#Dark They Were and Golden Eyed

[oldschoolfrp]

From the back cover of White Dwarf #2, Aug/Sept 1977, Trev Wright's art nouveau ad for Dark They Were and Golden Eyed, an infuential London sci-fi, comic, and occult shop open from 1969-1981, named for a Ray Bradbury story

[talefoundryshow]

NOW ON NEBULA!

What will it be like when humanity takes to the stars? Ray Bradbury paints a particularly unnerving picture of what could occur…

[enterrandomname]

It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Based on Dark They Were, and Golden-Eyed

Word Count: 1.1k

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It had been two years since you were forced to leave your home planet, Earth. Life on Mars was a challenge for you to adjust to, and it must’ve been difficult for others too. You were part of a group of colonists that were dispatched to Mars for unknown reasons. Your family was devastated by the news, trying to spend as much time with you as possible before your departure to the red planet.

Despite all of this, you were somehow able to be friends with The Bittering Family, which is composed of Harry, the father, Cora, the mother, and their children Tim, Laura, and David.

It was strange to wake up to the seeded grass that had begun to sprout purple. You listened as Harry frantically rambled about how his cow had grown a third horn in the middle of its head. You only nodded, sipping your drink as you watched Harry throw his hands in the air.

“Can’t we just return back to Earth, (Y/N)?!” He angrily asked, kicking the Marrtian sand away from him.

“Well, Harry,” you calmly responded. “We can wait till the next ships return with the supplies we need.” Harry only frowned. “And how long will that take?” He grumbled, crossing his arms in disappointment.

You paused, silently doing the math in your head. Math was never one of your favorite subjects, yet you somehow managed to pass it. “I dunno, maybe a year or two?” Harry stared at you, dumbfounded.

“Two years?!” You nodded. “Two fuckin’ years?!” He was never the type to curse, so hearing this was quite surprising.

“That’s it! Come on, (Y/N)!”

“Where are we going?”

“We are going to build a ship to get off this red planet!”

⋆——————✧◦♚◦✧——————⋆

“Harry, give yourself a rest, man.” You sighed, handing the man a cloth to wipe away the grease stains on his hand. “I can’t rest, (Y/N); you know that already.”

It was true. After hearing the news about an atomic bomb destroying New York City and the only spaceport, Harry had began to work hard on the ship. You tried to help him out by handing the man the tools he requested, but that only did little to help him.

“What are you two idiots doing?”

The voice caused both you and Harry to look over, eyes widening at the crowd of people outside of Harry’s garage. Harry’s lips parted as he noticed the sudden change in the colonist’s eyes. “Y-your eyes!” He pointed it out, dropping the wrench he had in his hand. “Why are they gold?!” Harry gasped at the man’s skin color, covering his mouth. “Your sk-skin..!”

The colonists only looked confused, with one of them raising an eyebrow before handing Harry a mirror. “You have them too, dumbass.” They chuckled. “It’s not even a big deal. I think my eyes look attractive. What’d ya say we head to the canals and look for some ladies?” The crowd cheered before leaving you and Harry.

The man whimpered as he stared at his own reflection, suddenly dropping the mirror in disbelief. “What are we going to do, (Y/N)?” he whispered, pulling you into a hug as he sobbed on your shoulder.

You awkwardly stood there, patting the devastated man on the back. “It’s goin’ to be alright.” You whispered.

If only you could take those words back. What makes you even think that everything will go well? People have started to change; they even started to say different words that you somehow understand?!

“Darling!” Harry’s wife, Cora, yelled. She had her children beside her, each of them wearing their swimsuits. “Why don’t we all go for a swim in the canals? I heard that they can help relax the mind.” She innocently smiled, not even caring that the six of them looked partially Martian.

After some convincing, Harry finally agreed, but only because you were going with him.

You sighed in relief as you felt the water against your body. “Maybe we just needed to go for a swim, Harry?” You said this, smiling at the man, who nodded in response.

“Mom, dad,” said Tim, the eldest of the three children. “Can I change my name to Linnl?”

The two parents faced each other before reluctantly agreeing.

“Sure.”

“Of course!”

Your golden eyes only narrowed at the husband and wife.

“Oh! Oh! Can I also change my name?!” One of the other kids asked. Honestly, you forget their names, but who cares at the moment? They changed their names to Martian names, and that’s that.

When you and the Bittering Family returned from the canals, you noticed that it was almost like a ghost town. Everyone had just left. You looked at your fingers, noticing how your skin is getting darker. Was it just you, or did everyone suddenly get tall and skinny?

5 years later. . .

A rocket fell out of the sky. It lay steaming in the valley. Men leaped out of it, shouting. “We won the war on Earth! We’re here to rescue you! Hey!” But the American-built town of cottages, peach trees, and theaters was silent. They found a flimsy rocket frame rusting in an empty shop.

The rocket men searched the hills. The captain established headquarters in an abandoned bar. His lieutenant came back to report. "The town's empty, but we found native life in the hills, sir. Dark people. Yellow eyes. Martians. Very friendly. We talked a bit, not much. They learn English fast. I'm sure our relations will be most friendly with them, sir."

"Dark, eh?" mused the captain. "How many?"

“Six, eight hundred, I’d say, living in those marble ruins in the hills, sir. Tall, healthy. Beautiful woman.”

"Did they tell you what became of the men and women who built this Earth settlement, Lieutenant?"

“They hadn't the foggiest notion of what happened to this town or its people."

"Strange. You think those Martians killed them?"

"They look surprisingly peaceful. Chances are a plague did this town in, sir."

"Perhaps. I suppose this is one of those mysteries we'll never solve. One of those mysteries you read about."

The captain looked at the room, the dusty windows, the blue mountains rising beyond, the canals moving in the light, and he heard the soft wind in the air. He shivered. Then, recovering, he tapped a large, fresh map he had thumb-tacked to the top of an empty table. "Lots to be done, Lieutenant." His voice droned on and quietly on as the sun sank behind the blue hills.

"New settlements. Mining sites, minerals to be looked for. Bacteriological specimens taken. The work, all the work. And the old records were lost. We'll have a job of remapping to do, renaming the mountains and rivers and such. Calls for a little imagination."

"What do you think of naming those mountains the Lincoln Mountains, this canal the Washington Canal, those hills —we can name those hills for you, Lieutenant? Diplomacy. And you, for a favor, might name a town for me. Polishing the apple. And why not make this the Einstein Valley, and further over... are you listening, Lieutenant?"

The lieutenant snapped his gaze from the blue colour and the quiet mist of the hills far beyond the town.

"What? Oh, yes, sir!"

[chewablepebbles]

[arcsin27]

All of these (it’s called dark they were and golden eyed btw)

Also long way up to heaven or whatever it was called. And the one with the frozen lamb leg.

And dude, silent snow secret snow. Jesus fuck.

Plays and short fiction are about reading the single most fucked up thing you've ever encountered in 45 minutes or less and then going back to work like you didn't just meet both faces of god and satan on your lunch break

[have-you-read-this-short-fiction]

*Originally published under the title "The Naming of Names"

[zoltyx]

I love looking into all the stories I read in school that traumatized me and finding out they were all written by Ray Bradbury

[dirtyriver]

Nostalgia hour for a legendary bookshop I never went to:

Hi Neil,

ever since you stated that where Aziraphale lives is inspired by Berwick Street, I go there regularly (I don't live far away). It's awesome! It does, indeed, have plenty of record shops, there is a coffee shop, a bookshop, and actually around the corner there are shops that would have been "bookshops" but can be obvious about it now.

There's a comic book store (the picture!), a unisex tailor shop, so many costume shops (pride, here I come!). Anyway, I guess that's my recommendation for people if you post this.

Do you still go there sometimes? Can you recommend a secret gem in Soho?

Thanks in advance if you ever answer this ✨

I love all of Soho, and it comes with extra layers of memory for me.

I remember when Dark They Were and Golden Eyed, a science fiction bookshop long before Forbidden Planet, was in Berwick Street. I was 15 the first time I went there. Then it moved to Queen Anne's Court (between Dean Street and Wardour Street) and became bigger and I bought my books and comics there until I was about 19 or 20 and it went out of business...

[lilacgaby]

title: awaken.

pairing: barbarian!bakugo x goddess!reader,

synopsisꨄ. you've been asleep all this time, who knew a barbarian would be the one to awaken you?

(extended ver of this)

as katsuki wandered through the never ending forest, he let the words of the elders ring through his head. "you'll never be anything more than a placeholder for the next king."

he set off, destined to prove himself, show that he was worth more than any of them could predict. his father was worried and heartbroken at his sudden departure, but his mother understood that he'd need to do this now, or he'd never forgive himself.

the first thing he did as he set off was to secure food for the night. he eyed a group of hogs, all large and heavy, perfect for feeding him throughout the night. he grabbed the bow out of his satchel and aimed it at the largest one, which landed perfectly in his target's head. he couldn't help but to let out a celebratory laugh as it fell to the ground, making the hogs around it scurry off into the forest.

that seemed to be the last of his luck for the day. he now wished he chose a different day to set off, as the rains and winds were heavy, it was impossible to set up camp in the forest as it was. suddenly, through the curtains of heavy greenery, he saw an abandoned structure. he'd prefer anything to the harsh conditions mother nature set out on him now, so he cut through the vines as he made his way into the structure.

it was grand inside, he thought. he couldn't see very well thanks to the darkness brought on by the rains, but from what he could see it must have been a place of high regard in its peak.

he lit a torch, carrying it as he continued on into the structure. he determined it had been a church in its old days, long forgotten due to.. well he didn't figure that part out yet.

he bumped into a object that resembled a bench, besides the old candle wax, fresh leaves, and golden statutes he saw littering it. he made a mental note to take those with him as he organized his things onto the bench.

he laid his wine down first, a treat he'd enjoy on the way back to his kingdom. next, he laid down his clothes he planned to change into. though he was a barbarian, and by nature they did not wear many clothes, katsuki knew the trip would require such clothing, so he brought the best.

his next item was the huge hog he'd caught earlier. he lugged it on to the bench-like object, thinking of how it was a perfect spot to gut and prepare it for his meal later on. speaking of his cooking, he made sure to bring only the finest oils to cook in. he set it down next to the hog, satisfied with his array of items, he'd slumped against the bench, closed his eyes and sighed.

when he opened it again, he saw the shadow of a person moving behind him. alarmed, he readied his other weapon he always kept on his side, his blade welded by his mother.

though, his blade was dropped out of his hand at the sight. his jaw went slack, eyes wide, and the sudden urge to worship overcame him as he finally saw who was behind him.

a gorgeous.. deity? who glowed with an luminous essence, who adorned pointed ears, heavy amounts of gold, a silk dress that encapsulated your body, and an unreadable expression as you sifted through his items.

the ability to speak was taken from him, he felt as if he was at your mercy, and he was. he was on his knees before he could process it.

your hands glided through the items he had placed on the bench, after you finished looking through the group, you finally spared him a glance.

"your gifts are of high value," you spoke, your voice royal, with an unimaginable presence. "i'm not as powerful as i used to be, my temple and followers were lost to time, my memory faded from the minds of the new." you sauntered over to him now, becoming eye-level with him.

he'd never felt so unworthy.

"i have not much i can give you or do for you, so what would you like from me?"

his ability to speak finalky returned, his mind though, remained blank, so he answered with the only thing on his blank mind:

"your hand."

he immediately rescinded back, never feeling so unnerved and unknowing as he did in this moment. "i- it was an unreasonable request! you-- it's beneath y-"

"that's acceptable. i will go with you, barbarian."

he was shocked as you accepted, though he wouldn't dare question your judgement. "katsuki." he blurted out. "please call me katsuki."

"i will marry you, if it's what you desire katsuki."

his eyes shot open. "yes. i-- it's what i'd like."

"you may call me [name] then." he clutched his heart, he wasn't sure if he was dreaming, but if he was he'd never want it to end.

"alright.. [name]." you smiled at the hesitance in his voice, and waved his worries off with a smile.

"shall we head out then?"

"we can't, the weather is horrible."

"what weather? it's sunny as normal." surely enough, as he turned around the weather had returned to a calm, warm day. the harsh winds and rains no longer present, replaced by the mundane weather.

"i-- i suppose you're correct." he gathered his supplies, even getting your permission to take the things he had on your alter, as he learned it was, back with you two. he slung his satchel behind his back and turned to you.

you held out your hand, and after he placed a chaste kiss on it, he carried you in his arms. the journey back was a blur to him, the burning in his feet nonexistent as he focused on the feeling of his skin on yours, the feeling of his hands on your body.

you arrived sooner then expected. internally, katsuki was excited. not only did he manage to revitalize a goddess, but he'd marry her. he was ecstatic not only at the prospect of beating this into the elders' faces, but to be yours for his eternity.

as he burst back into the conference room, the elders were shocked to see him back so soon. the smug expressions they would've gotten were wiped off the second they noticed you in his arms.

even they, from their distance at their cabinets, could sense the raw presence you had.

"prince bakugo, what is the meaning of this?"

