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k4vehrtz · 1 year ago

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⸻ NOSTALGIA !

. ✦ . starring — dom!top! nanami k. + gojo s. / m! reader

warnings — nsfw content / unprotected sex / alcohol consumption / smoking / consent check-ins / established dom+sub dynamic / light bdsm / 3some / oral / deepthroating / cum swallowing / fingering / double penetration / creampie / brief nipple play / exhibition . ✦ . wc — 2.2k . ✦ . notes — bdsm tag -> nami + reader's dom/sub dynamic is very heavy. vv special thank you to felix for letting me use his thirst for this :) <3 not proof-read!

cherry sweetness — the sweet scent of creamy vanilla with hints of ginger, spice mulled wine and pear invades your nostrils as soon as you enter nanami’s office. “glendronach…original, at least twelve years old,” you murmur, brows pulled together to form a crease in the centre of your forehead as you glance at the inconspicuous bottle of liquor on the mahogany desk. “…‘nami,” and there’s that pout, expresso–scented lips jutting forward in discontent, “didn’t know we were entertaining guests today.”

there are three glasses on the desk — each squared and stubby and filled with a deep amber–red gold liquid. definitely glendronach, you think and nanami promptly confirms this. “perfect with a rich, dark chocolate — like the ones you’ve been eating all day,” he answers slowly, gently as he glances at you over his shoulder, utterly unperturbed. “i didn’t know either, but — you remember ‘toru, right sweet boy? he decided to…let’s say drop in.”

and you absentmindedly nod in response, leaning forward with your fingers curling around the edges of his desk. “no,” he all but rasps as he sits back down on the plush leather seat behind his desk, patting his thighs sluggishly. near–silent disapproval. “i need my boy with me right now; fully.”

to which your lower lip quivers in response as you drag your fuzzy sock–covered feet towards nanami, straddling his lap with ease. an apology is hot on your tongue, replacing the comforting remnants of the expresso–flavoured chocolates. but it never makes it past your lips; not when nanami’s cherry–sweet lips lock with yours. he’s at least sipped the whiskey, you think, you can taste it on him but when you reach back for a glass yourself, he pulls your hand away.

“not yet dollface,”

satoru. he’d let himself in again, now leaning against the door to nanami’s office. where nanami’s voice was slow, almost sensual, ‘toru was faster; saying as much (or as little) as he chose to in the minimum amount of time. but you don’t linger on it, nanami’s hooking his finger beneath your chin, turning your head so that you’re facing him again.

“think you’re up to taking the both of us today?” he asks, lifting a thick brow over the rounded rim of his glasses. and ‘toru — never one for silence — quickly adds: “just like the old times? i’m feeling nostalgic.” nanami, though, rolls his eyes at that, mouthing, ‘only if you want to’ before dragging his lips against yours again.

his lips are warm against yours and when your lips part after being prompted by a gentle nip his tongue slithers into your mouth. your teeth clash momentarily — and only momentarily — before he falls into a rhythm while satoru watches intently at the side. one moment you’re swapping saliva and the next he’s sucking on your abused lower lip before pulling away, a string of saliva connecting the two of you.

“he needs an answer sweet face, a sober one.” satoru explains, rounding the desk to push the window behind the two of you open. and then goes on to fumble in his pocket before pulling out a cigarette and a lighter. he releases the flame, it’s bright, and he tilts the contraption toward the cigarette, igniting it and bringing it to his parted lips while quenching the initial flame.

your gaze flickers between the two men you’ve known since your college days. memories of heated bodies pressed against one another moving to the rhythm of whatever song glided around the room flooding your mind. and you swallow, adam’s apple bobbing in your throat, “…yeah, i’m feeling nostalgic too.”

rich, creamy silky–smooth and slightly nutty mixes with the bitter dark chocolate and expresso in your mouth. “black forest cake,” nanami muses against your lips, snaking his tongue inside your mouth once more. and satoru scoffs, blowing a cloud of smoke in your direction in the process, “black forest gâteau.”

and nanami, too caught up in tasting the whiskey and chocolate on your slick, kiss–swollen lips makes the conscious decision to not scold satoru for that. it peeves him though; that much is clear by the glare he retorts and satoru throws his hands up in surrender, cigarette dangling in between his lips.

then he kneels behind you, delicate fingers curling around the curve of your ass. “nanamin,” it sounds like a breathy whine but it’s the farthest thing from desperate, “d’you feel how wet he is?” and he stands up, startling blue eyes meeting yours, “…all this from a little kiss?”

mockery — his voice is thick with mockery and shrouded in the scent of nicotine. satoru’s mocking you in that same, banana milk flavoured sweet tone he uses. and your cock twitches — throbs in your boxers. angry tip smearing pre-cum on the cotton, forming the wet patch ‘toru had previously had his eyes on. it’s almost challenging — as if saying is this all it takes to reduce you to a puddle?

and you may be tipsy enough for your movements to reflect nanami’s acquired sluggishness but you’re not tipsy enough to be without shame. so, warmth rises to your cheeks and crosses the bridge of your nose at the implication. “no,” you drag the ‘n’ sound, your delivery strained and needy as you disentangle yourself from nanami who leans back, unfastening the buttons of his shirt before disregarding it on the floor.

“you know how he is,” nanami drawls in a low, matter–of–fact tone, swallowing another mouthful of whiskey. “eager and ready to please,” he continues, a heavy hand on your hips, guiding you to your knees to which you oblige.

satoru exhales at that, nodding in agreement as he disregards his cigarette in the ashtray on nanami’s desk before turning you to face him. and he stares down at you, a mixture of emotions hidden behind the blue of his irises. a groan slipping past his lips as he stretches his languid limbs before he speaks again, “nanamin is so old fashioned, don’t you think?” it’s a rhetorical question; he takes your chin in between his fingers, bobbing your head so that it appears as though you’re nodding along to what he’s saying.

he purses his lips and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t cross your mind to stand and take his lips into yours. you don’t though, it’s only a thought, nanami’s taught you better than that.

“but, then again, you’re just his softheaded boy, needin’ a big, strong man like nanamin to take control and fuck you into the mattress — or any surface, really, i’ve heard the stories.”

you swallow the lump in your throat (muddled words you don’t dare whisper), bringing your trembling hands towards the crotch of his skinny jeans. nanami kneels beside you, warm lips pressed to the shell of your ear, his breath pricking at the sensitive skin.

“slowly,” guidance, “just like i taught you,” whispered guidance.

just like he taught you, you slowly unzip satoru’s jeans, nails curling around the band of his boxers before you separate it from his skin and free his cock. and his cock is heavy in your hands, pulsating even. it’s standing at full mast, curving inwards slightly. where he’s lacking in girth (something nami has a lot of) he makes up in size and it’s almost intimidating.

“focus doll, you’re going to take all of me down yer’ pretty throat.” tooth achingly sweet voice — satoru again. and then there’s nanami’s firm warning, “a few strokes and then you can start taking him in your mouth, baby, don’t overwhelm yourself.”

drunk or otherwise inebriated, they still care for you in their own way. it makes butterflies flutter in your stomach, a warm feeling that pulsates throughout your body. and perhaps nanami’s current actions — he’s moved behind you, freeing your cock from its confines as he pulls your cheeks apart to toy with the bejewelled plug in your hole — contributes to that feeling.

the specifics don’t matter though. what does matter is the pleased groans that each stroke of satoru’s cock elicits. purposeful touches; alternating between the length of his cock and simply fondling with his balls. it’s enough to make him cum (which all three of you are aware of).

and after a few minutes — you don’t know how long it’s been, truthfully — his bright pink tip that’d been seeping pre-cum is spurting thick clumps of cum onto your hands and face. and when it does land on your face you gasp, breath catching in your throat. nanami had been timing it, you’re sure, because he cruelly pulls the plug out at the same time without warning. thus, resulting in the desperate, filthy noise that slides out of your kiss–swollen lips.

despite this, nanami clicks his tongue and shakes his head in that same near–silent disapproval. “what do good boys do?” and you answer immediately: “clean messes, not make them.” earning yourself a pleased hum from the elder man. his praise is almost like a drug in the way it gets you going.

with this new buzz, you slowly push your tongue out, licking any remnants of ‘toru’s cum before turning your attention back to his cock. slow licks at first — almost like a kitten, really. then you work your way up to taking the pink tip in your mouth, sucking on it, experimental licks now and then.

“good god,” satoru, who is by no means a religious man, grunts under his breath as he traces shapes on your hollowed cheeks. “you’re doing such a good job.”

more praise that makes you feel warmer inside. perhaps it’s a mixture of their affections and the whiskey that left you feeling as though you’re floating. you’re not sure but whatever it is, it’s encouragement enough to keep you going.

while you continue to take more of satoru’s cock into your mouth; your lips are practically stretched thin around him, nanami’s fixated on fingering you. it started with one thick digit grazing against your prostate with precision but soon turned into two and two then turned into three. and every so often you shiver — not from him fingering you but because he drips some of his drink over your hole. it’s so obscene…but every time it happens your gummy walls clench around nanami’s fingers in the way he likes. he really does know you best.

“i’m going to—” it’s a warning, but it comes out muffled and difficult to decipher.

“it’s hard to understand you when your mouth is filled with cock, baby.” nanami counters knowingly, a tinge of mockery to his otherwise coolness. and satoru laughs, shrugging his shoulders as if to say he doesn’t understand you either, before slowly pushing your face into his neatly trimmed pubes. it’s not every day he finds someone capable of taking all of him, and he will use it to his advantage.

so, you’re left like this; mewling around satoru’s cock as it hits the back of your throat, nanami’s fingers assaulting your prostate, and your own cock pulsating until finally, you succumb to the pleasure of it all. ropes of cum splattering between you and satoru while you gag around his cock until he orgasms for a second time, shooting his load down your throat.

it tastes something in between salty and sweet but you can’t quite explain it. all in all, it tastes good and you wouldn’t be opposed to more of it. but, as it turns out, they have other plans.

“colour?” satoru’s voice again, from above you, as he slides you off of his cock with a ‘pop’ sound. and as your chest heaves in an effort to catch your breath you respond, “green.” to which they both grunt in acknowledgement.

nanami — he’s got thicker, slightly calloused fingers — is the one to reposition you. bending you over the desk while satoru brings a half–empty glass of whiskey to your lips and you swallow the remnants of the liquor with ease. then he disappears behind you with ‘nami and you curl your fingers around the edge of the desk in anticipation.

which is, all things considered, short-lived. you can feel them, both of them, pressing the heads of their cocks to your hole. and your lips part, eyes flickering shut, as a string of moans slides off of your tongue when that tight ring of muscle is breached. it’s an immediate feeling of fullness — one you’ve only experienced with the two of them.

they don’t move immediately; giving everyone time to adjust and to savour the moment. the feeling of their cocks throbbing against each other as you clench around them is mind-numbing. no one’s speaking anymore, it’s only grunts and groans that border on being animalistic as each of you relieve the tension of your lives in your own way. it’s a mutually beneficial affair.

and when they do move, you’re choking on your moans. salty tears cascading down your heated cheeks at every creak of the table you’re lying on top of; hard pecs to cold wood. a squeal every time they decide to pinch or twist the sensitive bud. it’s nothing short of pornographic.

not grazing your prostate or touching it in one way or another is impossible like this. but somehow, they hold out, pivoting their hips against your ass until the only sound that echoes throughout the office is the slick clapping of their thighs against the fat of your ass as it ripples from the impact it creates. and then they’re cumming — hot semen pouring into your ass and being pushed impossibly further into you by way of their equally erratic thrusts. you’re seeing stars at this rate, and it’s only round one.

#x male reader smut #x bottom male reader #nanami x male reader #gojo x male reader #jjk smut #x sub male reader #nanami x you #gojo x you #jjk x male reader #jjk x you #nanami smut #gojo smut

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gloomwitchwrites · 1 year ago

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Break Up with Your Toxic Boyfriend (4 of 4)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: brief discussion of verbal, emotional, and physical injury canon-typical swearing, protective Simon, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

You might not be his anymore, but Ghost doesn't believe so. When you reach out to him, Ghost makes every excuse to come over, knowing that he can get you back if you just realize that you've always only been his.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // break up with your toxic boyfriend masterlist

Simon stands in the middle of your living room.

He is blood-drenched. Lead-hungry.

Full of venom. Full of fury.

His gaze sweeps over the busted television, the broken bookshelves, and the massive hole in the wall. There are bent picture frames empty of their glass. The photos within are either missing or partially torn. Whiskey stains the wall, running down from the impact point in little ribbons of amber.

Simon’s hands curl into fists.

This is so much fucking worse than what he originally thought. The living room doesn’t even scratch the surface. The kitchen is completely trashed, so is your bedroom where your boyfriend decided to shred up your clothes in anger.

Your… “boyfriend.”

That fucker should be grateful he isn’t here to face Simon. If he were, Simon would make him suffer. Make the prick eat his teeth.

On the phone, you were delirious, each word running together anger, frustration, and a fear that Simon felt in his gut. It sat heavy in his ears. That was enough for Simon to forget all responsibility and come to you.

Otherwise, Simon would not have come. You are not his woman anymore. That obligation to comfort doesn’t belong to him. It belongs to your boyfriend, but he’s the cause of all this suffering.

Why should you seek that bastard out?

No. Simon is glad you called him even though the circumstances turn his stomach and fill his veins with sludge.

He turns around and finds you lingering nearby. Your eyes are red with irritation, and your cheeks are puffy. Simon longs to pull you into his arms, yet hesitates only because you might push him away.

Simon unclenches his hands, flexing his fingers. “You’re breaking up with him.”

He’s not going to step around or sugar-coat this. Simon has always been blunt with his words, and this will be no different.

Your back straightens, hands clasped in front of you, fingers curled around the neckline of your sweater. “Simon—”

“It’s not a suggestion.” Simon lifts his arm, indicating the disaster of an apartment. “This is who he is. This will happen again.” He drops his arm.

Your chest expands. Deflates. “But—”

“Don’t defend him.”

“I’m not,” you snap.

Simon strides forward but you do not retreat. You stand tall, staring up into Simon’s face. Though your cheeks are stained with your tears, you’re beautiful.

“Next time it won’t be the wall or your television. It will be you he hurts.” Simon shakes his head. “And I won’t allow that.” You open your mouth as if to interrupt but Simon is having none of that. “I’ll kill him before that happens.”

“No. You won’t.”

“I will,” he growls. “I’ve never lied to you. Think I’m lying about this?”

Simon watches your throat bob as you swallow. He knows you understand. Fucking hell, he might be distant at times, even cold or blunt, but he never lies to you. Simon has always told you exactly what’s on his mind. Sometimes it has been to his detriment.

It is one of the reasons the two of you broke up. Simon didn’t want to end things. He respected your wishes, but even upon leaving, Simon still considered you his. The issue was with him and how he communicated with you about things. Emotionally, he was fucking distant. Not all the time, but enough that it seemed like he didn’t care.

That’s far from the truth, but Simon didn’t see any of it until you put it all out in front of him and decided to leave. Only then did he realize, and he did fucking everything to work on himself.

Fresh tears develop in the undersides of your eyelids. That’s it for him. It’s over.

Simon moves in, clasping the sides of your face with both hands. “Do you understand?” he asks softly, wiping away the tears with his thumbs.

You don’t nod or even make a sound.

It’s not enough. Simon needs confirmation.

“He will escalate. He will get worse. You will be a target. Tell me you understand.”

There is a sniffle before you speak. “I know,” you whisper, voice cracking slightly.

Simon sighs and wraps his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. You’re warm. A beacon of light in the disaster of a room. He leans in, pressing his cheek to the top of your head. He inhales and his lung fill with you.

With a final squeeze, Simon places a kiss to the crown of your head. He pulls back, but just enough to look at you. “I’ll clean up.”

“I can help.”

Simon shakes his head. “No. Sit. I want to do this for you.”

Your brow softens, arms falling away from him as you step back and glide to the sofa.

Simon tackles the bedroom first, shoving all your damaged clothes into trash bags. He organizes everything, making sure nothing is out of place, that it appears as it did before your boyfriend trashed it all. When he’s done, Simon returns to you, putting you to bed.

“Don’t leave,” you murmur, and Simon doesn’t. He curls up next to you, holds you until your breathing becomes shallow and slow.

Only then does Simon unfurl himself, slipping away. He doesn’t leave the flat. He shuts the bedroom door and gets to work, picking up the shattered glass, sending the television to the large rubbish bin. He orders you a new one and schedules it for delivery. He sweeps the floor and returns everything to your kitchen cabinets. Anything that is torn or broken gets trashed. Simon works through your clothes last. Sitting on the living room floor, Simon shifts through every one, trying to see if anything is salvageable. Most of it is, but there is plenty he has to toss.

Simon works until there is nothing left. It’s incredibly late, the time creeping close to the rising of the sun. Returning to the bedroom, Simon kicks off his shoes and removes the balaclava. You’ve seen his face countless times, and showing it now is normal.

When Simon slips into the bed beside you, and your body shifts, turning in his direction. He slides over into your reaching arms. The moment your bodies come together, you sigh with pleasure, and the noise goes straight to his groin.

But Simon won’t. He won’t push. This is not about him.

Sleep floods in, and it is your soft hands caressing his face that eventually wake him.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, voice harsh from dreaming.

“Morning, Simon,” you reply, resting your chin on his chest.

This is how mornings used to be. It sends Simon into memory and the days when he knew he was in love.

Was?

No.

Is. He still is. He still loves you utterly. That never stopped for him.

Your hands are not idle. After caressing his face, they move downward. The shift in your motions sends little shivers through his spine. They are visible and sharp. You inhale, and Simon begins to lean in. You mimic him but pause before your mouths can meet.

“Do you have to go?”

Simon captures one of your wrists with his hand, caressing the pulse point there with his thumb. “I can stay as long as you like.”

The smile that spreads across your face warms him everywhere. He wants to savor it forever. Your gaze drops from his eyes to his mouth. Then, your head shifts to glance at his chest and stomach. He might be wearing a shirt but Simon feels bare under your attention.

As your gaze returns to his face, Simon’s resolve melts away.

Fuck it. He’s doing this.

Grabbing the back of your neck, Simon closes the distance, pressing his lips to yours. There is no hesitation or resistance. You melt into him, and Simon has to hold back a moan. Every kiss is tender. Sweet. He’s missed this—missed you so fucking much it’s a raging inferno under his skin.

