to what remained of her husband, kneeling back down by his side. You followed, resting a hand on her shoulder as it wracked with her sobs.

“I’m not leaving him here…” she told you softly. “I’m taking him with me.”

“Of course,” you assured her. “I’ll help you. The three of us will. Okay?”

Maggie just nodded, unable to look away from Glenn – or rather, what remained of him.

“She’s suffering from abruptio placentae,” Dr. Carson informed you and Rick as he checked Maggie over while she lay down, unconscious. “A separation of the placenta from the uterus. But the baby seems healthy and fine. She’ll be okay.”

Rick sighed with relief from beside you and you felt your own heart and mind ease just a little bit. Your alpha had been quiet and distant during the journey to Hilltop, but you couldn’t blame him. And then Maggie had slipped out of consciousness during the trip, meaning your main concern was her again.

“She should stay here for now,” Carson continued. “So that I can keep an eye on them both.”

You just nodded and he began to put away some of his equipment.

“Can… can you check over Y/N too?” Rick asked, his voice cracking slightly.

“Of course,” the doctor replied, not thinking much of the request due to the black eye you were sporting, courtesy of Negan.

“I… I mean an ultrasound,” Rick continued, causing Carson to pause. “She… she’s pregnant.”

You hadn’t had a chance to talk to him yet, to tell him that you weren’t actually sure. Carson gave you both a look but then nodded before going back to what he was doing. Before long, you were seated with your shirt pulled up and the cool gel was being applied to your stomach. You could sense that Rick still wasn’t quite himself and you couldn’t blame him but you felt nervous to be doing this under such circumstances.

You turned to look at the screen as the feed began to show what the ultrasound was picking up. Carson adjusted things a little before he settled on a spot and your heart skipped a beat.

“There, you’re about two months along by the look of it.”

You were amazed by the sight, your suspicions confirmed as you took in the tiny little outline of the baby – yours and Rick’s baby. And then you felt Rick’s hand taking yours, squeezing it gently as he sat beside you, looking at the image too.

You turned to look at him and caught his gaze. He was tearing up, but this time from happiness and relief and hope. The slightest hint of a smile spread across his lips, and you choked out a sob because after everything you’d just been through, it was the most relieving thing you could have witnessed. Rick with a smile, with a little glimmer of hope again.

“The baby… it’s healthy?” Rick asked, tearing his gaze away from yours to address Carson.

“Yes, everything looks fine,” the doctor assured him.

Rick brought his attention back to you and he looked like he was struggling again to comprehend what was happening around him, so you brought your joined hands up to your lips, pressing a kiss against his fingers. He gave you another small smile, but his mind seemed to be drifting away.

You let it go for now, knowing it was a shock for him (all of it was) and that there would be time to discuss it all later in private.

Next Part

#rick grimes x reader #rick grimes/reader #rick grimes x f!reader #alpha!rick grimes x omega!reader #alpha rick grimes #omega reader #female reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes/you #rick grimes fanfic

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bluehouryoongi · 3 months

Text

BITE ME- 2: The Party

Pairing: Jake x Female Reader

Genre: Vampire Enhypen and Human Reader College Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU

Synopsis: Set in present-day Pacific Northwest US. Y/n in a college student, and keeps to herself. One day, she has strange encounters with two statuesque men, one of which invites her to a party (at their mansion ofc) where she drunkenly confesses that she can't pay her rent. Vast and highly believable events ensue, leading to her live with 7 a-little-too-perfect guys. That's all you need to know.

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When I walk in the door of my apartment I see that mail has been dropped off. On the top is an envelope that reads *URGENT RENT NOTICE* Shit. It’s due again already? There’s no way I have enough. With all of my classes, I barely have time to pick up shifts at the bookstore. I do as much as I can, but clearly it is not enough. I wouldn’t have this problem if I could have a few roommates…I haven’t been able to find any that would work, though. Everytime I meet up with someone, it is clear that their definition of sharing chores and keeping the apartment in order are VERY different from mine. Do I have a problem? maybe…slightly…I just like to keep things clean. When they are not clean I get panicked, and start sweating and breathing heavily. I know I should just suck it up and get roommates no matter what state they keep their rooms in. The alternative is having to go and live back at home…which is hours away. Not exactly a daily commute distance. I sigh heavily, because this is the last thing I need to be worrying about right now. The semester is ramping up, and my classes are keeping me extremely busy. I hardly have time to eat.

My mind shifts to the party I agreed to go to tomorrow. Now, I am considering that it’s not such a good idea. What was I thinking? I don’t have time to go to parties, I have papers to write! Something about Jake though… it draws me in. Sunoo, too. Even after the short interactions we had I am intrigued and want to know more. They have eyes that make me forget who I am, and what I was thinking. I shake away the thought. I will just reevaluate tomorrow. Right now, I have two papers due that require all of my attention.

Before that, though, I need to spill all of this to Gracie. She knows better than anyone that I rarely have information to gossip about boys. I pull up her contact and hit facetime. She answers immediately.

“Hiiii” She says

“Hi. So. Super weird day.”

“Oh? Tell me more. Did a goose chase you to your car again?”

She will never let me live that down. “No, actually. This has to do with the statues.”

“SPILL!” She practically yells

“Okay, okay… so I ran into Jake today. Like actually rammed into him because I wasn’t looking in front of me because of the rain. Then he gave me his umbrella. Before you ask, yes, he is perfect up close”

She squeals. I’m smiling, too, because this is the most excitement I have had all semester. “Then at work Sunoo comes in and just like, lounges up against the front desk. He doesn’t even look around the store, he just kinda…stared at me? I don’t know. Then he invited me to a party that’s happening at their house tomorrow, and for some reason I said I would go.”

“Oh. My. God.”

“I know.”

“This is insane!!!! Wait, do you think he knows who you are? Do you think he planned to invite you specifically and that’s why he came into the store? What will you wear?!”

For the next hour we go over the interactions multiple times. If there's one thing we are gonna do, it’s overanalyze. I hang up the phone feeling winded from laughing so much. I am actually looking forward to tomorrow now, just thinking about relaying the entire experience back to her the next day. Once I have settled down I realize it is almost midnight and I need to get to homework.

I sit at my desk, put on my classical music playlist, and get to work. Hours later as I lay in bed, I think about my interactions with the two mysterious boys. Why can’t I shake the feeling that I want to know them more? –

I am looking at my closet and quickly realize I have nothing that works to go to this party. Judging by Sunoos clothes yesterday, which was (likely luxury) black straight leg pants, a tastefully oversized sweater, and a long jacket over the top, I can imagine his party outfit will be just as impressive. I try to remember what Jake was wearing and my memory falls short. I was so focused on the fact that he was actually in front of me that I did not take the time to assess his fashion choices. I smile to myself, thinking about the umbrella he gave me. Chivalry is not dead, I guess.

Okay, back to business. I rifle through my closet, and end up deciding to try and replicate what Sunoo wore. Is that weird? I mean, my version looks very different. I end up choosing a pair of straight leg black pants, a dark red corset-style top (something in me decided to buy it months ago and I have never had an opportunity to wear it out), and of course I throw on a chunky knit cardigan on top. Because I may be going to a party, but I am still me.

I opt to keep my hair as-is, mostly because I don’t know how to do anything else. It’s getting longer, probably the longest it's been since high school, hitting just past my shoulders. For makeup, I do a simple winged eyeliner, with lots of blush on my cheeks. Looking at my reflection, I think damn, okay. I did that.

I decide to just wear my sneakers, because I'm not like other girls.

In reality, it is just all I have and I doubt anyone will look at my feet at a party. I check the time, my phone reading 8:36pm. I take a deep breath, grab my purse, and head out the door.

The drive takes about 15 minutes; their house is a little out of the way. I don’t know what to expect as I turn onto a long driveway. I have heard people talk at school, saying that the boys live in a mansion or a castle. I never thought that would be literally true until it is right in front of me.

Wow. This place is massive. I don’t find myself around mansions…ever, actually so I can’t really judge. All I know is the expansive modern/minimalist house is very large, and very nice. Warm lighting spills from inside, and I can’t help but think about how inviting it looks. Something about the persona and reputation of the boys had me expecting it to look cold and dark, but I am quickly realizing I might be reading too many gothic novels.

I find a place to park and take a deep breath. This is WAY outside of my comfort zone. I don’t have many friends, which is how I like it. College people are a lot of work. My mom tells me I'm an old soul because I spend my weekends at a book club with women 50 years and older. It is just easier that way. There is no drama, no misunderstanding, and no unrealistic expectations.

Something about Sunoo made me want to do what he said. Not in a demanding sort of way, just in that something about our personalities just clicked. I think I might have a chance of making a friend my age after all.

–

I can hear the noise of lots of people inside. I am thoroughly intimidated, but I am already here so, fuck it. I open the front door- because I won’t be the person who knocks at a party. I have some sense. I walk in, squeezing past crowds of people. Loud music blares, although I don’t know from where. There must be speakers all throughout this house with how much it is projecting.

A makeshift dance floor has formed, with a few too many people grinding than I want to make eye contact with. As I try and make a beeline out of that area, I feel myself trip on someone's foot. Great. Before I can fully flail and make a fool of myself, I feel arms grab a hold of my wrists and steady me.

I look up and make eye contact with my savior. I am met with deeply brown eyes, long eyelashes, an absurdly chiseled jawline, and tastefully thick eyebrows.

“You okay?” I read his lips, but I can’t hear him over the loud music.

I nod my head in response, and realize I am just as much clutching to his wrists as he is mine. To be honest, I have no idea how much time passes as we stand there, holding wrists and looking into each other's eyes like we are in some romance movie.

Our contact is broken, but only for him to lightly grab hold of my shoulders and bring me closer to him. So close that I no longer can see his face and only feel his breathe on my ear as he says:

“That was definitely my foot you tripped on. I’m sorry.”

I shift so that it is my mouth almost touching his ear in order to respond by saying:

“It could have been anyone. We are packed like sardines in here and I wasn’t exactly paying attention to whose feet were where.” I smile, which I know he can feel because I can see goosebumps form on his porcelain neck.

I lean back, so we are facing each other again. This much eye contact would normally make me squirm, but I am surprisingly keeping my cool. Although I have never met him, I recognize as being one of the guys who lives here. There is perfection about him that can be only described as ethereal. Like a statue.

Okay. Let me not gawk at him.

I clear my throat and look around me. Trying to not make it obvious that I don’t know where to take this conversation.

When I look back at him, there is a ghost of a smile on his lips.

He leans in again, his scent invading my headspace. It's all woody and masculine, but not heavy on the cologne. I can’t help but swoon a little bit.

“I’m Sunghoon,” he says. “And you look like you could use a drink.”

“Yes.” I reply. “I’m y/n.”

The smile, or maybe I should say half smile, stays. I can’t help but notice it falters for just a half second, though.

He grabs a hold of my hand and starts leading me through the crowd before I can overthink that split change in expression. At least I don’t have to worry about tripping over anyone’s toes, the crowd parts for Sunghoon effortlessly. We approach a bar- yes an actual bar. In the house. Money never ceases to amaze me.

Manning the booth is a tall, dark haired, (almost equally to Sunghoon) chiseled individual. I notice there is more of a point to his face, and his expression stays hard. When Sunghoon approaches, he nods in silent recognition. His eyes shift to me, and there lies a question in his eyes. No doubt wondering who I am, and why I am glued to Sunghoon’s side. I am not intentionally staying so close, it just so happens that it's hard to keep a distance when there are so many people packed in a room. Not that I’m complaining. There’s a safety I can’t explain standing with him.

Sunghoon walks behind the bar like he owns the place. Which, I guess he kind of does.

They each have an energy about them that is so magnetizing I just can’t seem to pull away, nor do I want to. He looks over to me, grinning, and I melt. I am no better than the gossiping girls who fawn over the elusive statue boys. He hands me a reddish pink drink in a glass. I look around to the others around me. Everyone else is holding red solo cups, which is what I expected as well. But no, I have an ice- cold crystal glass in my hands. I almost hold it with both hands just to be cautious. I take a small sip to find a very strong vodka cranberry. I don’t drink often, so I know I will have to nurse this one drink all night in order to not regret all my choices.

Sunghoon rejoins me at my side, holding an identical glass. A comfortable silence surrounds the two of us as we stand on the outskirts of the thick crowd of partiers.

“y/n.” I can feel his breath on my ear, shivers running through my body.

“Hm?” I reply, turning to face him again.

“You’ve never come to our parties before.” It’s not a question.

“No, I haven’t. How did you know?”

“You are clearly not comfortable here. Plus I would have known.” He doesn’t elaborate just how he would have known.

“Hm.” I say again. Why do I keep humming? My mind is swimming with thoughts and completely blank simultaneously.

Just before he can say another word, I feel someone grab both my shoulders.

“You came!!” Sunoo. I take a relaxed breath.

“Hi!” I say and turn to face him.

He wraps me in a hug. I’m a little stiff, as I would not have expected this level of affection, however I lean into it. It’s nice.

“I didn’t think you would actually show. You look hot by the way. All the right choices.” I feel triumphant.

“Thank you,” I say with a smile. I don’t know when we became such good friends, but I am not mad about it. I haven’t felt this kind of friendship in…years.

“Do you dance?” he asks, “Please come dance”

How could I say no? With the twinkle in his eye, I could never.

“Sure, yeah, let's do it!”

I feel additionally much more open to the idea of dancing with Sunoo after that strong ass drink Sunghoon gave me. Why on earth wouldn’t I want to dance?

Kesha is blaring through the speakers, and I yell to Sunoo who has started to drag me out to the middle of the dancefloor, “This is my shit!!”

Was it? Who cares, I felt free, and you bet your ass I was about to jump around to “blow” by Kesha.

Before I can think deeply of it, I look back to Sunghoon. He is leaning against the wall, watching. His glass is empty now, that same light grin on his lips. His lips. They look so good. Should I tell him? I definitely drank too much of my Vodka cranberry in an effort to do something with myself while just standing there next to Sunghoon. It was the party equivalent to twiddling my thumbs.

