#lines in the sand drabble

[needmorereading]

Loved this so much! ❤️❤️

Bur imagine Sy taking his girlfriend's cellphone (Idk if you can bring them on deployment, but let's imagine you can) and he sees that she has him saved as "Future Hubby❤️" instead oh the "Captain Syverson" that she had when he first came to his unit.

Being a very private person, Sy had no intention of peeking into her phone. He knew he can sometimes come off as a little possessive, and of course, the fact that he was her superior made things a bit 'passionate' between them from time to time.

But as she was heading toward the private shower in his quarter, she threw the towel over her shoulder and shouted at his direction, "babe, do me a solid and call my phone? I can't seem to find it in your mess."

Sitting naked on the bed, Sy nodded and grabbed his cell. While the line was ringing something vibrated and lighted up beneath the pile of clothes.

"Classic, Jess" he murmured and leant down to fish the phone beneath the sweaty pile. Stretching back up, he held her little Nokia in his huge hand and peered at the screen when his gut suddenly dropped. In big, bold letters a missed call was registered under:

“Future hubby”

It was never clear to him what she wanted, the tough little spitfire who once fought him like hell and refused to be in a relationship with him. Yet here she was, a woman who suddenly believed she could have a life with him. A family too maybe, at least he hoped.

Fuck, he loved her, he loved her and hated her right now, for making his eyes a bit teary.

Throwing the phone on the pillow, he rose up and stepped into the shower. Jess could hardly even react when she was pinned belly against the tile and Syverson's thick cock brushed against her ass.

"Fuck, Sy, what the fuck?!" she panicked and turned her head to the side, tensing as he began biting on her nape "we need to be ready to leave in less than 20 minutes, and I'm still sore..." 

Sy ignored her complaints and wrapped his massive arms around her, squeezing her in his embrace, "I love you so fucking much, woman" he murmured. 

And it all it took.

[tojisteddy]

Ruthless

or: Country!Simon catches you attempting to tag his property, of course he has to teach you a lesson.

cw: 3.6k words, 18+ mdni, Country!Simon, alt universe, no use of y/n, some plot with smut, dub-con, spanking, breeding kink, p in v, creampie, age gap (Simon 29, reader 23), primal play & reencounter (if you tilt your head), pet names (little girl, city broad, lucky), fingering, lite pussy pronouns, degradation, lucky!reader

a/n: a scrapped Drabble turned into a full story cause I love plot

part 2!!! <3

You were running like your life depended on it.

It was dumb for you to even attempt to tag the Riley barn to begin with.

You knew that, your friends knew that, anyone in town would’ve warned you otherwise.

It all started with a little end of college fun, wreck havoc like the good ole days. Nothing out the ordinary. Something that supposed to be a silly little prank, saying goodbye to college and hello to adulthood by spray paint and a little egging.

Was it a little too much for your liking? Yes.

Just plain rude and disgusting because at the end of the day, what exactly did Ghost do to deserve any of this? But peer pressure is a nasty, annoying, bitch. Regardless of age.

The Riley Ranch had been rumored as evil and haunted, the only people who really interacted with the land being other farmers. Even when Simon Riley, the last standing of the family, came to church (on the rarest occasions), people kept their distance. Afraid his families “bad” energy would spread over to them.

They called him Ghost.

There was a fire at the families home, started by Ghosts father who was always in a rage. Your father made sure your family stayed clear of him when you visited, he wasn’t too kind to quote, ‘big headed, posey, no good, city slickers.’ No one thought his rage would grow so large into trying to kill his whole family.

No one one besides Ghost made it out that night, there was rumored to be a large burn mark on his back to prove it.

You’d gotten found too fucking quick, “What the hell do you think you’re doin?” His voice booming on the highway road.

Simon Riley was blessed to have ears like an owl. Heard the car pull up and stop on his property, the rumbling of the engine— a beat passes— the car doors slamming shut and the far off hushed giggles. Nothing new, people had passed his property to spook whoever the hell they were with. Try to show how “evil spirits” ran rampant on his land, even if they were, he hadn’t ask for them to be there. But they’d never stop. They’d do it before.

They’d do it again.

But he heard that can of spray paint shake and his boots hit the floor before he even realized it.

Not the brown farmhouse gate he’d spent so long sanding down as a child with the help of his grandfather. Not the white ranch fence he’d spend so long getting together as soon as the land was properly handed to him and in his name, that’d he hand painted himself and fixed up the grass so people knew better than to drop any litter there.

No fucking way.

Your friends were already in the mustang you’d arrived in, those bastards, revving the engine and zooming off. You dropped the can, more spray getting on the grass fuck, fuck, fuck— your brown eyes slowly looked up, meeting a more than livid pair blue eyes.

You wanted to squeak out, ‘im sorry’ but where would there be room for that? Not in between the ranch fence that already had a squiggly line and crooked smiley face with black spray paint on it created by yours truly. There would absolutely be no room for an apology when his face was already screwed up, jaw clenching from underneath the bandana that hid his face, eyes narrowing into slits.

Well duh, babe. Move those feet!

And you did, turning at a 90 degree angle and sprinting like it was the end of the world. Ghost mumbled a ‘god damn it’, and ran right after you, his boot quickly meeting a carton of unopened eggs.

Oh you were definitely in for it now.

You ran through the Egyptian wheat, tall as the eye can see, green leaves scratching your arms and legs. You prayed to God there wasn’t any crazy animals hiding in there. You were panting, taking a quick glance behind you and you could only hear rustling of the large plants that surrounded you, feet hitting the floor.

Then you heard a distant yell in the field, “[+], you get back here!”

Well it wasn’t exactly the hardest to spot you out, you looked like your mother— who looked like her mother. You came from a family known for actually being good people, never hesitating to help or providing when need be. You’d met Mr. Riley a couple times in your 23 years of life. Quick instances that you vaguely remember. But you knew his face, and he knew yours.

Your mom had been one of the few good people making sure he was well taken care of when he was younger, she couldn’t raise him like she had wanted to with having to travel back and forth from the city for work as a children’s author. But she’d made sure he was taken care of in whatever home he was placed in, encouraged him to join the Boys and Girls club, something to ground him.

“Just needs someone to look after ‘em is all,” she’d ensisted while braiding your hair one night before heading to meet him at his group home, fingers weaving through your curls with purpose, you were around eight. “Some kids need a lil extra love, show ‘em someone’s there for ‘em. Simon’s one of those kids, so is your older brother, even though he’s a pain in my side at times. They’re all good in their core— their heart. It’s important to have someone nurture it. Gods called me to do that.”

Though, the relationship strained when the foster system let him go. “He’s just having boy troubles. Boys go through those weird hormones when they hit a certain age. Wants to prove ‘imself as a man. They get real hard headed [+]. He’ll get over it ‘nd pull through. He always does,” she’d say. So certain. Undoubting. Like a sixth sense.

And Simon did manage well enough, clearly, for him to have a proper farm for himself, one that was properly taken care of and thriving. You’d visited with your mom two years back. It was so clear to you now. Your mother practically smothering him in a hug when she got close enough. Simon was awkward at first, but accepted it. His eyes and whole body softing by her touch. She’d been family when no one else would be.

He looked towards you, you met a gorgeous shade of blue, long blonde lashes to match his short blonde hair, face with a few noticeable scars and half his face hidden under a black bandana. You were standing a ways off so you couldn’t hear what he or your mother was saying, but you saw him nod toward you. Your mother saying something and him nodding in response. She waved you over,

“[+] you know Simon— I mean, Mr. Riley since you’re a grown man now, ain’t that right.” She laughed.

“Whatever you want ma’am.” He looks down at you and extends his hand. You take it, butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and give it a firm shake.

“Good seein you.” It wasn’t just words, he was sincere, caring. Like seeing an old friend.

You nodded, “ ‘S good seeing you too.”

He showed you the farm after that in his truck. The big house that was farther toward the woods, properly fixed after the fire a decade ago, the Egyptian wheat field, the horses and chickens and the new blue barn he was building to accommodate them, the horse training area used to break in horses no one else would. It was a lot of land, a lot of work, but you could tell by the sound of his husk voice, he was proud of himself and the work he’d been able to accomplish. Even more happy when your mom praised him.

It finally clicked: that barn— and right on time, you’d caught sight of it. Not the one Mr. Riley had been fixing when you visited, the old one. Large and in charge that had old wood, and was definitely falling apart. But you made a bee line for it anyway.

What other option did you have?

Your heart was practically beating out of your chest, nerves on a high because you didn’t even notice how close Ghost was to you before you ducked so he couldn’t grab you. Kicking his shin and dashing towards the barn that was bones.

“You damn brat! fuck me!” He cursed, hopping to ease the new pain on his leg before running right after you.

You undid the large wooden latch, sliding the doors open and immediately trying to slide them close. But his hand shot through the opening, a shiver runs down your spin.

Up the steps you went, the only place you could go, and Ghost was right on your heels, quick, almost silent— didn’t call him Ghost for no reason. You tripped and fell on a pile of hay and wild chickens went fluttering and clucking down to the barn floor, clouding your vision. Next thing you knew, Ghost finally caught you. His hands grabbed hold of both of your arms as you rolled around and thrashed underneath him.

“You fuckin asshole! Let me go!” You grunted, trying to kick your legs where the sun didn’t shine but completely missing when the older man closed your legs, gripping them together under your knees in his hands. He had you like a pig about to be roasted.

“You ruin my property but I’m the asshole?” The fucking audacity of you. “Gonna teach you a fuckin lesson cause clearly they don’t teach you city folk manners.”

With ease, Ghost sat himself down on one of the old hay bails, bringing you over his lap. He grunts, keeping you as still as you can, and then like thunder— his large calloused hand comes down to your plump ass, echoing in the empty barn.

“Mr. Riley!” You gasp, your head shoots up, eyes widening— there’s no way- was he giving you a spanking? The next one yanks you out of your thoughts, brutal, harsh, that makes you scream his name again, “Mr. Riley, that’s enough!” But he’s completely ignoring you.

“Spray painting my fences,” SMACK!

“Tryin to egg my house,” SMACK!

“‘Nd Ruinin my fuckin crops?!” SMACK!

“You’ve lost,” SMACK! “you’re damn,” SMACK! “mind! little girl!” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK!

You’re crying and whimpering, as his hand continues forming ripples in your ass. You’d gotten one singular whopping your whole life, from your grandma for breaking her good vase when she told you no ball throwing in the house. Life altering from one incident that made you into the goodest girl there ever was.

And then there’s this predicament, one that ripped your soul in two. One half fueled with hatred for doing something so crude— so audacious. And then the other that’s struggling to keep itself contained. one more hit that meets your tender bottom, one that hits you in a place you didn’t realize was boiling over— a smack to the ass that forces an egregious moan out of your trembling plump lips.

Simon stills, his eyes flicking over the state of you. You’re shaking, head down and legs finally not kicking. But he sees the way you try to hide yourself further into his lap, because you and he both know you just moaned because of a little whooping.

Oh— you're crazy.

You’d unknowingly created a fire and Simon would add lighter fluid to it.

He lifts the bottom of your short flower patterned dress, just to peak, you jump but still, your heart pounding even louder than it had before. And it’s a sight for the man to behold— your underwear soaked like the damn ocean. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to bring the hands down to hide the slick that was ever growing.

“D-don’t look.” You sniffle. Too damn cute.

But there’s a snicker, something that makes you look back at him and his eyes are shining with mischief, “My god, you’re a filthy lil thang, aren’t’chu?” It’s almost rhetorical, he’s not asking you, he’s asking your cunt. “Didn’t know you city broads were like that, learn somethin new every day, don’t you?”

You yelp when he yanks your underwear down to your knees, thrashing around once again, but Simon keeps you still. Your pretty pussys glistening as bright as sun on water, slick all over your fat second pair of lips. He brushes his fingers against them, sending shivers up your spine, you cant help but arch further into his touch.

You whine, “Mr. Riley-“

“—Shhhhh, gotta hear her,” he murmured, slowly slipping a finger in your drenched hole. Your pussys practically sputtering out with every thrust of his finger, slipping another one and coating it perfectly. He takes them out, sucking up the juices on his tongue that you’ve left on them, spitting down on your hole before stuffing his fingers back into you. He hums in satisfaction as you lose your mind, “such a fuckin slut, you just get this wet for anyone, don’t you?”

Your eyes reach the back of your head, breath hitching, “Nooo, I don’t- I wouldn’t!— ooh- agh- Mr. Riley!” your interrupting yourself with your own moans. Whatever anger you had before, folding into nothing.

He finally let’s go of your hands and you grip on to his leg, nails clawing at his jean cover thighs. Your stomach tightens running away as your orgasm builds but Simon follows, thrusting his fingers into your gummy walls even more, curving them to find your sweet spot with determination.

“Eaaasy now, don’t want to hurt you. Be good ‘nd cum. Know you want to, make a mess all over me darlin’.”

And that’s all it takes, with a twitch and a squeal, your cumming all over his hand. Simon thrusts his fingers a couple times, watching the wave of euphoria wash over you before sucking one of fingers clean, then bringing the other to your mouth.

“Come on, don’t be fuckin uppity, taste it lil girl” he tsked, you take the middle finger in your mouth, tasting your own arousol, swirling your tongue around it. Slowly pulling your head back with a ‘pop.’ It all goes straight to the blondes aching dick.

You hear it, the unbuckling of his belt, your stomach touching the tint that had built because of you. your mind finally snaps out of the trance he’s got you in. You barley manage to get out of his lap, scrambling through the hay, tripping over your underwear, on your as knees. Giving Simon the perfect view of your tender ass and the slick that’s dripping down to your thigh before you turn when you meet a wall. Pushing yourself into it.

“We- shit- someone- someone’ll come!” You ramble out, panting, still feeling the after effects of your orgasm. Your eyes avert to anything in this barn besides the man infront of you. But he made his way over to you, slow, stalking. And once he’s on his knees and hovering above you, he springs his cock from from his boxers. The blonde is hung, large and girthy, his tip strawberry red and leaking pre cum.

He bends down, sliding his fat cock between your wet folds, and then smacking his tip on your clit creating a plap, plap, plap. You can’t help but whimper at the sensation.

“You want it don’t you?” he whispers in your ear, taunting you, goosebumps wave over your skin. “Don’t want me all the way,” he traces over your belly, and then pokes right where your uterus is, “up here, hm?”

“Don’t want me to make you feel good pretty girl? Don’t wanna feel it once?”

Maybe it’s the adrenaline that’s pulsing through you, the way he’s looking down on you like you’re pathetic, dick crazed maniac. And maybe that’s exactly what you are, just once— you just want feel him stir your guts just. this. once.

“I do.”

And your soft voice is just enough for the brute to yank your legs open, Simon throwing your legs over his forearms and spreading your pretty hole open with just the tip. The man starts bullying himself inside the tightness of your pink walls.

He’s big. He’s too big. You hiccup, shoving at his shoulder while he’s splitting you in half, “Mr.Riley, ‘s so much! hicc- can’t. I can’t.”

He croons, slowly thrust more and more of his veiny length into you. “Come oooon city broad, thought you could take it? Don’t go runnin. Been runnin from me alllll this time little girl.”

“Bet you won’t do no shit like that again, ruining my damn property,” Simon hissed, smacking down your clit a few times. “Gonna fuck that nonsense outta that lil brain ‘f yours.”

“I won’t! I promise! Mmmph- I’ll be good! S-so good just for you. Always for you.” You mewled, one hands clawing at the wall behind you and other hand at his shoulder. He finally feels it, his cock reaching the very hilt of you, balls smacking your ass crack. The damn obscene sounds your syrupy pussy is making to keep him inside you, and his tip giving your cervix the messiest and he’s sure, the first kiss it’s ever received.

A baby.

You’d look so fucking sexy, being all plump with his fucking baby. He pushes your thighs back to you head further, jackhammering into your heat rough and mean.

“Five,” he mumbles, groping at one of your tits in his hand. Squeezing and kneading it like a vice.

“Wha-“

“You’ll give me five ‘f ‘em, won’t’cha? Make me a daddy.”

He’s talking nonsense, partially. Simon wasn’t dead set on five, he’d wanted a baseball team but he’d settle for whatever you wanted. One would do if it caused you too much strain. He’d take care of you and the baby, buy you whatever you asked for, have you sat on that back porch, in a rocking chair. Your hand on your full belly, watching him as he worked all lovingly.

Simon breath hitches, rolling his hips into yours with a grunt, fucking drunk at the thought of it. The thought of you, all while your pussy was squeezing on him like you were reading his fucking mind.

“C-christ almighty, I got lucky with you huh? A snug lil cunt like this deserves to be up filled up with my cum.”

You still couldn’t believe it, thee Simon Ghost Riley, was with you in this old barn fucking your brains out like you were fucking Eve in that damn garden, on top of a pile of hay. Both of you letting out moans and groans like animals that you’re sure anyone who stepped foot on property would be able to hear. It’s hot, and sweat is forming on both of your foreheads, your skin is sticky. Simon’s big balls hitting your ass every punch of his tip into you G Spot. both of your eyes hazy, stupid off the other getting off.

“Feel so gooood M-Mr. Riley! So much!” You keen, reach for the bandana hiding his face. He always pushes your hand away but then he remembers what you’re about to be— his lover, his wife— the mother of hic children.

“Mamma’s gotta know the face of ‘er children’s daddy right? pull it off.” And you do, tugging it. And god, maybe this whole ordeal got you lucky.