There is no part he leaves untouched. His hands roam everywhere, seeking closeness. Seeking your warmth.

“Simon,” you whimper against his mouth.

“I’m right here, love.”

You push upward, swinging your leg over his body, straddling him. Simon is momentarily stunned but you’re already returning to him, pressing you lips to his. He groans and grips your neck harder as your hips rolls against him.

“Simon,” you repeat, and his name on your lips is shifting him around, turning his insides out, revealing all his weaknesses.

His hands and your hands tug and pull. Moving clothing. Shoving bedding aside. When you start to sink down on him, Simon has to break the frantic kissing to breathe deep, to praise you in all the ways he knows how.

Your hands are solid against his chest. An anchor as you rock back and forth.

“Fuck,” he groans.

“Fuck,” he repeats, elongated the vowel as your pussy lightly squeezes him.

Above him, the air from your lungs releases from you in little sighs that creep into his ears and burrow in the folds of his brain. They are collected there. Remembered.

Using his grip on the back of your neck, Simon pulls you right back in, claiming your mouth. You open for him perfectly, your hips momentarily stalling as all your attention shifts to this one connection.

But Simon needs that movement. He craves it like the birds need the wind.

Wrapping his free arm around your waist, Simon flips you onto your back. There is no pause between the time Simon flips you and when he starts to thrust. It is instant. An impulse. A driving force that overcomes him.

Your fingers claw at his back, your legs hooking around the backs of his thighs, drawing him closer. If that is what you want, Simon will do it. Happily.

Pressing his forehead to yours, the two of you exchange breaths. The bed strikes the wall in repeated thuds, pleasure pooling in the base of Simon’s spine.

“Don’t—” You inhale. Exhale. “Stop.”

Growling, Simon presses his mouth to your neck, his pace increasing until his thrusting becomes an erratic, desperate thing. He hears you moaning, feels your pussy clenching down to keep him inside.

It’s too fucking much.

Simon’s own release roils up from the depths. His hips grind forward, creating a seal as he comes. His entire body shivers as one of your hands cradles his cheek. The touch is so soft he almost doesn’t recognize it at first.

But then you curl your fingers under his chin, guiding his face away from your neck to stare into your eyes. He starts to pull away, but your feet stay locked over the back of his legs, keeping him inside you.

Simon smirks.

He has you.

It might not be perfect or even solid, but he has his way in.

You haven’t said it, but you don’t need to.

You are his.

taglist:

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ladysharmaa · 3 months ago

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Wild hearts

Jasper Hale x original character

Summary: When a new girl arrives at Forks, she seems to catch Jasper Hale's attention. However, he and his family are hiding a secret. What they don't know is that Evelyn has a secret of her own

Evelyn and the Cullens were getting closer, especially Evelyn with Jasper. The family had taken her in and that seemed to be the biggest news at school. The Cullens, who had never spoken to anyone, had become friends with Eve in a matter of weeks. And that only brought even more attention to her.

Jasper would often come to her house to help her study and would also bring food made by Esme, who Evelyn had yet to meet. It wasn't that Jasper didn't want to take her home with him, but he already had to share Evelyn with his siblings, even Edward who had finally gotten over his frustration with not being able to read Eve's thoughts due to the static. He didn't want to have to share her at home too.

However, Evelyn had not forgotten her first friends at all, and made a point of dividing her time between the two groups. Despite being asked about the Cullens' secrets, especially Jessica and Mike, Evelyn never said anything, just rolling her eyes playfully and changing the subject.

She was now in biology class, Jasper by her side, extremely close to her. In fact, it was just to smell Eve's vanilla scent and not focus on the blood circulating through the other students' veins.

They were dissecting a frog, something Evelyn didn't really appreciate from her expression. Jasper laughed slightly at Eve's antics, who almost refused to cut the poor animal's belly. She handed the scalpel to the vampire, telling him he should do it. He accepted without complaint.

However, in the middle of the class, a distracted student slightly cut his finger with the scalpel. Evelyn saw a small drop of blood escape from the cut, and her eyes widened. Beside her, Jasper tensed, his jaw clenched and fists closed. He immediately pulled away from Evelyn and held his breath. The only thing that was stopping him from attacking was Evelyn, but even so he wouldn't be able to maintain control for much longer.

However, Evelyn didn't let him get too far, quickly grabbing Jasper's hand. She suddenly stood up in her chair, making a loud noise that caught the teacher's attention.

"Sorry! Blood, dizzy. I have to leave." She explained as succinctly as possible. The teacher nodded, looking at her strangely. She pulled the vampire with her. "Jasper has to come with me. To help me."

Without waiting for the teacher's answer, the two hurried out of the classroom, going as far away from the room as possible. They were at the end of the hallway, close to the exit doors.

Jasper, who was letting the scent of his mate consume his body, looked at her in surprise. "You know." he whispered.

"Surprise?"

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

Jasper quickly took her to his car, heading to their house. He received a text from Alice saying that they were behind him, having heard what happened thanks to their sharp hearing.

The two remained silent, as Evelyn had said that she would explain it to everyone at the same time, as it would be easier if everyone was present.

Jasper nodded, but asked only one question. "Aren't you afraid of me?"

"No," she answered with certainty. "You don't know, Jasper, but there are many monsters in this world. You and your family are far from that."

They finally arrived at the Cullen mansion, and Evelyn looked at the house in adoration. They lived a little isolated from the rest of the city, near the edge of the forest. The house was large, with lots of glass that let in light. The walls were made of wood, giving it a rustic and classic feel, perfect for the Cullens.

The door opened and Evelyn saw two people, looking older but still extremely beautiful with their pale skin and amber eyes.

"Jasper? Is everything alright?" the woman, who Evelyn realized was Esme, asked. "Is that Evelyn?"

"Yes, hello!" she smiled at the couple, letting Jasper put a hand on her back and lead her to the entrance of the house. "It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. and Mr. Cullen."

"Please, call us Esme and Carlisle. You really are as beautiful as Jasper said." Esme said, opening the door wider for them to enter. Behind them, the rest of the Cullens' cars had arrived and everyone was heading inside, their eyes fixed on Evelyn.

"What's going on?" the clan leader asked, confused.

"She knows." Jasper said simply, but never taking his eyes off Eve.

"Well, I certainly have to tell you the truth now." Evelyn tried to calm her pounding heart. "I wasn't sure what you were, because I've met some of your kind who were… different. But the pale skin, the fact that you never ate, all signs pointed to you being vampires."

Evelyn saw Rosalie open her mouth, but cut her off before she could speak. "Don't worry, Rose, I won't say anything. After all, I have a secret too. And I really don't want it to be revealed."

"You can trust us, darling." Jasper promised, taking a small step toward her unconsciously. He needed to be closer to her.

"I know." She smiled slightly. "I am, this is going to sound weird I know, but I am the daughter of Aphrodite, goddess of love and fertility."

"So you're what? A demigod?" Emmett asked, his mouth slightly open. When Evelyn confirmed, he turned to his wife, "See? I got it right!"

Rosalie rolled her eyes at her husband's antics. Alice was the next to speak, "What does that mean? What can you do?"

"Quite unlike the children of the other gods, I have no powers. I know how to fight, but only because I've been trained since I was three. Demigods, those who are recognized by their parents at least, go to a camp. There we train to… to kill monsters."

"What kind of monsters?" Lucas crossed his arms, bringing Alice closer to him. Jasper glared at him, when he saw Evelyn's face fall.

"Oh, not you. Another type of monster. You know Furies, Minotaur, Mimas, and the list goes on." She revealed, seeing the shocked looks of the vampire clan. "Anyway, I'm just pretty. I attract attention. But the children of Athena are smart, the children of Poseidon can control water. We all live together. And we go on quests to kill monsters and send them back to hell. That's also why I have dyslexia, all demigods have it. We are hyperactive, something that helps in battles."

"You're not just pretty. You're much more than that." Jasper quickly said, completely amazed by the girl.

"Thanks, Jasper. Well, on my last quest I went with my friends, but it didn't go well. I was the only survivor." Evelyn looked up to keep the tears from falling. "I had to get out of there. Try to live a normal life, for them."

The vampires looked at Evelyn sadly. "I never knew demigods were real." Carlisle whispered. He was completely surprised, as was the rest of his family.

"Yes, we try not to let anyone know. Our life is dangerous enough." Evelyn said, after controlling her emotions. What she didn't know, was that Jasper was helping her calm down. "The monsters chase us. They can sense that we are demigods. But here, in Forks, none have found me yet. I think it's because of the presence of so many supernatural beings."

"This is wicked!" Emmett exclaimed.

"So that's why I can't see what you're thinking?" Edward questioned. "Or because Alice didn't see you coming in her visions?"

"Sorry, what?" the blonde raised her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"Some vampires have gifts, darling." Jasper explained, now walking the rest of the distance to stand next to Evelyn. His amber eyes looked at her with admiration. "Edward can read minds, Alice can see the future and I'm an empath."

"Oh, wow. That's — wow." The vampire family laughed at Evelyn's reaction. "But yes, maybe that's why. What do you hear in my mind?"

"Just static. It's like a barrier I can't get past." Edward explained.

"That's cool." Evelyn murmured, her eyes wide. "What about you? Do you have another form besides your human one like the vampires I know?"

"No." Carlisle replied, his curiosity heightened by the knowledge that there were other species. "Are you able, if you can, to tell us more about these... vampires?"

"They are extremely beautiful and seductive women under the control of the goddess Hecate. They are known to feed on the blood of men. Their true form is a woman with flaming hair, white skin, glowing red eyes, fangs, one prosthetic Celestial Bronze leg and one donkey leg and wings." Eve explained succinctly. She remembered the first time she had fought an Empousa, it wasn't fun. "The demigods can see her in her true form, so I can tell your species apart. But I don't know a lot about you, we focus more on the mythical creatures."

"We glow when exposed to the sun. And we don't drink human blood, only animal blood, hence the color of our eyes." Evelyn nodded, already knowing that last part. "And we're immortal, of course."

"Same." Evelyn shrugged. The family looked at her in confusion, their eyes wide and eyebrows raised. It seemed as if she was discovering a new world after so many years of life. "Demigods are a bit stronger than a mere human. And we have a few more abilities. But we can still die if we are injured. At twenty, we become immortal, which is when our powers are at their peak."

"How old are you?" Alice asked.

"I'm nineteen." Evelyn informed with a small laugh. "My ritual isn't until next year. So now you know."

Rosalie was the first to snap out of her shock and pulled Evelyn into a hug. Evelyn quickly hugged her back, happy that there were no more secrets, or so she thought. Alice hurried to join them, the three of them giggling, while the rest of the vampires watched them with smiles. They acted like real teenagers when they were together.

After talking to the Cullen family a bit more, she and Jasper went for a walk in the woods. He was somewhat relieved that they had an eternity together, and that he wouldn't have to watch her grow old without him.

"So you can feel what I'm feeling?" Evelyn found the courage to ask. Jasper nodded. "That's a little embarrassing. I don't know why I feel this way around you."

"I know why, darling." He stopped walking, causing Evelyn to stop as well. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Evelyn lost herself as she looked into Jasper's eyes. They held so much pain, but also adoration for her. But why? The forest had gone silent, even the birds had stopped singing, as if they knew something was going to happen.

Jasper's cool touch on her cheek was soothing, and it made her stomach turn. It was as if every time the vampire touched her, an electric shock spread through her body. All rational thoughts were forgotten and she could only focus on him.

"We're mates. I'm yours. And you're mine."

"I think I need to sit down."

#jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock #jasper whitlock x reader #jasper hale #rosalie hale #twilight x reader #twilight #new moon #bella swan #jasper x reader #alice cullen #jasper hale x y/n #jasper hale x oc #jasper hale x you

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whispereons · 2 years ago

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Oracle!Reader Part 14

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 13, Part 15

Warning as usual. There is blood and gore in this chapter!

Staring up at the Archon parading around in human form, you lick your lips and note how even those minor injuries were healed. Your body aches with phantom pain, some wounds healed too rapidly.

"I don't mind answering some questions, can I get your name first?"

A small smile plays at his lips as his hand is held out in front of you. "My name is Zhongli, I'm the Funeral Parlors consultant. It would be a pleasure to hear yours, outlander."

So he is aware of your origin, well at least partly aware. If he's not going to pull any punches then why should you? Besides if it all goes wrong, you can blame it on the bloodloss that you're still recovering from.

"I'm Y/N, and you're correct that I do not originate from this world. You must not be a normal person either, in fact you look identical to this statue. This one portrays Morax the Geo Archon, but I'm sure you know that, Rex Lapis."

Getting a good look at the statue from your proximity, it was obvious that Zhongli was Morax. You could make the excuse of it being game logic on why no one makes the connection, but that wouldn't work anymore. Maybe the statues are imbued with power that prevents anyone from this world to recognize the similarities?

"So it seems you are more knowledgeable than the traveler was when they arrived here. I should have known considering how the Electro and Geo particles surround you with zeal. Perhaps Teyvat is charmed by the features you share with the Holy One."

His step forward and angled head to look you in the eyes have you staring at glowing amber hues. The red eyeliner and outlined iris make it uncomfortably clear how intensely he's examining you.

"The curve of your lips, a stature so familiar, you resemble the creator so much. Teyvat must be bewitched and awed by an individual so alike as you. If only I could see your face in it's full visage, only then would I know for sure..."

Anyone would feel flattered or embarrassed with how seriously Zhongli studies you, but dread is the only thing you feel. You know that behind those honey-coated words is a trap just waiting for you to spring.

Too bad for him; the last thing you plan to be is predictable.

"My, my what a compliment! A devout and faithful follower like yourself is comparing me to the creator? You should pray for forgiveness to the merciful creator. I'm a servant for them, just in a different league than you. My connection with them is strong enough that Teyvat graces me with qualities alike yet inferior to the Everlasting One."

Zhongli returned to his perfect posture at your words, the flash of envy couldn't hide. "Oh?" Narrowed eyes and a lofty tone that encourages you to smile wider. "And what position could an outsider like you hold?"

"Well, as an Oracle of course! Really, just how dumb are you? An outlander that is incredibly knowledgeable of the Creator? It's painfully obvious." There's no reaction to your test insults, which is fine that wasn't the last you had in store.

"I'm from the world that the Creator is recuperating in. It's due to that, that I can speak to them much more freely than everyone here. Even Teyvat pales in comparison. That's why Teyvat is so attached to me, my aura is overwhelmed by the creators."

Honestly, you had Chongyun to thank for that one. You weren't sure how you were supposed to explain the whole Teyvat clinging to you without sounding repetitive. But if Zhongli was that easily fooled, he wouldn't be one of the victors of the Archon war.

"Then enlighten me on why the glorious creator would need an Oracle of your caliber to spread their word. Surely that's the least you can do." He's fully dropped that faux-polite tone in contrast to the technically proper speech.

"Gladly! It's become common knowledge that the elemental monsters and animals have started to act strangely. Add in the leylines that change from out of control to perfectly calm in a matter of minutes or weeks. These are all signs of the Creator's upcoming appearance! They need to be sure of who in this vast land they can properly trust."

"That still doesn't explain why you in particular were chosen. A wily and fresh child like you wouldn't do the best job." Hard like stone, Zhongli refused to even blink at your words. A god like himself would never falter after thousands of years spent perfecting his worship.

But did he really have to insult you at the same time?

"So you refuse to believe it because of my supposed inability to properly carry out any duties assigned to me? You don't even know all that I had done to arrive here! Surely you should know just how rough the waters were..."

The hand that covers your mouth does a poor job of covering the sly smile. Zhongli stares at you in silence, the wind swaying around the floating chunk of rock that you both stand on.

"Just what are you trying to imply?" His voice is as soft as a whisper but cutting like the sharpest steel.

"Why explain it when I can show it?" Silently rejoicing at such a convenient set up, you peer into your bag and grab the item you've been saving.

Shimmering brightly in the harsh glares of the sun is Beisht's scale, still in pristine condition despite your perilous journey since that day you got it from the sea-leviathan.

It feels like ages ago. Just how much time has passed since you arrived on Teyvat? How much more time will you spend in situations like this? Weeks? Months? YEARS?

The existential dread is quickly pushed away by your beaming smile at Zhongli's reaction to the singular item. The rocky exterior finally breaks at the proof of your 'abilities'. His lips part at the bright teal color and he blinks incredulously at it.

Really, how could you pass up the chance to rub it in?

"Surely a human of my caliber would be capable of this much. I mean, a perfectly intact scale from a leviathan that managed to avoid the whole Qixing that isn't dyed in blood? Child's play for a servant specifically chosen by the Creator. I never doubted the creators' choices!"

Holding the scale in front of you, you smirk at the man with as much snark as you hold in your heart. "The same can't be said for you, Mr. 'That still doesn't explain why you in particular were chosen.' Because the Creator is capable of choosing anyone they want, for whatever reason they desire."

Silence envelopes the area as you stare at him, a beat passes with no movement until a gruff chuckle leaves him.

"The more you speak, the closer I come to a conclusion." Recovering quickly, Zhongli's gloved hand rises to tap his mouth contemplatively. "You're either something far worse than I've seen in a long time, or a hope for the Creator's return."

That white outline around his iris seems to spin with the malicious joy that he refuses to show. It's like his body screams that he'll either enjoy your presence or your destruction. Nerves and anxiety grip your heart but ignoring it has always worked better for you.

"Maybe I can say the same thing about you considering your past, but I see you still aren't convinced. And how could I ever let you, one of the longest standing worshippers, have doubts about me? So tell me, were Beisht and her husband devout or sacrilegious beings?"

The answer he'll say is obvious, not only because you hold such a confident stance showing that you know the answer but because of Zhongli himself. A noble dragon that willingly bows to someone would feel ashamed at the thought of resorting to lying to boost his own pride.

Quite ironic how you hold so much trust in his answer due to the acolytes' faith in the creator. The same faith that led you to this position, and the same thing that'll keep you from ever exposing the truth of your identity. A constant force preventing them from meeting their 'beloved' creator.

"You met Beisht in the flesh, there's no doubt that she is solemn and serious in her worship. The same can be said for Osial, it was one of the few things I could agree with the leviathan. Even still, I'm the superior believer. After all, I'm the one who is left after all this time."

"Yet I met Beisht before you."

The scoff and know-it-all tone he used pricked at your nerves long enough to cause an annoyed response to slip out. Unfortunately, that seems to be what Zhongli was baiting for as he laughs, the low sound making the rock platform tremble.

