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the-monkeies-girl · 4 months

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Noa x human reader maybe reader is telling him about human customs

The slow burn queen reTURNS!!!!!

Title: Customary. Rating: K. ( Super fluffy, we love. ) Words: 4.2K+ Pairing: Implied ! Noa x Human!Reader. Summary: Noa finds the concept of kissing interesting, he knew about it, has received his fair share from primarily his mother, forehead kisses here and there, scattered like leaves in his memory, but it was never the preferred way to show affection. ** Does contain mild spoilers for Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes ** READ THE SERIES HERE.

-- -- --

Noa, in his time knowing you, figured that pressing for explanations left him without them. Or at least, the imposing questions startled enough that you didn't quite know how to answer. Explaining to him that kissing was indeed a way to show affection, but it also had a deeper meaning, at least to you, proved a difficult task. He’s curious about it, you could tell as he was rocking back and forth in some anticipation of your words, but in his nature, he stayed quiet and looked at you, observing your expression and your demeanor.

Drawing your bottom lip in, you chewed it in thought before releasing it, completely oblivious to Noa’s eyes watching the movement with some sort of amusement. Why Echo does that, he did not understand. He chose not to, but would remain curious and accepting if you chose to ever explain it to him. He reached up and pressed the back of his right pointer finger to his lip, savoring the sensation for a few fleeting moments before dropping the hand again as you finally found your voice, “It’s… It’s a way to uh… I don’t really know how to…”

The change in your face as you trail off trying to explain, Noa looked at the crease between your eyebrows and mimicked the expression momentarily to remind himself that it was your inquiring face. He’d seen it so frequently lately, almost taking a sickening solace in it because it meant you would talk to him, it meant you would pay attention to him. Something in the pit of his stomach, as unsettling as it was, yearned to have you by him, scent, physically, mentally. Physical… Noa muttered inside of his head and let his green gaze fall to your lap, more or less to study your hands that collapsed there.

The fidgeting of your fingers was evident, twisting and picking at your fingernails. For a split second the Ape wanted nothing more than to grab them in some feeble attempt to keep you calm and focused but he refrained. Inappropriate behavior with an Echo, he was screaming at himself and raised his hand to touch the band on his arm; a habit he found himself doing now when he needed to be grounded. The blue feathers tickled him and he closed his eyes for a split second. A reminder of who he was and who you were in comparison. Next on the list of ailments were the hard swallows and your inability to look straight at him. That he did not understand. Why not look at him? Perhaps, looking at him would help you answer! Noa would encourage answers occasionally when you were in the mood, but never forced them.

He, for a moment in time, could almost feel your heart beating, or at least, he could hear it and the pace sped up. It was a strange sensation. Whilst he knew that time didn't speed or slow down, it felt like both were happening simultaneously. Like, he had climbed to the highest point possible and intentionally let go. That feeling where you’re caught in the air. Did your heart speed up? Noa tilted his head as you came to glance over his shoulder at the tall trees that happily boarded the village, any attempt at words now ceasing as you didn't know how to explain to him what a kiss meant to you. Maybe, he mis-heard.

“It’s romantic.” Finally setting on a word, you shifted on the log you had grown to enjoy from hours of talking to Noa. It was a term sometimes forgotten, especially in the state of the world. Humans who had the ability to breed successfully often did so out of necessity, never love or romantic intentions. You thought about that. Your parents did just that, you were a product of need, not love. In fact, thinking kisses were a romantic notion has always been brushed aside, many telling you it was merely a fever dream, an unrealistic goal and you needed to get your head of the clouds to focus on the bigger picture. Humans are denoted down to mating for need, not for want, pleasure and surely not for romantic gain.

“An expression of… love.” You went on to say, preoccupying your hands by picking at the log you were sitting on. A piece of wood splintered off and a deep part of you wanted to shove it between your skin just to get yourself out of the situation. Out of having to explain. Words escaped you again when he looked at you. Swimming in green eyes for a second, you swallowed hard and forced your eyes to look elsewhere, knowing that Noa was able to inadvertently get you this… Worked up with just a look was uneasy at times, especially when the two of you were alone. Oftentimes, at least since Noa found you, he left you feeling something inexplicable. Something almost, dare you say, primal. The want to touch him, the want for his attention. No, you whispered inside of your head, it was beyond that, but it was not possible for it to ever become a reality. It… was…You were shameful to admit what it was. The thoughts racked in your mind like a vicious attack. Not even wanting anymore, it felt like a need that was drawing the two of you together like magnets. Need to be near, need to hear him, need to smell him, to… Indulge in him.

Love itself was an understanding between the two of you, it was often brought up here and there when discussing bonds, usually between families. You had gotten quite a bit out of him regarding, especially when you were introduced to both Soona and Anaya. The three shared an intensely deep bond, reminiscent of love between siblings, including pestering, annoyance, admiration and teasing. When you explained that to Noa, he concluded that your comparison was very much on the nose.

He very seldom touched based on his parents; a very obvious fresh wound he never wanted to delve into and you never had it in yourself to ever ask flat out. He explained before many times what had happened, but only because you would get a part of the story before he trailed off to say something that would throw the conversation to the side. You’d ask again a few days later getting another slice of the story and through that you put your pieces together. His father was gone… Their village burned… Many lost, but many found. They returned, rebuilding now. His mother, still here and you had the privilege of meeting once, and through their time restructuring their clan, they mourned. A custom deeply ingrained in the Apes which you had no idea about until he explained in simple terms.

-- -- --

‘Missing him’, he signed to you the day you asked about his father, about the relationship. Perhaps, a form of escapism. You never knew your father as well as you wanted. ‘Many days I spend thinking how it would be different if I were stronger, more able to save…’

“You did the best you could have, Noa.” You whispered to him out of empathy. It was evident in your voice, and Noa found it impeccably interesting just how easy it was to read humans. Their faces and their voices gave away so much of their inner thoughts, and it was truly no different with you. Though, there was something about you, off putting at times, that Noa couldn’t quite pinpoint. He shook it aside often as he figured maybe you were reserved and didn't want to talk, only letting it bother him in the late nights when he found it difficult to sleep, when he was fidgeting with something to fix. You were not telling him something, there was an obvious secret.

Obvious secret that came to fruition when he recognized you cared for him beyond that of any other social relationship he had. That was this moment when it got quiet between the two of you. No words, not even a sound coming from either of you as Noa peered into your eyes, his next string of signs coming off pseudo aggressive, but his intention was to impress. He would do this with a female ape he had piqued interest in. Boast of your accomplishments. Show you are the best or the best and are able to provide comfort and security. He indirectly did this towards you, ‘I am strong now,’ His signing was slow, languid as you were still learning. You found it endearing he was able to accommodate.

‘I understand…. Things I did not. Understand more now… About…’ He gestured at you instead of signing the word for ‘Echo’. He meant it as a personal statement, but your name was left out of it to keep some sort of distance. ‘I learn more because I have you.’

He saw a small smile creep on your lips, just enough to tease him with the image of a full grin. A full expression of glee. But, it was short lived as you wrapped your arms around yourself protectively and let your eyes fall to the side, “Thanks for giving me a second chance.”

Duel meaning with that, Noa huffed to himself. He had saved you once, shortly after returning home to rebuild. You were battered, bloodied and begged. Apes from the other Valley must have gotten their hands on you, having often used Echo’s to hunt for sport and leisure. At least, that is what he figured and he never pushed you to detail the events that lead you to the Eagle Clan. It took you a long time to warm up to him, to any of the Apes, but once you did, your value skyrocketed when Noa realized the potential he had to learn about Echo’s, about their habits and culture and how it may have differed from his own. He saved you both physically and then mentally by keeping these conversations going. You knew their purpose, he explained it in quite some detail. He was taking it upon himself to learn the ways of Echo’s as that is what Caesar intended. Raka intended. Maybe even what Noa now truly intended, no longer subsiding and explaining to himself that it would benefit the clan as a whole. As long as you selfishly benefited him, Noa was satisfied.

‘Ape and Echo…” He told you with a sharp intake of breath, moving just an inch towards you to captivate your gaze once again. ‘Human.’ He didn't correct himself and you knew what he meant by the word ‘Echo’, it was a courtesy now for him to call you what you would call yourself. A human… (Name). Noa didn't dare delve into that sort of familiarity yet and instead he loosely let his eyes fall into yours, defenseless in appearance and he could see your chest rising and falling out of the bottom of his vision. Echo’s were prone to nerves, often manifesting in heavy breathing, sweating and occasionally aggressiveness though Noa had yet to see that with you.

It was a quick analysis you did with him so near to your face. The creases between the bridge of his brows, the tiredness that leaked from under his eyes, his lips partially opened to display his canines. Not actively doing anything to be intimidating, he just naturally was. There was a gruff nature to his appearance, one that was slightly mysterious but oddly inviting, you wanted to run your fingertips up the broad plain between his eyes into what appeared to be coarse fur. Just to know what it felt like, just to say he allowed you to do that. Breathing in, Noa could see your rib cage expanding and then sinking back in. You were thinking. At least, so he thought. This was the closest he’s been to you, and while your scent was evident whenever you were around, it was almost overbearing now. Intoxicating and smothering. Noa would let you drown him if you pleased.

He clarified what he meant, ‘Side by side? Possible?’ Letting your breath go, Noa turned around and paced to his right. There was no reason to be so close, he figured. No reason at all.

‘Maybe.’ Was the garnered response he got from you when he peered over his shoulder, now longing to hear your voice as you had signed your answer.

-- -- --

Now, the word… Romantic… This was the first time Noa heard of this word. He understood now that it was a branch of love, but how far down did it go? Paternal? Maternal? Mates? Friends and acquaintances? No, no he thought to himself and shuffled to his feet. He took pace to the right and lightly placed his hand on his horse. Love between himself and his horse? They snorted in response, Noa dropping down to all fours and crawling to you.

You had watched his movements. He was contemplating and processing; something the two of you found yourselves doing the more frequent these conversations were. His deal was to pace, usually to the right of him. It shocked you that he had moved so fast towards you, it would only take you spreading your legs ever so slightly to allow him between them. To allow him to be as close to you as possible. But, you kept your knees together, keeping him at a distance. He sat back in front of you on his legs, eyes flicking between yours, reading the minute details on your face.

“Love between?” He signed that ever so slightly, grunting with the movement. It was fast, but you understood it enough to contemplate an answer. And there was only one, and you had hoped with it would come the end of the conversation.

“Mates.”

It was now Noa’s turn to crease his eyebrows, this time out of bitter confusion. Romance and romantic endeavors were not completely lost, now that he understood what it fully meant. As opposed to Apes before the Rise, they now had the social ability for monogamous and romantic relationships. Noa knew of nothing else in his clan. You may love and like whomever you choose, a mate for life, though of course there was the occasional talk of who would be best suited for another. Marriage was an enlightened way of living, or so Noa heard from many around him. He felt destined at times, but never found anything beyond that.

Were… you implying based on your inability to say’ romantic’ off the bat, that Apes were not capable? Apes did not understand? That is where the question and tone that left Noa came from, purely from offense and defense at the same time, “Eagle Clan…” He paused to collect his thoughts to make sure you understood what he was saying and to change your conception. Your human ignorance. You couldn’t be blamed but it was still a frustration. “Do you not think we have?”

“I---” Feeling like a child being scorned for doing something wrong, you dipped your head and looked at your fingers again. Noa was stiff next to you, shoulder blades turned in ever so gently. It wasn’t apparent from a distance, but surely this close to him, you could see the change of his stance. It left you almost breathless but you shook it aside and muttered shamefully, “You do.”

“Many generations,” Noa stood up and you found your eyes following him. His hips hit your eye line first, they were right in front of you. Narrow, but muscular. Good for climbing. His chest, broad and strong, but you suspected that as he had gotten older, it became increasingly so, to the point where you just wanted to brush your fingers against him to see how the muscles would react under your touch. Your eyes lingered for a few seconds longer on his scar, encasing his right pectoral. Then his face. He didn't appear mad, angry, which is often why he would stand up. To avoid, distract, not answer. This was different though, the way he held himself up. You couldn’t pinpoint the sensation but it left you nearly dizzy looking into his eyes, foreloned like you ate a forged mushroom that wasn’t what it appeared to be.

“My clan has been through many generations, and I have known nothing other than… Than…”

“I’m sorry, I didn't mean to offend---”

“Not offended,” Noa grumbled, touching his hand to the side of his head. His grasp was open, hand resting in a ‘C’ position as he did so, repeating the movement a few times to emphasize to you what he was thinking, “Confused why you think Apes do not understand.”

“I-I…” You struggled for some answer. You only made the assumption up based on what you were told by other humans. But, Noa questioned everything you knew. Noa himself made you question everything you knew. “I’m sorry.”

“Echo’s apologize for such useless things.,” He turned his back towards you and shuffled to the right, towards his horse but then passed it. Towards the embankment of a small stream he often visited as a child when he was in trouble. He smiled fondly at those memories. “You did not know, how would you? You are not Ape.”

Noa knew you would follow him down to the water. You were faster this time than you usually were, Noa’s ears picking up on the sound of you immediately standing up, some twigs falling under your feet and crunching from the pressure as you made haste. He was amused ever so slightly by that, the urgency he put you in. More intriguing though, was the question that spilled from your lips.

“Have you ever felt it?”

He feigned ignorance to that and questioned back, “Felt?”

“Romantic love.”

Contemplation. Noa dipped his left fingertips into the stream and let the water trail between his open digits. It felt good, relaxing and calming though inside, he felt anything but. How would he know what it felt like? Would it… Make him feel different? Put him in a stupor like he found himself with you more often than the last few meetings? Would it make him feel feral? The disgusting feeling he had deep in the pit of his stomach to smash in the face of anyone who got too near to you, especially a male. The lingering on his palms of his fingers digging tightly into his already hard skin when you got too close to him. Would it make him… Lose control? Bite your arm, bite the space between your shoulder blades, grab your hair and pull you to him, make you his in the only way that was fathomable to him during those late nights when he couldn't find sleep.

Or… Was it that sensation he got when you were looking at him, making the unsafe assumption that he would not notice? Not knowing that you were stretching out towards him silently? Ah yes, that was often his favorite thing to catch you doing. He’d preen himself at the thought when he was alone, but now he was thinking it right in front of you, your arm briefly rubbing against his own as you crouched to be next to the water with him, eyes following the movement of his hand as he dipped it further into the water.. He needed to answer before you asked again, a tendency you did when you knew he had an answer stashed away somewhere.

“I do not know.”

Fair, you thought to yourself and mimed his behavior. Your right hand dipped into the water, encasing the entire thing and cutting off right at your wrist. It was shallow, not quite a river, but with time, it surely would forge its way. You had no idea how it must have felt to them, the bonds you had with Humans were all beneficial by circumstance. Artificial at times, never natural. Apes, even now as they were before, were incredibly social. You envied that they stayed that way, you yearned to have something similar. Humans were hostile, especially towards other humans they saw as threats and you only had a place if you could help or advance in any way. Closing your eyes, you hand moved from side to side, feeling small pebbles right beneath your fingertips.

Brushing your thumb accidentally against Noa’s, you were afraid to even look at him through your peripheral. Mustering enough to do just that, your eyes slipped open and you were relieved to see that he hadn’t noticed. Or at least, he didn't react. Maybe you got lucky and he thought it was the rushing water. You stiffened regardless but didn't push your hand back or move away. Instead, you steadfastly stayed put and swirled your left hand back towards him.

“Have you,” He started, softer than he meant, knowing what just happened under the water. He reached his thumb out once more just to see. “Have you felt?”

Noa moved this time, shuffling on his feet to get into a more comfortable position. His hand paced towards yours. You knew and your heart skipped a beat. Noa was mildly passive at times, shy and reserved on the surface but passive to serve his curiosity. He’d rather sit and observe and only take action when it was needed. Was he taking action? You were unsure but may as well try… That was a lame excuse but you found yourself repeating it over and over. Following suit, you reached your thumb out. Brush. That was definitely a pebble. It was too sharp to be anything else. Brush again. Oh, a stick, you clenched your jaw. One more… One more…

One more…. “Yes.”

Thumb caressing Noa’s, you had a hard time figuring out how it felt as the motion was submerged. It was rough, sure. Calloused most likely from years upon years of climbing and holding onto rougher surfaces. Hot, especially against the cold water that flowed now around the embraced fingers. He wasn’t necessarily reciprocating, but he wasn’t pulling away either. A good sign, you soothed yourself and boldly let your pointer finger find his. Now, your hands were in the form of a triangle and Noa finally responded. You felt his pointer curl slightly, tracing the smoothness that was your skin, down, down to the palm. Nonsensically, he traced a shape there.

“How.. did it feel?”

“It feels… Confusing.”

Noa nodded at this and shut his eyes pensively, his finger still pressing into your open palm. You could so easily close it though and grasp him. How that would be perceived, you had no idea but it was at least a thought.

