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pirateprincessblog · 2 years

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Read For Me 》 P. Seonghwa

NEW! Read the ongoing full version on Wattpad!

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔:

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𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: books, fanfictions, TV shows and games took your excitement about real life away. nothing has your heart beating fast, everything is pretty much the same and dull to you. nobody could pull you out of your void of fantasy for a long time. still, your best friend decides to try one last time. she does succeed, but not in the way she meant. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: psh x reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.9k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: smut, angst, best friend's father seonghwa 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, nsfw scenes, unprotected sex 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: in my dilf atz phase.

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

༻♡༺

Buried into your books and the void of the fantasy world, you had little to no excitement left in your body for the real life events. They lacked... something. Everything was awkward, miscalculated, weird and stiff. In books, the world was so fluid. Tension, passion, strong emotions like love and hate were on almost all pages. It filled your empty memories and fantasies just right. You now wished to drop out of college, buy a castle, run into a mysterious higher vampire and be the reason he exists as a good person now. Or maybe succeed in going through the wall and ending up on Platform 9¾, preferably face first into Cedric Diggory's chest.

Erotica isn't foreign to you either. They say the dirtiest ones are usually the virgins. And they weren't wrong. The amount of frustration trapped in you did you no good. You used to wonder how your male friends could do it so often, but once you got a taste of that side, you understood better than anyone. Countless nights of your fingers working on all your sensitive buds had you only wishing for more, even after release. It just wasn't enough. You hoped for a miracle every single time. You hoped that one of the men from your fantasies would appear in your room and satisfy you just how you wanted. Wouldn't it be just perfect if Henry Cavill appeared in the room? Preferably in his Witcher costume? If not him, then Lee Dong Wook would do equally good.

You drop your book on the bed. Your eyes skimmed over words, but you didn't pay attention to a single thing that was written. You decide to take a break from reading. Maybe you could even drink your first glass of water today. The sun was almost setting, yet you only had a bowl of cereal and half of a pizza slice. You glance at the clock. You despised it. It only reminded you of how fast time flies. You didn't even get to the steamy part of your fantasy, yet you already had to get dressed and wait for your friend in the driveway.

Your college best friend is back from her seasonal vacation in the Alps. Or was it Greece this time? It didn't even matter. It seemed like they only went to keep the tradition, not because they wanted to. She was probably richer than the whole college combined, yet she didn't know where to use all her fortune. So she settled for buying presents for her friends, which is why you now have a full wall covered with books and collectible figures and movie props.

Thirty minutes later, you are outside, your eyes searching for a black Mercedes with light up wheels and a suspicious looking driver. All three of their bodyguards were funny. They weren't as they described them in books. Her bodyguards were stiff, bland, and didn't say more than a greeting. You didn't exactly expect them to flirt with you any chance they get like you were used to on the pages, but the behaviour was still a disappointment for you.

Chills run up your spine as you watch the sun set. You regret picking out the outfit you are wearing. As if you weren't aware that the summer days are far behind. You wore the dress you got from her last trip to Paris. She had a great fashion sense and loved fashion in general, and to turn down her clothes meant a heartbreak for her.

"As soon as I saw it, I thought: her."

The way she described how she found it was amusing to you. It was knee-length and had long see-through sleeves. You felt the prettiest in it.

Finally, you heard the familiar engine. You didn't even have to look. The vehicle pulled up in front of you, and before the driver could get out, the door opened. A tall masculine figure stepped out of the car, and opened the door all the way for you. You feel chills run up your spine once again, this time not from the cold, but from the sight in front of you.

The man in front of you was absolutely stunning. He had the sparkliest and biggest eyes you had ever seen, broad shoulders, a confident smirk and-

"Dad, stop messing with her! She will think she is going to get kidnapped!" Your friend's voice yelled from inside the car.

You gulped, eyes still not leaving his face. In the three years of your friendship with her, you never saw her parents. Especially her father. Not even on photos. So, naturally, you'd need time to recover from this shock.

"Whenever you are ready."

The man politely bowed his head towards the seats, then stepped back so he could close the door after you. He sat in the front seat, then nodded towards the driver as a sign to turn on the engine.

The ride was peaceful, if you exclude your friend's nails clicking against the phone screen.

"I hear you like books." The words drip from his lips like honey.

You blush at simple eye contact through the rear mirror. His gaze has your fingers playing in your lap and your thighs pressed together.

He is so hot.

"I do, Mr Park."

"That's lovely. It's rare to find people in younger generations that enjoy reading. They mainly use it as a reason to bully someone."

"It truly is," you confirm, wanting to keep the conversation going. "You enjoy books too, Sir?"

Fathers of your other friends usually tell you to call them by their names. But not Park Seonghwa. He sure as fuck is not like other fathers you've met. You don't remember the last time your cheeks felt so hot because of someone.

"Of course. I have a whole library in my house. You are free to see it if you wish. My sweet social daughter will show you. Won't you, darling?"

His gaze switches to your friend, who is too invested in the ongoing conversation on her phone to pay attention to the one happening in real life.

"Sure, sure."

Park Seonghwa shook his head with a chuckle, then sat back in silence. You looked around you. The girl next to you was dressed beautifully as usual. It surprised you how she could make all those weird elements feel so ordinary and pretty. You, on the other hand, struggled to pair the jeans and a top. You barely figured out which shoes went with the dress. You felt underdressed. Her father wore a suit, and she had an elegant short blazer which matched her trousers, paired up with heels and a matching purse. You had a phone in your hand and a tote bag with your pajamas for the night. And a jacket to keep you warm. It didn't go with the outfit you had poorly put together at all. You wanted to run back home and wear something more fitting for the house you'll be staying in for a day or two.

You were in it once. You felt ridiculously small inside it. The ceilings were so high, dazzling chandeliers hanging from them. The windows were tall and in a minimalistic style. You only wondered how much time it took to clean them. They had all sorts of things you thought were unnecessary. Like a pool. The beach was just fifteen minutes away, the pool was there just to show off. So many bedrooms also had you confused. Since Spring, only two people live there now; your friend and her father. The mother filed for a divorce as she found love in a tourist from Poland. Poor Mr Park.

"Let's go," your friend finally put the phone away.

It took you a few moments to take in all the differences that were made. The portrait of a woman and a child above the fireplace was now gone and replaced with one of the man you just met and a young lady in which you found a sister 3 years ago.

"Anyone want my famous fig cheese prosciutto bites?" The man held a silver plate full of the said bites in front of the girls.

"No, dad, disgusting. Fruit and meat?"

"Growing up this spoiled one would think your taste in food would get better. Chicken nuggets don't really pass as an appetiser meal."

You watch with amusement as the two exchange a few funny grimaces, before your friend makes her way towards her room. "You eat some of that, since I know damn well you didn't eat shit today."

"I so did."

"You're so lying, bitch."

You laugh, ready to throw the word right back at her, when you feel Mr Park's gaze on you.

"Cuss her out all you want. It is none of my business."

"No, no. It's not quite appropriate for someone to talk like that."

In front of you, you add in your mind.

He hums, then smiles at you. "Bite?"

"I'd love to."

It takes only an eyebrow raise from him to let you know that you could've worded it better.

"I mean, I'd love one."

You take one from the plate, then admire it. Were you supposed to shove the whole thing in your mouth? Maybe pull it apart and eat it in rows? Bite into it?

"I don't usually try to poison my daughter's friends, doll. Just enjoy it. If we don't eat these tonight, they will go bad and I'll have to throw them away."

The little nickname slip had your toes wiggling in your shoes. He is so effortlessly breathtaking. Seeing that you're still struggling with the food, he takes one bite in his hand. He removes the toothpick holding the ingredients together, then steps towards you.

Every thought you had in your mind until then disappeared. Park Seonghwa gently cupped your lower jaw, and you relax into his touch. You look straight into his eyes as he puts the food between your lips. When you fail to move on your own, he smirks with amusement. Two fingers gently push the food into your mouth, resting on your tongue for a split second.

"Can you chew that for me?"

You feel your core throb. You feel fragile and weak under his touch. Most of all, you feel horny for your friend's dad. You remember to blink, then start chewing on the delicious food. He does not avert his eyes as you do so. Once you made sure to chew enough times, you finally swallow. A satisfied smile decorated his face as his thumb caressed your cheek, hand still cupping your jaw.

"Good girl."

You think you see stars. Park Seonghwa has an impact nobody ever had on you. And lots of them tried. Park Seonghwa didn't even need to try. He just - existed.

The man lets go of your face, then silently makes his way towards his room. At least you assume it is his room. He walked away so calmly, almost making you think you imagined what had just happened. Your face suddenly feels empty and cold without his touch. He had you in a chokehold with a simple touch and a smile.

You almost forget about your best friend waiting in her room. You hope your blushing won't betray you. After all, she must be tired of people wanting to fuck her dad.

Your conversations and jokes don't stop until after midnight. By now, you've had a stand-up show, a few episodes of your favorite TV show, a few funny clips of your favorite artists, and a fashion show. You are exhausted, almost ready for bed. Almost. You still need to get the frustration out somehow. The younger girl is more than ready for bed. The moment her head touched the pillow, she was out of this world. You laugh at her smeared makeup, then reach for the box of wet wipes. You gently clean her face, then try to do her usual routine. You don't remember it, but you try your best.

You make your way to her tall mirror, ready to clean your face too. If your best friend didn't study and work with fashion, she would surely be a makeup artist. It's a pity that you have to wipe down the art she created. Your hands fall down, and your eyes skim over your outfit and hair. She made you wear the brand new lingerie she got for her birthday as a joke. It was funny when they were in her hands, but you'll never forget the gasp that came out of her when you stepped out of the big wardrobe.

"Wanna scissor?"

You'd be up to try it, just not with her. Not while you have her dad on your mind. Perhaps- perhaps you could suddenly get thirsty and go to the kitchen dressed like that? The lingerie was now hidden under a short silver silk dress she wore for her ex boyfriend's birthday party. It looked plain and stupid, but the young girl had the power to turn it into something jaw dropping. Paired with silver heels and dazzling makeup, you looked ready for, well, someone to destroy it.

You open the door, then slowly step in the hallway. The girl explained that Mr Park's room is at the end of the hallway, but you cannot just walk in and expect something to happen. Maybe he simply liked teasing. Maybe he never responds to all those calls for pleasure. He is surely aware of what an impact he has on people, and maybe he finds it amusing. You still have a shot to see for yourself.

You drink a glass of water. Then another one. He isn't here. He must be asleep already. He is a hard working man after all. All this didn't come into his life easily. God, good looking and hard-working? He must be the whole package. Who in their right mind would leave a man like this? Perhaps she couldn't keep up with his sex drive. You hope.

You set the glass aside, and examine the kitchen again. Many drinks decorated the shelves, along with luxurious looking glasses and other glass decorations. You could only dream of having a home like this. You could probably afford a single spoon from the bottom drawer. You just couldn't wait to meet your soul mate and force your brilliant ideas on them. After all, you have a gift for that. Decorating, I mean. Not the forcing part.

You feel less sleepy now that you've drank so much water. You wander around the living room for a while, hoping he would come down at any moment. Yet it still doesn't happen. Your feet carry you to the door near the staircase. You slowly open it, then look around. With your luck, he will come down now that you are snooping around his home. He better stay asleep now.

You step inside, debating whether to turn on the lights. Fuck it, you think. Your hand finds the light switch on the cold wall. You squint at the sudden brightness. It takes a while for your eyes to get used to it, but when they do, all you can do is gasp.

The walls were covered with antique bookshelves, each filled with books from top to bottom. They were divided in sections, and they had the most beautiful covers and spines you've ever seen. You step inside, closing the door behind. The room was endless rows of fantasy, sci-fi, romance, poetry, educational books, and-

Erotica.

Fuck, lots of erotica. A whole wall, maybe even two, dedicated to the sinful delight. You didn't even need to check if you're right. You'd recognise some of those spines even in darkness. A single desk is placed in the middle of the room, along with a comfortable looking chair. Pens and notebooks are neatly placed in the top corner, and a book rests at the edge. A suit jacket, most probably Mr Park's, is placed over the backrest. The room was organised, clean, and smelled like sandalwood mixed with jasmine. It was pleasant enough to just stand there. Yet the curiosity got the best (or worst) of you, as it always did.

The smell of books takes over your senses. You feel the worn out spines and edges under your fingertips. He has them all: from the very first romance novels with the very first sex scenes to steamy books who had sex written all over them. You weren't sure which ones you liked more. You only knew that you'd settle for anything just to get a little taste.

Your gaze falls on the book which laid on the desk. His most recent read, perhaps? It still had a bookmark, you notice. You sit on the chair, and almost sink into it from the softness. You close your eyes, inhaling all the scents you can. You sense a hint of bourbon. Even his scent makes your lower stomach burn with unreleased sensation.

You take the book into your hands, then turn it over. The summary made your curiosity even worse, and you could forget about sleep for at least two more hours. You lean back, put your feet on the desk, and happily start with the book. It has a plot, of course, but currently? You couldn't give a single fuck about it. But you aren't one to skip pages just to get to a certain point in the story. So you force yourself to read through the little boring descriptions. In the corner of your eye, you spot a box of tissues peeking out of the bottom drawers. You see no other chairs around here. It means that nobody enters the room.

A man and a box of tissues mean only one thing.

You sigh at the picture that forms in your head. You see Mr Park sitting on the chair. He is wearing his suit vest, a book in his hand and legs spread comfortably. His other hand is wrapped around his cock, which you know is thick. Your eyes have dropped down there once or twice. He is lazily stroking himself, his attention still fully on the book. There is just something so fucking hot about watching a man satisfy himself.

You feel your throat go dry. You open your eyes, ready to put the book away and try to go to sleep. Yet the plot has just started to get steamy. You sit back once again, the book in your hand not getting any rest tonight. Your eyes skim over the hot descriptions, each making you more flustered. The thought of Park Seonghwa reading this is driving you crazy.

Nicholas has waited for this moment for months, yet it felt like years to him. He would use every second of it, and he will be the best she ever had.

He worshipped her all night long, explored her body with his tongue, whispered sweet nothings into her ear, and grabbed at anything he could. He devoured her, his wet muscle tirelessly working on her sensitive bud. Her cries of pleasure had him cumming in his own pants, yet he didn't care. He existed for her, and her only.

Was it too much to ask for a simple eating out? You wonder how it feels. You had one, a long time ago. Along with a messy first time. God, the second time might've been ever messier. None of it was enjoyable. You too wanted to be manhandled. You too wanted to be worshipped. You wanted someone to tirelessly eat you out until you cream. And scream.

You groan. Continuing will do you no good, but going to sleep is impossible. You could rub out a quick one and then try to rest. Wouldn't be your first time. You feel yourself dripping through your panties. All these descriptions have your head spinning. You reach for the box of tissues. The last thing you needed was to leave evidence that you snooped around. If you're going to leave one, it better not be an arousal stain on the chair.

You pull the drawer so you can take the box out easier. If your jaw could drop to the floor, it probably would. Deeper in the drawer laid a purple gadget. You knew very well what it was. You were never brave enough to get one for yourself. Your parents liked to snoop a lot, and just now you realise where you got it from. He didn't use it on anyone, did he? Your friend did not mention any women near Mr Park. Besides, it feels good for men too.

You carefully take out the wand. It looks brand new, the see through film still wrapped around the head. It could help you out. You'd be finished even quicker. Nobody will ever know. You cannot afford it anymore anyway, so wasting an opportunity like this seems like a shame to you.

You put each leg over the armrests, then lay back comfortably. You press a button. The buzzing sound has your stomach filled with excitement. You resume the reading, the wand dangerously close to your crotch. You didn't remove the film, nor will you remove the panties. If someone barges in, you can throw it in the drawer and act stupid.

You bring the buzzing device closer, and closer, until it finally touches your burning clit. A gasp leaves your lips, the first vibrations giving you the satisfaction you needed. You try to focus on the words, yet the toy feels so good against you that you choose to drop the book and enjoy. You throw your head back, sighs and hums leaving your mouth as you work the toy on your clit. Your mind is clouded with thoughts of a single man. He is so close, yet so far. The scent from his vest is helping you get a clearer picture. He is skillfully working his fingers on you, filling you up just right and licking your juices off his hand so sinfully.

You groan. The vibrations are strong against you, and you don't think you can take it. You are not used to it. Fingers will have to do. You blindly search for the button. When you fail to find it, you open your eyes.

"Fuck-"

The rest of the words come out muffled. A hand is placed over your lips, and another one is covering yours on the wand. You shamelessly stare into the eyes of the man you want to fuck so bad. Judging by his gaze, you think he shares the idea. Without a single word, he presses the toy back into your clit. You sigh into his hand, head falling back and your back arching. You try to close your eyes, but a slap to your inner thigh makes you jump.

"Look at me."

You do as you are told. He does not avert his gaze, not even when you beg him to stop. You are feeling overstimulated, even though you did not orgasm.

"Found yourself a book to read?" He asks, eyes falling on it.

You nod. Now you know why the scent was stronger in the room. How long was he there?

"Come here."

He removes his hand from your face. You are taken aback by his demands. It is turning you on even more. With a single swipe, he drops all the pens and notebooks from the desk on the floor.

"You like wearing cute little dresses and parading around the house?"

"I wasn't-"

"I didn't say I didn't enjoy it." He licks his lips. His hands cup your waist, and you feel your body rise up. He places you on the desk, then rests his hands on your knees. In the most erotic way ever, he looks deep into your eyes, then gently spreads your legs. You want to melt into his arms right there. Mr Park steps between your thighs, hands resting on your cheeks.

"You look so innocent. So pretty for me to ruin."

You say nothing. Instead, you get closer to him. You wish to feel his lips. You wish to feel his tongue in many places.

"But you are far from innocent, aren't you? Probably the biggest slut I've ever met."

"Sir-"

"I don't fuck my daughter's friends, you know."