"i've brought to you undeserving folks my wife."

the table of elders all collectively choked at the revelation. "wife? but we've yet to go through the proper trails and period of compatibility. that woman isn't even a barbarian."

"you're right, she's above all of you. she's a deity, and i've earned her hand in marriage. i want my wedding planned for next week, make it fit for a god."

"a deity you say?" the elder's felt like their eyes were about to burst out their sockets. "but--"

they heard nothing as he walked away from the room, you still in his arms. as you eyed the new, strange innovations and buildings around you, katsuki clutched you closer to his chest.

he set you onto a bed, the feeling of silk under your hands one that was foreign, as you hadn't been awakened for over a century.

he knelt in front of you, taking off one of his necklaces, and wordlessly asking for permission to set it on you.

you didn't know this, but this was sacred to the barbarians, presenting one's necklace to another was like talking a piece of your soul and entrusting them with it.

he looked at the sight of you, his ruby necklace with the teeth of the beasts he slayed contrasting severely to the gold you adorned, and he smiled.

you felt your heart go into a knot at the sight of him, he held your hand as he suddenly made a vow to you.

"i vow to be your greatest worshipper. even if i am not the last, i will set a standard that will long exceed my lifespan.

for you are my wife now, and i'll cherish you as long as i may live."

you smiled softly, reaching out to him to hold his other hand. "you've already become my most interesting worshipper, that i'm certain of."

as the two of you basked in each others presence, other gods were smiling upon you two as well.

unbeknownst to you, zeus, a god who had favored you since your birth, had set off the storm on bakugo, leading him to your alter.

not like it was what you were pondering at the moment anyway, as you caressed and embraced your soon to be husband, who you were already planning to turn into a god alongside you.

[talefoundryshow]

NEW VIDEO!

Whatever you’ve imagined life on Mars to be, we’re willing to bet that THIS isn’t it.

[harry-the-pearce]

This could definitely be turned into a story about how we take over the ruins, they become lived in again, then our civilization collapses and centuries later another human civilization comes by. Like that Ray Bradbury story about Mars.

When humanity finally set foot on the first habitable planet outside of the solar system we were surprised, and saddened, to find the ruins of an advanced civilization. We were even more surprised, and confused, when we determined these ruins to be of human origin.

[ariestrxsh]

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 content warning: smut, innocence corruption, purity kink, sexualization of religious imagery, teasing, masturbation, voyeurism, mentions of sex toys, mostly just really suggestive, sub!virgin!matt, experienced!pervy!reader

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 author's note: don't read if you're religious. it's going to offend you a lot if you do, and i really don't want to offend anyone. this fic is a bit of a slow burn with a lot of lead up and sexual tension before they actually do anything. :) i anticipate this storyline to have several parts.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 summary: a good little christian boy named matt moves in next door, and once you find out he's a virgin, you test his morals, determined to tease him until he caves.

the song was requested by @greer2301 💖 (i hope i don't disappoint you with the storyline, and i'm sorry it took me so long to get to this one!)

me & u part one

It was a Saturday afternoon in your suburban neighborhood, the summer sun beating down on your face directly overhead. You stood in your front yard in a solid white t-shirt and jean shorts with a hand to your forehead, shading your eyes from the brightness, and your other hand on your hip as you watched a giant uhaul pull into the house next door that had been up for sale for as long as you'd lived there. An old, orange truck followed right behind it.

Were you finally getting new neighbors?

You watched as a handsome brunette with tattoos who looked to be about your age got out of the rust-colored vehicle. He was in a white tank top and faded blue jeans, and he was really cute. An older man, who you presumed was probably his dad, emerged from the driver's side of the uhaul.

The younger boy's blue eyes caught yours as he opened up the back of the truck to get out some boxes, and he shot you a shy smile and a small wave. You had to have him.

Several hours later, as the late afternoon sun was beginning to set in the sky, and after the boy and his father had a chance to unpack some of their belongings, you headed to your kitchen to bake a batch of chocolate chip cookies, so you'd have a reason to go over and talk to him. Maybe find out his name, maybe find out if he was single or not.

You got out milk, eggs, flour, and chocolate chips, and after mixing them all together, you portioned out perfect little dough blobs and stuck the pan into your oven, nearly burning yourself, and set a timer.

Once they were done baking, you beelined it for your new neighbor's house with a plate of fresh, homemade chocolate chips cookies and a glass of milk.

When you stepped onto the lawn, the blue-eyed boy was walking down the steps of his new porch, and he glanced up at you. "Hey. I'm your new neighbor. I saw you guys unpacking your stuff. I figured you could stand to take a break from unloading boxes and have some cookies," you said, offering him the plate.

"Hey, thanks," he said smiling, accepting the plate and the glass from you. He thought you were really pretty, and talking to you really brought out his shy side.

"What's your name?" You asked, studying all his attractive features up close in the golden hour lighting, his perfectly-shaped nose, his pretty teeth, and his luscious, pink lips. You loved the way the sun was hitting his gorgeous blue eyes.

"Matt," he responded timidly. You introduced yourself to himself as well. "You gonna invite me in?" You peeked over his shoulder and in through his doorway, walking past him and letting yourself in. "Uh, sure. There's not much in there yet," Matt replied, following you into his brand new house.

"Uh, sorry about the mess," Matt nervously apologized, gesturing towards the general disarray. "I get it. I've moved before," you responded understandingly. The walls were empty, and so was the rest of the room besides a kitchen table, some kitchen chairs, and several half-unpacked boxes, overflowing with dishes and kitchen appliances.

You admired the dark brown, hardwood flooring, the matching cabinets, and the gorgeous granite countertops. He placed the plate of cookies on the island in the center of the room and took a bite out of one. "Mmm. Still warm," he grinned at you, washing the sugary treat down with the milk you gave him.

"How old are you?" You asked him, your eyes drawn to his strong, veiny hands and his rings on his long, slender fingers. "Twenty-one," he told you. "Same," you responded while you watched him devour another one of your cookies. "These are really good," he complimented your baking, blushing and wiping a few crumbs from his mouth.

"Was that guy who was unloading stuff with you, your dad?" You asked him, and he nodded. "Yeah, he left to go get us some food for tonight," he mumbled in between bites.

"Naughty boy. Spoiling your dinner," you lowered your voice and smirked at him. You noticed his eyes subtly widen, and he stopped chewing for a second.

"You should show me your room," you seductively said, biting your lip. "Uh, sure. Again, there's not much in it," Matt shrugged, completely oblivious to your overt flirting.

You started up his stairs, admiring the sturdy banister, imagining how good it would feel to have him fuck you over it, and once you got to the top of the stairs, you turned around, noticing Matt behind you, his eyes glued to your ass.

You gave him a look that silently asked, like what you see? He pulled his gaze from your bottom to your eyes with a guilty look on his face like a puppy dog that had gone to the bathroom somewhere he shouldn't have.

"Which one's your room?" You asked him. "Third door on the left," he said, clearing his throat and trying to pretend he wasn't just checking you out. You led the way, even though you knew the layout even less than he did.

You turned the knob and pushed open his door. His bed was already set up with flannel sheets and throw pillows, and on the opposite wall, a desk with a laptop and a few books on it. As you peered out the window, you realized you had a direct view of his room from your room.

He had a connected bathroom, and as you wandered into there, you admired the sage green back splash of the shower through the transparent shower door. You imagined how steamy the two of you could make the glass.

Other than that, more scattered boxes decorated the area, some opened, some not.

"What are you gonna do with the place?" You wondered, pacing around his room. "I want to paint it," he said, scanning the room with his eyes. "What color?" You inquired, wandering back over towards the entrance to his room and subtly shutting and locking his door while he was distracted by deliberating your question.

"Still not sure. Wanted to go for something cooler, darker. Maybe a forest green or a stone blue. Something earthy," he mumbled, wondering if he had taken too long to answer your question. You could tell he was nervous and shy, and you found it extremely endearing.

"That sounds awesome. I'm gonna help you paint it," you stated, taking a step closer to him. "Sure, that'd be nice of you," he said agreeably. "What are you doing tomorrow? You should come see the badass treehouse I have in my backyard. It's really private up there. We can do anything you want," you chewed on your lip, looking him up and down.

"We can smoke some weed and just talk. Or smoke some weed and not talk," you said, standing on your tippy toes and whispering into his ear while you took your pointer finger and seductively caressed his chest. You noticed a small tent forming in his pants.

He liked how dominant and direct your demeanor was, but he was worried you may have misread his character. He had never smoked weed and had never had sex. Still, the way you spoke to him and touched him turned him on.

He grabbed a pillow off his bed and held it in front of his erection as if it were less obvious. "You'd better take care of that," you teased him, glancing down at his bulge. "Uh, I don't do that. My dad and I are going to church tomorrow morning," he swallowed anxiously, blushing at your observation.

"You don't what? You don't smoke, or you don't jerk off?" You asked, smirking at him. "Uh, I don't smoke," he nervously smiled. "Isn't it a sin to jerk off? You really are a naughty boy, aren't you?" You maliciously grinned at him. His breath caught in his throat, and he started to look at you in desperation, but he caught himself, immediately shifting his gaze around uncomfortably.

"You could come if you want," he offered, his eyes still darting around the room as if he were afraid to look at you. "I can cum if I want?" You teased him. "To church. You could come with us to church," he clarified, looking down and reaching behind his head with his tattooed arm to nervously rub the back of his neck. You loved making him nervous.

"Why? So you can watch me burst into flames?" You jumped at him, putting your fingers up behind your head, making devil horns while you playfully smiled at him, but he still jumped back, startled by your joke, and he nervously giggled at it once he realized you were probably kidding. A good little Christian boy.

"You know, you're cute enough that I'd consider going to church with you. But it's really hard to beat getting high in my treehouse and touching myself, so I think I'm gonna pass," you told him.

His jaw dropped and a needy expression overcame his face while he imagined you sitting on the floor of a treehouse, one hand holding a joint between your lips, and the other down the front of your unbuttoned denim shorts.

"Maybe I'll still be up there when church lets out," you tempted him. He couldn't believe how comfortable you were saying all that out loud. "You think I'm cute?" He asked, raising his eyebrows, still processing everything you'd just casually admitted in the last few seconds.

"Yeah, and you think I'm cute," you confidently stated, staring at the throw pillow in front of his pants. His cheeks turned a deep shape of red, and he wiped away a bead of sweat from his forehead.

Suddenly, you heard the low rumbling of an old truck and a car door shut. "Uh, I think my dad's home. I don't think we should be up here alone with my door shut and locked when he walks in," Matt said, wide-eyed.

He reached into his jeans to tuck his erection into his waistband. You watched in awe, hoping to get a peak, but he was too quick about it. He headed out of his room, and you trailed behind.

When his dad materialized through the front door, you and Matt were descending the stairs into the kitchen again. "Oh. Hi. You already made a friend, Matt?" His dad smiled at you, put the Cane's bag on the counter, and stuck out his hand for you to shake. His hands were rough and calloused. You daintily shook his hand, shot him an innocent smile, and introduced yourself.

"Yeah, she's our neighbor. She brought us over some cookies," Matt motioned towards the nearly empty plate. "I kinda ate most of them," he giggled. "How kind of you," the older man commented. "I'd offer you some food, but I only planned on feeding the two of us," he motioned towards his son.

"Oh, please. Don't worry. You guys moved in like six hours ago. I don't expect you to feed me," you responded. "I just wanted to pop in and introduce myself. Bring you something sweet," you innocently tilted your head at Matt's father.

"I'll give Matt my number in case you guys need any help unpacking or painting or anything," you grinned over at Matt. "Y-Yeah, sure," Matt stumbled over his words, fidgeting with his phone in his pocket, and handing it to you nervously.

You saved your contact in his phone with a peach emoji, a wet water emoji, and a heart beside your name, and when you handed it back to him, his eyes subtly widened, and he cleared his throat. "Thanks," he muttered. "I'll catch you around," you smiled and subtly winked at Matt, and then you saw yourself out to let the men enjoy their food and get a good night's rest after a long day of heavy lifting.

When you stepped out into the night, you got a closer look at their truck. It was a rust-colored Dodge Dakota from the 70's with a cross hanging in the rearview mirror, and there was a bible on the dashboard. You wondered just how strong Matt's morals were, and what you'd have to do to get them to bend - or even break - for you.

After Matt and his dad sat down at their table and ate together, Matt excused himself to go take a shower. It was the first time he'd had a bathroom connected to his room, and he appreciated the convenience. It took him a few minutes to figure out how the temperature and pressure dials worked, and once he did, he stood underneath the hot water, letting it hit his sore back and soothe the aching muscles in his neck.

He washed his hair, and ran his soapy hands all over the rest of his body. He tried to focus on cleaning himself, but he couldn't help that he was having dirty thoughts. He tried to push his impure fantasies about you to the back of his mind, but the more he tried to run away from them, the more they persisted.

He was pretty sure by now that you were flirting with him. He'd felt the sexual tension between the two of you while you guys stood in his locked bedroom together. He wished his dad hadn't come home when he did, because he wanted to know just how bold you were and how far you would have taken it.