So damn pretty. A scar on his nose, another one at the end of his pink lips, blonde strands swaying everytime he ruts into you, “Mr. Riley’s sooo pretty,” you slur, talking to him like it’s some secret. You’re lucid in his cock, eyes squeezing shut in pleasure while you stomach coils up.

“Uh-uh, eyes on me city broad, look at me!” He squeezes your cheeks together, planting a fat kiss on your smooshed lips. He snaps his hips forward, and your head would’ve hit the wall from how good you feel. But Simons still got your pretty face in his hands.

“Gonna have ya allll bare foot ‘nd pregnant, waddlin yer cute ass ‘round here with a ring on that finger.” He’s telling you, as if this is already happened and he’s seein it with his own eyes. All you can do is moan at his words. You can’t even form a sentence at this point. Just nodding your ditzy little head while he gives you his dick.

“Gonna be a pretty fuckin mamma too, fu- shit baby, your pretty tits all full with milk for our kin— damn, you love the sound ‘f that dontcha? You can deny it all ya wont, but she’s achin for it.”

God, you are. She is too. You didn’t even know how greedy your pussy was being as he pistoned in and out of you, “Gonna— gonna cum, fuck I’m gonna-“

“-Yeah, thaaat’s it lucky, come all over your husbands cock.”

All you can utter is a ‘s-shit’ when your orgasm smacks you, your toes curling in your converses, thighs shaking in Simons hold.

The blonde gets you in a headlock, smooshing you down into the floor further, brushing your curls with hay out of your gorgeous face. rutting into you as your walls clamp onto him, begging for his all milk he’s able to give you.

Simon growls, and the strings of cum fill your womb. Your clammy bodies are still stuck together as he rocks the last bit of cum into. Mumbling while kissing your neck, “take it lucky it’s all yours. Gotta keep you nice ‘nd full if you’re gonna get pregnant.”

It’s quiet finally. The barn itself is old and creaks but you can hear the chickens right down the steps clucking, the cicadas chirping, the breeze passing through the trees. The only think you hear are his and your pants,

Simon scoops you up in his arms, adjusting your dress to cover the mess he’s created thats dripping down on that barn floor with every steps he takes.

“Mr. Riley, where are we- where are we going?” You hiccup, gripping onto his shirt. All you can look at is him, a little in shock, a little blissed out. The only thing your able to focus on is the handsome man holding you against his chest. The way his heart pounds louder as he looks down at you.

“To the house. It just won’t take after one go.”

a/n: a draft that’s sitting since last month. Luv you bubs. Can’t wait to write more country!simon

most recent masterlist

[celestialprincesse]

Ex bf!Simon🖤✬

You're still close. Both mature adults, and you know him better than anyone - he can't lose you, can't stand the thought of letting go of the one person who understands him better than anyone.

When he comes back from deployment and you practically beg him to come to this new club in town with you, he almost says no, really really wants to say no, but when you look at him with saucer wide eyes and a little pleading squeeze to his hand, he agrees to pick you up at nine. Tells you to wear something pretty. He knows you always look pretty, really, but he can't help but miss being able to show you off.

When he picks you up on his black YZF R1, sees you standing there on the sidewalk, he has to adjust his seat on the bike with how embarrassingly hard he gets at just the sight of you all dressed up for him.

"I thought you'd bring the truck." You whine as he hands you his 'spare' helmet that he actually just bought with you in mind. Simon gives you an affectionate little pat on the thigh when you slide on the bike behind him, unable to stop your dress from rucking practically to your hips, the thin lace of your panties inadvertently brushing against his lower back, the worn leather of his belt inconveniently pressing into your clit and you try to think of anything but how wet it's making you. "Traffic's bad tonight, can get there faster on this." He explains, muffled by his helmet.

He keeps a hand on your thigh the whole way there, just like he did when you were together, claimed that it reassured him you were still there, still safe.

Walking into the club is an assault on your senses, and you involuntarily curl into his side as he guides you to the bar, a hand snaking around your waist to settle protectively on your hip, thumb caressing the slightly raised line of your underwear without realising how much it riles you up.

Simon easily manoeuvres you over to the bar, one hand on you at all times, keeping you with him, keeping you safe. He calls his drink order to the bartender over the heavy thump of the music before giving your side a little pinch to pull your attention back to him' "Did you say something?" You hum as you're pulled from your daze. "What d'ya want to drink, baby?" The sound of the music obscures the old pet name that comes out in moments like this where the line in the sand between you is blurred by loud music and the comfort of his hands on your body. "Moscow Mule."

He keeps you tightly to his side as much as possible, occasionally grabbing you by the pressure point in the back of your neck when you get distracted and wander off.

Simon lets you have your fun - until some sleazy bloke who looks like trouble has his hands on your hips, grinding your ass into his pelvis with a smug grin, thinking he's got you hooked. "Hands off, mate." Simon grunts into his ear, a hand snaking around your front, settling on your navel as he pulls your back to his front, and when you turn to look indignantly up at him, he leans his head down to speak directly in your ear. "He was minging, baby." And goes on to soothe you like a petulant child when you go to complain about being able to make decisions for yourself. "Didn't see 'im lookin' at you the way I did, yeah? Just trying to protect my girl."

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻♱༉‧₊˚.

meant for this to be a drabble but I'm alr thinking about NSFW pt2. Feeling slutty!!!

💕🎀

[emeraldserenade]

hiii i have a request!

bob floyd x reader who is also in the dagger squad, and the team goes to the beach to hang out and play volleyball and bob gets flustered seeing reader in a swimsuit

<3

Beach Bikini ~ Robert "Bob" Floyd

synopsis: All it took was once day at the beach in a bikini, but Robert Floyd was all yours

tw: fem!reader, reader's call sign is Star, reader wears a bikini, Bob throws reader over his shoulder (that man is strong and people can fight me over that), suggestive, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

Hi!! I love this idea so much!! This is my first Bob Floyd request!! This is also somehow my shortest Bob Floyd fic???

➽──────────────❥

Staying in San Diego has it's perks, the constant friends were probably the best part. Yet, you guys never ended up at the beach since the first time with Pete. You were never one to suggest to go, but you had just gotten a new two piece and wanted to wear it. Plus, you'd get really nice tan lines. So you did the only thing you could think of to get everyone to the beach. "Hangman, get everyone to agree to go to the beach, and I'll wear a bikini," you told him after cornering him in a random hallway. He was literally against a wall with you standing so close the toes of your boots were meeting for a little kiss.

"Seriously?" He gave you a once over. You knew ever since he saw you in the tennis skirt and tank top you wore once to bowling, he wanted to see more. You also knew he knew that unless your endless crush on Robert Floyd just suddenly disappeared, he had no chance.

"Mhm, but everyone has to go," you told him, spinning on your heel to leave. You knew you would get to wear your new swimsuit and you couldn't wait.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You found yourself in your coverup walking down the sand to the group you called your friends. They had taken up residence by the volleyball net and you saw that the guys were already in a game. "Hey, Phoenix!" You called over, still a good couple feet away.

"Hey, Star!" Natasha called back.

You had a pretty smile painted on your face and Bob swore his heart stopped. Sure, he had seen you smile before but there was something different about this one. Maybe it's because you were being lit by the sun or maybe it was because Bob's infatuation with you was getting too hard to ignore. But the flowy sundress you wore to cover the swimsuit you were probably wearing and the sunglasses you had perched on the bridge of your nose, made Bob have less than gentlemanly thoughts.

"Yo! Bob! Pay attention!" Mickey yelled, breaking Bob from his thoughts.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You hadn't taken the sundress off since you were too busy watching the boys play volleyball, but soon you and Natasha were being added to the game. "Hold on a minute!" You yelled over, pulling your sundress off.

"Well, shit, y/n!" Jake loudly announced as you dropped the dress. You smiled to yourself, Jake had never called you by your given name.

"What? You like it?" You questioned as you walked over, the dark green bikini covered just enough to be tasteful but showed enough to be suggestive.

"Me liking it is an understatement," Jake told you as you walked past him for the other side of the net.

"Then don't get distracted," you shrugged. "Actually, do get distracted. I want to win."

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

The game went by smoothly, you didn't catch Bob staring at you but you did catch Jake. You would laugh every time he missed the ball when you would purposefully place yourself in his eyesight. "I'm going to the water, have fun!" You called to the others as you left the game.

"I'll come with you," Bob said from the other side of the net, making the teams even again. You two walked down the beach together, your hands lightly brushing against each others. "You, uh, look nice," Bob said and you smiled over at him.

"Thanks, so do you," you returned the compliment, trying not to look at him.

"Seems like Jake likes you back too," Bob said it so casually it made your head spin.

"What? Jake? No!" You feebly argued, the heat and the stare from Bob making your brain slow down a bit. "I don't like Jake, I like you!" You slapped your hands over your mouth.

"You, you like me?"

"I thought it was obvious," you mumbled, toeing the sand. "I just assumed you knew and didn't say anything because you didn't like me back," you admitted, scared now that you didn't think you knew his feelings.

"What? No, I do like you," Bob argued back and you stared at him with wide eyes.

"So, do you like my swimsuit? I bought it specifically to show off to you," you admitted lowly, giving him a slow spin. You weren't even in the water yet, your skin still sun warmed. Bob just watched you with heavy lidded and lust filled eyes hidden behind his frames, there was a slow nod from him before he reached out and threw you over his shoulder. "Robert Floyd!" Your shout called the attention of everyone else. They watched as Bob walked with you over his shoulder, swooped down to grab your things, before leaving the beach with you.

"Get it, girl!" Natasha yelled at you as you placed your hand on Bob's lower back to push your head up to stop the rush of blood to it. Your nails slightly dug into his back and you heard him groan at it. You dug your nails even a little bit harder with a smirk on your face.

"You're going to pay for that," Bob threw you off his shoulder to pull you into a bruising kiss, the hoots and hollers of your friends fading into the background as he gripped your hips tight.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests If you want to be added to the tag list, follow the directions on my masterlist

[ds-angel1]

dealer!rafe x brainwashed!reader

cw: drugs like lots and lots, ODing, mention of SMUT(18+), hospital, mention of puking, reader is basically kidnapped lmaoo, handcuffs, incorrect medical talk and drug talk

wc: ~ 1.9k

a/n: first req that I´ve fulfilled!!!! working on all the others rn, I PROMISE!! also, I´m reworking my masterlist cause it ain´t working :3

here’s the intro/drabble to them!

Your heart slammed against your ribs, erratic and desperate, a caged animal gnawing at the bars. The world teetered, flickering in and out of focus as your eyelids fought to stay open, to cling to consciousness, but it was slipping, sand spilling through your trembling fingers. A thick, suffocating warmth coiled around your limbs, seeping into your bones, poisoning you from the inside out. It slithered through your veins like a viper, whispering in your blood, coaxing your body toward surrender.

Move. You had to move.

But your body wasn’t yours anymore. The command never reached your muscles, and they lay useless, dead weight against damp sheets that clung to your fevered skin. A pitiful sound, yours, barely a breath, drifted from your lips as you forced your head to the side. Just a little. Just enough.

The door. Rafe’s door.

The dark frame swam in your vision, shifting and blurring, the chaos beyond it melting into a meaningless smear. The world shrank, closing in, the edges curling like burning paper. Black dots bled into your sight, multiplying, spreading, and devouring. Your chest stuttered, lungs gasping, body writhing in its final, feeble protest.

But it was useless. The fever of overdose wrapped its fingers around your throat. And this time, you lost.

Darkness swallowed you whole.

_

Rafe exhaled sharply, the sound bordering on a growl. The hospital chair groaned as he pushed himself up again. Paced again. The relentless, jittery energy under his skin refused to settle, clawing at his ribs, rattling in his skull. His teeth ached from grinding, his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, nails biting into his palms.

The dull hospital light did you no favors. It cast you in shades of ghostly white and sickly yellow, illuminating every fragile line of your body against the stiff sheets. Your arms were riddled with IVs, tubes feeding you life drop by drop, undoing what he’d done.

He should have been worried. He should have been fucking devastated. Instead, he was livid. Not at you. No, never at you. At himself. Because he had done this.

He had forgotten.

Forgot the way he pressed those pills into your palm that morning, his fingers brushing yours with something almost gentle—before he shoved them past your lips himself. A prelude. A sedative. A quieting. He forgot the way they melted on your tongue, dissolving into something heavy, something thick, something that made your heartbeat drag in your ears like a slow, drowning metronome. How your breath turned to syrup, each inhale a weight you could barely carry. How it made it easier for him. How it made you easier.

He forgot the way his fingers curled around your throat, a slow and lazy pressure, just enough to make your vision blur at the edges while he worked himself between your thighs.

He forgot the way he tilted your chin up later, the rough pad of his thumb dragging over your lip as he held the joint to your mouth. Smoke in. Obedience out. His way of keeping you quiet, pliant, while he murmured something about dinner, something about how you needed to stop fucking whining. How the tendrils of gray curled toward the ceiling while your thoughts were shot clean through, splattered against the walls of your mind before they could form into anything useful.

And he forgot, of course, when he was fixing his cufflinks, adjusting the crisp white collar of his shirt, black suit clinging to him like sin itself. How he lined up neat little rows of coke for you, a final insurance policy against your clarity, against your ability to recognize the shape of his absence.

He hadn’t thought much about it.

Not until your body was convulsing in his passenger seat, bile dripping from your chin, your breath coming in shallow, failing gasps. Not until the doctor stood before him now, murmuring things like irregular heartbeat, overdose risk, weeks without substances.

No drugs. Five to six weeks. Maybe forever. He almost laughed. Did they think that was enough time for you to grow a spine? To find your way out?

No. You wouldn’t leave. You couldn’t leave.

His jaw twitched, his fingers flexing. The thought of you outside his walls, beyond his control, out of his grasp, no, no, that wouldn’t do. That wouldn’t do at all.

He had carved you out of nothing, molded you into something beautiful, something his. And you would stay with him. Locked away in that vast, hollow mansion. Lost inside the walls he built around you. Forever.

No matter how many bruises, handcuffs, or locks it took.

_

You woke up slowly as if being dragged out of the depths of something thick and suffocating. Consciousness seeped in like a slow, unwelcome tide, bringing with it the dull, throbbing ache in your skull, the rawness of your throat, the stiffness of your limbs. Your tongue felt like sandpaper against the roof of your mouth, and the air was stale, thick with something unidentifiable, something oppressive.

The first thing you saw was the ceiling, a high, vaulted expanse of white. It was unfamiliar, but the scent in the air, the underlying trace of expensive cologne and something darker, something purely him, told you where you were before you even turned your head.

Rafe’s house.

Panic unfurled in your gut like a coiled serpent finally roused. Your pulse stammered, adrenaline cutting through the remnants of whatever fog still clung to your mind. You tried to move, to sit up, but resistance met your wrists, cold, unyielding metal.

Handcuffs.

The realization came slow, sluggish under the weight of exhaustion and withdrawal. Your fingers curled into fists, nails biting into your palms.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.”

His voice. Silky smooth, laced with amusement, the kind that slithered under your skin and made you feel small. You turned your head, muscles protesting the movement, and there he was. Sitting in the chair beside the bed, legs sprawled, fingers tapping idly against his knee. His blue eyes locked onto yours with quiet intensity, with possession.

“Rafe,” your voice cracked, barely more than a whisper.

His lips twitched, something like satisfaction flickering across his face before vanishing just as quickly. “You had a rough night.”

Your stomach twisted. Flashes of memory stabbed through the haze, your body convulsing, the taste of bile, the cold, sterile lights of the hospital. The tubes, the machines, the doctors murmuring over you. Overdose.

You swallowed, throat burning. “Let me go.”

He let out a short, almost incredulous laugh, shaking his head. “Not happening, sweetheart.”

You pulled against the cuffs, metal biting into your skin. “Rafe, please—”

His eyes darkened, his jaw ticking. “You almost fucking died.”

The words were sharp, slicing through the thick air like a blade. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his gaze pinning you in place. “You think I’m gonna let that happen again?”

Your breath hitched. “It’s my life.”

His hand shot out, fingers curling around your jaw in a bruising grip. “No,” he murmured, voice low, lethal. “It’s mine.”

A shiver raked through you, whether from fear or withdrawal, you weren’t sure. The air between you crackled, heavy with something unspoken, something twisted.

He exhaled slowly, loosening his grip but not pulling away. His thumb brushed over your cheek, almost tender. Almost. “This is for your good,” he said softly. “No drugs. No leaving. Just you and me.”

Your stomach churned. The implications sank in like weights dragging you under.

No escape. No control. No freedom. His world. His rules. Forever.

_

The first few days were hell.

Your body rebelled against itself, convulsing in fits of tremors so violent they rattled the headboard, muscles twisting in agonizing spasms. Sweat soaked the sheets beneath you, drenching your skin, your clothes, and your hair. Fever burned through you in waves, relentless, scorching, leaving you shivering in its wake. Your stomach clenched in protest, empty but still heaving, the dry retches leaving your throat raw and useless. Every inch of you ached, skin too tight, bones brittle, your blood screaming for something, anything, to quiet the chaos.

Rafe was always there.

Perched in that chair, watching. Sometimes silent, sometimes murmuring things you couldn't understand past the static in your brain. Occasionally, he'd press a damp cloth to your forehead, his touch ghosting over your fevered skin, deceptively gentle. Other times, when the withdrawal had its claws in you deep enough to have you sobbing, begging, he'd grip your chin, force you to look at him, and simply say, "No."