He places a hand on your chest, gently pushing you to lay down on the desk. He climbs on it with one knee, hand still caressing your cheek.

"Didn't promise anything about best friends though."

His lips hover above yours for a while. He is making it painful for you. He is making you beg. And you are ready to go down on your knees for him.

"I want to fucking ruin you, doll. I want to do all the things you've read about." He whispers into your mouth. His tongue peeks out to lick his lips, accidentally touching yours too. "I want to pound into you as you read your favorite book and struggle to focus. I want to tear you apart right on this desk."

You moan at his words. You swear you could cum from his dirty talk only.

"Will you let me get a taste of you?"

You nod eagerly. He chuckles, then presses a gentle kiss on your forehead. He is looking into your eyes in a way that has you rubbing your thighs together so you can get some friction.

"I need to hear you, love."

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"I'll let you get a taste of me," you repeat. It didn't sound as hot as when he said it. It didn't matter anyway.

Time passed so slow. You had an orgasm to chase, yet Park Seonghwa wouldn't move a single finger.

"Will you let me smear that pretty makeup of yours?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Will you let me stuff you with my cock like a good girl?"

"Y-yes, Sir," you breathe out. The formality is only adding up to the mood. First names are outdone anyway.

"And will you do as I say?"

"Yes," you nod, "yes I will. Anything."

"Anything?" He asks, his eyebrow raised.

"Anything, Sir."

Just when you think he is going to press his lips against yours, he reaches for something behind you. He holds the book in front of you, signaling you to take it.

"Read for me."

Read? It's erotica, not a bedtime story. Yet how can you say no when he asked you so nicely. You clear your throat, then continue where you left off.

"Nicholas held her thighs down to keep her from squirming. His tongue lapped at her clit without stopping. She begged, and begged for - oh!"

The buzzing device is spreading sensation on your clit. You look over the book, and find Mr Park focusing on the space between your legs. He is lazily dragging the wand across your crotch, occasionally pressing into the sensitive bud.

"Keep going," he ordered.

"S-she begged, and begged for more. She had cummed twice on his tongue already. Yet he didn't have enough. He wanted to watch her shake in his arms, beg ‐ ah, ‐ beg for him to stop. Nicholas then inserts his fingers into her, the tips searching for the sweet spot which - f‐fuck - had her groaning with pleasure."

The speed is increased, and your thighs are shaking. You think you're close already.

"I don't think I can handle it much longer." You say.

"I didn't ask."

With that, he increases the speed, this time dragging the toy more forcefully on your crotch. You could spill over the edge at any moment. You want to orgasm with his fingers, not a stupid toy.

"The books isn't going to read itself."

"She held onto his hair for dear life. The pressure was building up at the bottom, and- ah, fuck ‐ and, and-"

"And?"

"I'm going to cum," you cry out.

"I don't remember that being in that scene yet."

"Please-"

"Read."

Your eyes fall back on the words. You just want to lay down and enjoy. Why does he enjoy teasing so much? It's not as fun as it looks or sounds.

"‐and she could feel herself cumming all over his face once again."

You lower the book, just enough so you can look at him. He is focused on his movements. His long, slender fingers are gently pressing your thigh against the wooden surface, while his other hand is working the toy on you. The vibrations change speed and strength, and that's what's keeping you from finishing right in front of him. His tongue wets his lips again, and his lips stay open. He lets out shallow breaths as he watches you clench around nothing.

"Look at you, shamelessly dripping on my work desk." He says, his voice low and raspy. He looks into your eyes, right before he lifts the toy.

He does not break eye contact with you. He climbs on the desk again, spreading your legs with his own and resting his hand on your exposed lower stomach. His hand is hot against your skin. You are ready to give yourself to him in any way.

"You like the book so far?"

"Yes, Sir."

He drags his hand up your stomach, lifting your dress along the way. He takes his sweet time, doing nothing but giving you goosebumps and making your breathing harder. The dress is now scrunched above your breasts, your friend's brand new lingerie completely exposed to his big pupils. It was an ugly colour, but somehow, Mr Park seemed astonished by the view.

"Ah, fuck."

You feel your bra being yanked down, and right after that a warm wet muscle circling over your tense nipples. A gasp leaves your mouth. Then another, and another, with each lick he generously gives you. He squeezes your breasts, massages them, works his tongue on them like it's the most delicious meal in the world. You swear you could orgasm just from this.

Mr Park allows himself to get a bit vocal. He hums around your nipples, gently sucking at them and squeezing the soft flesh around them. He enjoys your squirming under him. He enjoys your moans and gasps. He enjoys your fingers pulling his hair. Most of all, he enjoys how you lift your thighs up and try to meet his crotch, in hopes of getting more relief down there.

He lifts his head from your sensitive breasts, and gets closer to your face. His breathing is heavy against your mouth, and you can almost feel his heart thumping against your chest.

"Tell me, what is your favorite scene from the book?"

"What?" You ask, confused as to why he is insisting on reading and talking about the book.

"You heard me," he speaks into your mouth. He is so close, yet he doesn't dare touch your lips. It's making you extremely frustrating. You wanted to taste the lips that spoke sinful words. You want all of him.

"Well, I kinda liked the first time he fingered her."

"Did you now?" He acts interested. His eyebrow is raised with amusement because of your utter confusion.

"Yeah, I mean, it was hot as fuck. Him fingering her right there in the corner of the club? I swear I'd — oh."

His finger dips inside of you with ease. Your walls swallow it, clench around it, and feel warm against it. Mr Park is lets out a groan. Still, he continues, still looking into your eyes. "What exactly did he do?"

"He made out with her. And fingered her."

"That's all?"

His finger is not moving. It sits there comfortably, enjoying the warmth of your pussy. He licks his lips for the third time that night. He is fighting every urge inside him to just slam his cock into you and ruin you on the table. He wants to enjoy everything you want to give him.

"H-he—" your eyes roll back as he gently presses his finger upwards, "he uses one finger first, to get her used to it. He fingers her slow, and- and‐"

The man slowly pulls out, then equally slowly goes back in. He repeats the motion, and each time it seems slower to you. It is more intense, but you don't think you have the patience.

"He inserts another finger, to stretch her out. He speeds up a bit, and asks her- ah, fuck, asks her if it feels good."

Mr Park leans into your ear. "Does it feel good?"

"Oh, fuck yes."

You feel another finger stretching you our, then another. He watches as his fingers disappear between your tight walls, preparing you so well for him. He speeds up his pace. The sounds of his palm slamming against your pelvis along with your cunt making wet noises is making you arch your back from the table. You shamelessly moan into his mouth, hands grabbing at his shoulders, hair, face, anything.

You are pulled away from the world of ecstasy. You find yourself sitting up straight, your wrists caught in his hand. You are ready to whine about being so close, yet he stops you by pulling you off the desk. The dress falls down your body, covering it once again. The man pulls you off the table, and in a split second, he has you slammed against the bookshelves. You are ready to complain, but he stops you by slamming his palms against the shelves near your head. He looks at you, as if asking if you still want it. You respond by getting closer to him, testing the waters. He doesn't pull away. Instead, he captures your lips with his, hungrily sucking on them and biting them. His tongue is gentle against yours, giving it light strokes and circles. Your fingers find themselves tangled into his hair, then down his neck, shoulders, until they finally rest on his chest. He stops your hands from unbuttoning his snow white shirt. He pulls away too quickly for your liking.

You stare with surprise as he drops down on his knees. Fuck, you love the way he looks at you from down there. His fingers graze the skin of your thighs, then gently lift up the dress.

"Hold that for me." He orders in a whisper. You quickly obey, grabbing the material and holding it above your lower stomach. "Then what happened?"

"The guy took her outside, behind the club. He made her stand against the wall, much like me now. And then—"

You now realise what he is doing. He is recreating the scenes you have just read. He is fulfilling your fantasy. He is doing just what you always wanted, and he doesn't even know it. A sudden boost of confidence enters your body. You could drop a few lines that weren't in the book. He wouldn't notice now, would je?

"He ate her out."

"Did he?" He asks, voice dripping with horny thoughts said out loud. "And just how did he do that?"

"He licked every inch of her skin, explored every curve and bump, and sucked on a specific spot."

The man smirks, then pokes his tongue out. You finally get a chance to see exactly how long it is. He licks a warm stripe over your folds and clit. Your knees are wobbly, and you wish you could've stayed sat down. His hands are gripping you thighs, buttocks, and the back of your knees. He is fully focused into absolutely ravishing you.

He mercilessly licks your clit, each swipe making you more sensitive. He works it up and down, then in circles, then flattens the wet muscle so that he can take in all of you. He makes lewd noises, almost slurping at your arousal and folds.

"So heavenly," he groans. He hums as he speeds up his tongue against your clit.

Short moans leave your mouth, and you find yourself gripping your nipples over the shiny fabric. You pull and squeeze his hair between your finger, and you think you'll choke him with your thighs. He doesn't complain once.

"I'm close—" you whimper, white dots already appearing in front of your eyes.

It was as if you said "stop". He stands up, hand resting on your jaw. He lifts your head to look at him. His lips are glistening with your arousal, and you think it's the hottest thing ever. He dips his thumb and index finger into your cheeks, making you hollow them and open your mouth. He leans in, and just when you think he is about to kiss you, two fingers find themselves resting on your tongue. He proceeds to push them back, right at the end of your tongue. You tear up, but don't gag. He is very distracting with his stare.

You close your lips around his fingers, tongue circling around them and wetting them. He takes them out, puts them in his own mouth. He steps back for a bit, and you carefully follow his every movement. He rips the fabric of his shirt, and buttons drop down on the floor. The sight has you dripping down your legs. You don't get a chance to say much, he pushes you against the desk, this time with you facing the surface. You feel the wet digits spread your folds. You then feel a wet trail rolling down your pussy.

Did he—? Did he spit directly on your pussy?

You hear the belt unbuckling, then fabric shuffling. Something hot touches your other cheeks, gently caressing them and leaving a trail of precum. His hand reaches near you, taking the book and opening it where you marked it. It then cups your neck, gently pressing the sides of it just enough to make you dizzy.

"Read for me, doll."

"But-"

He leans down, feeling a bit annoyed at all your protests. "Read for me so I can stuff you with my cock in peace."

You have no other choice but to continue. You feel him circling your folds, but not touching you where you need it.

"Nicholas couldn't believe how long it had been since he last felt her. He pounded into her like there was no tomorrow. His hips forcefully connected with hers— ah!"

You feel him stretch you out. The sweet burning sensation is back, this time actually pleasant. He fills you to the end, hands tightly holding onto your waist and neck. He pulls out, just to slam back into you, much like Nicholas.

"He watched her tits bounce with every hip thrust he m-made, a sight for sore eyes. He fondled her nipples, listened to her moans and watched her face twist wit-th pleasure—"

His hands move your body towards him, making him reach spots that have you gripping the edge of the desk.

"Please let me enjoy this, Mr Park. Oh please, let me."

He pulls your hair, making your back arch and your head fall back. He looks at you from above, hips still working their pace.

"You're saying you're not", thrust, "enjoying this?"

"No, I just—"

"I spoiled you," thrust, "in such a," thrust, "short," thrust, "time."

He proceeds to thrust a few times faster, then slows down. He fucks you nice and gentle, occasionally letting out a grunt or a hiss. He goes deep, making you roll your eyes.

"Look at me," he pulls your hair more.

You whimper, the pleasant pain spreading over your body.

"Look at your pretty makeup running down your cheeks."

He wasn't lying when he said he is going to ruin you. He turns your body over with ease, and you wonder just how strong this man is. Mr Park lifts your legs on his shoulders, the position giving him more access to all the sweet spots. He slams into them with no mercy, abuses every weak spot you have, and fills your mouth with his fingers to keep you quiet. They don't help much, since you are equally loud even when he tries to make you gag.

"Want me to fill you up like a stuffed toy?"

"Please," you manage to beg.

Your eyes roll back from pleasure, and you are feeling like you're floating. You are so close, and if he cums inside you, you will cum right then. Mr Park is now moaning. His hands are gripping your waist, slamming your weaker body into his hips. Sweat is decorating his exposed body, and his hair is sticking up everywhere. Watching him focus on chasing his high is something you'll always remember with love. He is progressively getting sloppier and louder, and you just can't wait to see him cum.

You are squeezing and milking him so well, he could go all night long with you. He lets out a prolonged moan as he spills into you, hips still working in and out. You follow after, the feeling of warm seed touching the right places.

"Fuck—" you moan, moving your hips and riding out your high.

The man drops on top of you, cock still deep inside.

You notice the windows are foggy, and the smell of sex is more than present in the room. You don't want to move. You want more. It just isn't enough.

"Ah fuck, I could go for a second round." He admits.

"I can handle it."

"But I can't so please go to sleep or go fuck outside."

Shit.

#ateez #ateez imagine #ateez smut #kpop smut #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez x you #Seonghwa #park seonghwa smut #park seonghwa #seonghwa x y/n #seonghwa smut #seonghwa x you #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa oneshot #ateez oneshot #ateez x female reader #ateez scenario

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agustdakasuga · 11 months

Text

The Way Of A Criminal: Chapter 1

Genre: Mafia!AU, Criminal!AU, Angst, Romance

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Normal!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Your father was a stranger, you never knew who he was and what he did. But one day, someone knocks on your door, informing you of his passing. Now, you learn more about him, his life and the legacy you are expected to continue with the help of his 7 executives.

Story warning(s): This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed/gore, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking and gambling. This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. Please read at your own discretion.

“My condolences.” Someone wished you solemnly as they stepped up to pay respect. From your position on the straw mat at the side, you only maintained a straight face and bowed to show your gratefulness.

“Your father was a great man.” A lady smiled softly.

“I’m sure he was.” You replied. But her reaction to your statement made you purse your lips. You hadn’t intended to let that comment slip out. You recovered by straightening up and shaking her hand, gesturing to her to the food and beverage table.

Some people excused your attitude as your way of coping and mourning. But those people that knew the truth knew your indifference and emotionlessness was because you didn’t know the man in the coffin.

He was supposed to be your father, it says so on your birth certificate. But it also said so on the divorce papers your late mother had.

To you, he was a stranger.

You had just finished a long call with your classmates to discuss a group project that was coming up. You stretched your stiff arms over your head as you went downstairs to get a drink.

DING DONG

You placed down your mug and went to the front door. There was no reason for anyone to be here. You didn’t order anything recently.

“Yes?” You opened the door to come face to face with a suited male. He was good looking and you could tell how built he was despite his suit and coat covering his body. But you had never seen his face before.

“Nice to meet you, Miss. My name is Kim Namjoon-”

“I’m not really interested in what you’re selling, thank you.” You cut him off, ready to close the door. He held a hand out.

“Apologies, (y/n) sshi. I’m not here to sell you anything.”

“Wait, how do you know my name? I have never met you before.” You frowned, starting to get a little worried and cautious. This man looked like trouble but at the same time, you knew you couldn’t run from him. Where could you run to in your small house? Plus, he looked like he could catch you easily. You just took a step back, shielding more of your body behind your door.

“My name is Kim Namjoon. Unfortunately, I am here to inform you that your father, (y/l/n) (y/f/n), passed away early this morning.” He informed. Your eyes widened as your brain worked to process what he said.

“As his only child, it is only right for you to represent him during the funeral procession.” Namjoon said.

“I-I don’t have a father.”

“I was told that you may react that way. Here, this is for you. I know you never had a relationship with your father but he did think of you often and I know he would want you to be there for his final send off.” He handed you a folder.

“He’s a stranger. I know nothing about him except his name.” You tucked the folder under your arm.

“I understand. Your father did love you and miss you but there were circumstances that prevented him from contacting you all these years.” He gestured to the folder.

“Look, Namjoon sshi, I don’t have the money for a coffin, much less to book a funeral hall. I’m on my own, living off the savings my mother and I earned on our own.” You sighed in defeat.

“Don’t worry about that. My brothers and I have everything handled, as instructed by your father before his passing. All you have to do is be there. We were close but at the end of the day, you’re his only blood born child.” Namjoon said with a small smile.

“You work for him?”

“In a way. I trained and work directly under him.” Namjoon was brief in his explanation. You just stared at him, knowing that he was more than just an employee to your father.

“Have a nice day. I look forward to hearing from you, hopefully.” Namjoon offered you another respectful bow before turning to walk back to his car. You closed the door, leaning against it and heaving a long sigh.

So here you were, greeting people and thanking them for coming to a funeral of a man you didn’t even know. They probably knew him better than you did.

“Namjoon sshi. I’m going for a breather.” You went to the male, who was sitting with 6 other males.

“Sure. Make sure to get some food and drinks too.” Namjoon smiled and patted you on the shoulder. You stiffly nodded and walked out of the funeral hall. You entered the toilet to splash your face with water.

“What am I doing here?” You looked at your reflection.

“Just get this over with and go back to your normal routine.” You told yourself as you left the bathroom. Maybe you didn’t really know how to feel about your father since your mother never talked about him much. All you knew was that they got divorced when you were 2 years old. Were you supposed to resent and hate him? Or be sad that you never got to know him?

“Want one? You look like you need it.” A pale guy offered you a cigarette when you stepped onto the balcony for some fresh air. You recognised him as the stoic looking one in Namjoon’s friend group.

“No, thanks. I don’t smoke.” You shook your head.

“Suit yourself.” He rested his forearms on the banister, lighting his cigarette to take a smoke.

Guess you won’t have much fresh air. You turned around and headed back in. You didn’t have much appetite to eat but you did grab a drink, throat feeling hoarse from greeting people.

“My condolences. It must be hard losing your father. He was a great businessman.” An older man came to shake your hand.

“You worked with my father?” You asked politely.

“Yes, he worked hard to build his company and this legacy. He was hoping that one day, you would take over-”

“Mr Park! Come, help yourself to the food and drinks.” One of Namjoon’s friends whisked the male away before he could finish his sentence. You blinked in confusion, unsure of what was going on. Namjoon led you back to where your post was.