He started getting hard again, and no matter how hard he fought the urge, his hand had a mind of its own. It was the one sin Matt was weakest to - lust. His fingers slithered down below his waist, and he started massaging his cock while his mind was flooded with you.

He imagined what it would have been like to see under your clothes, how your lips would have felt against his neck, and how your fingers would have felt wrapped around his dick like he had his now.

He pumped his hand back and forth over his length, caressing every vein and coaxing a few whimpers from his pretty mouth. Matt was saving himself for marriage, but he could still fantasize about you, right?

He pictured you on top of him with your breasts bouncing in his face. He imagined you straddling him, how wet and tight you'd feel enveloping his rod, and how pornographic your moans would sound. He fisted his cock urgently, his eyes rolling back and his jaw hanging open. The neediest sounds poured from Matt's lips as he replayed the way you sounded when you called him a naughty boy.

It didn't take much before ropes of cum were painting the shower floor, and Matt watched breathlessly as his hot, thick fluid mixed with the water and circled the drain. He immediately felt ashamed after, knowing God didn't make your body as beautiful as it was for Matt to fulfill his carnal desires with.

He figured you'd be disgusted with him if you ever knew. Little did he know, if you had any idea what he was doing behind his steamy shower door, you would have found it flattering.

He finished rinsing himself of his sin, and he grabbed a towel, one of the few things he had unpacked in his bathroom, wrapping it around his waist and stepping out of the shower.

It was right at this time that you were laying in your bed in the dark, trying to fall asleep when you rolled over and noticed Matt's bedroom light come on across the way. You caught a glimpse of Matt through your window in his room in just a towel, having just finished up in the shower.

You couldn't pull your eyes away from him. He looked so good with his hair all wet, and you admired his shirtless figure and the 'v' shaped lines that pointed down to his cock that you were dying to see.

You held your breath as he turned and dropped his towel. You couldn't see much, but you caught a glimpse of his bare ass for a few seconds before he slipped his pajama pants on, and you couldn't deny how cute it was.

Blissfully unaware that you could see him, he knelt down at his bedside and started to pray. You wondered if this was an every night occurrence, and for the most part it was, but Matt would spend an extra long time praying whenever he'd committed a lustful sin, which was more often than not. You peered at him from the comfort of your bedroom, wondering how good he'd look on his knees for you.

After about ten minutes of praying, Matt climbed to his feet, shut off his bedroom light, and crawled between his sheets to drift off to dreamland.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

You were pulled from your deep sleep the next morning at about 8 a.m. by the sound of your phone vibrating next to you. At first, you ignored it, thinking you were getting a text, but when the buzzing against your night stand continued, you realized you had an incoming call.

You didn't recognize the number, but you still answered. "Hello?" You sleepily mumbled into the phone. "Uh, hi," you immediately recognized the shy voice that responded to you. "Last chance for you to come to church with me. I'm leaving in half an hour," Matt told you.

"You wake up at 8 a.m. every Sunday to go to church?" You asked in a groggy tone. "Actually, I've been up for about an hour," he told you. "Do you have any coffee at your place?" You asked him, rubbing your eyes. "I don't even have a coffee maker at my place," he laughed. "I mean, I do somewhere, but it's still packed up."

"I'll come with you to church if we can stop for coffee on the way," you smiled into the phone. "Uh, yeah. We can do that," Matt said, attempting to conceal his excitement about you agreeing to go to church with him.

"Do I have to wear a dress?" You wondered. "You don't have to, but I'd like to see you in one," Matt replied, biting his lip. "I'll be over in like fifteen minutes. In my sunday best," you answered before you hung up.

You put on an off-white, vintage smock dress that synched at your waist and had long, puffy sleeves. You brushed your teeth, combed through your hair, and ran downstairs.

You were greeted by a confused look from your mother. "Where are you going so early looking so nice?" She asked, peering up from the book she was reading. "To church," you casually said, resting your hand on the doorknob. "Church?" Your mom said confused. "Yeah, I made a new friend. I'll be home later!" You called out before shutting the door behind you.

You made your way over to the boy next door's house, and you knocked while you waited patiently on his porch. A few seconds later, Matt opened the door and his eyes danced across your outfit. "Wow," Matt whispered, taking in the sight of you in a dress. He thought you looked like a fairy.

You looked him up and down as well, admiring his black slacks and black button-down long sleeve. You admired his emerald green tie, wondering how it would feel to grab him by it.

He had a notebook in his hand, and you glanced at his long, slender fingers again that were wrapped around the cover of the book, dreaming about how they'd feel curled inside of you. "What's the notebook for?" You asked. "Oh, nothing. It's just my journal."

"Your diary?" You raised your eyebrows at him. "You write about me in it last night?" You bit your lip at him. "No," he looked away and blushed. "Well, what do I have to do to get you to write about me in there, hmm?" You cooed, reaching for Matt's tie and fiddling with it while you flirted with him.

"Are you ready to go?" He asked, ignoring your question and looking a bit annoyed at you. "Yeah, are we just waiting for your dad?" You asked, gaze still fixed on his black-painted nails, and your mind still fixed in the gutter.

"My dad's not feeling so good. I think the elevation change kind of got to him, so he's staying home today," Matt responded, nervous to be alone with you, but you stared at him hungrily. "Just me and you?" You lustfully asked. You couldn't wait to be alone with him. He sheepishly nodded. "Well, I'm ready if you're ready," you chewed on your lip.

The two of you left to get coffee. You got a frozen caramel coffee drink, and Matt just got a black coffee.

Since Matt was new to the area, he had you navigate the two of you to the first place of worship that came up when he searched for Christian churches, and the two of you showed up just in time for the 9 o'clock service to start.

Matt backed his truck in to a spot on the side of the building, and the two of you slipped into the church, relieved that no one greeted you or asked if it was your first time there. You guys wanted to avoid the spotlight and just take your seats somewhere near the back.

An energetic man walked out onto the stage and immediately drew in the attention of the crowd. It didn't take long before you realized it was one of those weird, eccentric churches where the pastor claimed to be not like the other pastors, but he really just seemed like he was trying to use God as a way to get into people's wallets.

The sermon given revolved around the first book of the Bible, the Garden of Eden, original sin, and the way Adam and Eve gave into temptation. The whole time, you just listened quietly, your eyes shifting back and forth between the man giving the sermon and Matt, who seemed to be in a trance.

The service lasted about an hour and a half, and after the closing prayer, you and Matt shuffled out of the church along with the rest of the crowd, and you made your way back to the truck. On the way back home, you sat next to Matt in the truck that he and his dad shared, facing the shy brunette boy while you mulled over the service given today.

"Do you think Adam and Eve fucked in the garden?" You asked him, breaking the silence and looking at him seductively. Matt pulled his eyes off the road and glanced over at you for a second. "What!?" He asked in an appalled voice.

"Like the apple and the snake. You think those are just code words for something else?" You wondered, chewing on your lip. "I don't think you should be talking about stories in the Bible like that," he widened his eyes at you as if you were about to be struck by lightning.

"I mean, that's what they're alluding to, though, right?" You suggested. "I-I don't know. I never thought that far into it," Matt responded, dumbfounded. "You think Adam and Eve liked getting punished by God?" You smirked at Matt.

His cheeks grew red, he swallowed hard, and he started wiping his sweaty palms off on his button-down. He looked so cute when he was all flustered. "You think Adam was a naughty boy and liked getting caught eating Eve's fruit?" You said, slowly parting your legs and flashing Matt a sneak peak of what was under the skirt of your dress.

His eyes were immediately drawn to the little damp spot on the front of your white panties. "You're all wet.." Matt whispered, wide-eyed, unable to pull his eyes from between your thighs. "I know. I can't help it when you're around," you muttered, parting your legs a little further and gently petting yourself over your underwear.

"Please don't make me sin," Matt peered up at you with his needy, blue eyes. "I can't make you do anything," you teased him, brushing your finger over the soaked spot on the cotton fabric. "If you sin, it's because you want to."

"You're making this so hard for me," he whined, his eyes dancing between the road and the juicy treasure between your thighs. "You're right, I'll stop. I don't want us to crash," you smirked at him, pulling your hand away from your special place and slamming your legs shut.

The desperation on his face turned to disappointment. He didn't want you to stop, but he was riddled with guilt and shame about the way he was thinking about you.

"Can we stop at a store on the way home? I need to pick something up," you asked him. "Sure. Just tell me where to go," Matt responded quietly, still trying to clean his mind of the image of you spreading open your legs and gently rubbing the wet spot on your panties.

You led Matt to a parking lot with a sex shop in the plaza, and it was then that he realized you were up to no good. "Why are we stopping here?" Matt inquired, his wide eyes shifting back and forth between you and the shop you told him to park in front of.

"Don't worry about it. I just need to go in for a minute. It won't take long," you said, unfastening your seatbelt. "Well, you shouldn't go in alone," Matt killed the engine and started eagerly unbuckling his seat belt as well. "Yeah? You gonna protect me from all the dildos?" You chuckled, knowing he couldn't protect you from anything if he tried.

Secretly, he just had never been inside an adult entertainment shop, and considering sex was almost all he thought about besides God, he was curious. But he'd never admit it out loud.

The two of you walked in through the front door, clearly both in church clothes, and the girl at the front counter greeted you by name. "Who's this handsome devil?" The cashier asked, motioning towards Matt, and he blushed.

"This is my new neighbor. His name is Matt. We just got back from church," you told her. "Hot. It's always the religious ones that are a little freaky," the girl said, eyeing Matt and biting her lip. "I-I'm not," Matt quickly said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, he's a virgin," you whispered loudly. "A-am not!" Matt defensively said, turning bright red. "We're not here for him. I was actually looking into getting a new vibrator. I like the ones I have already, but I just want something with a little extra kick, you know?" You told her.

"I have the perfect thing for you," she winked at you, and she started to lead you towards the back. As the three of you walked past the magazines and DVDs, Matt's eye caught the cover of a few, and he started growing hard in his black slacks. He prayed neither of you would notice, trying to adjust himself as subtly as possible.

"This is the womanizer. We just got a shipment of them in this morning," the woman held up a toy. "And this part right here uses airflow and pressure while it vibrates to simulate oral sex," she informed you, turning on the toy and holding it out for you to feel.

"Wow," you said, your eyes twinkling as you felt the sensation against the tip of you finger while you imagined how it would feel elsewhere. "You sold me. Which color should I get, Matt?" You asked, looking over at your cute neighbor who was still trying to fix the erection forming in his pants.

Your eyes flicked down at the way the fabric strained around it, you smiled, and then you looked back up at Matt's embarrassed expression. "Um. Pink, I guess," Matt quietly responded. "Yeah? Like the color of your lips?" You smirked at him, knowing your comment was going to fluster him.

He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. "Whew. Is it kinda warm in here?" Matt asked, loosening his tie and turning an ever deeper shade of red. "I want a pink one," you said, turning back to the sex shop worker. She smirked at Matt and the tent growing in his pants before she wandered off to the back to go grab you a packaged one.

"You come here so often, they know you by name?" Matt quietly asked you. "What can I say? I like sex. Sex with myself, sex with another person, sex with more than one other person," you chuckled. "You've had sex? How many guys?" Matt asked, sounding a little jealous. "A lady doesn't fuck and tell," you whispered, winking at Matt before the woman reappeared with the vibrator you and Matt had just picked out.

"Are you sure you don't want a sex toy recommendation, pretty boy?" The cashier turned towards Matt. He glanced between the two of you like a deer in headlights. "Uh. N-no, thank you," Matt studdered, wiping sweat from his brow.

The three of you made it back to the front of the store, walking past BDSM gear and lingerie. "Okay, with your employee discount, it's gonna be $40 even," the girl smiled at you.

"Thanks, Carly. By the way, since I'm here, can I get my paycheck?" You asked, handing her the cash in your wallet. "Yeah, girl. Of course. I'll be right back," she told you after shoving your crinkled twenty dollar bills into the register.

"You work here?" Matt asked, looking at you wide-eyed. "Just part-time," you responded. "And your co-workers know," Matt gulped. "That you masturbate?" He whispered. "Yeah, I mean, if they're the ones thinking about it in their free time, that's their prerogative," you chuckled at Matt.

Carly reappeared from getting your paycheck and handed it off to you. "See you on Tuesday!" You waved goodbye and left the store with Matt trailing behind you.

"Why would you embarrass me like that and tell her I'm a virgin?" Matt asked you, starting up his truck. "Sorry! I didn't mean to embarrass you! I was just being honest. Plus, some girls find it hot," you smiled at him while you buckled your seatbelt.

"Really? Do you?" Matt inquired, putting the truck into reverse and backing out of the parking space. "What do you think?" You narrowed your gaze at him. "I-I don't know. Is that a rhetorical question?" He asked, still bright red from the interaction with the sex shop lady while he shifted into drive. "C'mon, Matthew. Let's go home," you turned your gaze back to the road in front of you guys.

