#but! it's dark political fantasy that's just how the situation is | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tadpolesonalgae · 5 months

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Two-Faced[***]

Dark!Rhys x reader

a/n: Honestly I’ve tried to edit this so many times I can no longer tell if I like it or not? Also this is a prequel to Desk Pet and goes along with that universe but can be read on its own 🧡💛

warnings: non-con, shadow play(?), bdsm themes, suggested breeding kink, smut, overstimulation, somnophilia, suggested dacryphilia(?), a little peak into Rhys’ mind at the end

word count: 8,875

-Desk Pet- -Play-Mate-

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You glance into the mirror, readjusting how the thin golden chain hangs around your neck, the small pendant sitting pretty between your breasts.

Easing in a deep breath, you check everything else is appropriately placed, nothing revealing too much skin, no fabric dipping where it shouldn’t, everything neatly wrapped up. You could swear you can see how your heart pulses in your chest in the reflection, a slight shudder passing beneath your flesh as you think ahead to what might unfold.

The deep purple gown settles comfortably over your body, dark and velvety, the neckline modest without being conservative, the hem of the skirts brushing just shy of your feet, sleeves that run down to your wrists, locked in matching golden chains, slim and elegant. Your lips are painted darker than usual to match the purple of your dress, with small golden pins keeping some strands of hair in place. Is it too much?

Dining with a High Lord… Even if you’re friendly, you don’t want to suggest something you can’t give, nor flirt where you can’t fulfil.

In the recent months, you know you haven’t been imagining the intensity in his eyes, how they sweep so deliciously over you, slowly, under the guise of polite appreciation. But there’s nothing polite about the way he looks at you. How it sets your skin on fire, pulse spiking with the slightest curve of his mouth. How your breath hitches whenever his skin brushes yours, fingers grazing your waist to guide you someplace—gentle dominance that makes your body flush with heat. Even at the faintest hint of his scent, you’d found yourself seeking out his gaze, as if sharing in a forbidden fantasy together.

Maybe it’s your fault for letting it get too far. Letting it escalate without consideration for how high he might truly be able to take you. He certainly isn’t the only male in your life. You hadn’t even realised how far things had gone with Rhys until the male you’d been seeing casually had brought it up, and you’d felt a tug of guilt in your gut. The two of you weren’t together exactly, but it definitely wasn’t just sex. There was too much emotional intimacy for it to be such a black-and-white situation. Emotions bleeding over where they should have been kept in line.

A triptych of knocks are landed to your door, gentle but firm, and you tear your gaze away from your reflection—attractive as it is, you shouldn’t keep him waiting.

Easing in a breath, you open the door, pulse spiking as you take him in, raising your chin to meet his violet gaze.

On the wooden deck of your house, stood beneath the warm faelight to illuminate the entranceway, he dominates the space, your attention zeroing in on his figure, dressed immaculately as usual, shirt revealing a peak at the appetisingly tan skin beneath, a suggestion of ink peering over the hem of the linen.

“Rhysand,” you greet with a smile, opening the door wider, previous worries forgotten as he takes up your attention whole. “Rhysand?” He drawls, brow quirking in amusement as he leans forward, and you step into his invitation. “Have I done something to irritate you?” He muses beside your ear, bodies pressed a little closer than appropriate as your arms wrap over his shoulders. His palm splays between your shoulder blades, pressing you deeper into his sturdy heat, spine arching under his direction. “You show up dressed as you are—I thought you said this was a casual dinner,” you smile as you pull away, arms still wrapped around one another.

Violet eyes sweep across your features, the skin between your shoulder-blades tingling beneath his broad palm, and that intensity burns down into you. “You look like this for casual dinners?” He replies, lips curving with amusement. “I look like this for my High Lord,” you reply, rolling your eyes playfully, stepping out of his hold, already missing his heat. “Will you tell me where we’re going to dine? Or are you going to insist on keeping it a secret until the last second?”

“The last second might be a bit of a stretch,” he chuckles, offering you his arm, “but I know how you like surprises, so perhaps arrangements can be made.”

“You could winnow us there with ease,” you muse lightly, linking your arm with his, door closing at your back as he guides you down the steps leading into your front garden, then out into the street.

Violet eyes flick over you, your skin tightening beneath his open attention, meeting his gaze. “A lady deserves preparation,” he replies, heat fluttering in your lower abdomen at the sonorous drawl. “I’m sure you’d still succeed with the surprise element regardless,” you laugh, lips warm from the smile. “I suppose I could always blindfold you?” He suggests, and you gently elbow him, rolling your eyes again, trying to quell the traitorous heat that’s unspooling in the pit of your stomach. “I’d trip up and break something,” you counter fondly, swiftly averting you gaze so he won’t be able to somehow read your emotions. The attraction that always seems to become much more prominent in his presence. More pertinent, and palpable.

“I could direct you,” he replies lightly, a curve to his soft mouth, “I like to think I’m fairly good at giving instructions.”

“You’re practiced at giving orders. There’s a difference,” you counter, unable to help the smile on your lips—that’s undoubtedly shining in your eyes. “Besides, I don’t trust myself in heels.”

“You certainly picked a tricky pair,” he admits, glancing down to the thin golden strings wrapped around your ankles, disappearing beneath your dress. “I’m sure I’ll be regretting that by the end of the night,” you sigh, taking care to avoid any uneven surfaces. “If you need a reprieve, feel free to say,” he chuckles lowly, guiding you down another street, and you silently admire how seamlessly he blends in with the inky darkness of his court. “I’d be more than happy to sweep you off your feet, if needed.”

————

You’d been surprised when he’d taken you not to a pre-established restaurant but to a house he’d recently purchased by the riverside—for ample view of the Sidra, he’d explained, when you’d asked why he’d picked that part of the city.

He’d guided you in, as he usually does when you’re out together, a hand kept lightly against your lower back to keep you steady, especially when passing over cobbles. You’d noticed how his touch had smoothly migrated from lightly brushing against your skin on the way into the house, to settling securely around your waist once away from the public, a response of equal parts concern and satisfaction humming in your chest. It’s hard to keep your head when he singles you out so obviously—like there’s something special about you in particular. Something he can only find in you. How are you supposed to resist a male who makes you feel so treasured?

“You certainly succeeded with surprising me,” you smile, leaning back in your chair, content with the meal—mansaf, with goat’s meat. “I didn��t know you could cook like that?” You muse, meeting his gaze across the cozy table, tucked away in an alcove on the library he’s slowly filling up, tall windows to your right, providing a clear view of the Sidra, rooftops shadowed under the night’s sky. His smile isn’t as full as you’d hoped, instead seeming quieter than usual. “I don’t have much time to indulge anymore,” he answers, and you straighten in your seat. “It would be nice, to pursue my own interests. From time to time.”

Your expression softens as you watch him from across the table—he makes it easy to forget the things he’s withstood. It’s easy to speak with him, to be around him.

“I appreciate you finding the time to do so tonight,” you say quietly, briefly glancing down at your empty plate before returning your gaze to his. “It was delicious.” His eyes twinkle, and a small smile makes its way onto your mouth at the familiar gleam. “I’m glad you thought so,” he admits, “it’s been a while.”

“If this is how you are out of practice, it might be for the better you don’t have more time on your hands. You’d run people out of business,” you say quietly.

There’s a pause that passes between you, and you feel yourself being pulled in, already so thoroughly snared by his riptides you haven’t noticed you’ve been pulled under.

“I know it isn’t much,” you say lowly, a little roughly, pushing up from your seat to walk to his side. “But you deserve the time to indulge in your own interests, Rhys. To be able to enjoy life like the people you devote yourself to protecting do.” Violet eyes lift to yours, swirling and depthless, pulling you further down. “You’ve mentioned what that time was like,” you manage quietly, voice thick with emotion, at all he’s sacrificed to keep Velaris safe. To keep his people safe. “I can’t even imagine what it was like,” you murmur, hand resting gently on his shoulder, hoping you aren’t overstepping.

It isn’t often he talks about what had been done to him, what he’d been forced to do, but when he does…you listen. Take in every word, let him know you hear him, at the very least. That he has someone he can share his life with, someone he can come to when he’s alone, and know you’ll be there.

“You’re out now,” you whisper, “you made it.”

“I’m in pieces,” he murmurs, expression neutral despite the sadness of the admission.

“It’s okay to be in pieces, Rhys,” you reply, stepping into him when he shifts to face you, his hand coming to rest atop your own, fingers dancing to your wrist, wrapping over your forearm carefully. As if afraid to break you, too. “You’re allowed to grieve yourself, after what happened.”

His fingers tighten a little around your wrist, then he’s smoothly standing from his chair, though you don’t step back, keeping together as his hand slowly settles on your waist.

“I don’t think…” he trails off, voice breathy and hushed, and you hold him a little tighter, free palm settling on his upper arm. His throat rolls, and he pulls you the barest bit closer, bodies connecting as heat is shared and swapped, scents pushing together. “I don’t think I’m the same as I was before,” he admits quietly, violet eyes pinning you to the floor, touch pressing into your skin. “That’s okay,” you whisper, “time changes people. It’s okay to shift in essence.”

“No. Not like that,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your own, your hand brushing against his jaw, his palms wrapping tighter around you, growing more assured in their hold, like you’re becoming a part of him. “I can’t stand it,” he admits, brow pressing to your own, his eyes shut, a troubled expression on his beautiful features. “I can’t stand it anymore.”

You peer up at him, now cupping his face in both your hands, leaning into him. “What is it?” You ask softly, “you can tell me. I want to know what’s troubling you.” Violet eyes open slightly, darkened by his lashes as he looks down at you, brows furrowed in what looks like indecision. Or regret. But then it’s gone in a flash, easing out into something more calm, and familiar. “I want to be happy,” he confesses quietly, words brushing over your mouth so tenderly. “I don’t want to be alone again. How I was.”

“You aren’t alone,” you murmur, thumb brushing his cheek. “You have your family, you’re back with them again—you’re back here again. You survived.” But he shakes his head, and you push slightly closer, letting him know whatever he wants, he can confess to you. You’ll be there for him if he needs.

“I can’t stand not having it anymore,” he breathes, hold tightening on you, voice deeper, rougher, than before. “I should be happy, shouldn’t I?”

Your brows pull together, curving as you nod, wanting nothing more than to comfort him, slotting yourself into the familiar lines of his body. “Everyone deserves to be happy,” you whisper, heart aching, “even if they don’t believe so.” You swallow, feeling hot beneath his gaze, but refusing to step away, not when this is the most vulnerable he’s ever allowed himself to be with you. “If you…” you swallow again, eyes darting away briefly before returning to his. “If you know what you want…” You trail off, bewitched by the swirling intensity of his gaze. Your breath catches, aware of how close you are, how intimate the embrace has become. “…you should have it, Rhys.”

He exhales heavily, relief loosening the tension in his body, then he’s leaning forward, mouth opening over yours.

You freeze, not having expected the bold action, but quickly melt beneath his touch, all previous thought fading to nothing as his lips slant over yours, soft and hot, and his hands are moving across the planes of your body, strengthening as you’re pulled impossibly closer. He’s a really good kisser.

His tongue flicks out, and you start, reeling from his pace, but he’s gently turning you around, mouth still sealed against your own as he pushes you into the wall, hips against your own while his arm wraps tight around your waist, other hand settling over the nape of your neck that’s so small in comparison. Your palms stutter as they shift, unsure where to place them, having been swept off your feet, caught with your guard down. You hadn’t realised just how intense the attraction had become—for either of you.

Rhys makes a hungry sound from the back of his throat, and your insides flutter, spine arching into him, breasts pressing fully against his chest—but you need to slow down. You hadn’t planned on any of this unfolding so rapidly, had intended to be wary of his advances, of the mutual lust binding you together. It’s dominating; overpowering, mind-warping to struggle against, but you have enough sense to know acting on this desire will only confuse things. Mixing tender affection with the sharpened blades of lust never ends well.

“Rhys,” you murmur, pulling away enough to get his name out, but his mouth seals over your own again, and you fight to not be dragged under by hunger, by your desire to follow in his motions. This isn’t something you can rush, if you want it to work. Your hands tangle in his hair, tugging him back firmly, heat warming your cheeks. “Rhys, we—”

His hands leave your body, roughly gripping your wrists and shoving them back against the wall, hips keeping you pinned in place as he devours you, prying your mouth open with embarrassing ease, arousal making it hard to resist. His tongue stokes over your own, and a heady feeling rushes your veins, need pounding in your blood, losing grip fast as he sinks his claws into you.

Rhys pulls away from you, and you open your mouth to tell him to stop, but he’s dipping lower, attacking your neck as his canines flash, the kisses rapidly descending into untamed bites and claiming slashes of teeth against soft, unmarked skin. You gasp as he bites, putting his mark into your body, startled by your own enjoyment, how arousal is swiftly rising to meet him, as much as you’re trying to pull away. “Rhys…” you pant, struggling half-heartedly beneath his touch, enjoying how his strength dominates you, a display of power so brutal and fundamental something warms in your chest.

He releases your wrists in favour of roughly gripping your skirts, almost tearing them as they’re shoved up your thighs, making way for him as he grips you tight, hoisting you up so your legs wrap around his hips—allowing him to press against your centre, purple fabric pooled around your waist. Instinctively your arms fly over his shoulders, and then his mouth is reclaiming your own, a flashing frenzy of tongue and teeth that knocks you clean off your feet, heart pounding from the assault on your senses, the ticklish pleasure still tingling across the erogenous skin at your throat.

Your fingers shakily tangle in his hair, and he snarls into the kiss, canines scraping over your lower lip before crushing back against your mouth, the damper on his power waring thinner, and thinner, pressure straining on your bones as you tremble. He’s never come this close to removing it completely around you, and it’s terrifying, your heart pounding in your chest, pulse spiking as you begin to get an understanding of what kind of beast you’ve been taunting.

“Rhys!” You gasp as his hand palms over your breast, grinding between your thighs as he again dips down to your throat, feeling your heightened pulse beneath his teeth. Tongue darting out to taste you.

Your hands stutter over him, torn between trying to pull him away and to tug him closer, to take more of him, startled by the ferocious hunger he’s subjecting you to, and the starvation it’s bringing forth in your own body.

His fingers effortlessly slide beneath your dress, but when they brush the golden string that’s clinging to your right hip, it’s like a bucket of icy water has been speared into your bloodstream. Your palms slam down against his shoulders, leveraging yourself against the wall as you shove at him enough to push him away by an inch or two, allowing your legs to unlock from his hips, standing on your own shaky feet again, nearly collapsing thanks to the sharply-angled heels.

“Rhys, stop,” you demand breathlessly, hands flat against his powerful chest, able to feel how his magic thrums dangerously around you, beating in time with his pulse in deadly waves. “Slow down,” you breathe, gazing up into intensely dark violet, practically plunging into icy indigo, his features turning glacial as he looks down at you, caged in, your cheeks warmed from arousal. He steps closer, crowding your space, and you tense up, abruptly aware of how that lethal strength could just as easily be used against you rather than with you.

“What is it?” He drawls, the tone having hairs rising on the back of your neck in warning, a long lost sense rising from the recesses of your mind to scream its horror at the creature before you, steadily emerging from beautifully carved skin. “I…Rhys, I’m not sure about this,” you answer honestly, hands trembling over his chest, trying to even out your breaths. “I’m sorry,” you fumble, “it’s all happening so quickly—I didn’t expect anything to happen tonight.”

“Is that why you’re wearing these?” He asks lowly, and you stiffen as his fingers brush over your hip, now covered again by your dress, but you know he’s talking about your underwear, how it matches the gold of your jewellery, complimenting the regal purple of your gown.

“I—…that was for me,” you mumble, flushing, shying away from the pressure within his gaze, how his attention crushes down upon you. “So I’d feel more confident around you.”

“Confident?” He remarks lowly, roughly, the slow drag of the word tingling down your spine. “So you always wear something matching whenever you feel unsure?” You falter, glancing away, hands lowering a little but remaining against him, anxious to keep him at bay for the moment. “I’m sorry if I misled you,” you manage, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “But I…if you’re only after sex, I can’t give you that.”

“You’d give more?” He asks breathlessly, pushing closer despite how you try to keep him away. “With someone else, I could manage a one-time thing,” you whisper, “but with you…”

A deep noise rumbles in his chest, male satisfaction resounding through you as your insides flutter, his hands coming to brace themselves on the wall, either side of your hips as he leans down, mere inches separating you. “You want something serious?” He asks quietly, roughly, and you nod, tilting your head to better see him.

His lips curve at the edges, pleased with your reply. “Then come with me,” he murmurs beside your ear, and your breaths stutter as his arousal wraps around you, stark and heady. His hand wraps around your wrist, making to take you elsewhere, but you pull against his hold. “I need you to slow down,” you manage firmly, getting stable footing on the ground—relatively stable, anyway.

“You were so eager a second ago,” he muses, the sonorous drawl returning, his eyes dark and deadly, able to scent your own arousal by now. He doesn’t release your wrist. “I’m allowed to change my mind,” you say firmly, lightly trying to pull away but to no avail. Either he doesn’t get the hint, or…you swallow thickly.

Violet eyes glint, a curve tilting the edges of his mouth. “And what have you changed your mind to?” He asks smoothly, as if indulging a child’s whim.

“I think a lot has happened tonight, and I want to go home and sleep on it,” you say, aware of how his touch is making your skin tingle. A strange weariness creeping over you, eyelids beginning to weigh as the adrenaline wares off.

A sadness flickers in his violet eyes, before it’s vanished, and he shakes his head. “I can’t stand it a moment longer,” he breathes, firmly pulling you into his body, knowing you’re unable to resist. His palm settles on your lower back, and you press your own hand to his chest in protest. “Rhys. Stop messing around,” you say, peering up at him, meeting hungry, dark eyes. “This isn’t funny. Let me go.”

“Lovely, little lamb,” he breathes, angling you so he can peer down at you, and you can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing intrusively into your middle. “You think I would joke when it comes to you?” He asks gently, violet eyes sweeping over you, and you shrink away, the ravenous lust making your legs feel weak. “I can hardly breathe right around you,” he whispers, “I ache for you. To feel you. To touch you. Don’t deny me for a second longer.”

