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my-jokes-are-my-armour · 9 months

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The witcher review - part 2

So here we are… this is the hardest post for me to write. Because I have to fight my inner rage to think straight and keep as much of cool as I can while I write. This is rare.

As always since the announcement, the general consensus is to hate no matter what, and I won't lie, it's driving me crazy. I had even a breaking point not long ago, stumbling on an "article" mourning Hector the horse that won't come back for S4, and turning a not returning actress as she left the boat for implicite bad scripts whereas her character is simply not returning story wise (in the books also).

Do I have to mention the constant rain of bad comments on every video or official posts ? Or the vast majority of the articles and reviews are over focused on one thing only, erasing from the existence of every other good work done ?

Because yes ! Curiously there is good work in there too. Sheer stupefaction ! The series is not that bad. And do you believe it ? Quite book accurate in the global storyline also !

Am I a tad sarcastic there ? Yes. Not in my points though. But I am really REALLY pissed off. And this is my last stand. I understand that I am a drop in the ocean. A little shit screaming into the void. A stupid arse loving the series for the stories it offers.

So… if you are still here, that's because you surely are in the same state of mental exhaustion than I am. Maybe angry too, or sad. Maybe you liked the series also and want something else to read other than "burn it down !".

[Pretty accurate representation of myself]

So... Here is the short version for those who don't care about the development of my review :

I loved it. Yes !

A lot of emotions.

Geraskier. I rolled down the hill again so hard and so fast that you can see burning traces on the grass on my path lol.

Buckled some storylines from the first season for the main characters and secondary characters too.

Perfect ? Certainly not. There are problems and I will address them.

Book accurate ? Mostly yes but no at the same time. The story is there, not told the same way. There are twists and changes but the checkpoints are validated and cohesive (believe it or not), catching up books threads and the divergent series' too. Some almost straight out of the pages in this second part too.

Proper send off to Henry ? If you aim for fulfillment, then no. But his ending matches with the beginning of the Hansa, so I am personally happy with it. Also it had more depth than what it seems.

So now behind this break, I will spoil the series in great lengths, as much as the books. I will probably go further than Time of Contempt because they included pieces from Baptism of Fire. Again I will say what works and what doesn't in my opinion. I am not on a solo thread of thinking.

But you know I guess even some gray is giving light in this infamous soup darkness. So let's go !

Warning : it contains mature subjects.

[Important note : I have read the RI article about Tomek giving explanations about plot simplification. I will address this in the flow in my review. Well kinda].

My detailed general point of view :

Even with a lot of twists and turns, I did like the series part 2 (and the series overall !). The second volume had me having emotional roller-coasters. If you care for any characters, they have their moments of raw emotions. Secondary characters included. That moment between Fringilla and Francesca for example or Tissaia's farewell… 😢.

Everything emotional with Jaskier had just me on my knees… 😭

It goes pretty much by the books in terms of events and uses pieces of them as framing devices. For the twists. Some are good, some less. What we have the most is one character doing something another would normally do. But most of the time this is fluid and it doesn't bother me much. Mostly I liked, loved even, the stories that were told behind.

In the middle ground. I don't see it as bad but more as an irritating thing.

There is a big change of plot with Yennefer (again) but this is more a problem of how to tell the story afterwards more than a big wrong like in S2, and I am just curious how they will handle some storylines from there. The irritating part though is that they have a tendency to use her too much for everything, so she runs everywhere. This is quite frantic in episode 6 but then it slows down fortunately.

Also the series doesn't fully go on the darkest side of the books. The rating 16+ is a bit overlooked in my opinion. There is blood and some monsters but this is a soft 16+. There is real gore in the books and the subjects are far more disturbing. The flesh monster tries to compensate for what is not told about Vilgefortz's experiments for example. But the mage is a f.cking lunatic. And if you felt bad for Geralt after his fight with him, go get some brutal internal pov of Geralt while he is literally destroyed. Also a part of Geralt's arc with the parallel with Ciri is more disturbing in its core. But they didn't go as far as with the Rats (yet ?) so they crafted another motivation, which is not a bad one, by the way.

This is middle ground to me because, for sure it would have challenged the viewer more, but some subjects may not be easily validated to show on screen to fill the rating.

On the wrong side (yes because I am not in a tunnel - I see goods and bads), for me there are some strong editing problems that put an uneven rhythm that can bore or frustrate, depending on the part. I was not bored but a bit frustrated sometimes so I can understand why some were annoyed, let's put it that way.

They seem to rush for the plot, cutting some breathing moments or dragging on some other parts. With a recurrent issue to make us feel the passage of time

For me this is what severes the series the most, especially in the second volume.

Also, on the visual effects, there are some issues too. Something is sadly unfinished there. It feels like the deadline was an immovable obstacle and they tried to rush everything they could in it.

So, here we are. Now I will detail everything ! Compare with the books when I can etc. Because I can't bear anymore reading all this dry "they did not respect the source material" thing, to say it politely. Maybe I will be annoying as hell. But this is how I work. I have feelings, I have opinions, like everyone else I can be passionate, but I can justify my position and I will do it.

SO !

Book accuracy ?

First, because I have to play dumb, these are the large blocks of the Time of Contempt only, just to have a visual idea of the proportions of the stories.

So now please tell me there is too much of Ciri, too much mages, too much politics… ** cough cough **

OK let's go. As I said in the short version, accuracy is a yes and a no for me. Let's begin with the no.

Things happen pretty much in the same chronological order but like in an alternate version of the books. In some events, this is not always with the good character carrying the moment. But this is the case from the beginning of the show. And although I found this strange sometimes I never felt confused by it. Some of them are necessary compression of narratives, some are holding arcs to fulfill and become relevant at the end. And the arcs, the stories told, are what appealed to me the most.

A large part of those switches comes from the invented parts for secondary characters. Because they had written things in advance. Why did they choose to set up a lot of them from S1, you say ? Because otherwise we would have to deal with a massive drop names with everyone having their agenda, popping out of nowhere, and trying to have the big part of the cake this season (2 to 4 in my picture). What would happen then ? Confused audience for those who haven't read the books or play the games. And if you tell me, but we are the audience ! Then why I read so many : "Why the politics ? Why Ciri desert thing ? Why the sorceresses ? This is boring and long, why no monster hunts ?" Well… 👆.

At least, I can understand the last statement from the gamers because the story is rhythmed by the hunts, but for the rest, lads, this is the book for Time of Contempt and a part of Baptism of Fire.

And this where my "yes this is accurate" lands.

Time of Contempt particularly contains a f.cking loads of politics, of mages and a lot of Ciri. Sure Geralt is the main POV in a good amount but in the politics part for the most of it. This is basically him in rooms with people, discussing. He doesn't do much other than that. To be fair, there are always good fights, he has always good fights, and this books provides, but the monster fights are not that over present and overall, Geralt is reluctant to kill in general except when he has to protect. He fights people… The real monsters of the stories.

What did I find book accurate in this second volume ? The Thanedd coup setup (the battle is almost pure entertainment). Ciri in the desert, definitely. Some parts of Brokilon. Tissaia's death is delayed in time but accurate. Dijkstra and Philippa general plot in Redania even if simplified. The false Ciri at Nilfgaard. Geralt on the road with Jaskier and Milva at the end.

The issues

As I said, for me the problem is really the choice of pacing that makes some parts feeling dragged and others rushed. Particularly in episode 7. This is the most book accurate part with Ciri, but the pacing of what is before and after makes it odd. She is the only one we feel the passing of time for. The Brokilon part almost not. But technically days had passed too.

I understand what they did there, trying to make us feel her isolation, but putting two parts with different rhythms together that way was what makes it crumble. Making a parallel between Ciri's struggle and Geralt's would have maybe corrected the pacing, and just having scenes with places, travel from afar, something that links the time and space with the characters (they did that a bit with the first episode and that was great !). But distance and time is an ongoing problem on this show.

Speaking of time, note that in the books Geralt stays a long time in Brokilon healing. A month like. And he was in a very bad shape for a long time during this period. This is for those who are unhappy to have him stuck in a bed moaning for too long.

Then the last episode has the major shift from the book with Yennefer. The birth of the Lodge of the sorceresses has one of the best ending arcs and the most twisted storyline with dragged moments. I am not against Yennefer being in the heart of the Lodge with Philippa doing her things on the side, because I understand that having that part told without main character to connect with would be hard for a lot of people but the fact that Yennefer is used has a plot insert too many times irritates me.

The scene where she heals Geralt for example is one that I don't like. In terms of emotions, this is great. But for Geralt this is wrong. I hope the healing is not complete, for S4, like in the books. Because the fact that he is experiencing phantom pain is a part that makes his journey psychologically interesting.

Now, that said !

And this is where I'll develop the good parts for me. And I am sorry if I become (even) more sarcastic but you know… I do what I can with my bleeding heart in front of so much hatred.

The arcs

This is where a lot of people sadly give reason to Tomek about the need for simplification, in my opinion.

They did simplify the plots, true that, but as soon as there are some under layers to dig, this is the big farewell of the crowd. Because I read things like : volume 2 is empty. Geralt is barely in it or without depth. They did wrong to him.

Know that if they really had stopped where Time of Contempt ends, then you would have just Ciri in the desert and the Rats. Final dot (cf my picture).

And if this is empty to you, maybe this is because you've erased the plotlines from your memory, or defining a character the way it is done in the book is not for you.

The series plays with circular references and mirroring characterisation but I guess this is unimportant. Lazy. Irrespectful. Uncaring. Or whatever. Because this is not forefront.

Maybe you wanted more than a rampage at a post frontier and the walk into the mist. I can understand that this is not satisfying in terms of fulfillment for his presence, I really can, but there is closure for his arc too in there.

But maybe you missed the full circle in this part of the journey for him too. And if you didn't. Maybe you don't care. I don't know...

I am not above anybody else. I watch things with my own perspective. Maybe you think I am stupid or currently arrogant or overlooking things. So be it. I am the stupid one then. I don't mind. But I'll do it anyway. I'll do my shitty analysis. So many scream. I have the right to stand my ground for what I appreciate. Who would read this anyway…

So let's get into the thematics and dig everyone's plotlines, shall we. I will divide this into parts and develop many characters through those aspects.

Blood family vs found family

Vulnerabilities

Loyalty and betrayal

Clinging onto the past and repeating history

Blood family vs found family

In the last part of S3, several characters have a defining moment about family. And they are mirroring each other within their relationships. They have been setup early in the previous seasons.

The accent is put on the found families and how strong their links are. For some more than blood. And then how sometimes, blood heritage goes against that.

We have obviously THE found family. Ciri, Yennefer and Geralt, extended to Jaskier (thank god!). They have all left their blood family behind. Book Jaskier not totally but the series one seems to.

The trio of Destiny as I like to call them, are three orphans linked by destiny but fighting it in the first place. This is only when they accept it that the family emerges. And this is a strong one. Their issues with their blood family define a part of their actions and how they grow.

Geralt was abandoned. In response to that trauma he printed in himself the will of never to do that to Ciri ever ! (vol 1). Even in the letter he wrote to Yennefer, he tells her that this is the first time he experiences real fear. And this fear is to lose Ciri and her… Losing against Vilgefortz made this fear a reality. So now in Brokilon when he is trying to walk back to Ciri even when he can't is the display of his desperation. He has to accept that despair first so he can heal enough to actually have a chance to succeed. This desperation transforms into rage that can burst at any time. He is calm on the surface, but a boiling volcano inside.

White Knight complex and neutrality (side note). In S1, in Blaviken we established that Geralt has a white knight complex and he tells the story to Renfri of how he chose neutrality, telling her a story that illustrates that. He saved a young girl from a rapist. And while he thought he did the right thing he ended up being the one treated like a monster. That is why he chooses not to get involved again. Renfri's story showed him that not taking a side was impossible but he sticked with it anyway. Neutrality became his mojo and tried to live with that, even teaching it to Ciri. Renfri's broach was a reminder of that silent promise he made to himself. And the Thanedd coup is the pinnacle of that resolution and desire to protect. Till the end he won't pick a side. But when he failed against Vilgefortz everything crumbled.

The last scene we have with him, that rampage doesn't come from nowhere as a lot likes to think. The soldier suggests he would rape the girl. And that's what triggered his rage. Yeah the same story that made him who he was… I guess this stupid and empty…

The broach he leaves behind is the symbol of the neutrality he abandons. He is a man with a huge scar inside and the only thing that can soothe him is finding his daughter.

Jaskier says it out loud beforehand in case you would miss what to come : the war outside is nothing in front of what Geralt would unleash on this Continent to find his daughter.

The arc of neutrality is closed. Time for a new one. A hurt dad, a warrior, roaming the Continent to find the child he promised never to abandon. No depth at all in the writing of this arc… yep yep.

But this is not the only layer of Geralt. We will see that in another point.

Now Yennefer. She has the easiest arc to get. Her blood family sold her and in her struggle to get control over her own life she hurt the two found families she had. First Tissaia whose mother side became apparent when she had to take the same responsibilities with Ciri. Then Geralt and Ciri when she succumbs to Voleith Meir. But her redemption arc fulfills her need to be a mother. Even if she fails finding Ciri and leaves that task to Geralt (which is a plot hole in a way*), she comes full closure with her motherhood duties.

And she has a beautiful and powerful new goal and it is turned toward the found family. She will make sure to make the world a better place for her to return to. Isn't that some of the strongest push parents can experience ? The need to make the world better for their children ?

(*) In the books, Yennefer is incapacitated so it is logical that she is unable to find her. Here they will need to find a good explanation.

The arc of Yennefer circles and mirrors the one with Tissaia in a very emotional way. For a part, this is one the lesson she gave to Ciri and the one she took so long to understand. Without control, power is nothing. When you have control you can move mountains.

The first day in Aretusa, Yennefer tries to commit suicide because she feels that taking her own life is the only thing she can control. Tissaia tells her that doing so, she didn't have control, she was losing it. And the rectoress did the exact same thing at the end… (she lets go for other reasons though)

Ciri is at the core of the found family and she lost every one of her blood family. Emhyr is the last one and you can't say this is a nice perspective. Yet she doesn't know. Then she grew being afraid of her own heritage. Her bloodline is terrifying to her and makes her feel like a monster. And she is trying to make the best of it, expressing idealistic thoughts and wishes.

The found family is her last grip on feeling safe and having a life. She clings onto them with everything she has. She is so afraid to lose them too. And… it happens. Her mojo is to find them.

Hallucinating, in the desert she confronts her blood ancestors who push every button of her insecurities. When she relinquishes her powers, this is her last stand to protect her found family from herself. She doesn't want to be Falka and burn the world down and them with it.

But then when she kills for the first time, she loses herself. The importance of a life was one of the last of Geralt's lessons, but she succumbs to a penchant to like killing (see her face when she killed the echnea) buried deep inside, exactly like Falka. That's why she chooses to call herself after her.

For those who find this too easy, that she should be used to visions and not break. OK then, get in the same state of desperation, get lost in a desert for days, hallucinate and try to stay strong. Too long ? I thought she broke easily…

One of the things that was so touching, on the first part of that desert wandering, was how much she tapped into her found family teachings. Geralt and her witcher brothers for survival skills. Yennefer for magic. And Jaskier… for comfort.

So now Jaskier. He is a different kind of protector. We don't know much of his past in the series to know about his siblings and past traumas but the found family is everything to him. This season proves it even more blatantly. He chose Geralt as his family very early on but the real turn into a proper family member dynamic appears with Ciri. The fun uncle or even big brother.

From S2, we saw him develop a strong protector side to his personality. He is willing to help those in need. The elves. Yennefer… Also he kind of protects Geralt, even under torture. S3, within the found family he isn't the strongest member. The weakest we could say. But we see that protector side to him, in the fights for example. Helping the wounded to get to safety. Or pushing people out of the way (Valdo or the last fight with Geralt). Or even helping Radovid returning home after a heartbreak...

Ciri has the strongest protectors possible. Geralt and Yennefer. And they are teaching her their skills. She has enormous latent power. What can a simple bard do ?

Answer : he protects the last drop of childhood she has. He is the one she can be a normal child with. Playing games, even having fun of the parents (lessons of smiling, imitating them in the wood,...). He is a confort person that grounds her in her normality.

Being a comfort. This is what he does in the found family. For each member. But this is particularly moving to witness for that lost child. And hearing her sing the song he sings to her to help her sleep, trying to stay strong in the desert, tells how much he was important to her too.

The trio of Destiny isn't the only one that struggles between blood family and found family. We have other characters that are much defined by this dichotomy. Like Milva, Dara, Fringilla and Francesca.

For Milva, we just understand that her found family is the dryads, whatever happened to her and wants to forget. Dara has lost all his blood family because of one of Calanthe's army's raids. His found family is the elves led by Francesca, with whom he has a feeling of being with his kind again, until he understands the path she is taking will just send him in a very bad place. He is tired and tries to rebuild himself with the dryades.

