anothersoulless

[anothersoulless]

The Flesh Is Weak {Emmanuel X F!Reader} [Angst]

Emmanuel was a faithful Christian. He was abbot, not because there was no one to take on the role. But because he was best suited. He would not falter in his beliefs. At least, he would like to. But you are a goddess on earth, how could he not worship you?

CW: Angst, No comfort, Bad End, Worship (non-sexual), mentions of sex but nothing detailed, Canon Divergent, pathetic old man, loosing faith, religious themes, blasphemous practices, idk it's Emmanuel and I love pathetic old religious men

A/N: I have risen from the dead. Here you go. I'll go back to cutting my movie now, good night. (This, again, was a request by a friend, you really ought to thank her, she's keeping me in business)

Word Count: roughly 3.800

The Duty of a priest was to his god. Full and utter devotion. He was not to be swayed. Not to be tempted. His body was sacred, a temple for which God would speak through, a temple he ought to keep clean. Nothing should leave the temple, for each part of the temple houses a part of god. A priest was to be tough, born with faith strong enough to live a life in service and solitude. He was to be loving and understanding, not judging, understanding the bible to it's core. Maybe, once upon a time, he had been strong enough.

But that had long since passed.

Emmanuel had a daughter, his basement housed a vile machine of the devil himself and cells to contain what he shouldn't have brought back to life. He had long since fallen in terrible grace with his old love, fallen in love anew instead. He was vile, bitter. His monks were fighters, not men of god, and his purpose was to destroy the revolution — a vile thing of which his daughter was a part of. Maybe some divine punishment had brought him here. Emmanuel knew, very well, heaven was no longer an option for him. He was certain, once he died, the devil would personally pick him up.

Shoes clacked along the ground, echoing in the empty church, where only Emmanuel remained at night. Him and his love. “Dearest, are you alright?” Her voice was that of an angel. Perfect. Pure. Kind. He turned with eyes so full of sorrow and despair, she was sure he would combust. He knew what he was doing was wrong, he knew he had no one to blame but himself. Yet still, he was a man of faith. Broken faith, yes, but faith nonetheless. And the dread, the pure fear of knowing what awaited him once his life would find an end, it was terrifying, it chilled every bone in his body, and it left scars. Scars in the mind, on the heart. He was fatigued, but she was always there to help. “I apologise, my love… I don't feel too well.” She approached, the rhythmic clacking of her shoes against the stone floor, deliberate and determined. She kneeled next to him, extending a hand to his cheek. Her touch was warm, and even though it was just a hand. It felt like an embrace. Like the world would be alright again. She made everything bad fade away.

“My love” her words were otherworldly. To him. She didn't just shine like an angel. She was a goddess. Holy and pure, and it was baffling to him, she had picked him in return. Maybe it was torture of some kind, a blasphemous act he was committed, comparing her to a goddess. There ought to be no one but one, yet when she placed a kiss on his temple, pulling him against her chest, hand holding him with just the right amount of pressure, he felt like he could melt away. “It's alright, you can tell me” Yet he couldn't, he couldn't bring himself to tell her. Tell her of the machine, the satanic army he was raising for none other than a vampire overlord, a vampire who too claimed to be a goddess. He was surrounded by blasphemy and fake gods, real gods, potentially, and he was unable to tell anymore what was real and what wasn't. But she was clear. She always remained clear. He couldn't bring a word over his lips, voice knotted tightly in the back of his throat.

He knew of the cross necklace beneath her dress. He knew of the faith she too carried for the lord. He could not drag her into this, should not. It was too bad he desecrated her with himself, yet that was what she wanted… Who was he to deny? She placed another kiss on the top of his head as his hands reached around. “I understand.” Even without words, she understood. Even without gestures, she noticed. She was the life he needed, the love he wasn't allowed. He was a tortured man. Tortured by the strength of his faith but the weakness of flesh. The pure temptation as Satan envisioned it, even stronger than the strongest man. But Emmanuel wasn't strong, he wasn't overtly faithful as other priests were, he was just a man. And the devil, he was much, so much stronger than a man.

They sat in silence, until he pressed a soft kiss to her hand. “I must apologise, I have been… Stressed lately.” Her smile was ethereal, tea-stained teeth with a small tooth gap between her front teeth, lips curling softly upward, gently so, eyes and edges of her mouth wrinkling. “We all are these days. You must not shame yourself, you too are human” She brushed a stray, grey strand of hair back into his hair. “We all fear and shiver in the times of war, and with your daughter so heavily against you…" Her warm palm slid into his hair, nails gently scratching his scalp. “I cannot even imagine what must be happening inside you right now.” Her understanding sickened him. He was full of devotion to her, she could demand him to do whatever she wished, and he wouldn't bat an eye. And yet, he kept filthy secrets and told disgusting lies, and she knew, and even though she knew, she forgave him every single time, without a question.

Her love made him insane.

He had gotten himself into a mess he couldn't get out of, servant to an ancient vampiric god, brutal and ruthless. He was trapped on a hair thin wire, and a single move would bring him to certain death, assured death beneath and above, surrounded by vampires just waiting to pounce. And she seemed like the only one keeping him alive, she was the wire he was standing on, the strength in his muscles holding him up. The air he breathed. He was positively infatuated, obsessed. The many nights spent together, or thinking about her when she was alone. He felt filthy, dirty, when he did, but the bliss, he felt, she made him feel, it was salvation. He was sure, she took him the closest to heaven he could ever get.

God once demanded Abraham to take his eldest son, bring him to the top of the mountain and sacrifice him without question as a sign of his unyielding faith. Emmanuel knew of the story, of course he did. He was a priest, he should know. It was all too reminiscent of what he was about to do. She would be saved, spared from what they should have never let happen, spared from demons and devils ruling the earth. Maria, his sweet child. She was beautiful, and for once, she was peaceful, laying on the stone-cold altar in front of the giant, looking cross. He had a knife clutched in his hands, and there was terror flowing through his veins. No adrenaline, no trace of faith. Pure and primal fear. His daughter would die. A mercy killing, really. He would go to hell for it, for raising the dead, for helping the devils wandering the earth. His soul has long since rotten.

Once Abraham had brought his son to the top of the mountain, an angel had appeared. And god had spoken. He questioned Abraham's faith, challenged his beliefs. God wasn't cruel or demanding. He was a kind god. To atone for what he had done, Abraham was to bring a young lamb, sacrifice it instead and bring fresh fruit as an offering. His son lived, he even forgave him. And in some part of his soul, Emmanuel had prayed, hoped he would experience something similar, that they would understand. Teia surely didn't, barging into the ceremony. They had settled for Teia, instead of Maria. Turning her into a vampire was something Erzsebet Báthory had long since craved. She was the one who had escaped, and she was the one who he loved. For the first time in a long while, he felt relief.

A mistake.

“Surely the priest doesn't think we wouldn't notice?” Damn those vampires. Their instinct, their noses, their experience. Maria had woken up a while ago, knowing she was no match to Drolta and Erzsebet, she too simply cowered in dear. “Didn't we instruct you to show your faith? Your loyalty?” Drolta sneered, approaching with heavy steps, heels clicking against the marble, her steps seeming like a chant of the devil himself. “I do not see any loyalty here.” Her voice was low, threatening. She was a woman, yet she towered over him. She was as unnatural as a woman could be. “She's my daughter, who else could I bring?” His voice was shaky. He prayed they wouldn't know, begged to his god in silence that they just wanted to instill a sense of fear and dread in him a person could only feel once. To his dismay, God had long abandoned him, if he had ever been there in the first place.

“She is not the one you love the most. And her” her long nailed finger pointed at Teia “you do not care about.” Her fingers grabbed his chin hard, he almost heard the bone cracking, yet she held herself effortlessly. “Have we not been clear? Didn't we instruct you to show your loyalty correctly? Did we not dumb it down enough for you? The person you love the most, not some mortal bore who birthed your spawn” He had promised, not to drag her into this. He was not to involve her, not to pull her into this mess. He had desecrated her holy halls enough, he didn't need to introduce this to the mix. “I don't- I don't love anyone more than Maria” Erzsebet didn't even spare him a glance. They needed the machine, and he was the only one who knew how. They couldn't kill him. “Lies? I thought we taught you better” she spoke to him like he was a pet. Her sharp fang fainted in the moonlight that filtered through the intricate church windows. He would pity himself if he could. “Do we need to remind you we can do things worse than death?” Her head lowered, her hand pushing his head uncomfortably up. Fear bubbled up inside of him as her fangs skimmed over his skin, and he spoke without thinking.

“God forgive me, for I have sinned. I have abandoned my faith, I have tainted your holy Halls, disrespected your teachings. I am undeserving of your kindness and I am Not begging for forgiveness… I pray for the strength to do what I must.”

The night was dark, unusually cold for middle of summer France. Maybe it was the looming threat that made the hair on his neck stand straight, or perhaps it was the eyes — eyes he couldn't know were watching. Eyes that terrified him every time he noticed them in the dark. She was an Angel, a goddess. A lamb that didn't know she was making her way to her own slaughter, and he was devastated. “My faithful priest” she greeted, voice smooth like Butter, sweet as honey. She sank next to him once more. “Always so dutiful. So devoted” her hand settled over his entwined ones, as she gently pulled him towards her, pressing a soft kiss to his fingers. He clutched her hands, clammy and cold against warmth and smooth. “The Love of my life” His voice was hoarse and cracked when he spoke. “I Love you. I know I shouldn't, but I do.” Her Smile was soft as she leaned down for a kiss. He pressed Metal to her palm, and His voice dropped to a whisper. “I have forsaken you, betrayed the Lord. I have seen evil like no other, and it breathes down my neck. I beg of you, end my life, while I remain myself.” She grabbed the dagger, nothing ornate or rich, nothing fancy and placed it beside her. Just as she was about to answer, Emmanuel watched as the dark Vampire grabbed her neck, raising her high into the Sky. There was Moonlight shining through the window this time, Just candles sparely lighting one woman holding up the other, nails threatening to burst her vessels, fingers itching to crush her delicate Mortal neck.

“Are you not a conniving bastard, my dear priest. You will not escape your fate, you are not to even attempt this once again. Remember the things we could do.” She struggled in her grip, but once Drolta tightened her fingers in a warning, nearly choking her out, she had to stop. She couldn't even breathe with the pressure around her neck. “You fail to realize the Power we hold yet again. Yet again you fail at a test of loyalty. I begin to wonder If perhaps you want us to take care of you.” Drolta brought his love close to her face, inhaling her scent. “I must say, for a disgusting priest, you have quite a wonderful taste. She smells divine. Her heart is beating so fast” her pointer finger of her free hand traced down her Adams apple down along the center, stopping above her heart. “I wonder for who of us it's beating?” She gifted him a cheeky smile. “Shall we find out?” Emmanuel wanted to scream, stop her some way, but he was terrified, legs unable to move, frozen solid. His voice was missing, as he sat there, helpless, watching.

Watching as Drolta pressed her lips onto hers, forcing her mouth open so she could bite into her lips, licking the blood away. A hum, neither satisfied nor disgusted echoed in the holy halls. “It tastes even worse when they were defiled by a priest” She clicked her tongue and threw his love on the ground, a loud and hard smack booming in the church. “We would have been kind, if you had not tried to defy us once again.” Drolta cut her wrist open with her fingers, holding the wrist with spewing blood over his poor lovers face. “But my patience has reached an end” the vampire squatted down, pulled the human woman by her hair, showing her wrist against her lips. “Let's see if she drowns” her fangs nearly dug into her cheek “or if she bleeds out first”

Drolta had been beyond cruel. She had made her suffer, made the goddess he so loved cry out in pain, screams mixed with the sound of blood filling her throat. She was choking on satanic blood, but Drolta had her in a vice grip. Even Emmanuel couldn't do anything, paralyzed, watching as his love was turned into a demon from hell. Then, she had taken her away, after the newly transformed vampire nearly pounced on him. He had never seen such a primal look of hunger, the look of starvation, dress covered in blood, hew sharp fangs glistening in the low flame. There was no worse horror imaginable, he was convinced.

He didn't know how wrong he was.

Drolta had taken her away, back to the estate were the vampires stayed, and for weeks, he was left alone. He had cleaned the spot where she had…. Died every night, feeling it was never clean enough. It was a spot that desecrated the church more than anything Emmanuel had ever done, and it made him want to throw up. He was the priest, he had to remain. No matter how many times the night replayed in front of his eyes. The way her fear, her silent plea for help had warped into disgust, then anger, then hunger. He never shook the image from his mind. Never managed to break free. Instead, he carried on as normal, or tried to, at least. With each sermon, his heart hung more heavy, with each passing moment, he felt as if all the angels of his lord had long pierced him with dozens of spears. He felt the judgment, the angry eyes, wishing upon him every misfortune he had earned himself.

“You bury them.”

He whipped around, the bright sun locked away by the church behind him, open graves reserved for the monks Drolta had killed. She looked as beautiful as he recalled, yet her kind goddess was twisted by something vile. She wore different clothes, not the dresses reserved to working-class women, no, the dress spoke of money she didn't possess, of wealth and status. It looked wrong. “They were men of god. Faithful and loyal, I will not desecrate them further.” There was a pregnant pause. “Was I not loyal and faithful?” He didn't answer. Couldn't look at her and continued to shovel the earth back in the body. Her laugh was sharp, lacking of the warmth of the sun, lacking the jingle of a bell that always swung with. “Look at me.” She demanded, and he did. Strange clothes on such a familiar face. Unlike Teia, her eyes weren't dead, which made it so much worse. This one, she had purpose. A plan. A will to live. She wasn't like Teia. She was different. And the hatred in her eyes made it so much worse.

She didn't even bother to kneel down. Didn't bother to do anything but loom over him. “Do I not look beautiful?” His tongue felt like sandpaper, his mouth was dry. “You look beautiful.” She clicked her tongue, approaching the grave, standing at it's edge, looking at the poor man inside. “I brought you something.” He looked up at her, kneeling before her like a loyal servant, a loyal priest would before his god. Yet this, all so similar, was far from the same. She extended her hand, the piece of silver falling into his. Her cross necklace. “God has no place for a creature like me.” The necklace still had some specks of blood. His stomach turned. “God will forgive you” the birds were silent. Then, her face appeared right in front of him, in the blink of an eye. Her stare was cold. “He doesn't need to forgive me for what you made me. I had no choice. You made sure.”

He felt like death had scraped his boney finger over his back. He had never seen her like this. “Emmanuel” the last time she had said his name. Was nights ago, skin on skin, sweaty and clammy hands clinging to his body. She never used his name otherwise.

“How much is your faith still worth?”

Emmanuel had been questioning that himself. Egyptian gods were real. It had skewered his entire worldview. Was his own god even real? “A priest is not to be tempted by the sin of flesh. You have.” A long nailed finger slid slowly down the side of his face. “A priest is to obey the rules, to not worship idols.” Her finger rested on his pulse point “you do.” She pressed against it and a shaky, breath, nearly a whine, escaped his throat. “You are not to betray or murder. You did.” His eyes closed, she forced them back open when she grabbed his chin. “You are supposed to have unshaken faith. Have you?” He exclaimed a hasty no, but she could hear his heartbeat. Know his lies. “Liar” she hissed, letting him go with a shove. “Judas betrayed Jesus three times. Three times, it was accepted, it was foretold. How many times have you betrayed us?”

“I didn't want it to go that far, I was afraid-” “Did you not think I was afraid? Did you not think Maria was? Teia? Who of us did you truly ever love? Has the person you loved most not always been yourself?” Emmanuel's eyes dropped to the open grave. She stood back up. “The Flesh is weak, but the mind is strong, is that not what they claim? In your case, I do not think your mind to be strong whatsoever. You are weak. You are no vessel for god, you are just a man. Pathetic, old and weak.” Emmanuel couldn't answer. What could he possibly say that wouldn't feel out of place? “I will haunt you until your final days. You can speak of mercy of me. Drolta was right, we can do so much more to you than death ever could.”

She had vanished into smoke when he looked back up.

The next time was the middle of the night, she was sitting on the altar, instead of a proper dress only one of those nightgowns, all silk and gold. She was lounging on it, as if it was a love seat. “Erzsebet is going to complete her soul.” Was what she first said. Emmanuel didn't know what she meant, he approached anyway. “What do you mean?” She sat up, offered for Emmanuel to sit. He didn't. “I am afraid I do not particularly know. But her Soul, Sekhmets soul, it is parted, and Erzsebet has only one. The second one, Drolta will recover tonight. Then she will… Complete herself.” For the first time since she was a vampire, Emmanuel could see the trace of what he thought was once a goddess. “Then, my fate is sealed” he choked out, and pity — fake or real. He didn't bother to question — crossed over her face. She beckoned him closer, and he did. Standing right in front of her. “I wasn't fair to you. Emmanuel. I was angry. I will not see heaven because of what I have become. Neither will you because of what you have done. Do you think we will see the same parts of hell?"

“My Soul Is as black as a human soul could be. Yours may not be human, but it's still shining warmth. You will see a part of hell I can only dream of ever catching a glimpse of.” Despite the topic, his words still remained full of love, devotion. He still worshipped her, albeit differently. “You always were a charmer.” She leaned forward, lips pressing against his softly. “Spend one last night with me, before we cannot lay beside each other anymore.”

How could he resist?