Your lips part in shock, unable to formulate a response, and his eyes glint with approval, before he’s turning, forcefully dragging you from the room, hand shackled around your wrist as you try to struggle against him, to rip yourself from his hold, but he refuses to budge. You might as well be fighting against iron for how much give he allows.

“Rhys,” you call sharply, tugging away. “Rhysand!” You try grabbing onto a banister, but he’s too strong, and your hold slips away, heels practically clawing lines into the floorboards as you try to lean against him, to counterweight his force—to no avail. “Rhys let me go,” you bark, surging forward abruptly in attempt to knock into him, but he’s been trained as a warrior since birth, and has no difficulty in remaining stable.

“Stop struggling,” he demands lowly, piercing violet pinning you to the floor, and you’re utterly helpless as he effortlessly puts you over his shoulder, sweeping you off your feet with devastating ease. You start kicking, slamming your fists against his back, aiming either side of his spine as you scream at him to put you down, trying to dig your nails into his skin, to rip through his clothes to scratch and slice at him.

You recoil into yourself when his palm connects with your hind, body going taut as you freeze, horror and terror paralysing you, and he chuckles lowly. “Like that?” He asks, voice deeper, and your stomach drops when he reaches a bedroom, able to watch as the door clicks shut.

“Rhys,” you whisper, fear pounding through your veins. “Rhys, put me down.”

Panic roils in your gut as you’re roughly thrown down from his shoulder, knees pressing together as you land on the softness of his mattress, crisp sheets rustling as you try to squirm away from him, pushing further up the bed. “Rhys— Rhys listen to me,” you try, but he ignores you, looming like a nightmare as he grips your ankle, dragging you back toward him.

“Relax,” he muses, fingers biting into your skin as he pushes the deep purple of your dress higher, until you’re certain he’ll be able to see the gold material clinging between your thighs, presented with a perfect view between your legs. “You’ll feel good. You know you’ll feel good.”

“Rhys, fuck off!” You bark, voice shaking with terror, pressure building behind your eyes. “You can’t fucking do this. Just because she did it to you doesn’t mean you have the right to inflict it on other people.”

He snarls lowly at that, pinning you down in an instant, easily slotting between your thighs, his powerful body keeping you where he wants with ease. “I thought you cared, huh? I thought you were eager to be with me. What happened to that, hm?”

“You’re sick, Rhys,” you hiss, “this is sick. You’re fucking insane.”

“It’s okay to be a little insane,” he drawls, mimicking your earlier words of comfort, given in attempts to help him, but in doing so dooming yourself. “It’s more than a little,” you hiss, teeth flashing as you try to kick him off you, but he’s pressing himself flush between your thighs, leaving you without a hope in hell.

“I deserve to be happy, don’t I?” He murmurs so softly over your mouth, and in any other context your heart would have broken at the question—that he would even have to ask. But, “not at my expense, Rhys,” you hiss, heat warming behind your eyes. “Not at our expense.”

“I’m not sacrificing us,” he counters quietly, hand coming up to grip your jaw. “I’m joining us together.” He rolls his hips against yours, feeling him against your sex, how the pressure grinds over your clit, deliciously traitorous heat gathering in response, and you’re utterly helpless as his lips curve into a slight grin, sadism gleaming from deep within his violent gaze.

“I don’t want to join with you,” you spit back, trying to push him away, but darkness gathers on his bed, keeping your wrists bound to the mattress as he lowers his mouth to your throat, kissing and biting his way down your skin, painting a pathway of bruises while his hands glide up your thighs, catching beneath the material of your dress. His lips brush the hem of its neckline, and then he’s smoothly pulling it away, leaving you practically bare.

Your High Lord pulls back, tan skin flushed, pupils dilated with dizzying hunger as he gazes down at his prey, the golden fabric clinging to your hips as you squirm, ankles wrapped in that gilded string, keeping your heels in place, the elegant little chains decorating your wrists, settling around your throat. He groans lowly, rough palms splaying over your waist, resting there gently as he rolls his hips against you, into you, taking his time pulling you apart. Savouring your struggle.

“You were desperate for it minutes ago,” he drawls lowly, right palm raising over your stomach, the pads of his fingers brushing with a feather-light touch upward, starting from your lower abdomen, gliding slowly to your sternum, pleased to feel how your breath hitches beneath his touch. “You’ll be desperate again soon enough.”

“Go to hell, Rhys,” you manage, lip curling back to showcase sharp canines—a set he’d gladly allow to pierce his skin. The only set he’d allow to mark him ever again. “This isn’t fucking okay.”

“No, it isn’t,” he breathes, and your throat rolls heavily as his fingers begin the slow, torturous descent back down your body, trailing over your abdomen, stroking down over the golden fabric, running lightly over your centre. “It’s better.”

Heat flushes your skin as his rough palms grip the underside of your thighs, just above your knees, raising your legs up and out of the way, pressing them close to your torso so he has more room. Callouses drag against your skin, a reminder of his strength, the warrior that’s concealed beneath his finely tailored exterior. He is the embodiment of power.

“Rhys, stop,” you breathe as he settles at the edge of the bed, violet eyes hungrily licking over your clothed sex. You squirm, trying to shift your hips, but his lips brush over your abdomen, and then his teeth are clasping the band of your underwear. He gazes up at you intently, slowly dragging it back—tauntingly; teasingly—until he releases it to snap back against your skin.

“Rhys…” you murmur shakily, the understanding finally beginning to dawn across you that he might go through with it. “Rhys, please. You’re better than this.” Violet gleams with ravenous hunger, dark and starved, and he presses forward, mouth a breath’s width from your sex. “Shall I show you how much better I can be?”

You swallow thickly beneath that look, but manage to nod your head. If you can just get him to pull away, to remove the bonds of your wrists…

Your lips part in a sharp gasp, writhing beneath him as he presses his face between your legs, violet eyes closing as he takes in his own heaven, submerging himself in your scent, your heat. You try to buck away from him, to get further from his mouth, but it only serves to make you more aware of how he’s invading, though his grip has lessened on your thighs.

He exhales heavily, contentedly, shifting between your legs and your muscles coil tense, nails piercing your palms as his nose brushes against… Your toes curl, thighs trying to press together, to ward him away, but he keeps you spread apart effortlessly.

Eventually he pulls back, violet eyes glued to your clothed sex as his fingers hook in the golden strings lacing over your hips, slowly pulling them away. His gaze practically glows, pupils dilating as he peels away the wet material, shame and humiliation burning hot in your gut. Eyes flick up to you, and you force yourself to meet them, to not yield and look away—to not admit defeat. “You’re wet,” he breathes lowly, roughly, depthless hunger swirling in the pits of his pupils. “That means nothing,” you hiss, trying to writhe away from him, fearing what practices his mind will conjure. “I think it means quite a lot more than that, darling,” he breathes, pulling your underwear away completely, then pressing it back to your heat.

You inhale sharply as his fingers run up over you, slow but firm strokes, circling your entrance through the golden fabric, and your pulse spikes. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing now?” You snap, voice shaking with fear, darkness now banding around beneath your knees to keep them apart as he stands, peeling your underwear away. Embarrassment flushes your skin when you catch their gleam, how thoroughly soaked they are.

Rhys’s cruel mouth curves, and you writhe on his bed, trying to turn away as he pushes the wet material between your lips, long fingers prying them apart. Your tongue recoils, trying to pull away, but his grin widens, a pleasured sound coming from deep within his chest as he feels you struggle. “Do you taste good?” He asks lowly, fingers stroking over your tongue, “like having that in your mouth? I bet you’re only getting wetter by the second,” he breathes, pupils fully dilated.

You release a sound that should be disgusted, but comes out as more of a whimper. His breath catches at the noise, able to see how his cock is straining against his trousers but he leaves himself unattended—for now.

He returns between your legs, and a noise between a whimper and a snarl rips from your throat, heat flaring across your skin as he licks up your centre, broad palms keeping your thighs absolutely open for him to indulge.

“Rhys,” you panic, feeling pressure build behind your eyes, managing to spit out the fabric that had been gagging you. “Rhys please. Please stop. We can— We can figure something out—”

His tongue swipes over your clit, making you jolt and squirm, trying desperately to thrash against his hold but it’s like being chained up, his grip stricter than iron as he applies himself, suckling at the impossibly sensitive part effortlessly, as if he’s familiar with how your body works. As if he knows already exactly where to touch, suck, and fuck to have you drooling dumb.

Breaths pant from your lips, hips wiggling as one hand trails down your thigh, and you know exactly what he’s planning to do with those long, dexterous fingers of his…exactly how they’ll feel inside of you, how they’ll know where to push and rub at to have you dripping onto his knuckles.

“You want me to stop?” He breathes lowly, roughly, thumbing at your entrance, liking how you tighten around nothing as if eager to invite him in. “You know I could make you feel like an immortal,” he growls, mouth prone to attach your clit with his tongue and teeth should you try to rebuke him. “I could take you higher…further than anyone’s ever taken you before.”

“I don’t fucking want it,” you hiss, lip curled as heat wets your eyes, trying to blink away the hot tears in favour of sending him a look of pure hatred.

Rhys blinks his violet eyes, then smiles, pulling away.

“Give me five minutes?” He muses lowly, a starving glint in his gaze, darkened and scheming. You snarl, then inhale sharply when the darkness releases you, completely freeing you. Immediately you sit upright, pulling your legs together, but refusing to cower before him—keeping your hands at your sides, gripping the sheets to prevent yourself from recoiling physically.

“You don’t deserve a single second of my time,” you spit, blinking away the tears as you snarl. “I regret how much I’ve already spent on you.”

“Not even a single second?” He laughs, hands sliding calmly into the pockets of his finely tailored trouser, perfectly encapsulating the raw power contained within his body. “I’m not sure if I can take you there in an instant without hurting you somewhere,” he drawls almost apologetically, but his violet eyes spark. “But if that’s all you’ll give me…” he murmurs, softer than a breath.

Your breathing pattern spikes, heat flushing intently beneath his gaze. Talons swiftly enter your mind, and you’re utterly helpless as your body starts to tremble, terrifying heat swelling with such ferocity your vision goes tilted, muscles feeling like custard as you fall back into the bed. Your spine arches on its own, toes curling eyes squeezing shut as he plies the orgasm from your body, easing out your pleasure while he stands at the foot of the bed, idly licking at the pad of his thumb that had prodded against your entrance.

Your lips part as it intensifies, and you scramble, thrashing in the bed, a choked noise erupting from your chest as you feel the high in your entire body, like there are hands touching, feeling all across your body, tongues lapping over your nipples, sets of teeth biting at your throat, lips sealing over your clit as fingers pump and curl inside of you.

The scream rises swiftly, limbs trembling violently as sweat is forced through your skin from the abrupt intensity, the orgasm absolutely devastating as you lose all control of yourself, moaning unabashedly as those feelings are drawn out—as Rhysand draws them out. His fingers the ones inside of you, his teeth piercing your skin, his tongue circling your clit.

“Do you want it to stop,” he muses, unable to help licking his lips at the obscene sight before him, the scent of it filtrating into his blood, rushing straight to his cock, hot and heavy between his legs.

The words jumble and melt across your mind, splashing like melted butter into your head, and struggle—for what? For more? For more.

He chuckles lowly, and you scream as he forces you through a second one, having it break like the surf across jagged rocks, arousal dripping down your thighs, webbing between your legs as you try to press them together only for the darkness to spread you apart. Definitely more than wet enough to fill a shot glass or two.

You pant heavily. Ragged, gasping breaths as wild heat ravishes your skin, pleasure bursting at the seams of your body, a perfectly ripe fruit dripping with flavour, ready to break beneath the slightest pressure from a set of sharp, piercing canines the second they graze your skin. And Rhysand is more than happy to bite.

Your eyes are squeezed shut tight, so you can only feel the mattress dip as he prowls up onto the bed, pinning you down, caging you effortlessly between his powerful, ruining arms.

The High Lord allows your orgasm to wash away slowly, bringing you back to the plane of reality he’s on, your skin hot and dewy from the intense pleasure he’s forced you full of. Your lids flutter, eyes struggling to lock onto his as violet pierces into you, doing nothing to hide the deep-rooted hunger that’s tearing him apart. He moves lazily, with the leisure one can move with when they’re in no rush, yet you can sense that undercurrent, the riptide within him that you’ve been caught in, at last dawning on you. The only other tell aside from his actions and confessions, is the strain in his jaw, wound tight as he gazes down at you, eyes so dark they’re closer to being entirely black as shadow and darkness writhes around you in a great, slithering mass, tangling with you on the bed.

“I think you’re more than ready now,” he whispers, the words dragging like gravel across bare, sensitive skin. “Are you ready?”

Tears spill down your cheeks, so turned around you feel entirely out of control. All you can remember is the sizzling burn of pleasure, the electrifying tingle of heat as it sears through your thighs, making your body feel weightless, like you’re above the clouds and bathing in starlight…starlight that’s hot and wet, that trickles down the naked planes of your body…that slips and slides where your fingers drag through it…that tastes like power and possession…laced through with iridescent violet…

A rough laugh drags from the High Lord’s throat, sensing your pleasure-induced daze, facing not even an ounce of resistance as he gently flips you over on the bed, the side of your face pressing into the soft fullness of one of the pillows, saliva pooling inside your cheek, drooling out onto the cotton as he pushes your thighs apart.

He curses lowly, eyeing the mess between your thighs, wanting more than anything to pull you to the edge of his bed, or flip you around again so you’re spread out on top of him, suspended in the air for him to play with and touch. So he can kiss, lick, bite wherever on your body he likes, so he can press his face between your legs, so he can take his time learning the pace you most like his tongue circling your clit, the pressure to apply that will most swiftly lead you to orgasm, the spots inside of you he should rub against if he wants you to soak him.

But he doesn’t. He’s waited too long.

Besides, after tonight, he can do whatever he pleases; you’ll be his. If he wants to dangle you from the ceiling while exploring your skin, if he wants to bind you to his bed while he kisses up your thighs, if he wants to seat you in his lap while he strokes his tongue against your own…he can. The thought has him growling lowly, dark power writhing beneath his skin, aching to manifest with talons and large, spanning wings, to allow proper canines to slide from his upper lip and his skin to become dark and leathery; to yield to his baser side.

You make a soft sound in the back of your throat, confused but aroused, and his cock twitches between his legs in response. Trailing a hand up the path of your spine, darkness gathers your wrists in a light coil, bringing them to cross at your back, and he swallows thickly at the imagery. Unable to entirely help himself, having only ever witnessed these events within fantasy, the darkness wraps itself also beneath your shins, raising them from the bed until your calves are pressing to the backs of your thighs, legs bent at the knee.

Breathing deeply, he pulls himself free, noting the slight tremors that run through your body, shuddering lightly from the aftershocks of pleasure, trembling beneath the beast who’s got you at his mercy. So out of it you can hardly understand what’s happening, reduced to a panting, drooling mess. A groan of pleasure rasps from his chest, guiding his tip to your entrance, and slowly…slowly easing in.

Your breaths stutter, small noises whimpering from your lips as your lids flutter with confusion, and he applies a light pressure to the base of your spine, having you curve lightly beneath him as he goes in…and in…and in. His breath fans against the nape of your neck, lips skimming the shell of your ear, and tears spill from your eyes, unable to help as you cry, unable to understand why after having had your mind so thoroughly toyed with.

Rhysand shifts, his forearm banding beneath your stomach to raise you up onto shaky knees, legs still bound while your face presses into the pillow, allowing him to press the entirety of himself inside, his hips meeting the backs of your thighs, at last finding home for that last inch he couldn’t fit into you when you were on your front. You whimper at the stretch, the fullness, the strange pleasure from having no space left inside of you. His lips press to the bare skin of the top of your shoulder, skimming the thin golden chain that remains loosely around your throat.

“So good,” he whispers beside you ear, voice shuddering as he presses his face to the crook of your shoulder, inhaling the thickness of your scent—he could come from that alone, from how you’re squeezing him, the pliancy of your body. “I knew you’d fit me perfectly, and feel how right I was.”

He shifts his weight, and your toes curl lightly, squirming beneath the pleasure, and Rhys can sense it will be a struggle to move, to gather the energy to bring a greater pleasure to both of you. It feels so good as it is, he almost doesn’t want to move, to simply bask in the wet heat of your cunt, the lost familiarity of your scent, the way your body slots so perfectly beneath his own.

You’re struggling internally, grappling for consciousness but overwhelmed by the pleasure he’s forcing into you. You can feel everything that’s happening, feel every thick inch of him that he’s pushed into you, yet can hardly even lift a finger to stop it, tears growing larger as they quietly wet the cotton of the pillow.

“Gods, you were fucking made for me,” he breathes roughly, sounding almost pained as he hoarsely whispers the confession of thought, and it has enough disgust gathering in the pit of your stomach to push you to the forefront of your mind, resurfacing and gasping for breath as you tense, awareness coursing through your blood, suddenly so acutely aware of every place you’re pressed together, every intimate touch of bare skin, and you try to recoil, to squirm away from him.

“Rhys get off me,” you hiss lowly, crying harder as you try to free yourself, but his shadows hold tight, keeping your wrapped up beneath him, physically unable to push him away or to claw at him as you would like to. Your cheek presses into the pillow, neck straining from the uncomfortable angle, the weight being pushed onto your shoulders from the position, and your gaze meets with dominating, depthless violet. You try to thrash, try to writhe away, but you can manage little more than a shift of your hips with the way he’s holding you.

“Aware again?” He murmurs softly, holding you a little tighter, pulling his hips back by a few inches, just to let you really feel as he presses back inside, cock touching against a sensitive spot that has a quiet sob escaping from your throat. “You were enjoying it so much,” he whispers cruelly, like a malevolent spirit urging you toward evil, silently goading and encouraging you away from the good, and instead forward into the bad. “Relax,” he muses besides your ear, your spine unwillingly arching as a shiver ghosts up your back.

Words of hate, of fury and disgust sit ready on your tongue, but he pulls his hips back again, and the breath you take is one you would breathe down before being dragged under a river’s icy surface. One you would take, knowing it might be your last.

He pulls out to his tip, then roughly pushes back in, pushing you into the pillow, and all sense is knocked from your head.

All sense from his, too.