Both of them highlight what is nursing inside of Geralt, for us to understand his last fight. Dara speaks about the hatred he carries and is going to destroy him if he doesn't stop. Milva makes him speak about Renfri and his neutrality paradox.

This is not a sign of erasing a character to make others speak in his presence and having some kind of defining moment. That character then reflects on the other, defining him by a mirroring effect. Sometimes in the same way, sometimes in the opposite direction. Heroes don't have to always say things out loud for that to exist in them. Maybe some thought that Dara and Milva were taking the spot. I did not.

Now for Fringilla and Francesca this is a bit more complex. And for them, they go down the other way around for a long time. Blood family first.

It begins with Fringilla whose uncle is a member of the Brotherhood. The magic school isn't much of a found family to her as she has an anchor there. After Yennefer switches kings with her, she ends up in Nilfgaard having a totally different life. She built strong links there and in a way she found guidance and purpose. While she tries to serve her emperor she meets the elves and makes a very strong friendship with Francesca. She begins to move forward and that alliance blossoms into something inspiring. Especially when she saves the elven bady.

But as soon as this baby is born, the loyalty of the elves shakes and what I believe was her kind of found family begins to drift away. Francesca says to her that she values their friendship but blood is more important. Fringilla will try to find the support of her uncle at some point but he refuses to help her.

This is when Fringilla becomes independent.

The rupture is particularly strongly displayed in S3 when she watches her uncle die without any feeling for him.

On the contrary, Francesca sticks by blood first at all coast, and she loses everyone brutally. Not that she is wrong or anything else to be that attached to her kind. This is just the way it turns out for her. And by the end of it, learning that Fringilla hid the real murderer of her baby, she ends up pushing her from her life, severing the last link of possible family outside her kind. She is alone with her vengeance burning inside of her. Pretty much like Dara described it. Pretty much like an old part elf woman who let the rage consume her… Mirrors again.

Vulnerabilities

Maybe the biggest character who shows vulnerabilities and is able to demonstrate love is Jaskier. This is the obvious one. And I will probably make a separate post analyzing him and Radovid this season, because the games of masks plays a big role in Jaskier defense mechanism. Let's just say for the sake of this f.cking review that this so empty relationship for the majority is there to help us understand how and when he hides his feelings, how he speaks of real love…

He is probably the most open character to emotions and shows us a lot, but, even he, tries to hide his wounds to the others. For others.

So emotional shock after another, we can assess the damages and how strong he is for those he loves.

His main weakness, if I can call it that way, is his biggest strength too. Empathy. Makes him feel too much. And his love for others (especially Geralt) plunges him in deep vulnerable emotional states. This season, this is still the case, and to a great extent too. Don't get fooled by his levity, jokes and smiles.

But let's take a look at our trio of Destiny.

Ciri is vulnerable and afraid at first but she learns to hide it more and more, until everything is unveiled during Thanedd and the desert. She is so damaged by her abandon issues and she is living her worst nightmare. When she hallucinates, all of her ancestors push her buttons, poking at this particular pain she holds.

Yennefer has many issues and she is a insecure person empowered with strong chaos. We saw her struggle to free herself from everyone wanting to control her in S1, and on top of that to have her powers back in S2. That internal urge to be the one deciding about her own destiny, to be able to have a choice.

She goes to great lengths for that. Too far. Yennefer gives Ciri two valuable lessons based on her experiences. One about control and power. The other about making choices and their consequences.

And one thing I appreciate and shows growth in her character is that she lets the one she loves see when she is vulnerable and talk about it. Ciri, Geralt, Tissaia. Even Jaskier in her own ways, since S2.

But one of the biggest growth in that field is Geralt. If I wished they included more of the book's vulnerabilities early on for him (about the fact that he believes that his mutant condition excludes him to be worth his own emotions), they didn't cut it all and he had other vulnerabilities and insecurities worth the growth.

He is emotionally constipated and has problems expressing his feelings. Not the hiding part, when he is like, I am a rock, I don't feel, but more when he has to communicate his feelings.

In S1, he tries and fails with Yennefer at the mountain. But he shows a great deal of emotions, at the expense of Jaskier though. In S2, to help Ciri he has to open up. And we find him having deep introspective moments with Vesemir. Likewise, he is a bit more open to Jaskier with whom he shares his fears.

But in S3, for the first time, he expresses his feelings and exposes his vulnerabilities to Yennefer and they connect deeply then. Also when he is wounded and healing, he is open raw for a moment.

After that he brings back his kind of neutral face, but the last fight is one of the moments he bleeds what's inside.

Also like in the books, they show that even a character that strong can be broken.

This failure brings a lot out of Geralt for the future. He wants to die because of it ! He refuses healing because he wanted to die ! The only thing that kept him alive was to have news of Ciri and Yennefer. When Jaskier finally arrives (days after) this is what he asks only. He just wants to go knowing that they are well. He clutches Jaskier's wrist because he is his last hope to have this news. He empathises with him as he struggles to deliver the informations (that subtle stroke) but he needs to know. This is a silent "please tell me Jaskier".

Then he chooses to accept the healing when he knows Ciri is still in danger. He won't rest until she is safe.

But I get that the consensus is right. Moaning in a bed. Boring as fuck. No depth in it either.

Loyalty and betrayal

Here again I could speak for days about Jaskier. His portrait should be in the dictionary next to the definition of loyalty. Even in his faux pas, he doesn't betray because his heart is in the right place. When Geralt confronts him trying to push him to Redania, they simply have an honest discussion about it.

I could speak about Yennefer's betrayal also, trying to sacrifice Ciri in S2. But I wanna highlight some secondary characters that have arcs around this.

The first one is Cahir. At the beginning of the series, he is the definition of loyalty to his leader. He has almost a religious faith (S2). But the mission given to him leads him on a path to lose that faith. In S3, he is trying to get back to a position where Emhyr valued him, and he goes to the point of killing a friend to get there. The broken mirror symbolizes that moment of shift.

(This part I could have put in vulnerabilities but I won't come back on the character sonI put it all there)

He is mirroring Ciri in his fears. She had nightmares about him. He has nightmares about her. When they face, they face their own fears. When Ciri cannot kill him he kind of pledged her allegiance, setting up his obsession to join de Hansa to save her (they may drop the weird attraction thankfully).

For him to work fully, we needed maybe one more scene between the Thanedd coup and fighting with Ciri. This is Emhyr's lie about Fringilla's death and her last little push, telling him to think by himself, that cut the last string attaching him to his emperor. But Cahir cannot live that way. What he has done is too much, he needs to be free from his guilt. Hence he asks Ciri to take his life as a price to pay for the sufferings he caused her.

But this is not how she thinks (yet) and vengeance is not her solution. Winning the fight was enough for her to overcome her fear about him. She won a silent battle.

Cahir needs redemption so he goes by the only way he knows. He devotes himself to her. This can seem blurry because he has very little screen time this season. But here we are.

Francesca is loyal to her blood kind, but trying to find a way for her species to survive she betrays some of them, losing progressively the faith people have in her. The last one to have an undefective trust in her is Filavendrel because they share the same pain, I guess.

The dramatic turn for her is that she has to sacrifice the squirrels in order to save the others. So she kind of betrays them all at that point.

Though one of her last biggest sad moments is when Fringilla tells her the truth about Emhyr. The last scene they have together is hard. All is not black and white though we can understand Francesca's deep emotion and feeling of betrayal. This is not fair for Fringilla and this settles the down path for the queen of elves.

In the secondary characters we could play all day with Dijkstra and Philippa in terms of loyalty and betrayal. The frontiers are so blurred between them two. Dijkstra is loyal to Redania to a sick extent. Philippa plays by her own rules to the point that it is unclear who she is loyal to.

But the last but not least big loyalty betrayal moment goes to Vilgefortz and Tissaia.

Technically Vilgefortz is loyal to no-one. But he played for so long with Tissaia… Their story is the evil side of what could have been Geralt and Yennefer's if Yennefer had been truly malevolent. Tissaia is echoing the deepest hurt in Geralt's heart and rewinding everything why Geralt took so long to forgive Yennefer.

(Tissaia was way more developed in the series than in the books to help building the emotions for what is lost and internal struggles for other characters)

Clinging onto the past and repeating history

That you liked it or not, despite being not lore accurate, BO has a lot of circleling and mirroring meta. Elves being the oppressors of dwarves, and humain becoming the oppressor of everyone less. Or the funny parallels between the couple Eile/Fall and Jaskier/Geralt.

The simple story of Merwyn is an example that repeats itself in history. Francesca being her mirror through the length of another elven legend.

The elven queen is one character that is very changed from the books and has a strange setup for later parts with the lodge. But she echoes some other characters, and stories. There was a symbol in S2 with the white rose that was a foreshadowing of what would happen to her as it echoed Sherraewedd of whom we learn the legend of in S3. The same way that elven warrior did, she is the one that may lead her kind of a new path of extinction, sacrificing the squirrels to Emhyr for a land for the rest of them… Cintra in place of Dol Blathanna.

And in the same way if Merwyn who had the well being of her people in mind she clings too long onto legends of the past. Willing to find a new home for them.

Btw, she is set up as a vengeresse willing to burn the world down as everything she loved was taken from her. Does she not remind you of someone who could now do the same for his found family ?

She is the circling history for a part of elven history.

For the human part, still connected to the elves though we have Falka whose story is set up in S2 and nourishes Stregobor hatred. That burning hatred is seen in many characters with the effect it has on them. Ciri relinquishing her powers in order to prevent falling in that pit too is a first step to break the cycle but what is waiting for her is a pit of darkness.

Also we have Istredd the historian that digs to unveil the mystery around the monolithes. Very quickly said in S3 but he knows about the book of Monoliths. Vilgefortz knows already about it and he is yet to unlock their power. That's why he made Istredd prisoner during the coup. That mystery is one of the key component to BO story and the Wild Hunt that is now leaking in our dimension.

And those monoliths were there before the elves came. Dwarves and gnomes venerated them.

I know people are mad about this but I think this is an easy visual anchor for the gates between realities. And if you read the books you know who can travel through dimensions… So yeah. We are circling again there with this.

And now the Thanedd coup is the shock that finally destroys the old system but nothing emerges except chaos and favors Emhyr's. The wipe of the Brotherhood is also a not too subtle nudge to women getting free from patriarchy. In this battle we see the oldest and the male fall one after another. And in this mayhem I have to admit I loved Stregobor last stand. Delightfully twisted and satisfying.

Now there is one final point because one member of the old system has survived a little bit longer…

Tissaia has a bunch of lost children under her care. Every one of them rejects the model she is trying to preserve. She believes in the fragile peace they have created and maintained with the Brotherhood.

Fringilla sees another way with Emhyr and believes in his goal for quite some time, until she has the chance to evolve by herself and she discovers the true face of the emperor.

Working with Dijkstra, Philippa sees the crack in the old system. And she sees the opportunity to take a new turn as it crumbles.

Yennefer doesn't care about the system. She wants to regain control over her life. And she opposes Tissaia on a personal level. But doing so she adds cracks into the walls. She reconnects with her mentor when she becomes a mother to Ciri, seeing finally the mother in her she always has been. Yennefer doesn't protect the old system, fighting by Tissaia's side, she is fighting for her.

The final push that lead Tissaia to commit suicide is Yennefer saying that she is their mother and that they need her. Her children don't need her anymore. She is just a relic of the past. Because they love her, they cling onto her. But they have to fly. We see her abandoning her severe mask and going soft, accepting to lose control. She cuts herself the last string that holds them to the old system. And the Lodge of the Sorceresses is that : a new power emerging from the ashes of the old one.

And there so many other little parallels that I wish I would speak about. Little pieces for us to dig and get the layers under those characters. I didn't even get into the political part. But I have to stop somewhere because I am too long...

OK but why pointing out that repeating history, the past parasitizing the present, all the time. We are going nowhere. Do you think ?

Nenneke said to Ciri that she could be the key to ending the circle of hatred and the young woman idealized it. She doesn't know how. But she wants to put an end to all this. Does she succeed ?

Well I guess that no-one cares now.

The circle of hatred had won on this side of the spheres so...

Empty, without soul, unnecessary, diversity garbage, unfaithful, no actor good enough except one… you are so many so it means you must be right. But still I love this show. I can't help it.

I hope someone would appreciate the effort of the underlying structure of my garbage. Circle and parallels...

#tws3 #i am sometimes passive agressive in there so be warn #critical #both good and bad #spoiler i love the show #if someone has the courage to read all this....#(i wish it was not limited to 10 pictures)#my potato gifs #long post #review

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mychemikuromance · 9 months

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you know what having anxiety and having intrusive thoughts AND having a vivid imagination really does just cause me to torture myself with dumb shit

#j talks #i imagine the worst things for no reason #i have disturbing imagery just linger in my head #and i convince myself to be scared of silly little video games i don't even play :D #i am going to scream forever #anyways...no wonder my sleep has been so shit recently #part of me wants to completely cut out any sort of horror things and another part of me is like. nah keep em #maybe i can learn to live with them better #i think it's funny tho bc i find shit like dead by daylight not scary at all and even like. idk.#like real life scenarios of terrible things happening do haunt me but NO #the image of a character i made up or some fucking. made up character someone else made. no. that's what's gonna keep me up at night right #a drawing of a creepy looking anime girl right that's what's gonna keep me up right???????#i'm so tired of this shit LMFAO #half laughing at myself half like. why are you like this #anyways. thanks for reading my suffering i guess.#i really want to go downstairs and get water i just need to get the courage to do so ahhhhhhh

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diomedrian · 2 years

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Something about middle aged people finding love...hm...makes my world go round

#whole life #personal #ok so now that im free. thats cos i don't want romance right now. i dont think I'd want it for another decade or so #but i happen to love romance i love being grossly in love with someone and touching knees and secret stares and everything!!#i have had romantic love before and I'd definitely want it again (not smth to settle w but maybe for two years i am 38 or whatever)#and i loved it. i ABSOLUTELY love the rush the calm the courage of it all. i know i dont want it permanently. (bc the center of my jigsaw #is v Different and I love it more i love it fiercely) BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN IN THE YEARS TO COME I WOULDN'T ENJOY HANDING OVER A CUP OF #COFFEE TO SOMEONE WHO HAS THEIR CLOTHES MIXED W MINE IN THE LAUNDRY BASKET YKNOW???#and i think I'd like that. I'd like romance for a while in my thirties or in my forties or any time later in life #and all these characters just give me a lot of hope that the world doesn't END at 20 or 30.#they get to do stupid stuff when they're 35 and they get to indulge #at 43 and they get little adventures at 57. and i just love love love the idea of and iyeah ok this started as a romance #thing but i think its INCREDIBLE THAT MIDDLE AGED PEOPLE DO FUN STUFF AND WATCHING OR READING ABOUT THAT MAKES LIFE A LITTLE MORE BEARABLE #BC WE DO HAVE TIME. WE SHOULD ENJOY. AGE IS IRRELEVANT (except sometimes ofc)

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drdemonprince · 7 months

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If you’ve never been all that disobedient before, you can and should start really, really small. For example, you can wear the slightly revealing or gloriously trashy-looking garment that makes your mom roll her eyes and sigh despondently every time she sees you put it on. You will feel judged and disapproved of when you put it on, but that is fine. Your goal is to sit with the uncomfortable feelings and continue with your desired behavior anyway. Saunter down the steps in that highlighter-yellow Garfield crop top with your chest hair flowing over the neckline, and harness as much courage as you can muster. It’s okay if you feel like a beacon of sin. Just keep it moving. Your emotions are not the target here. Your behavior is. You can feel however you are feeling in the moment so long as you keep acting like you’re free. Do you have a favorite TV show that a partner or roommate vocally hates? Try watching that show around them without apologizing or defensively joining them in mocking the program. At first, you probably won’t be able to enjoy the show while in their presence. You’ll feel self-conscious about everything they find annoying or cringe-inducing about the show, and so focused on their reactions that you can’t relax. That’s okay. Allow those feelings of embarrassment and guilt to exist and pass through you without giving up. In time, you will be able to ignore these reactions more, and enjoy the activity. You want to see the needle of discomfort moving down just a little, like Link’s body temperature meter in Tears of the Kingdom when he puts on a breathable outfit in a hot climate. You’re not gonna go from roiling hot to frosty cold in an instant. But after a certain point, you won’t be actively in pain anymore. Things are just gonna slowly suck less, bit by bit, until they are finally okay. That’s true of most major life adjustments, I find. Probably the best way to develop self-advocacy skills while growing in your distress tolerance is simply by telling other people no. Do this without explanation or hedging. Nitpicky aunt wants to hear all about your dating life? “No, I don’t want to talk about that.” Unreliable ex-friend wants you to do them the tiny favor of moving their entire home gymnasium into a new third story walk-up? “No, I’m not available.” Manipulative shift supervisor wants to cajole you into sticking around for another three hours to close? “No.” As many advice columnists smarter than me have already intoned, “no” is a complete sentence. “No” requires no explanation. “No” is not subject to debate. “No” can be repeated over and over like a broken record if a disrespectful person acts like they can’t hear it. And you can walk away at any time to make your “no” physical and impossible to argue with, when someone has proven they don’t respect your boundaries.

you can read or listen to the full piece for free here

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s1m0nth3swag · 1 month

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Francis Mosses x GN!Reader

AUTHORS NOTE; Haven't written in a while, but thanks to Arlo, a friend (Hi Arlo, I know you're reading this), Inspiration about Francis Mosses struck (he bought me That's not my neighbor and then continued to freak out about Francis with me) so I wrote this. I have so many thoughts about Francis, so... tell me if you want more because i will deliver ngl. Enjoy (or don't, I don't dictate your feelings)

WARNINGS/ CONTENT INFO; Porn with little to no plot, Submissive Francis, a little non-consensual at the start (but not in a super weird way, imo?), Gender neutral reader (no pronouns used, tried to write as GN as possible with the compliments and thoughts about Readers appearance), not proofread nor have I thought about this much, more a drabble than an actual thoughtful story (not apologising because I had such a long break from writing anything and obviously it's gonna suck a little when I come back)

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

The first time Francis had realised that he hadn't gotten any touch from another human being was when someone brushed up against him on his way home from work. He had felt like a creep afterwards because he hadn't stopped thinking about what could've happened if the person hadn't moved away and had just stayed pressed against him. That was a week before you started your job as a doorman.