No drugs. No relief. No escape.

By the end of the first week, the worst of the sickness had passed, but the craving, the gnawing, insatiable hunger for something to take the edge off, remained. Rafe was prepared for that, of course.

The handcuffs stayed. When he had to leave the room, he'd bind your wrists to the bed frame, ensuring that even if you wanted to claw your way out, you couldn't. When he was there, he left one hand free, just enough movement to allow you to eat, to drink, to touch him when he demanded it. Just enough to remind you that your freedom was in his hands.

"You're getting better," he'd say, running fingers through your hair, his tone almost soothing. "You’ll thank me for this someday."

_

Week two brought exhaustion, a bone-deep fatigue that left you hollowed out. The worst of the shaking had faded, but your limbs still felt like lead, your head thick with cotton. Time became a meaningless blur of waking and sleeping, fading in and out of coherence. The world outside might as well have ceased to exist, there was only this room, this bed, Rafe’s presence looming, omnipresent.

By the third week, your body had begun to function again, but your mind was sluggish, slow to piece together reality. Rafe made sure of that. The meals he brought, the water he pressed to your lips, they were laced with just enough to keep you hazy, and compliant, but never enough to make you crumble like you did again.

No drugs for 6 weeks, bullshit.

"You don’t need that shit anymore," he murmured one night, his lips brushing your temple as you lay curled beneath the covers, weak and pliant. "I'm all you need."

Somewhere between weeks four and five, the desperation set in. The fight in you flickered, weak but present. You started resisting. Pulling against the cuffs until your wrists bled, refusing to eat, spitting venom in every word you could manage. Rafe met each defiance with patience, a maddening, knowing smile like he was waiting for you to burn yourself out.

And then, he started rewarding your obedience.

A free hand. A warm bath. A walk through the house, always with his hand gripping your arm, always with a reminder murmured against your ear: "You behave, you get more. You fight me, you lose."

By week six, you had lost track of time. Your mind, your body, they weren’t your own anymore. Your voice barely belonged to you, your words carefully chosen to avoid punishment, your movements dictated by his expectations. The cuffs remained, but now, they were more of a suggestion than a necessity.

Because Rafe had won.

And when he looked at you, running a thumb over the bruises on your wrists, his lips curved into something satisfied, something triumphant as he shoved two little pills into your open mouth.

"See? I told you, sweetheart. You were always meant to be mine."

[yanderedrabbles]

Hi, I love your drabbles. May I ask how would the yanderes react if the reader tries to escape or leave them?

'Til Death Do Us Part - yandere boys when you try and leave them

Yandere! Soldier is high strung and suspicious of everything. It just comes with the job. He isn't cruel, and he doesn't like hurting you, but if you make a run for it he won't hold back. Calloused hand crushing your windpipe as he drags you back, he'll remind you that nowhere in this godforsaken city is safer than with him. If he has to keep your hands tied for a few days, he will. Even if the ropes rub your skin raw. If your promise to behave, maybe he'll kiss it better.

Yandere! Cowboy is careful to always keep an eye on you. He ain't a fool - he knows that he frightens you. He knows you deserve a better man than him. But he's too selfish to let you go. He'll grab you jaw and glare at you with those coyote eyes. Whiskey and cigarettes on his breath as he pulls you up onto your tip toes and let's his lips just hover over yours. "Come hell or judgement, you ain't ever leavin' me. You got that sugar?"

Yandere! Boyfriend does not take it well when you tell him you want to take a break, that you need some space. He looks you dead in the eye and simply says, "No." He's the type to stand in front of the door and demand a detailed list of reasons you want to break up. And if he doesn't agree with them- and he never does - he simply will not accept things are over. If you insist on it and nothing he says can sway you, then you'll find out just how cozy he's made the basement.

Yandere! Cop's stalker persona is the exact thing he'll use to get you back into his arms. He knows the way you think, he knows the addresses of all your friends and family, he can track your bank purchases and card swipes. And on top of that, people are more than willing to talk to a cop about a poor, missing girl. And when he catches you, he'll make sure you're so terrified of your stalker that you'll never leave him, ever again.

Yandere! Gangster is helpless to stop you if you want to go anywhere without him. You're his boss afterall, and you'll put a bullet in his head the second he steps out of line. That doesn't stop him from begging to come with you. He's practically on his knees for you and looking every bit the kicked puppy. "Fine," you sigh, running your hands through his hair and letting your nails scrape against his neck, "But only if you promise to behave."

Yandere! Incubus feels his composure slipping the second you ask the abbot to let you leave for another abbey. He'll grab your arm and struggle to hide his claws, trying to reason with you. You're needed here, he'll remind you, and if the Holy Spirit guided you to this place, who are you to go against it? At night, he'll slip into your bed and trace his claws across your belly. He'll nip at your ear with his sharp, sharp teeth and hiss, "Whetever you go, I will always follow."

Yandere! Desert Bandit is the son of the dunes and sand. He knows every oasis, every well, every hidden mountain path. Even if you could make it out of his arms and past his men, the desert itself will lead him to you. He'll laugh when he finds you and boast to his men that his woman is smarter than them all, to have made it this far on her own. But when night comes, you'll find his grip tighter than ever before.

Yandere! Apocalypse Survivor knows you'll never leave him. The infected are terrifying and the other survivors are even worse. Still, he always keeps a close eye on you when you visit trading settlements - just because you won't leave, it doesn't mean someone else won't try and steal you for themselves.

[ddejavvu]

hi!! i’ve been so obsessed w ur rooster drabbles and i just witnessed the cutest proposal - could u write something on rooster realizing he wants to spend the rest of his life w r!!!

It catches Bradley off guard because he'd have expected it to happen in person. Maybe when you mix your laundry in with his, or when you'd held his hand under the table at dinner with his friends. Some life-changing, earth-shattering moment, something that injected a rush of clarity through his veins that screamed, 'I want to grow old with you.'

It happens over text, and Bradley cradles his phone in his lap to read the message that's come in from you:

Y/N: This made me think of you

The attached is a photo of a chicken.

A brown hen, nothing even remotely similar to his namesake, no bright colors or comb above its eyes. You've sent him an honest-to-god chicken, and on top of that, it's a blurry photo, surely taken in motion.

Bradley has the urge to laugh, but he doesn't want to alert any of his nosy coworkers to the fact that you're chatting with him.

Bradley: That's a hen honey

Y/N: So? They're the same thing.

Bradley: They are not the same thing? Hens are girls

Y/N: Okay fine then that's me I'm the girl hen

Bradley: ALL hens are girls

Y/N: Do you think she has a rooster boyfriend like I do

Bradley: Definitely.

Y/N: I wonder if hers has a mustache or if that's a Bradshaw exclusive??

Bradley: We'll find out when we have kids, I guess

It only hits him after he sends the message. Not before, not when the thought had entered his mind, not when he'd typed it out. No, only when he watches it glide across the screen and immortalize itself in a blue speech bubble does he realize he's mentioned your future kids.

Your future kids.

Not a hypothetical, 'what-if' scenario of having a child, no, the secure assumption, a statement of fact that you'll be raising children together. And after that is sending them off to college, and after that is becoming grandparents, and after that is greying and weakening side by side.

He's going to have kids with you, and all that comes afterwards.

With the realization comes the idea that maybe you won't want that. That Bradley's just crossed a line that'll make you shy away from the waves lapping at your feet, seeking shelter in the dry, hot sand. But he's been to the water's edge with you, and you drag him in to let the waves lap at your ankles.

Y/N: if the boys have your mustache, what will the girls have of mine?

Boys, girls, and everything that comes with it shaves such a heavy portion of nerves off of Bradley's shoulders that he's surprised he's not ten pounds lighter. His next message is thoughtless like his last- not without care, no, but instinctual, something from the heart. Perfectly Bradley, a soft heart with a sharp tongue.

Bradley: Probably those gorgeous eyes of yours. Although, that might not be a good thing if you thought that hen was a rooster

[pa1nrema1ns]

𝐕𝐚𝐞 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐬 || 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐰𝐨𝐨 (𝟏𝟖+ 𝐎𝐧𝐞-𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭)

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫! 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐰𝐨𝐨 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

"𝐈 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝, 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝, 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝." – 𝐒𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐦 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮𝐦 (𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐎𝐚𝐭𝐡)

⚔︎⛊ A/N: This piece began as a drabble but soon became more of a self-contained story. Although I wrote with the intention of creating a one-shot, I may expand upon the gladiator AU and include more hunters in future works if there's enough interest (I'm looking at you Baek Yoonho, Thomas Andre, and Liu Zhigang).

⚔︎⛊ Word count: 5.6k

⚔︎⛊ Content warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, concubine!reader, ancient Rome au, reader has a dark past (implied non-con), rescue romance, switch!Jinwoo, p in v, gratuitous praise, intimate healing (heavy focus on consent, words of affirmation, and the reader reclaiming her bodily pleasure and autonomy), abrupt ending/sequel hook.

⚔︎⛊ Dividers by: @fairytopea and @uzmacchiato

Impoverished and on the brink of starvation, Gladiator! Jinwoo willingly throws himself into the fire, volunteering his fate to the arena.

𓆩✧𓆪 Dressed in rags, hair matted to his forehead, and with nary a coin to his name, he stumbles through the streets of Rome. He is a scrap of a man, ill-suited for the rage of battle and the insurmountable odds that await him. Despite this, he is uncompromising in his decision. If there is even the slightest chance of securing a better future for his family, then he will gladly place his life on the line as many times as it takes.

𓆩✧𓆪 Jinwoo would go so far as to sacrifice his soul and his humanity for strength. No matter how high the cost may grow, he must become stronger for the sake of his mother and Jinah. He made a promise to his dying father that he would protect them, and he intended to keep his word.

𓆩✧𓆪 His desperation drives him to enter a divine covenant with a cunning magus known only as the Architect. Cloaked in mystery and with unknown origins, the sorcerer drives a deadly bargain. The binding agreement? Become a worthy vessel for the god of death, Ashborn, and he shall be blessed with overwhelming power and limitless potential. Refuse, and his life is forfeit. Desperate and with everything to lose, he does not hesitate to accept.

𓆩✧𓆪 Jinwoo rebuilds himself from the ground up. His days are filled with endless clashes against man and beast, his life an ever-present struggle for survival. Any moment may be his last, and yet, he perseveres. He flourishes in the bloodshed, weathers the pain, and as time passes, he acquires the skill and physicality of a formidable combatant. Gone are his boyish features, replaced by the sharp edges and pensive countenance of a man. Once frail and waiflike, his frame is now packed with heavily corded muscles. He cuts a fierce figure on the sands of the Colosseum.

𓆩✧𓆪 Jinwoo fights with all the fury of the gods. Concealed in a mask of anonymity with twin daggers in hand, he leaps into the fray, sparing his opponents no quarter. Anything goes on the battlefield. Yesterday, these men were his brothers in arms. Today, they are his enemies.

𓆩✧𓆪 Steel slams against steel in rapid succession, the vicious strikes reverberating loudly across the arena. A torrent of slashes rains down from Jinwoo's blades, each attack calculated and precise. He unleashes a terrifying display of efficiency, tearing his opposition asunder, dealing blow after devastating blow until none remain standing.

𓆩✧𓆪 Spectators are momentarily stunned into silence, awestruck by what they have witnessed. This pregnant pause is soon broken by a single round of applause, then another. Within seconds, the rest of the audience erupts in cheers, their excitement reaching a fever pitch at the unveiling of a new champion.

𓆩✧𓆪 Hours later, Jinwoo slips into the arena morgue under the veil of night. His newfound abilities as Ashborn's vessel have made him well-versed in the afterlife, and he can discern the chittering cries and lamentations of the dead. He hears their calls for revenge, liberation, and glory. All the fervent dreams they failed to achieve in life.

He takes a moment to honor his slain comrades, bowing his head as a sign of respect. After paying his dues, he parts his lips and issues a single command.

"Arise."

𓆩✧𓆪 Jinwoo’s feats of valor have become known far and wide. Dreaded by his fellow warriors and revered by the Roman populace, he is exalted. But the spoils of victory and hollow accolades mean little to him; as long as there is food on the table back home and his mother and younger sister are safe, then that is more than enough for him.

This changes when he encounters a reward far too tempting to resist.

Jinwoo's throat bobs when he first sees you.

You stand in near nakedness next to the overseer of the games, clad only in a sheer gown. The fine silk does nothing to preserve your modesty—it just accentuates your shapely thighs, round breasts, and the gentle curve of your hips. You're beautiful, he thinks, like a rose coming into bloom—delicate, soft, and oh-so-sweet.

He bets you taste delicious too, like nectar and ambrosia.

When you take your place up front on the podium for all to see, it finally dawns on him that the prize for emerging victorious this time isn't freedom, fame, or fortune—it's you.

For once, Jinwoo yearns for something beyond absolute power or dominance. He longs for the tenderness of a woman. Hardship and loneliness are all he's ever known throughout his young life, and now more than ever, he wants someone who can soothe his weary heart.

Shortly before the start of the gladiatorial games, an orator announces that the emperor has provided one of his finest concubines as a gesture of goodwill. Whosoever procures the most kills during today's bouts will be allowed to keep you as their whore. Excited and scandalized chatter breaks out amongst the crowd at this unexpected turn of events.

Over the commotion, your gaze meets his, and Jinwoo is instantly drawn into your eyes; they appear to tell a story, one drenched in sorrow and tears of blood. The anguish that mars your lovely face is palpable, and he feels a sudden surge of anger coursing through his veins.

A thing of beauty such as yourself would not have been spared from the cruelty of men, especially those in positions of power… You must have suffered greatly at the hands of the emperor. And now, that bastard was offering you up as a pleasure girl to a horde of violent fighters. You were a veritable rabbit in a den of wolves, exposed and completely defenseless!

His expression darkens, and he grips one of his daggers with such ferocity that its hilt shatters. He decides right then and there that he must have you.

Jinwoo refuses to idly stand by and watch as you're dealt a fate worse than death. He's noticed the way these brutes leer at you and overheard their crude remarks and lewd intentions. It infuriates him, and he vows to slaughter every last one of the competition. He'll dirty himself with crimson and gore, if need be; anything to claim you for himself.

Armed combat and melee commence posthaste, and immediately, Jinwoo sets about wreaking carnage. He slits throats, severs heads from bodies, and crushes organs, all with the cold indifference of a man scraping shit off his boots.

The usually bloodthirsty spectators gasp; even the overseer is rendered aghast by his savagery. You’re also left in a state of wide-eyed disbelief at the massacre, not quite grasping what you saw.

A single thought runs through your mind.

Could this really be the same man from earlier who gazed at me with such kind eyes?

Daylight bleeds into dusk, and at last, the dust settles. Jinwoo stands as the sole remaining contender in a sea of corpses.

He breathes deeply and exhales, and with that simple act, he seems to discard all sense of brutality. The man proceeds to nonchalantly twirl his daggers, flicking blood off the blades before sheathing them. Then, without missing a beat, he launches himself onto the podium, landing almost directly in front of you.

In an unprecedented event, an eerie quiet descends upon the Colosseum. There’s no raucous laughter, jeers, shouts, or the sound of hands clapping—only a collective feeling of apprehension.

The officials seated nearby are frozen in fear by his presence. They can merely gape in trepidation as he approaches. You inhale sharply, only to break into a sudden fit of coughing. The air around you has become saturated with dense magical energy, making it nigh impossible to breathe.

Panic-stricken, you begin to shiver. When his footfalls inevitably grow louder, you shut your lids and curl into yourself, preparing for the worst. However, what greets you is the sensation of a warm and calloused palm cupping your cheek. Your breath hitches, and you open your eyes in shock. You haven’t been touched this gently since being separated from your family. It was soothing and heart-achingly familiar.

You cast a glance at Jinwoo, and at this proximity, you can observe the subtle confidence in his cobalt blue eyes, the evenness of his features, and his long lashes. He’s startlingly handsome and younger than you expected. Your hackles lower ever so slightly.

Sensing your lingering unease, the man sends you a small, reassuring smile and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Then he speaks to you, his voice deep and melodic.

“Easy, love. I’m not going to hurt you—I’ve only come to claim my prize.” He then lowers his tone and leans forward until you can feel his breath tickling your neck. “You’ll be safe with me, I promise,” he whispers solemnly before adding, “I’ll take nothing from you that you aren’t willing to give. Your body and your heart belong to you and no one else. Remember that for me, sweet girl.”

You’re unsure how to react; the sincerity behind the man’s words contrasts drastically with his monstrous violence in the arena. It was jarring, but you found yourself desperately wanting to believe him.

Jinwoo soon steers his focus to the game’s overseer, and his docile demeanor quickly dissipates. He’s remarkably terse when addressing the feeble patrician, “I take it His Imperial Majesty is a man of his word, is he not? Then, according to the rules in place, this woman is henceforth bound to me. Unless you have any objections, that is?”

Your heart races wildly as you cling to Jinwoo’s every word. The emotions you’re experiencing right now are a mix of anticipation, amazement, and fascination. Never has a man gone so far to possess you. You were complete strangers, yet here he was, threatening the upper echelons of Roman society on your behalf. It was... oddly endearing.

“No—no! Not at all.” The overseer appeared as if he would faint at any moment. “It is just as you say, champion. To the victor go the spoils! You are free to do with her as you wish.”

“Hmph, then I’ll hold you to that.”

Jinwoo turns on his heel without wasting another breath, and a hint of a smirk tugs at his lips. He returns to your side and wraps his obsidian cape around your shoulders.

