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theostrophywife · 1 year

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az x short reader??

shortcake.

a/n: listen it's 100% confirmed that azriel has a size kink i know because his shadows told me.

azriel is ridiculously tall. he's used to towering over everyone everywhere he goes, but for some reason, it's different with you. the shadowsinger thinks it's cute that you barely come up to his shoulders and that you have to practically crane your neck just to look up at him. he absolutely loves the height difference.

when you're out, he's constantly tucking you to his side, his arm around your waist while his wing brushes against your shoulder. he especially loves cocooning you from the world within the safety of his wings, knowing that you're his and his alone.

azriel uses any excuse to pull you behind him. whether it's to protect you from actual danger like when you visit the court of nightmares and someone speaks to you in a threatening manner or even when you're out with the inner circle at rita's and some random male tries to hit on you, the shadowsinger won't hesitate going full alphahole and securing you behind him while his shadows wreathe you in darkness.

you'd pretend to be annoyed, craning over his shoulder and reprimanding him for being so overprotective, but you'd secretly love it.

when you first move into the house of wind, azriel purposely moves all of your favorite coffee mugs on the top shelf so that you'd have to ask him for help. he'd watch you open the cupboards, that confused little frown on your face melting his heart, before you sheepishly turn around and ask him to grab a mug for you in your shy, sweet voice. he'd happily oblige and when you stand on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek in thanks, azriel knows he's absolutely fucking done for.

he'd tease the absolute hell out of you, calling you little one, munchkin, and his personal favorite, shortcake. you'd huff and puff, crossing your arms and trying to look as intimidating as possible which just makes you look even cuter to the point where he's actually chuckling at the sight.

once he gets comfortable around you, he'd flirt endlessly. casually moving you aside, lifting you up, giving you piggyback rides. you'd catch on easily and use that age old trick of comparing hands. azriel would be self conscious about it at first. you noticed that he always liked to hide his hands behind him and one day while you're playing cards and drinking wine, you surprise him by grabbing his hands.

azriel half-expected you to pull away from his touch, but you only lay your palm against his, grinning as his large hand swallows up your much smaller one. he'd watch silently as you trace every swirl of scarred skin, every bump and ridge a reminder of his traumatic experience, every crack and crevice filled with blood and brutality, but you'd intertwine your fingers in his, never hesitating never faltering.

"it's like ripples of water. strong and swift and solid like the sidra. your hands are beautiful, az. just like every inch of you."

and gods, that exact moment is when his harmless little crush on you evolved into something bigger than he could've ever imagined. azriel knew then that he was falling in love with you.

the shadowsinger would surprise not only himself, but the rest of his friends—his family. for five centuries, they have always known him to be reserved and sensitive to touch, but now he couldn't even help himself. he'd seek you out in every room, constantly pulling you closer, wrapping his arm around the back of whatever chair you were sitting on, his wing curved protectively around you and his shadows swirling through your hair and wrists and ankles.

azriel is also a big fan of giving you hugs. he knows it makes you flustered when he picks you up and squeezes you into a bear hug, twirling you in the air while you kick your feet up. you’d feign embarrassment, demanding for azriel to put you down right this instant even though you can’t get enough of his addictive embraces and that night chilled mist and cedar scent that was so distinctly him that you can’t help but wrap your arms around his neck and squeeze back despite your initial protests.

don't even get me started on the cuddling. azriel loves when you curl up against him, head tucked into his chest, arms and legs twisted together while he wraps you in his strong arms. you're so small compared to him especially when his wings cocoon you in completely and he'll hold you so gently, whispering sweet nothings into your ear while he strokes your hair. it's warm and toasty and you're falling fast asleep in seconds murmuring dreamily.

sometimes you'll have nightmares and azriel would wake up in the middle of the night, reaching out for you and cradling you in his arms while reminding you that there's nothing to be afraid of because he's right beside you.

azriel would whisper in the darkness, "it's alright, my love. you're here. you're safe. i won't let anything bad happen to you. i've got you, sweet girl."

you believed every word. you knew this beautiful male meant it with every fiber of his being. "i feel so safe when i'm with you, az. like nothing bad could ever happen when you hold me."

his heart would soar. all his life, he'd been known as the feared spymaster. the ruthless illyrian warrior. the dark shadowsinger, but to you, he was azriel. the male that you fully trusted to protect you and keep you safe.

and gods, he'd be so careful with you. so gentle and restrained to keep from hurting you, but fuck one day you'd decide enough was enough.

things would get heated in the bedroom and you'd be in the middle of a particularly steamy makeout, lips and tongues and teeth clashing as you kiss and kiss like you're trying to crawl into each other's skin. you'd be straddling him in nothing but your bra and panties, the shadowsinger shirtless and panting as you finally bite down on his bottom lip and declare, "stop holding back, az. i want you. all of you."

this results in azriel absolutely losing his shit and manhanding you, flipping positions so that you're pinned down and helpless below him. he'd chuckle darkly, palming your breasts in his large hands, squeezing your thighs and hips and ass, reveling in the way his body covers yours while he hikes your legs over his shoulders.

the shadowsinger would watch your petite form writhing underneath him, delicate hands gripping his cock while you pump him eagerly. then you're guiding him between your legs and he nearly passes out from how fucking tight you are, how snug you feel around his cock as you take him in inch by inch. he'd press down on the bulge in your lower belly, swallowing your moans as his proud length stretches your walls. then he's moving and you're wrapping your delicate legs around his waist, trying to get more, more, more.

and when you guide his large hand over your throat, his fingers splayed out across your soft skin like a perfectly crafted necklace, azriel finds himself unable to hold back. he gives you everything he’s got, rough and hard, soft and sweet, caring and intimate.

from that day on, azriel would take you against the wall, outside the alley at rita’s, on a balcony in the house of wind and even in a coat closet at the river house. it’s so easy to pull you into a room and have his way with you. he absolutely loves getting you all flustered and he thinks it’s cute when you’re an absolute mess for him.

“what’s the matter, little one? did i make you all hot and bothered?”

as much as he loved to tease you, az would also treat you like a princess. aftercare with him is heaven. he’d run you both a bath, letting you sit in his lap while he scrubs your exhausted body, his hands gently shampooing your scalp and massaging all the tension out of your taut muscles. after you’re done he’d wrap you up in a soft, fluffy robe and set you on the counter, kissing your forehead while he gets you ready for bed.

azriel would help you into one of his shirts, smirking at how the fabric swallows your petite frame. there’s something so satisfying about seeing you wearing his clothes. he’s so possessive of you and he loves knowing that it’s his scent covering you while you sleep cuddled up beside him.

he’d chuckle as you greedily snuggle against him, burying your face in his neck and peppering him with kisses as you claim your place in his arms. azriel would kiss the top of your head, stroking your back.

“goodnight, az.”

“goodnight, shortcake.”

#PAIN ALL I KNOW IS PAIN #azriel #azriel fluff #azriel smut #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel/reader

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rustedhearts · 1 year

Text

Severed Lamb Part I: Blessed Be (Pastor!Steve x Fem!reader)

summary: your visit home for the summer comes with a handsome new preacher, who takes a special liking to you.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♰ the steve collection ♰

♰ part ii: poor thing ♰

warnings: religious imagery/trauma, manipulation, abuse of power, age-gap (reader is 19, steve is 35), allusions to child abuse (you gotta squint, but the mom does some icky shit), mention of death/parent loss.

author's note: some dark stuff happening in this series, y'all, so read the warnings and take them seriously! i’m not responsible for your internet-intake. for the sake of this fic, i’ve given you (the reader) the name delilah (because 'y/n' just looks ugly and ruins my vibe). also delilah is a ballerina.

♰ Wyndgate, Georgia June 1981 ♰

The Georgian heat was insufferable.

A stiff, sticky heat that swells in your hair and bloats your cheeks. It made wading through the overgrown field of your childhood backyard a miserable task. But your mother requested fresh cherries from the tree, and you weren't one to deny your mother of her needs. You carried the old porcelain bowl, hand-painted with delicate lilacs, toward the tree in the distance, smacking off mosquitos and shooing away flies as you went.

When you reached the tree, you set the bowl on the ground and began to climb. The bark of the trunk felt just as it did when you were a child: solid, rough, mossy sandpaper against your palms. You wiped off the bark fragments on your denim shorts and began to pluck. Years of picking cherries gave you a keen eye for the ripest selections: plump, gleaming swells of red. You shoved a few into your cheeks before sliding down to fill the bowl.

The bowl was half-full and your stomach was full of cherry stem knots by the time you headed back toward the house. Birds chirped their evening goodbyes in the trees chasing the horizon line. Cicadas shook their wings and crickets rubbed their legs to make a chittering symphony. Just beyond the looming oak trees, the sun began to fade into a blur of gold and pink. The clouds looked like they were delicately etched by hand.

"Those for anybody?"

You jumped, hands slipping around the porcelain bowl clutched against your stomach at the sound of a deep voice before you. You steadied, tightened your grip, and settled your gaze upon the figure standing in front of you—a man. A handsome man. A crop of fluffy chestnut hair, a set of round copper eyes, a perfectly-sloped, straight nose, and a set of properly pink lips. Around his neck, he wore an intricate silver chain. Within the unbuttoned collar of his shirt, you spotted the glint of a small cross.

The man raised his brows, and you licked over your cherry-stained lips.

"N-No, sir, these are...these are for my mother. I got them from our tree, just there," you explained, turning to point toward your tree a few feet back.

The man followed your direction, hands tucked into the pockets of his brown slacks. Your throat bobbed with a swallow when his eyes roamed back toward you—your cheeks burned at the way they rolled over your skim-clothed body.

You weren't expecting company today, and usually the field behind your house was empty, seeing as it was private property. Nobody ventured into each other's properties...except him. Your denim shorts and thin-strapped camisole gave way to the shapes and curves of your body not suited for a man's eye. But what really caught this man's eye was not the way your breasts spilled from your top, or the way your thighs strained against the denim squeezed around them—but the cross resting below the dip in your collarbone. Gold, elegant, clearly hand-crafted for you.

A child of God. A beautiful lamb.

"Surely you can spare one for a lonesome stranger? I've traveled a long way," he cooed.

His voice was smooth and sweet. He had a way of talking and tipping his head all at once that made you feel like he was telling you a bedtime story. You found your fingers dipping into the bowl and plucking two cherries before your mind could catch up. Your hand brushed his as he collected them in his palm, and you followed his fingers as they approached his mouth.

"Mmm," he hummed around the sweet juices in his mouth. He ran his tongue over the front of his teeth and the inside of his cheek. "Sweet."

But his eyes were on you. They twinkled against the low-setting sun, golden light washing over him. You weren't entirely sure he was real, in that moment.

"I'll see you around." He passed by, curling two fingers gently around your elbow before he walked off toward the property next door.

♰ ♰

But that Sunday, you knew for a fact he was real.

The man from the field, the man that left you two cherries short and the recipient of a scolding from your mother, was standing just below the podium at the old evangelical church on Mulberry. Clasping the hands of bright-eyed women bearing crosses, bending into a gentle, respectful bow. Firmly returning the shake of balding men that were already sweating through their nicest shirts, still greased from a day's work at the auto shop. Crouching to cast a straight-toothed, dazzling smile at children not yet tall enough to reach the pews without climbing.

All the air in your lungs seemed to get caught in your throat as you approached him, arm looped through your mother's. Your Mary Janes clunked against the floor of the aisle, and your eyes sought something, anything, other than his handsome face waiting for you ahead.

"Ah, you must be Loraine."

His voice. It sounded just as it did that day in the field—sweet, smooth, like honey from the comb.

"Well now, how did you know that?" your mother giggled, reaching up to fluff her hair beneath her elaborately atrocious hat.

You curled your fingers into a fist behind your back, blunt nails digging into your palm. Your dress, pale yellow and dappled with embroidered daisies, suddenly felt too tight around your waist. Your mother tied it herself in the mirror this morning, pulling until it cinched so tightly that you could practically see the waistband of your underwear. There, now you look like a young lady.

"I've heard such wonderful things about your fashionable hats." He didn't have an accent. At least, not like the Georgians did.

He sounded more like they did in Pennsylvania, where you went to school. They had a certain way about over-pronouncing their vowels that made it clear they were Yankees—

"And this must be your daughter."

His eyes set upon you, and a full-bodied shiver ran down your spine. Your stomach clenched, and your mother squeezed her arm around yours a little tighter until you turned to meet his eye. She grinned toothily beside you, leaning to press your heads together. Her soft, fluffy hair tickled your cheek. You could smell the cigarettes still on her teeth from the car ride over. The man was looking at you with a half-mouthed smile that made you swallow.

He was so handsome. Too handsome for a preacher. Too handsome for Wyndgate.

"This is my baby girl, Delilah. Ain't she pretty?" Your mother reached behind your neck to tuck your hair behind your ear. Her pink nails scraped against the nape of your neck like a chalkboard.

"She's a ballerina, up in Pennsylvania. Came back to visit her Mama for the summer. Ain't that right, Lilah?"

You let your eyes touch the man's chin. The faintest collection of stubble gathered around his jaw. A mocha-colored mole kissed his neck. He watched you intently, hands suddenly returning to his black slacks like they did that day in the field. He donned all black today, and it made his eyes look golden. Under the fluorescents of the church, he glowed like something divine. He looked so young.

"Yes," you whispered.

His hand slipped from his pocket, a gentle whooshing sound. First, he clasped your mother's hand, giving it a delicate bob—and then he reached for yours. You didn't wait for your mother to nudge you, reaching out and slipping your fingers along his palm. His thumb brushed along your knuckles and your spine straightened. A terrible ache gathered between your thighs. You hadn't felt an ache like that since prom night, when Tommy Baker kissed you against his truck in the gymnasium parking lot.

"It's lovely to meet the both of you. Everyone's been so lovely to me, welcoming me into your congregation."

He spread his arms, palms upended, and motioned toward the church. Everyone was getting seated, shuffling about in the rickety old pews, murmuring amongst themselves about the handsome new preacher and his funny voice. In your periphery, you could see the young girls fanning themselves with pamphlets frantically. Mid-morning light blared through the stained glass and cast a violet rainbow over his cheek.

A kiss from God. Wyndgate talked for weeks about how God delivered His handsomest angel to them by hand.

You slipped away from the preacher and wandered toward your designated pew, sliding in beside your mother, tucked against the end. You carefully placed your bible on your knees and adjusted your dress, just as the podium creaked against the man's weight. He spread his arms again, like he was waiting to ascend and welcome in Heaven.

"Welcome, all, I'm Pastor Steve. What a beautiful day to celebrate our Lord, isn't it, church?"

And as the pews murmured their joyous agreement, Pastor Steve's eyes cut over to you. He grinned a half-cocked grin. You didn't know, if standing there behind the podium, was a gift sent from God, or a trick from the devil.

♰ ♰

Before he died, your Daddy converted the old hay barn in the backyard into a dance studio. Floor length mirrors covered nearly every inch of the wooden walls, hand-sawed lengths of log through their middle for balance bars. He hand-crafted all of it for you as a birthday gift just before you went to high school.

When he died, it became your only solace. A place of solitude, of lulling quiet—it was the only place you could think. Twirling on the top of your pointe shoe, watching the room spin and blur while you snatched armfuls of air, fingers delicately tapped together—it was your form of relaxation.

You left the barn door open today, letting the sticky heat billow in. It breezed over your bare arms and legs like a gentle whisper as you rotated and pranced around the room. Your elegant gold cross, a permanent token fixed around your neck, swinging in the air with every turnout.

"You always dance like this?"

A shriek left your mouth like a siren. You shot your foot out to put you at a hard stop, heaving for air and staring Pastor Steve straight in the face. He was leaning on the barn door, arms crossed, the toe of his leather loafer pressed to the shiny wooden floor. His church clothes abandoned, he donned a pair of brown slacks and a blue button down—crisp, pleated, rolled at the elbows. His silver chain glimmered in the soft glow of the evening light behind him.

"You alright?" he asked.

You blinked, hands finding your hips, cheeks burning. You swallowed, bobbing your head. Wisps of hair flounced against your forehead. From across the barn, Steve's eyes licked over your pale pink attire, your sweat-slick limbs, naked and bared for him. He found the cross resting above your breast and tipped his head to admire it.

“Y-yeah, m’ alright. Can I…what are you doin’ here?”

Steve took his lip between his teeth. His chin tipped down, eyes blaring through thick lashes to watch you reach for a water bottle on the floor. Your gold cross caught the sun like a beacon. He couldn’t look away from it. It glowed around your neck. You were divine beauty, a perfect little lamb. He knew it the moment he saw you scaling that cherry tree the other day. He knew it the moment he saw you floating down the church aisle like a bride. He couldn’t stop thinking about you.

God sent him to Georgia for you.

“Your mother,” Steve said, straightening up. He’d been staring too long. “I heard she’s the only woman in town that knows how to fix my robe the right way.”

You nodded along in agreement. Your mother was a talented seamstress—she could fix even the worst tear and make it look brand new. But you didn’t see a robe with him, and as your eyes flickered around to find it, Pastor Steve cracked a smile.

“It’s in my car,” he said.

You flashed a small, tight-lipped smile. Your cheeks swelled with more heat. His voice was so smooth and soft. It tickled your ears like a melody.

“Oh,” you murmured meekly.

Silence filled the barn. In the yard, birds twittered, and the chickens in your neighbor’s pen a few yards down clucked nosily. Steve continued to tip his head and inspect you. You swallowed again, bringing your hands to clasp together behind your back, and tapped your ratty pointe shoes together on the floor. Your good shoes were back at school, on rental for the semester. You scrubbed floors and cleaned the mirrors every night after class just to afford to keep them. Without the scholarship you earned, you wouldn’t be able to afford to dance at all.

“Um, I should probably head inside,” you piped up, rising to the tops of your toes only to press back down again.

Steve watched you closely for another moment. Everything about the way you moved made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It was thrilling, the way you spun and twirled, the way you walked like you were airless. You were graceful, just like a swan.

You clutched your water to your chest and shuffled toward the corner where your sneakers waited. You opted to hook your fingers in their soles instead of changing—something about the way Pastor Steve followed your every move made you tremble and squirm, and you were desperate to get into the cool confines of your room and avoid his pretty stare.

You lifted your head and cast another small smile that had him clenching.

“Have a nice day, Pastor.”

Oh and your voice. Hushed, delicate, meek. You always sounded like you were delivering a line written by Shakespeare himself. It sent shivers down Steve’s spine, that voice.

You brushed past him in a breeze—a whiff of sweet sweat and rose soap—and Steve broke out of his daydream to catch a glimpse of the nape of your neck. With your hair pulled away from it, your neck looked enticing—a patch of clammy skin, braced with the fragile, glimmering golden rope of your necklace.

“Mhm,” Steve hurriedly hummed, lifting off the door of the barn as you sweepingly turned the corner toward the house. “See you inside.”

And as hard as you tried to avoid it, you did see him inside.

You hurriedly showered and scurried into your room as your mother extended her southern hospitality—soon, the lace dining cloth was covered in glasses of freshly-brewed sweet tea and bowls of cherries.

You sat down at the cushioned stool of your vanity and smoothed cream over your damp face, listening carefully to the murmur of your mother and Pastor Steve’s voices on the other side of the wall. Her laugh was over-joyous and sickeningly sweet, and you heard your name mentioned far too frequently for your liking.

Dressed in a breezy sundress, you settled down on your bed beside the open window, letting in a warm wind that fluttered your drapes, and cracked open an old favorite from your tiny shelf—Anne of Green Gables. You turned to the bookmarked page, letting the breeze from the window and the wind from the ceiling fan cool down your skin, still buzzing with thrumming warmth from your spinning in the barn and Pastor Steve’s heavy gaze.

But every turn of the page came with a glimpse of his eyes in your mind. A hazel color, big and round and penetrative. They followed you like they were pinned to the back of your head. You felt the weight of that gaze all through Sunday’s sermon, and again while you fidgeted in the barn. He was always watching. And something about the way he looked at you made you feel…special. Special in a way you didn’t feel back at school, or anywhere previously in Wyndgate where all the girls who got attention were slender and blonde and giggly.

But to Pastor Steve, you were something worth looking at. And a man of God’s approval, his praise, mattered most of all.

“Lilah! Lilah, come set Pastor Steve a place for dinner!”

Your mother’s voice washed over you like a cold drip, and your book fell from your hands to your floral quilt. Your cheeks bloomed with heat again, cursing under your breath as you shuffled toward the edge of the mattress. Bare legs dangling over, your hand flew to your chest to rub the cross between your knuckles in search of comfort. In the living room, the deep rumble of Pastor Steve’s voice made your stomach squirm.

“Oh, Lord,” you whispered pleadingly, eyes turning toward the portrait of Jesus in a frame above your bed. “Don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to me.”

Don’t make me go out there. He’s so handsome.

“Lilah Anne! I’m not callin’ you again,” your mother’s voice was just on the other side of the door, and a harsh knock followed after.

The door flew open, and you bounced off the bed. Flustered, you watched your mother sigh and ease the door into a crack behind her. She tiptoed toward you, checking over your appearance as she went.

“Lilah, he’s a very important man. I want you to use our nice plates. The ones with the bluebells, alright?”

You bobbed your head furiously. The back of your dress started to cling to your spine. You reached behind to pluck it away, give your skin some air to breathe, and your mother grabbed your arm. She leaned in close, and you knew by the purse of her lips what was coming next:

“Make yourself real pretty, alright? Pastor Steve is such a nice man,” she gushed.

She pinched your cheek and patted the skin, and your chest tightened as the back of her head disappeared through the door. When it closed, you spun around and walked toward the mirror, standing tall in the corner of your room. There you stood, pulling at your pale blue dress, frowning at your bare arms and legs. But Mama would want them like that, on display for Pastor Steve to see. Just like all those times when her friends came over. She’d bring them home from the bar and introduce you in the living room, and you always sat in a chair in the corner, pretending not to understand what it meant when they kept calling you “a sure thing.”

But Pastor Steve was different. Pastor Steve was a man of God. He’d never stray from God’s guidance.

So, you neatly plaited your hair and swept it over your shoulder. You rubbed strawberry chapstick over your lips and nose, and delicately placed your unfinished book on the nightstand for later. The ceiling fan hummed absently over your empty bed.

You gathered the plates—the gleaming porcelain with the hand-painted bluebells—from the china cabinet, and cleared the clutter from the table to fix it for dinner. All the while, as you bent to place silverware beside each place, you gazed beneath your arm over toward the living room. Pastor Steve stood, arms out, in the center of the wood-paneled room. Your mother knelt before him, working her needle through the hole in his deep, swampy green robe. The crosses embroidered on the fabric were golden and shiny.

His head turned, a strand of hair catching over his eye, and you ducked away toward the fridge. Yanking it open, you relished in the cool air blowing from the vent in the buzzing white light of its confinement.

"...should be all ready to—Lilah Anne, what on earth are you doin' in there?"

You hurriedly slammed the fridge closed, rattling the bread box on top and the glass condiments on the inside shelf—and standing on the other side of the table, was a furrow-browed mother and a perfectly well-stitched Pastor Steve. The latter flashed you a boyish grin, and your cheek burned as you looped your fingers together behind your back.

"I set the table like you said, Mama," you murmured softly, tipping your head toward the wooden table, adorned with its white lace cloth and bluebell plates.

Steve followed your gaze, admiring your organized layout. Your mother merely glanced, otherwise focused on the neatness of your braid. She swept the end of it over your shoulder to drape down your arm as she passed by, heading toward the fridge to grab yesterday’s chicken.

"I was just gonna heat up some of this chicken, is that alright, Pastor?"

You turned to the man anxiously, teeth pulling at the loose skin of your bottom lip. His loafers clunked against the tiled floor sharply, and you followed them all the way to the chair at the head of the table, a place set just for him. He placed his hand on the back of the chair—your Daddy's old chair—and set his eyes on you: neck bent, arms tucked behind your back, a picture of obedience and grace.

"That sounds wonderful, Loraine."

The chicken plate clattered on the counter. The tinfoil rustled and crinkled. The stovetop clicked, the pan sizzled. The kitchen became stiff with hot air, and the window squealed when your mother pushed it open. Outside, the cicadas were still chittering furiously. And you stood, exactly where you were, staring at the tops of your bare toes against the linoleum tile.

"Delilah, come sit with me."

Your head snapped up. Pastor Steve stood from the table and stepped to the left, pulling the chair from the table. He motioned toward it with a sweeping hand, and with a glance over your shoulder toward your nodding mother, you took small, timid steps over. You sank down, breath hitching when Pastor Steve came behind you to push the chair back in. His stomach firm against the back of your head, his hands big and warm on either side of your shoulders. They grazed your shoulder blades before he sat back down, and your body tingled with shivers.

A mere foot away from you, Pastor Steve was the closest he'd ever been. He placed his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. The round face of his watch glinted in the low-setting sun, a warm yellow light. The band of it was brown leather, like his shoes, and fit him well. His robe was gone now, folded neatly and placed on the stool beside the door where you sat to take your shoes off. But he didn't seem concerned about it—his eyes were set on you.

"Your mother tells me your father passed a few years ago."

Your heart squeezed. You paused, eyes turning toward your mother's figure at the stove. She didn't like to talk about your Daddy very much. When she did, her words were usually biting and cruel. To her, he was a "lazy, no-good son-of-a-bitch." But to you, your Daddy was the sun and moon.

You nodded slowly. "Yes, sir. When I was fifteen."