The second time Francis had noticed was when a friend of his had spoken to him on the phone, talking about his new girlfriend. Said friend gave too much intel on their sex life. Francis had wondered if he could have someone the way his friend explained - he quickly brushed the thought off. That was two days before you started working as a doorman.

The third time, he noticed when you had smiled at him. It was your first day, and he was tired from work. You had repeated his name after reading it off of his ID, and he had looked at you for the first time since his eyes kept falling closed, and you smiled so brightly. You had told him his name was nice, and you said it again. Francis swore that the way his name rolled off your tongue was the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. Not even an angel could sound more wonderful. Suddenly, he was a lot more energised. Totally not thanks to the fact that he had immediately grown hard the second he had seen your smile. He had gone to his apartment that night and had jerked off for the first time in probably months. He had always been too tired to previously, but now he couldn't stop thinking about how you'd sound moaning his name. Maybe you were more of a groaner, or you'd whimper and whine. He came as he imagined how you'd look sucking his dick.

Since then, Francis has always looked forward to entry checks. What had normally kept him away from his bed and a good night's sleep was now the best experience of his day. He loved the way you spoke to him even though he was too nervous to respond. Sometimes, he deliberately didn't show his ID at first, just so you'd ask about it, and he could listen to you talk a little more. He felt guilty about it. He knew you had never agreed to feed into this weird little obsession of his. It was awful of him to do this - have you talk to him enough to give him more scenarios to think about that night.

A few weeks after all this had started, Francis had built up the courage to finally ask you out. Just something simple, dinner at his place. He had to cook for himself all the time. Cooking for you as well wouldn't be too different, right?

Francis was wrong. He was anxious that the food wouldn't taste good and kept tasting it just so he could make sure it hadn't mysteriously switched tastes in the last 20 seconds. When you knocked on his door, he took a minute to make sure he didn't look like a mess - though you wouldn't mind either way since he always looked like a mess when he came through during your shifts.

You looked so good when he opened the door. Your hair fell perfectly, your lips looked a little too kissable, and Francis had to stop his train of thought just so he wouldn't embarrass himself by having yet another boner caused by just the way you looked. You were a little shorter than him, smiling up as he let you inside.

"You look good." He mumbled, his cheeks flushing. He seriously had to lay off thinking like a high-schooler. His nervousness and awkwardness were getting really annoying - to him, at least. You grinned, chuckling softly as you took off your shoes. "Thank you. You do as well." His heart for sure burst at that - he knew something else would burst as well if he didn't stop thinking right this second.

Throughout the evening, ignoring his thoughts came easier and easier. The two of you had eaten, you had told him he was a good cook, he had almost excused himself to the bathroom because of it. Now you were sitting on the couch, drinking wine and talking casually.

"You know, when you first walked through, I swore I would die." You giggled, looking at him with a mischievous look. Francis was confused by that statement. "How come?" He asked, tilting his head at you in question. "I was sure you were a doppelganger. You looked too handsome to be real." You cheekily answered, cheeks slightly flushed as you downed your wine. Francis blushed heavily, looked away from you, and thought about your words for a moment. The silence was loud as he wondered what to answer. "..you think I'm handsome?" He questioned while looking at the floor. If he had looked at you, he'd have seen the way you stared at him, your own cheeks coloured a deep red. "Extremely." You muttered. It took him a minute before he could look at you, but when he did, his lips pressed against yours in a desperate kiss.

When you reciprocated, Francis groaned and pulled you closer until you sat on his lap. He was just a tiny bit embarrassed when you gasped and felt his dick press against you. In all honesty, he had held back the entire night, and he was allowed a little selfishness. "Sorry. Can't help it." He muttered between kisses. You just grinned against his lips before grinding against him. A whimper fell from his lips - that was the moment he was actually embarrassed. "That's cute.." You had mumbled, a cheeky grin on your face as you started placing kisses against his jaw and neck. One of your hands trailed down his body to rest right over his crotch, Francis unconsciously bucked his hips up against your hand, whining. He didn't notice anything else as you caught the skin of his neck with your teeth carefully, leaving the softest bite mark on him. He shuddered at the feeling and gasped before realising that you had meanwhile unzipped his pants. A groan slipped from his lips as you ran a finger over his dick, still hidden from sight by his boxers, but god knows he would cum the second you'd touch it without. "Is this okay?" You asked him, and he nodded faster than he even knew he could. "Yes. God, yes. Please, please continue.." he muttered, his breathing heavy as he watched you slide off his lap, settling in front of him and between his legs. His dick twitched at the sight, and he let out a heavy sigh. Minutes later, his pants and boxers were discarded, and the way you looked up at him, his dick so close to your face, made Francis feel the way his orgasm was approaching way too quick. The second you wrapped your hand around him he whined pathetically, bucked up into your hand and knew that he'd definitely cum too soon. Your hand was so soft, cool against his hot flesh, and you worked his dick so good he almost thought you were a professional. He looked down at you through lidded eyes, watched the way you bit your lip, and grinned knowingly. "Such a pretty boy, huh?" You chuckled, and that definitely sealed the deal for Francis. He came, probably ruining his shirt as he dirtied both it and your hand. His heart stopped for a second when you licked your hand while looking up at him. "You didn't give me enough time to taste you properly. Don't look at me like that." You huffed, rolling your eyes at him. "You should probably take off your shirt so you can clean it later." You then winked. He swiftly shed the piece of clothing, entranced by your voice and the way you looked. "Sorry, didn't mean to cum that fast.." he mutters, his voice out of breath. "Jus'.. unused to... this.." he added, clearing his throat awkwardly. You laughed and shook your head. "Don't worry about it. We have all the time in the world to make you last longer. I'm gonna give you a real reason to be tired tomorrow." You winked.

Francis didn't even mind that he was in for a long night.

Your honour I am gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.

#francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #x reader #gn reader #thats not my neighbor #milkman x reader

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bratbby333 · 11 days

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i will possess your heart – satoru gojo

-this story contains very heavy nsfw content! please read at your own discretion!-

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 content warnings dead dove fic- heavy stalking, violent obsession, manipulation, forced voyeurism, forced exhibition, drugging, mentions of blood, knives, use of restraints, plot twist, dub-con 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 synopsis for as cocky as Satoru is, it’s oddly fitting. in his mind, everything belongs to him, including you. 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 word count 8k

Satoru fumbled with a tripod as he positioned his camera onto the stand and proceeded to hit record. He was thorough, making sure his chair was perfectly centered before he sat down, staring at himself in the viewfinder while he fussed with his hair, inhaling deeply. A wide grin cut across his face before dropping back into lackluster neutrality. He looked down at his lap, his fingers ran up and down his denim-clad thighs. He snapped back onto the camera blank-faced before a deranged smile pulled at his cheeks.

Click

January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point. I’m plagued by the shadows, my entire life enshrouded in darkness. I don’t remember what things were like before. Day by day, it’s all the same. I cannot escape it—this anchoring feeling of despair. The emptiness eats away at me. I’m in search of release…of some sort of freedom from this pain. I need to fill my life with meaning, to find purpose in this accursed world…I think I’ll go out for coffee today. People watching brings me so much joy. They seem to live much happier lives than me.

Click

January 16th, 6:38 PM

My daydreams must’ve blended into reality because there was no way I created someone as beautiful as she was outside my imagination. I’m certain of it. She was sitting at the bar of the cafe down the street from my apartment, dressed in business casual—she probably works nearby. How kismet. The coffee was bland, as were most things in my life, but she awoke something in me. I hope I see her again. She somehow managed to clear the cobwebs around my heart. I think my life has finally found purpose. She is my driving force. I wonder what her name is.

Click

January 19th, 6:11 AM

Feeling well-rested today. Four hours of sleep is my new record. I plan to go to the coffee shop again. Back to the place where my eyes were first blessed with the mirage of her…where I first fell in love. I hope she’s there. People are so fun to observe when they don’t think they’re being watched…it’s simple psychology. The Hawthorne Effect. When humans notice they are under observation, they change. So inauthentic. But her? She never notices. She sits so obliviously, allowing me to take her in with ease. So good to me. She’s a breath of fresh air. I hope to work up the courage to speak to her soon. My heart soars at the mere thought of being in her presence once again. It’s so refreshing to feel something after all this time. I’ve been numb for so long, but she has set my heart on fire. She is everything to me, my sole purpose for existence.

Click

January 19th, 8:27 PM

I saw her again today. She didn’t see me. Just how I like it. She typed away on her computer like normal…she’s a hard worker, it seems. Driven and strong. And here I was thinking such beauty was a thing of legend. It's refreshing to have been proved wrong–that rarely happens. Oh, how I crave her. I know she’d make me feel whole again. She can save me from all this, I can feel it.

Click

January 23rd, 5:13 AM

Only two hours of sleep tonight. But, for some reason, I feel better than ever… I normally do when I find a reason for living, again. It’s her…it must be because of her. She keeps me going; my muse, my inspiration. She’s worked wonders on me already and she doesn’t even know it, yet. I’m going to the cafe again today, I cannot wait to see her. Maybe today I will finally speak to her.

Click

January 23rd, 9:53 PM

She never showed up today…I wonder what’s going on. Maybe she had other things to do. It’s fine, really. I’m annoyed, honestly. I waited around all day. I’ll keep checking until I see her again.

Click

January 28th, 7:06 PM

My sweet girl has gone missing. I haven’t seen her in quite some time now. This is just ridiculous. The woman I love…is she avoiding me? No, no that cannot be.

Click

February 2nd, 8:31 AM

I haven’t slept well in days. I’ve been awake for twenty six hours now…my mind feels like it’s filled with static and yet, I feel sharper than ever. I’ve gone to the cafe every day. Still no sign of her. I’m slipping back into my old ways, the darkness is going to return any moment. I’ve begun to hear the laughter in the shadows again. They’re making fun of me, I just know it. I need her…oh, I need her so bad. How could she do this to me? Does she not know how much I suffer when she’s not around? If I don’t see her again soon, I will never recover.

Click

February 5th, 6:21 PM

I finally saw her again today. My heartrate spiked and I nearly leaped from my seat to kiss her, to hold her, sway her side to side in a deep hug. Instead, I slipped a tracker into her purse as I walked by her chair. I must know where she works, where she lives, and what she enjoys in her free time. She slipped away from me so easily…can’t let that happen again. I need to know every little thing about her. She is my one and only after all. It would be ridiculous to love someone so deeply and know nothing about them. She is too beautiful, I cannot let her wander around unsupervised. There are some crazy people out there—you never know what could happen. I can’t lose her. I must keep her safe. I will possess her heart. No one else can have her but me.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru observed her for months, shadowing her all around town. He knew the woman’s routine like the back of his hand, before he ever learned her name. Sunday’s she went grocery shopping, Monday after work was her pilates class, every couple of Thursday’s she was at the nail salon, and Friday’s were seemingly payday–he picked up on her pattern of going out to nice restaurants every other week. Satoru eventually got an upper-level management position at a company that shared the office building with her job–he is incredibly intelligent and overqualified, after all; they would be foolish to not hire him. Now he could really keep an eye on her.

That was when he finally learned her name–the two of them taking the same elevator. She didn’t recognize him as the man who seemingly had the same routine as her–it’s one of the many reasons why Satoru loved her so much: her naivety. She looked into his eyes for the first time that day, her voice was soft and angelic, and the name that fell from her lips sent waves through Satoru’s body, the same name that would now be coupled with his gasping moans every evening as he stroked himself to the thought of her.

With Satoru’s new job that brought him one step closer to her, he knew he could no longer watch her in the way he used to. His movements had to be more calculated, putting more distance between them than he normally would or hiding behind the deep tint of his car windows. If she saw his face too frequently, she surely would have caught on. Satoru smiled at the possibility of her never catching on…how she’d greet him with a smile and a friendly hug each time they “coincidentally” bumped into one another, giggling about their lives' odd synchronicities. Such a sweet girl. If only she knew.

He stopped into her job, a small gift bag hanging off his slender fingers, desperate to watch her eyes light up with the sweet gesture of an unexpected gift. He asked to see her, only to be informed by the receptionist that she had the day off.

It was no worry, he didn’t let that dull his excitement. “I’m a friend of hers, brought this in to surprise her. Do you mind showing me to her desk, I’ll just leave it there for her when she returns to work,” he said kindly. The lady working the front desk blushed under his piercing gaze and handsome features, nodding shyly and walking him to his lover’s designated area.

Satoru thanked her, stepping into the cubicle to place his gift by her computer. His eyes glazed over her workspace. It was decorated with trinkets and family photos. He picked one up, his thumb tracing over her face. His pretty girl. That smile could bring about world peace; it definitely quieted the angered voices in his head. He scanned her desk, a moment of envy shooting through him at the thought of her dainty fingers dancing over the keyboard rather than tangling in his hair. He groaned internally, looking over his shoulder to ensure no one was around, before ducking down, rummaging through his beloved’s drawers. Stowed away in the bottom of the unit was a fuzzy, white cardigan. He brought the fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply, stifling the filthy moan that nearly echoed through the cubicle. He quickly tucked it into his jacket, took one last look around, and headed toward the exit.

In the safety of his vehicle, Satoru whipped the clothing out from under his wing, bringing it to his face once more. He undid his belt buckle with haste, shoving his dress slacks halfway down his thighs before his large fist swaddled his cock with the fuzzy white cardigan. He nearly sobbed at the contact, the smell of his car filling with her beautifully floral perfume. He brought the free edge up to his nose, taking another whiff as his hand worked furiously against his shaft. He had never finished so quickly in his life, staggered whimpers and choked moans fell from his parted lips as fat ropes shot up onto his abs and chest. His cheeks were flustered a violent red as he wiped his sticky shame away with her top. After he came, then did his clarity, and Satoru’s body ached with the thought of how good it would feel to finally be sheathed within her sticky walls, rather than her soft clothing. I’ll be with you soon. Soon, my love.

These feelings were getting unbearable. His overactive brain had him teetering on the edge of insanity. He needed more. His imagination was no longer enough to satiate the hunger that gnawed so deeply in his core, the distanced watching and hopeless longing for the love of his life created jagged rifts in his already damaged psyche. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. A few deep breaths and the promise he made to himself to take action soon quelled his burning desire. But for how much longer could Satoru repress the demon that clawed through his body?

Satoru surveyed her while she ran to the bank, walked her dog, or took her car to the wash. But his most favorite place to watch her was from the bench just outside her bedroom window, engulfed in darkness. Pretty girl lived on the second floor, her silly little brain assumed she didn’t need curtains. She never saw him, but he always saw her. All of her. Drinking in the way her clothes were delicately removed from her pretty little frame, the way she turned and posed in the mirror–so good to him. How her skin glistened after she got out of the shower, the water droplets running along her body in the same way Satoru wanted to.

