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drangeax · 1 year

Text

Mellow Wine

Pairing: Vanitas/Aqua

Rating: E for Enticing

Word Count: 5,514

Summary:

“I won’t mention any of this to anybody. I never found this place… and I never saw you.”

“Ah, see, you say that, but I’ve had people try that with me before, and then my boys end up behind bars. Can’t have that happen again. I need to make sure you’ll keep your trap shut.”

Read on AO3

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Aqua had no idea where she was.

Her head throbbed; all she heard was the steady drumbeat of her pulse in her ears. She let out a small, frustrated huff; this wasn’t what she had anticipated when her boss told her that morning to “scout the area for evidence.”

As she waited for her vision to stop blurring around the edges, she scanned the room. There were shelving units filled with old books, papers and receipts. The air was musty and similar to that of an old basement. That feeling continued as her eyes fell to a solid oakwood desk in the middle of the room. There was a dark brown leather chair behind it, its back turned towards her. Squinting, she noticed a thin, dissipating layer of grey smoke swirling up from behind the chair.

“You should have known better than to have come snooping around here.”

The voice behind the chair was gruff, with a New York brogue. It sent a chill down her spine.

That morning, her boss had told her to be careful. She’d been tasked with gathering information about “The Unversed,” the most dangerous gang on the East Side of Radiant Garden. Every paper in town knew of the boss and his various henchmen - all given code names like “Bruiser,” “Scrapper,” “Mandrake,” and “Flood.” Rumours of his involvement in the alcohol trade had been flying across the major papers, which meant that if she wanted to keep her job, she’d have to confirm if the rumours were true before any of the other ones could.

However, what she hadn’t anticipated was that they would have the means to take care of those who spied.

The dark brown chair turned, revealing a male wearing a pair of pinstripe grey pants, a white button up with sleeves rolled up to the forearms, solid black suspenders with a matching tie, and a fedora with a solid maroon band.

It’s him, she thought, feeling her blood run cold. It’s the boss - “Vanitas.”

He leaned forward, tapping his cigar in the crystal ashtray perched on his desk. “I should just kill you,” he said, “duct tape those pretty lips shut so everyone in town would know to keep their mouths shut.” His golden eyes bore into her own deep blue hue. “Use you as a warning.”

Aqua swallowed. Stay calm, she thought as she tried not to quake with fear. “I can keep quiet,” she stammered, “you won’t hear a peep from me if you let me go. You have my word.”

“Your word isn’t enough.” His eyes continued to stare into hers as he brought his cigar back to his lips. “I’d need something in writing, especially with your type.”

She pulled at her restraints. It was no use; her wrists were fastened with a knot to the chair behind her. It felt strong, like the type used to tie a ship to port. “If you let me go,” she attempted to barter, “I won’t mention any of this to anybody. I never found this place… and I never saw you.”

Vanitas let out a small chuckle as he exhaled his smoke into the stale air. “Ah, see, you say that, but I’ve had people try that with me before, and then my boys end up behind bars. Can’t have that happen again.” He stood from his desk, the heels of his dark leather shoes clicking against the flooring underneath. “I need to make sure you’ll keep your trap shut.”

Her eyes stared into his as he approached. They dropped as she watched him reach into his pocket. Her brow quirked upwards in confusion as he pulled out a solid black pen and twirled it in his grip. Flashes of gold hit her vision; he stopped twirling it to reveal a V in thick cursive engraved into the pen.

"Let’s see how you can put that mouth to better use than simply for gossip.” He cocked his head upwards. “Open your mouth. Don't you dare scrape my pen with your teeth - this was a gift from the gang."

Aqua tensed in the seat as he turned the back of his pen towards her face.

He wants me to put his pen in my mouth? What the hell…?

Pressing her lips together, she turned away from him, denying his pen access. He pursed his own lips in thought for a moment before shrugging.

“Fine by me. You can stay here, at the mercy of whatever I have in store for you… or you can sign my little contract with those pretty lips of yours, and I let you go." His golden eyes stared at her form; she could feel his gaze on her, even with her head turned. “But you leave with no information about me, my gang, or what we’re up to.” He turned around, placing his pen on the desk - a physical reminder of what she could agree to in order to be let go. “The choice is yours, sugar.”