“Confused.” He repeated to you, only using the past tense of your adjective. Introspectively, you wondered if Noa caught the fact that you used it in the present tense but his reaction told you he didn't. “I have not seen any Echo confused. Usually, know-it-alls.”

That made you laugh audibly. Noa glanced at you in that moment, taking in the nature of your face. The lines of your smile, curl of your lips, the sun basking your skin, cheeks ever so slightly red. It was a mental picture he’d like to keep forever. He beamed at that, that he was able to garner that sort of reaction from you. He hooted out his own laughter, feeling your fingers leave his as you pulled your hand out of the water. Patting it against your thigh, water droplets seeped into your skin there and Noa felt… Envious of them for getting to peer into you deeper.

“We usually are.” You admitted without hesitation, grasping your thigh with vigor. “But… Not with this.” Noa could have sworn he saw you vaguely gesture between himself and you, but it must have been in his head as you were quick to stand next to him. You simply pushed on your thigh as leverage to get up, Echo’s has terrible balance when compared to Apes. He made up the other movements. Yes, yes, he chirped to himself. Made up.

‘Why?’ He signed silently, knowing you caught him asking that without fully looking at him. He pestered you at the beginning with a lot of ‘why’ because you were explaining human things that he didn't understand.

“I don’t… Fully understand it.” It took only a blink for Noa to stand, his hand now dripping water from the tips of his elongated fingers.

‘Thought you did,’ This time around, he used both hands to sign. ‘If you feel it, how do you not understand?’

That was a good question you found yourself longing for an answer to and you wished you could give him that answer. You tried to come to one rationally. Maybe, what you were feeling now, letting your eyes trail up Noa’s body only to rest back on his unwavering glance, was just passing and fleeting. A crush of sorts. But, often with you, those sorted themselves out. You didn't want the attachments, knowing what the world was like. You didn't want the burden of someone else to worry about when you exerted so much energy worrying about yourself and your safety.

But with Noa, especially these last few months of building a relationship outside of just Ape and Echo, his own words mind you, it was… Different. Your eyes scanned crowds to find him, your ears knew the sound of not only his voice, but his huffs and grunts, the snort that fell from his lips when he laughed, the gait of his walk. Steady and sure of himself. You enjoyed soothing afternoons in the sun with Soona and Anaya as Noa went off on a small tangent, explaining how he was going to fix something in the village to improve their lives. The excitement he had when he got on all fours to move quickly when he saw something he wanted, something he wanted to accomplish… You sunk into his eyes, almost the color of the tree leaves in the early spring.

“Love doesn’t need to be understood,” Whispering that to him, you looked over his shoulder that was eye level to you as you were both standing and tried to find the most elegant way to put your thoughts into words. Elegance though, to Noa, did not matter. You could be blunt and brash and he would still listen all the same, “Love just needs to be embraced.”

#noa x reader #noa x human reader #kingdom of the planet of the apes #planet of the apes #noa #fanfic #fanfiction #emmy writes #planet of the apes x reader #kotpota

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honeydjarin · 10 months

Text

MOUSE IN THE KITCHEN

OPLA SANJI X SHORT!READER

Luffy isn’t the only one with a penchant for sneaking into the kitchen.

request: Hiii, if you want to I'd like to request a Sanji x short reader, where they try and help him out in the kitchen but can't reach anything. No pressure, just wondering

genre: fluff

word count: 2,000

a/n: normally I avoid any sort of specific physical features in my fics in order to make them as inclusive as possible, but as someone who must climb the shelves at the grocery store in order to reach anything, this request spoke to me. This one is a little silly and nothing but fluff. I hope you enjoy!

It’s late. The sun sank below the horizon long ago, leaving no trace of the adventures and games that took place during the daylight hours. Everyone else on the Going Merry is asleep. You really should be sleeping too, and you had been, not too long ago.

You don’t know what it is that stirred you from your slumber. Perhaps some noise as the ship rocks on lazy waves, or a crew mate talking just a bit too loud in their sleep. It doesn’t matter, really. What does matter is the thoughts that worm their way into your mind the longer you lie awake. Thoughts of something light, something sweet, something to satiate a craving, your body convinced it’s time for breakfast despite your mind knowing dawn is hours away. It doesn’t take long for the hollow ache in your stomach to drive you from the comfort of your hammock and up towards the galley.

You know the kitchen on the ship well. You know which floorboards creak and which are safe to step on, where the chef hides traps for Luffy and how to circumvent them, where all of the ingredients to satiate your sweet tooth are hiding.

Just thinking about the reason for your intimate knowledge of the ship’s kitchen is enough to send heat racing up your neck and settling beneath your cheeks. You press your fingers to the skin where your burning blood pools beneath the surface, taking a moment to relish in the sugar sweet feeling of a simple crush—a single name swirling through your brain is all it takes to leave you giggling quietly in the night.

Sanji, the newest member of the Straw Hat Crew. Sanji, the one who will never let another go hungry, not even a stranger. Sanji, the man with sun soaked hair and a honey dipped tongue.

Sanji.

When the chef first joined the crew, you admired him. He was caring and steady, he knew what he believed in. With his handsome looks, quick wit, and open flirtations, it didn’t take long for that admiration to slip into something that felt sweetly like affection. You couldn’t help but want to spend more time with the cook, hoping to join him in the activities that bring him the most joy so that you might better understand him. It didn’t take long for you to become nearly as familiar with the galley as he is.

You step into the kitchen, closing the door quietly behind you. You leave the lights off, not wanting to risk anyone else catching you in the galley (or getting the idea to grab a snack themselves). Instead, you stand in the dark, waiting for your eyes to adjust. Moonlight spills through the windows of the room, bright enough to see by, if you’re patient.

It isn’t long before you’re able to move again, walking along a familiar path towards where Sanji stores all things sugary.

There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach that you’re doing something you shouldn’t. Like if you have to sneak around then you’re in a place you don’t belong. This is Sanji’s space, cataloged and organized to best suit his needs and ensure the crew has enough supplies to last between islands. It feels strange to be in the kitchen without the sound of his laughter or the smell of something delicious cooking on the stove top.

Sanji’s presence is the piece that makes this space feel so comfortable. Without him, it feels too large, hollow. The galley has no life without its chef. You never really thought about how the kitchen would feel without him in it, and can’t help but hope it isn’t a feeling you become used to.

You know if you wake up the cook he will make something for you. He would rub the sleep from his eyes, only half succeeding, before asking what he could make to help satiate your craving with a smile. You would feel guilty the whole time.

It’s better to sneak through the galley for something you can find on your own than to disturb Sanji’s sleep.

The first thing you search for is chocolate. You crawl onto the countertop, balancing on your knees as your feet dangle over the edge, before opening the cabinet in front of you. You eye the chocolate chips, the miniature sweets sitting at a level seemingly so easy for the rest of the crew to grab. You doubt any of the others would have to climb to reach them.

Unfortunately, the only chocolate on the shelf is unsweetened. The lack of added sugar may be perfect for baking, but they won’t be sweet enough for your taste on their own.

You begin to drop down from the countertop, fully intending to continue your search for the perfect treat. Your feet drop to the ground quietly, and you land in an almost crouch. Perfect, the ship is silent, as it should be. You straighten up, intending to continue your search, but your knees, still tight from your recent slumber, crack as you stand. The sound rings out in the otherwise silent kitchen like a gunshot.

Maybe your creaking joints wouldn’t be a problem in a normal kitchen, but Sanji, who has ears attuned to any slight sound coming from the Galley (thanks to Luffy’s many attempts to raid the space at odd hours for food), surely heard the pop in his sleep. You may as well have knocked down all of the pots and shattered all of the dishes.

It isn’t long before the sound of hurried footsteps and frustrated grumbling reaches your ears. The door to the galley slams open, lights flickering on just a moment after, leaving you squinting as your eyes adjust to the room once more.

“Luffy, I swear if you touched any of the food I’ll—oh.” Sanji’s voice carries through the kitchen, his accent thicker than normal, sleep still clinging to his words. Your name rolls off his tongue, and you think it sounds sweeter in his sleep-addled voice than any chocolate could taste.

“Sorry, Sanji. I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just a little hungry,” you confess.

“You could have woken me up,” he says, just like you knew he would. “I’d have been happy to cook something for you.”

“I didn’t want to bother you. You deserve to rest. Especially when you already wake up so early each morning to make breakfast.”

Sanji hums, stepping farther into the kitchen. He looks more awake now than he did when he first arrived. His eyes don’t stray from your own as he speaks, no longer concerned about the state of the galley.

“For you, love, it’s never a bother.” The smile he offers you sends your heart fluttering in your chest. “Anyway, I’m awake now. What would you like to eat?”

He’s too good to you, too gentle. How could your heart ever stand a chance?

“I was just planning on eating a little chocolate, but it seems like there's only the unsweetened kind right now.”

“Ah, of course. Only something sweet would be fitting for my sweetheart.”

Your breath catches in your throat. His. He called you his.

You bring your hand up to your mouth, trying to hide the growing grin that spreads on your lips as you nearly melt from his words. The warmth blossoming in your chest will surely turn you into a puddle on the floor, and then Sanji will know just how much his words affect you (if he doesn’t know already).

“Can we make something with chocolate in it?” you ask.

“We?” Sanji repeats, as if he didn’t expect you to help him in this task. His gaze softens, eyes gleaming with something like affection, before adding. “Of course we can. How do strawberry and chocolate hand pies sound? I picked up some fresh jam at the last port.”

“It sounds perfect,” you say. It’s far more than you hoped to find during your late night search. When you got out of bed, you never would have guessed what kind of sweet you would find in the kitchen. You definitely didn’t expect to spend time baking with Sanji.

The two of you work comfortably together, only speaking when Sanji provides specific instructions or when you need clarification. The hazy fog of sleep still hovers over the both of you, even if you’re both awake enough now to function.

“Could you grab the chocolate chips for me?” Sanji asks.

It’s a simple request, one you can easily complete. You know where he keeps the chocolate chips, the unsweetened treat seeming much more appealing now that they’re going to be baked into something.

You make your way back over to the counter, situating yourself below the cabinet where the chocolate is stored. Then, you place your hands on the cool surface, preparing to make the climb. You’re certain Sanji knew this was the path necessary for you to take to reach the ingredient too. There’s no way for you to reach the chocolate chips without being higher up.

As you jump, using the force of your arms to help pull yourself up towards the counter just like you’ve done in other kitchens many times before, an unexpected force settles on your shoulders, pushing your feet back towards the ground.

“None of that, sweetheart. There will be no climbing on the countertops in my kitchen,” Sanji reprimands. He’s gentle in his scolding, the uptick of his lips and gleam in his eye letting you know he’s not really mad. “Sorry, I thought they were a bit lower.”

He doesn’t seem sorry.

You open your mouth to protest against what could only be meant as a jab about your height, but only a squeak comes out. Sanji’s warmth seeps into your back as he presses close, the shape of his hand burning into your hip as it settles there. You can feel the way his body stretches as he reaches up, leaning further into you, before easily grabbing the bag that seemed so far out of your reach. Any words you might have had to tell off the man for doing something for you when you could easily do the task yourself (as long as you could climb on the counter) fizzle out.

Sanji doesn’t look at you as he reaches for the chocolate, but the easy smile on his lips morphs into a lazy smirk. His thumb rubs slow, intentional circles where his hand remains steady on your hip, as if he was soothing a startled animal, coaxing you to stay close instead of running away, something you just might have done if he wasn’t purposefully grounding you while your thoughts soared.

Oh no, you think. He knows.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Sanji was already aware of your feelings for him—you’ve always worn your heart on your sleeve—but you had tried not to make your feelings for the chef too obvious.

Sanji pulls the chocolate chips down, but he doesn’t step away. He still holds you close as he bends, his face lowering until it’s right beside yours. Then, without warning, his lips are pressed to the curve of your cheek.

The kiss is quick, feather-light, but you’re certain he can feel the way your blood burns just beneath the surface of your skin, his quiet mumble of so warm the only confirmation you need, even if you weren’t meant to hear.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I just couldn’t help myself.” Before you can react, Sanji steps away from you, taking you in for only a moment longer before turning back to the task at hand. With how smoothly he acted, there’s no way he hadn’t planned that little stunt he pulled.

He definitely knows.

Sanji is already placing the hand pies in the oven by the time you’re finally able to move again, and you can’t help but feel almost frustrated that the chef didn’t give you a chance to return his affection.

You’re left waiting impatiently as he sets the timer, the miniature pies now the last thing on your mind. Sanji doesn’t seem to understand—you’re craving something sweet, and as far as you’re concerned, the sweetest thing on this ship is him.

a/n: thank you for reading〜♡

#vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #opla sanji #opla sanji x reader #opla x reader #sanji x you #opla sanji x you #opla x you #opla #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece live action

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just-some-user-hunny · 1 month

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Balerion bonded to bastard! Reader

~ In this Scenario, Balerion is still alive and breathing- albeit barely, and with little enthusiasm. He'd remain still in the sand, seafoam lapping at his scales, yet he feels little reason to move. He's old. Ancient, and tired. The rise and fall of his breath is gradual and laboured- slow like the moving tide. Ever since Viserys drew his last breath, Balerion felt as cold as the sea. His days of glory and war are memories grown old, and he is tired. He feels like sleeping forever now, listening to the faint call of seagulls and the noise of crashing tides.

~ Bastard! princess reader captures glimpses of him from her windows view, watching the old beast wither and fade upon the beach like he were a memory fizzling away into the seafoam. At first glimpse through the rain speckled glass pane- she had mistaken him for a large mountain of black rock.

~ now she's frightened, but, intrigued. She is still a child, a scared and desperate one, so she hatches a plan to reach the beach and perhaps ask the dragon nicely if he'd take her back home. (Besides, dragons do look scary, but Caraxes was nice to her. Maybe he'll be nice too?)

~ like a slippery little mouse, one day she escapes during dinnertime. Fueled to seek out the dragon after a one-sided argument with Daemon across the table. Whilst the servants and knights searched the castle grounds for her, she finds herself on the coastline, and beelines towards the mountain of a dragon, Balarion. She doesn't know who he is, all that he's a dragon. Dragons have wings. They can fly. He could take her home, away from these mad people.

~ her courage burns like a wavering candle, tears streaming down her face in distraught and desperation. The sounds of dragons roaring in the dragon pit fizzle her blood, she can hear the troubled songs of Caraxes and syrax in the distance, and it stirs her on to waken the sleeping dragon. Despite her little trembling hands and accelerated heartbeat.

~ Balarion is awoken- disturbed at the sound of a sobbing child. It is such an odd and peculiar sound to his ears, it startles him enough to raise his heavy head from the sand and look down upon a child he has never seen before. Inhaling deeply, he also doesn't recognise their scent. But there is some trace of dragon blood within her.

~ "excuse me, can you take me home? I need to go home, my mummy is there!". She proclaims as loudly as she can. As clearly as her choked up voice allows her.

~ Balarion feels himself grow soft at the sight of the little child- as soft as a dragon can be.

~ He blinks slowly at her, gently lowering his head to move closer. The sudden bravery of a mere child to approach him intrigues him greatly, and a rejuvenation overtakes his body. Suddenly his aching body doesn't feel so tired anymore- his stiffly folded wings that once enveloped the moon, suddenly feel spry and strong.

~ like a mountain unearthing itself from the earth, his massive body groaned and shuddered like a rolling thunderstorm- lifting from the cold evening sand and bubbling salty seafoam. The little girl stumbles backwards clumsily, afraid that maybe she has just prodded a sleeping angry beast, but she is met with no fire or teeth. this large, monstrously large dragon, is bowing his head to her. Like a mighty stag would do for a little fawn.

~ anxious- and brimming with excitement, her hands clasp upon the rough black scales of the sides of his neck. She climbs higher and higher, until she finds herself clambering onto the back of the beast, where an ancient and worn saddle remains. Roughly woven rope that has seen better days, and a simple leather seat awaits before her- and she climbs on.

~ her whole world seems to tilt and shift, like the earth was moving right beneath her feet as Balarion rises with a steady and heavy rumble. The stars are glittering above in the skies, and the cool evening air laps at the waves till they form foamy hills of white upon the dark sapphire waters. her heart is beating loudly and wildly in her chest now, her blood fizzling like lightning, and she stares across the ocean with determination soaring inside her. she's on the dragon now, and he seems eager to fly.

~ grappling the worn thick reins between her small hands, she recalls a word that the pale haired man called out to his crimson scaled dragon before he took off into the sky. The word is foreign, and doesn't quite suit the roll of her tongue. But she speaks it, a command that holds no hesitation.

~ "Sōvēs!".

~ Bastard! Princess had risen high into the sky, clutching for dear life upon the reigns that were held so tight in her hands, her knuckles had turned pale. The wind rushed and soared, and her ears felt like they had popped as they ascended higher and higher across the sea. Balerions' wings were unsheathed like the night sky as they beat against the wind, and although his body was aching and old, he was not brittle or weak.