A low growl rumbles through his chest, constraints dissolving to dust and ash as discipline crumbles like sand, disintegrating into nothing as both his hands roughly grip your hips, pulling back to slam into you. Deep, rough, thorough strokes that have his cock hitting spots inside of you, drool slipping over your lips as he fucks the protests out of your mind—fucks the moans from your mouth.

Your vision changes, unable to understand anything you’re seeing through the pure haze of pleasure, unable to take anymore after the two he’d forced through you without having to so much as trace the pad of his finger over your clit. And now he’s pounding into you, knocking the breath from your lungs, filling you up all the while you’re bound and tied, shackled and caged beneath him. For him to use as he pleases.

Tingling heat coils in the pit of your belly, and you’re not sure whether you would prefer the gathering orgasm to be of your own making or his. Whether you would rather it be your body naturally responding to his cruel, dominating pleasure, or for his daemati hands to have slipped into your mind again, fingers easing the puppet-strings to move in the correct formation to have the high rising so swiftly. You hardly have the capacity to consider the thought before it’s banished from your mind, darkness widening the stance of your knees on the mattress so they can twine between your legs, pushing and rubbing at your clit, slick and precum having mixed together, dripping down, slowly making you gleam with arousal that the darkness now uses to catapult you into the orgasm. Shoving you mercilessly into the boiling tempest of pleasure, holding your head below the raging waters so as to drown you in euphoria, to having it fill your lungs and burn at your eyes as it passes through your body.

Rhysand feels you trembling, crying out as you flutter and squeeze him, finding his own high with yours, canines flashing in a barely restrained snarl, teeth biting down into the appetising slope of your shoulder. He feels it as he spills inside of you, hot spurts of cum releasing from him directly into your cunt, and he continues bucking his hips to keep it all pressed deep inside, sloppily grinding against you until your body has ceased its shudders and you’re panting quietly, tears still dripping down your cheeks, nails having bitten deep into your palms but he doubts you’re at all aware of the pain in the moment.

The High Lord curses lowly, breathless as he pulls out of you, seeing how he’s coated in your arousal, wrapped in the evidence of your orgasm, a fresh wave of pleasure having soaked him in your slick, slightly creamy from his cum mixing in. He groans lowly, canine finding place in the corner of his lip as he bites lightly, stroking himself experimentally, then gritting his teeth from sensitivity.

Rhysand glances down at you, ass still kept in the air, trembling; unable to move yet from his shadows, and at once the hunger is renewed, grip tightening on himself as he hardens again. Arousal gathers within him, and he moves almost without thinking, guiding himself back to your entrance, despite how you cry as you feel him begin to push back in, forgetting you will be about to endure a fourth orgasm in less than quarter of an hour, while he is only starting on his second.

You cry out as he firmly presses back in, once again shoving the air from your lungs, and you flinch as the heel of his palm presses hard against the nape of your neck, thumb to one side while his fingers settle on the other, chaining you to the bed by your throat, and allowing him to… You swallow thickly, but struggle with his weight leaning on you.

“Rhys…” you rasp, panic setting in, realising what differences this will make; knowing you can’t take it. “Rhys… Rhys…!” You struggle frantically, arms tugging at the restraints as you try everything you can think of: thrashing against the bonds of your wrists, trying to rock your body side to side to turn over, using all your trembling strength to try and pull your legs free… “Rhys, please…Rhys listen—listen to me,” you cry, fingers moving as if trying to scratch him.

He pays you no mind, grip hardening on the nape of your neck as he pushes in, finding his pace again, following his own instincts this time, the feeling of your orgasm on his cock, how you’d fluttered around him…he’s undone.

Your breath turns more ragged, heart pounding as he increases the pace, feeling inside as it becomes rougher, more feral, more unrestrained, the damper of his power clean off as darkness sprawls across the bed. The rhythm becomes punishing, brutal bucks of his hips, and you nearly scream as he takes advantage of the position, putting his weight behind each thrust, pinning you down by your neck, fucking you into his bed with a conviction that’s obsessive.

Nails dig into your palms, muscles going taut as darkness presses to your clit, rubbing in mean, tight circles, far too harsh for how sensitive you are, thighs shaking with the cruel stimulation. You’re utterly helpless to the way your spine curves, how your toes curl, how you tighten around him with how good it feels—being so roughly treated, pleasure being so mercilessly infused into your body.

And this time, you know he’s tampering with your mind.

You scream as you come again, cock driving into you over and over until your voice gives out, his hips bucking into you in a way that has you forgetting the circumstances, silently begging for it not to end, to not let the pleasure slip away.

A dark grin curves his hellish mouth, daemati fingers effortlessly plucking on the puppet-strings, dragging the high out just as you’d silently prayed for.

But a mind can only take so much tampering. The High Lord knows this, had warned you about it himself before he’d pulled the first two from you. Yet in his haze, caught in his hunger, all he hears are your pleas, and his own mind is helpless to give more and more and more.

It’s only after he’s flipped you over, fucked you full, and sealed his mouth against your own that he realises you’ve passed out, mind exhausted from his relentless ministrations. He doesn’t want to stop, but he knows he can’t continue.

Gazing down at your body, head tipped to the side, your eyes already slightly puffy from crying, he feels a slight ache within his chest. He’s old enough to recognise regret when it appears, the cloying heaviness of guilt that’s so difficult to shake.

He brushes hair from your cheek, wet with saliva, and his thumb traces the curve beneath your lower lip, regaining his breath as he quietly looks over you. You’ll need to rest, to recuperate after the night. As much as he wants to keep you in his own bed, it will only make more damage, and he’s caused enough for the time being. Anymore and he might struggle to fix it.

As it is, he allows himself a few more minutes, leaning over your pliant body, brow pressing to your own as he cups your jaw. He supposes it’s a prayer of his own, though he can’t guess what to.

He’s not sure he wants to pray to something that would listen to him.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria

rhys taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

#dark!rhys #dark!rhys x reader #dark!rhys smut #dark!rhys x reader smut #dark!rhysand smut #dark!rhysand x reader #desk pet series

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arkhammaid · 1 year

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VIDEO FILES : #ORAL SEX on your knees

fandom. genshin impact

pairing. neuvilette, wriothesley x gn!reader

content warnings. nsfw, MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI, oral sex (male receiving) office/working place sex

word count. 0.6k

notes. welcome to my first kinktober fic!! very excited to share this with you all, i hope you'll enjoy it ^^

kinktober masterlist.

neuvillette is a very polite and elegant man. he wouldn’t dare to be caught in a compromising situation. any kind of affection is to be kept private, away from public eyes. and even then, he never dares to succumb to his darkest fantasies, whispering in his mind, instead he prefers to love you gently. only you have other plans, kneeling in front of him, nestled between his legs and hidden away from anyone who would dare to look closer.

he’s on his seat, above everyone else, focusing on the ongoing trial and trying to ignore your warm mouth on his cock. your slurping noises are incredibly loud in his ears but he knows no one can hear you over the shouting of the audience. his thighs shake beneath your hands, and he knows he’s flushed— but you take him so deep, so good and archons— how pretty you look, mouth stuffed, drooling and eyes tearing up— his hands are in your hair, trying to control the pace you set, anything to stop the pleasure zipping up his spine, the orgasm creeping up on him. but it only makes it worse, making you moan around him and he almost doubles over.

muffling his own moans, he can only hear you gag and gurgle, suddenly even more eager to make him come. and he does, cursing softly when you finally release his dick from your mouth, tongue painted white, presenting his cum with a coy look on your face. he’s leaning back on his seat, ignoring the increasing noise of concern around him, mouth going dry as you proceed to clean up his softening cock with your tongue.

never has he left a trial as chief justice since he had been appointed, but this day he excused himself, face flushed and a dark gaze in his eyes.

wriothesley, unlike others, will not hesitate to show his love for you in public. he’s not shy with kisses on your cheeks and lips, hands grabbing your waist or any kind of touch, that’s not too inappropriate for a noble. you like the attention, both in public and in private, but you love it even more to give some attention and care back. and if that means to have him backed at his working table, thighs spread and pants pooling around his ankles— if it means for you to sink onto your knees and suck him off, with his hands in your hair, guiding your movements—

well, who are you to complain? having him at your mercy, panting and moaning, a complete mess all because you kneel in front of him and give him back all the attention he has given you.

leaning back on his work desk, hips twitching with every motion of your tongue— wriothesley flushes oh so prettily when aroused. it starts with his cheeks, travels down his neck, head thrown back when you completely swallow him. and the noises he makes, choked and high pitched, so differently than his usual deep and gruff voice. as if that isn’t enough, he’s not shy either to praise you. filthy yet sweet words fill the room, accompanied by his pants and the wet noises from your mouth.

and then, when he finally comes, all over your face, you can’t help but stare at him, ignoring your aching jaw and knees. his head thrown back and eyes closed, his harsh face softened and vulnerable— all just for your eyes only.

ARKHAM MAID 2023

#neuvillette x reader #wriothesley x reader #neuvillette x you #wriothesley x you #neuvillette smut #wriothesley smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader #— ˚₊‧⁺˖ creations #after dark <3 #— ˚₊‧⁺˖ kinktober 2023

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weirdworldofwinnie · 10 months

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Oasis in a Desperate Land of Dark Desire - Part Six: Lover's Games

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Wife Reader NSFW 18+ only

Summary: You feel a need to follow up with Ernest Lawrence, much to Robert's dismay, and also uncover buried information that makes you turn rather rebellious.

Word Count: ~7,592

Warnings: Martial angst, infidelity, age gap, unwanted advances, slight physical violence, period stereotypical gender roles, clothed sex, some orgasm denial and sexual humiliation

Usual disclaimers apply, obviously NOT based on complete real life historical accuracy. It is essentially very much a dramatization and AU fantasy/fiction with Cillian as Oppenheimer, Josh Hartnett as Ernest Lawrence, Jack Quaid as Richard Feynman, etc. from the film only while other characters are my own entirely made up ones!

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Tag List: @forgottenpeakywriter, @frozenhuntress67, @immyowndefender, @szde8-blog, @bypurple, @irenethewoman, @uniquetacofun, @noirrose21-blog, @gridmouse86, @lacontroller1991, @kishie8, @anime-lover-forever-1127

If you'd like to be added to the list, let me know please.

June 1943

You waited a couple of weeks after the party to move past the point of just taking actual action only in consideration in the sense of springing a scheme by meeting up with Lawrence, keeping Robert under the radar all the while and he himself was certainly distant, (distracted by work of course) but also deliberately choosing to give you space. It was fine, but it made you uneasy of how much he was extracting his emotions and you were starting to feel as if you were on a carpet of thin eggshells every moment you and him were alone together, which was usually only at night sleeping in the same bed.

Weekday dinners were a polite affair as well and you mostly ate for yourself, him eating a portion of his plate before he went to shut himself in his designated office room and came to bed hours into the wee morning. He was gone longer now during the day and one early evening, you found yourself cleaning the house alone with no company or pressing responsibilities to attend to, and you went into his office, rearranging his paperwork and dusting the bookshelves when you decided to take a peek into his desk, knowing he kept many personal writings there. Perhaps a poem or musing that could give an indication of what was happening inside his brain and why you were hitting a cold patch in the marriage.

After sifting through many documents, discarded calculations, and correspondence letters, you finally found his dearest belongings buried in the bottom drawer. You knew several of these, for they were cards - birthday, anniversary, well-wishers from the wedding - and some of your own (love poems, really) that you had exchanged with him and even simple notes of wanting to meet for dinner, a party, vacation at his Perro Caliente ranch, anything that merited invitation. You grew teary at a few, oddly nostalgic even though it was only a couple of years ago. But this project had somehow changed everything out of alignment.

A thin stack of folded papers wedged in-between a Valentine's Day card from you last year and inside an envelope that had a wax heart the color of dried blood stamped on it caught your attention and you carefully peeled the corners back to extract the papers, which looked to be three separate pieces creased into halves. You took the one on top and unfolded it to reveal a letter. It had no formal or informal greeting and you blinked, reading the words in your husband's scrawling cursive handwriting. The first few lines seemed more like a diary entry than anything else until you read further...

Well, I am wearier lately than anyone could possibly guess because I have grown adept at adopting a mask of confidence and optimism. But it is a foolish man's desire to remain unchanged and hopeful in his situations that require more than words to express... I know you understand the moody tides well, my love, and I often wonder if you are feeling the bluing void edging on again as you often do, verging on the whole of complete consumption. Though it would be more appropriate to call it black as death itself; blue has been wrongly shamed in this case, although you could drown in my eyes.

Safe to say, I very much miss your presence and touch, the way you find comfort in me as if we are beyond mortal man and woman. Naturally, there are other parts of me that yearn for you as well, but I'm sure you could pinpoint exactly what. It wouldn't be proper to state it here, although I will never be sending this to you Jean. I sincerely hope you never read this because if you do, that means the war is ongoing and I have not evolved past this spout of melancholy. It is hard to determine the future when oneself is so pegged on the past and present... I feel as though I am stuck between the slides. How do I let myself be with you and yet here all at once? You feel light years away from me, though it is only a mere thousand miles, isn't it? I feel closer to the dying stars than compared to my active obligations here on Earth.

"Don't be an idiot, Robert, and alienate the few people who most understand you because one day you might need them." I can hear you say it now and I'm afraid I did exactly that to you but for reasons more monumental than myself. I thank you for being understanding over the phone, but I must remain in this slide while you are busy in your own microcosm of the world and it is easier to miss you, but I should place a bet against myself to see exactly how long this separation lasts. If you'll have me, I look forward to loving you in two or three year's time. I hope by then I do not fall out of the concept of love entirely and with an expiration date instead because that would be a tremendous dissatisfaction if you found another bull who could never match my (nor your) intellect. He would never deserve such a naughty angel as yourself and I myself won't let you linger past my mind too much longer, I promise.

Forever yours (or not, though I hope the prior),

Robert

He had added a postscript, written in original Sanskrit from The Bhagavad Gita and you squinted, seeing familiarity. You jumped up and went to the bookshelves, seeking out his copy and thumbing through the pages, finding the scripture that matched his handwriting and you recognized the passage as he had shown and translated it to you once.

And now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.

Why the fuck would he add that in as a PS in a pining love letter to his ex-girlfriend?

You put the book back and went to sit down on the floor beside his desk with the letter and other ones, which you dreaded opening in case they were more in the tone of lovesickness about Jean. You felt stunned and yet at the same time, unsurprised as if this was to be expected and maybe it was. It further proved that Robert hadn't completely emotionally filed Jean away as you'd thought and was planning on loving her again someday... Or he had just been really, really drunk when he composed this, but you highly doubted it.

Hands shaking, you set that letter aside gingerly as if it contained a deadly chemical and picked up a second folded piece of paper. When you opened it, you audibly gasped.

My Kitty,

I do hope you are well and pursuing a better life for yourself in the useful field of biology. Forgive me, I must be ridden with a fever, but wouldn't it be fortuitous if we perchance crossed paths in San Francisco one summer day? My flamboyant impossible imagination has flooded me again, so I'll indulge here: I'd see you out shopping and hopefully you would be with only female company (I take it your husband would be working, unless you have divorced) and we could strike up a conversation that led us to my Cadillac parked in the shadows of the shade, and I'd let you take refuge from the heat as my passenger and then I'd take your beautiful hand...

He had deeply scratched out the rest, but you could definitely make out a few lines of erotic poetry. In reaction, you bit your bottom lip so hard you nearly drew blood, and then reached for the last one, which was not a letter in the traditional sense, but more of a hastily scribbled note on an index card.

I need to see you soon. From one 'R' to another, you always have me at my truest regards.

You angrily swore aloud and started crumple this note, but paused. If you confronted him about it, this could blow up for both of you and you couldn't have that right now in the midst of life here for the project. No one was or could get divorced, that was not an option. No, you had to keep this secret and try to get back at him more stealthily. Robert clearly loved other women too much, that was it, and this was tangible of that. Enough was enough and it spurred on you to see the fellow you'd been avoiding since the party.

The next day, you went to Technical Area 1 and walked towards one of lab buildings, immediately noticed by the soldiers on guard and they came over, shaking their heads at you and your security clearance button, lower than permitted in such a site. You'd had to sweet talk your way just past the fencing to get to this point, but these particular hardened men didn't look swayable.

"I need to speak with my husband, it's urgent. Please," you begged dramatically, wringing your hands, and the men glanced at one another.

"He's preoccupied with his colleagues now, but we'll be sure to let him know about whatever it is, Mrs. Oppenheimer."

You pursed your lips, realizing they weren't going to let you just waltz into the building without an extremely good excuse, which you couldn't say.

"Fine. Good day, sirs." You walked far away from them and they went back to their business as you glanced around inconspicuously for an alternative entrance, going to another side. You found an unoccupied back door and hurried towards it, heart picking up pace.

"What are you doing?" a male voice called shrewdly from nearby behind.

"Shit," you muttered, whipping around to see a very suspicious Officer Nichols standing several feet away. Thankfully though, he was solitary.

"I'll have to report this, you know," he warned as you backed towards the shut door, forcing a big smile.

"Or what? You'll shoot me for finding my own husband?"

"Depends on the context. Dr. Oppenheimer is a very busy man and I'm sure he has much better to do with his limited time than to entertain his diligent token housewife."

You flushed angrily, feeling for the doorknob and of course it was locked.

"I swear to God I'm not doing anything else but speaking to him. I hardly know squat about quantum mechanics and the nature of his work," you lied, trying to appear absolutely innocent.

"Then what is so important you need to interrupt proceedings?" Officer Nichols asked sharply, coming closer.

"It's a highly urgent personal matter."

"I see." He paused, darting his eyes up and down the length of your body for a second before he spoke curiously.

"You haven't physically left The Hill since your arrival, is that correct?"

"Yes...?" you replied, unsure of where he was going with this.

Nichols stared at you for a moment through his glasses glinting in the midday sun and you looked back, locked in a strange thirty second unnerving silence of equilibrium. Finally he moved, stepping forward and nodding.

"I'll personally make sure that you never do."

"But no, I... I was planning on going shopping for supplies with some of the ladies this weekend in Santa Fe?"

He was silent and you were surprised when he took out a ringlet of keys, going to unlock the door.

"We all must make sacrifices, Mrs. Oppenheimer, and I'm sure your husband would agree. This is your reward for the loss of such a privilege, so go now before I change my mind and report you to General Groves."