"That's if you're even an Oracle. You may be from that world and even heard about Teyvat from the Creator, but for all I know, you could have been banished here for us acolytes to execute. Whether it be for avenging the Creator or entertaining them."

Damn, it was almost scary how fast he turned the situation around. But how could you falter now? Getting tongue-tied at such a crucial moment would be a pathetic way to lose your life.

"And what will you do if I truly am an Oracle? When the creator's return is delayed months, years or even decades due to your rash actions, what will you tell the creator when confronted with the consequences of your own actions?"

"Then you should work hard enough to prove to skeptics like myself. To put blind faith in whatever is dubbed the creator's is a fool's belief. Temptation and sin ravage Teyvat from the long drought of the Creator's presence."

For a split second, sorrow clouded his eyes. He's hiding something. It’s important and you can feel it in your soul. The only thing that really stains his and Venti's reputation is their war with Khaenri'ah. It must be connected to that.

But it's too early to try digging in for information on that. He doesn't even believe you to be the Oracle, how could you possibly get that out of him? What if he's under a contract and must stay silent on the matter?

Lost in his memories, Zhongli doesn't realize how your face pinches in frustration. You'll have to get his approval as the Oracle before you can even-

Oh.

Oh, why didn't you realize this before?

A grin spreads across your face as you circle in on the heart of the problem and the perfect way to fix it.

It's not that Zhongli doesn't believe you to be the creator's Oracle, he just doesn't want to believe it! He's envious: envious of why a random outlander like you got such a nice position in comparison to him who probably spent most of his life molding himself to the creators standards.

All that's left is to reel him in and you know the perfect way how.

"Prove myself? I've done plenty to prove myself, but what about you?" Mockingly, you tilt your head as your empty gaze peers into Zhongli's eyes, digging deep into him. He focuses back on the conversation at your shift in tone.

"If anyone should have to prove themselves, it should be you." This time it's you who takes the bold step forward. "Let's start at the beginning, shall we? And try to keep in that temper too so that I can finish my words. A dragon your age should know such simple things."

"As Morax you were quite powerful, though a brute to be completely honest. Still, you knew your limits well and paired up with the Lord of Dust before the Archon War, who served as the 'brain'. Tell me, just how did it feel when you found her as nothing more than a statue that day?"

Your words have a strong effect on the imposing man, his fist trembling at the mention of such a beloved god, one whose death still pains him. Paying no mind to his pain you ask the monumental question.

"Just how much resentment do you hold against the Creator for her death?"

A hand slams you against the Statue hard enough to bruise your skin. It doesn't squeeze around your throat but there's no need to as the Geo begins to petrify your legs, locking you in place. The Statue is in a constant state of healing in defense to the bruises on your neck.

"Just what are you trying to imply by saying that?" Cold and apathetic is the voice that flows from the stoic man. It's what you would imagine Morax would sound like before Guizhong taught him how to care for humans.

"C'mon, that's the second time you've asked me that. Don't make me speak the obvious-" A shuddering gasp leaves you as he tightens his grip. But it's gone just as fast; a flock of birds tackle Zhongli.

You can only watch in shock as what was only 4 to 5 birds grow to become at least 15 birds of all kinds attacking him. The throbbing of your neck being healed as the Geo instantly releases you is overshadowed by Zhongli swatting at the birds as he takes continuous steps back.

But that's all it took for Zhongli to fall off the edge as the birds flew away cawing happily. Standing and staring at the spot where Zhongli fell off in shock, you begin to chuckle. It grows to a giggle before you're laughing hysterically as you buckle to the ground. Loud peels of laughter ring around the area as you hold your stomach from the ache of laughing so much.

To think Teyvat took the initiative to help you out for once. Why couldn't it do it sooner? Was it only after gaining some power from activating a new nations statue of the seven that it could? You couldn't focus on the question anymore as the look on Zhongli's face when he fell came to mind again.

The sight of his eyes blown wide and a split second of pure panic sent you straight back into a fit of laughter. The ground far below you shakes as a Geo pillar constructs a bridge high enough to reach the stone you sat on.

The sound of footsteps make you open your eyes and giggle at the sight of a disheveled and annoyed Zhongli. Annoyed is still an improvement compared to his enraged state earlier. With giggles slipping out, you stand back up and laugh louder at his appearance in full view.

His hair was pulled out of his rattail with his earrings nowhere to be seen. Bits and pieces of the weaker cloth of his suit were missing, giving him a poor look that didn't match his flawless posture. The red marks and light cuts only added to the joy you feel at his expense.

"Are you finished laughing, Y/N?"

"For now at least. I would suggest buying a new set of clothes but I don't think you have the mora for it!" Zhongli only lets out a long-suffering sigh as you crack up again.

You would be scolding yourself for not taking the chance to escape while he was away but it was better this way. You didn't need the information about Khaenri'ah, it was nice to know but the information wouldn't help you live.

The main reason you stayed was because running away would prove Zhongli right to be suspicious about you. It would let him know that you're scared and have something to hide. Plus, that would mean having to escape Liyue the same way you did Ei, just in a worse situation.

That's not something you want to repeat.

"Alright I'm done laughing." You say while wiping off the budding tears from the corner of your eyes. Zhongli sends you a look that screams that he doesn't believe you but you shrug it off.

"Really, that question was more of a test if you will. My main job is simply to see who the Creator can trust. Your relationship with the Creator beyond that is between you and them."

The calm and peaceful tone you use is such a contrast to the one you used earlier that Zhongli is clearly apprehensive. Paying it no mind you continue to speak.

"If you truly want a reason to at least try and believe me to be the oracle even if you don't fully believe me, then I'll give you one. I'm sure you still have the stone dumbbell from Guizhong that you've never been able to open. I know how to open it."

Those last words have Zhongli staring at you intensely as you gaze off into the distance. The Dragon-Queller tree is visible through the fog with its glowing blue branches and yellow leaves.

"How?" He breathes out, scared to trust but scared to lose this opportunity too.

"It requires a naturally grown glaze lily cultivated by the Creator. That's because it requires a 'pure' glaze lily and the only one who can grow such a thing at this day and age is the Creator. All the natural glaze lilies have died after all."

Zhongli's shoulders slump at your words. It seems he started to let his guard down after he fell off. He must no longer view you as a threat or, at most, an annoyance. That's okay with you, underestimation is the most useful viewpoint they could have for you.

"Should I even make an attempt to ask you why it can only be unlocked with that? You're only telling me this as a last resort to keep you alive, correct? Even if I told you that I would keep you alive without that information, you wouldn't believe me. As childish as you may be, foolishness does not seem to be a quality you hold."

"That may be true, but if you really want an answer to that first question then I'll tell you." You look over to lock eyes with him and smile. It conceals every sneaky and vicious thought you hold. "I have no clue. The Creator instructed me to use it as a last resort, if you want that answer then try praying. Perhaps you'll get an answer."

You would like to know the answer to the stone dumbbell too. After all, you only made up the solution! Seeing as Zhongli spent all these years after Guizhong's death, failing to unlock it, it's a good bet that it'll never open.

It's silent as you both get lost in your own thoughts. Unlike before it wasn't tense, it was more comparable to the silence you would spend alone in your apartment. The nights you would only be accompanied by the thoughts of the 'what-if' situations. Thoughts that would only stay thoughts just as the past would be just that, the past.

Wanderer learned that the hard way too. You wouldn't let yourself hold so many regrets before your inevitable death. Even in Liyue you weren't truly safe, so wouldn't it be best to speak to Zhongli while you still could?

"I have questions about Khaenri'ah… Well, the better way to put it is that the Creator has questions about them. It's one of the few things that they mourn the most. A whole nation devoted to worshiping solely the creator, destroyed by the Archons that swore their life and loyalty to the creator. So will you explain it to me?"

His eyes fill with the same sorrow you saw in him earlier. It seems you were right in guessing that his line on blindly trusting things labeled with the creator was connected to Khaenri'ah.

"I have spent all my years after that day asking for forgiveness, for some way to atone. It was one of the few contracts that I did not properly balance in equivalent exchange. I regret signing it, not for myself but for my beloved God."

"So it's a no."

"It's an agreement not to speak of it."

"Then don't speak about it." Zhongli seeds you a questioning glance as you mischievously smile at him. "Just listen to my words and don't look away. I'm quite sure nodding and shaking your head doesn't count as breaking your silence."

A huff of amusement leaves him at your solution. His eyes close with his lips curling into a small smile. He nods his head in acceptance, not having the drive to poke holes into your stubbornness.

You were quite confident in the conclusions you've drawn so far. Genshin Impact was nearly the sole reason you were living back on Earth. Family and friends were nonexistent, you had given up hope on making any new connections as well. The only thing you did when you weren't home was work and your work made you be everything but yourself. So combining everything you know from the game with everything of the cult that you've learned thus far shouldn't be too hard.

"When the Archon War broke out, I'm sure most of you were merely looking to keep your people and nation alive. The original design of having the gods powered solely on their people's worship paled in comparison to Celestia's offer of power by obtaining a spot in a group of seven. At the end, you all had a choice. Accept your spot by accepting a Gnosis, or go against them similar to how the Dragon King once did."

Zhongli perks up at the mention of the Dragon King. Not many people know about the original Dragon King. Most people assume it's Azhdaha when in reality, the original was a far greater dragon.

"You all must have been quite against it. The only God you would all bow under would be the Creator who had left before those events to sleep in my world, yet Celestia probably whispered to you all that it was allowed on Teyvat because it was approved by the Creator. That the Gnosis was a reward for all your hard work and as Celestia was the first descender, all of you accepted it.”

The way he begins to stare at you is invasive, like he's just dying to jump you to get every bit of knowledge you hold on the topic. He's starting to suspect you.

"Yet when Khaenri'ah was revealed to exist years afterwards, everything was thrown into confusion. I'm sure you and the other Archons were fine with their presence as Khaenri'ah worshiped the Creator, but was Celestia?"

A sly smile creeps upon your face at the memory of when it was revealed that Khaenri'ah wasn't the first civilization to be turned into hilichurls. No one liked Celestia so you had no problem pinning almost all the blame onto it.

"I'm sure they were enraged, especially as Khaenri'ah grew more and more bold with their inventions. Gold in particular was quite dangerous seeing as she not only created life but also Durin and the Golden Wolflord. And even that was unintentional!"

You laugh cheerfully as Zhongli chuckles in surprise at your words. Had you successfully deterred him? Probably not, but he hasn't stopped you so you'll keep going till the end.

"Celestia ordered you all to aid them in destroying Khaenri'ah but you all refused. How could any of you harm a nation so devoted to the creator even if they refused to worship Celestia or the Seven? But that Gnosis you all accepted comes with a price. A price that serves as leverage and a control device."

The thoughts of what Beisht told you on how Celestia had caused them to forget the original way of worship resurfaced. Celestia was just too suspicious for that to be the only thing they had done. It would take a lot more than that to force the Archons to listen to them.

"That Gnosis was like a drug. It gave you all so much power, tasting and making you feel like you're on top of the world! Just for it to come crashing down when the unpleasant side effects hit you. It corrupted you all like poison forcing you to wage war against Khaenri'ah. My best bet is that it was like mind control. What do you say?"

He looks at you with a blank expression, as if trying to see the secrets you hid in your soul through your eyes. But there's no response from him, not even the occasional nods that he was giving before.

"Well if it was mind control, perhaps it made you believe that Khaenri'ah had plans to overrule the Creator and create their own human god. Or maybe it made them out to be traitors to the creator. Perhaps both? That doesn't really matter, what does matter is that only after the war was in full throttle were you all brought back to your senses."

You didn't have any proof of that last part, it just seemed like something Celestia would do. Not only to prove their superiority but also force the Archons to put their best effort in defeating the people of Khaenri'ah to save their nations.

"After the war ended, you all wanted to get rid of it but Celestia wouldn't allow such a thing. Even if you most likely tried to find some loophole, Celestia doesn't play nice. It would make sense if they threatened to give a punishment similar to what they had done to Khaenri'ah. So long as none of you destroy or throw it away, they'll leave you all be,”

Venti was a god, no matter what fans said, there was no way he would lose to Signora. It made more sense if that was his way of 'handing' it over to the Tsaritsa. There was also Nahida who threatened to break her Gnosis to one-up Dottore. That was always funny, you would kill to have witnessed that in person.

"Of course none of you would actually use it or even desire it in your vicinity. Everyone wins when the Tsaritsa uses her various methods to acquire the gnosis'. And thanks to the traveler appearing during that time, Celestia was probably too busy freaking out over that to pay too much attention. For a while at least."

Finally looking back to Zhongli, you smiled proudly. "I must be pretty close right? At no point did you laugh at me like you did with Alice so I'll take that as a good sign. And even if I'm wrong, everything will be solved when the Creator descends."

Stretching to loosen the tension in your back, you applaud yourself for the brilliant thinking. It's not like anyone can actually fake gold blood for long when even hair dye didn't exist yet. You're basically leaving all these loose ends to the you that would be believed to be the Creator. Which is never going to happen!

"Would the Creator scorn me for asking you once again if you're truly an oracle?"

"I'm sure the glorious creator would be fully justified in doing so, but I'll scorn you in their stead.. And don't get it twisted, it's not because of your feelings concerning Guizhong's death. It's how you, by your own negligence, offended the Creator!"

An utterly baffled expression paints his face at your accusation. Unrelenting, you point your finger at him with a serious face that you haven't shown him till now.

"Did you really believe that the creator wouldn't realize? Just how little you changed from that brute of a dragon that saw humans as plentiful yet insignificant as dust? To think that you believed yourself to be comparable to the primordial dragons."

Zhongli stiffens at the mention of the primordial dragons. After all he is the prime of the Adepti who's exuvia is a dragon, not a primordial dragon. Wouldn't it be fun if he held some sense of inferiority when compared to the primordial ones?

Zhongli sits on the ledge of the rock with his elbows on his legs and his hands covering his face. It was time. He would question just what you were talking about and you'll explain the elemental sacrificing that he forgot. That'll be the end and he'll have no choice but to support you!

Smiling knowingly you approach him and lean down to see behind the shadow casting over his eyes. Your eyes twinkle victoriously as his breath leaves a cloud from the crisp air.

"I should have known that the creator would not forgive me for failing to arrive on time."

What?

"How could I have been beaten to that shooting star by that astrologist? No matter who may have been her master, I failed to arrive on time."

Zhongli sulks there as he continues rambling to himself on 'missing' the shooting star due to his old age. Was he seriously talking about how you lost him the first time to Mona?!

Memories come back of you using the last of your wishes on his banner and being greeted with Mona instead. The first 50/50 you lost and was forced to use nearly all your primogems to get him. A fact that you never let Zhongli forget through your adventures.

Just what would he do if he knew how you always switched to a different character whenever his idle starts to play? Would he sew his lips together in repentance? That must be the difference between a true believer and a fake believer...

Holding back a sigh you begin brainstorming on how you were supposed to bring the conversation back to the sacrificing. Zhongli is too lost in his own head as he begins to continuously blame himself for any mistake he could have made.

"Being unable to answer the travelers' questions must have worsened their view on me too."

"That and how you were willing to let Liyue flood if they couldn't defeat Osial."

"Human life may be precious but they're as numerous as the dust that make up stone. I would rebuild Liyue for the rest of this long life until I cultivate a nation that I could humbly present the creator with."

"Then shouldn't the creator just grind you down and raise a different Adepti to their exact liking? You should work hard to be exactly what they desire to be truly loved."

"Are you saying that the Creator loathes me?" He finally looks away from the sea of clouds to stare at you. Sparing him a glance, you listen to him grow more panicked by your silence.

"Do they wish to see me crumble and be reabsorbed into the earth for my mistakes, for my sins? Was it the way I mechanically went through the motions of worship for the few years after Guizhong's death? Or does my benevolent god crave me and my nation to fall for aiding in the destruction of Kh-?"

Abruptly Zhongli grasps at his chest where his heart lays as he coughs. More out of politeness than concern you rub his back as fluid flies from his lips to his closed fist.

The thick inky plum colored fluid stained his fist with droplets of crimson swirling within it. His coughing fit slows to a halt as his hand slowly releases the clothing over his heart. Harsh breathing and a shallow pained groan is all that can be heard as he cleans himself up.

“Pardon me-”

“Was that a warning from Celestia or a side effect if you get too close to speaking?"

"The implication is the same no matter what it may be from." He whispers as you begin to move back to return his personal space. Yet his now ungloved hand is what wraps around your grass stained sleeve.

"Now answer my question." Determination and a barely concealed unruly emotion simmer beneath his composed surface as he asks. "As an oracle, tell me what I have to do to earn their forgiveness. What must I reap to begin repenting for the sins I sowed?"

Eyes widening at the sight of the disheveled man, you stare at him quietly. The messy hair, cut up clothing and grip tight enough to keep you still all while being careful not to bruise.

Hook, line and sinker.

"Is that a question for me to answer? Am I the god that you wronged? If you wish to communicate with the creator yourself, then there is a way. A method to begin regaining the pebbles that make up the mountain of trust you once shared with them."

You grab the arm that connects to his hand wrapped around your own and pull him up. He obeys the silent command and stands up, his gaze never faltering from your form. Silent and towering like the mountains he's created, he simply listens.

"Celestia has hidden more from you than you originally thought. But I'm sure you already know that. Offer yourself to the merciful creator and they'll surely hear your pleas of forgiveness. Whether they forgive you or not is up to them."

Releasing your hold on him, you turn to survey the area. Now where could you have him perform the sacrifice? His free hand comes to rest on your shoulder for your attention.

"What must I offer of myself? My blood? My body? If need be, I'll even be willing to offer my life. My life is worthless without them. I'm nothing more than a grain of mineral if not for them."

"There's so many things you can offer, but if you want to make the most impact, then you'll offer up your body parts. Your life may be precious but just how much longer do you have left?"

"Then will the private temple I have built for them work? We can head there immediately." He points south to the sole unnamed mountain in Minlin. You vividly remember unlocking the teleport waypoint there.

"The only way I'll know is when I see the interior. I'll meet you there Zhongli!"

Pulling yourself away from his grasp, you close your eyes and calmly imagine what the scenery around the waypoint looks like. The rocky feel of the floating stone changes to a lush green beneath your feet. Opening your eyes you're greeted with a valley of viridescent brustles with degraded stone ruins at the edges.

