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#pls forgive me for being quiet for so long

bones-aa · 11 months

Text

Yan!MIGUEL O'HARA (platonic)

warnings; obv possessiveness, creepy shit, Miguel 'feral' O'hara.

i just watched ATSV and I am OBSESSED with the thought of Miguel being this overprotective dad for a spider-kid. so here's a lil oneshot for you :))

Obviously SPOILER WARNING FOR ATSV, so shoo shoo if you haven't watched the movie

Miguel watched you, it's wrong but he had been watching over you since he had first asked you to be in the spider society. He watched you as you strolled through the Spider-society, laughing as Hobie told you a joke, your smile. it was warm and wide, your laughs could easily melt anyone's heart. And it melted his cold, hurt heart. He felt protective of you, how a father would for his child.

And ever since, Miguel felt protective and he obsessed over you. From your health, to how you were doing, things he would normally never care about. Especially when it came to teens, usually he would leave it up to Jessica to deal with the younger spiders. But with you, he felt like he had to protect you. And that he did.

When he first found you hurt on a mission, he felt something snap, it was as if he was possessed. He tore into the villain as if they were nothing.

Ever since then , you couldn't see him the same, every time you saw him you hid. You noticed how he changed around you, the amount of times that he had benched you because of some minor injury that wasn't even related to the missions he sent you on. Miguel became suffocating.

He noticed it, he noticed how meek you were around him. Your sunshine personality toned down around him as you timidly bowed your head around him. You were the closest thing to a child he had, ever since he let his daughter slip through his fingers. There was no way he would let you do the same.

This time was no different, he had called the 5 of you down to his space for a mission briefing.

"Fuck, I really don't wanna go." You whined as the hologram of him went back down in your watch. "I mean, we can ditch if you want. Y'know I'm down." Hobie said as he shoved his hands into his vest.

"Ughhh, I've missed like 3 of his dumb meetings, Jess said if I didn't want to get kicked out of this society I'd have to attend this one." Hobie shrugged.

"And? The entire point of being a spider-person is so that you could do anythin' you want. So fuck him, let's ditch that prick, alright?"

You laughed but then sighed, your shoulders sagging. You were going through something similar to what Gwen was going through. Your parents had found out that you were the spider-person in your dimension, when Miguel had found you, you were on the bridge of getting thrown in prison for being a vigilante.

He took you in, and your were stuck in HQ's dormitory for the time being. You were terrifed that the moment you went back home you were going to get thrown out on the streets or arrested by your dad.

"You know why I can't just ditch." You said, Hobie nodded. "Right, yeah I forgot. Sorry you can't just stay at my place, Gwendy took the only other shitty mattress I have."

"Eh, don't worry about it." You said as you kicked the non-existent gravel away. "Where are the others?"

"Oh, they're just finishin' up some mission, said that they're coming a little later." Hobie said as they got to what Hobie called Miguel's 'cave'.

"Y'know what lil' spider, Imma get goin', can't stand that knob right now." You rolled your eyes at that nickname as he ruffled your hair. He walked away, giving you a two fingered salute. "Yeah, yeah, what a great friend you are for abandoning me."

"You'll survive mate, you're tough like me." he says as he disappears into the brightly colored portal. You grumbled to yourself as the portal closed behind you.

"Tough my ass, god I hate that British asshole sometimes." You grumbled some more, you fiddled with your watch a little before a small hologram of Jessica pops up. "Heeeey Jessy-"

"Oh so you finally decided to show up hm?" You wince slightly at the tone and laughed it off awkwardly. "Harsh, but, valid. Sorry for missing all those briefings Jess, can you let me in...?"

You saw as the hologram sighed and the giant doors open, a gust of wind hitting your face. You sputtered a little before walking into the cold room, you walked up to the intimidating Spider-woman and grinned sheepishly at her.

"Finally listened to me, the threat worked right?"

"Oh yeah, definitely, scared the shit outta me." You nodded aggressively as you said it, Jessica let out a little laugh. "I was kidding by the way, Miguel would've murdered me if I kicked you out." She whispered as she walked up towards the platform as it descended.

You shivered. murder. You always heard, at least in your time at the spider-society, that superheroes never killed. But what you saw, what he did, it was burned into your head.

"Where are the others." Miguel's deep voice boomed, interrupting your thoughts. "We sent Pav, Miles and Gwen on a mission, they said that they would be here in a few minutes aaaand Hobie...?" Jessica turned to you.

"Oh!- Oh right uhm he said he didn't wanna come." You trailed off, Miguel sighed and muttered a few curses under his breath. "Y/n, you can inform him of the mission right?"

"Totes! Ahem I mean, totally yeah." You coughed, you felt as your face heated up. You wanted to curl up and die right there and there, why couldn't a portal open up below you and transport you literally anywhere else.

Miguel on the other hand thought you were adorable, how embarrassed you looked as you tried to hide behind Jessica. He wanted to scoop you up there, hold you close to him. He had to be patient.

"Alright," The platform finally descended down to the ground, allowing Miguel to walk down and near you. Yay, the last thing you wanted. He easily towered over you, his hulking mass of muscles were intimidating.

"You're not going on the mission." He says after he stares at you.

"...What?!" You exclaimed, earning a confused look from Jessica as well. "Right, we need all of them for this particular mission. Miguel, what are you talking about?"

"I've made up my mind, take Ben with them." He says to Jessica, his tone firm. Jessica wants to speak out but she shuts her mouth, walking out to talk to Ben.

"I- wait, no this is wrong, I've been benched for the past 3 fucking weeks-"

"Language."

"What?- That doesn't matter, just listen to me." You practically begged him. He let out a long sigh as he walked away, you followed behind him. "I swear I won't do anything reckless on this mission, I haven't been on a mission with my friends in too long. I'm missing on things."

"It doesn't matter, mi hija, it's too dangerous." He slightly turns his head. You scoff. "What, you think I'm not strong enough? I'm as much a spider-person as any other fucking spider-people in this society."

"LANGUAGE." He turns around sharply, fangs bared as he yelled at you. You flinched backwards, stumbling a little at the harshness of his voice.

"Mierda- sorry, I didn't mean to-" He says, you were backing away from him, memories from that night came back again. "Sorry for scaring you, I didn't mean to hm?" He tried going closer to you, he could see the fear in your eyes, how you cowered from him.

"Please don't look at me like that." Now he was begging you. He stalked closer to you, grabbing onto your arms harshly bringing you closer to him.

"N-No, stay back. You killed- you killed that man I-" You were hyperventilating, you couldn't catch your breath as the memories came back.

"He hurt you, I did it to protect you." He muttered darkly, but it still had an eerie hint of softness behind his words. He admitted it, he fucking admitted it. "And this, this is also to protect you, you'll understand in time, kid."

You were too busy struggling to notice what he wanted to do, he barred his fangs again and bit your neck, you gasp sharply at the sudden pain in your neck, you felt the feeling in your upper body start to lose control. You fell limp in his arms, you could feel him brush your hair from your face.

"I'm doing this to protect you, every time you come back from missions with injuries my heart aches." Miguel says as he brushes away the tears from your cheek. "That's why I've benched you, I can't lose you, you're mine."

You looked up at him as he looked back down at you lovingly, it was sickening. You couldn't move, the pain from the bite was throbbing as you felt yourself being lifted up. You felt small as his figure dwarfed you as he stood up, cradling you to his chest.

"I'll protect you, no matter what it takes." He whispers into your hair.

A/n: Ok this got out of hand, I am extremely inspired though I might make a follow up to this :))

we love a crazy dad around these parts, also hi i didn't die, i'm back with a new obsession teehee

#yandere platonic #platonic yandere #yandere #yandere miguel o'hara #x gn reader #yandere spiderverse #parental yandere #pls forgive me for being quiet for so long #only to come out with random shit #also #this shit is not proofread sorry for any mistakes in this

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lonely-cowboy · 3 months

Note

HEY HEY CAN I REQUEST ANYTHING FLUFFY W CONNOR X FEM READER

YOU WORK IS SO GOODDD

MY DARLINGS FORGIVE ME

requests started coming in hot right as i started my midterms so pls forgive me for taking so long to get through my requests (which i'm loving btw i'm so excited to get to all of them)

with that being said i'll stop yapping and let you read in peace

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

framed

pairing: connor (rk800) x f!reader

summary: you're very confused when you find a photograph of yourself on connor's desk.

word count: 1k

warnings: none

author's note: i said i'm done yapping and i mean it i have nothing to say. (except i do wanna say this was inspired by the person that said my connor was very you are in love coded bc that made me happy and got me thinking)

masterlist ⟡ requests

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“What do androids do in their free time, anyway?”

“Plot against humanity? I dunno.”

Hank’s laugh came out in a quiet huff, one that indicated he didn’t think your answer was too far from the truth.

You had come into the precinct hoping to interview Hank and Connor on their latest investigation surrounding a human cult determined to wipe out every single android. As head journalist for the Detroit Free Press, you were desperate to get word before everyone else. And as Connor’s friend, you were sure you could sweet-talk it out of him.

But when you got to the precinct, Connor was, strangely, nowhere to be found. Usually, he trailed behind Hank like a lost puppy, but not even Hank knew of Connor’s whereabouts. His unusual absence only led to conversations about what the hell an android could be doing on his lonesome. Neither of you had any clue.

“Have a seat, kid,” Hank offered, nudging his chin over to Connor’s desk. “You know he’d feel bad if you were standin’ around waiting for him.”

Rounding the table, you took a seat in Connor’s chair. You sat stiffly with your hands atop your thighs, the exact same way Connor would. The realization made you chuckle softly to yourself. Even when he wasn’t here, his presence always made itself known in the subtlest of ways.

Your eyes wandered across Connor’s desk, noticing that it was relatively barren. Hank’s desk was littered with mementos– old donut boxes, Detroit Gears merchandise, anti-android propaganda that he’d crumpled up and intended to trash. But Connor’s desk was plain and organized. A single blue pen sat exactly parallel to his recent case file that had been neatly folded. On top of his case file was a quarter like the one he always fidgeted with. You wondered idly how many quarters he had lying around, having never seen him without one. But the only belonging of actual interest was a picture frame right beside his terminal.

Your brows furrowed as your gaze latched onto the photograph. You were staring directly at a picture of yourself.

Believing it to be a trick of the light, you reached for the picture frame and brought it closer. Sure enough, it was you.

You stared at a version of yourself who was mid-laugh. You could almost hear your own laughter ringing in your ears. It was that genuine kind of laughter, you knew. The kind that was an obnoxious cackle you always wanted to hide. Why on earth would Connor have a picture like that framed?

Come to think of it, where did Connor even get this picture? You didn’t recognize it at all. You couldn’t even place where it was taken. There were zero clues in the photograph as you were the only focus. Nothing else, just you.

You were about to ask Hank about it when a voice over your shoulder startled you, “I really like that picture.”

An inhuman yelp escaped your lips as you spun around in Connor’s chair. You found him looking down at you with a pleasant smile, not even remotely embarrassed to be caught having a photo of you.

“Why… what even… what?” you stammered.

Connor cocked his head curiously, waiting for you to get your words out. But you couldn’t. You were so utterly confused that your brain couldn’t remember a single word in existence. You just stared at Connor with a gaping mouth, holding the picture up for his viewing pleasure.

When you didn’t say anything, Connor’s eyebrows furrowed for only a moment before easing. An endearing habit of his that made your heart flutter. He definitely was not helping you find the right words.

“I’d like to clear your confusion as best I can, but… I’m afraid I don’t understand its cause,” Connor said gently.

From behind, you heard Hank’s quiet snort. He wasn’t helping either.

“Well… Connor,” you started slowly like you were gradually putting the puzzle pieces together. No matter how hard you tried, the pieces weren’t fitting. “Why do you have a picture of me?”

The corners of his lips raised into a small grin, his hands moving to clasp in front of him. You knew this stance to mean he was about to tell a story.

“I asked Lieutenant Anderson about the keepsakes on his desk. I was curious as to why these particular items were objects of significance and what classified them as such,” Connor explained cheerfully. “As I recall, he said ‘I don’t know, they’re just alright, I guess.’ Perhaps my interpretation was incorrect, but I took that to mean those items made him happy.”

Connor’s smile widened slightly. That meant he was finished. He didn’t clear any of your confusion.

“Okay…?” you prompted.

“I wanted to do something similar. I thought it could help me accommodate to deviancy, so I decided to surround myself with things that make me happy.”

Your mouth clamped shut as your confused look turned to one of shock. You were almost sure you hadn’t heard him right, but another laugh (hidden behind a cough) from Hank made you confident that you had.

“I… make you happy?” you clarified.

“Yes,” Connor answered curtly. There was another long pause as you waited for Connor to continue. He seemed to get the hint by now, elaborating further. “I always enjoy your company. I look forward to seeing you when we have scheduled plans. This wasn’t a scheduled visit, so I was pleased to see you were here. It made me smile. Seeing you makes me smile.”

With all his talk of smiling, you couldn’t help cracking one of your own. Seeing your smile made Connor brighten.

“Like that,” he said. “If I could photograph and frame you right now, I would.”

You were so giddy with affection that you couldn’t help but laugh. You had never known Connor to be so poetic with his words.

“You know, Connor,” you said with careless laughter. “I came here to sweet-talk you into an interview for the Press. But here you are sweet-talking me.”

Connor looked pleased with himself, standing a little straighter. “I hope that made you smile.”

“It certainly did.”

#detroit become human #connor x reader #dbh connor x reader #rk800 x reader #dbh connor #connor rk800

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rinslutz · 9 months

Note

Can i order uuuhhh a dose of second chance romance with satoru? You broke up with him because his ass cheated but now that you guys are starting over, you can't help but still doubt his efforts. (having massive trust issues) but he of course promised to do whatever it takes to gain your trust again. Lots of reassurance pls. We love a devoted Satoru ☹️🤞

ᥫ᭡ “AFRAID” — GOJO SATORU

ㅤꞋꞌꞋꞌ fem!reader, hurt/comfort, exes to lovers, mentions of cheating, gojo pleads on his knees, gojo is pathetic, reassuances

a/n: anon…you awoken something in me. this is much longer than i wanted it to be and its a bit more than you asked for, sorry.

2 weeks 4 days 15 hours 56 minutes 12 seconds. that’s how long it’s been since satoru last saw you. he wishes he hasn’t been keeping track of the time but it’s the only thing keeping him from succumbing to his sadness. he hates himself for being sad. he doesn’t deserve to feel sad. all of this is his fault.

satoru has been wallowing in his self pity for the past 2 weeks. if he didn’t have a class to teach, he’s sure he would never move from his bed. school and home. those are the only two places you’ll find satoru. so when suguru notices that he hasn’t seen his loser best friend in 2 weeks he “kidnaps” him as satoru claims.

“have you even tried talking to her?” suguru asks nonchalantly. satoru’s nose crinkles in annoyance. why would he ask such a stupid question?

“she doesn’t want to speak to me.” satoru says dryly. this conversation is already starting to frustrate him. he runs his hands down his face.

“did you try though?” satoru is convinced that suguru’s only goal right now is to annoy him. if he wanted to talk about his failing relationship with him, he would’ve called him weeks ago.

satoru sighs obnoxiously, “of course i haven’t. she probably doesn’t want me within 10 feet of her. she hates me.” saying that aloud for the first time makes his eyes burn with tears. he rubs them furiously, not wanting to cry in front of suguru.

“so,” suguru pauses to chew the chips he’s been snacking on the whole time. “you mean to tell me you cheated on your girl, she kicked your ass out, and you’re not begging on your knees for forgiveness right now?” suguru’s statement and the crinkling of his bag of chips send satoru’s annoyance into overdrive. he snatches the bag from suguru’s hands, balls it up, and throws it into a nearby trash can.

“hey, don’t get pissy with me because i’m right.” suguru holds his hands up in defense.

satoru doesn’t reply. he is right though. satoru has convinced himself that he should try to speak to you because you wouldn’t want to hear it anyway. in reality, he’s afraid. afraid to face you. afraid to get confirmation that he has lost you forever. but if there’s even a slight chance that begging on his knees would work, he would do it immediately.

you hate him. you hate how even after what he did every part of him, every memory you made with him, every time he told you he loves you, still occupies your brain. the stupid smile still pops into your brain when you’re having a particularly bad day. you wish with some much in you that picturing his smile didn’t immediately make you feel better. it was that smile though. the smile that’s only reserved for you.

you wish you hated him for cheating on him. you’re just hurt. your chest hurts every day. every morning you wake up with sore red eyes from crying yourself to sleep. you hope he’s been crying himself to sleep too, though you doubt it. as desperate as satoru usually acts you expected him to try and contact you. at least once. you got nothing and somehow that hurt more than his infidelity.

the quiet night you’re having is interrupted by the loud and persistent knock at your door. you have no idea who it could be at this hour, so you don’t move immediately. maybe it’s a neighbor wanting to borrow something. if you don’t move maybe they’ll think you’re not here.

“baby?”

your head snaps to the door in surprise. almost immediately, tears spring to your eyes. it hurts hearing his voice for the first time in 2 weeks. you don’t move. you want to open the door but you know you shouldn’t.

“please…can we talk?” it's rare to hear him speak this softly. satoru’s loud knocks begin to soften. you reluctantly get up from your spot on the couch to open the door. you open the door but not all the way, only enough to see his face.

he stands there with red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. he stands there awkwardly. not sure what to do with his arms, they lay flat at his sides.

“can i come in?”

“leave.” you choke out. you refuse to cry in front of him.

“i can’t.” he steps closer to you. “i need to talk to you. i…i need you.”

you wish you didn’t say that. you wish he didn’t sound so broken when he said it. and because you’re weak for him you let him in. even though you let him in you don’t let him more than 3 feet inside.

you two just stare at each other for moments. his eyes rake over you, taking in every part of you. it felt like an eternity since he’s seen you, he had begun to convince himself that he forgot what you looked like. a stupid thought since he often stared at the small picture of you he kept in his wallet.

“i’m sorry.”

you laugh at that and satoru feels like everything is already falling apart. he’s already messed up. your bitter laugh makes the tip of his ears redden and burn in embarrassment.

“you’re sorry? that’s what you came here to say?”

he wants to tell you that it’s not true, but he didn’t come here to say sorry. he is sorry whether you believe him or not.

“you fucked someone else but you’re sorry so it’s okay right?” your voice is harsh and bitter. and if it weren’t for the tears streaming down your face he would assume you’re just angry. you’re hurt instead and he’s the reason why.

“no that’s not what i’m trying to say.” he shakes his head softly, “it’s not okay. i did the one thing you told me you could never forgive me for.”

if you didn’t love him you would laugh again. if you didn’t love him you would kick him out right now. but if you didn’t love him you would feel empty right and somehow that’s much worse.

“i am sorry. i wish i could explain why i did it-”

“cheated. you cheated. instead of saying “it” say the word gojo.”

he swallows that lump forming in his throat. the way you said his name burned his ears. the bitter tone and the fact that it was his last name.

“i cheated and i regret it so fucking much.”

unconsciously he reaches to grab your hand. when you don’t pull away, he grips your hand tighter. if this is the last time he ever gets to touch you, any part of you, he wants to remember the way your soft skin feels against his. he wants to memorize the way your hand fits perfectly in his and the way your hand warms his cold fingertips.

“i love you so much and i need you. i know you don’t need me but i don’t know what i’m doing. i-i can’t think straight, i can barely breathe when i’m not near you.” he has to swallow again to keep from crying.

“i hate you.”

“i know. i hate me too.”

when you don’t say anything satoru thinks he’s making progress. your eyes don’t hold the anger that they once did. then you pull your hand from his and satoru swears the earth shakes. he pulls his hand back to his side. he clenches his fists, his fingernails pierce his skin. he hopes the pain will distract him from the pain of his heart being ripped out of his chest.

“please,” he says weakly.

you don’t want to give in. he’s done nothing to deserve your forgiveness. you hate yourself for wanting to pull him against you to wipe away his tears. you hate yourself for wanting to forgive. you hate him for sounding so sincere.

“how can i ever trust you again?” satoru doesn’t know how to answer that. you shouldn’t trust him again. satoru is confident that he’d never betray your trust again because the pain of being apart from you like this again very well might kill him. and he’d rather died than hurt you again.

he knows that there’s so way for you to be certain that he won’t hurt you again. you can’t see into his brain or his heart. you can’t see the way his soul yearns to intertwine with yours again, forever.

before he can answer suguru’s stupid voice fills his head. “you mean to tell me. you cheated on your girl, she kicked your ass out, and you’re not begging on your knees for forgiveness right now?” he knows he deserves to beg on his knees. you deserve to have him pathetically beg for your forgiveness.

so, without another word, he bends down on his knees. he grabs both of your hands in his and looks up at you. his heart beats heavily in his chest.

“i will never hurt you again. i promise. i will do anything you want me to in order to prove it to you.” his knees were already beginning to hurt. this pain is nothing compared to the pain he’ll feel if you never forgive him.

“you don’t have to forgive me. you shouldn’t. i’m just asking for a chance to prove myself to you.” he grips your hands tighter, afraid you’ll pull away again.

you’re sure you're making the dumbest decision of your life. you’re weak for him and you may always be. when you left him the night you found out he cheated, you left with your heart still in his hands. tonight, you’ll let him keep it for a little while longer.

“one chance. you fuck up even a little-” before you’re able to finish your sentence, your lips are pressed against him. one of his presses against the back of your head, keeping you pressed against him. the familiar warmth of his lips against yours makes you melt against him. you slowly and reluctantly wrap your arms around his waist.

a small sob slips from his lips, making you jump slightly. tears fall from his eyes again, wetting both of your cheeks. his arms grip you tighter, almost as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

“thank you,” he whispers against your lips

he’s late. for anyone in a normal relationship, this wouldn’t be that bothersome. unfortunately for you, you don’t completely trust your boyfriend. not a hundred percent.

it’s eleven pm and he was meant to be home an hour ago. you tried reasoning with yourself. maybe he is stuck fighting a curse? maybe the higher-ups forced him into doing something? you tried thinking of anything besides the one thing that’s nagging at your brain.

he promised and you believed him. you’re starting to think you’re an idiot for trusting him, trusting that he’d stay loyal. how could you have been so dumb?

you’re staying at his apartment tonight, per his request. he promised that he’d be home in time to catch the new episode of your shared favorite show. he broke that promise so what other promises will he break tonight?

you hear the sound of a key entering the door and seconds later it opens. satoru walks in quietly. there’s a certain look on his face that you cant read. you assume the worst. before you can think critically you shoot up from your spot on the couch and storm over to him.

“how was it?” your voice is bitter and you hate the way it cracks at the end. you hate the way your eyes are already beginning to burn.

satoru look at you, confused. he’s not sure what you mean or why you’re angry. he’s tired and he’s not sure he can deal with this right now. the events of today and the fact that he needed to stay at work later than usual is taking a toll on his body.

“baby, what are you talking about?” he reaches for you and you back away from him. for a second he feels the memories of that day flood his mind. the familiar way you back away from him, the familiar look in your eyes. you can’t possibly think that right now.

“no. hey, don’t let your mind go to that.” he successfully grabs your hand in his and pulls it to his lips. immediately you feel the harsh beating in your chest slow down.

“did you cheat on me?” you ask. you just want an answer now. you need to know if you’ll be leaving tonight or falling asleep in his arms as usual.

“no. i promised you. do you want me to get on my knees for you again?” the look in his eyes is unwavering. when you don’t answer he falls to his knees in front of you.

“a curse attacked a town and killed hundreds of people. it was pretty powerful and it took me longer than usual. that’s where i was. i promise.” he stares into your eyes. there is no hint of a lie to be found.

“i know it’s going to take you a while to trust me again. i will get on my knees every day and promise not to hurt if that’s what it will take.”

you feel like a fool even though you shouldn’t. he understands that you don’t trust him completely and he’s working toward that. you’re embarrassed even though he’s the one on his knees right now. you nudge his hand and motion for him to get up.

“i’m sorry-”

“no. you have nothing to be sorry for.” once he stands he grabs your face in both of his hands. one of his thumbs brushes against you bottom lip. his eyes are soft as he looks at you.

“i promise.” he doesn’t need to say what he promises. you know what he means. he pulls your face towards his and places a sloppy kiss against your lips.

“i love you.” you don’t reply but he knows you love him too.

©rinslutz

#gojo x you #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk angst #gojo angst #gojo satoru angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo

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blue-aconite · 3 months

Text

the offside rule || j.h.s

Summary: Jake learns that his girl is crazy about football, but not the kind he expected.

Warnings: jake being a sweetheart, no use of y/n

Word Count: 1.5k

Pairings: Jake Seresin x f!reader

Authors Note: This is inspired by @roosterforme's Sundays Are for the Boys and @teacupsandtopgun's Jake and Flick universe. This is also very self-indulgent and somewhat based on parts of my life.

“What are you doing?” Jake emerged from the bathroom, only to find his girlfriend on the couch, watching what looked like soccer.

“I’m watching football, what does it look like?” She didn’t take her eyes off the screen as she reached for the beer bottle on the coffee table.

Jake didn’t know how to respond. He knew what soccer was, he wasn’t an idiot but he never knew that his girl enjoyed the sport.

“Soccer, baby. It’s called soccer.”

Jake knew it was the wrong thing to say as she turned around, an unimpressed look on her face.

“I’m going to forgive you this time. But in the future, for your information, it’s called football. Not your ridiculous term soccer.” She was all business, a sharp edge to her tone that Jake hadn’t really experienced in their relationship so far.

There was a sparkle in her eyes that told him she wasn’t as serious as her tone suggested though. Jake flopped down on the couch next to her, plucking the beer out of her hands. “Is this MLS?”

She snorted, rolling her eyes as she looked him up and down. “MLS is a shit league. It only got interesting since Messi signed for Inter Miami and it’s still shit. You know, we call it the retirement league because it’s where all the greats come to wind down and just kick around.”

“Hey!” Jake protested. “Doesn’t it have a somewhat good reputation?”

She shook her head. “Baby, I love you but you’ve been greatly deceived.” She patted his cheek, opening another beer, seeing as he had stolen hers.

Jake grumbled, sinking lower into the couch. Granted, his soccer knowledge was limited but he thought that MLS at least was a popular league.

“What’s this then?” He pointed to the screen where the game was playing.

His girl clapped excitedly, tossing the cap onto the table. “This is the greatest league in the world. I give you the Premier League.” She dramatically spread her arms, as if showing him something of great importance.

In a way, Jake guessed that she was. He had no idea she was this passionate about this but he found it endearing that she did.

“I recognise that, it’s England, yeah?” Jake was 80% certain he was right but he could also be wrong. Like he said, his knowledge of soccer was limited.

“Yes! PL is played in England and it’s hands down the most popular and watched league. But there’s obviously others as well.”

He was a bit intrigued and Jake also wanted to know more about something that made his girl this excited. “Others?”

“Oh, you’ve got La Liga for example, and Ligue 1. And then there’s Serie A and Bundesliga. My dad used to watch a lot of Eredivisie too. He was a lifelong fan of Ajax.” She quieted down a bit at the end, a sad smile on her face as she remembered her dad.

Jake pressed a kiss to her shoulder, hand finding hers. He gave a supportive squeeze. He understood now why this was so important to her.

“Did you guys watch a lot together?” He asked as the game seemingly was paused, the players leaving the field.

“Yeah. He took me to my first game when I was 4. I barely remember it but I remember the feeling. And he coached my team for as long as I played.”

That surprised Jake. “You used to play?” It wasn’t something that had come up but he guessed it was somewhat of a sore subject.

“From the age of five til I was fifteen, maybe sixteen,” she paused. “Uh, I quit playing when he got sick. He wanted me to continue but it just wasn’t the same. It was our thing and then all of a sudden he wasn’t there and..”

