#running away to the land of discovery
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can you see me on the edge? I’m enlightened..
#when I found you on the ground you were dying#if the world was ending..#tell me now. I want you to be clear.#can you put the time on a rewind?#help me understand. can u tell me?#w your deaf ears#open your mind#what do you want from a life of the hopeless?#running away to the land of discovery#running away from the suffering#running away from the darkness#music#tems
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You Will Always Matter.
"Nobody has your back better than you, well, besides God, of course."
* Insert whoever you believe in*
If you don't believe you are important, I suggest you look within to fix whatever is broken inside of you. Because YOU are meant to spread love, heal, and create so many amazing things in this world. So, if no one ever told you that you matter, or you just don't feel like you matter in this world, I just want you to know that I believe you matter, and so should you.
Sincerely, V
Quotes of Encouragement:
1. You matter. Your story matters. Your hopes, dreams and fears matter. All that you are matters.
(By: The Random Vibez)
2. You won't always be a priority to others, and that's why you have to be a priority to yourself. Learn to respect yourself, take care of yourself, and become your own support system. Your needs matter. Start meeting them. Don't wait for others to choose you. Choose yourself.
(By: Saying Images)
3. No matter how far life pushes you down, no matter how much you hurt, you can always bounce back.
(By: Sherly Swoopes
#motivateyourself#you matter#your feelings are valid#your feelings matter#love yourself#stay positive#words of encouragement#choose your own path#choose wisely#choose happiness#your path#running away to the land of discovery#bounce back#your amazing#speak your truth#your true self#your time will come#postive thoughts
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x : CALL ME BACK : *+ﾟ
in which: ratio has been waiting for your call since you left.
warnings: FLUFF i promise, 1.6k wc, gn!reader, ratio being horribly in love and pining so badly, reader works as a space researcher, reader is a sunshine so this is basically sunshine x grump/asshole, written during his first release/ v1.6.
a/n: the way i wrote the synopsis made it sound like it was sad. maybe i'll write an angst version of the same prompt. anyways i listened to 'she calls me back' by noah kahan on loop when writing this, enjoy!
Dr. Ratio is not happy with you.
It has been three weeks and three days since he last received any sort of notification from you, any sort of indication that you were healthy and alive whilst traversing the universe. Typically, you would send daily updates of how your exploration was progressing, or new intergalactic discoveries of yours, regardless of whether or not he cared.
(He cares. He cares more than his indifferent texts lead on. There’s a reason he always responds, after all, and it’s not just because you’ve been friends for almost two decades now.
To him, your constant messages and calls told him that you were thinking of him, and the more space he occupies in your mind, the happier he is; that is a theory he discovered years ago.
He happily listens to all of your rambles. He'll listen whilst in the middle of grading various papers or writing one of his own, he'll listen whilst eating, he'll listen to you as long as you reach out.
So where are the messages he was waiting for?)
Today is the arranged day for you to return from your new mission. Ratio has been counting down the days since he first marked it on his large desk calender, your return being the first event on his list.
He is undeniably excited to see you, yet he feels petty enough to not make the trip down and welcome you by the docks, even if your ship’s landing zone is just outside the University.
It’s irrational of him to hold your inactivity against you. Perhaps you just encountered an inconvenience and lost your phone, or wherever you are does not have good reception to send a text halfway across the galaxy. He understands that your safety comes first on these missions, but he can’t help but feel neglected, and he curses the fragility of his ego for making him this way.
The clock strikes another hour. From his office, Ratio cannot see the ships and come and go, but his ‘scholarly instincts’ are telling him that you are on your way.
Not even ten minutes later, a figure comes barrelling into his office.
“There he is!” You exclaim exuberantly. It seems that the length of the mission did not erode your enthusiasm, and he’s grateful that it is as contagious as he remembers. “And here I was wondering where you were, did you dig your nose too deep in those encyclopaedias you love to memorise?”
You’re still in your research gear, hips and legs buckled to the brim with various equipment that are necessary to your work, and his heart beats guiltily at the sight.
You came to see him as soon as you landed. He was your first destination after a tiring three and a half weeks away from home, not the comfort of your home or bed or shower; him.
“Ha. Ha.” The purple-haired laughs dryly, getting up from his chair and rounding his desk. “Good to see you still alive.”
“What’s with the lack of energy? Didn’t you miss me, Veritas?”
He did. More than you could ever imagine. “Of course I did.”
Opening his arms for a hug, you all but run into his embrace, throwing your arms and anchoring yourself to the sturdiness of his torso. After not seeing you for so long, your familiar frame and warmth provides nothing but comfort.
“Welcome home,” Ratio murmurs into your hairline.
Your arms squeeze him tighter. “Good to be back.”
After a few beats of silence, you step away from him and he reluctantly detaches himself from you.
“I got you something,” you say whilst setting down your bag. Pulling out a suitcase, the purple-haired looks at you inquisitively. “It’s a chess board! I got you a new one to add to your collection!”
Ratio doesn’t bother correcting you that his ‘collection’ only has seven boards at most, but that does not negate his gratitude.
Even whilst away, you thought of him, and that is a great victory.
“Thank you. We can play together, sometime,” he proposes.
“Oh, please. I could never beat you.”
“Giving up before you even start? That does not sound like the Y/n I know.”
“It’s not ‘giving up’, it’s picking my battles wisely. I could never best you in a game of chess, or any competition of intellect,” you laugh as if the idea itself was ridiculous.
“You shouldn’t discredit yourself based on your own assumptions. I think you make a very capable opponent.”
“I know your tricks, Veritas. Buttering me up just so you can chip at my armour and knock me down when I’m weak, have you no shame?” Your voice is light, with an air of joviality to it, and the purple-haired is enchanted.
It seems that you don’t know him as well as you think. He finds no shame in hogging as much of your time as possible, even if it is through a game of chess that he will beat you at. He also hopes that you don’t know him well enough to hear the subtle desperation in his voice when he enquires if you’ll be leaving for another mission soon.
“I don’t believe so,” you tell him nonchalantly. “I’ll be stationed here for about two months. They’re expecting a detailed, twenty-page length report from me, so I guess I’ll be locked in my study until that’s complete.”
Ratio clicks his tongue. “Pity.”
(It’s not a pity. He gets to spend two months with you in compensation for the month that he was robbed of.)
“Not to sound self-absorbed, but why weren’t you there are the dock to pick me up?” You ask.
“Were you disappointed?”
“A little. You’re always the first face I see whenever I come home. It was jarring to not see you amongst the crowd.”
Jealousy slashes at his chest, and he turns away from you to hide his sour expression. “I apologise, I must have lost track of the days.”
“You’re Doctor Veritas Ratio. According to your crazy schedules, there are 72 hours instead of 24 in a standard day, you never lose track.”
Truth is a fascinating thing. By nature, it is black and white, but it’s perception is what traps fools. Humans have strived to discover an uncontested truth for as long as they have existed, but as long as opinions exist, it will constantly be revised and put together again, ambiguity heavy in the air that surrounds it.
You, however, are even more fascinating with the way you can deconstruct him so easily.
“If you must know, I was… upset with you because you were not messaging me.”
The silence that follows is deafening.
Your laughter is even more so.
Hubris can really kill a man. Ratio does not need to consult the texts of ancient philosophers to confirm that.
“Really?” You choke out in between cackles. “I didn’t think such menial things mattered to you!”
“Normally, they don’t.”
“So, I’m a special case then?”
“I shouldn’t need to spell it out for you.”
“Veritas!” You coo, placing your hands on either sides of his face. “I am so flattered!”
Dr. Ratio is a renowned scholar with eight doctorate degrees. The mere mention of his name will inspire hundreds, if not, thousands, of people who have the faintest lust for academia, spreading marvel and fear amongst students and professors alike. His achievements will be engraved and celebrated by the university for centuries to come, and his classes are so notoriously hard that the passing rate is 3%.
And yet, here he is, reduced to putty in your hands.
Perhaps that is who he is at his core. Rid from him the alabaster head, the codex, and pride, you’ll be left with a man who is ardently in love with his best friend.
“Stop it, this is ridiculous!” He mutters, hoping to salvage his image at least a little.
You listen to his demands, separating from him with a hearty laugh. “So you really do like me, that’s nice to know.”
(It is far beyond ‘like’ now. Can you come back and hold his face again?)
“I like you when you’re quiet.”
“Clearly not if you loathed my virtual silence! Which, by the way, was caused because the planet I was on had horrible reception. I really need to switch cell providers, mine doesn’t even reach to half way across the galaxy, apparently.”
“Well. I am glad you survived the three weeks without reception, it must have been a formidable challenge for you.”
“Were you worried for me?”
Of course he was. Whilst you freely roam the expansiveness of the universe, the only thing that anchors him to you across the span of light years is a message. “You should stop asking questions you know the answer to.”
“Boo, you’re no fun.” You lean down to grab the bags that lay at your feet, swinging them over one shoulder. Do you have to leave so soon? “Well, I better get going. I’m aching for a shower and a nap. Now that I have proper data and Wifi, rest assured that I will be texting you soon.”
“Cannot wait.”
“Goodbye, Veritas! I shall see you soon!”
‘Soon’ is a relative time frame. He can only hope that you won’t keep him waiting again.
The door clicks shut behind you, and not even five seconds later, his phone buzzes with a call.
“Sorry!” Your voice greets from the other end of the line. “Was just testing if my reception actually worked.”
“There is a reason your day job is a Space Researcher and not a comedian.”
“Can’t you at least laugh? Let’s grab dinner tomorrow at half past six, make yourself free, Veritas!”
You hang up before he can even get a word in, and he’s left to stare at the blank screen of his phone with an idiotic smile.
Everything’s alright when you call him back.
© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.
#earthtooz: honkai star rail#dr ratio x reader#veritas ratio x reader#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#ratio x reader#dr ratio fluff#dr. ratio x reader#tumblr please show this in the tags
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[minotaur] Boss
minotaur!Boss x human!Reader
Good to know: blowjob
Summary: You have a job interview with Boss.
A/N: Let's go back to the pub we visited here and here.
The silence following the minotaur's words is deafening. His deep voice echoes in your suddenly empty head. Even the world feels frozen and motionless just like you. Your eyes are wide open, your lips dry, and your spine is straight and rigid against the back of the chair.
Your shocked voice breaks the silence when you find the power to force it out of your chest. "Now?"
Your gaze follows the small tug of his thin lips. The thick golden piercing in his nose shines under the dim light of his office.
"Do you have anything else to do?" He asks. His question is almost mocking. A silent laugh shakes his broad shoulders. The black shirt he wears stretches on his upper body. The thin fabric does nothing to hide his stomach and the hard plates of his chest.
"No." You have to clear your throat. "No."
"I'm waiting then," he says, pushing himself away from the wooden desk separating you two. You can still feel the amusement in his words. He is waiting for you to run for the hills, you are sure of it.
A small, determined frown pulls on your brows as you scowl at the air in front of you. Your chest heaves with a deep breath before you stand up and put your bag on your previous seat.
If he wants you to prove yourself, who are you to say no?
His gaze is heavy and burning as you approach him and stand between his spread legs. His jeans stretch around his trunk-like thighs. The bulge between them looks uncomfortable.
"I'm waiting," he hums, pushing his hips forward to the edge of his chair.
You force your eyes up to his face. "Then wait a bit more."
The male smirks at your grunt. So you can be feisty, he thinks with a hint of satisfaction. His half-hard cock jerks at the new discovery.
Without another word, you drop down on the ground. The wooden floor is hard and uncomfortable under your knees. Your hands are a bit shaky as you place them on his legs, slowly moving them up on his thighs. You can feel the movement of his muscles under your palms.
You can do it, you tell yourself. You knew about the pub even before you came in a few days ago because of the advertisement taped on the door. You knew your job would be more than serving drinks and handling drunk idiots.
You caress his thighs, letting your nails dig into the rough fabric of his jeans and enjoying the thick flesh under your touch. His legs spread open even more, and you have to hide your smirk. He is not as unresponsive to your presence as he wants to show it. Your hand lands on the obvious tent in front of you, but you take your time. You palm his cock through his trousers, trying to feel his shaft and find out what waits for you under the fly of his pants.
"Girl," he grunts. Impatience twitches his muscles as he watches you. You can't help but smirk at the slight warning in his gruff tone.
"What?" You ask back teasingly, looking up at him as you lean closer and lick over the obvious tent.
The armrest creaks under his hold. Of course, he can feel nothing because of his jeans, but even the sight of you licking him through his pants is enough to make his cock jerk with anticipation.
A relieved sigh leaves his chest when you have mercy on him and open his trousers. The tip of his cock almost hits you on the nose when it pops out. The male can't help but smirk at the shock on your face.
"If it's too much for you, I understand, little girl," Boss says, not even hiding the mocking in his words. He does this on purpose, and when you scoff, he laughs. That's what he wanted to hear.
Your fingers are not even long enough to grab the base of his shaft fully. Your thumb moves up and down on a thick vein for a few seconds as you try to get used to the sight of his cock. He is thick and heavy in your hand, and there is a piercing at the top similar to the one he has in his nose. The gold glints under the lights.
"Did it hurt?" You ask him, still staring at the jewelry.
"Worth it," he grunts, watching your hand moving up and down on his shaft while you scoot closer between his thighs. Your warm breath fans over the tip of his cock. It glistens with his pre-cum. The male smirks with satisfaction at your expression as you still stare at his erection. You are surprised and amazed. You've never seen a minotaur so close before. The base of his cock is thicker than your wrist, and the head is bulbous with the piercing hanging underneath it. The golden jewelry is soaked in his juices.
"Come on, girl," Boss breaks the silence after a while, pushing his hips up a bit to pull you out of your cock-trance. "You will see it enough times if you get the job."
Both of your hands are around his length, stroking him up and down as you lean closer and let the tip of your tongue meet his cock. You can't even call it a proper lick, but it's enough to make the broad male grunt in front of you.
"Girl," he warns you again, gripping the armrest of his chair. The wood creaks in his hold.