Emmanuel had missed her. Her body was still cold, yet he could feel the phantom warmth he usually felt, lost in bliss he didn't realise, the way her fangs dug into his neck, greedily sucking out his blood. He only realised too late, when she forced him under her and pressed a bleeding finger to his mouth, what she was doing. This wasn't mercy. This was torture. She wanted him to suffer. To live forever, become a monster, just like her. She grinned when she saw his face. “I will keep you as my pet, what do you say? Do you not think I deserve some proper apology? I do not deserve to take my anger out on you? I am already going to hell. You are too. I can at least make sure you will never forgive yourself”

[anothersoulless]

A Lifetime Ago {OC X OC}

Legend says, the fox spirit only loves once. Her sorrow forever carved in the long forgotten statue of an even longer forgotten temple, she waits, visited by only one.

CW: Fluff.

This is my contribution to the Love is in the Air event from @quinloki. I've been mega busy with my studies and family emergencies so I couldn't write a lot, but just know that these two are my babies and I love them. (This is a modernish AU, since they're both One Piece OCs)

Words: 1k, short little thing

The fox spirit only loves once, at least according to legend. Hidden in the depth of the temple on the hill, a stone statue reminds of the myth, a woman with fox ears and tails and claws, crumbled to the ground in what looks like a devastating cry. Doomed to suffer for eternity, the immortal spirit once fell in love with a mortal human, the human gifted her the present of a child, but he perished before seeing the fruits of their love. And the child never saw the light of day. Doomed forever to eternal grief, the spirit didn't want to live on, begging the gods to turn her to stone.

The fox spirit only loves once, and the young woman visiting the shrine found it admirable, yet tragic. To be remembered forever for the thing that destroyed you, admired for the nature you couldn't deny, even if you wanted to… There was a romantic note to the tragedy, and a bitter-sweet ending. Afeni had been hypnotized the first time her mother had taken her here, telling her myth after myth about the Fox Spirit. Li'hua, as engraved in the platform under the statue. A pretty woman, clad in a kimono, snout distorted in a pitiful wail, long, stoned hair flowing like a curtain of water in front of her. Yet in all the tragedy and sorrow, the statue, the woman, was of sheer perfect beauty.

The temple was small, run down, barely kept up to date, yet the statue seemed untouched. The black woman always found it weird, how the statue didn't weather, but alas, it was of a fox spirit. Maybe someone was tending to it, Someone who did not care for the temple itself. Or the spirit was more powerful than legend gave her credit. Whatever the reason, her mother raised her well, she never failed to present her offerings any holiday. Afeni would make sure the fox spirit was appeased, would be able to rest and maybe, one day, be able to smile once more. But life goes on, in disregard to tradition and beliefs. Afeni got busy, she went less and less — until she stopped.

Life got less busy, calm, and she found time. A perfect time. A fox spirit, crying, who had found a new companion, abandoned for ages. Afeni would have to bring a better and bigger offering than usual. So she got to baking. A whole batch of beautiful draped pralines, each a different flavour, a different story of her legend etched onto the chocolaty shapes. Just in time for Valentine's Day, a day the poor spirit must feel her worst. She packed the chocolates, and went back once more.

The temple was in even worse shape, one pillar was completely gone, the floor littered in trash, whatever remained smeared with graffiti. Yet, the stone statue looked unharmed. Afeni sat down the box of chocolate, looking for a clean place to kneel down on. She brushed some moss away with the sleeve of her kimono, before she knelt down and started to pray. Her eyes closed, she prayed for the fox spirit once more, that she ought to find peace in her grief, that she ought to find a new love, worthy of her time and heart, a love who would not break her heart again.

The stone cracked.

Afeni looked up, eyes shooting open. The statue cracked. A big gash in the stone, like the slice of a sword running over her face, down to her arms, the intricate carving of hair ruined by a deep spiders web now engraved in the stone. She frowned, looking at the offerings. She knew she shouldn't move them, but she didn't want the statue to fall on it. She took the small package of chocolate and put it to the side, but once she turned back, the statue was a mere pile of stone chunks. She hadn't heard it at all, surprisingly. She decided to head home.

A woman stood at the top of the stairs, long orange hair and a slender face, tight, sharp eyes, much like a fox. She wore traditional clothing, much to Afenis surprise. “Afeni?” She didn't know this woman, yet she looked so familiar, a name dancing on her tongue and in her mind, blurry scenes of a life she never lived in her mind. “Why do you know my name?” Whoever the woman was approached slowly, gracefully and placed a hand in the slightly taller girl's cheek.

Afeni noted her long nails, somehow they reminded her of claws. “You look the same, even after all this time.” The black woman let her. There was something about the other woman who made her feel at home. “I don't know you. But I feel like I should” the smaller woman's eyes softened, sorrow drowning out any other emotion in her face. “It's not your fault.” She let go of her, taking the box of chocolate from the floor. “The gods have their whims, whims mere mortals or spirits cannot circumvent.” Afeni looked back at the statue, crumbled to the ground. The name carved into the stone below, long unreadable. “You loved me before, right? A lifetime ago?” The fox spirit nodded. “Long ago, dozens of lifetimes, you and I were the proof for true love.” She took one of the chocolates out of the box, admiring the Handiwork.

“But that was then, and now is a different time, a different you.” She popped the sweet into her mouth. “Yet you have not changed much. The same hair, the same love. The same face.” The gods weren't known to be kind or forgiving. They had a way of messing things up, a way of unfair eternal punishment. Afeni had been told enough stories to know the cruel deeds they'd done. “Li'hua. The fox spirit” the woman turned back to her. “Yes. I apologies, I didn't exactly intend to, uh-” she gestured to the stone. “break my stone prison.” Afeni offered her a hand. “Come on, I'll show you around. A lot has changed since you last lived, I assume. And you don't have a place to stay.” Li'hua eyes her old lover's hand, taking it after a brief moment of hesitation. It was the same warmth as before, the same softness she was used to, yet it was a different hand. “Thank you”

[anothersoulless]

We Fall {Jean X GN! Reader}

You and Jean had your fair share of bad blood and troubles in the past, but you were friends. And even if you wished it was more, every day it only seems to grow more evident that maybe, just maybe, you two aren't meant to be.

Not Beta'd or checked for grammar/spelling

A/N: The end is rushed and unpolished, it's not as angsty as it seems

You remembered that day very well. Back then you were unsure of why you were running, why everyone was running, but you just knew you had to leave everything behind. It was only a few days later when you found out you couldn't go back, when you realized Titans had destroyed your home. You wanted revenge, you wanted freedom, so it came to no surprise you joined the Military. Training was rough, traumatic even. And then there was that absolute idiot called Jean, the true epitome of annoying, he seemed to think he was above everyone, scummy goals. You hated his guts, he hated yours.

That was, of course, until later. He matured fast and quickly, growing from a childish, headbutting boy into a survey corp member. It took a while for you to realize he had changed, form the boy only wanting to be safe in the Innermost city, to the man he became after the Female Titan. You only realized it later, when they were trying to rescue Eren and Historia yet again, in that cave with crystal walls. He had matured, and you had failed to realize.

You treated him with respect after, appreciating his input, and instead of bullying each other, friendly conversation started. And something more grew inside of you, but you held back. Your Job was dangerous and it wouldn't be fair to try and achieve something more, not to mention you didn't know what he would think.

Jean had turned into a nice, fine gentleman and impressive. You were in awe at his dedication, the way he had shed that stupid competitive skin of his, instead he had grasped the dangers of this life, realized to trust and protect. He knew he wasn't the strongest, he wasn't as great as Levi or Mikasa, not as Important as Eren. He knew his shortcomings, and more importantly, he realised them, discovered work arounds, had developments. He turned into a team player. Funny, charming, mature.

It didn't take long for you to fall for him, despite everything that was happening, or maybe because of it, you liked him. Like turned to love, or at least a crush - denial in your gut. How could you fall for him, you hated him. And then -

"We're going to Marley"

You stood there, the front door of your farm wide open behind you. "What?" Paradis had been cleared of Titans. You didn't understand why Marley was a big problem, you were free on this island, you didn't need the entire world, what would you even do with it? Why couldn't they tear down the walls? Kill the titans in them? They didn't listen to your claims, your requests. The titans were dangerous, even if they were inactive. You wanted freedom, seeing the horizon for once, no walls raking high. You didn't know anymore what you were holding, you only remembered you put it down, nearly dropping it at first.

"What?"

"We're going to Marley, we want to see what they're like. We want to see how our enemies live, how they see us currently, I mean the books if Erens father was old, maybe they changed?" You didn't know what to say, what to do. You stood there, for a solid minute, before shaking your head in disbelief. "No... No. No! Why? Why would you go? We're free, we have our Island, it's big enough, why would you all leave?"

"We're not free. We won't be free if we can't leave this island, why is a farm enough for you? You joined the survey corps for a reason, didn't you? For freedom, to see the world. Why stop when it gets difficult?" You squinted, confused, blinking rapidly.

"That's not... You don't get to talk to me this was, Jean. Not now. You know I wanted my farm back. The farm my parents had, I wanted no walls, I didn't care about that stupid journal, you know that, Jean, you know that! We don't need an entire world for us few thousand, when the world is full of Millions who want us dead!" "Don't you want to prove them wrong? Don't you want to be free, really, truely free?"

What could you only say to get him to stay? You loved him. You admitted that to yourself then and there. You loved him. Why was he being such an idiot now? "I would love to see the world, but I love my farm more. I love my own small living I make. I don't need more, not if this true freedom comes with being hunted, prosecuted, by everyone else. Why can't you see that? Why can't you understand my point? Freedom isn't the highest virtue, everyone binds and chains themself in one way or another. If your freedom means leaving Paradis, then I won't be able to object you, but don't judge me for my choice."

He looked down at you, there was sadness in his eyes. "You're an important part of the team, you can't stay behind, wouldn't that be desertation?" "Someone has to clean up here. Someone has to stay behind. What if you die? What if they catch you? Why can't you just stay here?" "I want to see the world, I want to see Marley, I want to see beyond the cage that is this island!" "But what happened to staying safe? What happened to just... Living life?!"

His gaze seemed to soften. "I don't understand why you can accept this, living here, knowing what looms at the horizon, they won't let us stay here in peace, one day they'll attack. We foiled their mission of acquiring the Founding Titan and meanwhile managed to capture two if theirs, we will not be able to live in peace." It was your turn to mull over his words, rolling them around in your head. "Fine, just... Just come back alive, please?"

It sounded like a war, the kind of war told in fantasy stories of kingdoms and betrayal, yet you stayed on Paradis, as promised. The way Paradis changed with the absence of the Survey Corps most important, most esteemed members was… jarring. They grew aggressive, resentful. It didn't take long for Paradis to not feel like home. Without your friends, without the one you loved... You were alone, surrounded by a bunch of, what seemed to you, idiots. Idiots chasing a stupid ideal that would never be. Why couldn't you live in peace? It made no sense. Why did you always have to fight, why couldn't freedom just be something you all strived for?

A year passed. You barely ever went back into the walls, the cities changed forevermore, people judging you. A corps member who abandoned their corps, you were a traitor, deserter. Only the most necessary or trading being done, before you left. The cities were dangerous. As you made your way back on your horse, the animal pulling the load, you got stopped, pulled to the side of the road. You could hear the sound of a bunch of horses, hoofs clacking against the stone floor. Some celebratory roars were heard, but it was different. The first people you saw on horses, clad in uniforms from the Survey Corps. Wait. What?

You sat up straight. A single year was all they had needed? You looked, scanned for the members, Hange at the very front, followed by some of your trusted companions. Then, Jean. God, he looked so good. You jumped off your horse, pushing through the crowd, probably even running over some people. "Jean!" He didn't hear you. "Jean!" You pushed further through the crowd, pushing the bystanders into each other to clear a path. You broke out of the crowd, dodging the soldiers keeping watch and running after Jean who had passed the spot you'd been fighting through. "Jean!" He finally heard you, turning to look around, spotting you running towards him. He seemed shocked, lighting up fairly fast, as he punched Connie, who was next to him, in the side, pointing towards you. Connie alerted Mikasa, and so on. You managed to catch up, considering they weren't letting the horses run. "Jean, you're back!"

He pulled you up onto the horse in front of him, it was extremely uncomfortable since the saddle was only meant for one person, he secured you with one of his hands around your waist. "We're back. What are you doing here, thought you'd be on your farm?" There was a bitter undertone in his voice. "I was" you explained "just had to get some stuff from the city." He hummed. "How is it over here?" You pushed forward, leaning against him, turning with a hand over your mouth so no one could read your lips. "Terrible. It feels like they've all lost their minds. Everyone is going crazy, they all want a full out war. Where's Sasha?" Jean stayed quiet.

"She died."

The words hit you deep. "What?" He didn't repeat them, didn't answer, his hand tightened around your waist, as he focused on staying in formation. "You're kidding" tears welled in your eyes. "You're kidding! She didn't.." he leaned in "We're at war. Eren is planning something, I can tell. I don't think it's a good thing." You'd normally swoon over how close he was, a year ago, you would have struggled to breathe. Now, you did the same, but the reasons were very much different. It was rough, knowing how many of your old friends had died, changed, turned out to be traitors. You didn't react and Jeans gaze seemed distant. There was no answer, no reaction. "I... I'm sorry, if I would have come with, maybe I could hav-" "no"

Jeans voice was sharp and halting. "It's better you stayed here. I know where your farm is, I'll see if I have the time to come by, get some info about what's been happening." You nodded. There was a big knot in your throat. "Go home." He helped you off the horse, you pushed back into the crowd, making your way back to your own horse, waiting for the crowd to disperse before riding back home.

[anothersoulless]

Little disclaimer I have a lot going on and writing OneShots feels both like a chore, but also like some relief, that I cannot afford right now. I apologize for the long wait, but I have some drafts I'm working on. It'll be some time longer since I have so much going on (also mentally) so again, apologies 🫶

[anothersoulless]

Birthday Suit {Doffy X AFAB!Reader X Crocodile}

It's your birthday and after a day full of presents and party your boyfriend has one more surpsise for you.

CW: Smoking, Oral (M & F recieving), Shoe humping, P in V, protected Sex, Doffy uses his Devil Fruit like once, hints of degradation, Voyerism i suppose, Exhibitionism, edging,

Nicknames used for Reader: Princess, Prince, Doll, Mouse, slut (once)

Doflamingo had surprised you once today already, with a grand party on the castle roof, with dance and music and food in abundance, a stunning view from so high up. You, of course, had expected the family to celebrate with you, but not this grand and unnecessarily big. Yet, there was more food than you all could eat in three days, the music was catered to you specifically, and even your clothes had been picked out from Doflamingo. It was your choice to wear it, yes, but they were so comfy and pretty, and hadn't he had spent extra time picking something out for you? And after all the party and games and decorations falling down and all the dancing, you were happy to fall into bed, your birthday gifts piled in a corner. Doflamingo however, apparently had one last birthday gift for you.

When he finally came to bed as well, haven taken care of storing the food away for tomorrow, you already planned to snuggle into him, was stopped by him pressing a soft kiss to your lips and a hand on your shoulder, pressing you back into the mattress. Before you could react really, you were sat up for less than a second and laid back down, enveloped in a flourish of pink feathers, Doflamingos warm coat underneath you. Your eyes automatically fixated on Doflamingo, he had his glasses still on - he usually did, but he never objected when you reached for them when you were alone. Just like right now, you slowly reached for them, and he waited, patiently, as you gently took off his glasses and placed them on the table next to the bed. "Hey" The blonde chuckled at your whispered greeting. Then, he nuzzled his head against your neck, his tongue licking a bold stripe up your neck to your chin, before whispering a "hey" back into your ear.

You could see his eyes wrinkle, as he smiled at you, that smile you were so used to seeing. "I have a surprise for you. You want to see it?" You eagerly nodded, your hands gliding through his short, blonde hair. The man hummed, the door opening with a twitch of his finger, before you could hear another set of footsteps, heavy and thumping on the rich stone floor. You pushed Doffy a little to the side, sitting up a bit, as you tried to see who it was. The man who entered was sleek, tanned skin with slicked back black hair, a custom tailored button up paired with neat jeans and shiny dress shoes. There was a striking green tie tucked into that vest-button up, a black coat with a real fur lining at the top, sleeves hanging off his shoulders, the scar across his face.

"Sir Crocodile?" The man chuckled. "That's a title I lost, sweetheart. It's just Crocodile now" he sauntered towards the bed, towering over your laying form, the other man still laying over you, your body covered halfway by his lean form. The tanned man shrugged off his coat, catching it with the hook he had for a hand, handing it to you. "If you'd be so kind?" You took the coat in your lap, watching as Crocodile removed his shoes. "Doll" Doflamingo called, your attention snapping back to him. "You want both of us?" A blush spread over your cheeks. "Uhm- I mean, you're both... If you're okay with that?" Doflamingo chuckled. "I wouldn't suggest it, if I wasn't." Crocodile meanwhile undid the big tie, not really a tie in any way you had seen before, as he unbuttoned his vest, shrugging it to let it fall on the floor.

