#as if he had no bones and became liquid
Text
18+
summary: The rainy night Steve asks you to move in with him.
wc: 1k
warnings: fem!reader, older!steve, age gap (steve is 43, reader is 30), p in v sex, cream pie, slightly subby begging steve, slight breeding kink, mentions of drinking at dinner.
This blurb belongs to my series All I Really Want Is You but can be read as a stand alone. Just missed my favorite old man 🥺
Steve’s forehead is pressed to yours, sweat dripping off that one strand that just won’t stay back with a love drunk stare that threatens to swallow you whole. You almost get lost in the gold that still shimmers in the darkness of his blown out eyes, freshly done nails digging half crescent moons into the constellations on his shoulder blades. Your knees sit on either side of his hips, sticky skin clinging to the brown leather of his couch making every bounce on his lap threaten to rub them raw, but you could care less. Not when he’s looking at you like this.
The rain hits the sliding glass door of his backyard, beige curtains drawn hiding you both from the two day rain storm that’s kept you away from your apartment and mostly in his bed. One of his arms loops around your waist, holding you close from the small of your back.
Chest to chest, his coarse hairs tickle the soft skin of your breasts, long fingers digging into the plush curve of your hip. A palm as warm as the electric fireplace behind you cups the back of your neck, the pad of his thumb rubbing circles against the sensitive spot behind your ear he likes to kiss every morning.
Spearmint and whiskey from the drinks you had at dinner fill the space between you with every breath that fans against your lips. Sweet nothings said with drunken abandon, noses bumping with every thrust, the length of him stretching you in a way that has your eyes roll in the back of your head every time he meets the roll of your hips.
“If you think I’m letting you resign that lease this summer,” he breathes, somehow pulling you even closer, making him go deeper, whispering a sweet ‘I know’ when you whine before finishing his thought, “you’re crazy honey.”
Thunder rumbles in the distance outside, your walls fluttering around him in a way that makes him twitch inside of you, eyebrows marrying together when your fingers find their way into the silver and chestnut hair that curls at the nape of his neck.
“Tryin’ to keep me all to yourself huh?” You tease, the liquid courage helping you stay calm at the realization of what he was implying. A conversation you’ve both tiptoed around when five nights a week sleepovers between places became a regular thing.
His top lip catches on your bottom, the corners of his mouth twitching in a smirk before he steals a kiss that has you chasing his tongue with yours letting him take control. The grip on your waist tightens, stopping your movements while the roll of his hips becomes pointed in your undoing.
”God, yes baby, please.” He moans, perfect teeth nipping at your bottom lip when you tug on his roots, the tip of him teasing the spot that has you gasping his name, “I want you every day, please.”
The thumb behind your ear applies just enough pressure for you to turn your head to the side, letting him kiss a sloppy trail up your jaw, whispering ‘please’ after each one. Loosening his hold enough for you to grind your hips, you meet his thrusts in a way that has the hair on his pelvic bone catch your clit with the perfect pressure over and over again.
”Oh my god, Steve.” You gasp, pulling at his hair hard enough for his lips to meet yours again. Something a little smug behind them.
“Yeah?” His hot breath makes you shudder as you find just the right rhythm.
“Feels s’good, you always make me fuck -“ the buildup you’ve already had three times today returns like its the first time all over again, lashes tickling the tops of your cheeks.
“I know honey, I can feel it, you can give it to me, you know I want it.” He hums against your lips, the tip of his tongue teasing yours.
The hand on your hip snakes between your thighs, the pad of his thumb finding your clit, rubbing the kind of messy circles that has your legs start to shake.
”Wanna make you cum every day, please.” Grunting when the roll of your hips makes his toes curl against the hardwood floor, he knows he’s not going to last much longer.
“Tell me you’re gonna let me baby.” Steve practically whines and all you can do is nod because even every day doesn’t seem like enough.
What’s longer than forever?
“Cum inside me,” you whine, “I want it, god, I need it.”
The groan that rumbles from his chest at your request is enough to rival the thunder that gets close enough to shake the house, and the band that wound up tight enough to snap finally does just that, your cunt giving him no choice but to listen to you as you fall apart on his lap.
“Anything - anything you want.” He pants against your open mouth, twitching against your fluttering walls before spilling everything that’s left of him inside of you. The blunt ends of his nails dig into your hip keeping you close so you have to take every last bit, one day hoping you’ll want it to stick.
#steve harrington#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x reader smut#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington x fem!reader#my writing#all i really want is you#older!steve harrington
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The Fox & the Hound (Ch. 01)
Inspired by a tag on @ceilidho's tumblr post reblogged by @garbagecompactor3263827 where Johnny wants to sink his teeth into a newbie porn star.
MDNI/18+ NO EXCEPTIONS
AO3 Link - Comments/Reblogs very appreciated
You watched him prep in the shared bathroom. People were bustling in and out, and a lighting manager was handing him a fresh razor, reaching over him for her films. He trimmed around his fat, flaccid cock with a practiced hand, getting the hairs just right. Part of you wished it was still the 80s when bush was en vogue . The rest of him remained furry, thankfully, and just as you were about to tend to your own garden, he caught you looking. That same glint in his eyes sparkled, like a hound that had spotted the writhing tail of its fox, ready to crack its bones in his huge maw. He’d been looking at you like that all day. He laughed, but he didn’t ride you for gawking. If anything, he looked a little relieved. What had you gotten yourself into?
Nothing had gone according to plan. This was your first real shoot, and the original actor who had set you up with this production company wasn’t even in the film. Film , your internal monologue chided you, it’s a porno, you filthy slut . Okay, a porn film. You’d sent nude photos here and there, and you’d even landed in Playboy as a back-page lube advert girl. It was a start. But, now, here you were about to shoot your first porno , and the only thing you knew about this guy was that he had fought for this part.
He was beyond famous. You’d heard that Johnny Dangerous was the man of the hour, and that most of the girls who needed to boost their bankrolls called him up to ask him to co-star. You’d never even heard of him until today, and after hanging around the catering cart, you learned that he was the one who had paid actual money to star with you.
It was probably some power play. Maybe it was your novelty. Banging the brand new porn actress must have been some sort of game. You didn’t care. This one gig was about to pay off your loans and buy you a brand new car all at the same time. You just needed to survive Mr. Dangerous.
“Honey, are you comin’? We gotta shoot outside before the sun goes down.”
The voice came from the doorway, but you weren’t the honey, for once. They were talking to him. He didn’t answer. He just nodded, dismissing them, throwing his bright green swim shorts back on and rubbing the remainder of the oil into his broad chest. He was staring at you, biting hard at the inside of his cheek like he had a secret. Then, his expression became resolute, and he spoke to you softly, the way you do when you’re trying to coax a cat out from under a car,
“You gonna make it, lass?”
“Yeah,” you swiped on some waterproof mascara as an excuse to stare into the mirror and not at him, “I’m just a little nervous, that’s all. That seems normal.”
“It is,” Johnny moved closer to you, fluffing his own eyebrows in the mirror right alongside you, “Very normal. I’ll take care of you, hen. Nothin’ to worry your wee head about.”
You smiled. You didn’t want to thank him, exactly, but you wanted to be nice. Cordial. Professional.
It wasn’t very professional of you to stare at the way his cock bounced as he adjusted his shorts, though, was it?
Then, to your shock, he leaned down and planted a kiss on the corner of your lips, tasting your sticky, cherry gloss, and saying,
"See you in a bit, bonnie. Gonna make you feel real good."
You stopped. He was gone, and for the first time that afternoon, you were alone. He lingered in all of the cracks and crevices of you, though. Now that he had pressed his lips to you, the spell had begun, and you realized you’d be fucking this man for hours. You drank your water from your icy jug, trying to turn it into liquid courage.
“Okay, okay, uhh… cute, yeah. Love it,” the director, Mike, appraised you like he worked on an assembly line, swooshing you over to the diving board with his hand, clutching a venti Starbucks cup in the other, “You look great, babe. Go sit on the diving board and let’s do a little preamble. Feel yourself up, pretend that you’re sunbathing in Malibu and not fuckin’ Santa Clarita, mkay?”
You made your way over to the diving board, walking in a way that you assumed was sexual, making a sexual face, and moving your hands across your tits…sexually. You thought it was a fine job until you heard the cut whistle.
Mike was behind four people, two cameras, and an iPad when he shouted at you again,
“This isn’t a goddamn church service, babe. C’mon. I get hard when Chuy over here drives too fast, and this is not doin’ it.”
“Sorry,” you said, moving back to your mark, determined to be positively the sexiest sunbather he had ever seen.
“Mikey,” you heard Johnny’s voice call out, “Lemme kick it off.”
“Shut up, Johnny. I can’t afford your extra minutes, you skank,” Mike laughed and sipped his triple caramel mochaccino.
Johnny came out from his shaded tent and cut his eyes at Mike before staring right at you,
“No charge. Just want it to be right.”
“Ugh,” Mike rolled his eyes behind his too-small sunglasses, “You and your…” he used scare quotes, “... art . Fine. Whatever. I just don’t want to shoot in the goddamn dark, so hurry up.”
Johnny walked around the pool, stroking himself across his shorts to stay hard. He was so thick that it looked like he was petting a handle of vodka back and forth. You tried to control your face, but you were getting more and more nervous as he came closer and closer to you.
“C’mere, bonnie,” he pulled you up from the diving board and held you in his arms.
If it wasn’t for the twenty people sweating to death in black tech clothes and eating dried-out hummus from foam plates standing around you, you would have felt like you were at your high school formal, being cradled gently in hands that wanted to do so much more.
“Eyes on me,” he whispered.
You obeyed, for some reason. There was nothing else to do but obey him.
When he bent to kiss you, you knew it was for the cameras, because the angle of his face was open and softly spread so that the way he sucked your lips into his mouth would be seen by A and B-roll film. You kissed him back, trying to turn the sexiness up to eleven, rubbing your hands on his rigid cock to appear wanton and needy.
He shuddered, and you thought you’d done something wrong. The look in his eyes told a different story. They were feverish, daring, and his pupils were fully blown. You could smell the coconut sunscreen someone had applied to him, and you could feel his breathing quicken in his huge body.
Mike’s nasally voice came over the speakers,
“Let’s get a boom in there and pick up some of the kissing noise, please. Also, Johnny, some of your famous accent there, baby. You know what the ladies like.”
You were being kissed again, now set up for everyone to hear. He was devouring you, and you tried to keep your footing, grabbing his hulking shoulders and running your hands across his hirsute form. His muscles rippled and stretched beneath your touch, and he spoke his lines,
“Thought you would sneak into my wee pool, did ya, hen?”
You gave your voice a high-pitched lilt,
“Yes, I just wanted to get nice and tan.”
“Aye?” He pulled the tie on your bikini top, “Wouldn’t wanna get any tan lines, huh?”
You shook your head no, kissing his bare chest and feeling the top slither off of you to hang around your waist.
“Wow,” his voice had changed its timbre, “Look at these pretty tits. Jesus…”
Johnny brought his mouth down to your nipple and sucked on it, licking on your beaded nub until it tightened for him, making sure to allow the camera man a full view of your perky breasts as they filled his hands.
You moaned, and then you remembered to moan the right way, high and whiny. The higher the pitch, the higher the profit, they’d said.
Johnny stopped suddenly, looking you in your eyes,
“Go back, lass. The first way. Do it the first way.”
“Johnny!” Mike complained, “Do you wanna come sit in this fuckin’ chair, or are you gonna focus on gettin’ your fat dick wet? Stop directing mid-scene. Cut. Cut. Start over with the tit sucking, and we’ll take it from the top,” Mike changed the tone of his voice and smiled at you, “You’re doing great, babe. Ten outta ten.”
You felt Johnny move his mouth to you again, but this time, his eyes were watching you, looking at you and waiting for you to make a choice. He was eager to make you moan, sucking hard and then soft, letting his long tongue lave over you like an animal, nibbling at your skin and making your blood rush to the surface.
You moaned for real, testing the waters. Johnny smiled so wide you could see his back teeth, his jaw open and parting to let his tongue come forward to do its work.
“Tha’s it, hen. Lemme hear you.”
His enormous hand squeezed your other breast, and he moved his mouth between them, stirring up your pleasure like a whisk in cream. Soft peaks.
You obliged. The more you moaned, the more he fondled. He was yanking at your strings and ripping the bikini from you quicker than you had assumed he would be, especially since you were still in the outdoor scene. Wasn’t this all supposed to be inside?
“Christ,” Mike groaned, “I look at my email for five seconds and you’re almost nose-deep in her asshole? Johnny, this was supposed to be at couch scene three. Can - hey! Can somebody get him a book?”
Someone handed him a book, and he tossed it in the bushes,
“I dinnae care if it’s scene five thousand, Mikey. Just shoot it vérité, mate. Just like old times,” Johnny barked. He was getting more and more ruffled as Mike kept cutting in, almost like he was impatient to be done with it. Done with you?
Mike turned his head to his assistant and asked,
“How many minutes do we have? Are we good? Okay. Okay!” He threw up his hands, “Okay, Johnny, you prima donna bitch. Let’s take it inside.”
The Someone with the book now passed Johnny his robe and he shouldered it on. He looked around and barked again,
“Aye! Hers? Give it here.”
He then had your robe in his hands and put it over you, cloaking you in its soft terrycloth, making sure you were covered. It was such an abrupt stop to your pleasure, one that you were not used to making, and your body railed you for it. Your pussy throbbed, your nipples ached, and your belly was full of butterflies. He held your hand as you walked inside. Just as you were about to get into position four on couch three, he pulled you back, nodding up at Mike and his team of people.
“Okay, lets get lighting on couch scene three, Billy. Hey! Hotdog! I didn’t say pull the lamp. Put the lamp back. Thanks, my man. Two more clicks on the warm light. Okay, gross, one click. Perfecto.”
Mike’s head popped over his iPad,
“You lovebirds ready for scene three?”
“Hang on,” Johnny grumbled, removing his swim trunks and flip-flops.
He positioned himself on the couch and spread his legs, jerking himself back to full hardness and staring right at you as he did so.
“C’mon, bonnie. I’m ready for you.”
You made your way over to the couch and knelt down. You didn’t mean to, but you hissed when your knees hit the cold, hard tiles.
“Sorry!” You whispered to him.
He took his hands off his cock and pulled you onto the couch with him,
“Here, bonnie girl. Like this instead, yeah?”
Johnny pushed himself out along the length of the couch so that you were both laying on it. You placed your knees on the arm of it, raising your bare ass in the air for B-roll shots, your face perfectly positioned at Johnny’s raging hard-on. It was massive up close. His plump head and thick rod had seemed normal in his huge hands, but now that your small fingers were wrapped around him, you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.
“Okay, fuck,” Mike smiled, drinking his coffee and nodding, “That’s hot. Good call, new girl. Smart.”
You smiled back at Mike, grateful for the praise, feeling like you were going to knock it out of the park. Then, Johnny’s cruel hand grabbed your hair and turned your head up to stare into his eyes. He grinned like a demon,
“You don’t have to smile at him, lass. He’s a fuckin’ bawbag.”
“JD! Can we get on with it?” Mike rolled his eyes.
You got on with it. Something in Johnny’s demeanor had stirred a dark place in your belly. He was possessive, and he didn’t like you smiling at Mike. He did like the way you took each of his balls in your mouth and sucked on them with loose, pouty lips. His moans were cut short, not wanting to over-saturate the reel with male grunting sounds. Apparently, the straight male audience wasn’t a fan of anyone’s grunting but their own.
He also liked when you tried to take him into your throat, moving your head as far as you could down his shaft, choking on his cock until you felt drool coat the inside of your mouth. You spit it onto him, and he wrenched his eyes shut, unable to watch you fuck your own face with his shaft.
“Okay, while Johnny’s taking a nap or whatever that face is, let’s get B-roll in here for her mouth. Also, let’s take a minute or so of that gorgeous ass she’s got up there for us. That’s gonna be money, my friend. You are gonna be Miss Popular!”
In the place where you were staring before, Johnny’s face of agony and bliss, now there was a big, black lens. You could see yourself, bobbing up and down hungrily, and you pulled out all the stops. You suckled gently on his glans, lapping up his precome dutifully, enjoying it enough to moan again.
He jumped, and Johnny’s hand snaked its way under the camera to squeeze the life out of his shaft.
“Hey, mate, move to B-roll of her ass, would ya?”
The camera man laughed,
“About to lose it, Johnny? I thought she was the newbie.”
“Shut up, mate.”
You stayed stock still, watching as the camera moved to your rear end, feeling beyond exposed. You played with your pussy, spreading it open, fingering yourself, all of the things you were supposed to do. And, to be honest, it felt great. You needed to come so badly, a warm breeze would have been sexy to you at this point.
Johnny stared down at you, his dick still in the prison of his fist, panting,
“How are we doin’, lass?”
“Good, you?” You appreciated the check-in.
“Good. Ready to fuck you. So damn ready.”
His voice and his eyes were predatory. You felt like his prey. Prey had claws, too, though. So, you licked his shaft again, and you fed his own line back to him,
“I’m gonna come so fast. You’re gonna make me feel so good, baby.”
His face changed into a look of shock. Just then, Mike rang the bell,
“Alright, it’s couch doggy and - what does this say?”
“Light,” someone told him.
“Okay, light spanking? You okay with that new girl? It says you signed off on it.”
“Yeah,” you shrugged.
“Okie dokie, just checking. Sweet. Let’s get there.”
Johnny was standing at the arm of the couch, positioned behind you were you couldn’t see him. You felt his hands rub your cheeks and spread them wide, opening your core up to him. Then, that long tongue was lapping up your wetness, and he was talking with his mouth full,
“Mmf, so wet for me, lassie. That’s my good girl.”
Your pussy clenched and you knew he could see it. You thought he might laugh or make some other comment, but he kept your secret, licking the inside of you with soft, languid strokes, you gave him another clench - this time on purpose - waiting to see if you could rile him up again.
“Oh, fuck,” Johnny moaned, “You’re so ready for me. Fuck me, wait.”
He stopped eating you out, which was the opposite of what you were going for. This shoot was a disaster, and you really needed this gig.
“I’m sorry!” You said, turning around.
“What?” His brow furrowed, “No, just wait. Mike!”
“What is it now? Johnny - this is why I didn’t call you about Manuel Ferrara’s gangbang.”
“I just need my bag.”
Mike’s sigh was theatrical,
“Everyone take five.”
The bell went off again. You sat on the couch and the same someone brought you your robe and a water. You smiled and thanked them. Johnny had disappeared, but when he came back, he was wearing a thick, black cock ring, tightly secured around his shaft and balls.
“Okay,” he sighed, sitting by you on the couch, robeless.
“Are you alright?” You asked, offering him some of your water.
He took it, gulping down two huge swallows before responding,
“Aye, lass. Just had to stop myself from ending this show too soon.”
You raised your eyebrows in surprise,
“I thought it was for the opposite reason. Must be hard to keep it up for such a long time, especially with all these breaks.”
He laughed,
“Usually, yeah. But, not today.”