You quickly darted inside without a backward glance, heart thudding in aftermath of the interaction. Did he really mean that? Would he get in trouble if someone found out? Or more importantly, would you get in a tight spot for sneaking around?

You strode through the maze of hallways past lab rooms, offices, and the like until you heard dull voices up ahead and saw Robert's back, face to the chalkboard, through a half-cracked door. The scientists turned to stare when they heard your heels come to a halt in the doorway, looking away from their paperwork and the blackboard. The awkward silence was deafening; a pin could drop at any moment and a man coughed, just to relieve the stagnant air. The lone female physicist of the group, Dr. Lilli Hornig, gave you a curious look with a quick polite smile as she scribbled something on a piece of paper. Robert froze with a cigarette in one hand and a piece of whittled chalk in the other, his blues boring into your face out of sheer shock.

"Y/N, what are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

"No. I merely need to borrow that man right there for a moment of time. It's a personal matter," you announced crisply, pointing straight at Ernest Lawrence, whose expression morphed from surprise and to utter bemusement.

"Excuse me, then," he muttered and stood up, shuffling papers self consciously before making his way to you, moving down the hallway. You randomly led him to an empty storage room and opened the door, lightly pushing him inside.

"What are you doing?" he asked empathically as you faced him in the middle of the room, steadying yourself as you looked up at him, unaccustomed to being so close to a man considerably taller and bulkier than Robert's physicalie.

"Remember a couple weeks ago in May at last month's party?" you asked briskly and his brow furrowed in realization.

"Admittedly, not as much as I should. Oppie jokingly mentioned the next day afterwards about needing to restrict the amount liquor we're consuming at the house when you're hosting because we're not frat boys," he replied with an honest shrug.

"Do you recall that kiss you gave me out of the blue?"

His face flexed, eyebrows shooting up as his mouth twitched in guilty humor and you narrowed your eyes.

"Yes, perhaps a bit of it. In my defense though, I wasn't quite all there and there was talk going around, silly talk. I was dared into doing it, actually."

Now your own eyebrows mimicked his at this confession and you stepped closer, toe-to-toe with his shoes.

"Who dared you?"

"Promise to keep it to yourself?"

"Sure."

"Richard was the instigator and then the rest of the guys coaxed him on. Absolute ridiculousness we never would have done otherwise, I swear to you it's the high altitude of this place having an effect on our immature raucous behavior combined with alcohol."

"Feynman? The rascal, I could've guessed," you rolled your eyes disapprovingly and he sighed, shifting slightly on his feet.

"I really do apologize for the regrettable behavior, I sincerely promise it won't happen again," he told you seriously and you cocked your head slightly, giving him a once-over.

"Do you find me attractive?"

Lawrence immediately grew reserved and reluctant, making a grimace.

"Oh, I... I, oh no, I don't think it would be permissible to answer that."

"Go ahead. I dare you."

He swallowed nervously and came close with intimidation, making you stagger back all the way to the wall behind you, where he placed a hand up on it by your head, leaning in intimately and his warm breath tickled your cheeks.

"Yes, I suppose. But I'm happily married and certainly not looking for trouble or to wreck your own marriage. You must think I'm a very lousy friend," he admitted quietly.

"I think you underestimate me, Doctor," you whispered, nearly a purr, as you moved close and brushed his cheek with your fingers. He tried to speak, but you shushed him and gently removed his glasses, letting them dangle in your grip as you tilted into him, pressing your other hand firmly to his broad chest, squeezing the fabric of his vest.

Footsteps suddenly sounded from the hall outside, so you made it fast, giving Ernest a fast peck on the lips, just in time as then the door briskly yanked open and Robert poked his head in dubiously. You leaned back, still holding the glasses and Lawrence fumbled for them, accidentally interlocking fingers as your husband stared in confused disbelief.

"Y/N? What is the meaning of all this? We have work to do, why are you taking up his time?"

"Oppie, it's fine, we were just..." Ernest paused, readjusting rims of the glasses back on his face and he turned to you, a bit breathless.

"What were we talking about exactly?"

"All your great achievements, including the Nobel Prize, in contributing to the advancement of science, most notably your famous cyclotron and I was inquiring about the exact mechanics of how such a thing works. Something along the lines of high energy particles and acceleration...?"

"Right, because you were going to write to your father, who is curious about it," he caught on, proliferating this cock-and-bull conversation.

"And why do you need to interrupt our work about that? Aren't you supposed to elsewhere?" Robert asked, not hiding annoyance in plain sight. You could feel Ernest staring, gaze locked on you and your stomach butterflied, but you gave a brave face.

"You mean my womanly duties at home?" you snapped back.

"Yes, or however you may call it. Now, we need our physicist back if you'll pardon me." He beckoned Lawrence urgently and the man reluctantly pulled himself away from you, clearly ashamed and flustered. Once he was out of the room, Robert stepped inside and shut the door closed with snap. His face was taunt and irritated, fingers habitually fiddling for the ghost of a cigarette.

"What are you playing at here?" he demanded, already hurt without any explanation.

"Just a follow up to our last meeting," you said causally enough to anger him. He crossed to meet you in two strides, catching your wrist and lifting up your arm, interlacing his fingers very tightly with yours as he spoke lowly, intensively.

"What is the matter, am I not giving you enough? Do I not provide enough for you? You feel an urge to court my best man and colleague all of a sudden because you are bored of your humdrum domesticity? Is that what you love about Los Alamos, the fine selection of like-minded substitutes once you tire of me? Am I not enough?" His voice raised before he caught himself, releasing a shaky breath. He was genuinely upset and you felt rotten, but only for a second. It's not like he was clean in this either.

"Don't be ridiculous. I swear, you always assume the worst of me," you scoffed in response.

"Well, I certainly know a cheat when I see one," he said bitterly, twisting his fingers out of yours and dropping his arm.

"Yes, you would know indeed. But Jesus, Robert, he's only a friend, your friend I might add, and it was only a bit of fun, nothing serious. You said it yourself, it's good for him to loosen up. What else are parties for?"

"Right. Oh, yes, I'm sure that's exactly it," he replied sarcastically.

"He started it, you know, after Richard dared him to kiss me apparently at the party."

"Then I'll be speaking to both of them. But you need to stop it, quit acting so childish and inappropriate over this. You're smarter than this shtick and there is too much at stake to be partaking in silly juvenile romantic games."

"You do realize I'm at least fifteen years younger than you, right? You can't expect me to be, well, whatever it is called to be at your age. Old, is it?" you mocked and normally that would've sounded very rude in any other situation, but he knew your sharp side all too well to take it too seriously, especially when delivered with a teasing smile.

"You couldn't think of a worse slander than 'old'?" he scoffed, unimpressed, and you snorted, tapping the knot of his tie affectionately.

"The point is, I am indeed younger than you."

"So? I have no issue with that and you have proved yourself very capable of co-existence so far, I think you are quite mature for your age actually, at least until now... But I don't think biological age matters in love."

"I was just over eighteen when you began courting me and you used to flirt with your few female physics students that were no older," you reminded him and he diverted his gaze, tapping his foot anxiously and he distractedly flicked out a cigarette from his pocket pack, lighting it in a second and puffing in response. You stepped back from the plume of smoke, glancing towards the window and crossing your arms. He exhaled loudly and jerked his hand to point the cigarette at you and then spoke with ultimatum.

"I don't want to see you enter this laboratory with the intention of unnecessary interruption ever again. I will tell the officers outside to stop and restrain you if you do. Hell, I'll take these matters to the General if I have to, you hear me on that?"

"I certainly do as a matter of fact and I also know for a fact that you'd be wasting his time. Petty marriage squabbles isn't a high priority or forte for a high-ranking military man like him. But as for you, well, now you know what it feels like to be jeopardized over another human being," you countered.

"My ties are very different and I would never think to do it so publicly! I am discreet about such internal, highly private business," he exclaimed, getting frustrated with this discussion and this made you laugh humorlessly.

"Bullshit and you know that. I saw you a week before our wedding walking hand in hand with Jean down Shasta Road and what about that time afterwards when our friends saw you dancing with-"

He quickly talked louder, running over your words heatedly.

"No, no, no. You are just feeding into this ridiculousness and fabricating a relationship that isn't there!"

"Maybe so, but I thought it would be a good lesson, or test, for you and if this is any indicator, you've been bothered. I take heart in that you must love me so that it has unnerved you to see me with another man."

"There was never any doubt that I love you. Christ, if that's what this is all about..." He sighed, rubbing his creased forehead briefly before walking backwards to the door, opening it up and you could hear the dull chatter of voices from the other room.

"Well?" you asked when he didn't do anything, just standing with hands on his hips.

"I want you to do whatever it is that pleasures you, just as long as it doesn't happen to be luring my top physicist and close friend in a back room during the middle of a workday. Have some standard decency for God's sake," he spat, the words stinging, and you crystalized, uncrossing your arms and shaking your head at the hypocrisy.

"I never noticed it until we came here, but Ruth sure has your attention, doesn't she?"

"Pardon?" He blinked.

"You heard me."

"Ruthie has nothing to do with this and how dare you drag her name through your muddled mood today."

"Ruthie?" You rolled your eyes at clear affection underlying his tone.

"Listen to yourself Robert, you have feelings for her, you've always been close."

"She's a very dear friend, one of the few people I can truly confide in and share my emotions with, nothing more," he insisted.

"Am I part of that select number of confidants?"

"Of, of course. Has our entire marriage been for naught? I cannot believe your attitude over this, it's deplorable."

"It must be very nice to be you, Robert. No one here in Los Alamos casts open judgement upon you," you commented bitterly and he cringed, closing his eyes for a brief moment before staring back at you.

"Not yet, anyway," he answered with a tone of cryptic ominousness and you only frowned, shoving past him to exit the building.

A full twenty four hours passed without further incident until you haphazardly ran into Feynman on the street, just the man you were looking for.

"Richard?"

"Yeah?" He stopped and gave you a familiar cocky smile which dropped at the narrowed eyes and serious expression you were giving him.

"Oh, is this about the party? I didn't think he'd even do it, I apologize for our frivolousness that night. Clearly very unacceptable." He cleared his throat awkwardly and you leaned close, speaking in a low murmur.

"Do me a favor?"

"Uh, sure...?"

"I have an assignment for you: Find me a single man - preferably scientist - in this town, anyone remotely attractive will do, but no close friends or direct colleagues of Robert's, it has to be at least second or third tier from his inner circle and single - I'm not crossing into some other woman's territory - and arrange me a date with him in secret. Think of it as an experimental equation: One attempted devoted wife plus one all-but-labeled womanizer husband plus unsuspecting stag. It's time to give someone a taste of his own sweet and sour medicine."

"Oh, you feel like causing a scandal, do you? It won't take a mathematician to see what it'll will add up to." He chuckled in disbelief but then dropped his voice, casting wary glances around at passing residents, or civilians, as everyone who was non-military were officially called.

"Are you quite sure about this?"

"If I let my conscience speak, then no. But if I let every other fiber of my being, then yes. Will you do it?"

"I... I can't, no, this is beneath us," he protested, scratching the back of his neck in discomfort.

"It's one event at a casual party, it's quite another outside... Well, you know. Real tampering with people's lives has consequences and I'm not sure I'm the man for this job, I think if maybe, it-"

"I'll pay you," you interrupted quickly and he quirked an eyebrow and leaned closer.

"How much?" he whispered curiously.

"Twenty?"

"Make it 100 and you've got yourself a deal. I'll do it and you can pay me later at your convenience. Now excuse me, but I have some business elsewhere."

He hurried off and there was no further word until one early morning you came into the kitchen as Robert was dressing his toast and brewing coffee, and you were surprised to see a bouquet of long stemmed red roses on the table. Naturally, you looked to him as his habit of flower gifting was infamous, but he was staring just as confounded as you were. He seemed positively rattled, in fact.

"Did you...?" he asked and you echoed that same question.

"Did you?"

"No, I haven't been flower picking as of late," he replied dryly with a taut closed smile and then it dawned on you. Could it be from the mystery date you'd sent Feynman to set up?

"I'll put them in the living room, shall I? They'll get the strong afternoon light that will illuminate their velvety rouge petals," you expressed and he nodded emotionlessly, turning back to the toast and grabbing the pot of coffee.

Once you were alone in the lounge, you carefully inspected the flowers; they were beautiful and fairly fresh, only one or two were curling at the tips from the heat and as you held it up to admire, there was a small square piece of paper taped on the bottom of the skinny glass vase: It was a thin note, reading of a scrambled code of some sorts. You smirked, knowing it had to be Feynman who did this; he was always writing letters in code to his ailing sweetheart stuck in Albuquerque.

"Y/N, have you seen my badge? It's gone missing!" Robert called anxiously from the kitchen and you quickly tore the note off the bottom and tucked it into your pajamas.

"You probably left it on the dresser," you called back to him absentmindedly.

Once he left for the day, you sat down and worked to crack the code, which wasn't terribly hard considering it was predictable; boiling down to an address, date and time. You'd hoped for a name of the mystery gentleman, but didn't seem to get one.

That evening, you dressed in one of your finest silk dresses, red in color as the roses, and made your way to the bachelor's dormitory on the other side of town. You technically weren't allowed to be transversing around here, especially at this hour, and you cringed at a couple of catcalling whistles from young drunken men loitering outside. You ignored them, hurrying up the stairs to the mystery man's dorm and knocked once. The door opened, almost cautiously, and a decent looking young man stood there, his short brunette hair combed back and he wore a well pressed suit but with a blue tie slightly out of alignment.

"Good evening, Ma'am," he greeted in a pleasant voice and you automatically blushed, staring into his eyes which were a very watered-down literation of Robert's own blues; if his were the ocean, this man's were a lake on a grey skied afternoon and it made you feel a tad sad about doing this. Of course no man's eyes could ever quite compare.

"Hello...?" you trailed off, needing a name to this blind date of yours.

"My name is Anthony, Mrs. Oppenheimer."

"Pleasure to meet you and please, that makes me sound old and tethered. Just call me Y/N."

He nodded, stepping aside and you went inside, closing the door behind you as you surveyed the somewhat neat living quarters consisting of basic furniture and scattered paperwork and magazines.

"I apologize if this is rather awkward, but I take it Richard gave you the details?"

"More or less," Anthony answered and the way he was ogling at you wasn't so much like piece of meat, but out of respect and disbelief that he had actually had a date with the wife of the top dog scientific director of Los Alamos.

"Would you care for a drink? I just have, uh, scotch if that's alright. Probably different from what you're used to," he murmured the last part and you assured him quickly it was alright.

"Yes I would, thank you."

He handed a half filled glass to you gently and you noticed his hands were trembling slightly.

"You don't have to be nervous, I'm really not all that remarkable. I may have my husband's name, but I'm certainly not him, you know. We all bask in the long reaching shade of Oppie, don't we?"

"Right, of course," he chuckled, offering you a seat on the sofa and taking a sip of his own, regarding you impressively.

"Have you ever been with a woman before?" you asked tenderly and he shrugged, still rather timid.

"I was dating a girl back in college but we broke off right before I signed onto the project."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty four," he answered.

"Good, not younger than me; I suppose we are perhaps compatible then in that respect. You don't need to hear my life story, but I was a year in studying medicine at Stanford until this and now I suppose I'm just another housewife at the moment." You sighed, taking a small sip and nodding at him pleasantly.

"So what do you do here, generally? I take it you aren't one of the boys in Oppie's so-called cult?"

"No, I'm an engineer actually. I work in one of the labs, hands on, none of that theoretical bunch."

You nodded approvingly and there was a lapse of silence until he gestured with his glass, sloshing the liquid slightly.

"So I take it you're quite unhappy with... with Dr. Oppenheimer if you wanted to meet with another man?" he asked cautiously, disguising excitement.

"No questions, if you don't mind. I'm not here to talk about him," you replied seriously and he nodded fervently, setting the drink down on the side table.

"Yes, right. I apologize. I guess that doesn't leave much formalities then." He paused, swiping his tongue across his lips.

"I'd like to kiss you if that's not rushing too much," he proposed politely, but with a tone of urgency.

"Go right ahead." You braced as he leaned in, inches from your lips and you shared air for a second before he plunged forward, groping your mouth fast and lightly. But it felt all so wrong. You lightly pulled back, his hands not even holding your face like Robert always did so there wasn't much real intimacy, and glanced to the floor self consciously.

"I'm sorry, I can't do this," you murmured guiltily. Maybe it wasn't even your conscience; maybe he just wasn't the right guy.

"But I thought you wanted it...?" Anthony's brows furrowed in hurt confusion and offense, so you quickly backpedaled.

"Not here, we can't do anything here. How about... Do you want to come over to my home?" you blurted out abruptly and he swallowed.

"But is-isn't your husband home?"

"That's the point."

Gathering courage for the both of you, Anthony then stood and took your hand to walk you to the door, leading you out down to the street level and the two of you walked all the way to Bathtub Row together. You could tell he was in awe of these homes that were larger and much better constructed.

"So this is how the other side lives." Anthony gave a low whistle and you laughed, bumping his side gently.

"Don't worry. We use the same water, electricity, and plumbing as you do, it's just a little more glamorous and I promise you anyone living in Los Alamos to work on the project is not substandard or lower class, even if the military may be rather degrading at times. It's all just a socially constructed hierarchy."

He squeezed your waist affectionately and you led him to the house, telling him to wait by the shrubs as you walked around to peer into the windows to see if Robert was still up, which you'd be surprised if he wasn't, and indeed he was: reclining in an armchair by the fireplace, reading and puffing on his pipe.

You signaled to Anthony to come closer and he crossed the yard to stand by the side of the house, appearing wary. He mouthed 'do you see him?' and you nodded, turning your back to the window and beckoned to him to move close. He carefully did so until he was a few inches from your face and you swallowed at the intimacy, the daring nerve to kiss a man right in front of the windowpanes where your husband sat in the living room.

"Kiss me, but passionately this time, no holding back. Just pretend it's only the two of us, okay?" you whispered and he breathed in, parting lips.

"Is this a dream?" he whispered and you giggled lightly, straddling his body and cupping the back of his neck, hairs bristling your fingers.

"Only if you want it to be, but no telling anyone when you wake up, understand?"

"No one would believe me... I feel as though I'm about to commit a great sin against the Oppenheimer unity, I can't believe I'm going to do this," he admitted with a dark chuckle.