Pastor Steve hummed.

"That musta been hard, especially at that age. I lost my father, too."

Your head tipped up. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of your eyes, peeking through your lashes, blinking up at him. Your cheeks were the loveliest shade of pink.

"Really?"

He nodded. "Mhm. I was twelve."

Your lips instinctually pulled into a frown. Before you could reply, your mother squawked from the stove:

"Oh, Pastor, I'm so sorry for your loss," she drawled.

But Pastor Steve's eyes never left yours. In fact, they were glued to you. And his hand, cupped around his jaw, fell to the table with a quiet thump. Your eyes flittered toward it, watching it slither across white lace. It came to a stop beside your plate, flipping to place his knuckles against the table, palm upended.

"I understand your pain, Delilah," he murmured.

Taking a deep breath in, you slipped your fingers into his waiting hand. It closed around your knuckles, holding your fingers to his palm in a soothing embrace. You met his gaze cautiously, heart thumping in your throat. Pastor Steve's eyes were soft and round like a puppy-dog's, brows furrowed in shared sympathy.

"God understands your pain. And though loss may lead us astray, we must stay strong, and put our trust in the Lord," he preached, voice smooth like whiskey. When a small smile touched your face, Pastor Steve mirrored it. "He'll take us exactly where we need to be."

The last sentiment was whispered, a shared secret between the two of you. His smile slipped sideways, another boyish image of the man before you, and a burst of endearment flooded your chest at the sight of him in your father's chair. You found yourself clinging to his words, replaying them in your head, etching them into your memory to grasp onto forever. And while you pondered, wading in the charming ease of his demeanor, Steve brought his hand under the table, and ran the length of his knuckles across your knee.

During dinner, he conversed with your mother about the historical society, the women's church group, the annual fundraiser at the end of the summer. Every few moments, his hand would brush your knee beneath the table. Each time your head turned to question it, he passed you a lopsided smile. It was comforting, that handsome smile. God will take you exactly where you need to be, Delilah.

Your mother packed him a Tupperware container of cherry pie to take home, and he gathered it atop his sewn robe as he headed toward the door.

"Thank you again," he cooed to your mother, whose smile was blinding.

"Oh, don't mention it, Pastor, we're lucky to have you. Lilah, why don't you walk Pastor Steve out, it gets real dark out back this time a' night."

Your mother pinched the back of your arm when you turned to protest, and you hurriedly stepped toward the door to obey. Pastor Steve flashed a tight-lipped smile at your mother, and swung the door open. The screen door groaned on its rusty hinges when he pushed it, and the sticky heat instantly sought home in the kitchen. You floated through the open doorway past his waiting figure, hands clasped behind your back once more, bare feet scuffing over the chipped paint of the porch.

You walked languidly, but with a refinement to your posture and an upturn of your nose that Steve adored. He watched you as you trailed along beside him, rustling through the grass like rabbit, quiet and small. His car was waiting in the drive around the barn. The license plate was from Indiana.

"Why'd you move away from Indiana?"

You don't know why you asked. The words came tumbling from your mouth like they were exorcised, wretched from somewhere deep inside. It must’ve been the Southern meddler swarming inside you. But Pastor Steve just smiled that boyish, sideways smile, and shrugged.

"I wanted a change of scenery."

You nodded approvingly, coming to a stop at the hood of the car. Pastor Steve scuffled to a halt right after, turning to gaze down at you, still clasping his chicken and green robe. You swallowed, and he watched your face twist with worry. He frowned, brows furrowing.

"What's wrong, Delilah?"

You chewed on the inside of your lip, gazing down at the tops of his shoes.

"Mama...did she say anything cruel about my daddy? They...didn't always get along."

Steve inhaled deeply. Your father. That was your soft spot. Like every fruit, you had a bruise—a soft spot, where he knew, if he pushed with just the right amount of pressure, you would burst.

Pastor Steve took a step closer.

"Don't worry, Delilah, I don't believe a word. I can see how much you loved him."

You nodded, tipping your head back to find his gaze again. His lips were plump and red from the pie.

"You know," he said, cocking his head again. "If you ever need to talk or just get out of the house, you can always come visit me at the church. I'm a great listener."

You grinned shyly. "Thank you, Pastor. I...haven't been to confession in...too long," you admitted lightly.

Steve shrugged airily.

"Oh, that's alright. God leads us exactly where we need to be, remember?"

You nodded quickly. "Right."

The sky had darkened to an inky indigo. In this great big clearing, flanked with bushels of dense oak trees, the stars were on full display. Steve could take count of every single one if he wanted to. But all he could do, in this great Southern expanse, was look at you.

His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, and your eyes followed.

"You're a beautiful dancer," he mused.

You flushed, ducking bashfully. In the back of your head, your mother's voice rang: men like weak and fragile. Men like women that bend to their will. Maybe if you bent, if you weakened, Pastor Steve would see how good you are, and in the eyes of the Lord, that was all that mattered.

All that mattered was that you were good, and kind, and lovable. That's all you wanted.

"Thank you, Pastor."

Pastor Steve's watch caught the moonlight as he brought his hand to your forehead. There, he swiped a stray wisp of hair from your lashes, shaken loose from your braid. He guided it behind your ear, where his hand slipped to fondle your delicate braid. The length of it glided through his palm like a snake. He watched it fall through his grasp while your breath became shallow.

"God's finest work."

Your heart pounded wildly in your ears. You beamed at the praise, glowing beneath his approving gaze. Steve, noticing the way you perked at his gentle, murmured tone, how you leaned into his coaxing validations, gave it a little push. His hand came to your chin, which he cupped in a gentle hold to pull you up. You allowed him to guide you, bringing your forehead to his mouth. There, he placed a gentle kiss.

When you settled back down on your heels, you gazed up at him dazedly.

"You are blessed, Delilah. God has a very special place for you in his heart."

Your throat bobbed with another swallow. His thumb pressed into your chin. His eyes roamed your parted lips.

"And I think," Steve whispered, chest heaving, "he sent me here to make sure of it."

♰ ♰

#rolly!#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x female reader smut #steve stranger things #steve the hair harrington #priest!steve harrington #pastor!steve harrington #joe keery #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #dark steve harrington #dark!steve x you #dark!steve harrington

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lemon-butters · 5 months

Text

A/N: What's supposed to be simple 500 short escaped me, all this stemmed from Malcc art. (I have more in the works)

Glynda lies nestled on a plush sofa, the contours of her form relaxed into the soft cushions. Her swollen belly asserts itself, an audacious curve interrupting the line of her body; it rises like a gentle hillock from the valley of her reclining figure. Atop this mound rests a tome, its pages splayed wide open, though the words seem to blur and dance under Glynda's half-focused gaze.

"Settle down, little one," she murmurs with a fond chuckle as if addressing a mischievous student rather than the life stirring within her. The baby responds not in obedience but with a series of gentle flutters against the inner wall of her womb, like the delicate wings of a butterfly trapped in cupped hands.

"Always so active when I try to read," she whispers, her voice tinged with both exasperation and wonder. She imagines she can almost discern patterns in the movement. A secret language of nudges and bumps that only she is privy to decipher.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" Glynda's bright green eyes squint as she ponders the sensation, her thin ovular glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose. With a sigh, she adjusts them back into place, yet her focus isn't on the lines of text. It's inward, attuned to the tiny dancer.

A powerful kick interrupts her reverie, drawing a gasp from her lips.

"Oh!" The fluttering evolved into more assertive taps now, commanding her full attention. Glynda places her hand gently on the epicenter of the activity,

"Easy now," Glynda murmurs.

Her tranquility fractures when she attempts to rise from the sofa, an action once simple now a feat of sheer willpower. Glynda exhales sharply, bracing herself against the cushions' soft resistance. Her muscles contract, protesting against the shift in gravity as she leans forward, seeking leverage. A pang of discomfort arcs across her lower back, drawing a tight line between her shoulder blades.

With an effort that leaves her breathless, she plants her feet firmly on the floor and pushes upward. The book that had been her companion slides off her belly and thumps onto the cushion beside her, its pages fluttering like captive birds eager for release.

Finally upright, Glynda allows herself a small smile of triumph. Her hand, still resting on her abdomen, feels the echo of the earlier kick.

Glynda's ascent begins each stair, a gentle peak to summit. She places her foot on the first step, weight shifting forward as she pulls herself up with a measured grace that belies the strain it imposes on her body. Her breath is steady, a cadence marking her progress, and her green eyes focus on the landing above.

The nursery door stands ajar, a sliver of light promising a haven. As Glynda nears the top, her gaze lifts to find James, his back to her, standing on a step ladder. Immersed in his task, the careful strokes of the brush against the ceiling painting clouds of a gentle storm grey.

Glynda's breath hitches as she crosses the threshold, her gaze sweeping over the nursery. The room is a midnight canvas, the dark walls serving as the night sky for an array of bright constellations that twinkle with vivid hues of sapphire and emerald. Each star seems to pulse with life, a cosmic dance frozen in time beneath the gentle glow of a crescent moon decal. On the lower half, a lush valley stretches across the walls, painted in verdant greens and earthen tones, a tranquil landscape under the watchful eyes of the heavens.

"James," she whispers, the words barely escaping her lips, caught between admiration and awe.

James perches precariously atop the step ladder, paintbrush in hand, as he etches the final touches on a particularly ornate cloud. The bristles dance delicately across the matte expanse, each stroke adding to the tranquil ambiance of the nursery. He steps back, his eyes scrutinizing the ceiling with an artist's critical gaze, ensuring every detail contributes to the serene tableau he envisions for their child.

"Is it too much?" he mutters.

"James, it's breathtaking," she whispers, the words barely escaping her lips, caught between admiration and awe.

A sharp jolt seizes her attention, a sudden kick from within that draws a low groan from her throat. Glynda's hand flies to her lower abdomen, pressing gently against the fabric of her blouse. The baby asserts its presence with another robust movement, shifting restlessly inside her.

"Let's sit you down," James suggests, guiding her gently toward the rocking chair nestled in the corner of the room. The celestial tapestry they've created surrounds them, stars and comets bearing witness to the quiet strength of their bond.

She breathes out, sinking into the chair with a relieved sigh. "I just need a moment."

"Stubborn, just like their father," Glynda remarks a wry smile, the tension easing from her features. Her humor, a balm to his concern, prompts a chuckle from him.

"Or their mother," he counters playfully, the warmth in his voice wrapping around her like a comforting blanket. The baby chooses that moment to kick again, a firm nudge against James' hand. His eyes widen.

Glynda leans back in the chair, her breath quickening as James' hand settles protectively on her belly. She closes her eyes and tries to focus on the feeling of his touch, the familiar warmth of his skin against hers, but it's difficult with the baby kicking so insistently. The little one seems to know exactly what it's doing; every nudge and wiggle sends a wave of joy through her body. It's like a dance between them—the baby leads, and they follow, their hearts syncing in rhythm. The rocking chair creaks softly under their weight, providing a gentle sway that matches the movements within her womb.

The celestial tapestry hangs above them, its colors shimmering in the soft light from the nearby lamp. A shooting star flashes across the fabric, leaving behind a trail of silver dust before fading away into nothingness.

---

The first light of dawn barely creeps through the curtains when Glynda shifts restlessly, her body heavy and cumbersome. The bed creaks softly as she turns, a deft hand nudging James. He stirs from his slumber with a groggy grunt, his eyes struggling against sleep's sticky tendrils.

"James," she whispers, urgency etched into her voice, a thin thread of panic weaving through it.

He blinks at her, his brain foggy, not yet catching the gravity of the moment. But then he sees it—the dampness spreading across the sheets like a silent alarm—and he's instantly awake. His heart hammers in his chest, a mix of fear and awe seizing him.

"Your water…" James murmurs, the words trailing off, his voice thick with emotion. He sits up, suddenly wide-eyed, every cell in his body on high alert.

"James," Glynda says again, this time a clear command. She swings her legs over the side of the bed, each movement deliberate, fought for against the weight of her belly. Small beads of sweat glisten on her skin, a testament to the effort and the pain that is just beginning to announce itself.

"Okay, okay," James replies, scrambling to his feet. He rushes to her side, his hands hovering over her as if he’s afraid to touch her, afraid to somehow make things worse. His mind races—hospital bag, car keys, call the doctor—but he forces himself to focus on Glynda.

"Are you alright? Can you stand?" His voice is steady now, the military man within finding his footing even amidst the chaos of impending fatherhood.

Glynda nods, grimacing slightly as she places a hand on her swollen stomach, feeling the stirrings of life within battling to greet the world. "I can stand," she asserts, though her voice betrays the rising tide of discomfort.

"Good, good." James is all efficiency now, his training kicking in, guiding him through the protocol of emergencies, even one as personal as this. He tries to steady his breathing, to match the calm he knows Glynda needs from him.

James springs into action, his military training kicking in as he retrieves clean clothes from the dresser. His hands are steady, belying the tempest of emotions inside him. Glynda, with the grace of a dancer even in her ungainly state, attempts to stand. He's at her side in an instant, guiding her gently to her feet.

"Deep breaths, love," he murmurs, slipping a soft maternity dress over her head. The fabric cascades down her body, a gentle wave of comfort. Her hands clutch at his forearms, her grip ironclad.

A contraction grips her then, fierce and unyielding. Glynda folds inward, a sharp inhalation marking the pain that etches across her features. "James…" she gasps out, and he feels the tremor in her voice.

"Right here, Glynda. I've got you." His words are a lifeline as he steadies her, his own heart pounding a relentless rhythm against his ribs. She leans into him, her body racked with the effort of birthing new life.

The world contracts to this single moment.

They reach the hospital, the early morning calm shattered by the urgency of their arrival. James' arm is firm around her waist, her fingers digging into the muscle of his back. Each step is measured, a testament to their shared determination.

"Almost there," he assures her, though it's more for his sake than hers. The pain is a live thing between them, a third presence that demands attention.

"I know," Glynda breathes out through clenched teeth, her nails leaving crescent moons imprinted on his skin. The sensation is grounding, a reminder of the here and now - of the life they're about to welcome.

The hospital room hums with the quietude of exhaustion and elation. Glynda, now a depository of tranquility, cradles the monumental bundle that is their daughter. Her eyes, twin emeralds softened by tears and fatigue, never leave the infant's face — a visage so new yet already etched into her heart.

"James," she whispers, "come meet your girl."

"Hey there, little one…" James begins, his voice a cocktail of awe and fear. He reaches out with his left hand, flesh and blood, trembling as it hovers above the child.

"James?" Glynda prompts, her brow arching in concern.

"Your hand won't hurt her," Glynda assures him, her tone gentle, yet edged with the steel that defines her. "She needs her father."

Taking a deep breath, James extends his flesh hand once more; his movements are deliberate, mindful of the precious cargo he's about to receive. The metal hand remains aloof, tucked against his side, a silent sentinel.

"Okay, okay." James’s internal mantra pulses with each heartbeat. "You can do this."

Glynda lifts the girl, guiding her towards James with practiced ease. Gossamer strands of black hair crown the baby's head, and her tiny nose, unmistakably his, scrunches in slumber. When the weight of his daughter settles into his arms, a rush of warmth floods through him, drowning all fears.

"Hi there, sweetheart," he murmurs, drinking in every detail. His thumb, cautiously, tenderly, strokes her cheek. She stirs, a small sigh escaping her lips, and James feels the seismic shift within him. This fragile being, part him, part Glynda, is theirs. Completely theirs.

"Look at you," James breathes, his throat tight, "you're perfect."

"Hello, my brave little girl," he says, vision blurring as he leans down, pressing a kiss so full of promise to her forehead. "Daddy's here."

#james ironwood #glynda goodwitch #rwby glynda #rwby #ironwitch #oneshot #Pro James ironwood

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sapphicbutters · 2 months

Text

Temptations

During a restless night on his own, Freddy is approached by a demon who helps him rest a little better...

Succubus!Ven x Glamrock Freddy 【18+ fic】

DNI minors

Words: 4,013

Archive Your Own

Freddy had been restless for most of the night, his battery occasionally reminding him of its low charge. He was trying to enter rest mode for a while, unable to due to his systems weary with tomorrow's responsibilities. Tossing and turning on the not very comfortable couch, feeling how his metal surface made everything beneath squinched awkwardly in the quiet room he was in.

For a while, he believed he was the only one awake and present at the moment, time read a quarter until three. However, he detected a presence, the stillness of his room disturbed by what seemed like a potential intruder. Although that sensor alerted it didn't work properly, a heartbeat detected yet no figure to capture it to.

A scent reached his synthetic olfactory gland, fresh as if someone just doused the space with soft vanilla, causing Freddy to sit up fully, befuddled. Someone like Monty must be playing a trick. Or perhaps his systems were truly shot and made him malfunction due to his lack of rest.

His dim room became browner as his lights gave out, leaving only the LED lamps of his display decor. Something freaky was definitely happening now, his sensors were picking up strange signals.

Freddy had heard anecdotes of occurrences of paranormal activity, mostly from guests who believe in the occult. He had never experienced such things, or bear witness to one, and it appears tonight was going to be a first.

After a minute passed, the room settled. The vanilla lingered, which made him wonder if this was part of the experience. Now signals pinged his attention to a figure, who stood in the middle of the room, short and feminine in appearance. His eyes adjusted, only for a vein of magenta to split open the space of the room, and an indescribable noise startled the bear half to death.

Within a blink, the short figure had materialized, fluttering down to the ground and taking in the surroundings.

This being was humanoid, yet had a spade tail that had a life of its own, and sported short pointy horns on top of their lavender hair. Freddy felt offended to see this attire being worn, a tight one piece that exposed most of their skin, filling the curves of their behind rather nicely. Their wings were crude, almost like a bat, but somehow managed to hold them when they leveled to the ground.

This demon of sorts was faced away, only for them to turn around to Freddy, almost unsurprised to meet him.

“Hm, what an interesting assignment.” The imp muttered to themselves. Freddy got a full look of their body as they stepped a bit towards him, the front more skimpy. Their bosom was small, yet the suit did enough to show that they were breasts nonetheless. Freddy locked onto their eyes, at first wanting to scold this intruder for dressing so provocatively in a place like this, but now choked on his voice box as he stared.

“I usually get humans, but an animatronic is the first…” The demon partially scoffs, an airy pitch coating their words.

“Who are you?” Freddy wanted to ask more, but that's all he could muster up in that second.

The imp drew closer, a sultry gaze burning Freddy's form as they ate him with their eyes.

“I prefer the name Ven,” They said simply, “I think it suits me.”

“...Ven.” Freddy echoed, stiff with mild discomfort from this situation. What on earth was happening right now?

“I-I am sorry, I do not know exactly what you are, but you shouldn't be here.”

Ven lets out a fake pout, “Aw, but, how else am I going to do my job?”

“What job?”

Ven paused before him, right at eye level, as they continued to ogle him.

“I thought it was obvious?” They gesture to their form. Freddy squints, still unsure what they really were…

“Are you what some call a person of the night?” It made him curious how they snuck in if that were the case. A nice chortle left Ven, it was genuine and warm.

“That's cute, that's really cute,” Ven settles, “but no. I'm a demon here to get rid of those little urges of yours.”

Urges?

Freddy, taken aback, shook his head in bemusement, now wondering if this “demon” was missing a screw.

“I do not have… urges.”

“Well, why was I summoned then?”

“Perhaps it was a mistake– or you are messing with me.”

Pacing towards his arcade machine, Ven poked and prodded at his stuff, finding his response funny.

“Not a mistake, or a prank. It's the real deal.” They traced around his room. At first, his brows furrowed, agitated by this imp's implications. When his gaze fell on their backside, a low heat ignited his systems…

Ven peers, a dim smile rising as if they sensed his dismay. “Everyone has desires, and if those get left unfulfilled, then someone might find themselves restless or lost if they don't get a handle on it. Even a robot like yourself has some unresolved tension. I mean, from what I've collected… you have the assets.”

They gestured to his figure, specifically to the outline of his pelvic hatch that he kept hidden during the day with his outfits.

Freddy shook his head more, “I am not someone who indulges in that type of thing, it's… far from appropriate.”

Ven's eyes now widened, for once a bit surprised by his admission, “Not even a little?”

“No.”

“That sucks, you must be really wound up tight then.”

Ven admired the decor of his greenroom, getting a sense of his character from this interaction and details his room offered. A pile of plushies and toys had them playfully lift one, squeezing the miniature bear's cheeks.

“You're better than most clients… usually they're sex pests that want to fuck anything that moves. Or something like this.” They held the plushie with a bleak look.

“Goodness, language.”

“I was complimenting you.”

“I do not need to hear that…”

Silence hung over the two, Ven tossing the toy aside as they tried to read him more. They had dealt with pretty intense cases of insatiable clients, some worse than others, but Freddy piqued their interest; an animatronic performer who's sexually repressed?

They felt that this was going to be a fun night.

Freddy broke the silence, “I do not think such beings like yourself existed.”

“The occult isn't something that those like me make known, we simply coexist alongside humans to fit in.”

“Are some of you malevolent?”

“... It depends.” Ven jutted their eyes at him, taking some offense of this, “Do I look malicious to you?”

Despite their presence, Freddy recognized how small they were when they fit in the identity of a demon. Their human appearance, excluding the horns and tail, made them passable– almost akin to those cosplayers Freddy would come across most days. Something about their appearance set his wires off, that heat really ticking at him the longer he stared.

After a moment, he strained, “No… not even a little.”

Again, Ven didn't know if they should be offended. However, they took his comment with stride, smiling.

“I'm not a threat at all, besides, I'm meant to help people… beings like you release some tension.”

Freddy didn't exactly see why they were adamant about his “urges” needing to be released. He was capable of stuffing down those feelings, hating that they existed in the first place. Too many times he found himself staring at a well-dressed father of three made him want to deactivate on the spot. What made it worse were how his older fans acted towards him. He could tell which ones were attracted to him, and the ones that really wanted him. And yet, after a long day of physical connections, Freddy kept his hands to himself.

Freddy found himself asking, “How exactly do you… help?”

Ven gawks at him, “Was I not being obvious enough?”

“I-I meant, how would you help me with my tension. Do you just… know?”

“I let the client figure it out themselves, they usually succumb to their desires once they do. And I go with the flow.”

“And what exactly happens after that?” .

This made Ven lift in response, noticing his slight budge, “Well, you'll feel… better. Maybe a bit clear-headed. Not so horned up.”

They didn't exactly know how to explain it, and it was obvious as their tail swayed in thought.

“It's not a cure, but it helps.” Ven lowers themselves on the edge of the coffee table. Freddy kept his eyes off and to the side, not wanting to be tempted…

Their aura radiated off and seeped under the crevices of his exoskeleton. The vanilla he got a whiff of earlier was originating from them, who was gazing expectantly at the mascot with their amber eyes.

This was interesting, but in the worst way for Freddy. What exactly did he want? Had he ever fully pictured what he wanted?

Other than ogling middle-aged parents and a blonde baker, he didn't know what to do with it other than let it fester. The very thought of imagining such scandalous ideas had his systems stuttering.

When he traced Ven briefly, that similar feeling took over except, it rattled him to his core. Their small body rammed beneath his mechanical form, digging his nubbed claws into their flesh, had Freddy in a mild panic. And he couldn't stop the heated tightening of his stored limb from igniting.

Ven tilted their head, now coy, as they noticed Freddy's stunned glare.

“Did you figure out something?” Ven almost teased with how they slid out their question, now inclining forward.

The rumbling of his voice box scared him, it wasn't a sound he recognized. He had lost sense of his hands when they gripped the faux leather of the sofa, and his jaw loosened– struggling out:

“...Did y-you… do this to me?”

A sweet smile coursed their face, “No, that's all you, sweetheart. You figured out what you wanted, that's just your body reacting to it.”

The strangled noise shook out of his maw, trying to tear his eyes away from this demon. He was sure it was them that was tempting him. They had something to do with it.

The thought of it made him frustrated, the accumulated heat somehow rising to his faceplate and steam leaked out. Ven examined his transformation, excited to see a breakthrough, especially on a specimen that was very bound to his ways.

They had met priests with less restraint, it surprised them how much Freddy resisted temptation.

He was planted in the sofa, not wanting to give in, it almost looked painful from how he gritted and snarled.

“You're overheating.” Freddy knew this, his wires about ready to pop out of their circuits from the extreme heat. Ven hadn't even touched him yet, and he was losing his mind. He hated the way they dressed, how much their eyes had drawn him in, and their scent…

A fresh pastry waiting to be filled, frosted, or both.

Without forethought, Freddy lurched to snatch the imp onto his lap, their knees broadening and pressing over his concealed sex. Ven expected his hands to be cold and rigid to the touch, instead they had a warmth, the padding of his hands meshing into their hips.

An irritated huff simmered from the bear as he had a closer view of their body, the low lighting of his room made their brown skin tasteful. He didn't know why he found himself drawing his maw against their chest, but it became difficult to contain his desires.

A hand guided him along their frame, although his were rather bulky to fully grasp their small breast properly.

Ven's mind fell to the wonder of how this was going to play out, having never been with an inorganic being. Brimming with questions of how much he could feel them and if his assets came with the full package.

Their mouths press in each other's briefly, Ven never having pressed their lips against metal beforehand. Freddy is too sheepish and awkward to make the kiss impactful, which Ven pulls back with an unimpressed glint.

“...Is that it?” Their voice brisk.

“I-I… did I do something wrong?”

They settled their mild annoyance, taking into account the bear was new to this.