The raven-haired man chuckles at the puzzled expression you make—Gods, you were so damn cute. How could the emperor relinquish such a precious jewel? The old fool must have lost his mind to discard you so callously. Well, no matter—you were in better hands now.

“You must be cold in that flimsy dress of yours, little songbird,” he teases while coiling a robust arm around your waist. “I can feel you trembling underneath my fingertips… What say we head to the baths before retiring for the night in my quarters? A good soak and some companionship should warm you right up.”

You don’t miss the seductive glint in his eyes or the way his voice deepens as he purrs his sultry proposition. You blush and glance down at your hands, suddenly bashful despite yourself. How did this man manage to make you feel so shy with his flirtations? It was disarming and incredibly alluring, a sharp contrast to the unwelcome advances you had become so accustomed to while living at the palace.

“I—I… would very much like that,” you stutter nervously, still too embarrassed to look him in the eye. Fuck, you had a pretty voice too, like the soft chiming of a bell.

He imagines how divine you'll sound while screaming his name.

Jinwoo dispels any further reservations you might have by dipping his face into the crook of your neck. He mouths against the sensitive flesh, trailing feather-light kisses. The sensation of his lips brushing a specific spot behind your ear elicits a breathy moan from you, and you arch your back in surrender.

The gladiator smirks against your skin before slipping out his tongue and dragging it across your earlobe. He husks, “I can make it worth your while, sweet girl, but only if you agree. Say the word, and I’ll worship every inch of you with my mouth—” he emphasizes by nipping at your ear, “my hands—” he palms at one of your breasts, slowly rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, “and—” he presses his clothed cock along the swell of your ass and sneaks his hand down to cup your cunt, biting back a groan when he feels how soaked you are beneath the fabric.

A searing heat pools in your lower abdomen, and your eyes flutter shut at his ministrations. In the background, the audience is brought alive again, hollering and catcalling at you both, but the noise does nothing to stop the pressure mounting in your core; it only causes a fresh layer of slick to trickle down your thighs.

After what seems like an eternity, you finally regain some sense of clarity and beg, “Please, don’t stop! I want this; I want you! Please—”

Jinwoo gently turns your face and silences your ramblings with his lips. The kiss is initially tender and fleeting, a simple caress of his mouth against yours. However, he’s quick to pry open your lips with a smooth swipe of his tongue. He then slips inside your mouth, coaxing you to slide your tongue over his. You readily submit, grabbing the nape of his neck and deepening the kiss. The weaving of your lips soon devolves into something languid, sensual, and primal.

At the last moment, Jinwoo manages to reel in his lust and reluctantly parts from you. The gladiator's restraint hangs by a single, precarious thread, and he wants nothing more than to ravish you, but not here. Not in front of all these prying eyes.

Before you can fully register what’s happening, he grasps you firmly to his chest and rasps in your ear, “I'd say it's high time we take this somewhere more comfortable, huh, love? Hold onto me tightly; this will be a rather hasty escape."

'A hasty escape?' What could he possibly mean by—!?

"Exchange."

Darkness. The void that absorbs you is filled with nothing but darkness. Person, place, and time have no permanence in this pocket of space that exists somewhere between reality and the ether. Then, just as quickly as this inexplicable situation begins, it ends. You are present again, whole and in the flesh, as is Jinwoo. The packed Colosseum, however, is nowhere to be seen. Instead, your surroundings have been replaced by the entrance to a sprawling complex.

Upon second glance, you notice it is a bathhouse, and an opulent one at that, if its elegantly manicured gardens, marble structure, and decorative stucco are any indication.

Did he use his mana to transport us here? But how? Only an experienced mage could possess such skills. Just what manner of man is this?

You worry your lip between your teeth as you mull over your concerns, but before you can become too entranced, an abrupt squeeze at your waist breaks you from your train of thought. It was the gladiator, and he was grinning at you broadly.

“These are the imperial baths reserved strictly for victors. I hope it is to your liking…? Are you alright? You’re so pale.” He brushes his hand over your cheek and questions you in an affectionate tenor.

“Tell me, are you afraid? Were my words not enough to quell your fears, little dove?” His smile shifts into a thin line as he intently studies your face. Ashamedly, you nod your head and avoid his gaze.

“I see… Then what can I do to prove myself to you?”

The muscular arms that embrace you loosen enough for you to take a few tentative steps backward, away from him. You regard the gladiator with a twinge of suspicion, an action you could hardly be blamed for; magical prowess of this caliber could rival the elite mages of the praetorian guard. This man was undoubtedly dangerous, but he'd been nothing but amicable towards you.

Conflicted, you take a deep, steady breath before addressing him, this time by name, “Sung Jinwoo, who exactly are you?”

You raise your head as you speak to him, and there’s a gleam in his eyes: ravenous, predatory hunger.

He was trying to intimidate you, to cease your meddling. To entice you into compliance.

Yet you continue, unabated, “You slaughter others as easily as one draws breath, then you effortlessly demonstrate a type of magic that would take the most learned magi years to master.”

You walk back toward him, slowly and purposefully, stopping only when you both stand face-to-face.

“Do the gods favor you above all else, or are you born from divinity? Are you…are you human?”

A pang of guilt twists at Jinwoo’s conscience. He always knew that he would have to reveal his identity at some point, but not under these circumstances.

He sighs and provides you with a half-truth as an answer. He knows it won’t suffice, but at the very least, it might assuage some of your worries.

“I am human, but only just. That is the best explanation I can give for the time being. Please, do not ask or demand any further from me. Those are my only rules for you, love.” He leads his fingers down your spine as he implores you.

Your expression softens, and you splay your hands on his bare chest, above his beating heart. The rich texture of his skin, his earthy musk, and the pulse of vitality beneath your palms are all indicative of humanity.

In little more than a murmur, you speak to him, “Jinwoo, you command me not to be frightened, yet part of me is, and I resent myself for it. But how can I be at peace while alone with a man who wields power beyond all understanding? You could effortlessly break me if you so desire, yet you'd have me believe otherwise?"

You suddenly burst into a fit of tinkling, derisive laughter, making the gladiator swallow thickly. Even in scorn, you sounded beautiful. If only you were laughing for a different reason —a joyous one.

"Do not mistake me for some naïve, tenderhearted maiden, Jinwoo." You continue in a subdued tone, "I’ve witnessed evil and corruption by men much weaker than you. I know better than to let my guard down completely.”

Nonetheless, your touches become bolder and more sinful. Your hands drift lower, smoothing over the rippling planes of his torso; he exhales shakily through his nose, and you can’t help but admire the delicious flex of his muscles as he does so. You decide to see how far you can push him, tracing the veins along his V-line with your fingertips while sucking at his neck and collarbones.

He lets out a strangled noise when you bite down hard enough to break the skin. “And wh-what about the other part of you, hmm?” He manages to grit through his teeth, “For someone who claims to be so scared and jaded, you sure are handsy—oh shit!”

Rather than responding to his jest, you unlatch his belt with deft fingers and slip your hand into his loincloth. Just from the feel of him, his cock was painfully hard and leaking. Your mouth waters at the thought, driving you to free him from the confines of his undergarments. Jinwoo releases a hiss as his dick springs up and slaps against his toned stomach.

You drink in the sight of him, admiring how pretty and thick his flushed cock is. The shaft emerged from a soft thatch of curls, and it was a dark shade of pink that tapered into vibrant red at the tip. Creamy pearls of precum dribbled endlessly at his slit. Intrigued, you skim your fingers around the sensitive glans, coating them in his essence. Then, without breaking eye contact with him, you raise your hand to your mouth and lap up the salty fluid.

The gladiator groans appreciatively, and the sound shoots straight to your throbbing cunt. You press your thighs together to alleviate the ache, an action that does not go unnoticed by the perceptive, raven-haired man.

“Feisty little minx, aren’t you?” He croons sweetly, “And here I was, foolishly thinking you were so shy. No, no, wait—don’t pull away from me! I crave more of you! I need more of you! Unveil to me the smoldering temptress hiding within you, and I swear to tell the truth of my origins. I swear it.”

Jinwoo’s feverishness sends a thrum of pleasure throughout your body. It incites a dormant fire, a desire to take the reins. The roles between the two of you have been reversed; now, he is the one pleading for your touch, whilst you were in control. No longer were you a caged bird or a helpless little girl. You were a minx, a playful and vivacious woman, full of life.

At least, that's how you feel in the moment.

You smile and press a pacifying kiss to the gladiator’s lips, gliding your tongue in his mouth to savor his vulnerability. He moans and melts into you when you begin stroking his cock in tandem, alternating between fast, twisting motions near his head and long, languid pumps from base to tip. You breathe him in, sighing wistfully.

“We’ve only met, gladiator, yet you pine for me so fiercely… but why? I’ve done nothing to earn your devotion or reverence. I am not your goddess, your Domina, or even your lover; I am merely an outlet for sexual release.”

You’re interrupted mid-sentence by an arresting grip on your wrist. In an instant, Jinwoo had dispelled his lustful haze, swiftly reminding you that he was a deadly warrior, a far cry from the ham-fisted nobles who sought you only for their sexual gratification.   Your body draws taut, like a viper preparing to strike, and you ready yourself for what’s to come, awaiting punishment for acting out of line—

But you're greeted by kindness and comforting reassurance from Jinwoo instead.

“Enough, darling; say not another word of this nonsense. I will not tolerate any blemish on your character. You are not an object, a tool, or a treasure to hoard. You are as human as anyone else, and you are worthy of being cherished.”  

You falter under his intensity, unprepared for such an impassioned response. Sex has… always been mechanical for you, a perfunctory duty expected of a concubine. You lost the right to personhood the day the emperor vanquished your homeland. Spared solely for your beauty, you were stripped of all autonomy, reduced to being the unwilling bedmate of the very man who tore your life apart. The emperor stole your innocence, your family, your hope—everything.

You were sullied, made unclean, and defiled.

A calloused thumb swipes away tears you aren’t even aware you’re spilling.

“Shhh,” Jinwoo hushes you as he strokes your cheeks. “Oh, love, please don’t cry. These tears are not the type of wetness you deserve.”

You sniffle softly and try to avert your gaze, but he maintains a steady hold on your face. The gladiator locks eyes with you, piercing cobalt seamlessly transforming into an icy blue. There’s anger in Jinwoo’s expression; instinctively, you know it isn’t directed toward you.

“Did Antares feed you such lies about yourself?” He spits out the emperor’s true name, pure venom lacing his voice.

Your silence is answer enough.

The gladiator’s lip curls, and he internally fumes, That fucking bastard! How dare he torment you like this? I’ll kill him—I’ll kill him if it’s the last thing I do!

“Jin…woo?”

His rage recedes when you call out to him, his eyes regaining their original color.

Jinwoo exhales sharply and composes himself; he’ll have his vengeance in due time. Currently, you are what matters most to him.

“The emperor’s hold on your heart runs deeper than I thought,” he surmises. “I’ll have to cleanse you of his influence. Only then can you be free of him.”

You stare at him inquisitively, not quite understanding what he meant. Before you can ponder it for too long, you’re hoisted into a sudden princess carry by Jinwoo.

“It’s okay, sweet girl, I’ve got you, and I’m not going anywhere,” he coos, rubbing soothing circles at the bend of your knee. It grounds you, makes you feel safe.

“We can’t undo the past or deny that which has already happened. We can only move forward, forging a path of our own. So come, let us wash away your troubles together. I promised you warmth and companionship, and I am a man of my word.”

Jinwoo peers down at you expectantly.

You nod and nuzzle your face into his chest, basking in his body heat.

The corners of his mouth lift.

“Right, let’s get ourselves cleaned up then.”

“Ahhn—ah! There! Right there, Jin—augh!”

Your needy whimpering dissolves into a loud, wanton keen that bounces off the marbled walls of the bathhouse. Around you, scattered pieces of armor, leather, and the shredded remains of your garments lay strewn in a haphazard pile, a testament to the gladiator’s brute strength and utter lack of self-control when it came to you.

Plumes of steam waft from the heated water, turning the air dense with condensation. It has a dizzying effect, further intensifying the delirium brought on by yet another mind-shattering orgasm. You babble incoherently—a slurred mixture of Jinwoo’s name and pleas for more—as you come for the fourth time that evening. Despite this, you can feel the gladiator’s cock swelling inside you, virile and throbbing with need.

Gods, he was insatiable.

You adore this side of him.

It had been roughly an hour since you set foot in the large facility, and throughout this time, Jinwoo couldn’t keep his hands or lips off you. He’d all but mounted you the second you began to disrobe, pushing you up against the nearest pillar and impatiently tearing at the fabric concealing your body. He was a man starved, eager to devour, relentless in his pursuit of sustenance.

And his tenacity had at last borne fruit.  

“Oh, fuck!” He raggedly breathed at your bare and unencumbered form, eyes blown out and wild. You were perfect like this—incomparable in all manners.

“Beautiful—you’re so damned beautiful… Venus has not half your loveliness, nor a cunt nearly as sweet.”

The gladiator then drops both his hands by your hips and pulls you flush against his twitching cock. He maneuvers your body like a puppet, parting your pussy lips with his shaft and guiding you to glide your heat over the outline of his member.

A tremor runs down your spine when your clit grazes a particularly thick vein on his cock. You grind down on him, desperate to satiate the scalding need throbbing in your pussy.

“Jinwoo, please—mmph!”

He steals your voice by slotting his mouth against yours, earning a moan from you. Without pausing, he shoves a hand between the apex of your thighs, seeking out your slit. His dexterous digits are quick to roam over your glistening folds. He slides his index and middle fingers along the hood of your clit and toys with the sensitive bundle of nerves, lightly swirling at it before applying more pressure and friction. This earns a long, drawn-out moan from you, and you buck your hips into his hand, seeking further stimulation.

Just before you can lose yourself to him fully, Jinwoo pulls back from your lips, choosing that exact moment to delve both fingers into your tight, wet pussy. You choke and whine at the feeling of fullness, drawing a dark growl from the gladiator.

“Good girl, keep making those pretty sounds for me. Hell, you can scream if you want to. We have this entire place to ourselves; we can be as loud as we fucking want!”

He punctuates this with a rough curl of his fingers along the roof of your walls, effortlessly pinpointing your sweet spot. The effect it has on you is cataclysmic. Bliss, raw and in its most potent form, courses through your veins. A spring coiled tightly within you finally snaps, careening you over the edge of madness. You unleash a wail that unfurls into a high-pitched scream as Jinwoo ruthlessly fucks you through your climax with his fingers; the stimulation verges on being unbearable, blurring the line between pleasure and pain.

A sheen of sweat coats your writhing figure as you frantically scrabble for purchase, one hand scratching fruitlessly at the cold, polished surface of the wall as the other rakes its nails over the broad swath of the gladiator’s back. He relishes the sting, urging you to sink deeper by hiking one of your legs around his lithe waist.

Through the blood pounding in your ears, you hear his husky voice faintly in the background.

“That’s it! Come undone for me, love. Keep clenching around my fingers, moan my name—yes! Just like that! Gods, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. Take whatever you need from me, sweetheart; I’m yours.”

He rewards you for your obedience with hot, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulders, the column of your throat, and the soft slopes of your breasts. The gladiator sucks harshly at the smooth expanse of skin, leaving splotches of purple in his wake.

As you descend from the exquisite ecstasy of your high, Jinwoo slowly pulls his hand from your sopping pussy, gossamer strands of slick clinging to his fingertips like honey. He brings his fingers to his mouth and laps at them, deliberately replicating your actions from earlier. A lascivious moan escapes him; your flavor is intoxicating, all-consuming.

He wants to drown in your arousal.

You startle when Jinwoo hoists your other leg around his waist, hooking his elbows under your knees to support your weight. He then prods his engorged tip along your entrance, smearing himself with your juices. You instinctively begin to buck your hips, and a small, involuntary whimper passes your lips. Although you were still sensitive in the aftermath of your climax, the absence of the gladiator’s fingers had you aching to be filled again.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” Jinwoo murmurs, “I’m going to give you exactly what you need.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than he began easing his cock into you, panting and grunting in your ear with his jaw clenched tight. The stretch burns, but only momentarily, and it isn’t long before you’re mewling and moaning his name. Once he bottoms out, Jinwoo drops his head to your shoulder and presses his hips against yours. He holds himself still, allowing you time to adjust to his size.

After a pause, the gladiator kisses your shoulder and pulls back his head, looking you straight in the eyes.

“I won’t be holding anything back from here on, darling. If it reaches a point where it becomes too much for you, I want you to say the word ‘dagger,’ and I’ll end this. Understood?”

You nod and press your forehead to his, casting the die.

With your assent, Jinwoo ruts into you with unmatched vigor. He fucks just as he fights, hard and unrelenting, as if his very life hangs in the balance. Yet even in his brutality, he worships you with each drag of cock along your fluttering walls. Your tits bounce under the force of his thrusts, enticing Jinwoo to take one of your nipples in his mouth. He suckles at the tender little nub until it stiffens into a peak before biting down on it, sending sparks of pleasure tingling throughout your entire body.

Your breath catches in your throat, and your legs tense up around the gladiator’s waist, drawing him deeper into you. The ridges of his cock shape you, creating a delectable friction that builds and builds with every push and pull of his length. Jinwoo’s grip on your ass turns bruising, the rhythmic movement of his hips faltering into staccato bursts as he reaches his zenith. An obscene groan sounds at the back of his throat when your cunt spasms and squeezes impossibly tight around him, careening the gladiator over the edge.