"To think that the Creator even allowed you access to the waypoints. They must treasure you greatly." He appears at your side in a matter of minutes. His tone has a hint of longing and bitterness.

It's sweet like the flavor of a childhood candy that you would sneak behind your parents backs. Almost sweet enough to make up for the starvation you would face later on as punishment.

"Instead of focusing on that, why don't you show me that private temple you created? As the Geo Archon, I hold high expectations for you."

"This temple is the one I created for me. If you want the glamorous shrine built for the mass and appearance then you're better off viewing the public one that the Qixing now control."

He walks down the hill until the grass is tall enough to cover his calves. You follow behind him and stare blankly at the plain that is covered with a healthy amount of tall marigolds. Just as you're about to repeat the question, the earth begins to rumble.

It starts with just one stone rising from the ground, until it multiplies into a roof like structure. You watch in awe as a temple surges out of the mountain with the slightest bits of dirt falling off it.

Stone of high quality and clearly careful upkeep shines with small cracks from the passage of time. Gold, silver, and bronze layer the nooks and crannies of the pillars that keep a roof over the doorway.

Marveling at it, you follow Zhongli into the temple... He couldn't kill you in it, right? Surely you could still teleport even if he locked you in it… Teleporting without using the map might not work due to the focus and effort it required, but doing it with the map has never failed you yet.

The inside was even more impressive; statues of all kinds surrounded the hallway. It was you, always you, just in different poses, clothing and materials. From thin robes crafted entirely from Cor Lapis, to suits made of Noctilucous Jade.

Arriving at what seemed to be the main room, you're greeted with a huge statue comparable to the public one in Inazuma's plaza. Sunlight bathed your statue from the skylight above it.

Your body was made of Cor Lapis decorated in an Archon-like robe made from Noctilucous Jade. A fresh Glaze Lily sat in your palm as Silk Flowers adorned your head in a crown like structure. You sat on a blue stone throne that seemed to grow brighter as you approached it. The sleek yet dense mineral looked like the magical crystal chunks you would give to the blacksmiths.

"Be careful to not venture too close to that one, the elemental energy may leave it to join you." Zhongli warns as he steps into the middle of the room. Smiling casually to hide your amazement, you head back to him.

"What an impressive statue, the Creator is feeling quite pleased with the display but still wishes to see your true remorse." Digging into your bag, you brought out the ceremonial knife and the handbook you took notes on.

"Go get the softest cloth and lay it on the ground. This ritual is simple, you'll cut off whatever part of your body you wish to offer, pray, and wait for a response. If 10 to 20 minutes pass with no response, then you can leave it at that or offer more in hopes of a response."

Closing the book and shoving it back into your bag you offer the knife to Zhongli. He looks up from where he laid the gilded gold fabric to stare at the knife before letting out a drawl laugh.

"That knife will do little to my scales, Y/N. A ceremonial item is to be bathed in liquid gold to be used so I have more than enough weapons that can actually cut my skin."

Scoffing, you stuff the knife back in as he leaves and returns with a variety of weapons. The largest was an ax that smelled faintly of blood. Was it used to sacrifice someone not too long ago? The thought makes you uncomfortable, yet you're no longer alarmed at the thought.

My, have you changed.

You move to stand away from the center closer to the exit. Zhongli's bare hand turns to a pattern of black and amber hues. Shedding his thick coat, his flexed muscles in draconic form are left in full view.

If you were back on Earth, you would have killed to view this. An Archon’s skin was something the majority of the players wished for, for quite a while. Even now, you would love to see his true Archon form, but the thought of actually living was far more tantalizing.

Rolling up his sleeves, he chooses a sword and examines it carefully. Without fear he raises it high and slices downwards cutting his hand off cleanly. The ruby liquid sprays onto the floor as the droplets drip off his sword and dismembered limb simultaneously.

It doesn't matter how many times you witness or smell blood, it still disgusts you. The only blood you truly cherished in shedding was the one that left that man's body when you stabbed him in that cold alleyway.

His hand lands onto the expensive textile with a wet thud as the ivory bone sticks out. Zhongli lays the sword down gently resisting the urge to groan in pain. Gritting his teeth he returned his attention and gaze back to you. You, who stayed in perfect position ahead of him, clad in gems and minerals carved by his own hand.

Closing his eyes, his lips followed the adored pass time of praying with intensity. Too lost in his regret, joy, and infatuation his words slipped out clear like the perfectly carved jewels he’s crafted for you.

"My god, my god. For I have sinned against you so. The mistakes I cannot fix or change, I pray for your forgiveness." Your unmoving, unchangeable eyes stared at him with an expression so familiar to him, one who worshiped you in this temple for centuries.

"From allowing myself to be tricked, to the lack of devotion I felt to you in Guizhong's death and finally with how I treated a servant of yours with disdain. Envious, I am envious to an extent that I shouldn't hold to my righteous god like you. Even now I still haven't broken the habit of referring to you as 'my' god."

Once again, just like the first time, Teyvat seems to overwhelm you with his feelings. You stare at his back as his lips murmur the words of devotion without an end in sight. Silently, you accept his offering, this first one was only to put the last nail in the coffin of you being an oracle.

The sky darkens as Zhongli's hand crumbles into a pile of primogems that dissolve into the air. Blue and purple stars dance across the sky as a lone gold star makes its way closer.

You didn't plan to always accept his offerings. After all you did lose a 50/50 to him and was forced to put up with his paranoid possessiveness in regards to your creator self. Shouldn't you make him lose a few times to even the score?

The gold star shines brighter and bigger as Zhongli gazes at it with a smile purer than anything he's ever felt since his creation at your hands. It flies through the window enveloping him and the whole room with a beaming light.

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

When his eyes open, the skylight shows the sunny sky but he can already feel his connection to you stronger. The brilliance you bore shines beautifully in him like a star he wished to keep hidden for only him to see.

It worked, it worked! There is no need for him to be wary or envious of you for claiming to be so close to the creator anymore. In fact, you were a sign specifically designed for someone like him. A sign that the creator had not grown complacent in simply watching Teyvat, you were now showing interest in coming back soon. And through you, he can find out details about the creator that were kept secret all these millennia.

A wide and joyful grin is bared with obsession tangling within it. He turns his head to where you stood and his smile drops abruptly when all he's greeted with is an empty spot.

He built this temple for him and the creator to enjoy in privacy due to his possessive nature born from his dragon lineage, yet the sight of Y/N who up and vanished after fulfilling their duty struck his core like the abyssal gunk that used to constantly corrupt his body.

You may have left, you may think that he wouldn't treat you, a fellow devoted servant well due to his earlier behavior. And he understands that, he truly does but that simply means he has to rectify his mistake before it's too late. You were a mere human while him, a god.

Finding you before any terrible consequences from his mistakes won't take too long.

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

Unaware of the dragon's changing tune, you eye the Dragon-Queller tree from outside the temple with interest. After all the work you've done thus far, indulging yourself with a nice close up of the magnificent landmark would be a good treat for yourself.

This one took a while and it was edited by the same jerk. I really hope all the work was worth it and that the next part can be done faster. But as my college is starting this early Sep, it might be even longer. Genshin's lore is a hot mess so I tried my best to keep it simple while touching on the important parts. All the lore I put in is almost completely accurate. If you don't include the sagau parts. If your name is italic then that means I couldn't tag you. I manually put everyone so hopefully this fixes the notifications problems. Taglist: @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @sielt, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @conspicuous-mayonnaise, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zenith, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @zhonglisfruityass, @mer0n37, @victoria1676, @mochinessss, @sinnful-darling, @emilymikado, @pix-stuff, @esthelily, @luxie963, @emmbny, @millienolife, @kbar1013, @xxblackroses623xx, @chxrlxtteee, @aludicpoet, @yandematic, @atrcclovsxoxo, @0lshadyl0

#whisp's amateur work #genshin impact #genshin sagau #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #yandere sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau oracle au #genshin cult au #sagau cult au #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere zhongli #sagau #yandere morax #yandere rex lapis

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szariahwroteit · 4 months ago

Text

FUNGIRL A Trent Alexander-Arnold + Original Character Erotic Series.

Chapter 2

18+ Minors DNI

In the week that saw Trent photographed by paparazzi on a rather intimate date with an emerging model, Amber had gone radio silent. Completely ignoring him was as mature as she was willing to be.

Every message and FaceTime went unanswered; he followed her on Instagram before she promptly blocked him, confident that this time would be the last.

Although Amber understood that he wasn’t looking for anything serious, the fact that he’d stepped out so publicly with a woman felt as though he was claiming her, and in a way, shitting on her.

“Are you going to walk around looking like a sad puppy?” her older sister Natalia smirked empathetically.

Unlike her younger sister, who had left their hometown in Los Angeles to study law in Harvard before moving to London when she was offered a job within one of the most reputable firms in the city, Natalia stayed home in Los Angeles with their parents and younger brother.

By no means was it her proudest moment, but one night Amber officially reached her breaking point. She needed to get the hurt she felt off her chest, and her older sister offered an ear without any judgment.

“Maybe,” Amber pouted as she made her way back into the office, smiling politely at the familiar faces she passed as she returned from her lunch break.

“You're way too cute to have any man making you feel this way,” Natalia smiled empathetically.

As Amber made her way back towards her desk, the floor’s receptionist called her name and waved her over. “Amber! You have a delivery,” she said, holding up a medium-sized cardboard box and a small bouquet of pink roses.

Amber’s heart skipped a beat as she approached the reception desk, her mind racing. Could it be from Trent? She quickly squashed that thought, reminding herself of the last week’s events. Still, a flicker of hope ignited within her as she took the flowers and box from the receptionist.

“Who are they from?” Natalia asked curiously, her face contorting into a curious frown on her sister’s phone screen as Amber turned away from the receptionist to make her way over to her desk.

“I don’t know yet,” Amber replied, carefully removing a small white envelope from the flowers. Inside, she found a white piece of card with something scribbled on the back of it. Turning it over, her heart skipped a beat.

“Call me when you get these. - Trent,” she read aloud, her voice tinged with surprise and a hint of disbelief. The words echoed in her mind, stirring a mix of emotions that she had been trying to suppress.

“What’s in the box?” Natalia asked, leaning in closer, her curiosity piqued.

Amber carefully set the flowers down on her desk, propped up her phone and opened the box, her heart racing with anticipation. Inside, she found an unmistakable ox-blood box and instantly froze.

“No fucking way!” Natalia gasped into her sister’s ear-pod, her voice barely above a whisper. “He brought you Cartier?”

Amber’s hands trembled slightly as she lifted the lid of the jewellery box, revealing a set of beautiful diamond earrings.

The earrings were absolutely beautiful, dancing against the low lighting of the office floor. As the daughter of a high-powered lawyer and a former beauty queen turned relationship guru and therapist, she knew luxury. Her childhood was one filled with debutante balls and societal engagements.

But this was different. The diamonds she held in her hand symbolized so much more than beautiful jewellery.

“Diamond earrings!” Natalia exclaimed, her voice a mix of disbelief and caution as she watched Amber’s face drop.

“I…I don’t want them,” Amber stammered, her heart racing for a different reason now. “This is too much. It feels wrong, I have to send them back.”

“What do you mean?” Natalia asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“We’re not together, I’ve been avoiding him since the pictures of him came out on the internet. If this is an olive branch it feels wrong.” The idea that Trent thought she could be brought made her skin crawl, that her pride and self respect came at a price no matter how beautiful the jewellery was.

The gift, or olive branch, or whatever he thought this was, felt as though it had been given as a means of balm for the hurt she felt and keep her in a place of wading. A means of keeping her around and, most importantly, as if that was what he thought she wanted from him.

Amber’s vision blurred slightly as she fought back tears. “I don’t want to be someone’s consolation prize,” she said, her voice trembling. “I don’t want to feel like I’m being bought or have a price, this doesn't make up for my feelings.”

Natalia sighed, her expression softening. “I get it, Amber. But maybe he’s trying to show you he’s serious about wanting to make things right. This isn’t just a random gift; it’s a statement.”

“Or it’s a way to keep me there without actually keeping me,” Amber countered, shaking her head. “I don’t want to fall for it. I need to stand my ground.”

“Then do that,” Natalia encouraged, placing a comforting hand on her sister’s shoulder. “But you should at least talk to him. You owe it to yourself to hear him out instead of beating yourself up about it. You can’t just ignore everything and pretend it didn’t happen.”

Amber took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside her. “I know you’re right. I just… I don’t want to keep hurting myself. I don’t want to be vulnerable with him.”

“Then set your boundaries,” Natalia suggested. “You can tell him how you feel without giving in. You’re stronger than you think.”

Amber nodded slowly, her resolve hardening. “Okay, I’ll call him. But I’m not keeping the bag. I’ll return it, and I’ll make it clear that I don't see him as a meal ticket.”

“Good plan,” Natalia said, her voice filled with support. “You deserve to be treated with respect, not as a prize to be won back. Stay strong and call me later, I love you.” She continued before ending the Facetime call.

Placing the lid back on the orange box, Amber packed it back into the bigger cardboard box it was delivered in and placed it safely beneath her desk.

With a newfound determination, Amber picked up her phone and dialled Trent’s number. As it rang, she felt a mix of anxiety and empowerment. She was ready to confront him, to voice her feelings, and to reclaim her power in this situation.

“It’s me,” she said when he finally picked up, her heart pounding. “Trent, I don't want it.”

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, and Amber could almost hear Trent processing her words. “What do you mean?” he finally asked, his voice a mix of confusion and concern.

“I mean the bag,” Amber clarified, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside her. “I don’t want it. I don’t want any of this. It feels wrong, and it feels like you’re trying to buy my forgiveness.”

“Amber, I—” he started, but she cut him off.

“No, let me finish,” she insisted, her heart racing. “I’ve been avoiding you because I needed time to think. I saw those pictures, and it hurt. I know you said you didn’t want anything serious from anyone, but those pictures suggested otherwise. So I’d rather quit while I’m ahead.”

“Amber, please,” Trent interjected, his voice rising slightly in urgency. “I never meant to hurt you. Those pictures… they were a mistake. I was trying to figure things out, and I didn’t think about how it would affect you.”

“Exactly,” Amber replied, her voice firm. “You didn’t think about me and I wish you did,” she sighed sadly.

“I know,” he said, his tone softening. “And I’m sorry. I should have communicated better. I should have been more considerate of your feelings. I just… I got caught up in everything, and I didn’t handle it well.”

Amber felt a pang of sympathy for him, but she quickly reminded herself of the hurt she had felt over the past days. “Please just give me an address I can send the purse and flowers and I’ll be out of your hair, Trent.”

Thankful for the current scarcity of staff on the office floor, Amber squeezed her eyes shut as she pulled the phone away from her ear before hanging up abruptly.

She knew if she stayed on the phone to Trent any longer her true feelings were liable to slip and she refused to take any more blows to her pride where he was concerned.

Hours away from the capital in Liverpool Trent sat completely stunned. He gathered Amber wasn’t impressed with his recent antics, based on her silence over the last week or so, but the hurt in her voice had caught him off guard. He had expected anger, maybe even some tears, but the way she had calmly stated her boundaries made him realize just how serious this was.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He had thought the bag would be a way to bridge the gap, a gesture to show her he cared. But now, it felt like he had only made things worse.

“Fuck me,” he muttered to himself, sinking into the edge of his bed as he took a seat.

Trent stared at his phone for a long moment after Amber ended the call. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut, her words echoing in his mind.

"Please just give me an address I can send the purse and flowers and I'll be out of your hair, Trent."

Out of his hair? Those were fighting words if he ever heard them. He wanted to argue back, to tell her she was being ridiculous and that he cared about her more than any bag or public appearance could prove. But something in her voice stopped him cold.

She wasn't asking for apologies or promises, or even his attention. She was setting boundaries, making it clear what she would and wouldn't accept from him moving forward.

Trent sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair as he tried to process everything that had happened. What made matters worse was that he liked Amber, she was a beautiful woman and a pleasure to be around in more ways than one.

Each of their encounters had been intense passionate, exhilarating...and sometimes messy. But he loved his life as is, he loved the freedom to do as he pleased without consequence or explanation.

To Trent, going to dinner with a girl he’d been introduced to by a friend was him exercising his freedom as a single man, a man without consequence or explanation.

As one of the brightest stars in football, he had always been in the spotlight, and he had revelled in it. But now, he was faced with the reality that his actions had consequences, and those consequences were hurting someone he genuinely cared about.

He leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling as he replayed the conversation in his mind. Amber’s voice had been steady, but the hurt was palpable. He had never intended to hurt her; he had just been trying to navigate his chaotic life, and in doing so, he had.

Trent picked up his phone again, scrolling through his contacts until he found Amber’s name. He hesitated, his thumb hovering over the call button. What could he say that would make any difference? He had already hurt whether or not it was in his intention to, and now he was left with the aftermath of his choices.

He thought back to their time together—the laughter, the late-night conversations, the way she lit up when she talked about her dreams. She was more than just a pretty face; she was ambitious, driven, and had a fire in her that he admired. But his admiration didn’t outweigh his desire to do as he pleased.

His desire to look for those same qualities in other women.

Trent felt a pang of guilt wash over him as he acknowledged the truth of his actions. He had taken Amber for granted, assuming she would always be there, waiting for him to figure things out. But now, he was faced with the reality that he might lose her for good if he didn’t change his approach.

He set his phone down and stood up, pacing the room as he tried to gather his thoughts. He needed to do something meaningful, something that would show Amber he was serious about wanting to make things right. The bag and flowers had been a misguided attempt to bridge the gap, but now he realized that they were just superficial gestures. What he needed was to confront his own feelings and be honest with her.

After a long fortnight of football matches and travelling, he had plans of spending his hard-earned weekend relaxing, but instead, he now stood trying to map out the quickest route to drive from Liverpool to London.

His decision was impulsive, but he couldn’t shake the hurt in Amber’s voice from his mind no matter how hard he tried. The way her Southern Californian accent lacked its usual charm.

Letting out a sigh, Trent stood from his bed and made his way into his closet to find something appropriate to wear. He rifled through his clothes, pulling out a crisp white shirt and a black sweatsuit.

As he dressed, he mentally prepared himself for the conversation he hoped to have with Amber. He needed to be honest about his feelings, to show her that regardless of whether or not wanted to do as he pleased, he understood the gravity of his lack of consideration. He wanted her to know that he cared about her.