"Okay, if you tell my dad we went into a sex shop, he's going to kill me," Matt looked over at you with a serious expression as he pulled into his driveway. "Why would I tell him that? Plus, you're not going home just yet. We're gonna go hang out in my treehouse. Remember?" You reminded Matt, slugging him in the arm.

"I-I don't wanna smoke weed," Matt admitted to you. "That's fine. You don't have to. I'm not gonna make you. But I am going to smoke weed, and you can hang out with me up there while I do, and we can just talk. Get to know each other better," you suggested, staring at Matt's lips and licking your own. "Okay," Matt hesitantly agreed.

He followed you through the wooden gate on the side of your house into your backyard where the two of you climbed the rope ladder up to your treehouse. Matt noted how much bigger the structure looked on the inside once you and he were in it.

You made your way over to a bag you had stuffed in a crevice in the wooden-pannel flooring, and Matt's nose wrinkled as a pungent smell filled the air when you opened it. Matt noted that it contained a lighter, rolling papers, and several nugs of a green substance.

"You keep your weed up here?" Matt asked you, his eyes widening. He'd never seen it in person, just in movies and in pictures where teachers in school were showing him what to stay away from. "The devil's lettuce," he remembered church leaders referring to it at sermons.

"Yeah, my mom's one of those people who's in denial about everything, so if I keep it out of her sight, she can more easily pretend I don't," you snickered. You sat down on the floor with your back up against the wall, and Matt was directly across from you, leaning up against the opposite wall.

You started to roll a joint, grinding the flower up with your fingers while you watched Matt's nervous expression. "So, why don't you smoke? Does it make you paranoid or something?" You asked him as you rolled. "I don't know. I've never tried it," Matt shrugged.

"Why not?" You questioned him, licking the joint sealed as you stared into his innocent, blue eyes. "It goes against God's word," he confidently told you. "Where does it say you can't smoke weed in the Bible?" You asked, lighting the end of the paper.

"The Bible says you shouldn't alter your state of mind," Matt replied, watching the smoke from your marijuana cigarette slowly drift out the window of your treehouse. "But you had coffee this morning? Caffeine is a drug and a consciousness-altering substance," you smirked at Matt, using his own logic against him.

"That's different," he said, rolling his eyes. "How? Is it because you're one of those cherry-pick Christians?" You taunted him, blowing out another plume of smoke. "You're gonna get me second-hand high," Matt snarked at you, unbuttoning the top button on his shirt and covering his nose and mouth with it.

"You didn't answer my question. Listen, I don't care if you pick and choose what things to listen to or not, but I was just curious as to how you know what you're gonna follow or not. And you're not gonna get high. I'd have to hold you down and blow it in your mouth," you sneered at him.

The idea of you pinning him down had Matt's palms sweating and his heart racing.

"You get turned on really easily, don't you?" You seductively spoke, taking another drag. The end of the joint crackled while you inhaled. Matt licked his lips and subtly nodded.

"Naughty boy," your lips curled into a malicious grin, knowing this would drive him crazy. Matt hugged his knees up towards his chest to hide the fact that he was getting another hard on.

"So, tell me, Matt," you took a final drag off the joint and put it out. "Do you think it's a sin to masturbate?" You inquired. "Well, yeah," Matt shifted around uncomfortably. "But you still do it," you smirked at him. He silently looked at you, neither confirming nor denying your accusation.

"What's the difference if someone else did it for you?" You stared at him lustfully, testing him. "I guess I'm not sure," Matt softly responded. "Well, you should think about that," you told him as you started opening the package that contained your new vibrator.

"W-what are you doing?" Matt asked nervously. "I'm just testing it out," you assured him. "In front of me?" Matt inquired, his eyes growing wider. "Relax. I'm not gonna get off with it in front of you. Unless you want me to," you smirked at him, turning on the vibrator and running it across your palm and your wrist.

"Here, feel it," you said, crawling over beside Matt and placing it on his fingertips. "Wow. That probably feels really good," Matt quietly responded, imagining how you'd sound and look with it between your legs. "I can't wait to use it tonight," you whispered in his ear, gently grazing his earlobe with your lip. Matt's stare flicked up to meet yours while you ran the toy across his palm.

"Are you gonna think about me?" You were shocked at the words that left Matt's mouth. It was the most forward he'd been with you, and it kind of turned you on. "Of course, I am. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since I met you," you quietly whispered, your gaze dancing between his perfectly blue eyes and his full, pink lips.

The tension in the air was palpable, and you felt a magnetic-like pull as the two of you leaned in to close the distance that lingered between the two of you. And just as your lips were about to touch, you heard your mom calling your name from inside the house.

You pulled back, shut off your buzzing toy, and sighed. Matt was looking at you with a desperate and needy expression. You leaned in and whispered in his ear again, "I've gotta go. Text me. And when you write about me in your diary tonight, make sure you call me mommy."

part two posted here 💖

taglist: @bsturnzmtt @sturniolo-girl @munchingmini @butterbean-01 @coolasice01 @theyluvme-2315 @zariyam @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @new2024cats4life @witchofthehour @slutforsturniolosss @jaysturniolo @sturniolosweetheart33 @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @hrtz4alex2211 @luvhsien @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @karttpet @ssturniolooss @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @slxtformatt @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall @camzeecorner @mattsturnixlo @annedebeijer @scorpioosworld @mattlover-00 @sweetlikesug4rvenom @m11rx @sturniolocharms @mickelodeon-2003 @sigmarizzler1

[sunflowerwinds]

gentle touch | s.a

summary: you take care of sevika, jinx, and isha after the fight with vi and caitlyn. sevika, for the first time in a long time, breaks down when you remind of her that it’s okay to let go.

pairing: fem!reader x sevika arcane

contains: established relationship, fluff, angst, sevika needs a BREAK!, reader and sevika are lowkey parents now.

word count: 2.4K

a/n: i know i said yesterday i would post this but IT NEEDED SOME TWEAKING! i promise the next sevika oneshot will probably be smut but fluff was all that brain felt like writing <3

You had a gut feeling that Jinx’s plan would end badly. Even with Sevika’s repeated reassuring you that everything would fall into place and you two could finally have some peace in your lives, your strong intuition haunted your thoughts.

Oh, how you hated how right you were.

Jinx and Sevika burst through you and Sevika’s shared apartment with that small golden-eyed child, Isha. She was clinging onto Jinx’s leg, clearly infatuated with the deranged blue-haired girl. Your eyes lock on her fluffy head of head then those big innocent eyes of hers, noticing a little cut on her cheek. She whimpered as she followed Jinx into the apartment space, the elder of the two grumbling nonsense to herself.

Sevika's exposed skin was littered with scrapes and bruises, her chest rising and falling slowly. Your eyes shot to her exhausted figure, worry settling in your bones. You had almost forgotten about Jinx until you saw it out of the corner of your eye; her entire middle finger was gone.

Straight to the bone.

The empty space between her pointer and ring finger nearly made you gag out of discomfort. The overwhelming distress of needing to take care of the three had you lightheaded but you pushed through.

“Jesus,” was the first thing you said, walking up to Sevika’s towering figure to wrap your arms around her neck.

Your girlfriend tenses for a moment at the tackle of a hug she was receiving but recovered quickly. Her claw arm stayed by her side as her other found its home at your waist, pulling you in with a long sigh.

“What happened?” You mutter against her neck before pulling away to cradle her blue scarred cheek.

“The kid got in the way is what happened,” Jinx spoke up before Sevika could say anything as she trudged over to sink and twisted the tap, running her open wound under it with a wince.

Your eyes lock with Isha who is now staring at you and Sevika. You muster a weak smile for the child, turning back to your injured girlfriend.

Her eyes seemed… distant.

“Hey, Sev, baby?” Your voice is low, trying to get her attention.

The familiar gray of her eyes focuses on your own, blinking before shaking her head.

“We’re fine,” she dismisses.

Jinx scoffed from the sink. “And what do you call losing a finger? Just dandy, huh?”

Sevika had clear frustration written all over her features at the sound of Jinx’s voice, releasing your waist to trudge over to the couch. You watch her carefully as she reaches for the green bottle of liquor she often brought from the Last Drop and takes a huge swig of it.

You knew how defeated she must feel. Hit after hit; mission after mission. She was worn down and she attempted to hide it from you constantly. Her heavy eyes and dark circles underneath were a given to her clear exhaustion. She would get slightly irritable but kept it under control around you as you weren’t afraid of her as most were.

You were afraid for her.

“Sev, can you sit down? You’re bleeding.” You point to the cushions, brushing a few of your flyaways out of your face. “Don’t huff at me either. I’m not letting you rest until you get cleaned up.”

Without another huff or grunt, she does as she’s told. You hurry to your bathroom, rummaging underneath the sink in there to grab the necessities for the three girls. As you stood up on your bare feet and glanced at the doorway, there stood Isha with wide and curious eyes.

Your heart couldn’t help but soften at the sight of her little hat tipping as she was trying to watch what you were doing.

“You got a little hurt too, huh?” You question.

Isha simply stares at you, looking at the medical supplies in your hands. She was probably unaware of the droplets of blood on her skin.

“C’mon. Gotta get you cleaned up, sweetheart,” you jerk your chin back to the room where the other two were.

The child follows as you walk past her, her small boots hitting the wooden floors. Jinx was leaning against the countertop, simply staring at the missing digit. Isha immediately stumbles over to the equally exhausted Jinx, resting her head on her upper thigh and shutting her eyes in relief. You noticed Jinx’s pale back rise in tension for a split second before relaxing when realizing it was just the adorable child.

Her innocence was admirable yet worrisome.

You walk over to your girlfriend as you set the supplies down in front of you, sighing at her injuries.

“Sev, talk to me,” you frown at her zoned-out look.

“I should’ve left her here with you,” Sevika lets out an irritated sigh, rubbing at the bridge of her nose with her thumb and middle finger.

“Isha?” You question as you pour a bit of alcohol on a rag.

“Who else? She ran in the middle of everything. Got right there in between Vi and Jinx. If I wasn’t distracted with that little enforcer of Vi’s, I would’ve been able to keep an eye on the kid.”

As Sevika explained the situation to you, you carefully cleaned the scrapes of her arm and abdomen. The muscles underneath your palms flexed at the feeling of the alcohol seeping into the injuries. Your eyes followed down her toned arm, landing on the teeth imprints on the space between her pointer finger and thumb.

“Did that enforcer bite you?” Your brows furrow as you take her large hand into your smaller one in disbelief.

Sevika nods to confirm, noticing your tense expression.

“It doesn’t hurt if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You give a pointed look before shaking your head as you continue to wipe up the dried-up blood. She sucked in a sharp breath when you placed a hand on her upper chest, now inviting yourself onto her lap. Your thighs press against hers as you now tend to her face. Any other day you would’ve jumped her bones but everything in you just wanted to make sure she was okay.

Her hard eyes slowly soften as you lean in close to wipe the blood off of her sculpted face. She watched your every move, holding back the urge to litter your face in kisses. Staring at the curves of your lips to the little marks on the natural beauty of your face.

And she almost acts on that very urge until Isha takes her attention off of you tending to her as she hops up onto the couch. She holds back the grumble itching in her throat as you shift your attention to the child.

You grin sweetly at Isha’s awaiting expression. “Alright, Goldie. Come here. Let’s clean your face up.”

Her own small smile breaks onto her face as she scoots in closer to you, her much smaller knee bumping into Sevika’s. You lift your rag and dab it over the dried blood, watching it disappear from her freckled skin. Once you are focused on Isha’s minuscule scrape, Sevika’s palm reaches up to hold your exposed waist from leaning over on Sevika’s lap.

You ignore it for your own sake, sucking in a deep breath as you sit back up on her large lap. Cupping her adorable face and rubbing a thumb over the little cut before tracing the outline of her round face.

“See? Good as new.”

Isha holds onto her hat as she releases a soft giggle underneath her breath. Her big eyes glance at Sevika who furrows her brows in confusion at the child’s stare.

In the blink of an eye, Isha’s small arms throw themselves around Sevika’s neck and squeezes herself in between you and Sevika’s torso. You usually would scold anyone about having their dirty shoes on the furniture but watching Sevika’s panicked expression at Isha's affection was more important in that moment.

“Seems like she has a new favorite, Jinx,” you tease the blue-haired girl.

There was silence. You look up to see Jinx slumped against the countertop, face smushed into the surface as soft noises of slumber leave her mouth.

“Alright, kid.” Sevika patted her back as a signal for Isha to release her.

She refused; in fact, she even snuggled her small face into the crook of Sevika’s neck. Your girlfriend looked to you for help but you simply smiled, standing up from her lap. You lean forward to kiss her cheek before pointing to Jinx’s clearly worn-out figure.

“I’m going to wrap Jinx’s hand and I’ll take her to our room so she can sleep.”

Sevika opened her mouth for a moment but kept still on the couch as Isha kept herself seated on her torso and small arms clinging onto her neck. You try to hurry and take Jinx’s slim hand, wincing at the sight of the open wound but carefully wrap it before her reflexes kick in.

You didn’t want to lose a finger yourself.

“I’ll take her to bed,” Sevika’s gruff voice comes from behind you.