Jake pulled her into his arms, lips pressed to her forehead. “Baby, why haven’t you told me about this before? I would have loved to know more about football if I knew it meant this much to you.”

She smiled when he called it football and Jake counted it as a small victory. “I honestly don’t know. You’re more of an American football fan and I just figured you didn’t care about this.”

“I would have cared if you told me. Hell, I know you don’t really care about the Cowboys but you still hang out with me when they play. And wear the jersey.”

She laughed then, leaning back from his embrace but kept their hands intertwined. “I wear the jersey because I know it gets you all hot and bothered.”

“Well, that’s definitely a perk. You do look very good in blue.” Jake kissed her then, hands sneaking under her shirt to trace her skin.

She was blushing when they pulled apart and Jake grinned, proud to be the one to make her that way.

“So is Ajax your team?” He asked, playing with the hem of her shirt.

“No. As much as I respect and enjoy Dutch football, the Premier League always called to me more. And then I fell in love with Manchester United.”

Jake’s eyebrows shot up, teasingly pinching her sides. “Fell in love, huh? That means I got competition?”

She rolled her eyes, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you for the Red Devils.”

“Good. Is this them then?” He gestured towards the screen, where the game had resumed.

“No, they play Aston Villa tomorrow. This is Newcastle vs Arsenal.”

Jake watched as the team in black and white kicked the ball back and forth. “Okay, you’re going to have to explain this to me. I know nothing.”

She launched into the game, explaining what was happening as well as informing him about the rules and terms. Jake tried his best to keep up but figured he was going to have to do some independent studying to catch up.

If this was important to his girl, it was important to him. He watched as she kept on talking, gesturing back and forth with her hands, eyes alight with excitement.

“But there must be leagues outside of Europe, yeah?” He asked after learning that the ones she had rambled off earlier were all based in European countries.

“For sure, but those are the most popular ones. And considering how much of an impact the Champions League, Europa League and Conference League have, it’s difficult for leagues outside of Europe to compete.”

Jake’s mind was reeling, trying to piece all the information together. “Wait, Europa League and Champions League? Conference? Where’s that?”

“All of those are played by teams in Europe. You qualify for UCL when you win your league in your country, and the second tier goes on to play in the UEL and third tier in UECL.” At Jake’s confused expression, she smiled apologetically.

“Sorry, this is way overboard. How about we keep that for another day and we just keep to the basics for now?”

Jake breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes please.”

She handed him another beer, smiling softly.

“So, do I get a Manchester United jersey? It’s only fair, I got you a Cowboys one.” Jake asked.

He was comfortably leaning back against the armrest of the couch. Initially he had tried to get her to snuggle with him but quickly found out that she wasn’t going to sit still while watching the game.

“Babe, you’ll get a jersey when you deserve one. Maybe earlier if you can explain the offside rule to me.”

He was screwed then. “Never mind. I’ll wait.”

“It’s really not that difficult. A player would be seen as offside if their entire body is in front of the last defender of the opposing team, on the opposing team's half.”

Jake tried to imagine what it would look like but his mind came up blank. “You’re just speaking gibberish, that doesn’t make sense.”

She smiled softly, a gleam in her eye. “Don’t worry, I’ll make you a football fan. Just you wait.”

“I can’t wait. I’m also very excited to see you watch your team play.”

The game was now over and she climbed into his lap, hands finding the back of his head. “Oh, you’re in for a wild ride.”

Making the most of their position, Jake grabbed a hold of her thighs as he stood up, ignoring her squeal as he headed towards the bedroom. “How about I give you a ride right now?”

Two months later, when Jake officially got the offside rule right, a package was waiting for him on the kitchen table when he got home.

His heart swelled as he pulled out a bright red Manchester United jersey, embroidered with his callsign on the back. There was a note inside the box as well and Jake laughed as he read what his girlfriend had written.

Now you’re a real football fan. Glory glory Man United!

Ps. Come find me ;)

“You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.” He called, jersey in hand as he stalked the house.

Her laughter echoed through the house. “Come claim your prize, cowboy.”

Taglist: @wildbornsiren @ryebecca @imjess-themess @reels-and-wheels @antiquitea @writercole @hederasgarden @yanna-banana @bobfloydsbabe @hollandorks @anniesocsandgeneralstore @ereardon @luminousnotmatter @roosterscock @thedroneranger @fandomxpreferences @honkytonk-hangman @princessmisery666 @bradshawsbitch @a-reader-and-a-writer @green-socks @angstybluejay @seresinhangmanjake @ayorooster@notroosterbradshaw @indynerdgirl @gigisimsonmars @girl-in-the-chairs-void @bradshawbabes @unhinged-btch @horseshoegirl @sadpetalsstuff @bradshawbaby @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @ummjustfics @septemberrie @somenamewithepineapple @seresinsweetie @crescentwolf @seresinhangmanjake @waklman @roosterforme @rosiahills22 @dempy @i0veless @ilovewriting06 @kmc1989 @demxters @amortentiadrops @teacupsandtopgun @hangmanscoming @hangmanssunnies

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #fe writes #fic: the offside rule #top gun maverick fic #jake seresin fic #jake seresin

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kalinysu · 4 months

Note

Muzan with wife reader who failed a mission and is trying to avoid him after he yelled at her? extra fluff pls

𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘. - Muzan x F!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: None/Small angst. (?)

𝐍𝗼𝐭𝐞𝐬: LAST thing i’ll write Muzan for a while. 😭

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You had been avoiding Muzan for days. At first, he didn’t take the time to realize as he had been far too busy with other things to pay your obvious distancing any mind. He also never thought of you being upset with him for something that he did so often. Yelling? He’s yelled at practically everyone.

But you, you were his wife. That was the first time he had yelled at you, and you thought that he would treat you differently because you were his wife. But he yelled and got really angry with you, just like every other demon. It hurt you, more than he realized. And the fact that the two of you hadn’t talked in days and he didn’t notice, or rather didn’t care that something was up hurt even more.

You had been cooped up in your room for a while, and nobody had ever checked up on you or anything at all, not even your own husband.

Not that you expected it, everyone had been busy with the demon slayers and such. But still, he was your husband, and he had to have even a little free time at some point. You were sulking in bed, losing track of time, until finally, someone had opened your door.

“Get up, do something productive, like finding me that flower.”

Your husbands deep voice rang out as he rummaged through your drawing and took something before leaving without another word. The fact that he was now telling you only to find the flower stung. He most likely thought you were incapable of doing anything else.

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Days had gone by now, you had nothing, and it seemed Muzan was only growing more and more irritated as time went by. You had lost all hope of him ever coming to see you for even a split second of affection.

You were outside, somewhere. An unknown location, simply sitting on a hill in the moonlight. The flowers were pretty, but you couldn’t take the time to admire them. You were far too lost in your thoughts. You didn’t care for the flowers if they weren’t the one Muzan wanted.

Suddenly, you noticed someone sit down beside you.

Your husband.

Neither of you spoke, even though you really wanted to. It wasn’t an awkward silence, the two of you just knew it wasn’t the right time to talk. Well, you knew. Muzan didn’t talk because he didn’t want to or feel like it. He’s always been like that. He rarely showed affection through his words, but you didn’t mind to much, especially not anymore. You had grown used to the small gestures of affection from a while ago, but now you were convinced they had stopped.

“.. My lord if.. If i’ve done something to offend you—“ You started, not looking at him as you spoke.

“You’ve been distant.”

You looked up at him. He wasn’t looking at you, not avoiding, but simply looking across the hills. “You haven’t spoke to me in so long.. You have only uttered few words but those were orders, and weren’t frequent either.” You said, hugging your knees.

“Am I supposed to come to you? What happened to you coming to me?”

Your husband said. It sounded cold, but you knew that wasn’t his intention. You usually always came to him, showing affection and in return receiving affection back. He was right, you never went to him anymore. But..

“It seems you’ve been mad at me..”

“I was mad, but that’s no reason not to come to me. I’ve been irritable lately with all these nuisances.”

“But if your irritated.. you don’t have to take your anger out o..” You trailed off, going silent before you could even finish your sentence as you noticed him glaring at you. Looking away uncomfortably you mumbled slightly. “..Nevermind— I.. It’s fine but—“

“Sorry.”

You blinked a few times, wondering if you were hearing things. You looked back at him. “Hu—“

“I don’t like repeating myself.”

You went quiet.

“Your supposed to say you forgive me.”

“Right!!— I forgive you.” You said, still a little shocked he had actually apologized. You’d never heard that word come out of his mouth before, unless he was mocking someone but that was different.

“—‘My lord’?”

“—My lord.” You added, a small smile playing on your lips at the reminder. You leaned against his shoulder slightly, and in return, he placed a hand on your waist.

“Don’t avoid me like that again.”

His hand came up to your shoulder, pulling you closer to him, before he leaned down and placed a kiss on your head. When was the last time you had kissed him. You looked up at him.

“No.”

“No? No to what?” You said, with a fake innocence, before quickly giving him a peck on the lips before he could speak.

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#demon slayer #demon slayer roleplay #muzan #lord muzan #muzan imagine #yandere muzan #muzan x reader #demon slayer muzan #kny muzan #muzan kibutsuji #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #muzan x y/n #muzan x you #muzan headcanons #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba

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saintels · 1 year

Text

✮ ┆STFU (pink flame). ellie williams

warnings not proofread pls forgive me, dom f reader, smoking, toxic reader, ellie is whiny and subby and kinda a fucking loser in this, degradation, lesbian oral sex, high/drunk sex, like one pussy slap 942 words

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— “got you craving me all day. once you're in my state of mind, i’ll never let you escape.” DRABBLE

HER LIPS ARE GLUED TO YOUR SKIN the second you sit down beside her on the sticky leather couch, the vodka and tequila on her tongue burning as she sucks a fresh hickey into the side of your neck.

Her actions have your eyes rolling, completely unfazed as you pull out the small, pink metal case of pre-rolled joints from the waist band of your skirt.

Your hand pats around your body in search for that last essential element until Ellie holds it up to your face.

Pink tinged eyes linger over your lips as she lights the end of your tightly rolled CBD with the pink flames of your favourite Hello Kitty lighter.

You inhale, gently grabbing her cheeks to bring her lips to yours so you can blow the smoke into her mouth.

The transferred cloud of Honeyrose hemp fills her senses, lingering before she exhales.

Your eyes bore into her as she uses the same Hello Kitty lighter to light her own cigarette, letting it sit between her thumb and pointer finger as she moves to your neck again.

God, you mentally groaned, she was always this fucking needy when she was high.

You hurry her into a random bedroom in the house where the party was being held, pushing her down on the bed.

“Can’t even keep it in your fucking pants for a couple hours, El,” you mutter, annoyance lingering in your tone.

Ellie giggles, rolling her shoulders as she snuggles into the soft mattress beneath her.

Yeah. She was gone.

“Need you here,” she whines, palming her cunt through the rough material of her black jeans. Her fingers massage the area, desperately trying to satisfy the growing wetness between her thighs as she watches you stand between her legs.

Undoing the buttons of her jeans, you have them and her black briefs off in one swift pull.

The rose blunt still hangs between your glossy lips, the end barely glowing with embers as you stand to shimmer out of your skirt.

The denim hits the ground and your black tank top joins it shortly after.

Her hazed eyes are as wide as her body allows them to be when she’s that high, mouth hanging open.

“Always got your fucking mouth open.”

The black lace tickles as the thong drops down your legs. You kick it off your feet and you’re now left completely bare in the pale moonlight.

Ellie doesn’t even have a moment to think before she lets out a muffled grunt, the material now shoved in her mouth.

She moans and rolls her head back as she tastes your sickly honeyed remnants on her tongue.

“That should shut you up,” you mumble, sinking to your knees between her legs on the end of the bed, “Love the sound of your own voice or somethin’, need you to keep quiet for me now though, pretty baby.”

You don’t even allow her a mere five seconds to comprehend your words before she hears a loud smack and there’s a sharp stinging on her pussy. She chokes a gasp as her hips jolt.

Your nails graze her sensitive skin, spreading her lips.

“Look at this,” you tease, “fucking soaked just from that one shot-gun, huh sweetheart?”.

She nods, trying to murmur through the material of your lingerie but failing.

Your thumb flicks her clit, puffy and pink as it throbs for attention.

“So cute,” you whisper.

Your lips close around her rosy nub, a long mewl leaving her chest as she grips the bed sheets.

Long black nails dig into her thighs as your mouth is mercilessly aggressive against her cunt.

Her moans sound starved and rightfully so.

It wasn’t a 50/50 relationship. Hell, it wasn’t even 80/20.

Countless times, Ellie sat in her dorm all alone, accompanied by nothing but ‘The Office’ playing on the TV as white noise. Her fingers slip into her underwear, trying her best to rub all the right spots the way you do. But to no avail, she almost cries in frustration as she cums not even close to as hard as you can make her cum.

She knows you’re out doing anything except thinking of her. A drug run, smoking with your friends that she knew you touched probably all the same ways you did to her, showing your cunt to some random girl in a sorority house.

Her texts stay unread for six hours and she would still sit and wait for your attention like a puppy, brainwashed desperate and hooked.

“Been neglecting this pussy for too long, huh?” your voice is smooth but your words are sharp. You know exactly what you’re doing and you know exactly how it tears a hole in her.

Any drop of dignity left in her veins dries up as she whimpers, the coil in her stomach unwinding as she grinds against your face.

Your tongue runs up her creamy slit, the sweet taste silky on your taste buds.

She wriggles, trying to back away from your mouth.

“It’s fucking pathetic,” you lean back, lips and chin soaked with her release, “cumming this hard when I’ve barely even touched you.”

You fall beside her on the bed, pulling your panties out her mouth and throwing them to the floor.

Before she knows it, the familiar feeling of your smooth, pink rolling paper is between her lips. She’s quiet, watching as you pull the lighter out of her sports bra where she always stashed it for you.

The pink flame ignites and her mind is foggy again. Except now, all she can think about is you.

#┆ 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒂 ❀#ellie williams #smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #x reader #femal reader #lesbian #f x f #the last of us #the last of us part ii #part 2 #fanfiction #drabble #ellie williams x y/n #tlou

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manicrouge · 4 months

Text

An Ode to Serelia

[𝟷𝟾+, 𝙼𝙳𝙽𝙸] || Part Two

[𝙰𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚄𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎: 𝙶𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍!𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝚁𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚡 𝚂𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚗!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛]

[𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍]: 01/01/24

[𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝]: Displeased is the siren who weeps, a sister stolen leading to her finding the man who helps her to her feet.

[𝙲𝚠]: blood, graphic violence, torture, gore, body horror, violence, character death, murder, loss of a parent, angst, mention of suicidal thoughts, smut, loss of virginity, creampie, inexperienced!reader, possessive!Simon

[𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝]: 23,720

𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 If you're intrigued in the music I listened to writing, there's a link to the spotify playlist, enjoy !!

[𝙰/𝙽]: HIIII !! This is the story I mentioned the other day on my blog, it's here, it's written (hopefully to a decent standard) and it was a lot of fun to write and I hope you have fun reading it !! Also I did change up the appearences of sirens a little for the sake of being #unique and #different. Greek mythologies version would have been interesting, though I'm unsure how exactly a bird with the head of a woman would translate into a cod fanfiction so please forgive my creative liberties.

Also, there may be the possibility for a part two cause I have an idea if you would like that pls let me know!!

Comments are always appreciated, please let me know what you think... unless you think it's the worst thing you've ever read, then tell me, but in a nicer way pls, i.e. 'bless you, you tried' or 'hmmm, I've read better, good try though!'

(I'm very sensitive).

HAVE FUN!!

P.s. Rhymezone and me were besties while i was writing this. Also I figured out how to make the text tiny... I'm learning guys!!! And sorry for it being so long, tumblr was literally lagging near the end of writing this whoops.

Also!!! Share any request you have for me in my 'Ask me anything'!! I'd be happy to write more alt aus with different characters :))

Please don't post my work anywhere else without my permission !!

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Illuminated in the night, entranced by the tide, the sailors always come to you, such a mistake they make, too little too late, for they can never ever run. Foolish mortal men, sinking into the watery depths of a sirens den, for a woman in the sea is never just a friend.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

In the dead of night, you awake to a glow. It's seemingly stretching out its arms, calling out to you.

The orange light bends and warps with the movement of the sea, the rolling waves and glaring light for the moon creating a mixture of light which creates a celestial shimmer on the scales on your tail, reflecting off of your black eyes as you turn your head up in its direction.

The muscle in your chest is pounding, muffled words running through your ears as you keep your eyes trained on the light pushing its way from the shore all to make its way to you.

A full moon is never a good thing, although, submerged in the depths of the sea, you find it difficult to make out the shape of the glowing orb in the sky.

Her light confirms your worst fear, though, your eyes struggle to make anything out.

Even at night, the coral surrounding your bed is sleeping, nature reserving its strength for another troublesome day of battling against the grubby hands of the legged folk who rule both land and sea with an iron fist.

'Don't go meddling with the folks of the land, my dear, for trouble is the only thing ye shall find.'

It's the lesson of your mother which courses through your mind, like a shock of adrenaline through the body, a dopamine which has your hands trembling while sitting in quiet contemplation.

Land folk are dangerous, maniacs who believe they can possess the land and all that walks upon it.

To own the world, you would have to be mother nature herself, even then, her presence is discounted for because one of the land folk has in abundance what she lacks: golden coins.

You're familiar with these things, these little circular items they carry on their being, sometimes in small leather pouches, recalling a few of them being in the pockets of silly sailors who though they had the right to the place you and your sisters called home.

During their time spent, they toyed with the land as though she herself can not feel, taking and taking, so much so, you feared your initial silence to their actions would have resulted in you being damned for an eternity.

They massacred most of the fish, took your food as though it was theirs to take, discounting the creatures in the surrounding water. Greedy were the city folk, both of these golden things and your food, so, you followed the rule your mother had introduced.

Holding you on her lap, she looked at you and your delicate little frame, placing her hand against the wound on your tail.

Blood drifted in the the water, swirling with the current of the water and you sniffled in your mothers lap.

How terrible the wound was, throbbing as she plucked seaweed from out of the ground, using it to cover the cut.

The wound had been the fault of the land folk; they mistook you for a fish you supposed, though your little mind really didn't care to stop and acknowledge the truth of what happened.

The hook they had caught your tail with sat beside your mother and as she picked it up, she held it before you, watching as your eyes grew wide, nearly bulging from out of your little head as you began to squirm on her lap. What a monstrous little thing that contraption was, causing such hurt when it was the size of seashell. Keeping it in your view, she shushed you, opening her mouth, showing you her pointed teeth as she cupped your face with her other hand.

'My poor Urchin,' she lamented, 'it can do no harm now; it's not in the hands of the city folk, it's in mine,' she soothed, yet, despite her words you found that your throat was clogged as you recalled the morphed faces of the men who had caught sight of you when you had been caught.

'Is it because we hurt the bad people that they're doing this to the ocean?' you quietly asked, choking out your words as the gills either side of your neck opened.

It felt as though the hook had been stuck in your throat, ripping the insides as you struggled to the words out while sitting on your mothers lap. 'Are we bad people, mama?'

'No dear, we protect the sea and do the job the Lord made for us, it is the folks on her back who are the bad people, we're submerged in her soul, you see, keeping her from harms way and the cruel games of the true beasts,' she firmly stated, 'we hide from the enemy, covered in the current of what gives life to take the lives of those who are much too greedy for this world,' she lectures, 'so you mustn't pity the land folk; if they stray too far from their home and into yours, it is your duty to keep them away.'

'Even if we hurt them?'

'A lesson taught, is a warning sent, my dear,' she sweetly said, 'for a thieves broken neck is easy to repent.'

You acted that day as your mother had intended all those years ago: cruel, brutal, and unforgiving.

By the time you had finished, the water surrounding you was branded with their blood.

You gasped and choked, spitting out chunks of sailor from out of your teeth, plucking chunks of their cotton shirt out of your mouth the remains of a fish bone; it was far too stuck for you to use your nails, no matter how sharp they are.

You cleaned your teeth, watching as the bodies with their organs descended to the bed of the ocean with their gold coins in your hands while their pockets were filled with stones.

It was payment for their crimes and in death, they paid you to keep their bodies down, away from their families, for, you thought of the children on the coast.

They very well may be human, but they are undeserving of seeing one of their own in such a way.

You felt little when as you watched them sink, and upon reflection, all you ever feel is remorse for your silence.

Had you acted sooner, well, you suppose it would have saved you a trip to the deeper part of the ocean when hunting for food.

In the midst of your exhaustion you find your thoughts again, realising in your moment of contemplation, the little light grew closer to the edge of the coast.

Placing your hands against rocks, you push yourself from out of your reserved mellow cove, cocking your head to the side as you reach your hand outwards toward an orange fleck of light which greets you with open arm.

Exiting the cave, a flurry of bubbles pour pass your lips as their chants grow louder, as though they too are underwater.

Your pointed ears twitch as you push forwards through the water.

Your eyes are heavy as you push through the water, growing closer and closer to the source of the light, the sudden shift in the brightness causing them to sting.

You keep your eyes on the mysterious glow, rubbing your face with your hand, the long nail on your pointer finger catching the edge of your lip. Hissing, you watch as a faint trail of rouge seeps from your mouth, pressing the tips of your finger into the wound. Still, your eyes are unmoving, much too interested in the glowing beyond on the water.

Then, you hear voices.

It's the voice of humans, their low grumbles, cheers and chants causing the water surrounding you to vibrate from their ferocious tongues.

'I found one papa!'

Shifting, you turn your head towards the surface.

Whatever they have found is not for their hands, you sure of that much, and your stomach grows weary.

Oh, what catastrophe are they going to muster tonight? What are they going to use for sacrifice?

Your throat begins to knot, its as though someone is pressing their hands around the gills on you neck as your mind races.

One by the ocean is one of your own. Who else would have landed up on the shore? But it can't be, no it mustn't be; they're smarter than that.

No one else is awake at this hour, you have the consciousness of only yourself and the land folk.

Why would an Urchin be so far out that the spliced fingers of man could get to her?

No, they're in their caves, keeping their ears out for the horn of a ship, or perhaps the merry song of a sailor.

As you break the surface of the water, the waves of the ocean brush against your head, rain pouring from out of the sky, The breeze against your skin rendering you breathless.

You're guilty of feeling a crude interest take hold of you as you peer towards the sure, before ultimately deciding to succumb to temptation, following through your curiosity in the hopes to find what has caused such a disturbance.

It's difficult to see, your eyes are trained for the sea, you have little experience on land and the light above is much harsher than the gentle streams beneath the surface.

As you push forward, keeping most of your body underwater, your ears are greeted with more howling.

Their's excitement seeping from off of their tongues, they're bemused with their discovery.

Perhaps it's one of their rituals; you've found, through the time you have been watching them, they're terribly fond of the sacrifice of their own. Their disregard for the very thing they grew from is disheartening, a reflection of their characters.

Their form of sacrifice is truly despicable, against the order of nature, but they do not care for their own. One could be starving at a table full of food, the very table they set, yet, forbidden from touching a single thing all because of another's self importance.

Yet, it is you and your kind who are the monsters.

It's at times like this you long for your mother.

But, with the rain battering the backs of the humans as they form a circle around their special find, you find both her absence and the shyness of the moon leaves crude goosebumps covering your body as you shift in the water.

'MONSTERS,' a silk tone calls as you grow closer and closer, yet, you are forced to stop; the tide is upset, the moon displeased at such a display of savagery.

The thing in your chest stops, your webbed hands forming fists as you crane your neck forward.

'Monsters you are! Let me go,' the voice cracks as more cheering ensues.

'Cover her mouth,' demands one, 'keep her from singing her murderous song; her voice is as sweet as honeysuckle and it is her barbed tongue which has taken our brothers from us, and we will not let it take us! This is for the men we have lost to the creatures of the sea!'

You watch as the waves grow stronger, the rain landing with a slosh against the sea.

It's difficult to keep yourself in one place, both the fire in your chest and the shoving formation of the water urging you to go forward. You know her tone, though it is shredded and brutal as she speaks, unlike the sweet songs you savour.

Serelia.

'No!' she screams, ripping her vocal cords as you see a webbed hand appear from the circle of bodies, blood dripping from down a wound you spy on her shoulder.

Gripping the sand on the shore, the waves from the water brushing against the tips of her fingers and you feel the crashing body of water forcing you forward.

'Please, we would do no harm if you did none to—'

Opening your mouth, you will a tune to escape you, to pull them away from her to give her time to return to her home. Only, your much too choked up as water floods your mouth, the foul weather proving to work in mans favour.

Pushing yourself further up, you open your mouth, letting out a ghastly wrench as a sudden flood of coldness fills your veins, pulling at your tongue, keeping it pressed against the bottom of your mouth. Your lips quiver from the temperature as you attempt to pry a tune from out of your clogged up mouth.

'I- Illuminated—' you swallow another mouthful of water.

Her hand disappears.

You watch as a hand grabs her wrist, hearing her squeal and scream.

The circle of bodies disperses as you see the ends of her tail held in the forearms of a man.

There's a fire in your eyes, a fire enough to leave the sea bloody as your scaled skin and blackened eyes catch a patch of red staining the sand.

The sea betrays you as it sweeps up, carrying away grains of the red sand as the land folk hold their torches up in celebration as blood drips down onto the sand, the ruined blue scales of your sister turning purple in the light of the moon with the mixture of blood which pours from her wounds.

You watch in horror, hands slapping against the water as you look towards the moon nestled in the sky, peering down at you.

In the light of Luna, you recall her face.

Her innocent little face, doe eyes, cheery grin, how her nose would crinkle at the slightest accusation whenever she had done something particularly troublesome. The colour of her tail, how she looked when she sat upon the rocks singing her merry songs for the passersby to listen to.

A gift for the men she was, a gift spoiled by their grubby, wretched hands.

A sister as such spoke with a silk tongue, cohesive, one of your most prized possessions. A chest of jewels from horrid humans simply never compared to the life of one of your own, nothing.

Not even their dastardly golden coins.

Your head grows light as you keep your eyes trained on the humans marching forward, the light from the sticks they carry in their hands growing weary in the distance as the wind grows stronger. It's all too much, the sight of one of your own, the knot in your throat keeps you from gulping down necessary gulps of air. You feel nauseous, an icy chill freezing the blood in your veins.

Sinking back to the depths, your hand is forced and you're kept away from the dreary sight as the current drags you back under.

In the warped complexion of the surface, you see the moon still staring at you and you bark out in fury, 'you backstabber,' you roar, 'I saw my mother in you and you have betrayed our own for keeping you safe,' you continue onwards in your fury, your face contorting as you point up towards the surface.

'She has done nothing, as innocent as an Urchin can be, and you take her? Why not me?'

The current grows displeased.

'We give our lives, all our lives... my mothers,' you heave, placing a hand against your chest, 'I know not the secrets of the land, I don't possess the means to go upon the surface, how- how do we get her back? Why? Why would you take her and not me?' you choke out.

She shifts in colour, you spy her eyes growing red as you look upwards at her. 'She does not deserve to be a part of their game, neither did my mother,' you cry, 'take me, I'm offering myself up, leave her—'

There's a pull in the current, the rolling waves above the surface plunging downwards with a spiralling head.

You meet the eye of the storm, bubbles escaping your mouth as you bring your hands to cover your face. It hooks you, pulling you into as a ton of water comes crashing down into the small pocket of air you have become trapped in.

The last thing you catch before you're senses are flooded with darkness is the red glint in Luna's eye before you descend into the abyss.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

It's with the crude calls of village folk that he leaves his post.