Once he was dressed, he grabbed his keys and headed out the door. The drive from Liverpool to London was about two and a half hours, but he was determined to make it in less time. He needed to see her, to talk to her face-to-face.

As he drove, he replayed their last conversation in his mind, trying to anticipate her reactions. Would she be open to seeing him? Would she even want to talk? The uncertainty gnawed at him, but he pushed it aside, focusing instead on the road ahead.

When he finally arrived in London, the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the frost-bitten city.

As he drove towards the city centre he came to a humbling realization, he’d sent the gifts to her office building not because he knew that’s where she’d be, but because he didn’t know where she lived and he was able to obtain the office’s addresses with a google search.

Every time they’d been intimate it had been in the confines of a hotel room, a fleeting moment of passion and desire before he went on his way again, before he went on to the next.

Pulling onto the side of a street, Trent pulled out his phone sifting through it until he found Amber’s contact again.

Part of him knew she didn’t owe him her time or attention, but he still felt compelled to reach out. He hesitated, his thumb hovering over the call button once more. What could he say that would make any difference? He had already hurt her, and now he was left with the aftermath of his choices.

Taking a deep breath, he decided to send a text instead.

Trent: Amber, I’m in London. Can we meet?

He hit send and waited, his heart racing as he stared at the screen. The minutes felt like hours as he watched the three dots appear and disappear, a constant reminder of his anxiety. Finally, his phone buzzed.

Amber: I’m busy, Trent.

The response stung, but he refused to let it deter him. He quickly typed back.

Trent: I understand, but I really need to see you. Please, just a few minutes.

He waited, his palms sweaty on the steering wheel. After what felt like an eternity, she replied.

Amber: fine.

Trent let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as her previous message was followed up by an address to her apartment building.

Amber: Meet me at my place in 20 minutes.

Trent's heart raced as he typed a quick acknowledgement. He quickly entered the address into his GPS, feeling a mix of excitement and dread. This was it—his chance to make things right, to show Amber that he genuinely cared about her feelings.

As he drove through the bustling streets of London, he couldn’t help but think about how selfish he’d been, not only to Amber but the others. The laughter they shared, the way she challenged him, and the warmth of her presence. He had been so caught up in his world that he hadn’t considered how his actions would affect her.

Arriving at her apartment building, he parked and took a moment to collect himself. He could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on him. This wasn’t just about the bag or the flowers; it was about their connection and the trust that had been shaken.

He walked up to the entrance and buzzed her apartment. After a moment, he heard her voice through the intercom. “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” he replied, trying to keep his voice steady.

There was a pause, and he could almost hear her weighing her options. Finally, the door clicked open. He stepped inside, his heart pounding as he made his way to her floor.

When he reached her door, he took a deep breath and knocked. The sound echoed in the quiet hallway, and he felt a rush of nerves. What if she didn’t want to see him? What if she slammed the door in his face?

But the door opened, and there she stood, looking both beautiful and guarded. Amber’s expression was a mix of surprise and wariness, her arms crossed over her chest as if to shield herself from whatever he might say.

“Trent,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Hey,” he replied, his heart racing. “Can we talk?”

Amber hesitated, her eyes searching his face for something—an apology, a reason, a sign that he understood. Finally, she stepped aside, allowing him to enter.

The apartment was cozy, filled with soft lighting and the faint scent of vanilla. It felt like a sanctuary, a stark contrast to the chaos of their recent interactions.

“Sit down,” she said, motioning to the stylish small white couch. He took a seat, feeling the weight of her gaze on him.

“I’m sorry for everything,” he began, his voice earnest. “I didn’t think about how my actions would affect you. I was caught up in my own world, and I didn’t consider your feelings at all.”

Amber remained silent, her expression unreadable. He could see the hurt in her eyes, and it made his chest tighten.

“I thought sending the bag and flowers would help,” he continued, frustration creeping into his voice. “But I realize now that it was a stupid move. I was trying to fix things without really understanding what I needed to fix.”

“Trent,” she finally spoke, her voice steady but laced with emotion. “You can’t just throw gifts at someone and expect everything to be okay. It doesn’t work like that.”

“I know,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I was an idiot. I thought maybe if I showed you I cared tangibly, it would make up for everything.”

Amber’s expression softened slightly, but she still looked guarded. “You hurt me, Trent. Seeing those pictures… it felt like a slap in the face to have you tell me you don’t want anything serious with anybody and then be out so publicly with someone. I feel worthless.”

“You’re not,” he insisted, leaning forward. “You’re not worthless, Amber. You’re an incredible woman.”

“Just not one you care to take seriously,” Amber said, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. “I’m just sex to you Trent.”

Trent felt a sharp pang in his chest at her words. “That’s not true,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re so much more than that to me. I’ve never seen you as just a fling. I care about you, Amber. I really do.”

“Then why did you let the world see you with her?” she shot back, her voice rising slightly. “As a man who’s adamant he wants to be single, why claim her like that? Because I’m just pussy to you, worthless, replaceable pussy.”

Amber couldn’t even articulate the idea of her not being enough for him, it hurt entirely too much. But deep down that is exactly how she felt.

Trent's heart ached at her words, the raw pain in her voice cutting deeper than he had anticipated. “Amber, please don’t say that,” he pleaded, his voice trembling. “You’re not just sex to me. I’ve never treated you like that. I was trying to figure out my life, and I messed up. I didn’t think about how my actions would affect you, and I’m so sorry for that.”

“Maybe this should be it, Trent.” Amber interrupted, her voice trembling with emotion. “Maybe this is where we draw the line. I can’t keep putting myself in a position where I feel like I’m not enough for you. I deserve better than that.”

Trent felt a wave of desperation wash over him. “No, please don’t say that. I don’t want to lose you. I know I’ve messed up, but I want to make it right. I want to show you that I can be better.”

“Better?” she echoed, her eyes narrowing. “What does that even mean? Do you think a few nice words and a bag can fix this? You think I’m just going to forget how you made me feel? How I've made myself feel?”

“No, I don’t think that,” he said, his voice earnest. “But I want to try.”

Amber shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Please don't say things we both know you don't mean.”

“Amber, I mean it,” Trent said, his voice filled with urgency. “I know I’ve hurt you, but that wasn't my intention.”

“The thing is Trent you did and it's both our fault, when you told me you had no interest in anything serious I should have listened.” Amber pointed out painfully, her voice soft. “But I let myself hope for something more. I thought maybe you’d change your mind, that we could be something real. And then I saw those pictures, and it shattered everything.”

Trent couldn't bear the look on Amber’s face, standing from his seat he strode over to wear she stood clutching her body for some form of comfort in such an uncomfortable situation.

Amber’s breath caught in her throat as Trent pulled her body into his arms, allowing her to cry into his chest as he held her.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured again, feeling the warmth of her body against his and the weight of her tears soaking into his shirt. “I never wanted to hurt you. I was foolish and thoughtless, and I can’t express how much I regret it.”

Amber’s sobs began to quiet as she leaned into him, her body trembling with the release of pent-up emotions. “This isn't right, this isn't what you wanted,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest. “You shouldn’t have to feel obligated to comfort me.”

Trent tightened his grip around her, unwilling to let go. “Stop,” he said softly, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. “If I didn't want to be here I wouldn't be.”

Amber searched his gaze, looking for any hint of insincerity, but all she found was a deep-seated regret and a flicker of hope.

Laying her head against Trent’s chest, she allowed herself to be fully vulnerable for the first time since the fallout. The warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat provided a sense of comfort she hadn’t realized she craved.

“Come back to Liverpool with me tonight, spend the weekend with me,” he murmured into her hair, his voice low and earnest. “Let’s talk this through, away from all the noise and distractions. I want to show you that I’m serious about making things right.”

Amber pulled back slightly, searching his eyes for any sign of insincerity. “You really think that’s a good idea? After everything that’s happened?”

“I do,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I want to prove to you that I can be better. I want to show you that I care about you, not just with words, but with actions.”

She hesitated, her heart torn between the desire to believe him and the fear of getting hurt again. “What if it doesn’t change anything? What if we just end up in the same place?”

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” he said, his voice steady. “But I need you to give me a chance. I can’t fix this without you.”

Amber took a deep breath, weighing her options. The thought of spending the weekend with him was both thrilling and terrifying. She wanted to believe that the dynamic could change, that he could be the man she wanted him to be. But the fear of being hurt again loomed large in her mind.

“Okay,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll come with you. But I need you to be straight up with me, if this isn't what you want I’d rather you let me down easy.”

Trent nodded, his expression earnest. “I promise, Amber. I’ll be completely honest with you. I don’t want to play games anymore. I want to be real with you.”

Amber felt a flicker of hope at his words, but she still held onto her reservations. “If there are going to be other women I’d rather not know,” she said in complete disbelief of her own words as they left her lips.

Trent made her feel pathetic, but still she couldn’t bring herself to fully cut ties.

“I understand,” he replied, his voice steady. “I won’t put you in that position. I want to focus on us, on what we have. I know I’ve messed up, but I want to make it right.”

Amber nodded slowly, feeling a mix of hope and apprehension. She was stepping into uncharted territory, and while a part of her was excited, another part was terrified of the potential heartbreak that could follow. “Okay,” she said, her voice firmer now. “Let’s see where this weekend goes.”

“Let’s,” Trent smiled softly as their eyes met, the tension between them easing just a bit. He could see the flicker of hope in Amber’s eyes, and it filled him with determination. This was his chance to prove himself, to show her that he wasn’t the man his actions suggested.

As Amber gathered her things in preparation of an impromptu weekend in Liverpool with Trent, her heart fluttering in her chest as he sat comfortably on her bed watching her.

“Come here,” he said softly, gesturing for her to join him. Amber hesitated for a moment, her heart racing as she considered the implications of moving closer to him. But the warmth in his voice and the sincerity in his eyes drew her in.

She walked over and sat beside him, feeling the familiar spark of connection that had always been there between them. Taking her hand into his, he guided her on top of him so she straddled his lap, her cheeks flushed as he gazed up at her.

“Where are the earrings and flowers I sent?” Trent asked, a hint of a smirk present in his voice.

“I threw the flowers in the trash and the earrings are in my closet,” Amber replied, her voice steady despite the fluttering in her stomach. She felt a mix of defiance and vulnerability as she looked down at him, their positions shifting the dynamic between them.

Trent raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. “You really didn’t like the earrings?”

“It’s not that I didn’t like them,” she said, her tone serious. “It’s just… it felt wrong. Like you were trying to buy my forgiveness or something.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “I get that. I thought it would help bridge the gap, but I see it fell flat. I want you to keep it, though.”

Amber's heart raced at his insistence. “Trent, I can’t.”

Trent’s gaze was unwavering, and he leaned in closer, his voice low and sincere. “You can and you will, it’s yours.

Instead of continuing their back and forth, Amber climbed off of Trent’s lap to continue packing for the weekend.

As she moved around the room, gathering her essentials, she felt Trent's eyes on her, a mix of admiration and concern etched on his face. The tension in the air was palpable, and Amber couldn't shake the feeling that they were at a crossroads.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Trent asked, breaking the silence as she folded a few clothes into her overnight bag. “I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

Amber paused, looking over her shoulder at him. “I’m not doing this because I feel pressured. I’m doing this because I want to,”

As present and in the moment as Trent was, he allowed his eyes to slip and study her figure as she stood in an oversized tank that showed off the swell of the sides of her breasts and a pair bicycle shorts that looked as though they’d been painted on.

The idea that he’d made such a beautiful girl question her worth didn’t sit right with him, regardless of whether or not he was looking for anything serious with anyone.

By the time Amber had finished packing a small Louis Vuitton duffle bag, outside was completely dark. Making sure all of the lights in her apartment were off, she followed Trent out into the evening.

The drive from just west of central London to Liverpool took about two and a half hours, but the time seemed to fly by as they talked and laughed, the tension between them slowly dissipating. Amber found herself relaxing in Trent’s presence, the warmth of his smile and the sincerity in his voice easing her worries, if only a little.

As they drove, they discussed everything from their favorite movies to their childhood memories, and Amber felt a sense of normalcy returning. It was as if the weight of the past week was lifting, and she could almost forget the hurt that had lingered between them.

By the time they got to Trent’s neighborhood the nighttime had completely taken over, Amber sat in quiet awe as she took in each large, beautiful house they passed.

This would mark the first time she’d ever been in Trent’s space and she couldn’t help but wonder what the premier league star’s house would look like.

Trent parked in the driveway of a sleek, modern house that stood out among the others on his street, its clean lines and expansive windows inviting curiosity. Amber felt a flutter of apprehension and excitement as he turned off the engine and opened the door for her.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” he said with a faint smile, leading her up the stone walkway. The house was impressive, a testament to his success, but it felt oddly warm and inviting.

As they stepped inside, Amber was immediately struck by the spaciousness of the living room. High ceilings, contemporary art pieces adorning the walls, and minimalistic furniture created an airy atmosphere. Cozy textures were layered throughout, and soft lighting cast a gentle glow, making it feel almost intimate.

“Make yourself at home,” Trent said, casually tossing his keys onto a nearby counter. Amber wandered further into the space, taking in the details—the bookshelf filled with an eclectic mix of novels, the framed photos capturing candid moments from Trent's life with his family.

“Wow, this is really nice,” she remarked, turning to face him with a genuine smile, feeling a little more at ease. “You’ve done well for yourself.”

He chuckled softly, leaning against the kitchen island. “Thanks. It’s taken some time to make it feel like home. I travel a lot, so I wanted somewhere to come back to that felt… personal.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Amber replied, her gaze drifting over the sleek appliances and the small touches that hinted at his personality. “It feels lived in.”

“Exactly,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice. “Want something to drink? I think I have a decent bottle of wine stashed away somewhere.”

Amber bit her lip, considering. “Sure, that sounds nice.”

As Trent disappeared into the kitchen, Amber took a moment to absorb the environment fully. The artworks scattered throughout the space hinted at a sensitive side she hadn’t quite seen before, the mix of personal and professional resonating with her more than she'd expected.

“Here we go,” he returned a moment later, a bottle of red wine in hand and two glasses dangling from his fingers. “I hope you’re a fan of Merlot.”

“Always.” Amber smiled as he poured the rich, deep liquid, the aroma filling the air.

They settled on the couch, their knees almost touching but with enough space to allow for the tension that still lingered in the air. As they shared the wine, they spoke lightheartedly at first, their laughter echoing through the living room.

But as the evening wore on and the bottles dwindled, the atmosphere shifted subtly. Amber felt the weight of their earlier conversation press upon them, and she realized that they would have to address the elephant in the room sooner or later.

“Trent,” she began, twirling her glass nervously. “I appreciate you bringing me here and wanting to make things right, but I need to know what you really want from this.”

Trent set his glass down, his expression growing serious. “I want to be honest with you, Amber. I like you and I want to continue seeing you, but I also need time to figure things out.”

Amber felt her heart race as his words hung in the air, the weight of his admissions settling over them. “You like me?” she repeated, searching his eyes for any trace of insincerity, but all she saw was earnestness.

“I do,” he said, leaning slightly closer, his voice low. “But I also know I’ve messed things up. I want to be real with you moving forward, but I can’t promise some fairytale outcome overnight.”

Her pulse quickened at his honesty, the mixture of hope and uncertainty swirling inside her. “So, you’re saying you want to see where this goes?”

“Exactly,” he replied, his gaze steady. “But I need to do it right this time. I don’t want you to feel like you have to earn my attention or that I’m keeping you at arm’s length. You deserve better.”

Amber couldn’t help but smile slightly at his words. The vulnerability he was showing was so different from what she’d experienced before with him. “I just don’t want to go back to feeling like I’m not enough or like I’m something to do when there’s nothing to do.”

Trent reached out, taking her hand in his and squeezing gently. “You are more than that. You have to believe me.”

His touch sent a shiver up her spine, igniting a chemistry that had been brewing between them all along. Still, the remnants of her heartache loomed heavy.

Pushing all rational thought to the back of her mind, Amber leaned into Trent pressing his lips against hers as he melted into his seat, swiftly pulling her body on top of his.

Lost in the moment, Amber felt the warmth of his body envelop her. The kiss was electric, igniting every nerve ending as she responded instinctively to the heat radiating between them. It was unlike any kiss they had shared before—fueled by the pent-up emotions from their tumultuous journey, each brush of his lips against hers whispered promises of something more.

Trent’s hands found their way to her waist, holding her firmly yet tenderly as though she might slip away if he didn’t. She reveled in the feeling of being wanted, the way he kissed her with a desperation that mirrored her own longing. The world around them faded, leaving just the two of them tangled in each other and the weight of their unspoken feelings.

As they pulled apart, breathless and wide-eyed, Amber searched Trent’s face for a hint of what he was thinking. “I—”

“What is it?” he cut her off softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

“I want you to fuck me,” Amber murmured, her heart racing at the audacity of her words. It felt both liberating and terrifying to voice what she desperately craved.

Trent's eyes darkened with intensity, a mix of surprise and undeniable hunger flickering across his features. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and taut, like a bowstring ready to snap.

Amber nodded, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her. “I need to feel something real right now, something that reminds me of the connection we have. It’s been too much chaos lately, I just want to feel you.”

And feel him she did.

Amber lay back on the plush sofa, her legs spread wide as Trent knelt between them. His hands gripped her inner thighs, fingers digging into the soft skin as he gazed up at her with hungry eyes.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he groaned, his breath hot against her dampening pussy lips. "I could eat this sweet little pussy all day."

Trent dove in without hesitation, his tongue delving deep to taste Amber's arousal. She let out a sharp gasp, hips bucking slightly at the sudden sensation.

"Oh god... Trent..." Her voice trailed off into a moan as he worked his magic, lapping and sucking with increasing fervour.

He alternated between long, slow strokes of his tongue and quick flicks against her sensitive clit. Amber's head thrashed from side to side, her shiny black hair splayed across the cushions as she struggled to maintain coherence.

"That's it, baby... just like that," she panted.

Trent's hands slid up Amber's body to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over the hardening nipples. He suckled harder on her pussy, determined to make her come undone.

“Like this?” Trent asked raising his head, his chin and lips glistening with her arousal as he puckered them and allowed a bead of his spit to fall into her clit, before sucking it back into his mouth, his eye’s never leaving hers.

Amber's eyes widened as Trent's saliva hit her sensitive clit, the added moisture sending shockwaves through her body. "Yes, god yes..." she whimpered, arching into his touch.

