#this man is a one-eyed legend | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

catiuskaa · 3 months

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missed me, missed me, now you gotta...

SUMMARY: minho wasn’t grumpy, nor he was jealous. but he hasn’t been the same ever since he fell in love with you.

REQUESTED! by a sweet annonie right here. pookie, your idea was lovely to write! lil grumpy minho, im melting… it’s a bit short, but I hope you like it! <3

CW: use of (crack) text messages to convey the plot, starring: han quokka as cupid + reader’s bsf, clingy minho as king of my heart, and ngl, type 1 diabetes fluff ahead. keep insulin shots close just in case! lol

WC: 1.1k

A/N: i love how i’m slowly turning into a minho blog/page lmaoo, only minho: the man, the myth, the legend!

[🪻☆🌫️☆🪻]

The same ringtone buzzed again during rehearsals. Its ding had sounded so many times already that it had started to get repetitive really quickly.

Minho frowned as he looked in the mirror, retouching his rolled sleeves just once more for what he secretly knew it had been more than twenty times. In the span of ten minutes. Maybe even less.

But Minho wasn’t ‘grumpy’.

He so wasn’t.

His day had been normal so far. He had no reason to be grumpy. Not one what-so-ever.

He had woken up in between your arms, and even if he had ‘complained’ about it, he loved being the little spoon. And also, his cats jumped on the bed and, just for once, none of them landed on his face.

There had been just one thing.

…

Well. Technically more than one.

You had rushed outside this morning. You claimed you didn’t have time to have breakfast with him, because you were late for something he didn’t really get. Because of that, you hadn’t come over to the JYP building with him. He had to drive over alone. And you hadn’t pecked him goodbye at the entrance like always.

But he. Wasn’t. Grumpy.

Not. At. All.

> sunggie: girl, did you hide his cats or smth?

< minho’s owner: lol, wdym dude?

> sunggie: he looks like he’s going to kill me.

> sunggie: And he loves me! Wtf??

“Jisung-ah.”

Han shrieked in his place in the sofa, his phone almost falling off his hands. He quickly turned it off, hoping that the grumpy dancer hadn’t seen the old or new messages.

“Who were you texting?” Minho frowned, deeper this time.

“Oh.” Jisung chuckled. “Just checking in on noona.”

“My girlfriend?” The way Minho enunciated the title felt a bit possesive. Jisung eyed at him weirdly for a second. Even he felt weird himself.

Jisung nodded sheepishly, turning his phone back on but quickly opening a random app.

“Yeah. I owed her a call back.” He shrugged, nonchalantly accepting that he had opened Subway Surfers, and started to play.

As the catchy music came from Han’s phone, Minho shook his head.

Not grumpy.

Not at all.

But the thought that you had been texting Han and didn’t text him —instead of him— did funny things in his chest.

Now, keep in mind that Minho would never describe himself as a jealous man.

He trusted you with his cats, of course he trusted you regarding your relationship. But he had barely got a hold of you all day. And Han had. By call and text. Like he was doing now.

Not grumpy.

Sure.

< minho’s owner: you dead yet?

Jisung groaned.

> sunggie: no! you made me lose my score!

> sunggie: and I don’t have any keys! ㅠㅠ

< minho’s owner: sucks to suck, lol

< minho’s owner: but what’s wrong with my future husband? did you do something?

> sunggie: he’s moody since he came in this morning.

> sunggie: you weren’t here tho. smth wrong between ya?

< minho’s owner: no…? just had to run to work early…

And then, something in Jisung’s paboracha brain connected. Probably because of how he had named your contact in his phone.

> sunggie: omg

< minho’s owner: what?

> sunggie: that corny dumbass

> sunggie: he’s so stupid

< minho’s owner: bitch what is it???

> sunggie: he’s moody bc u didn’t come in with him today!

You hesitated. Could that be it?

< minho’s owner: really? u think so?

> sunggie: bitch I know so!

> sunggie: imma go get boba for the boys, get your ass here and come w/ me

Jisung’s brain started to work at cupid’s speed.

< minho’s owner: omw. be there in 5’

“Guys, I’m gonna go get boba. Do any of you want something?”

The rest of the gang blabbered something while some kept going over the steps of the choreography and the others rested on the couch, doozing off or on their phones. Han quickly noted down everyone’s orders, not before being squinted down by Minho. He held back a shiver.

“Clingy prick…” Jisung mumbled, leaving quickly.

He walked out of the JYP building, waiving and half bowing to the staff members and other artists in the building.

< minho’s owner: just parked! ^^

Jisung entered the boba place next to the building, smiling at the cashier as he read down the orders on his note app, and stood aside, waiting for the drinks.

“Hey!” You smiled widely at him, taking off your scarf, merely leaving it hanging on your shoulders. He clapped your hand, playfully slapping your back.

“Working hard?” Jisung snickered, pointing at the bag on your other hand.

You side-eyed at him, giggling softly.

“Took some snacks before heading off.” You shrugged. “We can sneak these in, right?”

Jisung scratched the back of his neck. “We’ll… come up with something.”

You both struggled carrying the drinks, teasing each other and betting who’d make a mess first. But all giggles came to an end when the security guard stared at you.

“Name and business?” He asked in a low huff.

Your body stiffened.

“She’s my sister,” Han chimed back. You were in fact far from being his sister, but that didn’t matter when the guard seemed to nod. “She’s just helping me carry the drinks inside.”

“And the bag? What’s inside?”

You cleared your throat, smiling. “Clothes for him to change once he finishes training.” You lied.

Thank God for his imagination. And for his stupid idea of shoving your scarf and his hoodie into the bag of snacks.

“Ok. You may come in.” The guard smiled politely.

Only after the both of you had gotten into the elevator you allowed yourselves to let out a sight full of relief. You two then smirked, high-fiving.

“Thank you, bro.” You teased in a snicker.

He cackled. “You’re welcome, sis.”

You both laughed and joked until you reached the training room.

“The person you dream of is back!” Han cackled.

“Noona!” Felix grinned happily.

“Yeah, that’s me!” You cackled at Jisung’s faked frown.

You smiled and greeted everyone as you entered, leaving a certain bunny boy for last.

You sat next to him on the couch, and without missing a beat, he took your legs and layed them on his lap.

You took a sip of his drink, and he stared at you, almost with a squint.

“You’ve made me jealous of fucking Han Jisung.” He stated matter-o-factly, making you practically choke on the tapioka pearls.

You coughed. “What?”

“You texted him all evening. And me? Not even a good luck kiss this morning.”

“Aw, are you grumpy, kitten?” You grinned teasingly, speaking only towards him in a soft tone to his ear. You pecked his cheek.

He needed more of those.

Grumpy, huh?

“Yes. Very.” He mumbled, hiding his blushed and pleased grin in the crook of your neck. “Need more kisses.”

“Well, you know how it goes.” You mumbled in a snicker. He hummed at you, waiting for you to explain.

You kissed his forehead softly, his hands stroking your thighs.

“Missed me, missed me, now you gotta kiss me.”

~Kats, who can write this in one sit, but can’t figure out how chemistry works (yes have exams, why did I choose this for myself, help)

2K notes · View notes

porcelainseashore · 1 month

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Heavenly Creatures

Pairing: Altar Boy! Leon Kennedy x Catholic School Girl! Reader

Summary: Growing up in a conservative, Catholic community, you and Leon were kept apart as kids for your own good. However, a fateful encounter at church many years later causes you to question those boundaries.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Smut, porn with plot, unprotected p in v, oral (m & f receiving), rimming (f receiving), semi-public sex (church), Catholicism, religious imagery & symbolism, temptation, guilt, shaming, name-calling, growing up, smoking, swearing, romance, fluff, secret relationship.

Authors' Note: Leon and Reader are in senior high and 18 when smut happens. No guarantee that you won’t burn in hell after reading this 🔥😂

Special thanks to AliBelleRosetta for being my sounding board + shadesoflsk & Cameron for your helpful feedback.

AO3 Link

Snake. Devil. Satan’s spawn.

Those were the names you had grown accustomed to as a child. You didn’t know why you were called them, instead of the one your parents had given you. You were too little to understand. All you knew was that you were made to feel different. Maybe you were really an anomaly from the rest after all.

Instead of being quiet and shy, you were loud and boisterous. It was natural for you, seeing as you were going through your tomboy phase, which was the exact reason your parents had stuck to when they received complaints about your behavior. They laughed it off, while others reigned their daughters in, forcing them into perfect Sunday dresses, braided hair adorned with pastel ribbons and clean, black Mary Jane shoes. Good enough to fit into a pretty gift box with wrapping paper. But you would tear it all down, before anyone could lay a finger on you.

Growing up in a place where other children were told to shun you was difficult at first. But then, you learnt to play by yourself and relish in the power of make believe. You climbed trees, rolled in the mud and ran through the forest fending off imaginary monsters. Sometimes, when you bumped into other groups of boys who threw stones and made fun of you, you fought back, further earning the title of crazy witch! Who needed these idiots anyway? You were your own best company.

One day, you sat in your disheveled, cream cotton dress, swinging your legs from a tree in your front lawn as usual. It overlooked the suburban neighborhood street, giving you a bird’s eye view of your surroundings. You noticed a family of three strolling along the sidewalk, though the couple gave you a disapproving look as they walked past, and whispered to their little, adolescent boy. They thought they were being so discreet, but you could hear every single word they were saying.

“Don’t pay attention to her. She’s bad news.”

Regardless of this remark, the boy gave in to his curiosity and as he peered up, you held his wide-eyed gaze. His irises were azure in color, glowing as it caught the early dusk light from different angles, shifting across a stunning spectrum of bluish, iridescent hues. You were captivated by them, and as you continued staring, his cheeks turned rosy red, though it seemed like he could not break away from you either. That moment was abruptly cut short, as his father smacked the back of his head, chiding his son for disobeying him.

“Come along now, Leon.” The older man wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders, turning him away from your direction.

Leon. So, that was his name. As you watched them turn the corner at the end of the street and head off, you wondered if and when you’d see him again.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Leon had heard the stories passed around about you. His parents had often commented about your family as being one of those ‘weird, hippy types’. Frankly, this didn’t scare him, but rather, it fascinated him. They made you appear like something he had read in a book about myths and legends, and he wanted to see if it was real.

The next time he went out to play in the field, he walked by your place again on purpose, even though it would have been the longer route. As he had predicted, you were up in the tree again, lounging across its branches with your eyes closed, like a slithery snake basking in the sun. Your dress was stained with grass and dirt, and your feet were soiled and filthy. Twigs poked out haphazardly from your knotted, messy hair.

You looked like a creature of sorts, alright, he thought.

He inched towards the base of the tree trunk gingerly, trying not to stir the sleeping beast. But as he got closer, he accidentally stepped into a pile of dead leaves, which crunched underfoot.

You roused from your slumber then, rubbing your eyes as you stretched your arms out with a lazy yawn. He flinched when you looked downwards at him, as if you might strike out, but you just smiled and said, “Hi.”

He was confused then. From the descriptions of you, he had expected you to breathe fire and gnash your teeth at him fiercely, but you were just a normal girl. He gave you a puzzled look, nodding as he greeted you with a stutter, “Hi… I-I’m, uh, Leon.”

“I know.” You grinned.

“You do?” He looked astounded, as if you’d conducted some dark ritual to find out.

You picked up on this and teased him, wiggling your fingers as you mouthed, “Magic…”

He laughed, relaxing his stiff shoulders and asking you for your name. He’d only known you until now as that girl, or one of those nicknames people gave you out of spite.

You introduced yourself and offered him a half-eaten apple you had munched on before napping on the tree. He hesitated at first, regarding it as if it were a forbidden fruit, but eventually he reached out for it. Gratefully, he bit in, savoring the flavorful burst of its juicy flesh.

“Do you go to church?” He asked suddenly, out of the blue.

Shielding your eyes from the afternoon sun with your hand, you squinted at him. “Yeah, why?”

“Oh.” He paused, considering his next words, though he blurted out with unfiltered honesty, “Well, my dad said that demons can’t enter hallowed ground.”

“I’m not a demon,” you huffed indignantly.

“No, you aren’t,” he agreed, waving his hands in the air apologetically, trying to salvage the situation. “I think you’re nice, actually.” His face was warm and pink again.

“I think you’re nice too.”

And it continued on like this. Some days, he’d pop over to visit and speak with you from below the tree, when he was sure no one was watching. Until a day came where he wasn’t as careful, and was spotted by a concerned neighbor, who ratted him out to his parents.

You were sad that he wasn’t allowed to see you again, but you’d grown used to being alone for most of your childhood, so you tried to put it behind you and move on, unaware that he’d often look out for you at each week’s Sunday Mass.

━━━━━━━━━━━

A number of years passed, and you filled out into your own body. You were in your senior year of an all-girls Catholic high school, and had recently turned 18. Reaching womanhood also meant that you became acutely aware of the changes in the way society treated you now, as compared to the opposite sex. Heads turned as you stalked around with one of the more unruly cliques in your school. Instead of being name-called after otherworldly creatures, you were reduced to bitch, slut, or whore.

People hated what they couldn’t understand or control. You’d been giving the nuns a hard time by asking controversial questions about the biblical text you were meant to study and recite blindly. Detention was nothing new to you and your friends, whom you’d been caught smoking cigarettes together with on school grounds. You were a rebel at heart, and the rest of the law-abiding community wanted to crush that and make you conform.

Leon, on the other hand, had been going to the all-boys school next door, which shared a brother school relationship with yours. He was in the same year and age as you, though being a man meant he had the privilege of getting away with certain things you couldn’t. Even there, your name wasn’t safe from being circulated around the rumor mill. You were the subject of boys’ locker room talk. They associated you with the ‘bad girl’ crowd, highlighting your love for reading banned books and boasting about supposed sexual escapades with you.

“She’ll do favors,” they said, making vulgar gestures by moving their fist back and forth in front of their mouth, while poking their tongue against their cheek.

Leon slammed his locker door shut and stormed off. It made him uncomfortable that they gossiped about you that way, but he was even more ashamed of the fact that he made no effort to stand up for you. He hardly knew you, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that what they were doing was finding a scapegoat to blame. That, unfortunately, time and time again, happened to be you.

Most of the students there were sexually active anyway, but no one had complained about them. As long as one kept things on the down-low and upheld a certain moralistic façade, they were considered as ‘innocent’, ‘pure’, or ‘normal’ even. For one, he was pretty sure that his father was having an affair with the church choir mistress, but that seemed to go overlooked.

Everyone’s such hypocrites, he pondered, frowning in distaste. Including himself. Although he liked to think that he was brave and courageous, in actuality, he was afraid of rocking the boat. Fitting in was more important, just as his parents had taught him from a young age. It was the side of him that he hated the most, but could not get rid of.

Gathering his belongings, he left school and hurried off. He’d been requested last-minute to serve at Mass that evening, as one of the other altar boys had fallen ill. At church, he exchanged his school uniform for the standard black cassock and white surplice, before starting with the Introductory Rites.

You, on the other hand, had been singled out along with a bunch of other troublesome girls to attend Evening Mass with the Mother Superior that day. It was just your luck that you had to devote an hour of your time to a set of outdated rituals and prayers, with the aim of reflecting upon your sins. The most frustrating part of this exercise was that all of you were placed in the front row pews, so there was no chance of daydreaming or dozing off in front of the priest. You’d never been much of a believer, but sometimes you did speculate if God was watching your every move from above.

As you stood up for the entrance procession, which signaled the start of Mass, a familiar mop of dirty blonde hair and dazzling blue eyes passed by. You’d recognize that anywhere, but it was a wonder how you hadn’t realized that he was serving as an altar boy all this while. Maybe your Mass timings hadn’t aligned? Or maybe you just never paid much attention in church. You’d only seen him here and there when he attended Mass with his family as part of the congregation, but you ignored him back then, because you didn’t want to remember the feeling of losing the closest thing you had to a friend in your pre-teen days.

When Leon turned around to face the congregation for the greeting, he gulped as he saw you, standing almost directly in front of him as both of you made the Sign of the Cross. Speak of the devil, he muttered internally, before chastising himself for unintentionally insulting you and shook that thought away.

You gave him a coy smile as he scampered off to where he was meant to be stationed. For the first time in a while, you took the chance to admire his chiseled features and how much he had grown. He had always been attractive, but he was no longer the little boy you used to know, and instead now a fine, young man, in an even finer religious attire. Puberty did him good, you mused.

All at once, a mischievous plan flashed across your mind as you plotted how to win his attention. It would be an entertaining way to pass the time in this mundane institution. Viewing the school uniform as yet another means for the authorities to curb people’s freedom and creative expression, you had a habit of violating the dress code by making minor adjustments to it. Whether it was shortening the hem of your skirt or wearing below the ankle socks, you went for it. And today was no exception.

You waited until it was time to be seated before attempting to catch his gaze. Within a few minutes, he sneaked a peek your way and you stifled a laugh. Bingo. As you continued looking straight at him, you stretched your legs out cautiously, so as not to alert the Mother Superior, who sat beside you, to your antics. His eyes widened and flickered, as you showed off their length, rotating your ankles in small circles languidly. The other altar boys started to take note and whispered in hushed tones amongst themselves. But you only had eyes for Leon, scrutinizing him like a hawk, as you bared your teeth with a sly grin plastered across your face.

It was only a matter of time before the Mother Superior rapped you on the legs with a thin, wooden cane she carried around for doling out such punishments. The other girls in your row giggled as you returned your legs to a respectable position, disregarding the smarting pain that had accompanied the blow.

It was worth it, you reasoned, spotting Leon’s lopsided smile, as he turned away to hide his blush.

This soon carried on like an unspoken game between you and Leon. You’d attend Mass whenever he was serving as an altar boy, and he’d look out for you, exchanging glances like a secret code shared between the two of you. A sense of thrill arose within him each time, as to what you’d try next. If only he knew what you were capable of.

At some point, you grew bolder. During the Holy Communion, where Leon had been helping the priest to hold the patina under the chins of those who received the Sacred host, you made sure once again to make eye contact with him the whole way through. Your mouth was slightly agape, as you extended your tongue, clasping your hands together in a pious prayer position. When the priest placed the host in your mouth, you swallowed it suggestively, licking your upper lip for a finishing touch. Leon nearly stumbled over backwards as his face turned bright red like a tomato. The last thing he heard was your silvery laughter, and you returned to your seat as if nothing had happened. You had ensnared him now.

When Mass ended, you slipped him a note, asking him to meet you at the confessional when everyone else had been ushered out. You knelt in the penitent compartment, waiting for him to arrive, confident that he would show up. A few minutes later, you heard someone enter the booth where the priest usually sat.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” you began. Through the latticed screen, you could just about make out Leon’s face as he chuckled.

“What are you playing at?”

“You tell me,” you challenged, testing the waters. “I haven’t received any complaints.”

“Well, I have a question,” he mentioned quietly. “Do you still remember when we hung out back then? At the tree.”

There was pang in your heart, as you recalled your childhood memories. “Of course, you were the only one who bothered to speak to me.”

You pursed your lips before taking the plunge. “I really appreciated that.”

There was a momentary pause, as he took your words in. “I wish they didn’t separate us.”

“It isn’t too late to start over.” It was humiliating how eager you sounded. No matter how much you tried to repress it, you yearned to rekindle that connection you had with him once.

“Listen, I like you,” he admitted, sighing heavily. “But, I can’t go public with this. My parents-”

“Who says it has to be public?” You retorted defensively.

His heartfelt confession emboldened you, yet a part of you felt dejected that this was the best option he could offer. However, you didn’t want to concede without giving it a shot.

He made a noise which sounded like he was in disbelief. “You mean-”

“Shall I come over and show you?” You interrupted, already getting up before he could answer.

“Y-yeah,” he stammered. “I-I’d like that, I guess.”

Exiting your compartment, you stepped out and swiftly went over to where he was, closing the door behind you. It was crammed and stuffy in this tiny box with two people, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Giving him a once-over, it struck you that he was still in his altar boy attire and perhaps what you were about to do was wrong on so many levels, but you brushed those thoughts aside.

“Um-”

Before he could speak any further, you ran your hands up along his chest and planted your lips onto his, soft and pillowy in texture. He let out a low moan, easing into your embrace as he kissed back, holding onto the back of your head for better leverage. His tongue grazed across your lips and you parted them in response, allowing it to slip inside as you tasted each other. Grabbing the collar of his cassock, you pressed your bodies together heatedly. You sucked on his tongue, eliciting another moan from his throat, as you shuffled him around, pushing his back against the wooden wall with a loud thud. Both of you had lost yourselves in a whirlwind of kisses, oblivious to the outside world and the ruckus you were making.

However, it was hard to ignore the hymn that was being sung when the next Mass started. Leon froze, before pulling away hastily. His mouth was red and swollen, and a pearly string of saliva connected it with yours.

“Shit, we lost track of time,” he panted.

If you didn’t want to be seen, you’d need to remain where you were until the Mass ended. In other words, both of you were trapped here for at least another hour.

Not being one to let such matters ruin the vibe, you responded, “That’s not a problem for me.” Trailing a lone finger down Leon’s body seductively, you let it come to rest above the growing bulge in his cassock.

“Are you serious?” He breathed, as you cupped your hand around it, palming him through his clothes.

“You got a better idea?” You murmured in his ear, squeezing his erection a little as you continued rubbing against it.

“Don’t get me wrong, it feels amazing.” His voice was strained as he spoke. “But, it’s just…”

“Catholic guilt?” You teased.

“Yeah, probably.” He nodded sheepishly.

“Well, maybe if we get you out of this thing.” You gestured to his attire. “You might relax into it more.”

“Makes sense,” he agreed, tugging the surplice over his head and discarding it to the ground. “Though it never really goes away, does it?”

You shrugged, shaking your head. “I still get it, but it’s less of an issue now.” It made you follow up with a question of your own. “Does that mean I’m a bad person?”

His eyes crinkled as he grinned. “You're doing it again.”

“Hm?”

“Guilt,” he indicated. “But to answer your question, no, I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway.” You tried to deflect the topic, knowing the rumors that people spread about you. Leon had probably heard it all. “At least there’s still hope for you.”

“Thanks?”

“Don’t thank me yet.” You winked, removing the sash from his cassock as he unbuttoned the rest of it, revealing a plain white shirt and a pair of shorts underneath.

He snickered as you clucked your tongue at the sight. “What did you expect me to do? Go Commando?”

“Would’ve been hot,” you pointed out.

Leon had always been perceptive. From your interactions, he began to suspect that sometimes you relied on lighthearted banter as a way to mask your nervousness and other underlying emotions.

