#one of the reasons why he's a fan of frequent hot baths | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stevesharrlngtons · 4 years ago

Text

Alabaster skin stood starkly against the night sky behind him, his hulking figure looming over you as you simmered delightfully in the water below him. The smirk on his lips made a shiver run down your spine (as it always did), the rest of his appearance not helping the aroused tremors tearing through you.

Standing on the top landing of the steps leading to the hot tub, Eric wore next to nothing, only a small pair of skin tight, red briefs adorning his lap. Usually, you both would soak in the outside tub totally nude, stargazing and feeling completely uninhabited. Although, that often escalated the activities for a night of relaxation to more heart racing pursuits. Though even now (somewhat) clothed, you could still appreciate the stars as a twinkling backdrop to the masculine focal point before you.

Gazing up at him, you sat comfortably soaking in the bubbling water in a bikini, a pitiful display of fabric of your own and in a matching red color to your lover’s. Unable to stand his absence anymore, you removed your arms from the water and opened your wingspan up for him invitingly, your fingers playing tiny instruments in an eager search, and silent beg, for his body. He let out an amused chuckle, his eyes falling to the edge of the tub as his lips stretched wider at your actions. Soon, your fingers got their wish as they greedily took ahold of his shoulders and helped pull your body flush to his when he joined you in the tub.

“Impatient, are we?” He teased and you hummed in response.

You were always impatient to be close to him.

Your contented repose was quick to change into a squeal as Eric swiftly lifted your thighs around his waist and propelled you both forward in the blink of an eye, his destination to one of the surrounding seats. With the same lithe smoothness, he turned your conjoined bodies without so much of a wrinkle on the water's surface to position himself in the indented chair, with you on his lap.

When all was comfortable and settled, Eric’s hands moved to palm at your thighs, fingers fanning across your skin to cover as much territory as possible. You weren’t the only one greedy and impatient.

Your cheek came to rest against his pale chest, the warm water lapping around your chin and freckling your cheeks, but you paid it no mind, far too happy and satisfied to care. Your own hands hung slackly over the tubs edge, arms around Eric’s neck and elbows to his shoulders. Every once in a while, he would turn his head to dry a lazy line to the soft inner flesh of your biceps with his nose.

After a while of calm acclimation to the increased temperature and loose threads of careless conversation, one of Eric’s hands left your thigh to journey its way up and over your hip and over the notches of your spine to find purchase on the nape of your neck.

Your hair had been pulled up to keep it from getting wet, but a few stray wisps had freed themselves from your clip and made circled damp patterns on your skin. Eric took it upon himself to stroke those fly away back up with their sisters as his chest rumbled with anecdotes beneath you. Once he was satisfied that the hairs were reintroduced with the rest, he made work with removing them again, weaving his nimble fingers through the strays and removing other longer locks while he was at it. He wound the wet pieces around his fingers in tranquil designs that had you melting further into his chest.

While Eric and you shared intimacy in many ways, being snuggled together in the hot tub had become a quick favorite of yours.

After he had first purchased the hot tub, you didn't get much use out of it. The shower was easier and the bathtub more private (for when your evenings escalated), so he didn’t really see the need.

But on one of the scarce occasions that you both did use the tub, you had made a comment that the water warmed his icy skin to what you could recognize as a “normal” human temperature.

“Different from in the bath or the shower,” you’d said, your face pressed to him in a similar position to your current one, “maybe because we sit in here longer.”

He had laughed off your observation at the time, replying quickly with:

“Now that you know what I feel like as a human, it’s only fair that I get to feel you as a vampire. We have a walk-in freezer at Fangtasia, so it could be easily arranged...”

You slapped his arm in playfully retaliation before the topic had been dropped and forgeten. Or so you’d thought.

Because you had noticed that since your remark, Eric would find a way to get you both in the hot tub frequently, and routinely orchestrate soaks before it was time for you both to head to sleep for the night. While you had started to wonder why; whether it be because of the soothing water and what it did to grant you both a deep and gratifying slumber; or if the reason was more symbolic; you didn’t know and truthfully you didn’t much care. Ice cold or scorching hot, human or vampire, you would love this man just the same.

As he placed two gentle kisses to the thrumming pulse of your throat and peak of your shoulder between some story he was retelling from Fangtasia (or possibly recounting legends of the constellations, you were far too sated to follow) he only reinforced that conclusion in your mind.

#wrote and edited at 3AM so if there are tons of errors cut me some slack lol #still practicing writing for Eric so I hope it’s accurate (-:#anyways I love u ❤️#eric northman x reader

153 notes · View notes

rfadaydreaming · 4 years ago

Text

boyfriend jumin headcanons

theres no way hes been in a relationship before, never even kissed someone before. you best believe hes going to go all in hes so starved for love

he needs to hear every single thing about your life, even the littlest things. he will remember it all, and asks so many questions too. could listen to you talk for hours and never get bored. your life is so different from his, he finds it fascinating. always wants to know more.

at the beginning of the relationship he has an extremely hard time controlling himself and finding whats right and wrong in a romantic relationship. you have to be very open with your boundaries or he’ll treat you like a doll, he cant help himself hes just so enamored.

does SO much research on relationships, he doesnt like the advice he finds but hes looking in all the wrong places. seven gives him links for real advice from real people reddit instead of mens magazines because those all suck. jumin starts to ask him for help whenever hes curious about something and seven will find a link for him to read. it helps bridge their relationship a bit more. seven is one of those friends thats amazing at relationship advice but for some reason desperately single.

even though he’s new to relationships and still trying to figure it out, that does not mean hes bad at it. no sir. this man was raised on romantic novels and cheesy soap operas. he knows his way into your heart easy peasy

the most beautiful arrangements of flowers delivered to your doorstep, your favorite foods from the most gourmet restaurants in seoul sent right to your work, hand written love letters sealed in wax sent to you while he’s away on business. declares his undying love for you over the phone almost daily.

hes never been around women much before, rikas the exception but he wasnt around around her like you would be with a lover. so hes interested finding out about your habits, routines, likes. the way you cook breakfast in the morning, the way you do your bedtime routine, your afterwork routine. always finding something new to love about you every new day.

he really adores anything and everything you think is a flaw. he prefers you with your quirks rather than aiming for perfection. theres nothing wrong with being “plastic” but the majority of those types of women he’s been around are the rich snobby type more than every day women. he prefers you. again hes never been close to many women so its kind of amazing but sad the things you can find to think harshly about. things he absolutely would never imagine someone being insecure about in the first place. he loves this body, it makes him upset when youre so critical to it.

he’ll explain to you what goes on behind the scenes of corporations and how exactly they make you insecure about those odd little things just to profit off of it, theres nothing wrong with you to begin with but if you believed that then they would be out of business, you see. knowing that aspect of things is why hes understanding but still saddened by your insecurities.

hes a very possessive man and is unashamed about it. hes never had anything as important as you to protect before so he doesnt care how ridiculous he may be sometimes, as long as youre safe. body guards, frequent calls, locations on, always wanting to be with you if he can. if that all bothers you i feel like that would be a bit of a disagreement area. his personality is naturally possessive and he does it out of love so bear with him please. he would definitely tone down as time progressed but for now he doesn’t want to let you out of his sight. trusts you, not other people.

he likes to observe you a lot, your day to day. it’s interesting to him even though it can be a little annoying to you sometimes. asks questions constantly. hes so curious. jumin let me go to the bathroom in peace hes literally a child

it makes him so happy when you laugh at his jokes. everyone else thinks they’re not funny but he doesnt care, as long as you laugh hes happy.

if you wear make-up it’s literally amazing for him to watch. he’ll stand in the bathroom and just observe. you can GLUE eyelashes to your FACE?! and its common?! this is so shocking to him. he had no clue. its kind of embarrassing for you but hes just so interested. never watched someone put on makeup before. the process is so intricate and careful, hes so fascinated by this strange magic. youre so smart too, he doesnt know any of the names of the things you use but always asks so he can remember for gift giving purposes. shades you like, shades you dont like, companies you dont buy from, your favorite brands. somehow has a giant mental notepad and writes all this down for safe keeping

speaking of smart he thinks you are the smartest person on the face of this earth. hes so confused at certain aspects of life and you help him get it. why do people eat fried chicken when its not nutritionally dense or even healthy to consume? it doesn’t make sense. because its yummy, jumin. wow, youre so right...

always texts you little reminders throughout the day to show his love. dont forget to eat breakfast dear. dont forget to wear sunscreen before you go out love, its hot today. dont forget that i love you so much my darling ♥︎ SO CUTE hes so caring

this man is so so touch starved, he always wants to hold you or touch you in someway. if he could bring you everywhere with him he would. he starts to get anxious if he goes too long without your comfort, truly doesn’t know how he made it for so long without it

not the biggest fan of pda but it depends on the situation. he likes making others jealous but he doesn’t want anyone else to see the way you look after he kisses you in that one special way that only he can. thats for his eyes only

loves showering you in anything you desire. you are spoiled. he’d buy you a whole ass island if you wanted one. he never understood how his father could just give away so much to a woman but now he cannot say a THING. he’d go completely broke as long as it made you happy

if you dont like tons of store bought gifts he’ll spend more time on meaningful ones. picking you flowers from the rooftop garden and arranging them himself, he embroiders as a pastime so he’ll make you cute little cat decals and stuff like that

he likes to do things for you like paint your nails, wash your hair, put lotion on you after a bath etc. loves it so much, if youre not comfortable with him babying you its totally fine but if you are he’ll do it whenever you let him

he has very cold hands. never really thought about them until he met you, really hopes you dont mind. tries to warm his hands up where he can before he touches you, but secretly loves when he runs his cold fingertips down your skin and you get gooseflesh all over. thinks its cute.

gets insecure sometimes. not really about his looks, but his personality. luciel is funny, zen is handsome and suave. yoosung is sweet and open with his emotions. he wonders frequently why you chose him out of anyone else.

all in all jumin is someone you need to get used to being in a relationship with, hes not the average joe and has a lot going on with himself that he needs to work through. but if you help him, love him for him, he’ll be the sweetest lover you could ever ask for.

#mystic messenger #mysme #mystic messenger headcanons #jumin han #jumin

361 notes · View notes

itsclydebitches · 3 years ago

Note

I adore talking about this with you, it's so cool to be able to agree, everything I've read is just excusing yen lmao.

And with "geralt would rather do and say things Yen wants to avoid pissing her off" LIKE YEAHH I guess I annoyed yen with my answers and she teleported Geralt out of the tower thing, and then threatened to do it again like??? Like he pissed her off so she has fuck all care about him, was over water thank god but like girl??? omg and her refusing to tell the wticher bros what she was planning on doing to Uma, like I get that they would be hesistent but I mean it's cause it's cruel and painful and they have that trauma around that. She just expects everyone to do what she asks when she asks no questions. (Lambert's "I'm not geralt" when he and Yen are kinda arguring, bb red flags)

I just assumed she didn't believe him cause if she did whats her excuse for behaving how she is lmao??? Like you believe he has amnesia and you still blame HIM over the person who maniplated him KAY.

And goodddd that fucking scene when Triss and Yen see Ciri in Kaer Morhen is genuinely the worst, Triss and Yen see their sis/daughter (not gonna get into how weird I find it that Triss considers Ciri her sister and Geralt is Ciris father and she still wants to fuck him, uncomfy) for the first time in forever, she's alive and well and while Triss is hugging Ciri, Yen kisses Geralt and Triss throws a glare at her. I hated that scene so damn much, it's stupid and shouldn't have been there. (aso I get emotions and all but Yen kissing Geralt is so bitchy, idk even full of gratitude and emotion I wouldn't kiss the man who just dumped me lol, especially not in front of a situation like Triss)

I'm still mad about the women, I really wanted to like them fuck meeee

YOU GOT TO THE PART. Oh thank god, anon, I've wanted to talk about this since we started these conversations lol

Okay, let's set the scene, shall we? You arrive to find that, with our playthroughs anyway, your ex has barged into your home. I say "barged in" because although we (Geralt) know that Yen's help is necessary and she'll be tagging along, the other witchers living there are given no prior warning and, according to Vesemir, Yen teleported in without so much as a "Hello." She then immediately starts ordering everyone around like her servants, failing to explain the situation beyond there being a curse that they have to help with. No, this isn't negotiable. She (still being an ex) takes your old room for herself, which just happens to be the biggest in the keep, and proceeds to toss a bed out the window. It's only later that Vesemir recalls that Triss used to use it, so prior to that everyone apparently just accepted that Yen was destroying their stuff for no understandable reason. Classic Yen. You go upstairs to find her cursing a blue streak at her failed experiment and when you try to lighten the mood, she snaps at you. If you're of the opinion that Yen's every order must be obeyed, this is when you're supposed to drop the conversation entirely, because she said to. Except, funnily enough, you'd like to know why she's up here being The Worst Guest Ever and destroying your property. She tries to justify this by saying that destroying a bed is better than how she could be dealing with her anger over Triss. Be grateful and all that. Except, it's not really about Triss, is it? The line is "You shagged my friend. For upwards of a year. I don't know what your witcher's code says on the matter, but ordinary folk would consider it obscene, base, vile." The blame is not on the woman who knowingly manipulated Geralt into having sex with her while he was vulnerable, it's on Geralt himself! He is the "obscene, base, vile" person for... daring to have amnesia? And when you point that out - "Yen... told you already. I lost my memory" - she yells that she's "lost [her] patience" and teleports you into a lake! This is, apparently, how she really wants to deal with her anger. Not by destroying beds, but by attacking you for things outside of your control. And I do consider it an attack. Yen is meant to be insanely powerful, she is leveraging her magic as a weapon here, particularly when Geralt has spent the whole game commenting on how much he hates portals. Yen knows this. Not just because he says so in her presence, but because she frequently reads his mind, something else he's expressed discomfort with. She's not just demonstrating her power (controlling) and sending him away when he makes a point she doesn't want to acknowledge (immature), she chooses the one thing she knows makes Geralt uncomfortable, perhaps even scared. Then when you've swum your way back to shore and returned to, despite all this, begin her list of chores, she makes a dry comment about how next time she just might drop you high enough for the fall to be fatal. With the next time implied to be, you know, the next time you disagree with her. The next time you dare to do anything other than agree with her every belief and jump at her every command.

The fandom interpretation of all this: "Lol Geralt getting yeeted is so funny. And their banter is just 😍"

Me:

You mentioned red flags and yeah like that ENTIRE SCENE is a crimson banner for me. I mean, by all means, love the fictional ships that are super messed up (I often do), but it astounds me how many fans honestly think this is just a cute interaction with absolutely no problems attached. Nothing to question here, folks. I've mentioned before, but last I discussed this in depth the asker wanted to know if I'd been an asshole to Yen and... that's it. That's the perspective. Any disagreement with her, any pushback, anything that's not complete, blind obedience is something she will not permit AND something most fans take as a given. If you're not doing what Yen tells you to, you're automatically the asshole, and if you're the asshole, you automatically deserve any punishment she chooses to dish out.

Comic spoilers coming up if you want to skip, but this is made abundantly clear in "Curse of Crows." Yen and Geralt are at their best in the moment below, enjoying one another's company on a nice day. Yen asks if Geralt wants to swim and he says nah, he'd rather watch her. She appears to like that idea and, indeed, swims naked while Geralt admires from the shore.

Actually cute right? I really liked this moment! They're cuddled up together and exchanging smiles. It's a rare moment of peace where I can believe that they truly care for one another, outside of passionate sex and not wanting the other dead. Finally, something beyond that incredibly low bar.

...except Yen starts flirting with a young man who shows up, invites him to travel with them, all while refusing to explain why she's interested in his company. The sudden third wheel is clearly bothering Geralt, but Yen continues to ignore his questioning. The answer she finally gives later that night?

She did it purely to mess with Geralt! It's his "just desserts" for "refusing to swim with [her]." She is "not one to be refused - I thought you needed reminding" by giving him "a flick on the nose." When I say that Yen treats Geralt like a dog I mean she literally treats him like a dog. He's a servant who must jump at her every command and if he doesn't, he'll punished for disobedience. He might not even know why he's being punished for a long stretch because Yen enjoys making him think she's a normal person capable of accepting that he doesn't feel like swimming right now - insert the Kaer Morhen scene where she wants to go have sex upstairs, but Geralt wants to catch up with the brothers he hasn't seen in an age here - only to reveal that actually she's made their formerly nice outing uncomfortable because he needs to be put in his place. All of which is followed by, "So... willing to join me now?" The message is very clear! Geralt had better get his ass in that tub unless he wants to be punished some more. Whether he wants a bath right now or not is inconsequential.

This is also the run where she scares the women Geralt was with, despite them being separated right now. Why? "I could."

Claims that Geralt is allowed to return to his companions (who he actually waves away) only for him to realize she's cast a spell to burn him with the water. Yen loves pretending she's okay with things only to punish Geralt for them later - sometimes with physical punishments. And what would have happened if the women had actually joined him again? Do witchers weather hot water better than the average courtesan? Who knows, but Yen clearly doesn't care who might get hurt.

Just like her time in Skellige and at Kaer Morhen, she refuses to explain what's going on. She just expects people to obey her, so-called loved ones included. Geralt was to get her cider, and arrive before her bath went cold, not question what they're doing on this dangerous hunt. He's a servant.

And my favorite, petty moment: transforming her awful inn food into a lavish meal without offering to do the same for either Geralt or Ciri.

"But, Clyde, that's just the comics. They're not really canon." Nah, questions of canon aside, this is 100% Yen's characterization. She's prideful. Immature. Beyond controlling. And punishes anyone who dares to tell her "No." Fans are always pointing out that she's meant to be horrible, she could have been a villain in another life, like any of that explains why I'm supposed to root for this relationship or enjoy her existence outside of being a complex character. Yen is interesting, but she's interesting in a "I can't wait to see her get her own just desserts" way. Not "Wooo now I get to watch this story ignore her behavior again to push a True Love narrative."

She punished Geralt frequently during their first meeting, she punishes him whenever they get together, and, I think, she punished him during the reunion with Ciri. Given our playthroughs, do we really think that after breaking up with her and all this fury over Triss - an anger so deep she destroyed the bed and attacked Geralt - she's just overcome with such joy that she forgets they're not together anymore and forgets the anger she's been nurturing for years? Yen doesn't forget. She's staring at Ciri during that moment, right where Triss is currently running towards them, and then after a considering look at Geralt pulls him in for that kiss. That was calculated. She did that to make a claim she no longer had. To punish them both: make Triss uncomfortable by playing at the "perfect" family reunion; make Geralt uncomfortable by kissing him when she knows he doesn't feel the same way. But of course, the popular reading is that she just loves him so much she couldn't help herself. Riiight.

It's just all SO BAD. (Including, as you say, the ickiness of having Triss lusting after Geralt and referring to Ciri as "little sis.") I love a lot of the women in Witcher - Cerys is a fave, Ciri, Saskia, Philippa, Keira, etc. - but the two I'm supposedly meant to fall in love with are just the worst lol.

Basically:

Half the fandom: TEAM TRISS 🤬

The other half: TEAM YEN🤬

Me: TEAM REGIS 😭

#witcher #mymetas #long post

21 notes · View notes

baoshan-sanren · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 50

Emperor Wei WuXian And His Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Birthday

Nie HuaiSang wrinkles his nose at the smell.

It has been some years since he has descended into the dungeons, but the damp air seems heavier now than it had been in the past. They are not meant to be enjoyable, the dungeons, and more pleasant accommodations would defeat the purpose of using them as a form of punishment. Still, HuaiSang does not understand why nothing can be done about the smell. The fan does precious little aside from moving the sticky air across his cheeks, and he folds it irritably, tapping Song Lan on the shoulder.