There have been some form of disturbance for the past couple of nights, and after the first ending him standing on the shore of the town, his eyes being battered with the wind and sea, he found he has little interest in part-taking in the games of the fools. Fortunately, as he raises from his post, peering from out the window, he hears a shift behind him.

His eyes are unmoved by the chaos beyond the warning, his lids only lifting when he catches a child rushing ahead of the crowd of people.

His words are lost in the hollers of the crowd, though, he bounces with such excitement, the type that can only be likened to when a child gets money for chocolate, or even a new toy.

Only, he's acting as though he has won the biggest and best chocolate bar, his little head bobbing as he bounds down the cobble streets, his hand wrapping firmly around an elder mans wrist, tugging him along eagerly.

From behind him, he hears the scrape of a chair and a weary sigh. 'Another call for me? Swear, they cause mischief in the dark they do,' he comments with a hearty chuckle.

Turning away from the window, the red glow from the fire on the end of their torches lights emits an orange light in the room, though, the man before him is covered as stray arms of light stretch beyond his bulky frame, merely able to catch even the side of the man with a mohawk's face.

'Has Price told y' what they're up to? It's been every fuckin' night for weeks straight,' he asks, tugging down the edge of his mask, tilting his neck either side, a crude snap emitting as he does so.

The man standing in front of him offers him a toothy grin, crossing his arms over his chest with a short nod. Muscles bulge against the white cotton clinging to his frame and he readies himself by undoing the buttons on the cuffs of his shirt, pushing the sleeves to the crease of his forearms.

'Apparently, they're lookin' for merfolk or somethin', y'know what Captains like, doesn't 'ave the time for stupid shit like this,' he explains, 'read too many fuckin' fairytales if y' ask me. Couple ships disappear off of the coast and they believe a fuckin' fish did it?' He breaks out into a spell of roaring laughter. 'They call 'em sirens.'

'Sirens?'

'Aye,' nods the slightly shorter man, rubbing the stubble on his face with his hand. 'Sirens,' he adds, 'lore men to their deaths with their songs they do, supposedly, prettier than any lass on the land... sounds like a story written by a man, eh? Beautiful bonnie's with a good throat on em', paradise if y' ask me,' he proceeds to laugh even harder at his own joke, kneeling over as he does so.

It takes a brief moment for him to realise the masked man standing before him is unmoved by his comments.

Awkwardly, he comes to a sudden stop as he peers up at the man, slowly adjusting his posture, using his hands against his knees to steady himself as he notes the red lights behind him have disappeared.

'Suppose I should go and fetch them back,' he quietly grumbles, 'keep an ear out though, won't ya, Ghostie? Needa make sure they don't try n' sacrifice me to the sirens!'

'Affirmative,' he says briefly, turning his attention away from him, listening to his footsteps against the floorboards as he tucks his gloved hands into his pockets. 'Johnny,' he calls out.

The footsteps stop.

'Doesn't count if I find out y' went into the water to find them yourself,' he warns, looking over as the man nods his head, 'I'll drag you back in and sacrifice y' myself.'

'Gonna take more to get rid of me than that, Lt,' he answers, pushing the door open, 'throw a pint of ale in the sea, an' maybe, just maybe you'd get what y' want,' he laughs, walking out of the door with his hand pressing on the handle of the sword sitting at his waist.

The taller man stands and watches as he disappears into the dead of night, shaking his head in his direction.

'Fuckin' hell,' he grumbles to himself before turning his attention back to the chair he'd perched himself upon, grabbing the dagger he had set down onto the table, grabbing the cloth sitting beside it before kicking his feet back up onto the table, watching as Johnny disappears past the window, heading towards the crowd of chaos.

Turning his attention back to the dagger, he eyes himself in the refection, noting the redness of his eyes before rubbing the cloth over its smudge surface. 'Lost their fuckin' mind, can never excuse shit in a reasonable,' he grumbles to himself, 'better chance of Price quitin' smoking than there is the chance of fuckin' sirens,' he continues on, lifting his head when the candle perched on his desk flickers.

'Bloody lunatics.'

As he sat in the silence of the station, he finds his mind wandering. It's unusual for his mind to ever really escape him, although, with the sight of that little boy jumping up and down in such a manner he finds it difficult to shake a niggling feeling which is poking and prodding at his temple.

His excitement was evident, that much was obvious the longer he focuses on the memory.

If such is the case, if there is truly something behind the little boys excitement, he's there, sitting on his ass, doing absolutely nothing while the man is left to deal with everything to come from whatever has been found. There's something different about the tone of the people, he sees it well.

Terror trickles in, one head at a time, passing by the window in a manic flurry.

At first, he doesn't notice, far too interested in the blade he'd pulled from the sheathe resting on his belt to see the chaos unfolding beyond the window of the station. Their words a muffled, and they seem distant as he eyes the popped blood vessels in the white of his eyes. Moving the metal closer to his masked face, he narrows his eyes, rubbing the cloth over the blade again.

The door bursts open, and while unnerved, outwardly he remains still, snapping his head around.

The man who had left no more than fifteen minutes ago is back, his face wind swept and pale as he heaves out heavy breaths, keeping his arm firmly against the door.

His white shirt is soaked through to the skin, the pinkness of his flesh peeking out from under the fabric, his calf high boots marked with wet sand, crunching as he steps a single foot into the Station, not daring to take one more.

It's easy to read his face, though he finds his brow creasing as he realises that the very look on his face is fear.

Immediately he stands up from his seat, the flame of the candle beside him flickering as he does so. Tossing the cloth onto the table, he sheathes his knife, grabbing his coat from off of the back of his chair, throwing it over his shoulders.

'What?' he asks, 'a fight break out or somethin'? Look like you've seen a ghost,' he breaths.

Johnny doesn't offer him a response for a moment, only looking up towards him with wide eyes, unable to pick his jaw up from off of the ground.

'Fucks sake, Johnny, what—'

'Siren,' he says quietly.

It's difficult to catch what he says with the rain hitting the window and street beyond the office. His lips curve into a crooked smile beneath his mask as he shakes his head.

Sirens? Is he fucking stupid?

The expression on his face doesn't change, even when he hears the small laugh escaping the confines of his mask.

'A lass was on the shore n' she has a fuckin' tail!' he exclaims, pushing himself up after catching his breath, 'tail blue as the sea, eyes black as the void... they bloody exist.'

'And where is she now? She go back into the water to swim off with her friends, hm?' he asks, 'ride away on the back of a horse with a horn on its forehead and wings too?' he scoffs, shrugging his jacket off, only for a hand to reach out, grabbing his forearm.

'Still on the beach.'

'The beach?'

'Aye.' he says, 'ran as fast as I could, woke Price 'n Kyle up, 'told them they had to get to the beach quick. If they keep hold of her, they're gonna kill her- she's a bloody mess, cryin' and screamin'.'

He pinches himself to make sure he's still awake while staring at the soaked man. In no way can he find a single thought in his mind at this moment to make anything make sense.

In fact, he feels a prickling heat flooding his flesh the longer he stands and processes what has just been relayed to him.

They're real, they're real and they have found one.

Despite the implications, it's difficult for him to miss the worry in his tone, and while what they deem to be a monster has just appeared off the coast of Lakekeep, he's still worrying about its safety.

'We have to go, they're gonna kill 'er, Ghost.'

Fixing his coat, he looks down at the dagger resting at his hip, giving a short nod as the man lets go of his arm.

'Price and Gaz followin' along?' he asks.

'Aye, didn't believe me at first,' confesses the man with a short laugh, 'still can't believe it meself and I've seen it with my own eyes,' he says, stepping back out into the rain.

Ghost follows after him, slamming the door of the Station shut as the head down the cobbled path, their boots splashing in the puddles forming in the tight streets as the rain hits the ground harder.

Their chants carry through the village, washing over the usual silence like a tidal wave, flooding his senses with cries and pleads.

As they edge closer, he can hardly believe it as a woman's voice bellows out, 'MONSTERS!'

It's brittle and broken the way she cries, and oddly, he feels that the voice tugs at his heartstrings.

'Mustn't listen to her speak, Lt,' he says, 'what they said is true, apparently the boy found her on the shore and when he approached her, he heard her hummin' a tune- said it had him in a trance,' Johnny says, looking to him.

'Monsters you are! Let me go!'

Stepping down off of the stone steps, the pair of the pursued the scene, hearing stray voices fall from out of the crowd, demanding that her mouth be covered in order for them to fulfil some form of revenge. Watching on, he catches the appearance of a bloody webbed hand poking out from the crowd, landing against the shore with a wet slap.

It's as though she's reaching out for something.

Following the line of her forearm, he watches as the sea climbs up the shore, touching the tips of her fingers as she continues to scream and cry.

Moving his attention from off of the beach, he looks to the water, eyeing the crashing waves as the wind sweeps the fabric of his long black coat to the side. The water is restless, and with the rain pouring from the black sky, it's difficult to make much out that isn't just raging water.

Although, in the glow of the torches which whip and wind in the wind, the light covers a fair distance beyond land, and he spots something in the water. In the darkness, it's difficult to make out more than a silhouette of what appears to be a human head. Only, after another crashing wave, he catches sight of pointed ears either side of the head.

Something is watching them, yet no one sees it.

'No!'

The scream from the centre of the crowd rips him out from his trance as he turns his head, following after Johnny.

'Please, we would do no harm if you did none to us. Please, let me go!' she screams with all her might, her voice piercing to the ears of everyone in the surrounding area.

The crowd dips as they shift, covering their ears with a harsh wince.

Finally, she's unveiled to him.

A gash in her head is pouring blood down her bare breasts as she fights and writhes against the hold of the hold of the men who keep her captive. Her ginger hair is matted and covered with the blood and sand, as is the rest of her body.

The slits on the side of her neck, similar to the ones on a fishes body open and close as she lets out muffled cries.

His eyes trail further down her battered body, the sight of a blue tail stained with blood greeting his gaze. In the light, it appears almost purple as the blood mixes with the shimmer of her scales.

Screwing her eyes shut, she fights with all the fury in her being, and as he watches her, he feels the same heat he felt at the station creeping back onto him, and despite the harshness of the weather, the warmth beaming from his skin is enough to keep him from shivering.

'Alright, move out of the fuckin' way!'

It's the voice of his Captain bursting through the chaos of the surrounding area.

Turning to look over his shoulders, he catches sight of Price and Gaz walking down the beach, and with ease, Price holds his hands up, his words catching the attention of the the booming crowd.

Silence falls upon them, the sirens cries mixing with the crashing sound of the ocean. The man moves past both himself and Johnny, Gaz standing between the pair of them as he parts the crowd with an astonishing ease.

The gasp that passes his lips when making it to the centre is enough to make even his blood run cold.

There's a moment of silence, the sound of the torches whipping against the wind as he keeps his eyes trained on the back of his Captains head.

Clearly, the cogs are turning, expecting what Johnny had told him to be that of a stupid joke, only, it isn't.

It's real and it's squirming around on the ground, staring Price right in the eyes.

'She's a murderer!' a voice shouts from the crowd, 'her and her people, she said it herself,' the continue on, fury carrying their tone past the cries of the woman on the ground.

Price continues to look at her, and as he looks over his shoulder, catching his eye, he turns back to the woman on the ground.

'Take her in,' he says with a firm nod, 'we'll put her in a cell in the Station for now, figure out what to do with her later,' he continues, looking at the two men who held her arms, 'carry her back to the Station,' he rules, resting his hands on his hips as he observes all the other faces in the crowd, 'as for the rest of y', funs over for tonight, get back home,' he demands.

'We'll take it from here. '

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

You awake with a brittle moan.

Your mouth is full of send, a dull ache radiating from your chin as your forehead creases when you look ahead of yourself. You teeth bite down on the sand in your mouth, a disgusting crunch causing you to wince.

Memories are stubborn, not wanting to come back to you, only allowing you to recall the sight of blood on the beach and the crashing waves around you.

With a grunt, you attempt to push yourself up off of the ground, a grunt escaping you as your breasts push against the sand. Tearing your eyes from off of the beach in front of you, you shiver as you feel the water wash up, brushing against your limbs.

Looking to your hands, a startled gasp escapes you as you hold one out in front of your face. No longer are they webbed, no, instead, your fingers are separated. Curling your hand around the dark sand before you, you clench it in your fists, watching as it poured past it. Your hips ache as you shift, placing your cheek back against the sand.

Your head is spinning, you can't think of a single thing aside from the fact that your mouth is dry, horrifically dry.

You muster up what little spit you can, expelling grains of sand as the spit clings the your bottom lip, dribbling down the side of your mouth.

The water moves further up, and as you go to move your tail, you're startled by the sound of footsteps on the beach beside you, only, you're too tired to even check who it is.

I've failed as a sister, so if I must go out like this, then I will.

'Ma'am! Oh fuck, ma'am, are you okay?'

The tone is light, different to what you expected to hear counting you have washed up onto the very same coast you had seen Serelia on the night before... if it was even the same day as her disappearance, that is.

The sand crunches beside you as a shadow looms over you, keeping you from the brutal beams of the sun, a hand pressing against your shoulder.

Picking your head up, you muster out a pained whimper as you look at the man in front of you. Concern is etched on his brow as he stares down at you, shrugging off a piece of clothing, resting it against your shoulders.

Your eyes are narrow as you keep your eyes trained on him, unable to look anywhere else as he carefully places his hand against your cheek.

'Can you tell me your name?' he gently asks.

You swallow hard, your chapped and cracked lips pressing together.

Your eyes grow heavy.

You hear another curse under his breath as exhaustion rattles your body. Your head falls heavy and his hold on you slips away, gently placing your head back against the ground. You hope he leaves you be, allows the sea to swallow you whole so you can be with your own once again.

Two firm hands press against your shoulders, gently guiding so you're lying on your back.

His shadow keeps the sun from you once again as he scoops you up into his arms, keeping a firm grip around your shoulders and tail. his hand slips slightly as he uses his jacket to cover your breasts, and you shift when you feel his hand move lower, being extra cautious to cover up your tail.

His breathing is rough as he rushes up the beach with you in his arms, every step causing you to shift or hiss.

'Sorry, love,' he softly apologises, pulling you closer. You note how his pace slows upon him noticing the pain he's causing you by running, 'do you know where we are?' he asks, looking down at you.

Cracking your eyes open, the back of your neck burns as you attempt to look back at him. Poking your tongue past your lips, sand scrapes against the back of your throat as you open your mouth, all for a hoarse croak to escape your lips.

'Have to get you somethin' to drink,' he says firmly, 'you're okay now, love, I promise,' he reassures, pulling you closer to him.

You muster up a short 'hm', resting your head against his chest, listening to the little muscle in it thumping as he heads up the stairs, taking your further away from the beach.

The pair of you remain in silence and you hear the passing giggles and whispers of passersby as he keeps you against him.

You're unsure of what they're saying, though you're sure they're most likely laughing at your tail.

It's surprising hearing such a humorous reaction from them, figuring they would respond in a similar manner to how they did when you had heard Serelia screaming on the shore.

Mustering up a grunt, you flinch as your body is lightly pressed into a door. It squeals as it opens, and the very first thing you hear is a booming voice. It causes the dull ache in your head to worsen as you flinch.

'Am tellin' ye, it's straight out of a fuckin' fairytale it is,' booms the voice, 'can y'—'

There's silence.

Your eyes crack open as you observe the room you're in.

It's different to home, there's a rich smell, similar to the smoke from the lights on the beach.

'Found her on the beach,' confesses the man holding you, 'Johnny, go get some water, please,' he asks, 'she's got a mouthful of sand, she can hardly speak.'

There's a short answer, you can't quite hear it, as he moves you further into the room, setting you down.

Your damp hair hits the plush fabric of a pillow and something is pulled over your body. It's light, harmless.

'Where was she?' asks an unfamiliar voice. It's low, his accent is thick and as you turn your head to the side, you note the man has a thick brown beard, his hair quite short. Stepping towards you, he rests his large hand on your forehead. 'She's burning up.'

'She was near the same spot as last night where that... siren was,' he says.

It's as though life is breathed into you as you quickly sit up, ignoring the dizziness wrecking your mind. The man quickly pulls his hand from off of your forehead, moving it to your shoulder. 'Calm down, love,' he gently instructs, looking to the man standing beside you, 'you reckon she was attacked by it?'

'Could have been; she seems shaken,' he confirms.

Confusion hits you as you lift your tail, only to find that is has vanished.

As you lift your legs, a distraught gasp escapes you as you catch sight of legs.

Two legs- the same as the three men in the room have.

Quickly, you slap your hands to the side of your ears, your chest heaving as you realise your ears have shrunk, resembling that of the legged folk. Everything seems to come tumbling down in front of you, your head pounding as your eyes begin to sting.

'Hey, hey, you're fine,' hushes the man who found you on the beach. The door opens again and a cup of water is handed to him. Taking a seat beside on the bed beside you, he brings to the cup to your mouth. 'Have a drink,' he instructs.

You want to tell him no, to demand to know what they have done to her, yet, you know you can't do anything until you have something to drink.

So, you press your dry lips against the rim of the cup, allowing him to pour it into your mouth. The feeling is euphoric, unlike any sensation you've ever dreamt of, and you eagerly swallow down mouthful after mouthful of water, taking the cup in your own hands.

You're aware of the eyes on you, but you don't care, drinking from the cup until it is empty. With heaving breaths, your wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, keeping tight hold of the cup.

A hand settles against your knee, and as you look back up, the man who was sitting in the corner is now standing behind the two closest to the bed. You note the man who brought you water has an odd haircut, while the much taller man's face is completely covered aside from his eyes.

It's strange, the fabric of a thick hood pulled over is head, his eyes peering through the holes of a skull.

Is that real?

'Sorry, sweetheart, I didn't mean to upset you,' says the brown-haired man, squeezing your bare shoulder.

You look at him with your lips pressed together, bringing the cup closer to you as you swallow hard.

Despite his caring words, you find yourself unable to open your mouth- unable to trust him. He's going to hurt you if he finds out what you are, then what? You're forever bound to their land?

'What's the last thing you can remember before you washed up on shore?' he asks.

You look at him with beady eyes, and the man with his hand on your knee pats you gently, 'you're safe here, we're not gonna hurt you,' he reassures. 'You seemed panicked when we mentioned the mermaid, does it have something to do with her- or more of them?'

Your mind is racing trying to piece together a narrative.

Confirmation that she was the thing that put you in such danger will surely be a death sentence- if she isn't already dead. Living with that on your consciousness is a horrid thought to even think of, so, you distance yourself away from creating an accusation, though you find yourself in trouble as you realise how you reacted to the mention of her.

Essentially, you've acted on impulse and no matter the response, you're unsure if it's going to suffice.

'I- I...' you begin, your throat burning as you bring your hand up to clasp it, 'I was on a ship,' you answer, 'I remember it in water- b- but then there was a storm,' you explain, your voice choppy and broken as you rub your hand up and down your throat finding that even your gills have disappeared. 'The siren,' you begin, clearing your throat, 'she tried to help me.'

'Help you?' mutters the one with a strange haircut. 'How'd she do that, lass?'

'I- I was stuck,' you say, 'I couldn't get out an' she tried to, uh, pull me out,' you explain, 'but she got hurt- it might not even be the same one but... there was one, a good one,' you explain, gulping hard as the masked man standing beside the man with his hand on your shoulder shifts on his feet, his eyes burning into your flesh, the sunken eyes behind the skill mask leaving goosebumps on your flesh.

He's harsher than last nights current.

Keeping your eyes trained on the man, you observe him as he peers down at you, his built frame making you feel small. Most definitely, you do not want to get on his bad side; he could probably crush you with one hand.

'Couldn't have been the same mermaid,' he answers, his tone causing your chest to almost rattle, 'took an entire night for you to even wash up here, you wouldn't have survived if it was her,' he notes, the others around you shaking their heads in a collective agreement.

Your heartbeat is pounding in your ears, you feel blood coursing through your veins as you look up at him with teary eyes.

Your bottom lip protrudes as water begins to pour from your eyes. It's unlike anything you've ever felt, and, despite your burning eyes, you find the sensation oddly relieving.

You throat grows tight as you sharply inhale, allowing the cup to rest against the covers as you press the tips of your fingers into your cheeks.

A hiccup escapes your lips as your mouth trembles, all the misery of being lost and having lost escaping you in a cathartic sob that causes your entire body to shake.

'I- I don't know where I am, I- I'm scared,' you confess as more water clings to your eyelashes in little droplets, clinging on, only for their grip to fall loose as you blink, releasing more fresh streams onto your flesh.

Releasing a hand off of your shoulder, the man stationed beside you looks to the man who has his hand on you knee, 'you think you can go and get her some clothes? Poor things on show for the entire village to see,' he says. The man purses his lips for a moment, 'she's gotta have something that she doesn't want.'

'Has so many fuckin' dresses she won't even notice one has gone missing,' he says, standing up from off of the bed, 'I'll go and try and find something, as long as I don't take her cyan one I don't think she'll be too bothered,' he shrugs, 'keep an eye on her for me, won't you?' he asks, looking at the three.

The man with the peculiar haircut places his hand against his shoulder, patting it, 'she's in the best hands of the entire village,' he reassures, 'go an' find the lass some clothes, Gaz, we'll kep 'er safe,' he promises.

Gaz. What an odd name.

The rest of their conversation is lost on you as you're far too caught up in the tightness in your chest and the sounds of the screams you heard on the beach the night before to even think about anything else.

Only, when the door shuts, you startle at the sound of the slam, snapping your head up.

'MacTavish, I need you on patrol today,' says the brown-haired man. The disappointment on his face is notable as his eyebrows curl, 'everyone's on edge with the entire mermaid incident, the last thing I need I people trying to cause more trouble or almost drownin' going to find one of their own,' he says, 'speaking 'f which, need to go and check on her myself, make sure the head wound isn't goin' green,' he huffs, turning to the masked man standing behind him. 'Keep an eye out on her,' he states, turning his attention back to you.

Inwardly, you breathe a sigh of relief, allowing yourself to bathe in your emotion as you come to terms with the fact that she's alive.

Your eyes meet with his, your heart burning at the sight of pity burning in his gaze.

If things were any different, you very well would have wiped the soft smile off of his face, but you look at your options and his uniform, likening it to one your mother had described to you in the past.

'They like to think they have control, dress up in clothes just to make the isolation of their species more capable,' she explained while sitting in upon one a rock. You accompanied her, looking at her. She had such knowledge of the world beyond the water that you were simply awestruck with every story she told you. 'Fabric makes people listen, they're scared of the people with the golden buttons and sharp metal swords.'

'If you need anything, ask him and he'll get it for you,' he asks, looking over his shoulder at the man.

His tone grows harsher upon the mention of him doing his duty, your eyes falling to the man.

'Won't you, Ghost?

The masked man grabs the chair he was sitting on when you first entered the room, moving it as the brown-haired man and MacTavish move in the direction of the door. The chair settles at the side of your bed, as the pair move towards the door.

'Affirmative,' he grunts, taking a seat beside you while the two leave the Station, leaving you alone with the masked man called Ghost.

You look at him briefly, swallowing hard.

It's difficult to sit in silence, your stammering breath a reminder of all you've lost.

Beady eyes look at the masked man as you attempt to choke up the courage to say something to him. Despite sitting, his frame is much bigger than anyone else's you have ever seen, and as he leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, you flinch.

'Where's the mermaid?' you ask.

You watch his eyes scan the area surrounding you.

The fabric of his black mask moves as he sucks in a breath, 'can't say,' he confesses, 'confidential; unsure if anyone is listening out to try an' find her. If word gets out where she is, she'd be dead by tonight- if not sooner,' he explains.

'Why do they want her dead? Has she done something to you?'

You want to scream.

The man beside you is short with his responses, speaking of her as though he understands the whole picture, when in reality, their confinement of her is a crime punishable by death.

'She said somethin' she should've have,' he answers simply.

His words drag against his throat as he speaks to you.

'Oh,' you muster, resting your back against the wall behind you.

'Where were you goin'?' he asks.

You raise an eyebrow in his direction, tilting your head as you attempt to process what exactly he means by his statement.

'You said you were on a boat and you were rescued by one of the sirens,' he reminds you, your face flushing with colour as you realise you have already forgotten the tale you were twisting.

'I was with my sister,' you say, 'the memory is quite fuzzy,' you confess, knowing your knowledge of the surrounding land is limited to a map of the sea, not what is beyond it. 'It was for one of her trips, she was travelling to see her husband and then the storm hit.'

'The sea isn't too fond of forgiveness,' he remarks.

'Neither is the land,' you say, falling back into the security of the covers over you, allowing your back to slip from off of the wall, lying down.

Pushing himself up, he looks down at you, mustering a small hug as you sleeping exhale.

All the emotion and crying has your eyes drooping, disregarding your conversation. The man doesn't judge you for that, however, as you watch him looking over you with gentle eyes behind the mask.

'Get some sleep,' he says.

You expect him to say more to that, yet, instead, he pulls his chair from beside you, moving to it back to the corner he was sitting in before.

You keep your eyes on his broad back, watching as he sits down, kicking his feet up on to the desk, keeping his eyes out of the window.

Your eyes stay there as you drift off to sleep.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

When the door eventually bursts open, he's quick to send his eyes in the direction of Gaz as he walks through it with a bundle of garments. His mouth is open as he goes to speak, only to quickly shut his mouth when he is eyes falls to you, sleeping in the cot.

Holding the handle of the door, he pushes it shut so the lock clicks as quietly as possible, even going as far as to wince while doing so.

'I managed to find some clothes for her,' he says, 'not sure if I'm going to be a single man when she gets home, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.'

Setting the clothes down on the desk, Ghost stands up, picking the green cotton frock up from off of the table holding it out.

'I've never seen her in it,' Kyle says, 'don't even think she remembers having the thing, so she can't be upset about it if she completely forgot it existed, right?'

'Affirmative,' Ghost responds, 'wouldn't be too sure about it, though. She has an eye for the strangest things,' he warns, to which he laughs.

'You're right with that,' he says, 'I saw the Captain while I was out, he was comin' back from checking on the siren, told me to ask you if you're alright taking the girl in until she can remember what day it is; we can't leave her alone.'

He feels his chest tighten as he looks to you, seeing you peaceful sleep as you turn under the covers, your bare arm over your covered torso. 'You're the only one without someone... not too sure how—'

'I'll do it,' he says keeping his eyes trained on you.

Kyle looks at him with wide eyes.

'Well, she has no money does she? Not like an inn keeper is gonna give up a room for her, and I don't want to pay out of pocket to house her when she can just stay at my place.'

The man in front of him grins brightly.

'She'll hardly be any trouble, I'm sure of it,' he reassures, leaning against the desk, 'did she say anything else to you after I left?'

'She was with her sister on a ship heading somewhere to meet her sisters husband and that's then a storm hit and the ship was swallowed by the sea,' he says, 'she didn't say much, too out of it to really make much sense of the world around her.'

'Poor thing,' Gaz sighs, looking at Ghost, 'be nice to her, hey?'

'Wasn't planning on bein' cruel to her.'

'Good, good,' Kyle nods, 'Price told me to tell you that y' can have the rest of the day off if you get her out of the station, by the way. Take her home, get her something proper to eat and see if she wants to talk about it- he's sending something out to other villages to see if they have anyone who fits her description.'

'Doubt there'll be any news back for a while,' he says, approaching you, 'they don't care much for their own.'

His hand rests upon your shoulder and you grunt.

'I'll leave you to it,' Gaz calls from behind Ghost, 'gonna go and try and catch up with Johnny on patrols, doubt my lady would be too pleased with seein' another girl naked,' he chuckles, heading towards the door.

Waiting until the door is closed, Ghost proceeds to crouch down in front of you, rough hand nudging you again.

Your eyes crack open, a startled gasp escaping as you're greeted with the sight of his bone mask right in front of your face.