Crocodile was built like a god, if you would have to describe it, the tan very much natural, mostly, muscles bulging, a few scabs in his skin and a thin golden chain hanging low around his neck. "I wouldn't be here if I had any objections. Be a darling and hand me a cigar?" You were confused, looking up at him, as he motioned towards his coat in your hands. You fiddled with it, realising what he wanted, pulling a metal case out of his pocket, handing him one of the big cigars inside, along with a lighter in the same pocket, pointedly ignoring the package that felt a lot like a condom. "Such a sweet thing, Thank you" he grinned, lighting it and puffing smoke into the air. Doflamingo sat up on his knees, looking down at you, pupils blown with lust. Then, he reached for you, pulling you up towards him, turning you so you were sitting right in front of him.

"Alright, Doll. Why don't you show off for him?" He whispered into your ear, pushing up your shirt slightly. Not enough to expose anything serious, in case you decided to back out. "Show him what he gets to taste tonight?" You didn't waste another second after that shiver ran down your spine, shrugging off the shirt you were wearing and getting rid of your bra, throwing them to the side. Just as you were about to move to your pants, Crocodile stopped you with his hand, while Doffy made sure you were wearing his coat yet again, the pink feathery garment draped over your shoulders. You felt his breath against your ear. "What do you say, you greet him properly?" You watched as Sir Crocodile blow out some smoke. "Go on, show our guest just how welcome he is."

He nudged you off the bed, his hand on your lower back, before gesturing for Crocodile to sit down on the couch across from the bed. The other man did just that, his eyes trained on you the entire time, a predatory hint in his eyes, taking drags from the cigarette every now and then. You walked over, standing in front as he reached out with the hook on his hand, gently dragging the cold gold from the waistband of your pants up, along your sides to your breasts. He made sure not to press into your skin with the pointy tip, as he explored your body. He hummed approvingly, smoke coming out of his nose, using the tip he had refrained from using to hook into your pants, pulling you closer so you were standing between his legs. "Would you kneel for me, pretty mouse?" You didn't give an answer, sinking to your knees. He hummed again. "What a perfect view" and pushed your hair up with his hook. "Would you be a good little princess and help me out?"

Your hands were resting on his thighs, as you gently kissed him, teasing him with your tongue, secretly imprinting him into your mind. He had only pulled out his cock instead of completely taking off his pants, and he was built very much differently. Crocodiles cock was much thicker than Dolfamingo, especially at the base, yet he was also much shorter, it didn't curve as much upwards as the others did either, instead leaning to the left a little. It didn't matter much to you though, you worked on teasing him further, pressing another kiss to his lip before starting to take him into your mouth. A low hum, sounding more like a suppressed groan, sounded throughout the room. His hand slipped into your hair, not pushing or using you, simply tangling in your hair. You pushed farther, his dick heavy and hot on your tongue as you managed to take it all, the stretch of your mouth more uncomfortable than pleasurable, your nose tickled by his pubes.

When you started moving, swirling your tongue, you could hear him grunt and groan, still trying to surpress moans, that was until your hand sneaked into his pants at a Weird angle, finding his balls to tease them as well. "Fuck" he muttered, you could see his head falling back, his hand falling to his face, letting go of you, to take out his cigar. "That's real good" You strained to look up at him, it was a wonderful sight, almost ethereal. He didn't activate your gag reflex, even when taking him completely, so you were going much quicker than you would with Doffy, and it was great. Sir Crocodile seemed to fall apart quick, the cigar nearly falling from his fingers. He looked divine. You sucked a little as you pushed back down towards the base, hollowing your cheeks, his hips bucked up, paired with a low "Fuck" falling from his lips.

Your gaze had drifted back down, less straining on your eyeballs, until his hand landed back in your hair, tugging at your hair. "Look at me, sweet Prince" Your eyes shifted back up, he was holding the cigar in his mouth with his lips, a wicked grin on his face. His eyes were wide with desire, the smoke coming out of his mouth and nose in rhythm with his groans and pants. "You want me to cum in your mouth so badly?" You moaned around his dick as answer, the sensation rumbling through him. "Fuckin' Mouse-" a breathless moan interrupted him as your teeth grazed along his skin. An equally breathless laugh followed. "You like it that much?" He teased, his shoe nudging the hand buried in your pants and you whined. Crocodile glanced past you, at Doffy, but you didn't know for sure, then another nudge of his foot followed. "No touching yourself, c'mon. If you need something, you have to ask" your retorts came out as more moans around his cock. A wicked laugh left his lips, as he pressed you down, holding you there. "Oh right."

His shoe, those shiny dress shoes, pressed between your legs after you pulled your hand out. "Use my Shoe, Mouse. Show me how desperate you got just from sucking my cock." You moaned, he still held your head at his base, maybe so you could focus on rutting your core against his shoe, or maybe to get a little break. Nevertheless, you started grinding and he laughed again, humming in approval. You could feel him twitch inside your mouth at the sight, his hand pulling you nearly completely off, watching your expression carefully. "Yeah, you like that?" You hummed around him, rubbing yourself nearly violently on his shoe.

Then, he let you go, allowing you to pump him into your mouth until he started twitching more and more, his groans now loud. The extremely sweet fluid leaking from his tip into your mouth, he was really close, when he pulled you off, retracting his foot as well. The former Warlord grabbed your chin, your cheeks squishing in his hold, mouth open, gasping for air, as your hands grabbed at his thighs, whining at the loss of both, dick and shoe against your clothed core. You shuffled closer, wanting to feel him cum in your mouth, yet he pulled you up once you got close enough, effectively stopping you from fulfilling your plan. "Such a handsome sight, would be a shame to cum this fast"

You could feel something attach to your back, gently pulling you out of Crocodiles grasp, into Doflamingo's embrace. He rested his chin on your shoulder, hogging you. He had put his glasses back on, that evil grin on his face, as he looked straight at Crocodile. You could feel his hot skin behind you, one of his hands in your breast, the other holding your lower stomach, pressing you into him. "What a pretty sight, your welcome gift was, doll. You're such a good host, I think you deserve a reward." He pulled your pants and underwear off, leaving you bare. He spread your legs, showing you off to the tanned man, his head rubbing lightly against yours as he licked a stripe up from your collarbone to your cheek. "She tastes divine, in case you've been wondering."

Crocodile didn't need to be told twice, not wasting a second to kneel down in front of the bed, pulling you to stand over him, one leg draped over his shoulders, his tongue immediately lapping up the sticky fluid on your thighs, before starting to flick his tongue over your clit and teasing your entrance with his fingers. He varied, switching the positions of his fingers with that of his tongue regularly, until he had to hold you up, his grip nearly bruising. It was dizzying, you were so close, it was beyond agonizing the way he slowly ate you out, exactly because he knew how close you were. It was mean. Even meaner though was when Doflamingo came up behind you, holding you open with his finger before sliding his cock inside, Crocodile still lapping at your clit, his hand guiding your grinding on his face, simultaneously also determining the pace Doflamingos cock pumped in and out of you.

Crocodile gave off a dissatisfied grunt, his tongue and chin bumping against Doflamingo a decent amount, making the other either hiss or groan. Crocodiles eye were fixated on you, glancing past the cute pudge, over your breasts, how your face was contorting whenever he could see it, if not, he focused on how you body shook and jerked. "Sir, please-" you whined, shortly before being followed by the clamping of your walls around Doffy, your body convulsing, shaking. Your boyfriend didn't waste a minute. He swiftly replaced Crocodiles hand on your waist, not even waiting for you to come down from your high as he set his own pace, quick and rough. You couldn't help but mewl his name, watching as Crocodile licked his lips as clean as he could, before kissing you. You could taste the bitterness of your release on his tongue, yet it didn't mind you one bit. It was mixed with the taste of his cigar smoke, his tongue invading your mouth, dominating as he pushed you towards Doflamingo, your back arching uncomfortably.

Thankfully, he recognized your misery, pulling away. He wiped the saliva and excess cum away from his mouth snarking at the blonde behind you. "If you wanted your dick sucked, Doflamingo, you should have asked." You only heard that sharp, easily recognizable laugh behind you, accompanied by the rumble of his chest, the slight shaking of his body. "You're a guest, I suggest you behave accordingly"

Both men sneered at each other, you could feel the threat in Doflamingos voice, Sir Crocodile knew. But he also knew it was just empty talk, rebutting with another threat, you assumed, to busy trying to manage how deep your boyfriend was reaching. If he was a little thicker, you were sure one would have seen your stomach bulge around him. Despite his shape being seemingly printed into your insides, it was always a challenge to accommodate him. Your mind hazy, vision blurred with the tears threatening to spill out of your eyes, as the men continued to bicker. God, they should just kiss, maybe that would shut them up. You whined loudly, as Doflamingo stopped, too busy bickering with the other man, you assumed, until your eyes focused back on Crocodile in front of you. Or at least his chest. You followed his body, your boyfriend pushing his Tongue down Crocodiles throat, it looked as if he was trying to eat his face, one hand holding the other man in place.

Crocodiles hook meanwhile was hooked around your boyfriends neck. Oh, god. Doflamingo chuckled, hissing as he pushed Crocodile away. "You like that, doll? Watching your boyfriend kiss a man who just ate you out?" His hand pulled at your hair, tilting your head so you were looking at Crocodile. The man was panting, you could be wrong, but was he blushing? Before you could think about it for too long, Doflamingo slammed back into you. "Look at her. What a fucking slut she is for us"

You whined again at that, moans spilling over your lips as he pushed you towards your second orgasm quickly. It was aggressive, nearly violent, and just as you were about to cum, you body quivering and shaking, he pulled out, his hand abusing your clit, furiously rubbing it, making you topple over the edge, screaming his name, your cunt clamping down on air. Tears spilled, running down your face, as Doflamingo pulled you back, laying you on the bed, sitting you up a little against him once more, holding your legs open for Crocodile to see. "Go on, take her first. I won't wait." And nearly instantly he was right in front of you, wiping a few tears away. "How are you, my dear?" A weak smile graced his words and he smiled back, gentle and loving. "Give me my coat"

You reached, handing him his coat again. He rummaged through his pockets, pulling out a small, sleek package. It was black, golden scale-pattern lining the packaging, a golden crocodile sign in one corner. He ripped it open, taking out a sleek little round disc. A condom, of course. He kneeled in front. "Would you help me, my prince?" You didn't need to be told twice, he positioned it the right way above his pre-cum leaking cock head, his hand wrapping around yours to guide you, pushing the condom down to the base. He gave your hand a quick peck, positioning himself between your legs, grabbing your hips and angling them up a little. He didn't need to spread you out, Doflamingo holding your legs back, your thighs soaked in your previous orgasms. Then, he slowly pushed in, groaning while looking intently at your face.

Your eyes were locked together, your arms pinned between him and you as he lowered his body to nearly rest on you. God, he stretched you out so good. It was perfectly on that border between Painful and Pleasure. "You alright there, Honey?" Your answer was mingled with a moan, prompting him to continue - he slowly pulled out a little, then back in. It wasn't far or fast, but it already filed like you were stuffed full. You could feel your pussy stretch and shape around him, as he pushed and pulled, becoming more daring by the second. The eye contact was intense, like a fixation neither of you looked anywhere else. Your Boyfriend was still holding your legs open, as Crocodile settled for a slow but harsh pace. Each thrust made you feel as if he would split you apart, but in the best way possible.

You whined and moaned, begged and pleased for him to go faster, to have mercy, to make you cum, but he seemed to ignore them masterfully. One time, you were so close, he sped up, a ruthlessly rough pace, his hold surely would leave bruises the coming day, yet he stopped before you could finish. Then, settling into that calm rhythm again. You could heat Doflamingo snicker behind you, as he watched you being edged over and over again. You didn't know which time it was, that he finally gave in. Every movement, every stroke was already too much at that point. But he gave in, quickening his pace just enough, one hand pressing down on your pelvis, the pressure jaw dropping delicious, his thumb flicking your clit.

You came with a cry of his name, sobbing tears and babbling nonsense, panting for air as he rode out his orgasm too. You had felt him twitch, that groan of your name, followed by him slowly shrinking. He didn't wait long, pulling out and throwing the condom where Our boyfriend instructed him to. The blonde had a wicked smile on his face, as a hand teased your swollen, overstimulated pussy. You cursed and writhed for the short few seconds he did so, before he too, pulled a condom out, handing it to you, giving you the choice. You ripped it open, he pulled it on before easily sliding in. You were a little loose this time around, but nothing that wouldn't be possible with the right stimulation. Crocodile watched as he fucked into you with ruthless abandon. "My doll likes being shared, huh? Making me watch while a stranger fucks you?" He groaned, a hand resting on your throat. You could feel the threads attach to you, holding your arms above your head and your legs up.

It didn't take long for either of you to finish, the thrill of being watched undoubtedly contributing. Crocodile smiled, as he watched how Dodlamingo laid you back on his coat. Crocodile threw his own over you, as a blanket, vanishing before returning with a wet cloth, wiping you down first, then your boyfriend and lastly himself. He started gathering his clothes nearly immediately, assuming he wasn't welcome any longer. "Where are you going?" He could feel the eyes behind the tinted glass pierce him. "Home, I assume I was not to stay the night?" The other man chuckled, making room next to you, your other side. "You're a guest. You can stay."

[anothersoulless]

Guys I'm not dead, I promise.

I'm in my second university year rn and shit is kinda busy, like, really, really busy. I'll barely have time to write or research, so both my Overwatch timeline on my alt and my One shots here have to wait.

Plus, Family stuff wise there's a lot going on and my home situation is really stressful rn.

Apologies to all those who have been waiting, the next one is either a Doflamingo OneShot, depending on if my friend agrees (it's a birthday gift so idk) or Jean Kirstein. We'll see.

Again, apologies <3

[anothersoulless]

No Need To Fear {Moira & Mercy, Angst}

After an Attack on an Overwatch and Blackwatch Meeting, Moira and Angela are trapped in the rubble. A lone window on the ceiling their only escape, Angela the only one able to reach it. Yet, as Fate wished it, Angela is badly injured and in need of medical attention, Moira the only one that could heal her. But does she trust the sadistic scientist to keep her promise?

Angela Ziegler knew better than to trust Moira O'Deorain. She knew better, she should have known better. For years, she had despised her methods, had resisted a collaboration between the two, had decidedly pushed everything away Moira had offered.

Moira just wanted to advance her research, she wanted to surpass death, but she was ruthless. Angela knew that very well. Blackwatch was a disgrace in her mind. Out of hand, uncontrollable and wild. Blackwatch was evil, more so because of the fellow scientist hired.

Angela always met Moira with disdain, dismissive and absolute. Judging her Methods and morals, yet Moira remained unbothered. Calm. Objective set on discovering her revival technology. No, she had long ago made up her mind. Never would she put her trust in Moira, never would she work together with her and never would she believe her words.

Moira had escaped the attack unscathed, Mercy — Angela — had not. Angela was in her Mercy Uniform, the Wings in her back, fitting to her name, bleeding profusely. A part of the protective armour was shattered, flesh exposed underneath and Moira could already tell what a disaster it was, shrapnel and dirt in her open wound, if she was lucky, she could get it out. If only Angela would let her.

Angela's mind was fuzzy, edges blurring and her thoughts mixing into a muddy soup. But she stood strong, slapping away Moira's hands, whenever she caught the slender, bony limbs reach and touch. “My staff”

Moira had already looked for the staff, partially because she wanted to look at it, understand it, but mainly because a great mind like Angela's shouldn't be lost because of stubbornness. She had pulled it out of rubble, and while she was unsure about how it worked, it was broken in multiple pieces. It somehow looked alive inside, and if it was, it wasn't anymore. It had burned and soot was covering the shiny metal.

Angela knew she couldn't fix her staff in time. They were trapped anyway, and Moira needed her if she wanted to escape — there was a window above them, but it was too high for the Irish Woman to reach, even with using the rubble as a vantage point. The highest she got was her long fingernails barely scraping along the glass. Moira had no choice. She was the one who had it. If she would let Moira help her, surely she wouldn't do anything stupid?

Moira had tried breaking the window and failed. The explosion had caged them in, it was a miracle the godforsaken window stood strong, albeit a terribly timed miracle. She clicked her tongue as she walked quickly over to Angela, her shoes clicking against the floor, as she knelt down. “Let me help you, Angela. I promise I won't do anything, all you have to do is trust me.”

Angela had trusted Moira once. Back when they were still in med school, she had trusted her and Moira had coldly used it against her. Angela knew Moira, she knew her nature, she knew Moira wouldn't be able to resist another betrayal of trust, it's what she did to everyone, she didn't care. But Angela cared. At least she would have, her mind was too unfocused, too messy. She couldn't grasp a single thought, and as Moira's hands grasped at the Armour, she couldn't lift herself to stop her, her hands not raising as she tried. She was so weak, so tired.

Moira smiled, as she tugged the armour off, Angela pale and sweaty, as she looked at the wound, taking out the shrapnel with her medical equipment she carried with. Angela flinched and yelped at the pain, but Moira was undeterred. She lifted Angela's undershirt, securing it with a loose knot so it wouldn't fall over the wound steadily leaking blood. Threatening words left Angela's mouth, but the vigor behind it was missing, so Moira continued.

Angela was helpless. She watches as if dazed, as Moira took out a bottle of disinfectant, but instead of doing it properly, she poured it into the wound, a wicked smile on her features. Angela couldn't help but scream, it hurt so bad. Suddenly filled with adrenaline and pain, she pushed Moira from her slumped body, as she turned, trying to crawl along the wall. She wouldn't get far, she couldn't, with them being trapped, but she sure would try.