“Are you certain that torture will yield no results? I assure you, Madam Yu has made quite an art of it over the years. I think she takes pride in obtaining confessions without spilling a drop of blood.”

Song Lan shakes his head. They have spoken of this before, but HuaiSang knows that his voice will carry to the nearest cells. Perhaps Xue ChengMei cannot be tortured into a confession, but there is no harm in issuing a threat.

The boy is on his feet long before they reach him, forehead pressed against the bars, a mischievous grin etched across surprisingly attractive features. HuaiSang understands that a monster’s appearance will rarely reflect their inner monstrosity, but even he has to admit that this is slightly ridiculous. The boy looks fifteen years old at most, short in stature, small in build. The only vaguely threatening features of his appearance are the white, sharp teeth, but even those are made more menacing by their surroundings. Had the boy grinned at him in a well-lit courtyard instead of doing so in-between the bars of a cell, HuaiSang would have thought him cute, rather than dangerous.

“The Royal Companion,” the boy exclaims, “what an unexpected pleasure! I am a great admirer of yours.”

“Is that so?” HuaiSang says, “Do not spare the detail. I am always willing to be admired.”

Xue ChengMei’s eyes glitter in the darkness, his grin unwavering, “I should have known you would make no pretense of false humility.”

“Not precisely the way I prefer to be flattered.”

“It is your deeds I admire,” the boy says, “Tell me, does Sect Leader Su still believe that his son perished from a snake bite? Do you not think it extremely unfortunate? To be bitten by a yellow tail in MoLing?”

The boy taps his lips with his finger, issuing an exaggerated wink, “What a studious, sturdy snake that must have been, to have traveled all the way from QingHe just for a taste of the Young Master Su.”

HuaiSang mirrors the boy’s movement, tapping his lips with the fan.

Interesting. And potentially problematic.

“Your performance was not nearly as impressive,” HuaiSang smiles, “Such a common poison, with such an easily obtainable antidote. Surely, you did not expect that plan to work.”

“Ahh,” the boy sighs, pressing his cheek against the iron bar, “not all of us can be masters of the art I suppose. But the resulting chaos was quite entertaining.”

“Tell me about the Emperor’s potential,” HuaiSang says, “Tell me about achieving greatness.”

“Oh, but I have a much more interesting story to tell.”

“I am bored now,” HuaiSang turns to Song Lan, “let us go back.”

“Your father,” Xue ChengMei says quickly, “was no older than myself when the Empress took the throne. Such a young age, to be handed such great responsibility. Are you sure that you do not care to hear the story?”

HuaiSang’s fingers do not clench around his fan. He is calm as still water.

“You will like it,” the boy goes on, excitedly pressing himself against the bars, “it is a story no one else knows, but I am willing to share it with you.”

“Most of his words are deranged nonsense,” Song Lan says decisively, “there is no need to humor him.”

“Might as well,” HuaiSang says, glad to hear himself sound unaffected, “He seems anxious to tell it.”

“I am,” Xue ChengMei exclaims, “It is a fascinating tale. Many, many years ago, there was a mad Emperor who had a gift for demonic cultivation. But trying to control resentful energy comes with a cost. In order to continue using this infinite resource without harming himself in the process, he decided to store this energy into an object. The object would be capable of concentrating and directing the energy, but the process of creating such a thing came with a cost as well. He committed endless atrocities, slaughtered thousands of people, burned towns, rivers ran red with blood, so on and so forth,” he waves his hand impatiently, “You know that part of the story I am sure. Temples and cities obliterated, Sects decimated, advisors strung up by their toes, blah-blah.”

The impatient wave of his hand is such a perfect mirror image of Wei Ying’s own frequently used gesture, that HuaiSang is both alarmed and nauseated to see it.

“This part is known to all; the Emperor’s little niece, his favorite creature in the world, decides that the Emperor must be replaced, and murders her own uncle in cold blood. This is a story told and retold. Every child can recite the details. The Emperor’s experiments had failed, the Emperor was killed, the Empress took the throne, years of peace followed. But,” the boy presses his forehead to the iron bar, “this story is wrong.”

“Is it?” HuaiSang says, more and more convinced that this creature is dangerously unstable, “How so?”

“The Emperor did not fail in his experiments,” Xue ChengMei whispers conspiratorially, “He had succeeded. He had managed to create an object which can store infinite amounts of resentful energy, an object which can be used by any of his descendants. Any descendants, that is, who posses a particular affinity for demonic cultivation.”

HuaiSang feels his stomach turn, “The sword.”

“The sword,” the boy confirms, “Now, this is the interesting part of the story. The Empress, having grown up at court, did not have many trustworthy friends. But she did have three close confidants, two sworn brothers and a sister, peers she explicitly trusted. One of them, your father, was entrusted the sword. He was to place the sword in the Nie family's Ancestral Hall, where no descendent of YanLing DaoRen could lay their hands on it again. Can you guess what happened next?”

HuaiSang no longer cares that the boy can see his tight grip on the fan.

“Enlighten me,” he says coldly.

“Your father did not follow the Empress’ order,” Xue ChengMei grins brightly, “and who can blame him, truly? A young girl, not a full day in possession of the throne yet, asking him to hide such an object? If she were to lose her seat within a year, who would stand in the Nie Sect’s defense? Who would believe that the Nie Sect had obtained such an object for the sake of protecting the throne, instead of personal gain? You may think yourself a rare creature, Young Master Nie,” the boy winks again, “but I think you will find that the Nie Sect Leaders have always been pragmatists at heart.”

HuaiSang ignores the jab, his mind a whirlwind, “What did he do with the sword?”

The boy offers an exaggerated shrug, “Pawned it, sold it, given it away. What difference does it make?”

He is lying; HuaiSang knows this. He had made no effort to make it sound like the truth.

“How did you get it?”

“A friend gave to me,” Xue ChengMei says, blinking innocently through the bars.

“A friend who is still in the Immortal Mountain City?”

“Maybe,” the boy says, “Maybe not. Maybe he is no longer a friend. One cannot always trust those they call friends,” his grin is a sharp, sickly-sweet thing, “I believe this is a lesson the Emperor has yet to learn.”

HuaiSang wants nothing more than to take a hot, fragrant bath, and forget that he had ever spoken to this creature.

“You wanted the Emperor to become another YanLing DaoRen. To what purpose?”

“Wei WuXian would never be another YanLing DaoRen,” Xue ChengMei scoffs, “He would be so much more. A perfect vessel of destruction. A divine entity. Chaos personified.”

Well.

That answers that question.

HuaiSang taps his fan against his leg, thinking.

“Your attempts to eliminate the Lan Sect. You did not want the presence of those who can cleanse the Emperor of the resentful energy. But the Lan Sect is still here. The Emperor will recover. Your plan has failed.”

Xue ChengMei does not seem upset by the revelation, “Plans fail on occasion. There is always tomorrow.”

“You must have a great deal of confidence in your friend, who is maybe no longer a friend, if you intend to live long enough to see tomorrow.”

The boy only smiles in response.

It is an empty threat.

HuaiSang hates making empty threats.

A Jin Sect disciple cannot meet an accidental death in the Immortal Mountain City dungeons; not unless HuaiSang means to cause a diplomatic disaster. The situation at court is still too tense, too fragile for such heavy-handed solutions.

HuaiSang also cannot reveal the reasons for Xue ChengMei’s imprisonment. Such an accusation would result in a swift death, with no opportunity to draw out the accomplices he must have in the Immortal Mountain City.

No, the boy is infinitely more useful alive, although it sets HuaiSang’s teeth on edge to have this creature anywhere near Wei Ying.

There are many more questions he could ask, but the smell is unbearable, and for the time being, he has the majority of the answers he needs. The boy’s revelations may have been sparse and unpleasant, but HuaiSang has never needed all the pieces of a tangram to discern its shape.

Only when he is climbing the stone steps, does one particular sentence come back to him with full force, and he finds himself shaking his head in disbelief.

Chaos personified. As if Wei Ying had ever needed a demonic sword to be worthy of such a title.

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #ficlet #m #wwx emperor au #okay so i mixed up the order last time #this is xue yang's creepy story time #wangji's pov is next #ily chickens

147 notes · View notes

surveys-at-your-service · 4 years ago

Text

Survey #368

“whatever doesn’t kill you, is gonna leave a scar”

Have you ever bought a YouTuber’s merch? My favorite shirt is the Day of the Dead design by Cloak, which is Markiplier's and jacksepticeye's clothing brand. Mom's friend/former co-worker also got me a Ninja Sex Party shirt because she knew I liked them. There are SO MANY YouTubers I wanna support by buying shirts. Do you think oatmeal tastes better when made with water or milk? Milk, 110%. Have you ever left a note in a library book? No. What time of day do you prefer to wash your hair? Morning. Has anyone ever spread lies about you? Yes. Have you ever taken a photograph with a celebrity? If so, did it turn out the way you wanted, or do you wish you could retake it? No. If you could move out of your home country permanently, would you? If so, where would you go? If it didn't mean being so very far from my family, I would love to move to Canada. Is there a celebrity that everyone else seems to love, but you find totally overrated? Why is it that you don’t like them? I legit don't know who's considered currently popular, and I especially don't know who they are as people. If you could volunteer for any charity, which one would you choose? Do you think it’s more important to help humans, or are animal and environmental charities equally important? Something relating to animals, and I think they're both equally important. Do you prefer holidays where you relax, or actually do things? I like a mix. Something chill, but you still do some stuff as a family. Do you think that after we die our spirit is still alive? Yes. Has anybody ever told you that you could be a model? Someone has mistaken me for a model in a picture I once took. It was one of the most flattering things I've ever heard, haha. Do you use different kinds of moisturizer for different body parts? ie. hand lotion for your hands, face cream for your face. Or do you just use one moisturizer for all body parts? Yes. Have you ever felt like you were someone’s rebound? No. Has anybody ever broken up with you over something really pathetic? What was it? Have you ever been dumped in a disrespectful way? (eg. through text, through a friend..) I have 100% been dumped in a very cowardly and disrespectful way; after dating Jason for nearly four years and being very serious, he broke up with me very abruptly over Facebook Messenger. His reason was valid, but at the same time, he NEVER talked to me about it. Apparently my depression was dragging him down. If he'd fucking communicated it, I would have explored new treatment options so goddamn fast. But no, he decided to snap his fingers and disappear. That's exactly WHY it was so traumatic, I think: it was so unexpected and sudden. Did you have a lot of role models as a kid? Animal enthusiasts like Steve Irwin and Jeff Corwin for sure. Do you feel like anyone looks up to you? Why or why not? God no. I'm just... not someone to aspire to be like. What was the last thing you found offensive? I'm not sure. Who is the nicest person you know? My mom. Do you feel safe in your country? I feel safe in NC, rather. Like I don't expect an atom bomb or terrorist attack or something in this obscure area. In the U.S.A. itself, sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. America is definitely not loved by every other country. Do you feel safe where you live? Not in this city, no. Have you been falsely diagnosed with something by a bad doctor? Yup. Did y'all know I apparently have ADHD? I know, shocking. Have you ever had a doctor refuse to treat you? No. Name the strangest game you’ve ever played (video game or real game): The first Silent Hill, probably. It took a lot of reading to get it. Do you know anyone who has been struck by lightning before? No. Which cartoon character would you want to keep as a pet? Does Stitch count? Or a Pokemon. Do you like marshmallows? Yes. What is your favorite flavor of candy cane? I really like the Jolly Rancher candy canes, I think they are? Have you ever fostered an animal? No. Do you still take hot showers when it’s hot out? Not as hot, but not cold except on very extreme occasions. When writing $ sign, do you draw one line through the S or two? Two. What animal have you always wanted as a pet but couldn’t have? I'm thankful that my parents were pretty open-minded to what pets I really wanted, but one I was never allowed to have was a ferret because of how messy and smelly they are. List three people you’ve had crushes on: Jason, Sara, and Sebastian were probably my biggest crushes. Have you ever thrown up from cramps? No, but god have I felt close. List three people you had a hard time forgiving. Jason, Colleen, and my dad. Who is the most spiritual person you know? Probably my sister's mother-in-law. Would you ever start a vlog? God no, I'd bore people to tears. Are your dreams coming true yet? I mean, I guess in some ways with my mental health. In my deepest depression, what I have now was a dream, even though current me is very discontent with it. Most of my dreams, though? No. Do you struggle with depression? I've been diagnosed with severe depression since 7th grade. Are you haunted by your past? A few things won't leave me alone. What medical conditions do you have? Just a lot. There are even more that are up for debate. I've talked about my diagnosed conditions enough. Do you use a Magic Bullet? No. What does your apron look like? I don’t have one. What are your favorite spicy foods? Hot Cheetos, Takis, hot wings, jalapeno pizza... Man, I love spicy food. Which do you like better: being an adult or being a kid? Being a kid. Were you excited to be a teenager on your thirteenth birthday? I had very mixed feelings. Did you feel insecure in high school? Shit, I still do. Would you ever be friends with someone who was suicidal? What the FUCK is this question? No fucking shit I would be. Someone being suicidal in no way affects who they are as a person. Who was the biggest bully in high school? I don't think there really was one. What was your favorite class in high school? Art. Would you rather have a daughter or a son? If I wanted kids, a daughter. Have you ever written to an advice columnist? No. Have you ever had a doctor not believe what you told him? Maybe? I did however have an employee at the ER the first time I went try to pry out of me that my self-mutilation was for attention, and it wasn't until I insisted about a dozen times that it wasn't that he believed me. It's odd looking back that I got REALLY attached to him during that stay, knowing now that it was absolutely horrible and extremely unhelpful for him to do that. If you’re female, would you feel uncomfortable having a male gynecologist? I would absolutely refuse to have a male one. Do you like Lisa Frank? Yeah, like can you talk about aesthetic. What gives you nightmares? Boy, I wish I could tell you, given how much I have them. Were you ever hospitalized as a child? No. Did you get senior pictures taken? No. What color is your bicycle? I don’t have one. Did you ever have to take home a fake baby in health class? No, thank fuck. Would you rather wear ivory or white on your wedding day? What color will your bridesmaids wear? I'd rather wear black. I think red will be the bridesmaids' color. Would you rather have a swimming pool or trampoline? I want a swimming pool so damn badly so I could exercise my legs without worrying about sweating, and I can stop and rest whenever I want, unlike going walking or something. I don't think my knees could handle a trampoline. Do you think babies are cute? Some, sure. But a lot, not really. Do you dream about the future a lot? Yeah. Do you think about your past a lot? Way too frequently. How good are you at living in the moment? I'm trying to get better at it. Have you ever questioned God’s existence? Yeah. Vanilla frosting or chocolate? Chocolate. What’s your favorite foreign cuisine? I've actually been exploring Italian pasta lately. I'm not a big fan of foreign food that I've tried, though. Have you ever moved to another state? No. Did you do anything productive today? No. .-. Can you say the alphabet backwards? No, actually. Do you like flowers? Of course; does anyone not? Have you ever thought you were gonna die? I didn't care if I did or didn't. What kind of mood are you in today? I was honestly really depressed through most of it. Just health stuff was really getting to me. I just woke up from what was honestly like a four-hour nap and I feel all right, I guess. What are you craving right now? I REALLY want Domino's jalapeno pizza. Is there anyone you would seriously punch right now if you had the chance? No. What is worse, physical or emotional pain? Definitely emotional. Have you ever walked in on somebody doing something… questionable? When Dad still lived with us, I think he might have been watching... you know... on TV when I came into my parents' room for something. Idk for sure though. I didn't ask, and I don't want to know. If you were to make videos on YouTube, what would they be of? Oh god, idk. I don't want to make any. What I'd have most fun with would be reptile education, but I 1.) have literally one snake, 2.) am not extremely educated on a good number of them and don't want to be misleading, and 3.) I would run outta content fast. So, leave it to Snake Discovery, haha. Posting pictures of yourself in a bathing suit on the internet - ok or not? Yes, it's okay????? If you're talking about me personally though, you won't see me dead in a bathing suit picture. Do you typically laugh when somebody falls down? No, I gasp and see if they're okay. What is the most disturbing movie you’ve ever watched? Paranormal Entity. The ending is... a lot. Your opinion of Katy Perry, please? I like a couple of her songs. If you could say anything to your Mom right now… what would it be? "Thank you for absolutely everything."

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''leave a scar'' by marilyn manson

7 notes · View notes

ranma-rewatch · 4 years ago

Text

Episode 10: P-P-P-Chan! He's Good For Nothin'

Hey there everyone, sorry for the one week delay between posts. We are now up to the tenth episode in the first season of Ranma 1/2, and with it the last episode of Ryoga’s introductory arc. Once again, this is an episode that I’m not entirely sure about how it will play out, so I’ll see you all in the next paragraph once I’ve finished the rewatch.

You know, I hadn’t expected the ending to this Ryoga-centric arc would end with a nothing little story about him being kidnapped by a rich family. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, it’s just...underwhelming?

So, what exactly happened? Well, the episode starts right where the last one left off, with the revelation that the tiny black piglet Akane had found is in fact Ryoga under a curse. He tells Ranma how it happened. In chasing Ranma and his dad to China, Ryoga was lost for ages, searching the enormous country for his quarry. He’d almost caught up by getting to Jusenkyo, only to be hit by a red-haired girl running after a panda. The blow knocked him off a cliff and into a spring, cursing him.

To make things worse, the panda later found him and took him to the guide of the springs, who tried to cook Ryoga into dinner. Since then, traveling has become even worse, since his curse frequently embarrasses him or makes his journey more dangerous. Ranma gets indignant, though. Ryoga only blames him for this because he’d gotten there because he was chasing Ranma, but clearly whoever knocked him into the water deserves far more blame, along with the panda that tried to cook him.

Those words barely left Ranma’s mouth when the door to the baths opened and Ranma’s dad, in panda form, entered before noticing there were people there, and left. Ryoga, looking at Ranma’s cursed form, puts two and two together, realizing that Ranma was in fact also the one who cursed him. His rage flares up once again, but to avoid a naked fight Ranma uses cold water to activate Ryoga’s curse, making him a cute and harmless piglet.

Well, maybe not harmless. They fight anyway, and Ryoga runs out to Akane, who defends the tiny animal against the angry Ranma. To Akane, it just looks like Ranma is being a colossal jerk. Oh, and she kisses Ryoga on the snout, because she just thinks it’s a cute animal, unaware she’s kissing a hormone-laden teenage boy. She even takes him to bed with her, cuddling up with him like he’s a stuffed animal. She wonders why Ranma was so angry with this piglet, only coming to the conclusion that maybe he was jealous.

Whether it’s jealousy or not, Ranma is not having any of this nonsense. He sneaks into Akane’s room at night with hot water, ready to force Ryoga to change back and get out of there. But Ryoga avoids that and fights back, leading to Ranma falling onto Akane face-first, almost making it look like he tried to hug her in her sleep. This wakes her up, and after a moment of them just staring into each other's eyes really cutely, she goes ballistic on him for sneaking into her room and night and trying to get in bed with her. Ranma tries to defend himself, but doesn’t do a good job of it, and she sends him flying out the window.

At breakfast the next morning, it turns out everyone heard the ruckus, and assumed it was Ranma sneaking into Akane’s room to, uh, get busy. Nabiki doesn’t seem to have too much of a problem, aside from the noise level, while Kasumi disapproves of them doing that kind of thing while still underage. Their father, however, thinks Ranma doing something like that is a good idea, and gives him encouragement. Ranma is mortified, hating that everyone thinks he was trying to do something that he absolutely wasn’t.