"Hm?" You hum teasingly but don't bother with words as you twist your hands around his cock. Your fingers graze up and down on his velvety skin, smearing his pre-cum all over his length. Flicking the piercing with your tongue, you watch him exhale through his nose. It's dark brown, matching the soft fur covering his whole body. The hair at the top of his head is slightly darker. His horns point at the ceiling with a slight curve.
"Show me how much you want this job."
His salty taste spreads over your tongue as you lick over the bulbous head of his cock, teasing the small hole. With a hiss, Boss lets his head fall back on the headrest. Your mouth is tight and wet on his cock, as you try to not choke yourself with his erection. One of his hands lands on the back of your head. His palm is warm and huge in your hair.
"Fuck," the minotaur growls when he feels your tongue licking along a vein on the underside of his cock. His hips move on their own accord. He bucks into your mouth, making you gag and spit on his length. Your lips are shiny with your saliva, and his cock is soaked in your drool and his pre-cum. Tears run down from the corner of your eyes as he keeps you on his cock, making you swallow him some more. Your nails dig into the hard meat of his thighs. There is no way you can take him into your mouth fully, the tip of his cock is already kissing the back of your throat while your hand pumps him at the base.
"Now," he groans with a smirk on his lips. "That's a pretty sight, no?"
Your lips are stretched around his cock as you drool around him, and your eyes are teary and half-closed. You suckle on his cock, flicking the piercing every now and again as you gulp down around him. His cock pulses in your warm channel and his heavy balls twitch every now and again, ready to cum and flood you with his seed.
"I knew you would look good with a mouth full of my cock."
Boss almost laughs at the sight of you. Not even twenty minutes ago, you were almost shocked at his request to suck him off, and now you kneel between his thick legs, cock-drunk. Saliva drips down in his shaft and your chin, making a mess all over. Your tongue swipes along the edge of the tip of his cock, and he growls every time you reach his golden piercing.
For a second, he plays with the thought of throwing you onto his desk and fucking your wet cunt until you fall apart on him, but he has no time for it. You on your knees, gulping down on his cock have to be enough for now.
"I'm gonna cum, girl," he warns you, not letting your head out of his grasp as he keeps you on his cock. He can almost see the bulge at your throat as you take him deeper.
Fuck.
"Swallow it down, and you have the job," he says between clenched teeth. "Show me how much you want this."
Your eyes are wide and slightly red as you look up at him while he shoots his seed into your mouth. Your jaw aches, and your throat is already sore as you gulp, trying to keep his warm cum in your mouth, but a few drops still spill down from the corners of your mouth. His shaft pulses in your hand, and you are almost sure he gets bigger in your mouth with each spurt. By the time his cock softens, you are soaked in your own drool and his cum.
Boss cups your chin, tilting your head up to have a better look at you while his lips tug into a smirk full of promises. "We have to practice some more until you can swallow down everything I give you, no?"
-
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#monster romance#monster x human#monster x reader#monster boyfriend#monster smut#grimbrook#terat0philliac#teratophillia#terato#exophelia#minotaur boyfriend#minotaur x reader#minotaur x human#minotaur smut#minotaur romance
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The story of my 3-year-long quest to identify a very rare bird
So I've been trying almost since I moved here to figure out what bird made this strange call that I sometimes heard near my house:
I tried to google "european bird that sounds like a laughing hyena?" and also to imitate the noise over the phone for a friend who once took an online bird course, but she had no idea. (Well, she said "that's a hyena." I said, "but I hear it all the time! Near my house!! Wait I'll do it better." She said, please stop making a hyena noise :(( and I stopped because the cats thought I was losing my mind)
Eventually I managed to record the actual bird call on my phone, and used a Shazam app for birds—but once again, no luck. The first app I tried just assumed it was being trolled and was like "it's you, isn't it? That's not a bird that's your stupid human laugh, you're making fun of me. I'm not an idiot"
The second birdsong app was more insecure and apologised a lot for failing to identify my bird. I thought it must be a rare bird! (The only uncommon bird I know of in this region is the vulture but it sounds less like a hyena and more like if elephants were birds.) Every time I heard the call (usually during the day) I opened the window trying to a) get a better recording so my app would finally have an epiphany, and b) see something flying off a tree.
At one point I was cutting brooms in the pasture and heard the call very loudly, as if the bird was just a few metres away, and it wasn't coming from the sky. I googled every possible version of "flightless (?) bird that nests in thorny bushes?" and found nothing, and started wondering if it was actually a mammal. But I couldn't think of any plausible local mammal that would make this sound—definitely not a fox or badger, who say WAOOHHH, and nothing like the polite whistle of marmots. We've got pine martens in the woods and I found a video called "mating pine marten scream bark" and thought oh!! that must be it! ... but then I listened to it and it sounded like yiiiaaaaaeeeeee, like if you stepped on a baby banshee's toe, nothing at all like the heheeheuruurhh of a hyena who just heard a good joke.
Anyway, this morning I was in the pasture and I once again heard the hyena laugh! I was standing by the moose butler tying up the hay net, away from any trees or shrubs and the call came from just behind me. I turned around thinking there was absolutely no way for the mystery bird to hide, it had landed on the ground behind me and this time I was going to see it!
And
it was HER:
Absolutely no doubt. I saw Pampy's throat vibrating along with the last echoes of the hyena laugh. All these years I've been saying that llamas are very quiet animals who just make cute little "hum-hum" sounds (I rarely hear adult llamas humming to one another, it's mostly for mother llamas to communicate with their baby and with me) and I had no idea that the shrieking hyena-bird I occasionally heard outside my house was Pampelune! I googled "llama alarm cry" and immediately found youtube videos featuring llamas making this exact sound. There was a stray dog nearby this morning that Pandolf eventually chased away, so maybe Pampy was the first to hear him and sounded the alarm. Maybe she uses this cry to tell Pan to go do his guard dog job, because he left the pasture and ran into the woods when she made the sound (while I was turning round like "aha! you can't run, hyena-bird!")
I wanted to share this discovery! I've had llamas for nearly 4 years and I'm only now finding out that they can laugh like hyenas when the situation calls for it. I feel bad for the poor birdsong app that I've repeatedly gaslighted feeding it a llama call and insisting that it identify this bird for me while it hung its head in shame like "I swear I don't have your bird in my database. I'm so sorry. I'm a bad app."
Llamas are fascinating creatures. Please experience their majestic alarm call again, and be alarmed:
#crawling along#you can look it up on youtube if you want to check with your own eyes (and ears)#i would understand the scepticism. it seems like such a random sound for llamas to make!#also as i started writing this post i thought i'd check what hyenas actually sound like and#it's not like that at all ! i assumed they had a mean-spirited cackle because of the lion king i think#when really it's more of a charming good-natured giggle
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The sheer development of botw/totk zelink…
Zelda didn’t originally like Link. She outright avoided him at all costs and wasn’t particularly nice to him. And despite her own efforts, Link’s own determination and devotion to his role finally wore her down to the point where she realized how wrong she had judged him.
Link was a prodigy, he had the sword that would seal the darkness already (had since he was a mere preteen) and was known for besting adults in duels as a literal child. She was born with powers she couldn’t unlock despite all the effort she put in. She thought he was simply handed his fortunes in life with no consequences, while she struggled daily to uphold her father’s expectations for her and neglect her own hobbies.
But when Link steadfastly protected her in a place she had specifically gone to in order to escape him, she sees the truth behind it all. Link is determined. He never backs down from a fight. He’s also reckless and she understands this as she chastises him and worries over his well-being. He’s knowledgeable about horses and has good advice, always willing to share it when someone (aka Zelda) needs to hear it. She learns bit by bit about Link until she outright questions why he doesn’t talk much. And he genuinely hesitates but decides that he can share this with her. She’s the only one he ever has. Because she asked.
And he tells her. The sword on his back brings a great responsibility and massive burden to bare. He feels the need to be strong and to be the stoic perfect knight to take on the role everyone expects him to play.
They become much closer after this and there’s multiple times we see Link actually neglect his role as her protector in order to just be there for Zelda as her friend. Once in the spring memory where he turns after Zelda berated her inability to awaken her power and the second when they’re literally running away from murder bots and he doesn’t force her to continue when she slips but rather kneels, listens, and comforts her.
And to find out that Zelda’s love for Link is the reason she awakened her powers and that it’s canonically proven through Kass’ song? Wow. And that doesn’t even BEGIN their story and how it ends in totk.
In botw, the Japanese original logs are written by Link himself and it’s revealed that one of his motivators in saving Zelda was to see her smile once again. Just. Remember that.
Of course the game end and we do see Link and Zelda planning on traveling to investigate Vah Ruta. And we find out in ToTK that the two are inseparable, so much so that without Zelda by his side no one recognizes Link beyond the characters that genuinely know him through the story.
They’ve traveled across Hyrule and helped numerous people, no matter what it was. They live together in Hateno, where they helped to build a school and even teach the kids there. They founded expedition and research teams, reformed a guard, and even found the time to ‘vacation’ at Lurelin where they would go up to Lover’s Pond in the evening.
Zelda and Link create a home out of Hyrule. It’s no longer a desolate, sparingly populated land. It’s being reformed. It’s being cared for. It’s their home. They lost theirs 100years prior but they’ve steadily worked to make it a home once again. They were healing. Together.
So losing Zelda again, being unable to reach her, and also losing his sword. . . It’s a lot. But the thing he knows he must do— Find Princess Zelda. Despite knowing exactly where Zelda is after you finish the Tears of the Dragon Quest, Link does not complete it. Because he hasn’t found his Zelda. The one that rambles on about everything and gets excited about history and new discoveries. The one that tried to make him eat a frog (albeit she was on to something). She isn’t home.
Meanwhile Zelda. . . Zelda goes on about Link, enough for Sonia to know all about him and his tendency to worry over Zelda’s well-being. And then we have memory eight that has Zelda practically gushing about him to her pseudo-parents and promptly being teased for it. Then, as Zelda finally understands why she is in the past, she ensures Link has everything he could need in order to win. Because to her, Link and Hyrule surviving is a must. She sacrifices herself to ensure that.
And yet. . . Link is determined to bring her back. Hyrule won’t be the home they’ve worked so hard to make it so without her. He can’t quit until they find a way to revert her back. So when Rauru and Sonia channel their power through Link, it takes a moment for him to understand by when he does… WHOOH boy does the determination SHINE in his eyes.
And he gets her back. He reaches her. Protects her just as she did for him in the form of restoring the Master Sword. And she immediately rambles.
We don’t get to see Link’s reaction to any of this. But then we end with “Link, I’m home” and a SMILE. Because that’s all Link wants. For Zelda to be safe and smiling.
Ultimately, they just want to be home. And home is with the other.
#just some late night thought about zelink#zelink#botw zelink#loz botw#botw#link botw#botw link#the legend of zelda#zelda botw#zelink botw#the legend of zelda breath of the wild#totk zelink#loz totk spoilers#loz totk#loz tears of the kingdom#loz tears of the kingdom spoilers
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Could you write a oneshot about Loki and a powerful witch with many manipulation abilities? plzzz
I wasn't sure if you wanted spice or plot, so I got both. Hope you like it!
“All Mine”
As the last witch of your small nomadic village, it is up to you to protect your people and your magic. When a lost Prince stumbles into your midst, it is up to you to get the information out of him that you need to keep your people safe. Of course, such a task comes with perks…
Pairing: Sub!Loki x Dom!Reader
Content Warning (18+): spicy parts, descriptions of face-sitting, crotch-grabbing, bound & gagged Loki, Reader might be a little bit chaotic evil, Non-to-Dub!Con on Loki’s part
Word Count: 1.3k
“Please, I tell you I was only lost on a hunt!”
You grinned as you circled the Prince, kneeling on the ground, chained at the ankles and wrists. The poor young god had stumbled into your tribe’s encampment: the first noble of Asgard to ever uncover one of your hidden locations.
You and your people held forbidden secrets: secrets that Odin had declared illegal for the peasantry many ages ago. Not about to surrender your clan’s rare talents, your people chose to wander around the borders of the Realm, always practicing your magic, always keeping on guard, never leaving survivors, were one to discover the tribe. Yet, over time, the fears of discovery and execution suppressed the magic in your families, until only you remained as the sole magic-user.
Of all creatures to uncover your camp, Loki Odinson was one of the worst. Surely, he would run right home and tell his warrior brother and dictator father of your whereabouts: inevitably leading to your beheading.
Not if you had any say. You had him in your possession, and you knew exactly what to do with the snipe.
“I don’t believe you,” you replied, throwing out your hand and twisting your fingers. The result was Loki’s head being thrust forward into a deep bow, his hair hanging in his face. “The elk don’t run this time of year, and that’s all these lands are any good for.”
Loki struggled against his magical and metal bonds, letting out several small grunts and moans as he realized he was utterly subdued. “I can offer you a great reward for releasing me!” he tried next.
You almost laughed at the pathetic little man. Handsome as he was, the way he trembled and feared you was the true attraction for you. I should have stripped him first, you thought, and humiliated him into submission.
You continued circling your prey as he shuddered humbly under you, daring to look up only once in a while. Using your manipulation, you raised his chin so that he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. “I want you to gaze up into the face of the one your father couldn’t chase away.”
His back artificially straightened. His thighs parted. You took note as you continued to dominate your prisoner. “I am stronger than you, Prince Loki, and you will be my plaything until I either get bored of you and kill you, or cut out your tongue and send you home, mute as a portrait.”
His eyes widened, and a tear of fear poked at the corner of his icy eyes. “I beg you, I was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time--”
--silence!” you barked, twisting your index finger, ripping a long piece of cloth from Loki’s tunic and binding it over his mouth. “Ah, that’s much better. A gag is a good look for you, as I’m sure it would be for any of your damned privileged ilk. I’m sick of all of your pretty, spoiled simpers pretending half of the Realm isn’t on the brink of genocide. All your mouths are good for in the end is sucking cunt.”