Trent continued to lavish attention on her sex, alternating between sucking and licking in a relentless rhythm that had Amber teetering on the edge of climax. She could feel the pressure building inside her, coiling tighter with each pass of his tongue.

"I'm so close... don't stop," she begged breathlessly, fingers tangling in Trent's tapered curls.

He obliged, as he devoured her pussy like a man starved. The room filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing and wet slapping noises as he ate out Amber with wild abandon.

Just when it seemed he might push her over the precipice at any moment, Trent pulled back slightly. “Reach down and spread pussy open for me,” he instructed.

Amber's heart raced as Trent commanded her to spread her pussy open for him. She instinctively tried to close her thighs, but he held them apart with a firm grip.

"Please... I'm so sensitive," she whimpered, feeling exposed and vulnerable in that moment.

Trent didn't relent, his intense gaze never leaving her face. "That's the point, beautiful. You're mine to play with right now."

With shaking hands, Amber reached down and grasped the swollen lips of her sex. She parted them slowly, revealing the glistening pink flesh within. A trickle of arousal escaped, dripping down onto the sofa cushion below.

"There you go," Trent purred approvingly, leaning forward once more to lap at her juices greedily. His tongue delved deep into her folds again, swirling around her clit before tracing up and down each side of her slit.

The added stimulation from spreading herself wide made everything feel even more intense for Amber.

Amber's head thrashed back and forth as Trent worked her over, the combination of his skilled tongue and her shameless display pushing her to the brink. "Oh fuck, oh my god... I'm gonna cum baby!" she wailed.

Trent responded by redoubling his efforts, sucking harder on her clit while thrusting two fingers deep into Amber's twitching channel. He curled them just right, rubbing that sweet spot inside her that made stars burst behind her eyelids.

With a keening cry, Amber shattered once more beneath him. Her pussy clenched rhythmically around his invading digits as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed over her. This time, Trent didn't pull away – he kept eating at her sex until she'd ridden out every last tremor.

Only then did he withdraw his fingers and sit back on his heels to admire his handiwork: Amber lying spent and sated on the sofa, thighs still parted in invitation.

“More,” she breathed, her fingers gently tracing over her sensitive pussy as their eyes met.

“More?” Trent repeated.

Instead of offering him a verbal response, Amber sat up and moved over onto her hands and knees, a deep arch in her spine. She wanted him to fuck her until the hurt and embarrassment she’d felt over the last week were wiped clean from her mind.

Trent's eyes widened at the sight of Amber presenting herself so wantonly. He swallowed hard, his cock throbbing in response to her display.

"Fuck, baby... you're incredible," he murmured, a low growl building in his chest as he pulled off his pants and boxers. His rigid erection sprang free, thick and pulsing with need.

Trent positioned himself behind Amber, running the head of his dick along her soaked folds teasingly before pushing inside. She was still sensitive from her previous orgasms but welcomed the stretch as he filled her gradually.

"Ohhhh shit..." she moaned, arching back into him before he abruptly pulled himself from her.

“I need you in my bed,” Trent growled, his voice thick with desire, as he quickly grabbed Amber's waist and spun her around to face him. He claimed her lips with a fierce kiss, tongues dancing as they both breathed heavily through their noses, the tension crackling between them.

“Let’s go,” he said, his breath warm against her cheek, as he scooped her up effortlessly, causing her to gasp in surprise. His hands gripped her thigh while she wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling the unmistakable heat of his body against hers.

With a powerful stride, Trent carried her upstairs to his bedroom, their breaths mingling with the urgency of their need. He kicked open the door, quickly stepping inside before gently setting her on the bed.

Amber's heart raced as he stepped back to admire her; the flush of passion coloured her cheeks, and her body gleamed with a sheen of perspiration, the sight of her drove him wild.

“Can I return the favour?” she asked, eyeing his long, thick cock that hung heavily beneath them.

“You want to?” Trent asked taking hold of his length, slowly stroking from tip to base and back again as Amber crawled to the edge of the bed.

Amber's eyes widened at the sight of Trent's impressive erection, her gaze locked onto it hungrily. "Yes," she breathed, reaching out to wrap a hand around his shaft. "I want to taste you."

Without waiting for an invitation, Amber leaned forward and took him into her mouth, moaning softly as he filled her oral cavity. She began to bob her head slowly, savoring the saltysweet flavor of his precum on her tongue.

Trent let out a low groan as Amber worked him over with skillful lips and tongue. Her free hand fondled his balls while she sucked gently on the tip of his cockhead.

"Fuck... just like that," he encouraged through gritted teeth, fingers tangling in Amber's hair. "You're amazing."

Emboldened by his praise, Amber increased the pace of her ministration.

Trent watched in awe as Amber made a mess on him, saliva and pre-cum coating his cock as she took him deeper, the warmth of her mouth and her eyes never breaking contact with his driving him wild with lust. He could feel the heat pooling in his belly, every flick of her tongue sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through him.

“God, Amber,” he gasped, tilting his hips forward to meet her mouth as she sucked harder, pulling him in deeper until her throat constricted around his length.

In response, she moaned, sending vibrations through his shaft that had him groaning louder. The sight of her on her knees, completely absorbed in pleasuring him, was more arousing than he could have imagined.

“Breathe through your nose, baby,” he murmured, pulling back slightly to let her catch her breath. “You’re doing so good, so messy for me.”

Spit dripped from Amber’s chin gathering on her chest and flat stomach as she allowed Trent to have his way with her mouth and throat.

Reaching between her own legs, Amber gagged as her fingers came into contact with her clit, instantly sending a chill down her spine as she refused to break eye contact with the man before her.

As Trent's cock slid deeper into her mouth, Amber felt a surge of pride and desire. She loved the power she wielded with her lips and tongue, the ability to make him groan and tremble beneath her touch. Her own arousal grew with each thrust, juices dripping down her thighs as she sucked him harder.

Trent tangled his fingers in Amber's hair, guiding her pace as he rolled his hips against her face. "Just like that... fuck yes," he panted, eyes locked on hers as she worked him over.

Amber moaned around his length, sending vibrations through his shaft that had him gasping for breath. She could taste the salty tang of his precum mingling with the musky scent of their combined arousal filling the air.

Lost in the moment, Amber forgot about everything else Trent's fame, their complicated relationship status, even her dreams for a more meaningful connection. All that mattered was pleasing this man who stirred such intense passion within her.

Amber’s mind turned to mush as Trent fucked her throat, his hand gripping her hair into a messy ponytail as she took him.

Trent hated how selfish his thoughts may have sounded, but there was no way he was actually going to allow Amber to walk away. His interest in other women didn’t take away from what he felt towards her.

Pulling her mouth off of him Trent watched in awe as a string of her saliva ran from her lips to his hard dick.

As Trent pulled out of Amber's mouth, she gasped for air, eyes glazed with lust. He was so hard and thick in her hand, the head glistening with saliva.

"Hmm... you taste amazing," she purred, stroking him slowly as she looked up at him through heavy eyelashes.

Trent shuddered at her touch, his breath hitching in his chest. "You're fucking incredible," he rasped, reaching down to help her off the bed.

Amber let him pull her to her feet and then turned around to present herself once more. She spread her legs wider, giving Trent an unobstructed view of her dripping pussy.

Trent stepped forward, his eyes locked onto Amber's glistening sex. With a reverent hand, he cupped her ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled her back against him.

"You're so ready for me," he growled approvingly, rubbing the head of his cock along her slick folds. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll forget your own name."

Amber shivered at his words, a thrill running through her at the promise of rough passion. She reached back to guide him inside, but Trent wasn't having it. Instead, he gripped both of her hips and slammed into her with one powerful thrust.

A sharp cry escaped Amber's lips as she was filled to the brim by Trent's thick length. He didn't give her time to adjust before pulling out and driving in again, setting a relentless pace that had them both panting within moments.

"Yes... just like that!"

Trent grunted with each powerful stroke, his hips snapping forward to bury himself in Amber's heat again and again. He could feel her pussy clenching around him, her inner walls rippling along his length as he claimed her thoroughly.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, sweat beading on his brow from exertion. "Take it all, baby."

Amber moaned wantonly, pushing back to meet every thrust. The slap of skin against skin filled the room as Trent thrusted into her with abandon, their bodies moving in perfect sync.

He reached around to thumb at her clit roughly while continuing to piston into her slick channel. The added stimulation had Amber seeing stars within moments.

"Oh god... I'm going to cum!" she keened loudly.

Within an instant Amber was beneath Trent, their foreheads pressed against the other and her legs over his shoulders as he buried himself inside of her, making her take every last inch of him as he bottomed out.

“Trent, you’re so big!” Amber squealed, the indescribable pleasure she felt accompanied by a dull ache.

"Shhh, take it," Trent whispered against Amber's ear, his hips never ceasing their relentless rhythm as he pistoned in and out of her clenching heat. "Your little pussy was made for my cock."

Amber whimpered, trying to catch her breath between cries of pleasure as Trent's thumb rubbed merciless circles over her hypersensitive clit. "Don't stop..."

With a guttural growl, Trent slammed into her one final time, holding still as his release hit. Amber felt each hot spurt of his cum filling her to the brim, marking her insides with his claiming essence. "Fuck yes... give it to me," he panted, grinding against her to prolong the sensation.

As Trent slowly withdrew, his softening member slipped free with a wet sound, followed by a trickle of their combined fluids onto the bed sheets below.

As caught up in pleasure as he was, Trent noticed Amber had rolled away from him, putting some distance between them in his spacious bed, an action he didn’t approve of.

Wrapping his arm around her waist, Trent pulled her body against his, turning her so she faced him as they both lay catching their breath.

As their eyes met, a moment of vulnerability passed between them. The haze of passion began to lift, revealing the reality of their situation. Amber's heart raced, not just from the physical exertion but from the emotional weight of what had just transpired.

"That was... intense," she breathed, her cheeks flushed as Trent tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Is this what you wanted?” Trent smiled softly, brushing his thumb along her cheek.

“Yes.”

#fanfic #chick lit #jude bellingham smut #trent alexander fluff #trent aa #trent alexander arnold smut #trent alexander arnold fanfic #trent alexander imagines #trent alexander arnold #liverpool football club #liverpool fc #taa #trent alexander x reader #trent a

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frostironfudge · 2 years ago

Text

Devour - Bucky Barnes

Summary: the new pics of seb have me in a vice grip so here is Bucky on a Mediterranean getaway with you

Pairing: mafia!bucky x fem!reader

Word Count: 880

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, sm/ut, or/al fem receiving, dirt/y talk, allusions to previous smu/tty times, d/s vibes, sorta mafia bucky?, sorta soft moments, also prinţesă means princess (romanian)

A/N: this picture got everything to life for this drabble @sebsgirl71479 thank you for this picture

Main Masterlist

The heat is sweltering.

Drops of sweat mimic the condensation on your pink drink’s glass. Taking another sip you grumble the ice watering down the sweet and sour concoction.

“Something amiss?” Bucky’s tone is light teasing from behind you.

“Drinks all watered down.” You pout, still not turning to look at him, too comfortable in the lounge chair, kindle resting on your thigh.

The breeze finally comes in drawing out a sigh from you and your eyes close. Soon enough the sun’s heat diminishes and your breath hitches.

The scent of amber and bergamot fills your senses urging your eyes open. Bucky leans over you, gold sunglasses perched atop his head.

Your eyes trail over his stubble growing in, as he swallows you watch his throat and then follow that trail to the necklace that half dangles still caught in his white tank top.

That same necklace that grazed your kiss bitten lips last night, soothing the heat spreading over your skin.

An easy smile on his face, his ring clinks against the glass. “Here,” he says handing you the replacement drink and he stands, “Can’t have my best girl pouting can I?”

You roll your eyes and he pinches your cheek a habit he formed early on both out of endearment and knowing it annoys you.

You admire his outfit, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Fuck the drink you want to drink your man in.

“See something you like prinţesă? You have that look on your face.” Azure eyes that put the Mediterranean seas to shame glint with mischief.

“Oh, I see something I love.” You flirt back, admiring the way his eyes crinkle as his grin takes over.

“A moment ago,” He returns to his original spot, the one where he hovered over you.

“You seemed as though you saw something you want to devour.” He smirks, head dipped low, lips brushing below your ear, you whimper.

The pendant of his necklace brushes over your sternum. Cold against warm.

“Bucky—,” Your words meld into a moan when his lips trail down your neck, he leaves open mouthed kisses and your hands find his shirt tugging on it wanting him closer.

“A little temptress in this swimsuit of yours,” his larger palm traces from your knee up your thigh and you arch but he only continues over your body till he pinches your hardened nipple through the fabric, “Fuck.”

He reclined the lounge chair further back, caging you in, your leg now wrapped around him.

Bucky’s lips are on yours, needy, frantic, cock straining against his pants and your hands wandering but pulling him closer.

He chuckles into the kiss as your fingers aid in the fall of his sunglasses and his hair coming loose from the bun. He loves how needy you become for him.

How beautiful you look sun kissed and kiss bitten from the night before all of his marks proudly displayed across your chest, shoulder, the one he left on your inner thigh.

Bucky growls as a particular grind of his hips makes you moan as your clit begs for more attention.

“Please, Bucky, please,” You plead pushing the soft blue shirt off of his shoulders.

“Want to taste you, my temptress.” He cups your jaw, thumb stroking your lips, you suck on the tip of his finger.

“I want to taste you too.” You nip at the flesh, Bucky smirks above you.

“I’d have whipped this outfit out sooner.” He laughs when you huff frustrated, then groans as you grind your hips to his, smirking up at him when he affixes you with a pointed glare to behave.

“I’ll eat you out right here, prinţesă.” He says in warning, hand moving to cup your mound. He can feel the heat of your skin, his own favourite concoction waiting between your thighs.

“Is that supposed to scare me?” You raise a brow, “Because if I remember right, no one else sees what belongs to the White Wolf.”

His eyes blaze with something deeper than lust, his possessiveness and protectiveness for you a known fact in his ruthless world.

“Hmm, well if anyone does see,” He kisses your cheek, then trails his lips down your neck, over your chest the warmth of his mouth preceded by the cool necklace over your abdomen. Bucky settles between your thighs, pushing them apart but pulling you close.

Nose brushing over your clothed cunt and the sight is so erotic you can’t help but moan.

“If anyone does see you pleading and pleasing me they know you are mine temptress. As they should.”

The fabric is peeled away and your folds are soaked, he hums pleased before his tongue runs over your aching cunt.

You keen as his lips latch onto your clit, your fingers tangle in Bucky’s hair.

“Which one of us is in for a treat?” Bucky questions rhetorically as you tremble beneath him, his rings digging into your thighs.

Bucky moans, at your taste, “We’re to remain here my temptress. I want to have my fill. You will give me how ever many I want won’t you?”

You nod.

“My good fucking girl.” He praises, mouth back on you, your moans pleasing his ears and your taste satiating as well as growing his hunger for you.

-x-x-x-x-

Bucky Taglist: @slutforsexyseabass @almostcontentcreator @stevesmewmew

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eeriepromis · 23 days ago

Text

POV: You're Hugging Your Favorite LI - Here's What He Smells Like

Have you ever wondered what it'd be like to hug your favorite Love Interest from LaDs and catch a hint of their unique scent? (No shame, we've all thought about it.) Well, I couldn't resist imagining exactly how Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, and Caleb might smell in real life. I matched each LI with a perfume that captures their personality, vibe, and overall aura - and let's just say, Caleb’s scent definitely involves apples.

But these are just my takes! I'd love to hear your thoughts too - did I nail their vibes, or do you picture them differently? Drop your own perfume ideas or scent headcanons in the comments! [Original Post on Reddit]

Xavier

Character & Scent Profile:

Gentle, soft-spoken, dreamy, and protective.

Hints of clean, comforting aromas, fresh linen, soft musk, and subtle floral notes that evoke nostalgia.

Light, airy, slightly sweet, and sophisticated.

By Commenters:- Vanilla- Ambroxan based enhancer, you’ll only smell his perfume if you go in and nuzzle him during a nap- Lavender & bergamot

Fitting Perfumes:

Maison Francis Kurkdjian – Aqua Universalis: Clean, subtle, airy; evokes the comforting feeling of freshly washed linens and gentle sunshine.

Byredo – Blanche: Pure, delicate, and soothing, with white rose, sandalwood, and a powdery finish - a perfect reflection of Xavier's softness and chivalry.

By Commenters: - Juliette’s Not - Replica Lazy Sunday Morning - Lake and Skye 11•11 - Clean Reserve Skin - Missing Person by Phlur - since his cards are unexpectedly very sensual, so I would like to highlight this cozy, yet sensual aspect of his personality - Taunt by Dedcool - Kinda musky and very evocative of being cozy in bed

Zayne

Character & Scent Profile:

Professional, composed, yet quietly affectionate. Reserved but with hidden warmth beneath his cold exterior.

Crisp, icy freshness mixed with warm undertones - like fresh snow, juniper berries, cedarwood, and subtle vanilla or amber notes.

By Commenters: - cinnamon- So ideal. So professional. I think he would wear something nondescript.- Subtle scent of soap or clean laundry. The subtlest musk, maybe. An Earl Gray tea scent also sounds appropriate.- Hand sanitizer or antiseptic. Bleach. With maybe a hint of fabric softener. He's a doctor, he's gonna smell like cleanliness.

Fitting Perfumes:

Creed – Silver Mountain Water: Clean, crisp, and icy with notes of bergamot, green tea, and blackcurrant; evokes mountain air and quiet strength.

Dior – Sauvage: Elegant, composed, and masculine, with notes of bergamot, vanilla, and cedar. Matches Zayne’s calm authority with a hint of hidden warmth.

By Commenters: - Diptyque’s Orphéon - It’s a comforting scent but can be most used during autumn or winters, since it’s has that level of spice and gourmand notes to it. It’s musky, sweet and it’s smexy, just like Zayne. - Quasar by Jesus del Pozo - Lait De Chocolat would suit him since it has chocolate notes and jasmine too. - Lush's Sticky Dates is as yummy as Zayne is. - Diptyque Do Son or Eau Minthe or Le Labo Thé Noir - Gentle Fluidity Silver or Gris Dior - Lush’s Flying Fox - honey and jasmine - Not a Perfume by Juliette Has a Gun - since he's a health professional, and that scent is the most subtle, inoffensive fragrance I've smelled. - Penguin by Zoologist - this does not have any of the notes that are deemed canon, but reading some of his lore makes me think this could work - Monday by Arielle Shoshana - Earl Gray tea scent. There is also a milk/caramel note, which his sweet tooth may appreciate.