“If you need anything or need someone to take over while you take a break, let me know. My brothers and I can take over temporarily.” Namjoon said.

“Thanks.” You sat back down on the straw mat, making sure that the ends of your hanbok were straight.

“Thank you for coming.” You bowed to those who came to pay respects.

You looked over at Namjoon and his 6 friends who were also tending to guests and speaking to them. They were obviously not real brothers but you could tell how close they were. The guests seemed to know them fairly well.

They were your father’s children more than you were.

“That girl is really his child?”

“He has never mentioned having a child before. Is she just after the inheritance?”

“Look at her. She doesn’t even care or have an ounce of grief knowing her own father has just died. That’s cold hearted.”

Of course, you were a new, unfamiliar face. You heard all the whispered comments that were being made about you. It didn’t help that Namjoon insisted you wear the band of the chief mourner, that itself signified your highest rank in your father’s life. You didn’t blame the gossip, you would find it suspicious too if a child of a deceased only appeared at their funeral.

“The girl can’t possibly be taking over his company, right? I think he would have willed it to Namjoon. He is capable of taking care of the company in his stead.” An older lady said.

“All the boys are capable of taking over the company. They have been trained by him and cared for by him.” The man she was with replied.

“Yes, they can definitely help it to grow to be even more successful.” She giggled lightly.

"We will be having the final rites before moving to the burial site.” The funeral director came. There was a moment of silence as the final rites were performed. The director held out your father’s photo to you.

“I shouldn’t...” You hesitated.

“Please, (y/n) sshi.” The director looked at you with pleading eyes, as if he was scared of anyone else holding the photo. You chewed on your bottom lip, reaching out with shaky hands.

“Thanks.” You whispered, holding the photo in front of you. Namjoon and his 6 brothers stood on either side of the coffin, lifting it up.

“Right this way.” You walked in front, nestling your father’s photo in your hands. As you walked passed, all those in attendance of the funeral bowed their head respectfully. They walked behind the carried coffin. When in front of the hearse, you stepped aside for the boys to load the coffin into the hearse.

“It’s okay, Hobah.” You watched as the smaller, pale man comforted his brother that was crying. Even the tough looking, tattooed one was crying and being comforted by the others. You couldn’t find it in you to shed a tear of feel sad.

The rest was a blur. The ride in the luxury car to the burial site, all the expensive cars riding behind the hearse. You kept to yourself, keeping your head down and not attempting to make any conversation.

“Goodbye.” Was all your uttered as you tossed your flower down onto the descended coffin.

“Thank you for coming.” You stood with the 7 men, bowing as the guests all retreated to their cars to leave the cemetery.

“The company is in your good hands.” The guests all told the 7, mainly ignoring you. You stared at the mound of dirt that would be turned into a nice grave with a headstone soon.

When your mother died, you did everything on your own. There were no visitors, no fancy send off and no one to help you. You had her final rites in the hospital where she passed and paid for her to be buried immediately. Your mother was an amazing woman, she deserved all this as a grand send off, not your father who abandoned you.

“(y/n) sshi.” Someone grasped your arm.

“Taehyung!” Namjoon called out as you yanked your hand away, as if his touch burnt you. The man’s eyes widened at your reaction, he had no ill intentions and even wanted to try to comfort you.

“I’m going home.” You muttered and walked down the path to the road.

“Let us send you home. It would be hard for you to get a bus or cab here.” Namjoon offered. You nodded your head and sat in the car.

“(y/n) sshi, can we pick you up some food before dropping you home? You barely ate at the funeral home.” The one that sat in the passenger seat of the car you were in asked.

“No thanks. I just want to go home.” You requested.

“Of course.”

The car pulled up in front of your small, two storey house. You stepped out and looking up at the house.

“Before you go, (y/n) sshi. This is for you.” You were handed a thick envelope. You didn’t need to open it to know that it was money inside. Probably all the money from the funeral visitors.

“Keep it. It’s not my money. You guys paid for everything so split it amongst you all or whatever.” You held it back out for them to take.

“You’re your father’s child, you should be the one to have it-”

“Look, let’s just stop. The man that was just buried is not my father. The day he left my mother and I, he stopped being my father. To me, he’s just a stranger that I’d rather not know about. I couldn’t cry for him like you could, I feel nothing for him.” You sighed.

“If he wanted me to know him, he had all these years to come back. I wouldn’t have to see my mother shoulder everything on her own because he was prideful or selfish.” Your voice wavered at the memory of your mother.

“He regrets that. He hates that he could only be your parent in his death.” Namjoon said gently.

“No, I only have one parent and I already buried her, two years ago.” There was so much bitterness in your voice. You turned away and entered your house, locking the door shut.

Like the day Namjoon came to deliver the news, you sat with your back to the door. You heard the roar of the luxury cars come to life and fade away as they drove off. Finally, your sobs and tears fell freely.

It wasn’t fair that the man that easily upped and left is celebrated while you and your mother were left to fend for yourselves. The only regret you had was not being able to do better for her when she tried her best for you to live life like any other kid. You worked any job that would take you but you still couldn’t buy her lavish gifts for Mother’s Day and her birthdays.

The day your mother collapsed, you had never been the same. You blamed yourself, she collapsed from the exhaustion. Her body was so weak that death came quickly.

When you buried her, you buried your heart with her.

“Ugh.” You got up, going to shower and change out of the mourning hanbok. You placed everything into a paper bag, throwing it into your closet.

“Hi, can I order two soups, please? Yes, two bowls of rice.” You ordered with the nearby restaurant. If you were not cooking, you usually ordered 2-3 portions of food at once, keeping the extras in the fridge to save on delivery fees.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

“Delivery!” You went to the door. The man held out the packets of food to you and you handed him the money.

“Have a nice night.” He bowed and went off on his motorcycle. Just as you were going to close the door, you looked at the envelope on your door step. It was the one with the funeral money. But unlike earlier, there was now writing on one side of it.

‘You don’t have to spend it, you can donate it. The money doesn’t belong to us. If you ever need anything, contact us.’

Stapled to the envelope was a business card. It was white, the company name ‘Bangtan Enterprise and Exchange’ printed in gold font. The other side of the card had one number on it. There was nothing else on it.

“Bangtan...” You read out. You placed the food on the table and put the envelope aside, no intention on using the money.

“Thank you for the food.” You began eating. You had placed your laptop in front of you, some mindless show playing to fill the quiet space with some sort of noise.

‘Dear student,

We would like to extended our deepest condolences to you and your family upon hearing your family member’s demise. As per school protocol, you have been granted 3 days of school leave.

- School administration’

You just saw the email sent to you by your school administration. How did they even know if you didn’t tell them? Plus, you never registered a ‘father’ in your school records. Whatever, now you had 1 extra day. Maybe you could spend the whole day sleeping tomorrow since you have been thrown into this emotional rollercoaster and have not slept for 2 days.

“I’m so full.” When you were done eating, you did the dishes, put the extra food into the refridgerator and went to your room to do some studying.

‘(y/l/n) (y/n)’

You remembered the folder Namjoon gave you when he first arrived at your doorstep. Pulling out your chair and sitting at your small desk, you undid the string and poured all the contents out.

“Omma...” You picked up one of the photos. You were a baby in your mother’s arms, the photo caught the both of you mid laugh.

‘My beautiful girls.’

The handwriting was not your mother’s so you guessed it was your father’s. There were pictures of them together, before your mother was pregnant and some while she was pregnant.

The only one that was carefully wrapped in plastic was one of your father carrying you after you were just born. In the plastic, with the photo, there was a folded letter than fell out. Your name was written on it.

‘My dear (y/n),

If you are reading this letter, it probably means that I am gone. Namjoon and the others have been instructed to give this to you only when I pass. Only because I am a coward that cannot face you and your mother after everything I have done.

I know after so many years, no excuse or reason will ever make up for my absence. I deserve to be hated and resented by you.

(y/n), if I could have been there to witness you growing up into such an amazing person, I would have. I would have given up the world to have you and your mother with me.

But I know I cannot be selfish. I cannot jeopardise your safety and risk putting you and your mother in danger. I’d rather live away from you than to know I am the reason you or your mother get hurt.

Every day, I think about you. How I wish I could speak with you and hug you, tell you I am sorry and that I missed you.

It has not been easy hasn’t it? You and your mother having to fend for yourselves. Your mother is just as tough, not wanting to receive any help from me, wanting to singlehandedly raise you, care for you and put you through school. I am confident that she raised you well, to be just as strong and independent as she was.

I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that though, how amazing of a woman your mother is. I will always love her with all my heart, I’m grateful to have her as my partner and soulmate.

While I may not be there to make up for my absence, if you or your mother ever need help with anything, please contact any of the boys.

To ask you to be there at my funeral was unfair of me, I am just a stranger, you probably barely know what I look like. But please just let me be selfish one last time, I just want to see you one last time before I leave.

I’m sorry, (y/n). I don’t deserve to call myself a parent, much less your father.

- (y/f/n)’

Series Masterlist

Ko-Fi

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just-some-random-blogger · 8 months

Note

riding aemond's magnum dong and "innocently" overstimming him also counts as taming and riding the largest dragon in the world and no one can say otherwise: a fic request ( ͡ ° ͜ʖ ͡ °)

pretty pleaseeee mommy ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀) *gives you many smooches as bribe*

Stop But Please Don't

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: You help your husband relax after a long and irritating day.

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: fem!reader, wife!reader, smut MDNI (pwp, oral [m receiving], over-stim, biting, public sex?, brat!reader?, accidental sub!aemond), otto 'yall burning in hell' hightower, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: this is PWP soooooo dont read it if it makes you uncomfy. NONNIE i hope you still see this its been so long. i love you 💕💕 Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui @lxdyred @delicious-xx

I clasp my hands together, "there's nothing more I can do for you."

The woman before me pulls her head back. If she was hiding her vexation well up until this point, then now, she was not. Celia's face contorts. She grips her skirt and barks my name out.

I release a breath, "I have been most gracious in-"

She scoffs, "you have NOT! I cannot bel-"

"The guards will see you out, Lady Tully."

"Don't you call me that!" she snaps, finger pointed at me accusingly.

I raise my brows. That's your name, is it not? I turn to my guard. He nods and comes up to the woman and escorts her out. She tries to storm over to me, but when her arm is caught and she's reeled to the door, she changes tune, "wait, wait. Hold on. I must- please Lady-"

"I am not a lady," I shake my head, "I am a princess."

Celia whimpers.

I watch as the guard tells her not to make it difficult.

"Your grace! Wait, I-"

The door shuts.

I let out a breath and clutch my side. My poor Aemond. I cannot imagine going through this everyday.

When my guard returns to inform me Lady Tully has been escorted out of the Keep, I thank him and head off to the library. Once there, I am immediately hurtled with a threat to leave or to have my throat slit.

I find a small tinge of amusement crawl up to my cheeks but I take care not to laugh, "many pardons, my prince-"

Aemond, brows knit, jaw clenched, lifts his gaze from his papers.

"- but I feel your punishment," I walk over to him, hands behind my back, "is far too dire."

Aemond immediately huffs and shuts his eye as he leans back on his chair. He clenches his fists and parts his legs. And though he does not look at me while doing this, I knew it was an invitation. It was affirmed with how his hands latched on to my waist after I gathered my skirts and claimed my seat atop his lap.

"Will you still use your dagger on me, husband?" I mutter while my arm snaked over his shoulders.

He leans his forehead on me, "if you'd like."

I chuckle through my nose as he rubs his face against my jaw.

"I'd like to make you feel better, my dragon," I lean back, clutching his chin.

"I have much to do, wife," he complains.

"I know you've been at it since dawn. Will you not spare yourself a break? If not for yourself, for me?"

Aemond opens his eye and purses his lips. He does not respond, save for the way he leans into my touch.

"Lady Tully was here. She thought she could persuade me to amend the order you gave her husband."

His brows tighten all over again.

"I told her I trust the prince's judgement with my life, and his decision regarding the affairs of her husband was borne out of nothing but sense and logic."

He lets out a chuckle.

I raise a brow at that.

"And spite, and irritation," he sinks deeper into his seat.

I tilt my head, "you didn't."

He rubs my side, "I adore that you think so highly of me."

"You made the Tullys submit more resources than needed because of spite and irritation?"

"Because it's only fair that the backstabbing Tullys pay for the wrongs they've done my wife."

I am unable to hold in my chuckle, "Aemond, we've been wed for two years."

"Mmm and I assure you," he mumbles through a pout, "I've only thought of this for one."

I laugh, "you've been thinking of a way to spite my childhood friend, who I've not spoken to longer than we've been wed, for stealing my childhood sweetheart?"

Aemond simply keeps his lips pouted.

"And does that make sense to you, jester?" I let out an amused breath "What did you wish to achieve? Were you hoping I rekindle the flame with Elmo Tully?"

He groans and straightens up, "I was hoping you see your prince is willing to do many and much for his princess."

I huff and shake my head. He adjusts me on his lap and draws me closer. I cannot help the way my lips curve upward, "and, let me guess, you hope to be rewarded for his?"

I retrace the scar on his cheek. He gives a proud look, "it's only fair."

I roll my eyes and sigh, "very well." I pull away and stand before him, "undo your trousers."

Aemond wastes no time and immediately begins to undo his trousers. In return, I then get on my knees and rest my arms on his lap. I lean my cheek on my elbow as I watch his fingers work.

Once he was free, I swat his hands away and take his length in my hand. He is warm and soft but that was about to change.

Aemond curses as he draws out a deep breath. I look up at him as I shift on my knees, "will you be an obedient dragon for me, love?"

He does not respond. I catch the way his jaw clenches. I tighten my grip on him.

He takes my jaw in his hand, "you are rewarding me for being a dutiful groom," he replies, "be a dutiful bride."

I pull away when he tries to bring me close to his hardening cock. I tilt my head up and ghost my thumb on his tip, "no. I won't be doing that."

"Well, I will not be begging for what I am owed," he quickly huffs.

I blink at his words and quickly lick him, "yes you will."

Aemond growls. The next moment, his hand tightens over mine and he yanks me by my hair. Before he can shove himself into my mouth, there is a knock on the door that causes both of us to freeze, and though Aemond screams an even dire threat, making Vhagar sit on whoever it was, whoever it was walked in anyway.

My heart pounds when I hear the deep voice of his grandsire. Aemond pushes me under the table.

"Your mother is in hysterics," Otto rants, "Aegon has blundered with the fucking-"

"I'm busy right now," Aemond snaps, hands not letting up their grip.

Otto is astounded by the sheer disrespect. He stares at the boy across him and steps forward, "what?"

Aemond shifts on his seat. His hands depart from me. He waves to his desk, "I'm balancing the accounts, grandsire."

I bite my lip at the evidently displeased sound Otto makes, feeling my body grow rigid with dread. I look over my shoulder and wonder if I should pretend I dropped something and quickly stand, but then I realize there was quite a lot of objects blocking me from Lord Hightower. I look up at Aemond and the devil whispers in my ear. I find myself wrapping my lips around him.

Aemond visibly gulps as Otto shifts on his spot and says, "do you think the fucking accounts of the Keep matter if your brother destroys everything I've put in place?"

Aemond is about to respond but he doesn't when I sink down on him. I take care not to make a sound as bob up and down. He clenches the arm rest, nails digging into the wood. He releases a shaky breath, "no."

Otto narrows his eyes. He raises his voice, "what, boy?"

I swirl my tongue around him.

He tenses.

I gently graze my teeth around him.

He holds back a whimper and says a bit too loudly, "no, my lord!"

Otto is satisfied.

He begins to drone about what he expects Aemond to do. I hear him begin to pace around.

The next moment, I nearly choke when Aemond pushes forward. The chair skids, as does the table when he drags it closer. Otto goes silent. Aemond mutters in an impressively steady manner, "I'm writing it down, grandsire."

It takes a moment for him to reply, "very good."

And so for a few minutes, he walks and talks, meticulously explaining what his grandson ought to do, all while I was beginning to drool so much that my hand was getting sticky as I pumped him.

Aemond flinches at some point. He's unable to mask his sounds. Otto goes silent again, and once more, my husband impresses with a save, "f-fucking Aegon."

Otto releases a breath, as if agreeing, "I am counting on you to do this, Aemond."

He inhales deeply then sighs, "yes."

The man nods then heads for the door, "I will have a horse ready for you."

Aemond hums.

The moment the door closes, I pull away and crawl out, panting as I did so. Aemond finally releases a sound and I watch the heaving of his chest. I cannot help but chuckle. I push his chair back and take his chin in my fingers, "what a good boy you were."

He turns to me, still too relieved to not have been caught to say a word.

"How sweet and silent," I rub his lips with my thumb as I hike my skirt up.

Whatever he meant to say gets lost in his throat when I pull my smallclothes off and climb on his lap. I sigh as I sink down on him. He muffles his sounds by biting his lips.

I click my tongue and shake my head. My hands latch on his firm shoulders as I begin to slowly move, "don't be shy, whimper for me."

"Fuck," his hands grab my waist. His nostrils flare, "I'm not going to last--"

"Shhhh," I press a finger to his lips, "I said whimper, not whine."

Aemond lets out a guttural sound as his head falls onto my décolletage. He pants onto my skin as I pick up the pace.

I kiss his head, "peak if you must, my love."

He pulls me flush against him and drops his head back. He breathes through his open mouth and makes the loveliest sounds.

The corner of my lips pull up in amusement, "such a sweet thing."

He groans my name, a warning of his impending climax.

I gently push two fingers into his mouth. Aemond obediently wraps his lips around them, "do you want to finish inside, darling?"

He nods his head and swirls his tongue around my fingers.

"Then you have to let me use you until I peak also."

Aemond's eye widens.

I pull my fingers out of his mouth. I stop bouncing on him. He whines again.