You chuckled under your breath at the thought of you perhaps straddling Loki’s face and sitting on his lips, refusing to give him breath until he drank your arousal and sent you writhing.
“I think I’m going to fuck you,” you said evilly. “But not before I play a bit more with you first. Tenderize the meat, as it were!”
Flicking your wrists, Loki’s body was brought to its feet. His eyes batted from behind the hair still in his face. You took a long, quiet moment to brush the tendrils away from his face with a long fingernail, taking time to drag the tips delicately along his brow. He was taller than you, but even so, you were the one in power here, and every cell of his body knew and accepted it.
“Pretty, pretty boy…” you began chanting under your breath with a childlike manner, almost like a madwoman. “Pretty toy…”
Loki’s head bent down, but behind his gag you swore you could see the edges of a smile peek above the fabric. Did he think he was fortunate to come across a mad, sexually-charged witch in the forest?”
“Why…my Loki…I do believe you’ve sought me out.” You said, your eyebrow raised in challenge. “You’ve painted a story in my mind. Do you wish to know what I think brought you here, silly Prince?”
Without waiting for any sort of indicator, you walked behind him, placing one hand on his shoulder, the other on his waist. With a snap, you were able to heighten yourself so that you could easily whisper into his ear. “Listen well, because I can see your history…you little royals are born to breed, aren’t you? From childhood, you’re instructed to keep your sexual purity, so that when the time comes, some simpering little princess can be filled with your pure, perfect seed, yes?”
Loki whimpered under his gag as you began running your long, lithe fingers across his neck, stroking the tender skin at the base of his throat with the edge of your nails. Meanwhile, your other hand took a slower time revealing its nefarious purpose…it crept downward over Loki’s hip toward his throbbing cock, pressed against his leather codpiece.
“But,” you continued, “every youth gets ideas…gets curious. Perhaps one night you caught one of the maids rutting with a guard, or some strapping soldier’s tights were a bit too snug in the ass that you couldn’t help but notice…either way…you had to relieve yourself, didn’t you? You were trained in self-control in every way but one…”
You grabbed Loki’s erection through his codpiece, squeezing so hard Loki nearly doubled over, a groan rolling from his sealed lips. His ass thrust backward into your hip, and you tighten your grip on Loki’s muscular throat.
“...which is why you sought out the rumored witch of the southern nomadic tribe, a magicked woman of great beauty and even greater talent. Surely she would satisfy your silly virgin fantasies.” You finally slipped your fingers under the waist of his leggings. Loki’s eyes rolled back into their sockets. If only he could thank the Norns…
“I’ll tell you what,” you said quietly, licking Loki’s earlobe and nipping it with your front teeth. “You’re young, handsome, and all mine. You come to see me every week until you are married off and get a cock-sheath of your own, and I will keep you alive.”
You kept your one hand cupped around Loki’s strained, needy dick, and used the other to magic away the cloth keeping him quiet. “Do we have a deal?” you asked. “And I should tell you, striking a bargain with a witch and then reneging on it is instant death. No telling your Daddy about our little tryst. Understand?”
Loki’s words had your cunt flowing with arousal. “Yes, my Mistress. I agree.”
“Ah!” you said, pleased. “That’s a good Prince, now!”
“I am all yours, Mistress. Please use me to your pleasure,” Loki said, his voice light and low. He had the momentary audacity to wink, making you snicker.
“Oh, I will have to work hard to train you properly, but we have such a long time to polish and perfect you, Loki. You were right about one thing…you are mine.”
Withdrawing all hands and moving to the front, you quickly jerked Loki’s face down to meet yours by pulling on his hair. You slipped your tongue between his lips and practically drank in his energy through your kiss.
When you parted, you kept your hands on his hair, looking at your new little friend and deciding what to do with him first.
“Now, I believe I said something about sucking cunt just now…”
@anukulee @foxherder @fictive-sl0th @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @muddyorbsblr @meowmeow-motherfucker @mochie85 @glitchquake @gruftiela @joyful-enchantress @divine-knight-hand
#loki#fanfiction#mcu#mcu loki#loki x reader#loki fanfiction#mcu fanfiction#loki laufeyson#loki/reader#sub!loki#dom!reader#interrogation#interrogation kink#reader is a witch
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Irish
(soft season 6 ficlet)
Kara knew something was wrong.
Not dangerous wrong. Lena’s heart rate was steady and calm, and there was no one else in the apartment with her. But as Kara flew above the few buildings left to her apartment, she could see how Lena was hunched over, see the stress and sadness in her body. And it made Kara’s heart ache.
Landing in the open window, Kara stepped inside, the small taps alerting Lena to her entrance. “Kara,” Lena said, trying to hide the distress on her face as she rose from the couch, grabbing at VHS tapes spread in front of the TV. “You’re home early.”
“They put out the fire before I got there,” Kara said softly. “The winds weren’t as bad as they thought.”
Lena nodded, hurriedly placing the pile of tapes into a familiar box. Kara had flown the box back to National City herself - one of the many artifacts carried over from Lena’s mother’s home, which Lena inherited at the age of 18. Lena had only gone once or twice as an adult, until the discovery of her magic made her curious to reconnect to what she could of her mother. “Are you okay?” Kara asked.
“I’m fine,” Lena said.
“Lena.” Kara stepped forward, kneeling on the rug, gently taking Lena’s busy hands into her own. “Lena, I’m here.”
Lena paused, leaving the remaining tapes next to the TV, taking a slow breath as she dropped back to sit on the floorboards instead. “I just didn’t expect to feel this way.”
“Feel what way?”
Lena stared down at the floor, not quite ready to look Kara in the eye. “I was so young. There’s so much I don’t remember.”
Kara took a seat in front of her, still holding Lena’s hands. She waited patiently - silent, and comforting, letting Lena take her time to think or talk as she wished.
“In one of the tapes,” Lena said, her voice a touch deeper than normal, “She sang an Irish lullaby. I haven’t heard it in decades. The melody slammed back into me.”
“I’m sure it was lovely,” Kara said.
“She spoke to me. In Irish. She spoke to me, and I didn’t understand what she was saying,” Lena said, frustrated. “And in the tape, I spoke back, and I didn’t understand what I was saying. It’s all gone.”
And that’s when Kara stiffened, a bolt of lightning running through her as she understood. It was different in her case, of course - she had once thought herself the last to speak a language, carrying a dead culture in her soul. Through sheer luck, she was able to get her father, her mother, her people back - but the feeling of being orphaned, she understood, if in a different way than Lena. “The Luthors don’t speak Irish,” Kara replied.
“Language attrition is common in children who stop speaking their first language before the age of 12,” Lena said softly, in a tone that made Kara realize that Lena must’ve read about this a dozen times before. “I didn’t know what I was losing until it was too late.”
“Lena,” Kara said, leaning forward to give the brunette a hug. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know it sounds so silly,” Lena said. “It’s not like I have much need to speak Irish.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t mourn what you’ve lost,” Kara said, thinking back to a million conversations she’d had with Kelly about her own traumas, even if later they were reversed by fate. “You can still be sad about it.”
Lena sighed, melting into Kara’s arms, and Kara felt relieved. They sat, wrapped in each other’s embrace and breathing in the peace of the evening, Kara rubbing gently at Lena’s back until Lena was ready. “Well, I can put the rest of this away,” Lena said, pulling back, her voice steady for the first time that evening. “We can start cooking dinner.”
Kara nodded, watching as Lena gazed back - a bit mournful, a bit sad, but a certain lightness compared to before. “If it helps,” Kara said gently, with one last thought, “I can learn Irish with you? It may not be like before, but sometimes getting some of the pieces back can mean something.”
Lena looked at her for a moment, before smiling. “I’d like that.”
#I have been trying to draft this all weekend and it kept coming out awful and I kept deleting#and then this spilled out of me in about 20 minutes#definitely projecting here. I was bullied out of my first language.#anyway#is this hurt/comfort? I still don't quite know what that is#supercorp#supercorp fic#supercorp ficlet#mel writes ficlets
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What is your NUMBER ONE headcannon for each person in the Gaang (Katara, Zuko, Aang, Toph, Sokka, Suki [and Appa and Momo if you feel so inclined])
Katara: After the war, she goes back to the NWT to train with Yugoda and becomes a master healer as well as a master of the NWT fighting style. From there, she goes back to the Foggy Swamp Tribe and masters their bending style, too. With the help of Sokka, Zuko, and (in some headcanons) Hama, she also rediscovers SWT waterbending and not only masters it, but teaches it to the new benders in the SWT. By the time she leaves the SWT, there has been a school established where all bending styles are available for study. She's one of the few who actually has mastered them all, though.
Sokka: He is eager to return home after the war. He throws himself into infrastructure and policy revamps, and he almost singlehandedly staves off the soft colonization attempts of the NWT. Under his efforts, the SWT rebuilds and reestablishes parts of its culture that had been lost during the war. With the discovery of oil on SWT land, he is also instrumental in establishing eco minded extraction techniques, and in trade ties with the rest of the world (although he is very much helped by his sister's deep ties with the Fire Lord). It's a surprise to no one when he's chosen to lead the SWT after Hakoda retires.
Toph: She does not become a cop. Instead, she goes back home and takes over the Earth Rumble, taking it from an underground even to a world wide phenomenon. She eventually allows benders of other elements to join, and the Earth Rumble becomes pro bending. She does also establish a metal bending school. In the end, she is wealthier than her parents, but because she couldn't really care less about money, she keeps enough to live at the standard she wants, and gives the rest away to causes that interest her...like the guy who wanted to set the record for the biggest bao bun ever, and needed funding for an oven big enough to cook it. She also establishes a halfway house for runaway teens.
Zuko: During his tenure as Fire Lord, he establishes a robust social services program that includes subsidized healthcare, education, and housing for the lowest income families. Under his reign, the Fire Nation becomes home to some of the earliest pioneers of mental health. At his wife's advice, he also makes paid maternity leave standard across the nation, and includes several programs to help single parents stay afloat. Taking inspiration from the SWT, Zuko makes some changes to how his advisory staff is selected. Instead of choosing from among the nobility, Zuko has the different provinces elect a representative to speak on their behalf. A lot of the nobles hate this, blaming his wife's influence, but the people adore their monarchs and despite their best efforts, there's little the nobles can do except start campaigning in their home provinces. It's not a perfect system, but it does open the door for the Fire Nation to end the monarchy within a couple of generations.
Suki: She continues to lead the Kyoshi Warriors for a few years after the war. She also helps train troops around the world as they pivot from active war service to more local work. She helps establish something like the coast guards for several different countries. Eventually she retires from that to help her husband run the SWT. She and Sokka make a wonderful team as he handles the domestic policies and she handles foreign affairs. She often jokes with her sister in law, Fire Lady Katara that they ended up with the same job.
Aang: I'll go with my most optimistic headcanon for him. He's an okay Avatar. Not great. Not the worst. After the war, he tries to take part in rebuilding efforts around the world, but he finds his help isn't needed much. He turns his attention back to salvaging what's left of the Air Nomad legacy, and discovers that there are actually airbenders still around. A few of them are even interested in learning to live like the Air Nomads. Many of them aren't, though, and after learning how to actually use their powers, they go off and do their own thing. To Aang's shock and dismay, eating meat has no effect on the strength of their bending, He does learn to deal with it and enjoy his time with the air benders who embrace the Air Nomad culture. He does go on to have kids, and he still favors the benders over the nonbenders. Ultimately, his legacy as Avatar boils down to taking Ozai's bending, and that's it.
#atla#headcanons#katara#sokka#toph#suki#aang#anti kataang#zutara#sukka#katara has a statue#she also has hospitals and libraries and schools named for her
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Danny at the tender age of 23, has had a bad month. He had just lost his job as an interpreter with his company due to rejecting the advances of one of the older female bosses and his landlord was trying to screw him over on rent.
It honestly surprised him when he woke up one day with his wrists bound in front of him and trapped in a tube. He had been out of the hero game since the portals closed up years ago and Vlad lost his powers, so it had been a while since the whole "kidnapping" thing had happened to him.
He looked out through the glass of the tube as he turned intangible to let the IV needles fall out of his arms. There luckly wasn't any glowing green goo in the tube with him, but he doubts it will stay that way long as the scientists outside his containment chatted happily about "the discovery of the decade!" Ick.
He waits till they're gone before turning intangible slipping out of his tube and heading straight for the computer. He knew how to hack, but he was low on time and needed to know exactly what was going on, so some ghostly meddling with electronics were necessary. Sorry Tuck.
It was at this moment he found out several things.
1. Danny had apparently been here for several months instead of the few days he had initially assumed
2. He was found somewhere in his own thermos, asleep. Luckily they haven't been able to replicate any technology from it.
3. Superheros were a very real thing now. How long had he been asleep?
4. He had been cloned. Again. But this time he had someone else's DNA mixed in with the clones to make them more stable and intelligent. Some guy named Red Robin. Huh. Was that his real name or...?
Danny took a deep breath before locating his new clone kids. Ellie would be thrilled...if she was still around that is. He could think about that later, right now he had to grab his babies-and oh ancients- they were babies! The oldest of the three looked four years old at most and the youngest looked only a few hours. He was still all pink and alien looking.
Luckily his children didn't fight him when he picked them up and flew through the walls with them. He made a mental note to teach them stranger danger when he came across a large red button.
You won't believe what it was labeled as. Yep. A self destruct button. How cliché. Whatever. He pushed it and sirens immediately started to go off and he continued flying them through walls before exited into a dark gothic city he knew Sam would immediately love.
Somehow he managed to immediately land a job as a linguist for Wayne tech. Probably thanks to the three small kids he had and the panicked look on his face. Bruce was a really chill dude.
Batman however, was a prick. He met the guy weeks after his run in with Bruce and he kept popping up after he found out the clone babies were partially from one of his birds and trying to take custody away from him or convince him to give them up. Danny retaliated by spreading the rumor/truth that his kids where Red Robins from creepy cloning scientists that kidnapped him before immediately moving out of Gotham and into Fawcett City to work for a competitors company. This way Red couldn't legally go after him for custody without revealing his identity :)
This is how Red Robin, at the tender age of 25, learned he had kids with a man named Daniel Nightengale. Not only that, Bruce knew about them and didn't tell him.