Akane has nicknamed Ryoga in his cursed form P-Chan and basically adopted him as her pet, even taking him to school to show her friends. Ranma tries taking him to get him uncursed so they can talk, but Ryoga runs away leading to shenanigans. Eventually, with Hiroshi’s help, Ranma gets the piglet and hot water’s him, and they talk at the place where their fight had started before. Ranma points out that Ryoga has been so desperate to fight him, but now he’s running away.

Ryoga’s response is pretty simple. This curse has ruined his life, hence his intense anger for Ranma. But with Akane’s affection, and maybe even love, Ryoga is actually happy. He wants to just be P-Chan and stay with her, thinking they have some mutual affection for each other. Ranma tries to disabuse him of this notion, but that just makes Ryoga think Ranma loves her too. This doesn’t get a ‘No’ from Ranma, but instead a “Shut up, fight me!”

Too bad Akane shows up just as the sprinklers come on and turn Ryoga back into a piglet, leading to her once again thinking that Ranma was bullying her pet. In the ensuing chaos, Ryoga runs away and ends up getting picked up by a rich couple, who basically abduct him. They pamper him, but he just misses Akane, who is searching desperately for him. Even though he still doesn’t like the situation, Ranma tries to cheer Akane up. Oh, and the rich couple find out Ryoga is really a teenage boy, but they don’t mind and want him to be their heir.

As Ranma and Akane are walking home from school, Ryoga is trying to escape just as they pass by. Ranma jumps in to stop the servants of the estate from taking the pig back, but they turn out to be quite strong and they have weapons. Ranma struggles a little in the fight, but Akane helps and they win, taking P-Chan back. The rich couple accept this, walking away as they think that they’ll find some cute thing to replace him. In doing so, they pass Ranma’s dad in panda form, who is trying desperately to catch their attention by being adorable, but it doesn’t work.

That night, Ranma wonders why he even got Ryoga back for Akane, considering he doesn’t want him staying there with them. Then he tries sneaking into her room again, but this time she’s awake and alert, quickly knocking Ranma out again. The next morning, everyone is talking about Ranma doing it two nights in a row, and he is still embarrassed. The end.

This feels like a very patchwork episode. It resolved the cliffhanger from last week, introduced a dynamic that will be seen for basically the entire rest of the series (P-Chan and Akane), and then did a small story of him being kidnapped by rich people. There were definitely things I liked about it, but for the ending of Ryoga’s introductory arc, it definitely felt weaker than it should have.

Uh, let’s see...stuff to talk about...Well, I guess the big thing to tackle is something we’ll have going forward. P-Chan is both Akane’s pet and Ryoga Hibiki, and she doesn’t know that. To her, he is just an adorable little pig. Thing is, this feeds into Ryoga’s need for affection which is desperately unfulfilled, and causes him to fall in love with her. Which must be weird for her, because she barely knows him.

Then you’ve got Ranma, who is actually aware of what’s going on. It must be galling for him to have to watch Ryoga, who is normally the unluckiest person in the universe, stumble into what is kind of the perfect set-up. It makes sense that Ranma’s immediate reaction is to reveal Ryoga’s inadvertent deception so everyone knows what is happening. The fact that keeps failing means that he looks more and more like a creep, which just makes it worse for him.

The ethics of all of this are honestly kind of interesting. Is Ranma doing the right thing? After all, he’s going to big lengths to try and unmask Ryoga, breaking into Akane’s room at night, and even if he succeeds it will hurt both Ryoga and Akane in the process. But shouldn’t Ryoga be stopped? Sure, being Akane’s pet is very fulfilling for him, but she doesn’t have full knowing consent for everything going on with that. There is, after all, a good reason he doesn’t want her to ever know who he really is: she could possibly find that breach of her trust unforgivable. It’s messy stuff, and while I don’t necessarily love it, I am seeing more to it than I have before.

That being said, I am not really a fan of some of the conflict this subplot generates. I do not really enjoy Akane and others getting angry at Ranma and calling him a pervert, not believing any of his attempts to explain what’s really going on. I understand why, but as the viewer I know he’s actually right, and that creates a kind of uncomfortability that I’m not really here for.

Part of me likes both the scenes where the family has drawn the completely wrong conclusions to the sounds coming from Akane’s room. It’s funny, and I didn’t expect it. That said, there is some ambiguity to how they talk around what they mean. Do they think Ranma sneaked into Akane’s room so they could consensually bang? Do they think Ranma went up for a secret midnight rendezvous where he tried to talk her into doing sexy stuff? Do they think Ranma was trying to do certain things to Akane, whether she wanted him to or not? I genuinely don’t know, and some of those options are something I find hard to just wave off, especially when Akane’s dad is so supportive.

Hey, first time in a few weeks with a new character getting the focus! Well, not a ‘new’ character per se, but someone I haven’t done a spotlight on before: Akane’s father Soun Tendo. The head of the Anything Goes Martial Arts Dojo is definitely the most tertiary character I’ve covered so far. He hasn’t gotten a lot of development, and while the occasional episode with give him more to do later on, in general Soun is definitely a background character, far more than his friend Genma Saotome.

For voice-acting, both of his actors do a very similar thing, and they do it well. They give Soun this baritone, serious, kind of traditionally masculine and fatherly voice, which they make more humorous by going over the top with how sentimental and affectionate he is. In Japanese he’s played by Ryusuke Obayashi, who hasn’t done a lot of other voice acting work, while in English he’s played by David Kaye, who apparently has played Megatron (I don’t really watch Transformers) and is the announcer on Last Week Tonight with John Oliver, which is crazy to wrap my head around.

I don’t actually know how much blood I can get out of this stone. Soun loves his daughters dearly, though he can still annoy them by making decisions without consulting them first. His wife is dead, though how much that contributes to his current nature we don’t really know. He trained with Genma, becoming such good friends to the point where they made the promise to join their families together one day, and doesn’t seem to have any problem hosting Genma and Ranma for free.

Speaking of, he’s really well off, especially compared to his old friend Genma. The guy owns a pretty large chunk of the block, and while there are occasional comments about the freeloaders from Nabiki, it doesn’t seem as though taking two extra mouths on to feed has really affected his finances. I’ve got no clue where his money comes from. Inheritance? Something marital arts related?

Speaking of, presumably he’s a pretty good martial artist himself. Perhaps not as good as Genma, since he doesn’t train as much these days, but you’d think Soun is a pretty strong dude. As far as I can recall, he never enters any fights, which feels like a bit of a waste. In general, I feel like Soun is a bit of missed potential. I enjoy how he’s so comfortable being emotional, especially compared to some of his friend’s toxic masculinity, and there are occasionally moments where it seems like he tries to help mentor Ranma that I like. But on the whole, Soun is mostly a background character. He has been so far, and I don’t remember him really stepping outside of that too much. I can only help my memory is once again mistaken.

Okay, so, where do I rank this episode? Aside from the parts I liked, on the whole this was a bit of a slog. It wasn’t bad necessarily, but the back half especially was so dull for me that I kept mentally checking out, it was difficult to pay attention. That’s why I’d honestly put it at the bottom of what I’ve covered so far.

Episode 7: Enter Ryoga, the Eternal ‘Lost Boy’

Episode 9: True Confessions! A Girl's Hair is Her Life!

Episode 2: School is No Place for Horsing Around

Episode 6: Akane's Lost Love... These Things Happen, You Know

Episode 8: School is a Battlefield! Ranma vs. Ryoga

Episode 4: Ranma and...Ranma? If It’s Not One Thing, It’s Another

Episode 5: Love Me to the Bone! The Compound Fracture of Akane's Heart

Episode 1: Here’s Ranma

Episode 3: A Sudden Storm of Love

Episode 10: P-P-P-Chan! He's Good For Nothin'

Hopefully, next week we get something better as we move on to a new arc, which introduces a character I didn’t think appeared until quite a while later in the series. Come back next time when I’ll be talking about “Ranma Meets Love Head-On! Enter the Delinquent Juvenile Gymnast!” See you then!

#episode 10 #P-P-P-Chan! He's Good For Nothin'#ranma 1/2 #ranma saotome #ryoga hibiki #akane tendo #p-chan #soun tendo #anime analysis #anime rewatch

6 notes · View notes

vintage-story-time · 4 years ago

Text

Her Mother's Lover

Chapter 1

Charisse Mantell was more voluptuous than the average teen-age girl, and

at eighteen, she liked to pretend she had a worldliness and knowledge

about sex which she really didn't have at all. As a matter of fact, she

knew less about the sexual relationships between men and women than the

average girl. Her mother was a famous singing star on television and the

plush nightclub circuits of Las Vegas, New York, London and Acapulco,

but had kept her lushly developing daughter safely stashed away in

expensive private schools. Although Minna Mantell was a talented and

voluptuous beauty herself, she was at the age where a fresh, sexually

budding daughter might prove to be competition . . . competition that

would show up her own somewhat fuck-worn tits and ass.

In the exclusive private school, Greystone, where she was now, she found

that being the daughter of a celebrity made the other girls look up to

her. After all, the daughter of the famous Minna Mantell, TV and

nightclub star - a beautiful, if somewhat tarnished, figure of glamour,

a pet of the international jet set and adored by her faithful fans.

After a while however, Charisse found that her natural shyness was

mistaken for stand- offishness and that her former friends ignored her

to the extent of pointedly not inviting her to their parties or sorority

affairs.

Her mother had often told her that even as the daughter of a famous

woman, she would encounter plenty of jealousy and envy, and that she

would be very foolish to let that sort of thing throw her. For some

strange reason, she had always been closer to her mother, felt proud to

be the daughter of Minna Mantell. So Charisse tried to "cultivate her

cool," In spite of the other girls' snubs. But in her heart she was very

hurt.

She would actually see a group of girls hurriedly change the subject of

their whispered conversation when she approached, and knew they must

have been talking about her or her mother. As she went upstairs to

study, she heard what surely was a dirty remark about her, to judge from

the peals of mocking laughter that followed her to her dormitory room.

She mentally resolved that "he who laughs last, laughs best' - and that

she would one day have the last laugh over these bitches.

The girl who seemed to hate her the most was actually her next door dorm

neighbor, a rather mean, but physically attractive seventeen-year-old

girl named Debby.

Debby's room seemed to he some sort of magnet for the other girls in

Greystone and they would gather there very frequently like a flock of

gaily chatting birds. And, as much as Charisse tried to deny it to

herself, she was secretly hurt that she wasn't asked to be one of the

group. It was just all that phony sophistication and woman of the world

airs that Debby affected that attracted the other girls, she kept

telling herself. Finally, one weekend, she heard them laughing and

giggling in Debby's room and made up her mind to find out what it was

all about. Even though there was a sinking sensation in her stomach as

she did so, she casually opened the door and entered.

As the girls saw who it was, the gaiety seemed to die down, and she was

greeted by furtive and somewhat resentful looks.

"Just what can we do for you, Miss Mantell?" Debby asked her. "Or did

you open the door to the wrong room by mistake?"

Charisse's heart skipped a beat and she flushed in embarrassment as she

replied, "No, I just thought I'd join the fun . . "

There was a sharp intake of breaths, then a hushed silence and then

Debby spoke.

"Come right in, maybe you can fill us in on details about . . show

business that we were discussing. After all, your mother is the fabulous

Minna Mantell, superstar of TV, nightclubs, and all that jazz."

Charisse walked into the room hesitantly and saw that there were little

knots of girls all over. Some were on the bed, some were on the easy

chairs and others even sprawled on the rug. As Charisse found a place to

sit on the sofa, the gay girlish gossiping and hysterical shrieks of

laughter began again.

"Please don't feel that I'm intruding," Charisse said to Debby, "but I'm

really at rather loose ends this afternoon, and you all sound like

you're having such a lot of fun . . . " her voice trailed off. She

flushed under Debby's sharp mocking gaze.

"By the way," Debby said slyly, "we were just discussing the sex life of

some popular show biz personalities - or don't you think that people

like Frank Sinatra or Robert Goulet or . . . Minna Mantell indulge in

that pastime?"

Charisse flushed and her lips trembled as she tried to reply

nonchalantly, "Oh I've heard a thing or two."

Debby pressed her advantage. "How about giving out with some of the dirt

about your mother? After all, you've sort of got the inside track."

Charisse kept silent as Debby continued her clever taunting. "Well,

we're all waiting breathlessly to hear something right from the horse's

mouth, as it were. Or would the opening at the other end of the horse be

more suitable to the subject of Minna Mantell's private occupations?" As

Charisse pressed her lips together and tried to keep the tears from

filling her eyes, Debby added, "I've got a little scrap book here that

mentions her." She opened a book filled with news clippings. "Here's

something juicy - "Hot Love on the Big Networks" - Mmmmm . . . 'Is a

certain famous TV star about to have her option dropped because she

drops her panties too much?"'

"So what?" Charisse said grimly.

"So the rest of the article is all about Minna Mantell's love life, her

husband's affairs, and some really swinging sex, marijuana, and LSD

shenanigans. Really, you must have such an exciting time at home! It's a

shame we can't get you to tell us about it."

"How can you even read such cheap gossip sheets? They should be banned

from the newsstands!" Charisse burst out. "My mother says everyone in

the public eye is besmirched by those scandal sheets!"

"Look here," Debby said, thrusting her scrap book into Charisse's hands,

just see if this guy doesn't know what he's talking about. For just an

idle gossiper, he seems to know an awful lot about your mother and your

father. You're not mentioned - yet."

Charisse didn't want to look at the scrap book, yet the pictures of her

mother with some slick young men captioned "Minna's Latest" or "Handsome

Remedy for Singer's Sore Throat" held her gaze hypnotically. The stories

were about love affairs, secret trysts, sex-swapping parties at her

mother's New York penthouse, the young girls her father consoled himself

with and other sexy tidbits. Charisse knew that it couldn't possibly be

true. The parties she had seen at her mother's apartment never had

anything more exciting than spilling a cocktail occasionally.

"I don't know where you got all this dirt," Charisse said angrily, "but

I can assure you that's all it is - just a bunch of low down dirt, made

up by a second rate gossip columnist looking for filler! Now I think

I'll go to my room. I think I want to play my mother's latest record

album to get the smell of your scrap book out of my nose!"

"Really, Miss Haughty?" Debby asked slyly. "Since we come from such a

bunch of blue bloods, I guess you wouldn't be interested in some other

choice bits about your darling mother?"

"I don't know why you're picking on me like this," Charisse said, with a

hint of a sob in her voice. "If you don't want my company I'll leave

right now!"

"Oh, no," Debby replied with a sardonic grin, "we'd just love to have

you stay. Our parents live such dull lives compared to yours. We're so

unsophisticated - why don't you wise us up?"

Charisse knew that Debby was trying to embarrass her in front of the

other girls.

"I just ignore cheap slander, wherever it comes from," Charisse said,

looking pointedly at Debby, "and now if you'll excuse me, I think I'll

go and play those records in my own room!"

But Debby grasped her by the arm as she made her way to the door. "Oh,

I've got lots of other interesting scraps on your mother, Charisse. I

used to be a fan of hers."

Turning to another girl called Sally, she said, "Get me the rest of my

scrap books from the closet and we'll see who's slandering whom. Your

mamma really must be quite a babe with the boys, and you don't even want

to tell us anything about her technique of getting men. That's really

all we want from you, some pointers on what makes Minna such a

successful sexpot."

With this, she flung the scrap books the other girl handed her right at

Charisse's feet. They opened to show pictures of her mother in various

poses and escapades, including a certain nude bathing episode in the

fountain of London's Trafalgar Square.

Charisse ignored the pictures and made to leave the room. She was

actually on the verge of tears and couldn't understand what had brought

on this attack on her and her mother. She had only tried to be friendly.

Why was Debby so intent on torturing her and demeaning her in front of

the others.

"Pick those books of mine off the floor, and read those stories real

good. Maybe you'll thank me for giving you the best education you ever

got at good old Greystone," Debby ordered.

Charisse couldn't believe that this was happening to her, or that the

other girls would go along with this hazing.

"I don't think anybody would like it much if Miss Finchly heard what the

girls in her class were trying to pull," she quavered with tears in her

eyes.

"I don't think you would like it much if we really did a job on your

whore of a mother and plastered this stuff all over the school," Debby

answered. "Believe me, every girl here will make you sorry that you were

ever born if you even think of squealing to the headmistress."

Charisse felt that Debby was dead serious and would really carry out her

threats. Maybe the best thing would be to play along and then get out as

quickly and as gracefully as possible.

"Okay," Debby said viciously, "now read us a few bedtime stories, and I

do mean "bedtime" stories about your old folks at home. And speak up,

I'm hard of hearing."

Charisse flipped the pages of the scrap book unbelievingly. Finally she

began to read in a whisper, "I need to have my men big - all over, says

songbird Minna Mantell . . . "

She was interrupted with a high pitched squeal of laughter from one of

the group, but continued reading with a kind of fascinated horror. "'I

believe love is where you find it, says Minna Mantell on Rome's famed

Via Veneto. Could it be that the handsome young Italian accompanying her

agreed with her back in her hotel room?"' Charisse saw a picture of an

oily, gigolo-type leading her mother's poodle, while her mother looked

up at him in obvious admiration.

"You girls don't understand," Charisse said, "these things are just for

publicity, just a press agent's idea. Why, my mother would never do

anything of the kind!"

"Oh, no!" mocked Debby. "Not in a million years - but do read on, it's

all so interesting, even if it is just a press agent's story. Some of

them sound like a press agent's nightmare, if you ask me!"

Charisse bit her lip and said nothing. She realized that she was being

persecuted, and just because she was her mother's daughter. Her mother

had told her there would be days like this, but Charisse would never

have believed her classmates could be so mean and hurtful.

Taking another scrapbook in her hands, Charisse saw her mother

practically bare-chested in a see-through evening gown, obviously drunk,

with a man who certainly wasn't her husband. She dimly remembered also

seeing this man apparently coming from her mother's bedroom one night

when he was a weekend guest, but her mother had just been amused by

Charisse's questions at the time.

Almost hysterically, Charisse leafed through page after page of the

scrapbooks. Why, these stories made her mother out to be the giddiest

type of gadabout - a celebrity who gave sex so freely that she was

notorious for it. And her father, according to these clippings, was a

weak nincompoop who was always shooing handsome young strangers out of

his steaming marriage bed. But no matter how he tried, her mother

managed to keep the bed sheets hot. And all the stories about her

parents were in the same vein. Her mother seemed the biggest tramp and

her father the biggest dope in the entertainment world.

Rather sadly, she said, "I'd like to leave, I've seen all the

scrapbooks."

She was so obviously hurt that none of the girls laughed or said

anything, except Debby, who couldn't resist pitching one last dart into

Charisse's sensitive skin.

"Hope you enjoyed our little get-together and liked my picture books. By

the way," she added, "do you suppose you could get your mother and some

of her boyfriends to autograph my scrap books? That would make them

really interesting!"

Keeping back her tears, Charisse walked into her own room, holding her

head proudly. As she closed the door behind her, she flung herself down

on the bed and let the tears come. How could they rub her nose in the

filthy offal of the gossip columns? How could girls be so cruel?

Especially when she knew that none of it could be true. Even the most

innocent action could be distorted as to make it seem evil by these

gossip sheets. Her mother had assured her of that. But why had her

mother always gone to such pains to get her to believe that there would

be false gossip about her?

Having found that her mother was the soft spot in her armor, the girls

in her section of the dorm became quite sadistic. There would be sly

questions, like "What does your mother advise putting on a broken

cherry?,' flung at her in passing. But she realized that if she answered

this sort of torture, there would be no end to it. So she just kept

quiet and made believe she didn't hear a thing.