His eyes were raking over you, still hungry for you even though he’d seen it all already. It would have been a lie to say you weren’t hungry for him, too. It was intoxicating, the way he stared at you, eager and joyful. You weren’t surprised he was so popular.
“Annnnnd, we’re back, people! Baby, could you perch up there again, please? Now that Mr. Princess is done preening, we can shoot a fucking porno.”
You repositioned yourself back to where you were, and someone came by to re-oil your ass cheeks. They felt shiny, and you hoped you looked great. Watching the film was going to be humbling, but this was your first time and you were learning so much.
Johnny took his place behind you, and you felt the familiar, heavy slap of a cockhead on your pussy lips, sticky and exciting. You gasped. He responded,
“That’s right, hen. It’s time for your reward.”
He began to feed his head into you, and the crown of it popped into your hole with some resistance. Behind you, his thick fingers spread your cheeks apart, and you felt one hand leave just to return in a sharp smack. You cried out louder. He sank in a little deeper, moaning right along with you. He slapped your ass again and growled,
“Fuuuuuuck, that’s too tight, that’s too tight. Oh, Jesus.”
You keened, embarrassed, but unable to stop the noise that came out of your mouth.
“You like it, lass? Gettin’ this pretty little cunt all stretched out for me. Gonna make you beg for this cock and only this fuckin’ cock, ain’t that right?”
“Yeah,” you moaned, your voice straining, “Only this cock, baby. Fuck me nice and hard.”
You regretted every word because he was pleased to oblige you. He slammed himself down into your aching hole, pressing through your walls, through your wetness and the oil and the lube, and it still wasn’t enough. You felt like you were tearing apart, especially when he pressed you onto his hilt.
Everything slowed way down. You saw white, for a moment, and you felt tears well up in your eyes, burning on their way down your cheeks. He was trying to ease you though it, but you were coming on him. Your whole body was shaking and trembling, and his girth was forcing an orgasm to rattle through your core. You even felt him fighting to stay inside of you, battling against your tightening walls, desperate to keep his position, nestled at your womb, deep within you.
“Oh, fuck! Lass! Holy God, that pussy is tight. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
You felt him slap you again, but the sting was gone. Your body had flooded you with orgasmic endorphins and adrenilne, and it was going to take a lot more than a “light spanking” to get your attention away from the cosmic nova exploding in your belly.
Johnny’s thrusts were that of a hungry beast. He didn’t falter, nor slow, nor stop to check and see if you were even still alive. He was chasing himself down inside of you like a dog with its tail. Over and over and over, you felt the heavy weight of him pushed forward, smacking into you, feeling his hips snap repeatedly spearing your core with his enormous rod. He was grunting with abandon now, just barking out cries along with you, and when you looked at him over your shoulder, his face was bent and twisted in such a rage that it frightened you. He looked inhuman.
Suddenly, you were lifted from the couch, and his hands were around you. He flipped you over and held your thighs pressed down to your chest, creating an even deeper angle. You regained your thoughts quickly enough to hold your legs pinned for him, only half-worried that you’d tumble off the couch.
You weren’t sure it was possible though, since his grip on your waist was so punishingly tight. He was fucking you so hard and so fast that you were feeling it in your bones. Your hips were taking the brunt of his sex-fueled wrath, and you knew you were going to be sore tomorrow.
Then, his fingers found your clit, rubbing accurate and pleasure-filled circles around and around, making your lips swell with intensity. You were going to come again, and you told him so,
“Johnny… you’re gonna make me come, baby.”
“Come,” he snarled down at you, his eyes wild and haunted, “Come on me. I wanna feel you fuckin’ squeeze me out. Come. Come. Come, lass. Come for me, pretty girl. Oh! Oh, there it is. Yes, yes, yes, good girl. Good girl. Fuck!”
He rode you through your orgasm and stalled, leaving himself inside of your fluttering walls, basking in the sensation, trying to catch his breath. Johnny sat on the couch and you climbed into his lap, taking his cock in your hands and guiding it back into your dripping hole.
“Bonnie,” he sighed, kissing your neck and grabbing your ass in both of his hands, “You feel like heaven. God, baby, don’t stop. Just like that, don’t stop.”
You were rocking back and forth on him, and you could feel his swollen head rubbing at the end of your pussy, bullying your cervix, making you feel too full.
“It’s too much, baby,” you confessed, squishing your breasts together and letting him move his mouth across your nipples once again, “You’re too big. Filling me up… I’m so full.”
“You’re so tight, lass.”
He said it like a prayer. His eyes were glassy as they stared up at you. All of his bravado and flirtatiousness was gone, and it had been replaced by boyish wonder. It was as if it was his first time to feel the inside of a woman, to be hugged, warm and wet, engulfed in her core and playing within her the oldest song known to man. You sang it for him, not for profit anymore. His bewtichment was complete. You were totally and completely ensnared by him.
Then, he held you to him, clutching you to his chest and screaming out loud, braying and writhing beneath you. He was coming. You felt him pulse, over and over, spilling and foaming and frothing around the edges of your hole, soaking you from the inside.
You rode him slowly, back down from his high, and he gasped with every roll of your hips, looking at you in some sort of horrible ecstasy.
Mike’s bell went off in your ear.
“Okay, folks! Thanks so much. Let’s wrap it. I’m sure some of this is salvageable. Johnny, and uh… whatever your name is, you still owe me garden scene six and upstairs… um, is it pool table? It’s pool table. Wanna be back here tomorrow at two?”
Johnny gave an exhausted thumbs up, and so did you, finally sliding yourself off of him with a wet milky sound.
“Um,” you tried to catch your breath, “Thanks, for helping me today. Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”
He looked at you quizzically, almost a little hurt. It was a confusing face to see, but you didn’t really know him that well, so you waited for his reply.
“Sure, bonnie.”
You untangled your legs from him and pulled on your robe, leaving him on the couch. You needed a shower and some brand of fast food, as soon as physically possible.
The bathroom was steaming when you hopped in, and you were covered head to toe in coconut smelling soap when you heard a knock at the door.
“Uh, come in?” You peeked around the glass partition.
It was Johnny.
“Got room for one more, lass?”
You looked around behind him, half-expecting a camera to pop out. He noticed your reticence, and he shook his head,
“Nevermind. Forget I asked.”
“Hey, yeah. Sure, if you want. Come on in,” you moved deeper into the shower, letting him step into the billowing steam.
At first, he was silent, just washing himself, scraping the suds over his body and sharing the water with you. But, then, he asked,
“Wanna get a bite? I’m starvin’ to death.”
“Me, too,” you laughed.
“Class,” he smiled.
There was another long pause, and then when you turned off the water, he stepped into your space, too close to be friendly,
“What if I was still hungry for you as well, hen? What would you say to that?”
The water dripped from the head of the shower in a soft tinkling pattern. You breathed each other’s breaths, inching closer and closer until your lips touched his wide chest, the hair smeared flat from the warm water, rivulets rushing down his belly to his crotch, dripping off of him and of you.
You kissed his chest again, feeling him shudder under you as if he hadn’t just come inside of you minutes ago, packed with anxious excitement.
Smiling up at him, you took a chance,
“Your couch or mine?”
Chapter 02
#call of duty fanfic#john mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish#soap mactavish x reader#johnny soap mactavish#johnny mactavish#john mactavish smut#soap mactavish#cod mw2#cod mwii#john soap mctavish x reader#soap x reader#soap x you#afab reader#Female reader#x female reader
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Ok, but no one talks about the fact Adam was literally MADE to reproduce. I know for a FACT he cums buckets and no one can convince me he doesn’t have the biggest sensitive balls in the show😤 I want to overstimulated him while telling him what a good boy he is. so bad 😭😭
P.S love your Writing!!
Oh nah bc HE DOES cum buckets and his balls are SO FUCKING SENSITIVE I fucking love you for this request so here ya fucking go!!
But I still want more, don't know what I'm after
pairing: Adam x male!reader
warnings: language, anal sex, sub!Adam, dom!Reader, praise kink, overstimulation
note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers
“Fuck, yeah, just like that,” the first man moaned loudly as his hands gripped your hair firmly, forcing you to move your head back and forth at a quick pace. Your eyes were on his face, drinking in every little emotion the first man had on display, his mask was somewhere on the floor, just like his clothes. His eyes were shut and he was visibly enjoying himself, the brunette was kind enough to let you hear how much he was enjoying himself. “Best fucking head- shit- I've ever got,” he mumbled mindlessly and you slapped his hip bone harshly, drawing another moan from him.
To you it was quite entertaining that the taller male thought he was in charge when really he wasn't. Yes, he was controlling the pace and yes, he was thrusting inside your mouth, but was he in control? No. Because you simply allowed him to use you, you had given him permission, had even offered it to him - oh how Adam was so clueless how that decision would backfire on him.
The brunette was sitting on the edge of your shared bed, you in-between his legs, sucking him off, giving him ‘the best head he ever got’. Your hands were sliding up and down his inner thighs, whenever your fingers got even close to the brunette's balls he started to shiver - a spot so sensitive yet so tempting for you to touch, to explore. It's not like you've never touched his balls, or licked them, but it wasn't something you were doing daily, simply because they were so sensitive.
Adam's fingers in your hair tightened and his breathing became harder, louder. He opened his eyes a little to look down at you, to watch you swallow his dick - the first human dick that had ever been created. And oh fuck the image of his erection disappearing inside your mouth did things to him, good things, the best things even. “Close,” was the only warning you got before the first man picked up the pace yet again and it only took him a moment longer to actually fulfill his promise and come undone in your mouth.
It wasn't physically possible to swallow it all, not for you and not for another mortal soul. It was simply too much, yet you were always eager to try your best and drink as much as you were able to. However your best was far from drinking it all - so fucking far away from it. Adam's fucked out eyes watched as his cum leaked from the corner of your mouth, he watched the white liquid staining your lips, your chin, fuck, even your cheeks. It was everywhere, inside your body, on your skin, on his skin - some of it dripped on the floor and you knew it would be a bitch to clean that shit up later. Because for now you had other plans.
You kept moving your head through his orgasm, which resulted in a lot of his own cum dripping down his shaft, onto his balls. And who were you to leave your partner all dirty covered in their own fluids, right? So you pulled your head back, Adam's still hard dick slipped from your lips and hit his stomach. You quickly grabbed his legs, yanked them upwards and placed them onto your shoulders, the first man was quick to cross his shins behind your head so that they wouldn't slip and fall. The sudden shift of position and the lack of energy due to his post orgasm haze caused Adam to fall onto his back with a quiet moan. Good.
You were swift to lean in again, your tongue pressed itself against Adam's dick as if it were providing the air that filled your lungs - the reality wasn't as far off as it may have seemed. After all it was his seed filling your stomach. His dick was clean in no time and while you licked and teased it, you felt it slowly going soft underneath your tongue - Lord have mercy with this man because he was not ready for what was about to come. Because the brunette lifted his upper body a little - only the slightest bit - and made grabby hands at you, expecting you to get up off your knees and give him the cuddles he always desired after sex. But you weren't done with him just yet so you ignored his silent request for physical touch and licked down his shaft until your tongue met his balls.
A violent shiver went through his body and you heard how the first man inhaled sharply at the sudden and clearly unexpected contact. “Fuck, no, please,” he whined quietly, the pleaed was muffled by his own hand that he had lifted to bite into. Another request you ignored - if the brunette wanted you to truly stop he'd use the safe word you had agreed on. Unless that was the case, you were good to keep going. At first you just licked the ejaculate off of the sensitive skin, one of your hands held onto his hips, preventing him from thrusting his hips, the other was squeezing his thigh. Adam drew you in closer with his legs, and you chuckled softly at his reaction, “You’re such a good boy for me, you know that?” And while Adam desperately tried to hide it, you heard the whimper that fell from his lips at your praise. “Too much,” he cried out as your lips wrapped around his balls and sucked them inside your mouth - the first man thought he was gonna die from the overwhelming pleasure that flooded his body.
His nails dug into the sheets as his body tensed up and he felt his dick harden again, the tight heat that surrounded his testicles felt heavenly and like his personal fall to hell at the same time - he knew he wanted more despite his body telling him otherwise. “Please,” he mumbled, a whine of your name followed as he pressed the back of his head against the mattress, desperately trying to buck his hips, but you had pinned him down good. “You sound so pretty when you beg for me, baby,” you hummed, your lips stretched into a wicked smile that bittered your sweet words. “My handsome angelic baby,” you mumbled against the sensitive skin of his nuts and Adam flinched a little at the vibration that sent through his lower body parts. “Being so fucking good for me.” And Adam found himself nodding violently in agreement, huffing out excited, “Yes, your good boy.”
The brunette tossed his head from side to side, trying to get used to the unusual amount of pleasure that fueled his body, his dick was fully erected again, throbbing for attention in the most painful way and yet Adam was too lost in desire and lust to do something about it. He wanted more. More praises, more touches, more friction, more love. And yet his body screamed at him that what he had was already too much, that he wouldn't be able to handle more. Adam's hands moved from the sheets to your hair again, pushing you away while also trying to get you closer, to get more. And you let him.
Overstimulating the first man wasn't something he was used to - you weren't even sure if that was something you could get used to in the first place. But over stimulation was so rarely done that he had no chance to even deal with it properly - usually the both of you were too fucked out for it, too spent so that all you were able to do was wrap your wings around each other and fall asleep covered in soft feathers. The golden feathers of his wings tickled your hand that was holding down his hips but you simply ignored that, you were too focused on pleasuring the brunette. And then the hand that had been squeezing his thigh softly wrapped around Adam's dick and he was done. The first man covered himself in his own cum as he moaned your name on the top of his lungs. The white liquid was quick to run down his sides, staining the once pure feathers of his wings and the sheets underneath them. The pain that had been throbbing through his dick was gone and so was the desire for more, exhaustion wrapped Adam in a tight blanket and you watched as he almost immediately closed his eyes to take a deep breath.
“You look absolutely stunning, Adam,” you hummed as you got up, your knees made a cracking sound at that - fuck next time you definitely needed a pillow to kneel on. You climbed onto the bed next to him. “Shut the fuck up ‘n’ c’mere,” he simply mumbled, his voice was hoarse, probably from screaming and moaning for you, as he wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you flush against his chest to bury his face in your hair and inhale your scent. “You’re fucking dirty,” you complained but Adam just gave you a tired hum, rolled you two over while wrapping you up in his wings, “Don’t fucking care, just wanna sleep.”
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Heyy I never send requests because honestly I can’t explain what I mean but can you do
*hard to sit here and be close to you, and not kiss you* from the fritz gerald sentence starter list with steven grant
I loveeeee the way you write him 🥰
THE WAY THINGS CHANGE
a/n: thank you so much darling! i've been off my writing game for awhile. but i was listening to the head and the heart last night and gained some much needed inspo for steven. only to find this perfect request sitting in my inbox yet to be answered. so i hope you enjoy this late response.
summary: memories of steven grant haunted you like a history you could not change. they were your dreams, nightmares, and wishes that never came true.
word count: 1.5k+
pairing: steven grant x reader
warnings: none, angst, my attempts at being a writer again, idk this is probably not very good so be warned.
The sky was set aflame as the minutes and seconds ticked by. Your mug filled with cheap wine sat on the edge of the roof, your hands clasped around it. You wondered if you imagined hard enough that maybe the liquid would burn hot. Would it turn to coffee? The same type you had with him. Would the sun fade to a soothing darkened sky, scattered with very few stars and even fewer wishes.
His smile was an object of permanence in your mind's eye. The quirk of his lips, the pink hue that fell into a pout of confusion. Even if it was just to show he was listening.
Although when it came to Steven, he always listened.
If you shut your eyes—imagined a night sky of infinity and constellations and stars not yet wished upon—you could see him. You could feel the way his curls twined around your fingers. The soft brown was somehow your favorite hair color now. You never knew you had one until him. They became a staple when you remembered him. The singular trait you latched onto when you could no longer trace the shape of his face, the curve of his jaw, the slope of his nose.
“What’s your favorite thing about the night sky?” you asked on a whim. The coffee perked you up slightly. Bitter and grainy on your tongue but perfect nonetheless. It allowed you to stand there at least, to stay awake as his own mind fought against the exhaustion that no doubt riddled his bones.
He never complained though.
Never told you that he lived on barely enough; that his mind was a place of chaos he’d been privy to for quite some time. You saw him as much as you could, but sometimes time never seemed to work in your favor. Time seemed to be intent on keeping the two of you apart.
He smiled—bright enough to put a sunset to shame. “The moon.”
“Of course,” you huffed.
His life wasn’t a secret to you. Steven—ever the man to consider others emotions—made sure to be upfront with you. As much as he possibly could of course. But some secrets were simply not his to tell, not a history he could divulge. So he made up in whispered words of lands that existed centuries ago. In stories that bridged the gap between humanity and the past. He regaled you with the history he could speak aloud with the hope that it would be enough.
That you’d be okay with just that.
“Tell me yours love.”
Somehow breath turned nonexistent around Steven. Your default had become to live eternally without it. Not that you minded much. Breathing was no longer a necessity when you yearned for the sensation that came without it. The skipped beat of your heart, the warmth that spread through your stomach, and the love you felt spark along each nerve and each limb.
With Steven you felt like you existed on a different plane. Problems were nonexistent. Humanity became an afterthought, and the possibility of anything flourished like a flower at the start of spring. Bright and beautiful and full of endless potential.
You’d describe your relationship with Steven that way. A perfect replica of that actually, but every now and then life collided with your shining star, knocking away the wish before you could make it. Steven held your hope in his open and inviting palms, yet the thought of permanency with him…felt further away with each passing day. He couldn’t remain. He could barely stay for the moments spent awake together.
“The stars,” you whispered, casting your gaze out onto the sea of tiny shining sparks in the sky. An endless amount of them out in space, yet so few shone in the night sky.
“For the wishes?”
You smiled. “I guess so.”
Oblivious to you, he had moved closer, his leg centimeters away from brushing against yours. “What are you wishing for tonight?”
Could you tell him? Could you reveal that your mind—your heart—was set on him. After all this time it would always be him. Steven had sunk into your life as one would fall to the bottom of a river. Softly, smoothly, until your breath slipped free in a thousand tiny bubbles. Yet you held the option to come up for air; you had every choice layed out in front of you.
When it came to Steve though…sinking was the choice you’d make every time. You’d rather drown in his sweetness than live without it. A fact that you’d come to terms with months ago.
“You tell me,” you replied, your eyes meeting his. So full of life, so full of hope. It nearly broke your heart in two.
He smiled. “It’s not really a wish.”
“I don’t care.”
“It’s…uh…” He tapped his finger on his leg. A subtle beat of morse code, each letter spelled out before your very eyes. You caught the makings of an L and an O, but the echo of his cough dragged your attention away. “It’s hard.”
“What’s hard?” you breathed.
He cleared his throat, a hint of crimson spilling onto the tops of his cheeks. “Hard to sit here and be so close to you, and not kiss you.”