Nestling his fingers under your chin, he turned you towards him. “You sure about this?”

“Mm hm.” It was sweet of him to check in. Most guys never offered you the same courtesy. “Been thinking about it since Communion,” you added brazenly.

He snorted as you gave him a quick peck on the lips. Working your way down, you kissed his clothed body, pulling the waistband of his underwear and shorts to his ankles. Kneeling before him, you reached for his cock, smearing beads of his precum carelessly along his velvety skin, while you pumped his hot shaft slowly.

He inhaled sharply, snapping his eyes shut, as he tilted his head back in pleasure. In the background, you could hear the priest’s sermon droning on.

With a smug smile, you warned, “Do me a favor and try to keep it down, will you?”

Before he had a chance to react, you filled your mouth with his cock, sliding all the way down its hardened length.

“Jesus,” he groaned.

Instantly, you released it with a pop and tutted in mock disappointment, “Taking the Lord’s name in vain?”

“We’re so going to hell for this,” he laughed faintly, tangling his hands in your hair.

“Ah-” He gasped again, as you held onto the base of his cock, lifting it to flatten your tongue on its underside. Slathering it with saliva, you took his balls into your wet mouth, one at a time, sucking on them delectably. “Fuck!”

“Don’t you ever shut up?” You joked.

“Not if you keep doing what you’re doing, angel.”

Angel. That was a new one. You’d never been called that before, but you liked the sound of it.

Wrapping your lips around his cock, you started a steady rhythm, bobbing your head up and down his shaft. Each time you came up, you flicked your tongue at the tip, licking it as you stared up at him. His eyes flew open, gazing at you with lust and arousal while you sucked him off more vigorously.

Sliding his cock in deeper, you allowed it to hit the back of your throat, causing you to make a guttural noise. Clenching his fist, he bit down hard on his knuckles to stop himself from crying out. If this was hell, he’d stay right here with you. He couldn’t think straight anymore, as he bucked his hips forward in response.

Grabbing his ass, your fingernails left crescent shaped indents on his skin, as you let him fuck your mouth to chase his high. Tears lined your eyelashes and sweat poured down your brow. It had gotten incredibly hot and humid in this enclosed space. But his muted moans only served to turn you on even more. You wondered how perverse and trashy you looked in this position, though Leon could only mumble the opposite in his feverish state.

Soon, he tensed and quivered while hissing through gritted teeth, “God, I’m gonna cum.”

Lady Luck appeared to be on your side, as the congregation were in the middle of singing another hymn, which inadvertently muffled whatever sounds were coming from the confessional. He struggled to hold in his groans as you felt a thick, salty load of his cum wash up against your throat. You choked a bit before swallowing it whole.

Collapsing backwards, you leaned against the cool surface of the seat behind you, wiping the edges of your mouth. Tucking his spent dick back under his clothes, he sank down beside you, kissing you gently and tasting himself on your lips.

“You ok?” He brushed his thumb along your cheek.

You nodded silently and smiled, contemplating if there would be a future to what you had with him now.

“I ruined you,” he jested, showering you with kisses along your jawline.

“As if.” You rolled your eyes, but deep down, you knew it was the truth.

And, just like he had read your mind, he uttered the magic words, “So, when will I see you again?”

━━━━━━━━━━━

Since the encounter at the confessional, you continued your clandestine meetings with Leon, just like back in the old days, except both of you were now wiser in covering your tracks. In public, you pretended not to know each other, yet shared furtive, longing glances when you were in the same vicinity. Sometimes, he would make an excuse to brush past you, his touch ghosting across the curve of your spine, your shoulders, the back of your hand to the tip of your pinkie finger. Away from prying eyes, you hooked up passionately, damning each other further to hell. How many levels were there again? You’d lost count.

You enjoyed the moments spent with him. The aftercare and cuddling. The long talks into the night. You understood each other somehow, it wasn’t like this with other people. So, if the Day of Judgment arrived, why would God not sympathize with you both?

Despite that, neither of you had put a label on where you stood with each other. How did this secret relationship work? If you were found out, would he ditch you like before? Would you be thrown under the bus, so that he could be purified again? It wasn’t long until insecurity reared its ugly head, gnawing at you from within.

Leon sensed something was off as you lay in his arms, naked while he spooned you in the back seat of his car, parked along a desolate dirt path near the forest. You had that pensive look on your face, like you were in a world of your own, one where he couldn’t enter.

Pulling you close to him, he kissed the top of your shoulder, coaxing you out of your reverie. “Wanna talk about it?”

You hummed noncommittally. After a long pause, you asked, “Are you embarrassed by me?”

He was caught off-guard by the question and his breathing stilled. “No,” he argued. “Why would you think that?”

“I’m just tired of hiding,” you sighed. “It’s like I’m making you do something bad.”

There was a brief ache in his chest, as guilt swelled up like a wave. Coward, an inner voice spat.

Carding his fingers through your hair, he pressed his lips against the temple of your head. “You make me feel like the best version of myself.”

“Hm.” You pinched your lips together, wanting to believe him, but you weren’t convinced.

He observed this, but decided not to press the issue any further, knowing that you needed action, not words.

She’ll be your downfall. A surly voice piped up within him, like fire and brimstone. He shook it off, ignoring the moral tug-of-war that had occurred once he made that statement, as he vowed to prove himself to you in the coming days.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The next time you’d agreed to meet was in church, after the very last Mass of the day. He was serving as an altar boy again, and you were intrigued as to whether he had planned to reenact the entire confessional scene or switch it up with something new, like making you go through the Stations of the Cross while fucking you. You giggled at the idea, only to be shushed by a fellow parishioner, whom you had disturbed in meditative prayer.

When Mass ended and everyone except yourself had left the nave, you waited patiently for him in the pews. After a while, you felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around to face Leon, who had changed into his casual clothes. As you got to your feet, he cupped the sides of your face in his hands, closing the distance, and bringing your lips to meet his in a fervent kiss. You were slightly taken aback by his initiation, since he was usually the shyer one out of the two of you.

Claiming your hand in his, he led you to the front, where the altar stood before the austere crucifix that hung from the wall. He smirked, noticing the look of shock and incredulity on your face, as it gradually began to dawn on you what he had in mind. However, he was anxious too, you could tell from the way his hand was trembling. He was sealing his fate, and you were both going down together. Nothing could bring you back after this ultimate act of blasphemy.

At the foot of the altar, he caressed his lips against yours. “I guess God is our witness now.”

Leaning in, you found yourselves consumed in a lip lock, which deepened with each passing second as you helped each other out of your clothes, kicking them off unceremoniously to the side. He spun you around, bending you forward against the smooth, marble top of the altar. The cold surface caused your nipples to harden and goosebumps to form on your skin. You shivered as he spread your legs wider apart and knelt down, holding your thighs as he licked a firm stripe along your silken folds.

As he continued to lap at the sensitive flesh, he brought a hand towards your clit, stroking it softly with his middle finger. You jerked from the sensation, whimpering as he alternated between thrusting his tongue into your heat and suckling it with his lips. There was a slight pressure as you felt one of his fingers sliding into your pussy, already soaked with arousal. At the same time, his tongue trailed up towards your rim, teasing it with long, flat licks.

“Oh my god!” You gasped, gripping the edge of the altar, as an electrifying tingle coursed through your veins.

There was a playful smack on your ass. “Forgotten the Third Commandment already?” Leon scolded.

“Huh?”

“Taking the Lord’s name in vain,” he mimicked your tone from when you had teased him at the confessional.

“Ugh,” you whined. “I’m sure this is the least of our concerns.”

You felt his hot breath against your asshole before he dipped his tongue in lightly. Simultaneously, he pumped your pussy, pushing in another finger and stretching you out, before his tongue went back to circling around your rim, inciting a string of moans from your mouth.

“Feeling good?”

“Mm, yes,” you replied hoarsely. “But when are you going to fuck me?”

He coughed out a laugh at your bluntness, before imparting a piece of unsolicited advice. “Patience is a virtue.”

You groaned at his quip. “Really, Leon? Are you-”

He interrupted rudely, pressing his hand on your back as he entered you, burying his cock deep into your cunt. You nearly screamed in ecstasy as he pounded his hips against your ass repeatedly, already setting a brutal pace from the beginning. Maybe you should’ve been careful of what you wished for.

“What was that again?” He taunted.

You growled, clenching your jaw as you felt his dick dragging against your sensitive walls. The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin echoed across the space. Your mind fogged up in an insatiable haze as you pushed back rhythmically against his thrusting, allowing him to penetrate you further, and taking pleasure in how his head brushed against your cervix with each stroke.

“So close,” you rasped, your core tightening as if it was about to burst.

At this, he pulled away briefly, flipping you over as he lifted you onto the altar top. He had a bruising grip around your thighs, which you wrapped around his waist instinctively, interlocking your ankles behind his back to draw him closer. Bewitched, he took a moment to drink in the divine sight of your flushed, moist body, supple and wanting in his arms, before kissing you sloppily on the mouth. Pressing his forehead against yours, he asserted, “You don’t know what you do to me, angel.”

With that, he rutted into you relentlessly, your breasts bouncing as you clung to the back of his neck, crying out in rapture. When you finally snapped, a glimmer from the gold cross necklace he wore daily flashed before your eyes. You looped your index finger around it, tugging at it as you peered up at the bleeding face of Christ looking down at you ominously from the crucifix. The last remains of the day’s light filtered through the stained glass behind him, casting a kaleidoscope of mottled colors across your bodies, the altar and the stone floor, like a disease.

You realized you had tempted Leon beyond salvation. But in spite of it, he had followed you willingly. This was the proof he had wanted to show you. You were the angel he would desecrate everything for. He’d cut your wings off so you’d be his and stay.

His cock throbbed with desire as he rode you through your orgasm. As he neared the edge, he pulled out, finishing himself off. Nuzzling his face into your neck, he murmured a mixture of curses and professions against your skin, while spurting hot white cum over the mound of your pussy. Holding onto the marbled structure for support, he bent over you, placing tender kisses on your eyes and your lips.

It seemed as if he had turned his back on God and worshiped you now. But instead of a guilty conscience, you felt nothing but love. Silently, both of you cleaned up and got dressed. He delicately reattached the butterfly clip that had come loose in your hair, while you wiped away the lipstick that had smudged onto his face. There would be no signs of what had transpired, except he had another surprise lined up for you.

Upon exiting the church doors, Leon took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours, as you walked out onto the street together. You were his - he’d show you off to the whole damn world without shame.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fluff #religious au #church au #resident evil #porcelainscribbles

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badgyalshii · 1 month

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ITS NEVER OVER

Paul Atreides x Reader (always safe for POCS + Plus size)

1.1k word count i believe?

warnings! spoliers. light fluff. idk if i put language in here,

A/N: i love sad fics n this is my first fic in a longgggg time, i had to crack my knuckles and pop my back a few times for this one, but i hope yall read and enjoy and im so down to write a part two if yall want it or if i feel like it, i basically used to be the cory of tumblr (disappearing for like a month like nun happened😒) have a goodnight, besos😘

about?: immediately after paul offers to take the princess as his wife, your eyebrows furrow in confusion

Access part II here. I . II . III . IV .

Have you gotten stabbed in the chest? Or in the back. You couldn't tell, but you thickly swallowed. Hiding your tears and trying to focus on the fight between Paul and the unknown bald man, named feyd, but you couldn't even focus. Your mouth hung as tears brimmed your eyes, no one was focused on you and you were sure of it, thankfully.

You felt a hand cling onto your elbow giving a light squeeze before you heard a whisper in your ear. “Don't cry. It is only for the current circumstance. He doesn't love her” chani whispered, trying to seem not suspicious as she stood next to you. You looked down in return, a tear dropped. You looked up, and then you looked at paul. He betrayed you. He'd say he'd love you as long as he'd breathe, but where is he now? You had a bad poker face. Everyone knew it, but this was such a heated situation, nobody had time for the crying games. Paul looked at you, it was clear he felt for you, but he had to stay firm, stern.

Chani gave you one more squeeze before letting you loose and watching the fight. The man you loved. The man you took you away from reality to across the universe within one touch from under the sheets. The one who made your heart one, the one you'd share so many memories with. Are they lost now? How could he let you go so easily?

“My heart yearns, y/n” he whispered, the shared couple naked inbetween the sheets and the thin cotton of a blanket. You said nothing but looked him in the eye, drinking him in as his lagoon blue eyes pierced through your own. “We can't both be sensitive, Muad'Dib, you are the chosen. Legends say so '' you whispered against his soft lips as he touched your back softly rubbing over it. “What if it's not what I want?” “does it matter? You've made it so far.” you switch from each of his eyes and put your hands in his hair, soothing him assuringly.

He rubbed his nose against yours, “what if i lose you?” he muttered, breaking eye contact. “As long as we have love, nothing can be lost, paul '' you whispered. Such a desperate moment. Everything was so transparent. You lifted yourself and Paul sighed. “I love you” he said, aloud. “I love you more, so much more”

Did he? Did he mean it, at least. You were so desperate for an answer, but the sound of a stab pierced through your flashback, your breath quickened as fear slapped on your face ever so suddenly. Your chest heaved heavily as you watched, chani pinched you. You tried to maintain your strength as you watched Paul on the floor.

“This your pet?” feyd asked, pointing the dagger at you. Paul looked at you with no emotion. What was going through his head? You didn't know, but even more fear rushed over you as feyd continued closer, a sly smirk played on his face. He could tell that you were something important considering the dried tear across your cheek. “Your pet any important to you?” he still questioned, but paul remained silent. Only got up to continue the fight. You couldn't help but feel eyes on you, and you looked up from the fight to see Paul's new bride staring you down, a questioning look upon her face as she eyed you up and down.

The battle ended, and Paul won. You watched as everyone else bowed before you but you stood standing. Paul looked back at you, before turning away. Chani looked at you from her bowed stance. You remained looking at Paul before your people stood and Paul told them to lead the holy war. The only ones who remained in the room were you, Paul, the emperor, and the princess. “I will be back, stay” he demanded, he didn't use his voice as a command, but he looked back at you, and you were gone, he searched for you as he left the room, only to find you crying and against a wall, hand over your face to hide your tears.

“My love” Paul whispered, quickly pacing and lowered by your side. You only weeped in return, you couldn't even look at him. “y/n” he held onto you. “What have you done? Have I not given my all to you? Must you not love me?” you said through broken cries. “y/n, i love you, i will always for as long as i breathe. This is just protocol-”

“It wasn't necessary, I watched. I've watched you, standing behind you. Who are you? Paul?” you looked up at him. Your face said it all, the tears strolling down your cheeks. His hand remained on your arm and his other hand placed on your cheek. Wiping a tear. “We can't both be sensitive, I am chosen” Paul recites, using your own words against you. You looked at him in disbelief. “Paul” you sniffled, he pressed his bloody forehead against yours and placed both of his hands on the sides of your face, “i love you” you whined, fighting tears and fighting the cry that wanted to leave your lips. “I know, I know, I love you and I will come back for you, will you stay? Must you stay, wait for-”

“Wait for you?” you scoff, choking on your sob. “Are you insane? Wait for you, watch you marry a woman you don't even know, who doesn't even know you. All those times we've pillow talked, stripped naked and not only physically but emotionally. You confessed, paul, you did” you looked at him through your eyelashes. He had nothing to say, his lips remained parted, searching for a way to bring you such needed comfort, but he couldn't. He couldn't support you the way you needed to be, not anymore at least. “no tears? do you feel nothing paul?! i've loved you since the moment i saw you, i told everyone to trust you, give you respect, this is a smack in the face. thank you for wasting my time”

You stood and left Paul where he sat. “You know where I am. I won't be anywhere else. You come to me when you forgive me and when you're ready to talk. I'll love you for a million years, with you by my side or not, I have you in my heart. I place a piece of my heart in your chest too. Must you not deny me, I love our pillow talks, our soften kisses. The way your hair feels between my fingers. I will be here, I will” he finishes, as he watches you walk off. He slowly stood as he watched you look at him before you turned the corner. Not saying a word, but a silent goodbye. as you walked, you could hear a slam against the wall and a curse from pauls lips, but you must go, chani taught you better.

What he said was beautiful. You couldn't deny, but the betrayal stood close in your vision. You met with chani and she pulled you in for a long hug. “It's okay to feel how you feel, but for now, we have places to go” she placed a hand over your heart ¨strong heart, strong mind¨ she spoke in language and placed her pointer finger on your forehead where pauls blood lied. You only nodded and she led the way to the new path of life.

#timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chamalet #timothee x reader #timothee x you #timothee x y/n #timothee chamalet x black!reader #black!reader #paul atreides #paul atredies x reader #paul atredies x black!reader #dune part 2 #i forgot how many tags u can actually add

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semischarmed · 3 months

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Thread

Don’t blame me for this one, you guys voted for something diabolical.

= = = = =

The references were esoteric. In fact, I had to hide my true research from the university, under the guise of reclassifying “ritualistic” items. The irony did not escape me. I was actually looking to access a “ritualistic” item that was classified as mundane.

Legends spoke of a god of flesh. One that manipulates the body as one would manipulate clay. Its name has long since been lost to time, but there are echoes of his work in the myths of old. We often hear of a creator god shaping man from the earth, of half-human hybrids and giants and other such peculiarities. Glimpses of this god of flesh. I had only read into such a figure from a blog by happenstance. A miracle of probability.

I eyed the needle, now in my hand. It was unassuming but carried a supernatural weight to it, like the weight of time immemorial. I grinned, practically moaned as I pricked my finger with the needle.

I expected some sort of magical fanfare, maybe a gust of wind but found none. I stared at my hands and then I noticed it. My hands. My flesh. I could feel all of it. I stared intently as I pinched the skin above my finger, I willed the pleat to hold its shape and smiled. I was ready.

- - - -

I thought through the myths, now partial realities in my head. Though I felt myself brim with power, I knew the drawbacks- there had to be a reason the myths had not made it to present day. The answer appeared in my head. There is only so much one man can do, and being giftedoften made one a target. A word echoed in my head. “Protection”. That did seem to match my records. Humans of old would change their flesh to be stronger, more resilient, adapting to every circumstance thrown at them. But the weakness persisted. One prick to channel the same power as the god of flesh, and another prick locks you from that power again. I smiled to myself. I just needed to get… creative.

Joey Cooper was well-known around the college. A fifth year senior majoring in Sport Science. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he always meant well. He had an air of confidence to him that often aided his statuesque form. Despite this, something else drew my interest even further. His unattainability. The man was often called by his nickname “old faithful,” having been in a relationship with his girlfriend Britney for as long as any can remember. Guys and girls from all walks of life have tried to tempt “Juicy Joe” (A nickname he wasn’t aware of). None of have succeeded.

And then there was Charlie Cooper, his younger brother, a freshman with the face of an angel. He had unattainability in a different sense. Kind eyes and gentle curly locks framed a face that often wore a worried expression. Unlike his brother, he was timid, and a bit reserved. He had a lack of confidence that seemed to be a hindrance to his social life. Charlie would often shied away from conversation, despite others regularly visiting his dorm. Charlie roomed with Joey in the school dorms, a rarity for this campus. I overheard a conversation with Charlie once on this oddity. Beneath his unintelligible mumbling he mentioned something about being “faithful to Brit” and getting Charlie “out of his shell”.

I bit my lip thinking about the prospects.

— - - - - -

“Oh hey Joey!” I waved casually as I approached a Joey returning to his dorm room, face flush and covered in a sheen. He must have just come from the gym. He was consistent with his workouts, so it was no surprise he would still be in campus after finals to get one last pump in.

“Hey dude! Uh, sorry I don’t remember names to well”. He replied back in a friendly manner. I shook my head at that.

“No need to apologize. I don’t think we’ve ever formally met.” He looked back at me expectantly, hand outstretched to greet. I shook it as I continued. “My name’s gonna be Joey too”. He nodded and smiled politely but the man’s face couldn’t hide his visible confusion.

I clung onto the lack of rejection on Joey’s part as an invitation for myself. As he continued into his room, I followed, allowing the door to close behind us. The silence from the near empty dorm was deafening. He turned around, again making a polite smile. “Uh hey again… Joey… can I help you?”

I dropped all pretense, rushing to his bed and taking a whiff. “Fuck dude, you smell so hot”. Everything in the room carried a small sample of his scent. Like a gentle sweaty musk overlaid with his detergent. I looked to the sweaty Joey, inching closer and taking a whiff of his fresh personal scent. Divine. I felt my jaw unlock in a small moan. His post workout scent was like a concentrate of the pleasant musk I smelled before. Like raw testosterone and shallow breaths, and a hint of earthiness that exuded power. Juicy Joe. I was drunk on the scent, mind transfixed, until I caught him staring. He was starting to get upset.

“Hey bro, you should probably lea-“ He froze as he saw me extend a nerve out of my hand, like a red root outstretched into the air. “The fuck?”

He began stepping back but as soon as my nerve landed on his arm, he struggled back into stillness. I smiled in euphoria as I felt every individual root of my vein burrow into his skin and connect with his. Checkmate. He watched as more and more of my nerve rooted into his flesh, screaming as he felt the violation to his sense of touch.

“No one can hear you bro, it’s after finals, remember?” I twirled the needle in front of him before setting it on the table. “Can’t have you taking a shower and removing your natural cologne”. Joey was still frozen as he saw me begin to undress. Juicy Joe had a body brimming with power, and I knew it would burst at any moment. I took care as I undressed, rooting and unrooting my nerves, and making sure to always keep at least one red thread of control on him at all times.

Joey glared as he saw me finish placing my clothes in a neat pile on the floor. “Your turn”.

“What the fuck dude!? What makes you think-“ He was cut off as the red strings bridging our flesh began to writhe. In turn, he felt his meaty arms begin to move, and pull down his compression shorts. The feeling was altogether unfamiliar, as he felt his own flesh betray him and move to my will. I willed him to hand me the soaked shorts. Even with the power of the god of flesh on my side, I could feel Joey struggling for control through sheer willpower alone. I laughed a little in my head. There are other ways to break a man.

I brought his heavenly scented shorts up to my face, gorging myself on the potent raw musk of man. Like a pungent blast of earth and humidity and testosterone. A Joey-concentrate. I could practically feel the potency of it clawing at my nostrils. A sweat-laden Joey reeked in the best way. I must have been lost in pleasure, because my eyes refocused to his pleading face. “P-please man, just stop whatever this is. What do you want?”

I laughed. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s you. I want you. Every part of you.”