Before I could finish that thought about whether or not I should tell Sunghoon just how good he looks (which I definitely should not), Sunoo and I are jumping around on the dance floor. I don’t know what comes over me, and yet I am moving my body in ways I never have before.

I feel Sunoo’s body tight next to mine, jumping and shaking and laughing. I haven’t had this much fun…ever.

We are holding hands, singing in each other's faces, and thoroughly getting into it. When I can feel my hair sticking to my face from sweat, I know it's time I find some water.

I mouth “water!” to Sunoo, who nods in agreement and takes my hand. We walk back to the bar, laughing and singing the current song. The guy behind the bar, (was he this handsome before, or did he get handsome-er?) shakes his head, clearly this not being the first time he’s seen Sunoo like this.

“Water please, Jay!!” Sunoo yells. Jay. So that’s his name. “Make it ICY!”

Jay hands us our waters, this time in red cups, and adds “ICE water, your majesty” and adds in a little bow, clearly joking. So he’s funny. I like him.

Right now, I like everything. Why don’t I drink more often?

Sunoo leads me to a quiet corner. I think it's a separate room, or maybe a hallway. I don’t know. Things are fuzzy.

I sink to the floor, to which Sunoo follows suit.

“Your house…is massive.” I say. No shit.

He laughs. “Yeah. Too big for its own good.”

I just smile. “I'm jealous” I say, getting far too close to his face.

He looks at me, more serious this time. “Where are you living, anyway?”

“Hmm…like 15 minutes from here? Close to campus. It’s a tiny apartment. Not for long, though”

“You’re moving?” I think I see a look of concern on his face, but it’s gone faster than it came.

“Maybe? I might be forced to. I got another letter today telling me to pay my rent, in Big. Bold. Letters.” Why am I saying all this? Why can’t I stop? Oh god, I am going to say more. “The problem is…I don’t have the money” I’m slurring some of my words.

“You can’t pay your rent?” Now he definitely sounds concerned.

Oh no, I can’t have him feeling bad for me. Not when we just met and now I am trauma dumping on him.

“Well, no, not technically. I just need to get some roommates? The problem is… I can’t find…any…they are all so dirty and so much drama. I can’t do it. I would rather move back home.”

“Where is home?” He asks, so gently.

“About…6 hours away? Give or take?” I don’t know how I would be able to stay in school if I had to move back home. My dream has always been to come to college, and I can feel it slipping away. My eyes start to pool.

I cannot cry to Sunoo right now. Before I can get up and pretend this conversation ever happened, he says, “We have lots of extra rooms.”

I’m confused. Is he just saying that to flaunt how big their house is? He doesn’t seem like the type, but I don’t know him, not really. I don’t say anything.

“I could talk to the boys.” He says, as if this clarifies anything.

Because I am drunk, and filter be damned, I reply, “I’m sorry…what? What are you saying?”

He chuckles. “You could stay in one of our rooms. We have plenty, many more than we could ever need. I’ll talk to the boys.”

This is insane. “No…no, I could never ask you to do that. I hope you don’t think I- I didn’t say all that just for you to offer…i’m fine.” my response comes out choppy and I am moving my hands around far too much, but I can’t help it. I could never accept something like this. Especially not from him, who I literally just met.

“Shhhh. I’m not saying they will say yes. I’m just saying I'll ask them. Okay?”

And because I literally cannot say no to this man (seriously is he magic or something?) I just nod slowly, and then weakly say “okay.”

He smiles, satisfied, and stands up. Clearly he has not drunk as much as me, or just has a higher tolerance. I, however, get up slowly using the wall the whole way up to stabilize. My head is spinning. It’s about time I call it a night. I follow Sunoo back into the party chaos.

“I think…I need to go home.” I tell him.

“Okay, did you drive here? You definitely cannot drive home.” Shit. I forgot.

“Um…yeah I did. Maybe I could Uber?” I should never have drank. I’m supposed to be saving money, not spending it on an Uber ride home from a party. I needed to loosen up, though, and I somehow can’t feel bad for all the fun I had tonight.

“Wait here…I’ll be right back.” He says and disappears into the crowd. How does he move so quickly? I swear he just disappeared in front of my eyes. Wow, I’m a lightweight. Noted.

I lean up against the wall, just watching the crowd. I have no idea where Sunoo went off to, but I don’t have it in me to think deeply about it. I lightly shut my eyes when I feel the presence of someone right in front of me. Sunoo’s back, and he brought someone.

“You know Jake, right?” He asks me. This wakes me right up, and I straighten up and clear my throat. I think I even attempt to fix my hair.

“Um…yeah. I think…I’ve met him before…” Or literally yesterday. Or took a class with him last semester. Or have seen him around and watched him from afar a few too many times. None of these things I say.

“Hi,” he says, doing a little wave. Wow, he's cute.

“Hi” I say, and smile lightly.

“Jake is going to drive you home. Okay? He hasn’t drank tonight. I was going to ask Hoon but he’s already four drinks deep.” Is Sunoo my guardian angel or something? He’s being so kind, and I don’t know why. I appreciate it, but it's unexpected with the cold exterior all of the statue boys have. It’s a nice surprise.

“Oh…that’s okay! I can just order an Uber or something! Really, don’t worry about it.” I reply.

“I don’t mind.” Jake replies. He doesn’t sound annoyed, which is good. I don’t have the energy to argue any more about it, so I reply,

“Thank you, really. I’ll repay you somehow” I’m not sure how, but surely there’s something I can do for him.

He just grins and turns, expecting me to follow, which I do. We weave through bodies to go into another unknown hallway. The sounds of the party are distant now, but we still don’t say anything. He opens a door, leading to a garage. We are met with a long row of cars, all of which look brand new and expensive. Jake walks over to a small black Porsche and opens the passenger side door, gesturing for me to get in, which I do.

“Thanks.” I say. The car smells amazing. I can’t quite place it but it's my kryptonite…clean. It sounds weird, but something being clean is quite possibly the best thing ever to me. I close my eyes and take a deep breath in. Jake gets into the driver's seat. I try not to stare but…he’s wearing a black t-shirt, and it fits in all the right places. He isn’t exactly bulky, but it's clear he is strong. Veins gently protrude from his arm, running down to his hands. Okay, I’m definitely staring. The man is beautiful, with skin that looks like glass. How is that even possible?

I look up to his face, where he is staring at me. He noticed me checking him out. Yikes, I will lie awake thinking about that fact later. He doesn’t look disgusted, though. He actually looks almost…amused? I’m reminded by the fact that he is ogled by every other girl at the University. This is not a rare occurrence for him, and he probably expects no less.

I look away, suddenly finding my hands very interesting. He turns on the car, and looks behind him as he backs the car out of the garage. Thank god for the radio, which breaks the silence. As we settle into the drive, I try to focus on the music rather than the very beautiful and large man next to me.

He clears his throat. “Uh, what’s your address?” he asks. Oh right, of course he wouldn’t just know where I live. I tell him, and he nods his head like he knows where he’s going. He doesn’t plug it into maps. Confident.

“Are you taking any other literature courses this semester?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“What?” Oh my god, does he not remember that we took a class together?

It’s okay, it’s fine. Let’s be confident. No going back, now. “We took the same Romanticism Literature class last semester. You might not have seen me… I only talked a few times…” Or every class. I was one of those people who would raise my hand when no one else would, which just happened to be just about every class. Other than when Jake chimed in.

“Oh yeah, I remember you. No actually, I’m not taking any literature courses. I wanted to, it just didn’t really fit with my schedule.”

“I hate when that happens” I reply.

“What about you?” He asks

“Oh, yeah I am taking a few. I am an English Lit major so it’s kind of required”

He chuckles lightly at this, which makes me feel like I won the lottery. I steal a look over to him to see if I can catch a glimpse of his smile. It’s gone before I could, back to the ever-stoic Jake.

We fall into another silence, though this time much more comfortable. Before I know it, we pull into the parking lot of my apartment complex. It just now occurs to me that we simply left my car back at their house.

“Thank you so much, really. I appreciate it a lot. I don’t drink much, so I guess I didn’t realize I’m that much of a lightweight.”

He shakes his head, “no problem, glad you got home safe.”

“Should I…come pick up my car tomorrow?” This is awkward.

“Will you be on campus tomorrow?” he asks.

“Yeah, I was planning on being in the library for a while, why?”

“I can just meet you on campus and drive you back to my place. From there you can take your car.” Wow, how are they all so generous?

“That’s perfect. Thank you so much, I’m sorry to put so much trouble on you”

He looks right into my eyes, and I would lie if I pretended my heart didn’t squeeze at his brown eyes. “It's no trouble. I'll find you tomorrow.”

“Great.” I reply. I unbuckle and start to get out of the car, but he grabs my wrist. I turn to face him again, but he says first;

“Drink some water, and take some medicine. You’ll thank me tomorrow.” His eyes are so kind, I could look into them forever. I almost just do, but then I remember this is reality and not my dream world. So I just smile, tight-lipped, and get out of the car.

The cool air is a nice change, as I notice how warm my cheeks got in Jake’s presence. It might be the alcohol, right?

#enhypen #sim jaeyun #ao3 fanfic #college au #kim sunoo #lee heeseung #nishimura riki #park jeongseong #park sunghoon #vampire au #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enha fluff

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sanversandfriends · 1 year

Text

From post-apocalyptic bridges to viral outbreaks and Hollywood gossip columns, this writer has been consistently gifting/traumatizing the Sanvers fandom with magnificent storytelling and gorgeous prose. And angst. Did we say angst? Here to provide some insight into how she stresses us all out, is the inimitable @roadien60 !

Tell us a little about yourself. How did you get started writing fic? Have you written for other fandoms? What are your favorite tropes? I started writing fic for The Matrix circa 2000 or 2001. I had recently seen the movie, was immediately obsessed with it, and somehow discovered fanfic online in my journey of trying to read, think, and learn more about The Matrix. I was deeply involved in Matrix fandom for several years (yes, I had a different handle then, and no, I will not tell you what it was). Once that faded circa 2003/4, I ventured away from fandom for a long, long time—long enough that I didn't expect to ever stumble into it again. And then, on recommendation from a trusted queer friend, I stumbled into Warehouse 13. I think I may have read fic for Bering and Wells before I ever watched an episode. But then I did watch, and I started writing around the same time. That was in 2013, I think. Then that show ended, and I can't remember how I found my way into Sanvers, but here we are.

Tropes: I'm a sucker for a forbidden love story, especially one built on mistaken or hidden identity. A lot of people say that tension built on lies and secrets is lazy storytelling... but I'm of the opinion that it all depends on how well the lie/secrecy is justified by the story and the world the characters are living in. What were your inspirations for this particular story? What was it about this/these ships that grabbed you? Oh, gosh, I don't remember where the train fic idea came from at this point. I wish I did.

In terms of the ships: honestly, I don't really remember that, either! But a thing I've realized is that I am rarely interested in chosen one stories or in central characters with superpowers or other forms of magic (unless they're in a world where a lot of other people have the same powers they do). I am, however, interested in the stories of people who live in worlds with superheroes—the "normal" people who try to make a difference in worlds where there are superhumans who can transform everything at a blink. I loved The Matrix because of Trinity, and I loved Bering and Wells for Myka—the "normal" people in pairings with special/magical partners. In Sanvers, I love that neither of them is special but they have to navigate their proximity to a person with extreme powers. From a character standpoint, that's really compelling to me. Has the time spent away from your story changed your outlook or approach to any of the storylines or themes? Have you had any new inspirations or breakthroughs/revelations in the meantime? Yeah--the main thing I realized recently was that rejuvenating this story for me required me to dig into Maggie's POV in a way I hadn't before in this story. I've been enjoying that. Also I realized I had to actually hash out a timeline, which I hated doing but was necessary for this story to make sense.

#Supergirl #Sanvers #Finish the Fic #Bering and Wells #Matrix

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fareehaandspaniards · 8 months

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Hey, since you smoked some more Laurence information and inspiration, how do you feel about Laurence x Rom ship idea? This is the last combination within Byrgenwerth's main four that was never explored yet :') It is /THAT/ rare. XD

Also imagine Laurence and Rom bullying Micolash and Caryll in Byrgenwerth era for not having disagreed with Willem even once (haaaahaaaa teacher's pets!), then bullying them in Healing Church era for still not evolving when Laurence got cool horns and Rom got cool extra eyes.... and maybe then some day in the Nightmare they are still laughing at Micolash and Caryll for not becoming monsters and dying as just some boring twinks gfbhghfh (I know it is not canon because Laurence did NOT want to lose humanity, I am just shitposting xD)

Are they really a rare ship?? Like yeah, I haven’t seen any fanart for them, but it seemed very obvious to me that they are very shippable!

Bullying you mean like that? XD

And Caryll with Micolash be like:

Okay, but talking about Laurence/Rom, I think that's the only ship I really like with Laurence :^) I hc Ludwig as a married man, Gehrman loves Maria, maybe Brador/Laurence could be fine...?

Rom and Laurence could be a great couple and maybe even help each other with their weaknesses and flaws. Laurence would be an incentive for Rom to be bolder and could understand her troubles, since he is an excellent psychologist, and Rom, in turn, would take care of him and help him not to go too far, combining progress and humanity! Actually, I think such a pair would be Yharnam's salvation!

I have headcanon that during Byrgerkingth era (no, I am not tired of this pun) Laurence initially considered her a “lower” class, since she is an orphan and not noble like himself (well, and also since she is very smart! We don’t miss the point that neglect and the desire to humiliate often come from envy and deep admiration, right? I’ll soon write and translate a post on this topic, because I fell in love with another ship!!!). Laurence was quite an unpleasant young man in his first two years of study! And if after a while he found a common ground with Romi, the rest of the students were compelled to tolerate him for a long time - he could easily deceive someone, set up – oh, clearly “high school” vibes xD

What pushed him and Rom to friendship - probably was that Laurence was extremely lonely and complex on the inside, and he created many enemies for himself with his own hands! Rom would have been one of those who would have forgiven all the previous mockery, just because she believes in his good side. And for this he secretly would be her “protector,” like, without advertising it, but if someone makes her feel bad, they will definitely be ridiculed and publicly humiliated.