He completely immerses himself in your pussy, painting your walls with thick spurts of cum. You follow in his stead, wailing loudly as your own orgasm overtakes you. For several minutes, the room is enveloped in silence save for the catching of breath and the wet sounds of kissing. Once he feels your walls relax around him, Jinwoo slides out of you. You wince as his seed spills down your inner thighs, and you struggle to stand on your own two feet as you’re lowered to the ground.

Ever the gentleman, the gladiator holds you steady, one large palm lingering on the bruises that litter your lower back while the other sinks its fingers into the globe of your ass. He chuckles when you bat at his arm half-heartedly.

“Are you alright? I wasn’t too rough on you, was I?”

You shake your head tiredly, a fond smile gracing your lips. Unbelievable, this man.

“Jinwoo, you were incredible.”

His eyes widen in a rare show of vulnerability.

“I’ve never felt this way before,” you continue, “You’ve been so good to me, so attentive… I loved it.”

Jinwoo pecks your forehead. He was so proud of you, his strong, brave girl.

“Good, because I’m nowhere near finished with you, love. Now, be a good girl and spread those pretty legs for me so I can devour that dripping little cunt.”

⋆༺𓆩⚔️𓆪༻⋆ Tag list: @heyimkana @xxeclipze @princeizuku @kweenkatsuki-main @cocomanga @mydearestbeloved @minh907 @forbidden-sunlight @brillantradiance @crxscnt @katie5000

[notsodelirious]

just a short drabble before bed — literally nothing but fluff

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

He never expected to know peace, not until he met you.

He knew who he was, a man, an acrobat, a hopeless romantic, a performer. Other people knew who he was, a man, a hero, a brother, a safety line. He was all and none, too much to be contained to a single lake, more like a rushing rapid.

He was still the same person, he would always be the same person, but constantly changing, he would never truly be still.

And he knew that. He knew who he was—he was a man who knew what he wanted.

Desperate for love, he was good—he was good at giving, at attending, he was present and attentive and kind and considerate and he knew how to be a partner. And he whole-heartedly loved every person he had ever been with.

They had been his stone, his anchor—they had been strong, self-sufficient, immovable objects—he loved their tenacity, their strength, their power.

It was simply unavoidable they would eventually collided.

It was nobody’s fault. They were all beautiful people, but there was nothing he could do about his currents.

He’d accepted it, made peace with it.

Even when he met you, fell for your smiles and giggled snorts, he knew, he didn’t hope.

He resigned himself to selfishly enjoy the time you’d have together and hopefully remain amicable when it all came crashing down in a couple of months.

But it never did.

You’d come to know exactly who he was, a man, a lover, a traumatised boy, somebody who was simply trying.

And you stayed.

Now, he laid in your bed, content, in love. His hand splayed across your back as you laid against him, skin against skin; you were naked, you were gorgeous, and he had enjoyed ravishing you just moments prior, but resting in this moment between time, he was home.

He opened his mouth when you tapped his lip, humming happily as the grape crunched under his teeth, bleeding sweetly across his tongue as he watched you pick another fruit from the bowl and take a slow bite of it.

“Oh, this is apple,” he looked at your face more properly as you spoke with your mouth full. You looked back up at him, chewed apple slice in your cheek. “I’m allergic.”

He never bolted upright so fast, bringing you with him.

“Spit,” he held his hand out and you complied, falling into soft peels of laughter. “Are you okay? Do you need an Epi?” he asked, rubbing your back with his clean hand, more preoccupied by your health than the chewed fruit in his palm.

You assured him you were fine, you would just get a little itchy and he sighed before finding a tissue to wipe his hand on.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he chuckled, although a little breathless.

“Sorry,” you weren’t. You were smiling far too wide and he couldn’t be blamed for staring, enamoured by the simple sight of you.

You stayed.

You stayed, became his peace and his heart, the dirt and sand and rocks to his white rapids, unchanging but accommodating.

And the source of a couple of grey hairs around allergens.

He kissed you softly, like a sculpture held their art, too afraid to blemish what they was an imperishable, perfect marble.

“I love you.” A confession, a promise, a request.

You smiled as you brushed your nose along his.

“I love you too.”

(“Are we done kissing? I’m going to eat all the apples now.”

“I want one-“

“I will smother you.”)

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

not my usual style but I like it, anyways, requests closed at this date but here’s the master list

[vartouhix]

"i'm not staring, i'm admiring."

affectionate and affirming prompts

Her lips pursed into a little 'o' as she breathed out, staring straight forward at her reflection in the mirror, trying not to focus on the beads of sweat clinging to the back of her neck and her temples. She ignored the burn in her thighs and lowered into another squat for the twentieth time in this set. When Satoru spoke, it was so sudden that she lost concentration on counting the seconds. She lifted back up into a regular standing position, one hip cocking and her hand planting itself on top. "No one was accusing you of staring." Her arms crossed tightly under her bust, head tilting as she regarded him. "Sounds like a guilty conscience to me. Don't tell me you're one of those guys in the gym that stares until a girl feels self-conscious?"

[maria-chwan]

Beach nap indulgence (Sanji feat. Fem!Reader drabble)

Contains: Fem! Reader, this can be read as undefined relationship or romantic relationship whichever you like the most, cuddles, fluff

You have collapsed on the sand.

Your body feels warm and heavy.

Giant clouds wander over the sky. The sun hides behind them and the world around you becomes less bright. The sand looks gray bathed in dim light. You blink slowly, your head against your arm.

Somewhere in the distance you hear shouts of delight. Luffy and others having fun on the beach.

You blink again. Slowly.

The ocean is making waves. You can hear them hit the shore softly.

You stay still and lay there in the sand, becoming calmer and calmer. Your mind is starting to feel fuzzy.

Then you hear the sound of footsteps and you are not alone. It's not alarming, you just see the one and only Sanji. His profile as he walks into your line of sight with the sky in the background. You see his face from below and from this angle you see a lot of sky. Sky and Sanji's calm profile.

You blink again slowly, smiling absentmindedly in your sleepy state. Everything is just so nice and calm.

Sanji doesn't disturb the athmosphere upon his entrance. Your mind is starting to get fuzzy again and you take a look at him through your your half-closed and sleepily wandering eyes.

You see that he is looking at you. You expected this, but it's still wonderful. His attitude towards ladies made you feel lucky to have him on your side, taking care of your confidence every day. You return to gazing at the beach, getting sleepier.

You sink deeper in the soft feeling. You adjust your body and let out series of little grunts. After settling you close your eyes and breath in satisfaction, embracing the feeling.

Sanji says something about how relaxed you look. His voice is gentle. You answer with a soft and vague mumble.

Sanji asks something along the lines of 'can I join you'. The request is done so straightforwardly and you are in such a relaxed state that you make a soft "mm-hmm" sound. You haven't cuddled before with your crewmates, but you have imagined that it would be the most wonderful thing ever, so it's easy to say yes.

You open your eyes half way to see him get on his hands and knees next to you. He lowers himself even further and you see Sanji settle next to you, laying on his side, keeping his arm angled up to support his head.

It's gentle and easy. You can sense that Sanji is not a threat to you. He is laying next to you and you are very sleepy. You wonder vaguely what is going to happen.

You realize that you can feel his breath on your skin. It surprises you a little.

You focus on his breath. It makes you feel... You just... You really like it.

Sanji touches your cheek. You accept it, you welcome it, you feel it. It's soft and nice.

Sanji touches your cheek so gently, then the corner of your eye. He strokes your eyebrow. His touch radiates gentle power. He is trying to not scare you.

This evolves into you laying on your back and him laying on his stomach next to you, his cheek pressed against his arm. His hand strokes your arm. Then it rests on your neck. Then it settles on your hair.

Soft and comforting, you feel Sanji's fingers touch you and it feels nice. You are glad you let him do this. You breathe quietly, sinking deeper the feeling of being heavy and still. Almost asleep.

[priestessame]

DRABBLE! SYLUS WITH BRAT READER THAT WANTS TO TEASE HIM.

. "how did I forget kittens are predators?" .

warnings: gun play? edging. ' Minors DNI

The task feels herculean at first. Sylus doesn't get jealous and its impossible to physically force him to bend. Always a pace quicker and a phrase wittier to let you get under his nerves.

But there's one line he will absolutely never cross.

Because no matter how many bottles of wine down or how insatiably desire roars in his ears, Sylus always stops when you tell him to.

It's downright wicked how you play with this boundary of his. Even in moments when he seems too far gone to hear you, in times that calling it madness would be more appropriate, when you two are surrounded by a heat so all consuming that you can taste it in your breath, all it takes is the gentlest finger on his lips and the beast shudders to a halt.

Sylus waits for an action to follow your gesture but the moment just stills longer. The sound he makes first is a grumble of confusion, turning into a scoff of disbelief as he realises what you're doing. You're joking, He thinks,

"sweetie?" he says, trying to pick at the loose ends of your mischief. But you had drawn the line in sand, as obviously as you could, already shuffling to your side of the bed. You were done, reclusing him to his side of the bed or challenging him to do something about it.

It doesn't take long for him to crack under this charade. Fairly impressed at you finding this loophole and mostly frustrated at your behaviour.

He really tries to grapple back that control, making you suck off his revolver as 'punishment'. But immediately grows hard at how shamelessly you drag your tongue along the barrel. Ends of your mouth tugging in a smirk as you refuse to break eye contact, letting him know that you intent to do exactly that and so much more to him.

It was enthralling just how much control you had on him. How easily that surrender comes to him. He could have you kneeling between his legs and still it would take less than a bated breath to make the head of Onychinus buckle.

Really, who's the real fiend here?

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

I'm thinking of Merman!Gaz smut tonight, so... have a little drabble:

Breeding? || Merman!Gaz (for Mermay 2024)

cw: smut (cunnilingus), dubcon elements (reader is willing).

Merman!Gaz who's actually part sea horse so he has a dorsal fin, ears that are fin-shaped, and no caudal fin, but a straight, thin and curled tail instead.

Merman!Gaz who loves people watching and has learned plenty about humans... and even does it enough to have picked up on some Englsh.

Merman!Gaz who sees you at the beach, not one of those fine sand and great for sunbathing ones, but one that's mostly rocky gravel and a jagged coastal line.

Merman!Gaz who approaches the rocks you're sitting on and peaks his head over them to catch your eye, happy that the beach is mostly devoid of people due to how gloomy and cloudy the sky is.

Merman!Gaz who startles you and smiles when he notices you jumping, but then your eyes shine like the stars and you look at him with such curiosity as you carefully approach with a "Hi...?".

Merman!Gaz who's, unfortunately, more curious about the parts of your body hidden under your shorts than you as a human, and whose human-like hands start pawing at your thighs, webbed fingers massaging your exposed skin.

Merman!Gaz who wraps his muscular arms around your hip and drags you as close as he can get you to the edge of the rocks, your toes dangling over the water, and legs being sprinkled by the crashing waves.

Merman!Gaz who presses his face against your clothed cunt, burying his nose against the gusset of your denim shorts, taking a deep sniff of you thanks to his powerful nose, that sends excitement coursing through his body, and heat rising up to his face.

Merman!Gaz who realizes how beautiful you look with your eyes wide and your whole body stiffened in surprise... but notes how your hands don't push to fight him off.

Merman!Gaz who tries to rip your clothes off you, not knowing what "Careful!" means when you say it, which makes him look at you with knitted brows and the biggest, softest brown eyes, only for you to relent and help him.

Merman!Gaz who, as soon as he sets eyes on your exposed cunt, feels his heart racing in his chest and immediately buries his face back where it belongs.

Merman!Gaz who licks stripes up your cunt, savouring the taste and the warmth of your core, the wetness so different to the salty ocean, and revels on how your moans sound even more lovely than some of the mating songs he hears from whales and other mammals.

Merman!Gaz whose fins start brightening in color, turning bright orange rather than its muted shade of terracotta, and whose tail wraps around one of your feet, as he sucks on your clit and hears you mewl and moan.

Merman!Gaz who smiles when he feels a rush of liquid rush against his plump lips and down his chin, watching how you go limp and sigh fondly, having peaked against his mouth... and clicks his tongue and smacks his lips, pleased with himself.

Merman!Gaz who continues at it over and over, his tongue diving into your winking hole, and feels your heels dig into the expanse of his back as his arms keep holding his torso above the water so he can remain buried in your cunt.

Merman!Gaz who after you're overstimulated, uses his strong arms to pull himself up onto the rocks atop you and whose lips crash onto yours in a deep, languid kiss, like he's seen so many humans share, noticing your eyes rolling and the fucked out look on your face.

Merman!Gaz who vanishes under the water while you're struggling to catch your breath, catching the way as you jump up, startled, when you noticed he's gone, seemingly distraught that he'd just leave like that.

Merman!Gaz who, weeks later, is lowkey confused as to why his brood pouch didn't swell and he's not releasing any babies, he's pretty sure you two mated?

Part 2:

[banananutsmuthie]

When you just want a chill vacation but she's casually making you horny all the time

Who knew you would end up regretting renting (a now discontinued) DOYEON bot. It's great for keeping you company for sure but not so much when you're horny.

DOYEON bot is forbidden to engage in any sexual activities with you.

Should have got the YURI bot... Would have probably got some good H.E.A.D- Holiday Entertainment And Destressing

Maybe should have splurged to get the ISA model too

What if it's the real Doyeon and you're just completely oblivious?

Sitges

Word Count: 300 words

On a cloudless day on a quiet, white sandy beach just outside Barcelona, it's Doyeon and it's you. And it's a hot one—like seven inches from the midday sun. It isn't necessarily a nudist beach, but that doesn't stop either of you from having a little hot fun.

"Babe," she says in a whispery whimper, eyes shut not from the blistering sun bearing down on her, but rather in the bliss of your cock barreling into her.

"Almost," you tell her. Your sweat drips down her sun-kissed back, racing past the uneven tan lines and sliding across the sweat-resistant sunscreen. One hand is on her hip, while the other is reaching under her top, fiddling with her sandy nipple. Each thrust slaps against her like waves crashing into the beach.

"Go on," she goads you. Doyeon digs her toes into the sand, spreading her legs just ever so slightly, lifting that ass just enough to let you deeper inside her. Doyeon knows just how to end you. Her eyes open to a squint and she lets three words leave her lips:

"Fill me up."

And it happens all at once, building up suddenly like high tide, filling her up until her pussy is drowning in your cum. As you pull out, it drips out of her, collecting into a hot, messy pool of cum on the sand beneath her. You give her a good slap, leaving a mark on her exposed, sunburnt ass for a fleeting second before it fades into an annoyed red.

"You're so naughty," you tell her. Doyeon, on the other hand, is unfazed, like it's just another Monday for her. She puts on her oversized Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses and goes back to sunbathing, cum-covered cunt and all.

Author's Note: Just some drabble. Not doing back to doing this full time. (Also, in response to your ask- Doyeon can't be a bot; it's canon that Fantagio doesn't license her likeness out to Idol Club)

[midniqhtt]

rick grimes

masterlist • the walking dead • 03/27/25

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs

𑣲 gossip I @lilgoblinbitch

rick overhears you and some alexandrian women gossiping, and he decides to confront you.

𑣲 drabble I @murdrdocs

𑣲 what was supposed to be our last night I @specialagentlokitty

𑣲 request I @dollfacefantasy

𑣲 when you love him part 2 I @itsgrimeytime

𑣲 when he clarifies things I @/itsgrimeytime

𑣲 when your his rock I @/itsgrimeytime

𑣲 feelin' flirty I @/itsgrimeytime

Being a long-lost friend of Maggie's, you wind up at the prison, a line of dead walkers behind you. You are promptly confronted with one Rick Grimes, and it's suddenly your life's goal to flirt with him as much as you can. Rick doesn't usually respond, but what if one day he does?

𑣲 i know i got him I @/itsgrimeytime

Ever since you showed up, you've had an effect on Rick. At least, that's what everyone said. Initially, you hadn't recognized it. But after one too many coincidences, it's starting to become a little impossible to ignore.

𑣲 the life we could've had I @/itsgrimeytime

Rick knows you're gone, he does. He just keeps seeing you in everything -the distant smell of coffee in the morning, or the sand beneath his toes (when he finds himself on a beach.) And as he tried to scrub what pain he felt out of his head, he wondered just when he could see you again.

𑣲 the nurse I @/itsgrimeytime

Before all this, you were a nurse. A nurse who had patients, one of which was a man in a coma. A sheriff, you think, it was all kinda fuzzy now. When it all went sideways, you set up what you could for the man - but had to leave. You'd always wondered where he'd ended up; until in your search of shelter, you run into a familiar face.

𑣲 little one had other plans I @cultofdixon

Timing is never perfect when it comes to babies coming into the world. Rick just wished the group wasn’t…homeless when his baby decided to make an entrance

𑣲 time I @myanmy

You just got to Alexandria and are settling in, however Rick seems to have forgotten he has a girlfriend.

𑣲 three days too long I @inthe-dark-tonight

you wake up to a surprise after rick comes back from a three day long supply run

𑣲 rest I @weretheones

Some days, it felt like the weight of the world rested on Rick’s shoulders. The night after the farm fell was no exception.

𑣲 untied I @/weretheones

After months of friendship, Rick’s suddenly started avoiding you. You decide enough is enough and confront him.