"I can," you breathed and before you knew it, his lips connected to yours and the kiss was actually amazingly passionate indeed for two people who just personally met tonight. You breathed in his musky scent and intertwined tongues, smooshing noses and you felt him push you up against the window, arms embracing you whole and you secretly hoped it would eventually catch Robert's attention. Your intention was just one full kiss, but now this man had you, he seemed reluctant to let go as you began to lean back from his mouth, head lightly conking against the window. Anthony groped your breasts hungrily and you felt his hard-on pressing against your thigh as your bodies rubbed, the kissing becoming sloppier and for a moment, you completely forgot what you'd done this for. A faint yell came from somewhere and Anthony grew more attached, tightening his grasp on your frame, kissing harder and you started to feel a slight wetness in your panties.

"Stop! Get off of her! Please, that's my wife!" Robert's voice called in audible distress and you realized this must look a lot worse than it was, and you had to admit this man was getting a bit rougher as his more primal desire came to fruition and you grunted, turning your head and trying to wriggle out from underneath his locking embrace.

"That's enough, enough," you murmured anxiously, but he wasn't stopping.

"You said this could be my dream, can't ya let me finish first?" Anthony growled in your ear, but you were done, having successfully alarmed your husband. This wasn't meant to go further and quite frankly, you were unnerved how quickly it had escalated. He wasn't quite the shy gentleman scientist anymore once he was aroused, but you supposed these types of adventures did bring out the animalistic behavior in most after all.

Simple souls, Robert had said once of human beings.

Unfortunately, he was now witness to such a 'simple man' about to take you right on the windows of his stone and log cabin style house.

"STOP THAT NOW!" Robert yelled off to the right and you felt Anthony being forcefully tugged away, his arm flailing out and trying to grasp, catching your hair and you winced as he accidentally yanked painfully.

You were suddenly released and you gasped, sidestepping and watching in shock as Robert tried to jump on the man, his belt removed from his waist and gripped tightly in his hands as he wrestled it aggressively around Anthony's neck, constricting with enough force to make him gag and choke.

"Robert, no!" you shouted, rushing forward and attempting to pull him away, but it was as if he were deaf to the wind.

"I demand you to LEAVE my property at once and to NEVER see my wife, or this won't end on civilized terms," he threatened loudly and you'd never seen such a fire in his piercing eyes before. It intrigued and frightened you, considering he was not a brute in any sense. Anthony pleaded through his choking, whimpering pathetically, until Robert finally backed off, snapping the belt and huffing.

The other man stumbled up to his feet and held up his hands in surrender as Robert squinted in the dark, trying to fully identify him.

"I'm terribly apologetic Dr. Oppenheimer, sir, I won't bother you or the Mrs. anymore, I'll be right on my way!"

Anthony ran like a bat out of hell from the property and once it was silent, Robert turned to you with heavy breaths, the belt hanging limply at his side. You took one look and then rushed inside in the house, kicking off your heels in the hallway and dashing into the bedroom, slamming the door, heart pounding a sprint.

Moments later, you heard his clodding footsteps and anxious voice calling out desperately, the door bursting open.

"Jesus Christ, are you alright?" he gasped as you shrunk away from him, still feeling Anthony's hands all over you and the whole guilt imploded, resulting in a sudden overflow of tears.

"Fuck, Robert! It's all my fault, I told Richard Feynman to set us up and I told Anthony to come here as a show to make you jealous and it advanced, I promise he meant no harm, we just wanted-"

"You did this on purpose?" he interrupted, betrayal lighting his features and you wiped messily at the tears streaming down your own.

"Yes! I kissed him on purpose! I wanted to spite you, I'm sorry but I cannot handle this anymore! I wanted to hurt and infuriate you like you do to me with your blatant love of other women! I bribed Richard $100 for a date with a single scientist, I didn't know what I'd get, but I'm glad you saw us together, it is only fair when I have to read love letters to past girlfriends... or are they just current 'friends'?!"

His mouth gaped and the frown lines appeared, creasing his forehead in prudent anger.

"The audacity... I suppose I indeed underestimated you, my sweet Aphrodite," he said lowly, voice a low rumble and despite everything you actually felt a shiver of arousal in your core.

In two strides, he met you at the foot of the bed, grabbing your head in a vice and in a bizarrely dominant twist, pinned you down to the bed, trapping you underneath him and yet you saw the uncertainty flicker. He was pretending to be so dominant, but couldn't take the reins fully.

Oh, Oppie.

"Roll over," you ordered sharply and he did, collapsing onto his back as you unbuttoned his pants and yanked them down hastily, staring at his cock straining against his boxers. You placed your palm on it, teasing him and he moaned softly, shaking his head at the deviousness on your face.

"No, please. Please, let me out, please don't do this, please..."

Begging. He was actually begging. After he just had attacked a man outside and was reeling from your confession, he was here at an embarrassingly burgeoning erection.

"I'm so close that I don't need you inside me, but I think you need a bit more help, is that right?" you whispered condescendingly and he gulped, eyes wide dilated marbles.

"I'm sorry about all of it, I never meant t-to-" he sputtered off as you clapped a hand to his mouth and you straddled his body, legs quivering with anticipation.

His penis grew harder and a clear wet stain bled through the fabric, causing him to squirm underneath you and you smiled, bumping up and grinding against clothed erection. You yelped at the sudden rush of internal pleasure and his hands gripped your dress at the hips, gasping along with your heaves and whines, but he himself was yet to peak. He seemed mortified as you then sat back and placed firm hands down on his crotch, holding his bulge tightly. He groaned, mortified as you wouldn't let him go, and after stretching him out to his limits for too long, a single squeeze brought him to a full climax, absolutely soaking his boxers and he threw his head back on the pillow, reveling in the orgasm.

Panting, you climbed off him and he weakly sat up, holding out a hand with the other on his wet crotch in sheer humiliation. You left the bed, gathering your appearance and catching breath.

"No, don't... Don't leave," he requested desperately from his spot on the bed and you shook your head, tousling hair as you glanced over at him.

"Clean up your own mess, darling," you told him firmly, a metaphor as much as a literal one.

He sighed, swinging legs off the bed and hobbling off to the bathroom as you began to undress, slipping out of the dress and into a bedtime robe.

He came back in, clean but utterly naked, and his dick was still dripping a smidge at the tip.

"You very much ruined a good pair of my underwear," he complained and you merely shrugged, patting the bed as you crawled in and he joined, scooting under the sheets and pulling you close, resting his forehead at yours, speaking in a mutter.

"You just had to stoop low with that male 'catch' of yours, didn't you?"

"That's not very nice, darling. Anthony seemed like a nice man and he's an engineer, I'll have you know."

"He isn't a third of the man I am."

"No one is you, Robert. That's why I went to another man in the first place."

"I truly wanted to suffocate the life out of him, I would have maimed him quite seriously had I lacked control. I haven't thought of doing such a terrible action since my Cambridge episodes, my terrible fits of jealousy... I suppose I expressed protection over you," he mused grimly.

"It's the thought that counts," you commented darkly.

"I can be so impulsive and erratic... You and everyone knows quite well how I was going to poison my tutor; I had injected potassium cyanide in the body of that innocent apple and left it on his desk..."

You remembered it had been Jean who had offhandedly first mentioned this story to you and she had assured you it was only because he was going through a very difficult phase in his life and actually all he needed to feel fulfilled was to just "get laid" as she aptly put it. Funnily enough, 'getting laid' was the least of Robert's problems now.

He took your hand at the moment and grasped too hard, squeezing your fingers, leaning towards you anxiously and speaking urgently.

"Listen, and I mean this very much: Don't ever see another man, I don't think I can do this again without gravely spraining my heart."

"And your enormous ego," you added the obvious with a small smile and he returned it, also giving you a light kiss on the cheek and cuddling in close.

"I love you," he offered gently and you shot him a glance, unable to hide the blushing smirk.

"Touché."

190 notes · View notes

strangesmallbard · 5 months

Text

bg3 characters if they worked at publix/safeway/your grocery store of choice:

karlach: in charge of anything that involves moving heavy objects between locations, but also works produce. LOVES helping old ladies take their groceries to the car; will accidentally abandon the vegetables at least once per shift. (she does apologize to the vegetables.) also is a pallet stacking master in the most haphazard configurations that, somehow, miraculously never fall over. frequently posts her monstrosities on r/publix, alongside a selfie of her giving a cheeky thumbs up.

wyll: store manager, in his second year of a master’s degree in public policy. optimistic like a sword is optimistic. WILL make sure you take your mandated break and will hand out store giftcards for a job well done. does not suffer customers who behave badly. is roommates and longtime best friends with karlach; the energy they exude while together either makes your shift bearable or unbearable, depending.

shadowheart: works the in-store coffee counter. probably should not because she always looks vaguely disgusted, annoyed, or bored. the dark circles under her eyes are always there no matter how many espresso shots she sips. has anonymously complained to corporate about the store’s music choices. every new employee thinks they have a shot with her until she hits them with the 👁️😐 did you need something? 👁️😐 and they slink away, feeling chastised for reasons unknown.

minthara: works the meat and/or fish counter. smokes seventeen packs per mandated break. always smells a little bit like red meat. has the most insane combat stories but it’s completely unclear whether she’s a veteran or just someone who gets into situations on purpose. every 20-something employee is at least mildly obsessed with her whole thing, but she’ll only humor karlach. no one knows where she lives.

lae’zel: 22-year-old grocery team lead. typically works the 5pm-11pm shift, but still obviously runs that shit like a navy seal base. has encyclopedic knowledge of grocery store codes and also lore. during mandated breaks she can be found doing one-armed pushups, argueflirting with shadowheart, or scribbling poetry in a notebook. she’s also the pitcher on her college’s varsity baseball team; everyone shows up to her big games and she fails at not looking overwhelmed by joy every time.

jaheira: beloved customer service manager, knows literally everything and everyone. taught wyll everything he knows about not suffering customers who behave badly. often goes mountain climbing with her scary 39-year-old girlfriend astele who owns the smoke shop next door. sells the best weed you’ll ever smoke in your life.

gale: day shift manager counterpart to lae’zel, postdoc who needs the job to make rent obviously. constantly gives aisle directions for the store location he worked during undergrad and shelves the soup cans all wrong. WILL show you photos of his cat. constantly recognized by his booktube fans (he also streams sims 4 builds of classic sci fi/fantasy book locations). he does wear his own merch underneath the uniform.

halsin: that customer who’s very polite but frequently and inexplicably barefoot. he also teaches woodworking and pottery at the youth center down the road. sometimes brings his regular kids to the store for a field trip and those little bags of cheetos. grows the weed that jaheira sells.

astarion: does not work at the grocery store. he worked at the grocery store for two weeks, during which he showed up late every day, insulted customers, and generally behaved like a cat ripped away from his ball of yarn. he only lasted those two weeks because gale (roommate/situationship) begged wyll to give him another chance in a different department. he still lives with gale while finishing up a law degree and can be found loitering in the grocery store, bitching about The Circumstances with shadowheart.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #karlach #wyll ravengard #shadowheart #minthara baenre #lae'zel #jaheira #gale dekarios #halsin #astarion #yell.txt

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hanasnx · 1 year

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Omg what is starlet reader was ewans daughter and Hayden used to babysit her when she was a kid

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: i rly liked this concept :) feel free to ask me about it more! i think this was a good broad start to it WARNINGS: dead dove do not eat | age gap | dark content proceed with caution | there is absolutely no predatory acts mentioned, but because the situation is inherently predatory i'm tagging it | sexual content at the end | implied smut | no y/n

! ── "Yeah, no problem. We'll stay on site at my trailer, order a pizza. How hard could it be?" HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN assures Ewan, who frowns at him in response, clearly amused. "Alright, I'm going to pretend you didn't say that." he pats Hayden on the back as he exits, and when he gestures to you, he tells you a simple "Be good." Your complexion flushes when Hayden lays eyes on you. "You ready?"

! ── "I don't need a babysitter." you tell him as he picks up a slice of pizza from the box, the strings of cheese stretching thin until they break. You have a raging, hormonal and proximity induced crush on your dad's co-star. Not to mention he's a total babe, and so kind. Desperately, you want him to see you as independent, as cooler than you are. You think he's so grown up even though he's barely older than a legal adult. "Sure you don't. We're hanging out." he replies so easily that you almost believe him, even though he's only saying it to make you feel better.

! ── You've always been so standoffish with him. You found any excuse to be around him, but you'd jade yourself out of fear he'd find out your embarrassing feels for him. Often you'd fantasize about him confessing his love to you— but had no idea how problematic that'd be if he did. Now, you're inside his trailer, alone with him, and he's coaxing you out of your shell by making you play one of his video games. It smells like a boy's room in here. "Ugh! I'm no good at this!" you cry, throwing your hands down into your lap. Frustrated over your lack of progress, you've been going around in circles in this mission for what felt like hours. It exacerbated your already heightened stress levels around him. Would he think less of you for not doing well? "Wait a second, hold on," His voice is surprisingly soothing, muffled by the pizza crust stuck in between his molars like a cigar. You don't realize it's because he's resisting the urge to leave you here when he steps outside to smoke. He promised he'd keep an eye on you, so that's what he's doing. Besides, he doesn't wanna be a bad influence on you. He reaches over, and you relinquish the controller to him, his hand grazing yours in the process. "Let's see here..." Instead of paying attention to the screen, you stare at where the point of contact was. "There, see? You had it." he tells you, handing you back the controller after he'd gotten you past your obstacle.

! ── It would be several years before you'd see Hayden again, but you didn't forget him or his extraordinary kindness. He had a way with words, a way of making you feel heard and important. That doesn't change at all— he hasn't changed at all. Besides the way he looks at you now that you're all grown up, established in the world as your own person. Ewan thinks to reintroduce you to Hayden, but he didn't forget your name. Exclaiming it even as he pulls you into a polite embrace, relaying to you he hardly recognized you, that you look great, etc. Just like that, your raging crush is back. Like it never left.

! ── It picks at you until you act on it, until you confess to Hayden you've always had a thing for him. You're both older now, which means you're not so ashamed of yourself, but can look back on it as normal childhood feelings. You're thankful your fantasies were never answered until now. "A crush? On me?" he asks in entertained disbelief, gesturing to himself. "Yes! Obviously," you insist, "You were always so nice to me. Watching out for me when my dad was working later than he thought. How could I not? C'mon," "I'm not judging you," he assures, and he shrugs, "I just... didn't know is all." It's apparent he doesn't know what to do with this information. "Does that make you uncomfortable?" "Yes and no." "Why?" He meets your eyes. There's a tentativeness to his countenance, a debate behind his gaze over whether or not he should say his next words, if they're appropriate, if they'll be received well. "Because I've got a crush on you now."

! ── Going through your normal stages of adolescence, experiencing the journey of discovering your sexuality, exploring it as an adult with your own autonomy— there was always that inkling in the back of your mind reminding you of your lingering childhood crush on Hayden Christensen. How you've never felt anything for anyone as intensely as you did for him. Those buried feelings manifest when you finally allow them to roam, sweeping you up and away. He'd invited you to his trailer to catch up, and you end up on top of him.

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im-ovulating · 1 year

Text

(A/n: Told you it'd be up soon😅😘)

Word Count: 2,007

Summary- How do you expect Lucio to deny a treat such as yourself?

Warnings: Con Noncon, Mentions of "deflowering" (social construct but🤷‍♀️), anal, a singular slap at the beginning, fingering, unprotected sex- no creampie, let me know if i missed any

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Count Lucio x Male! Reader: Corruption + Anal; Kinktober 2023

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

The palace library is filled with the steady shuffling of paper as you flip through various spell books.

Asra has been trying to teach you how to enter the Arcana Realm on your own but you just can't seem to grasp it. So here you are: sorting through book after book to try to figure it out. Sure, Asra would be more than happy to give you extra help, but you can't bring yourself to ask. Not after everything they have done for you already.

Just as you let out a sigh, about to give up for the day, the library doors slam open. You don't even have to look to know who it is. But you do, because he's the count and something about respect, yada yada yada.

You politely nod in acknowledgement even though you're trying to keep your eye from twitching in annoyance. You're already stressed between Asra's new task and the general mayhem that comes from being the count's personal magician.

Namely, the count's particular fascination with making you do measly magic tricks as though you're a court jester - it makes you regret ever accepting the Countess's offer.

"Ah! Y/n! What a wonderful surprise!" Count Lucio exclaims as he strides over to you.

As if he came to the library for any reason other than wanting to bother you.

"Count Lucio," you deadpan, continuing to flip through the pages in front of you.

He perches on the table, not bothering to move the priceless tomes and scrolls. You cringe as the papers crinkle and crunch under his weight.

"I'll never understand why you choose to bury yourself in such a dark, dusty room," he absently flips a book closed as he glances at the papers with a screwed up face. "If I didn't know any better I would think you like these books more than me~"

'Guess you don't know better, then…' you think bitterly.

"Do you require my assistance with something, your Excellency?"

His lips twist into a nasty smirk, sending a chill down your spine.

"I do, actually~"

Rubbing your temples you bookmark the tome you're looking through and set it aside. "And that would be with..?"

Over the course of your time at the palace, you've come to learn that the count has little to no regard for personal space when it comes to the people he favors, -unfortunately, you're one of the most favored of his staff- so you don't think much of it as he grabs your wrist and brings your hand toward him.

That is, until he places your hand on his lap. Specifically, his notably hard crotch.

His grip tightens when you move to yank your hand back.

"Sir-"

"Ah, ah ah~ You know what happens to people who upset me~" The Count chides.

The threat behind his words makes you freeze as images flash through your mind.

Various staff members who have been executed in various ways. From public hangings to being chased down by Mercedes and Melchior.

"There's a smart boy~" Count Lucio sing-songs. "You will do as I say, when I say it. Understand?"

Your jaw is set as you numbly nod.

"Good boy… Now, strip." He commands as releases your wrist to shrug off his jacket, leaving his torso bare.

You'd be lying if you said the count wasnt insanely attractive. Or that you hadn't thought about almost this exact situation before. But reality is different from fantasies.

A slap to the face snaps you out of your thoughts. You keep your head snapped to the side as he speaks.

"I said: strip."

With no other choice, you stand, slowly peeling layer after layer off until you're standing bare before him. Keeping your eyes to the ground, you wait for his next order as embarrassed tears prick at your eyes.