He fell into a state of bliss, feeling spoiled by the show he was getting tonight. The lotion that she worked into her body, the beautiful set of lingerie that she dawned. His eyes buzzed around his sockets, elation flooding through him. Gorgeous, gorgeous girl. But his body went rigid and his jaw locked tight at the appearance of another man behind the love of his life. He sat upright, shoulders stiff and heart pounding in his ears at the thought of his sweet being in danger, he cursed himself for not being more aware of her surroundings on her behalf. But when his darling girl turned to the unknown man with a smile, greeting him with a gentle kiss with the lips that were supposed to be just for Satoru, his heart shattered into a million pieces.

Oh, no. This just won’t do, my love. You are mine.

Jealousy coursed through his veins while he looked into her room, rage balled in his fists as he watched a random man have her in the one way Satoru couldn’t. Not yet, at least. He must’ve been new in her life, judging by the way his nervous hands explored every part of her skin. Satoru laughed at this–he knew he could please his woman so much better. But betrayal nipped at the back of his neck; how could she do this to him? Had his loyalty fallen on unappreciative shoulders? No, that couldn’t be. Satoru knew she was better than that, he picked her for a reason, after all. She was just playing hard to get.

You rejected my advances and desperate pleas, and now you throw your relationship in my face. It’s punishment enough that I can’t have you, but I won't let you let me down so easily.

Feeling at a loss, swallowed whole by his hungered desperation, he did what any rational person would. He moved in next door.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru Gojo was your next-door neighbor. He moved in only a few months after you did. You were elated, chalking it up to a lucky roll of the dice that you had met by chance at your job; he had started working for the company that shared the office park with yours. It really seemed like things were on the come-up for you. He was kind, confidently intuitive, funny, and supportive. Mildly egotistical, but it worked for him. He always invited you over for dinner and movie nights and was a strong, dependable shoulder for you to cry on. You had just moved to the city, feeling utterly lost and absolutely gutted about being so far from your support systems now, and he was your first friend. You felt safe knowing he was just a wall away.

On a random Sunday, you opened your front door to see all the food you loved sitting at your doorstep–weird, you were just about to leave for the store. You turned your head, seeing Satoru peeking out from his cracked door, grinning at you.

“Was this you, Satoru? You didn’t have to…this is incredibly thoughtful,” you beamed, stepping over the grocery bags to give him a tight hug. “You’re the best, I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” But Satoru did, he knew exactly what you could do for him.

When you needed a ride to work, he jumped in to save you. The two of you worked in the same building after all. It was a crazy coincidence that your new neighbor turned best friend worked just a few floors above you. It’s such a small world, isn’t it? But it worked out perfectly for the two of you.

There was a month where you were short on rent, and there was Satoru, paying the rest on your behalf.

You weren’t catching on. Sweet, naive girl. Oh, how he loved you. I need to work harder to get her attention.

Satoru was not a patient man, but for you, he would do anything and everything to get you right where he wanted you, expertly playing the long game. It began with the fated sighting of you sitting in a cafe, and snowballed into something bigger. At first, he only ever observed you, maybe the minor occasion of overstepping, but as time went on, he couldn’t sit idly by. It was time to make his move.

His disruptions in your life started inconspicuously. Leaving for a date? You found your car tires slashed and windows shattered in the parking deck. Now there’s a police investigation. Bummer…gotta cancel the date. Had a guy over? Satoru’s apartment flooded. Weird… that was the second time this month.

“You gotta talk to the landlord about this, ‘Toru,” you sighed. He had to stay at yours that evening.

You cried on his shoulder, telling him that some guy stood you up on a date you had been anticipating for weeks. There was an electrical fire in that man’s apartment that night. Must’ve been faulty wiring...or something.

His apartment flooded again. He was back at your door. You welcomed him with open arms, of course. He’s so good to you, the least you could do is help him out, as well.

Satoru, you’re slipping. That’s too many times in one month. Ease up or she’ll catch on.

Friday night, in a wild happenstance, he bumped into you while you were out with another man, enjoying a nice dinner together. He smiled warmly at the two of you, before politely dismissing himself. His cheery smile dropped into a demented grin once he stepped out of the restaurant as he anonymously called in a bomb threat to the establishment. You were so shaken up at the entire ordeal you practically begged Satoru to stay with you that night. He’d be a fool to turn you down.

Satoru got everything he wanted. You were just a tough nut to crack, is all. No big deal. He loved a challenge. After all, how could you not love him by now?

But nothing was working. You couldn’t catch the hint, even with everything he threw at you. He was always the one there for you, even when you weren’t aware of it. What more could he do to prove that he was the only person you needed? I’m reliable, witty, and loving… how can she not see this? He finally snapped. The last straw? Hearing your pleasure-filled cries while getting fucked by another man, your “boyfriend”. The lewd sounds ricocheted around your room, shooting through the thin walls of your apartment and straight into his listening ears.

Tsk, tsk. Now you’ve done it. Always been such a tease.

For as cocky as he was, it’s oddly fitting. In his mind, everything belonged to him, including you. And with that, his demented plan was in full effect. He had hoped to spare you, prayed that you would fall in love with him before he lost his composure completely. But your sweet, naive nature had proved to be a difficult wall to break down.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The sound of your front door’s lock disengaging echoed through the empty hallway. Satoru stepped in, inhaling deeply as he shoved your house key into his back pocket. It was far easier to gain access into your home than he had originally anticipated; he was fully prepared to break in, but all he had to do was tell your landlord you went out of town and you forgot to leave a key with him before you left. The manager of your apartment complex knew how close you and Satoru were, so it was an easy lie to tell. But it couldn’t have been further from the truth. You weren’t out of town, he wasn’t house sitting, and you had no intentions of having company this evening.

Seated at your desk, he opened your laptop and navigated his way to your iMessage settings, ensuring you could only send and receive texts from your laptop. Clicking on the messaging app, he stifled the gag that threatened to escape his throat as he clicked on the thread between you and your boyfriend, his contact name “my love” in your phone. He rolled his eyes, before drafting a quick text:

-Hey, baby. I have a half-day at work today…dinner and wine at my place tonight? ;)

He grinned at the quickness of your boyfriend’s response.

-I would love that. What time, my love?

Satoru scoffed at the pet name. He doesn’t deserve to call you that. Poor bastard needed to learn his place. Heat rose in his chest, jealousy emanating through his skin as he crafted his response.

-3pm…Can’t wait to see you.

Everything was going according to plan. Satoru glanced at the clock beside him: 11:17 AM. It was time to get set up, he had a big day planned for you, and his first guest would be arriving in a few short hours.

A knock rang through the apartment as Satoru finished lighting his final candle. He smiled wide, sauntering over to the door. He swung it open, grinning politely at your boyfriend. “...Hey, man…didn’t expect to see you here…” he said warily as Satoru stood to the side and gestured him in, a quizzical look painted on your partner’s face as he stepped through the doorway. The door shut and the lock was reengaged. “Where’s…” but before he could get his question out, his chin was met with Satoru’s right fist.

Satoru made quick work of dragging his body upstairs. He dug through the unconscious man’s pants, pulling out his cellphone. Satoru was disgusted to see that you were his lockscreen. This pitiful man wasn’t worthy enough to be with you. He rolled his eyes, unlocking the man’s phone and sending you a text:

-Hey, beautiful. Come straight home tonight. I’m making dinner for us. See you when you get off work.

You smiled at the familiar ding of your phone, the notification effectively distracting you from your tedious paperwork. Your heart soared at the message, sighing deeply and shifting your weight around in your office chair. Your hand rubbed at your face in an attempt to hide your blushing cheeks.

“What is it?” your coworker asked.

“Oh, nothing. I thought my boyfriend forgot our anniversary cause I hadn’t heard from him all day…but he just texted me saying he’s at my place and is making dinner for us tonight.” A giddy smile couldn’t help but drag across your face.

Satoru looked at the clock: 3:28 PM. You would be home in an hour or so. Just a few more things had to be done, everything had to be perfect.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Your heart rate spiked as you got closer to your apartment door, keys jingling against your palm as you fumbled with the lock, excitement making your movements a bit clumsier than usual. You entered and kicked off your heels, and as you turned to toss your keys onto the small table in your foyer, you noticed a small card that said “Read Me” placed perfectly in the center of the tray. You were perplexed as your eyes scanned over the note. “Go to the living room” was all it said.

You blushed, a nervous smile pulling at the edge of your lips as you crept to the other room. Your eyes went wide at the sight; deep red roses were placed in the center of the coffee table and every accessible surface around the couch was adorned with beautifully flickering candles. Another note was on the table, your fingers fumbled with the edge of the card as you opened it: “Have a seat, take a sip, and press play.” You settled on the couch, noticing a glass of alluring red wine to the right of the roses. You took a few deep, fulfilling swigs of your drink before grabbing the TV remote. Your face twisted a bit, examining the glass in your hand, the flavor of wine different than the one you were used to. It was a special night after all, your thoughtful boyfriend must have wanted you to branch out this evening. Where is he, anyway? As you pressed play, you called out for him, only to be cut off by your own confusion as Satoru’s face appeared on your TV screen. You watched with perplexity as Satoru recentered his chair, smiled, relaxed his face, and then smiled again.

No…no, no, no. What is this? You were locked in place, the melodious sounds of Satoru’s voice cascaded out of your surround sound system. He looked different though, his eyes were dull and low, his voice monotonous–his alarming difference in demeanor sent a chill down your spine. Your groggy mind inferred that this must’ve been an accident. Maybe it was casted to the wrong TV. I shouldn’t be seeing this…these are Satoru’s video diaries.

You so badly wanted to tear your eyes away from the screen, this seemed like such an invasion of privacy. But you were entranced, staring intently toward the TV, though you didn’t really have a choice, your body was completely numb now.

“January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point…” you fought to keep your eyes open, to piece together what the hell was happening, until your body eventually succumbed to sleep.

When you finally came to, you were laid out on your bed, fully nude. Soft grunts lingered in the air as you worked your hardest to refocus your eyes, your head pounding. You shifted your weight onto your forearms, your neck straining as it felt like your brain was filled with lead, eyes searching your bedroom for the culprit of the moans. One glance to the left, a quick look to the right, before you stared straight ahead at the wall directly across from the bed. Your body lurched in fear as your heart sank, the source of the sounds now looking you dead in the eyes: The man you had been seeing for the past couple of months, gagged and tied to a chair, his bloodied face twisted up in agony.

You tried to call out for him. Your feeble attempts to drag your heavy body closer in order to console him were interrupted as the room was suddenly illuminated with the streaming lights of a projector. Your movements halted as you shielded your eyes immediately, the bright interruption feeling like a flashbang to your sensitive head.

“We didn’t get to finish my show and tell,” a voice spoke up from the dark corner.

“Satoru?? Wha…what is going on?” you cried out, tears spilling from your eyes while your hands attempted to cover your modesty. You tried your hardest to sit upright, your head spinning, unsure if Satoru was the culprit or your savior. Your body felt like it was anchored to the floor, your head throbbing with every word that tore through your chest.

“There’s no need for all that yelling, sweetheart,” Satoru grinned, crouching down next to you. You winced as his hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that trickled down your cheeks.

Click

Metal cuffs clamped down on your wrists before you could even register what was happening. A million unanswered questions spun through the room as you frantically searched through his blue eyes, hoping to find any sort of insight into the torment he was inflicting upon the two of you.

“This is what’s gonna happen, okay? I need you to listen to me.” His voice was sickeningly sweet, each syllable that left his lips more damning than the last as he dragged your limp body up the bed, securing your wrists to the headboard and angling your body toward the projected video on your wall. A crazed grin lit up his dull face as he raised his hand, pointing the remote toward the projector. “You’re gonna sit here and look all pretty f’me while you watch these tapes, and if you move, if you stop paying attention for even a second…” Your stomach churned at how gently he was able to give such vile instructions. He turned his attention towards your partner, the blade of a knife twirling through the slender fingers of his free hand, “...He’s dead. Understand, angel?”

You nodded reluctantly, unable to do anything else but comply with his demands. Your head was spinning, trying to digest the fact that this was the same person who had paid your rent and entertained your rants after a hard day of work. You listened as his voice continued to drabble over the static of the projector, recalling how bland that day had been until he saw your face. How he must’ve dreamt of you because there was no way your beauty could exist outside of his imagination. To you, it had been a normal Tuesday afternoon. To him, it had been the start of the rest of his life.

The longer you watched, the more the realization set in that the sweet gestures he presented to you were not out of the goodness of his heart, but from the darkness of his spirit, driven by his wanton lust. Your face was slack, eyes wide in horror. Disappointment crawled through your chest at your own naivety. How could I be so oblivious? So trusting?

Satoru’s eyes bored into the side of your face as he sat beside you, his hands rubbing deep circles into your bare thighs, pure elation shooting through his veins at his sweet girl finally having a look into his mind. The look of terror that painted your beautiful face made his heart leap with joy. Satoru’s giddy demeanor dropped as pained grunts emerged from the tethered man against the wall. He stood, closing the distance between the two of them, his fist encircling your boyfriend’s throat. You began to protest, to plead with Satoru to leave him be, but the rage that filled his eyes made you shut your mouth. “Uh uh…eye’s on the screen, my love.” Your head snapped back toward the videos, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as the muffled wailing of your boyfriend filled the room.

As the final video played, Satoru returned to your side, kneeling on the edge of the bed as he stroked the back of your head and rubbed at your cheeks. “Can’t you see all that I’ve done for you?” He grabbed your face, digging his fingers deep into the space under your cheekbones, forcing your lips into a pucker. “You belong to me, my love.” A deep growl rumbled through his chest, “You look so fucking beautiful like this.” He leaned down and crashed his lips into yours, his hot tongue bullying its way through your tight lips. Small whines echoed through your mouth and into his, and Satoru greedily swallowed up your sounds with ease. Whimpers of protest came from the wall across from your bed, but they were quickly drowned out by the wet sounds of smacking lips and battling tongues.

He broke away, a thick trail of spit still connecting the two of you. Satoru released your cheeks with a gentle shove, throwing his leg over yours to straddle you. He dropped his head to your neck, his white hair brushing against your skin. You winced as he licked a thick line from your collarbone to your ear. “I finally get to have you,” he whispered, nipping at your flesh, “You ready to give yourself to me, princess?” Your eyes widened in horror, your gaze affixed towards your boyfriend, blood trickling from the fresh cuts on his cheeks. Your head shook side to side, tears brimming in your eyes once more as your thoughts raced through your mind, causing a traffic jam in your throat. “I…no, I can’t…he’s…” Satoru’s palm covered your mouth, a groan erupting from the back of his throat as his eyes rolled deep into his skull. He sat back, staring down at you, his free hand running its fingertips between your breasts. “This has nothing to do with him…It’s just me and you now, my love.” Your head snapped up to stare at your captor as the rough pads of his fingers brushed over your nipples. A stifled moan teased the back of your throat, an exasperated look of fear in your eyes as you stared up at Satoru.

Your cheeks flushed as you held his gaze. He grinned back down at you before rolling the hardened bud between his fingertips. Your chest arched toward him, a shameful hum dancing from your lips as he played with you. A deep laugh erupted from the blue-eyed man at your unintentional reaction, his head thrown back with pure joy as he continued to pull at your nipples. He leaned into your neck once more, his teeth grazing the outer shell of your ear. “I knew it,” he purred, “Knew you wanted me, too. You were just playing hard to get, isn’t that right?” You shook your head once more, your words constricted in your chest. “N-no…I never wanted you,” you retorted, head thrown to the side, attempting to distance yourself from him, but to no avail. The weight of him anchored your lower half to the mattress while your tethered wrists held you in place.

A deep chuckle rumbled through Satoru, “So if I feel your pussy, it won’t be absolutely soaked right now?” A pathetic whimper escaped your throat as you shook your head furiously. The rolling motion against your nipples halted and his hand trailed lower down your abdomen. “Hmm…let’s see then, shall we?” he taunted, tracing your skin before rubbing your folds and dipping into your core. “I knew it…you’re fucking drenched f’me, sweetheart.” He shoved two fingers in, shallowly teasing your hole before withdrawing, bringing his sopping digits between your faces, turning his wrist as the dim light of the room illuminated the wetness, making it glisten ever so slightly. He examined them before meeting your fearful gaze. “Why did you lie?” He sucked his middle digit into his mouth, his tongue lapping hungrily at your sweet juices as his eyes fluttered shut. A hum emanated from Satoru as his other soaked finger pushed past your lips, “Here, have a taste, pretty girl,” his long digit dancing around your tongue. “So fucking sweet. You have no idea how badly I’ve been craving this.”

“I’ll ask you again, princess…Why’d you lie to me? I thought you were better than that,” he teased, an insincere pout twitching at his lips as he cradled your chin. Your body thrashed as his hands pawed down your body, plunging two fingers deep inside you again. Your back arched toward him, his knee between your legs was the only thing keeping you open for him. “I…It wasn’t..ahh!– I wasn’t lying…I–”. Your words fell on deaf ears as a wicked smile crept across Satoru’s face.