𑣲 mean!rick I @gxtitobxby

𑣲 request I @grimesgirll

𑣲 request I @movidita

𑣲 dreamy I @paradisedixon

you’re tired of having to ask everyone for supplies after shane forbid you from going on runs for no reason, so you ask the next best man for permission.

𑣲 sweetheart I @virginsexgod69

𑣲 out of reach I @happy74827

Finding the right moment is a hard thing to do. Especially when it involves the man who's in charge.

𑣲 consequences I @catt-leya

You want to be close to Rick. Closer than just cuddling.

𑣲 bloodletting I @collecting-stories

reader gets shot in season two instead of carl

𑣲 where is she? I @thatfanficstuff

𑣲 sticky note I @ficnation

[palettepainter]

To Love and Be Loved

@muletia merformers content grabbed my artblock by the throat and launched it into space. This AU is driving me crazy

I've never been the type to be consistent with AU's when making them just cuz I'm really bad at posting frequently for them, or I loose interest in continuing them, so I've only ever been invested in a few AU's online. Merformers?? I don't know WHAT it is about this concept, but it scratches an itch in my brain, so I wrote a drabble based off a scenario muletia's answered on their blog!

I'm still fairly new to character x reader content soooo please be nice,,,I actually had a lot of fun writing this, might write more! Sorry for any spelling/grammar errors

The AU belongs to muletia. I tried not to go into too much detail concerning readers appearance, but for backstory sake I made them a fisherman

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sunlight burns behind your eyelids, even when you stubbornly clamp them tighter with a whine. You would have thrown your arm over your face to block it entirely, if everything didn’t feel like it weighed triple what it was, and if everything didn’t ache

A curious, painful numbness weighed heavily in every limb, as if your very bones themselves had turned to cement blocks. You whine again, attempting with what little reserve of energy you possessed to move

You didn’t move much, and you know you probably didn’t look very graceful doing so, but with effort, you roll onto your side

The familiar, yet undeniably unwelcome sensation of sand sticking to the skin of your cheek pulls yet another discomforted whine from you, but the very thought of trying to manoeuvre yourself so you can wipe it off - and the following realisation of how much energy it would take to do so - you abide to lay there and sulk in your uncomfortable misery instead 

And then a crab walked sideways into your line of vision, about an inch away from your nose

A pity really, that you were stranded upon this island alone, scientists around the world would have been amazed at the speed in which you all but catapult yourself away with

That same startled movement however, causes you to instantly double over with a hiss and clutch desperately at your leg when an unexpected, angry flare of pain shoots up your limb. You suppress the urge to yelp, sucking air through your clenched teeth, it’s only after a few seconds that your eyes start to mist up pathetically, and you have to blink in a futile attempt to restore your vision 

‘What the hell?!-’

You don’t care to glance up to see if the crab has retreated, or rub your face into your shoulder to brush off the sand that you can feel is still stubbornly glueing itself to your skin, everything else was distant, unimportant: the concern for why you were in such unexpected, such worrying pain, greatly outweighed anything else 

Thanks to your clumsy flurry to get away from the crab you are at least partially sitting, so you have an easy view of your left leg from where the pain was originating from

At a glance, you are doused in immediate relief when you see your leg clearly isn’t broken. To confirm the theory, you give the limb an experimental roll and bend the knee. It was sore, but not totally painful. You practically deflate like a balloon, hand covering your heart, a broken leg would be just your luck 

You can also see no visible sign of blood, which is promising

You’re no medical experiment by any means, but getting an open wound on a island you still have no idea how to truly navigate or live off of and contracting something, or having it become infected, is really not something you want to worry about

Still, if there is no sign of blood and there is no apparent bone sticking out at an awkward angle, then maybe you pulled something?? 

Leaving the unexplained pain only to have it come back and bite you later for not trying to soothe it is out of the question, so you reach down to peel back your absolutely sodden trousers

They’re as soaked as they are uncomfortable, exposing your cold skin to the merciless open air that has goosebumps prickling your skin in nanoseconds. Despite the clothing on the rest of your body, you feel the wind's icy hand invade up the back of your shirt and scratch at your spine, the hairs on your neck standing on end

You force yourself to ignore it, hiking your trouser further upward until it rests above your knee

There, you see your problem 

Sickly yellow swirls around the lip of your boot and up your calf, it’s as unpleasant to look at as it feels

Removing your boot only further reveals the extent of the damage: the bruise is heaviest at your ankle, the flesh swollen and sore, specks of dingy purple dotting the area above the bone which is almost completely swallowed by the swelling 

That...wasn’t good

Bracing yourself for the worst, for what you already know is going to be the case, you cradle your ankle and press oh so gently onto the tender skin. Each poke, even feather light, causes little shocks of agitation to flare through your muscles and draws a wince from you each time without fail

‘This is…really not good’

“Shit...” you mumble, because there was no other word appropriate to describe your situation

Quietly, you can silently concede that the situation could have been more dire, you would have been royally screwed if you had a broken leg. Heavy bruising was at least managable, annoying yes, but manageable

You’d survive at least, that was comforting, you really didn’t want swollen ankle and heavy bruising to be the cause of death carved on your tombstone 

All things considered, you conclude you got very, very lucky (that or some kind of deity must have been feeling particularly merciful), of all the injuries you could have sustained, not to mention literally drowning, surviving an ocean storm with a sore leg was a blessing-

Eyes snapping open, alert and awake, everything comes rushing back to you at an overwhelming pace: the storm, the rain and wind, the pathway along the coastline, the loose rock, losing your balance, falling, water - water everywhere - all around you, in your eyes, in your mouth, suffocating you

You were going to drown, you were certain that was it

You remember being pulled under, wave after wave throttling you, hurling your small, frail body under its currents, kicking and flailing. Disorientation had scrambled your brain, and the pressure constricted your ribcage, a burning sensation climbing higher in your throat and behind your eyes 

Light fading, the surface getting further and further away, you were sure you were drowning- you had been drowning! You were going to die, and yet…you’re here

Still reeling, you turn your head unhurriedly to survey your surroundings. The breeze is light and soft, just barely tussling your raggedy hair, a far cry from the ferocity of the tempest that had been set on devouring the island and its inhabitants hours ago

You were sitting on the outskirts of a lagoon, not one you recognised, you must have been washed up on an unexplored part of the island. If the circumstances which had brought you here had been anything less morbid, you think you would have found the surroundings quite peaceful

The lagoon is calm, a sanctuary held between two platforms of rock that curve around to isolate it from the rest of the sea, the only entrance in and out is a single gap in the rock formation opposite the section of beach you were resting on

Now though, in your delirious, near paralysed from fear state, the unfamiliar environment only feeds your unease

You want nothing more then to rot into the sand, to surrender to the heaviness that weighs on your shoulders and pleads for you to collapse and recharge, but if it’s the surge of adrenaline from realising you narrowly escaped sharing a handshake with the grim reaper not twenty four hours ago, or the pain in your leg the forbids you to forget it’s presence, you refuse 

Inhaling a breath to gather yourself, you swallow past the lump lodged in your throat despite how painful it is to do so, and brace your hands on the sand “Okay- Okay…easy does it. One…two…three!-” not without grunting, you manage to heave yourself onto your feet unsteadily

Okay. You’re standing. That’s good. Good.

After a thorough examination of yourself, and patting around your head to check for any bumps or dried blood, you reprocess again that you got very, very, VERY lucky!

There are no weird bumps on your head and the only thing you do feel that's out of place is the odd bit of reed caught in your hair or sand stuck on your scalp, the worst of the damage is a few new tears in your t-shirt, but none that would render it ruined (not that fashion was even in your priorities)

You sigh, if you ever get off this island you were so buying a lottery ticket

“Alright then…now for the fun part” you say dismally, casting a nervous glance down to your bruised leg

With every bit of caution one would use when stepping on cracked ice, you first take a step forward on your non injured leg. One step forward, simple. Then, you brace to carefully take the next step with your bruised one, easier said than done you think

Tenderly, you lift your foot from the miniature crater the sole of your boot had left in the sand, deciding to only move it forward a few inches before you let your boot rest again on the ground

No agitated pain came to smite you, only the general soreness persisted, which was gradually becoming tolerable now that you were up and had your bearings

‘So far so good..’

Still with care, you begin to unhurriedly shift your weight from your right foot to your left in preparation for your next step-

Pain. Just- Pain. A lot of it.

Your shriek is half muffled by the sand rushing up to greet you, where you barely manage to catch yourself on shaking arms before too much splats into your mouth. You fall, and you fall hard, and in your attempt to jerk and recorrect your balance, you only manage to infuriate your bruised leg further 

For several, uninterrupted beats, you lay there, defeated in a crater of your own making, content to do so until you shrivel up like a raisin in the sun and die.

However, it seems you’re not out of stubborn grit yet, because despite every blaring alarm in your head that begs you to not move because that was way more painful then you thought it would be!- you roll onto your back

You’re crying, both from pain, and the fact that now is simply the time to cry. You don’t bother to wipe the tears away, knowing more will just spill in their place

Every breath wheezes as you greedily inhale, one hand mindlessly rubbing at your leg in some weak attempt to alleviate some of the agony, it’s as successful as you imagined it would be

“Ow..” you whimper, your voice small and weak, like someone had stepped on it

“That…r-really hurt” you speak your thoughts aloud, because it’s better to focus on doing that then the aching sensation that you know now has rendered your leg near useless

You sniffle, attempting to steady your breathing by taking rhythmic inhales and exhales as you had done many times before, it was the only method you had that was somewhat keeping you from losing your goddamn mind

“So, walking is gunna suck..” you state, and you can feel your resolve fracturing as a particularly strong jolt of pain from your leg reinforces the statement “Maybe…I could fashion a walking stick out of a branch??” you continue to speak aloud “Maybe a splint? Finding a branch shouldn’t be too hard”

A pause settles, the only sound that drifts over to you is the sound of waves gently lapping at the edge of the rocks that surround the lagoon 

“Hm…I should get up” you don’t move

“...I shouldn’t be putting pressure on my leg if it’s hurt, but I need to find food and water” you had managed to survive living off the land and sea, though trying to catch fish and deducing what plants looked safe enough to eat was not easy

It’d be much easier if you had your fishing rod, but after more than a week of being washed up on the island without a trace of your boat or gear washing up on shore, you had come to accept the glum fate that your beloved boat and expensive gear were long gone. 

You’d never been overly fond of that boat anyway, you’d gotten it second hand for a price way too high for a vessel that had awkward steering, but if you saw that crooked old boat again you’d kiss

The only gear you had left on hand was your craft knife, which had been your saving grace when sawing through branches to construct your first shelter, gutting fish, starting a fire-....you feverishly patted your pocket

You frowned

You no longer had your knife

“UUUGH!!..”

As you begin to curse the world for your rotten luck, battling the temptation to start crying again because you know crying like a three year old isn’t going to solve your problems, much less aid you, the sound of rippling water is not lost to the sound of your own laboured breathing 

You go to turn your head to investigate the sound- only to startle upward for the second time that day when something begins rising out of the water 

With your busted leg you only managed to pitifully crawl yourself backwards and away from where the water meets the sand by your arms, eyes not once leaving the mass that steadily grows bigger as it comes upwards to the surface

Your nerves are shot, your heart is threatening to erupt from your chest, and you are in no condition to be running away from potential threats 

If the storm didn’t kill you, you’re sure whatever creature is approaching the shallows surely will

You’re going to die alone on this forsaken island and the only acknowledgement of your death will probably be years from now on some unsolved murders podcast 

If the worst is to end you then and there you don’t wish to see it, so, you throw up your arms in a measly shield, hoping that whatever creature has pulled itself up from the depths is feeling generous and puts you out of your misery swiftly 

As the moment stretches on at a painful pace, breathing hard through your nose with your head ducked into your shoulders like a terrified turtle, the sound of sloshing water draws to a sudden stop, and a pitched, single chirp breaks through the silent air 

Still, you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes and lower your arms, sitting stiff as a statue to the point your muscles start aching

You nearly jump out of your skin when a careful pressure nudges against your forearm, slick and cold from the water but warm all the same. It’s barely a sliver of a touch, almost hesitant in its precise delicacy 

Still, you don’t move. You remain locked steadily in place, terrified that if you so much as breathe incorrectly this beast will tear out your jugular 

The pressure leaves your skin, and a….pitiful churr sounds from the creature

Not threatened, not angry, not territorial, just…sad, dispirited 

An expanse of your terror that sits heavily in the centre of your chest breaks away, and further chunks begin to crumble and vanish the longer you sit there unharmed, despite knowing you are well within the range of biting distance

…You cautiously peel away your arms from your face, just enough to cast a clear glance towards your unexpected company

You hoped to gain an observing glance undetected, and yet the moment your arms have moved enough for you to see, you meet a heavy stare from a pair of electric blue eyes that sit well within your bubble of personal space

They instantly widen upon noticing your revealed face, a ghost of anticipation flooding the features of their expression as you ever so slowly continue to remove your arms from your face. The blue eyes twinkle, something elated glinting in them which further settles the anxious coil that felt like it had been constricting your windpipe

The creature sinks, or at least, you’re pretty sure they do, and you’re almost certain something like relief settles on their expression once your arms have fully lowered

The baby blue eyes are familiar, combined with a complexion composed of deep navy and ruby that cuts through your paranoia, a warm wave of relief flooding in to occupy the space it had been hogging in your chest

“Optimus!..” you breath breathlessly, almost dizzy from the drop in your stress levels that his presence brings 

The mer continues to stare at you unblinkingly, yet you’re too joyed at the discovery of the creature being only Optimus, a mer who had founded a curious, unexplained interest in you, that you don’t notice the way he practically glowed at the sound of your voice, physically perking, fins and all 

“God- you scared me for a second! I thought you-” You don’t get to finish your sentence

Strong, solid arms wrap around your middle with such speed you almost topple backwards into the sand again. His forearms alone cover the expanse of your back, his face practically covering the length of your stomach and chest, leaving you unintentionally pinned in an embrace, which on any other occasion, you would have not minded

This time however-

“Owowow-LeglegLEG!! GET OFF MY LEG-”

To his credit, Optimus doesn’t miss a beat at the sound of the evident distress in your voice, promptly tearing himself away from you with a string of worried chirps

He doesn’t whimper or give any acknowledgment to the assault of panicked slaps you had landed to the back of his head in your haste to have him remove himself, and instead his concerned eyes flicker over your body at an alarming speed 

All in all, it takes him about two seconds to process the tight lines of pain that have carved themselves into your face, the tension that hangs on your jawline, your lips which have peeled back over pearl white teeth in an obvious show of great discomfort, which pains him greatly

As you busy yourself trying to calm the roaring sensation of hot fire pain that bristles up your lower leg, Optimus’s eyes follow the line of your arms which clutch desperately at the sides of your limb, a grip which he concludes is no doubt leaving crescent moon dents in your skin

Whatever surge of delight he had felt at seeing you at last awake is instantly snuffed upon the sight of the discolouration bleeding across the skin of your calf

Once you’ve eased your breathing, blinking rapidly in an attempt to clear the tears from your eyes before they fall, do you take note of the mournful slump that has overtaken Optimus’s shoulders

He wilts into the sand, his grand fins that stretch along his back and down the length of his tail that stretches into the water behind him drooping, eyes not once lifting from your injured leg, and he lets out a lone, terribly gloomy churr 

His hand hovers, and without meaning to you tense at the prospect of someone prodding your very much newly formed, sore bruise. As miniscule as the action is, Optimus somehow still catches it, and withdraws his webbed hand from you

It’s both amazing and intriguing to see such raw emotions displayed on his face, knowing that such depictions of emotions had never been shown in illustrations of mermaids or sirens in the many safety handbooks you’d read

But when Optimus looks to you, in a way not too different from a worried companion would, and then back to your leg, do you see the display for what it is

He’s concerned 

With an expression that gradually grows more troubled the longer he flickers his gaze between your face and your leg, your expression shifts to something more gentler: “H-Hey hey, Optimus, I’m fine! It’s just a bruise”

It’s not just a bruise, the miniature version of yourself in your brain corrects, you have most definitely sprained your ankle in some capacity and not only is that going to greatly hinder your mobility, but it’s going to take more then a week to at least be semi healed, it adds

In that moment though, you decide that’s not information that Optimus needs to know, but it seems your mermaid friend does not believe you regardless when he remeets your gaze with clear doubt in his eyes.

He casts another upset look to your leg, and you watch as his fingers dig into the sad in displeasure at the sight, the fins on the side of his head that act as ears pinning downward, only further showing how troubling he finds the situation 

“Really, I’m okay!” you insist with a bat of your hand, the mermaid does not shift his focus from your leg, looking to be in deep thought if the way his brows have started to mildly scrunch together is any indication 

You’re not sure what to focus your attention on more: his clear worry for your well being, or the way he quietly contemplates something you can’t pinpoint 

Still, even with his worry, your legs are starting to grow uncomfortably numb from the cold sand beneath you, and you need to either get back to your current shelter or find some way of crafting a new one without the help of your knife. Perhaps you’d get lucky and find somewhere sheltered further inland, but you weren’t going to get any progress done sitting 

So, against what every medical professional would tell you, you stagger to your feet. 