Your stomach swooped, breath escaping your lungs faster than you could suck it in. Yet you still held his gaze. You kept it like a closely guarded secret; dug your fingers and nails into its makeup hoping that some part would remain once this moment ended. Once you were alone again, yearning for him to return. That was the thing about Steven though. You never had to hold on so tight, because without knowing it, he was already embedded in your heart. He was a part of your DNA.
“It doesn’t have to be,” you said softly, leaning a bit closer. The heat of your mug seared into the skin of your palms, but you ignored it for favor of the burning ache that spread through your stomach. Until it wrapped tightly around your heart.
Like a vice you’d never be able to escape.
“No?”
You shook your head, leaned even closer, and watched his eyes flick down to your lips. “Guess you figured out my wish.”
He let out a breath, shaky and warm, and you nearly collapsed as it washed across your face. Perhaps he wanted to say more, or maybe you should have been the one to keep talking, but Steven was never one to keep you waiting. He yearned for you like the moon did the sun. An ongoing cycle of passing one another by, until nothing remained but your simple silly little wishes scattered across the sky.
He held onto each one with reverence. With the patience of a man who knew that your time together would come. You’d flourish together, pass across one another. Even if it was for a brief amount of time. Steven had always been your wish, your eclipse that was yet to come, yours in more ways than you could imagine.
Cupping your cheek, he tugged you close enough until his nose pressed to your skin, his shaky breath an indication that he felt just as nervous as you. That this small moment of time was anticipated with a fervor you’d never understand. His lips met yours, barely there at first, a soft brush of skin against skin. You felt hesitant, scared that he wouldn’t want more than this.
Until you heard him groan. Broken and long and absolutely withering. He tugged you closer, his lips slotting against yours rougher than before. And you felt the heat spill searingly into your chest, a soft moan bubbling to the surface to echo in the night air. He swallowed it with ease, his fingers lightly digging into your cheek, hand moving to press into your waist. You could still taste his nerves on your tongue, feel the way his body remained slightly tense, but with each touch of your skin to his he began to loosen.
He bloomed for you right there on that balcony with the moon as your only witness.
Hot tears slipped down your cheeks, the sunlight spilling back into your vision as you finally opened your eyes again. Sunset melted into dusk, the soft hues of blue and purple streaking across the sky. Until you could see the moon begin to rise in the east. A glimmer of the man that once held your heart in his.
The creak of the roof door echoed behind you. Probably another tenet coming to admire the view. You gathered your mug, wiped the flow of tears that refused to stop, and moved to give them the space. You’d seen enough of the moon for one night. There was no reason you had to stick around to pick out hopeless stars and lost dreams. That would remain in the past with the rest of your memories.
“What are you wishing for tonight love?”
The breath caught in your throat, eyes wide as you whirled around to face what you assumed would be a figment of your imagination—a cruel trick of your mind. Yet there he stood. Wearing different clothes, and holding a different demeanor, but you’d recognize him anywhere.
You smiled slightly, your fingers tightening around the mug. “You tell me.”
#steven grant x reader#steven grant x you#steven grant x y/n#steven grant#moon knight#moon knight fic#a dream within a dream week🍷#me posting a fic in 2024???#unheard of
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Whispers on the Water
A lesbian faefucker adventure
It had been nearly a year since she had moved in with her grandmother to care for her in her old age, taking over what once was the spare bedroom in the woman’s almost cottage-like dwelling on the edge of the swamp. She had always found her grandmother’s home to be a very cosy space, all tucked away from the main road with vines of jasmine overtaking the outer walls and the gentle sounds of nature always playing in the background. It was peaceful out here by the swamp, and all the fond memories of childhood visits came back to the forefront of her mind as she settled in. Her grandmother’s warning was the same thing it had always been: don’t go into the swamp. Why not, she refused to say, but her granddaughter had always heeded the warning.
Except, the older she got, the harder it became to resist the call.
She hadn’t told anyone about the call, although her grandmother definitely knew something she wasn’t sharing with the rest of the class, so to speak. From the first visit she ever remembered all throughout her childhood, every time she had been to her grandmother’s house she felt the swamp calling to her, beckoning her closer, trying its best to lure her in. It wanted her to get her feet wet, let the water wash over her like an embrace and caress her, to touch her hands to the bark of the great cypress trees. When she was a teenager she started having dreams of the swamp, and even sometimes back home in the city the swamp would call to her in her sleep across all that distance, and whenever she awoke from one of these dreams it left her for the rest of the day with a strange sort of melancholic nostalgia, an almost physical longing for the lazy blink of the lightning bugs reflected in the murky water, unable to stop thinking about the feeling the swampy air left on her skin, the phantom smell of azaleas in her hair every time she turned her head, haunting her with a bone-deep ache, a bone-deep need for the gentle curtains of Spanish moss framing the fringes of her vision and the gentle lap of liquid against her bare skin. The dreams, and the pull to the swamp that accompanied them in her waking hours, left such vivid impressions in her psyche - she could practically feel the sensations of that peacefully eerie scene as if she actually stood at the edge of the water, even all the way back in her air-conditioned bedroom in the city.
She had had the dream every single night since she moved in with her grandmother, and finally the pull toward the swamp grew too strong to ignore. The serene, lethargic pool invited her closer, closer, let me touch you, let me caress you, let me envelop you. Finally one day she lost the battle, unable to resist any longer, and went and rented a canoe to take out on the water while her grandmother laid down for a nap. Tremblingly she put one foot in then the other, the boat rocking slightly as she shifted her weight, and then she took off, not entirely certain of any purpose or goal but to explore, to weave in and out of the cypress trees and listen to the insistent buzz of the cicadas. Some of the Spanish moss hung so low that it tickled the top of her head as she made her way through the trees, her oar making gentle swishing sounds as she dipped it in the water, and the further in she got, the greater grew the sense of peace that descended upon her. Being in the swamp felt so right.
She felt like maybe she should have been concerned when the sounds of cicadas buzzing and wind ruffling the leaves and other little noises stopped altogether, leaving her ears ringing in the silence, but she couldn’t find it in her to be all that worried about the lack of activity; she was content, almost sleepy, and the quiet did not bother her.
Her boat bumped upon land - a little island in the middle of the swamp. Intrigued, she pulled herself all the way onto the shore and disembarked, exploring the place. An alligator sat on a rock, pure black, and when it saw her approaching it stood up and began to walk away; she could have sworn it beckoned with its head for her to follow.
So she did.
It disappeared behind a fallen tree, and when she walked around the whole length of the thing and to the other side a woman-like being of some sort sat atop the trunk, a soft smile on its face.
“You’re late,” it said in a croaking voice, and when it opened its mouth it revealed crooked white alligator teeth. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to keep people waiting?”
It took a while for the spirit’s words to register; she was too busy taking the sight of it in - pitch-black eyes, hair of Spanish moss, skin a rich brown like the soil beneath their feet with arms and legs that became rough and dark with alligator scales, its hands clawed and its feet more reptilian than human, with a thick tail sprouting from its lower back. It was naked, one hand playing idly with the Spanish moss between its legs, muscular arm crushed against a full breast with a dark, erect nipple. She roused herself. “Umm. What?”
“Oh, my darling,” the creature stood and walked with outstretched arms over to her, caressing her cheek with the back of a scaly hand. “Why did it take you so long to answer my call?”
“Y-your call?”
It smiled again, “I know you heard it. I know you received the dreams I sent you. And yet you did not come.”
“That was you?” Her brows furrowed, and she put her own hand atop the one the creature had rested on her cheek.
“It was, my darling,” the spirit confirmed, stroking her cheek with its thumb and bringing its other hand up to her shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for you for quite some time.”
The spirit’s grip was strong, but not necessarily painful, and she swallowed, “Why were you calling me?”
“You never guessed?” It sighed. “Oh, my love . . . ” and it kissed her. Short, sweet, a pause, then again, with its tongue this time, and she groaned into its mouth, entwining her arms around its neck. Its hair was soft and fluffy, claws sending pleasant shivers up her spine as they raked lightly up and down her back, eventually dipping underneath her blouse to avoid snagging the fabric. The soft black scales of its palms were cool and smooth against her skin, dry and silky and gliding so easily down her stomach, down her ribs, pushing down the waistband of her skirt. She gasped for air as the creature took its lips from hers and trailed them, feather-light and teasing, down her jaw and throat, nuzzling its face into the dip of her shoulder, squeezing a nipple between sharpened teeth ever so delicately, the careful pressure sending shivers down her spine and a trembling sigh from her parted lips. Adrenaline burst through her system deliciously, and she tightened her fingers in a fistful of hair in response, almost involuntarily arching up into its mouth. It trailed its claws down her back, ass, thighs, threading through her pubic hair; the pad of one satiny thumb pressed directly on her clit, and she gasped, tears springing to her eyes from the intensity and suddenness of the sensation - she felt the spirit smile on her chest.
“Darling,” it crooned against her sternum, stroking her ass gently as it continued to rub circles into her clit, grinning into her skin as she writhed underneath its ministrations, hands raking through soft strands of Spanish moss. Its other thumb found its way to her suddenly very wet opening, and it laid her down against the fallen tree as it slid in, biting her other tit to her almost whimper-like moan as her eyes fluttered shut. It massaged her entrance for a bit, then jammed two fingers in up to the knuckle, pressing right against her G-spot, and she choked out an even louder moan, chest heaving. She had never blushed this hard - she had never felt this good. Her cheeks throbbed with the rush of blood from her pounding heart as the creature kissed her nipple again softly and relaxed its hand, sliding its fingers in and out of her more slowly, more gently, pressing lazy strokes with the other hand across her lips, over the clitoral hood, through her pubic hair, then back down, back and forth. She swallowed and closed her eyes, writhing against the trunk of the tree, pinned in place by the spirit’s hands, not literally, necessarily, but with the sheer pleasure of it, the overwhelmingly sweet sensation. Its hair was so soft as she ran her fingers through the curly strands of Spanish moss, guiding its head across her throat and breasts trembling and pliant as the rest of her was, wracked by sluggishly moving waves of euphoria, washing in and out, in and out, like the lazy shore of the swamp, like the languid thrusts into her throbbing cunt. It built slowly this time, the creature being more careful and deliberate in its movements, until finally it spilled over like one drop too many dripping into a glass, and she gave a loud cry, arching up off of the tree as she clenched around scaly fingers before her whole body relaxed, come dripping down her leg and the back of the spirit’s hand. It let her catch her breath as the aftershocks washed over her, kissing her breasts and stomach gently as it stroked her thighs, and she slid onto the cool earth with a sigh, running trembling hands down its back as she looked into the sky, fading with the first hint of orange sunset.
“My love,” it sighed again, and she pulled it in for another kiss, stroking the base of its tail as she did so. It groaned into the touch, vibrating against her swollen lips, and before she knew what she was doing she had pushed it onto the ground and spread its legs, diving between them with a little half-growl.
The noises it made were delicious.
She stuck her tongue as deep up its slit as she could get it, scooping up its slick without a care in the world; it tasted like citrus and grass with a kick that made her whole mouth tingle and sent a spark shooting down her throat straight to her clit, making her clench her fingers tighter into smooth dark flesh, and the claws in her hair tightened in response. The little bush of Spanish moss tickled her forehead ever so slightly as she ran her mouth up and down every fold and crease she could get her tongue into, to delightful little croaks and bellows that rumbled down the creature’s torso almost like a purr. Its powerful alligator tail flicked like a twitching nerve, whipping the backs of her legs in a strangely pleasant way as it thrashed back and forth, thumping against the earth with every little whimper that came out of its mouth in between the more beastly sounds it made. When it finished, they sat back in the earth together, her face resting between its breasts, and closed their eyes.
When she awoke, it was morning.
She sat up with a gasp, calling out, “Grandma!”
The spirit sat up to see what was the matter, watching her search frantically for her clothes. “What is it, darling?”
“I only meant to be gone an hour or two, I left my grandmother alone all night!”
It simply watched her as she dressed herself.
The spirit escorted her, hand-in-hand, to where she had left the rented canoe, and as she got in it said, “You must come back soon, my darling.”
“How will I find this place again?” she asked.
“Trust in the water,” the spirit smiled. “My magic will guide you. I will see you soon, my love.”
“Goodbye,” she smiled back, and it kissed her one last time before pushing her boat into the water.
She thought, occasionally, that she saw a black alligator surface alongside the boat.
When she got home, her grandmother was at the table drinking coffee, a shawl pulled around her shoulders. “There you are!” she said as she caught sight of her granddaughter. “Where in the world have you been, young lady? You were gone when I woke up from my nap, and you didn’t come home for dinner.”
“I’m sorry, Grandma,” she sighed. “I didn’t mean to be out that long.”
“You didn’t go into the swamp, did you?”
Silence.
“Did you?”
A very quiet, “Yes.”
Her grandmother sighed through her nose, a long sigh, and took a sip of coffee.
“What do you know about the swamp, Grandma? Why don’t you want me to go near it?”
“Sit down,” the old woman gestured, and her granddaughter obeyed. She gathered her thoughts, then began, “I suppose it’s about time I tell you this. You see, when I was a girl, my older sister had a friend who was fascinated by the swamp. She told us she felt as if the swamp was calling to her. We all told her not to go in the swamp, our parents told her not to go in the swamp, it was dangerous, she could get lost, she could drown, she could get eaten by an alligator, she could get her boat caught on something and get stuck and be unable to call for help. But she didn’t listen. She went often into the swamp; at first it was only for an hour or two at a time, but then she started disappearing for longer stretches of time, even a few days, and eventually one day she went into the swamp and just . . . never came back. People went out searching for her, but they never found her, no living girl, no body, not even her boat. Eventually they pronounced her dead, although we never came to a satisfactory conclusion on what had happened to her; it was like she had ceased to exist altogether. My sister was convinced that the call she heard came from the spirit of the swamp, and that her friend had been killed by this swamp fairy. But we’ll never know. But what I do know is that the swamp is dangerous, and I don’t want to lose you like we lost that girl.”
It was silent for a bit.
“What did you see in the swamp?”
“Nothing,” she shrugged, her heart beating faster at the lie. “Water and trees and Spanish moss.”
“No swamp fairies?”
She laughed. “I’m going to go take a shower.”
“All right, dearie.”
So she did.
The very next day, she left to go take a walk while her grandmother was visiting with a friend and wandered back to where she had left the canoe, bringing it again to the water’s edge. Trust in the water, the spirit had said. So she let the boat go with the languid current, and she found her way again to the island, and there the creature was, waiting for her.
“My darling,” it smiled with open arms, greeting her with a gratuitous kiss. She began to speak, but it shushed her, taking her by the hands and leading her to a bed of soft moss, laying her down to a peal of sweet kisses, unbuttoning her shirt as it went. Its sharp-toothed grin at the discovery that she wore nothing underneath sent her heart aflutter, and she sighed at is ran its fangs teasingly along her tit, swirling its tongue around her nipple and hiking her skirt up to her stomach to reveal her bare pussy ready and waiting; it flicked her clit eagerly, and she sighed again, bringing a hand up to tug softly at the creature’s nipple as her eyes fluttered closed.
It bit her breast, clenching its jaws just barely not tight enough to break the skin, but tight enough to sting deliciously and push a little whimpering moan past her lips as it swung one leg over her hip, smooth reptile armour sliding sensually across her bare flesh. It did the same to her other tit, then licked into her mouth with a fury that made her groan in earnest as it rocked softly against her, causing a delightful friction between their legs, and they bounced softly in the springy moss. She threaded her fingers through the spirit’s hair and hooked one leg around its back, on top of its tail, teasing its scaly ass with her foot as it crushed her breasts against its palms. They were both dripping with pleasure at this point, their slick making everything slide together so deliciously as the creature’s tail went thump, thump against the ground, those same croaking bellows rumbling pleasantly in its throat and chest, almost soothing, especially paired with the way they rocked back and forth. It refused to take its mouth from hers, not that she would have let it go, her hands tangled tightly in the Spanish moss of its hair, and everything turned slow and warm.
They came at the same time, then the creature relaxed on top of her, its head on her heaving breasts, and she reached a trembling hand up to stroke its hair as they caught their breaths together, the creature’s tail still softly twitching against her legs.
Eventually she piped up, “Do you have a name?”
“I have many names and no name,” the spirit shrugged, sitting up and getting off of her to allow her to do the same. “I am simply the swamp,”
“Well, that’s fancy,” she laughed, hugging her knees to her chest. “What does that mean?”
The spirit shrugged again. “You could call me after the swamp, I suppose, but the essence that is this being you see was never given a name.”
“Could I give you a name?”
“If you like,” it smiled, pulling her in for a kiss, smooth scales sliding around her waist. “But do we need names?”
“Hmm,” it had successfully distracted her with those claws trailing lightly across her ribs - but not entirely. “My grandmother knew a girl who disappeared into the swamp,” she said. “Do you know what happened to her?” and she told the story.
The creature sighed through its nose, stroking its own thigh as it thought.
“Do you know where she is?”
“I do,” it smiled. “She is me.”
“What?”
“A part of me, at least.”
“What do you mean she’s a part of you?”
The creature pulled her into its lap, threading its reptilian fingers through her hair as she relaxed into it. “Every hundred years or so, I must renew my powers, or the swamp may falter.”
“How do you renew your powers?”
“I must absorb a willing life into my own.”
“Like . . . you kill them?”
“No,” it shook its head. “We merge our essences into one, and she becomes one with the swamp, another piece of the composite being that I am. The girl your grandmother knew, she lives on, in a way. Her legacy of preserving this magic is her survival, even if she no longer exists in a form recognisable as her. When you look at me, my darling, you look into the eyes of the swamp itself, shining with the light of thousands of women who loved it enough to dedicate their lives to it.”
She pondered for a beat, indeed studying the spirit’s pitch-black eyes. “Will you do that to me?”
“If you like,” it winked. “But it won’t be necessary for me to do so for another few years; your grandmother’s friend will sustain the swamp for a little while longer.”
“Okay,” she reached up to push its hair out of its face. “So, why did you call me, then?”
It chuckled softly “Why do you think, my love?” and it pulled her in for a kiss.
It felt so nice, the slide of its scales against her bare skin, the keen drag of alligator teeth along her throat, the tail thumping against her legs as it pushed her down on her back again and dove between her thighs like a prayer, that guttural growl vibrating directly against her clit and making her moan, unabashed, unashamed, uninhibited, just pure pleasure in the moment and not another care in the world. They made such pretty music together, the two of them, little wet sounds of its tongue slipping in and out of her cunt and her soft moans set against the backing track of its rumbling bellows. It pinned her in place with scaly hands, claws digging lightly into the flesh of her stomach, and she hiked one leg up over the creature’s shoulder, rocking up into its impossibly soft lips, her own dull fingers grasping for purchase on the spongy moss, eyes closed in bliss. Her cheeks felt so warm, next to the cool of its scales, her rapid heartbeat throbbing in her face, her bits, her tits, and before she knew what was happening she was clenching around its tongue with a loud cry, then she deflated, going limp like a wet rag, breasts trembling weakly as she caught her breath, reaching a shaky hand up to rest on the head of the spirit which migrated up her torso with a trail of sticky kisses, pinching one nipple delicately between its teeth.