“You need to really feel this.” Ven brought their hands to his shoulders, trusting that his hands were autonomous enough to continue. A twinge of electricity had Freddy hitch when they brushed against his neck, their heated gaze causing more dormant feelings to stir.

The brought back kiss was more intentional and slower, Freddy trailing over the small of their back, the fabric running against his digits. With a tilt of his head, Freddy deepened it further, now experiencing a rush he hadn't ever felt. Ven's soft whirsrs only made him stiffen, dragging them closer to his steaming body.

He was enveloped by their arms, and the passion worsened when Ven stifled a grunt when Freddy dug his nails into their back. His tongue invaded, making the imp drone with surprise– almost wanting to pull away– only to be drawn by how good it felt going in.

They've handled large monsters a dozen times and an animatronic was no exception, but they couldn't help stop their arousal from audibly leaving their gasping mouth. Between gaps of breath, Freddy rumbled in frustration,

“...You're d-doing something to me.”

They brushed their lips along his muzzle, smirking, “Am I now?”

“You have… tempted me.”

“Need I remind you, you're the one in control here. I'm just the catalyst.” Ven chortles when he digs his muzzle along their neck and tracing the collarbone.

Nibbling absently on their thin flesh, Freddy felt his hips shift, and the warmth of the demon's front on his. How badly he wished to aid his want, the touch of them driving him over the edge. Ven pet him, humming through his repentant bites…

Murmuring some gentle encouragement, Ven felt their way to his groin, knowing the treasure lies beneath his metal britches. The lining of his klep was hot to the touch, a low vibration sending chills up their spine. Freddy watched aimless as Ven fished to unleash him, and when they did, a hushed groan left as his member was freed.

“You had this hidden from me?” Ven perks up at the sight, “You're really doing yourself a disservice, hiding this away.”

Upon their hand feeling his turgid tip, Freddy hissed from the sensitivity. He hadn't ever touched it himself in… however long that was. Maybe the night when he was first given the new attachment, but not since then. Ven's palm circled and stroked, feeling the dampness of his precum coating their fingers. They seemed to squirm, resting their sex on his thigh now as they leaned against his chest to play with him. Freddy could feel their arousal through their touch, and the way their tail stiffly swayed.

Staggered pants seeped out, his mouth agape as Ven rubbed his twitching cock gingerly. How swollen he had gotten from just this alone made Ven want to forget foreplay and jump right in, but refrained…

Instead, Ven grinded along his thigh, the way it fit perfectly between their legs and hit the spot. They inclined to kiss his exposed neck, the metal hot on their lips now. Agitated by the multiple sensations, Freddy grumbled more and more, not even sure what to do with his hands. One hand felt along Ven's ass as they writhed, the other gripping and marking the sofa. Steam let off his form, and now slick noises of his member filled the space, he was a mess drizzling his fluids on their fingers.

His cock hardened more when Ven stifled a purr, feeling how wet they had become the longer this played out.

Not much warning came when Freddy popped, his thick release spewing out like a fountain and coating Ven's hand. His face was hot, haggard pants leaving him as he couldn't formulate words from the aftermath.

“Mm, you didn't last long,” Ven commented, “but that's okay, it happens.”

Sliding off, Ven admires the mess on his lap, lying comfortably on his thigh. Freddy blinks in and out, his systems trying to recalibrate from the climax, only to find them easing towards his leaking shaft. He sputters breathlessly from their advances, a mechanical whir spilling from his throat as their tongue coursed over his flesh.

The taste of him made Ven feral, expecting the synthetic seed to be less than pleasant, but thoroughly surprised by its subtle sweetness. They engulfed his length soon after, droning with content. His hand twitched, slipping up their back and running over their soft skin. He was folding under their swirling tongue and eager mouth, falling for their lustrous face. Despite how weary his structure felt from the climax, the surge of pleasure returned full throttle with how they bobbed on his member.

Knowing how late into the night it was, Freddy had to contain his moans, not wanting to disturb his bandmates or a patrolling guard; he didn't want to explain the mysterious demon pleasuring him.

At the cusp of another orgasm, Freddy slid his palm to gather Ven's bob into a fist, finding his hips jutting against their movement. A mix of a groan and giggle left them when his feverish thrusts led to their throat being fucked. While he whined, Freddy placed his hand over his mouth to conceal it, helpless against how his body reacted to the way he fucked their mouth.

Another spurt leaped out of him, this time coating Ven's throat. The imp was unfazed and happily consumed his release, savoring every drop.

In the heat of passion, Freddy dragged Ven into a hungry kiss, plunging his tongue in an act of pure ecstasy. Their need for him grew alongside his. The bear's mind was set now and there was no going back, he had his releases, but he needed more.

And he knew this imp was happy to oblige.

Slamming them onto the sweltering leather cushions, the tantalizing sight of saliva stringing from their diverging mouths had Freddy chuckle. Ven didn't put up much of a struggle, recognizing the underlying strength he had, which to them made them dizzy with arousal. He groped and tugged at their one piece, peeling off the fabric, only to find it soaked. His lids lowered, admiring the state of them. Eager to fulfill his needs.

Comparing his size to theirs, Freddy resigns for a moment, concerned about potential injury.

“What are you waiting for?” Ven murmured, practically giving themselves to him.

“Are you able to take… this?”

His cock was twitching at the sight of their cunt, but his mind briefly returned to sobriety as he questioned.

Ven stared with subtle awe, Freddy would have believed that no one's asked this of them. Of course, they nibbled their lip with a snicker coated in confidence.

“Don't you worry about me, I can take it.”

Gliding his length against their patch, the texture made him stutter a grunt, never having felt so good. No stage performance could properly replicate how it made his body shiver with excitement, the lining of his shaft slicked up by Ven's want. His hand felt their exposed happy trail, before he leaned in to bury his maw into their shoulder. He didn't guide himself, just simply let his other head take the lead and pressed into their drooling pussy.

The two were grueling, making ghastly sounds as Freddy thrusts slowly. Ven wasn't that much of a bluff when they said they could take it, knowing their history with previous clients. His swelled girth brushing their cervix had them squeal, a noise they didn't expect to make…

Embarrassed, Ven grasped onto his arms, tossing their face aside to avoid his eyes.

“Is this t-too much?” Freddy managed a shaky coo, catching their slip up.

His thrusts were now smoother, pacing himself but consistent, his metal pressing audible on their damp thighs. Ven shut their eyes, gritting as they took him, “Not… in the slightest.” A wispy moan shuddered out right after.

For once, Freddy smiled, half lidded as his brows softened. They were oddly adorable to him now. His hips sloshed faster, the leather sofa now grumbling alongside them.

He focused on their face, watching how flushed they become as he presses deeper and harder. Ven faintly whines, peering between his gaze and his cock.

Now getting comfortable, Freddy quickened, watching a fine bump rise and fall on their tummy, a moan falling on his ears. Grasping Ven's thigh gave Freddy a growing sense of power, being reminded that he was in control.

“Ghhn, y-you feel so… good,” Freddy stifled a growl.

Halting, Freddy single-handedly flipped them over, now pressing onto their back, just to rub his growing ego. Ven couldn't stop his heavy body from nearly squishing them, not that they wanted him to; it activated their need more. Having this chance to fuck someone gave Freddy the drive to keep going, now leveraging their hips for easy access.

He attempted to move their tail, before earnestly stuffing himself back into their aching cunt. It swallowed his length without resistance, a guttural groan leaving him dazed.

“F-Fuck–” Ven yelped, gripping the leather. Freddy pressed against their ear, growling restlessly as he fucked them.

“...Watch your language.”

The couch made occasional croaks of distress from how hard Freddy rammed into them, having to place his foot down to keep his balance. His nails dragged and marked Ven's backside, soft streaks of red on their brown flesh. Ven was loving each instance of roughness, begging for their pussy to be ravished the longer this went on. The two were noticeably loud, but it didn't stop Freddy from going harder.

Ven came abruptly, their juices spilling onto both of their thighs. Freddy kisses their shoulder mid-stroke, nipping their skin in the process.

His metal frame was drenched in fluids, his own and theirs, steam filtered from the creases following his systems heating up. Just continuously slamming into them without any other thought, listening to the imp's measly sounds of contentment.

Within seconds, Ven was dragged into a new position, a hand around their waist and resting on his member. Adjusting his lower half, Freddy shot his hips up into them once more, a cry leaving them.

Much more of their moans filled the room, both of their minds foamed up with ecstasy and lust. His seed leaked out mid-thrust, hips stuttering as he unexpectedly came inside them, Ven buckled down and kept jostling their hips.

“I want every drop…” Ven grins impishly, “don't hold back on me…”

A rinse of exhaustion ran over Freddy, wanting to continue in spite of his low battery power, draining exponentially faster. The incessant releases had the bear drooling, every bit of him pumped into the demon.

And at a certain point, Freddy found everything flickering to an uncomfortable silence.

The next morning, Freddy booted up, eyes fluttered with ease. Recently he found it hard to open them through the lack of battery, but today it didn't require any thought. Sitting up, he felt lighter, buzzing of the morning workers were outside his room, setting up before the mall opened. Freddy felt inspired to join them and his bandmates.

He glanced over himself, his temperature at a moderate level, body cleaned, and he wasn't overwhelmed with heated wiring. When he looked at the couch, there were some odd markings that looked to be his nails. From the dream he had, it appeared to have affected his limbs…

As he got ready, a lingering scent of vanilla caught his olfactory sensors, ears perking instantly. Glancing over his shoulder, he found nothing occupying his room.

Nothing.

Even with a night's rest, maybe he was still off balance. The dream was rather… outlandish.

Shaking off the sensation, and swiping his nose, Freddy carries on with his morning, now with a clear head.

#fnaf smut #glamrock freddy nsft #spicy fic writing #oc x canon nsft #glamrock freddy x ven spicy #nsft ven

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hiscleric · 11 months

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WITH HONOR, WE HOUND: CHAPTER 2 SNIPPET—‘THE FEAST.’

hey y’all! i’ve been going back and forth on whether or not to rework my old byler fantasy au. so, i thought i could share with you a snippet from the unpublished/unfinished second chapter and get your opinions on it! i’d love to know if you think the premise is worth saving. feel free to leave me your thoughts!

enjoy reading! <3

“Sleep,” urged the Cursecaster suddenly, Thistle halting with a single tug. “You will need all of your energy once we arrive.”

Mike glanced toward the Cursecaster. With narrowed eyes, he tried to peer past the lenses covering the sorcerer's own; a futile attempt, as he could only make out the slight curve of his eyes. The knight nodded, the gentle command ringing in his ears before he slumped against Thistle’s warm neck and succumbed to sleep.

In the lands of his short slumber, Mike sat at a feast. He dreamt of roasted plums drenched in spiced wine and warm crusted rolls donned with sweet, hot butter, a speciality in the Dewmire kitchens since he was a boy; plate after plate of tender lamb loin coated in garlic and rosemary passed from hand to hand. Beside him, on his left, Dustin sipped at crisp apple ale and laughed between bites of stewed carrot and beetroot; on his right, Lucas picked at half a roasted pheasant, charred with sage-soaked butter, an occasional response passing through his wine stained lips.

Across from Mike sat the Commander, who held a gilded goblet against the seam of her mouth. She looked different in the light of the candles above; her flaming hair glowed in such a way that it was as if real fire sprouted from her head. In front of her sat a gold plate, piled high with shucks of aurochs shank drowned in steaming brown gravy–a serving of braised leeks covered in bubbling cheese paired with the course. The Commander sat with a fork to her side, yet her food remained untouched; instead, she seemed to feast on Mike’s pointed stare. Even in his dreams, he could not help but shrink under her one eye, piercing blue as if she knew each word before it passed his lips. Glancing toward the patch that covered the other provided no relief, either, for an eerily painted eye of its own laid in stark white against the leathers black; he could not escape her stare.

“Mike,” came her voice, hollow as the bones resting on Lucas’ plate, “time runs short. The days bleed. He is pleading with each breath; his moans haunt our very halls.” The Commander set down her goblet, and as Mike opened his lips to speak, she stabbed into the shanks with the tip of her knife. “You must make haste. Time runs short. The days bleed.” From the puncture left in the aurochs shank spewed thick, clotted blood, dribbling down the stack till it met the gilded plate in a crimson kiss; Mike’s stomach churned, seizing within till the little food he had allowed threatened to rise from his throat.

“What shall you have me do, Commander?” He pleaded, watching as the wine and ale drained from goblets and morphed into blood, filling Dustin’s glass till it spilled over upon Mike’s arm. The knight watched in horror as the stream of red trickled thick down his limb. “Tell me, please, I will do whatever–”

“Your answer lies with the stag. She shall lead you to the tide.” And her grimace turned to a knowing smile, her hand lifting her goblet back to her lips; she took three long swigs, her next words leaking through ruby red teeth, “You must trust him, Mike. Trust him.”

“Trust who?” He asked before he felt the rush up his throat, a loud cough splattering red across the feast in front of him; the blood dribbled in thick strands down his chin, flying off to stain the white of his tunic. His heart thudded loud in his ears, the traceable sounds of Dustin’s laugh and Lucas’ voice tinging each beat–the feast shifted in front of him, each lamb loin and aurochs shank changing into mangled corpses of winged reptiles with slit throats, their gurgled cries mingling with the metal stench of blood in the air. Flies danced atop the curves of their wings, buzzing by his ears and through his hair and past his eyes. “Trust who?” Mike asked again, speech warped by the hot blood pooling with the saliva in his mouth.

The Commander simply smiled, bringing a piece of meat to her bloodstained mouth.

#byler #will byers #byler fanfic #mike wheeler #byler fic #read on ao3 #ao3 #stranger things #hiscleric #fantasy au #ahhh idk just tell me what you think #if i rework it it will be shorter #IDKKKKK just tell me what u think pls thank you

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rainbows-fanfics · 4 months

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All'inzio (Chapter 29) EPILOGUE

Summary: A soldier-in-training, Valerie hopes to join the Valencian Army to avenge her father’s death under the wing of General Rooke. But when she happens to catch the attention of Commander Kane, her plans take a different turn.

Human AU of the Armada from Pirate101, where Kane meets his Queen.

Pairing: Kane/Queen

–

Note: The title translates to “at the beginning”.

–

A figure trailed down the dark corridors of King Casimir's castle. At this point in the night, the rooms were illuminated by candles and lanterns carried by the Valencian guards stationed on duty. The colors from the flames shone on the woman's silhouette as she passed by two men guarding the doors, who dipped their heads in her presence. The only sounds were the steps of her heels pressing against the gray marble flooring. Things were silent otherwise, as others were reasonably long into their slumber.

Queen had to slow down when she found herself exhausted. She held onto a nearby wall for support as her other hand came to her stomach. Her fingers lightly pressed against the area just above her belly button before slowly trailing down the small curvature that formed within these weeks. Beyond her palm was the source of fatigue, sickness, and worry she kept bottled up for two months. She managed to hide it through careful planning and sheer luck. But the inevitable time this secret would show in a physical form was one she hadn't exactly prepared for.

She continued on until she arrived at the last door of the long hallway. She practically collapsed on its surface and removed herself before any more noise could be made. She lingered a few seconds for any activity. Hearing silence, she knocked her knuckles a couple of times gently. A muffled voice replied from the other side:

"Enter."

Her small hand pushed the door open. While such a task would normally be done with ease, she was short of breath. She darted in the small space and stepped into the room. She was surrounded by stacks of paper and miscellaneous machinery sprawled out on the floor. Her brown eyes found a figure of a man hunched over his desk, his face obscured by a small prototype his gloved hands were currently tending to. Queen stepped forward and hesitated to speak. Rarely would she enter one of her husband’s work rooms and interrupt him for trivial matters.

Normally, she would be in their proper bedroom right now, waiting for Kane’s eventual return to the mansion. But he informed her he’d be working late tonight. And she so desperately wanted to spend time with him. He’d been so busy lately - cooped up in his work again, even though she scolded him countless times before for sacrificing his sleep….

She took a long breath, attempting to not sound as exhausted as she truly was. "Darling, I was wondering when you'd come to bed..? It's awfully late."

He acknowledged her with a wave of his hand. "-Shortly. I'm nearly finished with this for the night."

She bit her tongue. He had a habit of getting absorbed in things when the time became late. She grew lonely the longer he remained away. She was unusually restless tonight. It was becoming more difficult to hide her showing through her nightgowns - their transparent layers doing only so well at concealing her stomach. Even the one she wore now, a golden garment with white trim that loosely came to her ankles, effectively covered only half her abdomen. A long slit in the middle created an opening that would reveal the long curve of her tummy if one stared too long. She discreetly brought her arms down to cover the region as she approached his desk.

"Kane, it's getting colder the longer you're not beside me. You barely got any sleep the other night, amore mio. I think it's time for you to rest."

Kane paused in what he was doing and laid down a piece he planned to glue. He stood in his chair and her hands quickly came over her stomach again. She caught this habit and allowed her arm to rest while the other uncertainly found its way to the edge of his desk. He turned and fixated his eyes on hers. She was thankful his gaze did not wander any lower, and whimpered when his gloved finger found its way to her face. He used his thumb to stroke his wife's chin lightly.

"I apologize, cuore mio. I've spent too much of my time here again. I hope you'll forgive me for not remaining by your side when you most need me."

Her chest grew warm when his face came closer to hers. She could feel his mask press against her cheek while they kissed. She enjoyed every second until he pulled away. Her hands naturally reached for his own, but he passed by her to approach the door. She followed and found herself tired by the time they were in the doorway. Her legs grew weak as she rested a hand on his back. She looked at Kane with pleading eyes.

"Would you mind carrying me back to our room..? I'm tired staying awake for this long. It's so far way..."

He didn't pry, much to her relief. Without a word, he swept Queen off her feet and carried her bridal-style. Her hands came to the ends of her gown and layered them to hide the bump. Kane was too busy closing the door to notice. He started the trip back to their temporary bedroom. Queen closed her eyes and relished this moment where she didn't have to say anything. To enjoy his touch after all these hours of being alone...

She snapped back into reality when she was gently laid on the bed. Her eyes followed him as he changed out of his uniform. She chewed on her lip, thinking how she could uncover the news to her husband. She wondered if he would even be happy to learn they were…expecting. She imagined how the situation would transpire if the news wasn't taken so greatly. She reasoned with herself that he wouldn't get upset. She took a deep breath and prepared to tell him...

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

Kane had a lot on his mind tonight. He was so swept up in his work that he hadn't realized how much time passed. He was thankful Queen interrupted the process, otherwise he would've worked himself into the morning. He didn't fancy missing an entire night with her. How could he have been so neglectful? He grew disgusted with himself just thinking about it, and decided tonight that he would not spend another moment away. He realized how fatigued he was the longer he continued to sit still. It was for the best they'd sleep now, and another night he could make it up to her...

When he climbed into bed, he found a strange look on Queen's face. There was something on her mind. She edged closer as her hand fingered its way to his chest, where it remained as she pressed herself against his side. He usually grew touch-starved after not seeing her, but the reasonable part of him was somewhat wary at the coy gesture. He knew his wife well after being married to her for years, now.

"Before we sleep, I have something important to tell you. Some news I've keeping from you..."

"-From me?" He asked. It was unusual for her to keep any secrets. "What for?"

"I didn't exactly know how to tell you. I was a little afraid you wouldn't be too happy about it-"

She knew he wanted to question her on this, so her finger went to his lips to hush him down. He was about to ask what unfortunate news she was about to deliver. But seeing her insist on continuing kept him quiet. He allowed Queen to gather her thoughts. She was hesitant to relay whatever it was, confirming Kane's suspicions that this was serious. He attempted to think of anything unfavorable that happened between them lately.

"Honey, do you remember when we went to the King's masquerade party months ago?" He nodded. "And that night, when we...celebrated such a good time?"

The dots were beginning to connect, but to what, he didn't exactly know. He motioned for her to continue despite the long pause. She began to fidget, toying with the tassels on his clothes and looking away from him. He passed this moment by taking a proper look at her figure. She positioned herself differently than usual, and wore a gown that was loose on her. Before his eyes could wander any further, Queen decided to cut to the chase and inhaled sharply.

"Kane...I'm carrying your baby," Those words left her lips bluntly. "I have been, for a couple months now. At first I thought I was ill, but when it prolonged, I...I realized-"

He felt too astonished for words, but to his surprise, they slipped right off his tongue: "-You're... pregnant?"

She winced. "I am."

Now the dots were connected. He had an answer to the questionable habits of hers lately. They never went unnoticed with him, but he hadn't pried, as he trusted she would've let him know if something was wrong. All the times she politely declined alcohol, how long it took her to get dressed in the mornings, the extra trips she made to the restroom, and how easily she grew tired....they made sense.

He rested his hand on his chin as he absorbed this news, his eyes quickly darting over to her stomach. Queen realized what he was looking at and slowly moved her arms so he could see. That's when he found the small baby bump she'd been concealing this entire time.

"I thought," He began quietly. "I thought we were careful…"

"We drank a lot that night, remember? It was the only way we could cope with the night," She sighed. "We weren't really thinking…"

He continued to stare at her stomach with widened eyes, trying to imagine his child growing inside of her. It had been many years since he experienced the expectancy of fatherhood, but it was... different, now. This was his wife. Granted, he ceased taking certain precautions at times...But he never imagined receiving this news - not with her. And now that he was, he wasn't exactly sure how to respond...

He was taken aback when he found his hand being led to her stomach. He fought against her grip, but stopped after he saw the look on her face. He was mesmerized when his palm touched its surface. He was left to carefully trail his fingers over the small curve that existed on her abdomen. His baby was there beyond his touch - in the woman he loved dearly...

He felt an usual moisture in his eyes. He ignored it until it crawled down his cheek. He stopped to rub his eye and found a teardrop on his bare finger. He froze, attempting to comprehend the sight.

Queen gaped at him. "Kane...you're crying… "

"Ah," Was all he could manage. He clenched his jaw and attempted to control the sensation, but failed as another one fell. He rubbed it off with more insistence this time.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright..?"

"I'm fine," He insisted. He tried to understand why this was happening. He changed topics in the meantime. "Are you keeping it?"

"The baby?"

He nodded.

She looked down at her stomach and felt the small bump again. His words repeated thoughtfully in her head. This question hadn't been on her mind so much as it was just spilling this news to him. She was ashamed she hadn't put much thought into it prior to this moment. After a moment, she stopped moving her hand and smiled.

"I want to. Darling, I know you have your sons...and I love and appreciate them deeply. But I never experienced motherhood. I would like to, with your baby that I'll carry…"

She kept her stare on him to see his reaction. He was still tending to the moisture in his eyes. He stiffened at her words. A sound of relief left his lips. His posture loosened as he finally dried the tears.

"Valerie, I've never had a proper partner to share my children with, until now." He took her hands into his own and clutched them tightly. "Perhaps that's why I reacted like this...I feel quite happy."

"..You do?"

"Bearing a child with the woman I love...how could I not be?" His words made her smile. "Not to mention, they'll be as beautiful as you."

The tears began to leave her own eyes. She hastily wiped them away. "And I thought you wouldn't want this…Not another, I mean, with your family-"

"They're far into their adulthoods now. I didn't expect more, but if you want, I will father again." He tilted his head slightly. "It’s not just about that, anyway. It's about raising a child with you, my Queen...and I would be honored to do exactly that."

"Kane…"

She embraced him and began to weep, elated at this news. Seeing the family dynamic they all shared...she longed to have something like that of her own. She was well-accepted into their lives - treated like a mother to Bishop, Rooke, Deacon, even Phule....but she still couldn’t help thinking. The quiet curiosity she’s had, wondering what a child between her and Kane would look like...

"Do you know anything about it?" He asked. At her confused look, he elaborated. "Have you seen anyone at all to know how it's doing?"

"No…I was nervous telling you as it is. I needed to know what you thought before I did anything.”

"--Not entirely my decision.” He chided. “We'll see a doctor as soon as possible. To make sure it's healthy before making any haste decisions."

He pulled the blankets over their figures, allowing them to get comfortable. He was calm with this news, which relieved her. She was mindful of her stomach as she moved closer, resting her head on his chest. They were met with peaceful silence. She sighed as the tension left her body. She’d never tire sharing this closeness with him.

"I am curious about the gender…" She confessed. "I know you have the boys, but wouldn't it be nice to finally have a girl?"

His breath hitched in his throat. His eyes watered again. He tried not to make it obvious as he looked away, holding a hand over his mouth to keep his composure. It went unnoticed as Queen rambled on:

"I have plenty of names I can think of for a daughter. But a boy would be just as delightful..! We'd love it no matter what, right?"

He swallowed dryly. "Right."

“Not a chess piece’s name, dear." She teased as he moved to pull the lamp’s handle. “What do you think of Carina? Or Aurelia?”

The names struck something inside of him pleasantly. But he wouldn’t tell her that, for now. “We’ll decide when we know it’s healthy. Rest.”

He turned the light off and watched the room darken. He waited before laying back on the mattress, where she clung onto his side. Moonlight peeked from behind the curtain, lighting the lower half of the bed. He was thankful for this - otherwise, she would have noticed the tears drying on his face.

A daughter. A little girl as beautiful as Queen, and as smart as him…it was hard not to desire. He shouldn’t have hope - it wouldn't be right, if an expectation formed - but he couldn’t help it. If there was anything he learned from parenting his Elite - boys were rowdy, especially together. It was a nightmare, at times, but…he knew all the imperfections to fix. To do this right, for certain.