A few more nerves shot from my legs, and directly into his. With some new tethers in place, I pulled the threads connecting my arms to his, and quickly slipped under his sweaty workout shirt. I clung to his muscled chest for dear life. ‘Bless these stretchy workout shirts,’ I thought to myself. I felt along the ridges of his spine, across his shoulders which screamed power, and with my hands, I greedily caressed the flesh previously only touched by Britney. I gripped our embrace tighter. Joey was screaming and writhing, soaking the shirt further and my body in his struggle. I moaned as he screamed, as every turn and twist his body made also pushed my chest closer to his, confined by his own workout shirt. I sighed dreamily as his struggle compressed us closer together.

With the power of the needle, I made myself much more malleable and began to slip my arms to into the arm sleeves of his shirt. I spiraled them across his meaty biceps, possessively claiming every square inch of his flesh as my own. I did the same with my legs, wanting to bind us further.

The sight must have been bizarre- two men, naked from the waist down, both in the same sweaty workout shirt. And the smaller man, stretching and wrapping his arms and legs over the other.

“Now for some real fun” I stated, as I shot out as many of my nerves into him as I could. He screamed at the sensory assault as he fell unconscious. I merely continued rooting into him, relishing in being able to feel every inch of Mr. Unattainable. I slowly stumbled our bodies toward his mirror, making sure to have him grab his own phone.

= = = = =

When Joey came to, he saw my head hanging to the side in front of his, and his body enveloped by mine. He panicked when he saw more threads from my face rooted into his neck and mouth. “Fuck Joey, I can feel how strong your lungs are. Even your breaths feel like a top jock” I moaned.

Like raindrops, I felt his tears stream down his cheek and onto my face. “L-Let me go man. Look I’m sorry for whatever I did to you. I swear I don’t remember doing anything.”

I laughed callously. “No need to apologize, bro. You haven’t done anything to me. I just want you all to my own.” I brought his phone up to his face so he could see the name on the call screen. Britney.

“Babe?” She answered. “What’s up?”

“H-HEL-“ He tried to holler. Instead, his neck swelled and throat strained as he my red thread began to writhe.

“Joey? Is everything all right?” She asked in a worried tone.

“Fuck yeah it is,” Joey’s mouth laughed, while his eyes showed fear. I continued to use him as my mouth piece. “You’re so boring, Brit. Just called to tell you it’s over.” Tears began to well in his eyes. I could practically hear the tears in Brit’s eyes over the phone.

“Joey… I. Is something wrong? You never call me Brit. I told you how my dad used to…” She trailed, trying to rationalize the situation.

I continued the puppet show as Joey’s eyes continued pleading with me. “Nothing’s wrong, Babe. In fact, it’s finally all right over here.” He stated with a smile. Joey’s eyes winced at the venom spewing from his mouth.

Joey grunted as he tried to stop his free hand from fondling my ass. “Do you know how many girls and guys wanted in these pants, Brit? Do you know how hard is to always turn someone down. They all want a piece of Juicy Joe.”

“I mean, yeah, I guess you mentioned it once…” She sniffled. “But I thought we were fine” said a choked up Britney.

“Fuck no this isn’t fine. Look at me. I’m a fucking bull.” Joey was forced to say, while sticking his tongue out. I briefly stopped his hand from groping my cheek to force it into a biceps flex. He tried to squirm his head away but was ultimately forced to lick it and moan. I huffed and whispered in his ear. “I bet you taste fucking salty, Joey.”

“Babe, what’s wrong? You never talk about your body that-“

“Brit, just shut the fuck up”. That seemed to shut her up. “Always fucking whining too…” I made Joey huff. The upper half of his head was sobbing now. I forced his free hand back over my ass, and used his other hand to set the call to speaker. “It’s over”.

Joey dropped the phone on the table- still mid call, as I willed his other hand to cup my other cheek. Squeeze. “Fffuuuuck” I moaned. “You’re fucking mine, Joe.” Like his musculature, I commanded my cock into a malleable state, snaking over his, encircling it like a fleshy sleeve. Then, all at once, my red threads of control stirred, as Joey fucked his thick jock dick into my makeshift cocksleeve. “I’m fucking yours”. I made him say. My eyes fluttered in drunken bliss.

“Joey- who is that?”

I felt his head struggle as he tried to stop his body from growing hard. At this, I made sure he had full control of his cock. His plump ass cheeks tightened as his body was forced to thrust into me. I saw him wince, but we both felt the change. Even without me controlling it, his cock stirred to life.

I willed my flesh puppet to answer. “Oh, him? I’ve been fucking him during this call, Brit. That’s how boring you are. Stupid too- we’ve been fucking for months and you never noticed” I make him say it to his reflection as well, topping it with a sleazy grin he never wore. I also made a point to moan, to force him to thrust his hardening dick into me in loud, boisterous grunts. “Fuck. Brit. You. Never. Felt. This. Good”. I make him gasp in between breaths.

“So you’re fucking him, right now?” She asked, now turning to anger.

“Mmph… YES” I let him shout, as I tightened my fleshy trap around his engorged dick and milk his seed dry. To add to the injury, I released control of his mouth at the same time, so in that moment, he felt himself scream bloody pleasure and coat my flesh in his juices.

“YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD TO ME,” Britney shouts, before hanging up.

Perhaps it was due to the pleasure, or the bombardment of his senses, or the sheer perversion of the situation, but Joey’s eyes rolled back to its whites and his head slumped into my shoulder.

I basked in the moment, coated in the sweat and baby batter of Mr. Unattainable. Breathing in sync with his unconscious form. With his head still slung forward, I willed his upright form to give my ass another squeeze. “Take me, bro. I’m your fucking meat puppet. Feel me. Use me. These muscles, this body. It’s all yours. I’m all yours.” I make Joey say. Mr. Unattainable wholly mine.

I kept him upright, facing the mirror without a care for how sore his post-workout body already was. I made sure he stirred awake, to still see himself playing and groping my fleshy form, bonded together supernaturally by the god of meat. He sobbed silently at our union.

With Joey whimpering and broken, I began to retreat into my original form, letting his arms and legs and chest free. All that connected our two naked bodies now was just a single thread of red. But just one thread was all I seemed to need. I no longer felt resistance from his body, as his sullen face just looked to me with defeat.

I made him reiterate my will. “I’m all yours,” Joey mumbles. I puppetted him to close the distance, and pull my back towards his abs. Joey did not resist as body grinded into mine. He clumsily grabbed my head for a sloppy kiss. And once again, I tasted and experienced something only Brit previously had. His tears smeared into my cheek as I started making him kiss me. My eyes fluttered closed as I was in ecstasy. True pleasure. His lips slowly pried mine open, then the tip of his tongue touching mine. In our deranged intimacy, I savored the taste of Joey’s mouth and of his tongue now forced mine. I didn’t want this to end. Joey’s body pulled back from the kiss and began groping itself, repeating his new mantra. “I’m all yours.”

Still repeating his mantra, my eyes locked with his, before he grabbed the needle from the desk and pricked his hand with it. In that instant, I heard the door unlock.

What were the chances? Another miracle of probability. There was a single late final on campus, for an upper div class that freshmen rarely took. And yet, it seemed there was one freshman that did happen to take such a class.

Just my luck.

Charlie.

= = = = =

A two-parter. Could not for the life of me get usable photos of “Joey” in a compression shirt, so you’re gonna have to use a little imagination for that one haha.

#male puppet #male corruption

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sea-lanterns · 6 months

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FRIDAY THE 13TH

synopsis: (slasher! AU) the camp urban legend is real...?!

featuring: raiden ei

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, blood, violence, murder, gory descriptions of death, dru.gging, stalking, mentions of child death, mentions of drowning, slow burn, fing.ering, size kink, fondling, ni.pple play, rough se.x, marking, hickies, pwp, might be ooc.

art credits: chainsaw man

“Legend has it that a camper at Camp Crystal Lake drowned after a couple of counselors left their posts to go make out in their cabins. When the kid drowned, they said her vengeful spirit haunts Camp Crystal Lake, killing horny counselors who abandon their duties to act on their lust, and—”

“Oh shut up, that’s just an urban legend…!”

As your coworkers bickered over the hazy campfire, you speared another marshmallow onto your stick and started roasting the sugary confection in silence. It was the early days of June, cicadas buzzing in the distance as you and a few other adults were hired to work at Camp Crystal Lake as counselors. You were tasked with getting the camp ready before the next group of campers arrived next week, so the camp grounds were mostly empty with the exception of you and your colleagues.

“Hey, hey, you think the legend is real?” One of your friends nudged you, taking a bite out of her s’mores. “Do you think a ghost is really haunting the lake?”

“Of course not.” You chuckled softly, groaning when you saw your marshmallow catch on fire. “It’s probably just a story the owner told us so we don’t abandon our jobs. We’re here to watch the kids, remember? Not have sex with each other.”

“Oh, you’re no fun.” Another guy butts in, smirking and wrapping an arm around you. “The owner isn’t here tonight, so we could all have fun before he gets back.”

You made an annoyed expression when he touched you, slowly prying his arm off and giving him a scowl. “Hands off.” You say with a frown, threatening him to not touch you again.

“Geez, okay…okay…” he quickly retracts his hand, but that arrogant smile is back on his face. “No need to be so bitchy…”

If you could throw a machete at him, you would, but for now all you could do was seethe in silence as you wave your marshmallow around to extinguish the flame. “I think I’m gonna go take a shower,” you say before getting up. “If we stay out any longer, we’ll be drenched in rain. The weather forecast said there was a thunderstorm coming over the area.”

“Yeah yeah…” a lot of your colleagues waved you off and you sighed before packing up your things. No one really listened to what you had to say, and while it did bug you, you knew it would bite them in the ass later when their campfire gets rained on. You left the bustling group to head back to your old, rickety cabin. The camp has definitely seen better days, but you knew better than to complain. So long as you had electricity, some heating, and warm water, you were good to go.

“Ugh…so sticky…” you mumbled to yourself as you scratched at a mosquito bite you had gotten while outside. The sweat and humidity of being out in the woods was starting to get to you, and you couldn’t wait to take a decent shower the moment you stepped into the bathroom.

Slowly slipping out of your clothes, you played around with the water temperatures until it was at the perfect temperature for you to get in. As you did however, you began to hear the light pitter patter of rain outside, chuckling to yourself as you imagined the distraught faces of your coworkers yelling in annoyance. ‘That’ll teach ‘em…’ you thought to yourself, squirting some shampoo into your palm. ‘Maybe next time they’ll listen to me when I say it’s gonna rain.’

You heard the distraught screaming of your coworkers in the distance and sighed with the pleasure of knowing you were right. Combing your hands through your scalp, you hummed to yourself before a particularly loud lightning strike boomed across the camp, startling you a bit as it came so suddenly and knocked all the power out.

‘Bzzzt.’

“…Dammit.”

You let out a sigh and quickly washed your head clean before grabbing a towel to dry yourself off. No way in hell were you going to shower in pitch dark blackness. It’s dangerous and plus, you were a little creeped out with being naked and alone in the dark.

“I swear, this camp is on its last wire…” you groaned, fumbling around for some clothes and putting them on as best as you can. You wanted to make sure some of your colleagues were alright and pushed open the door to your main cabin. “Is everyone okay—”

Your eyes widened when you saw that no one else was in your cabin. Your roommates were nowhere to be seen, and you thought they had gone inside already due to the rain.

“…What the.” You fumbled around towards your backpack and grabbed the spare flashlight you had in there for emergencies. ��Guys? You aren’t back yet?”

You flipped the flashlight on and shone it across the room. There weren’t any traces of your roommates even making it back to the cabin. No wet footprints, no shoes by the door, nothing. “Are they seriously still out there?” You groaned, grabbing one of your raincoats and putting it on. “I swear, if I have to be the one to check the power box…”

You frowned and checked outside the window to see if you could find anyone coming back from the lake. When all you saw were the empty campgrounds however, you started getting a bit worried, wondering if something happened to your colleagues while camping out by the lake.

‘Oh god…did someone get injured?’ You couldn’t help but grow curious and swallow any fear you had left, opening the door to head outside, and see if everyone was alright. The air had gone from humid to wet, as your body was instantly pelted with summer rain that had you wincing slightly in disgust. You just showered, and the feeling of going out in humidity again made your skin crawl with discomfort.

“Just a quick check…and then I’ll go back inside…” Your flashlight helped you see through the dark as you made your way down to the campfire by the beach. The flame was long extinguished by the time you got down there, as the only thing left was rising smoke, and a dozen empty chairs.

“…Guys?” The sight of the empty chairs made your skin crawl, taking note of how everyone’s stuff was still left scattered about. “Oh my god…”

You felt goosebumps litter your arms as you slowly shone your flashlight over the shore. It was dead quiet save for your breathing, and you slowly walked closer to the campsite only to stop dead in your tracks.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to scream so bad you couldn’t believe what you saw was real.

One of your coworkers was lying dead against the shore, her eyes wide open as blood seeped from a wound she acquired on her head. It was a deep, angry red gash that gushed so much blood you couldn’t even recognize her face, some of the rain sliding down her cheeks but unable to wash it fully.

“Oh…god…” you covered your mouth to keep yourself from screaming. Every instinct in your body told you to cry for help, but knowing that there was an active danger on the campgrounds, you decided to keep silent and quickly hid behind a large bush to stay away from the open.

‘Crap…crap…crap…’ you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to will away the traumatic sight of your dead colleague. The image of her lifeless eyes making your stomach churn with anxiety as you took heavy breaths to calm yourself down. ‘This isn’t real…this can’t be real…’

You took another quick glance at the body and cursed yourself for looking once again. Your chest hurt from the fear you felt at that very moment, and you decided you had to call the authorities to the camp right away.

Slowly getting up from your hiding spot, you carefully made your way over to the generator building to see if you could fix the power. Since the power was down, you were unable to call the authorities until it somehow came back up again. Unfortunately for you however, you had no time to wait, and had to go manually check it yourself in order to get help.

‘Why is it always me…’ you winced, hurriedly making your way over to the generators and trying to be as stealthy as possible. After a long trek through the woods, you finally came across the generators’ building in the far back side of the camp, the door cracked open slightly and swaying back and forth in the breeze.

Your heart stopped when you saw that someone had managed to get in, and although the most logical assumption would be that one of your colleagues had gone in to fix the power, you were too scared to check as you wondered if the killer that murdered your friend was in there. ‘I don’t want to take any chances…’ you thought, quickly backing away from the building and deciding to head back to your cabin to barricade yourself in.

Whatever is happening on camp grounds can be dealt with by the police. You had to get yourself somewhere safe, and although you could always try to run for it, the camp was over ten miles away from the nearest town, a distance you couldn’t possibly cover in the dead of night, under the rain, and only in your PJs…

“I just need to hide until morning…or at least until the rain stops…” you mutter to yourself, finding your way back to your cabin and locking it up once you are safe inside. You decided the best course of action would be to barricade all your furniture against the door and check the bathroom window to see if it was locked. Not wasting another second, you ran over to your dresser and pushed your body up against it, slowly pushing it against the door in hopes of providing a stable barricade.

‘Alright, that should be enough for now…’ you wiped the sweat off your brow and walked over to the bathroom door, twisting the knob to check if the windows were locked.

“…What the.” The door didn’t budge as you tried to push the door open, something heavy preventing you from opening the door. “Why won’t you…move—!”

With a bang, you shoved the door open, only to let out a shriek of terror as the body of one of your roommates fell out and landed at your feet. Her head had a nasty gash emitting blood from it, and the smell of iron quickly filled your nostrils which caused you to hunch over in nausea. “Oh…oh my god—!” You immediately backed up away from the sight, only to have your back collide with the front of someone very large and very tall…

Upon feeling someone firm right behind you, your entire body froze as fear paralyzed your brain. You could feel it. Someone behind you, someone who was in your cabin the whole time, as you failed to check all closets for the possibility of someone hiding.

“…Crap.” You let out a small squeak and gasped when the person behind you wrapped a broad arm around your waist, encircling you like the prey you were, and making you feel weak and helpless under their grasp. “…Please don’t hurt me, I…I…”

Your eyes widened when you suddenly felt a wet rag cover your mouth, your throat letting out several muffled screams, as the smell of something foreign entered your nose and knocked you out.

The last thing you felt before you blacked, was the feeling of strong arms hoisting you up into the air, and draping you over someone’s broad shoulders…

You had no idea how much time had passed. Your head was throbbing, and your stomach was doing flips when you finally came to your senses. From what you could feel, you were on some mattress on the ground, located in some abandoned shed, as you realized you were somewhere not in your cabin…

Every inch of your body was sore from the chloroform, your senses all drugged up as you groggily looked around at your surroundings. Your heart nearly stopped when you saw a woman in the corner busy sharpening her machete, her back turned to you as she didn’t notice you waking up from your slumber. You had to get out of here, and if you could somehow sneak by the woman without her noticing, you could try and book it to the next town over, not caring about how long it took.

Taking a shallow breath, you were about to begin sneaking away, when the woman suddenly turned around and made dead eye contact with you.

What the fuck.

Adrenaline coursed through your entire body as you saw the woman’s appearance for the very first time. She was tall, accompanied by an athletic figure that hunched over you in a way that made you feel incredibly weak. What was most noticeable about her however, was the chipped, bloody hockey mask she wore to obscure her identity. Her breathing came out in ragged, heavy pants as she stared at you with the look of a predator ready to take its next prey.

“I…uh…” you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Fingers trembling the longer you stared. “I’m sorry for anything I might’ve done to anger you. I didn’t mean to discover the body…I just…I wanted to be safe…and…”

You squeaked when she leaned closer, her figure towering over yours as you had no choice but to lean back against the bed. She was so, so close, breathing heavily above you as all you could see was her hockey mask and her ridiculously shiny machete. “Ah…I’m sorry…” you meekly said again, tears beginning to spill out of your eyes and leak past your chin. “I don’t want to die now…I didn’t even get to start my job…”

You sniffed and closed your eyes, bracing for the impact of the machete hitting your face, only to grow confused when it never came.

“…Huh?”

Instead, what touched your face was the warm, gentle caress of the killer woman in front of you. Her large, calloused hands moving up to wipe your tears away, as she hushed for you to calm down with that quiet voice of hers.

“…Don’t cry.” She says in a muffled voice, leaning back to grab something from a jar. “Candy.”

She extends her hand out to you and holds out a little wrapped candy for you to take, acting all nonchalant as if she didn’t just brutally massacre your roommate right in front of you.

“…I, uh…”

Sensing your hesitance, the masked woman gently nudged the candy against your cheek. “Candy.” She repeated, tilting her head a little when you didn’t take it. “…Do you not like candy?”

“Oh. Well…” you were growing confused at the escalating conversation, unsure if this was a trick or some kind of ploy to get you to trust her. “…Thank you?”

In the end, you decided to play along and take the candy offered from her hand. Seeing how you accepted her gift, she nodded and reached over to pat your head like a little puppy, clearly happy with the way you allowed her to treat you. Now that you are no longer crying, the masked killer stands up and goes back to sharpening her machete, leaving you alone and puzzling you once more with how gentle she was being in comparison to the other people.

I mean, just a few hours ago she had brutally murdered most —if not all— your coworkers in the camp you were supposed to work at. How is it that she was being so gentle with you now? Was there something special to you that made her become so lenient?

“…” A deft silence overcame the two of you and you had no choice but to look around the shed in curiosity. Noticing a faded newspaper by your feet, you reached down to pick it up and read the blaring headline on the front.

“Kid drowns at Camp Crystal Lake due to negligent counselors.”

Your eyes widen slightly once you read it, your coworker’s faint recalling of the urban legend playing back on your mind.

“A girl identified as Raiden Makoto was found dead after she drowned in Camp Crystal Lake waters. No lifeguards or counselors were seen at the time of the drowning, and she was confirmed dead due to negligence of Camp Crystal Lake staff.”

Besides the text was a faded photo of a young girl with long, purple, braided hair. She smiled so beautifully at the camera, so youthful and innocent. Her death was so abrupt, and you couldn’t help but feel bad as you realized the supposed urban legend was actually true.

…However, the longer you stared at the faded photo, the more you began to realize how similar she looked to the masked woman in front of you. That long, purple, braided hair matched the hair of the woman sharpening her machete, and you swallowed in realization of the discovery you had just made.

“You’re…the kid who drowned all those years ago.” You say softly, looking up at the woman. “You’re Raiden Makoto.”

You could visibly see the woman tense up, slowly turning around to face you. With a few heavy footsteps, she walks over to you once more and shakes her head no, pointing at the girl in the photo.

“My sister.” Is all she says, looking down at you with that solemn expression.

“…Your sister?” Your eyes lit up and you suddenly felt a wave of guilt. “I’m…I’m so sorry for your loss.”

The woman in front of you tilted her head slightly, as if comprehending the fact you actually felt sorry for her. “…It’s okay.” She says calmly, patting your head once more and taking the newspaper from your hands. “I got my revenge.”

Your eyes lit up when she said that, and the pieces slowly fell into place.

“…So, that’s why you’ve been killing my coworkers.” Your breath trembled as full realization came to your senses. “You’ve been killing all the counselors at Camp Crystal Lake…for your sister…”

The masked woman nods slowly and kneels down in front of you so she could be eye level with your face. Your sense of fear was slowly dying down, and you couldn’t help but think the woman was a bit cute with the way she was presenting herself in front of you. “…Is there a reason you haven’t killed me?” You ask softly, keeping a level tone so you wouldn’t startle her.

The woman nods once more, patting your head and lowering her gaze.

“You are nice.” She says calmly, rubbing the top of your head with her palm, “And responsible…and pretty…”

Your cheeks flushed a little when she called you pretty.

“You think I’m pretty?” You asked gently.

The woman nods.

“Oh…” your face burns hotter at the compliment and you couldn’t help but smile slightly. “What’s your name, if I may ask?”

“…Ei.” She says quietly, almost a bit hesitant with the way she paused. “Raiden Ei.”

“Ei…” the way you said her name sent shivers down her spine. The fact that her name was being uttered by a beautiful girl like you was enough to get the killer to swoon. “I like that name.”

Ei looked up at you with the most adoring of eyes. Even though her hockey mask covered up most of her expressions, you could tell you hit a soft spot with the way she looked at you with such loving eyes.

“I like you.” She says calmly, leaning down to stare at you a bit closer, almost towering over you to the point she was pinning you to the bed. “…You are…sweet. Like candy.”

You unconsciously let out a small giggle at her words. Somehow you had forgotten she was an insane, brutal serial killer, but all that melted away with the way she looked at you so lovingly. “Can I…see your face?” You asked tenderly, hesitantly reaching a hand up to caress her blood-stained mask. Ei flinched a little when she felt you reaching for her mask, as she had never let anyone get so close to her without dying. She looked conflicted, silently panicking on what to do as she didn’t want to horrify you with her face and scare you off.