Then suddenly its breasts were in her face, and she opened her mouth like an obedient toddler, sucking softly at woody flesh which tasted of salt and grass and something almost smoky, those claws running encouragingly down her cheeks and shoulders.
“Oh, my darling,” the spirit breathed, rocking gently as it straddled her hips.
Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed. The whole world was just the two of them on this island in the middle of the swamp, embracing each other as the lightning bugs slowly began to blink to life against the setting sun.
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those wano fights are so good, but I don't want to "finish" one piece, aaaahhhh
496 words.
wano spoilers, no pronouns used, fluff, mentions of violence.
"If both of us make it out of this alive... I want you to marry me", you said. Your back against the ship's railing, your nails digging into the white wood as you bit your lip. Law felt the air catch in his throat, turning his face to you with impressive speed.
Onigashima was already on the horizon, the skull's lights illuminating you and your hair blowing in the rebellious sea breeze. Everyone on the deck stared at you, but you didn't care. Nothing else mattered. That was all you needed to say at that moment, just your purest feelings.
Trafalgar tightened the hilt of his sword, the red cord gently brushing against his flushed cheek. He wanted to say many things, to say he would marry you right then and there if necessary, but at the same time, how you didn't need to get married because his feelings transcended human conceptions of defining a relationship, how he wished he had made this proposal first, how he wouldn't let anything bad happen to you.
"We won't die", you smiled upon hearing your lover's words. Maybe no one around you understood why he was so cold, but you did, and that was all that mattered.
Then that blinding light came towards you, and all you felt was pain. At the top of the island, your body lay on the ground after an exhaustive attempt to protect Luffy. Slowly, your senses returned, your adrenaline rush fading and reminding you of all your wounds bleeding on the rocks.
Zoro lay right in front of you, his body motionless except for his chest rising and falling erratically. You turned your body with difficulty, something unraveled loudly in the direction of where the attack came from. You could feel the waves of Haki coursing through the place with a dangerously palpable sensation, returning the pain that resided in your bones.
When you finally managed to lie on your back, you saw Law kneeling right by your side. The light from the battle reflected on his skin, traveling inside his golden irises like liquid gold, surprised by the capabilities of your savior. His split lips mumbled something, too distracted to notice you were awake next to him.
You moved your hand to touch him, your pained groan snapped him out of his trance. His large tattooed hands grabbed yours, gently bringing them to his mouth, where he kissed each of your fingers with his dry and cracked lips.
"As soon as these two fall, you and I will become one, do you understand me?", there was urgency in his voice to assure you of this because he truly believed it. You understood why, especially when Luffy's voice became clearer in your ears.
"As soon as we get out of this, I'm going to marry you", you were surprised, but you didn't even have time to give a response as Law picked you up in his arms and rushed to help Zoro.
He didn't need a response, especially when he was so sure.
hey, if you like my work, please consider buying me a coffee.
#zombiedumbie writing#one piece#one piece x reader#trafalgar d law#trafalgar d water law#law one piece#one piece fanfic#law fanfic#law x reader#one piece x you#law x you#one piece fluff#law fluff#trafalgar law fluff
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Analysis of the Food/Diet of the Lower Class in the Victorian era
(It was a bit tricky for me to find sufficiently detailed answers about the time and group I was looking for, as I wanted a bit more than the basics. Apologies for any mistakes)
Bread was a staple of the lower-class diet, such as wholemeal, rye bread, unleavened bread (like oatcakes), etc.. For the poor, it was often made of cheap-quality flour and likely denser than modern bread.
These could be supplemented with whatever vegetables that were cheapest as well as locally available at that time of year. Onions were among the cheapest (half penny for a dozen, cheaper if they were bruised) and available all year. They were more expensive in late spring, at which point they could be substituted by leeks. Watercress was another cheap staple (halfpenny for 4 bunches from April to January/February) and were regularly eaten at breakfast. Cabbage was cheap and easily available, along with broccoli, with lettuce and radishes available in summer. Carrots and turnips were inexpensive staples, especially in winter, and they along with cabbage were often used in stews and soups.
As for fruit, apples were the cheapest and most commonly available (from August to May). Cherries were also fairly cheap (from May to July). Pears, blackberries, and plums were available throughout autumn. Then there were gooseberries, plums and greengages (in late September), raspberries, and strawberries. Not all fruits were affordable, like oranges, which were imported from Spain in winter but were expensive and often given as gifts, and pineapples, which were a sign of wealth.
Potatoes were another staple and were prepared in various ways, including boiled, mashed, roasted, or fried. They grew well in Britain’s mild weather, making them easy to produce and sell, meaning they were cheap and thus became a frequent meal.
In terms of meat, the lower class ate it infrequently, maybe once a week, with the worst off even less often. Pork was 1 of the most common types of meat, when it could be afforded.
As a result, the poor made the most of it (using and eating every part of it). For example, a cook would boil a piece of beef or mutton with vegetables one day (probably Sunday, the only day many people had off from work), then return to the boiling pot the next day and skim the fat off from the top to be used for frying or pie crusts. Then he or she could set the liquid back to boiling, adding a stingy amount of oatmeal (one recipe recommends a tablespoon of oatmeal for every pint of liquid) to produce another nourishing meal from the broth. Recipes call it a pot liquor soup; we’d more likely call it gruel.
Gruel, made by boiling grains, like oats, rice, or barley, in water or milk, was a common food option for the poor as it required minimal ingredients and was easy to prepare. It often served as a breakfast or basic meal.
Porridge refers to a thicker and more substantial version of cooked grains, usually oats, in water or milk. It was typically cooked for a longer amount of time, resulting in a creamier and heartier consistency. It was also a popular breakfast choice due to it being nutritious and filling.
They tended to buy cuts and trimmings of meat no one else wanted, which were referred to as “block ornaments”. Examples included sheep’s organs, shanks, gristly bits, and heads. Most of these cuts were tough or didn’t have much meat on them, but they could produce a filling broth. Tripe (lining of stomach of animals like cattle, sheep, and pig), liver, meat on the bone (shin or cheek), and offal (aka organ meats like brains, hearts, sweetbreads, liver, kidneys, lungs, and intestines) were also cheap.
Chicken was rare, as the birds were kept for eggs, and usually not eaten unless the bird stopped laying eggs.
Later in the Victorian era, bacon became a popular choice at breakfast (alongside kippers aka a type of fish made from herring, eggs, and porridge).
Drippings was another common part of the lower class diet. Drippings refer to the fat that is collected as a result of cooking meat. When meat, such as beef, pork, or poultry, is roasted or grilled, the fat present in the meat melts and drips down into the pan or tray. This fat is then collected and saved, typically in a container or jar, for later use. They add flavor and richness to dishes and are commonly used for making gravies, sauces, or to enhance the flavor of roasted vegetables, as a few examples.
Since meat was a luxury, the lower class tended to go for cheaper proteins, like eggs and legumes.
Many East End homes kept hens in their backyards, with a couple hens able to produce up to a dozen eggs per home per week. Hard cheeses like cheddar was produced countrywide and so available all year round, meaning it was able to enter the diet of the lower class. It was a good protein, kept well, and even stale it could be eaten toasted with bread.
Regarding legumes (ex: beans, peas, peanuts, lentils, etc…), they were a cost-effective source of protein, fiber, and nutrients. Dried legumes were more affordable and available all year round. Beans (good from July to September) were a staple for many lower class, often cooked in stews, soups, or baked dishes. Peas (affordable from June to July) and lentils were also commonly consumed.
In terms of drinks, tea was very common. It became more affordable with the help of increased trade, improved transportation, and advancements in production methods. The poor drank tea that tended to be weaker, as they reused the tea leaves several times before disposing of them. Black tea was common, the most popular being those imported from countries like China and India.
Milk was widely consumed but not usually in large quantities, due to cost and adulteration fears (aka fear of contamination). Beer was also common (made with low alcohol content so you didn’t get drunk), even for women and older children, as water wasn’t safe to drink back them (easily contaminated, but the brewing process killed off the germs). Coffee was another option, but it tended to be more expensive than tea, beer, or milk.
Sugar became cheaper at least after 1874, but still tended to be relatively expensive, especially for those on lower incomes. Thus it remained more of a luxury item and consumed in mostly smaller quantities or for special occasions.
Butter, like sugar, would’ve also been considered a relatively expensive item, and thus not as widely consumed. Instead, they used cheaper options of fat, like lard and dripping.
Nuts were another slightly more expensive item. But there were some options if a poorer individual could afford them. Chestnuts were the most common (favorite street snack in chestnut season, running from September to January). There were also filberts and hazelnuts (available from October to May) and walnuts (seasonal). Imported almonds and brazil nuts were more expensive, but commonly consumed around Christmas as a “treat”.
Even if they could afford things like sugar, butter, or nuts, the lower class likely would’ve typically used their income on more basic necessities and things they needed for their job or life.
Individuals were paid on Saturday, and that plus the absence of refrigeration affected the weekly menu. It’s possible the lower class at least may have possessed basic cooking utensils, like a skillet, pot, or kettle. The ‘best’ and relatively most expensive meals were taken on Saturday evening and Sunday, though the poorest would often buy food at the end of Saturday trading, at the cheapest possible prices. Menu choices became cheaper through the week: purchases of food would diminish in quantity as the food budget shrank, and meat would often only be purchased once a week, though vegetables and fruit were usually purchased and consumed on a daily basis.
The very poor might purchase cheaper older fruits, vegetables, and meat on the verge of edibility, though this didn’t really diminish the nutrients in them much.
The lack of refrigeration facilities meant that meats eaten hot on any one day were almost inevitably consumed (cold) on the second day. Any more leftovers were, due to incipient spoilage, curried or hashed on the third day. Spices and the higher heat involved in frying the hash would disguise any taint to the meat and lessen the chances of food poisoning.
Men worked on average 9–10 hours per day for 5.5-6 days a week, giving a range from 50–60 hours of physical activity per week. Factoring in the walk to and from work increases the range of total hours of work-related physical activity up to 55–70 hours per week. They likely required around 5000 calories a day.
The daily wage for poor miners back then may have been around 3-4 shillings, with the weekly wage then around 18-24 shillings. In dollars, 3-4 shillings was likely around $1. In today’s money, 3-4 shillings a day may be around £4 to £5 or $5 to $6.
#idv#identity v#norton campbell#prospector#fool's gold#fools gold#hunter norton#idv norton#identity v norton#idv prospector#identity v prospector#idv fool's gold#identity v fool's gold#idv fools gold#identity v fools gold#sirenjose analyses and theories
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Thank you @thats-one-cool-dude for this commission, inspired by itsxroxannex's amazing art. Nothing quite like Nightmare himself <3
---
... You were in a dream.
The realisation hit you, the moment you became aware of yourself and your surroundings. Ironically, it felt like you had just ‘woken up’- snapping back to reality. But you couldn’t have been more conscious of the fact that this reality wasn’t yours.
You still felt like you were dreaming. Partly. It was hard to think, there was still that signature disconnect between your head and your body. And yet... you could feel things you didn’t normally feel in a dream, sensations that were usually either muted or entirely gone. Was this what lucid dreaming felt like? You'd never been able to do that before. You’d never woken up, and immediately known with every fibre of your being that you weren’t really ‘awake’.
... You looked up. There was a small table before you, draped in a spotless white cloth, and decorated by a single lit candle. Very gentle piano drifted through the air, jazzy and slow, like you were in the middle of a nice restaurant... two chairs pulled up on either side of the table.
... Someone occupied one of the chairs.
He was a skeleton. A tall skeleton, his bones were slick and dark, bluish black as a midnight sky, with the faintest iridescent sheen like the shimmer on a bubble or an oil spill. He looked as if he were made of tar. A clean smile of ice white teeth... one eye, a powerful, electric cyan blue, the other socket covered by that same tar-ish substance.
... He was wearing a suit. You didn’t expect that. A nice suit, it outlined him well, it made him look well-proportioned and tidy. Somehow, the liquid of his body didn’t stain the white cuffs or collar. Dream logic? You had no clue.
Were this any other situation, you probably wouldn’t have reacted as... calmly. But because you were in asleep, your mind felt far more forgiving of the bizarreness of the situation. Sure, a skeleton with inky bones and one glowing eye was waiting for you at a table set up like a date. Why not? You'd had weirder dreams.
That, and...
... Well, his face looked so... gentle. He simply stared at you, with a low smile, like you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. The candlelight flickered against him... he had a nice face. Strong curved cheekbones, a pretty defined jaw. His skull was handsome in a regal, timeless sort of way.
Your cheeks felt hot.
“ah. finally.” His voice was silky, low, and dark. Very pleasant to listen to, and exactly the kind of voice you expected to hear from a creature that looked like him. “i thought you’d never sleep.”
... You looked down at yourself. You were dressed for a date- an outfit you definitely didn’t normally wear.
“... come on, now. don’t be shy. i’ve been waiting for you.” He said, sweetly, patiently. “come sit with me.”
...
Well. It was just a dream, right? So you had nothing to lose. You shuffled over to the table, sitting down opposite him. His grin lifted, the flickering candle played with the shadows on his face... the gentle piano continued.
“i’m sans.” He shifted his elbows onto the table. The black parts of his suit, although it was clearly fabric, very faintly had the same iridescent sheen as his bones. “don’t worry, i already know your name.”
“... You do?” You asked. Was that something you needed to worry about?
He chuckled. The sound was handsome. “of course. it’s only a dream, right?”
“... Oh. Yes, right.”
Remembering that this was a lucid dream gave you a strange sense of... confidence. It made your chest puff up a little, it brought your hands out of their curled position on your lap, the anxieties you usually always carried finally melting off. Warm confidence flooded your system- he was right. You didn’t have to be embarrassed, or scared, did you? This was your dream, wasn’t it? You could do whatever you liked. Man, lucid dreaming was great.
‘Sans’ gained a slight twinkle to his beautiful blue eye. He kept looking at you like you were everything- it was making you feel warm. Important.
“i know it’s a boring question. but do tell; how was your day?”
“... Slow.” You replied. He had such a nice face. This was a nice dream. “Very slow.”
A knowing look. “sometimes a slow day is better than a frantic one.”
... You let out a little laugh. He leaned a fraction closer to you. “Yeah, I guess. I’d take a slow day over the kinds of days I normally get.”
“what would a normal day be, for you?”
“Like you said. Frantic.” He had instantly put you at ease. His dulcet tones, his impeccable sense of dress, his gentle aura... despite the fact that you were having a conversation with a skeleton, it felt like you were talking to an old friend. “I work a lot. Then on my few days off, it feels like I’m so exhausted I have no energy to spend on anything other than recovery. It sucks.”
“i think you aren’t alone in feeling like that. today is far too fast-paced.”
There was suddenly a wine glass in front of him. And in front of you, too. An expensive-looking bottle beside the candle, in the middle of the table- Sans picked up the bottle, offering it to you.
“shall i pour you something?” He asked, invitingly.
... You paused. “I... don’t really know if I should...”
“come on now.” He purred. “it’s a dream, right? you won’t have a hangover. when will there ever be a better time to have something to drink?”
“... Pft.” You felt... kinda silly for saying no. “Oh, alright then. I guess you’re right.”
Sans grinned. He poured you a generous serving, the liquid was a beautiful tyrian purple, and once he stopped pouring the candlelight in the wine made it appear as if your entire glass was filled with ruby. He filled up his own glass as well. It was good wine, too, it was exactly to your taste.
“... What is this, by the way?”
“... wine?”
“No, this.” You gestured around. “Are we on a date right now?”
“of course.” He placed his glass down and chuckled. Sans had such a warm gaze, despite the cold blue colour of his eye. It almost looked... adoring? He hadn’t stopped staring at you since the moment you woke up in this dream.
“Why?”
“because you’re wonderful.” He knitted his fingers together, using them as a cradle for his head. The ends of his phalanges looked sharp. “and i think you deserve a good date. none of those terrible, thoughtless outings you’ve been on recently.”
“How do you know I’ve been on dates?” You asked, but teasingly, drinking a bit more. Of course he knew, this was your dream. His eye flickered to your lips as they touched the rim of the glass, but they returned to your own eyes so fast you couldn’t tell if you really saw the movement at all.
“those fools don’t know what they’re doing. who tries to take someone back to their parents’ house on a first date?” He looked like he still couldn’t believe it. “despicable.”
You snickered at that one. Who wouldn’t?
“They weren’t so bad.” You said, softly. “Rough around the edges, sure. But they meant well.”
He leaned a little closer again. Every time you laughed, he seemed unable to stop himself from drawing nearer. The space was getting more and more intimate.
“you’ll realise how terrible they were when i show you how good dates can be.”
“I’m sorry, but...” You traced the rim of your glass. “am I going to get any more context on who you are? Or are you just too mysterious?”
“i’m nobody important.” He said, reaching the wine bottle across the table again and refilling said glass. “i haven’t any ulterior motives, dear, if that’s what you’re afraid of. i just want to get to know you.”
... You liked the way he said ‘dear’. It made you feel warm again. You swirled the wine around the glass, admiring the strange colour- huh, funny. Even though this was a dream, you could still feel that familiar sensation of being tipsy.
“... This is nice.”
“yes.” He murmured, gazing at you through a lidded socket. “it is.”
“I don’t really want to wake up.”
His eyelight flashed.
“... now. don’t go saying things like that, dear. someone might think you’re serious.”
///---///
You woke up with a lovely, soft, cosy feeling. Right down to your core. Far from your usual stuffy, too hot/too cold awakenings, the bed felt like a pair of arms around you- a comfortable pair of arms that made the thought of just closing your eyes and slipping back to sleep again all the more appealing.
...
You rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling. Morning light was seeping through the curtains; as nice as it sounded, you couldn’t really go back to sleep right now. The day was starting.
... You could almost still taste the wine. You almost felt like its fuzzy warming effect was still thrumming through your body. And, in your mind’s eye, you could still see him- looking at you, smiling, like you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.
“i just want to get to know you.”
...
... Sans, huh?
///---///
“hello again, dear.”
The same feelings of ‘waking up’. The same knowledge you were dreaming. And, when you opened your eyes... the same skeleton in front of you.
No suit, this time. Just normal clothes, all toned as black as his bones, sharing his faint iridescence.
... This dream wasn't set at a table. It was on a sunny street corner, in a musical-looking city, bright blue sky and quaint cafes surrounding you, bicycles and colourful pedestrians and trees on every inch of available pavement. People busied past both of you, like you weren’t even there- like there was nothing strange about a large, ink-black skeleton holding the hand of a bewildered human.
... Holding your hand. You blinked, looking down... his midnight claws were entwined with your fingers.
You looked back up at his face. “Sans?”
He grinned, evidently delighted you recalled his name. There was so much you didn’t know, in his eye, so much he understood but you didn’t.
“surprised to see me? i said you i’d take you on more dates, didn’t i?”
Yes. You were very surprised. It took you a few moments to gather the words, mouth opening and closing again, dumbly.