"Fuck… Look at you- better than I imagined." He breathes.

The tears slip down your cheeks as the praise causes your cock to start to twitch to life.

Horror dawns on you as you realize he said 'Imagined'... That means he's thought this… That he planned it. Oh, gods…

"C'mere."

His voice brings you back. Numbly, you move your legs until you're in front of him. He yanks you to stand between his legs.

"Open your mouth." Dropping your jaw open, your hands clench into fists at your side. Why you? Why couldn't this be happening to another staff member?

You know it's an awful thought, but you can't help it.

His fingers are heavy on your tongue as he slides them in to the knuckle. "Now suck."

The count's intense gaze never leaves you as you suck and swirl your tongue around his digits. You close your eyes in shame as your cock stands at attention between you. You know it's just a primal response, but the disgrace still fills you.

Even more so when you acknowledge the small part of you that's enjoying the attention. The part of you that whispers about all the times you imagined being bent over by him and fucked until you couldn't walk; reminds you of all the times you've feverishly tugged at yourself to the thougbt of him until you were spilling into your bath water.

After his fingers are thoroughly slicked, Count Lucio pulls his hand back and slips it behind you. You jump as you feel his wet fingers slip between your ass cheeks and trace around your hole.

"Wait!" You yelp, taking a step back. Which, with the way the pressure makes his finger breach you, does anything but help the heat in your face. "What are you doing?"

The count's head tilts to the side as he leans back against his metal arm. You try not to let the way his abs tense with the movement get to you. Try.

Raising an eyebrow he says, "Well, I was going to prepare you to take my cock, but, if you'd prefer no preparation, I'm happy either way…"

His dismissive attitude has you sputtering.

"So?" He asks, "Prepped or not prepped?"

"Well- I- Um- Wh-" You can feel the heat in your chest with how embarrassed you are. You're standing in front of Vesuvia's ruler, as naked as the day you were born, being asked how you like to be fucked. Please let a hole open up beneath you and swallow you whole…

Count Lucio rolls his eyes and huffs a sigh, "Prepped it is. Now- forearms on the table." He stands from his perch.

Hesitating, you just glance between him and the table. This is actually happening…

"Now."

His tone carries the authority of the fearless commander he's known to be and it has you shuddering as you lean over a couple scrolls.

"Good boy~"

You suck in a breath at the appraisal. Your hips jerk as he starts to push his fingers into you once more.

He pushes the first finger in until what you guess is the second joint before pulling it out and joining it with another finger. The count slowly starts to scissor you open.

"This is wrong…" you whimper out and the dirty feeling washing over you. "This is so, very wrong…" Fresh tears flow from your eyes as the count ruins you.

"Oh, baby, the only thing wrong right now, is you." You can feel his warmth as he leans over you to whisper in your ear. His fingers continue to force small whines from your lips as they pump in and out of you. "This isn't right, the body isn't meant for this…"

"Wait a minute-" Count Lucio pauses with a grin. "You don't mean the situation, do you?" Your bottom lip trembles as you shake your head.

"Please, don't do this to me," you whisper as your forehead falls to the table in defeat.

"Oh~" you can hear the growing smirk in his voice.

"Oh, I'm going to ruin you, my little magician~" he growls out.

His fingers start up with a renewed vigor and he speaks.

"Gonna ruin this tight little hole. Gonna ruin you for anyone else; you're never gonna be able to even think about anyone else after I'm done with you."

All of a sudden his fingers are gone and something much bigger is pushing at your rim. When did he undo his pants?

"Please… Lucio-"

Before you can get the rest of your plea out, you're interrupted.

"Godsdamn it-" He groans. "Drop the "Count" from now on. My name sounds so good coming from your lips, baby…"

You cry out as the count starts to push in. Not out of pain, but because you're never going to be intact again. Facing the ultimate shame has you once again cursing at the Arcana for not choosing someone else to be deflowered in this way.

You're sobbing into the tabletop by the time Lucio bottoms out. You can feel his metal fingers contrasting his flesh on your opposite hip; the sharp, gold digits digging into your skin as he starts to pull out.

You're babbling various pleas and protests as he thrusts back in. Your words fall on deaf ears as he starts to pick up the pace. Your cries mix with his pleasured curses fill the otherwise empty library.

One particularly hard thrust has you screaming out in pleasure and pain as he slams into your prostate- over and over the bundle of nerves takes the hits. Over and over you clench your eyes as you jaw goes slack. The most obscene noises leave you, noises you didn't know you could make.

"Fucking hell-" Lucio hisses as he snaps his hips against yours, "Feel so fucking good; look at you sucking me in so eagerly. And to think- hah- you were so against this."

You can't bring yourself to answer. Your cheek is smushed against the wooden table as you get shoved up and down it with every thrust. The shiny surface fogs with each pant and moan that escapes you.

You can feel yourself climbing closer and closer to the edge, your balls start to tighten as the pain of neglect becomes almost too much for your leaking cock.

"Please…" You don't know what you're begging for at this point. You've already been ruined. Why not capitalize on it?

"Please, Lucio… I- I can't-'' You're still sobbing, but it's more from frustration than anything by now. The pleasure coursing through you with each stroke too much yet not enough. Not enough to make you cum.

In your desperation, you sneak your hand beneath you, damning any shame that action makes you feel, and grip the base of your cock, stroking your hand in time with Lucio's thrusts.

"Hah- Aughhh~" Your eyes roll back at the added pleasure, your hazy mind forgetting how wrong this is.

"C'mon," Lucio growls behind you. "C'mon, baby- cum for me." His grip is searing as his movements get somehow wilder. More erratic, more rough. It makes you insane.

With a final hit to your prostate, you cum with a cry. Your vision dances with black as you feel a sudden emptiness followed by something warm hitting the back of your thighs.

"Fuck…"

You don't know who says it… It could have been both of you for all you know.

"You okay, baby?" Lucio asks, taking his jacket and pulling you up, into a hug. "I wasn't too rough?"

A small smile plays at your face as you think back to the scene that just played out.

"It was perfect…" you nuzzle into his bare chest. "Thank you for indulging me, I know it's a bit weird to get turned on by that kind of stuff…"

Lucio rests his chin on your head as he speaks, "It's not weird baby boy- out of the ordinary, maybe, but it's not weird. And if I can help you indulge in even a fraction of your fantasies, then I've done my job right."

He lifts your chin up to place a kiss on your forehead, then the tip of your nose, finally landing on your lips.

Reblogs are appreciated!🛐

#count lucio x reader #count lucio x mc #count lucio smut #kinktober 2023 #the arcana smut #the arcana count lucio #the arcana #the arcana x mc #the arcana x reader

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strawberrystepmom · 1 year

Text

THE BALLAD OF LOVE AND HATE - PART I

jedi padawan!geto suguru x princess!f reader. part of the jjk star wars au. wc 2.1k. divider thanks to @/saradika!

PT. II

The one thing they never taught you during your lessons growing up is how dull the life of a Princess can become.

You attend meetings alongside your father, all glistening teeth and foamy gowns hoping to woo the senators into standing by your side should conflict ever occur. They don’t include you in their conversations but you always sit on the fringes of where they do, eyes averted elsewhere hoping they won’t catch on. It has always suited you to remember that not all delegates from their respective planets view women in politics as kindly as your father does, demurring away from questions about your future posed by those who may find it distasteful for you to admit your ambitions to become senator someday.

So you sit. Elbow resting on the table in front of you, the smooth cool marble grounding to your wandering mind, chin in your palm. Boredom begins to creep into the edges of your mind as you swing your feet beneath the table but you turn upon hearing your name from behind.

Approaching, your father. In tow? The most handsome man you’ve ever seen draped in gray robes.

Dark hair tied back in a tidy half bun off of his face is the first thing you notice, shining like an onyx figurine that sits on your dresser, a gift from the home planet of one of your closest allies. His eyes are sharp, astute, and his nose is elegant in a way you aren’t sure you’ve seen before. Your breath sticks in your throat and you try to make sense of your surroundings, adjusting your posture and smoothing down the skirt of your dress as you stand to greet them.

You wonder if he isn’t a figment of your imagination. A young man sprung into life thanks to the romantic fantasies you’re only allowed to entertain as you listen to your handmaidens speak of their dalliances after you’ve been tucked safely into your bed and left to dream. They kiss, they hug, they feel fingers across places on their body you can only imagine being touched in.

You smile kindly but you seethe with jealousy beneath the surface upon hearing about these situations, dozing off beneath your soft covers with a scowl.

As someone would, you tend to dream of love. The kind that soothes the loneliness that comes with being perceived as unapproachable. People bow to you but never look you in the eye, a fact that makes you shrink in on yourself where you stand. Posture slumping, undoing the work you just put in to appear regal, you look less a princess and potential future senator and more the child recently turned woman that you are.

“My dear,” your father’s disapproving voice drags you from the recesses of your mind and you are dropped cruelly back into a reality where a dark haired dream stands in front of you, padawan braid cascading down his shoulder. Your heart stops at the sight. It doesn’t matter how handsome you find him, that braid means one thing and one thing only.

Off limits, you remind yourself so many times in a second it becomes a swarm inside of your head. Off limits. Off limits. Off limits.

Bowing, you put on your best smile and give the young Jedi your name. He smiles back, warmth emanating from the look and you wish you had never seen it. You wish he’d avert his gaze like everyone else does but amber eyes meet your own, locked in place.

“I’m Suguru Geto, it’s a pleasure to meet you, your highness.”

Nervously, you extend your hand in his direction and he takes it with a bow. Chivalrous as you’d expect a man of his station to be, it gives you chills when he stands back up to his full height, much taller than you are. Breath catches again but you keep the awareness of being watched by a room full of party goers prickling at your senses to keep yourself somewhat calm.

“The pleasure is mine,” you return kindly while dropping your hand back at your side when his fingers release their hold on it. The rest of the room falls away, your focus locked on him as you wonder how this could happen to you.

“I’ll let the two of you speak.”

Suddenly, your nerves flare and you struggle to find the words to even appear diplomatic in his presence.

It’s not that you haven’t been around young men before - dozens of them are your contemporaries and you socialize with them regularly - but you’ve never been around someone who has made you feel like this before. Sweat slicked palms with a dry mouth, thoughts racing and stomach turning. Before you can think about it too deeply, he offers relief by starting the conversation himself.

“Lively bunch tonight, isn’t it?”

You laugh, looking around the room to see the stoic faces of many grumpy old men all too pleased to sit around and complain while swilling the sweet wine made from berries your planet is known for. They’ll drink their fill, discuss their politics, and be gone in the morning. It has been the same all your life, since you were only knee high to your father and looking up at the faces of the delegates that now use canes to get around the grand banquet hall.

“Livelier now that you’re here.” Your remark is honest, noticing the guests casting their eyes in the direction of the two of you and muttering amongst themselves. “It’s rare we are visited by Jedi unless something bad is happening.”

He chuckles and you want to sigh at the sound. It’s velvety, deep. Rich like the cake you had on your recently celebrated birthday that welcomed you into adulthood and you wonder if it would be greedy of you to make him laugh more just to commit the sound to memory.

“Master Yaga was invited tonight and allowed me to accompany him. He said it would be good to get to know the people we work closest with.”

Smiling, you nod. You know Master Yaga very well, someone who has been your protector on more than one trip you’ve taken alongside your family or on your own outreach missions, and you cannot be happier for Suguru that he is being taught by a man you consider one of the best you’ve ever met. Kind without trying too hard, brave without seeming arrogant - he’s the perfect Master for the young man at your side and it fills your gut with butterflies to imagine him growing into a man similar to his mentor.

“He’s right. We tend to like you more if we have the chance to know you first,” you joke and he laughs again. Internally, you pat yourself on the back for entertaining him although you know it’s unbecoming and the delegates are certainly going to whisper.

The two of you have started to walk through the hall and toward the open balcony doors, taking small unhurried steps toward your destination to ensure that the conversation is not interrupted. You take a cursory glance around the crowd and spot Master Yaga standing in the opposite corner but he does not glance back, focused on the enthusiastic conversation between himself and the delegate from Coruscant.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

The young man considers your question for a moment before nodding, hands resting on either side of his belt with his thumbs hooked in the loops. He seems so casual and it makes you feel more anxious, eagerly darting your eyes around the room to look at anything but him.

“I am, the hosts have been gracious and wonderful.”

The hosts being yourself and your father, of course. Your cheeks heat at the compliment and you welcome the cool evening breeze over your warm face as the two of you finally cross the threshold between inside and out. Thinking back, you imagine all of the times prior you’ve stood on this very balcony and looked out over the city below you. You’re familiar with every corner and alley yet you feel as though you have never experienced any of it at all.

Choosing to sit rather than stand, you settle on a stone bench and he follows suit, sitting beside you. The two of you do not touch but you still feel electric, being this close to a man you just met sending your head spinning. The silence isn’t awkward but you can tell he’s beginning to feel uncomfortable, perhaps being this close and alone with a young woman, so he speaks.

“It’s very late, Princess. I’m surprised they let you party into the dawn with the rest of them.”

Laughing, you shake your head and realize that you do feel a bit tired. You’ve been at this for hours, listening and waiting and watching and perhaps it is past your usual bedtime. Despite being an adult, your schedule remains structured in case you’re needed to tend to your regular duties and you’re surprised that your attendant has not come to find you yet to usher you away.

You’re glad she hasn’t, looking to your left to admire Suguru’s profile. If she had you would have missed this, the way the stars shine behind him and the gentle dark of the night makes you feel as if everyone else has fully disappeared.

“I suppose I’m a little worn,” you mumble. Head feeling heavier than it did just a minute ago, you blink slowly to try and encourage yourself to wake up, hoping you can will a cool breeze to blow once again and revive you but it doesn’t. You just feel comfortable and safe and before you know it, your eyes start to shut and you struggle to open them back up, your neck relaxing as your head leans to your left.

As you fall asleep, your cheek resting gently on his shoulder and your lips puffed out in a sweet pout, he looks over your face, he knows in his gut that it’s trouble. The two of you shouldn’t even be this close but he has a responsibility, given orders by your father to keep you out of trouble tonight and who is he to deny a sleepy princess a comfortable place to rest her head?

Looking down, his eyes dance over your face. You look like a delicate doll, something he knows is intentional to keep you non threatening, but your spirit shines so brightly it almost makes your eyes sparkle when they’re open.

Off limits, Suguru’s thoughts echo your own and he looks away from you, lifting his face and searching the party for your guards and father to escort you home.

He feels it too, the gravitational pull, but this was not meant for the two of you and something like this is only bound to end in heartache for both of you.

Anxiously, he looks around and spots a worried looking young woman who appears to be a little younger than you approaching, rubbing her hands against the fabric of her skirt that looks identical to the one you’re wearing. You must be with her, he reasons quickly and he offers a smile in return.

“I think she had a little too much fun,” he jokes and the young woman laughs, reaching out to gently place her hand on your shoulder and shake you. Your lashes flutter open and you squint to get used to your surroundings, jumping slightly as you look up and see dark eyes staring back down at you.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head, the same smile he has cast in your direction all night across his lips.

“Nothing to apologize for but promise me you’ll let her take you to bed.”

Giggling, feeling awkward and uncertain of what else to do, you nod in agreement. Your advisor reaches her hand out and helps you up and you fight the urge to whine at the loss of the warmth of Suguru’s body against your shoulder. He remains seated, frozen in place as he watches you rise, and you cast a glance over your shoulder as you’re hurried away. Your lashes flutter as you blink, still groggy, but you smile so warmly it’s all he can look at.

“I hope we see each other again soon, Suguru.”

He bows his head, clasping his hands together in his lap.

“I hope the same, Princess.”

Off limits, he reminds himself one final time as he watches you work your way back into the throng of people standing in the banquet room. Despite his kind words he hopes he does not see you again.

If he does, he knows you’ll become the one thing a Jedi is not to have - an attachment.

#kendall writes #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk star wars au #it takes a galaxy collab

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hanzajesthanza · 1 year

Text

“what does geralt get from that friendship…”

another post examining the weight of geralt and dandelion’s friendship… because i don’t think people recognize how painful and debilitating loneliness can become.

the witcher as a deconstruction of the genre takes fantasy tropes to their most logical ends—it asks us to consider what The Lone Swordsman feels, looks into the humanity in a Cold-Blooded Killer. and it turns out he’s not cold-blooded at all.

that despite some superhuman abilities, he laments and worries and curses himself, just like any other worker of any other profession. just as the farmer is scorched by the sun, the washerwoman’s back aches, and the scholar goes half-blind studying, a witcher deals with all of the pains and annoyances and dangers of his job in a mundanely human way.

but the farmer, the washerwoman, and the scholar have something the witcher does not have—they’ll always be seen as human and part of their society. at the end of the day after enduring all of their labor, they have their wife to caress, festivities to attend, and taverns to frequent. but for a witcher? after the killing is over, what does he have? no one and nothing. not even a thank you. he is met with fear and hatred everywhere he goes, baseless bigotry and dislike.

I did my job. I quickly learned how. I’d ride up to village enclosures or town pickets and wait. If they spat, cursed and threw stones, I rode away. If someone came out to give me a commission, I’d carry it out.

so he faces not just loneliness, but being deliberately ostracized and cast out from society. geralt can’t even find a polite word in most settlements, much less a friend.

‘(…) Tell me, where should I go? And for what? At least here some people have gathered with whom I have something to talk about. People who don’t break off their conversations when I approach. People who, though they may not like me, say it to my face, and don’t throw stones from behind a fence. (…)’

this kind of loneliness is not a mere inconvenience. it’s completely altering to your self-perception and ability to see the positive in the world.

each day is not lived, but endured.

day in, and day out—forced to the most difficult and lowest labor in order to survive, and knowing that were you to die, no one would search for your body, few would miss you, hell, they might even spit “good riddance”.

in this situation, to find a friend, is not only friendship, but a rescue.

without dandelion, geralt may have drowned—drowned in solitude, amidst a sea of strangeness.

‘(…) And I’m alone, completely alone, endlessly alone among the strange and hostile elements. Solitude amid a sea of strangeness. Don’t you dream of that?’

No, I don’t, he thought. I have it every day.

because dandelion is not only a bright soul, characteristic rippling laughter and the strum of a lute, but someone who will intently listen to geralt, someone who mutually enjoys his company.