Debby, as usual, was the worst. Since she had the room right next to

Charisse's, she developed the habit of barging right in. Somehow she

almost always seemed to come in when Charisse was undressing and clad

only in panties and bra. Once it was without the bra and Debby had

looked fixedly at her voluptuous breasts and hadn't made any of her

usual remarks about Charisse's mother.

"What a pair of titties!" she said in a rather surprised tone of voice.

She left the room when Charisse hurriedly closed the bathroom door.

A new idea had been forming in Charisse's mind under the constant

pressure of all the teasing she was taking from the others. She would

just pack it in, leave Greystone Finishing School. She would go back to

her mother, tell her what had happened and just look for a job. Maybe

she could even become her mother's secretary. It would be fun traveling

with her mother from one engagement to another. She could really see the

world.

She made up her mind that she would take French leave from the school

this coming weekend. She would say she was going into the meadow for

nature study notes and they wouldn't even bother to look for her. By the

time they missed her at bedcheck, she would have almost arrived at the

penthouse in New York. Central Park would look good to her from the

seventeenth story of the luxury apartment. Much better than Miss

Finchley's school up in the farthest reaches of Westchester County.

She was nervous when she told the biology teacher she was going to spend

the day in nature study, but when she was finally away from Greystone,

she felt much better. She liked her bio teacher, and felt sorry if she

would get into trouble over Charisse's disappearance.

It was a cloudy day, and a bone-chilling dampness made her hurry along

to the railroad station. Some of the town's swingers, young men on the

make, always used to watch in town for the girls from Greystone.

Charisse knew that some of the girls had let themselves get picked up

for beer drinking parties at a nearby bar and discotheque, but felt it

was really none of her business. She herself had gotten more than one

off-color invitation to join them, but now they no longer bothered her.

Her figure had really matured more voluptuously than she herself

realized. With her miniskirt tight around her shapely asscheeks, her

full titties jouncing joyously with every step in her loose bra and

tight sweater, she was a real hard-on producer whenever she passed a

group of men. Her asscheeks jiggling, her tits full and inviting, long

auburn tresses, blue eyes and a lightly freckled skin that was

startlingly white - all these sexy attributes really raised the steam in

any and all observing males. Her lush, wanton figure coupled with her

girlish naivet raised cocks wherever she passed.

She knew she was exciting the group of young street corner loungers as

she passed them - maybe she even gave her hips an extra twitch.

"Mmmmm. Wouldn't that be a nice piece of ass to ram"

"Wow, her nipples are bigger than most girls' tits!"

She heard these and other comments on her physical attributes with a

slight inward shudder. If some of these so-called swingers wanted to get

to first base with her, they'd have to take a bath first. They looked as

oily and as filthy as they sounded. While she was still a virgin, she

remembered how in the hygiene class the male and female sex organs had

been carefully described by the somewhat mannish Miss Tuttle. She had

made them all squirm as she described the foreskin on the male penis,

and the smelly, cheesy deposits which accumulated under if soap and

water weren't used regularly. She tittered to herself as she thought

every penis and foreskin in the corner could probably stand a thorough

washing. And she'd like to see her sadistic friend Debby forced to do

the penis cleanup.

Some other girls soon drew the group's attention and she hurried on to

the station. She looked behind her just to make sure that none of the

girls spotted her heading for the train. It would just be too ironic to

have the Greystone administration stop her at this stage of the game.

She was really sick of the place and all those giggling tormentors. She

knew her mother would tell her that those papers were all lies. She

would be her mother's secretary and go all over the world with her,

glorying in her singing triumphs. Somehow, she couldn't picture her

father doing much of anything, really being in the picture with them. To

her inmost self, she admitted that he was a well-meaning man, but a

weakling for whom she had no respect. Her mother was the strong vital

force of the family.

She waited impatiently for her train to come. She only had about a

fifteen minute wait, but it seemed like hours. The ride to Grand Central

took two hours, and all the way down she tried to picture the reaction

of her parents at her sudden appearance in town in the middle of the

term. Her father, like all weak people, was conventional, a square, and

would probably insist on her going back to that prison of a school. Why,

now that she thought of it, even its name "Greystone" had that

penitentiary sound. But her darling mother was different, she knew she'd

be glad to see her "baby" as she called Charisse. She knew she would

listen sympathetically to her story and maybe she would even start

training her for the position of her secretary right away. She would

tell her mother about the gossip columns and wanted to hear her mother's

throaty contralto laughing and telling her to pay them no mind. And now

that she was older, and would probably be living at home with her

parents, she could certainly spot anything that wasn't right. She wasn't

a child anymore.

The train finally pulled into Grand Central at six p.m. and Charisse

felt like a coward as she went into a phone booth. She really dreaded

telling either of her parents what she had done; they thought she was

such a dutiful girl. When the phone rang, there was no answer. Charisse

breathed a sigh of relief. They had probably gone out to dinner and

would make things easier. The doorman would let her into the apartment,

and she could be sitting in the living room when they returned. She

hoped it was a good dinner, because then at least they would be in a

good mood.

She dozed off on the couch while waiting for them to come home. She just

didn't know how she was going to explain things, but decided play it by

ear. It seemed as if only a moment had passed and she awakened to the

sound of her mother's voice practically screaming in surprise.

"Charisse, baby, what are you doing home when you're supposed to be in

school? Is anything wrong?"

Taking a deep breath, she told them there was nothing for them to worry

about and that she was perfectly all right. But, she told them,

Greystone Finishing School was just an impossible place and she couldn't

stand the other girls' catty snobbiness another day. If they sent her

back, she'd just run away, and maybe go to Chicago or Los Angeles and

look for a job.

Her father stopped her short.

"School is the only place for a girl of your age, and you'll just have

to go back. Why, Greystone is one of the most exclusive schools in the

country and you have no idea of the strings I had to pull to get you in.

I know better than you what's best, and back to school you're going in

the morning. I'll probably be hearing from the headmistress any minute

now and I'm going to tell her you'll be there tomorrow morning!"

Charisse realized with a sick feeling at the pit of her stomach that for

some reason her father didn't want her at home, that she was just a

pesky kid who was going to be in the way.

Then Minna came to her rescue.

"Oh, Charles," she exclaimed, "you're being too hard on the child: Let's

hear her out. That's only fair, and maybe she shouldn't go back if she

hates it so much."

Turning to Charisse she said, "But you must realize dear, that my

singing schedules and your father's TV production business just doesn't

give us much time to spend with you."

"But Mother, you always said You needed a confidential secretary - and

who could be more confidential than me, and I'd just love the job,"

Charisse interrupted. "I'd be the best secretary you could possibly

have!"

"Young lady-" her father began, but Minna shut him up.

"I'll tell you what we'll do, baby. I'll call the headmistress at school

tomorrow and explain that you're not feeling well and that's why you

left. We'll get you a leave of absence and you can stay here while

mother and dad figure out the best thing to do," Minna smiled at

Charisse.

"Who knows, maybe it would be best for you to be my confidential

secretary. The idea has its good points!"

Charisse flung her arms around her mother and hugged her so tightly that

Minna told her to let up a little, she couldn't breathe. It was the

maid's night out, so Minna took Charisse into the kitchen and made her a

tuna sandwich and milk.

"Get to bed early, Charisse dear," Minna said. "Tomorrow's another day

and our problems will look a lot simpler then."

As she snuggled into her own bed that night, Charisse felt she had done

the right thing in leaving Greystone. When her beautiful mother was

around, she felt warm and comfortable; her mother was strong enough and

capable enough to set everything right. Those cheap gossip columnists

with all their dirty pictures and obscene insinuations could never make

her believe that her mother was immoral. Seeing was believing and she

had never seen her mother in a single immoral action in all her life.

But her father was a weak man, and as a TV producer, he surely met up

with a lot of temptations - girls who would do anything for a break on

one of his TV shows.

#Her Mother's Lover #Chapter 1

1 note · View note

writersplanetarium · 5 years ago

Text

Facade: Rude Awakening

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Aelin wasn’t usually awoken in the middle of the night by a phone call, not unless it was an emergency, so the sound of her phone buzzing had her up in an instant, answering before she even looked at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Is this Aelin?” An excited girl’s voice asked from the other end of the phone.

“Who is this?” Aelin asked.

“I am such a big fan of yours! Watching you on the show is so good and the romance between you and Rowan just feels so real-”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know who you’re talking about. Don’t call this number again.” Aelin hung up, quickly blocking the number. She knew this had to be Rowan’s idea of revenge. Giving her number to a fan. How petty.

Aelin was about to go back to sleep when her phone rang again. Another unknown number. Aelin hesitantly answered it.

“Hello?”

“Aelin I am absolutely in love with you and I know that while you don’t know me I’m confident that with a little time you could come to love me too-” Aelin hung up. So he gave her number to two people. Then Aelin’s phone rang again. And again. And again. Aelin didn’t know what to do as her phone buzzed over and over, again and again. Her texts started to blow up as well.

Something was up.

Aelin grabbed her computer, unable to open a single app on her phone with the immeasurable amount of calls and texts coming in, blowing it up. She went right to Rowan’s twitter feed and found a new post. A text conversation that was supposedly between them. And her actual number was right at the top.

Aelin swore thoroughly, raking her fingers through her hair. He’d really and truly decided to screw her over this time. She chucked her phone across the room, knowing it was well and truly screwed. It hit the corner of the wall, the screen shattering, and the phone physically breaking apart. Everything she needed was on her computer anyway. She dropped back down onto her bed. Of course, he had to go there.

“God I hate him,” Aelin said to herself, rubbing at her eyes. She could deal with that all in the morning. New phone, new number, new everything.

“Don’t say a thing, I know exactly why you’re here,” Lysandra said when Aelin showed up at her door the next morning.

“He’s going to actually be the death of me Lys,” Aelin said, raking her fingers through her hair.

“You need a day to just forget about Rowan. So we’ll get you a new phone, a new number, and then we’re going to go get pampered.”

“That sounds perfect,” Aelin said.

Aelin bought a brand new phone with a high-quality camera and more storage space. She’d needed a new one anyway, she supposed, but she’d grown rather used to her old one and the way she’d had her apps set up. Now she had to download them all again and rearrange them and set her accounts back up.

She was just exhausted.

“Hi ladies,” Phillipa said with a smile as Aelin and Lysandra walked into the spa, “What can I do for you today?”

“Full package, Phillipa. Aelin is having a day,” Lysandra said.

“I hear that,” Phillipa said with a sympathetic nod, “I can get you ladies right now.” The spa was beautiful. Lysandra and Aelin often frequented it for massages after busy weeks. The stunts on the show could take a real toll on their bodies. It was a lot of action and when they weren’t fighting they were standing or walking or moving. They spent hour after hour on their feet, working their bodies to the limit, so they often came here to relax and unwind. Phillipa’s massages never failed to relax Aelin.

They started out in the jacuzzi, relaxing into the warm water. Aelin sat back, letting the jets ease away some of the tension in her body.

“Do you want to talk about what’s been going on with you lately?” Lysandra asked.

“What do you mean?” Aelin asked.

“You and Rowan have been at each other’s throats relentlessly lately,” she replied, “Normally you two get at each other and then you let off for a while, but it’s been constant. Talk to me.”

“I haven’t been able to relax lately,” Aelin said, “It’s getting close to… the day Sam… And with everything Rowan’s been doing… I don’t know. It’s just been a lot lately. This break from work is supposed to be my time to relax, but it seems like I just can’t get into it.”

“I know it’s hard for you,” Lysandra said, “But maybe you just need to take a break from your feud with Rowan. If he’s stressing you out, be the one to take the high road and stop this.”

“He crossed a line, Lys.”

“And you didn’t?” Aelin sighed, tipping her head back. “I’m just saying, you both react to each other. You’ll keep reacting to each other if you don’t stop.”

“I’ll think about it,” Aelin said.

“Will you also think about taking Evangeline tonight?” Lysandra asked, “Aedion got tickets to a concert and she’s got school tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Aelin said, “She is exactly what I need right now.” Lysandra grinned.

“She does have an uplifting spark to her, doesn’t she?”

“Life is never boring with her around,” Aelin chuckled, “She doesn’t give you a chance to be lonely.”

“Don’t I know it,” Lysandra chuckled, “But she’s one of the best things to happen to me.”

“How’s she doing in school?” Aelin asked, “Still keeping her grades up?”

“Great. She’s smart as a whip. She’s already doing great things and I can’t wait to see her when she gets older.” Aelin and Lysandra continued to converse, teasing and joking, slowly relaxing more and more. They went back to the massage room a little while later.

Aelin let her eyes fall closed, groaning contentedly as Phillipa massaged the knots out of her muscles. She slowly felt the tension ease out of her, starting from her shoulders and working its way down to her feet before she flipped and Phillipa worked her way back up.

Next Aelin and Lysandra got their nails done, Aelin choosing to have hers painted a dark green, while Lysandra picked a vibrant red. When they got done, Aelin felt refreshed and more at ease than she had been before. They picked up Evangeline from class as they left and gave her the news.

“Hey Ev, how do you feel about spending the night with me?” Aelin asked from the passenger seat, turning to look at the girl. Evangeline’s face lit up with joy.

“Really?!” She asked excitedly, “We can have a sleepover on a school night?”

“So long as you’re in bed at a reasonable time,” Lysandra answered.

“I’ve got face masks, and Oreos with peanut butter we can eat while we watch ‘The Parent Trap’. But only after you’ve done your homework.”

“Consider it done already.” Aelin grinned at the girl and turned back to the front.

Lysandra dropped Aelin and Evangeline off at Aelin’s house and they headed inside.

“You hungry, Ev?”

“Starving,” she replied, setting her bag on the couch, “But please don’t make me eat your cooking.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Aelin said dryly with a slight tease to her tone, making Evangeline giggle. “We can order pizza, no worries. I won’t make you suffer. What are you thinking about for toppings?”

“Extra cheese and pepperoni and bacon,” she said definitively.

“You got it,” Aelin said, ruffling her hair. Aelin ordered a pizza and had Evangeline work on her homework while they waited. Aelin worked on setting her phone upright again. Soon enough the pizza was at the door and they were eating happily.

“Hey look! Rowan’s outside!” Evangeline said, looking out the dining room window. Aelin turned and saw Rowan in his backyard, shirtless as he mowed his lawn. Aelin hated that she took a few moments to stare. His tanned skin glistening with sweat, his tattoo visible and winding up his left side. “Ooo, you’re staring,” Evangeline said.

“What? No,” Aelin said, a slight flush creeping on her cheeks. She did not think of Rowan like that. “No. No way.”

“Why not?” Evangeline asked, “Lysandra says he’s Hot with a capital H.” Aelin gave a small snort before defending her decision.

“He gave my number out online, Ev. I had to get a new phone and a new phone number. Someone could track me down and break into my house and kill me.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Evangeline said, “Rowan would never let someone kill you.”

“Maybe not let, but it could still happen,” Aelin stated.

“But now you’ve got a new phone, so it’ll be fine,” Evangeline said.

“Fingers crossed,” Aelin said, giving the girl a reassuring smile. They finished up eating and Evangeline finished up her homework.

They easily coasted through the rest of the night, joyfully participating in a mini spa of their own. Aelin let Evangeline turn on the jacuzzi jets in her tub when she took her bath and once she was out, they both got into their pajamas. Once they got dressed, Aelin put in ‘The Parent Trap’, letting it play in the background as they got started.

Aelin combed through her hair, pulling it back with a headband, then, she busted out the face masks.

“Pick a face mask, any face mask,” Aelin said, showing Evangeline the variety.

“This one!” She exclaimed, pointing to the glittering, peel off mask and closed her eyes, eagerly awaiting the application. Aelin painted it on the girl’s face, both of them grinning widely. Once Evangeline’s was on, she put a grey, foaming mask on Aelin, giggling at the way it puffed up.

“Now a color.” Aelin showed the girl the wide array of colors she had and Evangeline picked out a cobalt blue. Aelin carefully painted her little fingernails and toenails while Evangeline snacked on the Oreos and peanut butter Aelin had set out. They sat together once Aelin finished, waiting for the polish to dry.

They ended up having time after ‘The Parent Trap’, so Aelin agreed to watch a few episodes of their show with her until bedtime.

Evangeline was yawning by the time they made it through the third episode, cuddling right up beside Aelin.

“You ready for bed?” Aelin asked. She nodded, her eyes heavy with the need for sleep.

“Can I sleep in your room with you?” Aelin looked around and leaned with a conspirator's grin.

“I guess one night won’t hurt.” Aelin decided to leave the mess to the next day, heading upstairs with Evangeline. They both hopped into the bed, Evangeline wrapping herself around Aelin, making her smile. “Goodnight, Ev.”

“Goodnight, Aelin.”

For the first time in a long time, Aelin was content and relaxed. Happy. She drifted off, confident she’d be having sweet dreams.

But she just couldn’t seem to catch a break lately.

Aelin was startled awake by a crash downstairs that wrestled even Evangeline out of sleep.

“Aelin, what was that?” She asked.

“I don’t know,” Aelin said, panic crawling in her veins.

“Is someone breaking in?” Evangeline asked, “Did they find you?” The stark possibility that the words could be true made Aelin’s protective instincts kick into gear.

“Under the bed. Now,” Aelin said. The girl did as she was told and Aelin grabbed her phone, going to call Aedion before remembering that he and Lysandra were out. It was early enough that they’d no doubt still be at the concert. Aelin hated it, but she needed to put Evangeline’s safety first. So she called Rowan.

“Hello?” He asked.

“I think someone’s breaking into my house,” Aelin said, grabbing her throwing knives from her bedside drawer.

“Aelin?”

“Yes, it’s me, Buzzard. Evangeline is here in the house with me and we heard crashing downstairs. Aedion and Lys are gone, so you have to get your ass over here right now.”

“I’m on my way. Stay on the phone and don’t go down there until I’m at the door.” Another crash sounded.

“Hurry up.” Aelin locked her bedroom door, pulling it closed behind her as she crept out into the hall to keep Evangeline safe. She went down the stairs as quietly as she could, staying on the line with Rowan.

“I’m at the front door. It’s locked. Where’s the spare?”

“Mailbox. I’m heading down now.” Aelin tried to keep her voice as quiet as she could, not wanting the intruder to hear.

“Aelin, don’t be stupid,” Rowan said, “Just wait until I can get inside.” Aelin closed her eyes, clenching her jaw. She heard Rowan rustling on the other side of the phone as she made it to the last few steps. It was too dark for her to see anything as she scanned the living room. Then, just barely, she saw something move by the coffee table. “Okay, I’m coming in. Can you reach the lights?”

“Yes,” Aelin said, her voice not even loud enough to be considered a whisper.

“Three… two… one.” Rowan came in through the door as Aelin hit the lights, rounding up with a throwing knife at the intruder as Rowan shouted. “Freeze!” He looked around for the intruder and found where Aelin’s eyes fell. On Fleetfoot, who was eating the jar of peanut butter she’d left out, the nail polish and face masks all knocked over.

“Gods, Fleetfoot,” Aelin said, putting her hand over her chest with a rush of relief.

“It’s the dog?” Rowan said, lowering the gun in his hands, clicking on the safety, “You called me over here because of your own damn dog?” He was still dressed in his pajamas, no shirt, long hair ruffled, clearly having jumped right out of bed.

“She wasn’t here when I went to sleep!” Aelin shot back, “Dorian must’ve dropped her off. He probably texted me, not knowing I needed a new number because somebody gave out my previous one to millions of people online!”