He placed his hand over hers. Fatigue hit him like a brick. He was out in only a few minutes. Queen smiled as her thumb trailed over his cheek, wiping the last of the moisture from his face.

#pirate101 #p101 #pirate101 kane #pirate101 queen #kane x queen #all'inzio #epilogue #fanfiction #fanfic

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books-of-the-great-leviathan · 2 years

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Chapter 17- Alois

***

Bellana save me, Alois thought, quivering like a child as he walked between the guards. I'm going to die.

They'd come for him while he was trying to sleep. The sound of the key in the lock had roused him, and he'd scrambled to his feet as the cell door swung open to a half-dozen royal Falcii. He'd gone with them. He'd been waiting. He was ready for this. He thought he'd been ready to die for a long time. Escorted out of the cell blocks, he'd expected to turn toward the Palace agora, for a gibbet and a noose and the beating Lapidaean sun, for blue flags snapping against a blue sky to be his last sight. Instead, they'd turned deeper into the Palace.

"Where are you taking me?" he'd asked as they led him upward, his voice a dry whisper. The walls here were high and lofty and made of stone pale as milk, conducting echoes through the maze of corridors and broad stairways. He glimpsed hidden courtyards tiled with scenes of pagan legend, glimpsed statues on balconies through elegant arched doorways, wings of stone hawks cut sharp against the sky.

It was like a street magician's globe filled with fireflies, light trapped within white walls. Alois itched for the close darkness of Pavaloir Tower, the shadows he could hide in when his father entered one of his rages. Too many times he'd heard the king's voice crack like a thunderbolt, echoing down from the throne room, with its blade of a throne and the stare of Bellana, always. There, he had at least an illusion of escape. Here he was exposed, vulnerable as a fledgling tipped from its nest.

The guards gave him no answer, not so much as a glance from under the lowered visors of their helmets. Alois settled his gaze on the blue and white marble of the floor, his mouth dry, his pulse distant, like it belonged to someone else.

"Here, Highness," one of the Falcii commanded him, Lapidaean accent heavy on the word. "Through the doors."

Alois was ushered through a pair of cedar doors and into the cool darkness of a room beyond. The drapes had been drawn. Dimmed sconces provided the only illumination. No white stone or sunlight here; this was a soldier's office, spare and restrained. Panels of ammonite stone made up the walls. A massive desk, each corner supported by a winged female figure, dominated the room. Swords gleamed from racks mounted on the walls. Alois recognized an antique Estaran saber, its curved blade enameled with entwined serpents, a collection of Buyani ritual knives in bronze and human bone, even a short dagger made from star iron, a rare and sacred metal that plummeted from the sky at the hearts of falling stars.

Each glinted with evident care, edges kept honed and deadly. None looked as sharp as the eyes of Isabella Valere as she sat behind the desk, watching Alois enter. Behind her stood Enzo Acier, captain of the royal Falcii, tall and silent, one hand on the back of Isabella's chair.

"Leave us," Isabella said, raising a finger from the desk's surface. At her fingertips lay a whaleglass knife. It looked ancient, silver tarnished, jet dulled by time, but the blade was unmarred, rippling with light and translucent as crystal.

The guards bowed, retreating. The doors settled shut, and silence rushed in, fraught and tense. Alois stood, spine rigid, hands clenched at his sides.

Isabella surveyed him. One blue nail tapped the hilt of the knife. Her eyes were steel-gray, unblinking. She wore shirtsleeves rolled to her elbows, exposing corded, scarred forearms. Her fitted waistcoat was the dark blue of a soldier's uniform, her shoulder-length hair shining like buffed gold. Alois was over-aware of his filthy clothes, the suppressed tremble in his legs.

He forced himself to stay upright despite the bitter taste in his mouth. The world pitched and tilted around him; he'd been so long in the cell, so long in the dark. He'd already begun to forget what freedom felt like. Maybe he was a fool to pretend he'd ever known.

"Sit down, Prince Alois," Isabella said at last.

Alois paused, then sat, slowly, in the chair opposite her desk. Pain flared in his aching muscles; he let his eyes drift shut for a moment, savoring the chair's padded leather, the cool breeze teasing aside the drapes. When he opened his eyes again, a servant was bringing him a cup, Buyani porcelain painted with a delicate design of leaping fish.

He could have wept at the sight of water, but paused before he drank. It wasn't water inside the cup, but dark liquid that smelled of unfamiliar herbs.

"What is it?" he rasped, glancing up at Isabella.

She arched an eyebrow. "Tea."

"What's in it?"

"Leaves," she said. "And a squeeze of lemon. Don't worry. We tend not to poison our prisoners here in Lapide."

At the mention of poison and prisoners, Alois's pulse jumped. "Where are my guards?"

"Alive."

Alois let out his breath, relief flooding through him. At least his guards hadn't had to pay with their lives for his father's ambition. "Are you going to execute me?"

"Do you want to be executed?"

Alois held her gaze, tried to stay aloof, but it was useless. Poisoned or not, he couldn't go a moment longer without a drink. He raised the tea to his lips and drained the cup in two long swallows. The tea was chilled, flavored with mint and rich spices, so good he thought about asking for more. He fought off the impulse and lowered the cup.

"I don't know," he said, after a moment. "Maybe I should be."

"Because of my sister?"

Ache twisted in Alois's chest. "I swear to you, I swear on Bellana's mercy I did not know what my father was planning. I want peace as much as I know you do. I want Lapide and Estara united. I didn't want...I never wanted..."

His traitor eyes blurred, and Isabella dissolved into smears of blue and gold. Alois lowered his gaze, unwashed curls falling over his eyes. He clenched the Buyani cup so hard his hands hurt, knuckles white through his skin.

"I am not going to execute you, Prince Alois," Isabella said. "Because I believe you."

Alois jerked his head up. "What?"

Isabella drew a long breath, then reached into the desk. She emerged with a small enameled box. A hand seemed to tighten around Alois's heart as Isabella opened the box and produced a tiny bottle of clear liquid from within.

"This was in your trunk," she said. She set the bottle onto the desk, next to the knife. It caught a glint of lamplight. "Hidden in a panel at the bottom."

"That's..." Alois started. His mouth was dry again, a high ringing in his ears. "You...you can't. Please-"

"It's medicine," Isabella said. "A tincture of moon tears and laylock. For the eyes, isn't it."

Alois couldn't lie to her. "Yes."

"You're going blind."

Her words were a strike to the face, his father's palm cracking against his cheek. They were shame, black and hot and unending, a howl inside him that threatened to consume him. The room seemed at once airless. Like she'd summoned them, gray spots swam in Alois's vision, a haze that grew larger each time he suffered them, eating up more and more of his sight.

"Yes," Alois said again.

"Estaran customs are strange and violent beasts, especially when concerning kings. No matter how suited you are to the position, Prince Alois, this-" She tapped the vial. "-qualifies you as unfit to rule. Am I wrong?"

"No."

"Your father has remarried, yes? Had another son? Another heir, more to his satisfaction than his first attempt?"

"Marin." Another fist around the heart, another pang of pain. Where was his little brother now? Safe, he hoped. Let him be safe, let him be well, let him be free of their father's plans. Frustration built like a scream. He felt so powerless.

"How tidy for him," Isabella said. She plucked up the whaleglass knife, turning it this way and that. "To hamstring Lapide and be rid of you in the same maneuver. Brilliant, I would even say, if it weren't so monstrous."

"He's right to want Marin on the throne," Alois said quickly. "I am unfit. This...affliction, this curse-"

"Curse. Like Cereza was cursed?" Her tone was sharp, knuckles white on the knife's hilt. Another wave of shame crashed across Alois. He wished he could curl in on himself, to cancel his own flesh and make himself nothing. "Don't mistake me, Alois. You are on enemy ground now."

Captain Acier shifted slightly, his signet ring chiming against the hilt of his sword. He had an quick laugh in the Palace gardens the evening of Alois' arrival, had kindly teased Cereza and Luca as much as they'd done so in return, had greeted Alois with an easy smile, no trace of mistrust. A careful show, maybe, but Alois had been relieved nonetheless. All of that was gone now. From the chill in his eyes Alois knew it was only his princess's command that kept him from drawing steel and running him through where he sat.

"I realize that," Alois said carefully. "And I am...grateful for your mercy. I only wish it weren't necessary."

"I know," Isabella said, and for the first time Alois heard a trace of softness in her voice. "That's why you're alive now, Highness, and not swinging from a sea gibbet for your countrymen to find."

Alois swallowed. The tea tasted bitter on the back of his tongue.

"I have no desire to see Lapide consumed in your father's fires," Isabella went on. "And I am not so naive that I don't see my mother's lapse into despair. I must rectify what has been done, as I cannot count on my queen to do so for me."

"There's no lifting the curse," Alois said.

Isabella's eyes narrowed. "I'm not speaking of the curse. Not entirely."

"Then what?"

"My brother," Isabella said, "has stolen Cereza, the shadow-thief assassin, and a treasure of the Valere house in a madcap mission to find the Great Leviathan."

Alois dropped the cup. The crack of breaking porcelain startled him from his chair. He stood as the servants swooped to clear away the shards. Isabella had not flinched. When the maids were finished, she dismissed them with a nod, and they retreated into a hidden door in the paneling of the walls.

"No," Alois said. His head swam, but he fought for clarity. 'That's...no, that's impossible..."

"My thoughts exactly."

It's gone, Alois. It's been gone long before anyone alive was born. If it is returning, it's not in these times. His mother's face, her amber eyes sorrowful, looking not at him but past him. He'd followed her gaze across the sea, to the point where sky and ocean met. The stars had been fires, then, a thousand thousand of them, so bright and heavy they might have fallen to the waves, sinking to the depths of the dark water.

These are no days for gods.

She might have dreamed of the Leviathan, she might have ached to see it, but now she never would. Maybe all the secrets she'd craved had been answered for her, when she met Bellana's light. Maybe the goddess whispered the truths in her ear. Alois didn't know. He didn't lately have much trust in gods.

"What's to be done?" Alois said.

"I cannot afford to send men after him. Lapide is full of rot. A crack in our country, made by war and widened by the events of the past weeks. I need my strength gathered here, in Lapide's heart. And if my mother will not stand strong, I must in her place."

"Unrest?" Somehow Alois didn't think she meant riots.

Isabella's face was a mask, but a flicker passed through her eyes. Fear, Alois thought. Somehow that was worse than the news of Prince Luca and his madness, Cereza's curse and their loosed monster.

Rot, Alois thought. Like dread marrowworms that ate a sea-ork beneath the skin, swimming in its brain until the beast was no more than a parasite's puppet. A whole and hale thing, turned black and crawling on the inside.

"What I say now remains here, in this room," Isabella said. She set the knife down. "Do you understand me?"

He was in no position to deny her. He was in no position to deny anyone anything. He was not prince anymore; he was nothing, a game piece that had expended its purpose. Had the Witchhunter known, too? Somehow, that was worse than the knowledge his father had betrayed him. Had Azare plotted this scheme with King Daval, heads bent together, constructing their new empire on foundations of his blood?

Of course he had, Alois told himself, bitter. He was the Witchhunter. His loyalties were to Estara, not to him, no matter how many times he'd shielded Alois from his father's wrath.

"Yes," Alois said. "I understand."

"There is a traitor in Lapide," Isabella said. "I don't know who. I don't know for what reward. But locks were left open, and correspondence given of the Palace's layout, that allowed the assassin access to Cereza. This has been planned for far longer, and with far greater reach, than I originally could have anticipated."

A muscle twitched in her jaw. "I had thought Lapide impermeable, its people united. I was wrong."

"Loyalty only goes so far."

"Perhaps you're right. Perhaps I was...naive. But no longer. I do not intend Lapide to float belly to the sun, helpless to hungry gulls. I do not spare mercy for traitors. When I find who allowed this, who conspired with Estara, who betrayed my country, I will burn them out."

"You sound like my father."

Isabella narrowed her eyes. "I don't want an empire. I only want my country united. I only want this war to end."

We all want what we think is best, Alois thought. And did he want the same? Or did it go deeper, further, a desire to be born again and live in a different skin, to stand without fear? Or to cut down his fears, to look into his father's eyes and hear him beg forgiveness, to look into his father's eyes and watch them dull as he slipped a knife into a king's heart?

Vengeance and violence, blood in the water. That was his father's way, and he was his father's son. Maybe it was his way, too.

"And what do you want with me?" Alois said.

"Your help," Isabella said. "And your support, when the day comes that Lapide and Estara are united again. Not under an empire, but as allies."

Allies. What a sea of jagged rocks lay between reality and her dream. But deep inside Alois, a spark guttered- not fear, not acceptance, but defiance. His father had thrown him to the sea-orks, and he had survived.

He rubbed his thumb over the scar on his palm, the one he'd inflicted himself, healed to a shadow by the power of the Belmont cup.

To heal, not to hurt.

I am your heir, Father. This is what you have made.

He would not be Daval's game piece. He'd see the world Isabella spoke of made real, the world his father would have broken. He would not simply see it. He would make it so.

Alois lowered his eyes, brow furrowed, then raised them and met Isabella's steel gaze once more. Not friends, but allies.

He nodded. "I can start with that."

#togl #tales of the great leviathan #fantasy fiction #original fiction #serial novel #chapter 17

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mgmoments · 3 years

Text

Growing Into Your Own

Diavolo | Obey Me!

Muscle growth, muscle worship, macro

Warning, NSFW

Your time spent with Diavolo was always some of your favorite. When you first arrived, little did you realize that the Lord of the Devildom would quickly become not only one of your closest friends, but even something a little more.

It wasn't uncommon for Diavolo to summon you to his opulent home for coffee, tea, or simply to spend the evening talking with you. Barbatos never seemed to mind the extra company, likely because it was good for the Master of the house to have someone else to talk to. That, and you were fairly good about cleaning up after yourself.

Today was no different. Diavolo had summoned you to his office to chat while he finished paperwork. Something seemed slightly off, however. You were never really one to notice the smaller details, but you couldn't help but take note at every time Diavolo tugged at his collar or attempted to pull his sleeves down.

"Dia, is something wrong? You've been tugging at your suit a ton since I got here," you asked, curious. He simply smiled.

"Ah, no no. Nothing's wrong. It's just...a touch tight. I suppose Barbatos must have shrunk it in the wash!"

"I assure you, I did not such thing Master Diavolo," Barbatos stated, entering the room to refill Diavolo's tea. "There is...another matter of concern. Perhaps our guest should depart so we might discuss this matter privately?"

Diavolo seemed ready to protest, but a sharp glance from Barbatos quieted him before he had the chance. He sighed. "I suppose it is getting late. I'll see you again tomorrow, yes? We can have one of those 'slumber parties' you said humans like to have!"

You laughed, but Diavolo simply beamed his bright smile. With no reason to protest, you gathered your things and headed back to the House of Lamentation. You couldn't help but wonder what exactly the two needed to discuss, however. Even more confusing is how it could possibly be related to Diavolo's clothing being tight.

"I'll be Barbatos just didn't wanna admit he messed up in front of ya," Mammon said at dinner that night. "Dude's obsessed with perfection, he just didn't want ya to think he was anythin' less than perfect."

Mammon squealed as Lucifer smacked him in the back of the head with a rolled up paper.

"There is a good enough reason why they needed to discuss matters without a human present, Mammon. It has little to do with perfection. It simply is not their business, or yours for that matter."

"Then you know what they're talking about?" You asked, knowing that Lucifer wouldn't tell you even if he did know. The frown that settled on his face was answer enough.

"Unfortunately," he replied, "Whatever this issue is it is one they've decided does not concern me. It is worth stating that Diavolo has been complaining about his clothing for some time now, at least a week. I'm surprised that it just now became an actual issue. Regardless, we all need to keep our noses out of royal Devildom business. Am I understood?"

You and all the brothers gave a quick nod. Lucifer smiled, and dinner continued. Despite everything, you couldn't shove the issue out of your head. In a way it was almost exciting to think about all the possibilities. Your mind raced with theories as you drifted off to sleep.

You returned to Diavolo's castle later the next day, only to be greeted by the towering demon dressed in a dragon onesie.

"What do you think?" he asked, turning around to show off the fine details, "I heard that humans dress in fun nightwear for events such as these, so I had Barbatos make this special. Is it nice?"

"I love it, Dia," you said with a smile, laughing at Diavolo's antics, "It suits you. Though, I see you more as a teddy bear than a dragon myself."

Diavolo smiled, and wrapped you in a massive hug.

Demons, on average, were already larger than humans. Even the relatively short Mammon and Asmodeus were still both slightly taller than you. Large demons like Beel and Diavolo, however, towered over you. You always considered yourself lucky that they were so kind, because you could only wonder how things would be if these two titans decided to use their size against you.

Diavolo's strong hand enveloped your own as he led you to his home theater like am excited child. He gleefully informed you of all the movies and snacks he had planned for the two of you as you both settled down into massive beanbags. Your seat didn't last long, however, as you were soon sitting comfortably in Diavolo's lap with his arms wrapped around you.

You both sat in quiet comfort watching some cheesy romcom when you felt something throb beneath you. You were taken aback- Diavolo wasn't the type to be...like that. Then you felt it again, realizing that Diavolo's legs appeared to be tensing up. Looking up to him, you noticed him wincing slightly. A small groan escaped his lips.

"Dia...? Everything ok?"

"Y-yeah. I...I think my legs are asleep is all. Let me just...urgh....stand up."

You rose from Diavolo's lap as he rose to unsteady legs. You couldn't help but feel like he looked slightly larger than before. It was subtle, but it was almost as if his onesie had begun to cling to him where it had once hung off of him.

Diavolo groaned again and nearly stumbled over as Barbatos entered the room with a new tray of food. Barbatos quickly placed the tray down and rushed to his master's side to hold him up.

"Is Dia ok, Barbatos? He seems out of it."

"The Master has simply been overworking himself recently, that's all. Exhaustion is beginning to get to him."

"No, Barbatos," Diavolo groaned, "It's finally coming, I just can't hold it back any longer. We need to be honest with them. They'll find out soon enough anyway."

"..Very well," Barbatos said, turning towards you. Diavolo sat back down as Barbatos began to speak.

"Lord Diavolo, as you are well aware, is lord of the Devildom. It is more than a title. You may consider it...something like a race. He is unlike the other demons you've met here. He is far more powerful, not simply because of his station but because he is naturally more inclined towards power. Part of his natural aging involves what you humans could almost consider a second puberty, a period of time when he finally fully matures and can be considered ready to take the crown of the Devildom for his own."

"What does...what does that actually involve?" you asked, watching Diavolo breathe heavily in his seat.

"You may have noticed the young Master tugging at his clothing recently. It's been a slow process thus far, but part of this evolution involves Lord Diavolo increasing drastically in physical size. This is no longer common knowledge, but Lord Diavolo's father was large enough to completely fill this room. Lord Diavolo will likely be that size when this process is completed, and based on what we are currently seeing, the process will be completed tonight."

"Wait, hold on! You're saying Dia is gonna completely fill this room tonight? Sure he's big, but he's nowhere close to being that big."

"It will cease being a slow process soon enough. Lord Diavolo is entering the final stage, and it will all happen relatively quickly. I recommend-"

Before Barbatos could finish, Diavolo let out a large groan. Both you and Barbatos' eyes snapped towards the demon prince as his entire body began to tremble and pulsate. The sound of tearing fabric began to fill the room as Diavolo's body began to push outwards in all directions. The onesie struggled to hold on as Diavolo's body began to tear through it, each muscle increasing in size and thickness. His feet were first to break free, tearing away Diavolo's slippers with his toes curling in seeming pain. His arms and legs followed, his swelling biceps and thighs tearing through the cloth like it was merely tissue paper. As each second passed, Diavolo's body grew larger and large with more and more muscle packing onto his steadily taller frame. His groans slowly became moans. The process was clearly no longer painful.

Sure enough, Diavolo's cock broke free of his pants and flopped about in front of him, throbbing half-erect. He breathed heavily as pre began to drip from the tip, the cock continuing to grow with his body. You felt your cheeks grow hot, embarrassed to watch the obscene display but finding yourself aroused by the process.

"L-love," Diavolo panted, his horns and wings erupting from his head and back, "p...please..."

You looked to Barbatos who was nowhere to be seen. With no one to tell you otherwise, you climbed Diavolo's powerful thighs and placed yourself atop his expanding lap. You wrapped your own legs around his cock, the entire thing reaching up to your chin, and began to stroke it gently with both hands. You carefully ran both hands over the tanned skin, feeling every muscle and tendon in the cock with care before steadily picking up the pace. The cock stood at attention, and Diavolo's entire body shuddered in response. Without thinking you placed your mouth around the tip as best as you could, and began licking. Diavolo moaned in ecstasy as the cock throbbed with newfound power in your mouth. You felt the pressure within slowly build until it erupted outwards. Unable to remove your head in time, a large amout of Diavolo's seed found its way into your mouth before you were thrown backwards from the force of the eruption. The cock continued to let loose powerful stream after stream of semen until the room was nearly completely covered in it. When the stream finally abated, you felt the massive body beneath you begin to relax.

You, however, were not finished. You rose from the cock and began to admire the rest of Diavolo's newly massive body. You ran each hand over his powerful new muscles, tracing every curve and line and taking the time to appreciate every individual muscle. Diavolo's body shuddered again as you reached his chest and rubbed each of nipples. A small moan escaped his lips. Eventually he seemed satisfied with your worship, and cupped you in a massive hand. Next thing you knew, you were sitting on his palm in front of his movie screen sized face, his golden eyes looking at you with adoration.

"Are you ok, my little love? I hope this all didn't come as too much of a shock to you."

You simply smiled, and brought your lips to his. The two of you exchanged the closest thing to a kiss you could, Diavolo's lips nearly engulfing your entire head. You pulled back and smiled at one another.

"I would like to apologize for ruining our sleep over, my love. And for...my unseemly behavior. Please do not think worse of me for it, and please know that even now I will never do anything to hurt you."

You knew. You'd known for nearly a year now that Diavolo would never harm you. If nothing else, tonight had simply shown you how much he truly cared for you. Life moving forward would be different for you both, but you never were one for doing things the normal way. You settled down in Diavolo's warm palm as something deep within your body began to shudder...

#obey me #diavolo #diavolo smut #male muscle growth #male shapeshift #male tf #mg #muscle tf #macrophilia #sizetumblr

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the-iceni-bitch · 3 years

Text

Sweeter Than This

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!spy!Reader

Words: Mobile again ☹️

Summary: You almost miss your first Valentine’s Day with Bucky, but you have a plan to make it up to him.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex(f receiving), salad tossing, unprotected anal sex, use of butt plug), violence (standard canon stuff), SMUT, 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: Happy V-Day y’all! Here’s the next entry in my Holidays With Bucky series (with so Sam sprinkled in) and it’s a fun one! Unfortunately, the power is out at my place right now due to snow and because my city sucks at preparations I’m probably not going to have power until at least Monday, so we’ll see if I’m able to deliver on my other promised Valentine’s treats for you all.

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!

Bucky hated clubs so much.

The loud music, the overcrowding, the overpriced drinks. He was absolutely miserable.

It didn’t help that Sam was bouncing around like an idiot, enjoying the atmosphere with a stupid grin on his face. Would it kill the man to act like a professional for once?

They’d followed the target to the Cross Club here in Prague after four days of surveillance with nothing to show for it, and now they were watching him talk to some new player in a VIP booth. God he hoped this would be over soon.

“What?” Buck shouted over the music. Sam had said something, but even with his super soldier hearing, he couldn’t make it out over the thumping bass.

“I said, is Y/N pissed you’re missing Valentines Day?” Sam yelled, his hips still moving in time to the music.

Bucky did some quick mental math and cursed under his breath. He hadn’t seen you in almost 3 weeks. You had to head back to the States for some stupid debrief with Sharon and the big bosses while he and Sam kept chasing leads on Zemo here in Europe. He hadn’t even realized it was Valentines Day.

“Shit, he’s moving.” Sam said, tapping Buck on the shoulder as the mark stood up and moved towards the dance floor.

“Fuck, can’t we go around?” Bucky whined, starting to follow after Sam towards the crowd.

“Y’know, when your girlfriend’s not around, you’re such an old man.” Sam teased. “We don’t wanna lose him, so pull the stick out of your ass and try to look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Buck just rolled his eyes and trailed after him, doing his best to avoid the writhing, sweaty bodies that kept trying to grind against him. Sam was right, it was a lot easier to enjoy these types of ops when you were with him.

He didn’t know how they managed to keep eyes on the target as he moved through the crowd, but they saw him head out one of the exits and were following after him within a few minutes.

“Hey, Wilson? Where the fuck is he?” Buck hissed as he opened the door to an empty alley.

“Shit, hold on, let me pull up Redwing.”

“I still can’t believe you named that fucking thing.” Buck said exasperatedly.

Sam didn’t have a chance to reply before a motorcycle ripped past the two of them.

“Was that him?” Bucky yelled as he whipped his head after it. “Motherfucker!”

“Calm down, I got it.” Sam said, summoning his wings.

“Oh, I guess I’ll just run after him then? I told you we should’ve brought a car!”

“I could carry you.” Sam said teasingly, giving Bucky a stupid grin.

“Oh fuck you.” Buck said, flipping Sam off as he chuckled at him. “Shit!”

The two of them dove out of the way as a Lexus tore into the alley, stopping just short of hitting them.