‘(…) you almost jumped out of your pants with joy to have a companion. Until then, you only had your horse for company.’

someone who doesn’t see him as strange and at the fringes of society at all, but as an utterly normal man.

and doesn’t impose demeaning, sappy sympathy onto him, but sobering and realistic “quit your bullshit” which ridicules the very thought that he should internalize societal hatred.

Do you know what your problem is, Geralt? You think you’re different. (…) [You don’t understand that] for people who think clear-headedly you’re the most normal man under the sun, and they all wish that everybody was so normal. What of it that you have quicker reflexes than most and vertical pupils in sunlight? That you can see in the dark like a cat? That you know a few spells? Big deal.

dandelion isn’t “willing” to accept geralt for himself—he already has accepted him. and to him, it’s no difficulty, it’s nothing worth discussing, because he sees no abnormality and no strangeness in him.

while others “prefer the company of lepers to witchers,” dandelion has already offered geralt to share his room and board. not out of sympathetic pity, not out of fetishizing curiosity. because… they’re friends.

and what else does this friendship save him from?

not only from others, but from himself.

worse than enduring others’ apathy and hatred is one’s own thoughts—the darkness and negativity which builds from witnessing and experiencing such behavior.

dandelion’s ability to counter and dispel geralt’s pessimism and self-flagellating tendencies—again, not out of pity, but out of friendship—is undeniably invaluable. someone to rescue you from your darkest thoughts, when you begin to spiral.

and in this darkness, all you can do is cry. you cry, beg for someone to help you, please—

Help! Why doesn't anyone help me? Alone, weak, helpless – I can't move, can't force a sound from my constricted throat. Why does no one come to help me? I'm terrified!

to be alone, the saga reminds us, is worse than a death sentence. to be alone is to “perish; stabbed, beaten or kicked to death, defiled, like a toy passed from hand to hand.” to be alone is to suffer, and to be with someone is to save them from that suffering.

'(…) I wouldn't like anything bad to happen to you. I like you too much, owe you too much-'

'You've said that already. What do you owe me, Yennefer?'

The sorceress turned her head away, did not say anything for a while.

'You travelled with him,' she said finally. 'Thanks to you he was not alone. You were a friend to him. You were with him.'

it is true that geralt has saved dandelion countless times, helped him, gotten him out of some scrape… but to ask what did geralt get in return? are you kidding me?

did you ever consider that it is dandelion who saved geralt?

by being with him. by being by his side. by being his friend.

indeed, dandelion has rescued geralt, countless times, from the yawning jaws of endless loneliness. he’s helped him, chased away the danger of geralt’s own rumination. and he’s gotten him out of scrapes, his own insecurities and bitter helplessness.

so what does dandelion give geralt? what does geralt get from their friendship?

an amusing question. what one gets from friendship is the friendship itself. and that is more than enough.

#the witcher books #gerlion #geralt of rivia #dandelion #jaskier #the parallels with ciri’s story makes me so emotional like…#ciri is just geralt but younger and alone. and thus she suffers so immensely #i included ciri’s nightmare because i think that’s how it feels to be alone #you just cry out ‘help! why won’t someone help me?’ and no one answers #and the funny bit is that everyone is like ‘ugh you cannot get RID of dandelion’ like #i think that’s the most comforting and relieving thing about him. he will never leave and abandon geralt.#there is nothing geralt *would* or *could* do to ever push him away #the kind of friendship where you never worry about being too ‘weird’ for them because they straight up dont care if youre weird #honestly idk how more people dont see them like this because i feel like loneliness is so pervasive right now #does everyone else just have this kind of best friend and for that reason take dandelion’s presence for granted #s: i want to be by your side #c: geralt #c: dandelion #excerpt #analysis #like. this is how it is:#the entire world: ‘you’re nothing you’re worthless and you’re inhuman’#dandelion is NOT like ‘omgggg of course you are something 🥺🥺 pwease don’t think badly like that’#no. he’s like ‘the hell? that’s the stupidest thing ive ever heard. why the hell are you even listening to that’#dandelion has a kind of masculine energy that the fandom does not like lmao

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libbee · 1 year

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"Bad people" and 8th house

So, there is a default fantasy that life is meant to be fair, just, polite, safe, soft and soothing. But it is rarely that. I have often observed the correlation between 8th house and turmoils, craziness, mental instability. A lot of times it is caused by human behaviour, personality, conversations and the feelings.

At first, after years of turmoil and confusion, I was so angry why people speak and act badly. Why speak sarcasm, lies, humiliation, belittle others, speak comments to break others down and harsh judgmental comments? Do they not realize that they are doing evil? How do they think that they are so righteous and flawless? How are they so fake and hypocritical? Are they self aware or not?

But later I began to realise that they are teaching very valuable lessons about ego image. That if ego and persona are believed to be everything, the person refuses to see the darkness behind the ego image that they craft in other people's mind. Conversations are crucial to get to know someone and they are important to create the image you want in other people's mind. If they are naive enough, they will believe your words and deny their own perception. But if they have any awareness of the human ways, they will observe your behaviour privately, inconsistencies in speech, the content of conversations, intensity of your feelings, tone of voice etc to judge whether you are being a fake one or not.

Therefore, 8th house is like that lifting of mask. It is that penetrating vision to see beyond the words and actions of somebody to judge their actual patterns. Conversely, doing so will make you realize that you are not a good person either, like you thought. An 8th houser may have existential dread whether they are projecting their own darkness on others, whether someone is actually bad, whether they still have a grip over reality or they are going crazy?

The bad people you meet are in fact blessing in disguise. Ruminating about them will show you how you were caught up in your own ego ideal. How you may have even been a bad person in many situations but fail to realise this. Though when you see the badness in others, you accept your own behaviour. The 8th house enlightenment only comes after intense turmoil, confusion, conflict, crisis, emergency. That intense anger and self preservation you felt around someone bad will eventually help you understand that you are too caught up in image, validation, fantasy, appearance.

Though for many natives in the world, life is actually very different. They never reach the point of self reflection even by force of nature or necessity. They may continue to say and do the unwholesome things but maintain the self image that they are in fact right and better. Remember! Truth lies in depth. To understand the 8th house, you must lose sight of the shore and go deep. Even though most of the world seems to be caught up in egoistic instincts, persona, validation seeking and language, you must realize that sooner or later these structures will collapse too.

The worst a person is, the more you learn of psyche from them. If 8th housers dont have a guidebook on psychoanalysis yet, they must keep it handy. Because the world is about to unpack and shed its masks, while you need information, knowledge, language to stay stable and sane. To know what is going on around you. Psychological education and information is the support system you need. Do not go into the 8th house with bare hands thinking you can fight the monsters naturally. You need knowledge and preparation to face those monsters and win without fighting.

#astrology #astro community #astro observations #astrology observations #astroblr #astro notes #astro tumblr #astrology blog #astrology notes #8th house

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duckprintspress · 3 months

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My June Reads

Storygraph introduced auto-generated graphics for sharing our reads by the month, which makes it much easier to do a review, and here I am! Sorry it's kinda pixelly, the settings on Storygraph aren't perfect yet but they're planning to add functionality.

I've been posting on the Duck Prints Press Book Lover's Server for a while, so everyone knows there that the answer to "how do you read so much?" is the library, but just to be clear, if it's a graphic novel, I got it from one of three libraries - either my local system, @queerliblib, or the Japan Foundation Library. The last two are both free-throughout-the-US Libby libraries and they've both been awesome.

Prose books, I usually own.

Anyway. Onward! My June reads:

How to Love: A Guide to Feelings and Relationships for Everyone by Alex Norris (graphic novel, short self-help stories about how to be in relationships, how to be alone, etc., all very inclusive.

Blue Flag Vol. 1 - 2 by Kaito (manga series about modern high school and a young man and his best friend - who has a crush on him - and a young woman and her best friend - who has a crush on her. poly vibes.)

The Tea Dragon Festival and The Tea Dragon Tapestry by K. O'Neill (graphic novels, very fluffy fantasy slice-of-life with various queer rep)

Squad by Maggie Toluda-Hall and Lisa Sterle (graphic novel, modern with magic, wlw high school student discovers that fitting in with the cool kids means becoming a murderous werewolf)

Clementine vol. 1 and 2 by Tille Walden (graphic novel, post-apocalyptic set in the same 'verse as The Walking Dead about a wlw amputee surviving against the zombies.

A Thousand Hopes, A Thousand Risks by Kelas Lloyd (short story, fantasy, pre-mlm between a young merchant and a god)

Ride On, Shooting Star by J. D. Harlock (short story, science fiction, a space courier wants to retire)

Deadendia vol. 1 by Hamish Steele (graphic novel, modern with magic/horror elements, about a trans male teenager who runs away from home and moves into a haunted house at an amusement park)

Giant Days vol. 2 by John Allison and Whitney Cogar (graphic novel, modern college setting, about the somewhat silly lives of the main characters)

Yona of the Dawn vol. 1 by Mizuho Kusanagi (manga, fantasy, about a young princess whose kingdom gets taken over by someone she thought a friend)

In the Dark vol. 3 by Jin Shisi Chai (danmei novel, mlm, last of three volumes - I read the other two in May - about an undercover drug cop who returns home after six years undercover)

The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation manhua vol. 6 by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu (manhua version of the MDZS novel, mlm, historical cultivation about a fraught political situation)

The Fox Maidens by Robin Ha (graphic novel playing on story of the fox maiden Gumiho in Korean mythology, with a side of wlw)

My Hero Academia vol. 9 - 12 by Kohei Horikoshi (manga series about teenagers at a high school for superheroes)

Frontera by Julio Anta and Jacoby Salcedo (graphic novel about a young man crossing the border between the US and Mexico illegally, and about the mlm ghost who helps him)

My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness by Nagata Kabi (autobiographical manga about a young lesbian in Japan trying to figure out her identity and find companionship)

Solo Leveling vol. 1 - 2 by Chugong (a manwha series set in modern fantasy Korea, about a young man is terrible at "hunting"...until he isn't)

Haikyu!! vol. 5 - 6 by Haruichi Furudate (manga series about young men who play high school volleyball)

Little Birds by Anaïs Nin (a collection of short erotic stories with lots of trigger warnings applicable and a few dashes of wlw, originally written in the 1930s and 1940s)

To Strip the Flesh by Oto Toda (manga collection of short stories, with the longest/most involved being about a young man's journey coming out as a trans man)

Shubeik Lubeik by Deena Mohamed (graphic novel exploring three stories of Egyptians getting first-grade wishes in a modern-with-magic world, includes NB rep)

Limerence by Jiang Zi Bei (danmei novel, mlm, about a young college student who breaks up with his boyfriend and ends up falling for his ex's roommate.)

Our Colors by Gengoroh Tagame (manga about a young Japanese gay man coming our of the closet and making friends/finding a mentor in an older gay man)

Silent Hearts vol. 1 by Jing Shui Bian (danmei novel, mlm, modern high school setting, lots of disability rep though not for either member of the main couple)

Rainbow! vol. 1 by Sunny (modern, maybe with magic, about a young woman with a tough life and the people around her; wlw implied in the future?)

Out of Left Field by Jonah Newman (real-life-inspired graphic novel about a young gay man navigating high school)

Escape From St. Hell: My Trans Life Levels Up by Lewis Hancox (autobiographical graphic novel about a young trans man with severe anxiety)

This was the most pages I've read in a month all year, and the second most individual books. There's actually one more book not pictured, as it wasn't on Storygraph and I opted not to add it.

Happy reading, y'all.

#duck prints press #unforth's june reads #june reads

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magpie-trove · 17 days

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August Reads

Cress & Winter • Marissa Meyer | it was Trying Times and for some reason Lunar Chronicles is one of my go to escapes and comforts turns out. I really wanted to reread Cress but got sucked in and had to do Winter too. Still as good as the first time. Deeply near and dear to my heart.

The Talented Mrs Mandelbaum • Margalit Fox | new non fiction about a Victorian crime boss lady and her band of thieves and fencers. Short and to the point. Interesting. Wouldn’t say it was one of my favorites of the year but it was worth reading.

Your Vote Matters • Rebecca Katzman | childrens non fiction about the electoral process. Made sense and had a real nice layout and pictures!!!!. (Not a picture book it was like 80 pages or something? But yeah I like it!)

Howl’s Moving Castle • Diana Wynne Jones | was just rereading all my faves for a bit there. Still a 12/10 book.

Yours from the Tower • Sally Nicholls | new YA epistolary fiction set in the 1890’s. Surprised me! Actually had a little nuance! Was very good about the characters. Important to me cause it made me understand how people work in certain situations better than I had before. I think I cried sad and I know I happy cried a little towards the end. I do recommend.

Sonnets from the Portuguese • Elizabeth Barrett Browning | still a favorite

Voices in the Air • Naomi Shihab Nye | the Emily poem!!!!! I think I loved Everything Comes Next more, a lot of these poems got more specifically political and idk it takes away their power a bit to me? But it still had plenty of bangers

Wheels of Change • Sue Macy | YA non fiction about the role of the bicycle in the suffragette movement. Interesting topic, real nice layout, lots of good primary sources. It had a reprint of a lot of pretty funny things women were advised not to do while riding, including “do not say Feel my muscle” and “do not ask Do you like my bloomers?”

The Castle of Llyr • Lloyd Alexander | follow up to The Black Cauldron. Beloved. He writes at such a good level and manages to keep the Nobility to the story.

Kilmeny of the Orchard • LM Montgomery | I actually didn’t like this one that much? Kinda hinged on some racist stereotypes and was mean about adoptees and the romance felt kind of condescending. Idk I wasn’t really impressed.

Saintly Women of Modern Times • Joan Carroll Cruz | Learned so many cool stories!!! I did also discover though at times you need examples as encouragement and at times examples might get a little discouraging. The women highlighted were all unique and interesting though!

Mapmakers and the Lost Magic • Amanda Castillo and Cameron Chittock | children’s graphic. Nice art interesting premise and world building. I’d probably read the next one.

Uniformity with God’s Will • Alphonsus Linguori | very good

A Wish in the Dark • Christina Soontornvat | HELLO!!! Childrens fiction with the premise Les Miserables but in Thailand. LOVED IT. SHOOK. I CRIED. BEAUTIFUL. I loooved the characters looooved the words, it was sooooo goooood!!!!!!!!! Made me want to do something nothing else has ever succeeded in (read Les Miserable). Do recommend!

The Lucky Poor • Mazie Lovie | adult graphic memoir about getting a house through Habitat for Humanity and unexpected drawbacks or something? Nothing really struck me about it tbh

Sisters of the Lost Marsh • Lucy Strange | the VIIIIIIBES VIIIIBES FOR DAAYYYYS. Middle Grade fantasy based on English folklore and circus, about six sisters who’s father says they’re under a curse. Beautifully done. This one will haunt me. Do recommend.

Romanov • Nadine Brandes | YA historical fantasy. had its moments but I kinda wanted the fantasy out of it at times though it wasn’t as jarring as some other stuff in that regard. It was a nice walk in the park and then the most nightmarish thing I’d read then just kind of ok. Not bad at all but not my most favorite. I just wanted to read about Anastasia tbh. I think (?) it had a pretty good illustration of forgiveness at one point though that made it make sense to me in a new way.

#August sure was a MONTH

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behoright · 2 years

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let us feel (love countdown series) l a. svechnikov

touching your face / how'd it take a long, long time to be here

summary: part 9! our couple spends their first night together as bf n gf!

wordcount: 4.3k

song: jupiter - donna missal

warnings: 18+! minors dni! contains smut n sexual situations!

a/n: much awaited! thank u for your patience! this is garbage but I'm doing my best! enjoy! love u! @ryanpulock aids w these fantasies so much sorry not sorry. @thejoeburrow @hoesforthecanes you guys have a special place in my heart.

✳︎ ₊˚ 𓂂 🛶 𓈒𝆬 ₊ ⟆

Andrei had officially turned into mush.

Or, at least, that’s what he felt like.

He had stopped you both around 15 times on the way back to the restaurant just to kiss you more. He felt that he had to pinch himself every couple of steps. Having his arm around you just wasn’t enough; he wanted to feel your mouth on his again and again. So every couple steps, you were met with a goofy grin, slowly making its way towards your lips again.

“I can finally do this, oh my god.”

He didn’t really have a plan on what to do when they got back with the group, but he didn’t care. He was too elated and giddy to bother entertaining anyone’s chirps or comments.

Truly, all he really wanted was to be with you. Regardless of who or what was around you both. As long as he had the freedom to kiss you whenever he wanted, now that you were his.

You were able to sneak back into the restaurant mostly unseen, Andrei’s hand flat on your exposed lower back, guiding you to your seat.

“Oh, there you are. Where did you guys go?” Jordan questioned as you adjusted yourself to into your seat.

“Uh, just needed some air. All good.” he said, sitting down. Thankfully, the dark lighting covered up how flustered you both were.

Neci kicked Andrei under the table as soon as you got distracted by a very curious Jarvy, who had some very poignant questions for you.

Andrei looked up at his friend, who gave him a subtle questioning look. The Russian couldn’t help but blush; he couldn’t even face his friend as a quiet chuckle escaped him, looking down at his lap.

“Oh, man, really?” Martin whispered, dramatically leaning forward.

“Yeah, brother.” he said, a smirk plastered on his face.

“Let’s fucking go.” Neci bounced in his seat, extending his hand over to his friend to congratulate him.

“What happened?” you asked, all the disarray calling your attention to them.

“Uh, what?” Andrei scrambled. As much as he tried, he knew he couldn’t get rid of the smile. “Nothing, nothing, baby. I tell you later.”

The two teammates were surprised at how quickly you were satisfied with that answer as you turned back to Jarvy.

“Baby?” Martin mouthed at Andrei, before making kissy noises toward him.

“Shut up!” he hissed, embarrassed.

Before the two could cause any more ruckus, the ringing of Rod’s knife against his wine glass quieted the whole team.

“Okay, everyone. So what I want to do, is each player can introduce who they brought, and why they’re so special. Who wants to start?”