Moira wasn't pleased. It wasn't the first time her patients went running. Sometimes she let them, only to chase them afterwards - sometimes, it was just thrilling fun, but not this time. Scoffing, Moira reached for Angela's shoulders, roughly spinning her around before pointedly seating herself on her hips, pinning her down. Angela yelled, thrashed. The wound leaked more blood and Moira got angry. She didn't want Angela to die of blood loss, that wouldn't do. Extending her right arm, she aimed at the other Overwatch employee, also injured but already unconscious, extracting his life force, before showering Angela in the soft, warm, sharply stinging healing spray.

Angela was surprised at first, she was scared, afraid of Moira but Moira had actually helped her. She retracted her hands from trying to punch and push Moira, as Moira reached out. Her expression was neutral, as she softly grabbed her hands, and then, in less than a second, Angela was helpless again. Her hands were pinned over her head with Moira's right hand as she could only watch how Moira pulled a syringe out of her med kit, the contents purple like her biotic grasp, before she injected it right where her old wound was.

Moira watched as Angela lay there, helpless and restrained, only able to wait for the effects of whatever Moira had just injected her to kick in. Moira, of course, knew what she had injected her fellow scientist with. Soon, Angela would feel nauseous, she'd fall unconscious before the chemical could actually fulfill it's true purpose — making her a slave to Moira, just like she had chained Reyes, Amélie and Siebren.

If Angela was a merciful Angel, Moira was a ruthless Demon, but Moira wouldn't want it any other way, after all, how else could she achieve her goals? Angela Ziegler's technology in her hands… Well, technically, Angela Ziegler herself. There was no one who could stop her now. Moira looked towards the window at the top. Maybe she would die before Angela would succumb to her pain and help Moira. But she could rest easy, knowing how close she came.

[anothersoulless]

Two Sinners Can't Atone From A Lone Prayer {Reiner Braun}

Reiner Braun was a warrior, a proud man of Marley. But maybe he wasn't so proud, maybe he didn't like Marley at all. Maybe he despised his home, his family, himself. Maybe he just wanted to die, to avoid all this guilt and shame.

Content wraning: Suicidal thoughts, AoT typical violence and Trauma, Reiner Braun being Reiner Braun

He had spent his life living for anyone but himself. Reiner Braun, the son loving his mother so much he would die for her. Reiner Braun, the son who became a warrior for his mother. Reiner Braun, the child sent to war to protect his mother. It was no surprise that by the end of his 13 years he wanted to die. It was no surprise he wanted to choose how to go out, and yet, he had been denied that sweet release every single time.

He had seen wars and blood and death, had killed more people than most in the world when he was still a child. He had been tasked with genocide of an entire civilization when he was 12. Most other children would fawn over cars and races and get into fights with the neighbours kids about some girl they liked and get home to an angry mother and fresh food, and he was strategically plotting how to doom an entire nation, in the name of peace.

Of course, he didn't know then, that it wasn't peace. It was fear, it was war. He was a slave, a slave to anyone who gave him orders. It wasn't his fault, of course, it was the fault of the world, the people around him. It was the fault of Eldia, Marley, his mother, the soldiers… When Marcel died they should have returned, but he pressed on. They weren't about to throw away their chance at 'peace' just because of one death. It was his fault of course, the horror, the dread he felt when he had seen the overgrown titan leap out of the ground, seen Marcel get caught by the titan, seeing him get stuffed between his teeth, the sound of bones as they were crushed, heard his screams upon the pain Marcel felt. He was frozen. What could he have done? Marcel was the leader, he was suited far better for this entire job than him. Maybe Porco had been right, he didn't deserve the Armoured Titan. Then they broke the first wall, a team effort just for a chance to mix under the people — no — the monsters who caused all this suffering. The monsters who followed their leader, the founding Titan, who worshipped him, who praised him…

And they screamed. Ran. They behaved like… Like people. Getting eaten, crushed, trampled. They tried to save their dogs, cats, horses, their children, their wives. They didn't look so different. He enrolled in the Survey Corps with only one intention but at that point. Everything had already started to shift. He had dreams of being a warrior, dreams of being a soldier, and everything seemed to muddle up. Until, eventually, he wasn't Reiner Braun, the son living for anyone but himself anymore. He had become Reiner Braun, the friend and soldier finally making his own decisions. But it was fleeting, like a beaten dog always returning to its owner for food, he always found his way back. Escaping. Into this false reality where Eren wasn't a threat, a reality where he could just be what he was — a teenager, even if he was very mature and enrolling in yet another military. It was an escape, a dream, a wish.

And then they stood on that roof, discussing their plans, before they realized their fatal mistake: Marco. Reiner didn't think. At that moment, he was a warrior. Anything for his success. Everything was only for his success. No matter what or who he had to sacrifice. Marco was a sweet boy, nice and forthcoming, the exact opposite of these “monsters” he had been taught about. He felt with Annie when she hesitated, as he held him down. And then, he stood there, watching Marco getting gobbled down like a small snack. And he fled. How? How could he do this? Marco was his friend, no, his enemy, but what enemy that forgave him? It hurt, in his chest and in his brain, so he shut everything down. And then-

Wait, why was Marco getting eaten?

The second breaking of the wall was a plan. A return to the trauma he experienced. He knew how much damage he'd done. He'd seen the way they screamed, ran. Escaped for naught as they got caught and eaten and trampled and thrown. It was so similar. It was calculated and carefully crafted, but yet, there was a panic inside of him. He did his job, but by god, if there was one, how he just wanted to run. To die. They were just humans, just like him, his family, his mother, like all those who looked down on eldians, there was no difference. Not when they ran and screamed, terrified of the giants invading their home, their sanctuary. What was he doing, torturing, killing innocents? Children, people the farthest away from responsible for the crimes of their ancestors? People oblivious to their criminal past? Who was he, who were they to play judge?

And then, there he was — Eren, a Titan, no, not just any Titan. The Attack Titan, their goal, their mission. This was their objective, yet still his heart seemingly stopped beating. Eren was their mission. But the boy was reasonable, was he not? He was a Titan shifter, they definitely could talk to him, he hated Titans as much as they did, they could argue, he could convince him, he certainly could. So the next plan was set in motion. And from then on, everything seemed to fail miserably. The kidnapping backfired, Annie got captured, they nearly died, so then, Reiner made a decision.

Maybe his next decision already was one of tragedy, the stupid idea he had to tell Eren, tell him in front of basically everyone. The few feet of distance, what would they do? He didn't want to risk Bertholds life, yet he did, and his as well. A risk he took, a risk he nearly had to pay the price for. Precious seconds the difference between his death and survival, yet he survived. Maybe, he would ask himself later, maybe that already was the point where he wanted to die. The first attempt at a suicide, possibly. In the end, it all clumped together in his memory, a haze over his intentions and experiences, yet they still stung as clear as day. What was he doing?

Berthold died alone. And it was his fault. He couldn't protect him, he wasn't even there for him. No. He had to be saved, he had to be carried away, after loosing three titans, of which they only got back one, loosing a fourth was not an option. Reiner had failed. As a leader, a friend, a fighter, a warrior. He had failed Marley, failed to save his family, he was cursed with failure, and he was destined to forever be the symbol of incompetence. So they returned to Marley, while he grieved his only real friend. He was miserable. Reiner had failed at the easiest of tasks, he was supposed to be one of the best warriors of Marley, of the world, yet maybe they had been right. He wasn't prepared. He wasn't fit for this role. If only Marcel would have been alive. If only he would have died instead.

Marley was miserable, just like on Paradis, they lived in a cage, unlike on Paradis, he was a caged dog on a leash, a slave for war. He was home, yet he didn't feel farther away from home than he felt on Paradis. The fights, the senseless rage that Marley instilled into the next generation of warriors, it was nonsensical, complete lies fabricated in order to boost this way of thinking in black and white, their worldview. It was brainwashing at its finest. And now, as he was older, with what he saw himself, it seemed so clear, how could he have fallen for these blatant lies? The blatant propaganda? Marley was loud in such a different way to Paradis. The amount of times he wished he could just die, it was ridiculous. Yet somehow, he survived. He had been so close so often, rifle propped against the floor, the icy muzzle pressed into the wet cavern of his mouth, leftover gunpowder mixing with his saliva. Adrenaline pumped, his finger on the trigger. In less than a second, it all could be over. It would be over.

And he didn't shoot.

If only he had been strong enough to pull that trigger, he wouldn't have had to face Eren. Of all people, that boy a little bit too much like him, he may not have been a boy anymore, yes, but yet again, Reiner found himself begging for death, and again, he was not to be granted the release he so desperately sought. Again he was denied, and again he saw screaming, crying, running. Death. Another battlefield. Another detestation. Another Nightmare to add to his list.

The last mission. For one last time, an attack on Paradis. Return the Titans, stop them. That familiar haven, the familiar city and walls, years spent, wasted here, the place of his failure, the place of his sorrows. And finally, he was on the floor, he was ready to sacrifice himself, save one of the children, die at least in a meaningful way, he had surrendered. He was prepared. He had said his goodbyes, as there were none left to say. And then. Of course, even with his armour undone, his flesh nearly bitten through, there was something bound to get in his way. Another friend, another teammate lost.

Why was he surviving? Why was he the one everyone chose to safe? Why, why, why?

God, how he hated himself. How he wished he had pulled the trigger before meeting Eren again. If only he had accepted his fate. If only his mother wouldn't have pushed him. If only he wasn't born an eldian. If only he wasn't born at all.

And in the end, 80% of humanity had died. And he was still standing. So many of his friends were dead, his family was dead. Annie survived. God, how he had hated her at the start, how he had despised her way of icy rebellion. And now, they stood side by side and there was nothing he wanted to complain about. Reiner wondered if it had all played out differently, if he wouldn't hate himself so much if only he had been born on Paradis, together with his… was he allowed to calm them friends? He has betrayed them, attempted to kill them, was he really in the right to call himself a friend? The others didn't seem to mind, yet even after they decided to return to Paradis, he still couldn't shake, couldn't comprehend.

Why was he the one to survive?

[anothersoulless]

The Way You Taste {Eustass Kid X Fem! Reader}

Finally you meet each other again. After months of each of you leading your own crews, one a small island you both run into each other. And so, when you two decide to have a joined party in remembrance of past combined battles. You two just happen to be on a cliff in the woods, away from the party celebrating your reunion by yourself.

18+ content

teasing, worshipping, oral (f receiving), penetration, riding, temperature (metal = cold), outside sex (woods)

The night was dark, the stars seemed to have disappeared, just like the moon, the waves crashed into the rocky shore, the wind cold on your skin and the grass wet beneath you. You shivered, an ice-cold and bulky hand running up your body, clothing already long discarded on the grass. His golden gaze piercing your soul as he stared at you, he was lowered to the ground, his body just inches above yours as he felt you shiver and looked towards your stomach, the goosebumps rising. His hair wasn't all done up anymore, falling down his face, his clothing discarded as well long ago. He had just been admiring you, worshipping you, on this cliff in the woods, faint noises of the party on your ships reaching you, but going unnoticed, both of you too enraptured with each other.

His muscles flexed a little, eyes flickering up at you and then back to following his cold metal hand as it reached your breast, tracing along the outline before slowly running one of the icy fingers over it. You whimpered at the touch, and his eyes flicked onto your face. Kid lowered his head, giving your stomach a small kiss as he let his prosthetic fill his grip with your soft breast. Another whine escapes your throat, as you arch into him. The brute over you hums, a deep, low, delicious sound that made you shiver. Or was that the cool night air? His face still rests lightly against your stomach, his prosthetic lightly kneading you soft flesh, before the cool metal retracted. You nudged him with your leg, not wanting him to stop. He felt so hot, skin burning like the sun on a summer island, it spread through you but was quickly replaced by a chill again, the wet grass blades tickling your skin, the uneven earthy ground digging into your back.

You didn't mind, for him you wouldn't mind bathing in lava, if it meant you could see his gorgeous face and body. His eyes pierced yours, intense eye contact that made you nearly shy away, but god, why did it have to be this hot? His hair looked so good framing his face, his googles giving them free, and he looked like a god. That hungry gaze, nearly devouring you, nearly like a hunter ready to jump onto its prey, and it made you shiver again, this time, not from the cool air or his cold metallic hand. His shoulders were broad as he held himself up with his good hand. Now slowly shifting onto his right arm, the muscles playing above you. The scars adorning his body, the nasty ones from his face all the way to his abs and to where metal met skin. The two slashes on his good arm, if he would let you, you'd kiss all over him, but he wouldn't let you, too afraid he'd become too soft on you, as if he wasn't already. His hand touched you, heat spreading through your veins like a fire spreading through a forest, and all you could think of was him. Ethereal and eternal, like an angel. A devious and dangerous angel.

And you craved more. Your hand reached out, touching right above his heart and feeling the faint thumping underneath his skin, and it seemed to beat impossibly fast, but yours was beating just as much, so you paid it no mind. Slowly sliding it over the edges of muscles nearly visible, little hills and valleys on his skin, lower. His hand wrapped around yours, bringing it back up before it could even touch his belly button. He hummed against your hand, as he kissed your knuckles. All tame and pretty, handsome and infatuated. There was nothing but adoration and lust in his gaze as he slowly, oh so slowly traced kisses down your body. An eternity he spent kissing each inch of your neck and shoulders, another he spent worshipping your chest. Your arms smeared with red lipstick, your hand with the pretty black nail polish he wore as well dug into his hair, tugging him down, but he held fast. Not even wavering in his stance, not movable for even an inch.

His lips on your stomach, your thighs, his eyes closed savoring you like he would only have you this once. Maybe it would be the last time. Maybe it wouldn't. He looked so pretty, and you felt worshipped like a goddess being adored by a follower, by a fellow god, a servant worshipped by its god of lust, of desire. His red hair was such a pretty shade, oh how you wished to keep him forever. It nearly felt like forever for his lips to finally touch you where you wanted him most. First soft kisses all around your lips, then even small soft kisses on your clit, before his tongue finally darted out, tasting your fluids already leaking out of you, teasing you just right. You held your breath, your heart beating like you were running for your life, maybe, in a sense, you were. Running to give Kid everything he desired, even if it was your life. Running to take from him everything he was willing to offer, running to take his heart and swallow it, cherish it. He hummed and moaned, the cool night air nearly forgotten with how hot you two were running.

Everything about him was perfect, his tongue just as much. He knew you like he knew his ship, every quirk and every scar and everything that made you feel good. He licked at you, sucked your clit, you could even hear him audibly drink, heard him swallow in the mostly quiet night. Then, his tongue finally penetrated you, the skilled muscle moving expectedly inside of you, his wet lips smearing their red lipstick all over you. Your hands grasped at his hair, that wonderful red clouding your vision. He groaned, his eyes opening, staring at you. That golden hue haunting you in your dreams, That near predatory gaze fixed on you like you were all he ever craved. Even if it wouldn't be true, right now, on nights like these, you don't think you would find it in yourself to care. Not with the way he worshipped you, not with the way he loved you. His nose rubbing against your clit, his one hand holding, bruising your hip, the cold metal one resting on your stomach, like an assurance, he got you. And you melted into his touch, mewling and moaning like you were all alone in the world, it definitely felt like you were. The wetness of the grass forgotten, the night sky sparkling with stars upon stars, looking down at you from above, but they barely registered, too focused on the man between your legs, thighs squeezing his head just the way he loved it.

Curses left your throat, choked out words, incoherent moans, needy whimpers. He swallowed everything eagerly, every syllable leaving you, every single tiny sound, how it riled him up even more, his hips pushing harshly against the floor, rubbing them back and forth shallowly, some small relief for the desire he felt, eating you out like it was his favourite meal. He pushed you higher, closer to your climax, his hand slowly, teasingly tracing along your folds, threatening to push in alongside his tongue, pushing in only the tiniest amount before he pulled it back out. His painted nail shining in your fluid, not quite dripping but still slowly cascading down his finger, before you could feel the edge of his trimmed nail pressing perfectly onto your clit, before he shifted to use his finger bed, slowly circling it, constant pressure pushing you as far as he wanted you to, seeing you fall apart, it was the true meaning of intoxication, he was addicted and you were the drug. Pushing you past the edge. With a wail of his name, legs clenching impossibly tight around his face, his cheeks squished together, the flesh of your thighs moulding around his face.

He moaned into your warm cunt as he sucked and licked all the juices from it, before sliding back up to you, giving you a sloppy kiss, all teeth clashing against teeth and tongue pushing as far into your mouth as possible, lipstick smearing against lipstick, black mixing with red smears, his hands grabbing at everything they can, waist, hips breasts. The desperate way such a harsh contrast to the worshipping you had just witnessed, nothing unusual of course, but still something that made your heart flutter. Softly placing a hand on his shoulder, you pushed him away and like warm butter, he followed without hesitation, he didn't doubt you for a second as you pushed him to his knees, then further back until he was the one laying down. You climbed on top, one leg on each side before grabbing his dick and guiding him to slip in, all throaty moans as he finally felt the warm, wet enclosure of your pussy.