You jump at the sound, wondering how you didn’t even hear her get up from the couch. You turn to face her and hold back your smile at the sight of Isha still clinging onto her, her new mechanic claw arm holding her up.

“Are you sure?” You question, taping the wrap down.

Sevika nodded curtly and leaned down slightly to give you a gentle kiss onto your lips. You chase after her lips as you realize how much you have missed that feeling of her lips on your own. Her eyes couldn’t keep off of your own as she easily lifted Jinx’s figure and threw her over her shoulder.

You two share a look as you glance at Isha’s now asleep figure. Sevika carefully hands her tiny body over to you, making sure she is still sound asleep. You and Sevika make your way to the bedroom, your hand cradling Isha’s head and watching Jinx’s limp figure over your girlfriend’s shoulder.

As much as you enjoyed seeing Sevika be so attentive to the scrappy girl who she claimed she wasn’t fond of, you were worried about what was flooding through her brain. Once Sevika sets Jinx down on the mattress, you walk around her to set Isha down right next to her. Sevika stands right next to the bed, examining the two sleeping soundly.

“You can lay down too, Sev,” you hum, reaching for her forearm.

Sevika was silent before turning her head to look at your gentle touch on her scathed arm. You watch her brows furrow as she turns to your body, her broad shoulders relaxing. She lets you grab her hand to lead around to the other side of your bed. She steadily sits down, grunting at an ache that shoots up her spine.

You follow her movements and find your place snuggled next to her warm body. Her head turned to you and fell forward to place her forehead on your chest, her arms wrapping around your torso.

“I just… need you here for a bit,” Sevika admits as she inhales your scent that she missed so dearly.

You frown at the near whine in her voice as her grip on you tightens as if you were going to leave if she did. Sevika was rarely as vulnerable as she was at this moment with you. After Silco’s death, Sevika had to take over everything — not like she wasn’t doing most of his dirty work for him when he was alive. She didn’t have a her and it was draining the life out of her slowly.

“I’m not leaving, baby. I promise,” you tell her with consideration of her sensitive state.

“I said I would get us out of this.” Sevika begins and you shake your head, shutting down whatever bullshit was going to come out of her mouth.

“I want to be in this if it's with you, okay? Sev, I can see how tired you are, my love. You won’t let yourself rest and I can’t stand to see you slowly wearing yourself down like this.”

You lift your hand to take the elastic that was holding up half of her hair out, running your fingers through the strands on her tender scalp. Sevika lets out a shaky breath, clinging onto you tighter.

“I don’t want you worrying about me,” she huffs, voice wavering. “I can handle it.”

You sigh as you cradle the back of her head, sucking in a deep breath as your eyes fill to the brim with hot tears.

“I know you can. I just don’t want you to handle it alone. You already do everything on your own, baby.”

Sevika’s breathing was growing heavier and stronger, giving away how rapidly her emotions were taking over. The second Sevika lifted her head up to look into your eyes, you saw a single tear leave the corner of hers.

The clear pain on her face triggered your own tears that were building up in your eyelids to fall slowly. You shakily cupped the side of her face, watching her eyes shut at the feeling.

“I’m so tired,” she sighed, leaning into your touch.

You nod as you swipe away the streak, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“I know, Sev. I know,” you whisper. “You can sleep, baby.”

Sevika huffs out a slow breath, trying to regain control of her intense exhaustion taking over. Her beautiful gray eyes flutter shut, allowing herself to lean into you. You welcome her with nothing but love. You attempt to regulate your tears as you place a kiss onto her forehead.

“I love you,” you whisper onto the skin.

Sevika's arms relax around your waist, adjusting it so that Jinx’s creation wouldn’t be poking into your lower back. You knew the phrase was overwhelming for Sevika so you agreed to say it when you deemed it was absolutely necessary.

In the crook of your neck, she mutters: “I love you.”

You couldn’t help the next few tears falling from your face at her breaking voice.

She felt safe enough with you. Vulnerability was a struggle with Sevika but when she was able to release the worries of seeming weak, timid, a failure; you were so immensely proud of her.

You glance over at the two other girls who were sound asleep in the bed. Isha’s small hand held onto one of Jinx’s long braids and Jinx’s mouth was slightly ajar as her limbs were curled up into her body.

The steady beat of you and Sevika’s hearts matching with one another’s helps the two of you fall into a deep sleep.

TAGLIST: @breezy-sapphic @fict1onallyobsessed @fandomnana @cewl-casper @lovinglynny @archangeldyke-all

[atyourmerci]

☀︎To the light is to the darkness✩

Abby X reader X Ellie

Prologue to vengeance (can be read alone)

☀︎ ☀︎

Summary: Abby is your childhood best friend, you did everything together, taught each other everything. You were utterly infatuated with each other until Ellie Williams enters your world.

Warning: smut, MDNI, porn w lots of plot, innocence arc, mutual pining, lots of sexual tension, mutual masturbation (in the same room, together), fingering if you squint, useless lesbians, lesbian love triangle, abby needs a hug, phoebe bridgers as her own warning, no use of y/n, no physical description of reader

A/N: okay so holy fuck did I get carried away with this one. I didn’t want to leave yall on a cliffhanger but this dynamic deserves more and I don’t want to rush through it. I hope yall enjoy. This chapter is mostly just abby but there will be lots more Ellie in the next chapter promise :)

✩ ✩

“Someone you couldn’t lose. You said we’re not together, so now when we kiss I have anger issues.”

She asked when it had all started. The truth was you weren’t really sure. There was no definitive date or period of time that signified the beginning or end of it.

A relationship that felt more of interlacing two souls into one that resided in two structures. Shared autonomy of mind, breath, word, and body. Unspoken feelings, touches, and stares.

What started in green fields of pink flowers and brown roots ended in dark rooms and pining embraces. Hand shakes turning into interlaced fingers, laughter filled glances turning into tense stares, and experimental pecks turning into open mouthed pants.

The first time you meet abby was at school at 15. Bright eyed and bushy tailed still untainted from the reality of the world around you. You were quite shy in those years, keeping yourself away from the wild hairs of children ready to grow up and take charge. You were okay with the stability of childhood, the sticky sweet feeling of safety and uncharted terror.

Before Abby’s dad had died, before the muscles and long locks of golden blonde hair she was reserved too. Abby was wrapped in a bubble of comfort, a loving community that doted on her. She felt no need to join the crowd of chaos when she had everything she needed.

Well she thought she did…and then she met you.

In class you had your face shoved into a notebook doodling away of ferns and dandelions you had seen in the fields early that day. If it were up to you, you’d spend every last dying breath in the fields, soaking in sunlight and trailing your fingers through the rows of flowers.

Abby sat next to you in class, always too shy to speak up to you. You always seemed so busy, either reading, drawing, or with your head in the clouds, never truly listening to the lecture ahead. She admired your creativity, attention to detail, and the utter sense of unawareness to your surroundings. She wondered why you didn’t talk to the others, you were so inviting, so pretty. She once wished to look like you, how effortlessly magnificent you looked.

She grew too curious, over zealous at the thought of being close to you, understanding you. She knew she had to speak up.

“H-hey you draw pretty cool- I mean- it’s really good…what you draw.”

You had never taken more than a glance at the freckled girl until then. She always seemed just as busy as you, so you never bothered her.

You let out a bellied laugh at the now crimson red faced girl- completely embarrassed by her attempt at recognition.

And that was that. The two of you were inseparable, attached at the hip from then on out.

Abby seemed to understand your weird quirks and odd fascinations. Even when she didn’t, she was there open minded and wide eyed to hear your lengthy ramblings on about nothingness.

Sometimes it felt like you did most of the talking. Not that it was one sided or you wouldn’t let her butt in, but rather she was completely enamored by what you thought. Sometimes all she wanted to do was to hear you talk, you were her favorite person, the own mold of herself.

She wanted to think what you thought, feel what you felt, see the world through your eyes.

17

As the years went on you only seemed to grow closer to abby as she grew fonder of you.

Some could call it an obsession, the way you treated each other. Not a single thought went by that the other didn’t know. If you were there, so was abby. If you knew something, so did she.

Everyday she would follow you to the fields after school, your special escape you’d learn to share with the other half of your being.

You’d make her lay across the flower ridden fields so you could draw her glistening hair kissed by the whisk of wind. She let her hair grow longer since you’d ask to braid it for her every morning. She liked it short but she wanted to let you have room to make intricate designs and lace them with weeds you’d found.

Abby would playfully nudge you when you’d draw the hump on her nose in the drawings, but you loved it too much to not appreciate it. You loved all the things she couldn’t in herself.

You two spent hours out in the field daily, even when it rained you’d make her dance around like fairies as mud splattered across your shins. Anything you wanted, she’d do as long as it was with you.

That’s when you asked her to try kissing, she’d obliged.

“Have you ever…kissed anyone?” You ask staring off into the cloud painted sky, tall grass framing your bodies.

She lets out a breathy giggle, “no… you would know if I did.”

You shrug, shoulder crashing gently into hers, “I don’t know, maybe it was too embarrassing to say.”

She trails off, “h-have you?”

“No dumbass you would know…” you push your shoulder into her turning to give her a toothy smile, “what if I’m not good when a boy kisses me?”

Her eyes remained trained onto the pillowy cloud, “you can try on me- I-if you want to.”

It was a good idea, she wasn’t going to judge you, she was your best friend, she was only there to help.

“Okay.” And without a second thought your upper body shot up and lent over hers, pressing your lips into her plush pink ones. It was gentle, only a placement amongst the flesh, yet so charged. Butterflies fluttered through your stomach and up to your throat, something you had only felt once before when you and abby went swimming.

Closeness you thought. Being close to someone causes that. How nice it was to be so close to your favorite person, maybe one day you could feel close to someone again.

After that you continued to experiment kissing. At sleepovers you’d talk about the boys you wanted to kiss, then show each other how you would kiss them. It turned into an innocent routine, pecking her before she would leave, kissing her in the fields when you felt the butterflies.

You’d told her about them- the fluttering in your stomach. Whenever you felt them she told you that she wanted to feel them too. Transferring them through the soft pink flesh, she’d say she’d feel them after.

Soon she’d tell you when she got them, to which you’d return the gesture back. As time went on, the butterflies came more often.

People were starting to notice the relationship, started talking about how close the two of you were. You’d shoo off the irrational comments and over zealous accusations, but abby never did. She just didn’t respond.

“Who am I to ask for more? But you’re breathing in my open mouth. You’re the gun in my lips that will blow my brains out.”

18

Abby started spending the night daily, she practically lived in your room at that point. After her dad died your relationship grew stronger than ever. In such a treacherous time she clung to the only person who truly understood her. Many a nights she spent huddled into a ball in your lap weeping as you smoothed the hair behind her ear and rubbing circles into the grown muscles in her back.

Abby had taken to working her emotions out in physical labor. Now being a solider full time out of school she had grown muscular and more rough. Her heart was still the same for you, but had grown caged off to the people around you.

Her pleasantries for the rest of the community had grown stale, only allowing a few to get near her. But you… there was always an indefinite spot inside her for you.

Since abby was always around now, in the darkness of every night, privacy had flown right out the window. Not that you had minded- there wasn’t much of really anything abby didn’t know or hadn’t seen.

But when that eery sense of familiarity crept up, when the butterflies would come at night.

She had started out sleeping on the extra bed in your room. Before she had practically moved in she’d sleep with you, but since her stay turned to no vacancy she’d taken to given you the last sense of space, even when you hadn’t asked.

In the middle of darkness as the crickets chirped outside the window you’d tell her the feeling had come back, and she’d always agree, and the room would fall silent again.

“Abby?” You call out to a darkened room, illuminated by the shine of the moon.

“Yeah?” She’d call back from the other side.

“Do you ever…fix the feelings of the butterflies. Like make them go away?”

“Uh yeah- sometimes…when it gets bad.”

“I think mine are…bad right now,” it felt embarrassing almost, there was nothing she could do to help, fix your issue. Transferring the butterflies to abby only made them worse sometimes, and you were boiling.

“M-mine too,” she admits.

“You can fix it- if you need to.”

“A-re you going to stop yours?”

“Is that okay?” You say reluctantly into the tense air coating you. Every slight move felt with a million nerves.

“Mhmm,” she responds, a rustling heard coming from her direction.

Soft hums filled the air from the feeling of release you had allowed yourself in the presence of your best friend. Abby’s breathy moans would only follow quickly after your own, never before.

Dual release become a routine. Allowing the sticky sweet sensations of climaxing in the same bedroom of your other half. It became another thing you shared with her, another check on the list of the endeavors you’d participated in with her.

Talks of the butterflies and the unleashing of them never left those four chipping walls. Some things were meant for just Abby’s ears. All best friends must do the same. You’d never heard of others talk of sorts so you sealed your lips, a secret kept like a bird in a cage.

As you both had grown accustomed to the routine things gradually got more intense. Sometimes you couldn’t get the butterflies to fly away even when you tried for hours, panting out whimpers of frustration. Even when they would go away sometimes they would crept back in immediately, your body unable to be satiated.