“I come over here in the deadass middle of the night to help you and you’re going to yell at me?” Rowan asked.

“Yes because I wouldn’t have even had to call you over in the first place if you hadn’t created this mess!” Aelin retorted, “And now Evangeline is upstairs hiding because she thinks someone could be in the house to kill us because you gave out my number online. People can find me based on that! Which means they could just as easily find you too. And Aedion and Lys and Evangeline. It’s common knowledge we’re all neighbors. Do you not think before you act?”

“That’s rich coming from you, Princess,” he retorted. Aelin heard the soft patter of feet behind her and saw Evangeline come downstairs.

“Is everything okay now?”

“Yeah, Ev, it was just Fleetfoot. Dorian must’ve dropped her off.”

“Fleetfoot!” Evangeline ran down to the dog, taking the jar of peanut butter and setting it aside as she cuddled up to the dog. “I missed you!” Aelin ran her hand through her hair, her adrenaline still pumping as she let out a long breath.

“I’m going back to bed,” Rowan huffed.

“No!” Evangeline said, “You have to stay. What if someone really does come for her?”

“No one’s coming for her,” Rowan said.

“You gave out her number and I’ve been on enough cop shows to know people can find you that way,” Evangeline said, “Please, Rowan?” Evangeline gave him puppy dog eyes that Aelin knew even he couldn’t resist.

“Fine,” he said reluctantly, “Just one night.” Evangeline pulled him upstair by the wrist, Fleetfoot following not far behind. Aelin shook her head, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes.

Rowan Whitethorn was staying the night in her bed. Perfect. Just perfect.

Aelin cleaned up a bit before shutting off the lights and heading upstairs with them. When she went into the room she found Rowan on the far end, Evangeline beside him, curled up with Fleetfoot who was closer to Aelin’s side.

“I put my gun in the lockbox in your nightstand,” Rowan said.

“Fine,” Aelin replied, setting her knives beside the box.

“Were you seriously going to take on an intruder with knives?” Rowan asked.

“Better than nothing,” Aelin retorted, “And I’m a good shot.”

“Shhh, it’s time to sleep,” Evangeline said.

“Okay, okay,” Aelin said, climbing into the bed. She pulled up the blanket around her and felt the covers tug as Rowan pulled them over towards his side, Aelin rolled her eyes, shifting to get comfortable.

“Goodnight everyone,” Evangeline said.

“Goodnight Ev,” Aelin said as Rowan also gave a curt “Goodnight”.

Aelin took in deep breaths, willing herself to calm down. She was just exhausted. Utterly exhausted. She wasn’t relaxed anymore, yet, whether she wanted to admit it or not, she felt safe with Rowan in the room. So she drifted off into sleep not too soon after she laid down and slept all the way through the night.

Tagged:

@captain-timetraveldreamer @tangledraysofsunshine @dayanna-hatter @faerie-queen-fireheart @rowaelinforeverworld @alifletcher2012 @shyvioletcat @runawayrowan @myfeyrelady @howler07 @your-high-lady @secret-lil-rendez-vous @running-with-thieves @orangeannie @rapunzel1523 @tswaney17 @queenblueoffire @but-she-was-aelin-galathynius

LMK if you want to be tagged!

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fanfic #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #facade #facade ch 5 #actor au

132 notes · View notes

xathia-89 · 5 years ago

Text

A Kimono as a work of art

Tagging: @plumpblueberry because it’s Yoshimoto. And @thequeenshuntress because she proofed for me. NSFW.

The castle was brimming with life. Maids were everywhere, and merchants had been bringing goods to the kitchens all day as I helped one of the girls to carry a crate of sake out to the hall. Kenshin had declared an enormous banquet to take place, though he refused even to tell Sasuke what the reasoning behind it was. Everyone was getting excited since all of the servants and staff were invited to this one. Some retainers had grumbled initially at the revelation until the sharp end of Kenshin’s sword convinced them otherwise as all of the girls around the kitchens were giggling and gossiping about what to wear.

“Lady Natsuki!” One of the maids came rushing over with the biggest smile on her face. “Lord Yoshimoto has sent you a present, and it’s waiting in your room. He said you would be needing private use of the baths before tonight and would need assistance to get ready,” the young girl was gushing, clearly enamoured with the beautiful man. She wasn’t even waiting for my response, grabbing me by the hand the second the crate was placed on the floor and dragging me out to the privacy of the bathing area.

I hadn’t had a chance to stop and think for a few days, not that I had minded very much when it was evident how much the rest of the castle was looking forward to the grandness of tonight. I was shoved into the bathing area without a lot of grace, grinning to myself as I took the opportunity to have a bath without Shingen trying to ‘help’ for once.

It was peaceful, the faint sounds of the bustling castle in the background as I let my muscles begin to relax under the heated water. I hadn’t realised how much of a sweat I had worked up today, and it was more than a little refreshing to wash the chores away before I decided to clamber out. One of Yoshimoto’s bathing robes had been left out for my use before I recalled the instruction to return to our chambers afterwards.

What I hadn’t been expecting was the most beautiful kimono that I had ever seen in the middle of our room. It was exquisite, and perfect in every way possible, and there was not any chance in hell that I would do it justice. I was searching through all of our storage areas where my clothing was kept, only to find it all devoid of any other options.

“Lady Natsuki?” One of the maids stuck her head in and had plenty of things with her to deal with my hair as well. “Oh my,” she admired, “Lord Yoshimoto has beautiful taste,” she complimented before turning to me with a smile. “I wondered why all of your kimonos were in the servant’s quarters,” she laughed.

“I can’t do that kimono justice!” I weakly argued before I found the young woman whistling for the attention of two others who were nearby, and found myself forcibly dressed in the luxurious material.

My arguing had meant everything was delayed, of course, and the banquet had started without me. The boys were already tucking into sake and platters of food before the maids insisted on making a fuss of me to enter. I was flushing red as the whole hall was gazing at me after the doors were slid open, and noticed that even Yukimura was more than a little slack-jawed to see me in such finery.

Shingen beat Yoshimoto to greet me, much to the annoyance of the Imagawa Lord. He looked prepared to go to war with his own family as Takeda was ungracefully shoved to the side for him to affectionately kiss the back of my hand in greeting.

“You look beautiful,” Yoshimoto smiled.

“You had all of my clothing removed,” I retorted, trying to keep the smile off my face as he was regarding me like a piece of art. I was failing miserably of course as Yoshimoto spun me around for a look.

“I know you,” he shrugged, before sitting down and patting the seat next to him.

Everyone was in high spirits, the sake flowing freely, and the food circulating well. The staff were able to taste more than just their own fruits of labour, as Kenshin had made it more than a little apparent that status made no difference at the banquet. For which, he was gathering many female admirers as he would pour for anyone able to stop his blade or convince him with words that there were more dangerous things about. I also didn’t realise how popular Sasuke and Yukimura were, especially when the two of them together it became quite apparent there was little in the way of natural charm and they both needed a female touch to their lives from the way the girls were fawning over them.

Then I seemed to have Shingen’s attention.

Yoshimoto had to leave me to assist with surgically removing Kenshin from his sword against his retainer, which the resident flirt took as an opening to chat me up.

“You are a goddess among men tonight, we are not worthy of your presence,” he smiled as I sipped at my sake, raising an eyebrow in question at the man. Yoshimoto was usually stopping him before there was the slightest of chances, but here I was fending for myself as I decided to see what he would do if I didn’t reply. He inched closer, leaning forward to take advantage of the fact that the room was mostly looking the other way. “An angel that requires the touch to make her sing maybe?” He chuckled. “I’m sure I could make your singing more than a little heavenly,” he offered as I refilled my cup. “Your blushing cheeks say more than your silence, princess,” he shuffled closer. “You make that kimono look like a work of art, but I am willing to bet that you are at your most beautiful without any material.”

There was no warning. A rib iron fan was stabbed into the mats and physically separating Shingen from me, a heated glare from molten eyes before my wrist was grabbed. I was hauled to my feet; the weapon yanked back before I found myself being escorted out of the hall.

“I told you to rebuke him,” Yoshimoto was boiling, throwing his arms around my waist before kissing me heatedly. It was easy to forget everything when his lips were involved, including that we weren’t in private yet. His fingers were nearly as magical, already pulling on the collar of my kimono to merely touch me as my knees were already threatening to buckle under me. A moan escaped before I could stop it as his lips were tasting my throat, my body arching into his touches before the warlord abruptly pulled back. “Not here, you deserve to be worshipped in private,” he was telling himself off as he adjusted the fabrics to ensure nothing was showing to anyone who didn’t deserve to look.

I was struggling to keep my body working. I was sure it wasn’t usually this far to our room from the hall, but then again I had recently taken to sake drinking competitions with Kenshin and would generally be passing out in the lobby before Yoshimoto would carry me back to our room with complications arising commonly. But all I could feel was the heat from the path his lips had been taking over my skin. The fabric had been feeling like silk against my skin until his touch had made everything I was wearing unbearable. The air around us would be too much as we finally came to our room.

Kenshin had given us quarters far enough away from everyone else, apparently, we were frequently disturbing him when it came to Yoshimoto’s thorough explorations as the door shut behind us. His touch was burning me up; I needed to feel his as Yoshimoto refused to rush anything. He was an expert in undoing clothing, though he always managed to make it look too sexy and beautiful to be anything aside from art as he nipped at my lower lip in reprimand. He knew when I was going to object to his slow pace, my obi sash falling like a waterfall of silks to the floor. It was my main line of defence against him gone before I was already pulling on his clothing to remove the offensive materials between us.

His slender fingers were cradling the back of my head, keeping me close as I could feel his skin heating against mine. One large hand slowly making its way down my spine. His tongue was making sure I was lost to his touch, playing me like his musical instrument before lowering me onto our shared futon. He refused to allow me any shame, covering up at the moment was a reflex habit of mine, embarrassed to be studied akin to artwork as his fingers glided from my back to my stomach. Any distance between us was too much as he reluctantly pulled back from my lips.

I was already a hot mess, a whine escaping my throat at the loss of contact before his expression told me to be quiet. He was studying me, admiring me in a way that I could only describe as primal.

“Such beauty,” he murmured, tracing a finger down my stomach before his glassy gaze locked into my eyes. A crafty smile, lowering his lips to my skin as he traced over my folds with the tips of his fingers. “I will ensure that even that horrendous crude of a flirt knows you are mine with your cries tonight,” he promised before his tongue found one of my nipples. My body was on fire; his other hand was caressing and teasing my breast that wasn’t under attack by his tongue, while his fingers curled in me deeply. Every breath he took was like watching an artist create, his devotion to his movements like a parent teaching a child as I felt my body coiling tighter around his ministrations.

“Yoshimoto,” I breathed, barely able to do anything except grinding my hips into his hand as his mouth and fingers swapped sides.

“I want to hear you,” he murmured, rolling my nipple between his teeth as his fingers began to thrust faster into me. “Sing for me, my beautiful bird,” he continued, a heavy-lidded gaze the only thing missing as my first orgasm was already wreaking havoc.

I didn’t know where the sheets went as the night passed into dawn. I had spotted the texts that Shingen was ‘helpfully’ leaving strewn about, and I knew most of what we had done wasn’t covered in those books. Even after a night of exertion hadn’t put a hair out of place on Yoshimoto, and I wasn’t allowed to leave his arms as I was coming down from my latest high. He had cum in me more than a few times; the man had plenty of stamina as he barely needed any recovery time. His lips were lazily kissing at my bared shoulders and neck, and the only thing I was allowed to wear was him. His arms were firmly around my waist, keeping me where he wanted as the song of the dawn breaking the silence of the outside world. I was pretty sure that there had been a few times when I would have been heard throughout the castle grounds, and even though Yoshimoto was usually not feeling like he should ‘marr my skin’, he had also seen fit to leave some territorial love bites on my neck that would be seen regardless of what kimono I wore.

“We should sleep,” I couldn’t help but shuffle, turning around in his arms to try and get comfortable for the task.

“I suppose it would be rude to keep you up after all your hard work,” Yoshimoto smirk was tempting, and irresistible as I kissed him softly. “Stay there, I’m only getting the sheets because your naked body is for my gaze alone,” he frowned, realising the same thing I had.

He made swans look ungraceful and clumsy as I watched him from our bed. He knew exactly where to look for what he wanted, before returning swiftly to his spot before the futon had time to cool. The clean sheet had been thrown over me, before he pulled it tightly behind him, not giving me a chance to pull away from his body. His arms were snuggly around my waist again, keeping me flush against him before his lips brushed against my forehead.

“I love you,” my eyes were getting too heavy to fight and keep them open.

“I love you too,” he nuzzled, sleep pulling us both under.

#Yoshimoto Imagawa #shingen takeda #Sasuke Sarutobi #yukimura sanada #kenshin uesugi #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikémen sengoku #smut

96 notes · View notes

iamalivenow · 5 years ago

Text

[can’t tag it but its explicit because of course it is]

“Build me my panopticon, and I'll give you everything you want.”

“Everything?” Robert watches the man sitting across from him. Even in the dim lighting, the low glow of the gas lamps in this quaint little establishment, Jonah Magnus manages to stand out brighter than any other living thing. “A high offer, certainly.”

“It would be so good for me.” Jonah sits upright, always proper, always delicate, immaculate, with his long sleeves and high collar. Every slip of skin felt like a treat he wasn't meant to be having. “So unbelievably good, my good sir. And the joy must spread, mustn't it? Workers? Sums? Simply ask and you'll receive it.”

His eyes- his eyes are so horrifically captivating. He feels drawn in, every single time. They're not even that vibrant, it would seem. The color on anyone else felt like nothing at all, but on Jonah- Robert finds him drawing them in the margins of his drafts more often than one would think. He finds himself frequently drawing all of Jonah, with his dark hair and his dark clothes and his captivating gorgeous eyes.

“Ah, well.” He smiles and catches Jonah's own grin for but a moment. “I wasn't aware that you were attached to the project.”

“I wasn't until recently. A sudden rather sharp change in management, as it were. But I've little interest in perusing the venture if your name is not attached.”

The food here is barely passable, and he hardly blames Jonah for not eating any of his. The ale is excusable, but they're both clearly gentlemen of standing, and if Jonah will not imbibe then neither shall he.

“Dare I ask if you are a fan?”

“Ask away.” Robert laughs, lifting a hand to his mouth.

“You're much too funny, Jonah. Much to funny.” His lips quirk up again, and that is simply a delight. “Yes, of course I'll take the work. Am I a fool to say no such a phenomenally lucrative offer?”

“Wonderful.” Jonah slides contract papers across the grimy table and Robert has to wonder why on earth someone as high standing as Jonah would ever invite someone to such a hole in the wall. Mayhap out of consideration? His estate was not too far, and certainly more sparing then a quick jaunt to Germany, or where ever it was that he was staying.

“I'll have the designs over as soon as Monday. Wednesday at the latest.” Jonah's beautiful eyes grow wide for a moment.

“So soon?” He clears his throat. “I appreciate it of course, more then anything but, you needn't rush for my sake.”

“Oh, I've been toying with ideas for some time now. And that aside.” He does call a waiter over to inquire of the whiskey offerings. Certainly Jonah would understand the need to celebrate. “I find myself rather inspired as of late.”

If he was more artistically inclined, he would rush to his estate for his canvas, while the image of Jonah Magnus smiling so brightly at him was still fresh in his mind.

…

They are in the onsite office, discussing materials when Robert sees Jonah pass down the hall.

“Ah, my good sir-” He nudges past his assistants and rushes to the hallway. “Pray, have you lost your way?”

Jonah turns from where he stands, a particularly dark navy riding coat on his slim waist, tucked into perhaps the whitest pair of trousers he's ever seen outside of a shop.

“No, no not at all.” He laughs at that, as if that's somehow the best joke he's heard in a few days. “Just-” He makes a hand gesture. “Taking it all in.”

“My office is-” Robert glances through the glass, at his two assistants still pouring over measurements. “I'm occupied with rather dull business at the moment, but if you've need of me I can make time.”

“Ah, I see.” Jonah crosses his arms and takes a moment to think. “I'm quiet alright actually, just checking in.” To say that Robert feels crest fallen is an understatement. “However, as I am here, I might as well ask now. I've been invited to a party this coming Friday, by the Lukas'. If you are not dreadfully busy, would you find the time to accompany me?”

Ah-

As in-

“Forgive me, I've not met them-” He's heard of them certainly. Most people have in their circles. But most people have not had any personal acquaintance. He honestly doesn't know why he's surprised by Jonah anymore. Every day the man finds new ways to fascinate him.

“They're rather reclusive.” He laughs to himself again. “Mordechai is friendly enough when you can draw him away from his studies. You will come won't you?”

“Ah- Yes, yes of course.” He had nothing to wear to meet someone like the Lukas' but that is rectifiable. A quick trip to the estate would rectify that hopefully. Laura would understand, these were the Lukas' they were talking about, after all. “Should I bring something along?”

“A jovial mood.” Jonah smiles. “Though, if you've in possession of a good cherry, I don't imagine it will be turned down either.”

The image flashes in his mind but for an instant but Robert can not help but linger on it. The two of them, close friends, confidants, sitting on a balcony in the late hours, two glasses between them. Robert can see the pale skin of his wrist, can feel the hot breath of Jonah's whispers on his ear. The two of them so close, and then Robert, turning to gaze into those eyes, like a man possessed he grips Jonah's chin and tugs him into a kiss.

“Of course.” It comes out barely more then a mumble. Bottle of cherry. A cheerful disposition. His mind lingers on the kiss, even when the rest of him reals, begging composer in front of the man, in front of his friend!

Jonah places a hand on Robert's shoulder, searing somehow, even through the layers of his waistcoat.

“Friday.”

He remains locked in the spot, nigh breathless until he could no longer hear Jonah's heals down the hallway. And then he did what any sensible gentleman would do in his circumstance, and rushed to his desk chair before he could faint on the floor.

…

The party was a rather raucous affair.

A most peculiar gentleman, much to lively for a man his age, had challenged the two of them, Robert and Jonah, to a game of darts almost as soon as they arrived which he won instantly, bullseye on every shot. Jonah had stood by and watched with amusement as Robert missed all but one, but the man, Fairchild, clapped him on the shoulder.

“You shouldn't play against him for money.” Jonah told him later, when the dancing had begun and both of them with out a partner, stood to the side. “He'll clean up every time.”

“Friend of yours?”

“Mm.” Jonah nods. “Old acquaintance.”

“And has he always been so-”

“Full of vigor?” Robert laughs. “I can't attest to the man's youth but for all I've known him he's been much the same. Wonderful artist.”

“Artist?” Of all the things he could have imagined, it certainly wasn't something so... sedentary that he would place on the man.

“Recently, he's been rather fascinated by trains.”

Trains...

“And how is it that you've come to know him?”

“Similar work, I suppose you could say.”

“Gossiping?” Robert jumps, not his finest moment. The man stands behind him almost as if he'd appeared out of thin air. “Is this him them? Your brilliant architect?”

Jonah had called him brilliant?

“Robert, this is Mordechai.”

“Ah, our host.” He holds his arm out and after a rather long moment, Mordechai shakes it. A peculiar man as well, but so different from Fairchild. Solidly built and rather imposing, hair already graying even as he seemed rather young. “A pleasure, Mr Lukas.”

Jonah, though, looking rather pleased with himself, called him brilliant?

Him?

“So well behaved.”

“Oh, Mordechai please. Not so early into the night.” Jonah looked embarrassed for some reason, a lovely look, a most lovely look. The thought of seeing just how deep that blush might travel left Robert breathless again. Where on earth was this coming from- Laura, Laura would certainly have quiet a few words to day, her father even more so. Lord, pray no one finds of these thoughts-

Pray Jonah never finds these thoughts of his, that they never spill out anywhere near the poor man.