She turned her head and stared at the pen. On one hand, it would be easy to agree to signing whatever his “contract” was. “Fine, just give me the damn pen,” was all she had to say, and she would be let go. Free to go back to her job, her home, her normal life.

But work relied on her for this scoop. It was a chance for them to finally be ahead of the curve, and Aqua simply couldn’t pass up that opportunity. Especially because she wasn’t sure what would happen if she didn’t get the information…

She broke the silence with a long breath. “Okay… I’ll play your game.” He leaned back against his desk as she spoke. “What do you want from me?”

Vanitas once again brought his cigar up to his lips. “Tell me what fuckin’ paper you’re from. The boys and I get plastered all over it, and suddenly one of my men goes missing.” He jabbed the smouldering tip towards her. “Find out the next day he’s in jail because of you snivelling, snooping little bitches .” He took a quick drag before letting the smoke billow out of his nose out like a dragon. “There’s three of your papers around. If it was up to me, all of them would be up in flames within an hour.”

Rage flared within her at his words. She took pride in her career, even if it meant getting into situations like this. “Why should I tell you?” She snapped. “You probably know which one I’m from. You probably know all of the girls from the other papers, too. You probably don’t keep track of them, though; probably think you’re too ‘good’ to remember. I’d be surprised if you knew any of them by name. I’d be surprised if you even knew my name.”

Shifting the cigar to his other hand, Vanitas calmly reached into his second pocket. He pulled out a small wallet, waving it in the air.

Her eyes widened. Shit, that’s-

“Your name is Aqua,” he started, “you bank at Radiant Banks. You’ve got a picture of some guy in the left side of your wallet.” He smirked. “He’s actually kinda cute, even if he looks like a Square. You should hook me up with him sometime.” He tossed her wallet onto his desk, uncaring as it hit the top with a dull thud. “You’re carrying exactly $39.47 on you, and you’ve got two credit cards - so you’re most likely in debt.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “The only things I don’t see are your company ID and your Social Security Number.”

Her rage escalated. “So you know my name and my financial status; big deal. I learned not to carry those pieces of ID with me a long time ago.” She turned her face away from him once again. “Good luck trying to find those out.”

Vanitas started to chuckle, slowly pushing himself off the desk and sauntering closer to her. “You’ve got a mouth on you, don’t you, Bluebird?” His fingertips trailed to her chin, forcefully turning her face back towards his own. Her eyes met his own as he trailed his thumb across her lower lip; a total violation of her personal space. “A pretty mouth, sure, but still a feisty one.”

Don’t touch me. Her lip twitched under his touch. God, she wanted to bite his fingers off.

Quick as a whip, his fingers were off her body and pulling his gun out from its holster. He placed the muzzle between her eyes, all traces of his earlier amusement gone.

“We need to teach you some proper manners.”

Aqua gasped at the feeling of the metal on her skin. It was cold - a stark contrast to the warmth of his touch against her face. It took a second for her mind to register.

Fuck. Stay calm… stay calm. “I’m…I…”

“Stand up once I get the ties off.” Vanitas’s voice was like stone, hard and unyielding. “Mind your balance and do as I say.” He moved down, continuing to point the gun at her before leaning down to work at the knots with one hand.

She was barely aware of him untying her. All she could focus on was the weapon pointed at her face.

Stay calm… stay calm…

“Alright.” His voice cut through the silence. “Get up and go sit on my desk.” He stood and moved backwards, waving the gun towards his desk in an arch. “Face my chair, and don’t try anything funny now.”

Hands where he could see them, Aqua took careful steps to the desk, afraid that a wrong move would anger him. She thought for a brief moment about reaching for the pocket knife that was hidden in her boot - a suggestion from the “Square” before she’d left that morning. It most likely wouldn’t work; Vanitas had a fucking gun. A single bullet would end her before she could even bend.