He feels you tense in his hands.

'Didn't mean to scare you,' he says, 'got you some clothes to keep people from starin' at you love, and then you're coming back to my place,' he explains.

His voice is softer than the tone he held with you prior and you swallow hard.

'Your place,' you croak, your face burning red from the sudden scare from your sleep.

'Yeah; until you're back on your feet and until that head of yours start workin' you're gonna have to stay here,' he explains, 'Price has sent messages out to local villages, see if any family members pick it up.'

Your face falters.

You're going to be here a while.

'Gaz got you some clothes,' he says, motioning over to the table.

Pushing yourself up, you manage to move your legs so your feet are planted against the floor. Ghost averts his eyes away from you, turning away. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you look at the ground at your feet.

Surely it's not that difficult.

Pushing your self up off of the bed, you take a short breath, your legs wobbling as you land back onto the bed.

Despite being gifted the ability of legs, you find it quite pointless that you cannot use them. The water is much easier to navigate than the land is, that much you're sure of.

Looking up at the man in front of you, you let out a small breath.

'Can you help me?' you ask.

He doesn't bother saying anything to you, simply walking over to the table with the dress on it, it's an ugly green colour and you catch yourself grimacing at the fabric. Though, as soon as his eyes are on you, the sneer on your face fades away.

He's rough in the way he pulls the dress over your head, though you manage to get your arms through the sleeves with ease. It's an odd feeling, feeling the fabric against your skin, the elastic cuffs of the sleeves clinging to your arms.

Helping you to your feet, you stagger forward, your face growing red as you grab his arms for some form of support. Yet, he doesn't move, he doesn't even flinch, busying himself with pulling the skirt down, it stopping mid-thigh.

Your legs tremble as you wince, you grip growing tighter on him as you fight to stay on your feet.

'Guess I haven't quite found my footing after the accident,' you awkwardly laugh, wishing to be relieved of this torture.

Your face is beat red as you continue to curse the moon for putting you in such a position, cursing the your words during that night.

Leading you back down onto the bed, you're quick to let go of his arms as he looks at you. He knows you're not going to be able to walk to his house, and he fights off the urge to huff.

There's something so simple yet so difficult about the task... he's a fucking lieutenant in the village guard and he's been put on babysitting duties.

Be nice to her, hey?

Kyle's voice is like a dagger through his skull, and even though you can't see his face under the mask, he musters up a tight-lipped smile, swallowing all his pride for himself and his position.

'I'll carry you.'

Neither of you are happy about this, though a tight-lipped smile of your own appears on your face.

'Great... thanks.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

His home is humble, quaint, tucked away in a quiet pocket of town.

Pushing open the door, he tilts his head towards the entrance of the house. With uneasy feet, you wobble as you take a step up into his house, his hand grabbing your forearm when you nearly loose balance.

During the course of your travels, you had fought against him, insisting after catching people staring at you for him to put you down and let you walk freely.

At first, he doesn't listen, keeping his eyes trained on the path in front of him, though, fortunately, he relented after you started to squirm in his arms.

It was difficult at first, but you got the hang of it... as long as his arm was around your waist.

It finds its way back around your waist for a short moment as he helps you up the steps.

'Careful,' he utters.

'Thanks,' you respond, holding the sides of the doorframes as you walk into the living room.

It's a quaint and simple little space, although, your cove is much better than this place. Yet, you suppose you cannot be picky while undercover, his hospitality rendering you speechless.

The mystery of the red moon and her tide is still very much fresh and new, you know you must not do something to compromise your safety or your chances of finding Serelia.

Even if it is resulting in you finding shelter in a man with a skull masks home.

Pulling his hood from off of his head head, he shrugged his cloak from off of his shoulders, hanging it up on a wooden stand placed beside the door.

You stand and watch, your arms pressed to your side, still trying to understand how exactly humans manage to stand so straight on their legs.

He turns to look at you, you see his eyes shift under his mask, 'it's not much, and you're going to have to be okay with sleeping on the couch.'

'Much more than what I have right now,' you respond with a soft smile on your face.

'Thank you, Ghost,' you say

'Of course,' he says with a short nod, 'you can help yourself to whatever you want, all I ask from you is to keep out of my room.'

'I can do that,' you reassure, nodding your head.

He doubts you'll even be able to climb the stairs as he can only liken the way you're walking to that of a baby deer learning how to walk for the first time.

He can't complain however; it's entertaining to watch you, and he does so as you make your way over to your new bed, holding your arms out either side to balance yourself before toppling onto the couch with a large exhale.

Sometimes his limited compassion still manages to get him into terrible situations, and as he looks at you, he can't help but worry about what he has gotten himself in for.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

After spending some necessary time in his home, you eventually find your feet... both literally and figuratively.

It's difficult for you to stay confined to the four walls of his house, granted, you don't really do much and find joy during your first day there reading through an old shabby collection of books on his shelf.

There's nothing interesting, and you're unsure as to whether or not he himself has read any of them as when you open one, you sneeze from the amount of dust covering it.

It's a fun past time you find, especially during the few attempts of being more steady on your feet. The moon must have heard your complaints as, during the second day, you're nearly unstoppable, aside from the burning in your calves each time you take a step forward.

By the third day, you're almost sprinting out of the house into the village.

It's difficult to adjust to first.

The land is unknown to you, yet, you don't threat.

Instead, you search the village high and low, walking into every store, listening to every conversation of the locals in the village. You feel your skin crawl whenever you hear their laughter, though, it's as though talk of the siren has disappeared completely.

From spending time reading in the library to simply perusing the streets, you're wounded by the lack of information.

Why isn't anyone talking about her? Surely they know where she is; humans hate us and they'll want us gone for the issues we've caused.

The question follows you for a while, only stopping when you see the door open during your fifth night of staying inside Ghost's home.

He appears tired and as his hand moves to his cloak, he quickly stops himself from pulling it down when he sees you in front of him.

It's an odd thing, you've observed him over the past few days, and not once has he shown his face.

Still, you don't care for his habits as you open your mouth over dinner after swallowing a mouthful of food. Your hands is grabbing for the water next to your plate as you state, 'how come no one in town is mentioning the siren anymore?'

He looks at you, chewing under his mask which he holds up after each bite. 'Price has made it a rule,' he states, 'Lords out of town right now on business, until he comes back, we have to hold her per his request,' he explains, 'we've gotta keep her safe and if anyone is heard discussin' her, he's treating it as though it's treason.'

You offer a short nod, going back to eating your food.

'Why?' he eventually asks.

'I just thought, with something as big as this discovery, it would be the talk of the town for years,' you say, 'I thought it was strange, that's all.'

The look he gives you makes you think that he doesn't quite believe what you're saying to him, though, he doesn't press on the matter, going back to eating his dinner.

It's strange to spend time with a human, especially living with them.

He doesn't speak much, only really talking to you at dinner time or greeting you after returning from his shifts around the village to make sure everything is in check.

'You can take the mask off, you know,' you say, observing his discomfort, 'your identity doesn't make a difference to me, besides... this is your home,' you say softy.

Truthfully, the mask is just as much as an annoyance to him as it is to you.

Surprisingly, he listens to your words, pulling the mask tied around the back of his head off of his face allowing you to see his mouth.

Really, he does even know why he committed so long to wearing the stupid thing, growing especially frustrated as dinner grew to be more of a chore than something of enjoyment.

Old habits die hard, he supposes, and the habit of wearing around you died that night thanks to your comment.

While eating, he attempts to ignore your eyes on him, though he is far too aware that you're staring at him, not missing the way your cheeks have a light tinge of red to them.

Grinning to himself, he shakes his head at a crude thought that suddenly pops into his mind, narrowing his eyes as he lifts his head to look at you.

You drop your head immediately, focusing much more on your food than on him, though your embarrassment is difficult to miss.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Simon seems warmer to you after you've been at his house for a little longer. The longer time passes by, the more trips you're taking to the ocean.

It started with one in the early morning, although, you find yourself walking there at the beginning of every day all to talk to the waves, hoping you'll see the familiar face of one of your sisters in the water. Yet, you don't.

Part of you is happy with this fact, not wanting them to see you in such a state wearing the ugly green frock, the only thing you own aside from a pair of sandals which Ghost brought with him upon returning from a shift.

On occasion, you bump into one of the men you saw when you first stop at the station. You learn that MacTavish's name is actually Johnny, and Gaz, the man who found you on the beach, is named Kyle.

They stop to talk to you for a while, sometimes walking with you to the beach where they speak with you.

Nothing interesting really comes from the conversations until, a month into your stay in the village, Johnny blabbers a little too much.

'He enjoys your company, bonnie,' he confesses after complimenting your new pink dress Simon bought you, 'was telling me that he's enjoying giving you little gifts and having you with him for dinner. I'm tellin' you, he like you more than you think.'

'How can he like me when I don't do anything but steal his food and sleep on his couch?'

'Couldn't tell ya, lass, strange man is our Simon.'

You hold your breath.

'Simon?' you ask slowly, a smile creeping on your face.

He slaps a hand over his mouth, his face growing red.

'His names Simon?' you ask, craning your neck forward to look at the blushing mans face.

'Forget I said anything,' he demands, rubbing his face with his hand. 'Please,' he almost begs. 'What I mean to say, lass, is that he does like you, and if you haven't thought of doing something for him, maybe consider it.'

His words follow you into the nighttime as you're helping Simon cook.

It's been something you've been doing for a while, intrigue taking you down the strangest path.

'My mum used to make this soup,' he explains, 'the recipe for it is somewhere, I don't know where it's gone though. It was great for nights like there.'

You hear a bell chime in your ears, thinking back to Johnny's words. Simon doesn't miss the smile on your face.

'What? What did I say?'

'Nothing, Sim-'

You freeze.

The pair of you stare at each other.

'Ghost, I mean Ghost!' you exclaim, holding your hands up, realising that you have most definitely gotten poor Johnny in a hell of a lot of trouble.

'Johnny told you didn't he?'

'He slipped up while he was talking to me today, he didn't mean it and I'm sorry if-'

'Say my name,' he cuts you off quickly and your eyebrows furrow.

'Simon?'

He grins to himself, turning his head away acting as though you have just done him the greatest act of service. 'I like how it sounds when you say it,' he says, going back to chopping up the vegetables, 'much better than Ghost.'

Redness spreads to your cheeks as you admire the look of joy on his face, finding that you want to do that more in order to see that look on his face.

So, as you're eating dinner that night, and even when you're lying on the sofa, you scheme like a criminal.

You toss and turn before you eventually get up and begin your search. Holding a lit candle, your eyes scan through his shelves looking high and low.

You spend what must be hours flicking through books, moving things, looking under the sofa, attempting to squint your eyes to look through floorboard before you find it tucked between the countertop and stove in the kitchen.

Only then can you rest easy, your eyes closing as you think about the mission you have got to complete tomorrow.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Walking through the bustling village main street, you listen to the bright tunes of the surrounding marketplaces, small stalls on either corner of the street, pushing everyone on the main road closer together.

You brush shoulders with a few people, keeping your arms out in front of you as you walk with a basket in front of you, the gold coins Simon has given you per your request rattling in your other hand.

It's rare you're outside as you spend most of your times in the library or back at Simon's home. Though nothing is going to stop you from making Simon the soup he mentioned last night.

Your heart flutters at the thought of how much he has done for you, and as a form of a thank you, you're going through the crumpled up recipe you stole from out of his kitchen, going to different stalls to get the things you need for the recipe.

The trip renders you exhausted, and by the time you're back at his house, you're fighting against sleep as you chop up the vegetable, putting them into the pot. You're unsure if you're doing it right, although, the longer you leave it to simmer, the more it takes the shape of something edible... you suppose.

You keep it on the stove until you hear the door open, and whether or not it tastes good, you're fine enough with the delightful smell that is exuding from the pot on the stove, looking in the direction of the door as it opens and Simon steps into the room.

'You're back,' you cheer, dropping the wooden spoon in the pot, approaching him.

The door shuts and he pulls his takes his hat from off of his head, pulling off his mask.

A crooked smile greets your eyes.

'What's all this?' he asks, his arms resting on your shoulders. It's common now, him touching you, and you sink into his hold on you with a sigh.

'Well, I thought you'd appreciate me making dinner for you,' you say sweetly, grabbing his hands, pulling him through into the kitchen, motioning to the table set. 'Also, you mentioned the old recipe your mum used to make for you, so, I thought I'd try my hand at it, see if I'm a good cook or not.'

He lets out a small ‘hm' as he grabs two bowls from out of the cupboards, placing them down on the countertop beside the stove. His hand hand is touching the small of your back as he grabs hold of the wooden spoon you left in the pot, tugging down the black mask covering his nose and mouth.

You watch, holding your breath as you await his reaction.

'Is it terrible?' you quietly as, looking on his face for any form of reaction, yet, he's unmoved. 'We can get something else to eat if it's really terrible,' you offer, pushing down the cuticles on your nails as you keep your eyes on him.

Setting the spoon back into the pot, he exhales. 'Needs a tad bit more salt, sweetheart,' he gently says, 'but considering this is your first time making it, I think you've done a pretty good job, hey?'

You can't stop yourself from smiling at his gentle words, feeling the warmth of his large hand pressing against your back as he reaches beside the stove, grabbing a salt shaker. 'A little more practice and I think I'm going to have my own personal chef,' he comments, adding some more salt into the soup.

Grabbing the spoon, you stir the mixture, scooping up another spoonful, holding it out to him with your hand underneath it, 'how's it now?'

His eyes are on you as he places his mouth against the spoon.

'Much better,' he says with a smile, 'go sit down, I'll do this.'

'Are you sure?' you ask, feeling him move his hand from off of your back. He gives you a short nod.

'Don't want you to burn yourself, go sit down.'

Over dinner, you share brief words, but it is in the silence and the company of him that you find you're most at peace.

There's nothing from either of you, and you take time to eat the soup you have been working on all day. It's okay, a little on the watery side, and you do think that Simon is still definitely a much better cook that you.

He thinks the soup tastes a tad funny, but he doesn't say it to you.

Such thoughts leave the pair of you to sit together, silently thinking about each other, yet not having the heart to disrupt the peaceful silence.

After dinner, you attempt to help him clean up, only, he refuses your help, requesting you stay in the living room.

'Simon you always do stuff for me,' you whine with a huff, 'let me help you- washing a dish isn't gonna kill me, y'know?

'I have a surprise for you and you're not going to get it if you keep going against what I've asked of you,' he warns, 'be a good girl for me, yeah? Go sit down, I'll be right through and you can have your gift.'

Suddenly, it's like your legs don't work anymore.

Knees almost buckling at his words, you gulp hard, managing out a short breath as you nod your head, not saying another word to him as you approach the living room, taking a seat on the plush sofa, sinking into one of the many black cushions.

Pressing your face into your cupped hands, you fight off the urge to scream at the very fact he only has to speak to you and you melt like butter in a pan.

Death would be easier than this.

Eventually, he reappears holding a box in his hands. Setting it down on your lap, you smile at the sight of a white ribbon tied into a bow. It's a charming sight, and you fight off the urge to rest your head on his shoulder as he sits next to you.

'You didn't have to,' you whisper.

'Well, you don't have many dresses, sweetheart,' he comments, 'my mum would have my head if she found out you only had two dresses,' he said with a short chuckle, his eyes narrowing as he sighs, 'I saw it the other day, been trying think of a good time to give it to you.'

Carefully, you untie the ribbon, pulling the top of the box off, setting it aside.

Peering up at you is a white cotton frock. Small flowers stitched into the open neck of the dress.

Pulling it out, you hold it out in front of you, letting out a squeal as you see the fabric touching all the way to the ground.

You jump into his lap, pressing a firm kiss onto his cheek.

'I love it!' you exclaim, holding the dress to your chest, before quickly pushing yourself off of him, shrugging off the sleeves of the green frock you've had since arriving in the village. 'I don't even wanna wait to try it,' you say brightly.

He watches amused as the fabric falls from off of your body, pooling around your feet. You're unapologetic of your appearance, tits on full show without a single care in the world.

Pulling the white dress over your head, you wiggle your hips as it hugs your waist, covering your legs.

He watches you, his hands on his thighs as you clumsily spin around in a circle, your skirt raising as you do so. 'What do you think?' you ask, 'does it look nice?'

He exhales deeply.

'Was made for you, sweetheart,' he replies with a bright grin on his face, 'gimme another spin.'

Your cheeks flush red, though you comply, your heart swelling at the request.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

In the midst of the night is where you roam free, walking through the streets of the village, treading down to the shore all to sit by the water. You watch as the waves roll in with a joyous glint in your eye, knowing home is right at your fingertips.

But oddly, you find home is also on land in the form of your sister and the tall man with a strange mask.

The very thought of him makes you feel nauseous, the thought of him washing all your sentence just as the waves do the shore.

Dinner tonight was almost too much for you to handle, to have someone so close to you, to feel his hand on your back and to hear the humans terms of affection leave his mouth with the intent of the meeting your ears... everything.

You blame the dress you're wearing too.

You feel like you're betraying the words of your dear mother.

She has warned you time and time again of the dangers of the human folk, and here you are, wearing their legs, missing your tail and your vibrant scales, yet, prepared to throw it all away all to hear him utter your name and call you sweetheart just one more time.

All that for a human who doesn't even know the truth of who you are.

'I thought you were here,' you hear a voice call from behind you, almost submerged in the crashing waves.

Turning your head, you see Simon approaching you, his boots leaving prints in the sand.

Stopping beside you, you turn your head as he sits beside you. 'Why 'ave you come all the way out here at this time?'

'Needed some fresh air,' you mumble, resting your chin against your knees, hugging your legs.

'You'll find her again,' he says.

Your blood runs cold.

'Sure that siren saved her just as she saved you, yeah? You'll be with her again some day soon, and who knows, maybe she's become one of them herself.'

'She'd like that,' you whisper, looking at the tide.

I'd like that too.

'Until you know where she is or receive a letter from home, you're stuck with me,' he says, 'sorry.'

You laugh.

'You've been the thing to keep me sane through all this, Si',' you reassure, 'without you I would've lost my mind. I need you, and what you've done for me means more than anything any else has ever done for me.'

'Thank you,' he speaks with his chest, you can hear the smile on his face as he speaks. 'I've enjoyed the company, it's nice to have someone to come home to, makes a change from the constant silence, gets me down sometimes.'

You will die before he is ever alone again, you're convinced.

Letting go of your legs, you pull away from the shore, moving towards him.

The light of the moon bouncing off of the water illuminates his features deliciously and you can't help but think of how he would look beneath the water where the pair of you could live out your days together.

Placing his hand on your knee, you rest your head against his firm shoulder, letting out a small breath as you look out onto the sea.

'Do you want to go back home to your village?' he asks.

'I don't have attachments to places, only people,' you respond, 'doesn't matter where I am as long as I have the people I care about with me- and if they wish to go somewhere else, then I'll will let them to do so.'

'So, when your sister finds you, you're gonna go back home?' he quietly asks, looking at the calm water.

'I don't know,' you say, 'so used to having you with me, and she's found her love now, she doesn't need me anymore. If she even is still alive that is.'

Leaning into the narrative is bruising, and in his silence you sit and think about whether or not you would return to the sea once you finally know that Serelia is safe.

These are the people who have hurt her, the man beside you is keeping her from you, yet, there you are in his arms, seeking comfort in the idea of living out the rest of your life at his side.

Really, you should want to put the entirety of the village under water.

'I want you to stay,' he quietly confesses, 'too used to y' now,' don't think I could go back to normal if you left.'

The feeling of nausea hits you again.

'I wouldn't know what to do with myself,' you say, feeling his grip on your knee tighten.

He holds his breath and you turn to look at him. Half lidded eyes stare back at you, and you find your hand reaching out to slip beneath the mask of the skull on his face, hooking your fingers beneath the fabric of the mask.

'Can I?'

He looks at you, though says nothing.

As you pull your hand away from his face, he pulls the hood down off of his head, undoing the tie around the skull mask on his face, allowing it to fall onto his lap.

Pulling the mask down, allowing it to pool around his neck, he looks you in the eyes. You stare back, settling your hand against his cheek. As you listen to the calmness of the water and under the watching eyes of the moon, you have little issue in leaning in closer.

His hand finds the back of your head as your lips ghost each others and you can feel hit hot breath fanning against your mouth.

'Am I gonna regret this?' you asks.

'You might,' he replies, 'but I won't judge you for it if y' do.'

Your breaths mingle as your lips finally meet, a soft and hesitant connection which sends shivers down your spine. Its delicate, the feeling of his mouth against yours as he holds you as though you're seconds away from turning to ash, leaving him forever.

And while your lips were against his, the thought of doing such doesn't cross your mind.

Not even once.

Upon returning to his house, you walk past the couch you have been lying on, his hand on the small of your back pulling you past, guiding you up the stairs to his bedroom.

Nothing like what you have read happens, instead, he helps you out of your dress, leaving you in your panties. You ask for nothing from him as you climb into his bed as he undresses.

It's intimate, the feeling of his hot flesh against yours setting a light afire in your stomach as you curl into his side, just as you curled into your cove hidden within the depths of the sea.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Days progress and your search for Serelia quells as you keep an open ear on the talks of the city folk.

You could have ended all of this a lot sooner with a song, louring all of them into the water to give you an ample opportunity, but you haven't.

Some other time you would have, though, you've heard your voice while humming a song as you clean your flesh in the mornings, and it's devoid of the deepness to travel as far as it did while sitting upon the rocks on the sea.

She is still alive and well wherever she is, and you're quite sure she has been moved around quite a bit as a safety precaution, and with Price's willingness to keep her from the wrath of the village folk, you know that at least some of the men in the village are good.

The more days roll on, the softer the touches from Simon grow, and as you're sitting in the village library again, holding a book in your lap, your fingers trace over the words written, leaving your words caught in your throat.

Reading has been the one thing to keep you from the curse of whatever has happened to you, and you find the stories written by humans to be quite amusing.

Perilous speculation at it's finest! Your favourite.

Though, you find it's difficult to breathe as you progress further and further through the books in the library until you were greeted with one covered in dust.

The lady didn't see you pull it off of the shelf when you did, and as the sky grows orange before eventually fading to darkness, you're unaware of the change in workers as you press your thighs together, hot breath fanning against the pages of the book.

Only, it's not the story that has you blushing.

Rather, your own thoughts as you replace the characters in your head, seeing the same set of eyes that have been greeting you for the past week while waking up.

It's wrong and it's dirty, but you can't help but think of him.

Perhaps this is simply how humans show affection, and it's not like you haven't been close to doing it; your bare breasts have been pushed against his chest when the pair of you wake in the dawn, and neither of you have moved an inch during the closeness, relishing in the closeness.

'I've got work, love.'

'I don't care, too comfy for you to leave me.'

Your mouth grows dry as you contemplate whether or not he has thought of you in a similar manner, if the thoughts carry onwards to his mind from your own, or if he sees you in a different manner.

A voice calls out your name, the flame of the candle on the table beside you causing you to jump, and as you look up, you're quick to slam the book shut, clearing your throat as you tightly smile at the man standing in front of you.

'Scared me,' he says to you, 'I thought you were home.'

'I got bored,' you shakily say, gripping the book in your hand tightly, holding it as you push your chair in, 'I got caught up reading.'

Even though you try to keep the book out of his view, you find he doesn't care about the stupid collection of pages, his eyes dragging down your body as though they're scanning for any source of possible harm.

'I'm fine, Si',' you whisper.

He nods shortly, 'c'mon, it's late and you need to eat,' he says, stepping to the side, allowing you past.

Keeping hold of the book, you walk along side the man and out of the library.

'You didn't have to drag me out, y'know?' you ask, walking alongside him.

His eyes fall on you, you know it without even looking at him, your eyes scanning over the words in the book, 'could've left me in the library to live with the books, let the pots of colours ink stain my skin and cover me up. Wouldn't have bothered you every again.'

The book is ripped from your hands, slamming shut as the man standing beside you takes it off of you.

'Strange woman,' he remarks, keeping the book in his right hand as you proceed to walk through the town.

Your frustration is obvious but he clearly doesn't care, you see the way his face settles beneath the mask.

'Strange man,' you remark, 'walking around the village with a skull mask on, especially in the dark.'

He only grunts in response to your words, pulling your book in front of him, looking at the title with a raised brow. 'Saccharine?'

He looks at you with a look telling that he knows what's beyond the pages, the possibility of such making your cheeks flare red as he flicks through the pages.

'What's it about?'

'Uhm,' you look at him with weary eyes, 'it's an... adventure.'

He nods his head.

'An adventure,' he says, eyes scrolling down the page he lands on, reading aloud, ''use that pretty mouth of yours for me, sweetheart, tell me what y' want,' he grunts, watching her squirm below him.''

Your face is bright red.

'Something fuckin' adventure that is, huh?' he barks out a laugh, as you elbow him in the side, snatching the book out of his hands. 'You dirty thing reading that out in public,' he mocks, your throat growing dry as you look at him.

'Shut up,' you grumble, slamming the book shut.

His laughter doesn't cease as you head towards his home, 'maybe I should have left you in the library by yourself.'

You wish for the ground to swallow you whole, longing for the cold ocean to reach right into the village and pluck you right from his side, placing you right back into the ocean.

Grabbing his key from out of his pocket, he heads up the steps to his house. You don't miss the glance he gives you.

'Who says I can't sort it out here?' you ask.

The keys fall from out of his hand.

Reaching down, you snag them before he can even muster the strength to breathe after the comment you've just made.

'You'd have an audience,' he says, grabbing your waist as you put his key into the door, turning it.

'I don't care,' you whisper, placing your hand against his cheek, 'especially if it's you.'

You don't quite process what happens until his lips are pressed against yours, the pair of you clumsily stumbling into his house, a giggle escaping you as he keeps you pressed against him.

The next couple of minutes are lost to clumsy steps, giggles and kisses as the pair of you waste no time rushing towards his bedroom.

Somewhere along the line, your dress is discarded, as is his shirt, all for it to be put on you as you sit in his lap clumsily doing up the buttons as the cuffs fall past your hands.

It's an alien feeling, the feeling on someone's lips against yours despite all the chaste kisses you have shared during sleepy mornings, and as he grabs you with greedy hands, you feel yourself melting into his hold, pressing your chest against his as you stifle out a short sound in delight.

You're unsure what exactly the sound was as it's muffled by your lips pressing against one another's, your hands clutching at his shoulders as his hand holds the small of your waist.

You feel the little muscle in your chest flutter as he tilts your head slightly with his other hand, deepening the kiss.

Keeping your eyes close, you feel as though you are one with the tide of the ocean, your limbs become that of liquid, flowing with whatever he wills as you fall apart in his arms.

Your firm grasp against his shoulders melts away as you loosely wrap your arms around his neck, your chest growing tighter as it grows harder to find gasps to take a breath from the kiss.

Placing another kiss against your plush lips, he pulls away, placing his hand against your cheek, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your cheekbone, letting out a gentle sigh as he looks at you.

Such gentleness is unheard of, no man should be so kind, yet, here he is, holding you as though you're the most fragile seashell on the seashore, intending to hold you close to keep you as a memory.

There's an odd heat flooding your stomach when he pulls away, a pulsing in the area you're somewhat familiar with. It's a dull ache, a bruising urge and you began to squirm in his lap in an attempt to chase the feeling away.

The feeling of his pants against you brings a satisfying wave over your body, willing to continue squirming in his lap in the hopes to find some form of quick fix. A breathy whimper escapes you as you continue to grind hopelessly in his lap, chasing after the release you so crave.

Only, your his are grabbed by his hands, as he holds you in place, grunting.

'Hurts,' you grumble, your hands falling to grab his wrists in an attempt to pull them away. Yet, his hold on you persists, keeping you firmly in place.