“... I-I just... it was a dream.” You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. “My dreams don’t normally...”
“repeat?” He squeezed your hand gently, brushing his thumb over the back of your palm. “perhaps they do. perhaps they just weren’t worth remembering before now.”
You flushed at the casual touch. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”
“well." He tilted his skull. "are you the good kind of surprised, dear?”
Again, yes. But you didn’t seem to need to say it, judging by the delighted softness his smile took on.
“... Where are we?”
“you're so cute. paris.” He replied, amiably. “i took the liberty of finding the nicest looking side. it’s a charming city, certainly... but not all of it is this pretty.”
“... I never thought I’d...”
“... be able to go?” His voice was a disarming, lulling purr. “i told you. i want to take you on real dates. we can go anywhere you want- anywhere at all. time and distance are no issue.”
“Why?”
“i said so before. i just want to get to know you.”
... You looked around. At the beautiful streets. You could hear people talking, smell baked goods and coffee. It was so romantic... so unlike anywhere you’d ever been.
...
“Could... we go somewhere high up, when the sun goes down?” You asked. “To see the lights?”
... A small laugh left his chest. Like your question had an incredibly obvious answer.
“... of course we can.”
///---///
Sans, whoever he was... he was quickly becoming a staple of your life.
He kept his promise. He took you on dates. Wonderful ones, hopelessly romantic ones- strolls through starlit woods, picnics on hills overlooking the ocean, scenic boat rides through canals and rivers alike, city tours that felt so impossibly vivid and real despite the fact that your feet never ached. Various delightful places across the world you were certain you’d never be able to visit in your own reality.
... Sans was charming. Charming in a sophisticated, cultured way, he had that lifted air to him that made you feel so important when he seemed to so much enjoy listening to what you were saying. He spoke sweetly, he was effortlessly funny, he knew precisely how to make you unwind. He already knew more about you than most people in your life.
Though you still knew nothing about him.
You’d never been so well-slept. Your dreams were starting to become your favourite place. Why wouldn’t they? Nobody in the waking world treated you so kindly. There was nowhere else where you felt so consistently cared for, listened to. If you ate together, you would wake up not hungry anymore. If you drank, you would feel the faint buzz even after your eyes opened.
... And you always felt warm.
...
You hadn’t researched Sans until now. There was just... something that felt prying about it? You had no reason to think that way. Today was the day you were going to try and find out something about your nightly visitor.
... It was worth researching. Dreams that recurred that often probably had meaning, right?
A few google searches wouldn’t hurt.
///---///
You saw him again the next night. Because of course you did.
... It was a much simpler setting than usual. Sans usually took you to places that would take your breath away... here, it was just a park bench in a flower garden.
“morning.” He said, with a teasing lilt to his voice. “how was your day?”
You sat down beside him. Your heart was starting to beat faster. “... Could I talk to you about something?”
He paused. Only for a moment. It seemed like... he could sense your apprehension.
“... oh. of course.”
“I... did some research today.”
A flicker of something in his face. He covered it quickly. “the fun kind of research?”
“Research about dreams. And nightmares.” You fiddled with your hands, looking anywhere but him. “It took some digging. But I found something eventually. Old legends, really old, about a being that can enter people’s minds while they sleep and influence what they dream about. A skeleton with black bones.”
...
“... interesting.”
“... A lot of stuff was different. Like... tentacles, ‘evil’ energy, making people have night terrors so bad they’d give themselves insomnia to avoid sleeping. But, I mean... a skeleton with black bones that enters people’s minds while they sleep?”
... Sans had gone quiet. You glanced at him.
“Are you... uh... are you ‘Nightmare’?”
...
As you held his blue eye, a strange sensation fell over you.
It was like... you had come home, and a door you were certain you left closed was wide open. The feeling of staring into a room and knowing, just knowing, there was someone in there that shouldn’t be there.
An interloper.
His face... suddenly didn’t look quite as inviting.
...
Had he always been that big?
...
“i see.” He said, softly.
...
Then you were awake. Staring blankly at your ceiling.
You didn’t feel warm. Not at all.
///---///
It was a normal dream, at first. A busy room full of people you didn’t recognise, a nonsensical list of reasons you had to be there that only made sense because your higher thought functions were locked away. Your head felt as though it were stuffed full of sand, and you had little care in the world aside from the base anxieties your brain was projecting onto the scene before you. A test, a missed train, you couldn't even recall.
A normal dream.
...
Something in the corner of your eye flickered. A shadow, moving the wrong way.
...
Just like that, you were aware.
The hair on the back of your neck prickled, the faces around you blurred and unfocused. You felt... singled out. Alone. A real person, in a room full of mannequins.
... You could tell he was there. You'd had enough dreams with him to know when he was nearby. But you couldn't see him- you turned around, only the rest of your dream behind you. But you could feel it... he was in there with you.
"... Sans?" You said.
... Nothing.
Your voice wobbled. “Are you... are you there?”
Silence.
...
“Nightmare?”
“no.” He said, softly, right in your ear. You jumped- it sounded as if he was standing behind you. “do not call me that.”
You didn’t turn around. Something told you there was a reason he was remaining out of view. “... Why did you disappear?”
He hissed. “i never wanted it to be like this.”
“Like... this?”
“it should’ve stayed a dream. it was never meant to be real.”
...
Your gaze dropped to the floor. The carpet, a product of your sleeping mind, repeated itself over and over.
... You suddenly felt... stupid. For a lot of reasons- but mostly for letting yourself feel hurt by that.
What did you think was going to happen, getting so attached to a random guy in your dreams that did little more than take you on a few pretty looking dates and say a few sweet words? All he had to do was feign interest in what you said, and you were like a fish on a hook. Idiot.
You wanted to wake up.
...
Hands pressed against your shoulders.
“ ... that’s not what i meant.” His voice was a lot softer, suddenly. Softer than you'd ever heard it before- softer, even than your 'first date'.
It was your turn to not respond.
“dear.” It felt like he wanted you to turn around, now. You didn’t. “i promise that’s not what i meant.”
When you spoke, your voice was sullen. This was the end of your nice dreams, wasn't it? “... What else could you possibly mean by that?”
He didn’t let go of your shoulders. “i... it was...”
... Him needing a moment to speak... it didn't exactly cheer you up, but it made you return to the moment a little. It made you listen. You were so used to him knowing exactly what to say at any given moment, silken words coming so easily- the fact that he needed time to gather his thoughts made what he was about to say seem a bit more genuine.
“... the waking world is so complicated.” He finally said. “dreams... are the escape. i didn’t want this to be complicated.”
...
“... Complicated.” Your tone had significantly eased. He wasn’t wrong. Things had definitely become more complicated, as soon as you brought the real world in.
“i wanted to see you.” His hands moved, from your shoulders to your torso. “i wanted to know you, but i didn’t... want you to have to think. i just wanted to be a dream, for you, someone you could escape to. i wanted to be a good dream for once.”
You didn’t reply. He was convincing. But you didn’t even know if you believed him.
“... don’t wake up.” He murmured. You felt his face press to the back of your head... his arms tucked around your middle.
“I don’t know if I can trust you.” You said. “I don’t know anything about you.”
“i didn’t want you to be afraid of me.”
“Should I be?”
“no.” Instantly, breathlessly. Like he couldn’t believe you asked that. “no, of course not.”
...
You sighed.
“What’re you willing to tell me?”
“whatever you ask.”
... It was an interesting way of wording it. You didn’t miss the specificity- whatever you asked him, he would answer. But volunteering information seemed beyond him for now.
“we should go somewhere. to talk.” He offered. “where do you want to go?”
You paused.
...
“Well. How about... somewhere you want to go, this time?”
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baby's breath | 8
↠ summary: Merely by coincidence, Erwin, your father's former friend had crossed paths with you again after nearly a decade. He offered solace once finding out you were struggling with not just school, but your home life as well. His home he shared with another one of your father's friends, Levi, became a sanctuary. Though, the more you came over for study sessions, the more they wiggled themselves into your private life. And like baby's breath, they weeded themselves in so deep you couldn't uproot them.
↠ word count: 4,157
↠ pairing: levi ackerman x reader x erwin smith
↠ genre/warnings: angst, smut, modern au, DARK CONTENT, yandere, daddy kink, forced infantilism, pet play, age gap, drowning. NSFW (spanking, fingering, restraints)
“Are you satisfied with yourself?”
Smoke plumed from the cigarette hanging from his lips. Nicotine clung to the air around you. On the other side of the bathtub, Levi sat with one arm sprawled on the rim and the other coming to pinch the cigarette betwixt his fingers.
The question was rhetorical.
Your teeth sunk into the pink rubber of the bone gag that had been forced into your mouth. Steam floated up from the water and stung your already bleary eyes. Sniveling, you tried to convey your hatred in your glare.
Levi lazily met your gaze. He didn’t care as you hugged your knees to your chest, refusing to touch him in the crowded tub. You attempted to shift your hips to take pressure off your stinging butt.
For some reason, you stupidly believed Levi wouldn’t touch you again. That fell on you and your ignorance. Despite him saying he didn’t like punishing you or in general, he still dished it out. And this time, he seemed to have fun humiliating you.
Taking another puff of the cigarette, he leaned his head back, the slope of his muscular neck on display as he blew the smoke up into the air. The adam’s apple bobbed as he sighed.
“You never know when to quit, do you?” He muttered.
Tilting his head back down, he stared at you from across the water. His legs were bent so his knees peaked out from the water, but had them spread enough that his ankles bracketed your own.
You kept your focus on his collarbones and not at the fact you could see everything in the clear liquid. It rippled from you curling in yourself further. How you wanted to reach behind you and tear off the irritating gag, but you didn’t want Levi to hit you again. So you ticked your jaw and refused to give him any response besides shooting daggers at him.
“Hate me all you want, but you’re the one that got yourself in this mess.”
3 HOURS EARLIER
To say you were on edge the next day after trying to signal to the neighbor’s would be an understatement. You had prayed that Levi or Erwin forgot about you and let you rot in the cage, but of course they were attentive towards their pet.
Erwin had to leave for work, but he wanted to see you off before attending to his academic duties and whatever awful things he did after. From the beginning of your stay, you were in the dark about what Levi and Erwin exactly did that caused them to need to keep people in line or specifically girls. Though whatever it was, you had an inkling it had to do with Erwin being able to kidnap at least another girl before you with ease and under the radar.
Visiting your room, Erwin bent down and unlocked you from the crate. Grabbing your arm, he ripped you from your only false sense of privacy.
“You’ll be a good girl today, right?” He smiled down at you, but you could hear the threat from a mile away.
Your knees still ached and had slight bruising. When you didn’t answer, Erwin gripped both your upper arms and bent down more so his face’s right with yours.
“Right?” He asked, again.
Calculating your response, you didn’t stray away from his obvious intimidation tactic. “… Right.”
Freeing your arm from his grip, he patted your head, satisfied. Subtly, you flexed and unflexed your hand repeatedly to get blood flow back to the limb.
“See you later, Princess.”
Throughout the whole interaction, Levi had leaned against the door frame, observing. Arms crossed, he stationed himself like a guard dog ready to pounce.
Erwin said his goodbyes to the other man as well and off he went, leaving you two alone. And so the pattern repeated.
Levi mostly left you alone, but within eyesight. When it was time to eat though, you refused to. What transpired yesterday haunted you. You sincerely didn’t think you could eat without throwing up.
Sitting at the table, you stared at the food before you Levi had made. As much as it smelled good with an assortment of spices, you had to hold off the nausea. Pushing it away from you, you kept your head down.
“Eat.”
Shaking your head, you dared not to see the face he made. Surprisingly, besides lecturing you once, Levi let you be. Once he finished, he came over and took your plate.
This continued for three days.
You barely ate and Levi didn’t force you to. Luckily, Erwin had been coming home late in the night, way past the time to wrangle you on his lap and force feed you again.
But your luck had run out.
Around six o’clock the locks twisted open. Deja vu gripped your system as you sat within the living room and watched Erwin come into the house. This time, he had a more chipper demeanor to him. You don’t know what scared you more.
Levi setting down two plates on the table were gunshots. You would take eating out of a bowl on the floor any day over this.
“Princess, come eat.” That was the bullet.
As if sensing your flighty disposition, Erwin walked into the living room and picked you up.
“Let me go!” You screeched and wiggled.
He squeezed you so tight you thought your eyes were going to pop out of your head.
“Don’t be difficult.”
“Don’t be a dick,” You barked, punching his arms to let go of you.
“Language,” The large man seethed, and walked towards the table.
Arms tight around your waist, you kicked up your free legs to plant your feet on the edge. Pushing against him, you didn’t let him sit down.
Shifting you so you were being held with only one arm, he scooped up your legs and bent you in half within his hold. You grunted at the strain of your muscles being stretched in an odd position. Heavily, he sat on the chair and it groaned from the sudden weight. On his lap, he released your legs and scooted forward so the table dug into your ribs.
“Do we need a repeat of a couple days ago?” Erwin’s voice brushed against your neck and you flinched back.
Huffing and puffing, you tried to assess what to do now. You don’t care what it takes, but you weren’t going to be spoon-fed like a baby. Hands gripping the table, you peered from under your brow to see Levi waiting for your next move.
Forcing the table back by a mere inch, you went slack and slipped out of Erwin’s hold. Slithering down and under the table, you quickly went on your hands and knees.
“Seriously?” You heard Levi fume, but exasperated.
Crawling under the table, you avoid where Levi sat and pushed the chair out. Stumbling back on your feet, you make a break for your room. If you had enough time, you could possibly blockit with the dresser.
You made it about five feet before someone gripped your forearm and twisted you into their chest. Blindly, you raised a hand and slapped the person across the face. Seeing how far you had to reach, you knew you hit Erwin.
In shock, you held your breath as you stared at Erwin’s side profile. Blotchy pinks and reds already raised to the surface of his cheek. Scared for an entirely different reason, you gripped his hand and tried to pry the fingers away from your arm. A hushed scream ripped through you as he gripped harder, so hard the bone creaked.
Turning back towards you, his jaw ticked. His nostrils flared as he tried to control his temper. Those pretty blues morphed into something darker. Death in his scowl.
Erwin said nothing as he started walking with you still in his grasp. Your arm twisted at an awkward angle. Wincing, you followed closely behind his thunderous stomps towards the bathroom.
The door already opened, he threw you inside so hard you stumbled into the sink. Grunting at your elbow whacking against the edge, you watched Erwin slam the door closed. The knob twisted with a click.
Apparently the bathroom could lock, but from the outside. Just your luck.
Sinking onto the ground, you wrapped your arms around your head and tried to think. With no window in the bathroom, the only way out was through the door currently locked. Maybe with a heavy object you could break the knob off or if you had tweezers to twist off the screws you could leave. Though one would be too loud and the other time consuming. You were doomed.
Knocking your head against the skin cabinets a couple of times, you cursed yourself for being so stupid. Sure you were operating purely on fear, but you need to start thinking before doing anything. You were going to get yourself killed.
“Stupid fucking idiot,” You grumbled to yourself.
Your head shot up at the door being swung open with a loud thud. You didn’t even notice the click of the lock being twisted with the key. That damn fucking key.
Levi sauntered in, no indication of anything but coldness on his face. Closing the door behind with a thud, he marched to your crumpled form.
Fear gripped you. Scrambling back on your feet, you didn’t allow Levi the ability to kick you while you were on the ground, literally. On a more even playing level, you leaned back as he got in your face.
“I think you like being punished.”
Your cheek twitched in perplexion, “Defending myself isn’t liking to be punished.”
His hand shot out and gripped your face, “Since it won’t get through your thick fucking skull, I’ll spell it out for you. Whatever autonomy you had is gone so stop fighting for something that never existed.”
“I’m not going to roll over and let this happen—”
He cut you off, “And that’s the problem. You don’t get a say, not anymore.”
“Fuck—”
Before you could finish the words, Levi shoved two fingers in your mouth so far back you gagged. He pressed the digits down so your jaw went slack.
“Dogs don’t talk.”
Your hands went up to rip his hands from your face, but the one gripping your jaw gathered them up and held them to your stomach.
He pet his fingers over your tongue a few times, gaze never leaving yours. You whined as he kept toying with your gag reflex. Slowly he slipped his digits from your mouth, a string of drool following. Reaching behind him, Levi tugged something from his back pocket.
Mouth still open, he quickly shoved the pink bone gag in. Unable to protest, he released your hands and firmly fastened the belts to your head.
“Good dog,” He mocked. “Stay. Erwin decided you would go to bed hungry since you want to be a stubborn bitch.”
Sure you weren’t going to do anything drastic, Levi went towards the tub and flicked on the water. Moving the dials, the water came out with a trail of steam. Possibly a little too hot.
As the tub filled, he swiftly made his way back to you before you could even think to do something stupid. With little regard towards your plight, he stood in front of your sniveling form. Fists clenched at your thighs, you stared him down.
He matched your glare. Not breaking contact, his cold fingers tugged at your shirt, brushing against the slowly exposed skin. Already in enough trouble as is, you let him lift the shirt from over your head, raising your arms with it.
This process isn’t new to you. Levi had taken it upon himself to be the one to bathe you, never leaving you out of his sight. Completely clinical with how he washed you. Not one spot of your body was left uncleansed. Meticulous with his movements, he often rubbed your skin raw.
So you bit down on the rubber clenched between your teeth and let him take off the rest of your clothes. Folding your shirt, he placed it onto a counter, moving on to your pants and undergarments. As he slid down, he kneeled, tapped one ankle to step out and then the other. You felt pathetic. Where did your fight go moments prior?
Putting down your dirty clothes, Levi turned off the facets. Silence boomed from the lack of rushing water. His back still facing you, the incredibly stupid thought crossed your mind to push him into the water. Maybe if you were quick enough you could take the key from him. Rolling up his sleeve, Levi tested the water. Sloshing filled the room as he swirled the hand around.
Your feet softly pattered against the tile, barely a noise is made. Hands outstretched, your hands hover over his broad back despite his slight frame. Before he could turn around, you pushed.
A grunt is heard. Levi caught himself on the rim of the tub. No part of him got wet as his torso hovered over the water. Knowing you fucked up, you stumbled backwards.
Spinning around, a glower strewn across his face, he caught your wrist.
“I should have known you were being too smart.”
Fearful stubbornness filled you. Clutching the wrist holding yours, you tugged and pulled, anything to get the offending grip off you.
Through the gag, you tried to scream at him to release you. Nothing more than muffled gargles came up. Levi ignored your babbles.
Grabbing the back of your neck with his free hand and forced you over the rim of the tub. The porcelain dug into your hips as you hung over the water. From this position, he twisted your arm to sit on your lower back. You winced from your shoulder twinging, close to snapping out of place.
Your free hand instinctively tried to break your fall. Your fingers slipped against the bathtub floor, the hot water stung. Uselessly struggling against his hold, you took some of the water and blindly threw it behind you.
Levi cursed behind you, “God, are you fucking five?”
Through the gag, you smirked and huffed. Why is he surprised when they reduced you to acting so immature.