She scanned his desk for anything she could use against him. That was no use either; the desk was strangely bare, with nothing but a green banker’s lamp, a rotary telephone, the crystal ashtray, and Vanitas’s black pen sitting on top of the wood grain. Anxiety curling in her gut, Aqua turned her back towards the desk and sat on top of it. Her hands fell to the edge, gripping the wood tightly.

Vanitas twirled the gun by the trigger guard and whistled as he sat back down into his deep brown leather seat. "What shall I do with you, hm?” He spoke casually, his earlier icy tone seemingly melted away. “You still haven't told me what paper you're from, and it'd be a shame if I had to kill you so easily."

He stopped spinning the gun, only to press the muzzle against one of her knees. "Spread these for me."

Aqua blinked in confusion. “W-What..?”

"You heard me." His icy tone returned as he pressed the metal harder into her skin. "Spread. These. For. Me."

“Alright! Alright…” She pulled up the hem of her green pencil skirt, slowly shifting it up her legs and hips so she could spread her legs. Flush rose high on her cheeks as she realized he could see her underwear now. It was fairly plain - a solid grey with no lace or fancy patterns - but the mere thought of someone like him seeing what she wore underneath was enough to embarrass her.

Vanitas hummed as he watched, trailing the muzzle back and forth from her knee to her inner thigh. "You're very proper, hm? Don't wear anything sexy when you're on the job? No lace? No fishnet?" The corner of his lips turned up suggestively as he brought his cigar to them. "That a policy of your paper, or does your boring boss only like virginal women?"

“It’s part of the job,” she said quietly, “I…I have to project a professional image at all times.” The cool metal against her skin caused her to tremble; she steadied quickly, silently hoping he hadn’t noticed. “The boss wants us to keep it as simple as possible, even underneath our clothes.”

Vanitas pursed his lips before exhaling the smoke out of the corner of his mouth. "He sounds like a prude." His eyes flicked from his ministrations to her face. He smirked at her.

Shit.

He pressed the gun to her clothed core, dragging it up and down. She tried not to gasp.

"You seem like someone that wants more excitement than that, since we caught you snooping around my territory..."

Her eyebrows creased. “It’s not so much ‘looking for excitement’ as it is ‘doing my job pro…’” She trailed off for the briefest of moments, swallowing heavily. “...’Properly.’” She tried to look away from him, willing her gaze to fall on something other than the glint in his eyes. Something that would distract her from the feel of the metal against the warmth of her centre, from the unwelcome pleasure between her legs.

Unfortunately for Aqua, he kept moving that gun across her core at an even pace. Each drag made it harder and harder to appear unaffected. Her façade would crumble if he kept this up.

"What did he ask you to get, hm?" Vanitas asked, nudging the gun harder each time it brushed against that little bundle of nerves he seemed to know so well. "A photograph of me in action? A conversation of my goings-on in the speakeasies downtown? Me, recounting how I 'had to do it to them,' because they were trying to take what's mine?"

She bit her lip, attempting to avoid continuing the conversation. She feared her voice would betray her, which would only encourage him further.

His brows creased in annoyance. "You reporter types are always the fuckin' same. Gossiping your big flaps off, hoping for a better scoop than the other ones." He moved the gun away from her for the briefest of moments to cross his leg over his other thigh. He waved the gun towards her spread legs as he leaned back into his chair.

“Take ‘em off.”

Aqua let out a shaky breath. She really didn’t want to… but she knew she had no other options in a position like this. She hooked her thumbs into her panties and pulled them down, watching as they slid down to her ankles.

Hopefully that’s good. Wait… he said to take them off, right? Would he be mad if I left them like this?

Not wanting to die on a technicality, she reached forward to pull the offending garment off her body. Before she could grab them, however-

Oh shit.

Her panties slid directly into his open lap. She silently prayed he wouldn’t take that as an eager invitation.

Vanitas chuckled, looking up at her flushed face. "Well, would you look at that - they're practically jumping off for me." Using the gun, he beckoned her closer. "Move to the edge of my desk.” He paused for a moment. “And spread those legs again; let me get a good look at you."

Oh god.