Sensing her hesitance, you smiled comfortingly and cupped her mask. “I won’t judge you,” you say calmly, trying to soothe the woman’s fears and insecurities. “If you aren’t comfortable, I won’t pry it off you.”

As you moved your hand away however, you suddenly felt Ei’s hand wrap around yours, almost begging for you to come back.

“W-Wait…” her voice cracked slightly and she shyly moves your hand back to rest on her mask. “I want…I want to…”

You blush at the way she’s calling for you, shakily moving your other hand to grasp at the back of her mask. Your breathing was quick and shallow, the position between you two a lot more intimate than what you were used to. “O…Okay…”

With a steady hand, you unclasped the back of her hockey mask and watched as it gently fell from her face. A gasp caught itself in your throat, as you admired the slasher’s face in all its bare beauty.

Ei was beautiful.

“You’re…quite the sight,” you chuckle softly, admiring the way her facial features glistened from the window of the shed. “Have you…never seen yourself before?”

Ei shakes her head no.

“That’s a shame.” You smile softly, reaching up to caress the surprisingly soft skin of her cheek. “You’re beautiful.”

Her breath hitches when you call her beautiful, and Ei can’t help but be drawn closer to you with the way you allured her. She had always admired you from afar when she was plotting your coworkers’ downfall, and to have you sitting there right in front of her was just too tempting to resist.

Like a magnet, Ei takes a deep breath before slowly moving in to brush her lips against your face. When she sees you flinch but not back away, she takes it as a sign to keep going, wrapping a strong arm around your waist before slowly inching forward to claim what she desires.

She kisses you. Gently so while keeping you pressed firmly against her body with her strength, almost as if she were scared of letting you go. You were definitely surprised to say the least, the tall woman’s lips pushing roughly against you until you lost balance and fell over onto the bed. As your back hit the soft plushness of the mattress, Ei let out a small groan and climbed on top of you to continue kissing you, sloppily trying to slip her tongue in to taste you, before getting playfully pushed away by your soft little palms.

“Hey, hey…” you chuckled softly, watching as her face scrunched up in confusion. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

Ei bites her lip for a moment and hesitantly shakes her head no, causing you to stifle a laugh from your lips. “Pfft…don’t worry, I’ll show you,” you say reassuringly, holding onto one of her hands and cupping her fingers tenderly. “These are what you’ll be using most of the time when pleasing another woman.” You explain, running your fingers up and down hers. You took notice of how rough and calloused they were from working out in the woods, not to mention how big her fingers were compared to yours, as you couldn’t help but imagine her stuffing each wide digit inside you.

‘That’s gonna need some prep…’ you thought to yourself, slowly moving her hand down so she could cup your breast. “Here. You want to do some foreplay on a woman before doing anything super intimate with her. Foreplay is important, as it— ahh…!”

Ei suddenly gave your breast a squeeze and started fondling it like instinct. If this was her first time being with a woman, you couldn’t tell, because she had already stuffed her hands under your shirt and started fondling you through the confines of your bra.

“Haah…wait—!” You couldn’t help but let out a groan when she eagerly slid her hands under your bra, calloused fingers rubbing harshly against the sensitive buds of your nipples and twisting them in ways that had you gripping at her back. “I think…I can figure it out.” Was all Ei said before smirking down at you with confidence. That facade of acting all cute in front of you now long gone, as she was determined to wreck you on this little mattress of hers.

“W-Wait—! There’s no need to be so ro— mhnnn…!” Your head lolled back in pleasure when Ei suddenly yanked your shirt up and pulled your bra top down. Rough hands engulfing your chest to give it a firm squeeze, and pinning you down to the mattress with little to no effort.

“Can I…Can I keep going?” Ei asks softly, a sharp contrast to the way she was brutally manhandling your tits.

“You…nngh…I guess so…” you pathetically whimpered out, still in shock with how she managed to flip the roles so easily.

At your approval, Ei nods and moves her head down to begin suckling dark hickies all over your stomach, tongue lapping over the smooth surface of your belly and making you whine with how rough she was treating you. It didn’t hurt by any means necessary, but you did feel your mind slowly break into submission for letting Ei use you as she pleased. ‘Crap…she’s so rough…’ you couldn’t help but think, letting out another whine when her hands suddenly gripped your thighs.

“I need…I need more…” you hear Ei groan, practically growling into your ear before tugging at your shorts. “Can I pull them off? Please, please?”

She was almost grunting in your ear with how bad she wanted you, burying her face against your neck like a dog in heat. You couldn’t bring yourself to ever say no to her, so you nodded enthusiastically before cupping her face. “Go ahead, Ei. I’m all yours…just be gentle…”

Oh the look on Ei’s face when you told her you were hers. It was like a primal desire had awakened in her, as she tore off your shorts with little to no effort and hoisted your legs up to saddle around her shoulders. You let out a yelp when you felt her rip your shorts so violently, and you couldn’t help but whine to her since they were your favorite shorts.

“Ei…!”

“I’ll…find you some new ones.”

She was clearly distracted with the way her eyes landed on your panties, licking her lips at the sight before looking up at you for one last request of permission.

“May I…?” She asks quietly, the hunger glowing in her eyes with the way she so desperately wanted to devour you.

“…Of course.” You say softly, taking a breather and lying back against the mattress. “Just promise to go slow, you have wide fingers…”

Ei smiles at this compliment before moving down to slide your panties up until they dangle at the ankle of your leg. Her mouth instantly waters at the sight of your exposed cunt, and she has to stop herself from just plunging her fingers inside you to feel how tight you’d be around her.

‘Slow…’ she has to remind herself, pressing a large thumb over your clit. ‘Slow…’

She catches the way your lips part when she presses over your clit, and Ei can’t help but groan at the sight. She stares at the way your essence begins dripping out of your hole, and the more she plays with you, the more slick your pussy gets while she spreads your lower lips open.

“Pretty…” you head Ei mumble, before gently easing one of her wide fingers inside you. “And t-tight…” She whimpers a little when she feels you squeeze so wonderfully around her, her groans growing more shallow as she eases her way inside of you.

Ei’s fingers were wide, but definitely not as wide as you thought as one finger alone was enough to stretch you pretty far. Your hands were left clinging desperately to the woman’s broad shoulders, taking in sharp breaths to accommodate the large stretch of her giant fingers fucking you raw. “Ei…” you breathed out softly, burying your face into the skin of her neck, “Slower…please…”

Ei couldn’t help but pout a little at your words. Slower? You wanted her to go even slower? She wanted to fuck you as rough as she could, but she understood that a human as delicate as you needed some time to adjust to something of her size.

“Oh…okay…” Ei says softly, going at a much slower pace until she feels you growing more relaxed. “Is this good?”

You let out a few pleasured sighs of ecstasy, and nodded your head to show how good she was making you feel. “Yes, Ei.” You whispered softly, letting out a small moan when the tip of her finger pushed up against a certain spot. “This is good.”

Feeling proud of herself, Ei continues until she feels you are wet enough and decides to push a second finger in to see if you could take two at the same time.

You could. And with the added pressure of a wider girth expanding your walls, you couldn’t help but buckle your knees and cling onto Ei more tightly. “Goodness, Ei,” you breathed out heavily, watching as her thick fingers sunk deep into you with every thrust and bounce, “For someone who hasn’t done this before, you certainly learn quickly…”

Ei smiles proudly when you compliment her sex skills, and decides to push her luck by shoving a third wide finger to see how much you could take.

The moment you feel an added width to your already large pair of fingers, you feel your senses go into overdrive as she begins pounding all three fingers as deep as they could go.

“E-Ei! Ei w-wait—!” You let out a whine as she continues fucking you with no other care in the world. While Ei definitely tried to go as slow as she could to appease your sensitivity, she eventually caved to her own carnal instincts and resorted to fucking you wild like a dog in heat.

“Nngh…hnn…” With each wet thrust, Ei let out a grunt that had you dripping over the mattress, the palm of her hand slapping against your ass, as she brought you closer and closer to your impending orgasm. “Please be close…please…please…”

She moves her fingers harder against your cunt, before feeling you tense up around her fingers and cream all over her hand. The moans you let out were simply delectable, and Ei couldn’t help but groan in her own world of pleasure before pulling her fingers out to have a taste.

As you recover from the intense orgasm you just had, Ei sticks her fingers into her mouth and licks your cum off her digits. The sight of such a tall, dangerous woman seductively sucking your cum off her fingers had you dripping wet once more, whining at the sight of her humming in pleasure before leaning down to kiss you.

“Tasty…” Ei murmurs against your lips, the tall woman gripping your waist and pulling you down so that she was spooning you from behind. “You taste so good…”

You tried catching your breath as she wraps her arms around you and plants sweet kisses against the back of your head. The adrenaline and fatigue of tonight having finally caught up with you as you slowly felt your eyes drift close in the comfort of your new lover’s arms.

“Are you…going to stay with me now…?” Ei asks softly, brushing your hair back and staring at you with the sweetest of eyes. You gazed up at her with a half lidded smile, the deaths of your coworkers no longer a matter to you as you only needed Ei in your life and Ei alone.

“I’ll stay.” You say sleepily, enjoying the way Ei held onto you and snuggled you deeper against her chest. “Don’t worry, I’m not leaving anytime soon.”

Ei smiled at this and took a deep breath, taking in the scent of your recently shampooed hair, before closing her eyes and mumbling.

“Good.”

#raiden ei smut #raiden ei x reader #ei smut #ei x reader #genshin smut #slasher au #genshin x reader #genshin women smut #genshin women x reader #genshin impact imagines

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justpoliteconversations · 2 months

Text

Apple Merchant [BOTW!Link x Isekai!Reader] (Part 2)

For any partnership to work, communication is key.

More self-indulgent trash for the soul.

PART: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

Masterlist

TW: Nothing worth mentioning.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise.

---

It seemed infinitesimal: a single apple missing from the vast pool of resources you'd amassed over the years. Barely a drop in the metaphoric ocean and you'd treated it as such. At first.

A simple miscount, you'd reasoned. Not even you, with your convenient auto-sorting ability nor years of modern schooling, was immune to the inevitably of human error.

Days passed. Nothing much changed. Except that it did.

One mistake was expected. Two was acceptable. But Three? Four? You had your suspicions, but you'd pushed them aside and carried on as usual. Ignoring the cold pit opening in your stomach with each misplaced object. Every inconceivable miscount that only seemed to pile into a whirlwind of inevitability.

It escalated, because of course it would.

When one of your swords disappeared, you ignored the thundering of your heart. When your leftover meat skewers were suddenly two less? You balled your hands in your lap to prevent them from shaking.

Then, a week after the towers rose, your warm doublet vanished right off your back, leaving you suddenly in the plain clothes beneath. You stopped paying attention to the world for a while after, taking deep breaths to ease the tension in your body.

Once able to draw breath more freely, you put on your significantly less warm overshirt and pressed onward. Stopped at the nearest stable (Dueling Peaks, hours off of your intended route), ignored your guard's concerned (annoyed in Adino's case) stares and rented three beds for the night.

It took a long time for sleep to take you, but eventually you succeeded.

When you opened your eyes it was early morning, but still later than you'd usually be up by. The stable master was just starting his day, eating a quick breakfast of eggs and porridge. You should have been gone long before anyone else in the tent had even left their beds.

Your guard, Skims, glanced over at you from his own bed, concern evident on his weathered, weary face. He must have noticed the change in your breathing as you woke. You could see the question in his eyes, the way his brows rose just slightly and his mouth quirked.

You gave him a small shake of the head, a tired smile, and he nodded in understanding before rolling out of bed with a dramatic groan. It pulled a snort from you and you just caught the edge of a satisfied smile at the corner of his lips.

Man needed another raise. Fourth one this year but his loyalty and care was well worth the expense.

With that thought you pulled yourself from bed, fighting against the spring morning chill as you removed the covers from your sleep warmed body. Putting your feet to the ground was misery, and pulling away from the plush bedding a test of your resolve.

Beside you Skims was smirking in his tired way, knowing full well just how deeply the hyrulian cold effected you. His own metabolism kept him damn near toasty in all but the harshest climates, and he took quiet glee in watching you huff and silently whine against the nip of crisp morning air.

You cast a tired eyed glare up at him and he chuckled, knowing what you were thinking. He was right, for the record. You were thinking about how sweet revenge would be the next time you made for Gerudo.

Scratch that. Skims would be all too pleased to be back in that forsaken desert. Would even request a few days off to visit his three (that's right, three) gerudo baby mama's and four daughters.

You didn't think about it too much. It wasn't your business, and as far as you knew, all participants were happy with the arrangement. It wasn't your concern.

You sighed, taking the loss for what it was. Skims, at least, had the grace to not voice it aloud. Though you could feel the smug amusement radiating off of him well enough that it hardly mattered.

"I'll let Adino know we'll be heading for Hateno soon." He offered in the way of a peace offering, and at your nod he slipped out of the stable entryway without another word.

You stared after him, taking in the red-tinted dawn light bathing the world beyond. Stealing yourself against the persistent drafts leaking through the open tent flaps you began to ready yourself for the day.

You wondered if Link was okay. You were glad he had something warm to protect him through the night, even if it was at your expense.

As quickly as they'd come, you pulled away from those thoughts before they could fully take hold. Therein lies the path to lunacy, and bankruptcy.

The man now had access to your entire inventory, and if current happenings had told you anything it was that he had absolutely no qualms in using it. Be that because of his amnesia, his situation, his personality or even a mix of the three, you didn't know. And honestly, it didn't matter. The ending was the same.

Loss of merchandise. Loss of revenue. Perhaps even the loss of your business. All things you'd very much like to avoid.

Once dressed you took a moment to recenter yourself.

The next few days were going to be long and arduous.

---

You'd made it to Hateno without further delay, though you had to travel for two days nonstop to make up for lost time (stopping only to refresh the horses, much to Adino's irritation). By the end of it Skims was looking more weary than usual and Adino (a skinny hyrulian teenager with dark hair and a sour expression) more surly.

You slipped them both a few extra rupees before giving them the week off until further notice and Adino seemed to forgive you a little. Skims had just smiled gratefully, and when Adino had slipped away into the nearest alley, you'd handed Skims another hundred.

The older hyrulian's raised brows was merely answered by a small smile and a shooing motion, to which he huffed a dry laugh and obeyed the dismissal. You returned his backwards wave with one of your own even though he didn't see it. Or maybe he did.

Hard to tell with that man.

After that, you wasted no time in getting back to business. You visited all the stores on the main strip, catching up on the latest news from Pruce and giving him first pick of your more uncommon stock. He was your most valued business partner after all, and the one who gave you your moniker.

You owed him so much for helping you find your feet in those overwhelming early days. He'd put so much time and effort into your integration, bought so many god-damned unnecessary apples because you'd had nothing else to offer.

First pick of the batch was the least you could do in return for his continued kindness.

"There's a new house for sale." Pruce said conversationally, leaning against the counter as he begun picking through his new merchandise.

"Oh?" You'd inquired back politely, not really interested but willing to hear out any bits of information that may one day prove useful to you.

"Yeah. The abandoned one across the old bridge. The council has decided to sell it. If it doesn't go within the month, it's getting demolished."

Something nagged at the back of your mind, but you couldn't pin it down before it slipped away. Instead of dwelling on it, you thanked him for the information and took your leave.

The rest of that afternoon was rather uneventful. You walked the village back roads with quiet nostalgia, gazing up at the newly blossoming apple trees and freshly grown grass with heartfelt fondness. Eventually you passed the budding fields nestled in the far back of the village. Beyond that, the solitary apple tree you'd first been enamored with when you'd first arrived in this world.

And there it stood, seemingly unchanged after five years. Always the early bloomer. And bearer.

You touched the weathered bark gently, letting the rough surface ground you once more in reality. "Hello. You're as magnificant as ever, my friend. May this year be fruitful for you." It was silent as expected, but you leaned your head to the trunk and sent your thanks to it regardless.

Your first lifeline, a silent reminder of everything this world had given you. Even if no one understood, this tree deserved your utmost respect.

You took your time walking back to the village proper, breathing in the fresh, cool air with renewed appreciation. You were reminded once more that this land, these people, this new life had been kind to you.

With the uncertainty of Link's awakening lingering in your mind, you needed that reminder now more than ever.

Feeling lighter than you had in weeks, out of curiosity you took the long way around to inspect the new property for sale. Not that you had any intention of buying, but it wouldn't hurt to look.

It did, in fact, hurt. Like the scene from an overly dramatic psychological thriller, the moment you laid eyes on the house you remembered.

50,000 Rupees. Bolson. Link. The deal.

During your other life, when this had all been just a game, you'd dismissed the initial offer the first time you'd talked to Bolson. He'd then presented a discounted offer of 3000 and some odd amount of wood immediately after.

You'd never taken the first offer. It hadn't been practical for you at the time. You hadn't had the means to make that much rupees in such a short amount of time.

But Link had no limitations this go around.

He had your checkbook at his fingertips and no issue utilizing it.

50,000 rupees.

50 Thousand rupees.

Fifty Thousand rupees.

Fuck...

---

A moblin lumbered about the dense forest in slow, stumbling steps, sniffing at the air in search of its hidden adversary. It snorted, picking up an acorn and huffing at it inquisitively, tossing it away when it gave it no leads.

Hidden in the topmost branches of an elder tree, Link scrolled through his Sheikah slate, unbothered. Not much of anything felt threatening to him in these parts, not with the stash of weaponry and armor sets he'd found in his slate's inventory.

Especially not with the fairies stored away in there. 249 to be exact. Formerly 252.

Not for the first time he wondered who the slate belonged to before him. It most certainly had an owner at some point, if the sheer amount of useful items within it was anything to go by.

Had they died? He hoped not. That didn't seem right to him, though he couldn't pinpoint why he thought this.

Honestly, he didn't know much of anything. He just knew he was happy to have all these useful things waiting for him when he...woke up.

He wasn't sure what he'd have done if he'd started out with nothing. Not even memories of what to do to sustain and better himself.

He pulled a honey candy from the slate and popped it in his mouth as he continued to scroll, ignoring the moblin stomping around the base of the tree. It'd never find him anyway, simple-minded as it was. He hummed in happiness as the sweet treat began to melt on his tongue, ears twitching with delight.

After a time, he eventually made it near the end of the list (pulling some fire chuchu jelly from it) and was about to take care of his unwelcome guest. Until he noticed something off.

Some of the items near the end of the list looked fewer then before. Not just fewer, in fact. Some were gone entirely.

Link tilted his head, bright blue eyes widening with interest, candy held forgotten between his teeth. His breath hitched a bit, something warm and fierce growing rapidly in his chest as he noted more and more discrepancies he'd failed to notice before.

He spit the candy out and it hit the moblin on the head, causing it to growl lowly and whip it's head around in search of its assailant. Link wasn't paying attention to that though. That wasn't important.

At the very end of the inventory list he found a note. A simple slip of paper with his name emblazoned on it with black ink.

His heart begun race at the sight of it.

This was it. Proof that this slate had belonged to someone before. No. That there was someone, right now, who had access to the same technology, was bound to the same destiny.

They knew his name. They knew he was there in the world, and they were reaching out to him.

He wasn't alone. They're alive. They're real.

He was not alone anymore.

He wasted no time in taking the note from the inventory, face lighting up with awe as he took in the contents of the paper.

A dozen fire jellies, a torch and a piece of flint made quick work of the moblin, ripping it apart in a flash of light so suddenly it hadn't even the chance to properly squeal in terror.

Link paid its abruptly silenced death throes no mind. Instead, he jumped from the tree with one powerful leap, snapping his glider open to soar over the valley laid out far below.

He had no time for distractions now. He had to get to Kakariko as soon as possible, find this Impa woman and get directions to Hateno.

The voice in his head would have to wait a little longer. This Calamity guy too. Right now he had more pressing matters.

He needed get to Hateno. Where his new home was. Where their home was.

---

Link,

There is a house waiting for you in Hateno. Present this Proof of Purchase to the Village Council upon arrival.

Be sure to inform me before making any purchases exceeding 10,000 rupees. Use this note system to relay details.

If applicable, forward a list of necessary items and I will precure them for you.

Let's work well together. I look forward to doing business with you.

Your's truly,

---

Must return to the shadows to recharge and recoup. (I lied. I stayed up editing this instead of sleeping. Don't post tired, you make lots of errors.)

#link x reader #link x you #isekai reader #botw link

240 notes · View notes

red-riding-wood · 3 months

Text

Devil, Devil - Part I

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F! Reader

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Summary: The seal of your fate, to a man falsely crowned. And to your devil, your soul was bound.

[Inspired by this request for a jazz/vaudevillian performer and the song Devil, Devil - MICK]

Warnings: Dark!Tommy, dubcon/noncon themes, noncon touching, little bit smutty but full smut in future chapters, stalking/unhealthy obsession, manipulation, blackmail, mentions of domestic abuse, blood, mild choking, mention of prostitution

WC: 5277

It was all because of that damned Peaky devil.

You cursed him for the gaudy pearls strung around your neck, for the corset that pinched your stomach so tight it would be a wonder if you’d be able to hit your lower notes. You cursed him for the waver in your stride every night you stepped onstage, for the heat beneath your skin when that frozen gaze seemed to douse you in fire, for the quiver in your tone when you sang – for you sang from your soul, and your soul trembled in the sights of the blue-eyed Devil.

He’d started arriving for your performances every night, attracting the attention of the dancers and the waitresses, the owner and the local hoodlums, but he paid no mind to any of them but you. He always sat in the second row, shadowed by the establishment’s collection of antiques. He’d light a cigarette and blow a halo for a crown, lurking in the darkness but staring at you from eyes like twin beacons, his pinewood throne framed by the black coat he never relinquished and his sharp features hallowed by the candlelit fires of Hell.

“He’s trouble, that one,” the locals had said. “Managed to turn a backwoods razor gang into an enterprise, but make no mistake; he’s got cursed blood in him. Shelby Company Limited, they call themselves now, but the Peaky Blinders they’ll always be. Thomas fuckin’ Shelby comes up from Birmingham, thinks he owns everything he sees. The Devil, some say; if you’ve crossed paths with him twice, them say it’s too late for you, when the Devil’s set his sights on your soul.”