Shuffling closer until his crotch almost sat against your butt, he reached over to grab the hand splashing water. Contorting it to sit over your other wrist, he gathered them in one hand and held you down. Trying to jerk him off was futile.
The clanking of a belt being undone had your back tense. With more fervor, you kicked your legs out to get him off you, terrified of what he was going to do. He better not touch you again. You were doing so well, after these weeks, the feeling of him touching parts you rather remain untainted finally left.
Cursing him through the gag, you seethed and growled like the rabid dog he named you.
His belt snapped out of the loops with a harsh whoosh! Wrists still clamped together, he coiled the leather around the delicate bones, and pulled it taut until your wrists were properly bound. Levi shifted himself so he kneeled to the side of you, no longer between your legs.
You still kicked your feet out, confused and scared. Levi placed his knee on your right calf, pinning it to the floor. You groaned at his bone digging into the muscle.
“Do I need to bind your ankles, too?”
Tilting your torso up as much as you could to look at him, you rapidly shook your head no. You didn’t want to leave yourself anymore vulnerable.
“Look at the mutt being smart for once.”
You bit into the gag. Oh how you despised his taunts. He did it on purpose, he must with how his smokey irises glinted in amusement from your discontentment.
“Maybe this time you will finally learn, brat.”
Fingers splayed between your shoulder blades, he forced you down until you nearly face planted into the water. Before you could attempt to ask what he’s doing, he reared a hand back and spanked you.
A gasp left you and your eyes blown wide. Did… did he just spank you?
More perplexed than before, you tried to look at him but he drifted his hand to your nape and kept you down.
“Squirming will only make this worse.”
Whining, you attempted to get out of his hold, but he struck you again. Back arching—or at least trying—you screamed from the pain. God, he hit hard. Showing no mercy as he laid into your vulnerable skin. Your ass already burned. Your left leg wiggled, trying to do anything to deal with the agony.
He slapped the same spot again, right on your left cheek where your butt and thigh meet. Crying out again, Levi dunked your head into the water.
Panic filled you along with the water up your nose. Not again, fuck no, not again. As fast as you were under the water he pulled you from it.
“Quiet.”
Hiccuping, you couldn’t calm your ragged breathing. How were you supposed to be silent when his hand cracked your skin like a whip and is trying to drown you, again.
Nostrils flaring, your teeth sunk into the rubber. Your hips thrusted into the tub wall as he spanked the right cheek, closer to where your tailbone is. A scream left you when he struck you three times in succession. From the noise, he shoved your head back into the steaming water. The liquid seeped into your gag, forcing you to swallow it.
Eyes clenched, you shrieked when his hand hit both sides of your butt. Air bubbles broiled up to the surface as you tried to quell your wriggling. Finally, Levi forced you back up and you frantically tried to spit up the water, but to no avail. The gag blocked you from actually getting any proper oxygen. Thin snot poured from your nose as you gasped and sputtered.
“Pleath, pleath, I can’ph,” You pleaded through your gag, sobs wracking through you.
Levi submerged you once more and pulled you back. He leaned close to your ear, mocking, “Did I break you already?”
Blinking the water from your lashes, you met his teasing with a scowl.
Your brows quickly tented when he slapped you a little lower, fingers catching your folds. Nails biting your palms, you gave a gentle whimper. He kept his gaze. The knee on your calf, spread your leg further to gain more access. When he spanked you again, he hit your pussy dead on this time.
Shoulders hunching, a strangled noise between a moan and yelp caught in your throat. Try as you might, you couldn’t help how your hips bucked when he slapped your clit. Your ears heat up from how wet the spank sounded.
And of course Levi called attention to it. “Look at how soaked you are. Being spanked like a misbehaving child turns you on this much? You really are a bitch in heat.”
Frantically you shook your head, hating how your body betrayed you.
“No? I think you like this,” He paused to hit you again, attention solely on the nub. “I wonder if you can cum from being spanked alone. Should we test it out?”
Your squirming came back with a vengeance. “Mhph! Mhph!”
Silencing you, you are dunked once more. He kept your head under the water, so far down, your head bumped against the floor. Unable to do much, his deft fingers stroke up and down your slit, gathering the slick. His middle and ring finger circled your clit, barely any pressure. Your toes tried to find purchase on the slippery floor.
Slipping back up, his fingertips toy with entering your hole. Rapidly running out of air, your hands squeeze and release to pathetically find any way to free yourself. Your sinuses ached from being polluted, along with your lungs swiftly deflating. Even with your eyes closed, the world spun around you.
Just as you tittered towards unconsciousness, simultaneously Levi brought you back up, he shoved his fingers into your cunt. Your brain was a slurry of pleasure and affliction. You could barely catch up to the world around you, meaning you were completely limp in Levi’s hold.
As he held you up by digging his fingers into the belt of the gag, his fingers petted your walls as he did however long ago to your tongue. Coughing up the water only for it to go back down, you were rendered pliable. Wheezing came from your nose as Levi pulled his fingers out just to painstakingly thrust them back in. Slow to work you open. In and out, in and out. Your walls hugged the digits, wanting more.
Having his fill, Levi dragged them out with a squelch and went back to your clit. A little bit more firm, he tweaked the bundle of nerves. When you didn’t so much twitch, he hummed, satisfied.
Slapping your cunt, you jumped but were otherwise silent. Then he went back to laying into your ass. Your body jerked forward as he hit with more force. Clenching your eyes, you found the rest of the belt and clutched it, willing yourself to remain silent. Each smack brought you back to full alertness.
You tried to keep the sniffles to a minimum, not wanting to be brought under again. Whatever lesson he was trying to teach, you got it. You were far from broken—as he mocked—but you were tired, at least for tonight.
With no other way to indicate he won, you let yourself sag. The tension in your back and legs released. You trusted Levi not to let you fall. And he didn’t. With one more warning spank, he put all his power into the area where he could hit both cheeks causing you to cringe.
Fingers still threaded through the gag’s adjustments, he brought you up to his chest. You slumped against him, head on his shoulder. His hand snaked around to clutch your throat instead. Not tight, but not loose either, just enough to get the point across.
Looking up at him, he disregarded you. His own eyes showed no sympathy or regret. Pushing you off him so your head laid on the tub rim, he undid his belt.
“Get in the bath.”
That led you to where you are now, bottom and wrists burning. When you shakily crawled inside, Levi made work of his own clothes. Unable to do anything, you simply curled into a ball and let him get comfortable on the other side.
At some point he told you to fill the tub with more water and you obliged, not for him but because you didn’t want to be anywhere near cold water. He also tugged his box of cigarettes and lighter from his pants pocket, too impatient to go outside.
You’re the one that got yourself in this mess. The words he just spoke pierced you, and he could tell.
Cigarette dangling from his thin, perfectly pink lips, he spoke again, “You know I’m right, so stop glaring.”
That only fueled you to stare harder. Eyes locked with his, you willed in your brain for him to blow up. Alas, he only cocked a brow.
Reaching for you, you flinched back. He didn’t hesitate to still grab your shoulder and bring you closer. Your nose crinkled at your ass rubbing against the tile, irritating the raw skin. Turning you around to have your back face him, he planted both hands on your shoulders. His hands forced you back until your head laid against his clavicle. Your chin scraped against the water as his surprisingly rested on the top of your head.
Hands wandered down until his arms were tight around your waist. Every part of you was surrounded by him. Even if you struggled, you wouldn’t budge an inch. So you allowed yourself to sink into the plush muscle of his chest, ignoring how his dick laid against your back.
You watched the ashes from his cigarette fall into the water. The little embers swiftly snuffed. A tense silence hung in the air. Something plagued Levi’s mind, but you had no way to question him and you weren’t sure if you wanted to.
Another long-winded lecture about how you were stupid and needed to learn your place most likely. You knew your place very well, but how could he ask you to not at least try to fight. He acted as if it’s your fault Erwin took a perturbed liking to you. If it wasn’t you, then some other girl. Possibly one less bull-headed as you.
Though, you shelved away the thought and sagged further into Levi. He held you in the quiet of the bathroom, thumb stroking your stomach. For once in a long while you felt peace and that within itself filled you with dread.
#yandere x reader#yandere#yandere levi x reader#yandere levi#levi x reader#yandere erwin#yandere erwin x reader#yandere aot#levi smut#erwin x reader
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More Than Curiosity🌙
previous ShadowAU~ it's all smut from here on tbh, very dubcon-y so mind the tagss💕
cw// terato, entomology/insect killing/mounting mentions, groping
"I know you're there..." Liquid darkness slithers across the floor at his words, indignant... almost relieved.
Ichigo isn't entirely sure this isn't another attempt at a nightmare, he's had enough life-like enough dreams to doubt, and yet he wouldn't be surprised if he was, really, fully awake. He has enough proof and experience to know there's something not of this world under his bed. Something he learned not to tell psychiatrists about, if he wants to keep his broken sanity intact.
It better be real, his mind provides, when a near three meter high creature takes shape from the pool of shadows at the foot of his bed. Its velvety, fluid, state, taking a more solid, skin-like, look to it the further it incorporates into reality. The thing growls in his face, a guttural, echoing sound reverberating all along its body before it rings through his bones.
Ichigo realizes, with a crooked grin, that he feels a similar facination about it as he does when he watches his invertebrate specimens die inside a jar.
It twists and moves somewhat unnaturally, a dying carcass returning to a lively shape... It attempts to speak- and all Ichigo can think about is the crude way his dick jolts awake when it opens its mouth full of shadowy teeth. Shadows dripping off its face in inky droplets, only to mix into the darkness of the room like it was water. He wants to take in as much as he can, lest he be dreaming for real; with wide, burning, tired, eyes, he examines every inch of him.
He can't remember the last time he ever felt real arousal for anyone, or anything. Girls with issues such as his would often try to throw themselves at him, the creepy aura off him called in those who had fathers they wanted to disappoint in this particular way, he supposed; but, real or fake interest, it was never enough to get him quite like this.
Fat and heavy against the soft worn fabric of his underwear; so hard he could faint, and so eager to touch that his fingertips tingled, electrified.
If it could speak, Ichigo cut those guttural words short with his curious hands; reaching over to feel the silky black hair and the darkened skin, breathing in deeper when the single touch reverted the things face back to a plain face plate with a pair of confused blue eyes. Hah, so it's not really one to be touched, he supposes. Whatever it is, it's used to hiding so well no one ever knows it's there at all...
Dark pride swells in his core just thinking about being the only one, or one of few, to see such an exquisite creature, to touch it's surprisingly soft hair and warm skin... to breath in its ashy scent, and gaze down it's glowing pale eyes.
His heart beats so fast he's not sure he won't lose consciousness for real, his breathing fast and ragged as his fingers became a grabby fist and a flat palm; hungrily tracing all it's soot black skin like he owned it. Pulling it's body in close to better look into its eyes press himself to the warmth of its shadowy bits still without shape.
"Whatever the fuck you are..." he mutters, losely hoping it will understand, "I'm gonna fuck the hell out of you."
#ShadowAU#ichigo kurosaki#grimmjow jaegerjaquez#ichigrimm#一グリ#demon!Grimmjow#smut#nsft#grimmIchi#bleach
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Heretics and Flesh Devotees
Based on the poem Anorexic by Eavan Boland
disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/pinterest and collaged on canva
pairings: azriel x fem!reader
Summary: Flesh is heretic. My body is a witch. I am burning it. And I am burning the man who condemned me to such a fate.
Warnings: mentions of abuse (not detailed), mentions of misogyny (not detailed)
Word count: 2.2k
Gaysindistress masterlist | azriel masterlist
My body has never been mine. It’s been owned, sold, bought, and branded by others time and time again. My body has never been mine to command and control as the authority in my life has. It’s disgusting to think that in the years since my birth, my body, my soul, and my will has been placed into the hands of others.
As a babe it was my parents although they did try to be gentle and kind. Their faults were found in the ones they left to care for me. The awful creatures hated me for a name I did not choose and wished their hearts’ cruelest desires onto me. As one would assume those desires became my reality as I grew older and started to fight back against them. Their words hurt but they bounced off where they once slashed. Their look stung where they once left burn gashes. Their foul intentions felt like flicks on my nose where they once felt like I’d been beaten to a pulp.
My body still wasn’t my own even though when I prayed for it to be returned to me. Boys who felt entitled to looks and touches tried to lay their claim to me. Men who felt like they deserved praise for caring for me tried to demand me in payment for their actions. Too jaded against it all, I turned to a creature that would prove to be far worse than any boy or man I could’ve been gifted to.
The creature I thought I would safety in begged for my eternal devotion and demanded that I give over whatever I could. He made me into a prisoner and my body into a witch that worshipped him.
Every molecule that made up my body, mind, and heart screamed when I began to fight against its urges. The enormity of my own craving made me sick when I wailed at the scorching of my secret ministrations.
At night, I poisoned my mind when it thought of him. I bruised my limbs when they carried me towards him. I broke what I had to when I tried to search for him. I destroyed myself over and over again until the thought of him made my stomach turn and my skin crawl.
The sick version of me tried to bend me and sent fever throughout me. In my delirium, her half truths felt like the sweetest angelic hymns. Whispering into my ear, she tried to coax me into slipping back into my old solutions.
I renounced her honeyed voice and vomited out her milky words. I renounced her hungered tongue and spat out her name along with his. I fused the flames that came when I thought of him with the spite I conjured and burned the bitch alive from the inside out.
Morphed into a starved and twisted soul, I laughed when he began to resent me. It took him months to realize that something had changed within me. I was no longer painted with soft edges and stunning features but carved into a curveless piece of skin and bone that mocked him. At dinners and events thrown in his favor, I sipped at my rotten wine while the women among me gossiped the state of my marriage. They did not utter a single word for how I seemed to be fairing but how the once holy union between him and I seemed to be slipping.
I sipped at the foul liquid until it stained my lips a violent shade of calculated vengeance. I pretended to swallow entire bottles and postured drunkenness so they would think I couldn’t hear the things they confessed to.
My husband’s heavy stare always found me as I slumped further and further into my chair, allowing him to believe that my pain to consumed me. The hungry leery he masked with an adoring gaze had faded into disappointment and disgust, so much so that eventually he stopped looking altogether. No longer did he pull me into his lap, his Herculean arms caging me in falsified comfort and demand to know what was bothering his beautiful wife.
Instead he found younger and more attractive women to watch and eventually fill his time with. Instead a young woman, borderline girl, with flowing locks of auburn hair and gentle curves became his new hobby.
Thin as a rib, my knife slept under my pillow. The feverish bitch within me cried and cried as she watched me plot his demise. It pained the other within me that withered and gasped for air to think I could even contemplate such a scenario.
Could I truly commit murder?
Could I truly force my husband to shuffle off this mortal coil?
The dueling fates were soon quilled when I turned in sleep to find claustrophobia looming over me. His warm body threatened to suffocate me while the haunting sound of his inner thoughts filled the breadth between us. Once I had been pulled into slumbers embrace by his heart beat’s gentle drum and quiet song of his breath but now it closed in on me and pressed.
I could not muster the strength to find my rib like knife nor move it from its hiding place. I promised myself only a few more days of this torture. Only a few more nights of slipping back into his bed before I set myself free.
I hadn’t intended on waiting for another few weeks but an uninvited guest coiled my plan into nothingness.
Azriel the Shadowsinger.
He arrived just as his name implied; as silently as the night and slithered his way in without resistance. He was a man born with charmed words that dripped from his silver tipped tongue and slid between pearly white teeth. A man known for his third eye, the Truth-Teller, that when he showed up on our doorstep, my husband begged him to stay for fear of his wrath. Like a shadow, he was present in every crevice of the house and was not seen. My husband’s ego got his way, tripping him up as he stumbled to accommodate Azriel, the embodiment of shadows with violent hazel eyes.
The woman my husband found to be my replacement took her role before I was revealed. Instead I was whisked away into a room hidden deep within the compound. She played the dutiful host and doted on her guests. She donned the gowns once crafted for me and wore the jewelry I previously did. She laughed at the jokes the men made and smiled sweetly at the husband she desired but would never love. She became the wife and I hated to see another take my place for I knew what awaited her.
I wanted to spare her. I tried to spare her but my efforts were in vain. She cried out when I told her to leave. She screamed when she saw my knife meant my husband. She fell into it when I tried to pull away from her ivory grasp.
As I said, I hadn’t intended on becoming into the personification of destruction but it was inevitable when I was given no other choice.
Blood drips from me and hits the floor beneath me with a deafening loudness as my husband stares at me.
A single question hangs in the air; “What have you done?”
“What have I done?” I calmly ask, arching a brow at the man who stands and dares to judge me. “The better question is what did you make me do.”
It’s a disgusting sight to behold; him pretending that I’m nothing more than a body of mangled bones and broken convictions molded by him. Dark as night and deafening as the ever present silence that fills when you’re dying, his gaze tries to weigh me down and fails.
Azriel smiles when he senses my anger and he becomes a conduit of my emotions as the twin sinister glint to mine flickers in his dark eyes. He reclines against the rotting wood walls like a feline would; regal and untouchable but lethal all the same.
My husband throws a glance to the blood that is pooling around me with disappointment before speaking, “Your actions are your own. Take responsibility for the carnage that you have created for once in your pathetic life. This is all your fault, y/n.”
My eyes narrow at his choice of words.
Take responsibility? My fault?
Fitting that he would choose to say that I need to take the blame for the actions I committed because of him. He had been the one to deem me an object to be bought and sold. He had been the one to make me in his image and create a wife he felt was worthy of him. He had been the one to turn my body into a heretic and I had no other choice but to burn her at the stake.
“Husband,” I start as I take a step forward while he takes one back, “What I have done is only because you forced my hand. Every drop of blood, scream ripped from raw throats, tears shed have been because of you.”
Azriel’s terrifying chuckle rings through the room, causing the remaining members of my husband’s house to drop their heads and hide their fear. The blood of their new lady of the house fills the room with a coppery stench and some have taken to covering their faces with their collars. As Azriel around the room, his chest swells with pride at the terror that he’s caused in them but it stills when he lands on me.
A creature who’s grown angular and unholy in the confines of her husband’s cage.
He smiles as he lets his dagger like eyes to slash across my frame.
“Enough of whatever petty martial bullshit this is about,” he dismisses with boredom thick in his voice. “You took something from me and I want it back.”
My husband attempts to fix the situation but the guest cuts him off.
“I said enough,” he seethes, gritting out the words between clenched teeth. The action tightens and sharpens his already pronounced jaw, giving him the appearance akin to a statue.
Within seconds my coward of a husband is lying on the ground, crying and begging for his lord as the Lord of Bloodshed, Cassian, stands over him with his siphons glow a brilliant red.
“Please I don’t have it. I swear I don’t have it!” he begs while the bigger man growls before landing a swift kick to his stomach. “Take whatever you want, please. Anything and it’s yours.”
Cassian looks to Azriel and awaits his judgment. Azriel has not looked away from me this entire night. He’s still locked in on me as he nods. Cassian bends down and grips my husband by the neck, hauling him up so high his feet dangle helplessly below him.