“Shhh…shhh my sweet girl, just lay back and enjoy,” he smirked as he crawled down your body, laying himself flat on the bed with his head nestled between your legs. Satoru’s body no longer shielded you from your boyfriend, your teary eyes darted across his face, a silent apology being sent his way. Small gasps escaped your lips as Satoru continued to pump into you, the tips of his curled fingers toying with your sweet spot. When you stared down at him, the look of pure desire peered back at you, the dampness between your legs skyrocketing at the sight. A scarlet dusting of shame brushed across your cheeks at your clear enjoyment of all this, even though it betrayed every natural instinct you had. His tongue darted out from between his lips, the tip circling your swollen clit as his fingers dipped in and out of you, his movements spurred on by his own desperation.

He was delirious, suckling against your clit while his fingers worked into you with fervor, moans and growls echoing through the room as he drank you in. You so badly wanted to break away, to console your boyfriend who had an unintentional front row seat to you falling apart on someone else’s tongue, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop him, his digits hitting spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Pleasure ripped through your body as a tightening sensation crept its way into your stomach. The rattling of your cuffs echoed through your bedroom as you fought against your restraints, desperately wanting to tangle your fingers in Satoru’s hair.

Your hips bucked toward his mouth, your body aching for release as your pelvis thrusted against his flattened tongue. You didn’t dare look away from Satoru, for you knew there was another set of eyes affixed upon the damning scene that was unfolding. He continued to hum and suck and pump into your core as you tightened around him, his slender fingers quickly coaxing your orgasm from your writhing body. Your eyes screwed shut as your gushy walls spasmed around his fingers, your release painting Satoru’s overly-eager face. He lapped at you some more, working you through your orgasm as he cleaned you up with his wickedly talented tongue.

A deep growl broke through Satoru’s chest as he removed his head from between your legs, the back of his hand dragging across his chin, catching the last of your release before he licked you off of him. He sat upright, craning his neck to look over his shoulder, “Hope you were taking notes,” a smug grin on his face as he addressed your watching boyfriend. He redirected his attention to you. “Did so good f’me, angel. Dreamt of that for so long…” he grinned, his tongue darting out to trace along his lips, hoping there was still some of you coating his face “...I could do that all fuckin’ day.”

Your shaking chest heaved as clarity settled into your mind. Satoru untethered your wrists from the headboard, shifting your body so that you were on your hands and knees, head positioned toward the wall your partner was leaning against. Strangled sounds rang from your boyfriend’s chest as you finally met his gaze. Humiliation prickling under your skin at the realization of what you had just done. But you had no time to dwell on it as Satoru repositioned himself on the bed.

“He’s gonna watch me destroy you, my sweet girl,” Satoru was kneeled behind you, lining himself up with your embarrassingly soaked entrance. He grasped your hips roughly, sinking into you in one fluid motion. You choked out a sob as you dropped your head in shame.

“You’re so pretty when you cry. He can’t help you…can’t save you. Go ‘head, keep cryin’ for him,” he cooed, his thrusts deep and slow inside of you. Jagged moans escaped your throat as the thick head of his cock brushed into your sweet spot. “He can’t make you feel as good as I do.”

He leaned down, reaching around to cradle your throat in his hand, squeezing tightly as he turned your head to the side, his sharp eyes running up and down your contorted face. “Can’t you see that you belong to me, how my poor heart aches for you? How badly I’ve needed you?” His thrusts were agonizingly slow but incredibly deep, the pressure in your tummy betraying your desire for this to stop. “That’s it, my love. Feel you clenching down on me…you’re getting off on this, aren’t ya?” His hips rocked deeper into you, the new depth had your hands clawing at the sheets of your bed as pleasure worked its way through your trembling body.

“He doesn’t treat you the way I do. He never will. No one is better for you than me, princess,” he seethes, his hand cupping your chin, holding your head up, “Now look in his eyes while I use you.” His pace picked up, pulling you back on to him with his anchored hand around your neck. A broken sob cut through your constricted throat as he fucked into you, the visceral sound of flesh smacking against flesh and whines and cries spun through the otherwise stiff air of your room. He palmed at the fat of your ass, pulling your body to meet his rough thrusts. A choked cry left your lips as you maintained eye contact with your boyfriend, crimson droplets running down his face, mimicking the pattern of your tears. You mouthed a silent “I’m sorry” to him before your eyes shut tightly, waves of sinful bliss pulsed through your body with every mean thrust of Satoru’s hips.

“Gettin’ so tight around me–f-fuuuck–you’re close, huh?” Your face contorted in shameful pleasure as you nodded, your back arching even more to take him deeper. “That’s it…c’mon, my love. Need you to cum on my cock,” Satoru begged, his voice airy as he got lost in your tight, sopping walls. “Show me how good I make you feel.” His words ricocheted around your head as the building pressure in your stomach finally snapped, your legs shaking violently as your orgasm ripped through your body, splattering onto Satoru’s thighs and the mattress below you.

A few more strokes met your dripping center before Satoru bottomed out inside of you, thick ropes of his pearlescent seed painting your spasming walls. He finally released his tight grip around your throat, your head dropping immediately as indignity plagued your trembling frame. He pulled out, spreading your cheeks as he leaned down, an animalistic growl pulling from his chest as he watched his cum dribble out of your pussy.

Satoru rubbed soothing circles into your lower back as you worked to regain your breath. “You’re mine,” he whispered. He unlatched the restraints from around your wrists, a coy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at the purple bruises that marked your skin. He locked eyes with your boyfriend, a deranged smile dancing across his face as he reached for the discarded projector remote.

Another familiar voice flooded through the speaker, but this time it wasn’t Satoru’s. “...We broke up a few weeks ago. No, no. Really, it’s okay. She was kind of a bitch anyway.” Your pupils widened as you stared back at the man you had just been feeling sorry for minutes ago, rage mixing into the vast sea of emotions you were already feeling while you watched a grainy video of him snaking his arm around another woman’s waist. The two of them were laughing outside of his house before she leaned in to kiss him.

“My poor sweet girl.” Satoru’s hand brushed lightly against your cheeks, catching tears that you didn’t even realize had begun spilling out. “I didn’t want you to have to find out this way, but I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

There were a million other ways he could have broken the news to you, but that somehow wasn’t the most pressing issue at hand.

“An eye for an eye, right?” The same haunting grin that you’d grown to know all too well spread across his face again, his blue eyes slicing into your ex-boyfriend’s. “I can’t believe that my entire world was in the hands of someone so undeserving…” he redirected his attention back to you and recaptured your cheeks in his hands. He leaned down to meet your gaze, unexpected softness replacing his usual sinister demeanor. “What do we do now, baby? It’s your call.”

Your pulse was ringing through your ears. “My call?” your voice was reduced to a whisper as you repeated it back to him.

“I’m going to kill him either way, but I want you to tell me how.”

You pondered for a moment, still coming to terms with the chain of events that lead you to this one vengeful moment.

Satoru stood, sauntering over to your boyfriend, stooping down to his level while his hands hovered over his gag. “When I take this off, I don’t want to hear anything other than remorse come from that pathetic fuckin’ mouth of yours.” Your boyfriend’s eyes shifted towards you, then back to Satoru, as he nodded pitifully. The tie was pulled from his mouth. His words were broken, barely audible. “I’m -” he choked out. “I’m sorry, I -”

Your stomach lurched as a sharp smack met his cheek, the painful sound resonating through the room. “You can do better than that. You got one more try,” Satoru spat, his eyes burning into your ex-lover’s bloodied face as he wrapped his fist around his throat, jostling his head around in a fit of rage.

“Satoru,” you hardly recognized your tone let alone the thoughts that were racing through your head. The last few hours of your life had been a blur. The words you heard earlier made perfect sense now, “Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point.” You were officially at that point. “Satoru, don’t. Let’s just end this.”

It was the first time you’d ever seen the silver-haired man look surprised. His eyebrow raised, a mix of curiosity and amusement glinting in his eye. “Tell me how,” he repeated. “I need to hear you say it.”

You were in a dream. Nothing more than a figment of Satoru’s imagination, just like he had said. It was the only thing that made sense to you because there was no way any of this was actually happening.

“Rip his heart out,” your voice emotionless as you gazed toward the blue-eyed man. Satoru groaned deeply, his dick twitching at the sound of your pretty voice speaking his dark language. The same depraved grin pulled at the edge of his lips as he looked back at your ex.

“Well,” he smirked, “looks like it’s decided then…” Adoration swam through his ocean eyes as he looked back at you, “I knew I picked the right one.”

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The lock of your front door unbolted as your bodies pushed through the door frame, giggling as four glasses of wine danced through your systems. Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. “Happy anniversary, my love,” he mumbled against your lips. His hands grasped yours as he led you toward the couch.

You nestled into the warmth of his chest, his arm secured around you while you gazed around the room. Your head spun from the wine-induced nostalgia that this day had inevitably brought on. You were still in the same apartment, only it belonged to both of you now. A blend of sentimental gifts decorated your bookshelf that the two of you had collected over the last year. A camcorder, pressed red roses, framed vacation photos, and the first set of diamond earrings he’d bought you stowed away in a heart-shaped jewelry box. But out of all of the memories that tied you together, there was one that stood out the most.

“Should we open it?” you whispered, drawing lazy circles into his shoulder.

You didn’t have to see his face to feel his smirk. He knew his girl and he knew her well. He stood wordlessly, retrieving a jar from the highest shelf. He presented it to you, a smug grin gracing his ethereal features, the same look that was permanently etched into your brain the night he got it for you.

“Be my guest, princess.” You unscrewed the lid, peering into the jar as the strong scent of formaldehyde tickled your nose. You smiled longingly into the container, the overwhelming feeling of love reverberating through your chest. There was something so beautifully poetic about Satoru’s limerence, the lengths at which he went to steal the heart of another in order to fully possess yours.

author note: im so sorry for not posting my sweets,, i had the worst case of writer's block and i was actively trying to work on six different WIPs...i was losing my mind.

this was quite the heavy fic to write...i hope i didn't scare anyone away with it lol

alsoooo!! sending out the biggest thank you to @remlionheart for forcing me to finish this...my editor, my co-writer, the love of my life ♡ ⋆｡˚

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raggedyflowers · 5 months

Text

“When you try to rizz them up”

summary: one piece character reacting at you (trying) to rizz them up. it’s my first time writing smut so … don’t look at me I’m shy (may delete later)

character: Ace, Law, Sanji, Zoro x female reader

cr: NSFW 🔞, heavily flirting, suggestive words, semi public sex

Ace:

Drinking with Ace was not a smart idea ‘cause while the alcohol went directly on your brain, it seemed that Ace burned it as soon as it touched his lips. So it’s not a big surprise when at the end of the evening you were drunk, but he was perfectly fine. “So” you smirked at him, with a courage you usually didn’t have. “You catch fire only to the fist or even up the elbow?” it was such a dumb line that you should’ve feel embarrassed even if drunk, but Ace found it endearing. “You are so out your mind right now, y/n” he told you, helping you get to your room. “You make me out of my mind” you kept going, ignoring his laughter. “Whatever you say” he respond to you. “Usually I’m better at flirting” you mumble to yourself. “You’re going great, why don’t you try when your sober?” he asked you with a smirk, leavening you at the door at yours room without words. The next time you hanged out together, Ace kept an eye on you. “Try to remain sober this time, y/n” he winked at you. “I really wanna satisfy your curiosity”.

that night he did satisfy your curiosity… and not just that

you two found your way to Ace’s room and then he showed you how fast he can warm up the situation

He let you sit on his face and he spent the night eating you out

Law:

Your relationship with Law has always been private and even if someone could have said that he was cold with you, you know behind closed door Law was nothing but a loving and caring partner. It didn’t stop you to try to rizz him up in front of the rest of the Heart Pirates. You loved seeing him blushing, but most of all you loved what did come after. “You don’t need to use your devil fruit” you said to a confused Law. “You already have my heart”. You look satisfied the red cheek of your boyfriend who shock his head. “Why are you like that, y/n-ya?” he asked talking over the laughter of your crewmates. “Like what?” you asked innocently. “I just want you to shamble my organs with your dic —” you never finished the sentence since Law grabbed your arms and took you away.

“You already stopped being a brat, eh y/n-ya?” he asked after pinned you at the wall as soon as you two have entered in his room

You could’ve just bite your tongue for keeping your moans low

“Ah-ah” he said while slowly tracing your entrance with his tattooed fingers. “Don’t stop talking now. Let everyone hear you like before”

And then he push his fingers inside of you and you couldn’t do nothing but scream his name

Needles to say your organs were actually shambled that night

Sanji:

“You should wear the burgundy suit more often” you said to Sanji taking him aback. “Mmh?” he asked you, stopping cutting the vegetables. “I need something pretty to look at”. You always said things like that to him, joking mostly, but not entirely. And you loved seeing his cheek turning red after you called him pretty. “Move please, pretty boy” you said one day passing near to him and grabbing his waist to move him. “Y/n ~ ” he mumbled covered by your laugh. “Pretty, really?” he asked you and you cupped his check. “The prettiest” you said to him. “Not as pretty as you, my love” he told you back. “Wanna show me how much pretty you can be for me” you asked him with a mischievous smile.

he did show you how pretty he is

with his red cheek and sweet smile while he pounded into you

“you are the prettiest” he said you groping your breast while he kept his pace. “taking my cock so well”

but really he was the prettiest boys, especially when he lowered himself and started eating you out

Zoro:

One of your favourite activities on the Sunny was watching Zoro work out. You pretended to read a book but your eyes couldn’t help but to lingering on his sweaty body. “Your book is upside down” he said to you with a smirk. “Really?” you asked, without an ounce of shame. “Are you training on the forth swords styles?” Zoro looked at you with confusion. “You know, the other sword in your — ” you pointed at his pants. He smirked. “Wanna found out?” he smirked again.

he actually spent all night “practicing” with his forth sword

you never been more happy to indulge him

“do you like my sword style?” he asked you while keeping the brutal pace pounding into you

you wanted to say yes, but couldn’t form a single thought

#one piece #straw hat pirates #trafalgar law #one piece fluff #sanji x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar one piece #one piece fanfiction #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #zoro x reader #black leg sanji #sanji one piece #ace one piece #ace x reader #ace d portgas #one piece smut #reader insert

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ncttytrack · 4 months

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Favorite Flavor - p.sh (m)

Every little dirty story that revolved around older men you read that night, you thought about him. Since that day, your deepest darkest fantasy was your crush on Park Sunghoon, your best friend's dad.

Summary: You loved your best friend, and you have known each other for a long time. But as you grow older, so does your attraction for her dad, Park Sunghoon.

Genre: Smut, Best-friends-dad!Sunghoon x reader

Words: 5.5k+

Warnings: Huge age gap (reader is 20 and Sunghoon is 38) Don't like - don't read, Dom!Sunghoon, Sub!reader, creampie, reader has an age kink

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

You genuinely have the best friend ever. The first day you met each other was all the way back when you were twelve years old. All your classmates had decided to make you the new victim of their bullying, resulting in you not having any friends for the first two weeks of school. Until one day when your now best friend decided to sit with you at lunch. Being unsure of yourself, you had a problem opening up to her. Is she sitting with me to make fun of me? But you were wrong, so wrong. You talked the whole lunch period, making jokes and talking about your interests. That's when you found out that you both liked manga, and that she had a big collection at home that she wanted to show you.

She invited you to her home later the same week, and you were beyond excited. It was a long time ago since you were invited to someone's house, that was not your aunt, or some other family member. You remember that you stood in front of her door, eagerly, waiting for her to open the door you just knocked on.

And that's when you met him.

The person opening your friend's door was indeed not your friend, but someone much older, and ofcourse, manlier. The door swung open and there was a man standing in front of you. He looked at first glance tall and slender, probably because of the clothes that he was wearing, a thick hoodie and a pair of sweats. His hair, which was black, was not close to styled - and it actually looked like he just woke up from a deep slumber. His face however was beautiful, not that you thought about that at the ripe age of twelve, but you still remembered how pretty he was. His lips were pink and plump, and his nose was big and pronounced, decorated with a mole on the side of it. During this time, he was rather young, around 28, so your first initial thought was that he was her older brother. It was weird, she never mentioned an older brother, and it never occurred to you that she had one?

“Oh, hi! You must be y/n, Im Sunghoon, Yeris dad!” The first thing that you could think of is how young her dad looked. Did he just look young for his age, or was he actually in his late twenties. Before the situation could get anymore awkward, beacuse you didn’t have the courage to answer the gorgeous man in front of you, Yeri ran and pushed her dad away from you and grabbed your hand to lead you up to her room. While you two walked away, your hand still in hers, you looked back at Sunghoon still standing in the doorway.