Salt air rushed over her face like a splash of icy water as they flew over the ocean, and she watched the castle grow smaller and smaller as the wind carried them away.

~ they flew and flew, but Balarion grew weary from the sudden flight, and turned back towards the shoreline. Bastard! princess was at a loss of what to do- for her own stomach was churning at the realisation that she didn't know where she was trying to go. The old dragon seemed to also sense that, and made the decision for the both of them to head back towards the cold stone castle.

~ Awaiting upon the shoreline, was a small army of armoured men, and the white haired man, who wore an astounded expression. His eyes wide, and jaw slack in what could only be described as euphoric horror. The king, Viserys, despite his weak and brittle body, had ordered to be escorted outside to see with his very own eyes as to what was happening. They had heard the uproar of Balerions' wings from within the castle, Daemon had at once thought a sudden hurricane had hit amidst his search for the little girl he had stolen away, haste in his step as Rhaenyra attempted to sternly reason with him - until the unmistakable shrill deep noise of rumbling dragon-song erupted in the distance like thunder. Both adults stilled- their expressions still and astounded.

~ it was until the sudden and panicked cry of a knight that confirmed everyones hesitant thoughts.n

~ "Balerion the black dread has arisen! And the princess is with him!"

~ that was all Daemon needed to hear before he bounded for the exit. With haste.

~ Balerion had returned to the beach, just as the knights had suspected. They fell speechless at the sight of such a large and imposing dragon land back upon the sandy coastline, his energy low, but not gone.

~ Viserys was in utter disbelief, and excitement. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He had believed he would be the last rider of Balerion the black dread- the last targaryen to mount the beast that once was ridden by Aegon the conqueror, and many other infamous names.

~ The princess's little head of hair and frightful eyes peered down from her towering view upon the dragons back- eyeing the army of knights. Balerion grumbled a growl so low and frightening, it rattled the knights bones in their bodies. Their braced weapons could only serve as emotional support against such a beast.

~ "Dohaeras! Balerion!" Viserys roared in his deep and broken voice, his command did not hold as much power as it used to- but Balerion acknowledged it with an absentminded glance.

~ Eventually, through carefully worded coos and reassurances from young frightened handmaids that beckoned towards the bastard princess- she yielded. Wordlessly, Balarion lowered his head and allowed her to clamber down. Right into the shaking arms of a young woman in servants cloth, who had stood so close to the dragon, she felt her skin take heat and sweat profusely. The frightened and frustrated little girl was exhausted, and hungry. She has eaten very little earlier, picking at breadcrumbs like a little bird, and sipping only a little water. Her head lolled helplessly into the crook of the maiden's neck, weak and tired. the anxious woman backed away quickly.

~ Half asleep, and very upset, the little princess was placed into Rhaenyras' awaiting out-stretched arms. Her own little boys gathered around her like lambs as she petted the girl's back to comfort her. She fell limp, and asleep not too long after, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

~ Balerion watched them closely as they took his new little rider back up to the castle, even following as close as he could reach whilst still on the sand.

~ Viserys was white faced and trembling, a wry smile on his face, whilst Daemon was left expressionless. His palm cradled at the handle of his sword, troubled.

~ "The black dread yielded to her word Daemon- I had not thought that was possible". Viserys muttered.

~ "Neither did I". Daemon uttered back. His voice was even, and calm, yet his eyes held a thousand yard stare.

~ This was not supposed to happen. She was so young- and now with the black dread within her command? There was no saying of what may happen.

To be continued...

#balerion the black dread #hotd Balerion #yandere hotd #yan! dad daemon #bastard! princess reader #bastard! reader

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hawkinsbnbg · 1 month

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hold me tight

Written for @steddieangstyaugust Day 20: “I didn’t know where else to go.”

tags: post Starcourt, friends to lovers, requited unrequited love.

rated: T | word count: 1k4 | ao3

This was stupid, Steve told himself. Absolutely stupid. It wasn't like Eddie was his friend or anything.

They just happened to spend many sleepless nights together smoking and talking about everything and nothing. They just met up at Skull Rock almost every day so Steve could decompress by listening to Eddie's ramblings about DnD, Hell Fire Club, and Corroded Coffin. They just told each other a lot of secrets and held hands to offer each other comfort. They just shared multiple inside jokes that not even their own friends would know.

They just—

Okay, maybe Steve had downplayed it. Because at this point, Eddie might be his only real friend in this town.

And it was just Steve's luck to catch feelings for him and lose him in the process.

See, since his young age, Steve had always been self-aware enough to know what he wanted. Whether it was toys, food, or people. He just never made his liking obvious in case his parents decided to hold them over him.

Hence, nonchalance had always been his default façade. It was the "Kill two birds with one stone", helped him protect his secrets, helped him conceal his most vulnerable part, and helped him remain indestructible under scrutinizing eyes.

And for a long time, Steve thought he was so smart, hiding his true self behind the garnished mask he had created.

Until he met Nancy, until he got his heart broken that night in Tina's bathroom, until he stumbled on Eddie and realized that the mask he wore made him look exactly like what he always hated.

Bullshit.

And now, standing on the Munson Trailer's porch, Steve tried to not turn on his heels and run away or puke his guts out because he was too scared of facing rejection again.

But he also didn't want to be alone right now, and call it his moment of weakness, he just wanted to be held and reassured that everything would be alright even when he probably didn't deserve it.

Selfishly, though, he knew Eddie wouldn't say no to him, not when he was in such a pitiful state, not when they used to be good friends up until Steve ruined it all. And perhaps, it was the thought that gave him enough courage to rap his knuckles on the door.

"D'you know what time is it, man? If you're here to ask for weeds– Holy shit!"

Against his better judgment, Steve shrank in himself, ashamed that he was causing trouble for Eddie once more, making himself as small as possible and bracing for another rejection.

"Uhm, hi?" He smiled weakly.

Wordlessly, Eddie guided him inside, led him to the couch, and sat him down.

After handing him a glass of water, which he sipped slowly, Eddie started cleaning the cuts on his face, movements gentle as if afraid of hurting him.

Though it wasn't much and Steve knew any decent human being would treat him with the same sympathy, his heart still didn't get the memo and started somersaulting in his chest.

He watched the soft yellow light cast on Eddie's face, illuminating those dark brown eyes like stars, shining on the plump lips being worried between those sharp white teeth.

He glanced down, taking in the sleeveless black tee and gray sweatpants, the crimson guitar pick dangling on Eddie's chest as he leaned forward slightly, the tattoos on the pale arms, the long fingers, void of rings.

"What happened?" Eddie asked, sounding genuinely worried, after a moment of tense silence.

Instead of answering the question, Steve only shrugged and grimaced slightly.

"Sorry for waking you up this late. It's just," he averted his gaze to avoid Eddie's intense look. "I didn't know where else to go."

"You're always welcome here, Sweetheart," said Eddie kindly. "And you can wake me up whenever. We're already past that, aren't we?"

Eddie was right.

It wasn't rare for the older boy to climb through Steve's window at random hours and invite himself into Steve's bed so they could cuddle until morning. And it wasn't new for Steve to do so to Eddie, either.

Over just a few months, they had grown impossibly close and Steve would dare to say Eddie was the one who understood him the most and vice versa.

Except, it was never that simple, wasn't it?

It wasn't as if Steve hadn't kissed Eddie in a completely un-platonic way. It wasn't as if they hadn't seen each other since the day Eddie ran away from him, confused and terrified, leaving Steve with even more nightmares.

He sighed, suddenly feeling tired. Who was he kidding anyway? It was a huge mistake to come here after all.

"Yeah," he sniffed. "But I thought I wouldn't be welcomed anymore after what I did to you."

"Steve," said Eddie sharply.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he squeezed his eyes shut and raked his fingers through his sticky hair, using the dull aches to ground himself. "I– Tonight's been a lot. People died, Eddie. And all I could think about was you. As much as I regret driving you away, I'd kiss you again and again even if I were allowed to come back to that day to fix my mistake. Because it had kept you safe and away from me, from dangers. And I swear I'm not trying to make you forgive me out of pity. I know I had screwed up big time. So I'm gonna be out of your hair soo–"

Steve let out a gasp when Eddie suddenly kissed him, staring in shock as Eddie pressed another one on the corner of his mouth, tasting his blood and pain.

"What–"

"I'm aware this is far from the appropriate answer you deserve," Eddie brushed a hair out of Steve's forehead, smiling sadly. "But I couldn't find any way more obvious to tell you the kiss was never a mistake. Because I've been dreaming about it for months and you had granted me exactly what I wanted."

Steve was confused. Because why would Eddie say that? Why would he kiss Steve then when all Steve wanted was to make it right? Why would he look so sad when he had already shattered Steve's heart into pieces?

"Why?" Steve asked softly, unable to hold a grudge when Eddie was looking at him like he hung the moon and stars, overwhelming and nothing he had feared at all.

"I was scared," said Eddie bluntly without needing him to elaborate, always understanding him beyond words. "That's not an excuse for the way I acted with you. I was an ass for going radio silence and leaving you in the dark. As your friend, I should've known to communicate better. But I didn't and I caused you all this pain just because I panicked over a kiss I've been wanting since the first time I saw you."

"I'm really sorry, Sweetheart," said Eddie quietly, hand cradling his face gently like one would hold something precious. "For having been an idiot and a coward. For breaking your trust. For running away. For hurting you."

Leaning into the touch, Steve closed his eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling the smell of old weeds, leather, citrus, and cigarettes, feeling oddly homesick even though he was already home.

He wanted to get mad at Eddie, to demand some kind of compensation for his battered heart; and yet, he was tired, in pain, and about to keel over now the drug in his system had worn off.

However, he was in no shape to hold a serious conversation at the moment and he knew Eddie had noticed it too.

"Let's go take a shower first, okay?" Eddie leaned in and kissed his shoulder. It was so random but Steve still felt his cheeks warm at the intimate gesture.

Somehow, he didn't have the energy to feel embarrassed about it and ended up having Eddie wash his hair for him.

———

After making a call to check in with Robin as promised, he padded into Eddie's room and joined the older boy beneath the quilts and blankets, smiling softly as he thought about all the time he had been in Eddie's bed when he couldn't stand his parents' arguments.

When Eddie pulled him closer, he went willingly and melted into those arms, feeling warm and safe for the first time after two months of staying apart from his best friend.

"I love you," he mumbled into Eddie's chest, too relaxed and sleepy to care about the consequences. Go big or go home, right?

And when Steve finally drifted off, he heard something almost sounded like, "I love you, too."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie angsty august #sionewrites

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m1d-45 · 1 year

Text

dead leaves

summary: the creator is meant to be worshipped and praised, exalted to the highest of high. so… what went wrong?

word count: 1.2k

-> warnings: mentions of blood, you die multiple times, bitter(?) ending, spoilers for xiao lore (but it’s not said to be xiao specifically so technically you could read and just not know it’s him but now that i’ve said that you know it’s him so-)

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me

< masterlist > || next >

it wasn’t meant to happen like this.

it was never to occur at all, in fairness, but like this?

the clouds parted to make way for a single glitering star, shining a white hot gold. the whole world turned, stopped and stared in awe, every leaf on every stalk bearing witness to the one they called god.

it wasn’t supposed to be like this. the golden shine poured through the tall windows of a palace meant for you, the heretic in a crown ordering your people to betray you. their hands shook where their followers could not see—perhaps even they were aware of why the trees were rejoicing.

you, blessed you, torn from your home by the divinity in your blood, picking yourself up from sand with barely a vague memory of your location. walk, climb, walk again, and that’s where you learned how to swim, led on by the crumbling stone of barbatos’ statue. the squirrels chittered and the hilichurls retreated, not wanting to frighten you, bandaged hands seeking shields and clubs to keep busy instead.

mondstat is the nation of anemo. happy and bustling, merchants calling across courtyards, adventurers waking with the sun to continue their trade. a cool breeze welcomed you, tugging you along a stone bridge, the winds quiet.

so quiet, in fact, that the archon stirred from his slumber early, reaching for his bow.

you never even made it to the city gates. the doves on the bridge hopped closer as you approached, the knights on duty watching how eagerly they pressed themselves against you. a nod, a twist, a chain of knights leading up to the headquarters, all set on edge the moment the acting grandmaster cleared them to engage.

the first casualty was a bird. it had flung itself into the air, halting the arrow in its tracks, drawing your attention to the man standing atop the city wall. another bird died before you understood his crime.

leaves dappled the ground in shades of green, warm light falling on you as you ran. you didn’t know where you were going, really, and why would you? who had a contingency plan for when everyone they loved turned away? the river tumbled over smoothed rocks, the bright beacon of the statue of the seven pleading for forgiveness even as it’s archon wanted you dead.

mondstat was the city of freedom. could it still be called that when you bled out before you could reach the border?

you couldn’t die. literally, you couldn’t. ley lines converged where you were crossed, absorbing the dissipating flakes of your physical body. the earth hummed beneath the anemo archon’s feet as he watched divine blue blood be sucked up and swept away. was it a hallucination? how would he know?

elemental energy coursed through the earth, sprouting again at the geo through which it bled, releasing the holy light it carried and supplementing with its own. within the hour your eyes opened again, unsure whether to pray it was a dream or wonder which god could hear you.

liyue, nation of geo. the stone hummed beneath your feet, though you didn’t walk toward the city. you’d learned your lesson fast, and a spear to the gut would certainly take longer to kill than an arrow to the neck. not that it mattered, of course—the adepti are too in tune with the land to not have noticed your arrival.

as it turned out a spear does hurt more, which you learned when you found it sprouting from your stomach in the split second before the pain hit. bright jade stained blue, betrayal glimpsed in the dying eyes of the one alatus once called his savior.

and it began anew.

teyvat bubbled with anger, torn between enacting vengeance on those that hurt its maker and protecting you. you were taken to places of shelter, but people learned to follow where nature raged loudest. even if they didn’t, if storms kicked up in false alarm to draw them away, intuition toward their creator was sewn into the hems of every living creature. hilichurls could only hold up for so long, and the millelith were used to dealing with vishaps. the dense forests of sumeru were memorized by the most vigilant forest watcher, the consecrated beasts in the desert too big to keep up with the agility of the general mahamatra.

how cruel for you to die like this, at the hands of the ones you should have been able to trust. how cruel for you to die at all, stabbed in the back by those who should have worshipped you.

the one on your throne was tolerated, just barely so, rationalized as the people needing an idol to follow in your continued absence. but now you were here, now they had no reason to be, and visions began to go haywire whenever they entered the throne room. boars outran hunters, trees tangling over boots as nature wrought vengeance on behalf of its god.

you were everything.

every scholar sought to understood your world further, your spirit found in every star in the sky. to study the world was to study you, how every string was woven into the universe. when you looked to the earth the soil said hello, the trees bowing before their creator, and yet your most beloved artwork was the one that hated you the most. was it hubristic to think a mortal could truly kill a god, or pathetic that they believed the fraud so quickly? they didn’t have elemental energy buzzing at their fingertips, they didn’t have the respect of the world, only commanding people, those easily swayed by a similar face and lucky coincidences. they were nothing like you, you who held galaxies in your blood, you who created the sky and the seas and the creatures within, who created everything. who was everything.

…and now you were nothing. lost in the ley lines that frantically searched for a place to host your body, outrunning the hunt for the god of all. nothing, half conscious in the heart of the earth, within a cave that had cracked open for this very purpose. hidden, the entrance sealed by stone itself, only allowing in slimes that helped sustain you. how cruel, the skies wept, torrents of rain falling in punishment. the fraud barely left the palace anymore, which was only standing thanks to reinforcement from the geo archon. were it not for their lie, they would be dead a thousand times over, killed in every way you had.

but they were in the palace, hidden where the world could not reach. so stone cradled your body, carefully ensuring you still continued to breathe, leylines redirecting to offer energy. not awake, not asleep, stuck in a stasis while hell raged around you.

it’s alright. teyvat would have its revenge eventually. lightning would find its way into the palace, someone would bring something carrying elemental energy into the throne room, something. the fake would die and you would be born anew from the earth, weak and tired but alive, most importantly.

anemo brushes off dust that begins to settle in your clothes, hydro doing its best to soothe the cracks on your lips. geo rolls you over so you don’t bruise, dendro adjusting its net of vines to keep you stable.

eventually…

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inbarfink · 1 year

Text

Part of Fionna’s frustrations with Mundanewold were subconscious longings for her old life of magical adventure, but a lot of her problems tied more into deeply-rooted issues of monotony and a feeling like she can't do anything to change her lot in life and like her actions don’t matter.

And it does seem like Fionna and Friends’ lives have been kinda Stuck in a Rut - especially when you compare the way their lives parallel and diverge from their Mainworld counterparts. Most of the differences are... rather than just different choices diverging into different arcs - it’s the same arc, but the Fionnaworld characters are just stuck behind.