Danny made it clear that if any of the Gotham Rouges tried to follow him and harm his kids they would come back missing a hand. Joker found out the hard way that he wasn't bluffing.
Shazams old guy mentor almost has an aneurysm when he senses the freaking GHOST KING living in Fawcett. Danny is also much more powerful then ever before and accidentally made the power go out in half the city when he got truly angry with Batman.
#fanfiction prompts#prompts#danny phantom#danny fenton#dp x dc#time drake#red robin#poor tim#the nightengale idea wasnt mine#but i love it and believe it should be the fentons go to for identity problems#tim wants to meet his kids#danny is superdad#ever listened to Mr. mom?#danny is the mom from that song and i fully support him#the batfam all lose thier minds#shazam doesnt know what to think of danny#danny is worlds best dad#long post
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Taking a bath with him
✧ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: dan heng is so cute help
✧ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: dan heng
✧ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: safe and sound — taylor swift
✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: non-sexual nudity
Listen Dan Heng is so unpredictable when it comes to this stuff. Sometimes you think he enjoys affection but doesn't crave it and then he texts you out of the blue to come to the archives and leaves you on read after that. You rush over there, wondering whether he found something shocking in the data bank and as soon as you enter the room he's in your arms, snuggling up to you.
"What's gotten into you?", you chuckle and hold the back of his head. Dan Heng nuzzles your neck. "I wanted to try and sleep soon... I thought it might be easier with you around..."
It wasn't the first time you had stayed over in your boyfriend's room, so you understood that your comfort eased Dan Heng's nightmares a little. But it was the first time he suggested you join him for a bath. He told you he was planning to do that anyway and that you're welcome to join him if you'd like.
Gets a little flustered at first, but smiles happily once you're in his arms in the warm water, closing your eyes and resting against his shoulder.
He shakes his head in disappointment when you try to put some of the bubbles from the bath on his head. "What's this supposed to be when you're done?", he gives you an amused smile and raises an eyebrow.
He'd tell you about his newest discoveries in the archives. With time, you had learnt that the reason he loves books so much was that they were the only thing that brought him a bit of joy during his years in the Shackling Prison; and they had become a constant in his life, so you were more than happy to share this passion with him and hear all about his work on the Express.
He has such a soothing voice and the warmth of the bath is so comforting that you fall asleep against his shoulder and Dan Heng doesn't notice until he's done with his rambles about that one creature he wanted to observe. "By the way, what was up with 'just wanna observe Dan Heng in the water'?", he raises an eyebrow, "though, I suppose you got your wish today, huh?" He chuckles and turns his head towards you only to find you sound asleep against him. "Oh-", he whispers but smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead.
He lets you rest there for a while, running his fingertips up and down your arm, before he gets up, careful not to wake you, and lifts you out of the bathtub. He dries you off gently and if you wake up he tells you not to worry about it. "Rest", he whispers and presses a soft kiss to your lips, "I'll handle everything."
He gives you one of his shirts that you manage to put on in your drowsy state, mumbling something about wanting Dan Heng to cuddle you as he drains the water in the tub and puts away the towels.
He actually hurries up for you. He slides under the covers of his bed in the archives and pulls you close, feeling you nuzzle into his chest and relax into the warmth of his embrace.
"I love you", he whispers when you've already entered the land of dreams again. Dan Heng loves how cozy it feels to hold you in his arms like this after a warm, relaxing bath. He makes a note in his mind that he should do this more often.
#dan heng x reader#dan heng#dan heng x you#dan heng x y/n#dan heng x gender neutral reader#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#hsr#honkai star rail
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Out of the Mountain
Rhysand X Reader
Summary: It has been 50 long years since you last saw the man you love. With Amarantha's tyrannous rule finally at an end, Rhysand returns to Velaris. Only he's not the same male as he was when he left and with the discovery of his newfound bond with Prythian's saviour, it's time to learn the true meaning of letting someone you love go free.
Warnings: Angst and sadness :(
You were the last to hear the good news. Amarantha was dead. Prythian had been freed by a woman from the mortal lands. Rhysand had been freed.
It had been fifty torturously long years since you last looked into your love's violet eyes. Fifty years since you last felt his comforting embrace, since the promise of seeing you soon left his tender lips before he winnowed away, never to be seen again. Until now.
It had been agony. Trapped in the hidden paradise of Velaris, unable to go and help your love, never knowing how he was faring in the depths of that wretched mountain. Spending each tedious day wondering if the male was thinking about you just as much as you were him.
You were convinced you were dreaming when Mor showed up at your door. A crooked smile on her face as she told you it was over, that her cousin had finally returned, that he was safe in the proximity of his court once more. But her dark eyes told a different story, one of bleak suffering and heart-wrenching sorrows. That Rhysand had returned, but he was not the same man who had left.
This you had anticipated. You had always suspected that if Rhysand was fortunate enough to return, to leave the mountain with his life intact, that he would no doubt be baring the scars, both mental and physical, of his years entrapped in the soul-sucking caverns.
It took you an hour to compose yourself, to allow the tears you didn't want the male to see run dry. Tears born from both the joy of his return home and the fear of what you were about to witness. The thought alone of someone you love being in pain felt like a treacherous stab to the gut.
Once you were ready, with watery eyes and a sniffling nose, you made your way towards his room, to where Mor said he had escaped to. To where he was waiting for you.
You inhale deeply, attempting to quell your tears at the sight of his door. At what was once your door too before you found yourself unable to sleep in the room without him during his absence. The haunting smell of citrus and night-blooming jasmine was enough to make you feel nauseated, the thought of you being safe in his bed while he laid trapped in another was too overwhelming.
And so, for the first time in fifty years you found yourself pushing open the heavy wooden doors, eyes scanning the inside of the room for the familiar sight of your love.
"Rhys?" you called tentatively, stepping inside and drawing the doors to behind you. Moving further into his room before noticing the shadowy figure standing on the balcony outside.
"Rhysand?" you repeated his name, fearful of startling him, not knowing just how deep trauma’s grip on him was.
The male turned to face you as you glided through the glass doors to join him outside. The cooling, fresh breeze of night kissing your cheeks, helping some in quelling the rising wave of anxiety inside you that began to swell after Mor's appearance.
"Hello love" Rhys cracked a small smile as you cautiously walked until you were next to him, standing on the edge of the balcony as you overlooked the glistening city below.
You made to hug him, but stopped yourself, afraid to be the one to initiate contact, just in case the action was too much for him for handle.
The male sealed the distance for you, pulling you into a warm embrace as you wrapped you arms around him in turn. Nose pressed deeply into his chest as you absorbed his smell, exactly half a century and that hadn't changed at all.
You must have stayed in his hold for almost ten minutes. A few pearlescent tears being shed between the pair of you, but otherwise you stood in silence. Senses consuming every bit of him they possibly could.
It was Rhysand who pulled away first, arms falling from you as he instead moved to rest them on the edge of the balcony, you following suit as you placed yours beside his on the stone.
"I suppose we better talk" he said with a melancholic sadness, violet eyes unmoving from the city below.
A simple yes was all you could respond.
A few somber minutes passed before Rhys spoke again, his eyes now moving from the scene below to watch you next to him. "I missed you" he said the words you had longed to hear. The three words that told you he had thought of you just as you had him. But instead of the yearning in his voice that you had dreamt of hearing, there was only sadness.
"I missed you to Rhysand" you confessed, "I was so mad at you. For the wards you placed. I would have come running right after you if they didn't stop me from leaving."
"I know...I know" he flashed you a pitiful attempt of an appreciative smile, "That's one of the reasons I had to do it."
"It's really over?" you asked seeking reassurance, needing to hear that he was really here to stay.
"It's over" he confirmed, moving his supportive hand over yours on the cold stone of the balcony, "I'm not going anywhere."
Releasing a sigh of relief, you allowed your tense body to relax slightly. Hearing the words from his own lips were the only confirmation you needed. "Your back" you allowed the slither of a smile to cross you face as you said this, allowing yourself to momentarily celebrate the return of the man you love. The one you're hoping still loves you.
"I'm not the same" he stated, that ever-present sorrow still pouring from his shaky voice.
"No one expects you to be Rhys"
And it was true. Not a single one of you expected your laughing, carefree Rhysand to be the one who escaped from the mountain, the shadow of the man he used to be will always remain deep in the tunnels of Amarantha's stone cage. But there was always the hope that with time, with the love of his family, you may be able to draw the light out of the shell of the man before you.
But now, standing on the balcony next to him, you weren't too sure. A dreadful realization of truth burning in your chest, you would not be the one to mend Rhysand. To pick up the pieces and lovingly sew them back together for him. No, his expression told you that much.
"I found my mate."
There it was. The cursed words that you felt hovering in the air the moment you were in his presence. The truth that hid in his sorrowful face when you first saw him, the darkness that found it's home in Mor's eyes at your door.
There was always the possibility that he would have moved on in the years you were apart, perhaps needing a crutch to get him through his darkest hours. You had just prayed that the Mother was gracious enough not to allow it to be so. But it appears the cauldron had already made that decision for her.
"What's she like?" you asked, swallowing your sob, allowing the nip of the chill in the air to distract you from the pain you felt inside.
"Beautiful" he said wistfully, eyes turning to the stars that were dancing above you, "Stubborn, determined. In love with another male." His words turned to venom as he spat the last statement from his lips.
"Does she know?" you questioned, unable to stop your curiosity from seeking the answers you desired. Maybe...maybe if she knew and she were in love with another man there was still the chance this wasn't over. That this conversation was just the confession of a hurdle Rhys needed to leap over before you could truly be together again.
"No" he answered simply, jaws locking as he refused to tear his eyes from the stars which he had no doubt missed in his time under the mountain.
"Oh" was your response, unsure of what else to say to the male.
Rhys released a deep sigh as he squeezed your hand with his, you could tell he was trying to find the words he needed to say.
Taking the initiative you said them for him.
"We never had a chance did we?"
His thoughtful eyes searched your dejected ones, eyebrows knitted together as he spoke carefully, "I think we did. A long time ago. But a lot can change in fifty years...a lot has."
You nodded along with his words, a silver tear slipping down your cheek as it was your turn to cast your watery gaze to the sky in order to avoid Rhys's penetrating eyes.
"We were fun weren't we"
A sad laugh tore from your lips as you spoke. Your vision, which was locked on one singular bright star in the sky, began to blur.
"Yeah, we were" Rhys smiled softly, once more squeezing your hand in comfort, "We've shared some great memories."
"It's just time to make our own...separately" you mournfully stated, drawing your hand from his to wrap your arms around yourself, trying to protect yourself from the increasingly colder chill which was settling in your bones.
"Separately" he confirmed, "...You'll always be my what if. But this, whatever this is, I have to chase it."
The tears now flowed freely, liquid moonlight running down your shaking cheeks as you struggled to stay in control of your cries, "I hope you get your happy ending Rhysand. I really do. I can't think of anyone who deserves it more."
His violet eyes flashed with pain, lip trembling as he replied, "you too my love. I wish you everything and more."
#acotar#fanfic#acotar imagine#sarah j maas#rhysand#rhysand x reader#rhysand imagine#rhysand acotar#a court of thorns and roses#rhysand angst#rhysand fanfic
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Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series - Chapter 10
Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.
Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.
And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?
Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude
Chapter word count: 8.9k
SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻
Chapter notes: Frankie and Jude make new discoveries on the island, and they have their date. Mentions of suicide.
Enjoy! 🖤
Chapter 9
“AH FUCK!” Frankie yells loudly, and Jude turns, startled, in the water with her spear to see Frankie scramble up onto the rocks like a crab scurrying away from a would-be predator.
“What happened?” She calls out to him, bewildered.
“Careful!” He holds his palm up and she stops dead in the water. “I just stepped on a fuckin’ urchin!” He lifts his foot up and black spines are poking out from the heel of his foot.
“Shit,” she wades closer to him, looking into the water in the bay to make sure she doesn’t make contact with any urchins herself. “You okay?”
He’d been scouring the rock pools for anything edible whilst she fished, when he’d yelled out, and now he winces as he starts to pull the needles from his foot.
“Fuckin’ shit!” Frankie grunts through angry lips curled back over his teeth. “Vamos, cabrones!” (Come on you little bastards!)
“Let me do it,” Jude persuades, and he pushes his foot out to her and rests back on his elbows; his head thrown back and groaning with pain.
She tries not to let her eyes wander over the leanness of his bronzed body as he stretches back, clad only in shorts and his cap. But her eyes betray her anyway and take in the wet sheen over his skin from the waist down.
Clearing her throat, Jude pulls a couple of spines out that she can grip with her fingers, but there’s a few that are embedded too deeply into his skin that she can’t pinch a solid grip onto.
“I need the tweezers to get these out; you think you can make it back with me?”
“Yeah.” He puffs through gritted teeth.
“Lean on me for support; don’t walk on your heel, they’ll get embedded further into your skin and we’ll never get them out.” She advises.
Frankie nods as he slips off the rock, puts his arm around her shoulder and she leads him back to the shack slowly. His weight against her is heavy, but nothing she can’t manage, walking with him slowly as he hops beside her practically.
She smiles to herself at his unfortunate plight, despite the pain he’s in, she can’t help but find it somewhat amusing.
“This isn’t funny, it fuckin’ kills.” Frankie says, trying not to smirk at her too.
“It’s a little funny.” Jude replies, holding onto him. His skin feels smooth against her arm, and this close the scent of brine and sweat fills her nose.
They’re hobbling through the wooded area that separates both sides of the island, when they hear a snapping noise.
They both freeze on the spot.
“Did you hear that?” Frankie asks her, looking furtively and listening like a guard dog on high alert. They stay still for a moment, Frankie balancing on one leg like a flamingo.
They hear more rustling and then a low pitched screech.