That was your first encounter with Mr. Park, and when you were a kid you didn’t think that much of him. Yeah, he looked good for the average dad, but that's what he was: your best friend's dad. Even thinking he was attractive was so morally wrong in your head, so you didn’t let the thoughts get to you. You did however remember how popular he was amongst the other moms, especially your own. It was also then you discovered that he was in fact super young, being 16 when he got Yeri. You could hear your mom talking for hours about how brave Mr. Park was for taking care of a child from such an early age, despite the fact that the mom left when he and Yeri were 18 and 2 years old. You can’t imagine how much work that must have been for him, both having to think about his studies and his two year old child.

It wasn't until you became 16 that Sunghoon had an effect on you. When you're 16 years old, you are well into puberty and the effect it has on you, both physically and mentally. In the same rapid speed your body got grown, so did your mind as well. Suddenly a guy was not only 'good looking', but put you in a position to sweat and turn red - just by the thought of being in the same room. It didn’t even need to be one specific guy, suddenly you found yourself being attracted to a lot more. Before, when you were glancing at a male classmate's hand, you didn’t think much of it. But now the veins, the bone and the soft skin made it too hard for you to concentrate.

You clearly remembered the first day you looked at your best friend's dad the same way you did for the boys at your school. It was in the middle of the summer break and you decided to visit Yeri at her place. The sun was out and it was almost criminal how hot it was. If you didn't wear the light clothing you wore, you would totally be drenched in disgusting sweat by the time you got there. Your house was not that far, resulting in you always going by bike during all weathers to get to her place. The bike rack was by the side of the garden, and that's where you always put your bike when arriving. That’s when you saw Mr. Park in a state you never had seen him in before. He sawed planks with a massive chainsaw, which was probably several kilograms. His sweat was glistering in the sun, making his white tank top almost see through, and you curse yourself for staring at his hot worked out stomach. His arms were pumped up, and dirty from all the work. The sweat made his hair wet, making it stick to his forehead, before bringing up his hand, pushing the hair back. You are glad that he didn’t see you gawking at him, because that would be utterly embarrassing.

The thing only got worse when your new interest in fanfiction made you realize your darkest fantasies. You had heard from Yeri that you could read stories about your favorite anime characters, and imagine that they were real and that they knew you. What she did not mention however, was that you could find so much more than that. You don’t even want to talk about what you used to read, but you could addmit that it was nasty, and utterly addicting. It started off light, even the slightest makeout story making your body tingle, but it came to a point when that wasn’t enough. So you searched for more, not knowing what it would lead to. It was then you found a story about having an inappropriate relationship with an older man, and it only went downhill from there. What was the problem however was the fact that the fanfiction could be written about anybody, but it couldn't stop you from thinking about Mr. Park. So that's what you did. Every little dirty story that revolved around older men you read that night, you thought about him. Since that day, your deepest darkest fantasy was your crush on Park Sunghoon, your best friend's dad.

It wasn’t long until you were 18 years old, and you of course celebrated it with your family, and your best friend's. The big birthday cake, chocolate flavored, with all the eighteen candles was in front of you, and you were wearing one of those silly party cones on top of your head. They sang for you and you were the only one sitting down. You looked at the lit candles, getting ready to blow them out when the song was over. “Don’t forget to wish for something”, you hear a voice say that you have heard too many times to not recognize. You look up at Sungoon and smile at him. “I will '', you say with a small smile, nervously gulping down your saliva before looking down at the cake again. You close your eyes and blow out the candles, knowing exactly what you are going to wish for. After you opened your eyes, Yeri gave you a big side-hug before jokingly saying, “Omg! Now that you are 18 you can finally fool around with older men that you have read about without catching a case!”. Embarrassed, you lightly punch her shoulder and laugh nervously while tugging your hair behind your ear. You silently hoped that Sunghoon didn’t hear her, but by the look on his face, he certainly did.

It was the same day but later, and a lot more people were in your house celebrating your birthday. Including some friends you finally have scrabbed together over the last six years. Because you finally could drink alcohol, at least legally, it didn’t stop you from doing so, making you right now extremely drunk. It was dark inside the house, with disco lights spreading throughout the room and you craved another drink. You wobbled towards the cabinet to grab the last vodka bottle, but right as you picked it up, a hand stopped you from going further. You looked irritated beside you, only to be met by Sunghoon. “I think you should slow down a little”. You look at him annoyed, trying to get the bottle back from his hands. But Sunghoon held the bottle so high above his head that you couldn't reach it, having to stand on your toes to even be close. Suddenly Sunghoon grabbed your arm with his other hand, bringing it down by force and close to his chest, dragging you in close to him. You breath hitched because you were super close, and he slowly brought down the bottle and put it on the table behind him. Before the liquid courage would force you any further, you backed away from him. “I think I am a little tired, I should rest ”you say and run up to your room.

What you did not know however, was that you had left your phone on the same table where Sunghoon put the vodka. He knew that it was wrong, but he could not stop thinking about what his daughter had said earlier. What older men had you read about exactly? What if you were talking to someone and you were in danger. He wouldn't let an older guy take advantage of you like that. He did know your iphone code, he had accidentally seen you tap it in some days before, and luckily he remembered the numbers. He sneakily brought up your phone, and unlocked it. Right as he opened it a notification popped up from an app called wattpad. What’s that? He thought, as he opened the app. Right as he opened it he wished he didn’t, because now he could exactly see what you had been reading over the past two years. The stories were filthy, and so were the age gaps, all the characters were even older than him. He couldn't look at it anymore, not believing that a girl like you could read something like that. What he did know now however, is how difficult it will be to act normal around you.

And oh, it was. Now you are 20, and over the last two years, from the day you turned 18 to now when you were 20, he acted weird towards you. Not that you knew why, because you never saw, that he saw what you had been getting off of over the past years. And he was getting cocky, I mean he knew that he was hot, and the stares that he would give you over the dinner table when you were with your friend was almost too much for you to bear.

Today was a hot summer day, and you were laying by the pool in your friend's backyard. It was the first day of summer, and you have always celebrated it with Yeri, even after you both graduated from high school. When you both were as young as 15, she smuggled in a bottle of alcohol to drink, not caring that it was clearly illegal. Of course you never get caught, Yeri makes Sunghoon go away for the day every year so he doesn’t interrupt your fun. Over the last years you had always covered your body, never wanting to show it. Even when it was only you and your friend, you wanted your t-shirt over your swimsuit to cover you even when swimming. It wasn’t because you were insecure about your appearance, you didn’t think much of it, but maybe it was for private reasons. But this time, it was different.

Last night your friend called to make the not-so-awful news that her dad is not leaving for the day like he usually does, which means he is going to be there. You try to act disappointed on the phone, but you were far from disappointed. Quickly after the call ended, you searched through your closet trying to find something as close to a bikini. As you start to lose hope, you see the perfect one, a blue halter neck bikini with a low-waist bottom. You bought it a few years ago and you never had the chance to wear it. But now you did.

When you greeted Mr. Park in the backyard you were already wearing it, making sure that your boobs were pushed up into the small bikini top. Throughout the day you had tried to do anything to get Sunghoons attention, but nothing seemed to work. That's when you got an idea. You laid by the pool and decided that you wanted to go top-less to sunbathe your back. Sunghoon could not stop staring at you from the barbeque-grill when you laid down on your stomach, carefully removed your bikini-top without flashing your tits, and relaxed against the sunbed. He almost burned the meat from staring at you. Did she do this on purpose? He did remember the things he saw on your phone on your 18th birthday, how could he forget?

Feeling way too hot, you decided to put on your bikini top again and head inside to cool off and grab some water from the fridge. As you open the fridge to take your drink, your thoughts get disturbed by a voice coming from behind you. “What do you think you are doing?”, you turn around looking at Sunghoon innocently and dumbfounded. He better not think he will get to you this easily. “What are you talking about, can’t I get a drink?”. Sunghoons sighs, put his hands on his hips and looks to the side. His foot is tapping fast on the ground. He is stressed. And his tongue pokes his inner-cheek. And irritated. You slowly walk to him, and tilt your head to the side. You look at him and scrunch your eyebrows, making you look clueless to what he is accusing you for. “Are you angry at me? I mean no harm, I am just your daughter's best friend”. He sighs and looks away for a second, before looking back at you with a smile. Right, Yeris best friend, he internally says to himself. It was a dumb thought that she did all that on purpose. “Of course you can take a drink, I’m just messing with you” he says and walks away.

It has been two weeks since you talked to Sunghoon, avoiding him at all costs out of embarrassment. You can’t believe what had gotten into you that day. It is three in the morning and Yeri is already asleep beside you. That's when you hear the front door open. You didn’t even notice that Sunghoon wasn’t home, and why did he get home this late? Suddenly you hear more than one pair of footsteps, it sounds like someone is with him. Did he bring someone home? Out of curiosity you carefully walk out of the bed Yeri is sleeping on, and towards the bedroom door to see what is going on. And that’s when you see her. It’s a woman. Sunghoon really did bring someone home. And it wasn’t anyone, it was a woman his age, which means she was nothing close to you. You silently watch them, how they intensely makeout with each other and walk into Sunghoons room, closing the door. You can’t stop yourself, and walk after them.

You lean towards his bedroom door and you can hear the sounds coming from their fun. The huffs, the puffs and the moans. You hear how the woman is calling for Sunghoons name, and that he should go faster and harder. The ache in your stomach grew bigger and bigger at her words, until you heard Sunghoons voice through the bedroom door. He sounds demanding, ordering her around, making her begg. Your body trembles, and you can feel your core getting wetter and wetter with any second. You have never heard Sunghoon like this, and you can’t get enough of it. You need more, your body can't physically leave.

Still listening, you slide down to the ground, your body still leaning against the door. You tilt your head back and take a deep breath as you slide in your hand in your panties. The fingers lightly touch against your wet core as you concentrate on Sunghoons demands, imagining that he is talking to you, that you are the woman he is messing around with in his bedroom. Your fingers slide in your pussy, imagining it is Sunghoon's cock roaming inside of you, stretching you out. While doing so, you use your thumb to massage your clit, bringing you closer to your release. It’s when you hear Sunghoons harsh demeanor switch to beautiful moans that you can’t take it anymore. As Sunghoon comes, so do you, making your hand completely coated with your own cum. What the fuck are you doing?You instantly get embarrassed, and run away as fast as possible to your friend's bedroom before you can get caught. The idea of washing your hands disappears when you hear the bedroom door open again.

It is five am, two hours after the ‘incident’, and you haven't slept throughout the whole night. How could you? The only thing you have thought about was the fact that you masturbated to your best friends dad, fucking. Not being able to wait for Yeri to wake up, you decide to go to the kitchen to eat something, and maybe wash your still cum-coated hand. Just as you were about to open the refrigerator, Sunghoon came out of the bathroom door. You turned around and instantly gaped at the sight. Sunghoon had just showered, only wearing a towel that was extremely low on his waist. He looks so sexy with his hair wet, and you can’t help but imagine what he would look like without that towel. "Y/n!" What are you doing this late?” He says looking at you embarrassed. She didn’t hear me earlier, right? Not being able to answer, you bite your lips and look down on your feet. You don’t know how to face him after you heard him earlier, and what you did while listening to him. He cocks an eyebrow, getting suspicious by the way you are acting and he walks towards you. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up before?” He says, trying to bite back a smile. “Ah, it’s okay…” you say, still looking down. This can’t possibly be happening right now. He gets closer to you now, so close you can smell the lavender soap he used while showering. “Oh so you did? Probably listened on purpose” He says and laughs teasingly, forgetting that you are his daughter's best friend, and not some random woman he met at the bar.

You look up at him to protest, only then noticing how close he is to you. Your hands come in front of your chest to bring some space between you and Sunghoon. “No I did not-”, before you can continue your pathetic statement, Sunghoon grabs your arm and lifts it up. He looks at your right hand, examines it, before to your surprise putting your fingers into his mouth. That was the fingers you touched yourself with earlier. You feel his tongue taste the cum of from your fingers. He takes out your fingers out of his mouth, licks his lips and looks at you with a teasing pout. “Aww did you touch yourself when you heard us? Did you get off? Did you finish?” He says, speaking to you as if you were a baby. You don’t know what you are going to say, deny? No, he already knows. Denying by now would only be foolish for you to do. It seems like the only thing for you to do is to stay quiet. The way you do not respond is enough for Sunghoon to understand the situation. He tilts his head to the side, using his other hand to tuck the hair behind your ear before grabbing your chin gently. Making sure to not hurt you.

“Don’t act so clueless, I know what filth you are reading. Your best friend's dad hm? How dirty of you.” You look up at him, biting your lips, almost trembling with fear for what he is about to do. What if you are not ready to live out the fantasies you almost always had about your best friend's dad. “You are so cute”. Sunghoon swipes his thumb over your bottom lip, gently, getting more rough by time with his touch. His thumb slowly enters your mouth, first playing with your bottom teeth, before making contact with your tongue. He looks at you with furrowed brows and an expression that could only be described as arousal.

His thumb is completely inside of your mouth, and you begin to suck on his thumb like it was his cock, looking up in his eyes. The rest of his hand is tightly grabbing your face, making you stuck on his thumb. He tilts his head back and sucks in his breath. “Just like that baby, soon you are ready for the big thing” He says teasingly. Suddenly you hear footsteps coming from Yeris' room. Quickly Sunghoon slides his thumb out of your mouth and runs back into the backroom. You quickly make your way to the refrigerator, acting naturally, looking for an early breakfast. Yeri steps into the kitchen and looks at you. “Are you seriously looking for food at five in the morning?”. You look back at her, kinda feeling bad since she doesn’t know what just happened. “Yeah, I got hungry.” You say, before grabbing yogurt from the fridge.

It’s Friday, two weeks after you sucked off Sunghoons thumb in his kitchen. Even though the natural thing to do after something like this is to avoid him at all cost, but since he is your best friend's dad, you can’t.

You are sitting with Yeri and Sunghoon in the kitchen by the table, eating dinner. Eating dinner with the Parks has always been something you enjoyed, but this is getting awkward. Sunghoon can’t even look at you, and you two have not been talking to each other since you got here. Not that Yeri seems to notice, she is all up in her own world talking about the latest anime she had seen. You try to concentrate on her word, doing your best to respond, but you can’t resist looking at her dad. You are such a horrible friend.

When you are done eating, you put the dishes in the sink. Normally both you and Yeri would help each other out with the dishes, but she chose to take a shower today instead of helping you. She claimed that she hasn’t showered for two days and needs her one hour shower immediately. You let her get away with it, this time at least, and decide to do the dishes yourself and be a good friend for once.

You are hand washing the plate clean, and drying it with a towel on the counter in front of you. The Parks keep their plates on the highest level of cabinet, which is difficult for you to reach, making you struggle. That is until you feel a hand grabbing the plate above your head, putting it in the right place. You already know who it is, and because of the incident that happened two weeks before, you don’t have the stomach to say anything. Your breath gets heavy, knowing that the figure behind you is your best friend's hot dad, making you weak in the knees just thinking about him. His hand suddenly appears on your waist. “It seemed like you needed help with the plate,” Sunghoon says while giving your waist a squeeze, earning you a small squeak. He leans into your neck and rubs his nose deep, smelling you, taking in your scent of adolescence. He parts his lips and gently places them on the back of your neck, gently kissing you up your neck to your ear. He bites your earlobe making you hiss. It’s all going extremely slow, and it’s obvious that he is teasing you. One of his hands is still on your waist, while the other is slowly going under your shirt creeping up your stomach, soon meeting your breast. Sunghoon is still kissing your neck when he grabs one of your tits, gently massaging it, occasionally giving it a squeeze which makes your back arch.

It's when you moan when Sunghoon suddenly stops, he takes his hands out of your shirt and puts them on your hips, still behind you. “We can’t do this y/n”. You look back at him. His face is flushed and his hair is messy. “You are my daughter's best friend. You are 18 years younger than me.” You are still looking at him, frustrated. You need him, now. You can't wait any longer. “No Sunghoon, Please, I need you to fuck me” You pathetically pleading to the older man. Suddenly his hold on your waist tightens and he pushes his clothed cock towards your ass, making you feel him. You gasp, pushing your ass back harder on his hard cock. “This is how you make me feel y/n, this. I can’t be around you. And doing this will only make it worse.” Despite his words he doesn’t stop grinding into you, af if he can’t. Only the feeling of his cock pressed on your ass is making you tilt your head back out of pleasure, leaning on his shoulder. You look up at him with pleading eyes “Please Hoon, I need you, I need your big cock”. He turns you around with force, making you face him. His big hand grabs both of your wrists pinning them above your head on the cabinet. His other hand pushes you up, being strong enough to make you sit on the counter just by the sink. Before you could say anything he grabs your chin and kisses you roughly. You let his tongue take completely over your mouth, and it almost hurts how wide your mouth is open. His tongue is deep in your mouth, showing dominance in not letting you breathe until he lets you.