Aqua positioned herself at the edge of the desk. She squeezed her eyes shut, mortified, as she spread her legs. She’d exposed herself before with previous partners, but not like this. Not against a desk, her legs this wide, and with so little say in what was happening. She slowly opened her eyes and looked past his shoulder once again, focusing all of her attention on the painting behind him.

Vanitas whistled, placing his cigar fully in his mouth. Her gaze fell to his face for the briefest of moments. His expression seemed dreamy as he took in the sight of her.

"God, I've missed a sight like this,” he mused as her attention flicked back to the painting. “Someone spread nice and wide for me, almost dripping with eager anticipation. Makes me feel like a fuckin' king."

Keep calm, she thought to herself, don’t let him get to you.

The gun went right back to her inner thigh, each drag nearing closer and closer to her folds.

"Now tell me what paper you're from.” He jutted his chin towards her. “You a big-shot reporter, or are you from a fresh start-up I've never heard of?"

So he doesn’t know anyone from the other papers after all…

“‘The Wayfinder,’” she blurted, “it’s a small little newspaper. Brand new. Not worth your time.” She shivered as the gun edged closer to her core. “We’re not much - barely even a threat to you.”

He scoffed at this. " Every paper is a threat to me. One of you squawks, then you all have to sink your teeth in. Like we're some piece of ribeye, and you're all starving animals." He traced the muzzle up and down her folds, grinning as her slick covered the cool metal. "Well I don't feel like being led to the slaughter tonight."

Her heart raced. Disgust clung to the back of her throat with each drag. It made her sick, repulsed her. She could tell that his patience was wearing thin. Her hand was empty, no more cards left to play in this twisted game. What else could she give him?

Nothing. He had what he needed, the chips stacked in his favour. She was certain that trigger would go off any minute now.

Her eyes met his golden ones. “Please,” she pleaded, “please let me go.”

“Not a chance, love.” He placed the muzzle against her entrance, nudging the tip inside of her.

Dread invaded her as he slid such a dangerous thing in such an intimate, delicate place. The cool metal was a shock against the warmth of her entrance, making it hard to ignore. Her grip on the edge of the desk tightened as she willed her body to stop shaking.

“Get this nice and wet for me.”

Aqua felt as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over her. No.

With a smirk, Vanitas slid the muzzle inside of her, coating the barrel with her slick. She tensed at the intrusion, squeezing her eyes shut. He chuckled before he started to pump the barrel in and out, letting her become accustomed to its size and temperature. “Fuck yourself on this,” he said through his laughter. “And don’t hold your pleasure back. I want to watch you come undone by my hand.”

Her eyes fluttered open and the knot in her stomach tightened. “You…you’re not serious…”

His eyebrows creased as he slowly brought his hand up and took his cigar between his fingers once again. "Did I fuckin' stutter, sugar?" He asked, leaning forward.

She flinched at the sudden movement. Her eyes followed the smouldering tip, worried he would press the cinders against her skin. He tapped the cigar once again on the rim of the crystal ashtray. She exhaled a relieved breath through her nose.

"I don't fuck around when I want something." He pushed the gun further inside of her, his thumb inching closer to the hammer. "Fuck. Yourself. On. This."

Setting her pride aside, Aqua gripped the edge of the desk. With a deep breath, she rocked her hips against the cool metal barrel. It’s survival, she reminded herself with each push and pull inside of her. He was a sick bastard - no wonder the tabloids desperately wanted evidence of his atrocities to put him behind bars.

His golden eyes met hers. She averted her gaze, unwilling to look him in the eye as she moved her hips.

Please don’t go off, please don’t go off.

Vanitas smirked, sliding the barrel in and out at the same even pace she was riding. “I said not to hide,” he singsonged, sliding his leg off his thigh and spreading both of his legs wide.

Nerves on edge, she glanced his way. She regretted it immediately; her gaze fell between his legs, where there was a definite tent in his trousers. She bit her tongue, squirming internally.