“What the hell is that?” Jude asks, astonished. They haven’t heard or seen any animals on the island since they crash landed, so the noise is somewhat disconcerting.
“Sounds like dinner,” Frankie says, smirking down at her. “We can check it out later.”
Jude nods smiling and continues to walk with him. Once inside the shack he throws himself down on the cushion bed, and she sets to work on removing the remaining urchin spines from his foot with the tweezers.
“Lucky we have these. Hold still.”
“Thank you, nurse” Frankie says, as he inspects his foot afterwards. It looks all bloody and sore with tiny pin prick holes dotted around in a cluster on his heel.
“Lots of bed rest and fluids.” She remarks with a wink and he chuckles.
Frankie watches with a relaxed smile as she wraps his foot carefully in a damp t-shirt to alleviate some of the heated throbbing. “Are you excited about our date tonight?” He asks her.
“Depends,” she replies coyly.
“On what?” Frankie asks her with a curious smirk.
“On what you have in mind.”
“A gentleman never tells.” He makes the zipped lips motion with his fingers across his lips.
“I hope you are a gentleman.” Jude remarks with a tight smirk.
“Of course,” he confirms. “I won’t try anything funny, I promise.”
“Good, because I never fuck a guy on the first date,” she smiles through heated cheeks.
“Self-respect is hot.” Frankie grins.
She smiles at him and pats the side of his calf. “Rest up; I’ll go back and get the fish.”
Wandering out of the shack, Jude thinks about their impending date night and wonders what it is exactly she expects from him and that he has planned. How gentlemanly will he be exactly? I hope he at least kisses me... The thought makes her hot.
It’s evidently something she’s thought about and considered regularly as of late. It’s not hard to notice how smiley and flirty they’ve gotten with one another. Frankie feels easy to talk to and she enjoys his company greatly.
And equally it’s something that excites her more and more; much like the thought of him watching her on the ridge as she got herself off, thinking about him doing the same in turn. It’s kinda hard not to, let’s face it; he’s utterly gorgeous. She can only wonder why they haven't given in to temptation yet and pounced on one another. Laying side by side on the cushion bed each night tests their resolve further.
But she knows he's being respectful, and she's thankful for that. She could've been left trapped on this island with a complete creepy letch instead of Frankie.
Jude ventures back to the bay to collect the fish, but when she approaches the tin she’s dismayed to find most of the fish they’d collected that morning are mysteriously gone.
“What the fuck?”
Jude begins looking around and spots tiny footprints criss-crossing around in the sand. She scouts through the trees on the way back to the shack, trying to listen for that screeching noise again; the probable thief that has stolen their dinner, but is unable to track it or hear it.
She explains to Frankie what’s happened and he chuckles, standing up and limping a little towards her.
“We can wait, you know, until it’s easier for you to walk.” Jude says, watching as he frowns each time he puts pressure on his foot.
“No way. I’m taking you on a date tonight. Besides, I wanna get that fucker who stole our food.” He retorts, reaching for a spear. “You in?”
“Try and stop me.” She replies, smiling at him with determination.
“¡Esa es mi chica!” Frankie winks at her. (That’s my girl!)
It’s much cooler in the afternoon as they venture out slowly into the wooded area of the island. A reprieve from the scorching hot sun they’ve endured as of late.
They use the spears to move and poke around in the wispy grasses and bushes of the underbrush, looking for any signs of life. More footprints, droppings... Any evidence of what it is that stole the fish and made that shrill shrieking noise.
A while later they hear it again.
“Weird howling noises in the woods? That’s some straight up horror movie shit right there.” Frankie grits as they push further into the tree line. He limps still and is careful about putting weight on his heel.
“I can see your mangina.” Jude teases him and she hears him chuckle.
There’s a low screech again off to the distance of them. She’s completely unfazed and carries on stepping over stones and reeds towards the sound.
“What do you think it is?” Frankie asks, curiously.
“Sounds like a strangled peacock.” She replies, laughing.
“Maybe a small mammal; or a bird of some kind?” He suggests. “Hopefully something we can eat either way.”
“Well it’s either that or a zombie.” Jude states.
“Very funny, I fuckin’ hate zombies.” He says it like they’re real.
“Who doesn’t like zombies? Come on.”
“They scared me when I was a kid.”
“For real?” Jude asks, smiling.
“Yeah. The first time I ever saw a zombie was when I was seven years-old, and my cousin made me stay up and watch Dawn of the Dead. I didn’t sleep for weeks and the slightest creak in my room would set me off. Él era un cabrón.” (He was a bastard.)
“You’re perfectly safe, they only eat brains.” She turns and pokes her tongue out at him and he can’t help but smirk at her.
“You’re on real form today.” Frankie mocks. “And look, you’re in a white tank top too.” He says as he notices her top.
He can see the black bikini straps poking out around her shoulders and he drifts momentarily back to the image of her spear fishing in the bay with him this morning whilst he stole covert glances at her body all wet in it.
“What are you talking about?”
“Your tank top; it’s white.” Frankie says to her, moving drooping vines and leaves out of his way as they walk through them. “The heroine in all good horror movies always wears a white tank top, you ever notice that?” He confirms to her.
“We're not in a horror movie.” She giggles. “Besides, so does Bruce Willis. Yippee Ki-Yay, motherfucker.”
“You won’t be saying that when I’m dead with my entrails hanging out, and you’re fuckin' screaming and running for your life, unknowingly straight into the arms of a machete wielding maniac, after falling over a branch or two first, making the audience genuinely believe you actually have a chance to get away, and then… BAM!”
Jude jumps when he over emphasises the bam part loudly by punching his own open palm.
“You’ve thought way too much about this.” Jude laughs and carries on.
“Remind me again why I’m risking my life for you?” Frankie says, very deadpan.
“Because I rock. And plus you need me, hop-a-long,” she pushes him gently, and he stumbles and falls backwards on his butt onto a grassy knoll. She can’t help but laugh loudly and unrestrained.
"Oh my God!" She howls.
“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” He laughs at her, astonished and in awe at how freely she’s snorting in between unguarded giggles.
“I’m sorry,” she reaches her hand out to him and helps him back up, her body quaking with laughter and he can't help but to laugh too.
“Oh, my revenge is gonna be sweet, hermosa. Just you wait.” Frankie surmises to her with a side grin, his cheeks flashing a shade of embarrassment.
“Promises, promises...” Jude titters as they carry on.
They hear the screeching noise again, only this time it seems louder and they stop, listening out. Frankie turns his head and Jude’s eyes scan the trees.
The screech comes again and Frankie jumps a little “Shit,” he sighs out.
“I’ll never be able to count on you in a scary situation, will I?” She asks him, smirking.
“Hell no. I’ll offer you up as bait in exchange for my life any time.”
“Pussy.” Jude remarks and he looks down at her with a pink smirk breaking out his lips. She wonders instantly what those lips will feel like on her own.
“Monkey.” Frankie says, looking at her.
“Are you calling me a damn monkey?” She asks with a giggle, and feigning appal at his choice of friendly insult. “That’s not very creative.”
“No,” he shakes his head. “Look...” He points just past her head and she turns. “Up there, in the tree - it’s a monkey.” Frankie whispers.
Her eyes scan as Frankie steps beside her and gazes up at the tree tops. There’s a little brown monkey sitting in the tree branches, almost entirely camouflage, and watching them back with wide yellow eyes.
“He’s so small,” Jude says in wonderment. “Maybe a capuchin or something?”
Frankie shrugs. “I dunno.”
“He looks cute. I’m going to call him Egon.”
“Egon?”
“Yep. He’s clearly a Ghostbuster, don’t you think?” Jude asks. “I reckon he has a Proton Pack hidden somewhere around here.”
They both snicker and watch as the small ape sits in the tree and screeches again as though he’s trying to communicate with them; trying to tell them that he enjoyed eating their fish.
“I don’t think I can eat a monkey,” she puts to Frankie quietly, feeling a little sad.
“Me either, especially now that you’ve fuckin’ named him.” He laughs gently, rolling his eyes. He takes off his cap and runs his hand through his curled, oily locks.
“How did he even get here?” She asks, watching the monkey as it pulls at a leaf on the tree.
“Maybe it’s native?”
“No, there would be more of them, surely.”
“Who says there isn’t?” Frankie asks, shrugging. He plonks the cap back on his head and looks around.
“We would've heard them by now, right? I’m surprised he’s been quiet all this time.”
They watch Egon for a while, marvelling and trying to work out how the little creature ended up on the island with them. He watches them back, cocking his head this way and that.
They walk back towards the shack as dusk is falling over the island.
“I wonder if he came here with the person who built the shack originally, like a pet or something?” Jude muses out loud as they walk, or rather Frankie hobbles.
He nods at her detective ramblings, smiling as the darkness begins to fall around them.
When they reach the shack, Frankie holds the plastic open for her as she steps through it. He reaches for some clothes.
“Be back soon,” he smiles at her, lingering in the doorway for a moment.
Whilst he’s gone, she flops down on the cushion bed tired and thinking about the monkey and then her mind drifts towards this evening.
She glances at the notebook on the case as she considers what their date will be like and can feel the tingle in her toes at the thought of it. She absentmindedly reaches for the notebook and takes the opportunity to have a curious look through it whilst Frankie freshens up.
She leafs through the pages gently at what he’s been writing. She’s sure he won’t mind; it’s not like he’s kept it hidden or has explicitly told her not to read it.
It seems at first like it’s just him making a note of the passing days. Little doodles litter in the corners of the pages, like stick men and vortexes where he’s scribbled the pen round and round whilst thinking, tossed on the paper like inky confetti.
She flips a few pages in and there’s some rough sketches of the shack; schematics if you like, of how he’s going to build it, which makes her smile at his methodical planning.
She continues turning the pages and stops when she gets to a paragraph he’s written and reads it slowly. It looks like a poem, maybe a haiku of some kind, but she soon realises it’s an admission:
... We’re probably going to die on this island. Both of us are going to die and I won’t be able to save her... I can’t watch her die. Not when she’s the one keeping me alive.
Jude wipes her eyes, shutting the notebook and instantly cursing herself for snooping.
It’s evident that Frankie doesn’t have any hope at all for them anymore. He had tried convincing her for so long that they would be okay, lulling her into a false sense of security, telling her what she wanted to hear, when inside he truly believed that they wouldn’t make it.
Of course, the day he went catatonic after the boat fiasco, she knew he’d given up the ghost somewhat, but to know he still had no hope for them, even now with their routines, was a tough feat to accept. Unknowingly burdening her with the responsibility for his own life, it seems.
But isn’t that what she’s done to him, too? She relies on him heavily to get her through, even if she never tells him or actively puts that pressure on him, or realises it herself at times. Just him being here with her is the most important thing to her survival; there’s no way she’d have made it this far without him - her life is literally in his giant hands, and evidently his is in hers too.
It’s a tough responsibility to place on someone, right?
Jude mulls it over as she sniffs in deep, desperate to keep the tears away, and understands his inner pain and turmoil because she’s spent so many nights lying beside him as he sleeps wondering, that if he wasn’t here with her - if he had died - that she would probably want to go with him. She won’t be able to cope on her own here. It’s draining being here and massively taking its toll.
Maybe that seems melodramatic in a way; losing all hope after a mere few months on the island, I mean what’s two months? Pah.
But think about it; every day they wake up with severe lack of sleep deprivation because the nightmares and belly cramps from being constantly hungry keep them awake. They drink water, but their thirst is never fully quenched. They eat the same fish every day. Maybe once a day; sometimes a few days pass by without eating them at all. And the fish soon starts to taste putrid; like they can’t even taste that’s its fish anymore. They soon start to loathe putting it in their mouth because why bother? They can’t even taste or enjoy the flavour anymore. They can no longer stomach it to swallow it down.
They try their best to stay clean and healthy, but the sun scorches their epidermis every day doing unseen damage no doubt; the sea salt is a permanent perfume they carry on their skin and hair no matter how much they sweat or try to rinse it off.
Their bare feet are cracked and dry from walking over the sand and rocks daily, the clothes they wear now aren’t even theirs and don’t fit properly. They don’t know who they belonged to, what stories they could tell them from the previous owners who are lying dead at the bottom of the ocean somewhere. They try to stay busy; to fish, to re-light the same damn fire over and over again. To collect water even when it doesn’t rain for days.
They build a recycled shack for shelter, but it’s never really home. They consume so much energy every day to stay alive, yet they’re constantly exhausted, spent and on the verge of collapse. They don’t even know what it is exactly they’re living for anymore. They can’t remember their families’ faces. They wonder if they can remember theirs; that they existed once.
All this happens in a very short space of time; a couple of months pass by since they landed here, and they’re both already, figuratively, standing on the edge of the ridge, looking over it and wondering if today will be the day they find the courage to jump off and just end it all in a bloodied heap at the bottom. Just stop the suffering, the constant fighting to live a life that isn’t a life to live anymore. How can it be?
Secluded. Isolated.
Just Jude and Frankie, barely hanging on to anything, because there’s nothing to hang on to anymore. It’s like they’ve been cast out from the rest of the world for something terrible that they did, but the world won’t tell them what it is they’re being punished for.
They talk together, they laugh together to pass the daunting stream of time suffocating them both. They put on a brave face masking their inner turmoil from one another, even though the other senses it. They crack jokes; Jude looks into his molten brown eyes daily, but inside them there’s nothing and she can see it as clear as the day as the emptiness is reflected in hers back at Frankie.
They’re both hollow husks of their former selves stranded here. Thrust together by some cruel, wicked fate and they can’t comprehend how or why it happened. Why the plane crashed, why they had to be on that fucking plane when it crashed; the series of events in their live that worked in some devious motion to put them here, to test them - to break them. They blame God, they blame kismet; Jude blames that no good bastard Nate.
Is God testing them right now? Have they passed or are they failing miserably and the reward is sweet, lustful death? Welcome oblivion? They’re so tired of this shit; just so fucking tired. When the Grim Reaper comes for them, they won’t resist, they’ll get up and take his skeletal hand willingly.