"What was that, pretty love?" I coo as I tuck hair behind his ear.

He clenches his jaw and looks away, debating my words. When he takes too long, I clench around him and move once.

"Mmm, fuck- fine," he tightens his hold on my hips, "fine, fine, use me how you want."

"Are you certain, darling?" I buck my hips.

He sighs heavily, "yes. Yes, please."

I begin to pepper kisses all over his face and move once more. I begin to draw circles on my nub, "what a sweetheart."

Aemond feels his body flush. He releases a strangled breath, closes his eyes, and pulls me into an embrace.

As my movements hasten, I look down on him and cup his cheek. My stomach rolls when I see how red his face has become. I moan, "do you like my praises, darling boy?"

"Fuck-" his arms tighten around me.

"Like it when I tell you how good you are while making you feel good?"

He lets out the shakiest yes I've ever heard. He drools out, "w-anna be good t-to you."

I squeal, "you are."

Aemond breaks into a groan after. He spills into curse words and moans. I feel him pulsing and panting. He cages me in his arms so tight I can barely move or breathe. I whimper as I let him ride out his high.

"That's right," I kiss his temple, "such a dear, my loveling."

Eventually, his grip loosens and he begins to quiver.

"Shh, shh, shh," I soothe, "a little bit more," I continue to attend to my sensitive spot and building high, "you can take a little bit more, can you not?"

He whines, "n- nn- fuck."

I trail kisses up his neck and cheek, "come on, Aemond. Just a bit more."

Aemond feels a tension build in his loins, a paralyzing kind. He leans his head back in defeat and brings his hands under my skirt. He grips my thighs for dear life and speaks my name as a plea.

"I know, my dragon," kiss his forehead, "I'm almost there. Mmm, just k-keep doing that."

Aemond butts into my shoulder then begins to bite into my skin. His teeth sink quite hard, and yet I do not find myself to care as it helps push me further into the edge.

He tightens his grip on me when I begin to grow erratic.

My finger scratch into his nape.

"P-please, fuck- please." Aemond begs. He feels tears lace his lashes as he screws his eyes shut.

I do not respond as I am too busy trying to lose myself. And when I finally come undone, I am unsure which of us is more relieved.

I feel my husband scratch my thighs as I stretch out the blissful eruption that spreads through me. I call out his name as draw out allt the pleasure I can get. Once I'm done, he curses and relaxes against the chair. I slowly melt on him and catch my breath against his ear. I nip his lobe and kiss him, "an excellent job, my dutiful husband."

He grumbles and huffs.

The next moment, he's pushing me off him.

I whine and wrap myself on him, "no!"

"Who's whining now?"

"A few minutes, please!"

"No," he snaps, hands going back to my waist to pry me off, "you heard my grandsire. I must remedy the insolence of my dimwitted brother."

"But I love you," I nuzzle in his neck.

"Well, I don't."

I tighten my hold on him when he says this and does not relent. I manage to pull back and throw him a glare.

Aemond sighs and ceases repelling me.

"Take that back," I warn.

He presses his lips together.

"Don't bully me, sweet boy," I mimic his expression but bat my lashes too.

He makes another sound and rolls his eyes.

"Tell me you love me!"

"I don't."

"Aemo-"

"I love you very much."

"..."

My expression melts into disbelief.

A ghost of a smirk plays on his lips.

I promptly begin to pull away, "well, that was rather repulsive."

"Oh," he barks in offense and prevents me from getting off him, "when I do it, it's repulsive?!"

I shove him by his chest, "that's because you don't say things like that."

"And what the fuck am I supposed to s-"

We whip our heads back when the door opens and Otto Hightower walks in.

#aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond smut #aemond fluff #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you

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ihavemanyhusbands · 8 months

Text

The Black Kaiser's Nightmare

Duncan Vizla x Assassin!FemReader

A/N: Shout out to beelmons and G for their endless support and help with my fics <3 :') where would I be without y'all?

Summary: You run into your long-time nemesis in the last place you ever expected, but things take a turn for the worst when you find yourself stuck with him during a snowstorm.

WC: 7.2k words

Warnings: SMUT! (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), enemies to lovers speedrun into the bed, mentions and depictions of violence, fighting, accidental assassination of a third party, some serious bickering, abundant cursing, rough sex (unprotected, don't do it at home!), choking, very light knifeplay, dirty talk, slight degradation mixed with some praise, rampant sexual tension, ooey gooey lovesick fools who are just SO SO STUBBORN, I think that's it but lmk if I missed anything!

You are responsible for your own media consumption!

----

Triple Oak, Montana.

It’d been a while since you’d last found yourself in such a quaint little town, especially in the middle of winter, but you supposed you’d been in way worse places. It was barely even on the map, which made it a convenient place to lay low.

You didn’t have to worry about interacting with many people, and you sure as hell didn’t think you’d encounter anyone you knew. At least for the time being, you felt like you could relax just a little bit while you made plans.

In a few more days, you’d continue driving north and cross the Canadian border into Saskatchewan, where you were meant to carry out your next assignment. Your target was a skeevy arms dealer that had to move his whole operation out of Serbia and was now shacked up somewhere in the vast prairies.

You’d been tracking his activity for some time, slowly narrowing down the list of possible locations. You’d also scored some insider information about a big upcoming transaction with a terrorist cell, and your goal was to get to him before the sale was finalized.

Successfully eliminating him would pay handsomely, and you were already planning on a months-long vacation in which you’d go fully off the radar. Preferably somewhere by the beach, where you didn’t feel the constant threat of frostbite.

You pulled into a small gas station — the only one to be found in a long stretch of the highway between the town and more secluded cabins — and occupied one of the three measly pumps. There was only one other old pickup truck next to you, but the owner was nowhere to be seen.

You blew hot air into your hands as you walked into the convenience store, eager for some coffee despite how shitty it was.

“Hey Lou,” you said to the now familiar attendant, the little bell above the door ringing as you pushed in. “How’s it goin’?”

“Eh, slow, the usual,” he shrugged. “At least it’s decently warm in ‘ere. They say there’s gonna be a snowstorm over the weekend, starting tonight.”

“Shit, really?” You groaned, not only because you loathed the freezing temperatures, but because it would set you back by a few more days.

“Yup, perfect time to cozy up with the missus back at home.”

You poured yourself a large cup of black coffee and snapped the lid on top. On the way back to the register, you grabbed a couple of magazines and a pack of Ding-Dongs to eat on the road.

“Well, lucky you,” you said, putting everything on the counter. “I gotta find ways to keep myself busy and warm in case I lose power.”

As you spoke, the door to the restroom opened behind you and a tall, rugged-looking man stepped out. His eyes instinctively flickered between the two of you, even if he couldn’t see your face. He lingered close to the back, trying not to bring attention to himself.

“You sure you’ll be good all by yourself out there?” Lou asked. “Enough supplies and all?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself,” you said, fishing cash out of your wallet. “Give me thirty on number two, also.”

“You got it, tough gal.”

You chuckled as he rang you up, glancing outside. The man behind you tensed, gripped with the dread that came with sudden recognition. Your voice was one he knew well, the very same one he’d heard all seventeen times he’d almost died. Well, eighteen if he counted that one brief altercation in Belfast.

And that laugh… How many times had it been directed at him? Taunting him, teasing him, driving him utterly mad.

It was perhaps the only thing that stopped him from actually getting rid of you that one night you slept so soundly at some shoddy little hotel in Madrid. He’d watched your chest's steady rise and fall from his spot in the darkness, and he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

And now he’d most likely have to pay for the consequences of his mercy.

Lou looked over your shoulder at him, but you didn’t immediately notice since you were absently flipping through one of the magazines.

“Need anything else, Duncan?” He offered. “Pack of Winstons?”

Your skin prickled at these two very familiar details, but you didn’t move, still staring down at the magazine without actually reading. It was probably a mere coincidence. Really, there had to be dozens of Duncans in the world that just so happened to smoke Winstons.

But then, a very particular smell reached your nose — cheap cologne you didn’t know the name of, with strikingly bitter notes that had flooded your nostrils when his hands were tightly wrapped around your neck.

You glanced up at the fisheye mirror above the register… and there he fucking was, in all his deadly glory. The Black Kaiser himself.

You couldn’t help an amused huff, especially after hearing the faintest rustle of a knife being unsheathed under his coat.

“Are you sure you want to stab me with that, old man?” You said slowly over your shoulder.

“Less impersonal than a gun. I owe you that much, don’t I?” he said with that deep, gravelly voice of his that always made a stubborn tingle form at the base of your spine.

Your hand just barely inched towards the hidden holster of your gun. “Oh, but you know I get a little crazy when the knives come out.”

Lou looked between the two of you, confusion and a tinge of fear in his eyes.

“Uh, you two know each oth—”

Before he could finish his sentence, you whirled around and shot Duncan’s head. He ducked, but not before hurling a large knife at you in return. You dove out of the way, hearing it whizz right past your ear, and it sank into Lou’s forehead with a wet thud. His body slumped behind the counter, blood spraying over the stuff you’d intended to buy.

“Hey!” You yelled from your hiding spot. “I didn’t even get my change back!”

“You’re not gonna need it anymore,” he said gruffly, his voice not too far from you. “But before that… want to tell me what the fuck you’re doing here?”

“I could ask you the same,” you said, glancing up at the fisheye mirror once more.

Unfortunately for you, you couldn’t get a very good look at where he was, but you couldn’t stay put. You slowly began to inch to the end of the aisle, staying low. “Let me guess, you missed me so much these last three years that you decided to hunt me down.”

He scoffed. “Three years was not nearly long enough time away from you.”

You dove around the corner to the next aisle, but he wasn’t there. You started pulling yourself forward, but suddenly you were flipped onto your back. You were about to whip your gun around, but it was harshly knocked out of your grasp, sliding against the linoleum. You thrashed against the weight that pressed down on you, but he pinned your hands down beside your head.

“Who sent you?” He asked.

“No one sent me, you paranoid geezer!” You sneered, driving your knee up full force right into his crotch. “Not everything’s about you.”

He growled at the pain, swaying to the side, his grip on your hands relaxing. You pushed him off of you, scrambling to get to your gun. Right as you managed to get a hold of it, he was on you again, pulling you back by the legs. You tried twisting around all the way, firing another shot semi-blindly. It narrowly missed his shoulder, shattering one of the windows.

“Can’t kill me without paralyzing me, eh, little Nightmare?” He taunted.

“Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

You swallowed a scream as he stepped on the hand you held your weapon with, his heavy boot cracking your wrist. Your fingers splayed involuntarily due to the pain, and he bent down to take the gun. He kept it pointed at you as he removed his boot from your wrist and grabbed your arm.

“You’re coming with me,” he stated, starting to pull you up.

“Like hell I am!” You spat, but you froze as you felt the barrel pressed against the back of your head.

“You were saying?”

He dragged you to your feet, leading you through the broken window, glass crunching under your boots. The wind seemed icier than it had been when you first arrived, which made you remember Lou’s warning about a snowstorm.

There was no way in hell you’d be stuck with him during it, so you’d have to find a way to weasel out of his grasp… and kill him in the process.

He led you towards his truck, but you pretended to trip at the last second, bending down and retrieving a knife you had hidden in your boot. You stabbed backward, aiming for his femoral artery, but he moved and the knife stabbed into his thigh muscle instead.

“Motherfucker,” he hissed through clenched teeth, but he didn’t let go of you, tightening his grip on your arm. He fired off a warning shot into the air, which made you flinch a little. “Try me again and I won’t hesitate to put the next bullet through your thick fucking skull. I only have so much patience.”

He shoved you into the passenger seat of the truck, managing to tie you up with the seatbelt. Your bound hands were still slick with his blood, and you smiled triumphantly at him as he slid into the driver’s seat, immediately peeling out of the gas station.

“This is what gets you hard, isn’t it?” you said, raising an eyebrow at him. “You’re kind of a sick fuck, old man… but I didn’t expect any better from you.”

He said nothing, instead momentarily glaring at you. He grunted as he pulled the knife out of his leg, tossing it out of the window. You grumbled about him owing you a knife, but he continued to ignore you. He drove mostly in silence, winding through the icy roads as he gripped his wounded leg with one hand.

So far, it had been one of your tamest encounters. Really, it had all sort of felt like a game, but neither of you had won quite yet. After all, a game such as this could not be left unfinished.

Usually, the circumstances were vastly different. Your respective agencies had assigned you the same target a couple of times, and it always turned into a competition on who would finish the job first. As it turned out, the two of you were very competitive.

You’d left plenty of souvenirs on each other every single time you crossed paths – broken bones, an assortment of scars, and bruises as dark as the midnight sky. You wondered vaguely how much more damage you might make by the end of the day.

Why neither of you had succeeded in killing each other was… a bit of a mystery. Maybe he saw something in you that reminded him of himself, or perhaps he was growing soft with age. He would never admit it, but he’d had plenty of fun in this deadly dance with you so far, and it seemed a shame to let it come to its conclusion so soon.

He’d have to do it though, after some thorough interrogation.

Soon enough, he pulled up a long gravel road hidden among the tall pine trees. In the clearing ahead, you saw what you supposed was his cabin. It was modestly sized and a little dilapidated, but at least it seemed to be sturdy enough to withstand harsh conditions.

“Nice place,” you said sarcastically. “I don’t suppose you have many visitors?”

“Rarely,” he said without looking at you. “I like the quiet. No one’s going to bother us here.”

“You mean no one’s gonna come running when you scream?”

He grunted, readjusting his position in his seat. You were mostly tied up at the arms so your legs had some room to move. Rookie mistake on his part, which you would definitely take advantage of.

Before he could pull up in front of the actual cabin, you leaned back and kicked at the steering wheel. The truck swerved to the right, throwing you against the window. He tried to correct it on time, slamming on the brakes, but the snow made it careen right into a tree.

It wasn’t a tremendous crash, but the windshield still broke, glass raining down on both of you. You were both disoriented for a moment from the whiplash, but then you began to untangle yourself from the seatbelt. You kicked at him when he tried to reach for you, but he managed to pin your legs down.

“Can’t you stay put for one fucking second!?” He growled, fully bracketing you between his sturdy legs as he freed you from the seatbelt.

You panted heavily, trying to thrash beneath him, but he only pressed his legs tighter against your sides. A small, high-pitched whine escaped your lips as you felt the air being squeezed out of you, and you stopped moving.

“Satis…fied?” You managed between gasps.

“Not nearly,” he said, grabbing a fistful of your hair as he pulled back. “Come here.”

He kept a firm grip on it as he dragged you out of the truck and towards the cabin. He wobbled a little with each step, his leg still bleeding some.

“I warned you about the knives,” you said. “Even if you didn’t let me finish having fun.”

He chuckled sardonically. “No, you’re mistaken. The fun is only just beginning.”

He led you inside and locked the door behind him, making you sit down on a rickety chair. He bound your hands and feet with duct tape, wrapping some of it around your torso and the back of the chair for good measure. You decided not to struggle for the time being and instead ponder on your next move, covertly glancing at your surroundings for anything useful.

When Duncan was sure you wouldn’t be able to bolt, he went to grab something from an adjacent room, returning with his version of a first aid kit and a bottle of vodka. He looked at you from the corner of his eye as he undid his pants and lowered them to his knees.

“I didn’t realize it was that kind of fun,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

Still, your gaze was drawn to his crotch first before trailing further down to the injury you’d caused. Rolling his eyes, he plopped down on the bed, which creaked a little under his weight.

He took a long swig of vodka and then poured some on the bleeding gash, hissing through his teeth. Your expression of slight amusement didn’t change as he glanced at you once more, taking out a needle and thread.

“I have to be careful about infections, who knows where that knife of yours has been?” he said.

You merely watched as he began stitching himself up without so much as a grimace. His breathing was slow and steady as he concentrated, and you found yourself entranced by the precise movements of his hands.

An obscene thought about those hands wriggled into your mind, but you immediately pushed it away. It was all the more reason for you to get the hell out of there, especially now that his pants were down.

As he was finishing his stitches, you leaned forward onto your tiptoes and then threw yourself back as hard as you could. The chair broke apart under you, the force of the blow and the angle in which you fell spraining one of your wrists. The adrenaline made you barely register the pain, and you quickly wriggled out of the tape wrapped around you.

You pulled a Swiss army knife out of your boot and hastily sawed off the tape binding your ankles. He swore as you stood, lifting your arms and slamming them down to free your hands. You stumbled towards the front door and yanked it open.

Outside, the wind howled ferociously and a thick flurry of snow limited your vision of your surroundings. You felt the unforgiving cold slicing through you as you hesitated, knowing deep down that your chances of survival were very slim.

Still, you were reckless enough to try and brave it. You started towards the steps when you were yanked back once more, your back pinned against the wall and Duncan’s hand around your throat.

“You just don’t fucking learn, do you?” He growled.

“You only caught me because I hesitated, old man.”

His grip tightened a little in warning. “Didn’t anybody teach you never to hesitate?”

“There is a very fine line between foolishness and courage, you know…” The corners of your mouth twitched, an amused gleam in your eye. “I wonder how often you cross from one side to the other.”

He clenched his teeth and an absolutely devious, cheshire cat grin spread across your face. The mere sight of it made his blood boil with both rage and arousal, and he felt it flowing southward. Your back instinctually arched towards him, as if you could somehow sense the sudden influx of violent desire, and became infected by it.

You stared at each other for a charged moment before he suddenly fell upon you, intent on devouring you. His lips clashed with yours in a fierce kiss and you buried your fingers in his hair, tugging at it as you retaliated.

You bit his lower lip hard, making him groan into your mouth. You used this opportunity to slide your tongue against his, and he moved the hand that had been around your neck toward your jaw. Without thinking, you pressed harder against him, your fingers about to slide under the hem of his sweater.