Fionna is still reeling from the breakup with DJ Flame and only met Hunter at the very day our story starts. Marshall Lee has more Unresolved Issues with his mom compared to Marceline and her dad. He and Gumball haven’t even met yet. Not to mention the Mundaneworld-specific problems like Fionna being unable to hold a steady job or Gary eternally spinning his wheels about opening his own bakery.

Fionna thought she wanted a world of magic, but while the added bits of strangeness and whimsy to Fionnaworld by the end of the show are certainly a cool fun bonus (and Cake is surely thankful to have the ability to freely think and speak her mind and stretch) - what Fionna and friends were really missing was a world where their actions matter, where things change, where they are real.

And especially important for Fionna and Cake to admit it, because handling the fact their actions have consequences has been a huge part of both of their character arcs. For Cake it was all about getting used to the fact that her newfound human-like sapience means being measured against human-like morality. For Fionna it's about not comparing everything in her life to video games and thinking through her actions at least a little bit.

Consequences are the thing Fionna and Cake struggled with the most, but it was what they were missing all along.

Now this seems to be, like, an actual metaphysical thing. I mean, the show hasn’t gone super into detail of how Fionnaworld worked but it does seem like Prismo’s stories had an active role in moving the events of the World forwards, possibly using the same event-manipulating-Magic that make sure his Wishes have that Obligatory Ironic Twists?

And once Ice King turned back to Simon, Prismo lost all ability to observe or create stories for Fionnaworld. And what happens to characters of a story once the writer can’t access their external hard-drive anymore? They just sorta get stuck. Moving their own lives forwards without Prismo’s stories is just a lot harder.

And if there is some sort of force in control behind the scenes of Fionnaworld at the start of the series, it’s only Simon’s subconscious - a fact F&C alludes to numerous times

And at the start of the show, how was Simon’s feeling about his own life?

In addition to Simon’s longing and memories for the pre-War world shaping the exact form of Fionna’s nonmagical world, perhaps his feelings of ennui and depression and helplessness have also subtly ‘infected’ this world?

It is perhaps not a coincidence that Marshall Lee and Gary Prince’s storyline only starts moving forwards after Simon embarks on the adventure and starts climbing out of his mental rock bottom. When things seem to move forwards for him as well.

As such, ‘Canonizing’ Fionnaworld solves more of Fionna’s problems much more than simply making it as magical as Ooo but keeping it as a tiny hidden bubble in someone's dome. It ensures the World’s inhabitants’ free will and agency and ability to enact change on the status quo with no need for Prismo’s stories or being dependent on the still-kinda-shaky mental health of Simon Petrikov. Thus giving them a world where everything matters and things can always change.

But also there's a psychological element for the Fionnaworld protagonists. You know, the reason why Fionna is stuck in her rut is because she’s too impulsive and careless. Gary is too perfectionist. Marshall never had someone who would stand up to him against his mom.

Fionna’s whole arc in the show is about learning to be more thoughtful and careful and considerate through her Multiverse Adventure. While Gary and Marshall Lee find release from the thing holding them back within Fionnaworld, with each other.

‘Canonizing’ Fionnaworld is like... half actively altering their world into a ‘real’ one where change is possible, or at least easier - and half about an affirmation that their world was always real because change is about them outgrowing their personal issues (and also, y’know, about protecting their universe from the spiteful Beetle Cop).

And with how Fionna used to feel ‘trapped’ in the City, with nowhere to go and nothing to do - there is another change in Fionnaworld as a result of ‘canonization’ that feels very notable.

I’m not entirely sure, but from Scarab's dialogue it seems likely that becoming a ‘real’ authorized universe just kinda manifested a whole planet and universe beyond the borders of the small existing Fionnaworld. Although I guess it's also possible that the process of repairing the existing city they found a way to expand it gradually - maybe it doesn’t matter as much as the fact that either way, Fionna’s horizons have been literally expanded.

So you know, if she ever gets that thirst for adventure again... she actually has a Whole New World to travel and explore, it might not have (a lot of) magic but... she already heard Simon's stories of his adventures in a similar low-Magic world. It's a totally viable outlet for her.

What Fionna really needed to find the joy in her life is to be Real - to know that her actions have consequences for ill and for good. Because sometimes an adventure looks like saving a Prince of candy from an evil Ice Witch, or going on a multiverse journey to uncover a cursed Magic Crown… but it can also look like backpacking through Europe or campaigning against your evil landlady.

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ilongfor-the-arts · 10 months

Text

Tea and Music

Pairing: Marquis de Gramont x fem! Reader

Warnings: smut!, language, mild begging, choking, unprotected sex, use of “good girl”

Summary: Part two of Poetry in Motion! These are the events that happen after Marquis meets our ballerina reader.

Word Count: 6.7k

Read Part one HERE!!!

Taglist: @jiawalker

The limo crushed the small stones under its tires as it drove along the white gravel path. The entire estate was completely covered in trees and green once we passed through the golden gates. I couldn't see the sides of the gate from the car, so I assumed his estate extended for miles.

Not a blade of grass was out of place.

I would have flirted with Vincent sooner if I had known he was concealing a mansion.

Our conversation two nights ago was extremely straightforward. He introduced himself, and I asked him one question before he insisted on speaking with me in person.

His address was on a street I'd never heard of before. I thought that perhaps it was in the Paris slums. His fancy suits and elegant demeanor were just a ruse to convince people he was wealthy.

But, alas, he lives in a mansion. Who would’ve guessed?

As the car approached the large front doors, I tried to hide my surprise. His house was something out of a movie. To take it all in, I had to turn my head completely left and right. It possessed at least three levels. It was made of lovely white vintage brick and black shingles. Two poles supported an enormous balcony on opposite sides of the large double front doors.There were dozens of tall arched windows. The architecture was inspired by the French countryside, but it was elevated to the highest level.

It appeared vintage and loved, but not worn.

“Alright madame, we are here.”

My trance was broken by the posh driver.

“Oh, yes.”

He opened the door for me, offering his hand to ensure that I would not be inconvenienced in the slightest.

I could grow accustomed to this type of treatment.

I hoisted myself up by grasping his smooth palm.

“Have a pleasant visit, madame.”

He spoke with a classy accent. His elegance, however, couldn't compete with Vincent's. The elderly driver jumped back into the driver's seat and began bustling away, rocks crunching beneath the tires.

I cocked my head upwards, hesitant. I could feel nerves brewing within my stomach. The butterflies were flying free. I took a deep breath, steadying my mind.

I honed in on the rustling of the trees, waiting until the butterflies had completely dissipated.

I couldn’t believe I was about to enter the home of a man I had just met.

I knew his name.

I knew he liked ballet.

I knew where he lived.

And, that’s it.

I climbed the few steps leading to the glass double doors.

Should I knock?

No, he was expecting me.

I gently pushed open the door. The hinges didn't creak in the least.

The doors opened to reveal a large room with white marble floors and a double staircase that swirled to the top floor. The banisters were made of gold, the dark wood walls were covered in expensive-looking paintings, and each room was separated by a large, open arch.

“Hello? I’m here!”

The waves of my voice echoed around the large, nearly empty room. I felt dwarfed by the high ceilings.

“Welcome.”

my heart skipped a beat. Vincent appeared out of nowhere, sauntering through the archway on my left, hands in pockets.

He remained silent, waiting for me to break the tension.

“Uh-Thank you for having me… your house is beautiful.”

As the gravity of the situation became clear, my tone became somewhat shaky. Vincent gave a small smile.

“Thank you very much. I have quite a few estates-“

Woah, woah, woah. A few estates? As in more than one?

“But this one is by far my favorite. It’s lavish, and quiet.”

The trees gently rustled. In the distance, birds chirped. My heart was pounding in my ears.

“See? Nothing. No sounds except those of nature.”

My knees shook. Those two previous statements felt like one big, blatant sexual innuendo. I hoped that sex wasn't the sole reason for having me in this lovely estate that just so happened to have no neighbors for miles.

He leaned against the wooden arch, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his dress pants. Vincent furrowed his brow as he observed my concern.

“Please, don’t be worried. I know I was just given the pleasure of becoming your acquaintance. But, I assure you, I possess a sophisticated character.”

The corners of his mouth turned upwards.

“Come.”

He said this as he stepped away from the arch, motioning for me to follow him into the next room.

“I have something I believe you will enjoy.”

I returned his stare. His beautiful eyes shone with warmth. He seemed to have changed slightly now that I was in his house. He appeared to be... more at ease. Neither his gaze nor his tone indicated any discomfort. He was no longer concerned with maintaining any sort of facade.

I couldn't bring myself to be afraid of him.

I smiled.

“Alright.”

My short heels clacked against the marble. As I strolled past him, I captured his familiar scent and was overcome with nostalgia.

The room I entered was significantly smaller than the one prior. Rather than being adorned in paintings, there was merely one green landscape above the unlit fireplace. One wall was entirely covered in wooden shelves, each of which was crammed to the brim. When I looked closer, I noticed that each section was filled with vinyl records. Some are still wrapped in plastic, while others have clearly been loved for years.

“Oh wow! You have quite the collection!”

I exclaimed as I ran my fingers along the spines of various records. Marquis laughed, amused by my intense interest.

“Oh wow!”

I had to use a surprising amount of force to pry one of the vinyls off the shelf as it was jammed into a completely full rack.

“You have the music from Giselle!”

Vincent strolled over to me, leaning over my shoulder to observe what had captured my attention. It was a record, with a lady and man engaged in dance. The lady wore a blouse and bodice, while the man donned tights and a decorated top.

“Do you enjoy this ballet?”

His hot breath cascaded across my face and neck as he inquired. A shiver ran down my spine as I realized he had placed his frame directly behind mine.

“Yes, I do. I was in it a long time ago. And, ever since it’s been one of my favorites.”

“Ah, you were in it?”

I flipped the vinyl to the back, reading each track and reminiscing.

“Yes, I was Giselle.”

“But of course you were.”

I scoffed, dismissing his high opinions of me.

“It really was not that impressive. It was a small community theater, and it was years ago before I decided to pursue ballet professionally.”

“It makes little difference where you do it. I'm sure you danced as well as someone from the Opéra National de Paris. Your talent is just as visible in a small theater as it is in the world's largest.”

I pushed my finger between two vinyls to create a gap so I could slip the record back into its original position.

“You flatter me.”

Vincent dragged his fingertips along the spines. As he did so, I fixed my attention along his veiny digits, my brain beginning to slip into places it hadn't been in a long time. I closed my eyes, forcing my mind to return to the present. Vincent drew his gaze across the records, studying them and searching for a specific item.

“Ah!”

He discovered what he was looking for.

“Swan Lake, another one of my favorites.”

He pulled it from the shelf and began to study it.

“Tchaikovsky's music is a work of art. He manipulates the instruments, allowing them to move in a poetic manner. It truly is unparalleled.”

He cocked his head to the side, meeting my eyes.

“Do you enjoy this ballet?”

He raised his brows, inviting me to respond. I shuffled towards his hot body, nodding.

“Yes, of course, it’s a classic.”

This cover depicted a woman bending over a lake, with a swan at her side. Beautiful blues were used to paint the entire cover.

“One of my dream roles is the swan queen.”

Vincent's lanky fingers pried the record's cover apart, and he slid the vinyl into his palm.

“One day, that role will be yours. I have no doubt about it.”

He handled the record with extreme grace and care. Despite being a large and rather intimidating man, his touch was featherlight. He opened a small cabinet located in the middle of the shelves with his opposite hand, revealing a beautiful maroon record player.

“And when you appear as the swan queen, it will be your role for the rest of your life. The audience will know instantaneously that no performance before or after yours will compare.”

Vincent placed the needle on the record's edge. The sound of a rich oboe filled the entire room. He placed his hands on his hips and viewed the black circle spin in a circle. The atmosphere became cozy and inviting. Despite being in a secluded mansion in the middle of the French countryside, I felt oddly at home. My heartbeat was regular.

Vincent glanced over his shoulder.

“Do you drink tea?”

He inquired.

I was so enthralled by Vincent's lovely figure that I had to shake myself awake when he spoke.

“Oh! Yes, of course. I love tea.”

Vincent unbuttoned the cuffs of his white dress shirt, rolling his sleeves up to reveal lovely veins dancing across his forearms. I gulped, my face growing hotter as butterflies began to hatch within my lower abdomen.

“Would you care to drink tea with me on the porch as we indulge in this lovely music?”

I nodded, unable to hide the grin playing on the corners of my mouth.

“I would like that very much.”

Vincent brought out a large silver tray, atop which was a lovely china set with pink flowers and gold stems.

“I would expect a wealthy man like you to have help. Rich men don’t make their own tea.”

I said, my tone slightly mocking. Vincent chuckled, plopping down onto the cream colored cushions.

“I don't usually make my own tea. But I specifically requested that we spend the day alone. The bustle of people detracts from the peaceful energy.”

I put a sugar cube in one of the adorable cups and poured tea on top, watching the sugar break and dissolve.

I picked up the saucer and leaned back, my body relaxing against the plush cushions. I had a fantastic view. My back was to the house, leaving the entire garden open for inspection. The green stretched as far as the eye could see, interrupted only by a few healthy trees. The property had a gray gravel path that twisted and turned. At the horizon, the gentle hill of the land met the flawless blue sky.

The scenery was lovely. I wish I knew how to paint.

My hair was tousled by a gentle breeze. The soothing music wafted through the house, reaching my ears as a mere whisper.

“Are you enjoying the view?”

I closed my eyes for a brief moment, savoring the cozy energy as I sipped my tea. The steaming liquid poured down my throat, warming me from within.

“Yes, it’s beautiful.”

I rested the cup in my lap.

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself? I feel like we talk so much about me.”

I said, chuckling slightly.

Vincent sipped his tea while crossing his legs and gazing out at the horizon. His gorgeous side profile was highlighted by the gentle glow of the sun.

“My life is… not very interesting.”

His demeanor had transformed. Instead of being charming, he had become aloof.

“Oh, I’m sure your life is plenty interesting. I mean, come on, this house is ginormous! What do you do?”

Vincent grit his teeth, avoiding the question.

“I made all of my money in real estate.”

He returned my gaze, his fondness restored.

“Oh! That sounds interesting.”

I took another sip of my delicious tea.

“You must’ve gotten extremely lucky.”

He flashed me a tight smile.

“Yes, absolutely. I consider myself extremely fortunate to be where I am now.”

The birds in the distance chirped peacefully, blending with the music to create a cohesive energy that flowed through my being.

“Please, tell me if I am crossing any boundaries with this question.”

I perked up. He had piqued my interest.

“However, you are a very attractive woman. And you are constantly expressing yourself through the arts. I find it difficult to believe you don't have suitors flocking to you at all times.”

I gulped, my gaze fixed on the tea in my lap.

“Well, honestly, it’s difficult to keep a relationship when you’re constantly either in the theater, or searching for your next opportunity. The little free time I have almost never lines up with the free time of others.”

He fixed his gaze on me, listening intently to every word I said. I'd never had a conversation with a man who was so enthralled by me.

“I’ve had relationships, but it's difficult to make them stick. Lately, I’ve kinda given up. It’s stressful, y’know?”

Vincent hummed.

“Yes, I can imagine.”

He sipped his tea one last time, leaning back completely to display his stunning neck. He leaned forward and placed the china cup atop its saucer before assuming his previous position.

"Well, with me, you never have to worry about that, ma chérie." My few important obligations rarely interfere with my personal life. And, if they do, I promise to commit to our relationship and not let it fall through the cracks."

His dedication surprised me. I raised my brows.

“Well, that is very kind of you. I appreciate the reassurance.”

“That is, if pursuing a relationship with me is something that entices you.”

His statement piqued my interest. I suppose I hadn't considered the question, "What are we?" I was definitely interested in pursuing a relationship with him, despite only having become acquainted a few days ago. I felt a genuine connection, and I'd be a fool to pass up this opportunity.

Also, the reality that he was filthy rich drew me to him.

I finished the sweet tea, placing it on the black wire coffee table.

“Yes, I believe I would be interested in that.”

I gave him a genuine smile, which he returned.

“Good, I am glad to hear that.”

He folded his hands and tucked them into his lap, his gaze following. He was deep in thought, as if caught between reality and his thoughts. Vincent came to after what seemed like an eternity. He returned his gaze to mine. His attention had been drawn to a new emotion. He was looking at me with calculating eyes, as if he was carefully pondering what to say next.

This was unusual for him, as he always seemed to know exactly what to say.

“I don’t mean to sound creepy when I say this, but I have been admiring you for a while.”

To be honest, I didn't mind. And I didn't think he was creepy at all for expressing his admiration for me.

“In all honesty, I’m flattered. The way I see it, I wouldn’t put myself on the stage if I was afraid of extreme admiration. I mean, that is kind of the goal of a performer. Y’know, to make people fall in love with the performance.”

Vincent nodded, his smile widening. He was pleased with my response.