“That’s a dangerous deal you’ve just made.”
My husband begs and begs for his own life but not for mine or even the wife he replaced me with as she lays on the floor in a pool of blood.
“If only I believed you,” Azriel sighs, “but I don’t and I’m not in the mood to hear any more of your lies.”
“Y/n..” my husband turns his pleading to me but I interrupt him with a roar of anger.
“Enough,” I hiss at him, rage boiling in my veins, “You used and manipulated me for years. I was nothing but a toy to brought out when you grew bored. You’ve shoved me off to the side and pushed me to my breaking point but now that the consequences are coming for you, you turn to me and expect me to help.”
Azriel has taken to prowling towards me now that my calm facade has dropped. He stalks me like an apex predator would their prey.
“Did you hear that, princess?” He poses the question to me and only me. “He’s offering you up like a prized goat when he could just give me what he took. That’s not very nice now is it? Seems a bit selfish doesn’t it?”
I attempt to sneak a glance at my husband but he catches my chin in a tight grip, “Don’t look at them, look at me.”
And I do. I’m met with a torrid stare that calls to that divinely angular and starving creature within me.
“You can have her! Take her, please! Please just don’t kill me,” my husband cries out as if I’ll be his saving grace. The sounds are muffled as the utter chaos that lives within Azriel’s heart soothes me into the fall.
I fall into the forked tongued embrace of this devilish man.
I fall into the need of a python that wraps itself around us both.
I fall into the heaving breaths that lunge my chest up and down as I stare at his lips.
I fall into the visions of heat, sweat, gluttony, and lust that awaits us.
Azriel visibly cringes before me at my husband’s words but waits for me.
“Well princess?”
“I want my freedom,” I demand and he flashes me a disastrously beautiful smile.
“Of course,” he promises me. “Of course, princess.”
#az imagine#azriel spymaster#azriel imagine#azriel x reader#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#az x reader#azriel#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#heretics and flesh devotees az x reader
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%¡ SECOND LIFE — ! ❪miguel o'hara❫
synopsis: In which miguel dreamed of you, after encountering you. a version of you.
warning: angst, hurt no comfort, miguel's pov, across the spiderverse spoilers, death.
while reading listen to hai cheng by the8
" You know, love. The sky is so beautiful here. " As you told him. While walking hand-in-hand on the beach, the moonlight transcends the splash of waves at the shore. He can still remember the scent of the beach as his wife twirled in her sundress, his jacket draped on her figure, swallowed her whole to keep the warmth.
However, he didn't look at the night sky as his eyes kept looking at you. He saw the light in your eyes illuminating like the moon and the stars. " Yeah, beautiful. " his words became a whisper as his breath puffed a cloud of smoke in the chilly air, he didn't take his eyes off you.
You felt his gaze, his beautiful eyes looking at you with such adoration, love, and passion as you're eyes met. A spark of joy blossoms on your face, giggling at him " Done staring at me? " you smirked at him, coming closer to him as the feeling of the sand contacting with your feet and the smell of his cologne with the cold breeze.
Holding his hand with your's— the rough but delicate touch of his fingertips with your smaller hands, the dance of the butterflies fluttering about in the pits of your stomach, his lips tip in a smirk and bowing down to your height to your face. " Hm, something wrong with that. I was staring at my beautiful wife. " As he spoke those words, a hearty laugh came from your mouth.
Laughter echoes in his mind, making him laugh with you.
" Really? " You teased him coming closer to his lips as you felt the minty breath of his— almost touching, " Yeah, I was the yo— I mean the sky, so beautiful shining with the stars but the brightest of all. " His words came shaky as his hands gripped your waist causing you to be closer to him like vines attached to the wall with a never-ending grip.
" Seems like you want to marry the sky rather than me. " Your eyebrows scrunched patting his chest, and smirked at him while a giggle escaped your lips. " Well, I already did. " As his voice came like a whisper and a shocked look from your face. " Oh shit, you're cheating on me!? " A fake gasp came to your mouth as you half-heartedly slapped his face.
He isn't in pain by that slap you gave him, but pretending like he were, in simple moments like these. He cherished every one of them, whether you burnt the cake you were preparing just for him or even acted childish to get a stuffed toy at the carnival. He loved everything so, he always played along. He knows you have your ups and downs in life, and he wants— No, he will always find a way to cure or bring back that little person you're protecting inside your toughed heart. As he knows you'll protect his too.
He hugged you tight like he were afraid of letting you like you were gone in his vision.
He felt your laughter echo in his mind as you took a step away from him and ran, the sky collapsing in his eyes as the waves of the beach became distorted like a tv collapsing. He ran to save you, his legs shaking as his body heavy from something— he felt chills, then everything was black.
He felt himself falling from an abyss to—
Waking up as his body shook like he was falling from a building, Sweat building and covering his whole body as his hands wandered to the empty side of his bed, your shared bed.
He felt something coming down from his face, something liquid it felt hot from his skin it was tears. He was crying from that dream, it felt so real to him. Losing you again was more painful than any cuts, bruises, broken bones he had.
He looked down at his sweaty palms in disbelief, he looked at the ceiling.
What time is it?
He's lost track of time already,
The flow of his days filled with overworking himself to save the multiverse, even having the never-ending grief of losing three people. He scratched his eyes as his vision darkened from crying to that dream, he turned his head over at the table across him as his pupils dilated staring at his dead wife's picture.
How long is it when you die?
Oh, right. It's been one thousand, five hundred and fifteen days since you died.
He took count as he wanted to visit your grave once a week at least, maybe even more if he needed your presence. You wouldn't be there as your body lay beneath the ground, now tainted with the soft pillow grass. He trimmed the grass twice a week, so he still sees the cobblestone that your name is engraved.
The name he always adored, It is a shame that whenever he's away, people recklessly tramp on the filthy dirt where his wife resides.
He felt his eyes grow heavy once again, his dry lips quivering. He want to sleep again but it was so hard that you're always in his dreams. Without you by his side once again, you were gone, never to be seen again. The tears fell all at once, flooding his vision as he cried out for you. His heart felt heavy as he gripped his t-shirt, it felt so long again dreaming of you after encountering you— a version of you In another universe.
He promised himself, someday in his second life. He will protect you at all cost
#miguel ohara#miguel o'hara#spider-man#spiderman#across the spiderverse#across the spiderverse spoilers#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#spiderman x reader#spider-man x reader#spiderman 2099#spider-man 2099#spiderman 2099 x reader#spider-man 2099 x reader#oscar isaac#oscar isaac x reader
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(Following the bad ending, Mina waking up as a vampire in one of the tombs of Castle Dracula after Jonathan carries her body there)
-
The moment she opened her eyes, her whole being was Hunger.
Once the smell that she knew was blood came from the breathing, black-clad body lying with her in a tomb as cold as she, a wild desire came upon her, and she was now pinning it under relentless arms.
She was instinct, bare fangs itching to tear that bag of flesh and bone underneath her apart.
The scent of anything besides blood was a dark blur, yet she was driven to seek fear too. She grabbed the fabric covering the pumping veins beneath and met the eyes; hollow, gleaming in the moonlight.
Why was this man in mourning garments not trembling underneath her adamantine, heartless cruelty? Why was he smiling so sadly up to her?
Why was this invading familiarity hurting?
"Wilhelmina..."
The word deafened the thumping of the arteries in the hand reaching out to her snarling face.
The hand (no, her Darling's hand) cupping her face was cold and tender on her cheek.
A wetness trailed down her cheeks and she saw red liquid drip on his clothes underneath her, staining them.
His thumb simply wiped one of her tears away, and she was again in that sickbed that became their wedding bed, on top of him, as he was looking up at her with these same adoring eyes.
The remnant of his love was supposed to have passed into hate and loathing. Her killing to be done by his hand, with savage delight.
My husband, she tried to assert, but the pain in her wounded throat cut like a bonesaw, but he must have heard it anyway because my wife was his staunch reply.
Her husband bent his head to the hand gripping his collar and kissed the ring in reverence.
She saw through his eyes how the final act had played out: Alone he returned to his old Hell, carrying his other half in his arms for this final visit, and thus he abandoned his place among the stars of Heaven. She understood then where the smell of blood on him had come from, that the snow outside was as stained as her forehead.
But the past was dead like noble old friends with stakes and saws, and there was only the now. No regrets arising from the grave.
In the haze of her mind, she felt a touch of triumph. Her sire's demand for her to devour her man against his will had been overpowered. Could King Saul force his kin to mangle the Beloved intertwined with his soul? Foolish to even conceive. She knew the Vampire would shroud her mind again, but she would not let It take their renewed union and its sanctity away from them.
She lifted her clasping hand away and waited. Wordlessly, her husband presented his dear throat to her.
His caress was tender in her long hair as she sank her teeth, and his sigh filled their desolate chamber. Love surged through her veins, and she was enveloped in warmth.
#dracula#jonathan harker#mina harker#jonmina#holiest love#blood of my blood#dracula au#dracula daily#dracula fic
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saw her first / mason mount & christian pulisic
request: hi! since your request is open can i request for a christian pulisic fic where reader is dating christian and she’s mason’s bestfriend. 3 of them are hanging out together in mason’s house and mason was complaining about his day to christian & reader but she is distracted by christian’s arm tattoos, she keep tracing it and inspecting it like she has never seen it before and mason is sooo done with reader’s behaviour and he called her out. make it fluffy, funny and sweet please!! thank you ❤️
pairing: bff!reader x bff!mason x bf!christian
word count: 0.9k
author's note: took me a bit but here it is! hope you like it 🤍
nothing had been going like mason wanted today.
he was rambling about it ever since he got through the door with your boyfriend, christian, just after practice. his effusive hands and his pacing throughout your flat reflected how conflicted he was about whatever it was that he was talking about, but running on almost no sleep it was almost impossible to catch what he was saying. mason stopped, dead in his tracks, and looked straight at you, once he realized you weren't replying to anything he was saying. he saw that you were too caught up in your boyfriend's tattoos in his left arm, tracing with your finger every line that adorned his skin.
you knew his arm like it was your own, having your finger traveling throughout the lines that dressed his skin with all sorts of drawings even before you two became a couple. mason obviously noticed your lack of attention to his complaints, and fuelled the anger that was already brewing in his bones.
“y/n, are you even listening to me?” he exclaimed, stopping on his tracks and getting his hands on his hips, eyes glaring at you when you dared to lift up your own, paying attention again once you heard your name.
you replied, maybe too quick to sound convincing. “of course i am!”.
mason lifted his eyebrows in an interrogative way, while christian stood up to find a glass of water in the kitchen, wanting to avoid his friend's wrath once he caught onto your lie.
“then what did i say?” he questioned, and his wicked smile grew the longer you took to answer him. “something about tuchel…?” you said, in a doubtful tone, clearly unsure about your answer. he opened his eyes wide at your mention of the german man who used to be chelsea's manager -key word, used. not anymore.
he raised his hands towards the sky, and then down onto his hair, looking like he might rip his head off. christian could only cough, trying to avoid getting drowned with the liquid he had been drinking before hearing your answer. “he hasn’t been with us since september!” mason said, high pitch in his voice noting how frustrated he was. you noticed he had tears in his eyes when he seated across from you, head in his hands that were supported in his legs. preoccupied by his reaction, you almost jumped to your feet, crouching by his side to hug him tightly.
“right, i’m sorry. i didn’t get to meet the new manager yet. i'm sorry, mase” you tried to explain, thinking that he was so mad at you that his anger spilled in tears. he lifted his gaze from his hands, to look at you through his glazed eyes. “you haven’t been coming to the matches?” mason said, voice broken in disbelief. you heard christian moving back into the living room, standing behind his friend to gently caress his head in a comforting way.
you explained, voice soft while looking back and forth between your best friend and your boyfriend behind him. “work has been insane these past few weeks. i promise i’ll be at the bridge for the next one, okay?”. you received a sympathetic smile in return, eyes now full of gentleness as they always were with mason. christian muttered, trying not to sound too judging but stating the truth nonetheless. he would never say something negative about your job, but he did miss seeing your face in the stands, cheering for him on the bridge or anywhere he played at. “you’ve been promising that to me since october…”, he noted.
“yeah, but i’m promising it to masey boy here” you said, jokingly, wanting to tease your boyfriend a bit. they always bickered about who’s your favorite, and even now, when you've been dating christian for almost two whole years, and he clearly knowing that he's got your heart completely, annoying him with mason never got old.
“you’re my girlfriend!” the american player said, big pout in his fully plump lips. you raised to your feet again, and gave him a quick peck on the lips, at which he grinned in return. mason, still in the couch and now under both of you, tried to separate you, like a little kid getting jealous about his mum and dad showing displays of affection in front of him. he got up, and turned to face christian now, pointing his finger accusingly at him. “she was my childhood neighbor before being your girlfriend, mate, i saw her first” he noted, smile that split his face in half at thinking he had won the argument. he always used that card against christian, even though you two hadn't really met there, only being aware of that fact due to your mom finding a pic of you and mason at one of your brother's birthday.
“yeah but-” your boyfriend tried to replicate, but you had grown tired of the argument replaying again and again, time after time, always with the same ending -no one winning, as you loved both boys to death. “enough of that!," you glared at both of them, two sets of wide eyes in return at your sudden raise in tone. an idea came to mind, and you, not being one to pass onto the fun, decide to joke a bit with the two best friends. "i’ll call tuchel to suspend both of you if you continue this nonsense” you quipped.
“for the last time, it’s potter now, y/n!" they both yelled at you, at which you could only laugh, clearly pleased with the annoyed look in both their faces.
#football imagine#football x y/n#football x reader#football x you#christian pulisic x you#christian pulisic x reader#christian pulisic imagine#christian pulisic x y/n#mason mount x you#mason mount imagine#mason mount x reader#mason mount x y/n
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{ 99 }
the man who carries sunshine in his veins.
vash x fem.reader
story specific tags: @bunny-kio
meeting vash was like being exposed to the warmth of the sun-
and it was a meeting that you weren't going to forget, nor regret, any time soon.
the shifting sands felt blowing across no man's land was close to stinging at your eyes, disrupting you from your slumber as you winced. the cold air seeming to blow across the desert landscape was what ultimately forces you to instinctively take cover, inching your form closer to the young man that slept beside you.
upon feeling his warmth seep into you, you allow yourself to let out a quiet sigh and spend this time to admire vash when he was the most vulnerable. his signature sunglasses were tucked somewhere within the confines of his red coat. his calm, blue-green eyes hidden beneath closed eyelids whilst his lips were parted as soft breaths were felt tickling your skin.
lifting up a hand, you gently grace at his soft features, feeling soft giggles escape from the confines of your throat as your voice whispers to him. "thank you, for if it weren't for you, i surely would have died while being buried within these sands..."
you trail off and allow the memories to wash over you, bringing you back to the day where your eyes first laid eyes on him-
the moment where your soul felt the warmth of the sun for the first time.
it was difficult to survive out on your own while in the midst of no man's land. surrounding you were sands that seemed keen on drowning you as your boots seemed to sink within such heated depths. the sweltering sun did little to appease the sweat that runs down your form, making the clothes cling to you like a second skin that you couldn't peel away from.
the stark contrast of the heated days and the cold, lonely nights whilst spent in such a desert were truly taking a toll on you. you had always been alone, not quite fitting in anywhere nor with anyone as you spent your days simply trying to survive when you found yourself castaway within the desert lands.
your usual activities for survival consisted of scavenging for any items you could find. what truly became a scarcity for you was coming across any sources of water. be it bottled or dripping from a leaking pipe, the search for such precious liquid to help with quenching your thirst was becoming quite the challenge for you-
which made your day particularly difficult.
you were dehydrated; that you were sure of as a haziness seemed to put cogs from within your mind. your heart was beating erratically as your whole body seemed to burn up in response to the sun that continues to beat down on your form.
the winds blowing across the lands makes you cough in response to how you had swallowed some grains of sand. your throat was parched, and your vision was steadily becoming blurry. your body ached as your muscles seemed to cramp with each step that you took, making it truly difficult for you to go on.
with a gasp, you succumb to your exhaustion and fall down to your knees. your breathing comes out as labored, the sweat seeping from your frame was making you feel even more fatigued. you lose your consciousness then, ready to simply die from dehydration as you allowed yourself to finally sleep after fighting for so long.
there was a darkness spreading through the depths of your heart and soul. you just felt so hopeless and alone. the same coldness that mirrors that of the nights spent in the desert was felt coursing through you when you finally resign yourself to falling into a deep slumber that you had no plans of awakening from-
only to feel something cold splashing against your skin just as you were close to drowning. you wince at such an odd sensation, eyebrows physically furrowing in response as a soft groan was elicited from your throat. all you wanted was to sleep; to rest and appease the weariness that was felt within your very bones.
"hey! come on, wake up! you can't sleep like this!"
this time, the splash came with a concerned voice, finally rousing you from your sleep as you slowly opened your eyes. your irises were lifeless, defeated almost, when you saw a young man with spiky, golden blond locks of hair looking down at you with pure concern in his gaze.
his eyes were hidden beneath sunglasses, but you swore you saw eyes that shared the same hues of a blue sky from beneath such shades. the stranger's lips were tilted downwards in a frown as he lifts the flask once more, allowing you to finally realized that it was water he was splashing on your face. when one of the droplets manage to slide down your cheeks and into your open mouth, you could feel the life slowly get back into you as your eyes widen in response.
the kind, yet strangely beautiful young man helps you sit up all while holding the flask filled with water towards your dry lips. "careful, take slow and steady sips. i don't want you to choke or anything." you follow his advice, even if it took you a herculean effort to simply take gentle and careful sips when you were parched for so long.
when the flask was emptied, you found that you had regained your strength as you were able to sit up, remaining close to your savior as he settles your form between his legs. your eyes were filled with gratitude for him, yet you struggled with finding the right words to say.
the young man was silent as well, but he had a smile appearing across his soft, yet handsome features. lifting up a hand, to gently grace against your features. such a gentle caress catches you off guard as you end up instinctively moving back, nearly falling in response-
only to have the man steady you as you felt something cool touching against your back. from your periphery, you could see the metal prosthetic arm that takes over the entirety of his left arm. seeing such a thing makes your heart ache in response. just what horrors and pain had this young man been through to warrant him wearing a prosthetic arm?
"what's your name?" his voice was soft, as if reading your mind based on your expression alone when he asks his question after spending quite some time in silence. meeting his curious gaze, you relinquish the syllables that make up your name to him, earning a smile from the young man as such a soft visage was enough to make your heart race in response. he says your name for a few more times, repeating them in a way as if to cherish such syllables before telling you his own name.
"it's nice to meet you! and- well, you can call me vash, if you want...?"
his smile was sheepish now, making you giggle in response- such a happy sound even catching you off guard as you held your hands over your lips in response. for some odd reason, you felt embarrassed, but the sounds of vash's own laughter was enough to make such feelings disappear.
gently, he removes your hands away from your lips, making it impossible to hide the sudden grin that graces your features as his own smile paints his expression, "don't hide your laughter, it actually sounds really...really sweet to me."
your heart was filled with joy just then, the icy cold loneliness slowly retreating from you as you allowed the rays of sunshine to melt the iciness away from the depths of your heart. you were becoming enamored with the man who seemed to carry sunshine within his very veins, and you were certain that had it not been for him, then your life would have taken a dire turn.