If he’d truly set his sights on your soul, you wondered why he tormented you like this, why he never said a word but only devoured you with those frigid blue eyes, as if you were all his and you possessed not even a fraction of him. Last you’d checked, legend had it the Devil traded for souls, so what could he possibly think to grant you? The man had brought you nothing but misfortune. It was because of him that tonight you were expected to join the dancers, because your act had been slipping beneath that coldfire gaze and smoke-ring crown. Your manager claimed it was by popular customer request, but you knew better. You were a songbird, not a peacock; while the other girls of your troupe flared their feathered skirts and tasseled corsets, you were an instrument in their symphony. You got up on that stage not because you wanted to show off, but because when you sang, your soul came alive, and amidst the velvety sounds of the trombones and saxes and the lurid displays of flashing colours and lights, you were at peace.

Until he came along and ruined everything.

“I do not run a charity,” your manager had said. “I run a business. And this business, it has an image to maintain. Before our contract ends with this club, we need to show these Londoner pricks that we are not just another travelling circus with cheap whores and fake magic tricks. Nobody is questioning your ability to sing, Y/N. We just think you could be bringing a little… more.”

As you stepped onto the stage that night, and immediately felt yourself impaled by the icy hooks of that piercing gaze, you wondered if the Peaky devil also wanted a little “more”. As if you could give him anything more than what he’d already taken: your soul, your peace.

Your breath came shaky against the microphone as the lights illuminated the stage, blacking out all of the club’s customers except for one. One, whose mouth you could swear quirked into the slightest of smiles around his cigarette, whose gaze roved across your new ensemble like you were a piece of meat. Your corset already hitched your breath in your chest, and anger flared within you, frustration eating at the hollowness of your ribs as your voice came airy and light.

But this rage that had flickered to life inside you, warm and whelming like the oil lamps that cast darting shadows across the white tablecloths, it spurred a growl in your tone that surprised yet thrilled you, and as your nails curled around the microphone, your shoulders carried to the bright of the music, the dark of your tone made you feel like you were something dangerous. That perhaps a devil dwelled beneath your breast as it did the man with the eyes of death.

Feathered wings and headdresses whirled around you as the girls began their choreography, and your heart seemed to escape the heavy constriction of the corset to pound in your throat, your skull, joining the chorus of sounds that resonated deep in your bones. You sidled your hips from side to side, slowly, sensually, the way your dancer friend, Sally, had taught you, your heels beginning to click to the beat of the song.

But your flesh was burning up beneath that icy stare, and sweat prickled at your neck, and though you sang with fury, your voice still felt limited, unable to utilise the full breath of your stomach. Irritation clawed at your buzzing flesh, and your lip curled over your teeth as you attempted to belt your notes.

Damn you, Peaky bastard, you nearly breathed, hating the way his eyes seemed to gleam as you moved your body. He had no damn right to look so smug.

You tried to focus on channeling this frustration into the movements of your body and the snarl of your tone, the pearls along your chest clacking together as you twirled, your head growing dizzy as you battled for breath. It wasn’t the hoots and hollers nor the cat calls that spurred you on, but the icy hooks of the Devil’s gaze. No, he did not look at you like a piece of meat. He looked at you like you were a goddess.

Breaths coming shorter, you yanked at the laces of your corset, your irritation reaching new heights and the incense and music and cheer drowning out the voice in your head that usually kept you from doing anything stupid.

As your corset tumbled to the stage, cold air sweeping across your sweat-dappled flesh, your voice sprang free of its cage, notes pulled deep from your belly and your fury masking the tremble in your tone. The pearls pooled between your breasts, the feathers of the pasties still scratching your flesh but no longer grinding so painfully against the fabric of the corset.

The Blinder’s smirk seemed to fall, jaw clenched, bright eyes darkening and drinking you in between minacious glances at the men in the crowd who cheered, kicked at the tables, shouted obscene comments that were only half-drowned out by the smooth shrill of the trombones. Your lips pulled into a wicked grin round your teeth, and you became lost in the music as you danced and sang, not caring anymore that your breaths were short or that you didn’t hit every note just right. The look on his face made it all worth it.

And as the final notes died in your aching chest and the stage was swept by dark, and the saxes unleashed their final, wailing cry, Sally swept a sheer robe round your shoulders and ushered you from the stage and to the dressing room. Her excitement was contagious as blonde curls bounced over her bedazzled headband and she whispered praises to you, but her words seemed to muddle together as you heard, distinctly, the chanting of your name behind you like a sordid prayer.

---

The muffled notes of piano still hummed past the walls of the dressing room as you applied another coat of cherry red lipstick, a coil of smoke rising from the ash tray beside you and clouding your head as you attempted to filter out the excited chatter of the girls. Sheer gown now fitted properly around your arms, your skin had the chance to breathe without existing under the ogling eyes of the rambunctious men who had been chanting your name.

“I still can’t believe what just happened out there!” Sally’s voice cut through the throng of the rest, mostly because she had leaned over to squeal into your ear. “Did you see that gentleman at the front? His jaw practically dropped along with your corset.” She giggled, and you popped your painted lips, chasing away the smile that threatened their corner. You hadn’t noticed any man in that crowd but the blue-eyed Devil. Those twin blues were practically burned into your skull, so much so that –

You stilled, blood turning to ice in your veins and your heart freezing over in your chest. The lipstick clattered to the desk, causing Sally to jump back with a yelp that if not from her, could’ve only come from a Chihuahua.

Blue eyes stared back at you in the smudged mirror.

A sharp breath filled your lungs as the ice around your heart shattered and it began to beat again, hard, against your ribs, and your head spun from the sudden flood of cigarettes and incense. You could’ve feinted as you stood, whirling on your heel, nails splintering the wooden grain of the desk with how hard they dug in to ground yourself. Your gaze narrowed, and your heart fluttered as you found it was met with the same intensity.

The dressing room fell silent with a hush, and as Thomas Shelby sauntered in, snubbing out his cigarette in the nearest ash tray, a fearful reverence seemed to coagulate in the air, until it became so thick you could scarcely breathe.

A few of the girls darted out behind him as he drew closer to you, smirk playing at his lip and that darkness colliding with the bright of his eyes in a twisted, glittering dance. But he held out a hand before the rest could vanish, even the high-spirited Marla, who seemed dismayed but didn’t challenge him. Though not of a very tall stature, Thomas Shelby was an intimidating man, and it was evident that the name he carried made him untouchable. Your brow furrowed, teeth grinding together as you tried to work out exactly why he didn’t want the girls to leave when it seemed obvious he had come here for you and you alone. And when that icy gaze settled on you again, the bright of it glittering with mischief, and his smirk tugged higher with unmistakable pride and that insufferable smugness, you figured you were beginning to work it out. He wanted to make a statement, and whatever it was he planned, he wanted them to see.

The statement, perhaps, that your soul belonged to him. And only him.

Shoving his hands in the pockets of his trousers, he closed the gap between the two of you with an agonisingly slow stride, as if time revolved around him. The gold chain of his pocket watch glinted in the harsh lights, and you might’ve used the word “dashing” to describe his prim, collared, snow-white shirt, had you not wanted to smear the contents of the ash tray across it out of spite, or perhaps douse his black suit in some of the gold glitter the girls brushed their skin with.

Perhaps, some part of you wanted to print your lipstick along the rose-white flesh of his neck, to match his striking red tie.

Forcing such conflicted, intrusive thoughts from your reeling mind, you cocked your head, glaring at him expectantly.

“Quite the performance.” His voice was not shrill and grating as you had anticipated, but low, rumbling like thunder over a black horizon yet pooling like soft honey between your thighs. “Tell me, songbird, do you usually win the crowd over with such provocative displays?”

Already amazed by his sheer fucking nerve, you stifled a scoff. As if you hadn’t caught him staring, lurking in the shadows of every performance.

“You tell me, Mr. Shelby,” you purred out your words, but cocked a brow in challenge. “To what do I owe such keen interest?”

The bright of his eyes glinted, and his smirk hooked his lip. “You’ve heard of me.”

“Everyone in this city knows your name. It seems to spread like some sort of plague. I’d prefer it never have crawled from the sickening bowels of the Birmingham streets, but... here it is, on my lips.” You rolled your shoulders upward, leaning against the desk, head tilted to one side.

“And yet, you wear it well.” Thomas’ gaze darted to your parted lips, snaked his tongue between his teeth as if to taste the cherry. “Don’t fret, little bird…” He spoke in a hushed baritone that still managed to reverberate through the diminishing space between you, as if the faint hiss of his whisper would mask his words from everyone but you, like clouds gathering over distant thunder. “… you’ll be saying it more often.”

A burning, whiskey-tinged breath fanned your cheeks, stirring the wisps of hair from your face. Tension mounted in the room, the girls turning into porcelain dolls as they held their breaths, but they didn’t exist outside of the threads that pulled taut between you and the Blinder.

He smelled of gunmetal, of old books. Of charcoal and wood smoke. Like blood and hellfire.

“Will I, now? Think you own these lips, is that it? Think you own my body?” You didn’t even need to take a step to bring your figure to his, your breasts brushing his chest through the sheer fabric of your robe, the chain of his pocket watch tickling your stomach.

He smelled of earth, of sacred rituals. Of frankincense and myrrh. Like dug graves and lost religion.

And like a candle, the bright of his eyes was snuffed out by the dark, and the smirk fell from sharp outlines. “You haven’t heard?” he said. “Some say I own everything the light touches…” His fingers brushed your side, the heat of his blood beneath his skin sending cold shivers along your flesh, and you cursed yourself for wishing in that moment, in which his fingers dragged reverently down the curve of your hip, that his touch would burn away the fabric between you. “Some say I own everything the light is too fearful to touch.” The pressure of his touch increased, thumb tracing your navel, and suddenly, his grasp was anything but gentle – possessive, demanding, as his fingers curled between the parting of your thighs and his nails burned against your skin. A breath hissed from your teeth and you swatted his hand away. You were surprised when he returned his thumb to his pocket, his devious smirk reappearing. Could he hear how fast your heart was beating for him, could he smell the lust that brewed beneath your flesh, could he feel the heat that had pooled like poison between your legs?

Did he know that he haunted your dreams? That you could not drift off to sleep anymore without thinking of those soft lips trailing down your sternum, of his teeth leaving bruises across your flesh?

He made you want to be worshipped, and ruined.

“Some say you’re nothing but a Gypsy bastard.” Your voice rose, breathy and high, like a falsetto note. “A false king, with no crown.”

“But a king nonetheless.”

“A devil, the witches say. Have you come to bargain for my soul, Mr. Shelby?” Your voice dipped back into your sensual alto as you regained some vestige of control, forcing your words to rise deep from your fluttering stomach.

“Oh, I’m here for more than your soul,” he breathed, closing the sliver of a gap between the two of you again, backing your spine against the wooden desk until you could’ve sworn blood welled beneath the sheer robe. “I’m here to offer a proposal, little bird. You’re going to sing for me, at the Eden Club. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. It’s far more prestigious than this seedy place. Your pay will be tripled, and you will never know a fabric rougher than silk or taste a wine younger than a lifetime.”

Though his offer would be tempting to most anyone, you did not sing for money. Pride, it came easy to you, and you did not appreciate the condescending way in which he spoke to you, looked at you, breathed in your direction.

“I’m under contract.”

“What, this?” He chuckled, pulling the slip of paper you’d signed a year ago from the deep pocket of his trousers. The material crinkled beneath his fingers, so close you could’ve reached out and grabbed it. But you didn’t. You watched, seething, as he lowered the contract to the candle beside your lipstick, an orange tongue lapping at the corner of the ivory paper, the ink of your signature bleeding into the open flame. Out the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Sally, her shoulders furling inward just as the edge of the paper did before it was swallowed by the flame, the blackened remnants of the contract smudged into the floorboards with the toe of the gang leader’s boot.

“Everyone can be bought with the right price,” he said. “Your boss’s wife, she likes diamonds.”

You shouldn’t have expected any less of your manager. Like most in the entertainment business, he was shrewd, frugal, ruled by greed. The idea of his wife wearing diamonds was laughable; Thomas must have been a bloody saint in her eyes, because the most you had ever seen that man gift her was a silver locket that had been put in lost and found at one of your past gigs. He must’ve sold you out before Thomas could even pull his mafia card. And then milked you for one last performance.

You hated them. You hated them all.

“Well, I will find new work. The crowd seems to love me,” you pointed out, recalling the jealousy you’d seen darken the Devil’s eyes as he’d watched over your performance. Butting shoulders, you moved to stalk past, but a vice grip latched round your forearm and you froze, a puff of startled air escaping your lips as your gaze swung to meet his.

“I haven’t told you my terms,” Thomas said, and if it was out of fear or that devilish itch between your legs that made your body acquiesce, you couldn’t be certain, but damn it all the same. He shoved you back against the desk, fire igniting in his icy eyes as his shoulders pressed to yours, his figure solid against your own, denoting no escape. “So long as you work for me, you will not dance for another man…” He had the courtesy, at least, of releasing those icy hooks from your soul, the sharp line of his jaw brushing a flushed cheek to let his breath pool against your neck as if whispering sweet nothings to a lover. His fingers, ghosting the pulse of your throat. A breath hissed between your teeth and your eyes flared as they dragged down the vulnerable flesh, demonstrating his strength in a squeeze at the base of your throat.

“They so much as look at you, I will personally take their eyes.” A kiss, placed to the crook of your collarbone, like a promise. His lips were as soft as you had imagined, and you half-expected his tongue to be forked like the legends, but it was supple and rounded as it wet your flesh. Your bottom lip caught in your teeth as you stifled a moan, your body betraying you in a slight rut of your hips. A chuckle rumbled against your ear; he knew what he was doing to you, and apparently the feeling was mutual, for the scarcely-clothed heat between your shivering legs brushed against a firmness in his slacks as your hips rolled forward.

“You see…” He paused to inhale your scent, to drink you down like the whiskey on his breath. “I’ve done some research… you like to move around so much because you have a husband, in Sheffield, who very much misses your company.”

The racing tides of heat that rolled beneath your flesh gave way to a cold sweat, and you shuddered, your blood turning once more to ice in your veins. Your heart, stolen from your chest, leaving your lips parted in a gasp. His fingers traced the hollow shell of your ribs, nails digging in where your heart should have been. His, you thought, wretchedly.

When he pulled back to assess your reaction, to witness the fear bloom in your eyes, the smugness was gone from his face, replaced by an intensity, a darkness that seemed to wrap its shadowy tendrils around your soul. His nose brushed yours, and you noticed, for the first time, that his face was freckled. Kisses from God, you’d heard them referred to as once, and if the breath had not been stolen from your lungs, you would’ve chuffed a laugh at the demented irony.

Dark lashes crowned the blue eyes that raked down your chest, his thumb continuing its snaking little path from your heart to the lip of your breast, slipping beneath the fabric of your robe. “A year ago, you spoke with a solicitor about his tendency to… well, overexpress his love.” A jolt rocked your body, accidentally sending your hips back against his, drawing a groan from his chest that managed to be irresistible despite the discomfort of the scar he perfectly traced with his forefinger. Pain exploded beneath the surface of your flesh, as if his fingers was made of glass, like the smashed bottle that had struck your side all those years ago. You shuddered beneath his touch, the alcohol on his breath suddenly foul, and for just a moment, the way the light reflected off his eyes betrayed a sliver of green in seemingly pure blue.

“The solicitor told me that you showed him this – this, that was not his to see. Not his to touch.” Your lashes batted beneath his furious breaths, but you dared not close them, dared not let this man turn into a ghost of your past. To your relief, his fingers retreated from your scar, only to cup your cheek in his palm. “You offered him one night in exchange for freedom, and by morning, he did not honour his word. Do you know what I did to the solicitor?”

Thighs damp with arousal, palms clammy with fear, you trembled, breaking, cracking at your seams. The splinters of the wooden desk pierced your flesh as you sought its support, feeling like your knees might buckle beneath you and somehow knowing that he would catch you, but that that would be worse than falling to the cold ground. Because he wanted you to break, wanted to be the freckled angel who caught you when you fell.

But somewhere, from the shattered remnants of your chest, festered a darkness, a thirst, a satisfaction as you imagined the bloodied face of the man who had tricked you, as you imagined his eyes turned pale, pale as death.

Your pain didn’t break you; it kept you standing, fractured but whole.

“To you, I may be the Devil, but the Devil keeps his bargains.” His thumb swept across the ghost of the kiss he’d left on your skin. “And when you work for me, I will ensure that your darling husband never bothers you again.”

You could not banish the tremble from your limbs, nor the ireful rise and fall of your chest. And when you spoke, your hate, it seemed, was not even for him but for ghosts, “You’re every bit as vile as the rumours say.”

“Oh, I’m worse.” He smiled, almost sweetly. “Much worse.” A clear-blue eye winked, before studying you so intently you wondered if he really could read your thoughts, your sordid desires. Your sins. “But I don’t see disgust in your eyes, little bird. I see intrigue.”

Breathe, you told yourself. Breathe.

You were most at ease when you sang, and in your moment of need, an old melody you’d heard once travelling west came to you, and with it, the curl of your lip into a wicked smirk.

“Cannot buy me, Devil, Devil,” you half-sang, half purred, the notes that found your voice carrying undertones so dark, it almost did not sound like your own.

And in this moment, you found power, in the way his thumb seemed to still against your jaw, in the way his eyes locked to yours, mesmerised, his tongue catching between his teeth. In this moment, at last, he was yours. In this moment, he was just a boy, lured in by a siren song. As the notes died in your throat, his eyes darted to your lips, something softer than lust forming in oceans of melted ice. Your fingers fumbled for the first drawer of the desk, stabilising yourself now on the ivory handle.

And the emotion vanished before you could make sense of it, frozen over by a wall of ice.

“In life or in death, I will take your soul.” His teeth grazed the lobe of your ear, and his hand drifted to your scalp, sinking into the wild locks of your hair. “I will take everything.” Another hand closed around your waist, squeezing your ribs, bunching the fabric of your gown. “It is your choice, little bird. Because, you see, I made certain your husband knows of your infidelity. It’s a great dishonour, to a man of his station. And what sort of things does a man of his station do when he finds himself with a problem like you, eh?” Your chin was pointed sharply up, suspended by two fingers, your lips a hairsbreadth from his own as he stared you down.

“Now, I don’t think your friends will like to see what I’m going to do to you, little bird.” A growl grated the thunder of his tone, and he bit his lip. “I’m going to be a gentleman, and let you decide if you’d like them to give us privacy.”

And gone was the whiskey of his breath, the fire of his touch, the sharpness of his teeth. Thomas Shelby took a step back, smoothing out his waistcoat as if nothing had happened between the two of you. One of the porcelain dolls came alive, skittering back on her shaky heel to make way, but he paid no mind to her. He only awaited your command, as if trying to give you some false sense of control.

The silence that stretched between you was impossibly thick, like gasoline ready to ignite from one heated breath. You remembered to breathe, in, and out. And you began to sing.

“Clever Devil, Devil…”

His eyes narrowed, fixating so intensely on you that you were convinced nothing else existed in this moment beyond your dark melody, your cherry lips, your siren song.

Trembling, behind your back your fingers pulled gently at the drawer handle.

“How quickly do they sell their souls…”

He blinked, slow, enraptured. Yours.

Your fingers clasped the familiar stock of the 1911, flesh kissed by cold metal.

“… for the feast and the promise of gold.”

Time itself fractured; Thomas barely stirred as he watched your lips, your wrathful eyes, your brow sewn by ruthless will. He did not watch the gun you pulled on him, nor did he seem to hear the rack of the slide that split the quiet of the dressing room.

“But Devil… that won’t be me.” Your velvety singing turned to words of steel in your throat, and you glared at him down the sights of your weapon. Only now, did he seem to take notice of it, with a fleeting, unconcerned glance at its gaping black maw. He could have turned it on you, but he didn’t. He just smiled, bright blue eyes shining down a silver-moon barrel to meet yours.

Stepping back, leisurely, fists buried in his pockets, he promised, “I’ll be back, to claim what’s mine.”

Your finger loosened from the trigger yet trembled as the sight of Thomas Shelby disappeared past the doorframe, nothing left of him but the soft thud of his dress shoes down the hall and the ghost of his burning touch on your skin, the dampness on your neck from the promise he’d made you. The shameful cling of the sheer robe to your slicked thighs, the cold sweat that sent shivers of winter, death, and all things barren along your flesh.

For one, gut-twisting moment, all eyes were on you. The suffocating festering of fear, the sickening crawl of disgust, the heart-wrenching trace of reproach all culminated in the air around you, cast to the incense and smoke by bright eyes and slacked jaws, crossed arms and furled shoulders.

And the girls began to scurry from the dressing room, skirts and dresses and tassels streaming behind them like streaks of lightning that followed the rumble of the storm, like rivulets of rain chased by the hurricane.

Marla was among the last to leave, her eyes wary and wild and a sneer curling her lip as her eyes traced up and down your trembling form. Only when she left did you lower your gun, sliding the hammer back in place.

That left two. Sally, and the woman who claimed herself a witch.

“I’m sorry…” you breathed, not knowing what to say. “I’m sorry you had to witness that, I – I had no idea that was going to happen.” Shifting your attention fully to your friend, you reached a tentative hand for Sally, as if to ease her anxiety. Poor thing was shaking like a furled leaf and quiet tears streaked the freckles of her heart-shaped face.

She flinched away, and your heart clenched, hand withdrawing. You set aside your gun, hoping that might settle her nerves. “At least, let me give you this back…” you untied the bedazzled choker from your neck. “It looks like this was our last performance together. Thank you, for lending me it.”

But she sprang back like a jackrabbit when the fabric brushed her knuckles, and she shook her head frantically, tears shaking free of her spidery lashes like dew falling from painted webs. “You can keep it,” she spoke, her tiny voice cracking in her chest. “Just stay away from me.”

Something bitter worked its way into the fracture of your chest, the cruel fist of rejection squeezing the remnants of your shattered heart tight. Your fist curled, hard, around the choker, so hard that when you opened it, the jewels had left red impressions on your palm, and your thanks turned to bitter ash on your tongue as the laces of the choker slipped between your fingers.

The witch, Clementine, watched you from dark eyes always shrouded in an enigma, but today, held the slight trace of unease. A foreboding weight sunk her shoulders, and when she spoke, the raspy tones of her voice were those of lost souls, crying from strangled throats to warn you of something truly grave on the horizon,

“You’re marked. You’re marked by the Devil, you are, girl.”

Your brow furrowed, and the chime of her jangling bracelets seemed to mock you like laughter as she pointed a hooked claw to your loins.

Pawing aside the fabric of your robe, your fingers swiped across the nail marks Thomas had left along your inner thigh, wrathful and red and weeping. Your fingers came away with a veneer of blood, pooling in the rings of your skin like a wax seal.