“I recall seeing you perform for the first time. It was about two years ago, in Coppélia. You played a minor role, but your beauty captivated me, and the more I sought you out, the more I fell in love.”

There was something sensual about the thought of Vincent admiring me from afar for years. It all seemed so forbidden, him watching me from a box, carefully calculating the best time to ask me out.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t you ask me out sooner?”

Vincent shrugged.

“I assumed you were in a relationship. I tried to forget about you, but you were always on my mind. Then I didn't see you at the Opéra national de Paris for a year. My job was particularly demanding at that time. It was best if I concentrated solely on that. So I didn't go looking for you. I assumed that chapter of my life had come to an end. Then I notice you're performing in La Bayadère. And I knew that whatever force governs our universe had given me the opportunity to become your acquaintance.”

I couldn’t stop my face from breaking into a grin. I’ll admit, it felt insanely good to be admired by someone.

“Are you a nostalgic person?”

Yes, extremely.

“Yes, I am.”

“Ah!”

He exclaimed, rising to his feet.

“In that case, I have one more thing I think you would like to see.”

I followed him through the house. If I didn’t have him, I would undoubtedly be lost. Each lavish hallway felt as if it extended for miles. I followed, and followed, and followed. Until eventually we reached a pair of black double doors. They were covered in beautiful flower designs. Vincent turned the golden knobs, pushing the doors open to reveal… a bedroom?

Wow.

It was a nice bedroom, to be sure. The floors were tan wood, and the walls were a dark brown color. A large, black chandelier hung from the ceiling with an expensive crystal thread. The bedframe, curtains, and dresser with a large mirror all looked like they were plucked from the queen's bedroom.

In fact, the whole place felt like it belonged to a king. The gold accents, intricate details, and visibly expensive fabrics all gave me the impression that I was in Buckingham Palace.

Vincent headed over to his dresser, which was located on the opposite side of the room as the bed. He began rummaging through various objects, searching for something.

“Ah! Here it is! I knew I kept it!”

He gave me... a leaflet? No, it's a program. It was the program from my first performance ever at the Opera Nacional de Paris, Coppélia. My eyes shot open.

“Oh my God! I can’t believe you kept this!”

I flipped through it, reading the names and contemplating all the wonderful people I'd had the pleasure of working with.

“Of course I kept it.”

I raised my eyes to him. He smiled, pleased that I had found enjoyment in this little bit of nostalgia.

“Um-”

I began.

“I-I don’t mean to take your memories from you.”

I said with a small laugh.

“But, would you mind if I kept this?”

“But of course! There is no need for me to keep a silly little booklet now that I have had the pleasure of meeting the object of my affection.”

We shared a moment of peaceful, happy silence.

“Besides, if it makes you happy, I'll gladly give it to you. We've decided to pursue a relationship. So, it is my responsibility to do everything in my power to please you.”

His gaze darted to my lips before returning to my eyes, implying something taboo.

His eyes grew dark. My posture became stiff. Vincent took a large step towards me, and I had to tilt my head almost completely backwards to look him in the eyes.

I was hit with a wave of déjà vu. I was no longer on the streets of Paris, but rather in Vincent's bedroom. This time, there was nothing preventing us from delving head first into our desires.

He cupped my cheek, running his calloused thumb over my cheekbone. My breath caught in my throat. My lower abdomen was in knots, more from anticipation than from nerves. There wasn't much that could happen on the dark streets of Paris. But suddenly everything was possible and within reach. All I had to do was reach out and grab them.

“The relationships you’ve been in… have any of them had the pleasure of…”

His voice trailed off, beckoning me to finish the thought.

I gulped, a lump forming in my throat.

“No.”

My voice quivered as I felt overpowered by his pressing gaze.

Vincent tutted crispy.

“Pity.”

He stated, his voice lowering to a sensuous whisper. I envisioned him whispering sweet nothings into my ear while thrusting mercilessly into my tight cunt.

My stomach flipped.

My knees shook.

All of the blood in my body rushed to my core.

Wetness began to pool in my panties.

I adjusted my weight uncomfortably, anticipating Vincent's next move.

He leaned forward, his lips inches away from mine. I desperately wanted to break the tension by pressing my mouth to his, thereby beginning the downward spiral of pleasure. However, my train of thought was derailed when I felt Vincent’s opposite hand glide up my thigh.

I squeezed my eyes shut, sighing in pleasure as his digits swiftly located my clothed clit. He tenderly massaged my sensitive bud. The subtle sensation was utterly euphoric. My head bowed forward, my hands anxiously clutching his white dress shirt.

Vincent jerked my head upwards, forcing my misty eyes to lock with his lust blown pupils.

“You’re already so wet, ma chérie. And I have barely even touched you.”

His velvety accent became 10 times more seductive now that it had fallen an octave.

“Oh, it will be so wonderful to watch you come undone.”

He pressed his plush lips to my jugular, applying gentle kisses to my neck as he continued to draw figure eights onto my clothed clit. I threw my arms around his neck, hanging onto his strong frame as my knees threatened to give out.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to bury my face between your thighs and taste your sweet little cunt.”

I couldn’t handle the erotic tone combined with the featherlight touches to my clit. It was far too much for my touch starved body to handle. needed something. I was ravenous for his mouth, his fingers, his cock. I wanted so badly to be destroyed by him, to be given such pleasure that I fear coming back to reality.

“Vincent.”

I said between heavy breaths.

“Yes ma chérie?”

My jaw hung upon, mouth unable to form coherent sentences.

“P-Please. I need you-I need you so bad.”

Vincent drew back, his lips slamming into mine. Our mouths matched like puzzle pieces. We were so glorious together that I swear I could hear angels singing in perfect harmony.

“What would you like me to do to you ma belle, hm?”

He said in between fiery kisses.

“Make me cum, Vincent, please.”

His tongue slid into my mouth, giving me a fleeting taste of his passion before he quickly yanked it back. I was flustered. Our connection had been severed, and I was unsure as to why.

Vincent grasped my chin, forcing me to keep my head still.

His hair was struggling to remain neat. The single, dangling strand was a great metaphor for his once well-kept demeanor now crumbling before my eyes.

“Beg. Beg me to fuck you. Beg me to make you cum.”

He demanded.

Mt jaw quivered. His hand had retreated from my core and now lay atop the swell of my hip.

“P-Please Vincent. I need you. I need you so bad.”

Vincent narrowed his eyes disapprovingly.

“Oh, ma chérie, I know you can do better than that.”

He placed his lips to mine, swiftly reigniting the flame before suffocating it once more.

“Be my good girl and beg.”

I locked gazes with Vincent, feeling his sexual energy course through my body in waves.

“Please-“

I began, my desire somewhat strangling the words within my throat.

“Please Vincent… Please, I need you to make me cum.”

I brought my palms to his chest, attempting to quickly unbutton his dress shirt. Unfortunately, my hands were far too jittery and the buttons were far too small for me to make any significant progress.

“What exactly do you want ma belle, hm? Tell me.”

His velvety accent wafted through me whenever he spoke, adding to the wetness that had begun to pool in my panties.

“Please, please. I need you.”

Thankfully, the sexual tension had subsided just enough for me to compose meaningful sentences.

“Please, please, I need you. I need your mouth between my legs. I need-I need you to fuck me. I need your cock so bad. Please, please make me cum it’s all I can think about.”

A devious smirk spread across Vincent’s face.

“Why didn’t you ask me sooner?”

He connected our lips, reigniting the raging fire of desire that burned between us. Vincent hoisted me off the floor, his large hands traveling up my short sundress and resting against my ass. He carried me with ease, his hands gentle but his lips aggressive.

Vincent tossed me onto the bed with little regard for tenderness. However, I was barely impacted by the blow, as the mattress quickly suppressed and conformed to my physique.

I lay, my gaze fixed upwards towards Vincent’s lanky frame. The dim yet sensual lights foregrounded the sharp curvatures of his face. His long digits located his top button and he began to leisurely undo his shirt without breaking eye contact.

Suddenly, I became aware that my dress had ridden up my thighs, exposing my evident desire. I grasped the hem, pushing it downwards in a futile attempt to conceal my yearning. Vincent ceased his movements, crawling over the end of the bedframe with haste.

His hand wrapped around my wrist, pinning my hand above my head.

My eyes darted upwards, the breath hitching in my throat as I perceived his close proximity. Vincent’s previously quintessential appearance was slowly dissolving. A few strands of hair had broken loose from their original location and were now dangling aimlessly above his brow. Furthermore, his shirt was halfway undone, exposing his prominent collarbone and somewhat highlighting his toned chest.

“Don’t cover up for me, ma belle.”

He murmured, his sultry accent sending a wave of desire to my lower abdomen. My cunt throbbed.

“I want nothing more than to see every inch of you.”

Vincent lodged his thigh between my legs, his clothed knee grazing against my hot core. I jolted, a wave of heat coursing through my body. My back arched instinctively, mouth falling open as I involuntarily ground my hips against his thigh in an effort to increase friction.

Unfortunately, he revoked his leg before I was able to procure further pleasure. His free hand followed the soft curve of my side, sending shivers down my spine. My body became cold with anticipation. Goosebumps rose along my skin.

Vincent’s calloused fingertips grazed against my clothed clit. Heat radiated from my wet core as I squeezed my eyes shut. My brow furrowed as he began to slowly draw figure eights onto my clit.

“Ah, you are so wet and I’ve barely even touched you.”

His soft lips connected to my jugular, peppering gentle kisses down my neck.

“I’ve thought about this moment for a long while.”

With his hands required to support his weight as he descended, his powerful clasp released my wrist. I entangled my fingers in his silky hair, further ruining his pristine image.

“Although I pride myself on maintaining a certain level of class, I can’t deny that I’ve often thought about how satisfying it would be to bring you immense pleasure.”

He continued to press his lips against my hot skin, his face now level with my clothed breasts.

Vincent leaned back on his knees. He dragged his eyes up and down my frame, running his tongue across his bottom lip. I suddenly felt small under his gaze.

His tender fingertips located the ball of my ankle, and he hastily removed both of my short heels, tossing them aimlessly to the floor. After he had discarded my shoes, he trailed his large palms upwards, caressing my calves, then my thighs. I watched intently as his veiny hands slipped under the hem of my dress. Vincent hooked a finger in the waistband of my panties, dragging them down my legs at a painfully slow pace.

Once I was fully exposed, he assumed a position between my legs. Thankfully, the bed was grand enough for him to lay comfortably.

All the blood in my body had rushed to my core, and I could feel my heartbeat throbbing vehemently within my lower abdomen.

Vincent trailed his moist lips along my inner thigh, gazing up at me devilishly through his lashes as he did so. He was well aware that his teasing behavior was propelling me into a state of lust filled desperation.

When he established that he had prolonged my suffering enough, he hastily buried his face between my thighs. I gasped, throwing my head back onto the opulent pillows. My thighs instinctively clenched around his head, but Vincent’s strong hands pulled my legs apart to free himself.

He flattened his tongue against my clit, taking his time to draw out his movements so as to not supply me with an orgasm too hastily. He was thoroughly enjoying the elongation of my pleasure.

After a brief moment of supplying delicate sensations to my clit, I felt the tip of his finger prod at my entrance. I threw my hands upwards, grasping onto the bed frame, my knuckles quickly turning white.

“Oh fuck!”

I exclaimed, grinding my hips against his gorgeous face.

“Vincent-Vincent your mouth feels so good, holy shit.”

I spoke in mangled cries, not caring to keep my voice down. After all, there was no one around for miles to be bothered by my proclamations.

His middle two fingers pushed into my entrance, thrusting upwards to stimulate my walls.

“You taste wonderful, ma belle.”

He uttered, continuing to fuck me with his fingers throguhout the duration of his praise. Vincent located my g spot. My nails dug into the bedframe, undoubtedly leaving prominent scratches. He took note of my non verbal cues.

Vincent increased the intensity of his fingers. Quickly, the coil of pleasure began to tighten within my lower abdomen. I bucked my hips against his face, but Vincent quickly stifled my movements by pressing my hips into the mattress.

“Are you close?”

He murmured against my clit. The gentle vibrations set my nerves ablaze with white hot desire.

“Yeah, yeah I’m so close.”

I mumbled, my arms beginning to tremble as I squeezed my eyes shut. I felt my orgasm begin to seep into the corners of my brain.

Vincent’s long digits expertly located my g spot with every thrust.

His warm mouth continued to duck and stimulate my swollen bundle of nerves.

The erotic sounds of his fingers fucking my cunt reverberated loudly throguhout the predominantly empty bedroom.

“Then cum for me, ma chérie.”

His endearing words proved to be the last necessary step in reaching my release. The tension that had built within my stomach exploded as I came gloriously all over his face. My back felt as though it had been rammed into a solid brick wall.

My chest heaved, and I found it arduous to supply my lungs with sufficient oxygen.

My eyelids began to flutter open as the movements of both his tongue and fingers slowed. When he removed his digits and mouth, I was overcome with a glorious sensation of complete satisfaction. Both my mind and body succumbed to bliss. I had never before experienced such an absence of disquiet.

Vincent climbed over me, his torso now bare.

I cracked a small grin, my palms flattening against the expanse of his soft chest. His lips shone with my arousal. I trailed my fingertips slowly downwards, halting when I reached his thick leather belt. I began to undo the buckle, however, Vincent caught wind of my intentions. With one hand, he engulfed both of my wrists, pinning them above my head. I gasped.

“Oh, no, not now.”

His gentle lips tenderly kissed the soft divot behind my ear. I took a deep breath, the scent of his pricey, heavy fragrance clouding my mind.

“I have waited far too long for this moment. It would be foolish of me to allow you to furnish pleasure when my desire has been consuming me for years.”

Vincent moved off of me and stood to remove the remainder of his clothes. With a pleasurable whoosh, he pulled his belt from the loops of his formal pants. Subsequently, he removed his shoes and allowed his trousers to gather about his ankles.

He met my stare, the mellow hue of the faint overhead lights collecting within his green irises.

“You look beautiful.”

Once again, the heat from my body began to travel downwards.

Vincent’s boxers were the final article of clothing to be removed. I gulped audibly, as his sizable cock was now standing fully erect.

Holy shit, I thought to myself.

He possessed one of the most winsome cock I had ever laid eyes on. I clenched my thighs together, my cunt eagerly clenching around nothing.

When he had finished undressing, he climbed back over me and our lips met once again. I melted into the kiss, exhaling sensually as I sunk into the plush mattress. Vincent’s hand grasped the hem of my dress, tugging it upwards until I was forced to raise my arms.

Thankfully, the supportive nature of the outfit allowed me to function in the absence of a bra. As a result, my entire body was now fully exposed for Vincent’s piercing gaze.

He discarded the dress and dropped his hips suggestively until his prominent erection pressed against my lower stomach.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, beckoning him to progress further. Vincent shuffled his hips, tip now dangerously close to my aching cunt. But, before he slipped inside of me, he raised a free hand and tenderly brushed a few unruly strands of hair from my damp forehead.

“If you wish to stop at any moment, merely apprise me and I shall cease.”

I gave him a nod, throwing my arms around his neck to provide an anchor. Vincent pressed his lips to my neck, applying a few gentle kisses before sliding his cock into my wet cunt.

My walls stretched, hastily conforming to his rather large girth. My back arched into his solid torso. I inhaled sharply as he buried the entirety of his length deep within me.

“Are you alright, ma chérie?”

His body stilled. I groaned in mild frustration.

“Y-yeah. I’m more than alright. P-please just fuck me already. I-I need you so bad.”

Vincent pulled back. His lips were plush. His hair was disheveled. His cheeks were a bright shade of pink.

His disarranged appearance was a stark contrast to the previously sophisticated man I had met at the start of this afternoon. However, I do consider the duality of man to be a topic of the utmost enticement. There is something captivating about the notion of commencing a relationship with someone who has a secret side that solely you have the pleasure of becoming acquainted with.

Without further words, Vincent began to roll his hips. The slight pain of his cock quickly dissipated to create room for immense pleasure.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head.

“Does that feel good? Hm?”

He spoke with a slight vocal fry. The raspiness of his tone elicited a visceral reaction. I dragged my nails along his smooth back, undoubtedly breaking skin.

He grumbled deep within his chest.

When I didn’t answer, Vincent pulled his face back, blown pupils meeting mine. I gazed at him through half lidded eyes. I found it difficult to ignite passionate eye contact when I was presented with the distraction of his cock expertly grazing against my g spot with every fervent jerk of his hips.

He wrapped a large hand around my neck. My pulse rose to the top of my skin as black spots began to cloud my vision.

“Come on, ma belle, be my good girl. Tell me how good I make you feel.”

I exhaled a shuddering breath.

“F-fuck… you feel so good inside me Vincent.”

I gulped.

“Y-your cock feels so good.”