He clasped your wrist to stop you, assuming you were reaching for some hidden weapon. You whimpered slightly, painfully reminded that it was in fact sprained. He pulled back to look at you, both of you panting heavily and still clutching each other tightly.

“I fear that line was blurred a long time ago, and I suspect it’s the same case with you,” He murmured.

His words broke through your daze and you immediately pushed him away from you, cradling your injured hand against your chest. A maelstrom of emotions roiled inside of you, predominantly confusion and a worrisome throb between your legs.

“And what now?” You asked, glancing out of the window. “It’s clear neither of us are going anywhere any time soon.”

“Now we weather the storm,” he said, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“No, seriously.”

“I am being serious.”

You huffed in annoyance, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I… can’t believe I’m asking this right now but, maybe we can… put the killing each other thing on hold for a few days?”

“So you were coming for me.”

“No! I wasn’t!” You threw your hands up exasperatedly. “Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but I have work further up north. This was just a pit stop.”

He assessed you for a moment, trying to find any clues that you were lying. You stood your ground, keeping your eyes on his face. He sniffed, leaning against the wall to get his weight off his injured leg.

“I’m fine with a temporary truce, but only if we both keep our weapons in plain sight at all times.”

“I am a weapon myself, big boy.”

“So am I. I suppose we’ll have to keep an eye on each other as well, then.”

“Fine,” you huffed, stomping to the couch and pulling it over to the kitchen. “I’ll stay on this side of the cabin, you can stay on the other side.”

“What!? This is my house!” He scoffed.

“Yeah, well, I’m being generous by letting you keep your bed. Not to mention, your life.”

He rolled his eyes, limping back over to his bed. “Whatever you say. Now, can I please fix my stitches in peace for one fucking second?”

———————

There was no sleep for the entirety of the first night.

The cabin creaked and groaned, straining against the disastrously strong wind. Your breaths fogged up in the air as you shivered under the thin blanket Duncan had given you. The cold seemed to seep into your very bones as if punishing you for your decisions. To distract yourself from the chill, you kept an eye on his prone form across the room, knowing well he wasn’t sleeping either.

When dawn broke, a thin grayish light filtered into the room. The storm raged on and all you wanted to do was doze off, but you were still on edge. You clenched your jaw to keep your teeth from chattering, irritated by a headache. Your mood didn’t get any better when Duncan rose from his bed, crossing towards the kitchen.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You inquired, not moving an inch.

He stopped in his tracks. “I’m hungry. Don’t you want to eat?”

Your stomach growled in answer and he lifted an eyebrow in slight amusement. You unwillingly threw the blanket off of you, getting up with an annoyed grunt.

“I’ll give you the food. Let’s see what you’ve got,” you said, rummaging through the cabinets.

“I could just show you…”

“No, stay on your side. Even better, why don’t you go sit back down on your bed?”

He followed orders, not really wanting to start quarreling with you so early in the morning. You finally found some oatmeal packets in one of the cupboards, and you took out a few and poured them into a pot along with some water. You left it to boil over the stove top, crossing your arms over your chest and turning to face him.

“How’s your leg doing, anyway?” You asked.

“Fine. Why do you care?”

“I really don’t.”

He chuckled. “Good thing you’re a better assassin than you are a liar.”

You sighed deeply. “Well, it is your house, I should at least have some manners.”

He scoffed, still amused. “We are way past manners. Our only courtesy to each other would be a painless death.”

“Oh, really? Painless?” You arched an eyebrow. “Did you forget Lisbon? And that grenade launcher you stole?”

“Okay, well, I wasn’t technically aiming at you. You just happened to be in the way,” He argued. “And it’s not like you haven’t given me the same sort of treatment…”

You shrugged one shoulder. “It’s only fair.”

The two of you lapsed into silence as you turned your attention back to the pot. Once the oatmeal was ready, you spooned it into two bowls and walked to the invisible line that divided the cabin in two.

He got up and met you there, reaching slowly for his bowl so as not to seem threatening. Not that you were viewing him that way, anyway. At least not in the clearly exhausted state he was in.

“Careful, it’s hot,” you said. “Need me to blow on it first?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, resisting the lure of your impish grin. He figured it was perhaps the more masochistic part of him that made him so drawn to you. Always pushing him, testing him, keeping him on the edge. He would never admit it to himself — much less to you — but it made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t for a really long time.

He muttered a quick thank you before heading back to his side of the room, plopping down on the bed and immediately digging in. If he burned his mouth, he showed no indication of it, but you still huffed in amusement.

When he was done, he said nothing as he lied down, his back to you once again. A little confused and wary, you watched him as you slowly ate. Soon enough, his breath evened out into a steady rhythm, and you assumed he’d fallen asleep.

You glanced over at the dining table, where the two of you had laid out all your weapons, and considered them for a long moment.

It seemed too easy to have such a window of opportunity. Normally, you’d have jumped at any such chance, but once more, you hesitated. Not out of any sort of newfound benevolence, but something deeper than that. Something that had been gnawing at you since the previous night.

In the end, you opted not to do anything. Surely, it was bound to be a mistake to not have killed him at that moment. But that would be a problem for another day, perhaps when the storm was over.

You sat down on the floor by the foot of the couch, back resting against the frame. Sleep deprivation was starting to hit you as well, and you knew that if you were to lay down you would certainly fall asleep. Instead, your eyes focused on the suspiciously peaceful sight of Duncan sleeping.

The longer you stared, the blurrier the lines seemed to get. Literally. His broad form was smudged into a single sphere, and without much thought about it, everything suddenly went black.

Until… Shit.

How long were you asleep?

It had been long since you’d last awakened to a man in front of you, let alone holding a knife to your face. The blade shone in your half-open eyes, reflecting the setting sun outside the window. You must have been unconscious for over two hours. Stupid, so very stupid.

You blinked the haze of sleep out of your eyes and followed the glint to his fingers, his forearm, up his broad chest and shoulders, until it finally landed on his face.

“So, the game ends at last, huh?” you muttered, your gaze not wavering from his.

“Could’ve ended long ago, but it didn’t,” he said, once again looking every bit the coldhearted killer he was. You could still see, however, the presence of doubt in his dark eyes. “Why didn’t you kill me?”

“I knew you weren’t actually sleeping…”

“Even so,” he pressed, straightening to his full, imposing height. “You didn’t even try. Why?”

You blinked, not really having an answer, not one that would satisfy him at least. What's more, you had a set of questions of your own, ones that would likely also have no answer.

The words slipped before you could even think about them. “Why did you kiss me?”

Silence hung between you like a heavy drape. You were cornered in more than one sense. Windows for precaution and escape had long since closed, maybe even since the moment you ran into him in that little gas station. And through hardships, you learned that if there’s no way back, the only way is forward.

The wound in his thigh didn’t seem to bother him as much anymore, so there was no way you could outrun him. You looked down to avoid his scrutiny and he used the back of his knife to force your chin back up.

He didn’t speak, but his eyes bore into yours, almost as if seeing through them into parts of you that were foreign even to yourself. The flat part of the blade trailed up to your cheek in what could be interpreted as a caress.

Your hand unconsciously intended to return the favor, running up his knee to his thigh, extra cautious around his wound. You noticed a change of pattern in his breathing, and so you looked down only to find one of the answers you sought — the print of his hardened cock cruelly imprisoned within his pants.

“Oh,” you breathed, surprised. Then again, when the reality of what you were looking at fully sank in. “Oh.”

Your hand moved on its own accord again, slowly slipping further up his thigh. Again, he tightly grabbed your wrist before your fingers reached their target, and you hissed in pain. He immediately let go, withdrawing the knife as well.

“Are you hurt?” He asked.

“A sprained wrist isn’t gonna kill me,” you said, keeping your hand on his leg to drive your point across. “Now that, on the other hand, has to be taken care of.”

“Taken care of, huh?” He rasped, his voice hoarse with want and self-directed anger because of it.

He raked a hand through your hair, gathering it in his first and pulling your head towards his crotch. He pressed your cheek against his bulge, his hips bucking ever so slightly.

“And how do you suppose that’s gonna happen?” He added.

“I have a few ideas if you’re open to them,” you panted, ignited in a way that almost fully consumed you.

His eyes searched your face for a moment, drinking you in as he searched for any indications of doubt, and then he whispered, “Are you sure?”

This time you didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

He saw the feverish gleam of hunger in your eyes as he pulled away and unbuckled his belt, pushing down his pants. The outline of his cock was even more prominent through his briefs and you couldn’t help a sharp intake of breath at the sheer size of him. He was still holding onto your hair, stepping closer and effectively cornering you against the couch.

You boldly started to reach for the hem of his briefs, but he said, “No. I want you to use your teeth.”

“Getting a little bold there, old man,” you said with a smirk, keeping your eyes on him as you dipped your head to plant a soft kiss on his thigh, right by his stitches.

He winced slightly at the contact, but you could see his cock throb against the fabric covering it. Your smirk only widened, “But I gotta admit I’m pretty impressed so far. Didn’t even have to slip a blue pill in your oatmeal.”

He gripped your jaw, clicking his tongue in disappointment. “I think you need more proof, actually. Allow me.”

With his free hand, he roughly tugged down his briefs and his cock finally sprang free — so thick and long and just fucking perfect — hitting his lower abdomen. The head of it glistened with precum, which he spread with his thumb. You shifted in your seat, biting your lip as saliva flooded your mouth.

“Open,” he ordered.

You immediately complied, wondering when the fuck you’d gotten so obedient. He gripped the base of it and fed it into your mouth slowly. You wrapped your lips around it, feeling it slide smoothly against your tongue.

A small groan escaped him, his head tipped back at the first rush of pleasure. You hummed a little in response and he felt the vibration of the sound against his shaft. His hips began to move again, shuttling his length deeper into your mouth, until you could feel the head of it reach your throat.

He let you steady yourself by placing your hands on his legs, his hand returning to the back of your head as it bobbed up and down. Then suddenly, when you’d reached the very base, he kept your head down. Your nose was against his pelvis, your deep, even breaths fanning against the fine hair that curled there.

Your nails dug into the flesh of his legs as you staved off your gag reflex as best as you could. Still, you couldn’t help but squirm a little, already pretty slick between your thighs.

He cursed under his breath as he let you come up for air, an obscene string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his cock.

"If I knew you were such a cock drunk slut, I would have dropped my pants much earlier just to shut you up,” he said with a smug grin, looking down at you.

“More bold words from someone who’s only gonna last this round. I’m gonna have to take care of myself after you’re done,” you taunted lightly, making him pull at your hair.

You kept eye contact with him as you stuck your tongue out and traced it over a large vein on the underside of his shaft. You left a trail of wet, sloppy kisses as you made your way back to the tip, and he lightly slapped it against your tongue a couple of times before pushing your head back down on it. His balls tightened momentarily as he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, and you knew he was enjoying himself much more than he let on.

"Well, if it's gonna be only one, might as well make good use of it, don't you think?" He said, pulling you off of him and making you stand up.

His lips were on yours in the next moment, just as desperate and hungry as the first kiss. He kicked his pants off the rest of the way and yanked your sweater off along with your thermal undershirt. He reached for your pants, but you slapped his hand away, extricating yourself from his lips to undo them yourself.

As soon as they were off, he turned you around and bent you over the back of the couch. There was a wet spot in your underwear that made him smirk, but he also couldn’t deny the way his cock throbbed at the sight.

“This is in the way…” he grunted, tugging at your bra strap.

Before you even registered what was happening, he brought the knife back out and sawed the bra off of you. You let out a gasp that was both surprised and indignant as he proceeded to rip your panties off with his bare hands, tossing the scraps of fabric aside.

“Hey! Those are the only ones I have here!” You huffed, glaring at him over your shoulder. “Unless you have a secret stash of women’s underwear, you seriously owe me.”

He nudged your knees apart with his leg. “I don’t think you’re going to need them while you’re here. You were already ruining them yourself, anyway.”

Before you could retort, you felt him push inside of you slowly, grabbing your hips as he let out a low moan.

“Fuck…” you sighed without thinking, leaning your elbows against the back of the couch.

“Yeah? Does that feel good?” He cooed condescendingly.

“In your drea–”

His hips snapped into yours harshly, interrupting you. You felt the heat of him against your back as he leaned over you, his breath fanning across the side of your face.

“If I were you, I’d be careful about lying again. I might just stop and leave you all drenched like this, with your hands tied behind your back so you couldn’t touch yourself.”

He felt you clench around him at that and his smirk turned victorious. He kissed and sucked at your shoulder and neck, making sure to leave plenty of marks. His thrusts were hard and deep at first, hips barely pulling back as his weight pinned you down.

You let out a sound that was a strange mix between a whimper and a gasp as he bit into the tender flesh of your shoulder, hard enough to leave teeth marks behind. The jolt of pain mixed with pleasure – not to mention the slight shame that came with the feeling of your arousal dripping down your inner thighs – only fueled the fire that was steadily growing within you.

Then, a little mindlessly, you pleaded, “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

He straightened immediately, readjusting himself to start pounding into you at a nearly punishing pace. You bit your bottom lip to try and keep quiet, but wanton sounds of pleasure escaped your throat despite your efforts. He was hitting a spot that made your head spin, tugging you backward onto his cock to meet his thrusts.

The lewd sound of flesh slapping together, along with your collective pants and groans, filled the room. He reached forward to grab your throat again, keeping you semi-upright as he continued to take you. In truth, he was focusing hard to stave off his release. He had plenty of stamina for his age, but the way your cunt took him so perfectly, as if molded just for him, was enough to have his balls tightening again.

But he would never hear the end of it.

Your legs began to shake a little as the coil in your belly tightened, threatening to snap. “I-I think I’m gonna cum, fuck…”

“Not yet,” he said firmly, immediately stopping his motions.

You cursed him under your breath, beyond frustrated. You pushed your hips back, intent on fucking yourself on him, but his firm grip stopped you. He landed a firm smack on your ass, making you involuntarily clench around him. He hissed, feeling the strong urge to give in and continue fucking you until you came all over his cock, but he kept his composure. He wanted to keep indulging you for as long as he could, still not fully believing he wasn’t just having a dirty dream.

“Do that again and I’ll rip your fucking head off,” you snarled as he pulled out, grabbing your arm and leading you toward the bed.

“I told you I was going to make it count.”

He tossed you onto your back on the bed, crawling on top of you and pushing your knees up to your shoulders. He positioned himself between your thighs and sank back into your cunt with no further preambles, his strong body covering yours once more.

His hands cradled your head as he began to move again, reaching impossibly deeper than before. You clawed at his biceps as he ground his pelvis against you, making your brain practically short-circuit.

“There we go… See? I knew you could take more,” he said, kissing the corner of your lips. “Are you scared I'll pull out again? You keep sucking me back in.”

Too dazed to form words, your lips chased his so he would kiss you properly. Your tongue trailed over his upper lip enticingly, and he opened his mouth so his tongue could meet yours. This kiss was deeper, less frantic, finally giving yourselves a chance to taste each other properly.

Soon you were clenching around him again, too distracted by your mounting pleasure to continue kissing him properly.

“Fuck, don’t stop, Duncan. Please, please, please, just like that,” you begged desperately, moaning as he moved to kiss your jaw.

“Yeah? You want me to fill you up, too?” He rasped against your skin. “Claim this needy cunt all for myself?”

You nodded eagerly, face contorting with ecstasy as you held onto him for dear life. Your muscles seized up as your climax washed over you, overpowering your senses. His hips stuttered as you cried out, your hot flesh molding into his like the deepest embrace.

He kissed you again as he felt his own release rippling over him, groaning into your mouth as he shuddered, unable to hold himself back any longer. He thrusted hard a few more times before remaining fully inside of you, and you felt heat flooding your cunt.

A whimper of slight overstimulation escaped you, but he soothed you with a whispered praise in your ear. You couldn’t help but smile beatifically, almost purring in content as he kept his cum inside of you.

As you both rode out your highs, your kisses turned lazy, almost tender, and even the way he held you felt different. Somehow, in some deep recess of your mind, it seemed right… and that scared you a little.

Still, you tried not to let it get to you then. Not as he leaned his sweaty forehead against yours, still panting, and said, “I think I tore my stitches.”

You chuckled. “You should probably take care of that, then.”

“In a minute…”

He disentangled himself from you, pulling out and sliding his body down between your legs. You tried to draw your thighs together, but he stopped you, planting a kiss on your mound.

He spread your lips with two fingers so he could see his cum trickling out of you, but then he pushed it back in with those same fingers, making your hips jerk slightly.

“T-this was a one time thing, you know,” you breathed, trying to sound firm.

He barely glanced up at you, seemingly unbothered. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

But only an hour or so later, you found yourself riding him on the couch. Then, he took you against the wall, over the kitchen counter, off the edge of the bed, and subsequently on the floor. He seemed intent on making sure you never questioned his endurance ever again.

Even throughout the night, you slept sporadically, pawing at each other whenever you stirred. Not many words were exchanged during this time, but that didn’t mean your mouths weren’t put to good use. As usual, you both wound up with bruises, bite marks, and scratches all over each other, but the intention behind them couldn’t be any more different.

The storm died sometime during the night, but instead of fleeing right away, you let him hold you until dawn broke. There were too many new questions floating about in your head, but you weren’t really sure you wanted the answer to any of them for the time being. Perhaps it was simply best to let what happened remain in the past and simply move on.

As quietly as you could, you got up from the bed, cleaned yourself up, and dressed. You sheathed your weapons, avoiding looking at him as you prepared to leave. When your hand was on the doorknob, his voice stopped you.

“You didn’t kill me again,” he said. “Should I take that as an indication that you like me?”

You looked over at him, frowning. “Absolutely not. I’m serious, this was the last time it’ll ever happen.”

“I’m not sure I can trust your word.”

You huffed, irritated. “Well, you’ll have to. I intend to keep it.”

You yanked the door open, about to stomp outside, but you heard the creak of the bed as he sat up.

“You know, I’m going to be in Portofino in a few months. I heard it’s beautiful there in the summer, and I figured I could use a vacation.”