Ugh, he’s enjoying this…

“I’m not hiding,” she muttered, letting out a small huff of frustration. Here he was, pretending this weapon was some fucked up sex toy, talking to her as if they were lovers having a bit of fun. Her body did little to discourage him; pleasure rose with each drag of her core against the barrel. She mulled over the possibility of faking an orgasm for the briefest of moments, just to get it over with. At that moment, the barrel nudged against a particularly sensitive spot and she let out a small gasp.

He grinned before twisting his head down to look at her shoes. “Cute heels,” he commented. “Dress code or personal choice?”

Could he at least spare the small talk? Her face twisted; he complimented her heels as if they were friends talking about the weather. “Personal.” She snapped, willing her attention to fall anywhere but his face.

"Good taste," he whistled. "A little conservative, perhaps, but you gotta give people the illusion of someone well put together. Can't have everyone knowing you're a whore on the inside, right?” He gave a quick shrug of his shoulders. “Not that it matters to me. I like my girls with a bit of zing."

She opened her mouth to protest. As she did so, he leaned forward once again; her mouth snapped shut. He stamped his cigar out in the ashtray before leaning back with a smirk. Her eyes fell to the smoke coming from the extinguished cigar and she sighed with relief.

One less hazard…

"Tell me about the scoop you were supposed to get,” he said smoothly. “I wanna know what the papers are trying to find."

“Evidence,” she breathed, “any information, really.”

"Anything?” Vanitas pursed his lips. “That seems a little vague for the papers." He reached forward, taking one of her ankles in his hand and thumbing at her skin.

What is he doing? Aqua thought. It feels kind of…nice.

"They've been spying on me since I got involved with the alcohol trade,” he continued, thumb tracing back and forth in a hypnotic pattern only he seemed to know. “I'm sure your little 'startup' wants the same scoop."

He sped up the movement of the gun inside of her. Aqua couldn’t help but let out a moan; the gun had unfortunately hit just the right spot. She squirmed against the desk at the feeling. If he kept that pace up, if he hit it enough, she would certainly have the weirdest orgasm of her life.

“They’re dying to get any information about you. We see you’ve been cautious - no one’s been able to link anything back to you. It’s why some have nicknamed you ‘The Shadow.’”

She hoped that was enough information for him. Her boss's request had been rather vague: “evidence” could be a myriad of things, like his extinguished cigar, or the gun currently between her legs.

Vanitas hummed at this. "’The Shadow,’ huh?” He grinned widely. “I like it. Mysterious." He sighed happily before he moved the toe of her heel closer to his arousal. She twisted her lip at this.

If I shift my foot just right, I can shove my heel right in his cock…

"Still wonder how you seem to catch my boys in action, though,” he continued as his thumb continued tapping her ankle. “Scrapper puts up a massive fight whenever people get too close to 'im."

Her thought was interrupted not only by his words, but by a sense of growing pleasure flowing through her. Was it the fear that did it? Did she somehow…like this? Her leg started to shake. If he found out…

He searched her face and chuckled at the flush he saw. Wait, why was he giving her that look? Was she red in the face? Oh god. She was, wasn't she?

"Rub your heel against me, sugar. I'm feelin' neglected here."

Disgust creeping into her throat, she traced her heel along the outline of his cock. Just step on it , she thought bitterly as he sighed in pleasure.

“Ah, that feels good. Maybe we can have a little ‘roll in the hay’ after this. What do you think?” He tilted the revolver; she gasped at the sudden jerk. “Bet you’d rather feel something hot and wet pulsing inside of you, huh?”

God, please don’t kill me. If he kept messing around, he might get carried away and pull that trigger.

Aqua weighed her options. It wasn’t the easiest task in the world, given that each press of the gun peaked her pleasure higher and higher. She bit her lip, fighting the urge to moan. “Yes, I'd rather…” She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ignore each tantalizing press. “I’d much rather… fuck …”

“Look at me.” He pressed the gun in further with a chuckle. The thrust ripped the hidden moan out of her. “Use your words, sugar, or I’ll have no choice but to let you go out with a bang.”

She forced herself to look at him, panting, face flushed.

No. Fuck. Stop. I don’t want to come like this.

“What do you want me to say?” Aqua snapped, tension releasing like a broken rubber band. “You want me to beg for you? To say ‘Please, fuck me’? Is that what you want to hear?”