Plus, I love the concept of the “Byrgenwerth trinity” Rom + Laurence + Micolash, and there are a lot of details about their communication, but now I probably need to focus on Rom. The key point is that she and Laurence, in a special way, acted as “parents” for Micolash (although I am not sure he liked it, especially because for some time he was interested in Rom, you know, romatically). And it brought them closer again!

As a result, in the middle of her studying in Byrgenwerth, Rom had around her - Caryll, who admired and respected her, but quietly, modestly and from afar, faithful Yuri (I remember the nuance with her name as with Caryll, but I still use version from Eng localization, since it is more familiar) and Laurence, the only who could see her as a woman, not only a good friend and sister (Micolash was kinda upset discovering that they are half-siblings :^( )

Laurence, in turn, went through real personality development, experiencing transformation during his studying, as often happens with bullies. And from an ugly, bullying duckling, he turned into a balanced, understanding and pleasant swan, which in fact he always was, just inside! (I think this would be the first time Micolash would be truly angry at him, because they would become less “alike.”) And Rom would not immediately understand this change. Reincarnated, Laurence would already be thinking about his future life, after graduation, and would come to the conclusion that he simply could not find a better wife than Rom. She is smart, kind and would not prevent him from blood researches, since she shares his passion for science. So he started hitting on her. But Rom remained indifferent, feeling that it was all insincere - just a practical calculation. And Laurence liked that fact, because she saw him through!

Next comes Research Hall, where Rom (based on your, dear Katy, research, which I sliiiightly took to my headcanons xD) was a patient (imagine Laurence being concerned about her and seeing as a future prophet for the Church, it's both science and love, tho cruel tbh), and then the Choir. Actually, Rom as the leader of the Choir is very logical, even if it’s not mentioned in the game. Laurence and Micolash, her friend and brother, are outstanding figures, why does she always remain on the sidelines? I think she had even more Insight than these two from the beginning! She perfectly perceives those same higher planes that Micolash strives for, and is able to communicate with Ebrietas, because she fEeLs.

Aaaand... Laurence and Rom could have become officially a couple after foundation of Choir! Tender, warm to each other, not demanding anything from each other except love.

There is a difficult moment with the timeline, but I would like to headcanon that Rom distanced herself from the Choir, from Micolash - from everyone when Laurence died, turning into a beast, and this became the point-of-no-return, after which she no longer needed anything, and her grief resonated with Ebrietas, causing the Great One to feel compassion for her...

So yes, good ship, deserves attention

#bloodborne headcanons #ask #mutuals #laurence the first vicar #rom the vacuous spider #They look so good together #my art #plus one ship to the whole vision of bb world

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yandere-caesar · 2 years

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I really liked the yandere jotakak one,if its fine to you then can i request them but they chop of all of there s/o's limbs and they take advantage of that by having hardcore sex?

Sure!

I would rather be anywhere else

Pairing: yandere!Jotaro x gender neutral!reader x yandere!Kakyoin

Description: Even without the ability to walk, you still aren't willing to give up everything just yet.

Warnings: Amputation, heavy gore, poly, unhealthy relationships, abuse, yandere themes. (I did not get to the noncon part of this and I am sorry)

DISCLAIMER: This is my first time writing at length about a character who can’t walk and I am not physically disabled. If anyone who is disabled is reading this and I got anything wrong please feel free to send in an ask and correct me.

It's been a while since you were tricked into being the prisoner of your once loving boyfriends. You've sort of fallen into a routine at this point, as much as you hate to admit it.

While they refuse to get you anything that would help you move around more easily, they are willing to carry you wherever you need to go. You suppose it’s better than just being stuck on the bed. Jotaro usually carries you to the kitchen table in the morning so that you can eat and whichever one of them is supposed to stay home that day usually helps you the rest of the time.

You hate every second of it. Sometimes you can almost forget what they did to you until you look down. When you do, it takes everything in you not to stop crying again. No amount of distraction with movies and videogames can fix this, but they can at least temporarily keep you sane enough to not be punished.

Kakyoin doesn’t seem to even act like there’s anything wrong. He keeps talking to you, touching you, and trying to hang out with you like this is just another night you are spending at their house. A night that goes on forever without ending. Maybe that was what he really wanted the whole time.

Jotaro doesn’t say it, but you can tell that he regrets what he did. He can’t seem to look you in the eye on the days that you feel the worst. He’s always been too observant to delude himself into thinking that you can be happy like this. So he’ll just sit with you in silence, without doing or saying anything. The most he’ll do is try to pull you into an embrace and when he does, it’s a little too tight. Like he’s worried you’ll fall apart. It would be enough to make you pity him if he had done almost anything else.

The one good thing is that they haven’t punished you harshly for a while. The most that they did after the incident was take away your videogames for a day. And while it was agonizing to have to deal with your own thoughts and terrors without their aid, there had been nothing extreme.

Today was luckily not one of the days they had taken them away and you were sitting on the sofa during one of the few times that they left you alone. While it was rare, sometimes if Jotaro was the one staying home with you he would leave you for a few minutes to go do his own thing. You weren’t sure if he was just working from home on these days or if it was the guilt weighing him down, but either way you appreciated the break.

Your stand manifested next to you, watching you click the next set of commands for the RPG you were using to distract yourself. You hadn’t dared to bring it out ever since that day. You weren’t sure if they would be above using it against you at this point and you didn’t want to find out. They still didn’t know much about it and you wanted to keep it that way.

You pause the game, letting out a sigh. It wasn’t doing enough for you. You had already beaten this one five times on other playthroughs. While you could try to challenge yourself and do different builds, you were starting to get bored and it was starting to feel really hollow.

You look down at where your legs were, trying to keep your hands from shaking as you grip the controller. It wasn’t fair. You had been so close to leaving. So close to getting away from them and being safe. If you had been just a little quicker with your plan, then this nightmare never would have happened. Was anyone even looking for you? You weren’t sure. After all, you weren’t that close with anyone before they took you.

Your stand subconsciously puts a hand on you, probably in an attempt to sooth you and keep you from breaking down again. Being part of you, it could sense when you were in distress. While it wasn’t much, you did appreciate the slight comfort from someone that wasn’t your captors.

You can feel it lifting you off the sofa and pulling you into a hug. You lean into the gesture, trying to hold back more of your tears. You weren’t sure how long Jotaro would be gone and you didn’t want him to walk in and see you like this.

Right before you heard the footsteps coming and sent your stand away, a thought occurred to you. Your stand was able to levitate. Your stand didn’t need to actually use it’s legs at all.

You were pulled out of your thoughts as Jotaro came back into the room. You unpause the game and start playing it again, trying to pretend that he isn’t there. It would be easier for both of you if you did.

He lets out a sigh and sits down next to you, muttering a “Good grief” under his breath.

“Listen y/n, I don’t know why you had the game paused before I came in, but whatever you’re planning, stop it. It isn’t going to work. I don’t want to have to hurt you again.”

You stare at the screen, not making eye contact with him or even bothering to look away from it.

“Then why did you do it the first time?”

You’re met with silence for a few moments before he speaks again.

“We were going easy on you. You should see the crap Kakyoin has planned if you run again. I don’t like it, but I already made him compromise.”

“And how exactly am I going to run like this?” You pat your thigh to get your point across. “You ruined my life Jotaro. Both of you. You were the only people I trusted and you took everything from me.”

He reaches over to try to put a hand on your shoulder, but you slap it away. “Just leave me alone...I’m tired of having to pretend I’m not miserable.”

That seems to be enough to make him go quiet. There’s a moment of heavy silence before he mutters something and leaves the room again. You could tell from the look he gave you that you actually hurt him. Maybe he really was trying to help you in his own twisted way, but that didn’t change any of this.

You go back to playing the game in case Jotaro’s guilt wore off and he decided to come back in, but in the back of your mind you started to think. The window had bars on it now, but you could always pick the lock on the front door again.

You glance back at it. There were so many locks and you were being imprisoned by a man who could literally stop time. If Jotaro noticed you were gone it was over since you could never hope to outrun him, but on the other hand he was the more lieutenant of the two and the worst thing he would probably do would be yelling or taking away your games. You didn’t like the sound of whatever Kakyoin had told him.

Weighing the options you have, you decide that it’s now or never.

Your stand manifests again and you pull out your bobby pin. You were glad that they hadn’t found it yet. Taking your legs may have made it harder for you to leave, but it also meant that they let their guard down around you.

Your stand scoops you up and floats over to the exit. You start slowly getting to work, undoing each and every lock methodically. You were trying to go as quickly as you could, but you had to make sure it was lined up correctly. Every moment was agonizing and you could feel your chest tighten with every movement you made. Would he notice you were escaping?

As the final lock unlatches though, you let out a quiet sigh of relief. All you had to do was walk out now. You weren’t worried about Kakyoin coming home early today, so you should be fine this time.

You slowly turn the knob and push the door open, letting your stand carry you outside. You smile as you breath in the air again. How long had it been again...?

Your stand carries you back down the familiar path to your old place and you enter it, a warm feeling easing into you. You missed it. Your missed your stuff, the things you had on your wall, sleeping in your own bed.

But you couldn’t stay here. This was probably the first place they would look once they figured out you were gone. You were just here to grab your money, pack your bags, and say goodbye to it one last time. You really would miss this place. This was the first real home you had ever had.

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

It wasn’t easy fleeing from them. You always had to be two steps ahead of them at all times and think of places they wouldn’t look for you. Sometimes this meant sleeping in run down hotels. Other times it meant parking your car a good distance away from you and camping out in the woods.

One of the first things you had done after you were a good distance away was get a good wheelchair and trade your car for one that was more accessible. While you could use your stand for some things to make up for your condition, you couldn’t use it for everything and non stand users had already panicked and given you weird looks when they saw you floating before.

As you sat at a restaurant and picked at the stack of pancakes in front of you, you start thinking about what you are going to do long term. School was out of the question at this point. You no doubt had failed all of your classes by now and going back would just put you at risk. It’s not like you could get Jotaro and Kakyoin arrested or kicked out. You didn’t have any evidence and no one would trust your word over their word since they were the only people that really knew you.

Maybe if you were lucky you could get some kind of job. Rent a place with a room mate. It wasn’t following your dreams and it certainly wasn’t the life you wanted to live at all, but it would mean safety and survival. Safety and survival would always win out as much as you hated it. They pretty much stole your life from you, but this was better than going back.

Anyway, there were pancakes today. And you were starving. You had to skip a meal yesterday, so you were looking forward to this.

You didn’t let down your guard though. You were constantly looking around to make sure that you couldn’t make out any familiar faces. Satisfied that you were mostly alone, you let yourself enjoy the pancakes, digging into them with your fork as quickly as possible.

“Looks like somebody is in a hurry.”

The voice behind you almost makes you spit out your food. You would recognize the sickeningly sweet tone that he always had around you anywhere. Your stand moves to pick you up, as you mutter out an apology under your breath before leaving some money on the table and starting to move to the exit. You could hear footsteps behind you and you could just barely make out the green of Kakyoin’s stand out of the corner of your eye, creeping along the floor as it chased after you. No one else would be able to see it. No one would even know you were in danger as you flew past them even if they were giving you looks.

As you got to the door, a looming figure stepped in front of it to block your path to safety. You curse yourself. You should have known he wouldn’t be alone. Of course he wouldn’t. You look back to see nothing but writhing green everywhere. It was over. You had lost.

You feel a hand on your shoulder as Jotaro glares down at you. Kakyoin comes up behind you with a terrifyingly gleeful look on his face.

“I’m so glad we found you again y/n. We missed you so much. Finish your pancakes. You’ll need your energy for later.”

You did not like the sound of that.

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

You tried to eat as slowly as possible, looking around to make sure there wasn’t anything you missed. That there wasn’t some backdoor you hadn’t seen that you could still make a dash for. But no, it didn’t seem like there was. And even if there had been one, would didn’t have a chance at outrunning Jotaro.

#unfinished work #jjba yandere #jotakak #yandere Jotaro #yandere kakyoin #jotaro #kakyoin #jotaro x reader #kakyoin x reader #poly #tw gore #tw amputation

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tripleyeeet · 9 months

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I’m sorry for this rant but you reblogged my tags and I just… took that as permission to give you at least the slightly more detailed description (as opposed to the essay) of what I was thinking with those.

Your writing is not silly!! It’s really really good, and I am in love with the way you portray the depth of the characters. They’re real, they’re going through shit, they’re dealing with it in ways that may or may not make sense because, again, they’re real people! And I did absolutely notice how gently you handled the impacts trauma can have on wanting, or even allowing yourself to want. And not just sexual wanting, but any sort of wanting. And not needing to give permission to someone else but also needing to give permission to yourself!! And that it’s okay to both… want something but be uncomfortable with it. Or to not want something but want it so badly it hurts. And that there is no one single way to handle trauma. It was just beautifully done.

All that to say, I think you are an extremely talented writer, and I love seeing your name pop up on my dash. I’m very sorry you’re having a bad day, and my inbox/DMs are always open ❤️

okay but that's exactly what i was going for, so thank you.

i myself haven't read a ton of astarion fic because i've been so busy playing the game and writing a lover's folly but i know in other fandoms i've been apart of there's very little conversation about the impact of sex. both in and out a traumatic spaces.

obviously, i'm all for shameless smut and dark fic once in a while but even in fics where i've read the most emotional prose i've ever laid eyes on, it's very rare that the characters have a conversation about boundaries related to the bedroom.

most of the time i assume it's because the smut is the main focus in that moment, but i really do wish that more writers would take to time to show the sensuality that can be paired with consent.

because consent is sexy! it's beautiful and loving and further elaborates on characterization and dynamic and just all the good stuff when it comes to making everything real.

anyway, i don't know if any of that made sense. i'm just really passionate about building something that people can look at and feel something. so i'm glad in some way my writing managed to do that because if one person can read my work and think wow, they really did a good job with that, then that's all that matters honestly!