Abby begun sleeping in the bed with you, to calm the frustrating unnerve you felt after no avail. She’d tell you she wish she could help you, make them go away. She’d do anything to make you happy.

That’s when you started touching yourselves next to each other. The routine was upheld for so long that it felt natural to do it even when she was right next to you. First fully covered, then in undergarments, to finally completely bare.

Seeing Abby’s bare flesh only made it worse. You weren’t stupid, the pieces were falling into place before your eyes. But you hadn’t seen anyone else naked before, maybe it would be the same. Her flesh so pale, her nipples shades of pale pink roses, and the hair that trailed down to her folds as golden as wheat. You had never seen something so magnificent, so beautifully crafted.

That was something you didn’t share with her. The drawings of her bare flesh. You made sure to memorize each chisel, line, and freckle to be as accurate as possible once you got to your notebook. With every piece of her revealed opening thousands of opportunities to draw her art. She was so fucking beautiful.

“When was the first time?” The auburn girl had asked you.

It all had meshed into a blur, what had happened and when it did. When you and abby had started sleeping together it started on opposite ends. Heat not close enough to sting your flesh but the air still tense enough to be cut clean with a blade. As time grew on and the routine becoming daily, the space between you started to close in. Knees brushing as your legs wavered, arms transferring sticky sweat in the blistering heat of arousal.

The inevitable placement of foreheads touching as you watched each other fall apart, watching the butterflies flutter out of her throat with every pant.

From what you could call the ‘beginning’ of sorts, rather an act of mercy, came from her.

You found yourself in the familiar position of unnerve. Rubbing aimless quick circles on your abused clit. It became a matter of principle at the point, needing to fulfill the urge even knowing the outcome would leave you more helpless than before. Abby’s butterflies were far gone, now rubbing lazy stripes down her slit in attempt to not let you feel alone. She never wanted you to feel like she wasn’t completely enthralled by your every move.

Your leg sprawled across her own, wide open, bucking your hips into the air as you let out frustrated grunts, eyes sealed shut in concentration. She just watched. She loved watching you touch yourself. Abby felt like the luckiest girl in the world getting to watch you, kiss you, feel you. She wanted to feel more of you, every atom in your body she’d kiss if you’d allow it.

“Let me help” she said, eyes trained on your open mouth.

Your brain was too fuzzy to even comprehend the depth of the act, so pent up and eager.

“Mhmm,” was all you could muster up. As her calloused fingers transferred from her skin to your abdomen, your body jolted up. You had never been touched by another. Not like this. She took her time running the tips of her fingers from your side to the mound, taking your hand and moving it your thigh so she could replace it with her own.

Something deep in your belly erupted when you felt her fingers meet your clit. A flock of doves released from their cage, a gasping goldfish meeting water. An exaggerated sigh of relief came out as a depraved moan. Every nerve in your body heightened by her gentle touch.

She drew cautious and attentive swipes across the newly swollen bud, watching for when your breath would hitch.

“You’re so warm,” she said studying your face as it contorted in pleasure. Your chin raised high, burying your scalp into the frilly pillows below. She had then studied the flesh around your neck, oh why had she never noticed that. How thin the skin was there, how close she could get to you in that space.

“I-it feels b-better when you do it,” you admit to her, water in her hands, hips grinding into the soft touch of her. “Y-yeah really?” She says, perking up, so pleased with knowing she could make you feel better. She’d do anything to make you feel better.

You let your stagnant hand run down her chiseled chest to meet her mound, her sticky slit pooling at her core. You meant to return the favor, an eye for an eye. “It’s okay- just let me help you.”

You shook your head in agreement, but let your hand rest on the pulsing flesh, you wanted to feel her like she felt you.

With every gentle circle she took you closer to release. It was so much faster when she did it. When you did it together before you would lie there for hours flicking at the raw skin to no avail, but in minutes she had you tipping at your edge.

Her strokes felt akin to the ones on your notebook, gentle and cautious direction, seeking a desirable outcome. You’d thought to picture this, able to recreate this on paper shielded from her eyes. What would she think if she saw them? Maybe you’d grown too fond of the other half of your heart.

“Abby!” You scream out, nearing your pending release.

“Y-yeah? D-does it feel okay- are you okay?” She perks up in concern, helplessly worried she had hurt you.

“Yes- Yes! It- it’s coming,” you pant out, body slick with sweat as your arousal pools below you. A sloppy mess of bodies interlaced with remorseless pleasure.

“Let me feel them, I want to feel them,” abby says inches from your face, intently watching the contortions of your face below her. The butterflies, oh how she wished she could flutter in your tummy as they do so effortlessly.

You cave shamelessly, pressing into the soft pink flesh. You try to keep them stable, but as you reach the cliffs edge you can’t help but moan pathetically into her throat. Your hips thrust into the calloused fingers, chasing the lasting feelings of her, escaping your doom and passing the burden through your lips onto hers.

You did draw of this, and every time after that. It became an obsession, mental images snapshotted to accuracy for replication later.

The routine increased in frequency and intensity. Exploring each other’s most sacred places. She would let you touch her sometimes, but only when she was touching you. Abby seemed more interested in your pleasure than her own. But she cared about you, she never wanted you unsettled. She wanted to be your salvation.

“I ask you how you’re doing and I let you lie. But we don’t have to talk about it, I can walk you home and practice method acting. I’ll pretend being with you doesn’t feel like drowning.”

19

“Does she make you feel them?”

She asked when it had all started. The truth was you weren’t really sure. There was no definitive date or period of time that signified the beginning or end of it.

Ellie Williams was so…vulgar, erratic, a ticking time bomb. The pieces of the puzzle connected at last when you lied eyes on the auburn haired girl.

She had entered the WLF as gentle as a bomb to a building. Fiery hot attitude, a chip on her shoulder, and drowning green eyes. At first glance she utterly captivated your ever fleeting thoughts.

When she first walked through the corridors of the stadium your eyes fixed on her, staring rudely at her every move. “Who is that, the girl?” You ask the unfazed blonde next to you, too busy working at sharpening a blade, “names Ellie, they say she’s trouble. By the looks of her, checks out.”

“What did she do? Why is she here?” You continue your glare, taking note of the pink scare rippled along the crest of her eye.

You had never drawn anyone other than abby, but the girls features were so strong, the strokes would come naturally in your grasp. A secret muse possibly, even from a far.

“I don’t know- stay away from her. She reeks of trouble,” she’d remark, finishing off the blade and leading you off to a pending mission.

You tried, you really did. She was so compelling, and you? You were a bee to honey. Was she soft unlike her features? Did she speak of the world beyond her? Did she like to watch the clouds mesh into unlikely objects? Did she know of the butterflies and their ever present existence in your lungs?

Your notebook grew of only her, the short frayed hair, the pink scare, the freckles that littered her face. So effortlessly magnificent she was, unknowingly your own secret work of art.

Until abby found them.

Related to this work

Song lyrics: casual , waiting room , cool about it

Moodboard

If you enjoy the childhood best friend trope with abby highly recommend this fic by @kieranscaren she writes beautifully and gave me great inspiration for this work:)

Taglist: @wishbones999 @bookpagecandlescent @littlegingerperson5 @lookforthelight1 @fict1onallyobsessed @shewantstoknow @a-little-bit-of-everybody

[dolicekiss]

Abundance Desire

PAIRING: Dad's bestfriend!Hannibal X Bratty!reader

CONTENT WARNING: smut (18+, mdni), dubcon, dark hannibal, age gap (reader is nineteen), mentions of patriarchy, unprotected sex, degrading, humiliation, spanking, impact play, messy kissing, hair pulling, perv hannibal, choking, breath play, exhibitionism.

SYNOPSIS: Your dad had always been the type to invite his friends over to attend glamorous dinners and everything you appeared dull, least interested in engaging with his old fellows. Too boring for you and always being told to be on your best behavior around them always irritated you but when another one of your father's guests arrive, you're left quite speechless. Handsome, charming and all the more enticing. You feel yourself drawn to him — but your bratty mouth makes things worse.

“Don't go around talking back to his guests.”

Was what you had always been told. The problem did not lie in you talking back to them, it was you putting them in their place everytime one of the old geezers commented about your behavior and how you were an exact replica of your mother. Your behavior, lack of discipline all came from her and you only wished to punch them in the face.

Fucking old people thinking they could get away with disrespect until you opened your mouth and showed them your true nature.

Today was one of those nights where your father had made your mother prepare a flourishing dinner, a grand one at that. It did not matter to him that she would grow tired, that she would sweat to the point of dehydration in the kitchen, as long as his fucking guests were content and full.

You hated them for that reason.

They could turn down the offer, but no.

You knew they were not at fault but you disliked each and every one of them.

Hearing the small knock on the door, your father ushered you to open it and you stood up from your seat, a big frown etched on your features. Upon opening the door, you were met with a much more handsome man that you'd expected. He was tall, evidently and his frame was larger than yours ever could be.

Hair a deep shade of golden and body draped in what appeared to be an expensive grey suit. His face carried a polite smile and all you could do was stare at him, enthralled by the amount of beauty this man possessed. The clearing of his throat caught you off guard, bringing you back to the real world.

“Hello, Dear. You must be his daughter.”

You nodded, at a loss of words. You stepped aside from the door, allowing the man in and he entered. In his hand was a black box and through the transparent sheet in the box you managed to catch a cake in there.

Precisely a chocolate cake.

Your favorite.

You almost smiled when the man handed the box to you, his fingers accidentally brushing over yours. It made you feel different, which made you realize how wrong all of this was. You couldn't be feeling this drawn to your father's friend — especially one that was nowhere near your age.

A decade older.

You shook your head, a feeble attempt to rid your head of thoughts regarding the mysterious man. He shook hands with your father as you eyed him, battling the allure this man had. Out of all your father's guest, this one apparently had the most grandeur dinner prepared for him. You did not like him already, as handsome as he was.

“Fucking ass.” You muttered to yourself, arms crossed over your chest and when your father signaled you to go over to the kitchen where your mother was practically slaving away under the pressures of a patriarchal household, you rolled your eyes and obliged.

Only because she most definitely needed your help.

Upon entering the kitchen, you were met with your mother who with the back of her one hand wiped away the perspiration from her forehead while with the other, whisked up some sauce. Her food was the best you'd ever tasted but this talent of hers played as a curse rather a blessing.

You sighed, reaching over and taking the whisk from her fingers. Copying her actions, whisking up the sauce for the goose laid before on tray. “I've got it. You should put the cake in the refrigerator.”

Your mother looked over to the black box you'd placed on the side of the counter and nodded, picking it up and heading towards the fridge. Just when you were done with the sauce, satisfied with its thick consistency, you poured it over the goose.

Your mother had prepared goose, beef along with shrimps. You were already starving and you knew she was too. Ever since you both had woken up, you were subjected to constant labor in the kitchen. Even after advising your father against your mother preparing dinner, taking out his guest being a better idea.

Of course the man was relentless in making his food connoisseur of a friend taste your mother's delicious food and rate it. Thus, your newfound irritation for the man was born.

Everything was done and when your mother fried the shrimps, decorating them beautifully on a pale plate, you were handed them in a tray to take outside. Your body was clumsy and everytime your mother would give you a task, she would also follow it up by a ‘be careful.’

You made your way out, thankfully wearing a short sundress which did not get in the way of you when you took the tray to the dining room. Your father's friend was already situated, gossiping about something unnecessary. You placed the tray down and lifted the plates, setting them in the middle.

You could feel his gaze upon you.

Upon looking up, you were met with him. Dark eyes focused on you, a smile causing lines in his cheeks and eyes. You quickly finished and walked back inside the kitchen with the tray in your arms, your platform heels clicking against the marble floor. Your mother was already waiting to hand you another tray, the second last and you repeated the same actions from before.

Placing the tray down — lips in a thin line, face stoic and eyes focusing on the plates you lifted. You were a clumsy girl and no matter how much you concentrated at a task at hand, you found yourself failing. As you picked up a glass, it slipped right from between your fingers.

The man reached over, to pick it up before you could, fingers brushing over yours in the process. “Be careful, Dear. You wouldn't want to break it now.”

You snatched the glass from underneath his loose grasp, placing it down on the table and smiling at him. “Don't worry, mister. I got it. This isn't my first time serving my father's rather useless friends.”

You'd whispered those words to him, with a evident fake smile on your lips. Hannibal was taken aback by your hostile behavior but he did not let it affect him — rather left him intrigued. You had a mouth to you and he enjoyed the mouthy ones, as long as they were pretty.

You had a certain allure to you.

How your hips swayed as you walked out of the kitchen, how your lips twitched in what he assumed irritation whenever your gaze captured him, bangs hovering over your forehead concealing it. Beauty had been bestowed on you and Hannibal was an admirer of art.

Even if it was forbidden.

Your father obviously was too busy smiling to even hear what you had said to his guest. You walked back inside, brought back another tray and this time your mother followed behind. Her apron untied and left on the kitchen counter and after the table was decorated, all of you sat down.

“This is a lot,” Hannibal said, very much impressed with the grandeur of the beautifully decorated dinner table. “I don't believe I would be able to stomach it all, really. You have tired yourself out, miss.”