Vanitas’s eyebrows creased into a hard line. "Hey, now; I like my girls loud as much as the next guy, but I do not tolerate brats. You should be grateful that I didn’t just blow you to bits."

His thumb pulled back the hammer with a click.

“Fuck, fuck.” She trembled. “I didn’t mean to yell, I swear, I just…” She trailed off with a swallow as she struggled to find her voice. “Could you please just not play with it?” She asked with a hushed whisper. “Please ?”

"I make no promises." He thumbed at her ankle once again. "Now come on; keep riding. I want this thing dripping.” He nudged his knee into her heel. “I didn't say you could stop your foot, either."

Aqua steadied herself as she picked up the pace. Her eyes locked with his. If she didn’t look at the gun, she could imagine it was something - anything - else. Her heel dragged across his arousal before she placed a steady pressure on his length. “Is this what gets you off?” She asked, attempting to hide the disgust in her voice.

"That's it, sugar,” Vanitas hissed, “that's what daddy likes.” He rolled his head back with a grin. “Keep it up, dollface."

Again with the stupid nicknames…

She bit her lip as she rolled her hips, the cold, hard metal hitting that sweet spot deep inside of her. She wasso wet. Each nudge of her hips only made the gun slicker, the sound almost deafening over each heated breath.

To her, it was a shame that it had to be like this. Legs spread wide for a wanted criminal, sitting on a hard desk. Not at home, lights turned low, with a partner that genuinely loved her.

Fuck, just come already…

Letting out a breath, she braced herself for what she considered to be the most shameful thing she would ever do in her life. "Is Vanitas your real name?" She asked, slowly working at the buttons on her blouse.

Vanitas chuckled, rubbing circles into her ankle. “Maybe I should leave you guessing. The Shadow is a good nickname, y’know… maybe I should have you call me that instead.”

She paused to give him a look.

He chuckled. “Yes,” he continued, “my real name is Vanitas. I expect you to scream it.”

She mentally rolled her eyes. Talk about egocentric. “Alright… Vanitas it is.”

Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back, rocking her hips to the rhythm of his hand. The angle of the gun was perfect, so perfect, as it nudged against her. Warmth spread low in her abdomen, craving relief. “Vanitas…”

“That’s better,” he purred, taking his hand off her leg. “Wish you could see yourself right now.” He palmed himself through his pants with a groan. “You’re hot stuff, doll.”

Aqua continued to chase her orgasm, choosing to ignore his praise. Her hips struggled to keep the pace even as her body shook with pleasure. “Vanitas,” she whimpered desperately. She was right at the edge, full to the brim and about to spill over. “Vanitas…”

One more roll, just one more roll, and she would-

“Vanitas!”

She spilled - literally - as she teetered right over that edge. All over his gun, all over his hand, all over his finely pressed suit. He watched her unravel with a low chuckle. "Messy, messy, messy…"

Aqua was beyond mortified - but she felt so good, tension rolling out of her limbs as she let out heavy breaths.

“I'd be lying if I said that wasn't the hottest shit I've ever seen. Shame I'll have to clean this suit now, though. It's one of my favourites."

She barely heard him; she was still in a world of her own, his words sounding warbled in her ears. She was experiencing such a pleasant buzz, one she didn’t want to end.

She was here, alive and breathing. As mortified as she felt beneath the haze… she had to admit that it was one of the best experiences she’d ever had in her life.

“As hot as that was, doll,” Vanitas hummed, “I still don’t trust you to keep quiet. If you can scream like that during sex…” He pressed the revolver deeper inside of her. “Who’s to say you won’t go squealing like that to the papers, hm?”

Aqua squeaked. She was still sensitive, still coming down from that pleased cloud she was riding. She looked at him through her sweaty bangs, brows creased. If looks could kill... “What do you mean?” She panted. “Everyone screams during sex.”

“Not everyone,” he mused, “some are squealers, some are whiners.” His finger slid slowly up and down the trigger. “I’m not convinced you’ll keep quiet…”

“I will,” she stammered once again. “You have my word.”