Lightning quick, Optimus watches your movements with the sharpness of a hawk, though you feel no terror under his observant stare. You’ve known the mer for the majority of your time stranded, and have come to learn that despite what you have read, he hasn’t shown even a flicker of aggression towards you once 

At first, it unnerved you, thinking that he was trying to lull you into lowering your guard. You’d read that mermaids were scarily intelligent. But that hadn’t happened, and the fear you’d felt towards his presence had gradually faded with time 

Standing to your full height, you hope it isn’t obvious how little pressure you’re putting on your hurt leg “See? Totally fine!~” to emphasis, you flash him the biggest reassuring smile you can muster 

It’s not very effective

Optimus remains half out of the water, his upper half resting in the sand propped up by his arms until he ‘stands’ at eye level with you. His tail twitches in the water behind him, casting ripples across it’s otherwise crystal clear surface while his mouth sets into an uncertain frown 

He produces a chirp, head slightly cocked, then a few more

The language barrier does make communicating a bit difficult, but you’re fairly certain based on his expression and general feel for the sounds he just made that he doesn’t hold a lot of hope in spite of your words 

You know very well that in order to demolish whatever doubts he has for good, you’re going to have to walk, the thought alone makes you nervous, let alone the idea of acting upon it. Still, with Optimus not looking anywhere close to dropping his concern, you didn’t have much of a choice…

“Welp!” you awkwardly stuff your hands into the pockets of your trousers because you’re not sure what else to do with them “It was uh…nice to see you!” you say with a nod. In your mind there is no way your laid back, casual act comes across as convincing, yet you press on

You half turn away, and Optimus’s eyes still bore attentive holes into your form “I’ll see you later I guess..” you bid farewell, throwing in a small wave over your shoulder as you take your first step forward on your good food, and then follow with your left with more caution

Now knowing what to expect you actually manage to take a step forward without falling, albeit a wobbly one which makes you bite the inside of your cheek, but you’ll count it as a win

With a bit more ease you smile, and unconsciously, you begin the movement needed to take the next step-

Three things happen in the span of two seconds: a bolt of excruciating pain slices up your calf with all the subtleness of a snapping bear trap. A yelp rips from your throat before you have a hope of muffling it, and before you can brace to make contact with the sand, there is a rapid flurry of splashes behind you accompanied by a startled trill before something abruptly stops your fall

A soaked, webbed appendage securely supports your head, the other you can feel pressing into your stomach, holding your body up from the sand. In a potent mix of fear and utter embarrassment you dare not move as you feel a surge of heat explode across your face 

Optimus had stopped your fall

From somewhere behind you, you can clearly hear the sound of Optimus’s calculated, deep breathing, and you don’t need to crane your head back to look at him to know that his eyes are no doubt as wide as saucers. He doesn’t move, and neither do you

The very tips of his clawed fingers press just enough into the plush flesh of your covered stomach that you can feel them pinching the surface of your skin through your t-shirt, and so, you shove aside your immense mortification and force yourself to find your voice 

“Uhm…meant to do that” 

Suddenly, you’re being moved with all the grace and care one would use to handle a helpless infant. As he meticulously lowers your form to the sand, the hand on your face shifting to rest on the side of your neck do you wonder if it’s at all possible for Optimus to hear how hard your heart is thundering with his close proximity 

His hands hover and then gradually pull away from you once he is sure you are steady on the floor and not going to keel over just from sitting upright

You don’t want to look at him, scared of what expression he might be wearing and dreading the thought of him seeing your own. Your own cherry red face that you know is as obvious as it feels

You want nothing more than for a sinkhole to open up in the sand right beneath you and swallow you into darkness, but alas, that pity isn’t granted 

You can hear sand shifting behind you, most likely Optimus trying to move higher up the sand to be near you, the mer had a strange obsession with being as close to you as possible when he could. His form settles besides you in the corner of your peripheral vision, his shadow bathing you in temporary shade that only further confirms how close he is

A troubled chirp and a gentle nudge to your shoulder, followed by a puff of hot air hitting the shell of your ear caused your breathing to involuntarily still, and then, his troubled face is ducking down and moving into your field of vision 

He doesn't look angry, or disappointed, or judgemental at all, you find nothing in his gaze to feel ashamed about

He just looks worried, a worry of such caring magnitudes it renders you speechless for a moment, totally lost on how to respond, and curiously, has the temperature in your cheeks rising higher 

When you do respond, your voice is low, head still ducked as you fiddle with your fingers anxiously “Okay…maybe I’m not totally okay..”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

It’s been a day since you woke up at the lagoon, and Optimus has been at your beck and call for that entire duration 

He rarely leaves you, which in fairness you suppose you can’t blame him for doing, given how you told him you were totally fine and then nearly face planted the floor seconds later. You try to cut him some slack, despite how overbearing he can be 

You’re certain it’s because he just wants to make sure you’re okay, but there have been times where you’ve quite literally had to swat him away with your own hand 

When he does leave, either willingly or by you demanding him to - to which you swear you can hear him whimper like a kicked puppy - it’s only ever for what feels like an hour at most (you lost your phone when you first arrived at the island, so you really had no clue how long he was actually gone for at a time), and everytime he comes back he always brings you a fish

You have a small collection of fish gathered on a palm tree leaf tucked away under a small gap in the rocks, concealed from the view of any wandering birds that may have been looking for an easy meal 

And of course, you’re grateful for Optimus’s attempts to help, but you can’t eat the fish without firewood, and you can’t gut the fish without your knife

The firewood part was an easy fix at least, and technically you could still eat the fish without gutting them first, but still, losing your only tool and means of general protection was pretty frustrating

It made you feel all the more smaller and helpless in the incredibly vast, uncharted territory you were stuck in 

Still, even without your knife and even with Optimus’s generous aid, you didn’t want to sit back helplessly while your dear friend did all the work, so, after Optimus’s form disappears beneath the surface of the water and you watch his red and blue rippled shape swim out of the lagoon, you climb to your feet

Learning that walking was a no go, you opt to instead hop on your good leg while dragging your other. Was it the most efficient means of moving around?? Not a chance. Was it a hell of a lot less painful then if you tried walking?? Absoloutly

When you reach the treeline, where the sand gradually climbs upward and becomes obscured by a layer of dried, fallen leaves and other masses of vegetation, you begin your search for a big branch to act as a walking aid

A splint probably would have been better, but given how you have no material to secure it to your leg, a walking stick will have to do. And thankfully, with the recent storm, there are a plethora of waiting branches littering the ground for you to pick from

It only takes around ten minutes of you scavenging before you come across a branch that looks decent enough, which surprises you as it does please you

With a grunt, you haul the thing up and hold it outwards to give it a once over. It wasn’t a particularly thick branch and was easy enough to hold with just one hand, it’s shape like that of a capital Y, forming the perfect perch for you to rest your arm over

The only downside you could really label was the fact it didn’t look the smoothest, but you were sure you could find a leaf somewhere and attempt to smooth it down for convenience. Though you doubted you’d even notice the pain of a splinter over your leg 

“Please don’t snap, please don’t snap, PLEASE don’t snap!..” you chant under your breath as you begin to settle the branch at your side and fold your arm over the top where it rests beneath your armpit

You stand, processing the feel, and with a final prayer, you begin to lean your weight onto the branch

It holds. Doesn’t so much as snap a creak of exertion at supporting you. Hopeful results, but you need to know for sure it’ll work

You take a step forward, then repeat with your injured leg, using the stick to carry the brunt of your weight as you use it to propel yourself forward a few inches. Again, the branch doesn’t utter a single groan of complaint 

You sigh, a small blessing of good luck 

“Firewood..” you mutter to yourself, already using your new crutch to turn back to the trees where you focus to gather as many small pieces of wood you can find to construct a fire

Though you know starting one will be no easy feat with the loss of your knife

You didn’t have the standard fishing knife when you’d first started your career, you didn’t see a need to purchase one at the time when you already had an old camping knife that could cut fishing line, cut bait, and prepare fish just as well

The thing had been sitting on your kitchen shelf for god knows how long until then, so it was nice to finally get some use out of it 

But what you really, really missed about it the most right now, was the flint fire starter it came with 

You didn’t even know it came with the feature when you’d first brought it, but man what you would give to have that knife back. Starting a fire was certainly going to be a lot more interesting without, it wouldn’t be impossible, but the difficulty had certainly amped up

And you couldn’t just simply not have a fire, it would get cold when the sun went down, and even if you hadn’t come across any dangerous predators on the land just yet, you’re not terribly keen on the idea of sitting terrified in the freezing darkness 

Plus, you’re not so desperately hungry that you’ll resort to eating raw fish yet

Starting a fire with two twigs can’t possibly be that hard

After you’ve gathered as much firewood in your arm that isn’t holding your clutch as you can do you turn and begin to hobble back down in the direction of the lagoon, where you drop your supply into a pile in the sand a little ways up from the water. 

It’s not much, you’ll definitely have to do a few more trips of gathering small sticks, but it was a start 

“Hope the tide doesn’t come too far in..” you say as you raise your eyes to the shifting mass of blue beyond the safeguard of the lagoon's edge. The thought is instantly followed up by where you’re going to sleep tonight, since you doubt you could easily craft a shelter with a busted leg and without your knife

You consider the idea of a cave, you’d seen a handful along the parts of the island you’d explored, but you hurriedly brush away the idea, probably not wise to sleep in a cave when there was a possibility of the tide coming in

“I’ll deal with that problem later” you conclude, settling yourself into the sand with your legs either side of your pile of firewood. You look at it dejectedly, bracing yourself for whatever frustration you’re about to willing subject yourself to 

“Okay!...let's give this a shot”

With a stick in each hand you begin what you are sure is going to be a laborious task that is going to eat up possibly the next few hours of your time, you don’t know, you’d never made a fire by rubbing sticks before

It's not six minutes later that your shoulders begin to cry from the repetitive motion, the ache building and building until it forces you to stop and you heave for breath, not realising you’d been holding it

There isn’t so much as a dent in your sticks, and your firewood looks no closer to being lit then it did when you gathered it 

You hang your head “Nnnngh…”

The process of rubbing your two sticks furiously together, only to then stop to grant your arms some mercy, followed by repeating the process went on for several minutes, and both your sticks and firewood continue to mock your efforts

If it’s the heat from the sun, the amount of effort you’re forcing your body to produce with rubbing the sticks, or a mix of both, but you can feel a thin veil of sweat on your forehead and an annoying heat spreading on your back where the sun hits you

No fire, no knife, no shelter, no good pair of legs because the storm had to fuck up one of them!-

“UGH!”

The frustration boils over, and in a blind moment of pure annoyance, you pick up the largest chunk of your firewood and proceed to lob it as far as you’re able to into the lagoon, just in time for Optimus to move into the calm shallows where his body breached the surface 

His delighted chirp of greeting is cut off as the twig bounced harmlessly off his head and then plonked into the water beside him. He blinked confused eyes, turning to watch the wood sink till it came to gently rest in the sand

He blinked again, then, turned back to you

Mortified is an understatement for how you feel 

“Oh my god!- I am SO so so sorry!! I-I swear I wasn’t aiming for you!! I just-” there is no possible explanation that exists on earth nor jupiter that you can conjure up to explain your childness display of annoyance, so instead you simply sigh, for what feels like the umpteenth time that day 

“I…yeah I got nothing, that was just stupid of me” you admit while rubbing the back of your neck

Though you feel your apology and flimsy excuse aren’t substantial, Optimus didn’t appear offended in the slightest, he appeared just as happy to see you as he did shortly after you had woken up

As you had come to expect, in his hand he holds a fish, one you cannot name a species too, but it is one Optimus has gifted to you before so you’re comforted with the knowledge it’s safe to eat 

‘Safe to eat when it’s cooked at least’

“Thanks buddy, can you put it with the others?” you ask, waving your stick in the general direct of the current fish hoard he’s gathered for you before you resume your fire making efforts

Optimus does as you ask without complaint, as you have learnt he often does, why he is so ready to accept your requests for literally anything you still don’t fully understand…or at least, you think you don’t

An answer had begun to trickle into the back of your mind, one which fills you with an endless, overflowing surge of anxiety that thinking about it for too long has you zoning out. Has something uncomfortable clutching your heart, a crawl racking up your spine that has you shivering

A feeling that is always accompanied by a longing yearnsome stare of adoration that feels a bit too domestic for your comfort, a tender brush of knuckles on the side of your head that easily hooks your hair behind your ear and out of your face, an action that shouldn’t make your heart rate pulse the way it does

Because being friends with someone shouldn’t come with confusing, fluffy feelings you’re too scared to unpack

“Maybe he’s just trying to be accommodating” was the excuse you’d told yourself when those unexplained little bubbly feelings began to become a bit too common for you to easily brush aside, and everytime you try to pair an explanation to his nurturing, near worshipful behaviour, you believe yourself a little less 

Even so, you refuse to let yourself believe for a second that Optimus is doing any of this because of some…crush on you

You were entirely different species! It wouldn’t be in his nature to pursue someone of a different biology. On the very rare chance he did see more than a friend in you (of which you heavily doubt), what on earth would he see in you that he wouldn’t find in another mer?? 

You couldn’t even breathe underwater for crying out loud! You had no characteristics that made you look anything remotely like a mermaid, so no, there was no way Optimus was doing any of these gestures in an attempt to impress you, to show he could be reliable, protective, loyal 

No

Optimus was your dear friend, nothing more

He needed to be with his own kind, someone like him, someone who could thrive in the water and not tie him down to navigating only the shorelines. It wouldn’t be fair to either of you, but especially him 

So no, Optimus did not have a crush on you. It made no sense for him to hold such feelings. He was intelligent, far more than yourself, surely he would see the fault in chasing after you. He was of the sea, and you the land, you weren’t compatible

Diving into those thoughts, you hadn’t even clocked how you’d fallen quiet, how your fire starting efforts had gradually slowed to a stop, leaving you to stare blankly off into the distance with an unreadable expression - but Optimus had noticed

He tilted his head, confused, assuming you were collecting your thoughts. But when a large enough space of time had passed and you still hadn’t so much as twitched, he chirped. No response 

Easily sliding closer his fins lower in worry on instinct at the way you don’t even seem to notice his presence, another concerned chirp goes unacknowledged by you. It doesn’t take him long before he decides to nudge you

You straighten, blinking hard with a shake of your head as Optimus pulls you out from the corners of your mind and plonks you back there on the sand of the lagoon

Turning, you’re ashamed at the still very present look of worry on his face, worry that you’ve caused, tilting his head like a curious dog trying to figure you out 

You give him a sheepish smile “Ah- Sorry! Spacing out” you assure, though Optimus only raises a brow at you

You don’t need to be a marine biologist to understand he doesn’t fully believe you, confirmed when he turns around and easily scoops up one of the fish from your pile and offers it to you encouragingly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he churrs a soothing purr to you

The salty waft from the fish reminds you of how hungry of you, and while Optimus’s gesture is heartwarming, you’re not eating a fish raw, thankfully, you’re not that desperate to quench the miniature ache that’s building in your stomach 

You push his hand aside with the back of your own, still smiling “Thanks buddy but, I can’t eat that” before his face can morph to unhappy you’re already explaining your reasoning 

“I need to get this fire going if I wanna cook any of them, not that that's gonna happen anytime soon, unfortunately..” you say with a huff and a not so pleased scowl down to your pile of kindling. Even with your explanation, Optimus only continued to look puzzled, and so, you resume venting your frustrations 

“Just had to loose my stupid knife in that stupid storm..” you grumble, not even trying to hide how annoyed you feel. You’re not sure if Optimus ever really understands your human speak when you try to communicate with him, but regardless, he’s an ear to listen if he can translate you or not

And man do you crave some kind of interaction, aside from when you talk to yourself to keep boredom at bay 

“I could have lost my jacket, or my own shoe, but nooo I had to lose my knife!” you reshuffle the kindling into a neater pile between your legs, brows gathered like angry thunder heads and face as welcoming as broken glass 

“As if hurting my leg wasn’t bad enough, losing my knife is just the cherry on top of the shitty sundae” just barely, you catch Optimus’s fin ears perking at that particular sentence, and a tiny voice in the back of your head snickered at the idea of him understanding what a swear word was

That same voice is quickly smothered underneath your frustrations however

“Can’t start a fire, can’t make a shelter, can’t gut fish..” you rant, the volume in your voice decreasing further and further as your own words reinforce just how helpless you’ve become with the loss of your blade

Even if you have no knowledge on how to survive being stranded, you’d managed, and your knife gave you a somewhat feeling of protection in the large, intimidating environment you’d been marooned on

A miniscule feeling of safety, gone just like that, all of a sudden you were back to the place you where when you’d first woken up on that island, and you hated it 

Silently, Optimus regards you and your curled up posture. You can’t easily curl your injured leg up to your chest, so you set on simply hugging one leg to your chest and hiding your face in your folded arms, sighing with all the tiredness and weariness in the world 

Seemed you were more tired than you thought

You can feel a building heat growing behind your eyes, and dreading the thought of crying infront of Optimus and making a fool of yourself, you refuse to look anywhere in his general direction, even when he lets out a series of soothing chirps that you know are his way of urging you to look at him 

You shift your head in your arms, turning further away from him 

“I-I’m okay Optimus, I’m okay!..” your voice sounds more watery then you would have liked, dammit 

God you were so pathetic! 