“Hey assholes! Happy Valentine’s Day!!!” You shouted as you rolled down the window, a massive grin splitting your face.

“Baby!? What’re you doing here?!?” Bucky asked, beaming back at you.

“I had to get the fuck out of D.C. There was no way I’d miss our first Valentine’s Day! Besides, I missed the field! Now get in, I managed to tag his bike but I don’t want him to get out of range.”

“Shotgun!” Sam called with a grin on his face, making you laugh.

“What?!? Fuck you Wilson! You’re gonna make me sit in the back when this is the first time I’ve seen my girl in weeks?” Bucky said in disbelief.

“Sorry Barnes, you should’ve called it!”

“Yeah babe, you really should’ve called it.” You teased as he crawled into the back of the vehicle with a scowl.

“I can’t believe you’re taking his side.” He pouted at you as Sam climbed after him, bringing the back of his seat up to crash against Buck’s knees.

“There’s no sides, honey, it’s shotgun rules.” You said as you peeled out of the alleyway.

“Whatever, could you move your seat up Wilson?”

“Nope.” Sam said grinning over his shoulder before cursing under his breath and bracing one hand against the ceiling as you swerved around a slow moving van. “Jesus, Y/N! Maybe take it a little slower, we’re still in the city.”

You just snorted before taking a sharp turn at an inadvisable speed, barely tapping on the brakes and sending Bucky sliding across the backseat.

“Put your seatbelts on, idiots.” You scolded as the two of them tried to find something to grab onto.

“Honey, pedestrian, pedestrian, Pedestrian!!!” Buck screamed as he buckled himself in, screwing his eyes closed.

“Yeah, I see them.” You said as you took another turn at the last second, barely missing the man who was crossing the street.

“Oh my god! This is how I’m going to die.” Sam said, his knuckles white on the dashboard as you flew up a hill, the car actually suspending in midair for a beat before crashing back to the street with a jolt. “Stuck in a car with a crazy woman and her 100 year old boyfriend.”

“You’re so fucking dramatic.” You said with an eye roll, glancing at him sideways. “It’s like you’ve never been in a high speed chase before.”

“Eyes on the road!” Bucky shouted at you as an unsuspecting couple started to step off the curb directly into your path.

You hopped onto the walkway behind them to avoid the brake lights in front of you and your two passengers started letting out a steady stream of curses as you weaved between pedestrians and carts.

“Just relax you two, we’ve almost got him.” You said exasperatedly, somehow speeding up even more.

You rounded another corner and the bike popped into view, speeding out of the city at a breakneck speed.

“Shit, gun!” Sam screamed as the biker turned around, hefting an AK-47 and pointing it directly at the windshield.

He and Bucky ducked, hands covering their heads. They flinched as they heard a series of pops, then straightened up slowly when they realized the windshield was still intact.

“Yeah, it’s bulletproof.” You said with a grin as you kept the car steady with one hand, reaching under your seat to grab something. You handed a giant pistol to Sam. “There should be a rifle under the backseat, baby.”

“And what exactly do you want us to do with these?” Sam asked warily as Bucky drew out the rifle and nodded appreciatively.

“Shoot at him.” You said, following the bike around a sharp turn that had the boys bracing themselves.

“Fuck that! If you think I’m sticking half my body out of a window while you’re driving like this you’re insane!” Sam said in disbelief. “Besides the car is bulletproof.

“Yeah, well the tires aren’t, and if he hits one of those while I’m driving this fast, we’re all gonna get shredded.”

Bucky shook his head before rolling down his window and pulling his upper body out of the car, bringing the rifle up to return fire.

“You are both fucking crazy!” Sam said, rolling his own window down and shoving his shoulders out, bringing up his pistol.

The biker turned his focus to Bucky while Sam covered him, and you took the opportunity to speed up.

“What’re you doing, babe?” Bucky shouted into the car as you started to get closer to the bike.

“I’m gonna ram him.” You yelled back. “Keep covering me!”

“Umm, isn’t he supposed to lead us to Zemo? Shit!” Sam yelled, a bullet whizzing by his ear.

“I don’t think he’s leading us anywhere Sammy.”

“Well, we could still get information out of him!”

“Yeah, these guys have proven to be pretty impervious to interrogations, Wilson.” Buck said, gripping the roof of the car with his vibranium hand as you followed the bike around another curve.

“I really just need his phone!” You yelled as you closed the distance even further, now only 25 feet from the back tire of the bike. “You might want to get back inside.”

Sam yanked his upper body back into the vehicle with a curse and Buck slid back inside easily as you pressed the gas pedal to the floor. You hit the bike in a few seconds and sent it and the rider rolling over the car with a thud. As soon as it was clear you slammed on the brakes, sending the vehicle spinning out.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod....” Sam was screaming as the car whipped around over and over, his eyes screwed shut and his hand braced against the roof of the vehicle while his foot braced against the dashboard.

Bucky just clenched his jaw and ripped his vibranium fingers through the back door to hold himself in place, shaking his head at Wilson.

The vehicle finally came to a stop about 200 feet away from where the bike had crashed. Sam wrenched his door open and dove out of the car, bending over and vomiting at the side of the road.

“You ok there Sammy?” You asked, rising from the driver’s seat gracefully and looking at your friend with concern as Bucky almost climbed over the front seat with a wince and joined you.

“Oh, what are you wearing?” He groaned as he finally got a good look at you. “Are you trying to kill me?”

It was a skin tight, patent leather pink dress that was pushing your tits together and up in an absolutely delicious way. The skirt barely covered your ass and he was sure there was no way you could bend over in it without flashing whoever was nearby.

“I told you, baby, it’s Valentines Day.” You sad with a grin as you stepped closer to him.

He moved to wrap his arms around you but you stepped away at the last second, moving back towards where the bike crashed with a light laugh as he let out a frustrated huff.

“What is wrong with you two?!” Sam said as he started to follow after you. “Your girlfriend almost kills me and all you want to do is jump her as soon as it’s over.”

“I mean, did you see that dress?” Bucky said teasingly as he joined your friend, walking a little faster to catch up with you.

“Got the phone!!” You said triumphantly as you straightened back up from your inspection of the dead body. “And it’s still in ok shape! I’m gonna call this in real quick and then we can head back.”

“No! I’m not going anywhere if you’re driving!” Sam said, shaking his head vehemently. “Gimme the keys.”

“C’mon Sammy!” You said with an eye roll.

“You do not get to call me Sammy right now, you psycho!” He said, snatching the keys out of your outstretched hand as you laughed at him. “And neither of you gets to sit shotgun! You sit in the back and think about what you’ve done.”

“Jesus, fine dad.” You said as you slid into the back seat, Bucky chuckling as he slid in after you and slammed the door closed.

Sam pulled the car forward a few feet, turning the wheel sharply before throwing it in reverse and spinning it in the opposite direction as he backed up.

“Uh, Sammy?” You said as he repeated the process. “Maybe just crank the wheel all the way and pull a little further forward?”

“Yeah, it’s not called a 13 point turn, Wilson.”

“Both of you shut the fuck up!! I’m not taking driving advice from you!” He shouted over his shoulder as he did the exact same thing and you lost it, laughing hysterically.

“Oh my god, there’s like 15 feet of road that you’re not using!” You said breathlessly as you cracked up Bucky grinning as he watched you fold over in laughter.

“I cannot believe the shit I have to put up with.” He muttered as he finally straightened out the vehicle and drove back towards the city, doing his best to ignore your dying laughter.

Bucky was beaming at you as you settled down, leaning back against the seat as you wiped tears from your eyes. You smiled back at him and gave him a wink.

“Did I tell you how much I love that dress?” He said as he scooted closer to you, his eyes raking over your chest before sinking lower to gaze at your thighs.

“No.” You said teasingly, biting your lip at him and leaning towards him just a little bit.

“Cuz I fucking love that dress.” He growled at you as he wrapped his hands around your waist and drew you closer, nuzzling himself into your neck.

You gave a soft sigh as he ran his teeth over your throat, flinging one leg over his lap as he moved his vibranium hand from your waist to cup your ass. He moved his mouth up to the hinge of your jaw as he pressed you into him.

“Shit, Bucky.” You moaned as he pulled you onto his lap, his hands running over your thighs to tuck under your skirt as he sucked a bruise against your neck. “I swear to god, if you ruin this dress...”

“Oh, what the fuck guys?!” Sam said as he peeked at you through the rear view mirror. “I’m two feet away from you! It’s like you’re a couple of teenagers.”

“Sorry Sammy!” You whined before letting out a gasp as Bucky nuzzled himself between your tits at the same time he bucked his hips up into you, grinding his hardening cock against you.

“Oh, I do not get paid enough for this shit.” Sam groaned as he pulled the car into the parking lot of the hotel and jolted it to a halt. “I cannot believe I have to put up with you horny idiots.”

“Bye Sam!” You called after him as he slammed the door closed, waving a dismissive hand at you as he started to head back to his room. “Mmm, Bucky!”

He drew the straps of your dress down over your arms and wrapped his lips around one of your nipples as you arched your back into his face.

“Jesus Christ, I fucking missed you.” He groaned before moving his mouth up to yours, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth as he laid you down across the backseat.

“Yeah? What’d you miss baby?” You murmured against his lips, wrapping your legs around him and ripping his shirt over his head.

“Missed the way you smell.” He murmured against your neck as he nuzzled into your hair. “Missed these fucking perfect tits and how well they fit in my hands.” He whispered into your ear as he brought his hands up to palm your breasts, making you whine.

“Fuck, baby. You’re making me so wet.” You said breathlessly as a fresh rush of arousal leaked out of you, your fingers moving to work at undoing his fly.

“Good.” He growled against your collarbone as his he dipped one hand under your ass and pressed you into his hard on. “Cuz I missed that pussy the fucking most.”

“Shit.” You hissed as his vibranium hand ripped off your panties in one quick motion before his hands moved to shove your dress up around your waist. “Don’t you dare fucking rip this dress, Barnes!”

“I’m being careful.” He said with a chuckle before lining himself up. He teased his tip against your entrance before slowly sinking into you, grinning as he watched your eyes roll back in your skull as your lids fluttered, a moan escaping from your lips.

He drew himself out halfway, really taking his time as he felt himself drag against every inch of the warm channel between your legs, then slammed his hips forward with enough force that you had to brace your hand against the door to keep your head from cracking against it. You had to bite your lip to keep from screaming as you came immediately, your back arching up off the seat as your pussy spasmed and fluttered around his cock.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you miss me too?” Bucky said with a grin as he kept fucking into you, watching your chest heave as you started to come down from your first orgasm. He hooked one hand under your knee and drew it up to your waist, spreading you apart even further.

“Shit, yes!” You moaned as his dick thrust even deeper into you, hitting a new spot that had you seeing stars. “Missed this cock so fucking much.”

“Yeah? You miss feeling me in this tight little pussy?” He said as he felt you clench around him, your hips meeting his thrusts desperately.

“Fuck, Bucky! My pussy needs you so bad. Need your big cock inside me all the time.” You let out a gasp as he brought his vibranium hand between the two of you to strum at your clit. You wrapped your hand around his wrist to keep him in place as you tossed your head back. “Need to feel you stretch me and split me open, baby.”

“Jesus, keep talking.” He murmured as he collapsed on top of you, burying his face in your neck as he started moving his hips even faster. “Love hearing you use that filthy mouth of yours.”

“Yeah, babe? You wanna hear me talk about how much this pussy needs your big cock?” Your grinned when he let out a groan against your neck. “My pussy would get so fucking wet every time I thought about that dick. Nobody fucks me like you do. Oh god, right there!”

“Damn, honey. You’re squeezing me so good. You gonna cum again?”

You just nodded before a sob ripped through your chest, your knuckles turning white as your grip on his vibranium wrist tightening and a wave a pleasure crashed over you. Your legs squeezed his hips as you thumped your fist against the door, your torso rolling underneath Bucky as your cunt clamped down on him, making him twitch.

You felt his hips stuttering as you writhed underneath him, and with just a few thrusts he was filling you up, panting against your neck as he sank on top of you, pressing his full weight into you as he came down.

“Oh my god, happy fucking Valentine’s Day.” He moaned into your hair.

“Shit, I still need to give you your present, baby!!” You said with a grin as you ran your hands over his shoulders.

“I don’t need a present, sweetheart.” He said lazily before peppering soft kisses over your throat.

“Oh, I really think you’re gonna want to open this one.” You sighed, wriggling a little underneath him.

You grabbed his flesh hand and drew it between your legs slowly, dragging it over your sex until his fingers brushed against the jewel that was nestled between your ass cheeks. He sat up with a jolt when he realized what you were suggesting, making you laugh excitedly as he gave you a massive grin.

“Oh my god, Y/N, I’ve been waiting for this.” He said as he flipped you over, smacking your ass as you giggled at him. He spread your cheeks apart and groaned when he got a look at the pink jewel of the plug you had inserted earlier in the day.

He gripped the plug and drew it out of you slowly, biting his lower lip as he watched you pussy clench at the sensation. His breath came out in a hiss once it was free, your pretty hole gaping and fluttering at the loss as you moaned underneath him, pressing your ass back into his palms.

“Fuck, I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond before he was yanking your hips back and up, tossing your thighs over his shoulders. You let out a shriek when he ran his tongue over your cunt in a heavy stripe before dragging the flat of the thick muscle over your asshole.

“Fuck, oh my god!” You screamed, trying to find something to brace yourself against as he ran the tip of his tongue around your rim, teasing you and making both of your holes throb with need.

He kept teasing you with his tongue for what felt like hours, alternating between heavy drags that ran over your entire sex and tiny kitten licks that were turning you into a begging, whimpering mess, a steady stream of slick leaking out of your swollen pussy.

“Gotta make sure you’re good and ready for me, gorgeous.” He murmured, giving you a momentary reprieve before he shoved his tongue inside your puckered hole.

The sound you made was otherworldly, halfway between a moan and a cry. He almost came just from the pure wantonness of it, and he felt his cock twitching against your chest as he started to tongue-fuck you. You pressed your cheek to the leather of the seat as he took you apart, mewling like an idiot as he stretched you open, his thick muscle probing you as deep as he could.

“Bucky...” you mumbled before another orgasm shook you, your cunt fluttering around nothing as a wave of bliss traveled up your spine from deep in your core and making you whine as drool leaked from the corner of your mouth.

He pulled his face away from you suddenly and unwrapped his arms from around your thighs. Your muscles were jelly as he lowered your hips, your eyelids drooping as you moaned at the loss of him. Once he finally had you laid back down, he took a second to gaze at you.

He loved how fucked out you got. Your limbs were splayed out at random angles as your back rose and fell with deep breaths, the curves of your breasts just peeking out from where they were pressed against the seat. He brushed your hair away from your face to see you grinning up at him, your cheeks streaked with tears and mascara and your lipstick smeared all over your mouth and chin as you looked at him with lust blown pupils.

“We’re still not done.” He said softly before wrapping his hand around your throat and yanking you up until your back was flush against his chest, making you gasp. He brought his other hand between you to wrap around his cock and dragged it through the slick that had soaked your ruined pussy before teasing his tip against the rim of your tightest hole. “I think you’re ready for me.”

He didn’t wait for you to answer before shoving his hips forward and spearing into you. Your body tried to jolt forward at the intrusion but his palm on your throat kept you in place, holding you still as he bottomed out.

“Jesus Christ, you feel amazing.” He muttered into your hair, his fingers vibrating over your throat as you let out a whine.

He pressed down against your jugular as he started to move his hips, dragging in and out of you at a deliciously slow pace that had you keening. You were losing yourself in the new sensation of having him fill your tightest channel, his thick cock stretching you more than you’d ever been before. Your head dropped back on his shoulder as he started to move faster, the slick leaking from your pussy making it easier for him to slide in and out of you.

“Fuck, I love your body. You treat me so good baby.” He murmured against the shell of your ear. “Wanna fill all your your pretty holes and pump you full of my cum. Wish I could be inside you all the time, pretty girl.”

Your pussy was fluttering around nothing as his soft praises filled your ears, and when he dropped his hand to the apex of your thighs you almost came immediately with a cry.

“You didn’t think I forgot about this pretty pussy, did you baby?” He whispered as his metal fingers spread you apart, teasing over your entrance as his flesh hand increased the pressure on your airway and his hips picked up the pace. “You want me to fuck you with my fingers while my cock’s in your ass, honey?”

“Fuck, Bucky, I want you to spank it.” You moaned as he continued to tease you, your brain starting to shut down as the mixture of sensations overwhelmed you.

He let out a feral growl against the curve of your neck before wrapping his lips around your earlobe. “Shit, you gonna cum if I spank it?” He hissed in your ear as he kept his fingers running over your sex.

“Yeah, I’m gonna fucking cum! Need you to spank my pussy, Bucky, please.”

His teeth nipped at the hollow behind your ear at the same time he smacked your cunt and you let out a shriek as your body vibrated against him. Your thighs quivered with strain as your pussy spasmed uncontrollably, your asshole strangling Bucky’s cock as you shook in your bliss, his hand around your neck the only thing keeping you upright.

“Fuuuuck.” He hissed against your neck as his hips chased his own release. “I wanna fuck all your holes while I cum, sweetheart, get ready.”

You only had a second before he was shoving three fingers into your pussy at the same time he put two fingers in your mouth, choking you as he shoved them down your throat before you were able to relax. He groaned when you started sucking on him, swirling your tongue around his digits while his vibranium fingers curled inside of you against that sweet spot that made your eyes roll back in your skull.

He felt you clench around him everywhere and let out a groan into your hair, his cock twitching inside you as you both neared your ends.

He ground his palm against your clit and you were finished, sobbing around his fingers as you squirted your release all over his hands, his thighs, and the seat in what was the biggest orgasm of your life. Your body tried to lift itself off the seat as you came, your vision whiting out as your muscles stopped working and Bucky let you collapse forward as he finished.

Another few thrusts of his stuttering hips and he let out a wordless roar as he came inside you, filling you completely with his spend until it was leaking out around his cock. He collapsed on top of you as his body rolled on a wave of pleasure, his breath hitching in his chest.

The two of you laid there tangled with each other for what felt like hours. You were so utterly spent that the passage of time no longer held any meaning, and you completely forgot where you were.

“Holy fuck.” Bucky muttered after a while, still unable to move anything except his face, which he nuzzled into your hair.

“Yeah.” You muttered into the seat cushions, your brain finally resetting.

“I mean, holy fuck.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Yeah.” You said again, wiggling your toes look experimentally as your body started to come back down.

“I’ve never cum that hard before in my life.” He muttered as he drew his hands over your arms until they were pressing into your shoulders, moving your hair aside so he could pepper kisses all over your neck.

“Me either.” You whispered, turning your head over your shoulder so you could press your lips to his softly.

He pulled away once he was able, giving you a sloppy grin as he managed to sit up, pulling out of you gingerly and groaning at the sight of his cum leaking out of you. You twisted until you were able to sit up yourself, leaning back against the car door as you beamed back at him.

“Best fucking Valentine’s Day ever.” He muttered, drawing you onto his lap to kiss you deeply, and wondering if it would be too tacky to tell you he loved you after the first time you let him fuck your ass.

Tags!!!!!

@buckysnumberonegirl @slothspaghettiwrites @captain-asguard @starlightcrystalline @harrysthiccthighss @quxxnxfhxll @bonkywobble @chrisevanscardigan @chubbybuckydumpling @StanAllStarks @blackestpinkworld @fistmebuckyskywalker @wandering-spiritash @khadineberry @muzzyandbusy @slytheriin2002 @isysen @WanderingAlice00 @kaleeelizabeth58 @tlcwrites @angrybirdcr @unsaltedalmonds @amerikakapitanyy @lizette50 @daughterofthenight117 @obsessivereaderchick @drabblewithfrannybarnes @stargazingfangirl18 @jack-skellingtons-stuff @chrissquares @msmarvelwrites

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writefandoms · 3 years

Text

Unwanted Feelings

Summary: Three times when Levi didn’t notice you, and the one where he did.

Word count: 1k

Levi Ackerman x Reader

Jealousy wasn’t something you were accustomed to feeling.

In your line of work, it was a risk to put your heart out there. Titans rampaged beyond the walls, one of them could be the death of you at any moment.

The tightness in your chest confused you as you watched your captain interact with the redhead.

They weren’t doing anything even remotely romantic, sitting across from you eating lunch. But the way her eyes roamed his features had you clenching your fist. You tried to reason with your heart, calm the storm brewing within your mind.

Everyone admired Captain Levi, yourself included. It was almost impossible not to.

He was strong, wise, and obviously cared about those around him. Even if he held the world at arms length, he was one of the most empathetic members in the Survey Corps.

He personally requested for you to be placed on his team, to which you eagerly accepted. Petra was a close friend of yours and wouldn’t do anything to purposely spite you. She had known him longer, so of course they were closer.

But when you heard her let out a soft giggle at something Levi said you had to leave. Quickly standing up, all your squad members turned their attention towards you, even the Captain.

“You alright?” The concern in the redhead's voice made your stomach turn.

“Yeah, I forgot I had to go do something before training.” Before any of them could speak up you slid from your seat. “I’ll see you all later.”

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

Another unwanted feeling filled your chest when you overheard a group of new recruits talking amongst themselves.

Hearing Levi’s name amongst the chatter made your ears focus on the low murmuring.

“He was kind of scary at first, but isn’t he kind of hot?” The girl was about your height, with her blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail.

Her figure screamed feminine as her clothes clutched her nice curves.

Her body wasn’t built and muscular like yours, years of training was to blame. Her eyes shined brightly, a stark contrast to your dull ones.

Even her smile was bright, after losing so many comrades you found it difficult to smile so easily.

Are you kidding me? Mentally slapping yourself for comparing yourself to someone probably close to five years younger than you.

You hate it when men break you down to just your physical appearance, yet here you are doing the same to a total stranger.

Still the venomous voice in the back of your mind lingered, making you zip your brown jacket.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

There wasn’t any reason for you to dislike the man. Commander Erwin was an excellent leader with a brilliant mind.

With his perfect face, neat blonde hair, and gorgeous ocean eyes, this man could pass himself off as a model. As the raven haired man spoke up to the commander, there was always an air of respect towards the blonde.

Captain Levi always obeyed Commander Erwin's every order, no matter how dangerous. It was obvious that the shorter man put all his trust into the commander.

While everyone in the Survey Corps had to put their trust in each other, there was something different about Levi and Erwin.

Erwin believed in Captain Levi’s strength and trusted he would always get the job done, no matter how impossible.

Levi followed Commander Erwin blindly, he truly believed that this man would be humanity's savior.

The bond they shared was deeper than any you’ve seen during your time on duty.

Hearty chuckles leave the blondes mouth as the shorter man fails to hide a rare smirk. They are so easy going around each other, empty shot glasses in their hands.

You had to avert your eyes lest your superiors feel your icy stare. There wasn’t any competition for the seat that Erwin currently held within the captains heart. Love wasn’t the precise term for it, it was something deeper than that.

Risking another glance over towards the pair, scanning there relaxed figures. Roaming up the bodies to land on a sharp gaze. Captain Levi stared straight ahead, eyes catching yours and not letting go.

Time slowed around you, until the giant next to Levi called for his attention once again. Levi released you from his grasp bringing his glass to his lips, not facing but clearly listening to the man besides him.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

It was right after a titan capturing mission. There weren’t any casualties which was almost too hard to believe.

Commander Erwin gave both squad leaders, Hanji and Levi, permission to lead a small group of soldiers to capture a straggler.

In the end we managed to catch a seven and nine meter titan, to which Squad leader Hanji practically cried at. Riding back to base, it was the first time the burden of death didn’t hang over your shoulders. A nice change for once.

“Good work today.” A flat voice spoke besides you. Turning slightly, your short Captain rides to your right. So lost in thought you never even noticed his approach.

“Thank you, Captain.” Not really knowing what else to say considering all you did was play tag with a titan. But not dying was an impressive feat, so you’ll take the rare compliment.

He only looked straight ahead, without any acknowledgement. You half expected him to ride ahead of you, meet up with Hanji. But his horse remained next to yours, a natural silence between you two.

“There should be a new shipment of tea leaves arriving today.” He still stared straight ahead, “You should try a cup after training.”

It took a moment to process what he said, “I don’t know how to make a cup of tea, without it tasting like shit.”

Cringing at how informally you just spoke to your captain, you waited for the impending punishment.

“I’ll teach you.”

You couldn’t stop your head from whipping to your right. He was now slightly facing you, eyes examining your face, gouging your reaction.

Lips tilted upwards for the first time in a while, “I’d love that.”

There was a gleam in his eyes that you’d never seen before. The sun rays met his steel eyes, light revealing small specks of blue with his grey irises.

He broke contact first, looking away with a nod. Motioning for his horse to speed up, to which the black stallion obeyed.

Watching as the Wings of Freedom on his back flapping in the wind.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #x reader #snk levi #captain levi #attack on titan #snk headcanons #petra ral #levi ackerman #snk erwin #erwin smith

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cheri-translates · 3 years

Text

[CN] Gavin’s Spreading Wings Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 展翼之约, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

It is very important to read his birthday R&S before this!

[ This was released on 24 July 2021 ]

[ PROLOGUE ]

While heading home after work, I receive a call from Eli.

I’m guessing there’s information regarding the matter I asked of him from before.

MC: Hello? Captain Eli? Since you suddenly called, does this mean there’s a solution to what I asked about the other time?