Vincent’s skin began to sheen with a thin layer of perspiration. The unruly strands of brown hair deepened in color as they stuck to his forehead. I moaned pornographically as the grip on my neck constricted once more. My jaw dropped. The brief lack of oxygen only added to the flurry of incoherent thoughts bouncing around my skull.

“Oh, my, you’re such a good girl for me.”

He gulped, a soft sigh escaping his swollen lips.

“You’re taking me so well.”

The erotic words combined with his smooth accent contributed to the tightening of my lower abdomen.

I was close, dangerously close.

I could feel my body reaching the edge, and I would soon fall into a state of euphoria.

Vincent’s adjusted his hips ever so slightly, his tip now reaching deeper than before.

I instinctively turned my head away. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes as I buried my face into the bed. My brow furrowed. My eyes squeezed shut as I anticipated my release.

Vincent utilized his thumb to reposition my face.

“No, don’t look away. Be my good girl and look me in the eyes.”

I forced my eyelids open, meeting his piercing stare as ever so slightly increased the frequency of his thrusts. Every instinct beckoned me to throw my head back, but I fought the desire. And, I instead kept my eyes fixated on Vincent’s blown pupils that had almost entirely consumed his irises.

“I want to watch you. I want to see your face as you cum all over my cock.”

I gave him a slight nod, indicating that I could hear while trapped in my lustful stupor.

His hand traveled downwards, gently caressing my curves before reaching my swollen clit. Vincent applied gentle pressure, and, with that, I let go.

I kept my eyes fixated on him, allowing my face to contort as it pleased.

Vincent groaned loudly, his cum coating my walls.

He continued to fuck me throguh my orgasm. His movements gradually slowed as the fog of euphoria began to dissipate. My chest rose and collapsed with fervor.

When I deemed it safe to break eye contact, I allowed my eyelids to flutter shut. Suddenly, I became aware of the gravitational pull the bed exerted on my body.

Jesus, I was exhausted.

Vincent removed his cock from my core. However, he remained atop me, tenderly pushing my unkempt hair back to create mild uniformity.

“You may stay here, if you’d like, for however long you wish.”

His voice was as it had been prior to our physical encounter.

I giggled, my mouth breaking into a slight smile.

“Your house is magnificent.”

I met his gaze, his eyes now possessing a tender quality.

“I don’t know if I ever want to leave.”

I said with a scoff.

A smirk played on the corner of his lips.

“Then don’t, stay here for as long as your heart desires.”

#marquis de gramont x reader #marquis x reader #marquis de gramont #john wick series #john wick smut #john wick movies #john wick imagine #john wick fanfic #john wick #john wick 4 #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard smut #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skargard #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard icons

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pursuitseternal · 9 months

Text

“The Third Day” in “Antics of the Newly Ascended:” just sweet smut, rough smut, and Batstarion 🦇🔥

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 2K 🔥smut

Thank you @zyana-wyvern for the sexy staring screenshot 💞

Summary: A night spent drinking in the tavern below lands you back in your room, belly aching from the wine, other part of you aching for… him. Only you find yourself alone, alone except for a small presence that might just be watching you enjoying your alone time.

CW: female masturbation, fingering, fluffy bat forms, More Chin Scritching™️, getting folded in half and f*cked senseless.

First day | Second day | Ao3 link

🦇🔥🦇🔥🦇🔥🦇🔥🦇🔥🦇🔥🦇🔥🦇🔥🦇

Your head is swimming, your feet stumbling as you climb back up the stairs to your rooms at the Elfsong. You tug at your dress, breathing heavy, wine-laden pants as you poke your head into the common rooms. “Is he… hiccup… back yet?”

“His lordship?” Shadowheart rolls her eyes. “Yes, he’s… somewhere, though he was not quite so equally in his cups as you are, it seems.”

She crosses her arms and throws you that sharp look of judgment.

But your belly is too light with wine to really care. You wave, slurring a goodnight, heading back to your rooms. Of course, it had been a quiet night. One more night of drinking down in the tavern before another grueling day of fighting and gathering allies and being heroes. The wine had been sweet, not quite the same as before you were turned, but still good to your tongue. And now, you had a silly smile on your face and a warmth in your belly only he could satisfy. You push the door open to your private room, craving that tingle of his powerful presence. But you find it dark.

Empty.

But you can feel, sense him, close by. You most likely don’t have long to wait, you think to yourself, settling on the edge of the bed, starting to slink your gown from your shoulders. You shimmy it off, letting your skin finally breathe from under all that fine silk.

Your whole body thrums, just hunger and need. A drive to be sated and filled. Where could he be… you bite your lip, feeling your arousal only growing stronger with his scent in the room now. This must be what it is to be in heat for beasts, to have a need to be fucked only quenched with fulfillment. If only he was here…

Eyes closing, your hand brushes up your own thigh, body shaking as you slide yourself back into the bed. Hands wandering over your belly, your thighs, you let yourself explore this new form. It’s so similar, perhaps brawnier, lean and wiry just like him. To your own touch, your flesh isn’t cold, hard and defined, but not chilling or undead.

Yet, you are equally wet between your thighs at the thought of waiting for his return. What’s the harm, you wonder, letting a single finger reach between your folds to sweep that slick over your clit and rub.

Lighting races down your spine, your body shivers so hard, your fang bites your lower lip in its grasp.

You can smell him, feel his presence near. Close, but not close enough. Drawing near but still not with you. Not inside you. The thought alone makes you tremble more, imagining that slide of his cock inside you, filling you with the memory of its delicious drag and the ghost of its pressure.

A panting moan rises from between your grit fangs. What’s the harm… you’re alone after all.

Heat quickly wraps at the base of your spine, tremors rocking your insides slowly, fire flooding your belly.

So close, so close now. You chase your orgasm with reckless abandon, barely feeling the rush of beating air above you, hardly hearing the woosh of leather wings flapping near your face.

“My, my,” his voice caresses in your ear, right in your ear. Lips rubbing against its curves. “Who knew you had so much arousal within you tonight…”

You shudder at his voice, almost still from the sensation of just his breath, his sound.

“Oh, don’t you dare stop on my account, my treasure…” you feel him settle on the bed beside you, one arm reaching over your shoulders, as your eyes fly open to look into his face.

Hunger—unabashed, unsatisfied hunger incarnate.

“Where…?”

The question doesn’t leave your mouth, not when he softly claps a palm over it. “Ah, ah,” he chides you, “I would feel just awful if you didn’t finish what you started before I so rudely joined you…”

“Then politely join me, my love,” you whisper against his mind, an easy feat to do while he hangs over you, peering with those dark red eyes.

His lips slide into a deeper smirk, his other hand sweeps quickly to join yours, barely catching your fingers as his fingers dive deep between your walls.

You groan, muffled beneath his palm, your nose working extra to catch your breath. Your body thrums and throbs, his fingers pumping in and out, crooking to catch that spot inside you he alone knows of and worships.

It’s too great, the pressure and the pleasure, and then he slides a third finger inside you.

Crying, you shatter, tears of bliss seep from your eyes as they shut, closed tightly as ecstacy wracks your body. Wave after wave, your orgasm consumes you, his fingers still drawing inside, giving your cunt something wonderful to clench around.

At last, your eyes drift open, meeting his own glassy gaze of desire. He seems flushed, aroused. Eager. As if he has been watching and waiting for…

You look at the ceiling above the bed, catching sight of little scratching claw marks that weren’t there. Your mind recalls that soft beating flutter.

“Astarion,” you whisper, dragging his hand from your mouth first to hold it in your own clasp, “I could have sworn I felt you… smelled you… before you just appeared out of nowhere.”

“Ah,” he purrs, so pleased with himself in that single syllable, “you need a demonstration,” he grins, oozing pride. Before your eyes, a mist swirls as you feel him shrink above you. That bat replaces his form, flapping its wings and flipping in a circle a few times before landing on your belly.

You gasp at the contact. Fuzzy and scratching, little claws and softer spots of fur sending ripples of sensation through you.

Then another burst of mist, and he’s suddenly crushing you. Long legs already spread your knees apart, arms braced on either side of your head. His fangs flash in the dim light, so arrogant and proud of his abilities. “I thought I would give you a bit of a surprise tonight, once you returned. Little did I know my little love would be far too eager to wait for even her dearest little fluffy pet to materialize before getting right… into it.”

You raise a finger, sliding it down the ridge of his pointed ear. Its sensitivity instantly makes him shiver on top of you. Crimson eyes flutter shut, mouth pulled apart in pure arousal. But you keep that touch traveling down the cut of his jaw, drawing to a halt only to scritch under his chin.

You feel his cock twitch on your belly, increasingly more erratic and harder the longer you caress him there.

“I do rather like that, you know,” he offers gently. “Two-hundred years of being touched, and no one… no one touched me like that.”

“That’s because no one got the pleasure of petting the Vampire Ascendant in his remarkable transformed form before,” you grin, your fingers raising to continue their gentle scratches in his soft and unruly locks.

“Mmm I do like the sound of that, my treasure,” he purrs, leaning against your touch, eyes still closed to savor the sweet little caresses you make across his skin, through his hair. “Perhaps I could return the favor? Perhaps you have a little itch that needs… scratching?”

“Gods,” you mewl, bucking your hips for any more friction in your folds. He only chuckles as you do it again, your fingers clawing into the back of his neck. But he slides from your hold to grab your knees. His hands fold you into yourself, legs draping over his shoulder, opening yourself up wide and plentiful for his taking. A growl in his throat, Astarion sheathes himself inside you in one, quick and brutal thrust.

The noise you make bounces off that bat-scratched ceiling.

“Better?” he taunts above you, hands at the backs of your thighs as he slowly glides in and out. A rough beginning followed by a slow undulation as he takes you.

You can’t even lift your head, can’t catch a full breath with how he has you bent for his pleasure. But it feels so… divine. Every slick thrust squelches as he takes his time. You try to keep your gaze fixed into his, watching how he drinks in the sight of you, tongue licking his lip, muscles of his shoulder and chest clenching as he fights to keep control of himself.

You open your mouth, letting moan after moan pierce the wet-slapping quiet. You want to make him undone by your sounds alone. Holding nothing back, you make little noises of pleasure with each thrust, feeling that control slipping away as he slides into you faster. “So good,” you keen, his rolling hips now slamming into you. “I want more, my love…”

That… that snaps something inside him, nails biting into the soft flesh of your thighs, languorous thrusts turn to pummel after pummel that smack hard at the end of your channel.

You squirm, almost unsure if you can take it, but you can’t think either, hesitation quickly swallowed by the flashing heat of your climax. Your hands clench into the bedding, senseless noises rip from your throat, until you scream his name.

“Just as cute and ferocious, aren’t you?” he growls, pushing his cock through the clenching waves of your climax, his own thighs washed in the gush of your arousal. “Who’s… chittering… now, my pet?”

His words come out stilted, sputtered and forced between his gritted teeth as you feel him hitching. Hips bucking wildly and hard against your ass as he groans. Seed spurts inside you, leaking from your slit so packed with his cock. A few more thrusts and he stills, a slack jawed, satisfied smirk on his full lips. He grins so wide, you stare at his glinting fangs.

“Have I…” you pant, groaning as his hands ease your legs back down to the bedcovers, “…earned my own chin scratches?”

“Maybe…” he purrs back, sliding his body in the bed, pulling yours to fit snugly against his side. “There is a high standard of what warrants such a reward, I’m sure…”

“Not for you,” you tease, running a single finger along his jawline, tapping your fingertip on the prominent point of his nose.

“Yes, but I am Vampire Ascendant. We can’t be giving out my special reward to everyone, now can we?”

Your hand fists, slamming a punch into his shoulder that makes him feign a whine. “Oww,” he dramatically whimpers, his face suddenly twists into that look of feral, untamed lust. “Oh wait, as a mighty vampire lord now, I can also shrug off blows like they’re nothing, you should know that, my consort…”

You move with preternatural speed to climb on top of him, to grip both hands on his chest and smirk down at him. “I want my rewards,” you tease, letting your head wag to show off your chin.

He easily slips his arms from under your hold. Fingers claw around your neck, just enough grip to tighten your breath. He pulls you quick to his conceited grinning lips. Sucking your lips, those warm little licks of his mouth work his magic on your whole body. You feel it through the haze of need he stokes with his kiss, just the barest little tickles of his fingers under your chin.

It warms something inside you, that dexterous touch caressing that secret little soft spot under your chin. And then you feel his kiss sweep to the side of your neck, fangs grazing you with those little razor points. “One rewarding turn deserves another, wouldn’t you agree?” he purrs beneath your ear.

And you nod, the smallest permission taken to its fullest as he bites and drinks.

With one last stroke of his thumb under your chin to thank you.

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funniestpersonalivefr · 3 months

Note

hiii could i get just some really sweet smut with chris 🥺🥺 he deserves all the soft love in the world. big men like him who get gently cared for and fussed over... that's the good stuff

how lucky

THIS IS SO CUTE OH MY GOD. nsfw under the cut, mdni. enjoy some soft sweet sex with chris who loves being fussed over. afab reader, no protection. credit to image owner. not proofread.

chris had returned from europe, you were all over him the moment he stepped through the door. you helped him ditch the coat, taking his heavy bags back to your guys room to unpack later as he took off all of the tactical gear left on him.

perhaps it was paranoia that he kept it on until he was home, it was afterall the only space that felt safe to him. you had quickly found him, your hand grabbed his arm as you led him around the house.

you had led him to the bedroom, getting him to set on the bed.

"i missed you," you say softly as you climb into his lap. he hums as your hands slide up and down his body, feeling up his muscles from under his shirt. he's relaxed in your touch as you continue to run your hands up his body.

he smiles at you as he responds, leaning back on his elbows.

"i missed you too pretty," his hands move up to your waist, calloused fingers rubbing circles on your soft skin. you roll your hips slowly against his groin, his hands grip your waist at the sensation and a low groan slips his lips.

"let me take care of you, please baby," you whisper to him as you grind down again. your hands slip under his shirt pulling it over his head, tossing it to the floor.

your hands move to his broad shoulders as you take in the sight of his bare chest, hair adorned on it with a trail leading all the way down to his groin. you lean down, pressing soft kisses to his lips. your hands hold his face as you kiss all over it, he can't help but let out a slight chuckle.

soon your short soft kisses turn to ones filled with passion, love and lust mixing together as your tongue slips past his lips. still your touch on his body remains gentle. the roll of your hips proves that chris is already hard from your teasing.

your lips move down, a mix of soft loving kisses and passionate lustful ones are trailed down his chest. you can't help but savor the way a moan leaves chris's lips. you pause to rest your head against his pecks, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. it reminds you that he's alive and in front of you.

as you continue down his soft stomach, once hard with abs in his youth, you can't help but pay extra attention to it. chris is practically a mess under your touch at this point just waiting for you to get where he needs you the most.

of course he knows better than to rush you when you're in this mood so he's just left feeling desperate and needy for more. your hands finally start to feel up chris's bulge, his head falling back as you rub your hand over. his pants are a painful barrier but chris can finally feel relieved as you begin to unbutton his jeans.

he's quick to help you get them off, he slips his boxers off with them with how impatient he feels. you smile at the notion as his rock hard cock sticks up in front of your face.

you gather up saliva in your mouth, letting it drool out onto his cock. you hand moves up and down his shaft as you begin putting kisses to the tip of his dick and he whimpers out from under you.

you've made him wait long enough. your lips part, taking chris's cock in your mouth. he's gripping the sheets, groaning as you cheeks hollow taking him all the way. he's not sure how long he can last, he hasn't been touched by you in what felt like forever and he couldn't bare to touch himself. it couldn't compare to your treatment.

you took him so well, it was only a matter of time before he was twitching in your throat on the verge of releasing. however, chris had other plans.

"wait, fuck, wait, i wanna be inside you, shit," chris says, pulling you off of him.

you slip off and chris is quick to get you undressed and under him, his hands spread your legs as his fingers tease your wet hole. chris's large calloused fingers slowly slip in, stretching your cunt as to not hurt you later.

you gasp at his touch, not realizing just how wet you had gotten. you had missed chris so much, longing for his touch. nothing could satisfy you like chris could. no toy could compare to how his huge cock fit in you so perfectly, filling you whole.

chris had gotten you stretched out and you could feel his tip slipping through your folds.

"are you ready?" he asked, chris's gaze focused on you as you nodded eagerly. you could feel him slowly push into you. you pulled him close, nails digging into his back. you were whimpering as his lips pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"you're taking me so well," chris whispers praises, he slowly starts to rock his hips. sex like this was some of chris's favorite, nights where you insisted to take care of him. he couldn't help but wanna take it slow as he took in the sight of you falling apart under him.

he continued to leave soft kisses on your skin in all the places that made you squirm. you had treated him so well, it only felt right he treated you back. he was completely in love with you and the way you constantly insisted on taking care of him.

he was the only one for you and you were the only one for him. moments like this only cemented that notion. his hips worked into you in such a deep and passionate way, it left you completely breathless.

you were already approaching your release with your cunt squeezing chris's cock. you're practically milking him. his hand is on your clit, encouraging you to cum.

you back arches and you moan loudly as you cum, you vision blurring as you reach for him. chris is there, letting you grasp onto him as he hits his own orgasm. his hips are left stuttering into you as he cums inside of you, a low groan leaving his mouth.

soon he collapses on the bed next to you, slipping out of your cunt as he pulls you close. your bodies mold to feel like one as he brushes the hair out of your face.