The seal of your fate, to a man falsely crowned.

And to your devil, your soul was bound.

Part II coming soon!

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sailor-aviator · 3 months

Text

Fool's Fare: Chapter Seven

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Trigger Warning: Post-sex cuddling, Drunkard, Moves made on Reader, Myths/Legends, Flirting, Angry Jake, Arguing, Storm, Some Roughness against Reader, More revelations, Reader feeling used for a brief second.

Word Count: 4.1k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

You suppose you should have felt exposed, pressed against a random building with your shirt torn to pieces.

You didn’t though.

Surprisingly, you felt warm as you settled into the embrace of the man pressed against you, his breaths syncing with every one that you took. The distant sound of general revelry and drinking only helped to soothe you even more, causing you to let out a contented hum as you continued to card your fingers through blond hair gently.

The two of you stayed intertwined for what felt like ages, but was probably just a few minutes. Your overheated skin gave rise to goosebumps as the cool, night air brushed against it in a gentle breeze, a shiver running through you. Jake stirred against you, your reaction to the cold seeming to pull him back from whatever world he had allowed himself to drift into for a moment. He peeked up at you, green eyes studying your face as the two of you stared at one another. His thumbs stroked your hips gently, his head ducking down to place a gentle kiss to the skin between your breasts, and you felt your cheeks heat up at the gesture. He pulled away to shrug off his coat, sliding it around your shoulders as he pulled it securely around your half naked form.

“We should get back,” he sighed, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. His fingers lingered for a moment, eyes searching you for something, but what you didn’t know.

He untangled himself from you completely, pulling the coat around you tighter and fastening it. He gave you one last once over before deciding that you were decent enough to start moving.

The dirt and rocks beneath your feet crunched as the two of you made your way down the deserted streets, the odd figure stumbling in and out of buildings as it became late enough for tavern patrons to crawl their way home after a night of drinking and merriment. Jake kept an arm wrapped around you, hugging you into his side protectively as he eyed every figure that came into sight.

His grip on your waist tightened as a man stumbled into the low lamplight, hand bracing himself against a wooden beam as the contents of his stomach emptied into the dirt at his feet. Jake pushed you behind him as the man looked up at the two of you with hazy eyes, a gaped smile crawling onto his face as he registered your wide-eyed form.

“Wha’s a pretty thing like you doin’ round these parts?” He slurred, trying and failing to straighten up. His gaze left a prickling sensation on your skin, and you subconsciously pressed yourself closer to the captain.

“Don’ be shy, love,” the man continued, lips pulled back in a sneer. “I can show you a good time, ya know. Or at leas’ make it worth your while.”

“You’ll bite that tongue of yours if you know what’s good for you,” Jake snapped, eyes cold as he stared down at the portly man. The man looked up at him, as if just noticing he stood there. One look at the fierce, stone-cold glare that Jake had fixed on his handsome features had the man averting his gaze, stumbling off into the darkness.

Jake let out a sigh as he watched the man disappear into the inky shadows of the slums, the tension in his shoulders only easing a fraction.

“How do you do that?” You asked him. He looked down at you, brow furrowed in confusion as he pressed his lips together.

“What?”

“How do you get people to listen to you?” You studied his face as you continued. “He doesn’t even know who you are, and he still listened.”

“People will do all types of things you tell them to when they’re drunk,” he muttered, pressing on your lower back to usher you along.

“I’m well aware of that fact,” you huffed, rolling your eyes, “but that’s not what that was. How do you get people to listen to you?”

He stopped in his tracks, turning to face you as you stopped next to him. He looked at you for a long, hard minute, emotions indiscernible as he watched you. His hand came up to cup your cheek, his face dropping down to hover just in front of yours, and your eyelids fluttered at the proximity.

“They listen to me,” he murmured, breath sweeping over you in a chuckle as you involuntarily leaned forward, “because they’re afraid of me.”

He lingered for a moment, allowing his words to soak into the charged air between you two before pulling away. The air around you felt cold as he took a few steps forward, stopping once more, looking over his shoulder at you with an arched brow.

“Are you coming?” He asked, the faint hint of a smile tugging on the corner of his lips. You took him in in that moment, golden skin illuminated by the dim lamplight in the faintest traces of a silhouette. Your heart swelled at the sight of him, questioning how any man could look so beautiful in such a squalid setting.

Jake chuckled at your daze, causing you to blink and snap out of the silent reverie you had found yourself in. You took the few paces to stand next to him, the two of you falling into another quiet stroll as the docks came into sight. The sound of the waves crashing against the hull of the ship sent an immediate sense of calm through you, and you let out a sigh as the two of you set foot onto the deck. Jake veered towards the door leading to the cabins, opening the door and gesturing for you to step through. You brushed past him, ignoring the shiver that ran up your spine at being so close to him once more.

You made a beeline for the door leading to your cabin, letting the door swing open with the rock of the ship as you stepped inside and turned back to face the man behind you. Jake braced his hands on the door frame, peering down at you with a boyish grin.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you stated matter-of-factly, causing Jake’s face to morph into an expression of shocked delight, the grin still plastered on his face.

“Is that so?” He hummed, dropping his arms back down to his side and closing the distance between you.

You nodded, and he let out a snort, leaning his face closer to yours.

“You sure about that?” He asked, arching a brow at you as his grin gave way to a devilish smirk. “Think of all the things I could do to you right now, little Guppy.”

The two of you stared at each other for another moment, your eyes roaming over him as he watched you.

“You won’t do anything,” you affirmed, pulling your shoulders back in a bid to seem more confident. Jake’s smirk morphed back into a grin as he snickered, wrapping his pointer finger around your own.

“There are a lot of things I’d like to do to you, Tesoro,” he chuckled, bringing your finger up to his lips and pressing it them gently. Your cheeks warmed at the gesture, and a quiet gasp left your mouth, much to his glee. His lips lingered for a moment before he slowly dragged his finger away, allowing yours to fall. You swallowed thickly, heart racing as you took him in.

He was charming, flirtatious, and downright rakish at times, but there was an edge to the man in front of you that gave you pause. Things that weren’t always so obvious to the casual onlooker. The months you had been a member of the crew, you had seen the man work as hard as any of them. You had seen how he cared for the ones closest to him, had made sure that they had everything the needed. You had seen how he kept a watchful eye on you, making sure you never took on too much work and making sure that none of the other crew members gave you a hard time.

“You’re a good man, Jake Seresin,” you told him, earning a blink of surprise. He looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it, shaking his head with a wry smile. He backed away from you and out the door, eyes never straying from you as he rubbed at his bottom lip.

“You can return my coat tomorrow,” he murmured. “Get some rest.”

And with that he turned and entered his own cabin, the door closing behind him with a muted thump. You stared at the open door for a moment, willing your heartbeat to slow, the skin of your finger still tingling. Slowly, you reached out for the door, swinging it closed until you heard it latch and pressing your forehead against it and closing your eyes. You pulled the coat tighter around you, inhaling the musky, leathery scent and letting out a resigned sigh.

You were no stranger to storms, the cracks of lightning and rolls of thunder soothing you to sleep more times than you could count. It wasn’t always that way, though. No, when you were little, you had been terrified of them, hiding under your covers and willing the violent energy to go away and let you rest in peace.

Whimpers would slip past your lips as you shivered in fear, grasping desperately for any kind of way to ground yourself and tune out the storm. On one such night, you remembered the storm being so violent that you tore out of your bed with a fright and into your parents’ bedroom.

“What is it, little minnow?” Your father had asked you, sleep fading quickly as he took in your trembling form and tear-filled eyes. “What has you so afraid?”

“The storm,” you whispered, throwing yourself into his arms as another rumble of thunder tore through the quiet space.

“Is everything alright?” Your mother had asked, rolling over with concerned eyes as she took in the scene before her. Your father rested a reassuring hand on her side, smiling softly.

“Everything is alright, Pen. Go back to sleep.”

He had turned back to you then, moving to sit at the edge of the bed before hauling you into his arms and through to the living room. Setting you down, he struck a match, lighting a fire that illuminated his weathered face and sending shadows dancing out of sight. He eased into his armchair with a groan, eyes peering over at where you stood with a familiar twinkle as he held his arms out for you.

“C’mere.”

You did as told, allowing him to pull you into his lap, resting your tiny head against his chest and finding comfort in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“The storm is nothing to be frightened by,” he told you, resting his cheek against the top of your head.

“It’s so loud,” you whimpered, pressing closer to him as the storm raged on outside.

“Aye,” he chuckled, patting your back. “That it is. Do you know why that is though?”

“Why, Papa?” You asked, pulling away to look at him.

“A long time ago,” he hummed, peering into the fire, “the sea and the sky were madly in love. They would spend every day together, and it wasn’t long until the land grew jealous of their love.”

“Why was the land jealous, Papa?”

“Because the land was all alone, you see. She wanted the sea all to herself and could not bear the thought of the sky being able to hold him. And so one day, she dragged the sea away, trapping him in her clutches so that the sky could not reach him. She locked him in her embrace, vowing to never let him go.”

“But what about the sky?” You asked, eyes wide and mournful. Your father brushed your hair behind your ear with a small smile.

“The sky tried with all her might to free the sea, but the land’s hold was too strong. And so, in a fit of despair, she wept. She wept so hard that the pieces of the sea that she had fell out of her hold, falling down, down, down.”

“The ocean raged against the land’s hold, reaching for his love and gripping on to any part of her he could hold. They gripped onto each other so tightly for fear of losing one another again. Upon seeing her love, the sky cried out and her joy illuminated the world in flashing light. However, the land was not happy, and so she pulled the sea away, starting a never ending chase. For the most part, the land is able to keep the two separate, however sometimes she grows tired, allowing the sky to catch up and see her love once more. This, little minnow, is why we have storms.”

His words were punctuated by another roll of thunder, but this time you didn’t feel afraid. No, this time you felt sadness. Your brow furrowed as you frowned at the shadows of the rain that passed through the simple window, and you settled back against your father’s chest, thinking about how lonely it must be to have someone you love so close, yet so far out of your reach.

“Papa?”

“Yes, little minnow?”

“You won’t leave me, right?”

“No.”

“And you won’t leave Mama or Bradley either, right?”

“No, little minnow. I’ll always be by your side.”

Placated, you allowed your eyes to close as you drifted off, your father’s voice lulling you to sleep on the sound of a lullaby.

“Oh, the summertime is coming And the trees are sweetly blooming And the wild mountain thyme Grows around the blooming heather

“Will you go, lassie, go? And we'll all go together To pull wild mountain thyme All around the blooming heather Will you go, lassie, go?”

You awoke with a start, momentarily forgetting where you were. The rain pelted against the pains of the windows, the wood of the ship protesting loudly as it bent to the whims of the stormy sea. Shouting could be heard from the deck as the storm raged on, and you looked over towards the other bed to find that Natasha was nowhere in sight.

Striking a match to light the lantern, you dressed quickly, your feet barely in your boots before taking off down the hall and out into the maelstrom.

The rain felt like pellets against your face as you took in the chaos surrounding you. Water splashed onto the deck from all sides, knocking men onto their backs left and right. Lightning cracked above your head as wave after wave came crashing forward, and you grabbed onto the rope lining the walls to keep from slipping.

“You shouldn’t be here!”

You turned to see Javy stomping towards you, figure drenched from the onslaught of rain. He grabbed your forearm, nearly falling as a wave crashed down beside you two. He glared at the water as it receded, turning his gaze back to you.

“He’s not going to like that you’re out here!” He hollered over the deafening noise, jerking his head back towards the cabins. “You should get back inside.”

“I want to help,” you shouted back, watching as a wave took out two of the men, sending them crashing into the side of the deck with two hard thumps. Javy didn’t get a chance to answer as you were yanked out of his grasp, coming face to face with the captain himself. His green eyes blazed with fury as they beheld you, his grip firm as you tried to yank your arm back.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He hissed, leaning forward until he was nose to nose with you. You puffed up your chest, fixing him with a glare that you hoped was even half as intimidating.

“I want to help!” You exclaimed. Jake’s nostrils flared at your words, and he glanced at Javy long enough to signal for him to leave.

“Out of the question,” he snapped, already dragging you back through the door, the silence ringing in your ears as he stomped down the hall towards your cabin. He threw the door open, pushing you inside. You stumbled forward, whipping around to fix him with a murderous gaze.

“Where’s Natasha?” You seethed, knowing the other woman was somewhere being of use, unlike you.

“She’s down in the galley with Bob,” he replied, blocking the doorway with arms crossed over his chest. Water dripped off of him and onto the floor, and it took you focusing on your anger to keep from staring at where his shirt clung to his chest and abdomen, the white material see-through.

“Then let me go help them.”

“You’re staying here, Guppy,” he gritted out, jaw clenched so hard that it was a wonder it didn’t break. “End of discussion.”

“I’m a member of this crew, and-”

“And so you’ll follow your captain’s order,” he spat. “And you’ll stay put until the storm is passed. I can’t have you falling overboard.”

“But-”

“Are you going to stay put,” he seethed, eyes narrowing dangerously, “or am I going to have to lock you in here? Your choice.”

You pursed your lips, fists clenched at your sides as you glared at him. He huffed, letting his arms fall to his sides as he turned to leave.

“Stay. Here,” he warned, pausing to pin you with one last look. You met his gaze, putting as much malice as possible into it, but making no move to defy him. Satisfied, he stocked off down the hall, the door slamming shut behind him.

“Idiot!” You shrieked, tossing your hands up and turning to throw yourself down on the bed. The ship swayed violently through the waves, the rain never letting up. You thought back to the story your father had told you all those years ago, and you wondered if there was any truth to them. A twinge of sadness blossomed in your chest at the idea that, yes, there could be truth to them. Love was kind and gentle by nature, but taken and separated? It was cold and violent. You wondered if you, too, would have the strength and willpower to chase after the one you loved for eternity, caught in an endless cycle of unification and bitter goodbyes.

How could the sky have allowed her love to be taken out from under her very nose? Had the sea left? Or had he been dragged out of her very arms? Had the sky grown too complacent and forgotten that everything could be taken on a single whim?

Hours passed before the rain let up, easing into a tender drizzle against the windowpanes. The blue found only in the dawn of the early morning filtered through the room, casting a calming air that had the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. Your ears perked up at the sound of the door at the end of the hall creaking open before latching shut. Slow, tired footsteps made their way slowly down the hall before stopping in front of your door. Three, quiet raps sounded against the wood of your door and you murmured for them to come in.

The door creaked open slowly to reveal a tired looking Jake leaning against the door frame, his head resting on his forearm as he looked at you. The two of you stared at one another, saying nothing and just content to study the other. Jake pushed off the door frame, stepping into the room while pushing the door closed behind him. He crossed the room slowly, shirking off his coat and tossing it onto a chair by the desk to your right. You had never seen him so tired, weariness rolling off of him in waves.

He kneeled on the bed in front of you, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face into your neck, inhaling deeply before letting out a sigh. Your hands immediately found a home in his hair, scratching at his scalp in a soothing gesture. Though you hadn’t been intimate in the two weeks since your tryst in the alley, you often found yourself in these intimate moments with the handsome captain.

“Why wouldn’t you let me help?” You asked him softly, earning another sigh. Silence stretched between the two of you for a long moment.

“Couldn’t risk it,” he answered finally, thumb stroking up and down your side absentmindedly. “We lost five men to that storm. Had you not been where I knew you’d be safe, I would have lost my mind with worry that you would have joined them.”

“But why does Natasha get to help?” You pressed, lips pursing. “It makes me feel small and useless to be sitting here knowing that I could be doing something to help all of you.”

Neither of you said anything as your words hung in the air. You thought he had fallen asleep against you after a minute, but then his words rang out.

“I lied to you before.”

Your brow furrowed at that. “What do you mean?”

“Do you remember when I told you about the curse,” he began, voice uncharacteristically quiet, “and how part of it is that we find no satisfaction from anyone? Doomed to feel a constant stream of need and desire? How I had not felt a sense of relief in over six years?”

You nodded. “Yes, I remember.”

“I lied,” he said, pressing closer to you. “I felt relief for the first time in six years the moment I touched you on the docks that first day.”

A beat of silence passed as his words hung in the air.

“What?” You breathed, heart skipping a beat at the admission.

“It’s true,” he murmured against your skin, lips sending a shiver up your spine as they brushed over your pulse point. “I feel no effects of the curse when I’m touching you. I remember what it feels like to feel comfortable in my own skin, and what’s more, it’s the same for the others.”

Your head felt heavy at his words. Was that what this was? A way for him to find relief from the curse that had plagued him for all these years? Is that why he decided to keep you around?

“You,” you paused, cursing the way your breath hitched in your throat. Cursing the way you suddenly felt so cheap and used. “You used me?”

Jake jerked back at that, eyes widened in shock as he took in your watery gaze. He lifted a hand to cup your cheek, stroking it tenderly as he shook his head.

“Guppy, no. That’s not what-”

His words were cut off by the sound of shouting on the deck. Footsteps sounded in the hallway, stopping in front of the door.

“Captain, you’re going to want to take a look at this,” Javy called from the other side, voice sounding apprehensive. Jake cursed under his breath, shooting you an apologetic look as he scrambled to his feet. He grabbed his coat from the chair, shrugging it on before ripping the door open.

“What is it?” He asked, sounding none too pleased to be interrupted. Javy quirked an eyebrow, meeting his gaze in a silent challenge before gesturing with his head for the two of you to follow. You followed suit, eyes meeting Bradley’s as you stepped out onto the deck. A mist still hung in the air, clinging to your skin much like the uneasy silence clung to the crew.

Jake followed Javy to the port side of the ship, taking the telescope as it was offered to him. The storm had brought the Hangman to the shores of an unknown peninsula, rocks scattered in the waters leading to shore. Jake peered through the scope, frown deepening as he took in the sight. Lowering his hands, he handed the scope back to Javy, lips pursed in thought.

“What are your orders?” Javy asked, face stoic as he watched the captain. Jake chewed on the inside of his cheek before standing up a little straighter.

“Prepare two of the rowboats. I want you, Bradley, Mickey, and ten men of your choice divided between them,” he commanded, peering around at his crew before settling green eyes on you. “Nat, Reuben, and Bob? You’ll stay here. If we aren’t back by midday, come find us.”

The crew scrambled into action, moving to follow his orders with haste. You didn’t move, waiting for him to order you back to your cabin.

“What about me?” You asked after a moment. Jake’s lips tugged into a smirk as he crossed the distance towards you. His fingers pressed under your chin, tilting your face up to look at him.

“You?” He chuckled. “You’re with me.”

A/N: To the two or three people that read my stories, you are greatly appreciated. Also, I am getting rid of my tag list. If you would like to keep receiving notifications for when I post, please follow @sailoraviator-library and turn on post notifications! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. You can find my stories with their updates on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator.

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roosterforme · 7 months

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The Curveball Part 13 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Molly didn't think life with Bob could get any better. Then their son arrives, and she's proven wrong yet again. She doesn't know what the future holds, but she knows that she wants her family with her for every adventure. And that starts with a trip down a grassy path through some wildflowers.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, swears, pregnancy, smut, 18+

Length: 3900 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story accompanies Batting Practice!)

Check my masterlist for more! The Curveball masterlist

Thank you to @mak-32 and @teacupsandtopgun for the beautiful banners!

With the number of times Bob had to field the question, "So how did you and Molly get engaged?" you would have thought he could answer it by now without blushing. But he couldn't. Not even close.

The only ones who knew what really happened were Nat, Bradley and Molly's sister. Nat kept calling Molly 'a goddamn legend'. Bradley cringed. And Molly's sister just said, "Yeah, that tracks."

But Molly kept those pretty Mrs. Floyd nipple piercings in for him, and he loved her even more for it. Her belly had gotten so big by Valentine's Day, he didn't know how she'd make it all the way to her due date in another four weeks. She looked absolutely exhausted after every shift in the emergency room, and more often than not, she ended up falling asleep on the couch with him after dinner while they watched a murder documentary.

"Mo," he whispered on Friday night after she fell asleep mostly on top of him on the couch, his big hand splayed over her belly. His son was squirming a bit as he stroked her soft skin. She was incredible. His Molly. They hadn't decided exactly when they were going to get married, but she kept talking about wildflower meadows. So he agreed to wait until the summer, after the baby was born.

He had to whisper her name a few times before she jolted awake. "Hmm?" she moaned. "Bobby, I was in the middle of a delicious nap." He kissed her lips when she pouted at him.

"Let's get in bed, Honey," he said softly, pulling her shirt down over her belly. "We have to babysit Ev tomorrow so your sister and Bradley can go out for Valentine's Day."

She smirked at him. "They like to do dirty shit in the Bronco."

Bob just shrugged. "We do dirty stuff in my truck all the time."

She moaned softly as she said, "We sure do, Lieutenant Floyd." Bob's eyes slowly closed as Molly's hand skimmed down his abs and into the waistband on his underwear. "Dirty stuff everywhere. Anything my fiancé wants."

Bob grunted as her small hand wrapped around his cock, and her lips grazed his stubbled jaw. He was getting harder as she stroked him slowly, tongue darting out to taste his neck. "Molly," he moaned, bucking up into her hand as she teased his tip. But she just hummed against him as she jerked him off. And then her hand slowly came to a stop until she was just softly cupping his balls.

And then he heard her soft, even breathing next to his ear, and Bob couldn't help but laugh. She actually fell asleep while she was giving him a handjob. Bob thought for a moment that maybe a less secure man would be insulted, and maybe that's what Molly was used to in the past, but he knew she was beyond tired right now.

He kissed her forehead and gently eased her hand back out from his underwear. "It's bedtime," he whispered, and she jolted awake again.

"No," she said, shaking her head and trying to reach for his cock.

"Yes," he replied with a chuckle as he slid out from under her without being too rough with her bump. "Come on, and I'll rub your back until you fall asleep in bed."

"Mmkay," she agreed, bleary eyed as Bob led her to their bedroom. He helped her get undressed, kneeling in front of her and placing some gentle kisses to her belly like he did every night.

"I love you," he whispered as Molly ran her fingers through his hair. The nightly conversations with his son were something he was definitely going to keep doing after the baby was born. "I can't wait to meet you. We just finished getting your nursery ready. I hope you like baseball, because your Uncle Bradley and I went a little nuts in there."

"That's an understatement," Molly whispered. "They went flipping bananas."

Bob cupped her pretty belly with both of his hands and smiled. "Mommy's right. We did go overboard."