He then pushes your mouth away from his, “Have you ever sucked someone off before, baby?” He says, his hand still pining your wrists. Not lying, you nod your head. He looks down at you and chuckles. “Of course you have, you dirty slut”. He says and lets go of your wrists, and pushes you on your knees in front of him. He unbuckles his belt, and drops down his pants to let his cock free. He is massive, and you can see the preecum leaking out of it. The sight makes your thighs squeeze together, something he noticed and loves. You look up at him, waiting for him to give you his orders, so you can follow him like his peasant. He smirks and licks his bottom lip, before biting it. He takes a fistfull of your hair, using it to control you and lower you towards his hard cock. You begin to lightly lick the tip, teasing him, before wrapping your mouth around the top of his cock. Sunghoon breathes out and tilts his head back “Ah, baby, just like that”. Looking up at him seeing how affected he gets by your mouth makes you even hornier, making you lean down on his cock even more. You remove his cock from his mouth to spit on it, which makes Sunghoon inpatient. He grabs our hair harder this time, and tilts your head up. “Open your mouth, slut” He says with a stern voice, and you follow his command. You open your mouth and he spits in it, making you moan at the ill treatment. You feel his spit sliding down your throat. He then slams his cock into your mouth, making you suck on it. He moans again at the feeling of your mouth, making you moan as well, vibrating his cock in your mouth.

Just as you think he is about to cum, he slides his dick out of you, and makes you stand up. “Why did you stop?” you plead, wanting him to use you as his mouth slut. He grabs your waist and makes you sit on the counter behind you. He takes off your shirt, as well as his, as you take off your pants. “I want to feel you before i cum”, His hand slides over your clothed pussy, and he can feel your wetness through the fabric. You tilt your head back, leaning against the cabinet. The feeling of his fingers lightly teasing your clothed clit makes you moan. “You want me to touch you that bad, baby?” he says and looks at you with big deer eyes. You whine out a yes, before his hand rips off your panties and touches your folds. “So wet for me already, did you get turned on that easily by sucking on daddy's cock?” The sight in front of him could make him cum alone. Your makeup is smudged, and your lips are covered in drool from all the sucking and kissing. Just the way you look at him, tells him how much you want him to get you off. His fingers finally slip into your tight hole, and you moan at the feeling. But it's not enough, you need his cock, and you need it before your best friend comes back.

“I need you Sunghoon, please I can’t wait any longer”, not having time to make fun of you, he has done that already by now, he quickly pulls his fingers out of you and brings his cock to your entrance.

He grabs his cock and slaps your pussy making you let out a loud groan. He knows he is massive, and makes sure to be extra careful with your fragile little body. You both let out a relieving moan at the same time as he pushes all of him into you. The feeling makes Sunghoon almost collapse, having to tilt his head on your shoulder. Your legs wrap around his waist to push him even more into you, making sure that you can take everything he has to offer. Because of the risk of getting caught, Sunghoon doesn’t waste a second before fucking himself into you, pushing his cock in and out of you in a rapid pase, almost too fast for you too handle. His hand is still by your neck, biting you to muffle any moans coming out of his plump lips hitting a sweet spot. This makes you moan, and grab his hair to stabilize yourself. Feeling close, you bring your hand down to draw circles on your clit. Sunghoon suddenly slaps your hand away to replace it with his own, making him do the work for you. Because of the foreplay, it’s not long until you cum, and by the time his hard steady thrusts become sloppier, and sloppier you know he is close too. He comes into your pussy, and slides his cock out of you, looking down at your drenched pussy leaking out his cum.

It’s then he looks at you with a stressed expression. “We need to clean up before Yeri comes back”. So that’s what you do. Sunghoon uses his shirt to clean you up, and help you put your clothes back on. You quickly do the dishes, getting help from Sunghoon putting it in the cabinet. After you have cleaned yourselves, and the kitchen, Sunghoon looks at you with regret in his eyes. “You didn’t do this because you felt pressured, did you? I’m older than you and would have easily taken advantage of you if I wanted to”. You look at him, smile, and walk up to him. You stand on your toes to reach up to his level and kiss his cheek, stabilizing yourself by putting your hands on his shoulders. You lean into his ear and whisper, “You are forbidden fruit Sunghoon, which happens to be my favorite flavor”

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I hoped you enjoyed this one-shot! Feel free to send requests. It can be everything from a one-shot request, to a hard thought that you want me to comment on 🥴.

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ddejavvu · 11 months

Note

jake with a shy!reader i feel like that man would be so down bad he’d be unrecognizable to his friends

Tailgating by the beach means sand in your hair (and everywhere else), a trash can full of beer bottles, and a whole lot of wipeouts. For most.

For you, it means Jake’s sweatshirt bunched up under your head like a pillow as your back rests against the metal grooves of his pickup’s bed. Your pinky is intertwined with the man’s own as you stargaze, avoiding the cloud of smoke billowing up from the bonfire.

“That one looks like an F-35.” He informs you, pointing at a constellation that is definitely not a fighter plane.

“I think that’s Draco.” You hum, “Not sure, though.”

Jake turns to you with a furrow in his brow, “That little shit from Harry Potter?”

“No!” You shriek, louder than you’re used to speaking. Jake has a way of making you forget your reservations, giving you the courage to speak up around him.

“It’s a constellation.” You quiet yourself, feeling Jake’s pinky tighten around yours. “I read that it was supposed to be in the sky tonight.”

“You read up on the stars?” Jake turns to you, propped on his side in the truck bed. It must be awful on his hips, but he does it anyways to gaze at your side profile.

You give him a front view, turning your head to stare back at him, “I didn’t do it on purpose, I just saw it on Instagram, I think. On someone’s story.”

He hums in acknowledgment, but neglects to return to stargazing. He’s yougazing now, his eyes tracing the curve from your chin to your cheek, then sloping down the bridge of your nose.

“Do you think-”

You’ll never know if you and Jake share thoughts on whatever matter is in his head, because a sudden thud against the mouth of the truck bed makes you startle, and Jake nearly breaks his neck sitting up to see who made the noise. You draw yourself upright but slower, more cautiously.

It’s one of his squadron members, you’ve seen the guy before in passing, but you don’t think he’s ever noticed you. He’s on the shorter side, and he’s quickly flanked by both Coyote and a taller, unknown counterpart.

“Hangman,” The short one snickers, “I was betting you were passed out somewhere with a bottle in your mouth, not schmoozing some poor woman in your truck.”

You’ve met Javy before, albeit briefly when you’d passed in the hallway of his and Jake’s shared apartment, and in the few terrifying seconds of confrontation your eyes stray over the man’s shoulder and meet Javy’s. He sends you a kind, sympathetic smile at the antics of his friend. You feel safe around him.

“What’s your name, honey?” The taller man leans over the side of the truck bed, a smirk on his face, “Last one was Brenda- no, Brianna.”

“Payback, that was months ago.” Javy snaps, and even though you know it’s true, Jake still looks guilty. He’d confessed in you that he wasn’t exactly a saint when it came to past relations, but all that mattered was the present for you; that you were the only one in it, and he’s stuck to that without a problem.

“I’m not schmoozing her, Fanboy.” Jake drawls, a vicious look in his eyes, “We were trying to have a private moment.”

Fanboy elbows Payback incredulously, shit-eating grins already on their faces, “Sex in a pickup! On the beach, in public. Jesus, man, there’s nothin’ you won’t do.”

“I won’t hesitate to break your nose if you don’t shut your mouth,” Jake seethes, and his free hand tenses into a fist even if he’s more bark than bite. Fanboy doesn't flinch, but Payback's smirk dims.

"Lay off, man." Coyote elbows Fanboy, "It's not like that."

"The only reason you've never met'er before is 'cause I knew you'd act like this," Jake scoffs, "Doesn't mean she's some cheap fling."

You desperately want to intervene, but you don't have the words to do it even if you tried. There's a thousand swirling in your brain, but there's a stopper in its drain to your mouth, a thick clog of panic.

"Well what is your name?" Payback repeats his question, more considerate this time. You're glad he seems to have dropped his bravado, even if you're not sure Fanboy has.

"Y/N," You manage to speak, glad that you know your own name well enough to utter it even when your brain doesn't cooperate. You don't say much else, though, and Javy fills in for your silence.

"She's Jake's girl," Javy smiles at you, happy to see his friend settling down, "She's not big on talking. Not to assholes like you, anyways."

"Well that's great," Fanboy's demeanor is much nicer when he's not goading his teammate, "'Cause Jake never shuts up. Sounds like a match made in heaven."

"I'm gonna send you to hell if you don't leave us alone," Jake glares pointedly at Fanboy in particular, but the expression is extended to Payback as well, "I wasn't kidding, we were having a conversation."

"That's our cue," Coyote informs the other two, who knew but weren't willing to give up their teasing leverage. He rings an arm each around their necks, bidding you a kind goodbye as he leads them away.

"Darlin'," Jake turns to you as soon as they're gone, like a guard dog that eases out of attack mode, "I'm so sorry. They don’t mean any harm, just- they seriously don't know when to quit, 'probably comes from bein' so aggressive in the air. I'm sorry they were so pushy."

"It's alright," You nod, "It's not your fault, Jake. I'm not angry, I just- I was a little embarrassed."

"I know," He hums sympathetically, leaning in to peck your lips, "I know baby. Listen, now they've met you, they'll probably back off. And if they don't, if you see 'em around somewhere and they try messin' with you, you let me know and I might accidentally fire on 'em in an exercise."

"I don't think you should murder your friends," You tamp down a smile at Jake's suggestion, because the last thing he needs is encouragement, "But I hope I don't see them when you're not around."

A hundred feet away, down on the smooth, wet sand of the shore, Coyote finally lets Payback and Fanboy go, shoving their heads down with the force of his grip around their necks.

"Ow, dude!" Fanboy gripes, but he deserves it the most, "If I'm gonna break my neck it's gonna be in the air, in some sick-ass stunt maneuver."

"Your sick ass needs to learn to shut up," Coyote scoffs, "He's serious about that girl, man! And I wouldn't be surprised if she was running for the hills now."

"C'mon, Coyote, we were just teasing," Payback pleads his case, but Coyote narrows his eyes.

"You can't tease her, not like that. Hell, the first time she ever came over I made a joke about wearing noise-cancelling headphones for them and she couldn't look me in the eye for weeks."

"The first time she came over," Payback's brow furrows, "He's been bringing her around your guys' place?"

"I told you he was serious," Coyote throws a glance back over to Jake's truck, where his hand is pointed in the air once more, "Know any other reason he'd be stargazing right now?"

Fanboy's face wrinkles in a confused grimace, "Stargazing? He's way too douchey for that."

"He's way too in love not to," Payback marvels, "Holy shit. That's- I can't process that, man, that's weird."

"Get used to it," Coyote takes a swig of his beer, "Y'know he's been lighting candles in our apartment for her? I mean, it's nice, 'cause it gets rid of his nasty laundry smell, but candles. Hangman, candles!"

Fanboy rears his head back, "What scent?"

"Lavender."

"Lavender?"

"I know!"

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #hangman fanfiction #hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x y/n #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader

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kneelingshadowsalome · 11 months

Note

Hi !!!! I’m sorry if this is bothering you and if so you can totally ignore this but…

I’ve been thinking about how Ghost would react to reader gradually pulling away from him because she gained some weight and is self conscious and ashamed and doesn’t want to be seen by him, so sculpted and beautiful… but of course he’s feeling low because he wants to be close to reader and so he asks and she finally explains it to him (ready to be broken up with…)…. And I’d love to read your take on it !

You can make it female or gender neauteal I don’t really care !!!! Thank you anyway ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Wildflowers Grow in Ruins

(Ghost x F!Reader, word count: 5 k)

Summary: Reader tries to break up with Ghost because she thinks she's not good enough for him.

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, soft sensual smut 🔞, hurt/comfort, light angst, Jealous!Ghost, Soft!Ghost, self-loathing & self-body shaming. Good girl talk/praise kink. Reader is female and wears a skirt for smut plot purposes.

A/N: I hope you like this take & I hope you don't mind that I tweaked this request just a little bit!) Also: JFC I'm wordy. The "I need to explain why they're fucking!" meme comes to mind every time I write anything.

Wars are exhausting.

You know fighting for something can empower people. Fighting against something usually just depletes your strength.

But waging a war against yourself…

Now that is pure hell.

It started somewhere in your youth. You thought adulthood would take it away; that reason and tolerance would take it away. You were supposed to feel more confident in yourself, more positive about life. And for a moment, you thought you might just succeed.

But standing beside a god of war is no easy feat.

He came into your life like a walking myth, swept you away, and you only laughed as you went. It was fun at first. He was supposed to be your savior, the solution to all your problems. If a man like him found you attractive, perhaps it was the world that was crooked and not you.

But then you got soft: you started to gain pounds. Meanwhile, he became even more magnificent. It reminded you that it had all been just a dream.

Perhaps it was his eyes that seemed to worship you, that seemed to look past your every flaw. Perhaps it was the hands which never seemed to get enough of your skin. Whatever it was, it was too much. And at the same time, never enough.

The day has finally come to let him go.

You think yourself heroic. It's like it should be: it's only right that you finally release him to someone better than you.

But inside, the noble feelings twist and turn and curl around your throat and stuff your stomach full of ice - the kind they fill glasses of mojito with. The drink you'll always remember him by because he teased you about it: that you wanted an ice-cold summer drink even in the middle of winter.

Now you feel cold all over, and wish he could warm you like he used to.

You would forsake all the mojitos of the world to keep him. You would renounce the whole drink if it came to that; if you could make him yours.

But he's not yours. He never was: he was just on loan to give you a taste of what it would be like to have a man like him. That taste should be more than enough for a lifetime. You should feel grateful.

So why is it so hard to let go?

The key on the front door turns, and your heart shoots up your throat: you're supposed to settle this thing once and for all. You're supposed to let go of him today.

And still, when he arrives, you can't find the courage to say what you need to say. The words are stuck in your throat, but tears are not. He should already be a memory, but you find yourself suffocating on memories as you cry. You've learned to do even that in silence, like the rest of your suffering.

You take a few deep breaths, wipe the tears away, shove the rest of them down your throat – you save them for later, later, when he's far away and you can finally curl up and cry your heart out without no one there to look. Fucking later.

Good.

Great.

You put your heaviest armor on. It protects weak and soft flesh because you can't meet him all bare. Then you step forward with the knowledge that you’re a thoroughly wounded guerrilla while he is a seasoned, well-rested veteran. The fight is nowhere near even, but it's ok. You are not meant to be in the presence of immortals anyway.

The man looks at you warily as you finally enter the room. That haunted look has followed you for some time now as the distance between you has grown.

It should be easy, what is about to come, because he hasn't touched you in weeks. You haven't wanted him to.

Or you have… But it's not easy to have his hands on you when your body is only a vessel you hate. How can you even think about pleasure when all you think about is how it must feel for him to caress something as awful as this?

The man is a vision, and he settles for a peasant. It should be against the law, but it's not… so you figured a some time ago that you should simply find the strength and grace to do ii: do what's right.

"I need to talk to you."

Your voice comes out neutral, and it makes you more confident, if only for a second or two.

He lifts his chin: already knows what's coming, because he's not stupid. You've been shutting down for weeks, and he hasn't done much about it. But when the thunder rolls in, he doesn't flee. Probably because he fears nothing.

"Go ahead then," he says, equally as neutral, equally as icy. Got his armor on, too.

This should be easy…

It's really not, so you decide to rip the band-aid off in one yank.

"I think we should go separate ways."

The following inhale from across the room pierces the air like a bullet. You can hear his breaths gain depth and speed all the way to where you're standing.

"Ok."

It doesn't look or sound like he's ok. If anything, he looks like he's trying to process the sudden storm.

"Ok…" His eyes are on the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. Then he starts to pace around the little kitchenette you've shared for almost six months, just before you started gaining weight.

He stops to look out the window, then turns to you, and the hurt in his stare comes through like a thousand needles pushing through skin.

"Is it because of my work?"

"No."

"What is it then?"

Your breaths are getting out of hand, too. He looks like a lost, tired creature in an abandoned animal shelter for a moment, and it breaks your heart. It squeezes the organ inside a flaming fist until it shatters like it has never been nothing more than ice.

Your lip starts to tremble, and he notices, as per usual. Nothing escapes this man, except perhaps the true reason for your anguish.

"Hey. Hey."

He comes to you and hugs you like it's the only thing that matters: to comfort you when he sees you're about to cry, no matter how crushed he's feeling himself. The sudden warmth, the intimacy after weeks and weeks of pain is knee-buckling.