"thank you," he says, his voice is soft. you can tell he means it by how he looks at you, kissing the palm of your hand.

"you don't have to thank me, chris. you know i love you more than anything," you say back, leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead.

his touch is soft as he soaks in your beauty, lost deep in thought.

"whatcha thinking about, captain?" you ask him, your tone teasing as you use his title for missions. he can't help but chuckle at you before he presses a kiss to your lips.

"just thinking about how lucky i am, i don't know what i did to deserve you," he says against your lips.

#resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #chris redfield #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield x reader smut #chris redfield smut

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specialagentlokitty · 11 months

Text

Elrond x teen!reader - safe with us

Hiii! I haven't been active in so longgg it's painful to think about BUTTT I'm here with like some many ideas for requests!!! Could you maybe write an parental elrond x human child (if it's fem I would appreciate it!) in WICH reader was traveling with their fam but got attacked by orcs or sumting and she was told to run, she either a) stumbled upon a patrol of Rivendell or b) something else that led her to Rivendell and can we see soft elrond with her, better yet soft ELVES with her AWWWWWWWWWWW how CUTEEE (ignoring the whole slaughter part ofc) Like she's basically adopted by all the elves of Rivendell. - @hai-kbai 💜

You had been running for god knows how long, your legs hurt, and you were tired, and hurting from the numerous falls you had taken.

But you felt like you couldn’t stop running, you were scared if you stopped then they would find you, that they would get you as well.

So you kept going, right up until you ran into a small group of what appeared to be maybe guards or warriors.

They all looked at you and you screamed, scrambling to hide between some rocks that you could only just fit between.

You heard some quiet talking, and slowly somebody came over.

“Please do not be scared, we mean you no harm. Are you lost?”

You said nothing, and the elf nodded slightly, rummaging through his bag before holding something out to you.

“Hungry perhaps? it’s good. One small bite will fill you.”

You refused to take the food and he sighed, putting it away as he began to talk to him comrades.

While they were talking, you stayed hidden up until the point you heard a noise that sounded a lot like orcs.

Rushing out from your hiding spot, you ran to the elf and stood in front of him, hiding yourself in the group.

“We must go.”

They all got on their horses and the one you had hid behind helped you on to his horses before climbing on and rushing away.

You didn’t want to go with them, but between orcs and elves, they were the safest option.

They had horses and would be faster.

Exhaustion soon took over you, and you fell asleep.

Of course the elf behind you knew you were asleep, but he made no motion to wake you up, neither did the others.

They just carried on their journey back to Rivendell where the sounds of movement made you wake up.

You snapped your head up and looked around, jumping down from the horse and backing away in fear.

“You appear to have brought a guest.”

“We found her alone and scared.” The man replied.

The other elf nodded.

You carefully studied him, he had a friendly face, with a small smile as he looked at you, and he was wearing the most elegant clothes you had ever seen.

“I am Lord Elrond, of Rivendell. Do you have a name?”

You said nothing.

“You’re scared, I understand. But you needn’t be afraid, we mean you no harm, we wish to help you if you will let us.”

You glanced around, and you turned back to him.

“How about a bath, some food and a clean change of clothing?”

You slowly nodded your head.

So they got everything ready for you, and you bathed in peace, only letting out a small hiss as hot water touched the scratched and cuts in your skin.

When you were done you changed into the elegant Elyan clothing you were given, and began to wonder around.

Bare feet padding along the floor, you looked into other rooms, poking and looking at things as you passed.

“Hello, Lord Elrond has requested you to come have something to eat.”

You turned to face the new elf.

He smiled at you, bowing his head a little.

“I’m Lindir.”

He stood up.

“Will you come?”

You nodded and followed him to a grand dining hall, and he showed you a seat next to Elrond and you looked at the food in front of you.

“Whatever you want to eat, you can.”

You looked at him then back to the food, and you glanced at his plate as he ate his dinner.

He saw you looked and smiled to himself, taking your plate, he replaced it with his own, and set your plate in front of him.

You began to pick at the food he was eating, knowing that if he was eating it then it was fine for you to eat.

Elrond smiled softly at you.

“Do you mind if I have a look at your arm after? That looks rather deep and painful.”

You looked at your arm.

“What happened to it?” He asked.

“I fell…”

He nodded his head.

“I see, well, we all fall sometimes. It is nothing we can’t fix.”

Elrond could tell you had been through a lot, so he never pushed you into telling him what had happened.

They simply made you feel at home, with your own room, food you liked, they had even began to teach you their language and games.

Everybody loved you.

“Be care when you go.” Elrond said.

“I’ll be okay!”

You swatted his hands away and he smiled at you.

“I know, I just worry the young elves forget you are not as strong as they are.”

“I’m strong!” You huffed.

He sighed a little, nodding his head.

“I know, just go have fun. And be safe.”

You smiled at him.

“Thank you.”

With that you ran off, waving to everybody you had passed.

They all knew you by name now, the human who lived with elves.

They loved you, and you were part of Rivendell.

You brought them joy and adventures and just the right amount of mischief to make any boring day a little better.

You were still healing over whatever had happened to your family and Elrond could see that in the nights you didn’t sleep, or the days you wouldn’t talk.

But he hoped maybe you could open yourself to Rivendell as your home and realise you never had to leave

#the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit x you #the hobbit x y/n #Elrond #Elrond x reader #Elrond x you #Elrond imagine

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artificial-transmutations · 9 months

Text

Utopia

The sun was beaming down mercilessly on Trax as he climbed up the dusty rocks of the badlands. It didn't help much that his clothing was torn to rugs after the long journey or that his hands were calloused from the countless hours of climbing and shoving rocks and dirt. Still, the muscular and rugged man did not stop and climbed on, determined to reach the top of the hill. He didn't have too much choice. His water canteen was almost empty, only holding enough liquid for another half a day of hiking.

Trax stopped for a moment to wipe his brow and dry his hands on the very few scraps of clothing that were left from his shirt. Trax tried to control his breathing. His friends would surely have called him crazy, going into the badlands like this: Without preparation, without equipment and alone. Perhaps one or two of them would even have insisted on coming with him, to make sure he wasn't just throwing his life away. His friends really were awesome guys, Trax thought before correcting himself. No, that wasn't right. His friends had been awesome guys. Past tense. Another twinge of sadness darkened Trax' already bad mood. Truth be told, if his friends would still be around, he wouldn't even have considered taking on this crazy journey. But that was in the past. When the raiders on their bikes and trucks attacked Trax' settlement, many of the men, including every damn single one of his friends had been massacred. It had been a blood bath and Trax had only survived because he was out at the time, scavenging the industrial ruins nearby for supplies.

Having been born after the calamity and the subsequent wars, Trax knew fair well that surviving in the central European wasteland was difficult under the best circumstances. Having been heavily decimated by raiders, however, with most of the men dead it was nearly impossible. Most women and children had decided to leave, hoping to find a new place to settle or perhaps to find another settlement, where they might have a chance at a normal life. Not so Trax. Pretty much everyone had heard the story of Utopia. Utopia, the city of legends. Utopia, the safe haven. Grasping at straws, he set out for the badlands, in search of the mythical place.

Sighing, Trax got back to climbing, scaling the rest of the hill a bit more energetic now. After another half an hour, he finally reached the top of the hill, only to be rewarded with a wide view over a valley between the barren mountains. More importantly, though, Trax could hardly believe his eyes. Taking most of the space of the valley was a glass dome surrounded by a massive concrete and metal wall. Under the pristine glass that was reflecting the sunlight like a jewel, Trax could see a city. Not any city, mind you! Trax could see the green of trees and bushes between the high-rising spires, and the glittering of running water. He was able to make out some slight movement under the dome, probably from vehicles or even flying cars, and the air itself had a clean shimmer, almost like he imagined it when he heard the stories as a child.

Trax was mesmerized by the view, but at the same time, he didn't quite believe what he was seeing. He had really done it. He had reached the city of Utopia!

As fast as he could without breaking his legs, Trax scrambled down the hill and towards the impressive fortification. With each step, another thought became more and more prevalent. He had been so focused on finding the city that he had not yet thought of how to get in. From what he knew from the stories, Utopia had been a project of corporations and remnants of governments alike. A safe haven in the post-apocalyptic hellscape the continent had become. Of course, even though there were considerably less people than before the calamity, a single city would never be enough to house all survivors. So, the corporations chose a simple, yet proven concept of controlling who could get in: You had to pay for entry. It was ridiculously expensive, an amount of money Trax could not possibly earn in a hundred lifetimes. Enough to buy a bunch of settlements the size Trax' old home was. Of course, in the settlements, slums really, money didn't have too much meaning anymore. It was used for trading with other settlements, but apart from that, the concept of wealth had mainly meaning in the remains of the big cities. Even there, only a very elite few had been able to buy themselves entry into Utopia.

And now that *he* was here, standing in front of the massive concrete walls, it seemed like a stupid idea anyway. Who was he, a nobody, a mere scavenger, to try and demand entry to the city of dreams?

Well, he had to try. The gate in the concrete wall was massive. At least 20 meters tall and made of sturdy metal. Nobody was there, no guard or anyone really, which was not too surprising: Trax could hardly imagine anyone wanting to stand guard here, in the middle of nowhere, in the searing heat. Inside the huge gate was a smaller door, made from the same sturdy metal, with a computer console next to it. When Trax stepped closer, the terminal lit up. Trax was able to read, a skill that was sometimes necessary when scavenging the industrial ruins. However, he didn't have too much practice, so it took him a moment to decipher the three words on the surprisingly clean display: "Enter Entry Ticket".

Trax cursed. There was nothing else to be read, and even if there were, he would not have had any clue as to what he was supposed to do. He banged his fist against the door, and the sound reverberated off the nearby hills. However, there was no answer. Apparently, the entry in the city was fully automated and without an expensive ticket, there was no way to get in. Climbing up the concrete walls was pretty much impossible, and even if he managed to, he would only stand in front of the mighty glass dome.

Defeated, Trax slumped against the wall. It didn't make sense. He had made it all this way, had seen the city, had touched the very walls and yet, the city was still not within reach.

That's when he noticed another path, almost invisible under layers of dust and dirt. The main gate was well maintained and cleaned, but this path, going along the wall, had clearly not been used in decades. Perhaps there was still a chance to get into the city after all.

Trax followed the path for a few dozen meters before he noticed a faded writing on the concrete. The yellow paint was huge but aged and showed an arrow to the left. Under the arrow, Trax could read the words: "Lottery Winners, This Way".

Lottery winners. Something stirred in Trax' memory. Lottery. Yes, he remembered that part of the story. Of course, after announcing that only the richest of the rich were granted access to the city of dreams, there had been an outrage. Following that, and to soothe the masses, there had been a huge lottery where one thousand souls from all over the country were able to win a place in the city. It was said that whoever won the lottery left for Utopia and never came back - understandably so.

Apparently, the way he was following now was meant for the lottery winners. Trax felt a twinge of hope. Perhaps there was yet another way of getting into the city. It was a faint chance, but it was a chance.

Trax followed the path that was winding around the big walls until it ended in an archway that led down into the foundation of the concrete structure. It was a gaping black hole in the light concrete, but, and that was both surprising and like a miracle to Trax, not barred by a door.

He carefully entered the archway and waited for his vision to adopt to his now darker surroundings. There was enough sunlight coming in through the entry to discern that he was now standing in a long, concrete corridor, tilted a little bit downwards. Trax could vividly imagine a thousand people standing in queue in the broad corridor, but now his steps echoed from the blank wall. After a little while, electric lights flickered to live as he was nearing a fork in the corridor. It split into two, left and right, where the left was adorned with a black figure wearing a skirt, while the right one showed a similar figure wearing pants. The universal signs for male and female, as they were found on old restrooms as well. Without thinking too much about it, Trax turned right and went down the "male" path. After only a few more steps, he passed a heavy metal door, which stood widely into a medium sized room.

The room wasn't well maintained, but it was clear that this was a part of the technological marvels that kept the city running. It was crammed with pipes and cables, tubes and huge towers of technology that Trax couldn't really place. However, everything in here seemed dormant. There were no blinking lights, no beeping sounds or sound of liquids running through the pipes. Dormant, with one exception. In the center of the room, there stood a huge block of machinery, with two notable features. The first was a large screen at about eye level that was dark. The second thing was a hole in the block with a diameter of about 5-6 centimeters in diameter 80 centimeters above the ground, surrounded by a blue plastic ring. This ring was lit by some internal light source and was blinking slowly, as if it was breathing. Curiously, Trax stepped closer.

As he approached the block, two things happened at once. With a faint whirring sound, the machinery in front of him came alive and the display lit up. At the same time, a loud bang sounded from the entrance and the heavy door slammed shut, closing Trax in.

Trax could feel panic rising up but fought it down again quickly. Whatever was happening here was just standard procedure for the lottery winners. There was probably nothing to worry about. Instead, he looked at the screen. In big white flickering letters on green background, it read:

"Welcome Lottery Winner! Please enjoy yourself!"

Trax couldn't make sense of the message, so he took another look around the room. There was another, considerably larger door on the other side of the room, but it was closed shut as well, with no discernable way of opening it. While the room was crammed with technology, the only active thing Trax could see was the central block with the hole and the screen. "Please enjoy yourself!". What was that supposed to mean?

Trax cocked his head and took another long look at the block. The only other notable feature was the hole surrounded by the blue ring, about one leg length from the ground. Trax squatted down and took a closer look at it. The blue ring was still blinking, the hole itself was dark. When Trax looked into it, he could only see blackness. Carefully, he felt it with his finger and was surprised to find a smooth malleable surface that quickly warmed to the touch, not unlike silicon. When he extended his index finger deeper into the hole, he could feel the walls of the hole suddenly starting to move in a slow, wave-like motion.

Trax quickly withdrew his finger and the motion stopped. He cocked his head again. That surely couldn't be right. "Please enjoy yourself!". It couldn't possibly mean...

On the other hand, there were a lot of indicators. The hole in the block was at exactly the right height and had the right diameter. The message could very well be interpreted that way. This was a room designated for male lottery winners. And the doors closed, allowing for some privacy. Trax shook his head. This was crazy. What possible reason could there be that the designers of the city wanted the lottery winners to... jerk off before entering the city?

On the other hand, perhaps it wasn't even too stupid. Getting your rocks off, possibly after a long journey would help the newcomers to relax and see things calmer and more rational. It was unusual, sure, but possibly not a bad idea.

"Enjoy yourself!" the message still read.

"Fine!" Trax said. "If that's what you want, let's do this!"

He undid his belt, pulled his torn trousers and even more threadbare underwear down, and grabbed his soft dick. With a few quick strokes, he got it first half-hard, and then, when he was rigid enough, he directed his cock to the waiting hole. It wasn't too difficult to get hard to be honest. Trax hadn't had time to jerk off since the attack on his settlement, and now that he was finally safe and relaxed, he was able to unwind a little bit. He could feel his blood rushing down, and his dick got stiffer and harder, until the head of his dick was throbbing and ready to enter the tight hole.

Trax was panting and gasping as he shoved his dick forward, penetrating the warm, slick tunnel. He couldn't believe how good this felt. The hole was so soft and malleable and so very tight! Immediately, the movements started again, and Trax moaned with delight as his dick was surrounded by waves of pulsing, squeezing pressure. His cock was swallowed whole and pressed on the tight tube as if it wanted to milk his dick. Trax gasped again. There was absolutely no doubt that this device was meant for exactly this purpose. He stepped even closer to the block, until his shaft was buried in the masturbation aid to the hilt. Slowly, he pulled his dick back, feeling every inch of the wet, warm and tight sleeve until the head was resting against the entrance. Then, with a grunt, he shoved it back, making the machine squeal and his body shudder with the intense sensation.

This time, there was another whirring sound inside the machine, and the hole became a lot tighter as a strong suction became active around his cock.

"Fuuuuck..." Trax groaned. His legs were shaking as his shaft was being sucked on with incredible strength. This was so much better than jerking off! He tried to pull back to thrust his cock back in with force but found himself unable to. The suction was so strong that it just didn't allow any movement of his dick. So, all he could do was to stand there, trembling as the machine was milking his cock. He used both his hands to grab onto the machine block in order not to be too overwhelmed. Trax was so enthralled by the experience that he didn't notice the technology in the room turned itself on one by one. Before long, Trax was surrounded by whirring, squealing and clicking noises from all directions.