You rolled your eyes but then, at least he'd taken his time to appreciate your mother's efforts unlike all the other guests. You still were not pleased with him and everyone began serving themselves. You watched as with each bite of the goose meat, Hannibal closed his eyes as if to really savor the taste of it.

“God, this is truly spectacular.” He praised, chewing onto the meat. “You are blessed with talent for culinary, miss.”

Your mother nodded, round cheeks flustered as she acknowledged the man's praise. Your father seemed the happiest, as if Hannibal’s validation meant everything to him. “Hannibal, I'm glad you're enjoying the food.”

So that was his name.

Hannibal Lecter.

You knew his last name since that is how your father had ordered to address him but his first name was unknown to you. Hannibal smiled, nodding his head while sliding off the meat from the fork, his lips puckered and plump. You swallowed, gaze lingering over the man's features.

Your father caught the almost empty glass of Hannibal and then looked over to you, placing his fork down. “Be a dear and pour Hannibal a glass of wine, girl.”

Your fingers tightened around the fork, placing it down and standing up. He was more than capable of pouring his own fucking wine but of course your father had to make you play little waitress — it is exactly what your mother had given birth to you for. Hannibal read your body language like it was an open book, understanding the annoyance swirling in your eyes.

You walked around the table to his side and grabbed the bottle rather roughly, aiming it over his glass and pouring the wine. In your anger, you filled his glass to the brim and accidentally spilled a few drops over his perfectly ironed suit. Your father gasped but Hannibal smiled.

“It is alright.” He reassured. “Accidents happen, may I know where the bathroom is?”

Your father, irritated, looked at you.

You nearly groaned. “I can lead you, if you'd just follow me.”

Your tone was venomous as you began walking into the direction of where the bathroom was, not waiting for the man to follow you up. Though his heavy footsteps were enough to tell you that he was right behind you. The bathroom was further into the house, down the hall in the corner and upon reaching it, you pointed at it rudely.

Hannibal tilted his head. “Help me clean this.”

“Excuse me? You're a grown man. First you fail to pour your own wine and now you expect me to clean this?” You scoffed at his expectations, losing restraint of your sharp tongue.

Hannibal stepped closer to you, locking you against the wall and you stared at him with panic filled eyes. He was too close, for his own good and your breath hitched. “Listen to me, little girl. I do not know what one sided problems you have with me nor do I care for it but you better mind your tongue.”

You stepped up, shrinking the distance between the two of you. “Or what, old man?”

He raised a brow in amusement, a smile crossing his features. Eyes locked with you, he stepped closer causing his chest to brush against yours. His breath, wine and rosemary, mingling with yours. Hannibal was not intoxicated, you knew that for sure.

“Little girls like you think they can go around disrespecting anyone.” He breathed on your face, tingles dancing over the bridge of your nose. “Wait until someone puts you in your place, then you won't be running your mouth.”

You laughed in his face. “Oh please. You're my father's guest, expect him to lick your fucking balls, not me.”

You tried walking away from him, but two steps in and his hand had already found its way around your arm. Hannibal pulled you back, your small frame colliding against the wall and a thudding sound broke through. A gasp fell from your lips and the endeavor to leave was proven futile when Hannibal wrapped a hand around your throat.

“Keep quiet.” He ordered and long gone was that sweet smile, replaced with a sharp look in his inundating gaze. “You're lucky you have a pretty face and I have an obsession with art.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. Hannibal’s grip on your throat tightened, watching as you struggled in his hold. Petite hands punching at his wrist, but to no avail. You sputtered and tried to inhale some oxygen but the man had cut off your air supply tenaciously, not allowing you a whiff of the air.

Tears welled up in your eyes and at this point you could not even call out for your parents, as Hannibal had constricted your vocal chords from being used. Your pearly tears streamed down, face evolving into a deep hue of purple and that is when he released you, pushing you into the wall from the force.

You coughed, tears and drool everywhere.

Your desperate attempts to inhale some air into your expanded lungs was deemed adorable by Hannibal and he expected you to finally show some obedience. Your hands circled around your throat, a searing sensation spreading beneath the skin.

Your body shuddered at what this man was capable of. How under the veil of politeness and gentleness lurked darkness and tenacity.

“Clean the mess you’ve caused.” By that he meant the wine on his suit and you nodded, rushing inside the bathroom with him behind you.

You ran a wet towel underneath a running faucet and then turned to him with shaky fingers, clearly traumatized and afraid of what he was capable of. He noticed the tremor in your fingers, how you missed his thighs by an inch while trying to clean up the spilled wine.

“There.” You said, tossing the towel aside.

Your brattiness still had not left you and Hannibal smiled, knowing it would be fun to break a girl as adamant as you. It was obvious that you only needed time to recover from the brutality of his grip and you'd be back to disrespecting him.

“You're so pretty when you're obedient like this.” He praised, reaching out to run a thumb over your chin. You froze at the touch, lips trembling and the close proximity made you quiver in front of him like some little kitten, lead astray by someone evil. His touch now was in contrast to his monstrosity, what he'd done to your throat.

It was soft, like he meant it.

Like he traced your chin to embed his mind with it.

You wanted to stay silent but your damned tongue. “I wish I could say the same about a man as incapable as you are.”

Those words caused the soft trace of a thumb across your chin into a harsh, searing grasp. You whimpered when he tugged your whole body forward with little to no force, holding you in place. You saw him lean in, with sheer determination to capture your lips in a kiss and he did.

No amount the struggle, resistance and fight you showed.

He took your lips like the pair belonged to him. Hannibal encircled an arm around your waist and pulled you into him, your perfect little ass pressing into his crotch. His lips savored yours, sucking and biting and all you could do was struggle against his bone crushing hold.

Hannibal had lost his grip on morality, if it even existed. When his dear coworker invited him over for dinner, he never thought he would be engaging in such sinful acts with his daughter. The same daughter he'd seen pictures of, shown to him and the other coworkers by your father. You were such a pretty lamb, perfect face and luscious hair but what he did not expect was for you to have such a foul mouth.

He pushed his hips into yours and you felt something hard, perched on the curve of your small ass.

The more you struggled, the more it worked to arouse Hannibal. His golden strands hovered over his forehead as he somehow managed to pry open your mouth, harshly entering your mouth. His tongue wrapping around yours, fucking your mouth and all you could do was struggle.

Sounds of clothes bustling and kissing filled up the bathroom but thankfully the water running silenced your sounds. Hannibal’s other hand moved to grab a fistful of your perky tits through your dress and he groaned upon feeling them without a bra.

Fingers pinching and twisting your nipples rather roughly.

The kiss, once broken, left you completely light headed. A string of saliva trailing from his lips to yours, testament to what he had done to you. Your teary eyes were wide with shock as Hannibal continued drilling his bulge into your ass.

“Please,” You whimpered, palm half the size of his trying to push at his bicep. “my father will find out.”

Hannibal broke from you, not wishing to raise suspicion. He left you deserted in the bathroom and made his way back to the dinner table. You took time to stare at your disheveled reflection in the mirror — straps of the pale dress loosely sitting around your arms and purple prints on your throat intimidated you.

Your skin was tainted and you released your hair from the ponytail they were in, covering the sides of your throat with it. Hannibal had put most pressure around your throat, not directly on it.

You pursued him too and found your parents engaging in a conversation with him. His gaze met yours, with a subtle warning as you sat down on the couch. You should've told your parents about the heinous act, but you didn't and you didn't know whether it was because you lacked the courage or because you simply liked it.

How rough he was, how inhumane.

The dinner soon came to an end and Hannibal was forced to stay back by your parents. It was obvious that he also wanted to stay back, maybe for you and the thought made your stomach flutter with butterflies.

“Delicious cooking, miss. I truly enjoyed each and every dish.” Hannibal once more praised your mother and she flourished, murmuring a thank you.

Your father lead him to the guest room which was on the first floor while your room was at the top second one. You helped your mother clean the table and washed the amount of dishes which had piled up in the sink. You took your time while everyone else went to sleep — your arms sore from the amount of cleaning. It was truly tiring but there wasn't much you could do. Your mother’s tiredness was written all over her face and you could not bring about to ask her to help you.

But at least now everything was peaceful.

You'd put on light music in the background to help you clean around the kitchen, soapy hands rubbing the sponge over the tray as you moved your hips to the music. This time of the hour made you the happiest — no one to boss you around or interrupt you, bother you or irritate you.

“Having fun, aren't you?”

Your feet moved, leaping as you turned around to face the owner of the deep Lithuanian accent. “Mr. Lecter.”

Your blood ran a little cold upon recalling the events from a fee yours ago, shoulders stiffening and Hannibal, an expert at reading body language caught yours. Your little dress was soaked around your stomach from the water being splashed, exposing your taut stomach.

“Burdening a little girl with such hardwork, you deserve a reward for this.” He walked over and leaned against the counter. You noticed the change of clothes — suit and vest long gone, only left behind was his button up shirt and his dress pants. His sleeves were rolled up to expose his arms and you glanced at the protruding veins embedded underneath the skin.

You let out a laugh. “Like I said, nothing new. I'm quite used to cleaning after my father's useless guests.”

You closed your eyes, knowing you'd once again lost control of your tongue. But you did not feel bad. You felt the man move, his ever looming presence towering over you and tou sucked in a harsh breath.

“Bratty little girl.” He whispered, large hands sitting atop your waist, rubbing up and down.

You whimpered at his touch, subconsciously pressing your ass deeper into his crotch, awakening his restless cock. Hannibal thought he had you, right where he wanted but he was wrong. You'd grown a liking to his rough behavior and how easily he put you in your place.

“Did you come here for dinner or to prey on your colleague's young daughter? If he finds out, he would surely be disgusted by what a perverted man you are.” You shamed him for his sickly desires, shaking your head in disappointment.

Hannibal’s fingers dug into your sides. “Do you take me for a creep?”

“You're worse. Probably have done this to other girls and now I'm next on your line. A woman your age surely would not want you, seeing how fucking desperate you are.” Your words ignited a burning fire within him and he turned you around, pushing his hips into your concealed mound.

The visible tent in his pants only growing and your breath broke when you felt him push deeper into you. His hand moved to your hair, grasping your roots and tugging on them making you wince. Your whimpered was swallowed by Hannibal as he devoured your lips, his other free hand tugging at the thin spaghetti straps of your dress.

Unveiling your perky tits to him, he broke the kiss and started to litter kisses down the trail which connected your neck and jaw. You tried to push him off, punching at his broad chest but god, you were fucking helpless and pathetic against him.

Chills danced across your spine, maneuvering path to your pulsating cunt. Your heart beat rapid, lips falling apart to let out the prettiest of sounds.

Hannibal tore himself from you, with too much power and in the heat of the moment dragged you towards the dinner table. He pulled out a chair, sat down on it and then bent you over his lap. You couldn't make much noise of struggle as you didn't wish to disturb the peaceful sleep of both your parents.

His large hands moved your dress all the way up to your waist, exposing your sweet cunt and bare ass to him. The cold air made goosebumps protrude at your skin and you cried out, trying to move away from his lap.

“Stop, please.” You whined. “Let me go, please sir. Leave me!”

“Shut the fuck up.” He snapped, striking down his palm across your ass causing you to yelp and flinch. “You wouldn't want to wake up your parents now, do you? Their slut of a daughter managed to seduce their guest.”

You pouted but the moisture in your pussy was proof that you relished this.

He slammed his hand back down again and the sound reverberated in the confinement of the kitchen. Burning sensation flooded into your skin as he delivered another tight slap to your ass, the impact forcing you to surge forward.

“Such a perfect little ass.” Hannibal compliments, running his palm over the fat piece of globe. Your skin was so supple and soft, it drove him insane and he couldn't want to fully sink inside your little cunt. From how you behaved, you were probably a virgin.

You winced when he squeezed the flesh and then went back to hitting you, causing your skin to burn a deep shade of red. Tears had welled up, and with each hit, streamed down in rivulets. Your ass incinerated and your cunt throbbing, clenching around nothing but emptiness. “I-It hurts, Mr. Lecter, p-please. I promise, I-I won't talk back to you again.”

“Oh quiet now.” He slapped your ass again, watching the flesh jiggle with force and his cock felt like it would burst open. “Your little cunt is twitching and throbbing. You're enjoying this like the whore you are.”

You tried shaking your head to disagree but Hannibal ran his fingers across your slick, glistening folds, bringing it to show you.

“Yeah? Still going to deny that you're getting off this?”

You whimpered when he shoved his fingers into your mouth, making you suck on them. Your cheeks full and round as he moved your hand, making you take his fingers and gag on them like some whore. You were panting, bubbles of drool all around his fingers and your mouth. Your eyes fluttered shut and more tears fell.

Hannibal pulled his fingers out of your mouth and grinned, plunging them both at the same time in your soaked cunt. You cried out but buried your face into his thigh, concealing the echo of your moans. The burning stretch in your untouched cunt was nothing as there was more yet to come. You writhed on his lap but he held you in place, fucking his fingers into you.