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"

His voice is soft, so soft… The tears rush forth now; there's no way of stopping them. What the hell can you even say to a question like that? That you wish he could grab a magic wand and turn you into someone gorgeous, the woman he deserves?

His embrace feels good, kind of. It also feels smothering because your self-hate makes you want to disappear from existence entirely. His eyes are equal to physical touch, a probing scan that sees every little flaw, not to talk about massive faults, the ones which make you feel like you're simply disgusting. His touch only reminds you how you must feel like to him: soft, too soft, weak.

And he must hate weakness.

"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he tries with a parched throat, then swallows.

It's fucking horrible. This isn't going at all like you had imagined.

"It's not about you," you struggle out of his hold, and he lets you go with reluctance. You have to basically fight your way out of a bone and steel prison. Why would he even want to hold a pathetic woman who's on the brink of ugly crying on top of everything?

"What do you mean?"

He's slightly breathless – and restless as fuck. He's usually so calm; nothing can get to him, nothing can rattle the tower of raw strength. Now you've not only pierced some invisible armor; you can hear pieces of it falling on the floor.

"Have you found someone else?"

What the…

"No." You put as much weight on that word as you possibly can. To imagine that he thinks you are cheating… Fucking cheating on someone like him. "Jesus Christ…"

He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply, sighs out relief, perhaps. Then his razor-sharp stare fixes on you again, and you can see the fear turning into something akin to concern. You suspect you have to tell him the truth, otherwise he will dig it out of you.

"I'm just…"

Jesus, this is just humiliating.

"I'm just not your type."

"What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, the impending fury giving way to momentary surprise.

He gets intense sometimes. This time, the ferocity is born of barely concealed distress. He's broad and magnificent, even in despair. He’s just so fucking fine… The perfect man, someone you had never even imagined yourself with. Pulled down to the world of puny mortals, evidently stressing about losing one.

Losing you.

"If you have someone new, you can just bloody well tell me."

"It's not that. You don't understand–"

"Try me."

"I just…" A tear escapes down your face as you finally break for him. "I'm fat. Okay? And ugly. And–"

"Stop right there."

The look on his face is just… It's priceless, you suppose.

"Bloody fucking hell…"

He looks at the floor, then runs his fingers through the short cut hair on top of his head. You've yanked those blonde strands more times than you can count, nearly every time he's been between your legs, and you miss it – you long for it, like fallen angels long for heaven.

And if there was a time this man was rendered speechless, you would say you were witnessing that moment right now. His brows knit together, then he looks up at you again with blaring disbelief.

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

"This is the reason you wanna break up?"

Ugh.

"Yes?"

His voice grows rougher with every question until it resembles thunder, and you suspect this is the commanding tone his soldiers are used to hearing.

But you're not: it's gravelly, harsh, and betrays the feeling of having been insulted. You feel even more devastated with yourself – it appears you can do nothing right.

"Where has this… idea even come to your head?"

"I don't know."

"And you never thought to ask my opinion?"

"Would you please stop yelling," you whisper and blink back some putrid tears. His mouth is snapped shut, his head pulls back just a little as he realizes what he's done.

"Sorry," he says with a half-whisper, and you catch the strain in his throat. You've never seen him cry, but now his voice is suddenly thin and frail. "I'm sorry."

He takes a step, then another, places fingertips on the counter as if to take the faintest support.

"Can I touch you?"

You don't really want him to do that, but you feel pity for the man. He's trying to find a way through this mess, and you want to help him.

"Yes," you whisper, and he immediately comes and takes you in his arms again. Hot tears disappear into his shirt, and you sniff a few times. He feels so good, so safe, even when you're about to lose him. His hold tightens around you, and the kitchen is silent; the whole world is silent. You don't know if you're being put to a grave or if you're in a deaf womb, waiting to be reborn.

"Now I don't know who's said this shite to you but ugly is the last fucking thing I'd call you," he declares above you. As if it was some bully whose fault it is that you were this way, a bully he could deal with with his fists or a gun. If only things were that easy…

"Have I said or done something? To make you feel this way?"

Then the blade is turned against himself. The man desperately searches for a culprit so he can deal with them.

"No," is the only thing you can say because it's true: he has never done a thing to make you feel like you weren't good enough; quite the contrary. But then again, he doesn't have to. It's enough that he exists and resembles a god.

"Then why do you think you're not my type?"

"Because you're so perfect," you hear yourself wail, no, cry into that shirt that smells of sweet safety and familiar musk – his scent, another thing you have missed like it's the only way to heaven.

"That for sure ain't true."

"But it is."

He seems to have the utmost difficulty in grasping what the issue here is. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head with a rusty, laborious creak.

"Can't believe you wanna break up because of this," he finally says. You've chipped his pride, the ego that lives off of pleasing the ones he loves: the few chosen ones who he wants to give his whole life to.

"To me, you're perfect," he then says, and you simply… You stop breathing. "You're like… my dream woman. Ever thought about that?"

It can't be true, even if you vehemently, desperately want it to be. You reach out to his words like they're precious food after years of famine. Like they're sun and spring rain after being buried in the cold, dark soil whole winter.

"No…?"

"Never occurred to you that I might find you fucking beautiful?"

"Stop," you whisper, because it's too much to take in. He sounds so serious, so sincere.

"No, I don't think I will."

He pulls back a little and cups your face. Brushes away a tear, looks at you with so much love that it physically hurts; you feel like it's a lance that slowly drives through your heart.

"How about I kiss every part I love about you?"

You let out a soft little whimper. Fuck, that you want him to…

It would also be uncomfortable as hell. To try and let him love you and your body, which you have grown to loathe.

"It's gonna take all night, though. Wanna be as thorough as possible."

"Simon–"

"Love. I want you. Thought I'd made it pretty clear, but apparently I haven't. If you only knew how much–"

He sighs deeply. The man is frustrated with his shortcomings, thinks that this is all his fault. You cry a tear or two just for the sake of how absurd it all is.

"I don't want you to go. I fucking love you. Everything about you."

For the second time this afternoon, your lower lip starts to tremble as if this was some stupid, romantic movie. He can be so soft when he wants to, more romantic than the soft-spoken gentlemen in Jane Austen's novels. It doesn't even require any effort: underneath the cynical surface, there's fiery emotion, so powerful and raw that it almost bleeds out of him. Fuck… Does he even know what he's doing to you?

"I love you too," you whisper back, and the warmth that starts to bloom in his eyes is an entire sun on its own. It's hope, and you believe him, almost believe him.

"Then I'd say it's a bloody bad idea to break up."

You chuckle while few more tears push through to the surface.

"Simon…" You sigh and look back up at him, your armor falling to the floor too. "I feel like a wreck."

You allow him to see the pain, all of it. His breath is sharp as it hits him, but he still doesn't waver.

"Then let me help you."

The arms around you gain more strength, and you're crushed against a chest made of power. He tries to turn shit to gold, and threatens to succeed. You allow yourself to soften in his hold. How good it feels to be supported – no, loved.

"You don't even let me touch you anymore."

It's a filed complaint, but also heart-rending, soul-wrenching longing. You have evaded him for weeks now – hell, this shit began months ago and has escalated gradually, stealthily, until the moments together were a rarity, the space between you was full of frost; and not the crispy, happy summer drink kind.

"I thought you'd found someone else. Could've found out if that was the case in minutes, but honestly, I didn't wanna know."

Oh my God…

Has he lived with a growing suspicion and dread all these months?

That would explain why he has avoided you too…

He has allowed you to go to your supposed lover, has given you space to be alone and without too much attention. The man has shielded himself from pain.

Jesus fucking Christ.

"I'm so sorry," you say with a strained little breath. "I swear it's nothing like that. I just… I feel like a mess."

"Never seen such a gorgeous mess."

He speaks on your skin, the kiss on your forehead feels like an absolution.

Then you notice it's not only his words which try to assure you. He's growing harder by the minute against your stomach, just from a simple hug. Just from being pressed against you like this, after weeks of dry, bitter longing.

"Miss your taste," he murmurs to your skin, his voice like sand wrapped in burning velvet. "The sounds you make when you want it hard."

Oh God–

"Miss your smile when we go to shower after."

"Hmh…"

"Don't wanna live without that smile."

You don't have to.

God, you don't have to…

"How about we make a deal," he draws fingers down your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. His eyes are stripped from the cold distance that greeted you just moments ago: now they are filled with warmth that spreads to your chest and belly and bones. You drink him in like summertide.

"You come to me every time you feel bad and I'll make you feel good. Alright?"

"...Ok."

He tilts his head a little to the side, not entirely satisfied with your shy little answer.

"Come on. Make me believe it."

"It's a deal," you say with more grit to it, even if you're nearly crying again, this time from relief.

"That's my girl."

Oh fuck…

He knows exactly what strings to pull, the good girl talk being one of the things that instantly makes your legs feel like jelly.

And why does he always have to use that voice when he calls you a good girl or his girl, that sultry smoke that makes you want to swoon until he catches you and carries you to bed?

The man seems to be a mind reader as well, because he sweeps you off your feet and does exactly that: carries you to your bed which has mainly seen silent tears and painful sleep last months.

"Poor thing doesn't even know how lovely she is."

He sounds amused in the face of your darkness: sees it in full and still doesn't fear at all. He's ready to battle your demons for you, and you feel like shaking: from his touch and that voice, from the stress and loneliness that starts to release as he lays you down on the bed.

He looks so different from the man that has haunted this place for the past months, the complete opposite of the reserved soldier retreating into the shadows.

He moves to kiss you, and it's been – what? Weeks since your last kiss? And even that was only a quick peck, nothing like this… Wet, and desperate; a devouring. It makes you clench around nothingness, and you finally surrender.

No one can fake such fervor.

You try to accept it: accept the fact that even if you hate yourself, he does not. For some reason, he adores you. His breaths hit your face hot and urgent, and he can't keep his hands to himself anymore. They wander over your waist and hips, they even risk to steal a feel of your breasts, and then he groans in your mouth.

"I've missed you. Fuck, I've missed you..."

You taste notes of burning leaves; tobacco, his only weakness. You fantasize on the thought that you might be another weakness, too.

"Remember when I fucked you in my office?"

"I've missed you too," you utter softly in between the kisses that threaten to turn into a sloppy mess. "So much..."

He smiles at that, and it makes you weak, even when lying down like this.

"Yeah…?"

"You were so loud I had to put a hand over your mouth."

His voice is thick as he laughs a short chuckle. Your inner walls clench again at the sound, you throb among the warm syrup surrounding you.

"Never seen you so wet. Almost dripped all over my gear."

"It's that stupid mask you wear," you hear yourself breathe like you've just been underwater. Feel yourself throb some more, feel a burning sensation in the nether areas from the scorched desert turning wet again. You want him so much that it actually hurts down there.

"Knew you'd like it. That's why I kept it on."

If this man keeps talking, your underwear is going to be utterly ruined. And of course he does; of course he continues to pour more love in your ear.

"Everyone looked at you like you were a queen," he grunts in your ear, sounding almost… pissed.

"Don't be ridiculous," you try to form sensible words. It's only a faint breath, really, but he huffs at your modesty.

"You don't have eyes in the back of your head, love."

Wow… He is a bit pissed.

Had they checked your ass out when you visited him?

It was the first and, what you thought, the last time you got to visit him at his workplace… but you never would have guessed the reason for him not asking you to visit again would be jealousy.

"Don't worry. I put those fuckers in their place after you left."

Whoa.

Ok…

First, he had fucked you senseless in his office – a highly inappropriate move for a man in his position – then got jealous because some soldiers had checked you out as you left with his cum practically dripping from your cunt.

You put yourself in his shoes for a moment: he's had to live with thoughts of you running to some other man's arms when he's not home, and then watch you waltz around his workplace after making what was supposed to be the last effort to make him love you… When he has loved and adored you this whole time, has watched the sway of your ass with the rest of those home-deprived, horny soldiers, thinking you had fallen out of love and were on your way to go see some other guy.

Had he invited you there to try and win you back, too? By showing himself to you in all his puffed up, masculine glory? A desperate man in a skull mask, hoping to get love from you…

There's so many misunderstandings; they rip your throat. A sob escapes, and he stops his caress.

"Love… Tell me to stop if you–"

"No. No, I don't want you to stop."

Your request comes out with such demand that he hesitates only a second or two. Then he moves on top of you and tugs your skirt up. You don't even have time to realize what is happening before he has worked himself out of his pants.

He's hard and heavy between your legs, and your eyes go wide as you realize he's not going to bother to take your briefs off. He just slides a hand under the skirt and draws the fabric aside, and the fat tip of him is pushed in the middle almost clumsily. It's hot, and slips down to your opening with ease.

Oh f–

"Been jerking off to you nearly every night at the base," he says just before he pushes himself in.

"Uh–...."

Your thighs spread wide as he fills you slowly, inch after inch. The sound that leaves him is starved: a dry, painful sigh. He's been waiting for this for god knows how long, and you're just as hungry to take him in. He seems endless, the way he finally works himself fully inside, spreading you even wider as the thickening base of his cock reaches its end.

"Thought you were getting railed by someone else while I only get to fuck my hand."

"Oh god…"

There's really nothing else to say as his balls press against you, heavy and taut. He's not going to last long.

"Yeah. Imagine that," he admits, breathless like you.

You look at him with what must be the most helpless stare of longing in your eyes. Then he moves, and you want to grip him to keep him inside. The first thrusts are divine, they're pure heaven, and your head sinks deep into the pillow as you try to get enough air, try to not scream from pleasure already. Somehow, all you are able to utter is a desperate little whisper.

"Simon–"

His cock is good enough to bring tears to your eyes. You're starving too, you're pulling him in with fierce hunger, and he groans, then nearly falls forward, his weight pressing against you, swallowing you, until you feel like you're an idiot for thinking that you're too big. The thickness of his chest rubs against you as he makes love to you with passion that echoes the first times you did this.

"Just wanna adore you, love." He's panting desperate somewhere above you. A god and a man, both furious and gentle. "I wanna adore you. Just like this."

You answer him with what must be those sounds he told you about, the sounds you make when you want it hard.

You want him to fuck you, to wreck you after weeks of loneliness and hate. To love you until you break into a million pieces.

"Simon," you whisper. "...Love me."

He halts, huffs in your neck. It's almost a sob. There's so much emotion and desperation in the air that it could be scooped up and sold in the streets.

"Always," he rasps in your ear, then moves to kiss you again. "Always."

The promise echoes around you, it coats your lips as he loves you with all he has. It's been so long, and he feels so good that you nails dig into his shirt, his shoulder, you try to hold onto him even though he's the wave that rocks you.

"You feel that?" He goes deep; he's out of breath and desperate, even more desperate than you. "That's love. You feel it, yeah?"

"Yes," you sob in his shoulder, tears trying to escape your waterline as you're going dumb from the pure sensation, the sensuality of it all.

"That's it, love. That's a good girl," he turns to your neck and gruffs in your ear as you whimper and moan. "Always such a good girl."

Shit…

"I, I'm gonna…"

Your legs wrap around his middle, your muscles twitch and your hands reach and grab – they claw and yank and tug everything they can: his back, shoulders, shirt, something sturdy to keep you from drowning in a glorious orgasm.

He laughs in your neck and continues to grind you through your climax even when you're shattering, sighing, moaning, writhing under him. He just laughs, the man who never laughs: from witnessing you respond to him calling you a good girl.

Fucking bastard…

Lovable, infuriating bastard who knows you to your core.

You're an overstimulated heap by the time he comes as well, not long after you, but long enough to make you feel like you're only a tender bunch of nerves. Your legs have fallen to the side, he has open access to take what he needs: you, your love, all of it.

His whole middle goes tense as he cums, he groans and swears somewhere deep into your neck, rolls his hips over and over again like it's a must that his balls press against you with every thrust that shoot his load.

Then he falls slack, nearly collapses on top of you, reminding you of what it feels like to be small under a giant like him. You're throbbing together, you're full and fulfilled, and he is still lodged deep inside you, panting and broken in a sweat.

"Jesus Christ…"

He sounds dazed.

Relieved.

"Should've done this weeks ago."

You laugh at seeing him so done – a man in love, torn by jealous yearning, finally taking what's his. You stroke his neck, his back – it's so good to have him finally there… So close, with no barriers in between.

"I should've talked to you weeks ago..."

"Yeah. You should have."

"Are you going to punish me?" You giggle a little – the flirt is light and frees your heart further from its recent jail. He moves to look at you with all the tenderness there is. It's too much... His love is too much. But you won't run from it anymore.

"Nah. Think I'm gonna spoil you some more."

He spoils you right away with a kiss. You surrender to his treatment with happiness: happy tears, even.

The medicine to your anguish has been the exact opposite to what you had first tried, what you had originally thought. The true remedy for your sickness is mercy. Perhaps some spoiling…

And love.

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