This was it, she’d died young. No husband, no children. Her mentor, years ago, told her once that work would be the cause of her demise if she didn’t slow down.

It seemed that time was now.

“I did what you asked,” she whispered. “Please… let me go.”

He grinned, the corners of his mouth rivalling that of the Cheshire Cat. “Not a chance.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, fear coursing through her veins-

Click.

Nothing happened.

Nervously, she opened one of her eyes. She was still here. Still here, very much alive, pulse thundering heavily beneath her skin.

What the fuck…?

Vanitas started to laugh. It sounded mean , as if he was making fun of her for being scared.

“You’re too sexy to murder, sugar.”

It wasn’t loaded. It wasn’t loaded and he’d made her…

He slid the gun from between her legs and turned it in his hand. He admired the sheen of her arousal across the metal. “What a show you put on for me. Most fun I’ve had in months.” Bringing the gun to his face, he dragged his tongue through her slick with a smirk.

Aqua stared at him in disbelief, mouth gaping. She wanted to yell at him. Call him any name she could muster - bastard, monster, scum. Unable to find her voice, she covered her face with her hands, took a couple of deep breaths, and willed herself to remain strong in front of this… freak.

"Don't look so glum, doll,” he said before swiping his tongue once again over the cool metal. “I bet you've never had that happen to you before. Y’know, you almost made me cum, too.”

She didn’t dare to look at him. She merely closed her legs, wincing as she felt her slick coat the back of her thighs.

“You're a fox." He sighed in pleasure. "I wonder if I could turn you into a little bunny. Make you hop against this desk..."

“Didn’t you have your fun already?” She snapped.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Sure I did, sugar. Like I said, it’s been the most fun I’ve had in a long time. But for me, personally… that was only foreplay.”

Aqua sighed, taking her hands away from her face. She’d rather let him fuck her than risk the possibility that he might come up with something else; something even more deranged. He could even debate calling his men in to have their way with her. That thought alone made her shudder.

I suppose I don’t have much of a choice right now…

She straightened, staring into his eyes. “Where do you want me? Well…?” Gripping the edge of the desk, she began to part her legs.

Vanitas’s eyes trailed lower. The sight of her folds glistening in the low light made his cock twitch.

"You can stay right there. You look good on my desk." He grinned once more, tossing his hat to the side. “This’ll be fun for both of us, sugar…”

#kingdom hearts #vanitas #aqua #vanqua #vanaqua #1920s #fic #ao3 #writing #cowriter

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theghostkingisdead · 1 month

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dpxdc - Neglected Child AU

As one of his first acts as Ghost King, Danny basically created ghost CPS. Mostly they help new spirits come to terms with the fact that they're dead, but situations like Danny's are a lot more common than the Observants had lead him to believe. People who come back from the dead or are exposed to large quantities of unstable ectoplasm often lead sad, short second lives. Either because they are unable to obtain the nutrients their new forms require, or because their communities turn against them in fear. This is a story about Jason Todd.

There was a lot Jazz loved about her job. She loved helping young ghosts find acceptance. She loved matching cases with foster Fraids. She loved meeting new people. She loved the rare excuse to travel dimensions. But some days, Jazz was intimately reminded of why this program was formed in the first place.

Knock, knock, knock.

Jazz looked up from her laptop. “Come in!”

Apple – the ghost of a dryad whose tree was chopped down two summers ago – poked her head in.

“Uh, Lady- I mean, Ms. Phan-, no,” Apple took a shuddering breath. Jazz smiled encouragingly. The girl had only been working here for a season, and already she was making excellent progress. “Ms. Jasmine, there’s a city spirit here to see you, uh, on behalf of a uh, potential client.”

“Thank you, Apple, you can send them in.” Jazz said.

Apple flushed green, closing the door with a sigh. Jazz guessed she had about two minutes before the impromptu meeting began. She used the time to sweep some papers off her desk and into a drawer. It had been some time since she’d had a walk-in like this. Jazz had a strict open doors policy when it came to her office, despite the technical fact that her door was often closed; it was just easier to focus that way! She had no idea why most ghosts preferred to submit claims by mail, really it was much better for them to speak with an officer in person.

