I bet you all thought youâd seen the last of me, huh?
You ignored Wingâs texts for two weeks, and they were the longest two weeks of your life. Every message he sent made your stomach grow heavy, and your chest grow tight.
âCan I see you again?â
âAre you all right?â
âCan you please let me know if youâre okay?â
You knew that the wisest, kindest thing to do would be to respond to him. To tell him that you didnât think seeing him again was a good idea. That you wished him the best, and that you were sorry. And yet, you couldnât. Despite knowing that you didnât have it in you to leave your husband, and that the double life you were leading was unsustainable, you couldnât. Wing had opened a window to happiness and warmth, and you couldnât bring yourself to close it.
As the days passed, his texts dwindled, becoming less and less frequent until they finally stopped altogether. It was a heartbreaking relief.
If Pariston had noticed any change in your demeanor, he didnât let on. He didnât pay you any special attention, good or otherwise. He stayed out late at the office most nights, and came home smelling faintly of expensive perfume more often than not. Once, youâd noticed a smudge of red lipstick on his collar. It was so glaringly obvious, so very cliche, that you were sure that heâd done it on purpose. That he wanted you to see.
The calm, almost smug look that he gave you when your eyes rested on the incriminating red smudge that night almost seemed like a taunt. A challenge. Like Pariston was daring you to say something. You refused to give him the satisfaction. Refused to let on just how much it hurt. Despite everything Pariston had done, despite the gleeful sadism he injected into your marriage every day, you still loved him far more than heâd ever loved you. And Pariston knew it.
Your resolve not to contact Wing cracked a few nights afterwards. As you composed a text to him, guilt flooded your chest; you were lonely, hurting, and desperately in need of affection. Wing could give you that and more, and yet you knew that you could only offer him part of yourself. Wing deserved better.
Still, your guilt wasnât strong enough to stop you from sending him an apologetic message and a request to meet again. Nor was it enough to make you feel any remorse when he responded less than five minutes later, suggesting you go over to his place when he got off work. You knew that what you were doing, meeting him without making any plans to leave your husband, was utterly unfair to him. And yet, when you thought about the way Wing looked at you, the way his dark eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled, the gentle way in which he touched you, you couldnât bring yourself to care.
***
You hadnât intended to be overly emotional when you showed up at Wingâs apartment, but the second he opened the door to let you in, you flung yourself into his arms and buried your face in his chest, mumbling a series of muffled apologies into the rumpled fabric of his shirt.
Wing stiffened at first contact, but soon enough relaxed and wrapped his arms around you, placing a soft, tender kiss to the top of your head. He held you like that, softly, securely, for a few minutes, neither pushing you away nor bringing you closer. When you finally pulled back, you fixed him with an apologetic stare.
âWing, Iâm so sorry, I owe you an explanation.â
He shook his head, his dark eyes gentle. âNo, you donât. Itâs okay.â
âNo, itâs not.â You sighed. âI- I couldnât⊠I thought if IâŠâ Your voice stopped working when you found that you were unable to turn the jumble of words and thoughts swirling through your head into coherent sentences.
And Wing, sweet, kind, patient Wing understood. He sighed softly, ran his fingers through his messy hair and gave you one of his gentle half-smiles. â___, itâs okay. Really. I get it. You donât have to-â
You cut him off with a kiss. It wasnât intentional. You had wanted to talk more, to make him listen, to somehow convince him that you werenât worth his time. But instead, you kissed him, and he reciprocated.
No words were exchanged as the two of you made your way to the bedroom. Wingâs lips were on you most of the way, his hands firmly on your hips as he guided you. You undressed yourselves quickly without shyness or reverence; the two of you had your minds set on being in bed, joined together, your bodies pressed close without any barriers.
As soon as he undressed himself, Wing was on you again, his hands running up your sides, over your breasts, his mouth on your neck. You allowed him to back you towards the bed, falling backwards when the backs of your legs hit the mattress. Wing went with you, pulling back just enough to let you reposition yourself amongst the blankets and pillows. Once you were situated, he crawled back on top of you, caging you in with his arms as he lavished you with kisses, soft, gentle, with just a hint of a bite.