He watched Molly yawn before she said, "It's okay. Everett and Piper will teach him all about baseball." And then she kept yawning, so Bob got her settled into bed with a pillow tucked against her belly. He set his glasses on the nightstand and turned off the lamp. And then he climbed in behind her as the big spoon and kissed the engagement ring she was wearing.

"You wanna talk about baby names?" he asked, rubbing his hand along her side, because he knew it would make her sleepy.

"I only like a handful of names," she replied, and Bob could hear the pout in her voice even though the room was dark.

"Come on, Mo. Literally anything except Everett. Your sister will never forgive you."

"Yeah, but my nephew will think it's funny, and that's almost enough motivation for me to do it."

Bob groaned. "What's your second favorite name?"

It took Molly a few moments, but eventually she said, "I want to name him after you."

"Robert Junior?" he said, already shaking his head. "RJ?" He didn't like it at all.

"No. Your middle name. We can call him Charlie," she mumbled, obviously dozing off.

Now Bob smiled as he kissed his sleeping fiancee on the shoulder. "Charlie Floyd."

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

Since it wasn't a leap year, Molly knew Bob wasn't really getting a birthday. "Still only eight years old," she told him on February twenty eighth. She was straddling his lap on the couch, but her belly was fucking enormous now and always in the way. He didn't seem to mind though as he gently held her and cradled her and the baby. She kissed down his cheek until she got to his lips. "You look terrible for your age."

Bob burst out laughing. "Thanks, Honey. Hoping the kid gets your genetics."

"Call him by his name," she whispered.

"Charlie," Bob said with a smile. There was no room left for Charlie to move around too much, but he always seemed to know when Bob was nearby. He was currently squirming so much, Molly was getting heartburn.

"He just wants his daddy all the time," she said, running her hands slowly over Bob's chest. "I want his daddy all the time, too."

"Yeah?" Bob asked cautiously. It was really difficult to fuck now. Molly was always uncomfortable. But she knew Bob was never going to rush her. So they spent about five minutes getting her propped up on the couch with throw pillows.

"This is a lot of work for you to get some birthday sex, Bobby," she crooned as his erection bumped her repeatedly in the leg while he made sure she was comfortable.

"It's worth it," he replied as he sank into her warm pussy.

"Oh, yeah... definitely worth it," she agreed, rocking back gently to meet his slow thrusts. It was unhurried and perfect, and Bob's big hands wrapped around to her belly made her feel safe.

But later that evening, she knew she had to do something she really didn't want to do. "Bob, it's time," she said solemnly as she stood with her jewelry box in both hands.

"I understand," he whispered, taking it from her and sitting down on their bed. He sighed sadly and watched her pull her shirt over her head followed by her sports bra. And then the pretty Mrs. Floyd piercings had to come out. She almost laughed at the sad look on his face as she put them in her jewelry box and closed the lid.

"They'll be back. I promise."

"I know," he whispered, kissing along both of her breasts and nuzzling her with his nose. She felt like she looked all swollen and misshapen, but he didn't seem to mind as he kissed her everywhere.

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

"You can't be serious right now," Molly groaned the following night as she nibbled on some pizza. Everyone was out for Bob's fake birthday at the usual restaurant. "You're going to Disney World? Without me?!" she asked Everett.

Bob tried not to laugh as his soon to be nephew looked genuinely upset. "Mom, can we bring Aunt Molly with us?" he whispered.

But Molly just laughed and kissed him. "No, this vacation is for you and your parents. Besides, the baby will be too young this summer. I'll come next time."

"How much longer until the baby comes?" Everett asked her looking at her belly hopefully. "This is taking forever."

"Hopefully just a few more days," Bob supplied, offering Molly more pizza. But she hadn't even finished one slice yet, just sipping some apple juice instead.

"No," she told him. "I don't feel great today."

Then Bob noticed the ridiculous grin on Everett's face where he sat perched on Bradley's lap. "I got a new dad. I'm getting my very own cousin, and even an Uncle Bob!"

"You're living your best life, my man," Molly told him. "It's like you planned this all out."

But she really didn't look comfortable at all, and Bob knew she was struggling with fatigue now. So he kissed her cheek, insisted on paying for dinner, and started to herd everyone outside. As soon as he opened the passenger side door of his truck and tried to help her in, she started shaking her head.

"I'm going to throw up," she insisted and started heading for some of the shrubs along the side of the parking lot. "Oh. Oh no."

But she didn't throw up. Her water broke. Bob froze as Molly turned to look at him as she started crying. "I just peed," she whispered.

Then his adrenaline kicked in fully, and he closed the distance to her. "Honey, I think your water broke," he said gently, and she gasped, panic all over her face.

"No," she said, shaking her head more. "I'm not ready."

"I don't think we have much choice," he told her carefully as he guided her back to the truck. Her sister had already left with Bradley and Everett, so he would have to call them once they got to the hospital. But he needed to focus on this first, because Molly was starting to lose it.

"I can't do this. I can't!" she nearly screamed, fighting him as he tried to get her into the truck. Her pink leggings were all wet, and she was scrambling in every direction seemingly at the same time. "I don't want to," she informed him, eyes wide and unsure.

"I'll be with you the whole time," he whispered, kissing her cheek. He was over prepared. He knew that. But he'd been sending Molly around everywhere with her hospital bag which he had packed for her, and it was currently tucked behind the driver's seat. She was as ready as she was going to be whether she wanted to admit it or not.

Once he was finally pulling out of the parking lot with Molly successfully buckled in, Bob felt the panic as well, but he tried to keep his cool. Then suddenly Molly clutched at her belly and loudly groaned, "Shit."

"What?!"

"Is that a contraction?" she asked, gripping at the door handle. "Shit! Fucking hurts!"

When they finally got to the hospital, things had gotten worse. He took her in through the emergency room since that was where she worked. Everyone ran out to watch Bob wheel her inside in a wheelchair. She was gripping the arms and looking back up at him like he was absolutely ruining her day by bringing her here.

"Molly's here!" one of her coworkers yelled.

Molly responded by crying and shouting, "Fuck!" But nobody seemed to think this was unexpected. They just helped Bob along to the elevator and opened all of the necessary doors to get her to the labor and delivery area.

"Thanks," he told them as another nurse let him know he could take Molly into room two. There were new mothers and nurses pushing bassinets around. It was serene. Peaceful. Really one of the loveliest things Bob had ever seen. And he was currently interrupting it by pushing Molly through as she moaned the f-word so loud and so long that nearly everyone was turning to look.

"It's okay, Honey," he promised as he got her into room number two.

"No, Bob!" she shouted. "It is fucking not okay! I feel like I pissed myself. I look like I pissed myself. And Charlie fucking hates me, because it hurts so much!"

She was doubled over, holding her belly. The pain on her face as she had a contraction made Bob reach for her instantly. A tear slid down her cheek, and she whimpered. And then the obscenities flowed.

Bob tried to apologize to all of the nurses as Molly called them 'fucking assfucks', but they didn't seem to mind at all. He did however close the door as her contractions got closer together.

Hours later, after he had called his mom and Molly's sister and told them what was going on, Bob was exhausted. But he knew Molly was much worse off in that department. She was soaked with sweat and was currently glaring at him.

"I hope you're happy, Bob," she growled, eyes flashing. "Your monster cock did this to me. Lulled me into a false sense of sexual bliss. And then your filthy mega sperm took over, and finished the job."

She looked like she wanted to hurt him, and he had to try very hard not to laugh as he held her hand. "I'm sorry, Mo. I'll never do it again," he promised.

Then she started crying. "You'll never fuck me again?"

"That's not what I meant!" he said quickly, but she was already in tears. And she said the word 'cuntbag' so many times in a row while she pushed that he lost count.

"I see the baby," the doctor finally announced after what seemed like days.

"Get it out! Get it fucking out!" Molly screamed, and Bob felt like screaming too. She had such a tight grip on his fingers, he was sure she cracked some bones.

But when she looked at him, clearly scared, he kissed her sweaty forehead and told her he had never been more impressed by anyone in his entire life. And it was the truth. She looked like she was on the verge of passing out when the doctor announced that it was in fact a boy and gave the time of birth. After Charlie was measured and weighed, one of the nurses placed him in Molly's arms.

"I don't know what to do," she whispered, carefully holding him against her chest with one arm and stroking his cheek with her fingers. "I don't know what to do." But her gaze was transfixed on their son, and her lips were softly parted in wonder. Bob could already tell that Charlie was the perfect baby. Little puckered lips and eyes that were fighting to stay open against the bright overhead lights.

"Oh my god," Bob whispered, leaning down to kiss his son. "Molly. He's actually perfect."

Her fingers stroked along his soft skin while Bob held onto one tiny fist. "He actually is."

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

The only problem with the next few months was that they flew by. All of Bob's aviator friends had covered the pickup truck in yellow and black BABY ON BOARD signs the day they took Charlie home from the hospital. Molly thought it was hilarious, but Bob grumbled as he removed all of them.

To Molly's extreme annoyance, Charlie seemed to prefer Bradley over all of their other visitors. Everett was overjoyed every time he got to sit with the baby, and her sister was already helping Molly with literally everything under the sun. But it was Bradley who was able to calm Charlie down and get him to fall asleep on his chest.

"I'm the baby whisperer," he informed everyone every time he had the opportunity.

"You're Uncle Turd," Molly told him, but Bradley just smiled at her. She couldn't be too mean, because she needed his help. He was the one who was supposed to be distracting Bob for an entire day while Molly got her wedding gift for him finished.

She wasn't sure what the two men were going to do after the batting cages, but Molly didn't really care. She had approximately seven hours from the time she dropped Charlie off with her sister to the time she had to be back home. The wedding was in a week, the bodice of her dress was sheer lace, and she wanted the tattoo to be perfect.

After she told her tattoo artist the exact placement she wanted and the colors to use, she sat back in the chair in her bra with her arm over her head. Molly looked down at the stretch marks on her still puffy belly. Instead of talking to Charlie there every night, Bob sat in the nursery for fifteen minutes and chatted while he rocked him to sleep. And then he did any number of sweet or dirty things to her before they fell asleep together for a few precious hours until the baby woke them up.

But Bob never once made her feel like her weird looking belly was an issue for him. And when she brought it up one night with tears threatening behind her eyes, he told her she was more beautiful than anything he could have ever dreamed up. And Bob never lied.

"All finished," the artist said, wiping along her skin with a towel one last time and handing her a mirror.

A big, bold violet. A beautiful, blooming daffodil. And even a small pink rosebud. Bob, Charlie and Bradley. "Looks great."

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

As soon as Molly showed Bob her tattoo, he wrapped her up in his arms. "Gorgeous, Honey," he said, kissing her before examining it a little closer. He ran his fingers along the colorful carnations that were there for her mom and dad, and when he got to the daffodil that she got for Charlier, his fingers froze. There was a small gap between his flower and their son's flower, and when he looked up at Molly she was smiling. "Is it finished now?" he asked cautiously.

She just shrugged. "I'm not sure yet."

Bob would never pressure her to have another child with him. He hadn't really expected to get this lucky in life, let alone feel bold enough to hope for anything more. But that little gap gave him butterflies. Charlie was the sweetest baby in the world, and Bob was obsessed with being a dad. It was his favorite thing. And he wouldn't hesitate to list the condo and find a bigger place if Molly wanted to do this all over again. "You just let me know."

"I will, Coach Cute Daddy."

Bob held her close, knowing they needed to get ready for bed soon. Charlie was still notorious for waking them up at three in the morning to eat, even though he was four months old. Molly kept saying he would probably grow out of it soon, but Bob figured his son loved them so much, he wanted them in the nursery with him.

"Are you ready for Saturday?" he asked, taking his glasses off as Molly climbed into bed.

"Are you asking if I'm ready for the dream wedding that I've spent months planning out? Then yes, I'm ready. All you have to do is show up with the baby, agree to marry me, kiss me, and fuck me. Not all in the wildflower meadow."

Bob kissed along her shoulder as she fell asleep. Molly made him laugh more than he ever had before. And Charlie made him smile more than he ever had before. And by Saturday evening, he'd be married.

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

"I can't believe my wild child of a baby sister is getting married today."

Molly sighed contentedly and said, "To Bob Floyd. The sweet, shy man of my dreams."

Her sister laughed and added, "I don't think Bob was planning on anything like you happening to him."

Molly scoffed as she picked up her bouquet made entirely of gas station flowers. "Anything like me? You mean getting his world rocked and having a kid after being together less than a year? He's lucky."

"He is," she agreed, kissing Molly's cheek. "Now please explain to me why you are getting married with these cheap flowers when there's literally an entire meadow of multicolored poppies and zinnias growing outside?"

Molly pressed her nose to them. "Because Bob picked them up for me last night, and they're my favorite. The other flowers can learn some respect."

"If you say so," she replied, taking Molly by the hand. "As soon as I can give you away, you are one hundred percent Bob's problem." But she was holding tight to Molly's hand, and it sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

Molly walked outside with her sister and started down the grassy path toward the spot where Bob was holding Charlie in the distance. "I will never stop being your problem. And Bradley's problem by proximity."

"Good," her sister whispered, and Molly smiled at her as she cried a little bit. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

And then they walked toward the setting sun past the most beautiful shades of orange, green and yellow Molly could imagine. And it probably wasn't like other weddings, but the best ones weren't.

They stopped so Molly could give hugs and kisses to Bob's parents and the rest of his family. And they stopped so she could get a kiss on the forehead from Bradley. "Love you, turd," she whispered.

"Hey," he said in his raspy voice as she kissed Everett. "You owe me forever for agreeing to coach tee ball with Bob."

"And you owe me forever for letting you marry my sister," she replied easily.

He just nodded thoughtfully. "You're right. We're square."

Molly was laughing as she handed her gas station flowers off to Nat with a hug, and then she was standing in front of Bob and Charlie.

"Hey, Honey," Bob whispered as she took Charlie from his hands so she could hold him for a bit while he napped. She kissed his soft chubby cheek, and his eyes fluttered open before closing again.

Then she met Bob's greenish blue eyes, and he was looking at her like that very first day at tee ball, over a year ago. Like he couldn't believe she was giving him the time of day. She took a step closer to him, and said, "Hey, Coach Cute Glasses. Did you remember your allergy pills?"

"A double dose," he promised. "You ready to marry me?"

"Yes."

Molly held Charlie, and Bob wrapped his strong arm around her waist as they turned toward the sunset. The wedding was short, led by John who married her sister and Bradley last September. And as Molly closed her eyes and kissed Bob at the end of the ceremony, the warmth of the summer evening and the scent of wildflowers washed over her.

The soft nudge of Bob's glasses against her cheek and the way he helped cradle Charlie had Molly leaning in for another kiss. Maybe it would be just the three of them, maybe not. But Molly wanted to take her family on every adventure with her.

"I love you, Cowboy Bob."

Bob smiled and kissed her softly before pressing his lip to Charlie's forehead. "I love you both."

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

Ahhhh! Thanks for joining Molly, Bob and CHARLIE on this little adventure! I'm sure they will have so many more together. You can always peep more details about them if you read Batting Practice (and maybe some future one-shots)! Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who bugged me to make Molly and Bob a thing.

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munv · 1 year

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𝗘𝗠𝗕𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗛𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗕𝗘𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦

Happy Valentine’s Day broskis <33 yes I am a bit late let me rest

Archons x new archon reader!

VENTI doesn’t know what to do with you yet that doesn’t mean he won’t try his best! He’s going to make sure himself that celestia won’t end up corrupting you like the rest. Someone stop this man before he feeds you something he shouldn’t-

Venti would most likely baby you a lot but he is well aware at times you can hold on your own pretty well. Dragging you along with his stupid scandalous plans of drinking alcohol then proceeding to protect you from the abyss order. Venti might be on the weak side but he is smart and not to be underestimated.

Behind that carefree persona is someone who could be just as cunning and secretive. However he wouldn’t do anything that could harm you of course! He’s making sure that he protects you with his body and soul dedicated.

Venti wants you to grow up strong and not someone like him, well..just not the bad side. Not a carefree drunk that can’t pay off their tab everytime they goes to the tavern.

“You will soon grow to understand little windblume!”

ZHONGLI is the oldest amongst the orginal 7 archons so it would only make sense he knows what to do. Zhongli took care of xiao for a while so he would have a basic understanding of what not and to do.

He’s not quite..the best but he’s more experienced than you may think. So when he had first stumbled upon you it was quite a scare already realizing where you came from. In his free times he would talk to you about tales of old or new adventures he encounters everyday. He notices how you listen very intently with visible stars in your eyes so naturally it comes to his attention you will possibly to be a wanderer (ayo scaramouche reference??).

He already has adoption papers not even a week after taking you in so don’t ask about it! He always has his connections to pull some strings. Zhongli is a different person when protecting you though, archons help whoever thought it was a “good” idea to mess with you in the first place. Legend has it..they never lived to tell the tale.He often brings you to yunjins shows or even third-round knockout.

“What story would you like to hear today friend?”

EI isn’t..entirely clueless I would suppose? She took care of scaramouche for a while before setting him free but overall she doesn’t really know what she’s doing. This is when yae miko steps in to help out a but since she would have more knowledge on these type of stuff. She likes to tease you but not to the point that it embarasses you too much. It brings joy to Ei knowing you are at least doing well but still being clueless she tends to distance herself from you not knowing that you crave for her attention. One day you have to come up to her yourself and explain you don’t appreciate her avoiding you with the most upset face she’s seen on you.

Taking this into consideration she tends to spend more time with you. Sometimes you catch her buying a bunch fo snacks just so she can share them with you later. Ei tends to have this overprotective side of her since you remind her of her sister a bit. So don’t be surprised if she won’t even let guards near you at times.

She spoils you rotten just like zhongli. She catches you eyeing something while taking a walk? Next thing you know it’s in your bedroom. Want some cake? Just make sure to share a slice! Ei makes sure to train you with your desired weapon as to you have at least some knowldege on how to protect yourself in her abscene!

“Little one, what is it you desire?”

NAHIDA can relate to your situation a bit since you both are still new to the archon thing. She’s only 500 or so years old and that’s pretty young in terms of archon years. She makes sure you didn’t experience the same thing she did. Treating you with a bunch of love and care as well! She is well aware of peoples feelings and understand them well than most of the archons can so that gives her a huge advantage. Nahida brings you around with her on daily strolls so you can interact with people not to mention understand human feelings. Nahida is still a archon and has duties so sometimes she would leave you with al-haitham or scaramoche. She trusts him enough to even hand you out of all people- well not people your a archon but yknow the point still stands.

She is still a free type of person though so expect a lot of innocent mischief. Mind reading, pretending to be others, that type of stuff. She wants to teach you to have fun in a way that isn’t harmful to others around you and i’d like to say Nahida is doing a very well job at it too.

“Let’s go to the market today!”

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002yb · 3 months

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Oh, but Talon!Dick and priest!Jason

Dick is overthinking about how he is corrupting Jason, that poor innocent and pure priest

Jason just thinks his slowburn with the hot bird man is burning too slow, he want to do more than hold hands and chaste kisses

Catholic guilt has got nothing on this man. Father Todd? The thirstiest of priests. The visual of this man sitting on the stone steps leading up to his church, all dressed in his priestly vestments while chain smoking and bouncing his heel in agitation because this wonderful fucking monstrous abomination won't fuck him is so ahhhhahaha.

Just a series where Jason is so ready to give his life over to sin and depravity for this night terror monster, but it'd seem while God might be forgiving, the devil Jason's ready to kneel for is not. The irony.

There's so much blasphemy below the cut.

(๑/////๑ " )

The tradition of lighting a candle to represent a prayer? Jason lights all of them. Call it an SOS. A beacon to father, son, holy spirit - Jason is begging.

Talon appearing from out of nowhere and snuffing candles (Jason's prayers to get down and dirty) and Jason just stares, jaw dropped and wide eyed because 1) this is God's will enacted in such a vicious way and 2) Talon hasn't got a damn clue

Poor guy just thinks he's helping reduce Jason's risk of death by fire, but also? He's saving his own eyes because it is bright

More thoughts and shenanigans:

The first time Talon sees Jason, Jason is praying. Sat in one of the pews, rosary in hand and with the diffused colors of stained glass slanting over his skin - a touch of moonlight; something soft in the night

It complements the first time Jason sees Talon - standing before the alter. Contemplating it. Trying to bathe in that same light that made Jason something holy, only Talon feels nothing. Too tainted. Too wretched.

Only where Talon hid when Jason looked up into the rafters or into the dark shadows of the church's architecture where Talon was, Jason doesn't. It's a profession thing, of course, but also? It's Jason. He sees someone hurting - he goes to them.

Which leads to a scuffle with Talon getting Jason pinned down against the alter, hand around his throat and drawing blood and he flinches because it's Jason - bathed in moonlit glass again, pure and good and Talon falters

Which Jason takes advantage of, because he might be a holy man but he's no schmuck, thanks. So he flips them off the alter and pins Talon to the floor, wild-eyed and with bared teeth. Not so much to intimidate, but because Jason renounces violence but still finds some thrill in a fight

So it's just them. Jason in his black priest robes sat smugly atop Talon, one of Gotham's more horrific legends. One foot pinning Talon's bicep, the other his wrist.

But Jason saw it in the way Talon reacted to his own violence - it wasn't intentional. It was a learned reaction, of which Jason has many; he can't judge.

That doesn't stop him from getting cheeky with it (with teasing Talon for spooking him). In that same vein, it doesn't stop him from getting a little freaky, either (inviting Talon for some wine).

That's exaggerated. Jason would probably take care of Talon, first. Which would genuinely spook Talon. Who would repeatedly come back and Jason would accommodate. Just a slow crawl, slowburn romance that reaches a head when an injured Talon comes to Jason bleeding and in need of help and yeah

And more:

Where during the will-they-won't-they stage where Jason is desperation incarnate, Jason hides out in the confessional booth to breathe because he wants Talon so damn bad and Talon just won't.

And Jason knowing it's not a matter of not wanting to, just that Talon...can't, or something along those lines.

Talon sitting in the opposite booth, only a thin partition to separate them. Him knowing that he's upset Jason because Jason's been huffing and puffing about being teased for too long and being frustrated and Talon is sheltered, but with Jason he's quick to understand the meaning of wanton - it's Jason.

Jason scoffing because Talon has nothing to ask forgiveness for, go away

But Talon stays because: 'not yet.'

Which, oh?

Then they talk about where Talon is with everything. And it's such a heartfelt, romantic and tender sentiment. Loving and reverent that even when Talon parts for the night (or as dawn approaches), Jason stays in the confessional. Head in his hands to hide how he blushes.

Because from Talon's perspective, there's no cleansing a soul like his. He's something damned, something ruined.