“Are you trying to make yourself an easy target?”

“...Maybe.”

“And if I decide not to hunt you down?”

He raised an eyebrow. “If?”

You grimaced. “All I’m saying is don’t get your hopes up. I’m a very busy gal, I don’t have time to play cat and mouse with you.”

“And who’s who in that analogy, hm?”

You shook your head, rolling your eyes. “Goodbye, Duncan. Truce is over, do you hear me?”

“I’ll see you in Portofino. Make sure you bring sunscreen.”

The door slammed shut behind you.

---——-

Part 2 out now!

#duncan vizla fanfiction #duncan vizla x fem!reader #duncan vizla x reader #the black kaiser x reader #the black kaiser fanfiction #polar fanfiction #duncan vizla smut #the black kaiser smut

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thegainingdesk · 4 months

Text

The Spider to the Fly

Statement of Oliver Barrett, dated 22/05/2023

The rent should have been the first red flag, I know that, but fuck me, have you seen the rents in Dublin these days? Worst than fucking London, if you can believe it. And there's this guy, right, four-story townhouse, twenty minute walk from my new job, says he just wants a tenant to make this place feel less empty, all for a grand a month, bills included. In this market! Too fucking right I didn't question it.

Well, I say a grand a month. One thousand euro and one cent, to be exact. The cent didn't bother me at the time, why the fuck would it? The man wants to add a cent to the rent, I'll give him a cent. Maybe it was to get over some threshold for something, or some tax dodge, or whatever, I didn't know and I didn't care. It was still €999.99 less than I'd be paying anywhere else in Dublin for some damn sight nicer digs. Now though, knowing what I know, after everything that… well, anyway, it bothers me more now. It feels significant. Like those old penny rents you hear about, or something. Something symbolic, and old.

But anyway, there was a cheap room going, in a good location, a good house, it was bloody better than anywhere else I've come across, and I was only in Dublin for a weekend before I properly moved to get everything sorted, so I didn't ask too many questions. So I go to this house, and it was gorgeous. We're talking Edwardian or Georgian or, I don't know, fancy. Some Upstairs Downstairs shit, like there were servants quarters and a coal cellar and whatever a scullery is. I didn't really think about it at the time - again, I'm not really in a position to ask questions - but you usually see houses like that in a row, right? Like terraced? This one was just there. On its own. On a nice street, don't get me wrong, but it was taller than any of the other houses, set back a little, and the style's all wrong. Maybe I thought the rest of the street had gotten destroyed in the Blitz or whatever they had in Dublin, it's not like I know anything about history outside of naming a couple of Henry the eighth's wives.

So I walked up to this great big, not quite right house, and I pulled this rope by the door and it fucking clanged. This wasn't some little ding dong electric doorbell, this was some fucking machinery. It felt like the house was vibrating from it. And while I'm reeling, this Victorian era sonic torture device still going off in my ears, the door swung open, too fast really, faster than you'd expect someone to get to the door, even if they were by it.

I don't know who I was expecting but this guy was hot. Like, something else. I'm talking movie star hot. Fuck, maybe he was a movie star, there's so many movies these days, right? He could have an Oscar for all I know, maybe that's how he could afford the house. I'm looking up at him, checking him out, and I don't have to look up at many people but this guy is real fucking tall, six-six maybe? And rail thin, but in a way that he makes work, he wasn't gaunt or anything just… angular. He had this jet black hair and his eyes were somehow even darker - at the time I probably would have said they were like ink or the night sky or something sappy, but looking back all I can think of is how shark's eyes look. I don't know, maybe that's just me projecting stuff after… well you know, after what happened. And he's just stood there, completely still, but, fuck, I really don't know if I can explain how fucking still this guy was. And that's not me looking back after the fact, at the time I was a bit creeped out. It was like looking at an optical illusion or something, like my eyes couldn't put together this guy that I'd just seen open a door in double-speed with how fucking still he was now. It was like someone had pasted a photo into the middle of my vision. And even though he was so fucking still, there was this, I don't know, this tension to him, like I could just see some energy there, ready to… fuck, I don't know, pounce. Like a tiger or… well, like a… but that's for later I guess.

Anyway, I'm checking this guy out, because he was sort of giving me the creeps, sure, but he was also fucking hot, and suddenly he wasn't so still anymore, and he’s looking me up and down and he's smiling and I'm starting to feel like this guy's checking me out right back. I don't know if you're gay, but there's this look, right, every gay guy knows it, this discrete little up and down, maybe with a little smirk and it just says, you know, "I'm gay, you're gay, let's fuck sometime". Now, I've had my share of guys in the past, I'm not about to be humble about it, I know that I'm hot myself, or, well I guess, you know, back then… but you know, I really was a great looking guy. Square fucking jaw, little dimple right in the middle of my chin, real broad shoulders, you know, I've always played rugby, and you could tell, because I had some decent fucking muscle on me, still do, probably, somewhere under all this fucking… whatever. The point is that I've had guys lining up for a chance to bounce on my dick, so I wasn't exactly shocked when guys checked me out but this guy, I mean, he was out of my league, you know? Out of everyone's league. It's insane to think guys that look like that would check anyone out.

So I was feeling sort of cocky, like maybe I could get more than a room out of this deal. And I know, don't shit where you eat, and definitely don't fuck your landlord, but fuck me this guy was hot, right? I couldn't pass up on this. And everyone in the fucking city's probably going for the room, it's not like I was likely to get it anyway, not with an advert that attractive. Sorry, what's that? Where did I see the advert? No, sorry, I can't quite… No, no, I don't think it was on a website, maybe a… Listen, I don't fucking remember, okay?

Anyway, so this guy smiled and he stepped back, and with his long legs he was all of a sudden right back in the shadows, and he let me in and the door closed behind me and all of a sudden it's just so dark. And I sort of stumbled around and I hear his voice, somewhere off down the corridor, and he said, and I remember this, because it's the first time I heard his voice, all soft and whispery, like I'm imagining it more than I'm hearing it, and there's this light, coming down the corridor from some door, but it's not like the hallway gets any brighter, it's just this beam of light for me to walk to. And he said, right, he says "Why don't you come into the parlour?" I remember that, exactly, because who the fuck says parlour, but it's in my head too, like it echoes in there. Anyway, so I walk towards this light, but it feels, I don't know, like I'm pushing through something, like- fuck, sorry, can we stop for a minute, I just need-

[Archivist's note: the recording was paused here at the subject's request. The subject was provided with a cup of tea and a member of the museum staff brought some food. After around five minutes, the subject was happy to continue the interview.]

Sorry, it's just, that's sort of where it feels like it all started. Walking through that hallway towards that voice and that light and that… that parlour. I'm not sure I really even remember what happened next. We spoke, for a while, the house rules and stuff I guess, when rent was due. I don't even remember agreeing to taking the room, it was just assumed. He certainly didn't give me a tour. He didn't even tell me his name, I don't think, not then anyway.

The next thing I knew I was back blinking in bright daylight, disorientated to be out of the dark and out of the warm, heady air of my new home. I flew back to London the next day, and spent the next few weeks preparing for my move. I received a contract in the post and found out my landlord's name - Damhán Alla. The contract was short, and was lacking a lot of the details I was expecting - nothing about a deposit, no bank details to transfer money to, none of the usual stuff. And what was there was odd - the contract was for one year and one day, no naked flames, the basement was out of bounds, I wasn't allowed to use certain spices or cleaning products, and I specifically wasn't allowed to do the hoovering myself. But like I said, if he wanted to run a tax dodge or whatever it was by renting me a cheap room, and if he was a little particular about his cleaning, or he's got some allergies, I was happy to help him out.

I turned up with all my worldly possessions in a few bulky bags - I'd either sold a lot of my stuff or sent it to my parents for storage, there was no realistic way I could haul much of anything to Ireland. My new landlord opened the door and was once again eye-achingly still for a moment or two, and then suddenly he's all charm, welcoming me in, taking my bags from me once I'm over the threshold, asking me how the journey was, if I wanted something to eat or drink.

I stuck my hand out. "It's Damhán, right?" I said. "I don't think we actually exchanged names last time." Thinking back, I don't even know how he knew my name and address to send me the contract.

His laugh was soft, but with a cruelty hiding somewhere deep in it. There was another sound there too, coming from his throat; a clicking maybe, or bubbling, and a hissing behind that. "Damhán," he corrected my pronunciation. "Not 'Damn-ham'."

"Down," I tried again. He shook his head and repeated it, slowly. "Dow-un," I said, doing my best to replicate him. He shrugged and gave a small nod - it would do, obviously.

I had the attic room - a whole floor really. In contrast to the rest of the house it was light and airy, with large windows and modern furniture. It had an en suite, a little kitchenette, even my own sitting area. I never needed to use the rest of the house if I didn't want to, but Damhán assured me from the shadows of the stairwell that I had the run of it, reminding me once again about the contract's stipulation not to go into the basement.

I got the full tour. The house was huge - I mean huge, you know. Bigger than it looked from the street, it must have just gone back and back. Loads of empty rooms, which makes sense, I guess; what are you supposed to fill that much space with? I remember at the time asking where his bedroom was, you know, just so I'm not stepping on his toes, and him avoiding the question. Thinking back I don't think I ever did figure that out. And the whole house was dark, curtains drawn in every room, hardly any lights. And cobwebs absolutely everywhere. And these cobwebs weren't dainty little strands, you know, they were thick. I'd occasionally walk through one and actually get stuck for a second or two. I remember thinking that if I had enough money to afford a house like that I'd hire a cleaner to come in a couple of times a week, but rich people are weird, right?

We made our way through the dark to the kitchen - me stumbling, my new landlord silent - where he started pulling out pots and pans to cook me lunch. I can't remember if I'd mentioned being hungry, but I suppose I must have been, anyway, after so long traveling.

Once he was set up, he led me through to the parlour where we spoke that first time, and told me to sit down. He left and I could hear him cooking in the kitchen.

He came back in after a while and placed a plate filled with bacon sandwiches in front of me. The bread was thickly sliced and freshly baked, the fat on the bacon was still sizzling slightly, and I could smell the butter before it was even close. There must have been three or four of them on the plate, each one piled with bacon and far too much for me to eat in one sitting usually. I remember salivating and licking my lips. Damhán licked his lips as well, and watched me tuck in.

Damhán wasn't much of a talker, I quickly learned, but he liked my company at meal times. Whenever I did try talking to him, he'd always end up laughing - with that hissing, bubbling, clicking sound beneath it. I learnt after a while to not make him laugh. He'd not eat with me, he'd just… watch me. Each breakfast and dinner time, and lunch on weekends, he'd call me into the parlour, place a pile of food in front of me and watch me eat it all. Always huge portions, always rich and fatty, always fucking incredible. Some of the best food I'd ever eaten, honestly. Every time I'd think, I'm never finishing that, y’know, always a proper pile of food, and then I'd take that first bite and… Look, it did taste amazing, it did, and I'm sure that was a part of it, but really… I don't know. I just ate. Like I entered a trance, or I was sleepwalking, or… I don't know, okay? All I know is he'd put food in front of me and watch me eat and then it was like, I don't know, like I knew I was eating but I didn't feel it. Like someone else was eating and I was watching them as well.

I started snacking at work as well. I've never been much of a snacker, got to watch my figure you know. Ha! And you can see for yourself how that turned out. But all of a sudden I'm just hungry all the time, I'm stashing chocolate and biscuits in my desk and in my coat, and all day I'm just mindlessly eating and- no, no, not like when he was watching, not that kind of mindless, just, you know, I didn’t ever think about it, it was just, I don't know, habit or instinct or automatic or whatever.

I didn't notice at first. The weight gain, I mean. God, I mean I must have noticed it, but I didn't notice it, you know? Like I could see it happening, I could see myself getting doughy and could see my gut puffing up and how my clothes weren't fitting right, but it's not like. I don't know. I thought with the move and the new job and living in a new country, it was just stress. Like, my weight goes up and down sometimes, this was just an up, there was nothing to notice.

But it kept on going up. And up. And at some point I'm bigger than I've ever been and my clothes aren't just fitting weird or too small, they're tight. Like, couple of sizes, bursting out, buttons not closing tight. I don't know what everyone at work thought. God, I must have been obscene. Actually, I think I, yeah, give me a moment, I've got a picture from around then, some work drinks thing… ah, yeah, here you go.

[Archivist’s note: the subject here showed a picture of himself in a small crowd, at a bar or similar. The subject looks to be around 250 lbs and wearing clothes several sizes too small, with skin showing where his shirt has ridden up, and shirt and trousers showing clear signs of the fabric straining. This picture, along with several others the subject has provided of themselves during their time in Ireland, can be found in the supplemental materials attached to this statement.]

I still didn't see it though. Like, you can see what I looked like, and, I mean, god those trousers! They must have killed, you know? And I can remember how painful they were to wear, remember noticing my body getting bigger, but my brain, I don’t know, just didn’t make the connection that I was actually getting fatter.

It was fast. Really fast. There was this woman in the office, Sarah, right, and she was maybe six months pregnant when I started. Well, obviously, couple of months later she's going on maternity and I looked over at her and I think its the first time I clocked how big I was getting because I realised my belly was bigger than hers. Even accounting for, you know, different heights and builds and stuff, my gut still looked bigger on my frame. One day just before she was due, she mentioned she's put on over two stone, and I remember people saying how much that is. I get home and I weighed myself for the first time since London. I was eighteen and a half stone. I'd put on about five stone since moving. I literally put on more than twice as much as a pregnant woman, and I did it in only a few months. That's mad, right? After that I tried to pay a bit more attention to my weight, step on some scales occasionally, but like I say, it was difficult. My brain just couldn't focus on the idea.

At some point in all of this, some point before I realised I put on more than Sarah I mean, Damhán one day just appeared in the parlour while I was eating some, I don't know, mound of potatoes and meat, and he just put this pile of clothes next to me. Didn't say a word, no mention of how it's because I'm bursting out of my own clothes or where they've come from, just puts them next to me then stands back to watch me eat.

I tried them on later and they fit perfectly. Well, I mean. They fit, anyway. I think I was so used to my clothes cutting in everywhere by that point that anything that was actually reasonably my size felt like it was tailor-made. They must have been expensive though. Real wool suits, tweed trousers. Not really my style, you know, bit old fashioned, but I couldn't deny they looked good, and by that point I was just happy I had something where I could get all the buttons to close.

I remember one time, not too long after, I think I was a bit over twenty stone at that point. I’d come back from the pub - I started drinking a lot, during it all. I think on some level I recognised how fucked up it all was and was just trying to… I dont know. Numb myself. Get out of the house. Whatever. I came back, took off my coat and shoes and whatever, get upstairs and collapsed. The next morning I had this hangover from hell, but at least I knew Damhán’s going to have sorted a slap up breakfast to help me through it. So I went downstairs and… god, sorry, it's just… right, no, I'm fine, I'm fine, I just need…

[Archivist's note: The recording was once again paused here, and the subject was given some cake and biscuits while he became settled.]

Sorry, where was I? Right. I went downstairs and he’s standing in the hallway with his palm outstretched. Completely still, like he's been there hours, just waiting for me to come down. He had a lighter in his hand - I must have nabbed it off someone in the smoking area, you know how it is on a night out, you just sort of pick these things up, don’t you? Anyway he’s stood there with this fucking lighter in his hand, just staring and staring at me as I come down the stairs, and he said “Your contract said no lighters”. That's it. No “good morning” or “how's the head” or whatever. “Your contract said no lighters.”

And I said, you know, sorry, won't happen again, few too many last night, as you do. And he doesn't move. Just stood there with his lighter and he just repeated himself, louder: “No lighters, no naked flames.” And I realise, this guy’s angry. Really, properly, fucking livid. He was almost shaking with it, you could hear it in his voice. His face wasn't really showing it, not really, a little bit around his mouth maybe, but his eyes were… fuck they were blank. This guy was furious about this lighter, probably waited for hours for me to wake up, and his eyes were just blank.

So I'm there realising just how badly I've fucked up, that he must have some phobia or something. I’d seen all the hobs and whatever were induction whatsits, but I'd not really thought about it until then, just thought, I don't know, fuck, that they were just induction hobs, didn't think to care. I started to apologise again, told him I understood. I don't know if he heard me. He just went on and on about lighters and fire, getting louder and louder all the time, until suddenly he just stops and turns around and walks away down the hall.

For a second he stopped outside the door to the basement and put his hand on the knob and turned to look at me. It was like he was sizing me up, looking me up and down. Clearly he decided against whatever he was planning because he carried on to the kitchen and just snapped at me to go sit in the parlour. I remember that moment really clearly. And to say it now, it's nothing, right? He went to open a door. Decided against it. But… fuck me, it felt important at the time. Like my whole life depended on whether or not he opened that door. Maybe it did.

Fifteen minutes later he walked in and just put two big frying pans down in front of me, one piled up with bacon, one filled with eggs and sausages. He walks away and comes back with a loaf of bread and a couple of packs of butter and throws those at me and says “eat”.

And there was a part of me that, you know, obviously wanted to ask about the deconstructed breakfast sandwich I've just been served, and a part of me that was just absolutely boggling at how much food there was, but then there was… I mean the biggest part of me, the bit that wins out, just says to eat.

So I ate. I reached out and I grabbed some bacon with my bare hands out of the frying pan and I just shoveled it in my mouth, and just carried on until it was all gone, all the while with Damhán stood watching. Then the eggs and sausages, just with my hands, you know, with the yolk just, fuck, just dribbling down my arms. When that was all gone I started taking bites out of the bread. Didn't slice it, didn't butter it, just ate until it was gone. Then Damhán just carried on watching me and I… I got that feeling. Like I was in a trance and the only thing I knew is that I had to eat. So I bit into the butter. Just took a great big bite out of it. And another, and another. Fuck me, I ate it like it was chocolate. And I was screaming at myself to stop, right? Obviously I didn't want to be eating butter by the block. But he didn't force me, or threaten me, or whatever, didn't even tell me to. I ate it. I did that. Me. And he just watched.