“You're sucking in my fingers like its a damn cock, little girl. Do you like it, my fingers buried to the hilt inside this greedy pussy of yours?” Even he was breathless and you whined, shaking your head but Hannibal knew better than to believe your adamant responses.

He curved his fingers, pushing them deeper and you sobbed endlessly, a mess you'd become. “P-Please.”

Your pleas had fallen upon deafened ears as Hannibal quickened his pace, with determination to pull a hot scorching orgasm out of you. His fingers managed to push into your sensitive spongy spot and your back arched off his lap, face cladded in foreign pleasure. His lips broke into a smirk as he repeatedly delivered harsh thrusts to that spot.

Your stomach tightened, thighs twitching and Hannibal figured your release was probably dancing around you. “I feel it— oh my god. I feel it, please slow down. Please fucking slow down.”

He didn't care.

Squelchy sounds paired with your muffled whines filled up the entirety of the kitchen, elevating the room with tension. Hannibal's repeated hits caused your stomach to tighten, eyes disappearing back into your skull and your orgasm taking full control of your twitchy little body.

It was all powerful, sucking the energy out of you when hot white pulsed through your veins and you unraveled right on his fingers.

Shoulders twitching, sensitive whimpers escaping your lips. Your cunt had gripped his fingers like a vice and he could only imagine what you would do to his cock. The thought drove his hunger, heightened it and when Hannibal pulled out of you, his fingers grazing against your wet walls made you whine.

He grabbed you, standing up and your wobbly legs made you give up. Lower body spent but this was merely the beginning. Pushing you up against table, he sat you down on it and parted open your legs to expose your pink cunt to him. Swollen, spent but still had more to offer.

“I'm gonna fuck this cunt of yours now. It'll feel much better than my fingers.” He whispered to you, hastily unbuckling his pants and retrieving his cock. Your hooded eyes enlarged upon witnessing the sheer size of his manhood — cock head leaking with pre cum and veins embedded in the length of it.

You shook your head. “I-I’ve never done this before. It won't fit, please. It won't.”

“I'll make it fucking fit.” He snapped at you, slapping you across the face. As beautiful as you were, the ability to annoy someone to the point of insanity was deeply rooted in to you and Hannibal could only handle so much. “Be a good girl and hold open your cunt for me, invite me in. Beg me to fuck you.”

You shook your head as you wept. “No.”

“Don't fucking test me. Do you want me to hit you again?” His threats made you reach for your pussy, spreading apart your glistening folds with your fingers and exposing the pink gaping hole to him. Because you had already have released, it only made you more sensitive and your untouched clit throbbed.

“And the begging?”

“P-Please fuck me, Mr. Lecter. Please, put your cock in me.” You were a sobbing, sputtering mess. Incoherent words everywhere and Hannibal realized he had truly broken you, not that it mattered to him.

He aligned his cock with your hole, looking up at you. “Hold it open like this for me. You only let go when I allow you to, understood?”

You nodded.

Hannibal landed a slap to your right cheek. “Use that bratty mouth of yours, baby.”

“Yes, mister.” You whispered, getting used to his harsh hits as brusque as they were.

Hannibal prodded at your hole, finally pushing his cock into you. He didn't let you get used to him, sinking fully into you and you muffled your cries by biting down on your lower lip. The force of it so harsh and potent, enough to draw out blood. Your hands ached to grab a hold of him, cling to him for dear life but he had not allowed you to let go of your cunt.

“Oh,” Hannibal groaned, chest rumbling with unbridled desire. “such a tight little cunt. If I knew he was keeping such a beautiful little girl here, I would've come sooner to attend his dinners.”

You sobbed, quietly, tears and drool making a mess on your face. Lips glistening from saliva as Hannibal buried himself inside your wet walls to the hilt.

“P-Please, wanna hold you. It hurts, please sir.” You begged, hoping that it would work to melt him and it did. Hannibal gave you a nod of approval and you were quick to cling onto him, small arms wrapped around his nape as he drilled his cock into you.

Rapidly thrusting in, hips stuttering and pelvis meeting yours. Your bare cunt made him hungry, a starved mad man who knew he would come begging for more. Looking down, he saw crimson coating his cock in the form of a ring — a testament that he had defiled a beautiful girl like you. Not that it mattered. He would do it again.

Both hands pressed against each side of you on the table, Hannibal used it to support himself while bruising your cervix. Your wails of oversensitivity were muffled by his lips as he drank them, his own growls a threat to this rendezvous. His pace was relentless, full of vigor and you could not keep up anymore.

Letting him use you like some toy, face buried in his chest.

“Beautiful girl,” he praised, heart fluttering at the sight of you so small in his hold. “with a sweet little addicting cunt. Can't wait to fill you up.”

You whined in his chest as his balls throbbed and cock head pummeled into your swollen cunt. Hannibal felt himself near, his peak around but he wanted to make you come. The second time, knowing it would be more intense than the first one.

Your stomach was taut — full of butterflies and your thighs convulsed in anticipation, heart pattering like wild rain drops over a stone. Your fingernails dug into the skin of his nape when your second, searing orgasm tore through you and your lower body immediately gave out. Loud sobs suppressed as Hannibal brutally took you like a hound.

“Sir, sir. Oh my god, It's so— I can't. Can't please.” You begged endlessly, forehead sweaty. You pulled your head from his chest, looking up at him, tits bouncing with each thrust.

He looked as disheveled as you. Shirt messily unbuttoned, not all the way, only a few buttons. Forehead drenched in sweat, golden ringlets glued to it. His lips panted and eyes shut as his hands found their grip on your small waist, drilling his cock at an animalistic pace at you.

Hannibal finally broke, reaching his high. He spilled inside you, balls hot and throbbing leaving you gasping when you felt his hot seed paint your walls. Reaching as far as your womb. “Yes. Fuck, oh god. Such a tight little pussy, a fucking whore you are.”

You were breathless and so was he, growling like an animal.

Hannibal soon pulled out, watching as your gaping hole sputtered out his seed. Pink tainted with white, and some remnants of crimson. You were spent, body falling back on the table.

“That was amazing.” He whispered, staring at you.

You were too fucked out to even say anything and Hannibal almost felt bad. Though he didn't. He picked you up, into his arms and took you to his room down the hallway since leaving you on the kitchen table sprawled out like that would put him and you both in trouble.

Your head buried in his chest, holding onto him.

This was, hands down and no doubt, the best dinner of his life.

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Of Lions and Mice

Leona Kingscholar x Reader

Reader is intended to be female

Masterlist

Leona was annoyed.

Once again, his golden goody-two-shoes older brother decided to shirk his responsibility of being a father and dump the overexcited, disgustingly bright-eyed crown prince on him for the day. And not only that, it had to be today of all days - a rare day where you were free from picking up Crowleys’ slack, where the loudmouthed, nattering extras that always followed you were otherwise preoccupied (and bribed to bugger off with a bag full of tuna), where he was certain he’ll spend the day in bed with you right next to him. 

But no. Just like with everything else in his miserable existence, his dreams were crushed and he had to spend the day playing caretaker to his nephew instead of wrapped up with you. What’s worse was that, you’d decided to carry the pint-sized load off of his back and gave your undivided attention to the cub when it should have been rightfully his. How he hated that selfless nature of yours, that sweet, caring, gentle nature that would make you look at anyone that wasn’t him with that loving gaze, that would make you brush your fingers through Cheka’s golden orange curls the same way you would Grim’s fur or the stray cats you’d find around campus or any other being instead of his mane. 

He hated just how loving you were, how your eyes could see the beauty in everything.

How, now that it’s late at night, and he’s closed his eyes and pretended to sleep in his attempt to actually get some shut eye and so that the little hairball would quit bothering him but Cheka just continues yapping.

Even in the darkness under his eyelids, he could feel you cast a worried look his way from the spot where his bed sags a little.

“Hey Cheka,” your sweet, dulcet voice (which is currently being used to please his nephew and not sooth him to sleep with the sweet nothings it usually does) pipes up, “how about I tell you a bedtime story from my world?”

“A bedtime story?!” Wow, even with his eyes closed he could see the stars coming out of his nephew's eyes, “yes please!”

Once the little cub has settled into bed, he asks you, “do you know any stories from your world with lions in them?

“Any ones with lions? Hmm, well, I suppose I could tell you about Narnia but I think you might be a bit too young for that and - wait,” you punctuated your words with a snap of your fingers, “I know a short one. There was this man called Aesop who wrote these short stories called fables.”

“What’s a fable?” Cheka asked, his words covered in that innocently curious lilt that all six year olds seemed to have during every occasion Leona wished they wouldn’t - and that was all of them.

You, however, seemed to have much more patience than him, “A story with a moral in them. Like, always be honest, or share, or work together, that sort of thing. I had a book of them when I was younger and I really enjoyed reading them.”

Figures. Of course, the shining beacon of sickeningly polite goodness grew up with such stories. He would’ve teased you for that but he had a child who he’s still trying to convince he was asleep.

“That sounds so cool, Aunty Y/N! Will you tell me more?”

“Of course, I will,” he can hear your smile, “but I’ll tell you them later, okay. Now, it’s time for you to rest.” 

“Okay, Aunty Y/N.”

“Alright so,” you clear your throat, “there was once a lion that lay asleep in his den. A shy little mouse came upon him and in her fright she ran away, only whilst doing so she accidentally ran over his head, waking him up.”

“Oh no,” Cheka gasped, “that lion is going to be so angry if he wakes up.”

Oh, so the little hairball does have a brain after all. 

“You’re right. Furious that he had been woken up, the big lion slammed a paw down on the tiny mouse and grabbed her by the tail. Holding her up, he growled at her,” here you made your voice noticeably deeper, trying to imitate a gruff growl, ““How dare you wake me up! I am the king of beasts and anyone who interrupts my slumber deserves to die! I shall kill you and eat you!””

It took everything within Leona to not burst into laughter at your adorable imitation of a ‘big scary lion’. It’s a voice you’ve used before whenever you tease him, playfully repeating the words his old self would have said to you, and it’s one that he’s rather fond of. 

He loves and respects you, Herbivore, and he’s the first to attest to your formidability and capability - even though you have the annoying tendency to not only blur the line between bravery and reckless stupidity but also play skipping rope with it - but intimidating you are not. 

“This scared the terrified mouse even more. Shaking with fear, she begged for him to let her go,” you make your voice higher at this part, squeaking in a way that oddly suited you, in Leona’s not so humble opinion, ““please, your majesty, I beg of you, please don’t eat me. It was only a mistake and if you let me go I’ll be sure to repay you. If you spare my life one day, I might even save yours.””

“The lion looked at the tiny creature and laughed, amused at how such a small mouse could ever be of use to an animal as powerful as him, “You? Save me? How absurd. You’ve made me laugh and put me in a good mood so I shall be generous and let you go.”

“Thank you, your majesty, thank you,” the mouse squeaked as she was put back on the ground, before scurrying away as fast as fast as her little legs could carry her.”

“Yay, so the mouse is free.” Cheka giggled.

“He is,” you said, “but there’s still more left. A few days later, the lion was prowling around when out of nowhere he was caught in a hunter’s net. Try as he might, he couldn’t get out of it. He tossed and turned, roaring angrily as he struggled to escape.”

“Wait, so now the lion’s in trouble. How’s he going to get out?” Cheka asked in worry. 

“You’ll see. Hearing his cries, the mouse followed the sound, recognising it from the lion he met earlier.

“I have to help him,” she squeaked as she scampered towards him.”

Upon seeing the lion in the net, she said, “hold still your majesty, I’ll get you out!”

And she quickly started to nibble on the ropes with her sharp little teeth, biting until all they broke apart. It wasn’t long until the lion was free.”

“So the mouse saved him. Was it because the lion helped him earlier?”

“It certainly was Cheka. “Thank you, little mouse,” the lion said, “I laughed at you and didn’t think you could ever help me but you saved my life.”

“It was my turn to help you.” The mouse replied, ”never forget that even a creature as small as a mouse can help a lion.”

And that’s the end,” you say.

“Thank you, Auntie Y/N, I really enjoyed that. Do you think the lion and mouse became friends after that?”

“You are very welcome, Cheka. I think they did. They did help each other, after all. Now I think it’s time to go to sleep.”

And once you were sure that the crown prince was asleep, you made your way next to your boyfriend, running your fingers through chestnut locks, “did you enjoy that little story, Leona.”

He opens his eyes to see your endeared smile. Rolling over so that he could wrap his arms around your waist he muses, “it seems awfully familiar don’t you think? A scared little herbivore wakes up a sleeping lion and ends up saving him later.”

“I’ll have you know, Your Highness, that I was never scared of you. Even when you were a rude old brute who threatened to knock out one of my teeth. And I’m certainly not little.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” 

He pulls, letting you flop down on his bed beside him so that he can spoon you.

“Sweet dreams, little mouse,” he kissed your forehead, “I hope you know that I don’t ever intend on letting you go. Not after you helped in ways you could never even imagine.”

And so the lion fell asleep, holding the prey who rescued him from the confinement of his past safely in his arms.