You ran your fingers through his hair, biting your lip when he nipped at your collarbone before moving lower towards your breasts. When he ran his tongue over a nipple, you let out a soft whine. Your eyes fluttered shut as he began to suck, his hand moving up your body to cup and knead your other breast.
When he pulled away, you expected him to settle between your thighs, but instead he pressed a kiss to your sternum and worked his way down, between your breasts, over your soft stomach, towards your sex. You let out a choked gasp when you felt his tongue, warm and wet, swipe over your folds and swirl around your clit.
Wing was a clumsy man, but there was nothing clumsy or sloppy about the way he lapped at you, the way his tongue ran over every sensitive inch of skin. When you felt him begin to work you open with his long, tapered fingers, you ran your hand over his scalp, your fingers raking through his hair.
All too soon, he withdrew his fingers, kissed his way back up your body, and slotted himself neatly between your spread legs. You spread your legs a bit more to better accommodate him, and grabbed his shoulders to steady yourself. When he kissed you as he pushed inside, you tasted yourself on his tongue.
Wing paused for a moment, breathing heavily, his cock buried inside you. The two of you exchanged lazy kisses; you could feel his cock twitch deep in your heat. Finally, he began to move, taking you with deep, lazy thrusts.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, eager to keep him close. As Wing continued to move against you, you felt that deep, hot tautness in your abdomen taking shape, and clung to him even more desperately. You were sure that if you didnât, you would fall apart.
â___, you feel⊠you feelâŠâ Wingâs words were interrupted by a throaty groan as his hips snapped forward to bury himself in you again. He shifted his weight for a moment, reaching up to grab your hand and pin it to the bed, his fingers interlacing with yours. His lips pressed against your neck, his teeth grazing softly along your jugular, careful not to leave a mark.Â
You did not have any such reservations, and when his cock bumped against a particularly sensitive spot, you gasped and bit his shoulder. The action spurred him on, and he increased the pace, fucking into you earnestly with hints of desperation. His breaths had begun to grow ragged and uneven, and a series of deep, masculine groans emanated from his chest as he moved.
You soon found yourself on the precipice of release, the tautness between your legs reaching a dizzying intensity. When Wing moaned out your name and nipped at your ear it became too much, and your world fell away. The clenching of your muscles proved too much for Wing to withstand for long, and he reached his own peak just moments later, slamming into you and finishing with a deep groan of your name.
He remained atop you for a few minutes after, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks and mouth. When he finally rolled off, he immediately gathered you into his arms.
âWas that okay?â He kissed your shoulder and sighed contentedly.
âMore than okay.â You smiled at him. âPerfect.â
He laughed sheepishly, and reached over to the bedside table to retrieve his glasses. âI want to be able to actually see you,â he explained, somewhat shyly as he put them on.
âI hope it was okay, that I uh⊠finished. Inside. Iâm sorry, I should have asked.â He cleared his throat, his hand running over the swell of your hips.
âItâs fine. Iâm on the pill. Nothing to worry about.â
âStill. I should have asked.â He lapsed into thoughtful silence, which he broke a few minutes later.
â___⊠do you want to leave him?â
The question caught you off guard. âHm?â
âYour husband. Are you happy with him? Do you want to stay with him?â
You sighed. âWingâŠâ
âYou should leave him, you know. Not necessarily for me. But just, in general.â
You glanced at him. He was staring at the ceiling, brow slightly furrowed.
âI know. Youâre right, itâs just-â
âComplicated. I know.â
You sighed and nodded. You hoped it would be the end of the matter, but Wing had other ideas.
âDo you love him?â
You stiffened in Wingâs arms, unsure of what to say exactly.
âI⊠I think Iâm just⊠I donât know. Maybe I do. Maybe I love who he used to be.â
Who he pretended to be.
Wing nodded, eyes still thoughtful. âLook, I canât force you to do anything. This is ultimately up to you. But for what itâs worth, I think you should leave him. For your own sake.â
There was nothing forceful or insistent about his words; Wing was being sweet and reasonable, his voice as kind and patient as always. Yet, you felt a surge of irritation at his words.