#again thank you #i love you #i appreciate you and your words

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bendingwind · 10 months

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I was thinking about this instead of sleeping last night (yay lifelong insomnia), and I still don't think I'm going to put this story on AO3, but I think tumblr can have this little story about Rangiku as long as y'all suffer through me talking about it first. I don't know if anyone will want to actually read it, but if I'm gonna keep talking about it I ought to make it available to read somewhere 😅

So because it's important, we'll start with the rating and the warnings above the cut, so anybody can avoid this if they want/need to. Please heed the warnings, I am not fucking around with them. Dead Dove Do Not Eat etc.

Rating: Hard Mature Warnings: Underage (at least physically) pregnancy, unplanned pregnancy, extremely unwanted pregnancy, lack of access to healthcare, child abandonment, a brief mention at the beginning of child/infant death, some tokophobia, one mention of potential child harm Pairings: Gin/Rangiku, though Gin isn't really in this story much, and it is primarily a story about Rangiku

This story has been sitting in my brain since I was in my late teens or so, and it's one of my most vivid memories from my first round with the Bleach fandom *mumble mumble* years ago. I had one fic in particular, ✨creatively named✨ Secrets of the Seireitei, which I found in my google drive of saved old Microsoft word docs. It was a series of drabbles I wrote about different characters in the Seireitei, and one idea in particular was repeated across three different stories; this idea I'd had as a teenager that Toushiro was Gin and Rangiku's kid that they'd had to abandon in the Seireitei because of Circumstances.

So I guess it's not surprising that the first thing I chose to write when I decided to start writing Bleach fanfiction again was the core of this particular story. It doesn't fit with canon, doesn't really even make sense with what we know (and I'm not sure it did then) and it's very sad and very dark. Gin and Rangiku are physically probably 14-16 when this story takes place, though because of how time works in the Soul Society they're older by years than that.

Rangiku is one of my favorite Bleach characters. I also fully believe her not only capable of this but likely to do it, especially in her younger years, but your mileage may vary and that's okay!

I think if this story had been possible and if it were real, Rangiku wouldn't have made the connection with Toushiro when he arrived at the Seireitei and assumes her kid is out there somewhere just doing his thing. Gin realizes immediately upon meeting Toushiro (Toushiro's reitsu signature is very distinct and similar to Rangiku's in my mind?) and it's one of the rare occasions he loses his composure because he previously had no idea he even had a kid. Toushiro figures it out much, much later (like, post-canon) after Momo says something that makes him start thinking, but never says a word to anyone about it. ANYWAY. The story:

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

chances & choices

Births are rare in Rukongai. Babies not so much--all sorts of things can go wrong in childbirth and early life in the world of the living, after all--but births? Those are rare. It takes the kind of spiritual energy you usually only see in the clans to conceive at all.

Rangiku is six years old when she dies, and she has spent the majority of her life in the world of the dead, eking a meager living off the streets of the Rukongai. Even once she met Gin, even once they became Gin-and-Ran, too young and too old all at once, times had been lean until Gin had gone and gotten himself made a Shinigami a decade past.

All this to say, Rangiku could hardly be blamed for taking so long to realize what was going on.

****

It starts with more hunger than usual, a ravenous appetite like she’s never experienced before, more than even the money Gin brings on his rare visits can support. She takes up more odd jobs than usual, waitressing in a cafe in the nicer part of District 3, where she lives now, and she manages to make ends meet.

Then there are the dizzy spells that make her spill a tray or five, and lose her the job at the cafe. She’s put on weight, eating so much food, and she thinks she will just have to remember how to be hungry and count on the extra weight to see her through until Gin’s next visit.

She grows weary and listless, loses more than one other job when she’s caught napping when she’s supposed to be working. Still she doesn’t understand what’s happening to her. She thinks that, most likely, she’s finally dying.

Nobody ever explained to a Rukongai brat how babies are made, or what a pregnancy looked like in the world of the dead. No one ever saw the need.

****

If Rangiku ever saw a pregnant woman in life, the memory has faded, and she feels only mild annoyance as she gains weight, as her belly expands and her breasts grow even larger, because really they were a bit much to begin with. She has been eating an awful lot, after all.

Gin visits.

He is just as confused as her.

The day after her visit, the old woman she lives with stops her as she begins to leave for her new job at a fruit stand.

“I thought for sure you would tell him,” Obāsan says.

“Tell him what?” Rangiku asks curiously.

“About the baby,” Obāsan says, with what seems like great patience. “I understand you haven’t wanted to say anything to me before, but I won’t kick you out.”

Confused, Rangiku looks over to where the little girl Obāsan adopted is sleeping. She’s been here even longer than Rangiku had the money to pay for bed and board. She’s not sure why it would change anything, and regardless, she would hardly call Obāsan’s ward a baby.

Obāsan reaches out and places a hand on Rangiku’s arm.

“When you’re ready to talk, Rangiku, I’m ready to listen,” Obāsan says with a pat, and then she turns away.

Rangiku is puzzled all the way to work, and then she’s too busy hustling up customers and counting change to worry about it. The fruit stand is more popular than ever these days--the old man who runs it calls her his lucky charm.

****

“You really ought to at least see a midwife,” Obāsan says at last, and Rangiku looks at her, puzzled by the unfamiliar word.

“What’s a midwife?” she asks.

This time, Obāsan’s gaze is flat and assessing.

“Rangiku… I haven’t wanted to pry, but I am beginning to wonder now… do you even know you’re pregnant?”

The meaning of that word doesn’t register either, not immediately. It’s strange and unfamiliar, alienated from the vocabulary of the Rukongai.

“I’m what,” she says when at least she remembers what it means.

“My goodness,” Obāsan says, clucking gently, but her eyes are a little wide, “what did you think was happening, dear?”

Rangiku’s stomach sloshes nervously, and she feels dizzy.

“I think,” Obāsan says with a deep frown, “that we had better have a discussion, Rangiku.”

****

A baby.

The thought had never even occurred to Rangiku before. Rukongai brats didn’t have babies, they ignored babies lying on the side of the road. The kinder natured ones might offer a simple prayer that someone from one of the better districts was looking for a baby and might stumble across the poor soul.

Obāsan summons a midwife, who inspects the size of Rangiku’s belly and shakes her head.

“I don’t know, really,” she says at last, “I’d say she’s six months or so along, but I don’t really know how these things go over here. I didn’t think people had babies after they died.”

“The nobles do,” Obāsan clucks.

“I thought they just sort of picked the most powerful baby they could find in the districts,” the midwife says, shrugging. “Well, the more you know, I suppose. Do you think that she’ll give birth the same way a living woman would, or is it different?”

“How should I know?” Obāsan asks, a little scandalized.

Not for the first time, Rangiku is afraid.

****

She understands that the little fish in her stomach is the baby, now, moving, and that someday it’ll be born.

It feels like a death sentence.

Babies are a burden, out in the border districts. They eat and they bring nothing in. Obāsan says she’ll be able to feed the baby milk instead of food for a while, but even so--

Gin’s visits are irregular at best. When she comes home from work, exhausted and sore, and senses him at Obāsan’s house, she turns and walks away.

She’s only marginally surprised when he doesn’t follow. Her reiatsu feels different, strange, these days.

****

How will she support a baby, anyway?

They need a lot of attention, according to Obāsan, and Rangiku needs to work to bring in money, especially if she’s going to keep avoiding Gin. Gin is… Gin is Gin. She’s not sure how he would react to a baby.

She’s not sure he wouldn’t simply kill it rather than let it be a burden on her.

She hasn’t been able to work lately. She’s too tired, too dizzy, too big, and anyway it’s the middle of winter. The fruit stand only has a handful of early yuzu for sale.

“I think it will be soon,” the midwife says with a puzzled frown, on one of her visits.

Obāsan clucks.

“Do you think we could find out more about it if we approached one of the noble clans? Surely they know…”

“They’d kick us to the curb,” the midwife says, shaking her head.

****

Rangiku is no closer to a solution when her reiatsu and her belly begin seizing with the contractions Obāsan had warned her would come. She still has no idea what she will do when she pushes a crying baby out of her own young body, sobbing, and the midwife sets him on her ample chest.

****

Obāsan was right. The baby needs a lot. He wakes her constantly at night demanding to be fed, drinks the milk that her breasts have begun to produce, and Obāsan clucks and wonders if it’s normal for spirit babies to feel hunger or not. Obāsan herself has never experienced hunger since her death.

Rangiku doesn’t think it matters much whether it’s normal or not, only that he is hungry. She curls up around him on her futon, strokes his soft head and hums a song to him, one she learned before she died. She doesn’t remember where.

“You look tired, dearest,” Obāsan says one day, frowning at the shadows under Rangiku’s eyes. “I wish your young man would at least come around to help you.”

Rangiku lied, months ago, and said she wrote him a letter. She’s never said anything at all.

****

The baby doesn’t sleep, either. He cries at all hours of the night and wakes Obasan’s ward, who often cries as well, for all that she looks as if she’d been four or five in the world of the living. Rangiku is tired to her bones from the sound of children crying. It makes her want to tear her ears off her head.

Obāsan catches sight of her one of these nights, while she’s trying to soothe the baby back to sleep and Obāsan is comforting the little girl.

“Rangiku, perhaps you ought to go visit a friend for a few days. Get a few nights rest,” she says. Rangiku looks sharply down at where the baby is feeding from her breast.

“I’ll buy some goat's milk down at the market. It’ll be fine for a day or two,” Obāsan says. Rangiku shouldn’t, she thinks, but she does. The girls she stayed with when she was working at a sake bar in District 8 are only too happy to have her visit for a few days.

She sleeps through everything but meals on her visit, instead of going out drinking as they had planned, and her friend Kiku only laughs and waves her hand.

“I still can’t believe you have a baby, Rangiku-chan,” she flutters.

Rangiku wants to know if Kiku would like to trade.

****

She’s never done so much laundry in her life. As beautiful as her baby is, all he seems to be able to do is shit and pee and eat and cry. Gin visits, and Rangiku waylays him outside the house.

“What’s with all those little things?” he asks curiously, eyeing the drying lines.

“Obāsan’s adopted a baby. Let’s go find somewhere quiet,” she lies, and Gin grins wider and agrees.

****

“You really need to name him, dearest,” Obāsan says, one morning in the third month of the baby’s life.

“Hm,” Rangiku says noncommittally. She has never loved anything as much as this tiny soul with his shock of white hair, like his father. She has never been so afraid of anything as this tiny soul with his pretty, wide-open eyes. She has never hated anything quite so much as the thin sound of his wail.

Obāsan sighs, and begins to bustle around the stove.

“Obāsan, I’ve been thinking,” Rangiku says. “Gin will be visiting soon. I’m going to go to the Seireitei with him, and become a Shinigami.”

Obāsan pauses in her movements.

“And your son?” she asks.

“I’ll keep sending you money,” Rangiku says vaguely. She can’t bring herself to ask, not outright, not like this. A chubby hand grabs at the short strands of her golden hair. “Just as soon as I’m through the Academy.”

“Gin won’t send money any more, and he’s a seated officer. Your pay will be less,” Obāsan says cooly.

“I’ll make him,” Rangiku says, “I’ll say I owe back-rent. I’m strong, we both know I am. I’ll be seated soon enough, myself. I’ll… I’ll be a Lieutenant!”

Obāsan scoffs in a way that shows she’s entirely unconvinced.

“Please,” Rangiku says, feeling tears well in her eyes. She grips one of her baby’s chubby hands in her own. “I don’t know how to be a mother. I can’t do this.”

“You’ll have to learn,” Obāsan says, sounding angry now. And then, softer, “I’ll help you, Rangiku-chan, don’t be afraid.”

****

But in the morning, Rangiku is gone.

#z.text #fanfiction #untagged because this doesn't need to breach containment

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driftwork · 1 year

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a tall woman walks - scenes of collision (3)

what is that? what is that? This is pedantic and a little too serious. I will have to adapt my writing if I want to move from the past into the unknown future. I would like to succeed, even if this is impossible. I was thinking how nice it would be to prove to R that its possible to write a long piece, in parts or no parts at all. I was reading sections of his novel over christmas, many small parts in his novel. He says its a novel, whilst I am sitting here reading his almost completed draft and wondering if that is a possible description. I suppose he is writing in a realist or naturalist tradition, how can he write this is in a liner fashion? Not that I have any big stories to tell. Nor am I really trying to describe my uncrisis filled life, perhaps i should just be sitting down at my keyboard and type. Yes, typing, write with finger ends rather than with a pen. This is all its about really, words and fingers touching the keyboard, which produces sentences, and the phrases and sentences are connected into paragraphs. Sometimes at least there are paragraph. It's not scientific or engineering, usually not even grammatical. R says he works with a subject and writes about human emotions, feelings, thoughts, machines and of course more than anything else conflict. Surely all there is is is words, fingers, keys depressed, words. Sorry but my typing has been interrupted by... I'm back but am now having a network problem with the computer which is not attaching to the cloud. It's later but not that later... Anyway the next two or three things belong after this

The woman approaches. This evening she has to work carrying out the list of installation tasks on the project chart. Does she need to be there? she is thinking. She is wearing high heel shoes which are elevating her height until her already long body appears to glide. She carries two bags and a feeling that she should be wearing more utilitarian shoes. In one of her bags she has a pair of running shoes, in the other the usual supporting tools of an office bound manager. Am I a manager these days? She wonders. The occasional touches of instability as she strides along the pavement, remind you that it is hidden behind the passion, devotion and desperation to make it work, that belongs in her role, concealed behind her personal history of work and expression. This feeling possesses artistry, power and the potential for extreme violence. Once she had been shorter, perhaps when she was a reptile, or a bird, or a human, then she had not really known about feelings. In those days she had been pure action, acting on events, reacting to situations, but here she imagines things are different. Attempting to maintain a fidelity to the events. Running, acting, waiting, sitting, fleeing or attacking. Then had come her private ice ages, everything had dropped as they had tried to kill her. She remembered when her world had been considerably warmer, gentler. Her mother and family. The long waves approaching the coast, the pacific coast, the warm waters of the ocean. Krondratiev would be proud she used to think watching the waves striking the coast. People at home pleased to see her. And now, here, well the sea is always cold here, though the land is warmer in winter and it rarely snows here. Still as she walked, listening to the sound of her heels striking the pavement, she wondered what it would like to have her family around her again […]

I watch her weaving through the pedestrian traffic, her unique gait making me want to smile. Her bag occasionally colliding with the legs of some person who gets to close to her. To diverge and yearn for the translation to be complete, this is what feelings are like and are capable of and her, as she walks towards me she is liquid desire. Almost everything else is a matter of combination and difference. My grandparents and great-grandparents back into the nineteenth century were engineers and modellers. Before that, if you go back far enough they were peasant farmers, serfs. Most of my life was in the twentieth century. She though, that woman who is approaching, with her jacket moving as she walks on her high heels. tap tap tap. Her forebears were criminals and bureaucrats in the Asiatic mode of production. Further back still we had shared ancestors who were arboreal climbers, expelled from the trees and forest by the strong and the powerful, fists, biting, screaming, being hit by sticks. Our shared ancestors were not very human. I can see her smiling at the sight of me. There was no Eve and Adam though, only a fuzzy set of indescribable beings we are descended from. And the set of feelings related to variations in heat and cold. No woman was ever created out of Adam's rib. No paradise from which we fell. It was always this terrible. She is negotiating the spaces between the tables. Warm and cold, thirty degrees in the tropical sea. I remember when I arrived sitting down in the bright sunshine. She is late and opens her mouth to say hello, sorry I'm late. I can never forget this, I'll remember this in the chill of the day. I'll remember this until I am beginning to die. I feel warmer as she joins me at the table. Have you finished for the day? I ask her. She shakes her head, no I still have a long list of tasks to carry out before the installation completes. And you? I'm going home after this... We collided long ago...