Here Optimus was, going out of his way to provide for you while you recovered, and all you can do is focus on the negatives. You have no doubt in your heart that if Optimus hadn’t chosen to be kind to you, you would be in a far dire situation, maybe even dead. You were continuously fumbling and falling, and Optimus, without fail, would always show to help you without you ever asking him to

He just would, as if doing so was as simple as breathing

Optimus truly was the best 

Attempting to compose yourself, you inhale a deep breath through your nose, chest rising as your lungs inflate to their fullest, then deflate as you exhale slowly through your mouth. When you reopen your eyes again, you feel better grounded and spare Optimus a glance, and notice how the mer has turned his focus to the water

There’s a considering detail to his face, contemplative, as if he was weighing the pros and cons of something 

Admittedly, the expression causes your grief to take a back seat as you hum curiously to yourself, wondering what thought could warrant such a heavy level of pondering 

“You good?” you ask

The only way you’re sure he heard you was the twitch in his fin on the side of his head, like the way a cat's ear would swivel to attention

He continued to study the surface of the water that glittered beneath the golden rays of sun that reflect of it, before he then turns his focus to you

The pensive quality to his face doesn’t waver, even when he temporarily looks off to the side and his brows gather by a smidge in the centre of his forehead. You try to not grow worried, you really try, whatever it is he’s thinking about you’re sure it’s nothing serious

But to see such an intense expression upon the otherwise social mer you’d come to warm up to was…concerning 

“You okay??..” you repeat your earlier inquiry, which causes Optimus to return his eyes back to you

He still looked serious, but there was something more relaxed about him, leaving you to assume that whatever debate he was having he must have come to a conclusion too. Whatever a mermaid of his size has to worry about you have zero clue, honestly you’re not entirely sure if knowing would just make you more nervous

If you wanted to know or not however, you learn that Optimus wasn’t planning to try and share

With another chirp he moved the fish into your hand, softly closing your fingers around it before you can utter a word. Then, he leaned forward until his forehead gently connected with your own. His skin was cold as it was smooth, pleasant to the touch, his rumbling churr travelling from his body to yours like a comforting hug 

There's something intimate and personal about the gesture that you simply don’t have the heart to turn down, he does it every time he has to leave you, the only answer you can make is that it’s some mermaid equivalent of saying goodbye

It was oddly comforting, like a wave, passing through your body, soothing and surprisingly powerful that struck down the knot of negativity and doubt festering within you

When he’d first tried to do it, you’d thought he was going to eat you and had jumped, but now, you welcomed the gesture gratefully 

He pulled away moments later, smiling down at you when your eyes fluttered back open. He offered one last chirp before he gradually began to drag himself back to the water, soon moving with graceful ease once deep enough, his grand body sliding out from the lagoon 

You blinked after him, brow climbing up into your hairline

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

It’s only ten minutes after Optimus leaves do you throw in the towel in your fire starting efforts, all you’ve managed to create is a cramp in your shoulder 

Sitting there in the sand sulking is the first thing you debate on doing, considering how done you are with just about everything, but in the end, you decide to exercise your injured leg instead 

You try to keep pressure off it as much as you can, but seeing how you and your crutch are going to be spending a lot of time together as you heal, the sooner you get used to moving around with it the better. Plus, it gave you a nice excuse to explore the rest of the lagoon 

Now that your earlier anxiety had worn away, you can appreciate how serene your surroundings are. Despite the storm, the lagoon seemed pretty well off all things considered. If you didn’t count the littering debris of tree branches you’d have thought the place was untouched entirely!

Walking along the rock formation that forms one half of the wall that snuggly cradles the lagoon off in a corner is much easier to walk along then the sand owning to the sturdier surface, and as you meander along, you frequently stop to admire the many smaller rock pools that had formed into the structure and the little worlds flourishing with them:

So far you’ve found starfish, shrimp, hermit crabs, regular crabs, small fish and even a jellyfish the size of your pinky. As you cross the halfway mark along the wall you stumble across a particular sizeable upturned seashell, must have been tossed there by a wave, you think 

Kneeling to pick it up you’re marvelled at how gorgeous it looks, scarlet stripes painting across its shell with little darker speckles that have you thinking of the red scales of Optimus’s shoulders and back

As you think of the mer, you can’t help but also remember that he’s been gone a suspiciously long amount of time..

You hum pensively as you cast your eyes over to the sea, wondering when a blue and cool grey face with an unmistakable pair of turquoise eyes will appear

You really have no way of telling how much time has passed exactly, but the sun was high up when he was last here, and now it’s lowering. If you had to wager a rough guess, evening couldn’t be more than a few hours away 

But this was definitely the longest period he had left you alone for in a while

Had you upset him earlier?

He’d been trying to comfort you, and all you’d really done was vent

Just as quickly as the theory enters your head do you dismiss it, if Optimus had really been annoyed then surely he wouldn’t have done his whole forehead goodbye thingy he was so fond of, why would he have smiled and chirped at you if your behaviour had irked him??

“Maybe..he’s out hunting??” you suggest to yourself “He’s been bringing me a lot of fish and I never see him eat any of them”

The idea of Optimus pushing away his own hunger in favour of making sure you had plenty both filled you with immense gratitude for the mer and sadness at the same time, you didn’t want him to neglect his needs for your sake. You make a mental note to discuss it with him whenever he returns, because you know he will, a gut instinct, you just don’t know when 

Hopefully before it’s dark..

Reaching the end of the rock platform you carefully lower yourself to sit, legs dangling over the ledge but not so much you risk falling in. Even if the water looked peaceful, you don’t fancy a dip with a hurt leg, considering how you were only just starting to nail walking with a crutch

With nothing to do and no mermaid to occupy your attention, you let your good leg sway and your fingers brush over the rough, textured surface of your seashell. For a brief moment, everything felt still and right

Your situation still wasn’t the best, you’re still stuck on an island with no other human life, but for now, everything felt okay 

With one hand holding your shell, thumb idly stroking back and forth across it, your other hand holds your face, your reflection on the water below staring right back

The water looked especially refreshing, a part of you does long to throw haste to the wind and jump in for a swim, but the more mature part of you knows that’ll only put needless stress on your leg trying to keep yourself afloat 

Sometimes, if you sit still enough, a small fish will dart out from its hiding spot under the rocks before zipping away from sight, it’s like your own personal aquarium, and even better, it’s free!

A particularly large fish caught your attention as it swam along with it’s belly against the smooth sand that made the bed of the lagoon, it paused some ways directly below you where you feet dangle, giving you a nice view of it’s spotty scales that likely make it blend in well amongst the underwater reeds

Seconds later, it decides it’s done resting and shoots off towards the exit of the, swimming over the ridge of sand before it dived into the vast sea beyond its sheltered walls 

You hadn’t noticed earlier, given how this was the first time you’d gotten so close to the exit and entrance of the lagoon, but where the gap in the wall had formed, the sand steeps upward into a miniature mound, cultivated through creatures big and small swimming in and out 

It dipped sharply downward into the rest of the ocean, merging with the seafloor below and meshing with the rest of the rock and sand beyond

As you stare, you acknowledge again how lucky it was that out of all the places you could have washed up, you washed up in the safety of a quite lagoon….and that you just happened to drift through the only gap that made both the exit and entrance to said lagoon

In fact, it was a miracle you hadn’t sunk to the sea floor before you were carried over to the lagoon. If you’d been drowning any earlier then you might have sunk too low to pass over the small wall of sand 

But, looking back, you don’t ever remember seeing this lagoon, even from the line of the coast path you’d been following before falling into the water. You’re sure you would have seen it, because before the storm had suddenly settled the weather had been relatively decent

The waves…couldn’t have carried you that far, could they??

In fact, you’re astonished the waves didn’t end up throwing you over the wall like a sack of potatoes. The walls were high yes, but not immensely so, a giant, powerful wave could have easily washed over them as if they were nothing

Really, what were the chances you’d wash up in a safe lagoon in the middle of a storm??

You can’t remember all the details very clearly, but you know for certain that you didn’t swim into the lagoon yourself, you remember the sea overpowering you, pushing you further under and fighting back against your thrashing legs and arms

You remember the fear, the blood chilling realisation that this is where you were going to meet your grave. At the bottom of the sea

You were drowning, you were going to die, and yet, despite all odds, you’re alive

Surely this couldn’t be dumb luck, it was just too convenient: the idea that the tide just happened to deliver your unconscious body into the lagoon, just happened to make you drift gracefully through the gap in the rocks rather than lobbing you over them, just happened to do all this before you drowned for real 

‘Unless…it wasn’t the sea that-!!’

Your seashell numbly fell from your hand

You don’t register it falling into the water with a light splash, nor do you register the large body of colour moving towards the lagoon, not until a body of red, blue, white and soft gray surges upwards from the water and has you wildly falling onto your back

The body of Optimus looms above you, strong arms that are twice the width of your body supporting him, while the end of his tail continues to sway in the water. Your chest heaves, eyes threatening to split your face from how they seemingly bug out of your skull from the sudden closeness

He’s pinned you beneath him on the rock, and your heart does a backflip involuntarily

You forget how to breath

Water cascaded down his body and drips down his chin, splashing onto your face, which seems to be the thing to urge you to do something, aside from lay there with your chest heaving like a petrified rabbit 

“Uh…H-Hi” you squeak, barely managing to move your fingers in a tiny wave 

If Optimus is at all aware of your fluster he is either oblivious to it, or was doing a very spectacular job of not showing it

His mouth pulled up into a smile at hearing your voice, sharp teeth glinting behind his lips that have your face turning darker, you can practically feel the heat travelling up to the tips of your ears 

You shuffle backwards as quickly as you can without infuriating your injury, coughing to find your voice “Heh, you uh..you were uhm, gone for a while” you start, completely unsure if there is even a way to smoothly transition to a conversation

Once you can comfortable sit with your injured leg outstretched, you are shocked again by Optimus when - instead of folding his arms and letting them rest on the rocky outcrop - he instead heaved his long, heavy body out of the water

Making a noise of concern you reach out and place your hand upon the scales of his arm as he settled in front of you “Wha- wait can you be fully out of the water?? Is that safe for you!”

At your touch, you instantly draw a pleased trill from him, the dominant fin that trails down the centre of his back and down his tail shivering happily. He offers you a gentle, assuring smile, before using the end of his tail to easily splash water up onto his body 

You get hit by a few drops of water in the process that draws a humoured huff from Optimus, the breath hitting your face and causing loose bits of your hair to be blown back 

You however, are far from being amused at his playfulness, your brain still whirling to digest your realisation 

It seemed whatever expression you were wearing was signal enough for the mer to gather you had something quite heavy on your mind, and he cocked his head at you, at once his amusement subsiding 

When you speak, your voice is quiet “Optimus..” the mer recognises the call of his name, offering you his full, undivided attention as you collect yourself to spit out the rest of your question 

“Did you…bring me to the lagoon?”

Who else could have??

Who else would know of such a safe, secure area for you to rest when hurt?? Who else could have easily swam you through the entrance and carefully laid you on the sand far away from the merciless crashing of waves?? Who else would have gone out of there way, in a storm of all things, to ensure your safety??

You’re not sure what type of reaction you were expecting, perhaps for him to give it a nervous second thought before answering? What you do not expect, is for Optimus to respond with a genuine, confident churr

Your eyes widen all over again

Optimus had been the one to bring you to the lagoon

Optimus had SAVED you

“Y-You…You..” you tried, stammering, his churr sounding so true that it threw you through several loops and then some. On the other hand, Optimus appeared unphased, he looked at you with such fond adoration, his smile small but real, that it was almost too much for you to process 

You try again to find your words, to say anything in response, but your throat continued to hold any half assembled words you’d strung together hostage, leaving you stuttering and red faced

Did Optimus understand the gravity of the deed he did? Did he know he had actually saved you from drowning?? That if he hadn’t found you, if he had been swimming at any other part of the island, if he’d shown up even a minute later then you might have..

“..Op..Optimus, I-I-”

He outstretched his hand, palm facing the sky, an object sitting there for you

At a glance, you thought it was some kind of weirdly shaped pebble, not the first of its type to be gifted to you by the mer. But when you look at it again, properly, you see the item for what it actually is

There's a tremble to your hands are you take the item slowly from him, being mindful of the bladed end against the fragile skin of your fingers 

“M-My…My knife..” you say, then, you whirl your face up to Optimus

He sits in a way an eager child would after they’ve handed someone a present, anticipating your reaction with a jubilant shine in his eye 

Meanwhile, yours shine for a different reason

You can’t think, can’t blink, can’t process why Optimus not only saved you, but returned your knife, the knife you had lost in the storm. How did he?!- WHY did he?!-

“You….You..” your voice is quiet, still in disbelief “Y-You went…looking for this?? Is THAT where you’ve been?!”

A collection of pleased chirps and trills is his answer, his fins raising as you clumsily fumble to inspect the handle of your knife

You miss is the first time when you try to grab for the string handle that dangles from the bottom, but you eventually manage to grasp it with your shaking fingers, pulling on it to free the flint striker that slotted into it when not in use

You can…you can start your fire with this. Prepare your fish, make a new shelter if you have to!

All because…Optimus went searching for it

He had no use for a knife, why would he?? His webbed appendages were already naturally sharp and his teeth even more so, why would he need to find a knife?? For you, that’s why 

For you

…Small, damp spots form on the material of your now dried trousers as moisture begins to freely fall down your face, your cheeks becoming sleek with them in a matter of seconds 

“T-This is…i-its..”

Your voice is devoid of its usually cheery quality that Optimus had come to admire so much, now, you only sound confused, sad, it doesn’t sit right with him at all

Afraid that he is the cause, Optimus ducked his head to try and catch your eye, but he barely gets a glance at your face before a broken sob rips out of your throat, startling him back 

You sob, your knife clattering to the rocky surface beneath you as your hands fly up to desperately hide your face and muffle your howling. The sound of Optimus’s panicked chirps as he tries to figure out what has caused you such unexpected distress are drowned out under the sound of your gross sniffling and crying 

You hiccuped, choking for air past your sobbing, body trembling. Your rocked with a wail, curling up to bury your face in your palm before Optimus can see 

Your heart was flooded with gratitude, overflowing with warmth and approval for the grand mermaid the likes of which you had never felt for any other being before. But alongside it, was a just as immense sense of confusion, of astonishment, of fear

Why? Why was Optimus so-…why would he bother-

“T-This!-..T-This is-” you hiccup, sniffling loudly as you clumsily wipe your eyes “T-This is..t-the nicest thing anyones ever done for me!!” you wail, head still ducked so low that Optimus can’t see your face. 

He churrs and chirps non-stop, desperately trying to figure out how he should proceed, you should say something to calm him, to promise him you are the furthest thing from disappointed at his act of kindness, but all you can think to say is:

“W-Why?..” You croak, pulling at the bottom of your shirt as a makeshift rag, wiping it across your face “W-Why are you…y-you being so..” with courage, you shakily raise your head to Optimus, who cowers with a sad whine at the disheartening look on your tear stained face

Your eyes were puffy, red, and you looked so utterly lost and confused that it caught him so off guard he almost slipped off the edge of the rock. With a trembling voice, you manage to finish your query: “Why are you being so…n-nice to me??”

Optimus found himself frozen, like ice had been injected into his being, he had never expected such an intense bout of tears from you from his gift. Was it not to your liking? Had he overstepped?? If only you could simply tell him what was wrong, he would fix it!

It took your sight becoming blurry once again, and a hiccup to escape your throat do you process that you were crying again

You knew you shouldn’t, you knew it would only make Optimus more stressed, but you just couldn’t stop it, you couldn’t stop it from building and overflowing inside you

You hugged yourself, arms tightly wrapping around your body with your head hung low. You must look so tiny to Optimus, so small and dramatic, he must be revolted at your improper reaction to his generous, meaningful gift..

A gentle nudge to the side of your head as Optimus, with all the tenderness he could muster, softly touched the side of your head in a brief nuzzle. He chirped, but you refused to abide to his wordless request, furiously shaking your head

Something woeful fell over his expression, and knowing you were the cause only makes the ache in your chest double 

You just didn’t understand, why was Optimus so caring towards you?? Why you?? Why not another mer?? What made you so…special to him??

Carefully, with precise movements, Optimus slowly curled himself around you, circling you protectively with his tail. Still with care, churring sadfully at your sniffling, he laid his chin upon your good leg, staring upward at you 

You didn’t want to look at him, you knew it would just cause you to break further, and yet, your head slowly turned without thought, hands moving away from your face until you meet his:

The look on his face, the way he looks at you - you feel your heart simultaneously break and swell 

You were uncertain just how much Optimus was able to understand the true extent of your muddled emotions, you weren’t even sure just how much you could make sense of them. But what you were certain of was the weight in your chest, and how looking at Optimus, seeing the honest to goodness care in his eyes made it feel just that bit lighter

All for you, imperfect, messy, unique you 

You reached for him, gently cupping either side of his face with your hands that looked dwarfed in comparison. He leaned into the touch, quietly churring. Tears welled back up in your glossy eyes, shivering from the intensity of your emotions 

Your voice wobbled as you spoke “T-Thank you”

Without asking, your tone conveying enough, Optimus moved forward. You carefully wrapped your arms around his head, pulling him to your chest where you lowered your head into the crown of his own, sobbing quietly, soft sniffles leaving you ever now and then 

An arm gently wrapped around you, his hand reaching for the small of your back where he simply supported you. After a moment, he began to churr again, the calming vibrations reminding you of a large, purring cat

Before you can stop it, you huff out a tired snicker at the amusing comparison 

The length of Optimus’s grand tail curls tighter around you, safely cocooning you, you had never felt so safe and grounded then right there, in the centre of his embrace, his head nuzzling into your stomach.

You held him tightly, trying to return even a fraction of the feeling of security you felt by his presence

“Thank you..” you said again, and you meant it