They’re wasting away, getting thinner; Jude’s hair is getting longer, all hair on her body in fact becomes unruly and un-groomed. Her legs are as hairy as Frankie’s some days. And she doesn’t even want to acknowledge the car crash between her legs. His face begins to disappear from the hair that grows on it and she wonders if she’ll forget his face too as he vanishes underneath it before her eyes.
She stops looking in the little cosmetic mirror because the face that’s looking back at her isn’t hers anymore. She buries the mirror in the sand one day, and a part of her forever gets buried with it.
They’ve changed; this horrid landscape has changed them. It’s not an island paradise in the tropics; the brochure lied - it’s Hell that they’re living in, literal Hell.
Every. Single. Day. Is. Fucking. Hell.
And when she reads those words from the person residing in this Hell with her, Jude can’t help but feel united in a peaceful acceptance with him; because deep down she knows Frankie is right.
Even though she desperately needs him to tell her it’s not true; that it’s not all in vain. That they’re both going to make it like he used to reassure her, and then escape into the sunset together back in the real world.
But it’s all a damn lie. He’s only being honest with her, even if he never says it to her face anymore, but instead via words on crinkled paper he wrote when he had lost all hope; when he was deeply hurting and didn’t know what else to do or say to comfort himself, let alone Jude too. The truth hurts after all. Jude wants him to lie so badly to her. But he doesn’t - he can’t - because they both know it.
They are going to die on this island. Both of them.
And there’s fuck all she can do about it except roll over and wait for it to take them.
She stares at the notebook for a long time. For so long that Jude doesn’t hear him come back into the shack at first.
Frankie’s wearing a blue, floral patterned shirt - which he seems to favour over the others most - over a white t-shirt and some shorts. His facial hair seems longer, yet is sparse in some random patches, she notes. Almost as if it’s grown further in the time it's taken him to bathe and return, which is probably mere minutes, but after reading the notebook passage, feels like forever.
He smiles at her, but his eyes regard her differently. It’s almost as if she can now see all the pain that he’s hidden so well from her.
“You okay?” Frankie asks her as he tosses his other clothes into the case they’ve allocated for their dirty laundry.
Jude nods and gives him a bright smile that’s as sincere as she can muster. More lies fed to each other.
“I’ll go and get ready; won’t be long.” She picks up some clothes and makes her way out the shack and down to the shoreline, stopping at the cave mouth for toiletries.
She bathes and washes away the grime and sweat from the day, but it never really leaves her skin. It’ll be a stench that will be about her person always now it seems.
She looks up at the dark sky from inside the water to be met with a vacant, deep sapphire sky and for a while her thoughts are just as blank. Cut off and void. Just floating on the water's surface, naked under the moonlight and willing the current to take her out to sea and drown her.
Once back on the shore, she puts on the sundress, the turquoise one with the sequins she has yet to wear, and sits on the sand and shaves her legs as best as she can with the blunt razor. She nicks her skin a few times, drawing blood as the razor is effectively useless now.
She inspects the razor blade; shimmering at her from under the light of the moon, and as she runs her thumb over the top of it feeling its jagged surface, she envisions running it across her wrists and just bleeding out here on the sand quietly. End it all, no worries; no more just surviving.
But then she thinks of what Frankie had written: Not when she’s the one keeping me alive...
She drops the razor to the sand beside her and places her hands over her mouth, sobbing as quietly as she can. Cramming the chokes and sniffles back into her selfish body and willing herself to stop with the breakdown.
But she can’t, it rocks through her and renders her a lost and frightened mess. The weight of their predicament, the uncertainty of their future, and the longing for home crashes down upon her like a tidal wave, threatening to engulf her in unrelenting despair.
Each tear that streams down her cheeks carries with it a torrent of pent-up emotion, a silent plea for release from the suffocating grip of this life. She cries until her throat is raw, her nose stuffy and until her chest aches with the effort of holding back the pain. And so, as she lays there on the sand, her tears mingling with the saltwater of the ocean, Jude allows herself to surrender to the unfiltered emotion that consumes her, because she can’t do anything else.
She walks up the beach front towards the rocks and the fire after a few minutes of convincing herself she’ll be okay; sniffing in deeply over and over to rid any evidence of her tears.
The heat is felt on her blotchy face as she passes it. Inside the shack, Frankie is sitting on the cushion bed and looks up at her as she comes in.
She tosses her dirty clothes into the case and he stands up to greet her.
“You look great,” he says to her, smiling approvingly and trying to keep his eyes inside his head.
Jude looks down at the previously unworn sundress that’s a little big for her, and smiles at him. “Not too bad, huh?”
He shakes his head. “Not too bad at all.”
“So,” she puts to him as they stand in the centre of the shack, inches apart from one another, staring at each other.
It’s like they’ve both been given new eyes and can really see each other for the first time. See each other for who they really are under that brazen front presented; can see that each of them are a little worn and bruised on the inside.
His eyes fall on the sequins that swirl all over the front of the sundress and glimmer as the flames from the fire through the window hole dance upon them and make them glitter at him.
His fingers twitch, wanting to reach out and touch one, and a slight look of remorse kidnaps his smile for a brief moment.
“What have you got planned for me?” Jude enquires with a smile.
He smirks at her from under the shadows of his cap; a devilish puckered grin breaking out across his lips that makes her skin prickle up and her nipples come alive and harden under the dress.
“Well, I was thinking maybe a movie, but the cinema here really sucks with their listings.” He states.
She giggles.
“Then I thought maybe salsa dancing,” he rocks his hips from side to side a little and she puts her hand over her mouth as she laughs again as she regards his awkward moves. “But I can’t fuckin’ dance to save my life.” Frankie concludes.
“Evidently,” she agrees, licking her lips.
“So, I figured we could go for a drive and maybe have an impromptu groping session in the back of my truck on the ridge. It’s what all the cool kids do, right?”
“Absolutely,” Jude laughs harder this time, and he chuckles in awe at her.
“I like it when you do that.” Frankie admits and his smile remains in place on his face.
“Do what?”
“Laugh like that. It’s awesome.” He steps forward closing the gap, and tucks her damp hair behind her ear.
She reaches up to his wrist and holds onto it for a moment before taking his left hand and circling the little bullseye tattoo over it.
He smells wild, like the sea and the outside world. The elements of the planet absorbing into his skin and leaving a distinct scent mixed in with his own fragile existence as a man. A man that’s seemingly more attractive to her as the days wear on; thinking about his skin against hers, how he’ll taste on her lips - all the ways he could fuck her over this island.
His fingers feel warm on her face as they brush against her cheek. Sure, they’ve both spied on one another for shits and kinky giggles covertly, but his touch is real now and it burns, leaving scorching, painful brands.
“Frankie,” Jude murmurs softly as he puts both his hands on the side of her face and looks down into her weary eyes.
“Mm?” He hums in a bewitching tone as time slows down around them.
“I need you to tell me that we’re going to get off this island. I need you to believe it.” She whispers to him, clutching onto his wrists.
He presses his forehead against hers and breathes out into her face, the rim of his cap pushing it off his head slightly as it makes contact with hers. “I can’t...”
“Lie to me. Make me believe it.”
“I can’t do that either.” Frankie replies, the warmth of his breath flowing from his plush mouth settles into her pores.
She looks at him and can see his lips, so huge and pink right in her eyes, surrounded by the fuzz of his ever growing moustache and beard.
“Please.” She whimpers; his fingers are felt rummaging hypnotically inside of her hair and scalp, making all the hairs on her body stand tall to order.
He draws back and looks at her square in the eye after taking a deep breath. “We’re going to get off this island.” Frankie says directly to her in a voice that isn’t convincing at all.
“Say it again.” Jude prompts.
“We’re going to get off this island.”
“And again.”
“We’re...” He pauses, searching for the strength he knows he had inside of him once upon a time; before he had come to this wretched place. Before he had succumbed to an addiction that messed everything up.
But he’s coming up empty.
“Frankie-”
He sighs softly. “We’re going to get off this island, Jude.” He repeats again, his shoulders sagging.
She looks back into his eyes; those big, unrelenting orbs that hold a thousand secrets and a thousand lies and it’s hard to tell which is which as they churn around his irises.
“Liar.” She says, with a small slip of a smile and he smiles back at her.
“Promise me something,” she puts to him as he regards her.
“What?” Frankie asks.
“Promise me that you’ll always be honest with me. Even if it’s something you think I won’t want to hear, okay?”
Frankie glances over at the notebook and she turns him back to face her. “Just promise me.”
He nods slowly, his face changing as though he’s been caught out on some dirty, twisted secret. “Did you read it all?”
“I read enough.” Jude says, softly. “You once said to me that it was okay to be scared.”
He nods. “I promise.”
She reaches for his hand and squeezes it tightly.
“Good. Now where’s your shitty truck parked?”
Frankie smiles lightly and takes her hand, leading her out the shack towards the fire.
They eat the remaining fish that Egon hadn’t stolen by the fire side and drink water.
But in the spirit of first dates, Frankie explains to her, in great detail, that he’s in fact taken her to his favourite Mexican restaurant in Florida. They aren’t here under the moonlight, but drinking cocktails, sitting at a table by the window watching the world go by, as they eat and talk and laugh about every topic imaginable.
“What’s it called, this amazing restaurant?”
“The Dancing Red Pepper.” Frankie says, after swallowing his fish.
“Really?”
“They make this cocktail, it’s all the colours of the Mexican flag. I have no fuckin’ idea how they do it, but it’s really cool.” He shrugs.
“That does sound very cool.” Jude agrees. “What do you think you’d be doing if you didn’t go into the Army?” She asks. “Like, what did you wanna be when you grew up?”
“I liked science at school… I figured maybe I could be an archaeologist. I wanted to dig up dinosaur bones.”
“Dinosaurs, huh?” She sounds impressed.
Frankie nods. “Almost came in my pants when I watched Jurassic Park for the first time.”
She snorts. “Cute.”
“What about you? What was the dream job?” He queries with a smirk.
“I’m doing it. I love taking pictures. Always have. It kinda gives you a different perspective on the world when you look through the lens.” She speaks with reverence and a deep rooted adoration for it. It radiates out of her and sinks into Frankie’s skin, infecting him with the wonderment of it all.
“What’s your favourite photograph you’ve ever taken?” Frankie asks.
Jude thinks for a moment and smiles looking into the fire. “I was in France, Paris… there’s this row of benches down by the Jardins Tuileries. And it's really peaceful there... it's nice to just stop and rest, you know? I watched when this old couple sat down together. She pulls a sandwich out of her purse and hands him half it, and they sit there and eat together. And like, they don’t say a word to each other. At all. Like, nothing. No conversation, just silence.”
“Really?” He asks.
“Yeah. but it’s not weird, you know? There wasn’t any tension like they’d had an argument or anything. They simply just hold hands and eat their sandwich half with the other, and watch the world go by together. I took the photo when they’d finished, and the man had turned to the woman and noticed she had a piece of the sandwich on her lip. And he gets his handkerchief out of his pocket and just… dabs ever so gently at her face and smiles at her. I captured it there at that moment. That moment when he looked into her eyes and smiled at her with the most adoration I think I've ever seen in anyone's eyes. It was beautiful.”
“They were in love.” Frankie surmises.
“I really think they were.” Jude smiles. “I have it framed in my room… or at least, I did.”
“I’d love to see it one day, your photo.” He says. And she smiles at him with a little nod.
They sit eating together in a wistful silence for a few moments before Frankie speaks again.
“Did Nate ever look at you like that?"
Jude snorts. "No."
"Tell me how you met him."
“You really want to know about him?” She frowns a little.
“Sure, he was a part of your life, right? Even if he is an asshole.”
“He was.” She bites down on the inside of her cheek sourly. “We met at a house party; he was a friend of a friend.”
“Tell me what happened. You said he cheated?” He enquires.
“I walked in on him fucking another woman in our bed. And it wasn’t for the first time either.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I needed to see it - again. To finally know that I was worth so much more than what he could give me. I’ve spent some time, whilst we’ve been here, evaluating things. I’m sure you have too.”
Frankie nods silently. His mind drifts back to the tumultuous events of his past - the choices made, the paths taken, and the mistakes that haunt him still.
“And it puts a lot of things into perspective, I guess. Like, when we get off this island, there are so many things I’m going to do differently.”
“Did you love him? Like those two people on the bench?” Frankie asks as he looks at her intently, those enquiring eyes of his round and fixated on her.
“With all my piece of shit heart,” she admits. “Did you love your girlfriend?”
Frankie shakes his head. “Not for a long time.”
“Why couldn’t you just tell her?”
Frankie picks up a pebble in the sand; fiddles with it around his thick, shaky fingers. “Because… I was afraid of admitting it out loud to myself,” he replies.
“What were you afraid of exactly?” Jude enquires.
“That I could never really love anybody,” he says flatly. “I know I felt something for her. I know I felt all those things you’re supposed to feel for someone in the beginning. Affection, caring... Maybe even love, I dunno. I just know for a long time we weren’t right, and it was my fault.”
“Why was it your fault, what did you do?” Jude asks.
He swallows hard and sighs hesitantly.
“Frankie, you don’t have to tell me if you’re not comfor-”
“No I…” He sighs again. “I wanna tell you. I-I just don’t think you’ll like it when I do.”
He glances at Jude, her soft features illuminated by the warm glow of the fire, and feels a knot form in his stomach.
For weeks, he’s wrestled with the decision to confide in her, to lay bare the darkest chapter of his past - the chapter he’s fought so hard to overcome, yet has never truly escaped. It's followed him here to the island too.
But as he looks into her eyes, he sees a glimmer of understanding, a flicker of empathy that gives him the courage to speak. Taking a deep breath, he begins to recount the events that had led him down the path of addiction - the pain, the loneliness, the overwhelming sense of despair that had driven him to seek solace in the numbing embrace of drugs.