Once I was done he walked out and left me alone. I won't lie, I cried. Pretty fucking hard. My stomach hurt, I was covered in butter and grease and egg. I felt huge - I was huge. And I just felt so ashamed.

After that it all picked up pace. He never mentioned that day again, but meals got bigger. A lot bigger. Each one could have fed a rugby team. Occasionally he'd just put a block of butter on the side, like it was a fucking dessert or something. I always ate it. He never told me to. I just knew what I was supposed to do.

And I started swelling up. I was gaining fast beforehand, but this was, fuck me, I reckon it must have been over a pound a day, maybe two. Must have been, honestly, considering how fast it all was and how big I am now. Clothes just seemed constantly uncomfortable; even straight after he'd given me bigger ones, they'd not quite fit right. My back hurt all the time from hefting around this gut, my feet hurt, I got these stretch marks fucking everywhere. It was just a lot, all the time, and my body never got a chance to adjust.

It was around Christmas, I must have been, maybe twenty-six, twenty-seven stone - who knows honestly, it all went by so fast. I went to my work’s Christmas do. Fuck knows what they must have all thought of me - can you imagine? They hire me at thirteen, fourteen stone, and not even a year later I'm pushing double that and not showing any signs of stopping?

Anyway, the Christmas do. I'm wearing the biggest Christmas jumper that I could find in M&S, and even that's, you know, riding up on me, fits me like a sausage casing. People are being friendly, nicer than I'd be if I was watching someone inflate in front of me in real time, if I'm being honest. No jokes or anything; not to my face anyway. And someone asks if I'm going home for Christmas, and I say no, I'm staying in Dublin. They ask, you know, very reasonable questions; am I not seeing family, my friends back in London? And I couldn't answer them. I had no clue why I wasn't going back home.

Eventually someone asks will I be doing anything with my housemates. I said it's just me and the landlord, so they get to asking about him, you know, what's he like, is he alright, do I get on with him. And at some point I mention his name and a couple of people give me funny looks, one woman laughs at me. I assume I've just said it funny, you know how Irish names are. And someone tells me that Damhán Alla means spider in Irish. I sort of laugh and say I must be saying it wrong, I spell it out on a napkin and someone says, no, that’s definitely just ‘spider’. And they keep on asking questions; is it his first name, full name, do I know if it's a nickname, just finding it absolutely mad that the new fat English bloke at work is claiming his landlord’s full name is Spider.

It makes me feel weird. I think they eventually just accept it as a weird name, like celebrity parents calling their kids Apple or Moonbase, but it really stuck with me. And I didn't really talk the rest of the evening, I just sat thinking about the cobwebs, and how dark the house is, and how dark and empty his eyes were.

At some point I followed someone to the smoking area and made a point of nicking a lighter. I didn't know what it was supposed to do, what I'd use it for, but fuck it, if Damhán didn't want me to have a lighter then I'd make sure to have a lighter. I tucked it into my pocket, and from that point on I always had it hidden somewhere, slept with it under my pillow, even kept it in sight when I was having a shower.

Nothing changed for a while, not really. I had my lighter, and I was thinking about Damhán differently, but honestly, it's not like I'd trusted him for a good while anyway. I was still eating the insane piles of food he put in front of me, still getting fatter and fatter. This goes on for a few months, and remember, I reckon I'm putting on over a pound a day at this point - a few months is a good long time to be putting on that much weight. But, as I got bigger, I felt like Damhán started to act differently towards me. I could see him eyeing me up sometimes, like, I was some fruit he was waiting on to get ripe enough. He even asked me, a couple of times, how much I weighed. I'd always tell him, between my bites of butter. One time I said I wasn't sure and he followed me up to the bathroom and watched me weigh myself. I remember him laughing when I read off the weight - bubbling and clicking and hissing again, making my stomach turn - and telling me I was doing a good job.

One Sunday in March, breakfast was huge. I mean, I was pretty used to eating a lot of food by that point, but this was just a crazy amount of food. He just kept bringing out plates and plates of it, didn't even watch me like he usually did, just kept on going back into the kitchen to whip up more. Eventually the sausages and eggs turn into roast vegetables and chicken and gravy, and there's some steaks in there, a load of it was just ready meals still in the plastic, and it all just keeps coming and coming and I just keep eating and eating. Eventually it got dark and the food stopped coming. He never says what the fuck just happened or that it was over, he just stops coming in with trays of food. Anyway, at some point a bit after that I heard him go through the basement door, which, I mean, I should have realised then that something was about to happen. Because I've never been down there, obviously, but I also don't think I've ever seen him go down there either.

Anyway, I sit there burping and farting and digesting until I feel human enough to pull myself up, and fuck me I was used to putting on weight by that point, but I could literally feel all that sudden extra weight. And I stagger up the stairs, probably travelling about a foot a minute, really fucking sluggish, until I collapse into bed, in the same too small pyjamas I had on that morning, my gut fucking looming over me, not even enough strength to pull the covers over me, fuck knows if I’d even be able to reach over my gut to grab them in the first place, and I’m asleep within a few minutes.

At some point I woke up. I didn't think too much about it at first, because I'd started snoring pretty bad somewhere in the first hundred pounds or so, bad enough that I woke myself up with it sometimes. But eventually, I started to see a shape somewhere above me. Like, the room was pitch black, but there was a section above me that was even darker. And I felt something drop onto my face, like something wet and slimy. I reach over to turn my light on and there's Damhán leaning over me, with his mouth wide open, long lines of saliva falling down onto me.

And his teeth were, fuck, I don't know if I'd ever seen his teeth before. Like, maybe he never opened his mouth when he spoke? Or maybe it was the same as how I didn't think about how much I ate or how big I was getting and he just made me not notice them, but they were… fuck me. His mouth was full of these huge, sharp, black fangs.

And even though he had his mouth wide open, wider than I've ever seen any human ever open their mouth, it sort of felt like he was smiling. Like this sadistic, shit-eating smile.

I backed away, as best as I could, what with my being the size of a small hatchback and the fact that he was close enough that even a normal sized person wouldn't be able to really put that much space between him and them, never mind me with my gut almost touching him. I realised that I was covered in cobwebs, thick ones, so that I had to pull them off as I went. And he laughed. His mouth didn't move, but he laughed, and it was so much worse than any other time I'd heard. It was that same gurgling, hissing, clicking sound, but it was like he wasn't bothering to cover it up anymore. I felt like throwing up.

I reached under my pillow and I grabbed my lighter and held it up to him, lit. It seems mad really, how he reacted to it. A tiny little flame like that, and that fucking monster cowered from it like I was holding a gun up to his head. I’m not particularly maneuverable, these days, so it was a struggle, but I made sure as fuck to keep that little flame between him and me at all times as I heaved myself out of bed.

I backed towards the door, and I think he panicked that I was going to get away because he lunged at me and… fuck. He went up like he was covered in petrol. The flame barely touched him. And he started going around the room, bumping into things, and they went up as well.

I couldn't exactly run, but I turned around and I lumbered out of there as quickly as I could. At one point I turned round and the whole landing had gone up behind me. I couldn't believe how fast it was all burning. I think it was all the cobwebs.

I got downstairs, with my heart pounding, and I turned around one last time to see the basement door open. I heard this clicking and gurgling, like when Damhán laughed, and these legs came out round the door, like spiders’ legs but huge. Six, eight feet long maybe. I didn't wait to see whatever they were attached to. I barrelled the door down, and I think it came off its hinges - this much weight will do that.

A neighbour must have rung 999, because the emergency services got there pretty sharpish. The paramedics put one of those foil blanket things awkwardly over my shoulders, like it was supposed to cover me up, and I got given a cup of tea and sat in an ambulance for a bit, then got taken to the police station for some questioning. I lied, obviously. Just told them I woke up when I heard the fire alarm and that's all I knew. I mean, what was I supposed to tell them? I set fire to my surprisingly flammable landlord because he was fattening me up to feed to a spider god he kept in the basement? Is that… I mean, do you think that's what it was? No, no, I suppose you don't know any more than me.

Someone at the station must have picked something up about why I wasn't giving any details, or they had additional information about the house or something, because someone mentioned I should give you guys a call. That you've smoothed over cases before where some of the details have been, I don't know, weird.

And I guess I thought you might be able to give me some answers. If you've seen anything similar, I mean. Like why did he have to make me so fat? Okay, you've got a spider-thing in your basement and you want to make sure its meals are nice and big and nutritious, but then why take so long? Just feed it a normal-sized person a week, not, fuck, not the fattest person you’ve ever seen after a year.

No. No, I suppose you haven't. Sorry, I just. Yeah.

I've been to a doctor about the weight. They didn't even have any scales that could weigh me, they had to refer me to a specialist who had some bariatric scale things. Fucking four-hundred and eighty something pounds. Thirty-five stone, or near enough. Have you ever even seen someone that big? Ha, I suppose you have now, yeah. Anyway, yeah, they've got me on some special weight loss regime, you know, restricted calories, physical therapy which is basically just walking for ten minutes until I'm knackered. I need to lose a load of weight before they can even talk about surgery.

That's it, I guess. Will you- yeah, no sorry, you've got your own procedures and stuff. Yeah, I can see myself back to reception. I don't suppose you have any more of those biscuits, do you?

[Statement ends.

Final archivist's notes, dated 05/11/23: The details of Mr Barrett’s statement have been verified as far as possible. There is a record of his move to and employment in Dublin, and while there is not a record of his renting with Mr Alla, there is a record of the existence of a building matching Mr Barrett’s description at the address provided and of the fire Mr Barrett described [see supplemental materials].

There are 17 reports of missing persons logged in Dublin where the missing person had gained a significant amount of weight prior to their disappearance, going back to 1909.

The name Damhán Alla appears in four previous statements, dating back to 1907. We have added the name as a searchable tag to these statements, although none seem to deal directly with him.

In recent follow up interviews with Mr Barrett's family, friends and doctors, it would seem that his weight loss plan has been unsuccessful, and he has gained somewhat more weight since moving back to London. His family and friends have noted that he seems in good spirits, despite his rather unique trauma and ongoing circumstances. His father made a mention of a new hobby - a newfound interest in spiders.]

#weight gain #gaining fiction #gainer fiction #gainer story #weight gain story #male weight gain #wg story #weight gain fiction #the spider to the fly #ive had lots of people mention that whst they like about my stories is how sweet they are #lol anyway here's this #horror fiction

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baesimss · 9 months

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simmisota calendar overview

while i continue to work on more world overviews. i thought it would be cool to share what a calendar year looks like in my simmisota save file. i will continue to update this post as my calendar changes and holidays are added/removed.

in my game there are 21 day seasons, which gives me a total of 84 days in a year. i did my best to find a good balance of having holidays for my sim to celebrate but also having enough free days for my sims to celebrate birthdays, events and just live normal days.

please note: this calendar overview does not reflect any of my sim's personal birthdays, events nor does it reflect any game festivals or events.

let's get into the specific holidays i like to include in my game:

spring overview

spring cleaning: a semi-annual holiday for sims to cleanse their homes and prep for the new season ahead. traditions include: cleaning, do laundry, go grocery shopping.

tax day: a day where sims are required to pay their taxes. i accomplish this by using kiarasims4 tax day mod. traditions include: file tax return.

easter: a religious holiday. traditions include: attend holiday ceremony, baking, egg hunt, family dinner, flower bunny.

self-care day: a day for sims to take off work/school and cater to their mental, physical and spiritual wellness. traditions include: art & music spirit, health & wellness day, massage, meditate, relax in sauna, no school/work.

april fool's day: a day that encourages sims to be silly & have fun. traditions include: ding dong ditch, mischief spirit.

mary jane day: for my sims who enjoy a little flower. traditions include: smoking weed.

earth day: a day for sims to cater to the planet. traditions include: beach cleanup, gardening, volunteer.

mother's day: a day to love & appreciate all the mama sims. tradition's include: family dinner, gift a parent, hug parent, thankful spirirt, no work for women.

world art day: a day to appreciate all forms of the arts. traditions include: art & music spirirt, art exhibition, view art, watch live performance, watch a movie.

remembrance day: a day to reflect, mourn & appreciate loved ones who have passed. traditions include: hug parent, remembrance, thankful spirirt, visit family members.

prom: an event for high school seniors. traditions include: dancing, drinking, visit crush, party spirit.

summer overview

father's day: a day to love & appreciate all the sim daddys. traditions include: family dinner, gift a parent, hug parent, thankful spirirt, no work for men.

senior skip day: a day for high school seniors to ditch school. traditions include: party spirit.

graduation / last day of school: the last day of school for all sims and graduation for high school and college seniors. traditions: include: thankful spirit.

summer vacation: no school for the summer. traditions include: school holidays, water fun, play with toys, games.

simdependence day: traditionally a day to celebrate the history of simmisota and simnation but has become more about fireworks, bbqs & pool parties. traditions include: bbq, drinking, fireworks, go swimming, kiddie pool, no school/work.

1st day of school: marks the return to school for the next school year. traditions include: hug parent, make seasonal craft, read a book, writing skill.

fall overview

fall cleaning: a semi-annual holiday for sims to cleanse their homes and prep for the new season ahead. traditions include: cleaning, do laundry, go grocery shopping.

labor day: a vacation day for all employed sims, in appreciation for all the hard work they do. most sims use it to catch up with friends and go on dates. traditions include chat with someone, romantic spirirt, visit friends, no work.

self-care day: a day for sims to take off work/school and cater to their mental, physical and spiritual wellness. traditions include: bath, cook healthy, do a yoga routine, health & wellness day, meditate, no school/work.

halloween: a spooky holiday where sims enjoy dressing up, eating candy and watching scary movies. traditions include: carve pumpkin, halloween party, haunted house, trick or treat, wear costumes.

homecoming game: the highly anticipated football match between ubrite and foxbury. there are often a ton of college parties before and after the game. traditions include: sports tv, play cards, party spirirt, air grievances.

thanksgiving: a holiday for sims to appreciate their loved ones with a big feast. traditions include: donate, harvestfest, thankful spirirt, grand meal, visit family members, no school/work.

black friday: a capitalist holiday where sims to flock to the stores in search of good deals for the holidays. traditions include: go shopping, no school.

winter overview

winter vacation: a seasonal break in the school year. traditions include: no school.

christmas eve: a day for sims to get into the holiday spirit and prep for christmas day. traditions include: baking, build snowpal, father winter, volunteer, make seasonal craft, no school/work.

christmas: a religious holiday that has become a day for sims celebrate their loved ones with gifts and a big feast. traditions include: attend holiday ceremony, donate, festive spirirt, grand meal, open presents, no school/work.

new year's eve: a day for sims to reflect and celebrate on the past year, most sims are still on a high from christmas. traditions include: countdown to midnight, dancing, drinking, play with toys, no school/work.

new year's day: a day for sims to get focused on their goals for the year ahead. traditions include: cook healthy, make resolutions, journal, read a book, travel to the gym, no school/work.

bookworm day: a day that encourages sims to embrace their love of literature, no matter the genre. traditions include: read a book, tell stories.

super bowl sunday: the day of the annual championship football game - sims often host parties to watch the game together. traditions include: air grievances, drinking, eat pizza, sports tv.

valentine's day: a day for sims to get into the romantic spirit and show appreciation to their partners. traditions include: go on a date, romantic spirit, visit crush, woohoo, watch romantic tv.

wcif?

all of my traditions are from the following creators: kiarasims4, caradriel, littlemssam, & msqsims.

21 day seasons mod is from littlemssam

tax day mod is from kiarasims4

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#baesimss #📁: simmisota #baesimss world overviews #sims 4 holidays #sims 4 calendar

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delcakoo · 1 year

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i choose you! ˚ᘒ ˖˚𓈒 n.rk

SUMMARY ! at last, your journey begins on route 1 with your first pokemon by your side.. and your pesky neighbor who somehow angers a flock of pidgeys enough to chase the both of you back to where you started. but don’t worry, riki will be there to protect you.. probably!

PAIRING ! pokemontrainer!niki x gn!reader

WC ! 3.7k

GENRE ! pokemon au (dont need to know that much to understand) frenemies to lovers, fluff <3

WARNINGS ! riki’s nickname for you is dummy, mentions of scraped knews/elbows, bandaged wounds, blood, being attacked by birds

a/n: this has been in my drafts since january cuz i only wrote it for the pokemon nostalgia and im kinda iffy abt it.. i tried to clean it up tho so hope u all enjoy!

ding dong! ding dong! dingdongdingdongdingdongdingdo—

you practically yank your front door off the wall in vexation, the ringing in your ears dissipating the moment your annoying neighbour comes into view. he has a cheeky grin plastered across his pale face as his finger drops from your doorbell, shoving into his short’s pockets mischievously.

he tilts his head, and his black wavy hair bounces along animatedly. “ready to go, dummy?”

you’ve had the misfortune (or fortune) of being glued to nishimura riki’s side since birth.

you were the same age, yet it felt more like you were babysitting than hanging out with a friend during most of the time spent with him. your neighbor was the definition of a dork; an impulsive idiot with no sense of limits or rules that you’d constantly have to take control of before he did something stupid (though, there was no harm in letting it happen and relishing in the entertainment every so often). in fact, you could dare him to lick the sidewalk in exchange for a single oran berry, and he’d do it without hesitation.

reckless or not, you couldn’t deny your vast soft spot for the raven haired boy, considering he’s grown up with you and all.

but today, riki’s grin and visible excitement shockingly held a valid reason.

“hell yeah,” you reply with a smirk, gripping your backpack tighter once you descend down the front porch.

riki’s arm finds its way around your shoulder, smile growing as he stares down at you. “can you believe it, y/n? today’s really the day.”

you chuckle and nod. “yup, all those years at the academy will finally pay off.”

at least, it would for you; it was a miracle riki even graduated, noting that he still didn’t even know what would beat a dark type pokemon if one were to jump in front of him now.