#collision #fiction #London Story

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chaostheatre · 6 months

Note

I wish Gidsmona was still an active ship but I don’t blame you for not wanting to write about it bc everyone’s just disappeared. Part of it is probably that the Gideon tag is filled with only content about the anime minus a couple posts about being in love with JS. But also there was no interaction between Ramona and Gideon like there was with any of the other exes, so the new fans that haven’t read the comics probably won’t start shipping gidsmona :/ I feel like it’s gone from julie/gideon being the rare pair to Julie/gideon being second (with Matthew and Gideon being shipped way more???) and gidsmona literally fading into obscurity. It’s kinda sad imo. Once again, I don’t blame you for separating or not writing.

I like julie and gideon <3 happy for them

in all honesty it's not so much the anime or the lack of popularity (as if it's ever been a popular ship outside of us 2 or 3 with domestic abuse trauma lol) it's more so that this franchise as a whole has outwelcomed its stay for me. this has been a pretty long fixation (2 odd years?) to begin with and by april or may I was already starting to drag my feet about it. I did stick around longer cause my friends are here and writing gideon is astonishingly easy and fun when I need a warm-up. but overall I have had nooooo interest in rewatching the movie or rereading the books or really anything for a long time.

I also feel like I have a very different relationship with 'shipping' things than most people. I am first and foremost an analyst. gidsmona has always been a case study for me, and sometimes a comfort thing for my ptsd. I'm not really a shipping type of person, especially not canon x canon lol.

and it feels like I've been in this fandom a lot longer than I actually have just by how much of a presence I've had here. I still see my memes floating around on twitter and instagram, my account names mentioned in comment sections, etc etc... so it's like I don't really care about this series but I feel like there's a part of me that's irrevocably tied to it

the anime itself I don't really care about. it is what it is. I'm not being petty by not watching it, I literally just... don't care. I knew that they were gonna do what they did to gideon anyway. plus I hate hate hate people, I am extremely agoraphobic and that includes online, and crowded spaces are not my jive.

maybe in a parallel universe where it released BEFORE glorious masquerade I would've watched it but alas. roro <3 I love you roro. gideon is important and I do credit him with helping me leave my abuser way back when but unfortunately this franchise is NEVER gonna hold a candle to how insanely important disney's hond is to me. that stupid fucking movie drags me back into hell with it every time. I'm gonna kill that fucking mouse.

so anyway I'm still hanging around for fun but this isn't really my place anymore

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spidey-sophie · 3 years

Text

Red Light || Tom Holland Smut

Pairing: Mob!Tom x Stripper!Reader (p.s. If mob!Tom isn’t your thing, you can still read this. It is never explicitly confirmed that he is a mob/criminal. Only implied once/speculated. He can be any kind of millionaire!Tom you want to imagine!)

Summary: Every night there are a variety of customers. But this night is different. As you’re doing your usual dance routine, you notice the hottest guy you’ve seen in a while, and he is looking back at you, his eyes are burning your skin way more than the blaring stage lights. Who is this man and why do you feel this way? It’s almost like you’re doing this dance for him and his eyes only.

Word count: 12.2k

Warnings: drinking, smoking, smut, soft!dom!tom, guided female masturbation, edging/one little orgasm denial, oral (female + male receiving), fingering, spanking, ring kink (is there even such a thing?), multiple orgasms, squirting, slight choking, mirror sex, exhibitionism, cum play + swallowing. She also sucks on his fingers a lot, but it's me, so is that even a surprise? Explicit smut - minors dni.

Notes: This is the longest and dirtiest fic I ever wrote! After a loooong break it is finally here! I had so much fun writing this story and I hope you will enjoy reading it. I feel like I talked to so many people about this fic and I want to thank everyone for supporting me! First of all, thanks to everyone who liked and reached out to me after I sent that ask to @duskholland. I had no intention of writing it, but after all the feedback, I had to do it! Biggest thank you ever goes to miss impulsive gemini aka @sinisterspidey for editing this and beta reading it! You're a boss, chlo! Another big one goes to my bday girl @worldoftom who helped me with editing and HYPED me up to finally post this. Also, lovely @hypnotized-so-mesmerized and @nowayhomeparker for jumping in with a few ideas. I hope you'll enjoy reading it! Please let me know what you think, I am vvvv excited to read your comments!

♡ Ily and happy reading ♡

“Are you nervous?” Your friend and coworker Natalie asks. You’re sitting in front of the large vanity mirror, LED lights showering you with brightness. This is probably your favorite part of the night - putting your makeup on in the right places, transforming into someone else for an evening. But, no matter how much you love doing this, going up on that stage makes your heartbeat rampant. You just smile at her, trying to hide the fact that indeed you are nervous.

“You’re going to be amazing.” She tightens her arms around you, leaving a trace of her glitter on your body. You watch her as she starts removing her wig, humming to the barely audible music from the stage. You’re the newest addition to the current setup, so everyone is being especially nice to you, always asking you if everything’s okay, offering help whenever you need it.

You don’t exactly hate your job.

Sure, it isn’t something that you ever thought you’d do, but here you are, trying to smear the right amount of highlighter over your chest and shoulders. Since backstage was a bit too crowded, you put on your headphones and play the song you’re about to dance to help you relax in the process. After six months, you still get a little nervous before going on that stage. Even though your coworkers often say there’s no reason for it, customers are either too drunk or too thrilled to see you and enjoy your talent. Still, you can’t control your nerves and you need music to stay calm. And sometimes you like to go through the dance routine again before going on stage.

Yes, your dream has always been to be a dancer. You've been showing talent since you were little. Some would say that you first started dancing, and then began walking. However, when you finally started dancing professionally, you never believed that you would do it without clothes. On the pole. In a strip club.

The salary is good. Customers are mostly decent. When, in rare cases, they aren’t, you can always count on the help of the security. You see this job as something temporary, until a better opportunity arises.

The club you work in is extremely popular. The owner made quite a reputation for himself and his club, so people from all parts of London often come to visit the famous “Cherry on Top”. All of the dancers have their own ‘thing’. You’re all shiny, oily, and sexy, and yet every one of you have your own flair. Ruby, who you’re the closest with, is on stage at the moment. She’s best known for her impressive pole skills. You witness her muscular arms holding her entire body on the pole, swinging and swaying. She was the first one who accepted you into the club and offered to give you some tips about pole dancing and flirting with customers.

Once she’s done with her routine, it’s up to you. You watch her collect the money from the floor, thanking the audience and running backstage.

As she passes by you, she whispers, “show them what they came for”, before running off with a wink.

Being the only professionally-trained dancer in the current setup, you made a name for yourself fairly quickly. Everyone already knows that they can expect a great show from you. You don’t only display your body, but also your talent. Or at least that's what you tell yourself. The owner of the club recognized your talent and enthusiasm and made you his main star.

You try to always put on a great show for your audience. Every Thursday night is your night - it’s the night when you do your routine for the first time. And then, you do the same the following Friday and Saturday nights. This time, you picked a rather unconventional outfit for a strip club.

You decide to start dancing wearing a suit. Under your loose-fitted black suit, you’re wearing the tiniest pair of lingerie, with jewels and matching pasties for your breasts. Getting naked in front of an audience was a bit odd at first, but you’re used to it by now. The owner of the club has strict rules and lots of security so you and the girls always feel safe. If someone is causing trouble or tries something that you aren’t comfortable with, all you need to do is to give a quick nod to the security and that guy will be out of the club in the next few seconds.

As you’re finally getting ready to get on the stage, you wink at Tuwaine, the security guy working today. He stands next to the stage, watching carefully over all of the customers, making sure everything is right and stays right throughout the night. You walk slowly up the few stairs until you’re finally on the stage. Just a few seconds ago, Tuwaine set up a chair in the middle of the stage. It’s not unusual for you to use props while dancing, but you’ve been excited for this routine for the entire week. You spot Ruby and Natalie at the bar, giving you thumbs up and cheering for you. They never miss your performances.

The lights are off and once you hear the first beat of the song, you take your place on stage and wait for the lights to come back. You stand in the center of the stage, keeping both hands raised above your head. The chair stands next to you with one of your legs on it, while you stand firmly on the floor with the other.

With the first ray of pink and purple lights you start moving, seductively swaying your hips, but only lightly at first. At the same time, you slowly move your right hand across your left one all the way down to your shoulders.

As soon as the lights are completely on, your movements become more noticeable, stronger and more precise. You drag your right hand over the entire length of the leg that is on the chair. You finally move and strut provocatively behind the chair and caress the back of it with your hands while checking the crowd.

The first piece of clothing you throw away is your hat and you throw it at a table where several young men are, one of them obviously having a bachelor party. You wink at him and turn back to the center of the podium.

You get out of your suit jacket and since your eyes are now finally used to the bright lights you take a moment to look a bit through the crowd. You’re so used to doing this every week, so that you don’t even miss a beat now while exploring the faces of visitors.

Your dancing consists of lots of seductive movements--grinding on the pole, provocative thrusts with your hips, and lots of you touching your body. You want the audience to imagine their hands instead of your own. You love to be in touch with your body, to use your every little move to your advantage. While other dancers usually pick popular hip hop and trap songs, your taste is a bit different. You prefer dancing to softer, slower, more sensual tunes.

There is something about all that attention that you get when you are on stage--being the only thing that the sea of watching eyes is focusing on. Controlling them with your moves. Listening to gasps, moans, and applauses every time you peel off another layer of your clothes. The thought of being their fantasy, the center of their desire, excites you.

The room’s filled with guys, and sometimes girls, too. Every night there are a variety of customers. Businessmen, tech nerds, college boys, bachelorettes, middle-aged men who bring their sons, middle-aged men who want some fun, older guys, younger guys, politicians, celebrities, but also your neighbors. This night isn’t any different.

You recognize some familiar faces, the usual customers who are there almost every night. You nod to Gary, the nice guy who brings you flowers and offers to walk you home every night after you’re done with work. He never tried anything, and he never even paid for a private booth with you. He only brings you flowers and sometimes cards for your birthday or holidays.

Just as you are about to turn around and sit on the chair, you notice the hottest guy you’ve seen in a while. He’s sitting at the table behind Gary’s, while pink, purple, and blue lights illuminate him. And he’s looking at you. Once your eyes finally lock, he gives you the cutest smile. He’s wearing a black suit with a light blue shirt underneath, slightly unbuttoned to put his perfect chest on display. You quickly turn around, trying to hide the smile that he most certainly caused. It is not unusual for you to find someone cute in the audience, but this guy is truly something else. From the moment you saw him your heart started drumming and it’s no longer in sync with music. It’s beating faster, doing it’s own thing.

You slowly take off the lower part of the suit, and the cheering of the customers becomes so loud that it emphasizes the music. You sit on the chair and turn towards them and smile as soon as you make eye contact with any of the customers. But still, your smile is most sincere when it meets his honey-colored eyes. You can't describe exactly what attracts you to him so much and why you can't look away.

Is it because of his beautiful face, piercing eyes, or lips that are twisted into the most seductive smile? Is it because of the fact that he sits so casually, and again so masculine, strong, dominant? He is not sitting alone, and there are a couple of other young men at the table with him, two of them that look so much like him and another blonde sitting closest to him. But none of them radiate the same energy as him.

You have to remind yourself, again and again, that you have to dedicate your attention to other customers and take your eyes off of him. At that moment, you are only in a white shirt, and as you reveal one of your shoulders, you hear more and more sighs from the audience. The bottom of your shirt flares enough for all of them to see your shiny pink thong. The dance floor is already flooded with money, but they keep throwing you some more.

You slowly unbutton one shirt at a time and once again look at the mystery hot guy. As you do this, your hips move to the beat of the music and the speed at which you unbutton follows the rhythm. He can't take his eyes off you, as his eyes follow your hands like a magnet. And that's why you decide to tease him. You slowly move your hands from the already unbuttoned shirt and run them along the inside of your thighs. Spreading your legs apart and running your hands painfully slowly over your heat you can see him licking his lips, eyes glued on you. It’s almost like his eyes are burning your skin way more than the blaring stage lights.

You play with the hem of your underwear, teasing the audience, but more so teasing him. He now has a fist in front of his mouth, squeezing it tight, so tight his knuckles are turning white. As much as this teasing is fun, it is that part of the song when you go up on the pole. You get off of the chair and finally take off your shirt.