He grabbed at your hips, a bruising hold, deliciously painful, even if he didn't guide you, no, not yet. You leaned forward, hands grabbing onto his muscles, gliding, scratching, groping. Then you moved, and that was when he started to help you. He moaned out curses, praises, his pupils blown wide, as he watched your body, watched the way your tits moved, your thighs, the plush fat on your thighs and belly and arms. Watched your face, as you lost yourself in the same pleasure he felt. He was otherworldly to you, and you were godly to him. It was mutual. It was perfect, it was honest and pretty and god be damned, it was hot. You haven't had him in months, and now that you finally had him again for a single night, you just wanted it to last forever. Moans and grunts, breathy whimpers filled the deep night, stars twinkling above you, yet he couldn't care less. It was all you, only you to him, and to you, there was only him. The cool air made you tremble, or was it your approaching high? His cold hand stayed on your hip, as his other reached up and first firmly squeezed your breast, before moving to your neck and pulling you down into feverish kisses. You both were a mess. A pretty mess and perfect, and as you moaned his name, you felt him twitch and tremble for a moment, before feeling how his hot semen seeped out of him, into you. But you weren't done, and he would be damned to not let you, so continuing to guide you with his hand, his flesh one slipped down your body, slowly rubbing at your clit with so much pressure it was nearly hurting, but the joint pleasure plus the words he started to whisper between kisses were so tempting, you shuddered and shivered, cumming on his cock with another moan of his name.

Kid held you close, letting you rest and catch your breath, before you two would eventually get dressed and return to your respective ships. It was only for tonight until fate would lead you to each other again, but yet, seeing him leave with the fresh memory of yesterday night, it felt sad. You had chosen your path. So had he, being rivals for the biggest treasure in the entire world, there was no way you would work together, and while you solemnly swore you'd find it yourself, you didn't think you'd mind if he found it first. Of course, you knew what this feeling was, but you were not yet ready to admit it, not when you knew where he was heading off to. Not when you knew he would probably die. If he did. Maybe one day, you could be wherever you go with him, together for however long you were fated to stay.

[anothersoulless]

Okay I was absent for a really long fucking time. I've been working on the Spotify wrapped OneShots and a FanFiction again for my alt account (will it see the light of day? Hm, maybe)

I also have been busy with being sick, university assignments for the first semester (I despise group projects), and also a visit from online friends so I wasn't writing a whole lot, I also have some things to figure out with the Spotify Wrapped OneShots (the last one was a slay apparently, thanks for all the love, i actually squealed like a fox when I saw the reblogs <3)

And yeah, BUT, I got a proofreader app to fix my mistakes! And the next one will be up some time soon, I gave it to a friend to read over because I wanted to make sure the things I tried for it actually work (i hope they do, I tried something new!) and I'll see y'all with the new OneShot!

Also: would you prefer SoundCloud or Spotify links for the songs?

[anothersoulless]

Seven Minutes in Hell {Breakup! Eustass Kid X Reader}

You have been treated badly one too many times. It's time to leave your Boyfriend behind

Shit hasn't been well, this song slaps and let's get this shit show started!

Ofc kinda angsty(not really though?, but on god Reader deserves freedom (Dw, my pookie will get another actual One shot soon lmao, hopefully as tasteful as the song but lbfr i'll probabky flump it again)

Anywho, let's get it started

Admittedly, your relationship with Kid was everything but healthy. He was loud and didn't really care about if you had to stand up in the morning, police called to your place more than once for loud screaming and arguments. There were his guy friends, his crew, that were obviously higher on his priority list than you — far higher. The amount of times he nearly went to jail for them, you'd thought Kid would have learned his lesson, but alas he never did. And you? Well, you seemed to only be there for one thing — stress relief. If that meant fucking you and screaming at you, something even throwing random stuff at you he found in the house, well, that was for him to decide on the whim.

If at least the sex was good, but even that was all about him. It was like the world revolved around him and only him and everyone had to do what he wanted. Well, too bad for him, you had enough. Years of misery finally snapping to a close, you decided he wasn't worth your time anymore. You were done with being treated like an old-timey housewife of the Middle Ages. You had packed your things while he was out with his friends again, ready to leave. There was no way in hell however you would want to miss his face when you confronted him, oh how you imagined he'd look. Would he be upset, would he scream at you again, only proving your point?

You put your last bag in your best friend's trunk, she had been kind enough to lend you a hand in her endeavor. If it went how she wanted to, you probably wouldn't even have started this relationship, but now she just sat ready to drive, the box of glitter she brought still sitting on the back seat as she gave you a last encouraging nod to take it. You didn't and went back inside, letting her know it could get late — she waited, of course. And you went back inside.

Kid was expecting food on the stove when he came back home, he didn't even notice your shoes missing on the shoe rack out front when he unlocked the apartment, but he did notice one thing — all that decor he had absolutely despised missing. He even smiled triumphantly before he realised the missing smell of fresh food. Kicking off his boots haphazardly, he stopped into the kitchen and saw you on your phone, sitting on a chair at the table. "Yo, what's with food?" "I won't make you food anymore."

There was a silence, a calm before the storm. You put your phone in your back pocket before he could fly off the handle, just in time. "What the fuck?! You're not even gonna make me food now, what are you even worth?!" You let him have his little temper tantrum, before you sighed. "We're done, Kid. I'm worth far more than you, and by all means... I really hope you never get another partner in your life, my god" He seethed, his face contorting in anger, but he didn't say anything, couldn't say anything, words missing on his tongue and voice dying in his throat. "Oh, and uh, I'm moving out. Like today." You shrugged.

All the tension in him seemed to snap at once, as he lunged forwards, grabbing you by your throat and pushing you against the wall. His metal fingers pressing down hard, actually restricting your airway. "You fucking bitch have the audacity to come in here, live here for years, be absolutely useless to me, then up and leave? No, no, you don't get to do that!" "Well, I was good enough to make you food. And to get you off, apparently. Also, you hurt me in any way, I won't hesitate to call the police, I only need to press one button right now." He huffed, he really seemed like a bull trapped in a ring with gladiators, just that this was no real fight. "Don't fucking pretend like you didn't like this shit, wasn't that part of the reason you even came here in the first place?"

"It was, at the start" You smiled. "You just kind of… Put me through hell, not gonna lie. Like, you've gotten so bad in bed, it's actively hell. Like I'm just there, and honestly, no. Not even a thank you, no — just no." His hands clenched into fists, and for a second you thought you had crossed the line, as he raised his hand, before he turned, smashing the table with his prosthetic. "Get out you fucking whore! Get out, or I swear I'll rip your fucking throat out!" You didn't need to get asked twice, running to your friends' car, who looked at you worriedly, but you smiled as you hoped into the passenger seat. "Drive, Drive!" And without a word, she started the car as you began laughing. Finally, you were free again.

[anothersoulless]

Spotify Wrapped 2023 OneShots (discontinued)

Done

Skipped

Already done before

Red Windows {Cloud Strife}

Go F*ck Myself (GFM) {Eustass Kid}

THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND {Eustass Kid}

Love Like Mine - Stella Cole

Daylight {Reiner Braun}

The Scorpion and the Frog/Trust Me {Moira & Mercy}

An unhealthy Obsession - Blake Robinson Synthetic Orchestra

Atlantis {Jean Kirstein X Reader}

Ghosts & Monsters - Saint Chaos

Thanatos (End of Us) - Janani K. Jha

Black Fire - MegaGoneFree

Gladiator - Jann

Main Attraction - Jeremy Renner

Cigarettes & Feelings - The Haunt

That's All (The Villain's Lair) - PattyCake

Stuck Inside - Black Gryph0n, Baasik, The Living Tombstone, Kevin Foster

Friends - Sixlight

EVIL - Melanie Martinez

Jesus He Knows Me - Ghost

SUCKER4PAIN - Paycheck, Jxve

Eat Your Young - Hozier

Beautiful is Boring - BONES UK

ur a zombie - Jessie Paege

Sweet Talk - Saint Motel

Kill the Witch - Dave Melodicka, Melodicka Bros.

Return to Versailles - Joshua Kyan Aalampour

Bad End Theatre - True End Ver. - NomnomNami

Silver Screen - Jonny T., Foreign Figures

Play with Fire - Sam Thinnest, Yacht Money

Meddle About - Chase Atlantic

Gambling Man - Mike Hough

Mad IQs - I DON'T KNOW HOW HUT THEY FOUND ME

Empire - Nefera DeNile, Ramses DeNile, Monster High

Night Eyes - Orion Eypress

Everything Moves - Bronze Radio Return

Halo - Arcane Skye

Identity - Sarina

Smooth Operator - Single Ver. - Sade

Dance to Forget - Tryhardninja, Nina Zeitlin

Blood & Glitter - Lord of the Lost

Sometimes - Nick Lutsko

Unknown (Till the End...) - AKUGETSU

Losemyhead - littleDEATH

Take Me To Church - Annapantsu

Play Date - Melanie Martinez

Six Feet Under - Vane Lily

Black Sorrow - PARK BYEONG HOON

Looking Like This - Lyre Let Telmps

Who is she ? - I Monster

TUNNEL VISION - Melanie Martinez

Messed Up - Once Monsters, Chloe Adams

Egoist - Jenna Holiday

Pass The Knife - No/Me

VOID - Melanie Martinez

Autotheist - Baby Bugs

Tot Musica - Ado

She Keeps Me Up - Nickleback

THE CONTORTIONIST - Melanie Martinez

Babooshka - 2018 Remaster - Kate Bush

Punching Bag - Set it Off

BABY SAID - Måneskin

Don't Forget - Toby Fox, Laura Shigihara

Bones - anne october

Choke - I DON'T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

Cellophane - Alice Goes to Motherland

Achilles - Pierce to Skkies

Below the Surface - Griddinilla

Love Me Dead - Ludo

CREMATE YOUR LIFE - HalaCG, LEECHY!

Hands up! - Slowed - 6arelyhuman, kets4eki, Pixel Hood

You're in Love - Joe Hisaishi

La goire à mes genoux - Le rouge et let noir

LOST IN PARADISE - ALI, AKLO

DEATH - Melanie Martinez

Engel - Rammstein

The Red Means I Love You - Madds Buckley

Pomegranate Lips - Derivakat

Simping For The Villain - Boy jr.

Light of the Sun (Sun Wukong) - Rustage, Johnaid

Always Come Back - NateWantsToBattle

Intruder (Mandela Catalogue Song) - LongestSoloEver

Lady of the Dark - Sabaton

Happy Face - Jagwar Twin

Cross My Heart I Hope U Die - Meg Smith

Human Robot - Blitz Union

Crows - Olivia Olsen

You're so Creepy - Ghost Town

This Is Love - Air Traffic Controller

cult leader - KiNG MALA

505 - Arctic Monkeys

engravings - Ethan Bortnick

NYMPHOLOGY - Melanie Martinez

LOSER - Neoni

Crazy About You - Barbados (VA: Masayuki Harada

The Toybox - The Stupendium

Take the World by Storm - Bowen Yang

Old Money - Jonathan Young

[anothersoulless]

Red Windows {Cloud Strife x Reader}

I've been gone for a long while working on like, 10 different drafts on and off while also managing life (it's stressful rn, ngl) but let's get to a different thing I wanted to do (so I have more stuff to work on :3)

Considering Spotify wrapped was released a bit ago, I will work on OneShots based on my wrapped, they're gonna be smaller though, since I'm trying to rekindle my passion for writing. Also, of course, I keep my right to skip any song, the only songs I 100% will do are song in my top 5, also song I already based a OneShot off do not get a second one unless i want to. Anyways, I know I ALREADY wrote something with this song, but I'm gonna be honest... I hate it. So let's change that! (this one is a lot better but I still don't like it, anywho)

First up:

The music in the club was loud, nearly deafening as you sat down near the bar, your drink right in front of you. The main lights were dimmed, wildly coloured spotlights roaming on an automated path through the room, some device near the ceiling creating a colour-changing star pattern on the floor. There was a dance floor at the farthest wall, even though most people just danced wherever they wanted to. The barkeeper was rushing around behind the bar, due to some misfortune, all alone this evening.

Taking another sip of your drink, you watched the crowd. It all seemed to blur together, like it was all distant, until you looked back at your drink, the liquid a light blue hue due to whatever juice the mocktail was mixed with. Some people were obviously singing along with the music, their voice drowned out by the bass running through you body, shaking the floor and glasses. Watching over the crowd, your eye got caught on multiple couples, some just looking great, some dancing in a ridiculous manner, others getting a tad bit too handsy. Adverting your gaze again, you downed your drink, ready to leave. It hadn't even been your idea to come here, and yet he was the one who was late.

You made your way to the barkeeper, sliding the money over you owed them, some additional dollars added, as you left. You bid the guard near the exit goodbye, wishing him a good day and leaving the estate, going up the stairs to ground level. Immediately, there was a big commotion, two people arguing about something. It was definitely the guy who checked everyone and gave them the bracelet, arguing with someone about their ID. You pulled out your phone, while walking up, already pulling up the chat with your date, writing only a meager "I'm leaving, thanks for the heads-up" and sending it. You pocketed your phone and looked towards the commotion, stopping dead in your tracks.

"Please, I swear I'm 18, how else would I have a Tattoo? I really just forgot my ID, doesn't my driver's license prove enough?!" But the Guard was unyielding, despite his logic being flawed, still denying the blonde entry. The blonde with the unique hairstyle and the striking outfit you had been looking out for all night. A blonde with a tattoo on his lower arm. It were too many similarities to be a coincidence, especially after he begged to just talk to his date waiting inside, since his phone died. You went up to him then, tapping him on the shoulder. "Cloud?" The blonde turned around, dressed in a loose, white button-up without a tie, a bit messy on his figure, yet still charming, paired with grey dress pants and black dress shoes.

He was confused, not immediately recognizing you, taking a few seconds to register. "I'm sorry, I swear I would have been here on time, but I was in such a rush I forgot my ID at home and-" you smiled, stopping him with a hand hold up "I heard, it's okay. Let's just do this another day" Cloud seemed a bit defeated, before he perked up. "Wait, uh- I... I know a place we could go, if.. if you still want to?" You blinked a few times, debating. "Sure, are you driving?" He nodded, leading you to his vehicle. You didn't know what you expected, maybe something like a car, definitely not a motorbike, though. With a bit of help from him, you got on, before he gave you a spare helmet and his riding jacket, which you happily accepted. You could tell he was a lot more careful when riding, a lot more tense. Maybe he didn't want to scare you? It was kind of cute really. And your hands felt warm thanks to his body heat, which made you wonder just how warm he was when he wasn't subjected to cold evening air. Shrugging that thought aside was probably a bad idea, considering you could just feel his muscles under the shirt, now the only thing your mind focused on. They weren't rock-hard, still a bit squishy and you hoped to god he hadn't noticed when your fingers dug into his flesh a bit, or, if he noticed, that he thought it was because of the motorcycle.

The Place you two ended up at looked nothing like the club he had chosen originally. It was a bit run down, made of wood and looked a bit messy with the string lights and the huge sign reading Seventh Heaven. Cloud let you get off the bike first, then parked it and turned to you with an apologetic look. "I know it's nothing like we planned and definitely not what you thought, if you want to leave-" you smiled and cut into his words. "It's okay, it doesn't matter where we eat or drink, we wanted to get to know each other, one as long as it's good i don't mind." He smiled. "It's the best, even if it looks a bit sketchy" You gave him back his Jacket and he packed away everything, before offering you his arm. You took his hand and he led the way, up the stairs and through the double doors. There was a woman behind the counter, gorgeous, and she already looked tough from a bit away. She looked up and surprise crossed her face. "Cloud?" She then looked at you, and before she even asked who you were she seemed to already know, instead asking what had happened for you two to end up here instead of the 'fancy' place that was the original plan.

The bar was empty, but it looked clean and lived in, loved even. Cloud didn't hesitate, striding to the counter and sitting down after you. He let you introduce each other, before he explained that she was a childhood friend who had already helped him many times in various situations. She was nice, saying she'd even give you two something to eat, as you and Cloud started your date. "So, childhood friends?" He nodded simply. "Yeah. Tifa and I have been... Through a lot of complicated-" he paused, for a minute. "It's not like we even dated, god no" he blushed at that thought. Embarrassed. "It's just a lot of complicated things we've experienced together." You smiled cheekily, sipping on the drink in front of you, shimmering just as blue as Cloud's eyes and resting you head on you hand, before you teased "So she's no one I should worry about?"

He sputtered, nearly choking on his drink, as he rushed to reassure you, while you simply chuckled. "Don't worry, I know how it is. It's good to have such a close friend, really." Your date smiled then, a small smile but it was there. "Yeah. I don't have many friends, admittedly. You don't really make a lot of friends when you have my last and my job and... Well, I've been alone a lot. Tifa was there when I needed her and I got some real good friends afterwards as well. They're good friends, all of them"

Cloud was always very vague about his job and past, but you didn't mind. It was not your place to pry. Not yet, anyways. Maybe someday... You looked at his glass, the drink a ruby red, so clear and vibrant it nearly looked like it was a crystal itself. "So, I know people always wonder, so, did you already have a girlfriend?" He pondered. "I wouldn't call her that. She was a very close friend but it was never more, even if the lines blurred sometimes." There was another faint blush. God, you just loved the way his cheek turned a light pink. "We're still close friends. You'll probably meet her some day."