“I-I had a problem. A problem with drugs. Cocaine. It was so stupid. I lost my licence to fly.” He breathes, feeling his fingers tremble around the pebble further.
“In the Army?”
“No, I’d done my service. Twenty years, or thereabouts. Felt longer. I retired honourably. Entered back into civilization, but it was… different. Tough to adjust and I don't think I really did. I guess I found it hard to settle. We all did.”
“We? You mean your Army buddies?” Judes probes gently.
“Yeah. There isn’t a lot of support out there for us. You're kinda left displaced, y'know? A pat on the back and off you go. I had nightmares for a really long time. I… have nightmares. Sometimes they’re really fuckin' bad. Vivid.”
“I can’t imagine the things you must’ve seen.” Her eyes urge him to continue.
“The things I did,” he holds his wrist out and takes off his broken watch to show Jude the numbers inked into his skin.
“Do they mean something?” She asks, peering at them carefully. She wants to trace her finger over them. “Are they coordinates?”
He shakes his head. “Memories. 9 physical scars. 28 stitches. 39 confirmed kills. 87 civilians. 208 days spent on the front line. 674 bullets.”
“God.” Jude trails off quietly. “Frankie, that’s…”
“I know.” He nods, he tosses the watch on the sand. Jude shuffles closer to him, her knee brushing against his and he smiles thinly.
"9 scars?" She asks, unable to imagine the stories behind them.
He nods. "My body is pretty fucked. But not as much as in here, I guess." He points to his temple and Jude nods forlornly as she tries to comprehend it all.
Taking a deep breath, Frankie begins to speak again, his voice steady, but tinged with emotion.
"It started a few years ago," he says, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames before them. “I dunno, I just… it wasn’t something I actively looked for, it was an opportunity to make some extra cash to help. Things were bad, I was pretty desperate. I was working as a cargo transfer pilot, shit pay and long hours, flying in and picking up small cargo units to bring over borders etc… legitimate cargo. But then I was asked to carry cargo that wasn’t so legitimate.”
“Drugs.” Jude nods.
“It was easy. Too fuckin’ easy. I knew the routes to stay undetected. And then they stopped paying me in cash and paid me in drugs a few times and it started then. I just wanted to sleep. To stop having nightmares. And it worked. Being high was like... all the noise stopped. It was quiet for a while... I got caught. I failed a routine drug test. Pilots can’t fly under any influence. I lost my job after a suspension. I was lucky I didn’t go to jail. And then my life just… spiralled. So fuckin’ fast. And then I went on a job with my buddies. An opportunity came up to make some decent money. Real decent. Could set me up for life. Completely illegal, of course. Colombia..."
He trails off, frowning at the recall of the events in the Andes.
"In Delta Force, we have skills that are specialist. Training for missions that aren't exactly by the book. And this mission was as far from the book as they come. I don’t even know why the fuck I said yes, it was a fuckin’ disaster from the start. We lost one of our own. Tom. He could be an asshole, but he was first in command. He had a daughter… We came home with nothing. Gave the money to the family. It was the right thing to do. I-I came home and threw myself into the drugs to cope I guess. I didn’t tell anybody.”
“You went through all that alone?” Jude asks, looking at him.
“I pushed them all away, it was easier. No guilt. It wasn't just the drugs," Frankie continues, his voice growing softer. "It was the loneliness, the sense of... of failure. I felt like I'd let everyone down, like I'd lost myself somewhere along the way."
Tears well up in his eyes as he speaks, and he pauses, overcome by the weight of his own words. He looks down to see Jude weaving her fingers into his and squeezing gently. He squeezes back.
His voice is steady, but tinged with emotion. “But then I accidentally overdosed and it scared me enough to get help. I went to rehab and it was... terrifying. My sponsor, Eddie, he... I got a new job and threw myself into work. It was all I had, and I needed the distraction it gave me. I was six months sober when I boarded the plane.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a little coin and hands it to her.
"You had this on you all this time?" The coin is small; a little worn round the edge and tarnished.
"Yeah, it survived with me in my pocket. I forgot all about it until after a few days of being here when it fell out as I was washing up my jeans."
“I’m proud of you, Frankie.” Jude whispers.
He simply baulks.
“No-one’s ever told you that, have they?”
“No, just you…” He admits. Frankie wipes away a stray tear, his chest tight with emotion. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice thick with gratitude. "I've never told anyone about this before."
“Did your partner know?”
“Yeah. I put her through a lot. She was there when it got real bad. She was pissed when I went to Colombia. And it was worse when I got back. I think she really hated me in the end. I don’t blame her... I fucked it up entirely.”
Jude squeezes his arm with her other hand and rests her head against it, looking into the fire. “No-one enters into a relationship with the intention of fucking it up.”
“Even Nate?” Frankie questions.
“Well, maybe he’s the exception,” she smirks. “But I think he was just lost in his own way, I guess.”
“Do you miss him?” He asks her enquiringly.
She sighs out. “Sometimes it hurts, like it winds me a bit, from out of nowhere, you know?”
He nods, feeling how good her fingers feel knotted in his own. Her chin knocks against his bicep as she speaks.
“Do you miss your ex-girlfriend? I mean, would you want to try to rekindle things with her again when you get home?”
Frankie shakes his head. “No, it’s dead in the water. I just... I don't want you to think less of me," he admits, his voice tinged with a croaked vulnerability. "But I cheated on her too. Only once. I was completely out of it and, I know it's not an excuse."
She looks up at him, her chin resting on his shoulder.
"I could never think less of you." Jude says, earnestly. "You were hurting, Frankie."
“Back home, I was a completely different man to what I am here.”
"You're strong, you're brave, and you're here, sharing your story with me. That means everything. People can change, Frankie. I’m glad you told me.”
Tears well up in Frankie's eyes again, overwhelmed by her kindness and sincerity. “You told me I could tell you anything, even if you didn’t wanna to hear it.” He murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.
“It's heavy, sure. But, I’m glad you told me. And it’s eight months, by the way. You're eight months sober.” Jude smiles.
Frankie nods looking at her face, inches from his own. “Yeah.”
“I'm just grateful that you trust me enough to open up like this." She surmises.
“I do.” He confirms. He puts his arm around her and squeezes her in close. She feels his hand resting at the hem of the dress, his thumb smoothing over the crease in the dress there on her thigh, running back and forth gently.
She closes her eyes and focuses on the hypnotic feel of it, nuzzling in closer on his arm.
They sit together looking out at the water, blackened by night around the edges of the horizon, but lit up by the moon and galaxy of stars above. Despite the isolation, there’s beauty to be found in this place; times like this where the sapphire water seems to almost glimmer at them and the world is immensely peaceful, save for the gentle rolling waves on the shore; constant background music that never pauses.
“This might sound weird, but being here, with you, it doesn’t suck at all.” Frankie mumbles.
“Ditto.” Jude replies with a smile when he turns to her. She nudges into him playfully with her shoulder and he chuckles.
For a fleeting moment, he entertains the idea of leaning in, of pressing his lips to hers and losing himself in the warmth of her embrace.
His body feels it, blood pumping. Instead, he shifts slightly, adjusting his position by the fire, and forces himself to focus on the crackling flames before him. The temptation lingers in the air, thick and heavy like the smoke from the fire.
Frankie can feel it pulling at him, tugging at the edges of his resolve. He wants nothing more than to lean in, to close the distance between them, and to taste the sweetness of her lips against his own. But he holds himself back, his heart pounding in his chest as he fights against the urge.
Jude senses his hesitation, and turns to him, her eyes searching his face carefully. "Are you okay?" She asks softly.
“I’m sorry that what I wrote upset you.” Frankie says, swallowing hard.
“You don’t need to apologise for feeling that way. I mean, we’re kinda leaning on each other, right?” She feels that pang inside her chest again.
“Yeah... we are.”
“I’m glad.” She smiles. “I’m glad you’re here with me. We can definitely get through this together. This island has met its match.” She makes a fist and he bumps it with his own.
“It sure has, hermosa," he agrees. Frankie looks at her and smiles back before looking out at the sea again.
He stands up with her after a while of contented, thoughtful silence that envelops them both, and they smile back at one another again.
“So, this is the part where I walk you home and then you ask me if I want to come in for a coffee.” Frankie states with the fire casting dancing embers inside his eyes; almost glowering at her demonically.
“You know that's code, right?" She chirps. "Besides, I don’t drink coffee, so good luck with that.”
“Really, no coffee?”
“No, can’t stand the taste.”
“Man, I can’t even function in the morning without a coffee.” He holds out his arm for her, and she links it in hers.
“I had a really good time tonight.” She teases him in a fluttery voice.
“Oh, shut up,” he smirks, as they laugh walking the very short distance from the shoreline, past the fire and towards the shack.
Once at the shack, they linger outside the doorway and both giggle awkwardly.
“So,” Frankie begins.
“Don’t be weird.” Jude concludes.
“Was it everything you hoped for?” Frankie asks, as he puts his hands inside his shorts pockets awkwardly.
“You mean the date?”
“What else would I be referring to?” He shrugs with a smirk.
“It was perfect.”
“Perfect, huh? No room for improvement; I mean the fuckin’ waiter took ages with the dessert.”
“True. Okay, I’ll knock it down to a seven out of ten.”
“Seven? Ouch...” He puts his hand over his chest like he’s been shot.
She laughs again and brushes the hair away from her face.
“If I kiss you, will that bump it up to ten?” Frankie asks with a fixated smile looming over her.
“I don’t know. Try it and see.” She feels her stomach flutter and her heart begin to thrum in her chest.
He simply twists his cap backwards on his head making her chuckle, and pulls her closer to him with his arm around her waist; his touch seems like it’s suddenly burning. He reaches up, his fingers on her chin and tilts her face up to him.
“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?” Frankie murmurs to her and watches as her eyes dip, smiling under her fanned lashes and melting somewhat in his arms.
His eyes are deep set and mysterious, rounded and yet almond shaped at the same time. She’s wondered for so long what this would be like, thinking about how he’ll taste, feel...
“Are you gonna smooth talk me, Fish, or are you gonna kiss me?” Jude giggles.
Smiling, he slants his lips against hers, smooching delicately as her hands sweep around the back of his neck and she stands up on tip toes as he pulls her against his slender body.
His tongue slides inside her mouth tentatively and exploring; the wiry, greying hairs from his moustache tickling her lip deliciously. His hand works inside her hair at the back of her head, cradling her closer, and she rifles her fingers through his curls at the nape of his neck and feels him groan inside her mouth.
The noise sets her skin alight, birthing millions of goose bumps across the surface and sending shivers down her spine and into her toes. Jude nips onto his lips and he smiles through the kiss, biting back gently and suckling on her bottom lip; their tongues dancing and grinding against one another as they explore each other’s mouths in a hypnotic rhythm.
Every nerve in his body seems to come alive with the electric energy of the moment, sparking with the intensity of their connection.
But beneath the surface of his excitement, there’s also a profound sense of vulnerability lurking as he trembles. He’s baring his soul to her, laying his heart on the line in a way he never has before. The weight of his confession hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the crackling of the fire and the soft sigh of the night breeze.
Yet despite the uncertainty that dances on the edges of his consciousness, there’s also a sense of rightness, of belonging. In her arms, Frankie feels safe, understood, and accepted for who he truly is, faults and all. And as their lips meet in a tender, yet charged lock, all the doubts and fears that have plagued him melt away into a depth that he feels like he's no longer drowning in. He feels, for a moment, like he can truly breathe above the surface of the water.
For Jude, the moment is a whirlwind of emotions, a kaleidoscope of sensations that leave her breathless and exhilarated. As Franke leans in to kiss her, she feels a surge of warmth spread through her body, igniting a spark of desire deep within her core.
His touch is gentle yet firm, sending shivers down her spine with anticipation. Her heart races in her chest and ears, a rapid cadence matching the rhythm of their breaths as they meld together in an intimate vie for one another.
She can feel the heat of his body against hers, a comforting warmth that chases away the oncoming chill of the night air. With each brush of their lips, she feels herself sinking deeper into the moment, losing herself in the dizzying sensation of him. Time seems to stand still as they linger in each other's arms, their bodies pressed close as if trying to merge into one.
He pulls away, leaving the ghost of him on her lips to taste, and waits, looking at her expectantly.
“Meh. Nine point five,” Jude remarks, and he rolls his eyes smirking, leaning in to kiss her again.
She kisses him back intensely, feeling how wet and warm his tongue is inside her mouth again. It makes Catherine wheel’s spin inside her chest, her toes buzz. She clenches between her legs when she feels him prodding against her belly, something so obviously hard in it's shape, and it makes her whimper.
And Frankie groans at that sound, clutching her closer; his kiss becoming more frantic, her hands grappling at him harder. He squeezes at her hips with a grunt.
“Frankie…” She gasps, running her mouth up the side of his neck, tasting the salted skin there as he licks and kisses over her shoulder, tempted, so fuckin' tempted, to just pull the strap down.
Her mind goes blank, lost in the noise of the colour he paints over her skin with his tongue.
”Tell me to stop,” he husks as his hands slide over her ass, groping and squeezing as he winds his hips further into her body. "Jude, tell me to stop." He begs.
“I don’t want you to stop.” Jude gasps, finding his mouth again as he crushes her to him. She runs her hands down his chest and he shudders. “Take me inside,” she smiles around his lips.
“If I take you inside, I’m gonna fuck you.” Frankie warns with a groan as her hands knot inside his shirt, tugging on it sharply and moaning out at his words. “And you said you don’t fuck guys on a first date,” he pants, feeling his head swim and fill with bubbles.
All he can think about is how she feels inside his hands as he tries his damned hardest to cling onto his remaining composure, fingers slipping off the ledge.
And how fucking hard he is right now.
Jude looks up at him, her heart hammering so loud in her ears that she’s convinced he can hear it too. “I might make an exception, just this once.”
He grins at her, thumb running the length of her jaw before he kisses there again. “Me matas… fuck.” (You kill me.)
“Take me inside and fuck me, Frankie.” She confirms with a blazing smile.
To be continued...