'Please,' it escapes your lips before you even understand what it is that you're begging for, though there's something that you can only describe as longing to extinguish the fiery blaze in the pit of your stomach.

You continue to fight against his hold on your hips, you lips pressing together in an unhappy manner.

There's a glint you spy as desire in his eyes, though, much to your displeasure, he keeps himself from acting on whatever that particular desire is, leaving you teary eyed in his lap.

'Sweetheart,' Simon breathes, shaking his head, 'hey, hey, it's alright, what are you getting teary eyed f'r? Haven't hurt you, have I?' he asks as your try to blink back the tears forming in your eyes. You're frustrated, unable to tell him what exactly you want because, truthfully, you've only read about such in the books in the library during the times he was busy with work.

All of it is new, and you wish for the blessing of experience you wash over you as you look at him with a lingering frustration.

'No,' you say, 'it's not that, it's that I...' you're unsure what to say, so, you let go of his wrist, lifting your hips as you look him in the eyes, placing a hand against your core.

He looks at you with a crooked smile when he finally catches onto what exactly it is, and all you can muster, in pathetic whisper is, 'need you.'

Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you're relieved when one of his hands is pulled from off of your hip as he gently moves his hand against you, cupping your cunt, pressing his thumb up in a particular spot.

You let out a whimper at the strange, yet welcome sensation, noting how his hand is far better than your own.

There should be something shameful about this, only you push into his hold, hoping he returns your enthusiasm.

It's in his arms you feel the most safe you have ever felt, even the tide of the ocean cannot compare to him in this moment as he pulls you loser, looking upon you with moons for eyes, conveying the idea that, maybe, he does think you're the prettiest thing he has ever set his eyes on.

Your back is pressed against the bed, the absence of his touch like a dagger through your heart. He looms over you, arms either side of your head. The lack of light, the flickering flame of the candle and the beams of light from moon shooting through the window render you speechless as you look at him.

'My pretty girl,' he utters underneath his breath, his hand brushing under the cotton shirt, moving further up your skin. Goosebumps form on your flesh as he does so, cheeks red the longer he keeps his eyes on you. 'Made with wind an' sea, you are,' he says, brushing his hand down your stomach, resting it against your pubic bone as he looks you. 'Tell me what you want, sweetheart.'

Opening your legs for him, you muster up a small whimper, looking him in the eyes, 'want you to touch me,' you quietly say, 'please, Si', need you to make me feel better,' you beg, feeling as though you're seconds away from collapsing.

A breath escapes you as he pushes your panties to the side, trailing his fingers up and down your folds with a groan.

There's a distinctive wet noise as he does so, spreading your cunt open with two fingers. Looking down between the valley between your breasts, you swallow hard at the sight of him touching you, jolting when his fingers brush against your clit.

It's unlike anything you've ever experienced.

Continuing in a fluid motion, your back arches as pretty moans escape your mouth, writhing beneath him. The heat in your stomach only grows as he does so.

'That's it, sweetheart,' he utters, sliding his fingers downwards, pressing one digit against your hole. 'Gonna be good for me an' take my fingers?' he asks, to which you eagerly nod your head.

'Y- Yes, please,' you respond, your back arching against the bed as he pushes a finger into you.

An odd stinging sensation causes a tear to slip past your eye as you fist the sheets below you, letting out a small sob. He pauses, you catch the orange light from the candle in his eyes as his mouth falls.

Then, you begin to feel him pull away.

'No,' you quickly exclaim, 'no, no, don't pull away, it's just...' you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, 'I've never done this before.'

He looks at you with wild eyes as he expression softens. Leaning forward, he places his lips against your and you cup his face with both of your hands, your mouth falling open as he begins to thrust his finger in and out of you.

Pressing his forehead against yours, he sighs, 'I didn't know, love,' he confesses under his breath, 'I shouldn't have made assumptions—'

'It's not your fault, Si', you didn't know,' you reassures, 'but I don't want you to stop,' you say, toes curling as his finger presses against a spot which almost has you seeing colour.

The air in the room is hot, only growing when you see a crooked smirk on his face as a crude squelch sounds.

You feel another finger against you.

'Gonna make sure your pretty cunt is taken care of,' he says, 'won't want anyone else after you've had me,' he utters, pushing another finger into you.

It burns for a moment, the stretch aching, yet working to contribute to the cord tightening in your stomach.

You're unsure as to what to expect as a delicious heat envelopes yous body, clumsy hands letting go of his face, moving to his shoulders. More tears slip down your cheeks, a loud moan escaping you as both his finger brush against a spot which has you falling apart in his hold.

You expect him to relent, though, he positions his fingers to proceed to hit that spot. By now you're a babbling mess under him, all the while he's grinning at the pretty mess you're becoming, soaking his fingers as you edge closer and closer to the edge.

You're not going to last much longer, he knows such as you clench around his fingers, his cock hardening at the very thought of having that pretty pussy around him.

There's a panic in your eyes as you edge closer to the edge, so he presses a chaste kiss against your lips, 'you're okay, princess,' you gently says, let go, cum for me, cum around my fingers, let me see how pretty you look,' he says, cautious not to make a demand as he continues to work his fingers into you, stretching you out.

Your chest heaves as you screw your eyes shut, your muscles tensing as you find yourself bracing for the coil in your stomach to snap.

It's odd to be scared of something that is making you feel so good, and you relax realising you're in his arms.

Your thighs begin to tremble as you let out small moans, drool trailing down your chin as you press your head back into his pillow, the heat in your stomach dispersing, crashing down into a pleasurable wave which has you almost sobbing.

Your hole clenches around Simon's finger, your entire body turning stiff as you stifle out a crude gasp, your orgasm washing over you. You watches as you completely fall apart, your juices flooding his fingers as you cum. 'That's it, you're okay,' he breathes, 'I got you, you're okay,' he reassures, his fingers fucking you through your orgasm.

Your raging breath steadily quells as he pulls his fingers out of you, sitting back on his thighs. Your hair is sticking your back as sweat soaks into the shirt you're working.

Whimpering, you watch as he presses the two digits he used to fuck you between his mouth, cleaning the mess you made of his hands with his tongue, letting out a short moan as he pulls his fingers out of his mouth, 'as sweet as honey,' he remarks, taking a moment to admire your glistening cunt.

Instinctively, you close your legs, all for him to tut, placing his hands on your knees, pulling them open again.

'Prettiest cunt I've ever seen sweetheart,' he say, 'don't try and keep it from me, yeah? You're not gonna be cumming around anyone else's cock aside from mine; gonna ruing you, shape that pretty hole for my cock and my cock only,' he gruffly speaks.

You hear the shift of fabric.

Pulling his underwear off, he tosses it somewhere into the room, sifting upwards, a crude wet slap filling the room as he slaps his cock against your clit.

You let out a small yelp as the sensation, your cunt still marked with sensitivity from your orgasm. Though, as you feel the blunt head of his leaking cock between your folds, you find the heat returns with a vengeance, leaving your mouth dry as he presses himself against your hole.

'It's gonna hurt for a second,' he warns, grabbing your hip with his hand, 'just keep breathing for me, let that pretty pussy stretch around me- I'll give y' all the time you need, just tell me,' he utters.

His tone is much darker than any you've ever heard, and as he begins to push himself into you, your mouth closes as you sink your teeth into your bottom lip so hard that you're quite sure you're going to draw blood.

A filthy moan escapes your lovers lips as he pushes into, the heat around his cock making it hard to keep a clear mind as the longing to fuck you until you're sobbing possesses him.

It won't take much, he knows that, counting on the fact that he's not even half way in and tears are already pouring down your cheeks.

Gripping your hips, he eases himself in to the hilt, moaning as you clench around his cock.

'Good fuckin' girl,' he curses, his nails digging into your skin as you wince. Never have you felt so full, feeling his cock pulsing in your core as you squirm beneath him.

Without even moving, you're sure he's pressing against that spot that brought you to your release just moments prior, you stomach twisting.

I'm not going to last.

Your legs merely wrap around his waist as he looks to you, and with a trembling mouth, you nod your head, 'y- you can move,' you say with a small nod, hissing as he pulls out, only to thrust back in.

Your skin is hot as sweat drips down your silky flesh, pushing downwards to meet his thrusts as he picks up the pace. The sound of you skin slapping together is vulgar, though neither of you care as you burble out weak 'ahs' under your breath as he drives his cock into you. Simon isn't quiet either, vocal grunts through gritted teeth as his bruising grip on you maintains a steady pace.

'Fuuuckkk,' he moans, grabbing the bottom of his shirt, ripping it open. You offer him as startled look as he drags his blunt nails up your stomach, grabbing your tits, rolling your nipple between his fingers. 'Prettiest fuckin' girl to ever walk the land,' he claims, 'made for me and my cock, and it's all mine, isn't it?'

'A- All yours,' you confirm, unable to keep a sane mind about you as he's fucking you dumb.

All your mind is sticking to is the thickness off his cock as it's hitting all the right spots. You're sure you're drooling from the sensation, your eyes falling back into your head as you babble out nonsense.

'No one else's,' you manage to get out before you're completely at his disposal, the feel of your next orgasm creeping up on you.

'You gonna cum for me again, princess?' Simon asks, greedily sucking in air as he looks at you, feeling your cunt clenching around him. He himself is edging closer to the edge, the tightness of you around his thick cock simply being too much to bear.

'Yes, 'm so close... so fucking close, please, please let me cum,' you dumbly beg, not able to keep the words from flowing past your lips.

'Go on, sweetheart, cum around my cock, make it yours,' he demands, his thrust growing much more sporadic as he chases after his own release.

A moan escapes your lips as you arch you back off of the bed, your entire body spasming as you allow yourself to fall into the pleasure of your orgasm as the cord in your stomach snaps, forcing a gasp out of you.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you let out a brittle sob, tightening around his cock as you cum. The sound of your skin connecting is wet as Simon fucks you through your orgasm, his curses and grunts filling your ears.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck, that's right sweetheart,' he moans, 'gonna make you mine, fill you up with my cum, no one else is having you, you're mine,' he grunts out, pressing into your, your cunt against his pubic bone as his hands tremble.

He lets out a moan as he fills you up.

It's a filthy feeling, but you love it terribly, your hole twitching as you feel his pulsing cock empty his load inside of you.

A short breath escapes him, and you moan feeling him push deeper inside of you, thrusting and out of you to ensure you're not missing a drop of it.

Remaining inside of you, he moves to lay beside you, keeping bodies pressed against you, the smell of sex and sweat in the clammy air of the room, but he doesn't even think of pulling out, let alone pulling away. Instead he settles with his cock inside out you, pressing another kiss against you.

Your eyes feel heavy, your entire body sluggish as you press your face into the crook of his neck.

'Good girl,' he utters against your skin.

You lay together for a short while before he eventually pulls his softening cock from out of you, you whimpering from oversensitivity as he does so. Your inner thighs are wet, and as your hole clenches around nothing, you're face grows red as you feel his cum dripping out of you.

He leaves you alone for a short while and you lay, your body blanketed in the moonlight. Beyond the window in his room, you spy the ocean in the distances, seeing the rolling waves, your throat tightening are your eyes move around the room, spying his side of the bed, then lifting back to the water.

You can't possibly stay here forever? Can you?

You have people, you have your sister still to find, getting no closer to having Simon confess to you where she is being kept.

When you uncover it eventually, what are you going to do? Free her and stay here? Will the even want you back when you return with the marks of a human all over you?

Your eyes water when he comes back into the room with a cup of water and a damp cloth in his hands, approaching you.

He sees the furrow of your brow and the discontent on your face, taking a seat beside you, pressing his hand against your face.

'I haven't hurt you have—'

'No, no,' you quietly state, sniffling, 'just...' you look at him, holding his wrist. 'I like you,' you whisper, his eyes growing wide at your confession, 'I- I know it's soon but—'

'I like you too, sweetheart,' he reassures, setting the cup of water down on the nightstand.

You rejoice in the outcome of your diversion, noting it works well as he looks at you with all the adoration the human heart can muster. 'Let's get you cleaned up, yeah? Can't leave you like this,' he utters, to which you nod in appreciation.

The night is sleepless for the most part as you're in his arms. It's difficult to confess to yourself, but you're aware of the lies you have told and of the possible consequences to come from it.

Even if he isn't fearful of what you are, there's still the fact that the betrayal will be too great as, essentially, everything you have together is built on a lie, and you're only encouraging it through playing the role of human.

A part of you wishes to wake him from his current sleeping state and tell him, yet, you cower in the thought of conflict destroying the night the pair of you have shared.

So, you tell yourself that you'll tell him tomorrow instead before falling into the heat of his body, closing your eyes.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

In the morning you wake with a dull ache between your thighs, looking to the side of your bed.

Simon isn't there and you sit up quickly, eyes scanning around the room, a panicked breath squeezing out of your lung as you search for him.

Has he left for work already?

You feel an odd sense of betrayal well in your breast as you shuffle from under the sheets, stopping in your tracks when you hear the creak of the staircase leading into his room. His head appears first and you quickly fall back onto the bed, eying him.

'I thought you left for work,' you confess as he climbs the final step. He shakes his head, looking out of the window to the early morning sun. It covers his frame in a delicious light and you take a moment to admire him. How his white shirt settles against his chest, the mask on his face right back where it usually it.

It's a shame though; you want to see his blond hair in the light of the sun.

'I'm not that cruel, sweetheart,' he reassures, 'want you to come with me today; I'm sitting in the Station by myself while the other three do whatever, want some company with me,' he says, we'll stop by the library and bakery before we go there, I'll get you that pastry you like,' he offers, fixing the buckle of his belt, 'what do you think?'

Propping your head up with your hand, you look as hm with rosy cheeks and a bright grin on your face. 'Make me a cup of tea when we're in the station too?' you ask.

'If I must,' he says, laughing, moving towards one of the drawers in his bedroom, pulling it open.

Grabbing a dress and panties, walking up to you. Shifting in the bed, you push the sheets back, standing up, taking the panties from his hands.

Stepping into them, you look up to see him holding your dress, the skirt bunched up. 'Hold your arms up,' he instructs, to which you giggle at, but comply, holding your arms up.

Placing the fabric of the dress over your head, you slip your arms inside of the sleeves, as he kneels down in front of you, pushing his mask up slightly so he can press kisses onto your stomach as he lowers the skirt of the dress further and further down.

More laughter spills past you as you watch him with do so. The skirt reaches your ankles and he stands up, grasping your waist. 'Happy I got this dress for you,' he comments.

You quirk an eyebrow.

'I thought you said it was plain.'

'Nothing's plain when you're wearing it, sweetheart,' he responds, pressing a kiss onto your lips. You roll your eyes at his sappiness despite melting into his hold.

'You're an idiot,' you say.

'And you're slow,' he retorts, letting go of your waist, 'finish up getting ready and meet me downstairs, don't take too long; don't wanna be stuck in a queue at the bakery.'

'You're the reason—'

'Don't wanna hear it, princess,' he calls as he walks down the the stairs, leaving you alone in his bedroom, crossing your arms over yourself as you watch him disappear.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

He cannot take his eyes off of you as you sit in the station, stray crumbs of the pastry around your mouth as you babble on about one of the books you found in the library.

It never occurred to him until now that it's very much possible to be a love drunk fool, and he feels himself grinning under his mask as you speak with such passion, it's making him lightheaded. He has little understanding of what you're talking about, but that doesn't matter.

He sits and listens to you, only stopping you when he reaches out his hand, brushing away the clumsy flakes of pastry from around your mouth. You stare at him, eyes panning down to your skirt as you blush at the sight of golden flecks on the white fabric.

Brushing your hands over your covered thighs, you brush them away, looking back at him. Opening your mouth, you go to speak, all for your moment to come crashing down as Kyle barges into the Station.

Taking one look at the pair of you, he lets out a comically loud wretch, 'save it for the bedroom, please,' he breathes, closing the door behind him.

'What are you doin' back?' Simon asks, checking your face for any more crumbs, letting a small grunt when he's satisfied there are none, pulling his hand away from you. 'Thought you were going to be out all day.'

'I've been looking for Rhys,' he says, 'he's supposed to be keeping an eye on her and I haven't seen her, when I went to the cabin the door was locked, all the curtains were drawn too,' he explains, rubbing his head.

Your ears perk up with the mention of a cabin, glancing at Simon before back at Gaz.

She's in a cabin somewhere nearby and she's still alive.

Your heart settles with the thought.

'He couldn't have gone far,' Simon says, 'might've slept in or something- if something was wrong, he wouldn't disappear on us.'

'You're right,' Kyle says, closing the door behind him, 'he's a good kid, shouldn't be thinking badly of him in the first place, just difficult not to worry when he's usually there at the crack of dawn, you know?'

'Are people still demanding a trial?' you ask.

'Yeah,' Kyle responds, approaching the fireplace to the right of the bed you're sitting on, pulling the lid off of the kettle. Fortunately, Simon replenished it after making you both a mug of tea. 'We're trying to push it back; she's a nice girl from what I can tell, doesn't speak much though- to me at least,' he explains.

'Why don't you just let her go?'

'Letters from the Lords telling us we can't act until he's back home,' he says, 'unfortunately, we work for him. If it was up to me, she'd be back in the water; I think everything people are saying about her is nothing more than fairytales.'

You smile at his words; he's right, in terms of her, they are all fairytales.

If he's looking for the sirens from fairytales, he's already eyeing her as he talks to you.

'Do you want another cup of tea?' Kyle asks, looking at the pair of you. Simon shakes his head but you nod, though, before you can reach for your mug, it's taken from out of your reach as Simon holds it out for Kyle.

You give him a short look which he returns after handing your cup to to Kyle who busies himself with minding his business.

'You my servant now?' you ask.

'Can be if you want me to be,' he answers.

You roll your eyes, leaning your back against the wall, dusting the remnants of your breakfast off of your hands.

'You're sweet talk is making me sick,' Kyle calls, approaching you, carefully handing you your mug of tea, 'need some lessons in it, Simon,' he adds.

'Fuck off,' barks the man.

'I've got nothing to do so you're not getting rid of me for a while,' he says, 'I'm gonna stay here for a while before heading back up to the cabin, haven't had a moment to relax this morning,' he scoffs, 'could do with a moment of rest.'

Sitting forward, you move your legs off of the bed, allowing Kyle to take a seat beside you, sipping from your mug, 'there's always something to be doing,' he begins to complain, 'never a fuckin' quiet moment in this—'

The door to the station bursts open, slamming against the wall opposite.

'She's dead!'

The cup in your hand drops as you jolt from the sudden noise, the hot liquid merely missing your thighs as you shift out of the way, hearing the tea cup shattering as it meet with the stone floor.

You curse under your breath, looking at the mess you have made as you go to drop to the ground to clean it up, all for Kyle to shake it head while Simon stands up to address the man at the door.

'It's fine love,' reassures the man sweetly, 'you'll end up cuttin' your fingers, I'll clean it up,' he says, looking down at the shattered tea cup on the ground.

Frankly, you appreciate his kindness as you raise to your feet, looking around Simon's bulky frame to the man who scared you.

He's shaking as he speaks looking at Simon, his eyes blown wide, reflective of the surface of the moon as he tugs at his fingers while attempting to express the horrors of which he has witnessed.

'I left for the night, an' when I returned she was dead,' he says, 'bloody and beaten, whoever it was took all her scales, left them around the room like it's some sort of fuckin' confetti.'

Scales.

You're sure you hear Kyle yell, but you're unsure what he actually says.

There's anger in the young man's eyes, genuine emotion as he details every single gruesome detail of the scene.

Serelia.

The siren.

'W- Where?' you manage to get out, not caring if Simon is about to say something in response. 'Where is she?' you roughly demand.

The young man standing in front of you looks at you with wide eyes as you move in front of Simon.

Your lover doesn't say anything.

'Tell me!' you demand, grabbing his shirt.

'T- The cabin just beyond the Lords house,' he stutters.

Without much thought, you're rushing out of the station without any hesitation, rushing through the streets as your heart rages in your chest.

Your mind is racing with his confession, shoving past and barging shoulders with everyone as you push through the busy town square, staggering up the steps towards the direction of the Lords house.

You're aware of the man behind you; Simon never really did let you out of his sights, after all.

Everything seems so much smaller in your eyes as you stumble further and further up, tears flowing freely down your cheeks.

Perhaps it's some form of sick joke- she's okay, she's just playing dead; she's a smart girl, even having tricked you a few times.

She's okay- she's got to be okay.

You're in a fit of hysterics as you pull the door open to the small, reserved cabin.

There are footsteps behind you, a distant call for your name, only, when you pull the door open, you seek the sister you had lost that night on the shore. Still bleeding as she was when she had been taken despite her pleads for freedom, only, she isn't moving.

She lays on the wooden ground of the room, her hand open in your direction, as stray tear slipping down her face as her open, bruised eyes stare into nothingness.

You stand at the door, your bottom lip trembling as you scream out, 'SERELIA.'

Rushing up to her side, you collapse onto your knees, trembling hands hovering over her swollen body, blood seeping into your white frock as you simply sit and stare in horror.

Placing your hand against her cheek, you flinch at the icy feeling of her skin, trailing the tips of your fingers over her soft flesh. Stray scales sit on the ground from around you, plucked like petals from a daisy.

Her body is destroyed, pretty face so swollen, you hardly know who you're looking at.

Nausea hits you, though you fight against the urge to vomit up your breakfast, lunging forward, slipping your hand beneath the bleeding body of your sister, resting your forehead against her shoulder as you pull her close, her body falling over your lap as you sob, brushing your hair through her dirty ginger locks as your body shakes against her still one.

This all feels like a bad dream that you wish to wake from, only, you cannot.

'I- I'm sorry, my urchin,' you manage to get out between spouts of hyperventilation and nausea, your nails digging into her flesh as your arm settles in her blood.

'My beauty, they have destroyed you,' you mumble under your breath, unmoved by the stench in room as your chest swells.

Pulling your head off of the corpses shoulder, you press your hand firmly against her rotten cheek, observing the countless amount of cuts.

You feel the room spinning as you observe the true brutality of mankind, how they are so careless towards the rest of natures creations and you feel like a fool.

A fury burns within you, your tongue ceasing as two hands are placed on your shoulders, attempting to move you away from Serelia. Looking up over your shoulders, you spy the bewildered eyes of your lover.

'Let go of me, Simon,' you demand, turning your head back to the woman on the ground.

His hands stay firmly on your shoulders.

You wish for him to relent, but that's not in his nature. No, he wishes to keep you from all danger, and with the mess you have made of yourself and the crime scene, somewhere deep inside, you understand that you cannot have the very thing you desire.

You're pulled to your feet, crying as you kick and scream in his arms, the bloody skirt of your dress sticking to your legs as you fight against him.

'Let me go!' you cry, turning in his hold, bringing your hands to his chest, weakly hitting him as though it is he who caused the bloody slaughter. 'Let me go,' you hiccup as you're pulled out the door, away from the sight that is sure to haunt you for the rest of your life.

Pushing your hands against his chest, you shove him with all you might, though he does not move.

Placing you against a tree, he gently guides you to the ground as your legs give, kneeling on the ground before you as you chase after your breath, your legs laid out in front of you, your hands resting flat against your thighs.

Looking up towards the sky, you spy the moon staring down upon you despite the morning sky, proceeding to cry as you recall the lights on the shore the night Serelia was taken.

Your throat burns with the desire to scream and scream until you have torn the very vocal cords nature gifted to you, seeing no use in them as you come to realise that you will never call her name and get a response ever again.

'You were never on our side,' you sniffle harshly, hot tears flowing free as Simon simply stares at you. 'I see their torches in the light of your stars. You make us the villains, fool us into doing your dirty work, and then leave us stranded when you want no more to do with us,' you seethe, turning your head to the side as you continue to sob.

Simon's hand presses against your flushed face, pushing your head up from off of your shoulder, 'love, you need to calm down,' he utters gently. 'You're gonna make yourself sick if you keep on like this,' he warns.

He means well, you love him enough to acknowledge that in the midst of your fury.

Yet, your punishment leaves you weak and weary, missing the water you grew up in, missing life prior to that night.

'I already am sick,' you retort in a broken tone, 'infected with the parasite that makes me you, that separates me from her,' you cry, 'no longer a siren, only human.'

You don't care what happens, and, if you do, your emotions keep you from logic.

'W- What?' the man beside you chokes out.

You don't miss the way his hold on your face tightens, yet, you do not flinch, permitting his harsh hold as you look him in the eyes, swallowing harshly.

'I'm not a human,' you whisper, 'I don't know what I am anymore... I never had a sister, I was never in a wreckage, I was looking for her, my Urchin,' you admit, turning your head in the direction of the cabin. 'And now she's gone.'

Your sobs fill the void of silence, only, nothing fills the void of warmth against your face as he pulls his hand away from your face. Looking at him, your bottom lip wobbles.

Every lesson your mother has ever taught you is urging you to hate him, telling you that it is his fault that there she's lying there alone in a puddle of her own blood, unrecognisable.

However, no matter how much you wish to lunge forward and claw his eyes from out of his head, you find heart and mind conflict easily.

'Please say something,' you beg, caving to the gaping hole in your chest, longing for the return of his touch for, what is left after him? An outcast? Nowhere to return, even the ocean doesn't want you, and your bleak reality begins to settle in as his eyes do not change. 'Please, please talk to me, I- I've already lost her—'

He's unsure how to tread, you see the weariness in his eyes. 'What part of you is real?' he asks, 'or are you just a liar?'

'My love for you is real,' you blurt out, 'I cherish you, all of you for caring for me and for taking care of me when I needed it the most,' you continue, 'but I couldn't tell you, Si'- I- I've been trying to think of a way to tell you the truth and I was gonna do it today- I swear to you.'

'Why?' he lowly asks, 'are you afraid of me?'

'Are you afraid of me?' you question, looking him in the eyes as a stray tear falls past your eye.

He pauses.

'Your people murdered one of my own, Si',' you choke out, a flurry of emotion blowing over you as your face and skin prickle with an insatiable heat. 'We act accordingly, you treat us violently, we react with violence, but she...' your words trail, 'she did nothing to anyone, Simon. Had a voice as sweet as honey, charming, loving to the creatures of the sea, and look at what happened.'

'What's stoppin' you from hurting me?'

His voice and tone are raw as you look at him.

Truthfully, in the midst of your misery, you're unable to see the reason which keeps your fury at bay, though, when you look into his eyes, you understand for a moment long enough to form a response.

'You tried to keep her safe,' you whisper, 'keeping her from everyone, keeping her out of the way. They got to her, you didn't.'

And I can't let myself get to you for something you haven't done.

He exhales, looking towards you with bleary eyes.

Always, the desire to push him away is going to nestle within after the events of today, but nothing stops you from lunging into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck with as you sob.

His large hand presses against your head as he pulls you close, his hold on you almost crushing as you cry into the nape of his neck. If he is hushing you, you can't hear him.

You're in his arms and he's got you.

His hold feels the same as the one you have became accustomed with during your time on land, nothing has changed.

Feeling him tug at his mask, you settle when you feel his lips press against your forehead, and with a small voice he utters, 'I love you,' he says, 'human, siren, sea monster, sea urchin, I don't fuckin' care,' he states firmly, placing another kiss on your forehead.

'I love you too,' you tightly say, feeling the urge to smile at his words, but you don't, simply remaining in his arms.

'I'm sorry, love,' he utters. 'She didn't deserve any of this, neither did you.'

With your face buried into his neck, you nod your head.

'I know.'

You lay in his arms for what seems like an eternity, holding his bloody shirt as he rubs your back.

There's nothing that can be said, you know that.

Both of you do.

A man of few words can hardly be expected to become a flowing fountain of knowledge in the span of an hour.