You chuckled then, "Some day, huh? Looking to repeat today even before it got really started?" His cheeks turned even brighter, and he stammered a bit, definitely flustered beyond compare now. "It's not- I- I didn't mean that, it just slipped out." You laughed, and patted him on the arm. "Think about what you say better, next time" Next time. Some day. A promise of another meeting. Even if he failed to meet you on time. Even if it wasn't the best date ever or ideal or anything like it, you got to know him well. Probably even better than you would originally have, and there was just something about him. Those really bright blue eyes and the blonde hair and the soft, light paper skin had caught your attention. Paired with his tougher build, you didn't know what to expect, but he was a perfect mix of both.

"I have dated a few before. The best relationship I had was probably with a girl from a different neighbourhood, a poor one. My parents didn't approve, but she was the sweetest girl ever." You explained. "We broke it off because we realised we didn't click like that, and we stayed friends as well." His eyes rested on you, studying you. You looked back at him and smiled sweetly. "You know, every time I look at you, I have one thought in mind: pretty. How can you actually be so beautiful?" He blushed at your words, scrambling for words yet again and looking away. "It's weird how you can't handle compliments. Surely, you must have gotten these a few times, no?" He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. I just... Never cared about the person saying it." "Awe, so you care about me already? It's our first date, and you're already falling for me."

In a flurry of braveness, he looked you dead in the eyes, "what if I am?" Dear Lord, you nearly felt your soul leave your body, this man had really no idea what he was doing, nearly killing you like that. You stayed silent, air whipped out of your lungs and thoughts racing through your brain, too fast to grasp. And then a whisper: "That wouldn't be a bad thing" Both of you blushed, and the evening went on. A small homely meal later, a few drinks in your system, your arm religiously brushed against his, your shoe bumping against his chair more often than before, sitting closer together now as well. You laughed and you ate and you drank. Then he had to stop, still wanting to be able to drive home. You decided to call it a night, a sense of uncertainty washing over you two.

You didn't want to push it. It had been a really fun night. He fumbled nearly every step along the way, but still managed to make it even better than expected. When you went to the bathroom, you took a pen and a piece of a bill that you left in your pocket and scribbled down your number on it, folding it. Considering he hadn't asked for your number and simply did everything via the app you two met over, you figured maybe this would push him in the right direction without pushing too far.

You returned to the counter, tapping Cloud on the shoulder. "We should probably call it a night. I have to work tomorrow, and you can't drink anymore because you need to drive, so I'd say this is a fairly good place to stop." He looked at you, from his sitting position, for a second, before he stood up. "Yeah, you're probably right. Do you want me to drive you home, or is that too soon?" You shook your head. "A little bit too soon, Cloud." You bid your goodbye to Tifa before returning to Clouds bike. "Don't worry about me getting home. I'll have a friend pick me up in a few minutes. On another note... I really had fun tonight. Somehow, even when it first looked like you had just ditched me, you made it... Probably my best date ever. Thank you for that. You leaned up to kiss him on the cheek, and handed him the paper.

"Call me if you want it throw it away if you don't. I hope I'll see you again?" He smiled again then, leaning down a bit. Your faces were so goddamn close, mouths nearly touching. "You definitely will" and then he kissed your forehead and smiled as he drove off. You look back at the bar. Tifa standing in the double doors and shaking her head, smiling. He still had to work on some of his etiquette, but he was doing really well. And you? You simply smiled, a giddy feeling in your chest, while the corners of your mouth refused to lower even an inch.

[anothersoulless]

Believe {Father John Price & Reader} [Angst, verbal Fight]

You loved your Dad. You really did. You may not know him, but you knew he was a good man, a soldier. But you don't remember a time where he was really there for you. One day, he sits at the table with you, asking you questions and all you can think of, is why?

A/N: I absolutely didn't base this off of a c.ai Bot I talked with. Absolutely not. Now cry like I have.

TW: yelling, family argument, ilugky crying, fighting, discussions about absent father, exactly that father trying his best, people saying things they don't mean or want to say, !!NO ABUSE!!

You had come home from college, when you already saw the strange truck in the driveway. It took a few minutes before you remembered it was his truck. You father was back. You weren't bothered, but it also didn't spark any real type of joy in you. Your keys jingling, you opened the front door, kicked off your shoes, threw your backpack next to them and looked for you mother to say hello.

You mother was in the living room, lounging on the couch, a thick arm around her shoulder, as you could see your father's head buried in her hair, slowly scratching his scalp. "Hey Mom." She didn't perk up like usually, her eyes only scanning you drowsily. It was kind off cute. She smiled, greeting you back softly, her voice a bit cracked. She had cried, but you didn't bother. Of course she did. "Hey John." You smiled at your father as well, even if it was a tad more blank than the one given to your mother. He noticed, if course he did.

Dinner was already done, so stalking into teh kitchen to serve yourself some food, there were a bunch of small candies strewn on the table. You recognized them. The tiny pinkish Bonbons wrapped in yellow, blue and green paper, a fancy font slapped onto it displaying it's name. You had eaten these a bunch when you were little. But you hadn't for about 10 years at that point. You sighed. It was a cute gesture, so you stuffed them in your pocket. One of your friends would eat them, it would be okay.

Finishing your dinner and putting away the plates, John accompanied you in the kitchen. "Hey, Mouse. How was school?" "Good." An awkward silence settled into the room. "Anything special happened?" "No." Another period of silence as he sat down at the table, in front of where you had been sitting. "I see you took the candy?" "I'll give it to a friend. I don't like them." He looked a bit confused. "I thought you liked them? You always lived them as a child." You sighed, taking your seat. "Exactly. I was a child. I don't like them anymore, too sugary sweet." You didn't know what he thought, not being able to read him like your mother.

"What uh... What have you been up to while I'm gone?" "Studying. I have a Job to earn some pocket money. Got new friends." "Are you dating anyone?" You shook your head. "Not interested right now. Maybe some day." He smiled. "That's good. Wanting to focus on your studies first." "I want to be there for Mom, that's all. If I get a partner, paired with the Job and my studies, I won't be able to be there for her. Don't want her to basically loose her only other family member." Your words struck John, his gaze flickering to your Mom still lounging on the couch.

"I-" he paused and sighed, scratching his neck. "I know I wasn't always there. But I have a few months off now, so we could... We could do something together. If you want." You shrugged. "Sure. Anything specific?" "I hoped you might have some suggestions." You chuckled. Of course. "Well. What do you like to do?" He pondered. He actually didn't really know. He usually stayed home, doing something fun like going to theme parks or taking the kids to teh ice cream parlour down the street. "I don't mind as long as we do something together. I really missed you two and we could do something together, I thought. As a family."

"That's sweet, John." You simply added. "Let Mom plan something, she's better at it than I am." Another round of silence brewed over them. "You stopped calling me Dad." Price stated, matter of factly and you flinched. You tried to avoid the subject. "Yeah." You paused. How would you let him know without sounding harsh? "I don't think it's right someone you don't know your father. It shouldn't be that way." Your words stung. They stung to actually admit, but they stung more to be heard by your father. You loved him, you did. But you just weren't sure if he really was your father. Biologically, yes. But he had never been there for you, or your Mom.

"I'm... Sorry. I'll try to make it up." "It's okay, you don't need to. You already lost my entire childhood, I don't think a few years more will matter." You mumbled, glancing at the table. You really didn't want to look at him right now. You were being honest, you remembered him always preaching to be honest to him and his Mom, so that they could always be honest with you. So you did just that. What would it do to hide your hurt? You could feel the way he had to digest your words. "I know I wasn't there in your life. But I would like to be. Please, Mouse. Let us.. talk. Tell me what you like, what you want, I'll get it."

You huffed. "I don't want anything money can buy. I want a father. A real one." Your words sounded harsher than they should have, tone sharp and accusatory. "Sorry, that's not... I just meant I don't need anything from you. Thank you though." He stared at you, you could feel your body heating up at his stare. Or was that your feeling of guilt making you feel this way? "I understand." was the last words spoken in the small room for a while. "I know I was absent. I promise you, I missed you all the time. I just wanted to hold you, see you grow up... I hated coming here with you having already achieved so many milestones. Milestones I couldn't witness, a baby that was mine, that I didn't raise sits in front of me as an adult. I know it's not supposed to be this way, and I really want to make it up. To get to know you. Please."

Your breath was shaky, as you looked out the window to the garden, tears starting to burn in your eyes. "I needed a father. Not a soldier that was never here." You muttered, you voice waivering slightly. "I know." He leaned forwards, putting his hands on yours. You pulled it backwards instinctively, regretting the action on the spot, as you saw his hand retract back, hesitantly, he spoke again: "I know it hurts." "Do you? Do you really?!" You felt your patience snap, something in you just telling you to scream at him, another part begging you not to, he was a poor man working his job and trying his best for you, he couldn't do anything against the fact that his best just wasn't enough. Startled, his eyes finally found yours, fury in your eyes as you stood up.

"Because I know how much it hurt watching you leave! Every single time, seeing your back as you got into the truck and disappeared for months! Do you know how it broke Mom?! I took care of her, when she was depressed, not being able to get out of bed because the thought struck her that you could be dead!" Your mother shuffled into the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed because of the commotion. Your voice was louder, even if you weren't shouting, it was simply slightly raised by your anger. "When she didn't know how to fix something in the house. I tried my best to look it up and do it myself! I did the heavy lifting, I was that one kid in school who only ever had her mother! They called her a whore, you know that?! I protected Mom, I protected myself! Because you weren't there, like you should have been!"

He seemed surprised, before his body slumped into itself. Exhaustion clear on his features. You felt pity, but you also felt you weren't done. You wanted to be down so bad. Why did everyone else get what they wanted but not you? "I'm sorry, I wish I could go back, do it all again, make different choices, but I can't. And I hope we can go forward together, Mouse. I don't want to loose you becaus eif my mistakes, little one. I know my Job isn't an excuse to not be there for you and your Mom, I..." He paused, taking a shaky breath. "I tried to protect you by keeping threats out of this country, people away from weapons they shouldn't have, and yet I failed to realise it was too far away for you. And I... I hope you can forgive me like your mother can, e-" "No, I can't!" You screamed, interrupting your father in his speech.

"I can't and I won't! How can I forgive a man I don't know?!" You started to cry, the sadness and disappointment mixing with you anger and simply becoming too much, as tears fell down your face and sobs and whines accompanied you. "The only one in this house that knows you is she!" Pointing towards your mother, Price didn't even need to follow you finger, the only other person in this house being her. "I know. I know. I want to get to know you, so please, calm down, sit, let us talk about ourselves. Please. I just want to be a father for you." "WELL YOU WON'T BE!" your mother gasped, John startled and you stopped in your track, knowing you went too far. You didn't even mean to say it, it just slipped out.

Grabbing a tissue, you pushed her stunned mother aside, making your way up the stairs to your room, as your crying became more violent. You heard your father scramble up in his seat as you were halfway up the stairs, his heavy feet booming on the floorboard, as he reached you when you were at the top of the stairs. "Please, Honey. I know it's a lot, but I really want to know you, I want you to know me, let us start a new beginning, please! I'll be there for you!" You turned towards him. "Until you have to leave again. I know your Job still comes first, John." "I won't let you down, I promise! I'll.. I'll find a way!" You huffed, your eyes gazing upwards to the ceiling, trying to hold back even more tears, even though they dropped anyways. "I know you won't."

"They will call and you will leave, and then we won't hear anything form you until you suddenly show back up. And then we'll have to talk to each other again! That's not how it's supposed to be! That's now how it should be! You should be here for me, and I know this is selfish and rude and mean, but I just wanted a normal family!" John shook, you could see tears forming in his eyes, as he realized the pain he actually caused you. "I'm sorry I failed you." "It's okay." Your voice sounded oddly at peace then. "I stopped believing in you a long time ago." You entered your room, locking it, as you pushed your back to the door, falling to the ground. For a few seconds you could controll yourself, before your son's, cries, whails and whimpers were unconfined escaping your mouth. You just wanted to scream, punch, run. You loved him. He was your father, so why did it hurt this much?

John, on the other hand. Stood frozen, tears catching in his muttonchops, as he stared at your closed door, posters decorating it he had never seen before, drawings and pictures of friends he didn't know. He had gone wrong so many times, why, oh why didn't he realize it sooner?

[anothersoulless]

Young Gods {Eustass Kid X Reader}

"Baby girl, don't get cut on my edges. I'm the king of everything and my tongue is a weapon. There's a light in the crack that's separating your thighs. And if you wanna go to heaven, you should fuck me tonight" ~ Halsey, Young Gods

NSFW below

Mentions: murder, hiding bodies, cheating, broken marriage, manipulation, unhealthy relationship, domestic violence (Kind Off), verbal abuse

NSFW mentions: Worship, rough sex (mentioned), Consenual sex at the start, Non-Con at the end (mentioned)

No NSFW cut this time, sorry pals

He wasn't good for you. You knew. He knew. Everyone knew. They kept telling you he wasn't for you, but you didn't want to listen. He was Kid, your Kid. Hotheaded, stubborn, aggressive but still yours. And he did keep it that way, he still remained yours, but never yours to control, to calm down. He was yours to love, but you were not his to love unconditionally.

There had been many instances, many mistakes you had caught him in, but still he kept you close. It's not like he forced you, it was simply your obsession with him, the way he made you feel, knew to play you like an instrument he had studied since childhood. He was insane, but who was to say you weren't?

There was that one time, he had been in your shared bed. Not alone, of course. You had opened the door after coming home, after eating your cold dinner he had made - it was quite terrible - and had seen him buried deep inside someone, wild blonde hair all over the bedsheets, hands grasping at Kid's and eyes closed, lowly moaning and grunting. Kid had heard the door open. Felt you enter.

You never forget that look in his eyes, as his eyes locked onto you, his hips not stilling their movements. He seemed angry, but not at the interruption.

He spent the night digging a six feet deep hole in the garden. You had spent the next morning planting flowers on the freshly re-dug dirt.

It was like this a couple times. Whenever you caught him, he would spent the night in the garden. It became a ritual of sorts, even though you were quite unsure about why decided to kill those people - men and women alike. Was it some sort of apology? Most likely not, he kept doing it over and over again.

Sometimes, when you were lying in bed alone, when you heard the shovel scrape and the dirt thump, when you heard his grunts and curses, when you heard him drag and something fall, before the dirt fell again, you asked yourself why you didn't go to the police, why you didn't rat him out, but the flashes of blue hair, blades, fishnets and a metal arm reminded you why.

Then, there were the nights he would worship you, his tongue lapping at every part of your skin, teeth working little purple bruises on your neck, on your arms and thighs, your stomach feeling warm where his flesh hand touched and cold where his prosthetic softly held you. It was sweet, loving even. You felt his mouth leave your shoulder, his tongue reappeared on your calf, he held your foot softly, before his tongue slowly made his way up. His mouth would worship your shoulders, your arms and hands, his tongue would glide from your feet up to your stomach, higher to your neck and into your face, he would lick you most private parts, making you mewl, making you moan. Making you absolutely his.

The Windows and doors would be shut, the curtains drawn closed, the noises of his wet tongue exploring your body yet again filling the room along with your moans and whimpers, your whispers for more and for him to stop already. He would make you come undone this way, absorbing whatever you gave him. His hands would continue, warm and cold a poetic play on your skin, as he expertedly played you, as he felt you shiver and heard you call out his name. Another time you would give in, and an additional one for good measure. These nights wer exhausting, pushing you to your limit again and again, making you forget what he had done again, making sure you still were his.

It worked, usually. These nights that seemed to be so full of love, if adoration and absolute infatuation from both sides, they were testaments of trust, a promise of love. Sometimes you wished it would stay like this forever, but alas. Another night, another girl. A different night, a different guy. He never changed, what would make him do that? Of course you wouldn't be reason enough.

"It's your fault I have to do this! You're just so boring, you're so strict and conforming, you always want to do the same lame things, like you want to control everything I do! Let a man have some fun if he needs to, you don't fucking provide it after all! Or what, you gonna say now, that it's not? Not your fault?! I even kill these chicks for you! I do that for you, or you'd flip! I know you people, you're all the same! What's the problem now. Then? You outraged cuz' the last dude didn't look like you enough? Does that make you cry? Should I get you to bed so you can rest? This ain't a fuckin' miracle dream, get the fuck over it!"

Of course, there were the arguments. When you had enough. When he had enough. Who was to tell? Maybe both. Screaming matches usually, resulting in broken promises, broken furniture. Broken Trust, even. You didn't listen to him. He didn't listen to you, that's how it normally went. Although, sometimes he did listen, sometimes he was quiet, death stare as you screamed your troubles. And then he followed, words twisted - or were they not? With an even louder voice, thundering through the house, no doubt your neighbours heard you, but they wouldn't snitch on the cops. Of course they wouldn't. The previous ones tried it. Their bodies weren't in your garden, but you didn't know where they were, didn't care.

"What?! That's not even what-"

"Oh, shut it with your complaining! That's all you ever do! What would you have done without me. Huh?! I could have left you alone at the altar! I should have! Would have shut you up properly! What if I snitched to the cops about the bodies, Huh? You were the one planting seeds, they saw that shit! If I would snitch, you would have absolutely no where to run to! Think you're gonna be safe in prison? Oh, snowflake, you wouldn't survive a day! You're nothing without me, you're fucking mine. So act like it! Or I'll make sure you will in the future!"