As you throw away your shirt, you stand next to the pole taking your position and get ready to hop on it. The men howl at the sight of you clasping both of your legs around the pole and grinding upwards using the strength in your upper arms. Once you get high enough, you unclasp your legs from the pole and start slowly swinging back down, holding yourself with both of your hands.

Quickly, you hook your right leg over the pole and hold it tight with your thigh muscle, releasing both of your hands from the pole, and using all of your strength to keep yourself on the pole with just your leg muscles. It took you some time to master the art of pole dancing. You still considered yourself a beginner, but it was fun. It brought more tips.

And now, it’s time for the big move--you’re supposed to turn upside down, hook your right arm over the pole and do a split. It’s a move you kept practicing with Ruby for the past few weeks and now you finally decide to try it. Turning upside down is easy; the harder part is doing a split from this position. In that moment your eyes wander to the mystery cutie and his eyes haven’t left your body, not even for a second. As your legs start spreading apart, his head is slowly moving forward, he’s totally lost in you, watching you in awe with his mouth slightly open.

Almost perfectly synchronized with your legs, his body leans forward. When you finally do the whole split, you notice an almost proud smile on his face. Who is this man and why do you feel this way? It’s almost like you’re doing this dance only for him and his eyes only.

When you're done with the pole portion of your routine, you slide down, grinding your ass on it. You smirk at all the bills the customers keep throwing at you. You lean your back against a cold, metal pole and start grinding your ass up and down. Almost everyone in the club is cheering for you, but he’s the only one you care about, the only one you’re looking at.

And you’re also the center of his attention. The boys around him are talking but he’s not leaving you out of his sight. He brings one of his hands to his shirt, unbuttoning it a bit more and you notice the rings he has on his fingers. You run your hands up and down your body, while grinding, imagining your hands were his and the pole behind you was his lap.

Your song is almost over, so now it's time for the grand finale. You get up from kneeling next to the pole and strut your way a bit closer to the group of excited men in the front row. You turn around, bend over a bit, and slowly run your hands over your butt cheeks. You move your hands over your hips, waist, all the way to your shoulders. With an innocent expression you turn your head around to face them as you tug your bra strap. And with a faux surprised look on your face you do the same thing with the other strap.

Everyone in the room is howling now, and you finally unclasp your bra and throw it away in the crowd. You can’t help but smile at their reaction. No matter how many nights you do this, that feeling never goes away.

You turn around to face them now, and the first person you look for is the mystery guy. His eyes are now glued to your exposed breasts, only covered by two glitter pasties. He looks up to you and genuinely smiles, with an open mouth, his tongue slightly peeking from the edge of his lips. And then he does the hottest thing you’ve seen in a while--subtly, he tilts his head a bit, and burns through you with his eyes. The right corner of his mouth twitches and moves upwards, forming a devilish smirk. He nods at you, so fast and subtle that if you blinked you would’ve missed it.

You slowly get lower until you are on all fours, face down, ass up, twerking to the sound of beat. You smile to the guys around you, but you can’t help but feel a bit sad because you can no longer see the one you care about the most. Since the song will be over in a couple of seconds, you do another split, this time on the floor, close to your audience. You pick some money from the floor and throw it all over your head.

Slowly, the lights go off and you wait for the stage lights to completely shut down on you and rush backstage, trying not to drop any tips that you collected while dancing. You try to take one last look at the mystery hot guy, but the people around you are standing up, chatting, moving around, or dancing. The little wave of sadness rushes over you and you feel a slight embarrassment in hoping that he’d be waiting for you, cheering for you, or something else.

♡♡♡

After your performance, you quickly change into something more decent and hurry to get out to the bar for a few drinks. Or, to be completely honest, look for the curly haired guy. It’s not like you plan to do anything with him, you just want to look at him a bit more, admire his pretty face and his smile.

Unfortunately, you can’t find him. Your eyes travel from one part of the room to the other, but he is nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, superstar!” You can hear Ruby waving at you and inviting you to join her and Natalie at the bar.

“That was so hot! I got turned on, can’t even imagine how these wankers were feeling,” you hear Natalie from behind and, judging by the way she is hanging around your neck, she’s a bit tipsy.

“Thanks, turning you on was my main intention.” You and Ruby smile at her and order your drink while listening to Natalie gushing about Tuwaine, speaking about how sexy and beautiful he is. She always does this, speaking more to herself, every night after she gets a bit drunk. They have some sort of friends with-benefits, complicated relationship, and you know way too many details about it --way more than you want.

You just roll your eyes at Natalie giving him heart eyes and whisper to Ruby, “Uhm, did you, by any case, notice a ver…”

“OMG, here he comes, I can’t talk to that arsehole right now!” Natalie practically screams near your ear and leaves the two of you confused. Once Tuwaine approaches you, her behavior suddenly becomes clear.

“What was that?” he asks, “Nevermind, Y/N, someone asked for a private booth with you. You have ten minutes to get ready. Don’t kill the messenger.”

“What? Fuck, I told the boss I want to stop doing that.” You aren’t very fond of private booths. It’s one thing to be on stage, distanced from everyone, enjoying yourself and flirting with them while dancing. You don’t even mind occasionally strolling through the audience and making small talk with the customers. But being face-to-face with a customer always makes you nervous. The rules are strict – no touching, no kissing, and absolutely, in no circumstances, any kind of sex. And you’re thankful for those rules. Every booth even has a camera installed, something else you like.

“Yeah, he knows, but this is a very important client and he asked specifically for you.” You’re left confused and drain your drink before you go get ready.

“Who is that client anyways?” You ask while coughing a bit since the shot you just drank was a bit too strong.

“Someone from the Holland family.”

“From what?” You ask, having no idea who they are talking about.

“Oh my God, THE Hollands?” Ruby almost spills her drink all over her once hears the name.

“Who are the Hollands?” You are still clueless, but from the look on Ruby’s eyes, you’re the only one in the room who doesn’t know who the Hollands are.

“I can’t believe you don’t know who they are; they own, like, all of London. No one knows how they got so rich--probably some illegal stuff involved. Dad and four sons. I had no idea they’re here. Oh my God, please be safe, they might be dangerous.”

“I’m a big girl, Ru, I can take care of myself. But thanks. If anything goes wrong, I can count on this guy anytime.” You throw your hand over Tuwaine’s shoulders. You really have a genuine friendship, and whenever it’s his shift, you feel more safe.

“Yeah, yeah, but you better hurry up.”

“I am, I am, thanks T.” The last thing you want right now is to go and dance for some stranger, and especially not for some fishy millionaire. You’re tired and you want to spend some time with your friends and get a couple of drinks. As you walk backstage to change your clothing, you can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed over the fact that just a few minutes ago you were looking for a cute guy who watched you dancing. What were you even thinking could happen? The owner of the club is always very clear - no sleeping with customers, not even after the show. He doesn’t want any allegations or anyone to think that his girls are up for anything other than dancing.

You put a pink wig on your head and pick a baby pink lace thong and a bra with rhinestones on it and rhinestone fringes falling from the bra cups all the way down to your thighs. You add a little lacy garter on your right thigh, and opt for a pair of five inch heels. After one last look in the mirror, you finally feel pleased with the way you look, and start walking towards the area with the private booths. Just as the name `private` says, the area is separate from the rest of the club. The club has six private booths, and almost all of them are always occupied. You nod to the security guy waiting in the hall, and get inside the booth where you’re supposed to be for the next fifteen minutes.

Every booth looks the same--round room with mirrors instead of walls, bordered with leather red furniture. A mini round white dance floor with a pole is located in the middle of the room, and it’s surrounded by the red couch. The lights are dimmed, and red, black and white colors dominate the room.

At first, you can’t see the face of the guy sitting in the center of the room. You can only trace the silhouette of his spread legs. The first thing you notice is his hands, holding the glass of whiskey. There are rings on his fingers and you’re sure you’ve seen them already. Once you’re close enough and you can clearly see his face, you recognize him right away. It takes you a lot to hide your smile, but you probably didn’t do a good job hiding since the first words he tells you are.

“Were you expecting someone else?” His voice sounds even hotter than you could ever imagine, mixed with soft R&B music that is pulsating lightly in the background.

“No one other than you, baby boy.” This is a line you used a lot before, but for the first time in a while you’re actually thinking it. He chuckles at your remark, still wearing that cocky smirk on his face.

You can’t believe that you’re face to face with him now. And that you’re about to dance for his eyes only. You get up on the dance floor and now you’re standing above him. Just looking down at him turns you on so much. You start swaying your hips to the beat, not breaking eye contact with him. He brings his cigar next to his mouth and your eyes are following his every move. The way his jawline tenses while he inhales the smoke drives you crazy.

“How long have you been working here?” he asks, smoke coming out of his mouth and his voice sounding a bit raspier thanks to it.

“Six months.” Usually, you don’t answer personal questions, but there's something about him that makes you open up to him. It’s not just his looks. It’s the way he is sitting, looking, and talking to you. It makes you a bit nervous, vulnerable, but also excited.

“I used to come here more often, can’t believe I never saw you before.”

“Well, you’re seeing a lot of me now,” you wink and turn around. He can now watch your barely covered ass, but you can still see his face on the mirrors around you. And his eyes follow your every move like he’s hypnotized.

“What are the rules now? I haven’t been here in a while.”

“No touching, no kissing, no fucking. Just watching.” You say, as you slowly sway around the pole.

“You can undress, right?” He asks, his eyes lingering on you.

“Yes. Do you want me to?” You grab one of your bra straps, and pray he’ll say yes.

“Not yet. Can I ask you something while you dance?”

“Yes.”

“Will you be honest?” You start moving up and down the pole, now facing him and your back pressed to the pole.

“Anything for you, baby boy,” you wink at him and try to seem as calm and collected as possible. Everything inside you is burning now, palms sweating and legs shaking. You still cannot believe you’re one-on-one with the most beautiful guy you ever saw. And by the glint behind his honey eyes, he is just as infatuated with you. You can feel yourself getting turned on from dancing and from him.

He sits comfortably on the huge bed. His legs are spread, and between them his hand holds a glass of whiskey. You watch the way he brings it up to his mouth, the way his lips spread and the peek of his light pink, wet tongue. You can't help but imagine how much better his tongue would feel on your ass, instead of this cold metal.

“What’s your name?” he finally asks, once he gulps one big sip of whiskey, not even a little twitch in his eyes after swallowing the bitter beverage.

“Oh straight for the hard questions. My name is Destiny,” you smile and he smiles back. It catches you a little bit off guard how much his face softens once he smiles.

“Okay, let’s try this again. Hi, my name is Tom, what’s your name?”

“Hi Tom, my name is Cherry,” you get on all of your fours now, crawling towards him. You stop once you get to the edge of the dance floor, waiting for his next move. Tom lifts up from his seat and leans closer to you, now only inches apart from your face. All of your senses immediately focus on his perfume. He smells sharp, warm and sexy, like vanilla mixed with cigarettes. Not breaking eye contact with you, he reaches for his back pocket, takes a bill and rolls it.

“How about now?” he asks and brings the rolled bill next to your face. Since you’re still on your fours, the only way you can get your tip is if you take it with your mouth. Slowly, you open your mouth and take the bill from his hands. While you do that, you gaze into his eyes and notice the way they get darker, more lustful as you remove the money from his fingers with your teeth.

In a split second it almost seems like he starts leaning forward, like he wants to kiss you, but you quickly hop on your knees and stand up.

“Harmony,” you say as you pull the bill out of your mouth and hook it under the thong, “or Doll, or Spice, or…”

“Fine, fine, I get it.” He says, now sitting back like he used to. “I’m sorry if I crossed any lines, I just can’t wrap my mind around the fact that I’ve never seen you before.”

“Thank you, Tom. This might be your lucky night.” You try to tease him, but you’re still thinking about how sweet he seemed as he apologised. For a supposed extremely wealthy criminal millionaire, he is way too kind. And that turns you on even more.

You wrap your hands around the pole and start swinging, performing your usual routine. And for a few minutes he just sits there and watches you. For the entire time you’ve been in the booth with him, he always had his full attention on you. Tom watches your every curve, every move, every gesture. You reach to remove your bra, and with a slight nod, he gives you the approval to do so.

Once again you’re naked in front of him, his eyes leave yours and your nipples become the center of their attention. They’re so hard for him that it almost hurts. He can now clearly see how turned on he’s got you, and a smirk lingers on his face.

You tease him a bit more and run your hands over your breasts, fingers gently caressing your nipples and slightly pinching them. Tom shakes his head and whispers something to himself. The music is a bit too loud for you to decipher; the only word you can hear is “fuck”. Which, coincidentally, is exactly what you want him to do to you right now. He takes one big smoke of his cigar and runs his long fingers over his thighs, silver and gold rings shining under the low lights. The pants he wears are so tight that you can see the way every muscle on his leg flexes to the rhythm of your dancing.

Your hands travel down to your thigh and just as you grab the garter, you hear him say, “Leave that on.” And you do as he tells you.

“Do you like working here?” he asks and now you sit on the edge of the dancefloor. You spread your legs a bit, just to tease him. You’re still positioned slightly higher than him, so that his face is now on the same level as your core.

“Yes. Do you like doing whatever you do?” You decide to play his game. No matter how much your friends warned you about him, somehow you feel safe enough to ask him that.

“Actually, no. My turn now, have you ever desired a customer?”

“Yes.” And you spread your legs a bit wider as you tell him that.

“Am I one of those customers?” Tom is once again too close to you, looking up at you with a devilish smile.

“You really want to know that?”

“I’m dying to know that,” and the smirk is now gone, he is playfully smiling at you, lighting the entire room as he does that.

“And why would you like to know that, huh? Does the thought of me getting wetter and wetter and touching myself while thinking about you turn you on?”

“What if I tell you that it does?” He leans so close to you, you can almost feel his breath on your inner thighs.