Thirty years ago, Jazz would’ve had trouble describing the spirit that walked through the doors. Fifty years ago, even looking at it would’ve been painful. But Jasmine Duchess Phantom had been living in the Infinite Realms for almost eighty years now, and liminal senses reached out subconsciously, cataloging scents and colors that her mortal mind would have balked at.

The shape of a steel-colored skeleton peered out at her from a billowing cloud of grey smoke, which curled around its feet and seeped across the floor. Jazz tasted gunmetal and sugar, smelled stale urine and burned bread, felt desperation-fear-hunger-love crash violently against her. Like a cliff to a wave, Jazz stood her ground, letting herself be tested. This spirit was old and afraid; when it spoke, it spoke in a million overlapping voices.

“My apologies for barging in unannounced, Your Grace. I come before you with an issue of great import. One I have reason to believe our King may have a personal interest in.”

Jazz nodded, “My doors are always open, City Spirit. I’m always happy to help. But before I hear your petition, may I know who I am addressing?”

The skeleton did not move that she could see, but Jazz heard windchimes like chittering laughter.

“I am Gotham, Your Grace. My apologies for my rudeness. I have little reason to travel these days and am unaccustomed to necessary introductions.”

Jazz nodded, committing the name and its taste to memory. “No need to apologize, Gotham. Your situation is not unique amongst your kind. Have a seat,” Jazz gestured at the plush couch across from her desk. “What troubles you so, to bring you so far from home?”

There was more windchime tittering, and Jazz wondered if the spirit was laughing or just readjusting itself on a plane she could not see. A nervous tick, perhaps? Maybe she could send Apple for something to make Gotham feel more at ease. Bullet casings or chocolate chip cookies would be equally soothing to this entity, Jazz guessed.

Gotham folded into itself, form blurring slightly before reforming on the couch, leaned forward with elbows on knees. “Many years ago, a mortal man pledged himself to my service. I accepted him as a City Guard, my mortal Champion. This man has many children who have likewise pledged themselves to my protection.”

Jazz smothered the urge to interrupt. She loathed the idea of child Guards; the fact that this City Spirit was here now asking for help meant that this instance had gone just as well as it usually did.

Unaware of her internal judgement, Gotham continued. “The second child died and revived some seven years ago, I…” This time, the rattling sound emanating from Gotham shook the room with the force of a thunderclap. “You have to understand, I don’t claim kids as champions, so technically he was never even under my protection. And when he came back, he ran! I don’t have power outside the city, you know, so even if, well, it’s not like there was anything I could have done differently,”

Jazz was aware that she was frowning. She could only guess what her aura felt like to Gotham, whose smoky aura was rapidly thickening. A bird puffing itself up to look bigger. A cheap trick. If Jazz were in a more compassionate mood, she might have felt embarrassed at such a juvenile display from a spirit decades older than herself.

“You neglected a child, or-” she cut off Gotham before it could protest, “allowed a child to be neglected. For seven years. What changed? Why petition him now and not then?”

Gotham chittered, “Well, you see, he came back to me just over a year ago, retook his pledge and everything. And, well, things were rough, I thought the fraid was just readjusting itself, but, er-”

“Tell me.”

“Well, the problem is I don’t exactly know what the boy is anymore, but he’s more ghostly than not, and his fraid’s fully human. If this infighting between my Guards goes on for any longer, it’ll tear me apart. I figured The King might want to step in, considering this boy might be a halfa, maybe he could help him and the fraid get back to normal.”

Jazz grinned. “Rest assured, Gotham, The Crown will indeed be taking special interest in your case.” Words dripped from her lips, caustic even to her own ears. “Now, why don’t you go outside and give Apple the rest of the details. I have some visits to make.”

#ghost king danny #dpxdc jason todd #jasmine fenton #jazz fenton #sentient gotham #neglected child au #dpxdc #yeah i'm really excited about this idea. its been cooking for a while now .#its nowhere near complete but honestly i'm having trouble with batfam characterization. if anyones interested in like #cowriting #my dms are always open #unedited

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