Anyone else would curse him for not trying to make you feel better, maybe even say he doesn't care about you. But his rough touch turns gentle with you. His boisterous manner is reserved to calmness.

Oddly enough, it's in the most violent man that you find your faith in humanity is kept from drifting off of the cliff, toppling over into the ocean.

Eventually, you feel him shift beside you and you're moved as though your a doll in a child's arms. Looking down at you, he brushes his hand against your face, wiping away the tears that have flooded your face. You place your hands over his much larger ones, looking him in the eyes as you sniffle.

'We can't leave her there like this,' he utters, 'they'll wanna burn her body, 'not gonna let that happen.'

You mouth grows dry.

'We'll bury her up here, there's a clearing near the cliff, overlooking the water so she's not too far from home.'

No words leave your mouth so you simply nod your head in agreement as the pair of you raise from the floor.

Her helps you up and keeps you steady, not daring to let go of you, seemingly fearful that, if you fell, you would shatter and leave him forever.

He does all the work, leaving you to sit and watch as he carefully raps the girl in a sheet, lifting her into his arms with ease.

You standby and watch idly, holding a shovel in one hand and a lantern in the other, unable to look the dismal sight in the eye.

As, you step outside of the cabin, keeping your head bowed as you follow after him, heading towards the burial sight he mentioned.

It's hidden, private, and you stand near the edge of the cliff, looking down into the darkened abyss of water below you as you hear the occasional grunt from behind you as Simon busies himself with digging the gave.

At this moment you're resentful, wishing for some form of blow to the head to send you over the cliff, rejoicing in the short fall before you're able to escape from the consequences of your failure.

Only, you cannot will yourself to go over the cliff on your own accord, knowing if you did, Simon would most likely blame himself- if not follow right after you.

Living in the idea is enough to keep the action at bay, the resounding guilt and regret you imagine you would feel after taking the leap filling you with dread.

So, you turn yourself around and sit next to the woman wrapped in white while Simon makes a grave for her to finally rest her weary head.

It's difficult to say goodbye.

It was difficult when you said goodbye to your mother, a bitter pill to swallow when old age claimed the crazed woman on the seas, though, the guilt stabbing into your heart like a dagger proves to make this send off much worse.

Never did you dream of doing something so horrible, yet, here you are, unable to escape reality.

It's the dead of night by the time the grave is ready, the lantern in your hand flickers as Simon holds the body of Serelia in his arms, lowering her into the grave he constructed using a shovel.

The sheet she's wrapped in is stain red, marked with her blood, and while your chest grows heavy at the sight you find solace hiding in the shadows away from the moonlight.

Kneeling to the ground beside him, you tear the edge of your skirt, placing it onto her body with a shaky sigh.

He looks at you.

'When someone passes, we pull one of own scales and lay it with them to rest so they always have a piece of us with them,' you explain, 'I can't do that for her, but I'm not going to leave her with nothing,' you state.

Grabbing the edge of his shirt, you watch with a sunken smile as he rips a piece of his shirt of, laying it beside the piece of your dress you laid upon her.

'It's an apology,' mumbles the man, 'couldn't be there to keep her from harms way in this life, but she'll have me in the next. She'll have the both of us, yeah?'

'Forever and always.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

You return to his home covered in blood.

He helps you wash, rubbing a sponge around your back as you lean forward, chin resting against your knees with void eyes. You say nothing to him, only listening to his gentle requests.

While doing so, he feels a heat growing his stomach. It had been set alight from the very second he heard you screaming and crying, and the longer he focuses, the more he finds his blood boils. Someone in the village knew where she was and they killed her- perhaps even multiple people.

A poor young girl was murdered, and in the process they murdered your spirit.

And now he is scared as he looks at you.

There's nothing to tie you to the land anymore, he understands that as he wraps you in a towel, carrying you up the steps to his bedroom in a woeful silence.

There's nothing to tie you to him and he wishes to paint the town red for the crime committed against you, swearing to himself that he will find the perpetrator.

The next time he's cleaning blood from under his fingernails will be the time he has avenged you.

Until then, however, he's committed to being beside you until you no longer want him there as he looks onto you after helping you get ready for bed, lying on his back beside you.

Nothing is left in you, your soul devoid of anything as your mind wanders to her body wrapped in that white sheet, and as you look to the dress discarded on the floor, you find you're not too far off her fate.

Laying your head upon his head, you listen to his heartbeat to make sure he's alive, fearful that he will leave you before you get the opportunity to leave him first.

'I love you,' you croak.

'I love you too, sweetheart.'

After a while he his breathing calms, soothing and melting as a wave on the beach did.

Your mind has been made up since he placed his shirt beside yours, and as you watched him cover her with dirt, you stood with crossed arms and contemplated for a while. The crashing of the waves over the cliff edge called for you as you stood there.

You cannot stay here.

For the good of yourself and the good of him.

Too much is at risk now, and too much has been lost.

Too many thoughts fill your head, bad thoughts. Bringing him to the water all to sing a song to pull him into it.

You'll watch as he fights for air, trying to break the surface of the water once more, but you will not care, simply watching him fight and fight until all life leaves him and his soul has left you.

Foolish mortal men.

You hear your mothers voice ringing in your ears as you look at his sleeping eyes, then to the blood beneath your nails.

Sinking into the watery depths of a sirens den.

Crawling from beside him, you offer him one final look at you lean over the sleeping man, pressing a kiss onto his temple, watching as his hand curls around the pillow on your side of the bed.

Misery strikes you as you look at the empty spot, something within you urging to you to crawl back into bed beside him, only, you're reminded of the celebrations litter through the town, the festering buzzing of the flies in the cabin, and the swollen face of Serelia.

How is one to move past such when they lack the very emotion of remorse?

And how are you supposed to keep your emotions at bay when you feel an unquenchable urge to bring the village into the water?

Both are impossible to solve, and somethings are better off left broken, for, if you act on your anger, you betray the man you love with all your being.

But, if you act on love, you betray the women in the sea who are most likely worried sick with your disappearance. So, you take hold of the first dress he bought you, pulling it over your head, eyes teary as you look at him sleeping.

You're making the right choice in leaving, you say that to yourself when you place another chaste kiss against his cheek, allowing the thought to follow you as you push the door of his house open, stepping onto the pavement.

It follows you down the twists and turns of the street, leading you from place you have both loved and lost back to the ocean where you have only ever know strength and family.

The land is cruel, harsher than the sea.

Even during a violent storm you find you prefer the sea for the land houses people capable of despicable things, maintaining the ability of hurting you, not only on the outside, but also on the inside. You long for normality, for a sense of belonging again, and while you know you will always have a place in his bed and arms, you have a duty to fill elsewhere, an anger to keep at bay, people to keep safe.

You have to go, and you hope he understands.

A man of few words yet the only man who could ever hold your heart and not shatter it, and as you're walking on the sand, stumbling towards the water, you allow yourself to cry an ugly and loud cry as you fist at the fabric of the dress he gifted you, pulling the skirt to your mouth, pressing your lips against the fabric. Your legs carry as you remain with the skirt bundled in your arms, inhaling the scent of the place you have grown to know as home.

But it's never going to be home again.

The water greets your feet as you allow your arms to drop to your side, walking into the sea.

The waves crash down, soaking the bottom of the pink fabric and you continue to sob as you edge further and further into the water, cupping your face in your hands as you stiffly wade through the waves.

Wiping under your eyes with your fingers, you raise your head in the direction of the sky, seeing the moon sitting above the sea. You keep your eyes trained on the red moon, unmoved by the winking stars in the night sky as you turn your back to her.

Observing the land one last time, you fall backwards into the water, whispering an ode to Serelia under your breath as the ocean swallows you whole.

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

TAGS: (If you would like to be added to the tag list let me know!) @forever-twenty-two-years-old

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writingsonsaturn · 1 month

Note

Tim and Y/n are high school sweethearts but they go there separate ways not because they want to but for some reason, and y/n moves to LA (maybe sometime after the break up with Rachel) and meets tim again after she calls 9-1-1 for help and they reconnect - you're an amazing writer

rekindled love - tim bradford

{ masterlist }

🪐: i’m so sorry it took me so long to write this, i made it a little longer to make up for it so pls forgive me lol :)

word count: 1.8k

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Senior year was the beginning to the end, Tim had talked to you about joining the military and The moment your eyes met Tim’s freshmen year during first period you knew your heart was his.

Your secret crush developed as you continued to stare and daydream about his pretty face, your friends all laughed at you and practically screamed at you to finally make a move on him.

“He doesn’t even know who I am! Why would I make a move?” you had groaned over the phone.

“Y/n, babe, I need you to be serious. That man has the biggest crush on you! He barely even knows what class he’s in because he’s too busy gawking at you” your friend, Darla, argued with a roll of her eyes.

After the much needed push to finally get the ball rolling, you had sat next to Tim in class. Unbeknownst to you his heart had started racing, hands began to profusely sweat, and mouth became dry at the simple thought of you being next to him.

The class was long, and boring. That was until Tim asked “are you understanding any of this?” you were surprised, and slightly caught off guard.

“Honestly, no, but i personally enjoy a good game of pretend” your witt had caught his attention, he smiled and looked back at his paper seemingly writing something down.

Your gaze was curious, looking over his shoulder. “Ms. L/n, please keep your eyes towards me” your teacher had declared loudly, causing your cheeks to heat up.

Tim had looked at you once the teacher's prying eyes had left you two alone, he slyly slid over a note.

“Here’s my number, call me?” the note had read, you smiled and put the note in your backpack.

Your eager body was nearly out of the seat before the bell could even make the first ring, hurriedly running out of the school halls, ignoring the confused calls of your name spoken by your friends.

The rest was history after that, late night calls began and he started picking you up in the mornings for school. Tim bragged about you to his friends, and you to yours.

you told him about a writing program you had been accepted into. You both were happy for each other, but deep down both of you knew that long distance wouldn’t be something that could work for you two at the moment.

Graduation night you and Tim went out to the coast, sitting on the sand and taking in the serene atmosphere. “I really don’t want to go” you broke the silence tearfully, the impact of the moment finally hitting you.

“Neither do I” he agreed, putting his arm around your shoulders.

You both sat there, tears streaming down your faces in quiet acceptance.

You both had said your goodbyes, the hug lasting longer than usually knowing it would be the last one. “I’ll find you again” he whispered in your ear, and kissed your forehead, leaving you with his love.

You looked around your now empty apartment, the heavy brown boxes filled with your life already on its journey to Los Angeles.

Your job had offered you a chance to move offices, you took the chance to finally move back to your hometown. Your life was seemingly perfect, you had a well paying job, a beautiful high rise apartment in the upper east side, you were living the dream.

Although your heart never seemed aligned with your head, it stayed where you left it. The ache never left your bones, the longing for the once in a lifetime love you had experienced.

While you sat in the back of your cab, your mind wandered off, running away with different thoughts and daydreams. Tim was a recurring image in each of those daydreams and thoughts, you wondered if you’d see him again, if he still thought about you the way you thought about him.

The simple thought of seeing Tim again made your stomach flip and heart pump faster than you could have prepared for. That feeling only enlarged when the airport came into sight, you knew the idea of seeing Tim again was a mere fantasy as you hadn't heard from him or keep up with how his life had been. You both agreed it was better to make a clean cut, seeing each other live their respective lives without one another would just be another grueling stab to the heart.

You didn’t even know if Tim still lived in California, all of these old, decrepit feelings were clawing their way out of their tomb. You simply just shook your head, hoping to scramble the memories, and quickly made your way inside the airport.

The flight was as nice as a flight could be, you would've gotten first class but you didn't feel like selling any organs. You were lucky enough to get a window seat and a nice older woman who gave you little sweets that she claimed would help pop your ears.

You were greeted by your mother, who was gracious enough to pick you up at 11:30pm on a weekday. “Mom!” you squealed, hugging her tightly with excitement, you only had your bare necessities with you so you didn't have to go to baggage claim.

You and your mom walked out arm and arm, you talked about your long flight and she mentioned how excited your dad was to see you again. Your parents were letting you crash at their place for tonight while you waited for the moving trucks to arrive.

As soon as you got to your parents house and greeted your dad, you went right up to your old room and immediately went to sleep, not worrying about your skin care or taking a shower.

Once you had woken up, you were met with the comforting smell of your mothers cooking. You got yourself off the bed and walked into your bathroom, hoping that a nice warm shower would rid you of the suffocating airplane stench. The warmth of the water melted into your sore muscles, while the steam rolled through your stuffed sinuses.

You took a couple of deep breaths before getting out, wiping the steam of the mirror before getting ready.

“Oh how i've missed your cooking” you exhaled as you reached the kitchen, your dad spoke from the dining room table “you gonna need help moving in?”

“No, the moving dudes will help with all of that pops” you patted his shoulder while grabbing a piece of bacon, “I’ll be able to stop by sometime next week after i've gotten settled in, and my work hours situated” you explained, your parents smiled at you “we’re glad you’re home, y/n.”

When the moving company had finished their job, you finally were able to take a moment and breath. You were once again exhausted but still needed to eat dinner, you weren't in the mood to cook, let alone were you willing to dig through all your boxes to find your kitchen utensils. You pulled out your phone and ordered take out, as you waited you unpacked the box with your bed sheets and made your bed sleepable.

Your house was in a dainty little neighborhood, it was older architecture with beautiful accents and all around wonderful. When the room had been unpacked to your standards, your next battle was to unpack your bathroom.

The doorbell rang, you quickly made your way towards the door. You tipped the driver and said your thanks closing the door. You were thankful they packed you plastic silverware and dug into the mouth watering food in front of you.

You decided to call it a night after a little more unpacking here and there, but you had tired yourself out and you were ready to go to bed.

You flinched awake at a loud clashing coming from downstairs, you sat up quickly thinking it might just be home alone jitters until the loud crash was heard again. You knew better than to try and investigate the noise so you quietly tiptoed to your bedroom door and locked it, then went into the conjoined bathroom also turning and locking it before hiding in your tub and dialing 911.

“911, what's your emergency?” the voice on the other line asked, “There’s someone in my house.” your shaking voice answered, fear present in your speech, “Okay, and what is your address?” she questioned “4758 garden road.” “Okay, and do you know where this person is located?” she asked for clarification “I think he's in the kitchen” you tried to stay calm but the adrenaline and fear were catching up to you.

The 911 operator stayed on the phone with you until the police arrived and arrested the intruder, you hung up the phone when you heard a knock and an announcement stating it was the police. You hurried to the door, unlocking it and ready to profusely thank the officer who had possibly just saved your life. “Oh thank god, i thought i was going to-” you abruptly paused when you noticed who you were thanking.

“Y/n?” you heard Tim’s voice call your name, you almost thought you were hallucinating out of fear. “Tim?” you replied, all the emotions you were holding in waiting for the cops to show up spewed out.

“It’s okay, it's okay, you’re safe now” Tim comforted you, your shaking form easily fit into his body. He held onto you, also in shock at seeing your face after so much time had passed, he knew he needed to get a statement from you but he just can't seem to let you go.

When he had gotten you to calm down, he took you to the precinct to get a statement from you. “So you became a cop” you tried to make small talk, your voice nasally and hoarse from crying. “Yeah, i did” Tim responded, putting paper on a clipboard “when did you come back to town?” he continued as he tried to make you comfortable.

You and Tim went over your written statement, and after that you caught up on life. You talked to him about your time in New York, and he told you about his time spent in the army and how he went on to become a cop.

It had felt natural, like the flame rekindled as if it had never been put out.

Before you left the station Tim slipped you a note and a quick smile before going back to his duties and having another officer drive you home, you read the note “Here’s my number, Call me?”

You felt the same excitement you had the first time you read those words, and still were just as eager to get home and call him.

#reader insert #the rookie #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford x you

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freimeka · 9 months

Text

am i the only one who's about to explode by thinking of a bodyguard ghost??? like he's... extremely on another level please help me !! i actually hate this and might delete this pls forgive any mistakes ans typos it's 3am . i feel like i forgot some tws and tags but oh well idc

★ obv bodyguard!ghost + pwp + just unholy thoughts + descriptions of masturbating + very brief mention of idk just a heated argument + ghost is kinda voyeur here

You have no idea how the two of you ended up like this. You clearly remember that you were screaming at Ghost's face. The reason was something completely dumb...like, he probably insulted one of your friends and you just exploded. You've been feeling on the edge because of him for the last week now—you cannot even count the times that your hand, completely out of your control, has traveled down on your body once you were alone to touch yourself.

As you think of him.

That fucker.

Ghost can easily get under your skin without even trying, it's like a love-hate relationship. You've known him for many long years—he has always been right there, next to you whenever you turn your head around to see him. He's protected you, spoiled you maybe even more than your parents did. Well, there have also been countless times that he annoyed you so much that you just wanted to slap him across his face but you just let them pass. You're used to Ghost, and he's used to you.

You should be mad at him now, your body should be on fire just by how angry you're at him but... your hand keeps traveling down on your body. You get comfortable on your bed, letting your body meet with the soft mattress as your legs immediately spread apart as if on autopilot mode. One of your hands easily travels underneath your shirt to touch your perked nipples, your fingertips pinching them just to feel a bit more. Your other hand slips past your soaked panties, and you realize that you're embarrassingly wet—with every move of your fingers you can hear a slick sound that's faint, yet loud enough to echo in your empty room.

You throw your head back when your trembling fingers start to rub circles against your clit, gathering the wetness and spreading it all over to make it easier for you to move your fingers in circles. Your eyes are shut, and you feel yourself taking short and erratic breaths as your fingers keep rubbing circles. No matter how you do or what you do, the mere idea of being stretched by Ghost's cock just doesn't leave your mind. Your fingers don't feel thick enough, they don't reach the parts that you want them to reach—and that's getting frustrating. You're usually so careful about being quiet in order not to get caught, but the feeling is overwhelming; you think that you might cry. That's why a soft, yet a bit louder than ever whine falls from your lips. You don't think that it's dangerous because everyone except Ghost is outside, your parents work long hours and that's why Ghost has become a babysitter as well as a bodyguard—that's what he says, but you know that he's trying to annoy you.

Since you two have argued like fifteen minutes ago, and his mad and hoarse voice somehow made you wet, Ghost must be outside on the balcony. He's probably smoking.

Right?

You feel your bed being crushed down under someone else's weight, and you want to open your eyes but the scent is all too familiar. And you feel like you're about to explode from embarrassment. Ghost rests his hands on your bare thighs, his fingers grazing the soft skin with such gentleness that you struggle to hold back a whimper. It's a small touch— it's obvious that he's testing the waters first.

"You're making it hard to be around you," you hear him whispering, his voice is dangerously low. You finally decide to open your eyes, to see him without his damn mask and he's already looking up at you. However, he breaks the eye contact as soon as you look back at him—he's now looking at your thighs, his lips touch your inner thigh as he speaks. "But you're also making it hard not to be around you."

You can't believe he's admitting it.

"Please—Ghost, I—," you barely whisper, your voice is shaky as your fingertips burn to feel Ghost's soft hair. "I'm... I just," it's impossible for you to explain yourself, but then again you don't have to do it since everything's pretty clear. Ghost is breathing so heavily against the skin of your inner thigh, and he's not done—for fuck's sakez he's not even started yet. Ghost's hands skillfully reach down to your sides, and he drags you against him to make you feel just how much he wants you. You hear the sounds of fabric as your body is pulled down on the bed, you're almost at the edge of the bed now while Ghost is kneeling down in front of you. He doesn't speak for a while, and you feel yourself get even more stressed. It's obvious that he has no problems with what you've been doing, but damn it, say something.

"You're perfect," he hisses, he sounds almost out of breath as he whispers against your skin. You feel him pulling your panties up, letting the already soaked fabric cover your wet pussy again. "You're so perfect."

And that's probably all you need to hear, you're way too gone, too overwhelmed to care about the consequences. You can worry about them later, but you know that this is mutual, and he wants you as much as you want him. He kisses you, it's a gentle peck on the lips first. But then, he gets harder and harder, pushing you back against the bed and holding onto your hips tighter— and you realize that he's making you think about only how badly you want him inside you. The way his big, calloused hands are touching your bare thighs, the way his kisses are getting more and more intense... He's getting you to feel hot enough to make you melt in his presence.

"I was waiting for the fun part to come," he breathes out, "But you take damn too long."

There's a moment of silence.

"I can help you with that."

You make a sound like a whine, like a soft cry of pleasure—all of those anxious thoughts that say you've embarrassed yourself are gone in a minute. Your body aches, you can feel your heartbeat getting faster just by the thought of Ghost finally filling you up to the brim.

He leans in, his broad shoulders are enough to make you disappear under his body as he presses his lips against yours desperately. There's something almost feral in the way he kisses you, as if he's even more impatient than you are. As if he's been waiting for this to happen for a long time.

Ghost's breath grows more and more desperate as the two of you kiss; his tongue licking into your mouth as your teeth bite into his bottom lip, your bodies are pressed against each other as much as they can. The feeling of him rubbing circles against your clit through the fabric of your panties drives you crazy and you feel your breath being stolen from your lungs. You need to feel him, somehow; it doesn't matter if he pushes his fingers or decides that he can pound into you, you just need him. Not through the damn panties, you need to get rid of them.

He's kissing you fiercely now, his tongue tasting your lips and then sliding inside your mouth greedily. His hands are working on your trembling body, touching your pussy through the fabric; you feel like crying, he should take it off.

"This feels so good," Ghost says, his voice is deep and it feels like he's speaking in your head. "Doesn't it? Don't you think that I can do a better job of filling up that cunt?" Ghost asks, and you know that he's taunting you—but you can't stay under that now, can you?

"Take them off," you breathlessly whimper, it's something like both a beg and a demand—Ghost can take whatever suits him. "Please, just take them off."

Ghost lets out a groan, and it's clear that hearing what you just ask him to do is driving him insane. If he was desperate to kiss you before, he's desperate to make you bury your face into the damn pillow and pound into you until your pussy remembers the shape of his dick.

"You're so wet," he chuckles deep in his throat, staring down at you for a moment as if he's trying to gather himself before he gives you what you want.

"I should keep your panties with me, you know," he lets out a deep sigh as his fingers hook around your panties and pull them down slowly but surely. As he keeps talking to you, his voice lowers. "You're not the only desperate one here."

He finally pushes a finger in, letting your walls stretch slightly to the feeling of his thick index finger—but you still feel like that's not thick enough. You're greedy when it comes to him. Your moans turn into whines as he adds the second, and the thirs finger without any prior warning. He's moving his hand quite fast now, causing your legs to tremble as your fingers wrap around his thick biceps—all you can do is cry out, whines and whimpers and string of curses fall from your lips as Ghost toys with you. Your body tenses up when his hand starts to move a bit faster, his fingers curling inside you until he finds a spot that will have you begging for more. He succeeds, and it causes your walls to get tighter around his fingers.

"Do that again for me," he mumbles against your mouth, breathlessly. "Do that again for me when I'm inside you, baby."

"It would be such a disgrace if I never tried to make you feel good," he whispers. His breath is hot against your neck. "But look at you... what happened to that fierce girl? All I'm seeing is an obedient little girl, my sweet girl, who's already getting dumb without being filled up properly."

"Oh, I hate you," you reply, your voice is low and filled with desperation as you wet your lips with your tongue. The more Ghost makes you wait, the more you feel like crying.

"Of course, you do," he replies, his voice is full of sarcasm. "That's why you're dying to get your pussy filled by me, correct? You're lucky that you're not the only one who does this," as Ghost speaks, you feel him moving around—and soon after the sound of his belt coming undone is heard. He doesn't even bother to get rid of his clothes properly, he just pushes his trousers down before he pushes your shirt above just a bit to indicate that he wants you to take it off.

Who are you to say no?

Your trembling fingers grab the hem of your t-shirt and you take it off with one swift motion, letting the piece of clothing fall to the floor.

You're way beyond gone at this point, your mind is empty, so no words come out from your mouth. You feel Ghost pulling you closer to himself on the bed. He's resting his knees on the edge of the bed as leverage while holding you by your thighs and making you spread your legs as much as you can. He's always wanted to touch you, fill you up, and the way you're looking at him through your heavy-lidded eyes is making it even harder for him to resist you.

"You know," he murmurs, "I would imagine us all over the place— my room, the backseat of cars or a damn parking lot, some closet, bending you over any surface that I find as soon as we step back in the house." His voice is thick with lust, it's like he's ready to devour you, consume you until there's nothing left of you. "I imagined you in my lap, your legs open for me, and..."

Ghost doesn't finish his sentence and instead, he finally gives you what you've been craving all along. He's big and thick, and the moment you feel the tip of his cock pushing inside you let out a soft yelp—Ghost is slow until he's fully in you, and just as you think that he'll give you some time to adjust to his size, he mercilessly thrusting. Sharp and powerful, almost abusing your cunt as his big hands spread your pussy even more just for his hungry gaze.

"I always felt like I was going to explode." You can hear him grunting, letting out low and deep sounds of pleasure as he mercilessly fucks into you. Your body moves up and down on the bed, putting on a show for Ghost that'll just drive him insane with how you look. He leans in, and his tongue licks hot stripes all over your chest before he takes one of your nipples in his mouth. His tongue flicks around it, his teeth gently and teasingly bite into it just to see your reaction. Every time you're slightly overwhelmed and sensitive, your walls clamp around his cock, making Ghost let out a string of curses as his grip on you tightens more and more.

He wraps his arms around your waist, gently rolling over to let you lie on top of him—his body presses into the mattress. You find yourself sitting on top of his body, his arms wrapped around you and his face in between your breasts. "Ride me," he whispers. "I wanna come inside you like this," and he's so, so cruel—how can he talk to you like that when he knows you're so, so, so sensitive. You whine, your arms tightly wrap around his neck as you start to do as you're told; but you're so close, so, so, so close that your movements become sloppier and messier.

"Can't," you gulp. "I can't, Ghost—," your words are breathless and low, your vision is blurry as you come all over his cock without even having the chance of letting him know. But that's Ghost, and Ghost knows you very well. He knows you better than you know yourself. "Yes, sweetheart," he whispers against your chest. "Go ahead, show me how you do it. I promise I'll make you feel even better than this."

#cod mw smut #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley imagine #simon ghost x you #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost riley #simon riley smut #ghost riley smut

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suashii · 2 months

Text

— 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓊𝓈𝑒 ౨ৎ

okkotsu yuta x f!reader. 2.2k wc. ﾉ smut ﾉ nsfw (mdni) ﾉ characters aged 21+ ﾉ unprotected sex ﾉ tit + nipple play ﾉ a hint of dacryphilia ﾉ brief handjob ﾉ mentions of cheating (neither yuta nor reader) ﾉ yuta is a little obsessive

note: eeee it's yuta's birthday ! ! i wrote this fairly quickly to post in time so pls forgive any mistakes :3 enjoy + wish the pretty boy a happy bday ‪‪❤︎‬

yuta has imagined your first time at his place on more occasions than he can recall and none of them could have prepared him for the reality of your first visit—sitting on his couch with your knees hugged to your chest, quiet sniffles filling the air as warm tears stream down your cheeks. it’s a bit awkward, partly because of your crying but mostly because yuta doesn’t mind it. he’s sure that a majority of men wouldn’t see this as attractive or opportunistic but, as he pulls a tissue from the box to offer you, yuta can’t help but think that this moment is perfect.