Canon Scent (thanks to PootyBubTheDestroyer):

MC describes Zayne to smell like jasmine, lavender, and a unique Zayne scent in Everlasting Wish!

Rafayel

Character & Scent Profile:

Playful, mischievous, and artistic, with an underlying seductive, fiery intensity.

Sea salt, ocean air, citrusy brightness combined with exotic spices, smoked woods, and warm amber.

By Commenters:- beautiful, regal/dignified, and playful- sea salt- really in touch with nature and has such a deep respect for it & likes to bathe a lot- like soil after rain

Fitting Perfumes:

Jo Malone – Wood Sage & Sea Salt: Captures the fresh, salty breeze, artistic inspiration, and free spirit of the sea. Playful, invigorating, and effortlessly charming.

Maison Margiela Replica – By the Fireplace: Warm, spicy, smoky, comforting, and slightly sweet. Reflects Rafayel’s fiery passion, artistic nature, and depth beneath his teasing demeanor

By Commenters: - Acqua di Gio - It’s so bright and nautical that it fits his personality so well. The patchouli also harkens to the spice’s use in spiritual traditions, which is w nod towards his Sea God Memories. - CK’s Summer Collection that has that yummy coconut scent just for a fun tropical zing. - TF Soleil Blanc or D&G Light Blue Intense - Dior Bois d’Argent or Replica Sailing Day or Beach Walk - Gentle Fluidity Silver by MFK

Sylus

Character & Scent Profile:

Dark, enigmatic, elegant, charismatic, and slightly dangerous.

Mysterious, smoky oud, dark leather, tobacco, rare spices, deep patchouli, amber, and rich woods.

By Commenters:- I have always imagined Sylus smelling enigmatic and as rich as the night. Maybe some faint burnt petals, too, since his soul smells like flowers.- gunpowder, wine and elegance- mixture of mahogany and sandalwood

Fitting Perfumes:

Tom Ford – Oud Wood: Rich, sophisticated, and deeply charismatic, blending oud, rosewood, sandalwood, and vetiver; a scent perfectly embodying Sylus’s mysterious elegance.

Kilian – Black Phantom: Darkly alluring with rum, coffee, cacao, and dark woods, representing Sylus’s complexity, dark charm, and charismatic dominance.

By Commenters: - Tom Ford, Ombré Leather - it’s a blend of sweet and bitter/masculine. - Memento Mori by Seance or Frustration by Etat libre d'orange, those musky, woody rosey scents - Roja Aoud or MFK Grand Soir or Replica Jazz Club - Dior, Fahrenheit - Tobacco Vanille by Tom Ford - something warm/sweet, spicy, and sensual - Bleu Lazuli by Armani Privé - spicy/sweet/warm scent with tobacco/leather notes - Chanel's Egoiste - Hypnotizing Fire by The Harmonist - smells like roses and matches

Canon Scent (thanks to Hidden--_Sanctuary):

In Ordinary Traces MC says Sylus smells like red wine and fireworks.

Caleb

Character & Scent Profile:

Protective yet obsessive, playful yet dominant, deeply layered emotionally, with a hint of forbidden allure.

Warm apples, cinnamon, tonka bean, vanilla, dark honey, leather, and subtle incense.

By Commenters:- Airplane cabin, oil & metal.

Fitting Perfumes:

Parfums de Marly – Layton: Warm, inviting, and sensual with apple, vanilla, cardamom, and woods, perfectly embodying Caleb's warmth, temptation, and dominant presence.

Yves Saint Laurent – La Nuit de l'Homme: Seductive, charismatic, spicy with cardamom, cedar, and tonka bean. Reflects Caleb’s charismatic, teasing, yet obsessive nature beneath his playful surface.

By Commenters: - Creed Aventus - With hints of apples, birch and musk, this fragrance just screams Caleb to me. Like I can totally imagine him spritzing this in before heading for work, and as the day wears on, it gets mellowed down to mix with metallic scent of some blood and smoke. - Diptyque Tam Dao - Not my recommendation but saw another Redditor stating this would be his go-to. Makes sense to me because the scent is so comforting. This is something he’d wear maybe during the evening, when he’s back home. - Noe’s Citrus Poetry or Armaf’s El Cielo could fit him well. Plus they have green apples in it, which reminds me of his cute apple hugging emoji. (Since he’s such a big fan of sour things. Something to balance the sweetness of apples, vanilla and the richness of wood and spices) - D&G Light Blue - YSL Y or Frederick Malle Promise - Axe body spray - Angel's Share by Kilian - The smell of cinnamon rolls is so delicious and comforting and evocative of simple, childhood delights, but you also get the undercurrent of cognac, which is so mature, addicting, and masculine, and also the perfume smells a bit sharp/refreshing. - Apple Brandy on the Rocks by Kilian - would be a more obvious choice, but I think Angel's Share is just a better, more tempting fragrance overall and fitting the apple representing temptation concept more. - PDM Greenley - Green scents suit him very much and it's also got an apple note - how I imagined he smelled like in Endless Summer. - Old Spice - would probably wear something like it because of how much a dork he is.

_________

Small Bonus: Lost Cherry by Tom Ford for MC?

According to Sylus MC smells like cherry wine. (by _RiverSong) According to Xavier MC smells like strawberries/cherries. (by cooliecoolie)

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viatrixtravels-a · 2 years ago

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"..."

Those words helped loosen up her previously tense demeanor, lips now curved upwards into a small smile.

"Thank you. I value our friendship as well. You were one of the first people I met when I first arrived here in Teyvat. I was at an all-time low back then and it was partially thanks to you and Amber that I was able to pull through."

His expression softened to a more genuine look. "I promise. I'd never do anything to hurt you or your brother. You both mean a lot to me." He might joke around and flirt with the pair, but he treasured their friendship above all else.

#;; ic #;; interactions #astralexpresscrew #// flashbacks to my original team #// I liked using Amber and Kaeya a lot #// I've unfortunately dropped Amber since then #// But I still use Kaeya daily!

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milkymora · 2 months ago

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left ✧ tsukishima kei x fem!reader ✧ fluff ending

note: uhh i originally had a different idea for this one, but then art block kicked in and i couldn’t find a way to end it how i wanted to, so, for the life of me, i changed it and this is the result. it’s kinda bland but i thought the idea was nice although clichè.

tw: period cramps, r! throwing up.

“kyoko is right.” said tsukishima in a low voice, so that only you could hear. confused, you turn your head to him, inquisitive stare seeking for his amber eyes.

he had his cheek resting on the palm of his hand, not really returning your stare, rather glancing at his plate, with a neutral expression that had a shade of dreaminess in it you weren’t sure you’ve ever seen before.

he seemed to be spacing out, actually.

“what was that?” you questioned, although having heard just fine his previous statement, stealing a forkful of pasta from his plate to get him to pay attention to you.

a subtle smile made its way across tsukki’s thin lips at your gesture.

“i said that kyoko’s right.” he repeated, eyes finally reciprocating yours, no shame in his apparently sincere compliment.

it wasn’t a tease, nor a joke. his voice was genuine, to your surprise.

“what do you mean?”

you knew. you knew what he meant, and he knew that you knew. yet, you wanted to hear him say it. to hear those sweet words, that never came out of his mouth, from him.

“you look gorgeous.” he admitted as if it was the easiest thing to say, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world, going with his fork to steal one of your french fries, mimicking your previous playful deed. though you didn’t even notice.

you had your eyes locked on his, shifting from his right to his left, too busy processing what you’ve just been told.

“oh,” you let out a nervous cackle, “thank you.” flashing him a timid smile. he responded with a simple nod, that subtle smile lingering on his lips as he did.

“sure but, don’t look at me like that.” abruptly, he added.

“like what?” you tilted your head.

“like i’m never nice.”

“would it be a lie?” you snorted, eyeing him from head to toe.

“yes. a blatant one.” unfazed, he responded.

“uh,” you lift your eyebrows at his words, “excuse me?” shock painting your traits, as you go to fill your glass with the water the waiter just brought to the table.

“wasn’t i lovey-dovey enough yesterday?” chuckling, he watches as you almost choke on your drink, coughing the life out of your lungs.

you keep coughing into your palm for a good moment, after having sent him a kick with the tip of your shoe on his calf from under the table, peering around you to make sure your friends hadn’t heard kei’s last sentence.

too bad you’re met by kyoko’s interested stare; when you make eye contact, it’s like you’ve seen a ghost.

“what happened yesterday?” she curiously wonders out loud. although her angelic face, you recognize those sly eyes.

“nothing,” you laugh, not helping the a little too high pitched tone, “he just dropped a couple books at my house, to, uh–” that would always kicks in when searching for a decent lie to tell.

“–to hand them back. i borrowed them from y/n over a month ago, but forgot to return them.” tsukishima chimed in at the pathetic sight of your struggling figure, being the good actor he’d always been.

“sure.” kyoko’s smile spoke volumes, however she simply accepted your response, leaving you alone... without flashing you a knowing smirk beforehand, though.

swallowing a pool of saliva formed in your mouth, you cleared your throat, detaching your gaze from her, your bashful face glancing at your empty plate.

quietly, you go back to eavesdropping the others’ conversations, finding yourself eventually joining yachi’s jokes after sharing laughters with tadashi and her.

and it went on like that for a good while.

until you felt a sudden, stinging pain in your stomach that made you drop the fork in your hand. nonody noticed you going silent at first, nobody except him.

“you good?” his brows furrow the more the time passes, seeing no response coming from you. “i–” your arm goes to cover your stomach, but the pain is so strong you can’t even speak to explain.

abruptly, you jump up, unable to bear it any longer.

it wasn’t a bellyache from something you’ve eaten, you’d recognize those awful cramps from a mile.

without being able to alert anyone, you dragged your feet towards the restroom, closing the door behind you and letting out a groan as shimizu’s voice spoke from afar.

“y/n? are you okay?”

you ignore her, too busy hastily rummaging into your purse for your portable meds’ box as kyoko’s steps approach you, but when you open it, you remember that you hadn’t taken any pill with you for period cramps from home.

“ow—” you cry, the pain bending you, making you kneel down on the bathroom floor. “hey, hey-” kyoko spoke, laying a hand over your shoulder. “what’s wrong?” she asks, her hand traveling on your back to caress it in slow movements.

“do you have anything for cramps?” with tight teeth, you fight the nausea that threaten to make you throw up at any given second.

shimizu’s features softened at your request, wordlessly realizing the issue. “i think i do,” she begins, “i’ll go back where i left my purse to search it up, okay?” she continues. “i’ll be right back.”

you nod, and as quickly as she came, she was gone, leaving you alone with your aching lowerbelly.

you cursed yourself for your oversight, swallowing several times as to try not to actually vomit, when you hear another voice speak from behind the door.

“are you there?” kei’s knuckles knock on the door.

your voice trembles slightly, “yeah.”

he opens the door of a couple inches, his head sticking in to take a look at you. “come in,” you say, gesturing at him.

“um, are you sure i can...?” he doubts, eyeing the women sign glued on the door.

“oh, who cares!” you exclaim, before letting out another groan, closing your eyes in pain. you crouch into yourself further, as if that was somehow gonna relief that unbearable discomfort.

the door closes. his frame sits next to you the second later, so close to you that your shoulders are touching.

“i saw kyoko running back to the table, i figured she anticipated me.” he talks softly, his calmness somewhat comforting. “what happened?”

“just my period.” you lay your head against the cold tiles of the room, huffing and puffing as you tried to regulate your breathing. failing.

“is it that bad?” his face tilts slightly, glancing over every inch of your grimace. “what do you think, sherlock?” you turn your face on the opposite direction, avoiding his eyes as to not be seen like that.

“sorry,” he timidly apologizes, slapping a sense of guilt into your guts for giving him an uncalled for attitude.

“no–” you shake your head, “i’m sorry.” you sigh. “it’s just that it hurts so bad.”

the door pushes open once more, this time hitoka is behind it.

“oh,” yachi takes a step back, “did i interrupt something?” her squeaky tone makes you smile. “no.” you flash her a weak smile.

“i came in to tell you that kyoko doesn’t have anything for you, she told me... and neither do i.” her hands fidget with the little bows of her dress. “do you wanna go home? we will pay for your part.” her displeased face touched your heart.

however tsukki didn’t allow you to choose.

“i’ll pay for it and get her home, you girls don’t worry. i’ll take care of it.” he gets up from his spot. “go tell the others we’re leaving, please.”

his request meets a nodding yachi, that wastes no time heading back to your friends.

“here,” he lends you his hands, “hop.” he says as he helps you get on your feet.

“you really don’t have to, i ca-” you begin, “y/n, darling, spare me the “i can do it myself” speech for another day, okay?”

you try to rebut, “but, really, i can do this myself.”

“yeah, yeah. you’re an independent, strong, woman. i know. we all know. now let me help you.” he says, taking your hand into his, his warm skin pleasing to the touch.

although the nausea and the hammering pain in your womb, you can’t help but chuckle at his statement. “thank you.” you whisper, going on your tippy toes to print a phantom kiss on his cheek.

tsukishima paid for your and his part as he said, before giving a quick wave at the table where the others were still dining cheerfully, tossing on his shoulders his thick coat and opening the door of the restaurant for you and himself.

you and him walked out of the building, the freezing, nightly, dicember air hitting your skin like a whiplash, making your aching worsen immediately.

“shit,” you whine, his arm going around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “resist. we’ll be home before you notice.” he comforts, your frames starting to walk down the street hand in hand.

half an hour later, you’re finally home.

your face is sloped over the toilet, puking every single thing you’ve eaten. tsukki’s behind you, although your protests of not needing him to, holding your hair out of your face.

the cold hadn’t really helped, and your walk was terrible to say the mere least. you felt as if you were fucking dying.

“i’ll go make you something warm.” he offers, to which you jerk your face in his direction, tears in your glassy eyes, heavy breathing. “what?! no! i’ll throw that up as well!”

“okay! okay. what do you want me to do?” asks his intimidated self, “go grab my hot water bottle and fill it, please.” you command, rather desperately.

just like that, he goes upstairs, in your bedroom, taking a hot minute to find the needed object, that was buried between your peluches and covers.

you hear a bunch of rustling, then his steps descending the stairs, walking into the kitchen, taking out a small saucepan.

after another five minutes, his figure appears back into the bathroom, where your poor self had been sitting, sore.

“there.” he says, handing you the thing.

you grab it, laying your back against the wall and pressing the water bag against your abdomen so hard you almost burn your skin. “thanks.” you murmur.

“you think you can take the medicine now?” his finger goes to softly stroke your cheek, giving you a compassionate stare.

“yes...” you glance inside the toilet you just flushed, that erased all the gross shit that previously was there. “i think i’m done with it, if life wants to give me a break.”

“wanna go lay down?” he asks, the softness in his voice giving you sweet goosebumps. “are you gonna leave if i do?”

“wha- no. why would i?” his eyebrows jump slightly.

“i don’t know. just a feeling.” you look down, at your feet.

“i mean, if you want me to leave, i’ll leav-”

“don’t.” your hand goes over his. his fingers move under yours, bringing your hand to his lips. “okay.” before kissing its back.

“..stay for the night.” you move your head towards him, resting your forehead against his. “please.”

his face colored of a deep bordeaux.

“are you sure?” he questions. “mhm.” you hum.

you were left alone in the bathroom as he went to his house to quickly change into cozy clothes. you took the time to take your medicine, a short shower to get the smell off of you and brush your teeth– which you definitely needed as well.

just as you got out of the bathroom in your freshly washed pajama, he entered your place again, this time with flannel pants and a purple sweatshirt, that had a little yellow moon at its upper right.

“have you told your mom you’re staying here for the night? asking that for the sake of your ears, you know...” you joke, noticing, as you did, that your pain as already significantly lowered.

“ha-ha.” he sarcastically laughs at your joke, “don’t worry about that.”

you chuckled, the both of you walking upstairs into your room. “how’s your..?” he begins.

“good. thank you again, for... you know. everything.” you smile, entering your bedroom with him following.

“anytime, pipsqueak.”

you’ve turned on your pc, posing it on the bed, as he took out of your closet another pillow and a couple more fluffy blankets, in that room he’s been in so many times before.

he crawls up your bed, after having added all the necessities, before laying on top of your pillows and playing with one of your peluche.

precisely, the little t-rex he gifted you for your birthday when you were kids. which reminded you...

“oh!” you exclaim, making him jump upright. “what?” he asks, searching for any sign of pain on your face.

“i,” you blush. “i bought you something.”

he lets out a relieved sigh, “god, you scared me.” that quickly shifts into curiosity, though. “what is it?”

you clumsily slip out of your bed, running downstairs, where you left your purse. you grab it, going back to him.

the old woman at the shop had wrapped it up in christmas themed paper, with a red bow on top.

“before you say anything, i know it’s dumb.” you look away, stretching your arm out to him, with the thing in your hand. “i just... i don’t know. it made me think of you when i saw it, so i got it.”

he quietly grabs the object from you, unwrapping it. his expression remains impassive, which makes you nervous.

more than what you already are. “i got one for me too- a matching one.” you stutter mildly, taking out your own brown little bear.

when you go back to watch his face, you found him already looking at you. actually he keeps going back and forth to you and the white bear in his hand.

“you can give it back if you don’t like it.” you close your hand into a fist, hiding your bear in it, your cheeks darkening as you watch him get up from your bed. “tsukki?” you ask.

his arms wrap around your waist, lifting you up, mouth catching yours into a kiss. you tense up before realizing his gesture, loosing up and kissing him back, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist.

it’s the sweetest kiss you’ve ever received. nothing compared to the passionate one he gave you yesterday, no, it was... so tender. so delicate.

he wasn’t using his tongue, he simply pressured your lips with his. again, and again. until finally stopping to look at you.

he sat down, you on his lap, watching you with an adoring gaze that made your breath cut short. “i love it so much. thank you, it’s adorable.” he goes to kiss you one more time. “and...” he whispers into your ear, “i’ve actually bought something for you too.”

“really?” your eyes lighten up at his words, a wave of excitement crushing your heart. “yes.” he chuckles.

“what is it?” you ask, making yourself more comfortable on his lap, resting your hands on his broad shoulders.