Eli: That’s right. I personally made a trip to the municipal administration last week and retrieved the item for you. I’ve already asked City Express to send it over to you.

MC: That’s great! Thanks, Captain Eli!

Eli: It’s no problem. Although it took a little effort, it was retrieved eventually.

MC: I really have to thank Captain Eli. This item is pretty important to me, so you’ve helped me out big time.

Eli: Ah, it’s nothing. Oh yes, the STF is leaving tonight. Gavin just left the bureau and should be heading towards your place now. I shan’t disturb the both of you. I’ll hang up now. Watch out for the delivery.

MC: Mm, I’ve got it. I’ve troubled Captain Eli this time. When our TV station has a matchmaking show in the future, I’ll definitely recommend you!

I hang up. Sure enough, I receive a parcel from the STF not long after reaching home.

Tearing open the packaging, I see a dark coloured square box with the municipal administration’s logo engraved on it.

After removing the cover, a badge sits quietly among the flannel.

A cold light glints on the surface of the coiled design. The flag and peace dove clearly declare the rules of justice and protection.

It silently conveys a certain dignity that can make one hold their breath.

During an awards ceremony organised by the municipal government a few months ago, Gavin wasn’t able to attend in person. As a result, they didn’t manage to give him an honorary badge.

Although the municipal administration made several calls, the STF has been busy with missions, and Gavin hasn’t had the time to collect it.

This matter is something which I’ve always kept in my heart.

I feel that this honour, which represents an “acknowledgement”, shouldn’t be treated so flippantly and hastily.

Hence, while preparing for Gavin’s birthday, I asked Eli way in advance to retrieve this from the municipal administration using the name of STF.

This is an “acknowledgement” which belongs to him, and I wish to hand it to him personally.

All of a sudden, there are knocks at the door. Knowing that the person outside is Gavin, I quickly hide the badge and the box into a cupboard before opening the door.

Then, the person outside wraps me in a full embrace. His scent overtakes my senses.

MC: Are you leaving tonight?

Gavin responds with a “mm”. After nuzzling his head gently in the crook of my neck, he releases his hold on me.

In the short span of half a minute, he seems to have already derived all the strength he needs, and the light in his eyes is very bright.

MC: There’s no need to worry about me, but you have to take care of your safety.

Gavin: I’ll do my best to rush back. Don't worry.

The both of us speak at the same time. Gavin can’t help but laugh. Taking my hand, he pulls me outside.

Gavin: Let’s go and have dinner. We’ll eat outside today.

MC: Okay!

Walking along the street, I look at Gavin’s calm and resolute figure. Recalling the badge which is sitting quietly at home, I secretly purse my lips into a smile.

This year, my birthday plan is a secret which Gavin doesn’t know about. I’m looking forward to the day the secret is revealed, along with his reactions.

[ DATE ]

The faraway snow-capped mountains are reminiscent of a fog coloured outline. They stand at the end of the horizon, faraway and reticent.

On a road not too far from the border, I disembark from the car, standing underneath a street sign while staring ahead.

Approximately half a month ago, Gavin was sent to this city for a mission. Today is the day he wraps up the mission.

It’s also his birthday.

At this moment, my phone rings. I answer it quickly.

Eli: MC, have you reached the location I gave you?

MC: Mm, I’ve reached. Captain Eli, when will you guys be dismissed?

Eli: We’ve already been dismissed and are heading your way. Just stay where you are, and you’ll definitely cross paths with Gavin. Don’t worry.

MC: That’s great. I’ll thank Captain Eli in advance then~

After hanging up, I tap open my memo and verify its contents once more.

MC: The aviation park, guesthouse, cake, and presents. Mm, no problem at all!

I turn my phone off, thinking about how aside from celebrating Gavin’s birthday, I’m also shouldering a very “heavy responsibility”.

Since Gavin wasn’t personally present for the awards ceremony conducted by the municipal government, there’s a medal which has yet to be given to him.

After learning about this piece of news not too long ago, I’ve remembered it in my heart, and specially asked Eli to retrieve this medal from the municipal government in the name of STF.

With a really huge and hidden personal motive, I wish to personally hand this important honour to Gavin on this most special day.

The sudden chirping of birds pulls my train of thought back to reality.

I look at the time. It’s still very early, and the first glimmer of light has just appeared in the sky.

After waiting for a while longer, I spot a group of uniformed men appearing at the end of the road. My heart, which had been dangling in the air, immediately settles.

The person leading the group is wearing a combat uniform. Strands of brown hair curl up in the breeze, and he currently has his head turned towards a squad mate behind him as he says something.

Although they appear to have experienced a fierce battle, the atmosphere is very light-hearted.

Looks like this mission successfully reached its end.

Likely sensing my gaze, he suddenly turns his head, staring afar off towards my direction.

After he getting a clear view of my figure, those amber eyes suddenly freeze. The strands atop his head curl up in a silly manner, as though he doesn’t know how to react.

The early morning mist has not yet dissipated. The world is enveloped in a tender and pale greenish blue, and the chirping of birds occasionally grows faint and near.

The whirring of a helicopter drifts from overhead as it circles in the sky. It’s the aircraft which is here to send them back.

Seeing that Gavin is slightly at a loss, I can’t help but chuckle, waving at him.

Gavin immediately walks over to me, his pace much faster than before. The squad mates follow behind him in a leisurely manner, not planning to disrupt this early morning meeting.

Gavin stands in front of me. He sweeps a glance over my white denim jacket, his gaze a little astonished.

MC: How is it? Does it look good?

Gavin nods, responding in a straightforward manner.

Gavin: Looks good.

MC: I specially prepared a matching set~

While speaking, I pass him the bag in my hands. Gavin receives it and takes a look. With a chuckle, he puts on the exact same jacket deftly.

Although it’s just a simple white demin jacket, it makes him look refreshed and cool.

The early morning mist dyes his eyes, giving them a tender coolness. When his eyes meet mine, they instantly melt into a warm gaze.

At this point, Eli and other squad mates walk over as well. A rope ladder descends from the helicopter, and Eli arches a brow at us.

Eli: This rascal was so anxious to see you that he almost flew back to Loveland City directly. This is good. He doesn't have to fly now.

He pats Gavin on the shoulder.

Eli: Captain Gavin, enjoy your birthday vacation. We brothers will head off first.

One by one, they climb up the rope ladder and board the helicopter. Tang Chao whistles, and he’s grabbed through the hatch by Eli.

Gavin doesn’t bother about them. He removes his half finger gloves, revealing his dry yet soft finger pads. He entwines all ten fingers with mine.

He lifts his eyes to look at me, and they are filled with an insuppressible brightness. He asks a question that he clearly knows the answer to.

Gavin: Why did you come here?

The helicopter circles into the distance, accompanied by a deafening roar. I grin while bringing my left hand to my mouth, curving it into the shape of a trumpet.

MC: It’s clearly to... wish you a happy birthday!

The public bus brings us to the entrance of a park in the outskirts of the city. I pull Gavin off the bus, and we stand at the entrance of the park together.

Turning my head, I scrape Gavin’s palm.

MC: May I know if Mr Birthday Boy is ready to spend a day of surprises with me?

The hand that’s intertwined with Gavin’s moves forward decisively. The smile in his voice is unambiguously clear.

Gavin: Of course.

When I was planning the birthday route a few days ago, I unintentionally chanced upon information pertaining to this park.

As compared to other parks, there doesn’t seem to be anything special about this aviation park.

It’s just another slow-paced venue to relax in within the city. It has a pond which can’t be considered large, and a few willow trees grow along it.

Magazines are displayed on the counter of a small stall, and a child is standing on his tiptoes, selecting a popsicle from the freezer beside it.

If I had to mention the biggest difference, it would be that this park was transformed from an airbase.

In order to remember that it was once an airbase, there’s a white statute of an aircraft in the middle of the park.

Similarly, in order to be in line with the theme of “aviation”, all the shops in the park display miniature aircraft models.

Akin to colourful birds, they carry a yearning for the unconstrained sky.

Perhaps due to it being the summer vacation, a teacher has brought children to visit this ex-airbase.

The children wear yellow hats while chattering away. They surround the aircraft models, debating on which one looks the best.

Gavin and I walk along the shade of trees unhurriedly. When passing by the aircraft statue, he suddenly asks me a question.

Gavin: Did you bring me here because this used to be an airbase?

His gaze flits past the aircraft statue, then pauses on my face.

I nod in acknowledgement.

MC: I heard that this used to be one of the first airbases. In the past, many aircrafts were studied here. It’s a place with lots of commemorative value, and bears the weight of the years when people headed into the sky. Since I’m celebrating your birthday in this city, I felt that I should pick a location which is slightly more special. Otherwise, it wouldn’t leave much of an impression when we recollect it in the future.

Gavin chuckles, then reaches out to pinch my face.

Gavin: Seeing you appear early in the morning while dismissing the squad was already enough to leave a deep impression on me.

I laugh in embarrassment, then continue the earlier topic.

MC: But the airbase is only half of the reason.

I pause, my sentence ending on an upward lilt.

MC: There’s another half.

Gavin arches his brows, as though wondering what other surprises I could have hidden in this small park.

Tugging on his hand, we turn into a small path on the left, a confident smile on my face.

MC: Come with me.

The small path extends forward, and the sound of our footsteps mingles with the rustling of leaves.

After making a turn, everything becomes clear.

Before us, there’s a spacious and empty patch of land. Green grass grows wildly, covering the runway which was once used for aircrafts.

The wreckage of a plane remains on the ground, the rust on its body akin to a brown coloured decorative pattern.

Everything reveals the creases of time, but certain lingering aspirations can still be felt from it.

Gavin: Is this the other half of the reason?

He looks at me, his brows arched slightly.

MC: This was the original location of the airbase. I heard that this abandoned plane used to have the most excellent workmanship. I felt that if you knew about such a place, you’d want to take a look. Also, this is quite a nice place for a hidden scenery~

Gavin suddenly reaches out to brush dust off the body of the aircraft, revealing a series of numbers.

Gavin: Y2251. This used to be an air freighter.

Gavin pauses for a moment. As though he grasped at a fragment from his memories, his eyelashes stir gently in slight disbelief.

Gavin: A very long time ago, I made an aircraft model. This was the aircraft I referenced and modelled it after.

MC: ?!

I’m stunned for half a second. When I see myself in Gavin’s calm and composed eyes, I can’t help but chuckle.

MC: I suddenly feel as though this world might actually operate in a circle. We might move and turn around, but there will come a day when we become part of the circle.

Gavin responds with a “mm”. He gazes fixedly at the set of numbers, as though patching up fragments of memories bit by bit.

Gavin: I used it to participate in a competition and won a prize. Back then, the officer who gave out the award came from this base.

MC: What kind of a competition was it?

Gavin: An aeromodelling competition. The prize was a small aviator badge.

We walk past the propeller of the aircraft wreckage with very light footsteps.

In my mind, a face even younger than the one right now surfaces before my eyes, along with a pair of clear amber eyes.

MC: Wow, that sounds really incredible!

I suddenly see the introductory plate next to the plane, which has a picture of how it formally looked like.

Smooth contours, blue wings, floating cloud patterns on its tail... just like a beautiful flying bird.

MC: How pretty. When you referenced this plane, did you make an exact replica?

Gavin nods. He looks at the plate, his gaze very serious.

Gavin: It was more or less the same as this.

He hesitates slightly, then adds on.

Gavin: Erm... it didn’t look as good. But it was very practical and could fly.

He gestures with his hands, pointing towards a faraway ginkgo tree.

Gavin: Around here to over there - the distance of half a field.

We walk over to that ginkgo tree. Its leaves are luxuriant as it stands next to the side gate of the park.

Since it’s summer, the leaves are lush and green.

A swing is swaying gently and quietly under the tree, and a few ginkgo leaves have fallen onto the wooden seat.

Tugging Gavin over to the swing, we continue our earlier conversation.

MC: We probably walked around 500 metres to get here. An aircraft model which is able to fly 500 metres is so incredible! You must have really liked it in the past in order to do such an amazing job.

Gavin holds the rope of the swing. He nods after hearing this, and his voice is certain.

Gavin: I did like it very much.

Seeing from my expression that I’m about to burst from curiosity, he can’t help but chuckle before going along with me and speaking.

Gavin: Back then, I bought many atlases related to planes. While studying them slowly, I conducted test flights too. I spent almost half of my summer vacation on this. Although the process was very fulfilling, there were times when I faced setbacks. Once, I got into a huff and tossed all the spare parts into my drawer and went to bed.

MC: What happened next?

A nostalgic smile flashes in Gavin’s eyes.

Gavin: I couldn’t fall asleep, so I got up and took all of them out of the drawer. I fumbled around and managed to construct the extending and retracting mechanism of the wings. The next day, I slept till late in the afternoon... My mom didn’t wake me up.

MC: Pfft.

I can almost envision a youth who is sound asleep under the covers, a prototype plane laying quietly on the table.

A breeze enters through the curtains. It’s tender and light-hearted.

MC: Looks like it really isn’t easy to construct an aircraft model successfully.

I’m a little awed.

MC: I remember when we were doing handicrafts in school, the teacher would always say that the final step is to engrave our names as a marker. If I were you, I’d definitely paint my own name at the most conspicuous spot, and tell everyone how incredible I am.

Gavin gives this some thought before he shakes his head.

Gavin: I didn’t engrave my name back then. It was on the small aviator badge, but it got lost after I sent it to my father’s squad.

The way he says this so naturally causes my slightly flinched expression to reveal complicated emotions.

Gavin: Now that I think about it, it wasn’t anything special.

He chuckles, his tone as light as a breeze.

Gavin: They’re all in the past.

He narrates this calmly, as though these memories have long since been shut behind a dusty door.

I think of a 14 year old Gavin. I think of that aircraft model he made personally. I think of the past he had to experience...

A sense of discontent rises from my heart, and I wish to smoothen these regrets.

I stand up, and Gavin lifts his head towards me in slight puzzlement.

Gavin: What’s wrong?

MC: How could we not eat popsicles in a park during summer? I saw a stall selling popsicles earlier. I’ll buy two sticks.

Gavin nods. Just as he’s about to stand up and follow me, I press him back onto the swing.

MC: I’ll buy it. You can just wait for me here.

Gavin arches his brows slightly as he looks at me. As though seeing through my thoughts, he nods.

MC: What flavour do you want?

Gavin: I’ll go with whatever you like.

I nod. Just as I prepare to leave, someone grips my fingers.

I turn around to see that Gavin is looking at me.

Gavin: Be safe.

After a pause, he continues.

Gavin: I’ll be waiting for you here.

MC: Mm, I’ve got it.

I nod, giving him a smile.

I’m standing at a shop near the entrance of the park. Numerous aircraft models of various styles are displayed on the counter.

However, I instantly spot one particular style exhibited in the middle. With its white body and blue wings, it looks exactly like the plane in the original picture from earlier.

When the boss sees me staring at it, he enthusiastically introduces it to me from the side.

Boss: This is a bestseller from our shop. It’s a replica of the plane in the park, built in a 1:400 ratio. This is the only piece left today.

Without hesitation, I purchase it.

Even before waiting for the boss to package it in a box, I pick up the miniature plane and store it into my bag. Then, I quickly jog into the park.

When I hurriedly weave through the crowd and make a turn at the small path, I suddenly halt in my footsteps when I spot Gavin.

He’s sitting on the swing in the park, sunlight from the summer afternoon filtering through the crevices of leaves and descending on him in specks.

A few ginkgo leaves have fallen, scattering at his feet. A few bellflowers are suddenly blown by the wind, releasing a clear and rippling sound.

Gavin watches the bellflowers quietly, and all his sharpness has been retracted.

In an instant, along with the descending ginkgo leaves, I think I see the youth who is encased and hidden by layers of solid armour.

It’s as though he has found a wound which has yet to heal completely but was forgotten with time. When he faces that scar, he waits in quiet solitude.

Akin to an instinctive reaction, I sprint towards him and take his hand.

The moment Gavin lifts his head and looks at me, I see brilliant rays lighting up his eyes.

It seems that he has grown accustomed to waiting. But this time, the person he’s waiting for has arrived as planned.

MC: Sorry, I had to queue for a long time to get the popsicles.

Gavin shakes his head, his brows arched into a smile.

Gavin: It wasn’t very long.

I stretch out my hand, waving the two popsicle sticks in my hand.

MC: Here. The other flavours were sold out, so there’s only lychee left. Give it a try.

Gavin takes one stick. I sit beside him and take a bite of the popsicle, the clear and sweet taste spreading from the tip of my tongue.

I turn my head and ask Gavin a question.

MC: Why aren’t you asking me about what gifts I prepared for you this year?

Gavin: If I said that your appearance here is already the best gift, you definitely wouldn’t be satisfied with this response.

He pauses, his tone bringing with it an unhurried upward lilt.

Gavin: So... what did you prepare for me this year?

Heading out of the park via the side gate, we make a turn at a sloping path. In front, there’s a pretty large lake.

The source of water from this lake comes from the faraway snow-capped mountains. Since there aren’t many tourists, the water in the lake is clean and pure blue.

This patch of blue is reminiscent of a gigantic jewel. It’s deep and tender, adding radiance and beauty to the snow-capped mountain, as though extending to the horizon.

There’s a tranquil guesthouse next to the lake. Gavin and I push open the gate of the courtyard together.

There’s a gigantic tree in the courtyard. July happens to be its flowering season, and the tree is layered with cloud-like petals.

I guide Gavin to the second storey. After lifting the portiere made of colourful cloth, a meticulously decorated room appears before our eyes.

Sprigs of a blossoming plant have been inserted into a vase, and a simple and unsophisticated wind chime hangs by the window.

A birthday cake stored in a transparent box is displayed on the table, and there’s a blue ribbon on it which has been tied into a bow.

Ever since we entered, I've been secretly observing Gavin’s reaction, wanting to know if he fancies such a surprise.

He doesn’t say anything. He simply looks at everything quietly, as though he doesn’t want to miss out on anything.

Then, he walks over to the window, fiddling with the wind chime gently. He sits at the edge of the window casually, and stretches out his hand towards me.

Understanding this immediately, I walk over, placing my hand in his unfurled palm. Sunlight from outside the window envelops this square inch world, and it is tender and tranquil.

Gavin: A very long time ago, somebody told me that I can’t be unhappy on my birthday.

Gavin: Because this day doesn’t just belong to me. It also belongs to everyone who loves me, and the people who have prepared and looked forward to this day for a very long time.

Gavin: Celebrating my birthday with you for the fourth time, I think I truly understand the meaning in those words.

He lifts his eyes, looking at me quietly.

Gavin: I’m very happy. Not because it’s my birthday, but because there’s someone who wishes for me to be happy.

The wind chime that I hung up at the window jingles, akin to a song with an unknown melody.

I had prepared many, many things that I wanted to tell him at this moment. But right now, I swallow these words back.

MC: The person who told you that must have been looking forward to this day very much, just like me. Looking forward to giving you well wishes, and looking forward to you being happy because of the surprises I prepared.

I wink.

MC: Since the atmosphere is just right, it’s time to unwrap your gift.

Very carefully, I retrieve the miniature plane that I purchased earlier from my bag, handing it to Gavin under his watchful gaze.

MC: This aircraft model is a belated gift from MC to 14 year old Gavin. I hope he remembers to engrave his name on it when he receives the gift.

Gavin brushes the body of the plane with a finger pad. He suddenly releases a muffled chuckle, then reaches out to draw me into his arms.

His voice enters my ear, mingling with the rustling of leaves outside the window. It’s very soft, and very close by.

Gavin: If 14 year old Gavin received this gift, he’d have definitely remembered to say thank you on that day.

I wrap my arms around his waist, feeling our overlapping breaths in this moment. After a long time passes, I speak up.

MC: Each time I celebrated my birthday when I was small, I always loved to make many wishes.

MC: Thinking back, many of those wishes were really childish and even greedy.

MC: After growing up, I experienced many regrets, and faced many situations where I had to compromise and give up.

MC: Gradually, my birthday wishes became smaller and simpler. It’s as if I no longer had the same courage as before.

MC: But you’re different. No matter what I want, you’ve always been willing to fulfil them all.

MC: You made me realise that if I’m properly loved by someone, my wishes can be fulfilled no matter how childish they are.

MC: So no matter what Little Gav’s wishes are, I want to fulfil them for him.

Gavin embraces me, and he doesn’t say anything for a long time.

I pat him on the back gently, chuckling as I continue speaking.

MC: Okay, since Little Gav’s present has already been received, it’s time for yours.

I leave from Gavin’s arms, reaching out to cover his eyes. His eyelashes flutter in my palm, and it’s ticklish.

MC: You’re not allowed to open your eyes in secret.

With the greatest of care, I retrieve the honorary badge belonging to the Commander of STF from my breast pocket, putting it in front of his chest personally.

Gavin doesn’t open his eyes. Rays of sunlight outline his face and figure, immersing his entire self in brightness.

Sunlight lands on the badge, and the golden rays reflected off it give a brief summary of the storms and severe winters in this person’s past.

MC: You didn’t participate in the awards ceremony the previous time, so this medal couldn’t be passed to you. Now, I can finally hand it to its owner.

I observe how it looks on Gavin’s chest, and my voice is very soft.

MC: This is also the most important gift of today.

Gavin: The most important gift?

The entire room is filled with a tender glow. Lifting my head, I meet Gavin’s quiet gaze as he stares at me.

MC: Because I’m a witness to every single reason that resulted in you obtaining it.

I’ve personally witnessed how he has used his own body to block off all sorts of dangers, and can clearly remember how many injuries he has sustained.

But he also experiences pain. When he doesn’t sleep for several days and nights, he also gets fatigued.

It’s only today that I vaguely surmise that the reason why he never mentions anything is because since a very long time ago, he learnt that he shouldn’t anticipate any reciprocation from others.

That aviation badge which was forgotten in a corner had once sustained the weight of a youth’s pure gaze.

Afterwards, it was covered by a thick layer of dust. Nobody held it with a heart filled with anticipation ever again. Just like that, it vanished into the depths of time.

Later on, the youth grew up and decided on a correct flight path. He stepped on dark shadows, walking on the path of justice.

He saved so many people, but the only thing he didn’t know how to do was to allow himself to receive a little reciprocation.

Fortunately, I can now stand before him and take his hand. I can tell him that he has done very well, and that he’s the Gavin I like the most.

I wish to give him the most resolute response.

MC: Gavin, you’re worthy of all the honour. You’re worthy of all the recognition. I... am extremely convinced about this.

After hearing this, Gavin blinks slowly. He lifts his hand and touches the badge on his chest.

I lean forward slightly to take his hand. Looking directly into his eyes, I recite the words that I’ve drafted multiple times in my mind.

MC: There’s someone I’ve known for a really long time.

MC: I’ve seen his valiant and heroic side, and have also seen his fierce and decisive side.

MC: He always doesn’t care about how many injuries he sustains, but gets anxious and blames himself whenever I get hurt.

MC: He has brought me to see many magnificent sights, and enabled me to appreciate many stories that I wouldn’t have been able to experience on my own.

MC: He has handed his gentlest side to me without holding anything back. But he doesn’t ask for me to reciprocate in any way.

MC: I wish to keep looking at him like this.

And I also wish to... have him forever and ever.

A breeze from outside the window brings with it a floral fragrance. I watch as Gavin stares at me without blinking, his gaze blooming with tenderness.

Gavin: MC, I remember everything that we’ve experienced together. These experiences are so wonderful, and they’ve filled this space.

He points at his heart.

Gavin: Because this space is full, I can continue to walk on the path that I want to with resoluteness, and do the things that I want.

He pauses, his tone wilful.

Gavin: I’ve decided on today’s wish.

He draws closer to me, and I'm able to catch a whiff of his breath.

Gavin: MC, you are the one who gave 14 year old me a gift. You are also the one who grabbed the hands of both Gavin from the past and the Gavin of right now.

Gavin: You’re the person I was waiting for.

Gavin: So your wishes are also my wishes.

Gavin: From now onwards, keep looking at me.

A floral fragrance fills the room. I stare into his bright eyes, as feel as though I’m embracing the warmth of an entire midsummer.

✈️ Epilogue: here

✈️ Video call: here

✈️ Phone call: here

✈️ Moments and Text: here

✈️ Support the cafe by dropping by the tip jar!

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc gavin

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jayaury · 3 years

Text

Look with Your Hands

Another old short that people on my patreon voted for! Demons and warlocks are always fun, especially when both are so very cocky. But only one can ever win...

~ ~ ~

Liam Avex, warlock of the Eighth Ring, threw open the doors to his dungeon with a grin. It was all he could do not to dance down the steps, but instead take them with mocking gravity, descending into the pit at the center of the room where a cage of steel stood like ribs curving up from the floor.

There was a woman within the cell. She had an impossibly perfect figure, amply demonstrated by the fact her ‘clothes’ consisted of some leather straps bound across her curves. Her skin was a deep red, her bat-like wings cramped about her shoulders by the cage, her horns curling up before a mane of black hair. Liam’s eyes lingered on her firm, large breasts and the soft curves of her rump, thrown into sharp relief by fluttering torches on the walls. He brazenly ogled his captive, his smile widening at actually seeing his accursed rival behind bars. He was going to have so much fun!

“Well well well,” Liam said, arms clasped behind his back and cloak fanning about him impressively as he eyed the figure in the cage. “At last. Janine, Demoness of the Lash, mistress of the Tower of Ecstasy, and now, my prisoner.”