“i can’t believe he’d cheat on me.” you accept the tissue from yuta, dabbing the corners of your watery eyes. you crumple the kleenex in your hand but the action seems a bit premature as a new set of tears glaze over your eyes. a couple of them spill past your lashes when you turn to face yuta. he swallows the lump in his throat that comes with being the subject of your tearful gaze. it must be wrong to find you so pretty when you’re clearly upset. “do you think it was me? could i have done something to push him away?”

yuta’s head is shaking in denial as soon as the question falls from your lips. he can’t believe that you’d ever think that. what could you have possibly done to push him into another woman’s arms? if you were to ask him, he’d tell you that your ex was the dumbest man on planet earth for leaving you—and for someone else, at that. though, he’d also have to thank your idiotic ex for letting you go. he never deserved you to begin with and his absence was the opening that yuta often found himself praying for.

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” yuta tries to reassure you with a soft smile. he wills his hand to stop shaking as it comes up to wipe your tears away. the palm of his hand is warm against your face, the pad of his thumb rough but comforting as it brushes your cheek. the contact makes your eyes widen and lips part—you’ve been friends with yuta for a while now but he’s never touched you like this. it’s tender and you like it. to your dismay, he only lets his fingers linger a second longer before bashfully pulling away, choosing to clumsily scratch at his neck instead.

“i’m sure that you were a perfect girlfriend,” yuta tells you, and then he thinks better of his words. “not that him cheating on you would have been excusable if you weren’t!” he raises his hands and waves them in dismissal. if yuta were lucky enough to call himself your boyfriend, no number of little mistakes or miscommunications would run him away. he’d be by your side for the long haul. he’d never want to let you go.

“i just mean…” he looks up to the ceiling as he gathers the hectic thoughts bouncing around in his head into a coherent sentence. “nothing you did drove him to that.”

with a sigh, yuta closes his eyes and shakes his head subtly. his nerves are starting to get to him and he doesn’t want some stupid jitters to be what ruins this chance for him. you’re finally within his reach, just an arm’s length away, his for the taking.

he’s gotta pull himself together.

when the man tilts his head down and opens his eyes, he’s met with the sight of you. it shouldn’t make him jump, but your body is turned to face him and you’re closer than you had been before. he can feel his heart thump against his chest at the proximity but he supposes it’s a good sign. his words didn’t rub you the wrong way like he thought they might have—he’s still got a chance.

your knees are tucked beneath you now, hands resting on your thighs. your fingers nervously tap at your leg as you hold yuta’s gaze. you couldn’t be exactly sure why yuta was the first one you called upon finding out that your relationship had all but crumbled. maybe it had to do with the fact that he always seemed to want to help or maybe it was simply the fact that he was always around. regardless of the reasoning, the overwhelming sadness you had felt when you arrived is beginning to dissipate, replaced by new feelings that you’re sure you shouldn’t be acting on.

but that fleeting thought doesn’t stop you from asking, “you really think so?”

he nods, never taking his eyes off yours. “i do—”

his words jumble as you lean forward to press your lips against his. you can feel him gasp a bit but he doesn’t pull away. his lips are warm and softer than you thought they’d be. it’s a sloppy kiss, uncoordinated and messy with spit, though, that fact doesn’t stop either of you from deepening it—from chasing more.

your leg swings over his thighs so that you’re straddling him, hands coming up to cup his jaw as you run your tongue along his lower lip. your chest and yuta’s rise and fall with heavy breaths between the two of you. the air surrounding you is thick and charged and you want nothing more than to feed off of it. “is this okay?”

“yeah, but…” he doesn’t want to come off as too eager, although, he’s sure you’re having no trouble telling with the way you’re grinding on the growing tent in his jeans. he hopes he doesn’t regret asking, “are you sure?”

“i just—i need to get my mind off of him. i need a distraction,” you tell yuta, rolling your hips against his. your hands drop from his face in favor of making their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the dark, inky strands as you stare into the depths of his widened eyes. “can you be that for me?”

a strangled moan—one that yuta desperately tries, and fails, to hold back—sounds in the quiet air of his living room. nothing would make him happier than to be yours to use. the hands that had once been stiffly resting at his sides come up to make a home on your waist. “god, yes, i can.”

his confirmation is all you need to dip your head down and capture his lips in yet another kiss. yuta doesn’t attempt to swallow down his moans and you don’t either—not that it would be possible upon feeling his bulge rhythmically nudge your panty-clad clit. the contact makes your skin prickle with goosebumps and contributes to the growing wetness between your legs.

impatience overcomes you as your mind races with thoughts of what yuta feels like without all the fabric barriers. you reach down between your bodies to fumble with the buckle of his belt, lips still occupied with his. with your attention divided, it takes you a couple of botched attempts before you’re finally able to loosen his belt, undo his button, and pull down his zipper.

the sequence of actions reveals his black underwear and brings you one step closer to seeing him in his entirety. yuta’s breath hitches in his throat as you palm his cock and you take that as an opportunity to break away from the kiss, turning your full focus to the member between his legs.

your fingers slip under the waistband of his boxer briefs and pull the cotton down, releasing his erection. it slaps against his t-shirt and the cool air must bite against his head because you can hear him hiss at the new position.

your hand hesitantly hovers, eyes locking onto his in a silent plea for permission to touch him. he catches on quickly, hurriedly nodding. he’s imagined this countless times, too—how your fingers would feel wrapped around his cock. and yuta thinks he’s been patient enough until now.

when you finally take him in your hand, he’s warm and heavy in your grasp. the precum beading at his slit is plentiful. you let your thumb run over the opening, spreading the pre over his head and down his shaft, slowly stroking his length. he’s painfully hard, so much so that yuta tosses his head back to rest on the couch cushion.

he fidgets with the hem of your shirt that hugs your midsection in an effort to keep himself grounded. at this rate, he’s going to come all over your hand. he needs something to busy his mind with to keep that much from happening. “can i—” he swallows thickly before tipping his chin down to look you in the eye, “can i take off your shirt?”

you hum, raising your arms over your head so that he can pull your tee off. your absence between his legs doesn’t go unnoticed as he tugs the shirt off your torso. the fabric falls from the light grip of his fingers when he realizes that you aren’t wearing a bra. his cheeks grow impossibly warmer upon being met with the sight of your bare chest, though, instead of giving in to embarrassment, yuta’s hands come up to massage your tits.

as good as it feels to have his hands all over you, you’re aching for something more. so, while you have no intention of stopping him, you reach under your skirt to pull your panties to the side. both sets of your eyes are glued to the space between you, the space that lessens with each inch you take as you slowly sink down onto his cock. the stretch makes your lips part and your head loll as you adjust to his size.

“shit,” yuta swears under his breath, his thumbs sweeping over your hardened nipples. he can’t believe he’s buried in you, being swallowed by your warmth. he didn’t know it was possible to feel this way—like he’s walking on clouds. his next words come out quiet and breathy, so low that you can barely hear them. “you feel so good.”

a small smile pulls at the corners of your lips at his whispered statement. you’d tell him the same if you weren’t more concerned with chasing your high. as your hands come to rest on his shoulders, you lift yourself up and down, setting a relaxed rhythm that’s just enough to attain the pleasure you’re after.

it’s mesmerizing, yuta thinks, the way your breasts bounce as you ride him. he licks his lips hungrily before latching onto one of your nipples. his tongue swirls against the peak while lithe fingers pinch at and roll the other between his rough pads. the moans that push past his lips and vibrate against your skin as he sucks at your tits fuel the fire of arousal in your abdomen.

you dig your nails into his shoulders, the fabric of his shirt bunching together in your grasp with your tightened grip. between his touch, his mouth, and the way his cock head keeps bumping your g-spot, you’re not sure that you want to—or can—draw this out for any longer.

your pace quickens as your climax approaches and the rhythm you took care setting earlier has all but disappeared as your hips knock into yuta’s. your hastened tempo makes his cock twitch. that feeling of tightness in his muscles returns, the one that warns him of his impending orgasm. while he wouldn’t be ashamed to come before you, he thinks it would be more romantic if you do it together.

with his lip pulled between his teeth, yuta’s hand sneaks down to rub your clit. the unexpected touch makes you gasp in surprise. his fingers must be magic or the closest thing to it because a few simple circles are all it takes to snap the tension that had been building up in your tummy.

yuta’s name is sweet on your lips as you cry out for him. your walls spasm around his cock as your orgasm washes over you, nails biting into his shoulder blades in an attempt to ground yourself.

yuta is sure that his desire to come inside of you is unmatched, though, he isn’t sure now is an appropriate time to do so. so, he ignores the devilish thoughts begging him—urging him—to paint your insides white. he pulls out and lets his cum spurt on his sweaty shirt with a shaky groan.

beyond your shared heavy breaths, yuta’s apartment is silent. it gives you both a moment to think about what just happened, but the thoughts on your minds starkly contrast.

you’re starting to feel the weight of your actions and you’re almost positive that the regret will be in full effect once you’ve slept on it for a night. it’s not typical of you to take on rebounds and certainly not ones that run in your everyday circle. you’ll be lucky if yuta is willing to forget that any of this happened.

unlike you, yuta feels absolutely and positively weightless. you’ve successfully put every fantasy he could dream up with you to shame. if it was this good the first time, he can’t wait to see what it’ll be like when he actually gets to fuck you—when he’s able to call you his.

thanks for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, pls consider reblogging or commenting :3

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: jujutsu kaisen #yuta x reader #yuuta x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #yuta smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #𐙚 after hours

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wreckedandpolemic · 2 months

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forgive me? - matty healy

prompt: lovers' quarrel

(mdni) and we continue ahead with valentine75!! ok pls do not look too closely at the argument here i suck so hard at angst i cant even half ass it as a setup for porn lol

warnings: oral (f receiving), hand stuff, idk there isn't huge amounts to this

The silence in your flat is deafening, stretching between you and Matty like a chasm, your anger welling so deeply at the bottom that you want to drown him in it.

“I’m sorry?” he ventures, and you whip around to face him. The sheepish grin he wears is, admittedly, distractingly adorable; usually, it’s enough to melt you at least a little, but this time you can barely see it through your blinding anger.

You scoff. “You’re sorry, huh? Oh, well, I guess that makes it totally fucking fine, then!” You kick off your shoes with more force than necessary, sending your expensive heels skittering across the floor. “Tonight was important to me, do you even realise that? Are you so up your own arse that you think everyone wants to be on the Matty show twenty-four seven, or do you just not care?” A sense of sick satisfaction spreads as he processes your words, expression crumbling for a split-second and reforming into a sharp sort of anger that warns that Matty isn’t going to make this easy for you.

Which suits you just fine. You’ve never been one for an easy win. Never been much for losing, either. You fold your arms as Matty rounds on you. “I’m up my own arse? That’s fuckin’ rich, comin’ from you, treatin’ me like a fuckin’ toddler all night!” He’s gesticulating wildly, accent thickening through his frustration, and it takes a tremendous amount of your self-control not to laugh. “Matty, don’t touch that. Matty, don’t talk to him. Matty, come back here.” He puts on an affectation of your voice and accent that’s equal parts insulting and hilarious, and you’re lucky he doesn’t pick up on your quiet snort of laughter. “You actually said come back here! Like I’m a damn dog!”

“Dog would’ve been better behaved, probably,” you mutter. “Wouldn’t have got belligerently drunk and accosted the press, either.” Matty steps closer, breathing hard, tongue darting out to wet his lips tantalisingly. Your traitorous eyes flicker down to his mouth, soft and pink and wet and tempting, and it’s a mission to haul your mind back on track.

“I didn’t fucking ‘accost’ anyone. I told them to get the fucking cameras out of my face, ‘cos I wasn’t gonna give them a fuckin’ story at your fuckin’ event.” Matty defends, and, okay, the sentiment is there, but he had just made everything endlessly worse.

Groaning, you bury your head in your hands. “I told you. I fucking asked you, one time, just nod your head, smile, say you’re proud of me. Was that so fucking hard for you?” You hadn’t meant to admit that part. That it stung not to have his approval.

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” Matty snaps. “Of course I’m fucking proud of you. You’re a fucking star. Just wish you weren’t so embarrassed of me,” he adds, and whatever part of your anger that had crumbled at first sharpens in your chest again at his attempt to guilt-trip you.

He’s not being fair — of course you’re not embarrassed by him, but his behaviour fucking embarrassed you! “You told a fucking crowd of journalists that Jamie, who I have been on a fucking months-long press tour with, and I quote, ‘acts like a massive wanker.’ And he fucking heard you!”

Matty shrugs. “Well, he does. Don’t like the way he talks to you. Could’ve called him a rude cunt, too. Would’ve been even more true.” he mutters sullenly, scowling at the ground.

“God, Matty, you are so— mmph!” You’re cut off by him surging forward, crushing your lips together in a bruising kiss. You pull his lower lip into your mouth and bite down on it, iron spilling over your tongue as the skin tears beneath your teeth. After a long, indulgent moment, you force yourself to shove him away, gasping. “You never fucking listen! You can’t just kiss me ‘cause you don’t wanna hear it,” you snap, pushing down the heat that wells instinctively between your legs.

He’s flushed, breathing hard, unfairly gorgeous like this. “You look so pretty when you’re mad, baby,” he murmurs, tucking a wisp of hair behind your ear, the gentle touch making you shudder. He’s a master at this; resolving your arguments with doe-eyed pouts and wet, needy kisses.

Your resolve is crumbling. “Matty, don’t,” you warn feebly, lust spinning dizzily in your mind and swelling until your rational thoughts are dissolved. Matty grins, predatory — he has you pinned, and he knows it.

”My pretty girl,” he murmurs against your lips. “My little star. Forgive me?” His eyes are wide, faux-innocence shining down at you as your last thread of self-control breaks. It isn’t lost on you that he hasn’t actually apologised, but as his lips press against yours and his tongue sweeps into your mouth, you can’t remember why you care.

His mouth doesn’t leave yours as he walks you to the sofa. Your stomach swoops as he pushes you down, desire thrumming in your veins. Every last thought falls out of your head as it knocks against the armrest, your back arching up towards him. “C’monn,” you whine, reaching out to him where he stands above you, his gaze hot as it roams eagerly across your skin.

Matty climbs over you, adjusting your legs so he can kneel between them, goosebumps breaking out where he slides a hand up your thigh, agonisingly close to where you need it. “Lift your hips for me, love,” he instructs, sliding your dress up your body until a puddle of satin pools around your waist, cool and slick against your heated skin. His warm fingers crook around your panties and he drags them down your legs, exposing your dripping cunt. A soft moan escapes you as he rubs a slow circle into your clit, pressing a gentle kiss to your inner thigh. “So much better than fighting, hm?” he teases, and a flash of annoyance cuts through the lust as you remember exactly how you got into this position.

”Don’t push it,” you hiss, raking a hand through his curls and tugging harshly. He whimpers deliciously against your skin, a pulse of heat spiking deep in your bones. “I’m still mad at you,” you warn, searching your rapidly-blurring mind for your long-foregone anger.

“So take it out on me,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on your cunt, your body tingling under his gaze.

”What?” Your mind is already hazy, the sight of his head low between your thighs infinitely distracting, the promise of his tongue unfathomably tempting.

“I’m going to put my mouth on your sweet little pussy, and I’m going to listen to everything you have to say until you come. Call me names, if you want. Tell me everything I’ve ever done in my life that’s fucked you off, and I won’t say a word.” It’s such a Matty way of resolving an argument that you can’t find a response. “You get to yell at me and you get to get off. Pretty good deal if you ask me.” Matty’s smirk splashes you with a bucket of cold water, latent frustration blooming under your skin — a sudden need to slap the smugness off his face overtakes you.

You beckon him, waiting until his eyes are closed and his lips are parted, a gentle breath brushing against your mouth. He relaxes, expecting a kiss, expecting to be off the hook, and you crack a hand hard across his cheek with a grin. “God, that felt good,” you say as he recoils, rolling your eyes theatrically at his punched-out moan. “Such a fucking slut. Put your mouth to better use before I change my mind.” He shouldn’t make it so easy for you to take back the upper hand.

It’s almost comical how quickly his tongue is buried inside you, a thick pulse of heat sent kicking in your cunt. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you swallow a moan as you bury a hand in his curls. “Wish I could fuck your pretty mouth. Shut you up proper for once.” Matty moans into your cunt, the sound deliciously gratifying as it vibrates through you. “That’s your problem, you know,” you continue, the effort of keeping your voice level monumental against the waves of pleasure rising inside you. “You never fucking shut up. You’re— mmh, so fucking arrogant. You act like— ah!” His teeth scrape over your clit and you cry out, grinding your hips against his face as heat throbs sharply under your skin.

”Go on,” he says, grinning up at you with wet, slick lips. He hisses as you yank his curls harshly, dragging his mouth back to your cunt. He licks at you like a starving man, heat pooling in your belly, your limbs trembling and toes curling.

”You act like the fucking world revolves around you,” you continue, struggling to drag the words to the forefront of your soupy mind. “You’re so fucking— God, Matty, fuck!” you whimper, the rest of your sentence lost in the mind-numbing pleasure swirling through you. Matty isn’t playing fair, licking and sucking and kissing at you sweetly, your world blurring around him.

He pulls away and quirks an eyebrow at you, like he’s waiting for your surrender. As fucking if. You take a moment to catch your breath, fingers digging into the edge of the sofa to anchor yourself before he dips his head again, licking a broad stripe along your cunt that makes you whine pathetically at him. “You’re ridiculously pretentious,” you bite out, gasping as his tongue fucks into you in an obscene, glorious rhythm. Ecstasy coils in your limbs, your body heavy at the edge of oblivion. “Disrespectful. And you just. Don’t. Fucking. Listen.” You punctuate your last words rocking your hips against his face, your cunt fluttering around his tongue.

Matty presses wet kisses to your thighs, sweet and teasing as you whine. “Are you done?”

“Repeat it back to me,” you order as he licks his lips, framed prettily by the V of your legs. “So I know you were listening.”

“I’m irresponsible.” He kisses your inner thigh. “Arrogant. Inappropriate at the worst times.” He licks at your clit and you buck your hips against his face, fighting to hold at bay the flood of heat waiting to overwhelm you. “The people you work with think I’m white trash.”

You fist a hand in his curls, tugging hard enough that you feel him hiss in pain against your skin. “Don’t be a smartarse.”

You can sense that he’s about to argue, but thinks better of it at the last second. “I’m pretentious. Disrespectful,” he continues. “And I just.” He laps at your clit. “Don’t.” Heat floods your body as Matty slides two fingers into your sopping cunt and crooks them at an angle that has molten pleasure spilling over you. “Listen.” He sucks gently on your swollen clit, the pleasure enough to pull you over the edge, ecstasy coiling deliciously around your insides. You whimper, grinding down against his face as you come, your cunt fluttering around Matty’s tongue.

You sigh contentedly. “Good boy,” you murmur, savouring his shudder. “So good when your mouth’s full of my cunt. Like you so much better when you’re not talking.”

Matty looks up, eyes wide and face soaked with you. “Forgive me?” he asks, wearing the same sheepish grin that had failed to sway you before.

You sigh dramatically, the seeds of an idea taking shape in your mind. “Come here,” you say, a fond smile tugging at your lips. It’s a struggle to keep it from turning cruel as he takes the bait. “Silly boy.” Eagerly, Matty climbs over you, cupping your jaw and pressing his lips to yours, gently at first, turning hungry as you swallow down the taste of yourself. He moans into your mouth, grinding his clothed cock against your sensitive core. “Needy, are you?” you tease, a faint edge of danger lacing your tone. “Want me to get you off?” Glassy-eyed, he nods down at you, sweet and pleading. “Use your words.”

He swallows thickly, blinking hard. “Want you to make me cum,” Matty murmurs, casting his eyes down like he’s ashamed. You raise an eyebrow when his gaze lands back on your face, and he adds a reluctant, “Please.”

Sliding out from under him, you lead him into your bedroom, laughing derisively as he strips out of his jeans and boxers before the door even shuts. “God, you’re pathetic,” you scoff, smirking as his eager expression falters slightly with the realisation you haven’t let him off the hook.

“Mhmm,” Matty agrees, switching tack and plying you with sweet doe eyes.

“Get on the bed,” you order, kneeling in his lap when he obeys. His hands wander to the hem of your dress, brushing over your thighs as he starts to lift it, and you swat him away. “Think you deserve to fuck me after the way you acted today?” You glare down at him, pulling at his hair to tip his head up towards you. After a long moment, his internal war clear on his face, Matty shakes his head mutely. “No. But you’re being good now, so…”

Matty inhales sharply when you wrap your hand around his cock, flushed and sticky with want. You pump him slowly, spreading precum over him, and he trembles with the effort of holding himself still, sweetly pliant under your hand. “Thank you,” he mumbles, swallowing thickly.

You lean down to press your lips against his, swallowing his needy, suppressed moans. “It’s okay, baby. Being so good. Can fuck my hand if you need to.” You’re being cruel, now, knowing how you’re going to leave him, but it’s sickly thrilling having him in your power like this.

Murmured thanks fall from his lips between sweet little whines, his hips bucking into your fist as his cock leaks over your skin. Languidly, you press your tongue into his mouth, trading long, sloppy kisses broken up by Matty’s pleasured moans.

Taking Matty apart under your skilled hands is easy, now; you’re practised in everything he likes. You dig your thumb into his slit, twist your wrist just so, swallow every sweet noise he makes. His body tenses, his groans deepening, turning rhythmic, signalling his orgasm. You let him chase his release up until the very last second, pulling away and smirking meanly down at him.

Confusion clouds across Matty’s face as he looks up at you, reeling from his ruined orgasm as if you’ve slapped him. You let him catch his breath before you take him in your hand again, working over him, pulling him to the edge again. “Do you have anything to say, baby?”

Matty’s mouth falls open, the struggle to pull any meaning from your words plain on his face. “Please?” he tries, face falling when you shake your head, a moan escaping him as you flick your thumb over his slit. “Thank you,” he mumbles thickly. “I love you.”

You cock your head, appraising him. “That’s nice. But not quite. Try to think a little bit harder, yeah? I know that’s tough when I’ve got you all stupid for me, but try,” you croon, tone sympathetic and deriding all at once.

Matty’s face scrunches in concentration. “‘M sorry!” he chokes out, whining when you press a kiss to the head of his cock.

“That’s it,” you breathe, kissing him softly in reward. “Good boy.” Arousal coils in your belly at the sight of him, breaking into a thoughtless mess under your hands. You stroke over his cock a few times more, watching his stomach tense and relax as his orgasm builds. Then you stop, letting him whine desperately into your mouth.

He hasn’t wised to your game, still hopeful through his lust-hazy gaze. “You embarrassed me today,” you chide. “Why?” You dip your head, lapping over the tip of his cock, letting him thrust into your mouth, a spit trail connecting your skin for a brief moment. You kiss the salt of him back into his mouth, devouring his desperate moans as you stroke him. “I asked you a question,” you murmur against his lips.

There’s an answer forming on his tongue, you can see, watching him struggle to swallow it down. You pull away, lifting your hand to lap the taste of him off your fingers, giving an exaggerated moan. Matty whimpers, desperate, hips rocking against nothing as you batter against his defences. A burst of pleasure licks up your spine when you drag your fingers through your still-soaked cunt. Matty’s answering moan as you wrap your wet fingers around his cock is nothing short of pathetic, low and thick with lust. Clicking your tongue disapprovingly, you repeat your question, the ensuing silence thick with the unsaid. You know the answer, but it’s no fun not to pry it out of him. “I was jealous, okay!” he gasps out.

He won’t meet your eyes, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Aw, I know,” you croon sympathetically. Your touches turn tender, coaxing. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t need to be jealous. Don’t want anyone but you. I’m yours, yeah?” you promise, lifting his head to deliver your words into his shadowed eyes.

“Mine,” he echoes faintly, rolling his hips up into your hand and whining. Your thighs clench at his possessive tone; you love being his, being the only one who gets to have him like this. “Gonna cum, fuck, please let me cum, fuck!” The last syllable crumbles into a sob as you pull away, ruining him for the final time. “‘M sorry, ‘M sorry, please let me cum,” he whimpers, so sweetly pathetic that you almost want to let him cum.

Almost. Matty’s chest heaves, struggling for breath and sanity as you climb off him, smoothing your dress down nonchalantly. Pouting down at him, you click your tongue condescendingly. “Poor baby. You don’t get to cum tonight, okay? How are you gonna learn a lesson if I give you what you want now?”

He gasps, chokes, twitching as he fights to stay still. “Please?” he murmurs, so quiet that you aren’t sure whether he’s addressing it to you or subconsciously voicing his need.

Either way, you shake your head at him with a shrug. “Get control of yourself and we can watch a movie, yeah?”

Matty gives a shuddering nod as you turn to leave, squaring your shoulders so you don’t look back at him.

After a few minutes, Matty slopes into the living room, dressed but still looking fucked-out, hair wild and eyes downcast. You rest your head in his lap when he comes to sit beside you, smiling blithely and uncaringly up at him.

“Are you still mad?” he ventures, petting your hair tentatively.

“Depends,” you answer, feeling his body tense at your words “Are you gonna pull that shit again?”

“No,” he replies without hesitation, shuddering at the thought of what you just put him through

“Then no,” you grin, and Matty relaxes under you. “But you still don’t get to cum,” you can’t resist adding.

He pouts down at you, but his eyes are shining with mischief, any lingering tension fully faded now. “Can I make you come again, then?”

Sitting up, you climb into his lap and kiss him for a long, luxurious moment, heat swelling between you as his tongue slides against yours. “Say please.”

#'fuck' count: approx. 35 #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy smut #matty healy imagine #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut #writing #smut #valentine75

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ukiyowi · 11 months

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Mini PAC I

Notes: Please check out the Masterlist for more! Reblogging and paid readings help a lot! Pls DM me if you want one!

What flower are you? 🌸🌸

Read from left to right, 1 - 3 then 4 - 6

Note - I know its not long, but I am still coming into things because of the long break I had taken from pick a card readings which is why I will slowly build up to reach my ability to do longer readings again whilst doing shorter readings in the time being.

Paid readings || Old PACs

Pile 1: Crocus

Your energy resembles that of the flower crocus. Although these usually symbolise the welcoming of spring and the start of youth, as well as cheerfulness and hope, some cronus flowers also grow with the start of fall or winter. These signify the changing of times and renewal alongside new beginnings.

You may be the kind of person that changes constantly for the better, you're always trying to see how you can improve yourself and work on yourself, whilst keeping a positive mindset and optimistic approach to life. You may be someone who's constantly hopeful even in times of dire stress or situations where people may feel hopeless, being the well needed light in times of darkness.

Pile 2: Hydrangea

Hydrangeas often symbolise gratitude and understanding but can also represent abundance, prosperity, love, peace and grace. Certain cultures also associate them with forgiveness and apologies.

You could be the kind of person who finds it very easy to forgive people, you could also be forgiving to a fault at times which might end up hurting you. You may be conventionally attractive and be of a calm demeanor, knowing how to keep your cool and the kind of person who will always vouch for peace or often stay neutral during arguments, acting as a designated mediator.

Pile 3: Lunaria

Lunaria often symbolise honesty, transparency and the flow of money due to its other names being Honesty or Silver Dollar plant and the names stem from their translucent seed pods that resemble silver coins. In some cultures, it is also believed that keeping these plants near the alter or at the home, helps ward off monsters or negative spirits.

You may be the kind of person who finds themself to be lucky in the matters of finances and carry goodluck in general. Your guides may be extremely strong and great and warding off any sort of lingering negative energies near you which can often result in you having a lot of moments where something bad almost happens but then doesn't. People value you as the name of the plant suggests for your honesty and how you are able to give them straightforward responses.

Pile 4: Xylosma

So this plant is not as known and was a little tough to research upon however, it is very special in my opinion. The plant I usually used for ornamental purposes and beautification due to their adaptability in different kinds of environments and has a very strong network when it comes to the structure of the plant itself.

You may be the kind of people pile 4 who are grounded in reality and may be realists to a fault. You find peace and quiet in the smaller things in life and may have found yourself in positions of having to be resilient because of fast-paced challenges being thrown at you like constantly changing jobs or schools or constant movement. Furthermore, you are able to provide people with the safe space and security they need as well.