“just a pair of earrings. i... don’t really know your taste, but i thought of you when i saw them, so i just got them, like you.”

your heart fastened at his words, a smile painting your face from ear to ear. “can i see them?”

“no. not tonight.” he says, making your excitement drop into disappointment. seeing the change of your traits, he pulls you closer to him, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“don’t be sad. i took them home when i went to change. i’ll show you tomorrow, promise.” he nuzzles his face against your neck, occasionally kissing it, making those goosebumps persist on your skin.

“okay.” you smile, running your fingers through his short, golden hair.

a couple minutes later, you were laying back on the bed. you had the pc on your lap, as he kept watching and watching the bear you just gifted him. “so,” he starts. “which movie are we watching?”

“my little pony equestria girls.” you deadpan, holding in the urge to turn and see his expression.

“no way, how did you know it’s my favorite?” he exclaims with irony, making you burst out laughing wholeheartedly.

“no, seriously though, which movie did you pick?”

“i haven’t picked one yet. i’ll let you do that.” you say, putting the laptop on his lap, going to lay next to him. “how do you wanna call your bear?”

“nice.” he smiles, as you guys fix your positions on the bed, your head going to rest on his shoulder as he bring the blankets over your bodies, fuzzy socks on your feet and a couple more peluches around the two of you. “pipsqueak seems appropriate. small, annoying. like you.” he says.

“what do you think?” he questions.

“i’m not annoying. be sweet for once.” you pinch his hip. “okay. i’ll figure out a kinder nickname.” he sighs, rolling his eyes with fake annoyance, although his smile betrayed him.

eventually, he picked his movie, series actually, something you’ve never heard of before, but that was quite his style.

the lights were now turned off, your hot water bag had gotten cold, but you didn’t need it anymore. tsukishima was a good substitute.

your eyes were slowly closing themselves as your hand caressed his chest, head under his chin, which he’d occasionally kiss, caressing your body in such loving way you felt like you were dreaming awake.

after all that’s happened between you and him, this moment was the last way you’d thought your relationship with this guy could turn into.

you weren’t complaining of course.

“tsukki,” you called, “are you asleep?” whispering.

silence. you moved your head slightly upwards, trying to take a look at his face. you couldn’t see much with only the pc screen’s light, yet his eyes seemed to be closed.

he looked so beautiful, an angelic, sleeping lamb.

his breathing was also slower. you watched as his chest rised and fell.

he must’ve been asleep.

“i love you.”

you confessed, closing the pc and going back to nuzzle your face against him, covering your bodies under the amount of blankets, ready to finally join him.

your relaxed face goes back into a smile, though, when you hear him whisper back,

“me too.”

✧ previous

#haikyuu!! fanfic #haikyū!!#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq!! x reader #hq tsukki #hq fanfic #hq x reader #hq #hq!!#hq fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu tsukki #tsukishima kei fanfiction #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima kei #tsukki x reader #✧ mora’s hq!!

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mybworlds · 2 months ago

Text

Kiss the girl

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader

Warnings: use of you, you’re a mermaid, I won't give any details except for nice long legs and very long hair, nudity, violence (a little?), use of both pov. If I missed smt please let me know.

Summary: your time with Marcus is over, you have to go back to your home. When you are about to leave, Marcus has the courage to declare himself, but..

Masterlist

A/N Thank you so much for the amount of love and support, it means a lot. The title of the chapter takes inspiration from the very famous song from Walt Disney's The Little Mermaid. Likes, comments and reblogs are not mandatory, but very appreciated! ❤️

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The days pass peacefully as do what Acacius calls weeks. Every evening as instructed by your aunt you take a few drops of her potion and then return to your commitments with Marcus.

When the man has no political or military commitments, he dedicates all his time to you, he even gives you clothes and a pearl necklace, although the pearls are certainly not as splendid as those you have at the bottom of the sea.

Being with him for so long, you almost feel like you've always been there with him, that you've always been part of his life and, if your initial intent was to get to know him and discover his world, now you hope to be part of it forever.

You have also learned to love the time with little Faustus, you almost feel like an old sister playing with her little brother. You’ve never experienced this pleasure and it’s beautiful. You chase each other, you giggle, you grab him and lift him into the air, you tickle him, you run to the beach and there, just off the shore, you splash each other, covering yourself in sand and seaweed.

You once noticed Marcus watching you with a tender smile, the light in his eyes is sometimes indecipherable to your eyes. Your relationship is slowly changing and you don't mind at all.

You and him have reached an almost perfect daily life and you have such trust in each other that maybe now you can tell him everything. Including your origin and the truth about you.

That summer evening there's a slightly stronger and warmer wind, you run to your room feeling the effects of the potion almost fading. You reach under the bed to get the vial and that's when you realize there are only a few drops for that evening.

A deep sense of sadness and grief creeps over you as you realize you have to return to your aunt under the sea. The moment of truth has arrived. You must speak to Marcus before you have no choice but to show him who you are.

Marcus...

Oh, he was always so kind to you, sweet. He made you feel loved, yes you think that's the right word. But will he understand who you are? Or will he chase you away?

Maybe he should really be with someone like Augusta Lucilla, as everyone calls her, a good woman, beautiful, elegant, educated and certainly accustomed to what happens in Rome, its intrigues and its dark power. You met her more than once and she seemed genuinely intrigued and fascinated by you, she asked you many questions and you gave the same answers you had already given to everyone before. She and Marcus have also spent a lot of time alone together, and when that happened, you could watch them and see how perfect they are together. You know what Marcus thinks, but you think that maybe he should give her a chance. It hurts to think about it, but you and him—even if he accepted you—couldn't be together anyway.

When you reach him, you find him on the beach intent on watching the sunset. His amber skin is orange-toned, his greyish curls are tousled by the wind, his gaze is rapt and absorbed. You call him softly and he turns to you, smiles slightly and holds out his hand to you, which you offer, sitting next to him. You are shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm and you have never been closer.

“You’re here.” he tells you in a faint whisper.

You look into his soft hazel eyes, he seems troubled by something that you can only assume has to do with Lucilla and his now controversial upcoming wedding. Geta, in fact, does nothing but come here to his house to remind him of the impending event and does not miss any opportunity to talk to you and try to charm you or capture your attention, but so far he has always failed. You don't like his eyes and their expression at all, his voice makes you disgusted and scared at the same time, you always fear that something might happen to you in his presence. You are kind to him, courteous, but always maintain a cordial detachment and above all never spend more time than necessary with him and never alone.

“I'm here,” you say, looking him softly in the eyes.

His expression is sad, he searches for your hand again which he holds gently in his. He strokes the back of your hand with his thumb without saying anything. The silence that usually falls between you is comfortable, full of a strange and pleasant intimacy, but this seems to foretell something extremely serious.

“Your presence is always so dear to me,” he says, leaving the sentence hanging in mid-air for a while as if he didn't know how to continue, “but I fear... that we won't be able to see each other again.” you frown, looking him insistently in the eyes, while his eyes become full of regret and sadness.

You find yourself lowering your eyes, maybe it's better this way. This way it’ll be easier for you to separate from him and maybe try to forget the joy and sweetness you felt with him all this time. You will definitely have fewer regrets and probably won't want to come back to the surface as much. You had a good time with him and maybe, given his upcoming wedding, it's a good thing you're not here. You would only feel a great immense pain. You have learned to love him.

“You were my lifeline. The most precious thing that could ever happen in my life. A sweet and gentle soul who touched my heart and soul in such a unique, strong, delicate, persuasive way.” you look up at each other at the same time “Thank you for saving me.”

“I didn’t do anything… I…” you start to say, but he takes your hand again, bringing it to his lips and kissing it with such sweetness that it makes your skin pucker.

“You did, instead. You saved me on more than one occasion. Months ago... and since you've been here.” he adds still holding your hand gently in his “You gave me so many moments of joy and... with you and your innocence I discovered the purity of a feeling that I had never felt before.” you look at him surprised and almost speechless.

You thought that he, so handsome, so strong, so confident, had dozens of women he had seduced and related experiences. You never thought he could find in you what you thought he had already experienced and felt.

“I… um, I don’t know what to say,” you admit in a small voice, then he looks at you with such intensity that you think everything is probably going to burn under his gaze soon, including you.

His face is now so close to yours, his hand halfway between your face and your hair, his grip is firm, but you are not afraid of this gesture, on the contrary. You don't know what to do but stand still and watch this gesture almost in bewilderment, he must have noticed this almost stiffening of yours because he stops a hand's breadth away, “Sorry,” he whispers and you feel his hot breath against your face for the first time.

“No, I don’t… it’s just…” I’m a mermaid, you want to tell him, maybe this is the right time, the most appropriate time to tell him who you are. You are looking for the right words to be completely honest with him.

“I know,” he tells you in a tone of voice so reassuring, so sure that it silences every other word you say. Did he understand? Or see something you don't? Your words get stuck in your throat, will he accept you or want you anyway?

“Marcus...” you murmur, moving closer to his face, imitating what he had done to you a few moments before. You can notice every single wrinkle of his, his scar next to his right eye, his uneven beard, his brown eyes.

“My lord!” someone calls Marcus, it's one of his servants. You both walk away at the same time realizing that what was about to happen can never happen between you.

“What's going on?” asks Marcus, turning around. You first look at the man's profile, then you turn around too.

“The…” the servant clears his throat as if embarrassed, as if he doesn’t know what to say. You let your gaze wander from the man to Marcus who simply nods without adding anything else. His face has become a tense mask, his eyes are sad and downcast, then he turns towards you and his gaze softens.

When the servant leaves, he takes your hand tenderly, turning you towards him, “If I tell you something, will you promise to keep it a secret?” you nod, concerned by the serious tone of voice and what appears to be concern.

You nod.

“It's a serious thing,” he announces.

A few weeks before...

Acacius, although has achieved a certain stability and serenity with you, is increasingly oppressed by Geta's push to quell any type of revolt that is creeping into the heart of Rome. In fact, the emperor is convinced that among the possible conspirators there is none other than the daughter of the emperor Marcus Aurelius and, according to Geta, the only way to definitively suppress the main revolt would be to marry Augusta Lucilla to the General so loved by the people and very faithful to his kingdom and to that of his brother Caracalla.

Lucilla, during her many meetings with Marcus, convinced him to participate in at least one of the many secret meetings in which she herself assiduously participates. There, Marcus discovered that many figures who are also prominent in the Senate are against the mad and bloody reign of the Emperors and ended up agreeing with their opinion.

Marcus has often totally disapproved of the two young men's methods of reigning and has often felt oppressed by their expansionist aims and from their total inability to think about the good of the people. Tired and fed up with their way of doing things, the General has, albeit secretly, decided to support Lucilla's cause and to bring back to light Marcus Aurelius' dream, or at least try. It's probably all madness, but Marcus hopes with all his heart that with the support of his men and the support of the Senate, or at least part of it, this conspiracy can succeed and the power of the two twin Emperors be overthrown.

Until then he had always kept away from such situations, but this is no longer possible. Now is the time to act.

Today...

The time is near. Many men loyal to Marcus are about to land on the coasts of Lazio. Soon everything should begin in Rome and the two Emperors will be taken by surprise, but not you. You have to go, Marcus has thought of everything. He will have you board a merchant ship to take you back to the coast of Sicily, where he first met you so that you will be safe from all of this. Marcus, in fact, does not know what could happen once the fuse is lit. Everything could explode, or implode.

You are the strangest, yet most delightful and sweet creature he has ever known. So pure and so gentle, so magnetic and magical, so strong and yet fragile at the same time. He knows he will never be the same after he meets you. He will carry the sweet memory of you with him forever. He won't be able to love you in this life, but he hopes that when one day far away you are both in the Elysian Fields, then and only then will he be able to allow himself to be happy with you.

It's not a given that the conspiracy will end badly, but if everything doesn't go as planned, then Marcus must be prepared for the worst and he knows that in this eventuality he must protect those he loves and prepare to suffer and die.

He has already arranged for the young Iulia and the little Faustus to be entrusted to a dear friend of his who will take care of them and respect them both. He will make sure that they come with you since you have grown so fond of the little one and Faustus of you. He's more than certain that their life will be peaceful and dignified.

But now the real question is how to tell you? How to tell you that he loves you, but that he has to let you go?

Marcus has been through so many difficult, dangerous and painful situations, but having to say goodbye to you is the most heartbreaking thing he has ever thought about or will ever have to do. He wanted to place his lips on yours and whisper those words that no one had ever managed to get out of him before you. You have been the sweetest of companions throughout this time, the first to make him smile and fill his heart.

He knows you have your secrets, but he doesn't care. He learned to love you for who you are and how you make him feel, and that's enough for him.

It's probably not right to kiss you and then say goodbye and perhaps the fact that you pulled away is a sign that the gods have sent to Marcus not to involve you in this foretold drama. However, the fact that you are now approaching his face and the arrival of one of his servants makes him understand that perhaps at least with you he must be clear and sincere. If he were to die and the two of you never see each other again, you have every right to know why. He doesn't want to disappear from your life like a bubble, he doesn't have that cruel courage.

You must know.

Your face changes expression continuously as he tells you what happened in the previous weeks without your knowledge, you are surprised, confused, maybe even angry and disappointed by his silence, anguished because you have surely understood that it's something that in one way or another could kill him.

“It’s not fair.” You whisper in a barely audible whisper. “Don’t leave me.” You find yourself begging him, your eyes clouded with great sadness. You look down at the wave-moistened sand.

Marcus whispers your name, moving your hair and tucking it behind your back, but you don’t look at him, “Please, look at me.” he says to you, slowly caressing your shoulder. “Please.” he adds in a pleading tone.

You look up at him and for the first time he thinks he sees something like tears.

“I don't...” you say with a shaking voice, “I can't cry, but I wish I could now.” Marcus moves his hand away from your shoulder “I - I can't. I - I... I mean, tomorrow morning I have to... leave.” you don't stop staring at the sand at your feet “I don't know how long I'll be gone, but...” for a while you stay silent, there is only the lapping of the sea to fill the silence that is growing between you “I am not who you think I am, Marcus.” you finally resume, finally raising your eyes to his face.

“I know who you are, instead.” he says and in your eyes almost fear spreads “You are the person I dreamed and hoped could be by my side. You changed me and made me see the world in a sweet and tender way.” he caresses your cheek with the back of his hand and your eyes lock, making everything and everyone fade into the background.

“It’s not like that. I… um, I’m a liar, but if I lied to you it’s because I just wanted to…” Marcus places a finger on your lips, blocking the words that would likely make him see you in a different light.

“Please don't think badly of yourself, my beautiful girl,” he murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You are so sweet, so pure, so…”

“A monster.” This word comes out abruptly from your lips, freezing the situation and causing an abrupt silence to fall between you, “Well, many... define us like this. Monsters. Murderers.”

Marcus frowns in astonishment. No, it can’t be that you were hired to kill him or kill emperors. He doesn’t believe it. Yet, a part of him has always felt you were elusive. If he had to compare you to something, he would define you as similar to a drop of water that, no matter how much you want to stop it, always finds a way to escape your grip.

Marcus interrupts your flow of words that would likely have led you into dangerous uncharted territory by bringing his face close to yours and placing his lips on yours. He feels you holding your breath and tensing, but you don't pull away. Your lips are so soft, he places his hands first on the sides of your face as if he wanted to bring you even closer to his face, lifting it just a little to deepen the contact. He knows he should have asked your permission and when he's about to move away from your face and apologize again, you're the one who stops him by placing a hand in his curly hair. Your kiss is so sweet and innocent that it almost ends up crumbling everything around you, the sounds, the noises, the lights, the words —the whispered ones, the hidden ones— everything fades into the background. You kiss slowly, almost as if it were your first and last kiss, the first and last moment, so sweet and intimate, so yours.

He doesn't know exactly what you feel, he knows that inside you it's as if two people were clashing, the sweet one who was immediately able to conquer both him and all the inhabitants of the house with your gentleness and innocence and the other one is the mysterious, seductive one that attracts everyone to you while keeping everyone away.

One murmurs the other's name in a whisper and still with eyes closed almost as if you fear that one might dissolve if the other opens his eyes, you sink both hands into his hair and whisper his name again. In his ears his name sounds almost like a sweet melody, it's as if for a long moment he had forgotten about the conspiracy, the dangers, his probable death, but he allowed himself the luxury of thinking of a world in which you and he could live in peace, happy, serene.

“Marcus...”

You open your eyes and each rests his gaze on the other, he caresses your cheeks with his fingertips, still savoring these brief moments of peace, of tenderness. He enjoys your rapt gaze, how your eyes close when he caresses your face or when his nose brushes against yours. He smiles thinking that if the gods wanted to call him to them right now, he would die in peace.

“Tomorrow morning at dawn, I have to - I have to leave.” you tell him, caressing that face that you have learned to love more and more every day and that now will be difficult to let go.

Marcus rests his forehead against yours, he doesn't want to let you go, but he has to. He doesn't know how you'll leave or who'll pick you up, he just knows you'll leave him and, although he's always been strong, this will weigh on him. He'll miss you.

Dawn comes early. You and Marcus spent the night on a triclinium, huddled together, each doing nothing but caressing the other's face, each seeking the other's hand.

The more the light prepares to prevail over the night and the more the pain in your chest increases and amplifies, when Marcus falls asleep, you gently loosen your grip and get up.

The pain in your legs makes you understand that the spell is now ending and that you are close to returning to who you are. You don't want to return to the bottom of the sea, but you cannot do otherwise.

You snuggle up and look at his face once more, so peaceful during sleep and almost always tormented during the day, his hair, a disheveled curl falling across his forehead, the scar under his eye, his lips that you kiss gently again, his big and strong hands.

You have to go now.

You turn your back on him and walk down those corridors that you have learned to know, along which you have also run, laughed, talked and marveled at the great beauty that man is capable of; now you're on the beach, the sky is full of clouds and you're ready to return to the waves despite yourself. You undress, leaving behind the beautiful silk dress that Marcus gave you, and you also leave the necklace he gave you there.

The water is cold, but it only lasts a moment, then your beautiful legs are no longer there and in their place your fish tail has reappeared. As you are about to dive in, you realize that a couple of timid tears have flown towards the waves, causing sudden, strong ripples.

You give yourself a boost by immersing yourself completely as if you wanted to push everything away and distance yourself from your life on earth.

You want to come back, but you don't know how long it'll be before you can, or if the man you love will wait for you... what you completely ignore, however, is that Marcus saw everything.

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