That was usually enough to shut you up. The fear of being rat out to the police, fear of being alone with actual criminals in a prison, some of which he controlled, was too much. At the start, that was always the end of it and he would go out, undoubtedly to do his own business again, while you pulled yourself together, cleaning the glass of the bottle from the floor that he had thrown in your direction. There had been no intention to hit, and he didn't, aiming farther right than he would have if he meant to hit you. You didn't want him to be mad. But after you realized, he wouldn't actually throw you to the cops, because they would find him, the threat stopped working. And it continued.

"You know damn well, that if they find the bodies you're gonna be the first they get in! I can lie myself out no problem, but what would they say, seeing a dude as tall as you with blunt force trauma, multiple stab wounds? Someone with your DNA inside and on them? No way I would go in for that! You would basically confess, and we both know that's not what you do!"

"Playing smart, Huh? Think you're better than me because you're a pretty little thing that can use their pretty little brain, Huh? Well, let me show you who that brain belongs to, I'm gonna keep my promise snowflake. I'm gonna show you that you fucking belong to me and do what I fucking say!"

He approach with loud thumps, steps heavy on the wooded floorboards, the remote you had thrown to deter him easily caught in his grip and abandoned on the floor. His eyes would shine dangerously, anger and lust filled, as he toweder over you, harshly grabbing your hair. He would tear you to the bedroom, ignoring your cries and attacks. The door would be slammed shut, key turned to lock it. The window would be wide open, curtains open as he turned on the light and pushed you towards the window.

"You gonna fucking defy me again, I'll make sure they all see you naked. And just to make it clear, if I need to go that far, Might as well carve my name into you, snowflake"

He squeezed your stomach harshly at that, empty threat hanging heavy above your head, as he pushed you towards the bed, his own clothes discarded fairly fast, and you followed suit. He sat down near the edge, yanking you to the floor and forcing your head onto his dick, making you gag as he went past your limits yet again. He pushed you up, onto the bed, hand on either side. You had stopped resisting, after all, what was it worth? Otherwise, you could be the first body in your garden without flowers. You didn't want to end like this, so you complied.

This was your life. You stayed with him, a twisted thing inside your heart telling you it was his way of loving you, his way of keeping you safe, but when he shut you off from the outside completely, no, since the first of these escalated nights, you knew he wasn't. This wasn't love, this was obsession, ownership. You were a hostage and you had no one to rescue you. You couldn't even help yourself.

So you stayed.

[anothersoulless]

Egoist {Moira X Reader}

You knew who she was, what she was. Even in the black suit with the purple tie and under those gloves, the long nails of her hand were always visible, the way her right hand was thinner, veiny while her other one looked healthy, her face plate always adorning her left eye, even when not working. When she left to work, you knew where she was going, what she was doing. But when she looked at you, the way she held you, you just couldn't let her go. You loved her. But maybe, she did not.

It was unusual for her to have enough time to accompany you to one of your outings with co-workers, like on holidays, bit you were glad that today, this random Friday evening she did have time. Usually she worked from early to evening, always looking to find the key to life. And yet, she would always come home to you, she would lay down in your bed and talk with you if you were awake or tucking herself into your side when you weren't. You were lucky if you saw her everyday in a week, but you didn't mind too much, what she was doing was important, no matter how you disliked her cruel ways of researching.

It was a fromal event in a restaurant, a celebration of one of your co-workers birthday. Moira hadn't stalled around much to get read, she simply opened the closet and pulled out her neatly stored black suit and a purple tie. You watched as she got dressed, her nails digging into the expensive, sensitive fabric, somewhow avoiding it getting ripped. She looked stunning, like an absolute professional - as if she was a chef of a very high ranking firm. She wasn't, she was a researcher, a fighter, a member of Blackwatch, but no one else needed to know. Today, Moira was simply a scientist - and your wife. She had tried to cover her damaged hand with gloves, even tried cutting her nails, but they didn't want to be cut, so she ended up with broken gloves, nails raking out. Hopefully no one would mind her weird appearances.

They did.

Of course they did.

They were confused and you let Moira explain - some sort of terminal generic illness she got by being exposed to too many Experiments and fumes. A lie, of course. But they believed it. That was all that mattered. After you came home that night, she unbuttoned her blouse and opened her tie, letter Ng them dangle aroung her ill frame and falling into one of the chairs, exhausted from this day full of work and the meeting. You had smiled at her, tried to help you relax, but with a quick flick of her now ungloved hand and a curt "No" you retreated to bed, leaving her alone.

You don't think she joined you that night. Maybe she did, but you were definitely not in your arms. She was just tired, nothing else. It was fine, after all, she was a hard working woman.

You stood up early next morning, making her breakfast in bed and even making her lunch to bring to work with her, one that she'd probably forget to eat again. Her mood was better when she woke up, coffee and food ready, she thanked you, gave you kiss and left no food on her plate and no coffee to cool.

You didn't register when she started to change up a bit, when she would watch you closely, not with love, like she had before, but with curiosity. Maybe it was after you had been diagnosed, doomed to live only a few months. Maybe it was when she made you the proposal.

"I can fix you. I can fix you, like I fixed myself, like I fixed all of them"

Maybe it was after you had said yes, or when she started to expirment on you. You were unsure. But the experiments hurt, even though she held your hand, held you close in her arms when you cried, nestled safe on her lap or even when she kissed your tears away, her low voice in your ear.

"You are doing so well, Love. Just a it more, okay? Stay strong for me"

Maybe you should have declined, died with her love still intact for you, before you switched from lover to experiment in her eyes. Maybe it would have avoided this outcome. You were cured, yes. But the pain was unbearable. No matter what you did, there was a surge of huge pain following your movements. After a while you got better at hiding it, accepting it. And yet, no matter what you did, even after it felt like simply thinking was painful, nothing could describe the empty hole in your chest, when you saw her pack her things.

"Where are you going, Honey? Is everything alright?" She had looked at you, her red eye piercing your soul

"Of course, Love. Everything is just fine. Blackwatch just needs me to leave for a mission, that's why I'm packing a few things"

"Why?"

"They need me, that's all. I am the only one able to tend to my fallen comrades, after all-"

"No. Why are you lying?"

She looked at you then, turning around to face you and her cold expression made you shiver. That wasn't your Moira. This was Blackwatchs' Moira. Talon Moira. Crazy-Scientist-Moira. Where did she leave to, you wondered.

"I wanted to safe you from the truth. You are awfully sensitive recently. An unexpected result of the Experiments, I believe. But it seems you have unfortunately kept your attention to detail."

You looked at her, confused. "Sensitive? I mean, you have barely talked with me, these past few weeks, you and I, we're married! We should talk a lot, sleep in the same bed! You loved me before all this and that has changed! I just want us to be like back then again. Wher eyou go to work, come home and we sleep, Where we talk in bed and I get to enjoy your company, your arms. You have been distancing yourself from me, and I don't know what to do, I'm devastated! Clueless! Not sensitive!"

Her expression fell for a moment, just a glimpse pat's that cold exterior revealing pity. "It's your fault you believed you were worth anything to me, actually. You were simply entertainment for me, nothing more." Moira turned around, grabbing her suitcase. You tried to stop her, tears falling onto the floor. "No, you don't get to leave me like this! You don't get to walk away from me with all the damage you just caused! I love you! How can you say you never loved me, when you married me?!"

"Like I said. It's your fault. I never wanted to make that impression" She pries your hand away from her arm with her long nails and opened the door while you followed her close behind, words falling out of your mouth to stop her, none of them sinking into either of you. She turned around one last time, before opening the door. "I suppose I should apologize. But you have no use for me anymore. The experiments conducted on you have brought no new revelations and your body is already at it's limit. So impossibly weak, no wonder you wouldn't be able to make it into any of our Organisations."

She handed you the key to the house.

"I never told you I was a good person. You convinced yourself I was. I told you from the very beginning what I was. I've always been an Egoist.'

The door slammed shut as you fell to the floor, crumbling.

[anothersoulless]

Return to me {Alexander Anderson x AMAB Reader}

You know Alexander from the Library you worked at - when he one day stands in front of your day at the end of the year 1999, you can not deny him shelter. And now, you definitely didn't regret it

NSFW below

NSFW cut: ᕙ⁠[⁠･⁠۝･⁠]⁠ᕗ

Not Beta read we die like {redacted}

You never thought you'd see him again, but there he was, standing right in front of you was the tall, blonde priest with green eyes that had a way to obvious scar on his cheek, asking you if you had a place for him to stay for some time. Your heart was still somewhat broken by being rejected by said man, that fateful day where you had decided to accept he would reject you and went and got it for yourself, thinking you might be able to get over it, your love for that man.

Needless to say, you didn't. You never did and didn't think you ever would. But everytime he came into the library, asking you for a book you couldn't help but falling for him. And fall you did, landing hard in the reality that he was a priest, the he was to not mingle in relationships with others, his only devotion being god and the preachings of the bible. You had started to read the books that he did, finding most to be about the occult, werewolves, vampires, witches, wendigos... And how to kill them. Books that were written like research, obviously being a piece of someone's fantasy.

But then he would come in and get children's books, about the holy Mary, about birds and trains and flowers, about the way the sun would rise and laugh, but how the clouds would always cry. When you found out he was living in an orphanage, you wanted to go so badly, it wasn't far, but it wouldn't be fair. So the next time he had come by, you had asked him out for a stroll - not a date, just to get to know him, to become friends. His positive response had surprised you.

So why, after all that time of him caring, in the end rejecting and going seperate ways, was he standing in front of you, on this winter afternoon in 1999? And where was his priest robe? He had his usual coat on, but only a thin shirt and jeans, so you didn't waste time, letting him into your house. "Alexander? What are you doing here?" "I quit. And I- You said you'd always be there when I need something, and right now, I don't have a home. Can I stay? Only until I find something for myself, of course." You turned the thought over in your head. The Basement was free, you'd only have to clean it up, maybe stash everything in your garage. "God, sit down first. Coffee, Tea or Hot Chocolate?"

Sitting down with him, each sipping on their own tea, you finally spoke up. "I really should question how you figured out where I live, but the reason you quit interests me more." He sipped on his tea. "There have been... Some mindest differences recently. Between me and the church. While I am incredibly sad to leave behind the children, I couldn't accept staying there. Not with the recent happenings in London." "London? What does the Church have anything to do with the destruction of London?" He just smiled. You never got an answer. But you guessed it was more involvement then what the newspapers told you.

Sometimes, the ex-priest talked to you about an old friend, one, who vanished back in London. You didn't know if he was dead or just disappeared in the rubble, or if it was... A different kind of friend. You looked after him a lot of the time, driving him back and forth from monestary to your home so you could get all his belongings. You even had to drive to the Vatican - Who had an own room in the Vatican?! It had taken months for him to settle comfortably in the basement, old bookshelves and boxes and dressers functioning as his only storage. You bought him a new bed, so he could at least afford a good rest - he promised to repay you, but you shook it off. It was a cheap one anyways.

You helped him find work in the city, helped him with a driver's licence and, in the end, you both scrapped your money together to get him a car. It was second-hand, fairly cheap compared to the other cars on the market, small and old-school. But he was happy with it, and so were you. After a good 3 months you finally convinced him to buy new clothes, instead of just opting for your old father's ones, it was exciting finally seeing the fashion taste of a man previously running around only in his religious tell-tale robe with the crosses.

He picked out a few checkered ones, others had random prints on it. You got him to buy a muscle shirt (mainly for your own entertainment, but also because it got really hot during summertime) and some pullovers for winter - one Pullover was relatively thin and black, covering his neck from the cold winds that would come in 6 more months. A lot of people had stared at you - maybe it was the fact you were just average size and he was - well - over 2 meters tall, maybe they held you for a couple or found him handsome. But maybe, it was because of his scar. You never knew for certain how he got it.

You saw him enter the library on a fairly quiet day, he hadn't visited for weeks, probably on one of his trips to foreign countries. He didn't take long to get to the Check-out and you were snooker to see his face. His left cheek had a big white patch on it - a compress. There was a thin line in the middle with red specks of blood. When you asked him what had happened, he had dismissed you, saying it had been an accident he didn't want to talk about. The next time, you saw the wound. It was three scratches all neatly lined up, like claw marks. It was then you had your first suspicion, the middle one deeper then the other two, the skin around it a deep purple.

After that visit, he came in again, this time, the upper and lower scratch were healed completely, the middle one still deep and purple, as if it couldn't heal. That's when you knew. You knew what he had been doing, why he had been away, why he had been injured. You had asked him to come to the staff bathroom, getting an idea. You had confronted him, he had brushed it off, yet still he let you cut around the edges, widening the wound and, effectively, overwriting the original one. The wound had healed in a few weeks, only leaving behind the nasty scar on his cheek.

In month 6 of him staying with you, he was finally able to afford his own Appartment so he started scouting. You helped him, of course, You taught him how to use the library computers, so he could scout more effectively, he actually understood it really fast. A smart man, he was. The landline phone, he had figured out within a few weeks of you introducing it to him and he called the monestary every weekend. You liked to listen. He would be a good father, you decided, when you heard him talk with the kids, reassuring them he didn't forget them and that he would stop by from time to time.

He held his word, always arriving to any of their birthdays with a personalized gift. You were happy to be able to accompany him. Some of the nuns were a bit suspicious first, thinking you might have taken advantage of Alexander, but they were quick to trust you and your words - you did love him, but you'd never try to take advantage of him - even though that wasn't something that they needed to know.

Alexander had found the Appartment he wanted to live in during month 8. He was happy, you were not. You offered him to stay for longer, so that he could pay the bills as well - which was something he had totally forgotten about. He lost the Appartment and you felt guilty.

But when winter rolled around again, seeing him in that long-sleeve neck Pullover, paired with thick, dark grey jeans with a fashionable belt and a silver cross necklace, you nearly forgot to breathe, or that you had been feeling guilty. After the incident with the Appartment, things had started to change. You noticed he looked at you fondly, for longer than normal, he smiled whenever you did something - if it was a greeting, rambling, making food - you had noticed he was a way better cook and picked up habits of you - humming along to your music or just watching a show. It seemed weird. Whenever asked, he would just say that he was happy you had been the one to take him in.

On his birthday, you had taken him out to a more expensive restaurant, treating him to something you called "culture cruise". You introduced him to proper Italian traditions that he had missed out on in the orphanage, traditional food that wasn't served there, you showed him a cinema and he was blown away by the movie, not being able to believe it. He had missed out on so much, leading such a humble, yet dangerous, life, that you were more than adamant about giving him a life he deserves. A life full of care, gratefulness, and, if possible, love.

He had liked his birthday, even though, in the end, he admitted, that it would have been enough to spent it with you - but that he was thankful you wanted to show him your world. You asked him to show you his, and, even though he dismissed it now, he would show you later on. After getting home, there was something weird. Between you two, of course, not in your house. You both wanted to retiree for the night, but again, both of you lingered in the living room near the stairs up to your room and down to his. "I'm glad you liked today, I was a bit worried", you admitted out of the blue. He scratched his neck, his muscles showing under the thin pullover. You questioned how he wasn't cold.

He was quiet a bit, before speaking up. "I... I loved this glimpse into your world. It was educating and it meant a lot to you, so I.. You mean a lot to me and so does your world. So I thank you dearly for taking me along, sunshine." You smiled again, wider this time, liking the nickname maybe a little too much. After that it took a few more moments of silence, for both of you to say your goodbyes and go to sleep. You, however, were unable to, thinking about the way he was treating you, how much he cared about you and your world. He really was a gentleman, if you were sure about him feeling similarly about you, the way you felt about him, then you would be glad to, maybe, someday, call him your husband.

Your first kiss came the next day. It wasn't your first overall, but it was the first with him. Maybe it had been the music and jokefully romantically made dinner - you genuinely just wanted to recreate the ambiance of the restaurant, there was never an intention to make it feel so appealing. But joking around with him, about some of the older, black and white movies and the more recent coloured ones, him joking with you there was a moment of you playfully leaning into his side, lamenting over something random, like the candles, while he calmly, in an equal joking matter grabbed your arm softly. You shot up to kiss him on the cheek, something he, apparently, also felt like doing.

It had taken not even a second, before you pulled back, apologizing profusely, you face flushed - as was his. He smiled, saying it was no matter. You sat down to eat, face fixed in the food. He stood there for a moment longer, before he asked, bashfully: "Would you like to do it again?" You looked up, his gaze locked onto you, as if he felt no shame. Why would he, you thought. It was a mistake, nothing more. But why did he offer? Did he.. were your suspicions really correct? He didn't move, standing there. The offer he had just given you hang heavy in the air, debating whether to act on it or not.

You chair creaked when you pushed it back a bit. "Would you like to do it again?" Alexander's face turned a deeper red than before. He was quiet, before admitting a small "yes". It was then that you stood up and closed in on him.

"then, I would like one as well"

The second kiss was really worth it. It was long, gentle and loving. It felt warm, comforting - it felt good. On a completely unrelated note, the food was delicious as well. You just loved eating this dish - especially with Alexander in front of you, the kiss and it's implications - even though it was less of an implication and more of a flashy Broadway Sign, after all, a kiss - no, technically two - seemed like a very exclusive thing that two people wouldn't do if they just were friends, unprompted by any dare.

Long story short, after dinner, there was a deep talk and you both decided to try. And try you did. It worked out fine, the only thing that really changed was the few kisses, the cuddle-sessions and the trips - now dates - to town. It wasn't really a secret, but it also wasn't really public. It's that weird in between-thing, where you knew, but you just weren't quite ready to tell everyone - but showing wasn't really a problem. Alexander had the habit to keep you close - it was a habit he had picked up one or two months after being at your home, but now, he just seemed to be more open about it, actively seeking you out. This day, it had been particularly bad and after getting home, you had asked him about it. He seemed taken aback.