“In that case, my answer is maybe, but maybe not.” You enjoy playing this game with him way too much. And you are fully aware how dangerous everything is, but you just can’t stop flirting with him. The thought of him being turned on by you, the way he moves his hands over his legs, adjusting his shirt, the way his chain moves up and down as he is breathing, everything exhilarates you. You never behave like this with other customers. There was something about Tom, some magnetic force that keeps pulling you to him, from the moment you first saw him.

You can’t decide if it is his smile, his hands, his chest or the way his fingers kept holding and playing with the cigar, drawing all of your attention to them. Or maybe it’s about his innocent eyes and the fact that they are so contrary to his wicked smirk and sinful words coming out of those pretty pink lips.

You are in trouble, you can tell right away, but you love it.

“Can you do one thing for me?” he asks, finally breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Of course.”

“Can you do one of those splits like you did on the stage?” He asks so innocently, yet so demanding.

“Yes,” you say and you spread your legs wide, sitting on the edge of the improvised dance floor waiting for his next move. He takes one big gulp of his whiskey, a little drop coming down on his chin and dripping on his bare chest. He doesn’t even bother to wipe it off, just licks the excess from his lips with his wide, pink, skilled tongue. You can't stop looking at that wet spot on his chest, traveling down to the unbuttoned area of his chest. At one point you even feel a bit jealous of that drop, since it can explore his body the way you never could.

“Show me.” Tom doesn’t have to tell you what he wants to see. It feels like you can read his body language perfectly. You do what you’re told. You grab your panties and pull them slightly to the side, exposing yourself completely in front of him. It’s surprising, even to you how wet you actually are. This never happens to you, so you can’t help but smile to yourself. As you move your panties to the side, you lightly brush your clit with your fingertips and your legs twitch. You let out a soft moan but quickly manage to keep your cool.

You are dying for him to touch you, to do anything to you, but you know damn well it’sagainst the rules. You can’t even bring him home after work, because that can put a bad reputation on the club and the last thing you want right now is to lose your job.

“You have no idea how much I want to taste you.” he mutters. The thought of him tasting you brings shivers to your spine.

“Unfortunately, if you do that I might call security.”

“And what if you don’t?” Tom answers almost mechanically, not even fully listening to you, his eyes completely lost in your pulsating cunt.

“See this little red dot on the ceiling,” you say and finally pull your panties back in their place, covering yourself. He looks up, “That’s a camera over there. So if you lay even one finger on me, the security will come bursting in here.”

“I think that is the last thing we both want, right pretty girl?”

“So you better behave yourself, Mr. Holland.” Tom raises his eyebrow the moment he hears his last name coming out of your lips. In that moment you realize that he never actually told you his full name. You felt your heart drumming a little bit faster in your chest. You’re wondering if you crossed any lines with your last sentence.

“Don’t you think that it’s quite unfair how you know my full name and yet I know nothing about you?” He teases, while adjusting and rolling up his sleeves a little bit. You feel an instant wave of relief mixed with joy.

“I can’t give you my name, but I can give you a lap dance instead.” You offer, daring him with your eyes to say yes.

“Only if you want to,” and you do. You can’t even begin to explain how much you want to grind on him, feel him under you, tease him, play with him and drive him crazy. You don’t tell him anything, you just stand up and start walking towards him.

You turn around and steadily start winding your hips and getting lower, until you can feel his thighs on your heat. The only thing you’re wearing right now is a tiny pink thong, which is more than revealing. He can see everything and you decide to use that in your advantage.

You keep switching your moves, swaying to the rhythm, leaning forward so that he could see your entire behind. Fortunately for you the room has mirrored walls so you can see his face for the entire time, even now, when you’re not facing him. He is leaning back on the bed, his eyes completely lost in your body, observing your every move. Whenever you lean forward and reveal more of your ass, you feel his thigh twitch and flex under you. And oh, does that feel good. You’re trying really hard to grind on his thigh and to do that subtly. You’re desperately trying to get some friction, some release and motion.

It’s undeniable that you’re turned on right now. You don’t even care that he can obviously tell that as well, since you can feel the wet traces you’re leaving on his thigh. The music is quietly murmuring through the speakers as you move your body perfectly in sync with the beat. Suddenly you feel something cold, a strange, sharp object running up and down your spine. At first you think it must be your nerves, but once you feel it again, you turn around to face him.

“You know I said no touching?”

“I am not touching you, gorgeous,” Tom says and he brings his hands forward, right above your thighs. He brings the back of his hands so close to both of your thighs but his skin is not touching yours. There isn’t any skin to skin contact, the only thing touching you are his large rings. And he runs his hands like that all over your inner thighs, the cold metal making your skin melt. You feel goosebumps as you watch his hands in awe. His fingers are long, bony with a few tiny veins popping on them. As he moves you manage to notice his bruised knuckles and those make his hands looking even more captivating.

“Are those for me?” He asks and you twitch a little, you didn’t expect him to talk, you got so lost in your thoughts about his fingers on you. Inside of you.

“Sorry, what?” You ask and finally turn your whole body, straddling him completely with just a few inches between your faces.

“The wet traces you left all over my thighs? Are those for me?”

“Yes,” you say as you watch a proud grim appearing on his face. It is too late to pull back now, even though you have no idea what he’ll do next.

He keeps his hands next to his body but you can see the way his biceps is tensing through his thin shirt. He wants to touch you just as much as you want him to do so.

“Also, about that question you have been dying to know the answer…” you say and notice the way he furrows his eyebrows while waiting for what you have to say next, “the answer is yes.”

His eyes are now completely lost on your lips. He swipes his tongue over his pink, chapped lips and leans in. Instinctively you lean forward as well. You feel his nose brushing over yours and you close your eyes, completely forgetting where you are and that you are in a club and that he is just a customer. You pull back a little once you’re aware of that and hear him whisper on your lips. “Wait here one second for me, okay?”

You nod and stand up so that he can move. He furiously storms out of the booth, not even turning back, and you have a sinking feeling in your stomach. Did you do something wrong? Nervously waiting for him or for anyone to come back, you start walking from one corner of the room to the other.

After what feels like forever, you grab your bra and start to untangle the little jewels and beads. Maybe you’re a fool for trusting him and revealing way too much, but you decide to get dressed and look for him. Just as you finally untangle the last bead, you can hear someone walking inside the booth.

“Hey, I was just about to…” and you can’t even finish your sentence, as he interrupts you with his lips. Crashing them into yours, finally.

You never experienced a first kiss like this. He isn’t going slow or taking his time. He presses his lips hard on yours, not wasting any second now. Almost instantly he flicks his tongue over your lips and you part them, letting him in. The moment his tongue touches yours you can taste the alcohol mixed with mint. His tongue feels soft and warm as it eagerly glides over yours.

You’re so focused on his tongue and his lips that you haven’t even noticed that his hands are now all over your exposed back. His hands are cold, almost as cold as those rings felt on your skin. It’s such a sharp contrast between his warm tongue and his cold hands. As they trail down to your ass and squeeze it lightly you moan into his mouth. It’s almost like the sound of that moan was your call back to sanity and you pull away from him immediately.

“We can’t, I might lose my job, the owner will be so mad at me,” you blurt this all out while trying to catch your breath.

“I’m sure he won’t mind.” Tom says and you blink at him, still not fully understanding what he’s trying to tell you. You open your mouth, trying to come up with the next question and he gives you the answer before you can even ask him. “You work for me now, I just bought the club.” He doesn’t even flinch when he tells you that. You smile at first, thinking that he must be joking but the more you stare at his dead serious face the more you are convinced that he actually did buy the entire club because of you. Just for you.

“Fuck…” is the only thing you can say before you crash your lips onto his now. You can finally touch him and you do that carefully, dragging your palms over his jawline and delicately placing your fingers onto his soft hair. His hair feels so soft under your touch, almost as soft as his tongue. You still cannot believe that you’re kissing the hot guy who you were eye-fucking with just an hour ago, so you open your eyes just to make sure that this is all real. And it’s almost like he felt what you did, so he opens his eyes, too. You smile at this and break the kiss.

“What?” Tom asks, stealing a little peck while he waits for your answer.

“Nothing,” you smile, running your hands up and down his while he is holding you by your waist.

“You want this, right?”

“Yes,” you put your lips on his and moan into his mouth and bite his bottom lip. As you start kissing him again, your hands travel down to his shirt. Without breaking the kiss your fingers start working quickly to remove his shirt. Once he’s out of his shirt you can see the way his chiseled abs are moving up and down as he is breathing. You trace your finger over his chest all the way down to his abs and he leaves a small moan into your mouth.

As he breaks the kiss, he throws his shirt on the floor and starts sucking on your neck, leaving cold wet traces underneath your ear. He has no problems finding your sweet spot and sucking on it even harder. There will most definitely be a mark, but at this point, you don’t even care.

Your hands move to his zipper, but he stops you.

“Turn around, take off your panties and bend over while you’re doing it.” He tells you sternly, and you just nod in response.

You turn around and grab the waistband of your panties and start pulling them down slowly, revealing more and more of you. They’re soaked with your wetness, and as cold air hits you down there you start clenching at nothing. You take one look at Tom and throw your panties at him. You want to catch him off guard, but he somehow manages to catch them. He doesn’t even look at them, just quickly puts them in his pocket.

“I want you to touch yourself, just like you would later while thinking about me.”

“And what makes you think I’d do that?” You turn around to face him and chuckle.

“I saw the way you were looking at me while you were dancing over there, princess. Also, I have this as proof,” and he points to his pocket, where he put your panties.

You spread your legs and lay on the dance floor. Taking your time, you move one of your hands slowly over your breasts. You try to maintain eye contact with him while running your fingers up and down your stomach. Almost involuntarily you start clenching and you can feel your belly tensing under your fingers. Tom looks so hot, sitting down, taking one more sip of whiskey, shirtless, the only thing he has on his upper body being his silver chain. You were naked in front of him for the majority of this evening and yet he is once again too lost in you. If you thought you had him wrapped around your fingers while you were dancing, you were wrong. Now it almost feels like you’re hypnotizing him with his movements. You can swear he even stopped breathing, waiting for you to finally start touching yourself down there.

You take a lot of time to finally get your fingertips where he wants them. You can’t help but look over at his chest, his glowy skin as you’re running your fingers over your own. Still, you’re not touching yourself, you’re just running fingers over your folds, slightly spreading them so he can have the better view of you entirely. You’re so turned on that even this slight movement gets your fingers moist.

“Rub your perfect clit for me, princess,” he says, now propped up on his elbows, eyes dark and focused.

Slowly, you start rubbing small circles over your swollen bud. From the moment you touch your over sensitive clit you start moaning. There is no way you can stand propped on your elbow now, so you lay back down and break eye contact with him for the first time that night. Yet, now you can focus more on his voice and his silent moans, mixed with your louder ones.

You don’t want to go too fast, because then all of this will be over too soon. You tease your entrance with your index finger, just a little bit to collect your wetness and spread it over your clit, making your movements even easier. This feels so good and you don’t want to stop. You can’t slow down now, you’re too close to the edge.

“Slower, I don’t want you to cum like this.” You lift your head up to look at him. He is palming his cock through his tight pants, clearly very impatient and yet he decides to tease and torture both of you.

And you run your fingers over your clit gently and slowly. Yes, this feels good but you want his hands instead of yours. Those slim, lean and bony fingers, you want them on you, rubbing and fucking you.

It is so hard to keep yourself calm and away from cuming. If you open your eyes you’ll see him, shirtless, with the exasperated look on his face and his chest flexing with every small breath he takes. If you close your eyes, you’ll imagine his fingers, those rings and bruised knuckles buried deep inside of you, rubbing you instead of your own.

“Put two fingers inside,” and you do as he tells you. Your fingers go inside with such ease. As you start moving them inside, the sound of wetness echoes the room. Almost instantly, your hips start bulking up, trying to squeeze your fingers even deeper. You’re hitting just the right spot and start shaking, your movements becoming sloppier and faster.

“Are you close?” he asks.

“Fuck...yes.” You can barely answer, your words mixed with moans.

“Then stop.” It takes you a lot of willpower to stop, now that you’re so close to reaching that high. But you listen to him. You are so sensitive and close to your orgasm that it takes you a few seconds to calm down and stop shaking. Eventually, you get up on your elbows, with your legs still spread and hanging down from the edge of the dance floor.

After what seems like a century, he finally stands up and comes closer to you. Tom is smiling and bringing the glass with what’s left of his whiskey in his hand. You watch his every move and breathe fast, still trying to calm yourself down from that previous edge. He walks towards you and comes near the edge of the dance floor, between your legs.

“Open your mouth,” he asks, now standing above you. You look up at Tom and do what he tells you. You watch him as he brings his glass over your mouth and starts pouring some whiskey down on you. It tastes so bitter and warm since the ice already melted a long time ago. As much as you try to catch the most of the strong beverage with your tongue, a few drops start leaking down your chin all the way to your breasts. You gulp it down, wincing as it burns on your tongue and down your throat. He chuckles at your reaction and slowly pushes you down on your back again.

Tom puts the glass next to you and starts kissing down your neck until he reaches your niple, covered with whiskey. He sucks on it, licking it clean. It feels so good, the way his warm tongue traces over your nipples. You’re squirming and moaning under his mouth and nothing but a few “oh my gods” and moans escapes your lips. Tom’s skilled fingers are playing with your other nipple while he is still licking your other one, making sure to lick all of the whiskey off of it.

He takes his time on your nipples. As much as you enjoy him there, you’re burning with desire and want him to help you ease some of the tension that has been building ever since you first laid your eyes on him. Your blood pulsates in every direction, leaving you dizzy, heart beating, breathing heavy and melting under his tongue, teeth and lips on your nipples.

Finally, it feels like Tom decided to end this sweet torture and starts moving lower and lower on you. Without any intention you start buckling your hips when you feel his warm lips glading over your belly.

“Someone’s impatient,” Tom smiles and lifts his head up. He leaves one peck on your pubic bone and completely ignores that area. That sweet place that is yearning for him so much. Instead of kissing, licking or doing anything to your swollen bud, he moves to your inner thighs. Tom leaves plenty of kisses on them, biting and marking your skin, making you his. He is breathing heavily, but his breathing can’t even match yours. Your fingers are now entangled in his curls, guiding him as he keeps sucking on your thighs. He starts moving lower and lower until your hands can’t no longer reach him.