Does his entire chest bloom in that exquisite red-

“Pardon me.” He bows briefly and turns away from the two friends. “My glass is almost empty.”

“Your glass- have of mine then, I'm not drinking tonight.” Jonah's voice does sound some distance away.

The taste of cherry on Jonah's lips, the taste of his tongue under the moonlight-

“I insist. And surely the two of you have some catching up to do, yes-” And as he rushes across the dance floor, he must imagine Mordechai echoing Jonah's earlier sentiment of how early it truly was.

The dance floor is lively, beautiful people twisting and turning in hypnotizing patterns. It's easy to become distracted from his goal of trying to find an servant, or mayhap a balcony to clear his mind.

Jonah on a chaise lounge, shirt unbuttoned and a blush that reaches low on his chest, the moonlight bathing him in an utterly divine radiance, hair splayed out, hands reaching up for Robert's face, to run a thumb along his lip and beg for more affection. For Robert's hands on his, running over the smooth planes of his body. For Robert's fingers to do the work of getting him out of those trousers and to put Robert's mouth to much better use then just gasping for air and whispering of Jonah's beauty. For more and more, for Robert to take him there and then, on a balcony adjacent to a crowded party and damned be who sees, for Robert to-

So mayhap not the balcony then.

“Are you alright, lad?” Ah, Fairchild again. How do people keep sneaking up on him? “Looking rather peaky there.”

“I'm quiet alright, just-”

“Catching your breath?” There's a grin on the man's face Robert doesn't appreciate all that much.

“Something like that.” Robert runs a hand down his front. “I don't suppose you've seen a servant- I've been searching-”

“So have they I imagine.”

Of all things, he doesn't find himself all that surprised at the riddles. They seem to be expected, for the evening he finds himself having.

“Ah, Jonah- Mr Magnus said you were a painter.” Anything to make small talk, anything to bring some shred of normalcy back to him. To erase even half of his brazenness.

“Mmhm.” He points up and Robert humors him.

The ceiling is a thing of spectacle, an endless sky so realistic he swears he sees the clouds drifting betwixt the chandelier.

“It's-” He finds himself at a loss for words. How could he have not even noticed, how could anyone hide a masterpiece such as this on a ceiling of all places? It's so easy to get lost in as well, an endless blue as real as the one outside- it's almost as if day time itself has been captured, tamed, and splashed over the ceiling.

“Breathtaking?” Jonah's voice rings out like a shot.

“Flatterer.” Fairchild laughs, slapping a hand on Jonah's back who just smiles back good naturedly. “It wasn't a gift for you.”

“That would be my honor, wouldn't it.” Mordechai laughs, here now too.

They're old friends, the three of them, clearly, why in the Lord's name would Jonah bring him along.

“But if you would like one, I'm sure I could break out the brushes again.”

“Mayhap another time, Simon.” Jonah had smiled, smiled, smiled again.

That damn beautiful smile.

Worse still, his eyes.

Robert felt so exceptionally small under those eyes.

“Pardon me, gentlemen.” Again, barely more then a mumble. “I- My wife is expecting me.”

“So soon?” Mordechai asks, a hand on Jonah's shoulder.

“I was potentially a little unclear on the events of the night.” He clears his throats. “I would hate to have her worry over a miscommunication.”

“Of course.” Jonah steps away from the other two men. “Allow me to walk you out?”

Say no.

Pray, Lord, the will to say one simple word.

“Certainly.”

Not that simple word.

…

He dreams of him now.

Well.

He dreams of the two of them, under an endless sky. The two of them in isolation, in tall grass, the only two left alive. Clouds rush overhead only to twist and turn into stars shining brightly and brilliantly. He dreams of Jonah whispering secrets that he can never remember when the morning comes.

Of Jonah's eyes on him, hungry.

Watching endlessly, almost never blinking as if he wants to drink all of Robert dry.

He wakes to an empty bed, and a quick run of his hand to his waist assures him that is a good thing. Bless Laura for being dutiful, for not asking him of his most absurd moods of late.

Jonah invites him out to have tea, and again, no does not come to him.

He wants to see him, is the worst of it. Mayhap not the worst, but it does feel to some degree unnatural. The pull between them.

“Robert.” Jonah stands from his seat, brushing his lap. “How pleased I am to see you again. Your wife was alright, yes?”

“My wife?” He sits across from him and gives his order to a waiter already at his side.

“The miscommunication?”

“The miscommu- oh, Oh, yes of course. She's very understanding, my Laura.” He smiles in way he hopes is convincing and not sickly or weak. Jonah smiles back, reaching forward to take Robert's hand in his.

He can see the pale skin of his wrist.

Jonah doesn't have a wife, some traitorous part of his brain supplies. Jonah has been a bachelor for a long time now. He lives alone, as far as Robert knows. No relatives to speak of, no servants. He travels between London and some tiny village in Germany frequently enough, but when Robert asked him about it months ago, Jonah had made clear it was of a visit of a friendly nature.

He can still see Jonah's wrist.

His face feels warm.

“How is the jail progressing?”

“The-”

Of course this a business meeting, yes, of course. Excellent. Wonderful. He could speak on the finer points of concrete and structural support and subtle design elements for hours on end, and threse no way his mind will drift off to any untoward places.

A thousand blessings on his chosen profession.

A thousand at least.

They spend the better part of the day discussing logistics, and that's fine. What isn't fine, what most assuredly will send him down yet another spiral of confusion, is that, despite what Robert initially thought, that Jonah was just attached to the project for the sake of investiture, Jonah. Jonah seemed. Interested.

And not only interested, but involved. Aware of terms, aware of expectations. So unlike the usual sponsors he spoke with, Jonah had opinions he wanted to contribute. At some point he asked the staff to bring him a paper and pencil and the man started drawing diagrams- the lines were straight! Straight!- at scale, with variation- one of them even explained how he had intended the lighting to work- and around the point when Jonah had mentioned wanting to bring in an electrician, Robert had to excuse himself to the wash room.

He looked a mess, splashing water onto his face and getting half of it down his shirt.

This man was going to put him into an early grave.

…

“Phenomenal!”

Jonah walked along the center chamber, running his bare hands along the walls.

“As we discussed.” Robert says. “To your specifications.” He looks so elated, Robert feels as if he might expire at any given moment.

“This, truly, this is everything I had ever hoped for. And look, look how-” Jonah throws his arms out. “How monumental it all it! How-” He waves a hand in the air. “Truly, Robert. Truly, your finest work.”

He climbs the stairs two at a go, in a rush to get to the observation deck and Robert does all he can to keep pace.

“I didn't imagine it would please you quite this much.” Thought the praise is nothing if not appreciated. “It's just a jail.”

“Just a- No-” Jonah stops on the stairs and grabs Robert's hand before tugging him the rest of the way. “Don't sell yourself so short, my good man, my best man.” He laughs. “You'll understand from up here, come, come, don't dawdle.”

“I swear I'm not.” Jonah laughs again, echoing through the empty space.

“It's not just a jail.” Jonah ushers him into the observation room. “This is-” He sighs and looks through the glass at all of the empty cells. “This is a seat of power.”

“Peculiar way of thinking of it.” Robert gasps for breath. Quiet a few bit of stairs there.

“But it is- this is going to change everything.” Jonah leans on one of the desks. “You could see everything they do, everything all at once, every movement, every whisper, practically every thought if you're attentive enough. At every moment, of every minute, of every day. Not a moment of peace, not a moment to yourself that isn't observed, that isn't cataloged. Nothing is secret, nothing is private, it's all for me-” Robert looks at him.

Really looks at him.

“For you?”

“Speaking metaphorically. As a guard.”

“Oh, of course.”

“But truly, this is-” He jabs his finger into the desk he's sitting on. “This is going to- god, Robert.” He smiles, wide. Dangerous, he thinks, oddly sharp for a man as soft as Jonah. “I promised you everything you wanted, do you remember? When we started?”

“Of course I do.”

Of course he does.

He has a feeling he couldn't forget even if he wanted to at this point.

“So what will you have? How could I possibly repay you for all of this- this majesty you've granted me.”

“You, the security guard.”

“Oh, no. No, me. This is a masterclass of architecture. To think I could aid you in it. To think you built it for me?” He drags the word out, hand on his chest. “Either way. What of everything shall you be having, my good man?”

“You.” He says.

It was truly, truly just him trying to catch up to the conversation. At the pace that Jonah was going on, all of the praise he had been heaping, all fo the metaphors, Robert had truly gotten a little lost along the way.

Jonah, though, for his part, as Robert's eyes go wide and he starts to mumble his way through a thousand apologizes, doesn't even look surprised.

And then he's in Robert's space, staring for a moment, and then kissing him.

Robert is certain he tastes the cherry.

“Everything you want.” Jonah says, one hand already working the buttons on Robert's slacks.

“What are you-” Jonah kisses him again, teeth along his lip that makes his head spin.

“You think I don't notice how you stare sometimes?” Well he was really rather hoping Jonah hadn't. “Like I'm that damn ceiling in Lukas' manor? Like you want to fall into me and disappear?”

“I'm sorry-” He begins- before there's a hand over his mouth- Jonah's soft hand.

Touching his face.

“Don't be. You think I don't want you to?”

“You like being stared at?”

Jonah laughs.

“You're wonderful.” Jonah says and returns to the buttons. “Truly. After this-” He points between the two of them. “I'll teach you some secrets, hm?”

“Secrets-”

“About why I wanted you so desperately-” He drops his knees and before Robert even has the sense to fully realize what is about to happen, Jonah has his hand around his cock, giving him a few strokes before opening his mouth licking at the head. “To build this prison for me.”

“Jonah-” Robert grips the desk behind him, fingers digging into the wood. “You don't- for the love of God, you don't have to-”

“Oh, but I want to.” And then Robert's cock is in his mouth, and what a mouth, what a mouth. His tongue is the only thing in the entire world and Robert wants nothing more then to just stay here, frozen for all eternity. And he's staring again, Jonah is, the same hungry way he stares in the dreams. In his visions of that all too elusive balcony. “I wanted to at the party, at your office, at that filthy decrepit excuse of a restaurant.”

“Oh-” It's a moan that escapes him now, an even louder one follows when Jonah is back to licking the head of his cock, swirling his tongue around like it's a sweet. “Jonah-”

“I was wondering, how long it would take for you to realize I wanted you too. If you were bold enough to shove me onto my knees there and then, make all of them stare, make all of them watch while I sucked your cock.” The possibility seemed to far removed at the time. “But now, you've given me such a phenomenal gift, I forgive you entirely for the wait.”

“Jonah- Jonah-” The only word on his tongue now is this man's name. Have there ever been any other words? Has all of the English language been created just so he could utter Jonah's name with enough reverence in this singular moment?

“A genius, ahead of his time.” He places a kiss on it, as if that's something one does, and then takes all of Robert into his mouth. All of him truly, until Robert feels what must be the velvet skin of the back of his throat. He bobs his head back, until his face is brushed up against his pant leg. One of Jonah's hands grips his thigh, hard enough to bruise.

“Jo-Jonah-” Robert gasps for air, one of his own hands leaning down to run it through Jonah's dark hair. Jonah pulls off for but a moment.

“Grip it. Harder, yes just like that.” And then he's back, sliding the entire length of his cock along his mouth and into his throat. That wet heat is everything, his entire being, all and all and all of him. “I'm not breakable, pull like you- ah!- that's it- that's it-”

“Is- Is it truly alright?” He is pulling rather had- but all he gets is a nod and a hum, and oh, he feels the vibrations all the way up his spine. It makes his toes curl in his boots. It makes him grip Jonah's hair hair.

Jonah does- does something with his tongue just at the very head and it makes his toes curl again, his eyes fluttering shut and another long sigh escaping his mouth. His thigh is slapped and his eyes fly open- Jonah smirking up at him through his long lashes.

Alright, so he'll just keep his eyes open then- all the better- certainly all the better with how red Jonah's lips are getting, with his eyes watering just a smidge. He feels like he's about to spill over- from the tightness in his belly and the way his hips start to jerk to meet him, he must be.

When he does spill, and he does rather quickly after the thought, it's right against the back of Jonah's throat. Jonah grips his other thigh, breathes through his nose and swallows every drop, before pulling off of him with a satisfied grin on his face, a hand wiping at the saliva on his chin.

Again, the desire to rush home, to grab paints he doesn't own and spread them on a canvas are so strong- to commemorate this moment, every moment they've had together- is so strong he barely knows what to do with himself.

“Will you take me in hand?” Jonah's risen at some point, mouth close his ear. A quick glance down confirms the warm bulge grinding against Robert's thigh all to inviting to neglect. He fumbles the buttons with significantly less grace then Jonah had his own, but Jonah is patient, hips jutting forward every now and then in impatience. Finally, he gets him free. “Lick your hand first.”

Robert does as he's told, and for a singular moment there may be a part of him struggling with the revelation that he is about to touch another man's cock, but it's a quiet part, and the moment is gone quickly.

He is so warm, and heavy in his palm, head already dripping- the thought that he had gotten aroused from sucking Robert's cock- that Jonah- Jonah- his Jonah would have gotten hard from something like that makes him feel as if he's been set ablaze.

“Jonah-”

“As you would yourself-” And he does, stroking him as if his life depended on it. Jonah's arms are over his shoulders, his palms on the back of his neck. He's panting- he's making Jonah pant, gasp, jerk his hips into his grasp- he feels dizzy, but he doesn't dare close his eyes. Jonah- Jonah likes being watched, then so be it. It's all he can do in the moment, especially when his hand still for but a second and Jonah whines right in his ear.

“Jonah-”

“I-I'm loathe to beg- b-but if you want that of me-” He gasps, hips jolting forward again. “Then please, please, please, Robert-”

“Jonah-”

“Please-”

Robert grasps him a little tighter, and stares down at the red of his cock and Jonah moans in his ear, fucking his hand until his climax, a sharp and punched thing, ends in a groan, resting his head on Robert's shoulder.

“Are- Are you alright?”

“I'm phenomenal. Just- catching my breath.”

Once they are presentable and clean again, Jonah stares out the windows with a smile on his face. His lips still a little red, stained with his effort.

“That was-”

“Mordechai is throwing another little get-together, this coming Friday.” Jonah glances at him. “Mayhap this time you'll stay long enough to allow me the pleasure of showing you the view from the balcony.”

Robert-

A lot of things go through his mind all at once, nervous and jittery and oddly calm at the same time. How did he know, did he know or was that just an assumed spot for these sorts of things, had he knows the whole time before even Robert himself knew, had he some how orchestrated this entire thing, did his friends know, is that what the teasing about, was he being serious while he was on his knees, why did he know so little when Jonah seemed to know so much?

“I would love to.”

#the magnus archives #writing #fanfic #long post #i blacked out and wrote this in four hours

29 notes · View notes

zweiginator · 6 years ago

Text

Orange Juice Kisses

Brian May x Reader

Summary: Life is duller when the love of your life is away on tour. Home doesn’t seem like home, and his sweatshirts are never enough. So when he comes back, your feelings for each other don’t have words to do them justice.

Word Count: 3.5k+

Warnings: Mentions of domestic fluff but really it’s just filthy “I missed you” sex (oral f&m receiving, unprotected sex, dirty talking, teasing, a splash of dom Brian

Author’s Note: Okay, I wrote this in 2 hours; I wanted to get something out for valentine’s day and I needed an excuse to not study for my three exams tomorrow so here you go my loves! (That means I didn’t proofread it so excuse the errors i KNOW are there)

The sun was beginning to descend upon the horizon, and staticky rays of light were bleeding into the clouds, oozing into yellows that changed to oranges and pinks until a cocktail of warmth enveloped the sky you hoped your boyfriend was looking at too. Your fingers traced along your sternum, where a silver necklace--his necklace--laid upon it, pressed with your fingerprints and his too--they were more ridged and elongated and buried under yours. But you convinced yourself they were there. You tilted your head back and thought about your DNA converging, overlapping on the cool charm that hung from the thin chain and wished he was tethered to you--that he never had to leave. You had felt a perpetual coldness in your being for months now, and that your house was only a shell, something in which to maintain homeostasis--but it wasn’t a home. That honorable label was torn from the cherrywood door whenever Brian’s feet padded over the rug as he sent you a lazy apologetic smile over his shoulder, where the curled tendrils of his messy hair brushed along the youthful skin. Your sheets were sheathed in a dull, grey bitterness that made you curl up in your comforter that you usually slept without; Brian was always so warm. You sniffled as a stagnant lump bobbed in your throat that was raw from crying so frequently throughout the week. You hated to feel so dependent on a man for your comfort, for your sanity--but you couldn’t help the six-foot-two hole that was carved out of you, taking more out of you than was even there to begin with. There was nothing you didn’t miss about Brian, and you sobbed into your arm as you recalled your personal archetype of a Saturday morning with him: waking up entangled in one another and kissing until you both couldn’t breathe and your lips were feathered in the same shades of purples that bruised the clouds you were still watching fleet across the morning sky. Running bubble baths and sitting between his legs while he kissed your shoulders and hummed in your ears, running warm water over your neck as he lathered your body with citrusy soap. Making him fresh orange juice while he toasted bread and slathered the pieces with jam, sitting you on the counter to feed you “the most important meal of the day”--which he never failed to mumble in his groggy morning voice, peppering orange-juice kisses on the side of your mouth, poking his tongue out to lick the raspberry residue from your lips.

Things always got harder when you knew he’d be back soon--as regressive as that seemed. Knowing he could stomp through the door at any moment-- and tap off his umbrella as he spewed compliments and praises to you, pumped with the deepest vows of his love and affection--was enough to keep you waiting at the door like a starving dog. And you did just that as soon as you got out of bed; you wrapped yourself in a knitted blanket, made by Brian’s mother as a housewarming gift and slumped on the couch, pulling the hood of Brian’s sweatshirt over your head as you watched a movie on TV. It was an arbitrary program on space exploration, and you knew that Brian had probably seen it countless times before because you recognized the voice of the narrator as one you had heard on the cusp of sleep, your head in Brian’s lap as he ran his fingers through your hair, his mouth parted as he watched the tv intently, his jaw tensed with anticipation and awe. You felt your eyes begin to flutter shut as your eyelids seemed to be weighed down by the tiring forces of helplessness, of feeling so lost without the person who understood you the most.

It couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes later when you heard the soft click of the door hinge, and then a characteristic sigh, a crinkling of a thin coat. You blinked a few times to adjust your eyes, and you were almost hesitant to open them, not wanting the sounds to be an evil trick of your unconscious fabricating twisted illusions of what you yearned for so much. But as your lenses cleared of the fluids pooling in your eyes, you saw his figure--tall and lithe--advancing towards the couch in languid steps, a relaxed smile adorning his partially chapped lips. His hair was messier than usual; it was severely tousled by the wind and it fell over his forehead and upon the dips of his collarbones as he yawned, unbuckling his belt to rid himself of his jeans. He always did this when he came home, and for some reason it was this action that convinced you that Brian was home-- really and truly home.

“Bri?” You lifted your head from the arm of the couch and rubbed your eyes, pushing the blanket off of your shoulders to stretch your arms.

“I missed you so much angel.” He didn’t even greet you, he just laid his head on your shoulder, sitting cross-legged beside you as his arms hugged your torso. You finally felt a veracious warmth swaddling your entire body as he cuddled into you, his heartbeat as vivacious as the bouncing of his curls as he choked back hot, awaiting tears.