“wonder what type of pokemon our starters will be,” he ponders. “i hope mine’s a dragon!”

“eh.. i think a bug type suits you better.”

in reply, he violently pinches your arm. “ay, ‘bet you’ll get a poison type with that attitude.”

while the bantering continues, the sliding door to your town’s lab eventually parts for the both of you. the high ceiling building was filled with all sorts of strange machines and metal tubes, and it was rather quiet besides the occasional sounds of pokemon chirping and playing in the distance. you vageuly remember being here once before on a field trip, as well as the memory of riki almost releasing a wild pokemon from it’s enclosure and getting your whole academy banned.

ah, good times.

as you trail inside, you feel something enclosed around your hand and carefully lace through your fingers. you glance down to investigate, brows furrowing at the sight of riki’s hand clasping yours tightly.

“..what are you doing?” you mutter with warm cheeks.

he shrugs. “this is a big moment, so i felt like holding your hand.” riki didn’t seem phased nor flustered at all, swinging your intertwined hands back and forth. it wasn’t too surprising for him to initiate physical touch, yet for whatever reason something as simple as hand holding was making a strange feeling erupt in your stomach.

though before you could question him further, a feeble voice echoed blaringly through the laboratory. “my my, what do we have here?”

and in walks who you remember as professor bonsai, icy white lab coat nearly touching the ground as her frail fingers reach up to adjust her green glasses. you recall the old woman visiting the academy once or twice, and it was easy to tell she knew a whole lot more about pokemon than any of your teachers or trainers just by how she spoke of them.

to his disappointment, you quickly rip your hand from your neighbour’s, bowing politely. “professor bonsai, it’s an honor!” you exclaim with enthusiasm. riki quickly bows too, following you closely.

the woman’s lips raise, scanning you up and down. “ah, i remember you. y/n, correct?” you quickly nod, smiling. when the professor looks over to riki, her welcoming expression drops, wrinkles deepening unpleasantly. “and you..”

riki’s eyes widened, scratching his neck nervously. he seems to have made a bad first impression with the woman in the past, and you couldn’t say you were surprised in the slightest. “uh, hi again.. professor.”

“lord arceus.. ” she mumbles disapprovingly before clearing her throat. “alright then, both of you this way.”

with that, the old lady turns, walking away and leaving you and riki to exchange worried glances.

“she definitely hates me,” riki whispers as you follow her through the lab.

you raise a judging brow, pinching his side. “probably for good reason. i bet you played some stupid prank on her at the academy or something.”

comically, his eyes widen. “how’d you know?”

as you open your mouth to reply with ‘because you’re riki’, the professor stops, gesturing to a small table under a bright light behind her.

“here we are, i assume you’ve already had the lecture of what it means to have your first pokemon?”

you nod, while riki watches dumbly. “yes professor.”

“then, you may pick one,” she states.

instantly, you freeze up.

there lay three shining red pokeballs, each in their own little capsules on display to the two of you.

that’s when it hit you that this was fully happening. the moment you’ve been waiting for since your first day at the academy; the day you’d get your first pokemon — your partner for life.

you glance over at riki.

when it came to your childhood friend, it felt like you already had a partner for life, as cheesy as it sounded.

you shake your head, riki would tease the hell out of me if i said that out loud.

while you were in deep thought, riki had already walked closer to the three mystery pokeballs, ever so carefully grabbing the middle one.

he glances over to the professor, who’s studying his actions sternly. “do i just- can i..?”

“go ahead,” she deadpans.

you watch in awe as riki throws the pokeball in front of him, red light flowing out of it before a small, turtle like creature with a single sapling coming out of its head plops onto the ground. it was mostly a pale green with a hint of yellow on it’s chin and feet, and a small brown shell adorned it’s smooth back.

“oh my god, it’s so cute,” you squeak in awe, rushing over to pet the pokemon’s shell. riki grins, quickly kneeling next to you to do the same. you fail to notice how every so often, his gaze bounces over to thoroughly take in your beaming expression rather than the little creature before him.

“that one is turtwig,” professor bonsai informs. “he’s a grass type, and the shell on his back is made from soil, which hardens when he drinks water.”

when riki scratches under turtwig’s neck, the creature chirps in delight, leaning into his touch more than yours. “guess i’ll have to buy lots of water,” riki declares, “i’ll choose him.”

without another moment of hesitation, he picks up the small pokemon, holding it in his arms happily. turtwig wiggles around, licking riki’s fingers and making the boy giggle cutely.

you gaze at them in desire, impatience rushing through you. riki observes as you pace over to the remaining two pokeballs, hesitantly taking the left one. the ball feels stable in your grasp, so shiny that you could make out your reflection reflecting onto the red lid. “pick a good one, dummy,” he cheers you on cheekily.

you roll your eyes in fake annoyance, still smirking as you gently throw the ball before you. rather unceremoniously, a small blue penguin flops out of the ball, face planting right onto the hard floor with an ugly chirp.

professor bonsai sighs, and riki bursts into a mean cackle. meanwhile you gasp, rushing over to help the pokemon up and into your embrace. “poor thing, are you okay? i’m sorry, i must’ve thrown it too hard.”

in response, the penguin puffs out its chest stubbornly, yet its expression screams that it’s embarrassed. the creature’s tiny yellow beak was slightly in a pout, and it took everything in you to not boop it fondly.

professor bonsai rubs her forehead. “that’s piplup, her species is rather clumsy yet very prideful. she has a hard time accepting food from humans and bonding with trainers that try to get close to her — and as you can see, she puffs out her chest whenever she falls down, which is quite often due to her poor walking abilities.”

contrary to the woman’s words, piplup seemed to enjoy your presence, peering up at you in satisfaction as you rubbed her tummy. however, when riki walks over to pet her as well, there was nothing to prepare him for when she decides to rudely peck his hand.

riki jumps back, nearly dropping turtwig. “ow!” he whines, and you swear you see the professor snicker proudly in the background.

“that’s what you get for laughing at her,” you declare, sticking your tongue out teasingly. piplup, who was now completely relaxed in your hold, sticks her small tongue out as well, making you burst into laughter. “if it’s okay, i’ll gladly take her, professor.”

she nods, nudging her glasses up with the tip of her finger. “very well then. do you both know where to go from here?”

“yeah,” “no,” you and riki blurt in sync.

unsurprised, you roll your eyes. “don’t worry, i have him under control.” with piplup sitting carefully on your shoulder, you grab riki’s forearm, quickly leading him out. “thank you professor, we’ll be sure to repay you!”

———

“i wanna be the very best, that no one ever was! dun dun du-dun, to catch them is my real test, to train th—ow!” riki pauses his serenading, cradling the arm that you’d pinched rudely.

“shut up, i’m trying to read this useless piece of shit,” you bark. “seriously who drew this thing? even you could make a better map than this!”

it’s quiet for a moment as the four of you continue wandering to who knows where, piplup fast asleep on your shoulder while riki and turtwig searched around cluelessly. there were freakishly large trees surrounding every mile of land, and lots of patches with wild grass that you both made sure to steer clear of; the last thing you needed was to fight wild pokemon before you could even buy pokeballs at the next town.

originally, you suspected that going from the lab to route one would be a piece of cake, but clearly not everything could go perfect in a day. unless you were reading it wrong (which you probably were), your map sent you in repetitive circles — and of course, the boy next to you didn’t provide much support.

abruptly, turtwig lets out a small chirp of his name minutes later, gesturing backwards with a prompt nod. riki follows his pokemon’s guide, eyes widening a fraction. “hey dummy, we’re looking for route one.. right?” he suddenly inquires, tapping your shoulder.

you roll your eyes, “yes, i told you that like an hour ago—“ you finally look up from your map and follow the boy’s gaze, jaw hanging off your face when you see a giant, obnoxious white sign reading ‘route 1’ on it.

you feel your eye twitch in annoyance. you were supposed to be on map duty while he kept an eye out for the destinations you read off. “you’ve got to be kidding me! riki, you were supposed to be looking for that humongous thing right in the middle of the forest for the past hour, are you blind?”

“i don’t know, turtwig didn’t see it either! i was just.. excited,” he defends.

how on earth am i supposed to survive with this idiot? you huff, folding up the map and throwing it into your backpack’s side pocket. next to you, riki has a small, discouraged pout on his lips, walking with his head slightly down.

his posture makes your eyes soften, guilt rushing through you as you reach up to pat his shoulder gently. “it’s okay, ki. sorry for yelling,” you apologise quietly.

riki kicks a rock into the air out of impulse, and you watch as it rockets all the way into a near patch of grass with no mercy. “nah, i deserved it anyway.”

then, an angry squak rips from the grass in front of you, right where riki had booted that stone.

you grip his shoulder in concentration, patting piplup awake with your other hand. “riki..”

“no y/n, seriously,” he insists, “i really do need to start focusing. we’ve only just left and..”

while he blabbers, you’re busy witnessing a raging flock of pidgeys fly up from the tall grass, furiously glaring down at the two of you.

“riki!” you holler, yanking him by his backpack. piplup is chirping frantically, holding on tightly as you grab riki’s hand and pull him behind while you sprint for your life.

the wavy haired boy has barely processed anything; nearly tripping on his own sneakers. when he looks back and realises the situation, riki’s eyes double in size comically. one pidgey hurls a small whirlwind right at him, and he narrowly dodges out of the way milliseconds prior with the help of turtwig’s warning chirp. “holy shit! what the hell do those ugly pigeons want!?”

“that rock you kicked must’ve hit one of them!” you scream your reply, anxiously feeling the birds getting closer. they were all scowling aggressively, clearly not up to discuss or show mercy.

just as you prepare to speed up even more, you feel the warmth of your neighbour’s hand get pulled away as a strong, angry gust yanks you away and down to the ground, piplup rolling off your back in the process and leaving riki screeching to a halt. your elbows and knees burn from scraping against the dirt, and the spinning in your head emits a groan from your lips.

nonetheless, you turn yourself onto your back in determination, sitting up on your palms again achingly. “get out of here!” you order riki, “me and piplup can deal with it.” the blue penguin chirps in agreement as she gets up herself, stretching her tiny arms and puffing up her chest again in an attempt of intimidation.

the pidgeys have almost caught up to the both of you, yet riki refrained from standing down; instead rushing to stand in front of you defensively. “no y/n, i have to do something helpful today,” he snaps. “turtwig, use razor leaf!”

riki spoke confidently as if he’s done this a million times before, yet it wouldn’t be a surprise to anyone that this encounter was both of your first ever real battles.

your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets at his command. “what— but— riki no! grass types are unaffective against flying types, we learned this in—“

it was too late — turtwig had already jumped in front of you in obedience to his owner, throwing an attack at the brown creatures with an angry howl.

but just as you’d explained, the normally sharp leaves had barely any effect on the pidgeys, only infuriating them further as they grouped together to summon another giant whirlwind at you.

right as the tornado spins towards you, you feel riki rush over and wrap his body around you protectively, shielding you for whatever’s to come. his arms felt surprisingly sturdy and warm, opposing the powerful body of wind firing your way.

at the same time, a new voice breaks the silence of your accepted defeat. “watch out, you two!”

you feel riki squeeze you tighter just before everything turns black.

———

it takes you a couple tries until your eyes fully open. the peaceful silence keeps you calm as you slowly but surely wake up, taking in the white hospital room accompanied with a quiet beep of a monitor next to you.

at your awakening, piplup coos in greeting from the pillow beside you. “hey cutie,” you greet with a smile, patting your pokemon’s head affectionately.

“oh, thought you were talking to me.”

you quickly turn over to your other side to see a dishevelled riki in a bed of his own, raven hair sticking up in all directions and a blue hospital gown adorning his figure. he has a couple bandages wrapped around his arms, and your chest tightens when you see slight hints of blood seeping through then.

at his words, you sigh. it amazed you how your neighbour managed to joke around even in a situation like this. “how’re you feeling?” you ask with worry.

riki looks away, staring up at the white ceiling emotionlessly. “useless, stupid, a failure.” you frown further. “besides that, just peachy.”

“it was just a mistake—“

“i’ve made enough of those, don’t you think?” he snaps, now completely turned on his other side to avoid eye contact. “and that time it wasn’t just another fuck up, y/n. you could’ve got hurt.”

your brows furrow, mind flashing back to how hard riki tried to protect you throughout the entire attack, no matter if he was endangered in the process. “and what about you, ki? sure, you messed up, but instead of running away like some people would, you tried your hardest to fix it and take responsibility.” the boy remains motionless, breathing slowly against his white pillow. “even when those pidgey’s nearly swept us off into a damn tornado, you still tried to protect me instead of yourself for some stupid reason.”

he scoffs. “c’mon y/n, you know damn well what that reason is.”

“what? no i d—“

“i care about you, like, a lot. i fucking like you, dummy.” at last, riki sits back up to face you, casually smoothing his hair down as if he’d just commented on the weather or what he had for breakfast. the boy scoffs as you freeze, rendered speechless with your lips parted dumbly. “geez, you’re acting like this is new information,” he deadpans.

in his head, you’d always known of his little-not-so-little crush, but just decided to stay quiet in hopes of not breaking his heart — which he secretly appreciated, even if it was the complete wrong approach to take.

meanwhile, you were spiralling. riki, as in nishimura riki — your idiotic neighbour, lifelong childhood friend, the boy who didn’t know that grass pokemon are useless against flying ones — liked you?

suddenly, you feel a demanding peck on your arm, which happens to be piplup sending you a ‘stop sitting there uselessly before something flies into your mouth’ glare.

you gulp, making hesitant eye contact with him. “i- i really didn’t know, how- when?” you exclaim desperately.

before your answers could be retrieved, the hospital room’s door is pulled open, revealing a handsome young male with jet black hair and sunglasses. a varsity jacket covers his built figure, along with a navy backpack thrown over his left shoulder. his features and demeanour were all extremely sharp and intimidating, which you suppose matches the charmeleon that follows close behind him.

the boy removes his eyewear, surveying you up and down before doing the same to riki and releasing an amused chuckle. “finally. you newbies were out all night.”

riki grunts. “who are you?”

“call me jay, the one who saved your asses.” he explains, leaning up against the wall with crossed arms. “which reminds me, you little dorks owe me big time. took me and my buddy here lot’s of energy turning those pidgeys into dinner.” his tone was too difficult to read to assume he was kidding around, no matter how aggressively charmeleon growled in agreement.

you and riki shared a disbelieving look while jay lets out a yawn, completely unaffected by your lack of response. “y’know, i wouldn’t mind a cash reward too.”

“sorry for the trouble, and thank you,” you gulp. “i had some in my bag i think, you can—“

another round of laughter cuts you off. “i’m playing with you guys, it’s all good. how about you repay me by accepting the poor guy’s confession? i heard there’s a great first date spot up in sandgem town.” riki’s eyes widen at that, an embarrassing tint of red reaching his ears at the idea of the older male listening in on the past few minutes.

relievingly, a doctor shows up moments later. “sir, i’m sorry to interrupt, but we need to check on these patients in a minute.”

before his fortunate departure, jay sends one more glance between the both of you, winking at riki and leaving a teasing salute behind.

it was awkwardly silent once he was gone.

until once again, piplup delivers a gentle but demanding peck to your arm, snapping you out of your daze. you swallow in determination, attempting to build your confidence as you sit further up in bed. “riki, i—“

“it’s okay,” the male swiftly intervenes, “you don’t have to say anything, i already know you don’t—“

“riki!”

he flinches slightly at your raise in volume, sending you a bewildered glare. “what?!”

“geez, i like you too, idiot.” you get a blank stare in response for a good minute, which only comes to an end once a proud, approving chirp from piplup snaps him out of it. riki swallows, clearly not prepared for such an outcome judging by his hands that fidget with each other endearingly.

“oh,” he replies uselessly, ignoring the headbutt turtwig punishes him with moments after.

of course that was all he had to say.

you roll your eyes, hopping off your bed to begin searching through your backpack. it’d be better to simply change the subject if he’s going to react like this, isn’t it?

“jay mentioned something about sandgem being the next town, and that only means one thing. we’re all the way back in twinleaf. so i guess we’ll have to—“ when you look up from the map, you freeze at the view of riki standing in front of you, holding a look in his eye that differs from any one that he’s given you previously. he reaches for the map and places it gently on the bed, taking another step closer to your figure.

your breath immediately hitches. despite the messiest bed-head imaginable, bloody bandages, and his outfit being nothing but an unappealing hospital gown, your best friend never failed to look good, and it was about time you pointed it out. “y/n, do you mean it?”

you didn’t need to ask to understand what he meant. “yeah.. do you?”

before you knew it, your jaw was being cupped ever so softly by his palm, and when you didn’t reject his touch, riki leaned down to connect his lips with yours. it wasn’t rushed or frantic — no, your reckless best friend managed to kiss you so gently, you think he’s imagining you poof-ing into the thin air if he moved any rougher. his other hand attempts to bring you closer by the waist, but the action only results in a pained hiss due to the bandage-clad injuries decorating his skin.

pulling away reluctantly, you reach up to squeeze his shoulder while desperately attempting to hide your giddy smile. “y’know, i always imagined you’d be a messy kisser.”

riki smirks. “i can be if you want me to, dummy.”

at the sound of his nickname that you’ve annoyingly got accustomed to, you pout. “you’re really still gonna call me that?”

his lips press against yours once more, effectively shooing your pout away. “of course, you think being your boyfriend would make me change or something?”

huffing, you reach down to put the map back into your backpack, accepting defeat. “whatever, we should get out of here before the doctors come.”

“okay.. wait,” riki’s eyes brighten mischievously, immediately sending a worried expression to your face. “so.. you’ve imagined kissing me?”

shit.

“…piplup, use water gun.”

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