Once you open your eyes, you prop yourself on your elbows. You watch him leaving open mouth kisses on your inner thighs and once he reaches your lacy garter he puts it between his teeth. Slowly, he begins pulling it all the way down your leg, his hot breath making your skin shiver.

“Aren’t we supposed to be married first?” you ask him once he has you undressed completely. Tom chuckles and brings himself near to your face.

“Don’t you know that I always try to bend the rules?” you moan into his lips and he kisses you. “But, if a lady insists, I can give you one of this,” he lifts his hand up and puts it between the two of you. “I saw the way you were looking at them, you can have one.”

After giving him an ‘are you sure’ look you decide to take it. And since you’re propped on your elbows, the only way you can take the ring for yourself is if you do it with your mouth. Which is exactly what you do. You open your mouth and put his entire index finger inside while not breaking eye contact with him. You look up at Tom, with the most innocent look you could muster. He is not saying anything to you. The only thing he can do is mouth an inaudible ‘oh’ while shaking his head in disbelief.

You wrap your lips around the base of his finger tight until you hook the cold metal ring between them. His fingers are so long, they almost make you gag. You close your eyes while you suck on his finger, pulling out the ring, sliding it over each of his knuckles. You can’t help but imagine that instead of his finger you’re sucking something else. Something bigger. You start moaning and sucking a bit harder. With a wet plop you pull the ring out and open your mouth. You put your tongue out, showing your conquest to him.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Tom says while he watches you hold the ring between both rows of your teeth and lift a hand towards your face. You study his ravenous face while you push each of your fingers through the loop, testing them out and looking for the one that perfectly fits

Finally, he kneels until his face is at the same level as your core. You spread your legs a bit more to give him easier access to your warm core. He licks one long strap, from your clit all the way down your entrance. You can feel him smirking once he feels how wet he got you and he hasn’t even touched you down there yet.

“You taste even better than I imagined,” the vibrations as he talks that close to your clit make you shiver. Tom starts moving his tongue against your clit, flicking it so slowly and lightly, but you are already so worked up, you start jerking your hips almost immediately. He takes his time, licking long straps at first, not putting any pressure on your bud.

Both of you moan as he starts lapping your clit with his tongue, slowly and steadily. Being too sensitive from the previous edge, you can barely hold yourself up on your elbows. He keeps licking your inner lips and occasionally slipping his tongue inside of you, fucking you with his mouth. He seems to know what he’s doing, teasing you even more like this. As soon as you start buckling your hips up, he moves his tongue from your pulsating clit to your entrance. Your moans keep getting louder every time he comes back and once again focuses on your clit.

“Will you please let me cum?” Your voice trembles with anticipation.

“Since you’re asking that nicely,” Tom smiles and kisses your lower back before going back to your heat. You’re still not used to how much his face softens when he smiles. But it’s the dark spark in his eyes that turns you on and makes your heart race even faster. It feels like he’s unravelling you with his tongue.

He flicks his tongue over your clit a few more times, before beginning to suck on it. As he does that, you roll your eyes and start breathing even harder. And it’s almost like he knows exactly what to do to you and where to pay more attention. He tries to hold you in place with one of his hands, while keeping your legs apart with others.

You can feel your heat building in the base of your stomach, pulsating. Warmth moves all over your body, coursing through your bloodstream. Tom starts sucking harsher on your clit, pulling it between his lips. His face looks like a wet mess right now, spit and your wetness leaking down on his chin.

“Please don’t stop doing that,” is the only thing you can say before you start falling apart under his mouth. Your hips ride the way his tongue flicks over your clit. You grab his hair with both of your hands and glide over his wet tongue, stimulating your oversensitive pussy, moaning and heavy breathing. It almost feels like a dream, this intensity of the pleasure that came over your body. Tom has to hold your stomach, just to keep you in place so you won’t ruin not even one second of this ecstasy.

Tom helps you ride your orgasm to it’s last drop by keeping his strong, muscly tongue in place, letting you control the rhythm and ride it the way it works best for you. Curses and his name are the only things coming out of your mouth as you come down from your high. Finally, his lips leave your sweetest place and he starts kissing your stomach, nipples, all the way up to your neck. Once he reaches your lips he kisses you hard, teasing you and opening them with his tongue. Instead of kissing you back, he pulls away and whispers over your lips.

“Now get on all fours,” and you do as you're told, with your face down and ass up in the air, facing him. Even though you have your back turned on him, you can still see him if you look at any of the mirrors around you.

He runs his hands over your butt cheeks and playfully smacks your right cheek.

“Is this okay for you?” you nod.

“Can I go a bit harder?” Tom asks while looking at you through the mirror. You nod once again. “I need your words for this, love.”

“Yes.” And as soon as you say that you feel a slight tingling on your cheek as he has finally smacked you. Not too rough, but hard enough for you to quiver. Unexpectedly, this turns you on a lot more than you ever imagined.

“Should I stop, was this too hard?” he asks, with a genuine worry in his voice, soothing the skin where he slapped you.

“Please don’t,” you moan and feel his hand on your cheek again, slightly harder this time. It tingles, the warmth spreading from your cheek all over your lower back. He soothes your skin one more time with his fingertips. So delicately and gently. And it’s almost like those few slaps heightened your already sensitive skin and you can now feel his every movement. As he caresses your cheeks, his fingers tenderly nudge your wet entrance.

You expect his next move, already prepared for the burning sensation but you don’t feel his hands on your ass anymore, “You sure about this?”, he asks and you look up at him in the mirror and see Tom holding a condom in his hands.

“Yes,” you moan and in that exact second you can hear him ripping the condom and positioning himself from behind. You instinctively spread your legs for him, waiting for him to enter you. Tom places one of his hands on your waist, digging his fingertips into your skin. He is moving his dick over your folds, getting him nice and wet before sliding it into you. With every little move that he makes you can feel your belly and thighs clenching.

Only a few more strokes after and Tom gently starts stretching you out with his member. It takes a few seconds for you to get used to his girth and with a loud gasp you let him know that he can start moving now. And once he starts moving it feels so good, so exciting and pleasurable. It feels so fulfilling to finally feel him inside.

Tom takes no time before he is already balls deep inside of you. With every thrust he leaves a deep groan filled with pleasure. One of his hands is still on your hips and you can feel him slightly pushing you upwards, all the way up to his chest, still not pulling out of you. The first thing you feel once your back hits his perfectly toned chest is the way his cold chain is bouncing, caressing and sliding over your warm skin. It is almost embarrassing how turned on you are by him and everything he does. So much that even the way he wears his chain makes you so aroused.

“I want you to watch how beautiful you look while I’m so deep inside of you,” Tom whispers into your ear and as much as you enjoy having your eyes closed, you manage to open them up and see his hand wrapped around your breasts while the other one is trailing down your stomach, his lengthy fingers reaching for your clit.

Thanks to the way the mirrors are hung on every wall in the booth, you can see his movements from every angle. The way every single one of his muscles is flexing, his hips swaying once he is bottoming in and out of you. Once his fingers reach down your pulsating core and starts rubbing the pleasure becomes almost unbearable to you. You reach for his hands to get more stability and start trembling in front of him. The only thing you can see right now is the smug on his face as his merciless fingers and thrusts are making you cum so hard on him. With the loud moan you reach your high and ride it, his fingers finally slowing down but never completely stopping.

“Fuck, gorgeous, you look like an angel,” Tom says and starts leaving warm and wet kisses on your neck and ear, still holding you tight. After a few long and slow thrusts he picks up his rhythm again, that ruthless and fast rhythm that gets you on the edge of another orgasm in no time. After a few thrusts he starts rubbing your clit once again, pressing that lovely spot of pleasure both from the inside and outside.

The wave of pleasure comes even faster now, leaving you no time to adjust or open your eyes and focus on him. His hot breath is all over your shoulder and once you hear his voice, moaning into your ear you can’t help but let go, moaning and thrusting towards his arm this time even harder.

“Tom, please don’t stop,” you moan a desperate cry for more, for another release, another round of pleasure. He picks up his pace and you can feel your legs trembling involuntarily next to his. The familiar surge of another orgasm makes your moans and breathing erratic. Once it finally hits you, you leave a high pitched cry and Tom pushes you down, stopping his movements, just holding you in place.

“Fuck baby, if I start moving now, I’ll cum as well,” he is not thrusting, the only movement you can now feel is his dickf throbbing while still deep inside of you. You open your eyes and look at him in the mirror. Your eyes instantly lock with his. You can see the way he smiles at you while there are a few drops of sweat traveling between his chest.

“Cum in my mouth,” as much as you want to keep him inside of you, you also want to taste him. He pulls out of you and you immediately feel so empty while cool air brushes over your folds. Tom stands up and removes his condom while you turn around and starts licking his shaft up and down. You start sucking on it, taking it in as much as you can. Tom puts his hands on your head, but he is not forcing you towards him. He is removing the strands from your pink wig off of your face.

You open your eyes and look up at his face, his eyes shut down and curse words coming out of his pretty pink lips. As you look in the mirror behind him, you can see the way his ass cheeks are tensing, gently fucking your mouth. That sight excites you so much. If you thought you were done after your third orgasm, you were wrong, cause you can feel the familiar pulsating feeling deep down inside of you. You reach down and start lightly pressing on your clit, not going too fast cause you don’t want to lose focus and mess with the way you’re pleasuring him.

“I’m cumming,” Tom says as warm, sharp and salty liquid fills your mouth. You keep moving your head up and down, guiding him through his pleasure. Not stopping until he backs away, trembling from pleasure. Your mouth suddenly feels so empty, even though there are still traces of him there. You tried to gulp it all down, but the thickness and saltines of his cum and the way he pulled out of your mouth so abruptly makes you spit a few drops on your chin and chest.

"Sorry…" Tom breathes out as he tries to calm down from his orgasm.

"No, no, it's okay…" your fingers travel down your chest to pick up a few drops of cum sliding down. Your other hand is still down there, pressing your clit and drawing out the heat you felt just a few moments while you were sucking him off.

"Wait, I'll help," Tom kneels down in front of you and picks up the traces of him from your chest. He looks around, "I need to find a tissue to wipe my fingers off," but you grab him by the hand and guide it towards your mouth. You start licking his fingers clean and his face quickly turns from surprised to turned on. He makes sure you lick them all, pushing them deeper and deeper into your mouth, until a few tears form in your eyes. It is only then that he finally notices that you've been teasing and dragging your fingers over your entrance the entire time.

"I fucked you so hard and you still want more, princess? You are insatiable." He quickly pulls his hand out of your mouth and you release a disappointed grunt. But it doesn't last long, because he slides two of his already wet fingers into your pussy.

"Yes…" you moan as he starts picking up the pace. But Tom doesn't go fast this time. He keeps teasing you, pushing his fingers slowly, so deep inside of you and then pulling them in to rub your clit for a few glorious seconds. He repeats this motion way too many times for you to keep up. It’s almost like you’re floating.

You are overstimulated, all of your senses focus on the pleasure he keeps giving you with his fingers. It isn't until he speeds up and starts fingering you that you finally start letting go and giving up to him completely. Tom tries to keep you in place, but your legs are trembling and you are not sure how much longer it'll be for your knees to give up.

"Is this okay?" Tom asks as you feel his long fingers gently wrapping around your neck. You nod and moan, not being able to produce any coherent word. Not quite sure is it his delightful movements on your g-spot, his voice or the way his other hand keeps pressing on the sweet spot on your neck, but in almost no time you can feel the oh-so-familiar feeling finally building up enough to explode.

It’s like you’re in slow motion, the only thing you can feel are his fingers pressing the right spot at the right speed. A loud low growl escapes your lips as you ride the most joyous orgasm you ever felt. Wetness is dripping out of you, all over the floor and him. He kisses you breathlessly, like he never wants to let go of you. You're sure he can still taste himself on your lips, but he doesn't seem to mind. Tom looks so hungry for you, cupping your face with that same hand that was on your neck just a few moments ago. Once he stops, he mumbles a little "fuck", his forehead resting on yours.

"Let me help you clean up," you can barely speak, your voice still shaking.

"Of course not, darling, wait for me 'till I get you some towels," Tom hands you your panties from his pocket once he finally pulls his pants up. He doesn't even bother to properly button up his shirt, he just throws it over his shoulders, having his toned chest and that silver chain on display. You can't help but smile once you're on your own. You have no idea what you have gotten yourself into, but you're more than excited to try it out.

Once he gets back, he immediately starts cleaning your wetness from your thighs, going thoroughly over your skin.

"It's Y/N by the way."

"It feels like we’re doing this backwards, but it’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N." Tom lifts his head up and gives you a disarming smile.

"I figured, since you're my boss now, it's only fair that you'd know my name, y'know, to sign my paychecks and stuff like that…" you can feel the butterflies forming in your belly and there was no turning back now.

"I know they say that the boss shouldn't have any favorites, but I think I already have one."

"I just hope you won't change your mind once you meet the others," you lift your head up and your bliss gets interrupted once you see one little dot blinking. The red light you completely forgot about. That's when you feel a sudden change in your heartbeat. "Tom, there is a camera up there!"

"So..? I mean is that a problem?"

"Well, if there was anyone in the back office, they could've seen us!"

"I'm sure we gave them one hell of a show," you can't help but feel relieved. The way he handles things that could be a problem somehow makes you feel more attracted to him. You smirk and he starts leaving soft kisses on your inner thighs, "speaking of, wanna give them another one?"

"Right now?" You laugh and playfully mess with his curls, completely ruining his hair. Tom lifts himself up and comes near to your face. He leaves a few pecks on your lips. You part your lips and deepen the kiss. His kisses are different now. Less needy. Slower, deeper. Meaningful.

Once he parts his lips from yours, he says "Right now."

"Well, look who is insatiable now," you say and grab his silver chain, pulling him back to you and kissing him once again. Seems like it’s going to be one long night.

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THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!

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