Andrei’s heart flipped in his chest. This whole trip everyone had chirped him, mortified him in front of you. He didn’t know if you actually didn’t care or if you were just being polite by shrugging all the comments off. Now that he had you, he couldn’t let this happen again. He had to take control of it, he thought. Andrei hyped himself up so much so that his body seemed to move on its own. He wasted no time in grabbing your hand as he stood up so drastically that he had to turn around and grab the chair to prevent it from falling backward. “Uh, okay, it seems like Svech wants to go first. Take it away, Andrei.”

Seeing you wrap your arm around his waist so naturally made his heart beat even faster, so much that he thought he was going to explode, causing his introduction to come out a little too hurried.

“Uh, this is my girlfriend Y/N and she’s my best friend and she’s amazing and I love her so much!”

Andrei had crossed the line of a normal tone for a restaurant, basically shouting. He was lucky his voice didn’t crack as he formally presented you to everyone. The cheers that came subsequently became muffled in his ears as he swiftly turned around and brought his face, now burning hot, close to yours. It was almost comical the way his hands grabbed your face so intently, surprising you with the most grandiose kiss. He only let go to raise his fist in the air, leading his teammates to whistle and cheer even louder.

He had never been so embarrassed in his life. The butterflies had taken over his whole system, throwing logic and any type of inhibitions out of the window. You looked up at him, your eyes gleaming back into his. He ran his thumbs over your rosy cheeks before hiding your face in his chest. You felt everyone’s eyes still on you as he helped you back down to your seats, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“Okay, okay, thank you. Thank you, Andrei, for that wonderful introduction. Who’s next?” Rod shouted from his seat, shaking his head.

Andrei didn’t hear anyone else’s speech, too close to you to even attempt to care. It happened, and he felt like his big secret was out.

The nervousness immediately turned into excitement.

You liked him.

You actually liked him back.

He could kiss you, touch you, and not worry about anything else.

As most people around you were focused on the various introductions, Andrei didn’t waste one second, his eyes burning into you constantly. Whenever you’d turn to look at him, it would take him less than a second to bring his lips to yours.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so fucking long.” he whispered, his fingers intertwined in your hair.

Your lipstick now a thing of the past, he was becoming addicted to the softness of your lips on his. He craved to be closer, to have his touch on you more. He didn’t hesitate to slip his tongue inside your mouth, even while surrounded by everyone.

Thankfully for his teammates, there was an ice cream shop not too far away.

They all opted for that instead of dessert - at this point, they all hoped to see Andrei’s lips focus on something that wasn’t you.

“I’m sorry” he chuckled while waiting for his cone. “I don’t know, I just, I can’t stop.”

“Don’t apologize. This is all I want, Drei.” you whispered against his lips.

The graze of your mouth against his and the tone of your voice caused a stir in Andrei’s pants.

Immediately.

It didn’t help that you went back to kissing him, your tongue finding his once again.

“You taste like strawberries.” he chuckled, feeling flustered.

He facepalmed in his head.

You taste like strawberries?

Idiot.

“Yeah? What flavor did you get, my love?” you said, still focused on his lips.

The more pet names you called him, the more you ran your fingers through his hair, the harder it became to hide how hard he was becoming for you.

The only thing that saved him from making a fool of himself again, or to be honest, from sliding his thighs in between your legs, was Tripp yelling at him.

“Svech! Your cone, brother!”

He realized then how little he had actually interacted with anyone else that night. He didn’t want to be rude, but there was something about having you there with him as his girl that kept him attached to you. He found himself struggling to grab his cone just because he didn’t want to let go of your waist.

“Maybe we should go talk to some people, Svech.” you said. Like clockwork. It’s like you knew what he needed, what he was thinking about at all times.

“Yeah, I was thinking that.” he chuckled, placing another series of pecks on your lips. “I can’t kiss you that much with ice cream.”

His laugh came out a little too loud, his friends close by turning slightly, yanked from their conversations.

“What can you do, eh?” Tripp exclaimed to Rod. “Young love.”

“Hey, lovebirds. Come sit here, come. Come socialize.” Burns waived over from his seat, his brother pulling up some chairs.

“We got caught, Drei.” you said, walking over to his friends with Andrei’s arm never leaving your shoulder.

Not for that second, or for the rest of the night.

It wasn’t until you were in the hotel room that he moved his touch to your waist, keeping you steady as he kept you on his mouth.

He didn’t know the time, or how long you stood there. It was hard to let you go.

You basically had to peel each other off to get ready for bed, the craziness of the day starting to grow on you more.

“So, did you have a good night?” you asked, coming out of the bathroom in your pajamas.

Andrei was laying in bed already, splayed out with just a pair of sweatpants on. He couldn’t be happier that he could do this now; somehow, he felt even more comfortable now.

“You are kidding, right?” he laughed. “Come. I want to finally cuddle you.”

You bounced over to the bed, finding his embrace once more.

You laid there, dumbfounded, sharing kisses and laughs and stories for god knows how long.

It felt like you were making up lost time.

All those times you had both held back, in fear of losing your friendships.

It was all culminating now.

He slowly rubbed your back, and yes, his hand was reaching lower and lower every time But it was still the first night, he thought, so eventually, it settled on your low (low) back.

Now that he thought about it, all of Andrei’s past relationships had always begun with sex, except for that one girlfriend he had for 3 months in high school. The rest, he had fucked on the first night, every single time. Eventually, they all ended poorly. He knew you were going to be different, obviously, but he wasn’t going to push his luck either. He wanted you, badly, but he decided to wait until you were more comfortable.

“Movie time?”

✳︎ ₊˚ 𓂂 🛶 𓈒𝆬 ₊ ⟆✳︎ ₊˚ 𓂂 🛶 𓈒𝆬 ₊ ⟆

Andrei watched the numbers change on the luminescent alarm that sat on the table. It had been long since the movie had ended, another random one now playing on the tv; long since you had drifted off in his arms, now sound asleep by his side.

It was funny, he thought, that he had gotten used to staying up late, his mind clouded by all the what-ifs that surrounded your then friendship. And now that he had you, finally resting peacefully in his embrace, he lay there in disbelief.

It was all he had wanted, for a while.

The missing puzzle piece.

He had naively thought that when he finally confronted you with the truth, he’d feel better. But now he found himself wide awake, his body filled up with butterflies that he couldn’t settle down. The touch of your hair tickling his bicep, your smell, your touch. How easily you seemed to relax around him; all these little moments and things he kept running through in his head didn’t help him settle down one bit.

He didn’t care.

He had a game to get back to the next day, and he was sure that he could have sustained himself just on this euphoric feeling.

So he stayed up, just for a little longer, reminiscing on all the times you had spent together. And tonight.

The most special night.

He would only come back to earth to peer over, toss and turn to take another peek at you, adjust your hair so it wouldn’t tickle your nose, or position your cheek more on his shoulder so you were cozier, snug against him.

“Drei?”

Your quiet muttering yanked him out of his daydreams.

“Shh, all okay, baby. Go to sleep.”

Perhaps he had moved a little too much.

He watched you scooch closer, resting more of you on his bare torso.

“You awake?” you said, abruptly sitting up.

“It’s all okay, baby. You need sleep.” he said, his hand finding the back of your head.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, your eyelids struggling to open.

Unfortunately, no answer followed, apart from a soft caress through your hair.

“Andrei.”

“I don’t want to bother you, baby. Rest now.”

“Andrei. What is it?”

“Oh, I, I just can’t sleep.”

“No?”

“I’m just.” he said, staring off into space. “I’m so happy, Y/N. This is what I was missing.”

You smiled as he tucked your hair behind your ear. Now that your eyes were open, you noticed the way he looked surrounded by soft pillows and sheets was driving you insane.

“I never thought this would happen.” you said, leaning over to peck him.

“Oh, you say that? I didn’t even know you liked me!” he laughed. “You are very good at hiding it.”

“I didn’t think you would like me. Not like that.”

“Why you say that, baby?”

“I don’t know! It’s just…me, I guess.”

“That’s why I like you, Y/N. I don’t have to fake anything when I’m with you. I can just be…”

“Me.” you both said, in unison, before bursting out in a chuckle in each others’ arms before kissing, for the millionth time tonight.

“This actually has been happening a lot lately, you know?” he said, raising an eyebrow at you. “I go sleep so late. Because of you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Well, what do you usually do to fall asleep then?” you blushed.

“Nothing.” he shrugged.

“Nothing? At all?”

Andrei threw his head back into the pillows with a loud laugh. He looked down at you, his cheeks showing a thin veil of redness.

“Agh, baby.” he muttered, his grip tightening around your shoulders. “I would, uh, usually jerk off.”

He had become so beet red that Andrei couldn’t dare to look at you.

“Baby, why are you so embarrassed about it?”

His eyes rolled, sporting a huge smile.

Baby.

He thought he’d never get used to it.

“I don’t know! I, don’t, uh, want to make you feel uncomfortable. Maybe it’s too early to talk about this, I don’t know.”

“What? No, no, I’m not uncomfortable. You don’t think I masturbate too?” you said, quietly.

“Oh, baby. Don’t say that to me right now.” Andrei almost moaned at the thought.

“Why not?”

“God, baby. If you make me think about that I-,I-. I don’t think I can take it.” he said.

Andrei noticed the energy in the room change, your eyes now burning into him differently.

He knew it was too late. All of a sudden, he realized how close your bodies actually were.

He couldn’t hide it. His desire poking through his sweatpants and inevitably the sheets.

Silence fell in the room, now filled only with the murmuring of the AC.

“Do you need a hand, babe?” you asked, tentatively.

“Uh, oh, I mean, baby, if, if you want.” Andrei could only mutter.

The lust and embarrassment caused his chest to flush as usual, only this time it felt ten times as sheepish than usual. He began pulling the sheet up higher to hide it, but he was quickly stopped by your hand.

“You don’t want to? We don’t have to, babe.”

“No, no, I really, really want to.” he reassured.

“You don’t have to be nervous, you know? It’s just me.”

Andrei nodded. He was so flustered he literally wanted to hide under the covers like a kid.

Yeah, it was just you.

The only girl that had ever made him feel like this.

You had no clue just how many nights he tossed and turned, wondering if you felt lonely in your bed too. On how many outings with you he had to tuck his erection away when he was around you.

How many times he sat in his bed at night, mindlessly scrolling through porn videos, incognito and frustrated when nothing kept him hard; striving to think about another girl or any crazy night he had before.

But the only thing that brought him to the edge was you. Just you.

Your warm hands reached over to the sheet, uncovering him again.

You gently grazed his chest, almost ias f he was too precious to fully touch.

As soon as you came in contact with him, he noticed your breathing change, causing his cock to jolt against his sweats. You took your time moving each finger, with feather pressure, on his abdomen, one by one. Each one of your digits, slowly trickled down from his pecs, all the way down, touching each one of his abs. Your pinky shook as it was the last one to stay on his bare skin, your index now at the elastic bands of his pants. You turned to face him one more time, waiting for approval. Andrei’s gaze was fixated on your hands, almost hypnotized, his chest heaving strongly already. He gulped as you sat up on your knees, tilting your head at him.

There it was again.

Those big, sparkling eyes.

Only this time, your hands were waiting to take his clothes off.

Finally.

Andrei nodded slowly, in a feeble attempt to keep himself from exploding already.

“Oh, Andrei.”

Andrei’s cock sprung out as soon as his sweatpants were past his hips. You tried your best not to stare, but it felt near impossible. His length exceeded way past his belly button, sitting swollen on top of his torso.

Oh.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, doing your best at taking it all in. His head, now leaking on top of him as he slowly moved his hips up, his gaze never leaving yours.

“You do this to me. A lot.” he said, his breathing deepening as you took your finger to the underside of his cock.

You gave him a shy look, almost asking for consent, before Andrei nodded again.

You found the slit at the tip of his dick, gently rubbing and gathering precum and spreading it over him, feeling the veins that covered his cock.

“Baby, you’re driving me crazy.”

You bent over, taking your mouth to his length, which was now firmly in your grasp. Just as quickly as the wetness of your tongue enclosed the tip of his dick, Andrei quickly sat up, almost bolting. This didn’t stop you from applying more pressure with your lips as you slid down, the burst of salt from the precum that was covering him hitting the back of your throat almost immediately. Unfortunately, after maybe two or three bobs of your head, Andrei’s hand nudged at your shoulder.

“Mmm, baby, I-”

“Did I do something wrong?” you asked, staring at the man sitting in front of you, who couldn’t even look at you, with his bottom lip tightly under his teeth. Was that a bead of sweat on his forehead?

“No, no, no.” he said, hurriedly. “I, fuck, I won’t last.”

He reached towards your hand, wrapping his thick fingers around yours. He was so big that his hand ended up completely enveloping yours as he moved you up and down his cock.

“Like that. Fuck, yes.”

You kept the motion going when he let go to balance himself again, your grip slowly getting tighter.

Andrei’s eyes trailed over you. Your red lips, agape, staring, mesmerized by how his cock was reacting to your touch. He noticed your chest respiring harder now, accompanied by a delicious thigh squeeze every now and then.

“Can, can I touch you?”

“Please, Drei.”

His rough fingers felt like heaven as they started to rub over your pussy, still unfortunately covered by your shorts. It didn’t take long for his impatience, which was only being invigorated by your strokes, to take over.

Andrei’s calloused fingertips slid past your shorts and panties, coming in touch with your damp folds.

“God, you are so fucking wet. It’s so hot, baby.”

“I’ve dreamed about this so long, Andrei.” you moaned, his digits rubbing you up and down.

“It-, it turned you on to do this?”

“Yeah, Drei. You turn me on, baby. You did this to me.”

He buckled his hips into your palm, letting a moan escape him. The last thing he wanted to do was to scare you off, or freak you out, but it was becoming hard to keep his pleasure under wraps when you were rubbing the head of his cock like that.

“I can’t believe this is happening.” he said.

You lunged towards him as his index dipped inside you gently, slipping your tongue past him and muffling your moans into his mouth.

“You’re being a tease.” you chuckled against his mouth.

“Yeah?” he said, with a smirk. “Like that?”

He began to swirl his finger around your entrance, feeling the texture of your folds but never going inside you, making you shudder.

“Andrei.”

“Moan my name again, baby. Sound so amazing.”

“Andrei.” you moaned, dipping his fingertip just slightly, right at the edge.

“Again.”

“Drei.”

You slowed your actions, letting your thumb do most of the work on the underside of his cock while your fingers trailed around his head. Delightfully, this pulled another moan from Andrei, his abs contracting.

“I can play this game too, you know?” you whispered, lips still in contact with his.

“Oh, fuck.” he said, his pelvis twitching. “It feels s-, so good like that.”

Andrei's eyelids were squeezed shut, completely overwhelmed with the sensations in the room. Your panting and whimpering at his lips, the slow and torturing movements on his cock, swirling your hand in circles slowly; your juices dampening his fingers had his eyes completely shut in concentration.

He had to give in. He brought his other finger that was on your clit down and gently inserted them, finally getting to feel the warmth of your pussy wrapped around him.

“Oh my god, Drei.”

“Yes, my love. Like that, yeah?”

You nodded, your head lolling forward until your foreheads touched.

“Keep going, yeah.” he coaxed.

Regardless of the AC, the room was getting damper and warmer with every single, painfully slow stroke you both applied to each other.

“A little faster, baby? You want?” he asked.

You both picked up the pace, your slick hand gripping his shaft tight as it went all the way down; at the same time, his thick fingers curled inside you and bega hitting your G-spot faster.

Moaning in each other’s mouths, Andrei tried to scooch closer to you, as if you weren’t face to face already. He dared to move his free hand to your chest, feeling the tender flesh of your clothed breast in his hands.

“Oh, fuck. I’ve, shit, dreamed about this so many times, baby.” he groaned, unable to keep quiet as you encouraged each others’ pace to quicken.

The faster both your hands moved, the closer Andrei would get, only moving his hand to push you closer to him, right before fondling your tits again. The relentless eye contact, unbroken this whole time, grew the desire building in Andrei’s chest, as well as his hips. Apart from your touch, your tongue dipping in his mouth in between moans, messily swapping spit, it was the idea of the whole situation that had his hips gravitating up to meet your thrusts. You were both wriggling uncontrollably, the sound of the sheets and the wetness of your contact harmonizing with the moans you were both failing at holding back.

Andrei felt himself become more desperate as you moaned louder, more needy for him. He managed to finger you steadily, releasing more and more of you with every single touch, but at the same time apply toe-curling pleasure when he sped up. You could tell he was trying to control himself to a certain extent, giving himself away when he would groan or moan a little too loud after a kiss, or turn his grip on your breast into an accidental squeeze.

“Let go, babe.” you moaned right after he let your bottom lip go after another, countless heated kisses. The wet noises and rustling were loud enough to fill the room by now.

“Please don’t stop, please, please.” he almost begged, his voice now down a register.

“Right there, baby, please, Andrei.”

“Please cum with me. Can you do that?”

Your breaths hitched at the same time, right as you both crashed onto each other, bodies sweaty and crumbling in the extasis of your orgasm; Andrei’s load landing on his glistening chest and sheets just as you clenched and twitched around his fingers. You exchanged exhales and moans, Andrei’s groans reverbing on your trembling lips. Just like you came together, you came down together, in a feverish kiss.

Andrei pulled back from you, letting his eyes stay shut before snapping them open to find yours sparkling into him.

“Holy shit, baby.”

You kept your hands on each other for longer, as you breathed deeply right in front of each other, trying to decelerate your pace.

You gave him one more kiss before hiding your face in his neck.

“You’re beautiful. You don’t ever need to hide.” he said, his lips caressing your earlobe.

“That was…” you muttered, placing kisses on his neck.

“...amazing, baby.” he finished. “Should we go clean up?”

Before you could say anything, he picked you up, taking you to the bathroom.

He had just cum, and still seeing you undress in front of him had him jolting immediately. As the shower warmed up, he towered over you, just as naked as you were, his tongue finding the newfound familiarity of your mouth again. He let his hands caress you all over, finally feel the warmth of your skin under his touch.

You felt and held each other in the most nonsexual way possible, despite all the lust that you held inside.

All good things in due time.

It wasn’t until he laid down in bed, with you at his side again, that Andrei felt a nonfamiliar feeling fill up his chest. He was now sleepy, yes, but it wasn’t that.

Something had shifted within him. A fire, burning hard inside his belly.

But not like usual.

A fire that he would soon come to realize had started to burn harder, hotter, and much longer than he had ever experienced before.

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