âIâll handle it, okay? Can we just⊠drop it? Please?â You immediately regretted your sharp tone of voice. âIâm sorry. Itâs just been rough. And confusing. Iâm sorry.â
âYeah⊠I know. Iâll let it be.â Wing gave you a soft kiss on the cheek. âWhat time do you have to go back?â
âI donât knowâŠâ You thought about it. About returning home to wait for Pariston to return, dick still wet from his latest infidelity. About the saccharine way heâd ask you about your day. Anger flared in you, and you came to a decision.
âYou know what? Who cares?â
â___âŠâÂ
âNo, really.â You turned in Wingâs arms to face him. âWhy should I hurry home to greet the man who is probably fucking his secretary as we speak?â
Wing sighed. âHeâll suspect something. You know he will.â
âLet him. Heâs taken enough from me. I donât care what he thinks.â
As you snuggled against Wing, resting your head on his chest, you found that for the first time in a very long time, you truly didnât.
***Â
You ended up staying with Wing until the early hours of the morning. When you saw your husbandâs car in the driveway, you ignored the nagging nervousness that tugged at your chest. Pariston didnât have a leg to stand on, after all. Heâd been having affairs for years, and put very little effort into hiding it. Taking a deep breath, you braced yourself for the barrage of questions that were sure to be thrown your way when you went to bed.
To your surprise, however, Pariston didnât stir when you entered the bedroom. When you showered, dried off, and got into bed next to him, he didnât move either. This was odd, because Pariston had always been a very light sleeper, but you figured that he must have tired himself out.
As you felt yourself drift off to sleep, you allowed yourself to relive what had transpired at Wingâs apartment, and to revel in the warmth that such thoughts provided you.
I wouldn't say that. I'm just suffering from complete anhedonia and nothing is enjoyable for me anymore. I don't want to churn out halfassed scenarios for the sake of keeping the blog active. If/when things get better and I regain my ability to enjoy things I'll write again.
I got a couple messages from followers who know I'm a swamp-dwelling Floridian so I'll just make a post saying that I'm fine! The hurricane was supposed to hit my area dead on but veered south at the last second. I had to evacuate, but ultimately everything ended up okay for me. My home sustained minimal damage aside from some fallen trees. If any of you did get hit by the storm, I hope you're all safe too.
I got some good prompts! Will work on them in the coming days.
It also occurs to me that many of y'all might not be familiar with Quizilla because it disappeared in like 2014 and I'm ancient af. But basically, for those who are unfamiliar: These were wild times. Everyone wanted to look like Amy Lee, everyone had angsty Linkin Park lyrics as AIM away messages, and everyone wanted to fuck Itachi. And through some divine means, everyone ended up on the hellsite that was Quizilla.
hiii I jst wanted to say that I'm actually new to the hxh community and after I finished watching hxh, I rly liked pariston and his trashiness (lol). I tried to find on ao3 and so many other websites of pariston but all I found was pariston and ging (idk the dynamic is abit weird - I read the manga too) - I'm so glad that I found you and your writings! your writings rly saved my lifeâ€ïžâ€ïž. also have you heard that togashi is restarting the manga run for hxh? I'm so excited :))
I'm glad you like Pariston because he is everything a trash lover like myself could ever want, and I hope that by spreading Pariston awareness, I can get people to produce more content for him because that man is criminally overlooked.
Also yes! I am excited for Togashi to be back. I am sitting here begging the cosmos for a crumb of Pariston content in the next update, but honestly I just want Togashi to take it easy and do whatever his health allows. Honestly at this point he could just type up a plot summary and give us some stick figures and I'd be happy.
Chrollo (a/n HANDS OFF HE'S MINE *holds up spork*) was eating some soup. It was very spicy, too spicy for him.
"WOW" he said. "This soup is making me hot." So he took off his clothes. (a/n *nosebleed* lulz) Then he was naked. He has nice abs, kinda like that guy from that one band. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door! "Who could it be?" Thought Chrollo as he answered the door.
"Hey" said Chrollo's gf, Rayvyn Luna Selene, who has black hair with red streaks and is wearing a Tripp corset.
"Hey," said Chrollo, who was still naked btw. "Do you want some soup?"
"Yah but I want something else too" I (OOPS I MEANT RAYVYN TEEH3E) said.