“Am I?” Janine said with an arch of a flawless brow.

“Of course you are!” Liam scoffed, gesturing grandly at the cage. “This device prevents you from casting any spell beyond its confines. Go ahead! Drop a fireball at me. All you’ll do is roast that pretty flesh of yours. You’ve evaded me before, slut. But at last you’re mine. And you’ll not escape me! Now, you will tell me all the secrets of your realm, or I promise you, my dear, I will drag them from your tongue with hot pokers!”

Janine ran her eyes over the dark steel of the cage. Her eyes came to rest on him once more and she sighed. “Yes,” the succubus said. “It seems you have me, Liam.”

“Lord Liam,” he corrected. “I think it high time you begin to use my title.”

“Too true, Lord Liam. Forgive me. I suppose now you’ll use my body for your own pleasures as well.”

“Ha!” Liam barked. “As lovely as you are, my dear, you’ll not be leaving that cage!”

“Oh? Then… you don’t intend to enjoy the feel of my breasts?” she asked, cupping those plump orbs, gently lifting them, the rings that pierced her nipples jangling.

Liam watched them, smirking. “Hmph! No need.”

“Not even to kiss them, my lord? Surely I am your slave now?”

“You’ll not trick me like that,” Liam said as he watched her fondle her breasts. “I’m too clever by half to even think of releasing you.”

“Of course you are, my lord,” Janine said, her voice softening. Soft as those big red breasts as she fondled them. Squeezed them. Bounced them in her hands. “Much too smart for a poor demoness like me. I hadn’t a prayer of defeating you.”

“No,” Liam said, shifting as his cock thickened against his pants. “No, you didn’t. Those years of you eluding me… it’s all come to this.”

“It has, my lord. This is your triumph.”

“Yes. It is.” Liam blinked, shook his head and glanced at her face. “You’re awfully calm about this.”

“I have accepted my fate,” Janine sighed, and Liam’s eyes were drawn back down to her shapely breasts as she continued to mold them in her hands. Gods, but to fill his palms with those orbs… “I was much too foolish to think I could best you, my lord. Your triumph was inevitable.”

“Inevitable,” Liam agreed, nodding slowly.

“Will you not celebrate? Use me for your pleasure?”

“Ha! You wish I’d… I’d do that. Let you out of that cage…”

“Of course, my lord. But you’re far too smart for that. You’re not some brainless mortal easily tricked. You know I cannot cast a spell on you from within this cage. So, it should be okay to… touch yourself a little.”

“Touch?” Liam said, watching her breasts sway. He sucked in a breath as he felt his hand stroke the bulge of his pants. “Ooooh…”

“Of course, my lord. For you have trapped me. Why let your success wait? Why not use my body with your eyes? Stroke yourself with your hand while I’m at your mercy.”

“Yesssss,” Liam hissed as he ran his finger up and down his bulge, feeling it thicken further in his pants. He licked his lips, and after all, what was the harm? He had her. Captured her. She was his. All his…

“Just like that, my lord,” Janine said, her voice so soft. Almost a hum that seemed to thrum up his cock as he undid the front of his pants, letting his cock pop into the open. “Oh my. If I knew what an impressive specimen you were, I would have surrendered ages ago. Your cock is so big, my lord. So mighty.”

“Yessss,” Liam groaned as his fingers engulfed his manhood. As he began to slowly pump.

“In fact, my lord,” Janine continued, lifting her breasts, dropping them, bouncing them, squeezing them, rubbing them together as if his cock were between them. “In fact, I think it almost equals your intelligence. So well endowed in wisdom and manhood. So potent. So virile. So smart.”

“Yes,” Liam panted, grinning, his eyes glued to her breasts, only to be caught by her hips as they began to sway side to side, her tail flicking behind her, teasing like a beckoning hand.

“Why, I bet you put all your power into that cock. All your thoughts and mind fill it fit to bursting. Such big thoughts. Big, swirling thoughts. My lord always thinks with his cock. His big, powerful cock. My lord always obeys his cock. And his cock is so hard now. Isn’t it, my lord?”

“Yessss!” Liam groaned, frantically pumping his shaft, fairly drooling over her body. Why not? She was helpless. Helpless before him. Before his cock. He was so smart and she was so dumb.

“Your cock is far too smart to be tricked, my lord. You simply must listen to it. Let it tell you what to do. That’s the only way forward. Only way to power is to obey your cock. And your cock so wants to obey my big… bouncy… breasts…”

Liam’s whole body twitched as his hand pumped his cock. His mind was awhirl as he watched her breasts bounce. He found himself nodding. Was he nodding? Sure, why not. Why not listen to her? Her breasts were so big. So soft…

“Oh my lord, I think I know what your cock wants to do. I think it wants to cum. I think it wants to cum all your silly thoughts out. Because if you think with your cock, and your cock tells you to obey my breasts, you must do so. Mustn’t you, my lord?”

“Yes,” Liam gasped. “Yes. Obey… obey cock… obey breasts… obey… obey…”

“My lord! How clever of you to listen so closely to your cock. To let it obey my big breasts. My swinging hips. But I think you don’t want to be clever. Because only dumb cocks get to go between my big breasts. My lord, are you perhaps wanting to be a dumb cock bimbo?”

“Yes!” Liam cried, the word escaping him in a rush. He wanted that! He wanted it so bad. He needed it so much! “Yes! Want to cum… gotta cum… cum… cum bimbo cock. Cock have to… to cum dumb cock. Dumb…”

“Then cum, my lord. Cum those brains out. Cum for my breasts. Cum for my hips. Cum for mistress. Cum! Cum!”

“Nyaaaaaaa!” Liam howled as he came, the pleasure so intense it was like nothing he’d known before. His mind went white, spurted out from his cock, splattering on the floor of the dungeon and bars of the cage. The warlock whimpered, sagging where he stood, as if all the strength had gone from him.

“What a good boy.”

Into the emptiness of his post orgasmic bliss rushed those words. He shuddered, lifting his head to the succubus. To her. Radiant. Confident. To her big, soft breasts just tantalizingly out of reach.

“Open the cage, pet,”

His hands seemed to move on their own, a mechanical gesture made frantic by his need to obey. With a creak and a rumble, the spikes that made the cage opened like an iron flower, sinking into the floor even as Janine delicately stepped over their points. She swayed towards him, and Liam’s eyes were glued to the soft, rhythmic back and forth of her breasts.

The succubus smirked, pointed down. “Kneel.”

Liam obeyed.

Janine giggled, leaning forward and squeezing his cheeks in her hand. “Awww. What a good, dumb boy you are. You just couldn’t help but fall for my big tits, could you?”

“No mishtresh,” Liam squeaked out, his pupils fairly throbbing with love for the demoness.

“Of course not. And you thought you were so clever. But silly bimbo, you forgot! I may not be able to cast a spell on you, but I could certainly cast one on myself. And you were just so eager to watch my big hypnotits, weren’t you?”

Liam nodded as eagerly as he could with his face pinched in her hand. “Yesh mishtresh! Love your breashtsh! Love them. Good bimbosh obey!”

“That they do. And cum all their silly brains out. What little they had, anyway. And now that you’ve had your fun,” she added, straightening and grabbing his head, shoving it into the delta of her thighs. “It’s my turn!”

Liam moaned, his tongue drawn out, adoringly running up the velvet sweetness of her pussy. His tastebuds sang with the powerful flavour of mistress. That wonderful taste. Already he could feel his silly bimbo cock hardening again as he adored her cunny.

“Mmm. Good slave,” Janine moaned as she rode her new toy’s face. “Good bimbo. I think we’re going to have so… much… fun…”

Liam agreed, and as he resumed pumping his dumb cock, he knew that mistress would make it a joy forever and ever.

#succubi #hypnotism #mind control #hypnotits #edge play #brainwashing

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7demonhoes · 3 years

Text

The devildom and hell are not the same part 2

This may have taken forever but I’m actually super proud of it. If you’re interested, I put a link to part 1 below. Also I take requests!!

Description: After giving into curiosity, MC has to deal with the consequences. They couldn’t leave the brothers be, not when they were clearly hiding something from their human. And now, with the demon’s secrets revealed, MC faces a dilemma that could cause them to lose the demon brothers forever.

Word count: 5,191

Warnings: Angst, body horror, mention of religion/hell. The demons act like actual demons.

Part 1

I kneel on the edge of the cavern that leads to the pits of Hell, throat raw from my terrified wail. Seven demons stare down at me, the sky beyond them tinged a cloudy red that resembles the blood being spilt far below.

The one that used to be Satan crouches down, moving as if to offer me a hand. It begins the motion. I stare at the arm; veins bulge from skin, its color a faint, sickly green. The hand reaching out towards me is huge, black claws the size of my fingers sharpened to a point, gore under the nails.

My eyes travel past the arm, looking towards the beast’s bare chest. Skin is stretched over muscle, pulled so tightly that it appears as if it will tear and bleed if it is stretched too far. A long, rigid tail snakes around the demon’s leg, swishing excitedly against a pair of bent knees. The tail travels up the entire length of the monster’s back, connecting to two obsidian horns at either side of the monster’s head.

The creature’s facial features are warped beyond recognition into a look of rage. Tight skin stretches over a small nose, dry lips forming a silent howl of anger. The mouth is horrible, its short, sharp teeth gleaming against pale green skin. Rows of teeth line the monster’s throat, reaching far back into the cavernous mouth.

Its eyes are blue-green, and they beg me for forgiveness. The beast whispers my name in Satan’s voice, far too soft to be coming from a hole filled with so many teeth.

“No,” I whisper, because it’s the only thing I can think.

“Why did you come?” The thing pretending to be Levi unhinges its jaw to speak, a forked tongue drooping from its mouth and slithering towards me.

“You’re so afraid,” another voice buzzes, “You’re making me even hungrier.”

“You betrayed us.” Mammon’s voice sounds pained. I can’t bring myself to look in the voice’s direction. When I looked at the figure before, I caught a glimpse of melted gold and burnt skin. “We loved you, you know.”

I could hear the meaning in those words. But not anymore. “Please,” I beg, because it’s the only thing I can do.

“Do not speak like them,” Lucifer rumbles, talons gesturing dismissively towards the Pit.

I stare at the ground, concentrating on the dirt sifting through my clenched fingers. I can’t think while I stare at them. The screams of the tortured souls get louder if I look into their eyes.

I remember the forcefield. I slowly crawl backwards. I need to get away from this place. I need to get away from-

A frail, thin hand with fine black hair rests on my own. If I wasn’t so afraid, I think I would reel back in disgust. “Running away?” Belgaphor whispers.

"I-" my voice breaks as the hand wraps around my wrist and pulls me forward. I stumble to my feet, barreling into hard muscle.

"Honey," Asmosdeus's sweet voice sounds sickly and thick. "You should have done what you were told."

I shiver against him, my arms wrapped around my chest. I stare down at his feet. A clawed hand gently touches the bottom of my chin.

"Don't," I whisper.

The demon ignores my request, forcing my eyes to travel up towards its face. Small, writhing bodies are pressed against the monster's skin, their nude forms stroking the demon.

When I look at the horror's face, the animal that stole Asmo's voice smiles at me. Its mouth splits open at the middle of the bottom lip, revealing a barbed tongue and curved canines.

Its hooded eyes reveal no emotion. Red makeup swirls around the demon's face, highlighting its elegant features. Four giant wings wrap around me, impossibly smooth to the touch.

I watch as it presses a clawed finger to its lips. "I'm sorry, baby," it coos, "but it appears that we have some things to discuss with you."

"...What?" I ask, attempting to reel backwards as the beast reaches for me. The demon places his finger on my tongue before pulling me in an embrace.

I feel a hand on the back of my head, softly stroking my hair. "Sleep," Belgaphore commands.

My vision blurs, my body starting to feel warm and calm. I find it impossible to move, but I'm too tired to care.

As my vision grows black, I hear the beating of wings and feel the soft caress of hot air against my skin.

I wake up in a dim room. Candlelight flickers across the stone walls and floor. Harsh shadow is cast across the other side of the room, so thick that I can't make out what might be lurking inside. Thankfully, I can no longer hear the screams of the damned.

I try to move my arm. To my horror, it pulls against a metal cuff. I look down to realize that I'm strapped to a metal chair by my wrists and ankles. I stiffen, looking wildly at my surroundings. I have to get out of here. What are they going to do to me? Are they going to keep me in Hell, now that I've learned what they are?

I can't help myself. I let out a whimper. I immediately hear rustling from the other half of the room. Glowing, red eyes stare at me from the darkness.

"Human," Lucifer's voice is rough. "I told you this was not information to be privy of." he steps into the candlelight, and I struggle against the chains. "And yet," he says, staring down at me with hunger, "I should have known that you would have meddled either way."

I stare at the figure in front of me. Its-his?- skin moves like ruffling feathers, never standing still. Hands and feet are replaced with the talons of a bird, the skin dry and black. The wings on the creature's back are even larger and more impressive than usual, crumpled slightly so they can fit in the cramped room. Black feathers shine an iridescent purple whenever candlelight flickers across them. Feathers travel from the wings, up the shoulders, and climb towards the demon's face, stopping at the jawline.

Lucifer's facial features are more or less the same. His cheekbones are sharper, his eyes brighter, and his lips are a shiny black. When the demon speaks, I see neat rows of fangs.

"Are you afraid?" The demon asks.

I remember when he almost attacked me in the common room. "Do you want me to be?"

Lucifer takes another step forward and crouches down, his face inches from mine. When I look into his eyes, I see the faces of those he has tortured. "Yes," he whispers.

I feel my heartbeat in my throat. "Why?" My voice is hoarse.

"It is my nature. And it is yours to be terrified of me." He gestures towards his body. "Especially when I look like this."

"Lucifer," I can't look into his eyes anymore. I stare at my lap, blinking away tears. "What is going to happen to me?"

"We will answer your questions. All of them."

"And then?"

He swallows. I glance at him to see his eyes on me. They're soft; if I look past the souls within them, I can see his sadness. "And then we will make you forget."

"Hell?" I guess that wouldn't be so bad. If I just woke up back in the House of Lamentation without any idea of what happened, it would probably be for the-

"No," Lucifer cuts off my thoughts. "You will forget your time in the Devildom."

If I wasn't sitting down, I think I would fall over. "Please don't." I can't forget this place. I can't forget them.

"It has already been decided." Lucifer stands and heads towards the shadows. "I will come back when it is time to say goodbye." He turns to look at me, opens his mouth, closes it with a shake of the head, and drifts away.

I shudder in a mixture of relief and despair when I no longer feel his presence. This place is horrible. I need to get out of here. But what would that do? They would find me, and they would bring me back.

And then they would say goodbye.

Maybe it's for the best. After everything I've seen… If I don't forget, what would become of my sanity? If I look at the demons in their human forms, will I ever be able to see them as the men I loved again?

I stare at the floor, feeling a coil tighten around my heart. Are the brothers truly that different? They've been coming to this place for more time than I can fathom.

And yet, those are human souls they are torturing. Do they ever look at me and think about hurting me? How much do they have to fight against their instincts to not attack me while I sleep?

But they never have. Does that knowledge by itself allow me to trust them?

It's not like I have a choice. They're taking away my memories of this place no matter what I do.

Someone coughs. I look up to see Beelzebub and Belgaphore. They stand huddled in shadow, looking at anything but me.

I eye them wearily, trying not to look away. Belphie looks even more exhausted than usual, the bags lining his eyes a deep shade of gray. His skin is covered in fine hair and rot, maggots crawling around his skin. Beel glances at the grubs, his stomach growling loudly.

"Does it hurt?" I ask.

Belphie raises an eyebrow. "Does what hurt?" His voice sounds sickly. It makes me want to close my eyes and never open them again.

"Your skin."

He shrugs. "You get used to the pain."

I stare at Beel. His eyes look like those of a fly's, each bulb moving in multiple directions. His mouth is half open, drool spilling from his lips. Giant teeth poke holes into his skin, the edges of the white points soaked in blood. His wings buzz each time they quiver.

"We're here to answer some questions." Beel says, "If you want to know anything."

I pause, thinking. It would be a waste to not ask questions, even though the action seems pointless when I know that I won't remember their answers. Still, the longer I drag this out…

Am I really okay with saying goodbye?

"Why do you look like that?" I start, my stomach rolling.

"We naturally shift into our True Forms when in Hell," Beelzebub says. "It's hard to change if we're just in the Devildom, unless we're incredibly angry or we haven't…. come here in a while. The only person who can shift whenever they want is Diavolo"

I swallow, gripping against the chair. "Those people," I whisper hoarsely, "Do they deserve it?"

"People are brought here for different reasons. The book humans use for their religion has some truth in it, some lies."

"For example?"

Belphie sighs. "Killing for safety or self defense doesn't get you thrown down here, but destroying lives for your own well-being does. People never come here based on their sexuality or gender. Stuff like that."

"What about… people who make pacts?"

"Only if you offer your soul. And even those humans don't necessarily end up in Hell."

I frown, thinking. "What will happen to my pacts with you? Once I forget?"

Beel winces. "They won't disappear, but since you won't remember how to use them, the marks will never flare up and show themselves."

A desperate, sad fear twists in my gut. "I don't want to forget you." My voice breaks as I speak, my eyesight becoming blurry.

One of the twins growls. I look up to see Belphie right above me, his lips grinding in an angry snarl. "This is your fault," he rumbles. "If you never asked questions, if you never tracked us…" He kneels down, placing his head on my knees. "Were we that untrustworthy? Was it me?"

"Belphie," I sigh, trying to reach out to him despite the chains. "I was selfish. It was all my fault."

"Can't you stay here instead? What if you just never left? You could live here, with us, and I wouldn't have to-"

Beel walks over and rests a hand on Belphie's head. "Humans can't stay here for their entire lives. It's too dangerous." Beel sighs, walking behind my chair to wrap his arms around me. He's careful to hide his claws. "But it doesn't mean we can't be sad."

My lip quivers. I'm about to speak when Belphie cuts me off. "I can't do this. I can't look at you and know that in a few hours you wouldn't recognize me. I'll- I'll see you later." He gets up, grabs Beel, and drags him out of the room. Before he's engulfed in shadow, Beel reaches out for me.

I desperately try to reach back, but my wrists clang at their restraints.

I try to fight against the sadness in my gut. What have I done? I can't lose them. Not after all this time.

Before I can second guess myself, I concentrate, bringing the images of Leviathan and Mammon into my head. I imagine all of their forms and desperately force myself to think of each one as the same person.

I close my eyes. "Avatars of Greed and Envy," I speak, feeling the sigils against my palms and over the back of my neck tingle as they flare, "I summon thee as my guides. Be my strength." The sigils burn as I call out to the demons, feeling a familiar pull against my chest. I concentrate on that pull and imagine myself reeling it in.

The ground beneath my feet rumbles. I hear a whoosh and a flutter of wings. When I open my eyes, I find Levi and Mammon staring at me worriedly.

"Why did you summon us?" Mammon asks.

I smile sadly. "I still have questions. And I wanted to do it one last time."

Mammon winces, but doesn't speak. He tries to make him look as small as possible as I study him.

The Avatar of Greed is an impressive, terrifying sight. His blue eyes shine against his dark skin. His body and horns are adorned with jewels, the edges of the golden pieces melting into his skin. His hands are covered in melted gold, his fingers long and slender and decorated with beautiful rings. Black feathers cover parts of his chest and groin, the edge of them dipped in gold.

Burned skin presses against the gold, painful-looking blisters contrasting against the beautiful color of his skin. If Mammon is in pain, he shows no signs of it.

The tips of his bat-like wings are the same. One side of his wings brushes against the stone wall and leaves behind a smooth cut.

I turn my eyes towards Levi, and he shudders. "Don't look at me," he hisses, "I can't let you see me like this."

"Levi," I whisper, "Can you undo my restraints?"

"Won't you run?"

I shake my head. "I won't run away from any of you, ever. I promise." I put power into the words, feeling each of the seven sigils flare. The brothers in front of me gasp as they feel the power of the pacts within them.

Levi steps forward, gingerly reaching down to the cuffs at my ankles. When he moves to undo my wrists, he turns his head to hide his face.

His body is covered in purple scales. His arms and legs are disproportionately long compared to the rest of his body. His claws aren't as long as some of his brother's, but his fangs are the most impressive.

His mouth is huge, his jaw hanging open each time he speaks. Fangs dipped in poison reach towards his bottom lip, a forked tongue occasionally tasting the air. His eyes resemble a snake's, his extra eyelids blinking as he shies away.

Once he's released me from my restraints I rub at my wrists. I slowly stand up, barely coming up to Levi's chest. "Did you get taller?"

"We all do, in this form." He steps away from me.

"It's okay," I say. "Please don't hide. I want to be brave, so that your last memory of me is a good one."

I can tell how much they care through their words and actions. I could never hate them for what they are. They've shown me so much kindness and love.

I wonder if I'll know that something is missing? I've never been appreciated this much in my entire life. Will I feel a void in my heart once I wake up without these memories?

Before Levi or I can realize what I'm doing, I reach out and grab his hand. He jumps as I stroke his claws with a finger, his scales surprisingly smooth. Levi barely moves as I entwine our fingers together.

"Show me," I look at Mammon. He stares where my skin touches Levi's, a mixture of hopefulness and need plastered on his face. "I want to see all of it."

He stiffens, realizing what I'm asking. "No."

"Please," I take another step closer to Levi. I don't even think he's breathing. "I want to truly accept you all. I want you to know that I understand why you kept this from me, and that even once I forget you that I will never stop loving you."

He opens his mouth, closes it, and then shakily wipes at his eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He nods before gesturing towards the shadows. Levi and I follow him, still holding hands.

I'm completely blind for a few seconds as we walk through the murky black. As the shadows around me dissipate, the sound of tormented souls reach my ears once more.

We stand on the other side of the pit. I look behind me to see a wall of shadow climbing towards the sky. "That wasn't there before," I mutter.

"Welcome to Hell." Mammon shrugs.

"What's it like?"

"There's eight layers." Levi points down to the pit. I glance at it, trying to put on a brave face. "Each one of us controls a layer, but the lesser demons are the ones who do most of the work. We go once a week or so to quell some of our more… natural instincts."

"Eight layers? But there's seven of you."

"The first layer is the pathway to the layer each soul will spend eternity in. The people you see now are those who have just died."

"And every demon needs to come here."

"Yes," Levi nods. "For some, it's almost like a job. Demons who have roles at other places in the Devildom only come here occasionally."

I catch Mammon's apprehensive stare. He swallows. "Aren't you afraid?"

I look down at the black dirt. "Yes. But the fear of Hell seems unimportant when I am so much more afraid of using all of you."

Levi sucks in a breath. "I can't believe you." He looks down at himself. "How could you see me like this and not be disgusted?"

"It's hard." I won't lie to them-- it feels like my instincts are screaming at me to run and hide. "But I know that you would never hurt me."

"But we have!" Levi shudders, "Don't you remember? We have never been fully able to control ourselves!" He takes his hand from my grasp, instead clenching them into fists. "Every time," he growls, "Every time we have ever hurt you it was because we had procrastinated coming here. And we never learned our lesson."

He's shaking, his eyes wide. "And now, you're gone. The first person we've truly cared about and you're being taken away-"

I crash into him, arms wrapping around his torso. He stiffens, hands remaining rigid at his side. The air beside me suddenly becomes hot as Mammon comes closer, coming as close to me as he can without burning me.

"I'm sorry," I sob into Levi's scales. "I'm so sorry. I love you all so much. I-I don't want to lose you."

Mammon tilts his head towards the sky and bellows, a ferocious roar emptying into the air and causing the ash beneath my feet to quake. He snarls, his feathers rippling. "Fuck this," he snaps. "Fuck Hell, fuck the rules. I'm not losing you." His blue eyes meet mine, flames burning within. "We're not showing you Hell. We're getting ya out of this place."

Levi bristles. "But where can we take them?"

I gasp. "Purgatory Hall. Solomon has a trap there. I'll be stuck in a forcefield, and only he can get me out. We'll be able to negotiate."

Mammon nods. "Let's go." He takes to the sky, giant wings flapping impressively.

Levi effortlessly picks me up, cradling me gently against his chest. "Hold on," he says. I tighten my grip around him as he takes off at an impossibly fast speed, the world blurring around me as he sprints around the Pitt and towards the forcefield back to the Devildom.

As we pass through the forcefield, he doesn't slow even as he shrinks in size and his scales recede. He continues to run as he returns to his normal demon form, his face a mask of concentration.

Mammon continues to fly above us, keeping pace with Levi-

A giant, terrifying figure in the sky flies toward him. They both go toppling to the ground in a flurry of wings and roars.

"Shit!" Levi yells, forcing himself to go faster.

"What was that?" I have to scream to hear my voice over the howling wind.

"Diavolo! He must know we're trying to help you!"

I swallow down a thick ball of anxiety. He wanted to kill Belphie for not following his orders when it came to the exchange program; what will he do to Mammon for letting me remember Hell?

Once we reach Purgatory Hall, Levi doesn't slow as we reach the door. He tightens his hold around me as he rams into the door with his shoulder. The wood splinters and falls beneath his weight.

Something screams behind us. Levi swears, heading towards Solomon's room. Just as we reach the hallway, the windows lining the walls all shatter at once.

Levi curls around me and jumps, hitting the ground and rolling as glass embeds itself into his skin. He sucks in a pained breath, releasing me and throwing me towards Solomon's door.