Misguided. He's someone who's been hurt. He's someone who's hurting.

'That's why you won't touch me?'

'It would be sacrilegious.' Because for Talon, Jason is sacred.

Vaguely related, but Talon refusing to let Jason be a lamb that bleeds for him. Jason and Talon having extensive arguments discussions about how God isn't that way, how Jesus paid that price, how with faith something something etc etc. Basically, Talon not understanding religion or faith. But also? Finding some sort of religion/faith in Jason??

This reply is lengthy, so parting notes on shenanigans and tomfoolery:

Talon flipping up Jason's priests robes out of curiosity one day and Jason startling and flustering so bad. Of course he's got pants on, but omg wtf

Jason preparing for communion. Wine? Check. Tiny breads/crackers? Che- no? Jason scrambling around because he knows they're somewhere. And that's when Talon shows up out of nowhere beside him, munching on the metaphorical body of Jesus fuuuuuuuuccc---

Similar to the above, but Talon fucking around with the vestibule/holy water. Only it's something that no one can get mad at because Talon like - brings birds to it for a bird bath or something and it's cute

Tbh forgot this was initially a post about thirsty Father Todd, whoops. Just to round it out though, something something Jason laying back on a pew and pulling Talon over him. Being crowded in that narrow space, but Jason shivering in delight as they fool around (it doesn't get far, of course lol). Jason getting all breathless because his collar is too tight and Talon stripping Jason down, just undoing the collar and robe and spanning his hand beneath it. Pffft Jason thinking he's going to get his tit fondled, but Talon's really just feeling Jason's heartbeat.

Also, were this a horror/mystery story:

Talon listening in on confessionals and carrying out kills according to how he knows Jason feels about them

#dickjay #jaydick #father todd #talon!dick

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fandomnsfw · 1 year

Text

A Gift From Thor - Ivar the Boneless x Reader

(Outfit and hair from this imagine!)

Pairing: Ivar the Boneless x Reader

Prompt: Saved by Lennon Stella and my lack of votes from my deleted poll 😂 sad times man

Description: You are a Viking healer, who travels the world to learn all healing techniques. After an unfortunate tumble from a ship you get lost at sea. As Valhalla becomes more certain you pray to Thor for love and boy does he deliver.

Warning: None really apart from use of a few dirty words for a Manhood.😂

********

“Please don’t let me die here Thor.” You pleaded towards the sky before going under again trying to not swallow anymore water.

When you came back up you realised the storm was spreading around you. You let tears fall down your face as you decided to float on your back for a while. You stared up at the sky suddenly feeling very tired. You tried to fight it but you had been out here for too long.

You knew you wouldn’t survive this despite praying to Thor so you let yourself slip your eyes shut. You hated that you had yet to do so much with your life. You didn’t regret much but you did have one regret swimming through your head as you felt your body slip into unconsciousness.

‘Please let me fall in love once before you take me to Valhalla.’

“Wake up woman! Come on!” You heard someone scream as your body was being shaken. You let your eyes flicker open and the first thing you saw was blue. You thought it was the sea for a second but then realised it was someone’s eyes.

You shot up and backed into a corner anxiously as you looked around the boat your were on. The Vikings on the boat were staring at you curiously as you assessed your dripping wet clothes. You were only in a white night gown which was wet enough to see through making you cross your arms to cover yourself as you curled into a ball.

“What is your name?” The blue eyed man asked with a small glare.

“Y-Y/N.” You stuttered as a cold gust of wind swept over you.

“I am King Ivar.” You stared into his blue eyes and handsome appearance before looking towards the sky with a laugh. Thor couldn’t be serious you thought humorously.

“King Ivar the Boneless.” You chuckled as you shot him a sweet smile. The ruthless Viking that killed his own brother in anger, conquered England and Kattegat.

“You’ve heard of me.” Ivar snorted before staring you down as if trying to read you.

“Yes the ruthless Viking Ivar the Boneless you are a legend. I also know a lot about your condition.” You muttered pointing to his legs.

“I used to treat someone with the same problem.” You whispered softly with a polite smile.

“So you’re a healer?” He asked with a glare almost like he didn’t wish to talk about his illness.

“I have traveled the world learning every kind of healing knowledge I could. My goal was to be the best healer in the world. But it appears Thor has made my fate known.” You chuckled as you recalled your prayer to Thor.

“And what fate would that be?” Ivar asked curiously as he moved closer to you.

“I think I am here to take care of you.” You muttered shyly as you avoided his eyes.

“Maybe you are right. We’re almost at Kattegat, get some rest.” Ivar snorted before throwing his own furs over you as well.

He didn’t say anything and you chose to just accept the unusual kindness with a smile as you drifted off to sleep. You barely registered when your head leaned onto his shoulder but he made no move to remove you so you fell into a peaceful sleep.

Ivar watched you as you slept thinking about how beautiful you were and kind. You hadn’t even been scared of him when you found out who he was and that made him more curious about what kind of woman you were.

He also justified his fascination of you by telling himself you were a healer and could help him manage his pain, but he knew that was a lie. He wanted to get to know you. Find out everything about you and maybe even test your loyalty to him.

Once you had arrived at Kattegat Ivar shook your shoulder gently, rousing you from your slumber. You stood up before bending down to help Ivar stand with the help of his crutch. He gave you a nod before being lifted off the boat.

You followed closely behind as he walked to what you guess was his throne room. He smashed the door open startling the people inside of the room and he was approached by 3 men who looked at him with various emotions.

“Brother thank the gods your finally back.” The one with the same piercing blue eyes said as he approached Ivar with a hug.

“Yes and it appears the gods may favour this young woman here too.” He chuckled as he guided you by you hand to stand in front of him.

“This is Y/N she’s a healer that has traveled the world.” He explained slowly and his brothers looked you up and down. There was a small amount of lust in each of the brothers face which made you step back into Ivar’s space so you were stood in front of him your back pressed against his chest.

“Get your eyes off her brothers she not a slave she’s a free woman who will be my personal healer.” He huffed irritably as his arm wrapped around you waist. His touch was comforting and if made your heart race which was unexpected but you leaned into his touch and his eyes widened a little at that.

“I would like to wash up before we talk about anything else. If that is okay with you my King.” You muttered softly as you turned in his grip, your face was barely a hand width from his, your face flushed which seemed to amuse him.

“Of course love.” He muttered softly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear sweetly.

You giggled softly at the new pet name, ducking your head shyly as he asked his slave to help you prepare a bath in his room. You were shocked he was allowing you into his room but you nodded as you followed the slave.

******

Once you had bathed you were dressed in the nicest dress you’d ever seen and the slave braided parts of your hair but left the rest hang loosely around your back. Your dress was pure black with blood red lace wrapped around the sleeves, they also gave you a long fur coat that made you feel like a queen.

You smiled down at your clothes before getting dragged back to the great hall. The slave had barely spoke to you which was a little awkward but once you saw Ivar again you felt more relaxed. He looked you up and down before giving a nod.

You approached him slowly and he pulled a stool up next to his seat at the head of the table. You sat down without a word, laying your hands on your lap as you waited for your next instruction. Slave were bringing in the food when someone finally addressed you.

“I have a question if you don’t mind?” Bjorn asked scepticism clear in his voice.

“Please ask away Bjorn Ironside I have nothing to hide.” You gave him a sweet smile which only seemed to make him more sceptical.

“You know of all our stories?” He questioned slowly and you just gave him a nod.

“Are you not scared of any of us? Even Ivar? No offence but you’re a healer not a shield maiden yet you have no fear of us.” He seemed confused but his question had you laughing which made everyone look at you.

“As you know I was stranded in the ocean when King Ivar found me.” They all nodded and waited for you to continue.

“Before I felt myself drift into unconsciousness I begged Thor for something before I died. It appears he listened.” You added with a giggle.

“What did you ask for?” Hvitserk asked with excitement in his eyes.everyone began eating as they waited for your response.

Bjorn and Ubbe were drinking their mead and Hvitserk and Ivar were eating a piece of meat when you finally spoke up. Let’s just say everyone was shocked by your next sentence.

“To fall in love.” You muttered casually as you vegans to eat your own food.

The drink in the two eldest brother mouth was spat everywhere in shock, Ivar dropped his meat and his mouth fell open and Hvitserk started laughing almost choking on his food as he did.

“You think the gods brought you here to meet someone you will love?” Ubbe asked as he coughed awkwardly.

“No I think the gods brought me here to love Ivar.” You answered simply giving Ivar a sweet smile who flushed a little but his eyes were full of amazement.

“Ivar?” Bjorn asked humorously as he began eating his food.

“Why is that so funny?” You huffed angrily suddenly feeling very offended by how they were treating you.

“Yes, why is that so funny?” Ivar asked irritably, his hand coming down to give yours a reassuring squeeze.

“Because you cannot…you know…” Ubbe muttered awkwardly and you shot a glare his way.

“Because you cannot satisfy a woman.” Hvitserk blurted out and you stood up so fast making everyone jump.

“I can imagine you don’t do a great job at doing it either!” You screamed throwing a cup in Hvitserk’s direction hitting him square it the head. He stood up to retaliate but Ivar stood up in warning.

“Don’t you dare touch her!” Ivar growled as he pulled stroked your hair gently making you smile to yourself.

“I apologise I lost my temper but you should not talk about things you do not understand.” You muttered with a pout.

“He is our brother we know more about him than you.” Ubbe huffed in annoyance.

“Yes about him but not his illness! I have treated another person like him and his cock works just fine from what his wife said. In fact last I heard his wife had given birth to their 4th child.” You snorted as you remembered the joy of the first time his wife managed to conceive.

“How?” Bjorn asked curiously as he leaned his chin on his intertwined fingers.

“The first step is actually getting the person walking and seeing as that has already done all he needs is a special herb from China and a woman to warm his bed.” You answered honestly though the last string of words caused your heart to ache at the thought of another woman enjoying him.

“Kattegat has a few Chinese traders who pass through here maybe one of them has it.” Ivar responded with a small amount of excitement in his voice.

You nodded softly as you stared at your hands and tried not to think about the lucky woman who would be held by this beautiful man. Suddenly you heard Hvitserk laugh at your eyes shot up at the sound.

“And you want to be that woman.” He snorted with a smirk and you frowned.

“I would never presume that a King would want to bed me. I said I was sent by the gods to love Ivar I did not say he was to love me. I will spend my life serving him as his healer and loving him silently.” You muttered with tears in your eyes before standing up and walking out of the great hall.

You could not bare anymore snide comments or horrible things being said about Ivar. How could brothers be so mean to their brother. Not to mention he is their King they should show respect despite being blood.

You were strolling round the markets when you came across what looked like a Chinese trader. You gave him a nod before asking in Chinese if he had the herb you were looking for. He gave you a shocked grin at your perfect Chinese before passing you a bag of the herbs. You inspected it and gave him a nod before telling him you’d be back with gold for him.

You slowly strolled back to the great hall with a small smile but as you entered the hall to see the brothers now drinking around the fire you smile dropped and you walked past them to Ivar.

“I found the herb but I have nothing to trade for it.” You mumbled awkwardly as you avoided his gaze.

He stood up, making his way to his bedroom, you followed him slowly and as you stood in front of him he passed you a bag of gold coins. You gave him a nod and turned to walk out the room but Ivar’s hand grabbed your hand spinning you back around.

“Do you truly believe the Gods sent here to love me?” He asked quietly as he locked his eyes into yours.

“Yes. I feel a connection to you. I feel so calm when I am near you.” You answered him, his hand came up to caress your cheek and you leaned into his touch involuntarily.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I find it hard to believe you have never loved a man.” He chuckled as if the thought was ridiculous.

“I have spent my life travelling I have never even bed a man before.” You muttered shyly as you averted your eyes from his now wide ones.

Ivar nodded and released you so you quickly ran back to the market and received the herbs. Hopefully this worked because even if it was not you he chose to bed you hoped it would make him happy. His happiness was your only concern right now.

Once you returned you passed the herbs to Ivar who looked at them with a raised brow. His brothers came over to the throne and gave there brother a sign to hurry up. You nodded at Ivar as you took the bag from him.

You took the meat leg in Ubbe hand with a cheeky smile before ripping off a piece of meet and coating it with green herbs. You picked up the coated meat and passed it to Ivar.

“It called Yin Yang Hou. It’s a Chinese herb.” You stated as Ivar threw in his mouth nervously. You waited for what felt like years but really it was only 20 minutes before Ivar’s eyes widened.

“It works.” Ivar laughed as he stood up.

“Yes we can see that.” Ubbe laughed as you all looked at his noticeable erection.

“Very clearly.” You giggled as you looked at his size through his pants.

Ivar hobbled over to you with a smile before he pulled you in for what felt like a hug from a lover. One hand was in your hair while the other was very low on your back. You actually felt his hardened member pressed against your stomach as he held you.

“Thank you.” He whispered in your ear before stepping back.

“So who shall I bring to your room?” Ubbe asked joyfully as he patted his brother back.

“No one.” Ivar answered and your eyes shot to his.

“But you are finally able to bed a woman.” Hvitserk laughed evenly as he frowned at Ivar.

“Y/N would you excuse us for a moment.” Ivar spoke, you gave him a nod before leaving the Greta hall and waiting outside. Ivar watched as you walked out before turning to his brothers with a smile.

“You’re going to bed her aren’t you?” Bjorn snorted with an approving nod.

“No I am going to make her my wife.” Ivar grinned and his brothers laughed and congratulated him.

******

Later that night there was a meeting called by Ivar, saying everyone must attend. You were already by Ivar’s side as everyone started pouring into the great hall with chatter. You could here people asking each other if they knew what was going on but no one seemed to know except Ivar and his brothers.

Ivar stood up and everyone stopped talking, listening to whatever he was about to say. You bowed you head in respect before lifting it to watch him address his people.

“I have brought you all here to inform you I have found a woman that I wish to make queen.” You stomach dropped as the words left his mouth. Your heart squeezed painfully as you looked down to hide your tears.

“Her name is Y/N and she is a healer.” Your eyes shot up to him who was staring down at you. The tears that had escaped seemed to shock him and he approached you carefully.

“What is wrong my love?” He asked gently and you wiped your eyes with a smile.

“I thought you were going to marry some random beautiful Princess or something.” You sniffled with a pout and he just laughed before cupping your cheek and leaning down.

When his lips touched yours it was like a million sparks exploding behind your eyes. It felt like the most amazing thing you’d ever felt. It was your first kiss and you wished it would never end. He pulled away to look at his people who were smiling.

“Meet your future Queen of Kattegat!” He cheered heartily before leading you to the queens throne. You blushed as he made you sit down.

If someone would if told you as a year ago that you would one day be a queen you would’ve laughed. Yet here you were with the most beautiful man you’d ever seen holding your hand as he tells you he wishes to marry you.

“I am shocked you wish to marry me my King.” You whispered to him as he laced your finger together.

“Why? You are beautiful, kind and know how to handle my legs among other things.” He smirked as he brought your hand to his lips with a lustful gaze. You flushed under his gaze but gave him a smile to show him you were happy.

“I wish to make a sacrifice to Thor as a thank you to him for leading me to you.” You chuckled happily and he nodded his head in agreement.

“And maybe to Freya so she might bless us with a child.” He added making you giggle returned his nod.

You could not believe everything that had happened and how quickly you fell in love with this man beside you but no matter what you knew your life together would be adventurous and for that you could not wait.

#cute ivar #ivar the boneless x you #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar lothbrok #ivar imagine #vikings ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #vikings #vikings imagine #ragnarsson #fluff #fate #gods #ivar fluff

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nycbabyjoey · 7 months

Text

Rage Quit - Co-op Mode

NSFW 18+ Only

Contains ABDL Content

Read the first part here

"Have you seen the ads for this new video game?" Melanie's boyfriend asked her one day.

The innocuous question had sent chills down Melanie's spine. She hadn't touched a video game in over a year. The last game she had played was the new Blood Legends and, before that, she had been an avid gamer. More than that, really, she had been an staunchly competitive and unsportsmanlike gamer, someone who was unpleasant to be around when a fail screen would come up. After Melanie had woken up from what she could only guess was a next-level rage-induced coma of sorts with only the smell of talcum powder as a memory, she had decided to put aside gaming all together and pick up more relaxing hobbies.

Melanie met her new boyfriend Alex shortly after that at the library and he was none-the-wiser to her past as a competitive gamer. As far as he was aware, there wasn't a competitive bone in Melanie's body unless she was competing to crochet faster than him. Melanie preferred it this way and was sure that any hint that she was a raging gamer would scare Alex away.

So, playing a video game with Alex seemed like the worst possible option. He showed her the trailer: it was a co-op game about a married couple who were warped to magic worlds by an evil sorcerer and had to work together to get back to the real world. "Doesn't it look cute?" Alex asked, handing Melanie the second-player controller.

Melanie frowned. She didn't want Alex to see her mean side, but the game did look pretty innocent. It certainly was no Blood Legends VI: Underworld. Melanie supposed a pleasant couch co-op platformer with her man was unlikely to cause any outbursts.

The opening cutscene showcased the couple in their normal everyday lives. While cleaning through their basement, they open a cursed book that sends them to the first tutorial world: a fantasy setting with in a large castle with a moat. The first section of the tutorial involved jumping over the moat without falling in. Melanie cleared the gap on the first attempt, obviously. She had slain the Lord of Dragons in Blood Legends V without needing to heal. She could complete this basic platforming tutorial with one hand. Her significant other, however, fell splash straight into the water.

"How'd you do that so easily?" Alex questioned as Melanie's character stood idly inside the castle gates.

Melanie sighed and gripped her controller. This might be a long game if she had to wait for Alex each time, she thought to herself. But, she couldn't let her impatience get the better of her. "You have to dash in midair."

Splash!

"Which button is that?" Alex asked, looking down at his controller.

"It's circle, dear." Melanie groaned. Alex spent a few seconds, eying the controller closer. "The one on the right!" Melanie snapped, shouting a bit louder than she meant to. As Alex turned to her, she quickly put on a smile to cover up her frustration.

When he turned back to the game, she bit her lip.

The pair continued on and, after lots of battling and seething on Melanie's part, defeated the boss of the tutorial level: a fire-breathing dragon. The evil sorcerer teleported the characters a new Wild West-themed level where Alex's character wielded a lasso to tangle up enemies and Melanie's character had a quickdraw pistol to finish them off.

"Babe, you have to keep them lassoed so I can shoot them," Melanie instructed.

"I'm trying, babe!" Alex said back. "Gosh!"

Melanie pouted as she stopped mashing buttons for a moment to pull down the hem of her plaid skirt which had been riding up and exposing her underwear as they played on the couch. Her short school skirt was so embarrassing! She didn't want her first boyfriend to see her panties!

That said, Alex being so bad at video games was totally starting to give her the ick. She had been increasingly unable to hold in her anger as the game continued, but he had been yelling back, which was a total red flag!

All her girlfriends at school had said Alex was a loser, anyway. She should probably just dump him - she was about to start college and she should be in her slut era!

Suddenly, a bandito blasted Alex's character in the face, resulting in yet another "GAME OVER" screen.

Eventually, the two beat the level by chasing down a runaway steam train on the back of horses and eliminating the gang of thieves.

The sorcerer transported the in-game couple to a futuristic level with flying cars and laser guns. Halfway through the level, Alex got distracted while flying a rocket. "Wheeee!" he cheered as the rocket sailed haphazardly on the screen. He kicked his pajama-covered feet against the couch in excitement.

"Awex!" Melanie cried, a bulb in her mouth impacting her speech. "You hafta come down and pick me up-ah!"

Wheee!" Alex continued.

"Gimme dat!" Mel yelled, putting down her controller and fighting Alex for his. "Stop!!" Alex whined. As the two wrestled over the controller, the rocket plummeted to the ground and exploded in a fiery ball. "GAME OVER" appeared once again on the screen.

"You killt us!" Mel sighed.

"Nuh-uh," Alex taunted back. "That was you!"

"You're stupid!" Mel sneered back. "You're not even good a' dis game made for BABIES!"

As Melanie shouted it, the word echoed in her mind. Babies... Wait a minute, this was all wrong! Why was she sucking on a pacifier? Why was she wearing unicorn pajamas? And why was her boyfriend throwing tantrums like a child? They were adults who drank coffee and did crossword puzzles, not toddlers who drank apple juice and played with blocks!

All the memories that she couldn't remember before came flooding back. It was why she had stopped playing Blood Legends. All the dirty diapers she had gone through and all the tantrums she had thrown until she could fit the triangle peg into the triangle hole and get back to her adult life. She couldn't let it slip by again. She couldn't!

"Whee!!" Alex interrupted her thoughts whilst flying around in his rocket again.

"Alex, no!" Mel yelled, spitting her paci out. "If we keep losing the game, we'll be stuck in di.."

BOOM! The rocket exploded against the ground. "GAME OVER."

"DADDY! DADDY!" Alex sobbed. "Mel knocked over my block tower!!"

"Nuh-uh," Mel retorted. "I did not!"

The Necromancer entered the room to the two diapered adults with their padded rumps planted on the floor, which was scattered with toy blocks.

"Mel," The Necromancer sung in a disappointed tone. "Did you knock over your baby brother's tower?"

"No!" Mel vehemently denied. Then, after a knowing pause, Mel relented, "Maybe..."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk.." The Necromancer disapproved as he magically picked up the two full-sized adults and held them against his hip. Turning to Mel on his right hip, he said, "I thought you'd be better behaved if you had a playmate to play with, but clearly not. When are you going to learn to play nice with others? Isn't that what you wanted to avoid with Alex? Now, he's going to see you throw your little tantrums all the time when things don't go your way! Why would he want to date someone with the temperament of a little baby?"

Mel looked down, avoiding eye contact with both Alex and their Daddy. After a thoughtful moment, Mel sighed and resigned, "I'm sorry I knocked over your block tower."

"Dat's OK," Alex responded.

"Now, you can kiss and make up," Daddy teased. "Then, it smells like Daddy's got two very full diapers to change."

The couple's eyes widened.

"Didn't even notice?" Daddy asked. "Not surprising. If you didn't notice that your own Daddy was the sorcerer in your new video game, I wouldn't expect you to notice you made a mess of your diaper while you were throwing a fit. Maybe if you two learn to play nice, I'll give you your big boy and big girl lives back. I'm sure you'll get along real nice laying next to each other on my changing table."

Photo credit: @fulltimemess

Press start to begin the Patreon

#ab/dl #diaper caption #ab/dl caption #diaper humiliation #ab/dl girl #diaperboy #ab/dl boy #ab/dl story time #ab/dl fiction #ab/dl story

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