Pile 5: Ixia

Ixia represents, joy, happiness and cheerfulness and with it's very colourful and bright appearance I think it also represents the innocence of youth and childhood. It also often represents the fulfilment of wishes and aspirations and an environment where dreams and hopes can be cultivated.

You pile 5, are the dreamers and the people who actually go after what they are passionate about and see it through rather than simply thinking about it. You are able to execute your ideas and plans which lead to the fulfilment of your desires which may put people off at times because they may think you have it easy. However, your youthful spirit keeps even people envious of you to hold you in high regards.

Pile 6: Blanket Flower

One of my favourite kinds, blanket flower represents warmth which is suggested by the name itself, protection, nurturing and perseverance. In some cases they are also associated with festivities and celebrations due to their vibrant colours that stand out in any room.

You could be the kind of people who are always looking out for others and may be the first person someone goes to when they are having a hard time because of your warm and comforting presence. You may also be a little bit of a party animal where you love to go all out and dance and sing and celebrate even the smallest of your victories because you have had to cultivate that habit so that you prevent yourself from becoming overly critical.

#pick a card #pac #tarot #daily tarot #intuition #astro notes #pick a card reading #pac reading #tarot reading #tarot daily #idk what else to put #🩵 PAC 🩵

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dmercer91 · 9 months

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in your arms i feel at peace | look after you, tz11

in which trevor is your shoulder to cry on

don't let those super fluffy pictures of z fool you, this is sad as fuck (and dialogue heavy)

when i first started this account i figured i'd be doing mostly nsfw and look at me!!! every character i write has mommy issues :)

also send in for this au pls and thank you ill give you a vital organ

"someone's in a good mood," trevor mumbled behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you made breakfast for the two of you. nobody else was awake yet, and it was nice to just have some quiet time with him.

in just a couple weeks you’d become great friends, and you found yourself glued to him or to a book all day every day

“my mom asked if i wanted to go shopping with her today, it’s been a while since we’ve done something like that,” you explained, not clocking the look of worry on trevor’s face

you were over the moon that your mom wanted to spend time with you, one on one. this was your chance to bond with her now that you were closer to being an adult

your chance to fix things and have her treat you as an individual

you figured your mom saw today the same, that she might change. maybe she wouldn’t undermine your issues, compare them to her own

maybe she’d offer you help rather than argue that she was worse off

maybe she’d buy you things you actually like rather than force you to dress like she wanted - professional and proper so that you would be taken more seriously

trevor could tell that you thought today would change some things, and he wasn’t quite sure what to think of it

he knew your relationship with your mom wasn’t great. he knew your relationship with your whole family was less than ideal, actually.

he was a little nervous to see where the day went, but for now? you were excited, and he loved that for you

that excitement didn’t last long

he had a feeling he’d be left picking up the broken pieces of your heart whenever you got back

the feeling was right

but, he didn’t think it’d be this bad.

you were yelling as you walked through the door, your mom poker faced and unimpressed, almost rolling her eyes as she told you to calm down

“would you quit being a brat? there are other people in this house!”

trevor watched from the bottom of the stairs as you paused, laughing to yourself

“right. other people. you know what, mom?” you left space for her to answer you despite the question being rhetorical, but she just crossed her arms

challenging you to say what it was that was on your mind

“i don’t want to be your daughter anymore. from here on out, i am a stranger to you, i am the other people you’re so worried about looking your best for” you smiled softly

your moms face fell from amused to confused, thinking you’d do what you normally did - cry, and then accept any offer to rekindle your relationship in hopes that this time, she’d be a mom to you.

“you’re a pathetic excuse for a mother and i was just a kid. i didn’t- i don’t deserve to be tangled in this stupid, one sided vendetta you have against me for just existing,” your tone was level, you weren’t yelling anymore

your mom scoffed, trying to hold up a cold exterior while facing the reality that she was losing the only person who’d do anything for her

the person who, at seven years old, helped her move out of your dads house after the divorce

the person who didn’t question that you were moving in with a man you’d never met before

the person who cleaned the whole house regularly so that she wouldn’t have to stress about it

the person who helped her with laundry because her boyfriend refused

the person who defended her when he was drunk

the person who let her cry on your shoulder when owen wanted to stay with your dad for some time

the person who didn’t do the same because you didn’t want to hurt her feelings

the person who offers to do anything and everything for her because you know she works a lot

the person who forgives quickly and tries to forget, cause that’s your mom and you believed she could be better

the person who shuts up when you’re feeling down because you don’t want to put more things on her

the person who drops anything you’re feeling cause when you bring it up, suddenly she feels worse than you about that same thing and she needs you to lean on

the person who after seventeen years, has finally given up

you’ve given up.

“don’t you think that’s a little dramatic, y/n?” you smiled with a shake of your head, a tear falling down your face

“that’s kinda the problem, isn’t it? if i was any less emotional you might have me checked for psychopathy.

my whole life you let owen walk all over me. demean me over and over, and of course i cried, i was eight years old.

every time i tried to say something you’d tell me i was too emotional, that he treated me like shit on the bottom of his shoe because it was easy and i reacted too much

that wasn’t the truth. you just didn’t want to deal with it. you were annoyed that i was crying.

regardless i believed you because you were meant to be my mother

the bullying never stopped but every single time i just walked away and suddenly i wasn’t emotional enough for you

i was uncomfortable in my own home and that meant i was rude and blunt and i needed to smile sometimes cause i seemed like a bitch

you made me into that and i think it’s time someone lets you know so you can get the fuck off your high horse, cause we all know you think you’re a great mother”

she clenched her jaw and opened her mouth to speak, but you cut her off

“i’m not done.

news flash, buying me things at the mall just to soften the blow of you being a massive cunt doesn’t make you a good mother

putting a roof over my head and feeding me doesn’t make you a good mother, it just allows you to keep your kids.

so, again. you’re gonna start treating me like a stranger

because it’s not hard to see how insecure you are about how random people see you on the outside

you put up this mask of perfection for people who don’t even know you and never will, but you don’t give a single fuck how your own child sees you on the inside

i’m done being an extension of you to torment and compare yourself to, and i’m staying here wether you like it or not.

i’m here as a friend of quinn’s, now. as a friend of the family’s. this is not my family,”

the room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop

“don’t be disrespectful, y/n. i do a lot for you. i bought you summer clothes today!” you bit the inside of your cheek, filing through you head to look for any memory of her that wasn’t tainted by it’s true purpose, and you couldn’t.

“you didn’t listen to a word i said, huh? figures,”

when you turned and the first thing you saw was trevor, looking at you from the staircase, every bit of yourself willed to not let the dam break until you were alone, with him.

you walked right into him, clinging onto him and pressing your face tight into his neck

he reciprocated the second you were near, taking you into his arms and squeezing you tight, cupping your head and rubbing your back

he helped you up the stairs and towards the door to his room, holding your hand until you got to his bed and he could pull you back into his arms, on his lap.

"what happened, sunshine?" he murmured, letting you comb your fingers through his hair to try and keep yourself calm

it didn't work all that well, tears already streaming down your face now that you were in the comfort of his room, alone where you felt you wouldn't be judged.

your reply was muffled by his shoulder, where you'd pressed your jaw to try and keep your cries quiet

"she wanted me to go back home."

trevor furrowed his eyebrows and traced patterns on your leg with his fingers, knowing you'd open up when you were ready.

you took a minute to calm your breathing, explaining everyhting.

that originally you wanted to spend the summer at home with your dad because you knew you'd be isolated here, that quinn had other friends and you couldn't steal him away from everyone for the whole offseason.

that you got put in your place before the drive down to michigan and told that ellen needed you there to help around the house and that you could just be helpful 'this one time'

that ellen hadn't made you touch a thing all summer, the only time you did a chore was when you made yourself and him a snack, so you knew your mom just wanted you here to be a servant

that when you met him, you were finally happy in michigan and you were actually looking forward to the summer and getting to know him, spending some more time with jack and luke now that you had someone in common

that today, the shopping trip was just a cover up, your mom spoiling you before telling you - not asking - that you were going back home to house sit until the offseason was over

that you were naive at first, that you thought your mom grew a heart and that she was giving you an out due to you wanting to stay back home weeks ago

that you quickly saw through that

that your mom told you that owen had been excited to meet the team usa guys, trevor especially, and that you were getting in the way of your brother having the offseason experience he wanted

that you were going to be miserable the whole summer, but now that you've found a happy place in michigan, you were told to go home and be miserable there instead

that she wanted you isolated all summer. that was her plan.

and after you let it all out to him, you just started sobbing, and you couldn't stop

trevor did his best to soothe you, mumbling sweet nothings and reassuring you that ellen wanted you at the lake house and that he knew she'd let you stay

"i don't know what i could've done to make her hate me so much," you croaked, balling his shirt up into your fists and pulling him closer

“you didn’t do anything, sunshine. there’s nothing in the world you could’ve done to deserve that, you were just a kid. n’ you’re an angel, you know? like heaven on earth, it’s not your fault,” he whispered, cradling the back of your head

you looked up into his eyes from your spot on his shoulder, eyes uncertain and still overflowing with tears

“i know you don’t believe me, it’s okay,” he slid his thumb back and forth along your hair, kissing you on the temple.

you adjusted your head to get closer to him, still keeping your eyes on his

sniffling slightly, you took his other hand and toyed with his fingers, gaze eventually falling there as your tears slowed and nose cleared up

“thank you, trev, that-“ he cut you off with a kiss, catching you a little off guard

still, you pulled away with a smile, holding his jaw with the hand you’d had gripping his shirt

“that’s really sweet.” you finished, fresh tears falling from your face

he moved to wipe them, brushing his thumb against your nose gently

“of course, my sunshine,”

you hugged him, using both arms to wrap around him and squeeze tight, him returning the favour

“i’m all yours for the rest of the day, hm? maybe we can sneak off on the boat? bring some snacks, blankets n’ your laptop for movies and make a day out of it,”

you nodded happily, becoming pliant in his arms with a dumb smile

“that sounds perfect, z,”

he went to kiss you again, but the door cracked open mid lean-in and you jumped apart like it was an affair

it was ellen, now grinning to herself at the sight in front of her

“i figured you’d be in here. can we talk?”

you blushed, nodding.

“yeah, auntie el, just-“

“i’ll go,” trevor cut you off, ruffling your hair and placing a kiss on your cheek

#e’s fics #look after you au !#trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #anaheim ducks

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niki-phoria · 5 months

Text

METAL MOUTH

pairing: jisung x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 639

includes: reader has lip piercings (implied to be snake bites), nervous jisung, not proofread and i don't have any facial piercings so pls forgive any mistakes !!

summary: jisung likes your piercings - maybe just a little more than he likes you.

jisung is staring at you. you can feel it. his gaze never leaves your face as he watches you carefully adjust the thin metal rings piercing through your skin through your bathroom mirror.

wide eyes meet your own when you turn around to face him, softly chuckling at the way the boy startles. “what?” you playfully cock your head at him; a smirk tugs at the corners of your lips. “is there something on my face?”

“no,” jisung replies, softly shaking his head. he slips fully into the room, letting the door quietly shut behind him. despite now being face to face, jisung’s gaze still lingers on your lips for just a few seconds too long to be totally platonic.

hesitantly, he raises a hand up until his fingertips are mere centimeters away from the metal. “what do they feel like?” he finally murmurs after a period of silence.

“i’ve had them for so long they just feel normal to me,” you shrug. “i only really notice them when other people bring them up - or when i’m doing something near my mouth, like brushing my teeth or something.”

“i guess that makes sense," jisung hums. you ignore the disappointment that courses through you when he lets his hand return to his side - widening the space between you once again. "did they hurt?”

“not much,” you shrug. “cleaning them everyday was a pain, though.”

“sometimes i fall asleep without taking my makeup off,” he chuckles. “i don’t think i’d be able to handle the upkeep.”

“you get used to it,” you smile. “have you ever thought about getting any yourself?”

“sometimes. never seriously though.”

you nod in acknowledgement, leaning back against the bathroom counter. in the momentary silence, jisung finds himself staring at your lips once again - more specifically at the thin rings looped around your mouth.

“you look really nice.” the words escape his mouth before he realizes what they are. you softly smile at him as his face flushes a bright red; jisung’s mind races to come up with an excuse. “your piercings - i mean.”

“so you don’t think i look nice?” you tease.

jisung bites his bottom lip. “of course you do,” he finally murmurs. “do they affect kissing?”

you freeze. wide eyes meet your own before jisung quickly takes a small step backwards away from you. he stares down at his feet with overly flushed cheeks.

excuses fall from his lips in waves before you take a step closer, limiting the space between you once again. jisung pauses when you reach up to cup his cheek with your hand. “i’m not sure,” you murmur. there’s a beat of silence before you speak again. “...i’ve never kissed anyone before.”

“do you want to?” his voice is so quiet you almost miss it entirely. the feeling of your heart beating so rapidly in your chest is almost overwhelming.

“yeah,” you finally whisper. “i’d like that.”

your eyes flutter closed as jisung slowly begins to lean in. your breath hitches in your throat from the anticipation before he finally presses his lips against yours.

jisung’s lips are soft - softer than yours. your bodies move in an unconscious rhythm as you slowly continue to limit the amount of space between you. his touch is gentle as he rests his hands on your waist; your arms snake around his neck, just barely beginning to tangle into his hair.

you only pull away when the lack of air begins scratching at your lungs. you’re all but panting as jisung leans in, resting his forehead against your own. “so?” you whisper with a shy smile. “how does it feel to kiss someone with piercings?”

“it’s better,” he breathlessly chuckles. “way better.”

your rebuttal dies on the tip of your tongue when jisung leans in, pressing his lips against your own once again.

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, consider checking out my nct dream masterlist <3

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sushiwriterhere · 6 months

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summary: your shoulders won't stop aching and Nanami sits across from you at the cafe | 3.1k warnings: nanami x reader 18+, reader is (lightly) cursed, PiV (unprotected), nanami follows reader around sorta (for protection purposes), oral (f receiving) notes: this is my first jjk fic, pls let me know what u think <3 (to all my tg fans.. hope u can forgive me). not sure who to tag but i hope if u read u enjoy!

It’s late. The letters on the screen blur as you try to keep reading–you’ve lost track of how long you’ve been sitting here, trying to slog through your latest assigned reading. It’s not usually like this for you, like pulling teeth or climbing up ten flights of stairs, usually law school feels like a blessing.

Everyone warned you about competitive peers and cutthroat curves, but instead you found a community of people who shared your passion for the law and didn’t find it odd that you could launch into a twenty-minute rant about the poorly designed logic of originalism at any moment. It was comforting to feel like you’d found your place in the world, to feel like you’d found your path. Was, being the operative word here.

Lately everything felt heavy, felt, off balance. Some days, you stayed in bed until you were sure you would miss the bus to your lecture hall, only to make it by some grace of god, half disheveled and not sure you’d brought everything you needed. Some days, your apartment was too quiet, the one-bedroom you’d always longed for feeling more suffocating than the freeing space you’d needed it to be. You’d smile at your peers but gently reject invites for drinks or group study at the law library, citing your internship or a family call, but really, you just couldn’t bring yourself to spend more time than you already were in other peoples’ presence.

Your only bright spot is Nanami. Every week, without fail, at least three times a week, you find yourself sitting across from him at the cafe down the street from your apartment complex. It’s an odd, unspoken arrangement. The cafe had been crowded one Thursday morning and he’d wordlessly stood behind the chair across from you before sitting after you’d nodded once. He always orders the same thing, a hot Americano–though he’s taken to sliding a muffin across to you ever so often.

Sometimes you think that when he looks at you, he’s the only person who can really see you. Other times it feels like he’s almost looking right past you, like he’s trying to make out the face of someone far over your shoulder.

Even so, it is a tender set of interactions that buoys you throughout the week, until you find yourself sitting in front of Nanami at a quiet restaurant. Whatever you’ve ordered at random is savory and tender, and pairs beautifully with the wine he chose. It’s also exactly what you would’ve picked.

The candlelight illuminates his face in a way that throws his features into stark relief, masculine, chiseled, and so beautiful. He’s saying something, and you wish you could put your hand on his chest to feel the rumble of the baritone you know is there. You think it might ground you in a way you haven’t felt in a while. You feel like you’re watching the entire interaction outside yourself.

Then he’s paying the bill and pulling out your chair, taking you by the hand as he walks you to the coat check. You let him slip your jacket over your bare shoulders, missing the way the way he stiffens when his fingers brush your bare skin. Everything feels so far away then, and you almost stumble out the door.

You move your lips to form words, to thank him for the meal, the company, the kindness, but you can’t. The world is foggy and somewhere between your shoulder blades is a deep, aching sort of pain.

I should see a chiropractor, you think to yourself, wondering if all your time laying on your side looking out your apartment windows has finally caught up to you.

Standing in front of you, Nanami considers you. But he’s not looking at you, instead he’s looking at the curse curled across your shoulders. It’s small, but that doesn’t matter–he sees the way it pulses with a dense cursed energy. If he strains his senses, he can pick up on its scent, the almost acrid stench.

It’s been feeding on you for a while now–he first spotted you from across the crowded cafe you both frequent–a small thing at first. He hadn’t wanted to startle you by trying to exorcize it in the middle of that crowded room. Instead, he sat across from you, made friends, even?

Despite the curse, he enjoyed your presence. You had gentle features, smelled nice, and your brow furrowed whenever you were thinking particularly hard about something until you would reach up to smooth a few fingers over your brow as if push the wrinkle away. The feelings were on accident, really. He’d just wanted to keep an eye on you, make sure the curse wasn’t giving you too much trouble.

After that he’d learned too much about you in his effort to ‘keep you safe’–

(“Nanami, where are you off to at this hour?” Nanami ignored the other man as he pulled on his jacket.

He’d spent a few minutes too many indulging in a hot cup of coffee, now he was going to be late if he didn’t hurry. You always got off the bus at this hour, and the curse was starting to really settle in. He didn’t like the faraway look you had in your eyes as you walked; he wasn’t sure you’d notice someone following you or coming up behind you. You hadn’t noticed him yet.

Gojo really couldn’t help himself, he was too nosy for his own good. Which was why Nanami couldn’t tell him, rather, refused to tell him about you. But he was running out of excuses and Gojo was getting particularly good at delegating, so he was spending more time than ever hanging around looking for someone to bother.

“Lock the door behind me.” Was all he said in response, cutting off the other sorcerer’s garbled protests.)

Now, standing across from you, he sees a beautiful woman being drained of her life as a filthy curse digs its talons into you.

Against his better judgment, Nanami steps forward towards you. In the restaurant, the candle light lit your face from below. Here, the street lights are above, emphasizing the darkness under your eyes. You haven’t been sleeping.

Your eyes are glossed over when you look up at him, but you place your hands on his chest, his dress shirt dimpling under your fingertips. Rising on your toes, your hands smooth over his shoulders. Something curls pleasantly in his chest at the way your eyes widen when your hands find his muscles.

His hands find their way to your hips, slipping underneath the coat that you didn’t bother to button.

The curse thrashes angrily the closer Nanami gets. He ignores it. He can smell the perfume you put on you dotted on your wrists, the insides of your elbows, and it makes something twist in his gut. It’s a startling realization to understand that you want someone’s smell on your sheets for the rest of your life.

You watch as Nanami turns his head, nose dragging across the sensitive inner side of your forearm to dot a kiss in the crook of your elbow. It sends a shiver down your spine at the same time as the pain intensifies in your back. Your knees buckle as he catches you.

Nanami carries you home. He picked a place close to you just in case he needed to get you alone (not like that) to rid you of the curse. You’re lucid enough to push your purse into his chest so he can fish the keys out and unlock the front door.

The inside of your apartment is as much the one-bedroom of a law student as he’d imagined it. There’s a desk by the window with textbooks stacked on one side, and one open in the middle. Highlighters of every color are arranged neatly next to it, a stack of cutesy sticky notes tying everything together.

“Can you stand?” His voice rumbles in his chest next to your ear, and for a few moments you’re free of pain and that ache, like some sort of noise therapy effect.

You let him stand you upright until, in a flash, your breath is stolen from you.

What did he just do to me? Who did I let into my house? You think in a moment of panic until you realize your back doesn’t hurt anymore.

Nanami’s staring at you, a tender look in his eyes. One of his large, warm, hands is gripping your shoulder over your coat, and it grounds you.

In a moment, your lips are on his. Maybe it’s the way he carried you back to your apartment, maybe’s it’s the way he’s been sitting across from you for three months now, steadily buying you sweets and paying for your coffees and teas. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s so tall, and so broad, and he looks at you like you hung the fucking moon.

You hang on to the lapels of his coat as his mouth works furiously against yours. Weaving one hand into his hair, you clutch with the other at his shoulders for dear life as he pulls you into him. He’s got one hand cupping your face, the other around your waist.

Suddenly you feel so full of life and you want him, desperately. You go to throw off your coat but he pulls back for just a moment.

“Are you sure?” The mere tone of his voice does something indescribable to you, and you nod furiously as you tear off the garment.

He shoulders off his coat as well and toes out of his dress shoes as he walks you backwards into the nearest wall. You groan in appreciation as he noses down your jawline, behind your ear, to the dip at the base of your neck.

A shiver tears down your back as you realize he’s smelling you, inhaling the perfume you put on earlier. You pant as he just holds you there, taking you in. The tip of his nose is slightly too cold in contrast with the warm softness of his lips that follow.

“Nanami,” you try, gripping at his shoulders for dear life as he goes to kneel before you. You want his lips on yours, want to taste the wine you both drank earlier from his mouth.

“Patience,” He murmurs as he takes one of your legs over his broad, broad, shoulders and you keen, high, reedy, in the back of your throat at the way his teeth scrape at your inner thigh.

You feel more alive than you have in six months and he wants you to wait? With everything in you you want him to hurry and fuck you, to feel the weight of him in you and around you in your bed, to have him tangled in your sheets. And yet he takes his time.

Nanami is a patient man. He knows what it is to bide your time for the good things–he used to be a salaryman after all. He has waited for this moment. The part of him that sympathizes with what you must be feeling right now, the surge of energy after the months of being drained like a maple tree. But though ever patient, Nanami knows what he wants.

What he wants is exactly this–tugging your damp panties to the side with a crook of his fingers, tilting his head up and forward to lick up your center and to taste you. What he wants is to keep hearing the sounds you’re making, the sighs and staccato’d ah-ah-ah’s you can’t hold back as he sucks insistently on your clit. What he wants is to keep feeling the way you hug his two fingers, hot, and wet, and so tight and fluttering.

You tremble against the way he leans against you, keeps you up against the wall. You’ve had people go down on you in your time, you’re in your late 20s not dead. But none of them have done this–have eaten you out like it’s for them, and not you.

Nanami stays where he is til your hands twist painfully in his hair, til you’re shaking with overstimulation after cumming so hard you think you might’ve blacked out for just a moment.

Your chest rises and falls quickly, yet in the most tantalizing way, as your nipples strain against the satin fabric stretched over your chest. Your eyes are wild and your cheeks are flushed as he leans in to kiss you ever so gently, only bothering to wipe his chin with the sleeve of his dress shirt so it doesn’t drip onto his chest.

He has to wear that home tomorrow, you think to yourself, and something curls almost painfully in your chest from arousal.

One by one, you open the buttons of his shirt as he kisses you intently. He runs his tongue along your teeth as you tug the bottom of it out of his slacks and his fingers tighten on your waist as you unbutton his pants and stick your hand in his briefs. God. He’s heavy and thick and hot in your hand, and you think you can feel his pulse from the way he throbs in your grip.

He grunts softly when you slide down his length only to tighten your grip and twist your wrist. There’s not much room between the two of you, not with the way he’s pressed up against you, but you make an effort anyways.

“Take me to bed, Nanami.”

So he does. He pulls himself away from your reach with a final peck, before grabbing your thighs and picking you up. It’s a certain sort of primal attraction you feel at the effortless way he carries your weight and sets you down ever so gently on your sheets. At this angle, you have the perfect view.

His shirt, untucked and unbuttoned reveals a trim waist and a broad, muscular chest. The one you’d felt earlier. His slacks are tented and there’s a small damp patch just to the left of the middle seam. He flexes his hands once before kneeling before you once again. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you watch as he slides your heels off one by one, ever so gently.

You’d forgotten you were wearing them.

As he shrugs his shirt off, you twist yourself around so you’re sitting on your heels, so you can pull your dress up and over your shoulders. His pants are halfway down his thighs when you reemerge and then you two are frozen in a momentary staring contest.

Nanami doesn’t think he’s gawking per se, but his gaze isn’t innocent by any means. Your satin dress is pooling off one arm, no longer framing your figure just so. Your nipples are hard and he thinks your tits might be the perfect size to fit in his palms (he’ll have to find out). Your panties are lace trimmed, and although Nanami of ten years ago might’ve rolled his eyes (“I’m going to take them off anyway.”), the man before you swallows dryly. The eroticism of watching you undress cannot be overstated.

He finishes pulling off his slacks to give himself a distraction. You’re so beautiful it makes his chest ache, especially now that you’re not weighed down by grief and anger and sadness.

You’ve made your way to the edge of the mattress by the time he stands to his full height again. Your hands are warm and soft against his skin as you explore the planes of his chest, scratching softly at the waistband of his briefs. You press a kiss to his sternum and something terrible blooms right underneath his skin.

He leans down to press you into the bed so he doesn’t have to dwell on that for too long. Below him you’re soft and warm and so responsive. You sigh into his mouth when he drags a fingertip over your nipples, when he rocks his hips into yours.

Eventually he rids himself of his briefs, and you wiggle out of your panties, an excited look gracing your features. He pretends it doesn’t affect him the way it does.

When he finally sinks into you, he thinks he can’t breathe. It’s not some overwrought metaphor about being inside you it’s about being with you. You’re here with him, after he took you to dinner, carried you home, got rid of the curse. It’s you who’s moaning his name, scraping your nails across his shoulders and back.

You’re tilting your hips up into his, gasping in pleasure, whispering filthy sweet nothings– “Been thinking about this since I first saw you–” “Feels so good, Nanami, you feel so good–” “Only want you like this–”

He finishes with a punched out groan and he feels the way you clench around him at the sensation. A hand slips between you two and he finds your clit again with his fingers, determined to get you off again. It’s only fair.

Your face contorts in pleasure as you finish again, and the way you bear down on him makes his head spin. He holds himself above you as you both come down, resting his forehead against yours and trying to catch his breath–certainly not from physical exertion.

When he pulls out, when he goes to stand, to find something to clean you up, make you comfortable for sleep, you catch him by the wrist.

“Stay.” Is all you say, smiling softly at him. It’s so much closer to how Nanami imagined you’d looked before the curse, without its weight on your shoulders that he thinks he might be sick.

And stay he does. He cleans you up tenderly then coaxes you into the bathroom so you can wash your face and brush your teeth. He follows your instructions dutifully on where to find a clean pair of sheets and hangs your dress up back inside the first empty garment bag he spots inside your closet.

Nanami lets you press a toothbrush into his palm, lets you peck his lips with your lip mask on, and push him toward the bathroom with a smile. He made the bed. Your dress is hanging in the closet.

It’s painfully domestic and nurturing in a way you maybe didn’t expect from someone who bed you on the first date. But then again, you’d wanted him to. (The underwear, the perfume–men.)

When you finally watch him climb into bed next to you, you’re more than satisfied by the way he tugs you into his arms and just holds you. There’s no pretense, no motive, nothing other than wanting to hold you and feel your skin on his. You feel lighter than you have in months.

#nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #kento nanami #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kento #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami #kento #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami jjk

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