I scramble to my hands and knees and take a few steps forward before looking back. Levi's already standing, his arms spread wide to leave as little of an opening to reach me as possible.

And beyond him…. Is Diavolo in his True Form. He stands at a staggering seven feet, each limb defined with bulging muscle. His wings are so large that the edges poke past the broken windows, the stiff leather riddled with glass. His arms lay tensely at his sides, claws as big as my hand covered in a mixture of blood and strips of dark skin.

I shudder, thinking of Mammon and asking every god I know to let him be okay.

Diavolo snarls, his mouth stretching from ear to ear. A long, pointed tongue is covered with blood, red drool spilling from his horrible mouth. His eyes glow against black eye sockets.

And his skin…. Screaming faces press themselves against it as if trying to escape. The forms convulse against his entire body, hands reaching out and pressing against veined skin in a mixture of desperation and hopelessness.

Diavolo screams, and I cover my ears with a pained gasp as the walls around me shake. Levi steadies himself against the towering beast before him.

"Run!" Levi shouts just as Diavolo charges. I force myself to turn away and spring for Solomon's door as the sound of pained grunts and tearing echoes from behind me. I open the door and dive into the threshold of the room as something hot and wet erupts at my ankle.

I fall into the room and whirl around, staring at the open door as I lay sprawled out on the floor.

Diavolo bangs against the forcefield, his face a mask of rage. I cower beneath him, a small whimper bubbling from my throat.

I look past his hulking form to see Levi crumpled against a wall, his body covered in deep lacerations. I stare at him in shock, thinking the worst.

He coughs, opening an eye to look at me. He smiles when he sees me in Solomon's room before closing his eyes. His chest rises and falls.

I force myself to look at my ankle. The skin is shredded in three different places. I wince, just now feeling the pain as I stare at the wound. I quickly rip a part of my shirt and tie it around my ankle, gritting my teeth through the sharp needles of hurt.

A flurry of wings takes my attention away from my useless ankle. Diavolo turns as the rest of the demon brothers enter the hallway through the shattered windows.

Lucifer carries a bloodied heap in his arms. His eyes glow with an anger so intense I find myself scooting away despite the forcefield between us. He gently sets Mammon down next to Levi, his cold eyes softening as he looks at his brothers.

His eyes drift towards me, then towards my bandaged ankle. He glances at Diavolo's bloodied claws, then looks back at his unconcioUs brothers.

He faces Diavolo. His skin ripples, and with a sudden cry of rage he shifts into his True Form, his eyes almost level with Diavolo's.

A rumbling voice sounds from Diavolo's throat, more growls than words, "How dare you threaten me!"

Lucifer bares his teeth. "You laid a hand on my brothers. You laid a hand on my human."

"They broke the rules! They must face the consequences." Diavolo steps forward threateningly, but Lucifer holds his ground. "Bring Solomon here at once to break the spell."

"No." Lucifer shakes his head defiantly. "You will not harm anyone else."

Satan puts a hand on his shoulder. His skin stretches and pulls as he changes as well. Each brother steps closer to Lucifer, their eyes ablaze as they stand before their king. To protect their brothers.

To protect me.

I can't leave them.

"You cannot defy me!" Diavolo roars.

"No," a cunning smile warps itself on Lucifer's face, "but they can force us." He points a claw at me.

Diavolo gasps and turns to me, smashing against the forcefield with all of us weight. I focus on the brothers instead as they wait. With a grunt of effort, I get to my feet. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath.

I picture the brothers in my head, bringing my favorite memories of them to my mind. I pour everything I have felt over the past few hours-- the fear, the despair, the desperation…

And the love. I imagine golden love wrapping around their bodies and mine, entwining us forever; an unbreakable bond that cannot be forgotten.

I don't have to say the words. I feel all seven pacts burning on my skin, their colors washing me in a hue of seven different colors.

I look at Mammon and Levi. "Heal," I command. Their eyes fly open, skin closing around their myriad of wounds. "Change," I tell them, and their figures warp, the beautiful monster's falling behind Lucifer.

Diavolo screams, whirling around to face the brothers. He charges, raising a clawed hand towards Lucifer.

"Protect yourselves!" I demand, "And don't let me leave you!"

Lucifer catches Diavolo's raised hand. Faster than I can blink, the brothers hold Diavolo down. He tries to get loose and tear away from them, but he's no match for the seven of them.

"This is treason." His voice is full of malice.

"There has to be another way," Lucifer pleads. "There has to be a way to ensure that they don't forget."

"It's impossible." Diavolo shakes his head. He blinks, the rage on his face turning to a look of pensiveness. "Only damned souls and demons are able to witness Hell."

Satan stiffens. "What if-"

Belgaphore gasps. "It could be possible."

Lucifer frowns. "I doubt they'd want that."

Diavolo tilts his head to the side, his eyes turning towards my direction. "I suppose it wouldn't make the exchange program a complete failure." He takes a deep breath, his body shrinking in size until he's in his human form. He crosses his arms, staring at me.

The brothers follow suit, each of them shaking off their demon forms. I watch them, confused. "What are you talking about?"

Diavolo takes a step forward. His eyes no longer hold any anger. "You have two options," he says. "Either you can forget this place and live the rest of your days as a human…"

He pauses. I try to read the brother's faces for a clue, but the only expressions on their faces are those mixed with anxiety and hope.

Diavolo continues, "...or you can live in the Devildom for the rest of eternity. As a demon."

My heart skips a beat. I could be here. Forever, with the brothers.

As a demon.

"H-how?"

"With the correct rituals, it's quite an easy process. But if you do this, you will forever be changed. The human realm will no longer belong to you." Diavolo narrows his eyes. "You are trapped. You have no other choice."

I look at Levi and Mammon, who risked their lives to get me here. Levi shrugs, understanding the meaning of my gaze. "We gave you a way out. Now it's up to you to choose."

I stare at the demons in front of me, picturing their true forms. Do I really want to leave the human world behind? Would I be prepared to give it all up?

And what about my job as a demon? I would have to do unspeakable things…

And yet… could I stand to lose what I have here? I have never felt so loved, so complete until I came here.

I close my eyes. And I feel the decision in my bones.

"I won't forget you," I say.

The brother's eyes go wide, but Diavolo simply nods. Something shuffles from the back of the room. I turn to see Solomon materialize from a corner.

"What. The. Hell." I mutter, staring at the grinning wizard.

"Sup," he replies. He shuffles to his desk, pulling out a small container. He opens it before kneeling before my injured ankle, gingerly peeling off my makeshift bandage. He rubs some sort of cream on it, and the wound heals within seconds. He stands up with a wink, waving a hand in the direction of his doorway. The forcefield dissolves.

"Let's make a pact," he smiles.

I sigh, standing up and squaring my shoulders. Lucifer extends a hand out towards me. I take it. Each brother turns and begins to walk.

I leave my humanity at the door, following the loves of my life into the eternally dark sky of the Devildom.

#thank you so much for reading!#obey me #obey me fic #shall we date #obey me angst

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Secrets ~ 6

Warnings: noncon sexual acts later in series; light touching.

This is dark!Bucky and dark!Steve and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Notes:

Tomorrow will be a 12 hour day for me. Working on Xmas but oh well. I got this done on my one day off and I hope I survive the next week coming up!

I love you all, I thank you for your patience and feedback as always! Please don’t shy away in the comments, reblogs, etc.

Your time at Regia passed quickly and slowly all at once. You were woken most days abruptly by Barnes pounding on your door or standing over you with his smug half-grin. Then you dressed in clothes you reviled and ate a breakfast you couldn’t enjoy for all the expectation of your intake. You were allowed some recreation though that was often reading bland historical texts or walks in the garden with your keeper.

Your least favourite part of each day were your dance lessons. You had to relearn how to walk, talk, look, and eat, but you had never had much rhythm. Besides, being so close to Barnes with him commenting on your every misstep was hardly fun. He delighted in every mistake you made, eager to reproach you for each, and was easily amused by Priscilla’s stick smacking across your legs, back, and ass.

You counted eleven days as you began to truly fledge. You were tired, annoyed, and to be honest, hungry. That day, you beat Barnes’ early disturbance. You sat, in a coral blouse and a pleated grey skirted, with the lowest pair of heels in the closet. He greeted you almost with approval and that made your want to tear the blouse and shred it.

You didn’t. You followed him downstairs to your usual miserable meal. When you finished, he escorted you back up the wide staircase to the hall of mirrors. You hated the room. It gave you an all to inclusive view of your ridiculous attire. You didn’t look like you. Sure, you were one for a scholarly look but this wasn’t really that. This was a pompous, over-stylised look which would go well only with a silver spoon on your tongue.

A man waited in the hall of mirrors, a woman too. The man was slender and tall and his long fingers were twined together as he waited emotionlessly. He bowed as you entered and recited a dull ‘your highness’. The woman was squat and stuffed into a patterned wrap dress spotted with bright reds, pinks, and oranges. She was more jovial as her voice chimed with the same recitation.

“Lester, Deanna,” Barnes announced, “My apologies for the delay. I trust you are ready.”

“Darling, your highness,” The stout woman swayed over to you, “Come with me.”

“Huh,” you looked at Barnes and he smiled as he gestured you forward.

“Just go,” he ordered, “She doesn’t look like much but she’s not one for defiance.”

You sighed and let the woman usher you over to the attached room. The racks of dresses were gone but long garment bangs had been hung from a hook along the opposite wall. The door snapped shut behind you and Deanna flitted around you, like an elephant in heels, and turned you to face her.

“Oh, love, you are gorg,” she chimed in a peculiar accent, “I think however Lord Barnes was a bit off on your measurements,” she grasped your waist, “Lovely, lovely.”

“I hate to be a bitch but what the hell is going on?” You asked.

She blinked and laughed. She drew away and pushed her dark curls back as they burst forth from the jeweled pin behind her head. “Oh dear, you are fiery. The king will… like that. I think.”

She didn’t sound convincing as she spun away and marched over to the hook and took down the first bag. She unzipped it as she neared and turned it to reveal the contents. A white lacy dress with thin straps and a scalloped hem around the neckline. The bodice was fitted and the skirt flared out into a princess silhouette. You knitted your brow as you stared at it.

“Your wedding dress,” she sang. “Oh, it will surely look splendid on you, darling. Your highness.”

She stripped the bag away and was careful not to let the skirts touch the floor as she held it aloft and folded the swaths of fabric over her arm. She held it out to her as she beamed at you.

“So… I don’t get to choose?” You wondered. You didn’t care very much but you hated that all your decisions were made for you.

“Oh, but this was refashioned from the former queen’s dress. It is a tradition in Astrania. In fact some of this would date back centuries!” She explained, “Of course we do update the style.”

You chewed on your lip and shrugged. “Let’s just get this over with,” you muttered.

You felt defeated as you couldn’t help but fixate on the white gown. It was like you were wrapping yourself in a flag of surrender. You’d wave your skirts and let yourself be taken. You undressed and stepped into the dress as she opened it for you. She pulled the straps over your arms and zipped it up.

“Rather, it fits you well,” she came around as she pinched at the fabric and smoothed out the seams. She wasn’t wrong, though it felt rather constricting. “Well, come on. Lester needs to do his figures. He’s always the better eye for this. I just sew.”

She took your hand as you lifted your skirts with your other. You let her guide you back out to the hall of mirrors and you avoided looking around you. You couldn’t look at Barnes either as you sensed him watching you. You blurred your vision as you lifted your head and the tall man, Lester, walked around you. He began to pin little pieces in place and Deanna pulled out a small notepad as she began to jot with a stubbed pencil.

“Hmm,” Barnes appeared before you and your vision cleared, “Not bad…” He brushed the lace with his fingers and traced the curve of your waist with his hands, “However…” He lingered just below your chest, “You can’t show the entire kingdom your bra. You would do better to leave that behind on the day.”

“We can add some structure,” Lester offered evenly. “But our adjustments will be minor.”

Barnes reached over and tugged the skirts from your hand and fluffed them out around you. He rounded you and gripped your shoulders. You saw yourself in the mirrored wall and tried not to show your surprise. It wasn’t awful but you still didn’t like it.

“We have three days left. You have the other dress?” He asked.

“We have options,” Deanna said, “We were uncertain if the king would prefer red or blue.”

“Let me see,” Barnes sidestepped her and went to the attached room.

Deanna glanced at you and waved you after him as she approached and gathered your skirts. She followed after you and your vigilant chaperone. She released the vast skirts and went to Barnes as he neared the hanging garment bags. She unzipped both and he tilted his head and tutted.

“Red,” he said, “I believe the king will be in blue.”

“Very well,” Deanna pulled the dress from the bag. “Now dear, let’s get you changed.”

Barnes turned back and neared you. He faced you and reached around you. He pushed the zipper down slowly and leaned in until his breath tickled your nose. “Three days.” He reminded you. He drew away and left you as the bodice fell slack. He closed the door behind him as Deanna replaced him.

“Darling, I think red will look marvelous on you. And the king in blue! He has the most amazing eyes. Oh, if I was younger… maybe, skinnier,” she giggled, “Well, should I even tell you? You’ve seen him. Ugh, handsome bugger, he is.”

“Mhmm,” you grumbled as you wiggled out of the gown, “What a tragedy it’d be if his outside was ugly too.”

👑

That night was as restless as any. You laid in bed for a time, tossing and turning. You tried to forget about the blinding white dress and the abhorrent red number that came after. And how time seemed to pass regardless of your fears or your desires. You felt helpless. You used to be in control of everything and now, you couldn’t control even yourself.

You sat up in a slat of moonlight. You weren’t going to sleep. Your frustration mounted the longer you squeezed your eyes shut and clawed and clutched for rest. You grunted and stood as the duvet fell away from your legs. The short silk nightie sent a chill up your spin as it fluttered around your thighs.

You crossed your arms and went to the window. The lawns were peaceful despite the anxiety within the palace. You turned away as the lush green rippling in the silver shadows only heightened your uneasiness. You took the blush coloured robe from the chair sat before the vanity and swathed yourself in it as you neared the door.

It was, to your surprise, unlocked. As strict a warden as Barnes was, you just assumed he would have locked you in. You let out a breath and stepped out into the hallway. The portraits of your predecessors, dead and dusty, watched you pass as you tiptoed along. The windows cast shapes around you as you went along and at times, you were certain you heard whispers.

You descended to the lower first floor and ventured down a wing never explored before. Your eyes were attune to the darkness but still played tricks as you crept along. You heard the distant, muffled, and quite possibly, imagined ripple of water. You smelled a pool, the sharp scent of chlorine. Your senses brought you to a door at the end of the corridor.

Frosted glass framed in heavy metal. You pressed against the slotted handle and the clasp slowly lifted. You inched inside as you peeked around the door. Broad shoulders, bare and thick with muscle, beneath a head of dark hair. You were shocked by the scars along Barnes’ left shoulder and the arm no longer in place below. You’d never even noticed the prosthetic now laid out with his clothes on a bench near the wall.

He shoved himself into the pool and the water swelled around him. You placed your feet carefully as you eased the door shut and neared the bench where his suit was folded neatly with his shoes, socks, belt, and tie. You bent closer as you admired the hand at the end of the prosthetic; you touched it curiously. It felt lifelike even as it sat limp.

“Convincing?” Bucky’s voice frightened you as you heard the water move around his body. You turned to face him as he brought his right arm over the edge of the pool. “Don’t worry. You can toss it around. I won’t feel a thing.”

You were speechless; embarrassed. You hadn’t meant to intrude upon him but your fatigue mixed with your confusion had goaded you on.

“Sorry, I… I couldn’t sleep.” You hugged yourself and swept back to the door. “I wasn’t meaning-- I shouldn’t have--”

“Just an arm.” He said as he pushed himself up and turned to display what was left of his arm, a scarred stub just below his shoulder. “Good thing I was born with two.”

“Barnes…” You backed up until you were against the door. “I should go.”

“Alright,” he pushed himself back and floated with his single arm outstretched. “I always found swimming helped… with sleep.” He said lazily. “Calming.”

You didn’t move. You only watched as he floated along in only his briefs. He was entirely unbothered by your presence as he hummed and reached out to stop himself at the other end of the pool.

“Well, are you enjoying the show or you going to join?” He asked.

You watched him warily. “You’re not mad?”

“Maybe slightly irritated,” he shrugged, “You hovering is ruining the mood.”

You stared at him and slowly pushed yourself away from the door. You took small steps forward and lowered yourself along the rim of the pool. You held in a squeak as you hung your legs into the cool water.

“So, were you just not going to tell me there was a pool?” You chided.

“You didn’t ask,” he said as he waded casually through the water. “To be fair, you didn’t seem much interested in this place though as I’ve gathered, you are disinterested in most things.”

You frowned and rolled your eyes. You peered over at the wall and pondered leaving him as you found him. You were surprised by a wet hand on your knee.

“If I can get to you so easy, Steve’s gonna drive you mad,” Barnes said. “So if you’re going to be so easily perturbed, you better work on hiding it better.”

“Whatever,” you huffed.

“Whatever,” he mocked as his hand slid under the water and he gripped your ankle. “Loosen up.”

He kicked himself away from the wall and pulled you down into the pool. You plunged with a yelp and threw your arms up in panic. Your nose and mouth filled with water and he let you go. You bobbed back to the surface and spat as your silken night clothes clouded around you.

“What the fuck, Barnes?” You sputtered.

“I’ll admit,” he said through chuckles, “I had a drink or two.” He winked as he moved around you. “Well, Duchess, you do play the role much better than you think.”

“Ugh,” you turned away and reached for the wall of the pool, “You are the worst.”

“Wait,” he pressed against you and caught you around your waist, “Wait, wait.” He drew you back with him. “Come on. Relax.” He dragged you further into the water, “Look, you’ve only got a few days left and even if you hate to listen to me, you should. Once you’re at court, this won’t happen. Ever.”

“What do you care? You haven’t so far.” You struggled with him and dipped below the water again. You twisted and turned and came up facing him as he clung to you.

“Duchess,” he warned, “Don’t be a brat.”

“A brat?” You blinked. “Let go of me, Barnes.”

He grinned and held you to him as he moved backwards across the pool. You felt something between you. It moved against your pelvis and as he spun you and pinned you against the tile, you realised what it was.

“Are you serious right now?” You snarled. “What about your king, huh?”

He chuckled and his hand slid down your back. He squeezed your ass as he kept you against the side of the pool. He was so close you could feel his breath and smell the remnants of his sweat and cologne.

“I’m supposed to show you how to be a good wife,” his finger tickled under your thigh, “In all areas.”

“I doubt he had this in mind,” you pushed against him but he was too strong. He slid between your legs as his hand stretched along the crease of your thigh. “I mean it, Barnes--”

Your voice gurgled as he reached below your nightie and stroked the front of your thin panties. The water splashed as you slapped his chest and growled.

“James!” You cried out. “Stop!”

He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. He twirled his fingers and you gritted your teeth against the tingle it sent through you. You stared into his eyes, fighting against the urge to let him go on. You shook your head slowly and pressed your hands to his shoulders. He let you push him away as his hand trailed over your leg.

“Oh, you just wait, Duchess,” he purred as he combed back his damp hair, “The king isn’t so willing to take orders.”

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #fic #secrets #dark fic #dark!fic #series #mcu #marvel #au #captain america #king!steve #royal au

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sisterofleatherfrog · 3 years

Text

Star Wars Kinktober day- 6

Prompt: Feral kink

Wolffe x AFAB OC

Another shorter one today, I have to get to sleep because I got shit to do tomorrow.

Tags: Chase and catch, predator/prey dynamic, fantasy scenario, full consent they’re just being kinky, size kink, biting, marking, a dash of little red riding hood vibes

Words: 1136

🌳🐺💋

Run, run, run! The mantra was the only thing Mieli knew as she dogged, leaped, and swerved through the heavy brush. Dense groves of thin saplings, dips made by the paths of spring run-off, downed trees, thickets, slopes slick with pine needles, and a multitude of other small obstacles added unwanted seconds to the time that she was making. Between breaths she could hear the crash of her pursuer; smaller obstacles that she had to avoid he pushed through with abandon, but the tighter spaces she navigated with more ease he had to take his time with or circumvent. It was a give and take of lengths and speed: she was fast, but he was a wolf, inexorably possessed with the hunt.

Faster she tried to fly, tried to imagine there were wings upon her back to carry her as the breeze that surely flew above the suffocating blanket of trees, but wishful thinking does not carry feet, and her lungs were burning with the score of her breaths. A slope was before her and she took the opportunity to slide down it, precious seconds being gained as up the other side of the small dip she went. She barely cleared the top of it when she heard him break the cover at the other side. Mieli didn’t stop to look; she knew what she’d see.

The forest started to change around her: less and less was the cover as thick tangles of pine, maple, and oak gave way to a burgeoning meadowland populated by aspens. If she could just get enough distance, she could lose him in the confusion of the dazzlingly uniform landscape. Ghost pipes, lady slippers, and blue-eyed grass now whipped past her ankles among the knee tall grass as she weaved in and out of the trees. A silence settled around her and, finding the sensation of rapacious eyes no longer on her back, she hunkered down and knelt to catch her breath at the base of one of the bright trees. Even though the grass was high enough to mostly conceal her bent form, she still quieted her panting breath as well as she could, not knowing where the hunter was keeping her instincts at full alert.

A howl ripped through the glade of delicate flora and struck the animal within her before she could settle though. Head whipping around on her slim neck, Mieli saw a black shape hurtling toward her, 80 meters approximately and closing. She cursed herself and knew she should have kept running, the seconds taken now to get up and back to speed costing her dearly here where there was nothing to impede him. She tried valiantly, but she’d left her speed behind where she’d tried to rest, and the hunter was only a step behind.

Sounds half breath, half cry to the wild echoed from her lips through the trees as the stomp of his feet creeped closer, closer…

With a snarl she felt more than heard him leap behind her, a second of silence ringing in her ears before two meaty arms wrapped around her midsection and took her into the fall with him. With a small twist in the air they came down, him upon his back with her own pressed into his broad chest, shoulders comfortably swallowed by that solid plane. Escape was her first and only thought. Twisting hard she threw his grasp and went to her stomach on the ground before desperately trying to crawl away on her hands and knees, grasses now tickling the exposed skin of her shoulders and stomach. Before she could make it far, two expansive hands snatched at the meat of her calves, wrapping almost all the way around and causing her to stumble with her upper half, face falling into lilies of the valley. She wailed a shriek as her hands clawed into the fresh earth, trying to crawl away from the hands that held her tight, holding her, dragging her back-

The sharp sting of teeth lanced through her as the man sunk them into the flesh just under the bottom curve of her ass below her shorts. Mieli froze, the sensation of the sudden snap of his jaw having erased anything else in her head, the only thing present being the instinct to remain still and hope that would somehow protect her. Slowly the teeth released, as if testing to see what she would do. When she remained as was, a thick tongue laved over that spot, soothing the soon-to-be mark before he slid further up, nosing her skin before material hid it. Up and up he went, soon licking a small path up her lower back. She shivered, and, as if a trance had been broken, she suddenly came to herself again, the landscape snapping sharply back into focus.

He seemed to sense the second her body tensed and prepared to flee again, because just as suddenly as the notion came he was all over her, the breadth of him more than enough to consume her petite form. His knees rested on either side of her while his shins replaced his hands as they pinned her legs to the ground; in one more desperate attempt Mieli pushed back with her arms, hoping to throw off his core balance, only to be met with the unforgiving hardness of his hips against her ass. She stopped dead, and he took that opportunity to wrap his left arm under hers and around her throat, his right coming to possessively cup her sex.

Her left arm immobilized and his weight bearing down on her upper back, Mieli was forced to fall to her chest, moaning in defeat. His mouth returned to her skin, licking and mouthing the skin at the nape of her neck before he bit her, hard, in the thicker flesh where her neck and shoulder met, and growled. The sound was low and she felt the rumble of it pass through her entire body. It was a message without words: ‘you’re mine’, and ‘submit’. Knowing she was beat, she mewled, helplessly arching her back and pressing herself back into his hips. The length of him was a hot, steel rod pressing into the cleft of her ass, trapped in the confines of his own pants. His teeth still latched onto her, he growled a softer tone at her submission and lessened his bite by a fraction before slowly, torturously, beginning to rut against her.

Turning her face into the ground she grinned and gasped at the sensation of his cock dragging over her. The chase was long and hard but the big, bad wolf had finally caught her. Mieli knew there was nothing to fear though, because this wolf was her Wolffe, and she’d let him devour her mind, body, and soul.

🌳🐺💋

So maybe not all of the plants technically belong in the environment, or together at the same place and time, but I’m just setting the mood here boys.

My OC’s name is derived from the Finnish goddess of the hunt, Mielikki. I came across her a while ago when researching pine-deities and I just thought her name was cool and didn’t want to go with Diana or Artemis (as nice of names as they are). I pronounce Mieli as me-ELLE-ee, but I really have 0 clue as to how the original Finnish is pronounced so, whatever.

Planning this one shot I accidentally started outlining a whole fic, so maybe we’ll see that in the future (if we do, I’ll definitely have either this scene or at least a similar one, so you’ll be getting all the feral smut your little heart's desire).

I just keep making ideas for other longer works while working on these, huh?

Kinktober works

Masterlist

#sisterofleatherfrogwrites #kinktober #kinktober 2021 #star wars #the clone wars #sw #tcw #sw tcw #wolffe #commander wolffe #ct-3636 #wolffe x oc #minors dni

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