"I'm Sorry if I overstepped. I didn't mean to, I'll keep it in mind next time"

You sighed. "No, no, Alex, that's not- that's not what I meant. I was simply curious on why you did it, I apologize if it came over wrong"

Alexander looked at you for a few seconds, contemplating if he should tell you. Then: "I am scared"

You could tell he wasa bit uncomfortable, but you couldn't just leave it here. You took him by the hand, setting him down on the couch and sitting next to him, your own hand in his. "If you want to, you can tell me. I'm here for you." Alexander seemed torn, it was the first time you had seen him this conflicted, this... This pained.

"London was last year.", He started and stopped right after. It clicked into place for you, but you wanted him to go on. You squeezed his hand reassuringly, lightly stroking your thumb over his hand in yours, a smile on your lips, as you silently told him to take his time. "It was... I mean you read about it, of course, but... I was there. It was horrible and I- I lost more friends than just one." Oh, that was something you actually hadn't thought about, but it made sense. "One was my student. Her name was Yumiko and she was great. Heinkel nearly lost their life as well - a lot of the division died, nearly all, even though I told them to stay back. I lost so many friends, when I tried to save them all"

He took his hand away then, covering his eyes with his hands and bending forward, hiding his face. Your smile dropped. He didn't loose one person, he didn't loose a few. He lost everyone. You got down on your knees, sliding between his legs and taking his hands away gently. He wasn't crying, not yet anyways - but his eyes were shining bright with the promise of salty water spilling over any second. "Were you scared to loose me too?" He nooded then. You got up from this position, pulling him into a hug. " You won't, Alexander. That life is beyond you now, it's behind us both. We are here together, we are here, Alex. We are alive." You pressed his hand to you heart. "We are both alive."

That day was one you never forgot. Alexander Anderson, previously a priest and in charge of an orphanage, as well as something with the occult, member of a division you had never heard of, was traumatized. He had been vulnerable with you, around you. He had shared his pain and you had accepted it, accepted him and all the implications and complications that came with it. How could he ever hope to find someone better? He didn't, and he never would, because you, he was convinced, were the best choice he could ever make.

When one year had run by, you realized he had never slept in the same bed as you. Not even when one of you fell asleep on the couch, he would always be gone and in bed instead. So today, you tried to get him to sleep with you - not in a sexual sense, by God, only sleeping next to each other, maybe (hopefully) cuddling. That was the day you realized no one had cover taught this man anything about relationships or explained That, when the bible quoted "thou shall not lie with a woman, if thy art not married", or whatever the actual quote said, it didn't mean sleeping in the same bed, but sleeping together.

So that was a conversation you needed to have, and, in retrospect, it was fairly funny, but back then, it was undeniably weird to be the one to give a grown man, which you were together with, sex education. That didn't seem like your job, but now you stood here, and he stood there, and that was the situation you were in. "So uh, the Bible doesn't really mean sleep, Alexander. It means sex." He had heard that word uttered in disgust and disdain by the nuns that had raised him, heard more about this being an act of either love or lust between a man and a woman. He never knew that was what the line meant, nor did he know what sex actually was.

So he disclosed it all to you. You shook your head, in denial that any institute for raising and educating children would stop at sex and don't even mention it to them. What if they would have gone and discovered it on their own, maybe way too young or having to deal with the consequences alone? "Well, traditionally speaking, in most cultures and religions sex is between a man and a woman, but not exclusive. Men can do it with men and women with women. In a traditional sense it's something very intimate, something you do with one you trust fully. Someone you love, if we keep it extremely Christian."

Alexander nodded, seemingly soaking up everything you were saying. "So uhm, do you know the difference between make and female anatomy" "I raised children" point taken, stupid question. "Okay so, Sex is when you put your uh-" god this was more embarrassing than showing and recommending someone erotica and explaining in detail how exactly it was interesting. "So you put your penis into the vagina of the woman and just... Go." "Just go?" "Just... Just go, yes." "How does it work between the others?" Oh lord, have mercy. "So between a man and a man, it just goes in the ass, or they get themselves off with hands or mouths, which is similar in that case with women. There are also specific toys that help."

Alexander seemed a bit puzzled, but the red taint on his cheeks made you realize, he was also embarrassed about this, even though you were sure you were way more red - your head was steaming and cooking your brain. At least that's what it felt like. "But what do you mean with just go?" You just wanted for a portal to hell to open up. At this point, burning you skin off in an eternal hellfire seemed more acceptable than this. "Just go. Like... In and out" "Like when you need to fill a tire of a bike with air?" "Yes. Absolutely. Like a piston, in some ways. Obviously that's not all there is to it, but that is essentially how it works. Have you never tried to uhm- do it yourself?"

You had never seen him so flustered. "No! That was forbidden, seen as a sin!" "Hey, there's genuinely nothing wrong with it. It's actually quite healthy. You're not part of the Church anymore, you don't need to abide to their beliefs." He seemed to stop. Like he was a computer that just shut down because you opened three tabs on the browser and caused a Microsoft error. He had never thought about that before, you realized. It's just been a year away from the church, the place that raised him, homed him, gave him an occupation - of course everything was still indoctrinated in him. How could you expect something else?

You went to bed seperately.

The next day was still a bit awkward, but by the second day everything returned to normal. He even decided to actually do sleep in your bed with you - only after about a month of consideration. You were happy, however. If he was comfortable, then you were too. Alexander had become the thing you thought your life revolved around. When you went out to go shopping, you immediately looked if you could bring him something from your trip. When you were cooking, you thought about how he would cook it, or how he would like it. And when you were cuddling, you thought about the way he was warm, that he was alive, alive with you. Days passed like this, weeks, months even.

"Sunshine?" You hummed positively, looking up from your book. He had been reading one of his own, a recommendation from you. "I was curious." You hummed again, putting your mark in you book and closing it. "I don't know if it's an approprita question." "Shoot your shot, dear." He seemed to think for a second. "I have been thinking about something you said." You grew a bit impatient. "When?" "I don't know, a few months ago. You said I wasn't part of the church anymore and thus do not need to abide their rules" "Dear, whatever you want to ask, just ask. I won't crucify you. And the church won't either."

He closed his book as well, scratching his beard stubble. "Maybe we could try it out?" Before you could ask what he meant, he elaborated, realizing he hadn't said what. "Sex, I mean. Apologies if I'm overstepping-" You nearly choked on your own spit. What. The. Hell. What had you done to this man? He had been so shy, so embarrassed about it, and now, he sat there in front of you, asking you such a question. You mean, damn. If that isn't some quick character development. If you were serious though, you had thought about it as well. Of course, you didn't want to bring it up, as not to pressure him. So this, was perfect.

"Sure, let's go." He was taken aback slightly by the way you stood up, starting to walk to the stairs. "Why go?" "To the bedroom, dear. Yours or mine?" He stood up as well, stopping next to you. "Yours." You sat him down on the bed. "I suppose you don't know more than I told you?" He shook his head. "Don't worry, I will take the lead." "You did this before?" "Yeah, but never like this." "In charge?" "That. And with someone I love."

ᕙ⁠[⁠･⁠۝･⁠]⁠ᕗ

You took his hands and let them rest on your waist, as you settled on his lap, going for a kiss. You pushed yourself close, shamelessly resting on his crotch. You pulled away, taking one of his big, calloused hands and sliding it up, to rest next to your chest. "You can touch me, you know." He seemed hesitant, but you went in for another kiss, keeping his mouth open this time, your tongue brushing his, animating him to participation. He was eager to follow your lead. His hand slipped to your back instead, holding you close. You pushed back again, leaving him some room.

Your thumb pressed on his scar, the slightly elevated, jagged surface soft and yet hard beneath your fingers. You pushed your hand under his jaw, pushing his head back and starting to kiss along his neck, his throat releasing a loud, shuddering breath, as the hand that had pushed his head back slowly trailed down his throat, cold fingers ghosting over the warm skin, fingers barely touching him. You other hand guided his hand to your neck, squishing it in his large hand. His other hand, still on your waist, gripped you harshly, it brought a slightly hurtful feeling up in you, but it made you feel secure.

You pulled back, Alexander finally finding the courage to explore your body, his head snapping back almost immediately, eyes fixating on yours. His gorgeous green eyes glowing behind his glasses. You slowly reached up, but he stopped you before you could take them off. "No. I don't-" "Okay" and just like that he was back to roaming your body, enjoying as your hands slid over his. A few moments later you sat up on your knees, pulling off your shirt. Alexander seemed a bit flustered at first, but got over it fairly quickly.

You kissed him again, your body shifting a bit, pressing close again, his hand trapped between you bodies, as he leaned back, other hand supporting his weight. You stood up, pulling him with you as well. You discarded all of your clothes, watching him do the same. It was mesmerizing how a small bit of his torso showed when he lifted his arms up, pulling his own shirt over his head. The muscles in his arms flexed slightly, his shirt falling to the ground next to him. Scars were all over his body, the cross of the silver nacklace resting where his collarbone was, a cross tattooed onto his skin with the words "yes jesus" in it. You recalled seeing said design on his gloves when he was still a priest. His trousers were the next to go it was the first time Alexander's head was actually lower than yours.

He sat down on the bed again, back resting against the headboard. You did the same you did before - sitting in his lap. Just, this time, you could feel whenever the muscles in his leg twitched when you bit down or kissed or sucked in a particular way, felt how he tensed and relaxed when you shifted your body. It was captivating, the expression he made. His eyes were on you, the entire time he was focused on you, nothing else. His hands never left you, pulling you close. He was breathing loud, not quite panting, but close enough. And then, when you actually felt him, you realized a grave mistake. You couldn't show him, because you didn't expect this and had no condoms, and no lube, and he definitely had neither either.

"Alex, dear" he hummed. "We can't do it quite the way you want it yet, but we can do it differently." Before he could ask why, you continued. "We don't have protection. I'll go out and buy some, but not right now. I can show you other ways." The Catholic was silent, before a breathless "yes" left his lips. You kissed him again, sucking on his lower lip, before pulling back and spitting in your hand. "It's not the best, sorry" he wanted to reply, but when your hand ghosted over the head of his cock, before you slick hand closed around it pushed him into a whole new sensation. It was weird, to be touched there by someone else. But not unwelcome.

He grasped at your hips, pushing you down and towards him a bit, your own erection brushing his slightly elevated thigh. He pulled you into another kiss, breaths mixing with each other as both of you tried to breathe through your noses, Oxygen soon running out despite your best efforts. You pushed back a bit, getting into a more comfortable position. Your hand gabbed him a bit harder, a loud moan being your response. You slowly started pumping up and down in a slow pace with no constant rythm. Sometimes it was all the way to the head, sometimes only a short, cut off up and down shifting.

You twisted your hand, lifting a few fingers and adding them again from time to time. Alexander's Head rested against the wall, his mouth opened, sounds leaving his vocal chords in low hums or gasps, vulnerable sound that he trusted you with. You hummed as well, seeing one of his hands grabbing the sheet, crumbling them. You wouldn't be surprised if he ripped them. The other was still bruising your hip, a thrum of slight pain shoot up, a thrum of the love he shared for you. You hummed, your hips pushing themselves forwards on his thigh to gain some friction, a movement immediately stopped by you.

This wasn't about you. This was about him. A moan escaped your lips. "Alexander-" You felt him twitch when you changed the pressure, tighenting and loosening your grip in random intervals. He moaned, trying to hold your stare, while his hand wanted to fall back. His mouth was slightly open, his breathing loud, chopped and fast. You never knew what a sight you missed out on and he never on what kind of pleasure. This Sight, you were sure, was one you'd never be able to forget, if he would leave you know... You're done for. But the way , he looked into your eyes, torso jolting forwards whenever electric signals went through his muscles, he was in just the same situation.

"Sunshine-" You knew he was close, when you felt the sticky liquid leaking onto your fingers and when he involuntarily started thrusting his hips up in a jerking motion, as if his body told him what to do and he had no choice but to comply. When he did tip over the edge, you had the feeling as if he was about to crush your hip and hand, but if this is how you lost them, it'd be worth it. The way he calmed down, his chest rising and falling abruptly, noticeably slowing down as you removed your hand, watching as the white-ish colour leaked out, gathering and spilling over the edge, cascading down as if it was a water fountain without pressure.

You smiled patiently, warmly, even though you yourself were extremely desperate. You waited until he came back to you, finally leaving this state of pure bliss. His head was flushed red, the red spreading down his neck and disappearing into his shoulders, but he slowly regained his colour. "Dear lord in heaven...", he breathed, gaping air in as much as he could, "what have you done to me?" You chuckled and smiled, "Just falling in love, my dear. Just falling in love." Alexander laughed at that, his hand on your hip grabbing your waist an coupling you back in, lips meeting again. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're a witch that out a spell on me" You grinned, raising your hand before his eyes and wriggling your fingers. With a darker, goofy voice you ominously proclaimed: "I put a spell on you~~"

He kissed you again, his smile clear as day. You pulled back and whispered: "and now you're mine" Again, he smiled and you noticed his glasses were slightly tilted, so you took them off, driving your fingers through his hair, which was now a bit longer then when he came to you, and you put them back on. "How did you feel, Alexander, dear?" "Really good... Does it... Feel the same for you?" You hummed positively, his eyes flickering down to his thigh between your legs, he noticed your legs were a tad bit closer than before, the way your height shifted backwards, as if trying to get more and yet less touch at the same time.

"Can I help you? Can you guide me?" "You really don't need to, Alexander. We can take it slow." "What if I want to?" You breathed in. Okay. So you were doing this. You smiled again, and took his hand in yours, guiding it towards yourself. "Take it slow, Alexander, there is no need to rush, okay?" He nodded, following your lead. You leaned back a bit, your hand letting go of his and switching to his wrist, his hand bumpino against your erection. "This is the same I did to you" you took the hand you had just left and pulled him towards you, as he started to lean forwards to meet you halfway, guiding his hand to wrap around yourself

You hummed. "Now just-" "go?", He smiled at you and you let out a laugh through your nose at the throwback. "Just go." And go he did. He was careful at first, his hand staying straight as he only pumping his hand up and down, pressure nearly unnoticeable. There wasn't anything building just yet, your desire for something being satisfied. "You can experiment, Alex, I'm not gonna break", you smiled, your hand resting on the one he held himself up with. That was when his hand started moving with experimental paces, faster, slower. He applied pressure however he saw fit, a delicious thrum starting to build.

His hand alone made you feel really good, despite the basic way he used it and, oh did you wonder what he would be able to do if he was more experienced. You hummed and he applied harsh pressure suddenly, your hips thrusting up a bit. You looked at Alexander, his green eyes glimmering, as you found them still looking at you - your face. You moaned at that, your hand reaching over and pulling him even closer. His movements slowed, before he stopped completely, before his fingers feathered out a bit and he set a different pace, a different pressure. You let his shoulder go, focusing again on keeping yourself sitting.

He had an irregular pace, the harshness and actual pace of his pumps being vastly different from each other - he learned. From nothing but the things you did to him. His hand was huge compared to yours, fingers wide and calloused. So when he pushed back to your head, his spread fingers brushed the thin line at the top and you jolted like you had just experienced an electric shock, a loud gasp escaping you as well - you hadn't expected this. He stopped dead in his ministrations, studying you for a minute. Your face was flushed, you were leaned back onto your hands, eyes nearly closed, but not quite, focusing on his own.

He looked down, pushed his hand down and did the same as before, with the slide of his finger over the slit - as he got not even a similar reaction he pressed his finger ghosted over it slowly again, and another jolt ran through your body. Alexander smiled and you knew you were in for it now. He took your shoulder and gently pushed you down on the bed, kneeling between your legs. His hand lowered from the sensitive spot and his other hand sneaked there instead, finger pressing and exploring exactly where it was, eyes never leaving yours. And when he found it, oh dear lord in heaven, you prayed he'd have some mercy left for you.

With the combined experimenting pumps and moving of his fingers you were quick to grasp his shoulders, squeezing and pulling, your high approaching. You body shivered, as you called his name, fluids spilling onto his hand, as you hands gripped harder and your head fell back, breath quick but steadily slowing down. Alexander didn't look away. He sat there, a bit confused on what to do with his hand, so he just... Held it over his lap. Your cum dropping onto his bare legs. You shifted into a sitting position and gave him a smile, before noticing how lost he looked. You didn't waste time to hurry and get some tissues to wipe himself - and your hand clean with.

ᕙ⁠[⁠･⁠۝･⁠]⁠ᕗ

After you pushed him to the shower, both of you opting to just do so together, because, why would you care now about nakedness of all times? You both got dressed, before you changed the sheets and, even though he offered to help, you ordered him to just wait a few minutes. He did. Then you gestured for him to sit on the bed with you. "So, That's what it feels like." "Everytime?" You shook your head. "Not everytime without exception. It might be more or less intense or satisfying." He seemed to hesitate to ask you the next question, but you just answered it before he could ask: "I am very satisfied, Alexander"

He smiled and took your hand, standing up and pulling you to your feet. "Let's get some snacks", he offered, giving you a kiss. You smiled as well, giving him a peck on his cheek. "Yep, let's go!"