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Fangs. Spider-Man 2099
Miguel O’Hara/ Reader(AFAB)
*no gendered pronouns/terms used* *Not edited*
cw: SMUT 18+ MDNI—> fangs, creampie, AFAB oral(receiving), P in V sex.
Miguel wanted nothing more than to come home and forget about all that's been going on. The weight of the multiverse rested upon his shoulders, and it took everything in him to not break.
Softly landing on the balcony to his shared apartment, taking a quick glance into the windows- there you are. A sigh leaves him as he gently opens the balcony door. the book you had been reading was tossed aside, jumping up from the couch you are running to Miguel. Your body warms with your shared embrace. "I missed you." your words are muffled as you shove your head further into his chest getting lost in his familiar scent. With your words Miguel is tightening his hold on you, "Me too." lifting your head just enough to rest your chin on his chest, "Do you want to talk about it?" a huff escapes him, "No, I don't want to think about anything besides you and me right now." reaching one of your hands to pull off his mask, "Ok." Softly tossing the material to the side, cupping his cheek you motion him to lean down towards you. A chuckle leaves his beautiful lips, "What is it you want mi amor?"
A little whine leaves you, pouting your lips at his resistance. A cocky smile graces his face, "Nope that face wont work on me." Your defeated sigh fills the air, "I want you." shying away from looking at him. "Hmm, What was that?" oh you were going to punch him, you knew he could hear you. Miguel watched as you eventually moved your face towards his, fire burning within your eyes. "I want you." As your words fall from your lips Miguel is already leaning down, capturing your lips with his. It’s sweet but desperate, his arms lower from being around your shoulders down to your waist. Without even thinking about it Miguel let’s his fangs extend, nipping at your bottom lip. You let out a gasp at the sensation, creating the perfect opportunity for Miguel to push his tongue into your mouth. A deep satisfied groan rumbles from his chest, as he gets lost in the taste of you. Tongues dancing together, but all too soon you both are pulling apart for air. Your eyes immediately lock onto the thin string of saliva that kept you two connected. Just as Miguel has got his breath back he’s moving his kisses down the side of your face going towards your neck. Taking advantage of the thin tank-top, he leaves a plethora of dark to light love marks down your neck. Stopping where your neck and shoulder meet, inhaling your addictive scent he sinks his fangs into you. Making sure to not excrete venom out while biting you. A wobbly moan tumbles from your lips at the sensation.
Retracting his fangs he raises his head, locking onto your gaze. “Can I have you?” His voice is strained with lust, it takes a moment longer to really register his words with the fog your mind has accumulated. “Yes- please.” And with your words Miguel is swiftly picking you up, carrying you to your shared bedroom. On your way there you feel the ticklish feeling of Miguel’s talons cutting expertly through your clothing. Making it to the bedroom and being tossed onto the bed, you realize that Miguel has ruined your clothes. They are now nothing more than big scraps of fabric. A whine of annoyance leaves you at this discovery but you are soon shut up by Miguel, “I’ll buy you new ones.” His voice is gruff but full of promise. Throwing what’s left of your clothes to the floor, you are left completely bare, and Miguel is soon following your lead. Quickly pulling off the top half of his suit, the bottom half not too far behind. Finally he’s left completely bare to you, your eyes shamelessly roam across his exposed skin.
Eyes catching on to the scars that litter his torso, seeing the defined muscle that looks like an artist sculpted them. A rosy blush dusts your cheeks as your eyes lock on to his heavy and aching cock. Fully erect and leaking precum, your toes curl in anticipation. “Cariño, don’t look at me like that.” At his voice your eyes quickly rise to meet his, his voice sent liquid heat down your spine. His words were laced with lust and hold more meaning than just the words alone. “I can’t help it, your so beautiful.” Your words are nothing but sincere, and they have Miguel smiling. “Te amo.” His body is shadowing yours, hands on each side of your head. Lips descending upon your body, little nips from his fangs accompany each burning kiss. Tongue swirling around each perky nipple. With a measured pace Miguel finally reaches where you need him most, making sure to be gentle Miguel latches both hands to the bottom of your thighs lifting you up towards his mouth.
In one quick movement his tongue is lapping up your cunt, relishing in the taste that is undeniably you. Swirling from bottom to top, plunging his tongue inside massaging the inner walls of your cunt. Then he’s retracting, heading towards your clit. Fingers filling the space his tongue has left, tongue dancing around your clit. Miguel has brought heaven to you in this moment, your mind was wrapped in a lustful haze of pure pleasure. Your hands were gripping tight upon his hair, the only thing that was keeping you grounded. Your moans where music to Miguel’s ears, he was taking special care to not pierce you with his talons but every lap of his tongue made it that much more difficult. And to add onto the strain to not hurt you with his talons, he was having an extremely difficult time not ripping himself away from your cunt so that he could properly fuck you into the bed. So for now he was distracting his leaking cock by it rutting into comforter. But fortunately he wouldn’t have to wait long, because before he knew it he could feel you grip tighten and your moans rising in frequency, you were close to cumming. “Miguel- more, please.” Rushed and needy are your words, but you never needed to worry Miguel would follow your every request or demand until the end of time.
The feeling of your walls rhythmically tightening around his fingers with a vice like grip has him groaning into your clit. As he slows his movements with your waning orgasm his moving his body up the bed, lining his cock up with your glistening cunt. Sinking into has Miguel’s mind short-circuiting, no matter how many times you both did this dance he would never get tired of it. Arranging your legs to rest wrapped around his strong waist. Hips grinding into you, making sure to go to the hilt with every deep thrust. Pushing his talons into the comforter, most likely ruining yet another piece of fabric. Your hands latch onto his wide shoulders, forehands nearly touching as you both share the air around you. Shared sounds of pleasure surround you both, picking up the pace. Harder, faster thrusts has you digging your nails into him, arching your self to get as close as possible. And thankfully Miguel is on the same wavelength, both hands are quick to wrap around your torso. Pulling flush against his chest, you can now feel his rapid heartbeat along with every groan and moan he lets out. “Miguel—I’m close.” A slurred expletive in Spanish is all you get in return. Miguel rises up to his knees, you are clinging onto him- arms around his neck and legs around his waist. He’s pulling you down to meet his every harsh thrust. Head thrown back, eyes rolling back as the head of his cock kisses your cervix sending pure pleasure throughout your body. The brush of his fangs against your neck has you shivering in response. Each thrust within you has you spiraling closer to the edge of release. Miguel is soon moving one of his hands closer to your clit, rubbing tight furious circles around it. And with those quick movements your cumming around his cock, squeezing every inch of him, trying to get him to cum with you and to stay connected with you. Another harsh Spanish expletive is heard along with a moan as he pulls you firmly against him, every twitch of his release is felt within you.
Sweet kisses are being placed along your neck along with familiar spanish endearments, “so good…I love you so much.” Miguel’s voice is muffled by your skin. With gentle movements Miguel is slow to leave your cunt, with sweet fulfillment he watches as his cum slowly dribbles out of you. Keeping his tight embrace around you he is unhurriedly heading towards the bathroom, using his organic webs to turn on the water- filling the tub. As he waits for the tub to fill he busies himself with relaxing within your embrace, finally becoming free from the stress he has accumulated.
With the tub finally full, a smirk is making its way upon his face. You had begun to grind against his cock bringing it to attention, Miguel couldn’t help but let out a huff- you were insatiable and he couldn’t love you more for it.
#x reader#smut#miguel o'hara x reader#into the spider verse#spiderman#spider man: across the spider verse#spider man 2099#spider man 2099 smut#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara x you#miguel o’hara smut#fluff#across the spiderverse#spider man
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hi !! can we get ifrit having fun with phantom please ?
He gets along with everyone, immediately. There's no dancing around any of the others, no need to dip his toes into the water gingerly when it comes to getting to know them. Aeon is simply summoned and welcomed and finds it terribly easy to hit his stride from the get go.
You fit in well, Ifrit tells him at mass one night, eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiles and somehow still manages to seem dangerous even when trying to appear friendly. Perhaps it's the proximity that throws him, the closeness with which Ifrit sits on the pew beside him when he's sure there could be more space. He knows very little- well, is given very little information about Ifrit, who spends more time in the back rooms and shadows of the abbey since packing away the guitar. At some point, they'll all learn what a curious creature Aeon is, prone to exploration by any means possible. It's but a small shame that it will take them a moment to catch up with how quickly Aeon is prone to explore his interests.
By the time Aether actually has a moment to tell Aeon that Ifrit is an older summon, less refined, less patient- more prone to giving in to wants with no hesitation-
Well. The warning would have gone unheeded before, but by the time it happens, Aeon's already let the curiosity steer him down a dimly lit corridor. Into a dimly lit room.
He allows curiosity to pull him into Ifrit's lap, allows curiosity to force him as if controlled by strings to run his hands up Ifrit's arms, feeling and squeezing the muscles. Indulgent, Ifrit smiles that same, unsettling smile, and adjusts so he can flex his bicep for Aeon to feel.
"How strong are you?" Aeon asks, caressing. His tone is amused and relaxed, for now. He's just so interested, excited at the thought of discovery. The nerves will come later, but they aren't here now. Later, his breath will hitch in his chest and his eyes will go wide and worried while he pants out harsh breath and his body will tremble with fear and uncertainty- of this, Ifrit will make sure. But for the next few moments, Aeon is sweet and easy prey. Food to toy with, and utterly pleased with that role. He continues feeling his arm, smiling a crooked little grin with crooked little teeth. The smile only grows when Ifrit's other hand lands heavy on his thigh.
"Stronger than you," Ifrit murmurs, nostrils flaring while he scents the air on his next inhale, breathing in the electrical sparks of arousal rolling off Aeon, so close. It would be easy to push him to the ground and take him. Easier still when that's what Aeon wants him to do.
"Oh, yeah, of course," Aeon says, pleased. "But how much?" He draws his hands to Ifrit's chest, rubs flat palms over him there, and Ifrit allows it. Fights the urge to grab and grope and take and instead- like a gentleman, allows Aeon to feel and explore and grind against his thigh enough to work himself up more. "Bet you could carry me pretty easily, huh? Even if I tried to make it difficult."
Ifrit takes a deep, slow breath in and inhales the smell of the blood rushing through Aeon's veins and doesn't bother to hide the way it makes his mouth water.
"If I wanted to," Ifrit says in a low, measured tone, "it wouldn't matter what you wanted."
Aeon hums, pleased. Gaze dropping to Ifrit's mouth, and then he ducks down for the briefest tease of a kiss, the softest most maddening excuse for one, but enough to seal his own fate.
"Prove it."
#st-speaks#ghost#the band ghost#nameless ghouls#ghost fanfiction#ghost headcanons#ifrit ghoul#phantom ghoul#aeon ghoul#ifrit/phanton#ifrit/aeon#ifrit x aeon#ifrit x phantom
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Unexpected Discovery
Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Platonic!Reader
Summary: During your time of boredom, you come to find out something about Miguel you didn’t think you’d ever expect.
Warnings: None! Fluff and hopefully something to laugh at.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bored. Bland. Uneventful.
Those were the perfect words to describe your dull situation.
You were in the living room with your good friend Miguel who was reading a science book, sitting on the couch beside you. From what you could tell, it was about genetics. Nothing fun. This caused a groan to fall past your lips, slouching deeper into the couch. Miguel looked at you through his reading glasses with a raised brow.
“What’s wrong with you.” He questioned.
“I’m dying of boredom.” You moaned as your head looked towards him.
“Grab yourself a book, then.” He instructed as he looked back at his book, resuming to read.
“I’m no nerd.” You hissed.
Miguel rolled his eyes as he continued on to turn the page of his book. “It could do you some good.” He asserted.
What a smartass, you thought.
You had no intention of reading a book. It, however, was nice, but it wasn’t something you had the will to do. Not right now.
Your eyes landed on your intelligent friend. Then, your eyes landed on his sides, exposed and vulnerable, like a deer in the middle of a meadow during hunting season.
That was when Miguel jolted upward in surprise. His glasses are lopsided and his book has indentations that his talons made, he lost focus. He gave you a look of shock, then anger.
“What the shock was that?!” He bellowed as he took his glasses off. He saw your finger on his side.
“You’re ticklish.” You stated.
He froze.
.
.
.
HE MAKES A RUN FOR IT.
“Hey!!” You yell as you run behind him in hot pursuit. You started to laugh a little before you two were at an impasse. He had retreated to the kitchen where the island was his only shield from suffering the consequences of you finding out something he hoped you wouldn’t.
You bantered with him to get from behind the counter, but he obviously declined. This made you vault over the countertop toward him, making him practically yelp in surprise as he made another break to somewhere he could be safe. However, you were gaining.
He ran to the bedroom to find refuge, but you were on his tail before he even got the chance to close the door. You tackled him down ruthlessly to the floor, now on top of him as he started to squirm.
“NO NO. DETENTE- GET-” He was interrupted.
Your devilish fingers found his weak points like lightwork and began the torment.
A thunderous laugh left past his lips, however, he tried to hold it in. To no avail, he couldn’t hold in his laughter. He snorted and wheezed at your assault to his sides, squirming around to break free.
Picture that. The fearsome leader of a society, so cold, calculated, and stoic, beneath you. He was laughing! Because he was ticklish! This complete mammoth of a dude is ticklish!
“STO- HAH- STOP!” He pleaded as he tried to pull away, but he was too weak. You weren’t backing down. He had tears in his eyes, his cheeks and sides began to hurt. When Miguel tried to turn his body to avoid being tickled on one spot, you were quick to find another.
You kept going until he was close to crying. You backed away as you laughed at him. He was a panting mess. He sheepishly got back on his feet with a red face, still suffering from the giggles. Although… He’s a person that gives back what is owed. You knew that and immediately began to back track.
“… Miguel-“
“Better get running.”
You began to run. PAYBACK!!
.
.
.
#miguel o'hara#atsv miguel#miguel spiderverse#miguel#miguel spiderman#miguel ohara#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel ohara x you
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