However, Trax did notice when both of his wrist where suddenly grabbed by cold metal grabs and jerked apart until his arms were forcefully extended left and right of his body. He tried to pull free, but the machine held him firmly. A second later, a metal strap shot out of the block, and forced his legs apart until his whole body was spread-eagled. Then, with a clang, the two straps were bolted to the floor.

Trax was unable to move, except for his hips, which were still being pleasured by the amazingly tight machine sleeve. Was this some kind of intruder detection? Still, the machine pleasuring his cock felt incredible and hadn't it been for the sudden attack of the machinery, he would already be close to cumming. Right now, however, Trax was looking left and right to the strong metal arms holding his wrists in place in increasing confusion and panic.

Then, something new happened. Accompanied by a mechanical whirr, Trax felt a prodding sensation at his exposed ass. Then, without much more of a warning, a silicon replica of a large cock rammed itself into his ass. Trax had secretly always fantasized about being intimate with another man, and, more importantly, to be fucked by another man, but he didn't expect to experience this sensation for the first time here, in all places. He didn't even have the chance to prepare himself, to stretch himself open. The cock, that was clearly made out of the same material as the masturbation aid, was thick and hard and the sudden penetration took his breath away and made him moan both from pain, surprise and pleasure.

The dildo was moving back and forth in a rhythmic pace, slowly, but with a steady mechanical strength. Despite the helpless situation, Trax felt he was in, the combined sensations were too much to bear. With a cry, he came, hard, into the machine, injecting spurt after spurt of his cum into the mechanism.

At the same time, he felt the dildo in his ass release a thick liquid into his intestines as well, leading to a strangely full feeling in his behind.

Trax' faint hope that now the machine would surely release him, however, quickly vanished. After his dick had spent the last drops of his load into the machine, the machine began to move alongside his dick again, the movements now accompanied by the slick feeling of his own sperm in the device. A moment later, the rhythmic fucking of his ass began anew. There was one change to before, though: The screen in front of him no longer showed the "Enjoy yourself" message but instead flickered with lightning fast strings of zeros and ones, each one displaying for little more than a millisecond.

Trax felt the strangest sensation as the dildo continued to fuck his ass. The semen, or whatever the machine was pumping into his bowels, was now acting as a lubricant and his ass was being fucked in the most pleasant way. At the same time, he felt a tingling sensation all over his body. He watched in amazement as all the little dark hairs on his body one after another fell to the ground like specks of dust. Trax had barely time to notice, though, as another grab from behind fixated his head to the screen in front of him.

Still, the strange sensation didn't stop there. Trax couldn't see it because he was unable to turn his head now, but he could almost feel his skin turning an unnatural gray - no, silver color. At the same time, his skin became harder and colder.

Trax groaned as his body suddenly expanded. He had been a fit, lean man, but now, his body changed so quickly it was almost like magic, accompanied by a churning feeling from within him. Again, he came, and again, more thick liquid was deposited into him as well, just as his bod became more and more bulky.

Trax' head was swimming. Somehow, the strings of binary numbers almost made sense to him. It was clear that something was planted into his brain, but he couldn't make sense of what exactly it was. However, there was one thing he could make sense of.

Trax had to serve Utopia. The thought appeared so quickly and so forcefully Trax couldn't help but say it out loud: "Serve... Utopia". What was going on?

He didn't have time to think about it further as his body expanded even more. His cock was still being squeezed and the dildo was still fucking him, and his muscles were burning from the constant strain, but the tingling sensation had not yet stopped. The skin on his arms and legs split open at the joints now. Around the parts that didn't need to move, cold and rigid metal plates formed now, while the joints were becoming flexible plastic. Trax could almost *feel* his bones become metal and his muscles being replaced by powerful servo motors. His chest had barreled out and the skin became a large metal casing. Inside, a whirring and clacking noise took place, before several valves formed at the side of his torso, leading to an internal oil tank.

Trax was acutely aware of all of that, but he couldn't react to it. His eyes were glued to the screen and with every passing number, Trax felt his own will being pushed away, replaced by a cold calculating logic, primed at a single motive.

"Serve Utopia", Trax said again and this time, his voice sounded different, almost artificial. The old Trax was still there of course - even as his head turned into the cold metal skull and his face was replaced by a red visor containing his sensory equipment, Trax original personality was perfectly preserved. He just couldn't help it. He had lost all control over his body, his voice and even his thoughts. He was being converted and there was nothing he could do. One last spurt of cum, the last remains of his human nature left his cock just before it turned into a set of tubes and electric connectors. The connector in his rear port deposited a last portion of nanobots and withdrew from the port after that. With that, the restraints holding his arms and legs released him at once. Unlike his flesh body from before however, Trax' new metal body didn't slump in on itself but stood unmoved due to its strong internal structure.

Trax wanted to turn around, to run away, but his body wouldn't obey his commands. Instead, another clear, pristine thought formed in his mind. "Connecting", Trax said in his new, mechanical voice.

Then, all of a sudden, his mind exploded and expanded. He was now *connected* to the city, to Utopia. Even more so, he was becoming a *part* of Utopia, one mechanical drone to serve the wealthy inhabitants of the city.

"Receiving new designation.... TRX-1001".

TRX-1001 quietly observed as the doors to the room sprung open. It withdrew its frontal groin connector from the conversion unit and stomped towards its assigned maintenance task.

As TRX-1001 entered the city of Utopia, Trax, who was still inside, was overcome by mixed feelings. He had really done it. He had reached the city of dreams. He had even become somewhat immortal, but at what cost. He had been reduced to little more than a subroutine in one of the thousand and one autonomous drones serving the city, toiling away day after day.

#male transformation #inanimate transformation

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auratux · 1 year

Note

Can u do a fic where u take him to the outskirts of the sea to show him how similar he looks to the otters 😍 thank u elder sheldon 🧏‍♀️

YES OFC ELDER SHELDON WILL DO THIS, I HOPE U ENJOY <3 || unedited / not proof read

“And may I ask, if that is okay with you, where we are heading?”

"I already told you, darling," you hum, your fingers grasped around his large gloved hand and give it a squeeze and in return, he squeezes right back. "It's a surprise."

an exasperated sigh fills the air. "You already know how I feel about such surprises, my love. Why do you continue to antagonize me by doing so?"

"It's not a big deal. I promise you, you're gonna like this one."

"I sure hope so," he mutters, following you down the steps that lay behind the Opera Epiclese. His eyes squint from the sun and avert his gaze elsewhere, turning his head to the right and noticing the sandy path.

"The coast?" he asks in curiosity. His nose scrunched up at the small crunch sounds underneath his shoes - hating that he might have to clean his attire later when he returned to his home.

"Mhm!"

After about a few minutes, the two of you finally reached your destination. You let go of Neuvillette's hand and carefully climb on top of the lowest rock, using the other rocks for assistance and your lover follows your actions.

"Well wha-"

"shh!" you shushed him, patting the spot beside you and he found himself on his knees beside you. "Look," you point out towards the sea and the lone rock that resides not far from you.

on that rock lay 3 otters and around the rock, 2 others were lying on their back in the water, holding paws to not drift away from one another.

"Otters?" The chief justice was absolutely dumbfounded.

"yes!" you laugh. "they look exactly like you!"

"hmm." The chief justice is left puzzled. his head tilts to the side slightly, eyeing the sea creatures not far from him. "Perhaps," he mutters, eyes widening slightly when the animal props its head to stare at him.

Like out of a story, the animal finds its way closer to the two of you but enough distance to back away and flee if needed. A small noise emits from the creature, as if communicating.

"Yes I see." Neuvillette nods his head, pretending to communicate with the otter to your amusement. "Even the otter here," he gestures towards the blue mammal. "Agrees that he looks like me."

"I told you Neuv," you reach toward his thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I bet you didn't even know these guys existed."

"No," he lowers his head and grows quiet as if ashamed. "I never knew. I don't come out often, you know this."

"Well," you start off, scooting closer to him and resting your head on his shoulder, eyes following the small animals playing in the water and swimming around one another. "Fontaine will be okay if you take days off. You should come and see the world with me."

"I think I will take you on that offer, darling."

#neuvillette x reader #neuvillette #genshin impact #genshin impact x reder #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #neuvillette imagines

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honkytonk-hangman · 1 year

Text

Big Girl

Jake Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake Seresin doesn't believe you should hide your light under a bushel, no.

Notes: Just a lil drabble i've been working on. I just think Jake would be the kinda guy who loves his girl to be big and loud and successful!!!!!!! ty to @roleycoleyland for being my rock the past few months holy gosh this one's for you bbyyy!!!! <3

Masterlist

“It’s a deployment, Samuel! It’s not like I have a choice!” you hiss, before closing your eyes and trying to get a hold of yourself. Afterall, it's not as though you and your boyfriend were in the comfort of your apartment. No, he’d decided to start this argument in the parking lot of the damn Hard Deck.

“Having a choice has nothing to do with it. You want to go, that's the real issue here!” Sam all but spits at you. You reel back, and throw your hands up in exasperation.

“So what if I do?! This is a big deal for me! This is a big deal for my career! I should be allowed to be excited about that!” you insist. Sam rolls his eyes at you and scoffs.

“Oh, there you go again! It’s always got to be about you and your big career, right?! Can’t let anything come before that!”

“That isn’t fair,” you lower your voice, and try to keep it from wobbling. “I have tried so hard to make sure you know you’re equally as important to me, but that was never going to work, was it?” Your voice does break a little this time, and you suck in air as you cross your arms over your chest and take a step back from him.

“You have decided from day one that you feel inferior, and you are never going to let me forget it! I have done everything to show you otherwise but you won’t let it be enough! You don’t want to change, you want me to change.” you probably shouldn’t let all of this air out in the parking lot of your favourite local bar, but you can’t stop yourself now, and the words tumble from your mouth faster than you can think things through. “I have tried to put myself in the box that makes you comfortable, but the truth is that I’m too big for it, I'm never going to stop being too big, so I’m never going to fit your stupid box!”

The two of your stare at one another for a few moments, you huffing tearily, and Sam staring at you in what looks like disgust. At last he scoffs again, and looks away from you, off toward the beach before he pulls out his car keys.

“Good luck with your big career.” he says mirthlessly, and you shut your mouth, swallowing hard as he climbs back in his car, giving you only seconds to step out of the way before he’s throwing it in reverse.

Suddenly you’re standing alone in the parking lot, blinking at the space where your probably-now-ex boyfriend just was. You don’t feel regret, exactly, but you do feel a deep sense of disappointment pulse through you. It’s not like you didn't mean everything you said, but you wonder if perhaps you might’ve said it differently.

Before you can get too far feeling sad though, a righteous kind of anger takes you over and you kick into action, stomping inside the bar and pushing through the busy crowd. When you order a straight bourbon, Penny frowns at you, and you know your eyes must be all red and glassy, but she doesn’t ask you, simply gives you her kindest smile and slides your glass towards you.

You down it quickly, and take a few deep breaths, hoping the alcohol might steel you some more, but it frustrates you to find your tears have started leaking, and you angrily wipe at them with the back of your hand.

“I don’t mean to pry…” a voice, somewhat familiar, sounds from next to you, making you turn. You’re slightly startled to find one of the pilots you’ve seen around base leaning casually against the bar. You know him to be a TOPGUN graduate, like yourself, but you’d never spoken before, let alone shared the sky. Hangman, you remember suddenly, and square your shoulders somewhat. It was coming back to you now. He had a bit of a reputation.

“I happened to arrive at the same time as you… couldn’t help but overhear all the commotion,” he speaks like he finds it all rather funny, but straightens up and clears his throat when you can’t help but look away from him, struggling to blink back tears. Dropping all pretence, he stops leaning and steps in a little closer with a frown on his face.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I wasn’t tryna’...” he trails off once more and you suck in a deep breath as you try to calm down.

Embarrassment lances through you, and you mostly just wish Hangman will leave you alone completely, but he doesn’t. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him shuffle on his feet in a manner you hadn’t been able to imagine him doing before now, and you try to get ahold of yourself.

Hangman seems to watch you for a beat before his demeanour changes up and he ducks his head down to catch your attention.

“For the record, if you hadn’t of said any of that, I might’ve,” His voice is somewhat humorous again, but this time it’s like he’s trying to make you laugh, which, caught off guard by his words, you do. You sneak a glance over at him, not feeling so intimidated anymore, and you almost laugh again to see him look so proud.

You watch as Hangman flags down Penny once more, ordering you another round and a beer as you use a napkin to blot at your face discreetly. When he looks back at you, his expression is much more intent than you’re fully comfortable with.

“Don’t you ever let some guy put you in a box, alright?” he tells you like it’s an order. It takes you a moment, but eventually you find yourself nodding at his words, not bothering to hide your surprise. The little you knew of this man was that he was prickly at most, and a complete asshole at worst, so his almost angry words in your defence take you off guard.

He stares at you until he seems satisfied you’ve heard him, and then his shoulders sag just a little and his expression softens.

“Find someone who’ll love that bigness, alright?” he says after a moment, before clearing his voice and straightening up once again as your drinks are delivered. Your cheeks want to warm in embarrassment at his referencing your little speech outside, but then he’s taking his beer with a thanks to Penny, and gesturing blindly toward you.

“Put her drinks on my tab tonight, alright?”

He doesn’t give you time to protest before he’s pushed away from the bar and disappeared into the bustling crowd of patrons.

The next time you see Hangman, his sudden appearance is just as unexpected as the first time, and just as welcome. You’re in a bar again, of course, only this time halfway around the world and thankfully, not crying. Your squad had a limited amount of shoreleave, so you were making the most of it while you could, before you needed to be back on base in the morning.

You hear a loud cheer from somewhere by the pool tables and glance over your shoulder toward where most of the Navy personnel had gathered, but you can’t see much aside from a few new faces. You assume they must be the other squad that Roukie had mentioned were passing through, but you’re quickly distracted again by the bartender coming your way.

Just as your server begins moving away to sort out your rather large order, you feel a hand at your back, quickly followed by the materialisation of a uniformed man beside you, his massive grin and sparkling green eyes flashing as a welcomed sight to your slightly hazy mind, and you let out a gentle sound of excitement as you turn to greet him properly.

“Hangman!” you exclaim, feeling only a little funny about being so happy to see him when you don’t even know him that well. Hangman thinks little of it, his smile turning brighter, more genuine as he eases into a lean against the bar, mirroring the last time you saw him, all cool and casual confidence as he nods towards you.

“How’s my Big Girl?” he asks, eyes crinkling in the corners. You can’t help but let out a laugh, but force yourself to look away from him for a second and pray to any god listening that he can’t tell how flustered you are.

“I think this is the first time in history a man has said that to a grown woman and isn’t going to get gut punched for it.” you deflect from the barrel rolls your stomach is doing. He chortles, and settles in even closer to you, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Well?” he prods, still staring at you even as the bartender returns, and you go to pay for your round, only to have Hangman push your outstretched hand away and hand over his own card instead. “Come on now, don’t keep me waitin’,” he says with playful sternness, and your already two-drinks deep mind can’t help but give in, and you begin gushing about your deployment so far, a few of the assignments you’d gotten to do, and some of the achievements you’d earned. Hangman stays staring at you through it all even as you gesticulate wildly as you speak or describe manoeuvres, and you’re so invested in your story telling that you barely register how or when you’d both moved back over to the surrounds of the pool table, where you assume Hangman had circulated the round you’d (he’d) bought all the while still listening to you talk.

You must be four or five drinks down when you at last come to a stop, giggling a small amount at the tail end of your last story. The sun has well and truly set now and you’re crammed in one side of a sticky pleather booth, Hangman on the other. You realise then, that you must have been talking for over an hour, probably much more.

“I’m sorry, that was so much!” you say, bashfully ducking your head a little. Hangman cocks his head at you, a wry smile pulling at his lips as he watches you fiddle with your drinks coaster.

“I know what I asked for.” he tells you with an assuredness you can’t question, and even as you glance away from him to catch yourself, his attention remains on you. You have to blame your four or five, maybe six drinks for the next words out of your mouth.

“You know, I don’t think you’re an asshole at all,” you declare, face growing hot when Hangman lets out a surprised, but amused bark of laughter, but doesn’t question your statement.

“Oh, is that right?” he asks instead, leaning forward like he’s very much intrigued by this assertion. “What am I then?”

You think he’s teasing you, but again, you can’t really help what comes out of you, and you draw your arm up onto the table to rest your head in your palm, and blink back at him slowly.

“Pretty, for the most part.” you tell him, trying to suppress a sudden yawn. Hangman's laugh is less boisterous this time, more of a chuckle really, and you find that your blinking has slowed even more, longer pauses between closing your eyes and opening them.

When you startle back awake some seconds later, you think you might’ve just fallen asleep, but you see that Hangman is watching you softly again, and you can’t help but smile as your eyes flitter shut once again. Warm hands guide you to your feet moments, maybe hours later, but when you pull back at the grasping, a soft shushing joined by a gentle voice lulls you back into sleep.

“Alright, Big Girl lets get you home.”

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