“I missed you more, I guarantee it.” You twirled your fingers in his hair, running your nails along his scalp. His head was a needed heaviness upon your shoulder, but it was soon lifted as Brian rose his head to press a lazy kiss to your shoulder.

“Don’t think that’s possible, bub.” Brian pulled his hoodie off from one of your shoulders, looking up at you as he pecked your shoulder again, your hand instinctively reaching for his curls, pulling at the deep brown locks, thick and textured on your fingers. He rested his palms on either side of your thighs as he lifted his head more, his lips brushing against your own, ticklish and wet from his spit. Both of your hearts were pounding, your bodies seemingly pulsed with excessive anticipation; you both knew this one kiss would catalyze the arousal and passion bubbling up in the pits of your stomachs, that these months of wishes and longings would have to be realized at the touch of your eager mouths.

It was Brian who broke the gap, closing it by tangling his long--longing--fingers into your hair, pulling your head forward so your lips meshed with his. He pushed his tongue in between your lips and kissed you so deeply, so wetly, so passionately and messily that you whimpered as his other hand pushed against the small of your back, pulling you onto his lap, your tummies flush with each other’s as he bit softly at your bottom lip. Your noses grazed against each other, the tips of them numb in comparison to the impossibly heightened sensitivity of your bruising lips. His day-old stubble scratched against your chin as he kissed down your neck, pulling your hair back behind your shoulders to expose the column of your throat more for him. You gasped as he sucked and kissed at the skin where your collarbones met, feeling your pulse quivering underneath as his tongue flitted across the reddened skin. His thumb found the zipper of his hoodie, pulling it down quickly and impatiently. He kissed your sternum, his lips smacking against the necklace of his still hung loosely around your neck.

“All mine.” He marveled at your exposed breasts; his hoodie was pooled on the floor beside the couch, and his tongue found your hardened nipples, taut from the waves of white-hot arousal pulsing through your needy body. He traced his tongue around the bud and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to one, his hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin as he found your other nipple, giving it the same deliberately teasing treatment. His arms hooked around your waist again, his lips firm against your stomach as he laid you down across the couch. He rested on his stomach, adjusting his position as he lifted himself up on his elbows, hoisting your legs over his shoulders. “Let me make you cum.” He blinked, averting his gaze to your own eyes, which were blown wide as you sat up on your elbows like he was, shallow breaths escaping from your lungs which felt trapped inside of you and too narrow for the heavy breaths you needed to take. “Do you want my mouth?” He asked you, his air blowing over your core, still covered by your thoroughly soaked panties.

“Mhmm.” You mustered, nodding, scooting your hips forward so his bottom lip was rubbing against your clothed clit. He smiled at you lazily, his canines poking at the corner of his mouth as he hooked his fingers around the hem of your panties, yanking them down your legs. He teased you with his breath, watching you writhe as you felt the almost dense air wisp over your clit, down your shaky thighs. He watched you through his lashes as he brought his mouth forward, his nose nudging at your throbbing clit as his tongue licked a flat stripe against your folds, gathering your wetness on his tongue which was already soaked by saliva. He poked the tip of his tongue into your hole, the top of it stimulating your clit directly as he maneuvered his head expertly. “Bri--Brian.” You stumbled, moaning loudly as you tilted your head back, your chest heaving as much as it was covered with a blotch of red--all from Brian’s teasing ministrations on your awaiting body.

“Yes, pretty girl?” He pressed a firm kiss to your pussy and looked into your eyes almost menacingly, reaching his hands up to play with your nipples.

“Don’t stop--” You begged. “Why did you stop?” You reached into his hair, and as much as he loved to feel your hands pulling at him desperately while he pleasured you, he grabbed your wrists, intertwining his fingers with yours, pinning your hands to the couch beside your hips.

“You’re so needy for me,” He cooed, his nose millimeters away from your clit as he spoke deftly. “Your little pussy is pulsing. You want me so bad, don’t you?”

You had never seen him--heard him--be so dominant, so cocky. But you had to admit it was hot; you were dripping onto the couch, and Brian was making sure you knew it. “Yes--Brian, fuck. I need you, please!” You pleaded with him, furrowing your eyebrows and pouting softly; you were truly aching for him.

“God, you’re soaked.” He chuckled, gasping as your hips bucked in attempt to get any sort of stimulation on your pussy. “You’re making a mess, angel.”

You mewled, digging your nails into the back of his hands, which were becoming clammy; you were holding them so tightly. “Please,” You nodded, hoping to finally persuade him.

“Can’t say no to that face--so perfect.” He praised, and before you could react, his tongue was fucking into you, his nose pressed against your clit, which you felt was throbbing against it, aching to cum. You tightened your grip on his hands that had loosened when he finally began to pleasure you again, rocking your hips so his nose was flicking your bundle of nerves as his tongue pushed into your hole, licking up all the wetness you were giving him. He moaned into you, dragging his tongue up to play with your clit, the very tip of it stimulating underneath the hood so it swirled directly onto the most sensitive part of you, sending jolts of pleasure up your arched spine.

“Fuck--Brian.” You moaned, biting your bottom lip to muffle the screams stuffed down your throat, fluttering with your quickened pulse. “Your tongue feels so good.” Your back arched further off of the couch as he flicked it with precision, making prolonged eye contact with you, his eyes hooded and a deeper hazel than you’d ever seen before.

“Yeah? You like my tongue on your clit?” He fed into your pleasure with his words that seemed to tighten the building pressure in your pussy, your tummy, your hands, even. He kept watching you as he wrapped his lips around the nerves, sucking on it gently, his teeth grazing against it as his tongue rubbed along the velvety pink skin.

“I-” You scratched harshly on his hands, your eyes rolling back as you felt your orgasm rising like dense fog, permeating your insides as he suckled on your clit. “I’m so close--please don’t stop.” You ground your hips more, and Brian let go of your hands, pushing his own into your hips as he sucked harder, stroked his tongue harder.

“Pull my hair.” He commanded, and you obliged immediately, yanking his curls until his nose was pushed against you. He grunted as your nails scratched at his scalp, egging him on more. “Come on, perfect girl. Cum so I can lick it all up. Let me taste you.” He was now fucking you with his tongue again, his fingers rubbing hard circles on your clit. Your legs were shaking as he delved his tongue deep between your folds, the calluses of his fingertips textured and ridged on your hypersensitive bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, Brian. I’m cumming!” You gasped as his tongue prodded deep inside of you, your cum coating it, your walls hugging it as he moaned against you, smiling as the taste pervaded his mouth and slid down his throat as he swallowed. It took a minute for you to recover--but you never really did. You still felt on the hazy edge of an orgasm as you pulled Brian’s head up, shoving your tongue in his mouth and massaging his with it. You tasted him; it was a cocktail of you and your signature orange-juice kisses--he must have had some that morning. You nibbled on his bottom lip a bit, pulling at his collar while your other hand unbuttoned his severely wrinkled shirt, pulling it off of his shoulders, freckled from the sun. You ran your hands down his chest before palming him through his thin, grey briefs, gasping into his mouth as you felt how hard he was, and then a soaking wet spot by the waistband, where spurts of precum were oozing from his slit. You pulled his briefs down his legs, squeezing his thighs as you sat on your feet in front of him on the couch. His cock slapped against his stomach, a deep red and throbbing at the touch. Your fingers ghosted over the shaft, and he hissed at your soft fingertips tracing over the prominent vein on the underside of his length. “Oh my God.” His lips were parted, his hands pushing the hair that fell over your eyes, wanting to watch you as you did the same to him. “I’ve missed those lips around my cock.” He rocked his hips up, and your bottom lip grazed against his shaft, your eyelashes fluttering teasingly. He gathered your hair in his hands and he choked out a deep moan when you grabbed his dick, spitting over the tip, watching your saliva spill down the sides of his cock as you began to suck on the head, precum pumping into your mouth as you stroked him up and down and up and down again. You teased your tongue around the ridges of his tip, the skin soft and sensitive and velvety. Your fingers felt his heartbeat along the veins that ran up his shaft, and he began to buck his hips more and more when you took him all the way into your mouth; he couldn’t believe he went so long without feeling your wet lips wrapped around him, your hands jerking him off as you sucked him tightly, your eyes watching him so closely, so intimately. You took him deeper, until his tip pushed against the back of your throat, and your eyes began to water profusely, dripping down your cheeks as you whimpered around him, the vibrations making his eyes roll back. “Jesus Christ, you’re taking me so well.” He pulled your hair more. “You like my cock deep--” He stuttered as your throat tightened around him. “You like my cock deep in your throat?”

You nodded, watching him through tear-soaked eyelashes as you bobbed your head, before you pulled off of him completely, a trail of spit and a few dribbles of cum coating your mouth and down the entirety of his aching cock. “I love it.” You scooted up further, jerking him off, your grip tight. You brought your lips down again, sucking on his tip, hollowing your cheeks as you ran your tongue over his leaking slit. He groaned, taking his hands out of your hair and gripping the cushions of the couch instead, lazily fucking your mouth as you watched his eyelids become heavy, fluttering shut when your teeth slightly touched his most sensitive areas.

“I’m gonna cum--fuck, you’re so good at that.” He nodded, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. You leant forward as you popped your lips off of him; your--his--necklace bounced over his shaft as you pressed one last open-mouthed kiss over his tip. “Good girl. You know where I want my cum.” He pulled you up onto the couch again, pulling your legs over his shoulders for the second time, lining his teased cock to your entrance, pushing in forcefully. You were hot and wet and tight around him, and he threw his head back, squeaking a moan out as he fucked into you, never taking his eyes away from yours. He watched his dick slide in and out of you, slicked by your spit and the beginnings of his orgasm. He began to thrust faster, his skin slapping against yours, sticking by the sweat that both of your bodies were sheathed in. His thumb rubbed frantic circles on your clit, and he bent down, kissing your chin and then your lips, your legs now hooked around his waist, your feet pushing his ass so he angled deeper into your throbbing hole. You hugged his cock so tightly his next breath was strangled in his throat; he gasped into your mouth as he nodded, his hair tickling your forehead. “I’m cumming; fuck you feel so good.” He chanted your name, his thumbs running over your collarbones as he spilled his load inside you, ropes of his cum pulsing over your walls as you rolled your hips into his, your moans mingling within each other’s kissed mouths. He was idle inside of you, still spilling more of his seed into you as he attempted to catch his breath.

“I love you.” He kissed the corner of your mouth and groaned as one more pulse emptied him completely, his body slumping onto yours. “I missed you.”

“I love you, Brian.” You petted his hair, reaching down to squeeze his butt, which made him smile against your shoulder. “And I missed you every single second of the day, everyday.”

He lifted his head and pressed a firm kiss to your mouth, licking his lips as he pulled away, his eyebrows knitted in confusion. “You taste like orange juice.” He noted.

“You taste like orange juice.”

“I had some at the hotel this morning,” He winced, shaking his head. “Wasn’t as good as yours though. Could never be.”

___

taglist: @mercurys-bike @alexfayer @ledger-kaos @ma-ntequilla @discodeakky@richiethotzierz @thisloveisreal1 @heartsarecompatible @thelondondreamer5@brian-may-brian-may @okqueenie @gailymlee @trickster-may@bubblypenguin123 @queensdarlingg @soloosunflower @dvndermifflinassociate @fredthelegend @miez-lakatz @arrowswithwifi @mouse507 @mespetitestortues @yourstateofdreaming @pamoreno@helenathe3rd @allie-of-asgard @deacytits @hystericallyqueen@missqueeniewrites @mxzzello @bulsarahutton @paper-queer-plane @xilann@silvver-rose @crazylittlethingcalleddub-step @blushy-monkey @ladycataztrophe @rprpprprprppr @myfairybrian (message me if you want to be added i’m awful at taglists and tumblr in general)

#brian may #brian may smut #queen #brian may fanfic #brian may x reader #bohemian rhapsody #gwilym lee #borhap

586 notes · View notes

itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

Note

(1/2) Personally, I could never get into Geralt's relationship with Yennefer when I started reading the books. The first thing we learn about their relationship in The Last Wish, is that he broke up with her because he couldn't stand her possessiveness and the way she treated him. That was massive red flag on it's own already, but then I got to the scene in The Bounds of Reason where Geralt tells her that he doesn't care anymore if she forgives him for breaking up with her. And he's

I’ve finished up my work for the day so I’m going to break this down to pass the time lol. My journey with Yennefer of Vengerberg has basically been:

Hearing about her prior to getting into Witcher stuff and being legitimately excited to meet this sexy, badass sorceress that everyone is head over heels for.

Meeting her in The Witcher 3 and hating nearly every moment we spent together (with a few exceptions) because she is rude, self-centered, cares little for the boundaries of others (like frequently invading Geralt’s mind), and will destroy everyone and everything necessary to get what she wants. The fact that what she currently wants is Ciri’s safety doesn’t change how horrible her actions are.

Getting reassurance that CDPR butchered her characterization and believing it because when has an adaptation not messed something up? God knows that’s happened to many of my faves.

Reading The Last Wish for myself and going, “She’s not better here. She worse.”

Coming to the Realization™ that Sapkowski, as an author very interested in undermining fantasy tropes, must be deconstructing the concept of True Love/Love At First Sight. After all, we’re not actually supposed to believe that a woman who treats Geralt like Yen does, a man who is canonically so lonely he’s picking up bards on the side of the road, and the both of them being bound together by highly suspect magic is supposed to be representative of real, healthy, destined love. These two are incredibly dysfunctional together and the point is for them not to stay as a couple, demonstrating that neither the characters nor the reader can bank on tired structures (like Hot Male Protagonist meeting Hot Female Protagonist) as evidence of “true love.” Sexual attraction and a djinn wish does not a healthy relationship make.

The further, disappointing realization that this is not, in fact, the point Sapkowski is trying to make. Or if it somehow is he hasn’t done a good job of writing it.

Struggling with other aspects of the series, notably how many of the women are written/treated. Finding it difficult to get into the main story-line. Coming to the conclusion that, like Doyle, I massively prefer Sapkowski’s style in a short-story format.

Deciding to put the books on hold for a while and check out some other material. Maybe I’ll like Yen in the comics!

I do not like Yen in the comics. Neither does Vesemir.

I post a few times about this dislike and marvel at how often events are twisted to paint Yen as a victim. One moment stands out regarding Yen dumping you in the lake in Witcher 3. When I expressed discomfort that she would do this to Geralt and then “jokingly” threaten to kill him next, someone basically asked me, “Well, did you pick the dialogue option where you’re an asshole to her?” It was asked with such confidence that for a moment I floundered. Had I chosen something that justified such treatment? Yet this is the exchange:

“Yen... Told you already. I lost my memory.”

“And I’ve lost my patience.”

(Side note: Yen is fully aware of how much Geralt despises portals.)

I begin to realize that a lot of the fandom truly believes that “Expressing a fact” equals “Being an asshole” to Yen. That any disagreement is automatically asshole behavior. Which is how Yen herself views the world. As fans have pointed out – myself included – she has a habit of rejecting responsibility and convincing others she’s the victim in most situations (with the one exception I can think of being her admitting that she destroyed the sacred site in Skellige), whether we’re talking about her condemning Geralt for sexualizing her (ignoring that she orchestrated that situation) or likewise condemning him for leaving her (ignoring that her behavior is what drove him away). I find myself re-emphasizing to others that my issue is not with flawed characters, but rather how Sapkowski’s story and the fandom insist that Yen isn’t actually flawed in these ways.

Watching the Netflix adaptation and promising myself that I’m going to give Yen a clean slate. Let’s start over. I connect with her for the first few episodes and then everything falls apart once she starts blaming others for her own decisions, getting obsessed with a biological child in a world filled with adoptions, abandoning a woman to die because she dared to insult her, having to re-watch her taking over Geralt’s mind only this time with an orgy that’s super iffy in regards to consent… There’s a lot going on there.

My friend – who knew I disliked a character but didn’t know who/why because I didn’t want to bias her ahead of time – slams into my texts talking about how much she hates Yen too.

I make a few more posts expressing my personal discomfort with their relationship + how the fandom tends to erase her behavior for endless praise, rather than just acknowledging that they love the ship and Yen has done horrible things. I get a couple of anons (which I delete) about how I’m just a misogynistic – and now racist – asshole who can’t understand how badass she is.

I grapple with the fact that my primary ships are indeed Geralt/Jaskier and Geralt/Regis. Maybe I am drawn only to Hot White Guys and have internalized misogyny to work through? Then I remember the hundreds of other het/femslash ships I adore, the thousands of other badass women in media – including the Witcher – that I love and conclude that no, I just really don’t like relationships where parties are cruel/disrespectful/borderline abusive to one another. Hence why I criticized Netflix for taking an already wonderful relationship between Geralt and Jaskier and making Geralt insult him all the time/punch him.

More and more I find myself uncomfortable with fans taking scenes where Yen verbally accosts someone, assaults them, or otherwise does them dirty and talk seriously about how they aspire to be her. I experience an intense need to remind everyone that being a badass and standing up for yourself does not mean treating people the way Yen frequently treats others.

I read a lot about how many fans can’t get behind a Geralt/Triss pairing because of how Triss treated him in the past, even if she’s now improved. I completely agree. I wonder though why the same doesn’t seem to apply to Yen. I’m told I just need to read more of the books (which I’m honestly not eager to do) because she gets so much better later on. Don’t you care about character growth? When I respond, “Yes, but even if she does grow I’m not comfortable with that relationship because of all she’s done in the past – to say nothing of what she does in the future if we take the games as canon too.” That response does not go over well. So Triss’ past actions justify a reader’s discomfort with the relationship, but Yen’s past actions have to be forgiven? Witcher and RWBY are the only fandoms I’ve come across where women can commit truly heinous acts and the response is “Yas queen!” rather than, “Huh, that’s a cool antagonist.”

As I work through these differing opinions I’m constantly reminded that Yen is an excellent mother to Ciri and each time I wonder what bearing that has on how she treats Geralt.

I’m likewise reminded of all the Big and Important sacrifices Yen has made for her family. Those deserve acknowledgment! But it doesn’t change her everyday behavior. Even if Yen stopped pulling shit like mind control, torture necromancy, and scaring people to the point where they assume she’ll rain fire down on them if they disagree, she just doesn’t extend basic kindness/respect on a day-to-day basis. Some people love that in a character. I personally don’t. I find Yen to be a vain person who puts her own self-comfort over others’ lives just as often as she deigns to save them. Dandelion is just going to have to wait until she’s had a bath before his curse is lifted. Margarita will have to do without her help because Yen doesn’t want to get her clothes dirty:

“Mucking through ruins and sewers, hmm. I’d rather leave it to the expert.”

“Meaning you’d rather waltz in once the hard work’s done.”

I finally finish The Witcher 3 and find Yen tolerable from the boat onward, mostly because we don’t have to do much with her.

I start the first Witcher game, wondering how I’ll find her in the first two installments. Frankly, at this point I’m not terribly optimistic.

And every once in a blue moon, in a sea of post-Netflix Yen adoration, I see a post going, “Hey, ship what you ship but can we just acknowledge that this relationship isn’t the happy-go-lucky, super healthy, #goals pairing that most of the fandom wants to paint it as?” and I’m compelled to reblog :D

#hauntedcollectorapple #witcher #mymetas

44 notes · View notes

langdvnshepherd · 6 years ago

Text

Lilo (Jim Mason x fem!reader)

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: sub!Jim, fem!reader, angst city baby (this is sad as fuck I'm sorry I had to do it to em), mentions of drug use, smut, tummy riding, cockwarming, fluff (I suppose), the timeline for TTOPV is slightly off in this but it’s not too far gone

A/N: Oop sorry I haven’t posted in a hot minute, but I’m back! This has been in my drafts since like....three weeks after I started this blog, I just never got around to finishing it until now. Loosely inspired by Lilo by The Japanese House! I love this song so much, and it reminded me of Jim for some reason??? Anyways, here ya go! As always, let me know what you think! Send any requests or comments my way.