"i- vash, thank you so much, for helping me. for saving me when i needed it the most."
his eyes widen in response to your words, detecting how your voice had taken on such a soft yet reverent quality. and the way you were looking at him-
well...
it made him feel like he were the most important person to you, like you were somehow captivated by him.
such pure and raw emotions being exuded from your gaze was enough to make him smile once more in response. being mindful of your semi-exhausted state, he stands back to his full height while taking you with him. somehow knowing that you were alone in this world, vash asks if you would like to join him in his own travels-
and truly, you would be a fool not to accept his offer.
so here you were, still close to vash as he kept you by his side. the more time you spent with him, the more you felt as though you were losing your heart to him. you knew that vash held your heart within his hands, but you weren't brave enough to come clean to him when it came to your true feelings for the young man.
yet, you couldn't deny that vash truly cared for you, at least, in a way that a good friend should care for their friends. but your heart sang for him, and you found it hard to keep your emotions in check when it came to him.
vash seemed to lead a lonely existence, building walls around his heart that you wished more than anything to break down. you wanted nothing more than to share his burdens; to listen to whatever aches he was going through while getting to the source of why he was traveling across such dead lands to begin with. the gratitude you felt for him when he saved you that day simply served as a starting point for your feelings for him, and you wanted nothing more than to remain by his side for the rest of your days.
your yearning must have made you act on an impulse when your hand reaches out to gently touch at his sleeping face again. your fingertips lightly caress at his cheekbones, but this time he actually feels your touch. vash was felt stirring just the slightest bit as he lets out a soft groan. his arms were still loosely wrapped around your form, providing you some warmth while in the midst of the cold, desert air as you held your breath, witnessing vash waking up.
you let out a soft gasp when vash fully opens his eyes, revealing his blue-green eyes to you. a shyness was felt coursing through your very veins as you could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks. a sleepy expression paints vash's expression, and his gentle beauty was so mesmerizing to you that you found it hard to speak.
you watch as the sleepy expression slowly morphs away from vash's features, being replaced with something unreadable. you couldn't tell what was floating within the depths of his mind, and a part of you wanted to speak and ask him if anything were bothering him. yet before you could speak those words, you felt vash lift his hand to brush against your strands of hair.
he appears nervous, his expression filled with an anxiety that was certainly out of character for him. letting out a soft whisper of your name, you listen as he heaves out a sigh before telling you,
"i'm sorry for this."
you weren't given the chance to ask him what he meant before he suddenly surges forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. your mind was spinning as you felt fireworks going off, making your heart pounding in response as you felt the pure, unbidden happiness suddenly coursing through you. vash had his eyes clenched shut, and you had to swallow back a soft moan. you end up shutting your own eyes in response as you slowly kissed him back, allowing his hands to delve themselves within your locks of hair as he seemed to pull you even closer to him.
vash ends up pulling away from the kiss first, earning a tiny whine from you. he chuckles at the sound of your neediness for his affections, gazing at you with a fondness as he allows his fingertips to trace at your lips.
"i-i like you, m-maybe feel even something stronger than a mere like." vash lets out an adorable cough, clearing his throat as his shy smile returns, "and i...i take it that you feel the same way?"
you allow the light sounds of your laughter to fill the night air, inching closer as you rubbed the tip of your nose against his. "of course... but perhaps, i'm more inclined to admit that my feelings for you run so much deeper than a mere 'like,' vash."
with your own admission lingering in the air, vash shares a few more soft yet sweet kisses with you. he only stop when you close your eyes once more, letting out a yawn as you cuddled yourself even closer to him. feeling you pressed so intimately close against his chest makes vash smile as he engulfs you within his embrace.
whilst you slept, vash allows his eyes to trail towards the wide expanse of the sky, admiring the twinkling stars while thanking whatever entity was above him for allowing him to meet you; for allowing his path to cross with yours.
someday soon, he will tell you of his life and his goal of finding his brother, of how he had experienced such loneliness and pain-
but for now, vash will simply bask in your presence all while thanking fate for giving your heart to him.
a.n. - this goofball is so lovable, i really wanted to write something so fluffy and sweet for him 🥹 this is currently unedited, but i will fix any glaring errors once it is posted.
all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.
#vash x reader#vash the stampede x reader#vash the stampede#trigun#trigun stampede#trigun imagines#trigun x reader#.stories
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Love Underwater
Captain Hook/Killian (Once Upon A Time) × Black Reader.
Light smut and angst.
Killian wasn't always bad. He was kind and considerate.. gentle. He caressed your face with his only hand and spent unrushed hours smoothing your small coils around his fingers, staring into your eyes as you talked endlessly about life and the future. Despite his bloody and sadistic past, you were sure that he wasn't the same Killian that did all those unspeakable things under his pirate moniker Captain Hook.
Captain Hook was a detestible monster responsible for a slew of cold murders and crimes.. Killian felt shame, remorse, and most of all, love.
The two of you made plans. You were gonna settle down, get married, start a family. No more past, only a bright and beautiful future full of love and children's laughter.
Then he was shot by a vengeful bullet, fired before you could blink. It was hazy summer afternoon in your favorite forest clearing. You watched in horror as he tried to register what happened before he collapsed, bleeding out onto the grass.. in your arms.
While his dying words were of undying love and dashed hopes, your tears stained your face and wet his hand, which was pressed sweetly against your cheek. You felt his heart. He was at peace.
But you were not. Deserved or not, you couldn't accept it. You wanted the planned future with a warm home and children. You NEEDED him to live for you and stay with you to keep you from falling apart. He was your family.
On top of that, you wanted vengeance on the one who dared rip everything from your hands. Death to his killer. It was tearing you apart.
"I.. Killian, I know a way to bring you back if you trust me," you whispered, trying your best to keep him comfortable and convince him.
"You were never good at lying," he smiled, stroking your cheek. "It's okay, really. You'll live a good life, and I'll ALWAYS be with you. Death can't stop love."
"But, Killian, there is a way... It's not the best way, but-"
"NO," he said sternly, softening when your eyes got even sadder. "I know what you're thinking and no. Promise me you won't use it. I know myself, and I'd never resurface if I became a dark one. It's taken everything in me to kill off Captain Hook, and I only did it because I wanted to be with you. I'm still a selfish man. I'm begging you... Don't make me be a monster."
You looked deep into his eyes, feeling just as hopeless and selfish as his life spilled on the grass. He'd found it deep within his bones to change and become a good person once. He could change again with a little help from you. You wouldn't abandon him. You had faith in him to defeat the evil in his heart.
But even if he couldn't and was never your Killian again... you couldn't bare the pain of losing him forever, so you did what you felt you had to.. to bind him to life.
You used Merlin's sword to turn him into a creature of evil. A 'dark one'. Only then could he live on forever immortal. One deep stab through the gut was all it took just before he died. Hot tears rolled down your cheeks as you took in the look of betrayal in his eyes. His hook wrapped the sword. He was hurt.
You knew there was a chance that he would never, ever be yours again.
Once he passed out, the black liquid shadows of wickedness surrounded and overtook him like a bath of ink clinging to his form and possessing him. He was lifted high and enveloped until he was regenerated.
His face and body were the same, but his brow was set, and the look in his eye had turned wicked.
"Is there a reason you look so sad? What's happened?"
He still had concern. You stared in shock and uncertainty as he approached you as he always had, with gentleness and calm. His touch on your cheek was the same.
"What's wrong? Are you okay? Speak to me."
"I.. Let's.. Let's get out of here."
He seemed so confused. "Oh. Ok... Where would you like to go?"
"Anywhere. I'd go anywhere with you."
He didn't remember. He didn't understand that he was different. He didn't understand what you'd just done to him.
You took his arm like it was your lifeline, taking in his scent and his warm. It was hard to regret when you had him back like this and so close.
He could never know, you determined. For his own sake and for yours. You would be with him always and be his reasoning. Single-handedly (no pun included), you would protect him from himself and redeem him at any cost while hiding what you'd done.
"Sweetheart, you seem off lately. What's been on your mind and don't say 'nothing,'" Killian stalls, watching you from the door of the Captain's quarters... his and your quarters. You thought he'd gone.
It's been over a month at sea with him and his rancid crew since he's returned to piracy as Captain Hook, as though he's never left. You've seen evil in him that you've never known.
He's manipulated, murdered, lied, and pillaged. He's done it all indescriminately, with no mercy. He's overtaken the weak, the old, the young, and the feeble. He does not blink to murder nor does he care. He didn't even waste a second in hesitation when he got Merlin killed. Merlin. His mentor.
What's worse, you've failed horrendously in bringing him into the light. Every passing day comes with difficult decisions and results in deaths. You've done terrible things to stay by his side.
It's hard to see yourself this way, plunged so deep into villainy, but you won't look back if it means you'll be together with Killian.
He needs you. You need him.
"I'm fine. I was thinking about the seige on DunBroch. How will we destroy King Fergus and his army? His daughter, Merida. She's also a problem."
"Is that what you're worried about?"
He takes you carefully into his arms, squeezing you hard like he's afraid you'll disappear. You have been distant, despite your thoughts always being on him.
"You don't have to worry about me," you reassure, gripping the black leather sleeves of his jacket for grounding.
If you push the world from your mind, you can almost pretend for a moment that everything is perfect and he was never shot. The two of you never turned down a dark path. Everything is fine.
You pull him into your fervent kiss, your desperate tongue seeking his in an effort to escape with him into a miracle. Your hand tossles in his soft brown hair. His skin is flushed and warm.
You nudge him toward the table, where you splay yourself over the large tattered map, your bottom half on DunBroch, and your top on Fairy Tale Land.
You've been wearing black leather in solidarity with Killian as his right hand, but that leather comes off and forms a pile on the cabin floor.
"Ooh," you grip the table as the ship rocks on the ocean, nearly throwing you. Killian grips you for stability.
You briefly wonder if you should check outside, but Killian reads your mind and protectively pins you. Your silent plea to be ravished despite the turbulence takes precedent.
"If we die, we die," he whispers, taking you on the spot with no protection. Your bare heat envelopes him. He's entranced by your pull and drunk on your pheromones, falling into your neck, nibbling and grazing down your body with unending kisses that lay their claim with dark bruising on your brown skin.
His dick pulses inside of you, teasing your pleasure receptors with textured grinds and swelling pressure as you both fight gravity in the name of sex.
"Captain! Captain!" The mangy crewmates bellow and panic on the deck.
You tear away enough to reason that sex will always be there. The important thing now is to ensure the safety of this ship. Nudging him doesn't work. You have to push. Finally, he heads out with you quickly redressing, grabbing anything to stay upright.
"Well well well if it isn't Captain Hook and his one true love," a goose-like thin white woman grins. You look at Killian. It's clear by the sword raised to her narrow pale throat that he's never seen her as far as he remembers.
But you have.
"Ohhh," she pouts, flicking the tip of the sharp sword like it's wood. "You could use that if you'd like, but it wouldn't kill me. Go on... Try it."
Killian didn't hesitate. He ran her through, but she pulled it out with a roll of her eyes.
"Pathetic. I thought you were the mighty Hook. Guess I was wrong."
"Who are you," Killian squints as you look on, unsure of what to do. Her appearance is so sudden. If you charge, you look suspicious. If you don't, she may talk.
"My oh my has she kept a lot from you," she teases to Killian.
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't listen to her Killian," you finally speak up. It's your first mistake. Now he's suspicious of you.
"You know her?"
You can't lie. Not about this. "Yes... She's the Wicked Witch of the West."
"You killed my sister," she grins, seething with evil intent as she approaches Killian. It's clear she's caused the waters to rock upon boarding the ship, broom in hand.
Killian is shaken for the first time since he's come back to life, but he's never backed down from a fight. He's willing to die right now.
"STOP," you step forward quickly.
"I don't think I will," the wicked witch grins, releasing a howling cackle toward the sky as she summons a lightning bolt to strike Killian dead.
He shakes and sizzles like he's stuck as he's being fried before your eyes and the crew who watch idly in fear.
That lightening would've killed any one of them easily. It would've killed Killian... If he were mortal.
He looks at himself in awe, not a scar, not a scratch. He knows as well as you that survival was impossible, yet here he stands.
"And now you know the truth," says the witch. "That you have been betrayed by the only person you've ever loved more than yourself." She grins, watching it register in your eyes and Killian's. "How I love that broken look. Everything taken from you."
You can't deny that he's standing before you unharmed, but you can try your best to explain why you did what you did to him in that meadow.
"You lied to me?" He stares, waiting for you to tell him something. Anything. "You've been lying to me this whole time."
"I couldn't lose you," is your truth. You stood on it then, and even if he never forgives you, you still stand on it. "I need you in my life, Killian. And you didn't deserve to die."
"Yes. I did," he says with no hesitation. All warmth leaves his eyes, and his brow sets, ice cold. "I told you. I didn't want this. Now I'm stuck this way forever, and it's because of you."
The venom is palpable. There's despair, rage, and most of all, the pain of betrayal.
You try your best to appeal, telling the entire truth. Everything. You love him so violently and passionately that you will do anything.
"Anything?" His tone lifts, interested. It's not the same interest you're used to. It's sinister. The interest he shows to those who cross him. It's a vendetta. "If what you say is true... and you did curse me for eternity because you love me... step onto that plank."
He raises his sword to you and backs you up onto it when you stand in front. The point of the metal in your back, you hover over dark and deep water, cold and full of unknown danger. It's a sure death with no islands in proxemity to swim to.
"Ah ah," he tuts as you turn to look at him, your once charming love. "You said anything or did you lie about that too?"
"It wasn't a lie that I love you," you maintain. "That'll always remain."
"Oh yeah?" He smirks, nudging you further to the wavering and creaking edge.
You're seconds from a steep drop, but even so, your mind is on Killian. You did this to him. You took a man who, with hard work and discipline, had done a 180 with his life, and you put him back where he started. You knew if he ever knee the truth there was a strong chance you'd lose him forever and now forever had come.
"Any last words?"
"Death can't stop love."
You see the break in his expression. It's only a second, but it was there.
He quickly recovers, leaning in to grit his own finishing line.
In the end, it's his sword going directly through your gut that ends it. He looks directly into your brown eyes, content to rip the blade out of you causing pain both ways.
There's no more regret in his eyes.
You fall off the edge of the plank, content to disappear from his life forever as a body lost at the bottom of the sea.
The people who say drowning is painless... have never drowned before.
Once you dipped beneath the cold surface of the near-black waters, you lost all oxygen and gradually lost your body heat as well as blood.
The salt water burned your lungs on entry, and as you sunk deeper, your lungs filled. You didn't even struggle.
The light disappeared. You lost all sense of direction, floating blind and weightless in pitch black.
You didn't mean to hurt Killian. You never wanted any of this to happen, especially him finding out like this.
But there was something else he didn't know that both you and the witch had neglected to tell him.
Despite the burn in your eyes, you swim as long as it takes to see a glimpse of light. From there, you push to the surface and swim searching for land and fighting fatigue.
You didn't have the heart to tell him, lest he think he could never escape you. He wasn't your slave nor your toy. You weren't playing with his heart or trying to control him.
If he wants, you'll stay away. You won't see him. You won't be there no matter how much it hurts you because at the end of the day you will always love him.
Six Months Later
You're at a pub bar in Storybrooke, your home, when you look to your right and spot Killian, but return to your lemongrass drink.
He comes to sit beside you, but you're used to that. Wishful thinking.
"Beer," he requests from the bartender, taking a big sip and hesitating with his hook tapping the tall glass. "I might have... overreacted," he says.
It's off script from what you typically torture yourself with through memories. He touches your hand, and it's like you wake up.
It's him. He's actually there.
"How did you know I was alive," you ask, genuinely surprised that he'd seek you out.
"I knew as soon as that witch stabbed me. If I was a dark one, you were too. You were always that way. You wouldn't hurt me without hurting yourself." He sighs, wondering how to word what he wants to say. "I've been angry, but I'm realizing that part of that anger... is the curse, not you. I don't hate you, not anymore. I just don't think we can ever work out again."
You get a better look at him, seeing he still looks like himself. His eyes have softened, just a little.
"I've been working on my journey, trying bit by bit to change myself. I did it once when I was in love with you. Maybe I can do it again."
He looks hopeful. You smile at him.
"Maybe," you agree. "I believe in you."
He hesitates to speak and you use the opportunity to touch the warmth of his face, watching it slightly redden before he gently pulls away.
"What have you been up to?"
"Working... in Baker's Man Bakery, making cakes as quickly as possible. Those cakes are in high demand."
"You were always good at that," he nods. "You were good at a lot."
"Thank you..."
He takes a large gulp of his beer, and you sip your lemongrass, feeling awkward. There's a lot of dead air between you, but it's full of emotions. You remember moments like this with him before the bad things happened.
"What's funny," he asks.
"I was just thinking of the petty arguments we used to have then we'd sit there awkwardly just like this, trying to find some sort of mutual excuse to make up without admitting fault."
"It was a team effort," he smiles genuinely at you for the first time in a long time.
You'll take it. Quickly, you look away so as not to ruin it, deciding to change the subject.
"I hear the beer in New Wonderland is ins-"
The soothe of his lips on yours erases the thoughts you were thinking. His kiss is like a balm that calms the burn in your heart. He grips your head as he takes your tongue hostage. You taste his alcohol as well as the months of his frustration. Opposed to what you so deeply want, you pull away to keep things between you on a positive end.
"Maybe one day, when... If... I'm able to change like before... we could-"
"Sure," you nod, willing to take that deal. "Come find me."
"I won't be immortal anymore if that happens," he stares. "Neither will you."
You knew that a long time ago. Your lives are connected. You hug him once and watch him leave on his complicated journey to shed the evil once more.
The next time you see him, there's a strong possibility that both of you will be mortal once again. He'll be the Killian you fell for, and you'll be stronger.
@dashhoney25 @lettidarawest @soufcakmistress @ljstraightnochaser @princessstevens-blog @eye-raq @thiccdaddy-mbaku @destinio1 @iamrheaspeaks @hidden-treasures21 @bidibidibombaclaat @forbeautyandlife @blowmymbackout @misspooh @thotyana-in-this-hoe @purplehairgawdess @thegucciwaffle @goddessofthundathighs @theegoldenchild @thadelightfulone @sultanabby @mysticalblackhottie @baekhyunbabybunni @fd-writes @richonne4life @goldieccentric @thehomierobbstark @capswife @blackpinup22 @harleycativy @lishabaybeee-blog @playgurlxoxo @beaut1fulone-blog @blackerthings @syndrlla97 @ladymac82 @browngirldominion @prettyisasprettydoes1306
#original#once upon a time#killian jones#killian#killian jones x reader#black reader#black fanfiction#once upon a time fanfiction#spooky szn
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