The vibrations of her cell phone rattling against the nightstand broke her concentration away from her laptop. She’d spent the hot, summer evening indoors picking out curtains and area rugs that would match the bedspread of her new apartment. After deciding she’d procrastinated long enough, she forced herself to hunker down and finalize any last minute details before she transferred universities and moved away from Palos Verdes.

A photo of her boyfriend illuminated her phone’s screen. It was one of her favorites: his mouth hung open and head thrown back in the middle of a laugh, nose scrunched, eyes closed and crinkled at the corners. She could recall the origin of the photo vividly. The two of them had made a day trip down the coast to a beach where he swore the waves were better, but she couldn’t tell a difference. In the exact moment that she’d raised her camera, a seagull swooped down and snatched her sunglasses right off of her head, sending him into a contagious giggle fit. She missed that smile. It was genuine and loving, and not something she saw very often these days. He seemed like he’d been holding his breath lately; like something was bothering him, but he wasn’t ready to talk about it just yet.

A deep sigh left her body as she pressed the phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N.” He already sounded upset. She could hear his heavy breathing through the speaker and the slamming of a door in the background. A stirring feeling rose in her stomach at the thought of what the reasoning was behind his phone call.

“Hi, Jim.” She didn’t want to set him off, which had been happening a lot recently. The fights with his mother had been occurring what seemed like every day now, withering his patience down to the point of nonexistence. Either that or he had gotten into it with one of the boys down by the beach; they always managed to get him fired up in a hurry.

“Are your parents home?”

“No, they left this morning to help my grandparents move. Why? You want to come over?”

He was quiet for a moment. The sounds of his shallow breaths being the only noise in the otherwise awkward silence.

“Uh...yeah. Can I actually stay over? I miss you.” His voice grew softer as he spoke, as if he felt bad for even asking. He slept over frequently, and he knew he didn’t have to ask before stopping by. The ‘I miss you’ at the end was just out of habit, she knew that wasn’t the reason. If she had to guess, it was Sandy. She always managed to send him over the edge. It tore her up inside to picture the heartbroken look on his face every time she hurled insult after insult at him.

“Of course. I’m in my room. The key’s in the flower pot, just let yourself in.”

“Yeah, okay,” he paused before he spoke again. “I’ll be over soon... Love you.”

“Love you too, Jimmy.” She locked her phone before tossing it across the comforter and flopping down on the bed on her back.

This wasn’t how she’d planned to spend her evening. She was hoping to finish the night off with a bubble bath and a face mask, not keeping Jim company while he sobbed into her chest. It wasn’t that he annoyed her, that was quite the opposite. She was transferring universities after having been accepted into a research program in her field of interest. But leaving town and moving out of her parent’s house also meant that she’d be leaving Jim behind when she went.

She’d tried to convince him so many times to come with her, to get out of Palos Verdes and away from the toxicity of his fucked up family. He always insisted that he didn’t have a choice, that he had to stay here. Despite how cruel his mother could be towards him, he fully believed that she wouldn’t make it without him and that Medina would be left to endure her wrath if he left. Leaving Jim, as inevitable as it was, was the last thing she wanted to think about. She’d kept it on the back-burner of her brain for as long as she could manage. Having him there, in her room, would make all of those feelings resurface and allow panic to take over.

When Jim didn’t show after half an hour, she began to worry. She’d assumed when he called and she heard the door slam that it meant he’d be right over, but there was still no sign of him. This only further provoked the dark thoughts that lurked within her. She’d never confronted him about it, but she knew he had a problem with pills. At first, she’d only ever seen him take them at parties. Assuming mixed with alcohol it made for a more fun high, she didn’t think anything of it. He was giggly and touchy and chatty, and she didn’t mind. It was how she’d met him in the first place. Her friend introduced her to him at one of her famous beach bashes the same week Jim first moved to Palos Verdes, where party drugs were in abundance. ‘You’ll love him!’ she drunkenly exclaimed that hot, muggy night. Boy, was she right.

She first began to notice little changes in his behavior when shit hit the fan with his parents. He was impatient, agitated all of the time. His eyes were always slightly glassy, his jaw always rigid. Even if it was just the two of them watching a movie in his room, he’d always be slightly sticky, a thin veil of sweat covering the curves and ridges of his soft skin. She’d seen him like this plenty of times, but never in a casual setting. He’d brush off any remarks of hers, insisting that she need not worry.

The fallout between his parents had taken a huge toll on him, he had to replace his father and coddle his mother day and night. He’d spent plenty of nights curled into a ball in her lap while she ran her fingers through his hair. She was never sure of exactly what to say to him to make him feel better, so she settled on just being there for him, which he never seemed to mind. Jim typically opened up when he was ready to talk, so she stayed quiet even though watching him self-destruct was eating away at her soul.

Another hour went by, and still no Jim. She figured he’d run off with the boys from the beach doing god knows what, or maybe he just forgot. Trying not to let her mind jump to conclusions, she figured it was best to just go to sleep. Hopefully, he’d show up later.

The sound of her bedroom door creaking open pulled her out of her light sleep. Opening one eye, she peeked over her shoulder to see Jim tip-toeing his way into her room, a failed attempt at trying not to wake her. He didn’t say anything when he caught her staring as he shrugged off his clothes, stripping down to just his boxers that only recently started to hang loosely from his hips. He only gave her a brief smile, one that she could barely make out in the darkness of her room.

“Hey, you. What took you so long? I was starting to think you forgot about me.” she asked him as she shifted your position on the bed, lifting her comforter and inviting him into the warmth of the blanket. Jim immediately wrapped his arms around her, tangling his legs into hers. He nuzzled his nose into her neck, “Just like a little puppy,” she’d always teased. He let out what seemed to be a sigh of relief before speaking.

“Same old shit. I tried to leave, and my mom stopped me. Screaming fit. Had to wait before her meds to knock her out before I snuck out the window.” His voice was slightly hoarse, signifying he'd been crying as much he had apparently been yelling. It wasn’t until she pulled her head away from Jim’s chest to look at his face that she saw the wetness on his cheeks. It glimmered in the moonlight that peaked through her window like crystal.

She took his head in both of her hands, gently rubbing his tears away with the pads of her thumbs. He peered at her with swollen eyes as he brushed the tips of his fingers up and down her bare sides, exposed from where her T-shirt had ridden up in bed. For a brief moment, they were both just staring at each other. Not saying anything. Not moving. Secretly, she was scanning his face for any indication that he was high. He didn’t seem to be, which made her exhale deeply and give him a sympathetic smile. She figured it was now or never, she had to pry and make him open up to her. He can’t keep doing this to himself, and she couldn’t leave Palos Verdes without knowing Jim would be okay without her.

Just as she parted her lips to speak, Jim closed her mouth off with his. It was as if he knew exactly what she was going to say and he wanted to stop her in her tracks. She felt him shakily exhale into her mouth as she snaked her arms around his neck, finally feeling at ease in her embrace after being on edge all night. Without giving her time to react, he deepened the kiss, pulling tougher on her lips and gripping his hands around her waist. She moaned softly into his mouth as he continued to feel her up, sliding one hand into the back of her panties to rest flat against the skin of her ass and keeping the other wrapped tightly around her waist. She wanted to resist him, to make him talk to her, but it was clear that he wasn’t going to comply.

He removed his hand from her underwear with a snap of the waistband, then wrapped his arm around the back of her thigh to pull her on top of him. Once she was fully straddled across Jim’s waist, she pulled back to look at him. Fresh tears were falling from his ocean colored eyes. He was quick to catch them, to rub at his face with one of his hands to disperse the running droplets from his cheeks, but she was quicker. She reached out and took his hands in hers, forcing him to look her in the eyes.

“Talk to me, Jim,” she muttered in all but a whisper, “What’s wrong?”

He tried to look away from her. At the ceiling. At her tv. At her bedroom door. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. His eyes were pleading. Don’t do this, they exerted.

With his hands still interlocked with hers, he held them close to his chest, the familiar thumping of Jim’s heartbeat pulsing through her fingertips as he spoke.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just...need you.”

Sighing in defeat, she got the hint. Now wasn’t the time. He was lying through his teeth, but she felt he might crumble beneath her if she pried too hard.

She leaned down slowly, pecking small kisses along his jaw.

“What do you need from me?” she baited, teasing him in a way. She knew exactly what he needed her to do, she just wanted him to say it.

Jim ran his hands from the small of her back down to her ass, softly pushing her against him. The course lace of her panties rubbing so closely near his crotch sent blood rushing to his cock, hardening with each roll of her hips. She sighed heavily, savoring the desperation in his movements. He moved her slowly, but it was just the way he liked it. The way he liked her. Slow and sweet.

“Need to be inside of you,” he mustered in between manual, deep breaths. His chest still felt heavy from crying only hours ago, exhaustion threatening to take over. It was taking everything in him not to collapse, to shatter like a fragile house of cards. He needed something, anything to distract him from the swelling of emotions in his own brain.

Nodding slightly, almost unrecognizably, she leaned down once more to pepper tight, close-mouthed kisses starting from the beauty mark on his upper lip down to the hollow of his throat. Her kisses grew sloppier, wetter as she worked her way down, making sure to pay extra attention to his sweet spot that she knew so well.

She set her own rhythm now, not relying on Jim’s hands to work her up and down the curves of his tummy. Pressing herself harder against him than before, she felt a damp spot pooling in her panties near her core. His breath caught in his throat with every rut of her hips. She could feel the slight tremor in his movements as he involuntarily jutted upwards into nothing. He was desperate to feel any kind of friction against his cock, and she was enjoying every second of it.

There was no way for her to explain how wet she was at this moment. It was almost sadistic, she thought. Here Jim was, clearly and visibly upset at something, and she was getting a rise out of his vulnerability, depriving him of the one thing she knew could calm him down. A vulnerability that only she had the privilege of seeing.

To others, Jim Mason was a hardass, the life of the party, the one that was always “down for whatever.” He was never one to come across as hopeless or as someone that was even slightly unhappy. It was a side effect of living in Palos Verdes, he had once told her. Everyone puts up a front and carries themselves in a demeanor that implies that their lives are peachy-fucking-keen when they all knew that couldn’t be further from the truth.

The Jim Mason she knew, the one that was lying beneath her right now, was weak. His home life was a fucking disaster. He walked into a different shit show every night and often had no recollection of what he’d even eaten for breakfast because of the pills he jammed down his throat like candy, or if he’d even eaten at all. It wasn’t his fault, not entirely anyway. There was no stability, no person to anchor him down and keep him from completely losing himself. Except her. He loved Medina with all his heart, but he knew that his sister was growing tired of him, of his bullshit. Just like everyone else in Palos Verdes. She was the only one that offered him any kind of tranquility and control in his life, and she knew it.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it was the fact that she knew she was the only person that truly held any kind of power over Jim, the only one that he’d allowed, and that’s what had her core pulsing beneath her, matching her racing heartbeat that she felt in her ears. Knowing what Jim was like when the curtains fell. Knowing just now needy he really was, how badly he needed someone to control him in order to feel whole.

Or maybe she was mad at him, and this was her passive-aggressive way of telling him to fuck off. This wasn’t the first and certainly wouldn’t be the last time that Jim would tip-toe around talking to her about his feelings. She fucking hated it. She loved him so much, and he loved her just the same. She didn’t understand why he was always making bullshit excuses about what made him upset or why he would have random outbursts of rage when he could have handled the situation in a much healthier way by simply talking to her. Especially when they both knew she’d be gone by the end of the summer. There would be no one to take care of him, at least not in the way she did, and it drove her mad that he closed himself off from her right before she left. She knew it was hypocritical, to be mad at him for not conveying his emotions properly and doing the same exact thing in return by not bringing this up to him. But holding the reins over Jim, in some fucked up way, made her feel like she could punish him for it.

She decided it was a little bit of both. Or something else entirely.

It felt all too delicious, the way she was grinding against his tanned torso, leaning back to brace herself against the meat of his thighs. Her panties were pushed aside now, folds gliding effortlessly back and forth, coating Jim’s stomach in a thin layer of her wetness. She felt his cock brush against her backside each time she pushed back; he was hard as a rock and undoubtedly throbbing as she made sure to occasionally glide herself over him just partially, enough to elicit something between a groan and a moan from the depths of Jim’s chest.

She’d lost track of time, too focused on the way Jim’s eyelashes were fluttering like the wings of a butterfly, still coated with the remnants of his tears. He was beautiful as he panted beneath her, small whines leaving his lips as he grew more desperate for relief against his aching erection.

He pulled her back down to his level by her hair with a roughness that he only ever used on her when he really, really needed her.

“Please, Y/N,” he begged.

She looked at him for a moment before responding with whatever smartass comment she’d use to taunt him even more like she always did. He looked so exhausted. His cheekbones were hollowed out, less full than they had been just shy of a year ago when they graduated high school. His eyes, while she hadn’t noticed before, were hollow, the sockets sunken in and noticeable even in the sliver of light that came from her window. He was sad. There was no other way to put it. He was withering away, and she’d been passive and allowed it to happen.

All of her anger she’d been convinced was driving her seized. She had to fix him, she told herself. She had to make sure he was going to make it without her in Palos Verdes because she had a feeling the odds weren’t that high if he kept doing whatever he was doing when he was away from her.

She ran her fingers through his thick, brown waves, gritty-feeling in between her digits from the sea salt that permanently lingered in the air. Her lips met his softly, just barely massaging them with her tongue.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you Jimmy,” her own voice trembled this time.

Sliding off of her position on his stomach, she began to pump Jim’s length with her hand. She could see the sticky trail of her cum that she left behind on his tummy as she moved over to straddle his legs. His breath hitched in his throat as she gripped him in her small hands, finally feeling a sliver of the high he’d been chasing all night. He bucked himself into her as she twisted her wrist slightly while she worked him.

“God, Y/N,” Jim whined, his eyes rolling back into his head.

She could tell he wasn’t going to last long, he never did when he acted like this - when he slipped into this headspace that rendered him absolutely useless and vulnerable. Her eyes locked with his as she released him from her hands, a gasp floated from his lips at the lack of stimulation. She braced her hands on his broad chest, lifting herself to hover just above his waist. He gripped her forearms in his large hands, steadying both her and himself.

She lifted her oversized t-shirt that was pooling around her knees just enough to push her panties to the side and guide Jim’s cock to her core. His tip ran along her folds as she maneuvered him into her, swirling around in her wetness to prepare for the stretch.

Slowly, like the creeping tide of the ocean, she inched her way down onto him. He was impossibly big; it felt like the first time for her every time. The sensation of Jim’s cock impaling her almost causing her to cry out, but she didn’t. When she was fully seated inside of him, she let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding.

Taking his hands in hers once more, she began to roll her hips against his. The burn was all-consuming, she was unable to concentrate on anything apart from the heat radiating from her abdomen. Jim’s mouth hung open beneath her, forming a perfect “o”-shape with his glistening, spit-covered lips. He held onto her hands tightly as she picked up her speed, as if she was the buoy keeping him afloat.

For a while, the sounds of heavy panting and the wet squelching of Jim’s cock rutting in and out of her pulsing cunt were the only noises that filled the confines of the baby pink walls of her room at her parent’s house. She began to feel the familiar pull in her tummy and began chasing after it like a surfer chasing a wave, paddling faster and faster until she met the swell. She moved her hands to the rails of the headboard she’d had since she was 11, the posts occasionally knocking against the drywall with a bang.

Jim began to lose himself, temporarily forgetting the insanity of his life and fixated himself solely on the girl on top of him.

“Baby,” he panted in between her now relentless thrusts and moans, “I’m. Close.”

“Me too. Wait for me,” she commanded, gripping tighter on the headboard to move her hips more quickly into his throbbing cock.

She’d be surprised if she didn’t have bruises on her thighs tomorrow by how hard Jim was holding onto her; a symbol of how close he was, and how he was using all of his strength to wait for her and not give in to the release that he was right on the brink of falling into.

Snaking her hand under her large t-shirt once more, her fingers found her clit. She began rubbing harsh, sloppy circles around the swollen bundle of nerves, knowing good and well she didn’t have long before Jim fell apart. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on Jim’s cock and how it felt to be the only one that made him crumble like he was right now. Just as she felt she was making progress, Jim let out a prolonged grunt that made her stop in her tracks.

If it was possible, Jim squeezed her thighs even tighter as his release washed over him in waves, his hips sputtering beneath her. She felt the warmth of his seed coat her inner walls, then small strings running back out onto her inner thighs and Jim’s balls. He tensed up immediately, his face flushing red with embarrassment.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry I-”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” she reassured him, laying flat against his chest.

She cooed Jim in his ear, petting the damp hair that stuck to his forehead and pressing gentle kisses along his neck. He wrapped his arms around her waist, molding her body into his. All the while he was still inside of her. She could feel him softening after each passing second, but she didn’t bother slipping him out of her. Something inside her wanted him as close to her as possible, so she stayed put.

There was no telling how long they’d laid there. Jim’s heartbeat had steadied by now, she no longer felt the thumping next to her ear. He was still holding her, twisting strands of her hair in between his fingers. It was a nervous habit of his, one that he was never able to shake.

“Thank you,” he spoke up, just barely above a whisper, bursting the bubble of silence that had encased them.

“For what? That?”

“For being patient.”

She paused, her brain recollecting what he meant. She wished it was patience, but she knew that it wasn’t. She was scared, and that’s why she could never bring herself to make Jim talk. He was putty in her hands, it would have been easy to force him to open up, but she never did it. She couldn’t admit that she felt like she was abandoning him, just like everyone else in his life. No one was making her leave Palos Verdes and transfer to a new university, she wanted to. There was nothing in this washed up, artificial town for her anymore. Nothing besides Jim. But he wouldn’t come with her, they’d already had that argument, and she knew she’d get nowhere in her career staying in a city where looks supersede anything with real value. She was terrified that what she perceived as a selfish action would be the downfall of the boy she loved the most, there was nothing “patient” about it.

“I love you, Jim Mason. So fucking much,” she whispered, her fingers dancing around the dips of his collarbones.

“Love you too,” he answered. There was a sniffle in his voice, meaning fresh tears had fallen from his eyes, once blue as the ocean, now dark like a cloudy sky.

“We’re gonna have to talk about it soon, though. You know that, right?”

She knew what he thought she meant, that they needed to talk about his anger or his drug problem or that she was going to try to convince him to move away with her again, but only she knew what she really meant. She needed to know how he was going to survive without her.

“I know.” he shakily exhaled.

Exhausted, both physically and mentally, she reached out beside her to grab the comforter that had been strewn aside long ago. Covering herself and Jim in the feathery down of the duvet, she relaxed once more into his warm chest. She didn’t have many nights left with Jim, and she was dreading the last time she’d be able to fall asleep and wake up next to him.

Tagging:

@avesatanormalpeoplescareme @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @venusxxlangdon @aveiangdon @belusima @ccodyfern @readsalot73 @americanhorrorstudies @wroteclassicaly @gold-dragon-slayer@langdonsdemon @langdonshell @1-800-bitchcraft

#jim mason x reader #jim mason smut #jim mason #michael langdon x reader #duncan shepherd x reader #my writing #this was gonna go in like 10 different directions and i feel like you can definitely tell #oopsies!!!!!!!!!!!!

153 notes · View notes